#this band is the only thing keeping sane

[rocketqueen48]

Rivers and Scott

[gorillaz-girl]

lmao what would they do without her

[nomequedamas]

I have no one to talk with about these 8 talented/funny/goofy/sweet/beautiful men about please come talk to me

[yourplaceinaugust]

i had the shittiest day at work and then i found out that my two of my favourite artists are doing a show together and that cheered me up

[positivelyghastly]

Having many many Mist thoughts on this abhorrent Tuesday evening

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt.2]

[<- part 1 | part 3 ->]

Tim doesn't remember what happened. What he does remember is that he was in the middle of an apocalypse with no idea how to survive it, a few of his friends and family dead, and clinging to the last possible resort with no hope it would actually make a difference.

He remembers thinking whatever happened next could not be worse than what he's already been through.

And then, he remembers an unfamiliar voice, a cheeky grin, and a light so bright he had to squint his eyes shut not to be blinded.

When he opened them again, he was back in the Cave, and, as he found out a few moments later, when a panicking Dick ran up to him and attempted to squeeze the dear life out of his body with a crushing hug, back in time by three weeks. With the whole recollection of what happened before- Well, after that.

And, it was not only him who got to keep all the important memories. The rest of the Bats remembered everything as well, and the League, and even a few others, all of whom were somehow connected to said apocalypse, which had not yet happened.

Tim looked down to the Ring.

He did not tell anyone why or how they got a second chance.

A month later, with the crisis safely averted and his anxiety buzzing under his skin, Tim locked himself up in the Nest, pressed his lips to the cold metal on his finger once again, and whispered a quiet, "Thank you."

He did not know what he expected in response, but certainly not a snort right by his ear and an incorporeal voice that seemed to come from every direction at once.

"You're welcome." It was not ominous, not solemn or anything of sorts. If anything, the voice sounded like Duke whenever Tim thanked him for a fresh cup of coffee the boy brought to the Cave for him. Entirely unbothered and offhanded, and a little bit fond, like somehow saving Tim's whole world was not a big deal.

Well, maybe it wasn't, for whoever the voice belonged to.

Tim looked at the Ring again. Then, he looked around, not sure how to proceed. As far as his analysis went, the King - because who else it might have been? - did not want anything in return, nor did they intend on keeping in contact. And, technically, that was probably a good thing. Because, yeah, right, any normal and sane person would prefer to stay away from getting unnecessarily involved with beings of immeasurable power.

However, Tim did not think of himself as either normal or sane.

So, he clicked his tongue, annoyed and on the verge of pouting, "Really? That's it? 'You're welcome'?"

For a second, nothing happened.

Then, there was a startled, surprised snort of laughter, and, a moment later, a boy floating in the air a few feet away from Tim.

Tim blinked. The supposed almighty monarch of Infinite Realms, Keeper or Worlds and whatever, did not look particularly kingly. If anything, he looked very much unkingly.

Not much older than Tim - so, twenty or somewhat around it - wearing something that he'd expect Jason to wear on a daily basis. Cargo pants, an unzipped jacket with its sleeves rolled up, a t-shirt with some rock band logo, none of which exactly screamed 'royalty' to Tim. There was a matter of floating, of course, and the boy's hair was so white that it actually hurt to look at it directly, but other than that, the King looked...

Almost absurdly normal.

He was also holding a big, although already half-empty cup of bobba milk tea, and lazily reclining in the air without a care in the world.

"You want some?" The boy asked when he caught Tim staring at his drink.

Tim blinked. The vision of a floating boy in his living room did not disappear.

"I, um," he stammered over words, searching for any kind of answer, and then shook his head, "No, thanks?" The words came out more like a question than a statement. The boy pursed his lips and shrugged.

"Your loss. It's from the best place ever," he paused, looking up to the ceiling and frowning, "I don't think it exists in this timeline."

Tim shakes his head again, like trying to kickstart his thought process. It doesn't work.

"So, you're..." he trails off, and the boy startles before moving in the air and shifting so his feet actually touch the ground. His hair and jacket still both act like gravity doesn't exist.

"Oh, right. I forgot I never introduced myself," he gives Tim a sheepish grin, "It's kind of strange, seeing that I did spend about three years around you. I'm Danny, or Phantom," he offers Tim a hand and then tilts his head slightly, "But never Daniel, for the record."

That is honestly too much information in just three sentences. Tim shakes the offered hand - which is way too cold to be actual human hand - mostly on reflex.

"I'm Tim," he adds dumbly, and Danny grins.

"Yeah, I know."

Which brings Tim back to what the boy said before, and he frowns.

"Wait, you said you've spent three years around me?" That means, since around the time Tim first put the Ring on, if he is not mistaken. The boy rubs the back of his neck.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to see who you were before I made myself known, but your family is a really nosy bunch, and you're quite literally never alone, and I kind of didn't want to scare you, so..."

"So you stalked me for three years," Tim finishes the sentence when Danny trails off. The boy grimaces and makes a so-so expression.

"I mean, you all did think I was some kind of an eldritch monster that's going to spirit you away or something. Showing up unannounced would be awkward at the least," he reasons. Tim can't argue with it when he puts it that way.

So, instead, he reaches for the cup in Danny’s hand and snatches it away, taking a sip before the boy is able to protest. It does taste like the best bobba he tried, so there's that.

"Are you?" He asks, tapping the straw on his chin as Danny floats up again, seemingly unbothered about the stolen drink. Looks like keeping his feet on the floor is either uncomfortable or rather unnatural for him.

"Am I what?" Danny raises one eyebrow.

"An eldritch monster?" Tim clarifies, and, between one moment and another, the sight of the semi-normal, albeit floating, guy in front of him distorts like a glitching video. Glimpses of bright, neon green eyes, sharp, inhuman teeth, and shadows crawling around the room fill Tim's vision, making him gasp sharply, but all of that is gone as soon as he blinks. Danny shrugs.

"I can be," he admits easily, "But most of the times, I'm not."

Tim looks at him thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes and taking another long sip of the drink. The bobba pearls taste vaguely like mango when he chews them.

On one hand, this is a very much unknown, possibly dangerous magic creature. On the other, the creature's name is Danny, and he does have a good taste for food, so how bad can it really be?

"Cool," he shrugs finally, offering the cup back, "Wanna go out some time?"

Danny smiles so bright that Tim can't help but return it and takes the almost empty drink, his fingers brushing over Tim's.

"I thought you'd never ask," he snorts.

[paarksunghoon]

Sunghoon trying to stay sane and respectful but your love for mini skirts and barely there tops are testing his patience day by day. He's not a horn dog but God when you press against him, so soft, so pretty and oh so naive..do you not notice your entire cleavage hanging out for his eyes to drink in, or the skirt riding up your luscious thighs as you rant about your day?

as someone who wears mini skirts all the time…nbgngngn. i’m also pretty high but reading this really put a number on me so sorry for typos lol

***

Sunghoon is a skirt chaser.

He’s always loved seeing girls wearing them since it made their legs look longer. It didn’t matter much to him—short girls or tall girls—he loved seeing ass peeking out from under the skirt and how they’d always tug at the hem to pull it down. Sunghoon doesn’t date much either (although that definitely wasn’t because nobody wanted him like that either; he wasn’t looking for that type of commitment).

He loved the kind of skirts that paired well for going out. Sure, the solid color staples pieces were cute. But the way silk touches the skin and how hips sway in these fabrics was enough to make his mouth salivate.

When you started wearing them, Sunghoon became perplexed.

You, his best friend since twelve, seemed to have ditched jeans and long dresses for short skirts and baby tees. In the past few months, he’s seen you switch up your wardrobe to the point where he was sure you had more than enough mini skirts to last you a lifetime. They came in all colors and styles, one for every color underneath the rainbow and then some. His friends all noticed this too, eyes following your ass every time you walked in front of them. That made him mad.

The thing is, you have an amazing ass and your tits always sit so pretty. He tries not to stare and gawk at you every time you wear these kinds of clothes. You keep it fairly tame when you’re in broad daylight and push the boundaries on a night out. You don’t seem to care that his friends stare at you every time you try to cover yourself up from a gust of wind or when you bend down. Sunghoon has probably seen your panties too many times.

He really doesn’t understand why all of these feelings are bubbling up. He’s seen you in bikinis and didn’t react like this. Sunghoon is confused but that doesn’t stop his dick from getting hard every time he pictures your outfits when he’s in the safety of his bedroom.

His favorite way to get off is by pushing his back against the bed frame and spreading his legs, holding his fist in a circle and he pumps himself up and down. Sunghoon pictures you riding him in one of your infamous mini skirts, looking up at the ceiling and imagining what you’d look like on top of him. He thinks about how he’d look down and the dirty affair would be covered by the fabric, as if thinking about fucking your best friend wasn’t weird.

Sunghoon is pulled back to reality when you squeeze his bicep in lieu of a greeting.

“Do you have our tickets?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. “Jesus, Y/N. You need to warn a guy before you creep up on them.”

“All I did was touch your arm!” His cheeks feel hot as you laugh. “Were you in deep thought, or something?”

His eyes flicker to the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you wear but scoffs, playing it off. “Nah. You’re as quiet as a mouse.”

“Well this mouse wants to go inside.”

You don’t wait for him to answer you. Sunghoon feels you tug him by the hand towards the security line in front of the concert venue. You’ve been a bit more physical with him lately, tugging on his arm and sifting your fingers through his hair whenever he’d lay his head on top of yours. He only ever means to for a brief second in the way friends do, but he hesitates to pull away once you tug at his roots.

The artist is a band you two discovered a few years back and he was in charge of buying the concert tickets for the both of you. Sunghoon sees the fruit of his labor pay off when you’re both standing inside after you both pass through security. The venue is crowded and small, but you’re sure everybody is too high out of their minds to notice people bumping into them anyway.

As the two of you walk closer towards the middle, it starts to get tighter. Sunghoon moves you in front of him and puts his hands on your waist to guide you and doesn’t mind that your arms are resting on top of his.

You don’t move away from him once you’ve joined others either. He noticed that you’re a bit shorter than everyone else around you. “Do you want to get on my shoulders during your favorite songs?”

“No, that’s okay. I want to dance.”

He looks down at your skirt. “Mhm, let me know if you change your mind.

The two of you wait until the show begins and you’re talking to him about how excited you are for tonight but all he can think about is how he could cop a feel if he really wanted to. The skirt you’re wearing provides him easy access to touch you but he refuses to act on his urges, often flexing his fingers to calm himself down.

Halfway through the show and everyone is having a great time. You’ve danced for an hour straight and feel your legs wobbling after jumping and screaming the lyrics to Sunghoon. He’s a bit taken aback when you rest your back against his chest but tries not to think too much into it.

But you stay like that for a while and he can feel the fabric of your skirt. He toys with it absentmindedly as he nods his head to the melody until he feels your legs tensing against him. When he looks down, your thighs are squished together.

Fuck. He wonders if you’re horny.

Sunghoon hooks his chin over your shoulder and peeks down below to where his hands graze the hem of your mini skirts. When you don’t motion for him to move away, he grunts when his hands start to disappear and moans directly in your ear when his fingers touch your panties. It’s only then does he realize how wet you are.

His other arm is secured over your waist and you grip onto him at the sudden contact across your blooming core. He swipes his index and middle fingers back and forth to gauge just how wet you’ve become, smearing it all over your panties. It brings a gasp out of you and he pushes his lap against your ass.

It’s too much and he’s too hard. Neither of you are paying much attention to the show anymore, too wrapped up in your own little world to focus on anything else. Sunghoon nearly moans out loud when he realizes you’re allowing him to hump you from behind.

“Are you trying to ruin this friendship?”

Sunghoon feels you nod against him and the two of you head out of the venue and into his car. He tries to keep it in his pants on the ten minute drive back to his apartment. You don’t fuss when Sunghoon shoves his hand between your legs and keeps rubbing over your pussy as he drives, one hand on the wheel while he plays with you. Your best friend bites his lip and tenses when arousal gushes out of you.

“Recline and open your legs wider, baby.” You do as he says and he pats your clit twice. “Good girl, listening to me like that.” He switches his ministrations and brings his thumb to rub over your clit in back and forth motions. “Need to make sure you stay wet.”

And stay wet you do. You’re wet all the way home where he locks the two of you in his place until he’s dropping to his knees and pushing your chest against the wall. Sunghoon puts his face between your legs and licks up the arousal clinging to your panties while spreading your cheeks apart with his big hands, squeezing when you yelp.

He pulls the pathetic fabric aside and sticks his tongue into you, prying yourself open for his viewing. His warmth breath fans over your core and it has you pushing back against his face until his tongue licks you up in repeated motions.

Sunghoon doesn’t really care that he’s too horny for foreplay and neither do you, apparently, because when you hear sunghoon unzip his pants and take them off, you’re taking your panties off and taking your shoes off too. He grabs himself and aligns his tip with your hole before pushing all of himself inside.

You’re so wet. It’s so hot. He fucks you like he’s got enough stamina to last a lifetime and your tits bounce against the walls at the pace he’s set. He pulls back far enough that he nearly slips out every time but without fail, Sunghoon will make sure his dick stays wet the entire time you’re with him.

