#I can’t afford enough food to bring you to work just go home

[driftingballoons]

I love Rozenmarine, but sometimes the way her VA says “Elise” is just so

#rozenmarine #little goody two shoes #original art #Spoilers #Do you see my vision #I’ve only just passed the crow stage so I’m not fully sure what’s up yet #But she’s such a wet dog of a girl #But also damn girl stop raising my suspicion #I can’t afford enough food to bring you to work just go home #Also the way the villagers are just “oooh I know what you are >:(“ #Replace the word “witch” with “lesbian” and they’d be correct 👍🏻 #Elise out here romancing three women #Although I fumbled one she’s gone now :( #Great game so far def recommend :3

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 12

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Creampie. oral sex - fem receiving. Angst. Crying. So many feelings. Relationship issues. Eating/food issues. Brief suicidal ideation. Toxic behavior. Complicated dynamics. We're getting close to the end. You make a decision

“Knock, knock.” Your coworker hangs on the door frame, fingers clutching a brown paper bag and soda cup. “There’s a truck out front, for lunch. I guess they’re buying every Friday for the rest of the year?”

“Oh, yeah.” You vaguely remember seeing that email. You think.

“Anyway, they’re just wrapping up now and I didn’t see you go down, just wanted to make sure you knew.” She means well, you know she does. She’s always very kind to you, so you smile warmly and nod.

“I did, thanks.” She makes herself scarce after that, vacating your office with another pleasantry, leaving you to stew behind your desk, trying very hard not to look at what you packed yourself this morning, a lackluster sandwich, a cluster of green grapes. The idea of eating turns your stomach, the feeling piling onto the depths of your uneasiness, pushing you to seek comfort.

You can't bring yourself to eat, but you know you have to. You know you should be, aware you cannot survive on the same three half bites of things alone. 

If they were here... 

You glance at your phone.

Stop this. 

You flip it facedown, turning your attention back to your laptop. Focus, you have actual work to do. 

The bath has gone from scalding your skin off hot, to lukewarm too quickly. It urges you to get out, tells you it’s well past time, that if you headed to bed right now, you’d still be able to manage five hours before your alarm went off.

Fat chance. 

Instead, you drain the tub. The porcelain turns to ice within a matter of moments, and you linger in the shiver, languishing in the discomfort, muscles tense, stomach sour. You nearly let yourself rot in it, knees tucked up close, goosebumps long erupted over every square inch of your skin. 

You close your eyes as the tub refills, steaming water rushing out from the tap, slowly covering your feet, then your shins, until it’s deep enough for you to lean back in again, submerging yourself as deep as possible. 

What are they doing right now? Are they working? Are they at home? Do they miss you? Is there someone- 

No. 

You’re not supposed to be… fixating on this. You’re supposed to be taking some time, thinking about what you want, what you think is best for you. This is what you wanted. You decided this. 

You asked for this. 

Why can’t you detangle yourself from them? 

Everything twists and turns inside your brain, spinning together into a murky morass that you can’t make sense of, but it’s nothing compared to the agony in your heart. An infected, weeping, organ that sits heavy inside your chest cavity, now with a giant hole in the middle. 

You don’t even notice when the first drops of water spill over the side, eyes fixed on the ceiling. You picked this rental for the tub. It’s massive, the biggest you’ve ever seen, and the cost to secure it for the entire month was probably more than you could afford on your own, but… it’s not like you haven’t made bad decisions in the past. 

The water sloshes. 

“Fuck.” You flip off the spigot in a hurry and sink back beneath the water, letting it flow over your mouth, your nose. 

You could- 

You could take a deep breath, fill your lungs with water.

You could turn it off. 

You could make everything stop. You could just close your eyes and… rest. 

“Johnny.” You breathe, surprised. Your heart bellows, begs you to fling yourself into his arms, but warning bells go off in the back of your mind, and you chew on your lip. He shouldn’t be here. They agreed. They promised. “What-“

“Ah had to see ye.” What if something has happened? You look him over, but he seems fine. What if something is wrong with Simon?

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong-“

“Then why are you here?” It’s harsh. You cringe at the tone, at how it's so caustic, so careless, and he rubs the back of his neck, shifting unsteadily on his feet. Your resolve starts to melt, turning reticent, falling away into a slick puddle of weak opposition. He’s here. He still loves you. He’s here. 

“I know ‘m not supposed to be doing this.” He mutters, and you nod. “But… we- I miss ye darling, miss ye so much.” His cheeks are red, turning his normally tan skin a deep rogue, and he swallows between breaths. “Are ye alright? Ye look… ye look tired, love.”

“I am tired, Johnny… I’m…”

He steps forward.

You step back.  

It’s like you’re looking in a mirror.

His eyes are rimmed in stress, skin beneath them sallow, and he sags in a way that tells you he hasn’t been sleeping, bones and muscles not doing much except keeping him upright. Tears build behind your eyes, and they burn through the tip of your nose until you can’t hold them back anymore, raw agony in the form of a serrated blade cutting through your sense.

“This isn’t fair.” You cry. “Why are you here? You’re not- you’re not supposed to be here, Johnny.” His face changes, spirals through one hundred different things in the span of a second, half of them you can name. He’s still your Johnny, still the same, and you’ve never felt so homesick in your entire life, eyes stuck on the exposed skin just above his collar.

Johnny.

Your Johnny.

Simon’s Johnny. 

“Please… dinnae cry, darling. I’m sorry, I-“

“You’re so selfish.” You don’t know why you say it. It just comes out, flying from your mouth on its own. His head snaps backwards like you’ve struck him, features shifting into panic.

“No, no I’m sorry-“ A spiral swirls, sucking you in, dragging you under, and you shake your head. 

“Just… just… shut up. Please.” You whisper, fingers stretching out into the space between your bodies, tugging on the edge of his shirt. “Shut up.” The demand has more backbone now, and he blinks, confused. You can feel his heat, warm skin and breath vibrating away from his body into yours, tugging you closer and closer as you’re tipping your head back, heart overflowing with an insane, chaotic mix of emotions. You feel like you could fling yourself off the top of the tallest building in this city, and he’d still find a way to catch you.

He'd always find a way.

They both would.

“Darling-“ He's worried, rife with it, imbued with the sense of a logical man, but you don't care. You can't. You're already on a path, already made a decision, anticipated an outcome. And now... you want it. 

Rules be damned. 

“Kiss me.”

“I understand how you feel.” 

“No you don’t!” You turn your back on him, shaking your head. “You don’t, Simon. You don’t know how it felt to sit there and listen to that doctor call Johnny your HUSBAND! How it was to realize you two are married! It was like… it was like I don’t even exist! Like I’m a footnote, in your story.”" 

"We're not, I told-"

"I know what you said. It doesn't change anything. Married in the eyes of your fucking boss and your entire life is as good as being married." 

“You are not some footnote in our story. You are a part of us, love.” You haul one of the blankets off the back of the couch and try to cram it into the duffel. 

“Darling, we dinnae want ye to leave.” 

“Johnny.” Simon hisses, turning to where the other part of your heart lurks inside the bedroom doorframe. “Don’t talk right now. You’ve done enough.” 

“I’m sorry, I said I was sorry, I wouldnae-“ 

“Stop.” Simon snaps, and Johnny breaks, eyes filling with tears, frustrated fingers tearing into his hair before he stomps off, bathroom door slamming so loud it could rattle the entire flat.

Your head hurts. It throbs, pulse banging around under your skin, and the walls are too close, or too tall, everything is too much. You want to sleep. You want to disappear under a heap of blankets and close your eyes. You don’t want to face this, face either of them. 

You should have just kept walking. Should have stayed outside, shouldn’t have come back. Then you wouldn’t have had to do any of this. 

“Don’t cry.” Simon whispers. “Don’t cry, darling, please. It’s alright.” You hadn’t realized you were crying, but when he steps close, tapping his forehead to yours, strong arms holding you tight to his chest, you feel the wet stain on your cheeks, the heaviness of your lashes. 

“It hurts too much, sometimes.” You whisper, and he nods. 

“I know.” 

“Fuck.” Your mug from breakfast tips over, rolling towards the sink, and you vaguely register the brown trickle of coffee that spills over the side.

“I’ll clean it up,” Johnny’s mouth sucks a mark into your belly, shoving the rest of items that sit next to you away, either to the floor or across the countertop, hiking your knee up in their place. “later. Promise.” He’s still working himself lower, biting and kiss and snarling against your skin, strong, scorching hands spreading your thighs so he can bury his face in your underwear.

“Oh-“

“Darling.” He groans, and you scramble, trying to pull them free, trying to push him closer to where you ache, already wet, desperate and out of your mind. You want him to crawl inside you, stitch himself to your skin and devour you whole.

“Johnny, Johnny.” The world vibrates in a million different colors, and you fist his hair, pushing yourself up to his face.

“I’ve got ye. Gon’ make ye feel good, love.” He does. He does every time, and this is no different, the way his hands cup you, the stroke of his tongue against your clit, the way he buries himself as far as he can, eating your twitching cunt as you lay flat on your back atop your own kitchen counter, begging him to make you come.

Is this wrong? Is it? Are you betraying yourself? Are you betraying him? 

Are you betraying Simon? 

It’s too much. It hurts too much.

You need it turned off. You need your entire brain powered down, need to not think or feel or cry about anything for just a second, for a single second of this almost thirty days.

Johnny moves, teeth nipping at your neck, and you meet his lips with your own, panting against him, holding him in your arms just like you’ve been dreaming about.

“I need you.” You whimper, and he nods, a thumb against your cheek. “Please, I- I want… I want you inside me,” your voice hitches higher, delirious, and insane. “Please, Johnny. Please.” Turn it off, turn it off, turn it-

“C’mere, c’mon, love.” He brings you to the edge of the counter, touching you so sweetly, so gently, like you’re a fragile treasure sort of thing, something to be revered, to be cared for.

You’re none of those things. Not now. Not ever. 

It’s a mess, a tangled, fumbled mess of your mouth and his, your hands and his, clothes, teeth, hair. You claw at his back as he frees his cock, one foot on the corner, spread wide for him, and it takes nearly no time until he’s breaching you, heavy hardness pushing into you halfway, his eyes fluttering shut with a groan.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He takes his time, takes it slow, reintroducing you to a feeling that you could never forget, the pressure of his cock notching against your cervix, the fullness and weight of having him seated inside you. It’s so good, like home, like something you could spend the rest of your life with, or the rest of your life chasing, and you barely register the words he is whispering into the side of your face, spit and sweat and tears all running together.

Something's missing. Something's off. Something is missing, it's missing, it's-

“Move… p-please-“

“F-fuck.” He hisses. “Feel so fuckin’ good, darling. So perfect… missed ye, missed ye so much.” He babbles, pinning your hips in place, tendons in his forearms flexing as he thrusts harder and faster, moving your bodies together. “I love ye, cannae live w’out ye, darling. We cannae do it.” His fingers trace around his cock and then to your clit, where he starts to circle and rub the swollen bud exactly as you like it, muscle memory guiding his touch in just the right way, allowing him to drag you to another impending orgasm, cunt clenching down around him. “Ah fuck, that’s it. Squeezin’ me, ye-“

“Johnny.” You cry, and he kisses you, insistently, deeply, sealing you off from any air that isn’t his own, covering you entirely with his body, grinding his hips.

Your orgasm explodes between the two of you, and he shouts when he feels it, clutching you too tightly, chasing his own with a vigor that makes you stutter. Your legs jolt, closing around him, anchoring him, tying him to you, his body going rigid when he fills you with his cum.

Your kitchen is dead silent except for the echo of ragged breathing, sweat dotted skin and shaky hands still languishing together, aftershocks sizzling through your belly.

"Are ye.. are ye alright?" He kisses you, kisses your cheek, your temple, still holding onto your hand, cock still lodged deep inside of you, his cum leaking out between your legs. 

Are you alright? Are you? 

Your chest feels tight, brain desperately trying to catch up, heart bleeding inside your chest.

"Darling? Hey, look at me." He shifts, cupping your jaw and you blink at him, mouth moving without words. 

You wallow there, in the silence, in the little space that exists in this moment, in the in-between. 

Neither of you speak. He pulls back to cradle your face, and you see the tears again, fat ones that roll down his cheeks, illuminating the brilliant blue blaze of his eyes.

What have you done? 

You stare at each other. Realization starts to form, panic fluttering in the ache between your ribs.

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Oh god, oh what did you do, what did you-

The shrill shriek of his cellphone interrupts, forcing both of you to turn to look at the screen that proudly displays the name of the caller.

Simon. 

#peaches writes #dead disco #john soap mactavish #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #simon ghost riley #john mactavish #soap x ghost x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader

[adonis-koo]

sweet nothing • 5

(In which he is most definitely sick)

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word Count: 2k

Previous | Next

Note: I'm back AGAIN, simply because I can't get enough of these two!!! they're my life line these days tbh! i know I said there wasn't a lot of plot to this BUT....theres definitely some plot if you squint

“Are you sick?” 

Jungkook looked horrendous, it was evident he hadn’t showered yet, as his hair was somewhat oily, wild and unbrushed, his voice was raspy and the moment he greeted you good morning, it was evident he was congested. 

“I don’t get sick.” Jungkook replied, but his voice alone gave away the discomfort he was feeling, he sat at the small table attempting to eat but after two bites and the pure agony of attempting to swallow, he gave up. 

Your lips parted before closing once more, a sigh escaping you, “If only that were the case,” this had been your concern since he had come home late a few days ago, soaked to the bone and freezing cold. 

Yesterday when he had taken you out you noticed he had been sniffling, but aside from that he sounded totally find, today he looks like he had been hit with a car.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “I have three board meetings today, a stack of paper work in my office that needs to be signed and a deal tonight at the Red Light, I can’t afford to be sick.” 

“Jungkook,” You chastised softly, “Do you even hear yourself? I don’t think anybody is gonna want to be around you when you sound like that. What are your symptoms?” 

“I’m not-”

“Yes you are!” You spoke over him, your expression shifting into anger at his stubbornness, “whether you like it or not! You’re sick. Now tell me so I can figure out whether I need Jimin to call the doctor or not.” 

Jungkook groaned as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in thought before he reluctantly spoke, “My throat feels like it’s on fire. Even speaking feels like I’m swallowing a dagger.”

“And I have a massive headache,” He ushered softly, eyes closing as he rubbed his head.

Your expression softened once more, “Why don’t you go lay down? I’ll call for Jimin to get the doctor and make sure you’re alright,”

“I am alright.” Jungkook replied, puffed up at your words, one glare however shut him up.

He tiredly blinked as he sunk into his seat, “I can’t just take the day off.” 

“Then do what you can from bed.” You said with a frown, “But you’ll make others sick and yourself worse if you go out today.” 

He said nothing got a long moment before he shook his head and got out of his chair, your eyes followed him across the room until he left, somewhat surprised at his lack of argument.

Yeonjun who had been digging through a folder off to the side briefly glanced up to the closed door and then to you, “That’s a first.”

