#which i dunno could be a slight problem

[disdaidal]

I got accepted to a school! 🥳✨ I should be starting my studies as a playgroup supervisor on August.

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀LITTLE MISS PERFECT

synopsis : getting homosexual tendencies for her best friend? absolutely not!

note : i just started playing tlou2 again and my love for abby and ellie blossomed again. naughty dog knew what they were doing

ft. : questioning homosexuality, internalized homophobia, non-apocalyptic au, implied smut but not that descriptive, ellie already has a crush on reader but it’s not really described until they kiss and what not.

you search through the rack of bras, lazily looking for one that at least looks fitting. you huff, starting to lose hope. your hands stop at one. a black lacy one, which if your wore, would cover nothing. it reminded you of that erotic video you found went internet surfing.

two women alone together, exploring each other’s bodies. their tongues acting like a paintbrush and their bodies were canvases, covered in saliva.

you press your lips together, trying to push down the tingling in your body. you can’t be gay. you literally have a crush on that ABC news host.

“[name], honey? did you find one yet?” your mother asks, messing with the displayed jewelry. “no, there’s nothing here.” you sigh, hiding the bra in the rack.

you had no problem with homosexuality. hell, your whole search history is the complete opposite of heterosexuality. your best friend is a lesbian. but there is no way you’re gay. that’s…just not you.

after many of those “are you gay” tests, your answers remain the same. ‘you’re most definitely a lesbian, babes’.

you lay on ellie’s bed, blindly flipping through one of her many comic books. you blow raspberry, getting bored a little. “what?” she diverts her eyes from her TV for a second before tending back to her game.

“nothing.” you flip a few more pages until your eyes land on a certain panel. two girls in close proximity, lips ghosting over each other. you swallow a large lump, trying to push away the thoughts again.

but now you can only think of you in that situation. curled up next to a girl, her hand rubbing softly on your waist.

you try to picture what she would look like, only seeing your best friend’s face. you groan, rolling on your back.

“ellie?” she hums in response. you fiddle with your thumbs before asking the question. “how did you know you were gay?”

her game pauses. “what?” she looks at you before her eyes travels to her opened comic book. “ooooh.” she laughs, picking up the book. “you picked the one i didn’t want you to get.” she closes the book, stuffing it under her bed.

she leans back, propping herself up with her arms. “ i dunno. i just…” she shrugs, “never pictured myself with a guy. and you know, boobies.”

you softly hit her, making her laugh. “i’m serious, ellie. i think i might be gay. lesbian, bi-i don’t know!” you groan, stuffing your face in your hands.

“i mean, why don’t you?” she lays on her side, looking at you. “that ABC news host.”

“David Muir?”

you nod, making her scoff. “do you have a crush on any guy at job?” she twirls a strand of your hair in her fingers. “god no. they all look like troglodytes.” you grimace at the thought of liking them.

“can you picture yourself marrying a man for the rest of your life?”

that question made your stomach drop. you feel bile pile up in your throat. ‘yes, you can’ you try to convince yourself.

“no, i guess not.” you give a slight frown at your answer, looking down.

“hey, it’s normal. not everyone is straight. and you sure aren’t.” she laughs. “oh shut it!” you huff.

she stops laughing after a while. “well, let’s kiss to see if you are gay.” she suggest so nonchalantly. kiss? your best friend?

“uhhhh..” “if you don’t like it, we don’t have to ever talk about it.”

you look at her, contemplating whether you should go through with this. you couldn’t deny that ellie was very attractive. you could say that she was your “gay awakening”. they way she was naturally flirty with you was the beginning of the questioning phase for you.

“let’s do it.” you sit on your legs, waiting for her to kiss you.

she gives you a soft smile, getting up.

“you sure?” she questions, not wanting this to go wrong. you nod.

she takes a deep breath, putting her hand on your cheek to pull you in.

your skin ignites. this is what you’ve dreamed of. intimacy with a woman. natural intimacy. not like those forced erotic videos you watch in your free time.

her lips press on yours, her eyelashes tickling the apple of your cheek. you reciprocate the affection, putting a hand on her cheek.

a moan slips from your lips, your eyes fluttering shut. the hand on your cheek falls to your hips, her hand squeezing for a few moments to tell her that this is real; this is actually happening.

in a flurry, her body is pressed on top of yours, her tongue exploring every crevice on your mouth. her hands slipped under the hem of your jeans, fingers brushing over the seat of your panties.

you card your hands through her auburn hair. “els…” you call to her as she pulls away, a string of saliva connecting from hers and your bottom lip.

“you okay, princess?” she moves her hand at an angle, her thumb drawing tight circles on the pearl of your cunt. you arch into her, making her chuckle.

you nod, a moan slipping from your lips again.

“yeah, you’re definitely gay.” she giggles, stuffing her face in the crook of your neck, making you laugh too. “shut up and use your hands, ellie.”

“oh, i know something better than my hands.” she leaves your neck for a moment, digging under her bed.

she pulls out a harness. one not built for your shoulders. the purpose accessory catches your eye, making you widen them. “is that…”

“i haven’t used it yet.” she smirks. “your call.”

do you have enough red orbs? stop by my store to request a fic!

[baegetas]

》 blackout.

son goku x afab reader

summary: sitting at the bar after a hard day, you're joined by none other than your friend gohan's father, and he knows how he can cheer you up.

warnings: minors do not interact, explicit content: age gap, multiple orgasms, (slight, if you squint) implied cheating, overstimulation, drunk sex, alcohol consumption

word count: 1.7k

you were alone at a bar. you'd completely flunked an exam that you'd studied hard for, and you were downing shots like they were nothing. even the bartender was asking if you were okay, to which you'd reply with a simple, "i will be."

while you were mindlessly scrolling through social media, a giggle cut through your brooding silence. it was familiar. you looked over your shoulder, finding that you were face-to-face with a "friend" of yours: goku. well, correction: he was gohan's father, and you were a friend of gohan's. you were a little scared of goku at first, but warmed up to him once you knew he wasn't some scary muscle-head. he grinned at you and promptly mused, "hey!"

"hello, goku."

he sat next to you, looking at you like a dejected puppy. "aw, what's wrong? you looked bored from over there, but man, you seem pretty sad."

you sighed, failing to hide the smile from him. "i guess. but i didn't expect to see you here, out of all people."

"whaaat?" goku giggled and spun the barstool around. "are you kidding? this place is so fun!"

"no, i mean, like, i didn't see you as much of a drinker."

"eh... if it's sweet, i don't care what it is. i'll drink it. heeeey!" he flagged down the bartender, grinning happily. "you have jello shots? yeah? you should give us a few!"

you gave him a slightly agitated look, to which he giggled and said, "don't worry, i'll pay! i don't know what's got you so down, but it's time to cheer up!"

that giggle would be the end of you, and you knew it. as the shots slid onto the counter in front of you, you sighed. it wouldn't be horrible to have a little fun, right?

next thing you knew, goku had convinced you to join him on the dance floor. there had always been something so charming about his idiocy. something charming about how oblivious he was. however, now that he had you in your own little corner of the place in the dark, you could see something else behind those sweet eyes. you could see intention, like he was aware of exactly what he was doing. he was aware that it was the two of you. he was aware that you were both tipsy. he was aware that he was double your size. he was very aware.

with the lights spinning again, flashing a multitude of colors, you found yourself lost in music. lost in liquor. you and goku had been gradually getting closer to one another. you found yourself dancing right against him, and his rough, calloused hands were sliding up and down the sides of your torso, with a focus on your hips. swaying back and forth in rhythm, you could feel his muscles against your back. you could feel his breath against your neck. you shuddered, and looked up at him for some sort of clue as to what he was thinking. and looking back at you were two serious, calculating eyes. like a predator. "heh. you look surprised."

your lip shook ever so slightly. "you... are you?"

he smirked. "am i what? gotta finish the sentence."

you hiccuped, trying to clear your throat. "flirting?"

"i dunno," he hummed, feigning innocence. "problem?"

your eyes flickered down to his hands on your hips. they were gripping you. "...no."

his voice dropped an octave, getting raspy. "nice. you mind if i do something?"

"to... to me?" he nodded, and you were having trouble suffocating the butterflies in your stomach. you swallowed roughly, leaning your head back against his shoulder as you stared up at him. he was holding you against him. for a moment, you thought, what would gohan think? i mean, this was your friend's dad. this man was twice your age. but nonetheless, you replied, "you... can do anything you want. to me."

within a split second, he flipped you around and pressed your back against the club's concrete wall. you had no time to breathe. goku was kissing you with a passion. your hands gripped his clothes, pulling him as close as you could. his thigh pressed in between your legs, and at that point, you were putty in his hands. all you could do was whine. this was a completely different goku, and you were loving it.

he sank his teeth into the side of your neck, and you moaned out loud. when you noticed someone staring at the two of you, your eyes widened. "ah- goku! hey."

he pulled back from your skin by just inches. "something wrong?"

"we... we can't do this. not... in public."

his voice was gravelly. "why not? i'm sure people would love to watch. make 'em jealous."

you blushed and stammered out, "it... it's indecent... and a little illegal... to do things like this in public. my apartment would be a better place."

"your apartment?" he stood straight up and pressed two fingers to his forehead. he gripped your shoulder tightly. "gotcha."

and suddenly, you were both standing in the front hallway of your apartment. you blinked a few times, unsure of what the fuck just happened, but all of that was thrown to the wayside when goku's lips found yours again, pressing you against the wall of your living room.

your belongings fell to the ground, and your hands started to pull his shirt up so you could feel his torso. every muscle, every divot - he was so fucking ripped. and his hands weren't wasting time with you, either. traveling up your thighs, he tore your panties off with one finger. his hand grabbed your entire ass, and he took in a deep inhale, smelling your scent on the skin of your neck. "god, you smell so good."

"you... ah!" you lost your train of thought when he started grinding his crotch against yours. with flushed cheeks from a drunken stupor, you mumbled, "you... want me, don't you?"

shedding his t-shirt, he growled, "what do you think?"

he was biting at your skin as his hands discarded the rest of your clothes, albeit in a more refined fashion. once you were completely nude, he couldn't hold himself back anymore. he picked you up like a doll. like you weighed absolutely nothing to him. he was quick to find your bedroom, and he quite literally threw you down onto the bed. then, he followed. and his tongue found your slit, rough hands pushing your thighs apart so he could taste you as much as he possibly could.

your hand tangled in his thick hair. he was so sloppy, but it was quick to send every nerve in your body into a frenzy. he would grunt and groan, and his nose would bump against your clit, sending a jolt through your body. when his tongue actually plunged into you, you lost all of your bearings. you came all over his face, and he replied to it with a pleased groan, unwilling to pull away until your body relaxed. with one eye open, you looked down at his messy face. his dark, widened pupils. his flushed cheeks. then, he grinned. "i thought you'd taste good, but that was better than i thought."

panting, you whined back, "goku... i..."

"already on it." he was quick to remove his pants and boxers, and he was quick to climb back over you, trapping you in another kiss. with the full weight of his body against his, you realized just how small you were. his length slid along your folds, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

your hands found his back when he got the opportunity to press himself into you, and he did so with a guttural groan. at that point, you couldn't think. the slow stretch was just too good, and your foreheads rested against one another until he was fully sheathed in you. he panted, "so... tight... i gotta..."

you panted back, "just... just fuck me."

and when his hips started snapping back and forth, you couldn't help but whine. your nails dug into his back, and his face was buried in your neck. he was relentless, keeping a fast, steady pace. as your moans got louder, you heard his voice in your ear. "shh... be a good girl. i know you can handle it."

hitting that sweet spot over and over, it didn't take any time for you to come undone a second time. and a third time. goku hadn't even broken much of a sweat, and he had you completely folded over underneath him. your eyes were locked on his as he cooed, "yeah, that's it. good."

in that moment, you understood that he was going to finish inside you. and you didn't care one bit about it. as if on cue, his huge frame leaned down to trap you in a tongue-filled kiss, hands gripping your ass. you weren't going anywhere. he had you completely pinned.

you'd lost count of how many times you came before his thrusts started to get sloppy. he was grunting more often, shaft head poking at your cervix every now and then. it hurt, but you were far too blissed out to care. "good girl. just... a little bit more, okay?"

by now, you were a babbling mess, but you managed to nod in response. the bed was slamming against the wall, and you knew that your neighbors on all sides would be complaining about the noise, if they hadn't already. his grunts were going right into your ear, and he grunted especially loudly as he said, "you ready?"

you nodded and mewled, "yes, please."

goku growled, then moaned beautifully has he came right into you. his hips didn't even stop, riding out his own orgasm with a blissful look on his face. when his hips eventually stopped, he collapsed onto you, breathing heavily. you were doing the same. your head was spinning. after only a minute, he propped himself up on his elbow. "whew... that was... amazing."

"i... know." you said this so quietly that you could barely hear it yourself. "it was."

then, goku gave you that trademark giggle. that trademark grin. you looked at him through half lidded eyes as he said, "i think we're gonna have to do that again. way more often than just once. i'm gonna need it."

you smiled and wrapped your arms around his torso. you couldn't respond vocally, but pulling him closer was the answer he needed. he giggled again and relaxed atop you, with no intention of moving any time soon.

[henneseyhoe]

Still Mine.

Tyrone x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Tyrone being a slut, baby daddy drama, smutty flashback, slight daddy kink, unprotected sex(wrap it before you smack it!), abortion mentioned, pill mentioned, baby trapping, short, tad bit unedited.

SUMMARY: During Tyrone’s weekly pickup of his daughter, he tries to make his baby mama fold.

Ps. This was originally SO much longer but I didn’t like the way some parts were written so I cut it in half lolzzz

✮✮✮✮

“You know if I licked it, it’s mine, right?”

Your face twisted into a mug at Tyrone’s words while packing a diaper bag with all the necessary things your daughter needed for the weekend with him.

“Tyrone, please don’t start with that tonight” You couldn’t believe the extents he’d go just because you were seeing other people, it was crazy! Tyrone didn’t see it that way though.

The man was a tyrant. A danger to society and other men when he suspects you fucking with somebody who wasn’t him. Every single time he found out, he would let you know that you had limited days with that nigga, which he was always right about.

They’d either disappear completely or simply just stop responding to your texts.

One time you saw one of them at the grocery store and tried to say hi but he ran the other way, even left his cart stacked with groceries. You wondered what the hell was going on, and why they were so scared, but you knew there was only one person that could have them running for the hills like that, and it wasn’t you.

“I’m not startin’ shit, I’m speakin’ facts. You playin’, knowing them niggas ain’t shit compared to me”

Though the statement was true, it was bold of him to assume you wasn’t getting any good play. It was rare you did, but still! It’s the audacity.

You look at Tyrone up and down before bursting into laughter, making the infant besides you both slightly jump in her pack and play, looking around in confusion before flipping over on her stomach, a skill she just learned.

“Oop- I’m sorry, mama” You apologize to her, the baby just rolling back over and blinking up at you with a tether in her mouth. “Now, back to yo’ delusional ass!”

You thanked god the small child wasn’t old enough to understand words because she would have been cursing like a sailor by now. Pointing at Tyrone with the acrylic nails he paid for, that same signature mean look on his face that he always wore when somebody had him fucked up, you squint.

“Ain’t shit yours, and it hasn’t been yours since about a year now”

Tyrone sucks his teeth, still not believing anything you were saying to him.

“You shittin’ me, it’s always gon be mine!”

“Says who?! You crazy” You blow him off with the wave of your hand, zipping the diaper bag up and handing it to him.

He grabs it, then drops it to his feet without a care, crossing his arms. You look at him with a confused expression, your eyebrow cocked upwards.

“Why you like playin’ wit’ me?” He questioned while straight faced, but you stood your ground, unlike when you use to submit under him and his tone when you two were together. Truthfully, you use to be a bit scared of the nigga. He never gave you a reason to be personally, but he was a hard shell to crack, you rarely knew if he was happy or sad until he said something to steer you in a certain direction.

“Tyrone, quit playing and find you something safe to do, aight?” You fired back, challenging him. He moved not one inch. You knew he wasn’t scared of you at all, so this was no surprise, but you wasn’t gonna take him treating you like this in your own damn house.

“How many niggas you fucked since we broke up, Y/N?”

You shrug. “However many I wanted. I dunno, I wasn’t counting”

“Okay” He nods slowly, putting you on edge just a tad bit. You hum and study his reaction. He only did that when he had some shit up his sleeve. A simple answer, then a nod before he did or said some fuck shit. “And if I find them niggas and suddenly they stop callin’, then what?” Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“One less problem for me. You already pack up enough niggas in the glen anyway. Can’t kill ‘em all!” You giggle childishly after gaining your composure again, but as you found humor, the man stayed oh so serious.

“Oh, you’d be surprised at what a nigga can do now”

“Lemme guess, you learned to read a no loitering sign? Or maybe a no trespassing one?” You continued to joke, him finding nothing funny, as usual.

“You think you so funny” He warns, but you brush him off again, picking the diaper bag up and handing it to him again, this time forcing it in his hands to keep it there.

