#anyways enjoy ily

[yuzurins]

# reluctant to love

desc: in which rin writes a long essay proclaiming his long suppressed love for you

warnings: not proofread… lots of rambling, maybe ooc, itoshi brothers are not estranged, minuscule amount of angst but majority is fluff, some curse words here and there, rin is still at blue lock btw!

rbs and interactions are appreciated !!

————————————————————————

‘dear y/n,

i am writing this letter to inform you that i have taken a liking to you for a while now and would like to—‘

————————————————————————

rin grumbles to himself as he scribbles out the complete trash of a confession that he had just wrote.

he doesn’t even know why he decided to take this approach at all. it all started because isagi and bachira told him that, “he was beating around the bush,” and “he’d probably win the world cup before being able to utter a word in front of them.”

so of course, rin said some very harsh words in response, leading to isagi challenging him to confess to you before the next match (that was in 72 hours) with his football career on the line.

which is how he found himself sitting at his desk after practice, spinning his pencil around trying to write a stupid love letter for his best friend.

because in the words of bachira, “everyone loves poetic men!”

despite immediately denying the words of his friends, deep down he knew damn well that they were completely right. if he wasn’t forced to, he would probably quit football before ever speaking about his feelings out loud.

but because the itoshi rin can’t risk his ego and pride, he’s reluctantly willing to write a silly letter.

turns out writing that silly letter was harder than any football game he’s ever played.

————————————————————————

‘dear y/n,

i remember the first time we met.

it was first day of junior high, and you were sitting on a bench in front of the school with red puffy eyes, fiddling with the little kumamon plush on your bag.

i was late to class that morning, and after seeing you i purposely tried to walk faster in order to avoid any human interaction. but you saw me and grabbed onto my blazer, refusing to let go even though i didn’t spare you a glace. you asked for help getting to your classroom, and because i didn’t know what i was getting myself into, i lead you there (like the kind person i am) expecting to never see you again.

but i guess the world had other plans, because it turned out we were in the same class. you stuck to me like a parasite, annoying me every chance you got and never shutting the fuck up. but i enjoyed the company, though younger me would never admit that.

fast forward a few years and nothings changed. or has it? you’re still yapping your mouth off all the time and clinging beside me in every class. except something’s different, and i don’t know what it is. you laze around at my house after begging me for homework help, we occasionally go get food, sometimes fall asleep together and— [this part is illegible because rin drew over it too hard]

i don’t know. i think around this time i started distancing myself from you because i always felt uneasy around you. my heart was always beating rapidly, my stomach felt uneasy, and i just felt anxious. all the time. nii-chan told me it was because of you, so i just stopped talking to you. i’m sorry.

i’m sorry i didn’t tell you i was leaving. that i’d be gone for a while because i got scouted by blue lock. i didn’t mean to because i thought i’d be okay before i left. sorry i’m rambling now. i know i don’t speak a lot in person so i’m writing my thoughts down for you to understand me better.

i was a kid in denial, and sometimes i still am because even now i don’t understand that part of myself. to be honest, i would’ve never confessed these feelings of mine if my friend didn’t push me to. it sounds like a dick move but i swear on my career that everything i’ve written on this stupid paper is genuine and sincere.

and what i am certain of is that i want you to be by my side. i want you to be there cheering for me when i win a game, i want you to be there beside me when i wake up, i want you to spend your afternoons lazing around me, i want you to tell me all about the small unnecessary details of your day,

i just want you

because you make me feel safe

————————————————————————

rin’s biting his lower lip now, feeling super embarrassed about how vulnerable he just let himself be on a piece of paper. he doesn’t read over it at all and shoves it into the envelope immediately. doesn’t even check whether he wrote your address right or not because he’ll chicken out if he looks it over at all.

he’s super anxious about this letter, to the point where he’s fucking up his plays, so imagine his surprise when he sees you sitting on his porch the day he finally gets to go home.

you jump up immediately at the sight of him and run to hug him. rin stiffens at the sudden impact but drops his bags a second later to sink into your embrace.

though as if that wasn’t enough of an answer for him, he’s still uncertain about your feelings. you hear the rapid beating of his heart and look up to give him a lovesick grin.

“i love you too, itoshi rin.”

BONUS: 2YRS LATER.

“i can’t believe you forgot to sign off a letter confessing that you’re head over heels for me.” you giggle as you walk over to your boyfriend, who was staring at his letter that you pinned to your pegboard. “what if i ended up responding to the wrong person?”

rin huffs and turns away, embarrassed that you caught him reading that. “shut up, you have no other friends anyways.”

you smile teasingly at him as you notice his ears turning red. “you never thought about the possibility that someone could’ve liked me during the 10 months you ignored me for?”

he frowns, though you can’t see him, and droops his shoulders down. you know he still feels bad about it, but it’s fun to tease him because in your eyes he looks so adorable, like a big puppy.

and as he still stares at the floor, he turns around and walks over to envelop you in his warmth, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

an endearing smile finds its way on your face as you hug rin back. he’s not a words person; this was his way of expressing his apology.

“it’s okay, you big baby, as long as you’re here with me now.”

#first time writing for rin!!!! #i think this is very badly written ngl my grammar is everywhere hahahahahahahhaha #it’s kinda cute tho lol i feel like rin is such a loser even tho he’s super fine #anyways enjoy ily #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock drabbles #bllk scenarios #rin x reader #blue lock fluff

[labcoated-lunacy]

eroticism of the machine this, eroticism of the machine that. what about the AROMANTICISM of the machine. what about the electric comfort of looking at a beautiful turbine engine and knowing that it is just like you. what about the urge to cut open your chest to prove your heart is made of wires and your ribs are made of steel. what about that

#but ily eroticism of the machine people I’m glad you are enjoying your machines #anyways. sure ALL aro(/ace) rep shouldn't be robots #but i personally LOVE the trope #my love for robot characters and machinery imagery is intrinsically linked with aromanticism #(asexuality too in my case) #(but ‘aromanticism’ flowed better in the post) #robotposting #machineposting #aromantic

[eveningepiphany]

something about the legs | h.s oneshot

summary: something about your best friends legs really does it for you, especially in skinny jeans…

warnings: besties with unexpected and very impulsive benefits, oral sex (mrec), lots and lots of talk about those mfing legs and thighs, dirty talk, h not expecting you to be like that until you are.

a/n: so it’s been a hot minute… hi again🤪 but something rlly just sent me spiralling with this pic of h’s fucking legs. look at them. anyways, enjoy me being a slut and channeling it into some fine literature, enjoy xoxo

———

Ovulation week is a curse. An absolute, utter curse.

Between the multitude of random fluctuating symptoms and skyrocketing hormones, you feel dreaded enough as it is. But the worst part, is every fucking month you become absolutely manic with need.

Some are increasingly better or worse than others, but this month is something off the charts.

There is no warrant for you to be this fucking horny at 9:32pm on a Thursday night. Yet here you are, squirming because you’re around someone that already riles you up enough as it is.

Harry is your best friend. Has been for years. Since the awkward starting phases of middle school. All braces paired with horrendous fashion choices. And into the ages of highschool throughout all the drama and predictable thematics. Into the present, where life throws you curveballs as you enter the world as young adults, and now that he’s in one direction. You can’t imagine going through all that with anyone else.

Actually, maybe it’s fit to mention you’re almost certain that this man never went through an awkward phase… despite the fact possibly everyone else on the planet did. Harry did not.

He was cute from the day he was born, it’s evident in the pictures, up until he hit puberty, then he became some ungodly mix of both cute and ridiculously hot.

It’s disgusting that someone can do both things at the same time. And also revolting that they can have no idea at all.

But tonight, he is all hot. Between the way he’s dressed, the way he’s walking, and the way he’s talking. It’s close to killing you where you’re sat.

Thighs clenched together like there’s a thousand dollar check between them, you sit on a outdoor couch at your family’s holiday house.

It’s just the two of you outside on the large decked patio. It’s a huge house by the lake that your parents and grandparents own, so you invited Harry to come stay for the week. Your family were thrilled you invited him, but have already turned in for an early night. Since they planned to be out on the lake for a day of water activities almost before the damn sun was even fully up.

