#i like have thoughts and stuff and i hate the idea of just not existing

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello this is a question that came about from watching the new Fallout TV show and a character named Maximus. He’s a relatively neutral character and his arc is very wonderful coming from a writer and big book reader but I noticed that the average viewer doesn’t understand his character and actually hates him… my question is as an author is it okay to make your story more digestible to people who lack perception since it’s the general audience for mainstream media and how do you do that without losing your story? Idk this was probably too complex and a stupid question 💔

Not a stupid question! There are no stupid questions.

Going to unpack this a bit though. (I haven't seen the show.) First some general points, but then some advice on balancing complexity in a story.

So. Some things to get out of the way:

You don't know what the average viewer is thinking. Just because their opinion on a character is different to yours, doesn't mean they lack perception. Do we sometimes have an issue with critical thinking in the modern age? Yes. But we also live in an age where people bring a vast array of different insights and experiences into the stories they read/watch. 99% of the time a story doesn't have just one right interpretation, especially if it is a more complex narrative.

You CAN try to write a story that is more digestible to a general audience, but if you do have concerns about the media literacy of the general population, focusing on providing unchallenging stories is not the fix to that. People learn through engaging with interesting work and having discussions about them - e.g. when they are given the opportunity to. Perception, like anything, is a skill trained with practice. No one's born with it. There's no inherent us/them that can't be changed.

Will you be happy and fulfilled as a writer writing stories that you feel are dumbed or watered down? I know I wouldn't end up writing the versions of stories that I want. Similarly, you probably won't then attract the readers/audience that most resonate with your ideas, because you don't give them the chance.

Generally speaking, people hate being talked down to. As a reader/lover of stories, if I thought a writer was talking down to me and thought I was an idiot who couldn't understand the themes/plot, I wouldn't want to have anything to do with their stuff. It's a horrible feeling, isn't it? It's like being written off before you even leave the gate.

Okay, now some advice: Amazing children's books are a great example of stories that are simplified to appeal and meet the audience where they are at, without losing the richness that makes them resonate and engage readers/audience. However, there are adult examples too. They share some qualities.

These often have:

Clear structure (there are a myriad story structures that you can use to make a story hit beats the reader expects and create a sense of satisfaction, while still giving you room to play.)

High concept story idea/plot (so, stories that can be explained/pitched in a line. E.g. children are forced to fight in televised death matches (Hunger Games), a famous author is imprisoned by a dangerous fan who doesn't approve of his new work (Misery), 'it's jaws in outer space!'). These stories have simple premises that often have wide-appeal, but the stories themselves can be complex.

Engaging main character(s) with a clear goal/agenda. They don't have to all be morally pure, but for an easy win, your character should be likeable/easy to root for. In a children's book, e.g. at the simplest level, these are often also high concept. (E.g. a mouse wants to be heard so is convinced it needs a lion's roar to be loved - The Lion Inside by Rachel Bright)

There are, of course, exceptions to every rule. Game of Thrones was phenomenally popular, for example, but I don't think it's an easy to sink into world/simple set of characters.

Watering down an existing story to fit a different target audience is often not going to lead you to write the best story. This is because it's like trying to fit a triangle into a circle, or make a banana bread into a savoury scone. However, there are plenty of stories with mass-appeal that offer readers a variety of different levels to engage with them, so it is very possible to write a brilliant story with mass appeal. But you work from the foundations up, not from the finished product down.

I hope this helps!

#writing advice #writing talk #writing tips #creative writing #fiction writing #writing #on writing

[fourteenthz]

this game gave me all the illness

Hundreds of thoughts abt the last two chapters of yakuza 0 over here you've been warned I'm going full essay post bc I just can't fit everything only in 30 tags:

I've just wanted to stress just how good I think this game is, genuinely. There are few things that irked me in the end but they are so irrelevant I can't mind all that much. The dialogue in this game is just wonderful, script goes out there a lot but the serious/emotional scenes just felt all so real to me. I feel like it's so hard doing real dialogue without it sounding predictable but they did it. Maybe it's because the story itself isn't all that predictable but just UGH WONDERFUL. so good. Anyway to story bits.

just to start where I left I have to say. proof of love? the damn chapter of all time. if you told me we would be here

when I first started play this game I would be very skeptical but I really loved the directiong they took with him. and specially with her. I just loved makoto at first sight and I hoped so bad she would continue to be a plot point from there on and to have her face all of dojima clan head on and survive is just. so damn cool. she is my most special girl.

and it makes her so realistic too to that final scene before credits. the way she stands up to those guys and everything about her development is just really perfect and insanely well done for like a side character, specially when we have so many of them in this game. she is wonderful. I adore her to bits.

plus as a side-story for majima slowly breaking away from that cold facade from the beginning is just REALLY nice. he starts this chapter makind expressions he has never once done before and ends like

CAN YOU HEAR ME? they are my everything. going from makoto saying "I'm sorry, I can't do anything for myself" right when majima had that talk with seda about not doing things by himself. I love this plot point of him and kiryu being so damn powerful but how shaping them for something greater they needed others. not in a way that they lack something but in such there-are-thing-not-even-you-can-scape kind of way. this brings me to THIS:

BECAUSE THEY MAKE ME SO UNWELL. I feel sick. every time I have favorites I expect the worst to happen to them (because it always happens lol) but having nishiki and makoto being pillars for kiryu's and majima's resolve until the very end is SUCH a treat.

one moment you think they are all dying and the other you get this:

and it changes you for life I guess.

I should also add how much I love lao gui as majima's last boss for this game vs kiryu and shibusawa. they really delivered perfectly the whole "this is what you can become if you follow through with it" and it just makes. sense. and makes me stupid ig. I like them a normal amount and also I like how nishiki and makoto (even not there) are the ones that remind them of who they want to become. it's different from where they are now but it's different from the person lying under them as well and I just feel SO NORMAL about that.

for the ending I gotta say, majima's left a bad taste in my mouth at first, maybe because I just hated sagawa so bad lmao but I think I'm coming around it a lot more the more I think of it. and welp ig sagawa is dead so I that's a good way as any to convince me.

after makoto was gone I kind expected him to never talk with her again, but just to add, it feels better than I overall was hoping. I thought she would either die or move away from japan and they would never see it other again. Don't get me wrong I have no expectations for her to show up again, but just by her being there, I feel like it gives him a lot of peace of mind tbh. dojima clan won't follow here anymore and he can make sure of that. sounds good to me. bUT DID YOU HAVE TO GIVE ME THIS?

SEDA COWARDS. I was partially hoping he would keep it but this is better. ye. I just ADORE this so much. It is such pain that she doesn't know his name but also I just feel so relieved when she was just. walking around. being normal. I love her I love her she deserves the entire world I'm so happy at this moment.

now you know what made me insane? going from this

to THIS

and then I went to download the next one and you know what fck you seda I HATE THIS SO MUCH.

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

I mean I think I know but I REALLY thought I was free from tragic brothers. what about ranking up together..... what of their promise? what about "until death do us apart" was THAT A LIE? I'm gonna be honest with you all. I was excited to continue today but after seeing the opening for kiwami I REALLY don't want to. but. whatever.

from what I'm certain and I know it to be true besides mine own speculation:

I like...... this game. I like how kiryu kept his idea of choosing his path by whether he loved-or-hated it. I love how he steadily grows so much over the game and how you can't really notice until he has to make a choice and you see he's still thinks the same but acts just so more maturely. I like how he let his relationships influence him, how it isn't seem as a bad thing ever, how he is always being rewarded for it.

I like how this reflects on loyalty and brotherhod by everybody that is around him, specially nishiki. damn if I know wtf is happening on the next game but the "95 was a dark year, while kiryu serves time in jail, nishikiyama becomes a changed man" just proves that. I like how they try to be away from one another but when nishiki said they are invincible together, he was right. They don't have to be invincible all the time, but it must feel good to. and them choosing to accept the other changing in that ending scene at serena and nothing changing between them UP UNTIL they are separeted in 95' just feels right.

and, all that being said, I like how it all changed made majima into whatever is that guy by the end of yakuza 0. I somehow felt like he needed one more cutscene, specially bc the next games are really focused on kiryu, but even then, it all just fits well. his acceptance now isn't like the one in chapter 15, when he just comppels in being a pawn for sagawa or whatever. it genuinely speaks to the very first time we see him, how he knows nothing but yakuza, how it's his life, and now WELL IT ISN'T THE PERFECT ENDING but it's such a well-written one for someone such as him. he get's to keep doing what he knows, but being just so much cooler and confident about it. IT JUST FEELS. DAMN COOL.

Just overall. The story is so good, the gameplay is so good. I have a handful of poorly done mechanics/writting to point out but the good outweights the bad so hard that I just doesn't feel like it matter at all. The combat is so fun, the mini-games are intuitive and the side-stories are just gold. Having the switch between the two of them made the game just so fun, there is a bunch of stuff I didn't finish but I also didn't felt bored not even for a second. It's honestly such rewarding gaming experience and I love those a lot.

so yeah, I'll stop rambling now or whatever but just. yeah. yakuza 0 good. play it. pls. and talk to me about it. pls. ty.

#trying to act so normal on this damn essay i'm sorry you must know I was actually barking at my monitor once the end screen appeared #yakuza 0 #yakuza 0 spoilers #kelly plays ykz #there must be SO MANY typos here but idk I just needed to put my thoughts somewhere and kinda organized so I can go insane in the tags bc #GOD AJJAAJSUDGDSD BITTING MY FISTS BANGING MY HEAD ON THE WALL ETC ETC ETC #seda for everything that exists please I said I wanted more or my tragic brother but NOT LIKE THAT I HATE the opening for ykz 1 so much #WDYM NISHIKI NOT HUGGING KIRYU BUT FIGHTING......... WDYM. #I'm sorry if my blog turns into ykz filled the next days I've been really into giffing again and I feel ill about those characters #and now that I know the majima short hair is in all of the next games I can easily just gif ykz 0 with the idea I had so yeah. #brace yourselves or whatever. I like men a normal amount. #seeing kiryu's back on the title screen tho......... I bet nishiki colored his too..... man.... I'm normal abt thm. #I feel like playing every ykz at this point even after seeing many ppl say that you don't really have to specially 3/4 but idk. kinda #started this series really easily in a 'i'll play when I feel like it' kind of way which isn't how I approach most series #maybe I'm just used to final fantasy lol but the game is just so packed with stuff and it also have such good breaks in the main story #that it makes so much easier to take a break from it irl. genuinely such a well developed game. I'll not stop saying this lol it just. is. #can't believe i'm saying fucking “yakuza 0” when someone asks me what game I recommend them. who would've fucking thought honestly. #the day I bought the idea of trusting this game to have good written tragic brothers and started playing was a damn good choice. #i'm in too deep now. it really is one of those games that makes me emo about how video games are the superior form of story telling #anyway I miss my boys. I'll need some encouragment to keep going with the next entry but i'll so it at some point #until them please enjoy every gifset I send in you guys' way *praying emoji* #can't wait to really meet ichiban by myself!!!!!! lets go!!!! #kelly says

[sammypog]

i am THIS CLOSE to deleting all my social media apps at least temporarily it’s shit for my mental health and i know it

#idk i probably won’t #or just tiktok because that one’s the worst #i just feel like my ability to think normally and be a rational human is being slowly ruined #by constantly absorbing everyone’s extreme black and white opinions on the internet #and there’s always new ‘drama’ for lack of a better word that just makes me constantly anxious and upset #to simplify it ​i basically just feel chronically online #not to mention how much time i waste on meaningless shit like tiktok #idk i just feel so drained by feeling obligated to get emotionally involved in every single argument online ever #i hate investing so much of my happiness in the internet and people who have no idea i exist #don’t worry i’ll still be on discord and stuff if i do end up doing it #this is not about my online friends #just not like public platforms #at least for a while #sorry i’ve just been so exhausted by social media recently #brain thoughts #rants

[gameofthronedd]

It really, genuinely, confuses me how Daemyra shippers think that the showrunners are going to "ruin it". I can understand if these fans haven't read Fire & Blood. But when it comes to those who have... did we read the same book? And, heck, even just based on the show (and pre-existing knowledge of the world GRRM made) I think it's relatively easy to ascertain that they're not going to have a beautiful relationship with a happy ending?

Brief F&B spoilers below.

The idea that the showrunners are going to "ruin" this relationship is strange to me, due to the fact that it was never a fairytale relationship to start with, this is part of the world of ASOIAF and because of what happens in F&B.

The start of their relationship on screen isn't... the ideal start, right? Daemon is her uncle and quite a bit older. He's also shown to be careless & reckless about her safety; he leaves her half-naked and her exposed in a brothel without any to look after her. Then he allows Viserys to believe he had had sex with Rhaenyra. Daemon may love Rhaenyra but he is not caring. Which brings me to my next point... just because he loves her, does not mean that his "love" isn't toxic or harmful.

It's difficult to deny that Daemon loves her. I think most would agree he does. BUT loving someone doesn't always mean that it's healthy. Hence the examples up above and the instance of Daemon choking Rhaenyra. I think Daemon is a good example of someone who has a "charming" or "charismatic" personality, one that can make you forget the violence and darkness he possesses. So, yes, he loves her - but he is also Daemon, and that love isn't always healthy or good.

Like I said, this isn't a fairytale. It's ASOIAF.

Honestly, one of the healthier relationships I can recall of ASOIAF is the one between Cat and Ned. But even that relationship has its issues. They didn't love each other at first. Cat was upset about Jon. And it's not a happy ending. Most other relationships I can remember in ASOIAF have some degree of tragedy or toxicity. F&B is more of the same, and Daemyra is no exception.

In F&B, there's obviously the situation of Daemon & Rhaenyra being seperated for most of the war. Then, Daemon spends most of his time with Nettles, possibly (or likely) pursuing a relationship with her - which leads to R becoming paranoid and wanting Nettles dead. We all know what happens to both Daemon and Rhaenyra.

So honestly I don't know how this relationship can be "ruined" when it's one that implodes on its own. There's no reasonable way to avoid it being "ruined" without messing up the story and the characters.