“Pardon?” You asked.

He smiled, “Jungkook letting someone boss him around. It’s a rather nice change of pace.” 

You scratched your cheek, uncertain of how to take the his words, your lack of reply only made Yeonjun continue though, “Y’know he used to..,” He cut himself off, as if realizing it wasn’t his place to meddle, “Sorry, I won’t bring it up. I’m sure neither of you want to dig up the past.”

The past…You gave a sad smile, picking at your food, “It’s alright, there’s nothing to dig up, Jungkook was a nice acquaintance back before I was pregnant, if you could even call him that. Nothing more…Yoongi is his partner, right?”

Yeonjun frowned, looking away warily before he eventually nodded, “You’ve met?”

You shook your head, “Only once, a long time ago, informally might I add.” 

“Do you want me to ring for Jimin?” Yeonjun decided to change the subject, “That way you can finish eating?”

You nodded with a grateful smile, “Yes! That would be quite helpful.” 

Jungkook looked downright annoyed as the doctor poked and prodded at him before he had finally come to a conclusion.

Turning to you as it was evident Jungkook was not in a good mood, “The good news is that it’s only a case of tonsillitis.” 

You sighed in relief before you asked, “Is there bad news?”

“It’s a bacterial infection, so we’ll need to put him on antibiotics. Lots of rest and warm, soft foods will help, he should be better in a few days at most once the antibiotics are in his system.” The doctor gave a warm smile.

“Few days?” Jungkook’s brows pinched together in annoyance.

“I’ll be sure to keep him rested.” You cut over him with a smile, “Thank you Doctor Choi.” 

“Of course Y/n, I will see you on Friday for your check up.” He gave a short bow before existing the room.

“I can’t be in bed for a few days!” Jungkook immediately piped up, though you didn’t miss the slight wince in expression at the obvious pain he was feeling.

“Doctors orders.” You gave him a sweet smile as you held your hands up.

He slumped back, glaring through his bangs at nothing in particular, “Can you at least get my laptop?” 

You let out a noise of amusement as you stood up, one hand on your stomach, the other on your dully aching back, “I didn’t realize having strep throat made your legs not work.” 

“You want me in bed or not?” 

“I’m going, I’m going.” You giggled as you waddled out of the room and into the open space of his office, digging through paperwork you made sure nothing was messed up, before finding his laptop charger and eventually finding the source as well. 

Opening the cracked door to his room however you smiled softly as the sight of him laid back down, knocked out once again, a soft snore even escaping him as you tutted, walking over you set his laptop on his nightstand before tenderly pulling his covers back over his shoulder. 

His expression looked so delicate when he was asleep, lips parted slightly and brows relaxed, tenderly you brushed your fingers through his hair before catching yourself. 

Your hand snapping back to your chest as if it had been burned, swallowing hard you shook your head, you had been thinking about the past a lot more these days. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if Jungkook did the same. 

Frowning you shook your head before you exited his room, there was no point dwelling on the what-if’s after all. 

Most of the day had gone by quietly, there was something different about the estate when Jungkook was home, even if he was sleeping away or working in his room, his energy still filled the air and brought a comforting feeling to whatever you did. 

Eventually the afternoon passed and an idea had overtaken you. 

“What are you doing?” Yeonjun paused at the door as he cocked his head to the side, brimming with curiosity. 

You turned towards Yeonjun with a grin, “You can’t tell Jungkook.”

He sighed, “I hate when you start a sentence with that.” 

You pouted, “I’m making him soup!” 

Yeonjun looked relieved, “Oh…okay, better than I anticipated, it does smell good here.” He glanced around the empty kitchen, “But the kitchen staff are already preparing supper.” 

You crossed your arms once more, “Well, that doesn’t change that I’m making him something to eat. There’s nothing like home cooking when you’re sick!”

Yeonjun held up his hands, “If it’s from you I’m sure he’ll love it….” He shuffled closer before peering over your shoulder, “Will there be extra?” 

“Are you asking for a bowl?” You grinned.

“Only if there’s extra.” 

“There’s plenty.” You replied with an excited smile, giving a little happy dance as you grabbed a set of bowls, proudly pouring your soup before handing one to Yeonjun who looked like a little kid snatching it from your hands. 

Setting the other bowl on a tray you tided it up with a nice hot ginger plum tea and a few napkins, “Tell me how it tastes! I’m gonna run this up to his room.” 

“Don’t you want some?” Yeonjun had already grabbed a spoon, slurping noodles. 

You grimaced, “Honestly the taste of chicken broth makes me wanna vomit, back when I had morning sickness the smell alone had me gagging.” 

“That’s a shame because this is honestly the best soup I’ve ever had- second actually,” Yeonjun smiled at his bowl, “Reminds me of my mom’s when I was sick as a kid.” 

You only smiled at his words before briefly glancing down at your stomach, large and round, you could only hope you’d make the best soup your baby would love one day. 

“Well nothing can beat mom’s soup, hopefully it’ll be second best for Jungkook too.” You laughed a little as you walked past Yeonjun, carefully holding the tray. 

You didn’t know much about Jungkook, truthfully, sure you had talked pre-pregnancy, but it always…you huffed, shaking your head.

This had been happening more frequently, memories of the past would surface and you’d have to shove them back down, the past was the past for a reason. You could only assume they kept coming up because well…

It was Jungkook. 

Knocking on his door you heard a scratchy ‘come in’ before opening the door. 

Jungkook was sat up in bed, looking tired as he typed away on his laptop, eyes dragging towards you before you noticed them brighten just a little. 

His eyes then dropped to the tray before he stiffened, “Why are you carrying that?” 

“I can-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Jungkook had already gotten out of bed, swaggering up to you before grabbing the tray. 

“Ask Yeonjun next time.” It was difficult to take his chided words serious when he was rasping this hard, a wince visible on his face as he continued, “If you drop that-” 

“How many times do I have to tell you,” You huffed, “I’m pregnant, not dying.” Your expression softened a little as a small smile tugged on your lips at the sight of his floppy bangs covering his eyes in a sulky manner, “Lay back down, I made you something to sip on. I always loved warm broth when I was younger.” 

Jungkook set the tray on his nightstand as he sat back down at the edge of the bed, staring down at the steaming bowl, his expression nonpulsed for a long moment. 

“You do like soup right?” You shuffled a little nervous at his quietness. 

“Who the fuck doesn’t like soup?” He quipped, “I just…” He glanced away, “You didn’t have to do that…” 

“Of course I did!” You replied immediately, “If I don’t then who will?” 

Jungkook parted his lips before closing them, sighing but not saying anything else as he propped his nightstand up, it extended upwards before turning towards him, he paused before taking a sip, “Well don’t just stand there.” 

You glanced around the room, not much had changed, a few chairs still against the wall, a particular spot open to the wall, opposite to a mirror on the other side of the room hanging. 

“Have you considered redecorating?” You asked as you rounded the bed, choosing to sit beside him on the empty side. 

Groaning you rested your back against the headboard as your hands dropped to your stomach. 

Jungkook shrugged beside you, “Not much reason too. I thought it looked fine.” 

He plopped the spoon in his mouth as his eyes shut. He was never a very expressive person, but there was something about that satisfied look on his face that made you smile.

“It’s alright, it's just…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling as though you weren’t as ready to have this conversation as you thought you were.

“Just what?” Jungkook’s brows furrowed. 

You forced a smile as you shook your head, “Nothing.” 

The same way you last remembered it.

You glanced at the that small open space of the wall between both the chairs, how cold it felt against your back when…

Jungkook could obviously sense the uncomfortable silence, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“The soup.” 

A somewhat hesitant smile tugged on your lips, “Of course. I’m…” Your smile became disheartened as you stood up, “I’m gonna start preparing for bed, you should get some more rest.” 

Jungkook frowned but said nothing, though it looked like he wanted to, he only nodded. 

You left his room feeling your feet drag as you closed your eyes, this feeling was something you were used to when it came to him.

This feeling of always dancing around one another, never talking about the tension in the room, except now it was even more evident then before. 

You’d have to talk about it eventually. 

I forgot all about my tags last chapter so I apologize!

taglist: @btseverafter7 @scuzmunkie @zae007live @cynicalbitch666 @somehowukook @bartisedrew @princess-sunshyn @jungk-shook-iiee @chickpea-jimin @hoseokteardrop @guk97butterfly @givemethemaknaes16 @bxcndd

#bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook imagine #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fanfic #mafia!jungkook

[ranhaitanisgf]

Congrats on 2k followers 🎉🎉🎉 may i pls request "boy next door" & "in another life" with baji. ty for ur hard work and if u do accept this ask ^^

— baji keisuke // boy next door // in another life

[𖤐] hey anon!! what is wrong with you !!! it's so sad !! omg !!! lawl jk, im sry im getting to this sooooooosososo late! i hope you enjoy all the same my lovely ! <3

wc: 1.4k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

it all seemed like yesterday. 

you had been behind the apartment complex you live in, plastic bags in hand as you kneeled down and took out multiple cans of cat food. the five cats in front of you meowed with glee, eager for you to open the tins. some of the younger one’s paws went up onto your knees, though it wasn’t enough to sway your balance from where you were kneeling. 

“yes yes, i know! just give me oneee second, and i’ll have these open and you guys can gobble them all up!” you giggled, pulling open the tabs on the cans and setting them down on the ground. as soon as you set one down, the cats would immediately flock to it, eating ferociously and almost fighting each other. 

“woahhh, let’s calm down guys…” as soon as they started fighting, you pulled some away to their own can of food, and once they were all eating, it was smooth sailing from there. 

sitting on the ground, you smiled as you watched the cats gobbling up the food. you obviously couldn’t take them all in, especially since the apartment complex doesn’t allow pets, so this was the most you could do. it hurt your heart that you couldn’t give them a place to live, but the best you could do was give them a nice meal. you had even picked up a second part-time job so that you could afford to buy the expensive cat food. 

“peke j! where are ya?!” you heard a deep voice call out. looking up, you noticed a boy with long black hair walk into the quiet area, a look of worry on his face. 

the black cat who had been happily eating suddenly looked up from his food, then immediately started bounding towards the boy, jumping into his arms with a happy meow. 

“this is where you’ve been? jeez, you had me worried…” if the boy saw you, he didn’t say anything. you smiled a bit at the situation; you supposed that the black cat had just been looking for an extra meal, which you guessed was understandable. 

“oi, i’m talkin’ to you.” looking up, you saw the black haired boy standing above you, his cat purring softly in his arms. “do you feed these cats?” he asked. the question caught you a bit off guard; you weren’t sure what you were expecting him to ask, but you’d expected him to be mad given his tone of voice. 

“yep.” 

“every day?” 

“mhm.” 

“i see…cool! i’m baji keisuke, and this little troublemaker right here is peke j. he acts like i don’t feed him, but i swear i do.” baji grinned at you, kneeling next to you to watch the cats, a goofy grin on his face. you were very surprised now, since you had expected him to be a bit standoffish. you suppose that’s what you got for judging based on a cover. 

“what’s your name?” 

“(y/n).” 

from then on, you and baji just got closer and closer. you eventually learned that the two of you lived in the same complex, and you actually lived right next door to each other. because of this, you both began to hang out a lot; you would go feed the cats behind the building together, you would walk to the convenience store together, and baji would even come to pick you up from your part-time job if it got out late. 

“i can’t have you walking home at night, (y/n).” he would say. 

it had been a little bit scary when he first picked you up on his motorcycle, but you learned to love it. it was exhilarating, and it was even more so when you were with baji. 

you would hold on tight around his waist as he sped down empty streets, yelling his head off about who knows what. despite the fact he was going fast, you trusted him and knew it would be alright if you were with him. 

the two of you would also walk to and from school, sharing the umbrella you would bring when it rained, (he was always woefully prepared for the weather) and stopping by convenience stores to get snacks for the walk home. when he started slicking back his hair and wearing thick glasses, you made fun of him non-stop, but also offered to tutor him in his studies. you two would spend hours in his room; he was usually halfway asleep until you woke him up with a flick to the forehead. in return for the help, he would bake something for you, (“i told you, it’s from my mom! i didn’t make them!!!”). 

then, he introduced you to his new friend, chifuyu, and the three of you became your own trio. you eventually met the rest of his friends; they were all in a gang called the tokyo manji gang, which sounded a little scary to you at first, but when you met them all, any worries you had before were washed away. you weren’t officially part of it, (baji refused to let you join, since he would say, “how would i be able to face your family if something happened to you?”) but you would attend a lot of meetings, showing up with baji and joking around with him. 

it was all perfect, until it wasn’t. 

you had noticed that he didn’t talk to you as much, and that he seemed to be avoiding you, which was a pretty hard task considering the two of you lived right next to each other. you would show up at his door, and he would tell you to go away. for weeks, this went on, until you finally listened. 

had he gotten tired of you? 

the last time you had even spoken with him was three weeks ago when you had found peke j. lurking around in the back on the complex again. the conversation had been short and curt. 

“hey, i found peke j-”

“thanks.” 

“wait, keisuke, can we just talk-?” slam!

it wasn’t until chifuyu showed up at your door that you were able to see him again. 

“(y/n)-chan…i’m so sorry…”

you didn’t even want to think about the worst conclusion when you had seen his red-rimmed eyes, but when he brought you to the morgue in the hospital, you knew what had happened. you saw baji’s mother sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, an empty look in her eyes as she stared at the table in the middle of the room. 

when the doctor pulled the sheet down, chifuyu had to hold you up to keep you from collapsing. 

“i wish you were here again, keisuke.” you whispered into the wind, the tears on your cheeks being dried by the cold wind. you opened two cans of soda, putting one in front of you and putting one of the grave in front of you. 

you hadn’t opened the paper in your hands yet; you were too scared to read it. what if he’d said how much he hated you? you don’t think you could handle that. 

it was something that chifuyu had given you, telling you that keisuke had wanted you to read it. 

after a few silent minutes, you put down the can of soda. with shaky fingers, you opened the small notes, your eyes already welling up with tears. 

(y/n)--

i’m sorry that i’ve been ignoring you the past couple of weeks. trust me when i say that it hasn’t been easy for me to do, but it was necessary. i guess if you’re reading this then it means i’m gone, which kinda sucks ‘cause that means i can’t confess to you in person like i wanted to. i like you, a lot. i love you. ever since that day i saw you with the cats, i think you put a spell on me or something. jesus, this is corny. my chest feels weird when i’m around you, but in a good way. i don’t really know what else to say, but i hope you can forgive me. i’m sorry. will you keep feeding the cats behind the complex? i’ll be watching. 

-keisuke 

“yeah, i will…” you spoke in between sobs. it felt like your heart had been broken into a million little pieces, if it hadn’t been ripped apart enough already. 