He pulls you back onto the couch with his cock still lodged inside of you, manhandling your body until he’s got you on his lap and your feet are placed by his knees. Sunghoon pushes his hips upwards and fucks you like this, balls slapping your clit with every thrust. He moans when you moan, the emptiness of his apartment filled up by erotic noises that only spur on his orgasm.

Your release triggers his. When he feels your cum seeping down onto the base, Sunghoon shoots his thick ropes into you but doesn’t stop thrusting. Albeit lazier and more random, he keeps his frantic pace and lets you dig your fingers into him while you wonder how your best friend made you cum so fast.

“Fuck!” you moan when Sunghoon pulls out just to push himself back in once he’s made your body lay in front of him.

“You’re so fucking sexy in these things.” He acknowledges the skirt by flipping the fabric with his fingers. Sunghoon doesn’t give you enough time to reply but you’re too busy moaning to care about the consequences anyway. “Wear them more often and I’ll fuck you like this every time.”

Since when is your best friend so good at dirty talk?!

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! xx

[gingerteafairy]

𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩 (𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Rumors start flying at the Heffley's chaotic family dinner, and what was once just a joke turned into the realest thing you’ve ever had.

tags n warnings: fluff, suggestive, no smut, f!reader, christmas party. word count: 1.4k

It was Christmas, and Rodrick Heffley kept banging on his drums like they were the only thing keeping him sane during that chaotic family dinner. Greg was off messing around with Rowley, and Rodrick couldn’t do a thing about it in the name of "holiday spirit." To make things worse, Heather Hills had rejected him two weeks before, and she was now a guest at the dinner. Meanwhile, his mom couldn’t stop dancing to those ridiculous Christmas songs, while his dad stood there, practically dying of embarrassment.

Sneaking through the door, you spotted Rodrick giving his best aggressive solo, admiring how talented—and pissed—he could be, just like the goofy kid he was. You knew him from music class, and you couldn’t help but fall in love with the way he played. You definitely had a thing for drummers—it was obvious with all the school crushes and band posters you had. But Rodrick was different. He wasn’t your average rockstar; he was a cute, emo boy trying to look dark and mysterious, and that made you smile.

"Escaping the party?" you asked, leaning against the doorframe, the clinking of plates filling the air.

Rodrick paused, lifting his hand to silence the drums. "What’d you say?" he asked, glancing over at you with a raised eyebrow, his ears still ringing from the loud music.

"Escaping the party?" You repeated, grinning as you stepped closer and plopped down on the small sofa in the garage.

"Yeah, that’s torture," he muttered, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he slid off his stool to sit next to you. The overwhelming scent of his cologne, too strong for someone his age, hit you like a wave. You tried not to wrinkle your nose.

"I agree. My parents won’t stop saying embarrassing stuff about me, and my little sister’s acting all sweet like she’s not the literal spawn of Satan," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Don’t you just hate that?" He chuckled, crossing his left leg and settling more comfortably on the couch. "Younger siblings…"

"It’s like their job," you laughed, adjusting your oversized sweater to make yourself more comfortable.

"How'd you escape the sweater curse?" you asked, genuinely curious.

Rodrick grinned proudly. "I told my mom that if I wore a sweater, I’d torture the guests with a live band performance and body odor." He leaned back, clearly pleased with himself.

"Ugh, I wish I could pull that off. I’m stuck wearing this ridiculous thing," you sighed, leaning your elbows on your knees and propping your chin in your hands.

To be honest, Rodrick thought you looked kinda cute in that sweater two sizes too big, but there was no way he was gonna admit that out loud. Pfft, a rockstar liking a sweater?

"I think you look cute," he whispered, breaking every rockstar rule just to get a smile out of you.

"Thanks," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush a little.

"Hey, how ‘bout we go to my room and listen to something that’s not this Santa nonsense?" Rodrick suggested, standing up abruptly. "I mean… if you want, of course. Not like it’s mandatory or anything. I don’t wanna force you to do anything…"

"I’m in." You grinned, standing up and stretching. "But, uh, how do we get past all those people?"

Rodrick rolled his eyes dramatically, a grin playing on his lips. "Pfft. Relax. I’ve got the perfect plan."

"And what’s this brilliant plan, Heffley?" You crossed your arms and tilted your head, raising an eyebrow.

"Simple. We run." He grabbed your hand and tugged you along, sprinting from the garage, through the living room, and up the main staircase, weaving through all the older relatives and kids in the room.

"Rodrick!" Susan shouted from across the room, causing you both to freeze mid-step, caught like deer in headlights.

"Great plan, huh?" you muttered, narrowing your eyes at him, turning to see Mrs. Heffley glaring at you both from the bottom of the stairs.

"What do you think you're…" She stopped mid-sentence, her gaze dropping to your joined hands, and a sly smile spread across her face.

"Oh, no. Mom, it’s not what you think," Rodrick stammered, quickly letting go of your hand to take a step down.

"Uh-huh." She held up a hand to stop him, her eyes flicking back and forth between you two, pausing to focus on how red your face had become. "I know exactly what my little darlings are up to. Why didn’t you tell me you brought your girlfriend for Christmas, Rodrick? This makes me so happy."

"Girlfriend?" You both said at the same time, exchanging a look.

"Everyone, come here! Greg, Manny, sweetie, I’ve got great news!" Susan called, skipping happily toward the living room.

"Let’s go," Rodrick said, practically dragging you down the hallway, slamming the door shut behind you both. He wedged a chair under the doorknob to make sure no one would burst in.

"Wow, I almost died back there," you laughed, placing a hand over your chest and walking backward until you collapsed onto his bed, your feet swinging off the side.

Rodrick ruffled his hair in a slightly awkward manner before lying down next to you, his long legs hanging off the side of the bed. "Damn, sorry about that... my mom..."

"It’s fine," you reassured him, glancing up at the ceiling. "She and my mom are probably still talking about it."

"Yeah. You being my girlfriend," he teased, rolling his eyes.

"Girlfriend. Can you imagine? What a joke," you laughed, staring at him, your gaze lingering on his dark eyeliner. His eyes were so beautiful, so expressive.

"It’s a joke. Girlfriend…" he repeated quietly, his gaze softening as he took in your face. You were so beautiful, so real, so...

Before he knew it, his lips were on yours in a desperate kiss, his hand finding its way to your waist, which you immediately responded to, your fingers tangled in his hair.

It felt perfectly right. His lips were soft, and you tasted just right. The way your bodies fit together, the way your tongues danced together, and how his hands knew exactly where to touch you. It was awkward, sure, but that was what made Rodrick special—everything he did was so real.

The kiss broke, and you both stared at each other, neither of you needing to say a word to know that you should have done this much sooner. But then, your laughter broke the silence, a burst of awkward giggles that filled the room.

"I’m such an idiot," Rodrick laughed, his body shaking with the movement, and you couldn’t help but laugh along. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket by the fire.

"You are. What even was that?" you said, still laughing, the sound echoing between you two.

"I don’t know. But I liked it," he admitted, stopping his laughter for a second to look into your eyes, his expression soft.

"I liked it too," you smiled, leaning in for another hug, the warmth of his embrace pulling you closer. "But I think we just made a rumor come true."

"Damn, it’s true," he muttered, biting his lip to stifle the next burst of laughter, which escaped when you smiled again. "How about we keep this rumor going for a bit, until we’re actually boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"Rodrick Heffley wants to be my boyfriend?" You teased, and he couldn’t resist pinching your cheeks.

"Maybe," he replied, his voice a little unsure, but hoping for the best in return.

"I do too. Maybe. Want to be your girlfriend," you said, giving him a sly smile.

"Cool."

"But I think we should leave the room before we start another kind of rumor," you giggled, gesturing toward the door. "You know... that kind."

"I wouldn’t mind if the rumor was true," he teased, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe before focusing on your mouth, and then your eyes.

"I wouldn’t mind either," you whispered, your eyes falling on his lips. And that was enough for Rodrick to do what he did best—go in for another kiss. That night, you both made sure to live up to all the Christmas rumors that might swirl around the table, especially when you came back wearing that worn-out sweater, messy hairstyle and Rodrick had eyeliner that clearly belonged to someone with a lot more experience. Yeah, for the first time, you were grateful rumors existed.

@bernardsbendystraws divider

@ikkyfics this one is for you honey

[zerobaselove]

zb1 reaction to you getting dressed up ♡

pairing: zb1 x reader

genre: fluff mostly?

warnings: some swearing in gunwook's, kind of suggestive in matthew's, some mentions of feminine styled clothing throughout some scenarios lowercase intended, not proofread

notes: i got so fucking carried away with hao's im SORRY... i also wrote half of these like weeks ago so you can definitely tell there is a difference between some of them but its FINE im sorry for being so ia work is kicking my ass </3

jiwoong ;

"are you ready?" jiwoong's light squeeze of your hand pulled you from your thoughts and back to the surreal reality you were living. it was your first time joining your boyfriend, jiwoong, on the red carpet for a film premiere, and to say you were anxious was an understatement. what if you looked bad? what if you said something stupid or what if the paparazzi thought you were a waste of their time, and footage. what if you embarrassed yourself, or worse, jiwoong.

as if the man could sense your nerves, he grabbed your chin gently to make you face him. "you're gonna do great, i promise." he planted a kiss on your temple, "and you look gorgeous, in case you needed the reminder."

it was all a bit of a blur; getting out of the car and immediately being bombarded with camera flashes and calls of your names. they wanted to see your face, and yet you could barely take your eyes off the floor, too worried that you would stumble. the only thing keeping you sane was jiwoong's arm around your waist, guiding you down the cherry red carpet lined with smiling faces. they were all smiling at you two.

once you had made it to the photo zone you had started to feel a bit better. the compliments thrown your way had helped ease the remaining worries, along with jiwoong's words as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. "look, they love you," he shifted his weight, posing slightly for the camera before leaning down briefly again, " i love you."

in another blur of flashes, you had ended up at the door of the building, the end of the red carpet. jiwoong removed himself from your side for the first time that night, rushing ahead to get the door for you.

"jiwoong," you giggled, "i could've gotten the door on my own." he simply shook his head, ushering you in before returning his arm to your waist, "looking like that? it's the least i could do," he took another glance at the designer dress hugging your skin in a way he was sure inspired some of the greatest renaissance paintings, "i should be kissing the ground you walk on."

you let out a chuckle at the dramatic antics of your boyfriend, "just kiss me instead." and so he did.

zhang hao ;

to say you were bored would be an understatement right now. you were happy for your sister getting married, there was no question of that, but being the little sibling meant you didn't really have anyone to hang out with at the wedding, with the guestlist being 50% family you either didn't recognize, or didn't feel like spending the night with, and the other 50% being friends of your sister and her partner's own friends.

so here you stood, hugging the wall near the band, at least letting the music drown out some of the boredom and gossiping family. it was loud enough that you didn't hear when a person approached you, lightly tapping you on the shoulder. as you turned to face the stranger, you realized it wasn't a stranger at all. it was zhang hao.

he had always been a close family friend; the kind that you spent hours with in the pool as kids, the one that you were seatmates with in the 3rd grade. the one who went to a different highschool, and the one who eventually you only heard of through his accomplishments and conversations ending with "you could learn a thing or two from him." you missed him.

"hao!" you smiled at the familiar face, "what're you doing here?" you couldn't hide the confusion.

"well your sister invited my family, but she also hired me to play the violin for her reception!" he smiled sheepishly, hating the way it felt like bragging in front of his, unknown to you, childhood crush. to say he was struggling to keep it together right now was an understatement, but thankfully you seemed oblivious to his wandering eyes and stuttering words as you continued chatting.

as the night led on the dance floor had turned into drunk adults and their sober kids running around, chased by the designated babysitter of the night. "do you wanna get out of here?" hao offered, glancing around the room. you couldn't help the excitement at the offer, having been waiting for an out for a while now. "let's go."

the two of you had said your goodbyes, excusing yourselves for the night, some excuses of tiredness or early classes the next day; they didn't have to know it wasn't true.

and that's how the two of you ended up at a bingsu place, getting strange glances from other customers at your rather formal attire. but as the two of you laughed over your strawberry dessert, you couldn't care less what others thought of you, to you it was just the two of you in the room. and it seemed he felt the same way, because as you were leaving, he slipped his own hand into yours without saying a word.

the two of you walked in a comfortable silence for a moment, "has anyone told you how gorgeous you look tonight y/n?" he looked at you for a moment before stopping, still holding your hand as he waited for you to meet his eyes. "is this you telling me you think i look nice?" you giggled, trying to push your beating heart down, to no avail.

"it is," he smiled, leaning in slowly, "can i?" his eyes glanced between your eyes and your strawberry stained lips. realizing what he was asking, you didn't even nod before leaning in the rest of the way, placing a kiss on his lips. "is that a good enough answer?" you smiled, dragging him along the sidewalk as his cheeks flushed impossibly darker. maybe tonight wasn't so boring after all.

hanbin ;

"does this look alright?" you asked as you rounded the corner of the hallway, gesturing to your outfit that you had picked out for this last minute date.

