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sunnydayaoe · 3 days ago

Text

{Dress up}

[CCCC FIC] Contains: Platonic Soul and Whole, sfw Petre[~4,500 words]

Soul really could not be normal. Clutched in His hands, the cutest little calico cat ear headband he'd ever seen. He gestured to himself, to Whole, to them, voice squeaky, "Is that-" for me? He really couldn't finish any sentence today, staring into His eyes: Deep brown and probably considering just how pathetic Soul was being. He shouldn't have asked. He could feel the shame, red like his halo in the midst of cacophony, creeping across his face. -- Dress up!!! Whole buys Soul some cat ears :]

Fic under cut! or on AO3

One would assume, wrongfully, that he would know better than this. He had assumed he knew better than this. Mocking him, taunting even, a little plastic bag carried the cause of his strife. Innocently sitting on his kitchen counter, contents spilling out the slightest bit: calico cat ears and a matching tail.

Pathetic to be so worked up over such a simple thing. It made him infinitely grateful Mind and Heart had left for a walk earlier and his Soul hadn't left its room for the day yet; Whole assumed he was just enjoying some alone time with both its ids and Whole out of the house.

He cringed as his thoughts drifted back to his Soul. The calico themed ensemble had been bought for him, after all.

Nothing was wrong with them, at a glance. Plush, soft to the touch, colored bright and cheery, they seemed exactly what someone who'd buy them would want out of them. What had drawn his eye in the first place, the signature black and orange splotching reminding him terribly of his Soul, looked charming even in the shitty kitchen lighting. He groaned, slumped over the counter, annoyed with how easily he was taken in by them.

It wasn't just that he'd gotten cat ears for his... friend, before he could think better of it. It was that Soul would definitely balk at the idea of wearing them.

He didn't think there was any shame in wearing cat themed paraphernalia, didn't even think Soul would find it shameful to wear them, but that wasn't the problem here. Soul already had fuzzy ears and a short little tail, rendering this wholly unnecessary.

Frankly, he would just look downright goofy in the whole ensemble. Curved, sharp horns with a cat-ear headband at the base, further down real goat's ears, and then even further a fake cat-tail to hang beside its real fawn. And, well... It would look cute. He just didn't think his Soul would have a similar view.

He slid his hand over his face, another noise escaping his lips. This was just embarrassing.

He knew Soul didn't need any new equipment for pet regression: at least, he'd never asked for or made any himself. Doing this, getting him things he definitely didn't want and would probably feel stupid wearing, was another tally in the mess he'd made of his Soul's existence.

He wished there was a guide to being someone’s... to being someone’s.

He'd flipped through article after article about " how to be a good roommate, " " all the things that only your good friends would do for you, " and even several blogs about being a good caretaker, yet none of them seemed to know the answers for all of... this.

He should throw them away. A waste of money, a waste of time, but what wasn't, nowadays? It'd be a bigger waste if Soul saw them and finally realized Whole wasn't worth as much as he clearly thought he was. He could see it so clearly. His Soul's eyes, wide with wonder and adoration darkening with understanding; seeing Whole for who he clearly was, a waste of time and effort.

Maybe that would be a blessing: getting it over with. It probably wouldn't fix anything. Soul- and Heart and Mind- were all stuck with him, their only Whole.

He shook his head. He couldn't be getting bogged down by thoughts like that now.

The bag was in his hand and he was halfway down the hallway before he could start overthinking again. His own trash-can would be best; he could just imagine the reactions if any of the three found his mistake in a more communal trash-can. He'd never live it down.

He made it to his room without interruption, thankfully.

With a 'oomf' he flopped into his desk chair, the bag ending up on the desk itself. He should throw it away, but...

The headband was in his hands, horribly soft. He fidgeted with it, and tried not to imagine them on Soul. Failed, like many other things, but the picture did bring a smile to his face. His Soul would look extremely goofy in them; adding the tail to the mental image brought out a giggle.

He was just having a little thought experiment before he threw them away, that was all. It wasn't hurting anyone.

Maybe this earned him karma's ire though, or maybe it was another bullet on the long list of problems he'd caused. Either way, lady luck was not smiling upon him.

His door creaked open, Soul peeking in, a smile drawing across his face in an instant. "Whole, you're back! Would you like to ha-"

He knew why he stopped.

Single visible eye dilated in, focused on the headband in his hands. It reminded him of that searching look Soul got on his face anytime he hadn't seen Whole for any notably long amount of time; searching, intense- looking for faults, for why he cared about him at all, probably.

"Is that...?" Soul gestured vaguely, like he didn't know what it was trying to say but trusted Whole implicitly to understand.

Whole did Not understand.

------

The day had been going well. Almost unreasonably well.

Heart and Mind had been civil, even affectionate, all morning. They'd left the house together some time early in the evening. A part of him {one he had been listening to less and less as of late} feared they wouldn't be returning, at least not in one piece. Most of him just hoped they got back early enough to join them for dinner.

Most of the unease was centered on the fact that Whole had gone shopping, though.

It made him feel clingy and a bit pathetic to worry so much when all He was doing was a simple errand, but oh, Harmonia, was it hard not to imagine something horrible happening to his Whole while he was not there.

It was fine, he could deal with it! Harmonia would return, probably with a little extra treat He'd gotten while He was out, and a satisfied smile. Getting out would be good for Him. Soul really should just... calm down.

That was what he'd tried to tell himself all morning, anyway.

He could feel the stress sinking in further, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up against Harmonia and forget all the stress of being apart. That would be dreadfully embarrassing though. He was probably going shopping to get away from them for a little bit {and, well... Shop.}, Soul attaching himself to His hip right as He got back would be tantamount to going right against Harmonia's will.

He could be normal! He... he could be normal just as soon as he gave Him a little check in. The footsteps, quiet as they were, let him know Harmonia had gotten back from His little trip. Maybe Soul could ask if He'd want lunch. Maybe they could eat it together...

He slapped his cheeks, shaking his head out like a dog. Getting ahead of himself again, daydreams filling his head. He needed to get a grip!

Just... just be normal, he reminded himself, with a final steadying breath. His door had been left open a crack, and with that note he pushed Harmonia's door open.

"Whole, you're back! Would you like to ha-" the sentence remained unfinished.

He really could not be normal.

Clutched in His hands, the cutest little calico cat ear headband he'd ever seen. He let out a near inaudible noise, though from what he could see He didn't seem to notice.

He gestured to himself, to Whole, to them, voice squeaky, "Is that-" for me? He really couldn't finish any sentence today, could he.

Whoever said that eyes were the window to the soul was clearly lying out of their ass, because what Soul saw in Harmonia’s eyes was not himself. Deep brown and probably considering just how pathetic Soul was being. He shouldn't have asked. He could feel the shame, red like his halo in the midst of cacophony, creeping across his face.

What was he waiting for? Soul to finish his sentence? That ship had clearly sailed and crashed… maybe he was trying to figure out how to let Soul down gently; that made more sense. His Harmonia was so sweet, of course He wouldn't want to be too cruel in His rejection.

Of course those sweet little trinkets wouldn’t be for Soul.

Whole moved, snapping Soul out of his thoughts immediately. Eyes wide, searching for any sign of what Soul was supposed to do. How he could be perfect.

His arms, holding the headband, had curled inwards. Like praying {like Soul}.

Harmonia, Whole, cleared His throat, like He didn't know what to say. He didn't say anything for a moment longer, awkward. Another cough. Soul was slightly worried He might just be sick. Soul's throat ached in sympathy, or maybe that was just because he'd stopped breathing.

"Soul-" He finally started, "This is- I just... I bought these earlier. Ah, while I was doing errands." He cringed, like He didn't really want to be talking about this. Talking to Soul.

Soul should probably answer, "Oh." No sound came out when he tried to continue, so he quickly shut his mouth. Maybe he would Not be answering with more than that. Maybe he should just walk out the door and dig himself a pit to lie in. Maybe Heart had the right idea.

Whole cringed back even further at that; Soul definitely made a mistake. Should he... try talking again? Before Soul could try another attempt at normal conversation, a futile effort, Harmonia was continuing.

"You can, ah, have them. If you want." He made a little motion to come closer; it was kind of an awful effort, motion aborted half-way through like He was embarrassed to be taking up more space than He already was.

It was all Soul needed though, and with a motion more practiced and sure than anything else that evening Soul had stumbled forward and landed on his knees before Him. The position, the cat ears it wasn't even wearing, the fact he'd felt stressed all day... It was hard to stay present, to not regress.

His Whole was already so stressed, He probably didn't want to deal with that right now. Soul could keep it together, for Him. {He knew he couldn't. Everything already felt a little fuzzy. Weak, but maybe Harmonia would forgive him.}

His face was a little twisted up, something sour that quickly smoothed out into calm. "Do you want me to put it on you...?"