Harry has a glass of alcohol in his hands— one that is completely dwarfed in his hold. It’s condensation forming small droplets over the ridges of his fingers.

He hasn’t realised the staring you’ve been doing, as he paces the deck talking about something to do with a recent song he’s been writing.

You’re sliding in small hums of agreement at the appropriate times without even hearing what he’s saying. Only the pleasing lilt in his voice that tickles your ears as it enters them.

He’s got those black skinny jeans on, the pair that cling to his hips for dear life. And not only are they fit to his hips, but they hug every single curve on his legs. The thick of his thighs all the way down to the muscle of his calf.

And if anything was the killer for you tonight, it was those.

You’re surprised you’re not drooling on yourself. Which is fucking disgusting, but fact. As there is an over-production of saliva in your mouth right now just looking at his legs.

He is so muscly there. The presumed strength of his thighs makes you actually pant, and you never thought legs did it for you like this. But my god right now, they certainly are.

“But I jus’ dunno Y/N,” he turns to you, causing you to snap your gaze from the curve of his ass which you were shamelessly just staring at, back to his face.

It doesn’t get better for you anywhere you look. The man was built and sculpted by a god. Every feature was painstaking to look at, and not be able to touch.

“What d’ya reckon would sound better?” He asks, nonchalantly, unaware you were just eyeing him up.

You feel some shame now, as you scramble to find an answer for the question you don’t even know the context for.

“Well, i think whatever you feel flows better. Yknow?” You swallow, praying to god it’s diluted enough of an answer that he’ll just take it without question.

He nods, and relief floods through you, “i s’pose you’re right.”

However that relief hardly lasts long, because he’s not as clueless as you’d presumed, “You’re pretty good at giving advice even when you’re only half listening.”

He saunters over from the span of deck he’d been pacing the last 10 minutes, sitting down next to you with a smug look on his face. You feel the cushions dip with his body weight, and you’re so delusioned that even a part of you twinges with desire at the understanding of his weight. The idea of him pressing it down on top of you during—

“What’s on ya mind, love, why are you s’faraway lookin’?” He asks, sipping at his drink with a quirk of his dark eyebrows.

“I—“ Christ. He’s manspreading a bit right now… thighs pushed apart, “I’m just tired. Been a big few days.”

His curly, and boyishly-messy hair is cascading over his forehead and casting a shadow of his green gaze, the same one that’s nailing you where you’re sat right now.

He doesn’t look very convinced. And he’s watching your eyes flicker around, looking guilty of a lie, presumably the words that just came from your mouth.

“You don’t have t’lie, dove.” He laughs, a soft songbird-like chuckle that somewhat eases your tenseness.

You feel so dirty for thinking about him like this. When he can’t tell you it’s okay to be imagining absolutely sinful things you’d do… or let be done when it comes to him. However, you are so hormonal right now, that you don’t have it in yourself to stop.

He was just simply the wrong person, in the wrong place, at coincidentally the right time in your hormonal cycle.

And you feel even worse because there’s years of history behind the two of you. And friends are not meant to think of each other like this, it makes things quickly complicated. And this is not a hallmark film.

“I know.” You sigh out, “it’s not you, H. I’m just… hormonal.”

His first thought was that you were on your period, a look of tender concern flitting across his face.

“Oh, is your period making you feel sick?”

You could laugh at the irony. You are infact neither of the things he thinks. Not bleeding, and not ill.

He has looked after you before when you’ve been in the trenches with your period. He is always so willing to get you anything when you’re not feeling well.

And you can tell by the look on his pretty face he’s about to ask you he can get you anything to help— pain relief, water, snacks or simply a hug.

A gentleman, as always.

But if he asks you if you need anything, you only have one answer and that’s him. You need him, and not in a platonic way. So you interject before he can ask,

“No, quiet the opposite.” You shake your head, pursing your lips.

“But it’s fine,” you amend curtly, “just girl stuff.”

The two of you get consumed by a momentary silence, he was waiting for more information, which you simply were not giving. After a few seconds, he sputters out a sudden laugh.

“You can tell me, if you want, idiot.” He laughs, nudging you with his knee. His very attractive leg being left pressed into yours. “Gross details and personal stuff never usually stop us.”

Your whole body is burning up, overwhelmed. He is so fucking hot, and caring. You want him filling up your goddamn throat.

“No, trust me. This is all left best untold and ignored. I can’t help it, so we’re just ignoring it.” Your tone is certain, and to this he nods. Able to tell that’s as much of an answer he’d be getting for now, so he begrudgingly accepts it.

“Fine, fine, you’re just so stiff. Need t’relax.” He slides his free hand behind your back to pull him into his side.

Tugging you the small distance between you two, your head comes naturally to rest in the crook of his neck. Nose inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne, smelling like the refreshingly cool breeze on a muggy summer night.

His thumb strokes a delicate back and forth rhythm on the bare skin it’s found between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your fitted top.

It’s killing you, because he’s so gentle with you. Such a sweetheart really, but you’re breaking out a sweat at the feeling of his fingertips against your skin. You need a cold shower.

You try not to let your eyes wander down to the legs in those fucking jeans.

“S’long as ya alright,” he murmurs into your hair, “is there anything you need from me? ‘Cause if I can do anything for ya, yknow I would.”

Your stomach drops, how are you even supposed to answer that. Your face heats with even more guilt.

Your internal voice drops in her two cents on the question— your cock, she confidently stated. That was what she wanted.

“No, nothing you can do that’s reasonable, H.” You say, too dangerously close to him dragging the truth out of your needy mouth for your liking.

He tilts his head down to look at the profile of your face, curiously prodding further, “How unreasonable are we talking?”

“Ridiculously and foolishly unreasonable.”

“Why?”

“Sh. Don’t make me tell you, because I don’t want to.” You state defiantly, rolling away from his hold, since now you’re talking about it— although vaguely— it’s just making it worse.

Focusing on it is making the need more intense, your eyes feasting unintentionally on his muscled body relaxing on the couch.

He’s got this smirk on his lips. One you want to kiss off.

“You’re blushing, is it that bad?”

You scoff, “Yes, that bad.”

“Okay… so, it’s not your period, and it’s technically fixable— since you just said it’s unreasonable for me to do it… not impossible.” he’s wondering out loud, watching your every move.

Which now you’ve stood up and started pacing, trying to distract yourself from the pulsing between your legs and the begging voice in your head that wants to touch him so badly.

“Stop being nosey! God!” You frustratedly whine out, and he laughs at your sudden anger at not only him, but at seemingly just being a woman.

“Just trying to help, baby, don’t get mad.” He teases, and between his suddenly mocking mouth, your resolve snaps like a fickle twig.

“Fuck, I’m horny. Harry!” You groan out, covering your eyes over with the palms of your hands so you don’t have to see his likely disgusted face at your confession.

But now that you’ve started you can’t stop, “You just… your fucking legs and thighs are just… I don’t know! I’m ovulating and you’re just really sexy, it’s frustrating and I really want to die right now, H.”

In reality, his brows had just shot up with surprise, lips parting in shock. He could not believe you just admitted that.

He glanced down to his legs. He’s just in jeans, it wasn’t like he felt as though they were anything to write home about.

It shocked him that you even… well obviously the two of you are best friends. But it was rare that topics of sex came up, so all the sudden the conversation being about that and also about you is making his head spin.

Yet something comes over him, he doesn’t think as he speaks his next words, “Tha’s not as unreasonable as you made it out to be.”

You snap your hands down from your face, eyes locking onto his— he doesn’t look repulsed or uncomfortable as you had originally expected. He looks inexplicably open to the topic.

“I’ve got somethin’ you need, somethin’ that can fix it, love.” He states, shrugging his shoulders, his voice going almost sultry, “An’ yknow what I said, hm?”

At your silence— because you’re too stunned to even speak— he finishes the sentence for you, “Said I’d do anything for ya.”

Oh, is this quickly snowballing.

“Harry!” You shake your head, it feeling so wrong to be talking about this with him.

He abandons his drink on the small side table beside the couch, standing up and breaching the distance between you.

