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youryanderedaddy · 3 months

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Yandere! Crazy ex boyfriend

tw: female reader, non - con, heavy degradation, slut-shaming, abuse/violence, mockery of depression, suicidal ideation, obsessive behavior, death threats, dark

It's 2 a.m. and you can't sleep - you keep turning and burying your head into the soft, warm pillow, but something is off. The moon is too bright, coming in from the gap between your heavy curtains. The crickets outside are too loud, playing around and singing the same old melody over and over again. The static silence of the old radio tucked under the drawers is too repetitive, too predictable. All in all, you can feel it in your bones; something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

You hear the steps next. That sinister laughter - getting louder and louder, someone screaming at the top of their lungs, the echo flooding through the thin walls of your small shared flat. Someone's fist is gripping the lock with uneccessary cruelty as if trying to knock it out of the handle. The key falls down in one sharp motion, and your heart stops completely once the door opens with a squeaky, familiar bang - it still makes you jump even after all those months.

"Aww, baby!" The man exclaims, leaning against the door. You're not sure if you are hallucinating due to the countless hours of lost sleep, or there is actually smoke coming out of his old black trenchcoat. You're not even sure if he's trully here, or if this is yet another nightmare. "You didn't bother with locks this time!" He continues, smiling with childlike glee - but you know him too well. He's never peaceful. He's never cheerful. Any indication of happiness the monster exhibits is meant to confuse and trick his prey, and you're not falling for his tricks again. You already got burnt one too many times.

"Does that mean you missed me?" He tilts his head, almost pouting at you. He's all disheveled - a total wreck. The curly, unruly hair you once loved to caress and play with now just seems shaggy and unkept, sticking out like an explosion. His eyes are dark, well, darker, bloodshot, barely recognizable from the warm pots of honey that used to make you melt against him. He's lost weight, yet weirdly enough seems to have gained some muscle. You can't help, but think that it simply looks weird, unnatural even. Adam, the one you remember, was never strong - he was never threatening, never even raised his voice at you. But that was years ago in the sweet, distant dreams of the past, and that boy had died the moment you two moved in together. That's when your hell trully began.

"Were you trying to give me easy access, baby? Hm?" He smirks, interrupting your stream of consciousness. If you were unsure of his physicallity, of his existence, it's bright clear now - because you can never mistake that taunting, humiliating curve to his voice, the one he only uses when he's mad. Really, really mad. "Knew I would be back?"

You take a deep breath, slowly nodding along - maybe if you play nice, he'd just go away. Maybe this time you won't end up in cuts and bruises, all memories, good or bad, completely wiped off your drugged out hazy brain.

"Of course you did." Your ex boyfriend humms in satisfaction, taking a single step towards you - and it makes you tremble all over, no matter how much you wish you could remain calm and collected at the face of Death himself. "Because I told you so, no?" He clenches his teeth, raising his head so his eyes would meet yours. You feel like a deer caught before a trigger guard with an unstable trigger, one second away from being shot in the heart. "I told you-" He steps closer. "That I'll be back-" Another step. "Didn't I, princess?"

You nod again, unable to produce a sound. You almost wish he brought his gun so this little torture session would end quicker. Almost.

"Aww, look at you trying so hard to please me. It's adorable, baby." The man coos, his knee sliding across the edge of your bed. Fear takes a hold of your lungs, squeezing them in until you feel like you're seeing stars - and then Adam climbs on top of you. It all happens so quickly - one moment he's far away, and then he's towering over you, his hot breath ghosting over your sweaty neck, baby hairs sticking out with shivers. You can't shake the terrifying, unescapable feeling that you've been here before. That you somehow always end up underneath him, begging for your life - for mercy he won't ever grant you.

"I wonder where all that enthusiasm was when you decided to run on me." The white part of his eyes suddenly illuminates, brows raised together - he looks deranged. "Huh?" He looks at you, expecting an answer, yet you can't think of one. Your brain is turning to mush, consumed by raw panic - but why does it matter? Whatever you say he'll find a way to use against you. "Answer me, you fucking bitch!" He hisses, voice dropping to a diabolical whisper as his fist snaps around your throat like a metal collar. This seems to break off your stupor, and you open your mouth, ready to yell at whoever is still awake.

"Don't you dare fucking scream, cunt." Adam grips your jaw with one hand, crushing your cheeks into each other. "If I hear a single word come out of that filthy little mouth of yours, I am going to slit your fucking throat." His lips twist in a big sadistic grin you would have wanted to punch had you had the strength to move your arm around. Instead you whimper, defeated. Even after everything, your stupid self preservation instinct won't let you die - so it sacrifices the only thing you have left, your dignity. "And then in the morning your little friends will find you drowning in your own blood." He lowers his face, cold dead lips tracing the rough lines of your collarbone.

"A pretty picture for sure." He bites his lower lip, imagining it for just a second. "Bu-ut I know that even a depressed, suicidal little attention whore like you wouldn't want her friends to be sad." The man adds teasingly, and you can feel the bile back up into your stomach, burning and acidic. You may actually throw up all over him if you're not careful. And then he'd kill you for sure. "I mean, you seem to care for these pesky bugs oh-so much. It'd be a pity to force them to clean up your remains-"

"N-no, that's not true. I don't care about them, I only care about you!" You lie through your teeth, hot, salty tears pricking your eyes as you deny the love you have for the only people who care about you - the ones who basically saved you from a life of abuse and suffering. But apparently nothing good lasts, not when it comes to you. "Adam, I only love y-"

He backhands you - the slap echoes through the roof. Ouch.

"Don't say-" Your ex boyfriend grunts, roughly shoving you down. You take a shallow breath, letting the sting settle in. It's going to leave a red ugly handprint all over your cheek - and yet you stupidly thought your little confession was going to make him happy. Your anchors, the straws that used to buy you time, howerer rare and far in between, are all gone now. You used them up. You've run out of time, out of trick, out of will to keep fighting.

But you know he'll never make good on his threats. He'd never actually kill you - he doesn't love you enough to rid you of this miserable obsession that ties you together. And yet you tremble every time you feel the graze of his knife against your skin - you cower whenever he raises his hand. And you break down when he holds you close, hoping, praying that this time his embrace would prove just suffocating enough for you to stop breathing all together. It never does.

"Don't say you love me. You don't love me." Adam hisses in your ear, venom dripping off each word. "And I don't even care if you love me." He turns you around, pushing your face into your pillow - muffling your cries into weak, hiccuping sobs. "You're nothing." He swallows, averting his gaze to your lower body - yanking your shorts down with little concern as to whether they'd rip or not. "You amount to nothing, you're lower than dirt. You're just a fucked up little bitch." The man keeps mouthing off, and you can't decide what hurts more - his nails digging into your hips, or the razor sharp insults. " I never want you to forget that you deserve everything I give you."

You cry out as his massive length enters you with absolutely no preparation. It hurts - you're dry and it chaffs against your walls with nothing to make it slide freely, bruising your cervix. Your muscles are trying to push the foregin object out, but it keeps pushing in and out of you in forceful uniform thrusts. Between the waves of sharp and stinging-hot pain you manage to form a coherent thought - and you're surprised. Surprised that the man is even able to stay hard when all he feels right now is anger. Not love or affection, not even lust. Just anger. Surprised your body is still going even after your mind has given up. Surprised that, even despite all your protests and agony, you are growing used to this.

"I gave you everything." Adam start off again, picking up the pace of his thrusts. "Everything - but you're too much of a selfish whore to see." He pulls your hair back so you'd face him from beneath - then he slaps you with all force. "I want to mess up that pretty little face of yours." His hand connects to your cheek once again. You know you'll wake up all puffy and blue tomorrow morning - if you even wake up. "I want you so goddamn ugly no one wants you anymore." He pulls you in by your shirt, smashing his lips against yours with a brutal force - as if he's trying to become one with you, and break your face at the same time. "I want you so ruined-" He kisses you again, teeth running into teeth - yet he's the one to bite you first. "And lonely that you have no one else to turn to."

"I want you broken." He pulls away just to stare into your empty eyes, voice now back to a whisper. "As broken as me."

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut

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chocsra · 3 months

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"Eternal Damnation."

PM! dazai x fem! immortal reader

a/n: apolgies for my absence. i was planning to write but everytime i could something piled up 🙁. thank u to @cherylpoptarts for the sudden reqs which piqued my interest immensely. ill work on my pending requests another time. enjoy the angst.

summary: you, an ability user who is able to automatically heal has been alive for centuries, constantly avoiding death. in the midst of it all, you hire an assassination, not for anyone, but yourself.

content warnings: suicide, mercy killing, insanity, assisted suicide, angst, small oneshot/long drabble, pm! dazai, (i hate this sm)

Lukewarm.

A temperature that was not too cold or hot; tepid. Little enthusiasm or indifference.

Similar to the freezing snow cooling down your neck into your back during Japanese winters. Catching snowflakes in the heat of your palm did not melt the bitter cold engulfing your being. Lukewarm was your companion throughout the tedious years of this beautiful thing we call 'living'. Lukewarm is the only comfort you know of.

There was a cut that always bled, never fully healed, the scab that you reckon to always pick off. Lukewarm water would wash over your scabbed wounds, into your eyes, and swallow you whole. You'd watch your loved ones become engulfed in a scorching heat, the bubbling fire scraping and tearing over old, bitter skin.

You'd run your fingers over the freshly new skin and everlastingly massaged joints. You never became old. You never felt hurt. You never were hurt—for long of course. For healing was your salvation, your ability, your gift—your curse.

"Winter is over soon,"

you muttered softly, the melancholic rebirth of nature prospecting over the misty blankets of snow surrounding you. Spring. The season when flower seedlings, trapped beneath infertile soil, reawaken and sprout; revelling in rich petals and leaves, calmly drifting in the cool breeze. You've seen it one too many times; 134—to be exact.

"And that's your reason?"

Your eyelids never falter your solemn, sad look. Continue to stuff your hands deep in your pockets to escape the cooling air, huffing out as you also fidget with the origami you've been toying with. "I'm not sure what you mean," you reply, eyes gazing over to the melting body of water, a local river as you stand over its bridge. For it was a beautiful sight, nature did this annual thing called grow—rebirth, if you may. And as many others hated the cold breeze that nature gifted, somehow, you basked in it. —"You want me to kill you because winter's over soon."

...

Right, you forgot the predicament you were in. Merciful. Yearning. Bright. Though the man beside you excluded the exact opposite of those adjectives, you cannot help but feel this funny thing called desperation—besides, you've heard it all, no 'youngest mafia executive' is truly evil. To you, he is only just a boy, a foolish boy. "I have lots of riches. You can even take my house, it's not dirty money."

"I see,"

A harsh breeze of wind swiftly picked up the origami that you were crafting from your hands, reaching out to grab the piece—a cold hand catches it and holds the folded paper in front of you, extending his hand. "you forget that you can't approach mafiosos on the street pleading for suicide, y'know? That sort of desperation is seen as dirty."

On the surface level, his words seemed like an insult; it was utterly offensive to refer to a person's actions as filthy. However, there wasn't any hint of insult in his voice—he even seemed amused. He, was a young man wrapped around in a beige scarf and black trenchcoat engulfing his entire body; he, was practically swimming in it. He, had brown wavy locks that framed his face. He, for some odd reason, was covered in bandages. —not the gauze you'd find wrapping around wounds, one similar to a mummy. And he, who looked like he lacked self-care, though you would be able to take in his pleasant features.

"Am I pleading?—" You snatch the origami away from his hand, "It's more like a deal. Consider it a paid assassination." the brunette merely scoffs, light air huffing out of his lips as he stuffs his hand back into his pocket. "Our conduct doesn't consist of mercy killing or assisted suicide," the man chuckles, peering along the barely frozen body of water. "nor unarranged business deals. But I'd like to know one thing,"

You lift your gaze meeting his in curiosity, taking in the soft features of his face, yet he brimmed with impurity. The slopes of his cheeks were so slim, and that followed through his lanky frame - a face that didn't seem boyish at all. Merciful. Yearning. Bright. He screamed an antonym of those words —Cruel. Repulsed. Dark.

"Why is it you want to die?" he asks, watching intricately as you brush your thumb continually over the origami you were making: a crafted swan. The brunette seemed rather impressed, watching - your skills seem exactly like traditional art of origamis: something he'd see in an old painting or lost crafts book. Swans - which symbolised eternal love, you seemed anything but loving. Maybe, it had just been eternal. An eternity without love.

"My journey started with helping others live. But once you start taking the breath of living for granted, it becomes the very reason you wish to die. I. suppose I've met my limit with that. With living." you reminisce the past, the melancholic nights under blankets under the same winter—the spring, autumn, or summer. In the blessing of longevity, there was a problem; for what you've gained, there was also lost. Death of others—an eternity without love was your reality. Your resentful condemnation.

"I understand."

At this moment, the mafioso didn't seem so cruel; it was almost sympathetic, you'd think as he gazes over the river. "I've never understood the purpose of living if that makes you feel any better."

