#wait actually lets do all four because that way they can all do different things

[moa-broke-me]

more transmasc nico fics please

specifically period comfort ones

[angelskills]

Can you do Choso reacting to the reader casually referring to him as their husband for the first time?

a/n: hello! thank you sm for requesting :) chosos reaction would be soo cute! I'm not sure if you wanted fluff or smut, so i added both! sorry for posting so late, also NOT PROOF READ!

"He's my husband"...

warnings: riding, teasing, p in v, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, doesn't pull out(birth control), whimpering, penetration, idk what else.

characters: choso, your friends

intro: your friend, Yumi, offers to go on a double date to catch up on your lives.

You and Choso have been engaged for about 3 months now. You guys dated for about 4-5 years until Choso finally proposed to you. You both agreed on moving in together after the proposal. You must admit that agreeing to move in together was the BEST decision ever. You always woke up to him making breakfast for both of you guys, you never went to sleep mad at him, and it was just... perfect.

Choso knew your friends. You always gossiped about them (not shit-talking, just about the drama they have) to him and he listened to every detail VERY well. He knew every single thing about your friends.

Since you guys haven't hung out in a long time, one of your friends, Yumi, wanted to go on a double date. She was all the way in California for about 4 months, meaning you both had a lot of catching up to do.

After trying to convince him, Choso finally agreed to go, you know he can't say no to you.

You guys were finally at the restaurant at a table for four, talking to Choso as you waited for Yumi and her date.

"Y/N!!" Yumi yelled out, running towards you.

You smiled, standing up from your seat to give her a hug. "New man every day, huh?" You whispered in her ears, teasing her. Yumi slightly pinched your arm before sitting down. There's nothing wrong with Yumi, just the fact you see her with different men every week, guess every man she meets is always a red flag.

"I hear you guys are engaged," Yumi speaks, looking at you and Choso.

"Mhm," You say wrapping your arm around Choso's, "He's my husband now."

Choso turned red. So red, that man was BLUSHING. His face went rosy-cheek. This was the first time you actually called him husband. Even though you guys have been dating and are now engaged, he has never heard you call him your husband. This was new to him.

While you, Yumi, and her date were talking and gossiping, all Choso could think about is the fact you called him your husband. Husband. Husband. 'My husband'. Those words rang in his ears. He couldn't get it off of his mind.

After eating, you and Yumi finally decided to go home. It was like, what, 12am now?

On the ride home, Choso didn't seem to talk as much. His face was red, red to the point you thought he had a fever.

"Bae? You okay?" You worry, placing your hand on his head to see his temperature.

Choso gulped, he was so embarrassed to tell you this.

"That's why you weren't talking the whole time?" You laugh, making fun of Choso, "Because I called you my husband?" You were lying on the sofa. Choso sat beside you, letting you place your legs on his lap. This might've been weird for you guys to do before, but you both did so many weird things together, that this didn't even mean anything.

Choso always gets flustered easily, and it wasn't making it any easier for him now that you were making fun of him.

"You never call me husband, it's a... it's a new thing." He mumbles, leaning on the sofa.

"Can you get me a glass of water, husband?" You teased, doing a silly face.

You calling him husband again, wasn't helping him, at ALL.

"Stop..." He cleared his throat, his eyebrows furrowing.

Hearing you say husband again and again turned him on so much. Especially with your voice, the word husband. He could feel the bulge in his pants. He palmed it, trying to hide his boner from you.

Sitting up, you were confused, why wasn't he saying anything? Until you noticed his hand on his crotch, you knew what was happening.

You smirked as you crawled on his lap, poking his hand for him to move it.

Choso gulped as you placed yourself right against the bulge in his pants. Choso's size was big. Big for someone like him. You nearly blacked out when you both first had sex. That dick was WORLD-ending.

He appears innocent, yes, the man who buys you flowers whenever possible, the man who chases and follows you around, the man who writes poems for you, is the same man who has you a moaning mess, dumb on his cock every time.

Tears were rolling down your face. Him and his fucking stamina. Choso was fucking you through your fourth orgasm. You were a fucked out mess on his lap. His hands were on your waist, lifting you up and then letting you drop on his cock. The pleasure was overwhelming for you, you were just babbling and moaning, not being able to speak a word. His length kisses your cervix with each one of his deep thrusts, his hands placed on your ass, and his fingers digging in your flesh. His thrusts made you see stars every time, had your toes curling, and made your eyes roll back.

"Hngh.. f-fuck." He whimpered, as he jerked his head back, his fingers digging in your waist, leaving marks.

You felt another orgasm build up inside of you, your hands were placed on Choso's shoulders as you were riding him. He's even noisier than you are at this point. Loud whimpers, groans, and expressions from your warm and wet pussy clenching around him so tightly. Your nails were leaving little red marks on his shoulder, which is like a reward to him because he knows that you're making him feel good.

You were so close to your orgasm. You managed to whimper out a whiny "Choso...!", your pussy clenching around him even tighter.

"Haah, holy s-shit..." His voice cracked as he was interrupted by whimpers, feeling you tighten around him.

You felt like you were in heaven, your orgasms around his cock made a little ring around it.

He sped up his pace, his thrusts now bruising your cervix, his grip on your waist tightening. Your eyes rolled back, his fast and deep thrusts blurring your vision.

"F-fuck... wanna s-see you milk my cock ple-ase baby, o-oh my god..!" He whimpered, breathing heavily.

That sweet innocent man was fucking you as if he hated you. He hit your G-spot again and again, finally making you cream around his cock.

His eyes almost rolled back after he felt you milk his length and tighten around him.

All it took was a few more deep thrusts before he finally reached his orgasm. He made sure to have his cock deep inside of you so he can fill you to the brim, thick ropes of cum spurting out of his cock as he painted your walls white.

After cooling down for a few seconds, he finally lifted you off of his cock. Giving you a little kiss before carrying you to the bathtub to help you get cleaned up.

[livwritesstuff]

Steve’s oldest daughter Moe is unusually quiet on the drive home from her college apartment in New York City.

She was supposed to be doing this drive with her younger sister Robbie (who had bullied Steve and Eddie into letting her bring a car with her to college), but then Robbie and her friends had actually managed to squirrel away enough money for an impromptu trip to D.C. for their spring break, and Moe had still wanted to visit home even without a ride.

Steve had made a whole show acting all put out over having to make the four hour drive between her school in NYC and their house in the Massachusetts suburbs (twice, he’ll add — he’s been on the road for six hours so far with a couple more to go) but, truthfully, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to spend time with his kids, especially since the older two have firmly graduated to young-adult status, and he easily could have put her on a train.

“So what’s goin’ on with you, Moe?” he finally asks when the quiet stretches a little to far.

Moe shrugs, and then she says, “I was wondering something.”

“Go for it.”

“You and Dad, like…you were older when you started dating, right?”

Steve pauses for a moment, allowing himself to consider what might qualify as older to his twenty-one-year-old daughter. 

“I guess it depends on what you mean by older,” he settles on telling her.

“I mean, you weren’t in high school anymore, even though you knew each other in high school.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “I was halfway through grad school, so twenty-six, I think, and you know Dad’s not even a year older than me.”

Moe nods in return, and  then she asks, “And you were friends before anything else happened? Like, for a while?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies, “Dad, and Aunt Nancy, and Aunt Robin were my best friends. Still are, obviously, just…different over time.”

“But, like, how–” Moe stops, and Steve can tell without needing to look away from the road to check the way her eyebrows are furrowed, the way they’re crinkled in the middle just like they always are on the rare occasions Moe can’t find the words she needs. She lets out a short exhale, “How did you know that it changed?” Before Steve can answer, Moe shakes her head, “How did you know that what you were feeling wasn’t, like, friend things anymore? Or, like, that it was more than just friend things.”

“Uh,” Steve pauses, running a hand through his hair, “Honestly, Nancy kind of told me.”

Moe’s head turns in his direction.

“Aunt Nancy told you?” she asks, “Pop…that’s so lame.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happened.”

“Why?”

Steve thinks about it for a second. It’s funny, he doesn’t actually put too much thought into that time in his life – the seven years that had lapsed between becoming friends with Eddie in the aftermath of everything with the Upside Down and when they’d finally gotten together. That was nearly thirty years ago, after all, and Steve hasn’t ever really been the type to dwell on the past. He takes a moment to dwell on it now and remembers how long it had taken him to notice the dull ache behind his ribs and the anxious somersault his stomach had done every time Eddie so much as looked his way.

“I mean – yeah, you’re right. It’s…it’s not easy when you’re close with someone for a long time and then the way you feel about them changes, because, you know, it’s not – I mean, it’s not like it changes overnight. It’s gradual, so…yeah, it’s not easy.”

“Yeah,” she quietly agrees.

“Nance, just – well, you know Nance. She just clocked it before I did, and I guess she didn’t have the patience to wait it out. Once I knew though, it was, like, super fucking obvious. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known before.”

Moe’s laugh is nervous in a way Steve isn’t sure he’s ever heard before, and if there’s a friend of Moe’s she might be feeling differently for, he thinks he might have an idea which one. Moe is a hell of a lot smarter than him though, and this conversation is telling enough that she won’t need things spelled out for her in the way he had with Eddie thirty years ago.

“It was hard,” he continues, because he has a feeling Moe might need to hear more even if she isn’t asking for anything specific, “I – I mean, I actually liked dating when I was your age, believe it or not. I thought it was fun, or whatever, and it wasn’t really a thing that made me nervous, you know? With your dad, though…shit, I was terrified, because it’s a different kind of risk than just shooting your shot with someone you run into and hit it off with.”

Moe nods.

“I think the reason it’s so freaky is because falling for someone you’re friends with is never just a crush. I knew there was something big there. I know you guys hate when Dad and I are all sappy, but he was never just some guy I was dating. He was it for me from the very beginning.”

Moe mumbles something under her breath that Steve doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I don’t hate it,” she says, her voice still pretty low, and Steve knows that must have been difficult for her to admit so he doesn’t comment on it (though he will be telling Eddie as soon as he possibly can – obviously).

“Well, I’m just saying,” he replies, “I wasn’t feeling that way for nothing, and things turned out pretty good in the end. If someone was in a similar situation, I’d tell them…” he pauses, and then laughs as he says, “I’d tell them to not wait seven years to get a good thing started.”

“Alright,” she replies, “I’ll…yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

[lovifie]

Chapter 1: Bite 🕸️

Ghost x Spiderwoman!Reader

2667 words

You were the new member of the 141, Laswell's own recommendation. But even Price, who would trust Laswell with his life, had second thoughts about you joining. 

You were a scrawny, half-blind, way too young girl. The last person Price would have picked for the team. 

“Let them show you, John. You need her to hack and collect the intel. She can't take a grown man down, but she's a decent shot.”

So he let you join, most of the time you felt like a child; constantly being told to walk close between two of them or it would be the complete opposite and they would tell you to stay hidden taking advantage of your tiny size. 

Ghost was the one that liked you the least, he already worried about the whole team making it back home safe and they were able to fend for themselves. You? You were like a puppy, walking between their feet almost making them fall all the time, and still, you looked fucking delighted to be in the way. Ghost hated how happy you seemed to be all the time, hated how unaware of the danger you seemed to be, and he hated that he was unable to ignore how much he cared you got back safe.

But there was a thing he hated more than anything. 

Superheroes.

The 141 was one of the few task forces that still existed, in many places arguing that they were no longer needed since now there were superheroes. And the hatred the population already had for the military only got worse. 

