#why would I ever love a giant cat monster?

[lemonzst]

CLOSE UP

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Ngl, you were one of the first tumblr blogs that awakened the monsterfucker in me, did not ever expect I would be here, uhh I love your work especially the alien pet one!! Anyways uhhhh can I request an NSFW cannibalistic giant x human reader, can be any gender, idk if this classifies as monster or not idk??

Sorry this took so long!

(Requests still closed, old request)

*NSFW* Yandere!Cannibalistic Giant x GN!Reader

Short drabble CW: death, abduction, animal death, no lemon just lime, non con touching, NSFW, hands-free orgasm

"Stop ignoring me."

Numb and silent, the abducted human sat as motionless as a living corpse. They had fought back for the first few weeks, crying and begging for their life, attempting escapes whenever they thought they had an opening, but now (Reader) understood that they truly had no hope of ever leaving the giant's side alive, and it killed them before he had a chance to.

When the campsite was attacked, they watched as their friends were torn apart, limbs easily ripped off of their bodies and devoured right in front of them. In the roulette of fight, flight, or freeze, (Reader) threw themselves at the monsters mindlessly, despite being barely thigh height in comparison. They stabbed one of the giants with a barbeque poker, but it barely pierced his thick flesh. He didn't even let out a sound of pain; it was like (Reader) had thrown a pillow at him and not attempted to spear him.

The fiery haired giant (Reader) had attacked picked them up by the back of their shirt like a cat, examining them long enough for their adrenaline to dissipate.

Shockingly, he did not eat them like he did their friends.

Instead the bloody giant hoisted (Reader) over his shoulder and left his brethren to continue the carnage.

For weeks the traumatized human sat by the giant's side, inescapable. He never hurt them, but threatened them nearly every day.

"If you try to run again, I'll bite your legs off."

"Such a pretty little human; I'm sure you taste just as good as you look."

"When I finally scalp you, your hair will make a fine necklace."

It became monotonous, the threats of harm and death, so when the young adult finally cracked, the words didn't startle them into reacting, even when he escalated his taunts.

"I told you to stop ignoring me." He warned, grabbing his victim under the arms like a child and raising them up to eye level. (Reader) felt as though they couldn't will themselves to care. Their life was already over: there was no hope.

He opened his mouth as wide as he possibly could, and slowly placed his captive's head inside. When he couldn't feel them squirm he slid them in deeper until his teeth scraped their collar bone and upper shoulder blades. His teeth gently dug into their skin. It was supposed to be intimidating, a reminder that at any moment he could and would eat them, but when he still couldn't feel them move he pulled them back out, his eyebrows knitted together in what was either concern or disappointment.

A loud chuckle rumbled like thunder from another giant who had been watching with amusement from across the way. "Uh oh, Pinyon! Looks like you broke your new toy!"

The abductor harrumphed before carrying (Reader) somewhere private, grumbling out a venomous sounding "They aren't my toy.."

In the seclusion of his tent, he suddenly had a change of attitude, acting in a way he had never done before. He pressed his face against their stomach while holding their back in a fashion that felt like a caress. Tears formed out of confusion at the seemingly tender action. They had already accepted their death, so why was he hugging them?

"Interesting little one.." the giant's voice vibrated across their abdomen. "Please do not ignore me.."

When he was a child, Pinyon found a squirrel that had fallen out of a tree. He didn't know what was wrong with the animal, but it seemed injured, and it sounded like it was struggling to breathe. Meat was meat. It didn't matter what the meat was, everything the tribe found was food for them, whether it was animal or human. However, this wasn't a conquest, it wasn't a fight. It was his first struggle. The poor thing was struggling.

Pinyon picked up the little creature, unsure of why his chest felt so heavy. The thing bit him. It didn't hurt, and it didn't anger him. It made him happy. To see it fight back. The action showed Pinyon that the squirrel was still alive, and that it was going to be fine. He cared for the squirrel as tenderly as a human cared for a pet dog; bringing it food and gently trying to nurse it.

Then, the squirrel died.

That was it. He went to feed it, and it was limp. There was no sound, no blood, it just stopped.

When you're raised to eat whatever is given to you, when you're told that "meat is meat", it's easy to forget that the creatures screaming for mercy are alive.

He didn't know why, it wasn't the first time someone had fought back, and it wasn't his first human kill..

But the look on the little human's face as they leapt out at him with a pitiful excuse for a weapon reminded him of that squirrel.

"It doesn't matter if you hate me, or if you're scared of me. Even if it's to scream at me, don't ignore me."

The brief kindness was over in a second, the confusion and hope leaving (Reader's) body as quickly as it came. Just as the tears began to form and the weight lifted off their shoulders the giant squeezed them closer to his face and breathed in deeply. Wearing only their tattered undergarments, his breath felt hot against their bare stomach. It was an intimate gesture that gave birth to a new kind of fear, one that (Reader) hadn't previously considered.

His wet tongue left his mouth and poked their gut.

It wasn't the first time he had tasted them, but there were no promises of pain and consumption this time; instead there was a half lidded expression on his face that made (Reader) instinctively clamp their thighs shut.

Their hands flew to his face as they pathetically attempted to push him away with all of their strength. But the struggle seemed to excite him more, as he began licking their stomach more intensely, planting kisses along the tops of their pelvis as he traveled lower down their body.

"STOP!" (Reader) cried out as they bruised their fists on his forehead. Their body was quivering involuntarily as his drool began to mix with their sweat, dripping down towards their underwear. Pinyon's lips were too close to their last shred of apparel, and they felt shame as his breath tickling their body felt physically pleasurable.

"Is this what I need to do now-" his words agitated their sensitive body, making them arch their back in an attempt to put distance between is mouth and their crotch, "-so you'll stop ignoring me?"

(Reader) loudly sobbed, knowing that he could see how wet their clothing had become. It wasn't because he was attractive, or because they wanted him. The way he was holding them, the warm words hitting their lower half, it stained their underwear with arousal. The abductee wanted to beg him to look away, to explain that it wasn't him, that they weren't turned on. But only sobs came out as his sharp teeth slid into the underpants' belt line and tore their last line of defense down to their ankles.

[razzdazzledoo]

How do you feel about people roleplaying as MX?

Alright everyone, sit down. I've been waiting for this moment.

Welcome to

RAZZDAZZLEDOO'S QUICK GUIDE TO WRITING MX!!

For those who wanna be in-line with the character while still having the freedom of not being canon.

So first things first, let's get the ground basis with MX.

MX does what he does for the reactions it brings, that kinda stuff is his entertainment. So he plans ahead, hoping to find the best snowball effect for the strongest look of terror on people's faces.

Though he doesn't plan THAT much, he gets a ground base and then improvises the rest of it so it's hard to plan ahead against him.

He's also not meant to be intimidating all the time either, his playmates will get bored if it's the same song and dance so he plays into other personalities to throw them off.

When their guard's down? He strikes while the iron's hot. And that makes them terrified even more.

Second, how he interacts with other people.

It ultimately depends on what the other person's like. Are they exactly like him? Do they have the potential to be? Or are they like Lucas where they clearly fear him?

Those kinda aspects will play into the chemistry MX can have with a person. He's best friends with Executable M and Mr. Virtual for a reason, they're just like him in the sense of 'tormenting for their own entertainment' along with whatever goals they have.

If they show fear, he'll play into it. He'll show them reasons to fear him, and then the next moment deceive them into believing there's some good in his heart. Only to then tear down those chances, and watch them crumble.

"What if I wanna ship my MX roleplay with someone?"

You have the freedom to do that, don't let me restrict you from having fun. I'll provide how he would, in-character, respond to romance. But I wanna get some rules down first.

Do not be sexual with him. That kinda shit makes me incredibly uncomfortable, not to mention I don't see him ever showing interest to the thought.

Do not ship him in problematic scenarios. This can include: People in the victim role, like MX took their soul and put them in a vessel; Characters who are directly stated to be minors; And characters that use Luigi's likeness. I outright forbid this and will not hesitate to block you if I see it.

Build up to it. MX obviously isn't going to know what the hell a "relationship" is, he's never entertained the idea and so it's going to take some time for him to learn. He's gonna have to figure out why he feels the way he does around that specific person, whether with their guidance or not.

He knows that humans can feel love, and how they respond to it, since he's been around since the universe's creation; but he personally doesn't know much on the subject.

When he realizes he's actually capable of love, he's not gonna know how to respond to it. He might even outright avoid the person he feels those emotions to since he has not an iota of knowledge with relationships.

If your interpretation of MX has an actual friendship with other muses, and he gets along greatly, he might go to them about it as a show of trust and they can help him figure it out.

Otherwise, he'd try and leave "gifts" for his special someone. Like a cat bringing you a dead bird, for comparison. Most of his gifts are eldritch abominations though, like a smaller version of one of his clouds in his world as an example.

On the other hand, if his special someone went to him first about pursuing a relationship and he does feel love towards them as well; He'd go along with it, essentially being a big giant teddy bear for them if he thinks it'd be funny enough.

If someone tries to pursue a relationship with him and he feels no attraction, he just kinda messes with them about it. Poking fun that they'd fall in love with a monster like him, who'd never love them back.

There's no canon MX ship, I just personally lean more towards Powerforest since it's a comfort ship of mine.

"What are some other tips?"

If your interpretation of MX can frown, make it have impact. That brute smiles all the time, regardless of the situation; So if he frowns, that's gonna have to mean something.

Canonically if MX frowns, he's locked in. He's not gonna waste time playing around, he wants you DEAD.

Don't be afraid to be silly sometimes.

It'd get awful boring real quick if MX was one-dimensional in a roleplay scenario, having something like that can give him way more depth and I encourage it.

You don't need to follow this guide exactly, but please still be respectful of the boundaries I expressed in here.

This is not meant to be a rulebook on how to write MX, you still have the freedom to write him how you feel most comfortable with writing him. This is just how I go about writing the character in my own spaces.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

SO works at an animal shelter and our skeleton walks in once and is now ever animal in the shelters favorite person

SO is really jealous

Undertale Sans - Well sorry not sorry about that. What can he say? He's very popular. You told him you were concerned about what type of skeleton he is. Now it's pretty clear he must be some kind of gigantic sloth skeleton or something. Every animal wants to nap on him.

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus is actually a little overwhelmed by all the dogs around him. He doesn't know who he hasn't pet yet and it's stressing him out knowing one dog might feel less loved than the other ones. He doesn't care about what you think right now, he's too focused on trying to understand why terrible people would abandon such sweet babies. By the end of the day, he's asking you to adopt one.

Underswap Sans - He swears he did nothing, stop looking at him like that! He didn't even know that guinea pigs, which are neither from guinea or pigs, were a thing! He's lying in the enclosure, entirely covered with guinea pigs and he's not regretting anything. They're all squishy!

Underswap Papyrus - If I were you, I wouldn't be jealous about that. You should worry about how the hell you're going to convince your giant golden retriever of a boyfriend to go home without his 150 new dog babies. Honey never wants to leave again. That's his people. What do you mean he can't take all of them home? You can't let them sleep in this horrible place in the dark! That's abuse! What is they cry and no one hears them? D: He's devastated when you drag him out of there, begging you to at least take one home or he could never forgive himself lol. He's going to guilt trip you for weeks to get his fourth dog and he's not going to change his mind so good luck with that.