...

"You're not very good at comforting, are you?" an unexpected chuckle escaped his lips, "I'd at least expect an immortal to be a nihilist." you remotely scoff at his revelation. "Stupid. There's a reason why I want to die, I understand the meaning of living." the brunette rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. "Well, I don't understand the meaning of living hence why I want to die."

You chuckle, "For a mafioso, you are sassy."

"For a beauty, you are quite rude." He smiles indifferently.

It's almost funny, actually. How casual that conversation was.

Engulfed in the flames of this beautiful thing we call living, you finally obtain that sweet release of death the moment you intertwine fingers with a young mafioso—one who reeked of death.

The flames that engulfed you were lukewarm, but he was different. He was warm, almost scorching. Scorching an angelic heat that cascaded into the palms of your hand all the way to your shoulders and neck. The feeling was deftly abstract, and you basked in it; the way he'd hold you so close, run bandaged hands over the slope of your cheeks, whisper untangible nothings near the shell of your ear.

"Death is the absence of life, the desire I've been longing to taste since adolescence."

Mist and smoke fill around the room, almost making you feel dizzy. There were a lot of turbulent emotions circulating through your brain. First, you were relieved. You've been insensitive to death for a while, the times you did cry for someone—it was out of relief. The sweet relief that that one person would not have to suffer. You suppose it was the same for yourself. You would meet your demise in the arms of a fallen angel. Fall into the fiery pits of hell, or be welcomed by heaven's gate through a smoky embrace of whiskey and canned crab.

"I'm a bit envious of you, actually," Dazai murmurs, his thumb which was once connected to a trigger, soothingly rubbing your skin. "you'll meet this desire before me." you often wonder, what was the man's infatuation with death? He was in the mafia from a young age, he must've been associated with all forms of death. Ranging from a loved one withering away, to open guts and blood-stained lips. The absence of life can be seen through the empty carcass of one's body, the glint of vitality in their eyes disappearing.

Dazai Osamu was unique. In fact, he never had that glint in his eyes. His carcass was handsome, he was the product of love and passion. However, the eyes—his eyes, which were the window of the soul, were a dark void, abyssal, vantablack. He was unreadable. The brunette's experiences, his beliefs, his spiritual grounding. Dazai Osamu yearned for death, but for what he learned as just a boy, he did not meet death—but became it.

You had a connection. The special origami of a swan—meaning eternal love. He wanted eternal, you wanted love. In the end, none of you were happy. And so, he'll give you peace, and you'll give him understanding. The carcass you're going to become is much different from a being he merely murdered. Dazai moves a hand from interlocking with yours, to cup both of your cheeks. Warm and rosy cheeks.

"I'm sorry,"

He had fluttered his eyes shut and leaned his forehead on your temple. Despite the burning fire ignited by the candle of his flesh alone, his warm and shallow breaths gave you a balmy breather from this feeling called lukewarm.

Crack.

Lukewarm.

"I see you got what you wanted, huh?"

You stood atop a bridge from frozen water with a black scarf snuggled tightly around your neck.

A brunette man averted his gaze to you with a confused stare. The gape of which was rather familiar, one that excluded a slight glint of vitality, but other than that, abyssal. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

He adjusted the bandage on his finger, in which you assumed he cut his finger on something. "Nope. But I made an extra origami, do you want one?"

Silence. "..Sure."

The mysterious man picked up the crafted paper with suspicion. His gaze softens as he sees a professionally crafted swan. "I feel like we've met before—actually, I'm sure of it."

"Not too sure about that."

chocsra™

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realpokemon · 1 year

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Tumblr user Rodney Realpokemon is known to, by his own admission, be three Pokemon in a trenchcoat. But which ones? While he has not given an answer, we can use logical thinking to determine the truth. First, we know of his battle history. He is a terrible battler, so weak he could not even get a girlfriend or boyfriend. Tragic. This means whatever Pokemon he is must be an exceptionally weak kind. However, he owns a Poison-type Gulpin and has referred to being poisoned by the famous Bart before, without any apparent true health issue, so he must be resistant or immune to Poison-type damage.

He has also referred to having 'smacked' Bart for the jiggles, implying he must be a Pokemon with arms or other similar manipulators. However, the ultimate clue is in his username. "Realpokemon"- Obviously, if he is really a pokemon, that name makes sense. But Pokemon, as we all know, is a contraction for 'pocket monster'. Knowing this, his name becomes 'real pocket monster'- Grammatically this causes 'real' to become an intensifier for 'pocket', implying Rodney is a Pokemon of very small size, able to fit into a pocket even without a Pokeball. The facts line up quite well. A very small Pokemon, incredibly weak, resistant to Poison-type damage, with arms able to smack a Gulpin? Rodney is three Gimmighouls in their Roaming Form. Lacking a proper chest and lacking the battle ability to acquire any money, they have instead taken up residence in a PC case and are chasing tumblr notes as a substitute for material riches. It's basic logic.

that's nothing you can prove in court you son of a bitch

#pokemon #unreality #pkmn irl #i'm a little convinced ngl

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sideblogfornothing · 8 days

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I don't think these people understand what censoring Israel feels like. It's like if people started censoring ch1n@ or Am*r1c@ or 1r*l@nd -_- ...do you see what I mean?

Imagine your just existing, than you see a post with 10k notes that has the name of your country censored, like imagine living you life knowing that outside of your country most people seem to hate you so much that they refuse to even write the name of your country.

Israel isn't an evil organization, it isn't a political party, it isn't a couple of cultists in a trenchcoat, committing genocide. It's a fucking county full of normal, human civilian people.

Hating Israelis, sending death threats to young Israeli people, sending r@pe threats, and telling Israeli kids to kill themselves, is bullshit. and you can't use "Zionist" as an excuse. Like imagine if I went up to random German children and called them evil "Nazi's." Like that's wrong! Thats straight up evil to accuse random kids of being apart of a genocidal political party that started in their country like 80 or so years ago. Or even right now, imagine if I accused random Palestine kids of being hamas. Like, משהו לא מסתדר

So, my point makes sense if you don't have an understanding of what a Zionist is. Like most of you. there are two definitions of Zionist, 1. A person who believes that Jews have a right to have a country of their own, because we can't exist in other countries, and everyone hates us no matter what. 2. A person who believes that Jews have a right to the land of Israel specifically.

A lot of Israelis are Zionists, but being a Zionist isn't really a bad thing. It's purely the belief that Jews should have a country.

And if you know any Jewish history at all, you would know that Jews do need a country for themselves. When we live in literally any other country, we aren't allowed to exist. No one wants us, so why be so mad that we have a tiny scrap of land?

Israel is tiny, you could drive from one end to the other within 6 hours. It's much smaller then a single us state. So why are people so content with not even letting us have this small scrap, that was originally half dessert and half swamp?

Palestinians have like 20 country's, we have one tiny sliver of land. Why are we made responsible for them?

Anyway, I know it might be hard to believe, but most Israelis hate the government. No one like them.

This post got a bit off track but eh who cares, people are gonna be mad regardless of how much I sugar coat stuff. People will send death threats even if the only thing on this post is the word Israel.

Anyway, it's Yom hatzmaut today, so fuck all of you. Unless your cool.

#ישראלבלר #jewblr #israel #jewish #israel palestine conflict #ישראבלר #palestine #עם ישראל חי

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voidesart · 7 months

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Stolen bag, stolen heart.

Pairing: Jason Dean x reader

Word count: 447 words

Warnings: none

Summary: while in a hurry, you accidentally steal a cute guy’s bag.

Fandom: Heathers (1989)

Type: fluff (?)

Authors note: first fanfic on my new account, WHOOO!!!!! Hope y’all enjoy!

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve looked where I was going.” You didn’t look at the person you bumped into, but it wasn’t hard to guess by his long black trench coat. You hadn’t even talked to him properly, this was technically your first time interacting with him. That didn’t mean you hadn’t noticed him though. Jason Dean was not that sore on the eye.

Both of yours bags had fallen onto the ground. Without giving it a second thought you quickly grabbed a bag and ran for to your class. You were already late and being late for class always resulted in a long talk about why being on time is one of the most important things as a human. You yelled another ‘sorry’ over your shoulder as you ran, making eye contact with Jason.

Before JD could react you were gone. His eyes followed your person as it entered the classroom, before he looked at the bag on the floor, noticing it wasn’t familiar. He groaned and crouched down to grab it, even though he had a free hour, he wasn’t keen on barging in a class to get his bag back.

As you entered the class you felt a difference in the weight you were carrying. You looked down and noticed that you weren’t carrying your own bag and let out a frustrated sigh. As you were about to turn around to find the owner again, you heard the teacher clear her throat. This really wasn’t great timing.

The class went by very slowly, but when it was finally over you almost ran out of there.

You quickly went towards the cafeteria looking for the guy in the trenchcoat, knowing he would want his bag back just like you wanted yours, when you heard footsteps coming from behind you, You turned around and kept your gaze focused on the bag in your hands.

“You’ve got my bag-“

“I know, I’m sorry! I should’ve just ran back towards you but the teacher didn’t allow me and-“

You were cut off with a soft chuckle, you looked at him in confusion.

“You know, you’ve said sorry more times then we’ve talked. You say that a lot don’t ya?” He said, you could hear the grin radiating from his sentence. Blushing from embarrassment you finally looked up at him, His blue-Green eyes meeting yours. “I feel it a lot.” You said with small smile.

“Well you should, you bump into me, steal my bag” he says, his grin turning into a smug smirk, “and I don’t even get to know your name.” You look at him, smile, and properly introduce yourself.

“A stunning name, for a captivating person.”

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fluideli123 · 29 days

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Sonadow Fic Rec

Okay, before you jump down to the masterpieces listed below, I just wanted to state this:

These authors have given this phenomenal content for free, baked with time and effort. I have never once ignored this, hence why I try and comment on each and every one of these fics. However, my energy and ability to be verbose differs day to day. Some of these fics I have not given proper comments for, despite this, I will be on it the moment I can be. In the time being, (once I am able to find my comments on each of these fics) I will be sharing my adoration for them further in other posts (and most likely link back to this one).

With that being said, please, PLEASE take your time to check each of these fics out. If they're not your cup of tea? Valid! But hands down I have never dedicated myself to making a fic rec like this until now. But I MUST share and spread these works, they are much too dear to me not to, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

(All fics are listed by order saved in my bookmarks, not in the order read)

tangled threads and bite-marked shoulders by @rubyiiiusions

Words: 32,287 | Series | Complete

Shadow hissed in pain. The laser had just grazed him, but it still stung, and he instinctively gripped the wound it left on his arm. “You dare-” He stopped. The laser hadn’t hit him. In fact, it had struck Sonic, right on his lower left arm. So why did his forearm feel like it just got shot? He whipped around, fear climbing up his throat, and he suddenly became hyper-aware of something new. It was like a sixth sense, feeling the confusion that emitted from Sonic’s fur in waves as if it was his own. “What did you do?!” Shadow snarled. or, eggman accidentally soulbinds shadow and sonic, and no one has any idea how to undo it.

Sleepwalking by Tirainy

Words: 22,117 | Complete

'There is a strong arm curled around his torso, the appendage keeping him close to its owner, whose warm breath is ghosting over the back of his neck. Sonic is sure he went to bed alone the previous night, but he isn't worried about the intruder. After all, this isn't the first time this has happened…'

Secret Admirer by @trenchcoat-gecko

Words: 24,313 | Complete

Sonic understood well what it meant to be loved. He was a world-famous hero, after all; his presence never went unnoticed. For the most part, he lavished in that attention, he soaked it in and encouraged it. But not romantic attention. So, when the blue blur found himself falling in love? Well, the prospect was rather daunting, no matter how easy Amy had made it out to be. So maybe, just maybe, he should just take the easy way out...

Rose Drops Series by @magicstormfrostfire

Words: 122,489 | Series | Complete

Love, Intuition, and a little bit of magic ensues as Amy sends Sonic and Shadow on an unforgettable adventure.

Wolfboy by @trenchcoat-gecko

Words: 73,856 | Complete

World-famous monster hunter Shadow the Hedgehog has a job to do. It doesn't take long for the one-shot wonder to realize that this job won't be as simple as he'd expected: a small town, rumors of a lone werewolf, and a handsome, green-eyed, chronically-injured casanova who manages to worm his way into Shadow's heart... What starts off as a simple job turns out to be something much more life-changing.

Blizzard Bedfellows by @magicstormfrostfire

Words: 21,294 | Complete

When a rare blizzard takes over the island, Sonic is on the run to make sure a certain angry loner is safe and sound. Y-you know, because...uh that's what heroes do.

We never met but can we have a cup of coffee or something? by @whitejungle

Words: 3,630 | Complete

It's been almost two months since Sonic lost someone he didn't even know, but he can't stop thinking about it.

