#cause I keep sticking these art projects on my wall

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

word count: 10.2K

paring: Sero x fReader

warning(s): dirty talking, fingering(f! receiving), premature ejaculation, messy sex, semi-public sex (if ya squint) - you know the works here, pretty standard smut, nothing too crazy.

authors note: Happy Belated Birthday to me! Not only did the amazing Onyx give me this idea MONTHS ago about the dynamic between Sero and I, but this won the poll for what I was going to work on next - and though I went with Bakugou's story first (cause it was fresher in my mind) I have finally finished this! AND OH BOY, how self-indulgent I was with this one - I am not known for my dialog but couldn't help but put lots in here! That being said, I did try and keep this as generic as I could, just may not be AS generic, ya know? Anyway, I hope you all love this glorified tape dispenser as much as I do~🔮

Sero had always loved to draw, even when he was a little kid. What started as scribbles covering the walls of his home turned into small doodles - those that filled his notebooks more than his writing and school work turned into piles and piles of sketchbooks that were filled with intricate drawings and were stacked high within the confines of his room. 

He remembered being little, using washable markers to doodle fun patterns and designs on his arms and the arms of his friends, remembering how most recess breaks were filled with doing a doodle request for several fellow classmates. To being older, and having those same classmates come up to him to see if they could utilize his skills to make projects look nicer; to make epic banners for school events, or to make posters pop in his signature way. Even while he was in college, next to a prestigious art school that only accepted a handful of creatives a year, he had people beg him to create designs for tattoos they were wanting to get; willing to pay lots of money so they could forever have a drawing of his on their skin.

And that sparked something inside him. A passion to turn a hobby into a career.

It took years and years of effort, of schooling, of practicing, of littering his skin with designs both good and bad - and subsequently spending more time fixing his faults - and then shadowing those more experienced, to be taken into their shops and under their wings, so he may draw on the bodies of those that were hoping to decorate their skin. Not all patrons were ideal; some were not hygienic, and others moved too much and then complained of sloppy work, demanding a refund. And not all shop owners were pleasant to work for; many accepted clients even when they shouldn't, often dismissing those beneath them out of pride and a superiority complex, and always taking the side of those patrons trying to scam him and his time. But there were a few people that made it all worth it in the end, a few colleagues turned friends that made ‘sticking it out’ much more bearable.

And without all the bumps and hurdles, Sero would not have become as confident in his abilities and his worth, and he would not have had the chance to meet so many amazing people and artists - some of which had the same goal and ideas in mind as he did; who would follow him wherever he went. Before he even knew it, Hanta Sero finally achieved his goal, of making his childhood dream and hobby into a reality. He finally owned his tattoo parlor. 

He found a little shop within the city, perfect enough for him and a few friends to call their own, to create their own brand, and to make their own living; to finally call the shots and have complete creative control. The building itself was a little run down - something to be expected with the small price tag attached - but it was the ideal size for all of them and in the perfect location. So no one cared that it needed a few months of intense TLC to get the building up to code, it was more than worth the effort. And before anyone knew it the inspector came to claim the building was up to standards, giving the business license and the all-clear to start accepting patrons; it only took a few days before people heard the news.

When word got around that Sero and his business partners had finally opened their shop, to start accepting clients and creating art on their skin that they would enjoy for a lifetime, so many jumped on the chance to get an appointment with them - Sero especially. Some were people he had known for years, eagerly awaiting another drawing of ink, and some were those that saw his work on the many social pages advertising the business that wanted to add another to their growing collections. Whatever the case was, once he turned on the neon ‘open’ sign on the day of opening, he and his friends were booked for months in advance.

And the cherry on top of all of this? Another wonderful addition to the streams of success he was facing, was the bookstore that sat just across the street from him. 

Not because he was into books, though he did read from time to time and enjoyed it when he did, but because of the owner that bookshop had. At first, he couldn’t be sure you were the owner, but day in and day out he watched you show up at opening and leave at closing, and unless you were an incredibly dedicated employee, it was an easy assumption to make. And Sero couldn’t deny that he thought you were pretty when he first caught sight of you through his window after closing on his first day; and he couldn’t deny that he would wait with anticipation when you closed your shop and would begin making your way home, just so he could get a glimpse of your cute face.

He wished he had the free time to go and speak to you, to see you up close and hear your voice (which he could just tell was adorable and sweet), but his clientele made it nearly impossible for him to get the chance. By the time the last client would leave, your shop would already be closed, and for some time, with you nowhere in sight. There were just simply not enough hours in the day for him to spare to meet you; as well he was terrified of canceling an appointment or rejecting a client so early on in all of this, afraid that one bad comment could ruin the shop and cause it to sink.

But Sero always made the best of any situation, that was part of his charm. He figured that if he didn’t have the time to go in and speak to you, to properly act on his little crush, he would let you know who he was and his existence through different means. 

Romantic gestures that could be seen as small and friendly - those that wouldn’t scare you off or have you become afraid. He started by sending you flowers; a small bouquet to help liven your shop if you wanted; which you did if the vase by your check-out counter was any indication. Next were chocolates, all bundled in pretty wrapping paper for you to carefully tear away. Then balloons, attached to a small gift basket with quality skincare items that could be found at his shop with his business card nustled amongst the jars and tins to ensure that you knew who sent them and that it was from the new neighbor across the street - not some strange admirer. 

He could tell that you liked them, given the delight that bloomed on your face whenever you received them - the bright smile as you brought those flowers to your nose to inhale their earthy scent, or when you eagerly started to open up some of the chocolates to enjoy, or when you carefully inspected each tin of cream; placing a small dollop on the back of your hand before putting them aside and back to your work. Sero especially knew you liked them when, a week later, you sent a gift basket back to him filled with artisan treats from the local farmers market; with a card welcoming the new store to the neighborhood.

After a while of staring hopelessly at you, to the point where all his friends were relentlessly teasing him, Sero finally made the decision to meet you properly; to make his way over to your shop to say hello. 

“And it has nothing to do with Kaminari!” he exclaimed at Kirishima and Mina, ensuring they could hear him over the snickering, as he grabbed his jacket to sling over his shoulders.

“Sure, whatever you say, big guy~” Mina sang as waved goodbye with a wink, clearly not buying it - especially as Kaminari just got back from your shop, book in hand that you recommended.

Sero shook his head, out of frustration at Mina’s words knowing that she called his bluff, as he slammed the door shut behind him and briskly walked across the street; breathing a sigh of relief, one that made the tension in his shoulder slack, when he stepped foot into your shop. It was everything he thought a bookstore should be; it was cozy and warm, the kind that would make anyone instantly at ease and would spend hours just curled up to read; which he assumed the patron he walk passed had been doing all day.

“Welcome! Can I help you?” A voice sang through the air, causing his head to turn to face a young woman - sadly not you - wearing an apron with the store's logo on it.

“Uh, not sure.” Sero smiled, nodding his head in acknowledgment, and as a polite hello, before gazing around.

“First time here?” She inquired, moving behind a nearby counter to grab a stack of books.

“Yeah, pretty obvious huh?”

“A little, many have the look on their face when they first come in. It’s a little overwhelming at times, the place is a bit bigger than they assume.”

“You could say that again…” Sero could hear her airy giggle, watching in the corner of her eye as she began to sort through the titles.

“I can give you the run down if you like?”

“Please, if you don’t mind.”

“Not a problem at all, sir.” She smiled, pausing her task to free her hands for gesturing with her explanation  “This place is a lot like a library, people can come and go as they please, staying all day if they want to, without the pressure of needing to buy something. They can also borrow books for a small fee if they want, to ensure they don’t waste their money on a bad book, or they can obviously purchase them if they want.”

“A safe haven for those that love books, huh?” Sero chimed with a smile, taking another glance at all the sitting areas close to him - the plush pillows and fireplace inviting for those that would want to curl up.

“Pretty much, that was the idea” The employee agreed, already starting to sort again “Have a look and take all the time you need.”

Sero left her with a ‘thank you’ and another nod before venturing further into the store - taking stock of what sections of books there were and all the small cozy nooks for people to curl up in; taking his time to explore the entirety of the shop before leaving. “For research purposes, in case I wanna go back” he would mumble to himself, ready to defend his actions from his teasing friends upon his return. It was for those reasons, and those alone, not at all because he was trying to find you.

He finally did come across you, after what seemed like hours of searching, hidden away within the Historical Fiction sections tucked near the back walls, shelving some books that were stacked within your arms and reorganizing the ones that had been misplaced. To say Sero was smitten with you would have been an understatement before, but now? Seeing you so close? Smitten would not even begin to compare to how love-struck he was; one so strong it struck him dumb and left him unable to do anything but look at you.

“Sir?” 

Sero couldn’t tell if he was lucky or not to have your voice call out to him; luck that it broke him out of the stupor he was in, unlucky that he was unable to say or do anything more than gaze up at you with his mouth agape.

“Do… do you need help with anything?” Your sweet voice called out to him again, though clearly confused, and it made Sero look away to try and gain his thoughts once more.

“A-art book.” He cleared his throat, cheeks turning hot and red as his eyes did their best to look anywhere but you “Looking for one of those.”

“Well, which one?” You smiled, biting your lip to hide it as you gently placed the books you were holding down.

“Art, The Definitive Visual Guide” Sero blurted, voice sounding rushed as he named the first art book he bought when in college; watching as your brows furrowed as you took a moment to process what he said.

“By Dixon?” 

“Y-yes!” Sero exclaimed, eyes brightening and heart swelling with pride when you giggled over his excitement.

“Well, that would be in our art section, which would be…” You began to lean forward, carefully perching yourself on your ladder to see past the bookshelf currently in your way “Ah! Just over there!”

“O-over there?” Sero nodded, trying his best to not be affected by the smell of your shampoo as it lingered in the air as you moved to stand upright again “T-that’s perfect thank you!”

“Oh, no worries at all! You just let me know if you can’t find it okay?” You smiled, already picking your books back up.

Sero smiled back, giving a wave goodbye, before almost scurrying away; head hanging in defeat once he knew you were out of sight. A small part of him hoped he couldn’t find the book so he could talk to you again, but he knew that would be a mistake - especially as the spine of the book stared right back at him when he first began looking in the section you sent him to. Begrudgingly he accepted his fate, bringing the book up to the front cash and paying the borrowing fee to the employee he met earlier.

He came back to the parlor feeling like a complete idiot over messing up his first proper encounter with you, not doing at all what he planned to do - not being the effortlessly charming and fun guy he knew he was. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep stopping by. 

After all, he had to return the book he borrowed.

~

Sero waited a week, in his mind if he went back the next day it would cause him more harm than good; would lead to you asking him way more questions than he would want about the book itself - and well, he already made a fool of himself once. Besides, the week-long buffer would allow him the chance to clear his head and come up with a game plan, so he could be properly prepared himself to see you again.

Because this time he wanted to start an actual conversation with you, one where he could learn about who you were, why you opened this store and everything in between that led to this moment in time. He wanted to know if his crush on you was justified, or if he should just cut his losses now before he was in too deep. But to be fair, based on what all his friends have said, he already was; even so, he couldn’t hold onto that book forever.

Regardless of what the outcome may be, he had to see you again; even if it meant rescheduling a client for a Sunday to make up the lost time, he just had to get to you and your store before closing.

And it was the perfect time to go he found. The store was almost completely empty, with seemingly no one else in the building but you as you began your usual routine for closing - so dutifully organizing stacks of papers and placing books that needed to be returned into a neat little pile; he almost felt bad for clearing his throat and breaking you out of your stride.

“H-hi!” You exclaimed, your body jolting in surprise when you regarded him, clearly not used to anyone being here so late “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner, I hope you weren’t waiting long!”

“No you’re fine, I just walked in,” Sero reassured, taking a step closer to your counter.

“Oh, are you here to return that art book? The one by Dixon?” You asked, back straightening as you smiled up at him. “I hope you liked it!”

“I did, it was a great read.” Sero mirrored your smile as he handed the book back over to you, enjoying the way your smaller hand brushed against his briefly “Though I was wondering if you could me find a similar book?”

“Sure, of course! Do you want a recommendation or are you looking for a specific title?”

