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mostly-imagines · 6 days

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Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are pleading now, already worried.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steals his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” Hood clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

#these are all wildly different lengths my b #jason todd loves his gf #jason todd the doberman #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction

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rottenaero · 1 year

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What if Steve got kicked out of his parent’s house after season 2?

He was already on thin ice after s1, with the beers and his fight with Jonathan, but after he got into ANOTHER fight with Billy they’re just kinda like, ‘pack your shit and leave’

And after a few weeks of living out of his car in the school parking lot, Eddie notices him after Hellfire and just kinda like, offers his house as a place to stay.

Of course Steve is like, ‘nah, ill be fine’ because he doesn’t want to freeload, but Eddie is absolutely not having it and convinces him that he wouldn’t be, and that he can pay him and do chores and shit if he really feels that bad about it.

Then Steve just starts living with him, of course there are rules, don’t invite people over, don’t talk about Eddie’s business, and don’t talk about the shit in his room.

The rest is the standard criteria, don’t bring animals in, don’t burn the house down, blah blah blah.

Course Wayne is a bit mad about this random guy with the last name Harrington at first, but the guy makes him coffee before he leaves for work, and is willing to put on a goddamn sailor costume to pay help pay the rent, so eventually they become acquaintances.

Eventually turning into the two watching sports on the tv and laughing at Eddies antics.

Thing is, during this whole thing, no one knows they live together. Dustin and the party don’t get much more than i moved out with a friend after the first time they ask to hang out at his house, and Hellfire just knows he has a roommate, not that its Steve, because all his shit is in the living room and hes always working when they’re over.

One day, mid-lunch, they decide to hang out at Eddie’s after school and he's all cool with it but is like ‘wait, my roommates off, let me go ask them if its okay’ and they're like ‘sure, okay, I wonder who it is?’

Then he waltzes straight up to Steve Harrington, who’s sitting by Nancy and Jonathan, and asks.

“Hellfires coming over afterschool, you good with that?”

“Yeah sure, do whatever, its your damn house, I can get out your hair if you want?”

“Nah nah, its all good, want you to meet ‘em anyway. Hey hey, wanna sit with us today?”

“Sure.”

Then Eddie heads back to the now silent Hellfire table (actually the whole cafeteria is a little silent) and sits down in his seat, Steve sitting in the empty one next to him.

Hellfire is absolutely confused, not just because Steve lives with him, but because of the very talked upon rumors about Eddie being gay, and how very true they were, and the fact that as a former-king, Steve should know that.

Steve however, seems very unconcerned with those rumors because for as close as Eddie keeps getting to him, even holding his bicep at some point, he acts very chill and relaxed, even leaning into him at some points.

Hellfire eventually calm down, and go to his house after school, and around 10 they decide to just stay the night. Eddie gives them a thumbs up, and turns to Steve.

“You’re bunking with me tonight.”

“Cool.”

Gareth starts panicking because there is a very obvious pride flag above one of his posters and he may not have seen it before and Eddie is so getting beaten up.

Except none of that happens. They wake up early that morning and Steve starts getting ready for work, and is about to leave when he turns to Eddie with a smirk.

“What, no goodbye kiss? Too dorky to do in-front of you friends?” And Eddie strolls right past the flabbergasted Hellfire and plants one on his temple.

“Goodbye o-great-king-of-assholery!”

Gareth quite literally chokes.

(What makes this even better? They’re not even dating, thats just Steve-being-Steve)

Part 2

Ao3

#might be coming to your local ao3 in more detail #they're dorks your honor #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #Steddie short #might write this #might not #hellfire #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #ficlet #steddie ficlet #crisisinverted17 #crisisinverted17's roommate au

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bahrtofane · 3 months

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Jude misses his spanish class, and that somehow ends with the both of you stuck in a dark elevator, legs tangled and annoying each other till help comes

Word count - 3.5K+

Watch it - ur trapped in an elevator with jude, lights go out, you accidentally sock him, fluff tho hehehe

a/n - shout out to my bff best plooki for sending me the last jude pic, its what inspired this whole thing. nmout 3lik kho

—--

Jude is late to spanish class (again) so he's forced to sit for the staff ones instead. his mom will kill him if he misses any more, and his teammates will only tease him more. With the amount of promotional content and youtube videos he has to film soon, he literally doesn’t have the time to skip another class.

The only open seat is by you in the far corner, so he slides in as discreetly as he can. Which turns out isn’t all that discrete when all eyes are on him from the moment he steps into the room but it’s whatever. He'll live.

He pulls out his ipad and takes notes like the good student he is and pretends not to notice your gaze on him. He sits like such a teenage boy, legs spread and arms dangling over the table.

You haven’t been with Madrid all that long, you came along as an intern, eager to find your footing. Having one of the players all up next to you during class was not something you saw coming, you’ve met maybe one or two of them, after you got lost and ended up in the training facilities and they so graciously led the way out of the maze.

You’ve honestly been so busy with just getting settled you completely forgot the players existed. And here Jude is.

You stick your head back to your notes and hunker down for the hour left of spanish. You don't miss his stray gazes that land on you.

-----

Jude is a quiet guy you learn. He chews his bottom lip and blinks a little harshly at times. He's a pretty standard run of the mill guy and you try to treat him as such. He leaves you be, letting you have your space and pays attention to whatever the professor is saying in favor of talking to anyone.

When class is over you gather your things, slipping out from behind him and head to the elevator. Why the class is on the top floor you have yet to figure out. You like this elevator anyway, it's down the hall from the main big one that everyone crowds into, usually empty. Even though it lacks the big windows that overlook the pitches.

You see Jude jog to the elevator, you slide your hand out ,holding the doors open for him and he smiles at you in thanks, you smile back. It's silent save the hum of the elevator moving down.

Until it screeches to a halt, jolting the both of you so fast you land on the floor, legs tangled, things strewn all over the floor. Jude looks away while he picks himself up, helping track down your pens that roll across the floor. When you smooth your clothes down and find your footing, another jolt rocks the small metal box you're in.

Jude instinctively reaches out to steady himself, his hand landing on the railing beside you. You lurch forward and almost land right on him again. But you manage to keep your composure, and footing. Thank god.

"What in the world?" Jude asks, brows furrowing.

"I... I'm not sure," you reply, your heart still racing from the amusement park ride you never signed up for. Does Madrid not keep their elevators up to date on what is going on.

You both glance around the elevator, trying to assess the situation, and half waiting for another lurch. It's eerily quiet, and you notice the emergency button panel is dimly lit.

"Should we... press the emergency button?" you suggest tentatively, eyeing the panel.

"Probably our best bet" Jude agrees, reaching out to press the button. After a moment, a crackly voice comes through the intercom,

"Hello? Is someone in need of assistance?" a nasally voice comes to life. She sounds like your aunt kinda.

"Yeah, the elevator stopped suddenly, and we're not sure what's going on," Jude explains.

“Ah okay, which elevator? There should be a number and letter over the doors.”

“2C.” you real aloud.

"Perfect thank you. We’ll have people get to you as soon as we can. Please remain calm and stay where you are," the voice responds before the intercom falls silent again.

You exchange a look with Jude, both of you silently hoping that help arrives soon. The minutes tick by slowly, and the silence in the elevator becomes almost suffocating.

"So... Do you have any plans for after this?" Jude asks, breaking the silence. Even if its a little awkward.

You shake your head, grateful for the distraction. "Not really. Just some studying, I guess. What about you?"

Jude shrugs. "Probably just head back to my place if they don't need me. Training was pretty intense this morning."

You nod, "Sounds hectic."

"Yeah, it can be," Jude admits, scratching the back of his neck. "But it comes with the territory, I guess.

You fall into a silence again, playing with the hem of your shirt. Jude tucks his ipad under his arm and sighs deeply. Now that you take a good look at him, it looks like he booked it right from training. Slides and socks on, madrid shirt and shorts. Interesting.

You move to push the button again after what feels like ages, but this time the voice doesn't answer.

“What the..” you mumble. You reach for your phone but as luck would have it there is no connection.

Jude slides to the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce and trying his luck on his phone.

“No signal either huh.” he grumbles.

“Nope, we really just have to wait on them then.”

“I hope they hurry it up, no offense.”

You shrug, ”none taken.” sliding to take a seat on the floor opposite to him.

Little do you know you're about to spend the next 4 hours in this elevator together.

—-

It turns out there is only so much small talk you can make in an hour with a total stranger. Trust, you know.

After telling your life story, and him his, you’ve both run out of things to say. So you sit, drumming against the metal walls, taking turns pressing the help button and being greeted with the sweet sound of silence each time.

“What the actual hell are they doing.” Jude groans.

“Ignoring us.”

You just might lose your mind. Your legs are starting to go numb, and you watch Jude grow more agitated as time presses on. Thankfully there's been no more lurches downward, a win is a win. You get up periodically to stretch your legs out, checking your phone, reorganizing your bag, playing rock paper scissors, telling each other stories.

Jude is a silly guy, very competitive even after your 10th round of tic tac toe.

“I win again.” He cackles.

You wave him off, “Yeah yeah it’s just luck.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he smiles.

He goes back to the red button, and once again there’s no answer. You’re half way to losing your mind. How do they just forget about you here? You try texting people, and nothing goes through. Jude walks around the little space, arm raised and pointing his phone up in hopes of catching a signal.

“Oh wait I think- never mind. Not even one bar will hold in here.” He slumps back down against the wall.

“I actually can’t believe they’re not answering.” You groan, head in your hands.

“Me neither. “

You resort to looking through your phone for any games to pass the time. But you need a signal for just about all of them. Might as well clear out your photos right? Jude joins, scooting next to you.

“Don't mind if I watch?”

You shake you head, “nah, just getting rid of old pictures.”

He nods.

Now you just have to be triple careful of not accidentally swiping through any embarrassing pictures. You don't thankfully, instead your room back home pops up, after you redecorated it. Zidane jersey hanging off your wall.

Jude perks up at this, “Zidane fan?”

“Very big one.”

He smiles, “me too.”

“I've heard. What's he like?”

“Zidane? Hm, he's well, elegant. Classy. He's a calm guy.”

You nod, tucking your phone back inside your pocket, turning to face him, “have you seen him play in a charity match with ronaldo?”

He laughs ,”yeah the one with that insane title, fat old ronaldo does hat trick.”

You giggle, “that's the one.”

He hums, leaning his head back on the wall and you fall into silence again.

More time passes and you don’t think you have it in you to reorganize your bag for another time.

“I have an idea.” you declare as you move into the second hour.

Jude raises a brow.

“Might as well do our Spanish homework right?”

“I might die.” he dead pans.

You roll your eyes, “its better than doing nothing.”

“Nu uh, no way. I choose nothing.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrug.

10 minutes later Jude sits down next to, pulling his ipad out and getting to work. You smile, “see, I told you.”

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbles, “can you help me on number 4?”

You do, leaning against him and walking him through the conjugation of each word, your fingers brush against the iPad screen and you hope he doesn't notice how you blush.

Hours in an elevator with Jude bellingham what is this a bad fanfic plot?

You end up finish the pages of homework side by side and Jude smiles

“That wasn't half bad actually, thanks for the help.”

“No problem. We make a pretty good team huh?” you tease.

He snorts, “I guess so.”

It turns out Jude is really bad at staying in once place, he does anything but keep still, throwing his slides at the buttons periodically, and one even hits the help button, this time the voice answers.

“Hello?” it's a completely different voice his time, male.

“Thank god hello.” Jude scrambles to get up properly, and you follow suit, leaning closer to the little speaker.

“I'm sorry?”

“We've been in this elevator for what, 2 hours now and no ones been answering the call button? Fucking ridiculous.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience, we've been short staffed and I clocked in a few minutes ago.”

“For fucks sake, thats great and all but can you get us out?”

There's a pause, and for a second you think they're going to hang up and there will be no hope. You will die in this elevator.

Luckily for you the voice comes to life again, “would you like us to call the fire department?”

“What do you think?” Jude dead pans.

“We will keep you updated, but for now it's looking like a wait time of 45 minutes to an hour. “

Both of you groan, dramatically falling to the floor.

“You'd think Madrid would have better staffing,” he rubs his eyes.

“You think.” you agree.

“Im so gonna complain about this.” he squints his eyes at the buttons, almost like he's threatening them.

“Hey it could be worse, you could have missed a game.”

“Very true.”

He chews his lip before turning to you, a glint in his eyes, “Wanna play hot hands?” he tries.

“Sure why not.”

You shuffle so you're facing him once again, You're up first, palms up while Jude hovers his hands palm down over yours, and wow are his hands huge, completely covering your own. The name of the game is to manage to slap his hands faster than he can move them away.

And so it begins.

Unsurprisingly, Jude has keen reflexes, and you only shake your head at him.

“I'm at an unfair disadvantage, whereas VAR.”

He giggles, “VAR or no var, you're losing,” he shrugs.

It's just enough of a distraction to get you your first win.

“Lets gooo.” you celebrate.

“VAR immediately, time wasting, yellow card, red card, extra time.”

You smile, “you're just mad I won.”

“Yeah you won unfairly. “He sulks.

“Yeah yeah, your turn.”

He sighs dramatically, but puts his palms up regardless.

You're too focused on his hands, skittering at any movement, so much so you end up jumping and throwing your hands out so fast you slap him. Uh oh.

“Oh my god i'm so sorry, are you okay.” you reach out and cradle his face, a little red but nothing too bad thank god. You almost took out Madrid's star boy, you're just an intern, you do NOT have the money to fund any legal cases.

You don't even notice he's laughing, giggles bursting from his lips while you watch on. His eyes are big, oh my god, he's got those big brown beautiful eyes. People weren't kidding. He's even more handsome in person. You want to kiss him. Oh yeah you're holding his face, you drop your hands away and roll your eyes, trying to play off the blush that's spanning your face.

“I'm fine, don't worry. You got a mean arm, ever think of being a goalie?” he teases.

“I'm going to be Barcas goalie. How about that.” you shoot back, though there's no real bite to your words.

He only laughs harder, “hot hands really makes you competitive huh.”

“It wasn't my fault okay, you moved too fast.”

He only shakes his head, “I think you're the sore loser.”

“No but seriously, are you good?”

He waves you off, “nah i'm good seriously, you're fine.”

You sigh in relief.

He snorts, “no more hot hands for you.”

You squint at him, “I'm going to sleep.”

You make a pillow out of your bag and try to nap. Might as well at this point. Jude seems to share a similar idea as he lays down opposite to you, tucking his arms under him and screwing his eyes shut.

It turns out sleeping on the floor on an elevator is extremely uncomfortable, and you get about 5 minutes of shut eye before Jude somehow has his legs rolled into yours.

“ ‘M Sorry,” he mumbles. But you don't say anything, wiggling your feet back under his and trying to get some shut eye.

—--

At the turning of the third hour you get woken up by the crackle of the magic voice in the wall, “the wait is up about an hour to an hour and a half.”

“What's taking so long,” you huff, eyes still blurry from your sleep.

