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luvring · 1 year

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THEIR REACTION TO YOU DRESSING UP

gn!reader | suggestive, mild swearing.

matsukawa, atsumu, hinata, kuroo, suna, osamu, sakusa, iwaizumi, tsukishima

MATSUKAWA’s sprawled on the couch as he waits for you to show him the new outfit you bought. you had excitedly texted him before coming home, hiding the contents of your bag as you ran to change. it’s been a few minutes when he teasingly calls out, “you okay in there, babe? need help?” “no, actually i don’t, issei,” you reply, walking in. issei does a double take, mouth dropping a little. “goddamn.” the speed he gets up is almost comical. you do a slow turn, smoothing out the fabric that seems to hug you in the most perfect way. “i don’t know when i’m gonna wear this, but it’s really nice, right?” “really fuckin' nice,” he agrees, grinning. “respectfully and in love with you, i humbly ask, do you want to kiss and or make out with me right now?”

ATSUMU freezes when you walk into the bedroom. you do a quick spin and smile. “what do you think?” his eyes are wide, gaze fixated on you. “am i dead? are you an angel here to take me away?” he finally asks. you snort and make your way over, reaching to fix the collar of his shirt. “i’m gonna take that as a ‘you look good, babe,’ then.” “just good? baby, i think i’m sweating. maybe cryin’ a little,” he continues, half-joking. “‘tsumu—” atsumu shakes his head. “uh-uh, don’t say my name, i might explode.” you laugh at your boyfriend, face warm from his praise; his own flustered state keeps him from noticing yours. he shakes his head again, as if to get out of a haze. “you know what, let’s go. yeah, let’s go now before i keep you all t’myself. we’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”

HINATA spits out his drink and chokes a little. “oh my–oh my, god, sorry, i—” “shoyo?” you speed over, concerned but also trying not to laugh. “are you okay?” “huh? yeah? i’m so fine,” he says unconvincingly. his face is flushed when he looks at you, whether from the choking, embarrassment, or your outfit, you’re not too sure. then, as if he wasn’t choking a few seconds earlier, he starts showering you in compliments. “anyways, you look great, babe. like, like it really screams 'you,' you know? i bet everyone’s gonna be jealous of me.” “oh really? of you?” shoyo tilts his head, as if you asked a silly question. “well, yeah? 'cause you look this good and i get to date you.”

KUROO almost drops his keys walking through the front door. “tetsu, you’re back early.” “god, please don’t tell me i forgot about a super important event tonight.” he sounds both panicked and in awe, mind in shambles at the sight of you. you open your mouth to speak, but tetsuro's faster. “wait, don’t tell me,”—he paces toward you—“before i die, i want you to know you look incredible, and i’ll gladly be your poorly-dressed accessory for the night.” there’s a joking strain to his voice, and he sniffs before pressing his cheek to your head. “tetsu.” you laugh and pat his back. “there’s nothing happening, i just bought a new outfit and wanted to try it on.” he lets out a relieved noise between a sigh and groan then moves to look at you, now able to fully appreciate the sight. “thank god. i’m going to count that as the second win of the night then, 'cause seriously, you look so good right now.”

SUNA snakes his arm around your waist and kisses your temple. “hi, babe.” “rin! when did you get here?” “a couple of minutes ago. beelined for you after ‘tsumu shoved a drink in my hand.” you laugh and he smiles before finally registering what you’re wearing. he takes a sip from his drink at the same time his eyes scan over the new look. “this what you bought on saturday?” “hm? yeah, it’s really nice, right?” rin looks between you and his drink. “if i didn’t have manners, i would’ve thrown this glass and kissed you.” amused, you jokingly hit his stomach. “why can’t you compliment me like a normal person?” rin takes no offense, instead maneuvering so he can hold his drink while wrapping his other arm around you. he squeezes you, grinning when you yelp. “‘one, cause you look hot, and two, where’s the fun in that?”

OSAMU lets out a low whistle as you walk into the living room, eyes scanning you up and down. he gets up from the couch, and places his hands on your hips. “y’sure you have to go out tonight?” “'samu.” he laughs at your pointed look and puts his hands up in surrender. “i’m kidding, hon. you look stunning, though.” rolling your eyes, you thank him. “c’mon, i’m gonna be late if we don’t go now.” you walk to the door, but osamu thinks back to the weather forecast for the evening. “you aren’t bringin’ a jacket?” “hm? nah, we’re gonna be inside.” putting on your shoes, you respond without looking, and are surprised by the weight that suddenly covers your shoulders. you know osamu's favourite jacket from anywhere, and you let him shift it to cover you. he leans over to kiss your temple and mumbles in your ear, “now you’ll be warm and everyone will remember we’re dating.”

SAKUSA’s fingers slip from his cuff button again, earning a huff and frown from him. “‘omi, are you ready?” “yeah, can you just help me w—” he turns to the sound of your voice and pauses. the new outfit you told him about makes his heart skip a beat, and he almost forgets about his own suit predicament. “with what? oh, the button?” you make your way over to help, kiyoomi staring the entire time. “there ya go.” “you look incredible,” is the first thing he says instead of thank you. it catches you off-guard, “huh? oh. i—thank you. you look very handsome.” there’s a beat of silence as kiyomi weighs the pros and cons of going out or staying home. you have to stop yourself from laughing when he asks with a straight face, “completely related, am i allowed to be mean if anyone tries to flirt with you?”

IWAIZUMI looks up when he hears the changing room door open. you’re fixing the waist of your outfit, and don’t notice the way his eyes widen. he whispers under his breath, “holy fuck.” “haji, do you think it’s too much for the dinner? i know it’s ‘just your old teammates’ but, like, i want to look good,” you explain. his gaze softens and he clears his throat before standing. “no, it’s perfect. you look…you look perfect.” you smile at him and it’s all he can do to stop himself from covering his face and groaning. “oikawa’s going to say something about you looking better than me, and i won’t even be able to disagree.” the sound of your laughter fills the air and hajime huffs a laugh at himself. “well, we better get something just as good for you then.”

TSUKISHIMA’s not great with compliments, and he always wants to kick himself in the ass for it when it comes to you. you look at him standing behind you in the mirror. “i think this is the one. what do you think, kei?” biting his lip, he looks to the side and clears his throat. “it looks good.” he doesn’t have to look to feel you staring at him. “you sure? you don’t think it’s missing something?” kei takes a second to try thinking of a response, then he glances at your wary expression and lets out a breath. “no, i promise. you look great, and this is the best thing you could have chosen.” you smile at yourself, and his gaze softens a fraction before he’s back to being tsukishima—“you ready? because we’re going to be late if we keep standing here, and the group chat’s about to blow up our phones.”

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#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #matsukawa x reader #atsumu x reader #hinata x reader #kuroo x reader #suna x reader #osamu x reader #sakusa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #tsukishima x reader #x reader

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cevansbrat0007 · 10 months

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Case of the Ex: Part I

Summary: Just as you decide to explore your feelings for Ari, an unexpected blast from your past sends you reeling...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Ex-boyfriends, Discussions of Weight, Discussions of Body Image, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Brief Discussions of Race, Pet Names, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me brainstorm. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“So do you trust me now, Mr. Carmichael?” You tease as you carefully place several books into your customer’s reusable shopping bag while you wait on the receipt to print. “Because the way I see it, I haven’t steered you wrong yet.”

“Here we go.” The older man grumbles, playfulling rolling his eyes as you punch in the last few numbers to complete the transaction.

“My recommendation track record speaks for itself.” You can’t help but laugh at the look he gives you. As if you two didn’t have the same conversation at least once a month. “I just want you to give me my props.”

“Arrogance isn’t a good look on you, young lady.”

“Who said anything about arrogance?” Your eyes go comically wide as you lean into the theatrics by pretending to look around your shop. “Certainly not me. I’m just a small business owner, standing in front of the best retired florist in all of Bell’s Creek, humbly requesting that he finally give me my flippin’ flowers.”

Mr. Carmichael heaves a weary sigh. “Fine, fine. You were right.” He steps back from the counter to give a dramatic bow. “Jean Hanff Korelitz’s Jacob Bonner was strong enough to rival Stephen King’s own Mort Rainey and Thad Beaumont. Your literary tastes reign superior once again.”

“And there it is.” You rip the receipt from the printer and drop it into the bag before handing it over so that you can rest your elbows on the counter. “Now was that really that bad? It’s not like I asked for one of your Sapphire Sweetheart bouquets, after all.”

“That entire moment was so positively excruciating I almost didn’t live through it.” He keeps his tone light as he slings the bag over his shoulder. “Anyway, same time next month?”

“Can’t wait.” You respond with a wink and a wave. “Wouldn’t miss it. And please give Millie my love.”

“Will do!” He calls behind him as he heads out the door.

Once he’s gone you decide to stand up and stretch, raising your arms over your head. You’re not satisfied until you hear the sound of your spine popping. And then you up the ante, twisting your body from side to side before bending down and touching your toes.

You hold the position for a moment, content to let yourself dangle until you hear the chime of the front door, signaling the arrival of another customer. Which was great news for you, especially since business had been kind of slow this morning.

“Welcome to Baubles & Quills!” You chirp as you quickly right yourself. “How can I he–” The words die on your lips when you get a good look at the person standing just inside the doorway.

“Hiya, Cupcake.”

It’s a nickname you haven’t heard in years. And it had only ever been used by one man. The same one who had broken your heart and left a wound so deep you’d been almost convinced that it would never heal.

And yet there he was. Standing right there in your shop. Somehow even more handsome than you remembered.

Mason J. Prescott.

The seconds tick by, turning into minutes as a loaded silence washes over you both. Whatever you’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. A visit from your ex-boyfriend had not been on today’s bingo card.

Grinning, Mason closes the gap between you. His long, denim clad legs covering the distance in a few easy strides. Once he’s in front of you he removes his Stetson pinchfront and sits it on the counter before taking the opportunity to run his fingers through his thick black locks.

“Damn if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes.” Still grinning, his gray eyes give you a thorough onceover. It’s a blatant, slow moving perusal that lets you know he likes what he sees. “I swear they don’t make girls as pretty as you out in Brickfield. Must be something in the water.”

“Uh…hi.” You stammer as shock continues to course its way through you.

“You lookin’ to catch some flies there, Cupcake?”

Shit. That meant you were staring. Probably with your mouth open. It was an old bad habit that, up until today, you could’ve sworn you had licked.

“Sorry.” You cough, forcing your brain to reboot.

“No need to be sorry.” While Mason’s easygoing charm used to calm your nerves, today it seemed to be doing the opposite.

“What brings you..?” You trail off to take a steadying breath. “I didn’t realize you were back in town.”

What the hell was he doing here?

“I just flew in last night. Caught a red-eye home from Buffalo, New York..” He decides to explain further after you flash him a quizzical glance. “Dad had me working on a business deal up there. It was a quick trip with an even quicker turnaround.”

Oh. “Got it.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his five-o’clock shadow. “My, uh, plan had been to fly back out to Brickfield first and then make the drive. But after speaking with my Mama no less than six nerve-racking times in the span of an hour, I figured I’d be better off coming straight here. And I’ll be damned if it doesn’t feel good to be back.” He raps his knuckles on the wood.

“I’m sure they’re all very happy you’re home.” You weren’t really sure what else to say to that, so you kept it simple. Although it still didn’t explain his reason for showing up at what was arguably the equivalent of your doorstep.

“Maybe. Some more than others, I suppose.” His voice drops an octave as he pins you with a knowing look. “Any chance you might be one of those people?”

Your teeth begin to gnaw at your bottom lip as your palms go damp with sweat. Why on earth would he care or not about whether you were happy to see him or not? Especially since you hadn’t spoken in–

“I’ve thought of you damn near every day over the last five years.”

“Mace…” His former nickname comes on the heels of a weary sigh.

“I’m serious, sweets.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t.”

You did not want to do this today. It wasn’t fair or right of him to think he could just pick up and waltz back into your life as if he expected your feelings for him to be the same.

Things had changed since then. You had changed. Everything was different now, starting and ending with you.

“I’ve been thinking…” Now it’s his turn to sigh as he squares his shoulders. “Maybe we made a mistake.”

“Ha!” You let out an unladylike snort, your hand flying to your mouth in an attempt to catch it. “I don’t believe for a second that I’m the reason your Mama pressed you to hussle your ass back to our quaint little town.”

“I came back because I needed to deal with a family matter. But I was thinking about staying because the one that got away also happens to own a shop that’s just down the road from my parent’s ranch.” His sobering admission is enough to send you reeling all over again.

Mason then places his hand atop yours, allowing the slightly roughened pad of his thumb to stroke along the ridge of your knuckles.

“I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning.” You give him your best haughty southern belle impression. “But if you’d like, I can point you in the direction of our Self-Help books. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of helpful literature on learning from your past mistakes. Might I recommend John Purkiss’ bestseller, The Power of Letting Go? I hear it’s a real page turner.”

Your newfound snippiness has your ex-boyfriend rocking back on his heels. He even appears a little stunned. Good.

You weren’t the same meek young woman he’d left behind all those years ago. Something that Mason James Prescott would do well to remember.

“Sheesh, Cupcake.” Your former flame presses a hand over his heart, feigning as if you’d wounded him. “You might’ve shed a few extra pounds when I wasn’t looking, but I see you've also gained a little sass too.”

You fold your arms over your chest as you take a moment to process what feels very much like a backhanded compliment. God’s gift to Bell’s Creek didn’t know it yet, but you were getting dangerously close to kicking his pert ass out of your shop.

As if sensing that he’s made an error, he quickly clears his throat. “All I’m saying is that I recognize that I’m dealing with a new and improved you.” He moves to reach for you again before apparently thinking better of it.

“But forgive me if I have a hard time thinking of you as anything but the doe-eyed freshman who wrote poetry behind the bleachers. That is, when she wasn’t busy taking home top prize at the state fair’s pie baking contest year after year.” Mason offers you his own award winning smile for good measure, highlighting the dimple on his left cheek.

