#the details make it even weirder

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

if any of these apply, im begging you, please reblog and tell me the tags about how you/your family did it. i think it would be very funny.

honestly reblog and tell any bizarre family stories youve got in the tags. it would be good enrichment for all of us.

also if you want more details about these, send me an ask, im physically incapable of shutting up

[chloesimaginationthings]

Ballora from FNAF sister location is quirky at night

[notbecauseofvictories]

just came off my shift as an election judge and I honestly think we should make people do this. I support abolishing the draft, and I even think that jury duty can get complicated, but everyone in the country should be forced to learn about election procedure, then have to sit around for 14 hours and practice being customer service for democracy. I think that would fix us.

[howtodisappearcompletelyand]

20/10 stars little guy

[okcoolthanks]

Song is Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo (:

Also although it like says it in the lyrics this isn’t ship art lmao

Also thx @lala-queen-lala for the concept art for Queen I could not have made this without it

[purinfelix]

yes Ollie fics I BEGGG🙏🏻🙏🏻

sweet as sugar ⟡ ݁₊ . - ollie bearman

summary: it isn't everyday you see a classmate shopping at the grocery store you work at, especially not when he's buying the most expensive ingredients possible. w/c: 3.4k

a/n: your wish is my command !!! been binging the bear necessities vlogs so i felt verrrryyy inspired for this one (also bc i recently started a second job as a checkout chick HAHA)

Working at a grocery store was far from glamorous - but given that it was close to your university, you figured it was definitely far from the worst part-time job you could've taken up. In between stocking shelves and dealing with rude customers, it hadn't been too bad, and that was the reason you had stayed for over a year.

In that time, you had seen your fair share of things. Given that the dorms were so close by, it wasn't uncommon for you to recognise people from class. Often they were polite enough to start up some small talk or ignore you completely, leaving with several bags of instant ramen and frozen garlic bread, more than enough to last them the week.

But this, this was new.

"Oh, hi," he lets out, polite and a little shy as he piles his groceries onto your conveyer belt.

"Hey," you let out, a little drawn out to show your confusion at the multi-coloured produce headed towards you. You spot a couple radishes, a whole head of cabbage and several jars of spice amongst everything else. "Do you have your own bags?"

"Oh, yeah," he mumbles, reaching into his back pocket and producing several reusable bags, most of them from your grocery store chain - you find it a little cute, though you don't say anything.

"I think I've seen you around, you know," he says quickly, refusing to acknowledge the elephant in the room as he positions the bags. You drag your focus away from the items you're scanning and study his face instead - he's tall but boyish, and his eyes are round and innocent as he looks at you.

"Right, Professor Royce's class, stats right?"

His expression lights up, almost out of relief at you not asking about the groceries. "Yeah! It's tough, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and he marks really strict as well, a friend of mine got a quarter mark taken off because her power wasn't written high enough."

"Jeez, that's rough," he laughs, and his eyes flicker between yours and your hands as you bag the last of his things.

"Your total will be $75.80," you announce, pulling a face to show that you don't envy how much he's going to have to pay - but to your surprise, his expression doesn't falter as he reaches for his wallet, pulls out his credit card and taps it without another word.

"Thanks, see you around," he smiles, as he takes his several bags with ease and leaves, the automatic doors closing behind him. You find yourself watching him, gaze lingering as his lean figure grows smaller and smaller in the direction of the dorms. What could he possibly be using that kind of food for, how many people was he planning on feeding - and most importantly, what sort of dorm fridge would fit all that?

You hear an annoyed grunt from in front of you as you're once reminded of your job, turning to face a stern-looking woman. "Sorry ma'am," you let out, beginning to scan her items - though your mind doesn't leave him, not for a while.

Given how much he had bought, you didn't think you'd run into your classmate at your job for a while. To your surprise though, it's less than a week until you see him again, and for about a month he continues showing up weekly - and as fate would have it, always when you were on shift and at your register.

What's even weirder though, is the fact that the two of you barely make it beyond awkward small talk about the singular class you share in common or the weather lately. Still, you manage to glean some information - his name (Ollie), his major (marketing) amongst other, smaller, details like the fact that he normally comes in the mornings to get the freshly baked loaves of bread, or that he has an unusually large collection of reusable grocery bags.

For the most part, you don't mind, working at a grocery store register has made you vulnerable to over a year of awkward conversations. What seems to actually get to you though, is the gnawing curiosity of just what on earth he could be using all this for because, at the rate you see him, he can't be the only one eating it.

You're busy pondering this thought, mindlessly stocking shelves mere minutes before closing one night - until you notice a familiarly lanky figure creep up behind you.

"Oh!" you gasp out in surprise, but when you spot the full grocery basket in his hand you dart quickly behind the register to help him. For a minute it seems like your opportunity to get to the bottom of this mystery has reared its head.

However, from the awkward smile he gives you in greeting and the way he nervously shoves his hands in his pockets while he scoots up to your register - you're inclined to just mind your own business and leave the poor boy alone. That is until you break eye contact with him and turn to the items now moving towards you.

He seems to have replaced his normal fresh produce and meat for dessert ingredients, and you watch as several bars of dark chocolate - the most expensive brand your store carries, at that - cartons of eggs and sacks of flour make their way towards you.

"Okay Ollie I'm sorry, but I have to ask," you hold your hands out as you preface your question, "What on earth do you do with all this stuff?"

"Oh, I mean, a boy's gotta eat right?" He laughs shyly, causing you to furrow your brows to show your doubt.

"I don't mean to judge but, surely that's a lie."

He looks almost disappointed at the fact that you don't believe his obviously made-up excuse, as he looks down at his feet to avoid eye contact.

“Well, you see,” he starts, and you can hear the squeaking sound of his sneakers against the store floor. “It’s sort of embarrassing.” 

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad,” you reply, waiting for him to hit you with it, only to be met with a moment of silence as the two of you just stand there, even the conveyor belt refusing to move. 

“What, you cooking for a roster of girls every night?” You joke, desperate to diffuse the suffocating silence. 

“Wh- no!” he replies immediately, hands springing up in defence, causing you to let out a low laugh. 

“Well?” 

He takes a step closer to the register, looking around as if to make sure no one will eavesdrop - despite the two of you being the only ones in the store - before whispering to you. “I’m an influencer, like, a cooking influencer. 

You hear yourself let out a shocked laugh, and Ollie’s eyes widen in response as his cheeks burn up. 

“Sorry, that sounded mean, but that’s actually really cool!” you blurt out. 

“Oh,” he laughs in relief, “I mean it’s not that cool.” He shuffles around awkwardly to help you bag his groceries, though you’re pretty sure he’s just eager to avoid eye contact. 

“Home come I’ve never heard of you before?” 

“Well, I keep it anonymous,” he sighs, “not many people in real life know.” 

“Wow, you’re a proper Peter Parker.” 

“Yeah, if his superpower was stuffing up puff pastry for the third time.” 

“$32,” you read out his total, pausing before following up, “you know, I don’t know if I completely believe you.” 

“Wh- why would I lie?” he asks as he taps his card. 

“I don’t know, to hide the fact that you’re actually cooking for a never ending rotation of girlfriends.” 

“Oh please, I wish that was the case,” you quirk your eyebrow at his response, showing just how much you’re struggling to believe him. As he loops his arms through the several grocery bags, he catches sight of your expression. 

“Wh- look me up then!” 

“Alright, what’s your username,” you say, whipping out your phone. 

He seems to regret his words, his voice immediately shrinking to a shy tone, “promise you won’t make fun of it.” 

“Just tell me Ollie.” 

“It’s, @ bear in the kitchen.” 

You have to fold your lips together to stop yourself from letting out a laugh as you type the user into your search bar. However, once it pops up your eyes widen in shock instantly.

“Ten thousand followers? Ollie, holy shit!” He lets out a little chuckle as you continue to scroll through his posts. “God this stuff looks amazing.” 

“Alright, just don’t tell anyone about it okay? I don’t need this spreading around,” he sighs nervously. 

Lowering your phone, you feel an idea coming to you, “well what’s in it for me?” 

Once again, you watch his brows rise in shock as he chews on his bottom lip, thinking. You’re about to break the silence to tell him you’re only kidding, and that of course you wouldn’t tell anyone and that it’s totally f-

“What time do you get off?” 

“Wh- in about five minutes?” 

“Do you want to come watch?” 

“Watch what?” 

“Me cook, duh,” he says, making it seem like you’re the one being crazy here. 

“Huh?” 

“I live in the dorms so it isn’t too far and you could even try some of it if you want, unless you’ve got something on after this that is.” 

“I mean, not really.” 

“Great, then, help me with these will you?” 

So that’s how you ended up closing up a little earlier, and then helping your classmate Ollie - who a couple weeks ago had been little more than a stranger - carry his ingredients back to his dorm. If you had told anyone that, they probably would’ve called you crazy, and you would’ve agreed. But still, no matter how many times you tried to wake yourself up from this strange dream, you were still there - closing the store, in the elevator with him, even watching as he struggled to use his keys to open his dorm. 

“I got lucky with the dorm lottery this year,” he explained as he finally managed to get the door unlocked, “I think it’s supposed to be for special accomodation students but no one took it so, I figured I would.” 

“Woah,” was all you could say as he ushered you in and shut the door quickly behind you. And woah was correct, given that his 'room' was the size of a small apartment, and much much bigger than any of the other shoeboxes most students got. Aside from the usual bed and desk, he also had his own small lounge room and bathroom - and of course, a kitchenette, which you recognised from the background of his videos. "Lucky is an understatement."

All he does is let out a low laugh in response as he lifts the grocery bags onto the counter, prompting you to do the same. "Do you want my help?" you ask.

"No, I mean you're my guest if anything, so you can just pull up a chair and watch," he offers you a warm smile before turning to unload the bags, stuffing condiments into cupboards and tossing things into the fridge. You do as he says, finding yourself a stool and scooting it over to the counter so you can watch him.

You're amazed, obviously by the fact that someone as unexpected as a boy from your statistics class has a cooking page, but more so by the nature of his movements. After setting up his phone on a small tripod and clicking record, he falls into a rhythm that's mesmerisingly beautiful to watch. Every grab of a bowl or flick of his wrist as he whisks this and stirs that, like a conductor bringing together a symphony.

You don't realise how long you've been silent until he looks up at you, almost as if to silently ask if you have any questions, all the while he's separating a couple egg yolks from their whites.

"So, what exactly are you making?"

"Mille-feuille," he responds.

"Milly- huh?"

He laughs softly at your attempt to mirror his pronunciation. "It's a French dessert, basically just puff pastry with some cream but it's a pain to make."

"So why are you making it?"

"Well, it's fun, I guess? It's nice to challenge myself to do things, even if it takes me a while, the satisfaction of mastering it is really like nothing else." He turns to you, a slight sparkle in his eye and you're taken aback by the pure passion in the way he talks.

"Wow, you really enjoy this, why are you studying at university then? Why not do this full-time as a chef or something?"

"Don't be silly, this is just like a hobby there's no way I could make it a job."

"Ten thousand people seem to say otherwise," you say, and as he pulls a couple things out of the oven and places them on the counter he turns to look at you with an expression that's equal parts confused and surprised. "Well, ten thousand people plus me."

He smiles earnestly, though you can tell you've made him a little shy by the way his cheeks are flushed. "Well, you haven't even tried it yet."

"You're right, how much longer?"

"Maybe another five minutes, why do you need to go?" His expression morphs into one of worry, almost as if he's pleading you not to leave.

"No," you laugh, "I'm fine to stay for as long as you want me to."

"Okay, good, I just," he says, searching for an excuse, "I just want you to taste it before you go."

"Right," you hum, looking around his dorm, or more his apartment complex. "If I had a space as big as this I'd probably throw a party every second night."

"Oh nah, parties aren't really my thing." You watch as he looks down shyly and for the first time, you notice the way the dim kitchen lights illuminate his soft brown curls.

You notice that the only thing separating the two of you is a couple inches of marble countertop and that this is the longest conversation you've had with him, ever. You notice, when his brown eyes rise to meet yours, that the bashful smile spread across his face makes your heart rate quicken a bit more - and for the couple of seconds you're able to hold eye contact with him, you're thinking about how oddly intimate this moment is.