Plus, even though Simon never joined the military to get famous, it still rubbed him the wrong way when they would go on a mission, fight for days, lose friends, and only for a random superhero to arrive when everything was almost finished and take all the glory. 

He hated them all their life, and he always wondered why people liked them so much when he was home any of them came to save him, his mom or his brother. He always hoped one would save him, but they never did. 

So both Simon and Ghost hated superheroes.

All of them. 

So when they got the intel that a lab was working on creating new superheroes, he didn't need any more convincing and started getting ready.

The five of you walked along the rows and rows of animals captive inside the lab. Luminescent fish, shielded beetles, poisonous snakes, all the kinds. Ready to be experimented with, just for selfish humans wanting to be heroes. 

“Keep walking, kid” Price mumbled behind you, making you peel your eyes away from the different fish bowls and terrariums. “Alright. Kid, you stay in this room and look around if you can find any document or proof. The four of us will go down the hall, there are some lights on, see if we can find anyone.”

You nod, already used to being left alone, and walk around the office, pushing your glasses up when they slide down your nose as you look down at the desks. Lab records of failed attempts, codified names of patients, data of the genome of the different animals they used, by the look of all of them they have been trying for years. Poor animals.

It is at that point, while you are reading the information of the different animals, that you feel a sharp pain in your lower back, right over your ass check. 

“Fuck!” You mumble, the sound reaching the team's ears through the intercom and making them still in their moves. 

You turn around, expecting to see somebody stabbing you. But you are still alone and when you look at the point the pain came from, you only see a tiny spider. 

“Fucking perfect.” You groan to yourself as you slap the spider off your body, but once again it reaches the rest of the team.

“Kid, what the fuck are you doing?” Price asks, the team still immobile waiting for your explanation. 

“Nothing, sir. Keep going.” You say, not wanting to jeopardise the mission. Part of you gets offended by how they automatically keep going without another care, but the actual logical part of you starts to panic because you just got bitten by a spider from a lab that tries and makes superhumans. 

You frantically try to find some kind of information about said spider in the files on top of the desk, almost crying when you find it and read: “Not poisonous.” 

Shots and screams can be heard from the end of the hall and you know you don't have time to read the whole file. So you snatched it, shoving it under your vest, just in time for the first people to come running out. 

“Kid! Don't engage in combat! I repeat, don't engage!” Price's voice barks in your ear.

“Roger that!” You quickly answer, hiding under the desk and holding your breath as people run around you. One of them stopped right beside you and frantically shoved around the papers just like you were doing a moment ago. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit! It's gone! The spider is gone! The file too! FUCK!” The person next to you screams, only adding to your ongoing anxiety about being bitten. 

“Leave it!” A second voice shouts getting closer. “Leave everything and run! They are activating the system! This shit is about to get blown to bits! Run!” 

The second they are far enough to grab the radio to talk to the team. “Captain! They are blowing up the lab! We need to get out!” 

“Take as much info as you can and run, kid! The door is locked, we are going out the other way, we can see the exit! Meet us at pick up!” The Captain quickly shouted back.

“What?!” You ask back. “You were leaving me here?!” 

You can make out what he says, but you stand up to look around. You need to take something with you, even if it is only to hit them with it. 

There is a laptop on top of the desk, so you grab it along with as many files as you can bring. Sprinting to the door, the workers of the lab already out of the place, way more lucky than you. The halls inside are an absolute maze, and the only thing you have to guide you out are the blood marks of those who got out before you. 

Just when you see the outside, the helo in the distance hovering just half a meter off the floor, you hear the beep beep beeeep of a countdown going off. Only managing to put a foot outside of the door, before the blast wave sends you flying forward, your glasses flying away from you. Clutching the laptop as if it were your own life, especially taking into consideration that your “team” would be more worried about it. 

Your ears ring when you open your eyes again, a buzzing sound in the background coming from the helicopter. Gaz on the open door calling your name, enough to get back on your feet and keep running; the man picks you up from your vest and takes you inside before closing the door. 

You leave the laptop on the floor, files scattering around as well as you sit on the floor, back resting against the wall, hugging your legs as you try to get your breath back. 

Gaz is looking at you worried, Soap is beside you tidying up the files, Ghost flying the helicopter and Price is behind Gaz, staring at you. 

You can't help it back look back at him with anger in your eyes, he was ready to leave you behind if you didn't get out on your own and he didn't even tell you. Suddenly feeling like your biggest ally today was the terrorist who told his colleague. 

The ringing in your eyes slowly fades away, the sound of the helicopter sounding more and more clear. 

“You solid, kid?” Price's voice sounds over the rotating blades. 

“Yeah… not thanks to you, though.” You say, mumbling the last part, pissed about it. Price chooses to ignore it, for the sake of the peace. Only giving you a look of “We'll talk later.”

By the time you reach the base, you are burning up. Every time you close your eyes being harder to open them back up, your whole body feels on fire and you're feeling pain in places you didn't even know you could. 

You should go to the infirmary, but then they would see the spider bite and it would make sense that they would want to leave you behind, or at least that's the reasoning behind your decision to instead go to your room and sleep it off. 

Or at least you would if the pain wasn't keeping you awake, you turn around in bed trying to find a comfy position failing and failing again and again. Still, at some point, it must have knocked you out because the knocking on the door wakes you up. 

The sun is out and the fever seems to be gone, so you stand up, groaning because of the residual pain and walk up to the door, opening it. Coming face to face with Ghost. 

“Morning, soldier” He greets, no kind of emotion in his voice and you can't see his face. “You skipped dinner last night and breakfast this morning, we don't need you any skinnier.”

Just then you take notice of the paper bag on his hand and the water bottle on the other. You try to use the hand that is still holding the doorknob, only to realize that it seems to be stuck to it. You furrow your eyebrow, which doesn't go unnoticed by Ghost; and you point to the table with your other hand. 

“Can you leave it there, please?” You ask, still trying to get your other hand free as you open the door more so he can come in. 

He enters the room, dropping the food on the table and turning to you with crossed arms. “Are you alright?” He asks, still confused with the way you seem to not be able to let go of the door, pulling back with all your body weight.

“Peachy.” You grunt back, your hand finally detaching from the knob and almost sending you to the floor as the door bust open hitting the wall. “A weird cramp, that's all.”

He nods slowly, walking away from the table and closer to the door. “You sure you are fine? You flew quite some meters yesterday… you lost your glasses.” He points to your face

Until he mentions it you haven’t realise because you can see perfectly fine; even better than before when you were wearing them. You furrow your brow, rubbing your eyes as if to get the bad eyesight back by pure force and you look at him, still seeing better than ever. 

“Yeah… they flew yesterday, I'll get new ones.” You say, still confused by it. He nods, telling you about letting Price know so he can give you the money back and starts to walk out of the door, turning back and rubbing his face already dreading what he is about to do. “Oh, and, hey… good job, yesterday.” 

As he talks, he raises his fist for you to bump it. Which only adds to the confusion, he really must feel bad for leaving you behind yesterday. Still, the situation is so awkward it is causing you physical pain, so you bump his fist to get over with it and close the door with your feet when he leaves. 

Once alone in your room, you rub your face with frustration only for your fingertips to get stuck on your forehead. You stay paralyzed for a second, not understanding what is going on and trying to peel your hands away from your face. 

Your skin stings when you try to pull making you whence, understanding that you can't just pull. So you close your eyes, take a deep breath and quickly pull your hands as if you could catch it by surprise. You curse when it obviously doesn't work walking back, knocking the water bottle off the table, surprising yourself when your hands catch the bottle before it even rolls off the table.

Something tells you to look at your phone, and just when you do a message pops up. You focus all your senses on letting go of the bottle and it falls off your hands like normal, making you doubt if you really got stuck before. You look at your phone, using your knuckle to unlock it and tapping in the password to read Ghost's message.

💀: Debriefing in 20’

💀: Shower!

“Rude.” You think, knowing damn well that you stink for coming straight from the mission and spending the night sweating. You type back with your knuckle:

🕷️: rofer thar

“Shit… close enough” You lock the phone and take off your clothes to shower. Once on your underwear, you turn to look into the mirror the spider bite on your hip; only to see that your body is not the same as yesterday's. 

It looks like you gained at least 10 kilos of pure muscle, your biceps popping out, shoulders rounded out by muscle, thicker thighs that you know will not fit on your pants anymore, rounder ass and overall the athletic build of some kind of olympic athlete. 

The only mark on your skin being the bite, even some of your freckles are gone from your skin. The bite, on the other hand, looks terrible. Two little dark purple dots are visible, the surrounding red and angry and little lighting-like red lines go out of it, going up your back and around your hip. 

You take a deep breath and jump into the shower, using the back of your hands to do so, which only makes it trickier. Once washed, you look into your closet taking out the only clothes you believe will fit you. A pair of leggings that sit just a bit too tight and an oversized sweatshirt to cover as much as possible. 

You put on your shoes and walk to the captain's office; to your disgrace, the door is closed and you knock. You hear, as if it was right behind you, a “C’mon in”. But you don't want to risk it getting stuck, so you play dumb and knock again. Ghost opens the door and comes face to face with you again, much closer than in your room and you see his eyebrow furrow 

“Have you gone on a growth sprout in the last 20 minutes?” He asks, confusion clear in his tone. “And are you wearing makeup?”

You realize that the freckles on your face must have banished too, plus the fact that the bags under your eyes seemed to be gone as well last time you checked. 

“No. Must be the shoes.” You answer, walking under his arm inside the room feeling his eyes travel down your body. You sit down next to Gaz, looking at Price as Ghost closes the door and sits down, still looking at you. 

“First thing first.” The captain says clearing his throat. “Great job yesterday, you can work on the laptop whenever you want, kid. And also, good job for the heads-up about the bomb.” 

“You didn't know?” You ask, confused by his words.

He shakes his head. “We were wondering why everyone was running out, we tried to go back to you and the gates were blocked, we were suspicious of it but you confirmed it.”

You nod your head slowly, taking it in.“All set, then, right?” He asks looking at the four others. “If you are still mad you can say it, I don't want my team keeping their thoughts in only for them to explode in the middle of the mission. Is there anything you want to say, kid?”

[6okuto]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeyFC7mc/ this but with keiji 🫣

(link :3) Stop. i literally have a multi-chara plan in a doc for this rn. STOPP MY KEIJI :((

a little suggestive, gn!reader

keiji didn't have a bad day, and when he's expected to join four different meetings in the next couple of weeks, alongside editing longer chapters than usual in time for this week's publication, not having a bad day is all he can really ask for.

though, maybe there's one thing, one privilege he'll always ask for at the end of the day to make it a little better.

"keiji!"

your voice rings clear as you jog to meet him at the entrance, slippers loud against the wooden floor. he hangs up his jacket just in time for you to grab his hands with a grin— "c'mere, i need you for a minute."

his lips form a half-smile, even as he furrows his brows while you pull him into the living room. "no 'hello'? no 'how was your day?'"

you turn to look over your shoulder. "hi, baby, how was your day?"

"it was okay, could've been better. thanks for asking. how was yours?"

"mm, could've been better, too. but i'm gonna make your day right now, sit down."

and he does, of course; he lets his bag fall off his shoulder and land on the rug, untucks his shirt and pushes up his glasses that have fallen down the slope of his nose. all the while, you take a seat beside him, close enough that your thighs touch, and balance your phone on the coffee table against the books that keiji thrifted a week ago.

he makes sure he isn't staring at you when you finally turn the camera on.

"wanna record a video with me?"

