#needless to say i fucking died of laughter

[graveyard--dog]

*driving home w/ my wife*

Me: ...so, how do you think the Galapagos Islands are doing?

Her: Oh, like from Kingdom Hearts??

Me: ????? LMAO

[thefanficmonster]

Never Beating the Allegations

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A compilation of Colby and Y/N being far too obvious with their feelings for one another for the entire world to see. Basically, a YouTube documentation spanning several channels that marks the history of this goofy relationship

"It's fucking nighttime already, dude! We're running two hours behind schedule!" Sam complains through a smile, shaking his head at Colby who's trailing behind him with bags full of snacks. "All because someone spent those two hours scouring a store!

They're currently in Canada following the filming of a couple investigations for Hell Week with Kris and Celina. As Sam said, they were supposed to be two hours along the road back home already - a very tiny portion of their roadtrip back, seeing as how they didn't get to buy plane tickets on time. So, they settled for a two day roadtrip and the adventure it would bring on.

Colby, not at all bothered by Sam's accusations, smiles at the camera, "I promised Y/N I'd bring back signature Canadian snacks for her. There is no chance in hell I go home empty-handed. She'd kill me." As if to prove he is serious about his quest, he lifts the two heavy looking bags for the camera to get a better shot of them.

Sam's smile falters, replaced by a highly offended frown, "So you're telling me we're not gonna eat any of those snack on the road?" Colby - folding with laughter, mind you - shakes his head. "Are you fucking ki-...."

* * * * *

"I'm almost done!" Y/N calls out from her spot in front of the mirror where she's been stuck for the past thirty minutes trying to even out her winged liner.

A groan comes from a far distance but is still picked up by her phone microphone and is heard by the audience of Y/N's Instagram live, "You keep saying that!"

Not ten seconds later, the door is thrown open, provoking a laugh from the girl. She lowers her hand and takes her attention away from her reflection to pay her roommate proper acknowledgement. "Give me a second, sheesh! Can't a girl make herself pretty in peace?"

Although he never enters the frame fully, the live chat is already flowing with cheers of Colby's name. Whether it was wishful thinking or an educated guess on their part is a mystery. Regardless, they're entirely correct, their suspicions confirmed when they hear his voice and see his arm come into frame, his hand cupping Y/N's chin to tilt up her face.

"You're always pretty." He says, causing her to roll her eyes. At that, he boops her nose with his pointer finger before withdrawing his arm, "You have five minutes to wrap things up."

Y/N's gaze lingers on him until he's out of sight. She shakes her head and catches the camera's eye in the mirror reflection, "The audacity on that man. Tsk

* * * * *

@_y/n_dragonfly Fuck Valentine's Day @_colbybrock

Needless to say, the comments went wild, running with this post on Y/N's Instagram as unofficial proof of the ship the fandom seems to hold so near and dear to their hearts.

Hope dies last, after all. Maybe one day their ship might set-sail.

* * * * *

"Ok, so, update..." Colby chuckles, looking away from the camera he's currently holding blogging style to make sure he doesn't trip on anything, "We were supposed to go grab food before starting the investigation, but then...." He flips the camera to show the backyard of the abandoned house they'll be exploring tonight, "Y/N found a trampoline in the backyard."

As the camera focuses, both Sam and Y/N come into clear view - the former laughing at the latter who's too busy to care. She's too occupied having the time of her life on this raggedy looking trampoline, reveling in childlike joy as she hops around.

Colby sets the camera on the tripod Sam had left nearby, wanting to capture this wholesome moment, even if it didn't make it into the final cut of the video. Though he doesn't see why it wouldn't.

After adjusting the camera, he turns to find Sam has joined Y/N on the trampoline, far more hesitant than she is, though.

"You guys are ridiculous." He remarks as he approaches them, shaking his head with a bright smile on his face.

Y/N lands on her knees so she can be at least halfway at eye-level with her friend, offering him a beckoning hand, "Come be ridiculous too. Don't be a bore."

Colby scoffs and rolls his eyes. Still, he accepts her hand but instead of using it for support to climb up to join his friends on the trampoline, he tugs on it. Y/N lets out a little yelp as she's enveloped in his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, unwilling to have a rather unpleasant encounter with the ground.

"Colby! Put me down!!" Put her down he most certainly doesn't, instead opting to spin her while securely holding her in his arms, eliciting mock terror-filled screams from her.

Eventually, he does get persuaded into joining her and Sam on the trampoline.

And the whole fiasco eventually makes it into the final cut and onto the internet.

And, inevitably, in edits.

* * * * *

It's an innocent, wholesome TikTok they filmed in the garden of the Conjuring house. Yes, the Conjuring house, no biggie.

Sam is the cameraman who much to his relief didn't even need to orchestrate anything. He just pressed the record button on his phone to capture the tomfoolery going on. The lighting is perfect, provided by the few remaining rays of sunlight before dark befell them. A little lighthearted fun was more than needed before they'd have to go back in the house to chat with spirits for the night.

The video captures Y/N in her natural element - dancing goofily with the pair of headphones they use for the Estes method on her head. The caption under the video reads: 'When the spirits drop a sick beat' and is quite the perfect depiction of the trio's dynamic.

Sam documenting the chaos. Y/N being the chaos. And Colby observing her chaos with heart-eyes from the sidelines.

Although Sam hadn't originally noticed his best friend's awed gaze accidentally captured in the video, the fans most definitely noticed. And, as per usual, they ran with it.

*sigh* These two are never beating the allegations.

@benbarnesprettygurl @jessy-shine @mushycore @richardsamboramylove55 @smuttiest-smuttt @honey-bees-13 @rei-ito

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Don't Wanna Miss A Thing

Complete fluff, tiny bit of angst but mainly cheesy fluff.

Originally this was going to be a vampire Eddie fic but I changed my mind halfway through writing, I hope you still enjoy ❤️

Lyrics from Aerosmith's I don't wanna miss a thing

💞

Eddie seeks out the sound of your heartbeat. It soothes him, reminds him that you're alive and that the horrors of the Upside Down are now over.

He lays beside you on his bed and rests his head on your chest, the tension of the day melts away and he listens to the steady beats of your heart.

When the final showdown occurred between Hawkins and The Upside Down, Eddie was sure he wouldn't survive, he had already cheated death once when he survived the demobats attack; there was no way he would be lucky this time.

By some miracle he did survive. It was you who nearly died, who had nearly been torn apart by a Demogorgon- it certainly did some damage before you and Nancy torched the fucker.

Then you were on the ground and barely moving, blood seeping through your shirt and your heartbeat was slow, too slow. A soft smile graced your features as Eddie held you and you whispered those three little words.

I love you. Words Eddie had been wanting to hear for weeks but never thought it could be possible, now they were a deathbed confession.

Things for you were touch and go for days as you were whisked away to some government hospital and Eddie was a panicked, anxious mess; not even his strongest weed helped calm his racing mind.

When you were at the hospital Eddie heard no news for days and resigned himself to the worst. However he promised himself that if you did pull through, then he wasn't going to hide how he felt, he would tell you that he loved you too.

It seemed like a hopeless dream at that point but then you did survive and Eddie didn't waste anymore time, he confessed his feelings and the two of you had been inseparable since.

Fuck, he could have lost you. Nightmares still plagued Eddie about how still you were or the blood all over your clothes...the sheer terror he felt when you whispered I love you then closed your eyes and said no more.

The only reason he knew you were alive is because El found a faint pulse.

Needless to say he never took for granted the fact that you survived, against all odds you were here sleeping soundly beside him, the soft sound of your breathing was like a balm to his chaotic thoughts.

