#maybe i should pick up the pencil again sometime

[justplaggin]

well he certainly seems pleased

#guess what i found the other day. in a notebook from TWO years ago no less #my single presentable drawing of the birthday boy :D #hbd random fancy hat guy who definitely hasn't changed my life #bungou stray dogs #bsd #chuuya #bsd art #my art #art tag time i guess? welp #art is. hard #<- person who spent their entire childhood drawing cats has a hard time understanding the how to's of drawing hoomans #maybe i should pick up the pencil again sometime

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You can’t remember the last time you had the house to yourself. Even if your mother’s just next door, it feels a little lighter around there. And you’re happy for her. Maybe having Steve around will be good. He can be an outlet so she doesn’t have to put all her frustrations on you. 

She was happy when she left, even excited. That’s another rarity in your life. 

You start your day off with a tea. The apple cinnamon bags are a bit old so you use two. You bring the cup into your room and get your table set up with your pencils and sketchbook. You open the window to let in the sunlight, the natural light much brighter than the yellowed bulb above. 

You know your mom would tell you to do something more useful than just scribble in your sketchbook. You got the dishes done last night. Steve offered to help but you deflected as you foresaw your mom’s disapproval. You can’t let company pick up your slack. 

You try to wipe away the anxiety of last night. It’s over now. You shouldn’t have worry very much about it again. 

You finish your tea. It’s cold by the time you get to the dregs. You sit back to look over your sketch. Your eyes feel a bit fuzzy from hyperfocusing on that one stamen. You rub your brow and yawn. The sun shifts and you look over at the old alarm clock on your nightstand. It’s close to noon. 

Something else catches your eye. You look up at the window across from yours. The curtain ripples around the gap before it’s pulled open from inside. Steve stands on the other side of the pane. Can he see you? 

You can’t tell as he turns away without acknowledgement. The glare of the sun should hide your room well enough. You never really thought of it as your blinds are closed more often than not. 

You get up to rinse out your cup. You stretch your legs as you pace in the kitchen. You’re restless. You’re so used to your mom and her demands and expectations, that having your own time feels aimless. 

You could surprise your mother with dinner. Have it in the oven when she comes home. It’s still early but you can make something more than boxed macaroni. It will be a good cushion to fall back on when you remind her about tomorrow’s appointment. 

🏠

When your mother returns, you can see the fatigue around her eyes. For as little as she goes out, you’re not surprised. What strikes you, is how happy she is. You help her to her recliner and she sighs as she leans back. 

“Such a nice man,” she keeps repeating.  

You smile and let her regale you with a recounting of her day. Still, you can’t help but wait for the pendulum to swing back to normal. She leans her head in her hand, her eyes distant. 

“I swear, the universe sent him to me,” she says, “it had to. It was how much I need someone.” She drops her hand and traces her finger around the armrest, “sick, got a lazy daughter, stuck in this damn house...” 

There it is. You frown. You mash your hands together and waver. 

“I made dinner,” you offer. 

“I don’t want KD,” she snips. 

“I made... I made shepherd’s pie,” you offer meekly, “should be almost done.” 

“Hm, wondered what that stench was.” 

You frown. “I can put it in the fridge for tomorrow. Be good to have something we can just heat up after the doctor’s.” 

“Doctor?” She grumbles, “eh... I forgot.” 

She slumps and her eyes dull. You can’t help the pang in your chest. Sometimes you wish it was you who was sick. It feels like you deserve it more than her. 

“Hopefully it’s good. If you can get the surgery--” 

“Surgery!? Surgery. You keep going on about the damn thing,” she barks. “They can’t fix me, girl, get that through your head.” 

“I know, mom, but they can help--” 

“Like you help me? Crittering around here like a rat!” She hits the armrest violently, “would ya leave me be?” She closes her eyes and turns her face away, deflating once more, “ruined a good day...” 

You sniffle and slowly turn on your heel. You should have known better. You should have just left her alone. As much as she rants about you staying in your room, she prefers you there. Out of sight, out of mind. 

🏠

The next day, your mother doesn’t say much. Her silence is just a bitter as her words. You don’t push it. She gets in the car without argument and you set off into town. Even if she says it’s a waste of time, she listens intently to the doctor and answers all his questions. It’s only when she has to go through the tests that she shows her agitation. 

After some hours spent at the specialist clinic, you’re free to go. Your mom is just as quiet. You feel her mood roiling in the air. Her hand is shaking to the point that she’s hissing at it. 

You steer down to the corner and linger at the stop sign. 

“Mom,” you squeak, “you want some orange julius? A treat for the way home?” 

“Don’t talk to me like a damn child,” she snarls. “Let’s just go. I’m tired. Got no blood left in me.” 

You nod and bite your tongue. Maybe you can just put her to bed. Her naps are a respite, though you find yourself anxious in the silence, terrified of waking her prematurely.  

As you pull onto the suburban avenue, you slow and approach your drive. You pull in and shut off the engine. You get out and go around to help your mom. You open her door and she hauls herself out, tisking under her breath. 

“Didn’t see him,” she mutters. 

“Good afternoon,” Steve’s voice answers your question before you can ask. You look over the hood as he waves from his porch, “busy day?” 

Your mother steels herself and forces a smile, “just went to the doctors.” 

“Oh, everything okay?” He asks. 

“Sure,” she chimes, “just some tests. Nothing serious.” 

“Good to hear,” he stands behind the porch railing, arches crossed, “day’s not over yet. Still lots of time to enjoy the sun.” 

“Mhmm,” you mom grabs onto your wrist, shaking you as leans into you. “Nice day out.” 

“I was gonna do up a milkshake, if you ladies wanted to join me I got plenty to go around.” 

“Milkshakes?” Your mother considers, “mm, I’d have to change out of these.” She looks down, “smell like a hospital.” 

“Sure, take your time,” Steve says, “how about you, honey? I got strawberry. You seem like a strawberry type.” 

“Eh, she’s more a vanilla type,” your other cackles. “Plain.” 

“Got that too,” Steve ignores the joke. “I understand if you’re tired out though. Don’t wanna be too desperate over here, just wouldn’t mind the company.” 

“I’ll be over soon,” your mom assures him, “she’s got some laundry to do.” 

She keeps hold of you and points you towards the house. You help her inside, even though she does her best to hid how she clings to you. Her steps are uneven and stunted. You get through the front door and help her sit on the chair you keep by the door, just in case. 

“Goddamnit,” she’s shaking pretty bad. “Help me, you dumb girl.” 

“I... I don’t...” 

“Get my goddamn inhaler. I forgot it this morning.” 

“Oh, uh, okay.” 

You hurry down the hall and to bathroom. It isn’t in the cabinet. You go back out and scan the table. Not their either. You find it next to her recliner. You wish she’d keep it one place. You go back to her and hand it over. 

“I’m gonna go over,” she says before she huffs from the canister, “you’re gonna stay here. Out of my way.” 

“Alright,” you agree. You prefer that anyway. 

She takes a minute before she gets up. She shooes you away and you retreat to your bedroom. You sit on your bed and wring your hands, waiting as you listen to her. She doesn’t say goodbye before she leaves. Only the front door slamming lets you know she’s gone. 

You exhale and pull the fold out table up to the edge of the bed. You open your sketchbook and stare at the pencil. You don’t feel like drawing but you have nothing else to do. You just sit, looking at the amaryllis. You can pick out every flaw in your work. You close the cover and frown. 

A knock startles you and you stand up. Oh gosh, it’s probably Marge. What is it now? Is the siding too stained? Are the steps crooked? You get up and shuffles down the hall. You open the front door, hiding behind it as you poke your head around. 

Steve has the screen door propped open against his elbow. He holds a tall glass filled with pink, “here. Figured I’d bring this over.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you accept the condensating glass, a wide straw poking out of the whipped cream topped drink. 

“Maybe next time you can pop over too,” he suggests, “I’ve been working on getting the pool going...” he grins, “it’ll be a good summer for it.” 

You nod and look down at the milkshake. 

“Really nice of you,” you say. 

“It’s nothing, sweetie,” he puts his hand on the door above him, looking down at you, “enjoy.” 

“Uh,” you look at him then at the straw. You don’t want to be rude. You put your lips around the tip and take a sip. “Mm, yup, good. Thank you.” 

His blue eyes stick to you and he drags his hand down the door, “I’ll make a deal. You come over to see the pool when it’s ready, and I’ll make you another. How about that, sweetie?” 

You push your lips out. It’s not nice to say no. He didn’t have to bring you the milkshake or invite you. You shrug. 

“Okay,” you agree, “erm, thanks again.” 

He nods and taps the door frame before he steps back. He gently closes the screen door and you watch him through. He turns and strides down the stairs. You shiver as the cold glass numbs your fingers. Hopefully, he forgets about the pool thing. You don't even have a suit.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #au #silverfox au #the girl next door #mcu #marvel #captain america

[kichiyosh1]

What gives you the right to ignore me?!

Modern au! Scaramouche x reader

w:// this takes place somewhere from grade school to high school, and valentines day will be mentioned later on

When he tells himself that you aren't worth his time, but then starts hoping you don't think the same for him.

(it gets good the more you read it, I swear)

Scara being transferred seats for the 5th time this month because he keeps on picking on his former seat mates because he thinks of them as 'lowly worms'. Oh well, at least he should have some new form of entertainment now that he's seated next to— whatever your name was.

Not even a proper greeting was spoken when all he did was tap your shoulder. "and your name?", he has no need for such pleasantries anyways.

Sure he'd make fun of you later then go back to minding his own business the second after, but he at least would want to put a name to this person which he'd be stuck with for the whole school year(if he were lucky enough not to transfer seats the next few days later)

It took you a while to reply to him, eyes stuck scanning the pages of your book, then you gave him a small glance, and reply before going back to reading. "It's y/n", he's offended by how short of an answer you gave in return, but it's not like he asked for anything else other than your name, but the way you said it with such disinterest makes a shiver run down his back.

"Well? You should feel honoured that i have graced you with my presence. Don't get used to it though, don't think so highly of yourself just beca-","Didn't miss Kusanali transfer you here because you were misbehaving like a total brat? You act all high and mighty yourself when you can't even remember the name of your classmate that you've been in the same class with for awhile now." No ones ever stood up to him like that before, heck, you've completely gotten him off his high horse and all he can do is burn his stare at the side of your face, because despite all that, you STILL aren't looking in his direction.

He's not gonna waste anymore words with you. You're not worth his time anyways. Just another worm in the mud for him to stomp on, but for now he'll allow you to wiggle around in the comforts of soft soil, until it hardens and you have no choice but to dry up and die. Quite the poet he was, if not for his foul mouth and scheming mind.

He made it his personal mission to just ignore you. The only times where he's begrudgingly acknowledging you exist is when he's paired up with you by the teacher or when he REALLY has no choice but to confront you about something.

This would have came off as satisfying to him, the natural reaction of a person in his presence would be them wanting him to notice them, but you did not give an f, any f, at f'ing all.

He would hate to admit it, but he sometimes felt comfort in the silence you two shared, as there are also times where you would acknowledge he exists, like when he'd grumble about his broken pencil tip and you'd pass him a sharpener, or when he's about to fall asleep in class and you'd gently nudge him awake, but what irritates him is that you do all these little things while not even looking at him.

He didn't understand why he was getting frustrated. This is what he wanted, right? He got it, but it didn't feel as fulfilling as he first thought it would. Was he admitting that he wasn't quite fond of this mutual silent treatment? That maybe he'd prefer if you talked to him more, interacted with him more, hung out with him more?

"Like I'd admit to that!" it was after he suddenly blurted that out while standing and slamming his hands down on the table, that he realized the whole class was looking at him, giving him weird looks. A few laughs and chuckles were surfing throughout the room, but his attention wasn't on any of those pesks annoying voices. Once again, you weren't looking at him, but the small giggle that left your mouth had him staring at you in awe. "You look pretty when you smile", those words were lodged in his throat, and he'd rather choke then have those words spoken out for you to hear.

You're so annoying! would it kill for you to at least look at him when laughing at his misery? At this point he might as well admit he'll accept anything you're willing to give him, but it's not enough. He was never one to settle for less, so why now was he acting so shy. Might as well throw what he's thinking straight at your face, while twisting his words just a tiny bit, to save what little pride he had left.

____

"What gives you the right to ignore me, huh?!" "What law would I be breaking for 'minding my own business'?" You're insufferable, you really are, you must be so out of sync with your brain to have forgotten it was valentines day today, and he's so mad he doesn't know how he's supposed to give you the box he's been hiding behind his back, so in the end he never does. He hadn't realized he was storming out of the empty classroom (save for you two there) when he bumped into his homeroom teacher. She had no time to react when Scara was already shoving the box into her arms. "Eat it, give it to someone, throw it away, I don't care! To think I had my mom help me make those for that- that idiot! A waste of time!" he was already far off, still shouting his complaints, leaving a confused Kusanali standing in the hallway.

He wanted to cry, a part of him never wanted to see you again, but he already had the bare minimum of what he could get from you, what more if he wasn't there to catch a glimpse of your rare moments? Oh, and would you look at that, he's already at school earlier than what he's used to but he's doing this all for the sake of not having to awkwardly have to sit down next to you.

The classroom was already half filled when he heard the scraping of the chair next to him. He had his head in his arms, only allowing a small gap for him to take a peek at what you were doing. To no one's surprise, you were already taking out that same book, the one you were reading on your guys' first ever interaction. It was like he was back to square one, an ongoing routine of silence if not then it would be his one sided bickering. Too bad he wasn't feeling it today, but unfortunately, or fortunately for him, it was you who made the first move to speak.

"Hey"

Scared the sleep right out of him, his back straightened and staring into your— eyes? you? him? eye contact? when? eh? one look was all he took and suddenly he forgot how to blink. Presented to him at the palm of your hands was the same box he so carelessly gave to his homeroom teacher. "How did that end up in your hands?","Mrs. Kusanali gave it to me right before I left the school, but from what it says here, you are sender."

He took ahold of the box, and pasted right at its side is a small card that had 'To: y/n♥︎' and 'From: Scaramouche♡' written on it, alongside a very cringy love quote that almost made him want to gag.

"That wench!" He didn't even realize that card was on the side of the box, and from the hand writing alone he could already tell it was from Ei. His face scrunched up further once noticing the heart at the end of your names, even just that was enough for scara to look away out of embarrassment. "N-Not that I care if you liked them or not, but just know that I am NOT responsible for whatever THAT is."

The silence after that was just eating up at him. How did it go from denying you exist to having him here. He was holding onto the box too tight with trembling hands, it slowly crumpling just a tad bit his grip softening when your hands took place on both sides of his. "I think it's cute."