“please come back, keisuke…i don’t want to have to wait until the next life…”

#˗ˏˋ𖤐 tokyo revengers ˎˊ˗ #˗ˏˋ𖤐 hana’s 2k event! ˎˊ˗ #東京リベンジャーズ #東京リベンジャーズ x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tok rev #tok rev x reader #baji #baji x reader #baji keisuke #baji keisuke x reader #keisuke baji #keisuke baji x reader #baji angst #baji keisuke angst #angst #x reader #reader #reader insert #tokyo revengers reader insert

[laurieelaurel]

I saw your requests are open and I wanted to ask if you could write something about the brothers accidentally standing MC up on a date. Like they forgot or had something else to do and just missed it and left them there. Then idk maybe they’re reminded about the date later by someone and figure out how the ending goes?? Sorry if that’s not a good explanation, I’ve never really sent a request before but if you write this I am looking forward to seeing it! :D

Getting stood up on a date

Brothers x gn!reader

No worries, and what an honour to have your first request! Sorry again for the slight delay - my laptop died :,)

Warnings: slight and implied violence in Satan's, not very angsty because I'm a softie and I need happy endings

Lucifer

For the first time in forever, he isn’t drowning in paperwork. This man can finally take his well earned break, away from all the prince’s childish games and his brothers never ending quarrels. 

For the first time in over a week he can afford to lean back and tune the rest of the world out. Maybe he would take a quick trip away from the HoL so he wouldn’t be thrown surprise paperwork?

Settles for a well earned day of doing absolutely nothing. Makes himself a cup of tea and goes to bed early for the first time in a very long time.

What he’s forgotten however is the date you had scheduled. How ironic is that. The reason why he worked so hard to clear his desk was to make time for you and yet all that work had burnt him out so much he forgot to go

Meanwhile you’re sat awkwardly at a table for two in cafe lament. It really wasn’t like Lucifer to be late so you were getting really antsy, still not getting a response to your texts

It’s about an hour after your agreed time that you realise you’ve just been stood up. Did something important come up? He promised he’d have all his work done before the date… 

Lucifer wakes up bright and early the next day, feeling refreshed and… oh shit

It is only 5 am when he comes knocking frantically on your door, his eyes searching your tired face for any signs of hurt

Apologises profusely, head in his hands as he can’t bring himself to face your hesitant gaze. How terrible that he’d left you hanging there with the expectation that you’d be enjoying a date together for diavolo knows how long. 

He’s determined to make it up to you, how does renting the entirety of the amusement park to yourselves sound? How about going to Godevil Chocolatier? He’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel better, to let you know that you never deserved to be left hanging.

Mammon

He was literally a block away from the cafe when he heard a familiar voice… and not the good kind.

When he looked over his shoulder he paled, eyes meeting 4 other pairs of very angry witches. 

Sprints straight through the crowded city street, bowling over every pedestrian in sight. Takes every back alley and short cut possible, cutting through the occasional store. This group of witches is strangely persistent in their chase, their demands for their grimm never too far away. 

While all this is going on, you’re still waiting on the patio, puzzled at all the commotion in the square. You ask a group of students you recognize what’s going on and they tell you that apparently there’s a maniac getting hunted down by at least 5 angry witches after cheating on them all at the same time. They were close enough with their speculation huh. What a weirdo you think to yourself, send Mammon a text joking about the situation.

>> careful, I hear there’s an asshole who got caught cheating on 5 different girls at once

>> he’s being chased down to the ends of the earth by witches so maybe you’d be able to give him some pointers lol 

He doesn’t even read the texts, leaving you alone with two servings of pastries. 

At some point it becomes too embarrassing to stay, the customers seated near you clearly able to tell you’ve been stood up, and you order some boxes to take home the food.

The second you open the front door, Mammon is there to meet you, tears in his eyes as he sputters out a few sentences you can’t quite understand

To spare the both of you from the prying gazes of his brothers, you go to your room to talk. “It was me!” he blurts out the second the door closes behind you “I was the asshole. The one running around downtown I mean. And an asshole for leaving you like that too”

Deflated and so incredibly ashamed of himself. He could defend himself saying it wasn’t it his fault but he knew deep down that it was still his fault. He chose to cheat 5 different witches out of grimm, he had no room to complain when they inevitably came after him. His only regret is that it had to be today and it had left you feeling alone and humiliated

Give him another chance, he isn’t above begging for it, and he promises he’ll truly let you feel as treasured as you are to him

Levi

He’s been looking forward to this movie date for WEEKS MC. It’s marked on at least 6 different calendars on his various electronic devices! There was no way in hell he was going to miss it.

He stayed up all night to be able to guarantee two tickets with seats next to each other, and you actually accepted his invitation! You both made it bright and early to the theatre before too much of a line was formed and Levi decided it was his time to shine, offering to go buy you both some snacks from the concession stand.

 You’re more than happy to stay behind, waiting in the comfortable darkness of the theatre as levi does what he needs to

That would be if things went to plan (and things most certainly did not!)

Some schmuck took it upon themselves to cause a scene today of all days, and somehow Levi has now somehow found himself stuck in the growing crowd. The time until the start of the movie only got closer and closer as his annoyance started to grow faster and faster. 

For the first time in 2 whole months, Levi accidentally summoned Lotan through sheer irritation, causing a huge mess in the foyer while you and everyone else in the theatre remained unaware.

You’re starting to wonder just what the odds of Levi bailing on you would be, checking your DDD about every second now 

You’ve been sat awkwardly with no date and no snacks for about 15 minutes when the doors of the theatre are thrown open dramatically and a dark figure runs over to your seat

There are more than just a couple things you have to tell him off for when you notice just how… dishevelled? and panicked he is - hold up why is your hair wet??

“I-I’ll explain everything later!” he whisper-shouts, eyes hesitantly meeting yours

 “I’ll make it up to you and - oh no, how long did I leave you for?” he moans, eyes darting around nervously, “This was all my fault and I… I’m not deserving of your forgiveness but, argghhh!”

“-It’s alright Levi, it really is - the movie was something you were looking forward to as well though, so how about we just watch? You only missed a few minutes after all…”

>> the rest of the movie was great, though getting out of the half flooded theatre at the end was not…

Satan

It really isn’t like Satan to forget things. As disorganised and chaotic as his sin might be, he likes to hold himself higher than that, keeping all his underlying rage hidden as he shows his gentlemanly facade to the world. 

That being said, that rage bubbling away under his skin is still there, and it would do all the lesser demons good to keep that in mind when approaching him. 

Apparently the one standing before him didn’t get the memo, snarking away in front of him, as if being part of the exchange program would save him from that ugly side of him. 

With little more than a second to rethink his actions, Satan lunges over the library table and violently grabs the demon’s throat.

Snarling incoherent curses and profanities, he shoves him against a nearby bookcase, his mind screaming for his rage to be let out

.

It’s about a half hour later than the time you’d agreed on with Satan and it’s starting to dawn on you that being stood up was actually an option.

Is it really though? You ask yourself; it’s a cat cafe, surely he wouldn’t miss out on this for the world!

That’s what you reason with yourself as you convince your brain to wait just a few more minutes because surely he was just running a little late, right? There’s no way he would have forgotten, right??

The amount of relief that washes over you as you see his figure pushing through the crowded streets is impossible to describe in words an- “wait why are you covered in blood?”

Satan???

“It’s all right, it’s not mine,” he explains, slightly out of breath

“Oh, thank goodness! I- Wait-”

“More importantly, I’ve been leaving you hanging for a while now, right?” He continues, ushering you into the cafe, “I can’t exactly do anything about the fact that I’m late, so I’ll just have to make it up to you now, and on our future dates if you’d allow me.”

Asmo

 Asmo promised to treat you to a night you’d never forget sometime and went all out with a reservation to the fanciest restaurant in all of the devildom. 

It was an overwhelming social experience, watching all the well dressed and classy demons of the land walking by, making you feel like you were sticking out. Being seated at the best table in the house was also scary alone, it was almost as if the waiters and chefs expect you to be of a certain tax bracket to even be able to breathe the same air as they do

What’s worse is that your date has left you out to dry here, the very obviously empty seat in front of you letting just about everyone else know you’d been stood up. 

You feel dejected and humiliated, unable to even just enjoy the expensive food with all the very noticeable stares and whispers 

Deciding to save what little face you have left, you get up to leave only a couple bites into your dinner, leaving the fancy building onto the cold rainy streets.

Oh yeah, it’s raining now, because comedic timing is a thing apparently

You decide to suck it up and run as fast as your fancy shoes let you, your mind just left frazzled 

About 10 minutes into your jog home you hear footsteps fast approaching from behind and just as you manage to turn around you’re met with a tackle hug from the one and only Asmo

“Mc!” he cries, ushering you under a nearby tree, “you weren’t there when I went in and I got so worried!”

“...Well maybe if you hadn’t been late and left me alone for half an hour, we’d be enjoying a nice dinner right now!” you yell a bit louder than expected, though your saltiness is very reasonable.

Asmo winces at your words, he knows he’d hurt your feelings and your trust but explains that he’d been trying to surprise you with a gift 

“Not that it makes it okay for me to just leave you hanging like that though - I really should have gotten this ready for the time we agreed on, but I hope you’ll accept it anyways.” He quickly adds, hesitantly offering you the slightly wrinkled bag he was holding, “I feel really bad for abandoning you like that, so please let me make it up to you, darling.”

Beel

 It’s pretty… no, incredibly easy to get Beel’s attention if you know what to grab it with - and it really isn’t a secret what it is. 

Food. Literally any kind of food out there would cause him to halt in his tracks. 

The hunger of the avatar of Gluttony is not to be underestimated, yet he chose to hold off on eating while shopping with you to share a lunch later in the day. He really went into the outing thinking he could hold off eating for a couple of hours and yet only a half hour in and he feels as if he might as well be dying.

He really couldn’t hold in his hunger this time, and excused himself to go raid the closest fast food restaurant before you returned.

You had just left to go to the bathroom and yet when you returned Beel was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t answering any texts and you had a sneaking suspicion of what had happened.

Feeling a bit bummed at being left alone, you wandered a bit before setting off for home with a heavy heart. 

You know how hard it must be for Beel to keep his impulses under control but it still didn’t change your disappointment as you shuffled home awkwardly. 

You were only a couple minutes away from the steps of the HoL when you hear a heavy pair of feet approaching 

You turn to see Beel rounding the corner, several large bags under his arms. Letting him catch up to you, he blurts out a quick apology before handing over a sizeable amount of food and gifts

You’re left speechless at the amount of stuffed animals and assorted trinkets he presents you as Beel guiltily avoids your gaze

“M’sorry about that MC… I really am…”

“...Beel, what is all this?”

“Some things to make it up to you! …But I know it doesn’t make up for what just happened so I was thinking we go home early and we can make dinner together. Whatever you want MC, so please don’t be sad.”

Belphie

Funnily enough, the reason why the avatar of Sloth was late to your date at the dreaded petting zoo was not because he was sleeping

Honestly if he had slept in that would have been easier for you to write off than this.

Somehow Belphie had managed to get caught up in another one of Satan’s pranks on Lucifer and this time, there were consequences (shocking, I know)

Just an hour before you had planned to meet, Belphie and Satan were caught red handed trying to change the cue of Lucifer’s record player with one that was hexed to ruin all vinyls it came into contact with

Why he was trying to pull such a dangerous stunt right before your date is beyond you, but obviously the plan went south and obviously this royally pissed Lucifer off

Flash forward to now - while you’re waiting outside the zoo, excited to see the devildom animals Belphie’s stuck inside, getting lectured and very much not on his way

You've been waiting almost an hour now in the heat for your date to get here and your patience is starting to reach it's limit.

No text, no nothing! You don't know if it's even worth risking what's left of your pride to keep waiting

But lo and behold, not a moment later, you spot a very disgruntled Belphie running straight towards you

Feeling pretty hurt, you don't exactly try to hide the displeasure on your face as you let Belphie try and explain what exactly he put you through

Belphie explains as quick as he can, pointing out how stupid he himself was to even risk getting caught by Lucifer

He knows not to show any of his own annoyance since he can admit he only has himself to blame

"I know it was really stupid and I don't have any excuses. Would you be willing to give me the chance to make it up to you right now? You will? That's great then! We should see as much as we can before Lucifer notices I ran off then :)"

"...You didn't just piss Lucifer off and then... run away, did you?"

Thank you guys for 300 followers!

#obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me

[specialagentlokitty]

Bucky x reader - have hope

Heyy i was the one that asked if you write for bucky, in need of some Bucky comfort right now, could you do a bucky x depressed reader no specifics other than that, thank you! - Anon💜

TW: mentions of depression

You had never really thought about life outside of what you usually did, go to work at a job you didn’t even enjoy, go shopping, go home, eat, sleep, then do it all over again the next day.

Some people got everything handed to them without having to work for it, others had to work but had enough free time to enjoy a social life.

Then there were the ones like you.

You worked tirelessly for days on end, sometimes going weeks without a proper break just to be able to afford a basic living, to be able to afford basic things like some food and a few clothes as and when you need them.

It was exhausting, you worked through sickness after sickness because you couldn’t even afford to take time off for illnesses.

Today was no different, you finished work extremely late, and you were exhausted as you were walking home.

The streets of Brooklyn weren’t exactly safe, so you tried to keep yourself to the main streets where there were cameras and lights.

Your legs were aching, and you found a bench to sit on, taking a sip from the water bottle in your hand.

You weren’t going to be able to do this for much longer, if it wasn’t the exhaustion that killed you first, it was going to be whatever this illness you had.

You coughed a few times, taking a few small breaths.

Getting up, you began to walk again, occasionally stopping to take a few minutes to breath before you kept going.

As usual, like clockwork you passed the same man you did each night, he always seemed to do his shopping extremely late.

“You look sick.” He said.

You stopped to look at him.

“And you should live off more than pot noodles.”

He glanced down at the bag in his hand, before turning back to you.

“I don’t know how to cook.”

You hummed, nodding your head, and he fell in line with you.

At first, he used to just wait for you to leave before taking the path to wherever he lived, and then he realised you two lived close by, and no matter what he was doing he was bound to run into you.

Eventually you two started to just walk together, not saying anything, but he always made sure you got home safely.

Eventually you started holding small conversations with him as he was the only person outside of work you could speak too.

Though you never share any personal information with each other like your names or what you did for work.

It was still nice.

“Are you sick?” He asked.

You glanced up at him before turning your attention back to the path.

“No, I’m just tired.”

“Why?”

You shrugged a little bit.

“Is it because of work?”

“I guess that’s part of it.”

He nodded his head, stopping by some traffic lights to wait for it to let you two to go through.

“You should take some time to rest.”

You scoffed a little.

“Life doesn’t work like that, but you should really consider learning how to cook. Like seriously man, I can’t imagine living off that stuff is healthy.”

“I don’t own an oven.”

You whipped your head around to him.

“Seriously?”

“I can’t cook, so I don’t need one.”

You blinked a few times and turned away from him.

“Meet me at the shops again tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

You both parted at the usual street.

The following night, you waiting outside the shop for your companion, and he turned up a few minutes later.

He walked over and you held up a bag to him.

“I usually batch cook my food and had to make room in my freezer anyway. They’ve been in the freezer at work so they’re still good.”

