#this is a half genuine call for help because sure i could just find something else to by myself but at the same time im in genuine mental pa

[mistyycowoa]

(balloon deflation noises) very mentally die

[teamred]

any other way

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k

SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.

WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy

RATING | teen+

NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!

///

“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.” 

Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—  

And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him. 

“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.” 

“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.

“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…”  You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—” 

“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”

“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.” 

He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.

“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?” 

“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”

You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine. 

“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle. 

“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—” 

“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.” 

You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.” 

“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.” 

You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions. 

Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”

“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from? 

He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again. 

The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other. 

“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver. 

The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next. 

Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–

But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position. 

“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?” 

You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.

“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.” 

“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—” 

As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.

“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?” 

You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core. 

Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” 

Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything. 

“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down. 

“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.” 

“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.” 

“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech. 

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.” 

Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words. 

“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.” 

“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.

“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door. 

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.

You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.” 

“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.” 

“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment. 

“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?” 

You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.” 

“Great, I’ll call you later.” 

Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.

“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls. 

Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”

“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise. 

His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.

Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?” 

“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.

“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.” 

Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always). 

Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace. 

Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring. 

ENDING NOTES | thank you so much for reading and giving some love! part two can be read here!

[chilling-seavey]

↳ A/N In some of my casual concepting I do in my spare time, this random blurb idea came out of it and I had to flesh it out to post because it genuinely [and embarrassingly] made me laugh out loud.

↳ Summary: Your curious two-year-old son discovers something he shouldn't.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 2.3k

↳ Warnings: Unedited. Mentions of adult related items in not adult situations, possible secondhand embarrassment, honestly it's just a good ol' lighthearted silly blurb

“You never realize how much useless stuff you have until you’re packing.”

George chuckled at your sentiment as he leaned against the open doorway to your shared bedroom, arms crossed over his chest and his skin tight work-out shirt. He had just returned from his early afternoon gym session — skillfully scheduled right over your two-year-old son’s nap time — and had found you amongst another round of attempting to pack up your Monaco apartment for your impending move. 

With a toddler and balancing George’s chaotic race schedule, it was hard to actually find time to dedicate to packing so you took any chance you could get. It was a slow but sure process; but also meant you were going to be living out of cardboard boxes for a few weeks. How glamorous. 

“As good a time as any to bin anything useless then.” George replied, watching you putter between the dresser and the half-filled cardboard box positioned on the foot of the bed. “Only important things are coming with us.”

Your freshly awake and quite lively two-year-old was blissfully exploring your bedroom, wobbling around your legs and into every corner as he babbled away to himself. His favourite toy car was clutched in one hand (he rarely went anywhere without it) as he peered into open drawers of the dresser and explored the half closed cardboard boxes neatly lined up by the wall. 

“The only important things I need are you two.” you replied to your husband with a proud smile. 

George’s eyebrows raised as a smirk pricked his lips and he pushed off the doorway to saunter farther into the room, “Oh, really? Well, then, we might as well just live in one of these boxes since we need nothing else but each other.”

You smiled back at him as he approached you, his hands navigating to your hips like second nature. Fiddling with the random cluster of wires you had pulled out of your bottom dresser drawer, you kept his tender eye contact as you replied to him softly, “As much as that is so appealing, I feel we may have Children’s Aid called on us.”

Before George could offer any sort of rebuttal, your toddler let out a giddy squeal from across your room followed by an adorable, “Uh oh!”

You both looked over quickly to see what he had gotten into now (foolish of you both to even take your eyes off him for more than three seconds), only to find your two year old beside one of the packed cardboard boxes, bottle of lube in hand. Except the bottle had been opened by his tiny nimble fingers and he was squirting the clear substance all over his hands and arms. That was NOT something either of you wanted your son to get a hold of.

Your eyes widened in sheer shock, “Oh-”

George felt his heart drop into his stomach, instantly moving away from you with a stern call of your son’s name followed by a, “No, no, no.”

He bent down beside the toddler and quickly grabbed him by the wrist to keep him from spreading the lube everywhere, his other hand snatching the now half-empty bottle from him. George looked back at you, shock and embarrassment written all over his face.

Despite the unideal situation, you couldn’t help the amused smile that threatened to spread across your face and you lifted a hand up to your mouth to try and hide the upturn of your lips.

“Yucky!” your son giggled, clapping his hands together to make the wettest slapping sound.

“Jesus.” George muttered with a shake of his head, reaching over the kid to set the slippery bottle on the bedside table for the time being. He had a toddler now smeared in lube to deal with first and, God, he didn’t know where to start. Staring down at the smiley kid, he directed to you (or the universe), “Why does he have to find the most embarrassing stuff to play with?”

You went back to trying to untangle the clump of cords as you offered half teasingly, “Maybe we should look into drawers that lock for our new house.”

“Yeah, maybe you're right. We should start locking up everything before he goes destroying the whole place before we are even moved in,” George said, a hint of resignation in his voice.

The little boy, with one wrist still in George's firm grip, reached out his other hand towards his father’s face, announcing proudly, “Slimy.”

George leaned his head back, out of the toddler’s reach, with a strained, “Oh, no. No, no, no, don't you dare-”

With an amused giggle, the toddler took his hand back and, instead, went to bring his little fingers to his mouth to taste. 

George saw what he was about to do and his eyes widened in horror. The last thing he needed was his son putting lube in his mouth.

“No, hey, stop that!” George exclaimed, quickly grabbing your son’s other wrist with his other hand to prevent him from touching his mouth. “You can't put that in your mouth, mate. It's all kinds of wrong. It's for adults only!”

Threading the cords through your fingers, you offered unhelpfully, “Well, it is safe for consumption, technically.”

George shot you a dirty look, only half truly exasperated, shaking his head in disbelief at your comment. Your attempt to hide your laughter wasn't going unnoticed.

“Oh, yeah, because that's reassuring,” he replied sarcastically, “Safe for consumption or not, our son does not need to be putting that in his mouth. Especially not while it's all over his hands like this!”

“Little one needs a bath, I think.” you said in a gentle voice.

George nodded in agreement, his annoyance quickly replaced by a resigned sigh. He hadn’t even had a moment to wash off from his gym session himself and now he had to deal with a lubed up toddler’s majorly required bathtime. 

“Yeah, you're right. He's made quite a mess of himself, hasn't he?” George said, still holding tight to your son’s tiny wrists to prevent him from getting more lube all over the place.

“Did you want me to bathe him?” you offered, easily noting the slight frustration in his voice.

“No, that’s alright, I can handle him.” George relented and cautiously let go of the little boy’s wrists so he could pick him up under the armpits and set him on his hip. He started to walk around the cardboard boxes towards the ensuite, speaking to your son in a stern but affectionate tone, “Alright, mate, let's get you clean. You're sticky and slimy, and Daddy's not too happy about it.”

He barely stepped foot in the bathroom when the little boy smacked a slimy palm against his father’s cheek with a giggle. 

George's eyes widened in shock and disgust, grabbing his wrist again with his free hand and a firm huff of your son’s name, “Ugh, seriously? That's gross!”

You spoke before you could think, a smirk playing at your lips at the entire situation, “You've had it in worse places.”

At your comment, George shot you a disapproving look over his shoulder, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of course, you had to bring that up at the most inopportune moment. Trying to keep his voice even as he continued into the bathroom, he replied with a flat, “Now is not the time for that kind of smartass remark, love.” 

Once they were inside the bathroom, George set the two-year-old down on the ground next to the bathtub. He turned on the water, making sure it was the right temperature before testing it with his hand, not bothering to interact with how the little boy smacked his greasy hands on the front of his shorts.

“Okay, buddy, let's get you cleaned up,” George said, still trying to sound stern despite the underlying amusement he felt from the whole situation. He started to take off the boy’s clothes, one piece at a time, while shaking his head in disbelief.

The little one squirmed, protesting with a little whine, “Nooo bath, Dada.”

George let out a sigh as your son protested against the bath, his toddler stubbornness making itself known once again. The joys of the terrible and trying twos.

“Oh, come on, mate, you need a bath. You're all sticky and slimy. You'll feel much better afterward, I promise,” he said, gently but firmly, trying to keep up a patient demeanor while he removed the last of his clothes. He folded them haphazardly and left them on the closed toilet lid beside the tub.

The toddler tried to put his fingers in his mouth again.

Once more, George caught his wrist just in time, “No, no, no, we don't do that. Keep your hands out of your mouth, you little rascal.”

Without wasting another second, George lifted the toddler up and into the bathtub and immediately submerged his hands to try and get the worst of it off. Of course, he would still need a scrub since the lube somehow got everywhere. George then grabbed a washcloth and started to lather it up with some baby-safe soap.

“You know, I never imagined I'd be bathing my two-year-old son in the middle of the day because he decided to play with lubricant,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief with a faint chuckle as he scrubbed the boy down. The irony of it all wasn't lost on him.

Unknowing what he was really talking about or meaning but still liking the soft tone of George’s voice, the little boy giggled along with him. George’s fingers raked through his son’s hair, only to find remnants of slippery lube somehow streaked through the soft strands too. 

“Yeah, it's funny now, isn't it? Just wait until you're a grown-up, and I tell this story at your wedding,” George teased in return to the clueless toddler, gently soaping up and rinsing the boy's hair. “We'll be talking all about the time you decided to turn yourself into a slimy, wriggly little mess by playing with mommy and daddy's private stuff.”

Soon, once the giggly little boy was sufficiently scrubbed and rinsed and clean, George drained the tub and wrapped him in a soft, fluffy towel.

“There we go, all clean and spiffy again.” he said, picking up the toddler and starting to dry him off with gentle pats.

Wrapped in the big fluffy white towel, the little boy looked so cute and tiny in his arms. He stared back at George with only his little face and a small tuft of damp hair poking out from the towel that nearly swallowed him, nothing but big blue eyes taking up most of his face. 

George couldn't help but melt at the sight of his son, all wrapped up in the towel, looking at him with those big, blue eyes that were his very own. It was moments like those that made all the stress and chaos and mess of parenting worthwhile. He cuddled his boy close, running his hand gently over the little one’s back over the thick fabric of the towel to keep him warm and dried.

“You're a little troublemaker, you know that?” George muttered against your son’s head before pressing a kiss to the same spot, “But you're my little troublemaker, and I love you.”

Content and warm and cozy, the little boy flopped his head onto his father’s shoulder.

George smiled and felt a warm, protective feeling fill his chest as the toddler leaned his head against his shoulder. He snuggled him closer with a soft and gentle voice, “Yeah, you're all cuddly now, huh? All that exploring and playing and bathing wore you out?”

When he carried the little one back out into your bedroom, you looked up from your packing, smiling fondly at the sweet sight of them. George, somewhat frazzled but still as handsome as ever with your son on his hip in a towel far too big for him but one that made him look ridiculously adorable. 

You greeted them softly, “There are my boys.” 

George walked over to you, his hands under the little one’s bum to hold him snuggled against his chest, his cheek resting atop his son’s head. 

“Yeah, here we are.” he said in a breathy sing-song voice, only ever used around your little one, “All cleaned up.”

Your son’s big blue eyes sought you out and he wriggled away from George’s chest to reach his tiny arms out from the towel towards you instead with a sweet call of, “Mama.”

“Come here, my little love.” you cooed, reaching for him in return. 

George passed him over to you, the exchange making the towel slip off the little boy’s body for a moment until you gathered it back from your husband’s hands and tucked it back around the toddler. George chuckled faintly at the sight of the little one just as naked as the day he was born and still searching for the comfort of your embrace.

When your son was snuggled up in your arms instead, you asked him sweetly, “What’s the big idea going through mommy and daddy’s things, hm?”

George tutted in agreement and made sure the towel was sufficiently wrapped around his little body to keep him from catching a chill. The toddler just smiled innocently and batted his long lashes at his father and clung onto your shirt. 

George shook his head, amused and charmed, “It's not fair. He's so sweet and adorable that it makes it difficult to stay cross with him.”

“He’s just a curious little explorer.” you said with a smile, peppering a few kisses to your son’s head. “Who can be cross with him for that?”

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[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER FOUR: holy waters

masterlist

“Give it up for Miss Ayesha Erotica, everyone!” Yn announced with infectious enthusiasm over the radio waves.

Miwa, sporting vibrant teal hair and an equally vibrant grin, followed up with theatrical flair, “God, I love emo boy!”

Yn shot her a smirk. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s a sentiment we can all get behind, right?”

Miwa didn’t miss a beat, her excitement bubbling over as she declared, “No Yn, I really, really love emo boys!”, being sure to enunciate the s at the end.

Yn’s face contorts as a picture of Megumi flashes through her mind.“That makes one of us,” Yn quipped, “but I see your point.”

“Seriously, though,” Miwa said, barely containing her glee, “today is shaping up to be amazing!”

Yn arched an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh? Do tell.”

