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elecman108 · 1 year

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This has been in the works for several months only due to work, and it’s at a state I now want to share; My D&D PC Character References (all now the CORRECT heights, thank you past me for not doing that) now redone!

I lost the original file on my old drive, so I decided to remake them. Aside from Irina (in need of being redrawn anyway), Tempest (in need of some updates to his outfit), and Selgy (I could not find a version of her with most of her visible to reference from), here’s the full and current list! I will be adding in exactly one more - Lady Joy, a character I have decided to pull out of Blaze/Carrion’s backstory - and then I get to design more from scratch for fun!

Under the cut will be an alternate version of the image and updates to each of these morons from left to right based vaguely on where their heads are.

Oooooh you clicked on the read more, you’re invested in this long-ass post now.

Note: I did end up deciding to drop Zekiel, Azure, and Eddyn for different reasons: Zekiel was an uninteresting character build so I’m going to drop him to OC status and possibly make a new Aasimar in future, Azure made for a better NPC than PC, and Eddyn did NOT work in D&D and worked better in-line with my standard OCs. Either way, they’re still about, just not in the D&D zone.

Now, for the less important bit - the alternate image and the updates!

Welcome to hell, smartass! Anyhow...

-AXEL MEVIAS - Not visible here, but has +3 different outfits for 5 total; Standard, Winter, Fancy, Underwater, and Underwater2. The latter three are based on his Miitopia outfit (complete with cat ears/tail), and the two underwater ones are based off the Mermaid!Axel design I made after my DM allowed me to have him transform into a mermaid when getting his improved swim speed.

-ZARRIS “ASH” ATTREYU - A new guy!! He’s based on a concept I dropped from Blaze’s original design - a Colourblind Tiefling with a frankly OUTRAGEOUS outfit whose magic is only in greyscale. He has two forms; Colourful and Greyscale. Self-explanatory what they are.

-SERAPHUS - Incomplete as he is, the only changes to D&D!Seven is I made his horns bigger and changed the tip of his tail from a triangle to a diamond.

-TORI KING - The only change to D&D!Vic is I made her bandages more dense. That’s barely even an update in all honesty...

-TAIO ETRAL - Slightly updated D&D!Theo’s hair and shifted his eyes to be looking to the right instead of straight ahead. I’ll decide if his tattoos will change when I do his colours.

-CECILLIA - She has a LOT to mention... Updated her horns again, fixed some issues with her shirt/jacket, modified her jacket at the back, added a tail as she IS a tiefling, and fixed her hair length. I’ll be adjusting some of her colours too, so stay tuned!

-VERDA DEI’ILYA - Fixed a wonky face on her default look, fixed her rabbit tail/ears to just look better, and added bows to her shoes. She also now has a second form (not visible here) of an actual Harengon form as opposed to just a bunnygirl which has plenty of new stuff to look at, so stay tuned.

-MONA QUIXOT - Only change to D&D!Mona is I removed several eyes of the Somnovum because having seven of nine of them seemed a bit much. Now she has three.

-KRESS DARKLAW - Adjusted the colour of his pants (nice), and added in a new form of his halfling disguise Linos where he has wings.

-GOLDEN SHADOWS - Added an “S” after his name because it sounds better, and fixed the lines on his rapier to be thicker because they were bothering me.

-KAU - Eyes adjusted to fit the rest of the D&D refs. That’s... that’s it!

-BLAZE/CARRION “IFRIT” GOLDSHARD - Two new looks added, which are two Clown/Circus outfits for him beyond his normal look. All forms of his have the Ringleader’s Mask at his hip.

-RANRAN - No changes. She’s perfect already. <3

-LAYLA JAEST - D&D!Lailah now has a slightly different thingy-doodad on the sleeve of her jacket by her shoulder that looks a little nicer and is easier to draw.

-KARA SUNDANCE - Adjusted the look of her sword’s hilt so it made more sense, and removed the random orange underskirt to her tunic. I have no idea why it was there.

-MIRI EVENWOOD - Shortened her hair to be more reasonable, and adjusted the look of her bow so it made more sense.

-RASHA - Adjusted the colours of his tunic-thing to look slightly better. He now is looking to the right.

-URSINIA - Added ‘veins’ to her wings to make them look more like flower petals, added a charm to her belt-sash, gave her sandals less detail, and gave her shorts so she’s slightly more modest. Her dress is, however, further off her shoulders, so... Hey, you add shorts, you gain more boob I guess.

-MELIA OF THE AUTUMNAL FOREST - Mouthful of a name remains, no I will not change it. Adjusted the look of her freckles and changes some colours around so she didn’t have three shades of brown on her attire... And added a cocky grin.

-ELLANA JAEST - D&D!Ender’s scar that was taking up real estate on her face is now completely covered so she looks 10x better. Also I fluffed up her hair and moved her tail in behind her person.

-ORINA - Lost her last name in the divorce from my old drive, but modified her tattoos to look better. They are now a dark grey instead of black to better view the lines of her character due to the modified tatts.

-ILDAN KILARN - Separated the collar of his cloak from the rest of the cloak so it looks better, and fixed the bottom part of his armour (the skirt bit?) to look much better. Also gave him a slight haircut.

-REVEREND EZRA MASON - Gave the Reverend back his cross so he can ward away the demons, and he now has his alternate Werewolf form as a reference (not visible here, obviously). His pants are also white now because the vague colours of Kress and Ezra were too close and giving him white pants felt like a good idea at the time.

-ALLISTER DAL’THALOR - D&D!Alpha now has a better looking battleaxe and his last name changed from “Ethereal” to “Dal’Thalor” to better match him. Actually, all the D&D!OCs other than Mona have changed names to better match the D&D world, but Alpha’s the only one where the last name completely changed.

-OLIVER ENOIR - D&D!Alren has a better looking cloak and that is IT.

-LIXORI - Arm and tail bands added, as well as some additional details to her dress to make it look better. Adjusted the Plum-to-Red hair progression to be more plum than red because it looked better.

-INSPECTOR - Added an actual mouth and gave additional beef to his lower jaw, belt buckle now a ram skull, and the bottom of his jacket is now torn. Some slight adjustments to the feet, hands, and neck to look a little better. Eyebrows now ANGY.

Aaaaand that’s it! I can give some previews for the three I’ll be redoing and one I’ll be adding though...

-LUN TEMPEST NOBLESONG - Modified pose to fit better with his personality, adjusted weapon size to be larger, adjusted coat to be the correct length.

-SELGY STONEPELT - Redone pose completely to remove limp wrist wave, added detail to the belt/bracelets, added flowers to her tail to match her hair.

-IRINA - Lost her last name in the divorce from my old drive and in the process of getting a new one, redid pose to match the style of the rest of the refs. Added some detail to her corset and skirt, removed cloak, shoes now visible.

-LADY JOY - New addition now with two forms; Original and Dark Carnival. Original has additional alts of Masked and Full Uniform, as well as an added alternate of being in a clown-like outfit.

Enjoy trying to work out those details, future-me!

#the disappointment speaks #drawings by me #OCs #D&D #big project AHOY!!#local moron creates big project and forgets to make a backup and has to make everything again #thats me with LITERALLY EVERYTHING from my old drive #like mannnnnnn all my old sketches I didnt upload are now bjorked and I no longer have my original stuff in chronological order #so my january stuff is gonna be wack possibly #possibly also my february stuff? march-onwards should be fine tho #Thats a problem for end-of-the-year me making a yearly art thing #I do have a dwarf and aasimar/tiefling idea I want to add into this list but I may also just drop those too #but I AM keeping the dwarf. you can pry the dwarf from my cold dead hands tbh #I need more beefy short people #but let me not get ahead of myself - I have like 7 characters more to finish before I can do those ones #well. its 15. but yknow #I currently have 28 D&D PCs to pick from #and give me a new game and I'll make that number go up by at LEAST two #maybe three. possibly four. but absolutely five.

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megxplryxb · 1 month

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Romance is Dead, Isn't it?

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Notes: Sweet and fluffy, little bit of angst. Based around Valentine’s Day because I’ve had this is in my drafts for a minute.

The smell of cheap, overused aftershave and five dollar bouquets, currently lingered throughout the aisles of Family Video. Loved up couples filling the store, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings and pressing kisses to their lovers blushing cheek as they scanned the shelves of the romance section.

Love heart decorations hung from the ceiling, pink foil curtains draped over the entrance and Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time blared from the speakers while you completed sellotaping the balloons you’d only finished inflating ten minutes ago. You weren't exactly sure why Keith was making Valentine's Day such an extravaganza this year but you were absolutely hating every second of it.

February fourteenth had never been kind to you. Not when you were ten years old and the card you thought had been from your childhood crush was actually written by your Mom. Not when you were fifteen and you went to the movies with Jackson Taylor, who made up a rumour that he had gotten to second base with you and definitely not last year, when Derek Cooper had taken you out for dinner, only to be caught by his girlfriend that he had surprisingly forgotten to mention.

Yeah, Valentine's Day could suck it.

“If one more person asks if we have another copy of Sixteeen Candles, I swear, I won't be held responsible for my actions.” You warn, jumping down from the step ladder with a loud huff.

“Yikes, what’s gotten your panties in a bunch today babe?” Robin questions with a teasing smile on her face as she serves the next customer.

“My panties are not in a bunch thank you very much. I'm just saying, what kind of moron waits until Valentines Day to rent the most sought after romcom?" You ask, taking a gulp of water in an attempt to erase the taste of rubber from your mouth.

Fake laughter echoes from the other side of the store where some girl has been flirting with Steve for the past fifteen minutes. You'd noticed her outside before she walked in, glossing her lips and pushing her boobs up just enough to get the attention she was obviously desperate for. She's annoyingly pretty, with perfect hair and sun kissed skin and when she raises her well manicured hands to rest on his bicep, you can’t help but grit your teeth at them.

"Is he planning to do any work at all today?" You point, rolling your eyes as Robin looks over at her other best friend and then back to you with a frown. She can sense the irritation in your voice and she knows why, even if you would never admit it. The signs have been there for quite some time and she wonders how much longer you can keep up the charade of not having feelings for Steve Harrington.

"Hey Dingus! A little help over here?" Robin demands, directing him to the queue of customers waiting for assistance at the counter. Steve nods his head, apologising to the girl who makes sure to write her number on his arm before waving goodbye.

“Yeah, thanks for calling me over, I've been trying to get away from her for like, the last ten minutes.” Steve breathes a sigh of relief, gesturing for the next customer to approach.

“Yeah, you really looked like you were being held against your will there, Harrington.” You scoff bitterly, stacking up a pile of returned tapes.

“Seriously, did you guys not see me trying to signal for help when she started touching me? I mean come on, desperate much?" He jeers, shaking his head.

"She did seem disgustingly eager." Robin interjects, scrunching her nose.

"Since when has that ever stopped him?" You reply, motioning towards Steve, who seems a little bit offended by your words.

"Jesus, why does it look like Cupid came all over this place?" Eddie chuckles as he enters the store, getting his jacket caught in the foil curtain, almost ripping it off of the door.

“Hey, careful Munson, don’t mess up my masterpiece!” You warn, carrying the tapes into the back as he slowly untangles himself.

"Because dear Edward, it is the day of love and romance!” Robin squeals excitedly, clapping her hands.

“Can you tell she has a date with Vickie tonight?” You tease, her cheeks turning pink at the mention of her new girlfriend.

“Alright, way to go Buckley.” Eddie high-fives the girl who couldn’t contain her happiness.

“We’re just going to the movies but I’m so nervous! Like, what if I make a total doofus of myself around her? She might not be as accepting of my clumsiness as you guys. I could fall up the steps when we’re walking to our seats or choke on the popcorn or…”

“Robin relax, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.” Steve interrupts, hearing the conversation from the till. His eyes meet yours, both of you sharing a disapproving look at your friend’s lack of confidence in herself. It was something you often discussed between yourselves, trying to figure out ways to help her see just how great she really was. Robin had always been good at hyping other people up, telling them how awesome or pretty they were but it was a completely different story when it came to herself.

“Steve’s right, you need to chill out. Vickie’s already heard you doing god awful karaoke, not to mention witnessing you hurl all over the bathroom floor at the Hideout and she’s still drooling over you. The girl is putty in your pretty little hands.” You jokingly reassure with a smile and it seems your light hearted words put her somewhat at ease as she takes a relieved breath.

“Hey, do you guys have a copy of that new movie with Molly Ringwald? Sixteen something?” Eddie shouts from the romance section of the store earning a scowl from you.

“Shit out of luck Munson, we’re totally sold out.” Steve replies, the curly haired metal head letting out a dramatic groan as he walked back to the counter, causing some of the other customers to flinch.

“Didn’t take you for a romcom kinda guy Eds.” You mock as he gives you a toothy grin. “Sweetheart, if it helps me get laid by the end of the night, I’ll watch anything.”

“Ew, gross Eddie, I really don’t need visions of you and Chrissy getting it on.” Robin shivers in disgust.

Although you share the same sentiment as your best friend, you can't help but think how nice it is that Eddie finally found someone that truly loves him for who he is. You couldn't remember ever seeing him so happy and a little part of you was jealous that you didn't have that with someone too.

"Harrington, did you get a tat dude?" Eddie quizzes, pointing to the digits on Steve's arm. You're taken out of your thoughts upon hearing the question directed at your coworker. Steve's eyes fall to you for a brief moment but you busy yourself with some paperwork, trying your best to pretend you're not paying attention to them.

"Oh, um no man, just a customer earlier, gave me her number." Steve brushes off with a shrug.

"Sweet, you gonna call her?" The hellfire leader interrupts and you hate yourself for wanting to know the answer too.

"God no, she was way too forward." Steve says, shaking his head, hoping that would be the end of the conversation as you relax again.

"What's wrong with forward? Come on man, it's Valentine's Day, call her, ask her out." Eddie encourages, wondering why Robin was shooting him a killer look as Steve shifts uncomfortably.

"Actually, I kind of already have a date tonight." He states, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The relief you felt moments ago, quickly vanishing, being replaced with a gut wrenching feeling in the pit of your stomach. Steve had someone and it wasn't you. It would never be you.

“You do? Since when, why wasn’t I informed about this?” Robin quizzes suspiciously.

“I don’t have to tell you everything, Robin.” He huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Do we know her?” Eddie smirks and you wish you were anywhere else right now.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t.” He answers coyly before serving the next customer.

“So what about you sweetheart, who’s the lucky guy that’s taking you out tonight?” The metal head grins, raising his brows suggestively.

You see Steve and Robin turning their heads, attention on you as Eddie waits for your response. For a moment you consider lying, trying to think of a name and a place just to save face on being the only one without a date for tonight and maybe a little part of you wanted to see what Steve’s reaction would be too. But Robin already knew you had no plans, she had probably already told Steve the same.

“There isn’t one.” You answer, looking down at the ground, wanting it to swallow you whole.

“Bullshit, every time I’m in here there’s a guy asking you out.” Eddie spits, frowning at your response.

He’s right, guys do ask you out. It’s not like you were some sort of prude who never had a sex or never went on dates but lately, you just hadn’t been feeling it. Not when your heart belonged to someone who didn’t even know they had it and until you could get over Steve Harrington, it wouldn’t be fair to start something with someone else.

“Yeah, just not the one I actually want.” You reply, refusing to look Steve’s way as you walk to the back.

You figure now is a good time to take you break, needing a moment away from your friends to regain your composure. The restroom door locking behind you as you drop to the floor, tucking your knees into your chest. How had you gotten here? How had you been so stupid to fall for your friend? How had you allowed this to happen?

You secretly wondered who Steve’s date could be, knowing there was a number of viable contenders. Was it the brunette from last week who asked him to explain how The Lost Boys wasn’t a Peter Pan spin off or the blonde that always laughed at his jokes even when they weren’t even funny. Or maybe it was the raven haired girl who openly discussed her recent porno rentals with him every week.

One thing you knew for sure, it certainly wasn’t you.

The sound of footsteps brings you back to your shitty reality and the sudden knock on the bathroom door has you standing on your feet again.

“Hey, it’s just me. Are you ok?” You hear Robin ask from the other side. You straighten yourself up, wiping your clothes down before unlocking the door to face your friend.

“Yeah of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You question, doing your best to give her a reassuring smile but she sees right through you.

“I honestly didn’t know dingus had a date, I would have told you if I did.” She mutters nervously as you shake your head.

“Why? It’s not like I care what he does.” You state as Robin gives you an unconvinced glance.

“Babe, it’s me you’re talking to right now, no one else. You forget I used to be the master at hiding my feelings, so I know all the signs. You’re totally crazy about him aren’t you?” She quizzes, as you shrug your shoulders. There was no point in hiding it from her anymore, she could read you like a book.

“I’ll get over it.”

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” She suggests as you let out a bitter laugh. “Did you not just hear what he said out there? He has a date, Robin.”

“Yeah but maybe if—”

“No. I’m not telling him alright? So please, just drop it.” You beg, letting out a deflated sigh.

Robin decides not to push you any further, realising you didn’t want to talk about it right now but you know this won’t be the end of it and eventually you’d have to answer the many questions you were sure she was going to have, taking a mental note to purchase alcohol before you talked about your feelings for Steve with her. But for now, you were grateful that she was leaving well enough alone so you could get back to work and pretend that everything was fine.

The remaining hours went by painfully slow, the romance section almost bare and you were counting down the minutes before you could go home to your bed and shut out the world while you waited for this shitty day to be over. Once the store got a little quieter, Steve offered to man the counter while you did Robin’s make up in the back, helping her get ready for the long awaited date before her girlfriend picked her up.

By 7:45, you were left with Steve and Keith who had been in his office doing paper work since he ordered you to decorate the store earlier. Steve had noticed you were quieter than usual, trying his best to joke and make light conversation but all he was met with was one worded answers.

“It was really cool of you to do Robin’s make up, y’know?” You hear Steve mumble as you restock the confectionery stand.

“That’s what best friends are for, right?”

“Yeah of course but you saw how nervous she was all day and I think you helping her out by making her look all pretty and stuff, just gave her the confidence boost she needed for tonight. I just thought it was really sweet of you.” He compliments, a warm look on his face that has your frosty demeanour melting.

“Alright, I’m done for the day. You two ok to lock up?” Keith asks, dousing himself in cheap cologne as Steve shoots his boss a glare knowing it was his night to close.

“No, not really. I have a date.” Steve argues as Keith grunts unsympatheticly. “You’re not the only one lover boy.”

“Online chat rooms don’t count, Keith.” Steve fires back as you try not to laugh at the expression on your boss’s face.

“You want to be out of a job, Harrington?” Keith threatens, looking less than impressed.

“No, but I really need to—”

“That settles it then, you two will lock up. Happy Valentines Day.” He smirks, throwing Steve a set of keys before exiting the store.

“What an asshole!” Steve groans, throwing the keys on the counter, putting an irritated hand through his signature hair while his plans hang in the balance.

“Now I get why he wanted me to decorate so badly.” You mutter, thinking back to how you spent the first couple of hours of your shift, blowing up balloons and getting sticky tape stuck in your hair. Keith was loved up like the rest of your friends. Cupid had gotten another one.

“Do you actually believe he has a date?” Steve asks, frustration still apparent in his voice as you nod your head, groaning.