Soul thought that was already the plan. He really kept embarrassing himself, didn't he? He did a little almost imperceptible nod, something Harmonia had to lean down to see.

Finally something that wasn't negative; He smiled, sweet and small and lopsided and perfect. "Let me..." He murmured, quiet, before slowly reaching out with the headband. Soul tried to stay still, really, he did. His efforts were fruitless, because the instant His hands dipped around his ears, gently sliding the headband on, he was had.

As if his body and mind were not one {ironic, because he was not the one split in three in this room,} he leaned into the hands with a hum. Warm, soft, kind. He made a noise at that, surprised and amused. With the smallest adjustment to the headband, His hands moved forwards to cup his face instead, tilting it up to stare up at Him.

"Cute...."

Soul's face was bright red. That didn't stop him from leaning in until nearly his entire head was supported by Harmonia's hands though. He scooted the smallest bit closer, head nearly in His lap.

Harmonia's thumb gently rubbing along his cheek was the last straw. He shouldn't have expected not to fall like this, He was just being too indulgent, affectionate. How was he supposed to resist...?

He nuzzled into His hands, shuffling the last few inches closer until he could set his head in His lap. Like a lapdog, or perhaps a very large cat, he looked up at Harmonia, eyes half-lidded. Harmonia seemed taken aback by his boldness, but Soul was too busy enjoying the feeling of His soft denim pants, skin-warmed, against his cheek to notice.

Another moment frozen, a moment where Soul started to almost regret his actions, almost came back up. It only lasted that single second though, His hands beginning to move again. One stayed against his cheek, the other drifting back behind his ear. "Are you a kitty right now...? I should have expected this." A ting of self deprecation, like He couldn't get over how stupid He was.

Soul wouldn't be standing for that, not when Harmonia was the definition of perfection. With a whine he nuzzled against his lap, staring up at Him with large baleful eyes. His arms reached up, paws on his knees. The picture of a pleading kitten.

He laughed, attention redirected back to Soul. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to worry you, bud."

That laugh was nearly angelic. Everything he’d ever need to hear for the rest of his life. He hummed, nuzzling further against Harmonia, trying to elicit more giggles and coos.

Anything to make his Whole happy. Anything to keep Him content to lower Himself to his presence.

It was like that for a few more moments, Harmonia’s hands carding through his hair. His nails were bit short, blunt, but still wonderful against his scalp. Still, like all good things, it could not last.

“Soul,” He started, before stopping. Words coming out before He’d considered them, or maybe the pause added in for some secretive sort of purpose Soul wasn't able to get, world so fuzzy at this point.

The lack of structure was unideal though. He couldn’t help but be reminded of that awful song He would sing when existence became too taxing. Each word drifting further and further from one another…

“Do you want off the floor?” A question interrupted his musing. "You can, ah-" He paused, the hesitance back, His face a bit red, "you can sit in my lap, if you want..."

He nodded with barely a moment's consideration. The floor was nice, if only because he had easy access to Harmonia. His lap, though…? That sounded heavenly.

The right answer, of course. Smiling down at him like a forgiving deity, practically glowing. It made him forget to start moving, just admiring instead. The smile faltered after a beat of him proceeding to do absolutely nothing, confusion clouding His eyes. Seeming to realize Soul wasn't going to be getting up himself, He reached down, arms a bit hesitant as they curled around him.

Of course Soul was nothing but relaxed in His arms, nearly going limp the second he could feel Him supporting him. A faux purr started up, the noise interrupted every other second with a giggle. He needed to calm down- but it was so so hard to, when He kept looking at him like that.

"And there we go!" With one last motion and a little scrabbling from Soul he was finally in His lap. "That better, bud?"

He nodded, face pressed to His shoulder. All the stress that had been plaguing him seemed to melt away in His arms, warm and present and undeniably there. It was hard, at times, to believe this was really his reality, but even dreams didn't feel this nice: undeniable proof that concord had been achieved.

And could anyone blame him? He’d like to see a single person who wouldn’t melt into these arms.

Gentle cooing, hands slowly carding through his hair… on second thought, the idea of someone else getting this instead of him sounded awful.

He cuddled closer, the side of his left horns bumping into Harmonia’s chin. In his haste, he finally noticed a detail about the calico cat ears: they had bells. Little jingly ones that made a sound anytime he moved his head. Delightful!

He shook his head, trying to get more of the clinking noises. This also earned him a squeak from Harmonia as his horns were shaken about as well.

He pushed Soul away the slightest bit, hands gentle on his shoulders, “be a bit more careful, bud? Those horns are sharp…”

He didn’t look too angry though, just amused at his giddiness. So forgiving and perfect! He leaned in to nuzzle his face, careful of His horns this time. His cheeks were warm and only slightly rough with stubble.

Harmonia laughed as he nuzzled against Him, trailing along the side of His head. Tucking his nose into His collarbone, he pressed the rest of his face to His neck. The way he shook and rumbled with laughs felt so nice…

His hands trailed along Soul’s back, lightly scratching just enough to feel through his shirt. Arching into it with a happy little hum, close enough to a purr to make him feel all fuzzy inside.

Then they stopped, leaving Soul to whine in confusion. Removing himself from His very comfortable embrace, head tilted back to look up at Harmonia, he let out another confused noise. Why no petting…? His Whole was smiling, crinkly in the corners like an old wrapper, saying cushy soft little things like, “don’t worry bud…” and “you can keep going,” so Soul probably hadn’t been Bad, so what could it be?

His attention was drawn to movement at the corner of his eye, Harmonia had reached for a bag on his desk. Plastic, probably from his shopping trip earlier… what could… oh!

Stoic and normally so composed, he could do nothing but perk up in excitement; was it a treat? Did He have a treat for the Soul? For being so very good and nice and responsible all the time?

His halo must have brightened at that, because He squinted a little, face scrunched up further, face painted a bit yellow by the light. He looked like what every painting Soul had tried to make strove to be: his Harmonia, bathed in the light of harmony.

He didn’t pay that any mind, more taken in with the possibility of a snack or toy. Shifting around and leaning over Harmonia's arms, using His chair for leverage he tried to stick his face into the bag.

“Wouh!” Harmonia snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him flush against His chest before he could investigate further, the chair wobbling precariously from all the sharp movements the two were doing, “settle down Atlas, I’ll show you in a moment.”

He squirmed and grumbled in His arms for a moment before doing as asked. Even without the treat this was still pretty nice…

With a flourish the treasure was finally presented to him. A matching calico tail to the ears he’d been given, equally adorable and colorful.

This confidence waned as quickly as it came, the arm around his waist relaxing and the hand holding the tail stiffening a little. “Do you like it…?”

He answered with a happy trill, head butting His hand affectionately, careful not to catch any skin, or the tail, with his horns. Harmonia relaxed into His chair with that, eyes softening with relief as He let His fingers card through Soul’s hair.

“Want help putting it on?”

He nodded, squirming around on Harmonia’s lap until He was in a position where He actually could put it on Soul, half straddling Him. His Whole’s arms reached around him again, one just holding him still against His chest and the other actually clipping the tail to one of his belt loops.

With that, He was done, leaning back to admire His work. Soul tried to do the same, but there wasn’t really much room to do so in Harmonia’s lap. He turned a bit, motions awkward and giving him very little opportunity to actually see the tail or feel it swish around.

Gentle, like He didn’t know if this would net Him a positive reaction, he offered a suggestion. “Would it be easier to see that out of my lap?” He quickly continued, not frantic but not wholly relaxed, “you can always sit with me later… I can just get some work done, and you can enjoy that yourself, on the floor nearby…? I ah… don’t really have any cat-toys…”

The idea of being separated from Harmonia wasn’t the most appealing, but he really did want to move around more… if he really could just come back anytime he wanted, there probably wasn’t any harm in a little play-time; if he didn’t like it he could just come right back.

With that decided, he slipped off Harmonia’s lap and onto the floor, already feeling bereft of His warmth. An encouraging, “have fun bud!” Kept him from returning straight away though; he was going to have fun!

Doing a tight little circle to watch how his tail moved around with the motion, he couldn’t help but feel a little euphoric at the swaying faux fur. It was very very cute. But maybe he went around a few too many times: he ended up a bit dizzy after.

It was very much worth it though, because all the spinning reminded him of the little jingly bells on his cat ears.

He gave it a good shake, admiring how clearly the sound rang out. Batting at it a few times for good measure, knocking it a little loose. Half-on half-off it wasn't as comfortable.

Trying to fix it, he brought his paws back to his head and tried to bat at it again. Of course, this only knocked it off fully. Landing on the floor with a few more little tinkles. He could have probably just grabbed it and put it back on, but it did a little bounce and it just kept Jingling and he was pouncing before he had a conscious thought.

Batting around the improvised cat toy was way more enjoyable than it should have been -maybe because Soul hadn't really gotten to play with toys in kitten space before.