"alright?" hanbin started, taking a moment to close his hanging jaw at the soft fabric that hugged your frame in all the right places. "you look perfect, my love." he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your lips, not even worrying about the gloss that would end up on his own.

despite the voice in your head telling you to ditch the date and just stay in with your lips attached to his, you pulled away, looking up at the boy with a small smile. "let's get going, handsome." you giggled as you headed to the front door, strapping on a pair of heels.

"i'll be just a second," he smiled, "you can take the keys and start the car." you hummed in approval as you grabbed the pair of car keys off the hook on the wall, the small hamster keychain making a faint clinking noise against the metal of the keys.

it wasn't long before hanbin had joined you in the car and your date had begun. hanbin couldn't seem to go more than a few minutes without letting his gaze wander over your frame or sending compliments your way. even now that you were sat on the hood of the car looking over the sunset, he couldn't help but observe you in all your beauty. "are you cold?" he asked softly, noticing your body shivering when the breeze picked up. you attempted to shake your head in assurance that you were alright, but before you could, the boy had disappeared.

moments later he reappears from behind the car, your favourite jean jacket and sneakers in his hand. "no need to be uncomfy this late into the night!" he beamed, draping the jacket over your shoulders as he knelt down to help you change out of the dressy shoes you had been walking around in all night.

"where did you pull these out of?" you smiled at the boy in front of you, tying your shoes as he hummed a tune. "i packed them before we left, what did you think i was doing when i told you to get in the car?" he giggled, standing up in front of you, settling into the space between your legs. "sung hanbin," you breathed out, grabbing the collar of his shirt lightly and planting a kiss on his lips, "i love you."

matthew ;

“c’mon slowpoke,” your boyfriend teased, swinging around the corner into your shared bedroom as you were putting on the finishing touches of jewellery. you chuckled as you muttered a small rebuttal, the teasing remark seemingly falling on deaf ears as he made his way towards you. his hands snaked around your waist as he pulled you flush to his figure, only briefly making eye contact through the mirror before burying his head in the crook of your neck. “matt,” you sighed, trying to keep your composure as you could feel his breath ghost over the tops of your collarbones, “don’t start something you can’t finish.” you warned lightly, sensing the smirk on his lips as he breathed out a response. “you know finishing is never a problem,” the sound on your skin nearly sent shivers down your spine. your hand came up to run through his hair, lightly tugging on the strands between your fingers, “this is your reunion you know? wouldn’t wanna show up late.” you tried to convince him, and yourself, that the event was worth giving up the path this could lead down. he only hummed in discontent, reluctantly pulling away, his hands still wrapped around the small of your waist. “how am i supposed to let everyone else see you all dressed up like this.” he whined, linking your hands, still in front of the mirror, unable to pull his eyes off you, in all your beauty. “my perfect baby.” you couldn’t help but shake your head, which only caused the boy to spin you around to face him. “y/n, i mean it when i say this,” he pressed his lips to yours, “you are the most beautiful person i’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing,” another kiss connected the two of you, “and i am so god damn lucky to call you mine.” his smile was wide, this time pressing a kiss to your temple, “now let’s get going, don’t wanna be late.”

taerae ;

“you must be taerae!” you smiled, watching as the man you had been messaging for the last week walked towards you, seemingly more handsome than in the pictures on his dating profile. “and you must be y/n!” his smile mirrored yours, a deep dimple appearing on his face; the cherry on top of his already perfect looks. his hair was parted just off centre, his brown hair in combination with the tan plaid jacket he wore made him seem so welcoming and rather soft; like a teddy bear. he took in your outfit, a sleek and well fitting outfit, as if made just for you. a stark contrast from the outfits you typically wore, the ones in the pictures he had seen. it wasn’t a bad difference, but now he wasn’t sure how to even form coherent thoughts and sentences, let alone attempt to impress you on this first date. “would you like to head in?” he managed to stutter out, his nervousness becoming more apparent. “i’d love to,” you giggled as he opened the door, gesturing you in like you were royalty. “why thank you kind sir.” the two of you were a giggling mess as you walked into the restaurant. the two of you were escorted to your seat soon after, making small talk as you glanced over the menus in front of you. the conversation between the two of you flowed seamlessly, floating from topic to topic, only stopping to order. as the night went on, the two of you kept finding yourself erupting in laughter and beaming smiles as you found more and more in common; even your humour was well suited for each other. you almost forgot how nervous you were for the date, feeling more comfortable around him by the second. he couldn’t help but feel the same, despite the lingering stutter if he looked at the colour of your lipstick too long, or the way your eyes seemed to glimmer in the light shining on your table. in what felt like a blink of an eye, dinner was over and taerae was insisting that he would get the bill, despite your protests. “okay fine,” you lowered your head in defeat, “but that means i’m getting the next one!” you grinned, watching as the boys ace flushed a deep pink almost immediately. “next?” he stuttered out, trying to hide his joy at the prospect of another date. “unless you don’t want to go out again,” you teased. “no no!” he quickly objected, “i’d love to go out again.” you hummed with a smile, boldly reaching out to grab his hand as you exited the restaurant. “good! because i’d be quite disappointed if i never got to see you again.”

ricky ;

"ricky i can't wear this out, i'm going to ruin it!" you exclaimed from behind the bedroom door, loud enough for your boyfriend to hear you from where he sat in the living room. you had let ricky pick out your outfit for your date today, and he in typical ricky fashion, picked something that you were sure was worth more than the apartment you stood in, and it was white.

you could hear his laugh through the wall along with what you assumed was a shake of his head, "you'll be fine y/n, we are just going to the museum, i don't think anything will get you there." as if sensing your argument, he continued, "and if you do ruin it, we will get you a new one, okay? now show me my masterpiece!"

you couldn't help but shake your head at the response, what a ricky thing to say, you thought to yourself. but alas, you ran a brush through your hair one more time, spraying your favourite perfume and straightening out the clothes before opening the door.

it wasn't often you had seen your boyfriend stunned. as soon as his eyes found you, his phone was long forgotten on a couch cushion as he got up and slowly walked towards you, jaw agape.

"you look amazing," his voice trailed off, taking in every feature individually, causing your face to flush, "you always say that ricky," you argued. but he was having none of that, "well it's not my fault you can pull off everything." his hands traced the neckline of the shirt, moving to your necklace and then the outline of your collarbones.

it was almost quiet, with the exception of the heartbeat pounding in your ears as he studied every feature, as if to memorize every detail to recall later. it felt like you were burning under his gaze as you stood there, close enough to see his chest rising and falling.

"almost just wanna keep you here all to myself," he mumbled, "but i need everyone to see how pretty my partner is," he turned himself back to the couch to grab his phone before motioning you over to the full length mirror in the hallway. his hand snaked around your waist, pulling you in front of him so he could take a picture of you two in the mirror.

it wasn't until later that you saw why he took it. the picture welcomed you when you clicked his instagram story, a romantic love song playing over the image along with the caption that made your heart skip a beat. "the absolute prettiest, and all mine."

gyuvin ;

“gyu, where are you?” you called into the quiet apartment as you let yourself in with the spare key he had given you. “coming!” he called out from down the hall, you could hear his feet shuffle along the floor, the boy soon appearing before you with a wide grin. “what brings you here, my love?” he asked, his gaze wandering down your figure, taking in your semi-formal attire, his jaw going slack. “take a picture love, it’ll last longer.” you winked, a smug smile plastering your face. before you could even continue to explain your plans for the day he had pulled you in by the waist, “don’t tell me you’re leaving after showing up looking like this,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck. “i was just stopping to drop off some snacks for you,” you giggled at the ticklish feeling of his breath on your neck, “was passing by on my way to my cousin’s graduation and thought i’d say hello.” his face finally pulled away from your neck, facing you with a smile and flushed cheeks, “well, hello,” he beamed, “now ditch the graduation, i miss you.” you chuckled, wrapping your hands around his neck, placing a kiss on his lips, “i have to go gyu, but i can come over after dinner, movie night?” he only whined, sadly nodding his head at the idea. “how am i supposed to sit here waiting until tonight knowing you look this pretty out there without me?” your hands started playing with the hair on the back of his neck, leaving his lips to part slightly at the feeling. “fine,” he whined, dragging out the vowels like they could stretch the time with you just a bit further, “but you better come back to see me after.” he pouted, reaching down to play with your fingers. “i pinky promise,” you smiled, “now i have to go or i’m going to be late,” you planted a kiss on his cheek, “and gyu?” you asked, halfway out the door. “yes my love?” “leave some snacks for me!”

gunwook ;

"please pick up, please pick up." you mumbled between your shallow breaths, your shaking fingers pressing the call button next to gunwook's name. the phone only rung once before your best friends voice came through the speaker, "what's up? aren't you supposed to be on a date?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "he stood me up," you sniffled, trying to put on a brave face, or voice, for the boy on the phone.

"oh i'll kill him," he muttered, "where are you?" he asked, you could hear him pulling his shoes and coat on over the phone. "i'm at that restaurant down by our boba spot, i'm walking home and just," your voice trailed off, why did you call him? "just wanted to hear your voice i guess." you concluded, so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't hear the door slam on gunwook's end.

the boy stayed on the phone with you, letting you rant as he stayed strangely quiet on the other end, but you didn't think much of it. that was until you saw a rather tall man running towards you, slowing down right in front of you. "hi" the simple phrase echoed between the phones and you nearly burst into tears at the sight of your best friend. you threw your arms around him and let the floodgates open.

his hands found their way around you, one rubbing your back gently as the other ran though your hair. "let it out, you're okay now." he kept repeating reassuring phrases as you babbled about how humiliated you felt. he just stood there comforting you, letting you have your moment in the middle of the sidewalk, illuminated by the streetlights lining the road.

"he's an idiot, y/n" he said calmly. you tried to argue, insisting that maybe you were the problem, maybe you weren't good enough, but that broke gunwook, and he wasn't about to let you say those lies about yourself.

"y/n, look at me," he pulled away, tilting your chin upwards to meet his eyes, "you are way too good for him, or for any man who would ever even consider hurting you or standing you up," he rambled on, "especially when you look like that." he gestured to you.

"look like what?" you questioned, just out of curiosity.

he shook his head, a blush creeping to his face, "like the person of my dreams, the most gorgeous and kind person to have walked the earth." you stood in shock for a moment, taking in the confession that you had been waiting years to hear, the confession that you thought would never come, and the reason you let yourself go on these dates with these shitty men.

"i like you." you blurted out, not even caring that this moment was accompanied by tear stains and running mascara. the boy smiled wide, "i like you too," he reached down to grab your hand, "so," he trailed off, "movie night at my place?"

"i would love nothing more."

yujin ;

"you really don't have to come y/n." your best friend yujin insisted, but you shook your head fervently, "and miss my best friend's graduation? funny joke yujin." you said sarcastically, "you got to come to mine so i get to go to yours, end of story."

and that you did. yujin's parents offered to let you join them, insisting you were like the daughter they never had. plus you loved chatting with his parents and little brother. "you look absolutely lovely today," yujin's mom said as you walked towards their car, a sheepish thank you leaving your mouth in response.

you got there just in time for the ceremony to start. soon enough yujin was being called up to the stage to receive his diploma. you and yujin's brother were doing the most, cheering and clapping to an almost obnoxious level while his parents held in a laugh as they took pictures of their oldest.

once the ceremony was over, yujin had found his way to you guys, greeting you with a light slap of the arm and a shy scolding for embarrassing him, causing all of you to erupt into laughter.

you all chatted together for a moment before you and yujin led into your own conversation. "who knew you had legs under those baggy jeans you always wear?" he laughed, now it was your turn to smack his arm lightly, "i dress up one time and this is what i get." you joked, shaking your head.

"you do look nice though," he continued, a genuine smile spreading across his face, and you smiled back. "you don't look to bad yourself, mr. high school graduate."

[peachsukii]

✿ fluff // ✩ comfort // ✶ angst // ♡ nsfw

— 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

✿✶ hollow heart ⇢  pro-hero!bakugo x pro-hero!reader (33k)

The dynamic duo of Dynamight and Deku are unstoppable, climbing the hero charts like they always dreamed of as kids. Reports have noted people going missing, specifically with rare quirks, and with plenty of other heroes being unavailable, you’re chosen to tag along with the duo for the night operation. Everything is going according to plan until the villain lands a surprise attack, resulting in the your kidnapping and whisking you away through a mysterious portal. It’s been a month since your disappearance with no help of the hero agency. Bakugo and Midoriya take it into their own hands and are determined to get you back - no matter how long or what it takes.

✿✶♡  ink & rhythm ⇢  music au: drummer!bakugo x artist!reader (2.4k)

Distortion is the hottest band in town, making waves in the underground scene with their unique sound. Led by your college best friend and music prodigy, Kyoka Jiro, alongside her misfit group of friends, they’ve been playing shows every weekend for the last few months and have gathered a decent following. You’re whisked into the whirlwind of their rockstar lives when Jiro commissions you to design a band logo for their merch, reconnecting with her and meeting the members of the band. Your eyes immediately gravitate to their powerful drummer, Katsuki Bakugo. Fresh out of a nasty three year on/off relationship, he’s not looking for anything or anyone while shutting out the world around him. He’s focused on the one thing that keeps him sane; music. You’re six months free of a breakup as well, looking to repaint your world with new colors and experiences, but turns out it’s more tumultuous than anticipated. Explosive fights, newfound fame, clashing egos, dive bars, stolen kisses, black out dreams, messy exes and hard lessons; but somehow, love finds a way to bloom like a flower in the desert - deep in the hottest, driest wasteland of two broken hearts.

