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luffington · 11 days

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fur & feathers ♡

✧.* art credit!

➤ summary: You tried your hardest to stay out of their way this time. Unsurprisingly, you ended up sandwiched between them instead. (18+)

➤ pairing: sir crocodile x afab!reader x donquixote doflamingo, crocodile x doflamingo

➤ word count: 4.2k

➤ warnings: sub!reader, mean dom!croc & meaner dom!doffy, double penetration, anal sex, size kink, belly bulge, oral (m receiving), creampie, breeding kink, degradation, objectification, power play, she/her & 'girl' used

➤ notes: purely self-indulgent filth..... i am not seeing heaven's gates

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Being Sir Crocodile’s personal secretary obviously had its benefits. Traveling to all sorts of conferences alongside him, meeting important and influential people, and always feeling protected. You lived a more lavish life than the vast majority of Alabastans, and all it took was looking the other way when documents with a winged Jolly Roger appeared on his desk. But it had some major downfalls, too, like putting up with whatever the hell was going on between your boss and that blonde feathery freak.

You tried your hardest to stay out of their way this time. Unsurprisingly, you ended up sandwiched between them instead.

Fragrant and flashy perfume clashed with the thick and heady scent of an expensive cigar, overwhelming your senses and making you dizzy. Crocodile’s lengthy cock was buried deep in your throat. You choked and sputtered around it, trying your hardest to use your mouth well and please your boss. Doflamingo’s harsh thrusts into your pussy from behind were making it difficult.

Your wrists had long lost their strength to support you, so you were positioned on your knees and elbows. The dark-haired man comfortably reclined on a stack of plush pillows, his ring-covered hand resting on the crown of your head. Doflamingo gripped your hips hard and repeatedly slammed his enormous dick inside you, practically penetrating your womb. You didn’t have to see him to know that he was maniacally grinning.

You were fully naked and on display for the two men (to be fair, the blonde was already half-naked when he entered the room). Their perfectly sculpted and scarred bodies were also completely bare, but somehow they both still had their coats on. You would have laughed at the absurdity if it didn’t remind you of their high status and how far below them you were. Or maybe it just was an unspoken challenge between them – first one to take theirs off loses.

They had already made you cum three times before they even got their dicks out. Under the guise of being a gracious host, Crocodile had allowed Doflamingo the honor of your first orgasm of the night. He had made you straddle his thigh and get yourself off by rubbing your bare cunt on his leather pants, bouncing his leg up and down and cackling sadistically at your humiliated expression. Then Crocodile had eaten you out as the other man fondled your tits, and then Doflamingo had strung you up until you couldn’t move an inch while they worked together to torture your pussy. They were each menaces on their own, but somehow sharing your body like this didn’t make their egos clash – they cooperated. It was only a matter of time until they figured out something kinky to do with Crocodile’s sand powers, and then you’d be truly fucked.

You were losing yourself in the salty taste of Crocodile’s cock, the thickness of it stretching your mouth almost painfully while your nose repeatedly brushed against his neatly groomed pubes. Slowly forcing your head up and down, never giving you more than a second to breathe. He was barely sweating, looking down at you with cold eyes as he puffed at the cigar hanging from his lips. A direct contrast to Doflamingo bullying your poor cunt and shoving your body forwards onto the other man’s lap with every thrust.

A dry finger suddenly prodded at your asshole, causing you to choke around your boss’s cock. Crocodile clicked his tongue. “Two holes at once? You’re being greedy, Doffy.” His words were teasing, a wicked smirk on his scarred face while he continued ignoring your obvious protests.

“You get to use her whenever you want. I think that’s pretty greedy.” The blonde frowned, continuing to insistently circle his fingertip around your rim. “Besides, I’m trying to do something nice for you. You can have her pussy, so I’ll take her ass.”

The dark-haired man exhaled a cloud of smoke. Without his hand holding you down, you pulled off of his dick with a lewd wet noise and spun your head to face Doflamingo. “W-wait… both… at the, ahh, same ti-ime…?” Your muddled mind tried to express your fear, knowing full well that neither of them would care. “C-can’t fit…”

“You don’t know that until you try,” Doflamingo replied with a twisted grin. Actually, he wasn’t sure why the three of you hadn’t tried it yet. Perhaps it had something to do with your size difference. Both men were unnaturally tall – the blonde often made fun of Crocodile for only being 8’4 – and their cocks were more than proportional. Each was longer than your forearm and practically matched the thickness. Your stomach felt close to bursting from just one.

Looking to your boss for help, you silently pleaded for some hint of kindness inside the man. His cold glare and cruel smile granted you none.

At first, you had assumed Crocodile was the nicer of the two, that he felt some kind of sympathy and held regard for human life. You quickly realized in horror that they were two sides of the same sadistic coin. The same need for dominance, longing for powerful positions, and lack of hesitation to step on anyone below them for their own benefit. Sure, Doflamingo used his strings very inappropriately in the bedroom. But Crocodile had never taken off his hook during sex, resulting in a few ‘accidental’ fading cuts on your back and thighs. Doflamingo was very open about his madness, while the other kept it neatly buttoned up under silk dress shirts.

“Don’t worry,” Crocodile rubbed your cheek, feigning gentleness, before saying, “We’ll make them fit.”

You gulped, feeling very much like prey caught in a fatal trap.

Doflamingo stopped his thrusts with his cock deep inside you and sucked his pointer and middle fingers in his mouth, coating them with enough spit to not rip your hole. He would never be generous enough to use actual lube.

He snickered when he caught Crocodile watching his movements and swirled his tongue teasingly around his digits. “Enjoying the view, baby?”

“I’m enjoying a break from that ridiculous smile of yours.” The other man replied smoothly. “Maybe I’ll use my fingers to shut you up the next time you say something irritating.”

“Your fingers are too rough,” the blonde pouted and shoved a long finger inside your asshole in one go, making you cry out and clench your fists. Neither man acknowledged your pained reaction, though you felt Doflamingo’s cock twitch excitedly inside you. “My mouth feels all sandy afterwards.”

Crocodile smirked to himself — he controlled every grain of sand in his body, so any bits left behind in Doflamingo’s mouth (or in his clothes, or the crevices of his body) was intentional. His gaze flickered down to you, grasping the base of his cock and timidly licking at his tip. “You can do better than that, slut.” You instantly swallowed it halfway, not daring to upset your boss.

The dark haired man let out a content sigh as he watched the beautiful scene in front of him. Your back glistened with a thin sheen of sweat and a giant red Doffy-shaped handprint still burned on your ass. The blonde’s pace had slowed down slightly so he could focus on preparing your asshole with no gentleness whatsoever. He used two digits to spread your hole wide, then spat directly inside it. You whimpered at the filthy feeling, sending pleasant vibrations through Crocodile’s cock.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Doflamingo swore, watching his saliva disappear inside you. “What a good little whore.” You unconsciously wiggled your hips at his praise.

The more he pushed and prodded deep inside you, the harder it was to focus on pleasuring the cock in your mouth. Wordlessly, Crocodile placed his hook on the back of your neck, the sharp edge dangerously close to your throat. The message was clear – you immediately got to work, cheeks hollowing and sloppily drooling around his dick.

Doflamingo nodded his chin at the heavy gold object. “You ever finger anyone with that glorified fish hook?”

Your entire body went cold. Hopefully that wasn’t a suggestion.

“No, but you can be the first to try it out.”

“Aww, Croc, you’re making me blush.” He didn’t seem even a tiny bit flustered.

Ignoring you was part of their sick game. Making you feel so incredibly small and unimportant. Nothing but a fleshlight for two of the most powerful men in the world to share while they bickered among themselves.

Trying to regain their focus, you clenched your holes and moaned loudly. “Shh, darling,” Crocodile cooed mockingly. “The adults are talking.”

You hated how much that humiliation turned you on and made your core ache with need.

“Well, she seems about ready.” Doflamingo chuckled, unceremoniously pulling out of your swollen pussy, his cock angry and red and shining with your juices. You fought to keep your lower half from collapsing to the bed. “How do you wanna do this?”

You looked up at Crocodile questioningly, not daring to take his dick out of your mouth yet. Your boss gently tugged at your hair and you raised your head, coughing and sputtering for air. You suddenly felt a shameful sense of emptiness – you missed having your holes stuffed full.

He stroked the back of your head as if you were his pet. “Any ideas, doll?”

It was the first time all night that they asked for your opinion, that you weren’t passively taking every bit of pleasure and pain that they graciously gave you. You gulped nervously, looking between both men. Doflamingo seemed especially excited to hear you pick your poison.

“M-maybe… I could… sit in your laps?” You replied timidly, unsure if your input even mattered.

“Is that a question or an answer?” Crocodile raised an eyebrow.

As calm and collected as both men seemed, you could tell they were growing impatient. Their cocks dripped precum and subtly twitched with need. You were desperate for stimulation, too, so you steeled your hazy mind and nodded resolutely. “I want to sit in your laps. Feel you both so deep inside me. I… I might go crazy if you don’t fuck me.” You turned to Doflamingo, batted your eyes innocently, and added, “I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

The blonde threw his head back and moaned exaggeratedly. “Fuck, baby, you’re straight out of my wet dreams. Why don’t you visit Dressrosa sometime?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Crocodile gave the man a hard glare, helping your shaky body into a sitting position. “She’s mine. The best secretary I’ve had in years.”

Doflamingo cackled. “I forgot she’s your fucking employee! There’s no way you two actually get any work done. I bet I can open any file cabinet in your office and find cum stains on those papers.”

“Open anything in my office and I’ll throw you in my Sea Prism Stone cell.”

You rolled your eyes as you maneuvered yourself into Crocodile’s lap, using his shoulders for support as you straddled his slightly spread thighs. Their twisted flirting was seemingly endless. Couldn’t they have picked a better time?

“Don’t get bratty, darling,” he snickered and quickly slapped your breast, making you yelp in surprise. “Unless you can’t survive another minute without our dicks inside you.”

You nodded and bit your lip, feeling your juices trickle out of your hole and drop down your leg. “Please, sir, I need you. Need you both.” Crocodile hummed in satisfaction – he had trained you so well. He pressed an intoxicating open-mouthed kiss to your jaw and simultaneously twisted your nipple.

“Starting without me isn’t fair.” Doflamingo grumbled petulantly as he shuffled into place behind you. It took a few tries until he found a way to comfortably tangle his hairy legs around Crocodile’s, their pelvises almost pressed together and his massive cock smacking against your spine. The blonde bit your earlobe and laughed when you flinched.

Your fists clenched onto Crocodile’s smooth fur jacket, breasts flush against his muscular pecs, while soft and wispy feathers grazed your back and sent ticklish shivers down your spine. The air felt electric with anticipation and excitement and pure unadulterated lust. Your body might hate you the next morning for this — no, you’d feel the aftermath of their desire for at least a few days. But at that moment, you needed your holes stuffed full more than you needed oxygen.

With a shaky breath, you stood on your knees, their long cocks still barely fitting underneath you. Doflamingo tapped the crown of his dick against your rim before holding it steady. They waited with bated breath for you to sink down.

Two Warlords were inside you.

You felt like your body was ripping in half. And yet the pain made you even wetter, a debauched moan spilling from your lips and eyes rolling back into your skull. Both men simultaneously groaned in satisfaction, an angelic choir of devils singing your praise. Being on top gave you a refreshing sense of control… one that didn’t last very long.

Crocodile’s hand settled on your hip to gently coax you down, while Doflamingo pressed hard on your shoulders. When it was finally too much and your body refused to take any more – not even halfway down their massive lengths – tight strings wound around your thighs and forced you down the rest of the way. You cried out in anguish, speared on their massive cocks.

Thankfully, the two men let you adjust once you had their entire lengths inside you and rested in their laps. You shuddered in their hold, trying your best to calm your rapid heartbeat. Perhaps there was a hint of kindness in their decision, but it was more likely for their own benefit. A broken toy was no fun to play with and they weren’t even close to being done with you.

Crocodile reclined against the bed’s headboard and let out a low whistle. “Fuck,” he swore in a gravelly voice, eyes half-lidded and seemingly hypnotized. “You are so fucking full.”

You looked down in perverted fascination to see your stomach bulging unnaturally, almost making you appear pregnant. He ran his hand over the well-defined outline of his cock and you felt it twitch inside you excitedly.

“What? No fair, you’re hogging the view. Let me see.” Doflamingo pouted, leaning over your shoulder. He giggled ferociously at the sight. “Oh, that’s sexy as hell.” The hand that wasn’t manipulating his strings joined Crocodile’s to rub over your bulging belly, applying pressure to your womb and making you keen. “That feels good, huh? You like when we force our way inside your tight little holes and rearrange your guts?”

Your face burned red at his filthy words but you nodded rapidly. Your boss frowned and pinched your clit, causing wetness to pool in your eyes. “I thought I taught you to use your words.”

“Y-Yes, sir, I love it.” Doflamingo’s long tongue snaked out to lap away the single teardrop running down your cheek.

“So obedient.” He nuzzled into your neck almost affectionately. “So good for us.”

Moments like this made you question what your relationship with them was. Sure, you were definitely more of a prized possession than a romantic partner, but maybe you possessed them in a different way. You would never voice that thought aloud, but it’s what prevented you from quitting your job, getting the hell out of Alabasta, and finding an actual partner and decent life somewhere else. They could have anyone in the world they desired, but Crocodile hadn’t been with anyone besides Doflamingo and you since the first time he fucked you on his office desk, much too horny to try to seduce you back to his bedroom.

And while you didn’t know what the other Warlord got up to in his own kingdom, at the very least, he always came back for more. Doflamingo could tell vicious lies dripping with sugar like no one else, but part of you hoped there was some truth in calling you gorgeous and perfect and his good little whore.

You knew you were probably deluding yourself, but Doflamingo’s warm mouth sucking marks into your throat and Crocodile’s palm rubbing over your stomach soothingly made your heart ache and veins burn.

“Alright, enough. Let’s get started.” The blonde used his powers to raise your body slowly, revealing their cocks glistening with your juices.

“No strings,” Crocodile interrupted, but added with a smirk, “Yet. Let her do it herself for now.”

Doflamingo licked his lips and leaned back on his hands leisurely. His strings loosened but didn’t disappear. “Show me what you’ve got, puppet.”

This was a test. There would be hell to pay if you failed, though you weren’t sure if passing was humanly possible. You continued to rise up at the pace Doflamingo’s strings had set, inch by delicious inch rubbing against your walls until only the tips were inside you. “You’re both so big,” you bit your lip seductively. “I feel so empty without your dicks.”

Then you quickly sank back down to the base, knocking the air out of your lungs. Head flying back to rest on the blonde man’s feather-coated shoulder. Crocodile’s cock kissed your cervix as Doflamingo’s bullied its way inside your asshole deeper than anything was meant to go.

You repeated the motion again and again, doing your best to clench your holes tight and take their entire lengths every time.

“This is getting boring,” the blonde rolled his eyes impatiently. A subtle twitch of his fingers forced you onto your knees then slammed you back down to their laps, their balls slapping against your sensitive skin. You were too overwhelmed to even comprehend what happened, but the man continued to manipulate your body at a brutal pace.

“Much better.” Crocodile agreed, taking in your blank expression and glazed-over eyes. Your mind completely shut off, focused on receiving every bit of carnal pleasure that the two Warlords graciously gave you. You were completely under their control and at their mercy. Your boss cooed at you mockingly. “Poor girl. There’s not a thought in that pretty little head of yours, huh, doll?”

Your silence answered his question so perfectly that he didn’t even punish you for not responding.

“She fucking loves it. Look at her drool.” Doflamingo grabbed your chin and forced you to face him. He delighted in your debauched expression, tongue lolling out of your mouth, before leaning back and slapping your ass. Your body spasmed around their cocks.

The blonde used his strings to hold you down as far as possible, admiring the bulge in your stomach again with a sick grin. You hardly noticed it — you hardly noticed anything at this point. Then he ripped Crocodile’s lit cigar from the corner of his mouth and haphazardly threw it across the room. Miraculously, nothing caught on fire.

“That was expensive.” Crocodile snarled.

“I don’t care about your fucking tobacco.” Doflamingo grabbed the other man’s slicked-back hair and slammed their lips together in a hungry kiss that was all teeth and tongue. You watched dazedly as they licked at each other’s mouths like feral animals. Matching each other’s intensity and fighting to maintain their dominance. With his free hand, the blonde groped your breast, squeezing it in his large palm before rolling your nipple between his fingers.

The men pulled away, panting heavily from the intense kiss. A thick string of saliva kept their lips connected. Doflamingo broke it by swiping his tongue across Crocodile’s reddened bottom lip.

“Let’s get her pregnant, Croc. I want her tits swollen with milk so I can suck them dry.” You felt a shiver run through your entire body. What a terrifying, deranged, yet tempting thought. You didn’t dare voice your thoughts, but the blonde still felt your ass clench around his cock. He cackled and roughly tugged at your nipple. “I think our little girl likes that idea.”

Crocodile’s dark eyes turned to you. “Consider yourself lucky that he’s not in your pussy.” As if he was wearing a condom himself. As if he even owned condoms.

Doflamingo suddenly leaned forward and knocked you down with his weight, causing you and Crocodile to fall like dominos. The dark-haired man was almost flat on his back and you were crushed between their bodies, breasts uncomfortably squished against your boss’s fleshy chest. A cloud of pink feathers suddenly encompassed you, hanging loosely from the blonde’s shoulders and fully caging you in. Now that he was on top, he released the strings from around your thighs. Doflamingo gave a particularly harsh thrust forward and you yelped, the change in angle hitting an extra sensitive part of you. Crocodile’s cock insistently pressed against your g-spot.

The blonde placed his hand softly on Crocodile’s cheek, caressing the sharp line of his jaw. Very out of place, very unlike Doffy. But when he pulled away, a single thin thread followed his fingertip like a spider weaving a web.

“Get this fucking thing off of me.” The dark-haired man growled, grabbing at where it attached to his jaw in vain. Panic raced through your mind — you didn’t want to literally be in the middle of their fight. But Crocodile didn’t seem truly angry, more annoyed that this happened again.

“I’ll be nice,” he chuckled menacingly. He slowly moved his pointer finger in a come-hither motion and Crocodile’s hips followed the same upwards path, pushing his cock even further inside you. “See? Just wanted to take the lead.”

Doflamingo immediately resumed his inhuman pace, pistoning in and out and making your ass cheeks jiggle from the impact. One hand mimicked marionette motions as he manipulated Crocodile into mirroring his speed and ferocity, and the other held your hip firmly in place. He perfectly timed their thrusts so they pulled out and pushed in at the same exact time, knocking the air out of your lungs and setting your core on fire.

As godly as both men appeared, they were still very much human and rapidly approaching their orgasms. Your boss’s chest heaved underneath you, eyelids fluttering shut and pink dusting his cheeks. Doflamingo panted like a wild beast, letting out breathy, excited giggles at the sight of his two pretty puppets. A few stray feathers had fallen off his coat which landed in Crocodile’s messy hair and clung to your sticky skin. The overwhelming need to possess and consume both of you made the blonde’s head spin.

You raised your head from where it was buried in your Crocodile’s chest, now covered in a puddle of your drool. “Please, s-sirs, I need-“ You were interrupted by Doflamingo deftly rubbing your neglected clit in tight circles. You choked on your words, looking at your boss pleadingly.

“You may cum, darling.” Crocodile offered you a merciful smile.