Underfell Sans - He's a bit uncomfortable, a lot of parrots on his arms and on his head. He doesn't understand why you're mad, he's literally terrified to move right now. Please take them back? Red is not exactly an animal person, not with birds at least, and he's a little confused right now. He's not sure how to escape this situation.

Underfell Papyrus - What? You're jealous? Good! He's a volunteer in a rescue as well and he told you he had a nice touch with the cats. Now you can see how true this is because he is clearly the best in all he does. Cry like a loser while he pets all the cats like an epic villain. Don't you know cats prefer scary people because they are better at protecting them from predators? You swear he just invented that. You're so mad.

Horrortale Sans - Well, you saw how the animals are all attracted to him in the farm so it's not a bit surprise all the dogs and cats are dying to come to see him. Even the most fearful dogs are all crawling on his lap to get affection. He just sits in the dog playroom while you work and have fun with the little furbabies. You wish you could do the same.

Horrortale Papyrus - He acts smug and silly because he likes to tease you, but you can see he's actually really happy about that. He didn't have that much love in a long time and even if it's little rabbits and not humans or monsters, he's happy. He even sits on the floor to stay with them and it's quite a while now, to the point you're a bit concerned about his back. But he's too happy to disturb him for now. He can have that moment.

Swapfell Sans - You can't believe it honestly. Chinchillas only choose one special person and somehow it's Nox. You wanted to be their special person! That's so unfair, you're trying to socialize them for weeks! Nox acts like he doesn't care and all but you surprise him by searching the internet to see what he needs to buy to take care of chinchillas. He's not asking you by the way. He's taking them home.

Swapfell Papyrus - You stop watching him for two minutes and then he comes in the room holding a huge raccoon in his hands and asks you to adopt him. You're so confused. There's literally no raccoon in your shelter??? Where the hell did it come from??? Rus is very proud of himself though. And he's definitely getting home with that thing, either you say yes or no. He's ready to squeeze it in his ribcage.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Wine is not happy. He has cat hair everywhere on his handmade suit and he's slowly dying inside. He hates cats. He hates all animals really, why the hell are they clinging to him like that? He's distressed and keeps staring at his S/O intensely to have some help. Unfortunately, you're way too amused to come and save him. It's rare to see Wine lose his mind.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - You let him have his fun. Coffee is crying right now, buried under a pile of big dogs. He's a bit overwhelmed and can't control his feelings anymore. All you can see are his two arms, trying to hug as many dogs as he can. He's never getting out of the pile. It's the best day of his life.

[delphi-shield]

a lover's guide to defusing time bombs // leon s. kennedy

Leon x afab!Reader Smut wc: 5,661 mdni - 18+

i'm having technical difficulties help why is this fic such a problem child. bout to give up and send it to the dumpster. shout out to tumblr support for fixing this yay my stupid smut is in the tags now. loosely proofread and edited. merry christmas xoxo

summary: Leon doesn’t love crowds. He hates them, actually, but he’s braving the annual Christmas parade for you. Ever vigilant, he scans for threats, ensures the giant clydesdales aren’t secretly agents of chaos, narrows his eyes to be absolutely positive that Santa isn’t concealing a weapon. You have got to find a way to make him relax.

content: afab!reader, mindless fluff, leon’s pov, vague depiction of an anxiety attack, discussions of leon’s mental health, established relationship, secular celebration of christmas, chestnuts roasting on an open fire (literally), leon’s dissociating through a lot of this, fingering (reader receiving), piv (reader receiving), doggy, a singular spank (reader receiving), use of toys (reader receiving), creampie, switchy leon & reader. the smut starts about halfway through if that’s what you’re here for.

Life with Leon can be divided up neatly into ‘Can't’ and ‘Won’t’.

He had crawled home to you at five in the afternoon, fresh off an assignment in Manhattan. He can’t tell you the details, all wrapped up in red tape, and he won’t let you get acquainted with the new ghosts that will haunt the darkened corners of your apartment. You're dozing so soundly in the living room. Prettiest thing he’s ever come home to, curled up under a blanket, colorful lights of the Christmas tree warming your skin. His hands are cold and battered when they brush against your forehead, smirch your warm skin with the grime that never washes off his skin.

He’s torn between waking you and letting you rest. He needs the rest himself, and it would be so easy to pick up your sleeping form and lay you back down against his chest, to drift off into a nap in the glow of the Christmas tree.

But he won’t break a promise to you, not if he doesn’t have to. He promised to take you to see the Christmas parade - and for once, he’s actually back in time to make good on his word.

Leon checks his watch. Back in time, but not by much. The parade starts in an hour. He rouses you, a strong hand gentle on your shoulder. It’s almost meditative, watching the way you wake. The way you take your time, curling into yourself like a cat before you finally unfurl, the slow blink of your eyes struggling to focus. You’re here. You’re safe. You don’t jolt awake the way that he does. You don’t jerk at his touch. You’re safe from the monsters that stalk him. For once, he’s kept something safe.

Leon came back from Spain a little different, but he can’t- and won’t - tell you jack about shit, as usual. He’s not sure if he’s changed for the better or the worse. There’s moments where the light is back in his eye, where all his jagged edges seem to soften. It’s the first time he’s ever come back from a ‘business trip’, as he likes to call them, and been able to say he’d done something good. Something worthwhile, beyond the nebulous concept of his servitude - something tangible. A life saved, not a country served.

The light’s dim today, but it shines when your eyes lock onto him. You light up, every ounce of weariness fleeing your body at the sight of him. You rocket forward. Your arms are tight and warm around his neck, and he rocks backward at the force of your affection. A laugh passes his lips, pressed into the top of your head along with a kiss.

“I could get used to that greeting,” he says when you part. Not all the way, of course. Your hand rests on his wrist, desperate for the contact. Like you think he might float away if you don’t keep him grounded.

“You better not,” you warn him, the seriousness in your tone as convincing as it is menacing - not at all.

He urges you to get up and get ready. You’re going to miss the parade. Probably missed most of the craft fair already, but he’s privately glad that you hadn’t gone without him. An ache opens up in his chest to think of you going alone.

“We don't have to go,” you assure him. It must be the fifth time you’ve tried to give him an out. You’re hopping on one foot, trying to stuff your feet into your warm boots, but he still recognizes the guilt in your eyes. He’s felt it many times himself, and he’s tired of seeing that part of himself reflected in your eyes. He won't make you feel like you’re stealing time away from him ever again.

“I promised.” He adjusts your scarf for you once you’ve stopped hopping. There was nothing wrong with the way you had it done. It’s just another excuse to touch you. He needs those. He needs reasons, real or invented. Touch has never been easy for him the way it has been for you.

Ushering you into the car is easy. You don’t put up any real resistance, other than babbling about how you don’t mind driving, honest, because he must be so tired. What he feels goes so far past tired that it wraps back around into restlessness, but he won’t tell you that. It seems like the sort of thing that would make you worry more, not less. Besides - he wants to watch you from the corner of his eye while he drives. He wants to see your head sway gently to the Christmas carols on the radio. He wants you to point out overdecorated houses and coo over Christmas decorations.

Leon needed this. He missed it, the peaceful quiet between the two of you. It doesn’t last terribly long. When you see how awful the parking situation is downtown, you burst into complaints. He doesn’t mind those either, the ghost of a smile glued to his lips while he drives circles around every parking lot in a four block radius.

He has to parallel park - something that makes you so nervous that you grip his arm while he wedges into the parking spot. Sure, he turns a three-point turn into something closer to a 36-point turn, but the important part is, he didn’t hit anyone. Besides - he kinda likes it when you cling to him like that.

He likes it more than the way you’re watching him, that’s for sure. You look like you’re waiting for him to fall apart. In fact, he’s not sure you’re even trying to hide your worry this time, got your heart bleeding on your sleeve for everyone to see. You take his hand clumsily, your movements big and ungainly in your mittens, and guide him through downtown.

It gets worse when you actually arrive at the parade route. The whole damn city must be out tonight. Families with gaggles of children, some sat on their father’s shoulders, carolers struggling to be heard over the noise of the crowd. Your hand squeezes his. He fights down his irritation. He knows it’s irrational. He doesn’t want to take it out on you.

It’s just a lot.

Leon likes to walk around with his head held high, pretending that he has no long-lasting quirks from his career. He can handle it. That’s the kind of man he is. He doesn't think less of you for how little you can carry in return. His shoulders are broad, he reminds you. He can carry what you can’t - hell, he feels useless when you don’t let him.

You can see it in the way his eyes never stop roving, the way his fingers curl near his hip – he knows you can. You’re more perceptive than he gives you credit for. Might wear your heart out for everyone to see, but you’re observant as all hell. He keeps a hand glued to the curve of your waist, keeps his head on a swivel for all threats, real and imagined.

He’s just being cautious, he tells himself. There’s nothing wrong with being aware of your surroundings. Especially not in a big crowd like this. His trained mind whirls. It throws him off-kilter. He’s not on the clock, but he’s acting like it. Big celebrations like this are perfect targets for terrorists looking to make a statement.

There’s a rolodex in his head filled to the brim with the kinds of intel that would make you never want to step outside again. He can’t tell you that - not just for the sake of national security, but for the sake of your peace of mind.

You say something - something about a vendor, your hand pointing across the street. His head moves first, humming acknowledgement he doesn’t mean, his eyes following slow to see what you’re looking at. No clue. You’re looking at him expectantly, arm tucked in the crook of his, so he just nods, agrees aimlessly.

Leon’s all wrapped up in his head, standing shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the crowd, staring down at himself from above. Float after float goes by - horses, a flock of sheep decked out in festive trimmings, shepherded by a gaggle of men and boys dressed in anachronist robes - and he’s pretty sure he saw an actual, honest-to-god reindeer, but the static spreading from his mind to his limbs turns everything around him into a nauseating blur.

“Hey.” You nudge him with an elbow, tucking your scarf below your chin. “C’mon.”

Your words seem so muffled. He’s starting to wonder if that action hero lifestyle is already catching up to him. He’s got to get his damned ears checked. You curl your hand around his bicep and urge him away from the crowd.

He’s too slow to think to protest. You had wanted to see the parade. He can’t take this away from you, not when you had been so excited. The guilt claws at his heart. He tugs your hand to pull you back toward the crowd, but you dig your heels in and give him this stern look that all but forces him to yield. You drag him down a quieter street, where vendors are packing their things up, the crowds having fled to watch the parade. 

If he could know your thoughts, he’d know you wished to press your thumb gently against the well of his eye and swipe away the darkness that hangs there, press a kiss to his bruised skin and watch his blush paint over the hurt. You press a hot chocolate into his hands instead. The warmth spreads through his gloves.

For a long moment, Leon just holds the drink in his hands. He rolls the paper cup back and forth, back and forth, walks with you as you pace the street. You pause to speak with a woman standing over an open grill.

The scent pulls him back to earth. He lifts the cup of hot chocolate to his face and inhales deeply. Sweet and chocolatey, Leon knows it’s probably Swiss Miss bought in bulk for the sole purpose of being handed out to parade-goers. He takes a sip, lets the cheap, watered down hot chocolate warm him. The noise of the parade is far away now, not just in his mind but in reality. The bells and the carols, the clop of hooves on cobblestone, it stays muted, but it doesn’t threaten to overwhelm him anymore.

