#often for a few days. or he'd just eat very little

[crilbyte]

💚🎙️Hunted🎙️💚

~Reader x Human!Alastor🪓

Part 1 𖦹 Part 2 𖦹 Part 3 𖦹 Part 4 𖦹 Part 5 𖦹 Part 6

Summary: Alastor begins picking off Members of the Tully family one by one. Everything is going perfectly until one night when you can't sleep...

Warnings/Promises: 16+, slow burn, abusive relationship, murder, violence, torture, cannibalism.

The look of joy on your face as you eat his cooking makes Alastor want to sing. He did at the dining room table, chin resting in one propped up hand while the other drums little rhythms into the wood. His grin can only be described as whimsical as he watches you eat. Every bite you take makes your eyes sparkle, your smile bigger. Eh barely stand it, the pleased noises you make at the flavor.

It made him positively *ravenous.*

It was curious. He'd only ever felt this way during a hunt before now. He reveled in the fact that you could bring him this feeling. He feels a very long and impactful partnership cementing.

“Am I to assume you are enjoying the gumbo, my dear?” He asks, tilting his head with a grin.

“Oh, *god* yes,” you respond with a moan. “Alastor, you've always been a good cook but this is positively *delicious*. What's the secret?”

*He can feel the life draining from his kill as the blood drains out of its neck and down his arm.*

“It's my mother's recipe,” he says, waving you off.

*The gurgling of final breaths delighting him as fingers grope uselessly at his chest.*

“It's more than that. You've made me gumbo before. This is… different.”

*The pleads for freedom sounding like a familiar tune, one he could hum in his sleep. The way they try to touch on his humanity, as though he'd ever had that to begin with.*

“You're really going to make me reveal my secrets?” He asks, playfully.

*The look in their eyes when they realize they're already dead, that there's still minutes left but they're already past the point of no return. That sudden loss of any hope.*

“If I can,” you giggle. “This is way too good. Whatever it is, you need to do it more often. I swear, I'll get fat.”

*The feeling of a freshly sharpened knife slicing through hot muscle, choosing only the finest cuts for his pot.*

“It's fresh meat,” he answers. “From my last hunt.”

*He licks his blade clean. Only the best for your supper.*

“Can I have seconds?” You ask, batting your eyelashes sweetly.

*The finest revenge.*

“Of course, my dear.” Alastor stands, taking your bowl to the kitchen and ladling out another portion for you. He brings it back, setting it on the table and watching gleefully as you begin to happily dig in.

They had attempted to destroy you. Destroy your life…

It was only fair that now they should help sustain it…

The first two weeks Alastor went out every night. He did research, reconnaissance, and a fair bit of stalking. On the 13th day, ironically enough, Alastor found himself the perfect opportunity. He had been following Reggie, learning his routine. He wasn't a Tully, but he had dared to disclose your location to their filthy sights, so he'd have to go too.

It wasn't even difficult. He caught him on the way out of another speakeasy. The idiot was so blotto that he didn't even have to knock him out to get him back to his cabin. He dragged the sad sap into the woods and into the confines of his shed, the last four walls he would ever see, and tied him down. He’d wanted to take his time with him but it had been so long since he'd last gone hunting that he couldn't seem to hold himself back.

He had made a wonderful jambalaya. His meat lasted a good few weeks.

His next victim had been your darling sister in law. She was especially fun. He'd happened upon her walking home from the shops in the rain. Being the gentleman he was, he offered her a ride. She begged quite a bit, but she stopped after he inquired just how many times you had asked for her help? And what her answer had been? From them on she only screamed and cried. Still a pleasant serenade.

He found great joy in reporting on the string of strange disappearances happening in their quaint quarters of New Orleans. Giving false leads and wild tales of each victim and how they may have gone. It was the best ratings he'd ever gotten. Win-Win.

This song and dance went on for some time, he would pick off once of the Tully's, slowly climbing the tree until he would reach your dear sweet brother in law. He would bring them back to his shed and torture them a bit, making sure they knew just who it was they had wronged, he would wait until they begged for forgiveness and gleefully tell them, “*No.*” Before killing them and butchering their meat for the coming weeks and reporting their disappearance on his show.

Some lasted longer than others, your mother in law lasting almost a month and a half, cow that she was. But it wasn't until he had caught one of your nephews that he ran into any real trouble.

Alastor chuckles as he enters the shed, the smell of blood and sweat immediately filling his nostrils, mingling in a delicious mixture. His eyes fall on the boy, squirming on a makeshift table, his skin pale and bruised, a living mass of pain; he squirms languidly, his legs already gone and harvested. Alastor steps closer, his grin widening as he sees the fear in the boy's eyes, the trembling of his body. He leans down, letting his breath tickle the boy's neck. His fingers slowly play with a piece of a rope that bound him tightly.

"Anything to say for yourself...?" he asks, pulling the gag from his lips.

"Why are you doing this...?" he asks weakly.

Alastor chuckles softly, his breath brushing against the boy's cheek, his voice oozing with a strange sense of charm mixed with danger, intrigue and... affection?

"My dear boy... Why do you think?"

"It's her... it's her fault..." he says with venom, referring to you.

Alastor's facial expression changes, an almost imperceptible flicker of anger in his gaze. His grip on the rope tightens.

"Her?" he asks coldly, slowly leaning closer to the boy. Every word is heavy and deliberate: "What do you know of her pain..."

"She deserved what she got," he spits. "She killed my uncle!"

Alastor's eyes narrow, and she could almost swear they glinted dangerously. His voice takes on an icy edge.

"You dare speak of her as if she were the monster? She defended herself. I'm sorry he didn't suffer more... suffer like you will..." Alastor says, shoving the gag back into his mouth.

The boy pulls at his restraints as you make to carve off more edible cuts of meat from him. Alastor pauses in amusement at the sight of the boy struggling against his restraints, "You're not going anywhere," Alastor says in a matter-of-fact tone, before he continues carving more meat, this time from the boy's arm.

Between the rain and the muffled cries from the boy, Alastor is too engulfed in his work to hear your approach. It isn't until he sees the new source of light in the room that he turns to see you standing there in your nightgown, dripping wet. You hold a lantern in your hand and a mortified look on your face.

"A... Alastor...?" You say in a small voice.

Alastor blinks, surprised by your sudden presence, dropping the knife on the floor with a clatter. He quickly stands up and walks towards you, wiping his blood-stained hands on his apron, trying—and failing—to put on a reassuring smile.

"Ah, you startled me,” he says in an attempt at a light-hearted tone.

Your eyes flash between him and the boy on his table behind him, your hands quivering.

"W-what is this...?" You squeak out. "Who..." You begin to ask before he sees the recognition in your eyes. "Jonny?" You say the boy's name and his heart drops.

Alastor's eyes widen as he realizes that you recognize the boy on the table, his smile faltering. He tries to think of an excuse, but words fail him, his mind faltering at the sight of the fear in your eyes. He moves closer to you, trying to shield your line of vision from Jonny, his body language a protective one.

"No, no," he murmurs softly, shaking his head gently. "I can explain everything."

"Where are his legs!?" you demand, the loudest you’ve been yet.

He can hear the desperation in your voice, see it in you as you tear your gaze away from the horror behind him and look into his eyes. He can see that you're begging him for an excuse, for anything.

Alastor feels a chill run down his spine. He takes a deep breath and places a hand on your shoulder, trying to steady you as he speaks, his mind racing for a believable answer, but can't seem to come up with one.

You look down to the knife he'd just been holding before scanning the shed, seeing all the preserved meat. He watches as the gears turn in your head, as you put two and two together and your eyes widen impossibly further. Alastor can see the realization dawning in your eyes, and he braces himself for your reaction. He tightens his grip on your shoulder, trying to keep you grounded.

"Please, just listen to me," he repeats, his voice softer now.

You look back up at him, your breath coming quicker as you start to hyperventilate. Alastor's eyes widen as he sees the fear in your face, feeling a pang of guilt for putting you in this situation.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," he says, his voice almost a whisper. He tries to pull you into a hug, hoping that it will help calm you down, but you flinch away, tripping backwards and falling to the ground.

"You- you were dressing a deer! You-no-you- o-our stock of meat...!?" He watches you look around the room once more before your hand raises to cover your mouth. He quickly moves to your side, trying to help you up.

"Please, let me explain," he says, his voice wavering.

You quickly turn away from him, vomiting up every last ounce of what was in your stomach. As it slows, you look down to see your dinner from that night, partially digested brisket.

Brisket?

The realization makes you vomit once more, but with nothing left to come up you find yourself just heaving. Alastor's stomach churns at the sight of you vomiting. He feels a deep sense of guilt and shame, knowing that he is responsible for your reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, over and over again. He reaches up with a rag to try and wipe your mouth, to help.

You look down and see the blood soaked rag and pull away, quickly scuttling back and away.

“P-please,” you beg. "Don't hurt me..."

Alastor's heart breaks at your words, the fear and desperation in your voice tearing him apart.

"No, no, I would never hurt you!" he cries out, moving closer to you with his hands raised in a peaceful gesture. "Please, trust me. I love you."

It's the first time he's ever said the words; that either of you has, and it hits you like a freight train. Large tears form in your eyes, rolling silently down your cheeks as you stare at Alastor. His heart races as he sees the tears in your eyes. He moves closer to you, trying to reach out and take your hands in his.

"I love you," he repeats, whispering it this time. He wants to comfort you, to hold you and never let go. "Please..."

You turn quickly, scrambling to your feet before you dart for the door. You slam into it with your whole body and dash towards the woods. Alastor's heart sinks as he sees you go. He knows he has made a mistake. His obsession and possessiveness have taken over and now you’re scared of him.

"Wait!" he shouts after you, rising and giving chase.

Your bare feet are numb from the cold of the night. You don't even notice as they're scraped by the rough forest floor. The tree branches reach out and snag at your skin and nightclothes, making little cuts on your face and arms, little rips in the cloth, but you keep running.

Alastor's breath comes in ragged gasps as he follows you into the woods. He knows he has made a mistake, that his actions have frightened you. He can see as you stumble, tripping over felled branches as you run, desperate to escape him and it tears at his heart. Luckily you don't know these woods as well as he does, having grown up in them, and he quickly closes the distance between you.

Alastor watches in horror as you trip painfully, scraping up the palms of your hands as you try to catch yourself. Heartbroken and full of regret, he quickly closes the distance between you. You look behind to see him only feet away and begin to scramble in an attempt to get away.

"No!" You yell as you crawl along the ground. Alastor's movements are a blur as he launches himself forward, pinning you beneath his body.

"Please..." he begs, holding your wrists down with one hand while the other reaches out to tenderly cup your cheek. "Just listen!"

"No!" You cry out, thrashing in an attempt to escape.

This position isn't unfamiliar to him, Alastor had held prey he'd hunted before like this, the comparison is upsetting to him, not wanting to think of you like that. It's devastating, and he can feel a surge of guilt rising in him.

"Please!" You scream, "Please don't!"

"No, no... I won't hurt you. I'll never hurt you." His heart shatters, your cries of distress and fear piercing him like a knife. He releases your wrists, instead grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into an embrace in a desperate attempt to comfort you, as well as keep himself from causing you further harm. "Stop... please..."

You fight him, trying to break his vice like hold, but it's no use. He keeps you held tight to him until your breathing turns to sobs and you grow too tired to fight.

Alastor clings to you as tight as he can, as if trying to absorb the pain and fear emanating from your sobs. Each breath shakes him with guilt, his body trembling.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean for you to see... Please forgive me..."

Your sobs become wails as you cry into his chest, eventually hugging Alastor back, clinging desperately to him as though he was the only thing left holding you onto the earth.

Alastor lets out a sigh of relief, his body sagging as he feels you beginning to cling to him.

"Shh... It's okay... I've got you." He murmurs comforting words into your ear, rubbing your back soothingly, trying to ease your pain.

You both stay like this, for how long, you're unsure, but eventually you begin to still; sniffles taking the place of your sobs as you begin to calm down. Alastor kisses the top of your head as he continues to hold you close, his fingers slowly working through your hair.

"I've got you, I've got you." He repeats the words, hoping to reassure you as he feels your body relax against his.

"Why..." You finally push out, your face still pressed to his chest.

Alastor's breath hitches as he hears your broken question, his hand freezing on your hair for a moment before he continues to run his fingers through it. His free hand moves to rest on the back of your head, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

"Because they deserve it," he answers.

"What...?" You look up at him.

Alastor's gaze darkens as he meets your reddened eyes, his thumb still gently brushing your cheek.

"They hurt you." He whispers, his voice deep and low. "They condemned you to that monster of a man. They deserve to feel the pain you felt."

You look back and forth between his eyes trying to register if he's telling the truth. Alastor's gaze remains steady, his hand shifting to tilt your chin up so that you're forced to meet his eyes.

"I would never lie to you." He murmurs, the intensity in his voice barely restrained. "You are the most important thing to me now."

You close your eyes and hold him tightly again, seemingly deciding to believe him. Alastor wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer as he feels the tension in your body ease. He rests his face on top of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"I promise, I will always protect you."

The two of you stay like this for another long while before you finally speak.

"You can't..." You say quietly, your voice hoarse from crying. "You have to stop..."

Alastor stiffens at your words, his arms tightening around you momentarily before loosening. He pulls back slightly, enough to meet your eyes again.

"What do you mean?" He asks, his voice strained.

You look deeply into his eyes. "You have to stop hunting them down. Please... for me..." You beg.

Alastor's expression shifts from shock to a deep sadness. He looks away, unable to hold your gaze as he whispers,

“Don't." The air feels heavy with disappointment and despair as he continues, "Don't try to save them. Don't defend them."

"No!" You shout. "No, that's not..." You hit your forehead onto his chest for a moment before looking back to his face. "You can't do this anymore... please..."

Alastor's eyes soften at your words. He brings his hand up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear.

"Then why..." He asks, genuinely wanting to understand.

"You have to stop because..." You breath hitches, "if you get caught... I'II... I'll be..." Your lip quivers.

You'll be all alone again, he realizes. Alastor's hand freezes, gripping your shoulder tightly.

"Don't say that." He whispers, his voice thick with emotion. He pulls you in close, wrapping his arms around you as he rests his chin on top of your head.

"Please... please..." You beg as you cling to him. "I can't lose you, please..."

Alastor's heart aches as he feels your trembling body against his. He tightens his hold on you, whispering soothing words as he promises, "I won't leave you. I promise." He takes a deep breath, knowing that things must change. "I'll stop."

"Thank you..." You quietly sob into his chest. "Thank you..."

Alastor's heart swells as he feels your body relax against him. He gently strokes your hair as he whispers comforting words, promising to always be by your side. In that moment, he realizes that his love for you is more important than anything else.

You curl up into his lap, trembling and not letting go of him. Alastor holds you close, his heart aching at the sight of you trembling in his arms. He gently runs his fingers through your hair and whispers sweet words, promising to never let anything harm you again.