✿✩ 50 first dates ⇢  movie au: marine vet!bakugo x art teacher!reader // 0.k

Katsuki is a dedicated marine veterinarian at Wavecrest Haven, rehabilitating native animals and living out his island life dreams to the fullest. The catch? He only dates tourists to avoid any serious commitments, easily able to bounce from one fling to the other without repercussion. That all changes when he’s forced to wait for a tow truck at a local café after his jeep breaks down, running into a beautiful art teacher sitting alone. He admires her from afar, assuming she’s local and not breaking his “No Locals” rule, only finding himself breaking that rule moments later. He asks to join her and they form an instant connection, agreeing to meet up the following morning for a breakfast date. There’s just one problem - she doesn’t remember anything about Katsuki the following day, insisting they’ve never met before.

✶♡ the knife in you brings out the life in me ⇢  movie au: college bakugo x reader (3.2k)

[ act one | two | three ] College life has been a breeze and you've got everything you've ever wanted — a hot boyfriend, decent grades and a circle of friends you wouldn't trade for the world. That perfect daydream is shattered when a student ends up murdered in their apartment off campus, and somehow, it all leads back to you.

— 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬.

✩ operation: shut down ⇢  senior year of UA (2.6k) Bakugo experiences his first ever “failure” on a supervised patrol during his senior year internship and you’re there to comfort him.

✿ accidental damage ⇢  pro-hero support!reader (2.8k) You’re looking forward to movie day with Bakugo when he gets called on patrol, so you go out shopping instead only to get caught in the middle of a villain attack.

♡ sticky heat ⇢  senior year of UA (3.1k) You & Bakugo are studying for senior year exams when you gets frustrated - he has the perfect solution.

♡  behind closed doors ⇢  bakugo x fem!reader x deku (2.0k) You come home to a surprise one night of Deku and Bakugo making out in your bed!

✿♡ unexpected treasure ⇢  pro-hero!bakugo x ex pro-hero!reader (2.9k) When Bakugo gets caught up in the office after his patrol, you decide to send him some spicy semi-nudes in your hero suit with one sentence - “bringing you a surprise, stay in your office.”

♡ insatiable ⇢  pro-hero!bakugo x pro-hero!reader (3.7k) Bakugo’s been away for an entire month on a mission and comes home early as a surprise, but little did he know just how much you missed him.

♡ cruel compulsions ⇢  senior year of UA (2.4k) As a new transfer from a neighboring hero academy to UA, class 3A welcomes you with open arms. You fit in with the class seamlessly, with the exception of one person - Katsuki Bakugo. He doesn’t give you the time of day, ignoring you any chance he gets since he views you as an “outsider.” At least, that’s what he projects and not how he truly feels.

✿ unbreakable bonds ⇢ no quirks au (3.0k) A collective of family bonding and little moments between you and Katsuki.

♡ on the rocks ⇢ pro-hero!bakugo (2.6k) Your week couldn’t get any worse. Between a screw up at work and getting dumped out of the blue, you needed to desperately let off some steam. Thank goodness the girls were more than happy to take you out for the night in the city and spoil you with a good time. Everything’s fine until you receive a text that spirals into an unpredicted hookup.

✿✩ this pain wouldn't be forever more. ⇢ support tech!reader (5.7k) It's your final year of UA High, an achievement that should be celebrated and joyous, but you couldn't believe just how much has changed in such a short amount of time. One thing you never thought you'd have to deal with is the potential of losing your best friend and being powerless to stop it.

♡✿ drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar ⇢ college AU (2.2k) It was one time…until it wasn’t. You and Bakugo were both single, what’s the harm in sleeping with your best friend?

♡ last updated: 10/25/24

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『 © peachsukii & zanarkandskylines on archive of our own — please do not steal, plagiarize, modify, translate or repost any of my content. Do not use my content for AI purposes. ♡ ���

[crescentbelle]

Liability

Miguel O’Hara x Fem Reader 

Angst

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: After a failed solo mission, Miguel’s punishment makes you feel as if you’ve become a liability.

finished this at 4am with my botchy Spanish skills so please forgive me.

It had been two weeks since your last fight, and equally two weeks since you had stepped foot out the careful watch of your boss, Miguel O’Hara. You weren’t given the luxury to mistake his hovering. His mindset was clear, you weren’t to be trusted.

One slip of a web was all it took, the anomaly you spent the last month tracking down slipped away, snatching your travel watch on the way out. You let the time pass crying out of frustration and being pushed down by a glitch each time you rose from the cracked pavement.

Maybe it was the amount of time it took for you to muster up the courage to tell Miguel you lost him again, or the fact that he then spent the next two days cleaning up the mess the escapee made. Either way, you had committed your biggest mistake since joining the famous group of vigilantes. Not that you could say their band together was infamous to any universe, but that’s what they were to you, and you had utterly failed.

One of Miguel’s star players had let him down, made a mistake so embarrassing to his reputation, that he couldn’t trust you outside his view. Banished to the filing of any and all reports that came through; that was the dignified job you took on. The only thing keeping you sane was to believe it was all just a humiliation tactic from his end, the more you fought against it, the more he succeeded. At this point you didn’t know what to think. The man barely spoke to you, even on his rarely chipper days.

Sat crossed-legged in a chair; you continued the boredom-striking task. Click drag. Click drag. You missed the moments when Hobie came to visit, the small times where you got genuine interaction and not awkward stares.

“you’re free to go now.”

Silence strung together with tension rose thick in the air. Will that ever fade?

He didn’t turn to look at you, his broad frame still turned to his own screen, eyes cold and cruel as ever. God, he really did find you pathetic after this one.

A beat passed. You always wondered if you should thank him, but that just seemed stupid. Thank you so much Mr. Miguel O’Hara for another silent day stuck at your brooding side. You chose the silent approach, slowly uncurling from your awkward position.

Making your way to the door, you heard him call on Lyla, muttering about a mission he needed to put another man on, one that wasn’t you.

“Just take her name off as an option, I don’t want her out right now.”

The words broke you down, weirdly in a way that no other snide comment from the man had before. Since you arrived all you strived for was the acknowledgment of your skills, to show you could become useful. Now, it feels like the rug had been pulled from under you. How long until you get sent back home? How long until Miguel admits you have become a liability?

Please just say anything else, anything so I know you don’t hate-

Miguel calls your name, sharp and devoid of any readable emotion.

“you’ve forgotten your day pass. That’s the second time this week.”

You gritted your teeth, “Thank you.”

“Try not to do that again, you’re glitching has gotten worse.”

That was it, The final stroke. Storming forward, you swipe the scanner off the desk, cheeks burning red with emotion. “You don’t have to scold me like I’m a child, Miguel.”

“Trust me, I know I don't.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not doing this right now, you can leave.” 

Beat. 

“It was one mistake! How does that constitute shunning me away?” Your body was hot, a magma bubbling into adrenaline. With a racing heart, you refused to back down. Everyday sitting in his office like a lap dog for all your friends and accomplices to watch, you couldn’t take it.

The man’s shoulders stiffen, his body toughening to a cold, ridged stance. Slowly, his gaze fell onto you. There they were, those piercing eyes.

That silent tension melted into something thicker and harder to hide from, fear. Fear that radiated off you in waves he could sense like a strike to the face.

“You don’t get to make those choices,” His voice spoke as a mutter, like he was hiding a seething tone from slipping out. “You don’t get to tell me how I choose to keep you safe.”

“You don’t get to talk about me like I’m not right here! I’ve always been on top of things- ever since I got here. Why do I slip up once and you get to treat me like I’m in idiot? Am I that humiliating for you?”

Beat. This one is too long, his eyes shift for just a moment, caught between thoughts. It’s a second of weakness that makes you apprehensive.

“I’m not letting you on any more missions.”

No-

“You’re sending me back.”

He shakes his head, dejected. “No, I’m not- just shit. Please don't make this harder than it has to be. For your sake.”

“Are you kidding me? You're asking me to never fight again!”

“Please-”

You take another step forward. “You’re asking me to throw away what I was built for! This is my meaning, why are you doing this to me?”

With the confidence he had left to muster up, Miguel stalked over to your frame. This was the closest you had been since he picked you up out of the alleyway you pathetically collapsed in, and the desperate feeling followed. To beg and kick like a child until he let you back in. It felt horrific and you wondered if he felt it too.

“I cant help it. Por favor, no te quiero lastimar. Please don't make me risk you again.” His hand moved up, close enough to your cheek that it makes your senses tingle, before its dropped down to his side again. “Please.”

“You’re hurting me.”

Beat.

With what feels like an instant, you’re being pulled into his chest. his broad arms caught you in his embrace, a hand coming to rest against your temple. Its simple, but it makes your heart ache. Never have either of you come this close. This is that desperate feeling bubbling up again.

You wonder if you should have pushed away; told him he's pathetic and walked away from this cryptic language you now share. But you cant anymore, not with his touch like this.

“I’m sorry.” The mumble of his words reverberated through your body like a purr. 

A single drop of a hot liquid hits your forehead and manages to roll down onto his thumb. You scan up to his face. That stoic stare he managed to always hold stood strong, staring off into a void like there's something better to worry about. But his eyes watered and the trail of a tear glimmered on his pronounced cheek. 

He guided your head back down to lay against him again and moved his gaze to the side, anywhere to avoid the way you look at him now.

“Don't leave, okay?”

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k words

warnings: explicit language, brief mention of alcohol/drinking, pining, a little angst

summary: steve meets you at eddie’s show and even though you’re feeling a little weird and nervous about what you two are doing, you ultimately decide that there’s a first time for everything

CHAPTER THREE | ❝𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅❞

Fall Semester 2015

Eddie was good. Like, really good.

So good that you had to keep reminding yourself to not ogle at his hands on the guitar, seamlessly moving from chord to chord, or focus too hard on the almost too pretty sound of his voice. 

You silently wondered— as he and his band finished out the last few moments of the song they were rehearsing— if you would be feeling this way as you watched him practice if you didn’t have the biggest crush on him. Or maybe this would’ve ended up being the moment you realized everything, instead of that moment happening in his dorm room just a few weeks ago.

You still hadn’t decided how to tell him, you also still weren’t sure if you even wanted to tell him at all. If you said something and he didn’t feel the same way, you had a feeling that it would mess everything up between you and him, and ultimately ruin this friendship that felt so important to you. 

Therefore, you were leaning more toward never telling him how you felt, or at least waiting for the perfect moment to do so. However, you didn’t know what would necessarily deem a moment as “perfect.” Maybe one day it would just feel right to finally utter the words to him? You weren’t entirely sure. 

For the time being, you pushed those confusing thoughts to the side, and in this moment you simply focused on the final notes of the song being played out, marking its end, and then Eddie placing his guitar down. 

“You guys are really good,” You said from where you sat barely five feet away because of how small the garage was; you couldn’t remember if this was Gareth’s place, Jeff’s, or Doug’s. “Like, really, really good. It’s actually kind of insane.” 

Eddie smiled at you. “I think you’re our number one fan now.”

“I feel honored to hold that title.”

He walked over to where you were sitting. “You wanna come with me to get the pizza?”

His question was one that you didn’t need to outwardly respond to because the answer was obvious. You simply nodded as you stood up from your chair and walked with him to his van. 

You’d go anywhere with Eddie— and that fact was the main reason why you were currently spending your Saturday in his hometown two hours away from your guys’ college, instead of holed up in the library studying for midterms. 

“I think I get it,” You said, gazing out the window as he drove and watching the small empty fields and random houses pass by in a blur. 

“Get what?”

“Why you wanted to leave here,” You answered, turning to look at him even though his eyes were focused on the road. “It’s so small and quiet. I honestly can’t even imagine you growing up here.”

“There was a record store across town that I really loved, and it was probably the only thing that kept me sane growing up,” He briefly explained and you nodded. “And my uncle. And the guys too. We’ve been doing the whole band thing since middle school.”

The thought of an eleven year old Eddie singing and playing guitar sounded quite adorable to you. 

“That’s so cute.”

Eddie laughed. “Cute was not what we were going for.”

“Sorry, what I meant to say was, that’s so cool and rock ‘n roll.” 

“Solid save.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You have to take me to your hometown next,” He said, taking a brief look over at you as he kept driving. 

You shook your head. “Definitely not gonna happen, and not just because we’d have to take a two hour plane ride to get there.”

“Come on, I brought you here.”

Just for a second, you let yourself think about the suburban town you grew up in states away; a town that you also couldn’t wait to get out of because, just like Eddie’s, it felt way too quiet and small. You tried to briefly imagine him walking down the streets you used to walk to get to school or the park that you had liked to spend most of your free time at reading, but you couldn’t see it. You could barely even see yourself doing any of that anymore. 

“This is different. You want to come here,” You told him. “Aside from my parents, and that’s only sometimes, there’s nothing that makes me wanna go back to my hometown.”

You tried your hardest not to think about how actually saying that out loud made you feel a little sad. 