“We apologize for the delay but there's a back up in call logs and-”

“Yeah we get it you're understaffed whatever. Just please hurry up.” Jude bites back, nearing closer and closer to you.

The voice fizzles away and the sleep has worn off you, enough so to realize he's almost spooning you. You sit up, but Jude remains as he is, breathing soundly as he uses his hands to cover the harsh elevator lights that beat down on him. You're surprised the lights haven't-

You spoke too soon. Way way too soon. The lights go out within an instant and you almost scream, jolting against Jude.

This stirs him awake again, and he's oh so confused at the lack of lights. The secondary elevators are great, but there are no windows. Just solid metal on all ends. Leaving the two of you in complete darkness.

“Jude?’

You hear shuffling, “Yeah, I'm right here don't worry. “

“This is kinda freaky now.” you trail off.

“Hey, we'll be fine. Look on the bright side, it's easier to sleep.”

You snort, “Yeah guess so,” But the ease doesn't wear off of you.

“Here,” you feel Jude’s hands reach for yours. Feeling for them in the darkness till they're laced together. “Now it's not so bad right?”

You can feel your face heat up,“Not bad at all.”

“How sick would hot hands in the dark be? Just think-”

“Absolutely not.” you sigh.

He giggles again, teasing you is surprisingly very very fun for him. This is the most fun he's had all day. Every time you turn away while you blush only fuels him to tease you more. Out of all the people to be stuck in here with, he thinks he got pretty lucky with it being you.

But as sweet as you are, the situation only seems to get worse. He uses his free hand to feel for the button again, and the voice comes back.

“The lights just went off. I hope they're on their way.“ Jude speaks.

“The wait is about an hour.” the speaker says.

“My fucking god.” he sighs.

“Were supposed to wait in the dark, for an hour?” you can't believe it.

The voice mumbles another apology and Jude only tells them to go away if they’re going to be completely and utterly useless. And alone you two go.

—-

You start singing by the fourth hour. You're completely tangled in Jude’s legs, unable to even see what's in front of you in the pitch black darkness, but you can feel him. And it keeps you grounded, keeps away the panic. He pats your back while he sings stupid songs, trying to cheer you up and mind off of the situation as much as he can. The teasing doesn't stop, and you're starting to like it. (You liked it from the beginning).

If someone told you you'd be cuddling Jude Bellingham on the floor of an elevator in the darkness after class, you're pretty sure you'd call the nearest psych ward. But here you are. You think you’re sitting sideways on his lap, while he sits back to the wall, your arms tangled. You've started to trace shapes on his arms.

Who knew an elevator would be the perfect place to bond.

“You smell nice.” Jude mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You hum,” thank you.”

“You know, this is pretty nice. You're a good cuddler.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. my rooms a better spot though.”

You try not to freeze up too much, but you're sure he can feel you go rigid next to him.

“I bet it is,” you mumble into his shoulder

He laughs, easy and light, “You’re pretty cute too.”

“You cant even see me it's literally pitch black in here.”

“So?”

“You're silly Jude.”

“So i've been told”

You get comfy again, sliding a hand to his back and scratching lightly.

He melts within an instant, “that actually feels really nice…” he trails off, leaning against your shoulder.

“You’re like an overgrown puppy, “ you laugh.

He only snorts, leaning forward to allow you better access to his back.

—--

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the voice comes to life, and Jude is not in the mood.

“What is it?”

“The wait is now 10 to 15 minutes, please step back from the doors and do not be alarmed when the fire department needs to possibly force the doors open.”

“Finally.” You sigh, squishing your face into his neck.

“Finally.” He confirms.

After a few minutes. You hear the sound of footsteps outside the elevator and voices chattering.

“Alright guys, sit tight, should be a few minutes and you’ll be outta here.” A voice says on the other end.

“Alright.” Jude replies, gently getting up and separating from you.

“We’re gonna need you guys to step back.”

You do as much, trying to feel for your bag to kick it away from the door.

Jude rests a hand on your hip and you smile, even if you can't see it you bet he's doing the same.

The doors are manually pried open, and you're greeted by the sweet sweet faces of firemen and security.

"Are you two okay?" the fireman asks, helping you both out of the elevator.

"Yeah, we're fine. Just glad to be out of there," you say with a sigh of relief.

As you step out into the hallway, you and Jude exchange grateful smiles. Unsurprisingly people crowd to him and make sure he's all good. He waves them off instead pointing them in your direction. You insist you're all good, no injuries. After thanking everyone you slip away and begin walking down the hall. After all, you don't expect him to actually mean anything there. You just got stuck together for a while, and got comfortable. That's all.

You think this is the 4th floor? Down the stairs you go.

The man is full of surprises. He catches up to you, shouting your name and closing the door to the stairs behind him.

“Had enough of me?”

“Eh four hours seems like enough.” you shrug.

He rolls his eyes, “so you don't give me your number then if i ask?”

“Only if you ask nicely. And I don't even have a Spanish number yet, I'll have to get yours.”

(you want his number sooo bad you might explode, this can't be real.)

“Would you like to get my number then?” he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly shy, ‘only if you want you know you don't have to just because the whole elevator thing i mean-”

You cut him off with a kiss to the check, “I'd love to get your number Jude. And thanks for being so nice in there.”

He looks to the ground, playing with his hands, “yeah anytime.”

You hand him your phone and he takes a contact picture right there, with the most obnoxious contact name to match.

‘the best elevator buddy Jude <3’

You smile, “I'll text you when I can, yeah?”

He hums, waving you off, slipping the door open with his foot and setting off in the opposite direction. What a day huh?

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mewhenimanangel · 9 months

Text

everywhere ʚɞ miles morales x reader

pairing: 42!miles morales x reader

synopsis: you got your schedule changed after an altercation. suddenly you’re everywhere in miles’ life.

wc: 2.0k

warnings!: swearing, violence

next ʚɞ

you were sitting in your guidance counselor's office, getting a schedule change. you got into a fight with someone in your third period, so the ultimate decision was changing what class you had then. you changed it from algebra 2 to physics. "girl you're just lucky the bransons aren't gonna press charges against you" your counselor said, typing up something on her computer.

"don't see why they would it was literally that bitch's fault." you mumbled the last part. "hey, watch your language in here!" she scolded you. "ms. bennett knows you're coming to her third period, so go now before you're any later" she said dismissing you.

you walked into the class and a couple heads turned to you. "oh y/n, you could sit..." ms bennett drew out looking around the room. "oh there, there's a seat open next to miles" she pointed to the back of the room and you followed her finger.

there was a boy sitting there, seemingly in the middle of drawing something. his hair was plait back in two braids, purple hoodie over the school uniform, he had dark brown skin and brown eyes staring back at you. he rolled them as he picked up his bookbag that was sitting in the chair next to him.

you walked over to the desk and sat down "hey i'm y/n" you said in a flat tone, if you were gonna be in this period now you might as well talk to someone. "i know, i can hear" he mumbled not even bothering to look at you.

you rolled your eyes at his attitude - so much for trying to talk to someone - and just focused on ms bennett. you knew who he was, you'd seen him around the halls before with his friends. he often got into fights and would butt heads with teachers. though you knew he was smart, he had to be he was in advanced physics after all. and when your school had their annual awards ceremony at the end of the year he would always be on the list.

you glanced at him a few times through the side of your eye, looking down at his doodles on his worksheet. he looked up and noticed you staring "what you want help or something?" he asked in a sour tone. "no, i can do my own work" you rolled your eyes. "then stop staring at my paper" he scoffed.

"whatever. your drawings are nice." you complimented getting back to your work. he didn't say anything he just looked at you before getting back to writing. "so you don't know how to say thank you?" you said not bothering to look at him. "do you ever stop chatting? maldita boca ruidosa"he spat, mumbling the last part. "why'd you even come to this period? heard bout ya fight is that why?" he asked.

you looked over at him and answered "yeah, it was that dumb bitch melanie's fault anyways don't know why they didn't move her schedule" rolling your eyes.

"i saw the video, you really beat her ass" he blew a quick breath out his nose. "she deserved it" you scoffed. "what happened?" he asked you. "now who's the one that won't stop chatting" making him roll his eyes. "she said something about my mom and ain't shit was funny" you told him, sighing looking back down at your paper. he noticed your mood change and decided not to press any further, getting back to his own work.

the bell rung and you grabbed your bag handing in your paper. miles watched you leave, your friend safiya, waiting by the door. he knew who you were even before ms bennett said your name. he would see you around the halls, you were usually quiet and kept to yourself unless you were with safiya. if you were with her he would always hear you guys laugh, watching as you threw your head back at something she said.

he admired the way you carried yourself, you always looked nice and made yourself look as good as you could in standardized uniform. he had to admit he thought you were pretty - the way your curls framed your face, the little beauty mark you had on your cheek, the shade of lipgloss you wore that complimented your warm brown skin.

when his friends went up to him telling him you got in a fight with some girl, he was a little shocked. he didn't take you as the type to throw hands. in the video you had her pinned to the ground, straddling her waist throwing punches at her face. she was fighting back of course but not any where near hard enough to stop you. when ms bennett and another student ran up to pull you off each other you were yelling a string of curses at the girl, blood pooling by her nose. he figured whatever she said to you must've been bad.

the day continued like normal for you two until seventh period when you had to go to your new math class. "y/n sit right there in front of that desk." your teacher told you. she got to teaching for the next five minutes until the door opened "morales where were you?" she cocked an eyebrow at him. "bathroom. i literally asked 'fore i left" he brushed off heading for his seat. he furrowed his eyebrows seeing you in front of his desk.you shot a playful smile at him that made him roll his eyes.

he sat down and leaned forward to your ear "why are you here?" he whispered. "i switched classes dummy" you turned to the side. "yeah but why you sittin by me again" "i got put here, that's what you get for wanting to play mr loner and sit away from everybody" you smirked. "what-" he was interrupted by the teacher "miles, pay attention and stop chatting" his tsk made you snicker.

the last bell rung and you got up to leave the class, dropping your headphones on your way out. miles was about to leave when he saw them sitting on your chair. he sucked his teeth and shoved them in his pocket, leaving the class.

you and safiya walked down a few blocks to your favorite bodega for an after school snack. "lenny you have any more beef patties?" you asked, leaning on his counter. "you love them ting eh?" he chuckled, ringing you up. "one in the back, i got to restock" he pointed. "i miss you now, they wrong as hell changing your fucking schedule instead of that bitch." safiya groaned, grabbing a bag of chips from the aisle next to you. "dead wrong" you agreed, heating up the patty.

you went back to the counter to pay lenny when you heard the bell ring at the door. "tienes que estar bromeando" miles groaned. seriously why were you all of a sudden everywhere. "aw hey stranger" you smiled at him. "you obsessed with me or something chica?" he asked before going to the counter. "who would be obsessed with you? please" you scoffed, taking a bite of your patty "whatever, lenny you got any more beef patties?" miles asked the man.

"nah sorry bro. she got the last one" he apologized, pointing at the patty you were in the middle of biting. you nervously laughed as miles turned to glare at you. "culo molesto" he mumbled to himself. "aight just get me this" he said putting down a snickers bar and an arizona. he was about to leave with a scowl on his face but you stopped him "look if it's that serious, just take this half" you tore the patty in two. "it ain't that serious" he brushed off. "you obviously want it i can see that damn expression on your face. just take the thing dummy" you rolled your eyes pushing it in front of his face.

he rolled his eyes and this time there wasn't any meanness behind it, you saw his face light up by the tiniest bit. he took it in his hands "thank you." he mumbled. "aw you have manners" you said, you and safiya moving to the door.

"good night lenny!" you and miles called out to him. you shot a glare at each other, before he left and the two of you followed behind. you walked with safiya until you reached her turn "i'll see you tomorrow stink" she called out to you. "bye bebe" you kept walking seeing a familiar head of braids kneeled on the ground tying his shoes.

you decided not to bother him but he heard you coming anyway. he glanced over his shoulder doing a double take when you saw you. "alright are you following me now?" he mumbled.

he was getting really suspicious of your sudden appearance in his life. he was a little worried that it was in relation to him being the prowler but on the other hand something about you was so soft and harmless. "i live up this way, dummy" you rolled your eyes. "i have better things to do than follow you around you know" "whatever, you been everywhere today and it's mad weird" he kept walking. "yeah that's kind of what happens when you share a class" you joked.

he looked at you through the side of his eye as you two walked in sync. "anyways i gotta go this way, i'll see you tomorrow dummy" you said, quickly crossing the street. he watched you walk to your building admiring the way your hips swayed when you walked. he kept walking when he saw you walk up the stairs and enter through the door.

ʚɞ

"baby can you go pick up some groceries?!" your dad called out from the kitchen. you groaned before trudging to your dresser to put on some sweatpants. "thank you baby" he said to you, you ignored him and grabbed the money and the list in his hand before putting on your slides and leaving the apartment.

you didn't hate your dad but when your mom died you grew distant from each other. he just got weird and his temper grew shorter so you just began avoiding him. after every argument you guys had he would just buy you things hoping that would make up for it, and it did. but for the most part, you just wanted your dad back.

you walked down the street keeping your hand in your pocket on the small knife you carried for safety reasons. you went to the grocery store and picked up everything on his list, including a little something you wanted. you checked out everything and made your walk back home.

something was off though, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. and not just someone looking at you but peering into your soul. you looked over your shoulder to see if someone was following you but nothing just people on the street minding their own business, laughing with friends, and two people arguing. you sped up down the street and didn't relax until you entered your apartment, putting the bags down on the counter and going to wash your hands.

♱

miles jumped over the rooftops making his way back home. he'd just finished up prowler duties and he needed to go clean all this blood off him. something on the ground caught his attention, it was you. what the hell were you doing out so late by yourself, are you insane? he was in a hurry to get home but something compelled him to stay there and watch you.

he followed you on the rooftops, making sure you got home safe. he noticed you looking paranoid and scurrying into your building. he waited for a minute before jumping back to his building, going down the fire escape. he couldn't stop thinking about you that night, even when he was squeezing blood out of his clothes into the bathtub he was still thinking about you.

taglist? ౨ৎ

#NIA WRITES ࿐#across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles x black reader #spider man: across the spider verse #prowler miles #earth 42 prowler #black reader

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nightgoodomens · 7 months

Text

God: Aziraphale. This is your judgment day.

Aziraphale: Well. I always tried to be a good Angel.

God: You fell for a demon.

Aziraphale: A Fallen Angel.

God: Same thing.

Satan: Not really.

God: Yes, it is.

Satan: No. We are the First Fallen. Don’t throw us in the same bag with basic demons.

Aziraphale: Exactly. I have standards.

God: Either way.

Aziraphale: Okay, I did. That’s not my fault.

God: You have acted on it. That is your fault.

Aziraphale: Technically that is your fault.

Satan: Oh!

God: A… what?

Aziraphale: You’ve created him. He’s your baby.

God: Well…

Aziraphale: So who made him beautiful?

Crowley: *turns red*

Satan: *snorts*

God: Aziraphale…

Aziraphale: So you’ve made him the prettiest Angel out there. And gave him the best personality. Made him a literal perfection.

Beelzebub: Ok, that’s subjective.

