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hairmetal666 · 9 months

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Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #oneshot #angst #friends to lovers #angst with a happy ending #idiots in love #mutual pining #famous eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #regular guy steve harrington #pathetic gay yearning #fluff #the one that got away #second chances #getting together

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upsidedownwithsteve · 15 days

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A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3.7K]

THE TIMELINE

"There was something 'bout you that now I can't remember, It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender. And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning, I never know what to think about. I think about you."

- About You By The 1975

V. HAWKINS, INDIANA: 1988

Two years had passed since the last gate had closed and despite the aftermath of the “earthquakes,” Vecna had yet to make any sort of reappearance.

Max’s bones healed, eventually, and she regained most of her sight, relying on thick lensed glasses when she grew tired or the words in her books turned blurry. Nancy went to college, Jonathan tried it for a year, Hopper took El on a month-long camping trip to see something other than the town repairing itself and Lucas went to therapy.

Soon, each kid followed suit, attending sessions that eventually helped them sleep a little better because even though they couldn’t tell the person on the other side of the coffee table about monsters and the world under their feet, there had been enough death and suffering to fill the hour with regardless.

Dustin told Steve he should go too and Robin agreed. After Eddie’s funeral, the one where they all stood with Wayne, a guy from the garage Eddie worked at on weekends and the remaining Hellfire members beside a small gravestone, they had another one.

A second ceremony near the woods behind Eddie’s trailer, close to where he died, to where Dustin had found him bleeding and proud. The kids cried and Joyce held on tight to Will while Jonathan hugged Nancy and Dustin punched a tree trunk. It felt better than the first one, easier somehow, when they didn’t have to lie and hide the guilt they had at knowing each and every one of them felt a little shame in having a hand in someone’s else’s death.

But it was closure.

The town healed, roads were repaired, houses rebuilt, new flowers planted in the park in memory of those who had been lost in the accident - the natural disaster that made headlines, the one that no one could have predicted.

Steve helped Dustin clean Eddie’s grave when the spray paint covered the dead boy’s name. Robin stopped crying when she looked in the mirror each morning. Jonathan left his room.

The kids got better. They smiled more, went to the new arcade on opening day, shared slushies and rode their bikes around town again. Joyce visited Wayne when she could, took him pies and meatloaf and eventually got him out of his armchair and into a coffee shop for a full hour. Hopper got his job back, had a ceremony that preceded the funeral he had years before and Robin managed to get her and Steve a sweet gig at the record store that replaced Family Video.

It felt fresh. New. Clean.

So why was Steve still dreaming about gates?

For the third night in a row, he woke up gasping. A yell stuck in his throat that tasted like metal, like blood, and he was drenched. Shirtless, his sheets stuck to his chest, the weight of them tangled around his legs in a sickly familiar way, vines tugging at his ankles. His room was dark, the house empty, too quiet. Quiet enough that his breath ripped from his lungs in harsh pants, his head pounding from the exertion of running in his dream, back in a place that he hadn’t seen in almost twenty one months.

At first, he dreamt of death.

Of Eddie and how they found him lifeless and in Dustin’s arms. How Max was barely conscious in the attic of the Creel House, her body broken in ways that no doctor could understand. He dreamt of how he had pulled Lucas away from her, the boy sobbing and yelling, fighting with more strength than he knew he had as Steve tried to restrain him just enough for the paramedics to get Max into the ambulance.

Then the dreams turned empty. He dreamt of losing everyone, Robin, Dustin, Hop. El was gone, Will too, Mike nowhere to be found. Nancy’s house was empty, Joyce and Jonathan didn’t exist and Steve sat alone in a town that turned grey, crumbling to dust until the vines came back and the clouds turned red.

He ran miles every night, searching for his friends, his family. Woke up to shaking breaths and sore legs like he’d really sprinted across a town that was no longer home and each morning when the sun rose, he sat with a coffee and his bare legs dipped in the pool in his backyard. He stared at the water until the ripples blurred and wondered how long it would take for Barb to come haunt him too, if she’d reappear in his dreams despite the years that had gone by, if she’d come crawling back out of his pool like she used to, dripping wet and with no eyes.

But Barb never came and he stopped dreaming of the kids, stopped hearing Lucas’ screams, stopped seeing Max in a hospital bed with blood coming from her eyes and eventually, one night, he dreamt of a gate that he’d never seen before.

It didn’t even really look like a gate.

Not the ones Steve knew. It wasn’t framed by dead vines, it didn’t pulsate, it didn’t have a red glow coming from its innards. This one didn’t look like rotting flesh, like a wound in the earth that couldn’t be healed. This one wasn’t at the bottom of a lake, lined with wet moss and cracked rocks, it wasn’t in the Munson trailer nor in the middle of the woods.

This one opened on a blank wall in Steve’s bedroom, replacing the shelves where his old basketball trophies sat, where he usually left his pile of clothes before falling into bed. In the dream, it started as a crack, a crumbling of plaster and blue plaid wallpaper and Steve watched it open, a yawning thing that split the room and bathed it in light. It was too bright at first, like blinking into a summer sun. And once the white-hot of it cleared from Steve’s eyes, he saw blue skies and he could smell the ocean.

There were trees he’d never seen before in real life, something out of a movie, tall and green and narrow as they swayed in a breeze he couldn’t really feel from his spot on his bedroom carpet. The buildings were a pinky-peach colour, like clay, with orange slate tiles and there were foundations and statues carved into the walls, water trickling from the mouths of gods and vases that stone faced women held in their marble arms.

It was like looking at a painting, a canvas between his bed and his old desk, framed with olive branches and large, red fruits that protruded from the gates mouth.

Pomegranates.

Steve could smell them, a sweetness that mixed with the ocean air, a kind of freshness that you couldn’t find between the fields and farms that surrounded Hawkins. In the dream, he wanted to move closer but found that he couldn’t, his eyes wide and his bare feet rooted to the spot as he stared at the scene. It felt like a memory the more he looked, the buildings becoming familiar, a baby blue door that looked like somewhere he’d once owned the keys to and the cobbled streets became a well walked way home.

Then, as if he weren’t supposed to really see it, he spotted something move in an upstairs window. Two houses from the front of the gate, with rusted shutters and white linen curtains, he saw a girl stand between them.

A pretty girl, with eyes he knew he’d seen before, in a white dress that he was sure he remembered the feeling of.

The sight of her made Steve’s heart hammer, the dream making him dizzy, the realisation that he knew that girl making the line between unconsciousness and reality a little blurry. He didn’t know her name, or where he knew her from. He didn’t even know where he was looking or why the gate was there.

But he stared and stared until the girls eyes met his and before he could lift his hand, or even try to speak, there was a crack that seemingly came from the sky - the one above Hawkins or the one inside the gate, he didn’t know - but something flashed, the gate went dark and the rip in his bedroom wall stitched itself back up.

He woke up feeling like he’d remembered and forgotten something all at once. Like a book he’d read back in middle school, a photo he’d once misplaced, a song he hadn’t heard in years but still remebered some of the words too.

He knew her. He knew her.

Steve thought about the girl so much, so often, that it didn’t take him long to think of her, to refer to her, as you. You were someone he’d once known, from a memory or another dream, he wasn't sure. It was the same feeling as watching a movie and seeing a pretty actress on screen, in a different outfit with different hair but knowing her face and wondering what show he’d seen her in before.

Except with this, there was an aching want that buried itself in his chest at the sight of you, an awful feeling that grew larger each night. And every time his wall cracked open again, it seemed like his ribs did too. A crushing feeling, a yawning expanse inside his body that made room for the way his heart seemed to grow and grow at the sight of you.

Yearning, that’s what he thought it was. A slow, burning build of it.

The second night, he dreamt of you in a garden. A sprawling, green lawn with a pond so green-blue it made his eyes hurt. There was an awning beside it, a pergola of sorts made of white stone and it had ivy growing between the pillars, covering the roof and reaching down to trail its flowers in the water below. You were closer than before, than you were in the window, and Steve could see the way your lashes hit your cheeks as you looked down, stitching something that you held in your lap.

There was a wicker basket beside you, a loaf of fresh bread wrapped in a cloth and he could still smell pomegranates, sweet and tart. There was a space beside you on the blanket, enough room for two but no one else came.

You were always alone.

Steve tried to talk to you, to reach out and see if this gate worked like the others, if he could walk through into this other world, this other dimension, but it didn’t work.

Not yet, anyway.

You seemed to notice him more on the fifth night, as he watched you walk along the edge of a lake. Your hair was shorter now and your clothes had changed. They look more modern, more like his, the cabins behind you reminiscent of a summer camp, a holiday lodge or something. He could hear music, a song he swore he heard on the radio not too long ago and that night, you watched him back.

It seemed like you were waiting for someone. And when Steve saw your face light up with a smile, his heart stumbled. You raised your arm, reaching out a hand to the edge of the gate, off to the side as if someone else was in Steve’s walls. He saw another hand reach for yours, larger, definitely male, with a freckle where the thumb joined the palm.

The jealousy he felt was unmatched, a burning thing that scorched his chest and his throat, hot needles at the back of his mouth. Before the man came into view, the crack in his wall trembled and the gate stitched itself closed once more, leaving plaster dust and flakes of paint on his carpet.

Apart from the small mess, no one would have ever guessed another world opened up inside of Steve Harrington’s bedroom each night.

It took him a week and half to notice his hand had a freckle in the same spot. A small beauty mark he’d never really paid attention to before, painted in the space that joined his thumb to his hand. He tried not to read too much into it, tried not to hold onto the hope that maybe it meant something - because none of this made sense, not really.

They were just dreams. Strange things, brain scrambling things. But it was a welcome reprieve from death and darkness and vines that held onto him too tight. He no longer woke up in a cold sweat, he no longer wished for morning to come, no matter how tired he felt when he opened his eyes.