Suddenly, the room feels a little too hot for your comfort. You didn’t like feeling this unsettled. These days the only man who was allowed to get under your skin was your handsome, overbearing bounty hunter.

It was a right that he’d earned, whether you liked it or not. And there were honestly times when you damn well didn’t. But you’d also be lying if you said that you weren’t learning to live with it.

“I could sure go for a slice of your famous brambleberry pie right about now.” Mason keeps his deep voice low and even as he takes a tentative step around the side of your cash register, which is the only thing currently separating the two of you. “But I’d be willing to settle for some cherry pie and a scoop of homemade vanilla bean ice cream over at Holtman’s Diner on West 5th if you’d be open to join me.”

“So I can watch you stuff your face with pie while I nibble on a depressing fruit salad from a can like a sad little rabbit?” You scoff. “Pass.”

Mason huffs out an annoyed breath, his brows drawing together. “You were the one who always complained about shit going to your hips. Meanwhile, I was just doing my part to be supportive. Isn’t that what any good man is supposed to do for his woman?”

Apparently you weren’t the only one experiencing a few ruffled feathers here. Fantastic.

“I’m not sure it’s allowed to fall under the category of being supportive –” you respond, complete with appropriate air quotes “– if you’re also the one constantly pointing it out.”

“We were kids, baby!” His hands fly to his waist so that he’s now standing akimbo. “Just a couple of stupid kids worried about stupid shit like football practice and prom pictures. I felt like I was walking around with the world on my shoulders back then. It wasn’t as easy for me as everybody liked to think.” He shifts his weight, resting his hip against the cashwrap. “Nobody understood the pressures of growing up as a Prescott. Nobody even tried…”

‘Oh yeah?’ Your internal voice all but screams. ‘Try being one of only five black kids in your entire goddamned graduating class. But do you see me crying? Nope.’

At any rate, you didn’t sign up for this month’s Prescott Pity Party. So you were about to politely request that he miss you with that bullshit.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to carry so much alone, Mace. I really am.” You look down at your feet as you try to drum up a way to usher him out the door without touching him. But the next thing you know, he’s suddenly standing directly in front of you.

“Except for you.” He reaches out to clutch at your biceps, his big hands smoothing up and down your bare arms. “You saw past the spoiled little rich kid act when no one else did. And I didn’t appreciate you like I should have.”

Your heart speeds up as you take notice of the way his eyes darken. He’s so close that you can see the light smattering of freckles dotting the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. If memory served, he’d broken it during a heated football game.

One where he claimed an opposing player made several crude comments about your body and choice of skirt. At the time you’d considered him a hero. But now…

Now you saw him for what he was. Another run-of-the-mill Prescott pretty boy. All style and no substance. That was the crux of it.

Right?

“Why are you doing this?” Your question comes out weaker than you’d like, but at least it doesn’t waver.

“Because I want you to have dinner with me tonight. For old times’ sake.” His determined gaze bores into your own as all of the oxygen slowly dissipates from the room. “Please, Cupcake?”

Just then, you hear the chiming of the door, signaling the arrival of yet another customer. Spell broken, you take a fortifying step back – needing to put some distance between you and the town’s golden boy.

“Am I interrupting something?” The sound of a familiar voice has your already volatile emotions spiraling in the complete opposite direction as a sense of relief blooms in your chest.

Saved by the damn bell. Thank the Lord.

“Yeah.” Mason snaps at the same time you throw out a swift “nope”.

“Bird?”

Of course your gruff bounty hunter would defer to you on this one – for which you were grateful. You turn your attention to him, not missing the tick in his chiseled jaw.

Now that you saw them together, Ari appeared to have a good inch in height on your former lover. Aside from that, their builds were pretty similar. Instead it was the glaring difference in their personalities that managed to separate one from the other.

“It’s fine, Ari.”

“Bird?” Mason’s lip curls in an almost sneer as his hands drop to his sides. “Is that what you go by now? It’s…cute.” He tacks on the last part when you respond with a simple shrug.

If you were being honest, you didn’t much care how he felt or not. You just wanted him gone so that you could actually breathe again.

“Ari, huh?” He turns to give your man his full attention as realization finally dawns. “You must be that rent-a-cop my father was telling me about. Said you blew into town looking for Martin Westbrook’s sorry ass.”

“Not quite, pal. But you’re almost there.” Ari spares a bored glance in the direction of his would-be rival. But he doesn’t say anything. You knew without him telling you that he was busy assessing the situation. It was something he had a habit of doing anywhere he went.

Especially when found himself face-to-face with a dick like Mason Prescott.

“Well, you won’t find him here, buddy.” Your ex gives him a dismissive nod. “So why don’t you see yourself out? The lady and I were just in the middle of catching up before you took it upon yourself to interrupt.”

An uncomfortable silence ensues as both men stare each other down, each refusing to blink. The tension grows thicker with each passing moment. And it remains that way until you move to step between them.

“Mace is an old friend who stopped by for a chat.” You tell Ari, jamming your nervous hands in your pockets. “But we were just wrapping up so I could get back to doing inventory.”

It was a lie. And you recognized that Ari was someone who deserved a better, more in-depth explanation than the basic one that you just gave him. But for now it would simply have to do. At least until you got your bearings.

“But what about that pie?” Mason pouts, obviously upset by the prospect of you kicking him out. “Don’t leave me to eat alone, Cupcake.”

“Cupcake? Wow.” Ari scoffs under his breath, not bothering to his disapproval.

“Old friend, old nickname.” You hiss, somehow feeling even more self-conscious than you already did. “Now that we’ve established all that, I think it’s best if you two peaches get a move-on. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.”

Needing some space, you attempt to shoo them out the door. But unfortunately, you might as well have better luck trying to herd a couple of cats. Lucky you.

“What about lunch?” Your man growls. Apparently he didn’t take too kindly to being thrown out either.

“Too busy. Gotta cancel. Sorry you came out all this way, but these books aren’t gonna stock themselves so…” You throw your arms in the air. “It is what it is.”

Instead of accepting his dismissal, Ari takes a step towards you. He doesn’t stop until he’s in front of you, his body eclipsing your smaller frame and effectively blocking you from Mason’s view.

“Did you eat today, baby?” He asks as one big hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, giving you an affectionate squeeze. Some of the stiffness in his shoulders eases when you give him a little nod. “Good. What’d you have?”

“A piece of toast and a hard boiled egg.”

“Alright.” Warmth pools in your belly when your sweet bounty hunter hands over a plastic bag filled with what feels suspiciously like a sandwich and chips. “It’s a grilled chicken caesar wrap. Best they had since you said you don’t like that chipotle spread. Also got you some sea salt and vinegar chips, some cuke and onion salad, and a cookie.”

Christ. This man was simply too good for you. Moments like these only served to remind you that you truly didn’t deserve him.

“Thank you.” You murmur once you finally manage to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“I’m gonna need you to eat every last bite for me.” He tells you, his intoxicating blue eyes dropping to your lips. “So that I can fully enjoy taking a bite out of you later.” Thankfully, he's thoughtful enough to whisper the last bit. Making it clear that it was for your ears only.

“Okay, Ari.”

Nodding, he shifts his attention back to an increasingly annoyed Mason. But while there’s no way he could’ve missed the moment you shared with Ari just now, he chooses to stew in silence. Which is absolutely fine by you.

“Call me when you lock up.” You know that Ari’s words are meant for you even though his focus remains entirely on the other man taking up space in your tiny lobby.

“I’ll see you around, Cupcake.” Mason smiles, but this time you notice that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can’t wait to find out if you’re still as sweet as I remember.” He finishes with a knowing wink.

With that, he turns and strides out of the shop, not even bothering to hold the door for Ari. But your man doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he makes a show of shouldering through it with minimal effort.

As soon as it swings shut you hit the lock and flip the sign. And then you duck in the corner, watching as the two men exchange what you can only assume to be a few choice words right there in your parking lot.

And while you can’t make out what they’re saying, you’re convinced that it’s anything but friendly – what with them being practically nose to nose.

You stay in your spot until Ari and Mason finish their conversation. And it’s only once they’ve climbed in their respective cars and driven away that you finally slink off to the back room to lick your wounds and figure out your next move.

Fuck! You had the sinking feeling that things were about to get complicated fast. Opening the fridge, you toss your lunch inside before slamming it shut so that you can snag a homemade strawberry and cream popsicle from the freezer.

As you sit down, you feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. You fish it out, surprised to see that you’ve got a text from Ari that reads:

“Mace seems like a real stand-up guy.”

“No shit, Beast.” Rolling your eyes, you place the device facedown on a nearby table before nibbling on your sweet and creamy treat. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

END

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kingdomoftyto · 5 days

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I just finished a complete re-read for the third (fourth?) time and the recent updates are barreling toward some climactic events, so I therefore feel compelled to make a proper rec post for something LONG overdue:

The Glass Scientists, a webcomic about Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, rogue science, Victorian repression, and a WHOLE lot more.

Our protagonist is the esteemed Dr. Henry Jekyll, co-founder of the Society for Arcane Sciences, an organization that aims to bring mad science into the mainstream by proving that not all who practice it are dangerous lunatics. This is easier said than done, especially with the violent death of a certain Dr. Frankenstein still weighing on the minds of the public years after the fact. Not to mention...

... Henry's own inner demons.

Edward Hyde serves as a sort of release valve for Henry's stresses whenever the pressure of running the Society proves to be too much. Hyde is everything he can't be: spontaneous, emotional, uninhibited. Free to take what he wants without guilt or public consequences.

And oh, Henry wants.

His transformation into Hyde is a physical manifestation of the repression of his queer inclinations. This is not subtext. It's not even an accident on Henry's part. It's a central facet to who he is as a person (and, by extension, who Hyde is, as well).

...But listen. We don't have time to unpack all THAT! Not when there are so many other delightful characters to meet! Such as Henry's best friend / business partner / old flame Robert:

Or Jasper, the newest member of the Society, a plucky young cryptozoologist who happens to also be a werewolf, and who gets swept up in a VERY cute relationship with the slightly unhinged cook (and Henry's other best friend), Rachel:

Or Hyde himself, who despite all his debauchery may not actually be the pinnacle of evil that he believes himself to be:

Because if you couldn't tell from the sampling of panels in this post, this comic is not only a gripping emotional drama but also an OUTRAGEOUS comedy, when the mood calls for it. It truly strikes a perfect balance of the two, in my humble opinion.

On top of all that, the art is gorgeous, the atmosphere is impeccable (swinging from fantastical whimsy to genuine horror and back with deft skill), and the characters are deep and dynamic and full of gray areas.

I can't recommend it enough. It's hands-down my favorite actively-updating webcomic (new page every Monday!), and I'm for-real having to restrain myself from going back and starting ANOTHER re-read right now, it's that good. I've spoiled a tiny bit in this post, but believe me when I say the cast and events get so much weirder and more wonderful than even this. Please check it out.

#The Glass Scientists #comic rec #it's 3 a.m. woooo!! i will add image alt text in the morning if i think about it lol rip #hope this post isn't too much of a rambling mess i really should have gone to bed over an hour ago

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ticklystuff · 8 months

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Hi! Can you please write Lee Kaveh and Ler Alhaitham with Bellybutton? 👀

closed, send no more!

a/n: hiiii i'm sorry this took so long! the idea for this fic is cringe but i really liked it so i just ran with it hahaha but hope you enjoy!

characters: alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari is here for a minute lol

wc: ~2.1k

"No way! You're not serious, right?"

"No, yeah, I'm not kidding! It's actually so funny!"

Alhaitham huffed as the two's voices permeated through his bedroom walls that he was sure were made of paper at this point. Visitors weren't commonplace for his humble abode and there was a good reason for that, yet despite knowing this, Kaveh's persistence somehow managed to sway Alhaitham into allowing Tighnari to come over for tea. The blond's request was immediately shot down with zero hesitation on Alhaitham's part, as entertaining guests was not particularly one of his strong suits, but after some careful consideration, the potential pros seemed to outweigh the cons. Not only would it give Alhaitham some free time away from the blond, but Kaveh would have someone else to let out his little vents onto. Oftentimes, there was little substance to what Kaveh usually had to say and the inability to spark meaningful conversation meant a good waste of a portion to Alhaitham's day. With Tighnari over, however, Alhaitham would no longer be subjected to such a time sink and could enjoy his afternoon Kaveh-free.. or so he initially thought. The ecstatic giggles from the two escalated into screeching laughter and that familiar feeling of regret, something Alhaitham often associated with anything related to Kaveh, began to take its place in his chest. Not even the noise-cancelling earpieces he purchased specifically for situations like these were of aid.

That's it. Tighnari had overstayed his welcome.

Slamming the book in hand with one swift motion, Alhaitham stood up from his desk, marching over to his bedroom door to give Kaveh and his guest a piece of his mind, only to immediately stop in his tracks when his ears caught on to the topic at hand.

"Yeah, Alhaitham is so ticklish too!"

The little cogs in Alhaitham's brain seemed to come to a standstill, malfunctioning as his brain attempted to process what Kaveh so casually blurted out, taking more time than it should have put him back on track. Once things were back up and running, Alhaitham was still at a loss on how to react, left standing in place, blinking over and over as the words replayed in his head, face turned flush unknowingly. Why was this even a topic of conversation, let alone something that Kaveh felt the need to share? Do normal people even think about tickling in their daily lives? What would even bring such a subject on like this?

"Wait really?" Tighnari sounded genuinely shocked, as if most people in the world weren't ticklish on some level. "People like Cyno and Alhaitham too, I guess, always go around acting super serious, but then just fall to a couple of tickles." Okay, so apparently this is a normal thing for Tighnari too.

"I know, right? He's always like 'I'm acting grand sage Alhaitham, my house my rules blahblahblah.'" Alhaitham reeled at the comically guttural voice Kaveh used to imitate him; he didn't sound like that at all. "But then he screams when your hands even get close to his sides."

"Wait, that actually reminds of this one time," Tighnari began, clearly excited by the tone of his voice, "but I poked at Cyno's ribs once and he made like these sounds; I'm not sure how to describe them, but like, he almost sounded like a pig, I guess?"