A loud ringing sound brings you back to the current moment - the timer that Ollie set a couple minutes ago signalling that his dish is ready to plate. You straighten up on your stool, eyes darting around as the boy across from you hurries to take out a plate. You pull out your phone, just to have something to do with your hands, but as you do you hear a couple soft groans coming from Ollie's direction.

"Hey," you hear his timid tone call out to you, "could you help me?"

Hopping off of your stool, you pad your way over to where he's bent at an awkward angle, trying his best to hold a broken sheet of puff pastry together.

"Just put your hands where mine are," he instructs you, and you do as he says, allowing him to let out a sigh of relief as he reaches for a piping bag. As he does, you notice the phone camera pointed directly towards you.

"Won't I be in your shot?" you ask nervously.

"Don't worry, your face won't be in it and I can edit it out if you want," he brushes you off, clearly more concerned with the structural integrity of his dessert.

"Oh, right."

"Wait, just-" his voice is just above a whisper and before you realise what's happening you feel his warm touch on yours as he nudges your hands slightly into position. You try not to overthink the fact that his touch alone makes you feel so flustered that you almost drop the pastry. "Okay, hold still."

"Yes, chef," you joke in as serious a tone as you can, trying to alleviate the suddenly intimate tension between you two. You watch silently as he pipes a couple of dollops of custard onto the pastry then nudges you once more to let you know you can let go as he reaches for the last piece of pastry to place on top.

The two of you stand back, and you hear him let out a proud huff as he rests his hands on his hips. "Finally," he breathes, reaching into a drawer to retrieve a spoon.

As you watch him break apart the pastry he spent the last hour trying to perfect, you catch the tender smile he gives you and feel your heart warm at the fact that he seems so different to the awkward, shy boy you first served a couple weeks ago. The image of your classmate, who you only ever saw shuffling out of class as soon as possible, melts away as Ollie confidently scoops some of the custard onto the spoon.

You wait for him to bring it to his own lips, but instead watch it take a turn towards you, his eyes catching yours.

"Here," he smiles, "a payment for your help."

"Wh-" You're taken aback, partially by him not wanting to taste his own food first, but mostly by the fact that he seems to be insisting on feeding it to you. Obediently, you open your mouth and he feeds you the dessert, other hand cupping your chin to catch any crumbs that fall - and you can only hope he doesn't feel how hot your face gets when he does.

"Holy shit Ollie, that's delicious!" You exclaim, watching as his eyes survey your expression.

"Really? That's a relief then," he laughs, taking his own serving of the dessert, nodding thoughtfully as he tastes it. For the thousandth time that night, the two of you stand in silence, just looking at each other - though it's less awkward than you thought and more comfortable.

Until you see your phone on the countertop buzz awake and you catch sight of the time.

"Oh crap, it's past midnight!" you gasp, reaching for it and sending a text back to your roommate, who's probably wondering where you are.

"Do you need to get back?" Ollie asks, brows furrowed.

"Yes, I'm sorry, and thank you for all this it really was amazing-" you ramble out as you try your best to shove your feet into your shoes by the doorway. He seems a little lost by your sudden movements, dropping the spoon and padding his way over to you.

"Do you need me to walk you home?"

"No, no it's fine, I'm just in the next building and you should probably get to cleaning up all this anyways," you gesture to the small mess of used pans and bowls waiting for him in the kitchen behind.

"Right," you catch a tinge of disappointment in his tone, "well get home safe okay?"

"I will," you insist, letting out small grunts as you finally manage to get your second shoe on, "oh, and send me the video you post about this, I want to see my cameo!"

He laughs, "of course."

You're just about to reach for the doorknob and bid him farewell when you hear his voice pipe up again, a little less sure this time.

"Oh and hey, do you think you'd want to do this again?"

"Come over and watch you cook?" You're a little confused by his request since you were sure you had just been in his way all night.

"Yeah, I mean it's nice to have someone keep me company, and help me out when I need it," his hand rubs the back of his nape as he looks at the floor.

"Sure, I'd love to Ollie, you know where to find me anyways."

"Checkout number 4," he laughs, "goodnight."

"Goodnight Ollie," you respond with a smile and a wave before opening his dorm door and leaving.

It's only once you're out in the night air, frantically rushing from his building to yours - that you notice the smile hasn't left your face.

(and as a little something extra, a mockup of ollie's account :)) )

taglist: reply/send an ask to be added!

@multifan-idk @presleycaudle @hadesnumber1daughter @monbear38

[nightlark100]

Stiles sets up a betting board rather early on, figuring it'll be something that might help the betas bond a bit. It started off with a few silly things but the main category quickly became 'what is going to try and kill us next'. The name was changed after Derek expressed concerns over how cavalier Stiles was about dying and instead became 'what is going to put us in danger next'. The rules were simple:

Each of them contributed to a pool.

Each beta was given the opportunity to change their pick after something tried to kill them or once a month (if things were quiet)

Winner got the contents of the pool

If there was no clear winner or if there was more than one and they didn't want to split it, pack could make an argument for why their pick was the closest.

Scott put down 'Peter betraying the pack'

Peter in retaliation put down 'Argents being Argents'

Both refused to change it.

Stiles put down 'Dereks love life'

Erica put down 'Stiles losing his mind in a haze of caffeine after too many sleepless nights researching'. Boyd silently added his name against that pick as well.

The problem was Stiles seemed to always get it right. No matter what he wrote down each time, it usually happened in some way.

Derek's love life - a barista he'd been tentatively flirting with at the coffee shop turned out to be a succubus

Extreme cold (mocked by the others for being written down in the middle of a heatwave)- an abominable snowman popped up and set off a cold spell that even werewolf heat and Isaac's scarves couldn't ward off

Scott's cooking - After breaking some of Melissa's kitchenware while trying to make a romantic meal for Allison (the exact details of how remain a mystery, although Isaac was involved) and replacing it with a new set from a cute little shop that seemingly popped up out of nowhere, the pack quickly found out that there was a poltergeist attached.

The only time he didn't put anything down, was when he got possessed. And Peter argued that he technically still got it right since the only thing in his section was his name... Which was accurate in its own way (Stiles was not pleased by this logic and refused to talk to anyone for a long time)

He began to get gradually weirder and weirder with his picks, not even really trying to win after a while. He was a little confused and concerned by his strange predictions and hoped that eventually it would get too absurd to possibly come true.

Musical theatre - a siren showed up and almost lured Isaac into the swimming pool with her voice.

Killer Tomatoes - Lydia ended up nearly choking on her salad

Hummus - Jackson managed to ingest poisoned hummus and became practically feral.

Puppies - Stiles woke up one day to a very stressed Derek with an armful of his now tiny canine betas. Stiles didn't mind that one so much.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

Sup I’m back to feed you gremlins 

🏺⚔️💗Aphrodite Danny and Ares Phantom💗⚔️🏺

So if you’re been here long enough you’ll realize this as one of my first ever au and for some of my newer readers I’ll explain but before I do I just have to say Danny and Phantom are two very different people and now I can explain let’s go

After a few months after Danny being ‘Phantom’ Danny starts to feel… protective of himself???  Which is weird but ok it’s probably his imagination but over the course of a few weeks it gets weirder not bad weird but weird nonetheless like when he goes ghost it feels like he’s not really the one in control of his body and sometimes when the other ghosts get to rough with him he can hear a voice yell but not really being able to tell what its saying and Danny like Danny do is just kinda ignoring all this stuff because it feels nice..? Like being in a protective hug and knowing the person hugging you will kill for you if it makes you happy and all is well

and good until his parents see him transformed in to phantom they knock him out and bring him to their lab and after a few weeks jazz finds out what is happening ( Maddie and Jack told her that they had Danny go to something I didn’t really know what they would say ) And get him out of his restraints and turns on the portal or well try’s to because at that moment Maddie and Jack and a whole fight goes on well Danny is trying to get the portal working and Maddie unfortunately gets a good shot at Danny as he turns it on and causing him to get thrown in and it makes the portal ( that has enough energy to take out this universe ) and it does that exact thing it takes out Danny OG universe (✨ANGST✨ and not that Danny knows that right now ) considering Danny is knocked TF out again but this time it feels different like he unconsciously knows whatever is holding him will protect him with their whole core….

And Danny wakes up a few weeks later [ he really needs to stop passing out it’s starting to get annoying ] and looks around the room? Well it looks like a room it’s big and spacious it also looks a Greek temple bedroom with large marble pillars that indicate windows { you get the image} and now that Danny looks around he sees that his laying on a frankly to big bed and it has a large canopy with fabric as Danny looks around someone enters the room and leans against the wall and looks at Danny with a soft smile and as Danny looks in their direction he sees…Phantom but he looks different he’s wearing Greek style armor [and looking HOT in Danny’s eyes so he’s a blushing mess for a hot minute] and as he makes eye contact with Phantom it feels like he and Danny have known each other for as long as they’ve existed and a few shenanigans happen and would you look that that a couple who are deeply in love with each other.

And for what Danny and Phantom are they are the New Ancients of Love and Protection respectively {yes I’ve decided to change Danny to the Ancient of love}

And Now to what inspired this thing in the first place and that would be the God Games song it goes to hard anyway if you listened to it you can tell Athena has to convince the gods to let odysseus go and I thought “ what if I turned this into dc X dp and what tf is this??” Proceeds Down the rabbit hole that is pitch pearl and now you all have this word vomit I call a post and before I ramble even more let’s get to the DC part before this gets to long

Now for the DC part someone gets on the bad side of one of the Ancients and gets got and now the JL has to convince some of the Ancients you know like ( clockwork, frostbite, pandora etc) and of course Danny and phantom are there as the Aphrodite and ares part of the song. And that’s all I can think of the DC first the moment now on to the details of Danny and Phantom

For Danny I’m thinking something like this

Looking all majestic and shit ( also just imagine that his hair is black)

Also just a pic of phantom and Danny

They have the healthiest relationship you’ll ever see

And also if you want to make this as mom Danny you can have Dani and Dan as Phobos and Deimos just ima thought { forgot to add this in the beginning }

Anyway I hope you guys like this { P.S will add more if I feel like it} byeeee

[p0orbaby]

heyy, could you do something about reader being very good at giving head or something else but leah's pouting/ giving the cold shoulder bc reader's told her that she was inexperienced and all but leah's overthinking about where 🤨🤨🤨 did she learn all that and most importantly, with who

fluff pls

-

Leah is sulking, and she’s not doing a very good job of hiding it.

It starts in the morning. You wake up to her in the kitchen, nursing a coffee like it’s the last one on earth, her hair still a bit mussed from sleep. She doesn’t even look up when you say good morning.

“Alright?” you ask cautiously, leaning against the counter.

She grunts. A noncommittal, I’m-not-actually-alright-but-don’t-you-dare-ask grunt. Classic Leah.

You wait, watching as she takes a sip of coffee and sets the mug down with more force than is necessary.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing”

“Leah”

Her eyes flick to yours, guarded. “Nothing’s up,” she insists, the same way someone insists they’re not drunk while slurring their words.

This would usually be the part where you let it go, except she’s acting weird. Weirder than usual. Last night was… well, it was great. She’d practically purred under your touch, soft and pliant and whispering your name in a way that had you smug for hours after. So this? The frosty attitude? It doesn’t make sense.

“Did I… do something wrong?” you venture, crossing your arms.

“No”

“You sure?”

She huffs. “I said no, didn’t I?”

“Okay, well, you’re acting like I killed your dog”

Leah exhales sharply through her nose, her jaw tightening. She looks at the counter like it’s personally offended her, and then—finally—she cracks.

“Where did you learn that?” she blurts.

You blink. “Learn what?”

“That thing you did. Last night”

The memory of what you did last night comes back in vivid detail. You suppress a grin. “You’re going to have to be more specific”

Her cheeks flush, and it’s adorable, really, the way she fidgets like she doesn’t know where to put her hands. “You know what I’m talking about”

“Do I?”

“Stop,” she groans, dragging a hand down her face.

It takes everything in you not to laugh. “Okay, fine. What about it?”

Leah stares at you, her expression somewhere between suspicious and mildly horrified. “You said you didn’t have much experience”

“I don’t,” you reply, and it’s true. At least, it was true before her.