He peers up at you smiling as he sees you're fast asleep, expression peaceful, a tiny smile on your face. Briefly Eddie wonders what you're dreaming of? He hopes it's of him; just dreams that are sweet and untroubled.

They had enough of trouble for a lifetime.

Eventually Eddie begins to feel tired, he leans up just for a moment to press soft kisses to your forehead, your eyes, nose and then your lips.

Nearly losing you and the thought of never seeing your beautiful face again, hearing your laughter or your voice had scared the shit out of Eddie. So every day he's with you he thanks his lucky stars that you're alive.

He never gets tired of memorising every little detail of you, listening intently to you and holding you as close as possible to him whenever he can.

Eddie intends to never miss a moment of your time together because he's lucky that you're still here and in his life.

And he doesn't want to miss a thing.

❤️

Lying close to you feeling your heart beating, and I wonder what you're dreaming, wondering if it's me you're seeing.

And then I kiss your eyes and thank god we're together and I just wanna stay with you in this moment forever.

Forever and ever

I don't wanna close my eyes, I don't wanna fall asleep. 'Cause I'd miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing.

I don't wanna miss a thing- Aerosmith

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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[kisskiss-slashslash]

Slashers accidentally killing their witchcraft s/o but a few minutes later they revived again and they find out that they are actually immortal?

Ty and have a great day <3

Here you go!

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Allusions to amputation

Slashers accidentally killing their s/o only to find out they’re immortal

Jason Voorhees

His machete slipped out of his hand, and time seems to slow down as it heads straight for you. There is nothing he can do, it all happens so fast, and before he even knows what is happening, you’re on the ground, the blade buried in your chest, down to its hilt.

His whole world is anguish. Memories of the night his mother died are flashing through his head. First her, now you. And this time, it was all his fault.

He sinks to his knees next to you without paying any attention to the escaping victim, and cradles you against his chest, hot tears dripping from under his mask onto your face.

You groan. “Hey… Jason? Love? Could you please pull the machete out? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He looks at you with wide eyes. You return his gaze sheepishly.

“I… I guess I should have told you that I kind of… can’t die.”

Wait what? He tilts his head at you.

“Yeah. You know. Practising witchcraft has its perks. Now please…. the machete?”

Needless to say he is torn between being angry and relieved. Could you not have told him that before he essentially relived his past trauma?

Vincent Sinclair

He mistakes you for a victim. He lost sight of the last survivor of the current group, but he can hear someone right next door.

He strikes before he can see who it is. And it happens to be you, now with his carving knives sticking out of your neck on both sides. When he realizes what happened, he reflexively pulls the knives out, and you are already on the ground, blood pouring out of the wounds.

He drops his weapons in horror and rushes to your side. You are losing too much blood, there is little he can do… But soon the wounds seem to close up again with no issue, and you sit up.

“Vincent, honey. Next time, please look before you slash. Okay? This would have gone horribly wrong if I weren’t immortal.”

You still look a bit ashen, but seem otherwise okay. You assure Vincent that while you may be a bit more tired and lethargic until your body managed to regenerate all that blood you lost, there won’t be any long-term damange.

Freddy Krueger

It’s a prank gone wrong. Freddy assumes that, as his s/o, of course you aren’t afraid of him, so he can feel free to play rough with you in the dreamworld. But love or not, appearantly there is a tiny sliver of you that is at least a little afraid of him and his powers. Which is unfortunately only something the two of you notice when your stomach gets sliced open while Freddy tries to tickle you.

“Ah shit… fuck… bitch… we’ve been together for so long, how the FUCK are you still afraid of me?!” He panicks and tries to stop the bleeding and you… you start laughing.

“Freddy, you can stop. I can’t die. The whole witchcraft thing, remember?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You double over and clutch your stomach, both from laughter and to keep your guts from falling out. It *is* pretty adorable how worried Freddy is for your safety. And in the end, even if he can technically hurt you, your immortality still means that you can play rough with each other.

Brahms Heelshire

Another one of his fits of rage, after which he finds you on the ground, bones broken and with blood pouring. He stares at your remains in horror.

“Hey…”

He kneels down next to you and shakes you.

“Hey, get up. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please. Get up… don’t leave me…” He starts sobbing, uncontrollably switching between his child and adult voices in his distress, until he feels you gently pat his back.

“You’re grounded”, you say dryly. “Just because I’m immortal doesn’t mean I’m down to being your punching bag.”

“Yes. Yes of course. I’ll be good now, I promise”, he sobs, relieved that you are okay after all.

Bubba Sawyer

He accidentally touches the button that switches on his chainsaw while the two of you are fixing some malfunction. The saw buries itself in your torso, sawing through bone and soft muscle and organ alike. Your blood sprays through the room, and Bubba howls with terror while desperately fumbling to turn it off again.

He finally manages to, after a few seconds. But the damage is already done. His hands are cupping your face, running through your hair, knowing that after an injury like this, there is nothing he can do. He just whines softly, trying to somehow comfort you, if you can even still hear him.

“Geez”, you sigh, with some difficulty. The saw completely shredded one of your lungs, after all. “Good thing that it missed my spine; regenerating that would have been a pain.” You look up at him and are met with Bubba’s teary gaze.

“Bubsy”, you coo softly. “I’m fine. I don’t die that easily. Give me a week to recover and I’ll be good as new. So no tears, okay?” You raise your hand to wipe away the tears from under his eyes.

When Drayton later learns of this day’s events, he asks if you can also regenerate limbs, like, say, a leg. You will have to firmyl tell him that you are *not* going to end up being the family’s primary meat source.

[waltzchristophh]

SANTINO LOVES YOU ♡ drabble + headcanons

sonny corleone x reader

Sonny was a frequent at the corner market your step father owned, collecting dues for paid protection and most of all, pestering you.

Please leave comments if you enjoyed!

Your eyes lifted from your book of poetry to the suspicious grocery patron as he stashed a blood orange into his pockets, holding a finger to his lips.

Shh.

The curly haired gangster maintained a subtle grin, pestering you further. That was enough. You stood from the cushiony saddle you rested upon and stomped furiously in Sonny's direction.

"Give it to me," You demanded with an extended hand.

"What? This?" The orange fell from his pocket and rested between his fingers. "You want this?"

Before you could snatch it back, he held the piece of fruit over your head like a cruel older brother.

"Oh, I don't think you're getting this back, sweet pea."

You maintained your dignity by refusing the jump for it, and instead took a different approach.

Your fingers crawled the length of Sonny's strong sides and lept to tickle Sonny's armpits while he still had his hand in the air.

He doubled over in laughter as you wrestled him for the orange. Soon the two of you were entwined in a fit of raucous laughter and giggles. A hastle that seemed nowhere near 89 cents.

"Quit it!"

"Sonny!"

Your step father's gut entered the room before he did. "Ay, Sonny."

The tackling immediately stopped, and the two of you brushed yourselves off, inching away from each other.

Finally Sonny broke the silence.

"Dunno why you bother paying my father; looks like she's got you covered," he shrugged with a grin.

---

headcanons

Your flirtatious affairs eventually turned into actual dates with Sonny knocking on your father's window with his jacket hung over his shoulder

"I'd like to see your daughter."

Within a few months you were one of the family.

You weren't completely oblivious to the family business, often pressing your ear to the door until Sonny caught you and shook you silly.

"C'mon what's'a matter with you?"

"But I can help!"

He rushes you away before explaining the situation: that it was unprecedented for women to be involved in the internal affairs of the Corleone family business.

Several months later after giving much thought to it, he began advocating for you're inclusion in the "family meetings" with full faith in your judgement

"She's a smart cookie, and she knows the trade well, her father owns a Bodega in Queens. They've got intel."