"A pig? I don't think- oh wait! You mean like this?" The following sounds were reason enough for Alhaitham to rip his eardrums out, resembling what he assumed was Kaveh's best impression of a snorting pig. Whether the imitated pig was being laid to slaughter or not, he wasn't so sure.

To Tighnari, though, these noises sufficed, as evident by the entertained laughter that Alhaitham was able to make out through the door. "Yes, thank you! That's exactly what he sounds like!"

"Oh, and don't even get me started on Alhaitham." As much as wished to stop eavesdropping, the sudden mention of his name again piqued the scribe's ears. "He may not snort like Cyno, but he does something just as bad." There was a brief silence that not even Tighnari broke and Alhaitham found himself removing the earbuds that seldom left his ears, pressing the side of his head to the door for full clarity. "One time, I tickled Alhaitham and I was able to get him to squeal," Kaveh spoke, as if this was a personal achievement to be proud of.

Something in Alhaitham's brain snapped at this very moment, his left eye twitching as Kaveh and Tighnari continued their waste of a conversation. Squeal? Never once in his life has he ever done such a thing. He couldn't even recall the specific instance that Kaveh was referring to, but the more he thought about it, the more the heat in his head began to rise, creating an unfamiliar feeling as it was unlike the scribe to lose his cool. Still, even if it was true, which it definitely was not, who did Kaveh think he was to be spreading around hearsay like this? His hand reached for the knob of the door, fully ready to go out and not only defend his pride, but rip Kaveh to shreds, yet Alhaitham's hand froze just as he turned the knob, halting at the thought of a new idea, a plan most satisfying.

"Ah, it looks like it's getting late." Alhaitham's ears perked up at the sound of Tighnari's voice, nearly smirking with how things just seemed to line up for him. "I should get going soon. I promised Cyno I'd walk him home today." How convenient.

"Oh, take some of the snacks! Let me go find some containers to pack them up for you." Alhaitham listened to the shuffle of multiple footsteps resounding off the floorboards, mixed with the idle chit chat that his ears began to tune out. At least they moved past the previous subject..

"Alright, thanks again!" The familiar sound of the front door being opened followed Tighnari's farewell. "Tell Alhaitham I said hi!"

"Alright, alright, take care!"

Alhaitham continued to stand by his bedroom door in silence, giving himself a few minutes before proceeding with his plan in mind. He listened as the front door shut, followed by what he assumed was Kaveh cleaning up after his gossip session with Tighnari, noting the occasional incoherent grumble from the blond. Once a sufficient amount of time had passed, Alhaitham slowly stepped out of his room, walking down the short aisle to see Kaveh's back to him, tidying up just like he presumed. There were two empty wine glasses resting on the table, a possible explanation to the obnoxious laughter.

"Kaveh."

The sound of Alhaitham's voice seemingly morphed Kaveh's mannerisms, a noticeable shift to the strung-up self Alhaitham was most familiar with. "Ugh, there you are!" Kaveh bellowed with a spin to his heel, marching up to Alhaitham, a slight tinge of pink to his face. "You couldn't even spare the time of day to come out of your room and greet Tighnari! Like, what kind of host do you think you are?!"

"A good one, considering you'd most likely complain about my presence killing the mood," Alhaitham simply brushed off the nagging, visibly irritating Kaveh further. "Anyway, I did not come here for you to criticize me. Rather, I'm inquiring about your earlier conversation with him."

Kaveh scoffed, hands on his hips. "Oh, so now you're interested in things I have to say?"

"Not really," Alhaitham responded flatly, "but for the sake of my efforts, let's pretend that I am."

"I mean just some normal chit-chat, I guess," Kaveh said with a shrug, raising an eyebrow at the other. "Why are you asking? If you're so curious, just hang out with us the next time."

"Well, I'd prefer not to go through the trouble," Alhaitham waved off the suggestion, an ill use of his time, really. "However, I couldn't help but overhear-"

"Oh, so you were listening!"

"-the topic of your conversation being a peculiar one," Alhaitham continued, the interruption hardly worth addressing. "Kaveh, tell me, have you ever squealed before?"

This fully caught the other off-guard, the blatant confusion written all over his face. "What?"

"During your conversation with Tighnari, you mentioned details about my overall sensitivity. Although I do not deny being somewhat ticklish, I must refute the fact that you mention I squeal. There has never-"

"Seriously? This is what you're hung up on?"

"-been a time where I have ever done such a thing, leading me to the conclusion that you've yet to experience the particular sound. Therefore, I have decided-"

"Come on, Alhaitham. It's not a big deal."

"-that perhaps you need to squeal yourself."

"What are you even-" Alhaitham observed as Kaveh's own words suddenly caught in his mouth, the look of alarm bells visibly going off in his head as the realization of the younger's words settled in. The blond gave two nervous blinks, to which Alhaitham responded with a single nod, an indication of what was about to occur. Before Alhaitham could take his next breath, Kaveh was already off running, prompting Alhaitham to shortly do the same.

"Don't-! NO! Stay away from mehehe!" Kaveh shrieked with apprehensive giggles as he barely avoided Alhaitham's grasp, snatching one of the cushions from the sofa to use as a lousy projectile that hardly required dodging on Alhaitham's part.

"What's the matter, Kaveh?" Alhaitham barely missed a beat in his step as Kaveh attempted everything possible to throw off the scribe in his pursuit, knowing Kaveh well enough to read his movements. "You wouldn't happen to be ticklish, would you?"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Kaveh's voice grew more frantic with each circle around the sofa, his pleas for mercy falling on Alhaitham's deaf ears. "I shouldn't have said anything! I'm sohohorry!"

"Yeah, you shouldn't have."

"Alhaitham, wait! Truce! Trucetrucetruce! Please- noHOHO!" Whether it was due to his usual clumsiness or the glass of red wine from earlier, Alhaitham was sure it was a combination of both, the scribe managed to eventually snatch Kaveh by the waist, firmly wrapping his arm around the other to prevent him from squirming free. Kaveh was already a giggly mess before Alhaitham had even started, doing everything in his power, which admittedly wasn't much, to stop the inevitable, but once Alhaitham's fingers began prodding through the thin flowy top that Kaveh oh-so loved to wear on his days off did the fun really begin.

"Noho! NOHOHO!" Choosing to start at his ribs, Alhaitham was rewarded with a healthy dose of laughter as his fingers teased at the sensitive area with dexterity and precision, unfazed by the squirmy Kaveh in his arm. On top of the flurries of movement came multitude of cursing and swearing, most incoherent due to the mix forced laughter, yet Alhaitham continued in a collected manner, already an expert at blocking out Kaveh's voice. After all, he only had one goal on his mind, each poke pushing his determination further.

"Squeal."

This appeared to set something off in Kaveh, arms flailing about more wildly accompanied by a cry that could only resemble one of a strangled cat, clearly rejecting the proposition. "NOHOHO! LeheHEHEheht me gohoHOHO!" His body seemingly shrunk in Alhaitham's hold, a failed attempt at scrunching away from the way his fingers walked down the middle of his ribcage and along his waist, each step defined to trigger an individual sensation that made Kaveh jump.

"Squeal."

"Alhaithahaham, wahaHAHAIT!" Jumbled laughter was all that spilled from his mouth now, unable to properly structure coherent sentences. Despite the shrill shrieks, there was something almost charming about the laughter that filled the room and Alhaitham couldn't help but smile along, if only just slightly. Still, despite the near entrancement, Alhaitham remained on track, taking particular notice to the seemingly growing frenzied responses elicited in Kaveh's reactions, both bodily and vocally, whenever his hand hovered just over his navel. Perhaps this might just be what he needed..

"Squeal."

"HaAAAH!! NO-NOHOHO!"

Just as he thought, Alhaitham had struck gold, drawing out the exact reaction he sought. Kaveh's squeal echoed throughout the space, almost as if the walls reverberated with his laughter. He allowed himself to tease that specific area longer than intended, enjoying the hectic mess Kaveh had become in the process, before finally releasing the blond, watching as Kaveh quickly hobbled away to create distance between the two.

"Well, I hope you've learned your lesson," Alhaitham put it bluntly, catching the irate expression Kaveh shot him. "Now, you wouldn't want me spreading the story about how you squeal when tickled, right?"

"Fine, fine, we're even!" Kaveh scoffed, throwing his arms up in annoyance. "Truce?"

Alhaitham couldn't help but smirk in response. "Truce."

#kavetham #kaveh #alhaitham #genshin impact #tickling

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froggyfics · 8 months

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For Your Pleasure - 1

The invaders arrive.

Y'all...this series is wild.

18+ only! I do not consent for this content to be viewed by minors. Please take heed of the warnings listed, though they are not entirely comprehensive. Do not continue reading if you are uncomfortable with the content. This story and its contents are 100% fictional, and are not affiliated with Marvel Comics.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Pairing: viking!dark! Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Warnings: violence, bloodshed, nonconsensual touching

Word Count: 1,351

You never thought you could see so much blood. If it were not for the rain, it would have settled into your pores and stained you. However, you knew that whether it was raining or not, you would be changed. The blood could be washed out, but your mind was forever scarred.

Njal’s head remains in the water. The open wound on his neck still spills blood into the water, tainting it pink.

You want to look away from the horror of seeing his dead body, but at the same time you don’t want to. Looking away would be a disservice to Njal. You want to remember. Remembering meant that you were alive. And being alive meant that you could curse him and his band of murderers.

Your jaw clenches in anger when he steps directly on Njal’s head to cross the stream. The sound of his foot colliding with the back of Njal’s head reverberates in the air.

“Hush now, Frida.” You hug her sideways, and rub her arm comfortingly. She continues to shake violently due to the fright and cold. The heat generated by rubbing your hand against her arm is pointless, but you can’t stop. You must do something – anything – even if it’s meaningless to distract you from the chaos.

He stomps on the puddle directly in front of you and Frida. The mud splatters on the hem of your dress. Frida’s whimpers only increase in volume, but you hold her steady. As long as you look down, as long as you remain silent, perhaps he will spare you.

The fear overcomes Frida. She yanks herself out of your grasp and desperately attempts to run. Her feet lodge in the mud several times, which exasperates how pathetic she looks trying to escape.

“Frida, no!” you call out.

It’s already too late. You watch in horror as he reaches behind his back to grab an arrow from his quiver. He aligns the arrow on his arrow rest and the nocking point. He pulls the white string back and the arrow swooshes through the air.

You look away, defeated. You’re not as brave as you thought you were. Her scream pierces your eardrums.

You are the one now violently shaking. Except, no one is here to comfort, or at least try to comfort you. You’re not sure where your family is. You all split up the moment they landed on your shores. They may be dead or they be alive. Regardless, they aren’t coming to save you.

“They always run,” he sighs. “Pointless, truly.”

You say nothing. You’re not even sure if he’s speaking to you or to someone else.

He grabs your chin roughly to look at him. It hurts. You feel as though your jaw will break in his metal arm.

“Will you run?”

You shake your head immediately.

He smiles at you, but it frightens you even further. His white teeth are covered with blood. You’re not sure if it’s his own or…

You’ve heard of the Jarl of Brooklyn before. His violent reputation crossed continents and seas. But Brooklyn always seemed so far away. Even when a nearby village was pillaged by him a few months past, it never occurred to you that he would come here, to your humble settlement.

“I have grains,” you offer. “They’re – they’re stored on my property.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, do you now?”

“Yes!” you breathe a sigh of relief. He sounds entranced by your offer. Maybe if you willingly appease him, he’ll let you live. He’ll let your family live. “I can take you to my home. Please.”

He looks you over and you almost are embarrassed by the way you look until you remind yourself of the circumstances.

“Alright, take me to your home.” He’s still smiling. You’re sure that you’ll have nightmare of his face for the rest of your days.

You trudge through the thick mud, slipping every so often, only to be held up by his hand around your neck. Though it may seem like you’re guiding him, he’s the one in control of the situation. His hand rests on the back of your neck, reminding you every step home that there is truly no escaping him.

You recognize the fallen villagers. Every single one that you pass. Njal was your neighbor, always helping your father during harvest season. Hilda made the most beautiful, beaded jewelry for you and your sister at a discount. Gertrud taught you to swim.

And Frida was…a child. A stupid, rambunctious, annoying one. You were always irritated at her presence – her high energy conflicted with yours. She always wanted to follow you around the village like a thorn in your side. Now more than ever, you want to hear her ramblings in your ear. You wish she was right next to you, bothering you, asking you question after question. If only you knew to be grateful that pesky Frida was the worst of your troubles.

As you approach your home with your warden right behind you, you encounter several more intruders. You can’t help but scowl as they pillage your neighbors’ homes and grope the women without shame. You pass by Helga and Leif’s home. Even though the door is closed, you can hear Helga’s screams. There’s nothing you can do.

You guide the strange man to your family’s home, opening the wooden door shakily.

“There,” you point at the barrels near the hearth, but the man is not listening to you.

You catch him observing every part of your house. Dread fills your body as it becomes clear that the man wants more than just grains.

“Please, just take the grains. We have nothing left to offer you.”

It’s a lie. You have several pounds of dried meat in the smokehouse, and barrels full of milk and skyr are hidden underneath the table benches. But offering the man your family’s grain supply will certainly lead to a hungry winter, so you do your best to keep up the rouse.

His frightening eyes meet yours, and his face stretches to a bloody smile.

“I’m sure you have more to offer than some grains.”

Were you that bad of a liar? You gulp as you wrack your brain to figure out a solution that won’t leave your family destitute for the winter.

“Berries. Fresh ones. We’ve just picked lingonberries and strawberries.” You walk to a barrel next the grains. “Right here.” You pat the barrel filled with berries.

“I’m sure you have more to offer than some berries.”

The blue-eyed man stands an arm’s length away, but inches towards you.

You step backwards to avoid his grasp. “Skyr!” you gasp when his arm nearly grabs your own. “We have skyr as well.”

“I’m sure you have more to offer than some skyr.”