She squints. “You’re telling me you just figured that out?”

“Well, yeah.” You shrug. “I read things”

“You read things”

“Yeah”

Leah looks like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Her mouth opens and closes twice before she finally says, “What things? Where are you even finding—”

“Leah.” You cut her off, reaching for her hand. “Relax”

“I’m relaxed,” she says, unconvincingly.

“Are you?”

She hesitates. “…No”

There’s a beat of silence before you can’t hold it in anymore. You start laughing, loud and unrestrained, and Leah’s scowl deepens.

“This isn’t funny,” she mutters, though the corners of her mouth twitch.

“It’s a little funny”

“It’s not!”

“Leah, I swear, I’ve not got some secret past, alright?” you say, squeezing her hand. “It’s just… you. You make it easy”

The pink in her cheeks spreads, and for a second, she looks shy. Shy, Leah Williamson. It’s ridiculous.

“…Easy, huh?” she says finally, her voice softer.

“Yeah.” You lean in, brushing your lips against hers in a way that makes her exhale shakily. “Easy”

She kisses you back, her hands settling on your waist like they belong there. And just like that, the sulking is over. At least until next time.

[dhampling]

the gate girl!dadstarion, 1.5k

He knows vaguely where the building is - he’s sure he’s passed it on one of his late night jaunts - but you’re coming along too. He knows he’s prepared for this moment, down to the most minute detail.  - astarion is a school-gate dilf on his first pick-up adventure with you. wc: 1.5k a/n: dadstarion fridays! wooooo! hope you enjoy - love, dal x

“Come on. We’ll be late.”

Your hand meets his with a toothy grin.

Astarion teeters a little.

He knows vaguely where the building is - he’s sure he’s passed it on one of his late night jaunts - but you’re coming along too. 

He knows he’s prepared for this moment, down to the most minute detail. 

Weeks spent designing the overcoat now covering his clothes - almost feltish in texture, a deep blue with gentle golden threading. Brass buttons. The smallest red ribbon detailing in the seams. The fit is immaculate, despite the fact he had to take his own measurements. The gloves match beautifully, just as he’d intended.

Shoes polished within an inch of their lives. Shirt and trousers pressed to perfection. Hair neatly coiffed with assistance from your gentle hands.

He grimaces.

“She’s going to think I’m weird.”

“Is this for her, or you?’

He takes a moment. Examines both sides of his glove with a flex. Sniffs pointedly. 

‘She’s not going to think you’re any weirder than she already does. She’s your little freak.” You grab at his sides playfully and he shimmies around your clutches, breaking into a timid laugh. 

The dark skies of Deepwinter are primed to allow Astarion his first ever school pick-up. 

He hasn’t slept, you know that. Bag in hand holding the gift he’d spent the short day hidden away working on. Your matching scarves around your necks. The biting chill beyond the threshold of your hearth.  

Eyes round in a contemplative lax as his hand rests atop the door handle. 

“I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

Your eyes roll fondly into your skull.

“Yes. Now, get moving.” 

It takes you enclosing your hand in his for the door to open, immediately facing a brutal fracas of ice-cold winds lapping at your face. 

“How in any realm is a child expected to walk home in this? Ridiculous!” He shuffles from foot to foot as he chunters while you lock the door and pocket the key, looking up to the stars.

“With a coat. And gloves. And…’

You point to the bag in his hand as you interlink your arms.

‘A scarf.’

Astarion gives a small smile, pressing a chaste kiss to your head.

‘Come on, now. We might get there in time to see her out the door.”

-

The walk there isn’t the leisurely gander Astarion had dreamt of when he’d thought of this moment. 

In his head it was always late summer. Sunblushed.

And yet as you turn your head to him in your giddy half-canter; cheeks flush and breath clouding the space around your perfect head, he can’t believe he ever imagined it any other way.

The stars overhead are familiar as they always have been. The slightest slippy tread of frost on the cobble. Windows around you lit with candles and the loud taverns you pass en-route seem well hunkered-down.

He finds himself pulling you closer with each corner turned, stumbling to keep with your gait.

And then, there it is.

A huddle of parents waiting out in the cold, hands rubbing together; a low hum of chatter. School gates still closed. When you greet some of them with familiarity - one or two even getting a hug as you make your way to your preferred circle - and introduce him as your husband, his heart swells. 

He didn’t realise you were friends with these people. That these fellow parents could be people to have anything in common with in the first place. Astarion is hardly the enigma he used to be within the city walls and they know of him. They know you’re with him.

But none have ever seen him in the flesh.

There’s a minute where he ponders what they think of him. How you’d described him, how they may have looked at your daughter under the orange gloaming light of Leaffall and wondered which features of hers came first from him as opposed to you. How they’d pieced him together in their minds.

He feels a little out of place as you chatter - hyper aware of each stolen glance in his direction. The whites of new eyes flickering in the darkness. 

It isn’t often he meets new people anymore. Even his client roster is exclusive. 

“Why would I tell you how good-looking he is when he isn’t even here to hear it?”

He tunes back in. They all look, you included.

“Hm?”

“Marta-’ 

A faux accusatory glance on your face as you look over to the human who - Astarion presumes - is Marta. 

‘Asked why I hadn’t told the group just how attractive you are.”

The way the most blinding smile breaks over your ruddied cheeks. He melts behind a scoff.

“Actually darling, Marta has a point. I’m hurt, frankly.”

Gods. They’re all laughing. Your gaggle of school-gate friends and he has them laughing.

“No, it’s just dark. See him by light. Then you’ll change your minds.”

You huddle closer despite the brazen lie and the group laughs away. He throws in a small chuckle for good measure and presses a kiss to your head once more.

They’re all relatively harmless, he decides.

What do school gate friends do? Why have you never invited them over for wine or something? 

“I mean - Astarion, what do you think?”

“Hm?”

“They’re showing a rather keen interest to come over one evening for dinner. Inconspicuous, I’m sure.” 

He looks around warily. Can they read his mind? Is someone here a weird school gate mind reader freak? What the fuck?

Your eyes narrow at Marta in jest.

Oh.

If you’re even showing the slightest hint at wanting the doting husband, the doting husband he will give you. Freely and willingly. Far too easily. Naturally.

“Oh! Whatever you want, my love. Anything.”

Astarion takes your head in his hands and brings you close for a warm kiss, eyes softening as he holds you in place. A gentle smile against the harsh wind.  

“What’s in the bag?” Another asks in a jarring fettle. Your head whips round. He answers softly. 

“I- I made the little one a scarf.” 

A coo arises from those huddled around the two of you. 

“He’s a tailor. A good one, too. Really good.” 

You nod with a smile, looking at him. You’re mid-cycle and the idea of your daughter spotting him with those big eyes makes you a bit weak.

A saccharine voice from somewhere in the mix - “He’s immaculate, honey. I’m a little jealous?” 

If he can blush, Astarion feels one coming on. This feels staged. 

“He can’t take his shoes off without kicking them up the wall. Or catch spiders.”

-

As you resume your quiet chatter amongst the group, Astarion catches the door open in the near distance and a soft amber glow pouring from it from the corner of his eye.

It’s a trance. He looks over the heads obscuring his view, the tips of his toes touching the ends of his pristine shoes. 

And there she is.

Absolutely perfect. Small, searching the crowd for the parent she knows will be here.

Then she sees him.

It’s not difficult from afar, even in the dark - she recognises the shock of white hair anywhere - and the look of sheer confusion painted on her face shifts to unfettered joy in seconds.

Gods. She’s running. Tiny legs, bag flailing in her hand. Shouting-

“DADDY!”

As she hurtles towards him, he realises he’s never seen her run like this. She can’t run like this in the house. It’d be enough to make him sad if he weren’t so wholly elated.

He crouches just in time for her to barrel into his open arms.

The way he cups the back of her head is as if he hasn’t seen her in years, spinning her as he stands and holds her at his hip. She’s babbling something wicked and all of it sounds like utter nonsense and he’s so besotted it doesn’t even matter.

His little girl, out in the world. Being a person. 

And it’s him that she chooses to run to. 

“Charming! Hello love!” You shuffle closer and plant a large kiss on the back of her head, taking the bags from her hand and hoisting them up over your back in a routine twirl.

You take Astarion’s hint of a glance toward his bag and roll your eyes fondly, feeling for the scarf and slipping it back into his hand.

“My little darling! Hello! I have something for you - close your eyes.”

He haphazardly wraps the scarf around her neck with one hand as she bristles against his hip, wiggling her shoulders in some impromptu happy dance.

“Look now! You match us!” He exclaims. 

She opens her eyes and squeals with glee you haven’t seen at the school gate before, ever.

And true to his word, the scarf wholly matches both of yours. Embroidered with small golden stars on navy fabric. Her name in some immaculate loopy hand. Far too big for her at present, but warm on this coldest of evenings.

“I love it daddy. I want another one.” She nods acutely and smatters his face in small kisses. 

As you look to Astarion, he raises both brows in amusement at her request. She tucks her head in under his chin.

“Come along now. Let’s get you warm by the fire.”

✦

[freakinator]

just gonna put what i said in the comments lol

again, if you find her dream meaningful then irdc, ppl find different meaning in different things and it seems like for you this one particularly does while for me it doesnt

if youre trying to get other ppl to find it meaningful as well then go gush about it and make analysis and various posts about it in your own blog. but i will not be one of them due to, as stated, my personal experience

(also ik theres no way you could have known this but its generally not a good idea to tell me, a schizospec person who is neurologically inclined towards magical thinking and conspiracy theorizing, to just trust in dreams like that just cause it was proven right later on -- especially cause it was proven right later on)

and the reason i kept saying scam flame is simple: i forgor, this shit was ages ago and the scam got interrupted by focus revealing themselves before it got the chance to make any particularly huge impact to the server so any long-lasting impact it could have had essentially fizzled away and along with it my memory on the specific details

knowing how the server works isnt a matter of smartness its a matter of experience, you can make all the assumptions you want about lifesteal as a server but you can never really tell how it would go for you until youre actually on it 😭

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 7

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6

Robin’s been keeping her eyes peeled, and things have only gotten weirder.

Chrissy and Steve are still tied at the hip, still holding hands sometimes in the halls, she’s still wearing his letterman jacket any chance she gets. It all screams perfect textbook couple destined to win prom king and queen in a few months and pop out boring babies with glorious hair a few years later.

Except, she’s seen Chrissy leave two more notes in Eddie’s locker, has seen her and Steve pick up random books out of the library and pull envelopes out of them. She’d think the pair were pulling some sort of horrible prank on Eddie, if Chrissy wasn’t so goddamn nice.

And she’s seen Steve staring down the other boy, more caught in Eddie’s pull then even Chrissy is. It’s like he’s trying to melt Eddie’s eyeballs straight out of his skull with the force of his gaze. For his part, Eddie never even seems to notice.

That’s not even mentioning whatever the hell had happened in the cafeteria last week when Eddie had kissed Chrissy’s hand, and then Steve had whisked her away before Jason could start some sort of pissing contest.

Even the band nerds were all atwitter with that development.

And then there’s the other guy: Jeff.

Before this whole cluster of a situation, she hadn’t known Jeff from Adam, but now he’s everywhere. It feels like every other day now he’s climbing into Chrissy’s passenger seat and they’re speeding away, not a Steve Harrington or Eddie Munson in sight.

Or they’re in the library doing the same mail pick-up that Chrissy and Steve do together. Once, Robin had even seen Jeff by her side as she’d dropped a note into Eddie’s locker, which might be the wildest part of the whole situation; Robin had been under the impression that he and Eddie were friends.

There’s some benefits to being invisible: no one notices her.

So, she’s got all these building blocks to the juiciest gossip in Hawkins High for probably decades, but, no matter how she stacks them together, she can’t make them into a picture she understands.

All she knows is this: Steve Harrington is up to something shady.

Robin’s got her eyes open and a mission of the heart. She’ll protect Chrissy with all she has, and if Steve gets caught in the crossfire? That’s fine with her.

*** 

Chrissy’s still all over Harrington. He doesn’t get it, can’t comprehend why someone who leaves him such lovely, lovely notes has stuck herself to that douche’s side.

Eddie doesn’t get it.

Is it the status bump? No, can’t be, even Eddie knows the guy’s fallen a few pegs down the ladder since whatever the hell had happened with Wheeler last year.