Clean Slate by nottheweirdest

Words: 155,880 | Complete | Note: Squeal pending and I am cheering you on author!! Whatever you decide I am excited to support you!!

Shadow has lost himself before. He knows what it's like to straddle the line between reality and false memories, but this time, it’s Sonic whose memory has vanished. A premeditated set of circumstances and an accidental injury leave Sonic with no memory of who he is, his life, or more importantly, his painful history with Shadow. It’s up to Shadow to remind the hero who he is in the midst of a global outbreak. It’s a chance for redemption. It’s a chance to right the wrongs of the past. It’s a clean slate.

say i reckon (i love you, for a millisecond) by @redamancering

Words: 30,205 | Complete

There’s a hand on his shoulder, barely making contact. A red gauntlet glows around the wrist. Sonic blinks, the pain having evaporated so fast he feels almost weightless. “Shadow?” Shadow’s breathing heavily. “Problem.” The retrieval of the ancient tech Shadow (and Sonic, in tow) has been sent to uncover takes a turn for the worst. In this case, the “worst” means… becoming physically and inextricably linked to each other. For the foreseeable future. OR: Metaphysical handcuffs, and general gay buffoonery.

Judge my sins, not my feelings by yellothebeeloved

Words: 228,479 | Complete | Note: Possible one-shots pending from the author for the series, I am here to support you author!! What ever you decide I'm here for it!

Maybe he's not meant to touch. It's the newest excuse he thought of in hopes that he could prolong the game a little more; a careful ruse to enjoy the bittersweet torture of seeing the days pass them by, while he pretends he doesn't seek azure blue whenever he's restless. At first, all he wanted to do was watch: but now the desire to touch, to have, to affect is at a point where he's not sure whether reaching for Sonic would truly be fruitless. He wonders that especially when Sonic's eyes light up upon seeing him. When he corners Shadow, when he invades his space and he touches and takes and then excuses it by calling it a fight. Shadow truly wonders then: if only he was brave enough to reach out, what would his grip find? Loose stars or a battle-worn body? Standing up, he glances at Sonic again, whose eyes have now met his own. There's something heavy in the eye contact, something Shadow doesn't dare name. Neither of them say anything, and yet Sonic's eyes move away from him again, like they did. Shadow warps away, hiding from the stars once more.

Child of Prophecy by @trenchcoat-gecko

Words: 139,321 | Completed

On the night the Mobius Castle was ransacked, the Queen received a prophecy. “One of three will not cry; send him down the river, for you can only save your kingdom if he does not grow up royal.”

Coming Home by nottheweirdest

Words: 55,740 | Completed

Shadow's life has been full of mistakes, some worse than others, but admitting his unrequited feelings to Sonic tops the list. He's spent the better part of a decade ruminating on his regret and hiding from feelings he couldn't bear to face. He never thought he'd see Sonic again, and he told himself that was for the best. Until now. At the bequest of his former rival, and in an attempt to finally get closure, Shadow has returned to Central City. The reason? Sonic the Hedgehog is marrying Amy Rose. And Shadow is invited.

#I hope you all understand how many of these I have been in call reading to my friends #How many I have tried to draw shadow and sonic for #how many of them inspire my own writing #How I have dreamed about these fics so often I wouldn't be suprised if it rivaled my time fighting sleep to finish them in mere days #Also the AMOUNT of times I've wanted to pull out my microphone and read them aloud #Even though I would be absolutely horrible at reading them like audio books but you know what? fuck it #For these fics I would read them aloud the best I can #GOD JUST #I cant imagine a world where I never read these and its scary to think if they were never shared #Mostly because they actually genuinely impacted me in meaningful ways #I've cried real tears and felt such genuine emotion that I've been changed #Even if it's int he smallest bit #But it happened ya know?#Just- god I love you fic authors sm #Your work is never lost not to me #fox speaks #sonadow #fic #fic rec #fanfiction #writing #fanfic #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonic x shadow #sonic fanfiction #sonic underground #sonic universe #sonic prime

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kazutora-kurokawa · 5 days

Note

Manga artist introvert reader × highschool Hakkai

(WRITE EVERTHING U THINK OF)

Highschool!Hakkai x Manga Artist!Introvert!Reader

♡ SFW, gn reader, pure fluff, shyness, awkward ass dialogue lol, Yuzuha pops up at the end ♡

note: I swear I wrote everything I thought of anon 😭 I did this at 2 in the morning so my mind was...yeah, but I had a cute idea for a first meeting so here it is

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

🖊️ He decided to approach you after you left one of your sketchbooks in the classroom

🖊️ He looked all over school and eventually found you sitting in the art room alone, drawing in another sketchbook

🖊️ He sat down next to you, handed you your sketchbook silently and blushed when your hand touched his

🖊️ Cue the awkward, prolonged eye contact before he clears his throat and says something

"Sooo...what ya drawing?"

"Some art for my manga..."

"Really? That's awesome! Can I see some of it?"

🖊️ Flips through every page of your sketchbook, memorizes every small detail of every drawing or snippet of dialogue

"This is.. really good. You have great attention to detail.."

🖊️ He looks up from the sketchbook and can tell you're getting flustered and it makes him blush

🖊️ Hands you back your sketchbook and realized he didn't even introduce himself (mentally curses himself for being so stupid even though the thought just slipped his mind)

"Um.. I'm Hakkai by the way..."

"I know, we have a lot of classes together. I'm y/n.."

"Oh right..of course, that's how I found your sketchbook in the first place... it's nice to finally put a name to the face."

"Likewise...I gotta go, it's time for my next class."

"Yeah me too... I'll see ya around?"

"Of course."

🖊️ He ends up walking you to your next class, staring longingly as you walk in

🖊️ Yuzuha walks up and scares the crap out of him

"Aww Kai, are you crushing on them?"

"Yuzuha what the heck?! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry sorry, didn't mean to. Now c'mon before we're late for class. You can tell me all about your little crush."

"Someone put me out of my misery..."

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #hakkai fluff #hakkai x reader #the amount of Kai in my requests is insane 😭#like 4 out of 6 requests are about him #y'all are obsessed fr

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fun-k-board · 8 months

Text

TMNT 2012 with an AFAB s/o on their period

Note(s): I wrote this with a ftm Reader in mind, but there are no gendered pronouns or gendered titles used.

Characters included: Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michealangelo, April O'Neil, Casey Jones.

Leonardo

Listen, as much of a leader and confident guy you may believe he is, he is still a mutant turtle who does not get periods and only knows because it was mentioned in a show once and he wanted to know more. He will not understand, beside the basics of 'bleeding down there, intense hormones, and sometimes unbearable pain depending on who you ask.'

If you're someone who goes through a lot of physical pain expect an overbearing mother figure now in your life, he will literally be there with all the advice he can find that'll help.

With the limited resources in the lair and the fact he can't exactly go shopping himself, he'll ask April or Casey to buy period products or pain relief tablets for you if you complain. Even if he's awkward and shy about asking, he doesn't want to burden you by making you wait for a reply over text or have to get up, the fact it helps you makes it worth it.

Soup is also good, he knows how to make traditional teas and soups for you, with great difficulty, and help from Splinter, that will lessen your stomach cramps. Though if you get cravings he may be a little less helpful, it's hard to get ingredients when you live in the sewers and are hated by most of the world.

If you like company he would stay off patrols once or twice, but he's fairly strict about his schedule and won't go too far off it, even if he wants to help you.

If you don't get much pain, he's still by you in his free time and asking questions, you're literally bleeding he's never going to stop worrying.

Whenever you talk to him he basically soaks in the words like a sponge and uses it to help you, a one off 'yeah, this food helps.' and he's on his knees begging for April to buy some.

Raphael

Raphael... I love him, but he needs help when it comes to this. I imagine most of the other turtles at least know the basics, Michaelangelo is the worst but he still knows what a period is, but Raph just never really cared enough to learn.

He knows that a period happens... But that's about it. So, if you're in intense or even a small amount of pain and or wake up with blood around you, he's freaking the hell out, he thinks you've been stabbed or something or maybe he accidentally hurt you with his sais as you slept.

If you explain he's sort of like 'yeah whatever, how do we stop it from hurting you?' and then he never leaves your side.

You run out of products? Step out the way Casey and April, he's sneaking in the shop and thieving- I mean, he's putting on a trenchcoat and hat to hide his turtleness, and buying the products like a good mutant ninja turtle should. But seriously, he doesn't trust the two to buy the right ones, he gets the exact brand right somehow, even if you never tell him what one you want.

He pushes the exercise side of it, even if it doesn't help much, exercise is something that helps him so when he hears it can help he doesn't research further. It takes you explaining that it not only depends on the person but the exercise for him to pout and let you lead.

Donatello

He'd probably panic for a while but then tries to look through a science lense, like, oh! You need to level your blood sugars in this week, these excersises will help you but these won't, make sure to keep your stomach warm so you can lessen the contractions and pain.

Gets a bit sad if you're the type to be more distant and want alone time on your period, especially if you don't like loud noises. Donatello usually has you watching him while he works on his science stuff, so when you aren't it's a demotivator.

Ends up completely abandoning his work just to follow you around like a sad puppy, tending to your every need or waiting outside your room for a text from you if you need something.

If you want him around he's a lot more easy going, if you don't mind sitting in the lab with him while he works then he's all for it, of course he's checking on you every once and a while, and will talk when he wants to, but it comes from him wanting to help you.

If you have health issues caused by your period or your period is made worse by your health issues he's helping you a lot, he knows a lot about human anatomy and how to help ease pain, especially since April and Casey started hanging out with the Turtles more often.

He has a whole section of a diary dedicated to you, and that includes your period, when you're due, what food you've told him helps you, what foods you've said make it worse, what pain you usually describe as, etc, etc.

Michealangelo

Michaelangelo is 100% the type of guy who just goes along with what you want because he wants to help, he probably knows that you bleed, you get mood swings, and you're in pain. And that's all he needs to know.

He's watching you for your entire cycle and just PRAYING nothing bad will happen, gives you all the food you want, no matter how unusual. This can sometimes make it worse, because cravings aren't always foods that will help you, and he feels really really bad if that happens.

He tries to hold himself back on just giving you whatever you want, but when you look up he just folds and starts treating you like royalty.

He can't make a lot of normal foods, he can make pizzas and maybe a decent sandwich, but besides that he's a bit useless, so he tends to buy you microwaved dinners. Unless you don't like them. And then he's just lost.

Mikey asks Donatello to help on the more science level, like no, chocolate will not help, that's a dumb myth, it will only make your sugar levels higher and increase pain, plus blood flow, and nobody wants that.

Cue Mikey closing the oven to hide his chocolate pizza he was making for you.

When buying or storing products, he tends to sort of forget how expensive they are, he'll go in with only a couple of dollars and fall to the floor in utter shock upon realising that is not nearly enough.

But he may or may not steal a few, he saves the city, he gets no money from it, this is completely justified in my opinion.

It's not like he tells anybody anyway.

April O'Neil

She understands so much, whatever you need she'll get for you within minutes.

If your cycles match up April and you will have days where you just sit down and cuddle together, usually at her apartment or in the lair.

She's most likely the one who goes shopping for stuff since she's usually shopping for the turtles as well, though you can come along or even do it yourself if hers is painful and yours is bearable enough to go and vice versa.

If you don't get much pain or mood swings, she makes a few jokes on how she wishes she was you, but if you ask her to stop she will.

Understands the pain that might come mentally, if yours is really bad during the month she even ignores the Turtles to help you out. Unless you want to be left alone in which case she can do that as well, but she will text you every few hours, this is probably happening with or without your period given how dangerous being friends with her is.

If you have intense pain, she's extremely worried for you and will try to help in any way she can, especially if you have other issues that impact your period and or your period causes you other issues.

Casey Jones

Once he gets it Casey doesn't care for the exact details, all he needs to know is when he needs to be involved. Then he's actually really helpful

Usually gets too embarrassed to buy pads for you so he asks April to do it for him, if she refuses he awkwardly makes his way over and will be red the entire time he buys them.

He will begrudgingly be mushy if it means you'll feel better, but also reluctantly leaves you alone if you prefer being alone, he's complicated when it comes to you.

Tends to try to make you laugh or smile if you get sad, but fails to realise that the flood gates of hell spill over with unholy blood whenever you do laugh too hard.

If you're someone with less blood and or pain he'll be asking once every few hours if you're okay, every month is the same, he never learns that you're going to be fine, or that you don't experience too much pain, but it shows he cares.

If you have intense pain he's next to you always helping and at your beck and call, he's fine with skipping out on time with April or the turtles because he doesn't want you in pain.

This has been in my drafts for a little over a year, I've only just got the strength to finish it (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

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thequeerwizardcouncil · 2 months

Text

Transgender Visibility Day Two: Estrogenic Boobaloo

Alternatively,

Transgender Visibility Day Two: Testosteronic Dickaloo

It is now Transgender Visibility Day for the other half of the world!

Let us celebrate, but firstly before anything else. The council would like to give out a few statements.