"I've got you, my dear." Alastor stands up, cradling you gently in his arms as he carries you back to the cabin. He walks with slow, steady steps, determined to keep you safe and secure. His heart beats faster as he approaches the door, eager to lay you down on a comfortable bed and hold you close.

He carries you as though you're made of glass, like you might turn on him at any moment, but you don't. You never let go of him, your arms wrapped around his neck, face buried in its crook.

Alastor's heart swells with emotion as he carries you inside and to your room, his mind filled with thoughts of your perfect, vulnerable form in his arms. You don't loosen your hold on you as he sets you into bed, your arms still around him.

“Please, don't go," you whisper. "Don't leave me."

Alastor's heart races as he sets you down, his mind reeling with thoughts of you and your desperate plea. He gently removes your arms from around his neck and sits down next to you, pulling you close.

"I don't plan on going anywhere, but I do need to go take care of..." he pauses, looking out the window, unsure if mentioning it again will upset you more. "Our little problem."

You look up at him and nod. "But you'll come back after?" You ask.

Alastor looks down at you and smiles, his eyes soft with affection.

"Yes, I'll come back as soon as I can. I promise." He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before standing up from the bed and heading towards the door. "And, don't worry, I'll not be too..."

"Cruel to him?" You ask, attempting to finish his sentence.

Alastor pauses at the door, his hand on the doorknob, and turns back to look you in the eye. "Yes. That..." he sighs.

"Don't..." You say, looking down, your hair covering your face as your fists clench the sheets.

Alastor's expression softens as he watches your reaction.

"What... Do you mean?" He takes a step towards you and kneels down beside the bed, reaching out to gently tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Don't.” You let go of your death grip on the blanket and instead hold his wrist, looking up at him with hollow eyes. "Be cruel."

His grip tightens around your wrist, and he leans closer, his face inches from yours.

"I won't. I promise to be kind," he whispers, his voice a low, soothing rumble. He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that borders on desperation.

"No," you grip his wrist tighter. "You misunderstand." You look deeply into his eyes. "Don't be kind. Don't let him go quietly. Be. Cruel."

Alastor's eyes widen slightly, his grip on you loosening. He pulls back, searching your face for any indication of a joke. When he finds none, he narrows his eyes, and his voice takes on a dangerous edge, the corners of his mouth threatening a smirk.

"You want me to be cruel... To him."

You nod. "Make it hurt." You squeeze just a little tighter.

Alastor's eyes flash with a darkness that sends a shiver down your spine. He takes your hand and slowly guides it to his chest.

"You understand, don't you?" he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is what you want? What you need?"

"I didn't ask you to stop because I didn't think they deserve this..." when you look back up at him, your eyes are wide, threatening tears. "I asked because... if you get caught, I'll lose you."

Alastor stillness intensifies, his eyes never leaving yours; that is, until he watches the first tears fall. His thumb moves to gently catch the droplet, brushing it away from your flushed cheek. He lets out a breath he'd been holding but never brings his gaze away from yours.

"You will never lose me," he whispers softly, his thumb caressing your skin. "But you are right. I cannot risk getting caught."

You nod, leaning into him and finding comfort in his embrace. Alastor pulls you even closer. He gently runs his fingers through your hair, and when he sees you sniffle, he pulls out a handkerchief. Alastor carefully dabs your tears away, his worry for you evident in his gaze.

"Ok. Go ahead," you say, trying to calm yourself. "And don't let him go easy... please..."

For a moment, Alastor's eyes flash. He leans in close, his hand cupping your cheek and his breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "Very well. I will make him suffer."

You shiver, your eyes fluttering shut as you lean your head into his touch.

"Thank you..."

Alastor's grip tightens around you. "You don't have to thank me. I would do anything for you." He leans down and presses his lips against your forehead, leaving them there for a moment longer before pulling away and giving you a small, reassuring smile. "You need only ask."

You smile back as he steps away, settling your head on the pillow and quickly drifting off to sleep. Alastor watches you, his fingers lingering at your jaw before he pulls back. He takes one last look at you before turning away and slipping out of the room, a determined look on his face as he moves to carry out your request.

Goils... We got a ways to go... And it's gonna get worse before it gets better.

Art by: @tae_hee_love on twitter

Taglist: @shadowqueen1318 @liveontelevision @honestlyshamelesskid @bad-and-drawn-that-way @lonelynmisunderstood @shcrou-sei @l0liamk @tasha-1994 @cosmiccandydreamer @twizzie-lairs @alastorssugar @cosmiccandydreamer @memoire-du-ciel @looking1016

#alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor smut #Alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor #smut #lemon #sexy #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #mine #hunted #minors dni #minors do not interact #mdni #18+ only #18+ content

[androcola]

1965 timezz

#my art #digital art #m&m headcanon #as we go along #the monkees #uueerrr .eeeuuuuuurrrrrr #uuuurrrrrrrh #i need to learn how to draw food #anyway. i feel like mike had ..kind of a weird lowkey e.ating disorder for a few years (cuz of his dad) #he dealt with tons of guilt about eating food he didnt earn so he had a tendency to just. not eat #often for a few days. or he'd just eat very little #it lasted later into his monkee years but it got better around the late 60's and ariund the mid 70's he gets over it completely #but it was especially bad when he was living with micky cuz he didnt have a job the whole time #so he felt really guilty about not ''earning'' the food micky gave him #he had a not great relationship with food for a while. but he gets better :)

[strangersteddierthings]

Good People - Final Part

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

It is not often that Wayne is happy with the monotony of work. Tonight is one of those nights, if only because it allows him to think about where he went wrong speaking to Eddie. He had never meant to imply he thought Eddie was like Al; he'd meant the apple and tree comment to for Richard and Steve. However, he does acknowledge why Eddie drew the conclusion that Wayne might have thought Eddie would follow in Al's footsteps.

Wayne's being a hypocrite, applying the logic to one boy, but not the other. And even though he never, not once, thought that Eddie would become Al, he'll never be able to take that thought from Eddie's mind that he had. He can apologize until he's blue in the face, Eddie might even forgive him, but he's not sure Eddie will ever believe him. Not truly.

And how could Wayne expect him to?

No. That's a shame Wayne will take to the grave.

Next strike to Wayne's conscious; the misjudgment of Steve Harrington, and how it ties into the fact Eddie accused him of not trusting his judgement, and, moreover, Eddie being right. Wayne hadn't trusted in Eddie's trust of Steve.

He should have. It's been years since Eddie came home crying about a boy, but what father doesn't see their kid crying over their first heartbreak and doesn't grow protective? And with Eddie, it's even more terrifying. Getting mixed up with the wrong boy could mean bruised ribs, black eyes, or worse.

In a town like Hawkins, a boy would just have to claim Eddie made a sexual advance and his murder could (would) be justified.

Now add the manhunt and being suspected of murderer to that. Well, Wayne's scared for Eddie's life almost every minute of his day.

But it's no excuse. Or if it is, it's a poor one.

Wayne doesn't know the full story but he does know that Steve was with the group of people on Eddie's side; that he was there with the Henderson kid, the Buckley girl, and Nancy Wheeler, digging Eddie out of the rubble from the earthquake, getting him to the hospital as fast as they could.

Steve Harrington was part of the group that saved Eddie's life, and that should have meant more to begin with. Instead, Wayne's been waiting for a shoe to drop that very well isn't coming.

He's going to fix this.

He'll give Eddie his space to be angry with him, and he'll try again in a few days.

When Wayne gets home, around 6:30am, Eddie's van is gone. He's not surprised. He probably left shortly after Wayne did, not leaving sooner just to avoid him.

There is a note on Wayne's bed when he makes it there. Says he's at Steve, and instead of letting Wayne know when he'll return it just says the words 'be back' followed by a bunch of questions marks. He ends it with 'call if worried' and leaves a phone number that must be for the Harrington residence.

Another hurt Wayne can't blame on anyone but himself.

Wednesday passes. Wayne eats breakfast, goes grocery shopping, pretends to care about his shows before sleeping the afternoon away to prepare for another graveyard. Eddie has not returned when he wakes, and two short hours later, he's off to work.

Eddie's van remains gone.

Returns from work Thursday morning and repeats Wednesday. He replaces grocery shopping with laundry and cleaning out the leftovers for trash day tomorrow morning. Goes to work.

Friday morning he returns home. No Eddie. He waits for it to be a more appropriate time, a little before 10:00am to call the number Eddie left.

It rings, rings, rings, then, a voice he hasn't heard in years. Richard Harrington's voice sounds as cold as it always was as the answering machine recites, "You've reached the Harrington's. We are not available. Leave a message."

"This is Wayne Munson. I just wanted to make sure Eddie's- that's he's alright. Let him know that I called. Checked on him. He doesn't need to call back but I'd appreciate it."

He hangs up the phone, lump in his throat. He misses his boy, and he wants to make his right, but he can't force that. Eddie has to always want to make it okay between them.

He's usually off Fridays, but he asked to pick up a shift. He can't face Linda without having fixed this. He spends the morning and afternoon doing all the small fixes he'd been putting off. Anything to keep him busy. He goes to sleep at his usual time, and wakes up two hours before his shift like normal.

Check's his answering machine but if anyone called while he was asleep, they didn't leave a message. There's still no van when he heads to work.

The plant tells him to leave an hour early. He tries to argue to stay but he's just waved off, told to go get some sleep because he's been looking a little worse for the wear.

He gets back to Forest Hills around 5:40am and finds there is another car parked at his home. Not Eddie's van, but the sleek maroon BMW that belongs to Steve Harrington parked where the van usually is.

When he pulls into his spot, the headlights of his truck light up Steve, sitting on his steps, wrapped in a coat. It can't be more than 50℉ outside right now.

Steve stands as Wayne cuts the engine and climbs from his truck. He gets to the front of his truck and Steve speaks.

"Eddie's okay," Steve says, hands shoving deep into his pockets, "I tried to get him to call you back yesterday but, well, you know Eddie."

Wayne nods, because he does know Eddie. "I appreciate you tellin' me. But you coulda just called."

"I could have."

They look at each other for a moment, and just as Steve opens his mouth, probably to tell Wayne he's going to go, Wayne speaks first, "you wanna come inside and have a cup of coffee to warm up?"

Steve tilts his head slightly to the left before he says, "are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright," and then Steve steps away from the stairs so Wayne can climb them and let them into the trailer. Steve follows behind silently but with familiarity. He's spent so much of his time here since spring break- the shame crawls through Wayne again. He'd assumed, once upon a time, that Eddie and Steve spent more time here than at Steve's because why would Steve want the trailer park boy in his big fancy house? Now, though, he wonders if it's because this place felt more like a home, even with Wayne's cold shoulder.

Steve sits at their little kitchen table, a luxury they didn't have before because there was no room in the single wide, one bedroom they'd had before. The new double wide (with three bedrooms) offered them a bit more space for a dining area.

Wayne's still suspicious of the government's offer to replace their destroyed home, but he wasn't foolish enough to deny the offer when it was made to him by Jim Hopper (newly returned from the dead back then).

"How do you take your coffee?" Wayne asks, once the machine finishes filling the carafe.

"Oh, I can fix it-"

"Nonsense," Wayne waves him back to sitting, "just tell me."

"I like it with just enough milk to take the scalding heat out of it," Steve says, and while Wayne's not sure just how much that it, he tries anyway.

He sets a cup in front of Steve before taking a seat across from him. "I really do appreciate that you came to tell me Eddie's okay. I want to give him his space but...."

Steve sips his coffee before shooting his cup a small smile. Wayne must have got the ratio right. Then, he looks to Wayne and the smile drops, a more serious expression taking its place and he says, "Eddie wouldn't really tell me what your fight was about, other than, uh, me and that you... overheard some of what I said last time I was here. I don't, like, want to come between you and Eddie, but I'm not, I'm not going to let you scare me away. So, just tell me what I have to do to get Eddie to believe we're cool, and I'll do it. Anything, except for getting out of Eddie's life. 'Cause I won't."

"I would never ask you to do that," Wayne says. Steve squints at him, a look of suspicion now. Completely warranted, given what Steve has known of Wayne thus far. "I owe you an apology, Steve. For how I've been treatin' you."

Steve's eyes go wide, "Oh. What? Why?"

"You've been nothin' but good to Eddie. For Eddie. And I refused to see that. I made a judgment about you without knowin' anything but your name." Steve let's out a soft 'oh' at that, but Wayne plows on, "And that weren't fair, and it weren't right. I can't undo it, but I want you to know I regret it. I'm sorry."

"Okay," Steve says, after a moment. "I forgive you."

It's Wayne's turn to be surprised. He's a bit speechless. So much so, he takes a page right out of Eddie's book and asks, "are you sure?" which is a question he's never asked after having an apology accepted before, but one Eddie had asked a lot when he first came to live with Wayne, and they were learning to co-exist.

"Yeah. I get it."

He doesn't like that answer. Doesn't like the he contributed to the mind set that gave Steve that answer. "You're allowed to be mad at me for it."

"I think Eddie's mad enough for both of us."

It doesn't feel like closure. It doesn't feel like forgiveness, but Wayne doesn't know what to say. He can't just start sprouting all the bad things he thought about Steve; there's no reason Steve should have to listen to that. But without hearing it, Steve doesn't even know what he's forgiving Wayne for. "I'll be honest with ya, Steve. It feels like you shouldn't."

Steve frowns at him. "Why?"

Why? Why? For all the reasons Eddie yelled at him, and all the things Linda said, and all the agony he's felt these last few days. The guilt and the shame that still eat at him, even as Steve Harrington says he forgives him. "It's too easy."

Those three words have Steve leaning back against the chair. His eyes dance around Wayne's face before taking in the whole of him. Or, what Steve can see of him with from across the table. When Steve meets his eye again, Wayne sees recognition there. "If you can't forgive yourself, I get that. I do. I-I've spent most of my life as one big apology. And I'm not saying that I, like, don't still feel like- what I mean to say, is that, I forgive you. I'm not, like, gonna hold it against you that you were just trying to look out for Eddie, man. Like, two years ago your fears would have been justified, so."

"Don't make it right," Wayne argues, but he doesn't know why.

"No," Steve agrees, "but I'm forgiving you anyway. You think you're the first person to hear the name Steve Harrington and assume you know everything you need to know about me already?"

Steve's words sound like they could be confrontational, but his tone is light. Teasing? Wayne says, "no. Suppose I'm not."

"Every person I love has done that," Steve says, and the ease of which he says that has Wayne feeling some sort of way. Eddie's words echo in his mind 'you made me help him feel that way'. How many other people have made him feel like he's a bad person? "Even- even Eddie. He made a point, during spring break, to, uh, well, he didn't apologize for anything because there was nothing to apologize about, but he made a point to tell me I was very 'metal' and a 'cool dude' so.... I know my name comes with, like, a shadow or a curse or whatever. I think it will for as long as I live in Hawkins, but that's," Steve flaps his hand in the air, as if that fills in for the word he can't find, and it's a move so reminiscent of Eddie. "Anyway, if you aren't actually, like, ready to accept an apology, you shouldn't be making one."