Miwa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she revealed, “Because Tridant has graced us with 10 free tickets to their show this Saturday, and we’re giving them away!”

Yn’s face twisted into a mix of dread and disbelief, her jaw nearly hitting the studio floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered into the mic, trying to cover her panic with a forced grin. “Trident? You know I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard.”

Miwa’s eyes widened in playful astonishment. “Huh, since when did you become such a critic?”

Yn leaned over and mouthed, “Just roll with it.”

Miwa nodded, her grin widening. “I know, but that’s exactly why this is going to be hilarious. We’re going to make someone’s day—and maybe even get you to enjoy yourself.”

Yn groaned dramatically. “Alright, but if I have to endure this concert, you owe me a full day of Solange on the station.”

Miwa clapped her hands together, her laughter echoing. “Deal! Alright, listeners, if you want a shot at these coveted tickets, call in now and tell us why you’re the ultimate Tridant fan. And don’t forget to shout out how much you adore these emo boys!”

As the phone lines lit up with eager callers, YN slumped back in her chair, torn between dread and reluctant amusement. Despite her best efforts to look disgruntled, she couldn’t help but be drawn in by Miwa’s infectious enthusiasm. And she knew Twitter would have a field day with this one—especially with a certain raven-haired boy likely to make an appearance in the trending topics.

“Megumi, get off your phone! We need to practice otherwise Gojo will be up our asses!” Yuta barked, his voice cutting through the cluttered practice room like a drill sergeant.

The space was strewn with old gear, tangled cables, and random junk, making it look like a tornado had hit a music store. Yuta, already in dad mode, stormed out, his footsteps echoing off the mismatched walls as he went in search of something crucial.

“Yeah, but Toge’s on his phone too,” Megumi shot back, his fingers still scrolling through his screen, barely lifting his gaze.

“Yeah, but nobody gives a fuck about him,” Yuji interjected from the corner of the room, where he was perched on a drum stool, grinning like he’d just won a prize.

“Suck my dick ,” Toge retorted, his white hair bouncing as he turned, looking genuinely miffed.

Megumi rolled his eyes with exaggerated drama, reluctantly shoving his phone into his back pocket. He could feel the buzzing vibrations through his jeans and couldn’t help but smirk, taking a twisted pleasure in the fact that he was managing to irk you.

“Ugh, Megumi, why are you grinning like that? A jumpscare warning would’ve been nice,” Toge commented, half-annoyed, half-amused, from his spot by the amp.

“Go fuck yourself,” Megumi snapped back, his smugness evaporating into a gruff irritation.

Did he really find joy in annoying you? Megumi mused, a hint of doubt creeping in.

“Hey, Megumi, you seem unusually cheerful today,” Yuta announced as he reentered, clutching whatever he’d gone to fetch with an air of importance.

“See? Even Yuta’s noticed,” Toge snarked, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“So what’s up, big guy?” Yuji asked, his grin widening as he strolled over, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Did you finally get your dick sucked or something?” Toge blurted out, his tone blunt and unapologetic.

“Why would that make me happy?” Megumi shot back, genuinely confused.

“Because everyone can tell when you’re sex-deprived,” Toge replied matter-of-factly, adding with a laugh, “Plus the horny slash hate subtweets you’ve been posting do nothing for your case.”

“I’m not sex-deprived,” Megumi insisted, his face turning a shade of crimson.

“MY BOY!” Yuji cheered, rushing in for a celebratory dap.

“Not like that,” Megumi murmured, his cheeks burning as the room erupted in laughter, the awkwardness of the situation making it clear that maybe he should have kept his phone in his pocket.

“Alright, let’s get down to business. We need to nail this new song for our upcoming gig,” Yuta finally says as the laughter dies down, holding a stack of sheet music with an air of importance.

“Finally!” Yuji cheered, bouncing on his drum stool.

“Yeah, yeah,” Toge muttered, putting his phone away and grabbing the microphone. “Let’s see what this new song’s all about.”

Yuta handed out the lyric sheets and nodded at the band. “This one’s a bit different—more upbeat. I want to hear energy and precision. Let’s start with the intro and build from there.”

extras!

• the band in sjap is called triDANT not triDENT bc the group collectively came up with the name together but toge was the one entrusted (first mistake) who had to write it down for copyright purposes etc paper work ete anyways this man CANNOT spell so that's why it's with an A instead of an E lol

• yes the group definitely clowned him for it but they couldn't change it so it stuck and they ran with it

• toge did go to the gym but he snuck in when yuji went and they definitely blasted him on their social media page and stuck his face on the wall of shame😭

• the tickets sold out COMPLETLY and yn lowkey wanted one for herself…

• definitely did not smile to herself when panda told them he scored her tickets thanks to toge..

• dramatic ass

• megumi has convinced himself he only texts yn to piss herself and nothing more than that

• i aspire to be at his level of delusion

• yn, panda and nobara all went to whole foods and asked if they had any close to expire tomato’s at the back (they did)

• they went home with 2 crates full of the most saggiest wettest tomato’s in existence

• hope u guys enjoyed the week overdue chap :3

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*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[luveline]

could I maybe request some more coworker james, maybe reader telling james about something she’s upset about? love you and your writing, hope you’re okay my love!! :)

thank you for requesting <3 fem, 1k

Today, James has moved your mug to the fridge. He laughs as he does it, while Sirius tuts and drinks a quick cup of tea by the sink. “You’re gonna bully her out of the job,” Sirius says. 

“This isn’t bullying. This is hazing. Light hazing. If she asks me where it is I’ll tell her, but she’ll find it.” He puts it on top of his lunch, practically begging for retaliation. 

You arrive in a fluster that morning, a few minutes late but no less pretty than usual. It’s irksome but nothing he feels the need to comment on, smiling to himself as you sit. Your desk knocks against his and sends his little Smiski figurine tumbling. 

“Sorry,” you say, reaching over to pick him up. You’re gentle putting him back on James' outgoings, your perfume floating his way. “Poor Smiski.” 

“I’m sure he’ll recover. What’s with the late start, princess?” 

You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t be a chauvinist.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” He can’t help grinning at you. James doesn’t believe that you genuinely think he’s a chauvinist, and so he doesn’t mind continuing to poke at you. “I hardly think calling you princess demonstrates any belief that I’m better than you. I am better than you.” He bites. “What’s with the hair?” 

You’ve had your hair done. It looks gorgeous and like it took half a day, but he doesn’t mention that. 

“I have to go with Sirius today to talk to Enlighten limited.” 

“Why would you have to do that?” 

“Sirius says I’m the administrator’s type.” 

“And he’s using you as bait?” James asks incredulously. 

You turn the Smiski so he’s facing James’ monitor. “He said I shall be greatly rewarded.” You’ve had your nails done, their beds shiny with lacquer, your cuticles finely manicured. 

You put your bag under your desk. Your hands shift in your lap. 

James watches in bridled horror when you leave. To the outward observer he doesn’t care because he shouldn’t, but he can’t believe it when you go —you’re a beautiful girl and he’s awful inside, he hates that you’re pretty, he hates that you’ve had your hair done to go see somebody, he sort of hates that Sirius is using you like a poster girl to facilitate business. You’re a water safety company. What is wrong with him? What’s wrong with James?

“She looked nice, didn’t she?” Remus asks. 

James ignores him diligently. He tries to ignore the entire world for a few hours, completing three times as much work as he usually would and dedicatedly avoiding the thought of your hands while he does it. 

You didn’t even notice that he moved your mug. How embarrassing is that? James thinks he might dig a hole and throw himself in it before you get back. 

Later, you return. You’re both with weak smiles as you sit down and Sirius stands behind Remus. 

“Did it go okay?” Remus asks, tipping his head back. 

Sirius frowns but gives his boyfriend a nice kiss on the cheek anyways. “I don’t think they’re gonna choose us this time. It’s fine. Now come with me so I can make you some tea, handsome.” 

You tuck your chair in as they go. 

“Didn’t go well?” James asks you. 

You shake your head. For a moment you stare at your keyboard, and then you turn to him with a wobbly smile. “I think I really messed it up for him, James.” 

“How would you do that?” 

“I tried to be conversational, you know. Sirius is so chatty. But I kept saying the wrong things. I asked him about his daughter. He had all these photos on the wall, but she died last June. Just decimated the mood.” Your brow wrinkles. You cover your frown with two fingers. “Sirius wasn’t mad.” 

“He wouldn’t be mad at you for a shit business meeting, he’s not like that. I don’t think anyone can blame you for that.” 

You pause again. “You’re sure?” 

You’d been expecting a joke, it seems. James had meant to make fun of you, but your honesty threw him off. He struggles to say anything else, the two of you looking at one another in mutual surprise, until insecurity flashes in your eyes and you peel back. 

James turns his head to his spreadsheet, though his eyes remain on you. 

“I know he’s not mad at me, but he should be. He took me with him to help and I…” You rub your lips together, what little that’s left of your lipgloss spreading thin. “I really thought I could do it.” 

“You can. If poaching clients were hard, Sirius wouldn’t have a job.” He feels bad for diminishing Sirius’ efforts, joke or not, and he softens his tone. “What makes you think you can’t do it? Because you made a mistake? You couldn’t have known it was a sore subject.” 

“I feel silly. I felt so stupid sitting in his office, I looked like an idiot.” 

“No, you didn’t.” James bites the inside of his lip to stop from saying anything ridiculous, but his eyes stray. He looks at your eyes, your soft cheek, the curve of your neck and your hair and your lips, rubbed and bitten enough that your lipgloss is almost completely gone. You didn’t look stupid. You never…

James is in deep shit, it seems. You’re so pretty. 

For a moment, he can’t remember why he doesn’t like you. 

You falter under his gaze. “I guess I’m being childish, worrying,” you say tightly. 

“You’re not being childish.” James clears his throat, sits a bit straighter. “It’s okay to worry about stuff when it’s gone wrong, but I can go and ask Sirius right now if he thinks any of that was your fault and I know he’d say no. You tried your best,” —his hand slides across the desk, nowhere near touching you but an unconscious response— “okay?” 

“I tried my best,” you say softly. 

“And you looked scrumptious.” You snort. “But it’s back to business now, cool? You can’t mooch an entire day doing nothing, I need you to check off some of these spreadsheets for me, I’m missing a ton of laboratory numbers.” 

You rush to do as he’s said, and that’s that, the charged air between you simmers and dies. 

“James,” you say, with dawning horror, “how many of these did you do?” 

“I’m oh so productive when you’re not here to irritate me, apparently.” 

[ambrosiagoldfish]

hi! can i request headcanons of Adam x Male Angel! Reader who is sweet, kind and never curses? preferly sfw and nsfw but if u don't write smut for Male Reader, that's fine!

hope u have a Nice day <3

Adam x Kind Angel Reader HC’s

Warnings: General Adam TW’s, NSFW in latter half of post, He/Him pronouns with Male Genitalia. Slight Degradation/dirty talk. Fluff + Smut

Request Box: Open

Word Count: 820

A/n: thank you so much for the request! I had a lot of fun with this one! I did make it on the shorter side but that’s only because it’s quite difficult to make Headcanon’s 1000+ words without other characters but nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! Also I decided to make this little header thing for fics! I’ve seen a few others do it and the GIF’s I normally use are becoming a hassle to find. Let me know if you guys like it!

SFW

Oh boy, this relationship really is a match that could only be made in heaven. No one would have expected Adam to date a man who is the complete opposite of him. If anything, people expected someone like him or even Lute!! But you? They never could have predicted that.

But what can you do, opposites do attract.

You’re always being so kind to him, telling him he looks handsome, helping him with any and all work he might have to do, and on top of it you bring him gifts and trinkets! Not to mention all the delicious treats you get him that are almost as sweet as you.

And to be honest, this really messes with Adam, cause you’re literally so sweet and thoughtful but he doesn’t have anything to give you in return besides sex. At least that’s what he thinks but in reality he gives you so much more than he gives himself credit for.

He plays you songs on the guitar, takes you out to fancy restaurants, and over all treats you with love and affection than any other has. But even if none of that was true, you don’t do anything and everything for him because you want something in return. You love Adam completely unconditionally.

The no cursing thing is something that genuinely gets on his nerves. Cause like, he could never. This man has the mouth of a sailor and the delicacy of a bull in a china shop. Which is one of the traits you love about him, that he says what he wants. But also you’re just like “Sir, this is not what The Father intended-“

“Neither was putting my dick in another guys ass but look, I’m still here bitch!”

And it especially bugs Adam, if instead of cursing, you replace swears with other words. Like the other day you stubbed your toe when landing on ground and Adam had fully expected for you to do what he does, which is scream the loudest swear and be pissed off at everyone for 20 minutes. But instead….

“OW Fudging chocolate chip-“

“JUST SAY FUCK”

So, ever since that day, Adam has sworn to one day take your ‘cursing virginity’, at least that’s what he calls it. And he try’s so hard to do so, which is a slight bit of trouble cause he doesn’t want to like, be a complete douche to you.