Aziraphale: You fell for Gabriel, you have no right to opinion.

Beelzebub: Hey!

Satan: He has a point.

Beelzebub: You shouldn’t even be involved in this. You’re subjective since you fancy Crowley.

Satan: It is called having a good taste. Which you don’t have.

Beelzebub: Gabriel has a personality he just doesn’t like you. Or Crowley.

Crowley: Good.

God: Anyway. Falling for him when he was an Angel makes no difference, Aziraphale, because when he became a Fallen Angel you still pursued him.

Crowley: He didn’t pursue me.

God: He pretended to be in danger and waited for you to rescue him.

Satan: I knew it.

Crowley: Wait, really?

Aziraphale: Lies and slander.

Crowley: *smirks*

Aziraphale: Well, that’s Satan’s fault.

Satan: What have I done this time?

Aziraphale: You made him even prettier.

Satan: Well, you don’t make your crushes uglier.

God: He has a point. You told me you jumped in to take Crowley out of boiling sulphur so he wouldn’t change. And then all you did was give him a tattoo and pretty snake eyes.

Crowley: Oh, yeah, I remember that.

Aziraphale: You were thrown into boiling sulphur?!

Satan: You didn’t tell him that?

Crowley: Why would I tell him that?

Aziraphale: I thought when you fall you have a nice demon take you to Hell! Like when I thought I fell and you came for me!

Satan: Oh boy.

Crowley: Well you were upset enough.

Random Angel: Awwh.

Aziraphale: So you, God, created the prettiest Angel with the best personality, then you kicked him out of Heaven, and Satan took over and made him even prettier. Where is my fault in this?

God and Satan: Well.

*silence*

Satan: You weren’t planning to do anything to them anyway, were you?

God: Yes, I did.

Satan: Oh, have a day off, what are we gonna do on Friday evenings if not watch catch up on these two. You’re gonna cancel my favourite tv show?

God: You are irresponsible.

Satan: You make all the decisions, I deserve this one. Aziraphale and Crowley, you’re free. Fuck off. Do your worst.

God: Do your best…!

*They’re both already gone*

*They just hear a mumbled “SATAN FANCIES YOU?! BOILING SULPHUR?!”*

God: NEXT!

#good omens #crowley #ineffable fandom #good ineffable omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #ineffable dumbasses #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #satan and god #aziracrow

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longing-for-the-past-times · 8 months

Text

finding out it's your birthday

task force 141 x reader

synopsis: It's your birthday, but you don't know how to tell your teammates about it

notes: don't really know how to properly describe this, but it's based on this request and my personal experience of having to spend my birthday at work (no, I did not bring them baked goods, just sweets from the shop). Really short, not proofread, no plot.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated🙈

warnings: none

find it on ao3 masterlist

"and now I am dreaming and you're singing at my birthday// and I've never seen you smile so big" - moon song

There were a lot of potential ways you could have spent your birthday, but running through the narrow hallways of the base with a heavy backpack slung over a shoulder definitely hadn't been one of them

You almost crashed into other three operators, including König from KorTac who had the common sense to place his heavy hands on your shoulders in an attempt to steady you before you ran him over in your rush to get to the meeting room

Laswell had advanced the hour the post-mission debriefing was supposed to take place and it ended up clashing with your own schedule, the one day you decided to organise your actions into one and now you were late by almost 5 minutes. Which wouldn't seem like much to some, but being a member of Task Force 141 meant you needed to uphold a certain standard.

But it was your birthday and even if you were 99% sure no one was actually aware of it, you'd spent the morning baking oat cookies and muffins, and carefully packing them into casseroles. You also tried to bring them to the destination with minimal damage, but now you could only hope there was something edible left of the baked goods.

"I'm sorry I'm late!", you meekly excused yourself, taking a seat between Ghost and Soap and blushing slightly when feeling Price's judging glare.

"Anyway, as I was saying when you tried to infiltrate through this crack in the perimeter…"

Slightly tapping your left foot against the floor, you couldn't focus on Laswell's words. What if they didn't like the cookies - you were never able to make them both soft and chewy - or what if the muffins stuck to the muffin liners? Did you put too many chocolate chips in them?

"Y/N? What's your take on this?"

You looked at Price with an alarmed expression, panic bubbling up in your chest upon seeing the questioning looks of the others. You didn't catch the last part of the question - were they asking about your birthday? Laswell must have known, she was the one responsible for all the intelligence after all.

So you did what seemed the most logical thing to do. You opened the backpack and placed the plastic casseroles on the table, unaware that everyone else in the room was literally frozen in place.

"So yeah, it's my birthday today and I made some cookies and muffins and thought it would be nice to share them with you and… that's not what you were talking about, is it?"

Your words trailed as you realised that the timing wasn't as ideal as you planned. At least, now you were sure they hadn't known: Price's eyes were widened comically, and Gaz was repeatedly blinking at you in confusion and disbelief. Soap let out a thunderous laugh as he instantly pulled you into a bear hug and Ghost… you couldn't tell his expression under the mask, but the blank look in his eyes meant he was probably still wrapping his head around it

"How about we forget any of this happened and I do it again after the debrief is over?" A blush spread on your cheeks as you tried to put the casseroles back into the backpack, but you were stopped by Gaz's firm grip.

"Are you kidding? It's your birthday, we should celebrate - go out for drinks and do karaoke and-"

Price and Kate shared a knowing look between themselves and shook their heads in defeat. Before being able to ask them what was the matter, Kate closed the laptop and began to stuff the files back into the manilla folders

"Happy birthday, Y/N! We will resume this tomorrow. And now tell me, what kind of oats did you use for the cookies, plain or instant? My wife's been trying to make them this chewy, but she never seems to get the recipe right."

It was your turn to open your mouth in disbelief when you saw Price joining Kate at the table, securing a casserole of oat cookies just for themselves

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?", he asked in a gentle tone, fishing breadcrumbs from his moustache.

"I… It's not that important, I mean…"

You couldn't help but flinch when someone placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly, as if in reassurance. You turned your look to Ghost, who was holding a pink muffin in his gloved hand. His mask was lifted up to his nose, revealing his tight-lipped smile:

"Don't ever say that again, ok? That is all the more reason to celebrate it. You were the one who got us out safe from the bunker after all…"

And you could swear you saw his lips twitching into a smile, a playful glimmer dancing in his eyes as he bit into the cupcake

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astraltrickster · 8 months

Text

Since the wave of mass site migrations there is one REALLY worrisome trend I've been noticing: the number of radfem posts I've been seeing ending up on my dash, reblogged unknowingly by people who think they're just base-level feminist statements, has all but gone back to c.2014 levels. Everything seems good on a surface level, but I spot one dogwhistle, or something strikes me as being a little too absolutist, and I check into that...and sure enough, the road leads back to terf city.

So here's a quick PSA:

Please be careful with your Feminism 101 sources.

See, terfs and their close relatives KNOW we don't like them here, so they don't tend to lead with their well-known hatred of trans women. On top of that, there is a problem with a subset of radfems on this site who purport to be trans-inclusive - i.e., they openly support trans women...but DESPISE trans men (often more than they hate cis men, because of the whole "joining the enemy"/"gender traitor" myth pushed by terfs) or any nonbinary person who aligns partially with manhood or masculinity, especially if they're AMAB (they often think they can "save" - i.e., conversion-therapy - the AFAB ones).

Therefore, on a single-post level, it is very, VERY hard to tell the difference between a basic feminist statement that, yeah, patriarchy exists and that means there are lots of awful double-standards around gender where women broadly get the shorter end of the stick and these standards AFFECT every individual in a society and that's something we should work to change, and a statement that these things are absolute and inevitable, either because Biology or because those double-standards are too deeply ingrained to EVER overcome without giving up and starting over from scratch (whichever is convenient), and the only solution is hardline female wombyn-born-wombyn separatism or at LEAST excluding trans people from public life for, at best, making it too hard to tell who's ~safe~. In fact, sometimes on that single-post basis, they could potentially even be identical - though less frequently than many people thought in the heyday of "OP was a terf so I stole this post but anyway all men are walking rape threats and need to accept that any reasonable person will always hate and fear them on sight".

So what can you, random newbie, do to avoid unwittingly passing one of these messages on without turning into some kind of horrible "feminism is cancer" chud?

Well, one of the easiest ways is the Shinigami Eyes browser extension, but I personally don't like to rely on it because 1) you can't use it on every platform (sorry mobile app likers), 2) in my experience it's somewhat common for "trans-inclusive" radfems to be flagged as safe because someone saw their positivity for trans women but not their hatred for trans men, and 3) I just don't like to promote the use of browser extensions as a substitute for learning what radfem rhetoric is and why it is, in fact, anything but feminist; it is very beneficial to terfs if the ONLY thing you know of their rhetoric is "they hate trans women".

The hard but better way is to actually familiarize yourself with what to look out for. Here is an inexhaustive list:

Category 0: Tags to add to your blacklist

Your blacklist filters out posts with the blacklisted tags in the reblog you're seeing, OR in the root post. Therefore, if a radfem post that looks like it's just base-level feminism does breach containment somehow and end up on your dash through someone else, it will still get caught if it's tagged with any of these:

Terfsafe

Radblr

Radfem

Terfs/radfems do interact/do touch/please interact/please touch, etc

Category 1: Terf-ese and dogwhistles

Some of these, especially those near the top of the list, are immediate telltale signs. Others are less certain, but they should at least raise some eyebrows.

"Gender critical" - literally a synonym for terf just used to make the ideology sound more legitimate; they often claim that terf is a slur

"TIM/TIF" - "Trans-identified male/female", a way to delegitimize trans identities

"Febfem" - female-exclusive bisexual woman; a bisexual woman who rejects her attraction to men; essentially a modern term for "political lesbian" (a group which claimed that lesbianism is not a sexual orientation that some people just Have, but a political choice to reject men)

"Butch flight" - the claim that trans men are butch lesbians transitioning to escape lesbophobia and gain male privilege

"Adult human female" - this very simplified dictionary definition of "woman" is something of a rallying cry

"Let girls be tomboys/butch" - some people say this in response to old repressive gender roles in things like dress codes, or even people holding trans women to a higher standard of femininity than cis women, but if that is not explicitly the context it's very likely that this means "stop the evil plastic surgery racket from force-transing every little girl who even looks at a truck, which they're TOTALLY doing"

The inverse, while less common (terfs tend to be very open about not wanting men to be feminine in any way because of "deception" and "false security"), is also one to look out for - sometimes it's a statement against binarism and gender essentialism, sometimes it's basically an assertion of the Blanchard "feminine homosexual man vs. autogynephilic man" model of what a trans woman is

"Compulsory heterosexuality/comphet" - an aspect of heteronormativity whereby it's common, especially for younger people, to try to force themselves to experience heterosexual attraction when they don't. Useful as it may seem, the term was coined by radfems. Most people who are not terfs or other radfems who want to discuss it will discuss it under the umbrellas of heteronormativity and amatonormativity

Hogwarts houses - this is a sneaky one; far from everyone who read those books or even enjoyed them is a terf, but since JKR's full-tilt descent into fascism via the gateway of transphobia, terfs HAVE been using this as a way to seek out their own and mark themselves as safe; let this also serve as a reminder that if you are NOT a terf PLEASE REMOVE THIS FROM YOUR BIO; it WILL both draw them to you AND cause you to be immediately distrusted by anyone else, saying "I DO NOT CONDONE THE VIEWS OF JKR" will not help because terfs can and do lie about that too in communities where they have to stay crypto, at best you're granting them plausible deniability

Referring to men and women as "males" and "females"

Usernames referencing "female" reproductive anatomy - may be a good sign if they're attached to trans-positive modifiers like "boy" or "they", but a username like "divine-vagina" or "ovariesofpower" (note these are theoretical usernames, not ones I've encountered in the wild; if someone does have one of those usernames and isn't a radfem I'm deeply sorry) is probably a terf

Hatred of makeup and plastic surgery - look, no one likes the beauty industry, no one is going to dispute that beauty standards are a nightmare, but this is frequently a smokescreen for hating gender confirmation or anything that helps with the "deception" inherent to transness; be ESPECIALLY wary of anyone talking about "TikTok plastic surgeons trying to sell their services to impressionable teenage girls", this usually translates to "gender confirmation surgeons telling young transmascs that there are options for them", and remember that you either believe in bodily autonomy or you don't, there is no third option

Category 2: Ideological concepts to look out for

This is some of the beginnings of crossing the line from feminism to radfem bullshit - if the rest of the post seems cool but starts heading in these directions, don't assume it's hyperbole; get it as far away from you as possible.

Patriarchy, men-oppressing-women, is THE root system of injustice from which all others spawn. Some will acknowledge that other factors may intersect, but will still claim that they are lesser. Bringing up the long history of white women getting men of color, especially Black men, killed via weaponized fragility and false claims of sexual violence, is just a series of flukes and pointing it out to refute this notion that men vs. women outranks all other inequalities is just whataboutism.

Because patriarchy is so far-reaching, it affects every individual, and because it trumps all other axes of oppression, this means that in every interaction between any man and any woman, the man will be the one with more power.

Men, due to socialization, biology, or both, are categorically incapable of recognizing women as full people. This is not only a broad pattern, but an inevitable fact, true of every individual man, no matter how hard anyone tries to change it.

There is a singular Universal Female Experience. According to terfs, this is an external force; trans women don't have this socialization experience, therefore they can never truly know what it's like to be a woman. According to tirfs, it is internal; trans men process their experiences internally as men from birth to death and therefore have no claim to truly understand any experience of misogyny directed at them.

The experience of being a woman is, first and foremost, suffering. It is therefore to be expected that a certain subset of people would transition to try to escape it - but it's the wrong answer, and this practice of either self-destruction or betrayal must be stopped at all costs. Anyone who wants in on the miserable experience that is womanhood, on the other hand, is at best insensitively looking at a burning building and going "wow, that looks so warm!", blissfully but cruelly unaware of the misery of the situation, and at worst is lying to satisfy a fetish.

Women are categorically incapable of abusing men, because patriarchy outranks all, down to the individual level. Some may also say that this is true because of biological differences in physical strength. (Very feminist, isn't it, to say "the strongest woman is still weaker than the weakest man and nothing can ever change that"?)

There is, fundamentally, no difference between a person with some subconscious misogyny problems and an incel mass shooter; both will abuse women, and therefore both must be treated as threats.

Because the power differential between men and women is so great, a woman cannot TRULY meaningfully consent to sex with a man; all sex between a man and a woman is rape.

Because rape is such a common trauma among women, the very existence of men - or penises, for that matter, even fully clothed ones - in a space where a woman doesn't expect them is traumatic and itself tantamount to rape.