His hand squeezes yours. You don’t stop speaking with the woman, but your eyes cut towards him, and your smile bright - a beacon that says welcome back.

For the first time, he realizes how cold his hands are. He slips the hand not holding the hot chocolate into the pocket of your jacket. He knows you’ve got a handwarmer in there. Lo and behold, he’s right. Your pocket may as well be heated.

Another scent stands out to him. His eyes focus on the dying embers still glowing faintly in the belly of the grill. An earthy, nutty smell drifts up to him. You’ve got something in your hands, he realizes - round little balls, their dark brown shells split and cracked, light golden interior peeking through.

You wave, say goodbye to the vendor, and tug him down the street - in the vague direction of the car, he realizes. Another stab of guilt. You’d wanted to see this parade so badly. He knows why you’re leaving.

“Try it,” you chirp, cheeks darkened by the cold air. You tip your hand towards his, drop one of the little nuts you're carrying into his hand. You smile so brightly, like you don’t realize that he’s ruined this for you. “It should be cool enough now.”

“What is it?” He asks, rolling it in his palm.

“A roasted chestnut. S’really good!” He looks over at you, fighting the urge to laugh. You’re already chewing the damn thing. He watches you slip the shell off of another chestnut.

“What are you, five? Close your mouth when you eat.” He bumps your shoulder with his, no heat behind his words.

He slips the shell off the chestnut, the way he had watched you do moments before. He pops it into his mouth and makes a noise of surprise. He’d expected it to be hard and crunchy, but it’s soft - buttery, almost. Sweet, in the same way as a sweet potato. He holds his hand out for another, and you drop it into his palm, chuckling triumphantly to yourself.

The walk back to his car is near silent, trading chestnuts and jabs back and forth. The restlessness that had filled his limbs earlier has melted into a sleepy, dull-edged tiredness that wears at his bones. He opens your door for you, guides you inside with a hand at the small of your back.

He wants to apologize. It’s all Leon can think about while he’s trying to get out of this goddamn parking spot. It takes him long enough. He’s crafting a script in his head. He knows exactly what he has to say.

But when you’re finally back on the road, he’s speechless. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, laden with the sweetness of the chestnuts and oily against his teeth. He can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips again, the road melting away as he guides you home by muscle memory alone.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

God, you’re an angel, breaking the silence like that. He glances over at you, the pounding of his heart quieting in his ears at the sight of your smile, your eyes soft and your hair messed. Your hat lays in your lap, your mittens peeled off and tossed to god-knows-where for him to find later on.

Leon nods. He feels like kicking himself. How the hell did he ever pull you? 

After a too-long silence, he says, “No problem. Sorry. For, uh –”

For making us leave. For ruining this. For not having my shit together.

You’re too nice to think any of those things about him. He knows that. That doesn’t mean Leon doesn’t think it about himself.

“Don’t worry about it. I had fun. Besides, I kinda wanted to spend time with you, anyway. Just you.”

He looks to you at a stoplight, tries to gauge if there’s any irritation hidden under your expression. You settle your hand on his knee. You smile blithely out the window, your eyes catching his in the reflection, crinkling at the corners when you smile wider. His heart pounds again - not panic, but a warm, comfortable squeeze.

He can’t believe he’s this lucky.

“We could watch a Christmas movie,” he offers. A small balm for the hurt he feels he’s caused.

You hum. Indifferent. You turn your head back to him as the light turns green, your hand sliding up to his thigh and squeezing. It sends a thrill through his gut, his breath catching. He wasn’t away that long, but it felt like forever without your touch.

“I was kinda thinking we could just hang out,” you say, your voice deceptively innocent. “I missed you.”

The car behind him honks. He wrests his thoughts out of the gutter, forces himself to actually drive. Your hand stays on his thigh, drifts even higher, your little laugh flushing all the blood out of his head.

“That’s, uh – yeah. Fantastic.”

The drive home is a blur. He tries to make conversation, honest to God, he does, but you’re so damn distracting. You know it, too. He can see that sadistic little twinkle in your eye. He’s lucky you’ve got enough mercy in you not to tease him while he drives. You’ve already got him wrapped around your finger, you have to know that by now.

Leon practically jumps out of the car. He should be embarrassed by the way you have him hopping around like some horny virgin. You slip out of the car with much more grace and press yourself to his side. His arm wraps around your waist, finds a way to tug you even closer while he fumbles with his keys.

The door is barely open, and you’re on him. He doesn't even have time to strip his jacket off before you press yourself against him. You urge his back against the door, shutting it with a thud. Your hands roam all over him, shucking his jacket off and letting it pool on the floor. Your lips press to his, trading the taste of hot chocolate and chestnuts. You move to his neck. His gasps are barely restrained. His pulse races under your touch. His head rocks back, smacks against the door and he groans. You chuckle, take his hand and pull him further into the apartment.

The backs of your knees hit the couch and he takes the invitation to tip you over the edge, his body covering yours without a moment of hesitation. Your lips are back on his skin, tongue laving a hot path wherever you can reach. Greedy. He shudders against the hands that grip his sides. 

"Not too tired?" You ask between kisses. Your teeth nip at the thin skin of his neck and his breath damn near stops. He should tell you to quit. It's not professional. He's gonna show up to his next briefing covered in hickeys and then everyone will know how good Kennedy is getting it at home. He's not sure he minds. He thinks he wants everyone to know just how fucking good he's got it.

"No way," he says, his voice lighter than he meant. He wanted to sound gravely, masculine - instead he sounds like he's about to cum his pants. Goddamn, the things you do to him.

"How do you want it?"

Oh, so it's up to him now? He wishes you'd take the choice from him. You press your hips up against him and, fuck, he wishes you'd take everything from him.

You pull back, your lips leaving his skin, and the chill settles over him again, the distance between you too much for him to handle. His hands grip your hips, slide under you and tug you into him so you can feel the way his cock fills out his jeans. It's hot and tight and goddammit, he wants to be in you - in a better kind of hot and tight rather than this denim prison that's fucking killing him.

You press your hand to his shoulder, force the distance. You level him with a look, like a school teacher discipling a naughty student. (Hot. Gonna have to keep that one in mind, if he ever works the nerve up to ask you to try some roleplay. He’ll bet you could really wreak havoc with a ruler, rap it across his knuckles -- better yet, his ass, let the sting spike over his skin. Make him indignant or obedient - he won't know what sort of mood he's in until he's there.)

You're waiting for an answer. That much is clear. No more love bites until he speaks up. You're a dead weight in his arms and he knows how to make you come to life again.

He sits back on his thighs, hands turning you. "Face in the cushions."

"You got the energy for that?"

You don't even mean to be a brat, he’s sure. It's not an honest challenge. You just sound genuinely surprised. He nods. He's got all the energy for the world if it means being with you.

That gets you moving at least. You squirm under him, limbs awkward and trapped between his thighs. He peels you out of your jeans and rolls his eyes when he sees you've got a second pair of pants underneath.

"It was cold out!" You protest, raising your hips to help him get the layers off.

"It's not that cold out. You got long johns on under these, too?"

"Keep this up and you won't find out."

That shuts him up.

His stomach lurches, arousal hot and tight from the way you're swinging your hips at him. He fumbles with his belt, unwraps himself and tosses the packaging off to the side, where it lands under the tree with the rest of the presents. His fingers tease along your slit, nudging the wet patch you've left along your panties. He wants to bury his nose in you, surround himself with your scent and your taste, shake his head and burrow as deep as he can get.

But when his fingers curl under the elastic of your waistband, you click your tongue. He stills, frozen by your directive.

"Can you ask nicely?"

He wants to scoff. Impatience and irritation are bubbling in his gut, but your demand makes his cock twitch and he could have sworn he felt his fucking balls draw up.

"Please." He drones, fingers tugging at your panties.

"You can do better than that."

"I could just leave you here."

He's not going to do that. You both know that’s an empty threat. Leon grips the fullness of your ass, squeezes it under his palm. His hand draws back quick, a sharp smack filling the room. He hears you muffle your squeal into the cushions. He sees your fingers clench, sees you drag the nearest pillow closer, hugging it to your chest. So easy.

"Ask." That's not a request. It's a demand. You're doing your best to sound tough, your face buried in the pillow, ass still wagging at him like a bitch in heat. He hums, weighs his options.

"Can I fuck your pussy?" He presses his chest to your back, lets you feel the weight of him. You've told him so many times how you like that- you like the feeling of him surrounding you. You like being trapped under his weight, the way he pins you down. His cock strains against your clothed pussy. He wraps an arm around your waist, skims his hand up your chest, in the valley between your tits. His thumb strokes over a peaked nipple, plucks it to a point, and pinches. "Please. I'll make you cum first."

If the way your back arches is any indication, that may just have been the selling point.

"Gonna cum inside?"

"We'll see."

That must be your final straw. He's pushed you too far. You turn your head, cheek cushioned cutely against the couch.

"You cum inside or not at all." Your voice is firm, dark. He wishes he hadn't been so adamant on pressing against you, because he knows you felt the way his cock kicked. He sees your lips twist into a smirk.

Leon's in no mood to wipe it off your face. His baby wanted him to stuff that pretty pussy, who was he to argue? Give him five minutes to recharge, he'll paint your back, too. Maybe your chest.

His lips press to the back of your shoulder. The fingers pinching your nipple relent. He strokes your breasts reverently instead.

"Okay," he agrees, breathless. "Inside."

Your eyes linger on him, watching to see how serious he is. He does his best to look honest. His fingers smooth over his harsh touches, the devotion pouring from his fingertips. You grab his wrist, bring his hand to your mouth and wet his fingers for him, drink it down.

He leans back just enough to squirm his hand underneath the soaked fabric of your panties, slick fingers parting your folds again and again, pressing deeper each pass.

The way you sigh makes his gut tighten and squirm. He dips his fingers in you, the first sliding in so smooth that he adds the second after the first pump. His mouth lathers the nape of your neck with kisses, his breath hot and terse against your skin. Try as you might to seem unaffected, he sees the way that your skin pricks. 

Leon sets a steady pace, works you up to three fingers. Gotta get you ready for him – though the way you moan and rock, you clearly needed this more than you let on.

"Vibrator's in the drawer." He knows a command when he hears one. Doesn't have to be told twice. His superiors always liked that about him, and you appreciate it too. He commits the way your voice quivers to memory, banks that one for his nights away. He leans back, opening the drawer of the side table. He doesn't even question it until it's on and humming in his hand.

"The side table, huh..?"

Leon’s voice wobbles with laughter. That's not where this little guy usually lived. His fingers resume their pace, pumping into you steadily. He presses the head of the vibrator just above your clit, watches the way that you squirm. He can't take much more of this, not when he sees your pretty, kiss swollen lips part and hears you moan like that.

“Got lonely without you,” you admit. Your voice drives him insane, heat pulsing through him with every pump of his heart. Got that airy, whiny quality to it, your thighs quivering like you aren't sure whether to squirm away or chase after all the sensation.

He crooks his fingers inside you, feels you squeeze him and pulse. His cock aches. You bury your face into the pillows to smother the way you moan his name. He needs another hand. He needs fist his hand in your hair and drag you up so he can hear you cry his name over and over.