Harmonia had stopped watching him after a little bit, and he let himself fully get into the zone. One, probably too forceful, hit landed the headband on Whole's bed.

He made quick work of scrambling over to the bed and jumping up, enjoying the way his tail trailed behind him when he moved fast enough. The springs protested the motion, but he paid them no mind, seizing his prize.

Mantling over it, he just enjoyed the fact he'd "caught" it. Slowing down like that let him process the fact he was in Harmonia's bed, too. Soft and unmade, it was, overall, extremely normal. That didn't stop a little nervous feeling enveloping him, scared he was doing something wrong.

Looking over, He didn't seem to be paying much attention, though after Soul stayed quiet for a bit He looked over. Apparently not seeing anything amiss, He gave a little wave, before getting back to work.

So this was... allowed. He guessed it makes sense, Whole hadn't made any other fuss about him being on the furniture as a kitten, so this wasn't that strange. Slightly more secure in the fact that he wasn't breaking any rules, he flopped over and cradled the belled headband.

His bed smelled nice {or well... it didn't smell That nice, but it smelled like Him}, and he couldn't resist the urge to roll around a little. He stretched, enjoying the ambience. It was.... pleasant;: calm. He hadn't really let himself relax all day, too many distinct variables to keep track of.

Now though... he could just relax in His bed, content that things were okay. Mind and Heart were still out, but that felt less pressing. He knew they were getting along now, spending time together...

And centering, grounding, Harmonia worked at his computer several feet away. Safe.

It was all just... so very nice.

------

"We're home!"

Heart and Mind had come back, Heart's cheery voice signaling their return. Just as his fingers were starting to cramp too, a sure sign Whole had been working too long.

He stretched out his hands with a groan, taking off his head-set as well. As he got up, his eyes were drawn to his bed, where Soul was sound asleep. He'd assumed the third had left, quiet for so long, but it seems he just tuckered himself out instead.

After a moment's consideration, he decided waking Soul up was probably for the best; it was around dinner time now, and the Sun and Moon probably grabbed food while they were out.

Creeping up to the bed, quiet in a way he probably didn't need to be-- he was going to be waking him up either way-- he sat down next to him.

His Soul was curled around the calico-themed headband, a relaxed smile spanning his entire face, halves mismatched but both softened by concord.

He touched his own face at that, surprised. The darkened half was supposed to mirror his own; he didn't know the last time he'd smiled like that. As if brought on by the attention, he finally noticed how much his face ached from smiling.

He shook his head, knowing he couldn't be dwelling on this. Focusing on the present instead, he shook his shoulder, "Soul? Can you wake up, dude?"

He curled up further, getting further into that catlike ball. Cute, if he didn't worry he was actually annoying him. Maybe he shouldn't be trying to wake him up...

The choice didn't seem up to him though, because there was a harsh knocking against the door. Three sharp raps: Mind. Its voice coming through a second later only confirming that, "We got dinner; get out here soon."

He called back an affirmative, trying to keep his voice down, but the effort was characteristically worthless. Mind wasn't one to control his volume, and he could already see Soul shifting to wakefulness.

"Hey Soul..."

"Urghgh- Harmonia?"

That word, usually he didn't use it out loud. It seems that was who he was to Soul still, "Dinner time, Heart and Mind came back."

He just blinked up at Whole, visible eye half-lidded and sleepy, "You're so pretty..."

He tried to ignore the flutters he set off in his chest, nervous, giggly, "Hey- hey. Eyes on the prize, dinner time."

He hummed, folding out in a cat-like stretch; he seemed to be categorizing the feeling of the bed before, almost like a flip was switched, he froze.

Sitting up like he'd been dragged up, he grinned at Whole, "Ah- morning." A glance at the clock, "Evening, I mean. Sorry to keep you here so long... it's dinner now, right?"

Hoping he wasn't overstepping any bounds, he placed a hand on Soul's shoulder, "Anytime, Soul. I'm just glad you enjoyed the gift."

The thirds hands shot right back to his lap at that, clutching the headband, like he'd forgotten it was there at all; the motion making it jingle all over again. "Yeah... it was nice."

Soul was still a mess from his nap, relaxed in ways he usually didn't allow himself, and Whole couldn't help but admire the way this experience had let him see that. See the way even stripped bare of his mask, he still looked at him like he hung all the stars in the sky. He still didn't know what he'd done to earn that.

He didn't think there was anything he'd ever done that could measure up. Maybe that was okay though. Maybe it was time to accept that he didn't have to earn every scrap of happiness in his life.

Another call from the kitchen, breaking the two out of their reverie.

He didn't mind, trailing after Soul to meet the other two in the kitchen. Warm, soft, another domestic day. He wouldn't have it another way.

#cccc #cj #chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #cj soul #cccc soul #cj whole #cccc whole #fanfiction #fan fiction #jbird's art #jbird's fiction

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cheshiresense · 2 days ago

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Hi, I love your time travel with Stark!!! He's one of my favorite characters, so I love reading your ideas about him and Ichigo. I was just wondering, how do Hallows react to Stark? As a former Hallow who healed himself, would they treat him like a normal soul, or would they know he used to be one of them? I'm just curious if you had ideas about that. Anyway, thanks for sharing your story idea, I love reading them!!!

Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying it!

I think generally speaking, they wouldn't know. I think that people can sense that it's a Hollow in the vicinity (as opposed to a Shinigami) because their reiatsu is hollow, it's not whole, it's missing pieces, fragmented in a way that a Shinigami's reiatsu wouldn't be. Like yes Starrk is technically still part Hollow, that's what he became, that's what he built himself back up from, and he can't just discard that part of himself, it's what makes up part of his soul, like scars you gain throughout your life. And his reiatsu is just naturally corrosive, it's an aspect of his power, so he can't get rid of that. But he's also a whole soul now, and at this point, there's actually not much of a difference in his reiatsu between his Shinigami and Hollow sides, he's perfectly merged. So there's that, and also ever since he learned how, his control's been second to none, so outside of a battle that necessitates major use of his reiatsu, he mostly keeps it under wraps since it can still hurt people and he's got a Thing:tm: about that. He probably keeps it at the level of an unseated officer, so enough for people to sense him coming but not really pick up anything else about it.

(Which reminds me, I actually also kind of headcanon that you can sort of tell how old someone is if you get a good enough feel for their reiatsu. Like obv not exact date of birth and age lmao, I just mean the older and more powerful someone is, the denser and heavier their reiatsu becomes, so if you're halfway decent at sensing reiatsu, you can sort of distinguish between someone who has just a handful of decades or a century or two under their belt, and someone who's comfortably into their hundreds, and someone whose reiatsu is just solid in a way that speaks of them having Seen Some Things, because you can't always tell via physical appearance but the soul remembers the years gone by. Ichigo is ofc an exception because he's part human, so like he prob reads around 60-100 years old to Kaien and co., esp when you put him next to Rangiku and Asuka, they sort of all read like the same age.

And all of that is just to say I absolutely want to write a thing for when Starrk finally lets his reiatsu out properly while Shunsui and Ukitake are right there and people will just be like why the fuck does this guy feel the same as the two thousand-year-old captains 😂😂😂)

#ichigo & starrk time travel verse #msg #anonymous

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raina-at · 23 hours ago

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Fic writer meme

Thank you so much for tagging me @discordantwords.

How many works do you have on ao3? 34. 6 SPN RPF (J2), 1 Supernatural (Wincest - if you have opinions about this, I don't want to hear them), and 27 for BBC Sherlock. I feel compelled to add though that my fandom history predates AO3 by about ten years, and that most of the fics I wrote during that time aren't on AO3. All of my TPM fics, all of my HP fics and most of my Supernatural fics are in fact not on Ao3. So I actually have no idea how many fics I've written since I started in 2001.

What’s your total word count? 585,261 words.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Don't Read the Last Page, Bakers with Benefits, Running Obliquely, Guess Who's Coming to Christmas Dinner and All I Want for Christmas (is Proof) (you guys really like my Christmas fics :-))

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

Yes, I love comments, and I love getting into dialogue with readers about their interpretation of the characters and canon! I try to answer everyone, if I ever forget to answer, I'm really sorry!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Um... None?

Of the ones on AO3 that is. I once wrote a Supernatural fic where Sam was a ghost and Dean had to exorcise him and it was heavily implied that Dean would commit suicide as soon as that was done, so that was pretty dark. And I wrote 2 Supernatural post Apocalypse fics that end well but the setting is very bleak.

But all my new stuff, especially all my Johnlock stuff, has happy endings.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Probably Bakers with Benefits. Sherlock gets everything he wants, including John, and they basically live happily ever after. But like I said, all my fics end happily.