Goodness, this man intends to starve your family!

“Please, this is all that we have!”

You continue walking backwards, circling the hearth while he follows you. Every two steps you take is equivalent to one of his. You pick up your pace and so does he.

As if you didn’t learn a lesson from Frida, you attempt to run yourself. Your feet jump and you change the direction of your body in midair towards the closed door. The moment you land on your feet he plants his foot in between your legs.

You land on the ground with a thud. The air is knocked out of your body, but there’s no time to catch your breath. He flips you onto your back and sits on your stomach. He unsheathes his knife from his waist. The blade is dark red, the blood upon it has already dried. He lowers the tip of it to your clavicle and sharply moves downward. The cold air nips your newly exposed chest.

His weight makes it difficult for you to take a deep breath in, so you can barely him through your gasping when he starts to speak.

“I’m sure you have more to offer,” he says, all while smiling with blood in teeth, mud in his hair, and sadism in his eyes.

#marvel comics #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #viking!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x you

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xpao-bearx · 1 year

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"Partners In Crime"

Officer Callahan x Bad Girl!Reader

SUMMARY: As the resident "bad girl" of Hawkins, you truly only want one thing: to get into the pants of the resident dorky and dedicated police officer, Phil Callahan (and hey, maybe steal his heart too!).

NOTES: I recently just finished Stranger Things and yeah, great show, but have you SEEN the men??? 👀 Anyhoe, being the ✨️whore✨️ that I am, it really comes as no surprise that I'm simping over all the hot dudes but one of the hotties I've become obsessed with is CRIMINALLY underrated 😭

And so, of course, I took this grave offense ✨️personally✨️ and wrote this lil piece! Though I can't really call it little because it is SHOCKINGLY long (for me) and I sacrificed hours upon hours of sleep 🥲 But hey, when Phil fucking Callahan (and his gorgeous actor John Reynolds) makes you horny and inspired, YOU👏SEIZE👏THE👏GODDAMN👏MOMENT👏

If it isn't already obvious, this fic contains 18+ SMUT AND MATURE CONTENT and it gets preeetty steamy if I do say so myself~ It's also set roughly around Season 2, and I say roughly cuz I suck at remembering plots and shit so I just went with the flow 😅 And as always, PLEASE don't be a silent reader! Likes, comments, and reblogs are VERY much encouraged and appreciated!! \(^o^)/

I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing this baby! This is my first ever humble contribution to the ST fandom and, who knows, MAYBE not my last ;)

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In the small town of Hawkins, you were popular as the "bad girl". You were loud, headstrong, and constantly got into trouble--completely unlike any of the "proper" ladies that talked shit behind your back. But the trouble you caused, despite the chaos it unfailingly left behind, was never anything actually hurtful. Hell, you were even caught a few times using your colourful language to make some middle school children cry when you saw them bullying some poor boys (one of them, you remember, being the Wheelers' son who always looked like trouble followed him himself).

A bad girl with a golden heart; a cheesy, living cliché. But that's what you were. You just wanted to have fun, to live in the moment. But in this bumfuck town where pretty much nothing happens before that Byers kid mysteriously disappeared then reappeared, how could anyone really blame you for trying to stir shit up simply for your own entertainment and for your damn sanity?

But some of the locals knew you on a personal level. Particularly, the Hawkins Police Department. Before you stumbled upon Hawkins a few years ago, you were a drifter; chasing after the high of wherever life would take you, free yet lost. Whether it was by chance or by fate, you only stopped at Hawkins to fuel up your motorcycle and have a quick bite at the local diner until suddenly--like something out of those fucking romcoms your mother used to watch--you met him.

Phil Callahan. He was only a rookie officer at the time, having not even grown out his beloved moustache yet. You noticed his police cruiser parked at the gas station with an evident bump on the front of the car. He was fuelling up, but his hand holding the pump was limp and he was as pale as a ghost; eyes comically wide behind his horn-rimmed glasses, brunette locks tousled and sticking out every which way after frantically running his free hand through it god knows how many times.

And staring at this clearly stressed, slightly pathetic man, all you could think was: HOT.

Before your brain could process what you were doing (though, let's be honest, you never really used your brain much in most of your life decisions), you found your feet walking away from your bike of their own accord and towards him.

Once you were by his side, it's only then that you realized just how tall he was. So much taller. He easily towered over you and it made your mind drift to other, much less innocent thoughts.

Namely him bending you over his car and fucking you within an inch of your sorry excuse of a life.

"Can I help you?" Your head snapped up from the stranger's voice, eyes meeting his narrowed ones. And--dammit!--he was much more unfairly handsome up close. His light brown eyes reflected almost green, raising a suspicious brow at you as his lips pressed into a tight line.

"Sorry, Officer--" Your gaze strayed to his shiny name tag, a grin tugging up the corners of your mouth. "--Callahan. I just couldn't help but notice you. You look like you just died inside, man."

His brows furrowed, glancing over his shoulder to the bump on his car before quickly darting back to you. "Thanks for your concern, ma'am, but I'm fine. Nothing a civilian should be worried about, anyway."

"If you don't mind--" You piped up once more as he set the pump away. "I think it's got something to do with that nasty bump ya got there, huh?"

"Uh, okay, actually I do mind." He sighed exasperatedly, no longer able to hide his growing aggravation. Today was just not his day, it seemed. "Ma'am, like I said, it is none of your concern." He put on his police hat, tipping it to you. "Good day."

As he turned away from you, you sidestepped him so that you were in front of him again. Your grin was much bigger this time, practically reaching your ears. "Uh-oh, are you in trouble, Mr. Policeman~?" You purred, one hand reaching out and playfully drumming your fingers along his chest. You intently studied him from head to toe, as if admiring an artistic masterpiece before biting your lip and giggling. "Lemme guess... You're a young, new police officer who doesn't know any better. You got so excited driving a police car for the first time that you drove it a bit too fast and crashed into a tree or some shit. Sound about right?"

His face flushed scarlet, and you weren't sure if it was from the shame of having his dumbass misdemeanor exposed or from your fingers making a shiver run down his spine--probably both.

"How do you--"

"This ain't exactly my first time having a lil run-in with the law, so I know how men like you work." You winked. "Hey, tell ya what, how 'bout I help you? You can tell your other piggy buddies that I'm some crazy bitch with anger issues you caught for speeding and in my oh so scary rage, I purposely crashed my motorbike to the front of your car just to fuck with you. You can even put cuffs on me~"

He blinked, utterly dumbstruck as he stared down at the total menace that was you (and the fact that a certain part of him reacted at you graciously allowing him to cuff you), feeling like forever until he finally found his voice that cracked slightly as he spoke. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Y/N L/N." You hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you leaned up on your tiptoes and dangled slightly off of him with the few inches left between the two of you. The sudden action caught him completely off guard, his hands dropping to your hips to support you and making him blush even redder. But you didn't care, smiling mischievously up at him. "Feel free to search me up in the system, Officer. I've got a permanent record, after all~"

And that's how you met Jim Hopper, Calvin Powell, and the rest of the Hawkins Police Department when Callahan brought you with him back to the station. They definitely didn't believe you guys, especially when you didn't have a single scratch on you that indicated you "crashed your bike to his vehicle" (Callahan cleaned up your choice of wording a bit). But it was amusing to see Callahan dragging you along in handcuffs, who appeared all too joyful with a shit-eating smile as if you just won the lottery. Meanwhile, Callahan's cheeks were flaming hot and his voice adopted to a nervous high pitch as he lied to everyone who were just barely containing their laughter.

It also wasn't long before you decided to settle into Hawkins in some shitty trailer park, but you couldn't really complain considering your drifting years weren't all sunshine and rainbows either.

Besides, Callahan made it all worth it.

It wasn't love at first sight, but there was absolutely attraction. Hell, you were practically (if not literally) throwing yourself at him during your first encounter, and after that it would be the same--if not more intense.

You were no stranger to trouble, but often times you would seek for trouble yourself on purpose just so you could wind up in the police station to bother--ahem, I mean, very persistently try to hang out with Callahan. Or you'd just go to the station despite having no business there, but Flo the secretary usually kicked you out before you had the chance to even lay eyes on the gorgeous four eyes.

Today, however, Flo wasn't there. You didn't believe in some higher power, but it was a fucking miracle that you were grateful for and didn't dare to question. And so you more than happily made yourself at home in the station, sitting down at Callahan's desk as you curiously pried into his stuff before a deep laugh from behind you broke you out of your little reverie.

"This is just ridiculous now, Y/N." Hopper shot you an incredulous though very much amused expression. "If you like Callahan so much--which I have no fucking idea why--then just ask him out on a date already."

It was no secret that Hopper can be a total grump, but oddly enough you became fast friends with him. He never gave you a hard time and you never bullshitted him, which in turn formed a weird sort of respect between the two of you.

You rolled your eyes at the huge man, turning back to Callahan's desk and inspecting his assortment of pens--which you thought was way too much and he probably doesn't even use all of them, but that only amped up his dorkish charm to you by, like, a thousand.

"You're one to talk, Hop." You scoffed, snatching a pen and beginning to click it continuously. "I bet your hand's tired from jerking off to Joyce Byers."

Hopper scowled, but a faint rosiness dusted his cheeks. "Okay, first off--" Click. "I do not jerk off to Joyce--" Click. "and unlike you--" Click. "I actually have the balls to ask her out--" Click. "she just hasn't--" Click. "WILL YOU STOP FUCKING CLICKING THAT GODDAMN PEN?!"

You didn't even flinch, casually stashing the pen away in your pocket before you stood and faced him. "Enough about you." You huffed, crossing your arms as your eyes levelled with his. Hopper may as well be a living brick wall walking around ready to punch whoever crossed him, but you were never intimidated by the chief of police whom you've admittedly grown a soft spot for. "Callahan on for patrol duty tonight?"

"Yeah, and you owe me big time." He frowned when you blatantly ignored him, but what was new? "I need as much manpower as I can get to investigate what the hell's going on with the pumpkin patches yet here I am, like a fucking idiot, helping to set you and Callahan up."

"You looove me~" You teased, patting his shoulder and granting him a Cheshire Cat-like grin. "This is all for a good cause, big guy. And just think, the sooner Callahan and I get together, the faster I'll be outta your hair!" You chuckled. "And hey, you're thinking too much into those pumpkin patches. Probably just some pumpkin farmers having a pumpkin war. Go big or gourd home, am I right?"

Hopper watched as you laughed obnoxiously loud at your stupid pun, looking so proud of yourself as little snorts wracked your smaller frame and your shoulders shook from sheer glee. He shook his head, sighing heavily to himself.

"God, I actually feel kinda bad for Callahan..."

•••♡•••

Night couldn't fall any quicker, but once it finally did your entire body was practically bursting with excitement like a child who's about to go out for trick or treating.

You hopped onto your bike, revving up the engine and driving even more maniacally than your Munson neighbour did out of the trailer park. You didn't even keep track anymore of how fast you were going, your hair flying as you raced down the road and were greeted by Halloween decorations strewn about in various houses' lawns.

A few minutes later, you found yourself on the empty road leading out of Hawkins. And just as you predicted--had hoped--the shrill blare of a siren sliced through the air and the all too familiar red and blue lights nearly blinded your vision as a police cruiser followed close on your tail.

You couldn't suppress the giddy grin that tore across your face, slowing down by the side of the road and the car pulling up next to you.

The butterflies in your stomach were doing fucking somersaults now as you heard the car door open and shut close, boots thudding on the ground as your favourite officer approached.

"Well, well, well... Lookie who we have here~?" The singsong voice made your grin widen even more if it was possible, making your cheeks hurt. The beam from a flashlight hit your eyes, and once your sight adjusted there was none other than Callahan, staring down at you with his pretty brown eyes. "If it isn't Lil Miss Trouble."

"Cally!" You giggled like some lovesick schoolgirl, and if we were being honest, you pretty much acted like you are. "Fancy seeing you here~ Halloween ain't 'til tomorrow, so why are ya out on patrol?"

"Beats me." He shrugged. "The chief suddenly put me on duty. Also, you know how much I hate that nickname." He grimaced, turning the flashlight off. It was quite dark, but you could still see him well enough due to a lone street lamp a couple feet away. "Get off."

His sudden commanding tone sent a shiver down your spine, a certain part of you getting wet. And it didn't help that you decided to forgo panties, your slick coating the seat of your bike. You then jumped off, your breasts bouncing slightly. This action didn't go unnoticed by him, his eyes dropping to your chest and trailing down your figure until his gaze landed on your skirt--if it could even be called that.

You were wearing a leather mini skirt that left little to the imagination, hugging your curves just right and showing off your thighs. He thought that if you made one wrong move, you'd flash him your panties; of course, not knowing you weren't even wearing any.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love your moustache?" You purred, heart leaping when he went speechless and his mouth hung agape.

His eyes flicked back up to meet yours, snapping out of his trance. "Only the first hundred times." He then cleared his throat, pointing an accusatory finger at you with a hand placed on his hip like a parent scolding their child. "Flattery won't work on me, Y/N. Do you know how fast you were going? And why weren't you wearing a helmet?"

"I know I was going pretty fucking fast!" You guffawed. "As for not wearing a helmet, well, what can I say? I don't like feeling restricted. I like being free. If I could, I'd totally go naked."

You saw his Adam's apple bob as he gulped at your emphasis of "naked", a death grip on his flashlight as his jaw squared. "That's public indecency." He stated simply. He was getting better dealing with you, but the ever so slight crack in his voice was a telltale sign that you still very much had an intoxicating, beguiling effect on him. "And where the hell were you going? Were you...leaving Hawkins?"

You didn't miss the plaintive way he had asked the question, your heart melting. He cared for you. No matter how much trouble you caused everyone, caused him... He would still check up on you, and you even caught him several times keeping watch outside of your trailer when Will Byers went missing a year ago. He claimed that the police were patrolling every nook and cranny after the kid's disappearance, but you never saw Hopper or anyone else guarding other people's homes like how Callahan did yours.