“Jus’ say the words, and then im yours.” He lowly whispers, and this is about to make you pass out. You’re clenching around nothing in your underwear, and the proposition is so tempting.

“We shouldn’t though. It’s not your responsibility to… satiate me.” You gulp out, nervous, yet body flaming with heat.

“Y/N, best friends help each other out… tha’s all it has to be, jus’ me making y’feel better.” he says, hand coming to run down your upper arm. And the second you started talking about this, his cock has been twitching where it’s confined his jeans.

“You can make all the decisions, all the calls, m’kay?” The statement was reassuring.

You lean into his touch, caving without anymore of a fight, “Okay… alright. Just… tell me if you change your mind. Please?”

His lips curl into a satisfied smile, feeling his hand get taken by yours. It’s much to risky to be fucking around with your best friend on the families patio, so you lead him down the steps into the dark, open backyard.

They have a pier, that’s lit with small solar lights, and that’s the first place you can that is reasonable enough to go. You tug him along the wooden decking it has, feet drumming against it.

Against a tree was too dark, and you at least want to see his cock if you’re getting the opportunity to touch it.

“On the pier, hey? That desperate.” He teases, and you push him with your free hand into one of its big wooden pillars.

“I want your cock down my throat, how’s that for desperate?” You scoff, pulling a laugh of pure shock from his own lips.

“I’m serious, H.” You look at him, stone cold expression. You are so riled up and ready to touch him that you need immediate confirmation this is something he wants.

“Go on, said you wanted it.”

Before you sink down onto your knees, you question him further, “you want this, though?”

A smile spreads over his mouth, “baby, you’re gonna be able to feel just how much i want this when you get down there. I was bricked the second you said you were horny.”

That was all you needed, dropping to the ground on your knees— now with his consent, your filter completely disappeared.

“Fuck me, Harry. I don’t think you understand how sexy you are.” Hands immediately coming up to squeeze the muscle of his thighs.

He hums a noise as he looks down at you on your knees, “Never thought legs would do it for you, but here we are.”

“Only thing i could think about is digging my nails into your thighs…”

You drag your hands back up to where the buckle of his belt laid, grabbing at it and undoing it. Slipping it out of the loops in his pants in a swift movement.

Leaning forward, you lift the hem of his black shirt, pressing your mouth against his happy trail.

You’re a slut for that little teasing patch of hair that dips below his low jeans. It causes you to whine out, a wordless sound of appreciation as you peck kisses over it.

The button and zipper quickly got undone by your nimble hands, and you finally brush over the prominent bulge that’s perked up in his boxers.

A realisation that you’re about to see your best friends dick for the first time kind of hits you, causing you to roll your lips between your teeth.

His suddenly strained voice comes from above you, “fuck, Y/N, don’t get shy with me. Y’can take me out.”

He’s almost ready to beg, even though this is all technically for you. But he didn’t anticipate how sensitive he would be when it’s a special girls hands running over his bulge.

However that’s exactly how it is, he’s already biting his lip as you cup him through his briefs, head tilted backwards with a sudden shared need.

You draw his jeans further down, “patience, im just enjoying you, pretty boy.”

The doting nickname earns a small groan from his lips, paired with the fact you’re now mouthing at his inner thighs. They’re warm and firm, dusted with dark hairs. You suck the most inner and upper part of his thigh into your mouth, causing him to grunt out.

You busy yourself with that particular part of his skin for a moment, rubbing the backs of your hands around the flesh of his ass. Still unfortunately covered by his briefs.

“So fuckin’ good to me, H.” You muttered into his soft skin, dragging your nose over to kiss the fabric covering his hard cock.

It makes him twitch, “letting me do this… and touch you where I want.”

You sound so out of it, replacing your mouth with your hand momentarily so you can go back to kissing his thighs, teeth impulsively barring over them. He shudders at the sensation.

After a bit more teasing, you finally start to pull the waistband of his black calvins down.

When his cock is fully out, you moan. You straight out moan at the sight of it. It’s glistening tip is a flushed red, beading out a sliver of precum for you, and it was safe to say he’s well equipped.

The two of you curse in sync as you hold him in your hand, feeling the weight as you stroke gently.

“Christ, tha’s good.” He curses out, hips stuttering forward slightly. You take a moment to look up at his face.

His cheeks have gone a slight red, and his lips are shiny from his teeth and tongue constantly running over them. Not to mention the way his lidded eyes are gazing down at you.

You hold eye contact as you lean in to lick over his tip in one solid stroke, watching his face twist in pleasure.

It makes your core drip. Seeing his cock, tasting it, watching him react to your touch. It fuels you to take his tip into your mouth, giving a gentle suck.

Your fingers take refugee digging into his thighs, and you are already loosing you mind with him between your lips. Somehow, you’re almost convinced you could come just from sucking on his dick.

Your self control is completely shattered now, you draw back and spit over his length, listening to him groan out as he watches the action.

“Drool on me, darling.” He says, the gentle demand makes you eager to impress him. You liked the idea of him telling you what to do… maybe even forcing you.

Fuck, you are sick and twisted, you scoffed internally at your self. Yet proceeding to gather your saliva and let it dribble down onto him.

“Thank you, thank you…” you murmur against him, and he twitches at your still airy voice. He would kill to know just how wet you were between your legs.

It was such a sight for you though, seeing him start to get slicked up with your own spit. Your mouth reconnected with him, sliding further down, hand coming up to massage his balls.

You’re whining around him now, starting to move in a sort of rhythm over his cock. You can’t help it, you were becoming frantic at him filling your throat.

The vibration of your mouth sends his hand flying into your hair, drawing a cuss from his lips, “fuck, Y/N…”

You get his cock as far as you can into your mouth without gagging— you’ll leave that for a little later— stroking the remainder. There’s something about the way he takes up the space between your lips, the feeling of his thick cock atop your tongue.

You glance up at him, fingertips teasing the inner parts of his thigh. Just as you look up, you give a harsh suck, hollowing out your mouth and lathing your tongue on the underside of him. Feeling the vein that runs along him.

His head almost bangs back against the wooden beam he’s leaning on, you feel the slight stutter of his hips.

A moan reverberated around you, filling your ears pleasingly. You draw back for a breathe, “you taste so good.”

His hand curls in your hair, panting out, “You’re such a needy girl…”

“Like that?” He asks at the whimper that come from you, “like being told that I see how desperate y’becoming?”

You nod immediately, “please…”

At your way of asking for more dirty talk he smiles, “becoming my little slut? Warming my cock with your mouth just because you’re so horny for it.”

When you don’t reply with words, and only a senseless moan, he taps your mouth with his fingers gently.

“Show me, baby.”

You part your lips almost instantly at his command, jutting your wet tongue out, ready to take him back into your mouth.

He guides his cock back between your lips, and that’s about as far as he gets before you have to take over from him again. All he can register is how hot and warm you’re mouth is as it wraps around him again.

You start to bob your head, taking him all the way down your throat with a slight gag. You’re whining without warrant now, all over his spit slicked cock.

It’s paired with his own moans of pleasure and words of praise as you suddenly draw back, flicking over his wet tip with your tongue, teasing it and making him grunt.

Your soul existence quickly slips to being just about his cock and hearing his noises. Being able to look up at him and see the sweat beginning to sheen over his forehead, and the mess of his soft hair.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he has to forcibly open them every so often to see you. A reality check for himself that down on her knees, is his best friend. Drooling all over his prick with a insatiable need.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He states as you take him all the way down your throat again.

“Taking me like the slut y’are. Might ‘ave to fuck you like one later, how’s that sound?” His mouth has gone loose now, brain muddled with only thoughts of you in it.

You suck and nod over him, brain rioting with a yes at his question.

“Probably so wet, so warm.” He mutters in half thought, and the idea of him even thinking of you like that makes you clench multiple times in your panties.

You roll you hips against nothing which he is grateful he caught with his half lidded eyes. The look of sheer desperation that crossed your face.

Moving faster, you starting taking his cock at a pace that immediately made his hand coil tighter in your hair.

“Fuck… im gon’ come faster than I’d like if y’keep— shit— doing that.” He moans, and you draw back quickly.

“Need to taste it… please, Harry.” You beg, forcing your throat back down around him once you’d got a breathe.