"people usually ask that before setting up the camera," he points out, "but, yeah, okay. do i have to do anything?"

"no, well, yes, but it isn't hard or anything. i'll explain when i hit record."

and before he can ask if this is another prank trend, you've started recording with a smile on your face.

"hi, guys! so, i saw this trend going around, and i wanted to try it out."

keiji narrows his eyes.

"basically, i have my husband here, say hi, keiji."

"hello- wait—"

"and he's going to list off his favourite colognes, and i'm gonna rank them!" you turn to face him, feigning innocence you know you don't hold. "go ahead, babe."

it's obvious what's going on, what this video is really supposed to be. he knows, and yet he can't stop from looping that word in his head again—

husband.

husband?

his eyes flicker down to your ring finger, then back up to your eyes.

keiji thinks he's stopped breathing.

he has stopped, actually—he's doing it manually, telling his brain to let out the carbon dioxide in his lungs for oxygen.

in,

husband-

out,

husband-

in-

would you like him as your husband?

out-

it's a push and pull, and when he thinks he can manage to say something, a "seriously?" or "well, the one i bought recently has a vanilla note that i've been enjoying," you make eye contact with him through the screen. again—

"c'mon, husband."

his head drops to your shoulder, and he pouts at the immediate laughter that follows.

"what's wrong, keiji?"

arms wrap around you, a hand finding its way to rest on your hip. "stop."

"stop what?"

"i hate you."

"you hate me? guys, my husband hates me, can you believe that?"

"oh my god."

keiji burrows his face into the crook of your neck, and you yelp as he nips at your skin— "keiji!"

your voice makes him pull you closer, hide a little longer, because despite everything, he knows he has a stupid, lovesick grin on his face, and that's something he wants only you to see.

so it's only after you reach to stop the video (with no help from your boyfriend that continues to cling onto you) that keiji finally looks at you, his cheeks flushed pink as he smiles.

then his fingers climb up to your waist, his skin warm against yours under your shirt, and it's your turn to be shocked this time,

"what are you—"

heat travels up your neck as his eyes look down at your lips, and he asks, "can i try to make your day better too?"

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Omae: Complexity of Self-Expression and Intimacy with the Japanese “You”

(Update: I have written a follow-up to this post wherein I exhaustively examine Katsuki's "you" pronoun usage, including every time he uses omae. Please be sure to read both posts! :D)

The anime adaption of chapter 322 is rapidly approaching, so I wanna talk about something really interesting: as far as I can tell, Izuku is the only person Katsuki has ever used the pronoun omae (おまえ) towards in-canon. Furthermore, he has only used omae towards Izuku on three occasions.

The first time is after Deku vs. Kacchan 2 in chapter 120.

The second time is right after his apology in chapter 322. (Katsuki actually uses omae four times in a row in this scene.)

(We'll get to the third time later, just you wait.)

Why does Katsuki address Izuku differently in these scenes? To answer this, we’re gonna commit some language nerdery.

First, let’s be real about the fact that Japanese pronouns can be complicated. There are a ton of them. You learn the common uses—like you could say that, broadly, omae tends to be used by guys for their friends and romantic partners. But the reality is that in a high-context language like Japanese, pronouns can come across wildly differently depending on who uses it, to whom, with what tone, and in what context.

It is difficult to generalize real-life usage, so to be clear, I am talking about MHA as a piece of media. I could try to tell you that omae is rude but also friendly but also condescending but also comedic but also confrontational but also affectionate—and so on, but that wouldn’t help you understand what Katsuki’s omae to Izuku means and why it feels significant.

The thing is, Izuku and Katsuki can each say omae and mean completely different things, because their normal way of speaking tells us how to interpret their words.

When Izuku speaks, he is polite and considerate. He uses the boyish first-person pronoun boku (僕). In Japanese, avoiding second-person pronouns is the polite thing to do; you use the person’s surname and an appropriate suffix instead, and this is the tactic Izuku uses to address others. When he does say “you,” it is usually the familiar kimi (君) towards Katsuki.

We see Izuku use omae in only a few circumstances: he uses it towards himself during inner monologues when he is trying to figure out what to do or compel himself to act, and he uses it when he faces All For One.

Both of these involve what I think of as “tough talk”—Izuku talks tough to himself to push past his fears and be a hero. With AFO, he is talking to a villain, someone he has to defeat. From someone like Izuku who speaks with such politeness and humility, omae reads as aggressive and confrontational.

Katsuki, on the other hand, is always aggressive and confrontational. He uses the masculine, somewhat boastful first-person pronoun ore (俺) and the second-person pronoun temee (てめえ) towards just about everybody. Temee is an extremely rude, combative word; Japanese descriptions usually point out that it reads like fightin’ words—it’s what you’d call an opponent, someone you are confronting, challenging, or belittling. As mentioned, you’re supposed to avoid “you” words to be polite, so the fact that Katsuki whips out temee constantly and makes up insulting nicknames instead of using anybody’s real name is just like, damn, dude!

Unlike Izuku, Katsuki sounds like he is challenging everyone all the time. This means that, coming from him, omae actually seems gentler.

After Deku vs. Kacchan 2, he opens his sentence with omae, and Izuku looks startled by this.

They just had a huge, emotional fistfight, and Katsuki… isn’t addressing him as an opponent, like he always has before. For once, he is addressing Izuku not as his enemy, but his equal.

This scene is the first time Katsuki properly grapples with the truth of their mutual weaknesses and comes to an understanding about it. It leaves him frustrated and unsure, but he walks away seeing himself and Izuku as being on the same side.

Because he takes All Might's words to heart: they are two halves of what makes a hero. They need to learn from each other and push each other to truly reach their best—as rivals, not enemies.

In chapter 322, Katsuki talks Izuku through how he felt about him all these years. He goes over all the things he's had to face to see how wrong he was, to see his own weakness and Izuku's strength. The whole time, he uses the "you" word he always has: temee.

But when it comes time to tell Izuku his true feelings, he calls Izuku by his given name, apologizes, and then right away he says this:

This is a direct call-back to the core question that Katsuki posed to Izuku during Deku vs. Kacchan 2: "Is my way of admiring All Might wrong?"

The second half to that question has always been, implicitly, "Does that mean yours is right?"

Here, Katsuki acknowledges Izuku fully as All Might's successor and affirms that Izuku's path is not wrong, using omae to tell him so. And then he uses it three more times to convince Izuku to come back with them and fight together, "because saving people is how we win."

To me, omae in this scene comes across with such softness. He's speaking with more humility than we've ever seen, both in what he's conveying and his word choice. (There is a whole other conversation to be had about Katsuki's word choice for "I'm sorry," but that is for a different time.)

This omae is not just a sign that he sees Izuku as his equal, it's expressing care for him. Katsuki sacrificed his life for Izuku, telling him, "Stop trying to win this on your own." He is trying so hard to make Izuku understand: Come back, I was wrong. Come back, I care about you.

Which brings us to the third time Katsuki uses omae: chapter 362.

That's right, the infamous "Can I still catch up to you?" / "Can I still reach you?" line uses omae.

Here's the thing that's unique about this omae: it's in Katsuki's head. This is internal monologue; he isn't talking out loud to Izuku, he isn't trying to convey something to him face-to-face, he is just thinking about Izuku.

The word choice isn't for anyone else's benefit or any external purpose: this is just how Katsuki sees him.

I can't overstate how soft, vulnerable, and sincere this moment is for Katsuki. And what gets me about him thinking of Izuku as omae is, it makes me wonder, "How long has he thought of Izuku this way?"

When did Izuku stop being temee in his head?

Changing how you address someone is a big deal in Japanese. Whether it's a name or suffix change (Deku -> Izuku) or a pronoun change (temee -> omae), it represents a significant shift in the emotional dynamics of a relationship.

It crops up a lot in media as a dramatic moment of intimacy, sometimes even being a part of love confessions. This heightened drama is exactly what we see with Katsuki's apology when he calls him Izuku.

Katsuki addresses only Izuku with his given name and omae, and in the whole run of the series, he only uses omae in a few select instances. I would argue that this is really important, subtle character writing.

Looking at the scenes, at least to me, each omae reads as progressively more honest and intimate. Each time Katsuki uses it, he is reaching for Izuku. Each time, it means more.

[gothamite-rambler]

My period is on and I've always wanted to write a story about that, but Winx Club wasn't something that felt the best for this outlet. Batfamily does work though because they're humans lol.

We go through out periods in different ways. The are the batgirls and batwoman are expys of that and this is how the male members of their family handle it. This is for all my girlie pops that have to deal with this curse. Let's dive in!

Dick Grayson: Hey Barb, you sent me this weird irate text, did I do something wrong?

Barbara Gordon, angry: Yes, remember that triple chocolate cake I had leftover? You better buy me a new one!

Barbara rolls over the man’s foot on purpose.

Dick: Ow, you said I could have it.

Barbara: Lies! Get me a new one or I’m ignoring you for the rest of the day and that’s including comms tonight!

Dick: Okay, I’ll do that after icing my foot. Freaking jerk.

Barbara rolls away grumbling under her breath.

Tim Drake, having silently watched the arguing: Have the girls been acting… on edge lately?

Dick: I hadn't noticed until my foot was ran over. What have you seen?

Tim: Stephanie has been eerily quiet and distant today. Which is not like her. Bruce asked her if she wanted to patrol a different part of Gotham and she just growled at him.

Dick: Hm... that is odd.

Stephanie Brown enters the kitchen, wearing an oversized shirt and jogger pants. She grunts a greeting to the two men. She takes a bag of carrots and a bar of chocolate out of the fridge.

Stephanie: I’m watching cat videos, don’t bother me. Oh, by the by, tell Bruce I will do the other part of town today.

Tim: Got it, bestie.

Stephanie grunts and leaves.

Tim: She hasn’t snapped at me too much.

Dick: Hm… wait… hold on… this isn’t the time is it?

Tim: Time for what?

Dick: We may be in the clear if Cass doesn’t have it.

Tim (confused): Have what?

Dick: You poor summer child.

Meanwhile Jason hears a knock at his door. He answers and sees Cassandra Cain standing there, frazzled.

Cass: Hi Jason.

Jason Todd: Hey Cass, everything okay, you look stressed?

Cass (bashfully): Do I? Yeah, um, my… Aunt Flo is visiting and I… I need to go to the store to buy supplies... I do not want to go in alone and you’re the only one I trust.

Jason: You don’t have an Aunt Flo and why would you need supplies to meet her?

Cass: Oh… oh dear, you don't get it. Um… my crimson tide… has arrived?

Jason: Crimson what?

Cass (pissed off): My period is on! It’s my time of the month! I need to buy tampons or pads before I bleed any-

Jason (covers her mouth): All right, got it... the message is in my head. Okay sure, I’ll get my keys.

Cass: Wait, you’re not… this isn’t strange to you?

Jason: I’m friends with Artemis. I’m used to this. Let’s get some supplies.

Cass claps eagerly.

…

Dick calling Bruce: Bruce are the girls on their periods?

Tim: Oh that's what it is!

Dick: Jesus Christ, Tim.

Bruce: Hm... that’s why Stephanie snapped at me and that’s why Barbara cussed me out… I’m a little too used that. Then yes they are. Cass probably is too. Women can sync up sometimes.

Tim: How does he… Bruce how do you know this?

Bruce: Selina is very informative… and Harley is as well. So you learn a thing or two. Go easy on them and they won’t bite your head off. You didn’t do anything to piss them off have you?

Dick, ice pack on his foot: Nope.