Stars flashed before your eyes and you swore you ascended to heaven, every nerve in your body tingling and toes curling tightly as you cried out the names of your saviors, before you came crashing down to earth with an unabashed and sinful drawn-out moan. Moments after that bright white light washed over you, thick white cum exploded in both of your holes as the Warlords cried out simultaneously. Doflamingo kept Crocodile’s hips flush against your body as his heavy balls stuffed you full and only lowered them when he had let out his final spurts.

“Fuck.” The blonde’s breath caught in his throat as he watched his cum spill out around his length, dripping out of your ass onto Crocodile’s dick underneath. You had never felt so used, so filthy, and fuck did it feel incredible.

The dark-haired man felt your heart beating rapidly against him and noticed you slowly slip into darkness, your consciousness fading. “Stay with us, doll.” He stroked your hair and ran his rough thumb over your cheek.

You smiled, dazed and dopey. “Th… thank you…”

“Taking everything we give you and thanking us after… absolutely fucking perfect.” Doflamingo breathed heavily. You wailed from sensitivity as he pulled his cock out of your abused hole and the man beneath you followed suit. More globs of cum dripped out of your pussy and ass and spilled onto Crocodile’s fur coat sprawled out beneath him. Doflamingo giggled in delight. “Better wash that for him tomorrow, little girl.”

“She’s a secretary, not a servant.” Crocodile rolled his eyes, knowing that anyone in a position lower than Doffy’s was interchangeable to him. He swiped two fingers down the cleft of your ass, collecting sticky strings of cum and making your oversensitive body jolt. “But good girls clean up their messes, right?”

You obediently sucked his fingers clean, swirling your tongue around his digits and moaning like a whore at the salty taste of their mixed semen.

Doflamingo untangled his body from yours and reclined back with a satisfied sigh. “When’s round two?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull, but Crocodile spoke before you could protest — his words held more weight than yours, after all. “That was round four for her. It’s a miracle that your dick hasn’t killed someone yet.”

“Fine, I’ll wait.” He pouted like a spoiled child. “But don’t go soft on me, Croc. You’re the only one who’s fun enough to share toys with.”

Crocodile rolled you off of his chest none too gently, but thankfully, you had a plush blanket and padded mattress to land upon. “If we’re both ready to go, why not do a round without her?” His predatory gaze met yours. “I’m sure she would love to watch.”

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rxzennia · 9 days

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rare critters

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 a healthy dose of curiosity (ft. dr ratio) yall if i have to write another report i think i might kms sorry im 3 days late lol i was busy making concept art

when dr ratio somehow acquired a few rare critters from herta space station, he thought of one person:

aventurine.

if he’s so bad at looking after himself, maybe he could take care of something else instead. and these cat cakes are pretty tame and adorable… seems just right for him.

ratio sent a text to let aventurine know he’s coming to drop off some souvenirs

said souvenirs being these critters

ratio has one on top of his head and two in one arm as he rings the bell

it’s sometime in the afternoon, and you’re not around

(you’re attending a meeting on aventurine’s behalf so he can have a longer lunch break)

(you do that pretty often, actually. that’s why your boss can have entire afternoons or evenings to himself)

nothing would’ve prepared ratio for what he sees when aventurine opens the door

one, no, two? no, three?? faceless serpents slithering around his feet

and one really huge one around his neck???

their maws, aeons, their maws. as stunned as ratio is, he’s also scared shitless

they remind him of a certain aeon and he isn’t sure if he liked the implications

though, that aeon has long since disappeared…

the very moment the serpents sniffed something in the air, they’re all right up in ratio’s face

the trash cakes are definitely scared shitless

they’re quivering and whimpering

ratio is trying so hard to hide his unease

“since when did you have pets, gambler?”

“oh, they’re my assistant’s – don’t bite, please.”

and these dangerous, dangerous noodles listened???

they backed off obediently while still scenting the air again and again

at least they’re not one hair away from ratio anymore?

wait, more importantly…

“you’re living with your assistant?” ratio can’t help but ask. “and… they brought their pets over?”

technically, the slithery creatures around the house aren’t your pets, they’re literally parts of you, but does aventurine want to get into the details? not particularly.

“doctor, it’d be heartless of me to tell them to leave their pets,” aventurine chuckled, “it’s a long story. are these…?”

“i thought pets would do you some good. seems like your assistant has the same idea.” ratio passes the three cakes over to him. “here – from the space station.”

aventurine tells the especially thick leviathan on his neck to get off so he could hold the trash cakes

more like patting its body a few times until it got the signal and slid off of him

the cakes like him!

once he’s passed the sniff test, the cakes are all over him

they do remind him of someone, with those yellow eyes and grey… trash can(?) like body…

he holds them carefully, because unlike your creatures, he needs to hold onto these little guys

else they’d fall

invites ratio in while he’s at it, and he sits down to properly examine them

ratio watches aventurine for a moment, until your serpents catch his attention

oh, he’s so unnerved by them, but also…

he’s so curious! his scholarly senses are telling him to seize the opportunity!

are they really the same creatures as the ones depicted in the scriptures for oroboros?

how did aventurine get his hands on them? or rather, how did you get your hands on them?

and why are they so, so… docile, if they are really what he thinks they are?

what have you done!? how did you get them to be your pets?

his academic interest in you might have just skyrocketed

he engages in a staring contest with a creature with no eyes

somehow, somehow he just knows it’s a staring contest

he’s debating between approaching or not

they look like they would snap his neck before he could even react

“don’t try it, doctor,” aventurine warns, reading ratio’s actions from a mile away, “they’ll probably bite.”

“huh…” ratio makes a sound of pure wonder as he stands still, staring at the few noodles slithering over each other and scenting the air around him. “how did you tame them, then?”

“i didn’t.” aventurine shrugs as he plays with the new critters in his arms. “just sit tight, my assistant should be back soon.”

does that mean you’re the one deciding who gets to touch your serpents and who doesn't???

meanwhile aventurine has taken to the cakes from the space station

they’re so delicate and adorable, with their huge eyes and how stretchy they are

such a contrast to your huge serpents

your serpents are curious about them too, it seems

they keep trying to slither up aventurine’s legs

he has to keep pushing them down, all the while their maws opened and closed

trying to get a feel for the taste of these critters

not trying to outright eat them, just trying to get a taste

ratio is itching to just… grab one of your noodles

he can’t

how devastating

just then, the door opens with a click

“i’m home, aven.” you enter and practically throws your shoes off.

the sudden need to retain some semblance of formality in your home feels foreign to you now, but you’ve sensed someone else’s presence. it can’t be helped, even if the name aven feels odd on your tongue.

weird, aventurine usually runs out the moment he hears you

when you made your way to the living room, you see him and… some random guy?

said random guy looks like he’s into greek mythology?

is he like zeus or something

no, more like male athena or something

“oh, welcome back!” aventurine perks up as he lifts one of the cakes and shows it to you like a proud parent. “look at these little guys!”

your eyes never quite look away from the stranger, but you also dazedly take the critter into your arms. “this is…”

you immediately catch ratio’s eye – the way you carry yourself, the way the ends of your scarf seem to move on their own, and the way the few serpents find their way up your neck without so much as trying to touch the cake in your hands (even though they’ve been trying to taste it when it was in aventurine’s arms).

“veritas ratio.” he stands up before aventurine could introduce him and offers you a handshake. “you might know me as dr ratio of the intelligentsia guild.”

you stare at him without much of a reaction

his hand stays outstretched as he watches you expectantly

after a few seconds, you give his hand a firm shake and introduce yourself

you do know him, actually, you’ve read a few of his works

you quite liked his takes on philosophy and natural theology

he’s very insightful for a mortal

“can i help you?” you ask, because you don’t think ratio would bother talking to you if he hadn't been curious about something.

“your pets are most fascinating,” he gets straight to the point, “may i examine them?”

???

your pets?

the serpents?

you look to aventurine, who just turns away like he didn’t tell ratio those are your pets

you pinch the bridge of your nose and exhales exasperatedly

then again, perhaps calling them your pets is the best course of action right now

because the other option is spilling the beans about yourself

yeah

so… nice save, aventurine

you set down the critter in your arms on a nearby table and turn to face the doctor

“here.” you pick up one of your leviathans and guide it over to ratio. “they might do… things around you, but they won’t hurt you.”

ratio tries not to flinch when the heavy leviathan slither up his arm and coil around his neck loosely, but he winces and backs away slightly anyway. “how are you so certain?” he watches the creature with so much wonder as it scents him, then lifts its head so he can stare at it properly. or the other way around; so it can stare at him properly. who knows.

a healthy dose of cynicism is always good

it’s not like you don’t understand where he’s coming from

you shrug, because you really have no better answer without outing yourself

“i have them trained.” you say, but at this point you’re just pulling shit out of your ass

aventurine immediately covers his mouth to hide a snort

you shoot him a quick glare

you run a hand along its smooth body to show ratio that yes, he can touch them

its maw opens a little wider and drools a little onto the carpet

ratio carefully puts his hand on top of its head

it turns its head on contact and nudges against his hand

trying to scent the thing touching it (aka ratio’s hand)

but it doesn’t do anything other than what appears to be purely harmless scenting

could this possibly be the subject of his next paper?

“don’t think about it, doctor.” you cut him off the moment you see the telltale glint of academic interest in his eyes.

“i must disagree; they are of leviathan descent, are they not?” ratio asks, now caressing the big noodle with both hands and handling it with less hesitation than before, “this is of utmost significance; they might shed some light on the mystery of oroboros the voracity.”

you narrow your eyes at ratio

he doesn’t even try to prod around the subject, he just hits you in the face with it

as expected of such an erudite scholar, but still

(aventurine is watching the interaction with much interest while he plays with the cats)

(it’s like he’s enjoying the show)

(the remaining free serpents of yours has coiled up by his feet and fallen asleep)

(since they’ve realized aventurine doesn’t want them near the cakes)

you don’t want to bring too much attention to yourself, or your serpents

you don’t want things about oroboros to spread, either

in fact, you’re quite thankful to the enigmata and the ipc for heavily censoring them

“with all due respect, i refuse.” you do not allow any room for disagreement. “you are prepared to uncover the truth. is the rest of the cosmos ready?”

that’s not all of your argument, but the one you determine would be enough to keep ratio from conducting and publishing research about leviathans for now. oh, right – you’re not against ratio’s curiosity. you simply don’t want that curiosity to spread far and wide.

ratio frowns, not expecting such a swift rejection from you, but you do have a point. he’s a little blinded by his excitement.

your rejection sounds a little personal, if aventurine may say so himself

to ratio, it is very much just you being overprotective of your pets

as all pet owners do

to be fair, it’s hard to say. ratio is a sharp man

you stare at him, and he stares at you

the leviathan hanging on his neck tilts its head in confusion

if ratio is anything, he’s persistent

especially when it comes to knowledge

he opens his mouth to try to convince you again

you beat him to it and raise a hand to stop him from talking. “you can examine them for as long as you do not make publications.”

ratio is taken aback, his brows furrowing as you give him permission for further interaction with these descendants of ancient leviathans. this is your first meeting, so why –

in fact, aventurine is wondering the same thing

like, why are you getting along with the doctor so well when you’ve only met today

he’s not jealous or anything, he just has a huge question mark on your reactions

you’re usually very, very guarded against people who ask questions

especially about your scarf

but then ratio did see your serpents slithering around

perhaps you see no way of weaselling your way out of this?

anyway

if we’re being honest, ratio also has a huge question mark on your reactions

“i am a fan of your philosophical works,” you say, guiding your serpent back around you, “hence i am willing to satisfy your curiosity… provided you agree to my terms. think of it as an invitation.”

ratio takes a moment to mull over your words. to think that someone under the ipc has read multiple of his works, and has enjoyed them… is that why you are willing to compromise? but, well… you give him a feeling of a learned person. perhaps he will enjoy debating you.

“very well, that is good enough.” he nods, even if he still feels just a little bit disappointed, he’s anticipating a good back-and-forth with you already. “in that case…”

“i will let you know when i am free.” you sit down next to aventurine and let the critters on his lap crawl over to you and knead your thigh with their little paws. “and, doctor?”

it’s apparent to you that ratio has the same thought as you did when you decided to let your serpents drop their disguises at home. you glance towards aventurine next to you, then back at the doctor.

“thanks for the critters.”

#honkai star rail #aventurine #dr ratio #aventurine x reader #dr ratio x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales #honkai star rail x reader

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ihave-atummyache · 19 days

Text

3 way with ur roomie, hey roomie

ot8 blurb/imagine

stray kids

just my personal thoughts on the topic of ur skz!bf sharing u with another member (;

1.5 words

just hard thoughts i guess? idk im just horny and thinking

bang chan:

would share u with seungmin.

i feel like they would have very different approaches to how they are intimate, however, they both very much so give off brat tamer vibes in my opinion! i think seungmin would be more of a hard!dom brat tamer and chan would be more of a soft!dom brat tamer or even like more of an emotional brat tamer than a physical one. in the context that seungmin would spank you, smack you, spit on you, degrade you, chan would rather have you write that youre sorry 100 times on a piece of paper. im sorry its hot idk dont ask me!

i think their dynamic would work well together because they are so opposite but also so similar that it would be really easy to break you.

also they both would definitely love to see you cry. idk thats what theyre saying!!

lee know:

would share u with chan.

okay, hear me out. i know most people would think that he would share you with jisung but i so disagree!! minho is a possessive, jealous, mfer (hot). that being said, he is also basically joined at the hip with jisung and when you come around, its probably quite often the three of you together.

i dont think minho could stand the idea of you being around someone 24/7 that has seen you naked and felt every inch of you. hes sooo jealous.

but!! i think minchan would make for a great time tbh. theyre both so strong and yummy that it could get really rough, fast!! they're both very conscious of your body and how it is reacting to everything and they work in perfect tandem to make sure youre having a good time :p

you definitely cum so many times you can’t walk by the end of it all!

oh! and they both have greatttt stamina so i can just imagine you guys going at it for hours and hours.

most likely to have been made self indulgently, fueled by my own personal desires.

-on my knees for minchan.

changbin:

would share u with hyunjin.

changbin is so obsessed with hyunjin and its the cutest thing in the world. he thinks he can never be more obsessed with anyone but then, he meets you!

the idea of the two people he adores most in the world being intimate with him at the same time??? hot. hot hot hot. i also think that binnie is such a visual person. seeing you and hyunjin together is probably just pure art in his eyes.

i think that it would actually be super intimate. it would definitely not be something that happens often or casually. it probably happened one night on accident and it was a lot more intimate and intense than you all figured it would be.

changbin and hyunjin definitely kiss while they eiffel tower u. im sORRY!

hyunjin:

would share u with felix.

hyunjin loves felix so much. we all know this. i think that it would be very important that you and felix get along for hyunjin to make the relationship work.

honestly, it wouldnt surprise me if hyunjin were to make you two meet before you meet anyone else. he just values lix's opinion so much and its so cute. with that being said, i think that the idea of sharing you would kind of come naturally.

you and felix have GREAT chemistry and i think it would be hyunjin that suggests it. you three are probably sitting around the table or in the living room and he's just listening to you and felix talk and then he just speaks up with something stupid and hyunjin-like, for example: 'do you wanna have a threesome. like us three?' and obviously you and felix are quite surprised but after it being talked about, youre all down.

felix is probably a little softer in bed and i imagine hyunjin being the same way, except if he get particularly worked up. i imagine sex with hyunjin is usually pretty intimate and more like love-making. he is just such a romantic and values intimacy so much.

theres probably a lot of you receiving great head from the two boys and a LOT of kissing. and they have such nice lipshshshsjash

u definitely have a few bruises left as a reminder.

han:

would share u with minho.

okay okay okay so

im sensing the dynamic of minho actually not really participating and youre both kind of submissive BECAUSE voyeur minho>>>>

him telling jisung exactly how he should touch you or what he should say to you and then he gets all frustrated when jisung doesnt do it right and pushes him out the way and is like 'do it like this' and then showing him exactly how its done.

you're definitely being treated like an object more than a person and it's embarrassingly just that much hotter. i feel like jisung would follow every one of minho's commands without much thought. he trusts him whole heartedly even when it comes to you.

when you do actually have sex with both of them, it’s probably super rough. i feel like jisung would feed off minho’s energy and try to match it, yk?

felix:

would share you with changbin.

okay....hear me out! why do i lowk feel like you could dom changbin and felix so well.... and theyre so muscly and like masculine but you can get them both on their knees for you????? HOT

anyways, felix trust changbin a lot and he has said that changbin is his ideal type in men so... youre his ideal type, changbin is his ideal type, felix is in heaven.

a lot of praise from you has them both flustered and blushing and like putty in the palm of your hand. they could definitely dom you too tho!!! dont get me wrong.

manhandled, thrown up against a wall, rough, marked up, the works. they would probably hold you up at an insane angle so they can both fuck into you at the same time. some crazy karma sutra shit. i think they would be the first ones out of all these duos that would be found out. the way that changbin just suddenly gets a lot closer and touchier with you and the way the three of you would interact, it would be suspicious

most likely to end up in a poly relationship, methinks!

seungmin:

would share u with i.n.

THATS HIS BRO FR.

"seungmin, how do i make a girl cum with my fingers?"

"i can show u better than i can tell u"

and thats how you end up sprawled out on the bed getting edged over and over and over until you can barely feel your body!

"no angle your hand like this, there you go! you feel how this pretty pussy just clenched around you? thats good"

"you could probably make her squirt, she does all the time"

seungmin's words would be filthy. actually talking like youre just a sex doll that they can use for their own pleasure. i.n would probably often return and ask you and seungmin different questions and then youre all in the bedroom

he just happens to be more of a visual learner is all!

least likely to become poly, methinks! im under the impression that out of everyone, seungmin and jeongin would be the two that are most likely to keep things platonic. i think these would also be the most likely two members that have a friend with benefits and genuinely never catches feelings, yk?

okay and maybe it's just my own personal hand kink.... but they both have such fucking pretty hands like oh my goshdmsmshx put them down my throat pls!

i.n:

would share u with jisung.

tbh i think jeongin would be the most likely to share you with multiple members (maybe at the same time but uh anyways) but him and jisung just work.

jeongin is genuinely sooooo fond of jisung and you can just tell. he takes good care of jisung, even though he's younger and i think he trusts him a lot.

however, i think there could be a crazy dynamic here...

dom i.n x sub hannie x sub you?????

why is that kind of hot... and you all know im a big advocate for dom!han but i imagine him being a softer dom, at least a lot softer than jeongin. i.n and minho seem like they would be very similar in their dom ways.

i just cant imagine jeongin being a sub!!! like he IS an aquarius…lets not forget.

him and han’s dynamic is very silly and you can tell that they love each other dearly and feel very safe with one another. like they’re very much themselves around one another. i think thats why han would be able to sub to jeongin. and the irony of him being younger and he’s bossing him around… he would dig. jisung a freak!

han is a certified pussy addict. he eats coochie off the bone!! im imagining you sat back against i.n’s chest and jisung is between your legs just devouring and jeongin has his fingers practically gagging you omg i gtg N O

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greenandsorrow · 30 days

Text

~Her man child~

Headcanons 📺

Vox is the definition of a manchild and I think it's kinda obvious.

He's the mean kind, acting with so much spite, sometimes without it being necessary or justified.

He NEEDS to be taken seriously. He tries so hard, blurring the lines between respect, fear and tolerance.

But when you two are alone... the telly-head man is a whiny boy.

He complains like it's a form of art. You can't help but roll your eyes playfully when he lets out a too loud sigh, but after doing so you're always ready to give him all the reassurance and attention he desperately craves.