Obviously, it's not every Daemyra shipper thinking this way. But I have seen it floating around and I have to do a double-take every single time I see someone pre-emptively get mad with the showrunners for "messing up" Daemyra in the future?? I have a few bones to pick with Daemyra & its shippers but by far the weirdest take I've seen is the idea that the showrunners are going to mess it up lmao. They don't need to do anything, really, except follow the general plot of F&B 🤫

#ruin #just a lil ramble #i have Many issues with daemyra in general but in terms of discourse abt it this is one take that i just need to rant about lol #hotd #hotd thoughts #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #anti daemyra #sometimes i feel like I've consumed a completely different piece of literature to some ppl in the fandom lol #ik we hold onto the miniscule happiness we can find in the ASOIAF universe & we like to invent stuff in our heads to numb the pain of canon #but we are all aware that actual canon is super depressing right #anyway the entire point was... i don't understand the idea that the showrunners can somehow Daemyra when canon is Like That #*insert ramsay's quote about happy endings here* #daemyra and viserys Existing are topics certified to make me metaphorically beat them with sticks like piñatas 🪅 #so scared I'm gonna get jumped for hating on Daemyra it's just my opinion yall have mercy #& not even a good one im just dissing ppl who live in fantasy land #long post that amounts to nothing lmao sozzles 😔😩

[str1d3rs]

tempted to make a story that'd cause so much discourse on this app and would probably get me doxxed if it got noticed

#i want to make “problematic” stories with shitty characters #like yes they're great for these aspects but also they're a murderer #and i want to take a character of mine and make two of them to study how people would react/treat them #my stories will probaby never get any notice but i like the idea of it causing discourse #the mc is a girl who's a fucked up burnt out people pleaser that easily gets manipulated and turns into a god against her will #i think people would find a way to find bad stuff about her like 'she didnt have to kill those guardian angels or kill that capitalist scum' #but she had to because she thought jt was the only option to and she's stuck with someone highly manipulative #and on top of it the manipulative guy is a major fucking liar who's like “yeah these guys are actually killing humans lol” #people would probably really like or hate this one character from the cult the mc kind of breaks up? #she doesnt full on destroy the cult as its existence still lingers but its still there haunting the narrative and the character #as hes constantly in some kind of hiding and terrified of any strangers as he sees everyone as some sort of threat #also i think a funny part i havent revealed to people i know is that hell does and doesn't exist at the same time because its just earth #heaven doesnt exist either #god(s) exist in the world just because they're technically just what makes up the universe/crucial things that hold up existence #but gods are really easy to kill tbh #hard to make but easy to kill #also angels are technically like fucked up lice/dandruff that tried to find a purpose and build a society #and the only way they can travel to earth is through black holes #all of this is more of background info tbh #some major themes would be about the affects of abuse/mental issues and thay family doesnt have to be blood related #also of course dog metaphors will fit some of the characters #and of course how obsession left unchecked is really unhealthy for every side sometimes #a lot of the themes are a little vent related but id rather put my soul into a story rather than make it plain and going into purity culture #edit: also most of the characters are trans and queer but not explicitly said because its not important to the story/whats going on #like yes this kid in hiding is trans and queer but he's in hiding from a cult to really think of romance or more about his gender #also i think itd be kind of silly that even through the worst living conditions that he was still given a binder and gender affirming care #considering how his life goes in there #like “your family will miss you please dont leave us my faithful daughter” “hey actually im a guy sorry” “oh okay. dont leave us my son” #they can excuse child torture and cannibalism but they draw the line at transphobia

[arjex-and-stuff]

I'm going to ramble about a type of self loathing that is a little weird. I've convinced myself throughout my life that having crushes is weird/wrong and that I'm fucked up for crushing on actors or musicians or just some youtuber who I like watching and think has pretty eyes.

In my head that kind of thing is for teenagers.

But... I didn't let myself do it as a teenager either. I didn't let myself do anything that I believed would make me vulnerable, even if that's not the framing of it I had then. Everything I felt and cared about had to be kept very very close and hidden down deep so that it wouldn't be destroyed. Including the perfectly normal experience of having crushes.

There's a lot of things I could point to as to why I did this. Do this. There's a factor where when I did have crushes the adults in my life handled them spectacularly badly. Either being encouraging to the point of it becoming a problem or just teasing me to the point of it not being fun anymore, with little inbetween. The jokes about me only liking gay men are suddenly non-existant after coming out as trans. Go figure.

Having crushes on almost exclusively gay men before I couldn't live in denial about being trans anymore factored in. Straight girls (which I was trying my damndest to force myself to be) into gay guys were pretty readily torn apart by the internet in the early 2000's. Don't know how that is today because I heavily curate what I see online these days.

There are other factors, but it's 5am and this is already getting long, so I'll spare everyone, including myself.

So. When I have a crush I immediatly mock myself, chastise myself, get angry at myself for bothering to entertain useless fantasies.

I set the stage of my attraction by directing hate towards myself immediatly because in part I feel like having crushes is wrong to do, and in part because if I direct the attention towards how stupid I am for having a crush in the first place, I immediatly direct any mocking towards myself instead of the person I'm interested in.

...

This is a problem for a LOT of reasons. Every time I find myself enamored with someone I have to dig through six layers of self loathing to accept that this is a perfectly normal human thing and I am not a monster for thinking about kissing some guy.

I'm allowed to have crushes. I'm allowed to make up little fantasies in my head about going on dates. It's a normal human thing to do. I don't deserve to hate myself for it. I'm not doing something wrong. I'm just doing something humans do.

It's okay and healthy to like people.

#crushes #stayed up all night staring at the ceiling #thinking about my favorite youtuber #and feeling awful #and I was like... why do I hate myself so much for having gay little thoughts about this guy who doesn't know or need to know that I exist #lots of reasons #we'll get into the deeply ingrained internalized transphobia towards myself at some point #but I'm okay with just getting through the 'it's okay to like people' layer right now #anyway if you're 12 or 18 or 25 or 30 or 40 or 60 or 90 or any age at all I hope that you can microwave the blorbo you crush on in peace #I have no idea if I'm doing tumblr slang right #this place makes me feel like an old man #i'm not new i'm just really bad at slang #self loathing #self hate #it's 6am now #I just want to be able to entertain the idea of a love life without feeling like I'm awful for wanting one #Including the silly fantasy ones in my head #mental health stuff #mental health journaling #i think #enough tags now I'm going to sleep

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Pt. 4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Danny blinked down at the cart, where a red hoodie and pants with red stripes along the side laid over the lip of the cart. Considering they’re in this universe’s brand of Marget- seriously, who names a store Target? If anything in Amity Park was named that, Skulker would have wrecked it in five seconds flat- it’s hilariously on brand. Though, to be fair, this was Gotham’s version too, which meant a lot of security guards (who definitely doubled as goons for the Rogues, Danny was sure) and the vibes were spooky.

“I’m guessing red’s your favorite color.”

Instead of the humorous way he meant the sentence, Jason looked up anxiously and Danny immediately hated himself a little bit more.

“Sh- I can put it back..?” Jason hunched in on himself.

Danny tracked the movement with clearer eyes than he’s had in a long while and ancients, does it remind him of how Dani was in front of Vlad all those years ago. And Danny has spent his entire half life being not like Vlad, so he’s not going to start now.

“Nah, you should definitely add some more stuff. This is no where near enough clothes.”

It really wasn’t. Danny had taken Jason to the store to pick out clothes- “Ther’s a second hand store down the stree’, ya know,” Jason had mumbled when they went through the doors- but the kid had only tentatively put in a small red hoodie and some pants in the cart. Now he had to put this in a way that’ll wipe the stubbornly hesitant look on Jason’s face off.

“Think about it this way, then. You’re repping me now, and while I might be the alley drunk, I’m not the poorly dressed alley drunk, yeah?”

“Oh. Tha’ makes sense.” Jason nodded to himself determinedly, and the kid strode over to the t-shirt section. For all of his confidence, he still glanced back to see if it was okay with Danny.

Well, Dani was the same way before she found her confidence (when she knew Danny wouldn’t abandon her or hurt her) so Danny just gave him a thumbs up before reaching into the rack and sweeping an armful of clothing straight into the cart. Then, he strode over to the jackets and grabbed the ones in Jason’s size and slightly bigger. Oh, he has to grab shoes. He’ll leave that for later, but Danny was going to get those ratty trainers off of Jason’s feet and into the nearest trash can if it was the last thing he does.

The halfa hummed, pausing at the first decidedly not miserable sound he’s made in a while. Dammit, if that wasn’t a sign of Danny’s attachment to Jason, he doesn’t know what would be. To be fair… Danny already committed murder for the kid, which was pretty much something he thought he’d never do, so in for a penny out for a pound or whatever.

He put a significant amount of the budget aside for the section labeled “JASON” so Danny shopped without a worry. Charlie’s ill-gotten assets were a good monetary compensation for his crime of existing near Jason or existing, period.

He picked up toiletries, toothbrushes and the like, when Jason came back sans t-shirt. Instead of a shirt- Danny had actually hoped that Jason would try to get multiple shirts- Jason was clutching a book.

Before he could even voice anything, Danny plucked the book out of his grip and put it into the cart with a disarming smile.

“Oh, good idea. We should get you books too. Wanna go pick out some more?”

“Uh- y’re just gonna get a book, just like that?”

“More than one book, I should hope. You are going to school, right?”

“…Yeah!” Danny couldn’t fathom ever being excited at the thought of school, but as Jason bounced away to peruse the admittedly poor selection of books, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe he should give this education thing another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be less stressful now that he’s not Phantom.

Danny walked to the aisle next to the books and promptly proceeded to shove every single piece of stationary he thought was nice- pens, gel pens, cooling pens and pencils, a thick stack of notebooks, flash cards, etcetera- into the rapidly getting full cart.

Jason came back with three more books- nice, the classics- and froze at the sight of the cart.

“Oh, hey. Getting all of those?”

“Wha’- wha’s wit’ the stuff?”

“School supplies! Quality education starts with quality supplies, you know!” Danny said, a sliver of the grin that used to come so easily to him making an appearance on his face. "Don't worry, I budgeted. See?"

Danny handed Jason a piece of paper, confident that the kid would know if it was good or not.

"Where'd... ya get all of this?"

"Hmm... here and there."

Jason looked up at him, squinting suspiciously. "I hear' Charlie's gone poofed up."

Danny shrugged and put a calculator in the cart. "Oh, I'm sure he's busy."

Yeah, Danny thought vindictively. Busy being dead.

"Ya sound like a walking con," Jason said as he visibly decided to give up fighting against Danny's spending. "We nee' food."

"Gotcha. Well, if you need anything else, just bring it into the cart."

"I want veggies. Frozen, 's cheaper."

Danny nodded, resisting the urge to ruffle Jason's hair.

----

"Hey, you's the Alley Drunk, right? 'Bout that boy you've been toting ar-"

Danny punched the guy in the face, dropping him like a stone. He looked up slowly and swayed.

"Any of you ask about my kid brother again, and I won't bother with being drunk when I hit you."

Rapid nods. Danny shuffled away, satisfied.

----

Two weeks later, after a school day, Danny finds Jason heading to the bathroom with a box of...

"Hair-dye?"

Jason, who was marginally more relaxed and assured that Danny wasn't going to kick him out, nodded.

"Dye's fadin' n' I dun wanna get nabbed on the streets for having red hair."

Danny blinked. "You have red hair?"

"Sure do. See? Roots are showin' again." Jason pointed at his scalp where Danny could see the hair was getting lighter.

"Right. Well- I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help, kiddo." Danny said, desperately hoping he hid how off kilter he was feeling well.

"I don't need help, ah've been doing this for ages." The kid went into the bathroom and closed the door harshly. When the lock clicked and the faucet began running, Danny let himself slide down the wall into a crouch, hands cradling his head.

Red hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. The facial features. The intelligence and empathy.

Danny chuckled hysterically under his breath.

Was Jason this universe's version of Jazz?

"Fuck."

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #dpxdc #danny adopts jason todd #jason todd #bamf danny phantom #alley drunk! danny au #danny: i'm grieving #jason: wanna bet? #that's right jason's this universe's jazz fenton #this universe's danny fenton died and that's why danny can exist here without causing issues #danny: i have adopted a random child #danny: this child is jazz wtf

[beescake]

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

or

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

#ask #anon #sollux captor #homestuck #hs2 spoilers #2023 #vioart #hs2 sollux explaining girls and bitches to john: 🗣️🗣️🗣️ #mr foods‚ setting up the visuals: LMAO ok pause. cool story bro theyre all gone its just u n ur sandwich bro. #now that i think abt it sol's kind of a toaster? awkwardly takes up countertop space #lacks the versatility and sociability of an air fryer/pressure cooker. unwashed and littered w crumbs! #but sometimes the clear‚ frank simplicity of the toaster is a temporary lifesaver for ppl who struggle w low appetite / decision fatigue #or ppl who just have a habit of eating toast for breakfast LOL #and eh ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ even if u dont feel like toasting today thats ok he's still gonna be sitting there 👍👍 #a funnyman..... i curse him in my pan but root for him in my biscuit 🫶

[handmade-witch]

Another round of Incorrect Quotes Generator x Slytherin Boys:

Part 1 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 ☆ Part 6

Mattheo: Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff.

Draco: YOU PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS!

☆☆☆

Draco: Hey, quick question. How petty am I allowed to be?

☆☆☆

Mattheo: I’m not stupid, you know.

[Y/n]: Well, you’re doing a really good impression of it!

☆☆☆

Mattheo: She's the girl of my dreams!

Theodore: You say every girl is the girl of your dreams.

Mattheo: I have a lot of dreams!

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration*

Mattheo: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

[Y/N]: I—

[Y/N]: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

☆☆☆

Draco: I have an idea.

[Y/n]: A good idea?

Draco: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

☆☆☆

*Draco is laying on the floor with their eyes closed*

Mattheo: Hey, are they sleeping or dead?

Theodore: Hopefully dead, I hated them.

Mattheo: Yeah, me too.

Draco, sitting up: First of all, fuck you guys.

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: That sounds like a terrible plan.

Theodore: Oh, we've had worse.

☆☆☆

[Y/N], texting Mattheo: Text me when you’re home safely.

Mattheo: I’m home dangerously.

[Y/N]: Stop it.

Mattheo: I’m home lethally.

☆☆☆

Draco: Hey, what have you two been up to?

Mattheo: We were helping [Y/N] write their vows, but they kicked us out because Lorenzo was making inappropriate suggestions.

Lorenzo: How is “Theodore, I love your sweet ass” inappropriate?

☆☆☆

[Y/N], talking about Mattheo: Is this a friend of yours, Draco?

Draco: Kind of? Not really. They're in my life and there's nothing I can do about it.

☆☆☆

Theodore: What is wrong with you?

Mattheo: Loaded question. Elaborate.

☆☆☆

Draco: Guess what I'm about to get!

Blaise: On my nerves.

☆☆☆

Blaise: All of your existences are confusing.

The Squad: How so?

Blaise: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you deeply upsets me.

☆☆☆

Draco: How did you convince everyone to betray me? What did you offer them?

Blaise: I just asked if they wanted to embarass you and they all said yes.

☆☆☆

Theodore: Hey, are you okay?

[Y/N]: Yeah.

Theodore: You don't look okay...

[Y/N]: Then stop looking.

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: Ah ready for another fantastic day of being better than Draco.

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: Kill me nowwwww.

Mattheo: Sorry, no can do. I need your help with my homework.

☆☆☆

Mattheo: Lorenzo! For the love of god, please turn down that music. I have a hangover.