“Uh, Creatives on Creativity is what I am looking for,” Sero said, breathing a mental sigh of relief over remembering the title - one he only heard of a day prior when searching for art books to ask you about.

“Creatives on Creativity…” You mumbled, turning to your computer to check if you had the title in stock - the sound of a keyboard clacking could be heard, filling the silent space briefly “By Steve Brouwers?”

“Yup! That’s the one” Sero confirmed with a nod, perfectly hiding the fact he was completely unsure as he watched you round the counter of the counter with a wave.

“Yeah, we should have a few in stock if you would follow me!”

You took him back to the Art Section, your stride confident as you weaved your way through bookcases and magazine towers, as you began locating the book in question; trying to remember where exactly you cataloged it - whether it was with the Art Help books or the Art Education ones.

Sero followed behind you, keeping his stride to a more casual pace to avoid possibly stepping on your heels, as he regarded your profile; enjoying the concentrated gazes, those mixed with slight perplexity, as you looked from shelf to shelf trying to help him out. Never before was he grateful, and possibly will never be again, about having trouble trying to find a book.

“Can I ask you something?” He finally spoke, watching as you began to stand on a small stool to look at a higher shelf, figuring his time was running out.

“Uh, sure?” You muttered, voice soft as you continued on your hunt. “Go ahead”

“I’m sure you get asked this all the time, but I’m curious as to what a bookshop owner's favourite book is?” 

“Oh! Wow, that’s a great question!” You said, finally sparing him a brief glance with a smile “And one that’s kinda tough to answer. I love books from all genres for different reasons, so to compare one that’s horror to one that’s fantasy is a little difficult to do.”

“Well, what are you enjoying right now?” Sero asked, body leaning against the bookshelf so he could continue gazing up at you.

“Uhh, wow what am I reading right now?” You chuckled nervously as your mind began to race, feeling your cheeks heat up as you heard him do so as well “Let's see… probably The Historian, it’s a thriller mystery kinda deal - involves vampires and stuff - it’s proving to be quite fun” 

“Vampires?”

“Yeah… it’s historical fiction. It blurs the lines of what happened with whatever our imaginations can think of with the folklore of Vlad Țepeș and Dracula. Partly why I like it I guess…”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sero hummed, watching as you scanned the titles before you, almost as if you were counting each one for inventory later “Take it that’s why you opened this place? Fell in love with reading books from far and wide?”

“Something like that” You agreed with a shrug of your shoulders “Wanted to be a librarian, always thought they had a great gig going on, and one thing led to another and, well, here we are.”

As you spoke your deft fingers delicately pulled the book you both were looking for from its place in the self, where it was hiding. Once you secured it in your grip, you slowly descended from your stool handing the book out to him once your feet were securely on the ground.

“And here you are.” You smiled, watching as he stood upright and uncrossed his arms.

“Thanks, for finding this for me” He gingerly took the book from you and tucked it under his arm, smiling wider at your cheery response back; following you obediently back up to the cash to once again pay the borrowing fee.

“Hey, if you don’t mind…” Sero began, fingers tapping nervously against the wood of the countertop “I have one more question to ask ya.”

“Sure, go ahead!” You giggled, amused by his polite curiosity as you began the transaction of payment.

“Would you want to go for some coffee sometime?”

His question made your fingers fumble on the touchpad, causing an error screen to pop up and for you to almost frantically try to fix, and you nervously cleared your throat; face going hot in surprise and embarrassment over your stumbled, and failed, answer back.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you or make you uncomfortable” Sero tried to soothe, hands raising up and away from the bubble around you to prove he meant no harm “Just think you’re cute and would like to treat you to some coffee, that’s all.”

“W-well, that’s um, very sweet of you, I just um…” You floundered, doing your best to finish quickly so you could hide away from him - to shield him from witnessing your embarrassment further “Just don’t think that would be a good idea?”

“You don’t? Why not?”

“Y-you know, we’re strangers! We only met a few days ago and all….”

“Actually we’re neighbors, good ones at that if our gift exchange was anything to go by.” Sero clarified, watching as the realization of who he was crossed your face, his hands lowered to shove themselves in his jacket pockets before shrugging his shoulders “But hey, not gonna pressure you or anything. If you don’t want to that’s cool, I won’t pressure you!”

“I’m flattered, believe me, just….” You countered a sheepish look on your face as you passed the book back his way for him to take “Maybe some other time.”

“Sure thing, thank you again,” Sero said, giving you one last small smile before taking his book and leaving; wishing you a good night as he walked past the threshold of your store with a wave.

A few things were certain that night; the first being that you were worth having a crush on, and he would love the chance to treat you right. And second, you were not used to the straightforward approach, and if he didn’t want to screw anything up, he would have to be patient and go about things slowly.

But Sero Hanta was up for any challenge, and you were more than worth the wait.

~

After that night, Sero found himself stopping by your shop a few times a week; to return a new book he borrowed (and spent the night before diligently reading), and to further chat with you. The conversations were always led by a question or two before it sparked into something beautiful - he loved the way you would ramble, talking with your hands, as you explained something, how passionate you got over the things you loved, and how blessed he found himself when you tried to tell a story from when you were younger but couldn’t over your laughter of remembering it all.

And after each night, when the conversation had reached its end and the book he had paid for was tucked snugly under his arm, he would, without fail, ask you out on a date as he was leaving your shop; in love with the smile and the amused shake of your head when you bid him a simple goodnight, to - “try again some other time” - before shutting the door behind him and switching you sign to closed.

Slowly but surely you were coming out of your shell, becoming more than eager to spend the last hour in his company; you didn’t realize it right away, but soon you found yourself noticing how excited you got when you would greet him. Or how you would try and keep the conversation going just a little bit longer as you walked to the cash, not wanting the night to end so soon. And how you would linger close to him before closing the door and saying good night. He was fun company, some of the best you ever had, and you couldn’t deny that you were starting to catch feelings for him too; to slowly become as enamored as he was.

Sero noticed this little factor as well, after a couple of months of visiting, when it was you who ask him a question; as you gingerly took hold of his arm to get a better look at the intricate tattoo that was perfectly placed on his forearm after handing him his recently purchased item.

“Did you do this yourself?” You whispered, almost in awe, as your fingertips barely brushed over the details of the design.

“Yeah,” Sero breathed out, quite taken aback by your bold action - though nowhere near complaining. “Took a while, but I think it turned out great.”

“Did you design it too?”

“Mm-hmm, designed all the tattoos on my body.” His eyes shifted their gaze from his arm to your face, “Wanted to work on my skin first before anyone else’s, just in case I wasn’t good at it.”

“I think it’s safe to say that you are, it’s beautiful work.”

“Do you have one?” 

“N-no…” You broke your gaze away, taking a step back from him - completely aware of how close and possibly inappropriate you were behaving.

“You want one?” Sero inquired with a clear of his throat; wanting nothing more than to move closer to you again, to gain that moment of intimacy once more, but knew he couldn’t

“Well yeah,” You shrugged, looking anywhere but at him, “But I just never really know what to get, and I don’t wanna regret getting something cause it’ll be on my skin forever, you know?”

“I can design something for you if you want?” 

“You would?”

“Obviously, wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to!” He smiled, grabbing a piece of scrap paper and a marker from your countertop “Just tell me some things that you like, and I’ll come up with something! See, I already know you like owls, and foxes, and of course historical fiction and fantasy books…”

“Sero, listen this is really sweet! I am honored you would do this for me and all but….” You began, cutting him off from his parade of knowledge of all things you loved - heart swelling almost uncomfortably with the attention - “But really, you don't have to do this for me.”

“You kidding, I would love to! If I didn’t I wouldn’t have done this for a living; hard to make a career out of something you hate!”

“Yeah, clearly, I obviously get it. But even so, you’re booked for months! You got plenty of other clients that need your attention and designs a lot more than I do.”

“Oh ho~ How do you know I’m booked for months?” Sero teased, enjoying how you looked away in fake annoyance as your shoulders raised in embarrassment “Even if I was, which you’re so cutely right that I am, I would reserve a spot for you regardless.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it can be after hours too, if you wanted.” Sero offered, with a shrug “Ya know if that would help put your nerves at ease; less people and all that stuff. And it could help make you feel better about accepting my offer~ I wouldn’t have to cancel on a client if you did.”

You sighed, shoulder slumping as you weighed his very tempting offer. You had been wanting a tattoo, ever since the new parlor opened across the street; and especially so every time you looked in Sero’s direction - the ink that was littered across his skin was beautiful - now here was the most perfect opportunity to finally get one and to get some more alone time with the artist himself; you knew you would regret it every day if you said no; despite your nerves telling you otherwise.

Squaring your shoulders you finally looked back at him, giving him a nod of approval over his proposition.

“Yes!” His fists thumped the counter as he proclaimed his excitement over your acceptance “I promise you won’t regret it! I’ll start working on the designs tonight and will have them done A-S-A-P!”

“Okay, okay!” You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes at his childish behavior “Sounds good to me.”

“Oh! One more thing!” He passed the marker over to you, his palm slayed out as if acting as a canvas “I’ll need your number so I can both let you know when the design is done and so I can book you in for your appointment.”

“Okay, well then hand me the paper you were just scribbling on” You pointed and the scrap paper, brows furrowing when you watched him shake his head ‘no”. 

“No can do babe, it’s covered with stuff already. Just write it on my hand”

“Sero, this is a permanent marker, I’m not going to do that!”

“I think I’m more than comfortable with permanent ink on my skin,” Sero winked, moving his palm closer to you “It’ll come off in a few days, but hey, if you don’t want me to leave you could just say so~”

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes again, hating that he was right and you were wasting time yet again to have him stay longer. You acquiesced, taking hold of his hand to keep it steady as you carefully wrote your number, being sure it was as clear as possible to avoid any confusion or mishaps that could be caused if you didn’t.

You watched as Sero left, head held high and chest filled with puffed-up pride as he sauntered back to the parlor; clearly happy with himself at winning you over and gaining your number.

~

It only took four days before you got the message from Sero; stating, with plenty of exclamation marks, about how your design was done and to stop by at any time to come and review the sketches - he was more than happy to squeeze you in at a time that worked best for you; whether that be between a client or after-hours.

And well, the thought of coming after hours was tempting, your confidence in quelling those nerves that swam in your stomach wasn’t strong enough yet; you were already pushing your limits when it came to the tattoo appointment. But the thought of you extending your lunch break by a few minutes seemed like a good idea.

The sign said ‘Closed for Lunch’ when you finally made your way across the street, and though Sero was insistent that you could come in regardless, you were still a little hesitant; standing by the door debating whether to knock or just walk in.

The decision was made for you when a woman with beautiful soft pink hair opened the door, startling you out of your thoughts as she asked if she could help you with anything.

“I-i’m just here to review some sketches…” You mumbled, hands playing nervously with your phone that still had the messages from Sero open “But I can come back if you’re closed!”

“It’s with Sero right?” She inquired, golden eyes squinting at you as they scanned you from head to toe; 

“Yeah..” You nodded your head, trying your best not to shift your body in reaction to her gaze.

“Oh my gosh! So it’s you! The librarian across the street!” She squealed, wasting no time in taking your arm and pulling you into the shop  “I’ve heard so much about you! Just been dying to meet you! I’m Mina, one of the artists here.”

“Bookstore owner….” You mumbled, casting a shy smile her way as you gave her your name “Heard about you as well, it’s really nice to meet you too”

“Right, bookstore owner, sorry about that!” Mina waved in apology, taking a step back to appraise you once more “and I gotta say, super jealous of Sero that he snagged you as his client; you’re a total babe! Like, that outfit is to die for! Where’s you get it?”

You could feel the blood rush to your face at her statement, her brazen compliment both flattered and embarrassed you as you mumbled out a ‘thank you’ as you gazed down at what you were wearing.

“And oh my god, your nails!” She exclaimed again, taking hold of your hand to inspect closely inspect your delicately painted fingernails “These are so pretty! Where’d you get them done?”

“Uh, the spa a few blocks down the road” You answered with a breathless laugh at her enthusiasm “They always do a good job.”