Lesbians don't just have their own unique flavor of oppression experience like any other queer subgroup; they are in fact THE most uniquely oppressed and vulnerable of all, because being a lesbian is first and foremost not about attraction to women, but rejection of men (recall the ties to political lesbianism). Some radfems will embrace contradictory labels or slightly varied personal definitions for other queer subgroups - but if you're anything but a Kinsey 6 who would never even consider making an exception, and 100% a binary woman, you CAN'T identify as a lesbian. You cannot identify as a lesbian if you wouldn't dump your partner or try to conversion-therapy "her" if "she" came out as transmasc. To a tirf, you cannot identify as a lesbian if you're on the butch-transmasc cusp, if they're willing to admit such a cusp exists in the first place. To terfs, you cannot identify as a lesbian if you would ever date a trans woman, let alone if you ever have.

Again, this is far from being an exhaustive list, but it covers most of the most common things that set off my own alarm bells. Additions are more than welcome.

Remember, the danger of letting radfem posts slide because they seem okay on the surface is twofold: one, you're directing more people to their blogs and exposing them to more people they may then target, and two, when those concepts that cross the line bleed out into your gender theory, the result is bad for you and everyone around you.

#internet culture #internet safety #serious tag #internet bullshittery warning #tumblr culture

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seelestia · 1 year

Text

— ❝𝐎𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐇, 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍!❞

SUMMARY. "oh my gosh, you're literally my dream person!" here's a list of red flags for you, honey. (inspired by a tiktok trend! the one with the soundboard, iykyk.)

CHARACTERS. wanderer, alhaitham, albedo, childe + GN!reader.

GENRE. full-on crack, some fluff, not-so serious and light-hearted character slander.

CW. has heavy refs to albedo's story / 2.3 event and wanderer's story, brief mentions of blood in childe's part (not detailed/graphic), one brief mention of kissing in wanderer's part, light cussing and terrible humor. + read the alt text on the headers for extra captions, hehe!

THOUGHTS. this is my most unserious work yet and for that, i apologize if this gets too unhinged or inaccurate at some point LMAOOO. red flags are fine, red is my fav color anyway (it's actually light purple) <33 can you guess who's the favorite here 🧍‍♂️

✰ masterlist.

[ WANDERER ]

❝Dream person, huh? That's oddly fitting because the day you win me over is only gonna happen in your dreams too.❞

Has some abandonment and mother issues. ...Yeah. These issues may result in emotional walls as strong and firm as the Great Wall of China but when you break through them, he's never ever gonna let you go (unfortunately). I'd tell you to start running but this silly guy can float and zoom in the air, so best of luck.

You'll only hear crickets if you fall asleep on his chest. On the very rare occasions where he allows you to, that is. If you're into that romantic "falling asleep on your lover's chest while listening to their heartbeat" stuff, you're not getting it with Wanderer here. But if you listen hard enough, maybe you'll get to hear termites or something because he's canonically made out of white wood. (I'm joking, I love him too.)

Terrible with feelings. He'd rather jump off a cliff than start talking about his feelings. ...Okay, fine. Harboring humane emotions is an annoyingly blurry line that he has vowed to stop caring about after regaining his memories. It doesn't mean he doesn't cringe at himself every now and then, though — knowing that he has talked about his feelings to someone else (only you and Nahida) keeps him up at night, as embarrassing as it is to admit. ("Hey, do you remember that one time when you told me—" "I don't.")

May prioritize his pride over you sometimes. Let's take a rainy day as an example. It's pouring cats and dogs which means that the risk of catching a cold is high as ever... thus, as the rain begins to soak you, you turn to your companion (whose clothes are saved by the hat on his head) with puppy eyes. His reply comes in the same speed as a lightning strike; "No," he says. Beg and cry if you want, he is not letting you under his hat because it's "not a damn parasol". Fine, maybe he just doesn't care about your well-being and that's totally fine (sarcastic) — but the very next second, as he grabs your wrist and starts dashing to a nearby inn with you in tow — you can't help but let a small smile slip. Maybe he does care? Pride just gets in the way sometimes.

Might accidentally suffocate you when you two kiss because how the heck is he supposed to remember that humans need to breathe when your lips are just so soft for no reason? Ugh, humans and their ridiculous needs (derogatory but he still loves you simp).

Has a long list of crimes and felonies that we don't talk about. Ah, yes, the courtesy of being a previous Fatui Harbinger, indeed. Irminsul may have forgotten about this list, but the Wiki sure as heck hasn't.

[ ALHAITHAM ]

❝So, you consider me someone who fits your type? I see. Unfortunately, knowing whether or not I fit into another person's ideals doesn't have much value to me.❞

Books > people. Is that really a flaw? He doesn't think it is. Books are a source of knowledge and aren't they supplements that enrich the minds of those who read them? Not to mention, there is no need to cater to whatever social standards with inanimate objects unlike when you're around people. ...But apparently, Kaveh told him that this mindset "makes him look like an absolute loner with no social skills and no friends whatsoever" to which he'd usually bite back with an "at least, I have a stable housing." TLDR: books are Alhaitham's closest friends and that's a little sad (he doesn't care about other people's opinions, though).

Unreachable when his soundproof headphones are on. Shush, he is in his official (but not-so-official) 'Do Not Disturb' mode. Sorry in advance, he may or may not accidentally ignore you when his soundproof headphones are on. If you want to have a few words with him, either be patient and wait or make sure they're of absolute importance lest you risk being given the deadliest, emptiest stare ever known to mankind. If looks could kill, you would've keeled on the spot. Instant unintentional (??) homicide, so true of him.

Awkward with small talks. Alhaitham is good at talking about topics that really matter and he very much prefers it that way too. But that's the thing; when the discussion of that particular subject ends, that's it. He often dodges the silence in a 'cool' way, though; either by taking an early leave or bringing out a book if the situation there still needs him present. (In his defense, if no one wants to start and carry the conversation, then isn't it a bit hypocritical to count on him to do that too?)

Physical affection stupefies him (it'll take time). Alhaitham doesn't hate it, no, but something about it just doesn't align much with his sense of familiarity. He usually keeps his distance; even with new acquaintances, shaking hands has never been his thing and it's been a long time since Alhaitham has had someone he feels comfortable enough to receive physical affection from or to give some of it to (his grandmother was the last, maybe). By all means, this isn't meant to be a sob story — it's just brought up to explain that physical affection is a thing he's not familiar with, so it'll take some time to get used to. Good luck to those with physical touch as a preferred love language (me), this feeble scholar who may turn into a stiff log when you hug him is in your capable hands!

[ ALBEDO ]

❝Is that a compliment of some kind? I must say it's certainly not one I hear very often, thus I feel inclined to appreciate it all the more. Thank you.❞

Has a lab located in Dragonspine. Yes, this is a red flag because look me in the eyes and tell me you would realistically travel up that death trap of a mountain every single time just to spend time with him. He comes down from the mountain at least twice or thrice a month, so you'll still get to see his pretty face regardless, just not as frequently — so, it's either you exchange letters every week or you go trekking up Dragonspine to see him yourself. (There is a better place to die on than that wretched mountain, but I digress.)

His mother caused world destruction and he has a twin brother that is out for blood (Imposterbedo). ...Seriously, what the heck is going on in this family? We need to keep an eye on them like they're fascinating wild animals on National Geographic, for real. If you don't mind crazy in-laws that might commit felonies against you (also looking intently at Alice as I say this, by the way), then you're all good to go! Aha, just watch your back and be safe out there, comrade.

Babysitting Klee comes as a 2-in-1. If you're good with kids, great! If you're not, good luck! You know what they all say; a child's curiosity is only limited by the skies (and a guardian's supervision), so be prepared for when Klee starts tugging you around to go fish blasting or exploring with her. Being with Albedo means you get to see her a lot and she's such an adorable ball of sunshine! But the way she innocently hands you a little bomb like it's a slice of Fisherman's Toast and not a weapon is certainly something to remember, huh? (At this point, this is basically an extra to my previous point about questionable in-laws.)

Eats spiders (not often, but has eaten them and that's concerning). Granted this only applies to a specific type of large spiders that can be found at the roots of Petrified Trees in Domains (in the words of the Chief Alchemist himself), but there will definitely be a time where he goes: "Are you hungry? If I remember correctly, there are still some smoked spiders left from the other day. Fortunately, the temperature here in Dragonspine aids in the preservation method—" Spiders can be cute to some and a nightmare to some, but the fact that he has a whole recipe for it really makes you want to know the how and most importantly, the why. Does he sprinkle parsley on them or some stuff like that, ayo? (at least, if you ever get stuck in a domain one unlucky day, this recipe might help you survive? thanks??)

[ CHILDE ]

❝Oh? I've never been called a dream person before. ...Heh, that sounds new, I like the sound of that!❞

Thinks combat and battles are a better substitute for oxygen. Okay, that may be somewhat of an exaggeration — but it isn't an understatement to say that the thought of challenge rushes the blood into Tartaglia's veins. Not one for the secretive schemes most Harbingers do, this man would even go charging ahead if that guarantees he'll encounter a good fight. Like seriously, if he and a fellow Harbinger are heading to a place where there is a good opponent, you bet Childe is about to speed there first. You could say he is speeding towards uncertain death, essentially.

Might have come home with blood on his cheek once or twice. And what's worse is that this guy probably doesn't even realize it's there. Sorry, he was just too caught up in the moment to properly notice any leftover 'trophies' from his previous fights... Aha, don't worry about it! ("I'm home!" Tartaglia cheers loudly as he, quite literally, throws open the front door to your shared home — only to be greeted by that dumbfounded look on face. "Please tell me that's just juice on your cheek," you frown. He scratches the side of his neck awkwardly, "Uhh. Things didn't go particularly well when I was collecting debts.")

A warrior in the streets, also a malewife who can make you treats. Why does he have that double side for, huh? For other people to swoon over and fall for? No way someone can be a househusband and a good fighter simultaneously. What do you mean he can cook and clean then beat up anyone who threatened you the next? And you're saying he is genuine about it too? I say deception, deception, deception! Sue this fellow for fraud this instant. (This might actually be a green flag in disguise, but you didn't hear that from me.)

No good with saving money. He's stinky rich and most of it might be from the Fatui. You have to wonder whether each Mora he gives goes on the Fatui's tab or something like that... You don't find the idea of owing something to the Fatui fun, but it's so ironic how you're more worried about this than the Eleventh Harbinger is. Welp, at least, you don't have to worry incessantly about saving money now...? ("There's that thing you said you wanted to buy the other day, right? Here you go, honey!" "Tartaglia, why is this Mora pouch heavier than a toddler—")

Has a long list of crimes and felonies that we don't talk about #2. You could definitely argue that Childe might have the least mind-boggling list of crimes amongst the Harbingers all, though. (And does he slay for that? Who knows.)

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @hcikazu @tsuk4sa-yug1 @catcze @semi-orangeapple @yuuki4646 @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @daisydkj @omgscaramouche @coquettemaiden @lemontum @herdrops @lleoll @xiaosonlybeloved @chiisananingen @irethepotato @ainescribe @blooodyvampy @starlightaura @jihyuniepark @duhsies @maybemiko @lordbugs — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged (check your settings!) + register here to be a part of my taglist! ]

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #alhaitham x reader #albedo x reader #childe x reader #genshin crack #genshin fluff #genshin hcs #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #seelestial.inks

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gaylordscooter · 11 days

Text

Where Fate Leads Us

Killer, Dust and Horror were in Killer's room, folding the multitude of clothes.

“don't expect me to do more of the chores around here just because you two offered to help me,” Killer said.

“sure, you'll be too busy with laundry anyway,” Horror chuckled.

“i literally will,” he said in full seriousness. He placed the shirt he folded onto the stack of shirts in his closet that was getting taller than he was standing. “i know i’ve joked that you two ain’t allowed to borrow my clothes—but yeah, please take some of these. i didn't expect there to be this much.”

“eh, it's not my style,” Horror shrugged, holding a pair of ripped jeans.

“horror, bud. please.”

Horror shook his head, “shouldn't have gotten so many clothes, man.”

“i swear nightmare gave me more than i grabbed.”

“that's definitely not true.”

“dust, back me up.”

Dust did not back him up.

Killer sighed, looking at his hubris that was the closet filled to the brim with stacks of clothing. He wouldn't have to do laundry that often if he washed all his clothes once he ran out of clean ones, but that would take so long. Eh, he’ll worry about it later.

They didn't see Nightmare until they started to eat dinner. He arrived without a word, keeping his gaze forward and away from the three as he walked over to the door to the hallway.

Killer dropped his fork upon seeing him.

A good amount of the goop on his body was gone, as if half of his body was washed off. Or scorched off. Something smelled burnt.

What surprised Killer the most was seeing his skull. He was a skeleton and he looked like him. He didn't expect that.

Nightmare spared a quick glance at Killer as he tried to walk faster. His gait was erratic, akin to limping. What little slime there was formed slim tendrils by his legs that he used as support to walk.

The three stayed silent until a few moments after he left.

“he looks younger than me,” Killer said.

But rather than questioning it, the three decided to drop it there.

They didn’t see much of Nightmare until a whole week later.

They were sitting at one of the tables in the Great Hall, conversing with each other. Soon enough the topic steered over to Nightmare.

“nightmare hasn't put us through anything recently, huh? not even a game of uno,” Horror said. Last time there was a dip in activity, he was paranoid, but he was oddly calm about it this time. Seeing Nightmare's other form changed the way he saw him, he supposed. It was easier to personify him. “what do you two think he's up to?”

Dust merely shrugged. Either because he didn't feel like talking or because he really didn't have a clue.

Killer seemed lost in thought, before speaking up, “he apologized.”

“huh?” Horror cocked his head.

“he apologized, for putting us through all that shit. maybe he meant it?” That apology would be worth nothing if he continued to do it, after all. Which is what he was expecting, but it's been a whole week since then and he has yet to tell them to do anything.

“he actually apologized? that's hilarious,” Horror said.

“i think he was being genuine, but i wonder why he’s been out more often.”

The obvious conclusion to this behavior would be that he's planning something, but none of them jumped to it. Perhaps they were beginning to trust him.

They were also all in a good mood today.

Killer was able to get a good night’s sleep and woke up well-rested for once. He had a good breakfast consisting of ungodly amounts of buttered toast, tended to the cats, and now he was hanging out with the other two. It was a solid day.

Dust also appeared to be in a lighter mood. He was chatty by his standards and overall more relaxed. It was like less stuff was on his mind.

Horror didn't feel on edge constantly, almost feeling how he used to before the core went kaput. It was as if he felt safe, almost.

In fact, they’ve been in a good mood this whole past week. If their year-ago selves saw them now they'd find this weird and crazy.

“though, he always comes and goes in such a hurry…”

As if on cue, Nightmare entered the hall, throwing the doors open in a dramatic fashion that called for attention. He only had four tentacles out at the moment. That was half the usual amount.

“Hello,” he greeted. “How has everyone been today?” He has never asked that question before. He was being friendlier, perhaps.

“i’m doin’ good,” Killer answered without a second thought.

“‘m fine,” Horror said.

Dust nodded, indicating he felt the same.

Nightmare hid his smile. “I see, carry on then.” He left the hall, sinking into the ground to reappear in his room.

It was happening.

He felt incredibly weak at the moment, sure, but it would all pay off. He just needed to be patient.