“As much as it pains me to say yes, given that I myself don’t actually have a date, when have you ever seen him put on cologne?” You question as Steve lets out a heavy sigh.

“Good point. I hope she stands the son of a bitch up though.” He grins playfully and you can’t help but smile back at him. He was so breathtakingly beautiful and you kind of hated him for it.

“Hey, look at that, I finally got a smile out of you.” He teases, poking at your cheek as you lightly push his hand away.

“Steve, quit it.” You giggle as he shakes his head.

“Not a chance, you’re just so pretty when you smile.” He admits, cupping your face momentarily, locking his eyes with your own and your breath hitches as his warm hand rests on your face, his thumb carefully caressing your cheek and you hope to god you’re not blushing right now. Your eyes wander to his lips, pink and plump and a little chapped from the cold weather Hawkins was currently experiencing and you couldn’t help but wonder what lucky girl would get to kiss them later on.

For a moment as Steve gazed at you, you considered telling him everything. How you’ve been crazy about him since you worked at Scoops Ahoy together, falling hard for him when you saw how kind he was to the kids he watched over, knowing he wasn’t the same selfish guy you’d known in high school. Steve Harrington was selfless, brave and caring and as you looked into his caramel coloured eyes, all you wanted for him was to be happy because that’s what he deserved more than anything, even if it would never be with you.

“Steve…”

“Yeah?” He whispers, looking at you in a way that made your knees weak.

You knew this was your chance to tell him, the perfect night to admit your feelings but previous Valentine’s Day disasters prevented you from saying what you really wanted to, afraid Steve would have to let you down gently or worse, laugh in your face.

“You should go home and get ready for your date, I’ll lock up here.” You swallow hard as he finally removes his hand from your face, seemingly taking him out of his own thoughts.

“Oh, no I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He replies, shaking his head.

“You didn’t ask me, I offered.” You reassure, feeling guilty for how you had treated him all day.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t. The place is quiet now anyway and there’s only an hour left. Plus I’ve been looking forward to destroying all those damn decorations all day.” You joke, attempting to hide the sadness you were currently feeling from him, terrified that you’d break down in tears if he stuck around much longer.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He grins as you playfully roll your eyes at him. “So I’ve been told.”

“Got any advice for a successful Valentine’s date?” He questions, grabbing his car keys as you let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You’re really not asking the right person. I don’t think I’ve ever had a good Valentine’s experience. Why are you so nervous anyway, you’ve been on hundreds of dates?”

“Yeah I know, but I really like this girl, like a lot. More than I’ve ever liked anybody and I really don’t want to mess this up.” He sighs and you wonder if he can hear your heart smashing into pieces.

“Wow, she must be really special.” You breathe as he nods his head looking like a schoolboy with a crush.

“Yeah, she is.” He admits and it’s like a fresh bullet to your chest.

“Well then I hope she knows how lucky she is. Any girl who can’t see what an amazing guy you are would have to be a complete idiot.” You reply honestly, almost certain you see a hint of pink in his cheeks.

“Thanks, honey.” He whispers, before walking towards the exit, the nickname causing your brain to short circuit. Honey.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, pretty girl.” He grins, walking out the door as you feel a tear slide down your cheek watching his car pull out of the space, taking your broken heart right along with him. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, cursing under your breath, pondering if you were really doomed to face every February fourteenth in utter misery.

The last hour of your shift had gone by quicker than expected, having no customers during the final thirty minutes, giving you plenty of time to dispose of the shitty decorations that had mocked you throughout the day. When you finished vacuuming the floor, you wondered how your friends were fairing on their dates. Had Eddie gotten through a rom com without passing out? Did Robin make it up the steps of the movie theatre without falling? Was Keith really on a date with an actual woman? Had Steve already managed to get his new girl into bed?

That last thought made you want to throw up.

At 8:50 you decided to call it a night, dreaming of your warm bed and the cheese pizza you were going to order the minute you got home, wanting nothing more than to wallow in self pity. The money had been cashed up, the shelves were organised and you figured you had earned the extra ten minutes after everything you had endured today. Once you grabbed your handbag and jacket from your locker, you did a final check of the place before clocking out, switching the open sign to closed before you shut the door behind you, turning the key in the lock and pulling the shutters down, thankful you were off for the next couple of days.

As you tossed the keys into your bag, pulling on your jacket to prepare for the short walk to your apartment, you noticed a familiar maroon BMW parked up and Steve Harrington leaning against the hood, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Steve?”

“Hey you.” He smiles, eyes sparkling in the glow of the moonlight.

“Is everything ok?” You worry, wondering if something had happened to one of the kids or your older friends.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” Steve reassures as you let out a sigh of relief.

“Well for starters, aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” You quiz, confusion apparent in your tone.

“I was just waiting for her to get off work actually, I’m picking her up here.” He smirks confidently, pushing himself off of the hood.

“You’re meeting her in the Family Video parking lot? Isn’t that a bit creepy?” You tease, raising a brow at him, trying not to focus on how good he looks in a grey sweater that you’ve never seen on him before.

“Well yeah, I guess it would be a little creepy if she didn’t work there.” He jokes, hoping he’d given you enough clues to figure out the rest for yourself. When your eyes begin to widen, mouth parting as you try to speak, he knows the penny has finally dropped.

“Steve I—”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, pretty girl.” He grins, repeating the same words he'd said earlier, handing you the prettiest bunch of daisies you’ve ever seen and it’s not until his fingers brush yours that you realise it isn’t a dream. Steve Harrington was here, waiting for you.

“These are for me?” You ask, breath catching in your throat.

“Of course they are, who else would I get them for?” He teases as you try to hold back tears.

"Steve, I…I can’t believe you got me daisies. they’re so beautiful.” You smile, suddenly feeling very dizzy.

“I know I probably should have gotten you roses but I remember last summer when we took the kids to the park and you made Max and El daisy chains. You said they were your favourite.”

“You remember that?” You blush looking up at him as he nods. “I remember everything about you, honey.”

Your stomach is doing somersaults now, palms sweaty and shaking with the way he’s looking at you and it takes everything in you not to kiss him silly.

“Did Robin know about this?” You quiz, wondering if you were going to have to murder your friend tomorrow for letting you go through a shift thinking Steve was going on a date with someone else.

“Are you serious? You know she can’t keep secrets. I couldn’t take the risk that she wouldn’t telll you. Plus, I was afraid she’d never let me live it down if you rejected me.” Steve jokes, flashing his pearly whites at you. How could you ever reject him?

“I don’t understand, if Robin didn’t tell you, how did you know I had feelings for you?”

“Not to sound totally arrogant but I’m not completely stupid. I see how flustered you get around me sometimes and how jealous you get when a customer tries to flirt with me, like today. But mostly I’ve seen the way you look at me and then I knew for sure—cause it’s the same way I look at you.” He whispers, his warm hand cupping your cheek.

“And how exactly do you look at me?” You challenge, swallowing hard as his lips inch closer to yours.

“Like I’m totally crazy about you.”

#steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #king steve #steve harrington imagine #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #djotime #djo #joe keery #gator tillman #kurt kunkle

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thursdaygxrls · 4 months

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Enemies to lovers & enemies with benefit, remus x reader pls? They both are academic rivals and one day things got heated and they have angry sex then after that everytime they would argue in ends up in them having sex? Maybe add in a jealous remus hehe

i absolutely loved this request!! tried my best (i haven't written smut in a while, sorry if it's trash). might need to do a part two to add the jealous remus in :)) also, i'm trying out a new intro set up because i'm tired of the old one

how to hate a boy

pairing remus lupin x reader

warnings mdni!! smut, lotta smut, fingering, p in v (protected), general hatred, really bad editing (i didn't edit tehe)

Remus Lupin was always a crude, scruffy boy. Ever since she’d met him, he’d been nothing but trouble. It started with the pranks. Remus Lupin and his moronic Gryffindor companions had become notorious for their practical jokes within the first few years of Hogwarts. It was nothing necessarily harmful: enchanting quills to scribble on sleeping students' faces or swapping out pumpkin juice for polyjuice potion. They were always annoying, but never intrusive to her specifically. Until the end of fourth year.

She prided herself on being one of the brightest witches of her age, receiving praise from McGonnagle and Slughorn themselves. It was only natural to assume she'd ranked somewhere in the top five in each year's final exams. There was an ease to her step when she walked to the board outside the square where each fourth year's marks had been posted. Though there was a crowd of both horrified and excited children, she pushed through to look at the list. Her eyes moved to the top immediately, gently combing through the list until...

In that moment, she died.

She found her name next to an emboldened number six, and the name above? Lupin, Remus John. Her mouth was dry in an instant, all the moisture having been sucked from her tongue to her eyes. As if the colossal failure along with its physical repercussions wasn't enough, Sirius Black, one of said moronic Gryffindors, had popped up next to her for a look at the board.

"Would you look at that, Moons!" His ecstatic tone sent a wave of bile up her throat, "You're in the top five!"

"Piss off." She heard his gruff voice respond.

"I'm serious! You're up here!"

That was about all she could take. She pushed through the crowd, ignoring the hisses of annoyance and the calls of 'what the hell's her problem?' Hot, salty tears filled her eyes as she stomped from the square. Something like this would never happen again, she would make sure of it.

Thus, the rivalry was born.

Remus never truly knew how he'd suddenly gained an enemy the next year. He didn't know her well - she was just a girl in his year, not one he'd ever talked to or singled out. Yet, there was a newfound aggression she held towards him that unleashed itself within the classroom. If he began to raise his hand to answer a question, hers would shoot up with no hesitation before his fingers were as high as his head. He thought she was just eager and he was just slow until it happened in every class they had together for two weeks.

Then, in the library, she would casually pluck the books he would reach for. It was a nuisance, truly, and more than that, he received an A on a paper he could've received an O on if he'd just had the books he needed. It was then he accepted that this was not a random occurrence, this girl truly had some sort of vendetta against him, and he needed to retaliate. Returning to his dorm after collecting his graded paper, he immediately sought to design a prank to put an end to this one-sided war. However, within minutes of planning it, an idea occurred to him: maybe he'd started it all, or Sirius, or James, or Peter. Perhaps she'd been fodder in one of their pranks, and in turn was the one getting her revenge.

Remus was not an unreasonable man. Unlike Sirius (who would've pulled something far worse than a practical joke on her), he could deal with this situation with something much less drastic: a conversation.

He found her the next day tucked away in the library. She was at a table near the back where there were more cobwebs than books. He approached her with the same caution someone might lend to a venomous snake or feral cat. Slow, steady steps led him to her chair, where he introduced his presence with an awkward cough.

"Hi," he spoke, tone unwavering. She, whose eyes had been gliding along the pages of a book, looked up at him with an uninterested gaze. He stood still for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"I'm sorry, alright?" He huffed, though he wasn't sure what his was sorry for.

"Sorry?" She raised a brow in what seemed to be genuine intrigue.

"Yeah, y'know," he gently scraped the edge of his boot against the table leg, "For whatever I did. Or we did. Whatever bit of fun we had that's got you so miffed with me."

All at once, her quirked brow and sense of interest dissipated, replaced by a hard scowl. Quickly, she began packing away her belongings, not caring to spare him a glance.

"What?" There was a sense of annoyance in her voice, "I was apologizing."

"Mhm," she hummed, zipping her bag. Before she left, she met his eyes with a piercing gaze, "I heard about that A you got, Lupin. Try a little harder next time, will you?" With that, she left the library and a partly-dumbfounded, partly-pissed Remus.

His initial reaction was to fight fire with fire: if she wanted to be a prick, he'd show her how low he could get. He stomped through the castle, steam blowing from his ears. His face was twisted into one of rage when he slammed his dorm door shut, immediately alerting his roommates.

"'Bloody hell's wrong with you?" Sirius immediately perked up from the upside-down position he had on his bed. Remus, more than ready to respond, opened his mouth only to find that no words would come out.

I heard about that A you got, Lupin. Try a little harder next time, will you?

That remark, her book sabotage, the amount of times she'd overshadowed him in class. This hatred towards him was personal, and it had to do something with his marks. He had been doing quite well recently, especially with coming up in the top five of last year's final exams. A wicked smile crossed his lips as he slowly slid his bag from his shoulders.

"Nothin'," Remus shook his head, walking to his desk, "Nothin's wrong at all."

"That was concerning, that face you made – did anyone else see that? James?" Sirius glanced around the room to see James far too invested with his Walkman and Frank and Peter half asleep in their beds.

"Trust me, Pads, I'm perfect," he shot Sirius a grin.

Next week, there a new paper was assigned in Defense Against the Dark Arts, a class he and his new sworn enemy shared. Instead of visiting the library in the afternoon as he always had, he would go during early mornings. Yawning, he fought the urge to resume his slumber on his table as he scribbled down notes upon notes of research. He got quicker, too, learning to raise his hand faster than she could ever dream of. Sure, sometimes he didn't know the answer to the question being asked, but he was quicker than her, and that's all that mattered.

A month later, when the DADA essays were now graded and redistributed to the students, he found a large red O at the top left of his paper. A wild, toothy smile adorned his lips as he looked down at the letter. The class had ended, but most of the students were there, pouring over the grades they'd received. Remus eyed the room for a moment before finding her at a table a few seats behind him. He stood, leaving Sirius, his desk partner, to tap his nails against his paper marked with the words 'See me after class!'

Remus was stealthy, making his way to her with the slow, collected steps he'd used before. Only this time there was no caution: he was decisive, cool. He sneaked a look at her paper, catching a glimpse of a red E. Looking back to her face, he noticed the gentle, pretty smile spread on her lips, but quickly shook his head.

"Nice work," he hummed, asserting himself. She looked to him with that same uninterested gaze he'd seen before. At that, his smirk grew tenfold.

"Maybe try harder next time, though, yeah?" He held up his paper. She couldn't even try to hide the shock, her jaw falling immediately to reflect to O on his paper. Without a word, he turned and slid out of the classroom.

Though it seemed like a done deal, this rivalry carried on for years. It went from a silent challenge to an increasingly public feud, which included spats in the Great Hall and fiercely whispered arguments in the library. It only worsened when they each became Prefects: their new privileges allowed even more room for one-upping. At some point, all of Hogwarts either knew of or had experienced their shared wrath. Opinions on the quarrel varied.

"She's fit," Sirius had said one afternoon in sixth year, "Nice bum. Maybe a good snog would set you both straight."

"Have you ever talked to her?" Lily Evans asked during a study session with Remus, "Try reasoning?"

"Fight the power!" James screamed, half drunk, half high at a party.

By seventh year, it seemed as though there was nothing that could be done. They hated each other, and that was that.

It was late November when Remus had Prefect rounds. Frost covered the edges of the windows he passed, and he wondered if it was he or the snow outside that had caused it. It was pure chance that drove him towards the library. He just wanted to stop there for a moment of silence before returning to his dorm. Of course, he had his silence in the empty hallways, but he chose to ignore that in favor of inhaling the scent of old books.

He entered the library, walking through a few shelves and mindlessly trailing his thumb along book spines. It was dark, but his wand provided a good bit of light to see ahead of him. He turned to leave when a noise pricked his ears: a loud thud in the back of the library.

Remus was on high alert as he rushed back to where the sound had come from. It was likely nothing more than a few first years sneaking out or a couple trying to get in a late night snog, but he still held his wand at the ready. What he did not expect to see upon turning the corner was his mortal enemy crouched over fallen books.

"What the hell are y'doing?" He spoke, his voice not nearly as quiet as he'd hoped. Her head shot up immediately before bowing with a hiss due to the light of his wand.

"Get that bloody light out of my face, you ass," she huffed, setting the books back down on the table. It was as though she was fully set up for a study session: books, parchment, quills, and the warm glow of a candle. He studied the scene with furrowed brows.

"You shouldn't be in the library, it's past curfew," he said in a sharp tone. Another look at the girl led him to (hesitantly) soften up his gaze. Under the white light of his wand, he could clearly see the marks of exhaustion left on her face, the very ones he saw in himself at the mirror. He settled himself in the space between her table and an empty one behind him.

"Past hours? Really now?" She shot back in a sarcastic tone. Remus huffed.

"You should be sleeping," he grumbled out.

"And you should be up?" She rolled her eyes, "Go on, leave me alone. I have work to do."

"What kind of git stays up late to work?" He said, ignoring that fact that he was absolutely that kind of git, "Get to bed."

The words didn't seem to pierce her, as she turned back to her book, unaffected. He stared down at her seated form, unsure of what to do. A cough (disguised as a groan) left him, and he decided to push a bit more. He leaned towards the table to pick up a book.

"What are you even–”

"Stop," she snapped. In a flash she stood and swiped the book from his hands. They were both on their feet now, their feet within centimeters of each other.

"You should sleep," he repeated with a clenched jaw.

"And what do you care?" She griped.

"You're a student out past hours, and I'm a Prefect," he said in a tight voice.

"Prefect? I'm a Prefect, you dunce," she scoffed, waving her hand in an irritated manner, "Just shut it and-"

"Don't tell me to shut it." The interruption was accompanied by a grip on her wrist. The sudden physical contact was a surprise to both of them. Even more surprising was the fact that she hadn't yet snagged her hand back.

"There would be no need to tell you to shut it if you didn't keep your ugly mouth closed," she hissed, her tone far louder than what was considered appropriate for a library. The silence was thick between them. His fingers burned her skin from the heat he radiated.

Remus didn't know what it was that made him do it. Sleep deprivation, frustration, rage, bashful horniness from the way he was yelled at. Whatever it may be, he unclasped her wrist only to capture her jaw and smash his lips to hers in an angry kiss. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't gentle, and he nearly pulled away when he realized what he'd done only to feel her hands grip his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

It was unabashedly ugly the way they kissed. Open mouths and gnashing teeth, more wrath and bite than the result of a tender love love confession. Remus had entirely forgotten there was a table behind him until her hands met his chest and pushed him back, knocking him onto the solid wood surface.

He was taller, but in this moment, she was above him, biting his lower lip and pulling his hair with total disregard to how it may hurt him. This action ripped a deep groan from his throat as wave of sweet pain washed over his scalp. His sudden vocalization sent her flying back with wide eyes.

"What are we doing?" She said through heavy breaths.

"You wanna stop?" He spoke, equally breathless. Her immediate reaction was to say 'no,' which scared her into stunned silence. Remus took this lapse to quickly stand to his full height and push her back towards her table. His lips were back on hers as he carelessly slid her belongings to the ground. He had just enough clarity to move the candle with a bit more diligence, setting it down on the table in front of hers.

Finding herself trapped snuggly between Remus and the wood, she hopped up to sit on the table. This new position seemed to suit Remus as well, seeing as he slotted himself directly between her open legs. His lips descended from her mouth to her jaw. He lost himself in her gasps as he nipped and sucked at her skin, though, he wasn't lost enough to ignore the way her hips jolted into his when sunk his teeth into the junction where her jaw met her neck.

His hands slid further down, testing the boundaries below the waist. His callused fingers pulled up the edge of her sweater to find the band of her jeans. Despite the way he was hungrily eating away at her flesh, his hands were hit a stagnant pace.