Lorenzo: *blasting the mii theme at full volume* That sounds like a you problem, not a mii problem.

☆☆☆

Draco: You read my diary?

Blaise: At first I did not know it was your diary. I thought it was a very sad handwritten book.

☆☆☆

Blaise: [Y/N] won’t come out of their room!

Mattheo: Just tell them I said something.

Blaise: Like what?

Mattheo: Anything factually incorrect.

Blaise, shrugging: If you say so.

[Y/N], arriving moments later: Did you just say the sun is a PLANET?

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: If you got arrested what would be the charges?

Lorenzo: Theft.

Blaise: Disturbing the peace.

Theodore: Aggravated assault.

Draco: Arson.

Mattheo: All of the above. In that order, probably

☆☆☆

Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle.

Blaise, with Theodore and Mattheo behind them: Wait, what do you mean THREE?!

Police: Yes…three.

Blaise: Oh, my God— What the fuck!?

Police: Wha-

Blaise: Lorenzo FUCKING FELL OFF!

☆☆☆

Mattheo: I said ‘No’ to drugs, but they wouldn’t listen.

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait.

Lorenzo: You and me!

[Y/N]: *tearing up* Ok.

☆☆☆

Theodore: *yawns*

[Y/N]: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring.

Theodore: Then you must be exhuasted.

Blaise: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.

#slytherin boys #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #blaise zabini #matteo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #blaise zabini x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #lorenzo berkshire x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter universe

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Pour Some Sugar On Me

(Older!Alpha Eddie x Omega!Reader)

Summary: It’s been four months since you’ve been mated to Eddie in secret. When he takes you to “Lovers Lake” for a picnic and tells you he’s never hooked up there, it’s only right that you remedy that. WK: 1.8K

Warnings: General Omegaverse behaviors, scenting, knotting, biting, unprotected sex, outside sex, pet names, a whole lotta gushy mushy fluff. No physical descriptions of reader besides her outfit but she does have the nickname “sugar” 18+MNDI!

A/N: SURPISEEE SHAWTY!! I know it’s been a minute since I posted a ST fic but I randomly got the spark to write this today! This is set in the middle of Everlasting Sweeheart before Sugar’s dad finds out about them. Older!Eddie edit is by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple.

You’ve been seeing Eddie in secret for about four months now and it couldn’t be more perfect. Aside from the fact that it was a secret. It was hard, having to hide your mate from everyone in your life. The only person you’ve told is your childhood best friend but she lives states away. A few of your employees asked about your mark and you brushed them off, not wanting to go into details. You haven’t seen your dad since that day at the shop, the day you realized that Eddie worked for him. You missed him, and you hate sneaking around behind his back. Even though it was your idea to wait, you were ready to tell him. But your mate? He wasn’t quite there yet. So you decided not to push him for now and to just enjoy your little bubble.

Today Eddie has something “special” planned for the two of you but refuses to tell you where you’re going. He does this with every date, plans something elaborate or something as simple as a movie night at home. But it was always romantic. He put a lot of thought into these dates and it made sneaking around infinitely easier on you. On those days, it feels everything and everyone but you and Eddie cease to exist.

“Alright sugar pie, you ready?” Eddie yells down the hall, you made him leave the room so you could get ready because you had a little surprise of your own. He didn’t tell you where you were going, but he at least told you that you were riding on his bike and not in one of his cars. So you’d know what to wear. And it just so happened you had the perfect outfit.

Thus far he's only seen your softer side, your little mini dresses and Mary Jane’s with ribbons tied in your hair. Which was great for when you worked at the bakery, comfy shoes, easy movement, kept your hair out of your face. But there’s a whole other side to you he has yet to discover. You were raised by a biker, after all. You look at yourself in the mirror and smirk. You had even styled your hair differently and your make up was darker than your everyday look. Eddie was going to shit.

“Yeah baby, I’m ready.” You exit the room and Eddie’s jaw literally drops and his keys that were dangling from his fingers fall to the ground.

“Sugar… you look…” his eyes roam your figure, drinking in every inch, every detail. The glossy leather of your thigh high platform boots. The little black ripped jean shorts. The tiny little white tank top. And last but not least? You’re wearing a fucking leather battle jacket. “Wow. You look so fucking sexy. Did you get new clothes?”

“Nah. This is stuff I’ve had forever. I actually started this jacket back in highschool and have gradually added to or changed it. I feel like you’re forgetting who my dad is, Eddie bear. Have you ever looked in my closet? There’s more to me than you think.” You approach him, running your cherry red fingernail along his jaw, causing him to shiver under your touch.

“You’re telling me my little sugar girl has a bad ass rocker side I don’t even know about?” He grips your hips in his large ringed hands, pulling your body taunt against his.

“Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out.” You pull back, shooting him a wink. “You ready to go or are you gonna stand here and ogle me all night?”

“Oh baby, I’m gonna ogle you alright… but, I’m ready to go.” He gives your butt a little pat before leaning down to pick up his keys. “Come on, get your sexy ass out the door.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going. You don’t have to be pushy.” You tease, giggling as you connect his lips to yours.

Eddie drove his bike to the edge of town, turning down a dirt road and stopping when he reached the lake he apparently nicknamed “lovers lake”. He had a whole picnic packed tightly in the seat compartment of his motorcycle with all your favorite foods and treats. He even brought little candles and wine.

“This is nice Eddie, it’s really pretty here.” Your head is resting on his shoulder and you smile up at him sweetly.

“Yeah? I’m glad baby. Used to come out here in highschool in my van. Open up the back and just smoke and think, enjoy the silence. Figured it would be nice.” He smooths a hand over your hair before cupping your cheek, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

“All by yourself? You didn’t bring any girls out here? That’s why they call it lovers lake, right?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him playfully.

“Ha! No, definitely didn’t bring any girls out here. Teenage Eddie wasn’t very popular with the ladies.”

“Hmm… that’s too bad, seems like a nice place to get your guts rearranged by a hot metal head, if you ask me.” You rest a hand on his chest, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

That’s how you ended up where you are now, bent over Eddie’s bike, your shorts discarded on the ground somewhere, panties pushed to the side and his tongue buried as deep inside you as possible. He insisted you keep the boots and the jacket on because it was “really doing it for him”.

“Fuck baby, you always taste so sweet.” Eddie mumbles against your core, the vibrations causing you to moan out. His skilled tongue pushes you closer to the edge with each passing second. He leans down to take your clit between his lips as his thick digits circle your entrance. He starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right so they brush against your sweet spot with each stroke. It has you seeing stars, your pussy clenching so tightly around his fingers he feels like they’re going to get pushed out.

“Oh my god! Fuck, Eddie! Feels so fucking good, you always make me cum so good. Want your cock.”

“Don’t worry sugar, I’m not fucking done with you yet.” You hear the sound of his belt, followed by his zipper. He pushes his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, taking it in his hand and running it through your slick folds. “How bad do you want it?”

“So bad alpha, want your knot.” You whimper as you push back against him. He pushes into you in one breath taking thrust.

“Ah fuck, you’re always so god damn tight.” Eddie pushes his hips flush against yours, his tip brushing against your sweet spot. His hands grip onto your ass, the cool night air making his rings cold against your skin. He squeezes the flesh of your cheeks while he starts to rock into you slow and deep, teasing you.

“Eddie, faster, please, go faster.” You bounce back against him, your ass jiggling deliciously in his tattooed hands.

“Yeah? My pretty girl wants it faster?” He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back inside you, the sound of his hips clapping against your ass echoing through the trees. He starts to fuck into you hard and fast, your upper half resting against the plush bike seat and the tips of your boot clad feet are the only thing touching the ground.

“Mmm alpha, I need your cum. Need your knot. You make me feel so fucking full.”

Eddie leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, making his cock thrust even deeper inside you. One of his hands snakes around you to rub your clit while he brings his lips to your neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses along the expanse of your throat. He shoves his nose into your scent gland and inhales, your sugary sweet scent sending his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“You smell so fucking good omega. My omega. My sweet girl.” He nips at the skin of your neck before biting down, latching his teeth to your skin. It’s all too much. It all feels too good. The speed of the circles on your clit increases and that’s all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge.

“Ohmygod! Eddieeee, mmm fuck.” He fucks you through it before leaning up off of you to chase his own high.

“This pussy’s so fucking good. Tastes so sweet. Sucks me in so good. So tight. Fucking made for me.” His eyes don’t know where to settle, his thick cock disappearing into your creamy walls over and over again. The way your back is curved from how you’re bent over his bike. The way those fucking boots hug the top of your thighs.

“Give your cum alpha, fuck a pup into me.”

“Oh god.” His hips slap hard against yours a few more times before he’s pushing them flush against your ass, filling you with ropes of his cum. His knot starts to swell inside you and he goes to pull out so you aren’t stuck in this awkward position until it goes down but you just hook your leg around his, keeping him in place.

“No, I want your knot, Eddie. I’ll stay like this all night just to have it.”

“Jesus Christ.” You let out a little whimper that turns into a loud moan as his knot pops inside you. The feeling sending you into another mind blowing orgasm. Eddie leans his chest down against you again so he can leave loving little pecks against your cheek and rub his nose against your throat.

“That was so fucking hot.” You giggle, reaching behind you to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Yeah, it was, but now we’re stuck like this. So I’m gonna need you to stop laughing or we are going to be stuck here all night.” Eddie chuckles as he leans into your touch.

“Just fall back on your ass, it’ll be fine.”

He leans up, gripping your hips as he lets his ass fall back onto the ground. He lands with you on top of his lap with a gentle thud.

“Guess this isn’t so bad.” Eddie cups your cheek, turning your head to the side so he can connect your lips in a passionate kiss. No matter how many times he kisses you like this you think it’ll still make a bomb filled with butterflies go off in your stomach.

“So… how was your first lovers lake hookup?”

“World altering. Wouldn’t have wanted it to be with anyone else. I love you, sugar.”

“I love you too Eddie, so much.” You giggle fondly, taking his face in your hand.

“You’ve seriously gotta stop with that cute ass giggling or I’m just gonna have to fuck you again.”

“Maybe that’s what I want?” You raise a challenging eyebrow at him, a smirk spread across your lips.

“Ohhh you’re in for it now.” He grabs your hips, manhandling you onto your hands and knees with his knot still inside you. “I can stay here all night.”

Taglist: @eddiesxangel @bimbobaggins69 @fairymunson @artistwhodoesntpost @witchyhippysstuff @djoseph-quinn @freak-of-hawkins

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #Dolly writes #alpha!eddie munson #alpha!eddie #alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader #older!eddie munson #older!eddie x reader #everlasting sweetheart #eddie munson x reader smut #older!eddie smut

[webslingingslasher]

Care less

for the frat!peter girlies.

Peter blames his aunt. 

May went and raised him to look forward to the middle of february. She would make little boxes and handwritten notes tied up with a fun-sized candy bar. May told him it was a day to celebrate love in its entirety. For a friend, for a teacher, for just the sake of love existing everywhere you went. 

Except, not everyone likes valentine's day. Some even hate it. Some would loathe the day so much that Peter feels like an idiot for caring. Dinner reservations that were going to be ignored, flowers that would go wilted and chocolates that were never going to get eaten. 

Peter has a handful of nothing and the one time he really wanted to outperform himself, it was brushed off and it was his aunt’s fault for getting his hopes up about valentine’s day. He had been so thoughtful too, planning weeks ahead to book a dinner slot and a fun date. Not to mention the mini fortune he spent on roses, not that you were a giant fan of roses but every girl deserves a bouquet on valentine’s, even if they triple in price. Peter even bought a second bunch of your favorite kind, just to prove he cared. 

It meant nothing. His efforts meant nothing and maybe he shouldn’t have assumed, but he never thought that you’d hate the holiday. It was a day entirely built around feelings, around love- and you just rolled your eyes at him. 

“I fucking hate valentine’s day.” You said it like it was nothing, taking two bites of a banana and handing it over to Peter. He asked if you were excited, maybe even hinting at that you should be excited. Peter Parker was about to romance the hell out of you. But not anymore. 

“Explain that one for me?” A toss, the peel falls into the trash can. You shrug as if you’ve never thought about it before, but it’s something you’ve held in your chest for as long as you can remember. 

“It was a holiday created by girls who didn’t feel loved enough by their boyfriends, or something. I think the practice is stupid, you should treat me good and do nice things for me everyday, not just once a year. And everything is crowded! Everyone has the same lame idea about dinner and a movie and flowers and… it’s just not something I buy into.” 

Peter feels every bit of him curl up and die inside. Valentines is his third favorite holiday, he adores the pinks, reds, and purples. He loves seeing couples of every stage, the beginning stages or lifelong partners. They all love the same; with everything in them. 

“Well, actually, I do have a confession. Chocolate covered strawberries. They’re outrageously expensive, but I buy them every year. If you’re wondering, I was hoping we could boycott the baby holiday and eat some strawberries or something.” 

A small lift in his heart, it’s something. You’d be happy with one thing and he could deliver that, but first he has to try and sway you, right? Peter needs to preach what valentine’s is about, he needs you to understand how lovely it is. 

“I’m surprised you hate it so much. I figured you’d love it, since it’s pink and feelings, and stuff.” You wink at him, you think it’s a joke and Peter’s in the same boat as you. “I know, right? It always seemed so gimmicky to me, I think.” 

“That doesn’t mean it’s bad.” You pretend gag, Peter feels his heart sink into the hollow of his chest. “You’re right, it’s cringy and that makes it so much worse.” Peter doesn’t agree, not even in the slightest. Nothing about it is cringy, there’s nothing embarrassing about showing you love someone. 

“Right. It’s cringy and a gimmick and everyone who participates is stupid.” Maybe he’s a little cynical, it hits harder when you nod with exaggeration. “So glad you agree, petey!” He doesn’t. Peter couldn’t be further away from your opinion but he’s really not in the mood to be shut down or judged, so, he just changes the subject and tries to ignore everything crumbling apart in the back of his mind. 

“Isn’t this cute?” 

You squint your eyes when you read the card, a tiny smile shows. “It’s cute. Not worth…” You snatch the glorified cardstock and flip it, your eyes widen, you pretend to choke on the dollar amount. “Ten dollars, holy shit. For some glitter? Fuck that.” 

You want it out of your hold, scared that if even a speckle spread you’d be forced to buy it. “What happened to the good old days of making your own card? My mom used to eat that up.” 

Peter delicately sets the card down, he tries to see it how you do, but he can’t. Sure, it’s wildly marked up, but wouldn’t your partner be worth the price? Peter would buy the moon for you if he could, a ten dollar Hallmark card won’t be his holdup. 

But, maybe you’d like a handmade one more. He can do that. 

Peter’s trying to be mindful of your opinion while also planting the seed that valentine’s isn’t all that bad into your brain. It’s days away and all he can hear in the back of his mind is ‘I fucking hate valentine’s day.’ 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Peter- do you fucking see this?” 