He collapsed on his bed, reverting to his normal “passive” form as the protector of the multiverse called it. He was nearing the end of his plan. He will enact the last step tomorrow. He had to. If his exhaustion was anything to go by, he was running out of time.

The next morning, Killer was first to wake up. Another night of feeling well rested. It was a miracle. He sat up and stretched before getting up to throw on a change of clothes.

He went out to the hall, glancing at Horror and Dust’s doors before heading over to the kitchen.

He opened the pantry only to be met with nothing but chocolate bars. Instead of getting annoyed or mad he laughed.

He shut the pantry and composed himself. Why did he find it funny? Nightmare definitely targeted him with that one—No, it was just coincidence.

It was?

Killer shook his head trying to snap himself out of whatever was happening.

Something was happening, right? Something was off.

Nothing was off. He was just being silly.

He scratched the back of his head, opting to open the fridge.

And there was nothing but ketchup.

He slammed the door shut. Laughter erupted from his metaphorical throat. He ended up collapsing to the floor from how hard he was laughing.

He couldn't breathe. He didn't need to breathe.

But his chest still hurt. No it didn't. He couldn't feel pain.

Everything was fine.

His soul snapped into a target shape. He gasped for air and scrambled up to stand. It was like cold water was dumped onto him.

Something’s wrong, he tested the thought. Nothing came to counter it.

Something was messing with his head. For how long? Oh god, for how long?

Where the hell was Dust and Horror?! He wasn't ever the first to arrive in the kitchen, let alone first to wake up.

A cackle echoed throughout the area as the kitchen warped and twisted. The floorboards underneath him cracked and splintered, revealing dark nothingness beneath. The patterns on the wall had eyes, all glaring at him.

What the fuck was happening?

He choked out a breath, rushing over to the door that led to the hall. The door itself looked normal but when he grabbed the doorknob he couldn't let go of it, as if it grabbed back.

Was he still dreaming? Was this a hallucination?

The door flung open. He still couldn't let go of the handle.

It was Nightmare.

“Good morning, Killer,” he said calmly, as if their surroundings weren't collapsing in on itself. “Leaving the kitchen so soon? You haven't even eaten yet. Was the food not to your liking? But I picked it out just for you.” It sounded like his voice was coming from all directions. It was disorienting to say the least.

His eye, along with the eyes on the walls darted to his soul. He looked disappointed when he noticed its shape. He tsked, “After all the work I’ve put in, the stubborn thing is still unstable?”

“wh-what the hell are you talking about?” he rasped.

Nightmare snatched his soul with one of his hands. He leered down at it like a predator stalking its prey. He molded it with his hands back into the shape of a normal monster soul while Killer keened.

Killer grit his teeth as his emotions hit him at full force. It was now that he realized the unusual happiness he felt these past few days was not normal. That had to be Nightmare's doing.

That's why he thought he trusted him.

“you,” he growled, “you asshole!”

Nightmare merely drank up his anger with an amused expression. “Yes? Is that anything new?” he asked.

“fuck you!”

“Using big boy words now, aren't we?”

“i hate you.”

Nightmare was unfazed by the comment. “Tell me something I don't know.”

The door, along with the handle keeping Killer captive, suddenly disappeared. However, he still couldn't move. It was like he had sleep paralysis.

But unfortunately, he knew the demon was real.

“Do you want to know something funny? It isn’t just that I gain energy from negativity, positive emotions hurt. They sting like pouring acid on a wound as you wrench it open. But it was all worth enduring just to see the look of betrayal on your face.”

He was foolish. He was an idiot. He was an utter idiot!

Nightmare's smile spread impossibly wide across his face, curling up at the edges as he took in all of Killer's anguish. He was reveling in it.

“The best part, you were right to be untrusting. And then you second guessed yourself, leading to your downfall. It's pathetically hilarious.”

Killer wanted to wipe that smug face off so badly.

“I may not be able to force people to be happy like my brother, but I can maintain what is there by taking away your ability to feel anything negative. Isn't that fascinating? Your happiness was real. I tore that away from you.”

He felt sick. He felt utterly sick.

“I wonder. Do you think you three were the first ones?”

There was too much liquid determination leaking from his sockets. He retched, leaving a puddle on the torn up ground. He coughed more out, trying to prevent himself from choking on it.

Nightmare watched the display in amusement. He leaned down, reaching a hand out to caress the side of his face in a false display of affection. “Oh, Killer,” he cooed, voice sickly sweet, “You're getting my floors dirty.”

His touch was painful. It trudged up old and awful memories. He imagined that this is what everyone he killed felt when he dealt the final blow. With effort, he managed to tilt his head away from his hand.

Nightmare withdrew his hand, wiping it on his cloak as if Killer was covered in dirt.

“Oh mortals, so easy to fool. You pretend not to know things, ask questions and suddenly you seem less of a threat. He's ignorant to the world. So innocent. Surely he’s just misguided.”

Killer’s breath hitched. He tried not to break down in front of him. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. He couldn't. Usually it was second nature to suppress his emotions, but it was too much now.

God, it was all an act for a false sense of security. He played with them like dolls and now he was tossing them out. What was going to happen now? Was he going to kill him?

Back then he wouldn't have cared about that. But now, he wanted to live. He had people he cared about again.

Did he already kill Dust and Horror?

“You're crying,” he said with false concern. “Be grateful you're able to. The others and your cats didn't even have the chance to.”

“NO!” Killer cried at the implications. The dam broke as he sobbed audibly. He clutched at his head, digging his fingers into his skull. He was hyperventilating. “no, you didn't. you didn’t—no.” He collapsed to his knees, shaking as he repeated his words of disbelief.

“You're alone, Killer,” he said in a tone that was a mockery of comfort. His sadness was euphoric. “You know, you were always my favorite out of the bunch.”

Killer was hardly listening now, too wracked with grief to hear.

“Because I knew how satisfying it would be to build you back up, just to tear you down again.”

And it was satisfying. Killer served him a mess of emotions in a cocktail just for him.

This is what he wanted. This is what he was made for. Was the multiverse finally happy with him?

Everything went dark. Killer shut his eye sockets tight and braced himself for certain death.

“Goodbye,” Nightmare growled.

When he opened them, he saw white. He had to blink his sockets until they adjusted to the brightness. Was this the afterlife? It was so empty.

And quiet.

He stayed on the ground, unable to find the effort to stand. So that was it, huh? He thought he was given a second chance. He was given back control over his life—but that was just a mere illusion. They were all his puppets in the end. He was just good at hiding their strings.

He couldn’t deny the sense of betrayal he felt. It was funny, he knew he couldn’t trust him.

He was still crying. There was a stain on the ground now created by the liquid determination pouring from his sockets.

He remembered when he thought dying would bring him peace, but now he was mourning all the things he was unable to do. He already missed Dust and Horror.

He laid on the ground for a little while, numb to the passage of time.

“—and there's the third. Hey man, you good?” A voice spoke.

Killer jolted and staggered to his feet. He looked around the area frantically, not finding anyone nearby—until he looked down. He screamed and backed away on instinct.

It was another skeleton, notably shorter than him, but still looked like a Sans regardless. However, this one dressed drastically different from any Sans he’s seen. He wore a scarf around his neck, some kind of crop top over a white tank top, long brown gloves that only covered his ring and pinky finger, and a brown jumpsuit worn like pants with the sleeves tied around his waist. It was safe to say he was a fashion disaster.

He raised his hands to show he was empty handed and meant no harm. “It's okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The way he spoke reminded Killer of how he’d talk to a scared cat. Another sharp pang hit his soul as he remembered that he’ll never be able to see his cats again. “who the hell are you?” he asked, voice raw from all his screaming.

The skeleton looked confused at the question but answered anyway, “The name’s ink.” He did a dorky pose where he pointed to himself as he said that.

“so i’m not dead?” he questioned aloud.

“I sure hope you aren't. Your friends would be sad.”

Killer narrowed his eyes warily. “what friends?”

“Two sanses like you, one had a red eye and the other had his hood covering his face. They asked if i saw you.”

“when did you see them?! they're alive?” Hope kindled in his soul before he had the chance to be cautious.

“They are. I took them over to the hub just a bit ago,” Ink explained. “I can take you to them.”

“please!” Killer hastily said. He didn't even know what the “hub” was but all he knew is that he needed to get over to Dust and Horror now.

He reached his hand out to him.

Killer grabbed it without hesitation.

Ink’s scarves moved like prehensile tails and painted the ground beneath them which promptly turned into a hole.

The two of them fell, startling Killer, but fortunately once they got close to the ground, Ink slowed their fall by floating somehow.

He let go of his hand once they landed.

They were in a whole different world. His eye sockets widened. He looked around the new area and saw a multitude of unfamiliar people.

“killer?”

He whipped his head in the direction of the voice. His face lit up upon seeing Horror and Dust. “guys!” he shouted. He bolted over to the two, tackling them down into a hug.

“you're both alive!” he exclaimed. He clung to the two of them like a koala. “i thought nightmare killed you guys.”

“we thought nightmare killed you.” Horror patted his back comfortingly while Dust simply hugged him back.

Killer ended the hug and stood up after a bit, helping the two up. “i’m so glad it was a bluff,” he said in relief. “fuck, what an asshole.”

“what did he do to you? it looks like you were doused with black paint.”

Killer glanced down at his clothes. Sure enough there were black stains. He didn't really want to think about what happened, but even as he did he found it hard to describe. “well, first of all, everything was fucked up like i was having a bad trip, and then he gloated about killing you two and then i thought he killed me.” It was a really poor summary, but he believed he got the point across.

“and what’s up with all that?” Horror gestured to the black stains that trailed from his face to his shirt.

“i threw up,” Killer said, trying to wipe off the dried determination near his teeth.

Horror absentmindedly wiped his own shirt. He was transparently concerned.

“Woah woah woah, what the hell are these three doing here?!” a new voice shouted.

The three of them snapped their attention to the unfamiliar person, making him freeze in place as a result.

Killer noticed that Ink was next to him.

He was yet another Sans, slightly taller than Ink but shorter than the three of them. He wore a torn-up lab coat over a blue-gray shirt, navy blue pants, blueish-green gloves and boots of supposedly the same rubber-like material. He also wore a bandana the same color as his boots and gloves around his neck.

In short, he looked like a nerd.

Ink told him something too quietly for them to catch.

The nerd-looking Sans, gave them a weird look before daring to walk over to them with Ink trailing behind. He reached his hand out for a handshake. “Hi,” he said simply.

No one made a move to return the handshake.

“Don't any of you know how to greet a new pal?” The way he said that felt practiced. And then he snickered and dropped his hand. “So none of you remember those times you almost killed me? Cool. That's great. The name’s Blue.”

The three exchanged glances amongst themselves, seeing if any of them recognized this “Blue”. Nope, none of them did.

None of them felt inclined to introduce themselves either.

Blue tugged at his bandana awkwardly and then swiveled around to Ink. “do they have to be here?”

Ink rolled his eyelights. “Yes, it's a thing.”

“Like how Dream bursting into flames and turning into some eldritch angel for a bit was a thing?”

Ink didn't even have to reply.

“Of course it is,” he sighed. He turned back around. “Anyway!” The increase in volume made the three flinch, but Blue didn't seem to notice. “Welcome to the hub! This is a place of refuge for people who’s universes have been destroyed or sucked badly, et cetera, et cetera, don't kill anyone here and you'll be provided a home along with food and water, probably.”

They were all disoriented by this change of pace. So they really were just going to live somewhere completely different now. Said somewhere being populated with many other people.

This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

Horror looked uncertain while Dust looked uncomfortable. Killer, on the other hand, looked elated.

“guys this means we're free. we’re free from nightmare!” he realized. “you're not gonna torture us, are you?” he asked Blue.

“Oh god no,” he replied, sounding repulsed.

Killer pumped his fist in the air as if that was a plus instead of the bare minimum.

Blue looked to the side awkwardly. “So then, Ink here will find you guys a place to stay and if you have any questions you can ask me, or Cross and Chara. Those two are the ones who founded the place after all, but they aren't here right now, unfortunately.”

“where can we get some food?” Killer asked. Hunger decided to hit him now and it was likely Dust and Horror were hungry too. None of them got to eat breakfast, to his knowledge.

“Oh, there's a Grillby’s—”

“anything but a grillby’s?” he sounded a bit desperate asking that.

“I gotcha covered!” Ink chimed in, nudging Blue aside. “I can get you guys whatever you want. I’ll get you guys a room first. Follow me.” He walked off towards the buildings in the distance.

There were a lot of other people around the area. A good amount were also skeletons. For the most part, they’d mind their own business, only glancing at them from time to time as they followed Ink.

Dust avoided looking at everyone, especially trying to make himself look small when nearing a Papyrus.

At one point Horror came to a sudden halt with a horrified expression.

There was an Undyne and Alphys, the two clearly together, nearby.

“what? you hate love or something?” Killer snickered.

Horror pulled his tattered hood on. “don't joke with me right now, killer,” he grumbled.

Killer went quiet and kept his head down. He hoped they were almost there. He kept looking at the buildings as they walked along trying to find one that looked remotely like the place they would stay. He realized that, while Horror and Dust seemed bothered by seeing different versions of people they knew, he saw all of these guys as mere strangers. Try as he might, when he sees a Papyrus he doesn't feel anything and can only go off of vague memories to know that he should be feeling something more.

He hesitated to kill his Papyrus. Why did he look at these other versions of him and feel nothing towards them?

He remembered when Nightmare brought a Papyrus to the castle and when they hugged. He didn't feel that much back then either, but he chalked that up to his soul being on the fritz.

“We're here!” Ink finally said. “Well, this is where Horror’ll stay—if you guys want to be separate, that is.”

The building they were in front of looked like an actual house rather than an apartment.

“how the hell do you know my name?”

“Your brother told me, duh,” Ink said as if he should’ve known already.

“my brother?! is he here?” Horror questioned. He looked like he’d strangle Ink if he was joking with him.

Ink pointed to the building with his thumb. “He’s living in there with a few others from your world. I think he's in there right now.”

Horror approached the door and knocked.

“Who’s there?”

That was Toriel’s voice.

“amish,” he answered.

“Amish who?”

“I missed you too.”

Toriel laughed, thankfully. He was pretty rusty on his knock knock jokes. He wasn't sure that one would land.

The door opened a few seconds later.

Toriel looked healthier and less burdened. Her fur was well taken care of rather than matted like it was the last time he saw her. She also had new robes that were much more vibrant in color. She smiled fondly at him. “Hello, Sans.”

He couldn't believe this was real. “heya, toriel.”

He heard a stampede coming from behind her as the whole gang from Grillby’s went up to the door. A chorus of “Sans!” rang out.

“‘sup, guys?” He was surprised to see that all of them were staying in the house.

Many of them were saying things like “we thought you died” and “where the hell have you been?”.

Everyone looked a lot livelier.

Papyrus managed to push himself out from the crowd, Toriel stepping aside to let him get closer to his brother.

Papyrus looked more like his old self. There weren't any more blood stains on him, but his teeth were still crooked. His outfit was completely different. He was wearing what appeared to be a red-orange knitted sweater with the text “Cool Dude” embroidered in white in the middle of it. His jagged neck was exposed without his cape on.