So until he figures out a way to get you to curse, he’s pretty stumped at the moment. But still, he absolutely adores you.

NSFW

Oh Boy x2

Everything I said previously still stands if not double the amount. This man wants to do the👏Most👏Unholiest👏Things👏To👏You👏

Loves to see your kind and sweet personality slowly crumble because of his cock.

‘Who knew you could be such a slut?’

He loves that your personality carries over during sex, you give him everything you’ve got and then some. You want to do your best for him after all.

Speaking of which, if you worship him in any way that man is cumming IMMEDIATELY. He really just wants to feel like he’s above everyone else, and Surprise surprise, he has a praise and you being the, oh so thoughtful person you are, you make sure to completely indulge that aspect of him.

You babble so much about how good his cock feels hitting your prostate over and over again. How well he’s making you feel like like the Good Boy he is. It really gets it him going.

Remember how I said he’s trying to make you lose your ‘Cursing Virginity’? Yeah well, this is how. He is SO determined to get you to spill out just one swear while he goes to town on you. Is it the most holy thing he should do? No. But how could he not fuck your brains out till you break your own moral code?

He tries so hard too. He has yet to get you there but he has come close. When he had you in a mating press, legs over his shoulders, your ankle’s lightly hitting the base of his wings with each thrust.. You couldn’t stop begging for him to cum inside you as you came for the Xth time in a row.

“Please Adam! P-Please! Fu~“ you cut yourself off with a hand to your mouth.

Adam looked at you with his signature grin, his hips not stopping their movements to pump himself in and out of you. “Was you about to say something babe?”

You held your hand against your mouth shaking your head ‘no’ clearly trying to make it seem like you weren’t about to drop the f bomb.

“Mhm, right~ let’s see if I can pry some other ‘naughty’ fuxkin’ words out of ya!” He laughs a wicked laugh as he switches the position so that he’s somehow even more atop of you. Leaving you a completely, moaning, helpless mess for him to dominate >:)

[scoops-aboy86]

Realize You’re Living (Secret Admirer pt 5)

Steddie Week 2024, July 5: Reunion / exes to lovers or getting back together / Wasted Years by Iron Maiden

Sorry. Not for the delay in posting, I just think I'm gonna get yelled at for reasons.

wc: 2815 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

There isn’t time to send Steve another letter before Friday. 

There isn’t time, not through the mail, and there’s no way Eddie is risking physically putting something in the Harrington’s mailbox himself. That would mean running the risk of someone finding out, and that still ignites an old fear in the most primal part of his brain that screams at him to run. No matter who it is. 

On the other hand, standing Steve up for their phone date is not an option. The very idea makes his insides freeze over. They’ve both had to reassure each other that they want to continue this epistolary romance, Jesus H. Christ—there’s been too much hot and cold already to pull something like that. 

Eddie rolls over on his bed to lay face down and screams into his pillow. It's like they’re in a relationship, except Steve doesn’t even know who he is. It's absurd. An absolute clown town of his own making.

Okay. Okay, no, he can do this. (Can he?) All he has to do is relax and stay calm until tomorrow night. He’ll call at 10:30 on the dot and play Steve some Iron Maiden or something, maybe a little Dio, a smidge of Black Sabbath, throw in a dash of Judas Priest… Basically play the guy a mix tape, live. 

He whips his head up and all but dives for his side table, looking for the tin where he keeps his weed. It’ll help him chill out enough to come up with a song list. And he needs all the chill he can get. He’s lost his mom to cancer, his dad to addiction and prison, and his childhood home with them—he refuses to lose Steve if he has even half a chance of actually having Steve. Because if this whole secret admirer thing is going where he hardly dares to hope it is, this could be the most important mix tape of his entire goddamn life. 

Steve spends all of Friday so on edge that Robin starts threatening to drop banana peels in the circuit he keeps pacing behind the counter. 

“What is with you today, dingus?”

He stops, tapping his foot restlessly and removing his hat so he can rake a hand through his hair. “Nothing, nothing, I… have an important call tonight, is all. I think.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Oooh, is it a pretty girl?” she teases.

“Maybe,” he mutters with a halfhearted shrug. He really still doesn’t know, and it doesn’t seem likely he’ll find out tonight. “I’m not even sure they’ll call. It’s… kind of a blind date sort of thing.”

“A blind phone date?” Robin looks like she doesn’t know what to do with that, which. Fair. “Is that a thing?”

Steve shrugs again. He goes back to pacing. “It might be. I’ll find out tonight I guess.”

She gives him a minute before butting in again, spraying more Windex on the display case to get the lunch rush’s grubby child fingerprints off the cool glass. “...Is this because of the board?”

Again, Steve stops. “What?”

“The You Rule / You Suck board. Have I accidentally degraded your confidence in yourself so much that you’ve turned to blind dates as an alternative to trying to seduce any and every girl who walks in here?” 

Her tone is flippant, but because they’ve been on better terms recently—especially since Steve started offering her rides (and let her take control of the tape deck after that time she threatened to throw all of his Wham! tapes out the window)—he decides to take it as a genuine question. 

“No. Well—No, it’s more the hat than that. It messes up my best feature, you know?” He runs a hand through his hair again, fluffing it up more, then slumps against the back counter next to the milkshake blenders with a sigh. “It’s kind of a pen pal thing. We’ve been talking for a while but we haven’t met, but… I think it might be going somewhere good.”

Robin stops her bored polishing of the display case, only half of the afternoon rush’s smudges and fingerprints wiped away, to laugh with a slight shake of her head. “Oh wow, King Steve is a romantic. Who knew?”

“Not me before junior year, that’s for sure,” he scoffs honestly. 

She studies him thoughtfully for a moment. “Makes sense. Kind of lines up with something I heard the other day, when—”

But then they’re interrupted by a couple strolling in for some ice cream. Robin rushes through cleaning the rest of the glass so as to get out of their way, and Steve scoops and rings them up while she moves on to wiping down tables, conversation forgotten. 

Eddie’s finished his playlist and his plan is to call early. Not too early, just… a minute, five minutes tops. His uncle leaves for work before 10, so he has plenty of time and he’s buzzing with nervous energy. 

Way too much nervous energy to carry into the Big Call tonight. 

By the time Wayne is out the door, Eddie’s already started on rolling a joint and rereading Steve’s letters from start to current. If he’d been smart he would’ve written out copies of his own for a more complete read, that in depth analysis his English teachers never shut up about… but alas. 

Usually his memory is pretty good, especially when it comes to his own work. He also hadn’t expected this to go on as long as it had; not really. But now he can hardly imagine what it would be like to know Steve only from a distance anymore and that… colors things. Fuck only knows what he’s remembering wrong because of a simple difference in perspective. 

Because Steve has let him in, Eddie acknowledges as he lines the weed up on the paper. He’s written things about his home life, about his old friends, and definitely about his injuries over the past couple years (though oddly enough never much about what actually caused them) that Eddie would bet good money that no one else knows, if only because Steve doesn’t seem to have anyone else to tell. Maybe those kids he babysits (begrudgingly but genuinely dotes on, Eddie’s seen it from a distance). But really, how much can you realistically talk to a thirteen year old? Eddie remembers being thirteen; he hadn’t listened to anyone for shit. It was a miracle Wayne hadn’t just released him into the woods like a wild animal. 

And all Eddie’s been doing is pulling Steve close, while steadfastly keeping him out. God. 

He licks the joint to seal it, lights up, and keeps rereading. 

Steve is standing by the phone in his kitchen watching the second hand on the clock. How it sneaks around the clock face, slow but steady, until it laps the 12 line and it’s 10:31. 

He slumps back against the kitchen island with a groan. That had been an absolutely excruciating minute, and he’s staring down the barrel of another fifty-nine more until he can reasonably give up hope. Because anything under an hour is just running late, right? Something could have come up, something unavoidable like… family coming home unexpectedly, making a private conversation impossible. 

… Okay, maybe that was a stress dream he’d had last night about his parents, but something like it could happen to anyone.

10:32. The second hand barely makes it past fifteen this time before the silence is split by the shriek of ringing in the otherwise silent house. Steve multitasks, jumping out of his skin and lunging to answer the phone at the same time.

“HelloHarringtonresidence, thisisStevehowcanIhelpyou?” he rushes out. 

There’s no response except breathing on the other end of the line, which would be creepy if it weren’t exactly what he was hoping for. 

(Eddie is pressing a hand over his mouth, keeping in an equal parts amused and disbelieving laugh at how Steve had answered the phone, all flustered and cute and overly formal in an automatic sort of way that suggests an ingrained habit. From what he knows about Steve’s parents, he’s not terribly surprised, but it’s still such a delightfully dorky greeting.

And it seems like Steve really was waiting by the phone for his call, which makes Eddie want to fucking dance.)

“Is that you?” After a second, a light bulb goes off in Steve’s head and he adds, “Oh. Uh, tap once for yes, twice for no?”

It takes a few seconds, but then he hears a single tap against the plastic of the other receiver. 

(Smart, Eddie would tell him if he could. If he dared. He sucks hard on the last of his joint before letting the smoke billow from his nose like a dragon and putting it out in the ashtray by his bed. Maybe he mashes it in a little harder than necessary, blaming it for being late even though that’s really just another one of his bad habits at this point.)

Relief breaks over Steve like a wave. “Oh my god, it’s you. You’re the, um, my secret admirer?”

Tap. 

(Yeah sweetheart, it’s me.)

Steve does a little bounce on the balls of his feet and pumps his fist, too giddy to feel stupid about it with no one watching. “Holy shit. I mean, t-thanks for calling. Sorry, my parents make me answer the phone like that.” 

Nothing. 

(Eddie is smiling. Beaming, really. I figured, he imagines saying. At first it makes his heart feel full just thinking about it, but then has to stop that line of thought before his anxiety conjures up all the ways Steve Harrington, until recently Hawkins High’s resident ladies man, might react to the surprise of being on a phone date with a guy. Jesus, how is he high and still so nervous?)

“Right, you can’t answer. I mean, you can, if you want, but you don’t have to. This is, this is to see how I like your music.” Steve rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Did you want to play something for me now, or…”

Tap. 

(All the tapes are on standby, spread out in chaotic order around the second-hand player he got last year after Wayne’s old one crapped out on him. Eddie cranks up the volume as high as it’ll go; he’s used to it, the neighbors are resigned to it, and Steve won’t be able to hear it well enough to count through the phone otherwise.)

The first song starts, and Steve twists the phone cord between his fingers as he stands in his kitchen and listens. There’s a heavy beat and a noticeable bass line, even over the phone, nothing like the pop rock he usually listens to. But…

“… I definitely didn’t hate it,” he says once the last notes fade out. 

(Eddie is vibrating as he hits pause and ejects the tape, elated, a few of his worries already soothed. Steve doesn’t hate metal. That doesn’t necessarily mean Steve will like him, but it’s got to make the odds at least a little better, right? He wants to say fuck yeah or I love you or, fucking… shriek wordlessly or something, but presses his hand over his cotton-dry mouth instead, hard enough that his gums ache a little.)

“It kind of reminded me of AC/DC? Like Back in Black, or Hells Bells.”

(They’re not one of Eddie’s favorites, didn’t even make the playlist. But they’re harder rock than he expected Steve to be familiar with, and suddenly he has a wild urge to know what the guy thinks of You Shook Me All Night Long.)

“One time, the radio played Big Balls in the car and my mom literally clutched her pearls and said, ‘I don’t think he’s talking about ballroom dancing, Richard!’” 

(Eddie grins as the funny little falsetto Steve put on for the impression fades into a rich laugh, like he’s so tickled by the memory that he can’t help it. There was probably some appalled, classic white-anglo-saxon-protestant-sucking-on-a-lemon expression on her face that he’s picturing, while Eddie can only imagine. It’s okay, Eddie is too busy wanting to pour Steve’s laugh into a bathtub and soak in it.)

Tap. 

“Yeah, really not,” Steve agrees, his cheeks almost aching from smiling so wide. He feels lighter than air just knowing he’s on the phone with the person who’s been writing to him the past couple months, knowing he’s proving that they’re genuinely at least a little bit compatible. “So, what’s the next song?”

It goes on like that. Steve doesn’t know the artists or albums or track titles, but figures that Secret Admirer will fill him in with the next letter. There are a couple of songs that are more shouting than singing for his taste—“I like songs I can sing along to once I know the words, you know? Really belt out in the car after a long day, or something,” he explains, and gets a yes tap in response. 

(Eddie has to improvise. Instead of another WASP song, he reaches for an Iron Maiden tape he’d put aside as a half-assed backup and scours the track list, trying to decide… Ah, that one. He pops it in and turns the volume down for a second so he can check that he’s fast forwarding to the right spot on the tape.