“So, no band with old friends that makes you wanna go back most weekends?” Eddie asked, purposefully trying to lighten the mood, which you were grateful for. 

You gave him a small smile. “Nope, none of that.” 

That was why you liked him, he read you well and knew the right moments to shift any conversation. 

There was a part of you that wanted to just admit to him how you felt right there in his van. Let the words leave your lips and simply see what would happen. 

But then he was pulling into the parking lot of the pizza place and the moment felt effectively over. And a part of you was glad for that. 

It wasn’t that difficult to pretend that nothing had changed for you and that you still only saw him as your best friend. You honestly found pretending to be the easiest thing to do. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

“Robin just texted me saying, “Tell Eds I’m there in spirit. When in actuality my spirit is dead because this essay is killing me.” So yeah, she’s not coming tonight.”

“Damn, so that means I won’t hear her overenthusiastic “woo’s” after we finish every song.” 

You playfully smiled at Eddie. “I can take over that job for the night if you want.”

“That would be great,” He responded, smiling back. “We need to prove that we have at least one excited fan.”

“Okay, then I’ll make sure to take my job as your number one fan very seriously tonight,” You told him before taking a sip from your drink and then placing it back atop the high wooden table you two were standing on opposite sides of that was a bit wobbly. “I swear we always somehow end up at this specific table.”

“Either that, or they’re all fucked up.” 

“True,” You said and nodded, but you had a feeling that it was probably the same one because you and everyone always ended up occupying the same cluster of tables that were to the right of the small stage— a stage that was currently set up because he was performing in less than twenty minutes. 

You had shown up with Eddie and the rest of the band an hour earlier; which was pretty much a routine when it came to the biweekly gig Corroded Coffin had here. Aces was one of the few bars in town that was actually not frequented by college kids because they were really strict about their carding policies and could spot a fake ID from a mile away. However, Rick, the owner, loved Eddie and the band, so exceptions were made for them; and by extension you and your other friends too.  

You texted Robin back “Your screaming will be missed<3,” and then got a notification for a text from Steve that said, “Just parked.”

“Um, Steve just got here, so I’m gonna go out and grab him.”

“Okay,” Eddie said and then shook his head in what seemed like both disbelief and surprise. “I still can’t believe how good Friday night went for you two.” 

“Yeah, I’m surprised too. I didn’t expect this to happen,” You told him, which technically wasn’t that much of a lie. You really hadn’t expected that night to lead to you fake dating Steve barely a day later. 

The cold night air immediately hit you when you walked outside, even the jacket you were wearing wasn’t enough to keep you warm, so you crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for Steve. You were suddenly glad that you opted against wearing a skirt tonight and decided to settle on a pair of jeans. 

It was a solid three minutes of you looking both ways down the street and waiting for Steve to eventually come into view. And when he finally did, you met him halfway. 

“Jesus, how far did you park?” 

“Way too far.”

Steve fell into step with you as you walked back to the front door. You noticed him look up at the faded sign that had the bar’s name on it and then it seemed as if he realized or remembered something. “Aren’t they really strict at this place?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine,” You answered with a quick shrug before grabbing his hand to keep him close to you as you walked past the small-ish line of people waiting to get their ID checked and get into the bar. You gave a quick smile to Jacob, the bouncer and also Rick’s brother, who was letting you through with no hesitation. “Thanks, Jacob.”

Steve let out a breath of a laugh once you two were fully inside the small and darkly lit bar. “Okay, that was actually pretty cool.” 

You were about to respond to him with some playful joke about how getting into this place both for free and without an ID was probably the coolest thing about you, but then your eyes were on Eddie. He was saying something to the guys as they headed over to the packed bar and then he was left alone at the haphazardly pushed-together tables. Suddenly, you felt nervous and also a bunch of other things that were entirely indecipherable at the moment. 

You turned to look at Steve. “Okay, so, um, how thick are we laying it on right now?”

Instead of answering your question, he seemed to sense your nervousness, so he gave your hand that was still holding his a quick squeeze. “Just chill. Don’t worry.” 

That honestly didn’t do anything to calm your nerves or make you not worried about what you two were about to do. But, it was also weird because even though you were nervous, you didn’t want to back out of doing it. 

“Where is he?” Steve asked.

You simply nodded in the direction of the table Eddie was standing at. 

“Okay, come on,” He said and as you two walked over to the table, he readjusted your hands so that they were intertwined, which made holding hands with him feel a thousand times more intimate. And that was probably exactly why he did it, you realized. 

“Hey,” He greeted Eddie with a smile. 

“Hey, man,” Eddie responded. “Cool seeing you here.”

“Yeah, glad I can finally catch a show.” 

You stopped paying attention to what they were saying, and it wasn’t really on purpose, it was just that all you could focus on right then was Steve’s subtle movements— his hand pulling away from yours and him shifting closer to you so that he could drape his arm around your shoulders instead. He was so smooth and easy with it, meanwhile you were contemplating if you seemed too tense or if your face looked uncomfortable. 

Maybe some practicing would’ve been good before jumping into the deep end of this whole thing. But, what would practicing have even entailed? Steve holding your hand or keeping his arm around you until you felt completely normal about it? That sounded almost too embarrassingly stupid. 

He had done pretty much the same things Friday night on your date— you remembered him holding your hand and wrapping an arm around you during the movie and feeling entirely okay about it; he had even kissed you that night and initially, you had been completely okay before you got too in your head about everything— but this, for obvious reasons, felt entirely different. The point now was to look super into it, and you felt yourself slowly folding under the pressure. 

“Did you tell him about game night?” 

It took you a second to realize Eddie was talking to you because your mind was in an entirely different place right then. You barely even heard the question he asked you. 

“Yeah, she did,” Steve said, saving you. “I’ll be there.” 

“Great, we’ll actually have even teams for once,” Eddie said to you.  

“Talia’s gonna hate that. She loves being referee,” You responded, finally finding your voice and actually managing to feel the tiniest bit normal for a moment. 

“No, she won’t because she’s gonna have the best Pictionary player on her team.” 

You rolled your eyes at that because you knew he was referring to himself. “Vickie is the best at Pictionary, actually.” 

“Okay. Second best.”

“I think Robin’s second, but you’re definitely third because me and Talia are equally bad at that game.”

“Fine, I’ll take third,” Eddie responded. “Unless Harrington here has a secret talent?” 

Steve shook his head. “No, I’m terrible at drawing.” 

Eddie smiled at that. “You two will make a great team then.” 

“I think our bad drawing skills will cancel each other out and we’ll actually end up being really good,” You said, mostly kidding with your words.  

“Or we’ll be worse,” Steve said. 

“It’s very sad to see that you have no faith in us,” You joked, looking up at him, and he only laughed in response.

He and Eddie went into talking about an assignment for the class they had together, and you attempted to pay attention to their conversation, but your mind went right back to overthinking everything. You wondered whether or not things looked real or if it all seemed entirely forced and out of place. 

Steve was doing pretty much all of the work right then at making this newfound relationship look believable, and your only job was to pretend that you were happy to lean into his touch and to make it seem like you were at least a little enamored by him, which was easier said than done. You were now discovering that acting wasn’t your strong suit. 

They continued talking for the next minute or two before Eddie was saying that he needed to head on stage. “I’ll see you guys after.”  

You nodded and said a simple “Good luck,” and then he walked away, joining Gareth, Jeff, and Doug on stage. You let out a breath that you didn’t even know you’d been holding. 

“You okay?” Steve asked once Eddie was out of earshot. His arm dropped from around you, but he still stayed close. “I know we shook hands on it and everything, but we really don’t have to do this. It’s fine if you wanna back out.”

“No, I’m okay. I just didn’t expect this to feel so weird? I don’t know if that’s the right word, but yeah… I swear I’m fine, though, I’ll get better at,” You briefly gestured between you and him. “This whole thing.”

The last time you were so outwardly physically affectionate with someone was years ago; a high school relationship that ended just as quickly as it had started. You weren’t used to this anymore, and maybe it was dumb to think that it would be easy to do it, especially with someone you didn’t really even know that well.

“We don’t have to do this,” Steve reminded you.  

“No, I want to. Honestly,” You assured him, and surprisingly that still felt mostly true.

“When’s game night?”

“Tomorrow,” You answered, forgetting that that had been brought up in the conversation with Eddie. “It’s a once-a-month thing we do at the apartment.”

“Got it,” He said with a nod.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t wanna. It’s mainly just three hours of all of us screaming at each other,” You briefly explained. “That’s the reason why we only do it once a month. Friendships would be ruined if we made it a weekly thing.”

“Sounds deadly.” 

“Very much so.” 

“Also, sounds fun.”

You let out a laugh. “Didn’t peg you for a masochist, Steven.” 

He ignored that. “Do you want me to come tomorrow?” 

You took a moment to actually consider his question. Everyone else was gonna have to meet him eventually, especially if you wanted to make it seem like you “really liked him,” so maybe it would be best to just rip off the band-aid and do the introductions sooner rather than later. 

“Yeah, I do,” You ultimately answered. “You should come. I think it’ll be good.” 

Before he could even say anything in response, the band started playing and every conversation happening in the small bar became drowned out by the music. You bopped your head and softly sang along to the songs you knew, which were pretty much all of them aside from a few new covers they decided to do. And you, of course, loudly applauded and excitedly shouted after every song, just like you told Eddie you would. 

“Wow,” Steve said at one point, mouth close to your ear so that you could hear him over the music. “It’s so obvious that you like him. I honestly didn’t think it was possible to witness heart eyes in real life.”  

You playfully nudged him. “Shut up.” 

You had a feeling that he was mostly joking with his words, but still, you couldn’t help but think, Did it really look that obvious? 

You turned to look at Steve and were about to ask him what exactly looked so obvious and how was he so easily able to notice something that Eddie somehow never had. 

However, you immediately noticed that his attention was on a girl across the bar who was looking right back at him with a matching smile on her face. 

“Keep it in your pants tonight, Harrington,” You told him, elbow bumping his side again. “And until the end of February too.” 

“I know. Sorry,” Steve said, looking away from the girl and back at the stage.

“Y’know, I was mostly joking last night when I said that not dating anyone this month would probably be hard for you. But, now seeing that it actually is hard for you, I’m just concerned. There are tons of support groups that you can join to help with this problem,” You said, trying your hardest to keep a straight face as you said your words, but ending up smiling the entire time. 

“Ha ha,” He said sarcastically, which only made you smile more. 

You focused back on Eddie, listening as he said that he was about to perform what would be the last song of the night. You shouted happily in anticipation and smiled at him when his eyes met yours. 

Once again, you couldn’t help but wonder, Was it obvious?

At some point during that final song, Steve placed an arm around you again, and it surprisingly didn’t feel all too weird that time around. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki

[therealslimshakespeare]

Four Weeks in New York

gorgeous gif credit to @violaobanion

Requested: ☑️

Warnings: SO. MUCH. SEX. 18+, reunion jitters, potentially out of character actions due to rough sex? but then again, they’ve missed each a lot other, ok?! Also, i dunno, but beware he’s a horny over thinker and he’s in a funny headspace due to, ya know, war. Jean is a champ, Harry can’t manage to blow a load for awhile, mild breeding kink if you wanna call purposefully making a baby that…Gerry Hamilton and Margaret Blakely make tiny little cameos in here and I swear I’m half thinking of writing this trio of women all giggling over their legendary husbands

Word count: a hefty 7k and we’ve got more coming for ya

Coauthored with m’baby @crazymadpassionatelove

Synopsis: Harry Crosby is sent stateside to be with his wife for a month of terribly needed R&R in the summer of 1944

Caveat: this is based off a portrayal of real people in a tv series, while Jean wasn’t represented by an actress as Harry was, in this price of media I intend the same. I mean no disrespect to the real men and women mentioned and dramatized herein.

Scene One:

Jean had been at it so long in front of the mirror she began to notice every grain of powder collected in her smile lines and every infinitesimal blur of strong coal from around her eyes and -she needed to step away, at least a few inches from the reflective glass and get a grip. At the more sensible distance of gripping onto the edge of the counter -marble and swanky like everything in this posh and paid for hotel- she saw her face restored to what it was, a pretty decent cutie’s with a perfect mask of makeup and freshly styled hair: fit for a homecoming.

It was going to be fine. She was going to be fine. She was going to need to make him fine again, and give him back to them strong enough to come back to her for good. Happiness and dread swirled in a gnawing cocktail inside her, the cruel thought of almost wishing not to be teased with him at all until she could keep him for good fighting with the braver parts of herself that wanted every second of him she could have, even if it had a big red finish line drawn at a month.

A month was a long time, a month was about all they’d had to be married before he left. Technically, or at least Jean wondered if technically, it would mean she’d only been fully “married” for two months. Of course that was nonsense to the general public and the pastors who reminded about vows and the wedding band she flashed at over eager servicemen, but to her select little girl gang, the ones who worked at the factory with her and who had to give up their husbands too- they talked about their brief marriedness with hushed and giggly fondness, like something out of a dream and just as brief.

