#on god i feel like i actually shrink when i do them

[takamor]

“what are you doing here?”

in all honesty, he should’ve expected the brittle ring to your voice.

he really should’ve expected how you fold your arms around your chest as if protecting your heart from him. (he’s been so rough with it in the past, after all.)

and especially how you squint your eyes at him like you can’t believe he’s really standing in your doorway at one in the morning, rain pounding against his back and a lopsided grin on his face. (he doesn’t blame you—never has. he can’t even believe where he’s at, but he’s not exactly surprised. you’ve always felt like home to him.)

it’s not a surprise how you stand squarely between him and your entryway, but there’s a part of him that breaks anyway. (he isn’t welcome here, he knows it, but it’s one in the morning on a rainy tuesday night and he just wants to go home.)

“c’mon, darlin’, you know why i’m here.” he tries his hardest to sound lighthearted, but there’s a wobble to his tone, and he hopes he didn’t imagine you softening just the slightest bit.

but just as quickly as he sees a flash of tenderness across your face, you’re back to glowering at him the best you can and standing your ground. “no, i don’t, atsumu, considering you broke up with me two weeks ago.”

“is it cheesy of me to say i’ve regretted it every day since?”

“incredibly, but also incredibly like you.”

“even if it’s true?”

“especially if it’s true.”

it’s easy to fall into familiar banter with him, a reflex almost. atsumu has always been easy to bicker with. there’s something bittersweet about how sharp both of your tongues are and how thick your skin is. it was the foundation of your relationship. evidently, a weak one. and whether it’s the alcohol pumping through his veins or the feeling of belonging taking root in his guts, he doesn’t realize he’s reached out his hand towards you until he feels his knuckles brush against your cheek. you indulge it just for a moment, long enough to remember how good it felt to wake up to him every morning, before grabbing his wrist.

“what are you doing here, atsumu?” you repeat, firmer this time, his pulse thumping against your palm.

he feels guilty, but not enough to leave. just enough to look slightly sheepish and gently wriggle his wrist out of your grasp so he can scratch the back of his head. a nervous habit of his, and you can appreciate that he has the sense to be somewhat ashamed. “jus’ wanted to see ya’ is all…”

you hold your chin up and he shrinks away from your glare. “then you should’ve thought twice about breaking up with me, huh?”

“look—” he tries to get out the rest of his sentence, he really does, but it’s freezing cold and the rain is starting to sting his skin and his tongue feels a lot heavier than it should and his vision is starting to blur and, by god, he thinks he might actually be crying. how much more of a fucking cliché can he be? pathetically standing on his ex’s porch in the pouring rain, sake and regret causing his body to feel stuffed full of cotton and stones, hands shaking from nerves and cold air. atsumu miya is truly the epitome of pride and self-destruction at its finest. “i…” he runs his hand down his face in hopes that it’ll sober him up a little, and his previous suspicions are confirmed when he can feel the telltale warmth of tears. “i was an idiot and bein’ selfish and i shouldn’t a’ said what i said—”

“you called me insecure when i told you i wanted to spend more time with you.”

“i know and i’m sorry and if you—”

“you said if i wanted to date an all star athlete then i shouldn’t try to drag them down.”

“i know and—”

“you called me childish. you. of all fucking people, atsumu.”

he isn’t sure when you guys started yelling or when your words started to feel more like fists, but his hands are shaking and he thinks his heart is breaking. it feels like it is. his stomach is churning and he’s certain it isn’t from the alcohol; his lungs ache with every breath he takes; his throat is raw and closing more with each minute that passes by; his mind is racing trying to keep up with his mouth, but it can’t seem to catch up. someone must’ve hit his power button, because he feels as if he’s shut down. he’s frozen. unsure whether you’re going to keep fighting him or just slam the door on him. he hopes it’s the former, so he has more time to memorize the curves of your face.

“what gives you the right, atsumu miya?” you continue on, indignation staining your words. “what gives you the fucking right to break up with me after i told you i was worried about you caring more about volleyball than me, and then show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night drunk off of your ass? i tried calling you, texting you, and you never fucking answered. you even blocked me on your socials before the night ended. even osamu, your fucking twin brother, reached out to me because he knew how much you meant to me. and right when i’m starting to warm up to the idea of moving on, you show up. you fucking show up...”

he reaches out to wipe the tears from your cheeks, but you flinch away this time, scared of crumbling under his touch. the ice in your chest has melted enough to reveal the clumsy stitching you’ve done to seal angry cuts he left. you don’t want to show the ugly deeper ones you’re still trying to figure out how to bandage. the wounded look in his deep eyes has you longing to feel warm again.

“please,” he whispers. “jus’ let me inside and you can yell at me. you can even kick me out after, i promise. but my feet are numb and i dunno how much longer i can stand out here without catchin’ a cold. and i think your neighbors are startin’ to hate ya’.”

it’s one in the morning on a rainy tuesday night, and a drunk atsumu miya is standing on your doorstep, and it’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. something cautiously optimistic twinkles in his eyes as you scoot over to let him in your apartment, and he folds in on himself as he squeezes past you, and it’s so unlike him, a seedling of hope starts to bloom in your rib cage. atsumu has never tried to make himself appear smaller for anyone’s sake, but he’s trying his best to shrink his body for you. with the deliberation of someone handling glass, he slips feet out of his shoes and makes his way over to your couch, droplets of rain rolling off of his clothes and landing soundlessly on your carpet. anxiety radiates off of him in heavy waves. he fiddles with the strings of his jacket, dark eyes watching your every movement, the corners of his mouth twitching, muscular legs bouncing with anticipation as if he’s ready to bolt at any given moment.

it’s the most nervous you’ve ever seen him, and a part of you feels righteous.

“what are you doing here, miya?” it’s the third time you’ve asked him the question and the softest way you’ve done it. and though he cracks at the formality of his last name, he can appreciate how delicate you sound while whispering it.

finally, somehow, he finds his voice buried under the lump in his throat. “i’m an idiot. i ruined the best thing to ever happen to me because i got scared, and i wanna make it right.” he bites his lip. copper explodes on his tongue and it shouldn’t taste so good mixed with sake, but he finds himself indulging nonetheless. when you don’t speak, he continues on in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. “‘m sorry. i dunno how much my words are worth to you now, and i don’t blame you if you hate me. i kinda hate me right now…” He humorlessly chuckles and glares at the floor as if it were the source of all of this. “but i miss you. none of this shit means anythin’ to me if i don’t have you, darlin’.”

“don’t say that.”

his eyes snap up back to you and he’s somewhat relieved to see you earnest. “hm?”

“don’t say that volleyball doesn’t mean anything to you,” you mutter, and it’s your turn to glare at the carpet. “i won’t allow you to. with or without me, volleyball is your…thing. it’s what you wake up in the morning for. it’s what you go to bed thinking of. it’s what your mind wanders to. and, yeah, it’s annoying sometimes, but that’s a part of you. don’t let me take that away from you.”

atsumu rubs at his face and inspects his hands, all of the calluses and evidence of his days on the court. a part of him still wants to cut out volleyball, hurt himself as much as he’s hurt you, because he knows you’re right—him without volleyball is like him without food to eat, water to drink, oxygen to inhale. it’s been the one constant in his life, the thing that has brought him back from the ledge again and again. he thought it’d be the only thing he’d care about, until he met you. could one take priority over another? would you make him choose? or was he just scared of you doing it and cut his losses before he could find out? in the end, you both know what he’d choose, and maybe he was trying to save you from that. he never thought of himself as so chivalrous. then again, he didn’t think much of himself outside of volleyball. but he’s been through this story so many fucking times he knows the ending: you’ll grow to resent him because volleyball takes up more of his heart than you do and he’ll end up with another hole in it. it already started when you mentioned you hadn’t seen him much these past few weeks during practice season. and although at the time you brought it up off-handedly, he knows the topic won’t be so easy the fifth time it’s brought up.

and so, he did what he does best: made the kill shot and ended things before they got too hard.

but there’s that annoyingly idyllic part of him that’s hoping, praying, this ending is different and maybe his love for volleyball is a part of the reason you love him so much. seeing him so passionate, pushing himself on the court, looking in your direction after every shot he takes, silently dedicating every serve he makes to you. maybe you see all of that and adore him for it. he hopes you do.

“how drunk are you?” you ask suddenly.

he perks at the sound of your voice. “drunk enough to say what’s on my mind. sober enough to know how stupid i am for tryin’ to pull this off.”

you chuckle despite yourself, and that blossom of hope in his ribcage grows a little more. “well, we’ll talk about this in the morning, okay? i’m tired and not thinking clearly, and you obviously aren’t either. here—” careful to avoid his touch, you grab at the blanket strew over the head of the couch. he still gets a noseful of your shampoo, however, and that’s enough to make his chest ache and his arms long to hold you. “crash on the couch, ‘kay? you know where the bathroom is if you need to vomit.”

“i can hold my liquor,” he begrudgingly mutters as he wrestles to take his jacket off and cocoon himself with the blanket. it smells like you as well, and he can almost pretend it’s you wrapped around his body instead of the woven acrylic. he shivers, despite the warmth provided by the blanket.

you look down at him fondly. it doesn’t help his ribcage one bit. “i know.”

once he’s settled in, you bid him goodnight and begin to tread towards your room, feet heavy and heart feeling even heavier.

“does that mean there’s hope?” he sounds so small, his words rose-colored and dripping with caged optimism, that you can’t help but soften some of your hard edges for him. you glance over your shoulder and are surprised by the shining dark eyes peeking back over to you.

“what?” you dumbly reply, too emotionally drained to contemplate much more.

“you said we’ll talk about this in the mornin’,” he slowly explains, as if his words weigh more than he expected. “does that mean there’s hope?”