You had such a neutral expression on your face, but unlike before, your voice flowed smoother than any melody he's ever heard. "And thank you. Sorry I didn't get you anything, to make up for it, I'm letting you decide where we'll work for our next project."

____

He still couldn't believe you were actually talking to him and holding eye contact as well, he sometimes forgets you're human and not some unreachable deity.

He really couldn't take his eyes off you, and wanting to answer to a past question of yours, yes, ignoring him was most certainly a crime, if he wasn't able to spend these moments with you, it would be criminal.

"Hey, don't go ignoring me at my own house will you? or do you plan to just leave me there to finish the whole project without you?"

" I doubt you can, with you stealing glances my way for the majority of the time you'll be spending. What? think I didn't notice? peripheral vision exists you know."

"Like there's anything worth looking at you for."

"..."

"You did not just start—"

#kunikuzushi #genshin impact x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #wanderer

[munson-blurbs]

You know how eddie mentioned he’s got Playboys? maybe bookworm!reader does for Eddie what he did for her and figures out his favorite picture and recreates it so they can role play again?

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), semi-public sex, oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up folx), use of pet names, daddy kink

WC: 2.1k

--

Sitting cross-legged on Eddie’s bed, you should be doing some work for your courses. The Thanksgiving break means that you don’t have classes for the week, but your professors certainly didn’t hold back on their assignments. And you’d had every intention of starting on them, but when you’d dropped your pencil and went searching for it under the bed, you found something a lot more interesting than computing z-scores and making statistical inferences.

That’s how you find yourself flipping through your boyfriend’s stack of Playboy magazines, eyes widening with each page turn. Photo after photo of women scantily clad in lingerie—and sometimes nothing at all—stare back at you. 

At first, you don’t notice a pattern among the pictures that Eddie has dog-eared; blondes, brunettes, redheads, curvy, thin, tall, short—they’re all there. No, the models couldn’t be any more different, but they do have something in common. It was almost cliché: your mechanic boyfriend jerking off to women sexily posed next to a car. Of course. 

You take note of one particularly well-used page, slightly warped and wavy, stuck to the page in front of it. The Playboy Bunny in the photo is wearing the tiniest denim shorts you’ve ever seen. Her bra barely contains her breasts, and she’s looking into the camera like she’s been caught doing something bad. Her cherry-red lips match the convertible she’s straddling. 

So this is what Eddie’s into, you think. The two of you have been exploring different kinks ever since your library escapades, but you hadn’t thought to surprise him at work. 

When he gets home an hour later, covered in motor oil with his long curly hair pulled back into a bun at the nap of his neck, you’re trying to figure out how you can pull off your plan. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmurs, bringing his hands to your cheeks and kissing you tenderly. “Wayne let you in?”

“Mhm,” you nod, holding up your notebook. “Figured I could get some work done before our movie night.”

Eddie grins. “My genius bookworm girlfriend,” he teases, smacking another kiss on your lips. “C’mon, you deserve a break. You can pick the movie tonight. Maybe I’ll even throw in a foot massage.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Either you want sex or you’re feeling guilty about something. Or both,” you add wryly, making him laugh. 

“Y’got me,” he mumbles, taking your hands in his and lacing your fingers together. “Tim asked me to close tomorrow, somethin’ about wanting to get a headstart on the Thanksgiving traffic, and I felt weird saying no…being the new guy and all…” He looks up at you sheepishly. “Wanted to spend as much time with you as I can before you go back to school.”

Your heart melts at his admission. “Eds, don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, standing up and looping your arms around his neck. “Gotta make money so we can get our own place next year, yeah?”

That seems to relieve him of any remorse, and he peppers kisses all over your face. But you have an ulterior motive; if he’s closing by himself tomorrow, that’ll give you an opportunity to surprise him.

You spend the next afternoon combing through your closet, tossing aside the fuzzy sweaters that lay on top. Finally, you settle on a cropped white shirt that barely covers your sheer lace bra. Your thong matches your bra, one of the few matching sets you have. The pièce de résistance are your denim cutoffs, shoved to the back of your drawer during the colder months. They’re not as short as the model’s–you don’t own anything like that–but they’re close enough. You slide on your favorite black kitten heels, swipe on some red lipstick, and check yourself out in the mirror; not too bad, if you say so yourself. Hopefully Eddie feels the same way.

At 5:30, you’re throwing on your longest coat and rushing out to your car. The shop closed at five o’clock, and you’ll get there around six, just to ensure that everyone else has left. Are you actually doing this? Are you seriously walking into your boyfriend’s place of work, half-naked, with the intention of re-creating a photo from a nudie mag? What if he laughs, or thinks you look silly? Was this all a mistake?

You swallow your fears as you approach the garage, heels click-clacking along the pavement. You immediately spot Eddie; rather, you spot his legs, since the rest of him is under a black Cadillac. Shedding the coat as inconspicuous as you can, you make your way over to where he’s meticulously working. 

“Hey, handsome,” you nudge his foot with your exposed toe. “Got some time for your favorite customer?”

“Baby?” Eddie’s confused voice rings out from under the car. “Did I forget my dinner at home?”

You giggle. “No, but I did bring something I know you’ll want to devour.” You press one palm against the hood of the car. “Care to take a look?”

Intrigued, Eddie slides out. The wrench in his hand drops to the ground with a clang as he takes in the sight before him. “Ho…ly…shit,” he breathes. “You look…you’re…holy shit.” His brain practically short-circuits as he drinks you in, a grin spreading across his face. “Can I touch you?”

“Please.” No sooner does the word leave your lips is he running his calloused hands along your bare torso, leaving black grease stains in his trail. You press up against him, feeling his hard length straining against his coveralls. “Already so worked up?” you lightly tease, grazing his clothed cock with your pointer finger. 

He nods, tugging you closer so he can kiss your neck. “Got my hot girlfriend showing up at my job, dressed like—”

“Your favorite Playboy Bunny?” you interrupt, watching his cheeks flush pink. “Relax, Eds. You found out my kinks from Fast Ride; it’s only fair that I find out yours from your, um, reading material.” One of his curls has come loose from the hair tie, and you wrap it around your finger. “Now, what did you always dream about doing to her?”

“Not her,” he shakes his head, voice so low it’s almost a growl. “You. Always pictured you.” He looks around for a remote to close the garage door. “Get on the hood,” he murmurs, grabbing a rag and wiping the grease off of his hands. His eyes never leave you as you sit on top of the car, feet resting on the front bumper. He leans over you, resting his hands on either side of your body. He kisses you hungrily, fingers flying over you like he can’t determine where to touch first. “Fuck, I gotta taste you,” he mumbles into your lips, fumbling with the button on your shorts. “Bet you taste so damn good. My pretty girl, so sweet f’me.” He brings your legs to his shoulders, taking in the most beautiful view he’s ever seen.

Eddie crouches between your thighs, pressing kisses against your lace-covered cunt. “You’re dripping wet, baby,” he moans. “Bet you don’t even need me to touch you.”

“No, I do. I n-need you,” you whimper. You hear him groan, growing even harder as you beg for him. The cool air hits your bare sex as he tears off your panties, diving in to eat you out. You feel his tongue lick a stripe up your folds, and you squirm at the sensation.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, not moving from his position, “be a good girl an’ stay right there.”

“What if I wanna be bad?” you coo, and you hear him groan as his fingertips dig harder into the plush of your thighs. “Good girls don’t walk around wearing next to nothing at their boyfriend’s job; not when anyone could walk in and see them.”

Eddie’s only response is to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking it harshly. One thick finger makes small circles around your weeping hole before he pushes it in. He curls it slightly, grazing your sweet spot with each little thrust. A mix of his spit and your slick drips down the curve of your ass, and he laps it up like he just can’t get enough.

“Daddy, please,” you cry out, using his favorite nickname as you lace your fingers through his hair, “‘m gonna come. Don’t stop.” He hums his approval, sending that final buzzing sensation through your core and bringing you to your orgasm. “Fuck, I’m coming. Yes, yes, fuck yes!” 

Eddie grins as your legs tremble around his head, and he knows he’s done something very right. He gently lowers them back down and helps you sit up, shucking off his coveralls and his boxers in one go. His cock springs to attention, and you start salivating at the way his pre-cum pearls at the tip. You guide him to the passenger side door and press him up against it, kissing down his neck and wrapping a hand around his girth. “Y’like that, Daddy?” you coo, giggling as Eddie lets out a pathetic uh-huh.

You get down on your knees, ignoring the cold asphalt underneath you. One hand cupping his balls and the other pumping the base of his shaft, you bring your lips to his tip and swirl your tongue around the circumference. You work your way down to the thatch of curls, trying to match the rhythm he’s setting as he moves his hips into it. 

“Look up at me, sweetheart,” Eddie croons. “Want to see those beautiful eyes while I fuck your face, yeah?”

You do as you’re told, though your vision is hazy as his thrusts test your gag reflex. His fists clench and you feel him twitch inside your mouth, and he reluctantly pulls back. Your lips pop as the tip passes them, and you pout. “Not good enough for you, Daddy?”

Eddie shakes his head and gives a terse chuckle. “Too good, princess,” he grunts. “Need to be inside that tight little pussy before I blow my load.” He reaches down to help you up, kissing you deeply. You can taste yourselves on the other’s lips, and it takes all of your willpower to break away.

“Bend over,” Eddie orders, and you lean your elbows on the hood of the car. He positions himself behind you, smacking your ass with his hard cock before dragging it through your slick folds. “Oh, baby,” he sighs, pushing himself into you, “y’always take me so good. My sexy little vixen.”

You whine as he grabs onto your hips, starting off slow and quickly picking up his pace. He nearly pulls all the way out before slamming back in, making you scream out his name. “Thas’ right, tell everyone who’s fucking you like this.” You feel one hand leave your waist, and you know exactly what’s about to happen.

“Y’know,” Eddie begins. He brings his palm to the fat of your ass and spanks it, “when we first met, I thought you were this goody two-shoes.” Another smack to your ass as he fucks you. “And then I found that book in your locker, and we–smack–fucked in the library. Knew you were dirty then, but goddamn.” He breathes out, trying to adjust his grip. “You’re so…fucking…perfect…” He rolls his hips, eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“Faster, Daddy; ‘m so close,” you mewl, and he speeds up. He’s so deep that you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His tip hits that blissful spongy part, and you unravel with crying chants of his name.  

“Fuck, I can’t hold back any longer.” Eddie pulls out at the last possible moment, spilling onto your ass with a breathy groan. He brings his free hand to the hood of the car, and you look up to see him grinning widely. “That was…wow. If I didn’t already know you were my dream girl…” He keeps staring at you, as though he can’t believe you’re real.

“Um, babe?” you start, “could you clean me up?”

“Wha–oh, yeah, sorry. Just…fuck, you’re so fuckin’ hot.” He scrounges around the garage for a clean rag, snapping one up and wiping his cum off of you. “This is much better than coming on a magazine,” he teases, and you swat at him playfully before pulling on just your shorts, since your panties were destroyed by Eddie’s impatience.

You wrap your arms around his lithe waist once he’s back in his coveralls. “So, that was your favorite magazine. Am I going to find any favorite videos hiding under your bed next?” You giggle as he tickles you and kisses your neck.

“Nah,” he says, laughing. “But, y’know…we could make one.”

#requests #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x bookworm!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

[nico-di-genova]

A Lesson in Braking

Chapter 2

Read on Archive of Our Own

A/N: hehehehehehe (my only thoughts while writing this fic).

Warnings: NSFW and a brief mention of anti-harm dorm furniture.

“I fucked an old guy last night,” Lance says to Esteban, when he’s lying on the floor of his dorm room, head resting on the Spider-Man pillow he bought Esteban for his birthday last spring. “Behind the Barnes & Noble. Hand job.”

Esteban hums. He’s  sitting at his desk that he’s moved to slot beneath the single small window of his room, curled over his laptop and working on some complex string of numbers. Three weeks into the semester and Esteban is already drowning in assignments – Lance doesn’t envy him.

“He ate my cum,” he continues, picking at a fraying edge of the pillow. When he pulls at the red string it snags on the fabric and then releases, growing longer in Lance’s grip. He should buy Esteban a new one, maybe a whole bedspread to match. The thought occurs that he could buy a matching set, just to sleep on during the nights when he’s too drunk to get back to his own place and crashes in the living room.

Esteban hums again, pushes his glasses further up his nose, keeps clicking away on his laptop so that the number sequence only grows longer. Lance can only catch pieces of it from where he’s lying on the floor, head angled backward to stare up at Esteban as he works. But even the small bit he can see is enough to give him a headache.  

“When I kissed him I tasted it.”

That gets him.

Esteban sighs, leans back in the chair as far as it will go given its anti-tip design – dorm furniture made to prevent kids from hanging themselves from their light fixtures – rubs at the bridge of his nose and then falls back forward with a groan.

“You’re telling me this, why?”

Lance pouts, tips his head further back on the pillow so he can get a better look at Esteban with one arm on the back of his chair, leaning down to stare at him with mild judgement.

“You don’t want to know about the old man sex I had?”

“I can barely tolerate hearing about the normal sex you have.”

Lance laughs. The spider-man plush, also bought by Lance from the birthday trip to Disneyland last spring, rises and falls on his stomach with the movement. Technically, he has homework for his intro to Marketing class, but it’s more fun to laze around on Esteban’s dirty floor, talking about his sex life, than it is to learn about how to make people buy things. Besides, he’s grown up listening to his dad rant about his successes in the industry, so much so that his first word might as well have been entrepreneurship. It shouldn’t be a hard class to pass.

The dorm room is so tiny he almost runs the whole length of it, one foot nearly to the door, his head at the base of Esteban’s chair, one knee propped in the air. One of his arms is spread wide enough that it’s laying underneath Esteban’s bed, fingers toying with the shoelace of a sneaker that’s been kicked off underneath. It’s a familiar sight by this point, Lance taking up space in Esteban’s room, his life, with ease and spreading out enough that he can be found in nearly every corner of it. Esteban always makes room for him, sometimes will join him on the floor when his course load isn’t too much. But junior year is already different from the two prior, kicking off with a speed that is giving Lance whiplash.

He misses Sovi, the freshman dorms that once made him feel caged, but provided infinitely more freedom in that they weren’t tied to the paths that had led them here.

“My normal sex life just involves Pato, you’d rather hear about me fucking Pato?” He asks, smirks, just barely dodges the pencil Esteban flicks down at him.

“I don’t want to hear about you fucking anyone! Get a journal!”