"I'm not leaving, Phil." You breathed out, nothing more than a whisper as you looked up at him; serious, for once. Because as boring as this town was, you've grown fond of it. And Callahan played a big part in that and even if you weren't together, he was the closest to home that you've ever felt in a long fucking time.

He searched your face for any lies, brown eyes soft before a genuine smile graced his features. "You better not, Lil Miss Trouble." A beat passed between the two of you, breaths mingling together and you only just realized how close you both were standing to each other. He had you caged against your bike, and you had to strain your neck just to be eye level with the tall man.

Then something in his expression shifted, and soon he was drawing away from you. "W-Well, I'm gonna let you off with a warning. Just this once, though! Think of it as thanks for that time--" You cut off his rambling when you reached out, grabbing his hand.

"I didn't leave." You declared, an almost pleading tone in your voice. "So don't leave either, Phil."

For what felt like a dreadful eternity, you were swallowed by a deafening silence. You, who was usually so confident, found your will breaking with each passing second. Your grasp softened until you let go, feeling your heart sink to your stomach.

"...Forget it. Thanks, Cal--" But you couldn't finish; because in a blink of an eye, his lips were on yours. It was brief, feather light. But the chaste peck made your heart explode, and you didn't even question if this was just one of your silly fantasies. It felt too real--too good.

He slowly pulled away, resting his forehead against yours and his warm breath tickling your nose. "I'm not leaving." He murmured, such beautiful, sincere greenish brown eyes locking with yours. "I'm not leaving you, Y/N."

You felt tears prickle your eyes, but before you would ever allow them to fall you wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled your nose with his. "Then prove it." And you crashed your lips with his, this time fiercely, passionately. You felt the rough brush of his moustache, but that only made everything feel astoundingly better.

He finally closed the gap between you two, looming over you, the flashlight clattering to the ground as his much larger hands clutched on to your hips before he easily lifted you and plopped you down on your bike's seat. You wrapped your legs around his waist, nipping on his bottom lip that elicited a gasp from him which you gladly took as the opportunity to slide your tongue inside his mouth. His tongue tangled with yours and coaxed it into a sensual dance, earning him a most heavenly moan from you.

You two only pulled away for breath, a thin string of saliva connecting your tongues. But his glasses were foggy and tinkly laughter bubbled out of you, feeling like a druggie high off of life--high off of him.

He chuckled, taking his glasses off to wipe them before putting them back on. "Sorry." He smiled sheepishly. "That ruined the moment, didn't it?"

"On the contrary..." You were still laughing, but you held one of his hands still on your hip and guided it lower, lower, lower...until his palm was right on your bare pussy. "You always turn me on, Cal. It's pretty fucking ridiculous, honestly."

His breath hitched sharply when he felt how drenched you were, his pupils dilating and mouth forming an 'O' at the realization that you've been half naked this whole time. He pressed his palm closer to your core, your laughter instantly dying down as his thumb slowly rubbed circles around your clit. One of your hands flew to his hair, something you've always dreamt of doing ever since you saw the incredibly sexy messy state it was in the day you met him. Your other hand clung onto his shirt for dear life, a gasp escaping you as he pinched your nub and began to stroke his fingers along your slit.

He leaned down to your ear, his fingers gradually increasing their pace and you trembled from the pure ecstasy that overcame your senses just from his deft fingers. "You really are a little troublemaker, huh?" He chuckled, voice dropping an octave lower. "You planned this all along, didn't you? Fucking slut..." His lips dragged down your ear to the crook of your neck, biting down and leaving a mark that had you crying out. "My beautiful fucking slut."

"All yours, Officer~" You mewled, your hand latched onto his shirt making its descent to his crotch. You palmed him, feeling his prominent erection aching to spring free as he groaned. "Just be mine, too." You peered down at him, eyes hazy with desire and desperation. "Pretty please?"

"I think I've been yours ever since we met. Not like I had a choice on the matter, anyway." He snickered before capturing your lips once more in a sultry, intimate kiss. Your mouth moved in perfect tandem with his, but you both took your sweet time as everything else faded away. There was only you and Callahan, Callahan and you. And it's all you ever fucking wanted; all you needed.

Not breaking the kiss, you shucked your leather jacket off and carelessly tossed it to the ground. Your hands came up to cup the sides of his face, fingers caressing him tenderly while his hands crawled beneath your white tank top; imagine his pleasant surprise to discover that you didn't wear a bra either.

"Jesus..." He muttered, yanking your tank top up before kneading and squeezing your perfect breasts as his lascivious gaze met your own. "You're gonna kill a fucking cop here." He grunted, making you giggle which immediately turned into an elated whimper as he tweaked your pert nipples.

"Get down. Turn around. Ass up." He ordered, and you didn't at all hesitate to obey. In your haste, you nearly tumbled off of your bike though Callahan steadied you. "Eager, are we, Y/N?" He chuckled, but something about the way your name smoothly, seductively rolled off his tongue had you wanting to fall down on your knees and reverently suck him off instead. But you didn't dare disobey, spinning around with your back to him and bending over your bike.

Though something dropped to the ground as you bent over, making Callahan arch a brow as he picked it up.

"My pen?" He scoffed, and though you can't see him, you can feel his disapproving stare boring into the back of your head like daggers. "Naughty girl, now you're stealing? Tsk, tsk." He flipped up your skirt, your ass now in full view as he licked his lips. His hands groped the pillowy soft flesh, releasing a low whistle of appreciation as he squeezed before suddenly raising his hand and spanking you.

"Ah..!" You exclaimed, looking over your shoulder with glazed eyes and flushed cheeks. "M'sorry, Officer~"

Smack! Another slap had you reeling in the best way possible, your pussy clenching at--unfortunately--nothing as you whimpered.

"Uh-uh. Didn't say you could look at me, did I, naughty girl?" He chided, seeing that you were wiggling your ass and trying to inch closer to him.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Three slaps, one right after the other. Your flesh glowed red with his handprint, making him smirk devilishly.

"M'sorry..." You said again, your voice coming out as a meek squeak. But more. You wanted more, more, more. "I'm a good girl, I promise!"

"I'm sure you are~" He hummed leisurely. "Just gotta prove it to me, right, baby?"

Before you had any chance to reply, he prodded your legs apart with his knee and his pants unzipping sounded like the most divine music to your ears. Both of your breaths got caught in your throats as the tip of his cock pressed against your pussy, stroking up and down your entrance slowly, teasingly. Your lustful impatience getting the best of you because, fuck, you deserved this, you were just about to slide down onto him when he suddenly pushed his entire cock in with no warning.

And fuck he was big. Much bigger than you ever fantasized, completely stretching you out as a long moan was drawn out of you and your upper body fell like a ragdoll on your bike. You vaguely heard him laughing huskily before he started to move; carefully, as if he was afraid you might break.

But with you? That didn't last very long, any pathetic thread of patience he had snapping as soon his thrusts started to become rapid, hard, wild--hitting that amazing spot deep inside your gummy walls over and over again, the lewd squelches of his cock slipping in and out of your pussy perfectly harmonizing with skin slapping against skin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..!" You screamed, toes curling and grinding your ass in time with his thrusts as he watched, utterly transfixed, with how you seemed to just fit him like a puzzle piece; the fucking addicting way you slammed back down onto him, your skin rolling with each bounce, your pussy clenching his cock like a goddamn vice and effortlessly accepting all of him.

He then wrapped a hand around your neck, squeezing just enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head before pulling you up so that you were standing and your back was pressed against his chest. He nuzzled his face just beneath your ear, hot pants grazing your skin as he never seized his pleasurable assault to your cunt as he continued to pound relentlessly into you like a beast in heat.

Suddenly, he pressed his pen to your clit. Your eyes widened as you felt the long, thin object rubbing against your sensitive mound, stroking and poking at your folds as his cock drove in and out, in and out.

"Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?" He whispered, planting butterfly kisses along the delicate column between your neck and shoulder, his grip on your neck tightening ever so slightly as he humped against you.

"Y-Yes, fuck, yes Officer..!" You choked out, rocking your hips desperately as you could almost see stars.

"Then cum, Y/N."

And you did; your walls fluttered and clamped down on his dick, your body stilling and eyes crossing as waves of the highest rapture coursed throughout your body. Callahan soon followed, a nearly animalistic groan accompanying the spurts of cum that gushed into your deepest, most intimate part as his hips stuttered to a halt.

You basked in silence, revelling in the satisfying afterglow. Then, agonizingly slowly, his twitching cock slid out of you, making you convulse and you could feel the hot cum trickling down your legs. He spun you around and gently grabbed your chin, tipping it up and examining your completely fucked out expression. You stuck your tongue out, and he didn't waste a precious moment as he leaned down and entwined your tongue with his. He held you closely, securely; hugging you to his broad chest as he stepped backwards until his back bumped into his car to support the both of you.

You were the first to pull away from the sloppy liplock, laying your head on his chest and sighing deeply. "That was..." You looked up at him, blinking dazedly. "...not what I expected."

"Did you not have fun?" He chuckled, though there was a hint of worry in his voice as his thumb lazily caressed your swollen bottom lip, kind brown eyes seeking yours. Shit, did he overdo it? Or worse... Did you realize that you actually weren't that into him?

"I did, it's just..." You trailed off before a giggle erupted out of you, shaking your head. "Y'know, the first time we met, I actually thought of you bending me over your car and fucking me. I never imagined I'd be bent over my bike."

"For fuck's sake, Y/N, you really are gonna be the death of me!" He whined dramatically, making you laugh and soon he joined you.

"So..." You grinned, fixing his glasses that had fallen to the bridge of his nose and running a hand through his sweaty, unruly curls that you loved too fucking much. "Was I a good girl, Cally~?"

"The fucking best." He returned your euphoric grin, booping your nose and, though he'd never admit it, he actually liked your nickname. Just for him, only by you. "Buuut you're a good girl that's coming back to the station with me."

"Huh? But I thought you're gonna let me off the hook for speeding?" You questioned, confused.

"I am, but you're forgetting your other crimes." He cleared his throat, rising to his full height and looming over you yet again. "Public indecency..." He traced his pen on your pussy, making you shudder as the cold metal glided across your skin up to the valley between your breasts. "...and theft."

"Well, Officer, if that's the case then you're not innocent either~" You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck and dangling off of him much like you did the first time. "You stole my heart, after all~"

His face was as red as a tomato, smiling like a doofus as he hooked his hands under your plush thighs, hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. Taking you by surprise, but definitely not unwelcomed as he stared up at you with a stupidly smitten expression.

"We're partners in crime, then, Lil Miss Trouble~"

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things Smut #Phil Callahan #Officer Callahan #Phil Callahan Smut #Officer Callahan Smut #Phil Callahan x Reader #Officer Callahan x Reader #Phil Callahan x Reader Smut #Officer Callahan x Reader Smut #Reader x Phil Callahan #Reader x Officer Callahan #Reader x Phil Callahan Smut #Reader x Officer Callahan Smut

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girlymatsu · 8 months

Note

20? (First kiss)

WAAHH OK I had this partly written out a while ago and just decided to finish it for this prompt.. it’s a little bit of a downer in the beginning, hope it’s good!

“I mean… firsts aren’t too big of a deal! My first kiss wasn’t anything special at all!”

Erina waves her hand around, trying to casually comfort Osomatsu as he’s going through a childish drunken rant. They sit at a ramen bar and Erina is smiling at Osomatsu’s grumpy face leaning on his arms on the counter.

Silly Osomatsu waves his can of beer around lazily and in a bitter fashion, “Feh! Only popular socialites actually say that kinda stuff as a way to humble brag about all their experience— Have more pity on us little folk please!” Dramatically putting a hand on his chest as he laments.

“But it’s not like I’m popular or have that much experience really!” She really doesn’t, it’s really sad!

Osomatsu pouts. “You can’t say that when you’ve k-k-kissed before! Agh! Saying it is like damage inducing for virgins!” He leans so far back like he’s gonna fall over.

She playfully shoves him again for being so silly and dramatic.

“Noo really— It’s actually been so long, I don’t think it counts anymore!”

“Then who was your first kiss then huh Erina-Chan? An old boyfriend?” He squints at her with his brows furrowed leaning in close it makes her blush.

Erina gives a bit of an awkward smile as she’s fidgeting with her earring. Normally she wouldn’t talk about this to remain a little mysterious, but she wants to be honest with Osomatsu a little more. Let him in a little bit because she secretly does want him to be closer. “No! Nono haha— not at all, I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and we weren’t together for very long, and we never kissed on the lips either..”

“Haah? who could you have kissed other than your boyfriend huh? Your friends? Randos?! Guys for money?!”

Erina widens her eyes and gives him an exasperated look, “Nonono!! Do you think I’m such a wild bad girl Osomatsu?” She tries to smile like she can take a joke, playfully shoving him like it didn’t hurt her at all that he would think that.

She might’ve been lucky or unlucky that Osomatsu couldn’t see her true emotions, he laughs off her reaction but she feels her fragile heart rattle a little. Does Osomatsu think she gets around often? Would it matter if she did? Does he think she’s so wild and alien like his brothers do and feel uncomfortable around her?

Erina sips at her drink even though she dislikes the taste of this beer, but it’s the one Ochomachu likes. They go their seperate ways amicably afterwards. Once becoming alone the noise in her head starts to come back.

When she had her first kiss, she was too little and naive to know better. Then when she grew up, she became an attention starved little monster. Maybe people would like her more if she was truly more pure-hearted. She walks along the road not realizing where she was going until she suddenly ended up home, just repeating “I’m not a bad girl… I��m not a bad girl…”

—

“Teach me how to kiss.”

“H-huh?”

The next day Osomatsu dropped in at her apartment without a prior notice. Erina sheepishly let him in, but she was just in her pajamas and didn’t have any makeup on. He takes up a lot of space on her small loveseat couch, their knees touch.

Osomatsu clears his throat, and he puts on a comically serious face. Erina doesn’t feel like he’s actually trying to make the mood less tense with his funny intense eyes.