A romantic gesture? A public display of love and admiration? Dozens of carefully inflated heart shaped balloons? A girl crying into the arms of her friend while her partner showers her with flowers. Is it the love? Is that what you’re pointing out? 

“Yeah, it’s-” 

“Disgusting.” 

“-cute.” Peter frowns, is that what you really thought of valentines? Nothing was swaying your mind, Peter thinks that you’re more solidified in your mindset than before. 

“I’m sorry, trouble, but I’m finding it hard believing you hate valentine’s day.” It’s like he just called you a slur, you pull your hand from his and stuff it into your jacket pocket. 

“I don’t hate it, I loathe it. What do you see watching that? Personally, I’m seeing gravel covered flowers and wasted space that turns into deflated balloons. Fuck that.” Peter shakes his head, you’re seeing it wrong. “It’s about the gesture.” 

“It’s about how you love someone so much, there aren't enough things in the world to buy to show it, and there are never the right set of words to say it quite right. I’ll buy all the flowers in the world for you, and I’ll use all the air in my lungs for these balloons but it’ll never match the love I have for you.” 

Peter clears his throat. “That's what I see, anyways. I think valentine’s day is an excuse to be a little cringy and basic because we all want that sometimes.” He might’ve finally broken through, but you crack a grin and bump your shoulder into his. 

“Ah, yes, because I’m so unfulfilled that a man has never gotten me a teddy bear for valentine’s day.” Would you want one? He could get you one. Or could that be a reason you might detest the holiday, not that he’d ever take your opinion for resentment or bitterness. 

“Have you ever had a valentine?” A small stumble, your hand is tied into his again. “Besides elementary, nah. And honestly, I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.” 

‘I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.’ But, now you do, don’t you? 

“Trouble, you do realize you’re my valentine this year, right? And I’m yours?” You feel your breath catch, no, you hadn’t realized. It’s always just been another day for you and you assume the same for Peter, it’s not like there was much to celebrate. 

“It’s also just a day that ends in Y.” Is that really the answer you have? It’s just another day to you, even if you finally have someone to claim? You might not care about the holiday, but Peter does and he’s going to get his valentine’s day, no matter what. 

And you’re going to enjoy a handmade card. 

And a teddy bear. 

Peter’s finger-combing his hair after a shower, he’s had the reservation for weeks, but he also wasn’t aware of your detestment towards red hearts and arrows. 

“Wanna grab some dinner wednesday?” If he didn’t say it by name he’s hoping you won’t scream bloody mary on him. “Sure.” A smile washes over Peter’s face, it drops in a second. “Wait, isn’t that valentine’s day? Ha, yeah, no thank you. You, me, and the entire city? Fuck that.” 

‘Fuck that, fuck that, fuck that.’ Weeks boiled into nothing. “But, if you wanna cuddle and watch a movie I’m down.” It’s something. He’d get to give you flowers and a card and a teddy bear and he can’t forget the strawberries. You told him you loved them. 

“Good with me, trouble.” 

Peter tried to sway your mind, he tried to make you enjoy the love and glitter and colors. But you hated it all. So all he has to do is ditch the flowers and the dinner and just… do nothing. 

Peter’s first real valentine and all he has to do is… nothing. 

Three rose bouquets tossed onto his closet floor, it was haphazardly done. Petals scattered around the cellophane, some even reached to his shoes. They were thrown in without care, they were hidden. 

But they were beautiful. A few front buds have taken a beating, but the others were fully blossomed and lively. You’ve never seen roses in such a vivid red, their petals almost like velvet under your fingertips, their smell unlike any other. 

The thorns have been expertly shredded, nothing but smooth, soft stems in their wake. It doesn’t matter if Peter didn’t mean to have you see them, they were too gorgeous to leave locked away in a dark room. They deserved the affection water and sunlight would give them. 

You clutched all three in your arms, the weight welcomed. You laid them out nicely across his bed, the third bouquet dropped a small card and you picked it right back up. 

‘Trouble- 

This day was made for you. 

Charlie’s at 8. 

Yours, 

Peter’

You bit back a smile. Charlie’s? It’s nice, too nice. And expensive. Peter got you reservations at Charlie’s? Holding the card to your chest you nearly squeal, you have no idea how he kept the secret from you. Or the roses. 

When you hear his bedroom door open you spin, waiting for him to be in the doorway so you can place a thousand kisses. Instead it’s Ethan and he looks surprised. “You’re here?” He points to the flowers, “Peter gave you those?” 

“I found them in his closet, he just tossed them in here! And he must’ve forgotten to tell me about Charlie’s.” Ethan doesn’t smile with you, he’s not sharing any joy. For a second you start to wonder if you were the person who was supposed to receive the gifts. 

“He didn’t forget.” You scrunch your face at him, “I think he did and I need to start getting ready now. Ethan, do you know how nice Charlie’s is? It’s fucking fancy.” You’re not prepared, you don’t have anything that screams Charlie’s worthy in Peter’s closet. 

“No, you’re not hearing me. There is no Charlie’s and there weren't supposed to be roses. I was supposed to get them before you got here, but, here we are. No roses and no Charlie’s.” You smack at his arms, pulling at his fingers to drop your flowers. 

“They’re mine!” Ethan’s on a mission to steal them, and he’s not being gentle. 

“No, you didn’t want them.” 

You watch him for a second, how could he say that, of course you want them. Thirty six reminders of Peter, how could you ever say no? You fight for what's yours, Ethan allows you to keep one bouquet. 

“I do want them!” 

Ethan’s not being nice to you tonight, he’s gruff with his response. “No. You didn’t.’ 

“You keep saying didn’t! I never said I didn’t want…” 

Except you did. Just like you said you didn’t want to get dinner with Peter. You feel terrible, you feel like crying. He’d had this planned for weeks and the whole time all you did was poke fun and degrade the holiday not knowing you were crushing him behind the scenes. 

You wanted the flowers, but you didn’t deserve them. You hand over the last bouquet silently. 

“I think it’s best if you pretend you didn’t see these.” You can’t imagine the ache Peter must have in his chest, he planned something out just for you to stomp all over it. It’s not about the value, it was the gesture. He can’t tell you how he feels, but taking you out to one of the nicest places in the city, where you know it has a month minimum reservation list makes you understand him just a little bit better. 

“This is so bad, Ethan. This is so,” you suck in air, “so bad.” 

“It’s not terrible,” a crinkle when he shifts weight. “But it’s not great.” You wince, if you could, you’d go back in time and shove your foot in your mouth, or tell yourself to shut the fuck up. 

“Well, I mean, what the fuck?! It’s fucking Peter! How was I supposed to know he was pro valentines day?”

“How was he supposed to know you were anti valentines day?” 

You sink to the bed and hold your head in your hands, “I just want Peter right now.” You want to hug him and kiss him and tell him how sorry you were. Ethan hesitates for a second, before stepping closer to lay the flowers across your lap. 

“You found them. They’re yours.” You protect them from being taken, but still have self-pity. “I don’t deserve them.” Ethan scoffs, “of course you do. Everyone deserves pretty flowers.” 

You pout at yourself in the mirror and fix any smudges. Brushing out any stray wrinkles your newest dress might’ve made on the way over. Ethan had very kindly instructed a pledge to pick you up an outfit so you could change before Peter got back. 

With minutes to spare, he’s back and taking a deep breath at your appearance. “Wow.” A surprised hum when you kiss him, you wipe red from his bottom lip while you apologize. “I’m so sorry, petey.” 

“For what?” A look around the room, red roses give him the reason. “Oh. Hey, it’s no big deal and I-” A frown when you silence him by holding a finger to his lips. 

“I’m sorry. I found those flowers and all I could think about was you and how much it meant to me that you got those for me, then I saw the card and I couldn’t believe you got us reservations and I just felt… special. I’ve never had a valentine, but I get it now. It’s just a day you get to dote on me extra hard.” 

Another surprise kiss, “and if you didn’t already cancel I think we can get to Charlie’s on time. But if you did, that’s okay. Because I think those are the most lovely flowers I have ever gotten, and I might have seen a little teddy bear in there but I didn’t wanna get too presumptuous.” 

This time, Peter kissed you. “There’s also a homemade card.” 

“You didn’t!” You fall in closer to his chest, his hands can have free reign tonight, you wore the dress just for him. 

“I did. I even wrote a little poem.” 

A chaste kiss, “just when I think you can’t get better.” 

“There’s also glow in the dark mini golf planned for after.” A peck, “so thoughtful and handsome.”

A whisper, he’s got blown pupils and hoping he’d get another kiss. “And your strawberries are in the fridge.” 

Your hearts about to explode, “fuck, I love-” you stop yourself, but you heard it and so did Peter. He brushes it off, “love?” Fuck it, you’ll both keep circling around it. 

“Yeah, I love love.” 

A hungry kiss, a squeeze to the back of your thighs. “Yeah, I love love, too.” 

#frat!peter blurbs #peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #uni extras

[steddiealltheway]

I feel so bad for Steve. Because everyone he surrounds himself with are so highly intelligent. Like not even just smart, they’re off the charts gifted type kids.

And they all think Steve is so dumb. Like, yes he couldn’t get into Tech, but that doesn’t mean he’s the dumbest person to exist. And I especially hate how much they lean into that in season four.

But then Eddie comes along, Eddie who is redoing his senior year for the third time, and he sees Steve.

He recognizes how much the kids and his friends berate him for his ideas and thoughts. And he can’t help but feel the need to reach out and acknowledge how great he really is. That he has qualities other than the great intelligence his friends possess.

And he tries to make sure that Steve knows that it’s alright that he doesn’t know stuff. Like he doesn’t know Ozzy, and that’s okay. He just explains it and moves on to his main point.

He doesn’t get upset when Steve doesn’t understand something. He just slowly explains it to him in multiple ways until he understands - he loves the look Steve gets when he has a lightbulb moment. (Eddie later gives Dustin a speech on patience)

Later on, when Eddie is explaining something to Steve, he doesn’t nod back or ask questions like he usually does. He just stares at Eddie’s lips.

“Steve…?”

Steve hums and quickly looks away from his lips, a blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Eddie asks slightly amused. Steve doesn’t respond. His mouth opens and closes a few times.

“You can ask me anything, Steve.”

Steve looks at him and swallows loudly. He runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Have you… have you every had feelings…” Steve trails off and heavily sighs. He starts again, “Can… can people… like… girls and… boys?”

Eddie stares at Steve incredulously and explains, “Yes. They can. It’s called bisexuality.”

“Bisexuality,” Steve parrots.

Eddie nods. Steve seems to grasp the concept quickly, but Eddie can feel that he has more to say. He remains silent.

Eddie doesn’t push it, so he goes back to explaining what he was before.

A few weeks later, Eddie makes his usual Friday night stop at Family Video right before closing. He notices almost all the lights are already off inside, but the door is unlocked. He makes his way inside and winces as he hears Steve’s voice carry from the back room.

“I can’t tell him!”

“Steve, you’re an idiot if you don’t,” Robin says. Eddie winces.

“That’s exactly it! I’m a fucking idiot. I’m an idiot who goes to see him weekly so he can explain the dumbest things to me! And you want me to tell him what? That I have feelings for him?! Me, Steve ‘the dingus’ Harrington loves Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?!”

His voice gets louder by the end as the door to the back room opens up.

Eddie makes eye contact with Steve. He freezes.

“Why’d you stop, Dingus?” Robin asks pushing past him. She looks at Eddie. “Shit.”

Eddie and Steve continue staring at each other.

“Well,” Robin says awkwardly, “I’m just gonna…” she gathers her stuff up from the counter and walks towards the front door, “Hey, look. Nancy’s here to pick me up. So that’s great. You two uhh… have a good time. Later…” she salutes the two of them and exits.

Eddie continues staring at Steve who hasn’t broken eye contact with him since he’s seen him.

“Steve…” Eddie breaks the silence.

“Don’t do that,” Steve begs.

“Do what?”

Steve breaks, “Talk to me like that! You’re not supposed to use that tone. You’re not supposed to treat me like I’m stupid. And I know I am. But you weren’t supposed to find out about my… my feelings. Because I’m an idiot. And you would never date an idiot. No one loves a fucking idiot.”

Eddie jumps over the counter and rushes into Steve’s personal space, grabbing his hands. “Steve, I have never thought you were dumb. You’re not. You never have been. But right now, for once, you’re being an idiot.”

Steve’s hands snap away from Eddie’s. “What?”

“You, Steve Harrington, are an idiot for thinking that I wouldn’t fall for you. That I haven’t already.”

Steve stares at Eddie and shakes his head.

“I like you,” Eddie explains. It clicks in his head that sometimes Steve is a visual and kinesthetic learner. So he does the one thing he can think of and cups Steve jaw and brings him slowly in.

Steve’s hands make their way into his hair and pull him the rest of the distance. The kiss is sweet and gentle and full of promise.

Steve breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Eddie’s. He huffs out a laugh, “Was that your way of explaining to me that you like me?”

“Did it work?” Eddie asks.

“Yes.”

#steddie #my rant turned into a ficlet #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington

[theeoriginals]

Idea: Reader is part of the scooby gang (an adult doing them a favour or something - pls not a teenager it makes me cringe) and Klaus catches her staring (because obviously) and is cocky and flirty and likes riling her up

i just like you | klaus mikaelson

author's note; this was so fun omfg i love him sm

warnings: honestly sort of grumpyxsunshine but somehow klaus is the sunshine here ? teasing, taunting, klaus is a flirty menace, reader is super in denial, implied that reader is a vampire hunter but it's not really important, also this exists in some sort of strange canon universe so don't read into it too much, fluff, making out, a steamy-ish scene at the end, but it doesn't get too graphic so don't worry! no use of y/n!

She doesn’t like owing people favors. She doesn’t like when other people owe her favors, either, but people seem to think that trading things off is the best way to live, and she’s hardly got the power to change something so universally accepted. 

She doesn’t like owing people favors, but in this case, it’s not something she can renegotiate. Alaric saved her life, and the least she could do is help him out with something. 

Her view on that changes very quickly when he looks at her and tells her they want her to make a deal with the devil. In fact, she’d rather Alaric had just let her die than ask her to do anything with or for Klaus Mikaelson. 

“I would quite literally rather die than do that, Ric,” She deadpans, givin him a completely unamused look that makes him grimace. 

“No, I know, I know,” He holds his hands up, a desperation to his pleading tone. “It’s a lot to ask of you, but no one else can deal with him like you do. They’d end up dead, or something,” 

“Why do you think I can deal with him any differently than you, or Damon, or something? I hate him just as much!” 

“Oh, well, that’s just not very nice of you, darling,” The man in question drawls, smirk audible in his voice as they look over to where he’s sitting on Alaric’s couch, looking like he practically lives there. She supposes he technically did, for a minute. “Hate is such a strong word.” 