“i—” you bite your tongue. atsumu is looking at you as if you have his heart in the palm of your hand, and you have a slight suspension he’s right. hesitantly, as to not break him any more than he already has, you meet his eyes, and there’s that fragile hope staring right back at you. “i don’t know, ‘tsumu. but i’m willing to hear you out.”

he smiles, because you’ve finally used the name he fell in love with hearing roll off your tongue. even if there’s no way to fix what he’s broken, he can at least know that there’s a part of you that’s still fond of him, even if it’s buried under the bitter animosity of heartbreak. that, he thinks, will be good enough for now.

[so-very-small]

i love to get high and think abt g/t but noone i know gives a shit so im sharing here. im thinking abt g/t :]

G/T STONERS RISE UP ‼️

thinking of g/t while high is my favorite thing ever. we are now kindred spirits and my next cart hit will be in ur honor 🫡

[syrenki]

post depressive episode clarity like what the fuck do you mean they'll never disappear, just fade.

[anaalnathrakhs]

"i thought you said you'd make an effort" MOTHERFUCKER THIS IS ONLY COMPLAINT #1 OUT OF A VERY LONG LIST JUST BE GRATEFUL I CAN WAIT UNTIL THE GUESTS ARE GONE TO SNAP

[txjis]

thinking abt toji with a crybaby gf a little extra rn

no one can tell me this man isn’t into the ‘soft’ type. i’m not even trying to project. but i full heartedly believe that he likes the soft girls that have some attitude to them.

cw: MDNI , fem!reader , toji kinda toxic n icky , mention of periods , fake crying , that’s abt it i think.

imagine he’s just spoiled you absolutely rotten, you can count on one hand the amount of times he’s told you “no.” and actually stood his ground on the statement. how could he not give into you? your his sweet little baby, he can’t stand the pout on your face.

but god, when you break out the waterworks?? you could probably have this man doing whatever the fuck you wanted. you knew this too, and you didn’t want him to get used to seeing you cry and whine. so you saved this little trick you’ve learned until there’s something you reaallyyy want, and IF he says no. you know it won’t stay a no.

“c’mon baby, you know i’m saying no because it’s gonna make your stomach hurt.” toji looked over at you, bottom lip jutting out after he just rudely told you no to going back through the drive through to get another ice cream cone after you just practically inhaled yours. and sure, maybe it was immature to cry over ice cream, but you could tell your period was close, you needed that fucking ice cream before you ripped his head off.

“so mean toji.” your lip wobbling a bit while you willed your eyes to start misting over with water. you slammed both of your legs against the passenger side door, shrinking away from him while you sniffled and crossed your arms over your chest. it was dramatic, and you were fully aware of that. but who cares you were his special girl, no one else mattered.

“don’t be like that-“ toji reached out towards your legs, originally trying to place a strong hand on your thigh. he had to lean over the center console the way you tucked yourself against the door so tight. but just before he made contact, you slapped his hand away, turning to glare at him with crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks. “..fuckin’ fine. same flavor?”

you nod as he pulls around to go back through the drive through, he grunts and hands you the cone full of the sweet treat you had just cried over. you take it from him, continuing the pouty act for a few moments until you genuinely start to miss his touch. riding in his car doesn’t feel normal when his hand isn’t in your lap.

toji smirks to himself watching your legs shift closer to him once again through the peaks he was stealing of you occasionally. he places his hand on your thigh and gives it a small squeeze, mumbling a ‘love ya.’

god, he can’t wait until the day he actually wants to tell you no. he can’t wait until he can tell you that he knows what your little ‘trick’ is and how it’s never really worked on him. he can see right through your little head. he wants to watch you stumble over your words and try to explain yourself to him, break you down until you’re begging for his forgiveness. that’s when the real tears come out.

I SAID TOJI LIKES SOFT CRYBABY GIRLS BUT I DIDNT SAY IT WAS FOR A HEALTHY REASON :3 he likes to break them u can’t tell me otherwise

i’d still fuck him icl.

[thesoftestpunk]

I want you, Baby I need you

Summary: your friend tells you someone may like you and so stupidly, you begin to think about them a little differently

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: I feel like my brain fog made the pacing weird :/

Warnings: bullying, girls being mean :(, lots of fluff and pining!!

Main Masterlist

Pt.2

“Guess what?” One of your teammates, Christina, asks the second you place your tray down on the table, looking too smug for your liking. Before you can even ask, she’s talking over you. “The freak has a crush on you.”

“Who?” You genuinely forget who she’s referring to for a second, but her scoff seems to jog your memory. “Oh. Eddie Munson?” 

“Who else?” She sneers, and everyone else around you laughs like it’s some huge joke, but you’re certain she isn’t joking. “God, how embarrassing.”

Your cheeks burn as they laugh even harder. You let out a weak chuckle, feeling the world around you shrink and become suffocating. 

“Yeah,” you let out, trying to play along. “Could you imagine? Me and him?” 

You blatantly refuse to call him a freak. Since moving into town two years ago, you quickly learned city life and small town life were completely different worlds. Despite falling in with the semi-popular crowd by joining the swimming team, you understood the struggle Eddie and his friends had to go through. You weren’t freak status back home, but you weren’t popular either. Not always well known, but always well liked, and your new friends teasing him about the rumor makes you worry about it spreading. For your sake and not his. You don’t want to deal with any sort of teasing from anyone.

Guilt crawls up your throat as you steal a glance toward his table, catching his eye as he curiously looks on at the boisterous scene going on around you. You give a quick smile, which probably comes off as more of a wince, and turn back around. In all honesty, he hasn’t been on your radar. You don’t know much about him other than the fact that he’s loud, labeled The Freak of Hawkins High, and has made a scene or two in class. 

“Oh god,” Christina sighs out, wiping nonexistent tears from her eyes. “Pathetic.” 

Humming half heartedly, you focus on shoving your shitty school food around your tray instead of eating it, a sudden pit sitting heavy in your stomach. Because Eddie having a crush on you actually felt flattering. 

You choose to sit next to him in English, even give a small smile when you sit. There’s still time before the bell rings, and you find yourself glancing over at him. You open and close your mouth, uncertain of what to say until the words suddenly come tumbling out.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

For a second he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him until the silence makes him look up and realize you’re staring straight at him, expectantly. He points to himself as if asking ‘me?’ eyebrows raised and his already wide doe eyes getting even wider. And you nod while fighting off a smile. 

“Why d’you wanna know?” He eyes you suspiciously, certain that whatever information you’re about to get out of him is going to get back to your friends and fuel the constant fire over his head. 

“I dunno,” you shrug a shoulder, but you’re honest. What the fuck were you supposed to say to Eddie Munson anyway? He was intimidating as hell because he put himself in the spotlight like it was nothing. It isn’t like you hate attention, but too much makes you nauseous. “Thinking about getting one, I guess?”

“You guess?” His head tilts, causing his hair to cascade over his shoulder. Of course he would be defensive. Christina was just making fun of him less than an hour ago. 

“It’s- forget it,” you shake your head. You can’t believe you would trust your nasty, mean friends when they said he had a crush on you. 

Turning back to the front of the classroom, you wait painfully for the bell to ring, and once it does, the room fills quickly with slightly out of breath students. A couple of your teammates wave at you until you finally break and they gesture wildly, asking ‘what the fuck are you doing sitting next to him?’ All you can do is give an apologetic shrug and decide you’ll lie to them later and say it was the only seat you could find. They just roll their eyes and pull out their textbooks. 

“Five.” Eddie’s voice surprises you. 

Turning your head, you hope no one sees when you ask. “Did they hurt?”

“No, ‘course not.” He bites back a smile, trying to act all tough. 

“Liar.” Your nose scrunches and it makes him laugh at how cute it is. 

You don’t mean to, truly, but now you look out for Eddie in the halls, stare at him during class, and hope for one more conversation. One that’s less embarrassing, but you do hope. Despite your friend's relentless teasing after English class the other day, you give a small wave back anytime he gives you one. You never initiate first, too shy and afraid it’ll lead to more teasing. This way you can just say you’re being polite when you wave back and they see, but more often than not, they’re too caught up in their own little worlds. Even though you’re scared they’ll tease, you keep an eye out for him and you learn more than you ever knew before. He’s polite. He lets the cheerleaders walk ahead if they bump into each other at a corner in the hall. One arm is tucked behind his back as he sweeps the other out and he bows a little. They give him weird looks respectively, but he just smiles and moves on. He might joke around with his friends, but if you listen closely, you can hear the kindness and compliments hidden underneath the meaning of his words. The group is small, but he holds the same amount of care for each and every one of them. Including his ‘little sheepies’ which you don’t fully understand, but he used a lot of words you don’t understand, and you thought you were smart. After a little investigating, you learn some of them are made up, but you seem to like the fact that he’s nerdy and into this series called Lord of the Rings. 

You’re starting to like Eddie.

“Oh my God,” Christina moves in your line of sight, in front of him. You’d positioned yourself at the cafeteria table so you didn’t have to turn around to subtly watch him anymore. “Are you staring at the freaks?”

“Stop calling them that,” you roll your eyes. “You know I hate that.”

She crosses her arms defensively. “Just, you know, being honest. What’s so interesting about them anyway?”

“Nothing.” You mutter, going back to nibbling on the shitty cardboard pizza they served today. 

She turns around and gets the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen from her when her eyes connect with Eddie’s. 

“Holy shit. You’ve got a crush on The freak!”

“Christina!” You swat at her, but it’s too late. Everyone else at your table already heard and is staring at you incredulously. “I- I do not.”

“Puh-lease. You’ve been making googly eyes at him for weeks at this point!”

“It hasn’t been weeks,” you mutter under your breath.