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't yet, but that doesn't mean I won't, one of these days. I wrote a Bake Off Sherlock AU, but crossovers means having characters from both canons, and I re-cast both hosts and jurors, so it probably doesn't count.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, thankfully not. I've received a few odd comments here and there, but I never had the feeling that they were mailcious, just tone deaf.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, I do. Mostly of the vanilla kind, I'm not super kinky, and I'm not much for writing PWPs these days, but I like a good, spicy sex scene that shows you something about the characters and their dynamic. And sometimes it's just hawt. Which is also fine.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I heard a story once that someone stole one of my J2 fics and turned into a Het Degrassi fic, but I could never verify this claim because the fic got deleted. Other than that, not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, several, and it's a great honour.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, mostly with my wife @nuttersinc, we co-wrote an entire fic series and some other, smaller fics, and we once at a Boondock Saints RPG (I know. I know.) I haven't co-written with anyone in ages, and I'm not sure how good I would be at it these days, since I'm a pantser and don't have very much time, so I think I'd drive anyone with a regular writing schedule bananas. But I'm open to try.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

All time.... omg... Ok, so mirroring @discordantwords here, I adore Mulder and Scully still. They're the OG ship for me, they were the first pairing I read fanfic for. They'e such a good example of The Dynamic (repressed bisexual disguising as the "normal" one when they're just a more adapted sort of crazy and socially awkward genius crazy himbo the normal one has to save all the time). Scully especially owns my heart, I love her, and Gillian Anderson is, like. So. Hot.

But Sherlock and John... they're just... so GOOD. You can do anything with them. You can put them in any scenario, any time, any space, and they're just so magnetically drawn to each other, they complement each other so well and they're so bad and so good for each other... I love them. So much.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Oh, quite a few. The one where John is Sherlock's neighbour and they have this 'we're just friends' dynamic and everyone thinks they should just get married, including Rosie, who's a sassy teen in this fic. It's got a lot of potential but I don't think I'll ever finish it.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at dialogue and character dynamics. I think I'm also good at building character arcs, and I think I'm good at setting scenes and making oblivious idiots fall in love.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not the greates plot writer in the world. It takes me much more effort than writing a fic where, say, Sherlock and John have breakfast and talk, to pick a random example. I tend to lose the thread of the plot because I start writing the vibe before I have everything figured out, so I tend to get 'stranded' at some point. That's why my WIP folder looks the way it does.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't attempt it if I don't have a native speaker to look it over and tell me if it's correct. (if the other language isn't German, which is my native language).

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Roswell (the one from the early 2000s, not Roswell New Mexico. Yes, I'm a Fandom Old.)

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

None, honestly. If I wanted to write for a fandom or ship, I would.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

Oh my god I'm not sure I can answer that. I really like all of my fics, and I love most of them still. Some were such fun to write, some harder but the hardship made them more beloved.

I'll probably have to go for Bakers with Benefits, though, because I still like to re-visit that 'verse and I just LOVE these two.

That was fun! I'm tagging anyone who wants to do this, but especially @jrow @meetinginsamarra @lisbeth-kk and @thetimemoves

#my fic #fic writing #writing meme #fandom love

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ranvwoop · 7 months ago

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i need to expel the silly guys in my brain . but i forgot how to draw and writing is hard... much to think about

#vwoop.noises #I am thinking about cool war again. there is no tangible reason for this #Tge only rita summers stan in the whole world.. I think somethint could be done interesting abt her #I'm not sure whether shes bad bc of misogyny or bc none of the side characters were good #I hesitate to be mean bc Just a guy wrote that. Got no compensation for this. Etc etc. It's like conceptually advanced fanfic is my way of -#understanding this space #This being said.#It is very edgy for the sake of kt #And I want to play with your stock characters #Anyways Rita. Why is a child hanging out with the magic terrorists #They give off college dropout vibes but i think shes a little younger than like normal Knew them in highschool vibe. Hmm. Maybe #But regardless. She has to do highschooler chores . She has homework..#its just silly to me. Esp. bc shes just a goth little teenager #I think she's edgy on her own. Not even because the whole thing is edgy. She doesn't get toned down in my mind she believes she's #playing + winning 4D chess #In my beautiful mind palace she wasb rlly good friends w/ jessie b4 Average Tragic Backstory and is kind of like. sus abt the whole thing #very Yesterday was a terrible tragedy. You have classes today #As well as like. She's a bit younger and can cope a bit worse with everything. I think. As is her right as a goth teenager #she's just like. Angry.#Which is yknow. Why magic terrorism #but also w/ like jessie a) Her sibling is coping worse* and then b) Nobody says anything ever so as to not upset joey #*I have rewritten this whole thing in my mind Heart . He mitosis'd and then unmitosis'd as timeline course corrections and this is #quite difficult on a person.#but in the downtime.. shes just a bit silly....#magic terrorists and their princess of darkness (Also a magic terrorist)#I've also decided shes close w og just because I say so . They look similar and people r like Oh how sweet You are looking after yr little #sister. And she wants to do murder.#they both have dark hair; she dyes hers to look gother. and similar faces I Guess < The faceblinder but I'll decide when I draw them

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mythesque · 9 months ago

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alhaitham and dehya are FRIENDS they are friends THEY ARE FRIENDS they are besties they are F R I E N D S this Is the hill i Will die on

#none of u guys understand them like i do (lamenting)#desert gang you will always be fucking famous to meeeee #emotionally i am perpetually living in the sumeru archon quest #i have Lots Of Fucking Thoughts about it and them #anyway these are the hills i will die on: 1. alhaitham and dehya are best* fucking friends (*best here w an asterisk bc dehya has many #friends bc she is a very charming and likeable woman w myriad good qualities and alhaitham is not those things (i hate him) (affectionate)#so obviously dehya doesnt need some weirdo scholar to be her best friend but they are still very special friends bc they are v special to ME #(slight tangent but god i just have so much fucking brainrot abt the sumeru charas i have So Many Thoughts please you dont understand im dyi #dying #dont even get me started on nilou nilou is fucking wonderful and amazing and perfect this is another hill i will die on i am a #nilou defender forever and ever #aNYWAY im getting fucking sidetracked but im rambing word vomit nonsense in the tags of my tumblr dot com bc its the wee hours of morning an #and i have a problem and that problem is called i am very not normal about these stupid fucking characters and ANYWAY to finally continue my #list from like ten tags ago #the other hill i will die on is 2. signora deserved better LMAOOO #my other ~~problem~~ superpower is i can make anything abt the fatui harbingers /incurs smirks #alright ill stop my yapping lololol just throwing my thoughts out into the void like woe brainrot be upon ye #.txt

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starpros-sunshine · 3 months ago

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Funniest possible outcome imagine your therapist is Eichi Tenshouin. Seldom was I so amused. It would be two emotionally unavailable repressed bitches sitting on a couch together not talking about Anything until the hour is over and we're allowed to leave. Maybe start some conversations about something very unrelated.

#therapy would never work on me #i don't trust shrinks and I know thats the one thing you need for therapy to work #legit the one thing that immediately turns me off on you as a person is when you tell me you want to study psychology #no normal person wants that #ridiculous profession #i have three of them in the family and know a fourth one none of these people are normal #well maybe my grandfather he's okay #but i doubt the psychiatrist bit has anything to do with it #sitting around listening to people whine about their issues who wants that #you can be great and all but when you say you want to become a therapist some switch in my head flips #can't explain it i just do not take that field seriously #alien concept to me how anyone could ever enjoy doinv that

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 4 months ago

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(Don't You) Steal My Thunder

my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles

Tyler Owens x fem!reader 7k words

summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.

a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.

again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth

masterlist | twisters masterlist

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.

He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.

Tyler Owens is a problem.

And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.

Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.

And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.

It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.

Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.

Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.

But he's just such a fucking asshole.

You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.

Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.

Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.

Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.

You're just doing your job.

The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.

You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).

This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.

And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.

Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.

“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”

“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”

Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.

“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”

His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.

“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”

The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.

By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.

So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.

Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.

“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.

"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."

You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.

"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.

"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.

His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.

"I don't drink."

You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.

Not that you want to.

"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.

"I don't drink with you."

He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.

"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.

"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."

His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.

"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."

"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."

He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.

"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"

He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.

"I'm not a fan of you."

Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.

"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.

For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.

"I try."

With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.

"I'd still buy you a beer."

"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.

...

You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.

The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.

This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.

It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.

"Hey, weather girl!"

You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.

"What do you want, Owens?"

Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.

"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."

He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.

Not that you'd been about to.

Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.

You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.

You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.

You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.

It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.

Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.

You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.

"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.

"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."

You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.

"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)

"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.

The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.

"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."

He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.

"Cameras are off, I swear."

You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.

God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.

You're so, so stupid.

"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."

...

You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.

Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...

But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.

When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.

"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.

"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."

"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."

You pull your eyebrows even further up.

"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"

"Nope. Not familiar."

But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.