Steve wondered if anyone else was experiencing these kinds of dreams. If the rest of the party were getting glimpses of other worlds, other timelines. He wasn’t sure what they were, too scared to ask, too afraid to make everyone else worry. The thought that these dreams could be a trick crossed his mind more than once, a new tactic from Vecna, an infiltration of his sleep that was meant to lull him into some kind of false sense of security.

Safety - an unknown feeling.

But everyone else spent their days talking about school and their new bosses, the fair that was coming to town to celebrate the town hall finally being rebuilt. No one mentioned Vecna or dreams or gates or girls they knew from somewhere they couldn’t place.

So Steve accepted the fact that whatever these dreams were - whatever they meant - they were just for him. Which meant that you were his too.

Weeks went by with Steve viewing you from the split in his wall, sometimes hearing music, sometimes hearing your muffled voice. Never real words, never loud enough to hear and it didn’t seem like you could hear him either. But Steve watched, enraptured, following you around different parts of the world, new countries and scenes that he could never really place but, oh my god, each one felt like home with you in it.

Then one night, he saw himself.

He felt the surge of panic flood him even in his sleep, his body jolting against his bed as he saw the familiar face, staring back at him, nonplussed. He looked a little different, maybe older. His hair was shorter at the back, cropped closer to the nape of his neck but the biggest difference was how happy he looked.

This Steve, the one in his dream, inside this gate - this Steve from another time, another life - he looked lighter. He didn’t have purple smudges under his eyes, no deep lines settling across his forehead from frowning so much. His clothes were different too, looser, less fitting, the colours more muted. He wore a pair of jeans that looked much more comfortable than his tight Levi’s, a soft burgundy sweater that had the sleeves rolled up.

Steve didn’t recognise where this dream took place, but he knew it wasn’t Hawkins. America, yeah, the street signs and licence plates on the cars in the street giving that detail away, but he wasn’t too sure where. The buildings were bigger, shinier, more glass than brick but the skies were still blue and it looked peaceful, warm.

Safe.

Dream Steve strolled down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, looking back over his shoulder every now and then as if to make sure the real Steve was following him. He walked past storefronts and stopped to pet a dog, a golden retriever who was waiting for his owner outside of a bakery. When he came to a bookstore, Steve could see a large building in the distance, a huge billboard atop it that looked like it was advertising a new movie, or a show maybe. It didn’t have much details on it, no actors nor dates to tell what year this was supposed to be.

Certainly not 1988.

It only had lettering across it, big and bold and red against a pristine white background: “ANOTHER LIFE.”

The bell to the bookstore jingled and then Steve saw you. As pretty as you had been in every other gate, every other world, every other lifetime. Like a figurine inside a snow globe, like something from a fairytale. Steve had never seen you this close before.

He watched your smile, the way it widened at the sight of his counterpart, this other version of him. You were so pretty that his breath got caught in his lungs, his sleeping body kicking out in shock when you lunged at the dream version of him, throwing your arms around his shoulders in greeting.

Steve watched the two figures embrace on the street, he watched how this luckier man got to bring his hand to your cheek and hold to there to kiss, how his lips - Steve’s own lips - met your own and parted them, mouths melting together in something that was so much more than a quick hello.

Steve didn’t have it in him to feel jealous then. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He watched the hand that held your jaw, the thumb that caressed your cheekbone as you grinned into him, your own hands clutching his waist now. There was a freckle, the same as the one he had on his own hand, in the matching spot on yours. This Steve took that hand and kissed that very mark, smacking kisses across your palm and up your wrist until you were laughing, head thrown back, eyes bright.

Steve hadn’t seen anything so happy.

He woke up before the dream finished, before the gate closed. Steve woke up with tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, his vision blurry in the navy gloom of his bedroom. It wasn’t yet morning. There was no gate on his bedroom fall, no new city between the plaid striped wallpaper.

He thought it could’ve been Chicago, maybe New York. Perhaps Philadelphia.

He wondered if he left and went looking for that bookstore, that street, that billboard, he’d find you too. If he was supposed to, if you were real, if this life was all he was supposed to get.

Something told him otherwise, that open crack inside his chest that made him ache for hours after he awoke. He never forgot about you during the day, each life he’d watched you live, how you had grown your hair out and then cut it, how you seemed to change your clothing depending on where you were, from old petticoats to jeans and shirts with logos on them he’d never seen before.

Steve felt like he’d lived a thousand lives with you.

He wasn’t sure what he had to do to get you in this one.

After two weeks of dreaming of this life with you, one that he was so sure would happen, he spoke to Joyce. He waited until the kids dragged Hopper out into the yard to help them with some sort of rocket they wanted to make and he found her in the kitchen. It was the closest kind of feeling he had to home - bar from the sight of you, but he wasn’t really sure if that counted when he was asleep.

So he tried to sound casual when he leaned over the Byers kitchen counter, elbows avoiding the jelly stains that Mike had left after making a sandwich, and asked, “hey, uh, do you believe in soulmates?”

Joyce blinked at him, flour and butter between her fingers as she tried to turn the page in her recipe book back to the instructions for apple pie. The book flopped shut when she let go, her hands reaching for a rag instead. Her eyes never left Steve’s.

“Uh, well. I guess so,” she paused, head tilted to the side as she watched the younger man, how his cheeks turned pink and his gaze fell to the floor. “I haven’t thought about it all that much. Why’d you ask?”

Steve didn’t know what to say then. So he floundered, flushed in the face and nose scrunched as he ran his fingers through his hair too harshly, hoping that no one else walked in. What was he supposed to say? That he was dreaming of gates in his bedroom walls? But it was okay? ‘Cause these ones didn’t have monsters or creatures set out to kill him, no, these gates held something that he thought he’d once had, that they held something he was so sure he was supposed ot have again?

Maybe, just not in this life.

Maybe, this time, something was broken. Wires were crossed, cut, unravelled. Maybe the upside down messed up a timeline, maybe it ripped apart whatever plan it had originally laid out for Steve Harrington.

He didn’t know. But he knew it sounded crazy, even in his head.

So he shrugged and said, “no reason.”

And then that night, after Joyce gave him funny looks over the dinner she served him and the rest of his friends, the kitchen table full, he went home and lay on his bed, hardly bothering to pull the sheets over his bare chest.

He counted his breaths, hoped for sleep and wished for you.

Like always, his room grew darker, his lids heavier and the crack in his bedroom wall crumbled and split until the dust settled and he saw your face. You were alone this time, pretty as ever and in the same looking city he’d last seen himself in. The skies were blue behind you, the buildings still tall and shiny looking, all glass window panes and metal framework. If he concentrated enough, he could smell summer.

Hot tarmac and sunscreen, fresh fruit from one of the stores behind you, tart lemons and freshly ground coffee.

You were looking right at him and even in his sleep, Steve smiled. Your eyes were pretty, too pretty, the colour bright and your gaze excited as you gazed at him. Like you’d been waiting. You held out a hand, coaxing, kind, soft, patient. And for the first time, when Steve reached out too, his hand slipped through the gate.

He was right, about the season, about it being summer. The air inside this world was warm on his skin, like the sun was on him despite being sprawled out in the blue gloom of his dark bedroom. It felt like a July morning, right before the heat hit.

He was almost touching your fingers when he woke up alone again.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington au

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seraphinitegames · 12 days

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I remember you mentioned that the Detective and their respective LIs are their romantic soulmates and that their platonic soulmates are the Bravo member they choose to be best friends with!

When you talked about soulmates existing, it got me questioning this: are Unit Bravo familial soulmates to one another and does this apply to the Units we've encountered in the Agency? (Unit Alpha, Unit Victor)

In Book 3, I observed how the MC wonders if most Units in the Agency are just naturally close! One of my biggest favourite tropes of all time and will never be topped is "Found Family" so... 😭🫶

ANYWAYS! Thanks for creating TWC! I've been in it for over 2 years now and I can't wait to see what you have in store for Book 4 and the rest of the series!

I think that's a top trope for a lot of people, including myself, hehe! :D

A lot of the units become very much like family because of how long they've worked together (verging on a century for some teams!), which is why most of the units have that very easy way around each other.

I love the idea of soulmates of all kinds: romantic, platonic, etc. So Wayhaven definitely has plenty of them on display, hehe! The idea that bonds are so strong that they are strengthened by fate and magic...just gets me every time!

Unit Bravo and Alpha are very good examples of that!

Thank you so much for the ask and amazing message! <3

#the wayhaven chronicles #asks #interactive fiction #unit bravo #vampires #soul mates

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luveline · 2 years

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hey gorgeous! I'm jonesing for a little bit of Steve telling pregnant reader she needs to take it easy/rest/sit down while giving her and bump some much-needed love. I just want him to fret those cute eyebrows and help her sit down and give some "easy there, mama" energy. (but if not your vibe rn no worries I love you regardless) 💕

idk if this is easy there mama but i tried ily | pregnant!reader

Steve gets home from the store and can't believe what he finds. He can tell from the way you're sitting that everything is hurting you. Youre on your knees by the freezer and suffering from it all — aching back, swollen feet, shortness of breath, all the worst pregnancy ailments.

He's glad to see you sat down, he just wishes it were on the couch. Or better yet, he wishes you were laid up in bed with one of your books.

"Baby, what are you doing?" he asks, dropping the keys in the fruit bowl and quickly sitting down beside you.

You're elbow deep in frozen foods. The cold of the freezer instantly hits him, and smashed ice melts and seeps into his jeans. He looks down at your wet knees and blows his top before you can say a thing.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm de-icing," you say with a quizzical twist to your mouth.

"Do me a favour?" You nod. "Go away."

You gawp at him. He takes your chilled face into his hands and kisses an affectionate triangle over your features, pecks dropped from one cheek to the other, your lips as sweet as they always are even parted in surprise.