“Ew!” Another one of the girls scrunches her nose and jabs a thumb in his direction. “Him?”

“Better be careful, Y/N,” another taunts. “Don’t wanna find you in the woods. I heard he, like, sacrificed a girl out there last year. No one’s heard from her since.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Christina pretends to look concerned. “You think that’s what happened to Nancy’s friend too? What was her name? Bev?”

“Didn’t he like…” the girl to your left leans in and stage whispers, but she could be heard from across the room if you listened hard enough. None of them understood the concept of speaking at a normal volume. “Bite a bat's head off?” 

“That was actually Ozzy Ozbourne!” Eddie leans so far back in the chair that the two front legs don’t touch the ground, one of his legs lifted so the bottom of his dirty Reebok’s supports his weight against the table. 

You’re mortified at the idea that Eddie has heard every single word, but he was at the other end of the long table today. 

“Ugh,” Christina rolls her eyes again before turning to face him. “As if we know that freak either!”

“Tina,” you hiss, not wanting to start a scene over this nonsense. 

“Whatever. You don’t have a crush.” She fully faces the table again and starts talking about the party at Jason’s after the game on Friday. 

You go to throw an apologetic look at Eddie, but find him missing from the table, and a couple of his friends send glares your way, making you shrink in shame. 

Eddie isn’t in English, or History, and you find out through the grapevine he skips the rest of the day entirely. It wasn’t uncommon for him to do, but you feel like it’s your fault. The days leading up to the party, he seems to avoid you, eyes darting away quickly and showing up late enough to class that it’s guaranteed there’s no free seats around you. Christina seems to take notice of your sour mood, but only asks once. You lie and say you’re fine, but you feel sick to your stomach. You never actively partook in the bullying, but you never stopped it either. 

The day of the game finally rolls around, filled with school spirit and a pep rally, but once again Eddie is nowhere to be found. Not that he’d ever attended a pep rally in his whole high school career, but you at least expected to spot him at lunch. He’s even absent from your shared classes. After school, you hang around in the parking lot, wasting time before you all have to go home and get ready for the game. You frown as you observe his friends, chatting away aimlessly and occasionally throwing candy around. They hang around what you think is Eddie’s van, but if he skipped all day, why would he be here now? 

“Hey,” Christina’s voice surprises you, quiet and genuine. “Just us girls… you have a crush on Munson?”

“I…” you trail off, surprised she isn’t faking her valley girl voice, and you feel like you can trust her once again since you met her two years ago. She wasn’t your first friend in Hawkins, but you had been close when you first joined the team. “I dunno. He’s actually kinda sweet. Maybe?”

“Seriously?” And then she guffaws, catching you off guard once more. “Ugh, grody! Guys, Y/N actually has a crush on Munson!”

“I- I didn’t say that!” You can’t believe Christina would do something like that. As you watch them all laugh and tease, you wonder when they all got so mean and why you started letting them get away with it. 

“You said maybe. That’s, like, totally a yes!”

“Like it’s such a bad thing to have a crush on me?” 

Everyone quiets as you slowly turn around to find Eddie standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

“Eddie, I…” you aren’t even sure what to say as he glares down at you. 

“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging around you, Munson.” Christina’s voice makes you squeeze your eyes shut in frustrated embarrassment. “Even your parents couldn’t stand to stay around. Must be hard having a cultist son. Fucking embarrassing.”

The lot gets so quiet, you can hear the grinding of his teeth as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t even dignify her with a response, turning and walking away before anyone can see the red staining his cheeks. 

“Tina… that was major harsh.” One of the girls breaks the silence. 

“Oh, eat my shorts, Janice. Are we getting ready at my house or not?” 

Everyone seems to hesitate but Christina was captain of the team. No one was going to say no. Well, no one but you. 

“I’ve, um, got a thing. I’ll meet you guys at the game.” You glance over toward Eddie, watching as he harshly shoves his shoulder back to avoid one of his friends' hands. 

You shouldn’t go to the game, but you do.

Janice called you from Christina’s house, sounding hopeful. You promised to be there, despite your whole body screaming at you to just stay home. Janice promises the whole thing will blow over by Monday, and something else will come along. But it won’t just blow over with Eddie. You know that. He had looked so hurt when you turned around to face him. In all the years of getting bullied, that was the first time he showed anyone what their words did to him. And it was your fault. 

You had promised Janice you’d be there, but when you stand outside the gymnasium, you can’t make yourself go in. Can’t make yourself face who you thought were your friends. So, you walk down a path between the large building and the school and take out a key. The pool was somewhat separated, but you could still hear the muffled band playing when you entered the echoey room. You keep a spare swimsuit in your locker for this exact situation. The sport helped clear your mind and you needed to get rid of the image of Eddie’s broken look.

You swim even after the cheering and the band stops. You swim until you feel like your limbs are going to fall off, and even though you don’t want to, you shower off the chlorine. As you step out into the somewhat cool autumn air, a double door bursts open, and the kids that come spilling out make you stop. 

His little sheepies. Which means… 

Fuck. 

Eddie is the last one out, smile so wide you can’t help but wonder if it hurts. They all talk over each other, but Eddie just seems to watch over in pride. You take a step back into the shadows, hoping your bright multicolored windbreaker doesn’t give you away. 

“Hey!” Is that… Steve Harrington? “You guys were supposed to be done an hour ago.”

“The campaign ends when it ends, Steve!” One of them retorts back. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have all night Henderson. Let’s go!” 

All three freshmen rush to Steve’s BMW and scramble inside. He and Eddie share a nod before he gets in and peels out of the lot, and you can still hear all of them shouting in excitement. The other three seniors exchange goodbyes before parting ways, but Eddie sticks behind. Neither of you move until all the cars are gone except for his van and yours. Why the fuck hasn’t he moved? 

“Is it just you?” Eddie finally speaks, turning toward your piss poor excuse of a hiding spot. “Or is the rest of the team waiting somewhere?”

“I’m- I’m alone.” It scares you once you realize you’re the only two on the property. Probably the only two within a few miles at this point. “Look, I’m really sorry about them. Christina especially. I don’t know when she got so…”

“Bitchy?”

That makes you breathe out a laugh, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he shifts his weight to his other leg, observing you and the whole situation. 

“Do you want to sit by the pool and talk?” It’s starting to feel pretty creepy outside, and the cold night wasn’t helping your wet hair.

“I thought it was locked after hours.” 

You hold up the bronze key, but offer up an explanation anyway. “My uncle is actually the coach. He got me into swimming competitively in the first place. Technically I’m not allowed to bring friends in but…”

“Good thing I’m not really a friend.” He walks past you and you’re a bit frozen in place, not believing he accepted. 

You’re nervous as you unlock the door once more and wave him inside like he would but you give an awkward curtsy. As he’s turning in a small circle to take in how the water reflects off the walls and ceiling, you slip off your shoes and roll up your jeans as far as you can go. He begins to do the same when he sees you sticking your feet in the water. 

“Jesus Chri-! That’s cold!” His voice bounces off the walls, and your laughter follows. 

“Well, yeah, most pools are.” You tuck your hands underneath your thighs and move your right leg around in small circles, disrupting the water. “Didn’t see you at the game.” 

“That kind of stuff is bullshit. Forced conformity.” Before he goes on a rant, he looks at the sly smile on your face, as if you were going to enjoy this topic of conversation. But he knew you’d react either of two ways if he kept on. Confused, or freaked out. So he leans back on his palms and tries to act casual. “And if I’m guessing right, you weren’t there either.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” You give a halfhearted shrug. “Christina really… what she said about your parents— I just don’t see her the same anymore. I don’t know how it happened, but she just got so mean, and everyone’s too scared to say anything because she's the captain. Sorry, I’m- ranting.”

“Christina wasn’t far off.” 

The admission bounces around as you look at him.

“Eddie…”

“It was forever ago.” He kicks the water, causing a small splash. “Aren’t you co-captain anyway?”

“Yeah? So?” You didn’t think he would know that, and it makes you feel all mushy inside that he knows something so simple about you. 

“So don’t you have us much say as her?”

“With her tyrannical rule? No way.” 

“No shame in running, but sometimes you gotta be the hero.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “I’m sure getting to Mordor would be easier than standing up to Christina.” 

“You’ve read…?”

“No.” That’s a half lie. “Well, sorta. I haven’t gotten very far. I don’t know if it’s my thing, but you talk about it so much, I wanted to check out all the hype.”

Eddie looks taken aback, mouth hung open. 

“Is that what dungeons and dragons is?” You ask curiously, which seems to take him back even more. “I mean everybody says it’s bad, but it’s just nerd shit, right? Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It is nerd shit.” He straightens his back at the new topic of conversation. “All it is, is tabletop fantasy role play. Doesn’t have to be like Lord of the Rings. You could have a whole western fantasy campaign. Maybe even in space.” He’s ranting, and god does he know it, but you lean in instead of awkwardly looking away like everyone else does.

“Campaign…?” 

“Well, it’s…” Eddie thinks for a moment before explaining in the most simple of terms how a campaign works. You nod along, enthralled by every detail, even when he derails and starts rambling about character class and stats. He rambles on about their current campaign to help explain better, and he uses silly voices and moves animatedly. You laugh, but not at him. He continues to tease, loving your laugh and that you aren’t making fun of him. His arms flail a bit and he gives a few teasing nudges, but in his excitement he forgets his strength. 

“Wait, Eddie-!” You fall in the water, grabbing on to him in an attempt to stop, but end up pulling him down with you. The both of you come up spluttering, but you end up laughing at the mop of hair on his head. 

“Shit,” he laughs nervously. “It’s deep.”

“Wait. Can you swim?”

“Well, I’m no athlete, but yeah. I can swim.” 