Not now. Later. Focus, Leon. Your pussy's got him high, lost in the pull of your body. He keeps the vibrator firm to your body, doesn't let you run from the way he’s making you feel. Your back bows, chest pressing to the couch, and he chases you down, lips smattering you neck with sloppy kisses, nipping at your skin, encouraging you with sighed praises – “There you go, baby, just like that, let go, I got you, just let go, cum for me –” and the pride he feels when you shake under him, squeeze his fingers to hard he’s surprised he still has circulation, has him panting.

Goddamn. You’re dripping down his arm, pussy squelching so obscenely around his fingers. He lifts the vibrator away from your clit to give you a break, turns it down just enough to keep you wound up. Doesn’t want it to hurt - not this time.

"I have to be inside you," he groans. You whine, legs spreading wider. Your knee slips off the couch, and rather than put it back up, you brace your foot against the floor to stay spread for him.

"Yeah," you breathe out. Poor baby. That's all you can manage, isn't it?

He shoves his boxers down mid-thigh, fingers drawing out of you. He sits back and lifts his hand to his face, makes a show of licking your mess from his wrist and fingers. That little whine you let out drives him fucking crazy. His fingers curl, sticky with remnants of your juices and his spit, against your hip, leave a tacky wet splotch against your skin. He draws the head of his cock through the wetness of your pussy, slow and torturous. The glide is effortless. He hasn’t prayed in years, but thank god for your cunt.

His hips nudge, head teasing your messy hole, and – Jesus Christ – he just meant to tease you, but your pussy pulls him in, warm and wet around the tip of his cock.

He pulls out, his body and his brain screaming at him – traitor – for pulling away from you. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Blow his load then and there? Hell no. You’d never let him live it down.

You whine again, needy and insistent. The noise is  muffled and frustrated in the press of the pillow. He needs more hands. Wants to pull your hair, force your head up from that pillow so he can hear you properly - but he's got to keep hold of your hips. He presses the vibrator back to your clit, and it’s got you squirming away from him. Leon was trying to buy himself some time to calm down, but this isn’t helping. He’s got to be inside of you right now, or he’s going to explode - and he promised he’d do that inside of you.

He positions himself at your entrance again, almost frantic. The first rock of his hips is clumsy, has him sliding up through the cleft of your ass. He tries again, slides through your folds again, the weeping head of his cock nudging at your clit. The vibrations ripple through his cock, and the whimper he lets out is humiliating. He swears under his breath. He doesn't have the control to pretend that was on purpose. 

His hand drags from your hip to guide himself into you in a series of quick, jerky thrusts. Leon sighs, stairstepping, relief flooding his veins, when your walls finally take him. His pace evens out into something slow and steady. It's a struggle to remember to keep the vibrator where you like it, the way his brain is so fogged with the way you squeeze him. He leans back, hand on the globe of your ass, spreading you apart to watch the way you take him. So wet and messy, sloppy noises driving him crazy. This is the kind of shit that keeps him up at night, that has him fucking his fist and cumming on his stomach in some remote corner of the world, painfully far from you.

He tosses the vibrator aside, the way it skips and jitters against the floor lost to him in the chorus of your moans and the slap of his hips against your ass. Leon feels what little hold he has over himself slipping from his grasp. He can't control the way that his hips rut against you, the push of his cock against the velvet walls of your cunt. He could lose himself in you, spend all his days buried to the hilt in you, balls slapping, teeth wearing at your shoulder, burning memories of this moment into your skin.

His breath comes quick and hard, his forehead buried in the crook of your neck, his moans a litany of your name. He wants you, needs you, can't stop the way his pace has quickened to a frantic beat. His teeth find your earlobe, tugging insistently just to hear your moans sharpen into a keen.

You tighten and pulse around him, a gush of fluid slicking his cock, and he's not certain that he's still on this earth. Your voice breaks on his name and his vision blurs. His fingers find your clit in the haze of pleasure that clouds his mind. It’s a clumsy replacement for the vibrator, but they're his, warm, rough pads that press against you, send your head spinnin. Leon doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. He wants you panting, breathless, boneless, wants you limp in the cushions below him while he pounds into you gooey cunt.

It doesn't take him long. You're whimpering and soft below him, trying fruitlessly to match his thrusts, your fingers clenching and unclenching against the pillow. He's lost in the haze of your body, and his orgasm almost takes him by surprise. He slows to a grind, rolling his hips deep into you again and again, the head of his cock pressing deep, his load spurting against your walls. His moan is broken, high-pitched - a whimper that will burn into your memory, your name sweet on his tongue.

Leon collapses against your back, his chest heaving. He tries to keep his weight off of you, but his limbs are too heavy. His hands slip down your sides, grasp your hips, and turn you, press your back to the couch.

"Good boy," you murmur. He huffs a laugh, kisses that teasing smile on your lips. You pat his shoulder limply.

Good, he thinks, still catching his breath. Got you all fucked out.

His hands slip back up your sides, craddling your ribs. His thumbs trace gentle arches across the curve of your ribs, his head nestled in the valley between your breasts. Your hand returns to his hair, much softer, petting him gently.

It feels like home. He's made it back. He won't leave, not for a while. He's not sure that he can. His eyes slip shut, the warm glow of the Christmas tree lights and the warm pull of your body lulling him into security. Dully, he remembers grab the vibrator from the floor and click it off. The silence that floods the apartment blankets over the both of you.

He doesn’t want to break the serenity of this moment. Your hair pet his hair, nearly lull him to sleep then and there. All his grand plans of round two, of making a mess of you, are slipping through his fingers in the warm glow of your apartment.

“You wanna open your presents now?” You ask him, voice heavy. Another swell of pride. It sounds like he’s worn you out. Maybe he could go for another round.

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“I know,” you whine, “but I’m too excited.”

“I haven’t even wrapped yours yet.”

“Don’t care. Just open yours.”

He feels you squirm under him, trying to shuffle off of the couch. No doubt you want to fetch his gifts, force him to open them. Leon presses his full weight down onto you, pinning you under him.

“Nope.”

Your protests fall on deaf ears. He’s won’t give in, not this time. He already messed up the parade, he’s not messing up the gifts. He wiggles his fingers against your ribs, trying to silence your bargaining by making you squirm.

Your laugh fills the apartment. Leon smiles against your skin. That’s the sound that makes this place home.

[moonlit-dreamers]

Can you rate all Eclipse ships?

*rubs my grubby hands together* i abso-fuckin-lutely can

the lower they go doesnt mean "i despise it" (unless specified) its just that i dont find it interesting/dont personally ship it/never think about it. this also wont include poly ships bc then i just Wouldnt Stop. btw im not gonna edit this so if some shit is typed wrong then uh . sucks ig hjgfjhfh

eclipse/solar - 10/10 - nothing could be better than this. this is my otp above sun/eclipse. nothing can be improved upon bc it is perfect. learning to love urself by loving another version of urself? SIGN 💥 ME 💥 UP 💥

eclipse/sun - 10/10 - second thing i ever shipped (first was sun/solar <3) and its stuck with me ever since. enemies to lovers. wonderful. scrumptious

lord eclipse/sunvant - 10/10 i say this counts to be added to the list bc i fucking can. theyre also my otp. toxic codependency. sunvant having pure blind devotion to lord eclipse despite everything hes done to hurt him? GHOD

eclipse/sunbeam - 8/10 - grumpy cat x golden retriever. or maybe a yorkie with how much sun yaps ghdfghfgh. he'd probably act so fucking annoyed with how much sunbeam yaps but in reality he actually pays attention to all of it bc despite how little of it makes sense its actually entertaining

eclipse/moonshine - 8/10 - theyre nerds that kiss each other. they work on games and random projects together. theyre wonderful

eclipse/ruin - 8/10 - okay im actually writing these out of order and i was almost done THEN FUCKING FORGOT THIS. toxic yaoi at its finest. while ruin is still forcing eclipse to work for him he gets Silly™️ and just goes "i can do whatever i want and nobody will stop me" and ofc he does. if that includes torture or messing with him until his mind breaks then thats up to you. would this be accurate to canon ruin? absolutely not. do i care? fuck no <3

eclipse/dark sun - 7/10 - ADDING THIS IN EDITING BC I WAS FUCKING STUPID AND FORGOT THEM OTL. this the good shit. toxic yaoi. i have thoughts but theyre all gone rn idk wtf happened to them so imagine i made a shitty summary of a fucked up scenario

eclipse/old moon - 7/10 - gwuh creator/creation beloved. idk man. it could either be healing and fluff or angst and toxic. you pick <3

eclipse/solarflare - 7/10 - again. creator/creation. im unwell. AND YET ANOTHER COULD BE TOXIC OR FLUFFY. me thinks onesided pining from sf while eclipse is either oblivious or ignores it would be fun. OR they both use it as a chance to explore bc why not :3

eclipse/earth - 6/10 - not my favorite but its good for fluffy shit. idk why but every time i decide to doodle eclipse being flustered its always with earth. she just appears and makes it her job. idk what to do my hands just move on their own

eclipse/nexus - 5/10 - lower than old moon bc i just dont find it as interesting

eclipse/lunar - 5/10 - personally not that interested in it. but if you bring it up in the middle of a conversation another alter WILL come running over. he responds to it faster than his own damn name. ask him and he'd start going OFF.

eclipse/ballora - 4/10 never think about it but it could be fun

eclipse/bloodmoon - 4/10 - think it could be fun. again, could be toxic or fluffy.

eclipse/killcode - 4/10 - yet another "good ship but not personally interested". tho i think it could be fun. giant soft monster x angry small creature

eclipse/puppet - 3/10 - i like it more than puppet/foxy but thats only bc its eclipse added. i just. i dont like puppet. shes getting better but for a while she was SO annoying to me and i just. my opinion is tainted 😔

eclipse/vincent - 2/10 - i can see it? maybe? who fuckin knows lol

eclipse/anyone else - 1/10 - im just lumping everyone else into one thing so i dont go on forever. basically just the "never thought about it and probably wont continue thinking about it" ships

[sakyhana13]

Excerpt without context from the Gelphie fanfiction in the style of "I need to save my girlfriend who was cursed to be a monster"

(Idea based on the fact that I'm a dumbass for witches trying to rescue and detransform their girlfriend cursed by a maniac, anyone who assistiu Dungeon Meshi knows what I'm talking about. that nobody asked for, but I need to share it or I'll explode.)

Elphaba watches Glinda sleep. It's so funny, even when she's in the form of a giant cat, with a high chance of snoring and drooling. But Glinda doesn't do that; she just sleeps quietly, with short breaths and the occasional snort. Her tail twitches happily every now and then. Elphaba wonders if, in this form, Glinda still has dreams and what she would dream about. There was a time when Elphaba knew the answer to all these hypotheses. Glinda dreamed. She dreamed big, of a life of adoration by the masses and unlimited influence. She dreamed of dinners and balls, of the burlesque life that the Emerald City had to offer.