“I need to kiss. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it the last time we talked about it— I’m kind of embarrassed to not have that experience at my age— As the eldest I have to be the first to kiss and hold hands with a girl!“ Osomatsu’s straight face breaks into a whine and shakes her shoulders. “You’re the only one I can count on Erina-chan!”

Erina can feel her whole face get warm and she feels so small when he towers over her like this. Small in a way she can’t help but like as a small animal.

“Ah… okay..! I’ll help you Osomatsu-kun..!”

It feels so warm…

Erina doesn’t remember her lips be this sensitive and tingly before. It’s so awkward, puckering and smacking her lips against his for longer than intended. She was so lost in the sensation that she forgot it was probably her job as the teacher to pull away. She can feel Osomatsu’s face all tense, and nervously she slowly backs up from him, guilty for losing herself in it.

Osomatsu’s eyes were still open, staring hard back at her when she opened her own eyes. Her face flushed even harder, “Was that okay..?”

Osomatsu opened his mouth to take a breath, it seems he wasn’t breathing that whole time. His gaze was unnerving and his lips quivering. Erina almost asks if something was wrong before he blurts out, “Again.”

“Again?”

She could barely reply more before his lips chase after hers again. Then it turned again, and again. Osomatsu was going to make sure Erina teaches him everything.

#osofic #asks #I didn’t proof read it all that much so oops

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alfi-always-writes · 1 year

Note

37 with the disaster twins!!!

Do Your Worst

Summary: Donnie has taken a page out of Leo's book.

Author's note: Thank you for the prompt, anon! I will never ever ever get sick of the disaster twins :) (btw if you saw me post this before I changed its ridiculous name, no you didn't)

Warnings: Just tickling, so please keep scrolling if you ain't about that.

Word count: 1,177

37. "I didn’t hear a 'stop'..."

Donnie had been like this the whole day. From the minute he left his room, he was jabbing his brothers with cutting burns and sharing not-so-humble brags about anything he could. One might say that he woke up on the right side of the bed today.

But Leo would call it a blatant display of mockery. The way Donnie rested his arm on Leo's shoulder, knocking his breakfast out of his hand and onto the floor. Or the way he deliberately seemed to push Leo's buttons. Ultimately, it was the one-liners that solidified in Leo's mind that his twin was making fun of him.

"Can you guys believe him?" Leo said to no one in particular. He dropped down into the blue beanbag chair in the TV room, opening his comic book with an annoyed snap.

"He seems to be in a good mood," Raph said, "If you ask me, I think you might be rubbing off on him."

"But I'm nowhere near as annoying, right?!"

Silence filled the room, followed by Raph's not-so-subtly-awkward whistling.

"Riiight," Mikey said slowly, standing from his seat and stretching. Before Leo could complain further, he added, "Raph and I are going to pick up pizza, wanna come?"

Leo stubbornly pulled the comic closer to his face and huffed. "No, apparently everyone thinks I'm annoying," he said dejectedly, "Just don't take too long. He's one insult away from being portaled to a different galaxy."

Mikey and Raph bid him farewell and headed for the surface, leaving Leo in his bubble of peace. Water rushed below the floor grate, bringing a constant, calming sound that lulled him into precious relaxation. Not long after he finally settled in, the comic book was snatched out of his fingers with a swish. Leo fixed Donnie with a glare that read one word: murder.

"What is your deal today, weirdo?" Leo asked, ripping the comic book out of Donnie's hands. He opened it back up to the page he had been reading, but still gave his twin a quizzical look.

Donnie smirked at Leo's annoyed expression. "Whatever could you be talking about?"

"What are you trying to do? Give me a taste of my own medicine?"

Donnie smirked, knowing he was totally getting on Leo's nerves now. "My dear, dull brother, I have no idea what you are alluding to."

"You're acting weird. And I don't know what you're trying to prove, but I'm nowhere near this annoying," Leo said indignantly, crossing his arms.

"Oho Nardo, you wouldn't last a single day as your own brother," Donnie said while delivering a well-placed flick to Leo's forehead, right above his left eye. The final straw.

He launched himself at Donnie, tackling him onto the ground. The battle for the upper hand was short-lived, and Donnie was pinned beneath his twin in seconds. Of course, it didn't help that a steady stream of giggles was already tumbling past Donnie's lips, sapping his strength.

Leo paused; Donnie's hands were now pinned on either side of the brainiac's head. "What's so funny?"

"N-Nothing," Donnie lied quickly, trying and failing to cage the bubbly laughter. However, it didn't go unnoticed that his haughty, bothersome façade disappeared as soon as he hit the ground.

Leo flipped Donnie's goggles down and got off of him, returning to his seat on the beanbag chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Donnie sit up slowly, eyes downcast. He almost looked... disappointed?

"That's the worst you got?" he asked, fixing his goggles.

Leo connected the dots and it was so obvious now, he couldn't believe he didn't catch on sooner. Donnie's behavior was a tried-and-true method that Leo himself used to antagonize his brothers. It always ended in the same desired outcome whenever Leo did it. Of course, how could he miss all of the signs?

Almost as quickly as he sat down, he was up again, looming over his brother with a smirk. "DonTon, I think you and I both know I can do far worse."

The genius shrank away from Leo with a nervous grin etched across his face. Though he knew he was already in for it, he couldn't help but dig the hole just a tiny bit deeper. "That's true, you always do the worst, dum dum. At everything."

Leo shoved him back down and pinned his arms again, much more easily gathering both wrists in one hand this time. Donnie's anticipatory giggles filled the room as he weakly pulled at his trapped wrists.

"Prepare to, what was it? Oh, eateth my words or whatever!" Leo raised one hand, wiggling his fingers in front of Donnie's face before bringing it close to the giggly twin's exposed underarm. What little resolve Donnie had went out the window as laughter burst forth almost immediately. Squeezing his eyes shut, he braced himself for the exact thing he had been after all day.

He wasn't prepared for Leo's hand to touchdown on his plastron and, though it wasn't a particularly bad spot, the unexpected attack made his laughter shoot up an octave.

"What's wrong, Don?" Leo asked, spidering his fingers up Donnie's side with one hand, the other hand reaching back to squeeze his thigh.

"I-Ihihihit—AHAHA!"

"It what?"

"Shuhuhut—"

"Does it tickle?"

"LEOHOHO!"

"Just tell me what's wrong and I'll help!" Before his brother could respond, Leo shoved his hands under Donnie's arms. Peals of hysterical laughter filled the air, so loud that Leo almost didn't believe it could belong to his usually reserved brother.

Though his arms were free now, Donnie could only weakly grab Leo's arms, not hindering or helping in any way. The electric, tickly sensations piloted his brain, shutting down all rational thought and coordination.

"PLEHEHEHEASE! I CAHAN'T—NAHAHARDOHO!" Donnie screamed, digging his heels into the ground. He succeeded in kneeing Leo in the shell a few times, but not hard enough to make a difference. The only thing his struggling did was fuel Leo's insufferable teasing.

"You 'can't' what? You can't stop me from tickling you? That's so true. You've practically been asking for this, Donnie."

Donnie was going to lose his mind, torn between how unbearable the sensation was and how much he didn't want it to stop. The final sliver of rational thought he had left was acutely aware that Leo was tickling him far longer than usual, which he was grateful for. In fact, he didn't feel Leo retract his hands until Donnie's laughter turned to a silent, open-mouthed smile.

"You okay?" Leo asked, laughing along with Donnie's residual giggles.

Donnie nodded and gulped in air, trying to keep an even tone as he spoke. "You... jerk. Don't do that ever again."

Leo chuckled and held up his hands in defense. "Hey, I didn’t hear a 'stop'..."

Donnie's face grew redder as he shut his mouth and landed a lackluster punch to Leo's arm, which only made Leo laugh harder.

Despite the apparent annoyance, Leo didn't miss the permanent grin pulling at Donnie's mouth. Oh yeah, he was never letting Donnie live this down.

#my writing #sfw tickle fic #sfw tickling community #rottmnt tickle fic #ticklish!donnie #disaster twins have my whole entire heart #these idiots? my favorite

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grandmanightmarerealm · 6 months

Note

Please infodump at me about dyslexia and its assorted related disorders.

Okay, so right off the bat, a disclaimer: I personally am not dyslexic. I do have ADHD, but I haven't personally struggled with dyslexia, dysgraphia, etc.

My partner (M, 30) was diagnosed young, like pre-k or kindergarten. Writing his name was a huge struggle and he often spelled it in a way that looked like a different name. His mother also has dyslexia and was able to get him help via Special Education programs, which he DESPISED.

Eventually even with help, he was barely able to finish homework and began to refuse to do it. Teachers at his school were very cruel to him, often calling him stupid, lazy, "not applying himself", etc.

Physical activities came naturally to him. He excelled in art, woodshop, ceramics, and karate. Reading anything, for class or for fun, stopped and when he had to read aloud, was humiliating. Teachers sometimes forced him to read aloud more often, hoping to humble him into working harder. When his grades declined sharply, he stopped trying all together and ended up falling into using drugs and alcohol at only 11 years old. When he finally graduated high school, it was by the skin of his teeth and really only was pushed through because of a flaw with the schools budget, which he then blackmailed the school with. Not really his proudest moment, but it happened. Obviously, the majority of his issues came from the school system failing him. Teachers were ill-prepared to deal with his learning disability, or outright vicious, basically weaponized incompetence.

When we met, I was in school for Early Childhood Education (which I didn't end up completing, teaching has rather lost its luster for me) and I noticed how embarrassed he was when attempting to sign his name or write pretty much anything. I asked if he'd be willing to let me help him practice, and eventually, he did.

As a 23 year old, re-learning how to write was really embarrassing for him, but I was patient and didn't criticize. I helped him find a place where he could laugh at himself and his spelling mistakes, not feel shame in it. We literally got a handwriting book from the dollar tree, and I dotted together the alphabet so he could trace it over and over. He still won't be doing calligraphy anytime soon, but his writing is legible now, and that's what matters.

He's failed out of a lot of college programs. He ends up taking on too much and is put on probation, then on academic suspension. He then appeals it, and the cycle starts again. His latest run is the most successful; CNC Engineering. He works with his hands and with computer programs. One of the things that has helped so much is having a study partner. He really struggles with reading comprehension, and when the letters constantly seem to move or change, it's even harder. When he has chapters to read for class, he will often have me read with him or sometimes to him, so he can visualize the material instead of concentrating so hard on what each word means.

He's also started reading for fun, which is a HUGE step for him. He loves Star Wars, and I had a set of junior novels about Anakin Skywalker as a padawan, which I offered to him. They're short, less condensed than a regular novel, and align with his interests, so it made for a much more enjoyable experience. He reads every night before bed now!

Generally, something like an IEP (Individualized Educational Plan) will be figured out for grade/high school, but when you are in college, that no longer applies. However, most colleges will have a department that can help with accommodations needed for classes. This can include an array of options, from tutoring and extensions to large-print textbooks or audio-visual adaptive equipment.

Side note to wrap this up, people often shit all over Comic Sans as a font, but the stylization actually can make it much easier for people with dyslexia to absorb! I encourage my partner to use comic sans when writing a paper, so he can find mistakes easier and then selecting a new font when he's finished.

Basically, patience and encouragement is key.

#dyslexia #dysgraphia #learning disabilities

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live-from-flaturn · 9 months

Note

I humbly request The Great Halloween Tranq Dart Incident with the prettiest of pleases.

For those of you wondering "wtf does this mean?" please check out This KimChay Prompt Fill for context!

tw: tranquilizer dart/symptoms of sedative

wordcount: 1k

Title: "Where is the Batman?"

“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” Kim asks, gesturing at his eldest brother’s three bodyguards. Pol, Arm, and Pete are wearing color-coded outfits complete with short capes and matching witches hats.

Pol does a little spin to show off his spring-green suit and the vines wrapped around the base of his hat. “I’m Fauna!”

“I’m Flora,” Pete waves. His burnt orange ensemble is an exact copy of Pol’s except for his hat, which is covered in pink and orange flowers.

Arm does some of the least enthusiastic jazz-hands Chay has ever seen, his blue cape fluttering slightly as a result. “And I’m Merryweather.”

“AND I’M PRINCE PHILIP!” Tankhun announces, strutting down the hallway in a pair of enormously puffy sleeves and tailored slacks. “They’re the three good fairies.”

Pol elbows Pete. “There’s a joke in there somewhere.”

“Hey!”

“Well it’s true,” Arm adds.

Tankhun shushes them and turns to Kim and Chay. “You two look amazing, by the way!”

“Thanks,” Chay grins. Kim is ninety-nine-percent sure his boyfriend is blushing furiously under his cowl. It’s Porchay, for fuck’s sake. “Kim helped me with the makeup.”

“I like your mask,” Pete says. “You’re supposed to be Anne Hathaway’s version of Catwoman, right?”

Kim nods his assent. “It’s custom.”

“And he helped pick out this awesome Batman outfit!” Chay pipes, holding out the edges of his cape like the original comic logo. Kim stifles an indulgent smile – these costumes had technically been his suggestion, after all. He hadn’t wanted to state out loud that he’d been paying close attention to Chay’s new advantage in height, but that didn’t stop it from being true. “Isn’t the cape sweet?!”

“Super sweet,” Pol agreed. “Now, shall we head for the ballroom?”

—

Chay leans into his boyfriend’s side and whispers, “I’ve never been to a fancy Halloween party like this before. Will it be scary?”

“No,” Kim shakes his head. “Kinn planned it ‘to be fun’, so you don’t have to worry about business people showing up. It’ll be mostly off-duty bodyguards, staff, friends, and family.”

“Awesome.” Chay is hugely relieved. He follows Prince Tankhun and the three good fairies into the ballroom. Kinn and Porsche approach them.

Chay barely holds back a snort of amusement. “Hia! What are you wearing?!”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Porsche huffs. He tries to cross his arms over his chest, but the gesture is interrupted by his fancy bra (made from two artfully bedazzled shells).

“I’m Batman, and Kim is Catwoman. Isn’t he cute?”

“Meh, he’s alright.” Tankhun floats past the conversation only long enough to add. “He’s got a flat butt.”