She gives him a saccharine smile, tilting her head. “I’m so sorry, Klaus, did I hurt your feelings? I didn’t know that evil hybrids who kill anyone who breathes wrong could have feelings.” 

Klaus’s smirk only widens at her visible ire, and he props his chin up on his hand as he looks at her. “I have every feeling for you, sweetheart,” 

Her eyes momentarily widen to the size of dinner plates, and then she quickly schools her expression back into a flat glare, snapping her gaze away from him as she huffs unhappily. “You want me to deal with that all day, Alaric? By myself? I thought we were friends,” 

“We are friends,” He stresses, shooting Klaus a warning look that the Original dutifully ignores. “That’s why I’m asking you to do this. All you have to do is make the drive up to Whitmore and get the rest of Isobel’s stuff– we need to see if she has any information on the cure, or anything like that.” 

“Doesn’t Bonnie have that professor guy that was telling her a bunch of stuff? Can’t we just go to him?” 

“Damon doesn’t trust that guy,” Alaric says. “And before you ask, no, you can’t make Damon go. He and Klaus will kill each other if they’re in the same vehicle for that long.” 

“He’s right about that,” Klaus says, still happily in his place on the couch. “Damon’s got such a temper these days. Can’t even handle a joke anymore.” 

She scrunches her face up, giving him an incredulous look. “The only jokes you make are about the time you tried to kill Elena,” 

“How would we cope if we couldn’t make jokes about these sorts of things?” 

Her incredulity only deepens and she drags her gaze back to Alaric pointedly, earning an exhausted sigh from the teacher. “Klaus,” He starts, that same desperation still in his voice. “Can we all just play nice? For once we have something to be united about– could you possibly not jeopardize everyone’s lives again?” 

Klaus heaves a sigh, standing from the couch in a swift movement and crossing the short distance to where they stand. “Certainly. I’m nothing if not professional, you know this.” 

“Uh huh,” Alaric deadpans. “Can you be… professional enough to not provoke her into leaving you stranded somewhere, or something?” 

“I’m sure we can work something out,” The hybrid drops his gaze to hers, bright eyes alight with mischief. “So long as she stops pouting.” 

She huffs, dutifully not pouting. Narrowing her eyes, she offers a hand out to him, ignoring the amusement that sparks in his eyes at her formalness. “It’s for the greater good of all of us, right? I’m sure I can suffer through anything for that.” 

Klaus shakes her hand firmly, and she ignores the way it feels like he’s laughing at her. “I’m sure you can.” 

────── 

“I take it all back, I’m going to murder him, and then myself.” 

“Hello to you, too. I take it it’s going well?” Alaric’s voice comes through the speaker of her phone as she walks beside Klaus, ignoring the crowds of college students they’re pushing their way past to head to Isobel’s old office. 

“Oh, it’s going so well, besides the fact that our vehicle just broke down as soon as we got to Whitmore.” 

She can practically hear Alaric’s wince of sympathy through the phone. “Can’t Klaus just compel you another vehicle?” 

“You would think so, but I already tried that, and he said it wouldn’t be very cooperative of him to take advantage of people. He’s apparently all for the teamwork these days,” She shoots him a glare, face twisting into one of disdain when all he does is give her a wide smirk. “Alaric, I cannot be stranded here with him. It was one thing if it was a few hours, but I cannot survive any longer than that.” 

Alaric breathes out her name on an exasperated sigh, and she tries to ignore the slight pin prick of guilt that stabs at her because of it. “Have you called a mechanic or anything?” 

She bites the tip of her tongue roughly. “Yeah. They’re coming to tow it, and they said it’ll be like, tomorrow morning at the earliest before it’s done.” 

“Can you survive the night? For real? Or do you want me to drive up there and get you?” 

She nearly blurts out that she won’t survive, that he needs to come get her as soon as he leaves work, but she stops herself, eyes drifting to Klaus, who seems to be awaiting her answer as well. Sighing tiredly, she shakes her head, even though Alaric can’t see her. “I’ll be fine, I’m just being dramatic. Don’t worry about me, alright? I– Klaus and I will handle this. It’s no big deal, I promise.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m positive,” She reassures, stopping at the steps that lead to Isobel’s office building. “I’ll text you later tonight after we’ve had some time to go through some of the stuff, okay?” 

“Okay. Thank you,” He sounds infinitely less stressed at her reassurances, and the guilt she’d been feeling dissipates easily. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

She echoes the goodbye and quickly pockets her phone again, immediately turning to Klaus to give him a glare that she can’t even really call a glare because of the complete and utter lack of any real heat behind it. Gesturing widely to the building before them, she sighs. “Let’s get this over with.” 

The office is devoid of any lingering students, and she wonders if it was done on purpose. The only person there besides her and Klaus is the girl at the desk, and she racks her brain for the girl’s name, because Alaric had told her earlier before they left. 

“Hi,” She starts, stepping in front of Klaus slightly as they approach the desk. “Alaric called earlier and said we’d be coming up to get some of Isobel’s research, I think?” 

The girl stands, a small smile on her face as she nods. “Of course. I’m Vanessa, I was Isobel’s intern.” 

Vanessa, she internally scolds herself for not remembering, before giving her name back in return. “And this is Klaus.” 

The Original offered a charming smile, and she saw some degree of recognition flutter in Vanessa’s eyes as her smile grew wider, equally charmed and awed. “Lovely to meet you, Vanessa,” 

“You’re Klaus Mikaelson, aren’t you?” She breathes out, shaking her head in disbelief as she leads them to Isobel’s private office. “Isobel was fascinated  with the story of the Originals, but there wasn’t ever enough information to figure out what was true and what wasn’t.” 

Klaus hums, practically preening under the attention. “Such are the consequences of living as long as I have. I can hardly remember what’s real and what’s not,” 

Vanessa’s face lights up with an idea, and she steps towards Klaus excitedly. “Would you mind if I asked you some questions? It would do our research a lot of good to have something new,” 

“Oh, well–” 

“We have a lot to do,” She quickly cuts in over their voices, offering a sharp smile to Vanessa. “But if we have time later, I’m sure he’d love to give you a tell-all interview.” 

Vanessa’s smile dims slightly but she nods, gesturing for them to go into the open office. “It’s all in there. Let me know if you need my help with anything.” 

“We will definitely do that,” She says, ignoring the twitch in her fingers as pushes Klaus into the office ahead of her. “Thank you so much!” 

She shuts the door firmly behind her and lets out a sharp sigh, her eyes fluttering open where she hadn’t even realized they’d shut. She finds Klaus staring at her, and immediately looks away, ducking past him to head for one of the packed boxes in the office, collecting dust. “What?” 

Klaus makes an amused little hum in the back of his throat. “Oh, nothing,”

“There’s clearly something,” 

“There is, but I don’t think you’d enjoy hearing it from me,” 

She halts her movements, hands falling limp on the file folders sorted neatly inside one box. Turning to look at him over her shoulder, she raises a brow. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m curious as to what Vanessa did to earn your disdain,” He says, shrugging lightly, keeping his voice purposefully aloof. 

She rolls her eyes, returning to pilfering through the box, skimming the labels on the file. “She was distracting you. We came here to do something, and we need to do it. That’s all.” 

He makes that irritating noise again, and she pauses once more, this time turning to face him fully. “What? What is so funny about that? Might I remind you, we need to learn about this cure for you just as much as anyone else.” 

He smirks, picking up a box from the floor and putting it on the table in front of him. “Of course. But only if you admit you were jealous,”

She feels the blood in her veins freeze as she stares at him, and she knows there’s a dawning look of horror growing on her face. “Excuse me?” 

“Just admit that you were jealous of that poor girl in there, and I will do as much research as you want me to. It’s very simple.” 

“Jealous,” She echoes, her voice faint the longer she looks at him. “You think that I was jealous because some college kid was treating you like you were the lead singer in her favorite boy band?” 

“Maybe not her favorite boy band, but certainly her favorite Original,” He corrects, grinning deviously. 

“I wasn’t jealous!” She yells somewhat hysterically, face twisting as her pulse races. “I– I have no reason to be jealous, I would never be jealous, I’m not– I’m not jealous! Just– shut up!” 

She waves a hand in his direction, ignoring the warmth in her chest that stings like embarrassment. “Just– shut up, and– and leave me alone! Do what we came here to do,” 

Klaus holds his hands up in surrender, still smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Whatever you say,” 

────── 

They’ve booked a hotel for the night, despite the fact that she’d sooner sleep on the street than stay in a hotel with Klaus Mikaelson. But he graciously offered to pay for it, and she was determined to pretend like their conversation earlier had never happened and that meant acting like absolutely nothing was wrong. 

It meant letting him order them room service, and sitting quietly while they ate. It meant letting him tease and taunt her like he normally did, and working overtime to give him the normal reactions she would have– a glare here and there, a not-so-nice name everywhere else. 

Except now it felt like it was all wrong. It felt like she was being even more obvious than before. All because he called her out. Because he was right. 

Just out of sheer principle, she couldn’t ever tell him that. The last thing he needed was that particular ego boost, from her of all people. 

Their relationship has always been antagonistic, but Klaus has never been nearly as harsh as she has. And now that she’s spent the last six hours thinking about every single interaction they’ve ever had, she feels somewhat stupid for not even letting herself contemplate the idea that she could one day be jealous over Klaus Mikaelson. 

But even in that same vein, she understands why it never crossed her mind until he pointed it out. It was non-negotiable, having any sort of relationship like that with Klaus. She’d been friends with Alaric since he first met Isobel, she couldn’t just go and sleep with the guy who killed his girlfriend, let alone have feelings for him. 

The thought alone made her stomach swirl with guilt, but she was determined to not let Klaus in on any of her inner turmoil, considering he’d get some insane satisfaction out of the fact that it’s all his fault. 

By the time they make their way to the private bedroom in the ridiculously grand hotel room Klaus had gotten them for the night, it doesn’t really register in her mind that they not only don’t have any sort of pajamas due to the fact that this wasn’t supposed to be an overnight trip, but the only bedroom in the suite has one bed. 

It doesn’t register in her mind until she’s already in bed, resigned to the fact that she’ll be sleeping in her t-shirt and underwear, and Klaus makes his way over to the bed like it’s no big deal. 

“Hey, hey, what the hell are you doing?” 

He raises a brow at her, gesturing to the bed. “Going to bed. We’ve got an early morning ahead of us if you have any chance of making it back to Mystic Falls alive.” 

She rolls her eyes at his taunting recollection of her complaints, and she holds up a hand, keeping the blankets tucked carefully around her hips as she sits up. “Why wouldn’t you get a room with two beds?” 

“Because it’s one night, darling,” He drawls, signature smirk twitching on his lips. “But if you have some particular feeling that would make sharing a bed with me uncomfortable, then I–”

“No!” She cuts him off, feeling like she was just backed into a corner. “No issue. Just– keep your hands to yourself.” 

He winks at her, and she ignores the way it makes her heart race. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” 

She shuffles back down into the bed and turns onto her side away from him, suddenly too conscious of the fact that she doesn’t have any pants on, and that if someone had told her this morning she’d be pantsless, in bed with Klaus Mikaelson, she probably would’ve punched them and then spent the rest of her life dreaming about it. 

It’s only slightly humiliating. 

Once Klaus is settled in the bed, presumably undressed to the same degree she is if the shuffling she’d heard a minute ago was anything to go by, he turns the lamp off, encasing them in darkness. 

After too long, her hip starts to ache the longer she lays on her side, and she knows there’s no chance she’ll fall asleep with it throbbing like it is, so she resigns herself to the fact that she’s going to have to move. 

Careful of her spacial awareness, she turns onto her back, and then onto her other side, unable to stop her eyes from landing on the shadows of Klaus’s profile. 

She lets out a small breath, shakier than normal, and clutches her hand against the pillow beneath her head. 

“You’re staring,” 

She groans quietly. “I am not,” 

“You know, I don’t know if I should be honored or not that you don’t act like this with anyone else.” 

She squeezes the pillow again, brows furrowing on her forehead. Her curiosity piqued, despite her best interests. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, you’re horrifically antagonistic on a good day, and downright murderous on a bad one. But you don’t ever lose your temper with anyone else like you do with me,” He observes, voice unintentionally quiet in the privacy of the darkness. If she didn’t know any better, she’d even say it was laced with fondness. 

Pressing her face into her pillow briefly to try and collect herself, she lets her eyes trace the curve of his nose, and his prominent cupid’s bow, backlit by the moon shining in the window. She wonders what he looks like beneath a full moon. She wonders if his eyes shine that burning yellow-gold color the entire night. 

“You do it on purpose,” She mutters, trying to keep her tone from sounding as childish as it does in her head. “I’m not stupid, Klaus. You like riling me up.” 

She hears more than sees his head turn towards her, but she feels the burn of his eyes on her face like the summer sun. 

“Did you ever consider that I just like when you talk to me?” He asks, sounding entirely more vulnerable than she ever thought he was capable of being. 

Her breath stutters on an exhale, and she knows he can hear the way his words make her entire body trip up. Despite being unable to truly meet his eyes in the dark, she searches for them anyway, seeking out the truth that may lie in them. 

He murmurs her name, soft and sweet between the sheets wrapped around them, and she can’t stop herself from pushing forward into his space, draping herself across his chest as she presses their lips together. 

She’s instantly satisfied to hear the shocked noise that spills from his lips, but it’s the last coherent thought she can form once he mirrors her utter desperation. 

He steals the breath from her lungs, barely letting her gasp between his greedy kisses, his hands pulling her further into him, leaving her practically on top of him. 

His hands slide up the fabric of her shirt, grabbing at the bare skin there, groaning at the feel of her moving beneath his touch. 

“Klaus,” She gasps out, panting at the spit-slick sounds of their lips together in the quiet of the hotel room. “Klaus, I have to–” 

She forcibly pulls herself away from him, unable to even blame him for the way she let herself get so caught up as she catches her breath, looking down from where she’s propped above him. 

They fall silent, matching each other’s frantic but slowing breaths as their spilled-over tension finally seems to simmer out. 

A huff of a laugh comes from beneath her and she frowns slightly, looking at him. “What?” 

His hands clench where they’re still gripping her waist, and she visibly shivers at the rough touch. “You were jealous, weren’t you?” 

She instinctively slaps a hand against his bare shoulder, wondering how she hadn’t noticed he’d taken his shirt off when he got into bed. “You are such a dick,” She shakes her head, but she’s already leaning back in to kiss him again despite herself. 

Klaus is quick to meet her halfway, craning his neck up to kiss her again, and she lets out a sudden yelp as he flips them around, pressing her into the mattress beneath him. “Let me make it up to you,” 

She’s nodding before he even finishes speaking, and she thinks, tells herself, that she can’t be faulted for how quickly she forgives him after that.