Tim: I have not so I’m doing good.

Dick: I will try not to.

Bruce: Okay, well like I said don’t do anything else stupid, Dick.

Kate: Yeah, you’re just going to ignore me? No mention of the four way sync up?

With that Bruce ends the call. He sighs and looks at his cousin Kate aka Batwoman.

Bruce: And then there's you.

Bruce: I’m ignoring a lot currently. I am a master at many things, women syncing menstrual cycles is not one of them.

Kate, agreeing: Trust me, women don’t get it either.

Bruce: Let’s get you your period stuff at least.

Kate: Could you not call it that?

Bruce: Could you actually be prepared next time?

Kate: Ooh, catty? Maybe you’re on your month as well.

Bruce (chuckles dryly): You’re so funny let me tell ya.

Kate: I cope with humor. Get out the car, Cuzzo. Oh you’re also buying me food today.

Bruce: Of course, I am.

[beforetimes]

if there's one thing that can be said about peter maximoff, it's that he's always got his ear to the ground when it comes to gossiping. it's like, his thing by now. if anyone wanted to hide their secrets from him they'd be fresh out of luck because despite how much he darts around and lets himself trail off sentences in the middle of them to zip off and do something else because he got tired of slowing himself down in the middle of it, he is surprisingly good at being quiet when he needs to and being at the right place at the right time. he has a very good record when it comes to this stuff, so he knows it's not bullshit when he's figured out that his dad—which, like, wow, his dad?—is in the dating scene. he knows it. what's more of a surprise is that he's gotten all strung up with charles xavier, of all people.

which, like, peter doesn't hate the guy. he doesn't! he was just under the impression that ten years ago—wow, ten years really fly when you really think about it, that day feels like forever ago and yesterday at the same time—that charles and erik hated each other. so he guesses he missed the memo where they kissed and made up after punches were thrown in the pentagon's elevator by a drenched, half-sober man who looked like he would laser erik to death with his eyes the way scott tries to do to peter about four times a week without even taking off his glasses in case he'd accidentally make it stick. though he couldn't, because, like. peter is very fast. duh.

so. the evidence behind his claims goes as follows (of course he collected evidence, peter says to ororo, affronted, when she asks if he even had proof. what was he, an ameteur?):

1. erik keeps taking lunch breaks.

it's not like he didn't before but he was definitely less likely to. when they were rebuilding the x-mansion after it blew up and he was their heaviest lifter, it would be rare to peel him away from all the construction. erik was actually weirdly good at building, which peter didn't really expect for some reason because he was always under the impression all the guy did was like. terrorize people. or kill them. or twist spoons into pretzels just because he could. but no, nowadays he's been taking more lunch breaks than ever and it's a very pointed difference, even though they've already finished construction a few months ago and erik didn't really have a reason to stay. unless the reason to stay was so he could be with charles! (scott stares at him with that unimpressed, laser-eyes look again so peter flips him off and continues past the sputtering).

2. he's also like, weirdly nice now?

which isn't to say that peter didn't think terrorists couldn't be nice. which sounds bad but erik might be the one exception. anyway, when peter saved him about a decade ago he remembered the guy being kind of an asshole when he met up with charles for the first time and yes he knows that it puts a damper on his dating theory, jean, but he's not done yet so wait a second. anyway, he was less of an asshole when he came back to help fix the mansion after trying to kill the whole world so peter guessed he kind of swings on a pendulum between good and evil and whatever they get on that day is like the worlds most important and demented coin flip. that's besides the point. so when he was back here to help fix things up he stayed out of everyone's way and he wouldn't do much to bother anyone because in peter's opinion erik didn't want to scare the little kids who knew of his reputation even if they didn't know his face. but, like, now he's been here a while it's like a complete 180. peter caught him teaching a seven year old how to tie his shoes the other day. a thirteen year old shortstack was rocking back and forth on her heels while erik got her a book from one of the higher shelves of the mansions newly refurbished library (who knew that once you saved the world there would be at least one or two places willing to donate books on top of charles' infinite wealth?). it was like stepping into the twilight zone. but it was real. like, peter saw the hint of a real smile on erik's face one time when he saw the man looking over the grassy field of the school. it freaked him out a bit.

3. charles knows how erik takes his coffee

this is admittedly one of his weaker arguments from the lead-in, peter concedes when he gets blank stares from storm, jean, scott, and kurt. like, even kurt! he didn't think that was a look he could pull from that kid. anyway, peter says that it's pretty damn obvious that erik has a whole thing when it comes to charles being in his head. he's heard from someone who heard from a friend who eavesdropped on a teacher who overheard charles and raven after a faculty meeting that the helmet erik wore all the damn time when he was evil was to keep charles from getting into his head. which explains a lot. anyway erik has a complex about charles getting in his head. but he doesn't wear the helmet now and peter heard charles one morning when he was getting ready to start the day off by eating at least two and a half boxes of poptarts. he heard the man say something like coffee? and he heard erik reply with a hum and charles went how dyou want it and erik said don't you know already? and peter had peered in then and seen erik gesture to his head. and he wasn't defensive about it at all and charles had this really weird look on his face that peter spend a few seconds examining in hyperspeed before getting away from the whole thing because the vibes were so weird. but yeah. erik let charles into his head just for some coffee after spending like two decades trying to keep charles out of his head. which has to mean something (and peter knows he's hooked them now because even scott is leaning in like he's interested and that kid would pretend he had a ticklish throat and needed a water bottle more than anyone else in the immediate vicinity if peter was on fire in front of him).

4. all the chess boards

like, they're all over the place. it's excessive. there's a different game set up in the library, on a table in the garden, on charles' desk in his office, on erik's desk in his office and his bedroom. and no one touches them because no one likes fucking chess except for cute little ten year old jenny because her grandfather taught her before she accidentally turned his house into clouds and seventeen year old thomas who's a prick because he thinks he's more distinguished than anyone ever because he came all the way over from europe or whatever the fuck and peter can't see either of them sitting down to play one game, let alone multiple. and he knows chess is charles and erik's thing because he saw the board in erik's room one time—(you were in his room? ororo asks with a very deep look and peter nods and goes yeah we've been bonding lately but it's kind of one sided because it's more like me showing up and him tolerating me until i leave but like it's progress!)—and peter asked before erik could get a chance to politely kick him out and erik actually paused and told him that chess was a shared hobby of theirs from a few years back and get this, peter says conspiratorially, leaning forward as the rest follow suit. he smiled. like a full on real smile with teeth. and peter was so taken aback he was like that's sweet man and then left before he could be kicked out. and now he knows that the only people who play chess in this mansion are dickhead european thomas and sweet little jenny and charles and erik, all the games all over the place have to be charles and erik's which means they spend a lot more time together than he thought before. and they plan to spend it together because a lot of these games are half finished, like they leave and come back every few days depending on how much free time either of them have. (and now everyone looks thoroughly hooked because the evidence peter brings is good because peter is a hell of a gossip, dammit. he won't have people questioning his skills when it comes to this. he was made to be at old little women's tea parties where they talk about their evil husbands doing war crimes. that's what he guesses goes on there, anyway, considering his first gossip session with his mom went that way)

5. charles is happier now

and jean frowns at this one right off the bat but no one really says anything because the way peter said it was soft and kind of less jokey than the rest of his tirade. because it was something he wasn't really expecting? because charles wasn't sad per se, he was always happy in front of the kids and he didn't try to drag them down with his own moods and ever since the guy got sober he's looked a hell of a lot more put together than when he showed up on peter's doorstep, tired and hungover and just plain heartbroken. but even in that small time frame between defeating apocalypse and the mansion being rebuilt, he was just... sort of happy. happy he lived, maybe. happy the world made it and his mansion was being rebuilt so he could home all these poor kids without anywhere to turn to that understood them. but wow, the stark difference between a charles that was kind of okay and a charles that was happy was like night and day. he was just so much brighter now that it took peter aback sometimes. he hummed under his breath whenever peter walked by him in the halls at a human speed and those old withered plants in his office started to stand taller, as if someone finally started watering them. and hank stopped staring at charles the way he did when peter met them a decade ago—waiting for something to give. so, yeah, charles is definitely happier now when no one even knew he was unhappy at all. and it all started when erik started taking lunch breaks.

and jean and scott and ororo and kurt are looking at him less like he's pulling their legs and more like he's made a point that makes them a little sad which wasn't the goal but he gets it. charles is like, jean's dad in a way, and the rest really look up to him despite only being here just shy of a year, so to hear this guy that they always saw as this strong bastion of optimism and goodwill was just sort of sad all the time right under their noses was probably depressing the hell out of the four of them. but it was the truth. and peter knows it was because he can practically see them recalling how the professor was before he got there and before he made up with erik.

so yeah. peter is right. erik and charles are probably dating and now four more people know that charles is happier than he was before and erik is too. and privately, peter thinks maybe if erik is happy to find family in charles, he'd be happy to find family in peter, too. but that's something for another day. he's just suddenly aware of the fact that he's so glad these guys who were so bent out of shape and angry and irritated and heartbroken and assholeish ten years ago are looking at each other like the sun took up custody of both their smiles or whatever.

anyway i'll see you guys later, peter tells them, and races off before they can say anything. he's already halfway across the school and in his room playing pac-man before any of them can blink.

[universe-on-her-shoulders]

Prompt: Martha Jones spots The Fourteenth Doctor around London doing a mundane thing like food shopping. Thank you :)

At first, Martha wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognise him; she’d know that hair and that side profile anywhere, even if he was now clad in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt instead of the long coat she’d been so used to. He was holding a jar of jam, reading the ingredients with bright interest, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to be in Tesco Express at ten o’clock on a Thursday night shopping for preserves; the basket beside him contained further mundanities like bread and milk, and she was so baffled by all of this that she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t him. It couldn’t possibly be him. He was a Time Lord, for god’s sake; he didn’t do dull things like buy pints of semi-skimmed milk or reduced Kingsmill white loaves.

But then he turned away from the shelf, sticking the jar in his basket, and the look on his face took her breath away. For several seconds she surveyed him as he continued to be unaware of her presence, and she tried to put her finger on what had changed. It was the eyes, she thought; there had been so many ghosts behind them when she’d first known him, and now he looked almost… well, serene. Calm. There were no spectres weighing heavily on his shoulders; there was no lingering pain in the easy, contented expression on his face as he scooped up his basket from his feet – still clad in Converse, because some things could never change – and then finally caught sight of her.

“Oh,” he said, the syllable hanging in the air between them for a moment, and she couldn’t read it; was he pleased to see her? Angry? Sad? Guilty? Was he about to cut and run? Then he beamed from ear to ear, really sincerely beamed, and held out his arms to her for – no, that couldn’t be right. He wanted a hug? Since when had he been a hugger? “Martha Jones!”

“Doctor,” she said reservedly, looking him up and down; he was older than he’d been since she last saw him, but all of the tension and impatient anxiety that he’d held within him seemed to have dissipated in the interceding years. Questions crowded her mind; questions about time and space and clothes and the air of contentment and – “Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?”

“Oh,” he said again, with dawning comprehension. “We’re out of bread.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“Oh,” he repeated for a third time, then ran a hand through his hair before chancing a glance at the checkouts, and for one awful moment she thought he might be about to bolt. “It’s sort of a long story, actually. Why don’t we pay and find a pub, or something? Unless you’ve got somewhere to be… is Mickey expecting you?”

“He can wait,” she said with amusement, irrationally touched that he’d remembered. “Yeah, alright. Let’s pay.”

“Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?” he enquired, flipping the question back on her with some of the old cheekiness that she was used to. “That’s the real question.”

“Staying with mum for a few weeks while we have the kitchen redone,” she told him as they headed towards the self-checkouts; she started scanning her items while he did the same at an adjacent terminal, and she half expected him to sonic it, or in some way cheat it – space cubes, or god knows what else – but instead he took out an honest-to-god wallet and tapped a perfectly normal credit card on the reader. Her surprise must have shown, because he shot her a sidelong grin as he bundled up his groceries in a canvas tote bag and hefted it onto his shoulder as she swiped her Clubcard and did the same.

“Bit different to the old days, isn’t it?” he said ruefully, and she laughed.

“Yeah, never had you down as a wallet sort of man.”

“It was a present. I lost my last four credit cards.”

“That sounds more like you.”

[xoxoladyaz]

It Hits Different This Time, Part 2

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie x Steve Harrington

TW: Mentions of alcohol, drug abuse

QUICK AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so sorry that the last entry was so angst heavy, I promise this one provides some comfort! Eddie needed to take a big step here and he really, really does. Also, much love to everyone who commented, I've tagged you at the bottom of the post - let me know if anyone else would like to be notified of the next entry!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

It was another five days before Steve heard from Eddie. Another five torturous days of radio silence, only this time, there wasn’t anything online. No new articles were popping up saying he’d been spotted somewhere, no new TikToks of him meeting fans on the street. The rest of the band was MIA too; Steve had thought about sending Jeff a text to check-in but ultimately decided to wait another couple days. Robin had been texting with Chrissy, after all, and if something bad had gone down, she would know.

When Eddie did finally call, it wasn’t from a number that Steve recognized.

“I’m getting a call from Malibu.”

“Holy shit!” Robin sat up on the other end of the couch and shot him a look. “Okay, just breathe dingus, okay? It’s going to be okay, I’ll be here the whole time.” She squeezed his ankle comfortingly. “You can do this.”

Steve accepted the call with shaky hands and brought his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey Steve.”

He shut his eyes and swallowed, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “Eddie.”

He heard Eddie let out a watery laugh across the line. “Do you, uh, have a minute?”

“Mmmm hmmm,” Steve hummed. He physically couldn’t get an actual word out. 

This was it. Eddie was leaving, he’d cheated, it was over – 

“I’m in rehab.”

Steve’s eyes shot open. “You’re what?”

Robin started rocking back and forth. “Turn it up!” She hissed, and Steve obliged, turning up his volume so she could just barely hear what was being said. (Was this a private conversation? Yes. Did Eddie know he’d probably immediately tell Robin everything? Also yes. 

Was this news big enough to warrant having Robin eavesdrop?

Absolutely yes.)

“Yeah, I’m, uh, at the Promises Treatment Center in Malibu,” Eddie continued. “We got back about five days ago and when I saw your note, I – 

“Look, Steve,” Eddie continued, and his voice was choked up, like he himself couldn’t speak, “I fucked up. I’ve fucked everything up. You are – you said in that note that you didn’t want me to give up on my dreams, and you’re right, making it big and getting famous for my music was my dream for literal years. Because I kept thinking “once I get a record out there,” “once I go on tour,” “once I win a Grammy,” “once I get a million dollars,” then I’d finally be happy. 

“But it turns out the only thing being famous has done is make me pretty fucking miserable,” Eddie let out a harsh laugh. “But I was so goddamn convinced that this was it, you know, that I’d accomplished my dreams so I must be happy that I started taking whatever I could get my fucking hands on to make me feel that way. The thing is drugs and the alcohol and the parties never made it fucking last. It just made every other second that I was in the public eye that much worse.

“But I’d still made it, you know? I felt like I didn’t deserve to feel this fucking miserable. And everyone back home was so fucking proud and I didn’t want to let them down - ” Eddie paused for a few moments to clear his throat before continuing. “I didn’t want to let you down. Because Eddie “The Freak” Munson didn’t deserve you, but maybe Eddie “The Rock Star” could.”

Steve can feel his own throat closing up and he can barely see Robin’s face, his eyes are watering that bad. “Baby,” he sobbed. “I wish you’d told me.”

“Me too,” Eddie sniffled across the line. “I didn’t though, I just kept self-medicating and ignoring it, because that’s always worked,” he huffed sarcastically. “But then - ” Eddie cut off again, and Steve can hear that he’s trying so hard to hold back his own sobs, “then I came home last week and realized that I’d missed our goddamn anniversary because I was too fucking high and that you were gone and I just – I called Jeff and I told him to get me on a plane out here because you – you, Steve Harrington, you are the best thing in my goddamn life. And the only dream I want to chase now is the one where we get married and adopt some kids and grow old together.”

“Eddie,” Steve sobbed out again, and he heard Eddie start to cry too, and then suddenly they were crying together, even from hundreds of miles away.

“So I’m gonna be here for the next six weeks,” Eddie finally continued, his voice still full of tears. “I’m, uh, meeting with a therapist for a few hours every day and working through my shit. I wanna be a guy who deserves good things, baby. I wanna be a guy who deserves you.”

“What – what about the band?” Steve sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. A handful of Kleenex appeared in front of him. Robin must have gotten up to grab them at some point. He shot her a thankful nod and patted at his eyes; Robin nodded back and did the same, her face flushed that bright shade of red that accompanied her own tears.

“Murray wrote a provision into our contract where if one of us checks into rehab, then the band is instantly put on a two-year, non-negotiable hiatus.”

“But – what about your momentum, the label kept talking about it?”

“The label can go fuck themselves” Eddie practically growled over the phone. “Who do you think hosted the party where I first got my hands on the hardcore stuff anyways?”

“Babe - ”

“Murray said he was going to look into some sort of contract termination so we can sign somewhere else. And even if we didn’t have that thing written into our contract, we probably would have gone on hiatus anyways, or worse. That – the last leg was rough. Gareth was just as fucked up as I was and Jeff was fucking pissed. He kept having to pull Gareth out of orgies and shit while babysitting Phil and I too.”

“Did,” Steve swallowed harshly, “did - ”

“No, baby, never,” Eddie declared quickly. “Even when I couldn’t fucking see straight, you were the only one I wanted to be with. I honestly don’t even know who we were partying with at the end there, the label sent them for some PR shit, I don’t know. It’s just another reason why we want out.”

“Oh,” Steve murmured, “okay. Good. Or, well, not good. You know.”

“Yeah, baby, I do,” Eddie replied softly. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, just listening to each other breathe. “I, uh,” Eddie started up again quietly, “I’m wearing the ring.”

“Yeah?” Steve found himself smiling despite the fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice was just as choked up as before. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Eddie - ”

“Look, I know, I know I hurt you so, so badly and I’m never going to fucking forgive myself for what I did, but I – you’re everything I want, baby. If I had to give up Corroded Coffin tomorrow for you, I would do it in a heartbeat. And I – I know I can’t expect for you to just, like, forgive me after the shit I pulled, but – will you be there, when I get out? Can I – I want to come home to you,” Eddie finished, and Steve could hear that he was crying again.

Steve looked over at Robin, who was wiping more tears out of her own eyes. They looked at each other for a few moments.

It might be crazy, but I think I want to say yes.

I don't blame you. I mean, this is one hell of an apology, especially from Mr. “I’ll Never Need to Go to Rehab Ever.”

Yeah. And I love him.

And you love him.

“I’ll be there,” Steve murmured reassuringly, and Eddie burst into a new wave of muffled sobs on the other end of the phone. “Just do what you need to do and come home when you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting for home.”

“At home?” Eddie’s voice broke on a whimper.

“At home. I’ll even clean the bathrooms and everything,” Steve joked, and Eddie let out a loud laugh despite the quiet sobs Steve could still hear. 

“Really? You’ll be there?”

“Yeah, Eddie. I’ll be there. We can get through this.”

“Together.”

“Together. Because I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.”

“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie let out an incredulous laugh again, “I love you so fucking much, baby. I’m going to marry the fuck out of you someday.”

“Save the sweet talk for when you get home, okay?” Steve could feel his heart settling in his chest, and whatever tears he’d had left to cry were all gone now. There was just the twinge of missing Eddie, but that would go away soon enough. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Eds.”

“Thanks, baby.” Eddie’s answer was soft now. “So I, uh, get a couple hours to call people every day from one of the site’s phones. Can I keep calling you?”

“Please,” Steve heard Eddie exhale in relief. “Every day sounds perfect.”

“Good, good. I’ll have to, uh, use some of my time to talk to Wayne, but the rest of it is yours, baby. And Gareth, Jeff threw him into a different center too. His check-in was much less voluntary though.”

“Shit,” Steve winced. “Is there anything Robin or I can do to help?”

“Take Jeff and Chrissy out to a nice dinner and use the Amex,” Eddie snorted, causing Steve to laugh.

“Consider it done.”

“Good." Steve heard the sound of another voice behind Eddie. Eddie replied something Steve couldn't understand, but it was in the affirmative. "Doc says my time is up for today. My, uh, talk with Wayne took up a lot of time,” Eddie returned, and his voice trembled as he spoke. “But I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll see you in six weeks.”

“Yes you will.” Steve shut his eyes and imagined Eddie was standing right in front of him. Eddie with his riotous curls and holey graphic tees and tight jeans. Eddie with his rings on his fingers, with Steve’s ring on his finger. Eddie, standing across from him and smiling at him with that twinkle in his eye that had first caught Steve’s attention all those years ago. 

“I love you, Eds.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Tags List: @gregre369 @starman-jpg @skoomy-doompy @thequeenrainacorn @sleepyboosstuff @strawberrykore @paintsplatteredandimperfect @amoris-no-smut-allowed @steve-the-hairrington @iknewyouweremuggle @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sunfloweringstories @loverkasp @hyperfixationgoddess @steddie-as-they-go @zerokrox-blog @messrs-weasley @thelittleclare @lovelyscot

[withahappyrefrain]

I wish you would write a fic where Jake is flirting with a plus size girl who doesn’t think he’s really attracted to her but still goes home with him (a bit self destructive she knows) but when she has to physically pull him from between her thighs because he’s about to pass out from the lack of breathing/cumming in his pants she realizes that “oh shit he does like me”

Oh I feel this so hard and this got away from me enjoy!

She thinks when Jake comes up to her that he wants to know about her friends, because why else would he come up and talk to her?

And when Jake asks her about herself, she still thinks that's his goal. So she's guarded, her answers are short and to the point. Just waiting for him to bring up one of the girls she came with, waiting for those four words that always come when someone like him talks to someone like her.

"Is your friend single?"

But strangely, those words never come. Because Jake (God bless him) just thinks the bar is too noisy and that's why you're being quiet.

"Do you want to go outside? Where it's not as loud?"

"Why?" It's an automatic response due to years of being ignored, rejected, passed over. It's genuine confusion because he could be talking to anyone here, so why would he want to talk to you?

Jake's brows knit together in confusion. He thought he was being very obvious in his flirting.

"So I can hear you better?" He says it like a question because he's confused too, just for a different reason. He had pulled out all the stops; buying you a drink, complimenting your smile, leaning in to close the distance between his body and her's.

But that hasn't stopped her from looking around the bar, keeping an eye out for snickering friends who are filming the interaction with their phones or passing a wad of cash to each other for winning a bet this Adonis was acting out.

Long fingers hooked themselves around her chin, gently tilting her head back to Jake's.

His smile is now soft, hesitant almost. Nothing like the eye-crinkling grin he had early when he found something she said hilarious.