“Don’t you need them?”

“Just take it man, it’s healthier. I’m not the best cook though so might be a little bland.”

He nodded his head, taking the bag from you, and you both made your way back down the same route you usually went.

“I’ll bring you some more each week.”

“How much do you want for them?”

“They’re free, don’t bother trying to pay me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m doing this freely, it helps keep my freezer cleared out, so I don’t mind.”

“Why do you batch cook?”

“It’s easier I guess, and cheaper.”

He nodded his head in understanding, and he watch as you sat on a bench, taking a moment to breath.

“Do you need a doctor?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You’re sick, if we go to the hospital we can get you something that’ll help. You’ve been sick for a few weeks.” He noted.

You scoffed a little bit.

“It’s a waste of time.”

“Do you not care about your own safety?”

“I’m just going to get sick again. I’ll get better in a few weeks, always do so what’s the point of wasting time and money.”

He frowned a little bit, setting the bag down and he sat down next to you.

“You overwork yourself, I have a friend who does that, I can see the signs.”

“Yeah, well that’s just life.”

He turned his head to you, clasping his hands together.

“I believe there is more to life than working yourself to your own death.”

“Some of us don’t get that luxury, life dealt me some pretty shitty cards, but what’s the point in crying about it. Just gotta suck it up, pull up our grown up pants and get on with it.”

He rose a brow at your choice of words.

“You’ve lost all hope.” He said quietly.

You gave a small shrug.

“We should get going before your food defrosts.”

You stood up, walking again and he scrambled to follow you, quickly catching up to your slowish pace.

“Not everybody has the ability to hope.”

“I understand.”

You looked at him in confusion.

He stopped walking so you did as well.

“Sometimes I have no hope, for a long time of my life I lived without hope. I didn’t even know the meaning of hope, or what it felt like. But I’m still learning what that means, sometimes I still feel like there’s no hope for me in this world.”

You slowly nodded your head.

“What gives you hope?”

“My friend gives me hope, and so does looking at the sunrise, or taking a walk in the park.”

“Really?”

He hummed a little bit, nodding his head.

“You give me hope too.”

“Me?”

“I see you every day on your way home from work, and no matter how tired, or sick, or in pain you are you still show up everyday. Maybe you don’t have a choice, but you refuse to lay down and accept the hand you’ve been dealt.”

“It’s just normal…”

“Nah, there’s more. You could just accept your fate, but you refuse. You’re working your way to trying to change it, not many people have the strength or dedication to do that.”

“I’m stuck, I’ll never be able to get out of this place. I’ll be lucky if I can even save enough more to retire on, hell, I’ll be lucky to even retire.”

He sighed a little bit.

“You have to believe in yourself more, you are trying your best.” He whispered.

“I could do better.”

“Hey, don’t say that.”

“How can I not man? I could.”

“You are trying your best, you are doing everything you can, don’t beat yourself up over that.”

You sighed, turning away from him.

“Bucky.”

You looked up again.

“What?”

“My name is Bucky.”

He gave you a little smile.

“I’m (Y/N).”

“Promise me you won’t give up hope (Y/N).”

“I can’t promise you that…”

Bucky sighed, placing his hands on his knees, leaning down a little so he could look into your eyes.

“Always have hope (Y/N).”

He gave you another little smile.

“We can both learn how to have hope.”

He picked up his bag again, and you both carried on walking while you thought about what Bucky had told you

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marvel imagine #Bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #Bucky imagine

[sterekchub]

Derek works as a trainer at an aquatic amusement park. The whales are rubbing off on him.

I’m picturing a park stuck in the 80s. The local aquatic park that should have been closed 10 years ago, and back in its glory days was overflowing with guests. And now it sits luckily to see 100 guests a day, with 80s lighting and fake plastic plants around the walkways, with the dolphin tanks empty.

Stiles is an environmental activist who comes by on weekends- their busiest days, to protest. The staff all know him by name.

Including Derek, nephew of the owner and reluctant whale “trainer”. He has no experience or education on animals other than having worked in the park since he was young. They do the best they can, but failing attendance means falling revenue, and they cut corners where they can. It also means their one orca whale left in captivity isn’t going to have a tank mate anytime soon.

But the whale shows are still one of their few draws. So three times a day on weekends, Derek pulls on his 80s wetsuit and stands by the tank throwing fish into the water for the orca to catch, and lecturing the crowd about whale facts that he could recite in his sleep.

Stiles was at his latest show, which was usual: he had always protested from outside their gates and Peter had made it pretty clear not to allow him further in.

“I thought you didn’t want to support this place?”

Stiles grins. “Who said I bought a ticket?”

“I could have you arrested. You better not be here to vandalize anything.”

“Maybe I just had questions about whales.”

Derek snorted. If not wasn’t on his prewritten script, he didn’t know it.

“You know they do better in packs, right?”

“She was a rescue and her 2 packmates died.”

“So why keep her here?”

“We are a business,” Derek sighed. “We have to make money and whale shows are the only thing that bring people in. No money, no animal care or rescue. All our animals get the best medical care and treatment.”

“That you can afford.”

Derek walked away. Stiles didn’t follow him. That night, he dreamed he was in the middle of the ocean, alone with no one around. Tired of swimming, he decided to open his mouth, but instead of drowning he found himself filling up with water like an expanding water balloon.

***

Stiles started making a habit of coming to each of his shows. And every night after, Derek would have strange dream.

“Did you know male orcas weigh about 5 tons?”

“Rosie is a female.”

A disconcerting grin. “I know.”

That night Derek dreams his wet suit is stuck during one of his shows. He tugs and pulls and when it does finally come lose, waves of blubber come spilling out. It takes him a few minutes to realize that it’s all *him*- a belly that hangs to his knees, moobs sagging down on top it, and love handles and side rolls that seem to stack on top of each other endlessly….

***

“Some orcas eat 500lbs a day.”

“She only eats 200-300 pounds.”

“Maybe you don’t feed her enough.”

“Maybe you should work here,�� Derek shot back, “since you seem to know everything.”

That night he was walking up to Rosie’s tank…except instead of seeing her, or seeing any water at all, the tank enclosure was filled with nothing but comically large foods . Derek found himself climbing up the ladder and throwing himself in, landing on top of a burger bun, which cushioned his fall….

***

“Orcas have been known to eat seals or even penguins.”

“We don’t feed her penguins. Or seals.”

“Why not?”

“Go home, Stiles.”

He can’t seem to get out of his dream. He’s in bed, and when he goes to move he finds he just…can’t. Feels heavy and weighed down and even his arms don’t seem to want to move. He opens his eyes and all he sees is a flesh colored mountain obscuring his view, pushing up against his chins, making it hard to breathe..::he wakes up gasping for air and is late to work in the morning.

****

Two weeks after Stiles first visits into the park, Derek comes into work to see a crane over the orca tank.

Peter looks less upset than Derek thought he would be losing the star of their park.

“Could try and get dolphins back.”

Peter shakes his head. “I’ve been having some words with that activist and….I must say he has some compelling ideas.”

“An animal free aquarium doesn’t bring in customers!”

“Don’t worry, nephew. This is a first of its kind idea….”

****

Derek wakes up that night to a bag over his head and someone binding his hands and dragging him out of bed.

***

A year later, a brand new sign is added to entrance to the whale stadium and tank. “Opening Next Month: Hale the Human Whale!”

Stiles sits in Derek’s old wetsuit by the feeding pen, where Derek is sitting in shallow water, no more than six feet, cheeks swollen and mouth closed around a feeding pump. Stiles checks the tank, remarking “good job, Der! Only 50,000 calories left” before jumping into the water and starting to massage and oil Derek’s mounds of blubber to try and reduce the new collection of stretchmarks that seemed to appear overnight.

After months and months of being pumped full of high-calorie slop, Derek stopped protesting. He was just a ideal whale. It had been so long since he had been able to move let alone walk, and now he could roll over and float around in this shallow tank.

When the feeding tank was finally empty, Derek rolled over and let his food swollen belly hang down, the sheer weight and pressure of the nearly half ton ball of lard take off his back. Belly rumbling, he opened his mouth and let out a long, deep belch.

Stiles laughed. “Sorry, I don’t speak whale…and now you’re fed, time to train!”

Derek was too full to care about how humiliating it was to roll over and do tricks command. He liked food. He needed more food to keep him pleasurably full and aching and increasingly heavier and heavier.

Stiles held a bucket of shrimp and said “roll!” Derek obliged, the movement causing his stuffed gut to protest and another rumbling burp escaped.

“Speak!”

“Want….more.” Derek grunted. Stiles tossed him the entire bucket and he finished it in a matter of seconds. After a few more minutes of lazily bobbing around in the water, Stiles pushed him back towards his feeding tube.

“Eat up. Show opens in a month and you need to be at least a ton by then… can’t have people thinking we don’t feed our animals!”

Derek was too busy eating to hear him.

[venusgirltarot]

What You Don’t See About This Person — [♡] ;

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, envision the person you are thinking of and then choose the pile(s) you feel most drawn to.

If you are interested in booking a reading with me, you can find my links, here

Pile 1 ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Cards: 8 of Pentacles, the moon, page of wands, 8 of swords, three of wands, two of cups, judgement, king of wands, two of swords, page of cups, the tower, knight of pentacles, temperance, 7 of pentacles

Pile 1, you don’t see how hard this person is on themselves. For some of you, maybe you put pressure on this person or expect them to do more than they can but for most of you, they put this on themselves and just believe you expect it from them because it’s what they think you deserve and they want to give that to you. They may take extra hours at work so they can afford to do more for you or take time to do extra things for you when they should be resting instead. You may be perfectly content with just spending time with them or small things like good morning and goodnight texts but they feel like you need more from them. I heard “you deserve the world and more” I won’t lie, this energy is exhausting. This reading may be short because I’m having a hard time sitting in this energy. I think it’s important that you have a conversation with this person and let them know that you don’t need all these things and them simply being there is more than enough. Maybe even bring up the idea of taking naps together or something (if this is romantic) they really need a nap. Maybe try doing things like giving them a massage or making them food. Bring up the idea of just staying home and ordering pizza and doing nothing. Not everything has to be an extravagant experience or cost a lot of money and I think it’s important that this person knows that. More than anything, they really need to sleep. I’m going to end your reading here because I really need to get out of this energy and go take a nap. I’m sorry this reading was shorter than my usual but I hope it was helpful!

Pile 2 ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

3 of of pentacles, 8 of swords, page of pentacles, ace of pentacles, ace of wands, 2 of cups, page of swords, the magician, 9 of wands, 8 of wands

Pile 2, you don’t see your person’s feelings for you. While I was shuffling before I pulled any cards, I couldn’t stop smiling. They’re feeling very nervous and may be getting encouragement and advice from those around them. They may have liked your for awhile but wanted to wait until they were able to provide a stability that they didn’t have previously. They’ve been fighting back a lot of nerves and doubts. It’s like they’re really nervous but their feelings for you are so strong that they know they can’t sit on them for much longer without telling you how they really feel. You may have noticed that this person acts nervous around you. I definitely think the feelings are mutual and you’ve been waiting for this. I heard “it’s here!!” In a really excited voice. I’m so excited for you, my pile twos. You’re everything they’ve wanted in a partner and you two may have been friends for awhile. Like a friends to lovers type of situation. Like it’s always been you but it took them some time to realize it. As much as they’re nervous, they’re so excited. They fantasize about you a lot and may have to fight back thoughts of you because they can be distracting. You take up a lot of space in their mind but they’re not really mad about it, although at times it can distract them and cause them to get behind on the things they need to be doing. Like if they’re trying to do something for work/school but it takes longer than it should because they keep getting distracted by the thought of you. I think they already have a plan. They already know what they’re going to do, they’re just waiting for the right moment or until you two see each other again. With the 8 of wands, this may be very soon. You really make this person feel whole. Like there’s a grounded energy when they’re around you and they hope they give you that same feeling of happiness, safety and stability. I’ll leave your reading here but I’m so excited for you all! Please let me know how it goes, Pile 2!!

Pile 3 ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

4 of swords, king of pentacles, 9 of cups, 4 of pentacles, the star, ace of swords, the empress, the emperor, 8 of cups, 6 of swords, page of swords, death

Pile 3, what you don’t see about this person is that they want a new beginning with you. Maybe you have struggled with the people surrounding you or some sort of grief or loss. It’s something that you and this person have gone through together. Possibly leave behind people that don’t support you, have hurt or betrayed you in some way, etc. this conflict has made you and your person close and your bond is the strongest it has ever been and your person is ready to take another step forward with you. This could be a proposal, starting a family, and for a lot of you I think this is moving in together or buying a home. You may receive help with family or take out a loan if this is moving and if it’s some sort of proposal, your person may have gotten blessing from your family or people close to you. Your person has spent a lot of time thinking about you and your relationship and they know you are who they want to spend the rest of their life with. They’re happy with you and it’s a genuine happiness that only you make them feel. They’re in love with you and being around you. They love doing mundane things with you and spending quality time with you. Maybe some of you would like to travel? Like get an RV or something and travel the world with your person and maybe they’re about to bring up this conversation with you. Some of you may be apart of the LGBTQ+ community and the people you’ve left behind may be people that don’t support you or your relationship and if that’s the case, your guides really want you to know that it’s going to be okay. Know that you made the right decision and your happiness is important and you can trust and move forward with your person. I heard “trust that you’ve made the right decision” you and your person are in this place where life and the world around you is so uncertain but you two are certain of each other and your love for each other. You two are a light for each other in a time that’s been incredibly dark for you. I keep hearing “it’s okay” and “it’s gonna be okay” Pile 3, I hope you are well and I’m sending you so much love and light! Please know that if you’re struggling in anyway, things will get better! I hope you all enjoyed the reading and I was able to give you some kind of peace and clarification.

I hope this reading has brought you some sort of peace, clarification, or happiness! Feedback is always appreciated :) have a good day or night. Sending you love and light!

࿐ mara

#free tarot readings #free readings #tarot cards #tarot reader #pac reading #tarot related #tarot requests #tarotblr #collective reading #spirituality #paid tarot readings #paid readings #tarot pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot #venusgirltarot

[chaoticgoodlawyerwrites]

Preview for HOMD Chapter 10

Hey folks! I am very tired and still pretty sick but! I know not how to rest if I am physically able to work soooo. Let's just blame my capricron sun. But now we present! HOMD chapter 10! This is, again, a joint effort with @mocheng-gusto!

---

Shen Yuan was reminded of this last unfortunate fact as he turned off his fifth alarm and read the notification to his most recent message.

✂️: Don’t forget to bring a certain special someone to our date today~ 

Fuck. Shen Yuan had completely forgotten about that part.

Not about the lunch of course. Yesterday he had been psyching himself up to “meet the family”. He was nervous but not anxious as he was putting together the outfit Mei Kexin had specifically made him buy for this occasion.

And just then was when his package arrived.