“I’m fuckin’ hilarious, nigga. better ask bout me”

Tyrone rolls his eyes.

“…so you really tellin’ me youn miss me?”

You turn and walk away to ignore the man further, side eyeing him as he followed. “Get out my face, Ty”

“Stop playin…so youn miss how I use to beat that pussy till you cry?” He spoke, getting closer to your ear so you could hear every syllable there. See, if this was a year and some change ago, you would have folded yourself in on a couch and put your legs to the sky faster than a pin could drop, but you had a point to prove.

You inched away from him to your kitchen, but he followed behind like a hungry shark that smelled blood.

“Let daddy dig that pussy out again, baby. You know I do it better than any other nigga”

Just with those few words, it had you thinking of flashbacks, your eyes fighting off a roll inwards. You knew the power he held in those boxers, you knew all too well what he was capable of. When Tyrone got to the pussy, he made sure he wasn’t playing no games. The man would even pull your bed from the wall everytime he came over so nobody in your moms house could hear how hard he was beating it up, talking dirty to you like you was a random bitch from the club, and that was your favorite part. That’s how you got into this mess anyway. Stuck with him and a tiny human who stole your face.

✮✮✮✮

Tyrone was definitely a man of threats, but he had never fallen through with any of the non-violent ones till this.

As Tyrone bucked his hips wildly into you, your leg began to quiver in his hold. You had thanked the gods that he had opted to lay you down on your side instead of fucking you standing up like he loved to do. You were sure your legs would have gave out by now if you were upright.

“Imma nut in this pussy, baby. Can daddy nut in this pussy? You want daddy to get you pregnant?”

He asks, and you nodded gladly like a dummy. Whatever the female version of pussy whipped was, you were definitely long past it. Even in that moment, you thought he wasn’t serious about the whole baby thing. He had never talked about one outside of sex, and you honestly thought he was against the entire idea of kids with the way he’d run junebug out of his presence when he’d do normal kid shit. He just didn’t seem serious.

Hell, you knew you weren’t serious about it. What would you do with a baby in this economy? Most importantly, how the fuck were you gonna care for it? You were only 21 and he was 24, had no business being together, but obviously he wasn’t the type to follow rules of any kind, or let you go.

The more he promised to get you pregnant, the harder y’all fucked until you were on top, riding him like there was a prize at the finish line you called an orgasm. Your hands were placed on his thighs behind you and your back was arched in as you spread your legs wide and bounced that ass on him, giving him the perfect opportunity to see himself slip in and out of you.

“Shit…shit! I’m bout to cum!” He shouts while panting, a few groans exiting his mouth.

“Fuuuck! I’m bout to nut, bae!” You heard him announce once again, but that wasn’t what set off alarms in your head, it was when he held you down and continued thrusting upwards into your wetness, making you leak. You whimper and shout, toes curling into the mattress.

“Shit! Lemme get up, Ty!” You tap his hands, trying to get them off of your hips so you could move, but he continues to bounce you with his fingers gripping you tightly, bound to leave a mark. “Tyrone! lemme get up, please!” You shout with urgency, but it had already been too late. By the time you rose up off of his dick, he had been pumping out the last bit of his seed, the small amount just sliding down the shaft of his dick. That’s when you knew you fucked up. Tyrone was a shooter in more ways than one, but when it came to cumming, he was damn near like a loaded gun. You’d have to squeeze your eyes shut when giving him head because he liked to cum on your face, and the first time he did, he almost blinded you with how far he came, literally.

“My god…” You breathed harshly, looking down at his dick begin to soften.

When it was all said and done, you asked him for money for a plan B, but lo and behold, he already had a pill prepared. Right in the glove compartment of his car is where he kept it and gave it to you when he came to see you the next day. But, as the weeks went by, you started to feel like that pill wasn’t much of a plan B, or at least not your “plan B”. It was definitely Tyrone’s though.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and nine of those later, you were popping out a little girl with a full head of hair and features just like yours. If you told somebody you made the baby alone, they’d probably believe you with how much you two looked alike. You were pissed off your entire pregnancy at Tyrone, but that didn’t stop you from loving your baby, you just couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of her either, though the process wasn’t foreign to you. If the “plan B” didn’t take her out, then who says she wasn’t meant to be here? But, with that being said, as you came closer to your due date, you grew farther from Tyrone while he was trying to keep you close, you even moved out of the glen and into a whole ‘nother town over.

He was there through your entire pregnancy, or at least tried when you weren’t trying to kill him for getting into stupid shit and almost dying, but because he was still so supportive and caring for you, checking up on how both you and the baby were doing, you cut him some slack, letting him name the bouncing baby girl. He went with the name ‘Autum’ because you two met in autumn, to your surprise he even remembered that since it had been so long ago.

Fast forward five months later, y’all were still beefing on and off over stupid shit. You would curse him out over scaring away new friends and or lovers, he’d ignore it and continue, working extra hard to make sure all them niggas knew who he was. Oh, Tyrone was on a mission, and he would not be ignored by some lame nigga you wanted to fuck, or ignored by you.

✮✮✮✮

[notreallyzofi]

I have to say this on here because i know you fellow unhinged people won't (and can't) judge me for still thinking about this. But I was doing some deep diving into Silverstone 2022 (it's really more shallow diving, there's not a lot). And there's this gif, by countingstars-17, of max and charles's conversation (which is apparently now kind of lost media because ig the vid was taken down and can't be found anywhere except for those gifs).

Obviously when it surfaced, everyone was trying to figure out what Max was saying, but imo not hard enough because most settled on "What? No way," as the answer.

The "what?" is so animated it's indisputable, but look on this third part of the gif set. That's not an exclamation, it's not a statement, it's clearly a question with how he raises his eyebrows, and with that slight headshake/twitch is also a sign that it's a question. Another problem I have with this is that Max mouthes something (not really enunnciated) before the alleged "no".

So here's a hypothesis: Max is saying "are you okay?". And a fact I've tested: "you okay?" and "no way" are virtually indistinguishable unless you enunciate them very properly. Which, for the most part, people say more of a "youkay?" because the vowels blends together.

So my conclusion here is: we'll never know what he said but i've looked at this GIF for long minutes and I think I'm right. Look at that man's facial expression and tell me he's not asking a question. C'mon. Also I just think "No way!" is moreso a shocked thing to say while in this gif the man looks (at least a little) concerned to me.

I could be wrong, though, I dunno. Is this stupid? I mean writing this long of a post over something that ultimately does not matter is for sure stupid, but damn it, I kinda think I'm right and I want some other opinions.

[izels-writing]

j. potter — tutoring

Pairing: james potter x fem!loner!reader

Summary: james potter is failing potions and you seem to be his only saving grace

Warnings: nothing tbh, i may have based reader off of me a little too much so i apologize for that in advance 😭, also this is kinda all over the place but i hit a writers block and thought this was cute

james potter sat boredly in professor slughorn's office, counting the brinks on the ceiling of the dungeon. he had been waiting for at least fifteen minutes and if he waited one more second in silence, his head would explode.

slughorn, within the next minute, finally entered the office—clearing his throat and sitting in front of james with an air of seriousness. james sat up straighter, waiting for the professor to begin speaking.

"mister potter, we need to seriously talk about your grades in this class," slughorn began. he opened his desk and pulled out many of james' half-assed essays, most of them marked with d's and p's. james groaned quietly, throwing his head back.

"if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were doing it on purpose. but i know you, mister potter," slughorn continued, "i know you've always had a rocky relationship with this subject. what's been going on lately?"

james frowned. "i can't focus, okay? it's like trying to sit through a lesson in the middle of a quidditch match, i'm too...i dunno, distracted?"

slughorn nodded. "i see... have you talk to your parents about this?"

"no, and you can't tell them," james rushed out. "i don't want to worry them, they worry easily,"

slughorn sighed, covering his mouth as he reviewed all of james' essays. he thought for a moment, which only piqued james' curiosity. slughorn glanced between him and the essays, before leaning back in his chair.

"i can arrange you a tutor, one that can help you with this problem..." slughorn finally said. james lit up, hoping and praying it was who he thought it was.

"lily evans?" he asked hopefully.

"no," slughorn replied. james lost slight interest, but nodded anyway. "and if i arrange this for you, i want you to take this seriously..do you understand, mister potter? or else i'll be forced to tell your parents,"

james nodded in agreement. "of course, sir, thank you,"

if james potter was anything, he was respectful. his mother had taught him that much.

"if i may ask, sir, if it's not lily evans—who is it?" he asked curiously.

slughorn smiled warmly. "i'll let you know soon,"

——

you tapped your foot anxiously, glancing at your watch with a frown. you didn't necessarily have anywhere to be, but it sure irked you when someone was late. not to mention, you definitely felt you should've said no when slughorn approached you.

but you were ever the people pleaser.

as you turned to throw your stuff in your bag, you suddenly saw a tall, lean boy throw himself into the seat in front of you. you stopped your actions, looking at the boy in front of you with slightly furrowed eyebrows as he breathed heavily and looked disheveled.

"you're five minutes late," you commented, scanning him over as he tried to adjust himself comfortably.

"i know, i know," james sighed. "i apologize, really, i had no idea how long that other thing would take,"

you tried to be a hard ass, but the boy seemed tired as it was so you softened up a bit. you softened your expression, but not too much that he'd notice, and nodded. "i understand,"

he looked at you shocked, but you ignored his gaze as you pulled out your textbook. additionally, you pulled out a spare parchment and your secret weapon. he did the same, except he pulled out a quill instead of a spare piece of parchment.

"slughorn told me your problems. i understand," you continued. he scoffed.

"you're the smartest in our year, how could you possibly understand?" james asked.

you blinked at him. "because, i happen to have the same problem. now, i'm not sure if you have trouble focusing in general or if you just suck at potions, what i do know is that i can help—unless you don't want me to and slughorn will be forced to tell your parents..."

james looked at you in disbelief. "he told you?!"

madam pince shushed him from the other side of the library and he sunk slightly in his chair. you nodded, keeping your gaze on him.

"he did, to let me know how high the stakes were for you," you replied. suddenly you placed two metal marbles on the table in front of james, to which he raised his eyebrows at. he glanced between you and the marbles confused.

you nodded toward the marbles, "well? pick them up..."

he reluctantly picked them up, watching you as you pulled out your own set. you opened your textbook and his to the same pages, before looking at him again.

"this won't fix the problem," you explained, "but it may help. your problem is lack of concentration right? you feel like you have to be moving while sitting in that chair, like you cannot keep your mind on one thing?"

james stared at you and nodded. he had never heard someone describe it well for him, and he wasn't much a man of words so to speak. "yeah, sorta like that, i suppose,"

you nodded. "good, we may be dealing with the same problem then," you picked up your set of the metal marbles and began moving them in that hand. they clinked together and made a satisfying sound as you kept going with the motion in your hand. "do what i'm doing and hold that same hand under the table—but do not stop moving your hand and the marbles,"

he obliged, following your exact instructions. thankfully, the noise wasn't so loud that it distracted anyone else in the library—it wasn't so much as noticeable to others either.

"now, we'll read the textbook, do some notes, i'll help you write your essay and we'll see if it's easier for you, sound good?" you asked.

"yeah, yeah, sounds great," james replied quickly, a small smile blooming on his face. you didn't seem so amused, but to be fair, james wasn't sure he'd ever seen you amused.

"great! any questions?" you asked, before you started.

he nodded. "yeah, sorta. why did you agree to help me?"

it wasn't necessarily an out of the blue question. for as long as you and james had known each other (and that was used lightly), he'd never really seen you around anybody. you avoided people it seemed. you seemed to find comfort in solitude, always studying alone, eating alone, walking alone—not that you ever seemed upset about it. sure, you had friends here and there, but no one permanent. you never seemed to care much for it, you came here for academics, that's all it seemed.

moreover, he'd never really seen you display big bouts of emotion. maybe a smile or chuckle here or there, but rarely. he'd never seen you cry or laugh aloud, he'd never seen you do a lot of things. maybe you did, maybe he just didn't pay attention enough. nonetheless, he was a bit curious. you seemed to avoid everyone, him especially.

you knew the question was coming. you knew why too. it was because you weren't very social and you were often irritated. you never hung around anyone and you certainly never joined parties or quidditch games. it was difficult for you, you struggled with showing emotions and socializing with others. you couldn't control it and you certainly couldn't help it, and no one really seemed to stick around to figure you out. but that was fine, you supposed anyway.

it certainly was not fine, despite trying to convince yourself. it was a lonely way to live and your family was worried, despite them not admitting it. you just buried the lonely feelings, hoping that maybe it'd change one day.

"how do you mean?" you asked. what if you were just a nice person? would he even accept that answer?

"i mean, what's in it for you? surely you have better things to do than tutor me," james quickly said, likely thinking carefully about what he was saying because truthfully, you both knew that no, in fact, you didn't.

"nothings in it for me," you replied, shaking your head. "i just decided to help, i guess. is there something wrong with that?"

you weren't trying to be hostile. you were genuinely curious.

"no," he replied. "there isn't,"

"good, now let's start," you said, offering a small smile.

——

weeks had passed, tutoring session after tutoring session passed by quickly. you and james met on tuesday afternoons and thursday afternoons. you began to enjoy his company, even if you knew he was being forced to attend. unbeknownst to you, he quite enjoyed the sessions as well, even looking forward to them each week.

you had both figured out how to best figure out james' lack of attention span in potions and he begun to get better grades, but nonetheless you both agreed to keep the tutoring sessions going—to 'keep his grades up'.

james sighed, closing his textbook and placing the metal marbles you had gifted him on the table. "can we take a break? if i read one more word, i'll throw up on the table," he whined.

"dramatic," you replied, "but okay, ten minutes,"

"you and i should get a snack, recharge our brains," james suggested cheekily, hoping you'd say yes.

"yeah, no thanks, i don't trust that stupid smile on your face," you replied.

"you'd think after all our time together that you’d trust me by now,” james sighed, shaking his head in feign disappointment. “so untrusting, n/n,”

“n/n?” you questioned.

“my nickname for you, you like it?” he grinned.

you chuckled, smiling as you rolled you eyes at him. “okay, whatever…”

james grinned, “oh! do i get points for making wednesday addams laugh?”

you dropped your smile and glared at him, rolling your eyes playfully again. he huffed, “geez…sorry…”

“go get your snack and then come back, we’ll pick out some other potion books for review, sound good?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. he grinned again, nodding like an excited little kid. you snorted and waved him off, fighting and failing to hide your smile as he rushed out of the library.

within twenty minutes he was back, following you as you put books back and grabbed new ones. you and him were chatting quietly, as you walked down the aisles, mainly focusing your attention on the books you were looking for. however, you paid close attention to the subject, given it was a topic he brought up often: why you were so uptight about your studies.

“well, potter—“ you began sternly.

“hey, i gave you a nickname! where’s mine?” he asked with a dramatized frown. you rolled your eyes playfully, hiding your slight amusement.

“as i was saying, potter, i’m uptight because i like to be prepared. frankly, i hope you pass your o.w.l’s because given how unprepared you are, i am praying for the best,” you replied sarcastically, noticing as he smiled at your joke.

he always seemed to understand your jokes.

“our o.w.l’s aren’t for another eight months,” he replied, getting a book from a high shelf as you tried to reach it to no avail. he handed it to you.

“exactly! you need to study for them now! you need to prepare!” you replied, putting a book back as you spoke.

“you are so uptight,” he chuckled. “some things you just need to…go with the flow. expecting the unexpected is no fun,”

you turned suddenly, smacking a book to his chest, thinking he’d grab it before it hit him. you laughed aloud, covering your mouth to muffle it, and he smiled back mockingly.

“how’s that for expecting the unexpected?” you grinned.

“shove off, n/n,” he scoffed. “you’re so corny,”

“and prepared,” you added, swiftly turning around to keep walking.

unbeknownst to you, james smiled at you genuinely while you were turned, your genuine laugh echoing in his head. he’d certainly make more jokes just to hear it again.

——

“well, this is our last session before break,” you smiled. “think you’ll be able to handle life without me for two weeks?” you joked.

“i think i can manage,” he teased back. you rolled your eyes, allowing a smile to grow on your face.

he smiled, pulling some out of his school bag swiftly. “actually, i wanted to give you something before we left, to thank you and for christmas,” he said kindly.

you furrowed your eyebrows. “you didn’t have to get me anything, potter,”

he rolled his eyes. “i wanted to, alright? and now you have to accept it,” he smiled. he slid over the small box toward you. it was wrapped in cute christmas wrapping paper, tied with a sting into a small box.

you took it gingerly in your hands, opening it carefully. you carefully tore the wrapping off and opened the small navy blue box. as you opened it, you held back your gasp as you took in the sight.

it was a beautiful silver bracelet, with butterflies placed in between the chains. the stones that filled in the butterflies were a beautiful pink color and it shined beautifully.

“james…” you gaped. “i don’t know what to say, thank you..” you smiled, pulling it out of the box and handing it to him. “will you clip it on me?”

he nodded and obliged, taking notice to how your eyes never left the beautiful bracelet. you looked up at him, tension filling the air as you watched him slowly clipping the bracelet onto your wrist. he smiled as your eyes connected, and for a second, you felt your stomach get all jittery.