Lance muses, “I guess there was also that one guy a few weeks ago. From that party in Q,” the building a few doors down from Esteban’s. It sat on the shore of the lake and far enough away from the central hub that university police tended to overlook it. Esteban had called Lance four beers deep a week into school and told him to get there quick, didn’t specify where ‘there’ was, so Lance had to use Find My to even locate him. When he’d pulled up the party had been in full swing on the third floor, and he was welcomed into the cramped apartment by Esteban who reeked of alcohol and weed. Lance ended up fucking one of the guys who lived there, riding him hurriedly and enduring the guy keeping a sweaty palm pressed to his mouth so he didn’t make too much noise in the room they’d locked themselves in.

 Esteban squints at him, “You said that guy was shit.”

“He was.” He came first and then didn’t even bother to get Lance off.

“So why the fuck would you want to talk about it again?”

“Because you don’t want to hear about the good old man sex.”  

Esteban’s nose crinkles in disgust, “Well how old was he?”

“I didn’t ask.”

The mechanical engineering is quickly forgotten, Esteban spinning around fully in his chair and staring at Lance with wide eyes. Lance grins up at him innocently, flutters his eyelashes, scoots over on the pillow as a silent invitation for the man to join him on the ugly blue carpeted floor. Esteban doesn’t take it, yet, Lance is still confident he can convince him.

“How old did he look?”

“I don’t know, forties maybe?”

“Forties?! What the fuck, Lance!?”

“What?”

The deadpan stare Esteban gives him isn’t new, it’s pretty standard actually. “You are insane. And stupid.”

Lance, because he likes testing his luck, pushing at the boundaries of his and Esteban’s friendship, seeing where the line is so he can be prepared for when it snaps, keeps going, “I’m seeing him again tonight.”

He wishes he’d been filming, just so he could preserve the way Esteban’s eyes get impossibly wider. Finally, Esteban gets out of the chair, but he doesn’t join Lance on the floor, instead he paces the length of the room, hands held on his head and mumbles a rapid string of words that Lance doesn’t quite get but he thinks are mainly swears.

“You are joking, yes? Tell me you are joking.” Hands on his hips, towering over Lance, he looks like a giant. Tall and lanky with big eyes behind his wire-rimmed frames.

Lance hadn’t been. He’s been texting Fernando since late last night, ignoring calls from his dad in the process. So far the conversation has consisted of little substance, just enough to establish that Lance is a junior, Fernando is retired, and lives in one of the mansions on the other side of the lake that is right outside Esteban’s prison cell-sized window. Mainly they’d talked about Fernando’s cock, how Lance is upset he didn’t get to see it, taste it – how he’d like to return the favor preferably outside of the backseat of a car and somewhere a bit more comfortable.

He wants to be called beautiful again, reverently, spread out on silk sheets and spread open by Fernando’s fingers. He blames the accelerated horniness on the dry summer he’d just had, the time spent at his father’s house with little else to do and no one to hook up with because Lawrence had insisted on spending as much time as he could with Lance. They’d gone to the track to watch a few races, the office where Lance was meant to be shadowing, galas and banquets, and the golf course most mornings so Lawrence could ensure Lance actually had something to show for the tuition he was fronting. Lance knows it was mainly a last ditch effort on his dad’s behalf to maintain their relationship, before Lance slipped off back to Florida and began predictably sending him to voicemail. Which is why he had even bothered enduring it in the first place, when he just as easily could has gone off to the Mykonos with a group of guys from his frat.

He'd refrained from debauchery all summer, was paying the price for his abstinence now. But, like always, the cost was something to which Lance paid very little, until the bill began to raise eyebrows, as Esteban’s now are.

“Lance. Tell me you are joking!”

“Why would I be joking?”

Esteban glares down at him, while Lance sprawls out further across the thin carpet, concrete flooring beneath digging into his shoulder blades, and smiles. It’s wide, lazy, slow to draw across his face. The sort of shit-eating, self-assured, smirk that Esteban hates.

“It was good sex, Este! He did this thing-“

“Stop! No! Stop! I don’t want to know.”

Lance stops, goes quiet, but continues to smirk. In his pocket, he feels his phone vibrate, probably Fernando again. They’re meant to be meeting in a few hours, once the suns gone down enough that being outside doesn’t make him feel like he’s melting. When Fernando can take him to the bar in the shopping plaza nearby and treat him to a beer before he fucks him senseless, as he’s been promising all day.

He doesn’t tell Esteban this, figures he’s maybe traumatized him enough for the day. Instead, he changes the topic to Esteban’s course load, feigns interest in the math still open on his laptop. Esteban is all too willing to explain it to him, to turn his attention away from the phone Lance pulls from his pocket and grins at with cheeks turning red.

Fernando has sent him a photo of his outfit, button of his slacks undone, zipper pulled low,  hand holding the waistband below his hips. He has a tattoo on the inside of his forearm, close to his wrist, something Lance hadn’t noticed in the dark of his car last night, but that he now can’t draw his eyes away from. It’s a cross of some sort, produces the sort of sacrilegious thoughts that he can’t linger on for too long for fear of losing his religion.

‘Wear something nice,’ Fernando’s text says, when he manages to read it.

Lance doesn’t own much that fits the description, other than a suit he saves for formals, but he figures it maybe doesn’t actually matter that much. Fernando promises to rip whatever it is off of him anyway.

Esteban throws another pencil at him when he tries to show him the photo, holds his hand up to block the view and then lands the writing utensil right on Lance’s nose.

------------

His dad calls when he’s fresh out of the shower of his own apartment, steam curling in the air around him and his phone vibrating steadily against the granite countertops of his humid bathroom. He answers before it goes to voicemail, figures he owes his dad this because it’s the third time he’s called since that morning, and he doesn’t want to risk pissing the man off too much.

“Hey,” he says as he’s wrapping a towel around his waist, slicking his wet hair back out of his face with his free hand. He leaves the phone on speaker, lets his dad’s voice fill space as he busies with getting ready.  

“I’m going to assume you’ve been ignoring my calls because you are going to class.”

He only has one class on Tuesday’s, and it’s finished by noon. Advanced golf merchandising, a pointless elective where he’s meant to be learning the management of a retail location. He takes notes, enough to retain the important bits, but he already knows management isn’t where he’s going to end up. His dad would secure him some corporate position within his company before that was even an option. Which, he doesn’t want either, can’t stand the thought of being forced to wear a shirt with a collar every day.

“Yeah, I just got back from campus,” he lies, he’s been hiding out at Esteban’s since class ended, it’s seven now. The lie comes too easy, but the truth would only hurt the both of them – that Lance is avoiding his father because their conversations hurt more than they help these days. That Lance is growing, but it’s in a direction away from Lawrence, from the idea of who his dad thought he would be.

His dad wishes Lance were still small, and Lance wishes that too, but only because when he was a child hurting his dad only resulted in a brief scolding. Now it leads to awkward silences that neither of them know how to fill.

“Class is going well?”

“Um, easy so far, yeah.” They’re only three weeks in. “Other than this financial accounting class, it’s brutal.” He’s already had to ask Esteban for help, already knows he’s going to need to visit the library for tutoring.

He wipes steam from his mirror with the palm of his hand, catches a glimpse of his dripping reflection. Somehow, he needs to assemble himself into something relatively attractive within the next ten minutes, only for it to most likely come undone the second he slides his helmet over his hair. There’s a twisted sort of humor in him wondering how best to style himself for Fernando, while he’s on the phone with his father, pretending to care about classes that had stopped being fun once Lance realized they were actually supposed to lead to something.

“You spent all summer looking at the books,” Lawrence says. Which is true, but it had made more sense when things were hands on. Now it’s just a jumble of words and numbers on a whiteboard, a professor who knows the course is meant for weeding out those who are too weak to continue, and who looks at Lance every time he shows up late with a knowing sort of disappointment.

People didn’t used to look at him like that, it’s a growing sentiment the more Lance stumbles.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just- it’s different. All reading and equations and- I don’t know. I’m not a numbers guy, dad, you know this.”

“You got it pretty well while you were here.”

Only because he’d felt his dad’s eyes on him the whole summer, felt the pressure and the weight and need to prove he could do something. His professor doesn’t bother to look at Lance once he’s sat at a desk, which means Lance zones out, doodles designs in the margins of his notes and then wonders why the numbers don’t add up while he’s doing homework later.

“It’s different,” the exasperation in his voice is audible, he pauses where he’d been drying his hair with a towel pulled from under the sink. Closes his eyes. Breathes. “But I’m trying. I’ll- I’ll figure it out.”

“I know you will, Lance. I didn’t say you wouldn’t.”

They’re being careful around each other, the eggshells just beginning to crunch beneath their feet. Neither one of them want a fight and Lance can feel the tension of it through the phone, the tightening of something in his chest that threatens to break every time he speaks to his father now. This is why he lets it go to voicemail.

Fernando texts him, he sees the notification come through as he’s staring at the phone, hands braced on the bathroom sink. Probably asking if he’s on his way. Lance’s hair is still dripping water in cold tendrils down the back of his neck, a puddle forming on the carpet at his feet. He hasn’t even bothered to find an outfit or brush his teeth.

“Look, dad- I- um, I gotta go. I have a, uh, a study thing with Pato-“

“Oh, okay, yeah. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Lance closes his eyes again, bows his head, tries not to care about the hurt that’s audible in his father’s voice and finds that it somehow manages to dig between his ribs anyway. He hangs up before there’s the chance for the line to fracture further, and then he busies himself with texting Fernando back.

‘You are still coming?’ Fernando asks.

Lance says he’ll be there soon, and then he focuses on the toothbrush in his hands, getting himself ready, and ignores everything else.

-------------

“I need a drink!” Lance yells over the music, leaning further into Fernando, who holds him up with ease. “A shot!”

Fernando’s hand on his waist tightens when Lance rocks on his feet. They’re standing in the press of bodies on the dance floor, people on all sides. The crowd makes it easy for Lance to press against Fernando, the flashing lights adding to the disorientation. No one notices the way Fernando’s got one hand gripping Lance’s hipbone, the other on his ass, tucked into the pocket of his jeans and cupping the curve of him.  

They’re the same jeans he’d worn last night, pulled from the crumpled heap on his floor and slid back on because he couldn’t find anything else. If Fernando has noticed he doesn’t say anything, too distracted by the white linen button-up that Lance wear, only half done-up and exposing nearly the full expanse of his chest in the multicolored lights. Lance knows it puts the chain around his neck on full display, makes his collarbones stand out, shows how broad he is, and produces the impressed reaction Fernando had exhibited upon first seeing him.

He’d bought Lance his first drink, and then the first requested tequila shot, leaning on the bar top and staring at the exposed column of his neck as Lance tipped the liquor back and downed it with practiced ease. Lance had seen the way Fernando’s eyes had darkened as his adams apple bobbed, looking from the corner of his eye just to see the response that would be elicited with the movement.  

“What do you want?” Fernando asks now, hand on his hip coming up to pull Lance down to him so his lips just barely brush over Lance’s ear.

He shudders, breath stuttering when Fernando’s fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and pull just enough that there’s the promise of something better later. He’s been teasing Lance since Lance first arrived, the ghost of a touch, a tongue tracing over the sweaty line of his neck, enough to have him hard in his jeans but never doing anything to solve the problem.

It’s the most public foreplay Lance has ever engaged in, even if everyone is too drunk or too involved in their own games to even notice.

“Vodka?” Lance yells, knowing he probably seems young for only ordering shots, but he’d only just turned twenty-one last October. Most of his experience with alcohol has been bagged wine fountained before entry to a party or the mix of Kool-Aid and whatever liquor could be procured into a giant tub for jungle juice. Shots are simple, uncomplicated, and he knows he can handle them. Plus they hit fast, or at least feel like they do, give him the liquid courage needed to grind against Fernando as Pit Bull blares around them in the crowded bar.

The Keys is a mixed sort of space, half occupied by college kids who were too lazy to drive all the way to Rusty’s and half-filled by the locals who are looking for fun outside of their mansions. It means he and Fernando don’t draw attention, Lance fits in with the group of kids in their backwards caps and low cut shirts, Fernando blends with the guys in their pressed button-ups and black slacks. He just looks hotter than the others, the pants hugging his waist and ass well, clearly tailored. And the peak of a tattoo Lance gets on the back of Fernando’s neck as he follows him back up to the bar, Fernando’s hand around his wrist towing him through the crowd, separates him enough from the older guys smoking cigars outside on the patio. He wants to know what the tattoo is, slide Fernando’s shirt off his shoulders and trace the ink with his tongue.

But that’s for later, for now he lets Fernando guide him, lean him against the bar top, slide a hand back into the pocket of his jeans because the shape of his palm over his ass is becoming familiar. He flags down the bartender, orders two shots of Vodka and then they tip them back together. Lance can feel how flushed his neck is getting, wonders if the red of it is spreading to his chest, his cheeks. His hair that was still slightly damp from the shower is frizzing in the humidity of the packed space, falling over his forehead.

Fernando stares up at him, lips wet with vodka and his own spit when he licks them, Lance follows the movement, starts to lean forward like he intends to taste the lingering alcohol himself. Fernando stops him with a hand on his chest, fingers splayed across bare skin, index finger dipping into the hollow of his clavicle. Lance shudders, Fernando feels it.

“Let’s get out of here, yes?”

“Yes.”

Lance can’t drive his bike, just drunk enough that he knows he couldn’t keep his balance. Instead, he climbs into the passenger seat of Fernando’s Aston Martin, and deposits his own keys in the cupholder, casting a forlorn look back at his gear in the backseat. The same seat he’d come undone in last night, now occupied by his motorcycle helmet with the sticker of a cat waving the Canadian flag – something Pato had found online and ordered because ‘it’s Canada, Lance! You know, you!’. Fernando had asked him about it when he parked earlier, traced the outline of it before Lance had taken his helmet off, lifted Lance’s visor so he could see his eyes more clearly as he did so.

When he looks back at Fernando in the driver’s seat the man is staring at him. Lance knows what it looks like when someone wants him. He knows the way Pato gets all slack jawed and dopey-eyed, eyes flicking to Lance’s lips every two seconds even though he wouldn’t even try to kiss him. But Fernando’s look of want is different, more demanding and all-encompassing. He looks like he’s plotting the best course of stripping Lance out of his clothes before they’ve even reached their destination, like he is thinking of the best way to take him apart.

Maybe it’s because he’s more experienced, or maybe it’s because he’s less. Lance doesn’t know enough about him, anything really, to know if he is the first man Fernando has hooked up with or not. They still haven’t found much time to talk, or maybe just haven’t wanted to make the effort. Lance is okay with that, his idea of foreplay is not long discussions and get-to-know-you’s. He doesn’t have the patience for that, much prefers Fernando’s method of cutting to the quick and easy of it.  Which Fernando does when he leans across the console enough to grab Lance by the chain around his neck and pull him in for a kiss.