"God, you're always so slow," she growled, smacking his hands out of the way to undo the button of her jeans. She expected some sort of quip in return, maybe even a harsh bite on her neck, but there was nothing. Remus was silent except for his breathing, yet, his eyes shown a different story. The candlelight reflecting against his pupils created tiny fires encased by a ring of hazel. He removed his lips but not his body, keeping her pressed to the table as his licked the fingers of his right hand. He shoved past her loosened jeans and panties to find her pussy, already a bit wet. She gasped, but he quickly used his other hand to clamp her mouth shut.

“Slow enough for you?” He whispered against the shell of her ear as one finger lightly dipped past her entrance. He was achingly slow yet deliberate, pushing his finger in before letting it recede. She moaned into his palm against her will at the pace. Her hands moved to grab his wrist, but somehow, he was quicker. He moved from her mouth to clasp her hands and slam them down on the table behind her, causing her to slide backwards and him to gain more control on top of her.

“Oh, too slow?” He asked in mocking tone. In an instant, his fingers had gone from feather-light strokes to quick pumps, fucking her entrance without any of the gentleness he’d given before. The sudden speed with which he'd changed his pace caused his other hand to slacken his grip on her restraint, and one of her hands slipped to hold onto his shoulder.

"Fuck, hold on – slow – Remus, please," she gasped out. His fingers hurt, but there was something so delicious about the pain he was giving her, like a bruise you couldn't stop pressing. Remus, hearing her, eased up slightly to a lighter pace, though, he was still moving without an ounce of caution.

With the new pace in place, her hand moved slowly down from his shoulder and towards his abdomen. Finally, she found purchase just under his raggedy belt where a bulge had formed. When she gripped him, a groan left his lips, and his fingers stuttered their movements.

"Merlin, don't cum in your pants." Though she was nearly breathless, her words still held that same edge they always did.

"Fuck you," he rasped as his thumb found her clit. The new sensation sent a shockwave through her, and her hand resurfaced on his bicep. It had only been minutes since he'd started, but, embarrassingly enough, she felt the hot mixture of pain and pleasure tightening in her. Within moments, she couldn't take it anymore, and a half-silent cry escaped her as she came on his fingers. His movements slowed, but never let up entirely.

"Don't cum in your pants next time," he whispered gruffly as his hand slipped away. It was then that she realized that her jeans were still up to her thighs, and Remus never bothered to remove her panties to gain more access. Ignoring the way he'd said 'next time,' she met his eyes.

"Are you gonna blue-ball yourself or get on with it?" She snipped.

"You always have something to say," he shook his head. His fingers, still laced with her release, reached for his belt. Each of them shuffled out of their jeans and undergarments. Remus was quick to shuffle through his discarded pants to find his wallet, which housed a singular crumpled condom. She watched as he tore it open.

"Who's fucking you, Lupin?" She scoffed.

"You, apparently," he replied, slipping the condom over his length. He hated that he was hard as a rock without being touched, but chose to ignore that fact as he lined himself with her entrance.

Remus sunk into her slow, a feeling that caused each of them to hiss at. His hands found her waist as hers found his shoulders. For a moment, they were still: her, sitting at the edge of the table, him, between her legs. Then, he began to move. Slow, languid strokes to the rhythm of something a little more tender than what they were doing.

"You fuck like a grandpa," she huffed against his shoulder. Truth be told, she actually quite liked the pace he'd set. It wasn't as if she could let him know that, though.

"Merlin, you talk too much," he groaned in reply. Half-angered and half-turned on by her words, he immediately assumed a quicker pace. It was a fast ramp up from tender love-making to hateful fucking that had them both gasping for air. He thrust into her without regard for any of her pleasure, choosing to chase his own high. In return, she met him halfway, returning his vigor with just as much urgency.

Though they both still had their sweaters on, their grips on each other threatened to wear the material. Her nails dug past the woven fabric to prick his skin, and the pads of his fingers pressed harsh marks into her waist. The speed at which they were moving drove Remus further to the edge, and after a while, he was biting back whimpers. Sensing this, she licked her lips.

"I'm not even close," she spoke, though, her breathless voice partially betrayed her. Remus, however, couldn't care less whether she was bluffing or not. His hand slipped from her waist to find where they met. Like before, his thumb rubbed circles against her clit, causing her to clench around his length. This new feeling was the straw that broke the camels back, and each of them came undone, letting out simultaneous moans of pleasure.

Remus gave a few more weak thrusts before the sensation became too much and he chose to stand still, heaving hot breaths into the crook of her neck. They were both still in the wake of what they'd done. Clarity washed over them, and eventually he pulled out.

They silently gathered themselves. He moved away from her and tied off the condom while she located and pulled up her partially wet panties. The only sounds that accompanied them were heavy breaths and zippers.

"We shouldn't have been so loud," she spoke as she gathered her books into her bag, "It's a bloody library, someone could've easily caught us."

"You shouldn't have been in the library in the first place," he huffed in return. Under the light of the still-burning candle, Remus noticed a splotch of wetness at the edge of the table. Moving his sleeve past his palm, he wiped the spot down.

"Ew," her brows furrowed as she looked at him with disgust.

"I was just inside you, you can't say 'ew' to that," he rolled his eyes at her. She opened her mouth to respond, but instead, shifted her weight. A sigh left her lips.

"We should leave separately," she spoke quietly, "You go ahead first."

"Oh, so you can stay in the library past hour?" He raised a brow.

"You're one to talk! All you do is cause problems, and–" she stopped herself with a deep inhale, "Just leave first, yeah? You're probably supposed to be back by now, Prefect rounds don't last this long." While he wanted to argue, he instead let out a huff and whispered a quick lumos to light the end of his wand. With a final glance back at her, he left, quickly making his way out of the library and to the halls. As he walked, he finally had a moment to realize what they'd just done.

What in hell was that? He calmed himself by looking at the facts. Fact: he hated her. Fact: she hated him. Fact: that was the best sex he'd ever had. Fact: he wanted to do it again.

He swallowed hard as he stepped through the portrait of the Fat Lady and into the Gryffindor common room. His movements were robotic: first, going to the washroom to clean up and dispose of the condom still in his possession, second, moving to his dorm room to not sleep. He slipped into the room quietly to find each of his roommates asleep. Relief flooded him as he slipped his sweater over his head.

"You're late." A voice startled him so bad that he nearly threw his sweater. Gulping, he scanned the room to find Sirius partially propped up. His black hair was a mess, and it seemed as though he was only half awake.

"Yeah, uh," Remus finished changing and slipped into his bed, "A few first years were out. Causing trouble, y'know, the usual."

"I thought maybe you'd ran into Y/n, got into a late-night screaming match," Sirius giggled. The mention of her name caused him to tense, but he tried his best to laugh along with the joke.

"No, no Y/n," he lied through his teeth.

"Y'know," Sirius sat up a bit more, "You two should just shag and get it over with. I bet–”

"Goodnight, Pads," Remus interrupted him quickly.

"Fine, fine, don't shag," he shrugged, laying back down, "Never know."

Though he tried to fight it, a small grin stretched across his lips. Remus knew very well.

#thursday writes #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus john lupin #remus j lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader smut #smut #mdni #18+ only

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cursedkeyboard · 4 months

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Babies shouldn't grow up ☆ Jason Todd & GN!Reader (PT.6 FINAL)

What does Jason do after he secures his spot as your number one person and you slowly but surely grow up into an independent teen..? Wait, stop, you're not supposed to do that. You're his baby. [PART ONE ♤ PART TWO ♤ PART THREE ♤ PART FOUR ♤ PART FIVE ♤ PART SIX]

Pairings: Platonic Jason Todd & Child GN!Reader / Batfamily & Child GN!Reader

Okay, let's be honest here, Jason would hate how fast time flies

As busy as he'd be splitting his life between vigilante work and fatherhood, taking down crazy new villains, attending to your school events, catching up with his friends, going on family vacations, Jason would 100% still notice how fast you were growing

By the way he'd have to often buy you new clothes because of your growth spurt

And how the current mark on the wall where he measured your height was inches apart from the first one he made

You were spending more time with your friends, the things you were getting interested in made no sense to him, and you wouldn't go to him to take care of your hair as much as you used to

It fucking terrified Jason

He hated it, so much

While he was proud and absolutely thrilled that you were independent, confident, and a hell of a charmer, he also wanted his baby back

The little brat who barely came up to his elbows

The one who'd cling to his legs whenever he told you to clean your room and would get dragged around

Hell, he really missed how you'd fit so easily in his arms as he carried you around

You still fit, he was a big guy after all, but for you it'd be a bit embarrassing for your dad to carry you around like that

Teenagers and embarrassment, am I right?

Now in his late twenties and over all that anger inside him, Jason would probably whine about it to his family

"I mean, how can someone grow so fast? It makes no fucking sense!"

"Jason, it's been five years, kids grow."

"Thanks Captain Obvious, but mine shouldn't!"

"What? You wanted the kid to be eleven forever?"

"..."

"Jay..."

"Shut the fuck up."

Somehow, being so lonely and melancholic over watching you sprout and bloom, Jason would even end up bonding a little with Bruce

Think about it, at this point Bruce would already be in his sixties or something, so Cass would've taken over the mantle by then

I'd imagine he'd still work as intelligence for the League but with Cass as the Hero of Gotham and Tim as the CEO of Wayne Industries, the old bat would have a lot of time in his hands

Which he'd spend around his family and grandkid

And when Bruce noticed Jason's pouty and broody demeanor when you were texting a friend, he couldn't help but laugh

"Now you know how I feel."

"It's different. It's going too fast."

"Son, I watched all of you leave the manor in less than fifteen years, it's always too fast."

Begrudgingly, Jason listened to Bruce's advice, that same old anxiety rising up in his chest, leaving him vulnerable and restless

"The best thing you can do is talk to your kid. I learned it the hard way with all of you and I know things would've been different if I had reached out sooner."

Jason couldn't deny that, even if the look in his old man's face did make his chest hurt a little

It's not like he hadn't thought about it, to be honest, you two always had a very open and communicative relationship

That was the exact reason why you two trusted each other implicitly and barely ever had any fights

But he was scared, downright terrified that you would confirm his fears

Just imagining you saying "I'm fifteen, dad, of course I'm not gonna hang out as much with you anymore." already broke his heart

So after whining a little to anyone near him and almost getting stabbed by Damian for "being such a clueless moron", Jason decided to put his big, grown ass adult pants and talk to you

It would be during a late afternoon, when the sun is setting and you had decided to make dinner tonight while Jason set the table

He'd run his hand through his hair once, then twice, maybe even thrice, and ask without looking at you

"Are you embarrassed of me?"

You'd almost burn yourself by whipping your head so hard Jason thought you'd snap your neck

"What?"

Ok, so they were doing this

Cool. Cool cool cool.

It was now or never

"You've been spending a lot of time away, always on your phone, we– uh, we haven't matched or hung out in a while either so– I get it, kid, I know you wouldn't want to–"

"Wait, stop, are you serious?"

Uh, oh, you were using the same tone as Damian

Like you thought he was the dumbest being to walk on earth

Damn that little demon for corrupting you

"I was just wondering, okay? I understand if–"

"No– dad, what? I thought you were busy!"

"What?"

Let's rewind a bit

You'd always been pretty attached to Jason, always glued to his hip, mimicking his mannerisms and speech

Steph even called you "mini Red Hood" when you started to unconsciously copy the way your old man dressed and his slangs

It was terribly cute for everyone

And you were proud of it! You were!

Jason was your hero, your favorite person, your dad

You wanted to be like him and you weren't ashamed of it, not even when Damian tried making fun of you

Because he was a dirty Batman wannabe and nobody liked those

He was your best friend and confidant, the one adult you'd trust fully without questions, always by his side and supporting him through everything

Except for that one time playing monopoly but that was Cass's influence

You owned Red Hood merch, you liked spending weekends and holidays with him, you matched your tastes and likes to everything Jason liked because it was Jason and you wanted to be closer to him

Birthdays could end up being just the two of you and you'd still be thrilled to have your dad around (even if the other bats would never allow such sad little party)

You had around nine years of experience with shitty adults, so excuse you for being overjoyed that your real dad was someone worth loving fully and irrevocably

But everything changed when you turned fourteen and the kids in your class started acting... weird

"Urgh, my mom is so embarrassing."

"My dad keeps calling me little princess even though I told him to stop!"

"Why are parents so cringe."

Apparently, disliking your parents made you cool in middle school

But that's not what changed things

It was when your friends laughed at you for talking so much about Jason, asking you if your old man even had time to do other things when you kept clinging to him

Which... you had never thought about

In all honesty, being around your dad was so natural at that point, always in his field of vision, relating random things to him, texting one word messages just to check in, that you hadn't realized you've might have been hogging his attention too much

Some unease and insecurities wormed their way inside your vulnerable teen heart and you convinced yourself you had been taking too much of your father's time

You couldn't even remember the last time he hung out with his best friend

What if he became sick of you?

What if he was already annoyed?

That terrified you, it truly did

Long story short, you forced yourself to change a little, keeping a bit more distance, not being as needy or clingy

You even started doing your hair by yourself, which sucked so much ass

You never realized how much thought and care your dad put in taking care of you

It made you miss him even more, but you wanted to be a good kid and let your dad have some freedom

He was still in his 20s after all!

And with him a bit more involved with his vigilante side of life, going to the manor more often, and the rise in criminal activity, you had assumed he was busy being an adult

Which, eurgh, you missed him so bad

But you were being a good child!

So much for that

By the time you finished explaining your side of things, after the two of you stared at each other for long moments, Jason was left with his head in his hands

He made a noise akin to a deflating balloon, his shoulders slumping

Good god, the two of you were embarrassing

He loved you

So fucking much

Jason thought his heart would explode

He could've been a little upset that you didn't just... talk to him but then again, he also didn't talk to you

Like father, like kid

"You're so stupid!"

Your laughter warmed his heart as he grabbed you by the shoulders and wrapped you in a bear hug, squeezing you tightly

Yep, you still fit perfectly in his arms

"Says the one who listened to the words of fourteen year olds!"

"I was also fourteen!"

Even though you two bickered and grumbled, his sigh of relief in your hair was very telling

And so was the way you clung to him tightly

God, he had missed his kiddo so much

"Never do that to me again, okay? Babies shouldn't grow so fast."

"I'm fifteen, dad."

"And you're also cute and short, so you're still my baby."

"Everyone is short when you're six foot."

"Thank the pit for that."

"I don't think I will, actually."

That night, after the two of you ate your somewhat burnt dinner, Jason carried you to the couch despite your whining and cuddled you as you picked your movie of choice

You did grow, currently in that awkward teen phase with growing pains and longer limbs, but the way you tucked your head beneath his chin was still the same

The way you looked at him, eyes filled with happiness and adoration, was still the same

Your laugh and sharp words, how you still reacted the same way to certain scenes, your mannerisms, attitude, innocence

Sure, you were growing wonderfully

And you definitely mirrored him a lot more than you knew

But Jason had been a fool for thinking you were changing

You were still his baby, the mean kid with a soft heart, rough past, and dirty mouth he grew to love so much he didn't know what to do with himself

And to know that distance between you two had been manipulated and not purposeful ripped his anxiety right out of his chest

You wanted to be by his side just as much

You loved him just as much

And he couldn't ask for more

"You will let me do your hair tomorrow though, you fucking suck at it."

"Suck a bag of dicks, dad."

"Love you too, brat."

The end.

246 notes · View notes

awlumii · 2 years

Text

rain check.

# — pairing: (spidey!)kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, kazuha

# — warnings: n/a

# — summary: "i'm late, i'm late! for a very important date! no time to say 'hello, goodbye,' i'm late, i'm late, i'm late!" — white rabbit, alice in wonderland

# — tags: spidey!kazuha au, fluff, brief angst, making up, getting together, there's kisses involved, reader's also a simp (lol)

# — notes: [stands awkwardly in the corner] heyy... i tried my hand at the au again... as always, reblogs and reactions are greatly appreciated, and i really hope you enjoy this!

wanna join the tag list?

✧ — 🍁 + 🕷 — ✧

the meeting time was 7:30 pm originally.

7:45 pm. the waitstaff asked you if you wanted to order anything. you politely declined and informed them that you'd order when your date arrived.

8:15 pm. you texted kazuha and got no response. you eventually grew impatient and reluctantly ordered food for yourself. your face burned at the looks of pity you received from the employees.

8:45 pm. you still didn't get a response from kazuha. you tried not to text him too frequently in fear of sounding clingy or belligerent, but after an hour or so of radio silence, you couldn't help but triple (or even quadruple) text him.

9:00 pm. you check your phone. still no response from kazuha.

9:15 pm. you figured that dessert wouldn't hurt, but it was hard to stomach what with the waitstaff watching you from afar. if you strained your ears, you could hear them whispering something about a customer being stood up and having to eat alone.

9:30 pm. you didn't eat the dessert.

9:45 pm. you asked for the check. they refused to give you one. they gave you their pity instead.

10:00 pm. you left.

10:05 pm. five minutes after you started walking home, there was a blinding flash of lightning. that was the only warning you received before the skies opened up.

the frigid rain seeps through your clothes and chills you to the bone. surprisingly, it's not as unpleasant as it sounds; you were starting to feel a little numb, anyway. quiet splashes echo from the sidewalk as you drag yourself home. people pass you by one after the other, each with umbrellas, but you pay them no mind. you continue on your way.

maybe you're being dramatic, but you feel like shit right now.

when kazuha first suggested going to such a nice restaurant, you were a little hesitant to agree. never mind your preferences — kazuha isn't one for lavish affairs. he's told you as much before. even if the place wasn't super pricey, the ambience seemed to be a bit too much for his tastes. it took some coaxing on his part — he said he wanted to ask you something important, which only served to make your stomach twist into knots — but in the end, he finally got you to say yes. (truthfully, you folded as soon as he took your hands in his — you really need to learn to say no to him.)

it wasn't until you were getting ready to leave that you realized that this was going to be your tenth date with kazuha. is that why he was so insistent on going somewhere nice? you thought it adorable that he seemed to be keeping track of the number of dates the two of you have been on. it made you excited to see him — so excited in fact, that you showed up fifteen minutes early.

and yet in spite of this whole thing being his idea, kazuha never showed up, leaving you to make a fool of yourself in one of the nicest restaurants in the city.

"knew i should've stayed home," you grumble as you trudge through the downpour. you're totally lying to yourself; you had no intention of saying no to him. kazuha could suggest anything and you know you'd agree at the drop of a hat. but as they say, hindsight is 20/20; you should have dug your heels in and said no and suggested something else — maybe something that didn't involve you looking like a fucking moron at a restaurant.

your vision blurs suddenly, forcing you to come to a halt. you think it's because of the torrential rain, but the heat radiating off of your cheeks tells you otherwise. you wipe your eyes free of water — a futile effort — and chuckle humorlessly to yourself. why are you doing this? it's not like anybody's going to notice, right? you sniffle; that can easily be because you're cold and wet.

you sob. you tell yourself it's just a cough.

stop being so dramatic. keep walking.

the second you turn onto a narrow street, you hear a familiar thwip-! coming from overhead. you barely have time to acknowledge that spider-man is swinging around before he's landing right in front of you, blocking your path. you brush rainwater (and tears) out of your eyes to see him better. "you're, uh, kinda in my way, spider-man," you call out over the downpour. "could you move so i can go home?"