“Well…” you swim forward, a sly smile creeping its way onto your face. “Might as well, right? We’re already in here. You’ll want your jacket off, though. It’s gonna be too much dead weight.”

“Right, I’ll uh…”

“Here, I’ll keep us afloat while you get it off.” 

Before he can understand what’s happening, you wrap your arms around his waist, your face entirely too close to his. With what little space you have, you can see freckles splashing across his face, and you chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your composure. He avoids eye contact as he struggles out of the leather, the tip of his tongue making a surprise appearance, before tossing the jacket aside and it lands with a loud wet slap. 

“Cool. Now good luck catching me!” You splash him a little harsher than you had intended, but you make a dash to escape.

“You’re gonna regret that!” 

You’re a lot better at swimming than he is, almost too fast to be caught, but you slow down after awhile on purpose. As his hand wraps around your ankle, making you squeal, you tell yourself you did it to not wear him out and frustrate him. That you didn’t want to anger him, as he’s pulling you into him and dunking both of you under water. You struggle against his arms, but he’s strong. You can feel the unexpected muscle against your hands, but he lets you go too soon and you both come up gasping for air. 

“Told ya.” water sprays a bit from his mouth as his chest heaves. 

“You cheated.” 

“I never cheat, sweetheart.” He wades toward you slowly, dropping down just until his mouth sinks into the water. 

“Eddie Munson, don’t you dare,” you warn but your tone is too light. “You dunk me again, I’ll- I’ll make sure you smell like chlorine for a week.” 

He doesn’t listen, and you swim backward until your back crashes into the tiled wall. The cold sends a shiver down your spine. Definitely not the way Eddie comes back up, water dripping from his chin and his arms blocking you in on either side of you. His eyes drop to your lips and you find yourself breathing heavily for a completely different reason, your chest brushing against his with every inhale. Neither of you make a move, just admiring every detail you can while breathing each other's air. Just when you think he might, a loud bang comes from one of the locker rooms, making you both jump and look around frantically. You find yourself gripping one of his forearms tightly in shock. 

“We should- we should probably get out.” No one else had access to the pool except your uncle, but you doubted he would come by at midnight. He trusted you to not fool around, and you really hadn’t let him down until now. “I swear the locker rooms are haunted.” 

Still, you don’t move until he does, and swim to the nearest ladder to get out. The only sound is the water from your clothes dripping on the floor, and suddenly you feel exhausted. Your clothes feel heavy as they cling to your skin. Without discussing it, you both start peeling your clothes off, slightly turned away to give each other privacy. As you’re wringing out your shirt, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder at Eddie, and catch the way his shoulder blades move while he does the same. His eyes catch yours and you smile sheepishly before turning back around. You’re both down to your underwear, unsure of how to proceed. 

“We should shower. Alone I mean. You can go to the boys’. There’s towels.” You speed walk away, too self conscious to hang around too long. 

“Wait!” He follows you quickly, careful not to slip. “You’re just gonna drop the fact that the locker rooms are haunted and then leave me alone to fend for myself?”

Your footsteps slow, and you let out a small huff because you know you know you’ll feel guilty until the end of time if you do that to him. 

“There’s going to be rules, Munson.”

“Oh, of course.” He agrees quietly.

“We go in at the same time and undress fully in our own shower. You’re not to come out until I have, and even then, you’re not to look anywhere but your own shower. When I say it’s okay, you can leave, got it?”

“I think you forgot the part about the towels.”

“Do not make me regret this.” 

You’ve never been so self conscious showering until now. Even with a zero percent chance of Eddie seeing you naked, you worry, but you also think about the fact that he’s in the same exact state you’re in right now. That somehow makes the whole thing feel way too intimate, and you can’t believe the first time you got to hang out with your -possible- crush, you both end up naked. If that basic, no detailed rumor got out, you’d surely die of embarrassment. Turning around, you place your face underneath the stream of water, trying so hard to not think about the small glimpse of his torso that you got. The dark patch of hair sneaking underneath his boxers that clung to his thighs from the water. 

“So, are you from Hawkins?” His voice brings you out of your wandering thoughts. You quickly turn the knob from hot to cold in hopes that it keeps you calm.

“My parents are.” Looking down, you watch the water swirl around at your feet. “My grandmother got sick and my uncle couldn’t take care of her by himself. So, we packed up and moved back here, but I can tell my parents are happy to be back home. It’s less demanding than the city.”

“The uncle being coach thing makes a lot more sense now.”

“Not a lot of people know actually.” You turn the water off completely, and wrap your arms around your torso self consciously. “I’m getting out now.”

It isn’t the easiest topic of conversation, but when she had first gotten sick two years ago, your mother went to stay with her for the three months she had been told she would live. When it was clear she was going to hang on longer than expected, they decided it would just be better to move permanently and the old lady was still sticking around. Despite being so sick, you liked hanging out with her most afternoons. Even if she forgot who you were.

You carefully walk out of the shower, towel wrapped around yourself tightly, and as you pass by the stall that Eddie is in, you catch a glimpse in the crack between the curtain and wall. All you manage to catch is the back of his head, arms extended upward to wash out whatever shampoo you’d let him borrow. He begins to turn and you look away with your cheeks burning. You attempt to dry your hair underneath one of the hand dryers, and it isn't long when Eddie comes out, damp boxers back on and using the towel you gave him to rub his hair dry. He pauses seeing you kneeled down, holding the towel to your chest so that nothing gets exposed and he realizes he forgot to wait for your okay, but you don’t seem to mind as you give a soft smile. 

“I’ll grab our clothes.” He says when the dryer finally turns off and leaves you to get somewhat decent. 

He’s suddenly so quiet as he hands over your clothes, no witty comment or joke as the two of you get dressed. All there is between you are stolen glances and nervous smiles. Once fully clothed again, you walk beside him, feeling a little stiff. Not from how your cold clothes stick to you, but from nerves. The soft lights from the pool make his face glow, and your stomach drops in the best way possible. He gets the door for you, and waits with his hands stuffed in his jacket as you lock up. The grass crunches underneath your footsteps, dry from the temperature and lack of rain. Neither of you speak, until you hit the parking lot, cars too far from each other to continue walking together.

“Were they right?” You ask before he gets a chance to escape, arms anxiously crossed over your chest. “My friends. ‘Cause if they were… I think I have one too.”

“Have what?”

Shit. You were too vague.

“A crush, dummy.” 

Realization dawns on his face as he absorbs your confession. He can’t believe it, and the worst smallest part of him thinks you’ve done this whole thing as a joke, and someone is going to pop out with a camera to capture how big of an idiot he’s been. All that happens is you chew on your bottom lip, anxiously waiting for an answer, and he's leaving your heart out in the open for too long. 

“Yes, yeah, they were right.” He watches how you smile and takes a mental image to last forever. “I’m not really quiet about anything.” 

“I just never expected…” you shake your head and look at your feet. “You. You’ve just so suddenly become this big thing in my life.” 

Eddie barely has to take a step to be close enough to take your face in his hands and lift your head up to pull you into a searing kiss. It’s so unexpected that you laugh in surprise against his lips, but he smiles at the sound. When you’ve settled down, you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, eager to feel his heartbeat slow to match the rhythm of your own. He kisses you so sweetly, you really do think he’s a gentleman. A quick slip of his tongue doesn’t change your mind either.

“If you don’t stop me,” he gets out between kisses. “We’ll be here all night sweetheart.”

“I like that idea,” you tease as his lips move along your jawline, and down your neck. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you focus on every feeling.

Eddie pulls back, showing some self restraint and you almost whine at the loss of contact.

“You’re gonna get a cold if you stay out here.”

“So will you!”

“I’m going to walk you to your car, and you’re going to go home and get all snuggled in bed, okay?” He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, the ghost of a smile ever present.

“Fine.”

Eddie takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and walks the short distance to your car. You make no move to enter, back pressed against the driver side door, and grab him by his jacket. He braces himself with one arm, looking down at you, his other hand stroking your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The featherlight touch makes you shiver, and you find yourself getting lost in his almost pitch black eyes. Those eyes that are so beautiful and full of lashes, that a cow would be jealous. You pull him in for another kiss, arms wrapping underneath his jacket and around his small waist. He groans into your mouth, not wanting to leave if you were going to kiss him slowly like that.

“I’m personally thanking Christina on Monday.” He gives your knuckles a quick kiss before taking a few steps backwards, not wanting to look away, and turning for his own vehicle.

Christina’s head almost explodes when he does exactly that and plants a kiss on your lips in the cafeteria, but you just act innocent when you take his outstretched hand and move to sit with him at his table. It felt good, and it felt even better when you give her the finger when she wouldn’t stop staring.

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

day 1: micro/macro (unedited) | NSFW MDNI 18+

"It'll come when the time is right, bub. Just don't give up yet." Logan cooed as he wiped your tears away with his calloused thumb, your bedroom was silent. 

You were beyond frustrated; Everyone else at Xavier's School had some control over their mutations, except you. You couldn't reach your full potential yet and It felt juvenile to complain to Logan about it. But It wasn't like you could just go up and talk to your classmates and ask them how they mastered their abilities; Being in an intimate relationship with a professor was considered taboo, even between mutants. 

"I want it soon, that way I'll be able to go on missions with you. That's all I've wanted since I came here." You mumbled, scanning the weathered lines that contoured his eyes. 

"It won't come any faster if you cry about it, baby." He got up, sliding his hands down your jaw to your wrists. "Let's change up those thoughts for a bit, huh? How does that sound?" He slightly pulled your wrists, urging you to get up with him. You complied, rising from your seat. 

"What do you have in mind?" You looked down at your socked feet on the wooden floor. 

Logan's lips crashed onto your exposed shoulder. The coarse prickling of his facial hair brushed against your sensitive skin, sending that shiver you know all too well down to your core.