“i’ll mail you a gift, seriously, this is beautiful,” you smiled. “thank you..so so much,”

somehow, it was very easy to smile around james potter.

“you don’t have to mail me anything,” james replied.

“oh please let me,” you pleaded, “i’ll feel so bad if i don’t,”

he smiled, “fine, alright, if it’ll help you sleep better at night,”

you grinned excitedly and pulled out a piece of parchment so he could write his address for you. he did it quickly, handing it back to you promptly.

——

you hadn’t been quite sure what to gift a boy who had everything he’d ever wanted. sure, you could get him something quidditch related, but it didn’t seem personal enough. you had wanted to give him something meaningful and sentimental.

you racked your brain for hours, trying to find the perfect gift. eventually, you settled with new quidditch gloves but even then, that still felt impersonal. so, you had begun to think back to every interaction the two of you had shared and landed on the perfect addition to his quidditch gloves.

you wasn’t quite sure how you had landed on the subject but you two had, so you scoffed and leaned back in your chair.

“fine then, what’d be your wish come true?” you asked james.

“to see you make a different facial expression?” james suggested. you swatted his arm quickly, making him retract it. “ow! i’m serious! sorry, but talking to the same facial expression every tuesday and thursday is scary! it wouldn’t exactly wound me to see you smile every once in a while…”

a different facial expression.

you quickly grabbed the family polaroid and enlisted your sibling to help you take the perfect picture of you smiling. once you were satisfied, you packaged it with his other gift and wrote a little note, explaining both gifts to him.

and that left you where you were now, back in the library with james, studying out of your potions textbooks. you noticed him pull it out and open the page quickly, as he had stuck something in between the pages.

you looked at intensely, trying to figure out what it was. then you quickly recognized it.

“is that me?” you blurred before you could stop yourself.

james looked down at whatever you were looking at and blushed, though he hid it well. “yeah, one of my gifts remember? you remind me of potions class, so, i use it as a bookmark,” he replied casually.

unbeknownst to you, he just really loved staring at the photo. you had a beautiful smile and it was a shame you didn’t show it more often.

you smiled warmly. “oh okay…”

“lovely bookmark, isn’t it?” james smiled, admiring the photo. he hadn’t meant to flirt, but he wasn’t exactly regretting it.

you chuckled. “i suppose so…”

bonus;

“daddy, how’d you know you liked mommy?” you seven year-old daughter, alison, asked as you set dinner table. it was james’ turn to cook tonight, so he held your toddler on the counter by him as he pulled dinner out of the oven.

you and james glanced at each other, smiling at her innocent yet curious questions. you stood there, watching as james turned to your daughter with a smile.

“well… i remember when i saw your mommy laugh for the first time,” james said honestly. “i instantly fell in love, i knew i’d marry her some day… i wanted to hear her laugh for the rest of my life,”

alison smiled. “mommy, what about you? how did you know you liked daddy?”

“well,” you recounted, “i remember every time i spoke to him, i smiled all the time. i was so happy around him and i knew i’d always be happy around him,”

alison nodded, smiling. “that’s cute! i hope i will know when i like someone!”

you looked at james, smiling as he ruffled your daughters hair, and like always, you felt your heart flutter at the sight of him. you felt like everything in the world was okay.

you looked back at your daughter with a smile. “trust me, sweetness, you’ll know.”

[sipsteainanxiety]

rotten to the core || bkg k.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 4k

mentions: no pronouns i blv, pro hero bkg, aged-up chars (24+), meet cute(?), slight fear of heights, bkg being a dick but what else is new, ur kinda used as a scapegoat for him, part of the meet fruit collab hosted by @willowser !! check out the other fics posted!! & ty to my friends who helped me brainstorm a title LOL (kissa u will!)

🍎 in which you get stuck in an apple tree... and have to get help from a certain pro-hero to get down 🍎

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have taken your walk today. 

It was just—perfect weather, though. The first wink of sunshine that’d blessed the earth after a week of non stop rain. The air was cool and crisp with the gentle grip of Autumn, vibrant leaves colored in all shades of tangerine, burnt red, and daffodil yellow lining the trees and roads. You had to get out and stretch your legs after wallowing miserably at your window, confined to your little apartment for what felt like forever. 

Your skin basked happily in the soft caress of the sun as you walked down a bricked path through one of the parks in your neighborhood. It was a delight to venture through since it was nice and tranquil—able to leave you to your thoughts as you watched the way light filtered happily through the canopies above you. Occasionally you’d see another pedestrian walking in the distance, but they hardly ever bothered you. 

A sigh left your lips as you stretched your arm out and glanced at the watch on your wrist. You never brought your phone with you when you went on these little outings. You didn’t really need it, after all, and all the notifications you’d get would only serve as a distraction when you were supposed to be clearing your mind and enjoying the bumbling outside environment for once in your technology-infused life. 

It was just after three in the afternoon. Nice. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket and continued on. Maybe you could stop by one of the café’s on your block for a warm drink later. A motivating thought. 

As the path took you past a small, open field, you noticed a group of children loitering around one of the trees lining its perimeter. They were loud as they chattered and argued with each other, pointing up at the tree’s branches and making attempts to climb it to no avail. You’d fully intended to walk by, sparing them not much more than a curious glance, but one of the kids had spotted you and started loudly shouting and waving his arms. 

“Hey! You!” he called across the field, and you paused for a moment and looked around before pointing at yourself in confusion. Was he talking to you? “Yeah! C’mere!” Apparently he was. 

You slowly made your way over, wondering what the kid could possibly want with you. His friends all turned to look at you curiously as you approached. A few lingered at the base of the tree they’d been attempting to climb. Suddenly, you had a little audience and you weren’t quite sure what to do. 

“...Yes?” you eventually asked to break the silence. “What’s up?” 

“You’re tall,” the kid pointed out bluntly. You blinked down at him owlishly. To him maybe you were, but you weren’t going to say anything. “Can you get those apples for us?” He pointed up at the tree—your gaze following—and you realized they’d been attempting to pick the small, honey-crisp fruit that was way out of the reach of their tiny limbs. 

There was only one problem. “I can’t reach those either. They’re too high up,” you told him with a frown.  

He made a face at you, but before he could say anything, one of his friends piped up. “You can climb, can’t you? Please! We’re trying to fill this basket.” A weaved basket was held out in their arms, a few apples already rolling around in it. They all looked up at you in anticipation—nearly half a dozen little faces with hope glistening in their eyes. 

You hesitated. This was not what you had expected to be doing on your little walk.  “I dunno—” 

“Please! Pretty please!” You were almost immediately interrupted as they all started begging you at once, a chorus echoing in your eyes. A few small hands reached out to tug at the bottom of your jacket. You were frozen, the weight of their tiny expectations weighing heavily on your shoulders. “Please! With a cherry on top?” 

“Okay! Okay,” you acquiesced as you side-stepped towards the tree, your hands raised up as though in surrender. They were persistent, and you doubted they’d give up even if you’d said no. They all immediately started cheering as you trudged your way over to the apple tree, a grumble under your breath. This was fine. You would get them their apples and then continue on your path. Maybe you’ll get a drink and a pastry at that café later, you thought to yourself. 

You stopped at the base of the tree and eyed the trunk for a second. A quick glance behind you showed that the kids had followed you, surrounding your figure in a half circle as they eagerly waited. You didn’t know why they thought you would be able to climb the tree to get the fruit when they’d obviously been failing at it before, but you supposed that was them placing you—an adult—on a more capable pedestal than them—little kids. You sighed again and started the arduous task of climbing your way up to the first thick branch you could see. 

The tree’s bark was rough under the soft skin of your palms. Your feet braced themselves against the trunk as you used the strength of your legs to push yourself up. Your hands gripped onto the branch and you pulled yourself on top of it carefully, ensuring that it could hold your weight. It could. This branch—and the ones surrounding it—was bare of any apples, unfortunately, so you’d have to go higher. You huffed slightly as you stood on the branch—knees bent to help with your balance—and climbed your way to the next sturdy branch using the smaller ones around you.

It took you longer than you’d like to admit, but eventually you plopped yourself down on a higher branch and wiped the sweat from your forehead. You could hear the kids yelling encouragingly at you from below, telling you to Go higher! The good apples are higher! You rolled your eyes and looked around. They could make do with what you could get now.

It was kind of nice sitting in a tree. The leaves around you were mostly green, though you could see many of them starting to dip into a yellow color with the Autumn weather. There were a few ripe apples on a branch to your right that you could easily reach without having to move too much. You picked them easily and looked down so you could find the kid holding the weaved basket. 

“Catch!” you called as you dropped the apples one by one. There was a flurry of motion from all the kids as they scrambled to move the basket up to catch the fruit before it could hit the ground. They sounded delighted and a small smile lingered on your lips as you watched them. 

“More! More!” they chanted once you’d tossed down all the apples you could reach around you. Guess you really did need to go higher, then. Unfortunate. 

Up and up and up you went, adhering to the whims of the children who watched you safely from the grassy ground. You picked more apples and dropped them carefully to the earth. Until finally, finally, their basket was full to the brim. 

“Thanks stranger!” the original kid who’d caught your attention called up, his friends already rushing away as they giggled and laughed. He waved up at you, a bright smile on his face, and you thought to yourself that maybe helping them out had been worth it. “You’re the best!” And with that he ran off, hollering at his friends to wait for him. 

You watched him go, then sighed wearily. At least you’d gotten some sort of workout in. Already your arms were starting to ache from hoisting yourself up the tree. You stretched them out, then moved so you could start to lower yourself to the hand holder branch below you. 

The moment your foot placed weight on it, however, it let out a sharp snap! 

Something in your gut dropped. You yelped and scrambled back on top of the branch you’d been sitting on, your foot having met nothing but air. Your heart pounded a steady beat in your ears as you sat solidly on the branch and looked down. The branch had broken and the next one for you to put your weight on was too far away. Shit. You swallowed heavily and found yourself looking at the ground. It seemed… awfully far away. And now that you were staring—realizing just how high up in the tree you were—you noticed there was this odd feeling in your stomach that only got stronger the longer you looked. Your jaw tensed and you forced yourself to bring your gaze to the tree trunk in front of you as you slowly moved to straddle the branch. A better position in case you… fell. 

You took a moment to just calm yourself down. Damn it. Were you really stuck in a fucking apple tree? You chanced another look down and felt a bit lightheaded once more at the height. You guessed you were. You never should’ve taken that goddamn walk. You breathed in deeply, then exhaled it all in a loud sigh. No, no way you were going to be stuck here for who-knows-how-long. You needed to get it together and just climb down. Like a normal person. 

You peeked around you, looking for any other branches you could use to climb down. But there were none—none that were within reach, that is, or that could hold your weight long enough for you to get to the next sturdy branch. Fuck, had that one branch really been the only one? Just your luck. Climbing up a tree was one thing, but climbing down? It was terrifying. 

Maybe you could call someone for help? But no, you realized with a curse, that wouldn’t work. You didn’t have your fucking phone. You slapped a hand against your face in agony and mentally shook your fist at your past self. Well, you never would’ve expected something like this to happen, so maybe you should cut past-you some slack. Still, you think this is a sign to start bringing your phone with you on your walks, technology-cleansing be damned. 

You slumped forward and resigned yourself to being stuck until you could call out to a passerby for help. There was bound to be someone walking the paths through the park—even though it was a rather… lonely place. It was only the afternoon, though. You could wait. 

…

You were going to die up here.

Forget the café, you grumbled to yourself as you wearily held your head in your hands. An hour had gone by with no one in sight and you were slowly losing hope with each minute that ticked by. You were going to need a strong ass drink after this. 

You sighed and reached above you to pick one of the honey-crisp apples innocently hanging from a branch. At least you wouldn’t go hungry while waiting. You glared down at the apple, its skin gleaming slightly with the golden sunlight that winked at you from the West. This is all your fault, you thought unhappily. You huffed and bit into the apple, the juicy sweetness of its flesh flooding your mouth and dribbling down your chin. You hoped those kids were enjoying their basket of apples. 

Actually, it tasted rather good. Crisp and honeyed—fitting for its name. You reached up to grab another apple and stuffed it into the pocket of your jacket. Might as well take one home. At least you’d gain something out of this venture. 

A movement caught your eye. You looked up from the apple in your hand and immediately spotted someone making their way down the path you’d been on not so long ago. It was a kid, from what you could see, holding a ball in her hand that she bounced occasionally. Your heart seemed to soar in hope. You swallowed the bite of the apple down so quickly that you nearly choked and raspily called out to her as loudly as you could. “Hey! Kid with the ball!” Your voice almost seemed to echo across the little field. 

She paused and looked around curiously. You tried again. “Over here! By the trees!”

Once she’d turned in your general direction, you waved your hands and—after realizing she wasn’t looking up—shook the nearest branch to you so that the leaves would flutter around with a rustle. It worked. She slowly approached, clutching onto her ball, until she was standing at the base of the apple tree and looking right up at you. “...Whatcha doin’ up there, stranger?” 

“I got stuck,” you confessed to her, the hand not holding onto your half-eaten apple gripping tightly onto the branch you were sitting on. You dared to feel just the brief twinges of relief. “Listen to me. Can you go get help? Any help, really. The fire department, a hero, a construction man with a ladder. I can’t get down and I’ve been up here for hours.” 

The kid cocked her head at you and blinked, her weight shifting onto one leg like she was waiting impatiently at a bus stop. “And what’s in it for me if I do?” 

What the— Were all kids like this? You tried not to let exasperation bleed into your voice. “Don’t you wanna be a hero or something? Please help me.” You were not above begging. 

“I wanna be a doctor,” she told you smartly instead. Good, great. Could she hurry up and go already? You were starting to lose feeling in your legs. 

Your teeth gritted together, but you let the frustration building up inside you fade away. She was just a kid; she didn’t truly know about your circumstances, though you’d practically spilled everything to her just a second ago. You licked at your lips and heaved a sigh. “Doctors are heroes too, you know,” you told her. She only looked expectantly up at you and you grumbled a little before reaching out to pick another apple. “Okay, fine. Catch.” 

You dropped the apple down. She caught it in a small hand and looked closely at it for what felt like a long time. She held up a finger. “One more.” 

This kid was really testing your patience. You rolled your eyes and grabbed another apple to drop down. She caught it again, and after a small nod to herself, started walking away. “Be back soon.” 

Oh thank god. You felt like crying from sheer relief. You watched her disappear down the path and slumped forward, bringing your apple up to your mouth so you could take another bite. And now to wait some more. You tried swinging your legs around a bit to regain some feeling back in them. Hopefully she wouldn’t leave you out to dry. You grumbled to yourself as you finished off your apple and chucked the core as far as you could out into the field—an oddly satisfying action. It’ll decompose eventually. 

You didn't know how much time passed as you waited for the kid to bring help. It was all a blur, honestly, broken up occasionally by you checking the watch on your wrist and not really processing the time on it. But eventually, as you found yourself boredly counting the number of fully green leaves on a branch to your left, you heard someone call up to you in a gruff voice. 

“Hey! You the dumbass who got stuck in a tree?”  

You looked down and made eye contact with what appeared to be a pro-hero. He had ruffled ash-blond hair that stuck up around the black mask over his eyes. Arms crossed over his chest as he glared up at you with glinting carmine eyes that reminded you of the apples surrounding you. A quick glance to the park’s path showed the kid with her ball, waving a hand at you before she disappeared out of your line of sight. 

Aw hell, you thought as you recognized the hero’s costume of orange, black, and green. She’d brought fucking Dynamight—a hero known for his short temper. What were the chances of something like that happening? He must’ve been on patrol in the area. 

“...What's it to ya?” you grumbled down at him, wishing you could conflagrate on the spot to avoid this embarrassing encounter. Just suck it up, you told yourself. You needed to get home, and the only way you were going to do that was by letting this hero get you down. Man, you’d really hit an all new low, hadn’t you?

“Right.” He scowled up at you and you wondered why he looked so angry. Maybe that was his default face. “I’ll jus’ leave, then, since ya don’t need my help—” 

“Wait no! Nonono!” you called out only just a little bit desperately as he made a move as though to turn around. “I’ve been stuck here for hours, man! If I don’t get down I think I might die.” 

Dynamight rolled his eyes and uncrossed his thick arms as he looked back up at you critically. “Yeah, yeah. Gimme a sec’.” 

You watched as he seemed to grumble to himself for a moment, then positioned his arms with his palms pointing towards the ground and tensed his legs. You blinked at him. Was he going to—

‘BOOOOM’

You yelped and nearly toppled right off your branch at the sudden explosion that erupted below you like a miniature volcano. Dynamight shot up into the air, a plume of smoke in his wake, and grabbed onto a branch that could support his weight. Then he set off another smaller explosion to propel himself up further, jumping from branch to branch until he finally landed next to you. Or rather, behind you, with the way you were sitting on your own branch. 

You twisted your head back to look at him. He hardly seemed out of breath, and you were a bit impressed at his parkour skills. “Uh. Hi.” 