"what're you doing out here without an umbrella?" spider-man asks. he doesn't move like you asked; he just steps closer. and if you strain your ears a little, you think he sounds really worried. maybe you're just hearing things. "you're drenched! you're going to get sick at this rate."

for some reason, his concern makes you want to laugh. you crack a smile, though there's very little joy to be found in it. "i'm just taking a nightly stroll." you lie. "and don't worry, i won't get sick. i'm the nurse here, remember? now could you move, please?"

you step around him and start to walk past, but he grabs your arm, stopping you. why is he being like this? what is it with the men in your life tonight? "i... can't be too sure that you'll go straight home." he lets you go and holds out his hands for you to take. "at the very least, allow me to take you."

you make a face. "shouldn't you be saving someone somewhere?"

"i'm offering to take you somewhere, aren't i?" he asks. it sounds more like a retort to you. "and aren't you someone?"

"uh-huh. and what are you saving me from, exactly?"

"if we move fast enough, probably a really bad head cold." spider-man shakes his hand, silently urging you to take it. "come on. i can't have my doctor getting sick, can i?"

you sigh. you don't have it in you to turn down his offer. you never do, now that you're thinking about it. you should really do some self-evaluation. besides, the rain is fucking freezing — it felt nice a few minutes ago, but you can feel yourself starting to shiver and shake. that cold may just catch you regardless of how quickly you get home. "fine," you say and take his hand.

spider-man pulls you in by your hand and wraps an arm around your waist. instinctively, you cling to him as tightly as you can. he's as warm as ever, you note, even in the freezing rain. at this distance, you hear him chuckle: "at least you know to hold on tight." you get no other warning before he's zipping through the air with you in tow. you shriek at the sudden movement, but spider-man only laughs. "you're alright," he reassures you over the wind.

in no time at all, you're being rested on your balcony. you slide open the door and stumble into your apartment on wobbly knees, ignoring spider-man's amused laughter. "you're like a baby deer every time," he giggles. "are you not used to it yet?"

"stop making it sound like i'm the weird one here." you grumble as you lower yourself into a chair. your body feels too stiff and heavy to move. you're still drenched, but all you can do right now is shiver in your seat. meanwhile, spider-man isn't making any moves to leave. he's just watching you — or at least, you think he is. "what're you s-standing there for?" you stutter. you're cold. "what's the matter?"

spider-man puts his hand on the back of his neck and rubs it awkwardly. are you missing something right now? why is he suddenly acting like this? "are you... going to tell me why you were walking in the rain?" he holds the back of his neck, his eyes seemingly still on you. "i refuse to believe that you were taking a 'nightly stroll'." he uses air quotes to repeat your earlier words.

you laugh shakily. "are you interrogating me, spider-man?"

for once, he doesn't laugh with you. "i... just want to know. i'll leave you alone as soon as you tell me; you need to go and warm up."

you open your mouth to explain, but as you look back on the whole incident, you once again feel embarrassment take you by the shoulders. why were you really walking home in the rain? you could've ducked into a store and called a cab or taken public transportation -- what possessed you to do something so childish? your skin, though clammy, heats up as you avert your eyes.

you press your palm against your lips, muffling your voice. "i was, uh... stood up."

"...really now?"

you grimace and nod. "it was, um... supposed to be our tenth date, actually." you recall the blush that coated kazuha's cheeks when he asked you out the other day, and you start to feel the beginnings of a smile on your face. he's so cute — you'd give anything to see him right now.

because as upset as you may have been earlier, you realize that deep down, you just really want to be with kazuha. you're pissed that he still hasn't contacted you yet, but you have faith that he will; this kind of discourtesy isn't like him.

spider-man doesn't know that, though. he makes a noise of disapproval. "pardon my harsh language, songbird," he comments, "but he sounds like an asshole."

you gasp, scandalized. you've never heard him swear before. it sounds so wrong coming from him — was he really that upset about you being stood up? why did that thought make your heart skip a beat? "don't say something like that!" you open your mouth to continue chastising him, but instead you sneeze, hard. you groan and rise to your feet. if you don't move now, you really will catch that cold. "say something bad about my boyfriend again, and i'll fight your face off." you call over your shoulder as you head to your bathroom.

"your boyfriend?" spider-man's words give you pause. you whirl around to glare at him, ready to retort and defend yourself, but he puts his hands up in mock surrender. "you said it, not me. but i must say," he lays his hand over his chest, "i'm wounded, songbird. and here i thought i stood a chance."

you freeze. he thought what?! your mind starts to race immediately, but you reel yourself in quickly. your feelings for spider-man are supposed to be a thing of the past. they were childish and impractical — kazuha is the better choice in every way possible. remember that, you tell yourself.

you flip him off with a sigh. "get out, webhead. i'm going to warm up."

spider-man shrugs, the perfect picture of nonchalance. if only he knew the things he did to your head. "alright, alright." he heads back to your balcony. "take care of yourself, okay?" he calls out to you.

"whatever!" you call back.

with a laugh, he leaps off of your balcony and swings into the stormy night, leaving you dripping in your hallway. you shake your head and start towards your bathroom.

once you've taken a hot shower and put on some warm, dry clothes, you drop yourself onto your couch and turn your tv on. you're not really watching anything, but the background noise is nice. you lay yourself down and roll onto your back.

so the date was a bust. you sigh heavily. that restaurant was so, so nice, too. the atmosphere was perfect — you're pretty sure that if kazuha had asked you to be his partner there, you might have cried. that, or you would have passed out; either one seems likely. you pause for a second. is that what he was going to ask you? oh, you definitely would've cried.

are you really upset about being stood up? you gave it some thought while you were in the shower and decided that no, you're not all that upset. at least, not with kazuha. embarrassed, yes — you can never show your face at that restaurant again — but not upset. kazuha's track record speaks for itself; you can always re-schedule the date.

again, you sigh. you're much too nice to him. simp.

you're about to change the channel on the tv when you hear a frantic knocking on your front door. you jump, startled by the sudden noise. hesitant, you make your way to the door. "uh, who is it?" you call out.

the voice from behind the door makes your stomach flip. "it's kazuha. can i see you? please?"

kazuha? he came here?

you look through your peephole and sure enough, kazuha is standing in front of your door looking very winded, very distressed, and very drenched. without thinking twice, you fling your door open and tug him inside. "what were you thinking, coming here in this weather without an umbrella?!" you hiss at him as you take in his rain soaked state. under any other circumstances, you'd be gentler with him — normally you would never be so snappy with him — but all that's on your mind as you dart over to your linen closet is how sick he's going to be because of this.

kazuha's eyes widen at your tone. "i had to come and see you," he tries to explain. "i--"

you don't let him finish. you drop a soft towel over his head and start rubbing him dry, ignoring the startled noise he makes. "you're still catching your breath, too. christ, did you run here or something?"

you move the towel so that you can see kazuha's face. he looks so apologetic and honestly, really cute with his face peeking out from under the towel. "if i said yes, would you be upset with me?"

"what the-- yes!" you head back over to your linen closet and grab a bigger towel before marching into your room to rifle through your stuff. you can't believe he risked a catching a cold like this! and for what? just to see you? you stop for a moment and recognize just how romantic his gesture is supposed to be. his sprinting all the way to your apartment (and judging by the way his chest was heaving, up the stairs, too) in the freezing rain makes your heart stutter — to think he would go this far just to see you... you shake your head. you can be flattered after he's dry. you hear a quiet sneeze from outside your room and quickly head back out to see kazuha rubbing at his nose.

you shove the clothes you found into his arms along with the towel. "go and take a shower and put these on." you shake your head when he starts to talk back. "nope, i don't want to hear it. when you're done, leave your clothes in the sink and i'll wash and dry them."

"this is--"

"kazuha." your tone is flat and leaves no room for argument. you raise a brow at him and he stares at you for just a second longer before doing as you said. once the bathroom door is closed, you drop yourself back on your couch and bury your face in your hands.

you thought that you weren't upset, but now that he's actually here, you're not quite sure what it is you're feeling. are you pissed because he risked his health to see you? or do you want to punch him for standing you up tonight? well, you think to yourself, he wouldn't have run in the rain if he didn't feel bad about the whole date situation. you look at the bathroom door with a tiny smile. he can be such a charmer when he wants to be — an impulsive one, but a charmer nonetheless. you decide that you're definitely just upset at him for being so stupid.

time passes and eventually kazuha emerges from your bathroom in the large hoodie and sweatpants you forced upon him. he looks adorable in your clothes. you tell him to make himself comfortable before tossing his clothes in the laundry. when you come back, you seat yourself beside him. he seems to be making himself small — either that or he's just drowning in the clothes you gave him. "am i allowed to speak now?" he asks quietly.

you snort. "yes, kazuha, you can speak now."

"i'm really sorry." kazuha's eyes are on you, and you can see the remorse swimming in them. he looks like he's gauging your reaction for permission to continue. when you say nothing, he goes on: "i swear to you, i was on my way there when something suddenly came up," he continues. "it was urgent and demanded all of my attention. i must have gotten so absorbed that i'd forgotten to contact you. by the time everything had finished, it was incredibly late and i figured that you must've gone home, so i..." he trails off.

you tilt your head. "so you ran here?"

kazuha nods. "i... didn't realize doing so would upset you so much. so please, allow me to apologize for that as well. i know my excuse may sound generic and unsatisfying, but you have to believe me when i say that i'm telling the truth.

well, there it is. there's your apology. you press your lips together to fight off a smile. "i believe you just fine," you say. "and i forgive you."

he blinks in disbelief. "are... you sure? aren't you upset with me?"

"do you want me to be?"

"you should be." kazuha winces. this is seriously eating at him; his brows are drawn and his jaw is clenched, showing in no uncertain terms that at least one of you is upset. upset may not even be the right word. he's starting to look pained, if not anything else. why is he being like this? for the second time tonight, you feel like you're missing something here.

you reach over and gently tap your fingers against his own in a silent request to take his hand. he visibly stalls before tentatively wrapping his pinky around yours. "i really do forgive you, you know." you murmur. "life happens, and sometimes plans don't work out. that's just the way things are."

kazuha sighs, unconvinced by your kindness. "the whole date was my idea." he takes his hand away from yours. "at the very least, i should have contacted you." he looks away from you. "and i know that... that this won't be the last time something like this happens. i don't want to keep disappointing you like this."

there's a hidden weight to his words that you pick up on. it's apparent that he's not telling you something, but it's not like you can just pry it out of him. he's barely listening to you as it is. you find yourself stuck between being flattered that he cares so much and worried that he'll truly never forgive himself for this. what can you do to convince him that you're not mad?

kazuha's shoulders tense and you can see color faintly rising to his cheeks. "and i was going to ask you..." he pauses for a second to look at you. "...something important, but i'm worried that i shouldn't. that i don't deserve to."

...you knew it. you fucking knew it! you see the way he's looking at you — he was totally going to ask you to be his partner. the problem now though, is that he's probably not going to. he's kicking himself while he's down, ruining your relationship before you even had a chance to form one.

it's not hard to see things his way. he's worried that he can't guarantee that he'll be able to confidently make time for you without interruption. it's a legitimate concern — who doesn't worry about this kind of thing? what he needs to hear now is not that everything's okay, but rather that it will be; that you're content with any mistakes he may make; that you're more than willing to take him as he is, urgent issues and all.

again, you knock your fingers on his. this time, you hook two of your fingers on his. "ask me." you tell him.

kazuha frowns slightly. "i don't..."

"do you still want to ask?"

"of course." he pauses to squints at you. "you already know what it is i'm going to ask you, don't you?"

you bite back a grin. "maybe i do, maybe i don't. ask me anyways."

a smile ghosts across his face as his cheeks redden just a little bit more. "i was going to ask if you wanted to... make our relationship official." he looks down at your joined fingers before looking back at you. "and it would mean the world to me if you said—"

"yes."

kazuha takes your hand fully. "i had a feeling you would say that." it's evident in the way he visibly softens and in the way he sighs that he's pleased with your answer (although 'pleased' is far too light a word to describe the pure, raw happiness that overtook his face). maybe you're going crazy, but you think that something akin to love flashes in his eyes. it overwhelms you. he takes your hand fully in his and you feel your own face start to warm just from looking at him.

"i was always going to say yes," you say when you manage to find your voice. "i want to be with you, kazuha."

his expression dims. did you say something wrong? "i want to be with you too," he says as he brings your hand up to cup his face. "but as i said, i may be a disappointment to you. i don't want to hurt you in any way, even if it's by accident."

you brush your thumb over his skin. it's warm to the touch. "you won't hurt me," you say softly. "and a little disappointment won't be the end of the world."

kazuha regards you closely. he looks like he's trying to be at peace with your hand on his face, but the draw in his brows gives away his internal conflict. for a second, you wonder if you're coming off too strong. you like kazuha a lot (it's probably too soon to say the big L word, but it surely doesn't scare you), but you're always afraid that you're either giving too much of yourself, or not enough. your insistence on dating him may be more repulsive than attractive.

"i like you," he suddenly murmurs, "so much."

your chest feels tight and you feel breathless. why did he suddenly say that? "i like you, too," you reply.

kazuha leans in and presses his forehead against yours. you hold your breath as his eyes slip shut. he seems so at peace at this distance, unlike you, who's trying to swallow back your heart that suddenly leaped into your throat. "i'd like to be yours," he says in the space between. "if you'll have me, that is."

you feel so dizzy, so drunk on your giddy emotions. this isn't how you saw tonight playing out at all, but you're not going to complain. "of course," you breathe your response. your voice trembles just a little, giving away your nervousness. "you're all i want."

at that, kazuha kisses you. it's slow and sweet, and also — if memory serves you right — the fifth time he's kissed you. if life were a cartoon, you would probably flushed bright red, lovestruck and dumb; a fool for the man before you. it takes you a second to kiss him back — he pulls away for just a moment but you capture his lips again and drink in the content sigh he rewards you with. this is different from the kisses you've shared before. the others were reserved and almost timid, hesitant kisses shared at the beginning of a new relationship. this kiss becomes intoxicating and gratifying — one you find yourself quickly getting addicted to.

believe it or not though, it's you who pulls away first, your heart stuttering in your chest. you don't go very far, but you turn your head away to try and retain some of your sanity. it's obvious that what you said had quite the effect on kazuha; his fingers come to your jaw and move you gently so that you're facing him again, but he doesn't close the gap. there's another silence before he kisses you once, then twice, before he pulls away and sighs. "if there's anything that i can do to make up for tonight," he says, "tell me. i'll do anything."

there's only one thing you can think of saying. "stay with me tonight." the words come out easily — maybe a little too easily. you fluster and your face heats up considerably as you start to ramble. "i-i mean, um... it's gonna be pouring all night and you clearly don't have an umbrella so i mean, i think you should stay. if you want to, then of course you can stay, but you can say no — i just don't want you to catch a cold, y'know..."

kazuha says nothing; he watches you with thinly veiled amusement in his eyes. "would me staying the night make you happy?"

you groan quietly. "stop enjoying this. you know the answer already."

"i do, i do. you're just really cute when you're embarrassed."

"you know what? forget it. i'm gonna go check on your clothes." you stand abruptly to escape your discomfort, but kazuha takes your hand in his, stopping you with a laugh.

"i'm sorry, dove, i'm sorry." he chuckles as he speaks. he stands and pulls you in by your waist. "i'll stay the night. does that sound good?"

you rest your hands on his shoulders poised to push him away, but think against it. your heart is hammering in your chest. it's hard to be mad at him when he's smiling like that, even if it's at your expense. asking him to stay was a spur of the moment decision, but when you look at him like this, up close, you know that you would've had a hard time letting him go. so... "yeah," you mutter. "sounds good. now will you please let me go and check on your clothes?"

he hums and leans in. his voice is barely above a murmur when he speaks. "one more thing." and for (what you think is) the eighth time since you've started seeing each other, kazuha kisses you, sending pleasure rocketing through your system. it drags on despite you trying to pull away, what with kazuha chasing after your lips with a mischievous smile the entire time.

eventually, you get fed up and hold his face. "knock it off, you." you say once you successfully pull away. "i have things to do."

kazuha, who looks far brighter than he was earlier, lets you go and raises his hands in mock surrender. "alright, alright. go on. i'll be here; i promise."

you open your mouth to say something snide, but quickly shut it. you're floored by just how happy he makes you, even if he can be annoying from time to time. perhaps it's because you're technically in the honeymoon phase, but you know for a fact that his smile is one you'd do anything to protect. becoming his partner is a decision you know you'll never, ever regret, and you're sure of that.

you turn on your heel and start towards the laundry room. "don't miss me too much!" you call over your shoulder. kazuha's quiet laughter follows you out of the room, warming your heart.

✦ [screaming and crying]

✦ I HAVE BEEN GOING THROUGH KAZUHA WITHDRAWALS FOR DAYS AND THAT'S WHY THERE'S SO MANY KISSES, I'M SO SORRY I'M SUCH A PATHETIC BITCHNDBSDJ

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin kazuha x reader #[ ✍️🏽 — scribbles! ]#does a half-happy dance

2K notes · View notes

justapoet · 11 days

Text

Random dialogue prompt list

"Have you ever been in love?" "No. Why?" "I think I'm in love with you."

Distancing themself from the other because they start to think that there is definitely something wrong with them

Stuttering

"I missed you so much, I don't know why. But, I did."

"You look perfect in this outfit." "Oh."

“Tell me you did not go to a fight without me.” “I don’t need you to protect me.” “It’s not about protection-”

"Did you forget that it was your turn to grab the groceries today?" "Yeah, sorry. I thought I'd wait for you so we can go together?"

“The problem lies within the fact that I want more. That’s what scares me the most, because I don’t want to want more. But I can’t help it.”

“You said you loved me last night.”

“So that confession…” “Didn’t mean shit ‘cause I was drunk. And I don’t want you accepting that. Let me confess to you, properly, at the least.”

“I swear I didn’t murder anyone.”

"Who are you when you're not performing?" "Fuck. Marry me."

“You have the most beautiful smile, you know that?”

“I just want(ed) to make you smile.”

“I was just getting my coffee, but then I fell in love with you”

"I…I missed you." "Oh."

“I desperately want to kiss you.”

“Maybe it’s a good mood. Maybe it’s a manic episode.”

"Don't open your eyes"

"Goddammit, don't say that!"

“Fuck it. I’m in.”

“Too late. I’m already yours.”

“Nothing - no matter how weird or dark - could ever change the way I feel about you.”

“For once, I’m completely serious.”

“I don´t believe that you know what the hell you are doing half of the time.”

“There isn’t a single unit of thought behind your eyes.” “Of course, not. I’m looking at you. My brain doesn’t work when I’m looking at you.”

"Are we going to talk about it?"

“I’d tear down mountains and rewrite the stars just to see you smile.”

“You weren’t part of my life plan.”

“So, tell me, what do you feel for me?”

“I’m this close to resorting to physical violence if shit continues to not work out.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Say another word and I´ll shove these fries down your throat.”

“Could you even try to be nice to me today?”