“I can tell! I’ve always wanted to check them out, but was a little unsure, but now I’m definitely gonna go as soon as I can!” She squealed, squeezing your hand in delight “Oh, but you’re not here for me, which is a total bummer. Sero’s station is just back here, I’ll let him know you’re here!”

You gave her your thanks, appreciating her help and unknowingly helping you become more at ease, as she led you to Sero’s area; leaving you with a wave and a promise he’ll join you in a few minutes. 

His area was quite spacious, possibly the largest out of the others you passed, and the furthest from the front door. His chair and equipment sat near the center of it all, just slightly off to the left for others to pass by, and looked clean and organized as you peered around the room. He had a work table as well, pressed up against the wall, with a book of design and sketches.

If you were braver you would have opened it and gone through the slightly worn pages to see what they contained. But instead, you opted to scan the wall before you, taking in the fun, wild, and beautiful designs that were taped to them; staring in awe at just how beautiful they all were. Masterpieces in black and coloured ink, ones you were sure some lucky people got to wear proudly on their skin.

Or perhaps they were littered on his…

Sadly, you couldn’t allow your mind the chance to wander to such thoughts, to wonder just how much of his body was covered in ink and how low some tattoos would travel, before you hear his footsteps approaching.

“Hey! Admiring the wall?” He greeted, his smile as bright and friendly as always when he greeted you

“Yeah, the designs are beautiful” You glanced back at him with a smile “But I think you already knew that.”

“What can I say, just like hearing people sing my praises!” He joked with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders before walking up to you “But we’re not here to talk about these, eh?”

You watched as he gently, smoothly, pulled open a large drawer at the table you were currently standing at, one you didn’t realize was there given the sleek design. Carefully he pulled out a tiny stack of papers, laying them out before you to inspect and admire, as his arm kept him leaning over the table, and more importantly, you.

You tried your best not to be affected by his voice, how his breath tickled your ear, as he spoke about the direction he went with the designs. Some larger, more detailed as they encompassed all the things you loved - like the barn owl sounded by flora and books before a full moon - and some that were smaller, simply beholden of a single item you loved, like a sitting fox amongst fall leaves; and where on your body each tattoo would be placed.

He left a pause when he was done speaking, allowing you the chance to mill over what he said; to further inspect his designs, and to take your time in picking out what you wanted most; unable to help himself from staring at you, eyes half-lidded, as you bit your lip in concentration.

“I like the fox,” you finally whispered, pulling the sketch closer to you to admire it further, already imagining where it will sit on your arm.

“Yeah?” was all Sero could breathe out as he leaned in closer to you

“Mm-hmm” You nodded, finally turning your head to face him; watching as his eyes gazed at your lips, causing you to do the same “...h-how much will it be?”

You could feel your breath catching in your throat as Sero ignored your question, instead taking the opportunity to lean his face closer to yours; feeling his breath gently fan against your lips as you shut your eyes in anticipation; wanting nothing more than to feel what his kiss would be like.

“Sero, delivery is here!”

A gruff voice is what made you turn your head away; face scrunching in frustration over the unwanted interruption. You heard him sigh; feeling cold and a little disappointed when you felt his warmth pull away from you.

“Yeah… I’ll be right there Bakugou…” Sero spoke firmly, trying his best to keep his voice from sounding frustrated and annoyed as he looked back at his friend “Just finishing up here.”

Sero took another deep breath, one that turned into a loud sigh, over the now-ruined moment as he pulled the fox design from the pile of paper; taking a step away from you with a shake of his head.

“Don’t worry about paying, it’s on the house.” He gave a pained smile, slowly backing his way towards the backrooms, to where Bakugou was waiting “Just pick a day with Mina and we’ll go from there, ‘kay?”

You simply nodded your head, giving him a small smile and wave as you watched him disappear; taking the time to finally release the air you were holding as you clenched your fist in anger over your ruined kiss; at how perfect Bakugou’s timing was in all of it.

But after a moment, you couldn’t help but laugh; shaking your head in amusement as slowly made your way back to the front desk to book your appointment; knowing you had to get back to work soon and relieve your assistant.

~

It wasn’t long before the day of your tattoo arrived; the Saturday you booked it for came faster than anticipated, though the entire day felt like a year as you kept glancing at the clock to see how much time has passed, only to groan to yourself when it showed a mere 10-minutes.

Cataloging books did help with your dilemma, taking your mind off the many hours between you and seeing Sero again, as you continuously went up and down your little ladder to put the many returned books away. And before long, it was 9:00 pm, and you could flip your sign to ‘Closed’ and make your way across the street. 

You were surprised, given that the parlor was supposedly closed - or at the very least seeing their last clients at that point of the night - to see all the artists by the front desk chatting away; almost as if they were waiting for you to arrive.

“There you are!” Mina exclaimed, making her way from behind the desk over to where you stood, taking your jacket, and hanging it up for you “Thought you got cold feet on us!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that” You smiled, allowing her to complete her courteous gesture “And if I did cancel I would make sure you knew.”

“Are you excited!? First tattoos are always the most fun!”

“I am! Been looking forward to this all week!” 

“Oh, I’m sure you have~” Mina winked, “Now, let me introduce you to the other artist! Well, we’re all friends here but ya know.” She guided you over to where the three men stood, pointing first to a blonde with an unamused expression “You already met Bakugou last time you were here, I think you met Kaminari when he was at your store a few weeks back. And that giant redhead is Kirishima - he looks more scary than he is!”

 “It’s really nice to meet you!” Kirishima smiled, nudging Bakugou to acknowledge your presence - which he did in the form of a nod - before extending his hand out to you to shake “Heard a lot about you, been meaning to stop by your store for a while now. Apparently, you give good recommendations!”

“Oh, I do?” You asked, gingerly shaking his hand with a confused expression

“Of course you do, babe! Why else would Sero keep bugging you~” Kaminari jumped in, winking as he took your hand in his own and squeezed it “Nice to see you in our neck of the woods finally.”

“Okay okay! That’s enough, you guys!” Sero finally emerged, walking his way in between the group to disperse them; pulling Kaminari away from you to force him to let go of your hand “You should all be getting ready to leave, as you said you would!”

“Oh come on man! We just wanted to say hi to her!” Kaminari whined as he, and the rest of the group, were huddled towards to back of the place while you stood in place, fighting off a wave of giggles that were threatening to overcome you over the whole scene.

After a moment Sero returned, smoothing out his shirt as he tries his best to act as nonchalantly as possible; an act you could see right through given the blush that was dusting his cheeks but decided not to comment on.

“Sorry about all that, you ready to get started?” He asked, hand running through his hair nervously.

You hum in agreement, head nodding as you let him guide you back to his station; once there he motioned for you to get comfortable on the plush leather chair as he got his equipment ready.

 “Your friends are really nice,” You commented, tugging up the sleeve of your shirt for ease of access.

“Yeah, they are” Sero admitted, chuckling to himself “Pains in the ass half the time, but they mean well”

“Well, that’s how you know they love you” You chimed, sitting more upright as you watched him press an alcohol swab against your skin for a moment

“Guess you’re right.” He shrugged, holding up the stencil of your tattoo next to your arm “You want the tattoo here or a little lower?”

“No, there looks good! After all, you are the expert” You smiled, allowing him to press the paper against your skin; feeling him pressing down on it, before removing it to showcase the temporary art that was to forever be marked on your skin.

“Yeah that looks good,” He murmured, taking his tattoo machine in hand and dipping it in ink “Now, you let me know if this hurts, or becomes too unbearable okay?”

“Okay..” You bit your lip and nodded your head as you stared at the machine.

“Don’t worry, on arms you normally can’t feel anything” Sero reassured “ and I’ve got a steady hand which helps. All this just looks more scary than it is.”

“Like Kirishima”

“Yeah!” He laughed, shaking his head at your silly, but accurate, comment “Just like Kiri. Now, take a deep breath for me, kay?”

You nodded and did as you were told, taking a deep breath as his machine whirled to life; you watched with bated breath as it approached your skin, letting out a large sigh of relief when it finally touched you and no pain could be felt.

“See? Not so bad, yeah?” Sero smiled, slowly beginning to outline his design.

“Yeah…”

You didn’t converse much after that, not because you didn’t want to, but rather because you were blown away by Sero’s skills and concentration. You had never seen this side of him before. Normally he was goofy, animated, and fun, which you thought was endearing and cute; gave him his boyish charm. But now? As you watched his brows furrow and eyes look at you with such steely focus, you couldn’t help but find him extremely attractive. Choosing not to break the silence in fear of breaking his concentration, and thus this newfound allure, or embarrassing yourself.

Though he did make it difficult.

Throughout the entire session, every time he needed to shade something or thicken a line, he would always praise you after; claiming you were doing ‘such a good job’ for pushing through it; or for being called a ‘good girl’ when you took a needed deep breath at the right moment in time.

He said it so often that you can’t tell if he’s being reassuring or doing it to get a rise out of you; to tease you to see you get all hot and bothered.

Whatever the case was, it was affecting you way more than it should have; lighting a small fire deep within your core as you tried to rub your thighs together without him noticing to relieve some of the newfound pressure, as you suppressed all the small squeaks your wanted body wanted to let out every time another praise left his mouth.

It was agonizing torture in the best possible way; and when the session was finally done, when he was gently placing cellophane wrap over your fresh tattoo, you weren’t sure whether you were relieved or disappointed that it was all over.

“How much…” You gently cleared your throat, voice a little raspy over underuse “How much do I owe you again?”

“I already told you, babe,” Sero chuckled, carefully putting away his equipment “It’s on the house, my treat for you allowing me to borrow all those books.”

“You paid for those, Sero” You shot back, legs moving over the side of the chair as you leaned closer to him; showcasing your cleavage further from the lowcut hem of your shirt “I can’t just let you give me something like this for free - it’s not fair.”

“I told you, I like doing this.” He shrugged, ignoring you and your subsequent subtle attempts of seduction “More than happy to do this for you, think of it as a first-timer bonus!”

“There must be some way I can pay you back”

It was your tone that made Sero’s back straighten, clearing his throat he carefully placed what was in his hand down to turn and face you - breathing ceasing when he saw you sitting so pretty for him; the dark look in your eye making this cock twitch to life in his pants.

Sero couldn’t help it when his tongue poked out to lick his lips, unable to stop his eyes from trailing over your figure sitting before him; his own legs spreading further apart as he shifted a little closer to you; making you bite your lip. 

“How about finally going on that date with me?” He offered, hands twitching in his lap as he tried his best to restrain himself from touching you without permission.

“Payments happen immediately after a service…it wouldn’t be right paying you back days later, especially after you did such an amazing job” You reasoned, your voice barely above a whisper as you tilted your head up; brushing your nose against his “I prefer to pay you back now, kay?”

“Kay…” Sero barely even had the chance to whisper the word out before your lips pressed firmly into his; hands fisting into his shirt to keep him from pulling away.

As if Sero even wanted to move away, his own hands reaching out to pull you closer to him; closing any inch of space between him and your soft body. His hand cupped your face to deepen the long-awaited kiss that he dreamed about for weeks, as he slotted between your legs, groping and pinching the meat of your thigh as he hiked your leg up to wrap around his waist as he placed more of his weight onto you; groaning into your open when your clothed cunt brushed against his hardening length.

Your sweet, breathless, mewls were addicting and it made his mind dizzy with lust as his lips descended down your jaw and onto your neck; licking and sucking on the sensitive skin you so graciously barred to him, biting down on your pulse to hear you cry out his name into the heated air as he continued to grind his hips against yours.

His kisses continued downwards to your chest, pulling your shirt down - not bothering or wanting to take a mere moment to part from you to properly rid yourself of the article of clothing - before his lips began to suckle at the plump flesh his found; moaning into the heated flesh as he relished the way your hand began to tangle and tug at his hair.

It was all so much, and yet not enough for you; the fire that slowly emerged in your core was raging for me, not being fully satisfied with his sweet kisses or the grind of his hips. You needed more, been craving for more for hours, and you were starting to get a little impatient as you guided the hand pinching and stroking your thigh up to your core.