“Shut it,” he groused. Without even a warning, he grabbed you around your torso. You yelped as he tucked you close to his body—the warmth that radiated from him that was a comfort in the chilly Autumn air, not that you’d admit that out loud—and promptly leapt off the branch. You had to swallow down a scream, your hands holding onto the singular arm wrapped tightly around your body for dear life as he used his other one to set off an explosion to offset his fall. 

You both landed on the ground with a gentle thump and he immediately let go of you so you could stumble forward. Sweet Earth, how I’ve missed you so. Your heart raced in your chest—from the jump or from his unrelenting grip, you would never know—your hands moving to brush your windswept hair away from your face. What the hell, he really didn’t hesitate. Could’ve grabbed you a bit gentler, though, you frowned as you rubbed your chest. You were probably going to bruise later.

You turned around to face him, fixing your rumpled clothes in the meanwhile. He was much taller than you now that you were both on the ground, all muscle and attitude as he glared at you like you’d just spat in his dinner. You paused. “...I was gonna say thanks, but you look like you wanna kill me.” 

“Don’t get stuck in a fuckin’ tree, then,” he snapped. You recoiled slightly at his words, then frowned up at him in offense. 

“Excuse me?” You placed your hands on your hips, incredulous with his behavior. “Like I had wanted to get stuck up there in the first place! For hours, might I add!” 

His jaw tensed like he was going to retort, but he scoffed instead and turned around to start storming over to the bricked path. “Whatever.” You gaped at his back and jogged after him. He was going in the same direction as you anyways, might as well figure out why he was being such a dick. Weren’t heroes supposed to be, you know, nice?

Though, you supposed you were dealing with Dynamight, after all. You’re not sure if he had a single nice bone in his body. 

“No! Not ‘Whatever’,” you mimicked his gruff voice as best as you could once you’d caught up to him and kept pace with his long strides. The thick soles of his boots stomped against the ground with each of his steps. He shot you an annoyed look out of the corner of his eyes, but didn’t say anything. “Who pissed in your bed? Huh?” 

You could practically hear his teeth gritting together before he responded. “Nunya business.”

Maybe it wasn’t, but it really didn’t excuse him treating you like this. “No, tell me why you’re being such an asshole right now. Aren’t heroes supposed to be not-assholes?” 

He turned his head to give you a withering glare with carmine eyes that appeared nearly aflame in the sun’s golden light. It almost made you regret pressing in the first place, but you had at least some self-respect, and you weren’t going to let this guy walk all over you like this. 

“‘M a fuckin’ hero, yeah,” he eventually hissed. “Supposed to be fightin’ villains ‘nd not dealing with dumbass extras who’ve gotten stuck in trees.” 

You huffed at his response. Okay, maybe—just maybe—you could see why he was so aggravated. Didn’t let him off the hook, though. “Okay, first of all, ouch. Second of all, you’re a hero because you’re supposed to help people.” He opened his mouth to snap back at you, but you were too quick and cut across him. “Whatever. Look. I’m sorry you didn’t expect to be spending your afternoon helping me out of a tree. I didn’t expect to spend it stuck up there either. I appreciate the help, for what it’s worth. You saved me from a very uncomfortable night.” Even if he was being the biggest dickhead on the planet right now. Maybe he had a rough day, who knew. You decided to be the bigger person about this whole… situation.

Dynamight stared at you for what felt like a long, long time. It made you realize that you’d both stopped by one of the entrances of the park, just outside of it along the desolate sidewalk. You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets as you waited for him to say something—anything, really—and almost startled when you felt the cool skin of the honey-crisp apple you’d picked come into contact with your fingers. You wrapped them around it. 

Eventually, he closed his eyes and let out a deep, deep sigh. Tension that you hadn’t realized was present along his shoulders seemed to melt away as they slumped slightly down. He sniffed and jutted his head out to the side slightly, sunlight painting smooth planes across his face and turning his hair into a pale blond in a way that was honestly pretty gorgeous. You’d take that admission to your grave. 

“...Yeah.” And then he added a mumbled “Sorry” under his breath that you figured was the best you were going to get at the moment. He didn’t seem like someone who apologized often, from what you knew about him. “Rough day.” 

“I figured,” you said lightly. Then, you brought your hand out of your jacket and grabbed his own gloved one to place the apple you had within his palm. You patted it gently. “Here. As a thank you.” Then, after just a quick moment of hesitation, you added, “Hope all goes well for you.” 

And with a small nod at him, you turned around and started to make your way back home, hands in your pockets and an eagerness to your steps at the prospect of getting to rest after what felt like a very long day. 

Dynamight stood there, at the entrance of the park, and looked down at the small apple within his hand after he stared at your retreating back for a few moments. His lips twitched for a slight second and he turned to head down the street in the opposite direction as you, his hand bringing the apple up to his mouth so he could bite into it with a crisp, sweet crunch.

[spenglersweetheart]

I have idea

Egon isn’t one for falling in love easily in his mind there has to be a bond, friendship bond, trust etc, what if one day after a mission with reader ( rookie ) he helps them with the filing of the samples collected and they crack a really good science joke and before he can stop himself he snort laughs.

Ever since whenever Egons in a bad mood reader tells a science joke

oh, this is actually so cute !! i love it 🥹

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

Anything to Make You Smile

Egon Spengler x Reader

WARNINGS : none!

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

YOU DIDN'T MIND FILING THE SAMPLES WITH Egon. In fact, you much preferred it over making the bust. Though, that part was always fun, too. You had gotten along with all your new coworkers. Well, at least, almost all of them. Egon Spengler was a hard one to crack. The others told you about his seriousness. Which you didn't mind, it's what helps him stay dedicated to his work, and you honestly admired that.

When you guys came back from the most recent job, you and Egon pretty much immediately rushed over to the laboratory so you two can start with the samples. It was honestly your favorite part of the day. But, you noticed that something was off about Egon.

You knew he wasn't the one for emotions, as they are not really easy for him. But you wanted to get close to him. It may be because you were starting to gain somewhat of a little crush on him. But ... No one needed to know that. Not just yet, at least. Today, though, he was a bit off. He's not known to be a talker. Maybe that was just around you, but he looked a little more sad than usual.

You walk over to him when you file one of your last samples. You watch him carefully, before looking up at him to speak.

"You okay?" You finally get the courage to ask.

He only gives you a hum of approval, which wasn't really normal for him. It makes you raise a brow in interest.

He starts to walk away, you immediately follow right after him like you're some lost puppy. You tried not to make a habit of that, as it could possibly annoy him. You thought for a moment, before an idea finally pops into your head.

"Hey, Egon, did you hear about the chemist who threw sodium chloride at his taxi driver?" You question.

Egon rose a brow in interest and in slight concern. "I have not," he answered, "Are they okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah, they're alright. The police caught the guy. They ruled it as a salt."

Egon looks at you, a chuckle falling from his lips, it eventually turns into a laugh, letting out a snort. Seeing him like that makes you smile wide.

"How did you come up with that so quickly?" Egon asked.

You gave a shrug. "I dunno. I always had a knack for science related jokes," you answer, "I've got a ton of other ones if you want them."

"If you're sure," Egon says, "I could use another one."

"Alright, so a neutron walks into a bar, right?"

Egon gives a nod. "Yeah?"

"He asks how much for a beer. The bartender replied, 'For you? No charge.'"

It's another corny science joke that makes Egon laugh. You were happy that someone appreciated your science related jokes like you did.

"I saw you were feeling a little down. I just wanted to see you smile for a change," you tell him.

"Well, it certainly worked," Egon responds, "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem. Anything to make you smile," you say back to him.

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

── ♡ ( AUTHOR'S NOTE! ) :

not my best work i don't think bc i am Tired™ but i really hope you like it! i tried my best.

[frozenjokes]

An Exercise In Wishful Thinking

a fic about HotGuy, and his pathetic little (MASSIVE) crush on an ordinary guy, an ordinary guy who kind of couldn’t give less of a shit if he tried.

Scar’s face smashed against the pavement, his visor splintering against his head and pinching the bridge of his nose as momentum carried him rolling forward, toppling like a ragdoll across the top of the small apartment building. He groaned, disoriented as he finally landed on his back, but CuteGuy’s boot against his stomach forcibly pushed the noise out, leaving Scar wheezing.

“You’re off your game today, HotGuy,” CuteGuy sneered, sharp teeth visible just below his mask, though it wasn’t a shocking thing, sharp teeth, practically everyone had some kind of fangs, and really, it was a bit boring; if Scar was meant to be intimidated, he certainly wasn’t, “Something the matter?” CuteGuy cut through his thoughts, which was rather rude, Scar wasn’t done thinking badly about him yet, but, “We all have bad days. How about you take a day off, get some rest, nap a bit, and leave me alone for once, hm?” Cuteguy pushed again against Scar’s stomach, using more force, enough to shove his entire body back. Scar was only aware of how close he was to the edge of the building when his head hung over the side, half limp. Hm. Not great.

Scar raised his hands, shaky from the strain, “Well, since you asked, I guess, yeah, I’m not really feeling too great. I dunno. It’s just hard to be adored and famous all the time, you know? Life’s starting to feel less like fun and more like business, brand deals, work, work, work. I just feel like I don’t have many friends, y’know? Real friends, god forbid, human friends. Hardly a human even lives in this dumb city anymore, too dangerous, too many assholes with wings enacting petty revenge on their landlords from like ten years ago. I-”

“Shut up, I don’t care.”

“You asked! And while we’re on the subject of things you did, I was minding my own business up here before you attacked me! You can’t tell me to leave you alone if you started it!” Scar would have said more, but CuteGuy pressed his boot harder into his stomach, almost stomping, just without the wind up.

“You were looking for me. Thought I’d just send you home on my terms before you decided to become a problem.”

Scar’s head lolled a bit more off the edge of the building, eyes squeezed shut, “I’m not always looking for trouble,” he wheezed, managing to open his eyes just in time to catch a sight of what he’d actually been looking for tonight, just a glance being enough to restore the air back into his lungs. Not tearing his eyes away, he pushed against CuteGuy’s leg, admittedly, a little pathetically, but his priorities were elsewhere, “Pause, pause. Off.”

“Pause?” CuteGuy squawked, bird-like as he tended to get when he was particularly surprised, “What do you mean pause, this isn’t a game you-” HotGuy gathered all the strength he had left tonight to grip CuteGuy’s boot, heaving up and unbalancing him while he was distracted, then rolling away and stumbling to his feet.

“I have to go! Emergency! We wrap this up tomorrow?” Scar hurried over to where he’d dropped his bow when CuteGuy ambushed him, then back to the building’s edge, bouncing in place on his andriod legs.

CuteGuy hissed, and Scar wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen CuteGuy’s feathers so puffed out; even the bits of his face that weren’t covered by a mask were beet-red, “You are not seriously just going to leave! I’m not done with you!” CuteGuy lunged forward, but Scar’s arrow was nocked just as fast, the shot just barely grazing one of CuteGuy’s wings as he awkwardly sidestepped to avoid it. Scar was over the edge before CuteGuy could recover, rolling as he hit the pavement, then running down the street.

The civilian didn’t seem to hear him coming, or any of the other commotion for that matter, clearly oblivious to the danger so close by. It was a good thing that CuteGuy had never been slighted by this particular civilian, or he’d surely be dead by now, walking so carelessly by himself by night. Thank goodness HotGuy was here!

“Cub! Cub!” Scar called, still running, but Cub did not respond, the wires of his earbuds dangling loosely from his ears. Ah. Classic. Cub was fiddling with his phone, brows furrowed as he held it up toward a street sign- taking a picture, maybe?

“Hello! Sir!” Scar called as he got closer, and mercifully, Cub seemed to hear, taking out one of his earbuds and turning around. “Hello!” Scar said again, feeling his heart flutter, though, now was not the time.

Cub looked a little nervous; reasonable, anyone might be intimidated by a superhero running their way. “Hey, man, what’s up?” ‘Man’ Oh, Scar adored how Cub addressed him, so casual, so familiar. It was exciting to be ‘man,’ like he was a friend, oh, could they be friends?

“Hello there! I thought I should warn you, there is a very angry supervillain out and about right now, so we should probably be running in the other direction!” Scar kept a light tone as not to frighten Cub, though the other’s demeanor hardly changed.

“Oh, which one?”

Scar couldn’t help but stumble over his feet and words in his surprise at that question, which was apparently more emotion than Cub felt at being told he could be dead in the next couple minutes if they weren’t careful (though, of course, Scar would never allow this to happen). “Uhm- CuteGuy.”

“CuteGuy..” Cub furrowed his brow in thought, a bit of a distractingly adorable look if Scar was being honest.. hm.. something was different about Cub’s face today. Actually, something was definitely off. Had he gotten a haircut? Scar jumped when Cub spoke again, “Don’t think I’ve wronged any short blonde avians in the past week. I tend to try not to, so I think I’ll be alright.” Cub kept walking. Scar gaped.

“I- well I- I mean CuteGuy doesn’t exactly like me very much, so we may still have a bit of a problem.” Scar had to jog to catch up, unable to hide the strain in his voice.

“Oh man, well, good luck then. Sorry ‘bout that,” Cub glanced back, and didn’t look entirely too thrilled to see Scar still following him, which, maybe that was fair. Though, Cub never looked too incredibly thrilled about anything most of the time; Scar had only seen him smile once. It was a delightful thing, Cub’s smile, one Scar was sure he’d never forget. Like, come on, it’s not every day you see someone with flat teeth-

“Hey, could you read that street sign for me?”

Scar blinked, too stunned to do much else but follow Cub’s gaze, “Uh, that's Wright Street.”

“Thanks, man,” Cub said, and then he just kept walking, kept walking like there wasn’t a supervillain just a block away, probably seconds away from being very rude and interrupting all this chemistry!

“Cub,” Scar stressed, “I just think maybe-” but Scar stopped when Cub startled, whipping around to face him with wide eyes.

“Shit- I didn’t- I don’t have my glasses, I dropped them on the,” Cub floundered, and Scar threw up his hands in a placating motion, surprised by the sudden change. Cub squinted, looking a little distressed, and Scar wanted nothing more than to take it all away.

“It’s okay! I don’t mind reading the street signs!”

“I-” Cub struggled, and with him, Scar’s heart ached, “What’s your name, again?” Oh. Oh. Scar stopped short, stuck somewhere between shock and confusion. Was- Was he not in costume or something? Scar looked stupidly at his own clothes, dumbfounded. How bad was Cub’s eyesight?

“I’m HotGuy.”

Cub stared. Scar stared back.

“Oh. That makes sense.” Cub kept walking. Scar struggled to feel normal about that. Well, maybe he was just embarrassed! Everyone dealt with emotions in different ways, and Cub tended to deal with them by not emoting at all! Nothing wrong with that! Sure, they had only met twice, but Scar had been properly embarrassed not recognizing the faces of fans who had spoken with him before- he couldn’t imagine how Cub must be feeling now, especially with HotGuy being as recognizable as he was (even a little bit blurry).

“It’s nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about at all! My face is plastered just about everywhere, but I still look different in person I’m sure, and it's dark out, and you don’t have your glasses, of course.”

“Oh, not that, I was thinking of the CuteGuy thing,” Cub didn’t even look back as he spoke, not harsh per se, but extremely.. Honest. “Lots of people look kinda like you, all colorful and dressed up. I thought you might be cosplaying or something.”

Scar struggled to keep his smile, unable to do much else but stare. Cub wasn’t looking at him anyway. “..Do they now?”

“Yeah.” Cub continued on. Scar was beginning to suspect they did not live in the same city. Maybe not even in the same world. Cub was starting to get a little far, and once Scar remembered to stop gaping, he had to jog again to catch up. Cub seemed a little more confused by his presence, fiddling with his earbuds again (surely he hadn’t turned his music back on, right?) before turning, “You said CuteGuy was close, right? Are you going to.. fight.. him?”

“Oh!” Scar jumped on his toes, “No, probably not again. At least not right now, I hope. I’m guessing if he was going to he already would have- well, actually, I beat him so badly he’s probably still licking his wounds, like, metaphorically. I kind of embarrassed him, there was a crowd and everything.”

“A crowd?” Cub sounded surprised- no, amused when he turned his head. He had a little smile on his face, gosh, what Scar would give just to be able to look at that forever. “Just a block away, right? On this empty, quiet road?” Cub stopped walking, and Scar was so thrilled to have his attention, it took a couple extra moments to process the words he was saying.

“Ah-” Scar felt his face heat up. He ran a hand through his hair, hoping to hide his embarrassment, “Small crowd. Quiet crowd. I mean, you know CuteGuy, if he feels slighted by anyone, he’ll probably get his friend Poultry Man to egg all their houses or something.”

“Oh yeah, petty guy.”

“Extremely so!” Scar lit up, though Cub still didn’t look like he believed a word Scar said. Scar pursed his lips momentarily before continuing, “You know, you could say my glasses are broken too! We’re like, totally on the same page right now. CuteGuy put up quite the fight, well, a little bit. He didn’t put up that much of a fight, but he did smash my visor. Again. Seriously, someone needs to figure out his identity so I can start sending him my bills, I hate replacing stuff.”