Wayne sits in that for a moment. There's a lot more to Steve Harrington than he'd ever thought. So much he doesn't know, actually, but he thinks he's okay with learning more. This boy told Eddie he was half-way in love with him earlier this week, and while Wayne never heard Eddie say it back, he knew anyway. It's why he was so protective. "You're pretty wise for your age."

Steve grins and shakes his head. "Nah, that last part was all Robin. She says it all the time to me."

"Well, then you best stop apologizing when you ain't ready to accept the forgiveness," Wayne parrots back the words.

Steve throws his head back and laughs.

They finish their coffee with silence and small talk. Steve tells him about how he never thought he'd miss his job at the video store but working at Melvald's is making him long for the days when the biggest complaint was late fees. Apparently, there's so many more things to complain about in retail.

Wayne talks about working at the plant and how the tasks are repetitive and a bit labor intensive, but the graveyard pay is worth it. Steve asks him a few more questions about working at the plant that Wayne's happy to answer and the more Steve asks, the more Wayne becomes aware that Steve might be looking for a change of occupation. He makes a mental note to put in a good word to Floyd, just in case.

Steve leaves with the promise of returning with Eddie, as soon as possible. As he was heading to the door, Wayne asked why he showed up so early.

"Eddie can't stop me if he's not awake," was Steve's answer, a mischievous grin on his face.

Wayne watches from the porch as Steve backs out. Steve shoots him one last little wave with his fingers before heading away.

He goes back inside and washes the dishes. Even dries and puts them away, a feat usually done once a week; he and Eddie have no qualms with using dishes directly from the dish drainer. His only other chore for the day is leaving for work a bit early so he has time to stop at the gas station and fill up the truck.

Grabbing the remote from its spot on the coffee table, Wayne plops onto the couch to spend his day as mindlessly as possible with some TV.

He goes to sleep at his usual time and wakes up at 7:43pm according to his alarm clock; a little over two hours before his shift is to start. It's time for more coffee, he thinks as he dresses for work before heading to the kitchen.

He jerks to a stop when he sees Eddie and Steve sitting on the couch, leaned close and talking softly. He's not about to repeat a past mistake, so he makes his presence known. "Evenin' boys."

Eddie pops up from the couch quick as lightning, taking a few steps towards Wayne before stopping. "I don't like being mad at you."

Wayne nods, "I don't much like you bein' mad at me, either. For what it's worth, I am sorry."

Eddie closes the distance between them, then, and pulls Wayne into a tight hug. Wayne returns it instantly, how can he not? He hears Eddie say, softly, "it's worth an awful lot, you terrible old man."

They part, and Eddie speaks first, "but if you ever pull shit like this again, I won't be so quick to forgive."

"I won't," Wayne says, at the same time Steve says, "he won't."

Both Munsons look at Steve, who grins back at them.

"You think you know my uncle that well already, from one shared cup of coffee?" Eddie asks, sounding amused.

Steve shrugs, "no. I just, uh, plan to stick around, y'know. Kinda hoping there's no dude after me for him to be an angry dad about. I would appreciate it, though, Mr. Munson, if you'd skip the shovel talk bit of all this?"

Eddie sucks in a breath and Wayne's a bit shocked by what Steve's implied. What Steve's admitted, really, out loud in front of another person. Wayne wonders if any boy Eddie's ever liked before would have done that.

"What good's a shove talk when you've already told me you ain't goin' anywhere?" Wayne says, hoping his tone is as light and teasing as he wants it to be.

"Glad we're on the same page," Steve agrees, "but, uhh, do you want me to go? So you can have a real talk?"

"No," says Eddie.

"No," says Wayne, at the same time.

"Oh. Okay. Uh, in that case, you got anything to drink here besides coffee?"

Wayne nods and they all pile into the kitchen to get a beverage before settling in the living room. There will be time to talk later, Wayne realizes. He's going to apologize properly.

Later, though, when he'll really be ready to accept Eddie's forgiveness, because there's no doubt Eddie'll forgive him. So, he's going to sit in the living room and chat with his boys until he has to go to work.

By the time Friday comes around again, he'll be able to tell Linda she was right, everything's going to be okay one day, and maybe ask her on a date he's been putting off asking for since high school.

Done!! I hope the ending is sufficiently cheesy.

I'm so sorry if I missed you! There were a lot of people asking to be tagged haha

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @kaij-basil-lionelli88 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @mugloversonly @limpingpenguin @krazyperson @acrolius @salisbury-at-the-stake @littlebookworm86 @savedbytheirmusic @wxrmland @myownworstenemyyy @thelittleclare @awkotaco24 @djohawke @wrenisflying @croatoan-like-its-hot @actualwakingnightmare @krowepoison @jamieweasley13 @yourmom-isgay @irregular-child @oldwitcheshat @abstractnaturaldisaster @wishiwasacasualfan @vinteraltus @zerokrox-blog @warlordess @stevesbipanic @steveshairspray @slowandsteddie @samsoble @waelkyring @just-a-tiny-void @saramelaniemoon @halfadoginatank @nightmareglitter @scarletyeager @hellfireone @rovia2312 @munsonslure @a-little-unsteddie @soaringornithopter @eddiethehunted @starlight-archer @dryptid @inkjette

#steddie #my fic #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne pov #was this resolved on a quicker timeline than makes sense for men in the 80s? #maybe. but i dont care because if i wanted realism i would be asking my dad about the gripes and grudges he holds against his dad #(he was a teenager in the 80s) #but i wanted soft munson family vibes so you are all welcome for that #also please know that eddies not magically over it. #it's been four days of steve pestering him and reminding him that wayne loves him and he loves wayne #sorta edited. if u see a mistake no you didnt #OH NO I FORGOT THE READ MORE IM SO SORRY. added now

[dragon-chica]

"I Want To See My Little Boy!" Batmom

I ALMOST did angsty on Damian's. I almost did. But I'm not.

It's a time honored tradition that if Batmom calls for one of her children, one will be received.

Dick Grayson

It first started with Dick.

The mansion had gotten much more lively since his arrival, but at the moment, it was far too quiet. Moreso than you're used to in the past few months, and even if you were peacefully reading, it feels far too quiet without the small boy's talking, or humming, or singing, or general noise just being in your company.

You set your book down, glancing around the otherwise empty room with a displeased hum.

"I want to see my little boy!" you said loudly, voice carrying out of the room. You felt foolish, it was random and you didn't know what you expected out of it, but before you thought too much, you could hear the patter of small feet running down the hallway.

"I want to see my little boy!" you call again, a grin now on your face hearing him almost at the door.

He slides in, sock covered feet skidding him a good eight feet past the door on wooden floor.

Dick's smile is one that could rival the brightest sunshine, eyes closed and crinkled with joy and his arms stretched up as if to say "ta-da!"

"Here he is!" he sees you sitting on one of the couches and somehow his grin still widens at seeing you. His pace quickly picks up again, fully launching himself off the floor and into your arms, laughter bubbling from him as you return his hug with glee.

"My little boy" you coo as he can't stop laughing yet, making himself perfectly at home on top of you and your book.

Jason Todd

P.S. Jason is a tiny little child and you are strong.

It had been years since you had called your little boy, it had been years since you had a little boy to call to. Even if Dick did humor you doing so well into his teens. (he got quite a kick out of doing so, and always threw his full weight onto you for a hug each time.)

When you got Jason it wasn't really something that had been on your mind, it was just something you did with Dick that you figured was over as he grew up.

Jason was sat on top of his covers looking through his homework. It wasn't a great day, nothing especially bad but after greeting Alfred when he got home he'd gone straight to his room, quietly closing his door and wishing the day would be over sooner than later.

What Jason didn't account for, and never would expect, was for you to have seen how downtrodden your little boy looked getting home and decided to bring a plate of Alfred's cookies up after him.

When you see his door partially open, and a sad little boy emptying his backpack you set the cookies on his dresser and just wish there was some way to cheer him up.

You knock on his door once to alert him, and as he looks up Jason finds you with a big smile on your face and arms open towards him.

"I want to see my little boy!" there's an infection energy in your tone and you surge forward, lifting him beneath his arms and tossing him lightly in the air with a flourish.

"I want to see my little boy!" you repeat, catching him in a hug and twirling you both around, Jason's laughter fills the air as he swings around in your warm hold.

"I'm here! I'm here!" the words are blurred with laughter and it takes you both a minute to calm down enough to eat your cookies, but not without squeezing him in another hug before you let him go.

Tim Drake

Being honest, it was unfair how you were around Tim at times.

You were miserable, very much depressed and hated that at times you couldn't hide it. Being too quiet and letting your mask slip at times, and you hated Tim seeing that.

Little Timothy, a sweet and bright boy who you adored and always tried his best to cheer you up when he noticed your sadness.

And he did, Tim helped you so very much and could make you smile on a terrible day.

Dick also tried to cheer you up. Often coming to the manor to spend time and keep you company.

It Occurs to him before it occurs to you, he remembers how much fun he would have whenever you called out "I want to see my little boy!" how he would come running from anywhere into your arms. He also remembers the first time he saw you go after Jason the same way, the small boy's giggles and a joyful squeal being scooped into a hug.

You're not doing much when Dick calls you. It's a quiet day and you're in the kitchen debating doing anything when his face shows up on your call screen.

"Hey ma! Tell me real quick, do you want to see your little boy?"

"Huh?" You're confused, Dick hasn't done that in years, and you're not quite sure if you could handle him tackling you anymore.

"C'mon, c'mon, tell me you want to see your little boy!" You can hear the pep in his voice and a confused commotion behind him, you think he might have switched on speaker when it suddenly gets louder.

"I want to see my little boy?" You phrase it as a question, but it doesn't take more than seconds for the large kitchen doors to swing open, Dick holding little Tim below his arm and swinging him upright in both hands offering him like the lion king as he runs around the kitchen, small boy yelling in protest.

"Here he is!" They finally stop in front of you, Tim looking rather distraught and ruffled, hoodie bunched struggling in Dick's grip, who has a large smile giving you your prize. You wouldn't be surprised if he'd just grabbed poor Tim off the ground and ran with him here. Actually, you'd bet that's what he did.

You snort, Tim looks like a very scraggled kitten in Dick's arms, being swung back and forth a little in front of you for a reaction. You smile, opening your arms to catch him and Dick eagerly drops the poor boy onto you for a hug.

"Here he is." your words are muffled against the collar of his jacket hugging him, and Dick decides to join in, this time lifting you both from off the floor in the hug and laughing at your surprised squawk and Tim's further complaint.

Damian Wayne

Damian HATES this. With a burning passion, spewing death threats and curses to fill his swear jar every time it happens.

And it happens far too often for his tastes.

It happens at least once every time Grayson stops by, it happens every time Jason decides to grace the manor with his presence, Roy Harper even once had the nerve to join in on their 'imbecilic fun' when feeling especially bold once.

His father, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, even betrayed him by doing it once because "he wanted to see you smile". A ridiculous reason, not justified, and may or may not have put his father toward the bottom of his list of 'lifelong enemies'.

But he can't fault his father's reason. You did smile. Rather brightly at that. And while he wont say being swung around indignantly and "looking like an angry, murderous little kitten" as his brothers have called it, is worth his suffering, he does receive a hug each time and grumbles quietly before returning it.

The first time it happened to Damian is certainly memorable for everyone at the manor.

You had never expect Damian to join in on your boys' "I want to see my little boy!" tradition. Though all your other sons found great fun in doing so, all in their own fashion and happy to answer you call for company and a hug, despite how much Damian as grown in your time with him, you did not think this would be a line he would cross.

And he didn't, willingly.

You also figured if anyone tried this with him, it would've been Dick. Not only had he tossed airborn Jason and Tim at you in the past, but he was one of the few people Damian tolerated to a moderate extent, liked, even.

So when Jason came running down the hall with a screaming, murderous Damian flailing in his grip while held at arms length yelling death threats and promises of pain, it grabbed everyone's attention.

"Ma say you want to see your little boy! Ma say it quick!" It's urgent as he tries to dodge a swift kick without dropping Damian, leaping over a couch toward you as you finally snap out of your shock and laugh breathlessly.

"I want to see my little boy!" You can hardly contain yourself at how ridiculous and wonderful it is as Dick narrowly swipes a lamp out of Damian's grip just in time.

"Here he is!" Jason quickly dumps him onto your waiting arms, you hurriedly wrap him in a hug before he can lunge at Jason with fury.

Once Damian realizes it's you who's holding him back, both arms wrapped around his chest and trying to hide your snickering in his jacket, entire body shaking in effort, he slumps. Looking even more like a disgruntled little kitten accepting his fate. He can't risk hurting you, to kill his idiotic 'brothers', but he certainly wont admit he doesn't mind your hug either.

Tim managed to get the whole thing on camera, his sniggering in the background the entire time. It's one of your favorite family videos.

This is not a rare occurrence. In fact, anyone with the guts to try it (a few friends who may or may not have been dared into doing so) have brought you your little boy against their own safety. Damian is just so small, and carry-able.

#batmom #Batfam #DC comics #DC x reader #DC imagine #Batboys #Batboys x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #Jason Todd Is A Mama's Boy #<- my Jason tag #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #my stuff

[matrixbearer2024]

Ahhhh I hope you take in smutt requests cause I got an idea 🙏

Vox eating out the reader while they are sitting on his face <3 but suddenly his screen cracks

Smutt turned funny or smth hihi

Also would be very fun if reader was afab but like with gn pronouns

Glass Breaks

Vox x gn!afab!Reader

NSFW WARNING HERE! MINORS DNI!

A/N: I've seen some posts going around talking about Vox and an S/O that had some... mishaps- during a face sitting session and I am LIVING for it. Granted I wrote this really late so I don't know if it'll be any good or if Vox is a little OOC but I hope you enjoy it anon!

Vox had a pretty rough day.

Dealing with his company, reporters, the other Vees-

He wanted nothing more than to just collapse in your arms and forget the day's stresses.

Instead, he came back to an extremely sexy surprise.

He'd taken his coat off, hanging it by the door as he strolled in and looked for you.

The dead silence was quite rare when it came to you.

Hell, he expected you to just be waiting by the door with your arms outstretched for a hug as always.

But the second he'd opened the bedroom door, Vox quickly wished he'd done so sooner.

You were laying on his bed in some lingerie, a sheer robe leaving nothing to the imagination.

Not that he was at all complaining!

Vox couldn't tear his eyes away the second he stepped in.

You knew he was entranced, the tech overlord often was when you gave him surprises.

Wholesome ones or not.

It also went without saying that you loved tempting him.

So definitely his libido shot through the roof when you teased him further, making a "come hither" motion that had your beloved's screen overheating.

Va Va VOOM BABY-

The fans in his head quickly kicked on to high gear as a blush quickly settled on his face.

Despite that, an eager smile wormed onto his face as he made his way over to you.

Not willing to let just anyone stroll in however, accident or not, Vox of course locked the door.