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson angst #the originals #the originals fanfiction #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson smut #alaric saltzman #tvd #tvd fic recs #the originals fic rec #the originals imagine #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Wow! As the header says, my blog just went past 5k followers - I'd like to extend a heartfelt thank you to everyone who hopped on for this journey; I'm having the time of my life sharing my writing with you all.

In celebration and as a way to have a little fun - I'll be opening my inbox for a day and letting those who want to send in something fill it up!

Now, I know you're probably asking yourself 'Hal, I thought you said requests are going to be closed so you can finish the ones you have and work on the AUs?' And you'd be correct - I did say that. I'm not going to be writing full-length works for this event.

To anyone who sends something in (and follows the rules I have in place on my Request Form (be sure to check it even if you've already read it, I added some more characters and other stuff)) I'll be writing one-to-two page drabbles!

All this being said, after this post is uploaded I'll be opening my inbox up to anyone who would want to participate and closing it exactly one day after!

Thank you again for being the best community ever - I'm incredibly lucky to be surrounded by kind and respectful individuals as well as mutuals who are mind-numbingly sweet. I could not have achieved all of this without you; I think that's beautiful.

This post will also serve as the Masterlist for all of the expected drabbles, so if you'd like to keep updated on what's going to be happening/being written soon, this would be a good place to hang out!

ALL COMPLETED AS OF 11/5/2023

IMAGES USED: A black retriever in an extensive mountainous landscape by Maud Earl & L'angelo, la morte e il diavolo by Roberto Ferri || TOTAL: 5

➣The Perfect One

╰┈➤ ❝ [He stares at the rings under the glass with an acute narrowness to his eyes. He inspects every one as if a bomb might go off at any second, not missing a single detail in the metal.] ❞

➣Get In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Coming home with bruises and stitched wounds, you drag him into the bathroom to wash away the memories.] ❞

➣Hum Me A Tune, Blue-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [You listen to his heartbeat as he keeps you to his chest, his breath tickling your hair.] ❞

➣Here Now

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

➣Burst Veins

╰┈➤ ❝ [He never noticed you weren't behind him.] ❞

IMAGES USED:  Fallen Angel by Roberto Ferri & Nature of Fear by Nicola Samori || TOTAL: 5

➣Nervous Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [No one understands how you two get along - not when you're so different. It makes you second-guess yourself. He notices.] ❞

➣Blood Like Obsidian

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

➣Supposed To Happen

╰┈➤ ❝ [You died and left him a child he had no idea existed. How can he even begin to try and understand?] ❞

➣Digging Gaze

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

➣Sole Survivor

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞

IMAGES USED: White and Black by Vadim Gorbatov & Saint Augustine by Philippe de Champaigne || TOTAL: 7

➣Didn't Mean It

╰┈➤ ❝ [Arguments are rare, certainly ones that leave you in tears.] ❞

➣Him, Her, and the Dog

╰┈➤ ❝ [The woes of pining after a woman whose deadly K9 looks like it hates his guts.] ❞

➣Drunken Sappiness

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can't say you've ever had a boyfriend as perfect as Kyle.] ❞

➣How Do You Listen To That?

╰┈➤ ❝ [It was three a.m. when you all got the call to load up, but what's the best way to wake both yourself and the Sergeant up?] ❞

➣Finally Broken

╰┈➤ ❝ [Childhood friends turned lovers. The realization was far more violent and instantaneous than you'd like to admit.] ❞

➣Don't Look At Her

╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞

➣In His Head

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of his SFW and NSFW quirks.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Scene from the Great Flood by Joseph-Désiré Court & Saint Jerome in Prayer by Carlo Dolci || TOTAL: 7

➣Life Snaps By In Flashes

╰┈➤ ❝ [A collection of memories from the second he laid eyes on you. All flashing past in the soft buzzing of the overhead lights.] ❞

➣Heart-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [Being a medic wasn't pretty, but when your boyfriend was the subject under your needle you can't help but enjoy his unwavering gaze. Today, he has something to share with you.] ❞

➣From Ten To Twenty & Beyond

╰┈➤ ❝ [You've known him ever since the incident on the playground, and now you can't help but imagine that same boy as you watch him make supper with flour in his hair.] ❞

➣Find Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're finally back in One-Four-One's hands, but that doesn't mean you're saved. Johnny tracks you down after a violent episode.] ❞

➣Still The Same Fools

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was always a rivalry between you two - that hasn't changed even if both of you have. Years later, the boiling point is finally met.] ❞

➣Is This Why?

╰┈➤ ❝ [He finally sees why you never introduced him to your parents.] ❞

➣Oblivious Pining

╰┈➤ ❝ [Johnny hangs off you like a silent beast. Not that you would notice, of course.] ❞

IMAGES USED: King Gustav III of Sweden and His Brothers by Alexander Roslin & Geography lesson by Eduard Karl Gustav Lebrecht Pistorius || TOTAL: 6

KEEGAN P. RUSS:

➣Paint The Dawn; Paint My Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [In the midst of war and death, there's little time for pleasure. All you had was a ripped-up sketchbook to call your own, its contents littered with the rough face of your comrade.] ❞

➣Hold Her Close

╰┈➤ ❝ [Keegan cares for his young daughter.] ❞

➣When The Fighting Stops & The Silence Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Continuation of (Don't) Go To War: the aftermath of recovery and a budding relationship.] ❞

➣Movies and Stale Popcorn

╰┈➤ ❝ [Oak and Keegan finally get to watch that movie.] ❞

DAVID 'HESH' WALKER:

➣To The Boy of My Childhood

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

➣Keep The Sheets Warm, My Love Is Coming Home

╰┈➤ ❝ [If this wasn't enough to prove that you were the only person for Hesh, you didn't know what did.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Saint Catherine of Alexandria by Caravaggio & Amor Vincit Omnia by Caravaggio || TOTAL: 17

CAPTAIN JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH:

➣New Paint

╰┈➤ ❝ [Fighting to forget you, MacTavish finds comfort in whoever he can. Yet, like the layers of paint on the walls, it always peels back to you.] ❞

➣A Song of Gnashing Teeth

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was never a day where the two of you weren't butting heads - everyone was at their wit's end. Of course, you would both be forced to cooperate at some point.] ❞

➣Listen To My Voice

╰┈➤ ❝ [He orders you to focus on him as the sounds outside the cell get closer. He promises nothing will happen to you. You know he's lying.] ❞

➣Look At The Stars; Look At Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stargazing in the middle of an overgrown and wild glade.] ❞

➣Alive and Breathing

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're sick. Very sick. John takes drastic action.] ❞

➣I Can See It In Your Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [It's finally time to meet the family.] ❞

➣A Green-Eyed Monster

╰┈➤ ❝ [You'd slept together, sure. No strings attached. Then why are you trying to make him jealous? Who cares, the point is that it's working.] ❞

SERGEANT GARY 'ROACH' SANDERSON:

➣Dance With Me Before The Chill Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Tired? Yes, but he's never too tired for you and your loveliness. But maybe you need to remember to lock the door when you're home alone.] ❞

➣Raining Cats and Dogs

╰┈➤ ❝ [Roach has a deep love of storms.] ❞

OPERATION OFFICER ALEX KELLER:

➣Bright-Eyed History Lesson

╰┈➤ ❝ [A librarian with a fascination for war history and a soldier who loves how her eyes light up. Like a dog, he can't stop himself from coming back; smiling like a fool.] ❞

COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS:

➣Hold Me Longer

╰┈➤ ❝ [Mornings spent in the sanctity of warm sunlight and bare skin.] ❞

SERGEANT MAJOR RODOLFO 'RUDY' PARRA:

➣A Love Like Ours Makes Us Strong

╰┈➤ ❝ [Rodolfo came back, alive but bruised. How do you explain how terrified you were?] ❞

COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES:

➣Sleeping On The Porch

╰┈➤ ❝ [As it turns out, your husband never really died. It's safe to say you're not overjoyed.] ❞

➣Love Echoes In Silence

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can feel him watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a small smile. Humming to yourself, you listen to the birds outside the window.] ❞

SEBASTIAN JOSEF KRUEGER:

➣Ain't Giving Up My Pride

╰┈➤ ❝ [You get on his nerves, partially because you want to. But what happens when he finally snaps?] ❞

ALL 141 INCLUDED (SEPARATE):

➣Count The Hours

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of what the One-Four-One do on their down-hours with their Lovers] ❞

➣Wide-Eyed Panic

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

#halcyone updates #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod x female reader #5k celebration #cod masterlist

[strawberrysnoopy]

ACT ONE: The Photo Shoot, part one

prologue

summary of the series: for months, leon has been writhing in his bed dreaming of his friend's wife (you). he's been fighting the desperation for months until that one night you bring up a lingerie shoot you've done for a prestigious brand.

summary of this part: recalling the first time you and leon met, you've realized you've been poorly treated by your husband. leon is no different, in a toxic relationship with his wife, ada wong. as the seeds of resentment have begun to germinate, the desire for you grows like a brush fire nearby.

warnings: MENTIONS OF PUKE, BUT NOT ACTUAL PUKING, leon teaches you how to smoke (i don't wanna see no dumb stupid comments about "oh but leon hates smoking", well leon isn't disloyal but here we are), brief use of (adjective) girl (atta girl, good girl, silly girl), praise, mentions of misogyny (not from Leon ofc), awkward, tense ass convos, a fuckton of desc. and a little description, no sex (yet ;) ), cussing, descriptions of fucking, descriptions of masturbation, semi-public masturbation, almost caught masturbating, slight corruption kink (? if you squint), alcohol consumption, use of tobacco, smoking, implied sexual references, etc.

also a/n, writing this as of feb. 2nd, 2024: 60 notes?!!!!! i was writing this for my own personal pleasure but like...??!?! i got reblogged so many times?! im gagged, tysm you guys!!! making a playlist rn, so excited to release the soundtrack. if you see little random edits, i'm probably obsessing over the fic and trying to make it perfect lol/anticipate changes. i would also like to write I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING! always communicate with your partner, discuss issues, etc. this fic is just a lil’ taboo type of fantasy, do NOT cheat on your partners.

The first time you met Leon was at a grocery store: two weeks before your husband would have any idea of his existence and one week before he had invited Leon and his wife, Ada, over for dinner. You were picking up a bottle of red wine for you and your husband under the guise of wanting something nice for date night. The reality would actually be you were buying it for yourself after your husband decides you're not worth his affections anymore, lazily mosey on over to the spare room, and pull out his phone to text other women. The wine would be something to drink to inebriate you while you watched a shitty re-run of a sitcom from the 90s. Maybe if you got lucky, Golden Girls was on.

He was only browsing, stumbling upon the liquor section and staying to look if there would be anything worthwhile. And there was. It was you. He knew he had to think of something witty, something cool people say, before you left and thought he was some creep staring at you because he saw a smidgen of your breasts in a magazine. "You're a famous model, right?" He asked. Oh, how stupid he felt. He was a chronic overthinker: thinking of every last terrible scenario, a trait he picked up after becoming an agent. This had certainly felt like one of the worst options he picked, especially with how you would-- You interrupted him. "Yeah, that's me." The subtle sweetness, the slight rasp in your voice was better than anything any street drug could offer with the amount of dopamine flooding into his brain: overloading every neuron, synapse, dendrite, and cell membrane in his body.

But for whatever reason, he stretched his hand outwards and lazily grinned towards you. "I'm Leon." "Nice to meet you. Well, I'd say my name but y'know..." He nodded in an awkward agreement before you could even finish your sentence, but not daring to go as far to interrupt you. He felt as if he already started off the conversation with a cumbersome beginning. "Right, right. So, that's your real name? I see a lot of models use stage names n' stuff like that." He adjusts his weight from one foot to the other, switching the hand holding his grocery basket from his right to his left. He felt so...awkward around you. Maybe it was the fact you were a famous model, or maybe it was the fact you were just so calm. The joke causes a soft chuckle to leave your lips and the mere look of a fleeting moment of bliss to cross over your features makes his knees turn into gelatin. Those nerves solidify into stone when the overwhelming sense of guilt hits him like a tidal wave but allows it to wash over him for the sake of continuing the conversation.

"Yeah, just my regular name. I'm not that creative outside of modeling. Usually the photographers do the thinking and the creative processes for me." He chuckled, shaking his head and barely moving himself a little closer. Leon wanted to sink in that gentle, warm, and soft presence you carried around with you. Your aura felt comforting: like a hug after a tough day: it had felt so much more different than his wife. True, Ada could be affectionate but that's usually only after something good has happened to her or Leon was her last resort of attention. He really hated how much he would act like an obedient dog, awaiting her arrival home, coming back to her after she's treated him like dirt. You? You felt so goddamn altruistic and considerate. And he's only known you for three minutes.

You notice he's gone silent and you're silently hoping he thought you were cool. Cool. Like a teenager trying to fit in. You silently cringe at yourself until he smiles at you, almost like he's signaling you to continue the conversation. You can't think of any conversation starters. And you're a model for gods sake. You're usually so outgoing and social with other people but now it's like a cat came by and stole your voice box. Thankfully, he takes over that portion for you. "Buying wine?" He knew it was dry as all hell but he wanted to steer the conversation away from him being a fan of your modeling gigs. No, he just wanted to talk to you and discover what you were like behind the camera. (Okay, and maybe he wanted to see if you'd flirt with him.) "Yup. But I'm just buying wine for..." You paused, about to say 'for me and my husband' but your throat becomes dry whenever you feel like you're about to announce it to him. "...Myself."

He smiles. He likes that you're awkward in real life. The fact made you feel more real, like you weren't just some sexy model with expensive tastes and a bratty attitude. You were a person like anyone else.

"Right. Me too, just uh...just browsing." You nod, fidgeting anxiously with the sleeves of the coat you decided to toss on last minute before leaving the house.

The conversation went on to end when you eventually realized you would be home late. Although you thought that worrying your husband a little would be the thing that reignited the spark in your marriage, you knew that punctuality was a habit you'd like to upkeep. That, and you also knew if you talked to this handsome stranger for longer, you'd cheat on your husband. That night, Leon had fallen asleep to the thought of you for the first time. Soft little visions of pressing his lips against yours, caressing your cheek softly and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, etc, etc, cheesy lovey dovey bullshit. So much more different than the truly filthy thoughts he had about you nowadays. You're torn from your conversation with your friends when you make eye contact with him. You can practically feel his eyes travel from the hair at the highest point on your head to the very last bit of your black, leathery heels with perfect pretty pearls embellished on the pump. For a moment, you feel like you're trapped in some type of horny labyrinth while you stare longingly at him.