The fiancés in the girl gang were jealous of this topic and Jean supposed they had a right to be. She indulged the innocents with all their questions about being “actively” married, tried to repay them with the same frankness she’d so desperately sought before her wedding. But as it was, she’d only had a month of active service, and while it had been spent as vigorously as any young couple’s first four weeks of legal license, it had left Jean in the interim with a plain impression of herself being a little bit of a hussy.

She wanted Harry so badly this past year since he’d gone she hardly thought it medically sane. Wanted him so badly, and that was something not even the girl gang could always bring themselves to titter about. It was one thing for Margaret Blakely to joke about her Ev coming back the previous month ‘taking’ his leave in more ways than one, but they weren’t often out here asking each other if nothing really fixed the hunger since their man had been gone. It was all Jean thought of. Jean wanted to ask if it ever cooled, if the sticky frustration with one’s own inadequate fingers ever subsided.

By the dreamy eyed state of the recently visited Mrs. Blakely, the answer appeared to be a resounding no. Nothing ever beat the real thing. And that made Jean want to writhe in frustration before learning that she too, would be visited by a on-leave husband.

A year of being married and only a month of it “active”, Jean had concluded it was a chronic case on her part of salivating need for her Bing, the only cure would be him -him inside her, in perpetuity. All she’d gotten out of Maragret had been a grinning warning to Jean to “get in shape for Major Crosby’s furlough, you’ll spend it on your back.”

Jean could freely admit to herself that she needed to be ripped apart by her man, she needed him lingering inside her when he left again. She just feared that it wasn’t exactly their usual way. How could she tell him, what if that’s not what he needed. What if it was all different, what if it needed to be?

Jean pointed a finger at herself in the fancy gilt mirror, red nails pointing at her fancy clad self in pastel silk and tiny bows, “He’s your husband,” she told herself sternly, trying not to sweat at the idea he could be here any hour, catch her in this state of intentional undress, and help himself to her jittery body, “he loves you, you love him. All you need to do is let him have his husbandly rights and things will go smoothly. It’s a vacation not a death trap. You’ve got a man to patch up, get on with it.”

This speech gave her four whole seconds of empowered determination before a vigorous set of knocks on the hotel suite’s outer door made her jump out of her skin in surprise. She could go open the door but then -what if someone was in the hall with him? And saw her in this state of…lack of…well, her in her lingerie. He had a key, they’d have given him a key. He was the Mister to her Missus Crosby, they were allowed a shared suite.

“Jean?” Hearing that dear voice for the first time in twelve months, even faintly from far outside the bathroom door, flooded Jean with so much feeling her knees locked up and her throat collapsed on her response. He was her husband, her Bing, her first and only love, they’d be alright. They had to be.

Harry gingerly closed the door behind him, the heavy painted wood shutting with a finality that made him feel terribly anxious. While he had been trudging up the hall to their suite he’d been able to laugh a little at his dismal procession, morose shuffling and hang dog attitude. It had been absurd for a guy coming back to see the wife who he loved. He knew that and he could say that again and again in his head in a voice that morphed more and more into Bubbles’ voice an-

-and now he was in the room and he wasn’t anticipating anything, he had arrived and as if he’d just touched down in occupied Europe, he couldn’t help his braced posture or hunted surveillance of the oddly empty room.

“Jean?”

She wasn’t in here, but the en-suite bathroom door was shut. She wasn’t in here but from the bathroom came wafting something so viscerally nostalgic of her that he felt his heart pound in devoted recognition before his brain even caught up: her soap. Not some fancy hotel brand, it seemed she had brought her old stuff, the stuff he’d lathered on her as many times as he’d had the chance before leaving, the stuff she smelled of before church and the stuff that got more strong and pungent when he made her sweat in it from their exertions in bed.

It smelled like Jean in here and it was enough to make him drop his duffel bag with a decided thump. He was staying. This was his wife, everything might be different but some things like soap -they’d still be the same, as would the dry mouthed want it filled him with.

“Jean?”

He ventured further into the room, not bothering to call her name again, maybe being around guys had made him callous to spooking her but no real harm would be done, he was…him.

“Oh! Bing?” Jean sounded flustered behind her door and Harry found himself grinning. “I’m coming! I’m coming right out!”

It sounded less like a reassurance than it did an order to herself, which was amusing and it made him wonder, just how awkward were the two of them going to manage to make this? God knows he’d tripped over himself enough times winning her over the first round, he had such hopes never to revisit the bumbling stages of courtship. Seemed like once they’d married and joined it had been smooth as glass ever since- until…until he’d stopped being himself.

Until he had wandered into a hotel room with a woman who didn't wear a matching gold band. Jean knew nothing of that though. She never would. Sweet peaches and cream Jean who had come all this way to see him. Bringing that soap and the books he saw stacked on the night table. Bringing that sweet, pink pussy he needed to sink himself into. Remind himself of who he was. He didn't want to be Major Crosby at the moment. He wanted to just be Jean's husband. He heard the clock in the room ticking, felt the sweat pooling at the back of his neck as he waited for her. Her Elizabeth Arden lipsticks lined up like perfect little soldiers on the dresser. It had been so long that kissing her was surely going to feel like the first time all over again.

There was more amiss in the room, upon further inspection, besides her trunks and her hat boxes and the lipsticks. Amiss in that: there were elements no hotel should have, the plate of very delicious looking misshapen fudge, for instance, the plate itself looking suspiciously like their wedding set. Harry could describe that pink and green pattern on ivory in vivid detail if you had asked him yesterday, tracing it now was like no time had passed at all since that first breakfast as husband and wife, tittering over having “things” of their own. And beside the plate a book, one he’d not finished when he went over, he realized with a lump growing in his throat. Then there was the bed beneath these things, tidily made but not pristine, ha -how could it be with homey floral sheets in place of pristine white and a monogrammed pillow case each.

Giant embroidered C’s. For Crosby, of course.

Jeepers -he’d taken Jean for the first time on those very sheets, now he was recognizing them, and some very uncivilized part of him suddenly wanted to rip the covers back and find out if her virgin blood hadn’t fully scrubbed out-

“Bing!”

He is awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed, thumbing through the pages of Look Homeward, Angel when Jean manages to saunter out with a summoned amount of calm. His hair is sleek and trimmed, his jacket well fitting, his whole self in his army duds seeming so comfortable, filled out, self possessed -it’s the floral sheets beneath him that ruins the effect just a little, makes him seem shifty, out of place. That and those great brown eyes suddenly round as a newborn calf’s at the long awaited sight of her.

She’s seen the soldier’s return posters -does he expect the same greeting? No little party at the station in satin and lace here, but they’d both agreed it would be better to be private, secluded, uninterrupted. Now it feels too tame and mild.

Does he want that? That reunion embrace?

Before she can rethink it she rushes him. “Binger!” she gasps out right as he stands to meet her head on, long arms outstretched to engulf her. This she knows, this she dreamed of. If she squeezes too tight she must be forgiven, it’s too fabulous to be considered real for many moments, the feel of his flexing back beneath her hands and his chest under her cheek. It’s tight and jarring and not a bit smooth but it’s him, it’s him and all is well.

Harry has his nose buried in her hair, that smell is wafting in again. It’s Jean -hits him with the force of a rocket and he’s suddenly responding in kind, arms crushing her to him, can’t get close enough, can’t tell her enough about missing her and loving her and how he’s put one step in front of the other all these years for this moment.

“Oh Bing,” she exclaims again, her face just barely pulled away to really get a look at him, her hands on his cheeks, “I can’t believe it. I’ve prayed, every day I’ve prayed for this.”

Prayers -the word sours in his mind after what he’s seen, after how many he’s sent up and not plane returned with an answer. “Mmm, Mrs. Crosby.” he contemplates the dear face before him before dragging his hand beneath her hair, cupping the back of her head with his large hand, watchface cool on the back of her neck. She’s been waiting for him to kiss her, wanting to let him lead, hoping her initial enthusiasm would embolden him like before. Instead he seems lost in archiving her face, those dear, melancholy eyes flitting over every feature, the hands studying and firm but not a caress. It’s obvious there’s something missing here, a piece ajar from the puzzle.

Jean stands atiptoe carefully, and determinedly slots her lips against his plush, red ones. That seems to rouse him a bit, Harry responds instantly, making up for his hesitancy, deepening it as his tongue meets hers in a heart wrenching reunion of sorts. He always was fond of kissing, her Bing. Now he was kissing her senseless and this -this was more like what she imagined.

His hands trail from her neck down the her ribs and into the dip of her waist, over the swell of her hips where he vaguely notices she’s adorned in some silky little something, no doubt chosen and worn just for him.

Say something Croz, you big idiot —he thinks to himself, confronted with the fact he is gripping at her and sucking face without another word said besides inane repetition of her name.

“Jean you look…perfect.” he mumbles against her lips.

It’s boyish and reminiscent, the stumbling praises mumbled so earnestly. It makes her giggle fondly. She breaks their kiss and takes hold of his face in her hands, indulging a little inspection of her own. “My beautiful boy,” she croons, “you came back to me.”

She kisses the prominent bridge of his nose and his perpetually furrowed brow and the smooth below each heavily fringed eye, his cheeks, his chin, the corner of his mouth -she pressed at his chest till she’s got him sat on the edge of the bed again. He’s fully dressed, taut as a bowstring and she wants him, needs him, to relax. She can feel the tension, the uncertainty, rolling off him.

She won’t let them take this away from them, she won’t let them rob them of their comfort with each other.

She kneels gently before him and undoes his boots, enjoying the way he pets her hair, quietly admiring its shine and style. His trousers are creased and starched and knelt between his legs Jean finally notices it then, the prominent tent beneath the olive weave. It makes her breath hitch. Was he always this big? Even camouflaged by trousers?

“You must be tired,” she frets aloud, working on the laces, “and cramped from such a long flight. Did you take something? Your eyes are a little…funny.”

Harry nods before realizing she’s not one of his men. Wives tend to value words and sentences, the more syllables the better. “Yeah,” he croaks aloud, “something for the stomach.”

Oh Bing and his stomach. Ever the dutiful wife, Jean rubs the sock feet she just liberated and kneads her way up his calves, hoping to leech some of the tension out of him. She works her way to his thighs, rising back up to her feet when he grabs her wrists and pulls her into another kiss. It’s even hungrier this time and his first moan of the evening sends a jolt of longing triumph straight to her core.

“I’ve missed you.” she chokes out between kisses and he responds by biting her neck, his thumbs rolling the satin in circles on her hips. His front pressing hard and firm against her lower belly, making her mouth run dry.

Still, Harry’s not saying much and if he wasn't kissing and caressing her so ardently, she'd have no clue they were even on the same planet.

And so Jean decides to do something rather bold. Something her mother would not approve of. She puts her hands on his shoulders, briefly causing him to pull away from her neck, then she whispers temptingly in his ear, “Last night I…slid my ring finger inside me. pretended it was you…I won't have to pretend anymore, will I, Harry?”

She feels him twitch against her belly beneath his layers. It’s her turn to kiss his cheek and nibble his neck, finding his little groans to be intoxicating. His grip tightens on her waist as he buries his head against her with his eyes closed, breathing her in. That scent.

That's when she adds in a plea, “Y-y-you're gonna have to…open me

up again Croz.…..you know what I

mean?...my poor little fingers are so

tiny and now I'm back to how I was

on our wedding night…”

Harry’s groan is animalistic and pained and she -well Jean’s a horny, rambling mess and she can’t bring herself to be ashamed, she missed him too strongly. “You're a hero to America.” She swears into his panting mouth, “And to me. I'm gonna give you the strength to help you get through the rest of what you need to do. But I need something from you, I need you to put a baby in me Bing.”

That is what he responds to, like orders in war. He’s good at finding his way with directions. His head rears back and his eyes sharpen with concentration. Jean wants something? he’ll deliver it, always was that way.

He nods.

“Lay back on the bed Jean.” his voice is quiet but she’s never heard it so steady, so commanding. That must be the voice he uses when he speaks to his men over there. If she wasn't squeezing her thighs together and scrambling onto the bed to follow Major Crosby orders, well, she'd cum right then and there. This isn't the same Bing that reads the paper, his beautiful lips mouthing the words as he does, the one who brings her flowers just because, or is quick not to curse in public. This man before her is a war weary Major who is used to being obeyed. Jean intends to follow every word he says, the thought of seeing him off without a little piece of him nestled inside her would just devastate her.

She burrows up against their Crosby pillows, looking like an absolute treat and admiring her man's package that seems to be growing bigger by the second. He's panting like a wild horse above her and she realizes she should heed all that advice she'd been given. Be a good wife, take care of his needs. Her painted toes rub against the sheets as she slowly inches forward to help him undress. Major Crosby beats her to it though, ridding himself of his uniform efficiently and tossing it on to the floor in a rumpled mess accompanied by a huff.

Is he mad? Jean wonders to herself. His freshly exposed cock sure looks mad. It's red, and almost looks hot to the touch as it dribbles and leaks down his thick shaft.

Was it always that big? Were his eyes always so wild? Bright -she remembers them as being bright.

He collapses on her purposefully, a crushing embrace with his hands snarled in her hair, elbows to the bed, his belly to hers, his lips devouring her own. It’s a shock and a thrill, that first feeling of skin against skin again, Harry’s so warm his tongue is nearly scalding and she feels herself sweat in her skimpy finery. The anticipation is harsh, the dynamic fumbling in its ravenous rush, her head spins when an irrational spike of fear slices through the heady haze of desire that his touches coax. Touch? -a mauling of sorts, more like, he is all teeth and nails and assessing hands, grabbing at her ferociously.