You gagged around him in full this time, earning his hips bucking against you.

Strings of dirty talk and cusses were flying out of his mouth, like a litany being repeated over and over. He kept praising you.

“That warm mouth…fuck… fucking me so good baby. Want to keep y’down there for hours, like m’personal little cockslut.”

Your nails dug into the backs of his meaty thighs, making you moan around him. Spit was covering your chin as you moved hastily over his hard prick.

“Like that idea?” He asked gruffly, “making you drool all over me like this until I’m empty, an’ y’ve come in y’panties to the point you’re dripping.”

You feverishly bob your head, sucking hard against him. If his bucking hips and loose mouth are any indicator, he’s getting close.

A few more minutes of your mouth, and he’s swearing, “im gonna come, dove— fuck— where do y’want it?”

Trying not to stop to long, looking up at his flushed face and blown out eyes, you lowly plead, “on my tongue, please…”

“Good slut, good fucking girl!” He slurs out.

You draw back to his tip, eager to taste him properly. You spit messily over his pulsing red head, kitten licking over it while your hand fucks the rest of his length at a fast pace.

It has him a wreck, and before he know it, he’s moaning out so loud he’s almost scared he woke someone in the house up.

“Fuck! I’m going to come, baby, im gonna come!”

You watch in completely infatuation as his eyes screw shut and his mouth drops into a gasp for air. You feel his hips stutter, and his cock pulse and twitch as it releases onto your awaiting tongue.

He tastes so good. You feel ashamed for even liking it that much, but as it spurts out his tip and drips onto your lower lip, your insane over it.

You rub it in with his tip, coating it over your tongue, and he pants as he opens his eyes to watch you.

It’s a sight etched into his mind forevermore. The fact his come is painted all over your tongue right now.

“Swallow it, pretty girl, let me watch.” He exhaustedly instructs you, voice raspy and deep in his post orgasm haze.

You do as told, and realising some has spilt even onto the corner of his thigh now that you’ve let him go.

Not letting it go to waste, you clean it off with a lick of your still eager mouth. Gently kissing over the spot as well.

“Taste so good, H.” You whisper against him, moving over to kiss his tip a final time.

“Thank you, again. For letting me do that…” You almost feel more satisfied than you would have if you had gotten to come as well.

“Made me feel amazing, baby.”

Or so you thought, because once he raised the point again… “If you want, since I can only imagine how desperate your little cunt is, I can return the favour somehow?”

And it was impossible to say no when he looked like that, boxers still half down his beautiful legs and face flushed that sexy shade of red.

You were in for a night, that was for sure. So much for an early morning.

———

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #he’s so #fuck me I need him so bad #anyways #hope you enjoyed #ily #last oneshot of 2023

[catmanbowser]

remember when i said i was gonna redraw some panels frm wfa’s hang out issue…well i havent redraw all of them but i did bart and cried a lil in the process

Left one by me and the right one’s the og panel :]

#bart allen #catman's art #wfa ily but that aint bart to me #like…what happened to his hair again… #anyways enjoy redraw part one…i think #gonna compile all of them once im done later #midterm’s around the corner but i want to redraw some panels frm this issue so bad….. #ok bye bye im gonna draw the rest now ^^

[shibaraki]

I like ‘bad’ fanfiction I like crackfic and silly AUs I like fic that diverges so far from canon that it’s practically unrecognisable and fic that is blatantly self indulgent I like fanfics with no plot and cliches and predictable twists and repeated tropes! not every fanwork has to be a bestselling novel every single fic has a place and a purpose and sometimes I want to come home and read something that doesn’t require me to think! sue me

#thank you to every writer ily and I see the effort you put into your fics I just hope you know you’re allowed to play around and be silly #we have such range. masterlist be looking like fic one: emotional turmoil ✨ fic two: piss kink ✨ fic three: blorbo works at sainsburys #I enjoy each and every one 👍 #sorry I’m preaching again ig lol I just saw some shitty comments on twit #‘omg this is so bad it’s so far fetched’ so what! it’s fun!! boring bastard aren’t u #bro I read fic for fandoms I’m not even in. for tv shows I’ve never even watched. as far as I’m concerned it’s CANON 🕺🏻 #hell ​some of the best plots I’ve read have been ‘poorly written’ fics #not everything has to be good sometimes being bad is why it’s charming smh #and bad is subjective anyway #sorry I just love fanfic #and I’m still hungover #priv

[blackskorpi0n]

my 23 faves of 2023🤸🏾‍♀️ in no particular order

tysm for the tag @sikoi 🫶🏾!!! I wanna tag @wldestluv-rs @crsentfairy @nepotisim @yngblkarawak @missatan @veone @gleamer @skaterboisims @salemsimss and anyone else who wants to do this 💗

#tag game #ive really enjoyed learning blender throughout this year #next year i wanna do more building and interior #i wanna learn sooo many things at once but its hard to choose one thing #the end of this year has been so fucking hard mentally and its been taking a toll on my creativity so 🙃 #hopefully next year it isnt too bad #anyways ty guys so much 💓 ily all

[exhausted-undead]

...so does anyone else here like arcane by any chance

(will be back to regular poto business soon!!!! stuff incoming)

#whoever accurately guesses how long this bastard took gets a cookie #viktor ily but he was not cooperating during the making of this art #anyway enjoy viktor doing... something i guess #arcane #viktor arcane #league of legends #viktor #art #digital artist #artists on tumblr #my art #if this flops I'm flopping off a cliff

[tbcanary]

Edit Requests: Helena Bertinelli in "Batman/Huntress: Cry for Blood" for @misspickman

"He didn't know if he was a man who had been dreaming he was a butterfly..." "Or a butterfly dreaming he was a man. Yes, I've heard it before."

(ID under the cut.)

ID: Six animated banners with images pulled from Batman/Huntress: Cry for Blood.

1: Helena Bertinelli stands off to the side in her Huntress uniform, holding a crossbow. Cursive script beside her reads, "Helena Rosa." Graffiti text slowly appears behind it, spelling out "INFAME."

2: Helena in a sports bra and sweat pants, training. She holds a crossbow in the first frame, which turns purple for a moment. The second frame shows her throwing knives, and turns purple immediately after. The third frame is a bull's eye with arrows embedded in the center. It turns purple last.

3: Two framed portraits of Helena. The first shows her as a small child, crying. The second is her in her Huntress costume. The two portraits are facing away from each other. Dozens of candles sit in front of the frames and the flames flicker randomly and intermittently. Text appears in three scrolling boxes and reads: "You want justice served? You want vengeance taken? You want honor restored? Then you do it yourself. That's omerta."

4: A large grayscale photo of a young Helena, being held by her mother Maria. In four frames beside it, Helena practices Tai Chi before curling up on the ground hopelessly. Each frame lights up in full color before turning gray.

5: A closeup of Helena's face in front of a purple background with repeating text at low opacity that reads "HUNTRESS." Scripted text lights up white one at a time before turning black: "A killer / Family / Your other half."

/End ID.

#helena bertinelli #huntress #batfam #birds of prey #dc #greg rucka #god i did really thoroughly enjoy this story. if you can't tell based on the amount of time i spent putting this together. #helena i CARE YOU #tbedits #tbanimation #editreqs #frankly. do not ask me how long i spent on this. #some of these bits. required drawing a lot of missing pieces in myself. a thing i am bad at. so: don't look too closely #anyway. good run good story had fun editing it thank you mossy for the rec/req <3<3 ily #flashing gifs #2023reads

[takethelx3]

Big Bro Chongyun had me CRYING IN THE CLUB

#I'm really enjoying doing these little sketches after playing #I might continue to do stuff like this as new events/stories appear #anyway these three being adorable putting leaves in the lake while Xiao and Aether had their moment of privacy literally #I was sobbing #the first part of the event had me giggling and feeling joyous enough #but not only did we get Xiao to come hang out (and oh it was emotional for my heart ily cringefail husband) #we also got to see passionate yun 😭😭😭😭🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌 #HE JUMPED FOR JOY #HE WOULDA SAID YIPPEE IF HE COULD #MY HEART BRO #idk if u know but I adore Chongyun #he was one of the first characters I got waaaaaaaay back in the day and I still play with him often #I adore him fr 😭 #so probably expect a bit more chongyun focused fanart lol #art #fanart #sketch #chongyun #diona #paimon #genshin impact #i just think diona really found some family today

[heymacy]

Macy!! Hi!!