“Phi!” Kim hisses, not unlike a cat.

“Sorry not sorry!”

Kinn chuckles and rolls his eyes at Chay, “Brothers, am I right?”

“Totally right, P’Kinn.” Kim and Porsche watch in horror as their boyfriends fist-bump. “So, what’s the pl–”

Chay’s question is cut off by a quiet scuffle near the door. Kinn excuses them both and scoops Porsche into his arms, hurrying to investigate. Kim and Chay stay put, chatting and joking. Everything is normal until Kim jolts forward and slaps a hand over his left ass cheek.

“What the fuck?” Kim lifts his hand to show Chay a small green tube. “Babe, I am so sorry for whatever happens next.”

“P’Kim?!”

“It’s a tranq dart, and my immunity for this isssss,” Kim trails off with a giggle. His eyes glaze over and he slumps more of his weight onto Chay. “Sssssss. That’s a fun sound.”

“Shit!” Kinn jogs over. “Did it hit him?”

“What do you think?” Chay deadpans as Kim continues hissing quietly through his teeth.

“Okay. Right. Let’s get him upstairs.”

“Good idea.”

—

It takes Chay, Kinn, and two of the three good fairies to yank Kim free of his heinously tight pleather outfit. “Next year we’re going to do something less complicated.”

“Do you expect Khun Kim to get tranqued at a Halloween party every year?” Pol jokes.

“Hey!” Kim complains. His eyes roll around the room, searching for one particular face. “Where is the Batman?”

“Hey babe,” Chay steps forward. He’s already swapped into pajamas and wiped (most) of the dark makeup from around his eyes. “I’m here.”

“It’s Bruce Wuce!” Kim exclaims with a theatrical gasp. “I mean Bayne Wayne!”

“Bruce Wayne?” Chay offers. His boyfriend tries to snap his uncoordinated fingers, but mostly they slide uselessly against each other.

“Yeah! That guy.”

“You can just call me Chay,” he offers. Kim pouts adorably up at him and Chay waves the bodyguards out of the room. “Please ask someone to send up green tea and snacks, but otherwise I can handle this.”

“Are you sure, N’Chay?” “Oh yeah,” Chay laughs. “Do you know how many weird things I’ve heard Porsche say on morphine?”

“I want to hear about this,” Pol says. Arm agrees.

“Soon, but not right now.” Chay giggles. “Thanks again for helping me with P’Kim.”

“That’s literally our job.” “Well I appreciate how well you do that job. So there.”

“Ugh, how are you related to Porsche?!”

“Go,” Arm shoved Pol toward the door. “Leave the lovebirds alone.”

“I would be an owl,” Kim declares, startling Chay with his unexpected volume. Arm and Pol stifle laughter, hurriedly shutting the door behind them.

“What would I be?” Chay asks, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. Kim scoots awkwardly closer and squints in concentration.

“Hmmm… A plover.”

“Why?”

“Small.” Kim cups his hands together to demonstrate and thoughtfully adds, “Fluffy. Good at surviving.”

Chay’s throat threatens to close up. Well, it does until Kim speaks again.

“Shoes are dumb and we shouldn’t have to wear them unless it’s for safety reasons.”

“Huh?”

“Slippers are okay, though.”

Chay bursts out laughing, and Kim joins him at a much higher pitch.

Kim falls asleep after tea and a snack, and Chay sits next to him with a smile still pulling at his lips. “Weirdo. Cute, but a weirdo.”

#kimchay #kimchay prompt fill #thank youuuuuu #this was so much fun #kimchay fluff #halloween in august #sedative tw #kim being goofy #kim on drugs

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amomswrites · 7 months

Text

~Chilopodophobia~ (Y/N x Reboot Wally)

(Because this was actually too funny of a concept to not actually write out, i’m sorry. The personal headcanon of Reboot being deathly afraid of centipedes is hilarious as fuck to me and made me laugh harder than it needed to. Change my mind. Boy acts all tough and big around roaches, sure, but god FORBID you give him a fuggin’ centipede.

The following AU belongs to @bloodrediscream -- if it’s asked to be taken down, I will gladly and humbly do so.)

You really thought of Wally as this confident sort of a guy. And, you were pretty much right. He was. Absolutely, and no doubt about it.

When you first moved in next door to him, he had a sort of boyish charm about him that pulled you in, but the real hook of his appeal were those striking lavender hues…they reminded you of a mix between a cat's dreamy-eyed gaze and two hypnotizing amethysts staring straight back into yours.

A pair of eyes that, if you allowed it, you could get lost in.

The call came a little after you'd gotten done cleaning the kitchen, draining the sink of dirty dishwater. You recognized the caller ID as none other than Wally Darling himself, and you scrambled for the small, black flip-phone you called yours.

Drying your hands on the rag you snatched up, you answered the call and the voice on the other end was…not what you expected to greet you. It wasn't the dulcet, deceptively young one that you were used to hearing from Wally. Well, it was…but you were surprised when it was the cocky, slightly flirty one you were so accustomed to.

It was soft and, quite honestly, fucking terrified. You'd never heard anything like it, and you were positive you had the wrong person. Never once in your time in this neighborhood did you peg Wally Darling as someone who would show fear.

The dude was so full of himself and confident, you'd have swore he had the bravado of Lucifer himself…

"Um…heeeeey, neighbor—is this a bad time? I know, unlike me, of all people to need help, right? Anyway…can you possibly come over real quick and help me take care of something…?"

You blinked. Well, this should be good!, you thought to yourself. What could the reboot of Wally Darling be so afraid of that he needed to call you?

“Nah. What’s up? Everything ok, Wall—”

“No! I’m trapped in my bathroom with a goddamn centipede! It’s in the tub, and it’s crawling around and just—eeeeeuugh…can you just come down and kill it, please? Kill, get rid of it, throw it to the abyss, don’t know—don’t care. I’m just trying to do my hair, man.”

At this revelation as to WHY Wally was so frantic…well, you withheld a snort of amusement at this.

He was freaking out…over a little centipede…?

I mean, you understood where he was coming from with it. Those things had so many legs that you swore it came out of a sci-fi movie and whatever Gods that were fucked up or high enough to make it shrunk them down…but it was just so comical coming out of a boy that supposed to confident and show-offy asshole at times.

Now, here Wally was, calling you up to have you get rid of a centipede that he sounded so deathly afraid of. You wanted to laugh at the prospect of the star of the titular reboot being so irrationally afraid of it, like a schoolgirl to a cockroach, but you knew that would be rude and mean as hell to do.

So, you drew a breath to steady yourself and spoke.

But, it wasn’t to simply tell him you’d be over—no, it was to ask one simple question…

“Why couldn’t you call Frank? Aren’t they like, I dunno, THE bug expert? Why did you call me? How do YOU know I'm not afraid of them, hm?”

“Neighbor, PLEASE. Please. Get it out of here! You wouldn’t do this to me, right—?!”

You cackle at the sudden slight panic in his voice, and you hear a huff, absolutely sure he’d be puffing his cheeks at you in annoyance. A funny sight, if you were there to see it. “Relaaaax, Walls. I’m comin’, i’m comin’...give me a moment, won’t’cha?”

“Oh thank you, GOD. I’ll see you then, alright?”

***

As you walk into the house, you’re greeted to the scent of lavender and something distinctively like Wally’s home. It was comforting, like you felt like you were at home the moment you stepped in through the front door. You smiled, taking your shoes off at the mat near his coat-rack (because momma didn't raise no heathen and you were sure that you’d be dealing with a displeased Reboot if you did) and looking for where you thought you remembered his bathroom being.

“Wally…? You here? Wally?”

No response.

“Wally!”

“In here—”

As you passed by a door, there came the other’s voice from behind it and sure as hell, as you opened it: there he was, in a pair of pajama pants and a red t-shirt, with his usual signature light blue, messily coiffed hair even more so an a trainwreck.

He was sitting on his bathroom counter, acting as if the contents of Pandora's box were in that clawfoot bathtub of his. Lavender eyes looked incredibly relieved to see you and the 4'5" puppet seemed to visibly relax at the sight of you walking in that door.

You weren't actually sure how long he'd been up there, to be honest. Though given Wally's typical schedule during the day when he's not on set filming for the newest episodes, he was typically up around this time and likely fixing his hair for the day, because he liked to have a routine at the house outside of work.

And there he was, up on the countertop, screaming over this centipede that probably somehow found a hole in the wall or open window and got in…

"Oh, thank you, God—! I didn't think you'd get here sooner; I'm sorry you have to see this, but I can't STAND a centipede. I'm sorry, I just…can't. So many legs…", he shuddered, watching you give him a smirk before you walked over to the tub.

A small, black creature simply trying to escape the tub and with gentle ease, you scooped it up into your bare hand. Its little legs tickled your palm as it crawled all over, exploring your skin.

You were absolutely certain that Wally was close to vomiting at the sight…

"What is WRONG with you?! Put that DOWN. Neighbor, no. No. Nonono–", Wally gagged, watching as you turned to face him with the creepy-crawly critter in your right hand.

Something about the sight of it seemed to strike an immediate chord in him, and you watched with fascination as the normally so put-together reboot puppet, looked ready to shit his pants and run out of the bathroom and into the street screaming like a madman. He didn't, thank goodness.

But you watched him watch you and the centipede intently, eyes so wide they looked like they might actually fall out of his skull.

"Wally, you can't be serious. What the fuck are you afraid of this little thing for? They're just insects."

"They're HORRIBLE. Why is it so hard to understand that? Just GET that thing out of here!"

"Come on, look at it! Dude, most centipedes are harmless. I've literally stepped on dozens of them in my life. Why are you so upset?"

"I don't want it crawling all over me, is why."

You snorted at that, and he glared back at you at that moment. "Oh, you're a funny guy. But you're acting like it's gonna eat you or something. It's a small little bug, Wally—not like a goddamn snake. Look at it, it's just doing its own thing." You lowered your hand, letting the critter run around for a bit.

It was actually pretty damn cute, but you weren't gonna tell him that.

"Here, look at it. Just. Look at it. You wanna see the centipede, Wally?"

You raised your hand, the centipede now crawling from your palm up onto your fingers, it's little legs tickling the underside of your skin as you watched Wally watch it intently.

"See? They're harmless. It's not gonna eat you."

"Are you kidding? It's creepy and I don't trust it—", he responded, and you let the centipede crawl onto his hand, making him freeze in place.

"Wally, it's not gonna hurt you, dude. Look at it. You can feel it, can't you?"

You watched, amused, as Wally tentatively lifted the creature up with a pair of fingers, his eyes studying the bug with careful intensity. You were sure his heart must have felt like it jumped out of his throat at this point, and you almost felt bad for him.

But you had to admit...it was kind of hilarious that he was so terrified of an insect this small. It was almost as if it came from some alternate dimension, or a parallel universe where he was not the star of a popular puppet show that is all about having fun.

You almost feel like laughing at that moment, but you hold it back, not wanting to be rude. Wally had never done anything to you to make you think he was rude or mean. Or doing it deliberately, you should say. He was a snarky sort of an individual, and had that boyish charm that pulled you in and made you want to stay.

But now? He was terrified of something as small as this, and you weren't exactly sure how to react.

After a solid 10 seconds, likely after the equivalence of a loading screen, you saw his panic and fear resurface. "Okokok, get it away. Get it AWAY!", he shouted, and you felt the centipede crawl into your hand, quickly hopping over to your shoulder. Wally then closed his fingers, eyes wide and heart probably pounding at this point.

"Alright, alright, chillax. I got it."

You laughed then, not able to help yourself, and Wally glared at you, so much so that you actually had to fight back more laughter.

"Oh, fuck YOU, Neighbor—", he grumbled, and you tried to fight your smirk, but you just couldn't. You found this whole thing amusing, in a way that made you realize just how different he is from the original Wally Darling.

Mainly because you remembered the original actually not giving two fucks about bugs, or being anywhere near as scared of them as Reboot was.

"What?", you asked, raising a brow, and Wally huffed at the challenge in your tone.

"You think I'm hilarious, don't you? You think I'm some kind of clown? A joke, right?", Wally snapped, and you took a moment to study him, still wearing a smirk as you thought on this.

You could see his agitation at having you laugh at him like this, and while you weren't laughing at him, you knew that he took your laughter as you were laughing at him. "C'mooooon, I'm sorry~! I didn't mean to laugh, alright? I just find it...kinda funny that you're so afraid of something so small, you know? Like you've seen one of them eat a guy or something", you chortled, trying to ease his frustrations. "But no, I don't think you're a clown. I do however think this is fucking hilarious, though. You're not used to this, are you? Like, you're used to being in control, right?"

He huffed again at that, clearly not satisfied by this answer as he slid off the counter, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head. "You really think this is funny? Just because I don't like bugs doesn't mean I'm not used to them crawling all over me. Feel my heart; feel how fast it's still beating."

"Tch. Drama queen.", but to humor him, you put your hand to his chest and his own hand grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand up against his heart. You weren't sure why you felt yourself blush, but you were positive he didn't notice.

You could feel the steady, rapid thumping of his heart, and he glared at you again.

You noticed the dark bags under his eyes, and you realized that he hadn't gotten much sleep last night. You'd have to ask about it, but not now, because he was still clearly irritated at your mocking of him.

You eventually relented in this teasing, sighing in defeat as you released his hand, pulling your own back to you. "Ok, I'm sorry—I wasn't trying to be mean. I just...really wasn't expecting this, is all."

"It's ok, just...don't do it again, alright? And I'm not being dramatic. My fucking GOD—this is the WORST thing. Like, how did I not realize it until now?", he muttered, walking past you to get out of the bathroom.

"Why, Wally? Why are you afraid of centipedes? Of all things you could possibly be afraid of, I didn't think you'd be afraid of bugs like that, so...I thought you were just being dramatic."

"They're disgusting, and creepy—the WORST thing. They have too many legs and all these legs just creep me out. It's so...so weird looking. Like, you would be grossed out by them, right?"