Maybe it’s the looks? He’s got that swoopy hair all the girls fawn over, and the features to back it up. But Chrissy’s never struck him as that shallow, no matter how hot the guy is.

Is it the money, the car, the nice clothes? What does Steve Harrington have that Eddie doesn’t?

Is it the way he leans up against lockers, smiling at every girl in his sight like they’re his whole world? The way he tucks a lock of hair behind their ears, eyes smoldering, touch gentle? Steve goddamn Harrington with his jockish good looks and sweeping charms. 

He just—doesn’t get it.

He also doesn’t get why he hasn’t received a note in his locker for a couple days now, not since Eddie’d come up to her table in the cafeteria and kissed her hand.

Her nails had been painted a perfect pink, and when Eddie looked away to stare Harrington down, he’d noticed the guy had nail polish on, too: a bright yellow that would have suited him if it wasn’t chipped to hell.

It was such a small, incongruous detail, but it niggles at Eddie late into the night. It doesn’t fit with who Eddie knows Harrington to be. 

It didn’t fit, and he’s tired of nothing fitting together the way it should, so he’s been avoiding Harrington like the plague.

So, when he catches Chrissy in a rare moment where Steve’s not loitering in her periphery, he approaches again, hands raised like, see here, I’m harmless!

She smiles at him, white teeth damn-near glinting where they peek out from behind her lips. Eddie’s reciting sonnets in his head.

“Miss Cunningham,” he says, bending over at the waist and bowing low as she laughs at him. “Would you give this lowly Dungeon Master the honor, nay the privilege, of accompanying him on his quest this Thursday?”

Chrissy’s head’s tilted to the side like an inquisitive dog as she asks, “in plain English?”

He bounces closer, pleased to have even gotten his foot in the door. “My Dungeons and Dragons club is starting a new campaign tomorrow,” he says. “Want to come play?” When she purses her lips instead of answering, he scrambles to continue. “Or even just watch?”

Chrissy’s lips are still pursed, but she’s nodding slowly, like she’s thinking about saying yes. “That might be fine,” she replies. “Where should I meet you?”

And that’s how he finds himself with Chrissy Cunningham sitting in at the next Hellfire session. Gareth’s awkward because he always is when there’s a pretty girl in his vicinity, but Jeff smiles and chats with her like they’re old friends. Doug doesn’t seem to care one way or another, too focused on getting the newest campaign started to care about an interloper.

It goes off without a hitch, Chrissy’s presence blending into the background. He forgets her entirely until the end of the session when she starts slinging questions at them, and Jeff starts patiently explaining what a modifier is, and how they know which dice to roll as Eddie packs up his supplies. 

He’s got grand ideas about taking Chrissy home, had even cleaned out his van for it, but Chrissy was always destined to pop his ego.

“That was great, Eddie!” Chrissy cuts in, barely waiting for the party to finish celebrating to speak. “But, I’m already late to meet Steve, so I’ve got to go.”

“Uh,” Eddie says, staring at her retreating back, “okay.”

She turns back around right before she’s through the drama room door, still smiling as she calls, “see you guys next week!”

She’s going to see Harrington, the bane of Eddie’s current existence, but she did say it was great. No, she’d said Eddie was great.

Truly a mixed bag.

Eddie takes his time wrangling the boys out of the room and into his van, determined to hold onto the high of Chrissy Cunningham watching him DM—no way would he let Harrington of all people ruin his night.

*** 

She damn-near runs out of the drama room, lie leaving a bitter taste on her tongue—she’s not late to meet Steve, isn’t planning to see him at all.

It’s just, she knows what that gleam in a boy’s eyes means; Eddie was about to do something stupid. Ask her out, or try to flirt, or do something else both embarrassing and heart-crushing for Steve.

So, she’d done what she’s best at in uncomfortable situations: she’d lied.

Now, she’s just gotta get out of the school before anyone can call her on it.

The school’s eerily empty, the fluorescent lights only on in patchy segments, luring all the lingering students into the poorly-lit parking lot where Chrissy’s car waits. She just wants to get into her bed and wait until she can debrief with Steve in the morning.

She’s just twisted the key in the lock and begun pulling it open when a hand reaches past her and slams it closed. Chrissy jumps, fear coiling through her stomach and rapidly churning into anger. She turns, back to her car, ready to curse out Eddie or one of his other club members, but the words die unsaid in her throat.

It’s not Eddie; it’s Jason. His hand’s still slapped onto her door, keeping it closed, and in the dim light of the parking lot, his eyes are almost glowing. She wants to take a step back, but he’s effectively boxed her into the side of her own car.

“Are you serious, Chris?” he asks. The nickname sounds wrong in his mouth, all toxic and chopped up. Not at all like when Steve says it. “You really are hanging out with freaks now?”

“Jason, I—” Chrissy starts, hating the way her voice trembles.

“Are you sleeping with that freak now, too?” he demands, crowding farther into her space. “Harrington was one thing, but Munson?”

He says Eddie’s name like it’s a curse. She’s scared, still, but suddenly she’s furious that she wasted years of her life with this douche, that she’s still wasting time being afraid of him.

“He’s better than you’ll ever be,” she snarls, unsure if she means Steve or Eddie. It doesn’t matter, it’s true for both.

Without wasting another word on the jackass who’s made it his mission in life to make her feel small, Chrissy yanks her door open. It hits him in the face, sending him stumbling to the asphalt with a groan.

Even still, she rushes to slide into her car, ramming the key in and backing out without even checking her blind spots for unsuspecting pedestrians.

Jason’s just making his way back to his feet when she glances into her rear-view mirror before turning out of the parking lot and onto the street.

Her hands shake on the steering wheel making the car jerk about.

She doesn’t go home.

All the lights are on in the Harrington house, and she worries for a second that his parents are home for once before she sees the solitary car in the driveway. She parks behind it, taking the extra minute to line her car up perfectly parallel to it, hoping her hands will stop shaking by the time she’s done.

Steve’s waiting on the stoop by the time she makes it out of her car and up the driveway, hands still shaking with aftershocks of flight or fight. His arms are crossed, and he’s scowling down at her from his casual lean against the closed door.

“Will you come to Hellfire with me next Thursday?” she asks, voice wobbling around the request.

“Was it that bad?” Steve asks, scowl shifting into a teasing smile before she steps into the halo of the porch’s light and he catches sight of the expression on her face. “Are you okay?”

His hands are on her shoulders, warm and grounding against the chill that’s seeped into her skin. She reaches one of her hands up to brush the wetness from beneath her eyes. “Will you come?” she asks again, question firming up and sharpening now that she’s here, safe.

Steve’s hands squeeze, warm, warm, warm. “Course, Chris,” he replies, and she was right—it is better coming from his mouth. “Want to come in?”

She follows him into the house, curling herself up small in the corner of his couch, relieved when he sits close. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t rush her at all, just waits, patient the way Jason never was.

“You’re a great fake boyfriend, you know,” she says, smiling when he laughs and knocks their shoulders together.

“Well, as your fake boyfriend, do I need to kill Eddie?” he asks, and when she looks up from her knees, his eyes are almost shining with sincerity. “Because I will, you know.”

“I know,” she says, cheeks warming, not because she likes a boy, but because she has a friend, a real one who would pick her even over his crush. “But, Eddie was nice.”

Steve hums, slumping into her further. “So, who am I killing?”

“No one!” Chrissy replies, laughing just a little. Steve’s just like a dog with a bone; she’s always been a dog person. “Or Jason, maybe?”

“What?” Steve barks, all playfulness gone from his voice. “What the hell did he—”

“He didn’t do anything!” she rushes out, making space between their bodies so she can meet his heated gaze. “He just freaked me out.”

“But, he can’t—”

“But, you’re a good friend, and will come to Hellfire next week to keep it from happening again, right?”

Steve groans, slumping back into her and hiding his face in her hair. “You’re the worst,” he grumbles, only continuing when she pinches him hard right beneath his ribs. “But, fine! I’ll go!”

“Thank you,” Chrissy replies, glad she hadn’t gone home to recover alone.

Steve rubs his face against her head like the freak he secretly is. “Anytime.”

They stay there, bathed in the quiet of their shared companionship and the frankly alarming number of lights Steve has lighting up his entire house.

She’s almost dozed off, slumped into his side when Steve asks, “but, like, how was it?”

She laughs, body shaking with delight instead of fear this time as she replies, “Eddie Munson is such a nerd.”

PART 8

[compressingsins]

|| Mismatched

Yandere Grimmjow x Chubby f!reader

Warnings : Insecure reader, obsessed Grimmjow, body worship, aftercare, very touchy Grimmjow, little plot, detailed nsfw, marking. This is a nsfw 18+ fic, minors please do not interact.

“I want you to be mine, woman.”

Hello all! So I’m back (I’m not dead!), but this is just my comeback post! I know I haven’t posted in an entire year, but now I’m back and I’m gonna try to post more! I have a bunch of drafts I need to finish, so this is just like a post to show I’m still posting! Even if it flops which it might, I wanted to post something and here it is! Grimmjow is a hottie with little recognition, so here ya go!

Please do not copy or rewrite my works without my permission. 🫥

How'd you end up in a cave in Huecho Mundo with an Espada, was a long story. You're a Soul Reaper, yet he hasn't tried attacking you, not even once even if you did attack him. You were previously injured and when the Espada took you away, he treated your wounds at the best of his abilities, which honestly confused you. You've seen this Espada in action before, Grimmjow, one of Aizens strongest subordinates.

He frightened you of course, and you were even more petrified as you didn't know what he was planning on doing with you. What's even weirder is that you could sense no intentions of harming you, from him, his body sitting across from yours seeming carefree. It's almost like the Espada was... protecting you, or whatever you honestly had no idea. You weren't going to let your guard down to him completely, still watching him closely from afar.

The light of your Kido spell displaying your shadows, both of you sitting on opposite sides of the cave you were in. There was no fear in your body, but you had kept your eyes on the cyan haired male, though he was looking at the ground in silence. With a low sigh, you gulped to question him but you were cautious and simply wanted to know one thing. Once you cleared your throat, Grimmjow looked up at you across from him.

"Why... why am I here?"

Your body tensed from the sharp glare he sent you, and your nerves went into overdrive once he stood up. Still sore and injured from your previous battle with a Hollow, you tried your best in just backing away from the Espada, unaware of what he was doing. You flinched and pulled your hands in front of your face, shielding yourself as he crouched inches before you.

You were surprised since he didn't do anything, slowly dropping your hands from your face to see him looking unexpectedly calm. When you've seen him, he was always loud and aggressive, energetic and dangerous but for whatever reason, you didn't feel in danger right now. Why he was being this way with you was so unknown, as you didn't dare question him for it may upset him.

"Put your hands down, I'm not gonna hurt you, woman."

Only being able to look at him, you slowly let your hands drop to your sides and eyed the male who continued staring into your eyes. There was something in his eyes, like a hint of peace, sadness and concern but it was odd to you. If he was feeling like this, why, you didn't know but still you didn't want to cut him off. He was inches away from you, though, and it didn't fail to make you flustered.

"What's your name?"

An arched eyebrow displayed your confusion, Grimmjow still waiting patiently for you to say something. That patience, however, quickly ran out as his aggressive voice rung in your ears.

"I said tell me your damn name, girl."

You jumped from that, your words almost instantly coming out but it didn't help the second of fear that penetrated your body, stuttering a bit over your words.

"It- it's ____..."

"____."

The way he repeated your name was... well something you didn't expect, something cute and honestly you wanted to hear him say it again. You weren't being weird with yourself or anything, but you just wanted to hear it again because he said it, like it meant something to him. Your name wasn't a name that was big or important, so that's why it made you feel the way it did.

You didn't want to upset him or anything but you had a question for him, biting your lip before your eyes trailed back to his face. The mask on his face interested you and it failed to scare you, and you found him particularly... sweet, in a way? He treated your wounds when he didn't have to, and with his clothes that he shredded to patch up the cuts amongst your skin.

Gulping harshly on your spit, swallowing the lump in your throat, you prepared yourself once more to question him.

"May I ask... why did you, bring me... here?"