Cub cocked his head to the side, and even without the glasses, Scar felt like he was looking right through him. It was vulnerable, in a magical kind of way. “Can I see it?”

Scar startled, missing the question. “What?”

“Can I see your visor? The place I work manufactures this kind of stuff, I might be able to hook you up for something a bit cheaper.”

“I-I can’t just take off my visor, Cub, you’d see my face. Secret identities, you know how it is.”

“I can’t see anything right now. If it makes you uncomfortable, you could just cover your face with your hands or turn around. Doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not going to steal a look; I couldn’t care less about superhero stuff. It’d be nice if you came by, bought something, then let my manager know who referred you though.”

“I- ah- Well of course! But I-” shouldn’t, was the word he meant to say, and couldn’t would have been even more accurate. Scar could not take off his visor, no matter how many cracks it had. It would be completely irresponsible! And for all he knew, CuteGuy was still around- everyone knew avians had impeccable eyesight. But on the other hand… Cub, Cub removing his visor. His hands in Scar’s hair, undoing the mask, gentle and kind and not sharp, goodness, someone without claws touching his face, peeling back the mask and (not really) seeing him. Scar felt himself melt into that non-existent touch. “Be my guest, then.” He closed his eyes. … He opened his eyes. Cub was staring at him.

“Are you going to take it off?”

“Ah-” Again, Scar felt his face heat up, and suddenly, he wanted much less to remove his visor, “Sorry, just nervous! Never done this before, haha!”

“I can cover my eyes if you-”

“Yes. Do that.” Scar nearly hissed, struggling to contain his own embarrassment. Cub didn’t hesitate, his expression almost crushingly neutral as he closed his eyes, then turned around. Scar bit his lip. The mask wasn’t easy to remove- it was important it stayed on during a fight, so despite doing this thousands of times, Scar still had to fiddle with it to get it off, practically shoving the thing into Cub’s arms so he could properly cover his face, feeling stupid as he cowered with his hands over his eyes. If Cub was paying him any mind, he didn’t know.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Cub mused, “It’s only the screen that’s shattered; the frame is a little beaten up, but still sturdy. Shouldn’t need replacing, but I guess you’d know better than I would. You want another orange one? Come by after 12:00 tomorrow and I’ll have it ready for you to pick up?” Scar felt the mask bump against his hands, and when he snuck a peek through his fingers, he saw Cub’s eyes were firmly shut. The gesture, benign as it was, made his heart flutter.

“Blue works too. As long as it matches.” Scar took the mask, quickly refastening it to his face. God that was stupid. Why had he done that. He already had suppliers, why did his brain have to be so dumb? “Thanks,” he choked out, “It’s back on.”

Cub opened his eyes, though they didn’t focus much; damn, he really must have awful eyesight- whatever. Fine. But he’d get to see Cub again! He’d have a real excuse, oh, maybe this was worth it. Wait a minute!

“Could I get your number?” Scar felt himself blurt out the words, flustered enough for the extra bit of awkwardness to embarrass him further, “For- ah- directions.” He tried to smile. Cub might have smiled back in his own way; which is to say, not actually smiling at all or making any sort of expression that might ease Scar’s nerves.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier if I gave you the address?” Genuine. Honest. Fucking brutal.

Scar pursed his lips, an expression Cub almost certainly didn’t see. “Yup. Probably.” Hopefully, tomorrow Cub would have another pair of glasses, so at the very least if he wasn’t persuaded by an extraordinarily attractive man desperately vying for his attention, he might just take pity on him. Though this didn’t quite feel like rejection, more just misunderstanding- Scar still had a chance here. Cub gave him the address and Scar wrote it down, still unable to squash the lingering disappointment as Cub, entirely unconcerned, waved goodbye, beginning his walk in the other direction.

But just as Scar turned around, “Wait!” and just like that, he had never stopped so quickly, spinning right back around to face Cub, who had also stopped. “Sorry, I just forgot, I wanted to get a picture-”

“A picture!” Scar cut him off accidentally, excitement taking over, “Why of course! I’d love to!” Scar trotted over, and Cub looked a bit put off, but no matter! Scar was great at taking pictures. Maybe once he managed to get Cub’s number, Cub could send it to him!

Cub shifted his weight, clearly a bit nervous, but that was nothing new. Honestly, it felt incredibly normal, a welcome feeling, and Scar felt right at home bending to Cub’s level as the other fumbled with his phone, flashing a practiced grin. Cub did not smile in the picture, looking nothing less than bored- utterly bizarre, but to each their own! With any luck, they’d get to take many more pictures.

“Thanks,” Cub mumbled, somewhat sheepish, “This is like the third time I’ve met you, and my roommate still doesn’t believe me. Didn’t take my word for it the first time, didn’t believe the picture I took the second time, but now that I’m in this one, he’ll have no choice but admit it.” Cub ended the sentiment sounding deeply pleased with himself, and that.. well. That made a little more sense. That was fine though, Scar wasn’t deeply wounded or anything that Cub didn’t actually want a picture with him just to have it. All good. Normal feelings.

“Well, if they don’t believe you, I’ll march right over there and tell them myself,” Scar joked, somewhat halfheartedly, but Cub didn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks. I’ll tell him that. Bye, HotGuy.” Cub waved, then kept walking, a look on his face that Scar hoped was contentment. Preferably, it’d be something like awe, admiration, or some amount of being utterly starstruck, but contentment would have to do. Hopefully next time, Cub would at least recognize him.

Part (all) of Scar hoped he and Cub would look back at the same time, catching each other’s eye in a moment of romantic tension, but after looking back several times, Scar was pretty sure Cub was just not looking in the first place, and then certain when he started to walk backwards to make sure. Cub didn’t turn around once.

That was fine. That was okay. Scar would win him over eventually- no- tomorrow. Tomorrow at noon, Scar would win him over. Cool! Great! Everything was cool and great. Up until, still walking backwards, he ran into someone else, a clawed hand wrapping firmly around his neck.

“It’s rude to leave a guy hanging, HotGuy, did you know? Or do you just not care. You don’t have to answer, I already know.”

“CuteGuy!” Scar half laughed, forcing as much energy into his tone as he could possibly manage, “It’s getting late, you know. I’m tired, aren’t you tired? You know, we’ve already fought tonight, and you bested me fair and square, so how about I give you a deal?”

CuteGuy’s talons tightened around Scar’s neck, the villain clicking his tongue, “I’ll humor you.”

“You won, you won, definitely not unfairly by ambushing me for zero reason, and I respect you CuteGuy, I respect you. So here’s the deal. You beat me, so tonight and tonight only, you do whatever you want, beat the piss out of whoever for whatever petty slight they committed against you like twenty years ago, and I’ll turn the other way. Won’t give you a single bit of grief! Like it never happened. A generous offer, CuteGuy, one I don’t extend to just anyone. An offer you can’t refuse, truly.”

CuteGuy hummed, and Scar felt his breath close to his ear. It took everything in him not to scoff, but CuteGuy didn’t keep him waiting long for an answer.

“You’re right. That is an offer I can’t refuse. You have a deal, HotGuy. You have a deal.”

“Great! So let's put the claws away then, shall we?”

“Mhm!” CuteGuy released his hold on Scar’s neck, and Scar rubbed it with his own hand, sighing at the pinpricks of blood. That grip would probably leave a mark tomorrow. Well, nothing a little makeup couldn't fix. But something clicked at his back, and Scar felt the absence of his bow right before he was kicked to the ground, yelping as he fell hard to his knees.

“What-”

“Take a guess which idiot I have a vendetta against tonight, HotGuy?” CuteGuy played with Scar’s bow for a moment before tossing it carelessly in the other direction, and Scar was beginning to get a pretty good idea of exactly who CuteGuy was angry with.

…

“Look. See? It’s me and him, super close to our apartment.” Cub held up his phone so Grian could see it, the other taking it from Cub’s hands and examining the picture with so much scrutiny, he almost looked like he was glaring. Something sly crept up Grian’s face after a moment, and he pointed decisively at the photo, tapping the screen with a talon.

“Photoshopped.”

“What?”

“As much as you claim not to care about heroes and villains, you sure do seem awfully insistent on convincing me you’ve met HotGuy. What is this, three times now? Come on, Cub. This is getting sad.” Grian cackled as Cub gaped, giving his roommate a hard shove before snatching his phone back.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I can’t believe you! Especially when you’re this desperate!”

“I am not desperate. You’re either insane, or fucking with me. At this point, I’m pretty sure you’re fucking with me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got some secret obsession with HotGuy. What gives? I thought we agreed we hated that guy; total arrogant piece of shit if you ask me. Complete idiot.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Cub! I can’t believe you!” Grian crossed his arms, turning away with a huff, but Cub only laughed, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey, you can be nice and an idiot. Listen, I understand you’re jealous and all, but rest assured, he told me if you didn’t believe me this time, he’d march right up here and tell you himself. You’ll get all the HotGuy you’ve been missing out on.”

“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Have fun pretending, then. I’ll see him at work today, so I’ll make sure to let him know you’re just dying to see him.”

“You- you’re what?”

“Yup. He broke his visor, or CuteGuy did at least. Told him I’d get him a new one if he put in a good word with my manager. You know she loves that guy.”

“I-You-” Cub wasn’t exactly sure what the expressions flashing across Grian’s face meant, but he managed to stop spluttering for long enough to say, “You are not allowed to make friends with HotGuy.”

“Uh, sure, I don’t think it’ll be hard. Don’t think he’s short on friends.”

Again, an odd expression crossed Grian’s face, but Cub dismissed it as one of Grian’s Moments; which is to say, exactly what he was in therapy for. To get a handle on the anger, reduce the frequency of flare ups at odd times, all that jazz. For now, best to change the subject.

“See any cool stars while you were out last night? It was pretty cloudy, so I didn’t really get much on the walk home.”

“Oh, right,” Grian relaxed, looking momentarily embarrassed, but the rest of their conversation was pleasant, Cub smoothing out the feathers on Grian’s wings so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. Lots of things tended to set him off, and embarrassment about getting worked up was a big contributor. Best to let him know he didn't have anything to feel bad about, not around Cub.

[instarsandcrime]

A Lesson Learned

Hi hello! So when I was first writing this I thought 'oh yeah, turns out Lucifer is allergic to pollen and he was in charge of Eden that's funny haha time to make a goofy fluffy thing where Charlie surprises him with flowers from the Garden' and then it absolutely turned into hurt/comfort because apparently that's just how I write! I will be putting a trigger warning below as well because this getssss...heavy as to the reason of why he's allergic? Kinda? It seems to fit with the Hazbin Hotel theme and Lucifer's arc so it shouldn't be a problem, but I'm going to put it down just in case.

(Also a fun little headcanon from @glitterrosesnzz! Hey Rose, see if you can spot it ;) )

TW: Religious trauma/guilt

---

It started, unlike many other nights, as one of the most wonderful Lucifer had ever experienced.

Though the Hazbin Hotel was bigger and brighter than ever, the atmosphere at the bar was cozy and warm. Tight-knit, like the lavishly spacious walls never existed– instead a little pigeonhole made for his little girl and the family that followed her to war and back. And even when he stepped onto the top floor's balcony, the laughter he left behind followed on the summer breeze, spilling from the windows like an overflowing teacup. He leaned on its railing, eyelashes fluttering closed to listen to its joined melody.

It was just missing its lead chorister.

"Dad!" Ahh, and there's the lady of the hour! The demon king spun around to soak in his darling daughter, marveling at how much she’d grown. Her long, flaring black ballgown swept gracefully as she crossed the threshold. 

"Charlie!” Lucifer beamed, greeting her with arms wide open. A giggle slipped from painted lips, and the princess lurched forward– before remembering herself and the hands behind her back. And all too suddenly Charlie had locked her stilettos in place, thick brows furrowed in concentration as she willed herself to not give her father a large, loving squeeze.

"Nope! Surprise first, hugs later." She stated. Lucifer was almost impressed, considering this was. Well. Charlie. He busied his hands instead with the twirl of his cane. Then, with much pomp and circumstance, dramatically drooped his lanky frame against its ruby red delicious handle.

"I dunno,” He heaved a wilting sigh, “I don’t think your ol’ man’s heart can take this much excitement! First you stop an extermination, then we start getting clients from all around the pride ring. But wow me some more, why don'tcha?"

"W-well I mean, it’s not much, but-- but Vaggie and I were talking, and between building like eighty percent of the hotel, kicking Adam's prick ass--"

"Language." The fallen angel teased.

"Kicking Adam's prick butt." Charlie rolled her eyes, still biting back a smirk.

"There we go."

"And you also, um. Want to restart a new relationship with me. That…really means a lot.” She swallowed, “So I, um, I pulled some strings with Emily, and I know you probably miss Eden..."

"...Oh..." Lucifer breathed. He felt his eyes water at the silky firework of colors that finally came into view. Not burnt, singed, or stained by blood. Not covered in poisoned barbs or snapped the air blindly with rows of teeth.

Flowers. Actual, honest-to-goodness flowers from the Garden itself.

"Charlie, I..." He huffed out a laugh as he stepped closer, taking the bouquet in his arms as delicately as a second child. "Stars above, they're wonderful!"

"'Stars above'?" Charlie stifled a laugh. Millenia-old angel lingo completely ignored as her father excitedly looked them over. Slit pupils dilated, shimmering like jewels. Sharp claws delicately pawing at each one like a slight breeze could rip their petals to shreds.

"Hah! I remember these! Oh man, what were they called? Carnations? Irises? I can't even remember which design I-- snff! Oh, sorry! Gimme a sec, Sweetie." He chuckled wetly, taking out a handkerchief to wipe away budding tears. But even when as dabbed his emotions away, he endlessly detailed each little part of his creations like they were precious cogs in a grand design, a universe he itched to re-explore.

"And roses! I've-- snfff! I've never created something so romantic at the time but…b-but…!"

Lucifer froze. Fat droplets spilled into small streams, shoulders shaking as his breath hitched. And all too suddenly, Charlie’s heart sank to her stomach. Of course, how could she be so stupid! He was an angel for so long! He probably missed Heaven, missed Eden, missed being a seraphim, missed--...mom.

"Oh please, please don't cry." Charlie took a step forward, hand outstretched, "I-I can take it back! Orrr give it to Sir Pentious instead? I’m sure he’d love it considering how much he respects–"

And stumbled ten paces back as a sudden, violent sneeze nearly shattered her eardrums.

"HET'CHMPH'HHhhiew!" Lucifer pitched into his handkerchief, petals and flecks of pollen scattered to the wind. A small bubble of silence filled the air before her father rushed to pop it with another burst of laughter, nearly choking as his breath continued to hitch desperately. "S-sorry Sweetheart, I didn't mean to scehh-scare you! That was- ...th-thah-hah-! HAT’CHIEW! Guhhh...that was louder than...than I…hhh…ex-expectihhhHHHAT'CHHHH! HAT'CHHHH’HEW! Hit'CHHHH'MPHHH! Snfff! Ohh..."

Surfacing again from the billowing fabric, Lucifer met Charlie’s stunned expression with a sheepish grin, a golden flush spreading from his cheeks to the tip of his nose.

"Are you. Are you allergic to…?" Charlie trailed off, worrying her bottom lip.

Oh, no. Oh, no, nononono he can’t disappoint her again!

"Nope! Nuh-uh! Absolutely not! Just a tickle! Nduthig to-- t-to...snff! Ugh, worry aboudt!"

"Dad?"

"Now where was I? Ah, yes! Roses! Ugh, they smbell so good but boyhhh…b-boy do the-thehh-theyyyISHHHH’HIEW! hhhHHH-! …HIT’SHHHH’HIEW! HITSHHIEW! Whew! Excuse mbe! Their thorns hurt...like....l-like...hhhHHH-! Hat’shiew! 'Tshhhiew! 'Tshhh! ‘tshh! li-lihhh-like adythihhh-hih-hih-HITSHHH! Snfff! A-anythi'g. Ugh. Sndff! And don't get mbe started on foxglove! What was I-- hhh! Wh-whuhhh-what was I thihhh-hih-hih-hih! Th-thihhh-thidki'g– IT'SHIEW!"

"Dad."

"Poisonous, Charlie! I made themb– ET’SHHH! poisonous! Co’be ond, they're so...s-so-huh! Hhhol…h-hold onnnNN'TCHHH'hiew! ET'SHHH'HIEW! ISHHH'HIEW!"

"Dad!"

"I'm fide, Ch-Chuhhh-Charlie! I really-- …I-- hih! I-I-- hih-hih! really amb fihhh-hihh-HIT’SCHHH! FIDE! I’mb fide!" Lucifer finally forced out, laughing between desperate hitches, "It's just, y'dnow, the sudlight's a liddle…a liddle stro'g a’d– hhhahh..! HATCHHH’HEW! HET’CHHHH’HIEW!"

"It's nighttime." Charlie crossed her arms.

"W-wait! Did I say sudlight? Hah! Silly– snff! Silly mbe! I mbeant the air's a liddle strong. The cold's affegtig mby ndose a bihh-bit-hit'tshhh! Hit'shhh-tshhh-tsh! H-hehhhHH-! HET'CHIEW!"