Lance is still not used to the kissing, just opens his mouth and lets Fernando’s tongue slide into it because he’s not practiced enough. He’s okay with letting Fernando take control, likes how he doesn’t have to think about it, just follow. Fernando tastes like vodka, and Lance swallows the familiar taste of it when their spit mixes and he can no longer tell whose is whose.

When Fernando pulls back Lance tries to chase him, is stopped again by a hand on his chest, firm and unyielding.

“You are still okay with coming to my place?” Fernando asks, and something in the way he says it is slightly sobering. It makes Lance remember his bike two spots over, prepared to be abandoned for the night and hopefully still there come morning.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“I will drive you home, instead. If you want. Up to you.”

“No. No I’m good. Trust me.” He’d prepped himself in the shower and everything, knew what he was getting into before a drop of alcohol ever touched his tongue. “I’ve been thinking about this since last night.”

Fernando eyes him, glances down at his chest where his skin is still red and hot and bare against his hand.

“Okay. God, you are beautiful.”  

The praise shoots straight to Lance’s cock, has a quiet moan escaping him, something he only just barely manages to bite back with the press of his teeth into his bottom lip. Fernando catches it anyway, grins like he’s realized the praise wasn’t just a one-off from the hand job last night, but something Lance actually enjoys.

"Don’t worry, pretty boy,” he promises, “Make you feel better soon.”

#strollonso #strollonso fic #a lesson in braking #a lesson in braking fic #my fic #gang they make me maybe a bit unwell #also!! don't say anything about it lowkey being toxic rn #I know! #(it's intentional) #I have a path #let me stroll along it

[maxiroff]

I guess your not who I thought you were ~Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader is bullied in school and Natasha asks her to tutor her. They fall in love but is their relationship really as good as reader thinks and what happens when Natasha is put in the spot?

Ps. It’s a shit summery but it will have to do.

Paring: Popular Natasha x bullied reader

Words : 1756

Warnings: ANGST , bullying- mentally and a bit physical, self hatred, eating disorder, talks of suicide, self harm, no happy ending

Note: This is my firs time writing angst so it’s not that good and it’s kinda rushed. And again English is not my first language so there may be errors and I haven’t proofread it.

It started with you tutoring her in math and in english. You were the nerdy outcast that nobody wanted to be seen around with. You’ve been bullied since you can remember and while you tried not to let the comments get to you, sometimes they just do.

“God you're so fat you should just stop eating.”

So you did. And it worked for a while, until it didn't. Every time you stepped on the scale the numbers seem to go up instead of down and your clothes still seem to sit too tight on your body. As the weeks progressed you got thinner and thinner but it was in vain, the comments didn't seem to stop.

“You could at least put on makeup, it's no wonder no one wants you.”

So you did. You bought everything your money would allow, foundation, concealer, mascara, contour, a brow pencil and blush. But it didn't matter, you knew that whatever you did it would still be in vain. You would still be the joke of the school. Everyday you hid behind the mask on your face and every time you looked in the mirror as tears streamed down your face you could see how you were slowly fading away.

God why could you never be enough. There was always something wrong with you and the more people said it the more you believed it.

“You’re such a waste of space, you should kill your self no ne wants you here anyway.”

They said as one of them bumped their shoulder into yours so hard you were pushed into a locker. Your arm ached as you could feel how tears welled up in your eyes. All eyes were on you, laughing as you ran as fast you could out of there. You could taste the saltiness of the tears upon your cheeks as you ran all the way home. It was all a blur but suddenly you were home, standing in the bathroom looking in the mirror. Your mascara smeared over your face as you tried to wipe away your tears. The longer you looked the more flaws you could see and the louder the voices in your head seemed.

“You should do it, you know they’re right.” “Your a disappointment to everyone” “Stop eating your so fat” “KIll youself” “No one wants you here anyway” “Kill yourself, do it”

“Aaahhhhhhhh, stop, stop, stop” You shouted as your knees gave out and you fell hard to the marble floor. Leaning your back against the tub you tucked your knees up to your body making you as small as possible. Resting your head on the top of your knees you finally let yourself let go.

“Please” you whispered as sobbs wrecked your body. You were so tired, so tired. When would it stop, why couldn't they just stop, you never did anything wrong. Maybe they were right, you would be doing everyone a favor anyway. You slowly lifted your head looking through your blurred vision for your razor blades. When you turned your head to the right you saw them laying in the corner of the tub. With shaky hands you slowly picked it up and brought it closer to your face, admiring it for a second.

If you found a big enough vein and made it deep enough maybe it would do the job, maybe. It was as if you were in a trance as you slowly rolled up your sleeves and brought the razor towards your arm. With a deep breath you dragged the blade in a perfectly straight line across your arm. Small pearls of blood slowly started to develop in the wound. One turned into many and the blood started to drip down on your clothes and onto the floor. That's when you seemed to wake up.

“Ahh fuck what did I do, what did I do, what did I do?” You quietly chanted over and over as you wobbly stood up and made your way to the sink. Panik set in the moment you realized the amount of blood you had lost and saw black dots in your vision for a moment. Fumbling with the first aid package in the cabinet above the sink you got out bandaids, bandages and rubbing alcohol.

Your eyes welled up again at the sting from the rubbing alcohol in the wounds blurring your vision once again. Carefully you wrapped your arm with the bandage and secured it with the band aids. Not your finest work but it worked for now. You made your way to your bedroom just wanting to sleep after the shock of what happened.

When you woke up the next day you had a text from an unknown number.

Hey I know this might be weird but I have been failing a few classes and I happen to know that you have really good grades in them and was wondering if you could help me?

-Natasha Romanoff, in your economic class.

That was almost three months ago now. Natasha was known for being the popular girl in school, always has been. You knew it could be a mistake to say yes given that she was also known as one of the school bullies. Which you knew all too well having been at the receiving ends of some of her comments. But what the hell tight, it's not like life could get worse.

And it didn't. In the beginning it was quite awkward but it wasn't that bad. As the weeks progressed you and Nastaha got closer and she asked you out. You almost couldn't believe it but you said yes and it was the best thing that had happened to you. Of course in the beginning of the relationship you were weary of her intentions because of the nature of it. But as time passed you trusted her more and started to open up about your struggles with mental health and your ED. And in return she told you about her insecurities about being out to the school because she was afraid of being treated differently.

You helped each other and you told her it was okay to keep your relationship secret when she asked. Of course it hurt to not be able to hold her hand in school and not being able to walk her to class or kiss in the hallways like everybody else. But if that was the price that came with being with her, it was worth it, she was worth it. Your small but memorable moments were what counted.

For example yesterday it was your guys six month anniversary and when you opened the door for her she stood there waiting for you with a big bouquet of flowers. She also got you your favorite chocolate and she gave you a build-a-bear with a massage saying she loved you build into it. You had set up a romantic dinner for you and put the flowers on the table. Now it was your turn to give her your gift and you were nervous as hell for her reaction.

“Ehh so you know i couldn't really afford anything fancy but i remembered how you said a few weeks ago that you liked more personal stuff. So I made you this necklace, it has both our initials and I have a matching one.” you said as you carefully handed it over to her. You couldn't even look at her because you were afraid of her reaction. The silence was defeating. Why didn't she say anything? Maybe she hated it. Maybe she thought it was ugly, I mean it was home made after all. God this was a bad idea.

“Em you don’t have to wear it-”

“No shut up I’m going to wear it forever, I love it” Your eyes looked up at her shimmering with tears. “Really” You said hopgull.

“Yes really” she put her hand under your chin and kissed your lips softly. “I love you so much my darling. You are the most valuable thing in my life and I’ll wear this as a sign of that.”

You still could not let that memory go as you wandered the halls a few days later.

You knew Natasha said she wanted to keep the relationship private because she wasn't out to the school. And while you knew that might have been true you knew now that she finally was out that the real reason was because she was ashamed. She was ashamed of you. She didn't want to be seen with you. You could hear your own heart crack when you realized that. It hurt but you knew you could get past that because she meant that much to you.

You normally wouldn't talk to her in school, per her request, but right now you didnt care as you got closer to her and her friend group. She had taken off her necklace when she showered at your house and forgot to take it with her so you were just going to give it back. In and out, a quick exchange, barely any words needed.

You could see how her friends sent you weird looks as they realized you were coming in their direction but Nat hadn't noticed you yet.

“Oh look who it is, the freak” they all laughed and Natasha turned towards you. Her eyes immediately widened and you could see the panicked expression spread on her face.

“What the hell do you want?” Came from one of her friends but you just ignored them.

“Emm N-nat you forgot this at home” you said as you slowly inched your hand closer to her showing the necklace. She watched you with a weary expression.

“And why would I want to have that” she said with a serious tone as her friends laughed at her comment and you slowly drew your hand back in shame.

“I would never wear something as ugly as that, it's even uglier than you” this time she laughed along with her friends. Your eyes filled with tears at the humiliation and hurt as you remembered her promise to you when you gave it to her.

“I guess you're not who I thought you were” was the last thing you said as you turned to run away with tears streaming down your face. Throwing the necklace towards a trash can only missing it by an inch making it fall to the floor. How stupid of you to believe she would ever want you as much as you wanted her.

Part 2 here if you want a happy ending instead

#natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha angst #angst with a sad ending #natasha x reader #Natasha x reader angst

[ratsonastick]

Painting Red

ClarisseLaRue x Fem!ShyReader

(SORRY NOT FULLY EDITED)

You never talked to Clarisse, partly because you never had the time to make new friends and she was a scary person to approach. 

You heard of the stories, of how she would beat kids up and try to drown them in the toilets, all these stories made it a lot harder even to want to befriend her. 

But it wasn't until the day you hated the most (besides capturing the flag) arrived were you forced to talk to her.

Camp Day. 

Camp day was exactly what it sounded like, it was a day when all the older campers were paired up and had to create an activity all the younger campers would enjoy and they would rotate in groups to come to your activities. 

As a younger camper, you hated it, and you still do to this day. 

“Ugh, I’m so happy! I'm paired with Luke.” Your friend Hailey said as she skipped next to you “Who's that?” You asked, your mind slightly clouded as you stressed about your partner being Clarisse. 

“You're kidding right,” She asked as she stopped skipping and looked at you. You shook your head and stopped walking to look at her. Hailey shook her head and put a sweet smile back onto her face “Okay whatever, who's your partner.” 

You looked down at the paper to double-check, maybe it had magically changed? Nope. 

“Clarisse la Rue.” You mumbled, folding the paper back up and shoving it into the pockets of your jean shorts. Hailey’s face went into a pencil-straight smile and nodded her head slowly which made you scoff and walk past her. 

“Maybe it won't be that bad…” She started to say before you cut her off with a side-eye. “Okay just go find her and talk about what you guys want to do,” Hailey suggested which made you sigh.

“She's going to want to do hardcore things! I just want to sit and paint and yell at the younger kids.” You mumbled which made her smile “Hey! At least you guys have something in common! Yelling at the younger campers.” 

You shook your head and eventually, Hailey walked off getting distracted by something. You kept on walking, trying to find the curly brunette who always seemed angry at the world. 

Eventually, you found her, sitting on the steps of her cabin eating an apple. You took in a deep breath and decided to walk up to her, it was either now or sometime later. When you grew close enough Clarisse looked up and scanned your body, trying to search for something, or maybe memorize what you looked like. 

“Hi Clarisse, sorry to bother but we were paired up for the camp day thing …” You started but she cut you off. “Okay, pick something to do.” She mumbled and you nodded your head, “Okay!” 

You stood there for a few more seconds before abruptly turning and walking away, leaving Clarisse staring at the back of you with a weird look. 

Another camper from her cabin walked out and stood next to her, “Why are you letting her choose? She probably picked something stupid.” 

Clarisse shrugged her shoulders “Are you trying to be nice to her?” The camper started again which made Clarisse give them a mean look “Stop saying stupid things, I’m just not going to be there half of the time, so I might as well let her do something she likes.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next day you gathered some items and started to walk towards the crafts cabin, it was sunny out, and you had to pull your hair back so the sweat wouldn’t gather in your hair. You secretly wished that Clarisse would help you carry these things, you had seen her carry heavier things and act like it was nothing, so where was she when you needed her for the first time. 

Almost like you had manifested it Clarisse appeared at your side, her face was blank with annoyance but you still whispered out a small hello just to be nice to her. “So what are we doing?”

‘We’? The last thing you heard from another camper was that you were doing this on your own, now she's saying it's going to be a group activity like it should be? What! 

“Uhm I was thinking we could just keep it simple and do painting.” You spoke readjusting the things in your hands, she gave you a weird look for what you choose but you looked forward “Hey! You said I could choose. If you have an issue with painting, that's on you for not telling me.” 

You talked back to her, Clarisse was a bit surprised how strong your voice sounded, it was almost attractive to her. 

The two of you continued to walk and when you arrived at the small cabin you placed the items down letting out a small sigh of relief. 

Clarisse sat down and tossed a ball in between her hands as she avoided looking at you. You didn’t want to ask her anything so you quietly started to get to work. Placing out plates and bottles of paints for the next day. 

After a few moments Clarisse looked up at you and watched as you started to work, she couldn't help herself but stare at you from behind, you were cute. 

For a few moments Clarisse started to feel ashamed of herself, what was she doing? She was supposed to ditch you like she had been telling everyone and yet she sat here. For some reason your presence was nice, and how you didn’t force her into conversations like everyone else. 

You on the other hand felt a bit awkward, the silence was nice but since you've never really talked to her before it felt like there was this tension surrounding you. After 30 minutes Clarisse finally got up from the comfy chair and walked over to you “Do you need anything?” She asked, her face seemed like she was being snarky but deep down she honestly wanted to help. 

“Uhm could you just help me carry these boxes back to the shed?” The boxes were almost emptied but Clarisse still reached for the one that looked the heaviest. 

The two of you walked out of the art cabin and remained side by side, it was a bit awkward but also comforting. No one looked at you strangely because you had her at your side, it was nice. 

Clarisse wanted to speak up but for once she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t hate you and she genuinely wanted you to like her for some reason. These feelings were so strange to her, and a part of her didn't know what to do. It had only been a short few hours and yet she was still craving to grow closer to you. 

As you grew closer to the shed you quickly opened the door placed the box on the ground and turned to face Clarisse, “So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” you spoke softly, your hands moving around because they didn’t know where to go and Clarisse noticed how your cheeks were flushed from the air. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

When it came time for campers to come to your activity you stood there nervously, fixing things that didn’t even need adjusting. 