Thoughts on YQHBR Ian booping Mickey? <3

DRISH! HI!!!

boy oh boy do i have thoughts. in fact, i even wrote a little something about it 😉 i give you, YQHBR: boop edition

**

Mickey stretches, twists his torso and legs like he’s wringing out a sponge. Bleary eyes blink awake, squinting against the sunlight beaming through his window.

He sighs. Good morning.

It’s April 1st. The day of fools. He already feels like a fool, if he’s being honest, every day of his life. But that’s something he can sort through later. Right now he has some catching up to do.

He rolls over in bed and grabs his laptop where it rests on the dresser. He pulls it into his lap, flipping open the screen and waiting for it to light up. When it does, it’s less than a minute before he’s logged into tumblr.

What….what the fuck?

There’s something new on his screen, right at the very top. It isn’t an ad, at least he doesn’t think so. He clicks it, hesitant, and nothing happens.

Hm. Strange.

He decides to consult the one tumblr expert he knows.

fcku-up: what the fuck is this thing on my dash eternitysgate: good morning to you too, sunshine

It’s been a week and a half since they’d started talking. They were friends now — not IRL, but something close — and talked nearly every day. It was becoming an integral and beloved part of Mickey’s daily routine.

Ian had been on tumblr longer than anyone Mickey knew. Except maybe Cassie. But he wanted to talk to Ian.

eternitysgate: it’s called boop eternitysgate: i think it’s an april fools thing eternitysgate: they do something like this almost every year eternitysgate: one year you could spam people’s pages with digital crabs fcku-up: crabs? eternitysgate: yep. little orange crabs fcku-up: lovely fcku-up: so what do i do? eternitysgate: click “opt in”

Mickey does as he’s told. Waits. A few minutes later, he checks his notifications.

eternitysgate, staysmashed, oliviasmiddlepart, and 6 others boop boop boop

He takes a screenshot, crops it, and sends it to Ian.

fcku-up: explain eternitysgate: lmao eternitysgate: who else booped you?

Mickey checks. Cassie twice, Victor, Liv, Zoe, and Ian 4 times.

fcku-up: you, mostly eternitysgate: excellent 😇 eternitysgate: now you boop back fcku-up: this is silly eternitysgate: boop me back, bitch 👊🏻 fcku-up: 🙄 eternitysgate: go to my blog, click the little paw. but don’t accidentally unfollow me or i’ll cry for a thousand years fcku-up: 🖕🏻

Mickey clicks on Ian’s username and opens his blog. There, in the navigation section, is a little orange paw. He clicks it.

You’re about to boop eternitysgate

And then, below it, in a purple oval,

boop

He sighs. Clicks it. A tiny green box shows up at the bottom of the screen, altering him to the fact that his boop had been sent through.

eternitysgate: BOOP BOOP BITCH fcku-up: you are a child eternitysgate: I AM A GOD eternitysgate: you don’t understand mick, i’ve been doing this for an hour and a half and i’ve never felt more alive fcku-up: happy for you eternitysgate: oh come on, you know you love it eternitysgate: now go boop cassie back or she’ll come whining to me about it fcku-up: FINE 🙄

** 

It’s been two hours and, much like Ian, Mickey has never felt more alive. He’s been booping almost the entire time, his meter ticking up, up, up. He’s booping friends, mutuals, strangers, people he’s seen in his notifications and people he’s never seen before in his life. Anyone and everyone.

He and Ian are in what the user base has declared a “boop war” — flooding each other with boops, not caring if the other person boops back first. It’s madness and Mickey can’t stop laughing.

There are memes now. Viral posts made mere minutes ago. He’s never seen anything like it, never been a part of anything like it.

eternitysgate: boop me again and i’ll fly to chicago and boop you IRL fcku-up: is that a threat or a promise? eternitysgate: both

Mickey bites back a grin. 

eternitysgate: do you think they’re gonna keep this around after the day is done? fcku-up: idk, maybe fcku-up: part of me hopes they do eternitysgate: it would be a never-ending war eternitysgate: wake up every morning, ride into battle fcku-up: eventually you’d admit defeat eternitysgate: HA! not likely

It goes on like that for hours. They talk for the entire day. It isn’t all about boops, little tidbits slip in between the cracks – what did you have for lunch? how’s your sister? do you have to work tonight? – but the main focus is this inane game they’re playing, this innate sense of bonding they’re experiencing with each other and everyone else.

Mickey can’t help but feel like he’s a part of something, finally. In this game, and in the grand scheme of things. He has friends. Mutuals. People that want to engage with him. Acknowledge him.

To see and be seen.

The sun set ages ago. Mickey is beneath the covers, laptop on his thighs. He boops Cassie, then Liv. Then goes and super boops Ian, followed by an evil boop. He wishes there was something higher than an evil boop, but alas. He decides to send another.

eternitysgate: stop evil booping me you bastard fcku-up: never shoulda told me to opt in, bitch eternitysgate: god i’m gonna miss this fcku-up: they might keep it eternitysgate: in case they don’t, i just want to say – it’s been a pleasure booping with you 🫡

Mickey smiles. Rolls his eyes. Can’t help but find Ian, as always, painfully endearing.

fcku-up: you too, nerd

#IDK WHAT HAPPENED I BLACKED OUT #i miss them so much #and i miSS YOU DRISH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH and i love seeing you back on my dash #i hope y'all enjoy this one #maybe this is the motivation i need to get my ass back in gear and give y'all the final chapter + epilogue you deserve #we shall see #ANYWAY #ILY #BOOP #yqhbr

[backslashdelta]

Did somebody say Breakfast In Bed? Blaine may love making breakfast for Kurt, but on their anniversary I think they both deserve to have someone else take care of the cooking. Don't you agree, @nancysgillians?

Read the fic on AO3 or FFN!

#glee #glee fanfiction #klaine #klaine fanfiction #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #mine #my fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #bib #I am not usually a fluff girl but I thought this was a cute idea and I had a fun time writing it! #happy anniversary to my tumblr spouse of omg 3 YEARS? has it really been that long? wow #anyway ily very much I hope you enjoy the fic #ALSO the irony of posting this after all of the klivorce blogging I've been doing this evening??? hilarious of me actually

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

alrighty, here it is~

🩵 The Overmorrow playlist (on youtube) 🩵

The first 11 are songs that encapsulate the mood of the entire story and its overarching themes, mostly about Eph or literally from his pov (I’m on my hands and knees begging you to listen to King, The Next Right Thing, Quiet, and A Little Closer at the very least 🥺)

The 19 after those are various instrumental tracks I listened to while writing and editing to set ✨ the mood ✨ (I do this for all my fics), more or less in chronological order

And finally, once Overmorrow is finished…I’ll add some bonus songs 😃

Hopefully I’ll be able to host this in a better place suited for music (with no ads!) later on, but this’ll do for now. I really hope you like it!!

#overmorrow #my fics #my posts #going off on a tangent here in the notes bc I have SO MANY THOUGHTS #you may notice that a lot of the instrumental tracks have titles that really suit the events of overmorrow :) #ofc this is mostly bc I took inspo from the stories they belong to #as I mentioned in the concept document; rwby vol 9 had a lot of influence so there are a handful of great tracks (and parallels) from there #the rest are all tracks I already really loved beforehand; some of them I’ve loved for over a decade now (lookin at you One Summer’s Day) #though the one track that /really/ hit me was Same Sky Different World (from cloy; fav k-drama ♡) #like what do you MEAN it’s thematically relevant to overmorrow; kh in general and a super great track I already loved beforehand?? #talk about a triple whammy……… #anyway music is wonderful and I enjoy it #and I love ephemera so so so so much 😭 #okay that’s it! #if you read all of this ily 💕

[parkitaco]

super belated bday ficlet for @astrobei!! (+ my stonathan debut 👀)

Jonathan wakes up with a splitting headache.