While this is an amazing celebration of our resilience and continued resistance to transphobia, we mustn't forget

Our fallen, the many killed in hate unjustly. Nex Benedict being one of the most recent

Our fellow queer in Palestine, Sudan, the Congo, etc. We mustn't forget about their suffering whilst we celebrate here so freely. Though we should care about all of the people not just the queer and trans in those places being subjected to the most inhumane conditions by tyrants.

The many bills, laws, and legislation trying to be passed to further erase us. Especially the KOSA bill, and quite sadly in Florida recently having passed legislation to ban minors from social media as an attack on us to be put in to effect in 2025.

With all of those being said, we should all continue to fight for those causes, continue fighting censorship. Continue fighting genocide. Continue fighting slavery.

We ask you all to continue spreading the word of these causes, these evils that must be stopped. As the council is bound by metaphysical law, we may not exit this and help you in the way we wish.

Fight KOSA, and censorship

Fight for our fallen, whether it's the unjustly banned, those dead from self harm, or those murdered in cold blood

Fight for those still persisting, the ones showing a fervour of resistance to fight oppresors.

We draw our strength from solidarity, it is what has allowed us to continue. Let it be the reason we win this war.

Anyways, here is our second message to all Transgender beings out there:

You are valid, you know you best. And we mean it. We may be filled with wise wizards, but we know that only oneself knows itself best. You know your identity better than anyone. Even when it can feel like your body disagrees with your true self, or others don't see you for who you are.

Know that even with all the pain, the grief, the hate, we and many many others fight every second for you to be you. For you to be safe. For all of us to be ourselves.

And we will see that day come, and by that day we hope for all of us to have survived, to tell stories of our battles, to guide a new generation of queers.

We just ask you continue being you, and being safe, and you will see that day come we guarantee. Even if it doesn't seem like it.

This world is a dark room covered in oil, we are a small candle of hope. And when it seems too dark, our hope will light the room with a burning fervour. To free us from this room. To burn down our prison.

We love you and appreciate you for who you are, please continue as you're the only one of you.

"in the dark we endure, and in the light we fight for who you call impure"

happy transgender visibility day

- The Queer Wizard Council <3 <2

@skyethebisexualwolfwizard

@im-a-wizard-who-dont-crime

@thebutterflyoficeandwisteria

@bisexualchemistry

@sassy-piece-of-parsley

@flirtyambiguouswizard

@ballisticallytestedwensleydale

@the-moth-wizard-of-mayhem

@aroace-wizard

@serious-tabaxi

@agentldiddy

@parkyrtheelvishbard

@autistic-dinos-and-dragons-lover

@a-goose-in-a-trenchcoat

@sapphicdragons-3

@transgender-wizard

@jhomikle

@cynical-artificer

@anne-androgynous-android

@asheslab

@luminethefoxincabin13-ts

@incrediwizard

@amethyst-aster

@ash-the-tiefling

@shittest-wizard-ever

@bi-gender-sorcerer

@somecallmekay

@be-gentle-with-littluns

@ladyofspoons

@slymewitch

@alchemical-overreaction

@frogpantsthebloodgod

@yourlocalbreadenthusiast

@mango-lord-of-poison

@detectivewizzard

@the-necrobotanist

@lixorloveslicorice

@hyper-lynx

@chaos-wizard-nyehehe

@song-de-lune

@lord-devere

@waluigis-elbow

@so-um-brasileiro

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sl-newsie · 4 months

Text

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 1: Stuck

Birmingham, England, 1919

Much like America, it is an empire of industry. Giant factories tower over the slums and shacks, with drunks, thieves, and whores alike all sulking in the shadows. Smoke and ash cloud the sky and block out what little sun there is, as well as fill everyone’s lungs with foul air. With sparks flying everywhere it’s a miracle nothing catches fire. The gloomy and dreadful atmosphere is enough to make anyone faint, vomit, or lose hope altogether.

But I’ve got something these folks do not.

I am an American.

While that may not be astonishing to some, to me it means that I’m independent, as well as rambunctious and a bit of a rebel even for my culture. My family always says I’m too rash and stubborn, and that it will diminish any chance of me finding a husband and settling down for a proper life. But I’m in no mood to marry, so sue me for actually enjoying my life.

However, at the moment I seem to be in a bit of a pickle. You see, I don’t travel much. Yes there’s the occasional trip out of state, but never in a million years did I think I’d ever go to England. Of all places, my family chose to vacation in Manchester, England. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful country with gorgeous countryside views and polite accents… that is until you reach the deep city. Then it gets bustling and dangerous, which is how I came to be where I am now. We decided to travel by train, stopping in Birmingham on the way to London before we headed home. Lord knows why I decided to stray away and get a better look at the intriguing shops, but after an hour of desperately searching for my family it finally sunk in that I was, quite frankly, alone. Talk about a dumb-headed move on my part. I passed back and forth through the train station for hours as night fell, growing more and more worried about what kinds of danger Small Heath, Birmingham has hiding in the darkness.

Right now, people are giving me mixed looks of pity, confusion, and judgment. I know I’m not much to look at, with my messy blonde hair stuffed under a simple hat and my slim figure dressed in a gray dress with black heels. I probably look much richer than I really am, which makes my fear of criminals spike even more.

“Might I help you, young lady?” A sinister voice calls out.

He's a drunk, I’m sure of it. A man in a ragged overcoat staggers over, and he’s reeking of alcohol.

“No, I’m waiting for someone. Please leave me alone.”

“Oh, no. You’re all alone? Perfect…” He licks his lips and starts reaching his hand out-!

“Back off! She’s with me.”

I look over and see an older man wearing a trenchcoat and bowler hat. He’s got a simple mustache, is smoking a pipe, and carrying a briefcase. Is he a cop?

“Says who, old man?” The drunk slurs.

But instead of answering, the man slugs the drunk in the nose and ushers him off. When he turns back to me the bowler hat man extends a hand to shake.

“Excuse me, miss. I’m Inspector Chester Campbell. Who might you be?”

“I- I’m Verena, Verena Steenstra.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Verena. I’m here for private matters, sent by Churchill on account of a BSA munitions robbery. I am here to weed out prime suspects and possibly recover some stolen items that belong to the Crown. You wouldn’t happen to know an Arthur or Thomas Shelby, would you?”

I shake my head. “Sorry, can’t say I have. I’m new to these parts, just having arrived from America yesterday.”

He nods. “Well it’s best if you don’t, miss. They’re ruthless, the lot of them. Gangsters, bookmakers, racketeers. The gang they’re part of call themselves the Peaky Blinders. You best be getting indoors instead of wandering these dreadful streets at this hour.”

When Campbell sees my uneasy expression he frowns. “You do have a place to stay, right?”

“Actually sir, I was… left here by mistake. My family left hours ago and I’ve been here ever since.”

Campbell’s eyes soften a little. “I’m sorry to hear that, miss. If I knew the area I’d find you an inn or hotel, so the most I can do is guide you to the desk clerk in the train station.” He gestures for me to follow him and leads me over to the back desk, where a middle-aged lady is typing. “Hello, would you happen to know where this young lady might find any lodgings?”

The lady gives me a once-over and tilts her head. “Maybe ask Harry at the Garrison. That’s a local pub nearby. You can’t miss it. Just ask for Harry.”

We thank her and head back outside, where it’s starting to get dark.

“I’m sorry to leave you here, but I’ve got my own appointments to attend.” Campbell grips his briefcase and waves to signal a passing cab. “You’ll be alright?”

I try to give a convincing nod. “Yeah, as good as I can I guess. Good luck with your investigation.”

“Best of luck to you too, miss. You’ll need it if you want to survive this wicked city.”

And with that, the inspector climbs into the cab and is driven off. Leaving me, once again, alone. But at least this time I have an idea of where to go and what to do. I tightly grip my small suitcase and begin walking down the bustling streets, trying my best to ignore the… less than Christian crowd that hovers around.

“God does not care if you live in a slum or in a mansion!”

A man’s voice draws my attention, and I look to find the source coming from down the street. He sounds Jamaican, and seems to be a minister of sorts.

“God does not care if you are rich or you are poor!”

I approach slowly, not wanting to interrupt. “Excuse me, sir? Where would I go to find the Garrison?”

The man frowns at me, confused. “What’s a lass like you doing in this part of town? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

“I understand that. I’m looking to find a place to stay, so I’ll ask again. Where can I find the Garrison?”

The man looks at me as if I’ve signed my own death note, then points to the building down the street. “There. But God be with you if you want to persevere with what kind of men go in there.”

I thank him and walk towards the building. It’s definitely a pub, because there’s drunk men staggering out and vomiting everywhere.

“Look out!” Someone shouts.

Without warning, a small person plows into me and sends us tumbling into the dust.

“Dear God, what on Earth…?” I gather myself up and get a look at the person, or should I say kid. He’s a young boy with a conservative haircut, wearing dark pants, a white shirt, and gray vest. One might say he dresses just as professional as any stockbroker.

“I’m sorry!” He says in a worried manner and looks as if I’m about to slap him. “I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

I gotta say, seeing this boy speak in an English accent is downright cute!

I kneel down to seem less intimidating and hold out a hand. “Hey hey, it’s alright, kid. It was an accident. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He nods and shakes my hand, now looking at me differently. “You sound different.”

“I’m American, from New York. Now what was it you were running from?”

“Oh, right!” He points to the alley he just ran from. “I’m playing hide-and-seek with my aunt.”

I frown. “And you’re out here, in the dark, at this time of night? It may not be my place to say, but you should probably go back inside. Where’s your aunt now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well that’s not going to get us anywhere. You got a name?”

He smiles and nods eagerly. “I’m Finn, Finn Shelby. I’m 10 going on 11!”

“Wow, that’s old! So Finn, how about you head inside with me and we can find a way of contacting your aunt? That sound alright?”

“Finn! We were looking for you!” A man comes walking up, wearing dark clothes and a cap. When he sees me next to Finn, the man’s eyes darken. “Who are you?”

I ignore his question and look at Finn. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, he’s my brother John.”

Now I know that I can trust this man. “I’m nobody. Just a lost tourist who’s looking out for Finn.”

The man looks confused. “Why? You don’t know him.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’d look out for him as if he was my own child because no kid should be wandering around at this time of night.”

He scoffs. “What are you, some nun or midwife? Doesn’t matter. Come on, Finn.” John takes the boy’s hand and starts walking away.

“Nice to meet you!” Finn calls before they’re out of sight.

“Goodbye!”

Now to get back to the task at hand. While being as inconspicuous as possible, I sneak past the gruff men and enter the strangely quiet bar. I gotta say, it’s surprisingly clean. Compared to the filthy world outside you’d think the king himself would eat here. But I know better. I can tell this place has seen its fair share of violence, but I give credit to the barman for keeping it spiffy. Gruff and sketchy-looking Brits sit scattered all over the room. Murmured conversations ghost around the room, confirming that this is yet another place I shouldn’t be at. A few turn their heads, but seem uninterested… for now. I hold my suitcase close and discreetly make my way to where the barman is standing.

“You don’t know me, but the desk clerk at the train station said to ask for someone named Harry.”

The barman, just like everyone else, seems to think I’m a fish out of water. “I’m Harry. What do you want?”

“She said you could tell me where to find a place to stay. I’ll pay what I can, I swear. I just need somewhere to sleep until I can find a way to get back to America.”

His face changes. “America? You mean you’re stuck here?”

“For the time, yes.”

First Harry goes to say something but then seems to look over at someone behind me. This changes his demeanor and he gestures for me to sit.

“Can I get you anything?”

I shake my head. “I don’t drink.”

“I do,” a woman’s voice says behind me.

A dark-haired woman wearing a gray suit sits up next to me, her face being shielded by a hat.

Harry nods respectfully at the woman and pours a shot of whiskey. “On the house, Polly.”

She gladly takes the glass and downs it, looking at me with calculating eyes.

“Name’s Polly, love. Polly Gray.”

“You seem to be a woman who knows what she’s doing, and how to conduct authority,” I reply.

“And you seem to be a woman who has nowhere to go. Am I right, love?”

I look away and become more interested in staring at the table. “Yes, ma’am. I’m currently homeless, jobless, penniless, and on the verge of hopeless.” I look back up. “But I’ve got a song in my heart and a gleam in my eye, so that’s all I can do for now.”

Polly laughs and twirls the shot glass in her hand. “Well a song and dance isn’t going to take you far, love. It’s best if you come with me.” She stands back up and starts pulling her coat back on.

My thoughts freeze. Did I hear that right? This person, this complete stranger who has no inkling of who I am, wants me to go with them? Where? And what for? Inspector Campbell said to be careful.

“Wait- what? What do you mean?”

Polly walks to the door, unfazed by my questions. “I saw you interacting with Finn. You treat him as both a child and an adult, which is something I respect. You’re not too sour but still know when to show a firm grip. I’d like to hire you as his tutor. He needs help studying, as well as someone to make sure he doesn’t shoot his eye out.”