 "M' gonna help my baby relax, that's all." He mumbled between wet kisses as he trailed up to the base of your neck. The lightheadedness from your crying earlier made you more sensitive to touch, making his mouth feel warmer, softer and wetter than usual. The heightened sensation made your nipples harden with every kiss, your body growing hungrier with each one. 

"Mmmh, you feel good Lo'." You breathed out, your head gently falling backwards allowing him better access. His large hand gripped your breast, thumbs digging softly into the pillowy tissue. A spasm rushed through your chest sporadically, hot and tingling from his touch. You felt your breasts suddenly become heavier and your body instantly leaned forward to support the newfound weight. 

"Woah," You caught your fall on his sturdy frame. The skin of your chest expands with each millisecond as your breasts begin to swell bigger and bigger. Your mutation of being able to shrink and grow was currently having an interesting reaction to sexual stimulation. 

You peer down, seeing your now full shirt, practically ripping at the seams. "What a strange time to actually work," You mumbled more to yourself than to him. 

You look up at Logan, whose eyes are glued to your front, with a wide tight-lipped grin. "Looks like my idea is working, c'mere baby." He gently pushes you to the bed, your breasts recoiling from the impact of your bed.

"Let's take a better look at em', hm? " Logan growls before he rips your overfilled shirt open with a swift swipe of his blades. The relief of the pressure makes you hum in delight, as your breasts spring out of the restrictive material.

"Oh my god," He groaned, covering his mouth with his hand in awe while taking in the sight before him. The gorgeous pair he had initially fallen in love with and could not get enough of had just tripled in size. 

You flushed red as you saw primitive darkness overcome him, the critical-thinking Logan was no longer in the driver's seat, a more animalistic side had now taken over. He lowered his hand, palming his painful erection through his jeans to ease some pressure.

Logan caged you underneath him as he crawled onto the mattress. His lips met yours instantly, sending butterflies in your lower stomach. There was something in the way that he kissed you that made your head swoon, his lips were soft but the kiss wasn't. Wet lips and tongues gliding over each other, as you moaned in his mouth from the pleasure. 

His hands slid to your breasts, sensually rolling his thumbs over your aching nipples. With every flick, they stiffened eagerly. He broke the kiss. holding your gaze for a moment before dropping to one of them. He sucked one into his mouth, the contrast of the cool air and the warmth of his mouth covered your skin in goosebumps. He gently passed his tongue over your delicate bud as his hand caressed your other. 

Your fingers knotted in his thick hair as he worked on your chest, earning a low grunt from him. In response he gave you a soft bite, giving you that stinging sensation you liked.

"Fuck," You moaned. 

Logan let go of your nipples earning a whine from you and got up on his knees, unzipping his pants. "Suck," He ordered, before pushing two fingers of his free hand in your mouth. You gagged around them as they made their way deeper into your throat. "That's it, just like that princess." Spit began to leak from your lips.

He kicked off his jeans and underwear to the side, dressed in only his white tank top. He retrieved his fingers from you, a saliva string following. He lathered his hard cock with your spit letting out a breathy sigh from the anticipated friction. With the leftover drool, he rubbed some on your chest. 

"I've always wanted to do this," He said before straddling your chest. Logan's hands found their way to each breast and pushed them together.  He loomed above you as he positioned himself properly, his delicious cock swaying from side to side, inches away from your face.

He sucked in a deep breath as he positioned himself between your tits, and exhaled sharply as he pushed the head of his cock in. Your soft wet skin, allowing his veiny length to glide into your cleavage.

 His swollen red tip poked out near your chin as he began to thrust In and out. Logan's hips snapped back and forth in delight. He quickly picked up a steady rhythm, making him bite down on his lip. His eyes met yours, clouded with lust. Logan looked at you like you were his goddess, he could not keep his eyes off of you. Every curve of your body, inch of your soft supple skin was perfection.

This entire experience was too surreal for him and the whole spontaneity of the situation crept his orgasm closer with each pump. Your hands found themselves above your head, gripping the pillow behind you as you felt his cock twitch at your sternum.

Logan's movements became sloppy as his breathing grew shallow. Small grunts and moans escaped his lips as he pleasured himself with your body. He couldn't help himself, it was too much, too good. 

His head tipped back as warm ribbons of white covered your face a chest. The grip on your breasts tightened as he rode out his orgasm. 

"Fuck baby," He managed to get out between breaths.

He plopped down on the bed beside you, removing his shirt to use as a clean up rag. He carefully folded it, patting you dry from his seed.

“Got a little carried away there,” He avoided your eyes shyly.

“You did didn’t you?” You teased back.

“Alright, alright. Now I’m gonna do what I was originally planning on doing.”

With a coy smirk, he shifts on the bed and places himself between your thighs.

🏷️: @back2thebasics , @spookyfunhottub, @lanassmarty, @hypermarvellove, @kbear8863,

@squishyfruitloop, @v3rdee , @instantpersonawombat, @a-leg-without-fear, @eyes-ofhell

If you'd like to join my tagged list and be notified whenever I post new content, click ->-> HERE<-<-, instructions will follow.

->->masterlist<-<-

[livwritesstuff]

i was writing a totally different thing and then all of a sudden it was thundering so here have this

Steve had always loved a good thunderstorm. There’s something sort of magic about them, he thinks, about the greenish, unnatural darkness and the way lightning turns the sky a kind of purple and how the air is both cool and warm at the same time.

Back when he was a teenager, when he was stuck by himself the mausoleum his parents called home, he’d sometimes sit by the patio door and watch the storm, watch the clouds opened up and beat rain down on the pool water, and Steve would feel more alive than he had in ages – even if it felt like he was living vicariously through…something. Maybe through how nature gets to storm and rage in a way Steve never will.

But he tries not to psychoanalyze himself. He’s got his own therapist for that.

Twenty-five years later, here he is still watching thunderstorms. He might not have a pool, but he does have a porch which, in his old age of forty-two, he’s learning might be even better.

He’s sitting on the porch with his husband by his side, and Eddie’s got their youngest daughter sitting in his lap while the older two dance in and out of the rain.

Eddie doesn’t like thunderstorms the way Steve does. It had sort of surprised Steve actually, when he first found out years and years ago because…it’s Eddie. Eddie is like a thunderstorm personified in the best way – all sharp smiles and dark eyes and wild hair and loud, reckless rebellion. Sure, Eddie isn’t bothered by the noise of thunderstorms, but over their years together, Eddie has shared some things — things about his dad and what he’d been able to get away with during a dark, loud storm that maybe he couldn’t otherwise.

So Steve gets it if Eddie still isn’t quite himself during thunderstorms.

Their youngest, Hazel, isn’t a fan of them either. She’s just a few months shy of her second birthday, so this really is the first summer she’s had her own opinions about these kinds of things. The verdict – not a fan of the thunderstorms, though she’s been a trooper about this one.

"Hazy, come play!" Robbie exclaims from the porch steps, but Hazel just shrinks further back against Eddie.

"She's a little afraid of the noise, Beans," Steve tells her, and he watches Robbie's face take on an expression of protective (albeit a little confused) concern.

“How come?” she asks as comes up the steps.

“It can be scary if it’s brand new.”

As if to illustrate Steve’s point, lightning flashes above the trees, and Hazel makes a whimpery kind of whine as thunder follows only a few moments later.

“It’s not scary, Hazel,” Robbie tells her, “Because you always know when thunder’s coming because lightning comes first. And it’s only loud when the storm is close.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, reminding himself that one of these days he’s gotta stop being so impressed by how damn smart his kids are.

Another flash of lighting lights up the dark sky, and Robbie covers Hazel's ears with her hands as she looks out into the rain, "And now there's gonna be the thunder."

A few moments later, thunder rumbled around them, maybe a little bit quieter than the last one because the storm is definitely moving away from them now. Still, Hazel reaches up to grip at Robbie’s wrists, her eyes wide and fixated on the stormy sky.

“See?”

Hazel manages a nod.

“Come play!” Robbie urges her again, “I’ll cover your ears before the thunder comes.”

And this time, Robbie actually succeeds in dislodging Hazel from Eddie’s lap, and together they head for the front yard where Moe is still running around in the rain, wet bangs plastered to her forehead.

“Steve,” Eddie mutters in disbelief as Robbie patiently waits for Hazel’s slow descent of the porch stairs, breaking his and Steve’s subconscious agreement to keep their traps shut while that glorious scene was unfolding, “Oh my god, Steve. What the fuck was that? Are we actually doing a good job raising these kids?”

“I guess so, Jesus Christ.” 

[flowerfreya]

Cherry Wish

Deny

Cherry Wish Masterlist

Pairing: Omega!Simon x Alpha!Soap x Beta!Reader

Content: Johnny and Simon are in a established ten year relationship and Reader works at a grocery store, hasnt been in a relationship in three years and can't go to sleep without Nyquil, and they want her but she likes to be alone (not really, in fact it's quite the opposite)

They found you working at the grocery store. Immediately enthralled. Had to have you. Their one collective brain cell couldn’t think anything other than mine.

Simon and Soap have been together for 10 years, never thinking about taking a third, of course they have bouts. One night stands but the longest they had kept one was for a month. It doesn’t usually work out, they don’t discriminate with designation either , Beta, Omega, Alpha it’s really up to them. 

But your scent calmed them , smelled like fresh laundry and lavender and one of those perfect fall days. 

~

You smiled at them when you saw them, just like how you did with any other customer. You’re kind of over today , just wanted to go home and curl up with a good book and maybe some wine and Nyquill. You are checking them out with all their stuff , when you glance up again and see that they are just smiling at you. You give them a brighter smile and a small and awkward , okay. You haven’t seen two Alphas in a relationship for a long time, it’s actually very uncommon but not impossible. Good for them. 