Alright yes, he had to admit that after that all other thoughts had exited his brain like an emergency evacuation. But by then he was too out of it thinking of silicone heavenly pillars to do anything but the most mundane tasks to keep himself busy!

Nothing to do about that. Fortunately at some point in the past when he’d been more mindful he’d put enough alarms to make sure he’d wake up with plenty of time to get ready, so he had time for a thorough shower and a quick breakfast, but not for anything more.

He would’ve liked to go on a jog to free himself of any restless energy but… thinking about it, he didn’t think his body would be able to take the impact. 

His musings were interrupted by his phone pinging with two new messages.

✂️: And don’t even think you can get out of bringing your man 

✂️: Remember how much blackmail material I have and won’t hesitate to use ❤️ 

Right.

That was the detail he hadn’t accounted for so far. Luo Binghe couldn’t come for quite obvious reasons, and it wasn’t like he had any desires to fess up that he was dating, married, to a mind construct, but he had other options. He’d disappoint his friend and her girlfriend no matter what, but Shen Yuan didn’t want to completely ruin their afternoon. 

Good thing he had a Plan B in mind. The problem was that he never informed his Plan B of his participation in this ruse.

No time like the present! Shen Yuan called Shang Qinghua as he was getting rid of all the gross beddings and towels.

The call was picked up on the third ring. “Bro?”

“Free food.” Best to start with his strongest cards. “I’m inviting you to lunch, with plenty of leftovers to bring home.”

Shang Qinghua was silent for a few seconds. “… Are you bribing me?”

Technically. “Are you coming or not?”

“Aww, no need to be so shy about it bro. If you were feeling lonely you could’ve just said so!” Sensing Shen Yuan’s silence as an impatient one, Shang Qinghua was quick to add. “But sure, why not.”

Shen Yuan discreetly let out a sigh of relief. “I’m sending a Didi to your place. You have twenty minutes to get yourself decent and finish whatever you’re doing.”

Shang Qinghua mumbled. “Every day you’re becoming more like your brother.”

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing! Just send me the info and I’ll be down when it arrives.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you there.” 

“Whe–” Shen Yuan hung up before he was able to get the full word out. He had a couple of cars to order and a cold shower waiting for him.

-----------

Shen Yuan, because the shopping center was actually closer to downtown due to the somewhat upscale nature of the place, got there first. Shang Qinghua wasn’t too far behind, climbing out of the didi with eyes and something like fear on his face. “Bro, what the fuck?”

“Wardrobe,” Shen Yuan said before grabbing his friend’s arm and pulling him in, putting the little strength he had worked to build to use. “Don’t worry; I’m paying.”

“No shit you’re paying!” Shang Qinghua hissed. “I can’t afford to breathe in here. What the actual fuck is going on? Are you becoming my sugar daddy? Platonic, of course; love you but not like that, bro.”

“Tch, you wish. Besides, I’m straight. I’m just paying for stuff today so don’t question it.”

“What kind of lunch are we going to that apparently requires shopping?!” Shang Qinghua asked quietly, eyes darting from side to side as if a nervous herbivore. Shen Yuan locked eyes with a sales associate in the men’s section and, spotting a sale, the person discretely hurried towards them. “Oh, my God, are you taking me to lunch with your family!? Is Shen Jiu going to be there!?! Bro, I’m noping out of the free food offer if that’s the–”

“No, it’s not with my family, sheesh,” Shen Yuan said through clenched teeth before smiling at the sales associate. In a much more polite tone, he addressed them with, “Hi. My friend here needs appropriate semi-casual attire for brunch. We have a rather immediate deadline and would appreciate your assistance.”

“Of course, sir. If sir could please follow me…” Shang Qinghua was too polite to his fellow service worker to resist their urging, but he did throw Shen Yuan a dirty look as he left him alone. He watched from a distance to be sure that Shang Qinghua didn’t pick anything out that was ridiculous but otherwise left him to it, helpfully avoiding the questions his friend had about this ‘lunch’.

He would find out soon enough as it was.

#before you ask MKX chose her own emoji in SY's phone

[thezombieprostitute]

Tenure

A/N: This is yet another entry for @the-slumberparty​‘s Bingo. This time I’m mixing together three squares: Professor AU, Caught Redhanded and Enemies. Reader is female.

Warnings: Sexism, bullying, body shaming, workplace sexism

Being an adjunct professor in any field can be such difficult, but rewarding work. Especially if you’re able to get tenure. Today was definitely on the difficult side, made worse by Professor Charles Blackwood, your current competition for the one tenure position available in the department. Even before this the two of you were always at odds. He was a pretentious shit who insisted that your time would be better spent as a housewife, “if you could find a man to take pity on you.” It got so bad you even stopped bringing in baked goods to share because he’d always use them as evidence for his case. But you couldn’t afford to make waves or fight back. He had a rich family to fall back on, you couldn’t afford a blemish on your record. 

Today, he brought his friend from the literature department, Professor Drysdale, to use your shared office. Between the two of them, you heard more comments about your size in one hour than you had in an entire month. You tried to bury yourself in work, getting back with students, TA’s, researchers and co-authors. Headphones didn’t help since the conflicting noises of music and a conversation, while trying to focus on work, aggravated you in ways you couldn’t really describe. By the time they left, your jaw, shoulders and neck were all sore from how tense you’d become. Blackwood must be upping his taunting given that the tenure decision was in less than a week but you’d be damned if you let him break you so he could win.

After double checking some of your latest work, you stood up, stretched and refilled your water. You didn’t need to check the time since Curtis, the custodian for your building, was working and that tells you it’s way late and you should be home. You smile and wave at Curtis and he nods in your direction. You quickly run back to your office and grab a couple of cookies you’d brought in for him. You might not bring in baked goods for the department, but you’ll happily still share with a friend. 

Well, maybe “friend” was too strong. You shared some food and smiled at him but all you ever really got was an appreciative grunt and an occasional “thank you” note left on your desk. You figured he just wanted to do his job and go home, something you could definitely respect. It can’t be easy, or enjoyable, cleaning up after college students for a living. Still, you hated hoarding your baked goods and Curtis was safe enough to share with. At the very least, he never told you to give up your work.

“I hope you like them,” you said as you handed him a small bag of cookies. “It’s a new recipe and I’d love to hear if they’re actually good or if it’s just me.” Curtis put the bag in his pack and nodded. Sensing you weren’t going to get anything else from him, you turned and went back to your office.

The day of the decision comes faster than you expected. Blackwood had Drysdale visit him often and the resulting stress was affecting everything in your life. You’d even burned a batch of cookies for the first time in years. You thought you were hiding the stress well, no one seemed to comment, but you did notice Curtis was actually checking in on you. For others it would likely be a small gesture but to you, it was everything you needed to keep going without crying.

You and Blackwood are in your shared office when you both receive your emails. You get two sentences in before you read, “we’ve decided to go with Prof. Blackwood for the position.” You feel so defeated, deflated and defective. You don’t bother looking at Blackwood, knowing he’s wearing his smug smirk and watching for you to start crying. 

“I told you,” Blackwood sneered, “you shouldn’t be here. You need to find yourself a blind husband and just focus on your domestic skills.”

“Please, just leave me alone,” you whisper. “You’ve won. You don’t need to bother yourself with me any more.”

“I could always offer you a consolation prize.”

“I want nothing from you other than to leave me alone.”

“But you’re so much fun to poke at! You never strike back and it makes me even more eager to be the one that finally breaks your resolve. The one that gets to finally see your tears, to earn your tears.”

“Charles, I’m too tired to give you what you want. If you aren’t going to leave me alone, I’ll just go ahead and head out for the day.” You start to pack up your work and Blackwood almost looks like he’s going to throw a fit.

“No, you will not!” He stands up, using his height to stare down at you and look more menacing. “This is my victory and I will have my prize! Now cry for me like the good girl you are.”

“Ahem…” you hear a fake cough at the door and turn to see Curtis standing there, with his phone out, very clearly recording the interaction. You turn back to Blackwood and see him go pale before he starts walking towards Curtis.

“You’re going to delete that video,” Blackwood orders. “I’m a tenured professor with connections and I will have your job otherwise!”

Curtis doesn’t move and you see the corners of his mouth turn up into an almost smile. The much larger man doesn’t put away the phone and replies, “I’m the Custodian, I’ve got dirt on everyone. And that includes those connections you used to get that tenure.” Blackwood stops his advance and you see him practically vibrating with rage, or maybe it’s fear. “Now apologize to the lady.”

“That’s not needed,” you interject. “I know it wouldn’t be sincere.”

“Want me to get him to turn down the job? I can do that in a few ways.”

“No, but thank you, very much.” Part of you enjoys talking about Blackwood as if he wasn’t there. “If I were to take the job I’d have to keep watching my back because they’d get rid of me or treat me like shit at every turn.”

Curtis finally puts away his phone, walks past Blackwood and holds out his hand to you. “I’m gonna miss you, but I respect your decision.” You shake his hand and give him a tired smile. “With your permission,” he continues, “I’d like to keep an eye on you until you leave. Make sure this one doesn’t keep bothering you.” He points to Blackwood who still looks to be in a state of shock. 

“I’d really appreciate that, Curtis. Thank you.”

It’s been several years since then and you’ve really found your place, professionally and (if things with the cute, muscular IT guy keep going well) personally. You’re hard at work setting up the syllabus for next semester when you get a phone call.

“Hello, this is Y/N Y/L/N. How may I help you?”

“Hello Prof. Y/L/N, this is Dean Vernon at Mathematics And and Research Sciences University. I’m calling about a reference.”

“Oh, okay. Would you please tell me who listed me?” You’re not surprised at the call, several of your former students have put you down as a reference and you’re happy to support them.

“It’s Professor Charles Blackwood,” Dean Vernon responded. “He’s applying for an adjunct professorship with us.”

Your mouth drops and you’re quiet for so long Dean Vernon asks, “are you still there?”

“Yes,” you snap out of your shock, “yes, I’m just surprised is all. Last I saw him, he had just gotten tenure.”

“Well that’s part of why I’m calling,” Vernon continued. “Per his credentials, he really should be in a better position. Can you tell me about your experience working with him?”

You chuckle quietly at the incredible position you find yourself in. You allow yourself to smile wide and tell him, “if you hire Professor Blackwood, you are opening yourself up to a lot of lawsuits. Last I saw him, he was trying to make me cry for the fun of it. I can only think that he listed me as a reference because he thought I’d still act like I was under his thumb. Thankfully, I’m not and can warn you not to hire him. Keep your own employees safe and do. Not. Hire. Him.”

The phone is quiet for a bit before Dean Vernon says, “thank you for the information” and hangs up. The rest of your day is spent with a big smile on your face.

A/N2: please let me know if you found the Futurama reference.

#navy and roo's sleepover #charles blackwood x reader #charles blackwood #platonic!curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett #professor!charles blackwood

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Four

“How long are you going to make me stand like this?” 

“Claire, the life drawing models do this for an hour at a time, I think you can handle ten minutes.”

“At least they get paid for it, all I get is criticism.”

“Please, try to keep your feet in the same spot, the legs are really important.” 

She sighs and readjusts, planting her feet back onto the two X’s I’ve marked on the floor with masking tape, then stands still for a good five seconds before reaching up to touch her hair. 

I sigh with frustration. “Claire…”

“Sorry, I just feel like my hair looks weird.”

“It’s fine, please can you just…”

“I’m worried you aren’t going to make me look good.”

“It’s not about making you look good, it’s about capturing an accurate portrayal of human anatomy.” 

“Ugh.” She moves her arms back to roughly the correct position, but now her torso has kind of twisted out of position, so I take my gummy eraser and start rubbing out what I’ve already drawn. 

‘Why is this so hard?” I mutter under my breath as I bring the charcoal to the page again, drawing a fresh line for the curve of her spine. It seems like no matter what I do, I can never recreate the focus I have in Ida’s studio. I’ve tried drawing in my sketchbook on the bus, in cafes, while sitting on benches at the park, but my drawings always look off, I don’t feel sure about my talent like I used to. I’m not carrying an inspirational spark with me when I’m outside of the walls of my college and yet, tomorrow is Friday. The day that we all have to lay our sketchbooks out on the floor and critique each other for the work we’ve done during the week, so really I have to come up with something halfway good. I want Ida to be proud. I don’t want the cursed Dean Cullen to be mean, although he inevitably will. His default mode is nasty, but still, I can’t help but want to prove myself. To be good enough. To be the best.

“I’m not going to move, don’t worry…” Claire says. “But I just want to say that I’m getting very cold.”

“It won’t be long, I promise.” I plead.

“Don’t life drawing models also have heaters?”

“It’s not like you’re naked. Leggings and a vest are like, roughly the same thing as a heater.”

“Not at all. And it’s almost winter. Why don’t we at least have the radiators on?”

I shudder at the thought of the last electricity bill, the memory of opening up that little white envelope and feeling like I was going to have a heart attack and collapse onto the wooden floor. It was revealed then that Claire was leaving the heating on pretty much all day from the moment the temperature dipped below fourteen degrees, for the sake of being cosy. Her parents pay for everything, including her half of the utility bills, so really, nothing matters at all to her, and I know she doesn’t really understand why we have to suffer in the cold, or why I kept telling her to buy a hot water bottle instead of cranking on the radiators every time she goes to bed. If I didn’t keep remembering to switch it off our bills would be astronomical every month. I wish I could be the passive-aggressive housemate sometimes and put a padlock on the timer. 

I’m on the student support grant, which just about covers my rent and food. I don’t think she understands that some people have to think about money, that it doesn’t just endlessly flow into all of our accounts, or materialise from thin air whenever we want a new skirt from American Apparel. 

It frustrates me sometimes, the disparity between our finances. I’d never really thought about class, or where I stood in society before I moved away from home, but now it’s all around me all the time and utterly impossible to ignore, woven into my identity. I’ve never associated with the notion of being a working class person from a working class household but when I’m here it feels as though it’s the number one thing that defines me. It saturates everything, everyone’s accents and postcodes under scrutiny. Who’s dad can afford this and that, who has to work evenings and weekends to pay their way, who gets the grant, who doesn’t. I’d never before considered the fact that Claire got a thousand euro for her Confirmation and at my house, the year of the financial crash, we had plain pasta for dinner every day for three weeks, but now it seems as though this was something I should have always been aware of. 

Shane comes into the apartment without knocking, as usual at that very moment, and Claire immediately drops her pose to skip over and embrace him, as if they haven’t seen eachother in a month, instead of every single day. He has his own apartment in Clonskeagh, but is seemingly never there. He’s become our third housemate – the one who never pays rent. I groan and drop my willow charcoal back into my plastic pencil holder. Whatever is on the page now will just have to do. 

“You alright there, Evie?” Shane says over her shoulder, never letting me just have a tantrum in peace. 

“Yeah I’m fine. Just finishing up an assignment.”

“Seems to be going well, sure you look delighted.”

I stick my tongue out at him, and he ignores me. “Bit cold in here, isn’t it?” He comments, and Claire throws her hands up in agreement. “Thank you!” She says. “I’ve been trying to tell her that all evening.”