Clarisse was getting annoyed by how frantic you seemed and stood up from her chair “Y/N sit down.” She ordered you in a gentle voice and you obeyed, sitting down in the seat she had been sitting in before you, her scent still lingering.

She stood with her arms crossed looking at the door, only a few moments later and campers started to flood in. there were so many Ares campers and a part of you wondered if Clarisse had told them to come (She did.) 

You stood up from the chair and started to explain what to do, which was to paint whatever and just not get messy. You turned to the record player and turned it up so people could listen to music as they talked. 

You were proud of yourself, for doing this all, and eventually found yourself sitting down and painting. You didn’t know what to do exactly but you found yourself drawing a heart. And not just a simple one but a scientifically accurate heart. 

To some it might have looked weird because it most definitely wasn't something cute to paint, but as Clarisse sat down next to you she nudged your shoulder with a smirk on her face “That's pretty” 

You smiled at her, turning back to your paper and looking at it. You could still see her looking at you, or maybe it was the painting in your peripheral vision. 

Clarisse couldn’t paint, she never really tried, so she decided to draw the moon and sun. She hated how it looked, it was like a kid had drawn it which made her grow slightly angry. She let out  huff and she placed her brush down which caught your attention. 

“What's wrong?” You asked softly and she rolled her eyes “Nothing.” You nodded your head gently and looked away “If it was nothing you wouldn’t be angry … So tell me how I can help.” Clarisse looked at you surprised you wanted to help her, even though she was having one of her fits. 

“I cant draw the moon, or the sun.” She sighed and you nodded your head moving slightly closer to her to look at the paper. Clarisse liked how you smelled, your shampoo and perfume mixed together to create such a calming aroma. 

She relaxed as she watched you sketch something out for her using a pencil “There you go.” You smiled as you leaned away. 

Clarisse nodded her head as she started to paint inside the lines, she messed up the warmth you gave her when you were close. 

When the activity ended Clarisse and you were left cleaning everything, you didn’t mind, humming slightly to the song on the record player. 

Clarisse tossed things into the trash whereas you were a bit more careful not wanting the paint to splatter on the ground. 

You were both quiet, Clarisse occasionally looking up to see what you were doing. When you finished cleaning you both came a little bit closer combing the trash together. 

While you did so a plate accidentally flung back and splattered onto you which caused you to gasp quietly. 

Clarisse stood there covering her face so she wouldn't laugh “Don’t you dare laugh Clarisse.” you spoke, your eyes still closed so you wouldn't see the mess on you. “I’m not … I promise” She whispered small breaths of air escaping her mouth instead of laughter. 

“It's all on my face” you whispered as you brought your hand up to feel it, “Mhmmm” She hummed as she looked around for a paper towel. 

“Here let me” She whispered as she grew closer to you, the breath from her nose fanning your cheek gently as she brushed your skin with the towel. 

The moment strangely felt intimate, or maybe a part of you wanted it to be. 

“I almost got it all” She mumbled as she turned your chin to the other way to rub the paint off the other side. Her movements were slow, almost like she didn’t want the moment to end. She then started to scrub your lips, but after a few seconds it wasn't the towel that was touching you, it was her finger. Gently caressing your lip causes it to open slightly. 

“Y/n?” She whispered out softly causing you to hum in response “Can I?” She asked, not wanting to fully say it. 

You opened your eyes slightly realizing how close she truly was, and all you did was nod before closing your eyes once more and feeling her lips instead of her finger. 

Her lips were soft and tasted like cherries, like she had prepared for this moment ahead of time and wore chapstick. 

After a few moments she pulled away her slightly warmed face “Okay well I should go” She whispered out taking a step back and leaving you behind confused. 

Clarisse felt a bit ashamed, not because she kissed a girl, but because she kissed someone, period. 

It felt weird to share such an intimate moment with someone, it's something she never really cared to do before (especially because she was an Ares kid) Being in love with someone just never crossed her mind, it was always just other ways to appeal to her father. 

As she left she started to miss the feeling and regret not staying closer to you, she wanted you. 

You on the other hand were still standing where you were left, your fingers gently grazing your lips, the feeling of her chapstick still on your lower lip. 

While you looked for the art you made you started to realize you couldn't find it on the drying rack, it was gone … but Clarisse’s still had hers here, probably meaning she took yours and left hers behind for you. 

The next few days you didn’t look for Clarisse, hoping that eventually she’d come to you when she was ready. And when it came to the fifth day, footsteps could be heard walking towards your bunk in your cabin. 

When you looked up from your book you saw her standing there, wearing jean shorts for what seemed like the first time (Hopefully not the last they had you gagged truly) 

“Kiss me” She spoke out like it was a demand, she wanted to feel you again, she wanted to know how it felt to feel love and not violence for once. 

And you obeyed. 

#percy jackon and the olympians #x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #wlw #camp half blood #dior goodjohn #luke castellan

[vitentia]

SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY .lıllıl.

pairings ━━ best friend!ellie x oblivious!reader (no fem pronouns but female anatomy)

warnings ━━ swiftly solved miscommunication, fluff, mention of throwing up

synopsis ━━ PART 2 of BAGS ━━ after that game night at Ellie’s your friendship had been…awkward to say the least. you’d try to catch her in passing to say hello but she’d be so busy she would just give you a quick hello and keep walking. you just couldn’t understand why after all that talk about not leaving you alone, was she doing the opposite. but maybe it’s for the best, maybe you should start moving on.

playlist ━━ glue song by beabadoobee ft clario ,

“And we live in The United States of America, specifically right here in Wyoming which is a…”

“State!” The small children answered unanimously.

“Good job everyone! High fives all around.” You exclaimed, holding your hands down for the children to slap. A knock on wood caught your attention.

You looked up and saw Maria walking over to you, waving to the children sitting on the floors with a kind smile.

“Hey Maria.”

“Hey hun, can we talk for a second?” She gestured to a more secluded corner in the makeshift school room, you agreed and followed her nervously.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, of course not. I just wanted to let you know there’s been a switch, Cyrus is gonna take your patrol for this week so consider it a free day. Not many of those going around.”

Your mouth fell open. “But I thought I was supposed to do a double with Ellie.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, this was kind of a last minute switch so you’d be taking Cyrus’ place with Ellie next week for a supply run.” She suggested upon noticing your downturned expression.

“Yeah, sure.” You agreed solemnly. Maria rubbed your shoulder and walked back out the double doors, leaving you alone in your own self pity. Even though you were bitter about her ignoring you, you thought this new patrol pairing would give you the chance to confront her without talking yourself out of it, again. And now all that planning was spoiled.

Your misery was short cut by the children, as per usual.

“Bye bye teacher!”

Called out the children as they packed up their papers and pencils and ran out the doors, you called out a goodbye but by then they were all scattered out. You sighed to yourself before noticing one little boy still sitting in his floor spot and scribbling some doodles on his paper. Crouching beside him, you decided to start a conversation in that high pitched voice best used to talk to kids.

“Wow, this drawing is amazing, where do you learn how to do it?”

He smiled bashfully and continued his pencil coloring. “My sister showed me.”

“Is your sister coming to pick you up or would you like me to walk you home?”

He shook his head, his bowl cut hair swaying back and forth along with it. “Nu uh, my big sister is picking me up today. She draws really nice.”

“Mhm, well, how about we wait for you sister outside, yeah?” You proposed, holding your hand out for him to take and standing up with him.

Just then, rushed footsteps came barreling into the school room and a short haired, out of breath Asian girl comes into the room.

“Sorry I’m late!” She took a couple more breaths and held her hands on her knees. “Jesus, this school needs a bell or something.”

You chuckled at her and brought the boy over to the porch outside the school where she greeted him. “I’d rather not ring the dinner bell, Cat.”

She stood to her full height and brought the young boy under her arm, purposely messing up his hair. “Wassup lil man? Did ya learn anything?”

Despite her teasing, he excitedly looked up at her and showed her his drawing. “Yeah! I learned what a state is!”

“Oh yeah? What state are we in now?” She quizzed him

“Jackson!” He proclaimed proudly.

She raised her eyebrows up and looked at you. “Wow! You must’ve had an amazing teacher then, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and nudged her shoulder. “He does. Kids get confused sometimes.”

“Mhm, totally.” She nodded sarcastically. “Ready to get some grub, bud?”

“Yup!” He responded happily and looked up at you, “Aren’t you hungry, teacher?”

“Uh, yeah I think I need something to cheer me up.”

“Well then, let’s get a move on, people.” Cat clapped her hands together and placed one behind her brothers back to guide him in the right direction as you followed next to her.

A cool breeze whistling past you seemed like the only noise for a few minutes as you each decided who should speak first, you sighed to yourself, feeling melancholy as the thought of summer leaving earlier than you wanted passed you by.

“So, what’s got you down?” Cat spoke up first.

You looked up from the ground, surprised. “Oh, uh, I was supposed to be on patrol this week but Maria pushed it back.”

She made a funny face at you. “Wow, you might be the only person in Jackson who complains about not being on patrol and getting a day off.” You both chuckled lightly at her words but you couldn’t help how quickly your mind flashed Ellie’s face for a second.

“Not the only one.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Yeah, no, not the only one. You and Ellie love being outside these walls, I still don’t get why.” You flinched at her name coming out of her mouth, not expecting the girl to just speak about her ex so openly after their breakup.

“I guess I feel…stuck sometimes. I don’t know…” You shrugged, looking down at your feet as you reached the outside of the cafeteria.

“Well, hey, if you’re gonna feel trapped for having a day off you might as well enjoy the good food that comes with it, right?” She said in an attempt to cheer you up.

You held the door open for the two as your eyes drifted away, meeting a pair of familiar green ones that nearly froze time for a second. Ellie raised her hand to wave at you, a role you usually took on, and received a tight lipped smile from you before entering the cafeteria.

Guilt ate you up as you went to sit down but Cat drifted all your worries away while you spoke. She made hilariously dry jokes and you laughed at both the irony and the contorted faces her brother made when he found the joke stupid and for a minute, Ellie didn’t invade your mind.

It felt nice talking to someone other than your usual two friends and had you crossing your fingers for a chance to start a new chapter in your life. A chapter without you hopelessly pining after Ellie for your entire teenage years.

☼

By the time you stepped into the next week, you had managed to shove your feelings for Ellie down into a tight hole of dirt and misery in order to continue with your assignment. You barely slept the night before, too busy coming up with outrageous scenarios that would never happen and freaking out over the lingering thoughts of her lips on yours. None of it was good and all of it felt disastrous.

Your movement were sluggish and slow as you packed all the essential items you needed for the journey, purposely trying to avoid seeing her face earlier than necessary.

Unfortunately, that had an opposite effect.

“Hey.” Ellie greeted you with a small smile when you opened your front door. “You ready?”

You released the breath you held every time you saw her face and nodded, picking your bag up off the floor and walking out with her. The two of you walked in silence towards the stables for a minute, each wanting to speak first but neither having the balls to actually do so.

“Did…” you mentally cursed yourself for breaking the silence first, “did Maria tell you exactly where we’re going?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Ellie fumbled behind herself for the short pockets of her book bag before finally pulling out a neatly folded map. She opened the map to its full extent and leaned closer to you to point to your destination.

“Yellowstone National Park?” You read out carefully. “What kind of supplies are we gonna find in a…park?”

“A National park.” Ellie emphasized, stepping into the stables to greet Shimmer.

“Okay, what are we gonna find in a National park?” You questioned, reaching down to grab a rope and saddle for your horse until Ellie stopped you, her hands hovering over yours.

“Wait! Uh, Maria said only one horse for this supply run.”

“You’re joking.” You deadpanned.

She shrugged, “Sorry.”

Reluctantly agreeing, you following Ellie on the opposite side of Shimmer towards the front gates where patrol officers sat in their seats fighting sleep. The purple and gold hue that fell over Jackson from the quarter rising sun would’ve made you lull into a sleep, had it not been for the short brown haired girl that clogged your mind like a bad sinus infection.

You snagged an apple from a nearby bucket and shoved it in your pocket before snapping the patroller out of his sleep and announcing your leave. He called for others to open the gates as you took your seat behind Ellie on the horse, hesitantly wrapping your arms around her waist.

Again, silence overcame the two of you, begging to be addressed.

But for the first time in a long time, Ellie spoke first.

“I’m…I…” she sighed, seemingly frustrated.

“Take your time.” You said in a teasing tone.

“Shut the fuck up.” She snickered, giving you quick look over her shoulder before facing the open road once more. “I’m trying to apologize for…you know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Oh, fuck off, you’re really gonna milk this, aren’t you?”

You smiled happily and placed your chin on her shoulder. “I am.”

She rolled her eyes but continued. “I’m sorry for, you know, ignoring you these past few days, but in my defense I had very good reason.”

“Which is?”

“I can’t say.”

You clicked your teeth and lifted your head off of her, “Fuck you.”

Ellie chuckled under her breath and the three of you, including Shimmer, pushed forward on your trek. However, this time was different. There was no lingering sense of resentment on your end and no awkward tension on hers. It was rare you two argued or ever stopped talking for an extended period of time but when you did, it would only take mere minutes to rekindle what was there before.

Ellie hated communicating properly and you loved making her, it’s how you two flowed.

The trip there would only last a day but sitting behind Ellie on Shimmer, your eyes falling forward and your cheek leaning on her shoulder for support as you both swayed side to side was a time that you deemed immeasurable. If this was the only way you could have her, you’d treasure it. Ellie as a friend is better than going without her at all.

☼

“Morning sunshine.” Ellie said with a laugh after holding your nose closed and causing you to wake up with a sharp inhale.

“Oh ha ha, dick.” You huffed and kicked her in the leg.

“Ow! What the fuck?!” She cursed dramatically.

“Yeah, not so funny anymore, is it?” You laughed at her and got out of your sleeping bag, cracking your bones like a grandma and packing it all up again. “Where’d you put Shimmer?”

“In the garage because we,” she placed her hands on your shoulders and looked into your eyes, “are walking.”

Your excited smile dropped into a straight line, “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

You groaned and threw your down into your palm. “And how long are we walking for?”

She pretended to think, “Mhm, about three ho-“

“Three hours?!” You shouted, looking at her in shock.

“What? It’s nothing you haven’t done before.” She shrugged and bent down to throw your bag over her shoulder. “Besides, I let you sleep in and according that clock right there, it is about…9:30.” She pointed at a grandfather clock nearby.

You looked between her and the clock. “Do you even know how to read a clock?”

“Nope. Let’s go.”

You groaned but followed beside her through the wildlife, barely coming across any infected but managing to witness a few squirrels here and there scurry past you in a frenzy. Ultimately, you two ended up in front of what you assumed to be a ticketing or entrance area with flyers and brochures splayed out wildly.