They dreamed together, one day, of building a life in this place: Elphaba as the Wizard's apprentice, and Glinda as a socialite loved and well-liked by society. One day, Glinda dreamed of marrying Fiyero. One day, Elphaba dreamed of being like Glinda. Elphaba once dreamed of being loved and respected. But that had changed, at least for Elphaba. Ever since she left Glinda in that tower, her dream after ending the wizard's tyrannical rule had always been to one day return to her arms, at least one last time. To return to Glinda and to their dormitory, to hear the clicks of Glinda's heels hitting the floor. To Glinda's nimble, delicate fingers in her hair as they rested under their favorite tree on the Suicide Canal, while Elphaba read aloud from one of her books. Elphaba's dreams were filled with nights sharing a bed with Glinda beside her, whispering secrets and nonsense. Sometimes Elphaba would wake up smelling Glinda's perfume, as if her nose were buried in her blond curls, and the heat of her body just above hers. Elphaba didn't like to dwell on the past, or to ask silly questions, but she wondered how and when she had lost all of this. She knew the answer, but sometimes she still felt disbelief that she had lost Glinda. It wasn’t even her fault. It wasn’t even Glinda’s fault. They were just the right people at the wrong time. Always at the wrong time. Could they never exist without causing each other pain? Without hurting each other or becoming fractured? Not after Shiz.

Elphaba still remembers Glinda’s raw anger at their last meeting. She hadn’t expected the slap, hadn’t expected Glinda to hurt her. But Glinda had. Elphaba hadn’t expected to hurt her sweet girl either, but she had, because in the end, she had fought back. Her hand hadn’t touched Glinda’s face to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. No. Her hand had returned the insult in kind. It had always been that way between them, hadn’t it? Always fighting back and giving back what they had received from each other. Always trying to balance the scales. If heartbreak corrupted one heart, the other would soon follow. Just as affection in one could not blossom alone. Elphaba wonders why they were destined to this. Why were their destinies so singular, yet so rhyming? Why did Glinda's song always rhyme with hers? Why couldn't she just be alone? Why couldn't she exist with a heart of her own? Why were she and Glinda woven together in the universe, even when they were in opposition? Even when they were far apart? Why was their pain shared? Why was Glinda always following her, even when she didn't want to? Even trapped in this form where she was not remembered, where all Glinda knew was that someone had taken care of her when she was hurt. When all that was left of Elphaba in Glinda's psyche was a stranger. When they had already been so much more than that… She doesn't know how to reverse this, doesn't know how to heal her. She needed the Grimmerie to even look for a hint, a suggestion, but she also didn't want to try to use the damn book and make things worse.

[eldritch-spouse]

So… which of our charming Icons would allow their lol queen to have a pet? Like a cat not a mistress or something similar. I cannot live without my cats. Do any of them actually like cats?

The one who you truly can't have pets around is Vesper. He laments to inform you that animal populations in Lust are kept to a very controlled minimum. His Ring is a zone of constant sexual depravity, even the streets are unabashed erotic grounds, no one wants old Fido hanging around. Vesper's mansion is likewise a place of constant lavish sex, your poor pets wouldn't have a place to live normally.

Zizz demands that whatever animal you have never ever lay a claw on one of the blankets/pillows/plushies in the main bed chambers. The plush monsters might retaliate, and no one wants to see the outcome of that...

Vorticia would urge you not to bring small animals near her or any of her children. While they're less likely to act on hungry impulse than her, the chances of there being a tragedy are still very high in general.

Livius, as you know, will act out if your pets receive more attention than him. Enough said about his ability to care for animals.

Rinx loves pets! Why he has so many! It's just that... He tends to forget about them. And who knows what happens to them afterwards, right? Eh, take proper care of them, make sure they don't destroy his property too much and all will be fine.

Cero isn't much of an animal lover, but he does like cats, especially sphynx cats. You might be in luck, they'll certainly have the most gourmet of treatments.

Kalymir loves animals! But, well, the kind of animals he keeps around are very incompatible with a simple house cat. Between his giant magma lizards, the war steeds he keeps around, not to mention the hellhounds... Well, are you sure your kitty can make it unharmed?

[mysticraven20]

Adrien: So, “The Human Jawline,” huh? I can’t tell if I’m flattered or mildly concerned 🤔

Marinette: OH NO! DELETE THAT RIGHT NOW! DELETE IT FROM YOUR MIND! DELETE IT FROM EXISTENCE!

Adrien: I mean, I’ve been called a lot of things—Chat Noir, Adrien, Handsome—but ‘The Human Jawline’? That’s new 😼

Adrien: Should I start posing more dramatically in battle?

Adrien: Or start sporting some stubble? Draw a little more attention to it!

Marinette: STOP! NO! 100% NO! OMG! YOU’RE MAKING THIS WORSE!!!!

Adrien: Okay, okay. I’ll stop. But I have questions…

Adrien: Like, step 4, is it just my “ridiculously bad puns,” or all my puns?

Adrien: Because that would be… a CAT-astrophe! 😸

Marinette: I walked into that one, didn’t I?

Adrien: You really CLAWED your way into it, M’Lady!

Marinette: 😩 WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!

Adrien: Speaking of which, Step 5 on your list? You don’t need to make me anything. Knowing I’m the ‘most purr-fect partner’ is already enough 😻

Marinette: That’s… very sweet.

Adrien: I mean it.

Adrien: And if you really want to know, you’re kind of my inspiration for my own resolutions 🤩

Marinette: UGH. Fine. Since you’re clearly enjoying this, why don’t YOU share your New Year’s resolutions, huh?

Marinette: Let’s see how embarrassing YOUR list is.

Adrien: Oh, mine’s simple. Step 1: Be a better hero. Step 2: Be a better partner.

Marinette: …That’s actually really sweet. But unneeded. You’re already a SUPER partner!

Adrien: Great pun! But, I’m not done yet…

Adrien: Step 3: Convince Marinette to let me bring her truffles to patrol because they’re miraculous and I know she loves them

Marinette: I do love a chocolate covered truffle!

Adrien: 😉

Adrien: Step 4: Use even more puns this year, just to see her reaction

Marinette: Woah! Woah! Woah! That is NOT a valid resolution! That totally goes against mine!

Adrien: Oh, it’s totally valid. It’s my resolution. Step 5: Make M’Lady laugh every single day.

Adrien: I’m already on a roll with that one. I saw you laughing earlier 😉

Marinette: You were thrown into a manure truck! Of course I laughed!

Adrien: How do you know it wasn’t just to make you laugh? I could have let the giant gnome throw me in there on purpose!

Marinette: You’re impossible, you know that 🙄

Adrien: And yet, you keep me around. Admit it, M’Lady, I’m paws-itively irresistible.

Marinette: If this is what I’m dealing with all year, I need a new resolution.

Adrien: Let me guess: Step 6: Don’t strangle Adrien Agreste.

Marinette: …How did you know? It’s like you could read my brain 😮

Adrien: You’d miss me too much, Bugaboo.

Marinette: You’re incorrigible!

Adrien: And you’re adorable. Guess we’re both stuck this way.

Marinette: And, to think, I used to believe you were a sweetheart!

Adrien: Don’t lie…you still do! I’ve seen the eyes you gave me earlier!

Marinette: Oh, please. Those weren’t ‘sweetheart’ eyes—they were ‘seriously, dude?’ eyes. Get it right!

Adrien: Wow, Marinette, that really stings. And here I was, dusting off your shrine in my cupboard. Guess I’ll just torch it now 🔥

Marinette: Sure…so, how was your New Year’s Eve in the end?

Adrien: Oh, you know, just the usual. Stopped an akuma, fought some monsters, gave a few puns to keep the mood light…

Marinette: Dived head first into a manure truck…

Marinette: Actually…I can scrap step 3. Your hair was a bit CRAPPY yesterday!

Adrien: Ding! Ding! Ding! Round One. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng has come out for a pun war.

Adrien: Don’t start something you know you can’t finish, M'Lady 😉

Marinette: Says the guy who can’t send everything he wants to say in one message 💬

Adrien: Me-ouch! Someone didn’t get enough sleep last night. What did I ever do to you? I thought you said I was the purr-fect partner?

Adrien: (See! I can send it in one message)

Marinette: Two…so your New Year?

Adrien: Apart from missing you and dreaming of a kiss at midnight? Not a lot! I went home and celebrated in the most Chat Noir way I could—by taking a nap in front of the TV with a pizza. It was glorious 😍

Marinette: That sounds… actually really nice

Adrien: Well, I am a good kisser. You should give me a try sometime 😘 oh wait, you already have…multiple times!

Marinette: If the modelling doesn’t work out, you should try to become a comedian!

Adrien: One step ahead of you, M, I’m already writing a joke book

Adrien: You know, using M would be so much easier…it can stand for Marinette, or M’Lady…

Adrien: …Or mine (delete)

Marinette: I can live with that! But if I’m M, you have to be A

Adrien: For ‘Awesome’, right?

Marinette: Or annoying…

Adrien: Whatever you say Miss Moneypenny 👀

Marinette: 🙄

Adrien: What about you? How was your night? Hopefully not too many disasters.

Marinette: Surprisingly not. I spent most of it with my parents, so...

Marinette: But I did almost spill hot chocolate all over the floor trying to carry too many mugs at once 🤦🏻‍♀️

Marinette: But hey, step 3! I didn’t trip! Progress!

Adrien: I’m proud of you, M 😉♥️

Adrien: And if you ever did spill anything again, I’d be right over to save you

Marinette: Awww, you’re too kind. But you’ll have to beat my new and improved cat-like reflexes to it first meow 😼

Adrien: Challenge accepted. After all, you can’t beat the original

Marinette: I won’t disagree with that! Tell Plagg he’s always my number one

Adrien: Step 7: Be nicer to Adrien Agreste

Marinette: I am nice! I’m telling you, you can come over for hot chocolate ☕️

Adrien: Let me just get my shoes on…

Marinette: Wait, you’re really coming over? Now?

Adrien: I’m just trying to keep my New Year’s resolutions on track, you know? I did say I’d be a better partner…why not start with hot beverages?

Marinette: …I think you’re making your own excuses for seeing me, Chaton.

Adrien: Guilty as charged.

Marinette: See you in 10 ♥️

Marinette: Oh, and come in through the front door. My papa’s starting to ask questions.

[nerdwhoauthorinserts]

"I still hear your voice when you sleep next to me..."

Possible trigger warnings?: -Angst -Mentions of zombiefied cat-like creature, haha.

Context/Synopsis:

Writing Prompt: Base a quick (Less than 500 words) story after a song you've been listening to recently.

Characters featured: -Copycat -Loki

Notes: -This is the song I based this on. (It's such a good cover, holy shit-) -This is meant to be a similar AU universe to Earth-807128 from the Marvel Comics? Not entirely the same, ofc, but basically a 'Copyverse' version.

The city was quiet, uncharacteristic of the usually bustling city New York once was. The world is close to being a whole desert, save for this one city. The buildings ruined as greenery and nature overtook the human-made structures, reclaiming the area again.

But why didn't anyone ever come here looking for resources? It would be a hotspot, being a literal oasis. There is a big reason.

In the center of the city, crumpled in a heap of awe-striking bone, is the skeleton of who once was a great prince of Asgard. The skeleton itself is harmless, if a bit creepy. No, the skeleton's guardian strikes fear in all who dared come close.

The creature stalked the area like a wolf patrolling its territory. A massive creature resembling a half-decayed feline of some kind. Big tufted ears, an exposed spine, an exposed ribcage, and a beating human heart in its chest that thumped with the power of the soul stone.

This creature appeared out of nowhere the same day that the Asgard prince used their power to turn giant, the same day that giant fell and left behind their bones. This thing appeared, sticking by the skeleton like the giant's remains were the creature's only lifeline.

Any human, mutant, or otherwise that came close to the skeleton met with the guard's ire, who'll do all it could to kill anything that got too close.