"Are you mad at me?" you ask as you stand, sighing in pain.

He frowns at you. "Extremely."

Once he's quickly mopped up the water and hastily shoved the contents of the freezer back inside to prevent any further metlage he comes to find you on the couch, half-lying with your legs tucked up. Your shirt has ridden up the curve of your bump, not too big yet but certainly noticeable.

"Can I give bump a kiss?" he asks.

You nod happily and sink further into the couch. Steve raises your shirt, kisses your distended tummy and then tucks your shirt firmly back down. He spreads a thick throw blanket over you. Over both of you.

"Can I give you a kiss?" he asks.

"Still mad?"

"I wasn't mad. But you really gotta stop, dummy. Your back is never gonna feel better if you don't."

"But what if we get all the way to the day my waters break and suddenly I remember we haven't de-iced the freezer?"

"I will personally make sure that the freezer gets de-iced," Steve says. He rolls his eyes like he can't believe you but really he understands the worry. He laughs as he sits down beside you, careful and eager to bask in your closeness as he adds, "That's exactly the kind of thing we'd do."

"I know! I was thinking about it," — Steve takes your hand and pulls it to his chest, eyes on your lips as you talk a little more slowly than usual — "and I really thought, God, that's something we're gonna forget. Thought I'd do it while we remember."

You yawn and it breaks your face up into wrinkles. He resists the urge to kiss each one as you relax, eyes on your cheek. He knows exactly where his lips would fit. Just below your eye.

"I'm gonna make sure that doesn't happen," he reassures you, indulging in his wants and leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You take the kiss with a thoughtful hum and then turn abruptly to grin at him head on. "Did you get oranges?"

"Sure did. Want them now?"

"S'not me who wants them. Baby craves them. I'm the messenger."

Steve wraps his arms around your shoulder and your bump simultaneously, pulling you to him. You melt like hot toffee, each bit of you but your bump somehow managing to reshape against his figure as it always does.

"Could you tell her to want oranges at a more reasonable hour?"

"You tell her."

He smiles at you in bemusement and lowers his face to your stomach, holding your gaze as he says, "Baby, would you please hold off on the cravings? A guy wants an evening in with his girl."

"Talk to her, not me!"

Steve looks at your blanket covered bump and tries to picture her on the other side. As soon as he does he finds that going out in the late evening for a grocers bag of oranges is far from the most he's willing to do.

"I love you," he says.

You giggle. "Okay, now you can talk to me."

He raises his gaze to yours, chest burning with content. "I love you."

"I love you, Stevie." You tilt your head to the side and stroke a silky lock of hair from his face. "She loves you too."

"How'd you know?" he asks.

"I'm suddenly really craving an orange again."

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #mom!reader #dad!steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #pregnant!reader #pregnancy cw

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somewherebetweendisorder · 5 months

Text

The Life We Build

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff ?? i think that's it

A/N: originally posted to my old blog (basicallybats). i was originally writing it as an eddie munson fic, but i really wanted it to be jason, so if you notice any typos or mistakes, no you don't. as always, thank you for reading! <3 i do not give permission to copy, repost, or use my work in any way.

"We need to go to the grocery store."

Your hands are buried in Jason's hair, thick waves curling around your fingers, soft and smelling faintly of your conditioner.

"Huh? Why?"

He tips his head back, so he can see your face, fingers freezing, a page caught between them. You recognize the book. It's your annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice. A soft smile curls at your lips, something painfully saccharine about the fact he prefers your copy; your thoughts.

"Because we have no food, Jay. Did you use my conditioner again?"

"Yeah."

"I know. I can smell it on you."

He snorts, eyes closing as you continue to massage his scalp, shaking his head lightly. "Then why did you ask?"

"I just wanted you to 'fess up. Now c'mon, we need to get food, for real. There's like, half a jar of peanut butter and a beer."

"Sounds like a decent enough dinner."

You remove your hands from his soft locks, and he whines, sitting up and carefully setting your book on the bed beside him. Jason doesn't want to go, you know that, can see the distaste and boredom brewing in his eyes already, but he will go, for you.

"Fine. Get dressed. Let's go."

You pull on an old, well-worn tee of his, slipping on your shoes and trailing him down the hall. He holds open the front door for you, locks it behind himself, jogs down the stairs to meet you at the passenger side door, swinging it open with a flourish.

The drive to the store is quiet, Jason tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the music on the radio, bobbing his head gently, one hand on your thigh. The smile on your face didn't go unnoticed as he snuck glances at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Gotham is a god-forsaken place. Smog, trash, the highest crime rate in the nation, and a mile-long list of casualties. Jason remembers what it felt like to be back. The whisper of trauma is at the forefront of his mind. The memories, good and bad, all shot through with something unshakeably bitter. Part of him will always love Gotham, just as part of him will always hate it. But you- You are beautiful. The sort of beautiful that frequently had his heart stalling, breath burning in his lungs when he forgot how to breathe at the sight of your sunny smile, and bright eyes. Your personality and laugh, uncensored and genuine.

You are Jason's diamond in the rough. He can't bring himself to hate Gotham quite the way he did before you, but he can't shake the thought that you'll never reach your full potential here. A flower without enough sunlight can't fully bloom. Fuck, everyone knows Gotham is where good things go to die.

As Jason grabs a shopping cart you walk next to him, sliding your arm through his, a sort of camaraderie.

"We should make a casserole this week," you suggest, eyes reading the signs above the aisles, trying to piece together a meal plan in your head.

"What kind of casserole?"

You sigh, distracted, uncertain. "I don't know. Never mind. I've never even made a casserole."

He bumps his hip against yours gently, silently asking for your attention. He waits until you look at him to speak, lips twitching into a soft smile. "We have that cookbook your grandma gave us. And lasagna counts as a casserole. You've made that plenty of times."

"Does it?"

"Sure."

He's bent on reassurance. Jason knows this is new; cooking is hardly your forte. It would be easier to let him do the cooking, but you've been so eager, and you're taking to it really well. He hates the insecurity bubbling in your voice, he wants it gone. At his insistence, you soften, a bit of tension leaving your shoulders as you nod.

"Okay, we can make lasagna. And what else?"

Your gaze catches on the fresh flowers, bright and fragrant, their sweet smell permeating the air. You look at Jason, desperately curious to see if they've caught his attention too, but they haven't. He's looking at a rack of magazines, leather jacket pulled taught across his shoulders, green eyes crinkling in the corners as he squints at the cover of the newest scandal magazine.

"Good God, Dick is on the cover of another fucking tabloid. I thought he-"

It's an odd thought, this sudden need to pick out flowers with your boyfriend. You long to talk about where you should put them, what color would match your sofa and look nicest in front of the window.

"Jason."

It's not the fact you use his name, his birth name, though this is unusual for you. It's always 'baby' or 'Jay' or 'babes'. No, it's the way you say it. Thick and serious, something he hadn't quite heard before, an almost severe expression taking over your pretty features.

"Y/N? Yeah, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing, just- Can we get some flowers?" He watches you shake your head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

It's the domesticity of it. A tender, mundane thing catching up to you as those things often do. Something painfully sweet about it, stability your life lacked until Jason. And now? Now going to the grocery store with him was better than anything you did before. Like cooking, like cleaning, like laying in bed all day, face pressed mercilessly into his skin, breathing him in as he reads to you, just because you could. It was an insatiable craving, one you needed fulfilled right now.

"Sure, baby. You wanna pick some out?"

Your nod is almost imperceptible, arm still curled around his, goosebumps creeping along your flesh. He sees. Sees the light in your eyes, knows you need this moment. Jason knows that every day like this erases those brutally lonely hours from before. Minutes marked with blood and grief, a bitter memory. He knows because these moments do the same for him, setting things right he wasn't sure could be fixed.

Fuck, he'll buy all the flowers here if it brings the carefree smile back to your lips. "What kind do you want?"

"I- I'm not sure. Anything. I'll know the right ones when I see 'em."

He peruses the bouquets, at a loss, this is far outside his comfort zone, but if it makes you happy.

Your wonder hurts his heart, wide eyes and shock every time you find new colors squished together, or flowers you haven't seen before. You should have been given flowers all the time. He checks the price of the bunch in his hands and winces. What he wouldn't give to buy you flowers like this every day. Maybe he should, he thinks.

"How about these?"

Your eyes fall on the wild bouquet of rich, wine roses, flowers in full bloom, overlapping each other, fighting for the gaze of the beholder. They're gorgeous, you can feel them without touching the silken petals, velvet. "They're nice."

He sees it on your face, the dismissal, the gentle rejection. The flowers are pretty, too pretty even, gaudy, and suffocating. They're the type of thing that would fit well in Bruce's home, but not yours. Far too formal, far too showy; you want something sweeter.

"They don't match… Anything at home."

"We'd have to pick weeds to match our apartment."

His words come too fast, voice flat, deadpan, shooting for humor, missing, falling by the wayside in a shallow bitterness. He sees the hurt in your expression the instant the words gush past his lips, a geyser of ill-timed distress. Fumbling, rushing forward, trying to make it right, he presses on. "I'm kidding. That was an exaggeration. We make a nice life. It's just we-"

He stops, letting the chatter of other patrons and the store radio fill the silence as he watches tears build in your eyes, shimmering beneath the harsh fluorescents.

"I'm kidding."

You know he wasn't. He meant the words, frustrated with dead-end jobs and your meager incomes, scraping by with just enough. He wanted more for you, more for himself, more of a future. But all you heard was the immediate dissatisfaction. It wasn't enough, it was never enough.

You shove the small cluster of sunflowers you're holding into his chest, plastic wrapping crinkling, flowers smushed against his chest with the severity of your action.

"I need to use the restroom. You can put these back. I'll meet you at the checkout."

"Baby I- Y/N!"