“Sero, please, touch me more,” You sighed out, legs widening to give him better access as held his hand against the damp cotton of your panties

“Hanta,” He corrected you, wringing his hand from your grasp to slowly stroke his knuckle up and down your slit “call me that, and I’ll do what you want, you needly little thing.”

“Hanta, please? Want you…” You whined, arching your back in an attempt to get more friction; unable to keep the smile off your face when you heard him groaning; clearly loving the way his name sounded off your needy tongue.

“That’s a good girl, hips up” He gently coaxed your lower half off the chair to pull your panties down your leg; pocketing them for later, before slowly guiding your legs to spead even wider for him “Already so wet after a few kisses, hm?” 

You looked away, face buried into his neck, the heat burning your cheeks in embarrassment over his teasing, as you nodded your head - unable to muster the courage to say the truth - as your heart fluttered over his rumbling chuckle.

“Aw, are we shy now?” He teased even more, deft fingers spreading your lower lips apart to gently stroke at your hardened clit “You weren’t shy a second ago when you asked me to play with this pretty pussy, want me to stop?”

He felt you shake your head, a sweet little whine accompanying the motion, as you continued to cling to him; your warm breath, coming out in pants, next to his ear made him slow his pace to one that could barely be considered movement.

“I dunno, it sure seems like you do” 

“N-no!” You mumbled, gripping his shirt tighter; biting your lip to suppress another whine threatening to escape. “Please don’t stop..”

“Then let me see that pretty face, hm,” He asked, tone still mirthful as he watched you slowly come out of your hiding spot “There you are, look at you, huh? All cute and flustered, you like what I’m doing that much?”

You nodded your head, once more, voice squeaking out a ‘yes’ as you felt his fingers resume a faster pace - swirling your bundle of nerves before slipping into your wet heat; your own hand coming down to grasp his forearm over the sudden intensity.

“That feels good, baby? You like my fingers?” Sero hummed, lips grazing your ear as he leaned closer to you, gazing down to watch his fingers go in and out of your drenched hole.

“God yes, Hanta!” You couldn’t help but cry out, throwing your head back, as you felt his fingers curl; stroking that sweet spot within your gummy walls that you made you see stars.

“Yeah you do,” He groaned, feeling your slick drip down his wrist as he repeated the motion “you wanted this, didn’t you? That’s why you wore that cute little skirt, huh?”

Sero watched you nod your head, though the blissed-out look on your face made him question if you even heard what he said as your hips began to wiggle, legs shaking as you neared your release.

“Can feel you twitching around my fingers, pretty girl, you gonna cum for me?” He asked, as his free hand pushed down your squirming hips “Hey, hey, don’t whine! I’ll give you what you want, promise”

His swollen lips brushed against your collarbone, a subtle gesture to prove he meant what he said - that he wasn’t going to tease you or stop you from going over the edge; his thumb twisting up to rub at your clit to help ease you over the edge you were climbing.

“That’s it, cum for me, god you sound so pretty, keep twitching for me.” He groaned, fingers working frantically as your cries grew higher in pitch.

Everything went white for a moment, an end to the mounting pleasure he was giving you, the world was forgotten for a brief moment as you succumbed to the pleasure; your back arched almost painfully as your legs clamped around his wrist; your entire form shaking from the intensity as eyes rolled back into your skull. The only thing that kept you in the realm was his deep voice cooing down at you as you felt your juices run down your thighs and stick to the surface of his leather chair.

“There she is…” He mumbled, lips kissing all over your face and chest to slowly help ease you back down “Slowly, that’s it, you did so good for me…”

“Hanta, s’too much!” You whined, bucking your hips away from his still-moving fingers; ones that were still slowly stroking your soaking cunt; hissing when he finally took them out.

“Sorry, sorry,” He chuckled, hands returning to stroke your thighs and hips as he gazed down at you “You certainly know how to stroke a man’s ego, huh? Never had a girl do that from my touch.”

You groaned one that turned into a giggle, as your hands came up to your face to hide from another wave of heated embarrassment “Well, to be fair, never had a guy touch me like that. Can’t blame a girl for enjoying it!”

“No I can’t, glad you liked it so much, baby” He murmured, pulling your hands from your face to kiss you once more, murmuring sweet nothing to you between each small kiss as his hands wandered again, up and down your body, smiling into the kiss when he felt your hands do the same.

“A-ah!” Sero moaned, unable to stop his hips from bucking to your small hand that started to stroke at the large bulge in his pants; another one choking out, ending in a whimper, when you applied more pressure.

“Can I return the favour?” You asked, voice sounding so saccharine and confident that it made his head spin at the total 180 you just pulled with your demeanor.

“N-no,” He whimpered out, hand grasping at your wrist - just as yours did before - to stop you from continuing your sinful motions.

“Why not?” You whined, the pout you gave almost made him regret his choice, “Wanna make you feel good…”

“I know you do, but I won’t be able to last long if you keep that up” He reasoned, clasping your hands in his to bring them away from his twitching, aching cock.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“God, you’re too much…” He mumbled, head shaking in amusement as he cleared his throat, trying his best not to let you get the best of him as he watched you squirm.

Your pout was still prevalent on your swollen lips as you gazed up at him, calling out to him once more in that saccharine sweet voice “But I wanna make you cum.”

Sero couldn’t help but groan again, head turning away from you as he thought of anything else at that moment - things that made him cringe in his past - to try and stop himself from creaming in his pants like a teenager. With his voice strained, hoarse with effort, as he instructed you to lay back.

You do as you are told, heat in your belly igniting once more when you hear the clinking of his belt unbuckling; bending your legs up, to get betting frictions on your tingling nub, as you waited as patiently as you could for his return.

The chair groaned, squeaking slightly, at the added weight Sero provided, as he situated himself between your legs once more. You gasped, one that turned into a moan, when you felt his cock head tap at your entrance; his hard length sliding up and down your slit - teasing you as he coats himself in your juices.

“Hanta…!” You groan out, hips bucking to try and slip him inside; groaning once more in frustration when you feel his hands pin your hips down once more “Hurry up!”

“So impatient, naughty, naughty, naughty ” He clicks his tongue at you, chuckling at the frustrated glance you cast his way “Just give me a second, don’t wanna hurt you after all”

You huff, brows furrowing further as acquiesced; knowing thing it was for the better to have him take things slow - but the burning in your core was making it difficult for you to have a clear and level head; wanting nothing more to feel him fill you up.

After another agonizing minute, you slowly feel him sink into your heat; feeling his fat cock stretch you out so agonizingly slow that it makes you throw your head back and moan; mouth agape as you feel every inch bury itself deeper into your core.

“God, you’re tight!” Sero hisses, body taut as he holds himself above you as he continued pushing into you “Already milking me, baby, damn!”

You both groan when he finally bottoms out, breathing labored as they mingle together in-between tiny kisses as you both try to adjust; legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him down to you, as he begins his slowly thrusting into you.

His thrusts were almost teasing with how slowly he was moving, dragging his cock out languidly from your gummy walls before slowly returning back into your warmth - but they were precise, with each thrust hitting every sweet spot you had; making your eyes cross as you fell into the throws of pleasure over his slow lovemaking.

Over time though, Sero could not keep up the unhurried pace; what was once a tactic to ensure that he didn’t cum too early, to properly worship you and your perfect body, was now not enough - his body needed more. His lips attached to yours, kisses muffling the sweet moans that you were making as he slowly picks up his pace; thrusts turning sloppy and hurried, a fair cry from before, as Sero now becomes unable to hold off his own pleasure; frantically trying to chase his release.

The sloppy, wet, noises of your pussy could be heard over your constant moans, over the  sound of his skin slapping against yours, and it was becoming overwhelming - his thumb joining his frenzied hips as he rubbed at your clit; trying desperately to get you up and over that edge before him, to feel your walls flutter and clasp his weeping cock as it did his fingers before he spilled into you.

But he failed, your wanton moans as they called out his name, and the sharp sting of your nails and they dug into his back pushed him too far; quickly pulling out with a choked wail he came; spilling his hot seed all over your thighs and stomach.

“I-I’m sorry” he gasped, trying to regain his breath - body, and cock, still twitching over the intensity of his organism; leaving you for a brief moment to get a clean rag from his equipment table to clean you up.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, voice still raspy and sore, as you watched him methodically clean you up.

“Well, you know, about getting you all messy. And…. yeah…” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders, too embarrassed to look at you or saw the real reason he apologized.

It made you smile, though you did your best to contain the giggles that threaten to pass your lips as you watched him. Sitting up, you pushed the hand that was cleaning you away, pulling him back down into you for a kiss.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind getting messy. Part of the fun, right?” You giggled, nudging your nose with his trying to lighten the mood; effectively making a small smile tug at his lips as he returned your kiss.

“Besides…” you whispered, hands coming down to teasingly stroke his chest “My place isn’t too far from here. If you wanted, you could spend all night making it up to me”

“Aren’t you a naughty girl,” Sero smirked, hands grabbing the meat under your thighs as he picked you up from his chair; moving your legs to wrap around his hips to keep you upright and in place “But, I think my place is closer.”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #sero hanta x reader #sero x reader #bnha sero #mha sero #bnha oneshots #mha oneshot #sero x you #bnha smut #mha smut #sero hanta smut #sero smut #🔮.the peddler brews #🔮.potion for sero

[harringtonswriting]

stuck on you | e.m.

summary: the one where eddie makes a mess trying to be the best dungeon master ever, though luckily he's got you to help him clean it up (though wayne's poor carpet may never recover) and help him bring his dreams to life pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader warning(s): light language word count: 2k notes: hi hiii!! sorry it's been a little bit since i last posted, life has gotten increasingly wild over the last week and i haven't had the time to edie or post this til now. i've got a few more eddie and steve fics im working on too, hopefully coming in the next few days. requests are always welcome too! i hope you enjoy! <3

...

There are certain things about Eddie that you’ve gotten used to since the two of you started dating. His love for metal music, the smell of cigarettes and his cologne that forever clings to his clothes and his van, the fact that the drain in your shower will never be free from his hair… the list goes on. But you love him, every part of him, and it’s been wonderful getting to know those parts, for better or for worse.

However, Eddie always seems to find new ways to surprise you.

Like tonight, when you got home from work to your phone ringing off the hook because Eddie needs to borrow your hot glue gun.

“Babe, it’s for a very important cause,” he tells you, “like, the most important of causes! Lives are at stake here.”

Fortunately—or rather, maybe unfortunately, since you just so happen to enjoy seeing his face—since you couldn’t see him, you weren’t able to witness the theatrics he was most likely putting on, though you could imagine them. Hand over his heart, his head thrown back, and the grin you know is on his face. “Lives are at stake? Whose lives?”

“Well, mostly my life, but that’s still a life.” You laugh, just a little, and Eddie does too. “I just need it for tonight. A few hours, really, to put some stuff together for a personal project. Mine had… an accident and now no longer works. Without potentially starting a fire.”

Which is not something you want happening—and you’re sure Eddie’s Uncle Wayne doesn’t want his trailer set on fire either. Not after the last time there was an accident. So you sigh, twirling the cord of your phone around your fingers.

“Give me ten minutes to find it and get it over to you,” you tell him, and he cheers over the line. You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone, before packing up your hot glue gun and getting ready to head over to Eddie’s place. It doesn’t take you too long to find it, thankfully, and then you’re out the door and off to see your boyfriend.

The trip there is fairly uneventful, and before you know it you’re at his trailer. You head up the stops and knock on the door, and you can hear Eddie yell out for you to come in. You do so, slipping your shoes off at the door, and stop immediately at the sight you see in the living room.

Eddie is in the middle of a veritable maelstrom of arts and crafts supplies. You can see cardboard, paper, and popsicle sticks scattered all over the floor, and even different coloured glitter in Eddie’s hair, on his face, and stuck to the craft glue all over his hands. Which is probably also all over the phone hanging on the wall in the kitchen, which you’re going to leave alone for now.

Eddie himself doesn’t even look sheepish; he grins at you, giving you finger guns as you carefully walk as close to him as you can get.

“Hey sweetheart, come here often?” he asks, and you snort as you drop the bag holding your hot glue gun onto the floor.