Your man prefers being the little spoon. He's like a lap cat.

If anyone finds out about his cuddly nature, he's gonna die a second time...

Vox feels the need to constantly prove himself to Velvette and Valentino, but with you he feels safe. He can be overly emotional. And weak. And needy.

Very needy.

If you're not somewhere behind the camera admiring him and boosting his confidence, his day is ruined.

Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy.

In the mornings he doesn't even turn on his screen... settling for the protection setting instead.

You have to be patient with him.

Bring him a steaming cup of coffee and hug him from behind and he might as well start giggling like a schoolgirl.

He's too sensitive for harsh jokes. Being in Hell means ONLY dark and cruel humour, but Vox can't take it sometimes.

His ego is fragile.

In order to feel loved, Vox has to be showered in extravagant compliments on a daily basis. Whether it's about his appearance, his job, his amazing and very interesting personality... He needs them.

When you tell him he's better than the radio demon.... he literally gets rock hard.

Vox is in a constant dilemma between showing you off for all Pentagram City to know you're his, or keeping you secret.

It's the same as a boy with his favourite toy. If other kids see his toy, he's gonna have to share.

What if someone steals his favourite toy?! Or even worse... BREAK IT?!

That being said, he doesn't objectify you, but he's terrible at showing affection or appreciation.

He's gonna be there for you, help you with anything you need, laugh with you, spend quality time with you. Still, deep communication is a difficult subject for him.

Thank god you're observant enough to catch all the messages he tries to pass to you.

Such an attention seeker though.

Have you ever seen a six year old trying to impress his crush?

Just look at Vox trying to woo you. It's the same thing.

But he's not that bad... His self-esteem is an obstacle alright, but he becomes a rug for you to step on and use as you wish most of the time.

Vox would definitely go out of his way if you asked something from him. You're his rock. It's the least he can do.

The guy even whimpers in his sleep.

Vox loves to fill his hands with your thighs when it's bed time. They're warm and soothing to him, like stress toys. Being a walking television has its disadvantages temperature wise.

He would bend you over and take you in front of a mirror so he could see himself while at it, but he hasn't done so yet. He wants to ask you beforehand and make sure it won't make you feel weird.

Vox is easy to rile up. A breathy compliment and a squeeze of his thigh and he's more than ready to go.

He doesn't actually feel dominant, but he tries to act like it. This Vee member has the stereotype man = dominance engraved in his subconsciousness and so he fights to live up to it.

But between you and me... Treat him like an inexperienced and innocent boy and he'll be crying out in pleasure.

Aka... be a femdom. Even a soft one. You won't even have to try that much.

Another thing. Vox is loud. (Like his name implies 🫣)

He also pants a lot. Almost like he's hyperventilating.

Unlike Alastor, this man is very insecure about both his performance and... size.

I'm not saying he's lacking in either though. It's just how his mind works. Always comparing himself to his opponents and in this case, his opponents are other men that could perhaps satisfy you more thoroughly than him.

Allow me to say that he fucks in an anxious way. Hands shaking and his mantra "Does that feel good to you darling?"

You just need to praise him a little. (A lot)

He doesn't last that long but he'll be sure to rub your clit so you don't either.

When it gets too real, he tears up at the end, like a baby that's holding back from crying. But you're there to hold him until he calms down.

He's usually too tired (and still nervous) afterwards for proper aftercare. Vox likes to be babied though. It's more personal attention after all.

Oh to be cleaned up and tucked to bed! Only then will he feel comfortable enough to run his fingers through your hair and mumble a faint thank you.

Vox's head has a bit of an awkward shape for cunnilingus. However, he has a surprisingly long tongue that can reach more than enough to have you moaning out how good of a boy he's being.

He usually cums in his pants while eating you out.

And when you return the favour it's usually to relieve his stress at work. He feels like a teenager when you do it. It's an act of service, really.

He low-key fucks your face, not enough to choke you but you do gag around him. It makes him feel in control. It makes him feel like a man.

To sum up, Vox is a bit dependent on you and on your validation, but he would never hurt you or become too overbearing.

He's needy, but not stupid.

He is the definition of a manchild and I think I proved my point.

But he's your manchild sis!

Support a struggling university student! Thank you so so much🫶 CLICK HERE (PayPal link)

~~~

my masterlist || Hazbin Hotel masterlist 🦷

Vox divider by @rubra-wav

Support divider by @cafekitsune

The explicit content one... I don't remember :(

~~~

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mirnilop · 9 months

Text

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

#🐇 penned #🌈🖼️ wh #feat. some random ocs i made up for the sake of the fic #welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #x reader #reader-insert #yandere x reader #i love randomly throwing in ronald dorelaine #cause we have no idea who he is or what he's like #so he can be whatever i need him to be #yandere wally darling #yandere wally darling x reader #welcome home mob au #clownsuu

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hypnoneghoul · 3 months

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So in relation to the SWUMMY pic you posted…. Could we have Phantom being a needy little baby and Swiss making him rub himself off against his tummy because Phantoms desperate and Swiss thinks it’s adorable how needy he is….pretty please 🙏🏻

(Also, I live for your writing…and now your art. It’s so beautiful. Thank you for tempting us with it)

- 🪽

this ask hit so hard it took me out of commision for days. I died and came back to life a few times and here I am. I hope I didn't disappoint

740 words, tummy humping (duh), slight degradation

“Awww,” Swiss cooed from his bed. “What happened, baby?”

Disheveled Phantom had just burst through his door, panting. Swiss’ question was rhetorical, everyone with a nose and pair of eyes would know exactly what happened. A heat happened.

He smelled of sex, he was sweaty all over, his pants were tented and adorned with a pretty, not-so-small wet patch at the very front.

“Please,” the quintessence ghoul breathed out, looking at Swiss with his big and glassy puppy eyes with blown pupils.

“Of course, bug,” he smiled. “Come here.”

Phantom all but threw himself onto the bed with a pleading whine, pawing at Swiss all over with near primal need pouring off of him. The multi ghoul let the other explore for a moment. He let him nuzzle into his neck as he absentmindedly humped his leg. He let him take off his shirt and scrape his teeth against his chest. He let him drool onto his stomach, eyes lit up.

Surprisingly—or maybe not at all—Phantom paused there, not moving downwards in pursuit of what his heat really wanted to get. Swiss chuckled as the quintessence ghoul shoved his face into his belly and inhaled greedily, claws digging into the softness of his hips to hold him where he wanted.

“Cute bug,” Swiss mumbled, putting a big hand on Phantom’s head. He really was cute. “The most adorable little slut.”

“Swissy…” he whined into his skin with tears in his eyes. The multi ghoul wondered what was wetter, his eyes or cock. He tangled his fingers into the sweaty black and white strands on Phantom’s head, scratching at his scalp in a way he knew made the young ghoul melt right away. He moaned prettily, eyes fluttering, and pushed into Swiss’ touch.

“That’s my ghoul.” And for a moment it was good. Phantom humped Swiss’ leg with his face shoved into his belly, whimpering and purring at the same time as the multi ghoul pet him. Heat was brutal, though. It wouldn’t let him stay just like that. Shame.

“S– Swiss, please, not– not here.”

“Then where, baby?” he asked as if the where wasn’t poking him in the shin and making his pant leg sticky.

“I need– it– it hurts,” Phantom cried and finally looked up again. There weren't many things that made Swiss weak, that made him break, but fortunately for the young quintessence ghoul, his eyes were one of those things.

“I know, bug, I know,” he sighed and pulled him up. “Come gimme a kiss.”

Phantom scrambled to obey, sprawling himself over Swiss as he clumsily pressed their lips together. They both moaned into the kiss, licking into each other’s mouths sloppily. They would stay like that—possibly forever—if only not Phantom’s problem. It seemed to be finding a solution on its own, though, and Swiss grinned as he got an idea.

“Like my tummy so much, bug?” he purred into the other’s ear, getting a pretty little noise in return. “Go on, then, baby, rub yourself off against it.”

The multi ghoul smirked, grabbing his pants to help him free his aching cock. Once he did, Phantom pressed himself into his stomach, slicking it up with the copious amounts of pre he was leaking.

The next thing that left Phantom’s mouth along with spit was one of the most wrecked sounds Swiss has ever heard.

“Good,” Swiss praised. The quintessence ghoul’s moans and whimpers were truly a music to his ears. He got so focused on them he barely noticed getting hard himself. It’d be taken care of soon enough.

First, though, Phantom humping his tummy. So pretty, so cute, so desperate.

He was too out of his mind to utter anything more than incoherent babbling and grunts, snapping his hips in short, rabbit-quick thrusts, pre leaking down Swiss’ sides. It took no time at all for the quintessence ghoul’s noises to get louder, to increase in pitch. So worked up since before he even came to the other. “Go on, bug. Just once, come for me like that once and I’ll take care of you. I’ll fuck you stupid, yeah?”

“Y– yeah, please.”

“Then cum for me,” Swiss said and Phantom obliged. He shuddered and whimpered his way through it, clinging to the multi ghoul like a lifeline. He held him tightly, Phantom’s mess getting squished between them. It would get so much more messy soon, but for now...

“Good boy. Now lick it off.”

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul

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actual-changeling · 6 months

Text

Uh. Hi! I'm Alex and I love writing pain.

I've seen the angst war going on and I am incredibly tempted to contribute; I'm not quite sure of the rules (if there are any) so feel free to bring me up to speed. Updates will be at whatever pace is fun/doable for me, interactions, asks etc. always very much appreciated 💚

@goodomensafterdark @daneecastle @gleafer @gahellhimself-blog @vavoom-sorted-art @kotias

I will put appropriate content tags on every chapter and make a masterpost once I have a handful of posts. Please keep in mind that this series is going to deal with a heavy dose of unreality, self-injurious behaviour, substance abuse, erratic behaviour/mood swings, and more. There will be a happy ending.

Now, without further ado, the first instalment of what is going to be us following Crowley down the path of (hopefully temporary) insanity.

rest your head \\ chapter 1

(~800 w, no additional warnings)

Sleep deprivation, while usually not fatal, is not the least bit pleasant. Human brains require sleep to function—and not just their minds, either. The entire body breaks down oh so slowly as every system designed to keep it alive deteriorates without the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

However, the actual cause of death is yet to be identified, and luckily Crowley's corporation functions on the principle of 'what it doesn't know won't kill it'.

Over the centuries, earthly indulgences have become more and more common, pleasures easily sought and found no matter where he went, although nothing ever beat a good night's (or decade's) rest. Sleep calms his mind and allows him to drift through time without a care, surrounded by ever-shifting dream clouds and the occasional vivid interference. In short, it takes away the pain, and Someone knows there is a lot to carry when he returns home for the first time in four years.

No dust had dared to settle on the furniture, and the familiar smell of damp earth welcomes him. Locking the door behind him, Crowley blindly finds his way through the corridors, kicking off his shoes as he goes and throwing his glasses onto the nearest surface. When he pushes into his bedroom, which is just as pristine as he had left it, the anger churning in his gut cools.

Home. Has he ever had a home? Once upon a time, maybe, before time had been born, surrounded by breathing nebulae and void, and then—

Eden. Him. Right, that's done.

A snap of his fingers and his clothes change into a set of silk pyjamas, the fabric brushing over his skin like liquid silver, and the black-out curtains snap shut. Darkvision is one of the advantages of being a demon, but he finds the dark has nothing to offer him today, so he closes his eyes and pulls back the sheets to curl around a pillow.

Images flicker in the pulsating emptiness left behind, piercing blue eyes and fluttering hands, a press of lips against his, words digging into his skull like tadpoles making a home within his brain matter. Electricity crawls over his slowly numbing body, urging him to disappear, to sink into nothingness and waste away until he is a dried stain on the mattress.

No one will come looking for him, after all.

Maybe the world will be brighter once he wakes, the pain duller, the loneliness less aching and all-consuming. Within his chest bleeds a hollow, jagged wound, dripping black blood and drowning the radiant remnants of Aziraphale's presence; his essence is familiar, it's- home.

Crowley does not need to sleep, yet somewhere between Rome and the present, he had forgotten about it, his corporation shifting and changing, craving rest and punishing him for its absence. It will not kill him, it does not even occur to him that it might, but there are countless fates worth than death and he is already living one of them. What's another added to the mess his life has become?

His nails dig into the pillow case, his consciousness choking on the scorched battlefield of the day, but no matter how hard he tries, how desperately he commands his body to bend to his wills, sleep refuses to come. A new, different kind of pain rises, worse than fatigue and infinitely more addictive. Its sting is battery acid on his tongue, infusing him with a restlessness that is scratching on his bones, and when blue irises keep mocking him behind closed lids, he forces his eyes open, turns onto his back, and stares at the ceiling, waiting.

Light wanders and shifts, barely visible through the heavy fabric adorning his windows, and it dips behind the horizon before reappearing on the other side. Crowley stares at white paint and counts the moving dots gradually clouding his vision, absently pressing his knuckles against his sternum over and over—whether to calm himself or to chase away mental pain with physical is beyond his awareness.

Both, neither, maybe.

His too-human body protests and whines, and once he begins to see blue shadows in his periphery, Crowley bites his tongue and gets up. Coffee will help, then a hot shower, and yelling his plants back into order is going to occupy most of his afternoon anyway, so what's a night without sleep?

The next one will bring him the rest he needs, and Aziraphale's eyes will stop striking him down whenever he blinks. He is alone now (alone in London, alone on earth, his chest constricts and twists at the thought, stealing his breath) and he will have to get used to it; it'll be fine eventually, right?

—

Three days later Crowley is staring at his bedroom ceiling, impatient, restless, exhausted, and attempting to chase away the bone-white teeth hovering underneath lightning-blue eyes.

"Fine, have it your way," he snaps eventually, his voice too loud in an empty room, and feels the smile breathing down his neck all the way to the kitchen.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable angst war #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #im sure there is at least one person who saw this coming #if you thought i was giving you pain before we are about to enter an entirely new abyss

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 7 months

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Hi Whimsy🖤

I'm new here and this is my first ask so I'm sorry if I haven't done this right. If you're comfortable with it and are able to can I get a Prince Nuada x chubby f!reader enemies to lovers anything (with nsfw if you're fine with that).

You have full reign over the direction and themes of this, anything is appreciated!

Thank you for your time🌻

Hello! Now this is something that actually deserves a full multi-part fic, so I thought of coming up with a detailed outline for the moment. I hope you like it!

“A prince’s regard”

Pairing: Prince Nuada x chubby F! reader (Human | Second person POV)

Themes: Enemies to lovers | Soft | NSFW

Wordcount: 2.2k words

Summary: As part of a greater plan to encourage peace and understanding between humans and elves, a lottery is held for elves and humans to live amongst each other. You’re one of them, and the elf you are paired off with during the lotter is none other than Nuada himself.

A/n: If anyone wants to make use of these I say go for it, but please tag me if you do.

Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume

🍃As part of a peace treaty with mortals, King Balor proposed an exchange of culture and knowledge between the two former warring races. Selected humans would live amongst the elves as attendants, handmaidens, stewards, and students, and elves would do the same with humans.

🍃A lottery is organized and monitored by the BPRD to stop parties with vested interests from meddling and upsetting the delicate balance of such a hard-won peace. Offices spread all over the world turn into lottery centers, and any elf or mortal wishing to add their name to the list is encouraged to do so.

🍃The numbers may not have been record-breaking, but enough elves and humans registered all the same. Your name was one of them. You did it on a dare, and with your friends, thinking nothing would ever come out of it.

🍃When the announcements start, you join the others in front of the TV, listening to names being called out, along with the names of families and individuals they would be paired with. Your name was not called on the first day. It was not called on the second or third day either. It was disappointing, to be sure, but you made peace with it. The days passed, with more and more names being announced. Then, after a fortnight had passed, you listened, dumbfounded, while your own name was announced to the world in crisp words. You were even more astounded when you found that you were being paired off with none other than the crown prince of Bethmoora himself.

🍃Your friends take you shopping as you would be moving into a series of abandoned railway tunnels he had converted into a luxurious palace. No one has seen the inside of it except for his father and sister, and the handful of attendants that served him.

🍃You’re nervous. Not just because you would be living with elven royalty, but also because Nuada is well known for hating humans.

🍃The prince was cold and aloof when you walked in through thick wooden doors full of strange symbols carved into them. “For protection,” Princess Nuala said, “against any evil that tries to make its way inside.”

🍃She was exceedingly warm where her twin is not, asking dozens of questions about your life, your friends, your family, everything. Nuala helped you settle into your new rooms and then showed you around the vast network of tunnels and chambers her brother called home. Everything was dimly lit, because that was how he liked it. There were sculptures and priceless works of art everywhere, hundreds upon hundreds of candles, thick, plush carpets, and the library was unlike anything you had ever seen.

“Do not touch anything.” He hissed, startling you. Nuada had walked up to you without making a sound. It was more than a little unnerving that he could do such a thing. “These treasures are priceless, and I will not see them sullied by mortal hands such as yours.”

Nuala apologized profusely. “Some of the sculptures you see here belonged to our mother,” she went on to explain after he disappeared down another corridor. “And my brother is quite attached to them.”

She did not say more on the matter, and she took you to her own rooms and hosted you to a light supper. At least, that was what she called it. An elaborate meal had been laid out in the dining room of her apartment. During dinner, Nuala informed she had to return to the BPRD, as her true home was there, with Abe. She would visit from time to time, but her place was elsewhere. Your heart sank, for it meant you would have to be alone with Nuada.

“Do not fret,” she urged. “My brother has a good heart; it is just that he guards it so fiercely. Give him time, y/n. He will come around. Mr. Wink will be here as well, so you will not want for company.”

“That’s comforting,” you tell yourself. Mr. Wink was large and imposing and spoke in a language you did not understand, and his loyalty would always belong to Nuada. Still, you made peace with Nuala’s leaving, and enjoyed the rest of your dinner.

🍃During the course of the subsequent days and weeks, Nuada would go out of his way to avoid you. He dined by himself, trained by himself, and kept to his own chambers when he was not needed elsewhere. If, by chance, you did run into him, he would respond with a curt grunt before walking away. If you came upon him training, he would order you to leave him in peace. Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, he would walk out of a room if you walked into it. It stung. What made it worse was knowing your stay had to last a full year before a change in placement could be requested. And that made you wretched, because the end of that year was still a long way off. Resentment took root, and you slowly began to loathe the prince for making living with him so hard.

🍃Mr. Wink, on the other hand, was surprisingly nicer, allowing you to join him while he used the mechanical toys that kept him entertained, watching TV with you, and even letting you read to him once in a while. He went so far as to ask through Nuala for you to help him learn your language.

It was a trial. Truly, it was a trial. Mr. Wink was a creature of fixed habits, and modern languages were strange to his ears. Once, he nearly flipped over a table in frustration. You had to keep to your sofa and hide your giggles while he ranted and raved and declared, through Nuala during her next visit, that human languages were languages born from the pits of hell.

“They may be languages from the pits of hell,” you tell him, “but you still need to learn. Come on. You can do this.”

The lessons continued. And Nuada’s avoidance of you continued as well.

🍃“Why do you always avoid me?” You finally mustered your courage and confronted him after breakfast. “I know you are not all that happy about it, but do you have to go out of your way to make me feel unwelcome?”

“Because you are mortal,” he rasped sharply. “That alone is enough. Now leave me. I have better things to do with my time.”