"If you don't want to, it's fine. You can tell me."

A way out. A way to avoid rejection. A way to avoid being let down, avoid feeling unwanted.

Saying no is the sensible thing to do.

And yet, she finds herself out on the beach with Jake Seresin, who's looking at her as if she put the stars in the night sky.

She knows she can leave anytime, and so could he. She expects it, waits for a half assed excuse, an 'emergency' phone call to occur, an early meeting tomorrow morning. Anything for him to leave.

But Jake doesn't leave. In fact, he does the unthinkable and asks if she wants to come back to his place.

Another chance to leave that she didn't take. She knows whatever this is, it won't last longer than tonight. It's going to hurt like hell tomorrow morning, but it's fun to pretend that a guy actually wants to be with you, right?

But Jake keeps surprising her. First when he kisses her.

Second when he asks if she wants to go upstairs.

He hasn't had a drink since they left the bar, so alcohol isn't clouding his vision and the whole being in the Navy thing rules out drugs.

Maybe it's been a while since he's gotten laid and he's desperate. But even she knows that one is impossible given his looks and charms.

The biggest surprise is when he doesn't reach for the lamp after she lies down on his bed.

"Aren't you...going to turn it off?" She motions to the lamp, a rather incredulous look taking over her face.

Jake tilts his head to the side, resembling a confused puppy more than a Greek God.

"Why would I do that? Then I can't see you."

He wants to see me.

The words repeat over and over in her head. When he pulls off her shirt, she fights the urge to wrap her arms around her stomach, instead pulling him into a bruising kiss.

"You're so soft," his hands are traveling everywhere along her body, as if he's trying to commit the feeling to memory, "Fucking love it."

The seed of doubt becomes smaller and smaller as the night goes on, though it still looms in the back of her head. This is just for a night, it'll only last a night, but what's wrong with that?

There's a lot wrong with that, but that's something to talk in therapy. She tries to push it to the back of her mind, focusing on how good his tongue feels on her clit, how his fingers are able to find the spot that makes her whole body shake in pleasure.

Wait, how long has he been down there?

She was expecting him to come up when she first came but then he kept going.

The noises Jake was making kept getting louder too. Moans vibrating against her wet cunt. Then the bed began to squeak.

That was what caused her to lift her head up and look at the sight between her legs.

His eyes were completely closed as his mouth moved against her. What took the breath out of her lungs was the way his hips were moving frantically against the mattress, becoming more erratic as his moans increased.

Fuck, he was enjoying this.

He was enjoying her.

This was....new.

[pedroshotwifey]

Without Words

This can be seen as a stand-alone but I count it as a part to two this fic

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Tags/Warnings: Oral (m), cock worship, piv sex, rough sex, choking, semi-public sex, sprinkles of feelings, age gap, face fucking, degrading names (affectionate), cum eating, stuff I'm forgetting

Summary: You want to show Joel how much he means to you...but maybe in a less classy way.

A/N: Hey, babes! I hope you enjoy this part! I know a lot of people wanted to see an update, so here we are <3

*****

It’s been another long ass day. You and Joel were able to pick up the same shift, but there was enough work for four people—which is not the norm for the job you’d picked today. It took you three hours too long, but you’d gotten it done. Now that you and Joel aren’t glaring daggers at each other anymore, you’re actually able to be productive. 

You walk hand-in-hand with him now toward your shared apartment. It’s been about a year since the two of you had caved into each other, and things honestly couldn’t be better. You’d had your fair share of fights—which is only to be expected with the attitude you both possess—but things have been good. 

You moved into his apartment a couple of months ago, since he kept having to sneak out of yours too close to curfew. He practically lived at your apartment, even though his was bigger, because he didn’t want to risk you walking home late at night. It was an effortless change for you. 

There was the issue at first about your age difference, and about how people might react when they realize what the two of you had become, but neither of you wanted to let that affect you. It’s the end of the fucking world, as Joel had put it, you both deserve to spend it with whoever you want. 

You look up at him, admiring the way he walks so confidently with you on his arm. Like it’s no big deal at all. It took a little while for people to stop giving the two of you strange looks, but even from the start, he had embraced your relationship with no shame. 

You haven’t even told him you love him yet. 

It’s more of an unspoken thing, you think. Something you show with gifts and actions and physical affection, because deep down, you’re both still broken people in the apocalypse, and you don’t want to admit that you have a weakness. That’s what love is, after all. Just another thing for you to lose. 

“Joel?” 

It’s only now that you finally lose your composure. All damn day, you’ve been distracted, and you can tell he knew that much, but maybe not exactly what the problem was. Maybe it’s that thought—that you haven’t told him how you feel. But you know that you won’t even now. So you’ve been caught up in other ways to show him, to tell him. 

You’ve been thinking about it all night. Ever since the two of you got home from your shift and he shucked his pants off to change. It’s not your fault, really. Not your fault the man has a massive fucking cock that makes a sizable, mouthwatering—and extremely daydream-able—bulge in his boxers. 

You’re not usually a weak woman, but. Shit. Nobody would be blaming you for what you’re about to do if they were in the position to do it. 

“Let me suck your dick,” you whisper up at him, watching his eyes go wide as he snaps his head left and right to make sure nobody heard that. 

The two of you had gone to the last dinner offered at the hall, so it’s pretty dark out, and it’s also been raining for the last hour or so. There are only a few people out other than you since it’s so close to curfew, but Joel’s face still goes a little red at your request. You can’t help but bite your lip to contain your smile. 

It really is funny how flustered he gets about you saying something like that when he’s the one who loves to talk about railing you in public. There’s not a single person under the canopy that you stopped under, but he still lowers his voice as he speaks. 

“Yes fuckin’ please,” he says through a scoff. “But you couldn’t wait to run that filthy little mouth until we got home?” 

You shake your head, smirking at him. You swear you can feel your heart beating against your ribs as you wait for him to understand your request. Your body is going hot from the pure want coursing through your veins. 

“I want it now,” you practically whine as you pull on his arm like a petulant child. His eyes go wide again.

“Now?” he asks, obviously a bit shocked at your sudden desperation. 

You nod at him, licking your lips. 

This time, you catch a small twitch from between his legs before you give him your best doe eyes. You glance at the dark, empty alley a few feet away from you, and his eyes harden. He glances around one more time, clutches your upper arm, and drags you into the concealed space. 

“Shit, baby, just be fuckin’ quick about it,” he mutters as he shoves you down to your knees. You smile devilishly up at him as your hands immediately fly to his zipper. 

You frantically pull them down, the zip getting stuck halfway due to the massive bulge pushing against the denim. Joel hisses and you whimper as you snag it down quickly, not caring if it breaks or not. 

The first time you saw him, you’d had a hard time admitting to yourself that it was the most gorgeous cock you’ve ever laid eyes on. It took a minute for you to understand that he wasn’t a threat, and only then did you allow yourself to appreciate the appendage to the degree that you do now. Since then, you’ve been sure to let Joel know just how much you love it. 

It makes your mouth water as you pull it out from his pants. Girthy and long enough to still almost scare you even at half-mast. You know how it fits inside you though, how good it makes you feel when he’s pummeling it into your sore, stretched cunt at full force. 

You want it to feel as good as you do, to feel the way your wet, hot mouth can wrap around it and slobber on it until Joel’s thick thighs are shaking with need to spill his seed down your welcoming throat. 

The feeling of one of Joel’s hands threading your hair between his fingers and pushing you toward his crotch pulls you out of your daze. 

“You gonna suck it or fuckin’ stare at it?” 

You shoot Joel an annoyed glance and squeeze him lightly in warning. You give in anyway, however. It really doesn’t take much. 

He makes a grunting sound as you take the fat tip of him between your lips, suckling the head and tonguing at his slit as your hand pumps the rest of him. You love the taste of his salty pre-cum on your tongue as you eagerly lap him, trying to get more. 

Joel pushes harder on the back of your head and bucks his hips forward—though you’re not sure if that part is voluntary. Your hand moves back to the root of him, holding tightly and pushing him so that he can’t shove himself into your mouth. 

You pop your mouth off of him, ignoring the string of spit that keeps you connected to his soaked tip. With heavy lids, you glance up at him to find that he’s staring back at you with a look in his eyes that can only be described as fiery. 

“Be patient, old man, I’m trying to enjoy myself.” 

Joel scowls at you. “The fuck you mean enjoy yourself? You’re suckin’ my cock,” he snaps.

“Okay, well I happen to really fucking like sucking your cock, Joel, so be. patient.” 

He rolls his eyes at you and leans his head back against the brick wall behind him. Satisfied that he’s stopped arguing, you go back to his dick, grabbing it so that the underside of it is facing you. 

You lean forward to lick up the entirety of it, coming down to suck and kiss at his balls every couple of strokes. Your head is going a bit fuzzy and your core is throbbing almost painfully with need. 

You can’t stop though, you love the feel of his silky skin on your tongue, the way it moves slightly with each pass of your mouth. You moan loudly against him, enough so that it reaches Joel’s ears through the sound of the heavy raindrops pelting the ground and buildings around you. 

He pulls sharply on your hair, but is unable to pull you away with how tightly you latch on to his thighs. You squeeze your eyes shut and just about double your efforts to ensure he won’t make you stop. 

“Gotta hush, baby. Sound like a fuckin’ whore, moanin’ on my cock like that,” Joel squeezes out at you through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah, but you love it,” you pull away just enough to retort.

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Joel smirks back at you as you get back to work. “Little s-slut just for me.”

When you lean forward this time, you take him fully between your lips, swallowing as much as you can to get him as deep as possible. You know you’re drooling, but you can’t find it in you to care, you’re far too drunk on his taste, his scent, the feel of his cock inside your greedy mouth. 

Joel groans as you suck harshly, resisting the urge to gag as you hold him in your hot mouth and fondle his balls. God, you can’t fucking get enough. You pull back again once you literally can’t breathe, but not before taking his balls into your mouth once a piece. 

“Fucking love your cock, Joel,” you tell him as you stroke him lazily. 

“I know you fuckin’ do, darlin’. Why don’t you show him how much? Make him feel good, hm?” 

You nod eagerly at him and put your mouth back on him, bobbing your head and using your hand to tightly pump what you’re not able to reach. Joel makes a choked sound and grips your hair so tight that tears spring to your eyes. 

The sounds reverberating through the alley are nasty, but it only turns you on more. Between Joel’s bitten-down moans and the sound coming from his dick being slammed down your throat, it’s a fucking symphony in your ears. 

“Shit,” Joel breathes from above you. “Want to be inside you, baby.” 

You shake your head as much as you’re able. You want his cum down your throat, that’s the whole point of this. Twin tears trail down your messed cheeks with the movement, but you keep going at a quick but steady pace. 

He grunts and pulls on you again, and this time, you’re forced to let go. 

“Joooel,” you whine, hands going out to grab at him, only for him to squeeze again and hold you firmly in place. 

“You fuckin’ quit that, now,” he commands, and you do. Albeit reluctantly and with a furious pout. His cock bobs tauntingly in front of you, throbbing and glistening with your saliva. 

“C’mon, princess. Up.” 

You continue pouting but do as he says, letting him haul you up so he can pull your pants and underwear down. You yelp, not expecting that part so quickly. The cool, moist air hits your heated core and you clench your thighs, making it more difficult for Joel to spin you around and shove you against the wall. 

He’s behind you again in a heartbeat, the tip of his cock breaching your tight hole as he presses his entire front to your back. You keen as he slides into you, the stretch making your toes curl in your boots. 