“Welcome to Yellowstone National Park.” Ellie read the large sign and picked up one of the brochures still sitting neatly in a box, flipping it open and gathering an accent of sorts. “Let’s get a move-on, darlin’”

“Please tell me you’re not going to do that this whole time.”

She gave you an offended look, “What? You don’t appreciate some good lo’ southern hospitality?”

You stared at her for a second before shaking your head and walking ahead. “It’s neither southern nor hospitable. Think more…ear crushing?”

Her jaw dropped, “Oh you are mean. You are a mean mean girl, darlin’.” You giggled at her continuation but covered it up with a groan.

“I hate you.”

“Love ya, too, darlin’. As your tour guide today, I simply must inform you that these here waters are highly dangerous and some are even acidic enough to burn the flesh off that pretty little skin, and we certainly do not want that.” Ellie read off the brochure, tugging your ear in her direction to get your full attention.

You were lucky you’re out in the open or else your increased body temperature couldn’t be blamed on anything more than pure embarrassment and attraction.

“Ow! Bullshit, there’s no way it can burn off flesh. It’s just water.” You shrugged, pulling your head away from her and wearily looking over at the clear blue lake you were nearby.

“False! See here it says some hot springs can reach up to 198 degrees Fahrenheit, and I don’t know about you but I do not want to swim in that.” She pushed heavily into her fake southern accent and read off the brochure as if she needs glasses.

You snickered. “Surprised you can swim at all.”

She chose to ignore your comment and carry on with her little bit. “Here look, map says we’re approaching one right now.”

Ellie grabbed your hand without warning and pulled you in the direction of the boulders that surrounded the running lake to get a closer view. The lake spanned for miles in both directions and connected to a river, making its color crystal blue and giving it a smooth current.

“Are you sure this is a hot spring? Looks pretty normal to me.” You asked, leaning down to get a closer look but being weary of the boulders edge.

“Yeah look, says right here.” She pushed the brochure in your direction and when you turned your head in its direction, you felt an abrupt tug on your jeans.

Tripping over your own feet, your hands landed on Ellie’s shoulders as your legs entangled together, the only reason your remained upright being because of her. You nearly lost your breath, clutching her biceps in shock and a little bit of fear.

“Woah, careful there. Wouldn’t wanna fall in, darlin’.” She joked, your noses nearly touched until you registered her words and leaned back slightly.

“Didn’t you say this water is dangerously hot?” You whispered, unavoidably flickering your eyes between her green ones and her lips.

“I did.” She couldn’t fight back the mischievous smile that grew on her face as she took your moment of vulnerability and took a large step backwards with you in her arms.

Ellie tightened her arms around your waist as you stumbled into the water with her, the initial spike difference in temperature causing you take an unwanted breath in and sucking in a bunch of water. You pushed yourself off the rocky ground and swam up to the surface with Ellie right in front of you, holding you up by your waist as you choked out all the water in your lungs.

When it didn’t subside once you reached the top, Ellie grew concerned.

“Are you ok-“ before she could finish her question, her head was ruthlessly dunked underwater and water immediately sprung up her nose.

When she rose to the top, her hands never straying from their position, you two were in the same boat. Coughing and laughing.

“Okay, maybe I deserved that.” She said as rubbed the water out of her eyes.

“Maybe? You told me this water could kill me, you asshole.”

Ellie shrugged and drifted her hands lower, resting them under your thighs and pulling you higher up on her stomach, the water giving leeway to her skinny stature. If you were blushing, you wouldn’t know and you hoped she doesn’t either but you couldn’t help but avoid eye contact.

“I thought we were supposed to be on a supply run.” You mumbled, keeping your eyes trained on the soft water flowing by your bodies gently. The cold temperature turning warm from your furnace of a body.

“Actually, this is the reason.”

“What?”

Nervously, she dripped her lips under the water for a second before rising back up and holding her gaze onto your eyes. “The reason I’ve been so standoffish recently is because I was planning this whole trip.” Your jaw dropped. “After you told me about your bad experience at the lake I decided to do something better. For you. Give you a happier time to think about than that.”

She smiled but was met with a splash to the face

“Wh…why didn’t you tell me, you dick. I thought you were…I don’t even know, I thought you were flaking on me after I spilled my guts.” You rambled on but Ellie just laughed.

“That would defeat the purpose of a surprise, genius. Besides, this was supposed to happen later this week but then I saw you hanging my ex and I thought it’d be better to push it forward.”

You blinked, “What? What does Cat have to do with this?”

“She was taking your attention away from me, of course. Can’t have that.” Ellie joked, but you weren’t laughing.

Instead you unwrapped your arms from around her neck and let them fall loose around her shoulders.

“That’s not funny.” She gave you a confused look. “So, you admit you string me around like some lost puppy on purpose? And for what? Personal enjoyment?”

“Hang on, I-“

“Jesus Ellie, I-I’ve had a crush on your for, god knows how long questioning whether you were just naturally this nice or if you liked me back and-and, what? You just do this because you can? Because I let you?” You confessed accidentally, so caught up in your own anger you didn’t realize what you said.

Ellie called out your name and pushed you closer to her chest, making sure your eyes connected so you can see the seriousness in hers. “Hey, stop. That’s not what’s going on, like, at all. I don’t string you along just for fun, not that kind of fun anyways. I do like you, I like you and the love you show me. I like when you follow me around because it makes me feel special to you, I like when you do everything I say because maybe if somebody like you likes me, I can pretend I’m not as useless as I really am.”

“Woah-“

“And I like when you protect me from myself because I’m extremely self destructive and my whole life would fall apart if you don’t love me the way I love you.” She cut you off.

The lake water took a stand still, waiting for you answer as crowds of birds flew by in the sky above and called out to you below. For a minute, the whole world came to a stand still. Just you and Ellie, like always.

“Not as a friends?” You sniffled

She chuckled and looked down before meeting your eyes again, “Definitely not as friends. Unless you wanna be friends that do this.” Ellie tightened her grip around her thighs and waist and pressed her salty lips against yours, distracting herself so badly she nearly forgot to keep herself afloat.

You giggled at the water going up her nose again and how it forced her to pull away to cough. Your hands found purchase around her neck again. “No friends. Just you and me.”

“Anything you want darlin’.” She said in her terrible southern accent.

You rolled your eyes but laughed regardless. “Enough with the accent, I beg.”

“It’s good!”

“It is not!”

I tried to tag people but idk how tumblr works so here we are!👐

[polyamorouspunk]

The first time I ever heard the phrase “pick your battles” was when I was about 12 years old in eight grade. The grade above us was filled with kids who drank and smoked and did drugs and the grade below us was filled with kids having sex in public bathrooms and somehow we were stuck in the middle, reaping the restrictions put on us for crimes we didn’t commit. One of these being that we were not allowed any personal bags in our wing.

Now, if you’re like me, you carry a *lot* of shit. I mean, there’s textbooks, reading books, food, water, phone, pens and pencils, an eraser that actually works, FeMiNiNe hYgIeNe pRoDuCtS, and idk? Random other shit? Too much to reasonably carry from class to class in your arms and pockets.

So my friends and I wore bags. Purses, if you will, though I hated that term because it was a bit too girly for me, and my “purses” came from the military surplus store. In fact, I still have the last one I got from there. Regardless, my point being that we wore personal bags to carry our shit in.

Except that wasn’t allowed because kids *before* us would sneak their alcohol and shit with them in bags.

Now, nowhere in the handbook did it say we weren’t allowed to have bags- trust me, we checked. Our parents helped us take up the cause- us being me and my 2 friends. But our teachers collectively decided we were not allowed to have them in our wing, they had to stay in our lockers. And so we asked: how them are we to transport them outside of our wing if our lockers are in said wing. If we can’t have them in the hallway how can we have them outside the hallway if we have to store them in the lockers in this hallway.

One day my teacher who had a soft spot for us pulled me aside. He told me he knew that I was on a campaign against this, but that sometimes we need to pick our battles. I had never heard of this phrase, so I sat on it for about .5 seconds before saying “then I’m going to pick this battle and continue fighting it.”

I understand now what he means though. We can’t change everything that we want to. There are so many causes out there, so many things that we should be aware of. But we’ll burn ourselves out trying to take them all on ourselves. It’s been said before to pick a few causes you really feel passionate about and focus on those because you can do more for change when you aren’t stretched out thin.

Beyond that, though, I think we need to pick and choose our battles because realistically there are not just things we can win, and at the end of the day some things *are* more important than others.

We live in a surveillance state. That’s clear in a lot of countries, including the US, but that’s clear on a global level. While this sucks, at least here in the US, it really seems like not enough people care to fight it. Hell, people are actively bringing surveillance devices into their homes in the name of convenience. Realistically, overturning our surveillance state doesn’t seem likely. While it’s a battle that’s noble to fight, it’s probably in vain.

But think about when Roe v Wade was overturned. How much outrage it caused. How much outrage it’s still causing. Enough people are fighting that there is hope to rectify it, I think. And when it comes down to it, if you have to pick a battle to “not be surveilled” or to “legalize life-saving medical treatment (again)” one of those seems a lot more pressing and important than the other.

It’s okay to personally put causes on the back burner. It’s okay to not reblog every single “awareness” or “woke” post you see. You’re not obligated to fight every fight. Even just reblogged activism post after activism post can be draining. It’s okay to take a step back, take a break. Don’t forget about these struggles. Keep them in the back of your mind. Maybe go back and reblog them later. But don’t burn yourself out fighting too many battles, especially if they’re losing one. Focus on a few, solid, tangible changes you can make: being kind to strangers; donating goods, services, and money; volunteering; teaching children; etc. and if you have the energy go above and beyond that. You can make a difference just by being kind. You don’t have to fix every single problem. But together we can fix a few at a time.

#long post #tl;dr there are some issues that the majority doesn’t care about enough to make real change and a few people won’t cut it #focus on what’s most important both to you and overall #it’s okay if you aren’t blowing up police buildings you can just be kind and that’s enough #personal

[skyeslittlecorner]

Reminiscent of old times | Young Kings, Gusion

I should write some introduction, but I don't have much to add. Just little children who deserve the world, but the world already chose to give them pain.

~1200 words

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

The room was small, cameral, more like an office. The fate of nations is most often played out in such rooms. Subjects reporting, kings giving orders. Choices and decisions. Reports, laws, official letters. Power, the shackles of power, when you have to send your loved ones to death and watch them suffer because you are the most important pawn in this game.

The four boys sit on the floor. Leviathan moved away disapprovingly, and Mammon watched with interest as Beelzebub tried to command the cockroach to enter Satan's nose as he fell asleep. They had no idea what dark thoughts were going through their teacher's head.

Gusion looked at their homework and sighed. Those math problems weren't difficult. At least the initial were not, because it was exactly what they were learning now. It is true that when he prepared homework in the middle of the night, Guison was so tired that he added the last two tasks from a topic they had not studied. They didn't know how to solve it... but what he got back was at least interesting.

“Oh, Gusion is alive. Get up." Beel elbowed Satan in the chest.

The boy shuddered and looked around unconsciously. He squinted to see what was crawling on his nose, and screamed when it turned out to be a cockroach. Beel cackled loudly, and Mammon gently removed the bug and placed it on his shoulder.

“Now you will be mine.”

“You're acting like brats.” Leviathan separated Beel from Satan, who tried to jump at his throat. “Calm down, I want to get this over with.”

“Leeeviii, he's an idiot!”

“You fit together.”

At that moment, they looked like ordinary children. They had fun, argued and laughed, unaware of what fate would bring them. If it weren't for the powerful aura that emanated from each of them, with their fluffy cheeks and undergrown horns, they could have been running around the streets of the capital with sticks, having fun with other kids.

Gusion finally woke up and spoke in a calm voice.

“I checked your homework.”

Of course, it didn't help. This time the focus was again on the cockroach and the deep discussion of how to dip its little legs into the golden river. Only when Gusion slammed his fist on the desk did four pairs of eyes turn to him.

“Leviathan. You did great, everything was resolved perfectly. I didn't expect any of you would do so well.”

Gusion handed him a paper with the only red color marking a perfect score. There was not a single pencil smudge or additional calculations. Only correct results. The boy smiled to himself, as he was sure that it couldn't be otherwise.

“I didn't teach you this, how did you know how to solve it?”

“There was a textbook in the library. Unlike them, I know what books are for.”

In fact, Gusion recently couldn't find his textbook from which he took the assignments. But how did it appear in the library? Gusion hadn't visited this place for several weeks. Without much thought, he pulled out another piece of paper, maybe not as elegantly written as the previous one, but still in good condition.

“Mammon. All the problems are fine up to the point where there was subtraction or division... I understand that you may have read it incorrectly. In one. But everywhere?”

The boy looked at it with interest, but without much concern.

“I read it well.”

“So what's the problem?”

“Why should I reduce numbers when I can accumulate them?”

Inhale. Exhale. That's not what math is about. Still patiently, Gusion rubbed his forehead.

“Sometimes you have to subtract something to gain more... A bit like a loan. You give something to someone for safekeeping so you can pick up more later.”

“But it's still mine?”

"Yes. It's yours. Someone else is just taking care of it for the time being.”

It's true that Gusion didn't know who would take care of delta for him, but what mattered was that Mammon understood. Gusion had long since stopped explaining equations to Mammon in anything other than money terms. Not because he was stupid. He understood very quickly. If he wanted to. And usually he only wanted something when it belonged to him. Him and Beel were the only ones who didn't question the fact that a certain devil bought thirty watermelons.

“Beelzebub…”

The boy returned the paper a day ago, which was so scribbled that you could barely see the whiteness of the page, let alone the answer. When he get it back, this time marked red by Gusion, there was no trace of the white at all.

“Do I even have to comment on this? Once you get something right, it is related to subtraction, just unlike Mammon. Why?"

“Because if I eat something, it won't be there.”

This time Gusion didn't even try to comment. Beel pursed his lips and decided to defend himself.

“I even borrowed a textbook to learn! But it was terribly boring. I think I left it somewhere.”

So that's how it ended up in the library.

“Okay… Sit down. Satan. You're the last one left.”

The first problems looked good. In fact, the beginning looked the most normal compared to the rest of the boys, the further and more difficult the tasks, the more small mistakes. It only got weird towards the end. The paper was concave from the force of what the boy was writing, and instead of an answer there was a puncture with a pen. Satan was the avatar of wrath. Gusion understood this, the boy got irritated when he failed. And then it got weird, because the last two problems were solved so perfectly and cleanly, as if Leviahan had solved them.

“Will you explain to me what happened?”

“Oh.” Satan smiled broadly and turned to Leviathan. "You were right!"

“Of course I was.”