You run. There's not enough care in your bones to think about how odd it is for a grown woman to be running through the store, stumbling into the restroom, tears already tracking down her face.

Hands braced against the cool countertop, you stare at the water droplets scattered across the laminate from whoever last washed their hands. It's a fascinating pattern, water catching the light. A tear falls, splatters on the surface, and shines too. How pathetic are you that you're hiding in here, waiting for the onslaught of emotion to pass before you can face your boyfriend again? Before you can face his disdain?

Minutes drag by, the tears slowing and finally stopping. Red eyes stare back at you, bloodshot and hollow. With a harsh tug, you turn on the faucet, splashing cool water on your face, hoping it soothes the obvious signs of crying.

Time is up, you can't stall any longer. With a fortifying gulp of oxygen, you drag the paper towel harshly across your face, wiping away the water, and push the door open. Jason is waiting there, shopping cart abandoned a few feet away, leaning against the wall, local business cards pinned to the wall next to store notices, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Baby."

You're frozen, eyes locked on the overlapping flyers and cards on the wall over his shoulder, unable to meet his gaze. Jason can see it. The remnants of salt tracks on your cheeks, eyes red and puffy, lashes clumped together from the water you hastily splashed on your face in a harried attempt to cover your reaction.

He wishes he could rewind, take back the past few minutes, and unsay those words, spare you the heartache. He knows he can't; it's a pointless wish, spent in vain like the coins he tossed in the well with his mother all those years ago.

"Baby," he repeats, voice low, shoulders sagging when you ignore him. "Y/N, just look at me, please."

His voice isn't him, isn't Jason, viscid like a flower soaked with dew, drooping beneath his regret. He's too pretty, too serious, you shouldn't let him wallow in it, you know that. But his words were too real, too close to that oozy, rotten spot in your heart that cries for acceptance.

It takes everything in you to drag your gaze to his, jarring when you meet those eyes, deep and sorry, churning like an earthen ocean, soil and sediment devouring itself. It's like watching the earth cave in. It's alarming, unsettling, it makes you want to touch his face and beg for the promise that it's all okay.

Is it though?

"I'm sorry. What I said- It came out wrong. I would never insult the life we've built, I-"

"You did though, Jay. You did insult it. You pissed all over it."

Jason winces at your bluntness, nearly an idiom, yet far from it. He focuses on your words, playing them over and over, watching your lips twist sardonically, building a wall around yourself. "It's fine, okay? I get it."

"No, you don't." He finds his voice, gruff with the nasty feeling building in his stomach, unable to be gentle in the wake of his own despondency.

"Can we just go home? I don't want to have this conversation here."

Movements stilted, uncoordinated he moves to the abandoned shopping cart, hands wrapping around the handle in a white-knuckled grip. He takes two steps, yanks the cart back, and turns to you so abruptly that you nearly collide with his chest.

"No. No, we are going to have this conversation now, otherwise you'll never have it. You know damn well I wasn't insulting you, or our home, or our life."

Blank-faced, eyes a hollow shade of their usual verdancy, you don't show any sign you really heard his words.

He's never felt this before, desperate and shaky with wanting- no needing you to understand. Why does this feel so insurmountable? His hands land on your shoulders, large, hot, scarred, shaking just enough to inspire a rise out of you.

You swat his hands away, fresh tears burning tracks down your face, humiliating, telling. "I care, okay! Damn you, Jason, I care!"

You suck in air too fast, choke on it, a strangled sob dancing on your lips, free falling. Hands useless on his chest, feigning a shove, curling in his soft tee shirt and pulling him closer. Tucked away in your little nook, no one is around, no one sees the mania tainting the air. Lovers begging forgiveness for the transgression of misunderstanding.

He buries his face in your hair, hiding his face, hiding his relief at your touch, at your admission. "I care too. I care that I've tied you to this hell hole with almost no chance of getting out."

"You don't get it, do you?"

Jason can barely hear, your voice smothered by his chest, the fabric of his shirt, his hearing a bit unreliable from too many head wounds. "Get what?"

"I don't want more. I don't want... I don't know what you envision, but my happiness is this. Buying groceries with you and, and- Gotham. My happiness is fucking Gotham if I'm here with you. I don't need-"

"You deserve-"

"Do not interrupt me, Jason Todd!"

He recoils, stung, chastised, conceding quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. "Okay."

"I do not need anything more. I don't need a big house or a safer city to play in or whatever it is you think I ought to have. Deserve? I don't even know what that means. But I want you, and I'm content with this life. Until you start picking it apart and making it seem like it's not good enough for you. I cannot tolerate that. I won't."

He waits, the silence stretching on and on, like the fraying string on a shirt that refuses to snap, until he is certain you're finished.

"You're right."

"That's all?"

"No. It's much more than that. But-"

He releases you, feeling your hands release his shirt slowly, confused as he steps back, raking his hands through his hair.

"You asked me so nicely for flowers. Let's start again. And we can finish at home, like you asked."

You blink. Once, twice, three times, trying to process, waiting to see if any argument floats to the surface of thought, but none does. Nodding, you step to his side, following him quietly to the tables of flowers once more.

It happens at the same moment, your eyes find the simple bunch of sunflowers and baby's breath the second his do. Understated and sweet, the type of flowers to catch your eye and hold it with a strange fascination.

"These?" you ask, eyes never leaving the buds, fingers tentatively caressing the soft petals.

"Yeah. I like those. They're pretty."

They are pretty. And suddenly, you need to see him, touch him. Placing the bouquet back you turn to him, cool hands pressed to his warm cheeks, eyes tracing soft lips, and the strong line of his nose. Those eyes that say secret things to you, things his lips could never speak. The panic and overwhelming nature of the trip are still fresh in your mind, but his eyes say he understands, his eyes reflect the same image as yours and it's less. Less upsetting, less frustrating, less misconstrued.

"I get it too."

Your words soothe the cuts on his heart, shallow and stinging like paper cuts. His lips are on yours before he knows what's happening, no self-control left at this moment.

It's over too fast, a promise, a vow, an apology. You know; you feel it, trying to pass over all of your love in return. It's enough, more than enough because he smiles when he pulls away, kisses a trail up your nose to your forehead, and into your hairline.

"I love you, Jay."

"I love you, Y/N."

Gotham isn't much, your apartment isn't much, and a single bouquet of flowers in your drab little living room is hardly anything at all. But it's plenty for you, plenty for Jason. It's enough.

#jason todd #baby jason #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader

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walaskart · 6 months

Text

Those Green Eyes

Summary: Loki reaches out from beyond the timelines.

Loki x Reader (No use of Y/N)

A/N I'm just trying to get out of my writing slump so I'm writing the first thing that comes to mind: my darkling Loki <3 Will there be a second part? Hopefully! I want to do it from Loki’s perspective. Also yes, this is cheesy because I like cheesy. Love y'all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He came in your dreams, disappearing the second your alarm startled you awake, reminding you of reality. Your life began to feel distant, like there was a part missing only those mischievous green eyes could fill. You rose from bed, rubbing your eyes and trying to grasp on to that laugh you heard last night as you slept. You can’t remember when it started, only how you felt the first time you felt his presence as you slept. As you make your morning coffee, you try to piece together the vague details you could still remember; long, ink black hair, long fingers, his fleeting laugh, those sparkling green eyes. His name. You knew his name it was on the tip of your tongue. L-

Later. Right now you had to focus on what's real, so you walk back to your bedroom, ignoring your unmade bed and picking out an outfit for another day at the antique bookstore you worked at. You picked a simple pink sweater and jeans, too heavy for the summer weather but perfect for the air conditioned store. Now finished with your mug of coffee, you grab your bag with everything you meed for the day and prepare to leave your apartment to start your walk to work.

As you walk down the busy streets of your tourist filled town, suddenly every person you saw reminded you of him. 'Those cheekbones look familiar' 'Those are his lips' 'That’s his hair'. Your eyes dart from person to person, trying to puzzle together the man in your dreams, almost like a collage of features. Though none of them had his eyes. Those effervescent green eyes. Tonight, you think to yourself, I'll look more closely.

Your whole shift, you're head is in the clouds as you answer questions and check out books. You've had dreams of strangers before, but why did he keep reappearing? Why is he stuck in your head? And why can't you remember? You interrogate yourself over and over until your shift ends, looking forward to crashing in bed and see his face once again.

By the time you get home and finish your dinner, you're ready for sleep, somehow feeling closer to him than usual. After your shower, you lie in bed and get as comfortable as you can and feel yourself drift into sleep. I'll see you soon, L-

Your eyes open, taking in your surroundings. Every night it's somewhere different, tonight you're in a field of grass and wild flowers. You look down to see you're wearing a green slip dress and no shoes. You feel the wind rush through your hair and everything returns to you. You remember.

"Loki!" You call, and begin running. You don't know where you're going but you know you'll find him. "Loki!!"

And suddenly there he is. Sitting under a tree in a loose green shirt and black pants, he hears your calls and looks to you with those beautiful green eyes. As he stands and smiles, Loki opens his arms for you to run into.

“My darling,” Loki chuckles as you are enter in his embrace and suddenly you remember every night you've spent with him now. Sitting together, sometimes talking, sometimes not. You remember his stories; his quest for a throne, his family, his adventures, his ending. You remember him listening to your stories of your bookstore in Salem, your search to adopt the perfect cat, your current novel you’re reading. You remember the places he’s taken you in your dreams; any place on Earth you ask for, Asgard, Yggdrasil. Every place was empty, except for the two of you. When you asked, Loki explained none of it was real, just him projecting an image into your dreams.

Tonight, there was no adventure, no stories. Just you and Loki resting in each other’s arms under the tree.

“Good morning, darling.” Loki chuckles and kisses the top of your head. You hear your alarm, quietly at first but slowly growing louder.

As Loki runs his hand through your hair, you think it’d be okay to forget every morning as long as each night you come back to this.