"Tough day~?"

"If I get to come home to this? Makes it all worth it."

You cooed as your neck was peppered with gentle kisses and nips.

It wasn't rare for Vox to be this soft with you in bed, but you garnered it was probably because he was tired.

Oftentimes if he needed to release stress he'd just fuck you silly into the mattress no matter what you were wearing.

You were kind of expecting the same today really, hearing his ranting over the phone just a few hours prior-

Even so, this wasn't too far fetched of a scenario either.

On the other hand, if he was tired?

He would just service you until you were sated.

Then you both could have a passionate round two in the morning.

You exchanged gentle kisses with Vox while he did away with your clothes.

His claws carefully grazing your skin as he groped so he wouldn't hurt you.

A shiver ran up your spine as one of his claws rubbed against your slit.

Your panties even gained a damp spot from all his ministrations.

Vox only chuckled at the revelation, pulling away from the kiss to gaze at your flustered expression.

He loved making a mess of you, it was extremely fun and exhilarating knowing that only he could do this to you and nobody else.

Leaning over to whisper in your ear, his claws gently caressed your sides.

"I wanna try something, follow my lead?"

"Of course."

And that's how you found yourself in this current situation.

Sitting on your boyfriend's screen while he voraciously ate you out.

Vox honestly couldn't even get enough of your moans.

You cried his name out so much he wouldn't dare forget it now.

His hands held down your hips while his tongue worked wonders.

He was just totally drowning in you when you sat on his face.

Why didn't he think of doing this before?

Usually he'd be above you if he was giving oral but honestly this works too.

Of course- there was a really good reason why you shouldn't be sitting on his face.

Which was further proven when you heard a small cracking sound before losing yourself in the throes of passion.

Both of you froze in shock from the sound before you slowly got off Vox and your suspicions had been proven right.

His poor screen had a crack running along the edge where you were leaning most of your weight.

Your beloved only raised a hand to feel his screen to confirm what he'd been guessing before groaning in frustration.

Vox just promptly wrapped himself up in a blanket cocoon annoyed and embarrassed.

So much for that, not to mention the mood was gone.

You couldn't help but giggle at just how random it all was.

Oh well, it just wasn't meant to be.

That didn't help Vox's grumpiness at all.

"It's not funny doll."

He tiredly muttered, you didn't think he'd be so defeated by such a small thing.

Then again, maybe it wasn't exactly a small thing for him.

You shifted closer to your TV lover and lightly tugged at the blankets until he looked at you.

His eyebrows were pressed together in what you could only describe as annoyance.

Though it quickly dissipated when you started just lightly leaving kisses all over his screen.

Being mindful of the cracks that you inadvertently caused of course.

"Wh- Wait- (Y/N) what are you- mmPHF-"

You quickly shut him up with another sweet kiss, pulling away to gently stroke the side of his head.

"It's okay hun, really. We tried, and well- now we know why you're not supposed to sit on a flatscreen TV-"

Vox half-heartedly groaned at your attempt at hilarity, flipping you both over and tickling you in retribution for such a poorly landed joke.

Your joyful laugher was more than enough to sweep away his annoyance and irritation at his hardware durability failing.

Afterwards, he held you close for cuddles until the next morning where he'd inevitably have to go and get his screen repaired.

Though that was trouble for tomorrow's him to deal with.

Bonus:

Valentino wasn't the only one who noticed the condition of his colleagues' glass screen during a meeting.

Well it's not as bad as it could possibly be, but a cracked screen was a cracked screen.

"Geez, what happened to you? Did you get into a fight with the missus yesterday?"

"Uh... something like that."

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox smut #vox #Hahahahahaha I loved this prompt #It's lowkey kinda dumb #I love me a soft Vox #this is why we use screen protectors folks!

[hitomisuzuya]

UR REQS R ON YAYYAYA :')) I loovee ur writing sm I've been meaning to request a scenario like brothers best friend scara x yn smut where scara comes over to hang out w ur brother but then sneaks off to our room?? Have a good day 🤭

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Modern AU. Fingering. Scara being a horny, sneaky little shit. Choose your own drink here, guys. For the sake of smooth narration I just put my choice.

He can sneak off to my room anytime😳🥰

Scaramouche couldn't lie and say that he didn't have an agenda in hanging out with your brother as often as he did. He'd had you in his crosshairs for awhile now. You both had made eyes at each other numerous times, and he'd gotten handsy with you a few times in passing in the kitchen or the hallway. His fingers always just barely started brushing and groping on your skin before an unwelcome intrusion interrupted him.

Tonight though, he more than noticed that you weren't wearing a bra underneath that clingy shirt, your legs exposed to him by those tiny black shorts. Legs that would look better wrapped around his head while he ate you out.

Your brother was pretty invested in the video game he was playing. How very convenient for him. He didn't even notice when Scaramouche left the living room and headed upstairs, making a beeline right for your room.

Your bedroom door was open a little bit. Scaramouche tapped it open with the knuckle of his finger. You were stretched out on your bed, scrolling through something on your phone.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the way your breasts bounced when you suddenly sat up to greet him. "H-Hey, Scara," You said shyly, your heart pounding.

It was inevitable that you would develop a crush on one of your brother's friends. Scaramouche was that friend. It had taken you hours to get up the courage to leave your room and walk by him without a bra on to get his attention.

He flopped down on the corner of your bed, snatching your phone out of your hand. He held it above his head so you would have to really reach for it. You would have to get in close to him that way.

"I would've brought you one of your gross strawberry daiquiri drinks from the fridge, but I didn't want to taste sugary crap on your mouth when I kiss you," He said, cutting off your protests, "and Twitter is a bunch of nonsense anyways," He tossed your phone to the other side of your bed.

"I..Huh?" You froze. You were clearly flustered and Scaramouche was eating it up. You were in your room alone with him, he'd noticed something so little as what you liked to drink and he said he wanted to kiss you.

"Hmmm?" He purred teasingly, putting a hand on your shoulder as he leaned in towards you. The blush on your cheeks darkened. When you didn't push him away, he took that as consent.

His lips captured yours in a hungry kiss, parting your lips with his tongue to explore your mouth as he pushed you down onto the bed. You moaned into his mouth, melting into the kiss. Pulling away, he sat on his knees between your legs, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

"You want me too, don't you?" Scaramouche teased, brushing his fingers over your stomach. You nodded. "Yes," You couldn't deny it. It was written all over in the way your body was reacting to him.

You sat up so he could tug your shirt over your head. He unbuttoned your shorts before taking off his shirt, his hand immediately folding over one of your breasts. God, he'd wanted to grope your breasts all night.

His fingers pinched and flicked your nipple, tracing the tip of his finger slowly around it. "Look at you squirm," He taunted, soaking in every eager moan from you as his hand trailed down your stomach and into your shorts.

Waves of pleasure made your clit throb and your panties soak as he cupped your cunt, his fingers prodding and rubbing your swelling clit outside of your panties. "Mmph-please--" You moaned, moving your hips up so he could dispense with your shorts.

You moved your panties aside, seeking friction from his fingers. Scaramouche licked his lips scooping your slick to coat his fingers. "Go on, slut. Fuck yourself on them," He scissored your walls apart as you rolled your hips up.

He stroked and palmed his cock, watching his fingers slid in and out of you. You were making the cutest expressions as you fell apart for him. Your walls clenched tight around his fingers, your moans sounding shameless as he curled them over your sweet spot.

Scaramouche made no move to try and make you be quiet. It was very evident he didn't give a shit if your brother heard him impaling you in his cock. "I don't have to ask to ask you to beg for it, do I?" You shook your head, rubbing your clit for him once he pulled your panties off and did away with the rest of his clothes.

"Fuck me, please! Please, Scara, please," You pleaded, earning a praising smack on your clit. You yelped in pleasure, you legs shaking while you quivered with need.

Scaramouche took his cock and hastily lined it up with your sopping hole. "Fucking take all of it," He groaned, pushing his cock inside of you with a fluid snap of his hips. "You are all mine now," All his to fuck, love and enjoy.

He pounded his cock inside of you, his body shuddering in pleasure as it throbbed between your clenching walls. He bullied his cock into your sweet spot until your body was twitching from the tell tale signs of being close to your release.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty cumming," He moaned, dropping his head down into your neck as his thrusts turned sloppy. He nuzzled into your neck when your release gushed out around his cock. You clung to him, babbling between moans about how good he was making you feel.

Scaramouche muffled a long moan into your neck, his cock gobbing cum inside of you. You couldn't have sounded sweeter crying for him to make you cum again.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #modern au #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

[wing-ed-thing]

Being Dumb and 12-Years-Old with Team 7 Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Being 12, Mixed AU

𓆃 Genin are a different breed of insufferable. Because they do such heavy, "adult" work, the times genin get to be kids, they almost double down and have to get a certain amount of thoughtlessness out of their system.

Naruto

𓆃 Naruto is just spending money on useless things. He has no idea how to handle money at all and will pay for things in the lowest coin denomination possible.

𓆃 He's a sucker for "limited-time" snacks, no matter what the flavor, and he's paying for everything with the lowest denomination possible.

𓆃 So you're standing at the cash register with your two "spicy pickle and cream" flavored onigiri while the poor cashier has to count 200 1ryō coins.

𓆃 And even after all of that, Naruto will be short.

𓆃 Naruto will be too loud and laugh too much in public spaces. He can't keep his hands off anything and will get you kicked out of at least one (1) business every few weeks.

𓆃 Will go into a business without buying anything and just sit down and hang out. Has absolutely no social anxiety and will stay completely oblivious to the clear mounting frustration on the employee's face until he's asked to leave.

𓆃 Be prepared to apologize for him a million times or instead you can validate to him that he totally didn't do anything wrong— what was that guy's problem?

𓆃 Then you're going back to his apartment, trying to eat spicy noodles— that were actually far too spicy for either of you but neither of you are admitting that— and getting into scream debates over TV shows until the neighbors are banging on the wall because you're being too loud.

𓆃 He's also showing you the grossest things the internet has to offer and traumatizing you for life.

Sakura

𓆃 You and Sakura think you're such mature little adults, meanwhile, you're getting all anxious about the passive aggressive fights you're getting into with your peers.

𓆃 And in true 12-year-old fashion, no one is beefing with each other to their faces, but you sure as hell are sending each other to talk to other people and then report back to you.

𓆃 You once texted Ino's "ex-boyfriend" just asking, "Is this ___?” He threatened to call the authorities and Sakura and Ino had to calm you down for the rest of the night.

𓆃 You think you're being sneaky using the samples from the beauty store to put make up on, and looking back you're baffled you didn't get an infection.

𓆃 Any underwear outside of standard cotton panties is scandalous and terrifying, and there was definitely a time you all bought a lacy undergarment together and worried for a solid hour how to get them home without your parents knowing.

𓆃 You never wore them. Your parents never found out.

𓆃 Sakura and Ino gave you a make over during a sleepover once, even though their version of make up was just very caked on foundation and boxy eyebrows.

𓆃 Every so often, the three of you will pair off and have fights with each other. You and Sakura will have a fight that Ino "mediates." You'll "mediate" a fight between Sakura and Ino... and totally take sides. You'll tell Sakura that Ino's wrong, and Ino that Sakura is wrong.

𓆃 The fights don't last long and usually result in some tears shed and ice cream bought.

Sasuke

𓆃 Sasuke touts himself as a sort of wiz on the piano or perhaps on the guitar, when in reality, he just learned to play three songs really well.

𓆃 He won't outwardly flex, but you can tell he likes to be recognized for it. He'd whip the skill out on days he's feeling particularly down.

𓆃 He'll tell you that you're going to "start a band," but you "won't be like other music groups that just want to get famous". But in reality, when you go over to his place, you'll just end up eating junk food, playing games, and won't ever actually touch an instrument.

𓆃 The closest you'll get is karaoke, but if you ever mention it ever again Sasuke won't talk to you for a week.

𓆃 And he's not immune to sending someone back and forth with messages to you because he's not talking to you. But "not in the way girls do," whatever that means.

𓆃 He’ll also accidentally download something shady from a shady website one night after going down some obscure internet rabbit hole, and Sasuke will say he's not worried about it, but he'll call you when you get home hyperventilating about how worried he is about it.

𓆃 You'll try to learn how to ride the latest form of transportation on wheels together, but the moment Sasuke discovers he's not instantly good at it he'll get mad at you for being better than he is even though it's only been 10 minutes and are you really that better than he is?

𓆃 Only posing for pictures with a scowl and hands clasped in front of you. Bonus points if your head is tilted back. These are photos you and Sasuke hide when you're older.

𓆃 Coming up with nicknames for yourselves and subtly trying to encourage other people to start calling you those nicknames.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: No offense to any 12 year olds in the audience. Being your age is universally a cringe time it's okay it's a right of passage.

#naruto x reader #sakura x reader #sasuke x reader #naruto #sasuke #sakura #team 7 x reader #team 7 #team kakashi #sakura haruno x reader #sasuke uchiha x reader #naruto uzumaki x reader #naruto uzumaki #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #reader insert #x you #x reader #x gn!reader #gn reader #gn!reader

[merakiui]

time loop angst where floyd is destined to live the same day over and over with you, and he can't understand why that is. it's such an unremarkable day, too. just the two of you living life. it was fun the first few times, but now he's lost count of how many days have been lived in repetition and it's so boring. the only thing that makes it bearable is his little shrimpy. he's happy you're here with him, stuck in this insufferable time loop, otherwise he's sure he'd have gone insane from the repetition.

it isn't until floyd realizes that, outside of the loop, you're gone. you've been gone for years, and you're never coming back.

suddenly, the happy days aren't so pleasant. suddenly, he's forced to confront the very thing he's been avoiding.

the loop will end once floyd finally accepts it and moves on, intending to heal. he's been so stuck in his own head, unable to let go of the ghost of you, that he's put himself in this loop.

the worst part of it is that you don't know anything. the shrimpy he wakes up to every morning is so very tangible. you smile, you kiss him, you hug him. your heart is beating in your chest. you're breathing, alive in his arms like everything's okay.

floyd knows it's not right to stay in the loop, even though he desperately wants to. it'll only hurt him more, but goodness does it feel wonderful to embrace you after years apart. half of him doesn't want to move on. it's difficult to get out of bed when he's grieving. it's difficult to find the motivation to breathe and eat and do everything that often came normal to him before your passing. he has to try.

even when he feels stagnant, crushed and heartbroken, the world is always continuing in its usual current.

he has to try. it's all he can do. move forward and try even when it's a challenge.

the next time floyd wakes his bed is empty. he sits up in a dark room, the curtains closed to block out the sun. someone's been ringing his doorbell for what's felt like hours. he peers around the room. you're not here.

the loops's been broken.

floyd drags himself out of bed. the floor is covered in clutter: trash and dirty laundry and crumbs. he should clean that. you used to gently nag him when things got too messy, and he'd always listen. he's not sure how many days or weeks or months he's lived in the same t-shirt and sweatpants, so it's refreshing when he finally strips them off and showers. he doesn't think much. he moves on autopilot. the water feels nice.

the doorbell keeps ringing. floyd, simmering in his irritation, throws it open, ready to deliver a hard punch to whoever's stupid enough to stick around and bother him on this unremarkable monday morning.

jade stands on the other side of the door, holding a bag from the local bakery and a container of what looks to be homemade takoyaki. azul is just a few inches behind, fidgeting awkwardly on his feet. he's clutching a bouquet. it's a happy one, unlike the many mourning arrangements that were sent by friends and family in the wake of your passing.

floyd blinks at them, confused. "what's up?"

they stare back, owlish. azul clears his throat. "you... you're doing all right?" his tone is careful, treading lightly.