"It's summer."

"Did I say cold? I mbeant um-- uhhhh–" A bead of sweat rolled down his neck, and he sniffled thickly, "Y'dnow what? Doesn't mbatter. I'mb ndot allergic to flowers and– snddffff! and I'll prove it."

"Uh-huh." She took a cautious step forward. "By doing wha-- Dad, stop!"

It wasn't much, it was just a small sniff. But Hell’s Bells did it set off something awful. Come on, for fuck’s sake, you can control this! It’s just a sneeze! You’re Lucifer Morningstar! You’re The Devil! You’re all powerful! Immortal! Unkillable! You can mold the mountains with your right hand and oceans with your left! You’re…y-you’re…!

"Hehhhh-heh! Hhhh…relax. Do-d-do you really think I...I-I...snrff!" The ailing demon quickly rubbed at his nostrils with a handkerchief, desperate to satisfy the burning tickle-- silently panicking further as the pollen he'd touched followed suit. "Would go aroud Edehhhn...worki'g...worki'g with a creahhhtion thadt made me sn-sneehh...sneehhHHHIT'SCHH-- starsnotagain-- HIT'SCHH! ISHHH'HIEW! ISHHH! ISHH! 'Tshhh! 'Tsh! ITSCHH! IT'SCHHHH-’TCHH! …ihhHH-!...IT'SHHH’HIU!"

His cane fell to the floor with a sharp thunk, staggering back at the force of the fit. Feeling the flick of embers on the tip of his forked tongue, Lucifer let out another uncontrollable outburst, flames licking the metal railing. Slapping a palm over his mouth at the melted remains.

"O-oh goodness I-- HIT'SHHH’hiew! I'b so sorry Charlie, I-I didn't mbean to- to– IT’SCHHH'hhhiew!" He scrambled to weave the well-soaked cloth with fiberglass, pressing it to his face, a cascade of smoke and hellfire pouring into its fluttering fabric.

"One. Bless you a million times over. Two.” Charlie’s expression changed into something unimpressed. “To answer your earlier question…yes, I absolutely believe you would work through allergies."

"But! I! I-I..." Despite Lucifer’s suffering expression, his daughter swallowed the urge to sigh in relief as the Sin of Pride flashed through all five stages of grief at once before finally landing on acceptance. Watching as the fallen king ever-so-gently set the flowers at his feet and, like molding clay, formed an ornately-carved cloche over the holy gift. Then, silently, leaned against the undamaged edge of the railing. And cringed as he let loose a gurgling noseblow.

"Adgels don'd get allergies. Idt was jusd-- Oh for fugg's sagke hold on." Lucifer Morningstar, former keeper of light, might as well have reclaimed his title at the way his embarrassed blush lit the night sky. He inhaled again, deeper, and reprised his mucky solo. "Ahem! It was, um. A lesson."

"...What?" Charlie’s face fell.

"Yyyep! A moral lesson about pride." Fidgety claws scooped up his cane, tapping the heel on the floorboards. Gripping it tightly to keep them from shaking. 

"I was young, y'know? I had a lot of ideas. And boy were they a lot in more ways than one. I loved making flowers. Chrysanthemums. Violets. T-tu...tulihhh...hih!" Lucifer sniffled, feeling the itch rear its head at the thought of them. He quickly dissipated the pollen still stuck to his gloves with a hearty shake and gave an another sharp blow, "Ugh, 'scuse me. You get the idea."

Inhale. Exhale. "I wasn’t exactly doing well in my father's eyes. I was doing too much. I was too much. So They ordered my brother Michael to curse every flower in Eden. They...I mean hey, they weren't wrong. At the end of the day, the stories didn’t label it as an endless paradise for nothing, hah!" One final, hollow, empty chuckle. It was getting harder and harder to keep his smile, he could feel his muscles pulling at the seams– how did Alastor keep the whole Cheshire grin shtick up every goddamn minute of the day? It’s torture!

"I needed to slow down juuuust a smidge. Think about other people for a change and how my creations might cause problems for others without realizing it. So the second I touched down in the garden I created, hoo boy! I couldn't– snff! couldn’t stop sneezing. Ughhh, it so humiliating! A huge damage to my– snfff! my pride. I mean for Heaven’s sake, the two mortal lives I’m supposed to protect got a full view of their guardian angel completely taken over by what? Some yellow dhhh…snfff! dust? I wish I could say I didn't deserve it, but I did." He stared down at his feet, "Sorry. I know you worked hard to get me those flowers– and it’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten, bar none! But I’m afraid I’m aller– …allerhhh….a-allergihhhHHet’shhh! Het’Shhh’hiew! h-hehhhh…” Shit, not again! The handkerchief was well past its due date and he could feel another burst of fire crawl up his throat and the itch kept building and building and–

“Ehhh…hhhHHH-! Hhhh…” Lucifer nearly choked on a gasp– tickle suddenly forced back when a slender finger pressed under his twitching nose. He couldn’t help but sigh in relief, shoulders slumping. Ugh, what a nightmare. Burning blush creeping down his neck, Lucifer was ready to spread his wings and fly back to his hotel room-- his palace workshop-- anywhere but face the disgust that followed. But Charlie needed him to change. He needed to change. So he steeled his resolve, slowly lifted his head and--

"What the FUCK!"

--floundered to grab the railing for balance. The princess of hell and queen of sunshine and rainbows suddenly surrounded herself in a wildfire of rage as she dared to chastise a moral lesson from God themself. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

“...L-language…?” Lucifer squeaked out and nope– that callback absolutely fell flat. But it was all he could offer as Charlie tore her hand away to pace in circles, charred hoofprints trailing behind her. Oh. She’s defending him. 

Wait. What? 

Oh, wow. That's uh. That is currently a thing. That is a thing that is currently happening now.

"--dare they just. Change their mind?!" Shit! Daughter in distress, snap out of it! Quickly shaking his head free of shell shock, Lucifer pushed himself off the railing, hands outstretched.

"Oh come on Char-Char, you know me. Sin of Pride over here! I needed to be humbled somehow! Hah!" His joking tone only fueled the flames, and before he knew it long, flowing locks were floating, flaring with every unsteady breath.

"Oh yeah, because making you suffer is tooooootally the answer! I'm sure you had plenty of time to bless their forgiving hearts between the seconds you were sneezing your head off!" She snapped.

"It was a different time Stardust, and the way anyone was ever taught--"

"And what, your brothers were just too good to defend you? To even try to see your side of things?"

"I-I was being a bit disobedient–"

"You were LITERALLY doing the ONE THING they asked you to do! Grow a garden!"

“It’s more– snff! it’s more complicated than that.”

“What do you mean ‘more complicated’?! Why are you taking their side? Heaven did something awful to you!”

“I’m not– they were just trying to– I wasn’t–!” He practically pulled his mind through a labyrinth of dusty closets, forcing open memories with triple locks to find a single shred of an excuse– only to find each one empty. “There’s paperwork! Permission! Rules! A-and sure I did my best to follow them, but as always I got carried away– I deserved it–”

“Never say that again! Never, ever say that again! You never deserved what happened to you!”

Lucifer’s words died in his throat.

“You shouldn’t have to hide behind jokes because you feel guilty for having a dream, Okay?!” Charlie threw her hands up in exasperation, a strange concoction of extreme love and kindness at the loudest volume she could muster.

“O-okay???” Lucifer stuttered out.

“Good!”

“Goo-good!” 

Satisfied, Charlie exhaled sharply, stomping over to the railing to sit down at its melted edge. Legs dangling above the skyline, lights twinkling like blossoming stars beneath her hooves. The tense silence only lasted a minute– shattering with the clink of glass, a sweet smell following suit. Then slowly, carefully, Lucifer sat beside her. Twisting thin, emerald stems between his claws. He nervously glanced her way. Then down at his lap. Then back to her. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

“Sorry, Dad.” Charlie murmured, “I didn’t mean to yell.”

Her oncoming spiral of apologies was cut short when a lily snaked into her hair, delicately tucked behind her ear. It was a small action, but…

She smiled, leaning into her father’s touch as he began to weave the bouquet into a long, silky braid.

“It would be a waste to ruin such a nice– snff! Nice offering, wouldn’t it?” The King of Hell muttered from behind. Charlie hummed a soft note as she leaned into the touch, claws gently scraping against her scalp as he worked, forked tongue slightly sticking out as he concentrated. 

“Thank you. For, um. Sndfff! Ugh, sorry. For being patient with…with mbe– hih! Hit’schh’hew! ‘Tshhew! Nhh…” She could feel a sudden jolt as he twisted his torso to the side.

“Of course.” Charlie pat his hand. She would admonish her new resident for pushing himself, but as the resident rehabilitation expert, she’d let this one time slide. For now.

A brief pause as Lucifer made the finishing touches on her new hairdo– a tapestry of pale thread and an aurora of watercolors. His own little garden. She turned around to see a nose already twitching, cringing when nothing came from a sniffle, too blocked up by 'yellow dust'. Desperate to find some other way to breathe, he opened his mouth, tongue flicking out.

“Guhh…bedder show Vaggie your ndew look before I start ubp agaihhh...! Heh-!...hhhehh...HET'TCHH'hiew...'Tchhew! HET'CHHIEW! Het'SHHHIEW! HETSCHHHIEW! Heh-heh-heh-! hheh...hhhh...hooo...good golly, I-- I'mb so ssssorry–” Lucifer froze, slapping his hands over his mouth at the loud, uncontrollable hiss. Burying his face in the freshly conjured fabric, he prayed the damn thing would swallow him whole.

Frozen when two arms embraced him, adding a tight squeeze for good measure.

“I know this is kinda out of the blue, but I just wanted to say it again. Thanks for protecting me.” A soothing voice met his ears, “I mean it. Seriously. I couldn’t have done all this without you.”

Handkerchief still pressed to his face, he lifted his head, trying– and failing– to hide a sly grin. “You know, this whole allergy thigg wasn'd all bad. Whed your mom foudd out thadt Mbichael cursed every flower I’d mbade, she called for his guidance.”

“Oh, really? What’d she tell him?” Charlie raised a brow.

“Let’s see, I think it went sombethi'g like this.” Lucifer set the stage, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. “Saint Mbichael floated down frub the heavens, holy light shining above. He landed softly and delicately, armbs spread. He said the usual line, you know the one. 'Oh Lilith, Child of The Garden, blah blah blah.” He took a deep breath. “She looked himb in the eye. Grabbed his collar. And– snfff! And then punched himb right in the face. He’d graced every adgel’s presence with a bruised ndose for a week. She called it a mboral lesson in tolerance.”

And then resisted the urge to let out a victorious whoop as finally, finally, Charlie began to laugh.

[astroels]

E. Williams drabble

In which you and Ellie are about to have sex, but she notices the new marks that scar your skin tissue making her stop and comfort you instead.

wc, 1.1k

a/n: this is extremely self indulgent, I don't mean for this to come across as harmful or promoting, I just need the comfort and hope it's able to comfort anyone in the same situation

cw, mentions of sh / relapse, comfort

You laid at an angle of Ellie's bed as she pressed herself on top of you. She made out with you so passionately that you loved drowning yourself in her. The softness of her mattress and sheets, the slight woody scent of her room, it all just made you feel safe, you could forget every bad thing in here. Ellie pulled away from the kiss to talk to you. All you could focus on were her swollen lips that were wet and flush that went across her freckles. She gave you this dumb smile "You're so pretty, baby." You simply giggled at her statement, she was so cute.

In need for progression, you took off your shirt, with only your bra and pants remaning. Ellie followed your action, leaving her in her sports bra and went back to kissing, making her way down your neck. She left sloppy kisses that felt so heavenly against your skin. It prickled and made you think of just her. She playfully kissed between your breasts and quickly pecked your lips before making her way to your stomach. You were always so insecure of it when you first started dating, but Ellie made you feel so content with it. She touched you with love, and kissed everywhere, your scars, strechmarks, fat, birthmarks, she knew how to cherish every part of you.

As she reached your stomach, you tensed up with her kisses feeling slightly ticklish. You made a noise of pleasure to encoruage her, loving every moment she made you feel sweet. Before tugging your pants down, she looked up for permission, meeting your eyes with such a dreamy stare. You whispered, "Go ahead, Els." You wanted nothing more than to feel her against you.

It's at the moment she pulled your pants down and took time to completely pull them off that you felt the pain of the scabs being stretched on your skin. You panicked, not because she didn't know about your tendencys, but you hadn't told her this time and you totally forgot about it for being in the moment. You felt a different tensity in your stomache, making you physically sick and inducing mild shakes. You simply pretended they weren't there, maybe Ellie would get the hint. You hitched your breathe and closed your eyes, waiting for Ellie to pull your underwear and continue. But she didn't. You felt her fingers graze across the spot that was littered in cuts. They were a few days old, yet not old enough for Ellie to excuse. She looked at you immediately but you refused to open yours and confront it.

"Oh, baby." She said softly, moving to the side of you instead of being on top. At her movement you opened your eyes and faced opposite of her, feeling your tears starting to swell, seeking to come out. You didn't want her to know, you didn't want her to constantly worry about you and all your fucked up problems. At your distance, Ellie tried to ease into the conversation. She placed her hand on your hand, drawing shapes and soothing the back of your palm. "how's everything now?" She knew how bothered you were by "Are you okay?" or "what happened?" cause are you kidding? it's so obvious you're not okay and what you did.

You felt the tears fall down your cheek, and the hiccups forming from how ugly you were about to cry. "dunno," is all you could form out as you started sobbing, your body jerking with each one. Ellie understood the intensity and knew not to push. Seeking comfort, you turned to Ellie, trying to wipe your tears, unsuccessfully. She knew what to do, she brought you to her chest, holding you, soothing your back and quietly giving you affirmations. " 's okay, baby, I've got you." "you're alright" " 'm here for you." Her voice felt so comforting in moments like this, you loved her caring nature. Still crying, you tried to speak, despite the big lump that blocked your throat and made it hard to speak.

"I've felt so drained." Your voice came out in a croak and broken up. Ellie didn't speak, allowing for you to continue at any moment you could. As time passed, your sobs became less frequent as you focused on all the sense, Ellie's smell, Ellie's touch, her voice, anything and everything her. The somewhat concentration on everything else allowed you to tell Ellie what was going on despite the lump in your throat that blocked all talking abilities. You spilled everything quickly and slurred, how you felt lonely, your helplessness, how it all came crashing down at night and you didn't want to burden her with all your struggles.

She hummed trying to form an answer. Ellie pulled you away and held your face. "You're never a burden, baby. put you above everything else for a reason, you're my light, alright?" She wiped the tears that spilled onto your cheek. "any time of the day, I'll be there for you when y'need me." You nodded at her words, letting them sink in. "nothing's gonna hurt you baby, 'm here." She brought you into a hug, holding you with all she could. Ellie then placed a kiss on your forehead and smiled. You kissed her on her lips as a token of appreciation.

You let out a small laugh at how ridiculous you looked right now. Now that any moment of sex was up, you felt the cold air creep on your skin, sending chills. Ellie took notice and grabbed, not your shirt, but one of her hoodies and watched as you put it on. It smelled just like her, everything you could dream of. Her in her sports bra and sweats and you in her hoodie and underwear still felt intimate with Ellie. Anything you both did, drilled a hole of intense love for you. It sometimes was overwhelming, but you were glad it was with Ellie, who kept on loving you.

As you both laid, with Ellie spooning you, you also gave affirmation, "I love you Ellie, always will." She hummed in pleasure. "I love you too, baby." And like that, you overcame another mishap, with Ellie by your side.

Although you wished Ellie had just kept on going, you knew you'd just jump into conclusions afterwards that she didn't love you and just wanted you for sex or something. God you were complicated, but Ellie made sure to always reassure you that she was yours and yours only. Despite you finding an issue and intensity in everything, Ellie never made you feel like something to deal with, and you loved her for it. You loved her then and now, when she held you and put you to sleep with nothing but love.