An ice cold glare was shot at you, making your breath hitch and your body once again began to try and instinctively retreat. Once he saw that, his blue eyes softened and stared you down like before, calm and collected. Still, he didn't seem of a threat or like he was going to harm you so almost instantly, you relaxed.

"I want you to be mine, woman."

You couldn't believe how straight forward he was, a gasp of air escaping you a second after hearing his bold words. Was he serious, you're a Soul Reaper and he's an Espada, that was near impossible. Besides, you think you're basic and he's particularly handsome, so you didn't understand why he supposedly wanted you.

Also as a different race, you would expect him to want one of the same as him and not an enemy. You were honestly going to deny it but you didn't know how to, maybe he'd get upset and aggressive like he usually is when you see him in the World of the Living. You knew you couldn't match him at all, so you didn't want to risk that besides the fact that you're still injured.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

You couldn't tell if he was serious or not but you were all ears right now, curious as to why he wanted you to be his. You didn't know what he really wanted and maybe his words were true but it too made you think that it was all a trick, a trick to give up information. You really didn't have any but you had enough, some that would be very futile to give up.

"We're enemies, why? That doesn't seem... logical."

For a brief moment he was silent, observing your face that was slightly contorted in confusion. A growl emitted from his throat, overflowing through his mouth once it opened to speak.

"You interested me, when I first saw you. Originally, I was just supposed to bring you back with me but seeing you on multiple occasions made me fall for you. Aizen wants me to bring you back for information, but I don't give a shit what he wants. I want you here with me even if you or anyone else doesn't like it."

"Why me? I'm a Soul Reaper and you're-"

"I know what the hell I am!"

His outburst caused your entire body to shudder with slight fear, but he calmed once he saw how scared you looked after that.

"I can't explain it but when I first saw you, something about you attached me. That's never happened before, with anyone, and I hate myself for feeling this way about you. Can't even fucking focus... just because you're on my damn mind."

He seemed like he was dying to tell someone this, specifically you, and it was kinda nice knowing someone felt like this about you. Still you didn't know if it was real or not, but you found your heart warming from listening to him speak. He was kinda... cute acting like this, making your body heat up with comfort that unexpectedly indulged your body.

"You're staying here to live with me, ____."

That shot a dart of fear through your body, hoping he wasn't serious with his words. You didn't want to leave your home and live in a World full of Hollows, though he is an Espada, a strong one at that. That still didn't make a difference because you didn't know him, nor did you want to stay in this hell of a place, leaving your friends.

"But I have a life in the Soul Society and the World of the Living..."

Your words were quiet, shallow and it's obvious why they were. He seemed to have expected your timid and shy behavior, staring into your face with a sense of worry, worry that he'd have to force you to stay here with him. He didn't want to have to do that but he would, if you wouldn't willingly come. His question though, grabbed your attention...

"Come on, can you honestly say you're happy living there? Yeah, letting people talk shit and treat you any type of way isn't living. That's tolerating that shit..."

You could honestly say you agreed with him, gasping and looking into his eyes that shined with a certain sparkle your heart couldn't handle. He seemed genuinely concerned for you, like he actually wanted to be with you but you still couldn't trust it. He's of the enemy which makes it hard to believe anything he said to you.

His words seemed legit though, but that could've just been you being gullible and vulnerable to anyone, like most of the time. His face was unreadable and you didn't want to play yourself, just because he was the one responsible for some of your friends injuries. Nearly killing two of your friends was even worse, the thought tightening your chest.

You just couldn't come to terms with what was true and what was not, how could you trust an enemy? Even if he is telling the truth, how could you be with someone you've never acquainted with, let alone always fight when you saw him. You were surprised when his hand took a hold of your chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze before he let his hand retreat back to his side.

"You're too damn stubborn, letting those people run all over you, ____. I wanna protect you from all their bullshit, keep you here... safe with me. Honestly, I'm fucking desperate... desperate for you and if you don't willingly stay, I'll force you to so make your choice."

His face was contorted in anger but you could tell he wasn't upset, no bad energy radiating off of him which relieved your tension just slightly. Maybe he was right, you were gullible, because you were honestly believing everything he was saying to you. Disappointed as you were in yourself just for believing him...

"Those damn idiots don't deserve you." You didn't understand why he was being this way, only seeming to want to kill everything he came across, "You fucking let them push you around, just because you're weaker than them. You shouldn't be scared of those pieces of shit..."

He wasn't lying when he said your supposed to be friends talked shit about you, but you always just thought it was on a joking level. Even if it occured nearly everyday, you still just took their words as jokes. When he called you weak though, it made you gasp out in shame and disappointment, though you do need more training.

Just haven't realized you were as weak as he made you seem caused a wave of embarrassment to flood your veins. A growl that emitted from his chest averted your gaze back to his face, seeing him a little closer to you, on both his knees with his face closer to yours. Your entire body tensed, your cheeks ghosting with crimson shades that changed your skin nearly entirely.

He didn't seem phased by how close he was to you, taking in your flushed face. You could easily forgive people but him, Grimmjow, he wrecked havoc on so many of your friends but... he also seemed genuine, and you didn't know if you were desperate but you were considering it. Now that he said what he said previously, you realize that you do get pushed around more than you thought.

Your eyes went to his face, hearing a slight uneasy breath escape him, his cheeks quickly fading as red faintly appeared. Maybe you weren't desperate, maybe he was meant to take you away for some reason, a reason you couldn't pinpoint. Your heart kept jolting for the male, the enemy and you didn't think you would feel for someone who's done so many bad things to you. Not specifically but to your... friends?

Were they really your friends, you didn't know because everything he said was true. Maybe you were just tolerating them since you really didn't have anyone else, though, you did have other friends that genuinely cared for you. Most of them do push you around, but then there is that one group that loves and cares for you.

That's why you didn't know if you should stay...

"Even if you're not as strong as most, I can protect you... keep you safe."

When his hands went to your body, you were surprised with how calm your mind and body seemed to be, practically inviting him to touch your figure. His hands were going to your thighs, just before slowly ghosting to your hips which brung your bodies close together. Your breath did catch in your throat, though.

He just let his hands rest on your hips though, softly sinking his claws in your flesh which finally made you tense. Still, he was looking into your face with that same expression but he wasn't mad, like it was his normal expression. You were practically being pulled to his chest only a few inches away, fortunately.

"So what, you gonna stay wimme or not woman?”

You bit your lip, letting your mind go into a frenzy of scrambled thoughts, trying its best to find the correct words for you to speak. You wanted to see your friends but you also didn't want to get hurt, considering how he confirmed that he'd force you if you don't. Maybe he'd even hurt your friends back home and you honestly didn't want that. You had your answer, the one you didn't think you'd pick, in the beginning...

"I'll... I'll stay with you... Grimmjow."

As you said his name, your eyes averted to his face that turned calm, a wicked grin spreading across his face before he latched his lips onto yours. It was so surprising that you barely took in a breath but easily melted into his lips that were somewhat rough, though, it drummed your heart. It wasn't a minute after until he let his long tongue slip into your mouth, letting his thicker muscle dance and caress your own that barely had any control.

Your hands instinctively went to the big set of shoulders before you, digging your nails in the flesh as your eyes shut to succumb into the kiss of Grimmjow. He was growling into the kiss, flushing his body with yours to maneuver his hands to your ass, grasping handfuls of it that made you flinch and push at his chest.

Almost instantly, Grimmjow released your soft cheeks to stare into your eyes, like he genuinely was concerned for your timid form.

"What's the problem?"

The way he acted was how he already was so it didn't really bother you, but you didn't want this to escalate far more than it should. It was obvious as to what he was trying to do and you didn't want to act on this so quickly, considering you've only just agreed to staying with him.

You didn't even get the chance to properly introduce each other, yet he was so determined to strip you and himself from your restraints. He was already half naked since he used his clothes to patch you up, earlier, thus leaving only his pants and footwear upon his body.

Your body was getting hotter from his touch, however, which he could physically feel underneath his fingertips. You were grateful that he was giving you a chance to speak to him, as it didn't seem like that's something he'd do in the beginning, just from his attitude you've previously observed.

"I'm just... this is moving too fast, for me. If you want me to stay with you, you can't just rush me to do this with you. We've only just properly met each other..."

A glare was shot at you, a growl submerging from him but his grip on your hips tightened, keeping your body still. He obviously didn't want to harm you, though, and you felt a sincere sense of warmth seek throughout your blood, flowing to your brain that was mushy from his feather touch.

"Your body says otherwise, baby. After all, I've been straining myself the entire time from just being near you. I can't really contain my want for you anymore..."

You couldn't lie, when his hands touched your body, a wave of heat ran through your body, sending shivers through you, pleasurable ones.

"It'll be a low thing to force you to have sex with me, so I'll let you decide. But, your scent is... intoxicating..."

His voice sounded strained, almost painful as he spoke those words to you. It's like he's literally been dying to do something with you, but you were still confused on what you really wanted and what you wanted to do. Besides, you've only partake in these kind of acts a few times, three to be exact, and you never got to finish...

Just because the guys you did it with only did it for their pleasure, as they didn't honestly want to stay with you. It hurts you to think about it, so you can't really make up your mind if you even want this or not. He seemed extremely desperate, though, and if that was the case being the person you are, you wanted to help him.

You couldn't even get a word out, before he snarled out something... extremely vulgar.

"I've been wanting to fuck you full of my cum, for a very long time, ____. Being in a rut without someone to fuck, is so fucking annoying..."

He looked so defeated and fed up with it, you just can't help but wonder how long he's been in a rut. But still, that wasn't as important as your decision for him, if you wanted to do this or not. It was an understatement to say that you weren't somewhat turned on from just his touch, and that kiss added fuel to the flames.

Your mind was telling you how much you wanted this and so was your body, but your heart had a trust barrier that he didn't break through yet, still not believing him all that much. You wanted to because he seemed so sincere, so you had to bite your lip to brace yourself for your answer. Looking at him and placing a hand on his arm, he looked up at you which caused a gasp to escape you, suddenly.

"Well, if it'll help you then... we can do it."

In the blink of an eye, you were pinned underneath the bigger male, his lips latched onto yours as deep groans escaped him. Your eyes were wide, feeling as he grounded his hips with yours and began humping into your soft body, unintentional whimpers and moans escaping you.

His hands were gripping tightly around your wrists, holding you completely still against his warm body. Your eyes instinctively shut, melting into the warmth of his body, feeling your heat spasming around nothing. His lips on yours was taking your breath away, literally.

You didn't even realize you were panting into the air, until you heard a chuckle rumble from the male on top of you. Your eyes opened, seeing a smug smirk on his face as he stared down at your flushed crimson face. You could feel his heartbeat on your heat, the pulsing being violent that twitched tingles into your body.

He loved the way you squirmed underneath his body, you hardly realized his hands weren't on your wrists anymore. His voice grabbed your attention, though, your heart pounding from his words.

"Show me your neck, baby. I wanna mark you as mine."

You saw how sharp his teeth were already, so your body tensed just a bit and he saw this. His hands went to your plush hips, squeezing them in his hands to sooth your nerves. You gulped just before tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck that made Grimmjow lick his lips.

It wasn't even a minute after, until he latched his mouth onto your neck, really close to the lob of your ear and you nearly screamed once his teeth dug in. He was like a vampire, feeling a trickle of blood escaping from the punctured holes that were bubbling from your neck. His hands went back to your wrist to keep you still.

You bit your lip to conceal your shrieks, feeling his tongue working on the blood that was streaming from the mark he made. He seemed to be enjoying your taste quite well, for a minute you'd think he was actually a vampire. Though, his lips created suction around the mark, pulling at the flesh and the wound electrifying more than pain.

It was a pleasurable pain that made you broken-ly moan, your body shuddering and writhing underneath him, and it made Grimmjow smirk as you shifted your heat agaisnt the tent in the front of his pants. That movement electrified his hips back into motion, pressing himself harder agaisnt you as you felt his covered length slip between your folds.

A gasp escaped you, feeling how heavy and twitchy it felt, obviously he wasn't a small man. The thought nerved you, gasping and mewling due to the liquid you could feel streaming down your leg. Your own fluids escaping you and Grimmjow could feel it too.