Instinctively Jean begins to rub him, his shoulders, his neck, his forearms

-a soothing caress at a kinder pace than he allows but she means it well, channels that little spark of anxiety she feels to sooth his own keyed up self.

“I’m here, I’m here,” she keeps swearing as she feels him buckle just that little bit to the insistent kneading of her hands on his arms, “I’m not going anywhere.” she swears and the rigid line of his body sags further into her neck, some off kilter focus he’s carried about him slipping under her gentle persuasion. “Baby, how about a little rub?” she coos, lithely extracting herself out from under him before she thinks on it too long.

“That might be nice.” he manages, not sure what the hell it is he needs, “My neck maybe..took a little spill a few days ago...” he casually mentions the incident, underplaying that whole fiasco of passing out cold from exhaustion, splattering on the floor like the contents of a mop bucket.

“Then let me rub your neck.” she begs.

He allows it and with a slightly lost gaze he follows her movements as she props up beside him and brings him closer for leverage. She scoops his head into her lap with that familiarity that made him fall first and hard for her, and suddenly he is pillowed on the warm, giving belly of a woman. His woman. And Croz feels himself begin to melt from that feeling alone, long before her clever thumbs start working at the knots nearly calcified at the base of his neck.

She used to do this for him when he was at school, too much reading in an ill advised position had him often so stoved up he couldn’t be of any use on the baseball team. Jean had learned to work her magic then, and Harry had learned how very much he liked his face buried against the swell of a girl’s womb.

Oh fuck -her little speech comes rushing back to him- Jean wants a baby.

Damn the jet lag, the separation jitters and all the rest that got him sent here like a looney to a special holding facility. Jean wants a baby and he hasn’t been rock hard since Dartmouth only to let it go to waste by sleeping it off.

Right when she begins to feel the motion of her hands take effect on his rigid shoulders, her Harry is suddenly lifting his head again, face slightly flushed and creased from the lace of her nighty and he smiles at her then. Mischievous and warm, “C'mere,” he beckons with a voice that means something and so she follows him as he sits up, “stand up babydoll, show me that outfit. Let me appreciate ya.” He slides his warm palm into her smaller one and tugs her to her feet, an easy sort of dance move to bring her round in front of his position, swaying her back and forth just outside the v of his legs.

“Well, look at you.” he marvels at her, his expression gone soft under that wrecked mop of curls. Jean recognizes the old spark alight in him, the one that might go dormant for her when away or when she couldn’t make up her damn mind but anytime she wanted him back?—oh he looked at her like this, like he was lucky as hell to have her and intended to be brave with that luck. “Turn around for me, loverdoll, c’mon, show me what I’ve got, come onnnn Jeaaann,” he insists, his voice playful and insistent as he spins her with a hand at her hip until she shows him the back of this frilly little excuse for nightwear, “Look at that.” he whistles behind her and Jean feels her cheeks burn pleasantly, “Pretty as a fawn, Jean.” he punctuates this odd little compliment with the back of a finger running up the length of her thigh, to the little swell of her rump and Jean knows her legs tremble in helpless response. “Go on, strike a pose for me, I know you didn’t put on this get up for nothin’. Who'd believe it? My Mrs. Crosby out here lookin’ like one of those girls.”

‘Those’ girls, whoever they are exactly, are left nebulous and Jean likes it that way, it gives her a saucy bravery to pitter patter away from his hold and turn back to face his unabashedly admiring gaze. Jean cocks a hip and drops a shoulder, knee turned in, toes pointed. Gerry had made her perfect it a million times in the mirror when she should’ve been sensibly getting into a gown and getting some shut eye instead.

Thank God for Margaret Ann Blakely and her fun loving pastimes. And also: “Screw him for us Jean!!” -thank God for Gerry Hamilton and her brazen preoccupations with her own man, for how she piled on as she convinced Jean of an assortment of little silk things thrown into her suitcase, “Screw him good, for all of us! For Americaaaaa!” the young and empty Mrs. Hamilton’s candor had built until Jean was close to frantic to get into the taxi and leave her best friends and their antics behind.

Jean didn’t doubt for a single minute that Hambone and Ev would shortly be receiving letters that good naturedly bemoaned Jean and Croz’s luck.

“You think you needed to look like this to get me to nail ya?” her Croz teases her now and his grin is lewd and Jean likes it that way, it matches the disrespectful hands that reach out without her Harry’s usual calculation and instead paw at her tits like a sex starved man. It sends a line of electricity straight to the little button between her legs and Jean ends up leaning into those hands until she’s suddenly so near him she’s on top of him and then, easy as anything, he knocks her sideways and under him once more. Legs splayed wide and with a husband lying on top of her with a very determined look on his face -she reckons the games are over.

“Gonna be like a second wedding.” she squeaks out, giddy eyed in excitement, toes curling in terror, he feels so big slotted at the spot.

Was he always so big?

Harry slings her leg over his hip and he’s suddenly in her without even needing to fumble for entrance. Little Croz pries her open all at once in a smooth, brutal, unyielding shove and that’s all it takes, he’s so overwhelmingly substantial that Jean finds herself bowing under him in a climax from the painful pleasure of reunion alone.

“Really, already?” he chuckles at her as she hoarsely keens out her ecstasy beneath him, her nails digging crescents in the flesh of his tense shoulders, his own thumbs stroking along her throat, “I missed you too, Mrs. Crosby.” he laughs.

She slaps at him, lovingly as her throat still hasn’t fully come back to use, “God you feel good.” She croaks.

“Just wait till you learn there’s more.” he teases before pulling his hips back and keeping that far tip barely nestled in her petals before slamming in again so forcefully she feels something funny in her chest.

“Bing!” it’s not a protest on her part but, my God -he, they…they used to give it the ole college try before he left, but this? This must be what it’s like to get really and truly screwed.

Screwing her, that’s what he’s doing and she wonders in a vague haze of helpless sensations if he’ll auger a hole straight through her back to the mattress with this merciless rhythm. She’s as vaguely impressed by his strength and capability as she is by her own body’s ability to absorb it, her freshly rediscovered hole burning at the use and somehow it’s all just a wonderfully heated, overwhelming miasma of delight as she keeps on seizing under him and he bullies her right though one peak after another with only a wicked grin on those full lips to suggest he’s got any idea what she’s so happily enduring.

“I can’t stop, I just can’t stop, it's just so -it’s so much.” she babbles, very keen to get her point across but very unsure what her point actually is. All thoughts, feelings and intentions center around Harry and that fat schlong of his rearranging her insides. She’s not sure her toes have been uncurled in over a quarter hour and her mind’s not been her own for longer still. “You’re so much.” she wails, and for half of it she means not his size but how long he’s been going at it.

“And you’re gonna take it.” he confirms, the hand on her hip inexorable and his pretty face is half snarling at her in desperation. “You miss this?” his voice shakes from his exertions and Jean is sure she’s never heard a more attractive sound than his wrecked breathing, “Miss this, huh? Bet you did, so goddamn tight. No married woman’s got any…any…any business being so tight. Gonna fix that, gonna make you so married you’re not gonna-“ he presses her legs back until she feels her hamstrings burn, knees to her chest, his body lunging into hers…angry again? she doesn’t know he just keeps grunting “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She’s milking him so perfectly, peaking and shuddering and clenching more frequently than he ever remembers and he should be so saved up he can’t manage to hold on but instead -the fuck if he can blow. It just won’t let go. The noise of his work is a lew phwap phwap phwap of split splat suction and from her whimpers and begs he knows he has already spent her but-

Goddamn! Came all this way, waited all this time and he can’t let loose?

Through the haze of her overstimulation Jean can feel something amiss, the tension back and worse than that, there’s the frustrated anger of before. Harry is breathing hard and his face is dark and the prominent vein across his alabaster forehead is popping so significantly she worries about stroke. He’s about to crack a tooth at this rate, his tension is so extreme and then suddenly, there’s a pause.

He stares down at the wet mess where they’re joined, brows knit together and mouth firm before a flicker ignites in his eye and in a fit of rage at himself and this deficient cock, he grabs at one of the decorative pillows and throws it across the room. It bangs dully against the window and flops to the floor.

Unsurprisingly the outburst against cotton batting and fancy trim does little for his pickle, he’s still stiff as a board and nowhere close to relief. He fought a whole goddamn war and came back just to not be able to get his rocks off. What a joke.

Gently as he can, and with rampant self pity running loose, he disentangles from Jean’s snug self and throws himself beside her on his back.

Bewildered Jean is more than a little grateful for the intermission. She does her best to collect her wits, looking over at him and clocking his defeated expression and closed eyes, the hand pinching the bridge of his nose. And poor Little Croz that is a furious magenta red with veins about ready to burst from swelling, sticking straight up from between his legs.

Shifting onto her side to face him rubs her poor kitty just wrong -or right- and a helpless mewl escapes her as she creams herself again from that little movement alone. The sound and shudder of his wife makes Croz crack open an eye, watching intently as Jean bites her lip and timidly runs her fingers through the hair on his chest.

“Come sit on my lap, Jeanie.” he mumbles.

She perks up with a smile, “Whatever my hero wants, baby.” she condones before shakily straddling his lean hips and sinking down with a noticeable squelch. It earns a drawn out moan of satisfaction from both of them. Sensing the agony and desperation of the man beneath her as she begins to lift her hips and slam them back down, juices splash on her feet from the movement. To lift his spirits she attempts her best at shoving her tits in his face while she does it and gets her nipples tugged in thanks.

This right here is perfect, she’s so full she can hardly bear it but he feels so good she ignores the burn of her legs and keeps her pace up, the beautiful expanse of her man laid out before her a perfect spur. The sun seems to have set by now and through the open curtains the sounds and lights of the city pour in, glistening off his sweaty skin like a million stars and doing nothing to dim the noise of his appreciative moans, the hoarse grunts of her name, the sounds of their sticky hips colliding.

“I've dreamed about being full like this every night since you left.” Jean tells him, stuffed beyond her limits it feels like he’s so damn deep he could describe the feel of her cervix in detail.

She can feel those tight bowling balls she's sitting on that need to unload inside her, and precariously she reaches backwards to fondle them with one hand, remembering how he used to react to it. She gets her first high pitched whine of the evening from him at that, his chest heaving and his head thrashing, curls everywhere. “Bing -- oh it's big, it's big, I'll take it all though I-I promise….we gotta make you cum, baby.” she determines, not needing the discarded pillow or fuming passion to alert her to his desperation, “Lemme help you…just fill me up, let it alllll out... you need to, must be aching so bad”

At the mention of the ache he begins to buck into her wildly like a feral thing. Jean would have toppled off from his vigor if he hadn’t seized her hips in an iron grip and held her still for his assault from below. Jean hears herself squealing and whimpering and begging nonsense, still a bit fresh -and respectful- to this new and ferocious side of him. Somewhere in it though, Harry’s beginning to crack, frustration going from anger to fury to desperation to some boyish and pitiful need for relief.

Harry doesn’t mean to groan so loudly, so pathetically but it’s all so perfect and he’s so damn close and Jean’s like a sprinkler down there she’s enjoying herself so much and -why the hell can’t a fella just blow?

Jean instantly stills atop him and cradles his face tenderly, soft searching eyes and lips whispering about …something, something something “baby boy” -and he shudders. His pants are harsh as if he’s about to have a heart attack and his chest is so winded and achy he thinks he might. Or else cry.

Wouldn’t that be fun.

Beneath his hands he feels Jean’s hips begin to flex and she’s grinding on him again, twisting her hips in a slow figure eight that feels like a man’s heaven beneath his palms, and ten times that for his cock. It’s not doing it enough to make him blow but for a moment he decides that’s fine, he inflates his poor lungs again and lays back, admittedly a bit too stiff and rigid, and touches her as she pleases herself on top of him. She giggles shyly to him and her near constant moans are music to his ears as she swivels on his cock. He enjoys watched the pink little folds absorb him and the way their curls brush and mix where they meet, his lower belly a wet mess and streaks of the same running down to her ankles, they’ve made such a soup.

Clam fuckin’ chowder, by the looks of it.

Maybe he did blow. Doesn’t feel like it. And after watching and coaxing her through another melting peak, he lets her sag onto his chest for a minute and regroup before, with a kiss to her hair and a hard smack to her ass, he tells her,

“Hands and knees, Jean, if you want that baby -hands and knees.”

He barked it like an order, and while a little startled by it, she still wastes no time in flipping herself over and off him, scurrying into the position he specified, shaky from so many orgasms and the anticipation of him back atop her. Wincing inwardly at the thought of that package at this angle with how sore she already is-

-and he wastes no time. But instead of a cock she feels the shockingly familiar but never less exquisite feeling of his tongue running up the messy length of her slit. Her face collapses into the pillows along with her pleased shriek of “Bing!”.

He he laughs warm and wicked behind her, enjoying the ass up display of what he’s done to her.