Vito took a liking to you as a young respectable woman, who wasn't afraid to put Sonny in his place.

Your conversations with him were pleasant and you loved hearing his stories about life back in the old country.

Needless to say, he was on board with this change.

A woman (non-italian at that) participating in male discussions was unprecedented. You challenged those norms and Sonny thought that was one of the sexiest things about you

"She may not have italian blood, but she has a strong italian heart, and thats good enough for me. Any questions?"

Any time clemenza tries to interrupt

"Woah, woah, woah- let 'er fucking finish first ya fuckin' jackass."

The two of you making fun of Carlo's flashy clothing at family dinners, which were almost weekly

"Would ya take a look at that fuckin' idiot. Cant believe hes marrying my sister," Sonny's hot breath whispered in your ear.

The two of you would be left in damn near tears of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Carlo would ask cluelessly.

Playing Gin rummy with the fellas and beating them almost every time.

Clemenza dropping his cards in disbelief

"That's my girl," Sonny smiles. "C'mere baby," as he smooches your forehead and cheeks.

With Sonny, every day was a beautiful miracle of joy, but when your father died a pit of sadness darkened your heart and your entire world went black.

He dried your tears with his hard thumb, looking down at you somberly

"Just let it out, honey. I'm here for ya. You're not alone, baby I'll never leave your side."

Looking up at him, hands entwined and sniffling a gentle smile

"It feels like my hands were meant to be held in yours, Sonny. I love you."

"I love you too, pumpkin."

Burying your nose into his chest and inhaling the musky fragrance of his Italian cologne and Cuban cigars.

'Poor butterfly by Sarah Vaughan playing softly on vinyl

Swaying with him to the music as he holds you closer to him. So close you could feel his heart beat to the rhythm

His lips caressing yours with loving tenderness

Monthly vacation to Sicily

Hanging over the edge of the balcony, allowing the straps of your satin nightgown to slip and fall from your shoulders

tipsy with old wine

He trails behind you, snaking a cool hand up your spine and holding your neck

Turning to face him and smiling like a mischievous child, tugging at his gold chain

"I want you to kiss me Sonny. Kiss me till I'm sick of it."

PLEASE COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED :)

[modelbus]

Mcyt’s when you’re toxic in a game

I’ve been playing valorant lately, so why not? When I say toxic I mean more of a fun toxic, not violently bullying if that makes sense.

Mcyt’s included: Tommy, Dream, Sapnap, Wilbur

Tommy

Flabbergasted

He’s never seen you be so creatively aggressive before, not towards others in a game.

He immediately starts laughing though, so hard that he pushes his chair back and nearly falls out of it. He does die in the game though, not even caring about that.

You laugh with him, the sound of his laughter infectious.

The second he’s back he’s jumping to insulting others with you, and the two of you start tag-teaming your (not so) innocent teammates.

"Go play fortnite" may or may not have been used, along with the classic "step on Legos."

“Wait, I’ve got this one, I’ve got it!” Tommy exclaims, and the sounds of him frantically typing can be heard over your call.

“Make it good, come on.” You urge.

“I’m typing! I’m typing!”

The second his typing noises stop, a message appears in chat for all players to see. “I’m about to build a bible and pray for better teammates” it reads.

There’s a moment of silence over the call before the both of you burst into loud laughter.

The two of you can’t be toxic together for long though, because by the end of one match you’re both laughing too hard to think.

Dream

Dream’s a lot like Tommy, definitely.

Laughing, a bit of surprise.

But years of Sapnap have prepared him for his toxic arc, he’s been secretly keeping his toxicity inside the entire game.

He barely needs a moment to read over your chat messages before sending his own, each getting more and more outlandish.

Let’s be honest, he’s trying to impress you with his creative insults that just barely manage to bypass the chat filter.

And let’s not get started when the other team is toxic back, your voice call quickly becomes shouts of wounded egos.

“They called you an idiot sandwich!” You yell, catching the message before Dream does.

“Who the fuck are they?! GORDAN FUCKING RAMSEY?!” He yells right back. “We have to kill them now. We HAVE to.”

“I’ll do it, they’re so bad that I can beat them with my eyes closed.”

And, true to your word, you kill them nearly instantly when the next round starts. Dream cheers you on the entire way before he dies.

Needless to say that the person who killed him starts the cycle again.

If either of you goes too far though, Dream would pull back and insist on finding a better game.

He's not looking to get banned, how else can the two of you be toxic again later?

Sapnap

This is the KING of toxicity

Okay, maybe not king, but Sapnap can be toxic when he wants to be.

He doesn’t need any time, not even a breath, before he’s down in the trenches with you, flying insults at the other team.

There’s a little bit of laughter, but creative toxicity is serious business between the two of you.

The call is full of yelling, and conferencing on the best insult to send at the other players.

While you are avoiding the swear-blocker and any chance of being reported, Sapnap simply does not give a fuck.

It barely takes five minutes before he’s kicked out of the game for his insults, leaving you alone.

You’re both so surprised at the suddenness of it that the call goes completely silent.

"...huh." You say after watching his icon vanish and a message appears showing he was taken out.

"I got- I was- I'm on a penalty." Sapnap groans, and you can imagine him slouching down in his chair.

After another moment you speak up again. "What do you think did it? Which message? The anteater one? The rotten milk one?"

"No fucking way, it was when I said I was going to pay them to delete their account." He laughs.

"I stand by that you should've done it."

You make sure to win the game for him, but not without one last message.

"Game so easy it might have been the tutorial."

Wilbur

Wilbur, oh Wilbur, he is afraid of the ban hammer.

When you start sending messages he finds it funny, but he doesn't join in. He doesn't tell you to stop, either, so it's a win for you and you keep going.

After a minute or so he'll join in, but only verbally in the call between you two.

Soon enough you're stealing his insults to send, and the reaction from others prompts the both of you to create new ones.

They aren't ever directly mean, either, which makes them so much better.

"Even your imaginary pets are ashamed of you :("

After a while the layers of the insults get so deep they're just a confusing mess to people who aren't you two.

And it's still the funniest thing in the world.

The other team is aware it's an insult, but they can't figure out how, meaning you can say whatever you want and not get reported.

"Here's one, they shoot worse than Hamilton." Wilbur suggests, and you quickly type it up.

"We're the Burr to their Hamilton." You laugh.

Wilbur dies seconds later, groaning. "My backup was a glob of snot, please inform them of that."

Hell if you have any idea what that means, but off it goes for his backup to figure out. This was the most fun you've had playing a game, your face starting to hurt from how hard you're grinning.

Most of the insults he inputs tend to be history related: "Someone is putting this game into their resume for the United Nations", and "he's roleplaying as JFK."

The insults are creative enough that they stick for days afterward, and the two of you exchange them in the company of others, leaving them all confused.

[eddie-brii]

So, I blame @dipperscavern for this. I was minding my own business and found the post about a firefighter au. I, as a paramedic and firefighter in RL, had to fulfill the now moral obligation to write this. AKA I wanted to picture Cregan Stark in a FD uniform and Bunker gear.

This is only a TEASER for a fic I'm calling Sirens and Hearts of Fire for right now. It will be a first responder Cregan Stark x first responder reader. I have a lot more to add until I'm done and, honestly? I'm already coming up with so many head cannons for this au!

Side note: if anyone has questions about what something means, please go ahead and message me. I will happily answer it. 😊

Please enjoy.

“Medic Short Shit! Please report for duty!” was shouted by a deep, northern accent across the fire bay.

“Shut the fuck up, Lieutenant Stark! Not everyone can be as tall as a fucking tree!” She shouted back from the back of the squad. She heard laughter ring out from the guys in the day room and had to roll her eyes.