Once he was sure he imprinted his mark into your neck, he pulled off of you with a popping wet sound, a string of saliva breaking off as he pulled away. You shivered when a breeze of air tickled the freshly made mark, Grimmjow grinning at your current state, flushed and trembling.

It wasn't long until he started tugging at his pants, your eyes widening in panick that he all to well seen. He didn't care, though, continuing to work on his confines that was tightened extremely around his length. He's never been this hard before, feeling like his cock would explode as soon as he grazed you with it.

"Wait, Grimmjow?"

"What now, woman? You wanna stop?"

In all honesty, you didn't, but you haven't done this in a while so you thought a little preparation would be necessary.

"It's just that, well... I haven't done this in a while, so can you prep me first?"

A growl emitted from his throat but he could understand, although he couldn't contain himself any longer. He just wanted to claim your body as his and that alone still brought tension in your veins, slightly shaking at the thought. You were confused when his hands went to your hips, lifting you up to suddenly be on your hands and knees.

He was behind you which made an sound akin to a herd of buffalo stomping in your ear. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body, sending a warm chill to electrify throughout your veins. He was pressed up agaisnt you and hard too, you could feel the pulse of your cunt beating agaisnt his length that felt extremely thick.

"Just relax, baby. This'll feel good for the both of us and," He layed his chest agaisnt your back, placing his hands beside yours while his hips were now flushed with yours, "I know you haven't felt that delicious orgasm you've been craving, in years. But, I can bring you to that point.”

Your face heated from his words and it took you a moment to realize he was completely naked, and you could hear the smirk from his words. A shiver ran through you from his hot breath that fanned over the side of your face, his lips grazing your neck and back before he sat himself up. You tried so hard to look forward but you turned your head, trying to see what your body was in for.

You caught a glimpse of it, being so stiff and practically pouring thick substances of pre-cum. You didn't know but it looked like he was so hard that all the blood in the organ turned his length purple, enticing a harsh gulp in your throat. You nearly shrieked as his claws shredded your clothes, now being bare to his eyes, even your underwear tasting the same fate.

Your body tried balling up, since you were completely exposed to the handsome blue haired male, behind you. You thought he would stop here, until you felt his hands roaming your body, quiet praising coming from him.

"Damnit, so fucking sexy... so damn soft..!"

Instantly, your eyes beaded with tears that stung the corners, just because you've always wanted to hear those words from someone. At least something like that. His nails were digging into your skin, slightly letting them drag across to feel you shivering and tingling underneath him. A smack to your ass made you shudder, jolting forward from the sting behind it.

He grinned to himself, loving how your cheeks jiggled with every little movement he made you do. He wasn't one for preparing but he wanted you to feel good too, not only that, but he wanted to make you cum. He wanted your orgasm to be intense and that's what he's intending, as he knows he can give you that intense high you so desperately and obviously wanted.

"I'm more bigger than these average little shits, so you may wanna prepare yourself~"

"Grimm-"

Your words were short once you felt his tip sliding in, feeling quite thicker and bigger than it looked, when you saw it. Your chest fell to the ground, feeling Grimmjow lay his chest agaisnt your back, carefully thrusting his hips to get you to open up to him. You didn't know it, but Grimmjow was struggling to keep his composure, his eyes tightened shut and his teeth gritting the more he slid in.

"Shit..!"

His hands were now on yours, balling up and squeezing your smaller hands in his. You let out a hoarse cry of slight pain, feeling how wide you were being stretched from his thick length. Grimmjow was literally moaning agaisnt your neck, trying his best to latch onto you but failing as your walls struggled to let him in.

You were far tighter than he'd think you'd be but it was a bonus, tensing up his body as he tried to push himself into you. He couldn't though, your walls squeezing extremely tight around only the tip and some inches, his right hand going to your hip to pull you back on him. He didn't expect this extreme tightness, his eyes nearly tearing up from how good this felt.

"____! You needa... you gotta relax, damn..!"

You were trying your best to relax, pressing your arms on the ground and laying your head on top of both of them. That was kind of a mistake, now you could see him entering your body, being way bigger than he seemed to be a moment ago. This sight only made you tighten around him, vulgar moans escaping the both of you.

He rested his chin on the nape of your neck, placing both hands firmly on your hips before he naturally began prying your insides open. Instant near screams escaped you, and rumbling moans secreted pass his gritted teeth. You didn't know if it was from pain or pleasure, your noises only seeming to encourage the male to sink more wildly into you.

His pace was slow, but the thickness of his length made it all the more pleasurable feeling those pulsing veins dragging agaisnt your velvet walls. You tried suppressing your moans but his hips began snapping harshly into yours, now that he was fully inside of you, feeling how his balls lightly tapped your already drooling clit.

You wanted to scream, when his arms wrapped around your waist, quickly guiding his big fingers to your sweet neglected pussy, rubbing harsh circles into it. The obscene sound of his hips slamming agaisnt yours made your walls clench around his cock, almost trapping him inside of your overly wet insides. You couldn't believe the warmth trailing down your cheeks, hearing the deep growls and groans of the male fucking into you.

His arms were extremely tight around your body, making sure he pulled you back to meet his thrusts, feeling the full force of his cock that collided with your spongy sensitive spot. You couldn't help the lewd screams escaping you, feeling that bubbling heat boiling in your abdomen, ready to burst as he seemed to repeatedly began bashing into that spot.

Even with his cock hitting every pleasurable spot inside your soft walls, he still managed to find a spot that spilled tears from your eyelids, feeling his warm breath fanning the side of your face. He was moaning directly into your ear, his chest rubbing agaisnt your back which both were sweaty from the intense session.

Grimmjow, however, took note of your tightened insides, angling his hips to fuck you in an upward motion, making sure his cock kissed that spot each time. He didn't know he would but when he heard you let out a howling moan, you could feel your cervix give way to him, Grimmjow gritting his teeth as it clamped down on the head of his cock.

His blue locks were sticking to his forehead, layed out from this situation, though he didn't even know someone could give him this much pleasure. He could feel fluids escaping his slit, massive amount of pre-cum accidentally slipping out and into you which felt so good to him. You didn't notice it but he was still making you feel good, too good in fact as you felt that hot coil in your stomach wind way too tight.

It didn't want to break which annoyed you, causing you to move your hips back against his, meeting his thrusts that nearly broke you. He could feel how much tighter you were now, gradually picking up pace and force that knocked the wind out of your lungs. You didn't even realize his fingers weren't on your clit anymore, but you felt the pressure of his body removed from yours.

His voice snapped you back into reality, listening to his broken moans as he tried to speak through the pleasure and the loud clapping sound made between the both of you.

"Cum for me..! Cum for me, ____! Fucking cover me with your sweet juices..!"

His hands were on your hips, harshly pulling you back on his cock before your body took note of what was happening, almost instantly feeling that high you desperately wanted arising. His eyes were trained on where he was entering your soft body, loving how he could see your juices sloshing out and around his cock, dripping onto the ground beneath you.

"Scream out my name, woman! Let these fuckers know I'm claiming this pussy... ngh!"

Not even a second after, you screamed exactly what he demanded you say, feeling that delicious orgasm electrify your nerves, frying your brain nearly from how intense this was.

"GRIMMJOW!"

He smiled devilishly at this but that smile instantly went away from how much tighter you became, feeling his own orgasm approaching and quickly. He could tell you couldn't really take this, seeing as your body desperately tried retreating from his massive cock and thrusting hips. That made him wrap his arms around your body again, holding you tightly to his warm chest that rubbed agaisnt your back.

You wanted to scream feeling him hitting even deeper inside you, your pussy fluttering and quivering around his thick length. From the uneven breaths that came from Grimmjow, you could tell that he was extremely close. He was slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, in return, you could feel the twitching and throbbing of his cock.

"Fuuuck..! I'm gonna fucking cum in you, baby..! I want you to take it all for me, don't spill a drop..!"

"I can't... can't take it..! Anymore, Grimmjow..!"

Another knot formed in your abdomen from his methodical thrusts, slowly yet deeply pushing into you, clearly lost to his own pleasure. You felt a cool substance on your shoulder, Grimmjow drooling as he nearly became delirious from the orgasm that broke over him. The force behind his orgasm hit a bundle of nerves inside of you, causing your overly stimulated pussy to gush all over him again.

This orgasm was more intense than the first one and he could honestly say that his was more intense than any past fling he's ever had. You're not a fling, however, Grimmjow wanting to keep you more than anything. As his seed seeped throughout your body, he continued to slowly piston his hips in a circular motion that stirred your insides. You could only twitch, your body spasming with every movement.

You barely registered his tongue slowly stroking your neck, placing kisses agaisnt it before he plunged himself deeply inside you, staying stationary to make sure all of his fluids got into your body. Both yours and his juices were streaming down your leg, leaving you relaxed but concerned for one thing. You couldn't say it though, soft sobs escaping you that shot a gasp from Grimmjow before he stopped licking your neck.

Sitting up but still buried to the hilt inside of you, the little movement causing you to moan softly, feeling him pushing his cock inside of you to stay there. A growl came from him, before he once again placed his hands on the sides of your head and his abdomen agaisnt your ass.

"What's wrong?"

"This is it..?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're gonna leave me, after this... it's okay, I'm used to it..."

He could hear the pain in your voice, a snarl escaping him and a gasp of shock slipping past your lips, as he wrapped his arms back around your body to hold you close to him. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart agaisnt your back, listening to his words that seemed... real, for the first time.

"Fuck that, I'm staying with you and you're staying with me. You're mine, you're not going anywhere I've already told you this. Whatever those assholes did to you doesn't matter, you're only gonna be with me, no matter what."

Your heart jolted, listening to him. This was right, this choice was right there's no doubt in your mind, anymore. He seems to genuinely care for you, feeling his lips kiss your neck again before he slowly pulled himself from your abused core. You felt a pleasurable chill run through your body, suddenly being on your back with your legs hitched up around his hips.

He was looking down at you, smirking as he took in your confused expression. Entrap-ping your body with his hands, Grimmjow inched his face closer to yours as he enclosed on your lips. Both your eyes closed in a sweet and gentle kiss, him pulling away to look into your eyes. You could honestly say that you believe him, and your heart is expanding for him far faster than you'd thought.

"We're not done yet, baby. I want you to look in my eyes, while I pound into this tight pussy of yours. You may wanna save your voice, we'll be here for a while."

You tried denying him since your body was overly sensitive, but a harsh thrust of his hips cut you off, already feeling his cock bashing into your cervix. Your eyes sealed shut, but his was staring down at your lovely face, bottling up the cute expressions you made. He knew you didn't know but he honestly loved you, and he was determined to keep you safe.

He wouldn't let those 'friends' of yours come in tact with you, ever again, though he wasn't going to keep you locked away. He had a plan for everything, though, he wouldn't allow anyone to be near you as they used to be. He doesn't trust anyone with you, wanting to keep you by him forever.

Truth be told, he'd possibly quit all of his evilness just to keep you safe. Yes, you were mismatched, but you were meant to be.

[vidavalor]

Books on the shelf...

Took me months but I've finally been able to draw my eye to the books in the background of this shot and not Aziraphale in the foreground 😂 and I've found a couple of interesting details, especially for anyone looking at things in the story that involve boxes, containers, and turning things upside-down/right-side-up...

Visible on the shelf beside/behind Aziraphale:

The World Atlas of Wine, 3rd edition, by Hugh Johnson and Jancis Robinson. First published in 1971. This edition was published in 1993. It's the green book with the gold lettering that gets half-covered by Aziraphale's hair as he wiggles.

The Origins of The Second World War by A.J.P. Taylor. Originally printed in 1961 but the edition on the shelf is from the 2008 re-edition. That re-edition came in a red slipcover box that is missing. The book is right beside The World Atlas of Wine. It is shelved upside-down on the shelf. Making things weirder?

Visible on the shelf directly in front of Crowley is...

...another copy of the same re-edition of The Origins of The Second World War. It's right behind where his sunglasses are in the shot. This one is also missing the red slipcover box... but is shelved right-side-up.

These books fit with things in Crowley and Aziraphale's story and history and these editions are likely placed in this shot where they could be visible intentionally. Not just because Good Omens is wonderfully detail-oriented but because of the fact that they're both now worth too much individually to be included in used books sold in bulk for set decoration.