“Did a tornado come through here?” you counter, gesturing at the mess in front of him. It really does look like a craft store exploded in Eddie’s living room. Or, rather, Hurricane Eddie came through and got glitter absolutely everywhere. Thankfully he’s not wearing his Hellfire shirt, otherwise this would not be nearly as funny as it is. You really wished you’d brought your Polaroid camera with you to take some pictures of this, because this is a moment you want to keep with you forever.

“Oh, you’re so funny, babe,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “No, I… was trying to make some badass new dungeon maps for Hellfire tomorrow but I forgot my glue gun was broken. Which is why I called you, because aside from seeing your pretty face, I really kind of need to borrow yours.”

Ah, that makes sense. As the DM, Eddie was in charge of running the campaigns, which included bringing the maps each week. You’d seen a few before, but they’d been big pieces of paper he’d drawn on, showing you ones from previous years he still keeps in a box under his bed. But there’s more than just paper out on the floor now, so you’re pretty sure Eddie’s got some big plans for these new ones. You know Eddie never half-asses anything, which you love about him, but you also know it leads to situations like this. Which you will absolutely remember, and use to your advantage whenever you can in the future. Maybe Wayne has a camera somewhere…

You shake your head. You’ll worry about that later. Right now, you know you should probably help Eddie clean this up so he can start properly making the maps he has in mind. You start rolling up your sleeves and moving things around to clear a path on the floor to where he’s sitting, wanting to try and keep your clothes as clean as you can so you don’t end up like your boyfriend.

“What’re you doing? I appreciate you bringing the glue gun, but you don’t have to stay,” he says, but you shake your head.

“And leave you with all of this? Not happening. Go clean up, Eddie, and I’ll get everything sorted out,” you tell him, helping him up and shooing him off in the direction of the bathroom. He goes with minimal complaining, shouting that he loves you as you hear the bathroom door close behind him.

While Eddie is washing his hands and hopefully getting rid of as much glitter and glue as he can, you start trying to organize the chaos on the living room floor. You salvage what you can of the cardboard-glitter-glue mess (which Wayne will never be able to fully get out of the carpet), putting that off to one side before sorting everything else out by type; you put paper with paper, gather all the popsicle sticks into a pile, and even find a few bags of googly eyes and buttons that you put together, hidden under some of Eddie’s worn out notebooks detailing a whole bunch of information about past and current D&D campaigns. You can see some drawings he’s done, different notes scribbled in the margins, with mini maps and charts and so much more flowing across the pages as you take a moment to flip through them.

He returns with his boombox and a few tapes as you’re plugging in your glue gun and resting it on a small piece of cardboard to protect the carpet, and he puts it down out of the way but still close enough to reach from where he sits on the floor next to you. He slides a tape in, and you recognize it as one of his Led Zeppelin tapes when it starts playing at a low volume.

Eddie moves so his knee is touching yours as you sit side by side on his living room floor. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him through his jeans, and you rest your palm on his knee as it starts bouncing.

“So… where are we starting? What were you trying to make first?” you ask, and Eddie shuffles a little closer to you to grab one of his notebooks.

“Okay, well, at first I was just trying to make a few maps for the next Hellfire session tomorrow night,” he explains, flipping the pages until he comes to a page marked “RAVENLOFT MAPS” in his scratchy writing. You can see some outlines on the page, including one that looks like a castle. “But then I was thinking, well, what’s a map without props? And wouldn’t it be cool to have working doors and trap doors? And walls and windows? A 3D map would make it so much more badass. So I was trying to put it all together, but the only glue I had was that shitty craft glue shit that’s all runny and wouldn’t dry right, and it was right next to the glitter that I forgot about.” Which is where you can imagine the sparkling gold flakes you can still see in his hair came from. You let him continue explaining his train of thought, following along as he explains things and shows you different pages of his notes. You nod and make comments where you can, and start moving things around in front of you to make different piles based on what he wants done.

When Eddie finishes, he tilts his head slightly and looks at you. “So… what do you think?”

“I think we need to blow the club’s minds by turning all the great ideas you have into some new maps,” you tell him, and you swear that in the evening light spilling through the living room window, he starts to glow as he throws an arm around your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Now you’re talking, sweetheart!”

And with that, the two of you start working on bringing Eddie’s ideas to life. It takes you well into the night to get it all done, but by the time you’re finished, he’s got three new maps with walls, windows, and even a few working doors and trapdoors (popsicle stick hinges work wonders). He’s got curtains made out of some old t-shirt scraps he had on the tiny windows in the castle map, and even some miniature props that you know aren’t your best work, but Eddie sings your praises as he holds them in his hands.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says, when everything is finished and laid out to dry and set completely overnight. The two of you are cleaning up, waiting for your hot glue gun to cool down before you pack it up. You shrug, tying off the garbage bag in your hands and putting it in the bin in the kitchen.

“Suffer, probably.” He laughs, and the sound makes your chest feel warm as you stand in his dimly lit kitchen. “Think you can handle things from here?”

“You’re talking to Eddie the Banished, master of dungeons and of the Munson keep,” he says, opening his arms to make a sweeping motion as he gestures to the area around you. “‘Course I can, but you know you can stay here, too. It’s pretty late.” He isn’t even bothering to hide his grin as he throws his own garbage bag in the bin and moves forward to wrap his arms around you.

“I have work in the morning,” you tell him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and he groans. You’re not happy about it either because you’re tired and would love to crawl into bed with your fluffy haired boyfriend, but you’ll have all weekend for that. “But I’ll come see you after Hellfire tomorrow night and we can spend the whole weekend together. Sounds good?”

“Sounds amazing, sweetheart.” He returns your kiss with one of his own, before pressing another to your forehead and walking you to your door. He hands you the bag with your glue gun and watches as you leave. You wave, and he waves back, and though you’re exhausted, a smile stays on your face the entire trip home, and you’re able to drift off to sleep thinking about how much you’re absolutely in love with the guy who got glitter and pieces of popsicle sticks stuck in his hair.

…

When you meet up with Eddie after Hellfire the next night, Dustin and the other kids take the opportunity to tell you all about the sick new maps Eddie had come with as they pile into Steve’s BMW, and how they can’t wait for next week to see what else he comes up with. Gareth and Jeff echo the sentiment as they leave as well. You wave goodbye, and Eddie is nearly vibrating with how pleased he is that the rest of the club loved the maps.

(And he doesn’t waste a moment in kissing you til you’re dizzy when he sees the big bag of craft supplies you’ve brought him, including a brand-new hot glue gun in its own carrying case with his name written on the handle in sharpie.)

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things reader insert #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #stranger things

[maniculum]

The College of Grotesque Arts -- Week Six

For new people, I’m doing the Dungeon23 megadungeon project, basing each room on the marginalia of a different page in the 14th-century Luttrell Psalter. Previous entries in this project can be found here.

Room 2.5: f.30v

Had a bit of trouble working out what to do with this page. Spent a while trying to figure out what this woman is holding; the only explanation I was able to find online is that this is St. Catherine holding a representation of the wheel she was tortured on. Hm.

The floor of this empty and perfectly circular room is in constant rotation like a wheel for some reason. (Appendix A actually made this one circular, which I see as serendipity.) The floor is uneven, apparently by design — the floor is constructed out of stone blocks, which seem to form steps up or down apparently at random. Walking across the floor will require a Balance check. Falling does a small amount of damage. Entering or exiting likewise requires a check to move through the door without falling.

Broken mechanisms scattered about the room resemble distaffs, spindles, and other sewing tools. Was this some kind of textile-related device? The world will never know.

Room 2.6: f.31r

The eastern portion of this room is occupied by an artificial pond.

The pond is filled with small blue-gold minnows.

There are also geese, being hunted by a fox.

Sunk into the mud at the bottom of the pond are the remains of Ilger, a previous explorer of the dungeon. Ilger was a cleric who held some rank in his former church, and may have some good items on him. (That crozier looks pretty fancy…) If anyone uses speak with dead, Ilger is from a sect that practices burial at sea, and he’s pretty sure his former party would have tossed his body in the pond as a gesture towards that. He suspects that, had they survived, they would have retrieved him to either resurrect him or take him to a proper sea.

Room 2.7: f.31v

Appendix A originally had this room connected to 2.8 and 2.10, also by secret doors, but I’ve decided that’s silly. Anyway. That hallway to the east there appears to end in an empty storage closet, but a bit of examination will reveal that the back wall will swing open with a good enough push. 

When the door is opened, a fungal stench wafts out, followed by a handful of flegatters. The room has an unfinished dirt floor, and fungus of some kind has been encouraged to grow over the walls. It is inhabited by a seemingly endless quantity of these flegatters. A flegatter is, essentially, a bright orange slug that has been granted wings. It’s extremely venomous. These creatures have escaped to the outside world, so a Knowledge(Nature) check would warn you about them — probably too late for anyone who was in the closet when the door was opened, though.

Flegatter: CR 2, XP 600; N Fine Magical Beast; Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 20, touch 20, flat-footed 18 (+8 size, +2 Dex); hp 26 (3d10+9); Saves Fort +6, Ref +5, Will +1; Immunities Poison

OFFENSE: Speed 5 ft., fly 10 ft.; Melee contact +7 (0 damage + poison); Space 0 ft.; Reach 0 ft.; Special Attacks Poison (Ex)

STATISTICS: Str 2, Dex 14, Con 17, Int 2, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +3; CMB -9; CMD 3; Feats Acrobatic, Athletic; Skills Fly +10; Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Poison (Ex): Anyone who comes into contact with a flegatter has been exposed to a venom that has a Fortitude save DC of 14, a frequency of 1/round for 10 rounds, causes 1d2 Con damage, and takes two saves to cure.

Flegatters don’t so much attack as they just stick to you and then you’re poisoned. They may do this on purpose; they’re carnivorous, and just landing on something then waiting for it to die is basically a hunting behavior for them.

If you leave the door open, more flegatters keep coming out.

Room 2.8: f.32r

This page is not great for my purposes. There are some grotesques, but two of them are just “some kind of worm thing with a human face”, which isn’t helpful, and the third is this one, which I just can’t parse in any kind of way I want to engage with:

That leaves us with a human figure, so sure, whatever, there’s a guy here.

This is Hagin, a member of the Gatekeepers, doing a little amateur exploring. (If you’ve really been keeping track, you may remember that the Gatekeepers have Februaria’s keyring and therefore can teleport to this level — the key goes to Room 2.26, though, so Hagin’s wandered some way from where he came in. He does not have the keyring on him.) He’s a sorcerer a couple levels higher than the PCs, and he just happens to be wandering through this room, which is otherwise empty but for two rows of pillars. (I’m also going to put him on the random encounters table for this level, so if the PCs have already run into him, you can choose to not have him in this room.)

Hagin is cheerfully overconfident. He’s of course happy to give the PCs tips or even travel with them, but of course that’ll cost them. The other Gatekeepers would frown on one of their members offering services to explorers free of charge, after all. (Hagin uses that as an excuse, and it’s not untrue, but he doesn’t have any kind of problem with profit-motivated behavior, and would probably charge them for his services regardless.) The fees are exorbitant, but you can haggle. Hagin has a pretty good idea of the contents of this level, but is cagey about sharing unless you pay him.

Room 2.9: f.32v

The room is empty and featureless.

This is the room where Caretaker Three remains when it’s not doing its rounds — if the PCs enter during the day, they will find it here, inactive near the northern wall. It’s a stone construct with a humanoid upper half in bluish stone, and a piscine lower half in reddish stone. Its tail has a little beak on the end, which it uses as a somewhat crude extra hand.

Caretaker Three carries an odd golden staff; one end acts like a set of tongs, and can be used to close around the limb of an escaped creature if needed. This is the Rod of Beaſt Restraint, and will be detailed below the following stats.