Though, there is a bit of heartache to this story, too.

Nobody knows who this creature is, as barely anyone is still alive who remembers. However, if you're close enough to notice, the monster makes known why it holds the god so dearly.

If you pay attention, in the dead of night when the moon is at its highest peak, you may hear the haunting melody of a song in the air as the soul stone projects the longing within the creature using the music the soul stone creates so readily.

It's a love song, deep and longing, speaking of the creature's unwavering love and heartache.

[augment-techs]

Okay so Im reading this fic, and I thought you would enjoy what the premise basically is... Person A watches Person B put themselves through a near death experience, for an admittedly dumb reason, and is so god damn angry and panicky about it.  However afterwards, B is acting like it's not even a big deal, which causes A to yell at the rest of their group to leave the room before rounding on B to say how stupid that stunt was, and B is just being the epitome of "I had it under control, I wasn't in any real danger", which just sets A off to the point where A desperately needs some sort of physical confirmation that B is there and alive and real, and A just starts kissing B and getting into their space as close as they can... and B only pushes them away when they realize that A is crying, and thats when B actually starts to feel bad, and apologizes and assures A that they are here and that they're okay, and they wipe away the tears and just kinda hold each other for awhile...

Okay, here's the thing, the first thought is that A has to be Billy and B has to be Skull, because this is just their type casting speaking to the brain. But really, Billy is the one with the Power, with the habits of getting into things he's not supposed to almost every single day for two years, who works for a company with a woman willing to take on god-like beings if it means it might be the equivalent of wagging a finger in Zordon's face. If anyone is going to go into a near death situation without thinking about it, it's going to be Billy. Probably probing something equivocal to a bomb that could go off at any second, Bulk and Skull recording from a ledge in the aftermath of another fight between the Rangers and a giant monster. Probably, the two punks thought they'd get an after-action recording of the Rangers talking to each other, or performing clean up or going through the motions with Ms. Sterling and her little helpers. Billy would just so happen to almost get flattened by a large chunk of dead monster falling down from the equipment he was going over and Skull...would not be pleased. Would be so displeased in fact that he might, oh, shove the camera into Bulk's hands and climb down the ledge of ruined architecture like a particularly angry alley cat, grumbling and growling and walking right by security. The Grim Reaper would probably look less intimidating, marching directly up to Billy and picking him up to sling over his shoulder and stomping off to have a conversation. Except the "conversation" is mostly just the back and forth of Skull trying to remind Billy that he's a human being that can be injured and he might have grown into himself since they were ten, added on a little muscle and gained the ability to run really fast, "But that doesn't mean you should just shrug off almost getting smashed down into the pavement like a bug," while Billy actually looks a little amused, shrugging off the way Skull's all shaky and loud, and just generally acting like Skull is the one being ridiculous, "And anyway, why are you so worried about it?" "BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU, YOU FUCKING--!!" And crying. Actual tears from the taller boy, the punk, the hasn't been a bully since Arrival Day, the first friend Billy ever had. And Skull too embarrassed to stick around, turning and walking away and avoiding the hell out of Billy for days, not saying a word. Oh, and then the scenario turns perfectly on its head. Because watching BOTH of them cry, and hide, and worry, and kiss in desperation. Wouldn't THAT be lovely~

[patchworkheartouija]

Alone - PH SaFaria Drabble

(Trying to get back in the swing of writing these dumbasses, might do more stuff, or maybe do a Kim-Ly Drabble later. Maybe both.

Contains sex jokes because Faria and raging because Sapphire. Was originally planned to contain reference to Sapphire’s forgotten past but I couldn’t fit that in.)

The clock ticks on the wall as Faria observes her friend.

Sapphire has been sitting in place for the last… 6 hours now? Staring at the wall.

“Ok this is just creepy as shit Saffie.” Faria tries. Her attempt to talk to the albino unfortunately fails.

The clock strikes 2PM and Sapphire rises from her seat and starts to walk down a nearby hallway, her metallic shoes making loud clanking noises, confused the cat follows after her.

“Wanna explain what that shit was?”

“What shit.”

“YOU STARED AT A WALL FOR 6 HOURS!!!”

“It was 70 minutes. We all know you cannot tell time.”

“Still unreasonable… unless minutes are like those REALLY short time measurements…”

“They are not. They are the shortest viable to use for this. If I were to use seconds the number would appear far higher than it is. 6 hours is a count I have no idea how you achieved.

“I guessed.”

“Ah of course.”

“I still think I’m right.”

“Your voice is so grating.”

“My voice is sexy you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sapphire turns to glare at her, Faria just laughs hysterically.

“Soooooo anyway were we going chief?”

“That is for me to know and you to find out.”

“Harsh.”

“I did not ask for nor did I want for you to follow me.”

“Ah but it’s a big place. You could get lost. All alone… cold… trapped.” Ok now she’s just projecting.

“Unlikely I have lived here on my own for several years.”

“Several whats?”

“OKAY.”

“Wooof someone’s angry.”

“I’M NOT ANGRY I- just prefer being alone ok?”

“Hmmmmmmm… well I prefer not that and my siblings are being boring and hunting rats right now and rats really taste like shit here so I’m gonna be following you.”

“Why. Why would you ever want to follow me around!?”

“Because you make cute noises when you’re angry Saff.”

Sapphire resists the urge to scream, that’s what Faria wants.

“You’re a dick Nightingale.”

“Eh?”

“I was… I was calling you by your last name.”

“Ohhhh… right.”

“You are just… so dumb.”

“I’m brilliant.”

“Delusional.” They reach a meat locker, which Sapphire throws open and starts to walk inside, the stupid metal shoes making loud clanks against its also metallic floor. Sapphire follows her inside.

“You’re just never gonna leave me alone, huh?”

“Oh you love me~”

“I do not. I am 5 seconds away from beating you to death.”

“You can’t.”

“And why not?”

“See you’re very tiny and I’m quite large and in the world of beating people to death, I win.”

“I could shock you.”

“Yeah like when you restarted my heart after I drowned because you were scared I died and declared me your best friend.”

“WE DO NOT SPEAK OF MY ACTIONS NEAR THE TIME OF OUR MEETING!!!!!”

“You don’t. I do.”

Sapphire gives an exaggerated sigh. “Why are you like this?”

“Sexy? Dunno I was born this way.”

“Annoying.”

“Oh because it’s funny. And makes me sexier.”

“You simply lack a fear of death to a scale I just… I just can’t understand.”

“Ok two things. 1, I peg death and spit in its face, 2, you are the single most confusingly harmless monster I have ever met. Like what can you DO? You can like occasionally let out a small shock and effectively pretend to be a person despite looking like Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas’s frumpy cousin-“

“Never say that again.”

“-but like what do you DO? You seem to THINK you have the physical strength to fight someone but you DON’T. You’re not even like physically intimidating enough to make that threat towards… like most teenagers.”

“STOP.”

“And I don’t mean like monster kids there are some small ones and some giant ones I’m using the average of human kids. I myself was a pretty big kid not to brag. I could beat your ass at 9.”

“If you do not cease this behaviour I will be forced to act.”

“Act HOW?” Faria says, easily picking Sapphire up with one hand. “You don’t even weigh much.”

“Put me down Nightingale.”

“I can PUNT you.”

“PUT ME DOWN.”

“Wow you are just… convinced you can fight me. It’s almost inspiring to be honest.”

“I WILL.”

“I kinda feel bad for you but I also don’t because this is really funny.”

“My height makes me no less dangerous.”

“Ok true Katia is like smaller than you by a bit in standard form and she doesn’t need to get much bigger to destroy an army but you’re harmless with no actual useful abilities for a fight so the fact you barely reach my hips just becomes another debuff.”

“I WILL SHOCK YOU!”

“Fucking do it then.” There’s a moment of silence and nothing happens. “Yeah I fucking thought so.” Faria places Sapphire down. “So where to chief!”

Sapphire glares at her for a moment. If looks could kill, Faria would be completely fine right now.

Sapphire sighs in annoyance and keeps walking, eventually reaching a wall.

“Ooh a new wall to stare at, fun.”

“Silence Nightingale.”

“No.”

Sapphire picks up a screwdriver from her pocket, and starts to take out random screws from the wall, many are already missing.

“Ok I need to know, the fuck are you doing man?”

“Do not speak like we are friends.”

“We are, you admitted that back on the island.”

“I was lying or something- I don’t know. Why are you sticking around there’s a whole world out there.”

“Because my instincts have decided I like you and I want to see where this goes.”

“I swear to god if your instincts think I’m your MATE.”

“They might I’m not sure. Never had this before.”

“Great. The giant grinning cat fucker might want to breed with me. We’re both girls idiot it doesn’t work like that.”

“Homophobic much?”

“I’m not I’m just saying I’m not a viable mate from an evolutionary standpoint.”

“Nature don’t give a shit. Nature just says “look tiny ragdoll maybe zombie thing who rages constantly like an angry toddler who wears a tie. Cute.” Doesn’t matter WHAT you got in your pants. And who knows you could grow a dick.” Faria jokes.

“I hate this conversation so much.”

“Fair.”

“I hate you so much.”

“You don’t though.”

“Keep fooling yourself.”

“Why do you want me to leave Sapphire?”

“Huh?” The albino turns around.

“Look I mean I get it, the mating joke, the making fun of your height… I’m annoying I get that. But you know it’s nothing more than that, and you yourself said we are friends. So why do you want me to leave? You brought me here yourself. You’ve never made any active attempt to get rid of me or even make me stop following you around. Yet you keep telling me you want me gone.”

“…” Sapphire seems to be shaking.

“Why do you want me to leave?”

“I… have been alone so long.”

“Do you like being alone?”

“I can’t remember. I can’t remember anything about who I am.”

“It’s not a memory it’s a question about you as a person. Do you like people?”

“No…”

“Do you like being completely alone.”

“I thought I did.”

“What changed.”

“I got shoved into a metal crate with a feral monster that licked my face.”

“So me? I’m what made you question if you wanted to be alone. Sounds like YOU’RE the one thinking of ME as a mate. Are you sure you really don’t have any instincts?”

“…Ah well maybe I do. None of that variety. I have a distinct desire not to see under my skin. When I have been injured my body forced me to close my eyes until I could stitch the wound closed. I still find the lack of blood to be odd.”

“Whatever the case, looks like you’re stuck with me! Also I have an urge to find a seam ripper.”

“Can you really not take anything seriously?”

“With you, kinda? Maybe? Answer unclear ask later.”

“I oddly don’t mind that���”

“Well when you’re done unscrewing shit for no reason maybe you can help me try to make a rat trap so Kat and Zero can stop chasing them around.”

“I… think I’d like that.”

[memento-morri-writes]

tis i the crit role anon 🙏

hey morri! i’m kind of the reverse of you where i’ve seen all of c3 (all of it to date i suppose), but none of c2! i am enjoying the overlap the first two campaigns have had with the third, tho i definitely don’t have a ton of context to the second!

tell me more about why you love it so much! what sticks out to you about the style, defining moments, the characters? who’s your favourite if you can pick just one? why were you drawn to that campaign over the other two?

if i had to guess i think my fav pc would be caleb, im a huge fan of vax and orym. liams characters in general haha

also i have to ask have you watched tlovm?

HI ANON!!!!! I'm so glad you came back and gave me a chance to ramble about this silly little show that I love so much.