You just shake your head and turn away from him.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."

...

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.

The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.

Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.

That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.

Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.

It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.

You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.

But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...

"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.

"What?"

"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."

You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.

"You're shitting me."

Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.

"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.

His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.

It takes you a second too long to realise why.

"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"

"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.

"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."

"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."

The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.

"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."

You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.

"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"

"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."

He is.

He's right now. He's right usually.

Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.

Fuck him.

"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."

You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.

He puts the bill flat on the bar top.

But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.

"The price just went up", he says.

You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.

"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"

He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.

"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.

A kiss.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.

Especially with that forecast.

The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.

"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."

...

At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.

"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.

"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."

"But it collapsed this morning."

You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.

"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"

You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.

"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."

...

You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.

You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.

You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.

He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.

And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.

It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.

"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.

"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.

"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"

"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."

Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.

"Alright, so we wait."

You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.

"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."

You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.

It makes reading close to impossible.

Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.

That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.

You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.

You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.

Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.

Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.

But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.

You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?

So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.

For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.

"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.

"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."

Well, it's hard to break bad habits.

Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?

Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.

"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.

Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.

You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.

"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:

"So I'm Watson, yeah?"

Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.

It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.

You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.

"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.

Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.

And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.

"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."

"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.

Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.

You want more of Tyler Owens.

"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.

"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"

"I could never."

"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."

His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.

"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."

His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.

"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."

And then your lips are on his.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.

He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.

You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.

"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.

"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.

But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.

You chuckle against his lips.

"If you feel it, chase it, right?"

#twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens twisters #x reader

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moineauz · 6 months ago

Text

જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various ! pt two

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: boothill, aventurine

side comments: my first voice line fic was well received and for that I thank you all <3 so of course this is for all my boothill and aventurine lovers out there! (including myself for boothill...)

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, I genuinely loved writing boothill's, minor spoilers for both favourites: boothill word count: roughly 1000+

care to see the first part? includes dr. ratio, jing yuan, & blade!

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

WHO ARE THEY? I "Out here askin' question huh? Well if you're that curious... then you better listen close."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Met them on a bullet train in a neighbouring star system. Turns out we were chasing after the same fudge-heads. You could've seen them- a sly creature that's who they were, whipping out the most slick sniper I've ever seen. I'd reckon that was one of the most thrilling fights I've ever had: came out with dents all over my arms and a broken gun. Their bullets nearly punched a hole through my cheek... hah!"

GREETINGS? "They may be a load of dormant gunpowder, but they sure are sweet! Full of laughter and courtesy. But I'll let you in on a little secret... ( Name ) likes to walk in, pretty as always- and plant kisses all over my cheek before they even say a word."

PARTINGS? "Being a Galaxy Ranger means never staying in one place. ( Name ) is no Galaxy Ranger... I'd reckon it's better that way."

ABOUT US: SHOES IN THE HOUSE "I can't exactly 'take off my shoes' now can I? But ( Name ) likes to keep the house tidy and I best not anger them... like that one time- anyways, we came up with this whole fudging system just to keep the bottom of my damn boots clean! It's fudging ridiculous! *Chuckles* I can't help it, but ( Name ) is understanding. Even if I trudged through all the grime in the universe- they'd still wipe it all off."

ABOUT US: FAMILY "You see, ( Name ) has this big family. Siblings, cousins, extended cousins, aunts and uncles, you name it. We were on their home planet once, and I finally understood where ( Name's ) knack for puttin' a real good home together came from. Their family lives in the countryside where all you can see are open fields, lush hillsides, free-roaming animals and wildflowers. Consider it a quiet paradise. They even grow their own food for fudging sake! Everythin' made by hand and land. Darlin' nearly coaxed me into joining them for dinner once, but I knew better. Best not spoil the family get-together."

CHAT: HATS N' POSES "Personally, I like my hat and flare the way it damn is. How would fightin' be without it? But of course, your partner has to be a cheeky tease about it."

CHAT: WARMTH " I've seen it in the movies- those fudging 'romcoms'- and read it in books. When it gets cold... I'm no help. Can't do much except reach for a blanket and wrap them up. But even then, metal and skin don't fudging work."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Count me in on a dance sugar plum! Have to admit, darlin' has a fair share of good dance moves. Nothin' like a hard-earned victory being celebrated with a cool glass of whisky and a smooth dance."

ARGUMENTS: "Bitter things that's all they are. Leaves you knocked out cold. Reminds you of all the things you can't take back."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Following the hunt ain't an easy task. But someone has to punish the wretched. That's the thing about the hunt- you get cold, hard. Sugar follows another path that doesn't make any fudging sense to me. But that doesn't matter. None of that ever mattered, not to them, not to me or even the hunt. Call it selfish, but I'd like to one day settle down... Just like their family. Out where no one could find us."

WHO ARE THEY? II "They call me their 'sweet lover'. But really it should be me saying that. If anything I am the sweat of their brow- a nuisance at times. But they still love me. They still fudging love me."

EXTRA: IPC ENTRY "Normally, Galaxy Rangers travel alone. However, we have seen the wanted Galaxy ranger- Boothill- be accompanied by someone who appears to be a vagabond follower of Xipe. Despite the information we possess, the relationship between Boothill and his supposed 'partner' is very limited."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Fancy meeting you here- oh? A rumor you say? Rumours do have peculiar ways of reaching the ears..."

FIRST MEETINGS? "All business ventures possess their gains and losses. However, I did not expect my pockets- alongside others- to be picked on a night meant to celebrate the Strategic Investment Department. The person who did it played their cards exceptionally well. I applauded them and the subtlety of their skills."

GREETINGS? "Despite their rather cunning nature, ( Name ) is quite kind... shockingly so. I thought their smile was a chip they played for their own meticulous advantage. *Chuckles* I was wrong, there was simply nothing to understand behind that smile."

PARTINGS? "One transaction after another, the universe keeps spinning. Don't keep up, you fall behind. Simple. I don't have to worry about that around them, or at least, for a while, until another wager must be made. Until the peck on the cheek is over."

ABOUT US: LOCKET "( Name ) has a keen eye for trinkets and bought- well stole- a locket for the two of us to share. I keep it with me, a lucky charm if you may."

ABOUT US: NAPPING "Personally, I don't nap. But, ( Name ) is a terrible influence and says I should. I must admit, waking up to them in the afternoon is not a bad way to spend my time."

CHAT: THEVERY "( Name ) is a thief... a good one at that. Oh don't worry, they struck a deal with the IPC. Primarily on their terms because they have been such a nuisance to the IPC. It's rather amusing seeing the IPC chase their own tail. We've definitely shared laughs over it."

CHAT: CONFESSIONS "Who could possibly love something so broken? It's like keeping a clock that won't tick or a deck of cards missing a queen. Sometimes, I wish they didn't care so much. It would be... easier."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Of course, a good game of cards is a fun way to pass the time. *Chuckles* Though, ( Name ) is a terrible player. Not that I mind, I'll guess I'll play the role of 'loser' this time around- best you not tell them."

ARGUMENTS: "What else is there to say? Nothing. That part is the worst."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: HEART OF GOLD "( Name ) steals to give to the poor. It's their motto... I saw them once with a group of kids on a planet in a distant star system. They were giving back to the orphanage- the smiles on the children's faces when given toys, marbles to be exact, were so bright."

WHO ARE THEY? II "In all honesty, I'm not quite sure. However, what I do know is that luck finally worked in my favour... I'll hold onto that for as long as I can."

EXTRA: DR RATIO'S OPINION "The gambler- without hesitation- will bet 'all in' even if it means his own life hangs in the balance. However, amongst the chaos of his bets, there is one person who will drag him back to reality... ( Name ). Aventurine will never gamble nor forfeit the one person who truly understands him. Even I don't fully understand the gambler's crafty nature. I suppose a thief is the only one who can and more importantly, will."

masterlist.

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emmyrosee · 11 months ago

Text

You went to bed before Kiyoomi.

You never do that. Ever since you’ve moved in with him, your nights end with a massive pile of cuddling limbs and sweet words of sticky nothings that have you cocooned and ready for a peaceful night.

But tonight, he snapped at you. Something about being too “irate” over “something small.”

He missed dinner. And normally, that wouldn’t be a massive issue for you. But he was with asshole of a PR member who’s been trying to get with him for months, calling themselves his “work babe.” Who were you to think nothing funny wasn’t going down?

It's not a lack of trust from Kiyoomi that has you choked up. It's a lack of trust with them.

You know more than anyone when kindness turns to love, it's the same thing that happened between you both, and it kills you to think they could preform the same spell and potentially take your man from you.

You tell yourself that if they can take him, they can have him.

But the idea hurts none the less.