🍃And so it continued, until one dark November night, when an injured Mr. Wink brought him home, covered in wounds. A raid had gone wrong, you were told. Hellboy had taken it into his head to charge straight into a hive of tooth fairies, the largest that had been found in North America. Many in the team were injured, and Nuada was one of those who were worse off. Doctors from the Bureau came over and did the best they could. You had to see to his care after they left, as Nuala could not leave the BPRD. She too had suffered the same harm, even though she never left the facility.

For several days, Nuada slipped in and out of consciousness. You wanted to let him struggle out of spite, but seeing him helpless and weak convinced you to do otherwise. You changed his dressing, gave him bed baths to clean him up, and even changed his clothes. You avoided looking at the scars that marred an otherwise near-perfect body. It would be rude to do so, you tell yourself. He would not like being gawked at.

You brushed his hair and then read to him before making yourself comfortable on a nearby pillowed bench that served as your bed. Sometimes, you would find him looking at you with a strange expression in his eyes while you went about looking after him. You didn’t know what to make of it.

🍃“You must eat something, my prince,” you insisted one evening, holding a spoonful of soup to his mouth. “Just a spoonful. Please.”

Nuada’s appetite had deserted him, and you had to feed him his meals. He fussed and grumbled and muttered choice words in the language of his people, but he would yield to your entreaties in the end and make himself eat. It started with a spoonful, and then another, and another. Finally, when he was strong enough, he could eat properly.

🍃Then he started to talk. It’s about the little things at first: the meal before him, his sister’s wellbeing, and your lessons with Mr. Wink.

“He speaks very highly of you,” he confessed, much to your surprise. “He says you treat him with respect.”

“Do other elves treat him with respect?”

“No,” he replied. "Trolls are seen as, how do you mortals put it?" Nuada searched for the right word. "Oh yes. As the knuckledraggers of my world. Mr. Wink is a remnant of a more primitive age and, therefore, unworthy of true respect in the eyes of many. Besides my sister and myself, you are the only one who is openly kind to him."

"You are kind to him, and yet you treat me with scorn," you sighed.

The prince said nothing. He grew quiet and thoughtful. You take it as a sign to clear his tray and leave.

🍃Life with him became easier after that. While he rested, Nuada spoke of all the things he had seen and all the wondrous creatures he had met. You listened to his tales with rapt attention, for few mortals knew of such things. Finally, he opened up about his hatred for humans and why he allowed it to fester in his heart for so long.

“They killed my mother,” he spat. “When father left for war, mother traveled with him. She would stay at camp while he took off for the battlefield. He thought he had no cause for worry, for it was an unwritten rule, you see, for a military camp to be left untouched even during the height of fighting. There could be women and children present. Humans did not care for that. As soon as father’s warriors were out of sight, they attacked the camp. My mother… let us just say she did not survive.”

You did not know what to say, except for "I'm sorry.” Nuada smiled sadly and patted your hand.

“Tis not your fault,” he countered. “And it is I who should be apologizing." Nuada paused, and hesitated. "You have been nothing but considerate of my wishes the entire time, and you went out of your way to take care of me even after how I behaved in the beginning. I am ashamed of myself and must beg for your forgiveness.”

🍃Forgiveness would take a while, but Nuada did all that he could to make amends. He even invited you to accompany him to a great feast as his honored guest. That gave you pause, for while Nuada was lithe and graceful and everything a mighty warrior ought to be, you thought yourself to be the opposite of it all and told him so.

“Everyone would compare me to the other ladies,” you agonized after changing into yet another gown, one that was so soft it felt like you were clothed in nothing but air. “I cannot go looking like this.”

“No one will compare you to others,” he insisted. Nuada came into your rooms after wondering what was taking you so long. “They would not dare do so. Besides, there is nothing to give you cause for concern. Like your hair, for example. It looks beautiful the way you have arranged it.”

A flash of heat crept up your throat. No one had complimented you like this before. “It is?”

“Indeed.” Nuada came closer. “And that dress. How artfully it clings to your body. You have made a wise choice with your garments, y/n.”

“Oh.” Now your cheeks were aflame. “You’re not lying? You really like how I look?

“As my sister would tell you, lying is not something I excel at.” He grew bolder, and brushed his hand over your hip, your waist. “Soft,” he murmured. “Even softer than your dress.”

His touch was electrifying. And he was right. Lying was not something he was skilled at. You saw it with your own eyes—how he could not even pretend to be gracious in the beginning. You flushed and looked away, unsure of what to do or say. Nuada reached over and lifted your chin, making you meet his gaze.

“Did I go too far?” He murmured softly.

“No,” you mumbled. “I… I just didn’t expect such attention from someone like you. You are the crown prince. You’re dashing and skilled, and you're the greatest warrior among your people. And I… I am me.”

He went quiet for a while, as if he were thinking. “Then give me the chance to show you how you are so much more than what you believe yourself to be,” he proposed. “Can you do that, y/n? Give me such a chance?”

He was holding out his hand, his eyes bright and determined. But there was something else in those vivid golden-yellow eyes of his. Something more than determination. It tugged at you and drew you in.

He is trying, you think to yourself. He is really trying. And would it be awful to be at the receiving end of his affections?

You decided it would not be so awful after all and placed your hand in his.

tags: @nupppuff @thepjofanqueen

#prince nuada #prince nuada imagine #prince nuada x reader #nuada x reader #nuada imagine #nuada silverlance #hellboy #hellboy imagine #x reader #reader insert #reader insert request

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

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Poor reader definitely kisses the worshipper god on the cheek after. The next day their cockroach filled apartment is a mansion with all owning rights belonging to reader. Do not think about what happend to the landlord.

"Thank you for meeting with me.."

You sit at a booth at your old job; hooded figure across the table. You were taking a little time off from working thanks to their gift. You were able to fix up things in your shitty apartment and do some nice things for yourself. There was still a lot left over all that, but you just weren't ready to do any major changes just yet.

The deity slightly nods their head. "It is I who should be thanking you."

Though they've shown themselves to you before, it's still overwhelming for them to be near you. You look alot happier than the last time they saw you, and it makes them feel warm inside. Despite your happiness being theirs, you feel bad for giving them nothing in return.

"Are you sure there's nothing you want from me?"

"Yes, your well-being is all I care about. To hear that you appreciate what I've done is thanks enough... But if you'd really like to thank me-." Their voice trails off as they think; quickly snapping away from wondering thoughts. No, I'm not worthy anything more. Maybe a word of praise if you're willing? Or..."

You get up from your seat. They make it sound like such a small thing. If they really worship you as much as they seem to, what you do next should be enough to let you sleep at night. You pull back the hood of their jacket and kiss their cheek. It's super warm and has a strange fuzzy feeling like touching the screen of a tv.

"Ah-" The deity breaks out in a full body blush - literally. A darkening of their cheeks that spreads all over in a mix of pink and dark blues. Their human form slips; the left half of their face cast in a vibrant light as the skin unravels. They quickly cover it with their hands; forcing their inner self back in. Its sp hard to focus. Your lips on them - kissing them. They're so soft. They imagine this is what heaven would feel like to those who believe in it. Your eyes had been shut in the brief moment this all occurred.

"Will that do?"

The deity looks at you with a shaky grin. "Aha, yes, that works nicely. Too nice, if I'm allowed to give my thoughts. Please excuse me."

The God stands and leaves the diner, leaving money behind for the bill. You see them hurry across the street still holding their face - almost tripping over a garbage can in the process. You finish up your meal and decide its fine to turn in for the day.

Pulling into your street; your jaw falls flat on the steering well. Your crappy apartment and the buildings around it had been merged into a full acre mansion. You check the street number, but it's the same you've lived at for years. A key fob you don't remember having opens the locked gates and you head inside.

There no doubt in your mind that this was somehow your place of residence as you unlock the door with your old key. All of your old belongings are placed nearly around the general area plus some fine furniture and art pieces to round out the space. You find a note on a table.

"Dearest Grace,

I apologize for the abrupt change in your residency. It appears I am not as in control of my powers as I thought and they acted on my desire to please you. Do not worry about your old neighbors. Their lives have been rewritten elsewhere I imagine and they are well. I hope that it's to your liking.

Forever yours, ☆"

You set the note back on the table. The course of events suddenly had you feeling drained. You lay out on the couch, falling asleep on the most comfortable couch pillow you've ever felt.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere god #yandere x y/n #yandere drabble #yandere writing #yandere fic #oc x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere teratophilia #Yandere entity

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melonsharks · 9 months

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Tell us everything about the parent trap au immediately please please please

to give u an insanely quick rundown with a wip art i have:

aziraphale as elizabeth. wedding dress designer under his pen name A.Z. Fell. (hes an artist as confirmed in s2 and the whole "drawing on napkins" thing elizabeth would do appeals to me immensely)

crowley as nick. owns a vineyard. I NEED HIM TO OWN A VINEYARD SO BAD. shoutout to Old Vines on ao3 for changing me in a fundamental way. he makes wines and he tends to the vines and he is so passionate about it to an abusurdist degree. he yells at his vines when they arent growing right. you already knowwww.

when they meet for the first time, they don’t meet on a boat like in the movie, they actually meet at a wedding party :J crowley was a wine collector, just starting out. he loved offering aziraphale samplings of his most vintage collection out of impulse. (he likes seeing the way aziraphale savors them) (he’s besotted) Wants to own his own vineyard one day. aziraphale, on the other hand, has dreams of becoming a fashion designer of sorts, always drawing ideas on any scraps of paper he can find. his designs are very old fashioned, but thats like… part of the appeal. his work very much reflects who he is, and the people who flock to it understand that.

they enter this kind of… whirlwind relationship, they get married, and then eventually adopt two golden haired blue eyed baby boys. twins. :J warlock and adam.

they break things off because aziraphale leaves... alluding to their recent breakup in season two, the reason he left was because "we both clearly had very different ideas on where our lives were going. so. i packed up and left." (parallel s2 divorce 😋 they don’t know how to talk to each other) (aziraphale throws a book at his head after this argument, like the hairdryer in the movie LOL. it was pride and prejudice. crowley still has it.)

aziraphale leaves with adam. warlock is left with crowley. crowley eventually leaves London because he finds he cant stand being anywhere near Aziraphale (hes just irresistible in that way), and he goes to California where he finally fulfills his dream of owning a vineyard. a nice one on Napa, Northern California.

Aziraphale’s wedding dresses become more and more well known, Adam grows well-adjusted. Same kid you know from the show and book, natural born leader, a good head on his shoulders. (Aziraphale has no idea why Adam is like that, but he is so proud)

Crowley’s vineyard (The Garden Of Eden) grows and grows… Warlock is spoiled rotten, but he does love actually working at the vineyard with Crowley to and he and Crowley have a really good relationship…

Eventually the kids go to a summer camp together in London (i dont know if they . do this in the UK, but suspend your disbelief if you will) Adam meets The Them there, then meets Warlock after a nutty fencing thing, they kind of hate each other at first and the rest is history :J

side characters UM. LOL. idk……. i mean i kind of know but not really? theres just so many possibilities that make the rounds in my head. chessy could be anathema OR nina (ive had people suggest eric too?) and martin could be newt OR maggie (ive also had people suggest muriel????) gestures vaguely.

as for meredith…….erm…………🤷‍♂️ ive had everything under the sun suggested to me and i still……have no idea. LOL. gabriel, lucifer, shaX, FURFUR, THE WIFE FROM THE NON-SPOILER SPOILERS. I DONT KNOW. IT ALL FEELS WRONG. its hard to come up with this role in particular when these gay bitches literally only have eyes for each other. always. forever. u know. i think lucy is like. the classic answer. but idfk.

ask me about . more things if u want. this is consuming my every thought.

anyways the cover im working on for. for something:

#good omens #good omens 2 #gomens #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #adam young #warlock dowling #parent trap au #asks #paradox-progressing #i said insanwly quick but this is so fucking long. im sorry

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littledigits · 6 months

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Hi! I absolutely love your work and your art style (and I think Hilda is one of the best animated shows ever made!!) I want to dip my toe into drawing, mainly because I want to be able to do little sketchy character drawings for my D&D campaign lol. Is there any particular book or course you might recommend for getting started? Thank you!

thank you so much ! <3

I would say if you want to start drawing , do whatever makes it accessible and fun for you to start. I cant go hardcore into learning, i need some indulgence to keep it fun.

Its hard for me to recommend anything off the top of my head. there is SO MUCH GOOD STUFF OUT THERE NOW ADAYS. also you may look at a book or a course and the way its explained wont make sense to you, but someone else could put it a different way and it could click better! Everyone has a different workflow and different methods, so what i'd recommend is just poke around in some youtube videos and just watch a few beginner ones, see what methods you vibe with. But at the end of the day do what you feel like is most fun and dont sweat the details

DONT BE AFRAID TO REFRENCE THINGS! When I was in school for animation, one of the first things you did to learn to draw on model was draw overtop of the model sheet and break down the proportions. (how many 'heads' tall is it , how many 'eyes' wide is the face). If you see a style you like, learn from it !

Drawing overtop of a character and breaking it down is a great exercise if there is a style you want to mimic. Understanding the proportions helps because then when you draw, if it looks -off- you can test out your own . Who knows, maybe you accidentally made the body too long or short! People are afraid to trace or draw over, but its a great exercise as long as you dont take credit, especially if you're not just doing it for something to look pretty but you want to *understand* how it was done. This helps a lot in building your own style ! my style is a mish mash of everything i've loved and worked on over the years, and it changes over time. So if you see something and you're like 'ooo thats COOL how did they do it' , save it , break it down , maybe you'll learn a few new things !

also I recommend to start with simple shapes ! I put some screen captures from rough sketches that Scott Lewis did, who is a senior animator on hilda. Even as an experienced animator he knows how important the fundamentals are (which is why hes good at his job haha). I think if you want to do fun sketchy things for DND , keeping it simple is the way to go :) you'd be surprised how much expression you can get out of shapes ! I hope this helps you get started on drawing all the endless DND shenanigans that I'm sure live in your head :D .

#thepaisleyelf #starting to get into art for dnd drawing is best reason #as someone who loves shitposting dnd doodles it is pure bliss

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ao3commentoftheday · 2 years

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i find myself lately frustrated with my writing; it feels like nothing i am producing is right....im not liking any of it, and its frustrating and sad because i used to really like it but dont know where stuff went wrong. im trying to take a break but its hard because trying to fill the times where im usually writing with something else makes me feel empty :/

I'm sorry you're going through all of this, anon. This feels like a lot to deal with.

In a situation like this, it can be helpful to look at each piece of the puzzle and see which one you're able to deal with right now and which ones you'll need to come back to later when you're up to it.

You're frustrated because it feels like nothing you're creating is right. The key here is figuring out what's wrong with it. Is it a story that you're not interested in anymore? Is there a plot point that you wrote out that you don't like anymore but it feels like a lot of work to go back and revise the story to take it out? Are characters feeling "off" in some way? Does it feel like it's missing something and you can't figure out what? Depending on your answers, the way to resolve this might be putting the story aside. But it might also be abandoning the story altogether or gutting it fairly significantly in order to keep the parts that you do like in order to get rid of the stuff that you don't.

You used to like it and you don't know where it went wrong. It might be that plot point issue I mentioned above, or it could be another factor. How are you feeling about the fandom in general? About your life external to fandom? Unhappiness in other areas of our lives can cause frustration in the places where we used to find happiness. Are you feeling sadness, frustration, and discontent about other things you used to enjoy? Do you have stresses in your life that might be affecting you? This one might require you to talk to someone about what's going on.

You're trying to take a break but it's hard. Fandom is a wonderful community full of joy and giving. But it's also a community where we can sometimes pressure ourselves too much. Sometimes taking a break can feel like you'll lose your audience - like they'll forget you when you're gone. Sometimes taking a break can make you feel guilty because all you can think about are the people who are waiting on the next story or the next chapter. When you're tired and frustrated and sad, you need to stop thinking about others and start focusing on yourself. There's no shame in needing a rest. Everyone does sometimes. And as for losing your audience, a lot of them will still be there when you return and the ones who left might be replaced by new people who will just be discovering your art.

You feel empty when you're not writing, so you can't think of another way to fill your time. What parts of writing fill you up? What about it gives you energy or inspiration or happiness? Is it the moments where you're imagining? The moments when you're crafting sentences? Is it the moments when you're talking to a friend about the next plot point or cackling over how people will react to your cliffhanger? Is it seeing kudos and comments come into your inbox? Seeing your fic get talked about on tumblr? Depending on what parts of writing satisfy a need inside of you, the way you fill that time will differ. If you need the creative outlet, doing something else creative like painting or baking or gardening etc. might help. If it's the parts surrounding friendships, then spending time doing things with people you care about might help. If it's about the attention you get from your fellow fans, look into some kind of performance outlet - either in person or via social media. Figure out what you need first and it'll be that much easier to get it.

You might only have to look at one of these items. You might need to consider them all. Either way, you can't really solve the problem until you figure out what it actually is.

It's been a long time since you sent this in, anon, and i'm so sorry for the delay. I hope you're in a better mental place now and that you're found your way to whatever your next joyful moment might be.

#asks and answers #long post

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gascon-en-exil · 3 months

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A Primer on Actual (SFW-ish) Male Fanservice

Has this ever happened to you? You're making a social media post or video or whatever about Fire Emblem Heroes, and you point out that a primary feature of the game is its unrelenting torrent of horny-just-verging-on-explicit female character designs: the physics-defying bras, the impossibly-contorted boobs-and-butt poses, upskirts and camel toes galore, strategically-placed rips in damaged art, the odd foot focus here and there, etc.

You're making a good case - not that it's hard, IS is not subtle about any of this - but then someone comes along and leaves a comment to the effect of "but the summer banners have shirtless men! Checkmate, loser."

This post aims to counter that, to demonstrate that genuine male fanservice on par with what FEH does with its female characters looks very, very different and amounts to much more than just muscular guys with their shirts off. To do so, I'm going to have to pull example art from pretty much the only video game subgenre that can be relied upon to deliver here: sexually explicit gay dating sims. We're going to be looking at how these games frame the male body, and what sexualized (partial) male nudity really looks like outside of the aspirational power fantasy lens adopted by most mainstream, straight-male directed media including FEH.

Of course, I'm gay myself, and I can anticipate the rebuttal to this rebuttal - that women, allegedly, do not eroticize the body in the same way as men...unless they're dirty fujoshi in which case their opinions can be immediately discarded. I leave it to any women reading this to have fun unpacking that nonsense.

(It must be noted that, while the games I'm pulling these images from are all explicit, I've gone out of my way to select art that would theoretically fall within what seem to be the content guidelines of FEH: no exposed genitals or bare butts. I'm labeling this post SFW-ish all the same though, so use your discretion when viewing.)

Let's start with something simple and softcore from Coming Out on Top.

This is a variant on a popular mild fanservice image: a guy lifts his shirt, exposing his belly (and possibly stomach hair). In context this is also intended to convey vulnerability, as the character is drunk and struggling to undress. Also noteworthy is that the framing here is explicit with the MC in the shot.

Continuing with the softer stuff, here's one from clicker game Blush Blush.

This game has a bunch of technically SFW options to choose from, but I went with this for two reasons. One, it's an example of how shirtless men can be eroticized without being excessively muscular; two, it's a goofy holiday pic that teases with the strategically-placed candy cane and the allusion to the "Dick in a Box" Saturday Night Live song. The NSFW variation of this image goes full throttle with that idea.