Caretaker Three: CR 7, XP 3200; N Medium Construct; Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 21, touch 12, flat-footed 19 (+2 Dex, +9 natural); hp 70 (9d10+20); Saves Fort +3, Ref +5, Will +3; DR 5/- SR 18

OFFENSE: Speed 20 ft., swim 20 ft.; Melee rod +16 (1d12+7) , tail +11 (2d6+7); Spell-Like Abilities (CL 9; DC 10 + spell level): At Will: Create Food and Water, Daze Monster, Minor Creation; 3/day: Charm Monster, Rainbow Pattern, Telekinesis; 1/day: Fabricate, Wall of Force

STATISTICS: Str 24, Dex 14, Con 0, Int 0, Wis 10, Cha 1; Base Atk +9; CMB +16; CMD 28; Special Qualities: Construct Traits

Rod of Beaſt Restraint: Ten times per day, this rod can cast hold monster. Additionally, this rod can be used to initiate a grapple by seizing a creature with the tong-like end; it confers a +5 bonus to your grapple check when you use it in this way. The rod can also be used as a bludgeoning weapon for 1d12 damage. 

Caretaker Three is a little slow and clumsy — the fishtail doesn’t work for movement as well as it might. Like the other Caretakers, it doesn’t interfere with the PCs unless they interfere with it first. If it becomes convinced that they’re a problem, it will attempt to render them unconscious, charmed, or held, then move them to Room 2.26. If it is particularly concerned about them posing a threat, it may begin the combat with a wall of force to cut off escape.

Room 2.10: f. 33r

This room is spacious and high-ceilinged, with a deep soil layer as its floor and two rows of pillars supporting the roof. It has several trees within it, as well as a small pond in the southwest corner.

The pond is stocked with small blue flying fish. That’s exactly what it sounds like. They’re about minnow-size. They don’t go far from the pond, because they can’t breathe out of the water.

The trees contain gold-winged bellbirds. These are standard songbirds, except unusually loud. If agitated, they can deafen anyone within five feet.

The room is also inhabited by unusually friendly squirrels. They seem almost domesticated, even a bit dog-like in the way they react to people.

Room 2.11: f.33v

This is another latrine. The opening to said latrine is located in the southwest corner.

In the southeast corner, there is a rather nice fountain depicting a bird-like grotesque with water coming out of its mouth.

The latrine itself, while clean, is inhabited by a spike-tailed worm. This creature is a blue-and-red serpent with a rabbit-like head and a long, spiked tail. It attacks by constricting, and may well do so if you decide the PCs are having too easy a time of it — if they do not investigate the latrine, feel free to have it emerge and/or grab them.

Spike-Tailed Worm: CR 4, XP 1200; N Medium Magical Beast; Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft, Blindsight 30ft; Perception +11

DEFENSE: AC 18, touch 12, flat-footed 16 (+2 Dex, +6 natural); hp 45 (6d10+12); Saves Fort +6, Ref +7, Will +2

OFFENSE: Speed 30 ft., climb 30 ft.; Melee tail lash +11 (1d8+5/x3); Space 5 ft.; Reach 10 ft.; Special Attacks Constrict (1d8+5), Grab (tail lash)

STATISTICS: Str 20, Dex 15, Con 12, Int 2, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +6; CMB +11 (+15 grapple); CMD 23; Feats Ability Focus (Constrict), Alertness, Toughness; Skills Perception +11; Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits, Blindsight 30ft

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Constrict (Ex): A Spike-Tailed Worm can crush an opponent, dealing 1d8+5 bludgeoning damage, when it makes a successful grapple check (in addition to any other effects caused by a successful check, including additional damage).

Grab (Ex): If a Spike-Tailed Worm hits with its tail lash attack, it deals normal damage and attempts to start a grapple as a free action without provoking an attack of opportunity. Grab can only be used against targets of a size Medium or smaller.

And there’s Week Six. I think I’ve managed to keep this one a bit shorter.

#dungeon23 #college of grotesque arts #d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #pathfinder #medieval art #medieval #medieval creatures #manuscript #illuminated manuscript

[livingalifeofasimp]

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

𝕾𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 - 𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝕯𝖎𝖑𝖚𝖈 𝖃 𝖂𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

Warning : A very cute Diluc try not to get Heart attack, NSFW, yandere themes, possessiveness, I do not support such behavior it's purely for entertainment purpose, if you are sensitive to such content than refrain yourself from reading it, Art belong to respective owners.

Look at him how cute he is! My heart

✥⚜✥ It's weekend, sun still waiting to come out to greet everyone and chill cold air surrounded you as you groaned and get dressed in peach coloured blouse and black high waisted pencil skirt which was cut off in the middle of your thighs for a meeting that was set by your Boss for some important project. Since you have prepared everything with your hard work, you wanted to arrive as early as possible to give your best impression to let them see that you are capable of becoming a leader.

✥⚜✥ You looked towards the love of your life Diluc sleeping peacefully, He looks so cute like this I wish I could stay and enjoy this weekend with him, you thought while removing red strands from his pretty gorgeous face. Hoping that he doesn't miss you too much after working so hard for almost a week he definitely deserves to have some rest, you cooked his favorite meal and wrote 'Babe I am sorry I have some important meeting to attend I have to go, your favorite meal is prepared have a good day I will come home by evening', you wrote on a sticking paper and placed it on the table besides bed.

✥⚜✥ Diluc might run out to find you if you don't do this and will die worrying about you, as you smiled at least you don't have any complain like other girls have from their husbands. You kissed his forehead before making your way out of your room not before giving him a last glace. Suddenly you felt long slender fingers warped around your right wrist stopping you from going outside the room, you turned back seeing, Diluc half asleep rubbing his eyes to adjust the vision.

✥⚜✥ Where.........where are you going?",he said in his deep hoarse voice 'good thing' you thought, it's better to inform him face to face. "I have some meetings to attend right now", he looked at the time and turned towards you, looking up at you with his puppy eyes. "It's so early why does your boss always calls you, you and I work all the week and then the last thing your boss does is to take you from me, arranging some meetings", Diluc felt somewhat sad and angry why does your jerk boss keep on calling you? He is taking all of your time which is rightfully his, if only he could stop you but it's your happiness that allows him to let you do your dream job.

✥⚜✥ "Babe don't say that it's mandatory for everyone to attend today's meeting not just me", your answer made his face sour as he hugged your waist and put his face on your stomach, "No you can take leave for today I want to stay with you, I am so tired not being able to spend time with you no you can't leave me all alone if you wanna go then take me with you I am coming too". "You have to understand I will come early alright". He hugged you even tighter refusing to let you go "Last time you said that too but you didn't come early, are you leaving because I ate your (favorite snacks) then I am really sorry please forgive me", his voice sounded like he could cry anytime, everyone wants to take you away from him should he just lock you up so that you could only love him and give all your time to him. Your daily work kept you separated from him and now even in weekends, he can whine like a kid if it can make you stay.

✥⚜✥ "Diluc baby I forgave you for that already, besides you brought so many that I can't even eat all of them alone" you said while patting his head soft hoping it calms him down. "Then it must be because I haven't been able to give you enough time and love that you wanna run away from me, are you upset from me?, I will try my best, it's all my fault please forgive me I will accept everything just don't go please", then he finally looked at you, tears threatening to fall from his eyes, just what was he thinking all this time. "Babe I only love Diluc and no other men okay", "If you love me then you must stay we can do many things please don't go", at this point Diluc kept his head at the crook of your neck inhaling your sweet smell occasionally peaking your skin, still holding you tight not wanting to let you go.

✥⚜✥ "Y/N are you sure you going home we just started celebrating", one of your colleagues stoped you since your team got the leading project and everyone wanted to celebrate. "I have to, it will be dark soon", you arrived in your residence parking the car in the parking lot. You pressed the ring bell hopping Diluc won't be angry from you since you weren't able to keep your promise. Not even a second passed and door was opened, to your surprise Diluc grabbed you waist, greet you with his lips touching yours and pulled you inside while closing the door with his other hand. His passionate kiss was filled with desperation and longing and refused to depart from you but instead Diluc pulled you closer with your back against the wall.

✥⚜✥ "You said you will make up to me how are you planning on doing that?", his smirk smirk lightly causing your to go red "When did I said that?", he placed his lips against your neck and spoke making you to shiver in his embrace. Diluc strong arms holded your body close as if it's your last, was he sad your intention wasn't to hurt him, you got distracted from your thoughts when suddenly when Diluc bite your neck interlocking his finger with your and pressing himself against you causing your breathe to get uneven, his long soft hair giving you a ticklish feeling, his waist and legs touched your now completely inseparable.

✥⚜✥ Diluc started leaving purple hickeys on your neck marking you since he could smell others cologne coming from you, his jealously reaching heights. How can you be so cruel to leave and forget about him, it can't be your fault you always try to give him your time even if you are tired it's always them, they are being curel on you, he did everything to make you join his company, then you both will together anytime but you rejected continuously since you want to get the job with your own efforts. Diluc pulled away from the work he was doing, making you look at his face dusted with light pick color across his cheeks eyes filled with immense love and lust glittering heart shaped, telling that you can't have your way out.

✥⚜✥You pressed your lips against his soft pink lips gently, Diluc seemed shocked a bit but was soon to caught up with you slipping his tongue inside your mouth exploring, for a second you felt his smiling against your lips happily and you warped your hands around his neck. Diluc bend down to grab your thighs and lift you up making you warp your legs around his waist and kissed you against wall before taking you to bedroom "I suppose you ain't walking tommorow".

#genshin impact #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #tumblr #tumblrfeed #yandere story #genshin impact diluc #yandere diluc #yandere diluc ragnvindr x reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere male #yandere husband x reader

[melwilson]

picture of you | s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

rating: lots of fluff, it’s honestly disgusting

warnings: age-gap (but w/ steve, i don’t think that needs to be said), edited very poorly, oh, and this gif

Steve smiled as soon as he reached the door to your apartment. He could hear Sinatra playing softly on the record player he had gotten you for your birthday. He fished out the keys you had given him months prior. You had said it was for emergencies, but you both knew that it was for safety and so that Steve could come and go as he pleased. Carefully, he pushed the door open, the sweet smell of hibiscus tea meeting him immediately.

You glanced up at the sound of your door opening, your cheeks turning up in an instant. You set down the stick of charcoal and pushed up your glasses with the back of your hand.

“Hey baby,” Steve greeted, beginning to make his way over to you. You jumped up quickly before he could enter the kitchen, stopping him in his tracks. His eyebrows furrowed, gaze moving past you and towards the kitchen table.

“Hi Stevie,” you replied, his attention on you once more. He placed a quick kiss to your forehead before tilting up your chin to place a kiss to your lips. You hummed savoring the feeling before pulling away. 

“New project?” the blonde asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s my final. I’ve been working on it most of the week and all day today.” 

“Have you eaten?” Concern filled Steve’s eyes as he searched your face. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth pulling him to the living room. “You haven’t. Y/n, what did I tell you?” 

You rolled your eyes. “That I needed to take care of myself. I’m more important than my work. I know, I know. I just...I’m so close to being done, I wanted to finish. Plus, I wanted you to be able to see it in person before I turned it in.”  Steve’s eyes softened as he sat down on the couch pulling you with him. “I’ll eat when I’m done. Promise. Give me like an hour.” Before Steve could reply, you placed a kiss on his lips before padding back to the kitchen. 

He shrugged off his brown leather jacket, eyes glued to your frame. It wasn’t uncommon for Steve to watch you while you worked. That was how he met you. You were painting in the park close to your apartment and he couldn’t help but become infatuated by your beauty and the beauty you created. That day he had fallen in love with you. A twenty three year old art student from Paramus. He tried to push his feelings aside because of your age, his job, and your future, but he couldn’t because he- quite literally- would run into you all over the city. One time it was the cafe down the street from the tower and another was a grocery store in the suburbs.

“You followin’ me, Rogers?”

A small smile had tugged at his lips. “Why do you think that?”

You shrugged. “I just didn’t think that Captain America would have to go grocery shopping.”

“Well...they always forget the creamer.”

That was a little over a year ago. Since then, Steve had fallen helplessly in love with you and it terrified him. It terrified him what he would do for you. After the ice and after Peggy, Steve found it hard to put himself back out there. In fact, he never intended to. And he could say that it was love at first sight, but rather it was natural, familiarity. Like he already knew it was you. It was always going to be you. You made it easy to give and receive love. You taught him that loving wasn’t hard with the right person. It wasn’t always going to be easy, but it was worth it. 