You look up at him and smile. “Until tomorrow night, Loki.”

As long as you come back to those beautiful green eyes.

#loki season 2 #loki x reader #reader insert #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #spoilers for season 2 #marvel #marvel fanfiction #loki laufeyson

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

A reverse human haram with a supernatural reader sounds so cute and dope

(I don't remember names so I apologize in advance)

But like the angel being a human business owner like an antique shop

Baron maybe being a tattoo artist? I feel like it'll fit him

And the reaper could be... Um.. maybe a hacker or something like that? Something that will let him stay inside all day and minimize human interaction.

And there's reader, some kind of a supernatural being, that maybe like going shopping in antiques shops, and getting tattooes... And going on the dark web? 💀

Or maybe the 3 humans already know each other and trying to track down this being for some reason?

Anyway, i just dig the idea:) could be really cute and I also miss those 3 😭

(I Stan librarian Maddox who just draws most of the time and panics when people talk to them)

"Can't one of us just ask them out for coffee? Even in the bizarre scenario they are what you claim, why would this be the best way to go about this?"

"Because your ugly ass would scare them away. Now shut the hell up and Mad give me the next step."

Maddox flips through the pages of the book positioned in their lap, producing a switchblade from their pocket. "All that's left now is a drop of blood from those who wish to form a contract. That's us, I suppose."

Baron, safety be damned, grabs the knife blade first - cupping the warm blood in his hand as he passes it to Alasdair. The shop owner was hesitant, but for the prize at hand he was desperate. He sticks his thumb and gives the knife back to Maddox who does the same.

Baron snorts, blood seeping from his closed fist onto his jeans. "What? Scared of a little nick?"

Alasdair rolls his eyes meanwhile Maddox ignores Baron's remarks as they get into position. What led them all to this situation? Two of them though on equal levels would never be seen together, and the alternative pairs worked as well as water and glue. The binding agent for their group was none other than a visitor shared between their place of business. Those keen eyes that marveled at the antique owner's precious collection of angels. That sweet smile peaking over the librarian's shoulder as they scribbled away behind their desk. The bubbly laughter that gave an ego boost to the tattoo owner and his horrid taste in fashion.

A person capable of bringing these opposites together had to be supernatural in nature, and in a way - you were. Baron discovered this while stalking you to the back alley behind their stores and witnessing you vanish from thin air. Doing more research than he ever had for school projects, Baron reasoned that you had to be a demon. He enlisted the help of Maddox to find a way to get your attention with Alasdair picked up along the way. He was skeptical as any Christian man would be, but since they were using his store for the summoning he had no say.

The trio bring their hands to the center of the circle on the floor and pour the contents onto the piece of your shirt Maddox managed to snip off. They squeeze the tip of their finger as apology and remain the last to pull away as the puddle of bloods turns black and begins to boil. The ground cracks and a skeletal hand reaches through, bones staining in the onyx sludge that creeps up its body creating layers of muscle and flesh. Crawling from the hole, the creature's tongues flicker against the hostile air as smog disburses from its throat. It cracks its jaw as it stands to full height, towering over them all - plucking a bone from its needlepoint fangs.

"That's the last time I try to finish something while being summoned."

Baron speaks up first. "Are... you naked?*

"If I'm not pretending to be a mortal there's no need to put on clothing... Don't I know you all?"

"that's so fucking hot... Ow, bitch!"

Alasdair clears his throat to play off the assault he committed on his peer. "I apologize for our barbaric approach. I'm sure this is as shocking for you as it is for us, but we have gathered here due to a shared interest in winning your heart."

You look around the room. "So.. you all want to date me?"

"Precisely."

"Hell yeah."

"Is that a bad thing?..." The librarian slides their charred notebook at your feet. You pick up the book. What's left of the pages shows you in human form.

"I suppose not. I am bound by contract to whatever your commands are, and if you wish to sell your souls for something like that then so be it. If I'm allowed an opinion, this one has already made a good first impression."

You point your claws beneath Maddox's chin who nearly faints from the contact. Baron's jaw drops to the floor while Alasdair tries, and fails to hold a straight face.

"Come on, Mad you're the last one I thought I'd have to worry about. I thought we were cool!" Baron grabs your arm, eyes bulging out of his sockets at the feel of your harden muscles. "Holy shit.... You said you'd do anything, right?"

"Baron I swear to God if you ask them to crush you with their thighs I'll choke you to death right now."

"I wasn't, chill-.... Their arms would do just fine."

#Supernatural harem #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere blurb #role swap au #yandere drabble #Alasdair my oc #Baron my oc #Maddox my oc #soft yandere

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rottenpumpkin13 · 2 months

Note

more dad friend Angeal and mom friend Genesis pls I need floof 🥺

Angeal And Genesis Parenting Sephiroth Headcanons

• Genesis brushes Sephiroth's hair for him when he's too exhausted or can't muster up the energy to. He makes Sephiroth sit on the bed and takes slow, gentle strokes so that he doesn't hurt him. Sometimes he'll talk softly, others he'll hum or quote a poem.

Sephiroth likes the way Genesis braids his hair over when he does it himself. There's no difference, but Sephiroth claims "it feels better."

• Sephiroth thinks he's being a rotten friend when he steals Angeal's hoodies. He still hasn't caught on that they're all his exact size and preferred style, and will probably never find out that Angeal buys them specifically for him to "steal."

• Genesis likes to eat apples around Sephiroth so he can share it with him. He doesn't think his friend eats enough fruit, and is more than happy to sit with him, cut up pieces with his pocket knife and hand them to him one by one.

• They always put Sephiroth in the middle when they're sitting together.

• This extends to their sleepovers, where Sephiroth sleeps in the middle, sandwiched between them.

• Whenever Genesis and Angeal go grocery shopping (together or alone) they remember to buy Sephiroth snacks he likes and to keep their cupboards stocked with his favorite things. It's one of the many ways they make sure Sephiroth eats since he's prone to forgetting to feed himself.

• Angeal hugs him and doesn't pull away first.

• Angeal likes to cook, Genesis likes to bake on occasion. Sephiroth can cook, but he's not nearly as adept as the other two. Angeal and Genesis share the kitchen sometimes making dinner and dessert respectively.

Sephiroth helps by chopping and stirring things—that is, when he's not sitting on the counter and watching them. Genesis gives him the spoons to lick. Angeal lets him taste things to make sure he likes them.

• Genesis once bought him an "adult" coloring book to see if it would help with stress. He didn't expect Sephiroth to finish it within the week. "Coloring book for Seph" is now a permanent item on his shopping list and he makes sure to check whenever they're running out.

• They will never embarrass Sephiroth by grabbing his hands to cross the street. But Sephiroth walks too fast and often impatiently crosses the street before the light turns green (he has social anxiety to thank for that). So they've developed the habit of walking on either side of Sephiroth and keeping him close, gently nudging him with their arms.

• One time Hojo insisted on keeping Sephiroth overnight to monitor his mako levels. Genesis and Angeal heard this and didn't think twice before going to R&D to stay with him. Sephiroth figured it was the shock of seeing the two SOLDIERs show up at 1 AM that killed Hojo's protests. The three of them sat on a cold metal slab table for hours—with Sephiroth in the middle.

The sound of beeping monitors were drowned out by soft laughter, conversation, and a half-hearted game of Queen's Blood. Eventually Genesis and Angeal fell asleep, slumped on Sephiroth's shoulders. In that moment, Sephiroth forgot what it was like to feel unsafe in the labs.

• Genesis always keeps a spare hair tie or two in his pocket in case Sephiroth needs it.

• Sephiroth once fell asleep on the couch in Angeal's office one night when they were going over assignment details. Angeal knew how little sleep Sephiroth had been getting lately, so he opted to carry him back up to his apartment. Thank the goddess that the only person he ran into was Genesis, who followed them back and made a fuss of getting Sephiroth's bed ready for him.

• One time Gen and 'Geal are standing in line at a store. The lady in friend of them makes an offhand comment about how she's glad her child isn't with her to ask for something from the candy display.

Genesis: Tell me about it.

Angeal: What is it with kids and mediocre candy?

Lady: Oh! You two have a child?

*Genesis and Angeal look over and see Sephiroth excitedly coming towards them. He has a box of limited edition materia lollipops in his hands*

Genesis: Close enough.

#headcanons #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #crisis core

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 3 months

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Skelles with a partner with ADHD

imagine, s/o wonders if they forgot something and realizes they're shaking, and then says "oh that's right, I forgot to eat". I think this scenario with Oak would be interesting, I imagine them talking and they say "what were we talking about?" and Oak "I don't remember either"

This post is for all my ADHD pals (myself included). Some of these might or might have not happened in real life lol.

Undertale Sans - That's the second time you come back home because you forgot something. He's waiting just behind the door with all your missing things and puts them in your arms. He's so used to it with Papyrus than it's quite normal.

Undertale Papyrus - How are you surviving. You were going to go to the grocery store when you both saw flashing pretty colours on a shop facade. That's ten minutes you're just staring at the pretty colours now, hypnotized. By the time you finally get tired of this, you completely forgot what you were doing, it's dark outside and all the shops are closed. Well, shit. Guess you're eating in a restaurant outside because the fridge is empty.

Underswap Sans - You were driving and got distracted, and now you're both somehow in the middle of a random forest with no idea where you're supposed to go. Blue is slowly losing in mind, and eventually, he can't take it anymore. He bursts the door open and starts running at full speed in the forest, just screaming, to calm down. You try to follow him, but then you can't find the road back to the car and decided to just sit on a rock and wait :')

Underswap Papyrus - That's the third time he whines now. Like a puppy. You're focus on a video game for three hours now. He's invisible now. Not only it's his video game in the first place but now he wants attention :( Please? Just a pet? :( He's sad boy.