It hurts enough where you're curled up on your side of the bed, far from Kiyoomi's, where his smell lingers and the coldness on your body isn't offset by his warmth like it usually is. You whimper and bury your face in the meat of your pillow when you hear the front door open, and a soft call of your name follows. You didn't even know he left, to be frank, but you don't say anything as he stalks into the bedroom with another call of your name.

"Are you awake?"

"Am now," you murmur.

"Can we please talk about things?" He sounds desperate, like he knows this is killing you, weighing you down like a sac of bricks and keeping you from him.

"You talk," you say, nodding into your pillow. "I have nothing to say."

"Okay. I understand."

A muscular arm reaches over your frame to reach for your hand, and when you don't put up a fight to keep his hand away, he sighs shakily.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, linking his pinkie finger with yours. You screw your eyes shut and sniffle, and you hear him swallow thickly. “I was just so upset to know that you were right to worry-“

“What?”

“Wait- No!” He says quickly, panic in his voice. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant.” He’s never been good with his words. You let him continue, your heart sinking into your stomach all the same. He sighs shakily, “I meant that you were right about me being here. I should’ve been. We haven’t had dinner together in weeks, and I just… I got so caught up in new sponsorships and gigs that I wanted more, and I thought they had more to give.”

“They want you, Kiyoomi,” you mumble. “I see it. It’s the same way I bugged you when we first started dating, just to show how much I liked you. They’re doing that.”

“I know,” he sighs. Then, he pauses, squeezing your pinky, “I went to talk to them. Told them if they couldn't keep it professional and cut the shit, they can search for other clients. Because I don't want them making either of us uncomfortable anymore. And even if they did want me, I don't care.” He crawls over to you and bends slightly to have his head dangling in front of you, curls flipping upside down at the action. “Because I want you.”

You snort at the sight.

“So can we please cuddle, and you grab my teeth or sniff me or whatever feral thing you usually do?” He asks, leaning forward to kiss you on the nose. “Miss your stupid affections.”

“I miss giving them to you,” you say, moving a finger up slowly to try and pick his nose, just to make him squirm, a sign of a truce. He grunts and whips his head back, letting your laughter fill the room, rather than your tears. When you feel him sit back on his side of the bed, you take your time in flipping over, finally meeting his dark eyes again, filled with hope and adoration that has you falling in love with him all over again.

"You are irresistible," you say, reaching for his hand again.

"Don't care. I don't want anyone looking at me if it means you and I never fight again."

You laugh and gently kiss his hand, flicking your gaze up at him, "we'll go look at paper bags for you to wear this weekend."

He removes his hand from yours to gently cup your cheek, thumb stroking over the swells lovingly.

"It's a date."

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 4 months ago

Text

His Name | Soulmate!AU

~1.1k words

Jason Todd. That's the name that etched itself on your thigh the night of your sixteen birthday. Which is great, you have a soulmate. The issue is that you know– knew a Jason Todd. He happens to be six feet under the dirt in a graveyard you visit every Saturday. Which is not so great.

Being soul bound to a dead person gets you a lot of pitying glances from the people you know. You tell them there's more than one Jason Todd in the world. It makes your family shake their heads. You try not to dwell on the heartbreak on their faces when you tell them that, when they think you can't see it. They saw you and Jason together when he was alive. There won't be another Jason Todd in your life.

It's something you've slowly come to terms with, when no other Jason Todd finds their way to you, the idea of never seeing your name permanently marked on someone else's skin. The fact that you might never really have the person that's supposed to be yours.

That's why you might have reacted kind of poorly when Red Hood brings you up to a quiet rooftop, tugging off his leather jacket in front of you, dragging the material of his suit up and over his forearm to reveal your name on his skin.

You weren't even doing anything dangerous to get here, just at the wrong store at the wrong time, while some third-rate rouge went on and on about conquering the city. Standard Gotham experience.

What wasn't normal was Red Hood crashing through a window, brutal and efficient with every movement until each person with a gun was knocked out and beaten on the floor. Sure, you were aware he wasn't exactly a crime lord anymore, labeled a 'turned vigilante' by the press, but press also said he doesn't tend to leave crime alley. And you definitely weren't in crime alley. None of news stories of him saving people exactly calms the adrenaline coursing through you when he picks you up like it was the easiest thing in the world for him, hoisting you like you're made of glass over his shoulder and grappling you both to a nearby roof. You're alone before you even have time to process it.

You stumble back when he gently, so gently it makes your heart stutter, sets you on the ground. "Who do you think you are? You can't just grab people–" your biting words cut off as you register the black lettering across his skin. Your name. Your name is there. On Red Hoods arm.

You reach out to touch it before you can stop yourself, fingers trailing down his forearm and over each letter of your name. He lets you, not speaking words, only sighing in what sounds like relief. You force your gaze from the mark you could stare at forever to meet the glowing eyes of his mask. "You're- Jason Todd?"

He nods, every nerve of his body completely locked on you. It doesn't clear anything up. He can't be Jason Todd, at least, not the one you buried.

You make a face and step back, crossing your arms, "Yeah right."

He seems to blank, arm still held out, showing your name permanently engraved on his skin. "Yeah, right?" He echos, deep and robotic through the modulator of his mask.

You set your jaw and nod.

He tilts his head, lifting his arm higher to make you see the mark. To see your name. "Do you think I faked it?"

That makes you falter. Why would he? There's nothing to gain by pretending to be your soulmate. "Well, no. But you still could have the wrong person."

He exhales a laugh, breathes out your name with more fondess than you've ever heard. "Always so stubborn."

Your frown. Sure, maybe you could be stubborn but he doesn't know that.

He says your name again, reaching up to tug his hood back, reaching for his mask.

It makes you freeze, eyes going wide in shock when you make out his face. Jason. Your Jason. "How–" You start, but can't quite manage to finish, eyes darting over the face that's so familiar, only older, more tired, more scarred. But his eyes are still the same. Intent and focused and bright when everything around him is dark.

"It's a long story." He says softly, before starting to ramble, nervous to upset you, to lose any chance of knowing you again. Any unease you felt around Red Hood fades as you recognize the boy you grew up with in him. "Maybe I could tell you? Over coffee? I have safe house nearby. But, only if you're comfortable. Or we could meet during the day, if thats better?"

His voice sounds more familiar without mask, and you study him, almost accusing. "You didn't have to kidnap me to tell me you're alive. Or that you're my soulmate, you know."

He stumbles over your words, taking half a step closer to you. "I didn't! I mean, I wasn't trying to. I swear– I just couldn't take all of this off down there." He gestures to the mask, a little frantic to gain your approval.

It brings a small smile to your face, and he stops still at the sight of it, breath catching in his throat as you speak, "I'm glad you're here, Jason."

"I'm glad you're safe." He exhales out, eyes softening and tension draining from his muscles in relief.

You can't quite fight the urge to reach out for him, so you do, taking his hand and gently flipping it over so you can read your name again. You have questions, absolutely. Gripes. Proably a lecture that he should have come seen you sooner. But you settle on how right this feels in your bones, how your soul feels like its missing piece slotted into place. "Do you have creamer?"

"Creamer?" He asks, voice airy and memorized by the feel of your skin against his hand.

"For the coffee?" You prompt, smiling a little wider at his dazed expression, his eyes following your hand, like he can't believe you haven't run screaming for the hills.

"Yeah. Course. Anything you want." And when he focuses back in your face, you know in the very essence of what you are that he means it.

"Coffees a good start." You say, a little fond as you pull away your hand away, and he reluctantly lets your fingers slide from his.

"Coffee it is." And it is a good start. To know your other half again, to follow the warm, soothing feeling in your soul when you touch him, you'll try as many starts as it takes.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #soulmate au #soulmate!jason todd

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furiousgoldfish · 1 year ago

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Which ones of these arbitrary trauma-induced rules do you follow?

No spending money, ever. what if you need it later and your life depends on it.

Assume that all strangers are 3 seconds close to becoming hostile. fawn to keep them friendly.

No delegating tasks. no telling other people to do things you could potentially do yourself. what if they mess up.

Assume that everyone will consider you a burden if you do 1 single mistake that inconveniences them. do all that is possible to not make that mistake.

Do not admit when things are going wrong. wait until theres no other option but to ask for help, and even then consider not doing that.

Always act like you're okay. not doing so might make you seem 'not normal' and 'accused of being crazy and unstable'.

Do anything for friends, even if it sounds weird, dodgy, illegal. you want to prove that you're fun and easy going and helpful and useful and extremely cool with anything.

Never let it show if you're suspicious of someone. never say out loud that you think their intentions are bad. that might set them off.

If hurt, hide and isolate. Do not let anyone see you hurt.

Do not ask help for problems you feel are your own responsibility to solve. Even if you don't see yourself solving them successfully. If you can't do it, assume nobody can help you.

Help others to try and build positive relationships. Don't accept help so you don't end up relying on them for anything.

Do not start things that involve help or participation from other people. People are not reliable.