"you haven't been answering your phone," jade adds gently, cluing him in on one of the reasons for their concern and, thus, their arrival.

"oh. yeah, my bad. s'not charged. kinda forgot to keep up with it." floyd cards his hand through his hair, exhaling a heavy sigh. "didn't feel like talkin' to anyone, so i didn't want anyone callin'."

"would it be okay if we step in? we've brought your favorites."

floyd glances into his apartment for a minute and then back at jade and azul. he steps aside, shrugging. "be my guest."

he's going to try. for your sake. for jade's sake. for azul's sake. for his mother and father's sake. for his own sake.

he's going to try. one day at a time.

sitting at the table, eating takoyaki and chatting about simple, mundane things, floyd feels peace for the first time in years.

he's going to try. one day at a time.

#meraki mumbles #tw: death #tw: angst #floyb... T^T

[hotteoki]

boyfriend skz things - happy 1k followers!

notes: this was long overdue so i rushed it a bit, but thank you everyone so so much for 1k! here’s a lil celebration that was not proofread ����

©️ strayedstars | do not repost

chan (방찬) - flirting

despite being in a long-term relationship with him, chan will never stop complimenting you, opening doors for you, spoiling you with gifts etc. it’s so frequent to the point where the others have long given up on making fun of him, opting for a simultaneous groan whenever the both of you share any type of interaction.

just as chan was about to lean in to kiss you, jisung interrupted from beside you, “the parents are at it again!” this created a trend for everyone to follow, screaming a few “get a room!”s or “not again!”s. chan pursed his lips, “i really look forward to the day i move out.” you laughed, “you don’t mean that.” “no i really do.”

minho (민호) - sending filter videos

it was very well known that minho is an avid filter user, using sending random videos to stays on bubble and laughing about them. little did anyone know, the amount of videos or pictures minho posts online were only 1/5th of how many he sends you. without even counting them, you could confidently say that 90% of your gallery was him with some ridiculous filter.

"min, stop sending me stuff, my storage is running out because of you." minho blinked at you slowly, before turning his attention back to his phone, ironically already filming a video with him as a bumblebee, "no." you laughed, "what do you mean, no? i quite literally have more pictures of you than me on my phone-" "good."

changbin (창빈) - reminding you to drink water

knowing how much changbin cares about his health, it was safe to assume that he would care just as much about yours. before he began dedicating his time in the gym, it was always you reminding him to stay hydrated. changbin used to be the most forgetful person ever, and would always be too busy working to drink water. however, after you switched jobs, you were often too stressed to eat or drink at all. thank your lucky stars that changbin is basically a walking alarm.

a glass of water was wordlessly placed beside your laptop on the desk. "binnie, i just drank some literally 5 minutes ago," you looked up from your screen to meet his stern eyes. "no, you drank a sip of my water over an hour ago," changbin crossed his arms, staring pointedly at the clock. you knew he wasn't going to budge until you finished every last drop of that glass, so you complied, downing the water. it was only then did he smile proudly, kissing your forehead quickly before leaving to wash the glass.

hyunjin (현진) - drawing

everyone knows how much hyunjin loves art, most of the pieces he posts on instagram were of flowers, or sceneries. however, he has a notebook that is dedicated to his drawings of you. he knows how you aren't confident in yourself most of the time, but he's determined to prove you wrong. whenever you were with him, hyunjin would always have his notebook and pencil in hand, ready to sketch you.

"what are you always drawing?" "hm?" hyunjin hummed, gaze still fixating on his pages. "i mean, you're always drawing something, can i see what it is?" his cheeks turned slightly pink from your attention, "i'll show you when i'm finished." "but you work on a new piece every time?" hyunjin paused, thinking of a reply to that, "i'll show you the entire book when i'm done. i have around 11 pages left or so anyway." you nodded, satisfied with that answer. hyunjin smiled to himself before continuing his work on your eyes, he always thought they were the prettiest he'd ever seen.

jisung (지성) - petting

it started off as a subconscious movement, you were pretty certain jisung hadn’t even realised doing it until you asked him why he was stroking your arm out of nowhere. he responded with a blush, moving away before you could stop him. it was when it happened again that you told him you found it adorable, and that was also when jisung kissed you for the first time.

“i never got to ask you,” you said, nudging jisung's foot with yours, earning a hum from him. “why do you always pet me?” the hand that was caressing your thigh halted, before continuing as jisung thought of an answer, “i don’t know. i think i just got used to petting bbama, and now i pet you.” you kissed his cheek lightly, smiling against his skin, “fair enough.”

felix (용복) - baking

it was regular for felix to bake a batch of brownies for the members and staff, and usually they would all be devoured before you could even get your hands on one of them, which is why felix would always bake a smaller batch reserved just for you. sometimes they would have chocolate chips in them, or m&ms, whatever you were craving, they would probably be put in the brownies.

"yah, felix, do you have any more brownies?" minho yelled from across the room. "no, sorry, that was all!" felix called back. "what do you mean? you literally have a box of them right there?" jeongin pointed out. felix immediately reacted, extending his arm until it was out of jeongin's reach, "they're not yours." "they're mine!" you added in, walking over to felix and taking the box from him, kissing his cheek as a thank you. "ugh, not in here," minho recoiled.

seungmin (승민) - taking pictures

much like hyunjin, he's an avid believer of capturing the moment. seungmin carries a film camera with him at all times, knowing that if he used a regular camera, you would ask to see the picture and instantly ask him to delete it. by using a film camera, you wouldn't be able to see the picture, and seungmin would be able to print them out without your knowing, and pocket them in his wallet.

"when did you take this?" you indicated at the picture of you in his wallet, you swore you've never seen that picture before. "a while ago," seungmin shrugged, taking his wallet from your hands. "do you just take pictures of me out of nowhere?" you laughed. "yeah, all the time. i thought you knew that." you blinked, "i did not." "well now you do."

jeongin (정인) - letting you wear his rings

jeongin's usually very reluctant about letting other people borrow his things, but when he saw you trying on some of his rings, he knew he would let you have anything you wanted that belonged to him. it wasn't even a possessive thing, he simply thought that it warmed his heart to know that you loved him so much you would wear a reminder of him every day.

"hey, can i borrow this for tonight? it goes with my outfit." without even looking up from his phone, jeongin nodded, "sure." "innie, you're not even looking," you stated teasingly. he smiled, "i don't need to. you can keep whatever you want." you gaped, "really?" jeongin switched his phone off, beaming at you, "yeah. what's mine is yours. not my clothes though, i need them for my ootds."

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids minho #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz imagines #skz texts #skz headcanons #skz bang chan #skz smau #skz scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids jeongin #stray kids felix #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #minho x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #jisung x reader #han jisung #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #yongbok x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #1k followers

[lewsnumerounofan]

party foul (jeremiah fisher x reader)

summary: so what if you're in love with your best friend, jeremiah fisher? one drunk kiss won't change anything. right?

notes: not biblically accurate conrad, teen drinking, kissing, 3k words, reader previously dated co**ad, angst/miscomm., not proof read at all

+ part 2

+ i never keep the same tense i'm so sooryim gooo fuckjuhnbsorry oh my god and dw abt the header image!!!!!! it's okay!!!!!

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

you hadn't expected this, to say the least. in fact, you'd been bracing for an awkward and mostly miserable night. ever since conrad and you had split back in june, things had been awful. the breakup had been bad itself--getting ditched at prom without explanation was one thing--but watching conrad get back with nicole a week later was even worse.

so you were pleasantly surprised with yourself when you decided to go to the fisher's goodbye party, despite whatever tension there might be between you and conrad.

if you were being honest with yourself though, you mostly had jeremiah to thank. you two had been best friends since childhood, but ever since his brother had broken your heart, jere had been there for you. all the time, really. he'd drive down on weekends to check up on you. and when susannah had gotten worse, you'd driven up to make sure he was eating and sleeping too.

so of course he'd been able to convince you to come stay, waving off your concerns about conrad. i want you there, he'd said. i really want you there. and so you'd come. you arrived late, tired from the hours of highway driving. already the house was packed with hap hazardously parked cars and drunk teenagers. the music was loud even on the warm streets outside, and you couldn't help but feel excited as you pulled your bag out of your car and started towards the party.

taylor was the one who opened the door for you. she launched herself into a hug, giggling and shrieking as you two swung around.

"oh my god. you have no idea how happy i am to see you," she yelled, dragging you into the crowded house.

together you fumbled upstairs, eventually breaking into one of the larger rooms. various assortments of air mattresses and water beds covered the floor. jere had called you as soon as they'd gotten back from the boardwalk about julia's suprise moving. it wasn't often you heard him so... defeated.

"you can drop your stuff wherever," said taylor, "but the one in the corner is jeremy's."

she didn't even bother to hide her grin as you slapped her arm. nothing, not even your best kept secret, made it past taylor.

"shut up. you can't say anything to him or i swear i'll kill you," you promised, only half joking.

"oh please. he hasn't stopped talking about you the whole trip. it's disgusting."

you tried not to smile at that--jere talked about you? i mean, he'd called you just about every day for the last few months. more, on days when things were hard. but still, you felt almost nervous at the thought of seeing him now. of what it might be like between you.

your thoughts were cut off by a shout of your name. running into the room was belly. well, not running--rolling.

"oh my god bell what are you wearing?" you asked. it was too late though, because she was wrapping you up in a wobbly, crushing hug.

"roller skates? duh? they're an old pair of susannah's," she said.

you'd missed belly. she looked fucking adorable in her little vintage number, and you hugged her again just because. over her shoulder you could see steven grinning, and conrad too. you waved to the later while steven strode over, ruffling your hair before taking your bag from you.

"long time no see, city-girl," he said.

"yeah yeah yeah. just be nice to my bag, okay? it's got some very delicate presents," you said. steven raised his eyebrows but did as you said, placing your bag onto the bed taylor had indicated earlier. jere's bed. taylor and steven met eyes and winked--uh oh. the last thing you needed was them trying to set you up with your best friend. your best friend who you're in love with, something inside you said. you tried your best to strangle it.

"hey."

this time it was conrad, who was sporting a pair of atrocious sunflower sunglasses on the top of his head.

"hey. i like the glasses," you said, doing your best to smile. it was weird to talk like this to him. you were so angry and embarrassed and sad because of him for so long, and now there was just... nothing. and it felt okay.

"uh, yeah. nicole--nicole got them for me."

he looked sheepish, blushing in a way that used to have you fawning. now you just did your best to nod, saying, "well, she's certainly got a good eye for fashion."

you were saved from the conversation by steven's cough. he stood by the doorway, impatiently waving you towards the party.

"cmon guys, can we hurry this up?"

"yeah, gimmie one sec," you promised. returning to your bag you pulled out the liquor you'd secured on your way there, the bottles heavy in your hands.

"see," you said, turning back to your friends, "presents."

-

downstairs was even louder than you thought it would be. belly had gone all out for the party--strobe lights blared in every room, a kegger was set up outside, and a dj (was that cam cameron??) was spinning in the living room. you had to admit it: you were having a good time. a really good time. except for, that is, one thing. or person, really. jere was nowhere to be found. he'd even missed out on the group shots you, steven, taylor, belly and conrad had downed first beside the pool and then by the kitchen. jeremiah never missed group shots.

a little more than drunk now, you pushed off from your spot on the counter to find your bestfriend.

"city-girl, where you going?" asked steven.

"i'm gonna go find jere. i haven't seen him since i got in."

"i'll come with you," a voice spoke up.

it was conrad, who looked between you and the floor nervously. you didn't miss the questioning looks that pass between taylor and belly. you shrug at them--a little nervous, but not enough to turn him down in front of all your friends.

"uh, yeah sure."

so you and conrad made your way back through the party, scanning couches and corners for jeremiah. by the time you hit the stairs you were both sweaty and annoyed. you had come all this way to see him, and all of a sudden he'd disappeared.

"he's not picking up any of my calls," said conrad, pulling his phone away from his ear.

"me neither," you admitted, letting yourself swing around the banister to sit at the bottom of the staircase. cautiously, conrad gestured to empty landing beside you.

"mind if i join?"

you nod, scooching over to make room. conrad looked bigger than last time you'd seen him. he looked stronger too. for a while after susannah died he'd looked like a corpse--pale and skinny and only half there. even you could admit you were glad to see him doing so much better.

"hey, look i didn't really tag along to search for jere," conrad said, glancing back at you. shocker.

"i uh," he cleared his throat, "i mostly just wanted to apologize. for how things ended. i know i messed up really bad and i wanted to say i'm sorry."

in the hazy blue and purple's of the dance floor below, conrad's steel-blue eyes were genuine. for the first time that night they held yours steadily.

"i was hurting, and let myself fall on you for comfort even when i knew you weren't who i wanted. who i needed. and it wasn't fair to you. i know that now, and i'm sorry it took me so long. i'm really, really sorry."

huh. you hadn't really expected that one either. but it was nice to hear him say those words. you liked conrad. he was a good guy who'd had a rough hand delt to him. and yeah, he hadn't done right by you. but like susannah had always repeated:

"no harm no foul," you said, and let yourself smile at him. he looked relieved as he smiled back, no doubt recognizing the reference to his mother.

"you're happy now, i take it? with nicole?" you ask.

"yeah. more than happy, actually. don't know what i did to deserve her."

you're happy for him, in that moment. really happy.

"what about you? you finally stopped messing around and admitted your feelings to jere?" he asked.

"huh?" you drop, mouth open. there's no way.

"what," he chuckled, grinning harder at your shocked expression, "like it's not obvious you two are crazy for each other."

you can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks now, stomach skipping at his words. so they all knew, you realized. does jere?

"he doesn't--you didn't tell him, right?" you said, panic rising.

conrad shakes his head, still looking amused.

"no, but he'd be a fool not to see it. you guys are perfect for each other. really."

"thanks, conrad."

and you mean it--it's been months of awkwardness between you. and now you just feel... good. you feel like you've got your friend back. so you lean over and hug him, letting yourself remember that before your fling you were friends, and returning back to it feels comforting and warm.

"thank you, for hearing me out. i'm glad we can be back to normal now," he said into your shoulder.

"friends again?" you ask.

"definit--"

"what the fuck?"