Steve looked up to you. You were a naturally a people person. People loved you and your infectious energy and genuine smile. You made everyone feel wanted and loved. And you loved so deeply. Steve knew first hand what it was like to be overwhelmed and engulfed in your presence. You brought peace to his life and loved him like no other. He would follow you to the end of the earth if it meant he’d get to spend another moment with the woman he felt so strongly for. 

As if you could feel his stare, you turned to Steve and sent him a shy smile. And he knew that in that moment that he was falling and he didn’t care where he landed. 

You finished exactly an hour later as promised. After washing your hands, you joined Steve in the living room. His eyes were on the television, engaged in the most recent episode of ‘Survivor.’ An airy laugh fell from your lips as you threw an arm around his shoulders, fingers running across the back of his neck. You placed a soft kiss to his temple, dwelling in his warmth and the fact that he was home with you. You cherished the time you spent together even if it was only for a couple of hours. 

“You done?” 

You nodded, your eyes falling to where Steve’s hands ran the length of your legs, leaving a flash of heat in their wake. He was always so gentle with you. He had been broken. It may not have been obvious to world he had sworn to protect, but just because you may not have been to able to see it doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. Steve has been torn apart brutally, but still had the courage to treat others with a gentleness, love, and respect deeper than the ocean. 

Steve’s voice was soft as he asked, “Can I see it?” 

You stood up helping the blonde to his feet. “Close your eyes.” 

“You serious?” You raised and eyebrow, head cocked to the side. “Fine, fine.”

You squeezed his hand gently as you led him to the kitchen. “Okay, open.” 

You could hear the sharp breath that Steve took and you took one of your own. You never had a problem showing your friends and family your work. In fact, some of your favorite pieces were displayed on the walls of your apartment. But this one was different. It was personal. 

“Y/n...this is me?” You could feel his eyes on you, but your eyes were on the gray and white coated canvas before you. It was a picture of Steve posing stoically, but it wasn’t just Steve. It was Captain America. You rarely ever saw that side of him. He tried to keep his work life separate from his home life. There would be rare day where he’d show up at your apartment in his suit, shield in hand. What he didn’t know, was that you loved seeing that part of him. Steve Rogers. Fearless warrior. Leader. Man of war. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I was supposed to do a portrait based on realism. It was supposed to show someone that, based on your opinion, embodied what being a hero meant. A lot of people in my class chose someone they were related to like their parents. I, um, I chose you. Not because you’re a national hero, though that’s part of it. It’s because when you’re not off saving the world...when you’re here with me, you’re not Cap. You’re Steve, but somehow you still figure out how to save the day. Whether it’s you picking up dinner because you know I haven’t eaten or sending me text in the middle of the day. Everyday you save me, babe. You’ve changed my life. You are my hero.” 

There was a beat of silence and you let your eyes fall from the canvas and onto the man next to you. His bottom lip was tugged between his teeth, eyes a whirlpool of emotions. 

“Do you like it?” 

The blonde looked down at you, confused as to why you would ask such a question. “I love it, Y/n.” He tilted your head up, leaning down to connect your lips together. Even after a year, his touch and the feeling of his lips on yours caused that child-like, butterfly feeling in your stomach. He could still make your heart race, knees weak, and head cloudy. 

You hummed, breathless as you pulled away. 

“I love you,” you said at the same time. 

Steve couldn’t even begin to hide the adoration in those pools of ocean blue. This wasn’t the first time you had said those words to each other, but each time it made his heart swell. He couldn’t believe he had the honor of loving and being loved by you. 

You placed another kiss to his lips, shorter this time, but still just as sweet. “You know how Tony has that hallway with a bunch of portraits of himself? I was thinking we could replace one with this one of you instead.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “You enjoy making Tony mad, don’t you.” 

There was a hidden excitement in your eyes. “Is that a yes?” 

The blonde chuckled pulling you close. “Of course it is.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america #avenger imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #sam wilson #bucky barnes

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 6

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 4k Warnings: slow burn, sad feels/angst, canon-typical violence, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When Fennec Shand reveals your true identity to the Mandalorian, you do your best to pick up the pieces. Notes: I’m sorry this took me so long!! I rewrote it like six times because I couldn’t get it to feel right. Next chapter should be much faster. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme​​ @beskarhearts​​ @dincrypt​ @dunderr​ @honey-hi​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00​ @mbpokemonrulez​  @oloreaa​ @red-leaders​ @speakerforthedead0​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​​ @theflightytemptressadventure​ @ubri812​ @zoemariefit​​

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Fuck. Panic coursed through your veins and paralyzed you. Your brain moved infuriatingly slowly as you tried to think of a way to stop the disaster that was unfolding before your eyes.

And yet...despite your fear and despite the fact that this terrifying, high-level bounty hunter had once tracked you, hearing Fennec call you sweetheart made your stomach drop—in a pleasant way, not at all like when Toro had done the same. She was beautiful, strong, mysterious, intimidating. What little you saw of her fighting style confirmed that she was lithe and exacting—catlike in her grace and prowess. A sexy armored bounty hunter.

I have a type.

You shunted that wildly unhelpful train of thought out of your head to refocus on the crisis at hand.

You looked at Mando. “I—”

“What’s she talking about?” he prompted. You couldn’t tell if you were projecting because you felt guilty or if he really did sound a little hurt.

You opened your mouth again to respond, but Fennec beat you to it.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Even in the dark, you could see Fennec’s eyes sparkle in delight as she addressed Mando. “I don’t know how this one stayed off your radar,” she explained. “She was wanted by the Empire for years. Huge bounty... She looks a little different now—check her chest for a scar to make sure, but I’d bet her bounty it’s there.”

Mando had already seen the scar. He knew Fennec was right.

You caught the hungry look on Toro’s face as he drank in everything Fennec was saying. His eyes trailed down your face and landed shamelessly on your chest. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he tried to think up a way to confirm your identity and claim the reward for both you and Fennec. This little fucker.

Fennec looked at you, and you took a step back involuntarily. “You’ve gotten sloppy, baby. There’s been chatter for weeks that you resurfaced on Nevarro. If I hadn’t been pinned down here, I’d have come for you myself.”

Her words felt like ice sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You’d figured that news of your sighting would probably get out, but you had hoped against hope that the blue-haired bounty hunter had been taken out before she’d been able to spread the word.

Mando was silent, fists clenched tightly at his sides, visor glued on Fennec. Pulling yourself together, you grabbed his arm and dragged him a safe distance away.

“I was going to tell you. I’m sorry,” you blurted, once you were out of earshot.

“It’s fine,” he replied stiffly, his gaze trained decidedly to your right.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that even though it was just the two of you, his voice retained its icy, detached quality, all the tender familiarity gone.

“No, it’s not. I should have told you sooner. I-I wanted to—believe me—but I didn’t know if I could trust you. You were—you’ve been worried that I might turn you or the kid in, haven’t you? I was worried that you’d do the same to me if you found out. The longer I spent with you, the more I felt like you wouldn’t, but I had to be completely, totally sure. I couldn’t take the risk. You can understand that, right?”

He said nothing.

“Look—I really want to be able to trust you. I want you to be able to trust me. I just didn’t know where to start. It’s not easy for people like us to trust blindly, you know?” You hated that your voice sounded almost pleading.

Still, he said nothing, a blank beskar wall. The comfortable warmth that had developed—slowly, painstakingly—between you two over the past weeks had dissolved in an instant.

“Mando. Talk to me, please.” You reached out for his arm, but he stepped back. He still wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Not now. Not here.”

“But—”

Your heart sank when he turned abruptly and walked back to the others.

You watched as he grabbed Fennec’s arm roughly, hauling her to her feet, and you trailed behind as he lead your party back down to the foot of the cliff. When you reached the bottom, Mando threw Fennec to the ground.

“Uh oh, looks like two of us have to walk,” Fennec taunted, eyeing the lone bike.

Mando jerked his head, motioning you and Toro to follow him.

“Alright, so what is the plan?” Toro asked Mando.

Reluctantly, you refrained from asking him if he could contribute for once instead of letting Mando do literally all the work; instead, you turned to Mando and supplied, “That dewback isn’t far.”

Mando didn’t look at you. To Toro, he said, “I need you to go find it.”

“And leave you here with my bounty and my ride?” Toro asked incredulously. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Mando. I’ll only go if she comes with me, so I have a guarantee that you won’t leave.” Toro gestured toward you.

You and Mando spoke at the same time: “No.”

“Either she comes, or I don’t go.” Toro was obviously pleased with himself for thinking of this plan, a smirk painted on his face. 

You shot him a scathing look before turning to Mando to offer, “I’ll go get it alone.”

You’d love to put some distance between you and Toro, between you and Fennec, and honestly even between you and Mando at the moment.

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Toro. “Less work for me.”

You ignored Toro. “I remember vaguely where it was.” You pointed.

Mando pressed a button on the side of his helmet and scanned the horizon, stopping vaguely where you’d pointed. Finally, he trained his visor on you. He looked from you to Toro to where Fennec was seated and to you again, deliberating. You could tell he didn’t want you to go alone, but he also didn’t want to leave you here with Toro and Fennec. “We’ll go together.”

You nodded, knowing you were in no position to complain. Now that your secret was out, it was evident that both Toro and Fennec would capitalize on your value at the first chance. And, even now, when your dishonesty had been revealed to him, Mando still felt compelled to protect you, his generous heart winning out over whatever malice he felt toward you.

A small part of you resented him for that; it didn’t rub you the right way that he didn’t think you could take care of yourself. A larger part of you knew it was exactly why you liked him so much.

It would be convenient if he were a selfish ass. You could convince yourself you didn’t owe him anything, that you’d done nothing wrong. But no. 

This is why it’s easier to be alone.

You felt both angry and guilty, an awful combination that manifested in the urge to hit something—a deep yearning to break Toro’s nose flashed through your mind when you caught the smug expression on his face as he looked from you to Mando. He was enjoying the palpable tension that had materialized between you a little too much.

“Watch her,” Mando reminded Toro, gesturing to Fennec. “And don’t let her get near the bike. She’s no good to us dead.”

Without a look or a word to you, he turned and started toward the dewback. 

***

You walked in awkward silence, knowing you’d have to be the one to break it, but you delayed the inevitable, admiring the array of stars spread out above you. Mando stomped up and down the swells of sand, staying several paces ahead.

You meandered your way through a storm conflicting emotions: anger at yourself for getting into this situation (rightful), anger at Mando for being infuriatingly honorable (misplaced), guilt that you’d hurt Mando (well-founded), fear about your safety (appropriate), fear that Mando was about to break your heart a little bit (honest), irritation that you were trekking through a damn desert and there was an aggressive amount of sand in your boots (fair but trivial)... and a myriad of others that were too nuanced to unpack.

After deliberating for a long time, you decided to take an offensive position and offer to leave preemptively to save Mando the trouble (and to save yourself from having to hear that from him). You steeled yourself with a deep breath and interrupted the oppressive quietude of the night, jogging for a moment to catch up with him.

“We can go our separate ways when we get back to Mos Eisley. I know I’m too much of a liability to keep around, especially with the kid.”

He turned his head to look at you, the night sky reflected in his visor.

“I have enough credits to get off world some other way.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It killed you a little just how much it wasn’t what you wanted. You were supposed to be totally independent—you’d chosen this life when you joined the Rebel Alliance, knowing that if by some miracle you managed to survive, you’d be hunted for years. The call for your blood wouldn’t—and didn’t—end with the Battle of Endor, especially when Imperial remnants remained strong. And years ago, condemning yourself to this life for a just cause had seemed brave and romantic. Now, here you were, desperate to build a connection with someone else, despite the risk. And you were starting to think that truly being brave would mean accepting that risk.

At what point is it worth giving up ease for happiness, for something more?

You gathered up what nerve you could muster and took a leap.

“It’s not what I want, but I know you feel betrayed. I really am sorry I didn’t tell you—I was planning to, but I was scared. Scared that you’d take advantage of that... scared that you’d take back your offer to stick together. And the longer I waited, the harder it got to come clean.”

“I understand.”

The frostiness of his voice had given way to something a shade softer, but it still hadn’t returned to its former warmth.

You nodded.  

As it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else, the disappointment started to settle in, trickling into the hollow of your chest. He understood, but it evidently didn’t change the fact that the fragile trust that had evolved between you was shattered.