Assume that institutions, government, police, social services, and any kind of groups of people are all considering you a nuisance, and would attack you on sight, in every single situation. Never rely on them or assume they would do anything else.

No arguing, confronting, or standing up for yourself unless the situation is absolutely unsurvivable otherwise. Lay low until doing otherwise is seriously damaging your mental health and ability to live.

Give up on hopeful social encounters before they disappoint you. If you have to interact with people, assume the worst is about to happen.

No allowing yourself to idealize, or dream of positive future with people. It's a trap and your expectations need to be either extremely realistic or low.

Assume that fancy and expensive things don't exist for you. Despise them and get away from them.

No comparing yourself and your life to how other people live. It causes depression and despair. Other people's lives and standards of living are none of your business.

Do not showcase any skill or brag about any achievement. Jealous people can destroy you for satisfaction.

Assume people think the worst of you and don't consider changing their mind. Just try to keep out of their way.

Do not display anger. You don't want to be called insane or get arrested. You don't know what people could potentially blame you for if you're openly angry. But other angry people are dangerous and you need to get away from them.

If you follow more than half of these, you have a trauma-induced problem. These are not normal or healthy. These are not developed in a healthy environment. These are extremely self-protective, isolating, ruled by terror of the world and the people living in it. If you follow these, something bad has been done to you.

#trauma rules #living in trauma #consequences of trauma #social anxiety #aftermath of abuse #aftermath of trauma #trauma induced rules #long term abuse #consequences of abuse #extreme self-reliance

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foone · 2 months ago

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Bad idea for a story:

The kingdom is in flames, and the King lies dead in a commoner's grave. The people have risen up in a glorious socialist revolution, and they're in power now, the monarchy that ruled this country for centuries is gone... Or are they?

The king had many sons and daughters. The daughters they're not worried about, the kingdom never had a queen, the rules were always sexist. But the princes? Any of them could rally an army of loyalists and try to take back the kingdom.

The more hardline elements of the revolution says that the princes must die. Anyone who has a "legitimate" claim on the throne is a threat.

But the more flexible elements of the revolutionary council have an alternative idea, one that'll prevent any more bloodshed.

We simply feminize the princes! If all the heirs of the King are princesses, none of them can make a claim on the throne!

Sure it's a little unorthodox but it'll mean fewer bodies buried under the foundations of our new more-equal society.

We don't want to set the tone for our enduring society by eliminating some people because they were inconvenient. That's the kind of thing that gets normalized and then you've got genocides and purges as regular things.

Instead we're just building our society on forced-feminization which I'm sure won't affect anything at all.

(I wrote this because I thought it was funny, but I do acknowledge that there's a certain subset of Tumblr users who would think "the Soviet Union but they forcefem you" is the hottest idea ever)

#Bad ideas #i don't know what to tag this

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werecreature-addicted · 1 year ago

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this is really specific but imagine being a Farmer and taking in a Minotaur who was abused and used for fighting. And like he’s bred to be a absolute f**cking tank. im talking like 8’6, scars and muscles, massive strong horns, callused hands etc. Because of the abuse and the fighting he was forced Into all his life he hates all humans, but for some reason he doesn’t want to hurt you. And as the months slowly rolls by he starts to warm up to you to the point he lets you touch him…Just for a little bit though

He is always surprised by your kindness. He's known many humans, and none have ever smiled at him like you do. Or ask him how his day has been. What surprises him most is how you always look him in the eyes when you talk to him. You never bark orders while absentmindedly checking your phone or blatantly examining his muscles while asking him to do labor. You always look him in the eye, or at least you look up. Sometimes it's hard to meet his gaze, especially if the sun is in your eyes and you can't quite make out where his head is. But that little act of respect almost always surprises him. It's almost like you see him as an equal.

You always say please and thank you. Even when he's just doing his job, work is the only reason he's here, yet you act like he's done you a huge favor when he does something as simple as refilling the watering cans. He almost never responds either, He just grunts dismissively. That never seems to bother you. No, nothing as shallow as a bad attitude would darken your sunshine.

It's funny. He's never really "liked" something about a human before. He's respected some of them. He's admired the bravery of the ones stupid enough to step in the ring with him. But he actually likes your positive attitude, and how nice you are... and your smile.

He likes the sunshine. On sunny days when there isn't much work left, you'll often find him lying in the middle of the field, enjoying the sun. He doesn't mind talking about his scars if you want to ask. Though, to be honest. He doesn't remember the details of most of them. It's all the same story anyway. A fight. A lance to the side before the fight to make him mad. A beating after he lost a fight. The individual scars all seem to blur together.

You show him a few of your scars, and you seem to remember the stories better. There's a web of scaring over the back of your hand he's noticed before but never asked about. You tell him you were stringing up a barbed wire fence, and the wire cut your knuckles. It bothers him for some reason. You're so sweet, never having been in a fight, and still you have scars. He doesn't like the idea of you being hurt. He tells you if the fence ever needs repairs he'll do it for you.

You're always careful not to touch him. He flinches if you so much as move too fast, and well... he is an animal, a reactive one at that. You're right to be cautious around him. It doesn't hurt his feelings. He respects you for the space you give him. He does have a sneaking suspicion that you want to touch him.

When he tells you about his past, you'll reach for his hand before pulling away and telling him how sorry you are to hear that. Or when he hands you something, you'll brush your fingers against his, even when you're normally so cautious to not let that happen.

Your eyes land on a piece of hay striking out of his messy hair right by his ear. You point it out but, he can't seem to find it himself. He always just barely misses it. Eventually, he crouches and bows his head low enough for you to reach the top of his head.

"Can you uhm, will you get it for me?" he asks shyly. You nod and easily pull out the hay. you pull away but he stops you.

"Wait- just check for anything else stuck in my hair, please?" he asks. you comply, running your fingers through his hair and checking for any more hay.

He still doesn't like being touched, but it's nice to know that your hands are soft and your touch is as kind and gentle as everything else about you. He wonders if touch could feel good and if you'd be willing to show him.

#monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #monster imagine #minotaur boyfriend #minotaur x reader #minotaur smut

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chaptersleftunwritten · 3 months ago

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Red Hot

Based on the song ‘Breaking the Girl’ by Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Also, requested by the sweetest nonnie!

Blurb: Eddie has never had a constant in his life. Everyone leaves or he does before he can get hurt. After working up enough courage to ask you on a date, he can’t help the itch to run from you when he sees you talking with another guy.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Light angst with a fluffy ending, miscommunication, reader referred to gal/girl, Eddie’s puppy eyes being teary. Jealousy. I think that’s all….

divider by @cafekitsune

It all started in August.

The longing stares, stolen touches, blushing cheeks, sweating palms. Eddie had fallen for you. Hard. And it was incomprehensible to him.

Sure, you guys had been partnered on a few class projects, muttering sweet ‘Hello’s’ to one another as you passed in the hallways. But nothing overly serious. Nothing that could lead to this flutter in his inked chest.

The feeling startled him— like falling asleep, only to dream that you’re falling from a building and then you jolt awake.

You frightened him. You with your shining smile that could light up the whole of New York City, or your bigger than life bubbly personality and your Einstein like brain. You frightened Eddie Munson— and he liked it. Loved it, even.

When he looked at you, he was sure. Surer than he has ever been about anything in his entire life. He wanted you— he needed you in his future. You made him feel… wanted. Normal? Less like than outcast and more like a friend.

And so he asked you out— but not without extreme difficulty. It took him three whole days to pluck up enough cowardly courage to slip a hand written note into your locker, signed from him with a cheesy love heart stamped next to your name on the back.

Eddie was consumed by immense panic after he had posted the note to you. He paced the halls and even contemplated breaking and entering into your locker just to steal the note back. It wasn’t regret, but more like guilt.

He wasn’t brave enough to ask you face to face. He knew he wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence in front of you, nevermind ask you out to a diner for milkshakes.

He also couldn’t handle your rejection. It would sour him… it would break his heart.

And so when he seen you bounding over to him and the other guys at lunch like a cheerful bunny rabbit he nearly sunk and hid beneath the table. Terrified of what you might say— of what you might think of him…

Would you take him as he was?

His insides were twisting and turning, his feelings for you burning…

“Hey, Eddie…” you stop a few paces away from his perched frame, your cheeks flushed and your fingers fumbling with your pocket, “Could I please borrow you for a moment?” Your voice is sweet enough to make Eddie’s own cheeks pink and your eyes examine the table, almost as if you are asking for the men’s permission to pinch their friend.

They spare you some friendly and amused smiles, but that is all. They know better than to meddle with the things Eddie cares about.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He clears his throat in the form of a light cough, his palms slapping against the top of the table as he lunges from his seat and onto his feet to meet you. His movements are so fast that it takes you a moment to register that he is standing inches in front of you.