From All Men Are Pigs:

I really wanted to include something from this game as its art style stands out quite a bit in contrast to many of the others here, although unfortunately some of the best examples break the rule. Here in a rare (for these games) non-sexual action pose, the character is performing a ballet routine on a stripper pole in a gay bar: a campy concept that works fairly well in context and that explicitly calls attention to the character as an eroticized object. He is, however, consenting to the in-universe ogling, and as he's elsewhere revealed to have experience with sex work it's understood that he knows the value of showing off his body. Call that something you'd never hear a character express in FEH...except someone like Camilla, perhaps?

Let's get a little spicier with a pair from Full Service.

This may be the tamest of the swimwear outfits seen in the game's beach episode, but I wanted something that would compare to the summer banner designs of FEH's male characters. Even so, note the pose: reclining, legs slightly open, displaying a single nipple. This guy is the biggest bottom in the game's cast and is framed as such, even with the relatively conservative outfit and the sunglasses obscuring his face (which symbolically tie into his internalized biphobia and anxiety about publicly expressing his attraction to men). Further, because this character is a model it may be assumed that the posing is intended to be read as deliberate.

This one comes from the game's costume night set piece, which includes several designs that wouldn't be out of place in some of the more random seasonal banners. I chose this one as a counterpoint to what FEH does with its shirtless men. There's the cocky expression, the crotch bulge with nothing underneath, and the angling which makes it look like he's standing over you. To contrast the beach image, this guy is the total top of the cast, so the musclebound partial nudity is less about being aspirational for the presumed viewer and more about erotic dominance.

For something more fantastical, here's one from the sci-fi title The Symbiant: Re:Union.

This game's main claim to fame is alien tentacle porn, but this scene is intended as a moment of genuine, human(oid) vulnerability for the character, on the night when he reunites with his ex (the MC and viewer here) for the first time in two years. The camera pans up over his entire body, ending on this view in profile with a very large nip slip and the cigarette calling attention to his hand and mouth. As with several others, this image is also deliberate enticement, conveying both the languor of casual hookups and the weight of the characters' history together. (Obviously a mobile gacha doesn't have the space to grant such narrative or thematic significance to its eroticism...but that is part of the point.)

Moving along, here's one from Camp Buddy: Scoutmaster Season. Get ready for the just-shy-of-X-rated.

This one's a character portrait, unlike all the others here which are CGs, so debatably it's more in line with what you'd see in FEH. And...yep. It's a sexy bull costume. "Crotch bulge" doesn't begin to cover it, there's the pubic hair, the pierced nipples, and assorted other bits like the bell and the saddle and the tailed butt plug. Some time ago I showed off a different horny character design from this game and got an anon calling it stupid, so let's talk about that. Is this design technically something someone could wear in real life? Yes; parts of it resemble bondage gear, and the character displays his interest in leather in another scene. Is it impractical and stupid? Quite possibly. Does the subsequent sex scene take full advantage of the costume for some Dom/sub barnyard roleplay? Also yes. This continues my point about designing beefy (heh) muscular guys, and how there's a world of difference between this and, like, Hawkeye or summer Ephraim/Dimitri/whoever.

Incidentally, this character also has an oversized dick to the point of straining disbelief and the MC's insides. If you're looking for the male equivalent of breasts so enormous they can barely be held in by barely-there tops, that would be giant dicks - and there's no way in hell that we'll ever see those in FEH, even in technically SFW bulge form.

Continuing with BLits's games, here's one from the upcoming Jock Studio.

It's a male boobs-and-butt pose, one that doesn't require the character to dislocate his spine! I chose this image because the pose and outfit choice is remarkably similar to that of the notorious Tharja Summer Scramble DLC pic that got censored outside of Japan. Jock Studio actually has a better instance of the same pose with a different character, one where the MC's horny dialogue even calls attention to the ampleness of those two elements; unfortunately, the character has his underwear off there so it's too horny for this post. Much like Tharja with Anna in the DLC, here the character is being surprised by someone walking in while they're changing and making comically lewd remarks about their body. The contextual difference is that, rather than being forced into a swimsuit, the character here is disrobing to film a pornographic scene, and is only surprised by the MC only just now learning that their club makes porn. Hilarity ensues in both cases, but JS's setup is ironically less voyeuristic despite the game's premise.

Finally, let's close things out with one last image from Coming Out on Top. Very borderline, but I've got a distinct point to make with this one.

Like a lot of media, gay dating sims often struggle with eroticized depictions of various types of men, among them fat, hairy, and middle-aged (or older). I believe the oldest human character with a stated age in this post is the bull guy, and he's merely in his 40s. But back to the image above, it takes full advantage of the size and age of the character on the right relative to the MC. His bulk takes up much of the frame, but it's clearly an intimate, protective embrace you'd expect of a bear daddy character. I point this out because larger and/or older male characters are often disregarded outright in FEH, or like Fargus recently they're paradoxically given more fanservice-y designs (Visible nipples and chest hair! In FEH!) presumably because the developers think that no one would look at them that way.

I think that's enough for now. The important thing to remember here is that sexual fanservice is more than simply degrees of nudity. It's about framing, angling, which body parts are emphasized, and when possible the surrounding circumstances and how they inform the character's eroticism. Is it deliberate, is it accidental...

...or is it just there to get you to gamble for your favorites?

#Fire Emblem Heroes #FEH #Gay dating sims #Male fanservice

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monsoon-of-art · 2 months

Note

SO! Awhile ago I sent an ask about how I shoved your OCs into a Café AU and with the latest few post you've been putting up, the AU has expanded.

Dragonfly is the tired barista inherited the Dragonfly Café and its trade secrets from her now retired abroad father, they talk through facetime. She also goes to college where she dorms with Michelle, Fabi and Taylor. She also over charges or short changes rude customers.

Clay is the café cleaner who fills in as a barista when Dragonfly has classes. Dragonfly let's him live in the flat above the café for free since she's already paid for her dorm room and never leaves the café premise other than to take the trash out.

Hayday is the annoying customer who always seems to order complex drinks at inconvenient times, tries making small talk with Dragonfly when she's clearly busy and never tips, the only reason why he's not banned is because Dragonfly can't really afford to ban anyone. He's several part time jobs and sometimes moonlights as a coffee boy for Ant Queen, the local sleazy motels owner, and eventualy Snake Eyes. He totally didn't develop a crush on Dragonfly after she gave him a free cup of coffee and slice of carrot cake after seeing him nearly collapse at the counter on a slow day. He dropped out of college to take care of his mum when she fell ill, is in both medical and educational debt.

Snake Eyes is a sleazy businessman whose been trying to buy the café out ever since Dragonflys father first built it and is now trying to either buy out the property from Dragonfly fairly or bankrupt it until she's forced to sell. He wants to demolish the building and the surrounding area to build something like a mall or apartment complex.

Nighthawk runs a crêpe stand outside of the café and tries to, unsuccessfully, poach customers. He swore revenge on the Dragonfly Café since he blame it for the cause of his parents diner going out of business.

Damselfly is the part time barista that Dragonfly hired to help Clay while she's in class after finding out that he was struggling. She hardly helps Clay in favour of being on her phone and is actually wealthy influencer online but doesn't tell anyone offline so they give her praise for being a 'struggling student working hard to pay off her loans'. She regularly post pictures of Dragonflys and Clays fancy coffee art designs and claims them as her own and keeps tips she receives instead of putting them in the shared tip jar.

Lovebug is the repeat customer who brings a new girl he catfished to the café atleast twice a month. He eventually develops a crush on Dragonfly because she comped his bill after a particular bad date which he believed meant she was into him, he also gets annoyed that she isn't dating him despite never asking her out and rarely talking to her outside of ordering drinks.

The Ice Cream Man is exactly the same as in canon, eldritch 'Wife' and all, no one knows what his deal is but he comes around on the 13th of every month no matter the weather, there could be a Magnitude 10 earthquake, a Category 9 tornado and a literal biblical downpour going on at the same time and he'll still be happily walking down the street with his 'Wife'. Everyone stays out of his way, once Nighthawk begrudgingly spent a day hiding in the Dragonfly Café just because he forgot what the date was when he set up his crêpe stand.

Drosera is the florist who owns the flower shop on the opposite side of the street to the café. She doesn't eat people since she isn't a plant but she'll do anything to ensure her shop stays afloat and is welling to go to some serious extremes in a calm methodical manner to do so.

Detective Victor is a small time detective whose spends his down time trying to slowly untangle the mystery of why businesses in the area around the Dragonfly Café keeps failing. He regularly comes to the café on his lunch breaks and is a good tipper.

Reporter Louise is a small time reporter for the local news agency who once had a bad experience in the café and took it personally. She takes every opportunity to rag on the small café and the only reason why she doesn't get reprimanded for it is because the her personal vendetta with the café is the most amusing thing her news agency has published in years.

Hope you enjoyed and keep uploading more work, you're giving me some serious brainrot with your OCs and I love it!

op I dont have much to add here but I love this a lot

#myocs #neon hero

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munsonsreputation · 10 months

Text

I THINK THERE'S BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER TWO - MY PART OF TOWN ON A WEEKEND

↢ chapter one | series masterlist | chapter three ↣

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [15.7K]

warnings: no use of y/n, breaking and entering (not in a bad way lol), talks mentions of self deprecation, steve opening up about his parents, cursing, mutual pining.

summary: Roane County soon becomes a place that Steve finds himself attracted to, especially for that one special person. Meanwhile you find it hard to believe that Steve and your new friends actually make the effort to show up for you in more ways than one--even if tonight it's just you and Steve. There's a newness yet comfort between the both of you that has been brewing since your first meeting, it's just a matter of when and where things will start to pick up...in his car, in your living room, or in your wildest dreams?

Steve didn’t know when he started becoming so prompt when it came to time, possibly when he picked up the duty of dropping off and picking up the kids from school. But nonetheless, he hated running late, and he also hated the fact that other people would be waiting on him. Today was no different, and he wasn’t planning on breaking a promise to a very special person whom he said he’d show up for.

He had specifically told Robin to be ready on time and to even call Eddie to remind him of today’s plans, seeing as though he was so forgetful, but obviously it just always had to be them and his horrible time managing friends.

Steve couldn’t wait, impatiently tapping his foot on the Wheeler’s driveway waiting for the rest of the kids to show up so they could get going, but of course if one was taking too long to get ready, the other wasn’t ready at all. Nancy and Jonathan had told him to get going first—that they would all meet up there eventually when everyone was ready.

And that should’ve worked out, except for the fact that Steve was the only person out of the group to make it past the “Welcome to Roane County” sign before city troopers closed the roads due to a bumper to bumper accident. The bouquet of flowers sitting in his passenger seat and the white top you had left behind in his bedroom in the backseat hoping to find its way back to you tonight.

With his foot on the pedal, he pressed down harder, watching each minute go by on his dash clock, hoping he’d be able to catch you in time before it was too late.

You sat on the wooden crate, elbows resting on your knees as you looked both ways watching bystanders walking through the halls of the almost empty gallery. It was a slow day, not too many people showed up, probably because it was a Sunday night and most times people had better things to do than walk around and observe art but part of you wished at least some would care.

To top it all off, you’d only gotten three sales out of the thirteen paintings you had brought to the event—not like they weren’t any good, but they were meaningful in your eyes and you wished others would see it too.

You had spent the last few days thinking about something other than Steve, knowing good and well that you were an adult and there was surely more to life than a guy. Bills had to be paid and the last thing you should be doing was kicking your feet and blushing like a high schooler with a crush on the pretty boy.

Plus, you realized that it didn’t do you any good thinking so hard about him and what he felt for you because it could be all in your head.

You needed to realize that banking and hoping he would feel the same just wasn’t worth your time or energy. If you kept digging yourself into this hole of feelings for him and those feelings not be reciprocated, you’d just bury yourself there in a pit of embarrassment.

You had learned long ago that holding out hope for something you weren’t positively confident about would only hurt you, and you were sure this was just something you were going to sweat out and laugh about later.

Both you and Steve were adults, and if there was a chance for more, then you’d just have to wait it out until you were sure.

The only thing keeping you going tonight was heading home and spending the rest of the night thinking about the next week and how much work you needed to get done. So much to be done, but so little energy and inspiration you had left to get it finished.

People always had this idea that your mind was constantly running with ideas too fast for your paintbrush or pen to catch, which in some instances could be the case, but for you it wasn’t as easy. You’d hit a drought in muse, barely having the spirit to get up and actually create something that was your own.

It was taking everything in you not to give up and call it quits because you worked too hard to get here. You had spent too many years proving and fighting towards a goal of following the dream that you envisioned for yourself. It was the voices of people telling you that your passion was “childish” or “just a hobby” that put a fire under your ass to get out of this artist block. That giving up this easily meant giving them the last laugh and you sure as hell weren’t going to do that.

“I’m not too late, am I?”

The pair of shoes coming into your line of sight followed by the voice you could never mistake broke through the barriers of your thoughts. You looked up and there he was, trying to catch his breath from the quick jog from the parking lot to the inside, not wanting to miss you before you packed up and left.

A wave of relief filled your anxiety ridden senses finally seeing someone that you recognized for the first time tonight.

“Steve.” You beamed up at him through your sad eyes, instantly standing up and wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“Hey.” He grinned against your head, pulling away somewhat to see your face, the sadness clearly fading with each second you two spent in each other’s arms.

“You’re not too late.” You exhaled before hugging him again and finally letting him go.

“And these are for you.”

He grinned handing over the small bunch of roses that you hadn’t noticed when he first walked in just relieved to see him here.

Your hands wrapped around the brown paper, shielding your palms from any stray thorns as you held them close to your chest and inhaling the clove scent that radiated off of the blossoms.

“Thanks!”

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets while you fidgeted with your hands. The two of you holding eye contact filled with happiness yet nervousness behind them—both of you trying not to let it show though.

Steve smiled broadly, seeing the artwork behind you, “I’m glad I made it on time, I wouldn’t wanna miss it. I was just stuck in traffic for a little. That’s why it took me a while to get here.”

A part of you felt terrible for the hassle he must have gone through, considering the fact that Roane was already an hour away from Hawkins. Adding traffic meant it must have taken longer than usual. If you had known, you would’ve told him it was alright for him not to make it today.

But the other part of you felt smitten that he had sat through that hour of traffic just to be here. It showed that he was committed and didn’t like breaking promises, even if it was as little as something like this.

God, you were totally forgetting that inner monologue you had about Steve and relationships doing you no good.

You reached out a hand, skimming his arm appreciatively as you grinned so widely it took up most of your face.

“You really didn’t have to, Steve.”

But your reaction told Steve that you felt otherwise from your words. More than elated with the fact that he had made the effort to show, and he was glad that he delivered. He wiggled, swinging his head, as your hand fell from his skin, wishing it would stay there longer so he could never forget it.

“I wanted to, and so did the others, but they were a little behind. You know, Will was really looking forward to coming tonight.” He mentioned wistfully.

Steve just now reminding you of the others who were not here beside him. It had totally slipped your mind that the rest of your friends weren’t here and greeting you tonight at the gallery.

But was it really wrong to admit that you also had totally forgotten that you had invited them in the first place?

It wasn’t like you didn’t care if they showed up or not, but you always learned to never set your expectations so high when it came to people showing up for you. Therefore, you always tried to not take it personally when others didn’t follow through with their words or commitments.

Back when you were still dating your ex, you used to invite him and your then friends to your galleries, expecting they’d just pop in to show some support, but they never did. So you just learned to suck it up and accept the fact that even if someone you loved said that they would show, there was always a possibility that they weren’t.

Yet here you were, with Steve being the one to show up, and now actually hearing how the others made an effort to want to show up tonight, too. It made you feel soft inside, like a plate of mush which would reduce to nothing because the tenderness was too much for you to handle and fathom for yourself.

“Oh…” You murmured under your breath, letting those words and his actions sink in for a second.

Steve caught it, the way you glassed over once he told you that information not knowing what you were feeling deep down.

“Buuuuttt I’m here so I hope it’s still ok.”

You snapped out of the glassed over expression the second you heard his voice coming to you again. It wasn’t just a dream of someone actually showing up for you…Steve was really here, and if it wasn’t for the damn traffic accident, the others would be here too. Friends who actually showed up for you for once.

“More than ok.” You grinned, nodding more to yourself than to him.

He smiled once you came back too, your free hand reaching out to grab his arm and lead you to the canvas that you propped up against the walls. Your fingertips only fell off his skin as you took the time to rearrange the canvas so that he could see them all clearly without them overlapping one another.

Every piece was different, yet the same, a collage of colors and techniques that worked together to make such a sight for the eyes. And for the first time in Steve Harrington’s life, he came to appreciate art and almost felt like he could see every brush stroke that you had put into them.

His own fingertips strung free from his pockets, reaching out to feel the paint over his skin. There was a texture in this specific painting, the one of a bright blue sky with pastel clouds, something out of a lover-like fantasy world.

“Wow… so this is all you, right?”

You nervously squeezed your hand tightly around the stems, nodding your head “Yeah, and they’re not my best work but—“

At the admission of hearing you tear yourself down so quickly, he jumped in headfirst and didn’t let you finish that sentence. Instead, he looked at you like you were totally mad — furry brows bunched together as he pshed and gestured back to Lover painting he was now going to coin it.

“No, these are amazing… I mean like seriously, the details are so realistic.”

You laughed lightly, whispering a soft “thank you.”

You watched him, the way he didn’t skip a beat, grabbing the next painting beside the pastel sunset. There was a visible contrast between the two canvases. Unlike the previous one that was filled with bright colors, this was gray and black. A forest somewhere that you had made up in your imagination, with tall trees and an ominous fog that you could only dream about what was on the other side of it.

“How much?” Steve asked you, turning his head to look your way where you raised your brows confused.

“What?” Your eyes squinted, trying to understand if he meant how much time you took to paint it.

“For a painting. This one looks really cool and I think it would look nice on my wall. The car poster is getting a little lonely up there all by itself.”

He chuckled, looking back at the painting and holding it far out towards the wall to try to picture it in his room.

You couldn’t take him seriously. There was no way he was asking you how much a painting was. None of your friends ever bought a piece of your artwork, and never even voiced want to own something that you had taken the time to make. Which is why you never really had a lot of friends anymore, but let alone believe what you heard coming from Steve’s mouth.

“W-what?”

He looked at you, raising his brows then going to pick up another, “No? Then what about this one? I think it would be a nice contrast because the colors of my walls are actually—”

You stopped him, clutching onto his wrist because you couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t have to pity you and purchase something just to be kind. You didn’t want him to go out of his way for that.

“Steve, you really don’t have to buy one.” Your voice was full of trepidation and uncertainty, something he didn’t understand.

He placed the piece down prompting you to let go of his wrist as you shuffled back awkwardly, not meeting his eyes and instead boring holes into the pieces you had made, judging every detail and how Steve couldn’t possibly own one of them, let alone hang it on his wall.

“Why not?” He sought gently, his fingertips grazing your hands that you tugged on, halting you for a moment as you finally looked up to meet his eyes.

You swallowed, wiggling your shoulders as you struggled to find the words.

“B-because, I don’t know…they’re really not my best work and it’s embarrassing—“

Again, he shook his head with a look of reassurance accompanied with a deep frown that was unhappy about the way you were talking about yourself and the things you created.

“Hey, nonono, they’re all so beautiful. I’m serious. And I seriously want to buy one, so please?”

You took a deep breath, tightly pursing your lips and nodding, “Fine, ummm, just pick any you want… let’s say, $20!”