Underfell Sans - He asked you three times if you had your keys before driving to your vacation place for three hours. In front of the house you rent, you start to pat your pockets, more and more distressed. Red stares at you. You smile apologetically at him. He takes a deep breath and walks behind the house. Then screams and throws bones into the wall. Before coming back, calm, down and telling you they're going back to fetch the keys.

Underfell Papyrus - He flicks you behind the head every time you lose focus. You said you would do your taxes and not let you get distracted. He's taking his role very seriously. He's just standing behind you, arms crossed. You can feel his breath on your neck. Do. Your. Taxes.

Horrortale Sans - So he followed you, not realizing you had no idea where you were going. Since you thought he knew where you two were supposed to go. It takes an hour and three times to pass in front of the same shop for Oak to ask where you're going. And you, just blinking back, saying you thought he knew where you were going. Awkward silence. After a while, you decide to call Willow to ask him where you two are supposed to go...

Horrortale Papyrus - You absolutely wanted to paint and nothing else, so Willow struggled to buy you art stuff in the shortest time. As soon as he gets home, you blink at him and just say "Oh I changed my mind, I like to draw now." Willow takes a deep breath, then turns around. FINE. If you won't have your painting hyperfocus now, he will because it was damn expensive and it's not going to waste.

Swapfell Sans - He's tired of watching you rambling and pacing so he just makes your soul blue and suddenly change your gravity. You fall on your stomach like a dying whale and can't move from the ground now. Nox sighs with relief. You're stressing him out, he needs a break.

Swapfell Papyrus - That's three times he calls you to eat. He grabs your book, climbs a chair, sticks it to the ceiling with super glue, and says you can have it again only after you come and eat. You obey, grumbling. You're not even hungry. You make two steps and collapse because you have actually no energy. Ah.

Fellswap Gold Sans - You keep moving in bed, randomly kicking him in your sleep as you can't keep your legs still. After one too many kicks, he hisses and bites your leg with all he has, which for sure wakes you up. Wine huffs and goes back to sleep like nothing happened. You're too in shock to even proceed what just happened.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - You're fighting to know who has the less anxiety today to move your ass from the couch and go to the grocery store. None of you is ready to move and procrastinate the best you can so the other goes. Coffee tried to yeet you out with his magic but you held on to him and it didn't work. Now you're having a stare battle. You sure you will win.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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reidfucker · 2 months

Text

two left feet

dr. spencer reid knows how to dance. keyword, knows how to — not that he's any good at actually, physically performing it.

or dr. spencer reid asks you to waltz with him.

an itty bitty reid drabble as i try to familiarize myself with tumblr. no beta or second thoughts at all !!! i typed all of this out experimentally. (update: edited it a tad :–D)

oh, and spencer is a trans man. it's not explicitly stated or dwelt upon, but i hope you know.

once reid gets into something, he gets into it. lately, he's been reading up on dancing: in particular, the waltz.

in his silently agreed on corner of the couch, with his feet in your lap as you sat beside him. you see him reading the waltz book, whatever that entailed.

it wasn't uncommon for spencer to be interested by things he completely hadn't dabbled in the past. he usually accumulated facts on a multitude of topics, storing each trinket of knowledge for later use. though, he hardly ever applied those skills after getting familiar with them.

this time, he closes the book, thinking to himself. you can't help but giggle to yourself and wonder, what is so thought-provoking about the waltz? but reid finds something to ponder on even in the most mundane things, so there's no need to question.

"hm." reid hums, getting your attention.

"spence?" you can visibly see his train of thought derail.

"oh– um– i was just wondering if..." he considers his words, "i was just going to ask if you'd like to dance with me."

you grin, "aw, of course. who am i to decline you?"

"um... i'm no good yet. but hey, what's learning without trying?" he gives a shy smile, getting on his feet pushing up his reading glasses, instead of taking them off. you told him he looked cute in glasses, and he'd look cute nonetheless, but you noticed he wears them more often now.

"what songs go well with the dance you have in mind?" you say, browsing through your cd collection.

"would it be cliché if i said 'cant help falling in love' by elvis presley?" spencer stands slightly behind you, sort of waiting for you.

"yeah... very cliché. but it's okay, i'll play it anyway." you can't help but grin at how anxious he is about nearly everything.

"well, it's because my mother loves that song. well, used to, now she can hardly remember things."

you turn to him once the cd is in place, "you don't need to explain yourself to me, spencer. i like the song." you reassure him, "now... shall we dance?" you hold a hand out.

spencer gladly takes your hand, gladly taking charge. you've never danced before, and it's evident that spencer hasn't either, but strangely, you feel like the ceramic couples spinning together inside a music box.

he closes his eyes, following the rhythm, visualizing the images from the textbook.

what a mind, you think. it would be nice to live inside his brain: to know every thought before it's fully processed, to see what images flash through his mind, to watch the connections between lines from books and quotes an unsub dropped.

on the other hand, you don't know what you're doing. spencer's eyes flutter open and closed every once in a while and he oh-so-softly laughs whenever he commits a mistake. you consider kissing him, but you don't want to interrupt this brilliant mind at work.

once he's comfortable enough with the pace, he leans his forehead on your shoulder, transitioning into slow dancing. you wrap your arms around his waist, and you just melt together.

rocking you back and forth just in time with the rhythm, he whispers in your ear, "you know, waltzing was considered... scandalous back in the day. couples danced in what they called 'closed position,' they were practically, uh, pelvis to pelvis."

you chuckle, giving him a nod. he feels you nod and takes it as a sign he's good to continue.

"yeah, up until the waltzes of strauss, it was deemed inappropriate. i get that, 'the blue danube' is such a beautiful song, it's hard to pass up the opportunity to... y'know..."

reid rambles on, whispering to you all throughout, as if he were professing his love for you. and in his own little way, you knew he was.

he takes a few (many) awkwardly timed steps, and even you can admit your bodies don't flow together seamlessly. but really, it isn't half-bad.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #trans spencer reid #criminal minds #dancing #x reader #gn reader

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invidiia · 1 year

Note

Could I request yan dazai or ranpo (which ever you'd prefer) with someone really forgetful, like someone who can forget events or whatever's currently happening out of nowhere and is just confused. Thank you. 💕💖

꒰ YAN!Dazai and Ranpo (separately) obsessing over a forgetful reader ꒱

notes ; yesyeyesyeysyyeyyeysy!!!!!! i've been kinda obsessing over ranpo and dazai for the past few days, i love them!!! i'm pretty forgetful with my condition so writing this feels a little self indulgent , but i'm happy to write it!! oh, and when you get called dumb, i'm not trying to say forgetful people are dumb, nonono, the characters are just mean LOL

warnings ; manipulation, gaslighting, TOXICITY, kidnapping scenarios at the end of each character's part, unhealthy relationships, implied stalking in dazai's part

RANPO is the type to make you feel like a big idiot. While he does care about how you feel, he just needs to push you over the edge and into his arms..

⋆ Ranpo's the type to laugh at you and call you an idiot for forgetting your super important meetings. He purposely makes you cry, and when he sees the tears staring to drip down, a false face of sympathy moves closer to you pulling you onto his shoulder, hugging you tightly until your tears are no longer dampening his cape.

⋆ Ranpo loves you, and that's why he does what he does. Not that he doesn't take pleasure in making you cry and feel dumb, but he can't have you all depressed every day, can he?

⋆ After insulting you and telling you that you're an idiot, Ranpo pretty much gives you extra love for the rest of the day. He stays by your side, petting your hair. He doesn't take back the mocking, and instead, he tells you that it's okay, and it was cute that you pretty much need him to remember everything for you. He just wants you to need him. It makes falling for him a little easier, right?

⋆ Now.. being kidnapped in your situation? Ranpo doesn't really think you're capable of that. Not to insult you, but he doesn't worry too much about you escaping. He does keep a close eye on you, though.

DAZAI is the type of guy to mess with you about it. He has no problem with your forgetfulness, but uses it against you. the worst thing is? you'll probably never know he did..

⋆ Dazai was more than okay with you being forgetful! When he noticed it, he offered to remind you about anything you needed to remember. How nice, right?

⋆ He even got you a gift, a tiny whiteboard and a dry erase marker!! A cutely styled to-do list, perfect to help you remember everything you needed to remember, like important meetings, or a case you were put on.

⋆ He probably messes with the white board, erasing everything you needed to do, and watching you forget to go do the thing you were supposed to do. Laughing to himself while you got lightly scolded for forgetting. And you never even knew that he touched the board to begin with; you just assumed you forgot!

⋆ Why does he do this? For his own enjoyment. That, and making you believe you're too forgetful for the dangerous things you're supposed to do in the agency. He may just drive you to quit your job. Strangely, even when you aren't at the agency, Dazai always seems to appear next to you to remind you about the wallet you forgot at the store, your phone you dropped in the park without noticing, or with the book you were supposed to return to the library that you accidently left somewhere.

⋆ I think Dazai is really similar to Ranpo in the situation where you're kidnapped. He doesn't really have any concerns about you escaping from him. Every time you say it'll happen, he just nods and laughs, humoring you for your claims. He just can't take you seriously - do you ACTUALLY think you can get away from him of all people?

#MAAANNNNN IM ABOUT TO PASS OUT IM SORRY THIS IS SOSOSOSO BAD #klya..requests #yandere dazai osamu #yandere dazai #yandere bsd x reader #yandere dazai x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere ranpo x reader #yandere ranpo edogawa #yandere ranpo

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wordsarelife · 5 months

Text

DAY 12: SNOWMAN

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

summary: a situation in which you are trapped, causes george and you to confess

warnings: none

you were sitting down in the kitchen, sipping your tea. lucy and lockwood were out, trying to get information about the new case, while george was in the archives and you were already trying to note down anything you had found in the books of lockwoods own library.