“Lead the way.” He purrs softly and that’s it for you. Your brain is none responsive. Eddie was great at the art of pretending. He was a pretender— which meant that he was the master at faking his confidence. As he watched your jaw fall slack at his toothy dimpled grin it only spurred him on further. He was adoring the effect he was having on you.

Leading Eddie into the quiet of the corridor you stop against a wall, smiling angelically up at the metal head, “I got your note.” Part of you was hesitant to even approach Eddie, in doubt that you had been brutally pranked by someone but the softness in his eyes and the relaxation of his tense shoulders put your mind at ease.

“What note?” Eddie perks a brow, a massive stretched smile on his lips and you swat at him playfully, pulling the loose piece of crumpled paper from your pocket and waving it in front of his nose, “Okay, okay.” He throws his hands up in surrender before tucking them beneath his armpits; trying to contain his nerves.

“If by chance, I did slip that into your locker… what might you reply to it? Y’know— if it were from me.”

There’s a moment of pause and you purse your lips in false thought, holding the note flat against your chest, “I think I would say yes— but only if it were you.” You sigh, frowning mockingly, “But I guess we shall never know, huh?”

You sway away from the wall, overly slumping your shoulders as you take agonisingly slow steps back toward the cafeteria.

Eddie can’t contain his thrill. You just agreed to go on a date with him. You! You agreed!

He punches the air whilst your back is turned to him before he is prancing behind you like a ballet dancer, “It was me! Did I mention that? Swear I did.” He grabs the note from you and you giggle as he examines his own handwriting, “Yep! See, right here. That’s my name.” His index finger taps on the inked page and you hum in recognition and amusement. Peeking up at him through the thickness of your eyelashes you offer him a sly smile and he is quick to return one to you.

“Okay, well… how about Friday then? You, me and some delicious milkshakes?” You chirp like a song bird, clasping your hands behind your back and rocking on your heels.

Eddie’s heart thunders in his chest and his cheeks ache from the unremovable smile on his face.

“Sounds like a date, Princess.”

Eddie couldn’t keep his Bambi eyes closed at night, all he could think about was you. You and the minutes counting down to your date together. He had to fight the urge every single second of every day to smother you with attention in the corridors at school. He wanted to allow you space but fuck— was it challenging.

He would leave rouge flowers and their stems poking out from the vents in your locker— never specifying if it were him or not. But you knew. You knew it was Eddie leaving you little trinkets. Like a trail of rose petals leading right to him.

In between classes he would stare at you from a distance, right through the crowd and you would feel his blazing gaze on the back of your head which, without fail, caused your flesh to flush brightly with colour.

He couldn’t help it. You were stunning and the literal gal of his wildest dreams. His pretty little flower. He just wanted you to be his so badly that he was terrified of suffocating you with his presence.

He hadn’t spoke to you from that day in the hallway; he thought it safer that way. Wait until the date, and then let you decide how you feel about him.

The thought made him antsy and unable to keep still. If he had one wish right now, it would be to read your mind. Just so he knew— so he really knew. So he could please you and make you happy. No matter the cost. No matter the effort. He would do it.

He already felt so strongly about you; and that’s why it bruised his heart so brutally to see you giggling and talking with another bloke. Eddie had never experienced jealousy on this level before, but it felt Hellish. It felt intentional and spiteful and he couldn’t control the envious tears pricking at his waterline as he longed for you from afar.

He wouldn’t let you hurt him. He wouldn’t let you get close enough… not anymore. No matter how badly he wanted a life with you. He decided not to take the risk.

And little by little, the trinkets stopped and you only received one final note that Friday morning.

A cancellation letter.

‘Can’t make it tonight, see you around.’ - Eddie

The excitement you had for the night ahead fizzled out and died— sending your stomach sinking like a plane shot from the sky.

What hurt you most was that there wasn’t even an apology. You could understand being too bashful to ask you out face to face— but to cancel on you through a lousy note? You couldn’t understand that.

You thought you meant more than that to Eddie, you thought that he thought more highly of you. Felt more for you. But you must’ve been mistaken since you had to walk through his blizzard of a mood change.

He wouldn’t look at you anymore. His once warm gaze turned icy and much less frequent than before. You couldn’t think of what you had done to deserve this from him. His cold shoulder and snippy responses.

It was hurting you more than you could have imagined. You liked Eddie— you really liked Eddie, and to have him be so brutish toward you was dizzying. Upsetting. Penetrative; like a knife to your heart. Twisting and turning relentlessly. Unwaveringly. Suffocatingly.

But you weren’t one to back down from confrontation; you were going to get the truth out of him if it were the last thing you do.

It’s Monday afternoon and after working yourself up all goddamn morning you decide enough is enough. You can’t take it anymore. You have to know why.

“Hey, Munson!” Eddie’s brain hasn’t time to compute what is happening before you are stomping over to him, your arms flexed by your sides as your fists are balled tightly by your waist.

“What do you want?” His deep voice is rumbly and clipped as it leaves his throat and you scoff at his nonchalant tone.

“I want you to explain this.” The crumpled piece of paper is held slotted between your middle and index finger as you wave it like a white flag in front of his face, “I never pegged you as a coward, Eddie— really, I just don’t understand.”

Eddie’s ‘give no fucks’ attitude falters at your distress and he has to shove his hands into his pockets to keep his composure. He knows he can’t sweep you up into his arms and coddle you the way he wants— so he settles for this. Being a total dickwad toward the one girl that actually makes him feel something.

“What’s not to understand? I saw you with another guy and I took the fucking hint. Plain and simple. You don’t owe me an explanation and I don’t see why I owe you one, Princess.” He shrugs his shoulders in discomfort but to you it seems like utter ignorance.

His nickname for you tastes like battery acid on your tongue. A pill that’s hard to swallow. You don’t like this facade he’s putting up— not one bit.

“What are talking about? What guy?” Genuine confusion wraps itself snuggly around your psyche and it’s now Eddie’s turn to scoff in annoyance.

“Oh, please! Don’t act dumb, Sweetheart. I saw you and Eric together with my own two eyes. Giggling all cutely— showing him extreme interest. It was clear as day that you were into him.”

“Into him?” You echo, “I was simply being polite, Eddie. That’s the type of person that I am! Maybe you should try it sometime instead acting like an asshole!” The words spit from your lips like bullets and Eddie begins spiralling.

Had he got it all wrong? He knew you were a polite and gentle girl. It’s one of the many reasons as to why he liked you. He couldn’t help his mind from going to a dark place after seeing you together with Eric. It came to him as though it were second nature.

He had to run before he got gunned down.

“Wait-“ Eddie calls after you, his voice strangled as he leaves his post to jog behind you, his belt chain jingling with his movements, “Please!” His hand clasps your shoulder softly and you spin around to face him. Your face is flushed with anger and Eddie is taken aback from the look in your eyes.

He had seen it so many time before from his peers.

Distaste. Annoyance. Fear. Fury.

All so familiar to him; but they look so foreign in your kind eyes.

“What?” Meeting him with the same blunt force he displayed earlier has his heart clenching; bracing for impact.

“I… I misunderstood.”

“You think?”

“I just… I’m not good at this.” He gestures between the pair of you. A shaky breath leaves Eddie’s lungs and you soften at the sight of him becoming dishevelled in front of you, “I don’t know how to love. And… and I guess when I saw you with Eric it was my own insecurity eating me alive. I wasn’t mad at you, I was mad at myself.”

The metal head leans against a near by wall for leverage and you move in closer to him, magnetised.

“I saw the life you could have. The life you deserve… and it wasn’t with me.” His bottom lip quivers and you can see the struggle roaring in his eyes as he tries to contain his tears, “I’m afraid. I’m afraid of getting hurt and being the one that hurts you.”

The answer was clear as day to you. You knew how to love unconditionally. You could be the one to teach him. To guide him. Eddie needed reassurance; that’s all he needed and you could offer him that. You could work at this with him.

“You don’t get to decide who gets hurt in this world,” With shaking hands you reach out to touch Eddie’s face, your thumb stroking his cheek to catch a stray tear, “I can show you how to love. And how to be loved.”

You’re smiling like an idiot, your heart pumping hopefulness throughout your entire being.

“Yeah?” Eddie sniffles gently and you nod your head vigorously.

“Yeah.”

Slender ringed fingers curl around your wrist and Eddie holds on tightly to the warmth of your skin against his.

“You feelin’ reckless, Sweet girl?” The teary eyed man is smirking now and you fear for the future of your heart; it might just combust into flames at the sight of him.

“Well, that depends what you mean…” you perk a brow, intrigued and Eddie laughs.

“Let’s ditch next period and grab those milkshakes I promised you.”

And without any further hesitation, you allow Eddie to take your hand into his and lead you out of school grounds and toward the rest of your lives together.

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck

#request fulfilled #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #anon request #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #fandom #chaptersleftunwritten #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction

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