My jaw drops. “Shoot his… But how-?”

“Don’t ask. I have to deal with the most ridiculous idiots this side of England, you have no idea!” She scoffs as I follow her back into the inky night. “The fact is that I need a tutor, and you need a roof over your head. So, do you want the job or not?”

I try to form words but all that comes out is a babbling mess. My thoughts are fried! What reason do I have to even trust this Polly character?

“You’re conflicted,” Polly states plainly. “I can understand why.”

“Yes! Because- because I’m alone! I- I have no one to help, but everyone says I can’t trust anyone here, and then you happen to be passing by… I don’t know what to make of it!”

Polly puts a hand on my shoulder. “Love, one of the things I always go by is my faith. If fate had it so you would be here to help Finn and get my attention, then God has spoken. My trust is not so easily won over, so I suggest you consider this chance very seriously.”

She’s right. Everything’s led to this. Besides, she’s right. I need a job.

“Yes, I accept your kind offer.” I hold out a hand and we shake. “Thank you, Mrs. Gray.”

“I may be your employer but there’s no need for that formality. Polly’s fine, love. And yours?”

“Verena Nora Steenstra,” my name flies right off the tongue.

“That’s Dutch, I’d imagine?”

I nod. “Yes, after my great grandmother. My father’s Dutch, my mother’s Irish.”

“Ah yes, you Americans and your mixed heritages.”

She doesn’t seem upset by it, and I’m glad she doesn’t inquire further. My family isn’t cruel, but we’re not exactly the most wanted people in New York. My uncle on my mother’s side is part of the Irish mob in Brooklyn, so our reputation is a bit strict.

Polly leads me through the dark streets and people seem to be aware not to test her. Crowds scatter away to let us pass, not even daring to meet her eye.

“You have authority here?”

“Of sorts. People know better not to start a quarrel. Here we are.”

The house itself is simple-looking on the outside, something I admire. Polly opens the door and shows me inside, which displays a traditional cross hung in the hallway. I follow her past a kitchen and into a small room near the back, one containing a simple bed and vanity as well as a single window.

“Bathtub’s down the hall. I’ll leave you here to settle in, I trust the lads will guide you through the house. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must attend a family meeting. Finn’s around here somewhere if you wish to chat.”

I set my suitcase on the bed and look at Polly with sincere gratitude. “Thank you so much. You really saved me from a tight pickle, and I promise I will do everything I can to repay you.”

Polly smiles and, to my uttermost surprise, comes over to give me a hug. “No problem, love. You seem like a decent girl, even if you are American.” She snickers and goes to walk out, then turns to say: “One more thing: when you meet Thomas, just know he’s a bit rough around the edges.”

I squint in bafflement. “Thomas? Who’s-?”

But she exits before I can finish. So just to be clear: Now I need to teach a boy from a family I just met and am expecting to meet someone who’s ‘rough around the edges.’ Yay?

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #polly gray #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #grace burgess

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afewproblems · 1 year

Note

For the prompts #39 things you forgot to say and number 23 things you were forced to say steddie hurt/ comfort

Thank you for this combo - I hope I’ve done it justice but my hand slipped and this got long and it got sad…so I apologize in advance!

“Shit!” Steve hisses, wrenching his face away from the open oven door as a cloud of hot moist air rushes out, he wipes his face with the free hand not holding the oven door handle.

“You good man?” Robin laughs from where she’s perched on the counter, her dangling legs swing joyfully back and forth.

“Peachy,” Steve mutters, grabbing a hot-cloth to pull out the baking tray, he shakes the mini pigs in a blanket around to dislodge them from the foil before putting the tray back onto the middle rack, “put on another fifteen would ya?” he says over his shoulder to Robin.

She snatches the little blue egg timer from beside her thigh and twists it to the appropriate time before placing it back onto the counter.

It's not the only snack he's prepared, granted to call it preparation would be a bit of a stretch. He had grabbed chips and pop, beer, and juice -just in case, that afternoon. It wasn't as though he hadn't needed a grocery run, and the most intensive snack was now baking in the oven, it wasn't all out, not really…

“Going all out I see,” she hums with a quirked eyebrow and a growing smile.

Steve smirks, ignoring the heat that blooms across his cheeks and ears that has nothing to do with the open oven door. She knows exactly what he's trying to do and who it's for.

Eddie had somehow, after everything, burrowed his way into their lives and never left.

And it was nice, he had a wicked sense of humor and warm brown eyes that made Steve's heart quicken in a way he couldn't quite explain.

He and Robin had talked it to death in fact, analyzing each small moment, each lingering glance or touch that had occurred between them over the last few months since Eddie had been discharged from the hospital.

Steve had even begun hanging out with Eddie alone, invited along for movie nights in the new Munson trailer.

***

“Come on,” Steve scoffs as he throws a handful of popcorn into Eddie’s face from his side of the couch, he laughs as Eddie meets the projectiles with an open mouth, “Han Solo Harrison Ford could totally take out Indiana Jones Harrison Ford, no contest!”

Eddie snorts and shakes his head sagely, “Oh Steven, sweet Steven,” he takes a long drag on the joint between his fingers and blows it out through his nose, “you forget about Rick Deckard! The trenchcoat alone man!”

“Who?” Steve says as his face scrunches into a slight frown, he gestures for Eddie to pass the joint and takes a long pull before coughing roughly as the smoke hits his lungs, it’s been awhile since he’s actually smoked but, ah well, when in Rome.

Eddie grins and launches into an explanation of something called Blade Runner and the pros and cons of the retelling of something about electric sheep? He vaguely remembers the title on the Hawk Theater marquee, but he was also pretty sure that was the year he and Patty Campbell made out while The Thing played in the background, so he must have missed it. Steve feels himself drift away, slightly lost as Eddie continues to speak, he watches the way the metal-head’s hands fly around - emphatically gesturing as he lists his points. He’s so pretty like this, his eyes bright and his dimples on full display--

Oh. Oh shit.

The familiar bubble of warmth blooms inside his chest and travels up, spreading into his hands and dusting his face with a light pink that he hopes is obscured by the dim light in the Munson living room. Shit.

“Family video should have it, we’ll pick it up for next time,” Eddie hums, he reaches for the joint, letting his fingers brush Steve’s own and it feels like sparks dance along his skin.

Oh, double shit.

Eddie suddenly sits up straight, his legs slide off of the couch and onto the floor, nearly toppling the ashtray on the rug.

“I mean, not sure when we’ll get around to uh, to doing that though you know?” Eddie says quickly, keeping his face trained on the ashtray below as he drops the roach into it. It bounces once and hits the carpet prompting a low groan as Eddie scoops it up before the ash can stain.

“With Hellfire I mean, I don’t,” Eddie swallows, he looks at Steve once before dropping his gaze back to the floor, “you know how difficult it can be to schedule the kids and then with trying to find a place to host everyone--”

“I could have you,” Steve says, the words leap from his mouth loudly with little to no thought, “I mean, I could host,” he says quickly, his ears feel as though they’ve been engulfed in flames but he presses on, “Hellfire I mean, you know, if you want?”

Eddie’s head tilts slightly as he finally turns to look at Steve once more, his large brown eyes flick back and forth between Steve’s own before he grins and clears his throat, tucking a handful of curls behind his ear.

“Alright Big Boy, I’m preparing to be wow’d,” Eddie says as he leans back against the arm of the couch once more and brings his feet back up, stretching towards Steve - just shy of his thigh.

Steve can’t help but beam at Eddie, even as his heart hammers at a mile a minute, he leans into the ratty couch cushions as casually as possible, “Nothing but the best for his highness,” Steve murmurs as he points his face back towards Harrison Ford on the television screen.

He calls Robin as soon as he gets home that night, it’s late, nearly midnight, but she still takes his call - much to the disapproval of her parents.

Thank God for Robin Buckley.

“When are you going to get your own line Robs,” Steve huffs once Mrs. Buckley finishes scolding him for the late hour, he’s lucky she bothered to even get Robin for him but Steve has managed to ever so slightly charm Mr. and Mrs. Buckley over the last year or two. He’s fairly certain they think he and Robin are dating, but if that’s the case they haven’t said as much.

“Not all of us are rich you dick,” she yawns into the receiver, “now spill it, what's so important that you’re calling this late?”

“I..I think,” he swallows, the silence on the other end of the line makes the words stick in his throat, “I like someone, uh I’m kind of freaked out about it Robin…”

"You like Eddie, you mean?" Robin says, so matter-of-factly that Steve almost drops the phone, he scrambles to keep ahold of it, “Steve?” Robin’s confused voice floats out of the receiver in soft tinney tones as he brings it back up to his ear.

"How did you--”

“You’re not exactly subtle dingus, plus you had a crush on me before so I’ve gotten pretty good at seeing when you’re mooning over someone,” she says with a laugh in her voice, it finally manages to pull a small grin out of him.

Steve groans, pressing the heel of his hand into his left eye until stars flash in his vision, “What the hell am I going to do Buckley? I’ve offered my place to host Hellfire”.

“Why on earth would you do that?” She hisses in exasperation.

“It just came out!”

She sighs and it crinkles in his ear like static, “Well then,” she hums after a beat, “we’re going to need a game plan”.

***

Steve shakes his head slightly, and winks at her, "You know everything I do is to impress you Buckley," he snarks back, flipping the oven door closed with a snap. Steve grabs a discarded tea towel from the counter to wipe his hands before he stretches the fabric out into a lax bridge between his hands, he spins the towel suddenly and whips it out to catch at Robin's jean clad knees.

She squawks and leaps away from the counter with a wide grin, "asshole," Robin says affectionately, snatching the makeshift weapon away from him.

She wanders over to the fridge, popping open the door and leaning down to inspect the shelves. Robin huffs out a breath, "I don't think I've ever seen this many drink options outside of a literal vending machine," she turns slightly to look over her shoulder, "not impressing anyone my ass".

Steve rolls his eyes, ignoring the flutter of nerves in his chest, it wasn’t the first time he had hosted the kids for a game night but this was the first time for the rest of the Hellfire group and the first time Steve would be meeting Eddie's friends and bandmates.

It shouldn't be as nerve wracking as it is.

"Is it too much?" he asks lowly, crossing his arms over his chest, it had been Robin’s idea after all to cater to their stomachs, as the old saying went.

Robin stands up with a can of coke in hand, she cracks the tab and sips it, her eyes never leaving his face, she stares contemplative for what feels like an eternity before eventually rolling her eyes.

"Nah, as much as it pains me to say, I think it’s pretty perfect,” she tips the can towards him as if in a toast, “plus, if he still hasn’t caught it yet I'm sure you'll have to really spell it out.”

Robin gestures towards the fridge with a wry smile, "perhaps using the bountiful drink selection you have for us".

Steve snorts and feels his chest slowly begin to unclench, "don't tempt me Bobs" he mutters under his breath.

A shout and chorus of groans and, 'what the fuck man's’ ring out from the living room where the group have set up, Steve snorts at the mutinous tone in Mike's voice which carries farther than any of the others.

"Better get a move on with the snacks, the mob is getting restless," Robin says sagely before grabbing a handful of chips from a nearby bowl.

Steve swears if he rolls his eyes harder they'd fall out, but he grabs two bowls and makes his way over to the swinging door connecting the kitchen to the dining room.

The sounds of arguing increases, as Steve steps over the threshold, he smiles fondly at the sight of the kids. Will has his face in his hands, he's seated cross legged in one of the dining room chairs, Lucas is seated next to him with an arm on his shoulder, his eyes volley back and forth watching Dustin and Mike snarking at each other.

Mike is standing, leaning over the table and gesturing emphatically at the plastic mat draped over the wood surface of the Harrington dining room table.

It had belonged to his maternal grandmother and had been collecting dust since Steve had been old enough to reach the stove, old enough to be left on his own while his parents traveled for work.

At least now it was finally being put to good use, maybe not as Nana Marino intended, but Steve didn't think she would have minded.

Dustin stands as well and picks up a small model, thrusting it into Mike's face, "look me in the eyes and tell me you think that's a good plan," he snarls as Mike swats at Dustin's hand, the plastic goes flying as Mike's hand connects.

"Hey, hey," Steve shouts as Dustin pushes Mike away by the shoulders, "break it up, Jesus Christ you two".

He sets the snack bowls on the table, ignoring the huff from Lucas who immediately moves them off the mat.

Steve rolls his eyes as he bends down to grab the discarded figurine, it's a tiny…dwarf? At least that's what Steve thinks, he's sure that Dustin has told him his character's name and that the word dwarf has been used a few times that night, but he's unsure -and the spotty paint job does nothing to make it clearer as he holds up the model to his eye line.

"Whatever Steve, you don't get it, Dustin is being an asshole-"

"Me?! You're the one-"

Steve blows out a sharp whistle before bringing his hands up to form a T shape, "Time out, Jesus, where is your mediator, your Dungeon Man?"