“Spread ‘em Jean.” he tells her, and two dainty hands leave off from gripping the covers to bashfully pull her cheeks apart and show her husband where his fat cock belongs. He can see her pulsing down like a living entity of its own, even in this dim light.

“I'll be good... I'll be good for you, Major. Tell me what to do.” Jean swears hoarsely, those fawnish legs trembling again.

“Just take me.” he mutters simply, mounting her suddenly with his hand on the back of her head, keeping her cheek to the pillow and her scream muffled as he shoves in and begins to plow this squeaking little lady like tomorrow is indeed not promised to men like him.

Beneath him, between the high pitched squeals of pleasure and the urgent whines of endurance, Jean is muttering a litany of …something. Again and again she’s saying words like “it’s ok baby, it’s ok” and Harry isn’t sure if it’s meant for him or her, she sounds like a drunk fairy and his head begins to buzz with likelihood. “It’s ok baby, they told me you'd be like this, it’s ok. I can take it. I’ve missed you—“ she just keeps muttering that and vaguely Harry is pretty sure that comfort is meant for him and he wonders who ‘they’ are and what ‘like this’ even means.

On Jean’s part she is legitimately unsure who’s she’s trying to convince, likely herself but also, maybe that part of her between her legs that’s torn between panic and absolute ecstasy at his rough usage. Jean's mind spins at the realization of how much she likes it, likes the feral proof of how badly he missed her, needs her, wants her still. Her sweet and mild Harry climbed on top of her and is now railing her, and while it’s not your average little jaunt in the sheets, she clings to her pillow and takes it with something like pride…in between the moments when Harry’s fat cock wipes her mind a starry white as her legs kick up helplessly beneath him and her back arches and her hole clenches and another happy mess slides down her inner thighs to the sodden sheets.

And all through it the best of it is Harry and his voice, half sane sounding for once this evening as if to balance out the animalistic pose he has her in, groaning above her,

“That's it, be my good girl..my good, good girl. Always so good to me.”

He’s petting her hair like she’s a damn Labrador or something, wrapping her beautiful curls around his hand, arched over her like a cat, it’s perfect and he’s so deep he thinks he could fuck his balls in, foot placed sturdily on the bed beside her for further leverage.

“-Croz! You gotta!” His wife wails nonsensically beneath him, he picks her head up by the hair to hear what the hell she’s jabbering about now, husbandly rights or how she was ‘told’ he’d be.

She’s so cock wrecked it ain’t even funny but when he prods her with a “What's that Jean?” between thrusts he gets a slightly more formulated thought-

“You gotta put a baby in me!” she insists through sobs, orgasm after orgasm turning her into this shaking, shuddering, limp excuse of a woman.

A loverdoll, for real.

Her words ping in his head like that damn red light everywhere he goes on base. A light at the end of the tunnel, an eminent thing he’s needed for. Tightness seizes his belly and takes him unawares, suddenly Harry’s roaring out a resounding,

“Oh FUCK! Jean! Fuck-“ that bounces around the room like a cacophony.

The hotel guests next door might be

wondering why a moose is dying in

Manhattan? But no sweat, it’s just Major Crosby seeding his willing wife.

Like a soothing balm on a surgical wound, Jean feels him exploding warm and sticky and healing inside her at last. It doesn't stop coming, rope after rope of the thick, steaming hot gold of his body swelling her own and this adds the finishing touches to what was already a melted woman. In his last rapacious thrusts, she can feel her body playing the minx, trying to squeeze him out but her Croz is having none of it, like a dying man to water, he uses every bit of strength left to shove himself back in and flood her until she’s a collapsed and leaking mess.

In a haze, Croz pulls his now mercifully limp cock out of her and surveys her wrecked self with bleary, appreciative eyes. “Looks like you been through a war of your own, baby.” he jokes but his voice is so wrecked from his previous yells it startles his newly moderated self and he ends up toppled over beside her, no longer capable of giving a damn about anything.

His eyelids refuse to stay open and his neck is laying funny but -fuck! He was just inside Jean!

“You ok, Bing?” he hears her sweet voice whisper beside him and it was no dream then, and God forgive him he was probably mean. She’s panting beside him and when he can’t manage to answer he feels her hand grab his wrist and gently guide him somewhere until he’s petting startlingly warm petals that are saturated with his spunk.

“Think you managed to open me up, alright.” she titters, still sounding drunk and he can’t help the way his cheek crinkles in a returning smile.

Smashed into the pillow as it is, it’s still the prettiest expression of the best man Jean has ever known. “Y-Yeah.” her man croaks, half insensible but his beautiful hand keeps petting her where she’s sore and recently excavated, his identification bracelet jangling softly in the stillness, “You were such a good girl Jeanie..a good wife…ya did your job.” he mumbles more, fully in Major mode as he begins to drift off, forgetting entirely that maybe a fella shouldn't praise his wife like she's one of his men gotten back from a mission.

But Jean takes the compliment well, knowing how it’s meant, knowing that maybe tomorrow when he’s more conscious and healed, she may be blocked out from that world entirely. It’s a little glimpse and she takes it for what it is, with soft appreciation. Smilingly she lets go of his hand to give deflated Little Croz some pats, the sticky, shrunken thing is playing at being harmless and she has a longing to meanly suck on it until it shows it’s true colors again.

But no, for now, Croz’s heavy and nearly insessible arm throws itself over her waist and drags her to him, slotting the married couple together like spoons in their drawer.

They could try to shower but that seems too daunting a prospect at present, and highly futile considering what lies in store -more of the same. And for her part, Jean doesn’t dare move and slosh and waste any of what her Bing gave her. His forearm is heavy over her battered womb, cum and abuse swelling it just that little bit as if she were on her menses. She’s not, those were two weeks ago.

When his hand splays and cups the swollen bulge he made, Jean whispers to his already snoozing self, “We made a baby Bing, I just know it.”

And if not— there’s four more weeks to make certain.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Musing on Ages, & Dragon Prep

"Desire" mention - how much does Tensu know of the details of the origin of dungeons? (More than I do, probably...but I know this is thematically important.)

"Us"? Aren't gnomes another long-lived species? Ok this is going to be continuously relevant to the geopolitics so I need to break it down. From the wiki:

Elves: lifespan: 400; adult at 80

Gnomes: lifespan: 240; adult at 40

Dwarves: lifespan: 200; adult at 40

Tallmen: lifespan: 60; adult at 16

Orcs: lifespan: 55; adult at 14

Kobolds: lifespan: 55; adult at 13

Halffoots: lifespan: 50; adult at 14

I see - so really we're dealing with 3 factions: Elves, Gnomes & Dwarves, and Everyone Else. I find it interesting that the longer-lived races reach maturity at 17-20% of their average lifespan, while the younger-lived races all do so at around 25% of their average lifespan. I feel a little like this is a cop-out on the writer's part in trying to keep the ages of maturity a little closer to one another - though of course it's a cultural thing by each race (and, I'm sure, each culture within each race - idk how monolithic the whole comic will treat them, but it would track with the thematic worldbuilding for their to be multiple distinct social groups within each race, even if they do tent to band together against the other races!)

Based on the categories of "long-lived" and "short-lived", the latter seem to view all of the former as much the same - but I'm SURE the Elves have a different view of it, and I'm sure the Dwarves and, as we see here, Gnomes, are very aware of and irritated by the Elves' view.

...and as we see here, and earlier with Chilchuck admitting to being 29 (solidly middle-aged!) and Marcille going, "Aw, so you are a kid!", people rarely make any effort to understand each others relative ages, instead just coasting on their own life-based assumptions.

With reference to above, we can see that Namari at 61 is pretty exactly equivalent to Kaka and Kiki at 20.

Also: this little scene wasn't in the show at all and I love it! Namari in mentor mode!

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ALRIGHT RED DRAGON TIME!! Hey look, literally the 2nd panel in this ghost city is 2/3 winged lions by volume. Hmmm...

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I love how it's explicitly Shuro's job to get the final killshot, presumably because he has Feats for this (ie, cool-looking moments) as a "real" anime character (Easterner). This literally bears up with what we see of him in the future.

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Chilchuck: I will NOT fight!

Chilchuck: I'll totally be dragon bait with you, though.

Chilchuck: Not that I care if you succeed or survive or anything! I'm only here because you paid up front.

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Laios using the Inspiring Leader speech feat! They're all having a Heroes' Feast before fighting the dragon, a classic pre-dragon act for bonus HP and immunity to being Frightened! I know this isn't actually D&D but that post that I think came through my queue earlier today is right: it DOES have the same bones. It's like reading the Locked Tomb and being aware that this author was deep in Homestuck, or Scholomance vis a vis Harry Potter canon and fandom. I know where this writer has been, because I have been there too.

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THE BOY IS HERE! THE MAN THE MYTH THE OVERWORKED* LEGEND!

THIS SISTER-EATING MOTHERFUCKER!!

*Crack AU where the whole dragon fight is averted because it talks and somehow the conversation leads to Chilchuck going, "And the Mage isn't even letting you sleep? Tsk. You've got to start a union." And then Laios gets all starry-eyed, "A Monster Union?!" And then the Mage is eventually defeated by all the monsters of the dungeon, and also the poor sane ghosts as well, unionizing against him, and "king" becomes just the title for the Union Rep, whose main job is to honk an airhorn at presumptuous Elves and tell them to fuck off like a Canadian goose.

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I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

To be sold at auction to the monstrous leader of an alien crime syndicate who rules his network of vicious thugs with an iron fist. For him to bring me back to his lair-ship and promptly declare me off-limits to his band of alien criminals, on pain of death. He takes me back to his private quarters, bolts the door and strips me down to coo and fret over my many bruises and scrapes. Bathing my frail, battered little body he promises to only ever pet and coddle me, keeping me as his secret plaything while he terrorizes the galaxy: "I have such a soft spot for pretty things, my dear. Let's keep this between us."

I become his refuge. After a long day of murder and pillaging passenger ships among the stars, he comes back to me for a dose of gentleness. "Hard day?" I ask, reclining on the bed.

"Terrible," he says, "I lost three of my best enforcers."

"Come here," I tell him, spreading my legs and accepting his scarred, blood-spattered body. His huge, knotted cock spreads me wide as he fucks away the terror and violence, replacing the cries of the dying in his ears with my screams of pleasure.

"Such a good girl," he says as he plunges his knot deep, "my perfect little fucktoy." He fills my pussy to the brim, cum squirting out around his thick cock, then pulls me on top to keep me plugged up. I lay on his massive scaly chest, shivering when his cock twitches inside me with mini-orgasms. "I don't think I could stay sane without you, little darling. I see so much gore every day, it's good to come home to something so sweet and beautiful."

I fall asleep still mounted on his girth, barely waking when he takes me again later. I'm sticky with his seed and the blood of his victims, but I don't care - I'm the safest little fucktoy in the galaxy.

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[dreamings-free]

Weird how y’all don’t want Louis to come out from under the shadow of the band and to be known as a solo artist. He’s still referred to almost exclusively as Louis from 1D… and playing a setlist that is 1/3 covers is not helping him overcome that. He will always play 1D songs, we all know that, but 3 out of 13 songs is excessive and you know it. And before you say some bs like “there’s nothing wrong with being known as Louis from 1D”…. There is when he’s so much more than just the band and the songs he wrote when he was 22. It’s possible to honor the band and be proud of his past while also wanting him to move on from it.

There’s also the added annoyance that everyone always just assumes that all his fans only like him because of the band and that he hasn’t been able to gain any fans through his own music. It doesn’t piss you off when his crowds are described as directioners? Playing festival sets using that many 1D songs as a safety blanket is just playing into that stereotype and it does him a massive disservice.

the issue here, anon is that unlike you louis isn’t embarrassed about being 'louis from one direction'

it’s funny how you guys keep accusing me and other (sane) people of not liking louis for who he is and yet here you are belittling him for his past and for being proud of his past achievements?!

and no I "don’t know it".. that is not the hottake you think it is. the thing is you are way way too hung up on some of the songs in his setlists being 1D songs. who cares? fans who know (and love) those songs are happy to see them reimagined to fit with louis’ current style. people at a festival who might recognise some of his songs as being 1D will probably just think 'hey I know that one but this guitar heavy version is cool!' people who aren’t familiar with 1D won’t even know they’re 1D songs and will like or dislike them regardless..?!

also louis clearly chose that setlist because every single song is A BANGER in a live set. people at festivals are often drunk and exhausted and if they happen to stumble into louis tomlinson’s late afternoon set they’re gonna fall asleep if he pulls out songs like chicago or saturdays. thinking the megamix with its slow intro is gonna work in the bright afternoon sunlight.. have you even been to a festival? louis and steve crafted this setlist because they know through years of experience (and a heavy dose of good taste and simple common sense) that this setlist is gonna keep a mixed festival crowd engaged. I've seen people complain about WDBHG and honestly if you can’t understand the sheer genius of giving that perfect pop song a rock makeover AND adding in that little baba o’riley bit.. which soo many people in a festival crowd will recognise - I’m sorry but you don’t deserve the magic that is the combined tomlinson-durham mastermind!

and finally because that comment really piss me off; how tf are 1D songs "a safety blanket" while in the same breath you're saying new listeners won't like him.. because he's associated with 1D. again, it's not me who doesn't like louis for who he is, is it?