She knew she was late to the morning meeting but the check off was almost done. When joining the Winterfell Fire Department two years ago after job opportunities dried up in the Stormlands she hadn’t quite pictured being this comfortable. Most of the major FDs were fully staffed and openings were fought over by a few dozen applicants. It was better just to relocate since she didn’t have any roots set down in Storm’s End. It was interesting to say the least. Most of the people she worked with were legacy fire with founding members in their family lines. The Starks, Velaryons and Targaryens being the most noted with five generations of firefighting.

She quickly checked the last cabinet and marked off in the book that it had everything it needed before putting away the binder by the airway seat. She huffed as she got out of the squad and hurried over to the meeting. Cregan and Jace were waiting at the door to the crew area of the station with a half grin on the latter’s face.

“Finally decided to join us, L.T. Spitfire?” Jace said, using the nickname the department had given her. He was clearly enjoying irritating her this early in the morning before coffee.

“Maybe if someone whose name starts with a J and ends with an Ace didn’t steal Luke away when he was supposed to be checking off the back up squad, truck check wouldn’t have taken so long. Besides, we both know Baela had a rough night on the Medic and there was a lot to restock.” She huffed as she moved passed them. She heard Cregan chuckle as she did, ignoring the shiver that wanted to go through her body at the sound. Cregan Stark was what every woman dreamed of when they thought about Firefighters. Strong, handsome, looked wonderful in and out of bunker gear. And he was entirely off limits in her opinion. Especially after she was told his longtime girlfriend, Arra, died in a car accident.

From what Baela had said they were going through EMT-basic class together when it happened. Cregan responded to the scene with the others on the engine and had been nearly inconsolable with she had been a DOA. He took close to a year off from the job as he tried to piece himself back together. His father and other department members finally managed to get him to come back not long before she joined. Needless to say, the crush which she developed on him went unspoken after she heard that, despite Baela swearing up and down it might be time to say something.

She waved to Chief Stark as she entered the kitchen and went to the coffee maker, pouring some into her favorite mug while ignoring the chuckles of the other crew members around the room.

“Squads up to par, Lieutenant?” Rickon asked, unbothered by her lateness to the group. She gave a thumbs up as she took her first drink of caffeine, the dark liquid already helping her perk up. She sat down next to Luke and Ben, the former giving her an apologetic look with a sheepish smile for leaving her by herself this morning. Ben was practically glued to his own mug as he looked over cardiac rhythms on his phone, trying to memorize them. Both had their books on the table for paramedic class. It was clearly leaving the two younger men haggard, and it was only going to get worse.

Chief clearing his throat tore her attention away from the guys and the chatter through the room quieted as everyone listened to assignments for the shift.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here let’s get started. Seat assignments are up on the board along with upcoming trainings. We need to wash the trucks today and keep an eye on them throughout the next few months before it gets too cold. Make sure they look good while we can.” Chief said. As he went through the morning debrief, he paused for a moment as he looked over some paperwork next to him.

“Pyke FD has also reached about having us join them for an open water rescue training in the coming months. Speak to Manderly if you’ve got questions or want to volunteer. We’d like to see a good level of participation as this is a good opportunity for the department.” At the chief’s words she blanched, she could almost hear the underline expectations for them to sign up for it. She remembered the last time they had to deal with Pyke and their members, one in particular coming to mind.

“I swear, if fucking Greyjoy starts his shit again…” she muttered under her breath, earning a few chuckles from around the room. She heard a displeased grunt from somewhere behind her but choose to ignore it. Chief shot her a look before shaking his head, continuing over some vehicle maintenance before finally dismissing the meeting and retreating to his office.

She sighed as drank her coffee, scrolling on her phone and barely paying attention to the different conversations that now filled the space as the crew started making breakfast. Mormont manning the stove while the others set out plates and silverware. She was finally brought out of it when Ben tapped her shoulder, a confused look on his face as he held out his phone.

“This is a second-degree heart block Mobitz type II, right?” He asked, the poor guy looked ready to pull his hair out at this point. She took pity on him, taking the phone and watching the rhythm before she answered.

“Yeah, you’re right. I think you’re finally getting the hang of cardiology, Ben.” The shy firefighter almost looked ready to let out a whoop, clearly happy he was getting over his biggest hurdle in class. Luke joined in the conversation, asking questions along with Ben about the hiccups he was having and asking about IV medications. After a while they were interrupted by Cregan and Jace sitting across from the trio, both setting down plates of food for everyone. Before long the rest of the crew had sat down to eat. Most of the conversation revolved around sports, new tools, and plans for the summer while they had good weather. She didn’t pay much attention to it while she ate, still annoyed at the idea of dealing with Dalton. She didn’t notice anyone trying to speak to her until a hand was smacked down on the table across from her.

“Earth to Spitfire, come in Spitfire,” Jace said dramatically while he leaned back.

“What, your highness?” she huffed when she came back to the conversation around her. She couldn’t help but notice that Cregan seemed on edge with whatever Jace had been talking about, his brows knitted together as he looked back and forth between them.

“So how are going to deal with Greyjoy this time around? I doubt he’s going to just give up after you told him off last time,” Jace pointed out before taking a bite of bacon. It was at this point Cregan set down his coffee mug, giving the brunet an exasperated look before he spoke.

“Chief said it’s voluntary, she doesn’t have to go if she doesn’t want to.” He said firmly, clearly as annoyed about the idea of seeing the Ironborn again as much as she was.

“Oh come on, Lt, you know when your dad says something about participation it always means he wants as many people to go as possible. I’ve already checked and it’s not our unit day so he will want to see us there,” Luke added in before he finished off his breakfast. He got up to take his and Ben’s dishes to the sink.

“I second that. You know he’s going to want to have as many of us there as possible. Plus, I don’t like the idea of not being there if something happens one of you guys. You know the Iron Isles are short on medics right now. Not ideal,” she reasoned. As much as she disliked the idea, she wasn’t going to possibly leave her guys without proper care.

“Be that as it may, I don’t think he’s going to blame you if you opt out of this one. He wasn’t exactly happy with how Dalton acted either after I told him. As an officer at Pyke, that was completely unprofessional of him.” Cregan’s argument made her stop mid-bite. She put her fork down as she tried to keep her sudden irritation down.

“What the hell do you mean you told chief?” she said as she narrowed for eyes at him.

“Easy Spitfire, it’s not what you think. It needed to be reported since it was at a training. Chief Blacktyde was grateful that we informed him of the misconduct of one of his officers and said he would handle it.” Cregan tried to calm her down before she went off on him, his hands raised slightly and an amused smirk tugging at his lips. She tried not to huff as she picked up her fork again and shoved some eggs in her mouth. She eyed him as she chewed before she swallowed her food down.

“While you have a point, it still would have been nice to know you told your dad about it,” she said begrudgingly, still annoyed but seeing his point. “Although, that means there should be no issue with me going to the training then, should there?” It was now Cregan’s turn to look irritated as she countered him. She hid her grin by taking another drink of her coffee when all he did was grunt in response. She noticed Jace giving Cregan a look that the lieutenant deliberately ignored while he continued eating. She didn’t think much of it at the time.

She finished off her coffee and breakfast before getting up to hand off the dishes to Locke at the sink. She nodded to the squad crew members that had finished their food as well, getting them up to get the trucks washed for the day.

As she went out into the bay and started heading towards the premiere squad, Luke and Darry went to fill the buckets. Ben grabbed the brushes as she pulled the truck out. Luke started to hose down the squad, wetting down the bright blue apparatus before two of them started scrubbing. Ben went to pull out the back up to be cleaned as well, the older truck a slightly darker shade of blue with an older department logo on the side. She still wasn’t quite used to the different colors they used in the North compared to the Stormlands, the southern region using different shades of yellow for their emergency vehicles. At least it wasn’t the green that the Reach had. She still couldn’t believe the lime green the Oldtown FD used for theirs.