[66sharkteeth]

more thoughts (positive for a change)

sorry to keep treating this like a personal journal when most of you are here for CoB content but it remains the 1 place where i feel semi-safe talking about things w/o blasting them to 10k+ people while also having more than 0 people listening

but just feeling a little hopeful for once! i got invited to speak on my 2nd ever panel today. it looks like it's a small convention and it's far too early to know if it'll actually pan out (not even responding today bc im trying to be more strict about giving myself wednesdays off), but it's still just...really cool that i'm actually being recognized as a professional and invited to things.

i still think so much about how when i was like.....12....or something, we had to do one of those like...dream life assignments. and i remember exactly what i said- i wanted to be a mangaka in japan with a studio apartment (yes, i was a very cringy kid. i called my friends -chan and -kun too). then i got older and more realistic. realized i could do art, but never my own project, and yeah, that's what i did for a long time.

yet... here i am now?!! granted, i never moved to japan (which i'm fine w/ lol) and it turns out studio apartments kinda suck and i much prefer a 1 bedroom...but i'm making a living off of that comic i came up w/ in middle school when had 0 concept of reality and how unlikely the chance to do that would be. and... i dunno! for a kind of rare moment, i feel like i can keep doing it (knock on wood)? if it's not obvious by now, i can get kinda doom and gloom about my future (and i wont even think about the industry as a whole w/ AI becoming more of a problem every day), but just for this moment i feel kinda optimistic?

i still have no idea what my future holds with webtoon. I have no idea when I'll have something ready to pitch again or if they'll even take it, but for once I feel like that uncertainty doesn't mean all or nothing. I kinda feel confident for once that even once CoB concludes on Webtoon, I can keep doing this to some capacity, whether that's through another series, physically printing CoB, somehow continuing CoB, I dunno yet. like i dunno. i think i'm just finally having this dawning realization that i am a professional? and other people see me as such? ik, probably a dumb thing to just now be realizing but blah blah, imposter syndrome or something, etc etc.

not sure where i'm going with this but just thank you guys for your support. if you're one of the like 100 people who actually follow me here, tbh you're probably one of my more dedicated readers, so thanks for being part of making this quite literal childhood fantasy dream come true. and shout out to the people actually inviting me to stuff on the super slight chance they actually follow me here. it seriously gave me kind of a reminder that oh yeah, i am a professional and good at this

[spidrgrl]

In contrast to the 3 favorite characters, which 3 characters you hate the most in homestuck.

Oh gyatt

Honorable mentions before my big three: Doc Scratch........ And Rose and Jade from HS^2 (HOMESTUCK TWO ONLY. I don't hate them otherwise)

Also, slight TW for stuff that's happened with Meenah. I don't go in depth but I still wanna warn, skip number 2 entirely if you're uncomfortable with reading about it!!!!!!!!

Well, drumroll please for a VERY big yap sesh!!!!!!!!

Number 3 is

Aradiabot.

Tbh I don't hate her THAT much anymore. It's just she's a lot easier to explain than my Honorable Mentions™. It's more of a hate for Hussie's bad writing.

As a character, she's perfect. Perfect perfect perfect. She's so badass that a lot of people in the Homestuck fandom can't really comprehend it, so they call her boring! I don't blame those people though. Her actions were cool, but she herself wasn't since she hardly had a personality or emotions, and that's wonderful for a robot character!

But as a replacement for a friend???????? No. Absolutely not. It's like having a corpse of someone close to you and reminding you of everything that you caused. And you know what? The corpse hardly speaks, because it's DEAD.

I hated her for the entire time she was near me, and now I only kinda resent her as a character and both as a replacement for Aradia. She could sense those emotions, but she didn't care. Never cared! She was only a vessel that held a troll, and she didn't care about that either. She only cared about doing what was programmed for her to do.

I knew she hated me at least a little. But besides punching me in the face, she didn't say anything. No closure, no anything, just a cold metal punch to the face to a girl that's already kicked down! I wouldn't blame her for it if it was Aradia, but Aradiabot had nothing behind that punch. She had more emotions for EQUIUS just because she was PROGRAMMED/WRITTEN TO BE.

This is one of the reasons why Hussie's writing pisses me off! He replaced a PERFECTLY GOOD TROLL with a ROBOT and hardly ever talked about her ever again unless if it was for like, one or two panels. One of the best characters had her reputation absolutely TRASHED and now everybody thinks she's boring just because of ARADIABOT taking her place.

She could've been a lot cooler for a girl that stole Aradia's identity and story, y'know? That's mainly where my resentment lies.

Thankfully, she's not at all as bad as my number 2, which is

Meenah.

I DESPISE her. Not in a pitch way, my god. I loathe her in a way that means I want her dead. I wish I never met her, seriously. One of the worst cases of my bad luck was meeting her.

I think you guys could understand why I hate her already, but that's not the ONLY reason why either. So here's a list chat

Literally WRITTEN to be only terrible and a gag. As a character, all she has going for her is shittiness and stolen swag from The Condesce. We don't even know WHY she is the way she is, hardly any detail is given to backstory unlike me and my friends, so all readers know about her is that she's a trashy creep with a cool design and a want for money and power.

Has the same problem pretty much all of the dancestors do! Having a cool design and theme but they're two dimensional, almost always sexual, and having weird relationships with trolls that are a GENERATION younger than them.

Another very clear display of Hussie's shitty writing and bad decision making. He completely TOSSED the idea of a good character when he made her.

The things she did to me.

The things she did to Karkat.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT???????? SHE UNDERSTANDS THAT IT'S BAD. SHE VERY CLEARLY UNDERSTOOD WHAT SHE WAS DOING, IT'S THE ONLY TIME THAT THIS TYPE OF TOPIC IS NOT IN A JOKING LIGHT.

Oh, but that's not all!!!!!!!! For some reason, the GENIUSES for HS^2/Homestuck Beyond Canon decided, hey, let's KEEP THE CREEP and have her in a MATESPIRIT RELATIONSHIP with, oh I dunno, ONE OF THE TROLL KIDS SHE MET WHEN THEY WERE 6 SWEEPS (13 YEARS) OLD and she was 9 SWEEPS (19 YEARS) OLD. Yeah, that's so smart guys, bravo, you guys are really fixing up the dumpster fire that is Hussie's writing with some fuel. /j /sarc

Plus not to mention the fact that basically ALL proshippers in the Homestuck fandom crowd around her and romanticize what she did. Especially what she did to me. Like her whole existence endangers me even now. Yeah guys, let's NOT ship an abuser x victim.

Cry harder mf you know what you did. Scott Pilgrim ahh

Anyways, despite how much I wish Meenah never existed, you wanna know who I somehow hate more than her? My number 1 is

Hussie.

Andrew Hussie. The Huss.

Look, I do applaud him for making Homestuck. But I also punch him in the face for making Homestuck. Man, he should've given the story to Toby Fox or something, just ANYBODY but him.

No Hussie. Not like that. Stop producing new updates for HS^2, they CLEARLY got their writing skills from you.

And also, added to your terrible writing, why in the FUHREAK did you propose to your own character when she was a minor. Then also whine about getting rejected to another one of your characters (Cronus). Not to mention you actually sat at your desk and wrote the entire thing.

Like ew

Anyways, this EVEN BIGGER yap sesh is done!!!!!!!! Ty for asking anon

P.S.: if you're an introject of anybody on this list, I don't hate you specifically. If you want we can yap about source (except Meenah, I don't blame you for source but I wouldn't be able to talk with you, sorry)!

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 ao3

Joyce drops off Will, El and Mike with more homemade food after they’ve had dinner, which makes Steve smile. 

“Tell your mom I’m not gonna have enough space to put all of this in the fridge.”

“You can just eat some of it and then you will have space,” El says, matter-of-fact, “like what Eddie is doing.”

Eddie pauses in his eating of Koogle chocolate spread straight out the jar.

Steve laughs loudly.

Eddie sighs, leans into the melodrama of it. “Damn, right for the jugular. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

El makes a show of thinking in response. Eddie watches her with infinitely growing fondness, how she fights to keep a straight face, unable to stop her smile from breaking through. “No.”

Eddie slumps against the counter like he’s just received a fatal blow.

“Hey, person without a cast,” Steve says dryly, “help put some stuff away, this isn’t a hotel.”

“I dunno, Harrington, you seem like the type to have monogrammed dressing gowns and shit.”

The tips of Steve’s ears turn a damning red.

Eddie pounces on the sight with a delighted grin. “Oh dear god.”

“Eddie—”

“Holy shit,” Eddie whispers, like he’s found the Holy Grail. “I was just talking out my ass man, but. You do.”

“Only ‘cause Robin—it was one joke Christmas present, all right?”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say.”

They all make short work of putting the food away, but the kids linger in the kitchen, like they don’t want to say goodbye just yet.

It’s funny, Eddie has distant memories of Hawkins characterising Will Byers as a quiet little kid when he went ‘missing’, but there’s hardly any of that shyness now. The only slight hint of uneasiness Eddie can discern is that every so often, Will’s hand will rise up as if to scratch the back of his neck, like he’s hardly aware that he’s doing it; he spots El catching his hand in hers once, gently pulling it back down—does it in such a way that it never draws attention.

If anything, Mike is the quiet one, which is tripping Eddie up; he’s so used to his vocal commentary at Hellfire. He can’t tell if it’s just general post-nearly end of the world exhaustion or—something else. He doesn’t know what.

From the way Mike is standing, shoulders occasionally hiking up to his ears, Eddie gets the feeling that he doesn’t want to be asked about it.

Will does the majority of the talking, spends most of the time making references to what went down in California that Eddie can barely follow, revels in teasing Dustin about Suzie—

“Wait, Henderson’s girlfriend is real?” Eddie says.

Dustin glares at him. “Hey!”

Steve nods seriously. “I know.”

Dustin spins around, pokes Steve in the side. “Hey.”

Bizarrely, this prompts Will into an enthusiastic rendition of NeverEnding Story, which makes Dustin groan as if he’s been plagued with it for centuries. But there’s a celebratory sound to all of it, to the way Will sings cheekily, even the way Dustin is rolling his eyes—like they can’t believe they can afford the time to just be silly.

Under the cover of the kids’ laughter, Steve leans forward in his seat, catching Eddie by the wrist.

“Hey, later could you—would you mind helping me up the stairs? I wanna…” He pushes back his hair, grimacing. “Got, like, a sink wash in hospital, but it wasn’t that great.”

There’s a self-conscious air to how he speaks, how he keeps fiddling with flyaway strands of hair.

“Yeah, man, no problem,” Eddie says, matching Steve’s lowered volume. Still look good to me.

They wait until they’re alone—Dustin leaves in Joyce’s car, too, with a firm, “I’ll be back,” flung over his shoulder; Steve snorts, “Sure thing, Arnie.”

Once they conquer the stairs, Eddie’s shoulder aching from Steve needing to lean on it, Eddie optimistically believes that the rest will be plain sailing from here.

Steve’s set up on a stool, and Eddie’s standing in the bathtub, about to see how far the shower-head can stretch.

Steve is in the middle of saying, “Oh, just watch out, don’t think I changed the temperature from when I last—”

Eddie’s elbow catches on the dial. He shrieks as he’s immediately hit with a blast of cold water.

“Jesus Christ,” he wheezes, finally managing to switch the shower off. His hair is sopping wet. “How am I the freak? What kind of monster takes a cold shower willingly?”

And Steve laughs so hard that he nearly falls off the stool, as if the light-heartedness of the kids earlier has lifted his spirits, made him giddy.

“You look,” he says, through a raucous fit of giggles, “like a drowned rat.”

“Excuse me? Oh, tread very, very carefully, Harrington,” Eddie says, raising the shower-head in warning.

Steve raises an eyebrow coolly. “You’re bluffing.”

Eddie is, in fact, not bluffing.

-

“Oh wow.” Eddie makes a low whistle, like he’s just discovered a rare antique. “Why isn’t this behind glass? This shit is history; it should be preserved.”

Steve blinks, gives him a sardonic look from where he’s lying on the bed, leg propped up with pillows. “Pretty sure I’m not the only person to own a Hawkins Phys. Ed T-shirt.”

Eddie scoffs, shaking out the shirt with a pointless flourish before putting it back in the closet. “Yeah, but you, like, wore it.”

“Oh, sorry, I misunderstood you, man. So I’m the only person ever to wear a Hawkins Phys. Ed T-shirt.”

“You know what I mean, asshole.”

Before Steve got round to actually washing his hair, they had spent a lot of time just goofing around, trying to soak the other. While attempting to ensure that it was a fair fight, that Steve didn’t overbalance on the stool, Eddie ended up nearly braining himself on the tub’s faucets—but maybe he really did suffer a head injury, he reasons, otherwise there’s no excuse for what he says next.

“You made it part of your whole thing, you know? Like, yeah, people wear clothes, but you wore outfits.”

Steve laughs, rolling his eyes. “Shut up. You’re making me sound like a sitcom character.”

“Oh, but you were,” Eddie says, grinning with the knowledge that he’s about to be very annoying. “Did you see yourself in the school corridors? You walked like you had your own theme music, man.”

“Says you,” Steve retorts. “I think a laugh track would’ve helped your cafeteria sermons.” And before Eddie can attempt a theatrical gasp of offence, Steve points at a baggy sweater in the closet. “Hey, gimme that one, it’ll do.”

Eddie actually puts some effort into properly aiming the shirt when he throws it, but Steve almost drops it. Eddie turns, ready to tease him, because Steve Harrington is hardly known for fumbling a catch, but stops when he sees the stricken look on Steve’s face.

“What is it?”

“I just—I just remembered,” Steve stutters out, eyes wide. “Shit, Eddie, I’m sorry. Your vest.”

Eddie stares, uncomprehending. “Come again?”

“Your vest. Damn it, I didn’t even think to ask for… they must’ve cut it off me or—”

“Oh, Jesus,” Eddie says, and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. He shakes his head to try and clear it of the awful image they must’ve cut it off me conjures up then says, with fervour, “Steve. Don’t worry about it. Like, honestly, truly? Do not worry about it. I really can’t stress how much I don’t give a shit.”

Steve frowns, clearly still unhappy about it.

“I’ll just steal one of your polos and call it even.”

Steve smiles weakly; Eddie still counts it as a win. “Mm, I have it on good authority that the Phys. Ed T-shirt is highly sought after.”

“Damn, what idiot said that?”

Eddie turns while shutting the closet, glancing over at Steve as he does so. That’s when he sees it, sees Steve’s bare skin as he takes his shirt off, about to change into the sweater—

There’s no bandages wrapped around his middle anymore. They have healed faster than any normal wounds should, but that fact doesn’t diminish the way Eddie’s stomach lurches at the sight: the gouges in the skin from the bats, and several deep, ragged claw marks. There’s a sudden ringing in his ears; the wetness of Steve’s blood on his fingers…

He feels his knee slam against the bed frame distantly, like it’s happening to someone else. Then Steve’s hand is wrapped around his wrist, and he’s thrown back into his body, and he tilts—

“Hey, hey, you’re all right,” Steve says, and he pulls Eddie down to sit on the bed.

Eddie sways, tries to stand up again—but that just makes the sudden faintness worse.

“Woah, take it easy,” Steve murmurs, and Eddie blinks and blinks until his face swims into view, eyebrows drawn in concern. “God, you feeling okay? You went white.”

“You were bleeding,” Eddie says stupidly. He squeezes his eyes shut, tips his head down and just breathes.

And then he feels Steve gently guide his hand to rest over the wounds. Places it there, puts his own hand on top.

“Not anymore,” Steve says simply.

Eddie traces the marks. They don’t feel overly cold which helps. His hand rises and falls with every breath Steve takes.

Steve keeps his eyes on him, doesn’t let go of his hand until Eddie can stand again.

-

Steve has already drifted off to sleep on the couch when the phone rings.

Eddie picks it up with a quiet, “Hello?”

“E-Eddie?”

At first, Eddie doesn’t recognise the voice on the other end. It’s only when his name is repeated that the realisation hits.

It’s Mike.

Eddie has never heard him sound so uncertain, not even when he was first invited to sit at Hellfire’s lunch table.

“Hey, Mike,” he says, can’t stop a note of anxiety bleeding through. “What’s up?”

“It’s… it’s Nancy,” Mike says. He starts off almost reluctant, as if he’s worried about breaking some sort of sibling code by mentioning her, but the sound of his true fear quickly overrides that. “She—she left, and she told me she was gonna, um, call you, or something? I don’t know, but she… she’s not back yet and I… I don’t think she did. Call you.”

“She didn’t,” Eddie confirms, grabs a piece of his hair and pulls.

Mike’s voice pitches a little higher; he sounds very young. “I don’t know where she’s gone. Eddie, she didn’t even take her car.”

“Okay, okay.” Eddie’s eyes dart about the room, land on Steve’s car keys. “Hey, Mike? It’ll be okay, man. I’m gonna go get her.”

He heads for the door in a mad dash, one arm through his leather jacket. Before he goes, he takes the time to write Steve a note—if he wakes up, Eddie figures that there’s no point in him just sitting there alone, worrying, so he settles for something that will hopefully make him laugh instead.

Back soon. Totally not stealing your car. Cross my heart. On an unrelated note, I took your car keys. -E

-

He finds her at the trailer park, of course. Sitting right by his and Wayne’s place, in the spot where…

She’s hugging her knees, pressing the side of one cheek into them. Her boots are muddy again.

Eddie gets out of the car with more noise than is strictly necessary, so she’s not startled by his approach.

“This wasn’t the deal, Wheeler,” he says mildly, sitting down beside her.

She’s shivering.

Eddie tries very hard not to look at the trailer; it’s just a shell now, it’s just…

“Sorry,” Nancy says, too quiet. “I was… gonna call but. Lost track of time.” She sniffs, mumbles into her jeans, “Had enough of driving.”

“Why?” Eddie asks carefully.

“Because.” Nancy sniffs again. “I had to drive Jason Carver around town.”

For a moment, Eddie forgets how to breathe.

“What? Why the fuck would you even—? He could’ve—”

He stops talking abruptly as Nancy shakes her head, looking scarily calm about the whole thing.