This, unfortunately, is nothing new to him - he usually has a headache of some sort these days, as unrelenting stress and trauma will tend to do to a person. There's always something plaguing him. Most of it's his own fault, due to his general inability to let go of anything ever, but still. It's not a pleasant way to be.

He can hear clattering in the kitchen, presumably his mother getting a head start on the weekend's chores. It's still early, if the shaft of weak light streaming in through the gap in the curtains is any indication, and he'd sort of been looking forward to sleeping in as long as his anxious brain ever allows him to, but he's always been a light sleeper and he knows it's pointless to go back to bed now. He groans, sitting up and tossing his covers aside as he runs a hand through his hair.

Jonathan knows it's a little ridiculous, the way his brain works. Summer started two weeks ago, and his job is a decent one, even if the men at the Hawkins post make him want to tear his hair out for a myriad of reasons. The Mindflayer is gone. The gates are closed. Will is safe. Jonathan should not be this stressed.

And yet.

He gets dressed quickly, wincing when he catches sight of his eye bags in the mirror. He hasn't been sleeping well. He hasn't slept well since 1983, probably. Every time he closes his eyes he sees blood, grey skin stretching obscenely over gnarled muscles, gaping mouths with too many teeth to count. His brother's eyes, corrupted from their usual hazel to a dark, swirling, angry color as he strained against the rope tying him in place.

A red-hot poker, sizzling as it met flesh. Jonathan's pretty sure he's more traumatized from that than Will is. He's the one who had to stand by and watch, after all.

That's selfish, though, and Jonathan strives not to be selfish. It's hard to win, in a household with a harried, overworked parent and a younger sibling who seems to get cursed at every turn, but he tries to do as much as he can. It feels like he's doing everything, some days. There's never enough of him to go around.

"Morning, hon," his mother greets when he enters the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Jonathan lies easily, stepping around her to grab an apple off the counter. He leans against it, biting into the apple with a satisfying crunch that serves to jumpstart his overtired brain.

If his mother notices the lie, she doesn't mention it, simply humming a noise of assent as she scrubs at a plate in the sink. Jonathan had meant to do the dishes before going to bed last night, he realizes with a stab of guilt - they'd been piling up, neglected all week, and it had been bothering him, but then Will had asked him for assistance with the evidently very important matter of deciding what to draw for his friends' next DnD campaign, and he'd forgotten.

"I can help with those," Jonathan offers now, guilt twisting in his gut as his mother works at a grease stain, and she waves him off with one soapy hand, showering him with flecks of lemon-scented water.

"Don't worry about it, hon," she says, which is what she always says, and just like always Jonathan wonders how, exactly, he's meant to stop worrying about things. He's pretty sure that worrying is his sole purpose in life. "Doing anything fun today?"

Fun. Jonathan does have fun, sometimes, he supposes. He has fun with Will, though his brother has been more and more concerned with spending time with his friends lately, which is- fine, it's fine. Jonathan has friends of his own, sort of. It's a good thing, that Will's figuring out how to get back to normal.

Still, Jonathan feels a little lost sometimes, without his brother there to hover over. Like that one night, on Halloween last year, when he'd let Will go trick-or-treating without him, and he'd sat in the car for a solid ten minutes after, wondering what he was supposed to do with his evening.

That was the first and last party he'll ever be attending, thank you very much. He hadn't even lasted for fifteen minutes before something demanded his attention - Nancy Wheeler, in all her overwhelming, drunken glory, clinging to him all the way from the car to her room.

Jonathan tries not to think about the way that mess had begun. Him, watching a drink spill over Nancy's white blouse. Him, listening halfheartedly to raised voices from the hall, watching a bathroom door fly open and a boy come storming out, leaving the girl behind to stare moodily at herself in the mirror. Him, Jonathan Byers, following the boy instead of the girl, stepping out on the porch and murmuring a soft I'll take her home, don't worry.

That had been the same night Will's visions started in earnest, and Jonathan had been off at a party, caring for drunk girls and their jilted exes instead of his own family. He can't win. Ever. Everything he does is just a little wrong.

"Jonathan?"

Jonathan blinks, snapping himself back into reality and staring blankly at his mother, who's smirking from where she stands by the sink. "Huh?"

"I asked what you're doing today," she repeats, smiling, and he offers a smile that turns into a grimace halfway through.

"Don't know," he says tightly. "Is Will here?"

"No, he went to Mike's," Joyce answers, already back to the dishes, the water a gentle spray over her hands. "I have to go to the grocery store in a little while, and I have a couple other errands to run- oh, did you ever make it to the pharmacy, hon?"

Jonathan is ninety percent sure she never asked him to go to the pharmacy, but he figures he probably should have known to go anyway. They're low on ibuprofen, of which he is in need of constantly. "No, I'll go today."

His mother smiles absently over her shoulder at him. "Thanks, hon."

Jonathan nods, a little distracted by his mental checklist, which is constantly growing - pharmacy, library, laundry, an endless list of tasks that never really seem to disappear. God, he's tired. Maybe he should have tried to sleep in after all. "No problem," he says, and is only sort of lying, because the truth is that there are no problems, not really - other than the underlying ones, such as money being tight and everyone being traumatized, things are fine. There are, strictly speaking, no specific problems.

It never seems to feel that way, though.

His mother heads out after an hour or so, reminding him to eat breakfast and ruffling his hair on the way out the door. Jonathan spends a half hour making scrambled eggs (and then remaking them, after burning the first batch horrifically). He eats them slowly, one hand holding open the book he's been trying to read for the past three months, always ending up too distracted by the everything else around him to get more than a few pages in. He's never been much of a comic book person, but he gets why Will likes them - they're definitely far more digestible than anything he's ever tried to read. But Jonathan's a bit too serious of a person for stuff like that. Bright colors make his headaches worse.

It's almost ten by the time he starts getting ready to go to the pharmacy, book abandoned on the table and keys in his hand. Maybe he can go to the record store - he has some money, after getting his first paycheck from the Hawkins Post, but at least half of that is going to need to be used to cover their bills this month. Probably better to wait a few more weeks, until after rent is due and he can properly assess how much is left over.

He grimaces to himself and pulls the front door open in one fluid motion, shoving his wallet in his back pocket and flipping through his key ring for the right one - and almost crashes directly into Steve Harrington.

They both yelp and stumble backward, Steve looking sensibly chagrined as he drops his arm, which Jonathan now sees had been poised to knock. "I- sorry," Steve says, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "Sorry."

Jonathan stares at him for a beat, one hand still holding his keys a bit uselessly. Dimly, he wonders if there's a new supernatural horror come to haunt him - that seems the only logical reason why Steve Harrington would be at his house, on his own, at ten in the morning on a random Saturday in June. They don't do this. They're not- friends, they're probably something closer to enemies if he thinks about it. They don't show up at each other's houses unannounced except in dire circumstances.

But that one time, a snide voice in Jonathan's head pipes up, he did. Remember?

Jonathan banishes the thought, on account of the fact that a., Steve had come to apologize for literally beating him to a pulp, which does not connote friendship in any way shape or form, and b., they'd both nearly been eaten alive less than five minutes after. Not exactly a good track record.

Steve grimaces, and opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can Jonathan blurts; "What are you doing here?"

It comes out sounding a little ruder than he intended, as do most of the things he says, but to his immense relief, Steve seems more put at ease by it than anything. He laughs, a short, huffy sort of sound that's more endearing than it should be. "Um. I wanted to talk to you."

Jonathan and Steve are not friends. They do not talk. Is he having a stroke? "About what?"

Steve shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing away awkwardly. "Jesus, Jonathan, I don't know. I was just gonna see if you wanted to come for a drive or something." He glances back at him, sheepish, and he does an awkward sort of shrug-twitch thing with his shoulders, eyes falling to the keys in Jonathan's hand. "If you're busy, though-"

"No," Jonathan says before he's even aware of it, thinking of his mother asking if he was doing anything fun today and how spending time with Steve Harrington is probably not really all that fun, but is at the very least an interesting concept. Better than blowing money on records that should be going to his family. "I was just gonna- pharmacy," he says, gesturing vaguely. "My head, uh." He pauses. He doesn't usually tell people about his headaches. Or any other ailments, really. "Nevermind."