"You know that's not what he's called," Mike grumbles under his breath while Dustin scowls and points to the sliding glass door to the backyard.

Steve nods and pockets the figurine, ignoring the loud, 'Hey!' that Dustin bites out as he wanders towards the door.

"Relax, you'll get him back when you can guarantee no one's going to have him jammed down their throat," Steve calls over his shoulder with a smirk.

Steve slides open the glass door and steps out into the cool evening air. The sun has set but the last hints of pink and periwinkle paint the horizon, bathing the yard in blue twilight. Steve hears voices from around the corner of the house and the unmistakable smell of cigarettes floats his way as he steps closer. He's about to clear his throat, announce himself, when he hears his own name.

"So what's up with Harrington?" The first voice says, Gareth, Steve thinks to himself, he blinks at the tone, it's curious if a little…teasing?

"What about him?" Eddie says, a lighter clicks in the background before a short pause. The smell of tobacco blooms once more, stronger now than before. Steve settles against the wall of the house, it's not right to eavesdrop -he knows that, but he can't help but wait, his feet rooted alongside his mothers rhododendrons.

"I mean come on, how is it that King Steve is hosting us in this fucking 'McMansion'," another voice says sharply, Jeff, Steve thinks, ignoring the small wave of hurt at the old title.

"It's just…,” there’s a pause, “kinda weird man," Gareth says quietly. Gravel crunches and for a heart stopping moment Steve thinks he'll be caught, "I didn't think you were friends?"

Steve presses himself into the wall, willing himself to move, to run back to the house as quickly and quietly as he can, but he can’t seem to move, he holds his breath as Eddie speaks.

Eddie snorts, "You think I'm friends with a guy like that?"

The words hit Steve harder than he thought they would, cutting into his chest, settling in alongside, Bullshit, and, Asshole. They curl together and sink into his skin like a bruise.

"It's okay if you are Eddie," Gareth tries again, a soft grunt joins the words, and Jeff mutters something in begrudging agreement.

Eddie laughs.

He fucking laughs.

"You guys are hysterical, he's friends with the sheepies, and yeah he offered this house, why wouldn't we want to take advantage of it?"

Right.

Steve nods to himself, letting the last threads of hope tear apart, he slips away from the wall as quietly as possible and makes his way back to the sliding glass door, grateful he left it open, silently making his escape.

He closes it as quietly as possible and considers latching the door for a brief moment before scrubbing his hand roughly over his face.

That was the old Steve talking, the one who would have locked the doors and kicked everyone out over something as trivial as someone not wanting to be his friend. The one who rejected others before they could reject him first, who wrapped himself in barbs and venom and sneered at people who were unapologetically different. Like Eddie.

But Eddie wasn't just someone, and Steve hadn’t been King of anything for a long time.

And, unless Eddie had forgotten, Steve was fairly certain they were friends, or at least it shouldn’t have been a completely unfounded thought that he and Eddie were at least on some kind of friendly terms.

Steve shakes his head and swallows the newly formed lump in his throat.

He always did this, his heart ran ahead of his head and got itself hurt, again. At least this time he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself.

Steve sighs and tamps down the wave of hurt that sweeps through his chest, he shoves it into a corner, into a little box on its own, and shuts the lid.

It was fine, he was fine.

The kids have settled down at this point as Steve walks back towards the dining room table. Mike is laughing at something, Will's face has been removed from his hands and Dustin and Lucas are indulging in handfuls of chips from the bowls Steve had brought out earlier. One is nearly empty and at least Will has the good graces to look sheepish as he spots Steve walking in.

"Sorry Steve," Will says with a soft smile, as he grabs the bowl to hand over, "We might have gotten a little carried away".

Steve smiles but it's tight at the edges as he reaches out to take the bowl, he can feel Will's eyes on him as he moves to the other side of the table towards the kitchen door, "don't worry about it little Byers," Steve mumbles mostly to himself. He misses the worried glances that Will and Dustin exchange with one another as he walks back into the kitchen.

Robin has left her perch on the counter to stand beside the oven, magazine in hand, she doesn't look up as he walks in and places the bowl on the counter.

Robin looks over at the egg timer with narrowed eyes, "five more minutes, wanna have a look at em?" she hums as she puts the magazine on the counter, a picture of the Charlie's Angels graces the cover.

He shakes his head and grabs another bag of chips for the kids to put out, Steve resists the urge to pinch his nose --Robin knows him too well at this point to miss such a gesture.

He clears his throat, "I'm sure they're good Robbie, let me just bring more fuel for the goblins out there".

Steve meets her gaze for just a moment, her eyes narrow at him now and trace over his face. He rolls his shoulders, shaking off her stare and turns on his heel as Robin opens her mouth to say something, he beats her to the punch, "You stare any harder, you're going to turn into the Terminator scanning me like that Robbie”.

It works for a moment, throwing her off kilter just enough for him to escape to the dining room as a laugh tumbles out of her open mouth.

The older boys have rejoined the group as Steve makes his way to the table with the refill, Dustin makes grabby-hands at the bowl which Steve hands over with a roll of his eyes.

Jeff is seated next to Dustin, his eyes trail after Steve but his expression seems neutral enough for the moment. Gareth sits in between Will and Lucas, his gaze resting pensively on the figurine in his hands, he looks up when Steve enters and a small friendly smile slowly blooms, it settles Steve - just enough to allow a small smile back.

Eddie stands on the far side of the table, where a binder has been propped up to block his notebooks and dice, his arms are crossed tightly across his chest and his shoulders form a stiff line. He’s frowning slightly at his books, if he sees Steve walk in he doesn’t acknowledge it.

Steve's chest tightens at the sight, he gathers up the second wave of hurt and sweeps it away once again, latching the lid of the box this time.

How the hell did he read this so wrong? Where was the Eddie that shared in private jokes, leaning over to share an aside to Steve that was just for them, the one who called him Stevie and slung a warm arm around his shoulders as they watched bad movies late into the night.

Had he done something, Steve wonders? Something to piss Eddie off tonight?

He wracks his brain, sifting through the events of the evening but nothing comes to mind. They had barely said two words to each other before Eddie had disappeared while Steve and Robin were cooking in the kitchen.

So where was this coming from?

Lucas leans over the mat on the table to snag another handful of chips,littering crumbs over the crudely drawn map and character models, Eddie tisks loudly and leans over to blow away the crumbs.

"You always get the best snacks man," Lucas says brightly through his mouthful to Steve, “and maybe even, make the best ones?”

Dustin, Will, and Mike all turn expectantly to Steve, Dustin and Will with open hopeful expressions and even Mike has removed his perpetual scowl to look at Steve with something closer to begrudging anticipation.

“Yeah, it should be done right away here, gotta keep you assholes well fed before you go out and terrorize Waterdeep right?” Steve

"Since when does King Steve know D&D?" Jeff asks with a laugh, his eyebrows crease together incredulously and he and Eddie share a look.

“Jeff,” Gareth mutters at the same time that Dustin says, “I’ve been trying to convince Steve to play with us for ages but--”

“Pfft, Harrington? Play Dungeons and Dragons? I’d know if Hell had frozen over Dustin,” Eddie scoffs as he sits down roughly in his seat behind the binder, from where Steve is standing it obscures Eddie's face before he leans back in the dining chair.

Right.

Steve nods once and clears his throat before turning away from the kids, he avoids Dustin’s gaze which burns into the side of his face, “I think the timer is about to go, I’ll uh, be back in a sec”.

He walks swiftly in three strides towards the door, letting his foot catch it as it swings open with a thunk.

“What the fuck Eddie,” Steve barely hear’s Mike’s muffled words through the closed door as he walks towards the counter and snatches the hot-cloth from where it lay next to the timer. They offer little comfort as he wrenches open the oven door.

“Steve?” Robin says softly, she’s using her wounded-bunny voice that he absolutely hates. He ignores it and the way it makes his chest clench again, the box is getting too full for this.

“Steve,” Robin says again, she reaches out to touch his shoulder but he keeps moving and grabs the pan from the oven. A few of the pigs in a blanket are burnt, the dark brown, almost black, singing on the edges mars just of a few of them.

It’s the last straw of the night.

“Fuck,” he snarls, slamming the tray onto the stovetop with so much force that one of the pigs goes flying, he winces as it hits the floor.

Steve bends in half to grab it, ignoring the sting as the hot pastry and meat connects with his fingers. He tosses it into the sink with a muffled metallic thud.

“Jesus Steve,” Robin hisses at him, her eyes dart back and forth between his face and the closed kitchen door, “what the fuck happened in there?”

“Nothing Robin, just drop it,” Steve growls as he wrenches the cupboard open and takes out a large plate. He can’t do this now, not while everyone is still here.

“Steve?” a small voice says from the door, Dustin slowly walks into kitchen, approaching the pair of them like wild animals, “I wanted to--”

“Oh shit, right,” Steve says, deflating as he remembers.

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his nose before pulling out the small dwarf model from his pocket, Steve tosses it over to Dustin who just manages to catch it.

“Sorry man,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head as he schools his expression into something flatter, more neutral, “completely forgot about him, if you want to wait a second I’ll get these on a plate you can bring them over to everyone--”

“No, Steve--”

“I think we have mustard in the fridge and maybe a little relish left, I’m not sure what all goes with these guys,” Steve mutters, crossing to the fridge, he opens the door and sticks his head in.

“Steve--”

“Or what everyone else likes, um, you know what, just take all of these,” he sighs, gathering up the bottles and jars in his arms, he brings them over to the counter beside the plate and brings his foot back to kick the fridge door closed once more.

Steve turns off the oven and haphazardly tosses the remaining pigs onto the plate before turning around to Dustin and Robin. Dustin’s face is pinched and red, his mouth cast into a deep troubled frown, while Robin scowls with narrowed eyes but the smallest hint of worry seeps through.

“Anyway,” Steve mumbles, avoiding their gaze, “don’t destroy the house, just let me know when you go, and I’ll lock up”.

Steve sighs again and sweeps his hair away from his face, “I think I’m just going to go lay down for a bit, migraine,” he says, lifting his hand to gesture towards his forehead.

It’s not even a lie, a steady ache has been building behind his eyes since he overheard the elder Hellfire members talking in the yard. He tosses the cloth in his hands on the counter and turns to the main hallway to head upstairs.

“Have fun,” Steve says softly before sweeping away down the hallway.

Steve makes it about halfway up the stairs before he hears light foot-falls on the carpet behind him, he glances over his shoulder to see Robin following silently.

She’s still looking at him with an irritated scowl but her worried blue eyes undercut the ferocity he’s sure she is going for, Steve sighs and continues climbing, knowing she wouldn’t listen to him even if he told her to go.

Steve opens his bedroom door and flips on the light for them, wincing at the sudden brightness, he closes his eyes and walks until his knees hit the bed and lets himself fall gracelessly onto the mattress. He hears Robin wander over to the desk lamp, turning it on with a small snick, she crosses the room again and flicks off the ceiling light before closing the door and joining him on the bed.

“So,” she hums, prodding him roughly between the ribs with a rigid pointer finger, Steve jolts and makes a muffled squawk into the covers, “are you going to actually tell me what’s wrong or are you going to take it out on more pork products?”

Steve rolls over slowly onto his back before bringing his lower lip up to chew on. Robin’s eyes grow softer the longer he takes to speak, he has to tell her.

“I was wrong Robin, we were wrong, he practically hates me,” Steve whispers to the ceiling, he feels her shift on the bed beside him, inching even closer.

“Eddie??” Robin whispers as she reaches out to place her hand firmly on Steve’s chest and rubs a soothing circle over his heart, “you-- no, that’s not true”.

“I overheard him,” Steve says eventually, he clears his throat and reaches up to wipe his eyes which have begun to sting, damn migraine, “outside when I went to grab them, they were talking about me”.

Her hand freezes and her fingers clench into his sweater, Steve reaches up to gently pry her hand away, he offers a firm squeeze of her smaller palm.

“What did he say Steve,” she whispers, her eyes dart over his face, as though cataloging each small change in his expression.

Steve chews his lip again, this time, keeping a careful lock on the words before they tumble out, “just leave it alone Robbie,” he says softly, “I just want to forget this ever happened”.

Steve turns over onto his side, pillowing his head under his arm. He scootches over to make more room for her.

Robin hesitates for just a moment, turning towards the door with fire in her eyes, before Steve tugs on her hand, stealing her closer, down beside him.

Robin sighs as she curls up, she reaches over with her one free hand and pokes his chest again, hitting him square in the sternum, “he didn’t deserve you anyway, he’s your Tammy Thompson,” Robin says shrewdly, nodding once to herself, “and my villain origin story,” she mutters after a beat, under her breath.

Steve closes his eyes and nods silently, the words are meant to be comforting, he knows, but what little balm they contain do not help with the ache deep in his chest.

Steve opens his eyes as Robin kicks at his foot, probably harder than she means to, she at least has the good graces to look sorry.

“I mean it dingus,” she murmurs, “I wouldn’t lie to you, and us single losers have to stick together after all”.