“Hi”, the  one with the mohawk says. 

“Hi” you reply back hoping to be polite but also get the point across that you don’t really want to talk. 

“You smell nice”, the taller one says , which has you giving him a wide eyed stare. God damnit. Of course they are weird. It’s always the cute ones that are fucking wierdos. You know your beta and most of the time betas are with other betas, considering that the only gender that can really make an alpha’s knot comfortable is omegas. It is possible for other genders too , but it’s a lot of stretching , prepping , and messy. 

For a beta, you do have a pretty strong scent, multiple people have told you that, but that is about where the similarities stop with identifying with omegas. 

Mohawks gives the bigger guy an elbow to the gut and shake his head, “What he means is that you are really pretty and maybe you would like to go out with us?”. 

You’re unamused but you know some men can’t take the fucking hint, “I have a boyfriend”, you shrug in a what can you do motion, “sorry” , you tac on just in case. 

“You don’t smell like you have a boyfriend”, tall one chides. 

“What’s it to you?” , you reply back, who the hell does this Alpha thinks he is talking to you like that. I mean he’s right you don’t have a boyfriend, haven’t had one in three years, you wouldn’t smell like someone else even if you wanted to. 

“Woah, woah,woah, let's calm down everyone, no harm done, `M sorry hen didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” , you can smell him pushing off a calming scent. 

“He started it”, you mumble under your breath. Looking up at the tall Alpha. And when he quickly shifts his eyes down it shocks you. Most alphas would stare you in the eye until you broke but not this one. Maybe he was broken. 

“Stop”, mohawks chastise the tall one , and he bows his head and sort of shrinks into himself, smelling of shame and humiliation. 

Oh. 

Oh

An omega. Interesting, you’ve never seen one so big and tall and so Alpha. It’s interesting, and you want to know more. 

Mohawk turn back towards you, “Sorry about him, I guess he forgot all his training at home” , he laughs at the end , you guess trying to make everything a joke, “Anyway, thank you for all your help, and see you around”, you watch them leave , feeling confused and sad and more lonely than you felt in a long time, maybe you should have gave them you number but maybe not.

Simon is angry at Soap , “You know she doesn’t have a boyfriend”. 

“I know that” , he replies, calm, cool, collected, it makes him mad that he’s not upset about this. 

Simon stumps his feet, having a tantrum, “So why can’t we take her out”, he whines. Soap already put the groceries in the back and is moving to the front of the car but to the passenger side, since he can’t drive because he could just pass out. Randomly. With no warning, so no driving for him. 

“If she lied about having a boyfriend, she obviously didn’t want to go out with us”, Simon knows that, he just doesn’t understand why. It’s making him upset and he knows he’s stinking up the car but he can’t help it. He put his foot on the brake and is just about to push the button when Soap stops him , “You okay to drive?”

“Maybe I need to take a second”, Simon answered, as an Omega, getting rejected is hard and it makes his emotion all over the place but usually the only one that gets conveyed is anger, “She smells so good”, he groans out. 

“I know hen, don’t worry, we’ll figure something out”, Soap answers with authority that only an Alpha with a plan would have. 

[vivalafxxku]

Crime Alley Solidarity

(I would like to preface this to say that I love Bruce but I need him to be the bad guy for the sake of my thoughts)

The Crime Alley Kids hate Batman.

Sure, at first it's because they think Batman abandoned Park Row, but they have some sort of respect for him since it could be worse? Without Batman, Crime Alley would be much worse but it's not getting better so their feelings towards the Caped Crusader is lukewarm at best.

Then Red Hood moves in and he... he looks out for them?

He vets soup kitchens, makes sure shelters are safe, beats (later kills, but Hood would never do that in front of a child) the crap out of creeps and drug dealers trying to use them? When he had the time, Red Hood would have impromptu tutoring sessions on the side of the street.

This leads to the Crime Alley Kids loving Red Hood.

So imagine their surprise that their favourite hero (they would never call Red Hood a hero to his face mainly because he would vehemently deny it, but that's what he is to the kids) that Batman, the supposed symbol of Gotham's justice, treats Red Hood with... was that disdain?

They've seen Red Hood interact with the other members of the team, they're friendly. The kids would even say they acted like family.

Nightwing shows the kids tricks and checks up on Red Hood. ("Are you eating, Little Wing? No new injuries? How are you feeling?" "Oh my god, you're really ruining my rep here, dickhead." It is said with no actual heat.)

Red Robin hands him information without needing an exchange other than a playful noogie that Red Robin wiggles out of in mild annoyance. ("Aw thanks Replacement, didn't know you cared so much." They can't see his face but hear the teaching tone of voice.)

Spoiler throws glitter at him and instead of firing a gun at the purple vigilante, he just sighs and attempts to shake off most of it. (It doesn't work, but at least it's red glitter.)

Black Bat would pop up, scaring the living daylights out of him, to give a quick hug before disappearing. (The kids get a kick out of the shriek coming from him.)

Signal, they rarely see the daytime vigilante, but when they do, Red Hood doesn't hesitate to give tips and tricks about their job. ("I'm not going to launch a rocket just to make an entrance for this bust, it's supposed to be discreet, Hood." "You can be discreet with a rocket launcher.")

And Robin threatens and complains when Red Hood claps a hand on his back or throws an arm over his shoulders, but like his reactions to Nightwing's clinginess, Robin doesn't do much other than verbalize his distaste even though he clearly has the skills to remove himself. (And if the kids witness Red Hood jumping across rooftops with a little bird clinging to his back with quiet laughter, that's no one's business other than theirs and the birds.)

So why was Batman looking at Hood with so much anger? Why was it that Hood looks to be shrinking on himself whenever the Dark Knight is nearby? Why do the other team members seem to step between them, almost like a protective barrier, when Batman talks to Red Hood? Why do his words sound stilted and rehearsed in reply to Batman's harsh words?

No one talks to their hero like that or makes their hero act like a shell of himself, especially not some wannabe hero who couldn't give them the time of day (or night).

So feelings towards Batman in Crime Alley turn from lukewarm to ice cold.

They don't talk to Batman, they actively hide from him (which they know puts a damper in the greatest detective's investigations, adults talk like kid's don't know what's going on all the time).

If Batman happens to corner them, they glare and are rude. They throw trash, pebbles, anything they can get their hands on and other kids distract so they can escape.

Crime Alley Kids look out for each other, and Red Hood is one of theirs.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 58

part 1 | part 57 | ao3

@steddie-island said i wasn't allowed to cut this lol. cw: angst, canon typical horror, mentions of minor character death

“Lucas called me a ghost today.”

Steve almost laughs, bitter and sharp. Sure. Why not? What’s one more ghost in his passenger seat?

He doesn't really want to talk to her right now, if he's honest. It's been fifteen minutes and she still hasn't apologized for trying to rob him, or explained where they're going, or what spooked her, or why this car ride was so urgent that he had to risk his job for it — a job he actually needs, considering his, well, everything. She's hardly said anything beyond the occasional "turn here" or "next left" while sulking with her forehead pressed against the window.

But he can tell she has something she needs to get off her chest, so he swallows his annoyance and offers, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says back. Doesn't elaborate.

He gives her another minute to gather her words, watches her open and close her mouth a few times in his periphery, but nothing comes out. She scoffs at herself and abruptly changes the subject. “Eddie was being extra… well, extra today.”

“Was he?” Steve asks, his bones itching under his skin. He doesn't want to talk about Eddie. Doesn't want to think his name.

“Yeah, he, uh- he was kinda manic? He was, like, running all over the cafeteria and starting shit with Jason Carver...” And he's only half-listening, anger simmering as she goes on and on, because she promised that Dustin didn't put her up to this. Said that this wasn't some bullshit excuse to get him to talk about Eddie or hang out with Eddie or think about Eddie or kiss and make up with fucking Eddie, and now she's just talking about him, and it-

And it hurts; god, it still just hurts—

"....Then he started rambling about how he can’t wait to get the hell out of here when he graduates.”

Searing-stabbing-burning-sharp. Steve clutches at the flare of pain in his chest, the crushed soda-can feeling where his heart's supposed to be. His head pounds. He follows her next direction onto a winding, tree-lined road, the canopy suffocating overhead, and his skin feels too dry — too tight, too small, shrink-wrapping him inside of it, because he knows where they are now. Knows the tilt of the rusted lamp shade, the shape of the weather brick paths. He's tasted the metal tang of this stop sign in his nightmares.

Fuck. Fuck.

"Cool," he grits out as he drives through the cemetery gates. Past stone and wrought iron, past the empty central fountain. He hasn't been here since July. “Good for him.”

“Steve-"

“Why are you telling me this?" he snaps. He throws the car in park under an old oak and turns to glare at her, barking a frustrated, "Huh?"

Immediately, he feels bad for raising his voice. Feels even worse for the way she flinches away. The naked fear on her face, her hand reaching for the door. He takes a long, deep breath and lets it out slowly through his nose. “Sorry. Sorry. Just-" There's a leak inside him somewhere; some infected, gaping hole, and his stupid heart keeps pumping all his blood into the wound. "Why are you-?”

“Look,” she says sharply, "I know it sucks. To talk about him." She's staring at the rows of headstones up ahead, her face gone steely with determination, her shoulders squared, her big eyes wide and a little wet when she turns to meet his gaze. “But whatever you were— whatever happened, it just… it really messed him up.”

Good. "You sound like Dustin."

"Maybe Dustin had a point."

"Since when?"

She throws her hands up, nostrils flaring. "I'm trying to tell you that I think he still cares!"

“Yeah? He’s got a seriously fucked up way of showing it if so!”

“Yeah, well some of us don’t know how to show it!”

And oh.

Oh.