Steve squints at him, looking stuck between a laugh and a frown. "Okay. Is that a yes, then?"

The pharmacy can wait, probably. "Yeah, sure." He coughs. "Yes."

A blinding smile splits across Steve's face, a genuine one. He never used to smile that way, Jonathan remembers - two years ago, it was all closed-lips and wry smirks and raised eyebrows. Kind of insufferable, if you ask Jonathan, but then again, no one ever does ask Jonathan.

It's- nice, is the point. If you asked Jonathan, right this second, what he thought of Steve's smile, he'd say that.

"Where are we going?" he asks, trailing after Steve to the car parked haphazardly in his driveway and shoving his own car keys into his pocket.

"Just- for a drive, man, I don't know," Steve says, pausing with one hand resting on top of the open driver's side door and looking mildly exasperated. Now that he knows he has Jonathan's attention, he supposes, he's back to behaving like a prick.

(Not really. He's not much of a prick, anymore. Not that Jonathan would ever admit that aloud.)

Despite himself, Jonathan smiles a little as he climbs into the passenger seat. "Okay. Got it," he says, tinged with amusement and sarcasm, and Steve gives him a dirty look that doesn't reach his smiling eyes as he backs out of the driveway.

The radio is playing softly, some sort of Cyndi Lauper bullshit spilling from the dash as Steve drives. He's a good driver, Jonathan notices a little fondly, better than he would have expected, with the whole being-a-prick thing and all. He's careful. Like he cares about keeping Jonathan alive and well, which is- bare minimum, really, and it's probably just as much about his own self-preservation, but still. It's nice. Jonathan's always a little pleasantly surprised, where Steve's involved.

But he doesn't want to think about that for too long, so instead Jonathan rolls down his window, letting the cool early-summer air waft over him. "Any particular reason we're doing this?" he asks, just for the sake of distracting himself from his own thoughts.

Steve shoots him another look, though he looks distinctly more amused this time. "You ask a lot of questions," he says wryly, and Jonathan snorts, glancing back over at him. "Don't you ever just, like. Go with the flow?"

At this, Jonathan outright laughs, and surprises himself with it a little. "Go with the flow," he repeats, a little incredulously, and Steve's cheeks pinken a little as he pointedly looks back at the road. "I don't think I'm a very flowy sort of person."

"I'm getting that," Steve grumbles, and Jonathan laughs again. "I just meant - you're so tense. Like, I get stressed out just looking at you sometimes."

You look at me? Jonathan thinks, and then immediately banishes the thought because- no. He's not going to start asking questions like that. "Yeah, well, not all of us can be the perfect Steve Harrington," he says, and it comes out a little more biting than he intends. He winces, an apology on his lips, but it gets stuck in the back of his throat. Better to be a little mean than a little too incriminating. That's how they operate, him and Steve.

Steve coughs, halfway toward a laugh but falling short. "No," he agrees, and sounds like a person trying desperately not to sound as hurt as they feel. Jonathan bites back another apology. "Guess not."

Jonathan's never been good at letting things go. Desperate to fix it, fix them, fix everything, he corrects; "Well, I guess the kidnapping probably mars your record a little."

The statement works precisely how he expected it to - with a cough and a splutter and a reddening of tanned cheeks. "I am not- kidnapping you," Steve squeaks, and there's that laugh again, bubbling up from somewhere in Jonathan's ribcage that he wasn't previously aware of. Maybe that's where he's been keeping his serotonin all this time, locked away in his chest somewhere. "You said you wanted to come!"

"I said I would come," Jonathan corrects, "I didn't say I wanted to."

Steve scowls. "You did want to. You- you want to hang out with me so bad."

Jonathan's not so sure about that one, mostly on account of the fact that he hadn't really known that hanging out with Steve was an option until today, but now that he is, he can definitively say that- maybe, possibly, he likes it. A little. Maybe.

"Don't make me beat you up again," he says, for lack of a better response, and this time Steve laughs, loud and bright in the summer air, and the sound settles something in Jonathan's usually-nervous system. People don't usually laugh with him like this. It's a bit odd, realizing that he's- funny. Likeable, maybe, in the right set of eyes. Or maybe that's just the Steve Effect. He puts people at ease.

"You wanted to," Steve says again, a little more quietly, and Jonathan stays silent, an admission by omission.

They pull into an abandoned parking lot, somewhere on the outskirts of Hawkins where Jonathan's only been a handful of times. It's a decent spot, raised on a hill overlooking downtown, grass growing through he cracks in the pavement. Pretty, in the bleak small-town way that Hawkins typically offers.

He shoots Steve a questioning look, and Steve smiles as he kills the engine. "No one ever comes here," he says, which feels a little like a confession even though it's not, doesn't mean much of anything at all. "I mean- I do, but. I don't know. There's probably, like, better and quieter places to hang out farther out of town, but I get kind of- um." He flushes, running a hand through his hair. "It seems sort of depressing, you know? I like to be somewhere where I can be close to where people are without having to actually, you know- talk to them."

There's a beat of silence, the radio having gone silent the moment Steve shut the car off, and Jonathan allows himself a moment to examine him, a little, the twisted grimace of his lips, the flush steadily rising to his cheeks, the faraway look in his eyes. Steve is a little confounding, sometimes.

Then:

"Sorry, that sounded dumb."

Jonathan blinks, shaking his head on instinct. "No," he argues reflexively, but finds he means it when he adds, "I know what you mean." Under normal circumstances, maybe, he'd poke fun, ask why Steve has suddenly gone philosophical on him, but there's a weird energy in the car, something delicate and vulnerable that Jonathan isn't nearly cruel enough to break.

Steve meets his eyes earnestly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, which Jonathan is- not looking at, not even a little bit. "Yeah?"

Jonathan's mouth suddenly feels very dry. "Yeah," he confirms hoarsely, and then, because that's a little too raw even for him, "Yeah, it's- that's what photography is like, kind of. Using a camera to distance yourself while still, um. Still seeing people, as they are."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? Maybe I should take up photography." He glances back out the window, lost in thought, and Jonathan, overcome with a strange kind of confidence, nudges his arm gently.

Steve turns back to him, frowning, and he tilts his head at the window. "It's boiling in here," Jonathan says, which is half-true. In truth, it feels a little too closed-off, like anything could happen here, anything could be said, and only the two of them would ever know it. It feels like if he's not careful, he might do something dangerous.

Luckily, Steve only nods, unstrapping his seatbelt and climbing out of the car after Jonathan, who clambers up onto the hood of the car with a considerable lack of grace.

"Scratch my car and you're dead to me, Byers," Steve says, but he doesn't sound like he means it even a little, especially when he hops up onto the hood seconds later, knee knocking against Jonathan's.

There's a few moments of silence, both of them staring quietly out at Hawkins spread below them, the breeze ruffling their hair. They make an odd pair, Jonathan knows - Steve, in all his letterman jacketed glory, and Jonathan with his old band t-shirt and eye bags and headache. But oddly, it works like this, in the silence and summer air, the two of them opposite ends of the same spectrum.

"I'm not perfect," Steve says after a moment, less like he's correcting Jonathan and more like he's speaking it into existence, like he's afraid to admit it. "Just- just so you know."

If this were any other day, Jonathan would laugh, make a joke, deflect. But today is different, so he just bobs his head once, a quiet acknowledgement. "I know."

Steve glances at him, brows drawn together in concentration. "No, I mean it," he says, "I'm not- I mess things up, all the time. I think I'm- I don't know. If you're not a very flowy person, then I think I'm too flowy, or something." He bites his lip, eyes raking over Jonathan with an intensity that leaves him feeling oddly exposed. "I wish I was more like you," Steve says, with a quiet reverence that makes something stutter in Jonathan's chest.

He shakes his head once, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "No you don't," he assures him, and Steve's frown deepens, "I'm exhausting."

"You're driven," Steve argues, looking almost offended on Jonathan's behalf. "Not the same."

"I'm a nervous wreck, Steve," Jonathan says with a laugh, but it falls flat. Too close to the truth. He swallows. "All the time."