“There are about thirty-five ways this could go wrong. I’d say that’s pretty good odds.”

"Are you seriously considering to go through with this complete absurd?"

"It's a miracle you're still alive." "Mom does say you're a miracle worker, yes."

"You're sick. Did the fever make you forget how to dial my number?"

"Just do it, you moron."

"My self-control is hanging by a thread right now. Please, don't do this to me."

“Hey, neighbour, I’ve never met you before but your dog just destroyed my garden."

“Well, I’m afraid that opinion’s going to change once you get to know me.”

"Ever thought of stepping outside, or have you become part of the furniture?"

"Can you just look at me? Please?"

"I needed to hear your voice."

“Just to clarify: We are in a relationship, right?”

"You're the only thing I should be afraid of, and that fear died off years ago."

“it’s a bit frustrating to how oblivious you are.”

“what do i have to do or say for you to notice that i’m in love with you?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t supposed to happen and I was not supposed to say that, I’m so sorry.”

so, hi! this is just a silly prompt list, but I'd very much like to ask you to send me asks and resquest a fic from any of them!

I'll be writing for the following couples:

Buddie (9-1-1)

Percabeth (Percy Jackson)

Nick and Chalie (Heartstopper)

Aziracrow (Good Omens)

Polin (Bridgerton)

Kathony (Bridgerton)

If you have any other couples from these universes that you might want, you can send them to me, as well. Other than Buddie (that it's not canon just yet), I like best to only write canon couples.

#prompt list #dialogue prompts #my writing #send me requests!#requests are open #percabeth #buddie #heartstopper #aziracrow #polin #kathony #bridgerton #percy jackson #good omens #911 on abc #fic requests

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onsunnyside · 2 years

Note

Alpha!Lloyd and Bunny! Reader ahhh

He’s like a big bad wolf 🥵

he isn’t an alpha since it’s just bunny hybrid!reader but the vibes are there 🌚 This is inspired by a scene in TGM.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Lloyd Hansen x bunny hybrid!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | dark, manipulation, mean daddy!lloyd, innocent!reader, smut - minors dni, thigh riding, daddy kink, degradation, dumbification, dacryphilia, dom/sub undertones, rough oral (m), facefucking, mhm balls sucking, ears and tail tugging. through screens: violence, death (reader is briefly forced to watch, not in detail).

𝗪/𝗖 | 1255

˗ˏˋ 𝐂𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ♡⋆* 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

You peek around the corner, eyes wide with amazement at the many screens displaying different views of a city. From buildings, roads and stone walkways, it was a place you’ve never seen before.

You lean a little further, spotting the various agents at the rows of desks, typing on keyboards with focused expressions.

Lloyd never let you watch television unattended, he said it was because it was dangerous for you to be exposed to things you didn’t know. It was either himself or someone from his team sitting next to you, and carefully picking what you would watch.

Lloyd’s voice is faint, and curiosity gets the better of you, pulling you deeper into the room.

“You have my permission to take out anyone in the way. Light it up.”

The screens blip out before multiplying tenfold, showing many more views of the city. It’s hard to see from this angle, you barely make out the interior of cars and trucks, and the cityscapes from rooftops.

“I said, shoot anyone who gets in the way. God, it’s like everyone forgot basic comprehension skills.”

“There are civilians—”

“You heard me the first time didn’t you?” Lloyd’s voice deepens, you can almost feel the rumbling in your tummy, “or do you need me to repeat myself? If so, you’re just like my girl. The only difference is, I like when she’s just a little dummy, it makes everything way more fun—”

You stiffen, your sweaty palms sliding down the doorframe.

“—Fucking morons!”

The sudden shout has you tumbling through the door and landing on the floor. Your knees slam into the hardwood, as do the palms of your hands, the loud thump shatters the tension. You don’t dare to move—as if that would help you, and everyone would magically not see the girl lying on the ground in a sundress. It was just hopeless at this point, but you didn’t want to get punished.

Lloyd sighs from his seat behind the rows of desks and computers, “Speak of the bunny.” He murmurs, setting down his empty glass and turning his attention to you as if there weren’t dozens of bullets flying on the screens. “Pumpkin, you know you aren’t allowed to be in here.” He keeps his voice levelled although he knew you were there the whole time.

Who else’s fluffy ear was peeking through the doorway?

You slowly stand up, shaking in your socks as you meet his surprisingly calm gaze.

Your first instinct is to hide, in his closet maybe—no, he found you there last time. The bathtub in one of the guest rooms is better, it gives you more time to come up with an apology, and you’d be extra quiet this time.

You go to leave but Lloyd snaps his fingers, making you freeze on the spot. “C’mere, baby. Let’s watch daddy win together.”

Quiet as a ghost, you clamber into his lap, straddling one of his thighs with a shuddering breath. He caresses your back, trailing up and down your neck before his fingers rub your ears. “Pick a number, sunshine.”

“A-Any number?” You don’t know why he isn’t yelling or spanking you, but you’re thankful for the strange moment, regardless of how short it’ll be.

“Any number.”

You avoid the screens, staring down at his shiny shoes. “Five?”

Lloyd tuts, playfully tugging your tail. “You can count higher than that.”

“Uh… thirteen?”

Lloyd grins, “Still not high enough, but that’s better.” He loosely grips your puffy tail, turning away. His tone lowers, losing all the creamy sweetness it had when he was speaking with you. “Extra thirteen million to the first person to blow that guy’s head off.”

You must’ve blacked out or something because the next thing you know, half the screens are gone and explosions erupt on the rest.

Immediately, you cover your eyes with your ears, shaking on Lloyd’s lap as the loud noises filter through the speakers. Behind you and sipping on a fresh glass of bourbon, Lloyd coos. “Oh, you can’t see anything like that, dumb bunny. Don’t you want to see daddy win?”

He moves your ears and forces you to watch the feed by holding your ears in a firm grip, keeping your eyes locked forward. It reminds you of last night when he fucked your mouth, pulling on your ears to control your pace, and making you into a stupid mess.

“You taste yourself on me, bunny? All that fucking cream soaked to my balls, so you’re gonna clean up your mess.” He pulls you off, then brings you forward to his heavy sack. Automatically, you suckle at the wet skin, alternating between flat licks and noisy slurps, you clean your mess from his balls.

Your thighs clench tight as you let out a muffled whine that vibrates against his sack, making him groan. He tightens his hold on your ears almost painfully, but it only makes you more eager to please him. You shut your eyes, moaning and sucking his balls while his thick cock lies against your face, drippy with cum and your saliva.

When his grip loosens, you switch to his dick, taking him down your throat until you gag. Tears well in your eyes, blurring your vision as your brain gets foggy. You don’t even notice him snapping a quick picture with his cellphone.

Lloyd yanks you off by your ears, growling at the string of saliva connecting his bulbous tip to your swollen lips. He angles your head until his sack is in your parted mouth, and you, being the good bunny you are, start kissing and licking him immediately. He curses lowly, gripping his hard length with his other hand, jerking off above you.

“That’s a good little whore, you really like sucking on daddy’s fat balls, huh? You thanking me for all the cum I’ve given you?” Lloyd cruelly slaps his cock on your cheek when you pull away for a breath, with spit and cum all over your face. “What’s wrong, bunny? Forgot to breathe with my balls in your mouth?”

You start crying as more screens go blank and disappear, the active ones get bigger and you see the various bodies and pools of blood in whatever city it was. That’s when Lloyd releases you and you spin around, clumsily curling into his lap and tucking yourself into his neck, whining.

“You aren’t going to leave?”

“T-Too scared,” You jump as another explosion goes off, you don’t even want to know how many screens—people—are left. “Don’t wanna—please don’t make me.”

“Oh, I won’t.” He bounces his thigh that’s snug between your legs, the muscle flexes under your cotton panties, and you’re already wet from simply remembering the previous night.

That’s why he also called you an easy bunny. Anything, a single touch or kiss, or a dirty sentence could make you soaked, regardless of the situation. It makes him proud and immensely turned on considering he just completed another job and made more money than other people will in their entire lives—in the time span of a few hours.

That’s why he was the best in the sector.

He won, yet again, and he has you crying and wet in his lap, yet again.

Life was good.

“Looks like you missed daddy’s victory—that’s okay, you’ll get to stay if you make a pretty mess on my leg.” Lloyd grips your tail, using it to move you on his thigh despite your whimpers, “Keep crying, bunny, you know how much I love seeing you like that.”

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wheels-of-despair · 7 months

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Eddie Munson Is My Babydaddy Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie and Evil Woman are responsible for a Flour Sack Baby for a week. Shenanigans ensue. Contains: Attachment issues, googly eyes, goofiness, family fun time, actual parental figures being So Done with these morons. Words: 3k

"Jesus!"

The stack of papers Mrs. Baker had just dropped on your desk was so massive, a staple wouldn't have had a chance. They were contained inside a yellow folder. You opened it to reveal the ridiculous amount of worksheets that would soon need filling out, and looked to your left to find Eddie as wide-eyed as you were.

"I wonder how many trees died for this project's sins?" Eddie mused.

"Can it, Munson," the teacher said playfully. She was one of the good ones. You and Eddie had lucked out and ended up in the same health class together this semester, and today was Flour Sack Baby Day. Just before prom. Well played, Mrs. Baker.

After the last of the novel-length piles of paper were handed out, Mrs. Baker returned to the front of the room. "The packets are pretty self-explanatory. Do we need to go over the rules again?"

She was answered with a collective murmur of "no."

"Alright, come get your baby when I call you, then you can use the rest of today's class to start on the packets and figure out who's taking what shift. Birth certificates need to be filled out and signed before you leave here today!"

Three minutes later, the Munsons are proud parents of a flour sack baby. It's just a five-pound store-brand bag of flour with a "9/M" written on it in permanent marker. Your project has a number and a gender. Now it needs a name.

You open the packet and find the birth certificate. You fill out the parental information while Eddie stares down the bag of this week's responsibility. You can't wait to see how he handles it.

"Alright, pops, we need a name."

"Frodo Baggins," he says without hesitation.

"Frodo Baggins Munson? No way you were ever allowed to reproduce, I demand a paternity test."

"Fro-DOUGH BAG-gins. 'Cause flour makes dough. And it's in a bag."

You chuckle and fill in the rest of the flour baby's birth certificate without even bothering to argue. You both sign on your dotted lines, then you walk it to the front of the room to have Mrs. Baker approve it. She looks at the name, and then up at you quizzically.

"Sorry. His father's a terminal nerd. I pray it's not genetic." She laughs and signs the paper, and you return to your seat. Eddie has the flour sack in his lap.

"Alright, Baby Frodough, your birth has been officially recognized by The Man." You pat the top of the sack in Eddie's lap. "Now what?"

"I guess we divvy him up between classes?"

You decide to keep him for the morning classes, and Eddie would take him after lunch. You were usually together after school anyway, so that would be no problem.

"He needs something," Eddie says, staring at the flour sack he's now cradling like an actual baby. You're not sure if you want to laugh or kiss him. The bell rings.

"Like what?" you ask, shoving the packet into your backpack.

You can practically see the lightbulb go off over his head. "C'mon."

"Okay?" You grab your stuff, and Eddie's too, and try to keep up with the nerd darting out of the classroom with a sack of flour.

Three doors down, Eddie stands in the doorway to the art room. "Mr. Harris, do you have any googly eyes?"

"What?" you hear from inside when you finally catch up. You linger by Eddie's side in the doorway and see the art teacher eyeing Eddie suspiciously.

"Do you have any googly eyes?"

"Why?"

Eddie holds the sack of flour out and cries, "Our baby can't see how much we love him!"

You snort. Mr. Harris throws back his head and laughs. "Third drawer," he points to a cabinet, "knock yourselves out."

"Thanks!" Eddie grins, hugging Frodough close and heading toward the cabinet. You open it and dig through the drawer of leftover art supplies together, finally finding two eyes that were relatively the same size and a bottle of glue. Eddie places the flour baby on a table and bends over to glue his eyes on. "There we go. Hi, Frodough! I'm your dad!" He waves at the flour sack, then nudges you with his hip. "Introduce yourself!"

With a roll of your eyes, you give in, "Hi, Frodough. I'm your mom. I'm the normal one, obviously." Eddie's jaw drops in mock offense, and the warning bell rings.

"Shit, we gotta go." You pick up the flour baby and head for the door, both calling another "thanks!" to Mr. Harris on the way out.

"Bye, Frodough. I'll see you at lunch." Eddie lovingly touches the flour sack in your arms, mutters a "careful, that glue's not dry yet," then turns on his heel and walks in the other direction.

"…and goodbye to you too, dear! Have a lovely day! Bring home that bacon!" you call sarcastically to his back. He spins around to flash you a wicked grin before nearly running into a band geek and turning a corner. "Alright kid, guess it's just you and me," you mumble to the bag on the way to your next class.

At lunch, Eddie insists on holding the flour baby on his lap. He proudly introduces Frodough Baggins Munson to his Hellfire Uncles, who look at him as if he's grown tentacles. You hand off the flour sack and the folder at lunch, and much to your surprise… you kind of start to miss lugging that thing around during your afternoon classes.

After the final bell, you wait for Eddie as his locker. When you see them round the corner, you smile. "Hi, boys! I missed you!" Eddie grins back, seeing that you're ready to play with him, and leans down for a kiss. You hold Frodough as Eddie shoves books in his locker, and then head to the parking lot together.

"Should we have a car seat?"

"Shit. Should we?" You look at each other for a minute, then decide that you'll just wear a seatbelt and hold Frodough on your lap. You're surprised when Eddie actually drives the speed limit, but don't say anything. It's cute that he's taking this seriously.

When you get to your house, Eddie holds the flour baby at the kitchen table and works on the packet - the baby's whereabouts and activities need to be logged every hour - while you make snacks. The afternoon passes uneventfully as you work on other homework and pass the flour baby back and forth.

When you hear your mother's car door slam, you get a wicked idea. Leaning back in your chair at the kitchen table, you pull your shirt over the flour sack.

"Mom, we gotta talk," you grin when she walks in the door. She looks at the bulge under your shirt with wide eyes. Before she can ask for an explanation, you moan. "Oh god, it's coming. Eddie, it's coming!" He slides to his knees on the floor next to you without missing a beat.

"Push, babe! Push! You can do this!"

"AHHHH!" you groan as you push the flour sack from beneath your shirt into Eddie's waiting hands. He proudly holds it up to show your mom the googly eyes.

"It's a boy!" Eddie exclaims, face full of mock-surprise.

"Oh God, there's two of them," your mother rolls her eyes to the ceiling and tries to hide her smile. Eddie rests Frodough on your knee and remains on the floor by your side.

"How long is this gonna go on?" she asks.

"A week."

"Well, you'll probably save me a store run. One of my coworkers has a birthday on Friday, I think I might bake her a cake. Can I borrow some of your baby if I run out of flour?"

"Little ears!" you shriek, and go to put your hands on Frodough's ears. You hesitate. "Where are his ears?" you murmur to Eddie, who positions your hands where he imagines the flour baby's ears to be. "Little ears!" you say again, with your hands in the right place.

Your mother sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, still trying to pretend she doesn't find you hilarious.

"Can Eddie stay for the week? I'd hate for our baby to be from a broken home. Like me. See how weird and damaged I turned out?"

She places her bag in a chair, then leans against the counter and gives you both a calculating look. "Fine," she finally says. "He's here all the time anyway."

"Aww. You wanna hold him, granny?" you grin. Eddie plucks the flour baby from your knee, holding him out from his position on the floor so your mother can take him.

She glares. "Don't."

"Nana?"

"Stop."

"Maw-Maw?"

"Eddie, go home, you're both grounded."

You and Eddie both cackle, knowing he's not going anywhere. Finally, she takes pity on Eddie's shaking arms and picks up the five-pound bag he's been holding out to her through this entire exchange.

"This thing got a name?"

"His name is Frodough Baggins Munson. Like the Tolkien character. Emphasis on the DOUGH and the BAG," Eddie explains.

She looks into the googly eyes and says, "Sorry, kid. Your parents are total dorks."

Eddie is allowed to stay; on the condition that your bedroom door remains open, and that the flour sack sleeps between you. Neither of you has a problem with these terms.

Later that evening, you accompanied him home to get clothes and introduce Frodough to Wayne before he left for work.

"Wayne!" Eddie called when he stepped inside, needlessly, because Wayne was in the kitchen. "Meet your grandson!" He holds the flour sack toward his uncle. Wayne stares into the googly eyes for a minute, and like your mother, rolls his eyes.

"As soon as Wayne's eyes unstick, I need a picture of the Munson men!" you insist, holding up your camera. Eddie bounds over to Wayne, wrapping an arm around him and holding Frodough proudly between them while he grins for the camera.

"Wayne, you're not looking very happy about our little bundle of joy," you jest from behind the camera.

"Y'know," he drawls, "once upon a time, I thought you might be a good influence on the boy. Mellow him out a little. But I think it went the other way. Now there's two of ya."

"Have you been talking to my mom?" you ask, lifting your head above the camera's viewfinder. Wayne laughs, and you snap a quick picture.

The next day, you enlist your brother's help. For the reasonable cost of $5, he becomes your official family photographer for the week. Over the next several days, when you weren't in school, you embarked on a series of family outings. Very well-documented family outings. The three of you had the time of your lives.

You and Eddie took Frodough to the playground. There are photos of you three coming down the slide together, holding the flour sack on the monkey bars, and pushing him together in a baby swing. (Eddie somehow crammed most of his ass into the baby swing and took it for a test drive first, to make sure it was safe enough for little Frodough.) The three of you rode the coin-operated carousel in front of the grocery store. You went to the dollar store and faked a tropical vacation. You went to Lover's Lake and had a family picnic, checkered blanket and all. Frodough even got to share the Dungeon Master's chair with Eddie during a Hellfire Club meeting.

You'd never had this much fun with a school project before. Eddie didn't even complain about having to log every hour of activity. Taking care of that little sack of flour became like second-nature to you both.

And then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, your week with Frodough was over. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little sad about it. You suspected Eddie was feeling it too.

That last day was a somber one. At the end of the day, you carried your sack of flour back into Mrs. Baker's classroom. Most of the other student-parents hadn't bothered to give their flour babies any personality at all. Yours was the only one with googly eyes. You stacked your completed packet on top of the pile, removed the battered Dio shirt that had been pinned around him like a onesie, and placed him with the other naked flour babies on a table by the window. You each patted the flour sack fondly one last time. You took Eddie's hand, wanting to walk away and get this over with.

"What's gonna happen to them?" Eddie asked Mrs. Baker, who was transferring quiz scores to her gradebook.

"The flour?" She looks up to see him nod. "The cheer squad is using it for the bake sale next week." You feel like melting into the floor. Eddie holds your hand tighter, and you share a dismal look.

"What if we want our baby back?" Eddie asks, returning his attention to Mrs. Baker. Your heart soars.

"Kids, it's a sack of flour."

"But it's our sack of flour," you respond stubbornly.

"The girls are picking it up after practice today. Sorry, guys." She closes her gradebook and ducks down to tuck it into her book bag.

He strikes like lightning.

Before you even realize what's happening, Eddie has snatched Frodough and fled from the room with a wild cackle.