Silence blankets them like dust. Eyes locked; harsh breaths. This has nothing to do with him and Eddie, does it?

Lucas called me a ghost.

Steve sighs and slumps forward, his forearms on the wheel, his chin resting on his wrist. The late afternoon sun is warm through the glass, and his head gives another nasty throb as he looks out over the hill, at the polished stones glinting in the golden hour rays.

His dad is buried here.

A lot of people are.

“Hey,” he murmurs, rolling his neck to look at her. The skin under her eyes is red. "Sorry for yelling."

She sniffs quietly. "Me, too."

He reaches over and gives her hand a quick squeeze, keeping his voice low and gentle. "You know you can just talk to me, right? Max, talk to me. Please.”

Her bottom lip quivers. “It’s nothing, okay?” She sinks down in her seat, crossing her arms to shield herself. “Shit’s just been… it’s just been weird all week. Like- like bad weird, and I don't know if I'm just going crazy, or— I mean, maybe Ms. Kelley's right, maybe's it's just— but it feels like…”

"Like what?"

She holds a hand out flat in front of her; flips her wrist over slowly so her palm faces the sky.

Steve's blood runs cold. He thinks of his own nightmares: the weird visions, the headaches, the persistent haunted feeling.

"I don't know anything for sure," she insists, rushing to reassure him before he can fully start to panic. "Seriously, don't freak out; I haven't, like, seen any gates or anything, it's just— bad dreams. Nose bleeds. I don't know." She hoists her backpack onto her shoulder. "I thought coming here might help."

He catches her by the arm, raking his eyes over her face, looking for any signs of danger. "Is there anything I can do?"

She shakes her head no and tugs free of his grip, and then she's slipping out of the car, letting the door fall shut behind her, and Steve watches her crest the hill while sirens wail inside his head.

—

part 59

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[lomlkenji]

༊*·˚ back home | peter parker

★ summary : peter doesn't want to be complicated anymore.

★ warnings : set after no way home, SO CHEESY GOODBYE. mentions of injuries & blood but nothing too detailed.

★ word count : 0.6k

── ⋆⋅☆ main masterlist

ᝰ                 The sun starts to peak into the skyline when you woke up by the sound of constant knocking. You groaned and groggily rolled over to your side, blinking your eyes quickly to get your vision focused. The knocking didn't seem to stop. You were certain that it was coming from your window and that made you even more confused.

"What the hell-" you tiredly mumbled. Your hands moving to wipe the sleep out of your eyes as your feet patted against the floor, moving to the sound.

You squint your eyes when you noticed a figure hanging outside the window. You were still delirious, so maybe you're having a lucid dream. But when you got a glimpse of the figure outside— you can recognize that suit from anywhere.

You immediately became more awake, "Holy shit. Peter?" the figure waved and you quickly opened your window for him to climb through.

He was clutching his side, his posture was tense, and his face resembled someone who just got their ass beaten up.

"Hey." He whispered softly; a fond smile made its way to his face in your sleepy state. He felt guilty for bothering you this early in the morning but when he got to see you like this— with messy bed hair, your eyes drooping, trying so hard to keep them open, wearing his worn-down midtown t-shirt, his guilt melts away. You are so so gorgeous without even trying.

You moved closer to him, "Don't "hey" me, are you hurt?!" you worriedly exclaimed, scanning him from top to bottom.

Peter's heart fluttered at your concern. Even when he knows that you could just ignore him and go back to sleep. Your hands were carefully moving around him trying to assess any injuries and he was in some sort of a daze as he looked at you. It made his heart yearn for you even more. No one has ever cared for him like this, it was merely luck that he had met you.

"Peter?" you called out to him when you noticed the spaced out look on his face.

"Hm?"

His eyes locked on yours and you had to stop yourself from shrinking back at how piercing his gaze was. He's giving you one of the looks that the main character in a movie always gives their love interest and it makes you feel warm all over.

"You okay?"

He nodded, "I am now." He didn't look away from you and you can't seem to take your eyes off of him too. Peter seemed to be having a battle inside of his head, as if he wanted to say something he shouldn't.

"I don't want us to be complicated." he settled with. His voice was tiny, almost as if he was scared to break the little comfortable bubble you guys were in.

You furrowed your eyebrows, confusion written on your face, "What do you mean?"

He sighed before continuing, "I like you. Y/N." he spoke, stepping closer to you, making your breath hitch. "I feel like I'm going crazy every time I'm with you. You make me feel safe and I don't have to worry if anything I say will annoy you, or you'll find me weird. Cause every time I ramble, you ramble with me and my heart just explodes." he tearfully laughed. "To me, you're home."

Your eyes softened and blinked a few times before a grin made it's way to your lips. You don't know what happened to him that made him do this, but you'll remember to ask that about that later.

"So please," he whispered, leaning his forehead on yours. His voice broke at the end and it made your heart give out a painful squeeze, "Be mine?"

You didn't waste time nodding your head. "Okay." you softly whispered, and Peter felt like he could scream from all of the emotions he's feeling. "You're my home too, y'know." you snickered.

"Oh thank god. I didn't actually think this would work." he nervously chuckled, a pink blush forming on his cheeks.

Your face began to hurt at how big you were smiling, "You had my heart from the very beginning you idiot."

Everything suddenly makes sense. The pieces are all falling into place. Years of pining and you finally got him.

"And mine, yours."

reblog for a kiss <3

[kozachenko]

[Click image for better quality]

I FIGURED OUT A WAY TO FUCKING MAKE THE IMAGE SMALLER FOR POSTING ON TUMBLR WITHOUT SACRIFICING THE ACTUAL QUALITY OF THE IMAGE OH MY GOD

Ok so, what I did is go into the clip studio paint file, make a new file, copy and paste the group in the original file, merge everything, get rid of the extra stuff outside of the canvas, and then make the flattened image smaller and crop the canvas. Once you have that, export it and you're done. This helps maintain the actual quality of the image and also helps shrink the file size down to something actually postable (if anyone has a better way of doing this please tell me)

[Edit]: Ok I guess posting something to Tumblr just naturally compresses the image a bit more somehow because I'm looking at it now and zooming in too much makes it a bit blurry so I'm still gonna have to futz around with image quality for future pieces oof

Artist's Note:

I'm so glad I figured out a way to do this because I like working on a big canvas so I can get as much detail in as I possibly can. Only problems are how laggy it gets while drawing lol.

I had an idea for a drawing with Reimu and Zanmu because I really like thinking about their potential dynamic a lot. I also wanted an excuse to draw Zanmu again but in my normal rendering style because last time I drew her she was in my more sketchy style with generally flat colours so I wanted to draw her again. Speaking of, looking at the sketch for this is a jumpscare that I never enjoy seeing, like, man am I glad I didn't use those for my final piece.

Also about her spear. I was originally gonna make it like the ones she had in game, but it kinda threw off the whole piece. It was too big, too blue, and too flat, so I just went "fuck it" and gave her a different one instead. My headcanon justifying this is that the ones she uses in game are for danmaku battles whereas in any other fight she just uses a proper yari, or she still uses the yari and just makes it all glowy to power it up, maybe both lol. I pulled as much inspiration as I could from Sengoku era spears, and even put in some blue into the decorative part of the spear and also added a little skull to pay tribute to the original spear. Also, in my research I saw some art of izanami and izanagi making japan and saw that the yari izanagi has had a little decorative tassley thingy on it so I took some inspo from that and just made it one of Zanmu's tassles (Idk when that art was from or if the spear was still accurate to Sengoku period Japan but hey, probably the same reasons Eirin puts little bow ties on her arrows, it's just for personalization purposes).

I love rendering hair and clothes so much omg, while I like the super curly hair Zanmu, the longer, wavier hair suits her better for this drawing (I imagine it only does that like how Ghibli characters hair moves when they feel angry lol). I love making Zanmu's hair all messy and crazy, as well as giving her grey hairs, this woman has aged like a fine wine. Also, if the hem on the ends of her sleeves, top of her shirt, and her pants look like gold to you, that's because it is! It's fairly light so she's not collapsing under the weight, but it's gold! (I don't care how impractical it is, it's just cool). Not the undershirt though, it's made of a gold fabric. I had a cute idea with Reimu's hair to make it have a red shine to it. I also changed up Reimu's outfit so it isn't just a blob of red. I like it a lot when Reimu's skirt and outfit is segmented into different layers, so I wanted to incorporate that.

I tried to draw their hands differently as well, but IDK how noticeable that is. Also, I am super happy with how the side profiles for the two of them turned out, I used to struggle a lot with how to make the side profile of a character actually look like the character, so I'm really happy that they actually look like themselves.

Also added in the tree and rocks in the background as an homage to Zanmu's character art in Touhou 19, just because I was getting kinda stumped on what to do with the background lol.

In terms of a story idea with Reimu and Zanmu, idk why but the potential plotline of Zanmu wanting to ascend to godhood is so fascinating to me. Like, it is very possible that if she just convinced everyone she was a god (which would be very easy for her to do), she would become one in a heartbeat. Also, if she were to become a god, with her ability to return stuff to nothing, could she hypothetically get similar abilities to (Jojo Part 5 spoiler btw) GER? Like, idk about the death timeloop stuff, but the concept has been haunting me every night as I have been trying to find loopholes in GER's ability for a while now ( for no reason in particular). Back to the main topic, I imagine that she would probably tell Reimu that if she were to become a god she would take over the Hakurei shrine since the god there might as well be dead, and Reimu just says to her, "Over my dead body bitch." Like, I have no idea how to summarize their dynamic but like, it's the type of hero-villain dynamic where the phrase "We're not so different, you and I" would definitely be a phrase said during a fight. I think that if another IN style game were to release, Reimu and Zanmu would be in a team together. They could also have an interesting mentor and pupil kind of dynamic. Can you tell that Zanmu has been charging my mind rent these part few months? Like, instead of living in my head rent free, she kinda just uno reversed the whole situation and now she's the one charging me rent. What happens if I get evicted from my own brain? Actually, scratch that, I don't think I wanna know.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 6 🕸 Story A

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: this is Peter's side of the story.