Gusion felt a twinge of pride. Were they studying together? That's better than he expected.

“Right about what?”

“That there are correct answers at the back of the textbook.”

…and whatever hope there was in Gusion just died.

“Hey! There were answers there and you didn't tell me?”

“No, and I will never tell you because you tried to put a cockroach up my nose!”

Mammon, on the other hand, was nodding in admiration.

“Very efficient use of resources.”

“Everyone get out of my sight.”

They didn't need to be told twice. When the group had already flown out of his office, Gusion went to the window, where he soon saw all four of them in the palace courtyard. Whatever mischief they had planned, they looked carefree. Happily. Young kings who will soon carry the weight of the entire Hell on their shoulders. With power comes responsibilities, and with responsibilities comes suffering. They were young, but each of them had already experienced loss. Learning, fun, friendship. An overlay to the painful everyday life that will soon await them. He might be annoyed that they didn't always take their lessons seriously, but he couldn't stay mad at them for long. In a few years, along with the crowns will come responsibilities. He could only let them taste the remnants of childhood they had left.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb beelzebub #whb mammon #whb leviathan #whb gusion

[bruisedboys]

🧸 — send in a character + a scenario prompt for a blurb!

Congratulations on 2k 🥳 I was thinking about a Grumpy x Sunshine with Tasm! Peter Parker.

thank you for your request babe!

summary: peter comforts a grumpy you when you’re sick of studying

fem!reader 0.6k words

Studying sucks. You’ve had enough of it after about ten seconds, but you keep at it because you have to and because you don’t want to bother Peter, who seems much more inclined to study than you.

He’s sitting on his bed bent over his laptop, the screen light reflecting in his glasses and his hair all messy from where he’s run his hands through it. His posture is awful and you’ve told him so but he always ends up in the same position anyway. You sit and watch him for too long before realising you’ve gotten distracted. Again.

You sigh, long suffering, and turn back to your books on Peter’s desk. You’re picking up your pencil like it’s a chore when Peter speaks.

“Sweetheart,” he says, sounding sympathetic. “That’s about the hundredth time I’ve heard you sigh in the past ten minutes. Are you okay?”

You look up from your books and frown at him.

“No,” you moan, maybe more dramatic than you need to be but this really does suck. You’re bored and you’re tired and you’ve got a headache. And you want to cuddle your boyfriend.

Peter, ever the optimist, offers you a soft smile, tilting his head to one side. It’s so cute you almost stop frowning. “What’s wrong, darling?”

He says it like he can fix whatever’s wrong, like he can solve all your problems and more. You’re sure he could.

“I’m tired,” you mope. “And I have a headache.”

Peter makes a pitying noise that makes your heart stutter. He slides his laptop off of his lap and climbs off the bed, crossing the room in a few quick strides until he’s standing in front of you in your desk chair.

He takes your face in his hands and it’s so nice you could cry.

“My poor girl,” he says sympathetically, his hands rubbing at your neck. He doesn’t frown, rather, he smiles, all big and bright and pretty. He’s got a lovely smile. “Should we take a break, dove?”

You don’t smile because you’re still grumpy, but you do manage to soften out your furrowed brows. “Yeah, please.”

Pete beams, and you’d be jealous of how happy he is all the time if he didn’t look so cute doing it. He drops his hands and holds one out for you to take.

“C’mon then. Do you want to go for a walk? Or should we could order takeout, if you’re hungry. Oh, we could watch that show you like, the one with—“

“Pete.” You grab his hand to stop him listing off more options. You give his fingers a squeeze. “I love you, but I’m too tired to do any of that, baby. I just wanna cuddle.”

Peter’s smile doesn’t waver, because it never does.

“Okay, lovebug,” he says cheerfully. He pulls you out of your chair with ease and leads you over to the bed.

“You know, you could’ve just asked, sweetheart,” he says lightly, tugging you onto the bed with him. He’s smiling big so you know he’s not being cruel. Besides, when is he ever cruel? You’re the one with a short fuse. “I mean, instead of sitting and sighing like I can read your mind.”

You climb into bed next to him, hook one leg over his and throw your arm across his chest. He’s warm, and just as comfortable as you’ve been imagining.

“But you can read my mind,” you say into his chest, only half joking. Sometimes he knows you so well you think he can see every one of your thoughts. Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him.

Peter chuckles, his chest vibrating with the sound, his fingers traversing a path down your back, bumping over the ridges in your spine. It’s so nice you forget about frowning. You smile into Peter’s chest. His hand stops short in between your shoulder blades.

“Are you smiling?” He asks teasingly, even though he can’t see your face where you’re squished into his chest.

“Mind reader,” you say accusingly.

Peter laughs again.

#★ mal writes! #𖤐 2k celebration! #ღ bugboy #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker x you #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker drabble #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker blurb #tasm!peter parker drabble #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter parker fic #peter parker fic #✉️

[imaginespazzi]

Pazzi Drabble #2: Not Yet, Maybe Soon

Words: 933

TW: Light Swearing, Paige's ACL Injury

64 missed calls from Big Head Fudd

paige?

call me back please

are you still at the hospital???? did they do an mri??

hello??

dude?

PAIGE

k i'll just call carol for more info then i guess

please talk to me

just call me whenever ok?

i love you

There are more texts and if Paige closes her eyes, she can picture her best friend throughout the day, hunched over her phone, fingers tapping away frantically. She'd almost texted her back, almost picked up some of the missed calls, and then stopped herself. She hadn't been ready yet. Truthfully, she's not sure she's ready now but the overwhelming need to hear Azzi's voice pushes her to finally call her best friend back. She answers on the second ring.

"I bought a new fortnite skin," Paige blurts out before Azzi can even say anything. It's so random but she knows Azzi will understand why.

"Well at least it wasn't new shoes," Azzi says slowly, "we need to get you a financial consultant or something."

"I have one and I'll have you know he thinks it's an amazing investment."

"Well you should fire him them because investment? Really?"

"You're just jealous," Paige huffs. Bickering with Azzi feels so natural, so easy; she wants to lose herself in the comfort of it and just forget.

"Of your new fortnite skin? Absolutely not," and Paige can feel Azzi rolling her eyes through the phone. It almost makes her smile, almost.

"You're awake pretty late," Paige says after a beat.

"Yeah well, iwaswaitingforyoutocall," Azzi mumbles and Paige's heart flutters.

"What was that?" she asks and this time she does smile.

"Shut up," Azzi sighs but repeats herself anyway, "I was waiting for you to call. Couldn't sleep without talking to you."

Sometimes Paige wonders if Azzi understands the gravity of the things she says, if she understands the way they hit a part of Paige's soul she hadn't even known existed until Azzi. She pencils the admission into her mind's notebook, in a list titled things azzi says that break my heart and fix it at the same time.

"You're such a sap," Paige teases.

"Only for you Bueckers, only for you." and there's mirth in Azzi's voice but there's a touch of of something else too.

Paige pencils this confession into a list titled maybe it's not all in my head, maybe you feel it too.

They fall into silence. There's something comforting about hearing each other breathe, about listening to the sounds of the other's heartbeat. And amidst the calming quiet, Paige finally feels ready.

"Az," she whispers, the rest of her sentence sitting heavy on the tip of her tongue, "I tore my ACL."

The words hang in the air like a thick fog that suffocates Paige. She's known it all day. She'd known it the minute she'd torn it. But saying it out loud is different. Saying it out loud is making it a reality, her reality.

"Fuck," she curses, as the first tear slides down her cheeks, followed by a second and then a third until there's a constant stream flowing down her face, "shit. I tore my ACL."

"Paige," Azzi says, and she's never been one for a fake it'll be okay, not when she knows it won't be, not for a while at least but she hopes, Paige can hear the i'll be here for it all that she wraps around the whisper of her best friend's name.

"I'm not gonna play this season. I barely played last year and now, I'm out again," Paige says slowly, the admissions falling down from her lips like dominoes, "I'm not gonna play basketball properly for almost a year. Fuck."

Paige doesn't really know a life beyond basketball. After her family, everything she had, had come from basketball. The game had given her everything, including the girl on the other end of the phone. As she finally admits to herself that the game's been taken away from her, no matter how temporary it might be, Paige feels lost.

"What do I do," she pleads desperately, "Azzi, fuck, what do I do now?"

It takes Azzi a moment to gather her thoughts, to pry herself away from the misery she feels herself and be strong for her best friend.

"Tonight, you let yourself break," she says finally, remembering something her mother had said during her own ACL injury, "and tomorrow, you start to power through."

"Right," Paige leans back against the backboard, closing her eyes and repeating it to herself, "power through. God gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers."

"And you're the strongest of them all Paige. You're gonna get through this and I'll be right by your side for all of it, " Azzi says firmly, and the promise of it, of Azzi being there, loosens the knot in Paige's chest just a little bit.

"I wish you were here right now," Paige confesses. In the grand scheme of things, missing Azzi is not a new concept to Paige. They'd been apart far more than they'd been together for most of their friendship. But it's different this time and she's not quite ready to give a name to dull ache in her chest that rise every time's she's not around Azzi.

"I wish I was too," Azzi says softly. She means it more than she can ever convey.

There are deeper things, deeper feelings, that they hide behind those wishes. And perhaps one day, they'll have the courage to not hide those three words behind platitudes of friendship. But not yet, maybe soon.

***

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3. Look at me actually living up to a deadline I set for myself! I kinda hate how I ended this but I genuinely did not know how to finish it so whelp. Anyways, I hope that was a good quick read and I promise I will finally write something happy next time. Have a lovely weekend and let's get another W on Sunday!!

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #wcbb #drabbles

[alienzil]

The Red String of Fate Hits a Snag - Chapter Two

Chapter One

“Hey Jazz, do I have a soulmate?”

Jazz looked up from her worksheet at the kitchen table. She was in first grade now and had real big girl homework. “Maybe? Why are you asking about soulmates Danny?”

“Dash said I was a fenturd and stinky fenturds don’t have soulmates,” Danny said with a scowl.

“Don’t listen to him Danny, he’s the one being stinky!” 

“I know!” Danny said with a giggle. He was quiet for a moment, “…but do I have a soulmate?”

“I don’t know Danny….but that’s okay. I don’t know if I have one either and Mom said it’s normal.”

“How do you know if you have one though?”

“Soulmates are more of a grown up thing, you should probably ask Mom and Dad.”

“They haven’t come out of the lab yet…and they locked the door again…” Danny said, breaking eye contact to grab one of Jazz’s pencils and started spinning it around on the table. 

Jazz glanced at the clock. Guess we’re eating cereal again, she thought. Jazz looked back over at Danny who was still pretending to play with her pencil and refusing to look at her.

“Well…I can tell you some and you can ask Mom and Dad more later.” Danny perked up and stopped playing with the pencil giving her his full attention. “Mom said you see what they see or sometimes they can see what you see, like...like a dream except it happens when you’re awake.”

Danny frowned in thought. “When do you see it?”

“When you’re a baby. Oh, right! Mom said that’s why Mommies and Daddies pick out your name before you’re born, so they can say it right away so your soulmate knows what to call you.”

“But Jazz, I don’t remember being a baby! Does that mean Dash was right? I…I don’t get a soulmate?” 

“No! No, sorry. Sorry Danny. I’m not explaining very good. You’re not supposed to remember being a baby. I don’t remember either.” 

“So if you don’t remember your soulmate, how do you find them?”

“You get to do the seeing thing again, when you’re older.”

“But when?”

Jazz thought hard trying to remember, “I think you take turns with the seeing thing. So if your soulmate is a bigger kid they got the first turn and got to see you when you were a baby but if you’re the bigger kid then when they’re born you get to see them, except you won’t remember if you were a baby too. Then you do the seeing thing again when one of you gets to be a grown up then you get another turn when the other one turns into a grown up.”

“So if my soulmate’s the bigger kid I won’t see them until they’re all grown up?! That’s forever!”

Jazz nodded, “That’s normal though, I bet Dash doesn’t know if he has a soulmate either.”

“Dash is older than me, he’ll get to find out about his soulmate first. Stupid Dash always gets to go first.” Danny said, frowning.

“I bet yours is way cooler though. Maybe yours will have a motorcycle.”

“Do you think so?” he asked hopefully.

“There’s no way my baby brother doesn’t have a great soulmate, just you wait and see.”

@avelnfear @asphyxia778 @ver-444

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dead on main #deadonmain #danny phantom #jason todd #soulmate au

[anantaru]

𝗦𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗜𝗠 𝗢𝗙𝗙 !

ꗃꠂꠥ sucking him off while he‘s writing a new song, 4nemo rockstar!au feat. kazuha x fem! reader

ꗃꠂꠥ warnings: nsfw

"Hmm, what do you think?" Kazuha questioned, his attention solely focused on the paper in his hand, scrunching up his eyes in deep concentration while lazily nibbling on the pencil which was held tightly between his fingers. "Oh!" kazuha suddenly beamed up slightly, "I forgot you can't reply!" grinning to himself before his gaze slowly retorted between his thighs where you were sucking him off so fucking nicely. Breathing through your nose and gagging over his cock, drool stained all over your cheeks and coating his dick with both spit and cum.

You can't even remember when exactly you started to pleasure him and how much time has already passed, panties long drenched with your own slick, maybe this time he'll actually please you too, stuff you full with his cock and praise you for once! your sloppy cunt could barely stop fluttering against nothing, so desperate to feel some friction, just something to get rid of the pain boiling in between your thighs. Kazuha could be a real meanie sometimes! because fuck, you were always so good to him, it wasn't fair, consistently making sure he's pleased with you and never disappointing him, ever!

"Hey!" he coos, unhurriedly placing his pencil next to him, reaching over to cup your face with his now free hand, "you're getting slower again silly!" his grip advanced towards the back of your head to push you down further against his length, not stopping before the tip of your nose hit his pelvis. Kazuha let out a broken moan at the feeling of your throat hitting the sensitive tip of his cock. The musky scent filling your nostrils, gagging against his girth while breathing out heavily through your nose. Kazuha smiled once he noticed how perfectly you accustomed to this new position, knowing it's more or less uncomfortable to you. "Just like that." he continues, "you're so good."

He threw his head back, swallowing hard once you began to pick up on pace again. But this time you wanted to try something different, maybe if you're sucking him off really good today he'll touch you a bit! It's been already so long since last time. With that being said, whenever you reached his tip, you slowly circled your warm tongue against the sensitive spot, making the male above you grit his teeth, yet you were able to pull out an angelic moan out of him regardless. He scrunched his eyes shut for a second, sliding his digits into the strands of your hair and pulling you down again, relishing in your tongue expertly wrapping around his shaft so fucking sinfully. He was more than pleased in seeing you take it so seriously now, slowly laying the paper in his hands on top of the coffee table next to him.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful stuffed with my cock." he grinned smugly once feeling your throat close against his tip at his words, humming at you approvingly. "Maybe i should write a song about you, hmm?" letting out a breathy laugh once you nodded hectically over his question. You wondered if he wanted to cum inside of you today, knowing him he'd love to paint your tongue with his seed again, the milky liquid running down your throat made you feel so full at all times, you hoped he'd bless you with it tonight!