"What in the world?" Mrs. Baker looks to you, as if you planned this. You reach into your pocket and pull out a dollar - well above Frodough's retail value - slap it on her desk with a grin, and chase the Eddie-shaped blur through the halls of Hawkins High.

You meet up with him at the van. You both lean against the side, laughing and trying to catch your breath.

"I think you just won the Father of the Year Award," you wheeze.

"What did she say?"

"What in the world?" you mimic. "And then I slapped a dollar on her desk and ran." You both erupt into another fit of laughter.

"Let's get the hell outta here," he says, coming to open your door. You slide in, he hands you Frodough, and you make a hasty getaway.

You soon find yourselves at Lover's Lake. You sit in silence for a few minutes, but eventually, you have to break it.

"What are we gonna do, Eds?"

"What do you mean?"

"We can't carry a sack of flour around for the rest of our lives."

He sighs and leans back into his seat, turning his head to look at you. "Then I guess we give our boy a respectable send-off."

He gets out of the van, comes to your side, and opens the door. He reaches out for Frodough, but you hesitate. "What are you gonna do to him?"

He smiles, reaching for you instead, and pulls you both down. You hug Frodough to your chest, and Eddie hugs you to his.

"You were a great flour mom."

"And you were the best flour dad," you mumble into his chest.

"C'mon," he says with a kiss to your forehead. With an arm around your shoulders, he leads you to the place you had your family picnic. He reaches for Frodough, and you reluctantly give him the flour baby.

Eddie turns Frodough so he's looking at you both with his not-quite-the-same-size googly eyes. "Frodough Baggins Munson, you were a wonderful son. You brought your mom and I so much closer together, and we had a fuckin' blast with you." You elbow him gently. "Sorry. We had a blast with you. We couldn't let you become cupcakes, especially cupcakes that would financially benefit the jockstraps of Hawkins High, so we've brought you here, to a place we know you love. It's time for you to go, but know that we will never forget you. On account of those three rolls of film we're gonna send off to get developed as soon as we're done here. But rest easy, Frodough. We'll see you in another life. Anything to add, Mom?"

"Bye, Frodough. You were a good flour baby. We're gonna miss lugging you around." That's all you have in you.

Eddie unrolls the top of the flour sack. "Ready?" You nod. He spins in a circle, dusting your picnic spot with flour. And more flour. And even more flour. When Eddie finally shakes the last of the flour out of the bag, it looks like he's standing in a snowdrift.

"Uh… so I guess five pounds is a lot of flour." You look at each other and crack up.

"Somebody's gonna come out here before this blows away and call the CDC or something," you laugh, kicking up a cloud with the toe of your shoe.

"Guess we should probably get outta here then," he grins, pulling you into his flour circle. You hold each other in silence for a moment.

"Thanks for this," you say quietly, looking up at him. "I didn't really expect to get that attached."

"Me either," he responds. "But I had fun this week."

"Me too. I don't think I've ever had this much fun with anybody. Especially when groceries are involved."

Eddie snorts.

"How are we gonna look Mrs. Baker in the eye on Monday morning?" you ask, face beginning to burn already at the thought of your upcoming embarrassment.

"Maybe she'll give us extra credit for being the only parents who refused to abandon our flour baby?"

You laughed.

But she did.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

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qqueenofhades · 2 years

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Don't act like this isn't the Democrats fault. They didn't codify Roe when they had the chance, and now they're paying the price.

Hooweeeee. Normally, I just block these kinds of asks out of hand and go on with my day, but you've caught me at the end of two solid days of Rage, and unfortunately for you, I'm not gonna do that. Instead, just to start, I would like to politely ask the following question:

Hello! Have you ever considered the possibility that you may be A Total Fucking Idiot?

Since there are many of us, present company regretfully included, who struggle with history, let's start out with a quick lesson. Roe was handed down in 1973. It took a while to really get evangelicals hot under the collar, but by 1987, in Ronald Reagan's second term, it had definitely happened. To further the Republicans' cherished goal of overturning it, Reagan nominated far-right whackjob Robert Bork to the Supreme Court. The Democrats, led by then-Senator Joe Biden, fought back on a massive scale and defeated the nomination, leading to Anthony Kennedy joining the SC instead of Bork.

In 1992, another abortion-related case reached the Supreme Court: Planned Parenthood v. Casey, wherein Roe was pretty much reaffirmed in its entirety. By 1992, George H.W. Bush had finished one term, generally underwhelmed the public, and was voted out, thus to be replaced by Bill Clinton. In 1994, in Clinton's first midterm election, the Newt Gingrich Republicans took the House and the Strom Thurmond and Bob Dole Republicans took the Senate. This GOP control of at least one branch of Congress remained the case until 2001, when George W. Bush became president. (Also, the GOP Clinton-era Republicans had other things to do, such as the Lewinsky scandal in 1998, back when they still pretended to have moral values and impeached Clinton accordingly). Considering the fact that any attempt to pass a national law to codify Roe was obviously doomed with Dubya in the White House, since he would have vetoed it, and that the Democrats didn't fully control the House, Senate, and Presidency again until 2009, one might feel that formalizing a twice-affirmed decision by the Supreme Court maybe wasn't the top priority. Abortion rights were and are popular (in fact, that's why the three Trumpists on the SC had to lie to the Judiciary Committee about their plans to repeal it), and Obama had other things on his plate. Like, you know, saving the national and global economy from total meltdown after the crisis of 2008, and trying to jam through the Affordable Care Act in the short time he had before 2010, and once more losing the House to the Tea Party. The loss of the Senate followed in 2014. Once again, we didn't get it back until 2021, when the three wingnut justices were already seated on the Court and Trump had run his reign of terror.

Considering those empirical circumstances, the fact that the Democrats have only had control of all three branches of the federal government for two-year periods at MOST and were busy fixing all the other most pressing messes, and that the Republicans have said for decades that this is exactly what they want to do, I am truly gobsmacked (if not surprised) at the sheer number of morons who want to make this, yet again, the Democrats' fault. Apparently the Republicans are just a force of nature who can't really be blamed or actually considered to have agency; it's only ever on the Democrats for Not Doing Enough To Stop Them. Instead, we now have hordes of told-you-so-ers swarming out of the woodwork and acting like this was a five-alarm fire that the Democrats willfully ignored and/or fanned on. That is incredibly moronic on multiple levels, but hey, that kind of seems to be your Brand. That is, when you're not labeling smug inactivity and self-professed moral superiority as the most pure and correct course of action, but again, we all have our talents.

There was no way for the Republicans to overturn Roe without the exact kind of judicial skulduggery, right-wing extremism, and scads of dark money that finally came together in the perfect storm. (Ever hear of Citizens United in 2010, and the way in which hard-right interest groups have been funding this planned takeover of the judiciary for years? Or does that conflict with your predetermined hypothesis?) Apparently Democrats should have Done More to stop Trump from choosing Supreme Court justices (a Very Smart White Man on twitter made the argument that it was actually Senate Democrats' fault for not stopping McConnell on procedural grounds, or.... something). This was after actual Democrats begged the Holier Than Thous to vote for Hillary Clinton in 2016, explicitly because we pointed out that the Supreme Court was in a precarious position with elderly justices and open seats, and the next president would be poised to reshape it for the next generation. You all laughed at us, more or less openly called us a bunch of bootlicking neoliberal traitors, and told us that the Supreme Court didn't matter and we were all delusional. Then you didn't vote. Then Trump won the election by squeaking out wins in a handful of key states. Then.... well, we all know what happened next.

So tell me, Oh Wise Internet Sage. Where, in what Congress, and according to what actual rules of reality, procedure, and priority, should the Democrats have passed a law to codify a popular twice-affirmed Supreme Court decision that was not under serious threat precisely until this confluence of circumstances took place under the Trump presidency? Be specific, and point out exactly how it would have happened. Otherwise, your argument is bad and you should feel bad.

Biden, Harris, Pelosi, Schumer, Warren, Obama, and all the other prominent Democratic leadership and/or congresspeople have already made strong statements within hours of the draft opinion being leaked. Republicans are screaming in unison that whoever leaked it is the actual story, not the content or impact of the decision (literally what McConnell said today on CNN). The DEMOCRATS DO SOMETHING!!! crowd need to, uh, actually say what they're fucking supposed to do now. Instead you blame RBG, you blame HRC, you blame the Democrats, and absolutely everyone and anyone except the actual people responsible for doing this. You may think it's an enlightened and complex stance that reflects the Realities of the World, or whatever. You may think that Joe Manchin doesn't exist (believe me, I wish he fucking didn't) and that Biden can wave a magic wand and overturn SCOTUS. Do they need to do more? YES! MANY OF THEM HAVE EXPLICITLY SAID THEY WILL BE EXPLORING ALL OPTIONS! BUT WE STILL LIVE (FOR THE NEXT FEW MONTHS) IN A DEMOCRACY AND THAT REQUIRES US DOING OUR JOB AND VOTING IN NEW AND BETTER PEOPLE TO HELP THEM!

I'm sick and fucking tired of this pissbaby whining from the exact same people who make us beg and plead for their vote every single election, feel morally justified in withholding it, and have done literally nothing to advance any of the causes they claim to care about. "Hindsight is 20/20" some of you like to point out, but with the expected irony, you miss it completely when it comes to reviewing any of your own (non) actions and any hint of genuine acknowledgment that your apathy and nihilism helped this happen. So. Suck on that, then go step on a rake. If this should knock some sense into you, we can then talk again.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #rant #i'm not gonna take it right now #fair warning

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obsessedtomone · 2 months

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Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 15 - Doll▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤“And to think that all I had to do was take you the way I originally wanted to, huh? Here I thought I’d wait for you to come around,” he exhales and begins sliding your pants down your waist.

“Fuck—Slow down!” you mewl weakly, digging your nails into the rim of your desk and feeling your legs almost buckling under him.

“Like hell I will. I’ve seen your hand now, slut.”◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Very Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ???, Toxic Romance Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Past Child Abuse, Bullying, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) • Eleven • Twelve • Thirteen • Fourteen • Fifteen • Sixteen • Updates every Monday!

Chapter 15 - Doll “Hoooooly fuck! Look at this! Hahaha!” His voice bounced against the walls of the room.

You panic, mentally going through all the options you have in the span of a second.

Unplug the cable to your computer or go for the power button and shut it down.

One of the options being under the desk in the back—and you’re not about to get in dick-sucking position for gamers 101 with him right now—and the latter being hooking your hand over his leg and holding the button pressed before he catches you.

Both options were out of the question, so you pick for option number three, going in to alt+f4 the fuck out of your browser.

As it turns out, your little mental dilemma was completely unnecessary when you realize Shigaraki—as always—is too fucking fast for you, grabbing you by your waist harshly and sitting you down on his lap while promptly restraining your wrists.

“There’s no point closing it. I’ve already skimmed through half of them while you were ignoring me, loser.” He grins, pulling you closer to him and away from the keyboard, while he could still reach and click around. “Don’t squirm too much unless you’re trying to get me hard.”

You think you could die right fucking now and you’d be fine with it.

But then again, weren’t you always?

“Let’s see,” he starts, and you try really hard to get off of him again, unable to bear the fucking shame of what’s to come. “Told you to stop moving, moron. Now pay attention here,” he orders, keeping you close to him. “Oooh, praise kink! You want me to call you my good girl?” Shigaraki coos really close to your ear with a sickly sweet voice and it sets your face on fucking fire, rendering you absolutely speechless.

“Oh my god, you do!” he exclaims, giggling. “What else? Dirty talk, degradation—fucking creampie?! Mmmh, you filthy slut. Should I fill your tight little pussy up with my cum?” he moans obscenely next to you and suddenly you feel way too hot, too fucking embarrased, so you shoot your hand to cover his mouth and wish you could grab the keyboard and beat him to death with it, picturing little bloody keycaps flying all around the room.

Shigaraki wakes you up from your brief coping daydream by licking your palm sloppily in retaliation, immediately grossing you out and making you pull your hand away. You wipe his saliva against his shirt, your body still still going through the after-shocks of repulsion.

When you look at him again, he gives you another one of his half-lidded smirks.

His leg shifts, holding your waist even tighter against his lap and you feel something hard pressing against your ass.

“S-Stop that! Let me go!” you plead, but his arms won’t loosen up.

“Look.” He drags the mouse and highlights a word on your screen. You glance at it and then promptly look the other way, the ugly white paint on the walls of your apartment suddenly being infinitely more interesting. “What does that say? Hm?” He rocks you against him. “Speak, slut.”

“No! Fuck off and let go!” You claw at his hand, scratching and pinching at him to let you go but he doesn’t even flinch.

Instead, he grinds his erection against you again, groaning and nuzzling into your neck—any previous inhibitions about letting you off the hook for now were gone right out of the window.

“My precious little slut is always fucking lying to me,” he says in a sing-song tone, biting the back of your sensitive neck harshly and causing you to whimper. “You fucking freak,” he pants, “Mindbreak? Breeding? You want me to breed you, make you scream on my cock until you can’t even think anymore? Is that it?”

He slides his hand up your back and pushes your shoulder forward and down—hard enough for you to have to bend and grip your desk in order to catch yourself from falling altogether.

“Hahaha,” he laughs darkly, scrolling the website and reading through more of your favorited fucking tags, “Dubcon, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, emotional manipulation—Jesus. Even rape? Holy shit,” he snickers, standing both of you up but keeping you nice and bent for him.

You shudder, making a strangled noise when he thrusts himself against your sex roughly.

“You’re so fucked in the head,” he cackles. “Is that why you provoke me all the fucking time? You want me to get mad? To break you? Make you—ahh, fuck—my own personal cocksleeve?” Shigaraki breathes heavily, bending himself over your back and using one arm around your waist to lift your hips, high enough for him to be perfectly slotted against your backside.

You moaned at the repeated cruel drag of his length against you, the raspy sound of his voice shamefully sending electricity all the way to your clit.

“And to think that all I had to do was take you the way I originally wanted to, huh? Here I thought I’d wait for you to come around,” he exhales and begins sliding your pants down your waist.

“Fuck—Slow down!” you mewl weakly, digging your nails into the rim of your desk and feeling your legs almost buckling under him.

“Like hell I will. I’ve seen your hand now, slut.”

“That doesn’t fucking count! You—You can’t compare fantasy with fucking reality, Shigaraki!” you cry his name out, when you feel him snake his digits below the band of your underwear and sliding two rough fingers against your slit, the pads brushing firmly against your sensitive clit, gliding past it until he reaches your opening and teases it.

He feels the resistance and pushes both of his fingers inside you at once, the sudden stretch feeling really uncomfortable at first. Your back arched in response, hips involuntarily jerking against his hand and he begins lazily fucking his long fingers into your cunt.

“You’re such a fucking liar. Look at how wet you are for me, fuck.” He takes his hand out of your panties, splaying his slick-covered fingers in front of your face and presenting them to you proudly.

Your head turns around, face flustered and you glare at him through glossy eyes as he licks them off, starting all the way from the tips, then pushing them knuckle by knuckle inside of his mouth and making a great show of sucking on them.

Shigaraki’s eyes fluttered closed and he groaned like he’s never tasted anything better before in his life.

And maybe he hasn’t, because to him there was nothing sweeter tasting than victory itself, making you his hard-earned prize.

“What, you wanted some too?” He leans in and whispers huskily, completely drunk on his lust—on you, “Shame, because I don't feel like fucking sharing today.”

Then all of the sudden, his warmth leaves your back and you gasp, immediately feeling yourself missing the contact. You curse at yourself for folding so easily.

He doesn't leave you for long, though, can’t afford to when there’s so much he wants to do to you now.

“Take them off, sit on the chair and spread your legs wide for me,” he commands in a low serious tone, making you feel just how fast your heart was pounding. “I’m going to fucking devour you tonight, slut.”

It briefly crosses your hazy mind to refuse him and run out of the house, never turning back—but you were extremely turned on and… and there’s never been someone so eager to have you the way he does, especially when the electricity between the two of you, among the hatred and the violence, was undeniable.

You, broken enough to let him have his way with you.

Him, fucked up enough to claim you.

It was a line you didn’t want to cross, not with him, not really. But the way your hands had a mind of their own as you reached for the waistband of your pants, sliding them down your thighs while you were watching him palm the outline of his erection through his clothes, told you your answer.

“Hurry the fuck up, before I lose all of my patience and fuck you into the floorboard instead,” he growled, a dark glint in his eyes while he watched you bend over, slowly taking your clothes off like a tease.

And you listen.

You take your pants off in a way it left no room for interpretation on whether or not you wanted this, stumbling back and sitting on your chair, watching his lustful gaze lock in on your hips as you shyly lift your legs up and get into position.

His head was reeling, taking a tentative step forward, watching your reaction before he kneels in front of the chair, grabbing your ankles and rolling you closer to him.

He slides his trembling hands across the surface of your legs, all the way to your waist and hears you gasp when he leans in closer to your heat, the plainest pair of panties covering it with an obvious wet spot in the middle.

“Fuck,” he whispers, intoxicated when he sees your legs trembling in anticipation, his confident streak slightly dampening now that you’re letting him actually have you, submitting to him so naturally. “Such a fucking slut for me, aren’t you?” Shigaraki’s piercing eyes turn to look at yours through dark lashes until his gaze falls on your bitten lip.

“Please, as if you c-could ever get me off,” you challenge and he grins dangerously, feeling warmth spreading inside his chest. He presses his cheek to the cold skin of your thigh and nuzzles it, soft hair tickling you as he peppers you with soft hungry kisses.

You look down at him and feel your mind become hazy, unable to breathe more than shallow breaths, so you slide your hand in his hair and rake your fingers through it, pulling a groan from the depths of his soul, his eyes screwing shut, brows angling downwards, an incredible sight for sore eyes—

Until he fucking bites you.

He bites down on your skin so hard you let out a pained cry, fingers twisting in his white locks, pushing him away but he keeps pressing in until you can’t help but spill hot painful tears, blurring the way his possessive eyes were locked in on yours.

“I-It fucking hurts, please,” you beg, and because it sounds like heaven to his ears, he listens, flattening his tongue and licking the bloody mark he’s left on you, kissing it as if he could nurse it. “W-What the fuck was that for, asshole?” You release the grip on his hair, hooking your other leg atop his shoulder and sniffling when he wraps his arm around it, bringing his face closer to where you wanted it to be.

“A reminder,” Shigaraki states with underlying excitement in his voice. Strong, rough arms pull you closer and your ass partially slides off the seat in the process. He pushes your legs upwards, nodding towards your hands. “Hold them up properly.”

“A reminder,” you repeat, hooking your arms under your thighs and holding yourself up like he’d asked you to, looking away and feeling shame racking through your body as you shrink under his impossibly sinful gaze.

“Tch. Don’t you dare look away from me,” he orders you, low and careful and once again, you listen, swallowing empty and looking back at him.

A deep growl escapes his throat, sitting back on his knees to admire your obedience for him. Your quivering body, teary eyes and a stubborn needy pout, all on display for him to enjoy. Shigaraki leans in and reaches to swipe away at your almost-dried tears with a thumb, bringing it to his mouth and licking it off, watching you with desire and making you pant heavily in anticipation.