“She’s cold because she’s in a vest in leggings.”

“That you made me wear for your drawing.”

Shane smirks. “I’m not complaining about the vest and leggings anyway. Come on, just flick the heat on for a while.” He goes over to the thermostat and flips it on expertly, like a man who lives here. Which he doesn’t. He just sleeps here three to four nights a week. Then he comes over and sits beside me on the couch. I try to close my sketchbook before he can catch a glimpse, but it’s too late. He puts his big hand in the way to block me. 

“That’s good.” He says, pointing at the drawing I’ve just done. 

“Is that the one of me?” Claire says, coming over to perch on the arm of the sofa next to him. “Oh, it is good. You made me look very pretty.”

“Not hard to do.” Shane tells her with this dreadful, flirtatious look on his face and I have to suppress a disgusted shudder. 

“It’s fine.” I say begrudgingly. “But it’s not going to be good enough.”

“I think it’s great.” Claire reassures me. “What more could they be looking for?” 

“Perfection.”

Shane lifts the sketchbook out of my hands without asking and starts flipping through it. “So what, is your tutor like some kind of dragon, or?”

I sigh. “Ida is fine, she’s honest but she’s fair. There’s just this one guy.” I take the sketchbook back off him and try to close it in my lap, but he easily slips it away from me again and resumes his snooping. 

“A student, like?”

“Yeah. Dean Cullen. He’s always horrible about my work.”

“I wouldn’t care if some random man was making comments about my work. Sure he’s hardly going to give you grades, is he?”

“No.” I say. “But I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of criticising me.”

“I doubt he sees it like that.”

“Yeah, and do you know him, do you?”

“Obviously not but he probably just thinks he’s being constructive, like.”

“He said the legs on my piece were lazy last week.”

“‘Lazy’ isn’t very constructive.” Claire agrees. 

Shane turns another page thoughtfully. “Some lads just say what they think and they don’t care about how it comes out, though. He’s probably like that.” 

“He’s not.” I insist. 

“Sounds like he’s got under your skin.”

“He hasn’t.”

“Alright so.” A pause. “Is this me?” He holds up the sketchbook on a page of drawings of a man’s head in profile. They’re done in brown pencil. He’s got a short-back-and-sides haircut and a bump on the bridge of his nose where it was once smashed with the butt of a hurl and never quite set back the right way again. 

“Yes. That’s you.” 

He looks at it again, saying nothing for a few moments. Then: “Can I have it?”

“No, I need the sketchbook intact for my grade.”

“Well, can you put it online or something then?”

“Why would I do that?”

“So I can show it to people. Sure it looks exactly the same as me. I’d make it my profile picture and all.”

“Nobody wants to see my work online.” I say, going red.

“Oh they would!” Claire says. “Everyone is doing it now.”

“On Facebook?”

“No, Instagram.”

I pause. “What is that?”

She and Shane exchange a look as though I’m some old age pensioner who just had a ‘moment’, and I sigh with frustration. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is, apparently I’m technologically illiterate.”

Claire whips out her brand new iphone to show me the cute little app that looks like a polaroid camera, and then scrolls through her feed, which is just pictures and more pictures, no text posts, no statuses, just photos. “Everyone with an iphone has it now.” She explains. “You just take pictures and upload them. You can edit them in the app and everything, and you follow your friends so you can see what they post too.”

“And everyone is doing this?”

“Yeah, it’s the new Thing. And look.” She opens up a search bar and types in the word “Art”, and immediately the screen floods with images of paintings and drawings. “You can look at what other artists are doing too. I think you’d really like it.”

“Hm.” I say. “Maybe.”

“Hand me your phone.” 

I obey her, and she starts tapping away at it. I watch as she downloads the app, signs me up for it, and then she follows both her account and Shane’s, who I can see has exclusively posted photographs of himself on the football field. Not content I’d be especially interested in, but I can always unfollow him later. She lifts the sketchbook off the couch and carefully turns to the page with Shane’s head drawings, and snaps a picture. She applies some brightening filter to it and then uploads it, and there it is. My first post on Instagram. 

“Thank you.” I say. 

“Go through my follow list and see if there’s anyone else there you want on your feed.” She instructs me. “And like, find out who else in your drawing class has it. You can all compare your drawings and leave nice comments or whatever.”

“That kind of sounds like a good idea.” I admit. 

“Listen to the good feedback, not just what stinky Dean Cullen says.” She strokes my hair affectionately. “You’re so good at drawing, I’d hate it if someone made you think that you aren’t.”

“Thank you Claire. And Shane.” I say as I get up from the couch and start heading towards my room. 

“We’re going to watch a film, if you want in.” Claire offers, but I shake my head. 

“I think I’m going to keep drawing. I can do more studies of my own feet or something.”

“Okay, whatever you want.”

Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

[drfoxweyman]

State of personal affairs (IMPORTANT)

(TL;DR will be towards the bottom for those who don’t wanna read my ramblings, but I’d prefer you did since this is important.) Hey everyone, hope you’re all doing well, I’ll cut to the point by saying that I am not. For the past… We’ll say couple of months I’ve been on something of a mental health spiral, and it hasn’t really gotten any better save for my time at the Con. Which was a nice, but very brief reprieve. The whys of this dip in my well being are pretty varied, and some of it I’m not really able to talk about, whether for personal reasons or respect for others. But to put it broadly, work has been stressful, home has been stressful, my health has been stressful, everything has been stressful, and as it stands I don’t think I can keep up with things right now. So I’m taking a small break from working on commissions, and allowing myself a bit more breathing room when it comes to my streams (which is to say the next few streams may be much smaller scale, more chill chatting streams.)  

Now before any of you who commissioned me recently panic: With my current comms I will still be updating you guys, just at a slower rate than normal, I don’t intend to leave you guys in the lurch. But if by the time I’m done with them I still feel this bad, I probably won’t reopen my queue like I’ve been doing nonstop for the past while now. At least if I can financially help it… Streams like I said are gonna be a bit more lax. I’ll probably finish Pinkie Tower, but after that? I dunno, chatting and maybe some light doodling. Dunno how this will affect Sinner’s Saturday since some kind of income would be nice, but this week we’re definitely doing something different, just have to figure out what.  And yes, I still owe you guys that Discord movie night, we’ll be doing that soon. As for how long this time off is gonna be? No clue, it might only be a few days honestly, but the longest I’m giving myself is two weeks cause I just can’t afford any longer than that. And speaking of “affording”, it’s time for literally my least favourite part of the job. The shilling™️. I probably won’t really be making much if any money during this period, so if you ever wanted to support my work with a nice tip. Now would be the time. You have no idea how much even a small tip of a few dollars can help.https://ko-fi.com/foxweyman I’m not gonna sugar coat this folks. I make peanuts on my work. That’s no one’s fault, it's just the nature of being both a small artist and streamer, it’s something I’ve come to peace with as a fact of my career choices. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t stress me out. Part of why I can never usually take breaks at all is because I literally can’t afford to.

I have rent to pay, phone bills, internet, electricity bills, hormone pills, pet expenses including; food, potential vet visits, toys, poo bags, cat litter, etc. I have to have money saved up incase of an emergency whether personal or work related (computer parts need replacing, tablet needs replacing etc), then there's house expenses; food, toilet paper, cleaning supplies; replacing anything we need etc. It’s a lot, even with our packed house.

The only reason I'm able to go to Furnal Equinox or Canfurence is because I start saving up money month after month after month as a treat to myself, and even when there I tend to bring my work so I can get my commission queue done faster and reopen them again as soon as the con is done.

I’ve been told to raise my prices but let’s be honest, I’m not at the level where I can charge hundreds upon hundreds of dollars for pieces, and while this may be a pessimistic view of my work, I probably won’t be able to any time soon. Same with stream goals, I don’t feel like there’s much I can offer right now that would be worth $500 goals or something.

I’d open a merch shop or something but that would be even more stressful upkeep, and again let’s be real. My reach isn’t big enough for that and you can only sell the same merch to the same customer base for so long.

I apologize if it seems like I’m ragging on about the money, but of all the things I’m dealing with it’s the easiest to talk about because it’s something I think at least a few of you can relate to. That and the more personal troubles cut a bit deeper and I’m not sure I even really wanna talk about them because I don’t like dragging you guys down with me. We’ve made an awesome little community and I don’t need to be hurting you with my problems. Is that the healthiest way of looking at it? No probably not but there it is.

Above all that though I just want some more time to myself and the people I care about, not fretting every second that “I could be working” or “I could be monetizing this”, instead of focusing on improving my mental health so I can be a better creator for you guys, and a better person for me. I wanna draw for myself again,even if it’s just low stakes doodles or barely cohesive comic pages, or hell even just to work on my poor draftwomanship .I wanna let myself play some games and not think “Oh I have to stream this”,  every time I do. I wanna be able to go out with my loved ones and not constantly be thinking “WHY AM I NOT WORKING ON COMMISSIONS???”

So TL;DR taking a light break, not sure how long exactly, will keep current customers in the loop, streams aren’t going anywhere but may be a bit different, please tip to the ko-fi so I can stay afloat during this time https://ko-fi.com/foxweyman

For those that read through, thank you so much, it means the world that you care enough about my mental health to drudge through my ravings. You’re truly the best part of this job. A wonderful community that I can just chat and be honest with, I can laugh and joke with you all without fear or anxiety. That’s exceedingly rare these days and I couldn’t be more appreciative of you lot.

That in mind, this took awhile to write, my hands are hurting, and I wanna go lie down, maybe allow myself a good cry. Thanks everyone. <3

- Blaire,“Drfoxweyman” 

#real life #irl #important #text psot #long #rambling #art #artist #streamer #support #kofi #ko fi support #mental health

[b2emo]

hey amiga!! what about jyn and cassian cuddling during a cold day for the one shot prompts? 🫶🏼

hola prima, i gotchu 🫶🏼 its a little long and kind of all over the place (i wrote it in the middle of the night) i hope you like it!

~

Although she grew up on the cold, wet beaches of Lah’mu, Jyn was not fond of a frigid day.

She loathed that first step out of bed before she could reach the gas fireplace to set it to a proper heat, and even more so the idea that she’d have to wait for it to warm up the house before she could get cozy.

That lamenting, grumpy expression she had drawn out on her features as she slumped over her morning caf was enough to pull a soft, quiet laugh from Cassian; he’d already been awake, preparing for the bell to signify the start of his work day.

“I can see the temperature drop has effected you.”

Jyn, mug to her lips, mumbles back incoherently for him to shut up. He laughs once again, his large hand coming to rest on her back, between her shoulder blades. He smoothes over the wool blanket that Jezzi had kept safe for him in Maarva’s old home before bringing his fingers to her soft curls. They smell of jasmine.

“I won’t be home late. I’ll see you after.”

Cassian had taken up a grappling position to gather some funds so he could pay off any and all of his debts, specifically the ones to pay off his mother’s house— and more specifically, her medical bills from before she passed all those years ago. Brasso had been in contact (and remained so, he didn’t let Cassian out of his sight) and set him up with the position the moment he felt comfortable enough to work again. Though, he didn’t think of himself much a grappler.

Luckily, his stash of credits had still been in the house, buried safe and untouched. They were enough to get him and Jyn food and clothes that helped them feel a little bit more at home and get them on their feet— and to allow Jyn to decorate their home however she pleased. She had insisted on installing heating, proper heating, not the old unit his mother refused to turn on. It was expensive (he had to take an extra shift from somebody), but it meant he could see that sleepy smile on Jyn’s features as she crawled into their bed.

It had been worth the extra labor.

Cassian kept to his word. He comes home just an hour after the bell toll. The house is quiet, which means Jyn has retired early. This was not unusual of his partner; she wasn’t fond of days too cold for her liking and spent the days watching old holos or reading Maarva’s old books in bed or bundled up by the couch. For a woman who could fight the galaxy with her raw, bare hands, he couldn’t help but smile to himself at how the cold was her one and only weakness.

His usual routine when he gets home (or as Jyn likes to call it, ‘defrosting’) consists of getting cleaned up and warm before he can join her. The routine is not much different from their shared time on Hoth, a time in their life he still wonders how she got through alive. He wipes the frost from his beard and washes it clean of any soot. His long, shoulder-length hair is combed through and cleaned before he dries it as best he can; he can’t really afford to get sick in this weather. Shifts are going to start becoming sparse.

He strips of his sleep pants and socks, sitting on the edge of the bed with a small, relieved groan. Cassian’s scarred fingers find the clasps of his prosthetic that rests comfortably under his knee, undoing the strap and freeing the healed stump from it. An old friend of Clem had made it as a gift for Cassian when they moved to Ferrix.

When he officially joins Jyn for the evening, he wraps his arms around her warm, sleeping form, gathering her in close like maybe a child would a plush loth-cat or bantha. He kisses her plump cheeks, which are freckly and pink and warm. He smiles against one as he feels her stir, her arms banding around him.

“Do you work tomorrow?” She mumbles, inhaling in the masculine, clean scent of him.

“No. I’ve got the day.”

Her socked foot rubs against his calf, a silent expression of her joy surrounding the announcement of his day off. He kisses the top of her head. Just like this morning— she still smells of jasmine.

He has plans and none at all. The ones he does have include staying home with Jyn, keeping her warm in any ways he could possibly think of. Holding her, loving her, feeding her. They slipped into the routine of being life partner’s so easily; domesticity was made for them. Who knew?

Loving Jyn was the easiest thing he’s ever done. His entire heart outside of his chest, she was.

When his eyes start to become heavy, he lowers his nose to nuzzle it against hers, bearded face rubbing tenderly against hers. He brushes her bangs away from her forehead before murmuring against it in ‘Nari, a language he is still trying to revive… to teach Jyn, and hopefully one day, another.

“I love you,” He says, close to her ear.

“I love you, too.”

They both fall asleep, warm, wrapped up in each other’s arms as snow begins to fall just outside their bedroom window.

#jyncassian #rebelcaptain #my writing #rogue one #jyn x cassian #jyn erso #cassian andor #fic #rebelcaptain fic

[penspiration-writing]

Hope's Answer Chapter 1 (VERY Rough Draft)

(I caved and decided to post the first chapter of the new draft since I haven't shared new writing in FOREVER. This will be improved upon in the future. As always, feedback is appreciated! And thank you guys for sticking with me.)

Taglist: @dogmomwrites @inkspellangel @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @mr-writes

Every monotone beep in Kasumi’s right ear made her jump as she tried to work. Orders were flying in, and she felt like she just couldn’t keep up. While the multiple server robots were patiently waiting by the front counter with their trays outstretched, Kasumi was racing back and forth between various machines, attempting to dodge coworkers left and right as she hurried to prepare numerous drinks.

            The after-5 pm rush was always the worst.

            The moment Kasumi placed one order of iced coffee down onto the server tray, she was immediately pulled back to fix up three orders of fruit smoothies. Two orders of boba tea. A single order of snack cakes, all an assortment of different flavors.