The engine and rescue crews came out not too long after them, pulling out and getting started on their respective trucks. Soon the smell of car soap filled the air as the occasional shout was heard when someone accidently got sprayed with hose. She was silently cursing as she tried to scrub the bugs off of the top front of the squad. The splatter almost seeming baked on as her arms started to ache from the angle she had to hold the brush. She heard the sound of boots coming up behind but didn’t pay it any mind until she was suddenly lifted up onto someone’s shoulder.

“Cregan! Put me down!” She said as she tried to avoid hitting him with the handle of the brush for flailing. She found herself gripping his other shoulder with one hand as her torso was half leaned over his head to keep her balance. Once she was steady, she looked down at him like he was crazy.

“You looked like you needed some added height, Medic Short Shit,” he said with a chuckle, clearly unaffected by her weight.

“Don’t you have your own truck to wash?!” she said, trying to sound irate but didn’t quite succeed as a mix of panic and a touch of something else pitted in her belly. She sent a pleading look to the other guys but several of them held up their hands in surrender as they tried to keep from laughing at her predicament. She mouthed “traitor” to them as she kept a death grip on Cregan underneath her.

“It’s already done if you haven’t noticed. Now get to scrubbing, Luke needs to hose off the soap soon,” he said before readjusting his hold on her legs, securing her enough to make her loosen her hold on him. She grumbled as she carefully straitened up, beginning to clean the bug splatter off again as she slowly relaxed on his shoulder.

After she gotten off what she could, Cregan stepped back from the truck as Luke got to work. She passed off the brush to Darry before Stark slowly lowered her down. She breathed a sigh of relief as her feet finally touched the ground again and sagged back into Cregan as his arm came around her midsection to keep her steady.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” He was grinning down at her, still find her reacting amusing.

“You know I don’t do roofs for a reason…,” she muttered. She wasn’t nearly as irritated as his hand on her hip distracted her but she wasn’t going to let him see that. Before he could say anything, Bolton took that opportunity to open his mouth.

“Hey lieutenant, you think you can stop flirting long enough to help get the bay swept out while it’s quiet?” At his words a collective groan came from everyone.

“Damnit Bolton! You know what that word does!” Locke said as he started to rush relaying hose.

“What? It’s not like it actu-,“ Bolton was cut off as the tones dropped for their station.

“Station 1, Station 1, need a squad to respond to 248 Arrow St for a male with chest pain. Time out 0823,” came across the station loudspeaker. Luke, Darry, and her already getting into the squad before the dispatcher finished.

[dutifullyscreechingdragon]

Blitzø X human!assassin! Reader

First encounter

Summary: Blitzø gets a commission for your murder. Naturally, you'd prefer not to get murdered. Unlike his previous victims, you actually have the skills to avoid bullets... And to charm the imp.

A/n: This is the first part of the short series. I will definitely post at least two more parts. Here you have links to all the parts currently available:

Part 1: First Encounter -> you're here:)

Part 2: Blooming feelings

You were an assassin

But unlike Blitzø, you were selective in your targets. You didn't JUST kill. You killed the worst of the worst: rapists, murderers, basically the scum of the Earth

No wonder, you ended up on Blitzø's hit list. You had a lot of enemies in hell, it was only a matter of time, until one of them commissioned your death.

Yes, your line of job was dangerous and demanded killing people. You know what else it demanded? Not being killed in return

Which is why Blitzø's first assault on you failed miserably:

You were walking down the street, minding your business, really. You were off work (aka not killing people at the moment). A rare occasion, which is why you decided to use it to the max and enjoy your day to the fullest. So yes, you were making your way down the street.

That's when the shooting started. To say you were pissed would be an understatement of the year.

"Come on" you grumbled falling to the ground, trying to avoid the bullets "Why can't I have a single day without having to fight for my life?"

Blitzø didn't expect this to be a hard job.

He didn't think of you as a strong or capable, for that matter, oponent.

You didn't think this fight would last long.

You didn't think your assailant was very much capable either.

Needless to say, both of you were very much wrong.

Half an hour has gone by and your fight was still in progress. You were currently behind a car, which was starting to get filled with more and more bullet holes.

"Hey! Maybe stop wasting bullets?" You shouted in frustration.

"Wouldn't have to if you just died" you got a reply. You rolled your eyes. "And anyways, why are you bitching about my shooting? Like you could do better" his voice was grumpy, like a small child about to throw a tantrum

"Yeah, I actually could. I'd kill you with one"

"Why haven't ya then?"

"I forgot my gun at home" was your pissed reply

You heard laughter from the other side of your impromptu hiding spot.

"Haha that fucking sucks for ya, bitch"

"Yeah, I figured that much..." You said in resignation.

You risked a glance from behind the car and earned yourself a rain of bullets.

That's how you spent the next 20 minutes: exchanging quips, followed by series of machine gun fire and repeat.

Sometimes you had to change your place of cover, seeing as the assailant managed to destroy it or approach you from the side.

And finaly, time came for the question:

"Why'd you want to kill me anyway?"

"Well, hmmmm" the shooting stopped for a moment. 'Guess we're back to talking', you thought.

"How do I say it?" He continued nonchalantly "I got a comission to kill ya. Got paid hard cash for it. So soz, but ya gotta go babe. Nooooo hard feelings" he said in a childish, mocking voice.

"Oh! Who was it?"

"Whaaaat?"

"I mean, who payed for my ticket to the other side?" You clarified.

"Uhh just some dude named-"

"Wait! No! Let me guess" he didn't protest, so you started listing off names:

"Was it... Rogers? Adams? Smith? It must've been Smith, that son of a gun had it out for me" seeing as he didn't confirm it, you continued, "Not Smith, then. Uhhh Carols? Barnes? Danvers? No? Was it the leader of that cartel I shut down a month ago?"

Finally Blitzø had to interrupt and actually tell you who it was. He was startled (and slightly impressed) by how many people actualy wanted you dead

When he ran out of bullets, time came for hand to hand combat. You didn't disappoint him in this area either.

Aaaand you got a chance to get a better look at the guy. Though.... you had your doubts whether it was a 'guy'... His skin was red, with some white marks, and he had horns, long, curving slightly towards the end. From your rich experience with human beings, he definitely wasn't one...

You ducked from a punch coming your way and retaliated with a sweeping roundhouse kick.

"What's" you said between the heavy breaths of exhaustion "your... Name?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Blitzø, the o is silent" he breathed out "Yours?"

"Y/n" you replied

"Cool" he replied as a few more punches came your way. A bit later he continued:

"Now if you'd let me do my job..."

"Gosh, you're so stupid. This is so inefficient" you stopped abruptly, causing him to stop as well.

"I can't just let you go. I have to kill you!"

"Ugghhh, don't you get it? You should wait until your have at least 5 more murder requests for me. That way you get quantuple the amount of money. Gosh you're so stupid "

"So, you don't mind me killing you? Cuz, you see, that's kind of hard to believe, sweetcheecks"

"Look, I'm telling you the most efficient way to use your resources. I'm not telling you I'd be an easy kill...."

"Well I guess I could-" Blitzo was cut off by an explosion. The air was filled with smoke. In one swift movement, you jumped over a fence and a few minutes later you were on your merry way home.

You see, you weren't just idly hiding from the bullets.

You didn't have ammo, but you had knowledge and... Some chemicals you forgot to unpack from your bag. With your limited supply, you managed to produce some semblance of a smoke bomb.