This one’s for you, sweetheart, he thinks, lighting a second joint—not for nerves this time, but just for fun. He leans back and lets the smoke fill his lungs, fill his mind, send him floating off to whatever time of that big house Steve is curled up in so he can spiritually throw an arm around the other guy’s shoulders.)

Steve likes the instrumentals in the intro of this one. He doesn’t really track the words at first once they start—usually doesn’t, on a first listen-through, with so much new to take in. But he starts catching on to the shape of them by the first of what turns out to be the chorus. 

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years

Too much time on my hands, I got you on my mind Can't ease this pain so easily When you can't find the words to say, hard to make it through another day And it makes me wanna cry, throw my hands up to the sky

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years, hey!

He listens, slowly untangling himself from the long phone cord and taking a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. When the song finally fades out and he hears the far-off click of the tape being stopped and taken out, he asks hopefully, “It’s about seizing the day, right?”

Maybe they’re building up to telling him who they are, or at least giving him a little more. 

(Eddie freezes, not expecting Steve—who had told him he didn’t get things on the first try—to venture any insights. Especially on a song that hadn’t been on his list, a last minute change-up that he’d picked with the transformation from King Steve to just normal guy Steve in mind and how Steve seems so hung up on apologizing for the douchebag he used to be. 

Or at least, used to be on the outside. Every day, Eddie gets a little less sure that persona went much further than skin-deep.

A tiny sound curls out of Eddie’s throat, a barely audible, inquisitive hum. Something that says please, keep going. He knows Steve has heard it because of the quick intake of breath over the line.)

Steve clutches the handset so hard that his knuckles go white. It’s the first sound, the first crumb that Secret Admirer has given him that’s really them, not a tap on plastic or other people’s music. Too quiet to make out any distinguishing features, but it’s something. 

It feels like everything. 

“You could, you know,” Steve says softly. “You could… make a stand? If you told me who you are, or just anything more about you, I… I really like you. I know for sure that I want to know you. Maybe that makes me a romantic sap, but it’s true. What if we find out we could have our golden years right now?”

(Eddie is freaking out. The mellow of his high isn’t helping anymore, all the floaty syrupy hopefulness of it stripped away. Oh fuck oh balls oh shit, shit, shit!

He’s hyperventilating, knows Steve can probably hear it, and he’s nothing but a goddamn coward in the end.

He can't do this.)

There’s a single clunk, and then all Steve hears is dial tone.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs

[xesiarah]

“˚₊‧ UNLUCKY ENCOUNTER ‧₊˚ ”

Yan!Loser oc x Reader

Synopsis — some call it a coincidence, some say it's fate, but I say it's absolute utter fucking, bullshit.

—

—

"I'm sorry."

The other line hangs up, the irrational telephone beep ringing against your ear as you genuinely start feeling the symptoms of hysteria bubbling up your chest and clamming up your breathing. At this point you definitely wouldn't say no to a fucking lobotomy.

This week has been feeling like the universe is actively trying to kill you off, like as if already getting coffee spilled on you wasn't bad enough; You, in this modern age and time having to use the telephone because your phone was snatched, along with your favorite handbag, containing the newly expensive perfume you brought still half full, and then just now your partner of 2 years breaks up with you after you asked them for help because you tripped on a rock, resulting on a sprained ankle and having to distressingly limp all the way to the phone booth.

Coincidence? Yeah, I think not. Just before this hell week was 3 days after your best friend ditched you for her new boyfriend, 4 days after you fucked up an important exam, and A WEEK after you befriended that jackass freak at school. Losing a few people here and there was to be expected but, c'mon! Isn't this just a new form of torture? You're sure that he was the one that caused all this, who else is to blame!? Maybe the rumor that said he must have all that hair to hide the dent he got when he was dropped as a baby was true, I mean. He probably performed some dark sorcery on you for whatever reason.. or maybe he's a sick masochist that fucks over people who don't treat him like an accused witch during the Salem Witch Trials. — Seriously, it was as if the universe's will to make that mfs life a living hell has rubbed off on you. But you know what, yeah.. It's fine, you can live with this.

Or not. Your alarm blaring for you to awaken gladly disturbs your nightmarish slumber, this is the 3rd time. The THIRD TIME! You've dreamt about him. — of that freak that brought you to your misery, who knows, what if dreaming about him more then once was some sort of bad omen? The 3rd time being on the first day of the week nonetheless. Of course the birds are extra chirper, you thought that maybe they're basking on your torment, if they were, you hope stray bullets manages to shoot all of them dead because we aren't having that kind of bullshit today. — You have finally devised a plan to avoid Satan's reincarnate for the rest of the school year as if they were carrying a covid variant. Finally getting that horrendous goblin off your back would feel like it's the second coming of Christ, and you're not about to let any twinks get in the way of living your life free from any agony inducing minger either.

You manage to find the will to exist. Entering the gates of your school muttering prayers to God, and whatever other deity that’s listening, to please not let you set sights of his probably-smells-like-cheese, greasy ass hair, the overgrown bangs covering ⅔ of his hazel eyes that always seemed to bother you, he even has those weird Incel glasses on.. maybe that one rumor that said he had some sort of eye fungus just makes this all more oddly debatable. You wander through the empty hallways, not seeing a single student kinda unsettles you. — makes sense though, It's pretty early, and you've never seen him around this time so, the coast is clear, for now, or so you thought. — You were approaching the rows of vending machines all pushed up against the back of the building when you caught a glimpse of a silhouette you're all too familiar with, he seems to be sketching something, not that you totally cared for whatever it was. You shrug, but when you were about to turn to leave he gets up and walks towards the boys bathroom, leaving his precious notebook unattended, out in the open, where anyone could take a peak... Just a little peak, alright? You tiptoed, walking towards it in longer strides to minimize your footsteps, upon getting closer, you notice the front page already wide open, as if he purposely left it like that, — that should've been the first red flag. Because inspecting it a little further made your jaw slack, the thing he was sketching.. was you. "What the fuck, I look amazing." You mutter, it's a little creepy but you're flattered with the way he straight up beautified you, admiring it for a little longer then you should've had was a mistake though, because just when you took your eyes off of the notebook, you see him literally lurking and hiding behind the bathroom's entrance. He's wide-eyed, and a huge creepy grin plastered on his face. — Genuinely scaring the flattery out of you and making you bolt straight to the opposite direction on instinct, the way he looked at you literally triggered your flight or fight. The sound of your fast footsteps filled the hallways, your heart going pitter-patter, quite literally about to burst out your chest. Fuck. Just your luck. Guess this won't be an easy day to get through.

Morning lectures are finally over. Which means you can finally celebrate the fact that you pushed through and made it to lunchtime! It was still agonizing nonetheless, waiting around corners to let him pass kind of felt like you're stalking him, can't say that you didn't get any weird looks either. The worse part was definitely him searching and skimming through the halls, asking everyone for your whereabouts, half of them made themselves look busy so he wouldn't approach them, and the other half straight up ran the opposite direction as if he threatened to bite their toes or something. Weirdly enough, most of them ended up slipping on wet floor, which just further gives in to your suspicion of him practicing dark sorcery. Anyways, you're proud of the little progress you made, and that's all that matters for now.

—

—

Lucian sits alone, his table is tucked away in the very corners of the cafeteria, no one even daring to glance at his direction, he used to typically eat in the bathrooms but nobody wants him in their presence to the point that they all stand up and leave when he approaches a table. — there's just this weird air surrounding the dude that automatically repels people away, and no it's not body oder dammit! He just gets greasy fast, and probably for threatening to unalive a teacher but that isn't important! The love of his life is avoiding him! He chews on his fingernails as he ponders, possible reasons fill his head, and they aren't very good ones. — Did someone make you do this? Is there someone else...? That surely can't be. That's just cheating isn't it? You love him after all! He saw the glint in your eyes when you looked at the portrait he drew of you. He could even show you his shrine! Made just for you, containing such precious things you lost! — His excessive chewing of his fingernails grow desperate to the point of drawing blood, he grimaces at the sight of crimson streaks, wiping it on the sleeves of his hoodie. — it just can't be. Why would you do him wrongly like this? You smiled at him, you laughed with him instead of AT him, you sat together.. So why!? Are you gonna leave him like his mother did..? Was that all a joke to you..? He just couldn't accept this, you aren't that kind of person! You know what, he finally snaps. he just has to hear an answer from you. — "He's right behind me, isn't he?" The person right Infront of you nods, and immediately scurries away. At this point you're frozen in place, what the fuck do you do? Just make a run for it? "Can we please talk..?" He speaks behind you, his hand is on your shoulder. You swallow, the remaining bits of your conscience crumbling as you fucking make a run for it, aggressive footsteps follow behind and you realize HE'S CHASING AFTER YOU. You have never let out such a gut wrenching scream than what you just did in this exact moment. — You hide behind a wall, thinking you've lost him. Not until a hand grabs onto your arm.

—

—

He caught you. He has you pinned against the wall, not in a shoujo cutsy romantic way, he looks as if he's a starved vampire about to chomp on your neck, and not in a good way. Just no fucking way this scrawny mf outran you. Another 'unfortunately' for you too, the Gods did not answer your prayers. You're trapped in between the arms of the man you swore to avoid like the plague for the rest of the school year, this was definitely not on your 2024 bingo list. You didn't even last till' the end of the day and that lowkey hurts your pride. — But holy smokes, they say that you experience something new everyday, and this is the first time you've seen him up close, messy bedroom hair, teary eyes that looked like he hasn't slept since the first star wars movie came out. Wowza. If he actually made an effort, or if he didn't have such unsettling vibes, you can't lie, he'd be a revelation hottie. — ... Shit. Not the time to be thinking about his potential glow up. — Poor guy, watching him trying to maintain eye contact but just failing horribly is kinda cute.

......

......

......

The fuck? Your face scrunches up just after you snap back out of, whatever that was. Seriously.. say WHAT now? That was a demon possession right there, you need to stop acting as if his existence didn't just cause your downfall unprovoked. "You're avoiding me.." His voice disrupts the silent war you were having with yourself. It sounded meek, he genuinely looked like a shivering wet dog, with those.. tears boiling up his eyes, and.. quivering lips. Fuck. What if you'd just slide down his arms and escape? Hell no, if someone walked in they'd think you were giving him a blowjob and that's honestly worse then whatever's going on right now. "A-Answer me!" He yells(?) hesitantly, the dude genuinely looks like he's about to burst into tears any minute, you're surprised how he somehow grew the balls to yell at you though. "Okay, dude I'm sorry..?" — It's sad how he goes ballistic over a 'friendship' that lasted a week, but he did show you the list of student names he wanted to glock, and you listened to some of his nerdy ramblings, so you guess he did cherish your short time together even if you gave him absolutely zero fucks. — he goes completely quiet for a minute before he finally bursts out crying, fat tears are running through his acne filled face as he drops to the ground. "I really just wanted a someone-" He says in-between hiccups, he's crying as if you killed his mom or something. You decided to just wait it out until he grew tired but his wails started growing louder till' you were forced to crouch down and comfort him. "H-hey, uhm.." Fuck. Screw it. You know what, Who cares if your life starts crashing down, it already was unsalvageable from the very beginning anyway. Everyone needs a friend and you're too nice for this. You finally give in, breathing in a sigh of defeat. "How can I fix this?" His cries shimmer down and you swear to fucking God you think you just saw him flash a smirk. This bitch looks like he's bout to spit out the most outta pocket bullshit. — and he indeed did not disappoint. The two unexpected words coming out of his mouth just further inspires you to jump off a bridge. "d-date.. me."

......

......

......

Maybe hiring a hitman on yourself wouldn't be so bad.

[velvetures]

Vulnerable pt.2

A/N: Due to everyone's love for the first installment, here's a continuation! It's not full NS/FW to "completion", however, a third post will finish up the little mini-series if part two does well enough. Summary: After getting Ghost to release his tensions after a harsh mission, you're surprised to see how far things go. Ghost is just as shocked. TW's: sexual content NS/FW 18+ ONLY, fem reader, cursing, sexual thoughts, intimacy, not proofread. If I missed something... let me know.

Read Part One Here

Ghost’s eyes flicker in the dim light with something you’ve never seen before. It’s similar to the pain you’ve seen on his face when trying to nurse a stab or gunshot wound. Tinged around the edges with a panic and cracked lines of desperation. For such a strong and self-proclaimed heartless man, his eyes show so much deeper a story. One that calls out happily at the idea of keeping you close to him like this. Interested. Much more than he’d ever felt before.

“If you want to, we could lay down?” You suggest gently, looking at the bed and then back to him. “I’ll keep going.”

Those silently expressive eyes shift all over again. “Yes.”