            And all the while, the customers seated at the tables were simply staring at the translucent holographic screens floating in front of their faces, tuning out all the noise as they mindlessly scrolled. The only time they ever tore their eyes away was when the server rolled over to their table with their requested food or drinks, thanking them once again for choosing to dine at “Happy Cat Café.”

            Kasumi couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. She wanted to be on the other side of the counter, blissfully sipping on a cold sugary drink while playing her favorite game. But alas, here she was – nineteen years old and forced to work.

            Nearly every day, for the past six months, it was exactly the same. Always rushing around, always fulfilling orders, until it was time to head home.

            It was horrifically frantic.

            She finally managed to finish sending off an order of two smoothies, before another beep from her earpiece screeched for her attention. With one quick tap to the glowing blue center, the holographic screen appeared before her eyes, revealing the ever-growing list of incoming orders from tables.

            Too many orders.

            Way too many to keep track of.

            How were her coworkers handling all this so much better than she was?!

            ‘Oh god…’ she thought to herself, her heart and mind both racing as she frantically searched for drink ingredients. ‘Why can’t sis just come get me already so we can-‘

            She froze, coming to a halt before she could collide into one of her coworkers, nearly making the other woman spill her drink.

            “Kasumi, be careful!”

            “I-I…” Words stuttered out of her mouth before her mind could fully comprehend her own thoughts. “I just-”

            “We can’t afford another mess right now. You know that, right?”

            Kasumi took a breath, failing to calm her shaky hands. “Yeah, I know. I just… I’m sorry-”

            The earpiece continued to insistently beep for her attention. As if everything didn’t sound loud enough already.

            “Sorry isn’t going to clear these orders.”

Averting her eyes from her coworker, Kasumi hurriedly stepped towards the blender and tapped her earpiece to bring up the list of orders once again. But as she tried to slow her breathing, all the words blurred and became jumbled together in a matter of minutes. 

She needed air. 

Kasumi quickly glanced over her shoulder. All of her coworkers were currently preoccupied, and none of the customers were looking in her direction. 

Okay, good. It was safe.

Taking a breath, she looked down at her hands before closing her eyes. In a matter of seconds, pale brown skin grew blue and translucent, as did the rest of her body and her clothes. She stepped towards the wall in front of her, moving through it as easily as a knife through butter. She didn't stop until the sunlight hit her eyes once she finally entered the alleyway. 

Seeing no one else around, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Finally…" Her body became opaque once more as she leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes to catch her breath. It was much quieter here. She only needed a few minutes to calm herself down.

It was hard keeping such an ability of her’s hidden. Kasumi had had a few close calls in the past, but had never been explicitly seen using magic in public.

'It's for the better,' Her sister Mjoll always told her. 'You don't know what people will do to you if they learn that magic exists.'

She'd never questioned Mjoll’s judgement, as her sister always seemed to be right about things, supposedly from personal experience. So Kasumi was always careful whenever she tried to use her abilities. 

She didn't want to take any risks. But once again, it seemed to Kasumi that no one had noticed a thing.

At least, until a sudden noise from within the alleyway made her jump.

She turned her head in the direction of the noise, not noticing anything at first. But after a moment, she glimpsed the movement of a shadow on the wall.

Holding her breath as she waited, Kasumi hid one hand behind her back. Focusing her magic towards her fingertips, she envisioned a small knife in her mind. This caused a faint glow to appear between her collarbones, which she hurried to cover up with her work apron. In a matter of seconds, a small blue knife was in her hand, and she wrapped her fingers around the hilt, gripping it tightly.

"...H-hello?" She called out, her voice wavering. Had she been spotted earlier when moving through the wall?

Her words were only met with an uncomfortable silence. After a few seconds, the shadow on the wall moved again, this time out of sight. Kasumi held her breath, waiting to see if anyone would reveal themselves. 

But it seemed that whoever was there had ultimately left.

Anxiety crawled along Kasumi’s back like a spider. She pondered what exactly she should do, when her earpiece suddenly began beeping again, catching her off-guard that she jumped again. She groaned, the back of her head hitting the wall again. 

Right. If she didn't get back inside soon, she wouldn't hear the end of it from her coworkers. 

So Kasumi quickly allowed her body to turn transparent once more. With a sigh, she stepped back through the wall, and was soon once again met with the cafe's pale pink walls, black and white checkerboard floor, and cute cat decor.

Her eyes scanned both the seating area and the drink-making stations, her body turning back to normal only once the coast was clear. 

Turning back to the blender, Kasumi tapped her earpiece to bring up the orders. But as she worked, she couldn’t help but glance nervously out the windows that looked outside towards the busy streets of Tokyo.

"It was just nothing, right?" She asked herself.

Unfortunately, she didn't believe her own words. Something felt different about today. 

It felt… wrong.

#writeblr #wip: hope's answer #wip #urban fantasy

[astartothemoon]

borrowed and blue // Fall

Summary:  Steve, having enough of his father's constant disapproval, needs to move out of his parents’ house. Reader is back in town after having inherited the old record store on main street, only she has no place to stay. Eddie, being friends with both, brings the two together and offers a solution. Though neither of them can afford a place by themselves, together they make enough to rent a little house at the edge of Hawkins.  Follow the two as the navigate life together and deal with the feelings that arise eventually.

A love story told in 4 seasons.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x female Reader

Trigger Warning: Swearing. Mention of alcohol. Mention of food. Slight mention of intimate situations.

A/N:  Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

FALL // AUTUMN

Fall has slowly but surely taken up residency in Hawkins. Half the leaves have turned shades of orange and red while the rest have started deserting the trees and now crunch under your boot with every step you take.

Steve’s woolen sweater does little to keep the cold out but he’d quite honestly rather freeze to death out here leaning against the backdoor of Family Video than be warm and toasty at home.

“ You’re no fun today, dingus. What’s got you looking all gloomy? “ Robin asks before stuffing her face with another bite of her turkey sandwich.

“ Honestly Harrington. You’re a real downer. “ Eddie agrees, cigarette smoke flowing like a veil around his head.

“ Way to gang up on me guys. And anyway, why are you even here? You don’t work here.”

Eddie unabashedly shrugs his shoulders. Really it shouldn’t come as a surprise to Steve. Eddie has somehow made himself a permanent 3rd party in their chaotic friendship after the events of last spring. Wherever Robin and Steve go, Eddie goes. And while he drives him crazy sometimes with his inability to stay still for even a minute and his big mouth, Steve has to admit that he enjoys having another person around.

“ Maybe I want to rent a movie.”

“ You never rent a movie! You just make us bring them around so you don’t have to pay.”

“ He’s got a point there,” Robin admits, snapping her mouth shut when Eddie throws her a sour look.

“ It’s called being smart, Harrington. You should look it up. Anyway, back to you. Why the long face? You know those frowns are gonna leave wrinkles and your face is the best thing you got going for you. No offense.”

“ I take full offense in that actually. “

He doesn’t. It’s the foundation of their friendship — teasing. It comes with the situation. Befriending someone from high school you never thought you could ever have anything in common with is weird. Not a bad weird, but weird either way.

“ Cut the crap. What’s wrong, Steve? “

Robin isn’t serious a lot. Steve thinks he might be able to count the times on one hand. But when she is, it’s a little terrifying. It makes you want to open up to her just so you don’t let her down. There’s a motherly quality in Robin being serious. Steve isn’t sure he likes it.

“ My dad had a go at me again. You know, the usual. “ You amount to nothing. You’re a disappointment. You put shame on the Harrington name””.

“ I’m sorry, dingus. “

“ I just — I can’t deal with it anymore. I need to get out of that house. Every time I look at my dad I see disappointment in his eyes and every time I look at mom I see — nothing. It’s like she doesn’t really care at all. I’m sick of it. “

“ What happened to that place you went to check out the other day? “

Steve lets out a humorless chuckle “ That was perfect and way too expensive for just me. And anyway, what do I need two bedrooms for anyway? Now if one of youuu guys — “

“ Nope. I love living with my parents. They drive me everywhere, they wash my clothes. You know I would but I’m also not stupid. I'm not leaving the nest when it’s soooo comfortable. And I’ll be off to college soon anyway so — “

It sends a shiver through him, the thought of Robin leaving. Robin and Nancy and all of his old friends. Everyone makes their way out of Hawkins at some point, hell even the kids will leave someday in the not-so-distant future. There is nothing here for them. Everyone leaves but him. Well, he and —

“Eddie?”

No answer. Instead, Eddie seems caught in his own thoughts once again. It happens sometimes. He’s probably planning another d&d campaign or something like that, things Steve knows absolutely nothing about. Sometimes it’s endearing, sometimes it’s aggravating.

“Munson? “

“ Huh? What was that? “

“ You wanna move in with me? “

“ Oh absolutely not, we’d end up killing each other. But I might have an idea.”

A smirk spreads on Eddie’s lips that leave Steve feeling a bit uneasy. It’s not that Eddie has bad ideas or that they come from a bad place, he just tends to go over the top a lot of times.

“I hate the way that sounds, do you hate the way that sounds? “ Steve asks, turning to Robin who only shrugs her shoulders in reply.

“You’re gonna thank me later, Harrington. Trust me.”

Dropping his cigarette, Eddie walks past his friends, tussling Steve’s hair in the process, and leaves without as much as a goodbye.

“ Sooo, that’s a completely normal reaction and not totally weird or anything.”

“ Steve, it’s Eddie. What do you expect? But hey, maybe he’ll surprise us and actually has a good idea on how to get you out of your predicament.“

Yeah, maybe. Only it’s way past the time that believing in a maybe filled Steve with any sort of hope.

Maybe stopped sounding like a possibility a while ago.

Maybe is a pipe dream.

Maybe is disappointment wrapped in a neat pretty bow.

"Yeah, maybe.”

“Steve Harrington?”

“ Mmmh.”

“ Pretty boy Harrington?”

“ The very same.”

For the first time since he brought it up (Y/N) lifts her eyes away from the boxes of vinyl records and properly looks at Eddie.

The record store has that certain kind of boxed-in smell. Like dust and leather. Like old books and cardboard. Like home. And it’s hers now. All hers. With all the good and bad.

And there’s no record store without Eddie Munson.

“I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that you are friends with Steve and now you’re asking me to move in with him?”

“I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m just offering a solution to a problem. Steve is — surprisingly kind of cool. He has a stable income, not much but stable. And he’s not nearly as messy as I am. You can take it or leave it. Just think sleeping in the backroom of the record store doesn’t sound super comfortable. “

He’s right. He usually is, (Y/N) just hates to let him know that. Boy gets awfully smug when he knows he’s right.

She’s not sure how many more nights she can go sleeping on the thin futon she keeps at the back office, without ruining her back for all eternity. It’s stuffy in here and nights get awfully cold. Maybe renting a place with Steve Harrington isn’t the worst of all scenarios. But it feels an awful lot like admitting defeat. “I know what you’re thinking. This isn’t you failing, this is you accepting help from a friend, okay? “

There’s a sense of sincerity in Eddie’s deep brown eyes that she will never quite get used to. Beneath the teasing and the jokes there’s a bond so thick it can never be broken. A thread woven by two trailer park kids who never had anything but each other.

“ I hate that you know me so well.”

“ I know. But hey, if it makes you feel better you can return the favor.”

A smirk threatens to pull at the corner of his lips. Barely there but there after all. He knows that whatever he’s asking for, she’ll say yes. He’s her friend, her brother by choice not by blood. There is no way she’ll ever say no.

“ Oh yeah? And what favor would that be?”

“ Give me a job. “

“ Huh? “

“With everything that happened I can’t — I can’t continue dealing. And though I am officially acquitted that doesn’t mean shit in this hellhole of a town. So you can imagine how ecstatic businesses are about hiring Eddie Munson, acquitted in the eyes of the law but still a killer to all of Hawkins.”

She hates the way his voice shakes when he speaks. Though he tries to veil his pain with jokes and laughter, it doesn’t really work. There’s fear and sadness lacing his words. There was always a hidden sadness in this boy but ever since the incident of last spring, of which she still hasn’t heard the entire story, it’s more prominent, less hidden.

“ You’ll always have a job here if you want it. I hope you know that.”

“ Oh, I know.”

“ And I’ll be giving you all the shitty shifts.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else. Aaand you’ll let me have band practice in the back? “

“ Of course.”

And when he smiles at her with the same smile of a 5-year-old Eddie, the one she ran through sprinklers with, the one whose ceiling she glued glow-in-the-dark stars to, she knows she did the right thing. And she’ll do it all over again for the rest of both their lives.

“Soooo I can tell Steve you’re in?”

“ You can tell Steve I’m willing to take a look at the place.”

An overgrown path flanked by elms and maple trees leads up to the property. It’s a kaleidoscope of reds and oranges, a few specks of green still trying to hold onto the last drops of summer. It feels like a dream, a watercolor painting of the perfect fall scenario. Picturesque. Beautiful.

The house is small but enough. It’s cute. It’s homey. There are two bedrooms, a small kitchen, an open area for living and dining, and a bathroom. The floor is brushed wood, the walls all painted a dusty off-white.

(Y/N) can see herself living here. She can almost smell the coffee rising from her mug as she lounges on the bench swing by the front porch. Can taste the lemonade and ice cream and beer she will hand out in summer as her friends hang out in the backyard. There’s a fireplace made for Christmas stockings and a hook on the front door to hang a floral wreath when springtime calls.

It’s easy to get lost in dreams of what could be. And then her eyes meet Steve across the way and she is being reminded of what is.

“ What do you think? “

I think it’s perfect.

I think I want to spend my whole life here.

I think I want to make this my home.

All those thoughts run through her head but none of them make it past her lips. She hardly knows this guy, there’s no way she’s gonna share all her heart's desires with him on a Tuesday morning when he hasn’t even had a coffee yet.

“ I think we’re gonna need a couch.”

She can almost see the gears turning and the lightbulb switching on as the words she spoke start registering in his mind. And then he smiles and she must admit, despite everything in her wanting to deny it, that Steve Harrington has a really great smile. One that almost brings a little glimpse of summer back into the cold fall morning.

“ So that’s a yes? “

“ Yes, Harrington. I think we should try this.”

He goes in for a hug then thinks better of it and pulls his arms quickly deciding to punch the air in excitement instead. There’s a nerdy quality to him. She wonders if he knows. It’s slightly endearing. Slightly.

“ Awesome. Cool. Great. Uh — I don’t have a couch but I do have a TV.” “ Cool! I have a coffee machine, a record player, and a cat.”

Mondays are a drag. Even when you’re your own boss. It’s one of the basic pillars of humanity. Mondays suck.

The air is brisk and sharp when (Y/N) makes her way out of her cozy warm bedroom and steps into the living area of the house. The floor is cold beneath her bare feet. They really need to invest in a rug or something, she thinks before her eyes meet the empty living room. A rug and a couch.