And that's how you got away.

Blitzø tracked you down again. And you escaped. So he found you again, and you managed to avoid death oncemore

At first, you took your 'rivalry' seriously, you really did. But there's only that many times you can engage in mortal combat with a person before it becomes ridiculous to deny that there is more to it than just killing each other.

You realised, that you started to look forward to Blitzø's surprise attacks. And Blitzø realised that maybe sometimes he has been throwing off his aim on purpose

Both of you were scared to admit your feelings, but the whole endeavour was starting to cross the line to absurdity

Something needed to be done about it

So..... You took the initiative:

It was another fight. It was becoming a routine by now. This one, however, would end with a small twist

The smoke bomb went off, you could hear the shattering of glass and the revving of the motorbike. Y/n was gone.

"And she's gone..." Blitzø stated and was about to leave through the portal, when Moxxie pulled his sleeve:

"Sir, there's a card on the floor"

Blitzo picked it up, it was a note. In a neat handwriting the following was written:

Despite being sent to kill me

(and failing miserably),

you're chill

Call me:)

314 159 2653

You got a text this very evening

A/n: that's part 1! Hope you liked it:) The second part will encompass your and Blitzo's developing relationship… so.... Stay tuned ig

(I'll probably post it somewhere around 6th or 7th May?)

[puffin-smoke]

here me out here. In Guy's christmas decorating audio, he says, "I am a man of many talents but I know unequivocally that I'm a better cook than I am decorator." and then lets Honey do the decorating. So may I introduce...

Interior Decorator Honey

For the low low price of a vague knowledge of interior decoration, you can have:

Guy consistently asking Honey if he "sparks joy" and Honey keeps threatening to kick him out of the apartment.

Whenever Honey's stressed they start reorganising furniture, so sometimes Guy will come home to the sofa in the kitchen and a brand new coffee table, and immediately ask what's wrong.

Guy keeps saying that Honey is the "Feng to his Shui". Honey baby darling why do you love that man

Honey going into someone's house for the first time and having to physically restrain themself from talking shit. Vibrating with rage, muttering under their breath, exchanging looks with Guy while he dies of laughter. The moment the friend leaves the room? Blows up like Mt Vesuvius.

Has assumed someone was colourblind before because of the pillows they used. Needless to say that someone wasn't colourblind. That someone was Guy.

Dragging Guy to charity shops. Smile a thousand photons bright. (old person hobby LLLLLL)

Guy goes to charity/thrift stores and looking for furniture and decorations without Honey. If he can't find anything he thinks they'd like, he'll find whoever runs the shop and give them his number, telling them to call him the MOMENT anything cool comes in. Ohh that's why they love that man

Owns many a "festive napkin" (it's called bunting, GUY)

Hates minimalism with a passion. Just based on vibes. Maybe I'm projecting.

Snuck into Guy's room once when they were roommates just to reorganise everything. When Guy got back it felt like he was stepping into another world, a world that smelt considerably less like pizza and oh my fucking god Honey put it back

Also that sleek, modern aesthetic? They are going to kill you

AND HAVE YOU CONSIDERED: Honey making their own furniture. DID YOU THINK ABOUT THE IMPLICATIONS. Them utterly refusing to use IKEA furniture, and making their own; rolling up their sleeves and going ham with a hacksaw and a dream, learning how to do things with resin and how to make carpets, AND making a lil pizza heart carpet for Guy as an anniversary present. THEM GOING FULL SEXY CARPENTER WITH LIKE A TANK TOP AND MMMMMMM

[leiawritesstories]

How about from the firsts list "first time defending them"?

CUUUUUTE thanks for asking!!

500 followers celebration prompt fills

Word count: 650

Warnings: dumb high school bullies, swearing, mild angst?

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

As she walked out of the classroom, Aelin slipped her earbuds in, tucked her head down, and focused on her footsteps, trying to drown out the soft whispers that followed her everywhere she went. Have you heard what she did? I knooowwww, it's so shady! Ugh, I just know she buys her followers, the dirty--

Enough.

Enough.

She knew the nasty words were just rumors, just a bunch of stupid high school kids who didn't know what they were talking about, but they hurt all the same. And she knew she could never stop them; nothing she said would change the whispers. If anything, speaking up would only make people believe their wild, disgusting lies even more.

No words she spoke would ever convince the student population of Orynth High that Aelin Galathynius was anything other than a desperate attention-seeker whose stupid little TikTok was probably only followed by bots and creepy old pervs. She had that damn account as a way to escape her reality, but it had turned out to invade her whole entire life.

"Hey look, it's Aelinnnnnnn," snickered Chaol Westfall, a particularly chauvinist member of the football team. He was convinced that his quarterback status made him the king of Orynth High, despite the fact that he'd never come close to winning any kind of championship. "Gonna do a trend for us, Aelinnnnnnn?" He stretched out the syllables of her name, mimicking her TikTok username.

Aelin rolled her eyes, so beyond done with Chaol's bullshit, and was half a second away from snarking an insult or ten when another guy's voice cut in.

"You're just jealous that her little trends get a million times more views and likes than your shitty photos of your flabs, Westfailure," Rowan Whitethorn scoffed. "Y'know, steroids don't do shit when you don't actually hit the gym."

Chaol's face turned a surprisingly vivid shade of crimson. "How about I hit you, asshat?" he snapped.

Rowan set his backpack casually on the floor, rolled his neck, and cracked his knuckles. "Bring it on, Little Miss I-Lost-My-Virginity-To-A-Sock." Most of the people in the classroom, including Aelin, snickered, eagerly watching the drama unfold.

"Fuck you," Chaol grunted.

"You wish," Rowan smirked.

Snarling wordlessly, Chaol reared back and punched Rowan right in the stomach, just in time for the teacher to walk in and watch the quarterback punch the captain of the hockey team.

"Westfall!" the teacher yelled, breaking up the fight as soon as it started. "Leave. Now."

"B-but-but sir, he started it!" Chaol protested, stunned.

Mr. Vaughan, who happened to be one of the football coaches, folded his arms across his chest and glared flatly at Chaol. "Get your ass out of my classroom, Westfall. You're lucky if you're allowed to show your face at practice for the next two weeks." His glare only intensified when Chaol tried to protest. "Get. Out."

Biting his tongue, Chaol collected his backpack and hauled ass from the classroom. The class settled down, slowly dispersing back into their seats.

Aelin sat down in the seat across the aisle from Rowan and flashed him a grateful smile. "Thanks," she murmured. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah I did," he returned. "No jackass gets to talk to a girl like that."

"Chivalry? In this day and age?" Aelin mock-gasped. "And here I thought they said chivalry was dead."

"Maybe, but decency isn't." Rowan flashed her a boyish grin. "Oh, and I may or may not have asked one of my buddies to film that. He says it's already going viral."

Aelin had to clamp her hands over her mouth to smother her laughter. "Shit, I love that! I'll duet it to my account so it never dies."

Needless to say, Chaol Westfall became the face of every Orynth High meme for the next two years. Aelin called it comeuppance. And a little help from her good friend the internet.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

NCT Spooky Season [Day 13]

Thriller Night

TW: Horror Movies Genre: Romance, Comedy Pairing: Lee Jeno x Reader YN Pronouns: Not specified Word Count: 0.6K Prompt: Horror movies and chill (maybe)

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Notes: If you guys like horror movies this day isn't for you ahhhhhh Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

"Boo," Jeno whispered next to your ear and you yelped, only to be met by his laughter.

"You," you held back the remark when you saw him laughing, "are so lucky I love you, Jen," you moved over to give him more space to sit next to you and he picks up the remote on his way over.

"So, what's on the chopping block?" He asks while he hands it to you.