He finally let up, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out more than a $20 bill and placing it in the palm of your hand, “You’re selling yourself too short.”

The contact of your hands touching already made your heart race a little faster, but it was the squeeze that he gave you that made your knees weak, along with the signature toothy smile that was a burning image in your head.

His hand retraced a few seconds later allowing you to stuff the cash into your back pocket, “No one buys art from an amateur over $20.”

“Then they don’t deserve your art because this is worth way over $20.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

There was a few seconds of silence, watching Steve examine the piece he had picked out and you trying to see what wheels were spinning in his head. Probably him thinking about which wall to hang it on or worse, where the nearest garbage can was so he could dump it out and forget about it.

You pinched your eyes shut for a minute, silently cursing yourself out of these stupid self-deprecating thoughts that always seemed to come out for no goddamn reason at all, even after the nice things Steve had said.

“I should pack up, everyone is leaving.” You cradled the bunches of flowers in your arm getting ready to clean up and get going, but of course, Steve beat you to it.

Flipping over the wooden crate you were once sitting on, he tucked his purchased canvas under his arm while he carefully began to grab the other canvas, standing them upright in the wooden box.

He always did this, and you weren’t sure if it was just when it came to you, or maybe it was a thing he did with the rest of his friends. But he was always willing to help—at least when it came to you. Always springing into action before you could even ask for help and even if you didn’t, he wanted to.

“Will these fit in your trunk, or should I put them in the backseat?” He asked, beginning to walk towards the exit doors, ignoring your protests to try to carry the crate yourself.

You eventually gave up, a small snicker coming from him that you picked up on as you caught up with him.

“Umm neither? I took the bus today.”

He held the door open for you with his foot, listening while you walked out into the brisk night air.

“I could give you a ride back home?” He suggested, looking at you, trying to decide.

“Are you sure?” You bit your lip, looking up at him where he nodded and fished his keys out of his pocket, dangling it in the air.

You smiled softly, finishing into your own pocket, fingers spreading the cash he had given you just a few moments earlier, “I’ll take it if you let me pay for dinner?”

He shook his head with a chuckle before devotedly nodding his head.

“We have a deal.”

The maroon BMW was easy to spot in the parking lot. Steve clicked the unlock button as the car offered one, two beeps before he popped the trunk open and carefully placed your things in there. You were already making your way to the passenger seat as he shut it, ready to pull the door open, but his hand reached forward first.

Your eyes jerked to his, where he hovered closely behind you before pulling it open, “let me.”

Was Steve always this gentleman-like? Did he always open the door for his passengers? Maybe for Robin, but you weren’t quite sure about the others. Though you didn’t have much time to ponder his chivalrous, the door slightly closed after you had gotten in and the driver’s door opened as he jogged over.

“Where are we headed?” He tugged on his seatbelt, clicking it in as his eyes remained on yours.

“Do you like breakfast for dinner?” You asked, fingers brushing over the floral petals sitting in your lap before you flickered your eyes up at him.

“Show me the way.” He grinned, putting the car in drive and letting you give him directions to your favorite spot.

Maybe it was the fact that Steve had done a good job at preparing himself to not look and sound like an idiot when it came to you, but today he was more at ease which was surprising considering the fact that it was your first time alone without the rest of the crew actually around. All of the nervousness and built up anxiety from the last encounter seemed to have melted from both of your minds, just focusing on the now and savoring it.

When you and Steve finally arrived, you had beat him to opening your door, however he did walk a few milliseconds faster just so he could hold the front doors to the diner open while you brushed past him with a giggle.

“Hi, sweetie pie!”

The voice of your dear friend and favorite waitress, Dorothea, came barreling out the double doors of the kitchen as she caught your entrance through the tiny window sliver. Dorothea was a lot older than you, but she felt like the only friend and mother figure you had here in Roane.

You immediately wrapped your arms around her, hugging her closely with a squeeze, “Hi, Dorthy! Missed you!”

She laughed at your nickname for her, rubbing your back warmly before pulling away and turning her curious sights to Steve, “Missed you more, pumpkin. And who might this be?”

You backed away, just enough to stand beside Steve and gesture to him, “A friend of mine! He came by to stop at the gallery and I had to take him here.”

He waved at her, stepping forward with a hand lent out for her to shake, but in Dorthy’s overly-friendly manner, she wrapped him up in a hug, a tight one just like she had you in a few moments ago.

“Oh—well this is nice.” He mumbled, making you stifle a laugh as he shyly hugged her back and patted her shoulder stiffly.

Finally letting go, she took a good look at him, almost inspecting every detail of his face with her brows slightly raised, trying to intimidate him and send him running out the door. It was safe to say that Dorothea was protective of you, just like a mother would to a daughter, and to her, you were the one she never had. It meant a lot to see you walking in for the first time in a year with a boy whom she had never seen by your side. But seeing as though Steve didn’t seem to be scared or cower backwards, she laughed, giving his shoulder a firm pat.

“Your name?” She ordered plainly.

He swallowed, glancing at your not so fazed self, “Umm, Steve. Steve Harrington.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve!” She patted him on the back, before turning to you with a wink, “C’mon, your favorite seat is open.”

You screeched softly, clapping your hands to yourself quietly. Dorthy guided the both of you to a secluded booth in the back of the diner, the one with the only working jukebox machine and motioned for you to slide in and take a seat.

“Wanna take a look at the menu, hun?” Dorthy pulled out a copy of the menu from her apron, passing it to Steve who thanked her.

“Do you know what you’re getting?” He proposed, looking up at you from the menu.

You nodded with a smile, your eyes drifting up, seeing her pen drifting over the notepad just awaiting your confirmation.

“The usual,” you responded as she bowed and began jotting it down.

As she wrote, you turned your attention back to Steve, filling him in on what you ordered all the time.

“A Spanish omelet. A side of French toast smothered with strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. And a small decaf and water.”

“A meal fit for champions.” Dorthy quips as Steve laughs, not bothering to look at the rest of the menu.

“I’ll get the same thing, but instead of strawberries can I do the blueberries?”

“Sure, hon,” she says, doubling the order and making a note from the fruit substitute.

Steve handed her back the menu as she finished up, watching the ballpoint pen point towards the wall of the booth where Strawberry Shortcake and Elvis were singing next to a road sign that read, “Music and Food Ahead!”

“You know she did the mural in here?”

Dorth wore a proud expression, watching Steve’s eyes go wide, and twisting his head around at the restaurant that was covered in your art.

You rolled your eyes lovingly, shoving away at her hands, “stop it, Dorth!”

“Holy shit…you did all this by yourself?”

Steve leaned closer to the wall, getting a good look at the meticulous detail that you put into the whole thing. His eyes shuffled between going wide and squinting to take it all in.

Dorothea didn’t give you time to respond to his question, instead speaking for you, “Yep, in 113 hours.”

“131” you corrected with a smirk as she rolled her eyes sarcastically and clicked her pen shut.

Steve let out another expletive under his breath, tearing his eyes from the wall leaning back into the seat to look at you in amazement that you hadn’t told him this sooner. If he had known you had painted and designed a mural for a diner as big as this one, he would’ve asked Jonathan if he could borrow his camera so he could take pictures of it.

“131 hours… she’s talented, you know.” She raised her brows at Steve with a hand on her hip.

He beamed, patting the walls and not letting his eyes leave yours, “Insanely.”

Dorothea was warming up to him, a giddy laugh erupting as she nudged your shoulder with her elbow.

“I like him!” She buzzed not so softly to you as you giggled and hung your head down shyly away from Steve’s gaze.

The ripping of paper came from her notepad, ready to head back over to the kitchen and get your dishes started,

“Food should be out in twenty. Try not to break the jukebox in the meantime.”

You looked back over your shoulder shouting out, “I would never!” as she waved her hand in the air mindlessly at you

Steve’s eyes were still glued to you, filled with awe at hearing just how much work you put into doing this all yourself. But you, on the other hand, were too busy scanning the songs on the marquee, wondering which one you would pick to play first.

“I still can’t believe you did all this.” Steve shook his head in disbelief, fingers tracing the outline of the road that you painted on the adjacent wall.

You grunted, wiggling your shoulders as you began to tell him more of how you got in that position in the first place.

“Dorothea and I met because she used to stop by the gallery from time to time and when she got the job here, she told the owner about my work.”

“Really?” Steve asked, watching you finally take your sights away from the jukebox and look at him.

You nodded, resting your chin on your fist, “Originally they just had the checkerboard pattern in here,” you pointed to the black-and-white tiles that were on the ground, his eyes following your finger.

“But then Dorothy reached out and asked if I was willing to come in and do a custom 50s mural.”

“But in that many hours? How’s that even possible?” He crossed his arms over his chest watching you closely.

You looked behind you suspiciously before leaning closer towards him, your mouth covering one side of your mouth as you whispered.

“A ton of coffee and a promise of free food for life….but the owner doesn’t know that.” You confessed, watching him throw his head back and cover his face as he laughed.

“You’re gonna milk them dry of coffee and pancakes one day,” He joked

You shrugged your shoulders, relaxing back into the booth and sighing, “They’ll survive just like how I survived painting this piece of crap.”

The insult towards yourself slipped without hesitation, masked with faint laughter while you looked around the too colorful restaurant where the walls were littered with everything that came from your hands.

As soon as it left your mouth, Steve’s laughter stopped watching your eyes drift over the rest of the diner, shaking your head to yourself as if you were disgusted with the masterpiece you made. He didn’t know why you were so hard on yourself, your own worst critic at times even when it came to little things that he would die to be praised upon.

But you hated it as if you hated yourself.

“Why do you always do that?” He sought, leaning on his elbows, seeing you turn to face him.

Your forehead creased up, silently asking him what he meant.

“Why do you always tear yourself down? I—I noticed that about you.”

His voice was quiet, mixed with a hint of concern, obviously. The crease in your forehead fell, and instead you looked almost bewildered, as if you didn’t know how to answer it rather than why he was questioning you in the first place.

“I don’t know, i—it’s easier for me to be critical than to be nice to myself.” You admitted, swallowing and looking down at the jukebox like the list of songs would distract you from his stare you could feel.

“Why?” Steve asked again simply, not trying to prod but just trying to understand.

You shrugged again, not meeting his eyes this time around, “It’s what I’m used to hearing — how I need to do more instead of being satisfied with what I did.”

“Then why not just think about what you did in the moment and be proud of that?”

You scoffed, not with any harsh intentions but just at the irony, because you always tried but had those other voices eating away at you. The devil living rent free in your consciousness, tearing you down at every opportunity.

“You mean what wasn’t enough?” You respond dryly, and Steve rolled his eyes, tutting at your response.

He offers you a stern look, but at the same time a gentle kind that tells you he truly means what he’s saying.

“Stop that. You’re doing it again and you know that it’s not true.”

“It kinda is…I mean, just look at me. I haven’t painted anything in days. You bought a canvas that I haven’t been able to sell in months. I’m practically the epitome of a failure right now.”

You looked just as stressed as you sounded. Hands running from your forehead to your scalp, threading your fingers through your hair and giving them a slight tug. Lips parted as you took a deep and long breath out. Eyes pinching closed accompanied with a shake of your head before they snapped open and met his apologetically.

“S—sorry, I’m rambling. I just…it’s been so hard to actually get stuff done, y’know?”

He nodded sympathetically as if he knew exactly what you were talking about, but in his head, the most stressful thing that happened with his job was getting tapes returned after the deadline and having to deal with complicated customers who didn’t want to pay the late fee.

Still, he just wanted to make you feel better.

“I mean, I get it,” He started, swallowing, trying to gather his thoughts into a clump of something that would make sense.

“…I can’t even imagine how stressful painting this entire restaurant must have been, and on top of that, I know it’s probably a lot of pressure to keep producing those pieces of art—but it’s gotta be worth a little more than money, you know?”

Steve’s words intrigued and perplexed you in the best possible way. Letting up on the tug you have on your roots, you brought your fists back down to your chin as you raised a querying brow at him. He understood, nodding as he licked his lips and peers up again, trying to muster the thoughts.

“Like—it’s like you don’t realize that people are actually so captivated by what you make. I swear, if you told Robin or Will that you painted this place, they’d go batshit crazy and run around here complimenting everything you did. So would everyone else.”

There is truth to every single word he’s saying and Steve knows that, yet you still sit across from him, wondering if that’s really true. As if there was a possibility that he’d ever lie about something so small yet incredibly important to you, because this was a habit of self-deprecation that was planted by someone who was the opposite of Steve.

The person who would nit-pick at everything you did and made you feel like the things that you enjoyed doing and were proud of shouldn’t be on a pedestal and appreciated. Instead, it was knocked off and shattered into a million tiny pieces where every single flaw was showcased.

And while the person wasn’t in your life anyone, there was a permanent mark that you couldn’t erase and the habit that you never got the chance to grow out of — being so judgemental and critical of yourself.

“I’m sorry…did—did I say something?”

You were quiet for less than a minute, but it was enough to fret Steve and regret what he had said, thinking he must have hit a little too close to home.

Why was he always like this? It happened just a few days ago when you both were separated between his bedroom door and now sitting here in front of you actually seeing you go silent felt even more anxiety inducing.

But you shook your head quickly, glazed eyes coming back to life, full of reassurance just like the words that you spoke a little too fast for your liking.

“Yeah…I mean no! I mean, yeah, you said something, but not in a bad way. In a good way, actually! I just… sorry, I’m thinking.”

Steve replied with a small tight-lipped smile, nodding his head as a way to say, take all the time you need and think away… but just be sure to think good things about yourself.

You turned your head on your hands, deliberately making a round through the diner that you painted and poured your heart and soul into. That sure, while Dorthy had to bribe you with some coffee and food because the owner didn’t meet your price, it was actually decent and if you weren’t the one who painted it, you would’ve been praising it every time you walked in here.

Even if you painted Strawberry Shortcake’s lashes a little too full that it looked like spider legs or made Elvis’ hair so tall it could be mistaken for a wave, it all came together and like Steve said it was worth more than what you were paid.

It gave you experience.

Spending days going back-and-forth sharing sketches with the owner and even his little daughter that begged and pleaded with her dad to include Strawberry Shortcake despite the 50s theme.

Multiple trips back over to your favorite art store in Hawkins to pick up the paints that you liked to work with in too many shades to count.

Long days and even longer nights with your headphones blasting the same tape on repeat when you just started outlining the whole thing.

Hunched over in awkward positions and standing on a creaky ladder to make sure you didn’t miss filling in a spot with color.

On goers on the other side of the windows peering in to admire the art inside the diner that would soon be a grand opening to them.

Signing your name teeny tiny-ly in pink right beside Strawberry Shortcake’s hat when you finally finished the whole piece.

Getting the biggest hug from the owner’s daughter once she stepped in and saw her favorite character painted included on the mural.

Getting even more compliments and praise from the staff and customers who were impressed by the sheer talent that was depicted on the wall.

Steve was right.

It was worth more than money and sure as hell was worth a lot more than your critiques when you did the very best you could with the deal you had in front of you at the time.

Why were you always so mean to yourself when all you wanted was to just be nice?

You were nice to Dorthea.

You were nice to Robin.

You were to all of your new friends.

You were especially nice to Steve.

But you weren’t nice to yourself.

You had to start making an effort to be.

Your eyes made its last round of the diner, ending with your orbs meeting Steve’s, whose didn’t seem to tear away from you during your thinking time. He watched every second, seeing the way you’d pinch your eyes tight to see something better and how he could tell there was happiness behind them when they landed on a particular part you were proud of.

The wheels were turning in your head and he hoped what he said stuck because he wanted, needed you to know his words were true. You were everything in a way that was too profound for him to ever describe.

“Whatcha thinking?” Steve pondered out loud as your eyes finally landed on his.

You smiled gingerly, shrugging your shoulders, “That I ought to be nicer to myself.”

“Yeah?” Steve grinned heartily, content with the fact that you were seeing it through the way that he was.

You nodded assuringly before your hands trailed behind you, reaching into your pocket and pulling out your wallet. He watched you, hearing the zip from a compartment being opened followed by the clank of the coin dropping onto the table.

“Annnnnnd I’m also thinking about what song I’m gonna play.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at how short and sweet you kept it when it came to what you were really thinking about just then. But to him what mattered the most was that you heard him out and something inside you lit up bright enough if you had told him that you were really going to start being nicer to yourself.

Whatever you were thinking and keeping to yourself was fine by him, just crossing his fingers that he wouldn’t need to hear you tear yourself down any longer because if he did, he was sure that he was going to tell you all the reasons why he thought you were so great.

Your fingernail traveled down the list of songs, beaming excitedly when you saw your favorite as you hastily inserted the coin and punched in the number and letter that got the tune ringing through the restaurant speakers.

Steve couldn’t help but smile as the piano crescendoed through the diner and your head thumped to the beat while your mouth moved along with the lyrics. Last summer he had taken the kids to watch Top Gun at the theaters and for a week straight they couldn’t stop singing the song. He had almost grown annoyed with it until now.

He was going to be sure to thank them for singing it so much that the lyrics were now ingrained in his brain so much so that he didn’t miss a beat mouthing along with you as you giggled through the tune, surprised he knew it so well by heart.

Though you were sitting, Steve could tell that you were letting go in some oddly cute way that he hadn’t seen you before. Your shoulders grooving to the beat and your hair tousling with each shake you gave to accompany the rhythm. You looked like you were having the time of your life here with him even if it was just at some diner in your part of town with your favorite song playing in the background.

His palms rested against the cool table top, sliding himself out of his seat and holding out his hands towards you as the music continued. Your head bops stopped for only a few seconds, eyeing the hand he held out to you before trailing to his face.

“Let’s dance?” He asked, wiggling his brows while his head thumped.

You bit your lip, looking back at the nearly empty diner knowing that it didn’t matter if this place was full or not, you were going to take his hand and dance for the next two minutes. Being nicer to yourself meant many things and not caring what others thought was one of them.

“Sure, why not,” you breathed, taking his hand as he pulled you up out of your seat and began moving the both of you to the beat of the music as you sang along.

Your hands holding onto his as you both jumped around looking like complete love sick fools in the back of the diner where the few customers way up front smiled at the sight. Laughter intertwined with the singing and hair moving in every direction with each sway and turn.

All the care in the world that you could give right now went out the window with Steve’s hand in yours. Not even in the romantic or platonic sense, but in a human way that was too complex for you to describe. Like some sort of sorcery that sucked you into an alternate dimension where you could just be free of judgment and anxiety.

At one point in your life, you used to sit across the table with someone who would tell you to stop wasting your quarters playing dumb 50s love songs while you devoured pancakes. And here you were playing those stupidly dumb love songs with someone who got up and asked you to dance not caring how many quarters you’d use for the remainder of the night.

Steve wished that he had ordered more food because maybe then it would take longer for the order to come out and cut the dancing short, but still he kept it going. Pouring out all his change into a pile near the jukebox as you two ate your dinner, taking turns picking songs while he resisted the urge to ask you to dance with him again.

If he did, however, you were sure you’d drop your fork in a snap and take his hand all over again.

A snap back to reality is what Steve took instead, instantly flooded with a hug from Dorothea as she walked you two out of the diner and wrapped her arms across his body snuggly.

“It was nice meeting you, honey bun! Get her home safely and I hope I see you around soon!”

Steve snickered, nodding against her shoulder before he pulled away and stepped aside, giving you ample room to hug her.

“Bye, Dorth, I’ll see you! Thanks again for dinner!”

You kissed her cheek lovingly before pulling away, waving one last goodbye to her before you and Steve walked towards his car.