You followed after him, wondering as to why the hell he was being so upset about it, like it was the end of the world if a little bug was on him.

"I guess? I mean, I don't know if I would say that, Wally. I mean, they're just bugs. It's not like they're going to eat you or anything. They're harmless unless you hurt them. They can bite you and inject you with venom, but it's not enough to kill you, or even paralyze you."

"Neighbor, I DON'T CARE. They're just gross. Keep it away from me.", he demanded, and you shook your head.

"Fine, fine, whatever. Just...chill with this, ok? Lemme make it up to you. I'll take care of it."

He nodded, "Good. I appreciate it. Now, you said you would get rid of it? What're you gonna do with it?", Wally asked, and you gave him a shrug as you headed over to the kitchen, grabbing a container from one of the cabinets.

"Oh, I dunno. Throw it outside, maybe? I don't know. I haven't really thought that far ahead. But it's just a bug, you know? They're not going to hurt you, Wall. Even if it's like, all over you or something."

Wally visibly paled at that, and you chuckled.

"Relaaaax, man—!", you laughed, trying to sooth his fears. "It's not gonna hurt you. Just...let me do this, alright? I'll take care of it, I promise…"

#((Ngl...i'm nervous as fuck right now but this was actually hella fun to write))#((I dunno how this is gonna get received but i hope its well!!))#welcome home reboot au #reboot wally #welcome home

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ajoytobeheld · 7 months

Text

Ellen: it's been an awfully big adventure

December 7th, 2012

I don’t know how to start this, other then diving right in so….I’ll dive.

It is with a sad face I have to report that I am leaving Los Campesinos!. The show on the 15th of December in London will be my last, and I shall spend it struggling not to cry. Please don’t point out my tears if you come along. Simply pretend it is eye sweat.

Over the last seven years I have been blessed, not by God, because he doesn’t exist, but with opportunities and a life I will not fully appreciate until I am about forty-five. I will look back at old photos of the band, with our smooth skin and questionable hair, and go “fuck me. That was mental.”

The past and present members of Los Campesinos! have been my family for the last seven years and seen me at my lowest, my highest, my most angry, sad, happy, broken, fixed, grown up and immature. They have seen me fail, succeed, let myself and them down, learn the hard way, but they have also seen me grow. And they have always had my back, and I hope, I sincerely hope, I have done my best to have theirs.

There is not a terribly exciting reason for me leaving, (so please start some exciting rumours), I am just going to try something new. Fulfil my ambitions of becoming a failed writer and developing a opium habit. It’s all going to be very retro. I leave with the upmost love and support from the band, but I have requested my replacement not be too cool.

I would say I am sad to go, but that is too simple a word for the variety of emotions I have swimming around my head right now. I am sad, but mostly I am drowning in warm and happy flashbacks, vinaigrette images of us all laughing in the van on long drives across America. Joe Puleo, tour manager, at the front telling a story, Jason playing quizmaster and hosting a game of “Guess the Song,” from an app he has downloaded, and we all scream out responses. Rob taking photos of the scenery on his lomo, Neil watching gangster epics on his laptop, and maybe later on this long long drive Paul and Tom will play Tiger Woods Golf whilst I work out how long I can hold my bladder for before requesting we stop. I was the most frequenter pee needer on long drives. I am not ashamed of this. I owned it.

I felt warm and safe on those drives, listening to everyone tell stories, share experiences, make each other laugh. I am lucky to have shared a hotel room with so many exceptional ladies over the years, Aleks, Harriet and especially Kim, who shared my fear of the cold, love of porridge and put up with my ability to make a mess in any room in under 5 seconds. Starting and ending the day together, we did some good chatting.

I have seen a lot of this world, and I didn’t have to go on a gap year to do it. I have travelled across the breadth and depth of the US and the UK and I have seen a lot of different faces, and sampled a lot of backstage humus.I have seen a lot of graffitied backstage cocks.

I have met and worked with countless wonderful, interesting and horrifically talented people inside the industry, inside the venues, inside the recording studie and inside our practice space. (I won’t gush too much about how talented the people in the band are, you might get diabetes from my sincerity, but it has been a pleasure and a privilege to play the music that Tom writes.)

Also fans. Fans are awesome. You made it possible for us record an album in Seattle. To play a show outside of Wales. To play in a baseball stadium in Japan. A haunted restaurant in Santa Cruz. a handful of US universities and see Mexico! I saw Mexico! You girls and guys are truly humbling, and I hope I never took you for granted too much. I probably did. Thank you for knowing the words, for bringing cakes, and books, and t-shirts, and comics, and buying us drinks and for waiting and driving miles and cheering and clapping. For reading or watching or listening to anything we have ever done. Thanks. You kept us going and will continue to be the life blood of the Los Campesinos! family.

I was trawling through old photos trying to find the best one to represent a start and an ending, but I got lost in old memories and the process of ageing.

(God we looked young, look at our skin! Look at our clothes! Cardigans and ripped up Distillers t shirts, oh I still have that.)

I have eons of photos of the band at the start, at rehearsals, house parties, with experimental hair, (mine black, Gareth long and wispy, Neil’s fringe nearly covering his eyes and Tom always wearing his hat) and at our first shows. I remember when we first started, our summer of label romance where everyone wanted to take us out for a pub meal, and all we ever did was go out in Cardiff drinking and dancing. We said we would change our last names to Campesinos! if we ever played in the states, but we tempted fate, and we never changed out names but we did get to go to America a lot.

I sometimes wonder what alternative universe me would be doing if she didn’t go to that first rehearsal in Ollie’s bedroom. I think she is picking her nose right now in a bath of baked beans, bored and crazy because she spent all day in an office sitting next to a woman who told her about the time she slept with a navy seal. No one cares Brenda.

So 500 plus gigs, millions of air miles, gallons of backstage whisky and wine, a tonne of sweaty cheese and pita bread, a litre of tears shed on stage, hundreds of “don’t fuck up,” panics, hundreds of fuck ups, hundreds of “this is blowing my mind” moments whilst starring into a sea of unfamiliar and impassioned faces, break ups and ill advised hook ups later (don’t date musicians, like ever, we’re all mental,) I realise I have seen all the travel lodges, service stations, and states of America (apart from Alaska) and I have tasted more Marks and Spencer’s meals then I thought possible. I’ve been with some of the finest people I know doing a very unnatural thing, which is both the best and the worst experience and often at the same time, but never the same any given year. And we have done it fucking well. The best we can.

God I’m being dramatic, but I can’t help it, I was a middle child.

So some more self-indulgence.

I want to thank some people for being ace. John Goodmanson – a brilliant producer and a lesson in style and grace under pressure. Joe Puleo – the best tour manager, you never feel anything but safe in his company. Kelly Pickard – inspiration, mentor, wisest woman. Paul Rattcliff- The loyalist soundman whom gives so much. Kev and Alun and Mark Bowen, Wichita, Ben and Vicky, Gareth Dobson, anyone we have toured with or supported or who I have met along the way, everyone I forgot. I haven’t forgot, I am thinking about you.

My mum, because she told me I could be anything and do anything except get my tongue pierced. And I did that anyway, and she still wasn’t mad at me.

And the band.. Kim, Jason, Gareth, Tom, Neil and Rob who I will miss sharing experiences with that no one will understand, I love you guys. Like, loads. From our first Sweet Dreams, until our last, thanks.

Okay, too long, too emo. Bye bye.

Ellen x

#2012 #ellen!blog #lc!blog #lc!image

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mistycreeper · 1 year

Note

i think i misunderstood your message and sent my matchup request to the wrong blog 🧍 so here it is again!

may i get a romantic overwatch matchup please? any gender is fine, but i prefer characters 25+

im 5'3 and nonbinary

I'm very shy and reserved at first but once i open up im very friendly and warm and a huge dork. im creative and i like to make things for people, whether its sewing or crocheting or drawing etc.

im easily flustered by anything flirty. im a good listener and i value communication greatly. i cry easily bc im sensitive and i struggle with emotional dysregulation. im a very caring person and can sometimes overdo it trying to be there for everyone. im also very stubborn, especially when someone either tries to make me do something i don't want to do, or says i can't do something. i have anxiety and often wake up at weird hours of the morning bc of it.

tysm!

Hrmm...in my humble opinion, I match you with:

☆ Reinhardt! ~ ☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.

[ Want one too? See here: (insert link to post ill make later) ]

(Warning: Long 'Keep Reading')

(Warning: Angst)

TLDR: He's anxious and caring too. You build each other up, and he especially nurtures you/ see last paragraph

It could go a number of ways. It was a bit of rummaging to find the right one, but if you like Rein I think it'd work out pretty good!

I can imagine you working in Overwatch when it got big in a teensy assistive position, occasionally bumping into the fabled heroes, usually for professional reasons.

And dear god, it was terrifying. That looming itching feeling of social pressure as you have to talk to them. At a work party Tracer had made an effort to try and talk to you, which kind of worked- you quietly babbled back and forth but the atmosphere with so many strangers was just kind of overwhelming. Cassidy had teased you, both simultaneously putting a blush on your face and a bubbling feeling of frustration. You wanted to prove his smug face wrong.

And you did. You were out of your shell, one way or another, and spiralled down this one-sided? Requited? God, who-knows - situation-ship with Cass that did you more harm than good. It was nice for a while, colourful, passionate, but fickle. The verbal equivalent of scraping at a smooth wall in your effort to help him as he slipped into Blackwatch. His ever-waning attention to your beautifully crafted gifts; his ignorance.

However, during that time you did meet the heroes personally. You caught Reinhardt's attention particularly. You were amazing! He'd look over your shoulder in awe in what you were making for Cassidy, spouting words of encouragement, saying something about how you should teach him so he could crochet for Ana and Fareeha. When someone dared you couldn't take your turn arm wrestling Rein, you did, and won! Crazy strength, right? Just kidding, he let you win. When you complained, you stayed up as everyone trickled out continually trying to beat him. It was very comical sight; opponents crouched over a table, one 2ft bigger than the other. When you were shy, he would offer a hand on your back as you entered the new thing together instead of alone. Reinhardt was always very clear with his emotions, which was quite grounding and you started to unintentionally imitate him a bit. You'd had your bubbly, loud conversations, but when Ana and Cass had left (and during Cass' stupid antics)- they sometimes became more quiet, and solemn. Seeing him awake too at ungodly hours of the night-morning, you had reached out to him in worry despite your state. The two of you had exchanged woes carefully and ending up in streaming tears in both sides, both of anguish and relief, ending in an all-encompassing hug underneath the cloudy night sky of Gibraltar. It was hard not to rely on him, because he wholeheartedly let you.

And that's it. Overwatch was...over? You remember that last day as your co-workers began to pack on to company helicraft to go back home from Gibraltar. Looking at Rein through the crowd, distraught. Ana was missing. You had sincerely guaranteed you would stay in touch until press had died down. With a tugging heartstring you returned home.

Looking at your comms device your stomach churned over Reinhardt's contact, finger hovering over the screen. What if he'd forgotten? Does he still want to speak? Is it saf- your thoughts cut off as the device lit up. A video call from Reinhardt. It was an initial image of a confused old man before he saw you, and his holographic face lit up. He corrected himself, asking of your safety, and if you are free to talk, etcetera. When you dizzily but enthusiastically agreed, he jumped back into over joyous questions, compliments and jokes. In this time apart, you would chat now and again. How Brigitte was; your latest projects; if you couldn't fall asleep or you woke up too early... It was nice during a time of ever-growing political tension.

Eventually, you were invited to visit for the holidays. As soon as you stepped off the hoverbus Reinhardt was there, asking you before scooping you up in a hearty hug and laugh. You'd missed that. As he gushed about his hometown you couldn't help but look over. He was overflowing with joviality- but weathered, more than before. An added sense of maturity and intelligence. You understood. And, it looked quite handsome on him. Not to mention the juxtaposition of his parental looking cardigan against his massive scar-strewn form.

This odd kind of new..adoration began to weasel its way into otherwise familiar interactions from back in Overwatch. Becoming more familiar with his bouts of depression, (Ana's death, all his friends disappearances...) consolations especially became more tender and intimate in the quiet hours of the Lindholm household or out on the green hills. Sometimes you'd wake up at a horribly early time, and going down the stairs you would find Reinhardt carefully cooking. Anxiety wake-ups didn't seem as bad anymore- actually, they became less frequent as you would just exist together into the night, sometimes even cuddle. Sometimes Torbjörn would shout and make you cry, leading to Brig and Rein to scold him and then comfort you, Reinhardt more calmly. You'd go grocery and material shopping (for Brig) together. Reinhardt would ever so subtly wince at loud metallic noises, and you would hold his hand. You'd take over for Brig in tending his wounds when he tried to 'stay in shape'. You weren't trying to be an opportunist, but god his body was pretty too. Maybe you paused a little too long, because in-between a pained grunt he chuckled. This confused you, as minute as it was, but it wasn't long before he began gently dropping more smart-mouthed compliments and half-jokes in a lower tone than normal. One night that you had stayed up late together he had pulled you aside. With the same sincerity and nervousness of when he had initially contacted you post-Overwatch; and the same cloudy night sky, he articulately confessed his growing romantic feelings for you.

If you reciprocate? He is overjoyed to a silent smile, forehead bumping against yours as he offers a calloused hand to rest on your cheek. He eventually looks through to you, a small smug smile as he articulates something cheesy but tender. Boundaries and expectations are shared, and it's pretty easy to trust each other. You have your own business to attend to, but when you do meet, it is loud and beautiful. Boisterous, passionate holidays and days together. He remembers what you taught him, and presents to you a bad crocheted..blanket (?) as big as his hand that he's proudly holding it with. You slam the table harder than him as you're so close to winning a stupid family board game against him. He princess carries you often just-cause. Quiet and meaningful talks as he holds on to your every word.

It's nice.

--------------------------------------------------BTS ↴

#reinhardt x reader #overwatch matchups #i have dcd we're square brutha *handshake emoji*#always more to say but cutting it here fo no GOODNIGHT #overwatch #reinhardt #baiiii

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