Steve laughs brightly and pulls her closer, letting himself bask in her warmth.

She wasn’t wrong, at least they had each other, and maybe, for now, that was enough.

You can read Part Two Here

#afewproblems writes #afewproblems answers #platonic stobin #Robin is a great friend #hurt and comfort #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #One sided Steddie #This went in such a completely different direction that I was intending but #I do hope its still enjoyable #and maybe we're going to have to see what the heck Eddie is thinking because that kid has some splaining to do #Hurt Steve Harrington #Robin is not afraid to throw hands #Gareth is trying to keep the peace #this got so long somehow #also #this prompt was so hard to conceptulatize #so I really hope that the things that Eddie forgot to say and the things that Steve was forced to say were relatively clear!

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deancaskiss · 2 years

Text

i’d marry you with paper rings

Summary: In all honesty, Dean wasn’t sure why he had that stupid thing in his pocket. He’d picked it up at the end of a hunt, so long ago now that it had found a permanent place in the bottom of his jacket pocket. But now, with a monster breathing down their necks, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to give to Cas... right? It was just for a case. It didn't mean anything. Except, Cas starts wearing it all the time, and now Dean can't stop thinking about it, and suddenly, Dean realizes maybe this is what he's wanted all along. If only Cas knew the significance of one little gold band.

The one where Dean proposes without actually proposing and Cas decides he very much likes wearing Dean's ring.

Word Count: 2,786 (continued under the read more). Also posted on ao3.

Happy September 18th and Cas day! Also, happy late birthday to the love of my life @capellacas <3

In all honesty, Dean wasn’t sure why he had that stupid thing in his pocket. He’d picked it up at the end of a hunt, so long ago now that Dean couldn’t remember what the hunt had been, or why he’d taken it, or what reason he had for keeping it. The damn thing had been wedged into the bottom of his jacket pocket for so long he’d almost forgotten it was there.

Until now, on this damn hunt, when Dean had shoved his hands deep into his pockets in a panic, eyes darting around to see if he could find anything that could serve as a distraction to keep him and Cas out of danger.

And that’s when his fingertips grazed over it. A distraction. A dumb one. But it could work, right? Since whatever this monster was wasn’t coming after…

Yanking the thing out of his pocket, Dean snagged Cas’ hand, earning a huff of surprise from the angel.

“Dean, what’re you-” Cas started to say.

Instead of answering, Dean slipped a ring on Cas’ finger, flickering his eyes up to Cas’, silently pleading for the angel to understand his reckless plan.

A wash of emotions passed over Cas’ face, flickering so fast Dean couldn’t even process what Cas was thinking. Cas broke his eye contact with Dean to glance down at the gold ring, intricate patterns wrapping around the band. Silently, Cas nodded, and he looked up at Dean with this soft little smile on his face.

And, goddammit, Dean wasn’t supposed to find that look so endearing. Not when Cas was his best friend and the ring meant absolutely nothing.

But, here they were, in the middle of some dingy bar, surrounded by strangers, trying to track down this monster without getting snatched themselves, and Dean had just put a ring on Cas’ finger.

Cas took a half step closer towards Dean, and Dean pressed his weight into Cas’ side.

See? They were a couple. Nothing to see here. Just two guys. Pretending to be engaged.

Dean felt Cas’ hand brush against his sleeve, a glimpse of the ring glinting in the dull light in the bar, and he felt a lurch in his chest.

“This okay?” Dean mumbled, swallowing thickly and finally forcing himself to glance at Cas.

Cas, with a ridiculously fond smile on his face, light shining a small halo from the ring onto his cheek, gave Dean a small nod. “Yes, Dean, it is,” Cas murmured.

And that was that.

For just a few minutes, Cas was his… Cas was wearing… they were… together.

“Well, for starters, if this plan is going to work, we’re going to need a ring,” Sam said, bending down to grab his bag from the backseat of the Impala. “I might have one of Eileen’s in here…”

Dean’s eyes flickered over towards Cas who was leaning against the trunk of the Impala, only to see the angel was already looking at him.

“Do you still have the-?” Dean started to ask.

Cas instantly nodded, reaching into the trenchcoat and pulling out the gold band Dean had slipped on Cas’ finger in a rush a few weeks ago.

And there was that lurch in his chest again. Cas had kept it, safe and secure, for the last few weeks. In the rush of adrenaline chasing down that last monster, Dean had forgotten all about the ring.

But now, staring at the band resting in Cas’ palm, Dean had a sudden urge to slide the ring back into place on Cas’ finger. A desire, etched deep in Dean’s veins, to make a claim on Cas, the same way Cas claimed him all those years ago with a handprint on his shoulder.

Sam flickered his eyes up after unsuccessfully rooting around in his bag and coming up empty, only to see that Cas was holding a ring in his hand. “Where’d you get that?” he asked Cas curiously.

And Dean felt that surge again, except this time it was rushing up from his lungs and catching in the back of his throat as Cas’ eyes locked with his. “Dean gave it to me a few weeks ago.”

Sam’s head snapped up towards Dean at an alarming rate. If it were any other situation, Dean would’ve made a comment about his Sasquatch of a brother breaking his neck. But instead, the words were caught in his throat.

“Gave Cas a ring, huh?” Sam teased, a knowing smirk crossing his face.

Dean frowned, kicking at Sam’s shoe. “Shut up,” he muttered. “S’not what you- it was for a case. Had it in my pocket and needed it as a distraction.”

“Sureee,” Sam said, drawing out the word, giving Dean the sudden urge to reach out and punch him. “Well, looks like you’ll have to play happy couple again, since we need an ‘in’ for this event.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled, even as he flickered his gaze up to Cas. “You up for it?” he asked, softer this time, watching Cas’ reaction.

Cas smiled and slipped the ring back onto his ring finger, the same way Dean had done not that long ago. Something about seeing it back on Cas’ hand made Dean feel oddly weak in the knees.

“I’m all yours, Dean.”

Sam choked back a laugh, and this time Dean did swing back and smack Sam upside the head. Mostly to cover up the way his heart seemingly kicked up a notch or two hearing those words from Cas’ lips.

It was late, and Dean couldn’t muster the energy to keep his eyes open any longer. The book he had spread out on the library table could serve as a passable pillow, right? Not the best way to sleep, hunched over with his back at a rather uncomfortable angle, but truth be told, he was too tired to even attempt to get up and walk down the hall to his room.

Instead, he let his eyes flutter closed, resting his cheek against the worn pages of the book. Just as he was about to drift off, he felt a warm hand glide over his neck.

“Go to bed, Dean,” Cas murmured quietly, nudging Dean gently in an attempt to get him to move.

“M’fine here,” Dean grumbled, refusing to move even though Cas’ hand was now settling on his shoulder.

“Dean,” Cas said, a little more firmly this time. “You’ll hurt yourself sleeping here. I can keep researching while you get some sleep.”

“Can sleep here.”

“No, you can’t,” Cas said, hands shifting until the angel was pulling Dean up.

Dean swayed, letting his weight drop against Cas as they made their way down the corridor to his room.

One step. Two. Three.

Dean froze, causing Cas to stumble to a stop.

“Dean?” Cas said, steadying them both as Dean’s tired brain started to catch up.

Cas had touched him… fingers grazing across his neck. And there was… Dean swore he felt something cool and-

Reaching out, he snagged Cas’ hand and moved it up until he could see it in the dim light of the Bunker’s hallway. A soft gold glint caught Dean’s eye.

“You’re wearing the ring?” Dean murmured, his thumb tracing along the weaving pattern across the band.

There was a soft rustle, and when Dean dragged his eyes up from the ring to Cas’ face, he could’ve sworn there was a tinge of redness to Cas’ cheeks. But he must’ve been imagining it, right? Just his tired brain playing tricks on him.

Cas glanced down, and then forced them both to start moving again. “Just… forgot to take it off after the case last week.”

Humming tiredly, Dean let Cas guide them into his room. Cas stopped at the doorway, watching as Dean flopped down onto his bed. Closing his eyes, Dean let out a breath as the tiredness tugged at his consciousness.

Blearily, he cracked one eye open, catching Cas still lingering in the doorway. “Keep wearing it. Looks good on you,” Dean mumbled, before he allowed the exhaustion to pull him down down down until he was asleep.

Now Dean was aware of it, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at it. During a hunt or driving in the Impala or in the Bunker during movie night. His eyes were constantly drawn to the gold ring wrapped around Cas’ ring finger. Dean’s ring. On Cas’ hand.

And, oh God.

Dean loved it and hated it.

Because that was his ring, right there, sitting snug on Cas’ finger like it belonged there. But God, it wasn’t for the reason Dean wanted it to be.

The longer Dean stared at the ring, the longer he let his gaze memorize the way the gold band fit on Cas’ hand, the more he yearned for it to be real. For the ring to be… more than a ring.

‘He just wears it because it’s comfortable’ Dean had convinced himself. ‘It’s just Cas being Cas. It doesn’t mean anything.’

Except he wanted it to.

But Cas didn’t. Otherwise he would’ve said something, right?

So instead, Dean just stared at the ring and pined.

This was a bad idea, Dean thought to himself as the rom-com movie played out on the screen. He should’ve never let Eileen and Sam crash his and Cas’ movie night. Because now he was sitting on the floor next to Cas, stuck watching some cliche love story.

Which wouldn’t have been all that bad.

If there wasn’t some massive sappy scene currently playing where the man was pulling out a ring, snagging the protagonist's hand and holding her close as he professed his love.

Dean caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, and he carefully glanced over. Cas had his head tilted down, fingers twisting the ring back and forth on his finger, an adorable look of confusion creasing his brow.

And then, slowly, Cas was lifting his gaze to Dean’s, and their eyes locked.

“Say yes. Please, say yes. Marry me?” the man said on the screen.

Dean tore his eyes away from Cas, long enough to see the woman nod, and the man slipped the ring onto her finger, kissing the band before leaning in to kiss her.

The room felt like it was spinning, and Dean stood up in a rush, spilling the bowl of popcorn across the floor as he made a beeline for the door.

God. Oh God. Shit shit shit.

Stumbling into the kitchen, Dean leaned his weight against the counter. Why had he given Cas that ring all those months ago? Of course Cas wouldn’t want… and after seeing that… shit. How was he ever supposed to-

“Dean?”

Fuck.

Cas hesitated, taking a couple steps closer, before stalling out just before he reached Dean.

How was he supposed to turn around and face Cas? How was he ever going to be able to admit that the ring wasn’t supposed to mean anything, not at first, but now… now Dean couldn’t stop thinking about Cas that way. About Cas and him… them… together. And now-

“Do you want the ring back?”

Lungs freezing, Dean spun around, breath catching in his throat as he watched Cas twist the ring back and forth a couple times before he gently slipped it off of his finger.

And that part stung. Stung in a way Dean couldn’t even begin to explain. A stab at the way Cas rejected something Dean had given him. A burn at how Cas didn’t want it anymore. An agonizing ache at the emptiness Dean felt at seeing Cas’ hand without a ring on his finger.

“Why would I want it back?” Dean asked, a sudden rush of anger and hurt melting his lungs and causing them to move again.

“Because…” Cas started, his eyes flickering to the doorway, in the direction of the movie still playing, the distant sound of the characters voices floating down the hallway. “Because you didn’t mean it like that.”

Dean swallowed thickly. “And what if I did?” he asked, the words coming out as a whisper. “What then?”

There was a moment, when Dean finally forced himself to look up to see Cas’ expression, where their eyes locked, and Dean felt like he was drowning and floating and falling all at once.

Cas took a hesitant step forward, and then another, until he was gently nudging into Dean’s space; effectively pinning Dean against the counter, no escape and nowhere else to look but directly at Cas.

“Isn’t this a little backwards?” Cas asked softly.

Huffing out a laugh, Dean flickered his gaze down to Cas’ lips, before darting up again to meet Cas’ eyes. “What about us has ever been conventional?” Dean shot back.

There was that smile again. The same soft smile Cas had the very first time Dean put the ring on his finger.

Except now, Cas was pressing the ring into Dean’s palm, guiding Dean’s hand closer until their fingers were intertwined. Cas leaned closer, his lips hovering over Dean’s as he murmured, “Yes.”

Pulling back slightly, Dean tilted his head as he squinted at Cas. “Yes? What is that supposed to mean? Yes to what?”

Slowly, Cas guided Dean’s hand. In a very deliberate motion, he put the ring between Dean’s fingertips, and then nudged Dean’s hand forward until the band was secured back onto his ring finger again. “If you did mean it like that… I’d say yes.”

Dean laughed, quiet and breathy, as he glanced down at the gold ring, sitting on Cas’ finger again. He’d just put it there for a second time and Cas said-

“You’d say yes?” Dean repeated, dragging his gaze back up to Cas.

“Yes, Dean, I would,” Cas replied.

This time, it wasn’t Cas leaning in. It was Dean.