Steve’s door is still closed. The guy doesn’t get up before noon if he doesn’t have to go to work. Or maybe he just doesn’t wander out of his room. It’s been two weeks now and living with him is surprisingly easy. He’s not loud, he’s not messy. He’s barely around as it is. Most of the time he’s either at work or hanging out with this girl called Robin. Who (Y/N) thinks might be his girlfriend, she’s not entirely sure though.

The captain, (Y/N)’s black cat who used to live in the alleyway behind the record store, weaves his way around her ankles, his soft fur brushing against her skin.

"You hungry Cap? Let me brush my teeth real quick and I'll feed you, okay?"

Cap looks up at her with big black eyes and that's as good a reply as she can expect from the chubby cat.

The bathroom of their new house is small and cluttered. There’s makeup and lotions and hair products everywhere. The shower curtain is an ugly shade of washed-out blue and a little too short, which results in the bathroom partially flooding every time someone takes a shower.

Their bathroom is a bit of a mess but it’s a controlled mess, one (Y/N) is slowly but surely getting used to. What she doesn’t expect is to open the door and be greeted by a half-naked stranger.

Confusion and shock color the blonde girl’s face as she catches sight of (Y/N) through the mirror. An oversize shirt falls down her body, ending just below her butt, a sliver of red panties peeking out as she turns around.

“Holy fuck, who the hell are you?”

“You know what, I was gonna ask you the exact same thing.”

“I’m Leslie,” the girl says matter-of-factly as if not knowing should make (Y/N) feel some kind of shame. It reminds her of the way Tammy Thompson used to talk after coming back from her Nashville trip that one time in year 10.

“Good for you, what are you doing in my bathroom?” “ Uh — this is Steve’s bathroom.”

There’s a part of (Y/N) that wants to laugh. That wants to let out a hearty giggle and face the absolute ridiculousness of the situation. Though that part has to submit to the part of her that hates Monday mornings and hasn’t had a coffee yet.

“It’s also my bathroom. Do you see those lipsticks over there? You think those belong to Steve?”

Like the flip of a switch, the girl’s face falls. A deep unease settles over her features making her look much younger than the previous mask of post-coital confidence.

“Shit, are you the girlfriend?”

It’s not the first time someone has asked that question since they moved in together. It comes with the situation. There’s a certain expectation when people of different genders share a living space. (Y/N) thinks it’s absolute bullshit. Men and women can totally be just platonic friends. Not that her and Steve are even that.

“No I’m — you know what? Wait here.”

Life is just a sequence of battles being thrown your way. The art is to know which ones are worth fighting and which ones to pass on to your housemate.

A whiff of cold air slaps (Y/N) in the face as she opens the door to Steve’s room. The blue curtain flows with the breeze finding its way through the open window.  It’s the first time she’s stepped foot in here since they properly moved in. His room smells clean, like crisp fall air and fresh linen. And a little bit like expensive cologne. There’s a dresser on one side of the room, his bed on the other. Other than that it’s pretty bare.

Wrinkled sheets hide the bottom half of Steve’s body, his chest proudly on display as he spreads out starfish-like on his bed. Man, that boy has a lot of chest hair. For a moment (Y/N)’s mind goes on a little time travel mission. Back to high school days. Back to when Steve was on the basketball team and took every chance to be on the skins team during training. Did he have as much chest hair then?

Before she can fully form the thought she shakes her head in displeasure. What business has she thinking about Steve Harrington’s fucking chest hair? Absolutely none.

“ Harrington, wake up.”

Nothing. Of course not.

God, she fucking hates Mondays.

“ Steve! Wake the fuck up!”

Absolutely no reaction.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

Grumbling to herself (Y/N) makes her way toward Steve’s sleeping form.

“I swear to god, if I end up seeing your penis I’m going to strangle you!”

In a swift motion, she grabs the pillow from beneath his head and smacks him across his stupid pretty face.

“What the fuck, (Y/N).”

“Oh, that does it then, physical violence?”

His voice is raspy and laced with sleep. It would be sexy if it was anyone but pretty boy Steve Harrington.

“What do you want?”

“I’d like to use my own bathroom in peace.”

Steve lifts his arms off of his face, regarding her with curious confusion. His eyebrow almost disappears behind his stupidly perfect hair. Where everyone else would sport an impressive case of bedhead, Steve’s mane looks perfectly styled as if every strand has been placed with precision. Maybe, she thinks, he’s some kind of wizard brewing potions and casting spells to keep his hair looking nice at all times.

Or maybe his hair is just that great.

“You need my help to go to the bathroom?”

“No, Harrington. I need you to get your friend out.”

“My frie — oh shit.”

He’s not naked. Thank god. He’s just wearing really tight boxer briefs. Gray ones.

It’s a face (Y/N) never thought she’d ever find out firsthand. Steve Harrington is a boxer briefs kinda guy. That’s another thing that comes with living together. Sooner or later you’ll figure out stuff about the other you never needed to know. You’ll know anyway. And from then on the knowledge is yours to do with as you see fit.

(Y/N) tries to push the info to the furthest corner of her brain, right there in a dusty box that holds most of what she learned in geometry class and the names of all the drunk girls she’s ever made friends with in a bar bathroom.

Then again, at least he’s not naked.

It takes Steve a full 25 minutes to convince Leslie that (Y/N) is in fact not his girlfriend and another 20 to get her out of the house. She leaves with a promise of him calling again. It’s a promise he has no intention of keeping, even (Y/N) can tell. It’s a soft lie. One meant not to hurt but to cushion the inevitable fall.

It’s gonna hurt anyway and for a second (Y/N) feels bad for the girl. Only for a second though. Her third cup of coffee washes away those feelings.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Steve exclaims as he drops down onto the floor next to her, his own cup of coffee in hand. “It’s not gonna happen again.”

“We should set up some rules.”

“For when we have dates over?”

“For living together.”

“Okay uh yeah — that makes sense. I guess.”

(Y/N) rips a page from one of the many notebooks lying around.

“What should I call it?” She asks before Steve takes the sharpie from her hand and scribbles something onto the blank page.

Steve and (Y/N)’s roommate rules.

“Okay sounds good. 1. Dates need to be out by morning or announced in advance. That cool with you?”

Steve nods his head in approval, hair shaking with every move.

“ Anything you wanna add? “

“ Mmmm.” His lips almost disappear with the way he sucks them in, trying to speak up but worried about upsetting her.

“ Spit it out, Harrington.”

“You play your music really loudly. And no offense but I can only do so much Bon Jovi before I want to stab a fork in my ear.”

“That is absolutely offensive and also blasphemy but I accept it. Put it on the list.”

A silence settles over the two as the morning sun rises above the horizon, throwing long rays of autumn sun through the windows. A scene quite serene and calm. If it wasn’t for the fact that (Y/N)’s ass is almost numb from sitting on the freezing cold floor.

“We need a fucking couch.” “ We really do.”

(Y/N)’s eyes fall towards Steve’s figure sitting next to her. His chest still bare. His legs still bare. The guy is still in his boxer briefs and one lone sock.

“Put some clothes on man.”

3. No walking around in underwear.

A shrill beeping sound wakes Steve from a dreamless slumber. For a second his mind travels to bad places. Dark memories clouded in fear. Sounds from a world like this but different. Warped and disfigured and wrong.

Then his mind fog disappears slowly but surely and he realizes that he is in fact not in the upside down but at home. At home in his own house in his own room in his own bed.

And the sound? That’s the fire alarm.

Oh shit, the fire alarm.

Throwing his blanket off of himself, Steve hurries out of his room and rounds the corner expecting the worst. Ever since — things started happening, he always expects the worst.

He’s not greeted by flames. There is no fire. Nothing is ablaze.

But there’s (Y/N), looking down sadly at a tray of what he thinks might be muffins. If they’re supposed to be dark chocolate they look perfect. If they’re supposed to be anything else they’re badly burned.

“ What the hell is going on? “ he asks as he pushed the button, turning off the horrible beeping sound.

“ I was stress-baking and ended up forgetting about the muffins while they were in the oven. I blame that fancy-ass wine yours.”

When he left home, Steve took a few bottles of the expensive Cabernet his parents keep in their wine cabinet. Not because he likes to drink it, in fact, it all tastes like bitter, overpriced grape juice to him. No, that was purely out of spite.

“Why are you drinking wine and baking at — “ he glances at the clock on the microwave, “midnight? “

A strand of hair falls in front of her face and for a split second, he wants to push it away, comb it behind her ear. Then he reminds himself that he hardly knows the girl. You don’t go around brushing people’s hair off their faces if you don’t know them. That’s something intimate. Like kissing the top of someone's head. Like tugging them in when they fall asleep on the couch.

“Just — everything with the record store is stressing me out. I’ve never had to manage a whole store by myself. I don’t know the first thing about owning a business. And right now it’s still going alright but what if I mess up? What if people stop coming by and the store stops making money and then we will never be able to buy a couch.”

He’s not seen her like that before. Sad. He hates it. Her mouth is pulled into a frown and where her eyes usually glimmer with mischief and excitement, they look dull and glassy now.

He wants it on record that the glimmer in her eyes was something he discovered purely by accident and not because he looks at her that much. It’s all purely circumstantial.

“So I don’t know anything about owning a business. But I do know one thing.”

“ Yeah? And what’s that?”

“ No matter what happens. People will always need music. People will always need a record store.”

Many times in his life, Steve found himself in situations knowing he said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Stupid intrusive thoughts have tumbled from his lips too many times to count.

This time, he thinks he might’ve said exactly what needed to be said. At least if her smile is any indication of it.

“ Thanks, Harrington. That’s a very sweet thing to say.”

He shrugs his shoulders casually as if it’s no big deal.

It’s a little bit of a big deal.

“And about that couch? We’ll figure that out, I promise. In the meantime — “

He squats down to the floor, opens the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink, and pulls out the thick roll of shiny silver duct tape.

“What are you doing, you weirdo? “

“I’m planning.”

“Planning what? “

“ Our future.”

With a determination that’s even foreign to himself, Steve struts into the living area and kneels down on where the couch would be.

“Come on, come sit on our couch.”

Slowly but surely he creates a, someone lopsided and imperfect, duct tape outline on the wooden floors.

He can almost see it. A cozy L-shaped sofa in the middle of the room. Maybe a nice forest green. Maybe shiny brown leather.

It doesn’t matter really. It will be theirs. In his own home. That he pays for with his own money. Where disappointment doesn’t try to grab and pull at him from every corner. Where he is just Steve and that’s enough.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yeah?"

"No more midnight baking, okay? Can we put that on the list?"

She laughs and nods.

"Yeah, that's okay with me. Hey, you know what?” (Y/N) asks as she drops down on the floor next to him, crossing her legs and handing a glass of wine to him, keeping one to herself.

“What’s that?”

“I really enjoy living with you. I think we’re a good team.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

“You know what else?”

“Hmmm?”

“I can’t wait to decorate our house for Christmas.”

Our house.

Steve nods and takes a sip from the glass. Yup, still bitter and overpriced grape juice.

“Maybe by winter we’ll have a couch.”

Laughter echoes through the halls of the little house as it stands nestled between elms and maple trees. The night is inky black but the little light that comes from the house casts a glow into the dark.

There is no pain in this house. It doesn’t live here anymore. There is only laughter. And friendship. And the promise of something more. Something grand. Something that is entirely their own.

Sometimes a maybe is more than disappointment wrapped in a pretty bow.

Sometimes maybe is a chance.

Sometimes maybe is the beginning of something wonderful.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington writing #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x fem!reader #borrowedandbluefic

[spacetime1969]

Are we still Heroes Jasonette July 14: Snow

Masterlist | AO3 Marinette is alone and hurting, her partner is gone, and now the Kwami have taken her all the way across the ocean to Gotham City, where she crashes into the back of the infamous Red Hood, the 19-year-old once vigilante now crime lord. First | Prev | Next

Marinette is curled up in as many blankets as she can manage, shivering as the cold wind blows into her unheated apartment. The night is cold and threatening snow. Unfortunately for Marinette, ladybugs don’t do so well in the cold. So she’s curled up on her mattress at home, if the broken apartment can really be called that. She didn’t really come to Gotham with a plan. Technically, at least on paper, Marinette Dupain-Cheng never left Paris, she just disappeared. She has no documents, no bank accounts, and any attempt to access the ones she had in Paris will bring her attention she can’t afford.

Since she started working with The Red Hood she has enough money for food and rent, but only just. Between her low budget and lack of documentation, she’s had to survive with an apartment that should probably have been condemned, whose landlord doesn’t care who she is and will take her rent in cash with no documentation. The windows are drafty, the insulation, if there ever was any, is completely gone, and, now that the heat has broken down, the temperature in the room is dropping almost as fast as it is outside.

As she continues to shiver, the kwami flit around her anxiously, worried about their guardian. As the temperature continues to drop and Marinette becomes more and more lethargic, their worry only grows. They plead with Marinette to go get some help.

“Please Marinette it’s too cold for you.”

“Can’ go home Tikki. C’nt risk it. Have to protect mircuelss.”

“Marinette, you need to get help, or you’ll freeze!”

“‘m fine Tikki.” Marinette’s words are slurred as she waves the tiny god off. “‘M not tha’ cold.” Her continued shivering says the opposite.

Tikki looks helplessly at her chosen. Plagg flies up behind her.

“How long would she last if she transforms?”

Tikki looks at Plagg. “At least until morning, but if it’s still this cold tomorrow she won’t survive the hibernation.”

There’s a heavy pause as they consider the risks before Plagg breaks the silence. “Okay. You get her to transform, and me and Kaalki will make sure she has somewhere warm to wake up.”

Tikki looks at him warily. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Plagg folds his paws in front of him. “As much as Pigtails would like to believe otherwise, she does have a friend here. Even if neither of them are willing to admit it.”

Tikki suddenly gets it. “The Red Hood.” She turns to Duusu. “Do you think we can trust him?”

The kwami of emotion thinks. “He’s angry a lot, but he also feels very protective of those he feels are attached to, and he does feel attached to our guardian, even if he doesn’t admit it to himself. I think he would help.”

Tikki nods and turns to Plagg. “Go.” Plagg nods, and he and Kaalki zip out the window into the Gotham night. Tikki turns around and flies over to her chosen, tapping on her face to try and get her a little more aware.

“Marinette, can you hear me? You need to transform, okay? It will put you in a hibernation state that will keep you alive. Can you do that for me, Marinette?”

“T’kki?”

Tikki nods. “That’s right Marinette. I need you to transform, okay? Just say ‘spots on’.”

“Sp’ts ‘nn.” There’s a flash and Marinette transforms into Lady Chance. Her shivering slows, and then stops. Her breaths become slow and quiet, and her heartbeat slows to an almost unnoticeable beat. The kwami continue to float around, worried and waiting.

Out in Gotham, the snow has started to fall on top of a red helmeted crime lord, who’s staring at the swirling white portal that has appeared in front of him.

AN: I blame executive dysfunction and school for finishing this prompt a day late lol

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#maribat #jason x marinette #jasonette #jasonette july #jasonette july 2022 #just ask if you want to be added to a tag list