“stupid bobby” the front door shut loudly “stupid fittes team”

“woah” you said, standing from your seat and holding up your hands at george, trying to calm him down a bit. "what happened?"

"nothing" he sat down in his usual seat, defeated.

"that can't be true" you smiled, shaking your head

"fine" he said, standing up and filling the kettle with water "bobby said a few things about you"

"he did?" you wondered, as your eyes followed him around the kitchen.

"yeah" he put the kettle on the stove "said you two were pretty close and that he would ask you on a date these days"

"huh" you nodded "i suppose we talk now and then, but close..?" you left the rest of the sentence unfinished, trying to think about a situation which would assume that bobby and you had indeed something going on.

"are you going to say yes?" george had reached for your mug to fill it up with the fresh tea.

"thank you" you smiled as he put it down in front of you "to what?"

"to the date" george sat down across from you.

"hm.. no" you shook your head "i don't like bobby like that"

"kipps said something else"

"kipps?" you repeated baffled "how is everyone suddenly involved in this?"

george just shrugged.

you sighed. "what did kipps say?"

"he said that you were always looking at bobby as if you were in love with him"

your eyes widened and you leaned forward "i'm looking at bobby as if i was in love with him?" you repeated.

george thought you had asked him and shook his head "not that i noticed, and that's exactly what i said. i told them to stop talking rubbish and focus on their own personal affairs"

"thank you" you nodded, before you suddenly remembered, why anyone would think that "oh"

"what is it?" george asked confused.

"i think i now why they thought this"

"you do?" george scrunched his eyesbrows together and seemed less relaxed than before.

"yeah, i do quite often look at bobby" you were smiling now, amused "but not because i'm in love with him"

"no?"

"no" you shook your head, laughing "i think he does look awfully lot like that boy who plays spider-man"

"huh" george leaned back in his seat, thinking about what you had just said, then he began to smile as well "you're right" his hand rushed forward to high-five you, but his elbow accidently hit his mug, which caused the tea to spill all over the table and your jeans

"oh shit" george had quickly stumbled onto his feet, turning around to the counter, to grab some paper towels, but there weren't any left.

"seems like lockwood forgot to fill them again" you sighed, standing up "i'll grab some"

you walked down to the basement, george hot on your heels. "you shouldn't have to get them" he said guilty "it was my fault, you should've stayed upstairs"

"don't worry" you smiled, handing him the padlock of the high security room, where you now also stored things for the kitchen occassionally.

"no, i'm sorry. those are your favorite jeans, and i ruined them" while you were searching through the stuff from your last shopping trip, george put the padlock into the door, so he could help you.

"they should be in the yellow bag" he said from next to you

"yes!" you smiled as you took them out "lockwood really didn't put away anything from when he went shopping"

"typical" george shook his head.

you walked back to the door, but stopped in your tracks when you noticed it was locked.

"what is it?" george asked from behind you, unsure why you stopped before leaving the room-

"the door is locked" you replied, without turning around, while you inspected it closer "i think the padlock must've accidently closed"

"shit" george said for the second time in twenty minutes "now we have to wait for lockwood and lucy to pass the key through"

"don't you have one?"

george shook his head "lockwood took it to bring the groceries down here"

"amazing" you smiled sarcastically, before you grabbed an old blanket and put it on the ground for george and you to sit on. you both leaned against the wall enjoying the comfortable silence.

"when do you think--"

"i have to tell you--"

you both started to speak at the same time. "sorry" both of you muttered apologetically.

"what did you want to say?" george asked, but you shook your head.

"you go first" you smiled "what you had to say sounded much more interesting"

"hmm" george hummed, not quiet sure if he still wanted to say what he did a second before. he then decided to be brave "i wanted to tell you for a long time now, but i like you, like like you. more than a friend" he winced, quickly closing his eyes, so he didn't have to look at how you reacted to his statement.

"george" you said and he opened his eyes. the smile on your face almost made him want to close them again. now came probably the time you would love at him and he could even escape your mockery. "are you kidding?" you asked instead of laughing and he looked up in surprise "are you really scared of how i would react? i thought i made it pretty clear that i like you more than a friend too"

"you do?"

"of course, silly" you laughed and he breathed a sigh of relief

"thank god" he smiled "that could've gone so south, considering we live in the same house and are currently locked in a room together"

"true" you pecked his lips like it was the most natural thing to do and his eyes widened. then you got up from the ground.

"what are you doing?" he was close behind you

"don't you hear that?" you pointed to the ceiling and really, george could faintly make out lockwoods talking.

"they're back" he said and you nodded

"how about you accompany me to my room and we continue our conversation as soon as lockwoods hears our calling"

"i'd love to" george said smiling and you both starting banging on the door.

taglist: @twistedhistory @bakingintheshire @mqstermindswift @taygrls @athenalikethegoddess @helpimhopelesslyinlove

#george karim x reader #george karim #ali hadji heshmati #lockwoodandco #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #george x reader #ruby stokes #ghost hunting #cameron chapman #lucy carlyle #netflix

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heerocks · 5 months

Text

CURIOUS CAT — the connection

SYNOPSIS! Curious Cat is an app that peaked three years ago where people use it to flirt with their crush anonymously and then suddenly forgot about it.

or wherein, Y/N was devastated when her crush, Lee Heeseung indirectly rejecting her in high school. Three years later, both of them have this unknown beef between them that even their friends don't know the real reason behind. One day, Y/N suddenly remembered and opened her C.C. account, and saw that someone by the name 'Ethan' confessed to her three years ago.

With an envelope of personal paper works safely tucked in between his body and arms, heeseung made his way inside the library. The place witnesses different days into his life, and realizes he has grown fond with that said place especially, it was a non speaking witness to the moments he shared with you that he enjoyed through this day.

Heeseung was met with a familiar scent of books — new or old, a sign of comfort. He turned his head around, scanning the whole place to find you.

Instead of your usual spot near the entrance, heeseung found you on the other side of the room near the wide windows overseeing the greeneries of the university. There's a book in front of you, together with your laptop and several binders as your right hand plays with a pen. You were working so hard, focus on wherever your attention binds, whilst the soft beam of sun shines through the windows and to your skin that makes it glow. Just like an ethereal. How can someone be so beautiful doing something that is so normal? Heeseung thought.

He was in trances that he didn't even realize how you turned your head in his direction to finally grace him with attention. This time it was you who found him. Heeseung observed the next events, it didn't became unnoticed how the world turn into slow-mo when your nonchalant mask changed into a smile, eyes writing pleasure as you focused it onto him.

You smiled, softly whisking your hand to signal for him to come. And just like a moth attracted to a fire, he did so without his eyes wavering away from the beauty you hold.

"We just need to check the outcome before passing it right?" You greeted, not bothering to say an actual greeting deeming that after everything happened — you and heeseung are close enough to do that. You unconciously hummed eyes now focus on the laptop you had in front of you.

Heeseung softly agrees, gently picking up the chair as to not disturb you or the other students trying to study in peace. He then put his bag and the files on top of the table before taking his seat.

"I double checked the files before sending it to your email, you can add things on some parts if you want" He whispered, taking the concept that students should not create any noise as an advantage to lean closer causing his cologne to drown you — in a good way.

Your eyes flickered to him but to his dismay it didn't last long. There's a bitterness arose in his heart, why can't you look at him like what you did earlier? But heeseung misread it.

He didn't know how he affect you in every way possible. The memories that occur in the little grocery store two days ago still fresh on your mind. Replaying every chances it gets — more often now that heeseung, the sole reason why your heart react in an unfamiliar way is just right in front of you.

"Okay, I'll work on it later then..."

"I actually can't stay that long, y/n" He mumbled, trying to squeeze a reaction from you.

"Oh, do you have other things to do?" He again nodded silently observing every move. "That's fine, I still need to stay though. Have an exam coming up."

He smiled before grabbing his bag, sliding it in front of him. "Here," Heeseung said finally getting your attention as put the snacks and your favorite strawberry juice in front of you. "Make sure to take breaks in between."

You squint your eyes at him, "You're suspiciously sweet today. Something's not right..."

Heeseung put his bag to his shoulder before standing up, but clumsy lee heeseung forgot to zip his bag causing some of his things to fall all over the place.

Shit, he mumbled.

The man immediately bend down to pick up his things, his heart almost jumped when he sees you doing the same.

You leaned back to your chair, heeseung following suit as he stood up. He unconsciously swallows as his eyes darts back to you, who silently handing the fallen object back to him. Relief washes over his orbs when it's just a small notebook in your hands. Heeseung smiled, taking the notebook before softly patting your head, "What do you mean? I'm always sweet, maybe you just didn't realize it." He shrugged before stepping away but decided to stop and turn around again, "Oh, and make sure to chat riki. He's been sulking these past few days because he didn't get your number last time and said that he wanted to hang out with his mom again"

"What? But, that was only one time."

"Riki would be hurt if he heard that. Basically, for him... I'm his dad, you're his mom, and he's our adopted child," He said in 'as a matter of fact' tone. "See you later, sweetheart. I'll go to work, now!"

The man can see your cheeks burning and how you decided to fight it by jokingly hitting him which he just laughed at. He waved goodbye before finally walking away outside the library.

Heeseung uncontrollably smiled all the way outside the building, descending through the stairs and onto the street. He just can't help it whenever your face flashes through his mind, you were basically his happy pill everyday. That's a known fact, at least to him.

"You seemed happy these days aren't you, lee?" Heeseung stopped in his tracks, soft gaze shifting into scowl before lifting his head to look at the person.

"...that's none of your business, jeongin"

The man smiled, albeit full of vile. "Is it because of y/n?" He asked pretending not to hear the warning in heeseung's voice. "Well, to be honest, I can easily figure it out."

"Don't even think about going near her agai—"

"Do you really think I forgot what you did to me last time?"