Soon enough, Sans was off the ground and lifted into the air by Papyrus as he brought him into a tight hug. “I KNEW I’D SEE YOU AGAIN!” he said excitedly.

“missed you too, bro. i hope you weren't too bonely without me.”

Papyrus let out a sob at his joke, but not in annoyance but rather joy.

“you good?”

“I MISSED YOUR PUNS,” he admitted. “IT WASN’T THE SAME WHEN TORIEL WOULD MAKE THEM.”

“you dead serious? of corpse toriel can't hold a candle to me, she’s just not as humerus. no body’s funnier than a skeleton like me.”

Toriel snickered at his rapid-fire jokes.

“AND IT’S WORN OFF! I NO LONGER MISS THEM,” he said lightheartedly. He set Sans down carefully. “WOWIE, YOUR CLOTHES SURE ARE…SOMETHING.”

Right, he practically was dressed in tattered rags.

“I THINK I HAVE SOME OF YOUR CLOTHES PACKED IN MY ROOM. DOGARESSA SAID I WAS OVER PACKING BUT I KNEW I WAS RIGHT TO BRING THEM!” he raised his voice even louder as he mentioned Dogaressa. “COME INSIDE, I’LL SHOW YOU OUR ROOM!” Papyrus walked back inside the house eagerly.

Sans smiled but paused before taking a step in. He looked back to Dust and Killer, who were watching his reunion.

“Are those friends of yours?” Toriel asked.

Friends. He doesn't think any of them have called each other a friend before.

“uh, yeah,” he said quietly.

“Why not introduce them to us?” she suggested.

He never thought about the possibility of introducing Killer and Dust to them. He wasn't sure how something like that would go. Their names themselves would be off-putting. He motioned for them to come over.

They looked hesitant, as if they weren't sure if he really did want them to come over. Eventually, they bit the bullet and started walking over.

“Hello there,” Toriel greeted. “I take it, you two are friends of Sans?”

Man, they've killed different versions of everyone inside that house, Killer thought awkwardly. “yup, the name’s killer.”

She seemed to be more concerned with his odd soul than his name. To her credit, she didn't question either. “My name is Toriel, it is nice to meet you.” She looked at Dust, who was probably sweating bullets underneath his hood. “And you are?”

Dust kept his hands in his pockets and his gaze downward as if the ground was very interesting.

“oh uh, he doesn't talk. we call him…” Killer desperately tried to think of any other name to call him that didn’t literally mean corpse. “dusk.”

“It is nice to meet you as well, Dusk.”

“Nice of you guys to get acquainted,” Ink said, appearing behind the two skeletons. “Now if you don't mind, you two, we gotta get a move on. I’m a busy skeleton.”

“right, we’ll see you around,” Killer said. “bye, h—sans.”

Sans waved goodbye and went inside the house after his brother.

“Farewell,” Toriel said and then closed the door.

Ink led them to a hotel building a few blocks away from the house. The walk was quiet and lackluster.

That is, until Killer realized something. “hang on.”

“Hm?”

“you said horror’s brother told you his name.”

“Yup!” he confirmed.

“Horror’s brother doesn't know he's called that.”

Ink looked like he was caught robbing a bank, and then he laughed it off. “Wow, it took you that long to notice that? Anyway,” he gestured to the hotel, “this is where you two will be staying.”

“don’t just change topics—”

“I don't have time to explain to you who I am and how I know literally everything about you. Like how you're gonna ask me if you're gonna share a room with Dusk and then you'll get sad when I tell you ‘well I did have two rooms prepared’ and then stupidly happy when I say ‘but if you want you guys can share a room’.”

Killer looked mortified. What the hell was this guy’s deal? Could he see the future?

Ink handed him a key. “Anyway, here's your room key, it's on the second floor. Yes there's two beds but I doubt you need the extra one—”

“hey.”

“Have fun.” His scarf painted a hole in the ground and he jumped into it.

Killer sighed, inspecting the key in his hand. It had the room number on it, fortunately. “c’mon, man,” he said to Dust.

The two of them walked into the hotel, which thankfully didn't have anyone in the lobby at the moment. They were able to get in their room without any interruptions.

The moment Killer locked the door shut, Dust threw himself onto one of the beds with a sigh.

“how you holding up, dust?”

“don't call me that,” he muttered angrily.

“oh.” He went over to sit on the other bed, proving Ink wrong. “so is ‘dusk’ fine?”

He didn't protest, so he assumed it was a yes. It was funny, they hardly sounded different. In fact, Killer came up with that name because it sounded similar.

Was it because of the meaning behind the words or because of the person who gave him the name that made the difference? Killer knew it was more likely to be the former.

Dusk laid on the bed lifelessly, as if he was an actual dead skeleton.

Killer couldn't blame him. The only reason he wasn't breaking down was because someone else was in the room, and he was getting tired of all this emotional turmoil.

He heard a knock at the door. “i’m going to stab whoever's outside if you don't make like a tree and fuck off,” he threatened.

“Geez! I just brought you guys some food. It's lumpia. I’ll leave it at the door,” that sounded like Blue.

Killer waited a bit until he got up to open the door. There was a bag of takeout on the ground. He picked it up and shut the door, locking it again.

Inside the containers was a food he didn't recognize. thank god, he would've snapped if it was Grillby’s. He left one of the containers on Dusk’s bedside counter.

He ate like a starving animal, pleased to find out that the “lumpia”, as Blue called it, was pretty good. Honestly, he’d eat literal dirt but that didn't stop him from appreciating well-cooked food.

He heard Dusk sit up and grab the container on his bedside counter.

They ate in silence for a bit.

“i’m glad you're not dead,” Dusk said eventually.

Killer snickered, “me too.” He realized how that came out. “i’m also glad that you're alive, i mean.”

He saw him smiling underneath his hood.

“i dunno if my cats are okay, though. even if he doesn't hurt them directly…who's gonna take care of them?” His smile faltered.

Dusk put the container back and got up to sit next to him. He thought of what to say. He wasn’t that good at comforting people in the past and he definitely wasn’t good at it now. “they were strays, right? they’ll probably be able to fend for themselves.”

“god, i hope so.” That wasn’t even taking into account the possibility that Nightmare himself will hurt them. Killer supposed he never explicitly said he killed anyone, and the other two turned out to be fine, but that didn’t stop him from fearing the worst.

He felt Dusk’s arm awkwardly wrap around him. Instinctively he turned to hug him back.

Maybe they’ll end up okay.

#utmv fic #nightmare sans #killer sans #horror sans #dust sans

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thegoldencontracts · 1 month

Note

Hullo! If you're taking fic requests, may I politely ask for an 'x Azul' one involving Azul getting really invested in market research for something a little pointless? Maybe it's trying twenty different kinds of olive to see which makes the best garnish, maybe it's minor variations on their standard cloth napkins as sorted by softness, who knows? Just something he makes the MC test for him and he's very lucky MC loves him enough to put up with it.

Of course, something has to go wrong eventually. Maybe teaming up with the tweels to end the constant stream of tests? Shenanigans are always welcome~ hehehe.

Thank you for your time!

Of course! Azul my belovedd <3 Anyways, thank you for the request, and a little note to anyone reading that I appreciate any and all requests!

Of Much Importance

Summary: Azul is a man of business, even when that business-matter involves making his dearly beloved test out dishes for him. Except, he's making you test to see how many flakes of chili is optimal? Flakes?

Unless you do something, you're going to be here forever - or until your stomach bursts.

Notes: Fluff, and some humor, a bit of flirting

"Darling," Azul - your lovely, lovely boyfriend you who you were on the verge of murdering if it weren't for the fact that he had superstrength, and the twins were actually surprisingly protective when he was badly hurt, and you loved him too much - said, holding yet another plate of the same guacamole but with one more chili flakes. "Does this one taste better?"

You were at a seat in the currently closed Lounge, which would've meant no one would hear him scream if you punched him, but of course, the twins were sitting at the next table, being subjected to the same thing as you.

It tastes the exact same because this is literally the exact same dish with one more chili flakes. You think anyone'll notice that, Azul? You wanted to say.

Instead, you just tried to appease him. He seemed pretty stressed, and for good reason. Finals were coming up, and that meant a surge of new contracts for him, and a surge of sleepless nights, if the way his concealer had gotten heavier said anything. He was zoning in on every little detail, and you understood why. That didn't make it any less frustrating.

"I'm sure it's fine-"

"No." Azul said, sounding way too intense for someone talking about a singular chili flake. "This is sub-optimal. I must conduct further research. I apologize, but I will temporarily leave."

"Bye," you said, trying not to sound too happy.

Finally, a break for your stomach! Your poor, poor stomach. You still remembered how this all started.

"Darling, would you mind taste-testing a few new recipes for me?"

"Of course not!"

You thought it would be easy. You were so, so wrong. Because those 'few' recipes were actually over a hundred. And those recipes were the exact same guacamole with one more chili flake each time.

You hated guacamole now. The next time you saw an avocado, you'd have an aneurysm.

As you lamented, the twins entered your field of vision. Here to float, you guessed.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh at me," you said, but neither of them were laughing. Jade had his polite smile, but it was strained. His eye was twitching.

Finally, Floyd spoke up.

"I can't take this anymore!" He said. "You gotta find a way to make him stop!"

They were suffering too? You guys were companions in misery?

"Jade?" You asked.

"I'm afraid I must agree," he said. "This is becoming much too trying for me to bear. I fear my stomach may no longer be able to contain this food."

So, you really were cohorts in misery. The question was, now what? What did you do? Azul could come back any moment.

"Do you have a plan then?"

Please let them have a plan, please. You couldn't take this anymore.

Silence. You were beginning to lose hope when Floyd spoke up.

"Flirt with him," he said, sounding way too serious considering what he was suggesting.

That was his best idea? Flirting?

Wait.

Azul was great at being suave, but maybe he couldn't take what he dished out. In fact, he probably couldn't take what he dished out.

"Floyd."

"Yeah?"

"Has anyone told you you're a genius?" You asked.

"All the time," Floyd said, though he didn't seem smug. "Hate it. They keep telling me to apply myself. Usually the thing they're telling me to do's super boring."

Oh, right. Floyd was actually a savant.

"Get back to your seats. We can't look too suspicious," you said, and the twins nodded, scampering back to their seats.

Just in time, because at that moment, Azul walked back into the restaurant, carrying another plate of guacamole with him.

"Is this one better?" He said, but this time, instead of appeasing him, you stood up, leaning in close. It was time for you to use that dating-sim knowledge.

"How do you expect me to focus on the food when I've got the most gorgeous man this world has to offer staring at me?"

Azul flushed, turning away with a huff.

"Regardless of the falsehood of that statement, it is entirely irrelevant to this conversation," he said. That wouldn't do. You weren't going to let him get out of this.

"Now, now," you said, hooking an arm around his shoulder. "Don't deny it, darling."

In an attempt to maintain his composure, Azul looked away. You just hooked a finger under his chin to combat that.

"Don't deny me the privilege of watching you lose your composure like this, Azul," you said, enjoying every second of this.

"I, er-"

You leaned in, puckering your lips. Azul scrunched his eyes shut in anticipation.

But nothing happened. After a while, Azul finally opened his eyes, and you couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"You- you looked hilarious!" You said. "All red n' blushy. I should really do this more often."

Azul scowled, swatting you away.

"Leave at once," he said, though there wasn't any bite to his voice. "I shall go to my room and continue this endeavor in private."

No more guacamole? No more guacamole! Yes! Victory, at last.

"Of course." As you left, you could see Jade and Floyd give you a thumbs up.

Back in your room, but you couldn't help but smile. As irritating as this whole endeavor had been - and as bad as it was for your stomach - you couldn't deny that this new side to Azul was one you enjoyed.

You really would have to do this more often.

#azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x you #fluff #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #twisted wonderland #gn reader #fanfic #jade leech #floyd leech

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randomsufff · 6 months

Text

I’m back Michie girlies and this has been on the dome for a while but I’ve been seeing people mention it and at least one fic has executed this idea (“I once was his tutor” I salute you 🫡) but I need to just present this idea anyways because it has COOKED for a while-

I think it would be absolutely fucking hilarious if Max had started treating Richie the way he did Grace. Like the whole, dumb himbo act where he laughs real hard at non-jokes and tries to rizz Richie up as he’s going to class.

In my head- this is connected to the “Richie tutors Max” universe, so in my mind- Richies been helping him out and he’s been getting to know the guy, Max either: 1) eventually realizes how much of a capital P Prude Grace is OR (the funnier option I think) 2) Grace, in her want to get thoughts of Max Jäegerman out of her head, goes so far in the opposite direction that she somehow accidentally sleeps with a woman and is no longer “forbidden fruit” as Max puts it. (Insert side story of Grace battling internalized homophobia as she developed a friends-with-benefits turned maybe actual relationship with…. idk Deb or Alice or someone.) Cue Max looking at Richie and being like “I can totally seduce this nerd, my skills aren’t lacking just because I couldn’t get Grace.. this is 100% not me subconsciously really liking the dude and wanting to genuinely date him and knowing no other way to outwardly express this”

ANYWAYS- point is I need Max to try to flirt with Richie in that himbo way that he did with Grace-and I need Richie “This projects on thermodynamics… what the fuck are you talking about???” Lipshitz to just be constantly confused on what’s happening to him.

AND THEN when he finally realizes that Max is trying to get with him, I need Mr. Richie “has definitely never been with or slept with anyone and is just as unhinged and horny as Ruth (need I remind you she said Stephanie was the object of both their sexual fantasies)” Lipshitz to look at Max, really debate over it, before going “I may not have standards but I, unfortunately, have morals” and that he couldn’t do anything with Max since he was… well…his and his friends bully for years.

Boom, kick start the redemption arc that starts with Max just wanting to sleep with Richie but shifts to genuinely wanting to date him and trying to open up/clean up his act.

(Also- to add to that ‘“Dirty Girl Soup” Richie version’ concept that I’ve seen somewhere- I think it would be so fucking funny if Max’s equivalent to this, scandalous, forbidden, sexual fantasy was just Richie being the most supportive, understanding and healthiest boyfriend ever. Just accidentally fantasizing them in the most domestic situation ever (you know, because it goes against his Literal Monster persona). Like Richie’s, i don’t fucking know, holding his hand as they get coffee together and is just so understanding and calming when Max attempts to bully this fantasy Richie, and Max-who is just swimming in toxic masculinity (but is super ok in knowing he’s bi. As people say- he’s an actual asshole but he will bully you using your correct pronouns damnit)- is just like “NO, what are these feelings??? Why do I feel like this??? This is so wrong… but why does this feel… actually nice???” Yeah… funny shit)

#michie #max jagerman x richie lipschitz #max jagerman #richie lipschitz #damn it if only I could write #maybe one of these days I’ll just start writing shit #I’ve always wanted to write fics-#I love that this tag and this ship is just an echo chamber of ideas #we really do be feeding each others huh #nerdy prudes must die #starkid

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year

Text

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

Secret admirer part 5!!