The pace of your movements never faltering, you really wanted to make him come undone now, all kinds of liquids, both your spit and his cum drizzling from your mouth to your cheeks and staining your flushed out expression, including his pants which he didn't seem to mind, almost being proud of the splotches that were located all over his boxers.

Kazuha felt how close he was, the climax building deep inside his gut and spreading, it was only a matter of time until he'd release, now starting to fuck your throat The slightly uncomfortable feeling of his hard cock pushing deep inside your throat over and over again made you gag against his length in response, holding onto his thighs for some sort of balance as you let him use you to his hearts extent.

The way he sounded so fucking bitter and desperate to release now, so eager to plunge all of hid warm seed deep inside your throat and make you swallow it all accordingly and only for his eyes to witness and get off to, he was aching to see your fucked out face so badly. Finally feeling his legs twitch under your hands, his cock pulsating and spilling himself inside of you, cum dribbling past your mouth and blessing you with his white liquid, you couldn't be happier right now! He tasted so fucking good, not too sweet but with the right amount of bitterness to it.

"Fuck, fuck." he groaned out whiningly — voice cracking in response — the aftershocks of his orgasm made him see white, rutting against your mouth a few times before pulling himself out completely. "swallow." he coos now, his gaze almost perverted focused on your abused lips. You, of course, doing as he demanded and swallowing down his seed in one go, without leaving anything behind. Kazuha was panting heavily above you, his eyes crumped shut and head thrown back in ecstasy, still lost in his afterglow bliss you could never keep your eyes off. maybe.. after he properly came down from his high, he'll return the favor you &lt;3

ꗃꠂꠥ rockstar!au series.

do not! share, copy or repost my work. ✎ ©ANANTARU 2022

#kazuha smut #genshin impact smut #kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha smut #genshin impact kazuha smut #genshin impact kazuha x reader smut #gi x reader #gi x reader smut #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x you

[aromanticautiesworld]

MARTINER PLS IM BEGGING FOR ANYTHING FERN X READER 😓

Specifically a gn!musician reader who's chill and easy going, (sort of balances fern out/similar to marshall lee) who teases fern sometimes and becomes friends with fern, fern develops a crush on them and gets jealousy of the friendship between finn and the reader and finally gets the guts to confess.

ADD ANYTHING TO THE PROMPT BC YOURE A GREAT WRITER <333

AHGJH THANK U!! i LOVE this req btw im gonna incorporate it into my belief system

////

fern with a musician gn!reader (art by mee!)

word count: 1789

The first time, he met you through Finn.

One lousy sunday evening Finn invited you over (he will often invite people over to the treehouse with no warning), the sky was halfway dark, and you looked like you walked all the way here.

You wore a large case on your back, hair tied up and a pencil slid behind your ear. Slung across your shoulder was a duffel bag which he would soon discover was full of paper (paper is weird to think about. It used to be trees, and he’s kinda related to trees now. It’s not cannibalism yet, but it’s close. Corpse desecration, maybe. He doesn’t feel that strongly about it anyways, nor does he feel very close to the trees, even if he technically is) with scrawled half-written lyrics all over them.

“Anyone home?” You half-yell from the bottom of the treehouse. Finn was out on the deck, doing who-the-hecking-gob-knows-what with Jake.

Fern sits perched from his up hiding spot (you could only see his glowing eyes, if you were looking up). He slithers down the ladder, remaining unseen (he doesn’t want to be. They’re a new person. New people are scary), tail flicking.

When you notice him, you quickly turn around. “Hey,” You squint. “Finn?”

There is a pause as he is torn between opting out of this conversation entirely and actually talking. “Fern, actually.”

“Oh. Cool name,”

“I picked it.”

“My parents gave me mine, but I’m considering changing it.”

“Why would you wanna change your name?”

You shrug, “I like to live my life on the edge. Me n’ your roommate got a jam sesh happening right now, you should join,”

There’s a beat of silence. “…I don’t think I’m invited. Grass boys can’t play the flute. Grass boys can’t even breathe.” Fern crosses his arms and looks down, frowning.

Worry flickers over your eyes, if you blink you’ll miss it. “Hmm…” You look to the side, in thought. “Well, now you are. ‘Grass boy’.” You smile ever so slightly when using the nickname he’s given for himself.

“Hey! Only I get to call myself that!”

“Sure, grass boy. C’mon, he’s probably out on the deck,” You walk to the ladder, gesturing for him to follow.

And, for no reason he can think of, he follows you. It’s like he wants to be around you, which is weird. He usually stops himself from being around people, they either treat him like he is Finn or like he’s the opposite. He’s not either, though.

He picks off a flower from his shoulder. Where did that come from?

The fourth time, you had a BFF sleepover. Fern had crawled onto the outside of the tree, to both not intrude and not do something wrong (it was the worst thing when Jake looked at him like that. He doesn’t want you to look at him like that too). The distant sounds of the Candy Kingdom and Jake lamenting at not winning card wars are all the sounds there are, up there.

Until the sounds of someone crawling onto the roof with him.

He sharply turns, ready to fight off whatever evil was trying to kidnap Finn or Jake (or both) this time. But no, it’s just you again.

“Was Jake too mean in card wars?”

“No, I just lost. They’re playing elimination, I don’t feel like watching the rest.”

You plop down right next to him.

“Y’ever been there?” You look up at the sky.

Fern squints, “That cloud?”

“No, pom-pom. The sky.” (This was a new nickname, made after the discovery of his dandelion tail).

“No. Wait! Yes. Magic man was doing some b-s with my bro, so I had to meet the immortal King of Mars.”

“Then what?”

“He died.”

You snort. It wasn’t an intentional joke, but he gets that weird buzzy feeling again.

“Whoa, poms. You’re like, covered in flowers.”

Finn groans. “Aghh! Again??” He sits up and rushes to brush the reds, yellows and oranges off himself.

He turns to you smiling at him in his flower frenzy, frown heavy upon his face.

“What?” He asks, accusatory, grass puffed up (the image reminds you of an angry cat).

“Nothing. Just you.”

Fern’s tail twitches, he de-puffs and he brings his knees to his chest.

It’s quiet again, you both sitting in comfortable silence.

“We may not have sunshine, or starlight, or weather,

But we've got each other, and that's even better.

You don't need the sun to keep you warm when you've got arms,

Wishes come from you and not a random shooting star.

We may not have storm clouds, but the sky's always blue,

We've got something special here

And what we have is you

What we have is you

What we have is you…”

You look over to grass-boy, asking if he liked it, but you stop yourself halfway. He was asleep.

You brush the stray hairs out of his face, before climbing back off the roof to probably lose card wars again. Such is the tragedy of sleepovers.

Fern would later wake up, and have an important realization.

Fern messes around with his…Finn’s old racecar track toy. He then drops it to the floor.

“I got a question for you, Finn.”

“What’s up, dude?”

“If I…hypothetically…liked…someone… how would I go about doin’ that?”

“You got a crush?”

“No! It’s hypothetical.”

Finn squints at him.

“Hypothetical.”

Finn continues to squint.

“Hy-po-the-ti--”

“No no, I got it.”

“Okay.”

“Well…I would say you tell them how you feel.”

Flowers cover his face again. “Noooooo!! What if they don’t like me back? What if they like someone else?”

Finn shrugs, “Then they don’t like you back. I had a crush on PB for years, she never liked me back and we’re still friends.”

“But what if…”

“Dude.” Finn stops him. “You got this.”

Fern would appreciate his cheering on, but he’s not so sure Finn would say the same thing had he known it was you, or that he’s got this. He knows you like spending time with Finn more than him.

The ???th time (he’s lost count), you invited him along again, with Finn, (and basically everyone else in Ooo, to be honest. It happens when you’re friends with Finn) to a TV night for your birthday. It was an old one you scavenged up, “My Little Pony” or something (his favorite character is Rainbow Dash).

After many weeks of toeing around the idea of asking you out (that time you guys made pancakes, when you went for a dip in the river He’s going to do it tonight.

You sat next to him (close. to him), singing along to the many, many songs over the noise of the crowd behind the couch.

“No, I do not love the groom, in my heart there is no room—” You lean into him and he mumbles along with the lyrics, small smile on his face.

“Finally the moment has arrived! For me, to be one lucky bride…” Finn is also singing. He pauses, staring off into space, before snapping up. “Oh yeah!”

“Hm?” You look across Fern to him.

“C’mere dude, I gotta show you something!”

You get up from his side, going with Finn, and leaving him disappointed.

He follows the duo, though the mild party and to the hallway where Finn was lugging a huge box.

“I got you a present!”

“Oh, awesome,”

“You wanna open it?”

“Hold on,” You pull a pair of scissors out of your pocket. Why it was in there, no one will ever know.

Fern then gets hit by the realization that he forgot to get you a present. How the heck did he think he could just /show up/ to your party without one?

“Oh, Finn, this is so cool! Thanks so much,” You admire the new guitar you’d window shopped for a few weeks ago, which Finn had apparently taken notice of.

“It’s NP, DW about it.”

“Why are you talking in acronyms?”

“It’s a new thing I’m trying out.”

Fern shuffles over to you. “Hey, um, [ ]? Can I talk to you about something?”

“What’s up?”

He lowers his head more. “Can I talk to you about it in private?”

You look back at Finn, then nod and gesture for him to follow into a more secluded hallway, the muffled sounds of dance music vibrating through the walls.

You don’t say anything, and instead are listening intently (terrifying). Fern has to take a deep breath to steady himself.

“I….um….” He begins to fidget with his hands, “I think you’re really cool. And…you’re one of the only people who doesn’t look at me like a monster. And I like hanging out with you and I wanna hang out more and…”

You nod, urging him to continue.

“…andddddd I—”

“AAAAAAAH!” A scream from the party interrupts him.

“GIANT WORM!”

You both immediately run out, to see a monster breaking through one of the walls of your house, jerking around violently as Finn already had his sword around its neck (?).

Fern rushes in, grass sword already whipped out.

He joins Finn on its head (? Again. It’s a worm) stabbing it, rapidly. Its pink blood drips down the side of its face, onto your floor. It begins jerking and twitching even more violently now, trying to shake Fern off.

Finn struggles, and tries to get a stable footing, before the force it’s using to try and get both him and Fern off plunges Finn’s sword right through its neck.

Its head falls right to the floor, Fern still on it, who is still stabbing.

Finn continues to fight the rest of the worm’s body, which has since retreated outside and is currently trying to spit acid at him, leaving barren spots in the grass with only mildly dissolved dirt.

You crouch in front of Fern, putting your hand on his shoulder.

“I think it’s had enough, grass boy,”

He looks up at you, then back down at the corpse-head, and re-sheathes the grass sword.

“What were you saying?”

Feen blinks. What was he saying?

You stare at him, intently.

Oh yeah, absolute fear. “I…..”

“……reallyreallylikeyou. Alotalot.” He snaps his eyes shut when he says it, only opening one a moment later to gauge your reaction.

You knew this already, but you wanted to wait until he was sure of his feelings.“Awww, I like you too! you little pom-pom.” You squish his (flower covered) face.

“Stop it!” He complains.

“Nope, we're partners. You can’t escape me now,”

‘Nooooooooooo…”

“Go Fern! Yeahhh!” Finn shouts from where he stood on the decapitated corpse on the worm, covered in pink blood.

You giggle, before it slowly subsides. “Wait a minute. How am I gonna pay for my house?”

#mariner writes #mariner art #adventure time x reader #fern the human #fern x reader #x reader #THIS TOOK TOO LONG IM SOOO SORRY

[ravangie]

Your style of characters is so beautiful!! How did you learn/develop/practice to draw like that?

Ah!!! Thank you!! 💗💗💗✨✨

Here comes a long rant, get ready

Talking about your own art style is kinda tricky, I feel like to artists it comes as second nature, so one doesn't really see it as a so-called separate "style". Rather they see it as a continuation of themselves in a drawn form (at least i do). But if i had to, i'd say that one's art style consists of two things:

1) What comes naturally.

I look at 5 year old kids drawing and see that each one of then has their own unique style. Already. Without even trying.

I've been drawing my whole life and I never tried to shape my drawing style into a box that I could call "my style". I just let the lines flow naturally and followed where they led me.

I started going to live-drawing sessions again recently and my friend told me that she could see "my style" of drawing that she sees in my digital works in those quick sketches that I make during these sessions. I think that's because when I work on digital illustrations, I don't think about how I should draw this or that. I just do it.

So, practise! With time, the ways you personally draw things will flow to you. When you draw one thing a 100 times you start to notice simularities in all of the 100 different examples, and then you systematize what you've learned and put it to use drawing your 101 drawing. After a while you won't even think about it before drawing them in the usual for you way.

I like to draw freely, not picking up a pencil from paper, with my lines just flowing naturally everywhere that I want them to. And I try to keep that same feeling in my finished drawings (where there is lineart still visible).

Here, found an example of a quick live sketch without any boobies for ya (just to be safe) and a linework for one on my more recent digital works. See how I try to keep the lines alive in the same way. And add highlights where I deem them necessary just for something interesting to the eye.

2) Your inspiration.

Everything that you see and like impacts your style, whether you mean it or not. My friend (other friend) watched Wolfwalkers the other night and immediately texted me saying she could see the inspiration that I've drawn from that movie. And she was right. I am a fan of the artstyle of the whole studio, so it's only natural that i, maybe even unconsciously, took something that i liked from their works and incorporated it into my own art style.

When I asked my friend what exact simularities she saw, she couldn't pinpoint them, she said it's just the vibe that she's getting. And i was content with that answer. Means i didn't copy and paste, but rather interpreted what i liked in my own way.

Also. Very important. You have to love what you draw. You're gonna wanna spend some extra time and add those extra couple of strokes that don't add anything in meaning, but are there to just be pretty. Sometimes those couple of strokes make the biggest difference. I think it's is very important to take time to just sit with your work and listen to what it needs to make it truly finished. A drawing can go from empty and unfinished to fantastic in just a couple of lines.

So. There it is. Sorry for the long answer. Or maybe you're welcome? Anyway hope it satisfies you!💖💖

#maybe some time later i'll make a compilation of my nude sketches if you all are interested #there are some really lovely ones with some fat ladies