Heeseung scoff, sending sharp beams on its way. "It was just a punch. Why are you throwing a tantrums for something so trivial?"

The blonde haired man walked towards heeseung equating his position.

Jeongin pat his shoulder, "I'm not the only one who has secrets keeping from her. Remember that, cousin."

He was about to walk away but Heeseung thought otherwise. "Just like what I said..." He started, voice louder than before causing jeongin to stop. "That's none of your business, Jeongin." Heeseung turned around walking closer to the other man who turned around to face him. "I don't know why you still concern yourself with y/n. What happened between you two was created because of your lies that also ended years ago. So, just... fucking drop it."

Heeseung keep his sharp stares on jeongin before finally, turning around. The other man, jeongin didn't retort back. His eyes keeping on heeseung's back that was slowly fading into the distance.

Chapter 50 — the connection

< prev | m.list | next >

GENRE! smau + written, on crack, slow burn, mutual pinning or past pinning, university au, kinda enemies to lovers troupe, heeseung is a simp, reader is kind of dumb, friends bullying friends

𖥻𖥻 taglist! : @ckline35 @meinapricity @gugudone @xoxodinaryheroes @lov3niki @ahnneyong @raikea10 @bigtoewinwin @tlnyjoong @sungookie @uwudaizy @jeongintwt @paragonofroyalty @captivq @lavisha7 @prdxinvade @lockburn-castle @chaemmie @xtra-cheese @mimikittysblog @zhaixiaowen @pb-n-juju @luvkait @myjaeyunn @redm4ri @oceanyocean @diestheticu @liliansun @yenqa @xiaoderrrr @flower-lise @mymeloem19 @jungwon-kitten @hoonieluv @vantxx95 @asherbl @alexayoonlee @spilled-coffee-cup @mdavt @kyexvly @would-bee @jhopesucker @tiramis-hoon @noascats @beomibeom @iea-tsand @ronnierites @flwrshee

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated ❤️

#📎.curiouscat!#enhypen #lee heeseung #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #enhypen social media au #heeseung x reader #park jungwon #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park seonghwa #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #enhypen au #enhypen ff

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elsfairy · 1 year

Text

───── COME HOME, PLEASE.

you don't remember how it happened. that was the problem, you don't remember how or when it happened. all you remembered was the arguments, the screaming. the smallest problem became such a big thing, a bigger thing than it should have been. you can't remember if it was a mutual thing, or one-sided. you watched her get further and further away by the second. your body wouldn't move, wouldn't move to reach out for her. all you knew was that it was over.

now it's just two souls, missing each other. no matter how hard you tried, you'd always miss her. stalkerish? maybe? crazy? definitely. were you over her? no. was she over you? who knows but, it hit her where it hurts, she didn't have you. she didn't have you in the night, to hold and kiss. she didn't have you in the day, laughing and smiling with. she didn't have you anywhere between morning and night. were you crazy that you couldn't stop thinking about the way she smiled at you? no. did you feel like an absolute asshole that you didn't want to see her look at someone else the way she looked at you? yes.

everything reminded you of her, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. the random book you saw in the store window? reminded you that she had read it, multiple times. the random hoodie you saw some dude wearing? reminded you of all the times you stole hers. the slight smell of cigarettes? reminds you of when you would come home, finding her perched on the armchair, smoking away to her hearts content. even the fuckin radio reminded you of her.

“you don't like tacos, you despise them”

to her, you were like a love-sick puppy looking for its owner, but you already knew that. you knew you were like that whenever she was around you. did she know you are here because you are aware coming to the park is her favorite pastime? did she know you missed her? Did she know you missed her as much as she did? a frown was forming on your lips, the coldness of her hands brushing your own as she takes the food from your hands. “you despise them if I'm not the one who makes them”

“Vika...”

“Do you think this is easy for me?” She scoffs, a dry chuckle filling the awkward silence. “waiting here every night, waiting for you? looking like a complete idiot when you don't show up? sitting here night after night, hoping you haven't given up on me? i can handle many things, but i can't fucking handle you giving up on me or moving on”

“Giving up on you isn't an option. It's never been an option”

“Then why don't you ever show up?”

“Scared you were the one who moved on.. who didn't need me.. who doesn't love me..”

You are her world. Everything she did, was to protect you, keep you safe. she kept you safe from your head half the time, from yourself. To her, you are perfect. Even if you hate yourself sometimes, she reminds you that you are beautiful, that you were worth fighting for. She just wanted to make you happy. “I love you more than i loved you yesterday. I fell in love with you the minute you spilt coffee all over that stupid shirt. I love you even when we have disagreements. I never once stopped loving you. And I will always fucking need you. you're right here, and i still fucking need you. so please, stop fucking crying and look at me”

sight for sore eyes. even with tears running down your pretty face, you still looked effortlessly beautiful to her. Her Sweetheart. her warmth in the winter weather. her mood lifter when she wasn't feeling okay. You were the sugar to her coffee and that made you so much more sweeter to her. and she hated when you cried because you shouldn't, her girl shouldn't be crying.

you felt at home, her rough yet careful hands made refuge and cupped your face. her grey eyes checking over you, making sure you were healthy and not letting yourself go. the mix between her usual cigarettes and whiskey hit you in the face, and it was like she was breathing you in. not having you so close for so long drove her insane. now having you inches from her face, put her at ease because you were okay. you're here, and you're okay. “I'm not leaving” She whispered, nudging her nose against yours, fingers trailing your cheek. “I'm not leaving without you, not this time”

“I'm here Vika”

“I need you. I-I can't do this without you”

“I'm right here, Darling”

#this is me meeting your demands :)#sevika #arcane sevika #sevika imagine #sevika x you #sevika x reader #modern!sevika #sevika drabble

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kerubimcrepin · 12 days

Text

Live-Read: The Remington Comic [PART 2]

TOME 11

We go, we steal, we leave… I don't want any trouble, Remington, got it? Wohaa, as if… I'm telling you, we steal Beating Heart and that's it.

The way Luis is drawn in this comic is so cute, sorry...

Very intrigued by the books standing on top of a flowerpot standing on top of a stool, the random kettle on the floor, a blanket half-covering an unidentified fucking object, more books, and what seems to be a bell, or a bottle, standing on the floor.

Kerubim and Atcham seem to have been away for A While. And Joris doesn't like to clean.

Make less noise when you walk. If we wake the guy up, meow to make him think a cat got into the home. Uh uh.

This idea is so stupid for so many reasons, both ones Remington and Grany should know, and ones known only to us... It's kind of admirable.

Also I still can't get over how fucking messy Joris is. Either it's his depression, his ADHD, or Kerubim's Upbringing that made him that way. Man...

Anyway,

Do you remember where it was stored? Don't worry. Here it is!

THE RANDOM ELEPHANT FIGURES?? I bet they're Keke's... Also, once again, many, many books left everywhere. He's insane.

Come here, you. What was that? No idea… You must have moved something that fell.

While I wish it was Luis, it's actually an unrelated monster under Bonta that will be a big problem in the next issue of the comic.

Come on… let's go! Yes… that was indeed the talking bow meow… who was transformed by a certain Ush.

The way he's talking about them here is so science-y. As if whether they would come or not was like an experiment to him. It's so funny.

Also, Pupuce!!!!! My beloved Pupuce. <3

My instincts tell me to go hang out in the slums for a while. If only he could stay there...

LMAOOO.

Once again, I am grateful that Ush's weird and creepy relationship with cats (albeit... sentient cats, at least) was retconned into a more positive one in season 4 of Wakfu. I still think it's fucking weird, but it certainly makes him funnier as a character.

Ush hates Bump, and it's really like... "my noble sentient catfucking (while i myself shapeshift into a cat) vs. your creepy and barbarous panty collecting."

Hello, you may call me Joris, I would like to meet the noble Ush in order to ask him a few questions about a rogue and a bow meow that... Master does not accept visitors. ??

THIS IS SO FUNNY. THE WAY HE INTRODUCED HIMSELF?? The way this guy closed the door. God...

Also, his cunty little hand on chest thing.... I CAN'T.

Mhh, very well… Let's see. Mhm... If anyone knows where the beating heart is, then that person is here. YYAAAAHH!

LITTLE GUY!!!!!!!!!!?? YOU SWAG TOO HARD. I CAN'T DO THIS AYMORE. His pure and beautiful whimsy... He's so happy to be running... Like a gazelle.

YAAH AH AH!! Anyone? And who're you? We're prisoners… Get us out of here, I beg you. D'you know a rogue and his bow meow brother?

Y'know, this page does haunt me a little. Because he's so, so informal here — and kind of insane too. HE BRINGS OVER A STOOL TO TALK TO TWO PEOPLE ACTIVELY BLEEDING OUT, JUST TO TALK TO THEM WHILE MAKING EYE CONTACT. After that, no vous/vous for them, and when they ask for help, he's like "yeah no, first tell me — do you know that guy who wronged me?"

I'm obsessed with him.

Do I know them? Of course, I know them. You could even say I'm here because of them. They talked about Ush, that's why I came. You get us out of here, and we'll help you find them. Oki-doki... cross my heart! But you'll have to find the key to open it. A key? To close things it might be necessary, yes, but not to open. You're small but mighty, I say!

While I think Joris is a good person and would have helped them even if they knew nothing, I do think that asking about Remington before he freed them was a way of subtly suggesting they help him in return.

Love the way he says "oki-doki"... this 600yo man and his multitudes...

Also, Joris can bend metal. Now imagine him chained up and just... casually breaking the chains, once he's done pretending to be trapped. No wonder Ush needed dragon slobber to restrain him.

He's a bit shaken up, but he should be fine… Stop that… I'm going to puke.

Beautiful.

This reaction Ush has to this huge-ass thing goes out to the Ush fans among my readers.

#remicomic #ro liveblogs dofus #krosmoz #dofus #wakfu #joris jurgen

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