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Um...” you drone dumbly at Peter. “I don’t know.” 

He stares back at you. He looks scared, “you don’t know?” 

“I’m sorry, I...” the raucous party rumbles on inside the walls. “I can’t think here.” 

“Hey, let me grab my jacket, we can talk outside,” he offers. “Wait, where’s your coat? You can’t go out like that?” 

You look down and realise you left your jacket inside. In fact, he took it. You shrug and he holds up a finger.  

“Please, just give me a chance.” 

You nod. What else can you do? He rushes back through the door and you turn away. You try to ignore the couple sloppily lapping at each other’s mouths. 

You don’t know what to think. You can barely cling to a coherent thought. Bucky’s warning echo in your head. Isn’t this proof? There are other girls, not just you. Yet, you keep asking yourself why you care about them. Peter asked you to be his lab partner, not his girlfriend. 

In fact, no one has ever asked you to be their girlfriend. Why would they? You’re quiet and boring. You shrink back against the wall and peer down at the floor. You should just tell Peter to go back to MJ. 

He appears and your resolve rots away. He only has his coat. “Hey, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find your coat. I looked all over. The green one right? With the orange buttons? I don’t know what happened but take mine.” 

He holds you his jacket, “Oh, it’s fine. I can’t--” 

“Now what kinda jerk would I be if I let you go cold?” He insists. “I’ll be fine. Really. I like the cold.” 

You blink and take the jacket. You don’t like arguing. You already feel bad enough after barging in on him and MJ. You can’t stop thinking of it. God. It feels so... wrong. 

He walks you down the hall. You’re both silent. You keep distance between you as you get to the elevator and ride it without saying a word. You go out into the lobby and as you get to the front door, you grab the front of his jacket and start to push it off. 

“Please, keep your coat. I should go home--” 

“Just hear me out, okay?” He begs and stops you from taking off the coat. “Please.” 

You face him and dip your chin, “okay.” 

He sighs. You peek up from under your eyelids. He smiles nervously, cheeks pinkening, and he shifts his weight on his feet. He clears his throat. 

“Look, I’m an idiot. I went into that room with MJ. I know how she is. I’m not going to play victim here. All I can say is it won’t happen again.” His jaw ticks, “I’m a dummy. I was... I was so nervous about talking to you. I know you hate parties but I thought if I was drinking I could just tell you how I feel. And of course, it just made me stupid.” 

Your mouth falls open. He can’t be saying what you think he is. Right?

Before you can respond, the door to the lobby opens and you look over as MJ struts out. Her long legs are toned in her heels and her short leather skirt. Her hair is perfect and her makeup brings out her natural colouring. She’s perfect and you’re wearing a pleated skirt. 

You look at Peter again and deflate. 

“Peter,” MJ approaches, “why’d you run off?” 

“MJ,” he sighs, “I told you--” 

“What did you tell me before you had my tongue down your throat?” She smirks. 

“Stop,” he snips. “I said no.” 

“But you didn’t stop me,” she scoffs. “And now what? You’re scurrying around with her? Really? Her?” 

“Don’t be mean,” Peter steps between you and her, as if he’s trying to hide you. 

“You call it mean, I call it honesty,” she chirps back. 

“Get out of here. You weren’t even invited,” he snarls as he reaches back and latches onto your wrist. 

“When did you turn into such a fucking loser?” She snips and shoves him.  

He collides with you but takes most of the impact. She stomps out in her clunky heels as you turn to watch her. She doesn’t look back. 

Slowly, you spin back to Peter, “are you alright?” 

“Yeah, fine,” his shoulders droop. “Look, I get it. I screwed up. I don’t want to ruin the rest of your night. I already dragged you here. Just, take my coat, get home safe. Be done with me.” 

His eyes twinkle wetly and his nose twitches. He looks like he could cry. As small as you are, he seems even smaller in that moment. 

“You didn’t let me answer,” you say. 

His forehead lines in confusion and his lips open wordlessly. 

“I... I’m surprised is all. It’s been a weird night and...” You sway and fold your hands. “I’m kind of a mess myself. I really don’t do well in crowds. I know you know that.” You try to smile. “And I know it’s lame but... I really do try and...” you look away and your cheeks heat up. “I don’t think I would if I didn’t like you too.” 

Another suffocating silence sucks the air out of the room. You fidget and stare at your boots. You wince as Peter steps closer. He surprises you as he pulls the jacket closed and does up the zipper. As the tab reaches the top, he taps your chin and you look up at him shyly. 

“Can I walk you home?” He asks as he brushes his hand down the sleeve and tickles your fingers. 

A full smile breaks through and you nod giddily, “sure.” You grab onto his hand, vibrating in vibrant excitement. Can he feel you shaking? 

“You still cold?” He asks as he tugs you towards the door. You shake your head but as you step outside, he puts his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close. He walks you down the pavement as a blistering wind blows around you. “Gotta keep my girl warm, huh?” 

“Your... girl?” You squeak. 

He hums and squeezes you tight, “all mine.” 

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico has been watching him intensely for the last twenty minutes.

Will has been letting him.

Nico watches him a lot, actually. While he heals, if he’s tagged along to the infirmary; while he plays volleyball or basketball with his siblings. When they’re sat in Nico’s cabin, curled next to each other on his bed, Will reading, Nico, supposedly, playing on his DS. While Will trains, especially, although it doesn’t take long watching that clusterfuck for him to get up and come help out.

(“You are not this bad at swordfighting, William.”

“No clue what you’re talking about, darlin’. It’s just not my strength!”

“You are holding the sword backwards, William.”

“Oh, am I?”

“I am going to kill you, William.”)

Will doesn’t mind. He watches him, too. It’s hard not to.

“I thought you said you don’t have any musical talents.”

Will shrugs, whistling the last notes of the melody. A quick one that Michael taught him, years ago — something to ease nerves, to calm the mind. “It’s just an extension of my sonic powers, really.”

Nico stares like he knows the exact day you’re gonna die. Will knows a lot of people find this unsettling. He doesn’t get it. He relishes the attention, if anything; the scrutiny. One hundred percent of Nico’s intensity on him is — intoxicating.

“Sounds pretty musical to me.”

Will grins at him, cheeks aching, stomach flipping. Nico’s expression doesn’t change; eyebrows narrowed, mouth twisted into a thoughtful scowl. Evaluating every shift in Will’s expression. He squints one eye, when he’s focused. Will aches to brush his thumb under it.

“Do you know how to whistle, Nico?”

Nico’s dark eyes flip up to meet his. Will’s breath hitches — there are a thousand layers of Earth in those eyes. Like the crackling fractals of Pangea; eyes browner than earth, darker than black dirt. Deeper than the burnt sepia of the planet’s mantle. Two round abysses that Will has been falling down for half his life; air billowing around him, slowing his descent.

Gods, Nico is gorgeous.

“I — think so.”

His endless eyes squint, slightly-freckled nose wrinkling as he focuses on the purse of his lips. He glances down at them like that’ll somehow help, going goofy and cross-eyed. Will’s soul melts like a grape popsicle on a scorching summer day. His impulse melts away with it. He darts in close and pecks Nico’s pursed lips, pulling away just as fast. Those crossed-eyes blow open wide, pupils shrinking, and the air comes out of his lungs in a quiet, punched-out whoosh. Nowhere sharp enough for a whistle.

“…Wow.”

Will smiles sheepishly, rocking back on his heels.

“Um. Sorry?”

Nico’s thin fingers come up and brush the swell of his lips.

“Solace, you are the corniest motherfucker on the planet, you know that?”

Ducking his head to hide his laughter, Will nods.

“I know.”

“‘Can you whistle’, he says.” Nico scoffs. “Get over here.”

“Why?” Will asks cheekily. “Gonna ask me to show you?”

“Shut up.”

Nico grabs the back of his neck and yanks him down. Will can feel the press of his teeth, this time, the warmth of his skin now that he’s not pulling quickly away. He tastes good, too, like the citrusy chapstick he’s always got on.

He kisses as intensely as he stares.

Will finds he doesn’t mind that, either.

———

based off this tweet

[vroombeams]

How do you feel about size kink and sargebon? I recently saw a couple pics of them and I never realised how much smaller Logan is to Alex.

oh hugely enthusiastic. advocate for it, even. my god

you're so right like!! logan looks reasonably big in certain contexts (next to oscar!) but compared to alex... alex is so tall to begin with and he's actually like quite broad too? logan also comes off to me like one of those people who Wants to feel smaller sometimes you know. in bed or whatever having one of those moments where he's huddling into himself to make himself look/feel smaller or more delicate. and i think he would especially lean into this with alex. i'm vibrating over this photo, relevantly

not at all what you asked but this to me also could tie into some feminization?? maybe a little bit of crossdressing or lingerie, like, logan who at least initially could be perceived as pretty fratty or a bro but is actually kind of?? soft spoken? sweet? there is the reaching for masculinity that i think is just so flavourful when that masculinity is pulled out of reach and instead replaced with like. little scraps of lace or silk. lmao

anyway to the original point like!! if you look at them esp in that pic up there YEAH it's so apparent the difference in size and also how alex holds himself in this very casual way, very absently leonine while logan is sort of curling into himself, shrinking a bit, this vibe of wanting to fit into whatever space alex might make for him

anyway i feel crazy about them always thank you for bringing logan concepts to my inbox even in these unprecedented times of no-logan-on-the-grid 😭