-

it's jeremiah. he stands at the top of the stairs, eyes wide. he's wearing the ariana grande merch you'd gotten him. he looks the same and yet--

and yet something in your chest fizzes and your stomach starts running circles as you look at him. you missed him. and not because he was your best friend.

"jere--it's not what it looks like," said conrad.

and then you realized he did look different. the jeremiah you knew was always grinning about some secret joke, or making fun of belly or steven. he never looked... betrayed like this. and he certainly never looked at you with disgust. with anger.

"what the fuck are you guys doing?" he asked again, but this time he didn't even look at you.

"nothing, jere. we were just talking," said conrad.

you cringed at his words. they might be true, but they sure didn't sound good.

"yeah, sure," laughed jere. you'd never heard him laugh like that. it made your skin prickle.

"c'mon, you know i'd never do that-" conrad started.

jeremiah was faster though. he was up in conrad's face in a second, pushing him into the wall. you'd never seen him like this. he wasn't an aggressive guy; even when the brothers fought it was never violent.

"don't fucking lie, con. you were just waiting to take her back weren't you? waiting until you knew it'd hurt me the most, huh?"

you felt his words viscerally, like they were being penned onto your skin. hurt him the most? it was the closest to a confession you'd gotten, but it all felt wrong.

by now, partygoers on the main floor had started to notice the commotion. people were pointing, some even starting to pull out their phones. great.

"jere," you called. he paused, bright blue eyes on you. even now, fighting with his brother, jeremiah looked beautiful. maybe you had had a bit too much to drink.

"jere, please let it go. conrad isn't a part of this," you murmured. though you didn't break eye contact, you could see his hands loosen around his brother's shirt in your peripheral. jaw clenched, he heeded your wishes, giving a final shove to conrad before breaking away. he walked quickly down the stairs and into the throngs of people below.

"jere, wait up!" you call, desperately trying to follow the broad shape of his back through the crowd. jeremiah didn't bother trying to accommodate your smaller strides, and you almost lost him a few times in the packed house.

"would you please slow down? jere," you said again. by now you were out of the house, dodging pool floaties and scattered drinks. the blonde made no indication of hearing you as he kept striding towards the beach.

"jeremiah!"

finally he whipped around. he still looked mad--the set of his jaw, the notching of his eyebrows--but under all of it, he just looked sad. you hated seeing him upset, and you hated knowing you might've been the cause of it.

"jere, please. what's going on?" you asked, this time softly. he was close to you now. you could see his heavy breathing, could smell the perfume he always wore.

"how would i know. you're the one who's looking all close with your ex--my brother--conrad," he spits. he swallows hard, like he's checking himself.

"it was always you and conrad. even when we were kids it was that way. i was stupid to think it could've been any different."

he turned away from you, gaze hard. oh, jere. you have no idea, you thought. it was him--how could he not see that? how could he really think it was conrad you cared about?

you couldn't deny it any longer: you loved jere. and you definitely weren't about to let him walk away thinking otherwise.

quickly, without letting yourself dwell on it, you grabbed jeremiah's hand. he turned back, eyes wide. and you kissed him.

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

and then everything was static. everywhere he touched you--the long, lean press of his body to your front, the sharp slide of his jawline under your palm, the firm press of his hands at your waist. every sense was filled with him and his warmth and the way he smelled.

you were gasping into the kiss, hyperaware of the small noises he made when you pulled on his curls. of just how tall he was, how much he had to lean down to hold you like this.

you barely broke away enough to say, "jere, nothing happened with conrad. we were talking about you-"

"don't care," he said, voice rough. because he was too busy lifting you onto one of the wooden boardwalk rails, muscled arms flexing in the distant party lights.

you barely had time to settle before he was kissing you again, sloppy this time, like he owned your mouth and wanted you to know it. you felt hot everywhere, as his hands pulled apart your thighs and he crowded his broad body into you.

you'd kissed once before for a game of truth or dare. it had been sweet and short, and you both had been teased about it for years afterwards. this was different.

wholly different, you realized, as jeremiah's lips sought out the hot skin of your neck. there was no place except where he touched you; the noise of the party, the lull of the waves on the beach, the quiet way he murmured against your skin.

"jere," you said, because there was no room in your mind for anything or anyone else. he hummed as his canines bit lightly at your ear. jere.

greedy for more, you took one of the tan, strong hands holding your face and brought it lower, lower until it rested over your frantically beating heart. jere had pulled away to watch your ministrations, cursing softly as his hand fell over your chest.

"you sure?" he asked, and his voice sounded hoarse.

"yeah, course jere. it's you."

something behind his eyes sparked at the trust you promised. it's always been you. kissing you once more, gentler this time, jere let his hand run up and under the vintage bathing suit top you'd stolen from your mom for the party.

skin on skin, jeremiah was soft and warm. he was breathing heavy as you as he felt you up. forehead to yours, gaze keen as he watched you pant and squirm.

"this okay?"

you could only nod, eyes drawn tight at the sensation. he kissed you again, his touch more confident as you clung to his shoulders.

you'd messed around with conrad a few times. it had felt good. fun, even. but he'd never had you reeling like this, never made you feel like everywhere he touched was fire. that feeling was reserved for jere.

and as his thumb circled your nipple and his teeth pulled at your lip, you realized you were burning and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it. best friend or not, jere was the only one who could make you feel like this. ever.

you pulled away from his mouth. he looked concerned, and you could feel him move his hands away from you.

"sorry if i..." he started, blue eyes near scared as he watched you.

"no, jere it's not that. it's, it's just that i-"

"hey, there's my man! where the fuck were you dude?"

it was steven. fucking steven. on his arm was taylor, who grinned manically when she saw your mussed hair and blushing expression. please not now, taylor. please don't mess this up any more.

but drunk as they were, the pair didn't notice your nervous expression. instead, steven laughed and said, "so did you finally tell her you're in love with her or what?"

-

jere's face dropped. whatever softness you'd shared moments earlier was gone. his mouth set flat, hands that had been mapping out your body now closed into fists.

"fuck you, steven."

taylor's eyes were on you now, finally recognizing the tears you tried to blink away. with a hand on his chest she held steven back, some wordless communication passing between them. if you hadn't been feeling your own heart break you would've been trying to tease them about it.

instead, you chased after jeremiah's retreating figure.

"jere, will you please listen!" you called. but he was stubborn--you knew this better than anyone. one more time you tried, shouting his name over the stupidly loud party.

he whipped back around, blue eyes sharp.

"just stay away from me, okay? why don't you go find conrad to wipe your tears," he snapped. for a moment, jere looked shocked at his own words too. but then he was shaking his head, tearing his gaze away from yours as he continued through the crowds towards the house. away from you.

and this time, as people collapsed into the space all around you, their yelling and singing drowning out even your thoughts, you knew there was no use calling for him.

#jeremiah fisher #team jeremiah #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah fisher smut #jeremiah smut #jeremiah fic #jeremiah x you #tsitp #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah tsitp imagine #party foul #bigkeepup

[crushedsweets]

i feel like,,, possibly,,, lulu and jack would get along splendidly

i totally see it. i talk under the cut !

so, again, in my au lulu was killed in a hazing. she was buried in the slender forest, and some demonic entity brought her back, taking her eyes as payment. (still debating on if its zalgo still)

she found herself hanging around the abandoned hospital because thats where fog was, and thats the only place she could 'see'. if she feels the fog, she can feel where all the other particles are at, therefore making out shapes etc etc.

some days the fog reels back, and usually ann will keep her around, or the proxies will find her and scare her back where she's supposed to be. but eventually, they were busy, she got lost and kept walking and walking and walking and bumped into jack

jack died in a sacrifice after joining a university 'club'. his eyes were taken from him as part of the ritual. he sees through echolocation and thermal vision(?).

they'd kinda awkwardly talk and he can just Tell that lulu is one of the new cryptids the proxies keep in like guard dogs, something something demonic 6th sense , and it'd kinda take them both a minute to realize theyre both blind(mostly)

lulu is in a CONSTANT daze, all the fucking time she is in a fucking fog (get it..) . her last few weeks alive were spent drunk, barely managing to get to her lectures and absolutely not understanding shit, so she spends a good bit of time just thinking shes supposed to be in class. she's very fucking lost . and it breaks jacks heart

jack probably sees himself in lulu a lot, since they have oddly similar 'origin stories' in this au, and he'd gently guide her back to the hospital (once figuring out where she's supposed to be)

after finding out who she is, i could see him trying to go visit her more often. anns weird but she's not really attached to lulus hip so she's not always bugging them. there have been times where jack would bring his little radio and tapes and play audio books for her. lulus not really an academic person, she was only in university to appease her parents, but it's pleasant. she eventually gets him to start bringing other things, like music and clay and stuff.

i could see them getting close enough(or jack getting fond enough) to ask the proxies if lulu can visit his cabin, rather than the other way. toby and kate dont care, brians iffy, and tim is very against it (cuz lulu is a little unpredictable) . so soemtimes toby will bring lulu(for "supervision" lmfao) and they'll just kinda hang out. she doesnt need to eat but jack would make some food and it'd be nice

#asks #creepypasta #sweetart #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta art #creeped #hcs #eyeless jack #jack nyras #lulu #lulu creepypasta

[stayconnecteed]

❪⠀🪐.⠀lipstick stains⠀𓏔⠀lee know⠀❫

☆ㅤlee know x afab!reader ( valentine's collab oneshots )⠀★⠀4.3k words

synopsys: minho hated many things. he hated talking for the sake of talking, and would often cut off conversation if it seemed insipid. he even hated make-up, with its sticky foundation and faux appearance. and he hated being kept waiting. at least until you came into his life, and suddenly he didn't care at all.

When Minho had got that job as a delivery boy, he knew he could be faced with some really exasperating situations. He wasn't the most patient person in the world, so it could have been a problem for him, but he hadn't done too badly either. At first he had been assigned to the food transport department. He had class in the mornings, the Practical Dance degree taking up his time from nine to two, and then he would eat what he had prepared the night before as quickly as possible to go to the establishments that the company's application ordered him to attend, picking up the order and driving to the destination.

It had been a great time. He had made good friends in the restaurants, the schedule suited him well enough, and he was well paid. He spent most of his shift in the quiet of his car, alone with his music, and usually people were impassive enough to take their food, pay and close the door, too busy with their lives to talk to him. There was no need, really. Minho hated talking for the sake of talking, and would often cut off conversation if it seemed insipid. At least until you walked in his life.

You had met in a lift. You had come home from a very busy day, but you had held the door for him when you had seen him running down the street on that rainy afternoon, and you had walked shoulder to shoulder to the lift. You had greeted him as soon as he had entered, your soft eyes welcoming him gently, and as the doors closed you had asked him which floor he was going to, his hands too busy to press the button himself. You had erased all traces of tiredness from your face, your lips curving into a welcoming smile, defined by the pretty gloss you had decided to put on that morning, one of the many ones you had.

And you had giggled, excited as a little girl, when he had told you the number of the flat, announcing with an adorable gleam in your eyes that it was the same one you were going to. Minho hadn't been able to stop you from consulting the order ticket, stapled to one of the paper bags he carried in his arms, muttering about how hungry you were when you read that what was inside was your favourite food, and if he hadn't been such a coward and you hadn't looked so tired when you thought no one was looking, he might have asked you if you wanted to go out to dinner with him.

But he hadn't mustered the courage, so he just nodded and asked you what other food you liked, making that small talk he hated so much, commenting on how bad the weather had been lately, raining non-stop, even though he couldn't really stop thinking about how pretty you looked with your hair wet from the rain, drops of water still sliding down your cheeks, falling from the tip of your nose, from the run he'd seen you take from the street corner as he picked up the order in his car. And when the lift stopped and you both stepped out, you bowing a little goodbye, he cracking a tiny smile and checking which flat to go to, you endured a strange dance as you both approached the same door.

Minho excused himself, letting you in first so you could open the door with your keys, and heard you mutter something about not having ordered anything for dinner, puzzled. You turned towards him once you were inside, sliding your boots to the floor, and begged him to wait a few minutes, leaving the door wide open, resting your bag on the small table just inside the doorway. You walked down the corridor, disappearing around the corner, your damp hair soaking your jumper, and he heard you shout someone's name, asking him to explain Minho's presence.

The few minutes he stood outside, waiting, he could see that you were a rather messy person 一not only the boots you'd just left lying in the middle of the hallway, but the hall wardrobe was open and Minho could see the chaos of coats and shoes inside一 and he felt like using your absence to go in and tidy everything up. The faint hints of the perfume he had smelled on you in the lift became more intense in the flat, a smell that was so soft and pleasant that it invited him to curl up in his bed on a lazy Sunday.

But then you came back, running a towel through your damp hair, and Minho stood still as you approached him, like a trembling gazelle cub being stalked by a lioness, your originally blue jeans almost blackish in colour because they were wet, clinging to your legs like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. You smiled, this time with an apologetic tinge, and leaned against the doorframe, speaking to him with the most tender gentleness.

"Sorry for the wait, my roommate didn't let me know he'd ordered dinner" you'd whispered, taking the bags from him and putting them next to your purse. "Oh my god, you're soaking wet too, do you want a towel?"

Minho didn't know what to reply, too mesmerised by your presence, and at his lack of response you offered him the towel you had in your hands, assuring him that you had just taken it clean from the wardrobe. When he took it, soft, white, dry and totally yours, your scent enveloped him, and he felt his head dizzy, drowning in you. He feared it would be too much for him to take it to his hair, to his face, to dry himself, and that he would start thinking about you if he ever smelled that perfume again, but he feared more that rejecting your kindness would make you feel bad somehow, so he ended up caressing the fabric against his skin, trying to engrave in his memory all of what he was feeling.

"Do I have to pay you for the food?" you asked, once he handed you back the towel, his heart skipping a beat as he saw you put it around your neck, now that it smelled like him too. "Or do you want to come in and help us eat everything you brought? I don't want to let you leave with the horrible weather outside."

"You pay from the app when you order it," he explained, fiddling nervously with the zip of his coat pocket, "and I'm going by car, don't worry. Besides, I'm in the middle of my shift."

"Oh, right" you stammered, your knuckles turning white in your grip on the doorknob, as if you didn't expect the refusal. "I... I hadn't thought of that, sorry."

Your cheeks were coloured a lovely reddish colour, your confidence completely lost at his words, and you shied away from his gaze, an insecure state that Minho hated to see in you, unable to bear the knowledge that it was he who had forced you into such behaviour.

"But thank you," he added at the last moment, trying not to let his eyes reflect the shame he felt, "I would have liked to stay, in another situation."

Another situation? Really? Idiot, idiot, idiot. He couldn't believe he'd just missed such an opportunity. He stammered a farewell that he found pitiful to hear and before you could answer him or close the door, he had already retreated into the lift, safe from your pained gaze. He leaned against the mirror after pressing the button and closed his eyes, wishing he could go back in time and change everything he had done. God, he hadn't even asked for your number.