This is extremely long, so I'm putting it under the cut to spare people's dashes.

So, campaign two is very near and dear to my heart. It's the first campaign I watched (and the only one I've finished), and it's (in part) what got me into dnd in the first place.

I mean, it really is everything I could ever want from a dnd show. The characters are amazing, the plot is excellent, there's the right mix of shenanigans and sincerity. Okay, yes, all of crit role has those things, but c2 knocks it out of the park.

Like, c1 is a bit more of your typical hero's journey. You have these people who start out rather ordinary, and end up rising to extreme heights, saving the world and gaining a lot of power as they do so. These people are also (generally) pretty good and righteous people. Which isn't bad!!!!!!!! I love c1 a lot! (I would kill and die for Vax, which explains why I've been procrastinating finishing, lmao.)

But c2 is more my style when it comes to characters. A bunch of fucked-up misfits who become an extremely dysfunctional but loving family, and semi-accidentally save the world while they're at it. Idk, there's something about the fact that the Mighty Nein don't start out to be heroes, don't intend to be heroes, that really really endears me to them. A fair amount of what they do is for not necessarily self-serving, but personal reasons. They fuck up sometimes, and it's great.

Also, TMN are just so much more chaotic than Vox Machina. I mean, it's to be expected when you have such chaotic characters as Nott and Jester in one party, plus everyone else.

As for defining moments, there's literally too many to list. I could sit here and talk about c2 for hours. But I will say that near the end of Episode 7 was where I well and truly knew that there was no going back, and that my life had been changed. (A lot of good things there, but the Molly+Caleb bit is what did me in, I think.)

Other top faves include (in no particular order) literally the entire pirate arc (but esp the fight on the ship in Darktow and the yuan-ti temple), Yasha's pit fight (I literally wrote a mini essay about it on my personal blog bc it made me so emotional), any time Essek is there (for both feels and laughs), Caduceus's speech in Dinner With The Devil, Jester and Nott fucking up that one temple (just because it made me laugh so hard I stopped making noise for like 10 minutes straight), any time Beau and Caleb interact, THE FIRST TIME THEY SEE THE NEIN-SIDED TOWER, the Lucien/Jester tarot reading, the Lucien fight (all stages of it), Fjord throwing his sword into lava, any of the times they polymorphed large monsters into turtles (giant -> snapping turtle or the turtle on ice), the time they got banned from two libraries in less than 20 minutes...

As you can see, I could go on for hours. And yes, if you're a Liam character fan, Caleb will be your favorite. Caleb is also my favorite critical role character of all time ever, and I'm so obsessed with this man it's unreal. Like, autistic (to me) sad wizard man who loves his cat, has so much trauma, and is played by Liam O'Brien??? Obviously going to be my fave.

As for why I started with c2 over c1, I'm not actually sure. I think it was on the recommendation of some friends and my cousin, because the beginning is more polished than that of c1, and in their opinions it was the best campaign (I'm inclined to agree. No other crit role campaign will ever top it).

I have not watch tlovm yet, but I plan on getting around to it someday. Unfortunately for me, I am very very very very bad at finishing tv shows. It's basically either I finish it at an insanely fast pace (ie all 141 episodes of c2 in ~6 months, or all 38 episodes of Black Sails in just over 2 weeks), or I never finish it at all. Someday I will get my shit together and watch tlovm, though.

Actually, I happen to have a little art wall at my mom's house that is mostly Mighty Nein art. I don't have everyone yet, just Jester, Yasha, Caleb, and Essek, but I'd love to get the full party up there someday. Sadly I don't have any good pictures of it.

[deadendkid4201]

i just don't know what to do...I feel so alone and so lost i feel like an obsessive monster from your past who just won't leave you alone or back off always talking about how in love I am how much I miss and need you it just makes me look horrible i wish I could get you away from him but I also feel if you wanted to truly wanted to you probably would of left him by now but something fights with you inside back and forth and that's horrible to you shouldn't love like that it isn't love it's not happiness and you deserve the world and i always will wish it was me but I don't feel you're ever gonna let that become reality I love you so much I just wish I knew what to do and how to not feel like I want to not exist and feel so alone for the rest of my life I do my best to escape but my reality will always be that I'm deeply depressed scared tired of living in this world and that probably isn't gonna change either I'm most likely never gonna be in another relationship ever I just don't know that world anymore the only thing I know is loneliness I just don't know anymore I try so hard to move forward and I've come so far but it all feels absolutely meaningless I've gained no pride no anything in the progress I've made in my life because the only people who acknowledge any of it and respect me for it and notice it and try to make me feel good about it is my case worker, skills worker, and therapists at the place I go for therapy and nobody else not one single friend I have a cat who's well taken care of a decent apt where I can be as loud or do whatever nobody complains or cares and everyone leaves eachother alone I got art I've made everywhere stones gems rocks crystals all kinds of shit a ps5 a giant flat screen TV a huge bed in my room some decent cloths but it all feels meangless it feels empty and hallow i try to feel good about the art I make and all the progress but I just can't i feel nothing at all just sad....i'm sorry for the long rant...i'm sorry for all of it I miss you 😥 BTW this isn't a drunk rant like so many in the past you're just....you've been on my mind alot more then normal lately and I don't know why.... @christinealicia

[imglowinginthedarkness]

ooh i love coming up with questions! feel free to ignore any of these you dont want to do tho

1- werewolves or vampires? and why

2- what fictional character has impacted your life the most?

3- similar to that, was there one movie you were obsessed with and watched over and over as a kid?

4- hat's your "type" and does it vary between theory and reality?

5- re you a good cook or baker? if so, what's the best thing you've ever made?

6- f you could teleport anywhere in the world but you had to stay there for a year, where would you go?

7- where do you see yourself in 5 years? Not in a job interview way

8- what height would you want to be if you could choose?

9- is there anything you really want to do this year that you've never done before?

10- what's something your followers might be surprised to learn about you?

these are so thorough and fun oh my GOSH !!!!

1– werewolves 100%. vampires are sexy in their own right but as a monster fucker i cant resist a big ole fuckin creature, and werewolves are the perfect combination of human intelligence and monstrous otherworldliness. they can be basically just a human with more hair and a tail or they can lose all semblance of humanity and be giant hulking beasts. they're perfect. 10/10

2– sans the skeleton, absolutely. i know he's been sorta transfigured into a meme and hes a silly little guy to me, too, but like also, really and truthfully, he (and undertale itself) came into my life during a time i deeply and desperately needed something to help me feel safe, and sans was that thing for me.

3– there were two, actually!! rise of the guardians and a monster in paris !! i still to this day absolutely adore a monster in paris, it's such a charming film and the soundtrack is phenomenal

4– my "type"..... man thats a hard question. i dont really have a 'type', per say? or at least i dont think so, but there are some qualities that i basically always find consistently attractive! here's a list of em

being tall and/or physically imposing

shoulder length dark hair

low/deep, soft, smooth voice

humor/being able to make me laugh

passion/being hard working/loving the things they do

being a good dancer

good natured cockiness 

5– i dont know how good of cook/baker i am but i do love to cook/bake ! i think my favorite thing ive ever made would have to be these orange creamsicle cupcakes i made w a friend years ago for a baking competition. we won ! (＊๑˘◡˘)

6– oooh probably either.... wales or japan! ive always wanted to visit

7– honestly i have no idea... but hopefully somewhere, u know? maybe in a little apartment with a cat . that would be nice

8– maybe like, 5'6" to 5'8"? that way i could still be a short king™ but tall enough so that people dont immediately assume im still in high school

9– i wanna travel by myself! and im actually gonna do that in july, because im flying to england to visit a friend :]

10– uhhhhhh hmmmm i dunno! i'm adopted? people are sometimes surprised to learn that

[alloftheimagines]

steve harrington | movie night

masterlist | ko-fi

words: 2.9k

warnings: reader has a pregnancy scare and is dating a shitty, toxic jock, alcohol consumption, steve is whipped, enemies to lovers vibes, strong language, mentions of spooky hawkins shenanigans, no spoilers, reader has she/her pronouns,

prompts: Any time anything bad happens your there are you cursing me or something?  Steve Harrington x reader can it have some fluff and angst &

the "i don't need your pity" with steve please ❤️

Steve Harrington is trying really hard not to notice you. You’ve barely spoken since the two of you were kidnapped by Russians last July, never great friends to begin with — partly because he loves teasing the shit out of you, and partly because he’s always dragging you into Hawkins’s batshit underworld, whether it’s Demogorgons killing Dustin Henderson’s cat or a giant fucking Mind Flayer in the middle of the mall. And between those things, you were stuck with him for years. Tutoring him at school. Working with him at Scoops. You irritate each other to no end, but he can’t stop that burning feeling that flames in his chest whenever you’re around; that need to get a reaction. 

He hasn’t worked out why it’s there yet, or maybe he’s in denial. Robin claims it’s because he likes you, but Steve refuses to admit he has feelings for the very bane of his existence, the person who always ate the leftover pistachio ice cream, of all things. He doesn’t trust anyone who picks wild, shitty flavours involving nuts. It’s mint chocolate chip or nothing. 

That’s why, when he comes out back and finds you browsing the chick flick section in Family Video, he freezes with a collection of tapes still in his hands. And okay, maybe the sight of you leaves him bristling instinctively, but… maybe he’d also forgotten how pretty you look when you’re concentrating, tongue sticking out just slightly and eyes narrowed. It’s your perfecting-the-ice-cream-scoop face. Your murdering-gruesome-monsters-with-a-baseball-bat face. And, apparently, your looking-for-exactly-the-right-romcom face. 

He’s missed that face. Not that he would ever admit it. He retreats behind the counter quietly, half-wondering if he could go back to the stockroom or take his afternoon break a little early. But then he won’t have the chance to talk to you, and the thought leaves him feeling empty. 

So he stays, distracting himself by sorting the videos, first by genre and then alphabet. As he does, he feels Robin’s presence behind him — and jumps when he looks over his shoulder to find her breathing down his neck. “Guess who’s here?”

Heat rises to his cheeks, but he feigns nonchalance. “I don’t know. Who?”

“Only the love of your life. And look at that blush!” She points and he slaps her hand away. “You’re still crushing hard, I see.”

He glares, turning around and leaning against the counter. “Yeah, right,” he scoffs. “Please. She's the most irritating person in the world. We’re not doing this whole,” he motions vaguely, “thing again.”

“The thing where you pretend you don’t like Y/N?”

“The thing where you try to play Cupid with me and the one person I can’t stand.”

Robin rolls her eyes, leaning on the counter beside him. He mirrors her position, crossing his arms and stealing a glance your way. He can barely see you behind the row of tapes, thank god. 

A new customer distracts him, swaggering through the door. An asshole jock he never liked, and not just because he was better at basketball. Wes is a dick. Has always been a dick. Steve vaguely remembers coming home with a chunk of hair missing in middle school once because Wes had taken it upon himself to chop it all off. The entire class had laughed, and Steve had grown out his hair just to spite them. 

Wes doesn’t look their way when he enters. Instead, he heads straight to you, dragging his feet and groaning when he finds you. “Again? Seriously?”

“Oh, please. If we watch Mad Max one more time, I’m going to gouge out my eyes.”

“Yeah, well, if I have to sit through another dull snooze fest with that ginger chick, I’m gonna gouge them out for you.”