This one really got away from me, but I hope you like it! Also, I lied, there will be one last part :) I had planned on this being a 5+1, so I’m glad it worked out to be that way!

Now Eddie is just waiting to see what Steve tries next. Just sitting back and reveling in the fact that King Steve “The Hair” Harrington, first of his name, mom of six or seven gremlins at a time, wants town Freak Eddie “The Banished” Munson.. and apparently has for a while too.

Life goes on like normal, but now every time Eddie sees Steve after finding out he was his secret admirer, he can’t help but smile a bit bigger.

He also confronts Robin, “You knew didn’t you?”

“Knew what?”

“Don’t play that shit with me; you knew it was Steve.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course I did.”

“You told me to unpack tapes on purpose so I’d see his handwriting and figure it out.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I also wanted the tapes unpacked. Duh.”

“Ugh you’re the worst. I can’t believe I’m chauffeuring you to Casa de Harrington, of my own volition, on MY precious Thursday off.”

Robin rolls her eyes “You aren’t complaining about chauffeuring Max.”

“Well yeah, cause it isn’t out of my way to get her.” Eddie gestures toward Max and that gets her attention.

She takes her headphones off her head. “What are you guys arguing about?” She asks irritated, “And what’s it got to do with me?”

“Nothing Max, I’m just giving Eddie a hard time about his big sappy crush.”

“Oh, you mean the one he has on Steve?”

Robin and Eddie both freeze.

“Wh—Who said it was Steve.” Eddie asks, voice flat.

“No one had to say anything; there is a reason why we call you both mom and dad. You aren’t subtle about it. DAD.” Max snarks back at him.

‘We. She said ‘We’. As in The Party has been calling me that.’ Eddie thinks. So that wasn’t just Steve trying to make him feel better that day on the phone.. They actually see him as a dad. ‘Well maybe; maybe it was just as a counter to Steve’s ‘Mom’. Why would they even see you as a role model?’

Fuck! He needs to stop his spiraling now. Otherwise he’s going to get in a mood and Steve will notice, and somehow think it was his fault and worry about him, and then no one will be having fun anymore an_ ‘What the fuck dude, you literally just told yourself to STOP. SPIRALING. and now you are doing exactly that.’

“Well then who am I??” Robin asks, putting on a fake offended tone to break the leftover tension.

“Hmmmm…” Max pushes her new glasses back up her nose “You’re like a kooky Uncle.”

“Uncle??” Robin actually sounds offended this time. “No, actually, that makes sense.”

Eddie chuckled at the acceptance of her new role, the storm that was whirling around in his head starting to dull. “Now was this a party decision, or is that just you, Mayfield?”

“Just me for now. I will make sure to plant the idea in Dustin’s head when we get there and I’m sure he’ll call a Meeting with the Council of Doofuses to get it in writing.” And with that, the headphones were back on.

Eddie and Robin share a look, and before much longer they are pulling into Steve’s driveway.

“God, I don’t think I will ever get over how dumb this house actually looks.” Eddie looked over at Robin curiously as she continued to berate Steve’s house while collecting her things, “It looks like whoever built it back in the 70s or some shit had no taste, even by that decade’s standards.”

“Buckley. You’re telling me that this whole time I’ve known you, we could’ve been making fun of these Loch Nora snobs’ houses.. together? I don’t think I will ever forgive you for this discretion.”

This earns Eddie another eye roll from Robin (and a muttered “You and your goddamn dramatics..”) as they both get out of the cab. Max is long gone, Steve’s front door standing open in her wake.

“So how did your sleepover go with Vickie anyway? You didn’t say anything about it..?” Eddie asks as he grabs his bag from the back.

“It was literally just a sleepover.. I thought the vibes were there but she wanted to talk about her jerk ex-boyfriend and about boys I like. By the way, I have an embarrassing crush on you, don’t tell anyone.”

Eddie laughed so loud, Steve’s neighbors must’ve heard him (no matter how far away the next house may be). “Damn, I’m sorry Buckley. I’m sure that Eddie guy will return your affections eventually.” Eddie joked, patting Robin of the shoulder as they stepped through Steve’s front door.

There were bags all over the entryway, and from the screams filtering down the hall from the sliding glass door, all the kids were outside and in the pool already.

Eddie kicked the door closed behind him and Steve peeked his head around the corner from the kitchen at the sound.

“Oh hey guys, just put your stuff wherever, everyone else is outside, and I’m getting the burgers ready to put on the grill. Robin, will you show Eddie where he can change?”

Eddie looked over when Steve said his name, pulling his attention back from looking at the boring interior of Steve’s house. Had he never been here before? No, not even at one of the old King Steve’s parties..

“How’s he never been over before? That’s so weird.” Robin said as she walked down the hall, waving at Eddie to follow.

“Buckley, get out of my head. I thought you were only supposed to have that weird mind-reading thing going on with Stevie.” Eddie chided her as he followed her to a small bathroom off the laundry room.

“You’re just jealous you can’t read his mind; maybe then you both would’ve gotten your heads out your asses sooner.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and closed the door on her smirking face. Setting his pack down on the small sink counter, he started to change.

“Fuck, I don’t want to do this.” Eddie whispered to himself. He wasn’t exactly a shy person normally, but that’s what all his layers are for.. a pool party automatically called for only about two thin layers, max. And now he had the added concern about his new (admittedly metal) scars that have only just healed all the way. Scars that not only stretched the length of his sides, but those damn bats had gotten to his face and literally took his whole left nipple off. Again, metal, but also gave Eddie about 10 or 11 times more insecure feelings that he hadn’t yet learned to cover completely under his perfectly crafted bravado.

Leaving his briefs on under his trunks, and pulling his faded Metallica shirt back on over the bumpy red scars, he packed his other layers into his bag for later and headed back out to the kitchen.

He nearly crashed into Steve as he was coming out of the laundry room and Steve was passing by with a plate piled high with patties in one hand, a six pack in the other, and bag of buns hanging out of his mouth.

“Oh shoot-- Hey, you need some help?” Eddie automatically reached for the bag of buns so Steve could answer.

“Robin already went outside to claim a chair, can you take this too?” Steve handed Eddie the six pack.

“No problem, Stevie.” Eddie smiled at him and started out the door in front of Steve.

“Thanks Eds.” *SMACK*

Silence.

“Oh. My. God. Eddie, I am so so sorry, it was just a reflex I swear! Even ask Lucas, it’s a sports thing, I didn’t mean anything by it..” Steve sounded completely stressed.

Eddie took a moment longer to process the fact that Steve Harrington just smacked his ass (reflex or not), before turning back to him halfway. Looking over at Steve, Eddie’s heart clenched to see him looking absolutely mortified.

“No worries big boy, I just didn’t realize that was on the table.” Eddie said, giving him a wink, then hurrying out of the house. He had to get out of there before he did something really embarrassing like dropping everything and jumping Steve’s bones at noon on a Thursday while there was a whole hoard of children nearby.

He stepped outside to various greetings of “Hey Eddie!” the most enthusiastic of which was Dustin, who had leapt from the pool to give a still dry Eddie a completely soaking wet hug around his middle.

“Hey Dusty-buns how ar--HOLY FUCK YOU’RE COLD! gET OFF ME!”

Dustin laughed at Eddie’s misery before jumping back into the pool (almost on top of Mike, who kicked away at the last second).

“Let me help with that, sweetheart.” Eddie heard Steve’s voice in his ear as he came up from behind him to grab the bag and six-pack from him and placing them on the table next to the grill with his burgers and the added plate of toppings he must’ve grabbed.

Sweetheart?? That was new...and most certainly did NOT make Eddie want to melt into a puddle, thank you very much.

Eddie knew he now looked completely sunburnt, despite just stepping outside a whole 30 seconds ago.

‘Ok, that’s how you want to play it, Harrington? First an ass smack, and now this??’ Eddie thought to himself. Time to crank up the flirting.

Eddie turned heel and marched back inside and directly to the freezer. He knew he had to have some in here somewhere, they are one of Dustin’s favorites.

‘Perfect.’ Eddie thought as he grabbed a cherry flavored popsicle, unwrapping it, and stepping back outside, grabbing a bottle of sunscreen as he went.

“Hey Stevie, can you help me out with this before your hands get all nasty?”

—————

“Yeah sure Eddie, what do you ne__” Steve turned around from starting the grill to face Eddie at his question. ‘Fucking hell, Munson.’

Eddie was staring at him with those damn doe eyes, holding out the bottle of sunscreen in one hand, and had a cherry-red popsicle held in the other. His already red lips wrapped around the end. ‘When’d he get that??’

Steve cleared his throat and took the bottle from him “Yeah of course, turn around.”

Eddie flashed that megawatt grin at him “Thanks sweetheart.” Steve felt his cheeks turning pink at that.

Eddie turned to face away from Steve, the hand that previously held the bottle coming up between his shoulder blades to pull his shirt over his head.

Steve noticed that Eddie didn’t pull the shirt all the way off his arms, just pulled it up and over his head so his head and back were free. A pang shot through his stomach at that ‘Of course he’s going to be self-conscious about his scars, fuck why did you think a pool party was a good idea?? Okay focus, just make sure to say something to him later on about them_oh fucking HELL’

Steve’s his train of thought imploded when Eddie decided to glance over his shoulder at Steve as he pulled his hair over the other with his free hand.

“This is going to be cold, sorry Eds.” How he had kept his voice sounding completely normal was a mystery to Steve, but now he had to focus on the fact that he’d be rubbing his hands all over Eddie.

He started at the small of Eddie’s back. Pushing the heels of his palms outward from Eddie’s spine where his fingers could come to a rest (however briefly) on either side of the older man’s waist and giving a slight squeeze.

Eddie’s breath hitched and Steve saw the blush bloom under the skin at the back of his neck. Deciding to ignore that (for now) Steve said “I told you it was going to be cold.”

“Shut up, Steve, it still caught me off guard.”

Steve chuckled and continued rubbing the lotion in, making sure to do a good job at covering every inch. Not just because he was loving being able to freely touch Eddie like this, but legitimately because he didn’t want Eddie to burn to a crisp.

He got up to Eddie’s shoulders and found some of his hair had slipped from the rest. Using a single finger, Steve brushed the stray lock from where it started behind Eddie’s ear, down across his neck and over the other shoulder. Eddie visibly shuddered and Steve smiled, “Sorry, your hair was in the way. We need to get you a hair tie.”

Finished with his back, Steve tapped Eddie on the shoulder, “OK you’re all good back here, do you want me to get your front too or have you got it covered?” giving the full King Steve smirk as Eddie turned back to face him causing him to blush more.

“I_I’ve got it.” Eddie stuttered, taking back the bottle.

How Steve managed to wrench his gaze from Eddie’s popsicle-red pout, he had no clue. “You might want to get your face done sooner than later, you’re already turning red.” Steve winked at a spluttering Eddie before turning back to the grill.

Eddie started grumbling behind him and Steve heard the rustle of fabric, assuming Eddie had fully removed his shirt now.

Glancing over his shoulder, Steve could see that Eddie was turned to face away from everyone else as he applied the sunscreen.

That pang went through Steve again, this time closer to his heart. He turned to Eddie again and came to his side so he could speak to him quietly “Hey, I know you probably don’t want everyone to see, but just know that no one here will give you shit for any of them. Or if they do, they’ll have to deal with me.”

Eddie had froze when Steve came up to him, but then tuned his face to look at him properly.

That same damn pang shot directly through Steve’s heart this time at Eddie’s big, lovely, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Put your shirt back on if you need to, but if you want to leave it off, make sure to put extra lotion on the scars themselves..I made sure I did on the parts I could reach from your back.”

Eddie looked even more like he was going to cry now, but smiled gratefully at Steve and nodded. Steve smiled at him softy and went back to the grill to actually get food started for everyone.

And if he did notice that Eddie went back to his own sunchair, sans shirt, no he didn’t.

—————

Eddie had just barely sat down when Robin leaned over to him from her chair next to him “What in the actual hell was all that?”

“No idea what you’re talking about Robs.” Eddie said nonchalantly, laying back all the way in his chair.

“Uncle Robin, will you help me re-do my braids?” Max yelled from the other side of the pool before Robin could grill him any further.

‘Thank you Max’ Eddie thought. And just like Max had said he would, Dustin’s head whipped around to look at Robin who was already making room in front of her for Max to sit while she braided.

Eddie watched as Dustin scrambled out of the pool and up to Steve “Steve, do you have a pad of paper and a pen or something?”

“Wh_what? Uh, yeah there should be one in the kitchen. The third drawer down from the phone? Wait! Dry off a bit otherwise you’ll slip on the tile.”

Dustin rolled his eyes and mumbled a “Yes, mom.” under his breath as he walked over to the pile of towels. He grabbed one off the top, barely dusted himself off with it, and dropped it on the concrete before hurrying into the house, still soaking wet.

Eddie heard a small ‘Oh shit’ from Dustin that he could only assume meant he had slipped a bit on the tile like Steve said he would.

Dustin came back out in no time at all and called the rest of the goblins over to a small patio table on the other side of the pool. As soon as Max’s braids were done, she too went to the table, sidling up between Lucas and Eleven.

Dustin’s hand looked a blur as he would scribble something down to one thing someone said, then crossing other things out to a differnt comment. Eddie chuckled at the sight and leaned back again, closing his eyes.

After a bit, Steve walked over from the grill and sat at the end of Eddie’s chair, scooting his legs out of the way with his ass and grabbing a beer from the nearby cooler.

“You need more room for that thing, Harrington?” Eddie snarked, poking Steve’s hip with his foot before closing his eyes to the sun again.

“You need a new popsicle?” Steve flicked the end of the popsicle stick that was still hanging out of Eddie’s mouth.

“You just liked seeing me with something in my mouth.”

There was a pause, and Eddie felt the chair shift as Steve stood back up. He opened his eyes slightly when he felt the shade of Steve leaning over him. Steve’s face was right next to his, his mouth close to Eddie’s ear “And what if I did?”

‘Jesus H. Christ’ was Eddie’s only thought as he watched Steve(’s ass) walk back over to the grill.

Eddie had a bit of time to calm down after that when Steve yelled for everyone to come grab food, deciding to steer clear while the gremlins descended upon the feast and watch Steve ‘Mom’ over them all. “Grab napkins, Lucas”. “Mike put at least some lettuce on those, you need veggies too!”, “Dustin, cool it with the ketchup.”

That’s it. That was the last straw. Eddie’s in love.

‘Fucking hell.’ Eddie shot up from where he was laying and sat at the end of the chair instead. ‘Fucking hell..’ Eddie stood up and started pacing.