You stay still, allowing him to choose the pace and tone of this. Wanting him comfortable and feeling safe with you. All of it could stop the second he made it clear, but for some reason, you really couldn’t understand why the Lieutenant was letting you in. And it wasn’t because you were massaging his back. Twisting his lower half onto the bed, Ghost shifted until settled down on the bed on his back, totally open to you. In his relaxed position, you can feel how the invisible magnets between you shift from pushing forces to pulling ones. Body heat radiating off of him and his steady breaths almost acted like a sleeping pill for you as you laid down next to him, careful not to edge into his personal space.

“How would you like to lay?” His eyes wander over your face softly as you question him; head leaning to the side to get a full look at you resting next to him with your messy hair and t-shirt with little holes dotting alone the stretched-out collar. Ghost couldn’t help but realize how pretty you looked right now with your little smile and glowing skin illuminated in the yellow light. It doesn’t take a lot of thought before he gives a very quick and confident answer.

“Facing you.” His dark eyes study you for a response.

One he fears will be hesitation or discomfort. Fuck, maybe even fear. You’d seen him do things even hell would shudder at, yet you always came to him bearing a trusting and happy disposition. Being covered in blood, sand, sweat or mud never deterred you from walking right up to him like some lost little puppy hoping someone would find it cute enough to take home. Genuinely it bothered him. Why do you overlook the danger he presented. How you could be so fucking pleasant and calm in almost every situation you were thrown into. Something he’d been angrily dismissing as nothing more than a passing trend until you really got to know him as well as others had. Yet nothing changed. In fact, you appeared almost excited at the prospect and wiggled yourself into what he assumed was a more comfortable position on your side with one arm propped up under your head.

Ghost shifts himself onto his side with a small grunt, getting into an equally comfortable position that closes a bit more distance between you both. If you had mentioned it, his excuse would’ve fallen somewhere along the lines of you having short arms and that he was only accommodating your size. Nothing could pry the truth that he just liked being close to you out of his mouth. Days in the desert hadn’t nearly touched you. Sure you were a little rough around the edges without time to redo your hair or do any of the other small things… But damn you still looked pretty. With so little space between you, he could smell how sweet you were too. Not that fake shit women always put too much of on. You smelled right. Like a woman ought to. Natural, and… maybe a little on the salty side. It meant you’d been busting your ass in the field, and that thought alone gave Ghost a bit of a shiver as he inhaled deeply.

Face-to-mask with just a little more than a couple inches between you, the closeness felt comforting, reassuring. Ghost at ease, getting to take his time admiring all of the small things he’d never thought to appreciate, while you revel in such a strange yet lucky opportunity to watch him practically melt into the bed all because of your touches and soft words. Perhaps it’s because of all his walls coming crashing down that you’re able to begin trailing your fingertips over his arm. You worked from his wrist to his bicep then over and down onto his ribs, feeling the texture of burns and scars and the small raised edges of tattoos sunk into his skin.

Ghost lets out a low, soft, moan as your hands glide over his stomach. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks directly at you, blinking innocently like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He’s so eager yet nervous for any sort of attention, and while you have no intention of stopping, you’re careful to not move too quickly. His breath increasing under your hand is a good enough indication that he was feeling something, and strongly, at that.

“More,” he breathes out, nearly panting with his one hand fisting at the sheets under him.

He’s starting to shake inside. Tingling on every surface you touch and fighting back the desperate urge to just make an observed amount of noise with just how much he likes this. It’s been so long since anyone had touched him so intimately. The overstimulation was nearly enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. Yet he swallowed thickly, willing himself to act as normally as possible. For fuck’s sake you hadn’t done anything that should reduce him to such a pathetic excuse of a man on the edge of anticipation waiting to see where you’d touch him next. You made it even harder when you looked up at him with a smile and raised eyebrows.

“Can I try something?”

He can’t nod quick enough, watching those eyes of yours light up. He shivers as your attention moves upwards to the hem of his mask, toying with it a little before tracing long lines from the base of his throat all the way up to his jaw. Working to trace out the shapes and planes of his face under the thin material. It makes him quiver and tighten his fist around the sheets in his hand. Without thinking, he moves his other arm to wrap around your waist tightly and pulls you the rest of the way against him with a small growl of lost patience. Ghost wanted you close, but god you were just too sweet to do it on your own. And with your body heat scalding against his bare skin, he gives a pinched sigh, eyes fluttering closed with you still rubbing his face.

“This okay?” He whispers lowly, his arm still wrapped around you and his hand pressed flat against the deep sway of your lower back; thumb rubbing over your belt loop absentmindedly. Hearing your soft sigh pours over his mind like thick honey in tea.

“Of course, it is,” Your hand curls around the edge of his jaw reassuringly. “You can touch me back if you’d like to.” You offer, reaching behind him to trace a line up his spine. Ghost’s eyes open at your invitation, his gaze -heavy- but fixed on you. His body tenses ever so slightly as you ask. Then, he closes them again and a small hidden smile crosses his lips.

“Yeah…” He answers at a mere whisper.

He moves his hand from its resting place and moves it to the swell of your hip, running it over your waist, fingers lazily catching the edge of your shirt and rolling it up enough that his fingertips brush against your bare skin in a soft gesture. You sense his nervousness in the slight shake of his hands, unsure of where to go, but fighting with the desire to touch everything at least once. Like he’s terrified he won’t get another chance but doesn’t want to scare you away from him either. His arm moves upwards, his hand coming to the side of your face; fingers smoothing back a couple of stray hairs and running across your head. Mentally you stutter for a moment, your arm draped over his side and your hand on his back stilling. Enraptured with Ghost’s rough hand touching you carefully. Treating you no differently than a bomb ready to go off at the slightest wrong move. So gently his thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hearing a tender sigh from under his mask.

“That feels good,” You whisper, lips brushing against the edge of his palm.

An answer doesn’t come, but you can see him nod his head. You can almost picture his smile as his fingers continue to run through your hair, twisting the strands around his fingers and pulling slightly before repeating the motion over again. Lacing his hand closer and closer to you with every soft touch. Ghost can’t help himself from tracing down the curve of your back again. Absorbing the comfort of your breath fanning over his chest and his hands getting to truly feel every inch of you he never even thought about touching, let alone actually laying next to you this close and feeling your smooth skin under his calloused palms. Experience in this kind of thing was as foreign to Ghost as the idea of working a nine-to-five at some office building typing on a computer or attending one o’clock meetings for a budget report. While that sounded mind-numbing enough to blast his own brains out…. he still felt like he’d have a better grip on living a life like that more so than he did lying next to you…

So fucking pretty always smiling like that.

He feels you lean even closer, resting your head against his bare chest and sinking deeper into the bed. Allowing him total freedom to do what he wished. If you could purr, he imagined you’d sound no different than a little kitten tucked inside someone’s shirt, kneading its paws into your skin. Ghost did smile widely this time, moving just enough to unbind his other arm out from under himself and curl it around your head to toy with the extremely soft strands right at the nape of your neck while the other rubbed at the dimples he felt in the small of your back.

You moan softly when his strong fingers squeeze at the back of your neck, rubbing in circles just at the back of your head to mimic the same technique you used on him earlier. Ghost was a quick study, but having large enough hands to practically scruff you with only one made it easier. Muffled in his chest, it didn’t come out nearly as deep and unrestrained as you’d actually been, yet you didn’t miss the slight shake of Ghost’s chest as he chuckled darkly. Proud that he’d elicited such a response, and already moving his hands more confidently to try and find somewhere else he could touch to make you repeat the noise.

“Does that feel good?” His voice pours over your ears like the bourbon he drinks, flooding your mind with a hazy and warm feeling.

Nodding your head to answer, his thumb runs lightly over your jaw again, this time squeezing affectionately. The Lieutenant on the other hand is relying far too much on his mask to keep his mounting excitement under control. Biting back an instinct to be rougher and see what other sounds you could make for him. Wrestling against the want to fully remove your shirt to see if you felt this soft everywhere. Suddenly hungry and hardly masking it. When you feel him suck in a harsh breath, you look up to see his eyes resting firmly on yours. A silent question lingers in the inch or two gap between your faces. His chest rises and falls quickly, anticipatory.

Swallowing the fucking childish nervousness clawing at his throat he finally speaks. “Should I?”

“I’d like if you did.” You whisper back, looking between his eyes and the painted teeth of his mask where you’ve pictured his lips being. Hoping. Praying. Fucking begging whatever beings could be in the sky above that you’d understood what he was asking for. That he’d give you so much more than you ever expected or dreamed of.

The Lieutenant’s eyes lock onto your mouth, and you can actually hear the thick swallow and deep breath he takes. A moment of anticipation that he couldn’t help but close his eyes for, bringing his masked face closer and closer. No more than a breath away, he can smell your hair and it makes him freeze. Quickly overwhelmed and unsure of how to move forward. So in the depth of his own mind, the presence of his mask still covering his whole lower face escapes his attention. You’re calm enough to help him, reaching between you and lifting the hem of his mask just enough to uncover his lips; Carefully resting the mask on the wide bridge of his nose.

You see deep scars -old and new- all over his lower face. Two of them cut over his lips in wide slashes that differed in color from the rest of his beautiful skin. It made your heart squeeze with sadness. Seeing the first real proof of just why Ghost was so closed off and afraid of letting anyone in. The first-hand experience left him always marching on a fine line between professional collaboration and a real, deep emotional connection to those he protected and those who wanted more than anything to protect him too.

Care about him.

It’s the one thought that brought you to press your lips to Ghost’s. Firm and sure of yourself but still sweet as sugar against his mouth. It takes him far longer than he thought to respond in any meaningful way. The sensation is so different, saccharine and syrupy. His. breath increases in pace, and you can feel his tongue teasing at your bottom lip in curiosity. It’s anxious yet bold. Even his hands are still shaking, they’re already wandering under the hem of your shirt much further than before. Grazing the bottom edge of your bra just like his tongue messily begged for more.

When you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, Ghost feels his inhibitions falling away. Opening his mouth with a low groan and pushing himself deeper, licking against your tongue greedily and tightening his grasp around you to begin rumbling for the hooks on your bra.

He’s nearly panting when he pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours with the hooks of your bra undone without even remembering when he’d done it. The sensation is sending heatwaves through your stomach, flooding your body with heat that rests on your cheeks.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbles, pulling at your shirt slowly and guiding it up over your head with care not to let it catch on anything.

Your heart thumps furiously as he kisses you, his tongue grazing against your own, softly and sweetly. His teeth tug on your lower lip, and his hands explore your back, feeling the smoothness of your skin. The warmth of his lips feels wonderful, his tongue exploring you as his movements become more frantic.

You feel his hands leave your back and move to your breasts, running lightly against the plush flesh before squeezing softly. Teasing his thumbs over your hardened nipples, giving you a darkened look when a small whimper slips from you. Ghost's eyes flick down, catching the image of your topless body before him and the almost pinched look of pleasure suddenly shocking your body. He smiles at you, his lips parting slightly as he does so feeling a new sense of accomplishment than ever before.

Hurting people felt natural to him after so many years alone and fighting to survive in every moment that came to pass. Rhythm and attention to the enemy's detailed reactions made him a lethal weapon against anyone his talents were directed at. With you in his hands though, the act of fighting was similar yet so very polar opposite. He watched and listened to every pretty little sound you made, but instead of that unending desire for retribution, he was being satiated with the knowledge that he could make you melt with nothing more than his mouth and hands.

Fuck, that thought almost ended Ghost. He couldn’t imagine just how many sounds he could rip out of you if he could use his hands or mouth somewhere else. God, if he ever had the chance to give you his cock, there’d really be no way of going back. He looks you in the eyes for a moment, then back to your lips, before kissing you again, his tongue exploring you as his hands run up and down your body.

He's so fucking eager now, and it shows, his excitement building in every movement of his hips beginning to roll up against yours. He's making you feel so hot and desperately needy for anything that could be given to you, and that's all he wants. Make you feel everything possible… all under his hands. His body, his touch. Only him. It couldn’t be anyone else now that he’d been given a taste of you.

The stone-cold Lieutenant Ghost is ready to give you everything all in the pursuit of making you feel absolutely overwhelmed with pleasure.

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated

[animeficsworld]

Romance

Saitama x Reader

Summary: It's a well-known fact that Saitama doesn't feel anything, but that doesn't mean he can't try. 

---

It was no surprise that your boyfriend was someone who wasn't really fond of romance. Being emotionless didn't really work for his favour either. 

But Saitama decided a long time ago, that he would do anything not to lose you. He tried to be romantic as much as he could. He read a lot into it as well.

So, it was no surprise to you, that when he asked you to stay over at his place, you found the whole apartment lit with candles and flowers. 

Your heart always melted whenever he did something like this. You found it incredibly cute.

"Sai?" you called out when you didn't find him in the living room. His apartment was rather small so he couldn't really hide anywhere.

Suddenly the door to the balcony opened, and there he stood. With his usually yellow shirt on.

"Oh, you are early." he said. He must have been watering his cactus.

"I might have been a tad bit too excited so I got here quickly. But I did get us some sweets from the store." you said placing the plastic bag onto his table. He didn't say anything, his usual blank expression on his face.