Obviously, Aziraphale's copies aren't really for sale 😉 but, in our real world, the 3rd edition of The World Atlas of Wine that Aziraphale has would go for around $100 and those copies of that re-edition of The Origins of The Second World War, even without their boxes, are each worth about $45. Some of the books in the background where we cannot read the titles on their spines probably were just sold to fill the space with books but the ones where titles are visible to us in the shot appear to be chosen a bit more intentionally. These two books, in particular, though, both match the story really well and are too valuable to be sold in bulk so they are probably meant for us to notice.

I hadn't seen these mentioned yet and just thought that'd be interesting for anyone into Aziraphale's books or looking at stuff like things backwards or upside down in story mirrors, boxes/containers and turning them over, and things like that. 📖

[brailsthesmolgurl]

Delirious

No matter how much you had offered your heart and arms to him, you were never his. And he was never yours.

Another oneshot requested by my angsty babies, I am glad you chose Rafayel. Yes, the writer you had wished for is back. Hang on tight to your seats baby gurl, this one gonna be hard to swallow.

Warnings: Angst, no comfort. Make your eyes bleed. Character death. Descriptive Mentions of dark topics so if ur sensitive please refrain.

Artwork is not mine, please support the original artwork!

Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Ding Dong. dINg dOng. DiNg dOnG.

You slammed your door opened and the 183cm drama queen stands in your doorway, head hung low, face drooped towards the floor. If he is not made of solid muscle and bones, you would be watching him melting right into the floor. Sighing, you stood aside and let him in, not even bothering to ask him a single question. You sort of having a gist on what had happened.

"Here, soup for you." He replied solemnly, feet carrying him lazily across the living room and to your kitchen. He brought soup this time, must be something big. Him bringing a souvenir over also means he would probably be staying the night. Not that you guys are in a relationship or anything, but 'complicated' is the right term for the both of you as of this stage.

The chair creaked under his weight as he took a seat on the wooden chair slotted at your dining table. "Rafayel." You grabbed a tissue box and sat down on the opposite end, a good necessity whenever he drops by your house unannounced. His hunched over form under the harsh lighting of your dining room's light unexpectedly painted a blob of shadow on your table. You reached your hand out this time, finger tapped on the wooden table just a few centimeters away from his hand. "Rafayel, are you okay?"

"She broke up with me." His reply was short. No details, no whining, no accusations, but just one sentence. This is an untouched territory for you. Most of the time, he would pressed on the doorbell nonstop until you slam open the door and his lips would not shut off till he was done venting. There were a couple of times he did came in looking like a dreaded fish, but the smell of alcohol would be the perfume of his. Today, however, no alcohol smell and no usual harangues.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Few days passed, till few weeks, then few months after. For such a while, Rafayel had been hanging out more frequently with you, bringing you to the most random places to hang out such as going to a bowling alley just to get their waffles because he claims he likes to watch people roll balls but he also likes the waffles there. A trip to the market only to buy crabs and releasing them into the backyard to watch which one could run the fastest then the winner shall be rewarded as dinner on the dining table.

He had never been weirder than ever, but maybe this is his way of coping and who are you to judge? You had never been in love. But reading through romance books and watching all of the romantic shows, when love comes to your mind, Rafayel comes to your mind. You thought, maybe you do love him?

"Get out." Your words were final. Index finger sliced through the air and pointed straight towards your front door. Your cheeks glistened under the reflecting light casted by the television that was playing a teen romance flick. But no attention was spared for the movie anymore. "Rafayel. GET. OUT."

"What do you mean?" Eyebrows sewn together, eyeing your expression that spelled hurt. He was confused about your sudden burst of anger. "All I did was talk about the movie. And you got mad at me all of a sudden."

"You did not talk about the movie. All you did, was compared me to her, with the context of the movie." Your nostrils flared, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as if you had inhaled poison. Your throat and chest tightening further the more you held your tears in. "You lied to me. You said you got over her." Your arm fell to your sides, voice feeble. "But, why do you always find the need to compare me to her?"

"Oh spare me, I just went through a breakup, I could use the space to let loose, can't I?" His ignorance egged you on, seeing how indifferent he is about this situation. "Furthermore, I could use the---"

"And you think it's okay to play with my feelings?!" You belted, eyes welled up with tears, blurring your vision. You stepped up to him, hands pointed towards his face this time and you seethed in anger. "You, came here everytime, when she broke your heart. And out of everytime, I stayed. I waited." Your voice started cracking. "I was there for you when you had nobody else. And I picked you up when you thought you could not live without her anymore."

"Well, you could have just left if you---" He chipped in and you slapped him across his face with your palm. Although your hands are small, but it packed enough of a force to cause his cheek to ache, an uncomfortable throbbing pain following afterwards. He left his head tilted to the side, taking in the reality of what had happened. He just got slapped by a girl. Never in his life, he thought he would do something so outrageous that he would get slapped across the face. Guess he just broke his streak of not getting slapped by women.

"I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU, CAN'T YOU TELL?!" You withdrew your hands and slid onto the floor, full on sobbing as you hugged onto your body to gain warmth for yourself. All of the blood had rushed up to your head which explains why you could not feel your legs anymore, hence the position on the floor. You desperately hoped Rafayel would grab you right now, and hug you tight within his arms.

You heard hurried shuffles, sound of keys jangling and a soft thud next to you. Those noises not tending to your curiosity at all. "I am sorry." His reply was bland, numb even. A sentence for remorse, also a sentence for a goodbye. The doors closed behind you and you were left alone, a forlorn soul basked within the lights emitted from the romance show. Silent sobs overheard by the moon that was peeking in through the windows of your sky roof.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

"Rafayel!" Thomas burst in the front doors, scurrying towards Rafayel's room at full speed after spotting the empty canvas sitting at the living room. Slamming the door that leads to Rafayel's room, the artist was sprawled out on the bed, his room so cold that Thomas could have just witnessed the North Pole without having to be there. The floor was surrounded in trash, papers crumpled up, pencils of all kinds used for sketching strewn across the floor. One may call it an organised mess, but Thomas calls this artist block.

"How long have you been in this room?!" Thomas shook Rafayel's shoulders to wake him up. "Your room is as cold as the cold storage that you use to store your seafood!" Thomas wasted no time in having to collect the pieces of papers and pencils on the floor, arranging them in his hand. "Why are you not done with---"

His nag came to a halt when Rafayel had sat up straight, back hunched over and eye bags the only colour present on his pale features. "What do you want?" Even his voice sounds hoarse, like a teen boy cycling through the age of puberty. "I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Your calls, as usual, went unanswered for the past few days so I helped myself by going over to ask y/n about your whereabouts because I thought you were staying with her pretty often these days." Placing the items onto the artist's white desk, Thomas turned to study his expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I know that look from somewhere." He squinted his eyes, studying him even further. "You had that same look when you caught your ex cheating on you that night." Thomas was referring to the girl that came before you. The one that had broke Rafayel's fragile heart. "Funny, now that I think of it, y/n's not doing any better than you."

Coming to realisation, the light bulb in Thomas' head flipped the switch. "Did anything happened to the both of you?"

"Did she asked anything about me?" Rafayel answered his question with another question. Eyes finally slanted upwards to face the manager of his. He just wanted to hear something, at least something to give him a reason to find her. He felt guilty, remorseful even for putting his burdens onto her. Leaving her all alone, drowning her in her own agony that day was the worse thing he could ever do to someone who had only ever been kind to him. And it took him three days to figure that out in his fish brain.

"No, she just asked me to hand you this." The older man reached into the pocket of his blazer, fishing a pink note out of his pocket and he handed it to Rafayel. The paper a little wrinkled, but the contents of it are a mark of your handwriting.

//𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹.// Your cursive writing always a form of art to his eyes. A small, dainty note was all that takes for her to personally pass on the will to him. Rafayel stared at the note for a good minute, the wind coming out of the air-conditioner turning Thomas into a popsicle but filling the silence.

"I have to go." Rafayel uttered, hoisting himself out of the bed in one go and he threw on his dark pistachio green open collared shirt. The one you always quipped about how healthy his skin tone looks in it but with him constantly bantering that the green was a direct insult to his hair and eye colour. Just for this time, he would smother his ego, put on your favourite outfit, and head over to find you.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

The keys he held onto, the same set of extra keys you had entrusted him with, slotted into the keyhole and turning it clockwise, a 'clack' could be heard and he opened the door with the twist of the copper-painted doorknob. The balcony's sliding door remained opened, the sheer white curtains danced to the rhythm of the wind. The lights in your house were dimly lit, providing Rafayel with just enough lighting to navigate himself towards your room.

At this timing, in the middle of the night, he tiptoed through your wooden floors, afraid even the smallest of creaks would give you the spooks. He twisted the doorknob to your door but it jammed halfway. Trying again, with a bit more exerted force this time, the door remained unbudgable. "Y/N...?" He called out for your name, using his knuckle to give a light knock on your door. "It's me Rafayel. Can we talk?"

He was met with a deafening silence. Of course you would not want him to be anywhere near you, be it to hear him apologise for his stupidity or for him to comfort you within his arms. He bet you could care less about him given the last stunt he had pulled on you. He grappled for his phone, pulling out of his pant's back pocket and he turned on the screen, the light on his phone screen puts the dim lightings to shame.

He scrolled through his phone book till he stopped at your name, a heart symbol edited in next to your name. It was not just a stunt for him to catch your attention, the heart emoji has always been there, but after you had taken him in and allowed him to stay with you for a couple of weeks, the heart started making more sense to him, but poor Rafayel couldn’t distinguish what is love and what is bare attraction. If he could get to talk to you this time, then maybe the heart would mean the world to him. Maybe, maybe this time, he will not mess his speech up and break your heart again.

The phone was set to dial mode and he pressed onto the green call button, ready to receive shoutings from the other side of the room. Your ringtone rang, the stupid song for the Toothless Meme played on rewind. Did you slept a bit too well maybe? He called again, and the same scenario happened.

His heart was hit with a sudden pang of fear. You had always been a light sleeper and noticing the obnoxiously loud ringtone not even waking you up for the slightest bit, he decided to take a step back and bust down the door with his shoulder. Luckily, just with one hard nudge of his broad shoulders, the door dislodged itself.

So does his heart. Your whole room was thrashed, filled with the pink notes that you had given to Thomas earlier. Some were torn, some were sheathed, some had scribbles all over it, all of the notes littered with handwritten notes beyond his comprehension. Rafayel watched you, held up vertically, legs far from touching the ground, a noose was the only thing connecting you towards the ceiling. "Y/N!" He ran up to you and grabbed you, his lanky legs kicking all of the notes out of his way. "Y/N!"

A short burst of flames from his fingers burnt the noose and you fell to the floor. Your face a shade match to the moon that was sitting outside. Rafayel's hands fumbled with his phone, calling the emergency hotline as soon as he could. Strings of curses coming out of his mouth afterwards when he asked for help to be deployed to your location as soon as possible.

While awaiting for the ambulance, Rafayel did CPR, or at least what he could remember from the lesson he had taken years ago. Pumping steadily to a rhythm, blowing air through your mouth to hopefully deliver air to your lungs. The sirens of the ambulances huddled outside of your condominium, the blue and red lights adding on a speck of neon to the monotonous night.

"Stay with me please. Please stay with me y/n." Rafayel held you in his arms, your ice cold skin prickled against his warmth. His tears fell down his cheeks and continued its trail down your already tear-stricken face. He never thought his ruse would cause you this much damage. He thought that you could be the end to his delirium, and the start to his new reality.

The paramedics that arrived on the scene stood aimlessly at the door frame, watching the broken man in front of them, amidst the thrashed room, holding onto a lifeless body of a woman who seemingly cried herself to death.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Angsty af, this piece is part and partial of my experience as I had once struggled with my mental health before, and it was also due to a shitty ex. But I am doing much better now, and writing this brings back those shitty feels that I used to have, but also reminded me of how much more happier and stronger I am now, and that I am not choosing death because of my ex! :)

But if any of you, do have issues with mental health, please do seek for reliable help. As cliche as it sounds, life is not at all bad if you have people that are supportive of your recovery journey. If you needed someone to rant to, my dms are always open <3.

I do not wish harm for any of my readers, and I want you guys to know that just as much as ur supporting my works, I want to be there to support you if you have any hardships in life as well. Just know that you are loved, and I love you <3.