“See?” Joel mutters into your ear. “Shut you up quick, didn’t it?” 

You can only nod as he starts to move inside of you, your slick making it easy for him to build up a quick pace. Your fingers spread out on the brick wall as he grips your hips and thrusts harshly up into you, a sheen of sweat starting to cover your body at the force in which he’s using you with. 

He hits your g-spot each time, making you huff out weak little moans to mingle with his grunts. His heavy balls slap against you with each thrust, making a lewd sound against your soaked seam and sending shocks atop your swollen clit. 

You mewl as your orgasm starts to build, a warmth starting to spread throughout your entire body. And when Joel brings one hand to wrap around your throat, you just about lose it. He squeezes the sides, cutting off your airflow and making your head spin. 

You close your eyes and your senses hone in only on the feeling of his cock spearing into you, the way his grip is so hard on your hip that there are sure to be bruises in the morning. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder and he uses the opportunity to nuzzle your jaw. 

“So s-soft ‘n’ wet for me, ain't ya? Like soaked fuckin’ silk.” 

You whimper as much as you’re able, your body starting to shake as you get closer to the edge. Joel lets his fingers ease up from the grip he has on your throat, allowing air to sweep back into your lungs, and you explode. 

You moan obscenely as you cream on his cock, his hand moving to your clit to thumb tight circles and prolong your pleasure. Your hands move from the wall to grip hard onto his forearms. 

“That’s a good girl,” he growls into your ear. 

“M–Please, Joel,” you whine. “Let me swallow–I–” 

Joel’s dark laugh startles you, but he moves to give you what you want. He pulls his cock out of you, and you suddenly feel empty. You whine despite yourself, but are quickly distracted again by the way he spins you around and shoves you back to your knees, your pants still pulled down around your ankles. 

You watch him dazedly as he fists his drenched cock and then guides it back to your swollen lips. You taste yourself on him as he pumps his hips and glides onto your tongue. He places a hand on the back of your head again, helping you take him. 

“There you go, you fuckin’ cum-hungry little slut.” 

You moan, and you can tell that’s his undoing as the vibrations travel through his length. He shudders and groans into the empty alley as his balls tug up and he spills into your mouth. You greedily drink him down, gripping his thighs and closing your eyes as you focus on not spilling a single drop. 

He pushes your head down until he hits the back of your throat, waiting for you to gag before he slowly pulls all the way back out. You’re both sweaty and panting but you still open your mouth and tilt your head up for approval that you swallowed every bit of his cum. Joel watches you with parted lips and nods. 

“Good job, princess,” he tells you, and you smile. 

“Alright, baby, I gotta get you home before curfew,” he says after a moment. “Let’s get you cleaned up so it doesn’t look like we just fucked in a damn alley.” 

You grin at him and lift your arms for him to help you up again. You don’t tell him that it’s pointless to clean you up since you’ll just end up in the same state once you get home. If there’s one thing that will never dwindle in your relationship, it’s the insatiable hunger that the two of you harbor for one another—and all the messes and mischief that comes with it.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

This will be more of a personal post sprinkled with some thoughts on AYS?!, so for those interested strictly in shipping content, you can skip this.

I couldn't help myself yesterday to wait until my work schedule was done. So I watched the first two episodes during lunch break and work, while using the keyboard from time to time to not appear offline.

And then a second time in the evening, without as many interruptions. I even texted my sister to remind her that the episodes have been released (she has JK's songs on her playlists and that's where it stops). My tone was very casual, as if I just remembered it was already up. As if I haven't actually been thinking and obsessing about that show for a year now. But that's because I can't let this online, fandom "life" seep through my other, "real" one. I've always struggled with my feelings of shame over being part of such spaces. Which is why I avoided them completely. Up until four years ago. I'm still dealing with it. I don't want to tell people that I have an interest in a kpop ship and that it's been ongoing for a few years now. It feels to foreign to the image I allow others to have of me and this kpop stuff is childish to say the least. I've fallen victim to the talking points I've argued against intellectually. But life doesn't work that way. My rational brain doesn't get along with my feelings.

So I keep my thoughts about shipping, fandoms, jikook here. And I share them with friends and people that have a connection to it. It's why I have a blog. So I can post a photo of jikook holding hands at the beginning of their journey and at least 10 people will understand it cause they like the same thing. I'm not a loser on my own here so the thought feels comforting.

I didn't have specific expectations about AYS?!, but I felt happy watching it. It was different, but a good different. Having the opporrtunity to witness them from morning till evening without any interruptions painted an interesting picture and it's the first time to see some parts of their dynamic.

They bicker, they flirt, they get lovingly annoyed, they get bored, they get silent, they get touchy. It feels more real than any 2-min clip from a Memories DVD could possibly show us. I don't want picture perfect jikook because it doesn't exist. Being in stan spaces, all I see everyday is worship, a mentality that is then transfered to the people surrounding the idol. But I don't want JK to worship Jimin 24/7 or vice versa. That's not a real relationship of any kind. I want to see them treat each other like they're just people. Which is what they did. Too bad that some have interpreted that as negative when in fact all we got were clear signs of actual closeness. And nothing beats it like Jungkook's attitude towards Jimin being sick. Shippers/supporters have clips and endless arguments on hand to explain the closeness between jikook, but honestly? That first evening in the cabin when JM was in the bathroom and subsequently the next morning should be the sole argument from now on. It can't be more obvious if it hit us in the head.

It's not about needing confirmation at every step of them being a couple. At least I don't need that. In the long run, it wouldn't even matter if they're not. What's noticeable is that they appear to be one and that doesn't come out of thin air.

Is my mood volatile these days? Yes. Actually these past few months. Do I need this show as one of those feel good series? Definitely, because there's nothing else out there to catch my attention in terms of tv content. I don't want to pick apart and poke holes and question every single line to make myself feel miserable. Everything else is too bad and I am too lame so I rely on this show for a short, temporary thing that improves my mood. I don't care about other things, doubts or worries. I really really just want to enjoy jikook doing whatever they want. I don't have high standards.

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles - Update 03/Nov/2023

A different and exciting update this week!!

So, a little while ago, I had this idea pop into my head, and I just couldn’t let it go. It built and built until it formed into a full-fledged plan in my head and then on paper. But I didn’t really do much about it because time-constraints, etc.

But with Book Four being quite intense in different ways, the idea I was imagining was much more…fluffy, hehe! Not that Book Four doesn’t have some awesome fun, downtime moments, but this other thought was more of that.

Then one day I mentioned it to Nai, and she absolutely loved it, so then it started to become even more of a plan with her excitement fueling it!

And this week, I began making a real start on it…

I don’t really want to promise anything quite yet—as you can probably guess considering the theme of this project that it’s a bit of a tight schedule if I want to get it out on time—and I would hate to disappoint anyone, but I really am slamming through it already and am ahead of the very strict schedule I have for it!

If it comes together as smoothly as hoped, then it’ll be available for purchase via itch.io for Windows, PC, as we haven’t managed to find anyone who could port it for us yet, but hopefully that might still happen! It’ll also be avaliable for $5+ patrons on Patreon as a free download on Windows, PC!

Next week I will be squeezing in social media days before hammering back through this again!

I realise I’m being super vague about this, but I will be sharing much more as the weeks go on, and it begins coming more to life, but I can give a small hint…

--

Waiting at The Square, on a Very Chilly Evening.

Christmas in Wayhaven.

It's sparkling, frosted, and magical…quite literally.

Which means the spirit of the season takes on a whole new perspective when you know magic is actually real.

--

Prepare for something light, fluffy, cosy, and full of festive fun with those Unit Bravo romances… ;D

(This ‘novella/side-story’-type game won’t be considered canon or anything, so you don’t need to play it to enjoy the main series if it’s not something you’re interested in. It’s more just a nice moment between the books to simply indulge much more in the actual romance-side of things, hehe!)

I hope you all have the most amazing weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll update again next Friday with more hints about what’s to come…hehehe! ;D

[riordanness]

cardigan — [e.pevensie]

wordcount: 1.5K

warnings: not technically x reader as ‘reader’ is named Belle

requested: no

“She won’t stop staring.”

“Then stop looking.”

Belle has to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the ridiculous Telmarine soldiers. They’re both clearly terrified of their mission, and are both riddled with anxiety about the entire thing. Which is hilarious.

“You could just let me go,” she says nonchalantly. “Save yourself the risk of aggravating the woods’ spirits.”

The Telmarine facing her gives her a glare. His grip on the sword across his lap tightens.

Belle decides to shut up.

“Here will do,” the other soldier says, the oars in his hands slowing. “Let's just dump her and get it over with.”

The soldiers get to their feet unsteadily. The boat rocks, and Belle wonders what would happen if she tried to tip all three of them into the water. But before she can come up with a good way to execute that plan, the Telmarine snatches her up, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

“Drop them!” An unfamiliar female voice rings out, and stories of ghosts in the woods run through Belle’s mind. She half turns, and just has time to see four figures on the shore before she’s dropped, literally, into the cold water.

Bubbles surround Belle, and she’s disoriented instantly. Her bound wrists make it impossible to swim, so she sinks, struggling furiously to get loose. Her dress is heavy and sticking to her legs. Her chest is tightening, and black is crawling at the edges of her vision.

Then, something pulls at her, arms slide around her waist, and she is yanked out of the water. Belle gasps, practically drinking the air.

She’s pulled to shore, and laid down on the sand. Something cuts the ropes from her hands. She coughs for a second, getting her bearings back. Drowning was a very awful experience. Belle did not recommend it at all.

“Are you alright?” A girl’s voice asks her, a different one from before, younger.

Belle reacts, twisting as she rises, her dagger, which was previously concealed in her skirts, at the young girl’s throat within seconds.

Shouting erupts from behind them, and Belle glanced to see three others, two boys and an older girl, all with weapons at the ready. The girl has an arrow aimed at Belle’s heart, and both boys have their swords raised.

“Drop it,” the older boy tells her, and his voice is hard and commanding, like he’s used to giving orders.

The girl at Belle’s side doesn’t look particularly scared. “It’s okay,” she promises. “We’re friends.”

Belle narrows her eyes. “How would I know that?”

“Well,” the older girl says, “we did just save your life.”

“Actually, that was me.” It’s the younger boy this time. Belle focuses on him. He has dark hair that’s slightly curly and wet. He looks about her age, and his clothes are wet too. “Don’t worry,” he says to Belle. “We are friends. We won’t hurt you. Just please let Lucy go?”

Belle takes a step back from Lucy, still watching them all carefully. “Fine. Thanks for saving me. Bye.” She turns, but doesn’t even make it three steps before the older boy calls after her.

“Wait!”

She sighs, and looks at them.

“We don’t even know your name.” The older girl has her bow away now, but her eyes look plenty vicious enough for Belle. She doesn’t trust them; any of them.

“I’m Belle,” she says flatly. “Now can I go?”

“Why were they trying to drown you?” Lucy looks up at Belle, and her childlike innocence warms Belle’s heart. She has pretty eyes, too, Belle thinks, full of bravery and fearlessness and determination.

“Because I ran away from the castle where I was, well, a servant of sorts. Because I’m on the side of the true king. And because Miraz is a tyrant,” Belle says.

“Whoa Miraz?” the older boy asks.

Belle raises an eyebrow. “Where have you been living lately? Under a rock? He’s the sort of King? Of Narnia?”

“Narnia?” Lucy gasps. “So it is Narnia!”