Dean leaned forward and captured Cas’ lips, his heart kicking wildly against his chest as Cas let out a soft little gasp before he was kissing Dean back.

Lips parting and exploring, mapping each other for the very first time. The tiny little crackled lines across Cas’ lower lip and the warmth of Cas’ mouth as Dean teased over Cas’ tongue with this own. The way Cas fully leaned into the kiss, his hands fumbling all over Dean as he pushed closer closer closer, chasing Dean’s lips over and over again.

God, if this was Heaven, Dean never wanted to leave.

The way Cas broke the kisses with stuttered breaths and dizzying gasps had Dean utterly weak in the knees. There was something about the quiet shared pants as Cas’ hand’s settled on the back of Dean’s neck that made Dean shiver; cool metal grazing across sensitive skin.

Dean tore his mouth away to catch his breath, only to have Cas chase him into another kiss a second later.

Oh God.

Kissing shouldn’t feel this good, but now that Dean had a taste of it, he never wanted it to end. Cas tasted like honey and the summer breeze and a jolt of lightning all at once. It was electrifying and Dean couldn’t get enough.

Cas tilted his head, his lips gliding along Dean’s at the perfect angle, and Dean let out a groan, slipping his hands around Cas’ waist and tugging him closer, until they were pressed firmly against the counter.

This time, it was Cas who broke the kiss, huffing sharp breaths against Dean’s cheeks before he was pressing their foreheads together.

“I thought a first kiss was supposed to come before getting engaged?” Cas teased.

Dean grinned, tilting his head up to catch Cas’ lips in another kiss, and then another, and then one more just because he could.

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who said yes. You should’ve come and kissed me sooner. I put that ring on your finger months ago,” Dean said, pressing his lips to the corner of Cas’ mouth.

Cas smiled, and Dean could feel the shape of it against his lips. Oh yes. He could get used to this. “Stop wasting time and kiss me now,” Cas mumbled, turning his head to find Dean’s lips in a proper kiss.

Tracing the outline of Cas’ lower lip, Dean leaned in and took his sweet time kissing Cas; long and deep and ever-so-slowly. By the time they came up for air, Dean felt like his lips were tingling with a hint of Grace and Cas’ eyes were glinting in the kitchen lights.

Briefly, Dean wondered if he should take Cas on a date. Somewhere nice. A first date to celebrate their engagement. But as Cas leaned in again, lips pink and swollen from kissing, Dean decided that all he wanted to do right now was kiss his fiancé breathless.

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taeyongsfemdom · 7 months

Text

"Would you believe me if i told you that I have special people who would kill anyone who's ever bothered or threatened you in any way possible, little rose?"

Taeyong stared at you confusingly as you walked around him in a circle, your thigh high boots clicking against the floor of your private study room/ sex dungeon, trying to take in what you just told him. He was in his cute little bunny pajamas and he found you on the way back to bed after getting a glass of water.

"K..kill?"

"You heard me...ever since I became your manager, there have been people who have pissed me off EXTREMELY by the way they talk to you and I, and you know that I don't tolerate disrespect"

You had called up and visited your good friend Kun and his team of five who are skilled hit men, you told him about your new side job of managing Taeyong and all the problems that came with it. There would be times where people would call you mean, controlling or your favorite term being "psycho bitch" which you just loved because it was true....you were crazy.

"I don't want you to hurt anyone, goddess! What if you get in trouble?"

A small laugh left your red lips as you pulled out a knife from your trenchcoat pocket, clicking it open and putting it right by his jawline, his breath hitching a little as you moved the blade down his chest that was covered by that pajama set you bought him.

"Did I get trouble for killing that man who was putting his hands on you, little rose?"

"N..no ma'am"

"Exactly, so don't you worry your pretty little head about anything. Goddess has this all under control"

An audible gulp was heard and you laughed evilly again as you placed the edge of the knife against his throat, your hand slid inside his pants feeling how hard his cock was. The boy was turned on from the knife that could slit his throat open, pretty sure your sick tendencies was rubbing off on him. You sat in the chair behind you and spread your legs open as Taeyong fell to his knees in front of your dripping pussy, his head trying not to fall in between your legs, your boot hanging off his broad shoulder.

"I really got turned on by how scared you were by my knife at your throat, slave. You get off on fear, don't you?"

"Yes goddess, can I make you feel good?"

"Yes you ma-"

A soft moan fell from your lips as he started eating you out, your luscious thighs wrapping around his head causing him to lick harder. You picked up a glass full of red wine and took a sip as you watched his pretty hands rub your thighs, your clit twitching against Taeyong's tounge made him hump the air beneath him.

"Such a greedy and horny boy..what do you say to me?"

You popped the knife blade back open and glided the tip of it across the pajama top, your thighs letting up off his head to let him breathe, his lust-filled boba eyes looking at you innocently with pussy juice coating his lips.

"Thank you for letting taste you, goddess! I don't deserve you"

"Good boy....now get your head back down there"

Your body was riding on the edge of exploding, your moans getting heavier and hotter as you grinded on his plump lips. Taeyong's tried to grab your hands to hold them as he drilled his tounge in you, trying his hardest to get you to cum. The blade messing with the fabric, keeping him on the edge of cutting him.

"F..fuck! I'm g..gonna cum, I'm cu-"

Your eyes rolled back as you squirted all over him, soaking the floor right under you and his face. Your legs shuddering with heavy breaths leaving your chest as you unwrapped your legs from his head. Taeyong gave you a few more licks before pulling away, looking absolutely fucked out with wet hair from your sweet juices.

"I love it when you shower me, goddess, thank you"

"Mmmmm, you really know how to work that-" Taeyong was leaning back to show you that he came untouched from eating you out, a dark blush coating his cheeks as you spot a visible stain on his crotch.

"You dirty slut, cumming just from giving me head. How pathetic"

"I...I couldn't help it, I'm addicted to you"

"As you should be, I'm the only woman you should be addicted to. And another thing, I really wanted to tie you to the wall and cover you with cuts and hickeys"

Taeyong craved pain and that drove you insane. His body being painted in red along with your kiss marks sounded like a dream, a piece of art that needed to be displayed. You watched him bite his lip at your comment as you swung your knife in your hand.

"Please hurt me next time....I want you to make me bleed"

#sub!taeyong #taeyong smut #lee taeyong imagines #sub!kpop #sub!nct

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spookberry · 2 months

Note

I mean isn't it still a sort of planet? planet is literally in the name dwarf **planet**? I don't get it seems like it's still a planet not a big deal.

The issue is that to be a dwarf planet you have to be a certain size. Its a cetegory sort of defined as objects that are similar to planets in shape but are too small to function the same way(ie they dont have a big enough mass to push things out of their path or to pull in moons). But despite existing within the belts, they're also Too Big and Too Circular to be accurately labeled as Asteroids.

What it comes down to is whether you want to view them as an exception to how asteroids should be vs. an exception to how planets should be. Science decided its neither really, they're their own secret third thing. The universe isnt built off of binaries. And personally I think asteroid and planets should be held as more of a spectrum than two opposing categories anyways. After all what is a planet if not a bunch of asteroids stacked together a round trenchcoat

#ask #pluto discourse

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Note

👏 this is so exciting!…maybe she wakes up being surrounded by the elves watching her “sleep” & Santa Ari comes in to make them all introduce themselves before shooting them out to explain to her how being HIS is going to work. (Of course the naughty little elves are listening at the door)

hello! loved this request! I hope you like what I wrote.

christmas masterlist

summary - you wake up in the north pole, being properly introduced to the men who keep breaking into your home and the giant man who is famously known as santa claus.

warning - fluff, slight attitude from some elves, swearing, slight angst.

You huff in your sleep as you feel something poking you, a small voice following. “Why isn’t she waking? We haven’t got all day.” You slowly blink your eyes open, squinting in the direction of a small man. “Ah! She’s awake! Motherfucker scared me!” Ransom jumps back, stumbling into the other men.

Lloyd rolls his eyes, annoyed with how dramatic Ransom is. They all stand around, letting Ari sit down next to you, watching as he brushes your hair out of your face as you blink up at him. “Don’t worry about them, darling. You’re safe.” He helps you slowly sit up against the headboard. Your eyes scan over the tiny men, feeling like Snow White when she woke surrounded by small men. “These are my little helpers.” He turns and motions his hands toward them, raising a brow when no one steps up.

Steve beams, excitedly moving forward with his tiny hand out. “Hi! I’m Steve! You helped me untangle from your lights, and I’m so sorry if I caused any trouble!” A slight squeal leaves him when you give him your finger to shake before he’s rudely shoved aside by Lee, who in return gets scolded.

“I’m Lee.” He crawls onto your lap, looking up at you with a snarl. “Everyone told me that I have to apologise for punching you in the face. So, I guess I’m sorry.” He grumbles as he crawls off, shoulders crashing into Lloyd’s as he moves closer.

“I’m Lloyd. I ain’t sorry for anything I did.” You stay silent as you take in their names, watching as Lloyd is pushed aside by a very excited elf.

“I’m Jake! I just have to say, you taste amazing, and I can’t get over it!” His cheeks turn a bright pink, the other’s facepalming. He slowly moves back, waving at you, causing a small smile to appear on your face from his cuteness.

Frank moves forward, “I’m Frank. I’m sorry for the mess I made when I tugged on your tinsel and for causing you to trip. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

“I’m Johnny! But the females call me Torch.” He gives you a wink before looking back at your underwear attached to him. “Oh yeah! These are also mine now! But I will be coming to collect more as your scent disappears.”

“I’m Curtis. I’m not sorry.” He shrugs, fixing the small pointed hat on his head, grumbling about how stupid he looks.

Ransom steps forward, clearing his throat and fixing the trenchcoat that fits over his stupid elf uniform. “I’m Ransom, the best looking out of all these idiots.” Small ‘Heys!’ Fill the room, most glaring at him.

Ari shakes his head. “Alright, out now. You know the deal.” He’s met with grumbles and whines but glares until they all walk down the stairs made for them and out the bedroom door. Shouts can be heard as Ari waves his hand and the door slams shut behind them. He rolls his eyes when he hears the elves press against the door, trying to hear inside.

He turns and looks at you. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?” You nod, watching as he grabs a glass of water and brings it to your lips. You smile, gratefully taking huge gulps, the dryness in your throat finally disappearing.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” Your eyes dance around the room, taking in all the pretty colours and the softness of the sheets, brows furrowed as you notice the colour. Ari’s chuckle fills your ears, and somehow it’s your favourite sound. “Why are your sheets the colour of Christmas? I mean… I get your Santa but don’t you want other colours?” You look up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Not really. The elves were nice one year and gave me this as a present, so it’s very dear to me.” He smiles, hands stroking the soft sheets before turning toward you. “Now, I’m going to explain why you are here and what that entitles.” You nod your attention on him entirely. “I brought you here because you are now mine. I might share you with the elves if they are good, but other than that, you will be known as Mrs Claus.” He raises a brow, waiting for you to protest, but you just stare at him, blinking. “You will have freedom. This isn’t a prison, so if you don’t want this. You do have a say.” You watch him become nervous as he says this as if he’s waiting for you to reject him.

You smile, hand resting on top of his. “That sounds good, but I think I’ll stay. I’ve been so lonely for so long that meeting you guys was the best thing to ever happen to me.” His thick arm wraps around you, causing you to curl into his side. “At least I got one of my presents.” He wasn’t supposed to hear that, but he’s glad he did because, with a wave of his hand, a box appears in front of you.

“I also got you a pet or pets.” Ari lifts your head, his fingers under your chin as he stares deep into your eyes. “I’m Santa. Anything you want, you will get. Any weird thing you’ve dreamt of can come true. If you want a unicorn, you’ll wake to twenty outside.” And Ari spoke the truth because he’d give up being Santa to keep you by his side forever. “Now go on, open your present.”

You beam, looking down at the box. “Are you sure it’s okay in the box? There are no holes.” Your worried voice fills the room. You carefully pick up the gift and place it on your lap.

“There, okay.” He smiles, a sparkle in his eyes. Watching you unravel the ribbon and carefully pull off the lid. A gasp leaves you as you are met with some smiling faces and some grumpy faces. There in the box were the elves.

“Oh my god! They're so cute!” You stare at them in awe, your hand reaching in, feeling them grab on and hug it. “I feel they aren’t happy being wrapped in bows, though.” You receive nods from some of them and giant smiles from the other half.

“Can we take these damn things off? Why the hell are we in a box anyway?” Ransom grumbles, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the others touch your hand. A squeak leaves him when something touches his back. Turning, he notices your other hand touching him. Quickly looking up, he spots you staring down at him with a small smile. Not going to admit that it softens his heart a bit.

You turn and look at Ari, tears in your eyes and a smile on your face. “Thank you, this is the best present I’ve ever received.”

“Hey! What about thanking us?! Were the ones in the damn box!”

You peer down, chuckling. “Thank you, you guys are the cutest present I’ve ever gotten.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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