He's ripped out of his own longing by the feeling of your husband's hand slapping his back. Ada sat beside Leon with her arm protectively wrapped around his bicep. You felt as if the gesture were a signal to everyone at the party that Leon belonged to her. He was under her control, nobody else's. Or maybe the protective message was for her husband, as if he was an unruly friend to her husband. And you could agree with that. You fell in love with your husband because he was wild and care-free but after the diamond ring was slipped onto your ring finger, you realized he was also carefree in the sense that hurt you: talking to other women behind your back, and leaving for days at a time only to come back inebriated. But you stood by his side, no matter what. You hated how you felt like a doormat but you didn't know what else to do besides stay married and play the role of an oblivious wife while your husband fucks other women in various positions. In a way, you and Leon sat in the same loveless boat. Who knew when that same boat would be shaking from the violence of the both of you fucking, clothing pulled out and to the side instead of being fully taken off. Your thoughts become interrupted by an unmistakably handsome voice.

"Hey."

You feel a hand being placed upon your lower back except it's so much more different than your husband's. The palms were rough, callouses inside the nooks and crannies, and pulsing veins make you all dizzy if you thought about it for too long. His voice was dampened with some undertone of lust, his fingers prodding into the skin of your sides. He's always been a little too handsy for a man that's supposed to happily married. But you always figured touch was how he communicates: touch. But he's never touchy with your husband. Or any of your friends. And he missed you? Sure, your're friends due to the fact your husband was friends with Leon. (Even though you met him first, but I digress.) The simple phrase had your mind reeling, cheeks flushed red due to the hidden intimacy of it all. His wife shoots him a look and his hand immediately retreats back to his side, fighting the urge to palm the engorged erection struggling against the seam of his boxers. "Haven't seen you in so long, hm? Thought you disappeared on me for a minute." He's holding his facade of being totally and irrevocably in love with Ada up and steady. Like he had no feelings for you other than being friends.

"Of course not." You murmur, feeling a hearty chuckle reverberate from his chest. He takes his index finger and his thumb and gently swiping it against your chin.

"Atta girl." And of course, with how hoarse his voice is, your panties are instantly puddled with a thick pool of arousal. You hate his stupid, thick, sexy, and deep voice. You especially hate his voice whenever you imagine him degrading and praising you whenever your husband was away and you just happened to have your hand down your underwear, playing with your clit to ease the throbbing impulses you felt for Leon. He gives your back a single pat before moving back to stand beside his wife. You really hate that you feel jealousy flare like wildfire within you, but you brush it off.

Everyone would eventually be drawn to the several dining tables that were arranged in a group and had golden candlesticks and smooth white tablecloths on top. Once you are seated, you observe that Leon appears to be striving extra hard to guarantee his place beside you. He looks right at you for a brief moment. And only then can you see, just a hint of thirst sprouting in his eyes, before he glances away from you and gives Ada a quick smile while patting her thigh.

It's only a few minutes before Leon decides to break the awkward silence.

"How's that modeling gig going?" You nod, gulping down way too much champagne.

"Good, been going good. Have to admit it gets a little boring posing in front of the camera after a while but can't bite the hand that pays you, right?" You joke, and the table laughs with some sense of jealousy. "Nice to hear. What was your latest shoot?" He asked, leaning forward in a sudden rush of intrigue. Then those words pass your lips. Words he had never anticipated, even in his wildest guess (oddly.)

"A lingerie shoot. For Chanel." The table goes quiet. And everyone, including your dumb-ass husband, look at you. Someone (Ada) clears their throat in the dining room, hinting at you to elaborate and it's almost like you suddenly developed to ability to hear from light years away.

Leon, who had just finally got his goddamn boner under control feels his cock twitch back to life, fully hard instead of a semi this time. And correct him if he's wrong, but he starts to feel pre-cum smearing his dress pants. He's thankful he chose the black slacks instead of his lighter colored ones otherwise this would be downright humiliating.

"Sorry, um...I did an intimates photo-shoot for Chanel a few weeks ago for their new line of clothing." That seems to help lighten the mood a lot more because everyone goes back to their conversation with their respective friends, the embarrassing "confession" from you immediately leaving their minds. "The theme was Overtime. Like, staying later in the office with my shirt unbuttoned and stuff. Nothing that interesting."

The table simultaneously nodded, Leon going as far to excuse himself for a cigarette.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go have a smoke." Leon scoots out from his seat, heading towards the upstairs balcony to take care of business. Asshole, leaving me with his mean ass wife.

You decide to join him outside.

The air had finally gotten too tense, felt too judgmental for your taste. Scampering outside, you're met with the sight of Leon smoking a cigarette outside. That's odd: you've usually pegged him to be the straight-laced, no-nonsense type of man yet here he was, smoking a cigarette while leaning against the balustrade of their friend's top floor home. At the sound of the balcony door opening, he turns his head to see what you're doing out here. His eyes scan you, almost like he would while he's in combat but it's more or less to get another glimpse of the outfit you were wearing tonight. Okay, and maybe he wanted to commit the sight of you to memory.

"You alright?" He asked, trying his best to look straight forward when you step closer and cross your arms over the balustrade.

"M'fine, just needed a minute of fresh air, I think." When you sit beside Leon, there's a few things you notice. The first was his outfit. A white button-up that usually would be covered by his black suit jacket, though he left it behind on his chair in the dining room. There's also mentioning his blacks slacks, fitting his muscular thighs a bit tight but loose enough so they're comfortable. Then there's the dress shoes, ones he wore at his wedding due to how overly formal they looked. Maybe he wanted to get some more use out of them? Who knows.

"What about you? Why are you out here?" You decided to be the one to take the reigns since the air outside had become incredibly awkward as well. "Same. Thought I'd take a minute of fresh air, you know?" The second thing you notice about Leon is how much he calms you. More importantly, how much you never noticed that you were anxious when you were around others. He had this aura of relaxing or maybe you were just buzzed, who knows that either? Maybe it's the cigarette, speaking of...

"I haven't smoked since college. Cigarettes, I mean. Don't think I even know how to do it anymore." The confession makes his head tilt to the side, now taking more of an interest in the conversation than before. He grinned wolfishly, taking your chin in one of his thick and strong hands and pulling your head forward. For a second, you could almost be dumb enough to think he'd be moving in for a kiss. Of course not. You'd never be that lucky. "Open f'me, sweetheart." And like an obedient puppy, you opened your mouth just enough so your pretty pink-shaded lips could be parted. He placed the cigarette on your lip, the moisture making the filter stay in your mouth alongside his index and middle finger holding it up, thumb brushing your chin. Little hazes of grey smoke dance along your tongue without even taking a sip of the smoke yet, your lips trembling with a lustful agony. "Now close your mouth..." He whispered, his damp and hot and horny breath hitting your ear like an affectionate declaration of love. "And inhale."

You close your lips around the cigarette, faintly tasting the flavor of him where he had sucked on the cigarette. You got notes of citrus, rum or some expensive, top-shelf label of whiskey he used to help quell the pain he experienced on grueling missions, tobacco, and maybe even the slightest hint of his wife's lipstick. Chanel's Rogue Allure, if you had to guess correctly. "...Now hold it..."

You held it. "Silly girl." He whispered, pulling the cigarette away from your lips while you slowly exhaled the rest of the smoke you've been holding in your mouth and then some. You can't tell if it's because of the alcohol, Leon's presence, or your mere anxiety but you begin to feel dizzy. Thankfully Leon seems to swoop in with his questions to keep your head in the game. Bless him.

"Why'd you need a minute, huh?"

For a minute there, you didn't know how to respond. Looking down at the leathery pumps you chose for the evening, you begin to wonder why you even chose them instead of answering his question. But you answered him. Eventually.

"I'm just tired. This whole night just seems a bit…” You gesture to the party in the background. “Fake. I don’t want to be here."

He hummed in agreement, but it felt like more of a signal for you to keep going. "I'm also just terrible at making conversation. Especially when it's awkward and silent."

His eyes flicker down to the pumps he'd already stared at tonight, not finding an interest in them anymore than your own body. He tucked his lip between his teeth, pulling the pink flesh away from his mouth before he spoke up again. "You're not that bad, you know? I think you're pretty good. How about this?" He pauses. Then a beat passes.

"Tell me something true. Tell me something you wouldn't brag to anyone about." He moved his cigarette to rest on the balustrade instead of the space between his fingers. "Something that's yours...and only yours."

You look at Leon with wide eyes, mouth agape as you struggle to answer his question. Your eyes rake down his face from the space between his eyebrows to his parted, pink lips: just a little chapped from the cold chill of the night air. You wanted to kiss him. All of those times you've had him over for dinner, all of those times you've spent with your hand down your panties while your husband was away on "business": dreaming of his best friend, Leon, and god, all of those times you thought about throwing caution to the wind and leaning in to press your lips against his: the sum of all of those moments had you quivering for more.

But you'd never cheat. You have a reputation. You have a husband that gifted you the pretty diamond ring on your finger. But how did it always feel so...impossible? Like you couldn't live another day if you weren't able to fuck Leon like a rabid dog in heat. But he was staring at you, almost as if his eyes were laser beams and searing holes into your skin: you had to answer.

"I don't know what I could tell you that's only mine." You chew on your lip. "Huh. How about..."

How about the fact I wanna kiss you? I wish it was you I was in bed with rather than my stupid, cheating husband? The fact you are so much hotter than him?

"I hate being a trophy." And that brings the biggest grin on Leon's face. A massive shit-eating grin. Leon had gone stir crazy. He wanted to peel your entire being open, see all of the nooks and crannies of your soul and devour it whole. But now wasn't the time to scare you away: even if he wanted to fuck you, you were still a friend to him. So he calmed down. "I can't say that's too surprising. I mean, who would? Being able to be pretty and have money being tossed at you is nice until you want something deeper. Then it seems like one of the only things that are scarce in your life."

You nod, letting out a breath of consolation. "That's exactly how I feel. Like my only purpose is to sit still, look pretty, serve my husband, and be a hole when he needs it."

His eyes become downcast, looking down at the garden on the ground level of the restaurant. "I get what you mean." The moment was interrupted by a waiter peeking out on the two of you: head poked outside of the door that lead to the outside area. He pulls his hand away from your soft skin and back to his side, sighing wistfully that tonight wouldn't be the night he gets to act on his desires for you. Damn it all to hell.

"You should head back. I'll be back, yeah?" You nod and within a few seconds, you've returned to your spot at the dinner table. He sighs, hand slipping down to palm at his erection. Fuck. Can't go back like this.

Just resist. You're just another woman. You have a husband, He thinks to himself, I'm married to a lovely woman. I am a faithful husband. The silent mantra he practices on himself works about as well as a band-aid on a bullet hole. Resist. God, but you looked so pretty tonight. That cute jewelry set you wore with your little black dress? Hot. The smoothness of your skin?

Resist.

But he can't stop picturing you on your knees in front of him, sucking on his cock. The sounds your perfect, wet mouth would make. How he'd ease himself down your throat. How you'd whine.

Resist.

Or how about when he could be fucking his cock into your tight, wet, and warm cunt? The tip of his dick kissing your cervix? Or what about the positions he could force your body into? Like having his arm around your throat, bicep curling into your mouth to muffle your moans from his wife hearing? Or how one of his hands would be gripping your hips while he needily plowed into your pussy, while you begged him to let up. Resist.

Resist.

Fuck it.

In the few moments after he's excused himself from you, he's already rushing to the upstairs bathroom of the restaurant: thanking the holy beings above for making it a single stall bathroom for his jerking pleasure. He hastily unbuckles his belt with one hand, other hand impulsively opening Twitter as a first resort to find some fashion fanatic post about the slutty lingerie photo-shoot you did for Chanel. Alas, you're still a bit of an undiscovered goddess in the modeling industry at the moment: so Google is his next best option. He pulls out his half-hard but hardening cock from his jeans before he can even find your photo-shoot and gives it a quick few pumps to ease the throbbing that's starting to build up in his loins. Eventually, he finds it. Thank fucking god because the creativity for his fantasies are beginning to run quite dry. And instantly he's grunting and groaning while he strokes his cock and scrolls through the multiple scandalous photos the photographers took of you.

"Fuck." He winces in pleasurable agony as he stares at quite possibly his favorite photo of you. The photo was in black and white: theme being "Overtime" like you mentioned. The white button up shirt was undone, revealing you had nothing on underneath, and allowed for the side of your perfect breasts to be revealed. If he squinted just a little harder, he could see your puffy nipples threatening to peek out of the shirt. He tried squinting a little harder to see your nipples a little easier. And oh my god. You have piercings?! He almost shot his entire load on the spot. God, he needed to fuck you. And hard. He groans as he feel himself get closer to orgasm. Closer, and closer, until--

"Leon?"

Fuck. It was you. God, of course you're so goddamn sweet, checking up on him to make sure he's okay. He didn't dare stop stroking himself off, especially not when he's got jerk-worthy material of you almost catching him. That's also not mentioning the soft intonations of your almost innocent voice right there. He's trying not to cum too quick, wanting to savor those images for as long as he could but he also realized his wife might start asking some questions and she wouldn't be on the other side of the door if she came upstairs. "F-fuck, yeah?" He responded after much too long of hearing your sweet voice. "Did you need something?" "Are you okay? I just got worried when you left. You've been gone for like..." You check your wristwatch: a classic and dainty Timex from the 80s with a blank band that wrapped around your wrist snugly.

"Fifteen minutes. Do you need water? Ibuprofen?" He shakes his head as if you could see him while he continues to jerk himself off, hand swirling in a sort of cranking motion as he tries to work his cock to orgasm. But his pre-cum isn't coming out fast enough, not as fast as the pumping motions his hand was doing right now, so he spits in his hand before bringing his palm back down to his cock and lathering his dick in spit. You believe him enough to think he might be getting ready to vomit.

"Nah, jus'...ngh, drank too much, I think." Please keep talking, He selfishly thinks to himself. "Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything, just text me?" He nodded, grunting out a thank you while he continues to dream of ruthlessly fucking you until you're embedded into his mattress. He wants you. He needs you. He feels himself get a little closer until he finally releases into his fist. His hot and sticky cum ran down his palm while the waves of post-orgasmic bliss and post-nut clarity simultaneously moved together as one. For a few minutes, he's panting like a rabid dog in heat until his breath eventually stills and he's able to walk downstairs and look his wife in the face while giving her the impression that he definitely didn't just masturbate to his best friend's wife. When he sits down at the table, the first person he makes eye contact with is you. You smile at him, mouthing a "you okay?" because, of course, you're still worried about him being sick. He nods with a grin peeled onto his face. Because he came to the sound of your voice. And you didn't have a fucking clue.

credits: snoopy divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more heart divider by @saradika-graphics

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon smut #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil vendetta #resident evil 4 remake #re4r!leon kennedy x reader #re2r!leon kennedy x reader #death island leon #death island #death island leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leonscottkennedy #leon kennedy x ada wong #leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanart #resident evil x reader #re4 remake #re4 #long reads #leon kennedy fanfic #re2 remake #re2 leon

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 13

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: smut 18+ (but like, not a lot. I settled somewhere in the middle), cursing, emotional stuff and vulnerability, fluff, angst, typos

Words: 3298

The One I Want Masterlist

“I’m thinking cake,” Jake suddenly says as he halts in place. His hand in yours stops you from continuing further into the pastry section of the grocery store. 