“A reminder that you’re mine,” he promises, lowering himself and placing a soft kiss above the waistband of your panties before continuing, “And that I’m in charge now.” He runs his thumb against the already painful wound he’d created and presses his nail into the coppery dent his teeth left behind, making you hiss in pain and your hold falter.

“Keep holding them up,” he warns and you whimper as he goes to kiss and suck in purple marks all over the expanse of your thighs, blatantly ignoring the ache between your legs and your weak moans.

Fucking finally gracing you with some mercy, he hooks his fingers around your panties and slides them off, until they’re only hanging on one ankle. Shigaraki shudders, swallowing hard, now standing and watching you from above like a predator.

You move your hand to cover yourself, but he grabs your wrist and pries it away forcefully. “No you fucking don’t.” He thumbs at your wet slit roughly and you shiver.

After pondering something for a second, he sinks back on his knees and dives right into your cunt, licking a long stripe from your clenching hole to your clit.

You moan brokenly but he doesn’t relent, blunt nails scratching your sides as he eats your pussy sloppily, listening carefully to every noise you make. Your fingers dig into the plastic handle of your seat, free hand finding purchase in his messy white hair once more.

He’s as greedy for your sounds as he seems to enjoy giving, hands sliding to part your lower lips and honing in on the bundle of nerves that seems to make you lose your mind every time he’s flicking his tongue in that particular way.

The barren room echoes with filthy sounds of your cries, his groans and your increasingly wet cunt, muscles in your legs twitching involuntarily and you struggle between keeping a steady position on your chair and giving in to the pleasure.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust, because he dips two of his fingers in and starts finger-fucking you at a brutal pace, one strong arm moving to keep your lower body pinned for him, and judging by the heat pooling in your lower abdomen, you know you won’t last much longer.

His normally rough lips, now softened by your arousal, close around your sensitive clit and it’s him sucking on it roughly, combined with him repeatedly curling both his fingers against your most sensitive spot that does you in. You clench around his fingers hard, locking your thighs around his head and he whimpers against you, fucking you through your orgasm and licking the mess of your climax hungrily.

“Good fucking girl,” he praises when he lifts his mouth with a devilish grin, still rubbing soft circles on you , pumping his fingers lazily and watching you whimper in overstimulation.

“Tongue out,” he commands and you look at him with a half-lidded look. He slips his soaked fingers out of you and smacks your pussy playfully, earning him a moan. “Don’t make me repeat myself, c’mon.”

You whine and open your mouth, tongue peeking out just slightly, when he stands and drapes himself over you, making your heart beat faster.

He places his slick-covered fingers on top of your tongue, pressing down on it for you to open wider, giving you the idea that he wants you to suck on them, but before you can close your lips around them, he spits into your mouth.

“Swallow.” Shigaraki orders and your nose scrunches, but you close your mouth and swallow. “Show me.”

When you do, his face breaks into a creepy smile, sliding his fingers in and forcing you to taste yourself.

“Good, right?” he giggles, voice filled with unrestrained giddiness and you roll your tongue over his fingers, giving him more than he asked for. His jaw falls slack and he stares at the fingers in your mouth, taking them out and leaning in to replace them with his moistened cracked lips instead.

The kiss is sloppy, hungry, wet and messy. Shigaraki wasn’t kissing you, he was devouring you, and every time you pulled away for air, his mouth would follow yours, his hands gripping the handles of your chair and pushing you until the backrest is pressed firmly against the wall where he has you caged in.

You groan into his mouth in complaint and he finally breaks the kiss, your lungs filling with delicious oxygen once again.

When you glance down, you see a string of saliva connecting you two, lips shiny, mixed with both your wetness and his own spit. He looks dazed, eyes clouded as he breathes in deeply. Breathes you in deeply and he finds that it’s not enough, he wants to have you, all of you, all at once.

“I’d love to shove my cock down your throat and fuck your face right about now,” he whispers low, corners of his mouth turning up in a smirk, hand reaching down to rub more circles around your clit and you shudder. “But that’s for next time.”

Next time?

“Look at you. You’re a fucking mess,” he muses, kissing your cheek softly—too softly—and you frown, getting ready to bitch at him.

He sees it and pinches your bundle of nerves harshly making you whine again, “Ah–ah. Don’t give me an attitude now. Come on, get up.” He slides his hand to your hips and squeezes, using his other one to grab your wrist and hoist you out of the chair. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

Your eyes fall on the tent in his pants and you can almost feel him stretching you out with how painfully hard he looked, length lined down his left leg.

Before he could push you along, you reach and run your curious fingers across the bulge, feeling your chest flutter with strange butterflies.

It takes him by surprise and his whole body shakes, knees trembling and he slaps your hand away as he scrambles to hold himself up against the desk, eyes blown wide and breaths coming out heavy.

No fucking way. That sensitive?

You smile deviously and he glares at you.

“D-Don’t fucking do that, I almost—ugh, just move!” he grumbles defensively, grabbing your shoulder, turning you around and shoving you forward.

Fuck, that was hot.

You find yourself wondering again if he’s done this with other people like he seems to have had.

You might’ve thought he was a virgin before, but how could he be with the way he acts? How many men have you met to be confidently inexperienced before? How many of them actually cared to get you off?

Fucking zero, that’s how many.

There wasn’t time to ask, because you suddenly heard the front door slam shut behind the two of you, followed by a violent thud of Taylor’s paper grocery bag spilling against your floor.

Eyes wide, you fumble to pull your shirt down, trying to cover yourself and frantically picking up your clothes. You sober up immediately, realizing you were about to let Shigaraki Tomura fuck you stupid tonight—part of you disappointed not at yourself but… at the prospect of it not happening.

You look at your friend, feeling deeply ashamed and then at him who was already running a hand through his hair, huffing irritatedly at the unwanted interruption.

So fucking close, he thinks. Tomura really wanted to rip your friend’s fucking head off.

“What the fuck do you two think you’re fucking doing?” They stomped forward, absolutely fuming.

“Get the fuck out. Can’t you see we’re busy?” he snaps back, reaching to hook his arm possessively around your waist and pushing your body flush against his own. You smacked at his chest to let you go, cursing him repeatedly, but he wasn’t paying attention, opting to cautiously eye your friend’s presence instead.

“Like hell you are!” Your friend yanks him by the collar of his shirt and pries him away from you. “Think I forgot the shit you pulled at the party, creep?!”

Anger flashes across his face and he’s not beyond beating the fuck out of your friend for so much as daring to touch him—but he knew that doing it would set things back with you.

Tomura really fucking liked the new stage of this relationship he’s unlocked with you, and he wasn’t going to let his temper ruin it for him this time.

You however were none the wiser.

So you cut right in the fucking middle when Taylor decided to hit him, the only person ending up getting slapped by unnecessarily expensive acrylics being you.

“Ow—fuck!” You glare at your friend, who looked absolutely mortified. Shigaraki scrambles to assess the damage and your friend is already tearing up and apologizing, both of them immediately crowding you.

“Get. Out. Both of you. Now,” you whisper angrily, prompting them to give each other a death stare. “I want to be alone, so—fucking please.”

To your surprise, they both (very reluctantly) back off.

Shigaraki, who looked defeated, made an odd sound of disapproval, grabbed his shit and angrily stormed out first.

Taylor on the other hand lingered, trying to pry, to apologize, to ask why you didn’t answer their texts all week, but you were only able to snap back and make them cry harder.

When everyone finally left you the fuck alone, you began breaking down, absolutely burnt out by this horrible series of events happening in your life.

You throw yourself on your bed, and realize you’re still able to smell his soft lingering scent against your bedding. And if that wasn’t bad enough, you also realize he forgot his fucking hoodie at your place.

Why the fuck were you about to let Shigaraki have his way with you earlier?

Why did you listen to him? Were you that fucking sexually deprived to let another psycho fuck you?

They were questions you could not fucking answer, not when you know that you’re falling right into his trap.

So you pull his hoodie over your head and inhale deeply into the collar.

Then you proceed to replay the earlier events in your head and do something you swear you’ll take to the grave with you. ───────── The following days, including your whole weekend, were completely Shigaraki-free. That meant you got to study your ass off for your exam week and you didn’t have to deal with him at all after the incident.

You didn’t speak to Taylor either, and Taylor avoided you like the fucking plague.

It was fair in a way that you didn’t like to admit.

You deserved it. You were a shit friend. So now you’re studying in the main cafeteria at lunchtime, when he casually slips into the seat next to yours with a tray of food in his hands.

He pushes a box of juice to you and you stare at it.

“Hey,” he rasped, dragging his chair to be as close to yours as humanly possible, seemingly nothing changing in his Shigaraki branded demeanor during the few days that he went MIA.

You clicked your tongue but didn’t reply otherwise, deciding to completely ignore him instead.

So he does what you should’ve expected he’d do and grabs the spoon on his tray, angling it perfectly in your direction and flicking a disgusting wet fucking pea at your face.

It hits you, falling on your rented notebook and fucking stains it.

“HEY! I have an exam in an hour and this is a fucking rental! Cut it out, dickhead!” you snap at him, wiping your face with a grimace but he only smiles.

“There we go! Was worried you forgot how to speak.”

“My god, you’re seriously the worst fucking asshole on this planet, I swear.” You snarl when you look at him.

“So they say.” His lips curve upwards.

Shigaraki lets you be for a minute and starts eating his lunch, but notices—because he’s always observing you—how deep the circles around your eyes are, figuring you haven’t been able to sleep much lately.

“You look like a zombie. Did’ya miss me so much you couldn’t even fall asleep?” he asks in an upbeat tone, elbowing your side and making you mess up the words you were writing. Then he snorts at the way you clutched your pencil tighter in irritation.

“Drop it,” you hiss, feeling more on edge than usual.

None of the information you’re forcing yourself to fucking remember is sticking to your brain. This never happened before and it really, really unnerved you. You’re not allowed to slack off. You can’t afford to slack off.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

“What the fuck is wrong with you today?” He leans into you, becoming genuinely concerned. You snap your head at him, looking livid.

Feeling already fed up, you grab your stuff hastily and stand up.

He, of course, has none of your fucking bullshit and forcefully grabs your arm, pulling you back down.

“Sit. I won’t ask twice,” he warns coldly, clenching his jaw.

The look you gave him was one of defeat, so you crumple your study notes and then aggressively drop your bag on the table, half of its contents landing on the floor together with the box of juice he shared with you.

Your lips started quivering and you rubbed at your eyes.

“The fuck you so pissy for? Are you on your period or something?”

You deliberately ignore him again and he grunts, choosing to grab you by the roots of your hair really hard and making you gasp. “Fucking try ignoring me again, bitch,” he spits at you, eyes full of contempt and feeling betrayed that you reverted back to treating him like shit.

There were a lot of students looking at you whenever you were together, because Shigaraki had a reputation—and by extension, so did you.

But you felt that him being openly violent with you right now and in public of all places, pushed you too fucking far in this moment.

Academic stress.

Mind games.

Fighting with your best friend.

Feeling lonely.

Wanting to die.

Wanting to die so bad it suffocated you. The thread snaps and the tower of your sorrows finally topples over, crashing over the entirety of your soul, the acid raindrops of all the emotions you’ve been suppressing this entire time raining on your consciousness until all you could feel was nothing. You can’t focus on your studies.

Can’t handle their attention.

Can’t do this anymore.

So maybe you should—

Just obey. ”You don’t have to think about anything else other than how to please me, bunny. Do you understand me?”

SPANK— “Yes, Sir.”

He lets go of your hair almost immediately, red eyes widening and you lower your gaze like you’ve been taught to do. “The fuck did you say to me?”

“My apologies, Sir,” you reply robotically. “Would you prefer I called you Master or Daddy instead, Sir?” Tomura’s brain short-circuited. Was this another one of your weird fucking games?

He glared into your eyes and could only find a dull submissive look in return.

“What is wrong with you?” He frowns, voice wavering.

“I’m extremely sorry, I do not understand the question, Sir. Could you please explain?”

He runs a hand over his face and scrunches his eyes shut.

“What is this—What the fuck are you doing right now?” He uses his pointing finger and circles it at you.

You just stare at the floor.

“Answer me, moron.”

“My apologies, Sir.”

“Stop calling me that. Explain what’s going on.”

“I’m just your dumb slutty bunny, Sir. I’m yours to have, yours to breed, yours to break,” you say and he almost has a fucking brain aneurysm at how willingly you’re humiliating yourself.

Did you seriously completely fucking break—right here? Like this? In the middle of the fucking cafeteria?

Not in the bedroom where he’d be making you scream his name until your throat was sore and you couldn’t speak anymore? Not by you provoking him and him having to put you in your place, but because of him getting annoyed with you once today?

It was an opportunity too good to pass up.

Tomura’s grin spread wide, resolving to immediately test this newfound control over you, feeling excitement bubbling in his gut at the prospect of you finally becoming an ideal toy, accepting him fully.

How far would you go, he wondered.

“Get on your knees and under the table. Now,” he barked at you—and to his surprise, there really was no bratty remark, no comeback, no hesitation.

You stood up, got on your knees and slipped under the cafeteria table, keeling all over the disgusting floor and still avoiding his gaze submissively.

“Look at me.” Shigaraki snarled and you obeyed, eyes distant and devoid of any expression.

The students were catching on, whispering in the background. You waited patiently for his next command, blankly looking up at him through your lashes.

“Tch. Give me your hand.” And you did, without any resemblance of your usual resistance.

He grabbed it for you and pressed it flat against his semi-hardening cock. “Now go ahead and fucking use it. Show them what a dumb bitch you are,” he orders, looking down at you coldly. You do as he says and start stroking it the way you were taught to—not the way you were with him that evening, eager and curious, but trained, expertly wrapping your digits around the rising tent in his pants and stroking against the fabric. It wasn’t the same.

It did fucking nothing for him.

There was no trace of the sparks he felt in the pit of his stomach every other time he’s made you squirm before. Every other time you made him squirm.

Instead, he felt hollow. “So fucking useless,” he hisses, covering your hand with his own and pressing it harder, rocking his hips against your palm and feeling incredibly frustrated when it only seemed to have the opposite effect on him.

It pissed him off how you weren’t worried about catching a sex offender case anymore. It also pissed him off that he can’t even enjoy this half-assed victory.

You were looking at him in a daze, but not the daze that betrayed how much you wanted him to fuck you—how much you wanted him in the hallway when you had him pinned under you. How your eyes sparked with flickers of desire he saw in-between your apprehension or even fear, at the party. How wet you were last week at your place, bent over your desk and soaking just for him. How he almost got to feel the warm fluttery insides of your cunt and finally made you his.

God were you hot, every single time.

Instead, you were now staring through him and mindlessly following dumb orders like a brain dead fucking sex doll. He somehow used a cheat code to break you like he’d always fantasized to in the beginning.

But isn’t this exactly what he wanted?

Is it fucking not?

Wouldn’t it be great for you to leave every decision in your life to him?

So then—

SO THEN WHY THE FUCK WAS HE FEELING THIS WAY?

Like he’s made a huge fucking mistake. Again. Tomura swallowed hard, unable to keep the inner turmoil at bay. His shoulders became tense, his free hand scratching red angry lines against the scarred skin of his neck.

“Fuck!” He slapped your hand away and you just stared back. “STOP looking at me like that, dirty fucking whore!” he yelled at your face, voice cracking. You look down at his feet again. “Apologies, Master. Please feel free to punish—”

“NO! FUCK! Don’t EVER fucking call me that again!” He grabs you by your arm before you could finish your stupid fucking sentence, roughly pulling you off the filthy floor and knocking the chair out of the way for you.

He takes your bag and chaotically shoves all of your things inside of it, together with the stuff that spilled on the floor earlier.

Tomura throws it over his shoulder along with his own and shoves you forward. “Walk.”

Useless NPCs gathered around for the theatrics, but he was having none of it.

“If any of this comes out, I’ll fucking kill every—single—one—of you. Am I clear?” He turns around and barks at the circle of idiots that surrounded the two of you, gawking and recording the scene like they usually did whenever Shigaraki publicly did something unhinged to someone on campus.

The only difference was, that this is the first time he’d ever shut it down, taking everyone in question by surprise.

“Am I FUCKING clear?!” his voice booms again, as he’s grabbing one of the chairs in a fit of rage and smashes it repeatedly against the floor, plastic parts flying in all directions from the impact and throwing whatever chunk was left of it at a random cluster of individuals.

He then fixed a piercing gaze at the room, waiting expectantly while breathing erratically.

Some of them were frozen and nodded quickly but most had already hurried off. Fuck.

Everything was so fucking itchy and all of it was your fucking fault.

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fuck-customers · 8 months

Note

This is less “fuck customers” and more “why are you so fucking stupid?”

I work at an 18+ store for certain substances and this dude comes in, yells “(substance) is bad for you!” Mind you he looks definitely under 18. I presume he’s joking so I snap back “you’re like 13.” And he goes “exactly.” And leaves.

Five minutes goes by. He returns with a fake ID asking if it looks real and if I think it will work. “Obviously not on you cuz I told you but-“

I tell him no. Number one, it’s illegal to have a fake ID and be under 18 in the store he’s in. Number 2, the ID says he’s born in 1985 (not sure how long this ask might sit in your box but for context the 18-year limit rn is 2005, so the ID claims he’s in his 30s) and the guy looks like he barely got his learners. Also he looks nothing like the picture. And number three, how stupid do you have to be to admit to having a fake ID and asking a complete stranger if they think it’ll work.

Finally, he gets in an argument with another customer that basically tells him to leave the store and he tells the other customer to go fuck himself.

This other customer is a regular.

This regular customer is an off-duty cop.

Boy I hope you get in so much legal trouble, you moron.

the ID says he’s born in 1985 (not sure how long this ask might sit in your box but for context the 18-year limit rn is 2005, so the ID claims he’s in his 30s)

Thanks for making me feel old.

Ugh... I'm gonna be 50 this year. Like next month. Get those pet pics ready.

-Rodney

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ebongawk · 2 months

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oooh hellcheer hc is that eddie goes into fully nurse mode whenever chrissy’s sick. she has a cold? he’s fussing over her, making soup from scratch thank you very much bc he’s actually a great cook. cramps? he buys out her favorite chocolate from the corner store, he’s got three different types of heat packs ready, he’ll massage her belly for hours if that’s what it takes to make her feel better

Here's the thing: Chrissy was never home when Eddie got out of the studio on Wednesdays.

Wednesdays were their short days. The band's self-proclaimed 'recharge' days. The midweek break they all pretended to need that they'd written into their contracts so the fucking producer wouldn't throw a fit when Jeff dipped out at eleven to go meet his girlfriend at the train station, because Marie was in Boston Saturday night through Wednesday morning for work.

Eddie usually wandered in after a fast food lunch and a grocery run around one o'clock. Chrissy wasn't even off most days until four. So when he walked in the front door and was greeted with the curdling scream of horror queen Janet Leigh on the tube?

Yeah, Eddie about had a heart attack. Like full-on hand-over-the-heart terror.

"Sorry," Chrissy croaked from the couch as she frantically turned the volume of her vintage horror flick down. Psycho. Classic. Eddie hadn't even noticed her, she was so bundled up in blankets. A Chrissy burrito that could've passed for a rumpled throw blanket. "Sorry, sorry. You came in at the worst part."