But he soon gathered himself as you put all your stuff out of the way and he walked over to you and kissed you. 

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you." you knew that he must have learned that from one of his manga, but you just decided to take the compliment. You kissed him back. "So, what did you plan?" you asked, knowing that there had to be one. Saitama usually had a list of what he wanted and needed to do on dates, but of course, you never told him that you knew about that list. 

"A movie, you got snacks but I have some too."

"Cuddling?"

"All the cuddling." he answered and watched as your smile grew. He loved it when you smiled, that's what made him feel again. 

His futon was a bit small for two people, but he managed to pull you into his body just right, so you could fit.

Saitama had your back against his chest as a horror movie played. Saitama read it somewhere that if your partner is scared, they will cling onto you, and that's exactly what he wanted and why he picked a movie that would surely terrify you.

And so that's how you spent the rest of the evening, cuddled up into his very muscular chest while watching the movie. He occasionally squeezed you closer to himself when he felt that you were scared.

And scared you were.

The movie was absolutely terrifying. 

And once it finally ended, you were very grateful. You looked at the clock and saw that it was actually pretty late, so you decided to go, take a bath and go to sleep.

"Sai, will you join me to the bath?"

"I-I already had a bath, before you arrived."

"Oh." you didn't push it further, seeing his red flustered face was enough. Into the bathroom, you went to enjoy a warm bath. Although the movie was scary, the thought of sleeping in the arms of the Worlds strongest helped a lot with easing your mind. You wondered if he did it on purpose or was he just genuinely interested in the movie since you knew he liked these kinds of films. 

Anyways, you got out of the bath and put your pyjama on. When you got back to the futon, Saitama blew the candles out and was already half asleep. You turned the TV off and went ahead to lay down beside your boyfriend. He pulled you close as you placed your head on his chest.

Falling asleep you felt so lucky because even though Saitama is emotionless, you were very thankful for the things he did and how hard he tried. 

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ First kiss — JJK Men

Synopsis:- first kiss hcs! I mean…we all love ourselves some first timers so <3 based on this request from @myrand0mfand0mbl0g (thank you sweets)

— word count: 2.8k

— A/n: as someone whose personally still never had her first kiss, I am purely writing fiction. So if the wetness of your lips or the softness is exaggerated, bear with me. Unless you wanna help me gain experience ;)

— Tw: Jjk Men (Gojo Satoru; Geto Suguru; Nanami Kento x reader [separately]); pure fluff; established relationship in Gojo’s part; mentions of kissing suguru in Gojo’s part; height and smn smn; not proof read; mentions of Baking Nanami’s part; a little like very little suggestive(?)

Gojo Satoru:

Fireworks. Kisses with Satoru could be defined as nothing less than that, and nothing more. First kiss from your true love causes sparks they say, i wouldn’t be too sure but it was in the way his hand pulls you closer by the waist, in the way his eyes scanned yours—in the way he smiles mid-way through the kiss, to pull away to breathe— only to kiss you again, harder—something about it screams fireworks. In the way Satoru’s hand squeezes yours, oh so gentle in the way he holds you- almost afraid that he might hurt you. You can feel it still, the infinity around him—daunting so beautifully and enveloping you, compassing you and him as one. And don’t get me wrong, he makes sure every kiss of yours is the same, but it was in the way he tucked your hair behind you ear- the chilly wind and the night sky full of firecrackers—in that way that your first kiss did actually feel like fireworks.

“Satoru,” you mused, smile playing on your lips as you stared at the sky, it was empty still, the evening lay young and bare—but not for long. And aided by your boyfriend, you just happened to find yourself at the topmost point of the entire town—to earn yourself the best view of the fireworks.

“Hm?” You hear him hum, your eyes trained themselves on the sky, to catch the first firecracker go off-his trained on your to catch your smile.

“How did you find out about this place?” You inquired, genuine curiosity—“Don’t go worrying about that,” he chuckled, doing nothing more but to fuel your curiosity.

“Hey, c’mon,” you laughed out, face now fully turned towards him, “we don’t keep secrets right?” Of course you didn’t, not when Gojo Satoru was already whipped for you and the relationship was only so old as 5 dates and a month and a half.

“That we don’t,” he grinned, “but do we really want to ruin the moment? Let’s just watch the fireworks, no?” His eyes no more seemed to meet yours, making you chuckle—“Hey, tell me already,” you called out and he laughed.

“Very persistent that you are,” he smiled as his form moved closer to yours, “had I known you were this stubborn I’d never ask you out,” your jaw dropped at his words and you laughed out—“jerk,” you muttered punching his arm, his infinity long forgotten around you.

A sweet silence, an intelligent silence and he sighed, “you want to know?”

You nodded quick, all too quick, he grinned, “Say please,” it was all for passing time you supposed, so long as it was time we’ll spent.

“Please,” you said instantly, not one to mind his annoyance—which sometimes annoyed him because nothing he did seemed to get to you ever, a love hate situation it induced for him.

“I brought someone very special here once, the prettiest black hair and the sexiest body,” he grinned, his words catching your attention all too quick- involuntarily, the list of his exes (not many or barely any) running through your mind, “and the smoothest voice—they brought me here. And we just happened to, now don’t you get mad, share a kiss here.”

You didn’t mind at all, of course not, until the gears in your brain worked and you realised the person was none other than Suguru, your eyes widened and you laughed.

“Am I being told that you’ve had your first kiss with Suguru and not me?” You asked, tone bordering that of mock anger- he laughed, “Didn’t think you’d catch on all so quick,” his grin widened.

“Don’t you change the topic, you home-wrecker,” you called out and pulled him closer, by his collar, he let himself be simply moved.

“Wanna know how we kissed?”

“Was it genuine?” You asked quietly, not one to mind but interested nevertheless- he snorted, “of course not,”

“Mhmm,” A chuckle here and a laugh there— “I mean I wouldn’t blame you, he’s hot,”

“Excuse me?”

Another chuckle here and a laugh there.

“Yeah, wanna know how?” His breath tickled your face, that close he stood—fingers dancing along the waistline of your dress.

You smiled, so persistent, more than you, “maybe,” you mumbled— “Hm?” And these were moments where you hated him. Those pretend “Hm?”s which made you repeat your statement, the warmth in your cheeks spreading.

“Yes, I wanna know.”

And that was all that was need, a hand quick, a pull swifter- the proximity itself fastened your heart beats.

“This close,” he began, “this close we stood,”

“Toru’” you interrupted, “the works are about to begin,”

nervous, were you? Perhaps.

He hummed in response—“you wanna watch?”

This time the hum was yours—and the cheeky grin, his.

Before you could register, even consider the possibility, he’d turned you around once again, this time, his back facing the silent air, your body slightly hoisted—pulling you closer still—just enough for you to open your eyes and be able to see everything behind him.

And just then, he smiled—“can I kiss you?” He let the question hang in the air—knowingness the answer all too well.

But the first show- you wanted to complain—but your lips moved quicker, “yes,” falling off them all too quick.

The kiss was sudden, not expected, never expected this way, with his fingers tucking the stray hair of yours behind your ear, fingers lingering a little too long along your jaw—waiting, waiting for the perfect moment—caught in the moment. Your legs were wrapped around his torso then, his weight supporting yours oh so easily and he grinned, pressing quickly, his lips to yours.

Sudden.

Too quick. Your eyes remained open for a second too long and the second lay long enough for you to watch, as they let go of first firework of the night.

Geto Suguru:

Kool Aid Icicles . Kisses with Suguru have to be Cold—refreshing, sudden and nostalgic. In the way that every time you kissed, he’d make sure that the smoke that usually lingered his breath was minimal—carrying at all times with him a mint. Kisses with Suguru aren’t cute, but a constant—they’re not always deep nor passionate, at least not every time, but they’re necessary—for you and him. But it was something different in the way you first kissed—curiosity, you suppose, is the best of human emotions. It was in the way December was itching into January and in the way an icicle is not what most people would advise you to have—but they wouldn’t advise you to spend your nights all awake with Geto Suguru either. It was in the way you’d grabbed his favourite flavour and he’d grabbed yours, in the way his fingers had pulled your chin closer, only to taste what was his.

“Blue Raspberry and Tropical Punch” the shop owner had muttered, tired—you’d mused, “That’s my favourite,” Suguru grinned as he paid for the icicles—“wait,” you grinned back, “mine too.”

That was all it took to elicit another giggle from the both of you—as you had been for the past evening, laughing and giggling at anything and everything, as two classmates, best friends, do.

“I’ll take that one then,” he began, he was quick to mark down but not quick enough for your fingers had already grabbed his favourite, “Nu uh,” you smirked, “that’s mine tonight.”

You watched him raise a brow, “ok, weirdo,” he muttered as he grabbed your favourite—his was red, yours was blue.

You laughed as you tore the wrapper and licked on his- your icicle.

He did the same, shooting you a glare every once a while as you two walked back to his dormitory, where you would simply crash in for the night—“Have you done the homework?” You asked, hoping to copy his, “I was planning to copy yours,” he confessed with a bashful grin.

You chuckled, “idiot,”

“That would be you,”

You found yourself lightly slapping his arm and he found himself wrapping his arm around your shoulder—“S’getting cold no?” He spoke, letting silence befall his words—“Yet we’re eating icicles,” you added quietly—“wonder why,”

“Why,” Suguru echoed, “Human nature,” he smirked, “to do exactly what we aren’t supposed, curious to see consequences we don’t have to,” his words, on the usual annoyed you often, too hypothetical, too deep, and the case was very much the same this time around—“Wannabe,” you muttered and grinned.

You chuckled as he smacked your head, not saying much—and you let your eyes dart past the many shops—all closed, the street lit up only by the street lamps- “But I get it,” you began, “We shouldn’t be doing this either,”

His smile reached you in your peripheral view—“why?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, “not like we’re doing anything bad,” maybe it was the way he spoke, or maybe it was the way he held you close—held you safely that would’ve made you feel fine even if you were doing something bad.

“No of course not,” you giggled, “two teenagers just shifting through the street at…” you checked your watch, “…1:22 a.m.”

He giggled back—“don’t see no issues, darling,”

And in that moment, you did in fact thank him internally for at least his words warming your face all so quick had some use to it.

You both walked in silence there on, just a little more and you’d have reached his dorm—he’d sleep on the couch as usual—ever the sworn gentleman with you—“I want my icicle back,” you heard him mumble, almost a whine.

“What?” You brows furrowed—“it’s mine,” you whined back.

“No it’s not,” he chuckled, “this,” he poked out his tongue to show how reddened the icicle had gotten it, “is yours,”

You couldn’t help but poke your own tongue out then, “and this is yours?” You asked innocently, not realising the implication, causing him to smirk, “yes I’d like so think so, yes,”

You hummed, “you can have a taste,” you mumbled, looking at him as you both halted, “I can?” He raised a brow, “Yeah,” you nodded.

Silence.

He chuckled, “I do wanna taste it so…” he leaned in, subsequently you began raising your icicle upto his mouth—“No,” he stated, looking directly into yours eyes, “I wanna taste it,” he repeated—and finally, things came crashing down on you.

“Oh,” you muttered, fingers fiddling with the hem of his jacket—the one he let you wear to shield you from the cold—“It’s nothing bad, you know?” He whispered, stepping in close, “It’s nit something you’re supposed to do either so feel free to say no,” he comforted, a tone fully respectful.

“I know,” you nodded, “makes me want to do it all the more,” you smiled nervously, “you’ve turned me into a poetic wannabe like you,” you grinned, “shut up,” he smiled back.

“In the name of curiosity,” you whispered as you got on your tip toes, causing him to chuckle, “yeah? And what are we discovering?” His voice, somehow, softer than yours—“if the red on your tongue and the blue on mine will make a purple or no,” he laughed quietly, his hand on your waist, holding you close- “Directly for the tongue? You’re so dirty,” he grinned and just then, he leaned in.

His hands cupped your face softly, gently, before his fingers roughly tilted your face towards him- the chill of the night had you shivering, but he held you and just then you realised that Suguru’s kisses were colder than kool aid Icicles — but his touch was searing hot and his breathless smile was utterly beautiful.

Nanami Kento:

Freshly baked banana bread. Kisses with Kento were nothing if not warm and a little sweet. It was no secret to anyone that Kento loved bakery items, all the more so, he loved freshly baked goods and cherry on top would be if you baked it. They say first kisses from your true love feels like home and nothing ever felt more like home when you were the one to bake him his mom’s special banana bread. It was sweet in the way he was hesitant, nervous, awkward—larger hands placing you on the counter—pinning you there. It was mayhaps in the way his hands managed to drop the bag of chocolate chips down when you kissed back—or mayhaps the way his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose as he leaned in more so. You weren’t sure to what it was, but kisses with Kento were always sweet and soft- much like the banana bread you baked.