Every thought he’d ever had about Steve Harrington whipped through his mind like a hurricane. Every time he thought Steve was cute back in high school, the one (1) time he saw Steve in his Scoops Ahoy outfit before he vowed to never return to Starcourt, every time he was confused at seeing King Steve being the one there to pick up the Hellfire kids after their sessions, Steve’s reaction to being manhandled into the wall of Reefer Rick’s boathouse, his willingness to follow the kids there in the first place to come help Eddie of all people, insisting on being the one to dive into Lover’s Lake so the others didn’t have to (him stripping off his sweater when he did and tossing it to Eddie when Nancy was right there ogling him too), the sight of him sweaty, dirty and bleeding in the upside-down that Eddie just needed to get covered up before he’d lose his mind (again), then realizing his mistake too late when he now had to look at Steve in his battle vest, swearing he was catching Steve looking at his lips in the same hellscape, Steve carrying him out of there when they were successful but hadn’t all went too well for Eddie, Steve being there in the hospital when he woke up spouting off to Robin about ‘If Steve were gay, do you think he’d fuck me?’ (’...Eddie, I’m Bisexual.’ ‘Oh sweet! I can only write with my right hand..’), and then, fuck, now knowing that Steve was the one leaving him these sappy notes just because he thought Eddie looked hot in the School play? Being a mom to all these kids that didn’t get time to be kids until now?

Eddie was gone. And probably had been for a while.

By the time he came down from his spiral, he was halfway though a burger that somehow materialized in his hand.

“The fuck?” Eddie looked to Robin, Nancy, and Steve.

Steve sat up from where he was laying, already back in his own chair, empty plate sat on his leg, “Oh, uhm, you seemed to be out of it when I told you to come grab food so I tried handing you something so I’d know you’d eat. You took it and started eating so I figured you were OK.”

Eddie looked from Steve disbelievingly, to Robin disbelievingly. Then back to Steve. “Th_thanks Steve.”

“No worries, Eds.”

Eddie sat back down on the end of his chair and finished his burger, his mind adding this to his list of reasons to love Steve Harrington.

Dustin had stopped scribbling furiously on the lended pad of paper by now, and Eddie called out to him to get him to share, hoping to get his mood back on track.

“Dustybuns, what have you all been doing over there this whole time??” Dustin looks at Eddie, then back at the rest of the Council of Doofuses, then back to Eddie before they all approach the older teens laying out on Steve’s patio furniture.

Max and El came over with them too (even Erica), from where they had assuredly been watching the chaos unfold from their own sunchair. The boys were now almost bone dry. That’s how long they’d been going at this.

“We’ve had to add in a couple people to The Party Family Tree.”

“Oh yeah? Whatcha got?” Eddie says at the same time Steve says “Oh god, here we go..”

Dustin clears his throat, “OK so we start with Steve as the Mom. Obviously.”

Steve’s sat up on his lounger now, and hangs his head into his hands at that.

“Sure.” Robin affirms for the rest of them, encouraging Dustin to continue and ignoring the miserable noise Steve makes.

“Eddie is the dad.”

“Awe, Stevie!” Eddie places his hand over his heart, “Wait, when’s our anniversary?”

"You haven’t proposed yet.” Steve says into his hands.

“ANYWAY.” Dustin sounds loudly “So Steve and Eddie are the mom and dad. Robin is our Uncle on Steve’s side, Nancy is our Aunt on Eddie’s side.”

“Wait, what? Eddie laughs and looks over at Nancy who is trying to hold back her laughter behind her hand.”

“Yeah, and Hopper is Steve’s dad so I guess he’s our Grandpa.” Steve’s head snaps up at that.

“He’s old and crotchety enough.” Mike chimes in, shrugging.

“I am Jane Hopper so I am Steve’s sister now.” El says carefully, like she is remembering exactly how families work exactly.

Steve looks like he’s trying not to cry, looking at El with a small smile.

“What about Jonathan?” Robin asks, getting into it fully at this point.

Eddie could almost feel the weirdness hit Steve and Nancy at that, like a foot of snow falling all at once.

“He’s Steve’s oldest.” Dustin states matter-of-factly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah. He’s your oldest son; you had him way too young and he has already moved out.”

“He’s a little distant, but you know he’s happy out in Cali with his boyfriend and you see him on the holidays.” Will tells Steve, smiling brightly as the other kids laugh.

Steve, Eddie, and Nancy are honestly dumbfounded at the web they’ve woven around Mama Steve; Robin is absolutely delighted to find out about Steve’s firstborn. (”Who’s the baby daddy?” she asks him, getting a loud smack on her arm for it.)

Everyone’s waiting for Steve to say something.

He stands up, turns to face his brood, and opens his arms wide in invitation. They all crowd in around him and the mask drops off his face as he finally lets the tears start flowing.

Robin and Eddie glance at each other before throwing themselves around their hoard, Nancy coming up to Robin’s side.

“I love you guys.” Steve says, his voice thick.

After a good long moment, Mike pipes up from somewhere toward the middle of the pack “Okay this is great but it’s still a million degrees outside and somehow I ended up in the middle of this furnace.”

They all chuckle and separate from each other, some wiping tears away with their hands and others (Mike, Max, Erica) jumping back into the pool to disguise how wet their face may or may not have gotten.

Still wiping his tears away, Steve yells at them to “Dammit get back out so you can put more sunscreen on!” to choruses of “Yes, mom.” and more laughing.

“...So if Stevie and I get divorced, who gets which kids?” Eddie asks, and immediately has to start dodging Steve’s attempts to tackle him into the pool.

Dustin picks up the pad of paper and flips to a new page as the rest of them start yelling at him who they’d want to “stay” with.

----------

A few hours later it’s getting cooler, a sign of the fall to come. Steve manages to coax everyone back inside with the promise of pizza and movies.

Eddie and Robin had gone in before the rest of the kids to get changed and start piling pillows, blankets, and even a couple mattresses onto the floor of the living room. Pulling everything out before the rest came in and started getting changed. Eddie is the first to plop down on the massive floor bed, right in the middle.

Robin fell back onto the couch that was now an acting headboard, “So, any more news on the secret admirer front?” she asks, nudging him with her foot.

“Boy do I have a story for you, Robs.” Eddie grinned.

“You mean about your latest rose?” Max came into the room with El, piling themselves on Steve’s armchair with the fluffiest blanket in the pile.

“The one exactly, Red.”

“Ok good, then I can Ignore you for the next two hours.”

Eddie threw a pillow at her head at that.

“Max was there when you found it?” This time it was Will and Mike coming in with their bags of snacks and finding a spot to lay out.

“Actually, she was there when the guy left the rose.” Max said from the chair.

There was a clatter from the kitchen, then Dustin came barreling in from where he was helping Steve with dishes. “So you know who it is??” he asked Max

“No doofus, Eddie was with me when the guy left the rose at Eddie’s trailer.”

Another clatter from the kitchen.

“You OK Steve?” Robin asked.

“Peachy.” he called back.

“Wait, so you guys saw him leave it? So you know who it is??” Dustin continued.

Lucas came down the steps then, Max’s walkman in his hand. He handed it to her before getting comfy in front of the girls’ chair. Erica following and squishing herself into the corner of the loveseat.

“We saw him, but couldn’t tell who it was.”

“So here’s the thing,” Eddie starts “I was with Max that night while her mom was at work, my uncle was at his shift, AND my van was in the shop. My trailer was dark and both cars were gone. Of course he’d think it was safe to be a bit bolder and leave this one right at my doorstep.”

Being met with ‘Ahs’ of understanding, Eddie continued: “But what he must not know is that trailer walls are thin, and I know what the gravel outside my place, and that second squeaky step on the porch sound like when someone walks on 'em. So when we heard it from Max’s living room, we looked out to make sure it wasn’t some person trying to vandalize my shit again.”

Steve had come into the room and leaned against the doorframe a bit earlier, dishtowel thrown over his shoulder, and now looked like a deer caught in the headlights. ‘Gotcha.’ Eddie thought.

"But alas, the night was dark, and we could barely make out a figure before whoever it was ran off into the night.” Eddie waggled his fingers like he was telling a scary story

“They walked to your house??” Dustin asked

“No dipshit, they probably didn’t want to be recognized by their car” Mike shot back.

“Who has that recognizable of a car?” came Will’s small voice

“Besides Steve? I don’t know.” Erica chimes in

“Me??” Steve asked, actually confused

“Yeah Steve, everyone knows your beemer.” Dustin said, rolling his eyes.

“So when I went back home, the rose was there.” Eddie pulled it out of his inner jacket pocket. “This one says “Think of all the things We've shared and seen, Don't think about the way things might have been” Eddie sings the line.

“Wow, your voice is really pretty Eddie.” Eleven says, breaking the silence that followed.

“Thanks, supergirl.”

“Eddie those lyrics have to be a clue” Dustin says, always the analyzer

Eddie makes eye contact with Steve from across the room and smiles fondly.

“I know.”

_______________________________

Pt. 6 will be here!

Now on AO3! Several Notes of the Most Amiable Nature

Thank you to @lunaraindrop and @starkdusk for being the first ones to encourage my ‘Steve is a jock and would smack Eddie’s ass accidentally’ brainrot 🥰

Tagging everyone I can!!: @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @cutiecusp @lilfroggies @panicatthediaz @bigboyandmetalhead @pluto-pepsi @funnymagicman-named-dandy @cringeisdeadandsoami @minjintea @saramelaniemoon @thegingerrapunzel @lightwoodbanethings @largechaos @kato-hoeven @stevesworldxx @notsopersonalcharlie @estilosexy @original-cypher @gleefully-macabre @disasterlia @imnotsureiexist @blurryjoji @nightmareglitter @deleataecount @withacapitalp @quevadilla @aringofsalt @werewolfpeterparker @lipglossanon @edmunsn @maya-custodios-dionach @straight4joekeery @sideblogofthcentury @iamsotiredman @ladydorian05 @resident-gay-bitch @undreamingscatworld @haluton @tsukiwashere @eddiehashands @wrayofmoonshine @2btheanswertothequestion @a-bun-danceoflove @xstevex-world @infinityonsighhh @buttonupintoblue @lallagoupsidedown @homeofthepeculiar @nightmareglitter

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #secret admirer #secret admirer au #mine #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steveddie #steve x eddie #1000

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pocketsizedquasar · 8 months

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thoughts about jon, gender, n hair

aka i've literally wanted to write a fic centered around this concept for like over two years but. well. anyway. i still might write the fic at some point but lord knows when that'll happen so in the meantime here are my jon jarchivist headcanons centered around hair and gender, ft. my personal flavor of jon: persian, w/ a white grandmother, n amab nonbinary transneutral/transfemme

⁃ jon's hair was always kept short as a kid. short hair was for boys, his grandmother had said, and besides, she didn't have the desire nor energy to learn how to care for his thick persian curls; the shorter they were, the less tangled and unruly, the better.

⁃ jon explored some more fem/gnc presentation in college, some of which included growing out his hair. he attributed it back then more to just the fact that he was exploring his queerness (in a bi and ace sense) in general & that he spent a lot of time around georgie (also transfemme), and didn't really think about the actual gender accompanying it -- he wasn't actively thinking much about his own gender. questioning and coming to terms with his sexuality was already a lot.

⁃ but he liked the way his hair looked and felt long. he liked the quiet rebellion of it. he liked the way georgie ran her fingers through it. he liked how many different ways it could be worn long -- in ponytails and buns and braids and just loose down his back. he doesn't remember much of his mom, but he's seen in pictures her long, dark, curly hair, just like his now, and he likes the reminder.

⁃ he keeps it long after college, though upon getting hired as a researcher at the magnus institute, he has a bit of a crisis over whether or not to cut it, re: standards of white cishetero "professionalism" and decorum and masculinity, all of which he's doing his best to perform. maybe even early on in his research days he cuts it a bit and decides it makes him feel so bad (for some inexplicable reason) that he decides to just leave it long, though tidy and brushed and straightened and pulled high up into a tight bun so it looks neat and out of the way and functionally short anyway.

⁃ similar thing happens when he gets promoted to archivist. i personally like him deciding not to cut it here because i like him being allowed to keep one (1) thing, though i def understand other hc's where he does cut it short for S1 / being the archivist. he's still very much keeping it pulled up in a tight bun and out of the way, and removes anything else remotely feminine about his appearance -- earrings, more fem clothing, nailpolish, etc.

⁃ i read mossy's @coulson-is-an-avenger "shopping for gender in a british wal-mart" fic like 2.5 years ago and i still love it so much and it's still canon to me basically re: he tries a skirt Once to work at the sort of peak sweet point where he's settled in enough to feel comfortable trying to wear a skirt but not yet paranoid enough about Prentiss. sasha talks w him about gender and femininity and stuff, though he's not quite ready to confront it yet.

⁃ then prentiss/season 2 hits and he regresses again hard into self-defense mode; the performative masculinity goes Harder. his hair is still long but it's messy; thick curls and flyaway strands frizzing about his sleep deprived and paranoid face.

⁃ by the time s3 rolls around, everything else in his life has gone to shit, so mostly he's just like "fuck it" re: his presentation in general, including his gender presentation. there's also a sense of just.. "this it the one thing in my life I have control over," so he sort of starts just wearing whatever. even if he's not really acknowledging the actual gender feelings to himself. but his hair and his clothes are One thing he can control about himself, one thing the watcher can't really take away from him. so with s3-s4 it's like. yeah he feels like he's becoming less and less human and yeah he's being kidnapped once a month and yeah the world is going to end but at least he can wear a goddamn skirt.

⁃ i do think there's also an element of it too where, there's obvious anxiety and concern about him being a visibly brown and trans/gnc person in fucking London of all places, but as time goes on i do think there's a bit of like. even if i face violence for this what does it matter. i hardly leave the archives anyways, and even then, would that really be anything? in the face of everything else that's happened?

⁃ in the safehouse jon and martin (who to me is a trans man btw) talk about gender a bunch and Jon realizes they want to try using both he and they pronouns and maybe jon decides they want to do some more feminine things, want to try wearing skirts and maybe painting their nails again and martin braids flowers into their hair and things are good

⁃ and then season 5 and the apocalypse hits.

⁃ for the first little while in the safehouse jon's hair is still long. but before they leave, he cuts it, for several reasons -- first like, if keeping it long and presenting femininely was partially about control for Jon, this is them letting Go of that, of what he perceives to have just been an Illusion control. yeah it might make them a bit dysphoric but so what, my body was never mine tobegin with.

⁃ and i think he's also doing it as a mental preparation for leaving the cabin, after jon and martin have had the initial talk about eventually leaving. long hair is a liability; hair can get pulled on and tugged on when being kidnapped and grabbed at; hair can be drenched in shampoo and twisted by plastic hands; hair can be tangled and snag on the walls of a coffin; it can be full of dirt days and days later; hair is a hassle and a hazard and an illusion of control and above all it was a comfort to jon and this is no longer a world where you can trust comfort, martin.

⁃ martin walks in on jon in the bathroom staring at themself in the mirror with a pair of scissors. they ask martin to cut it for them. (martin gets a haircut too, in a show at solidarity and some levity. also undercut martin rights)

⁃ anyway, Somewhere Else Jon wears flowy dresses and grows his hair long and leaves lipstick stains on martin's face when they kiss and hikes his skirts up above his knees when they work in the garden and their hair is long and dark and thick and curly and he likes it; likes the way it looks and feels, the way martin runs his fingers through it, the way it reminds him of his mother and the way it makes him smile at the person they see standing in the mirror.

⁃ and it's good. it's really good.

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