It didn’t surprise you that instead of heading towards the driver’s side; he jogged up to the passenger door, holding it wide open for you as you trailed a bits behind him. You shook your head halfheartedly, watching a smirk splay over his face still holding the door for you.

“After you,” He said in his best English accent, making you giggle as you slid into the seat and he shut the door before you could give him your gratitude.

A few seconds later, he was already in the driver’s seat, buckling in and starting up the car, ready for the drive back to your place. You watched him check his mirrors one last time before he shifted the car to reverse, his head turning back to the rear as his hand rested behind your chair as he backed out.

“Did you need me to give you directions?” You shifted your body towards him.

He shook his head, turning back around and moving the car into drive, “I think I know the way from here, but a little tour guide would be nice.”

The radio wasn’t needed for the car ride back, instead the air was filled with gasps and pointed fingers in different directions as Steve drove and you happily gave him a brief tour of your part of town. Not that it was any different from Hawkins with the small-town feel to it, but in a lot of ways Roane just felt more cozy.

Steve picked up on that right away, feeling the sense that Roane was more like you in many ways, but especially the scenery. Even in the night, he could see the rose bushes that decorated the side roads and the endless turns into different mom-and-pops that were slowly dying out in his town.

You pointed out the small park down the road which held your town’s weekly farmers’ market that you grocery shopped at most of the time. A lot of the produce was from local farmers and gardens. You even mentioned that during the fall, Merrill Wright who owns the pumpkin patch in Hawkins, occasionally stops by and donates pumpkins for the town’s annual carving contest.

But your favorite part of town seemed to be a small cafe called Taylor’s, or that’s just what Steve was assuming by your reaction.

“And that’s my favorite coffee shop!” You blurted, pointing at the quaint store on the corner of the block you and Steve drove past.

You began to trail off, telling him about the place that you found yourself always going to, “They have this honey rose latte, and it’s like the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life… you need to try it! And they make these things called cronuts—”

“Cronuts?” Steve peeked over at you with a soft smile playing on his lips, captivated by your enthusiasm over a baked good that was foreign to him.

“Yeah! So it’s basically like if a croissant and donut had a child. Perfectly flaky on the outside, yet soft and buttery on the inside. They make a couple of variations every morning, but they usually sell out so quickly before I can get my hands on any.”

You sighed sadly, sulking back into the seat, knowing that you were never really a morning person and with their early opening time, it would be impossible to drag yourself out of bed to snag a dozen, no matter how heavenly they tasted.

“Have you ever tried making your own? I’m sure you could do it,” Steve spoke, turning the wheel into your complex.

You shook your head. “I tried a few times, but I can’t seem to get it down. I even tried asking the owners to share the recipe, but I think it’s one of the family ones that they want to keep a secret.”

He turned into a parking spot directly in front of your unit where the motion sensor light sparked up, casting a gentle golden glow around the both of you.

“That’s a shame. You know, I could always try to sneak in and steal their secret recipe for you?” His voice was laced with playfulness.

You couldn’t help but giggle, scrunching your face up with laughter, “I don’t think I’d have enough to bail you out for trespassing and robbery, Steve.”

His eyes drifted up in the air, while his fingers pointed at you. “But if I get the recipe for you, then you could open up your own place and outsell them, then you could bail me out.”

You reached out to poke at his arm gently, shaking your head. “Don’t entice me! Though I don’t think I’d be able to sleep or bake knowing you’re locked up.”

The car had been placed into park a little while ago, yet here you and Steve sat, still looking at each other with awfully wide smiles that didn’t have any plans to disappear anytime soon — the two of you wanting to stay in the sweet warmth that enveloped you.

Steve shrugged his shoulders and his eyes sparkled with adoration, “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. The guys would totally be scared to mess with me after hearing how far I went to get a recipe for the best baker in Roane.”

You blushed stupidly at his words, “I’m just a regular person that enjoys baking!”

“Nope! You’re like on some Julia Child level. I won’t be surprised if you have your own baking show one day.” He said genuinely.

Crackling your nose, genuine humor and horror flashed over your face, “Ew god no! She’s amazing and I’m terrible on camera. I’ll probably freeze up and forget that I’m supposed to be talking the audience through every step.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, scolding you softly, “Hey, be nice to yourself.”

Your eyes widened at the realization, totally letting the comment slip by accident, “Sorry! Sorry, I forgot! But like seriously, I’m camera shy and that’s a fact, not an insecurity thing.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, when I was seven the local reporter asked me what my favorite ride at the county fair was and I froze up and I asked for my mommy.”

He pursed his lips, blinking his eyes closed and nodding his head admittedly while you slapped a hand over your mouth in shock. You tried to stifle your laughter but you couldn’t, convulsing down with endless giggles erupting in your chest.

“Steve! God, I’m so sorry! You must have been traumatized!”

He joined in on the laughter, rubbing his hand behind his neck, “I refused to watch the news! Every time my dad would turn it on, I would sprint towards the remote and change the channel because I was terrified of seeing myself on there.”

“I guess that would make two of us dorks on camera.” You settled down, eyes lingering on him where he nodded with a smile.

Neither of you wanted to say goodnight.

“I-I had a really great time tonight.” You started, rubbing your hands together in your lap, the slight wrinkling of the brown wrapping paper around the flowers making the only noise in the car.

He hummed in agreement, “So did I…the most fun in a while, but I’m probably going to be dreading sitting in traffic all the way back home, but it was worth—”

“Why don’t you stay over at mine tonight?”

The offer came out a little quick for your liking, even without you fully thinking it through, but it just seemed like the right thing to say.

“Really?” Steve asked, lifting his brows

You nodded, gulping down quickly, “Yeah! I can take the couch and you can take—”

“I’m not letting you take the couch.”

You breathed out, rolling your eyes, “Fine! You can take the couch and I’ll be sure to give you plenty of blankets and fluff up the pillows extra nice.”

“Hmm, it sounds tempting. You sure? I really don’t mind sitting through the traffic.”

You nodded firmly again, “Positive! Plus, they take forever to reopen the roads here, but they’ll probably be open in the morning and it’ll be just right.”

After having reassured him of his stay, he removed the keys out of the ignition before following your lead as you exited the car. You remained on the pavement, subconsciously waiting for Steve and digging into your jean pocket for your keys. Steve was quick, making a pit stop at the trunk to grab your crate of paintings you had forgotten about.

“Oh, thank you!” You whispered as you felt him behind you.

He simply smiled, following step by step to your front door and lingering close by as you worked the key into the lock, twisting it open. You entered first, your hand blindlessly pushing the door to keep it open for Steve as he stepped through. The dark entrance quickly lit up with the yellow fluorescence from when you flipped the light switch on.

You tioed your sneakers off, placing them on the small rack near the door and tossing your keys in the small pottery bowl.

“You can just give those to me.” You said, holding your arm out to finally take the crate from Steve as he obliged and worked on unlacing his shoes and placing them next to yours.

You walked deeper into your apartment, setting the crate down in an empty corner in the living room before you began turning on the rest of the lights to brighten up the place a bit. Surprisingly, you kept the place pretty tidy over the last few days, just a couple of paint bottles that you had left on the coffee table as you attempted to paint this morning before the gallery — unfortunately, that was unsuccessful.

And while Steve kept to himself, watching you quietly as you walked around and picked up a few things you had lying around, he couldn’t help but notice the vase of flowers he had previously given to you, still thriving in the middle of your coffee table.

Soon you were already heading towards the kitchen, walking past him with the new bunch of flowers in your hand ready to get them in another vase before they began to wilt.

“Do you want something to drink? Tea or anything?” You called out, tearing off the brown wrapping and tossing it into the rubbish before reaching for a glass jar to store them in for the meantime.

Steve didn’t miss a beat, crossing the short distance between the kitchen and the hallway watching you place the roses upon the kitchen window sill hoping they’d catch some much needed sunlight in the morning.

You turned on your heel, reaching for the fridge and opening it to retrieve the pitcher full of cold water.

“Just some water.” He said, grabbing clean glasses from the dishrack and held them out for you as you poured.

Steve waited until you closed the fridge before pushing out your glass first, letting you get your sip before him. To you it felt like a nice flow with him here, like a harmony of domesticity that you didn’t know you had been missing out on.

You leaned against the counter, watching him gulp the remainder of his water as you spoke, “Should I shower first, then you second? I think I might have a pair of sweats that could fit you, but I don’t think I’ll have a top or anything like that.”

He swallowed and nodded, “That’s fine, just some pants will be good enough. You don’t mind if I use the phone to call Robs? Just wanna let her know that I’m staying the night before she spam calls my house.”

You laughed, pointing towards the living room where the rotary phone sat on a small table near the couch, “She must be worried sick, so you better call soon. I’m gonna go shower really quick. And I swear I won’t use all the hot water!”

“No, please, don’t stop your hot water hogging in my presence.” He called out as you laughed out loud on your way to your bedroom to fetch a clean pair of pajamas for the night.

He heard the bathroom door shut and the water from the shower start up. Reaching back into the fridge, he poured himself another half cup of water, and finished it quickly before grabbing both his and your cup and heading towards the sink. After giving them a brief wash and setting them upside down on the rack to air dry, he plopped onto the couch, picking up the phone and dialing the numbers he knew by heart.

One, two, two-and-a-half rings, then the line picked up.

“I am so sorry we didn’t make it tonight! I swear, I was telling Eddie to drive faster, but then the stupid city troopers just started blaring their sirens and stepping out onto the road and before you know it, the road was closed, which is why—”

Maybe he had gotten accustomed to Robin’s rants, but he was almost about to let her finish before he had realized that she thought it was you on the other line and not her.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to suppress his laughter as he cut her off, “Robin, jeez, slow down, it’s just—”

“Steve!” she exclaimed, nearly damaging his eardrums, “Why does it say you’re calling from Roane County?”

“Because I’m in Roane, dingus. I’m spending the night at her apartment. Traffic is still way too backed up for me to make it back to Hawkins tonight.”

There was a sharp gasp that came from her, followed by a hand hitting something, or actually someone who was sitting beside her, and shrieked out a “What!” in response.

Not that Robin was a great liar or anything, but Steve just knew she was doing a bad job at trying to hide the fact that Nancy, Max, and El were also in her bedroom, as he couldn’t mistake their familiar voices and gasps — especially Robin’s not so quiet whisper.

“Steve is spending the night with her at the apartment! Holy shit, he finally made his move!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose again, stretching the phone away from his ear as the sounds of girly screams and giggles came loudly from the other side. Rustling followed, which sounded like the phone dropped before it was picked up, and Robin’s voice echoed again.

“Steve? Steve, hello, are you still there?!”

“If I say yes, will you guys stop screaming like six-year-olds?” He asked with a heavy sigh, followed by a grunt by Robin.

Steve swore he could see the rolling over her eyes, just by the sarcastic scoff she offered him, “Don’t be ridiculous Steve, we’re more like ten-year-olds. Still in our youth, yet on the brink of teenage dirtbag status.”

“You have to stop hanging out with Eddie, I swear—you know what, whatever. I’m staying at her place as a friend. Did you get that? Friend.”

Again, there was that knowing sarcastic scoff that she responded with that would be followed with her classic banter.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Stevie. Just make sure you wear a rubber if you and her plan to “spend the night” as more than friends! I don’t need my friend knocked up with baby Harrington before her and I got the chance to go bar hopping.”

“Can we come too?” He could hear the two eager voices of El and Max in the background.

“No.”

Max jumped in, leaning in closer to the receiver, “To which one exactly? You and her sleeping together or us going to the bar?”

Steve hissed, shutting his eyes tightly “Robin, take me off a speaker! And that’s a no to both, by the way!”

There was laughter erupting from the other side again, before he heard a click and Robin’s voice came in a lot clearer as she pressed the phone to her ear, cutting Steve off from the rest of the gals.

“I’m just poking some fun at you, dingus. Your sex lives are none of my business, but I’m just trying to preach safety. How was the gallery by the way?”

He took a deep breath of relief, finally escaping to what he hoped would be a normal conversation with the uncomfortable comments towards him and his sex life that really was zero to none.

“Great. I actually bought something off of her, plan to hang it on my wall right next to the car poster above my desk.” He answered.

“Honestly, if I were you, just ditch that lame car poster and buy the rest of her art and flood your walls with it.” She half joked.

“No, that would be creepy — like a stalker level creepy or something. I don’t want her to think I’m creepy.”

Robin snorted. “The fact that you even considered it shows me how badly you actually want to get rid of that car poster.”

“Whatever…gonna throw it out next weekend or something.” He sighed, realizing that he had grown out of the lame car poster since he was sixteen.

“Or we could donate it to the Salvation Army? Maybe some pretentious twelve-year-old will think it’s another man’s treasure.” Robin suggested half jokingly.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Anyway, after the gallery we went for dinner at her favorite diner—”

She gasped as if she knew exactly what he was talking about, “The one with the French toast smothered in strawberries?!”

He chuckled, nodding his head to himself. “Yeah, that one. She got hers with strawberries and I got blueberries.”

“Do you have something against strawberries?” She accused suspiciously.

“I thought I told you they’re too tart for my tastebuds — now can I tell you about the rest of the night?”

“Please do.” She responded, dropping the whole spiel about fruit and forgetting why she asked in the first place.

“Before we got our food, we talked, then we danced, then we ate and then we ended up here. She’s in the shower right now.” He looked down the hallway still hearing the shower going in the bathroom.

“Danced? Since when did you like dancing and may I ask what song?”

He pshed, rolling his eyes but he knew she could feel it, “I always liked dancing just not with you because you always step on my feet, and it was Great Balls of Fire.”

“Dude, I stepped on your foot like twice and it was actually your fault because you got the routine wrong! And I thought you said you hated that song?”

“Well, I don’t hate the song… at least not anymore.”

There was a gag on the other side of the line, making him chuckle before she spoke, “You’re so in love it makes me physically sick.”

His eyes widened, turning his voice down to a whisper, “Don’t say that! I’m not in love, I’m just…just, shit, I’m just—”

“Just really whipped by her, trust me we alllll know, but hey, if you want to play the long excruciating game before you finally see it through, then by all means go ahead, but the day you two finally stop dancing around these feelings will be the best day in my—”

“Steve, do you think these will do?” Your voice came barreling into the living room and his hand clasped over the receiver of the phone, cutting your voice off from Robin's side.

Your hair was wrapped up in a towel and you were dressed in some baggy sleep shorts and a tank top to match. You held a pair of gray sweats in your hands, along with a dark blue towel folded right beneath it.

Steve removed his hand from the phone, “Uh shoot, Robin, hold on,” he then placed the phone down, standing up and taking the pants from you.

He unfolded it, checking it out before nodding, “Yeah, these are fine. Thanks.”

You clapped your hand together cheerfully, “Okay, great! Sorry, I threw out all of my ex’s old stuff that he left, but you probably wouldn’t want to wear anything that douche owned, anyway.”

He nodded and watched as you gestured back to the bathroom.

“I left a new toothbrush in the bathroom by the way. And you can use my shampoo and body wash, I don’t mind! But you’ll probably smell like a florist by the time you get out, so just beware.”

Steve grinned, shrugging his shoulders, “Nothing I’d rather smell like — oh! Robin’s still on the phone by the way.” He looked down at the device, slight static that could be heard as you nodded.

“Can I talk to her for a bit?” You asked, walking over to take his spot on the couch.

He nodded and tucked the items under his arm as he began walking backwards towards the bathroom, “Tell her I said goodnight.”

“Will do.” You saluted, taking his previous spot on the couch as he spun around and headed into the bathroom.

“Robs?” You picked up the phone, bringing it to your ear.

“My favorite person in the entire world, hi! Sorry the rest of us couldn’t make it tonight. It was a whole thing with half the kids running late, Eddie not driving fast enough, then the road closed. Total chaos, but we’ll make it to the next one for sure!”

Her voice bursted with energy, excitement, and sincerity despite the late hour of the night, but you wouldn’t expect anything less from her. For some reason, she was always energized and ready to go, something you secretly wished you had too.

You giggled, shaking your head with a fond smile on your face, “Don’t even worry about it, I totally understand! And if it makes you guys feel better, it means a lot that you guys even remembered to come in the first place… it means a lot — more than you’ll ever know.”

“Stop! Don’t get all sappy on me because I don’t know if I’ll be able to take it without crying!” Robin warned with a sense of warmth laced in her comical tone.

You giggled again, playing off her teasing, “No, don’t you dare cry! You can’t cry when I’m not there to hug you and make it all better.”

She sighed dramatically, “Fine! I’m saving my tears for when you’re here to hold me and bless me with a homemade dessert.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way. I really missed you guys tonight.” You confessed, resting your head back on the couch as you could hear her apologetic sigh on the other side.

“We did too, but Steve told me you guys went out for dinner and he even danced with you?”

You hummed contentedly, “Yeah, he asked me to dance and it was great… the food and the dancing, duh.”

“Did he step on your toes?” She couldn’t resist taunting, knowing Steve wasn’t the best at footwork and probably skimped out on the deets of how he definitely stepped on your toes.

You laughed heartily and shook your head despite her not being able to see you, “God no, but I’m pretty sure I kinda scuffed up his Nikes.”

“He’s got a few more pairs at home. He’ll live.” She quipped, making the both of you laugh before she continued.

“Sooo did anything happen? Yenno besides dancing? Kissing perhaps?” Her voice was low and teasing, probing for more juicy details of the night.

Your eyes widened, feeling a slight blush creeping on your cheeks not wanting for Steve to stumble out on a conversation like this.

You cupped your hand over the receiver, eyes glued to the hallway to make sure he wasn’t going to come out of the bathroom anytime soon as you whispered.

“Jesus, no! W-we just dance and… sorta held hands while doing so but—”

Robin cheerfully interjected, happy that things were finally getting a move on with you and Steve, “Progress. We love to see it!”

“I thought we agreed on friends—” You started, before she quickly cut you off again and dismissed the thought of you and Steve just being friends.

“Yeah, whatever, be delusional and blind if you want. Just don’t act so surprised when the day finally comes when you both wake up and get together already.”

“You know, you’re so lucky that I love you.” You sighed half heartedly, half thankful and half terrified of her friendly meddling.

She gasped dramatically, holding a hand over her heart, “We’re already in the “I love you” stage? This is the fastest I’ve moved with a girl who isn’t even my girlfriend.”

“Well, consider me the first to say it after a few weeks, because it’s true. I love you… and all of your delusions.” You declared proudly, truly feeling that Robin was your platonic soulmate that you had been searching for since forever.

“I’m honored and I love you too! Speaking of “I love you’s”, do you love me enough to let me and the gal pals take a visit to Roane tomorrow?”

You thought for a minute, shrugging to yourself as you didn’t have much going on and it would be nice to have a girl’s day. After all, Max and El had been talking about wanting to explore Roane, and Nancy and Robs just wanted more quality time with you.

“Yeah, that’s fine, but I don’t have anything baked or prepared, but I can probably whip somethi—”

“Nancy and I got it covered! Just be up and ready. Let’s saaaayy around ten?” She assured you, clearly excited and ready for the visit.

“Okay, sounds like a plan, but I should probably go now. I still have to set up Steve’s bed for tonight, which is the couch—” you explained, ready to say your goodnights to her before being cut off again.

“You could always let him sleep in your bed?” she teased, earning a chuckle and eye roll from you.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m hanging up! Goodnight and I love you again.”

There were kissy sounds on her end, making you giggle before she spoke,“Night Night! Don’t forget protection and I’ll see you tomorrow…Oh! and tell Steve I said don’t let the bedbugs bite!”