He walked past the mailboxes, looking for your flat, but the only name that came up was 'Yang Jeongin' so he assumed that was your roommate, the same one you'd called by a nickname moments before when he hadn't made an ass of himself yet. You were probably new to the building anyway. Another stroke of bad luck. He got into the car in a bad mood, checking the app to see where he was supposed to go, and spent the rest of the shift sulking, scowling at everyone and keeping his manners even though what he wanted more than anything was to scream in frustration.

His bad luck continued when his second semester schedule was changed from morning to afternoon, and he had to ask work to act accordingly, changing his shift as well. That was how he ended up 'in the morning delivery department. He would wake up at 8 a.m. to take the corporate van at 9 a.m., and drive around the streets of Seoul delivering online orders of local shops or those overseas companies that hired their services. It was relatively light work, considering that at the end of the semester he would quit in favour of the choreography job he had been offered and secured at that cool dance studio after seeing his talent in university projects.

But it pained him to know that the chances of never seeing you again were increasing, as your roommate constantly asked take out but you never went out to take it, instead Jeongin would greet him with a smile before grabbing his food, saying thank you and closing the door. Sometimes he would die of jealousy. He didn't know that boy 一not that he knew you better, but you had left a mark on his heart that Jeongin didn't一, and he had the privilege of not only knowing you, being your friend and seeing you every day, but also that you lived together. Minho wished he was in that situation.

What he hadn't counted on was your obsession with make-up. When he'd seen you, apart from your bubbly personality and that noxious tendency to invite strangers into your house, it was how good you looked in the gloss you were wearing. As far as he remembered, and he remembered it exactly because he wouldn't allow himself to forget, it was a soft, pale pink colour, and it made your lips shine in a way that made him want to bite them. To taste you, to find out if the gloss would taste of anything, to feel you react to his kisses, the noise you would make when he nibbled on you, if you would tremble under his touch.

It was recurring, the thought, and not exactly healthy. But it was all he had, and it was worth it to him that way. The first time he read on his new route your address, he couldn't disguise his joy. He knew that the chances of you not receiving it were the same as if you did, but you were still using the company he worked for as a method of package delivery, and that was all he needed to know.

He left the package for the end of his shift, and the morning felt like it took forever, but when he finally got to your street and parked in front of the building, he was overjoyed. He had to take the stairs instead of the lift because he couldn't stand still for those few minutes, he needed to move to get rid of his nerves. He knew he was overthinking the whole interaction you were going to have, which probably wouldn't be half as long as it had been that first time, but he couldn't help it. Ever since you'd crossed into his life you hadn't left his mind.

And when he finally rang the doorbell, the little packet of Sephora resting in his hands, his heart pounding in his chest, and you opened the door for him, he suddenly adopted that attitude that always took hold of him when you were in front of him. Your eyes widened in surprise, shining in recognition, and you greeted him with a smile, leaning against the door.

"You no longer deliver food," you stated, an irremediable fact to which Minho could only nod. "After we met in the lift you didn't come back, I thought I'd scared you off."

You hid the truth of your words behind a laugh, turning the sentence into a joke that neither of you found funny. He did not correct you, not when your words implied that you had wanted to see him again, and merely smiled, pretending that he had not asked his colleagues to always take care of orders from your address. You looked into each other's eyes for a moment, the intensity you shared making your breath catch, and it was Minho who cut the moment short.

"I'm hard to scare," he whispered, making you laugh. Maybe he wasn't being such an idiot that time, then. "You need to sign here."

He held out his company phone, the screen blank, waiting for your signature to acknowledge receipt of the package, and you took a step towards him, picking up the device in his hands, the pen too, your fingers tingling as they brushed against each other's skin, and you signed, a doodle as chaotic as your nature. Once you handed it back to him, you tilted your head, adopting an innocent appearance in his eyes, and flashed an enigmatic smile that made Minho blush.

"I just finished cooking," you announced, a comment released with apparent nonchalance. "Do you want to stay for lunch?"

And because he wasn't willing to be an idiot a second time, he accepted. He agreed to join you and your little pot of ramen carbonara, and unknowingly also accepted your way of snickering when the occasion was less propitious, your lack of cooking skills, your well-timed extroversion, your lazy introversion, the way your eyes widened in surprise whenever you looked at something you were curious about, your frown when watching a movie, the little crinkles that formed at the corners of your eyes when you let out a laugh. 

He accepted that waiting for a few minutes for you to get off work didn't matter because he knew he could see you later, and he accepted your flaws and quirks, learning to realise that to him they were just reasons to love you. And above all, he agreed to come to your apartement every week, even if you hadn't arranged to meet up, because you spent your days compulsively buying new make-up products from the ones you saw on TikTok. And whenever he saw on his route that he had to drop off a new package for you, he would finish his deliveries in record time, leaving yours for last, just because a few hours together were worth it.

That love for makeup had surprised even Jeongin, who only sighed when he recognised the Sephora box on the hallway table on his return from university, and heard your laughter and the soft voice of Minho from the living room, who in a few weeks had gone from the stranger you'd met in the lift to a third roommate to be reckoned with. He knew that the TikTok excuse you'd told the delivery boy was just a way of hiding the crush you had on him, and how much you missed his presence when he wasn't with you, but he hadn't been able to ask you if it was also an excuse you'd made for yourself or if you'd done it on purpose. It wasn't clear to him that you were going to do anything about it either, so when weeks turned into months and your relationship stayed the same, he decided to give you a push.

He seized a morning he knew you were busy to order a new lipstick online, and make sure it had to arrive that day. Of course, Minho's routine didn't change, the van verging on the speed limit, delivering packages like an expert just to get it done as soon as possible and be able to spend the rest of the morning with you. He made sure to buy some groceries, deciding that he would cook something for you that day, and he didn't see Jeongin's smile when he opened the door, nor did he suspect when he told him you'd be there soon, that he'd be in his room, that at that point it was already like he was at his home. Your roommate had always been most kind to him, so a little extra sweetness wasn't going to surprise him either. That was what he thought.

What did surprise him was when he walked into your room, ready to leave the Sephora packet on your desk, as you always did, and saw a shoebox full of more lipsticks. Minho frowned as he read his name written on the box in a hasty handwriting that was undoubtedly yours, and picked up one of the lipsticks, recognising it. It was one of the ones you carried in your handbag when you went out partying. As he rummaged through the box he saw that it was a brand that was repeated quite a lot, always in that carmine colour that he had hated so much before he met you, but which he had found so delicious on your lips, and that there was also a crazy amount of gloss in pale pink, the one you had been wearing when he had met you. The fact that you had so many made him wonder if you were one of those people who were so cautious, who needed to have spares of everything. Although there were a large number of spares there.

And they were under his name. Was it because... you were saving them for him? You'd talked more than once about make-up being genderless. Especially when Jeongin invited your friends to the apartment, those two blondes who didn't mind being seen with eyeshadow and some gloss, smiling and flirtatious. You had joked more than once about lending him one of your lipsticks. You said he had beautiful lips, that it was a pity he didn't want to make the most of them, that he didn't see their full potential. You'd said it drunk, but you'd never lied to him. You'd talked more than once about how expensive they were. But because they were so worth buying, because you felt so pretty in them, Minho came back to you every week with a new box.

You had aroused his curiosity. When he saw you apply your lipstick, he always noticed the soft way the red stick left a carmine line on your lips, and he wondered what it would be like to kiss you. He thought about it even when you weren't wearing lipstick, but especially in those moments, when all he could see was the curve of your lips, highlighted by the intense colour, and he tried to look away before you noticed, praying that the blush on his cheeks wasn't as obvious as he thought it was. But seeing his name attached to that box, for the first time he had wondered if it would really suit him. He could try, couldn't he? You hadn't arrived yet. He knew where you kept the make-up remover, it would be quick. No one had to know. So he did it.

He left the box on your desk, where he had found it, and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door to avoid being caught. He looked in the mirror, but without making eye contact, and he knew he was blushing even before he saw it. It didn't feel wrong, just the adrenaline of something different. He hurried to take the plastic off the lipstick, and had to use some force to unscrew it. Five stars for the packaging, he thought, chuckling. And when he saw the red colour on the pad, and realised it was more like a matte gloss, he hesitated for a second. It wasn't what he expected. Maybe it was too liquid. Should he shake it first? You didn't do that, or at least he hadn't seen you do it. But there was no way that... Well, he had the make-up remover in the cabinet, so it was fine.

He applied a first coat to his lower lip, shivering as he felt the cool product against his skin, wetting it with red. He sensed he was applying too much, but it looked so pretty, so shiny, that he decided it didn't matter. He sometimes put vaseline on his lips, when they were very dry, but it didn't compare in any way. He felt gorgeous, and he wondered if you felt the same way, if girls put on lipstick just for that feeling. If so, he understood them. He could even buy one of your cute transparent glosses after that.

And just when he had finally been able to look at himself in the mirror, but in the eyes, his cheeks the same shade as his lips, admiring the view, he heard your voice in the hallway, greeting Jeongin. Shit. His eyes widening in panic would have been funny in another situation, but at that moment all he could think of was grabbing the bottle of makeup remover and looking for some cotton tissues. Only he couldn't find any cotton anywhere. His heart was racing, beating against his chest so fast he thought it would burst out, as he opened doors and lifted boxes of pads, but no sign. Could he use toilet paper? It would do, wouldn't it? Well, it would have to do. He took the roll of toilet paper and cut off a generous piece, sprinkling it with the make-up remover.

But before he could pass it over his lips, the bathroom door opened and when you realised what he was doing you were both petrified, the eye contact adding stress to a tension that was suffocating Minho. For a few seconds, a thousand different scenarios ran through his head, most of them where you were angry at him for taking things of yours without permission, others where you were making fun of him, and he couldn't take it. He averted his eyes, embarrassed, and mumbled an apology: "I brought another one of your packages and the box was on your desk, I was just curious, I didn't mean to... I'm sorry, really, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to take your things without permission. Because the box had my name on it, I thought it was for me and I didn't..."

"You're doing it wrong, pabo," you murmured, approaching him with soft steps, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder to turn him around, and calming his wild heart a little. "Oh, you took the tinted one, too."

"The... the tinted one?" he repeated, stunned, absorbed by the smile you exhibited, full of affection for him. How wrong he had been, thinking you were going to judge him.

"Yes, it's stronger than a normal lipstick. You're supposed to apply a little less and spread it out more, but don't worry: I have the perfect solution to get rid of what's left over" you explained, leaning against the sink, pulling him towards you by the shirt, as if you were going to tell him a secret. "Give me a kiss."

Minho's breath caught, staring at you with wide eyes, his lips suddenly dry, or maybe it was his mouth, or maybe he was actually salivating, he didn't know. All he could think about was what you had just suggested, what it would be like, images in his head of all the times he had imagined your lips on his.

"On your mouth?"

You looked up at his question, the words barely a whisper in the silence of the bathroom, and your heart stopped at the glint of hope in his eyes. Maybe he was being delusional, maybe it was all a dream he didn't want to wake up from, but he didn't care. Maybe that wasn't what you meant, maybe you meant a kiss on the cheek, maybe your friendship ended right then and there. But seeing the way you ran your tongue over your lips, as if you were thinking the same thing he was, suddenly hungry of him, made him think that he had just taken an important step. And when he heard you whisper, a breathy "yes" leaving your lips, then he rushed against you, cupping your cheeks in his hands, and kissed you as he had dreamed.

You gasped against his mouth, sliding your hands into his hair, and feeling the way his body pressed against the furniture behind you like an embrace you didn't want to escape. It was as messy as he had hoped, the way his painted lips crashed against yours, how his tongue caressed yours, those muffled sounds that left your mouth every time Minho bit your lip, and that had hunted him in his loneliest moments. And then he guided his kisses down your jaw, drinking in your sighs and whimpers as he left marks and bruises on your skin, down your neck. And when he broke away, your breaths mingling, and he watched his masterpiece, chaotic red stains on your neck, a smear of lipstick on your lips, he couldn't help but smile.

"The box wasn't for you," you muttered, mirroring his expression, as if you were meant to be like this, "it was because of you. I've been buying lipsticks for months just so you'd come back to me."

"Well, I don't plan on ever leaving." he whispered against your lips, kissing you again.

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#﹙ ★ ﹚ mars — writes. #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #lee know x reader #lee know fluff

[ilsole]

Stupidly in Love

A flourish of ribbons fly in the air as a certain jester lays out a nifty little fabric square upon fresh grass, a clearing within a great field, the forest behind, sun in the sky, birds singing their little theatre songs.

Fool gave a synthetic breath in, before turning to his companion.

Misuta glared up at the bright skies above, before he himself turned to Fool, a slight look of confusion coming to his face.

"When you asked if we could go out together, I wasn't expecting... this."

Fool gave the man a cheshire smile.

"Why not? A beautiful day to spend with someone I hold so nice and dear to the heart?"

Misuta sat down in a huff, but Fool had noticed those flushed cheeks immediately.

"... It... is nice today, you're right."

"As I am so often~"

Fool deftly landed on his behind beside Misuta, twirling his baton in his limber hands before settling it down upon the blanket beneath.

Today, there'll be no sun nor moon, just him and the heart stealer beside him.

Oh yes...

"What's in the basket? We can't eat..."

Misuta asks a very promising question, responded to with a curved eye smile.

"Oh, my sweet man~ I'm very glad you asked!"

Fool reaches out, lugging the basket closer before popping the lid up, exposing its treasures like a trove untold.

"Books-?"

"I know how much you love reading, so, I may have sneaked a few books from our little Sweetling~"

A leer was sent the fool's way.

"You stole from them."

'Not unlike how you stole my heart', Fool was so close to saying the words on his very lips, yet he refrained, it was too soon.

"No, no, this fool would never go so low. My... what do you take me for?"

Fool had leant back, a hand to his chest in mock offense, yet he peeked open an eye to view Misuta as silence ringed between them.

Crossed arms met him, a single raised eyebrow with the most unamused expression greeted him in return.

"A thief."

"You hurt me."

"Good."

To anyone else, it'd be rude, but the two shared a coupling laughter.

Misuta would reach into the basket, pulling out the top book.

'The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe'

Misuta hummed in thought, sitting back on a palm as he flipped open the hardcover entertainment, eyes already starting to flitter over the words and read.

Fool picked up his own book, yet he knew he wouldn't be reading, for his attention was taken by another, just as intriguing, thing.

Minutes passed, a comfortable silence settling between the two, one reading, the other attempting.

Fool took in no information, his gaze glancing up to the source of his warmth and love that had spiraled way out of his control.

He wanted to reach out, hold Misuta close to him and never let go, yet there was something holding him back, he wasn't sure...

"Fool...?"

Misuta was looking up at him, why was he so close suddenly? Fool shifted an arm, realizing exactly what was going on.

In his little daydream, he had indeed gotten closer to Misuta, their bodies touching, and Fool's arm had wrapped around Misuta's back, fingers a breath away from his waist.

Fool brought his mismatch up, meeting Misuta's own fuchsia.