“How much flour are you putting?” His voice was gruff, annoyed, quiet.

You remained silent—you had never baked with measurements and today was not the day that you would change—“you’ve already messed up the sugar proportion, just—”

“—Shut up,” you snapped, “your mother cooked with respect which is why it always tasted good but right now, love is the last thing on my hands,” and his just so happened to lock upon the knife in your hands- enough to quieten him down.

You rolled your eyes, he rolled his- “have you at least greased the pan?”

“I thought you would!”

A sharp inhale, sharper exhale — “What would you like me to order tonight?” Your work colleague asked, piquing your interest—“what?” The hands which were busy mixing the batter now stared at him, “because you know, I’m not eating that,” he replied.

Had you nit been annoyed up till then, be assured that he certainly got your blood boiling now.

But you smiled, ever so sarcastically.

“A little bit of rat poison for you please?” You quirked, a subtle smile lining your face— he raised a brow, “why? Aren’t you as a snake well enough?”

Your jaw dropped.

“Once,” you chuckled, exasperation getting the better of you, “once i snipped to Satoru that you practice kissing on your mirror and you hold it against me for 7 years, pathetic,”

You weren’t so sure, over the slow hum of the oven but maybe he chuckled—“a snake nonetheless,”

“Why’d ya get the snake to bake your mom’s special bread huh?” You edged, teasing him all the more—“the snake just so happens to be a talented snake, so why not?”

And you found yourself giggling, “alright then, mr.rat,” you chuckled at your own joke, “the batter’s done—get me the mould,”

Kento looked at you—despite his rude words and a usually mean demeanour, he grinned and the grin which lay all too close to that of a cute puppy—“here,” he handed you the mould, and you took note of the flour coating his fingers—from the little “flour fight” you had earlier- evidence of which lay the messy kitchen and the flour in both of yours’ hair.

You began pouring the batter in when suddenly—“wanna taste the batter?”

“Huh?” A head tilt he passed, brows furrowed, “sure,”

Now, Nanami expected a lick from a spoon but when he saw you dipping your finger in, his eyes widened all too much—and yet, deny you, he wouldn’t.

You raised your hand, finger coated in your the bread’s batter, urging him to lick it—“although I might’ve fucked your mom’s recipe here and there—you owe me a kiss if it tastes like hers,”

You laughed and he did too, innocent joke—of course your batter tasted nothing like hers, yours wasn’t made with love like hers.

So amidst his chuckle he kicked your finger, shock coating his face right after.

“What?” You asked, concerned—“did I put salt instead?” Your mind was frantic, his eyes more so, “No,” he muttered, confused, “how does it taste just like hers?” He mumbled to himself.

“What?” It was your turn now—“no way,” you chuckled—only to mirror his expression after tasting it.

And behold your surprise for it did in fact taste just like his mom’s infamous banana bread- despite the guesstimated measurements and when all was said and done, the batter placed in to bake—realisation settled in.

A blush crept on your face, and his did too—“the bread…think it’ll be good,” you whispered, hoping he didn’t remember your comment.

And in all honesty, Kento didn’t want to remember it either—but he would damned if he let go of a chance such to kiss you—“I owe you something,” he stated.

Your lips pursed— but not in annoyance, for maybe just maybe, a mutual pining was finally obvious to both of you and not just your friends—“yeah,” you whispered back.

He stepped closer, all too close but nothing you’d stop, “c’mere,” he called out as you found his hands lifting you up and placing you on the counter—“where would you like it?” He asked, a smile inevitable—his grip on the chocolate chip bag, he was in the middle of removing it to make space for you.

“Don’t fucking tease me,”

A smirk and then a kiss, you pulled him in close—his eyes wide when your lips placed themselves upon his—then then shut tight as his fingers drew circles on your back, breaking the kiss only to breathe — you smiled, noticing how low his glasses had slipped and in that moment, he found you sweeter than his mom’s freshly baked banana bread.

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting. Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[rekino2114]

Denji discovering your relationship with makima

This is kind of a sequel to this, like all of the makima posts that I will do

"Is it just me, or does makima seem happier lately"

Aki almost immediately regretted starting a conversation with that question when he heard denji's answer

"I dunno but she's still as hot as always"

"I can't imagine what she would have done to you if she had heard that. What I meant is that she seems... more genuine if that makes sense, like something really good just happened to her. Before, she had this uncanny aura around her, but now she just feels happy."

"I believe I, the great power know the reason why"

"Oh really, why then?"

"I believe makima is in a relationship with someone"

"WHAT?"

After he heard that, denji immediately lunged at power and shook her by the shoulders.

"WITH WHO?"

"I've heard it's with a certain human called y/n l/n"

"Ah yes, I have heard of y/n. Apparently, they joined public safety just a while ago but have managed to climb through the ranks incredibly quickly, even reaching the rank of makima's most trusted subordinate. Some even consider them her right-hand person. I did hear rumors of them being in a relationship, but I never thought they'd be true"

"I'll fucking kill them, I'll slice them in half, no one steals miss makima from me"

Before aki or power could stop him, denji stormed out of the house and went to public safety headquarters, and entered makima's office and found you two......kissing.

"Ah denji, I thought I informed everyone that I was in a very important meeting, may I ask why are you here"

"Sorry, Miss makima i-i just"

"It's fine. I think I know why. Anyway, now that you're here, I should probably introduce you to each other. Y/n,this is denji, a member of Division 4 and the Chainsaw Hybrid. Denji this is y/n, my second in command and...... my lover."

Your heart skipped a bit. That was the first time she had called you her lover in front of another person. Meanwhile, denji could feel his own heart breaking at those words(poor pochita), and he immediately sprinted at you

"So it's true you're the one who stole Miss makima from me"

"I suggest you do not touch them, you might not like what happens if I find a single scratch or bruise on them"

Those intimidating words from makima were enough to make him stop.

"i-i'm sorry miss makima but could I ask why are you in a relationship with them"

"Simple, because I love them. They made me feel happy, and I eventually understood that it was love"

"I-i see sorry if I wasted your time, I'll go now."

Before he could walk out, makima placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait, denji, I want to tell you something. Even if I do not love you, I'm sure other girls will. Even with all of your flaws, you're a good person, which... is a lot more than I can say about the me from a couple months ago. What I'm trying to say is.. if someone managed to love and change me, then you absolutely have a chance"

She spoke with a sweet and caring tone devoid of any manipulation or evil. For some reason, she felt the need to comfort him... you had truly changed her.

Denji, after hearing that, immediately broke into a smile, showing his very sharp teeth

"Thank you so much, Miss makima I feel a lot more confident now"

He walked out of the building, leaving you two alone once again, makima walked near the window and looked at the sunset while thinking:she had helped someone feel happy, she had gained nothing from it and yet it felt so much better than when she manipulated people.

"Are you alright makima, you look... emotional"

Your words made it clear to her, Yes, emotional she was happy now, and she was emotional, and she loved this feeling.

"No, it's alright dear. I was wondering if you would like to have a movie date tonight?"

"Of course there's this new, really good movie everyone is talking about"

She turned to you and smiled brightly

"No, I was actually in the mood for a bad movie today. Is it alright?"

[steventhusiast]

Steve's exhausted after a day at the museum with his daughter. She spent all day running away from him to get to the next exhibit, and he spent all day fondly chasing after her and wishing he'd brought the backpack leash with him. The ride back to Hawkins from the city is about an hour and a half, so he made sure to rush to get on the train first to secure them seats at a booth table. Sam having a place to put her toys down is very important for tantrum-avoiding reasons.

So sue him if he doesn't notice that there's a man sat opposite them when he finally gets to sink down into a seat on the train.

He's leaning down to find Sam's two action figures he let her bring with her, when he hears her start giggling next to him. When he sits back up, he's a little startled to see a man with long, wavy, pretty hair sat opposite them. He's making silly faces at Sam, a book held open in one hand as he puts all his energy into poking his tongue out at the 4-year-old.

In response Sam blows a raspberry at the man, and Steve holds back a laugh. God, the man is charming him without even talking to him. He's cute, and he's unafraid to be silly to make a kid smile?

"Alright, Samshine, I don't think this poor man wants your germs all over him. What do we say?" He prompts.

Sam looks chastised, and goes from giggling at the man to pouting at her dad.

"Sorry." She says to him, but Steve shakes his head gently and pointedly glances to the stranger, "Oh!" She gasps, "Sorry, Mr Stranger."

The stranger just chuckles and shakes his head.

"No worries at all, milady. But please call me Eddie, Mr Stranger is my father."

Steve was not expecting that reply at all, and he can't help but let out an audible laugh. Eddie's brand of charming is a little weird, but Steve likes it. Sam, on the other hand, is frowning at Eddie in confusion.

"Okay, you have to call me Sam though! Wait- Your last name is Stranger?"

She asks, and sounds so excited about the possibility that Steve ruffles her hair.

"Unfortunately not. I was just trying to make your poor dad laugh, he looks very tired. You had him running around all day?"

The question is all it takes for Sam to launch into a play-by-play of her entire day, and Steve feels like he should apologise for her behaviour, but Eddie genuinely looks like he's having a good time talking to her.

"I'm sorry if you were planning on reading, I think Sam's thinking you're her new best friend." Steve chuckles after a bit, partially because he also wants to talk to this pretty stranger and partially because he knows how overwhelming a 4-year-old talking at you can be, but Eddie just redirects his bright smile to Steve.

"No, no. This kid's a better storyteller than any author. But, if I'm gonna talk with her any longer I feel like I should know your name too?"

"Steve. Steve Harrington." Steve introduces, and smiles at the man, whose eyes go a little wider at his name.

"Holy shi-shrimp. Holy shrimp. Harrington?" Eddie squints at him for a few seconds, and then nods and leans back, "Wow, it really is you."

"Sorry, do I know you?" Steve feels a little awkward, mentally running through where he could know Eddie from. He supposes he looks a bit familiar, but not enough for him to comment on it.

"Daddy stop talking to Eddie he's s'posed to play superheroes with me!" Sam interrupts them, and shoves one of her action figures across the table toward Eddie.

"One second, Lady Sam. Your daddy went to high school with me and doesn't even remember! This is blasphemous!" Eddie says before Steve gets the chance to say anything, dramatically clutching at his chest like he's in pain as he goes.

At those words Steve pauses a little. High school?

It's his turn to squint at Eddie for a second, and he suddenly remembers the renowned drug dealer turned super senior. Eddie Something. Steve never really talked to him, mostly because he was repressing his queerness and Eddie was hot and open about his freak status and that scared him. He racks his brain for Eddie's last name. It begins with an M for sure. Munson!

Wait. Drug dealer. Talking to his kid. He better not be doing that anymore. He distantly wonders if there's any product in Eddie's backpack that sits on the seat beside him.

Eddie seems to know the moment Steve's connected the dots because Steve goes from squinting in confusion to squinting in suspicion.

"You don't even need to ask. No, I no longer..." Eddie pauses to look at Sam, "I no longer am an entrepreneur. Or- Well. I am, but I'm a tattoo artist."

"Okay. Good. And before you ask I'm no longer a..." He holds both hands over Sam's ears and only mouths the next part, "douchebag."

Eddie laughs and nods.

"I see that. Can't believe I didn't recognise you with the glasses." Eddie says.

"Daddy." Sam whines, and dramatically shakes her action figure, "I wanna play."

"Alright, alright. Sorry, Eddie, we'll have to catch up at the high school reunion." Steve jokes, and Eddie pulls a face.

"Ugh, as if I'm stepping foot in Hawkins High ever again. You'll have to give me your number if you wanna catch up." Eddie says with a wink.

Steve blushes and looks down, and Eddie's words seem to catch up to him. Steve distantly wonders what the hell Eddie’s doing going back to Hawkins. It doesn’t sound like he still lives there, and Steve hasn’t seen him around.

"Unless, of course, there is a Mrs Harrington. In which case, I am so sorry and will play superheroes with your kid the entire rest of this train ride." He rushes out, looking a little embarrassed.

Sam giggles at the words.

"Daddy's not married, silly!" She laughs a little more after that, finding everything hilarious, "Now can we play?"

Eddie lets out a relieved breath, and glances at Steve again with a little smile, before putting all his attention on Sam and picking up the action figure she wants him to play with.

"Of course, Lady Sam. Only if I get to be the villain."

Steve reaches into his pocket for the tiny notebook he keeps there, and scrawls out his number before he can think too much about it. Robin’s always telling him he needs to put himself out there more. And Eddie already knows about Sam, which is half the battle for Steve when it comes to dating. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that Eddie’s just as attractive and charismatic 8 years out of high school.

Sam only looks a little peeved when he interrupts the intense superhero-villain fight she's having with Eddie to slide his number across the table.

[stealingyourbones]

Not sure if this has been suggested before but what do you think about a DP x DC Cross where the JL discover Amity because the "It's Not Gay if he's Dead" joke escapes containment into mainstream? Also I love your blog! You're awesome.

aaaaa thank you sm hun! I really appreciate that :D I'm glad you enjoy my funky lil blog!