“No. He would’ve killed you immediately. Not me; he’d have to think about it before he… It was… a calculated risk, I guess.”

Eddie barks out a sharp, fearful laugh—remembers Steve saying that him and Nancy were too similar and thinks yeah, no fucking kidding.

“Wheeler,” he breathes, “that was a stupid move.” It feels inadequate for what he actually means, which is some panicked stream of We’ve come too close to losing people, but the terror cuts down his words, makes them small. Stupid.

“He had a gun,” Nancy says, voice flat. She hovers a hand over her side, and Eddie doesn’t need to see it to know that there’ll be a mark there, from where the gun was pressed into her skin.

“Jesus Christ. Are you—”

“I’m fine. He didn’t…” Nancy sighs. “He didn’t do anything, really. I did most of the talking. Just… drove around. Stopped in a parking lot, right where one of the cracks… It’s still visible, only a little bit. Then I just. I asked him.”

“Asked him what?” Eddie says hoarsely.

Nancy’s smile is grim. “If he believed it,” she says. Her voice is as cold as steel. “If he could honestly sit there and think that a boy, that you could have done all this. And I could tell from his eyes that he didn’t, but that he was in too deep. Too cowardly to…” She seethes, spits out the next words: “I told him he could go rot.”

“Wheeler,” Eddie whispers. “God, please tell me he didn’t hurt you.”

She reaches for his hand. Squeezes. “No. I promise. He’s… everything’s being dealt with. It’s bigger than you,” she says, not unkindly. “Plus there’s—we’ve got some, um.” A tiny smile, a proper one. “Unique resources. It’s getting buried, Eddie, I swear, everything to do with you. I’m—we’re working on it. We just. The idea is to, um, replace one paranoia with another, that’s how we sell the—not a full lie, just…” She sets her jaw. “I don’t want you to be looking over your shoulder, ever again.”

Eddie has countless replies on his tongue, namely, What the fuck does all that even mean?

Is this why he’s hardly been given a second glance in the street?

Out loud, he says, “That… sounds like a helluva lot of work. You—you don’t have to—”

“I needed to.” Nancy smiles weakly. “That was the whole plan, right? Find Vecna, kill him. Clear your name.” Her smile falls. “I don’t like… I don’t like things being left… unfinished.” She sighs, repeats, voice small, “I needed to.”

It sounds different this time. Like if she didn’t have that objective, she’d fall apart.

It throws Eddie. How can he be that important? But he looks in her eyes and can tell she means it with all her heart. 

“Eddie, I…” She looks down at the ground. Briefly presses the back of her hand to her mouth. “I need to apologise to Steve. To you.”

Eddie stares at her. “No, I’m… kinda confident that you don’t.”

“No, you.” Her hand starts to shake in his. “You don’t understand.” She looks at him, eyes filled with tears. “I saw it. I saw everything. When he—when Henry showed me… there was so much of it, and it was so fast, and I. I just convinced myself that I was wrong. But then, when I saw you driving. And Steve. There was… this look on his face. And I knew—I knew he was going to die, because Henry… he showed me what he was going to do.”

Eddie can feel himself pale. Nancy withdraws her hand, turns away from him.

“I’m sorry. I thought I could stop it, if I just kept it in my head, it wouldn’t… oh, God.”

“Wheeler. Wheeler, look at me.” Eddie waits until she does, her face wet. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it.”

She moves forward, trembles in his arms. “God, Eddie,” she says, distraught, “it was awful. The whole thing.”

“Yeah.” Eddie leans his head against hers, shuts his eyes. “Fucking sucked.”

“You wouldn’t stop screaming,” Nancy whispers. She jerks her head over to where Eddie parked Steve’s car. “You fell there, and I—I was so scared you wouldn’t get up again. I told you that you had to let h-him go, and it. It was like you couldn’t hear me, and a-all I could think was I’m going to lose them both.” 

Eddie inhales. Exhales. She’d gotten him out. Time for him to return the favour.

“Nancy. Come on.” He gently guides her to stand up. “Time to go home, ‘kay?”

Mike’s waiting outside when Eddie drives up to the house; the headlights illuminate him, his too short dressing gown, his gangly teenaged vulnerability.

Nancy fumbles with the car door handle. Sighs through a sob. “Oh, Mike.”

Eddie watches them embrace, how they cling to one another. He sees Mike raise his hand while still holding onto his sister, sees him mouth Thank you.

Eddie doesn’t pull away until they’re both safely inside.

The fact that he’s driving Steve’s car helps him keep it together for the rest of the drive: the thought that he cannot be seen in public having a breakdown in it.

And then he’s back at Steve’s, and Steve is still asleep, thank God, and there’s an uncontrollable tremor to his hands when he sets Steve’s car keys on the table.

Shit, is he going to throw up? He might.

Oh no you don’t. You’re not waking Steve by upchucking onto the rug, get it together.

“You’re fine,” Eddie says, tugging harshly on his hair. “You’re fine, you’re fucking fine.”

He forces himself to breathe in and out as the wave of everything crashes over him, until he no longer sees the trailer park flash across his vision, like a ghostly afterimage.

When the worst of it is over, he perches on the arm of the couch, then carefully hovers his hand near Steve’s face, just so he can feel him breathing.

See? He’s right here, you’re not… not back there. Not anymore.

Steve stirs very slightly at the movement.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, still catching his breath through the remnants of panic.

Steve makes a soft, questioning noise. And then Eddie feels a finger, tracing letters on the back of his hand.

OK?

Eddie smiles tremulously. “Yeah, I-I’m… I am now.”

-

Eddie stays up all night.

It’s not so bad, not when he gets to see Steve wake up for his early morning meds, taken so he can have breakfast with the upcoming dose in a few hours.

“Huh? You’re never…” Steve yawns. His hair is soft from being air dried last night, falling into his eyes. “Never up this early. Not normally.”

“First time for everything,” Eddie says, which is easier than my heart was beating too fast to sleep.

Steve doesn’t call him out on the obvious dodge, still drowsy, growing even more so after he takes the pills.

“You bored? Can put something on if you want, but Dustin might’ve left a… a tape in the, um…”

Oh, there you go, Eddie thinks fondly, and watches as Steve falls asleep mid-sentence.

Some time later, he’s not sure when, the sun starts to poke through the curtains. It’s a dull kind of brightness, but still bright enough to make his eyes blink a little more… and more…

-

He’s been moved to lie on the inside of the couch. Eddie turns his head, feels the warmth of someone next to him. Steve.

“Hi,” Steve says, looking down at him with a smile. “You want some breakfast? Dustin dropped off doughnuts.”

There’s sugar at the corner of Steve’s mouth, like glitter.

Eddie hums, low and lethargic. “Maybe later. Just… mm.” He goes to rub at his eyes, but his hand stills then falls away from his face, a lassitude to his movements. “Five more minutes. Gotta… rest my eyes, just for…”

“Sure,” Steve says, and there’s affection in his teasing when he says, “You go ahead and ‘rest your eyes’ for a few more hours.”

“Mm…”

“Nance called,” Steve says, soft as anything, like he doesn’t want to wake Eddie if he’s already fallen asleep, but still wants him to know. “She’s okay. She says thanks.”

Eddie reaches out, eyes closed, pats Steve’s knee clumsily. “S’good.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, quiet. Eddie can feel him smoothing hair off his forehead, tracing his finger down his nose—makes it impossible for him to even try opening his eyes.

He barely catches it, nearly drifting… But he swears he hears Steve murmur, as if to himself, “You’re so good.”

“You’re warm,” Eddie mumbles without really meaning to.

Steve chuckles, so gently. Keeps stroking that soothing pattern, from Eddie’s brow down to his nose. “Am I now?”

Oh, you don’t know, Eddie thinks, and everything’s fading now, the world going all soft and indistinct, like cotton wool. You don’t know what it was like. I never want to feel you be that cold again.

[asimpforthe80s]

"I Really Miss You, Baby"

Starring: Eddie Munson and Y/N

Warnings: slight begging, mutual masturbation, slight angst? Tell me if I missed anything!

A/N: Mariah, I dunno if this meets your expectations but I tried, okay? Have a good day, angel!

The two of you had unfortunately been separated because of the Chrissy incident. Since Eddie couldn't risk being seen, you talked together on your walkie-talkies. But Eddie had a little.. problem.. so now, you were touching yourself to him stroking himself in the boathouse, where he hid. "Eddie.." you panted as you teased your clit. You wanted to see him so badly. To suck that magnificent cock of his. But you couldn't. The risk was too high.

"Yeah, baby?" He groaned into the walkie-talkie as he stroked his cock at a rapid pace.

You were both in a hazy state of mind at the moment.

The only thing that could be heard was your mutual panting, moaning, and whimpering, which made it easier for both of you to get off.

"I love you.. so- so fucking m-much.." the tone in your whiney voice made it clear to him that you were close, and so was he.

He groaned a small 'yeah, me too' as he started stroking himself even faster. You could hear the slick sounds coming from the other line, and it made you even wetter as you pumped your fingers in and out of yourself.

"S-so close, eds..!" You warned and kept fucking yourself, he just groaned in response.

Soon, you were both cumming and moaning each other's names.

Soon, Eddie whispered a small 'fuck' into the walkie-talkie and turned it off, it scared you a little as you thought the cops had found him.

"Eddie?" You whispered back. No response was to be heard, unfortunately. After about twenty minutes of silence, Eddie was in the clear, so he turned his walkie back on.

"I'm back, sweetheart.. don't worry, I'm okay.. are you okay?"

Eddie sounded concerned. "Yeah, I'm fine.. are you sure you're okay?.." You were really concerned about him. You had to know that he was okay. "Yeah.. yeah, I'm okay.. are you still there? Did you.. have a good time?"

Eddie was blushing hard. "Pft.. yeah.. even tho we are apart, we can still fuck.. and that's weird, but I like it." You answered with a small break. "But I'd rather have the real thing instead of my small fingers.." you complained. "Yeah.. me too.. but, you know we can't risk it.. yet.. I wanna wait until I know it's safe.."

Eddie sighed. He was really craving you. "Yeah.. we can't risk you getting in jail.. I can't lose you completely.." You agreed with a slightly sad tone in your voice. You missed each other, no doubt in that. ".. I really miss you, baby.. more than you think.."

Eddie groaned. "I know, eds.. me too.." you sighed. ".. I wish you were here right now.. so I could hold you.. kiss and caress you all over.. and make love to you all night.."

Eddie moaned. "Mh.. You still horny, huh?" You teased. "Extremely.." he chuckled.

"Are you?" You whined slightly. "Very.. we gotta clear your name soon so we can fuck, I swear to god.."

"Yeah, we do.. I'm so desperate to be with you again.. it's driving me crazy!"

Eddie sounded desperate now. "That's mutual, to say the least.."

"This may sound corny.. but I need you.. I need you.." You moaned a little at his words. You needed him just as badly. "Fuck, Eddie.. need you too.. can't take this.."

"I just.. I need you with me.." Eddie groaned. You nodded and quickly came to realize he couldn't see that. "Need to be in your arms.. promise me that you'll make me scream your damn name the whole night when we can see each other again.. please?" You begged him. "Yeah, I promise.. I'll make you scream all night. We're gonna make up for lost time, my little pumpkin.."

Eddie chuckled. "Promise..?" You whimpered, your need for him growing insanely bigger. "... Yeah, I promise.. I promise I'm gonna make you scream all night, like you asked for."

Eddie's tone shifted slightly. "It's getting late.. I love you, okay?.." you whispered and covered yourself with your blankets. "Love you too.. sleep tight, my pumpkin. I'll talk to you tomorrow.. okay?"

Eddie was clearly very tired. "Mhm.." You hugged the stuffed animal he had won for you tightly. Eddie ended the call and turned his walkie off. Eddie lay in the boat house, trying to fall asleep. He stared up at the ceilings and thought about his love, his little pumpkin..

"I just need her in my arms.. I need her to hold me.."

He sighed. And thoughts of you filled his mind as he fell asleep in the old boat, tears slowly flowing his brown eyes.

Tag list: @reidsbtch

[seth-whumps]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 5

Wheezing - whumpee Morrigan - 978 words

CW: panic attacks

--

There is something in their lungs.

Morrigan is not programmed to panic. Unless it's on command, or necessary for the sake of appearance, they are not supposed to freak out. A level head and calm tones are perfect for dangerous situations. It is part of what keeps them away from the company–that they function as intended. 

However, they are panicking. 

It feels like… spiderwebs. Like something has built a nest in their artificial chest and all of the fans and cooling systems have become cluttered with the dust of its new resident. It feels like they are choking.

Which is why they're now standing in front of Jace's apartment, with the key he gave to them not even a week prior.

They knock. An error flashes onto their vision. It's a warning, low oxygen content. Soon enough, their cooling system are going to start complaining too. Overheating is a problem.

This whole thing is a problem, and the feeling of discomfort in their chest is making their hands shake as they push the key into the lock.

Morrigan has no god but the ones that put them together. But they pray to whatever is out there to let Jace be at home.

“Woah, hey, terminator, what's–Morrigan? What's wrong?” Jace's face drops the moment he sees them. Concern is a rare expression for him, when he's speaking to them in particular.

They must be genuinely panicking now. “I can't breathe.”

“What? Come here, sit down, is it a technical thing? Why did you come to me?”

They are guided to the bed and the next breath they take is a horribly mechanical wheezing thing. But they run yet another diagnosis and their lungs are undamaged and unencumbered and they don't understand, they don't–

“Hey–Morrigan, you're psyching yourself out, you gotta relax.”

“I'm not supposed to–” they try to say, and their voice is glitched and wrong and they can feel Jace flinching away from him. “Sorry, I don't–know what's wrong.”

“You're alright. I think you're freaking out, is there something else? Did you check for, I dunno, a virus or some shit? Or–”

“No. Not a virus. Just.”

There’s nothing left to do. There are no errors. No abnormalities within their lungs, no differences in their cooling systems, but they cannot breathe and the only person there to help is someone who hates them more than anything else in the world.

Something grabs their hands.

At first they flinch, but the grip is strong and unmoving and grounding. Jace’s. He’s there. They are not alone.

“I don’t know how you breathe but I’ll give it my best shot, in for four beats, I’ll count. Come on. Hey. Breathe in for four.”

They try to follow. It catches, and wheezes out all in one breath, in one horrid mechanical jerk.

“Again. Let’s try again. One, two, three, four, good, you’re doing great, now hold it for seven counts. It’s okay. It’s alright.”

They don’t make it to seven, it rushes out of their lungs, but something in their head is clearing, somehow, and Jace doesn’t seem afraid anymore. Just concerned.

Concerned for them. That’s… new.

“Let’s go again. Good. Hold for seven counts, then breathe out for eight. You’re doing fantastic.”

The cycle continues. Jace’s hands stay tight around theirs, his eyes level and calm, his voice soothing something inflamed deep in their chest. He… cares. Cares enough. Why does he care? Jace has no stake in this, could have just let them die, let them suffocate at his doorstep like a broken machine.

“--why?” they finally say, once his calm demeanor has shifted to something more like pride.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he grins, all freckles and dimples and sunshine. “Why what? Why couldn’t you breathe? I think it was a panic attack, I get ‘em sometimes. It’s fine. Counting helps.”

“Why are you helping me?” 

It stumbles out like the wheezing of their breath, disjointed and hardly human. Jace doesn’t look away. He seems… the crook of his eyebrows, downturning of his shoulders, slight flush on his cheeks, he seems ashamed. Guilty. “I wasn’t gonna let you suffer, Morrigan. I’m not that bad.”

“You hate me,” they say, simply. 

He huffs. “No, I don’t. I’m just… human. Messy. Complicated. I don’t like change, you’re a new thing, it’s complex. I’m sorry I made you think that.”

They try to see past the lie. To put together the pieces of the past, the glares, the imbalance, how Morrigan would push down their own posture to give him the head of the scene, to give him all of the power in play, but for all of their training, they cannot deny the truth. Jace Vela Journey is telling them the truth.

“I’m sorry I scare you,” Morrigan manages. “I don’t–I tried not to, but it’s not easy when people know what I am.”

“It’s fine. You just came into my house hyperventilating. Seems pretty human to me.”

Morrigan can’t help the eyebrow raise. That’s the first time anyone has referred to them as human-like outside of the purpose they’re built for, the tool they have to be. “If that’s human, I am sorry for every single one of you.”

Jace just laughs. “So are we, Morri. That’s pretty universal. You should take a break though, it’s not like you’re fine now. Just relax.”

“What did you call me?” 

“Uh.” Jace winces. “Morri? Like Morrigan shortened? If that’s not cool, I get it, I’ll go back to giving you robot nicknames–”

“It’s fine,” Morrigan is quick to reassure. “I don’t mind. It’s new, but not unwelcome.”

“Cool. Call me JJ, then?” 

It feels like a truce. A contract. When their alliance breaks a little bit from tenuousness and into something stronger. “Alright, JJ. Thank you.”

He grins, flashes a thumbs up. “Don’t mention it. Take your shoes off, stay a while.”

--

a teensy insight into their rocky relationship starting to fix itself. also origin of the nicknames!!!