"Hmm, I want to be really scared," you muttered while flipping through Shudder, "like, scared shitless."

"Huh? You, you want to be scared shitless?" He asks with an obvious look of disbelief.

"Yes! I'm serious, Jeno, I have to get over my fear of horror movies somehow," you mumbled.

"Sure, and watching a really good horror movie will do that?"

"I'm positive."

"In that case," he holds his hand out and you place the remote in it, "are you sure you want to do this?" He asks in a serious tone.

"Yeah, do your worst."

"Okay."

~

About thirty minutes into the movie you were shaking. Jeno really didn't hold back, and to be fair you told him not to so you signed up for this, but holy shit this movie was scary and somehow he was just unfazed, it was so unfair! At one point you had grabbed his hand, holding onto it so tight that you were sure his fingertips were growing numb, but he'll live. Well, so will you, but still.

Your fear of horror movies was one that you can't quite remember when it started. Maybe it was an accidental run-in with Chucky while late-night channel surfing back when you were younger, or maybe it was the Nightmare on Elm Street decorations, but needless to say, you didn't fuck with horror movies. But Jeno did. He loved horror and all things scary and you felt so bad that you couldn't indulge in this passion of his when he always tried so hard to participate in yours. So, fuck it, you were going to swallow down whatever fear you had and sit through one horror movie with him and build up to it. And when better to do this than the month of October?

"Are you scared," Jeno presses a soft kiss to your knuckles. You turned to him and nodded.

"Very."

"We can stop," he says.

"No, I have to do this," you turned back to the screen in time for a jumpscare to appear and you dived into his arms. Jeno held you securely and again he laughed while burying his face into the side of your head.

"(Y/N), it's fine! It's okay if you can't watch these," he laughs.

"But I want to, Jen, this is something you really like!" You pushed yourself up so you were near hovering above him.

"Well, I can't say that I don't like this," his hands settle on your hips and you swallow harshly. But when a scream ripped out from the TV next to you, you were quick to shut your eyes. Then, you felt Jeno press a soft kiss to your cheek and you opened one eye slowly.

"What was that for?"

"Why not?" He shrugs. "Can't help it when you're just right here," he helps you relax back down on his lap and, once you're snuggled against his chest, he pulls the blanket over both of you. "I can just tell you what happens, you know?"

"Yes, please, I hate the jumpscares but I have to know if she lives at the end.

"Spoiler?"

"Sure."

"She dies."

"No way! I was rooting for her!"

"That's just how these movies go, babe." The way Jeno could so calmly respond while you heard bloody murder coming from the TV was, to say the least, impressive.

"You... one day I'll be able to watch this."

"Sure, (Y/N), sure."

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[namtanlovesfilm]

I didn't even bring it up & my friend who doesn't know anything about off still told me she thinks he's 25 max... jumpol be tricking everyone into thinking he's younger than he is lmao

[meetmyothersouls]

i keep having a recurring dream where i’m tom hollands cousin (lol) and i was wondering if you could do a timmy x actress!reader where tom and zendaya try and set up timmy and reader:) if not it’s okay i just keep thinking about this lol

Omg what a fantastic dream!!

I’d love to, here you go ❤️

The Blind Date

Warnings: some language

“This is the third time this week you’ve brought me to the same restaurant, Z,” you said to your best friend. You and Zendaya met while filming with Disney Channel when you were kids. The meeting was accidental and happened when you slipped on a spilled icee in the studio hallways. She saw you from across the hall and died with laughter as she came over to help you. As she extended a hand she slipped and joined you on the floor and neither of you could get up for 15 minutes without laughing and falling again. Needless to say the two do you have been inseparable since then.

Zendaya and her boyfriend Tom were on a mission to pull you out of this slump you’d been stuck in and bringing you to some hole in the wall restaurant was their way helping you find ‘new happiness’ — whatever that was.

“I know, but I think it’s gonna work this time!” She said as she chose a booth in the back of the restaurant.

“What’s gonna work?”

“Nothing, just trust me!”

You rolled your eyes as you slumped in across from her and pulled your sleeves over your fingers.

“What about that guy?” She asked pointing to a tall, tanned blonde man. His black V-beck was tight on his arms. He was attractive but definitely not your type.

You scrunched your nose a little and said, “is that what this is, you’re trying to find me a man?”

“I mean…not really but why not shop around while we’re here.” She winked at you and you rolled your eyes in response but cracked a smile.

“What about him?”

You looked up. Tom Holland was walking toward your table. “You’re gonna set me up with your boyfriend?”

“No! The one behind him!”

You looked, and there he was. Timothee Chalamet trialing behind Tom Holland.

“Zendaya! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me Tom was bringing Timothee fucking Chalamet tonight. I look like shit!” You said in an aggravated whisper.

“Hush, you look great. Timothee has been dying to meet you, we talked about you all the time on set when we filmed Dune, don’t fuck this up — hi baby! Hi Timothee,” she said standing up and placing a kiss on each of their cheeks.

Zendaya hopped on the other side of the booth sitting next to you. Tom and a Timothee took a seat on the other side. Timothee across from you. A small smile appeared on his face as you both made eye contact. You returned it, but quickly looked down at the table.

“Timmy, I was just telling y/n that you were dying to meet her and you wouldn’t shut up about her on set.” You felt her nudge him with her foot under the table. We’re they really trying to set you up with Timothee Chalamet?

A shy chuckle, “yeah, we really did, honestly.” Another smile in your direction, and another hopeless attempt from you at making eye contact with him. Attempt failed. He was so pretty you couldn’t even look at him.

“Tom, I need help ordering drinks. Come with me.” Zendaya said. You knew what she was doing: forcing you to be alone with Timothee. Forcing awkward conversation you knew wouldn’t go well.

“Why do I need to — OW!” Tom started as Zendaya grabbed him by the ear and pulled.

Then it was just the two of you. Alone. You dared a glance at him. “Fuck he’s gorgeous,” you thought to yourself.

He looked very causal in a pair of loose fitting jeans, a flannel with a gray hood attached, a pair of converse and a baseball cap. At least he didn’t out dress you.

“I—” you started, but stopped as he began talking at the same time as you.

“Hah, sorry,” you both said in unison.

“Go ahead,” he said to you ducking his head a little.

“I was just going to say,” you stopped. Fuck. “I fucking forgot what I was going to say,” you admitted.

He let out a laugh, “its okay, you’ve left me kind of speechless as well.”

You looked up at him and blushed your hand went up to your mouth to cover your smile.

“I wasn’t going to come out tonight,” you said breaking the silence, “Z told me I needed to get out of the house and ‘explore’ something other than the pages of a book.” You rolled your eyes.

“You know, Tom said the same thing to me, but I don’t see what’s so bad about it,” he reached under the table pulled out an old weathered looking book from his pocket. Your heart skipped a beat. “I have to have a book at all times. Luckily this one is small enough to fit in my pocket.”

You looked at the book. 1984. A pocket version. The cover page was bent and creased and the pages looked like they had been read thousands of times over.

You picked up his book still flipping it over in your hands. “Sorry, you’ve left me speechless again,” you said as you slid his book back to him.

“I’m glad you decided to come out tonight,” he said placing his hand on top of yours which still rested on his copy of 1984.

You’re heart dropped into your stomach, “me too.”

Tags: @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @ifuckinghateme1 @fashphotolife @chicchanelcigs @scentedkittenperfection @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @weasleytwinscumslut

[thatweirdoleigh]

I'm here to beg for the fic where Klausy's girlfriend discover about his super vamp strength and found it fun

♡♡♡Pretty please♡♡♡

🥺🥺🥺

Vampire Perks.