Sincerely, Brails.

[steddiealltheway]

"Steve! You've got to help me. I panicked, and I told my Tinder date that you and Eddie have been dating for two years!" Robin yells as she storms into their living room. 

Luckily, Steve's gotten used to her entering their apartment in such a way over the past few years, but he barely registers what she says in her haste. He takes a moment to stare at her with his eyebrows drawn together in confusion, hoping the words will eventually make sense. 

They don’t. 

"What?" 

Robin paces back and forth while gesturing wildly with her hands. "You know how I do the thing where I ramble around girls I find really really hot? Well, I was doing that, and I brought you up and kept going on about how annoying my roommate is-" 

"Are you kidding m-" 

Robin continues as if she didn't just insult him. "And she kind of stopped and look at me and said, 'Your roommate is a guy?' And I got confused and said yes because why would I lie? And she got all uncomfortable and started asking more questions like if you were gay or straight, and I told her you were bi, and she got even weirder! So, eventually I just straight up asked her what was wrong, and she said that she didn't want to go out with me if my roommate was potentially into me. So I told her that wasn't a problem because you've been dating Eddie for two years." She finishes with that awkward lip bite she does which can be oddly endearing sometimes. But it’s not this time. 

Steve leans forward on the couch. "I'm sorry. You still want to go out with a girl who has no trust in my ability to keep things in my pants? As if she doesn't trust that you're a lesbian and if I ever made a move on you, you would absolutely punch me in the throat." 

Robin sits next to him and grabs his hands. "She's so so hot, Steve. Please." 

Steve rolls his eyes. "Fine, you can keep telling her that I’m dating Eddie, I guess." 

Robin breaks eye contact and starts picking at her nail polish. 

Well, that’s not a great sign. "What aren't you telling me?" 

Robin slowly looks at him in the way a dog looks at their owner after destroying their favorite shoes. "Okay, so then I really got a bit crazy, and when she asked me to show me pictures of you two together, I dropped my phone in my glass of water." She slowly pulls out her phone, and sure enough, it won't even turn on. 

Steve digs the heels of his hands into his eyes before grabbing her phone and stalking off to the kitchen to find rice and a bowl. Robin follows after him. 

"So, all I need to do is take a few pictures of you guys looking really coupley on dates and whatnot and make it look like they range over the past two years. I also told Veronica that I would let her meet you two sometime soon,” She rushes in to add the second thing before Steve can really process the first one. She just smiles, trying to look all sweet and endearing.  

Steve gives Robin the best bitchy glare he has, but she shoots him one back and counters by saying, "You owe me, and you know it." 

"For what?" Steve asks as he pours rice over her phone. 

Robin crosses her arms. "Three weeks ago, you kicked me out of the apartment without warning to have sex with some random girl, and I was left stranded for the night." 

Steve scoffs, "You went to Nancy's and slept in her very nice guest bedroom!" 

"You owe me!" 

Steve puts the bag of rice down and sighs. "Fine, but if Eddie doesn't agree, then I'm out." 

Robin smiles. "Deal." 

Steve hates how confident she is about the whole thing, so he calls Eddie and puts him on speaker. When he answers, Steve immediately says, "Hey, Eddie, you're on speaker with me and Robin, and she has a very ridiculous request for you. I'll let her tell you the details." 

After Robin recounts her night and Steve tries not to rant about how much of a bad vibe he gets from the girl, Eddie pauses for a bit to take it all in. Then, he says, "Robin, I really don't like this Veronica girl." 

"She's hot!" Robin retorts. 

Eddie snorts on the other line. "I'm in if Steve's in." 

Steve's jaw drops. Robin shoots him a big smile. "Perfect! What if we started on pictures early tomorrow? I've got a lot of random dates to prepare you guys for." 

Steve interrupts before Eddie can answer. "And why can't you show her like... three pictures of us cuddling on the couch?" 

"We need to cover our tracks as much as we can and cuddling on the couch a few times won’t do. Oh, we should hang a few pictures of you two around the apartment!" Robin plots excitedly. 

Steve runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. He can't believe he's doing this. They don’t even have pictures hanging up. 

"Tomorrow works for me," Eddie says, entirely oblivious to Steve’s internal struggle. 

But Steve can't help but get a little excited at the thought of seeing Eddie and spending a whole day with him. 

So, he sucks it up and says, "I'm free, too. And I'm excited to see you, Eddie. I've missed you." 

"I saw you yesterday," Eddie laughs on the other line. 

Steve blushes and argues, "Seeing you for a minute when I get my coffee doesn't count." 

"Whatever you say, pumpkin bread." 

Pumpkin bread? Steve scrunches up his nose in protest. “That’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.” 

"Just practicing for when we meet this Veronica girl, my peach." 

Steve can’t help but laugh. "We are not that kind of couple. But I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night. Sweet dreams, rubber ducky." 

Eddie laughs loudly on the other line and muffles the sound probably with his hand. 

Steve bites his lip, trying not to get too pleased at causing that reaction. 

"Good night, sweetheart." The line beeps three times as the call ends, and Steve can't help the smile that grows on his face. Sweetheart... he kind of likes that one. 

"Glad to see you two get into your roles," Robin says with a smirk. 

Steve jumps back, having forgotten she was there. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight.” With that, he quickly rushes off to his room before Robin can say anything else about the interaction. 

"Goodnight, dingus!" she calls after him joyously. 

This all better be worth it.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next morning, Steve can't help but get a little nervous when Eddie sends him an "Almost there!" text. He has a feeling this whole thing is going to blow up in their faces or something. 

He's always known that Eddie's been cute. Hell, the first time he saw him, Steve thought he was hot. But he had never thought of them together after that. Sure, there was definitely a certain chemistry between them, but for some reason, Steve always saw him as off-limits. Especially since Dustin would kill him if he ever broke Eddie's heart. 

So, Steve learned to push down any feelings he's had for him over the years. And he's afraid that all those repressed feelings are going to come up today.  

There's a knock on his and Robin's apartment door, and Steve freezes. Hopefully his and Eddie’s friendship will survive whatever happens next.  

Here goes nothing.  

He opens the door to find a curly head of hair in front of him that isn't Eddie's. 

"Nancy?" 

"Hi! I'm here to take pictures today," she explains as she walks through the door, wiggling her Canon camera in her hand. "I thought Robin told you." 

"She certainly did not," Steve says and pinches his nose. He might kill her. He pushes the door shut, but it stops. 

"Hey," Eddie says peaking his head out from behind the door and catching Steve’s eye quickly. "Sorry, I'm late," he apologizes as he pulls Steve into a tight hug. 

Steve lingers in it, squeezing Eddie tightly, smelling the lavender shampoo he uses, and trying to make the moment last as long as he can. 

The sound of a camera shutter snaps him out of the moment. 

He pulls back and looks at Nancy. 

"Taking some candid pictures," she says unapologetically. 

But Steve doesn't care too much when he feels Eddie's hand linger on his back. "You're taking pictures for us? What happened to Robin?" 

"Yes, what did happen to Robin?" Steve asks raising his voice so she'll hear him. 

"Coming!" she yells then comes out of her room looking very strangely put together. Steve glances down at her wrist and notices her wearing her lucky black bracelet. When did she start wearing that again? 

"You look nice," Nancy says with a soft smile. 

"Thanks," Robin replies with a soft blush. 

Steve is definitely missing something, but he can't pay attention when Eddie is gently rubbing his back. He's going to end up dying on the spot. 

"Eddie!" Robin says, finally noticing him, "I see you brought the extra clothes." 

Steve glances down to where Eddie's suitcase sits on the floor. He does not remember him bringing that in. Shit, he's so distracted by his presence. Wait. "Why did you bring extra clothes?" he asks Eddie then notices how close they're standing. Oh, hello, Eddie's very soft-looking lips. 

"I told you we're covering two years. That means different seasons," Robin says as if the answer is obvious. 

Hell no. "There's no way in hell I'm wearing cold clothes outside in the heat." 

"Good thing I planned for us to stay in for those pictures," Nancy says with a smile on her face. "Now go change into one of your sweaters or something. Oh! Eddie, you should change with him so you two can color coordinate. It'll be so cute!" 

Steve adds Nancy to the list of people he might murder. 

Eddie's hand drops from his back as he wheels the suitcase into Steve's room. Steve follows and closes the door behind him. 

"Sorry for all this," Steve says, glancing around to make sure nothing embarrassing is laying out. 

Eddie shakes his head and brushes it off as if it's nothing, "Nah, it's all good. I think it could be fun if we let it. Color coordinating is a horrible idea though." 

"Agreed," Steve replies, deciding that his room looks fine. He opens up his closet and pushes his short sleeve clothes to the side to try to get to his sweaters hanging in the back. "What are you thinking for clothes?" 

"I don't care as long as you wear your yellow sweater for one of the pictures." 

Steve snorts. For some reason, Eddie had such an attachment to the thing. One time, he mistakenly put it in his designated donation bin, and he thought Eddie was going to cry when he found it. 

He had cradled the thing to his chest and dramatically said, "You don't understand, Steve. Some people's lives depend on you wearing this sweater. Their lives, Steve." 

Steve had rolled his eyes, put it back on a hanger, and hung it with the other sweaters. "Better?" he asked. 

"Much better."  

And the whole thing had been worth it to see the smile on Eddie's face - especially when Steve decided to surprise him by wearing it to the coffee shop the next day. 

"Whatcha thinking about?" Eddie asks with a smile, suddenly very close to him. 

Steve shakes his head as if shaking away the memory. "Nothing." 

Eddie raises an eyebrow but he doesn't push it before he goes back to his suitcase and starts laying out his clothes on Steve's bed. 

Steve strips off his shirt and pulls the sweater over his head. He glances down at his jeans and decides that Veronica probably won't remember what pants he was wearing in each picture. 

He turns to tell Eddie as much but freezes when he sees Eddie shirtless, sorting through the clothes to find the perfect assortment of layers. Steve swallows and adverts his eyes. He is not going to check him out while he's changing. He clears his throat and turns back to his closet. "I think we just need to change our shirts. Maybe outside, you can start with a base layer then add on top of that." 

Steve doesn't think he can stand to see shirtless Eddie with all his tattoos out in the daylight or the moonlight - if it takes that long. And he certainly does not want to let anyone else see that either. 

"That's smart, babe." 

Steve's hand squeezes whatever poor shirt he was grabbing a little too tight at the nickname. He's never been one for nicknames, especially over-the-top ones, but knowing it's Eddie calling him that as if he really does love him... it really does something for Steve. 

He doesn't reply as he grabs a few shirts and jackets and lays them out on the bed next to Eddie's stuff. 

He glances up at Eddie and almost breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that he has a shirt on. And a flannel. And his leather jacket. Thank goodness for layers. 

He looks back at Eddie's face and catches the exact moment that Eddie registers him wearing the yellow sweater. His eyes fill with unhinged excitement and joy. He walks right into Steve's space and leans down - oh my god - to talk to the sweater. 

"I've missed you so much. You know, it's so unfair that Steve only gets to wear you for a small part of the year. And he doesn't own anything short-sleeved in your beautiful color it seems." 

Steve puts his hands on his hips and stares up at the ceiling. He can't believe he's ever had trouble pushing down feelings for this man. 

(But he makes a note to himself to buy more things in yellow just for him.) 

There’s a loud knocking on the door, then Robin yells, “You two have been in there for a while! Everything okay?” 

“Eddie is talking to my sweater again!” Steve calls back. 

There’s a pause before Nancy says, “Sorry, we didn’t hear you right. What?” 

“I’m talking to his sweater! Be out soon!” Eddie yells. 

There’s some mumbling outside the door as Steve finally looks down at Eddie and asks, “Are you done?” 

Eddie smiles up at him. “Never.” 

But he straightens up and presses a quick kiss to Steve’s shoulder before he turns to leave the room. “That was for the sweater, not you,” Eddie clarifies. 

“Right,” Steve replies. Because that makes so much sense.

Today is going to kill him. 

Part two ;)

(This was meant to just be a ficlet for my dear friend @henderdads , and then it turned into a six-part fic. I hope you enjoy!! ((Especially you, Cass)) AO3 Link here!)