Steve catches you scowling through the video racks and clenches his jaw. He had no idea you were dating anybody, but you’ve had your fair share of shitbags over the years. It pisses him off, the way you always choose the worst people to date. Whenever he overheard you gossiping with Robin at Scoops, he wanted to shake you. Tell you to wake the fuck up and choose someone better.

But he doesn’t know why he’s still surprised.

You sigh; pick a movie. “I’ll watch a shitty action if you watch a shitty romance. How about that?” 

Wes still rolls his eyes as though you’re asking him to sacrifice a limb, and even Steve knows it’s a dick move. If he was dating somebody like you, he’d watch anything to make you happy. Not that he’d ever want to date someone like you. God, no. You’re… awful. 

Your boyfriend picks up Fright Night as you approach the counter, slamming it in front of Steve beside your Romancing the Stone. Steve glances at Robin in the hopes she’ll serve you so he won’t have to, but after greeting you happily, she wanders into the back mumbling something about a lunch break. Typical.

With a huff, he drags his feet to you. “Y/N.” He nods.

“Steve,” you reply tersely, shuffling from one foot to the other. 

“This is where you’re working now, Harrington?” Wes scoffs beside you, his sparkling eyes fixing on Steve’s tacky uniform. “King Steve is no more, huh?”

“Wes,” you scold. 

Steve ignores him, inputting your rentals into the system. He finds his fingers shaking; not with anger, but with something that feels rooted much deeper in his gut. Something that makes him feel sick. Why Wes? You could have anybody, so why would you choose a dick like him?

“Just saying. It’s kinda funny.” Wes plays with Steve’s name badge, face twisted with the taunt. “Least you get this cool badge, right?”

“That’s enough,” you snap at the same time Steve bats his hand away. Steve only notices then that you’re pale. Eyes watery. Worry niggles through him, and he wishes it wouldn’t. 

“Jeez,” Wes mutters. “Lighten up, babe.”

You shake your head, pulling out your purse to pay Steve. “Why can’t you just stop being an asshole?”

“What did you say to me?” Wes grits his teeth, narrowing his eyes at you. 

Steve looks between you, biting his lower lip. He can’t help it now. He wonders what the hell you’re doing with this jerk. Wonders if he’s more than just an asshole. Especially when he balls his fists, shoulders squared. 

“Enjoy your movies,” is all Steve can think to say in an effort to dissolve the tension. He places the videos in a bag and leaves them on the counter. 

You take them without looking at him, mumbling a “thanks.” And then you’re disappearing out the door. Wes sizes Steve up a final time before following. 

“Dick,” Steve mumbles before going back to his work. But that unease stays with him for the rest of the day, the ghost of your disgruntled, ashen face following him around Hawkins.

***

What was supposed to be an intimate movie night with your boyfriend turned into a house party full of people you despised in high school and still do now. Worse? You had a pregnancy scare this morning. You’re late, and you’d been dreading telling Wes, but you needed him to get the test for you because your dad works in the pharmacy, and he doesn’t know anything about who you date. 

The test came back negative, but Wes had been a first-class prick the entire time, starting with the way he’d treated Steve. Blaming you for not forcing him to wear a condom or not taking the pill, and then making accusations you’d done it on purpose to trap him, or else cheated with other people. By the time his friends turned up at seven, you were in tears and he was already half-drunk. 

You did your best to pretend everything was fine for the sake of his friends. But the horror movie and the constant, subtle jabs sent your way had been the last straw. You're still recovering from the monsters you’ve fought more than once, and Wes knows you hate horror. He knows. But he doesn’t care. He’s never cared.

So you broke up with him in front of everyone. Snatched his dad’s finest whiskey from his liquor cabinet, and walked out. Problem is, it’s nearly midnight now and you’re walking through Hawkins alone. No one to call. Nowhere to go. 

The first headlights you’ve seen in eons beam behind you, lighting up the darkness. You clutch your drink closer to your chest and turn your face away, just in case it’s someone you know. But the car stops. And when you don’t look back, the driver honks. Fuck. You think it’s Wes, but when you turn around, you find a car you just about recognise to be Steve Harrington’s. Sure enough, his big-haired silhouette fills up the driver’s seat. Somehow, that’s even worse. 

He rolls down the window. “What are you doing out here on your own?”

“None of your business,” you mutter. 

When you attempt to walk away, Steve begins rolling the car to match your pace. “Hey. I can give you a ride. It’s no problem.”

“I don’t need a ride from you.”

He flinches as though it’s a physical blow — but still doesn’t leave you be. “Y/N… what the hell’s going on? Just get in the car.”

“What are you even doing here?” you snap, whipping around to face him. “God, what is it with you? You’re always around when something bad happens! Is it you? Are you cursing me or something?”

His lips part as though surprised, and you only realise then that you probably look like shit, your makeup running and your steps hindered by the whisky. You silently beg that he drives away, because the last thing you need is to breakdown in front of Steve Harrington, the one guy you’ve never been able to get along with. He’s the reason you’re always dragged into monster-hunting and Russian-spying. The reason why you hate horror movies and are scared of the dark. 

Finally, he softens, opening the passenger-side door and patting the empty seat. “C’mon. You’re drunk. Let me take you home.”

You scoff, but it quickly turns into a sniffle. “I’m not going home. I can’t go home like this.” 

“Okay, then you can take my spare room. My parents aren’t home tonight.”

The shadows close in on you, and you know it’s the only option you have. That, or you’ll be wandering around town for the rest of the night, and that never ends well. It didn’t for Barb or Will Byers, at least. 

You slump into his car, shutting the door behind you and trying to ignore his burning gaze. “Fine. Whatever.”

He starts driving, leaving you in the engine-whirring silence. You stare out of the windshield, watching the pines merge into one great big shadow that reminds you too much of Starcourt Mall. 

“No boyfriend tonight?” Steve asks finally, carefully. 

“No. We broke up.”

“Good. He’s a piece of shit.”

You snort because you know it’s true. “Yeah.”

“He didn’t…hurt you or anything?” Steve’s eyes search you, and you fight the urge to cower away.

“No.”

“So, what was the last straw? His shitty taste in movies?” His lip twitches with the attempt at humour. 

“Among other things.” You swig your whisky. “We were just always fighting. That’s all.”

“If Robin was here, she’d be telling you you can do way better.”

You smile softly at that, looking down at the bottle in your lap. “Yeah. They always start off nice, though. Sweet. And then they just… turn.”

“C’mon. You knew Wes was an asshole. Everyone does.”

“Maybe.” Your lip trembles, and you find Steve watching you with something that looks an awful lot like sympathy. You stiffen, an inexplicable wave of sickness washing over you. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.” He returns his attention to the road, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “I just don’t get it. You could date anyone you wanted, but you always choose the worst people in the world.”

“That’s not true.”

He tilts his head. “It’s a little true. Tommy H. Sam. Paul.” He winces and feigns a gag when he says, “Brad.”

Brad had been a particularly bad experience, and your lip curls in disgust. You know he’s right. You pick the wrong people. Problem is, it doesn’t usually feel like a choice. Being alone, feeling lonely… it eats you up, so the second someone asks you out, you’re quick to say yes just to ease that hole in your chest. You’re naive. You hope that if you’re good to them, they’ll love you right. But they never do. 

“Why’d you do it, Y/N?” Steve asks, voice so soft it makes you want to break. You never talk like this. Not without harsh jabs or barbed banter. It makes you want to tell the truth too much. 

You turn your face away as you say, “I guess after all the crazy shit we went through, dating makes me feel normal. Less alone. I guess I’d rather keep getting my heart broken than face monsters and shit.”

Silence passes between you, heavy and thick and humiliating. Your face burns as you wait for the mocking, the scorn, the disbelief. But Steve only says, “I get it. It’s hard being alone after everything we went through. I hate having that big house to myself most nights. It still feels like they’re out there, y’know? Waiting.”

“Yeah.” You pick at the label on your bottle, trying to hide the surprise you feel. Steve always seems so unfazed by what you’ve been through. He just… bounces back like it’s nothing. “Yeah, it does.”

“Did you ever tell Wes?”

You shake your head. “He wouldn’t believe me. I remember… I woke up from a nightmare once, screaming, and he… he told me to shut up ‘cos he had to get up early for work.”

Steve hisses. “Jesus. What a dick.”

You don’t even know why you’re telling him; only that you feel like you can. Should. He’s the only one who gets it. It’s what makes you say, “I’m sorry. For the way he treated you today.”

“No need to apologise. For what it’s worth, it meant a lot that you said something. I wasn’t expecting that.”

You're almost at his house now, the pointed roof breaking through the trees. “Yeah, well, you’re a pain in my ass, Harrington, but you don’t deserve to be mocked. We’re all just trying to get by, right? We’re not in high school anymore.”

Steve pulls up outside his house, the porch lights twinkling in the darkness. But when the engine cuts out, neither of you move. Instead, he unfastens his seatbelt and twists towards you. “You seemed upset today. Were you already fighting, or…?”

You shake your head, unable to put it into words. “A lot happened today.”

“Like what?”

You scrape your hair back, whetting your dry lips. You shouldn’t tell him. You don’t want him to see you this vulnerable. It’s easier when you’re at each other’s throats, pretending that there isn’t a flame guttering between the two of you. But you’re not sure how much longer you can keep everything to yourself. All this pain. “I was late.”

“To Family Video?” he asks innocently.

You almost laugh. “No. My period was late, Steve.”

His eyes widen. “Oh.”

“I thought maybe… I mean, we were being careful, but it’s not always enough. So I needed to take a pregnancy test. Wes lost his shit. Started accusing me of trying to trap him. And then when the test came back negative, he still kept treating me like shit. All fucking day. We were supposed to be having a date night tonight, but he invited a tonne of his friends and got drunk. And he told everyone. He told everyone I thought I was pregnant, and I was trying to trap him, and it probably wasn’t even his because I’m a slut or whatever. You came up, actually. Said since I was defending you so much in the video store, this fictional, non-existent baby could have been yours.” You give a mirthless chuckle, feeling nauseous when Steve frowns. Not with sympathy, but with worry. With anger. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. I’m… That’s fucked up. God.”

“Good riddance, I guess.” You wipe your damp eyes, faking another smile, but it only makes you break. 

“Hey,” Steve whispers, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve you. You deserve someone you can trust. Someone who’ll watch shitty romcoms with you.”

You laugh again at that, this time with humour. “They’re not shitty.”

“You’re right. Michael Douglas is a total hunk.”

“Right?” you agree. “Kinda into Kathleen Turner, too.”

“She’s smoking,” he agrees. And then you’re both laughing. Really laughing. And something is changing here, in this car, because you realise that for all his flaws, you can trust Steve Harrington with anything. 

“Hey, I’m pretty sure my mom has a copy of Romancing the Stone somewhere,” he offers. “Still wanna watch it?”

“You don’t have to pretend it’s your mom’s, Steve. If anything, owning that video only makes you way cooler than I thought you were.”

“Okay, fine,” he mumbles. “It’s mine.”

Your heart twinges with a fondness you usually hide from. “It sounds nice. Thank you.”

He pulls his keys from the ignition. Gives you another reassuring smile. “Let’s go.”

So you do, spending the rest of the night on Steve’s couch while you watch your favourite movie. And he doesn’t complain once.