Belle frowns. “Uh. Yes. This is Narnia. I’m confused.”

The four all exchange looks. “We’ll tell you,” the older girl tells Belle. “But you have to tell us your story first.”

Belle shrugs. “Whatever.”

Soon enough, the five of them are seated around a campfire. The sun is going down, and Belle’s still-wet dress is chilling her to the core. She doesn’t say anything about it, though.

“So,” she starts, accepting a toasted apple from Lucy. “I’m a handmaid in Miraz’s palace. He’s the brother of the king, but he’s basically put himself in the role of king ever since King Caspian the Ninth died. His son, Caspian the Tenth, should be king, but Miraz doesn’t want that. He wants the throne to himself, you see. Anyways, I’m on the side of Caspian and the old Narnians, so I helped him escape a few nights ago. Miraz’s wife had a baby boy, so he wants to kill Caspian and make himself the king, now that he has an heir.”

Belle takes a bite of the apple, and it’s surprisingly good. “I was going to be executed because they somehow found out I helped Caspian.”

“Yikes,” the younger boy says, throwing his apple core into the flames. “Cool story.”

The older girl is watching Belle. “So what’s your plan now?” she asks.

Belle shrugs. “Go into the woods. Find Caspian and help him to get his throne back, I guess. We were always really close at the palace, since I grew up there and we’re not too far apart in age.”

The emotions in her voice must have been more obvious than she thought, because Lucy shuffles over to sit beside her, their shoulders touching. Belle gives the girl a soft smile, before she glanced up at the other three.

“So?” she says. “What’s your story?”

The older two exchange a glance. “We’re the kings and queens of old,” the older boy says. “I’m High King Peter, the Magnificent.”

Belle isn’t even that shocked. She’s kind of guessed it by now, even though it was impossible. “You know you guys should be about 1200 years old now, right?”

The younger boy chuckles. “I’m Edmund.”

Belle nods her head at him. “I figured. And you must be Queen Susan?” She glances at the older girl. Susan smiles gently.

“Just Susan is fine.”

Belle salutes. “Whatever you say, Just Susan.”

Edmund laughs again, but tries to hide it with a cough.

Belle stands, shaking her heavy skirts as best she can. It’s an awful material, still holding most of the water from earlier in its skirts. She lets out an angry sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy asks.

“Oh, it’s my dress,” Belle sighs, sitting back down. “They didn’t let me change for the execution and I was doing heavy cleaning this morning. It’s a really terrible dress to wear while it’s wet.”

Lucy looks at Edmund. “Do we still have our school things?” she asked excitedly.

Edmund nods, slowly at first but then he seems to get the idea. “I’ll get them.” He hurries over to the rowboat, which now has a small pile of their things next to it. He brings back over a white shirt and black pants, as well as a strange black skirt.

“Here,” he hands them to Belle. “Sorry—they’re mostly boy’s things but you look about my size and Susan ruined her shirt earlier. But there’s my shirt and pants and Su’s skirt if you'd rather that.”

Belle offers him a smile. “Thank you, King Edmund.”

“No need to call me King,” he says back, as he lays himself back onto the sand. His black hair is messy and reflects the fire’s flickering light.

“I’m just going to go get changed in the tree line,” Belle tells the group. “If I ain’t back in five, panic.”

The others grin as she heads off, the clothes bundled in her arms. Behind a tree, she pulls her dress off over her head, depositing it in a bush. She then peels off her petticoats and corset, leaving only her thin under-bodice and under-shorts on. Belle then tried on Edmund’s shirt, which fits surprisingly well. It’s an odd kind of shirt though, a lot stiffer than ones she’s used to mending. She buttons it up, rolling the sleeves up to her elbows and leaving the top two buttons undone. Now that she isn’t wet, it’s a pretty warm night.

Belle decides to wear the skirt, as she is shorter than Edmund and doesn’t want to wear his pants if they’ll be too long. They’d just be a tripping hazard. She instead pulls on Susan’s skirt, buttoning it up on the side. It’s also very strange, but comfortable, and very freeing and easy to move in. It stops just above her knee. Belle runs her hands through her hair, which has long since come undone and is tangled and knotted due to the water.

Feeling somewhat presentable, Belle scoops up the clothes from the ground and heads back to the fire.

Edmund’s eyes are on her at once, and she isn’t sure if the heat in her cheeks is from him or the fire.

“Oh—“ Edmund stutters a little. “That… you look good in those.”

Belle smiles, a little triumphant. “They’re quite comfortable. Thank you, Edmund.”

“Anytime,” he replies softly. “Anytime.”

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 6

Steve expected the crowd outside of the door. He expected the Alphas, four of them, intermingled with a small team of Betas for pheromone control. He didn’t expect the rise in aggression that spiked in him at the sight of them all, but he had enough self-control to shut it down as quick as it spiked.

They were there to protect Eddie, they weren’t there to hurt Eddie. They were there to protect him from Steve if need be, even at the risk of their own safety. They were doing their jobs.

“I’m okay.” He held up his hands in a bid to relax the crowd “I’m under control.”

“Very nearly weren’t, though, were you, Steve?” He also didn’t expect him. Although he should have. It wasn’t like Owens wasn’t around. It wasn’t like Owens wasn’t liable if things went sideways in the clinic, if one of his Alphas on staff assaulted someone. Sam Owens, Beta, good with the younger patients. Always had lollies in his coat pocket for the scared or nervous ones. “What’s everyone still doing here? Go on, off you go, crisis averted! Crowd disperse!” Looks were shared, before the small team dispersed back to their original stations, back to their actual jobs. “Steve, you come with me.”

“I can’t be away from him for long, I—”

“You won’t be, now come with me.” No room for argument, no matter how friendly the betas tone was, no matter how neutral he sounded. Owens was the boss. He was the one with all the degrees, the qualifications, the experience. Steve followed, he followed all the way down the main hallway and to the left, right to the end of that one, and through the door at the end, directors office, where he watched Owens take a seat behind his desk, only taking the one in front of it when it was offered. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Have a drink.” Owens stood and retrieved a soda can from a mini fridge he kept in his office, placing it on the desk for him before sitting back down. “You’re not in trouble Steve. It’s okay.”

“But I broke—”

“Nothing. You broke nothing. You kept yourself completely under control, and while yes it looked bad from the angle of the cameras, security were right in raising a response unit, you kept yourself in check, that shows an incredible amount of self-control, you broke nothing. You can relax.” It took him a moment, but he let the tension drain, it was okay, he wasn’t in trouble, he could have that drink, and everything would be fine. Owens even waited for him to finish his first swig of the refreshing liquid before he spoke again “What happened, from your perspective, Steve? Tell me everything from the moment you met him to… that.”

“In detail?”

“Condense it for me. Mr. Munson won’t be asleep forever, he’ll likely need you when he wakes so I don’t want to keep you here too long.” He could go back. He was allowed back. That last bit of tension draining away. It’d be okay.

“Right… uhm… well, I know him. We went to school together.”

“You’ve known a few Omegas who’ve been treated here, Mr. Emerson attends Hawkins Highschool as well, I’m sure you must have met him before, yet this wasn’t an issue in that assignment, what makes Mr. Munson different?”

“I don’t know, it’s like… it feels… right? Like—like I belong with him I—I don’t—I’ve never reacted like that to an Omega’s pre-heat scent before, it’s… I don’t know—” confusing, baffling, overwhelming, he wanted… god he wanted so badly but he didn’t know why.

“Like he’s yours?” It wasn’t an accusation, although a defensive alpha might have seen it as one, Steve kept his defences low. Sam Owens was not a threat. He’d already said Steve wasn’t in trouble.

“No… like… like I’m his” Owens nodded “like… like I was always supposed to be his” everything just clicking into place piece by piece, why he’d never been able to find the right person to settle down with, why his eyes had always been drawn to Eddie, sure he thought it was because Eddie just naturally drew the attention to himself, but—maybe it wasn’t that simple for him, maybe it wasn’t just Eddie’s ability to be the loudest person in a room that had Steve’s eyes drawn to him so often. “does that make sense?”

He'd just never gotten close enough to the Omega assume anything different.

“Unfortunately quite a bit. Yes.” Owens stood back up, and rounded his chair to the book case, where he perused for a moment before settling on a thin book bound in red leather, a notebook. “There’ve been a fair few cases of this kind of thing cropping up in clinics across the globe for as long as clinics like Nest have existed. Alphas and Omegas in close proximity during heats, it happens. Fanciful folk like to add romanticized labels to the whole thing, soulmates, fated mates, true mates. I’ve never been a fan of that terminology, they remove the essence of choice in it all. Of our own autonomy. When in reality, all it is, is that you both give off each other’s ideal scent, as in there's nothing in the subtle notes of it to put you off, and Eddie is just giving off a lot of his right now without anything to mask it.” That pre-heat scent doing its job too well. "The working term among the clinics is actually 'Scent Mates.'"

“…Excuse me?”

“We all have our individual scents, Steve, outside of things we can control like our cologne, perfume, the food and drink we’ve consumed, the fabric of the clothes we wear, we all give off our own individual unique scent underneath all of that. And we all have an ideal scent that makes us feel safe, comforted, that makes us feel all those good things we crave in life. We can settle in those scents, surrounded by them, they make us feel at home. Like we belong there.”

He belonged… like he belonged… he felt that. He felt so strongly that he belonged with Eddie, that everything was right with Eddie in his arms. “That’s—that’s what I felt like, like… I belonged there, like it was right… and when he asked me to—y’know, I barely managed to stop myself.” It felt right to be with him.

It felt wrong to pull away.

“Although I can't speak for him, or make any assumptions as to how he’ll feel after his heat because sometimes it is one sided when the dust settles, he must feel very drawn by your scent too, to be so comfortable around you, to be so responsive, especially so early in his heat, maybe yours might even be his ideal, making you both one of the many ‘scent mates’ who’ve found each other through these clinics. I wouldn’t blame him for being drawn to it though, who doesn’t enjoy a walk past a bakery in the morning?” It was meant as a joke, and maybe if he hadn’t said the first part Steve would have laughed… but he did say the first part.

“…He might not though?”

“It’s possible, just like physical attraction between primary genders, sometimes it’s one sided, with just the Omega’s heat temporarily pushing that attraction on their side to fulfil their instinct to be bred. But you and I both know, Omega’s don’t crave the touch of an Alpha during the first stage of their heat… his response to you is indicative of those going into the third stage, quite the advance given he’s been here only a day.” It wasn’t common.

Owens was right, Steve had tended to many Omega’s in his time at Nest, they all had variety, different behaviours, different traits, but the one thing that stayed the same was… heats progressed as they normally would.

Pre-heat, carb load, insatiable, then recovery.

Each stage had its own kind of behaviours exhibited. Omega’s didn’t want sex during pre-heat, they wanted to prepare, to build a nest, to get comfortable, to feel safe, and in the clinic... to get to know the alpha who'd be helping them.

Eddie just had to be different, didn’t he?

Owens was still talking “—sure, while we were already keeping him under close watch due to his history of violence, for safety reasons we’re going to have to be very careful with you as his assigned Alpha. Be honest with me, Steve… can you handle this?”

“I can handle it. I won’t hurt him.”

“I know you won’t, there's never been a recorded incident between scent mates that makes me think you would. Head to the cafeteria before you make your way back to him, I’m sure he’ll appreciate food when he wakes up.”

“…You’re really letting me stay with him?” With increased security, likely a door guard or two, but still.

“Would any other alpha be safe in there with him?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Exactly. Off you go.”

Part 8