“Night, Robs!” You said one last time before ending the call and looking forward to actually seeing her in person tomorrow along with the other gals.

Heading towards the small storage closet that housed plenty of household items, you grabbed a few things Steve would need for the night. An extra throw pillow and two blankets, a thicker one to keep him warm, and a thinner one to layer over the top if it got colder during the night.

You removed the decorative pillows that took up space on the already cramped couch, hoping it would magically make the space bigger to fit him. You fluffed up the throw pillow to the best of your ability, not wanting him to catch a cramp in his neck from the uncomfortable sleeping position. Not bothering too much with the blankets, you left them folded on the end of the couch, letting him decide how he wanted his makeshift bed to be for the night.

Still, even with the useless pillows thrown to the floor, the couch itself still looked too small for Steve. He was taller than you and the couch just barely housed your body when you laid straight on it. Though most times you would have to curl yourself into a ball to not feel so cramped.

Now you were really regretting just getting the damn couch for the looks rather than the spaciousness, but you had no idea years ago that a nearly 6 foot guy would be staying over the night. You were debating on just convincing Steve to take your room, knowing he’d have a much better night’s rest on your bed, so much so that you hadn’t realized that the bathroom door had creaked open.

“Why are you looking at your couch like that?” Steve’s amused voice broke through your anxious thoughts.

Turning your head over your shoulder, you were met with the sigh of Steve Harrington clad in only the gray sweatpants you had lent him. The top half of his body was exposed to your eyes and the four walls of the apartment that would most definitely never forget the sight.

“Umm, I uh, sorry… what did you say?” You stammered, feeling your cheeks turn red with embarrassment.

You were sure you looked like a tomato, eyes tightly shutting and trying to erase the image of him shirtless so you could stop acting like such a schoolgirl, however the freckles that sat across his skin were engrained in your mind — never could be wiped out.

He chuckled, arms instinctively wrapping across his chest to conceal bits of him, as if that would make it less awkward than it already was.

“It’s cute…” he remarked casually, brushing over your original question.

You opened your eyes slowly, a confused look plastered on your face because while you were totally distracted by his body, you knew for a fact he didn’t say anything about something being cute.

“Huh?”

He shrugged his shoulders, jutting his chin in the air towards you, “When you get all blushly.”

You gulped, running your hand over your neck and collarbones, feeling the heat radiating off your body.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, but you were kinda just standing right there and I didn’t expect to see you looking like that.” You paused, watching his brow raise jokingly before you backtracked and stumbled upon more word salad.

“Wait no, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean like that, in a bad way, but I meant like that in a ‘holy crap, I didn’t know Steve had so many moles and freckles’ kinda way.”

Steve smiled, biting back for it to cover his entire face, knowing it would make you even more blushier and though he found it endearing he didn’t want to tease you for it.

“They are kinda everywhere, huh?” He settled, looking down at his arms and inspecting the beauty marks that covered the expanse of it.

You nodded, resisting the urge to count how many he had alone on his left shoulder alone, and the hair that sprawled over his chest, “Y-yeah, everywhere.”

Steve didn’t let a second of silence go to waste, referring back to the original question he had asked you.

“I asked you why you were looking at the couch that way.”

Turning your head back at it, you gestured towards the length of the couch, sighing heavily before letting out a weak laugh.

“There’s no way this is going to be comfortable for you, Steve. You’re like a tall giant and when I nap on here, I curl myself up like a worm in order to fit on it.”

He tsked, giving you a shake of his head before going around you and plopping stomach down onto the couch. Steve tries his best to look comfortable, though you can’t mistake the way he’s bending his knees and squeezing his shoulders in to fit on the piece of furniture.

You giggled, settling on the floor and crossing your legs as you sat within eyesight of him. Your hand moved up to your head, removing the towel from your hair as you squeezed the fabric between your ends to soak up the remaining water as he watched.

“Steve, just take my bed tonight, please?”

He closes his eyes, humming out a “Nuh uh.”

“You’re going to wake up with horrible back pain tomorrow.” You warned voice lifting to something that was almost chiding.

Yet he remained rigid, peeking his eyes open and shaking his head against the cushions, “I’m not taking your bed and if it makes you feel better I’ve slept on worse. Mike Wheeler’s dusty basement carpet, for example.”

You scrunched your face up in disgust, nose instantly sniffling at the thought as Steve chuckled and maneuvered his palm under his chin to watch you.

“I’d probably have a sneezing fit.” You mumbled under your breath.

He nodded, “I practically sneezed myself to sleep that night, but hey, it was better than being home with my parents there.”

You grimaced, bunching your damp towel in your lap as you played with the fabric, wondering if you could ask him a question about his personal life. Sure, you had shared things with him, but you never wanted him to feel like he owed you part of his life just because you did.

Still you asked with caution and softness, “Sorry, if this is crossing a line, but… do you know when your parents get back in town or do they just show up unannounced?”

He gave you a reassuring smile, swiping away the hesitance on your face that was scared you were going too far. And while Steve had told you a bit about his tumultuous relationship with his parents, you weren’t quite sure if he would be open to talking about it more – his perspective and everything.

Usually he wasn’t, but with you he felt like he could.

“Usually I can guess when they’re leaving and coming home. My dad has a lot of business trips and conferences during the summer. They host them at fancy hotels and resorts and my mom likes mingling with the other wives that go.”

He explained and you nod, bringing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on the caps as you continue to listen.

“Yeah, so, in the summer they’re gone for like a week, then they come home for a few days. But during the day my dad is at the office and my mom hangs out with her lady friends so I can usually avoid them, but it’s harder to do at night… y’know ‘cause where else is my mom and dad going to sleep right?”

He laughed uncomfortably, trying to make a joke out of it, which you totally understood because of the stipulations of him living under his parents’ roof and all, but still you knew that his home didn’t feel like home to him — at least not when his parents were there.

“And that’s why you prefer sleeping in Mike’s prehistoric basement, to avoid seeing them.” You speculated, but more so landed on the dot with.

He nodded, a tightlipped smile at how easily you saw through it and how you probably understood why he jumped at the offer at staying at your place tonight rather than going home and having to deal with running into his mom and dad.

Steve felt like, for the first time, he could go on and on about him, not terrified of making his family sound horrible, knowing it was embarrassing enough, but with you he knew you came with no judgment.

“I know it sounds crazy. Like why I can’t just suck it up and face them, but it’s so weird and dehumanizing. I can just tell that they’re judging me. I’m the only son they have and here I am still selling tapes at Family Video while my dad manages his own firm–”

“But you’re happy, right?” You didn’t mean to cut him off so suddenly, but you knew that this was the most important question of them all.

He furrowed his brows, staring at you confused before spitting out an answer, “Happy? I mean…it’s kinda difficult always trying to evade my parents, but it does kinda feel like I’m a secret agent sneaking into a Russian base trying to get my uniform at seven in the—”

You couldn’t help but interject again with a giggle, “I meant happy working at Family Video. You’re happy there, right?”

His smile grew wider despite misinterpreting your question for the second time around, but still you didn’t grow irate with him, just patient and more than happy to ask again and that alone made him feel no judgment and embarrassment alone.

“Oh! Well yeah, I guess at first it was a little boring, but after Robin and I started to get the groove of it, now it just feels like we’re hanging out and doing chores to pass time. And we get to watch movies and eat in the backroom snack bar.”

You smiled, lifting your shoulders up and letting them relax back down, happy with the sight of Steve in front of you. Sure, you knew that his parents were really hard on him, but he was the person who had to face it every day. Yet seeing him talk about how happy he was working with his best friend, that made up for a piece of the sadness that you could still tell was gnawing at him.

You weren’t sure if you could solve it, and you were sure that you couldn’t, but you could at least make it better for him.

“So who cares what your parents think? You’re happy and it’s working out for you, so what’s the big deal? Is daddy mad that his son doesn’t want to carry on his business legacy?”

Steve laughed, a genuine laugh that he half stifled into the pillow before settling his cheek on it and shaking his head with a smug smirk.

“Oh, he’d jump for joy the day I put on a suit and walk out the house with a briefcase up my ass.”

There was laughter in the air again, a sort of connection that was made purely off of the both of you opening up about something so deep and personal. In the diner it was him comforting you and here in your living room it was you being there for him in a way that no one else could.

It’s not that he didn’t want to open up to Robin or the rest of his friends about it, and truth be told they already knew. They knew that Steve had a rocky relationship with his parents, and Steve never hid it, but he did stray away from talking about it because why would he need to in the first place?

After all he had friends, true friends that cared about him the way that he wished his parents did, and he cared about them the way he always wanted to be appreciated for. Not tolerated just because his mom and dad were purely his blood, but celebrated because he found people who loved him in a way he didn’t think was possible.

But enough was enough for Steve. There was only so much he could hold in and after years of suppressing it and trying to act like it didn’t phase him the way it did when he was a teenager, it was now time to confront it and let it pass here…with you.

You settled from your laughter, slowly watching as Steve did the same, wrapping his arms over the pillow and propping his head up slightly supporting his chin.

You purse your lips, your fingers drawing circles on your knee as you spoke to him, “I know what it’s like. Unsupportive people and whatever, but you gotta just stick to it and they’ll back off eventually…or you can leave. Start a new chapter without them.”

He seemed to ponder your words for a second before replying, “Is that what you did?”

With a knowing smile, you shrugged, “Yeah, I guess you could call packing up and leaving without telling anyone would count.”

“That sounds like the dream.” He sighed, closing his eyes at the thought of packing up and running away to start his life without his parents in his.

You could tell he was thinking of it, dreaming up the thought of a life where he could live it the way he pleased without trying to please his mom and dad. You used to do the same thing, waiting for the day to finally get the courage to live your life and dreams unapologetically, without the weight of your ex that would only make you feel less than.

Instinctively, your hand reached out and softly tapped on his hand, prompting him to open his eyes and stare at yours resting upon his before meeting your eyes.

“It’s really nice, and hey, if you ever need a place to stay, you’re always welcomed here. I just can’t promise a comfier couch next time, but I can assure you I vacuum and mop the floors weekly.” You offered graciously.

“Thanks, that’s really nice of you.” Steve replied, the gratitude and sincerity evident in his voice.

Your thumb moved over his knuckles warmly, feeling the pulse point of his vein before retracting, “Of course, and thanks for today. Showing up and giving me a ride. It really means a lot.”

Part of Steve wished you kept your hand there, knowing it was the thing that was keeping him grounded here with you, like a promise that you would keep forever. Instead, he settled for a smile, maneuvering his body and sitting upright to see you clearly.

“Yeah, no problem. I had a blast, and I’d love to come to the next one, whenever that might be. I’ll make sure everyone is on time this time around.”

You grinned, standing up and throwing your damp towel over your shoulder, “I’ll let you turn in for the night, and please, don’t hesitate to wake me up before you leave.”

“And ruin your beauty sleep?” He joked, standing up and holding his arms out towards you.

You giggled, shaking your head as you walked into the frame nuzzling your face into his warm chest and feeling his warmth envelope you. His bareness left little imagination to your sense of feeling, but just as you suspected, his skin was soft and the fuzz on his chest tickled your neck in a comforting way that you didn’t want to shake off.

Taking a deep breath of him in, and feeling his arms tighten around you, you whispered loud enough for him to hear, “Nighty night, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweet thing.” He replied in a soft murmur, his fingers leaving indents in the small of your back where he hugged you tightly before releasing and letting you go.

You had to find it in you, to finally pull away, giving him one around smile before you turned on your heel and headed towards your bedroom. The slight ruffling of the blankets and his body moving against the cushions as background noise on your short walk to the door before you took one last glance back and saw him smile at you, fingers ready to pull on the lampshade to turn the place dim.

Your fingers twiddled at him, before you finally shut your door, and only then did you hear the click of the lamp, darkening the rest of the apartment as you threw your towel into the hamper.

Slipping beneath your covers and turning to tuck your face into your pillow is where you finally let out a squeal – one that you had been holding back for the entire night.

Steve had made you feel things, maybe things not so foreign because after all crushes were a normal part of life, but he made you feel a kind of way where the light bulb in your head lit up and stayed on when you were around him. Almost like a constant realization that he was always so good – good to you and good to everyone else in his life.

He never wanted or asked you to change, but just wanted you to see things through in a way that would benefit you for the better. You never knew what this was like, accustomed to feeling like you had to shapeshift into being something that was pleasing for men, yet here you were not being asked for that by Steve. Just being asked to be nicer to yourself, because he knew you were worthy and capable of it.

Something in you was holding on to each and every single one of his words, hoping that he meant it in a way that was more. More than friends. More than everything that you believed you two were just destined to be.

A sweet thing. Something so sweet that only you wanted with him, yet didn’t know if you could have. A kind of sweetness that could only be dreamt up in your wildest dreams.

And so dream you did, of the sweet things you and Steve could be in another world.

A word where you and him would switch off weekends at each other’s homes.

A world where you would stop in at Family Video just because you missed him.

A world where you could pick up the phone and hear his voice on the other line because he wanted to see what you were doing.

A world where you two would take turns washing dishes and drying.

A world where you could sit in your living room or a half empty diner and just talk without being afraid.

A world where it was just you two against whatever obstacle that you both were facing.

A sweet, sweet, sweet world where it was you and Steve, hand in hand, chest to chest, lips to—

“Wakey wakey, gorgeous! You forgot to set your alarm, didn't you?”

Your eyes snapped out, instantly letting out a shout as you saw Robin hover above you with your alarm clock in her hands. She flinched, stepping back and giving you room to breathe as you sat up and caught your breath.

“Robin, what the hell! How did you even get in here…and what time is it?” You gathered your comforter closer to your chest, closing your eyes and sighing, not believing this was real.

She shrugged her shoulders, placing your alarm clock back on the bedside table before plopping back first at the end of your bed and turned her head towards you.

“Max apparently has a talent for picking locks, and it’s almost a quarter to ten. We were going to just wait outside until you woke up, but I almost had a heatstroke out there so breaking and entering it was.”

Despite the suddenness of it all, you couldn’t help but close your eyes and let out a laugh as you fell back into your pillows. You definitely forgot to set your alarm last night and the last thing you wanted was your friends who drove all the way here to be waiting outside in the hot Indiana heat.

You felt Robin crawl up the space and settle beside you, her hands resting on the pillow where she laid her head as she smiled at you cheekily, “Not mad are you?”

You shook your head and bopped her nose before she crinkled it, “Nope! But you do owe me by making my bed.”

She groaned, stuffing her face in the pillows as you got up and stretched your arms out wide feeling the tension release in your limbs as you walked out of your room and headed to the living room to greet everyone else while Robin’s groans died down.

Max and El, sat on your couch flipping through comics. The blankets that Steve had used the night before neatly folded and placed on the arm of the furniture. Meanwhile, Nancy moved across the kitchen table setting out plates and utensils keeping to herself and knowing where everything was it seemed.

“Morning, pretty ladies.” You greeted, watched their eyes fall on your less than sleepy and surprised state.

El popped up from the couch first, easily clinging to your side with a hug, “Good morning! Sorry we had to break in, but Robin was dehydrated.”

You grinned, draping your arms around her and hugging her warmly before she pulled away, “We can’t have our dear Robin dying of dehydration can we?”

“Definitely not, especially not before she gets the inside scoop on you and Steve’s date last night.” Max chimed in, giving you a side hug as you rolled your eyes playfully and pushed her shoulder gently.

“It was not a date!” You retorted making your way to the kitchen to greet Nance who was smiling to herself as she still set the table.

You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, bringing her to a stop as she threw her head back and hugged you tightly, “Sorry about breaking and entering… but Robin and I brought some breakfast so I hope it helps!”

You looked over her shoulder, seeing the take out boxes of pancakes, link sausages, toast, and other goodies that they had picked up from a place in Hawkins.

“This totally makes up for it, and I’ll just give you guys a copy of my key. That way, no more breaking and entering and then you guys can bring me breakfast forever!”

“Sounds like a better idea than picking the lock every time,” she quipped pulling away from the hug, “do you have any orange juice, by chance?”

“Yeah, I’ll grab it, no worries,” You said heading towards the fridge and going to open it, before you noticed the bright yellow post-it that stuck to the appliance.

Messy and rushed handwriting filled the small square and your fingers ripped it off, reading it to yourself…

Thanks again for letting me spend the night, it means a lot! Didn’t want to leave before you got up, but I promised Eddie I’d help him and his uncle Wayne with something at their trailer.

Anyway, I hope you don’t mind that I started the washer with the pair of sweats you lent me and I left the top that you forgot at my place folded on the dryer. I also woke up early and got a honey rose latte, and you were right, it tastes heavenly. I asked them to make yours with almond milk and no ice, and I left it on the second shelf in the fridge. Managed to snag a dozen of those cronuts and I left them in the microwave to keep them warm. Hope you don’t mind that I took the blueberry one.

Enjoy, and I hope we see each other soon, sweetheart.

- Steve <3

There was a wide smile on your face, stupidly reading his words over and over again and hyper-fixating on him remembering your milk of choice and the tiny crooked heart drawn next to his name.

Steve Harrington didn't seem real at all, someone that you could only think up to be that perfect and attentive to small details. And no guy would ever go as far as this for you, but there you were opening the fridge to see your favorite latte sitting on the second shelf of your fridge and when you turned to look at the microwave, you could see through the transparent glass, the bakery box that held the delectable treats in.

You probably looked just as silly, frozen in your kitchen staring at a piece of paper and smiling to yourself like a maniac. It was only a few more seconds until Robin came sliding in next to you, creeping over your shoulder.

“Oooo, did the lover boy leave a note!” Robin wiggled her brows, attempting to peek at the note before you quickly clutched it to your chest for safe keeping.

You blushed, and turned on your heel, grabbing the orange juice and your drink and placing it on the table, “That is a secret that will not be revealed!”

“He did!” The younger girls shouted from the couch as you blushed and shook your head

“I’m going to go brush my teeth and then I’ll be out!” You called out, walking back to your room with the note still in the palm of your hand.

“Then you’re going to spill the date details!” Robin shouted, pouring orange juice into the glasses.

You could hear Nancy jokingly scolding Robin, “Give her a break, will you?”

Quickly, you slipped into your quaint laundry room on the other side of the hallway where the slight rumbling from the washing machine was beginning to slow down. There was your white eyelet top that you had worn and left behind the first time at Steve’s place sitting folded on the washer with another note placed on the top of it.

Forgot to give this to you the last time I was here. I read the label and the machine washed it in cold water then put it in the dryer on low. Hope I didn’t ruin it or anything!

- Steve :)

You picked up the garment, assessing it and seeing that the stain was fully gone and instead it was perfectly clean and now reeking of everything, Steve. The sandalwood, mint, freshness, and warmth — everything him. The scent filling your senses and going back to the hug you two shared last night, wishing it were his arms wrapped around you again.

Now you definitely knew what you were going to be wearing today and who was going to be running through your mind — even if this was your town and your place, he had already left a mark too big and permanent for you to erase.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: chapter two is finally here!!! originally this chapter was supposed to be longer but for organization and trying to avoid lag purposes, i decided to shorten it a bit and save the next major scene for the next chapter! again, i have to say a big big big thank you to my bestie and ultimate favorite person everrrrr...MISS EFFIE!!! she's amazing and she is constantly encouraging me to write and helping me with proofreading and setting up the storylines itself! i love her so so so much (I LOVE YOU EFFIE BABYYYYY)!!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss

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