Shit, she sounded awful.

"That's my specialty," Eddie breathed, dropping the excess number of grocery bags in the foyer and tripping over his own feet to make it to her side. "What's up, buttercup? How come you're home so early?"

Shit, she looked awful. All curled up and shivering despite the throw around her shoulders and the duvet she'd dragged in from their bedroom. Eddie automatically put a hand on her forehead, hissing at the burn beneath his palm.

"Think I caught the bug that's been going around on the publishing floor," Chrissy said, covering her mouth with the throw as she talked. Trying to breathe on him as little as possible. But her sinuses were so full, he doubted she could take in any air from her nose. "Editors were next, I knew it, but everyone insisted it'd stay quarantined upstairs."

"Morons," Eddie huffed, eyes raking over her face. Her blotchy, feverish cheeks; her bloodshot eyes ringed in the purple bruises of exhaustion. Her lips were dry, and Eddie sighed, hopping up and pressing a kiss to her forehead that she protested.

"You're gonna get infected," she grumbled. Eddie just shrugged, more firmly wrapping her up in her blankets.

"Did you take anything?"

"Grabbed some cold medicine from the pharmacy that's next to the office," she said, still covering her mouth. Exhaling a couple of rough coughs into the fabric. "Probably should've eaten something, but nothing sounds good."

Her sentences were choppy and slurred, which was how Eddie knew that this was serious. Having majored in English at BU, Chrissy's articulation refined to a fucking knife's point over the years. Ready to stab anyone who looked at her with a modicum of doubt when she explained what she did for a living.

His poor little Supervising Editor.

"Alright," Eddie said, hopping to his feet and pressing another kiss to her crown – this one not quite as protested as the first – before he rounded the couch to collect the grocery haul he'd bought that was entirely inadequate for a sick Chrissy. "Lemme get some water in the kettle, yeah? I'll make you some ginger tea and run to the bodega for soup supplies."

"Love, really, I'm fine––"

"Don't you I'm fine me, Cunningham," he called from the kitchen. Even though her last name had been Munson for damn near five years now. He loved the dopey little smile she still got when he reprimanded her with her maiden name. The eye roll. The huff of, That's Munson to you, Mister.

The huff never came this time. She was too tired to argue, he knew.

He started some prep work for what they had on hand while the water heated up. Mincing up a metric fuckton of garlic, grabbing some chicken breast from the fridge, grating most of a knob of ginger. They had some frozen chicken wing tips, but Eddie wasn't sure he had the time or patience to make broth from scratch. He mentally added store bought shit to his list, along with spinach and carrots.

Once her tea was ready, Eddie departed after stealing another kiss – this one to her cheek, which she yelled at him for as well as she was able and which he laughed at when her voice broke.

Another forty-five minutes later, after hauling ass to the store and back, Eddie had soup simmering on the stove, orange juice in the fridge, and three other types of medicine lined up along the coffee table to be taken after she'd eaten.

"I should go to the bedroom," Chrissy sighed as Eddie exchanged her empty mug of tea for a glass of juice. "Give you veg space so I don't get you sick."

Eddie scoffed. He'd grabbed The Two Towers from their nightstand, carefully depositing it on the arm of the couch before gently easing Chrissy's juice from her hands. He crouched down in front of her, leveling her with as withering a stare as he could muster around the worry he could feel lining his face.

"What kind of husband do you think I am, sweetness? To abandon his queen in her most desperate times of need?" She rolled her eyes, cheeks turned up in a slight smile. Eddie grinned, reaching up to pinch her cheek. Broadening her smile as much as she was able. "My fair lady needs her noble knight's assistance now more than ever! I ain't just gonna abandon you to squalor, baby. You know better than that."

She made a little noise of distress, and Eddie knew it was because she was terrified of getting him sick. Even though he played backup to Jeff, fucking his vocals could fuck the whole timeline for their next album.

He couldn't have given less of a fuck.

Tucking the blanket more firmly around her, Eddie carefully wedged his arms under her slight body, hoisting her up with a cracked little squeal from her raw throat before settling himself lengthwise on the couch, Chrissy in his lap.

"Eddie––"

"Shh, baby," he said, grabbing the book behind him and opening up to the bookmark. Picking up where they'd left off the last time he lulled her to sleep, just the night before, when she'd still been perfectly healthy. Harboring this bit of sick down deep enough that her body was still attempting to fight it off.

His voice, she'd told him once, was her favorite lullaby.

"So it was," he began to read, "that in the light of a fair morning, King Theoden and Gandalf the White Rider met again on green grass beside the Deeping-stream."

An hour later, Chrissy was out like a light. Breathing deeply through her mouth, with a little dribble of drool spilling onto his shirt and making him chuckle. He leaned down, kissing her hair and brushing it back over her ear.

"My poor little peach," he murmured, pressing the words into her scalp. The scent of ginger and garlic wafted through the air, and Eddie knew he should extricate himself from her embrace. Slip into the kitchen and turn the stove off.

But Chrissy let out this scratchy little snore, and Eddie figured he could give her another half hour.

"Love you, sweet," he said. And by the way she hummed in her slumber, snuggling even closer against his chest until her ear was pressed right up against her heart, Eddie thought, fuck, maybe she'd heard him.

(inspo ask)

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #chrissy x eddie #my writing #hellcheer drabble #sickness #I feel it tho bc I've been battling a stupid cold all week #where the heck is my Eddie to make me soup and cuddle me?#cunninghamchrissie

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chronically-ghosted · 4 months

Text

✨ happy new year! ✨

it's not yet 2024 where i am but it is where my love @ravensmadreads is, so happy new year already enjoying january 1st!

i usually overthink around my birthday as i march towards death but you lovely people have really made me think about 2023 as it comes to a close. i feel weird talking about myself (unless im drunk and we haven't started drinking yet so hold onto your butts for that possibility), so i'm just going to say this:

You all changed my life.

there, that's it. if you read this and you think it doesn't mean you, yes it does. not a day goes by where this place, this community does not bring me joy and warmth. i hope you get that job you wanted, or you get that fur baby adoption you've been hoping for, or you get accepted to that school you wanted to, or you graduate with all the honors, or you create the thing you've always wanted to, or you get the baby you've been hoping for, or the person who makes you heart flip says i love you. i'm nervous about next year because it truly feels like a year where anything can happen 🤍

now to the fandom stuff:

i've never done a fic rec list because inevitably, i'm a fucking moron and i leave someone out. i know it hurts when i'm left out of a fic rec list so i never want to do that to anyone here. what follows is a list of fics that spoke specifically to me. the old saying goes is that you don't write fanfic for yourself, you write it for the five freaks on discord that can't write coherent sentences after you publish -- and it's true. fanfic isn't about numbers -- i would much rather write for my five freaks on my discord (where my work has deep, emotional impact for them) than try to write for a large crowd that i will never ever manage to please all at once.

my wish for you in 2024 you all find your freaks. and i hope i'm one of them.

side note: there are a couple fics not on the list because i wanted to highlight fics that i didn't see much on other end of the year rec lists. but @iamskyereads 's Compulsion should be read in graduate programs and @whatsnewalycat already knows i'm going to name my first born child after her for her Psychomanteum. yall rock my goddamn world.

so without further adieu . . . these are the fics i read this year that tickled me pink.

God is a Woman by @wheresarizona the way arizona writes max is entirely unique. i love her descriptions of how cold he is and how he doesn't breathe. i read this and had to rethink everything i ever wrote for max

the impaler by @kiwisbell the dracula x johnathan x mina vibes in this are spectacular. this is a pairing i never thought i'd see much less enjoy so thoroughly. why is older tim being seduced by a younger max so hot??

night one by @haylzcyon this is one of the first fics i read by hayley and she pretty much set the standard for all marcus pike fics moving forward. his endless patience, his flirty attitude, how he see things the reader won't admit, and then the sleeping bag -- god i'd read a thousand more fics about this dymanic

blood & tinsel by @morallyinept so if i tried to list all of my favorite jett fics, we'd be here all night. but this one stands out to me because it's so well built. the description of the vampire "trance" or "glamor" or "compulsion" without using any of those words is INCREDIBLE. plus max is face-meltingly hot in this.

the world turned on its side by @idolatrybarbie this was a surprise that came outta nowhere, but it hit me like a fucking train. bea weaves a story that sticks with you and creates a frankie that makes my entire soul sing.

heat by @wordywarriorwrites okay, listen. the beauty of fanfic is that you can have insane, animalistic smut AND literary level writing. this fic is both. i have yet to come across another frankie abo fic that makes the dynamic more than a reason for the blorbos to fuck like animals. it's so well done, there's so much love here.

in fiction @sin-djarin yall know dieter is my boy so i am VERY particular about how he is written in fic. everyone's interpretation is valid, but for dieter fics to resonate with me, there has to be this special blend of humor, kindness, dorkiness, and a sexiness you didn't expect. this fic is all of that and more.

reminiscence by @projectionistwrites this was one of the first joel fics i read and there's something about it that just . . . feels right, feels natural to Joel. there's a raw honesty to both joel and the reader that just sunk into my chest. the back and forth over the drink, the SMUT, everything is just this beautiful snapshot of two lonely people in the apocalypse.

oct' 19 x ghosts by @trulybetty another author that if i tried to choose a favorite, i simply couldn't. betty created a lovely, lovely world with this one (and the rest of the prompts for this one and her december prompts). i love fics that add a new layer to dieter and this one opened him up in a way that made him glow!

renegade by @eupheme my personal favorite brand of joel is one that comes alive between reader's thighs. more boulder than human until you bring something to the surface. and this totally captures that. im a sucker for a good qz fuck-that-verges-on-love and i adore everything about it.

Dominica by @ohforficsake if you ever need proof that notes do not reflect the quality of a fic, look no further. the language, the mastery of tension, and beauty of these descriptions are one two punches that knock me on the ass. genuinely one of my favorite frankie fics of all time.

wanna bet? by @write-and-buried i debated putting this or her celestial navigation fic on this list, but this one just tickles me. i love it when authors throw in a confident, sex-obsessed dieter now and again and this makes me howl. and the DEBAUCHERY of the statue oh my god!

give it to me @sp00kymulderr okay now to be fair, this review is entirely biased. i genuinely love gideon and all that they bring to this fandom. plus, they let me scream about dieter and then sends me dieter pictures that make me scream even louder. this fic is SO important to me. dieter here is everything i need and want: hesitant, anxious, but so madly in love. if i could wake up in one single fic every day, it'd be this one.

stepwise by @the-scandalorian i joined this fandom through din and this has been, and always will be, one of my top favorites. the evolution of din from being touch averse to LUSTING after it, it kills me. it's a oneshot but so much is accomplished in such a short time. the writing here is simply superb.

salvatore by @devilmademewriteit i came for the premise, stayed for the smut, and continued for the banter. i go back to this one all the time for inspiration with my own writing and then i get sucked in and read the whole thing through -- twice. javi drives me absolutely wild in this.

a whole new can of worms by @hier--soir i accidentally read this out of order initially, but this was just reason for me to reread it from start to finish. fwb!joel can be really hit or miss for me, and primarily because this fic sets the standard. this feels like a real joel, a joel that has lost and found loved ones all through out his life and now in jackson, he can finally relearn what it means to be a lover. so good, so fun with the banter -- and the friggin' greenhouse scene -- woof!

telltale heart @astroboots i am a SUCKER for 'frankie fixes his life' fics and this is one of the best. there are consequences for his choices in colombia, one that almost has him lose his family, and the woman he loves. this a real, genuine struggle for two people to overcome a seemingly impossible challenge in their marriage. you know the phrase, love conquers all? yeah this is that fic.

brand you in the way it counts by @charnelhouse charnel was one of the first authors i read for the pedroverse -- and i mean i READ her. i read every single one of her fics at least twice and this one always sends me over the edge. it's such an inspiration to my own writing and i keep going back to her whole body of work to be reminded i can always improve my own writing

west by @radiowallet when people want to know why fanfic matters, i want to show them this fic. it is achingly beautiful and written with a loving and gentle hand. joel is a messy, broken man but still capable, still good, still wanting to find love in this and i adore everything about this. Oneshots can be more devastating than multichapters because they end and this is one of them that drags me back to it constantly.

And to that weird little dude out of Chile who has no idea how much light he brings to the world…

Much love, Taylor 🤍

#the very last #taylor rambles #of 2023 #yall lucked out

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softlyspector · 1 year

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So maybe prompt from the injury list number 4 and dialogue number 8 and 14. With Marc Spector and mercenaryfem!reader in which he obviously has repressed feelings for her because he’s a grown ass man incapable of expressing and understanding his own emotions 😮‍💨

4. Trying to hide your injury from them, but failing miserably once you faint right in front of them. + 8. "You moron... Why are you so careless!?" & 14. "I... thought I lost you..."

warnings: blood, injuries, thoughts of death

Things, they have a particular way of going from bad to worse to what the fuck just happened in the span of about five seconds flat.

One minute, you're poised on a rooftop with Spector, a target lined up in the scope of your rifle, the next you're bleeding out in a dirty alleyway.

You only half remember the hard line of Marc's arm knocking you to the ground, the explosion, the fight that led from roof to ground, to chase, to realizing you were out numbered on this little mission.

But you and Spector kind of have a way about these things. You always take the jobs that are likely to kill you, that will leave you outnumbered and outgunned.

You’re both a little fucked up, that you know. But it works well, it works in your favor.

Those dark, sad eyes of his were like home to you, even if what you saw in them was never spoken out loud, never given voice. Even if he sometimes kissed you in the dark, and wouldn’t meet your gaze in the light.

Even if you and Marc bickered and bottled up feelings and never said what you meant, you worked well together. You were good partners. Like your self-destructive natures cancelled out in each others presence, both dedicated to making sure the other made it out alive.

Somehow, it always works out.

Usually, anyhow.

This time though, might be different.

You touch your side when you wake in the alley, unsure of how you got there. A dark red coats your fingers, sticky and brackish in the low light.

A dog barks in the distance, the night still and silent once again. You can't hear out of one ear, and when you raise your arm, something pops, protests the movement.

There's a furious pounding in your head and you can't think about what just happened too hard without your vision going crossed, without feeling like you might vomit or pass out.

"Fuck," you stare at the blood on your hands, the way it's dripping out of you and onto the paving stones.

You glance up and around, only the dark and a distant haloing streetlight there to greet you, the image of it doubling and tripling the longer you look. A surge of panic races up your spine, fear, because Spector isn't here with you and you can't remember the last time you saw him.

The roof.

But not after that.

Fuck.

You suck in a hard breath, trying not to think the worst, trying to breathe around the pain.

Safe house.

If you can make it to the safe house, you’ll know for sure. That's where you'd agreed to meet if something went wrong. That’s where he’ll be, if he’s alive.

With a monumental effort, you haul yourself up, ripping off your outer jacket to shove against the hole weeping blood in your side.

Marc wouldn't have left you, had he known where you were.

Your best chance at finding him, lay with the safe house.

It doesn't occur to you that you're probably dying, all that matters is finding out what happened to your stupid ass partner.

Making sure his dumbass stayed alive because he certainly wasn’t going to do it.

Stupid.

Yes, he's stupid.

A flash of the fight on the street comes back to you, the determination in his voice when he told you to go, that he'd give you the chance to get away. His voice had changed, a strange lilt in his accent, a hardness that brooked no argument.

Out of ammo, already hit, you'd gone.

The image fades away, replaced by anger and the picture of Spector's stupid, concerned face, the touch of his thumb against the pain in your temple.

You raise your hand, touch that spot too.

You can't remember if you fell, or if someone hit you.

Doesn't matter, because the safe house is blissfully close. It's within reach, and there you'll either find your partner or you'll find out that they got him too.

There would be spare ammo, if it came to that.

The entrance to the house is down a couple of concrete stairs, a thick door at the bottom that you struggle to remember the correct way to open.

But once it swings open and shut, the gloom of the place is revealed. Marc sits on a low cot, sewing closed a wound in his arm in the semi-darkness.

His head jerks up at the sound of the door closing, hand going to his side before he breathes out your name.

"Didn't even wait for me, huh," you sway on the spot, relief flooding you at the sight of him mostly unharmed. "I coulda done that for you."

Marc just grits his teeth and tears off the excess thread of the sutured wound. "Are you hurt?" He asks gruffly, not looking at you, fiddling with the first aid kit by his side.

You frown but don't answer.

"I mean...fuck! Why can't you ever just do what I say? Why didn't you come back here first?" Worry makes him wild, you think, makes him irrational. If you could have been here, if you’d been able you would have been.

He knows that, but this is easier.

A weird lump rises up in your throat, and you press the jacket harder to your side. "Would've," you say, trying not to slur your words. "Not really sure what happened. Not really sure I'm gonna make it. Wanted to see that you'd made it back. Needed to make sure your dumbass was still alive.”

Marc is staring at you when you manage to lift your gaze from the ground. "What?"

"Nothin'. Glad you're okay."

His eyes drift down to the floor, where blood has stained the carpet beneath your feet. "Are you fucking hit?" He grumbles, lurching to his feet.

"No," you sway again, your vision blurring by the second. "No, I just need to sit down."

Marc's jaw ticks as he strides toward you. He's stained in blood too, his eyes wild and blown out, like he's confused by everything too, like he hardly knows where he is or who he is.

He reaches you and jerks your feeble hands away from your torso, your blood crusted jacket falling to the floor. The color drains from his face and you lift a shaking hand to touch his wrist.

Marc jerks out of your hold, and that's the last thing you know, the floor rising up at you rapidly before your vision goes black.

Marc is muttering next to you, his voice a low grumble, and you find it odd, because Marc never talks.

He's a quiet person, never says more than he needs to, with the lockbox of himself tightened up inside his chest so securely you aren't sure it'll ever be breached.

"Fucking careless," he's saying. "What the fuck am I supposed to do if you..."

You tighten your hand on his when you realize his fingers are around yours.

His breath catches and you aren't able to meet his eyes, to see what might be lodged in his gaze. You look down at the bandage plastered to your side. “What?” You ask, “what the fuck are you supposed to do if what?”

Marc meets your eyes. “If you fucking died. What am I supposed to do if you die?” He grips your hand hard, his eyes like flint. “I thought I lost you. The blood. You lost so much-,”

His voice shakes to a stop.

“Don’t have to worry about that,” you say. “As long as you’re here, I’m here.” Your voice is thin and you don’t say it feels like there’s still a chance, like you’re on the ropes and it could go either way.

Marc dips his head, presses your hand to his forehead. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“It’s what we do.”

He’s silent for a long time, holding your hand to his skin. “Yeah,” he mutters eventually. “It is.”

Marc lowers your hand, presses a kiss to your blood sticky lips. You feel the ghost of his breath across your lips, the grip of his fingers against your jaw, sliding over the bandage on your temple, not letting you look away from him as he presses in close to you, beside you on that small cot.

Your head finds his chest. “Don’t fall asleep,” he rumbles. “You have a concussion.”

You nod, listen to his heart, and decide if things take a turn for the worse, it won’t be such a bad way to go. But only if Marc doesn’t insist on following you.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector drabble #marc spector x you #moon knight drabble

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