You fall in line beside him and scan over the individually packaged slices of vanilla and chocolate and red velvet. 

“Cake?” you ask, running your eyes from his head to his toes and back. “I have to be honest, Jake, you look like you haven’t had a piece of cake in your life.”

He didn’t even have any on his birthday a couple weeks ago and, in your opinion, that says a lot. A birthday, and not one of his friends complained about the lack of dessert to celebrate. Even alone in your cheap as fuck apartment with no furniture and walls tinged yellow from previous tenants’ smoking addictions you had cake on your birthday. One cupcake, one candle, one wish that had an entire three hundred and sixty-five days to come true but never did. 

Actually, maybe the ‘no birthday cake’ thing is smart. Less chance for disappointment.

“I’ve had cake.” He playfully nudges his shoulder into yours. “Not in a while, granted, but it did happen,” he says. “Plus, out of everything here, this will be the least messy in bed.”

‘Just to sleep,’ he had quickly clarified earlier after suggesting you share the same bed. Your mouth was wide open, a forkful of spaghetti frozen in mid-air as he nervously smiled at you from across the restaurant’s table. “I just thought it might be nice, but if you hate the idea we don’t have to.”

You’d teased that if you were going to get in bed with a man you wanted dessert first, but Jake took it rather seriously. And after deciding the restaurant’s creme brulee or sorbet would not travel well, he said, “We’ll have to make a pit stop.”

“I’m good with cake,” you chuckle, picking up a slice. He does the same. 

“Want anything else?”

You snort. “Are you going for a dessert buffet in your bed?”

He smiles and shakes his head. He raises your hand and his lips brush over your knuckles. “I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

You stare at him long enough for his smile to fade and his brow to knit and his head to tilt in question, and it’s so annoyingly endearing you don’t understand how you woke every morning of your life without someone like Jake Seresin. Someone who crafts smiles only for you. Someone who pays attention to your expressions and moods and alters their own in response. Someone who makes your heart want to snap the prison that is your ribcage and break through the wall of your chest so it can go burrow into his. 

“I’m happy with you, Jake,” you say. “The cake is a bonus.”

His smile returns and your whole body swells with pride, because you did that. You salvaged the perfect curve of his lips that spread to reveal a row of perfect teeth. You brought back the delicate wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and the sparkle that glints in the green. 

Jake leans in and presses his lips to yours, gently so as to not embarrass you while the possibility of whispers and glares from fellow shoppers exists. But the kiss doesn’t match the rest of him. You can sense the tension in his body. 

The plastic container holding the cake makes a loud pop under the pressure of his fingers, and you know he’d drop it if he could; make a mess on the floor so that hand could be free to touch you however it wants. 

But Jake thinks about others, and it’s an ‘other’ that would have to clean up his moment of inconsiderate behavior, but thankfully, he is not that brand of asshole. You’ve been that ‘other’ in the past and you don’t care for a reminder of how rude people can be when they only care about themselves, especially not a reminder in the form of Jake. 

“Let’s go,” he whispers against your lips, “before you get me into trouble.”

—

“Well,” you begin as you swallow the last bite and lick the remainder of the frosting off the fork, “It definitely tastes better in bed.” 

Jake chuckles, accepting your empty container and fork so they can join his on his nightstand. “I’m glad there’s another reason for you to want to be in my bed.”

With an arch to your brow, you rest your head against his headboard. “Another reason?”

“Yes,” he says before he holds up three fingers. His left index finger taps his right. “Reason one: I’m pretty sure you like me, or, knowing you, you wouldn’t have agreed to the suggestion. That’s the best reason.” You grin and roll your eyes as he taps his middle finger. “Reason two: cake tastes better in my bed. My bed, not any other guy’s bed so don’t go trying that out.”

Jake’s face lights up with your laugh. “I won't,” you say. “Reason three?”

“Three is sleeping next to each other,” he replies, wiggling his ring finger. “I know we haven’t actually done that yet, but I promise I’ll be a damn good cuddler. You won’t ever want to leave.”

He didn’t have to say that for you to be well aware of it. Jake hasn’t even wrapped his arms around you yet and you’re already wishing to stave off morning so that once you're snuggled against the shape of his body you can stay there for as long as possible.

“Four?” you ask. 

Jake swallows, suddenly misplacing a bit of his confidence, and it doesn't take much for you to figure out why. Most additional, and frankly, obvious, reasons to want to be in his bed lie outside of tested territory. The next logical steps of your relationship have gone undiscussed. 

You know he’s waiting for you. Permitting his hands to touch more of your body recently is not enough for him to make his own moves. No matter how close his fingers come to the zippers of your clothes or your fingers get to the button of his jeans, it's not the flashing green light he needs to take things further. 

But you can’t blame him. His pause is your creation, and while he hasn’t pushed for more, you know he badly he wants it. You want it, too, despite how you’ve acted.

Before, you weren’t sure if being with Jake would take something away from you, some sense of self that you’ve just reclaimed after years of people stealing their portion of you. Because, unlikely as it may sound, nothing is impossible; you’ve been misled more than once, and you couldn’t shake the one-percent chance that Jake would steal his portion, too. 

But that was the invasion of your still damaged—but healing—mind. That was prior to him spilling his emotions so you could see for yourself how you make him feel. When you listen to your heart, the thought that Jake would leave you feeling hollow or lost or discarded after being with him becomes so unbelievable, so weightless and unformed, you couldn’t speak it aloud if you tried. In no life, world, universe, or alternate existence would Jake do that to you. Of that, you are positive.

“I’m still working on four,” he says. 

Reaching over, you uncurl his pinky so it’s extended alongside the other three. Your thumb rubs slowly up and down the inside of that finger. 

“Four is easy,” you tell him.

“Easy?” His eyes follow your body as you sit up and straddle him. 

Palms land on your thighs and slide up, over your cotton shorts and hips, and under your shirt. His thumbs stroke the soft flesh of your navel as you rest your hands on the curves where his neck meets his shoulders. Your lips seal to his, and you kiss each other like you always do. Like he’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Like you’re a drug he can't get enough of. 

You start to shift your hips, grinding downward, and though you get the pleasure of hearing his grunt, you know it’s not enough for him to understand that you want more, so you do it again. And again. And again, until his fingers are digging into your skin and he’s pulling you down harder against him with each of your motions. 

But then, as if dunked in a bucket of ice water, he freezes. His lips are gone and he’s gripping you tight enough to stop you.

“Where are you going with this, beautiful?” he asks through heavy breaths, and you smile at how willing he is to sacrifice so much oxygen just to kiss you. 

Leaning back, you slip your hand through the space between your bodies. Your fingers lightly trace along the band of his sweatpants before dipping behind the soft material and wrapping around him. His whole body jerks. Any words he might have said next lose to the gasp that leaves his mouth. 

“Reason four,” you whisper, pulling him free. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, falling back and letting the headboard support his weight.

You pump your hand once, twice, then shimmy down the mattress until your breath is ghosting over the hardness in your hand. 

“H-Hey, whoa, wait, wait,” he rushes out, hand clasping your wrist. “Beautiful, this is not why I asked if you wanted to sleep in my bed. I don’t need anything like this to make being with you worth it for me, you know that, right?” 

“Do you want me to stop?”

Your thumb runs over his tip and his eyes screw shut. “Just tell me you know that.” When they open again, they’re full of desperation. “Please.”

“I know that,” you say with a nod and a reassuring smile. “But what if I want to do this? Even if I want it, do you want me to stop?”

“You can’t ask me that question when you’re looking at me like that.”

“Jake, do you want me to stop?” you ask once more, punctuating each word with a slight pause.

A bulge forms in his throat as he gulps. When he shakes his head, you close your mouth around him. 

The whimper you pull from him is immediately added to the list of things you love about Jake Seresin—a sound so unexpected that a rush of excitement shoots through you, straight to your core, and all you want is to hear it on repeat until it’s seared into your mind. You take him in deep, deeper with every bob of your head, and when he nudges the back of your throat, his thighs tense, his hand flies to the back of your head, and his hips involuntarily buck upwards. 

The resulting choking noise sobers him. 

“Oh my god,” he sputters, removing his hand as if burned. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” He cuts himself off with a moan as you suck hard on his tip and flick your tongue along its underside before releasing him.

Guilt is splashed across his features when your eyes meet his, but it eases when you grin and grab his hand, pulling it to your face so he’s cupping your cheek. Leaning into his palm, Jake expels a held-in breath and his face softens at knowing he didn’t hurt you. His thumb slides over your cheekbone. He smiles.

“Can I be inside you?” he asks.

Jake’s touch doesn’t fall from your face as you crawl up his body. His stare doesn’t break. When you’re close, his fingers weave into your hair and he guides you into his kiss. 

“Is this a yes?” he whispers. 

You sit up in front of him, your knees on either side of his legs. 

“Yes” is a half-second off your tongue and Jake is tucking his thumbs into the waist of your sleep shorts, slowly pushing them over your ass and down your thighs. Those green eyes drink you in, and while your skin flushes under the intensity of his gaze, you feel him filling you with confidence. 

The fact that he bothers to look at you at all makes you want to give him everything. No other man took the time to really look at you—to appreciate you. It was whip-quick criticisms before dull, drunken, lazy, uninspired, over-before-it-even-started sex where they were closing their eyes from either an inability to keep them open or to imagine someone else in place of you. But Jake practically absorbs every inch of you that he can see.

Rough fingertips graze through your folds. His thumb rolls over the sensitive little bud and your body shudders, chasing after his hand even as he pulls it away to examine the slickness now coating his fingers. 

“Fuck,” is almost inaudible from his lips. “You’re gonna ruin me,” you think you hear him say, but it’s drowned out by the pounding pulse in your ears.

You don’t stop to dwell on what you think you might’ve heard and instead reach for the hem of your t-shirt to pull it over your head. Jake blinks, glances up at you, and then everything descends into a flurry of hurried movements as you discard your shorts and Jake yanks his shirt over his head, reaches into the bedside drawer for a condom, tears the packet open, and rolls it down his length. His sweatpants are pushed farther down his legs, then with his hands gripping your thighs just below your ass, he pulls you to him, spreads you open, and guides you down until you’re seated on top of him and his entire cock is fit snugly inside of you. 

The air is punched out of your lungs as your walls welcome and flutter around him. Your words are half-formed curses and mutterings of pleasure as Jake groans and wraps his arms around you, hugging you to his body. 

His forehead falls against your chest. “You have no idea…” he says through a weak breath, “no idea how much I've–”

“Yes, I do,” you whisper to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You're not the only one who has wanted this.”

Jake nods. He plants a gentle kiss on the smooth swell of each of your breasts. Then, at an agonizingly slow pace, you lift your hips and sink back down onto him. Supported by Jake’s strength, you lift and sink and lift and sink, feeling every ridge and every curve of every vein of his cock as he slides in and out of you. 

He’s so different and so good and you’re so satisfied to know that you were right. Jake Seresin will never leave you feeling lost. But he does allow you to lose yourself, to let go, to be free and safe in the company of his kisses and moans and touch. He allows you to be you—the you that is happy and cared for. The you that is loved.

—

It’s not often that you are a heavy sleeper, but Jake dragged you into a blissful peace so welcoming and comfortable that for the first night in a long time, you went undisturbed. That peace made it through the night, into the early hours of morning, and remained as sunlight trickled through the curtains to wake you.

Your eyelids flutter open and you glance to where Jake’s arm is draped over your waist. As you flip over, his brow pinches and that arm tucks you back into him so your chest is to his. You think he’s about to join you in waking, but when his unconscious is satisfied with the new positioning of your bodies, his barely-there snores resume. Chuckling, you press your lips to his in a quick kiss that smoothes the crease between his brows. 

He’s so beautiful like this. Mouth parted, hair touseled, muscles relaxed, with eyelashes resting on his cheeks. They’re much longer than you realized. The tips are blond and against his tanned skin, they’re almost luminescent. You want to run your finger over them, but that will force him awake, and he looks far from ready to rise for the day, so you don’t.

You consider getting out of bed; an idea quickly washed away when you weigh how cozy and warm Jake is compared to the rest of the room. Not to mention, you can’t say for sure exactly where your clothes are other than that they are definitely somewhere in Jake’s room. Those combined, you refuse to move, and not moving leads your eyes to close, which leads you back into that peaceful sleep. 

—

It’s hours later when you stir. You notice your clothes are folded by your feet and you look beside you to find Jake missing. But you hear his voice—his and another’s. 

Tossing the comforter off your legs, you dress and tiptoe your way to Jake’s door. The sliver of space between the door and its frame is not wide enough for you to see anything other than the framed pictures on the living room wall, but it doesn’t inhibit your ability to pick up the conversation you can tell is coming from the kitchen. 

“You haven’t told her?” you hear in Millie’s sweet, southern tone. “I can’t keep up with you two.”

“I was going to tell her at dinner,” Jake defends, “but things were good and she was happy. And I was going to try again once we got back here but I pictured the look on her face when she cries and it kills me, Millie.”

Your throat suddenly feels swollen and you struggle to swallow as you press yourself as close to the opening in the doorway as possible. 

“Honey, I know you don’t wanna hurt her, but there’s no way around this,” Millie says.

“I know.” He sighs heavily. “Can you do me a favor, though? Can you watch out for her?”

“Of course, but Jake, she can handle herself.”

“I know she can. She’s better at that than most people will ever be,” he tells her. “But you wouldn’t be doing this for her, you’d be doing it for me. I can’t stand the thought of her feeling alone,” he says. “I can’t take that with me.”

“She won’t be alone,” your friend says, but Jake doesn’t respond. “Jake, I promise.”

You can’t see what he does; if he nods, if he smiles, if he mouths a silent ‘thank you’. They’re both quiet, so you’re quieter. 

In their silence, you try to process the words you’ve heard, but Millie’s sweet voice interrupts your racing thoughts. 

“You boys need to be careful and bring each other home,” she tells Jake. “Your ladies are gonna be waitin’ on you.”

“Assuming mine won’t hate me for not telling her the minute I knew about it.”

“You only found out yesterday,” Millie says. “It’s not easy. Bradley hates tellin’ me, too…this time especially.”

You don’t if they say more because, once again, Jake has your pulse going so strong and fast that it’s pounding in your ears, but now for an entirely different reason than last night. Your heart plummets into your stomach and you inch away from the door until the back of your knees hit the mattress, forcing you to sit. As stiffness settles into your limbs, your spine goes limp as a noodle and you’re sure your posture shows it, but you don’t have it in you to stretch out your arms and legs or strengthen your back. You’re a dead weight on the bed. Dead and damp from the tear that leaked down your cheek onto your thigh. 

It’s the first tear of what you know will be many more to come. 

Because soon, Jake will be leaving.

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @hookslove1592 @alwaysclassyeagle

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