Steve stares at him for another couple seconds, then releases a soft breath and turns back to stare out at their pathetic little town. "Maybe we should switch," he muses, voice low but sending sparks through Jonathan's nerves all the same, "or- meet halfway, or something."

A year and a half ago I was arrested for beating you up, Jonathan thinks and doesn't say, and now you want to meet me halfway.

They make an odd pair.

"I'd like that," he says, and Steve's gaze snaps back to him, something clicking into place in his expression.

"Yeah?" he asks again, and again looks hopeful and earnest and all of the emotions the old Steve would never have been caught dead exhibiting.

Jonathan's throat is so very dry. He nods. "Yeah."

The breeze ruffles through his hair, and a hand presses against the side of Jonathan's neck. Far in the distance, a bird squawks, and here on the hood of a car a boy meets Jonathan's eyes.

The car creaks beneath them, and Jonathan leans in.

Like everything else, kissing Steve is pleasantly surprising. He's gentle, more gentle than Jonathan might have expected given his reputation, and his lips are soft when they press against Jonathan's own. He tastes like soda and smells like detergent and is careful when he lays a hand over Jonathan's chest, right where his heart is throwing itself against his ribcage. Jonathan presses in closer without meaning to, hand grappling for purchase against the surface of the car before grabbing Steve's waist instead, pulling him closer with a gentle creaking of metal beneath them.

Steve hums, a soft, unintentional sound, and pulls back, the carefully blank look on his face not quite hiding the gleaming look in his eyes, fiery and terrified at once. He shivers once, Jonathan's thumb brushing gently over the cotton of his t-shirt, tucked under his jacket.

His hair is falling into his eyes. Jonathan brushes it away without thinking about it, and only pauses when Steve's breath catches somewhere in his ribcage. Jonathan offers a shaky smile and presses in again, lips connecting with Steve's softly and briefly before he pulls back for real.

"What," Steve says, and then pauses like he doesn't know where to begin.

Jonathan smirks. "Too many questions."

It takes a second, but Steve's face falls into a (feigned) scowl in one swift motion, much to Jonathan's delight. "Wh- I didn't even ask anything yet!"

"Good," Jonathan replies, smirking as he lays back against the windshield, "Don't."

"You're a prick," Steve says, and doesn't seem to mean it in the slightest when he follows suit, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head.

Jonathan presses his leg against Steve's, enjoying the solid warmth of him next to him. "Right back at you." He closes his eyes, letting the summer sunlight wash over him, and Steve shifts beside him, leg pressing more insistently against his own.

Jonathan's head doesn't hurt at all anymore.

#this. got away from me wow #anyway hi suni sorry this is So Late #but happy bday ily pls enjoy this Mess #stonathan #ficlet #st fic #steve harrington #jonathan byers #i also!! did not proofread. so. pls ignore my mistakes

[seo-changbinnies]

hyunjin stages for @hyunpic​

happy birthday vilma!!!!! <3

#stray kids #hyunjin #createskz #bystay #staysource #jypartists #malegroupsnet #hwang hyunjin #stray kids gifs #stray kids hyunjin #skz #my.gifs #eyestrain #it's 7am for you rn so i hope you can see this right when you wake up hehe <3 #HAPPY BIRTHDAY BB!!!!!!!!!! i hope your day is super extra special and full of happiness! #thank you for being such a funny and sweet friend! <3 seriously make tumblr so so fun #also ur the only mutual who has me on tik tok and on top of that ur the only source of kpop content i get on tik tok <3 so ur extra special #^ idk fun fact aldkfaldkfja anyways ily i hope this next year is full of wonderful memories bb! enjoy ur day!!!! #also i was a creep and looked thru ur fav tag and tried to incorporate some stages from that #and i tried to do more double knot stages but i was loosing the fist fight with the ts files

[actual-changeling]

if you do not follow/haven't seen my recent posts, i really recommend you read this one and this one before continuing, just to make it hit the right way.

also reminder that i have an ao3 right here (and it's not all pain, promise!)

sorry in advance :)

-

the more time passes, the easier it is for joel to talk about sarah. it still hurts, always will, an old bullet buried in his heart surrounded by scar tissue, but except for a few memories, words don't make him bleed anymore. tommy tentatively starts bringing her up once he notices that joel no longer flinches when he mentions her name, and it feels good to breathe life into their shared experiences, his brother the only one who comes close to understanding his pain but also the joy that colored their years.

ellie asks, too, just as hesitantly as tommy at first, but soon her curiosity takes over and not a day passes by without a question in-between sentences about his past. joel answers all of them, stories spilling from his lips and spinning themselves into a sarah-shaped web that he can share with her.

"she played soccer, right? when did she win her first competition?"

there's a few sports teams in jackson, and of course the soccer one caught her eye, making joel dread all the twisted ankles and bruised shins he was going to have to tend to. getting grass stains out of sarah's uniforms had always been a task and a half, and eventually they both stopped caring about it and just watched them pile up, turning white fabric a greenish-brown.

joel opens his mouth, the coffee cup in his hand hovering above the kitchen table, and then he stills, every muscle in his body turning to ice.

ellie's joel? is drowned out by the ringing in his hears, knuckles turning white and gripping the porcelain so tightly he can feel it crack in his palm, and he must have stopped breathing because his vision is growing fuzzy, black dots scurrying in his periphery.

joel lets the cup fall more than he sets it down, stomach turning, bile rising in his throat, because ellie asked him a question about sarah, his sarah, and he doesn't remember the answer.

it can't be, right? just a small gap in his memory, nothing big, it'll come back to him in an hour and he'll tell ellie about it later. but the panic squeezing his chest is real, terror slithering up his neck and curling around his ear whispering what else did you forget?

more than ever before, he tries to think back to all of it, from the first time he held her in his arms to the moment he buried her, and something odd happens to him when he finds that so much of it is. blurry. frayed at the edges, burned holes and white blotches obscuring important and unimportant details alike, memory an old role of film decomposing in the back of his mind.

the color of her baby blanket (blue, it had to be blue, he can't see), the first movie he watched with her, her favorite book in primary school, the way he did her hair on the first day of kindergarten, the friendship bracelets they made together, the posters on her wall, the dress she wore to her first dance (purple right? right?), memories surfacing as his panic cracks him open like an earthquake, and joel tries to cling to them, nails scratching at the parts that should be there but aren't until he tastes blood, desperation growing and growing because he is forgetting her.

"joel you're scaring the fuck out of me right now what's wrong?"

ellie's voice is distant, and he hates worrying her, hates the almost hysteric edge beneath it when she repeats herself, hands squeezing his shoulders, softly, first, then harder when he doesn't respond. all of the years that he didn't even know she existed, memories she has that he never will, all the firsts and buts and what ifs and failures that define a childhood, their innocent light fractured into vivid fantasies by the stained glass window of life. he has had all that and more with sarah, clung to it in the after to remind himself that she is real, that he is still a father even with his daughter buried by a nameless river.

it is all he has left of her, the childhood she never got to outgrow, and it's fading in a mind that has mourned her for longer than she got exist.

not for the first time, joel wishes he hadn't flinched, his brain worthless if it allowed sarah to fade away. without ellie bound to his heart, he would have tempted fate again for that alone.

-

"who hurt you" too many people to count and luckily tumblr lets me make it everyones problem

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel and sarah #ellie williams #sarah miller #ficlet #i am so sorry but also not at all #please leave your pain in the tags or comments or my inbox i enjoy reading it #keeps me going #at this pace someone should take tumblr away from me before i give myself or someone else a stroke #anyway i promise this is like the worst it will get #at least today #who knows what my brain spits out tomorrow #but im really on a roll today! #time to read some fanfics and then probably write for my own so i can inflict more psychic damage in the future #if you see me use :) you know shit is about to go down #hi mutuals who i am directly stabbing with this ily

[bromomentum]

Old memories and reunion. Bonus chapter. Daddy issues? in my au?

#i have a test in a few hours god help me #anyway #enjoy! #ily guys <3 #we meet again au #transformers #tfa #transformers animated #tfa optimus prime #tfa ultra magnus #optimus prime #ultra magnus