Klaus Mikaelson x reader

Taglist: @imgoingtofreakoutnow @elijahs-wife @brown-eyed-babes

Summary; Fluff, some swearing. Only y/n gets away with shit like this bc Klaus is a big ol’ softie for his bae. This was originally going to be a whole thing but i ran out of steam. Sorry not sorry .

Klaus was having a good day. A wonderful day one might say. It was rather peaceful. Kol was causing mischief in quarter with Davina and Josh, Freya was at Keelin’s, Elijah was out on a date, Rebekah was backpacking through Europe and sending pictures via phone and snail mail every week, and Hope was with Hayley in the courtyard. Klaus had taken to painting her play from the second story, watching in amusement as Hope drew flowers in chalk. All in all it was a very good day. Until suddenly it wasn’t.

Klaus couldn’t help the involuntary yelp that he let out, as he was thrown over someone’s shoulder. There was a sudden rush of colors and cold air as he was carried somewhere. He certainly wasn’t expecting to be attacked, especially not in his own home. But before he could fight back or contemplate what was happening he found himself rather ungracefully being deposited onto a bed.

Standing over him, in all over her glory was his girlfriend with a shit-eating grin.

“y/n?” Klaus sat up on his elbows taking a quick inventory glance around the room, determining that he was in Kol’s bedroom “y/n? what the fuck?” She cackled in response.

“o-oh my god!” she stuttered clutching her stomach, tears of laugher starting to pool, “your face!” she hiccupped. “I wish I had filmed that. that was hysterical” she said in a breathy amused tone after her laughter had died down. Klaus confused out of his mind, only stared. “no seriously y/n what the fuck? What did you just do to me?”

“I was thinking about it and I wanted to see exactly how strong I was now that I’m a vampire. So then I was think ok well how can I test my strength? And then I remembered this thing my brothers used to do with me and then I thought about how hilarious it would be to see your reaction if I did it to you. So then I did.”

Needless to say Klaus was not amused, but y/n was. And to him that was all that mattered.

[officialscaramouche]

HOLAA 🕴 COOULD I ASK OF A READER THATS THE YOUNGEST HABRINGER (like teenager) AND LIKE THE HARBINGERS BECOME LIKE A FAM TO THEM AND OLDER SIBLINGS AND PLATONIC FLUFF? JUST IMAGINE MEAN SCARA LOOKING ALL INTIMIDATING AND THE READER NEXT TO HIM WITH THEIR PYRO VISION AND SOME FIREWORKS LIKE A CHAOTIC CHILD-

I didn’t explicitly say that they’re in ur little circle but I mean it’s pretty obvious ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

pairing: platonic Tartaglia x reader, platonic Scaramouche x reader

tw: there are two fucks

wc: 1,019

It was incredible how you could hold a ball of fire and not get burned by it. You wiggled your fingers as the flames warmed your hand, staring into the brightly colored fire intently, before crushing it between your fist. The dreadful feeling of embarrassment and shame washed over you as you recalled your recent assignment.

You were recruited by the Fatui not long ago. Apparently someone had died and you took their place. You were young, but you weren’t ignorant to battle. Growing up in Natlan taught you how to survive with only your fists. But the Fatui was more than you imagined on the day of your recruitment. “You’ll be acting as a representative of our organization,” the recruiter explained. “You are the full stop when things don’t go our way. And you will be face to face with strong opponents.”

“I can handle that.” You said simply, not truly knowing what was in store for you.

Your first assignment was given to you by the Tsaritsa herself. Her beauty and kindness fueled you with pride and excitement. The people around you warned you not to celebrate too early, but your fellow Harbingers told you otherwise. “You’ll do great,” one of them said.

“Something like this is easy.” A pair of twins said. “It’s difficult to fuck up reconnaissance.”

But somehow you did manage to fuck up reconnaissance anyway, giving away your team’s position to the enemy camp. You were overwhelmed and unprepared, as reconnaissance assignments don't require on-field battle equipment. At most, everyone was given a flare gun for MIA soldiers.

Needless to say, you were pretty embarrassed to meet with the Tsaritsa for an informal report. You were practically shaking in your boots while waiting for the Tsaritsa’s call, when one of your fellow Harbingers took the seat beside you. “What happened out there?” He asked, his hair matted and filthy from being in the field for two weeks. “You were deployed, like, three days ago.”

You buried your face in your hands and shrunk. You pulled your knees up to your chest and hid behind them so as to avoid making eye contact with him. “I messed up!” You cried, your voice muffled against your thighs. “It was all my fault! I slipped on some weak stonewall and fell right into their camp! My team was right behind me, with nowhere to go and no directions to follow!”

The harbinger put his hand on your back and pulled you in. He was the friendliest of them all, you thought, as he was always talkative and cheerful. “Ahh, it’s okay comrade! We all make mistakes!”

“Not like this,” you grumbled, peeking over to look at his blue eyes and vibrant orange hair. “I pushed all further assignments back by at least two months!” The man laughed at your worries and nearly keeled over in his chair. “It’s not funny, Tartaglia!”

“Don’t worry, I said! I promise you everyone is delighted about having their assignments pushed back. Except for maybe the ones on the field.”

“Huh?” You tilted your head. “I thought I was the only one out there? Who else was on the field?”

“Me.” You hear a hoarse voice behind you. You spin in your seat in shock, hoping to dear Archons that it wasn’t who you thought it was.

“The B-Balladeer!” You cry out anxiously. “I’m so sorry!!”

Scaramouche looked as cool as ever, despite not donning his mushi no tareginu. He had swapped his shoes for the building’s clean ones and was nearly in an entirely new outfit. The only exception was that he still wore his Harbinger badge and held his insignia, that is normally on his chest, in his hand. “It’s fine,” he kind of sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was out there with the twins. However, everyone was recalled.” Scaramouche took the other seat next to you, sandwiching you between the two Harbingers.

Tartaglia reached across you and pointed at Scaramouche. “What did you do about the equipment?” He chuckled as he spoke.

Scaramouche slapped the hand away from him and snarled. “What else do you think we did?! You think the recovery team will come out on such short notice?!” Tartaglia erupted into laughter, clutching his abdomen and throwing his head back. Scaramouche rose to his feet and grabbed Tartaglia’s grimey collar. “I really hate you, you know! You’re so annoying!”

Before you realized, you had a little smile on your face. It was relaxing having them bicker and make fun of each other, and made you forget all about your upcoming informal report. But when you did remember it, you weren’t the only one there to give one. They were here for that too.

Tartaglia raised his hands in defeat as his eyes swirled with dizziness. Scaramouche continued to shake the man by his collar with a nasty scowl on his face. “Thank you, guys,” you giggled, catching their attention. “I’m feeling much better now.”

Still in the Balladeer’s hold, Tartaglia sobered up and gave you a charming grin. “Everybody makes mistakes, [Y/N]. I’ll always be here to cheer you up and help you train.”

Throwing the man back into his chair, Scaramouche dusted his hands off of the dirt and sweat from Tartaglia’s clothes and coughed into a fist. “Yeah, me too or whatever. But I won’t be able to help you if you get written up.”

Tartaglia scratched his chin. “Oh yeah, we can’t do anything about that, sorry.”

You clap your hands together proudly. “That’s okay. I’ll give her my best pathetic performance and hopefully I can convince her to let me off with a warning!”

The men kind of chuckle at your comment before your name was called from the Tsaritsa’s room by her assistant. “[Y/N]!”

You feel the sweat running down your temple but there was nothing you could do about it now. “Kick some ass, [Y/N].” Tartaglia cheered, extending out a closed fist to encourage a fist bump. You lightly tap the backs of your fingers against his and steady your resolve as you stand.