"I-I..."

For once, Fool was speechless, his smile drooping at the corners as a flood of nerves was thrust upon him, he's sure he'd be sweating if he could.

He was frozen in place, staring, fake heart pounding with real love, one he felt when around the man in his arms, and the precious Sweetling.

Time stilled as the two stayed in their places, like deer under a scope, they were too nervous to move.

Until Misuta's eyes flicked down.

Fool took that as a sign.

He leant in, lips pressing to Misuta's so softly, he'd have melted, and felt like he would when the pressure was returned soon enough.

Fool's book fell to his lap as he brought a hand up to caress Misuta's face, a small order to stay where he was, yet neither of them wanted to pull away, not even for a second.

They caressed each other, eyes closed as they laid in their shared embrace, an arm tightening around a waist, pulled closer.

Until, they parted, while they had no breath to lose, they still wanted to see one another.

Eyes opened, and their love filled eyes met once more, a deeper understanding now felt within the two.

"Cariad… I… Rwy'n dy garu di…"

Misuta blinked at the foreign words before a soft laugh escaped his lips, and he presses another kiss to Fool's own.

"私も愛しているよ."

A mutual agreement of love, Fool almost couldn't believe it.

He wrapped his other arm around Misuta, hoisting the man upon his awaiting lap, making sure Misuta couldn't escape his grasp now that he was finally his.

"Oh… thank the very Heavens…"

Fool whispered into Misuta's neck, a sigh escaping the man as arms wrapped around his neck.

"Fool…"

"Mm… already with the pet names?"

Misuta rolled his eyes, though his amusement was as clear as the very sky they were under.

"Idiot."

"So mean to me…~ How could you be so rude to your boyfriend~"

They both stilled at that, realization dawning on each of their faces. Boyfriend.

They… are together.

They're in love.

A fluffy hood buried itself into Fool's chest, a heat being felt through Fool's flowy shirt.

"バカ…バカ…バカ…バカ…"

Fool laughed his sweet bird song laugh, his arms bringing Misuta closer to him even still, offering comfort to the flustered man.

"Mm… your stupid."

Stupidly in love.

For @venomous-qwille's gorgeous au Ghost in the Machien that hosts the best characters I've seen written in fiction and have my heart in a death grip <3

#sunny writings #sunny drabbles #misool #mysool #gitm au #qwille-la-qwille #misuta moon #fool eclipse #i'mnot fucking normal about them #iveb never been normal #i lvove #GAY #ROIOTS #RAAAA

[20-th-centurygirl]

nsfw alphabet

charles leclerc x reader

a/n: you all loved my levi one so i thought i'd do one for charles 🤭 i have also never written for an f1 driver so pls be nice ☹️

navigation masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

king of aftercare idc ! literally will not rest until he's pampered you and you're asleep. he could be falling asleep but would still make sure he's helped you shower, cleaned up and got you something to eat :(

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Charles is the boob man ! always has to be touching them in some way, falls asleep either lying on them or holding them idc

on him it's his arms and hands ! he knows how much you love them so he's always flexing them or showing off the veins on purpose bc he's annoying like that. he loves it when he catches you just staring at his hands or absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

loves finishing on your boobs or in you 🤭

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

secretly really wants to catch you touching yourself, preferably in one of his t shirts

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he knows what he's doing but he's also not super experienced

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary or cowgirl. he's a simple man. if he can see your face when he's fucking you he's happy

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

depends on his mood. if he's stressed from a race he's super serious but if it was just super lazy soft sex he'd be all giggly bc he can't believe your his and you make him super giddy

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

honestly i think he'd have very little to no hair

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

so so romantic it's ridiculous. i'm talking holding your hand, kissing all over you, telling him he loves you and that you're beautiful every 5 seconds

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

very rarely gets himself off when you're both at home bc you're almost always ready to help him. if he's away he'll facetime you or go through the photos he has of you 🤭

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

charles seems quite vanilla. i think he'd be into letting you take control though

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

always at your own house bc he knows it's private but he wouldn't say no to car sex 🤭

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

literally anything. you could just smile at him and he needs you straight away

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything super rough bc there's no way he's gonna hurt his girl

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

charles leclerc created the term munch idc. he literally cannot get enough of being between your thighs and it just sends him crazy knowing he can turn you into a complete mess with just his tongue

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

normally just so so soft and loving. Charles always makes sure to take his time so you know just how much he appreciates and loves you

but if he's had a bad race he's so rough and will just casually manhandle you. you always wake up the next morning covered in hickies and bruises

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

loves a quickie before and after a race 🤭

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he's not a big risk taker bc he knows his career could be ruined and he also doesn't want to embarass you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

i think he'd have 1 or 2 rounds a few times in the day instead of loads of rounds in one day

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

in the start of your relationship he was completely against them but after a few months he changed his mind bc he knows how long you're actually apart and he needs to make sure his girls always getting the best treatment 🤭

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

always cracks super early when he's teasing you bc he ends up feeling bad ☹️

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

isn't dead silent but he also doesn't make loads of noise so he can focus on the noises you're making

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

is obsessed with marking you up ! loves leaving hickies on you and he goes crazy when you give him some

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

massive.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

soo high he literally can't ever get enough of you

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

this man loves a nap so once he knows you're okay and comfortable he's snoozing straight away

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader

[vhstown]

hobie brown ★ general headcanons

content/warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of violence, implied abandonment (?), depictions of fictional dystopian govt + police

a/n: it's about time innit 😭😭😭 a couple little thoughts about the guy that has taken over my brain for the past 6 months give it up for spider punk ‼️ very much inspired by @qiupachups's hcs go check em out here

Hobie tends to code-switch a lot depending on who he's around. At the Spider-society, he tones his accent down so people can understand him, but speaks in his natural accent around the mandem & people he likes (e.g. Miles 😁) He's the menace EVER though so he dials the Cockney up to 100 when he's fighting cops outside of the East End because they don't understand it 💀

Even though his handwriting is... atrocious, it's actually because he's picked up the style of ransom notes. In his universe, any sort of communication can be intercepted, so it's better that he can't be identified by his handwriting. That's why it's always changing, and he's half-decent at forgery too.

Speaking of writing, he can do a bunch of pen tricks. It's almost annoying how good he is at it, and if you were to ask him how, he'd just shrug. He's just that guy, you know?

His universe's Aunt May is a lovely lady from the West Indies and she runs F.E.A.S.T in Camden. They're not actually related, but he'll always see her as his aunt. She definitely helped him out after a rough patch in his life, and he volunteers often at the shelter. Everyone there has just accepted the 7ft punk walking around a couple days a week giving out breakfast and coffee.

Hobie is also bizarrely resourceful. He has a LOT of plants in his boat, and some of them grow vegetables! He knows all about gardening and makes the best preserves and soups. It's a good time to be at F.E.A.S.T when Hobie comes in with his little cloth bag full of veggie goodness.

About the rest of his family, Hobie's parents... He doesn't even know who they are himself, to be honest — not like he wants to. However, he does have siblings and a few close cousins. They're all separated, but Hobie does his best to find them. He's the oldest of them all (so far, at least?) and though they don't see him much like a brother at first, he makes sure they're taken care of, regardless of how much younger they are than him. They're always running around F.E.A.S.T, so on the days where Hobie isn't there, he can be sure that Aunt May has a few little helpers (though they're quickly growing taller than her...)

Good with animals. Even the ones that seem a bit rabid warm up to him after a little while. He knows when to leave them alone, when to give them attention, what to feed them, etc. That's why it's not unusual to see them following him around, and a bunch of kittens at his feet eating while he eats his own lunch.

Not actually a big drinker. I like to think he only has a couple of drinks or is just an insane heavyweight because there's no way he's gonna be dismantling the dictatorship if he's piss drunk. There's been a couple times where he's knackered after a night out, though. Just another reason to hate mornings, it looks like.

Most of the stickers on his guitar are from different shows and rallies he's been to, and/or organised, but only a few out of the hundreds he's been to (there's only so much space on a guitar, after all.) It's almost like a little look through his life since he joined the punk scene. Besides, who wouldn't want to beat your local government-made villain over the head with a picture of a cartoon dog?

Absolutely, utterly, undeniably terrible at singing — or is he? Not exactly. He can hum just fine, so singing should be a piece of cake, right? He's alright at a few songs, but "happy birthday" isn't exactly something you'd be performing at the Royal Opera House (he does anyway, but that's a story for another day. Fisk's 56th birthday goes just swimmingly with Spider-Punk on the front of the news.)

Despite that, he's not particularly fond of being known as "Spider-Punk". His Spider identity isn't really meant to be identified, despite how loud his whole get-up is. He's got a lot of people depending on him, and he's careful to never leave a trace of his real identity. That also means, however, that pretty much every punk in the area has a target on their back — let's just say Hobie's got a little "BEATING UP BLUE BOTTLES 101" on a Saturday morning for all his punk friends.

Since the government's got little recording devices and cameras everywhere, Hobie's taken it upon himself to... "borrow" them. He's got a couple mates good with tech, so he's on the scene pretty fast with his own crime-tracking network — pretty sick.

In fact, Hobie's friends (in his universe and others) are pretty useful for more than a few things. For pretty much every situation, he "knows a guy", whether that's related to tech, music, clothing, art, putting together a bunch of random stolen parts to make a dimension watch...

iN CAse

it dON'T

WoRK ouT

— HoBie

🎸💫🕸️

@phoenixinthefiles (since i alr tagged chewy lol)

hey hey hi these r a bit shorter than usual but i just wanted to put these little thoughts out there ^^ might make a part 2 if i have any more thoughts idk we'll see!

rbs super appreciated have a good day and check out my atsv masterlist here!

#hobie brown #hobart brown #spider punk #hobie brown headcanons #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv headcanons #vhstown

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

Tʜᴇ Wᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ Yᴏᴜʀ Wᴏʀᴅs | Pᴀʀᴛ 3

➜ Pairing: Aonung x fem!sully!reader

➜ Warnings: kissing, fluff, not properly proof read.

➜ Word Count: 0.9k

➜ Notes: Thank you for 300??? Like this is honestly insane, I appreciate all the love I’ve received for this mini series, y’all are amazing! Please tell me if I forgot any warnings, and a reminder that my inbox is always open for asks!

Also I feel like this is kinda bad...anyways enjoy <3

Pᴀʀᴛ 1 | Pᴀʀᴛ 2 | Pᴀʀᴛ 3

Aᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

Aonung watched from afar as you handed the necklace to Tsireya, a shy smile on your face as she took it from you and examined it happily. She pulled you into a hug with a bright smile, thanking you profusely and complementing your work before tying it around her neck.  

A sense of jealousy bubbled within the boy as he watched the friendly exchange. Since when had you been friends? Let alone friends close enough to gift each other things.  

It wasn’t fair, he thought, that you were gifting things to a practical stranger while shoving him - someone who you knew and had showed very obvious romantic interest in you, or at least to his standards - was being shoved aside.  

He turned away, unable to watch as Tsireya ran her fingers across the finely woven thread and handpicked stones that sat on her neck and walked away.  

Aonung made many more little check-ins on you in the next few days, often times his time was cut short by his own jealousy or sorrow. He was following you around like a lost puppy and although he would never admit it, in the short time you had stopped speaking to him, he had actually come to miss you. You’d been on his mind constantly as he tried to figure out how to fix his actions and make up for his harsh words from the other night.  

“Hey are you even listening?” Rotxo asked as he stopped, planting his feet in the sand and looking at Aonung. 

“What- Yeah of course I am!” Aonung responded, lying straight to his teeth to his bestfriend. He'd only been half listening to Rotxo as he talked about his latest village ‘adventures’. Rotxo opened his mouth to argue that he really hadn't been, when they were interrupted by a body colliding with Aonung. Aonung looked down, a glare set on his face as he got ready to spit venom at whoever had just bumped into him, only for the words to hitch in his throat as he saw who it was.  

That was the other thing, ever since your argument with Aonung, he had been on edge, tense and extra mean. He’d begun picking on your brothers even more, waving off his friends and getting angry over the smallest of things. The boy just didn’t know how to handle losing someone over his own stupidity, and it was eating at him.  

“i’m sorr-” you began to apologize, looking up but you cut yourself off as you saw it was him. Your face fell, jerking your hands back from his torso like he’d burned you and glaring at him. He just stared down at you blankly, unsure of what to say or do – he always felt unsure around you. Suddenly the air felt thick as the two of you stared at each other. Rotxo was quick to pick up on the tension that now surrounded the two of you like an aura, mumbling something about needing to go help his father and running off.  

“Y/N...” Aonung started, and immediately you were pushing past him, refusing to waste your time on another of his bullshit apologies. He grabbed your arm, preventing you from running of and forcing you took look at his pleading gaze and your resolve crumbled. No matter how mad you were at him, your heart still seemed to be in the palm of his hands.  

“What?” you seethed, yanking your arm out of his grasp, “Are you here to tell me how ridiculous I’m being again?” he shook his head, casting his gaze to the ground and swallowing his pride as he prepared himself to be transparent with you.  

“I just – I just really miss you.” He looked guilty and regretful as he spoke, he even sounded genuine. For a moment you wanted to put it all behind you and forgive him because you’d missed him too. You blinked, snapping yourself out of your thoughts and steeling yourself. He didn’t deserve forgiveness after what he’d done. 

“Aonung I already told yo-” he sighed in frustration, mumbling curses to himself. Reaching out, he grabbed you by your forearm and pulled you into him. You stumbled forward, hands placing themselves on his chest, you opened your mouth to ask what the hell he was doing and looking up only to be cut off as he captured your lips with his. Your eyes widened in surprise as he kissed you, your brain short circuiting as you froze.  

Only when you began to feel him pull away did you come back to your sense, slipping your eyes shut and moving a hand to cup his face and pull him back down to kiss him back. He smiled into the kiss, placing his hands onto your waist as he kissed you. Hips molding against yours in a slow flurry of passion, each kiss hotter than the last until he was biting at your bottom lip gently, and then letting it go with a wet ‘pop’ as you pulled away with a small smile.

Pressing his forehead against yours, Aonung spoke,  

“You still mad at me?” he asked, and you nodded with a hum,  

“Very.”  

“I’m really sorry, I just didn’t know how to show you I liked you so I picked on you and I just took it to far, and I have no idea what you're going through but whatever it is I want to be there for you,” he said with a sigh, sincerity evident in his voice as he poured his heart out to you.  

“You could have just told me like a normal person,” you snipped in amusement.  

“Yeah...” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I’ll make it up to you though. I swear.” You nodded in agreement, placing a hungry kiss against his lips as you mumbled,  

“Let’s finish this first.”  

@oomietopia@iam-mentally-unstable@yeosxxx@heartueheartue@lola-bunn1@eywas-heir@sseleniaa@shebeast7121scared@a-romantic-twst

#adrunkskeletonsduck #x reader #avatar the way of water #aonung x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #avatar twow #Aonung fic #fluff #avatar fic #avatar