And now, I threw this idea at a fellow who is simply me with prompts but even more unhinged and they wrote a thing. I present to you, This:

------

Escaping containment implies that the content got leaked somehow. 

Maybe after so long with dealing with ghosts on their own, especially with ghosts that can control and use tech the people of Amity Park decide to self isolate. Phantom and Red Huntress are considered the only main heroes allowed in Amity, one out of pride and two out of concern of a ghost possessing an foreign hero. 

There was a fight and the tech isolation software glitched or a satellite picks up something on accident, letting a small leak occur. Nothing major, just a small joke. 

A blurry photo of a white haired teenager with a fancam like edit around him and the words "It's Not Gay if he's Dead." 

Which on its own wouldn't have taken off very much on the internet, but someone pointed out that the teenager was wearing what was very obviously a hero outfit. Leading to people wondering just who exactly this hero is or was. 

So they dig, and it turns out the “one” leak wasn't the only one to happen. 

The internet finds out there's not just one meme. There's hundreds of them. All originating from a single midwestern city and mostly focused around one person, the white haired teenager that is referred to as Phantom in most memes. 

Theres edits of a female musician with bright blue hair with text saying “that moment when a dead girl is your bisexual awakening” and “Its not a crush on a villian if shes not alive.” 

There's even photos of these slime-like creatures. With dozens of different memes referring to them. Varying from calling them green pigeons, to talking about tossing them like a sports ball.  

Theres even a photo of Dash and most of the football team are wearing group shirts that all say “It's Not Gay if he's Dead” with Phantoms logo on it, half as a joke and half because some of them would definitely date Phantom if they could. 

It's not even the Justice League that finds the jokes first, it's the younger generation of heroes. 

(It's how Tim asks Kon for a date. He sends a meme with Danny getting flunged in the worlds most tumbling superhero pose with the below text "It's not gay if he's dead." Tim immediately sends another text "But it is gay if he's an alien, 10pm picnic date?")

The different memes get passed around, none of them taking them that seriously, until it gets to Batman. One of the memes is sent in the bat group chat by one of the Bat kids to ask Jason about getting group Batburger later. “If your hero’s dead its not gay, it’s just hero worship, even if you want to meet him behind the Nasty Burger.” 

It's the hyper specific wording that gets Batman to look into it. He only finds the memes, nothing else. No town called Amity Park, no hero called Phantom, no trace outside of a reference to a defunct and wiped completely clean government branch and references to a nonexist law. 

This leads him to contact the Justice League, including the JL Dark, for a meeting. 

Surprisingly quite a few members recognize the teen outside of the memes. Flash, Captain Marvel, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Aquaman, and some of the JLD. The Flash refuses to say anything due to timeline continuum dangers. Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and Martian Manhunter mention someone like him appearing in ancient texts, but nothing beyond that. The JLD that know are physically and contractually unable to say much beyond Phantom being a hero and very important. 

It’s Captain Marvel that genuinely knows anything about him. “That's Danny, he's pretty cool. He's even helped me out a few times!”

The rest of the JL are surprised, Marvel gets more questions and answers some of them. He doesn't share the knowledge that he's helped Billy at handling the whole secret child hero thing, and that he's welcome in Amity. Just enough information to make the League stop looking into Phantom, Ember, Cujo, all of Amity. 

It works, mostly. 

Batman has never been one to let sleeping dogs lie…

-From Bones’ GhostWriter, S.

[hypnoneghoul]

when you listen to the rhrn album can you please give your thoughts about like the mixing? Live albums typically don’t always have the greatest mixing but this one like confuses me

alright anon, I'm using your ask to make my official HYP TALKS RHRN SOUNDTRACK post

tag list: @devilsandstarlight @jazz-bazz @skele-bunny @azureseacloud @lilhoechlinsbae @delusionalbitchinthehouse @fallen-iii-ghost

A disclaimer, any negative-leaning take is not hate or "I would've done a better job" (because I would not), it's only my opinion that I was asked for multiple times due to what I do here on tumblr

Okay so I can divide the tracks in two categories when it comes to mixing and all that stuff:

1. Awesome mixing – more depth, better instrumental and vocal balance – Spillways – Cirice – Call Me Little Sunshine – Twenties – Marry On A Cross – Kiss The Go-Goat – Dance Macabre – Square Hammer

2. Less fortunate mixing – some flatness and chunkiness, less balance – Kaisarion – Rats – Faith – Absolution – Watcher In The Sky – Rats – Miasma – Respite On The Spitalfields

I’m not putting If You Have Ghosts into any of these categories because it’s a different world entirely. It’s actually just brilliant, but it’s not as hard to find balance with so few and such instruments as with the other songs on the album. I think Copia is a little too sharp for this vibe and I'm pretty sure they tried to help with reverb. It was a nice touch, but I think it could’ve been more smoothed out. But also I kinda hear Terzo in the second half of it, not Copia, SORRY. The vocal ghoulette could’ve been put either fully on the middle or all stretched all around to surround Copia and the instrumental and fill the space, if that makes sense

In general the mixing is strange in some places, even in the better made songs, it’s just like they lose the plot sometimes. It's possible (and very likely) that it was prepared with vinyls or CDs in mind, not headphones, but that doesn't explain why sometimes it's better and sometimes worse. Some general stuff about mixing I picked out:

1. Dew isn't really on the right, he's more to the middle than Aeon who's totally to the left. Dew could be louder actually in some places, Aeon could be stretched more to the middle 2. Bass has a great definition, we can finally hear how nice some fillers are and how good Rain actually is 3. The girls got some very much deserved highlights, but they did Swiss dirty. I’m outraged for my bbg, but not only because I love him. It would be a genuinely better technical decision if he was louder and/or placed somewhere else. The entire thing is very off balance. It's lead guitar and strong female vocals on the right, and rhythm and basically nothing (Swiss) on the left. It just doesn't make any sense!!!

Now some stuff about specific songs:

1. Rats – So dirty, the mixing failed a little here, the audience just sounds like noise instead of actual good background – DEW DID A PINCH HARMONIC (I manifested it) – Cirrus!!! It’s hard to hear her most of the time and she rocks here – Aeon and Dew had a very good harmony, they work so good together wtf (sorry Aether but they win here)

2. Faith – Aurora and Cumulus completely slay – I adore Dewdrop’s little addition to the 1st solo – But he missed a note in the 2nd solo heh

3. Spillways – FINALLY Swiss in Spillways – It’s the best mixed song in general and I’m not only saying that because of Swiss (who I love), all the instruments and voices are balanced so much better and so much more fluid – There’s less tone definition on bass though

4. Cirice – Dew does some fancy lil harmonic tricks in Cirice, I LIKE – It’s also very well balanced when it comes to instrument, SWISS IS AUDIBLE – Something went WRONG with Cirrus’ synth here, like omfg they did my girl dirty

5. Absolution – I talked about Absolution extensively here

6. Watcher In The Sky – Love the synth on it, why not do that setup for Cirice pls – But also Swiss is always the loudest at the beginning, why not here!? – It’s on the worse list, but it’s not horrible, the backing synths fill it nicely so it’s not as chunky as Rats for example – I think someone forgor Dew is lead, not Aeon, but at least we can appreciate the bug’s skill some more like that – Mounty slamming those bitches at the end, go baby!

7. Twenties – Very glad they highlighted the drums and the bass so much in this one, it’s what Twenties is FOR – Both Dew and Aeon’s palm muting game is so yummy here – Oh, Swiss how I love you – But what are they doing with the solo mixing, why is the bitch moving at the beginning? It’s like someone was late to press some buttons (It might have been on purpose but trying to do some fancy effects doesn’t always work)

8. Miasma – Miasma lands somewhere between the worse and better mixing category but that might be the lack of vocals which takes away some of the needed balance, but it is rather chunky – I don’t like the synths shoved totally into my left ear but that’s just me, not an actual flaw – But then what are they doing at c. 3 minutes??? Again, more fancy doesn’t always mean better and Miasma is fancy and full enough as it is – I think the mixing in Miasma changes from worse to better along the way because the ending is so much better and smoother, around when the sax comes in so they might’ve adjusted some things just to fit it – OMG RAINY GO FANCY AT THE END (the tiniest solo ever <3)

9. Mary On A Cross – Cumulus oh my fuckckk – The vocals before the chorus is such a good touch, nice ascend into the change in melody, love it – Same with Aurora’s solo part the next time, it’s so good that they put her on the middle for that, it’s perfect – The girls do slay the end but Swiss could balance it nicely if only he were just a tiny bit loudeeeeer – And again what are wed doing with these weirdly sustained layered synths??? That’s just slightly unnecessary

10. Respite On The Spitalfields – Swiss should be louder here, too – Respite is in the slightly worse category because this one sounds very flat to me for most part, it’s like only the drums and bass give any depth (or rather force some depth into it) – Once again Aeon’s palm muting is top tier – Girls slaying as usual – I’m not sure why the strings are just forcefully shoved behind Dew but okay… – The mixing here is a crime!!! It’s so flat and this is a song that deserves to be all around and fully immerse you. I’m actually sad about that one – And where are the solo vocal parts???

11. Kiss The Go-Goat – Now why is KTGG deeper and more melodic than Respite??? We’ll never know ig, but yeah, it’s on the better category – Did Nihil fucking mix this album or what??? – Cirrus’ solo in KTGG should be as loud as Dew’s, period

12. Dance Macabre – Dance Macabre is on the better category too, you can even hear Swiss – Glorious bass here

13. Square Hammer – Now Squammer, very good mixing for the finish but I still think that the girls should be more to the middle and wider, especially in backing vocal heavy tracks like this one – YES Dew bestie go ham on it at the end, slay, make your tech angry – OHHHH AEON’S THING UGHGFHNGHGHHG (he was probably wobbling his pickup switch with one of them turned off so it was basically sound on–off–on–off)

Also not really from the technical side but they cut out some strong tracks and it's honestly a big shame :(

Some gear stuff nobody will hear but me (/hj): 1. Rain definitely still has steel strings ‘cause COME ON, the TONE!!! 2. Aeon’s palm muting skills rock 3. The difference between Aeon’s ceramic humbuckers on the Fantomen and Dewdrop’s Hot Rail single coils is on the Strat so prominent AHHH 4. Aeon missed on the CMLS solo a little but Dew covered him up hjfgsdh 5. Slightly funny addition, but I love that Aurora’s voice and Dewdrop’s guitar can be mistaken for one another sometimes because of the tone and pitch lmfao

And that's it heh I'll gladly elaborate on some aspects or answer any questions that might come up so you know, my askbox and dms are open :3

[soaps-mohawk]

I imagine a less consequential secret 'Mega would have is that she saw a small cat in the bushes on base and snuck out to retrieve it because it looked like it needed help.

She's careful to shower every time she handles it so the guys don't smell it on her. She picks out pouches of tuna and canned chicken at the shop when John takes her on their regular grocery trip, and when he pulls a face she claims it's for sandwiches or easy protein. She was still working on an excuse to get actual cat food, the chicken and tuna would have to do in the meantime.

Simon is the one who figures it out after a week. He goes into her room searching for a shirt he's missing that wasn't in Johnny's hamper, and the second he opens the bathroom door to see if it's in there a cat comes wandering out. He's half-tempted to throw it outside where it must've come from, but when he turns, their Omega is in the doorway of the bedroom with a deer-in-headlights expression. She knows she's in trouble as he makes her grab the cat and herds her towards the rec room, pounding his fist against the others' doors and grumbling loudly about a 'meeting.'

"We would've pulled strings and gotten you an emotional support animal had you asked. Maybe a proper dog," John sighs from his spot against the wall, arms crossed as he stares at the raggedy cat in 'Mega's lap. She liked the thing, but she wasn't about to use her own hairbrush on it. It would have to remain frumpy-looking until she could find a proper cat brush.

"Are you sure you want that one? It's kind of... ugly," Johnny pipes up, earning a snort of laughter from Simon. Their poor Omega gets genuinely offended at that, clutching the cat to her chest.

"She is *not*! You guys all look kinda ugly when you come back from weeks-long operations, you don't get to judge her," she mumbles right back (though she doesn't mean it), petting the cat as if it could understand that it had just been called ugly. Kyle watches the way she ducks her head down towards its face so it can sniff her, and he sighs.

"It's not going anywhere. Guess we should figure out where the nearest vet and pet store are."

-🐰

I love this so much 🥺 omg I can't it's so cute!!!!

She so would so something like that. Just finds some poor animal and hides it in her room until Simon inevitably finds it lol. They would be significantly less mad about that 😂

They all grow to love the cat eventually. John and Simon take the longest but then turn into the "dads that didn't want the pet" and then are cuddling it on the couch 😂

They can't say no to their omega what can I say 🤷‍♀️