Well, fuck.

You suppressed the wave of emotions that threatened to overtake you, focusing instead on making a new plan for yourself. There would be time to work through the feelings later, alone. Your thoughts wandered to where you might go next, running through a mental list of options. Nothing sounded appealing. 

None of the places that came to mind would be stocked with a shiny, withholding Mandalorian and an ancient green toddler.

You walked for another twenty minutes before Mando spoke again.

“I want to trust you too.”

You stopped. “What?”

He halted too, turning to face you. The dark sky painted his beskar deep shades of liquid indigo, speckled with pinpricks of starlight, that moved as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I wish you... uh... had felt safe enough to tell me that, but I understand why you didn’t.”

You knitted your eyebrows together. “Wait. You’re not mad?”

“I haven’t given you any reason to be open with me. And I guessed you were running from something.”

“Oh.”

“The Empire part caught me off guard—but I knew there was something.”

Of course he’d figured it out...that seemed so obvious now. He’d be able to spot that from a mile away. Plus, he knew you. You spent the last month or so learning his tells and quirks, but you hadn’t stopped to think that he was doing the same with you.

He continued: “But the kid and I are also wanted by the Empire. We’d have the same problem even if you weren’t here.”

“True...” You were struggling to recover from the whiplash.

“What are you wanted for?”

“I was an Intelligence Officer in the Alliance.” It had been years since you’d shared this information with anyone, but the words fell from your lips as naturally as if you said them every day, like you’d been ready to tell him all along and your mouth had finally caught up with your heart.

“Yeah, that makes more sense,” he said. “Explains a lot of your skills.”

You scoffed. “Fair.”

Mando cleared his throat and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “But... it’s...uh, nice to not always be alone.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a shrug, a little embarrassed.

Relief washed over you.

You smiled. “For me too.”

“Good,” he agreed, nodding decisively.

“Shit, you really let me think you were furious,” you laughed, feeling infinitely lighter but still trying to wrap your mind around this abrupt turn.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I was... trying to figure some things out.”

You shook your head in exasperation and started walking again, but you froze when he said your real name. You’d known your name would sound good in his voice—everything did—but the way it rumbled and rasped through the modulator was borderline sinful, agonizingly personal.

File that away for later.

You looked back at him, and he cocked his head: “So you’ll stay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you agreed, a broad grin on your face.

You both started walking again, and suddenly, trudging through the sandy desert in the middle of the night didn’t seem so bad. The dewback came back into view as you crested another sand dune.

Mando looked over at you. “Din,” he offered. “My name is Din.”

You glanced up at him, surprised. “Din,” you repeated back to him, feeling it out.

Despite the contradictory definition of the word, it suited him. He was the opposite of a cacophony, a man of few words—though to be fair, he did often cause a commotion. But as a name... Din was short, to the point. It evoked a lot of feeling for just three letters, and that felt right.

“I know your real name now. I thought it was only fair that you know mine too, but only use it when it’s just me and you and the kid,” he explained.

Your throat was unexpectedly tight.

You reached over to squeeze his arm at the elbow, where there was a gap in the beskar. He didn’t pull away.

“Thanks,” you answered, looking up into his visor. 

You hoped he understood that you were thanking him for more than just his name—for his understanding, for his trust, for his protection, for his vulnerability. You couldn’t say that all out loud at the moment, but you hoped he knew.

He dipped his helmet in acknowledgement, and you dropped your hand. 

When you finally reached the dewback, Din approached slowly, speaking to it in a calm, lilting voice. It warmed to him slowly, and he grabbed the reins.

He hauled himself up onto its back and then extended a hand down to you. You took it, and he pulled you up easily to sit behind him. You wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Is this okay?” You weren’t really sure why you asked this time. Things had shifted between the two of you, so you were compelled to check that the casual contact was still welcome.

He cleared his throat: “Yeah, fine,” he confirmed.

It had been a long time since you’d been physically affectionate with anyone, besides the occasional casual, short-lived tryst. It was nice to wrap your arms around someone familiar and comfortable, someone who knew you.

The dewback started forward. Din directed it back toward the cliffs with the reins in his fist. It wasn’t a huge distance, but the dewback was a slow means of transportation.

You had little idea what all this meant for your daily reality with Din. You had both shared that you wanted companionship, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was interested in anything more than that. However, for you at least, this was undeniably no longer a superficial interest that you harbored; you had real affection for him. And it seemed like he maybe was starting to feel same way about you? Or maybe he was just getting comfortable with having companionship? The man was starved for human interaction, so it was hard to know if he was warming up to you or warming up to companionship in general.

One step at a time.

Time slipped by as the dewback lumbered on. You rested your cheek against the scratchy fabric of his cape and closed your eyes. The rhythmic movement, the darkness, and comfort of the position lulled you into a light sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when Din woke you, squeezing your now limp arm that was resting on his thigh above his beskar plate.

“Alive back there?” he asked in a low voice.

Leaned against him, still groggy with sleep, you felt the question rumble through his chest.

You sat up straight, pulling your arms back to your sides. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. We’re close.”

The two suns had risen, bathing the landscape in the golden glow of early morning. You looked around and saw that you were a short distance from where you’d left Toro and Fennec. You couldn’t see them yet, but you figured they were hidden behind one of the many large boulders strewn across the landscape.

As you drew nearer, though, you could tell something was wrong. Only one figure came into view—and it was crumpled on the ground. Din registered this as well: his shoulders stiffened, and he pulled the reins tight to halt the dewback’s slow advance.

It was Fennec’s body on the ground. Toro was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“You were right about him,” said Din. “Stay here.”

Din dismounted and approached Fennec’s body. She looked dead, but he crouched to check. He tried to find a pulse, and after a moment, he stood back up and shook his head.

As Din walked back toward you, the realization dawned on you both at the same time.

“He didn’t—”

“The kid—”

“She must have—”

“We have to—”

Din hurried back onto the dewback and directed it toward Mos Eisley, doing his best to make the lumbering creature pick up its pace. It didn’t help much.

The ride back was interminable. You definitely didn’t fall asleep this time, adrenaline keeping you on edge as the hours passed. Both you and Din were incredibly tense, speaking very little, thinking only of the child.

***

Night had fallen again by the time you reached Mos Eisley. The speeder bike that Toro had been riding was parked outside Peli’s. Fury and fear spidered through your veins at the thought of him with the kid.

Din jumped off the side of the dewback and looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched. You maneuvered your leg over the side and slid down a bit until his hands gripped your hips, and he lowered you until your feet hit the sand. You could have easily jumped down on your own. He knew that. You knew that. You’d let him help you anyways.

You paused outside the bay to draw your blasters.

“Here,” Din offered you the flash charge.

You slipped it into your jacket sleeve, where it stayed tight against your wrist. Together, you crept through the door and down the stairway that opened up to where the Razor Crest was parked. It was eerily quiet.

You scanned the space, jumping slightly when one of Peli’s pit droids scurried past.

“Took you guys long enough.”

Toro walked slowly down the open ramp of the Crest, the barrel of the blaster in his hand pressed to Peli’s back. The child was held in his other arm.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh?” he sneered.

The urge to hit him flared up so acutely that you clenched your fists. You hissed at him: “Don’t you da—”

“Drop your blasters and raise ‘em,” he ordered, cutting you off.

You and Din exchanged a look before throwing your blasters to the ground. In a subtle movement, you shifted the charge from your sleeve to your fist as you placed your hands behind your head.

“Cuff ‘em,” commanded Toro, nudging Peli forward and throwing two sets of cuffs to the ground.

She moved toward Din.

“No, start with her,” Toro drawled, jutting his chin toward you. “To think I almost cut Mando out of this deal,” he laughed. “I would have gotten you and Fennec, but this is so much better. I get to collect the bounty on you and this target here that Mando helped escape,” he pointed his gun at the baby and all your muscles tensed in protective rage, “...and I get to turn in the legendary Mandalorian himself—a Guild traitor.”

Peli walked behind you. You grasped the charge in your fist so that she would be able to see the top of it. You heard her quiet, sharp intake of breath.

“Fennec was right,” Toro continued smugly. “Bringing you three in won’t just make me a member of the Guild—it’ll make me legendary. Three high-value targets on my first try. Wow, I should really thank you guys.”

Peli was fumbling with the cuffs behind you, taking longer than necessary on purpose.

You hoped she was ready to duck because you’d heard enough of Toro’s self-congratulatory monologue. You released the charge.

In the split second of blinding light, you, Din, and Peli sprinted in opposite directions, taking cover. Toro groaned and attempted to cover his eyes, shooting blindly at the empty space where you had been standing.

Din took Toro out in one shot.

You were closest to where he fell, so you charged forward with your blaster trained on his body. The baby wiggled out of Toro’s arms and ran toward you. His big eyes were watery and his arms stretched toward you, his fingers making little grabby motions. He chittered nervously as you scooped him up with your free arm, and he buried his head in your shoulder.

You kicked Toro’s blaster away from his body as Din approached to make sure he was dead. After he checked his pulse, Din tugged the pouch of credits from Toro’s belt and tossed it to Peli. “Here,” he said.

With a gasp, she caught it and emptied the pouch in her hands. Credits tumbled out, a few falling to the ground.

“That cover us?” Din asked.

Peli looked shocked, scrambling to pick them all up. “Yeah... uh, yes. This is gonna cover you.” It was clearly far more than she was expecting.

You passed the child over to Din, and he looked down at the baby, tilting his helmet in...what? Affection? Relief? This was a head tilt you hadn’t defined yet.

Peli approached him and looked down at the child. “You take care of him, you hear?”

Din nodded.

“Thank you for watching him,” you said to Peli, genuinely grateful that she had turned out to be trustworthy.

“Besides getting held at gunpoint... I guess it wasn’t too bad,” she replied, smiling down at the baby. She’d clearly grown fond of him, and you couldn’t blame her. After a moment, Peli mumbled a goodbye and walked away, eagerly counting the credits in her hands, her pit droids skittering after her.

You stood there, finger caught between three tiny green ones, as the kid babbled and cooed up at you. When you looked up, Din’s helmet was trained on your face.

He tipped his head toward the open ramp of the Crest in a wordless invitation.

You smiled at him, a comforting warmth settling in your chest, and he followed you into the hull.

***

Chapter 7

#tempered glass #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #my writing #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #reader insert #mandalorian reader insert #din djarin reader insert

[sqoiler]

On the Thursday of the last week of kindergarten, the DVD that Miss Martinez was going to play turns out to be scratched beyond recognition, and so she gets out construction paper, scissors, markers, and glitter glue. 

“Father’s Day isn’t for a few more weeks,” she says. “But why don’t we make some cards, just like we did for Mother’s Day, okay?” 

The kids all get to work, reaching for the pile of brightly-colored paper. Stephanie Brown, who will be turning six in August, is the last one to get up. She shifts through the leftover colors--black, a pukey shade of green, blue, white. She picks up the black one and takes it back to her desk. She does not want to make a stupid card for her stupid dad. The other kids at her table are enthusiastically chattering about their dads’ favorite colors and jobs and drawing crayon drawings onto the paper. The girl next to her is cutting a snowflake out with safety scissors. 

Steph picks up a white crayon and stares at her blank card. Across the room, Dexter raises his hand. 

“What if we don’t have a dad?” he asks. Steph remembers from Mother’s Day that Dexter has two moms. 

“Make a card for someone else,” Miss Martinez suggests. “Your grandfather, maybe. Or a neighbor, or a hero.”

A hero?

Steph looks at the black card before her, and her white crayon. She smiles.

And she makes a Father’s Day card for Batman.

-----

On the Monday of the last week of first grade, Mrs. Arnold, the art teacher, sits down her class and passes out white paper. 

“Father’s Day cards,” she explains. Stephanie Brown, seven in August, considers making her own father a card. She didn’t get him anything last year but he didn’t seem to notice, and she’s not really that mad at him this year. But he didn’t seem to notice, and when Steph thinks about it, she thinks Robin probably doesn’t make Batman a card. Steph could make another card for her own dad at home, and make one for Batman at school. 

Mind made up, she reaches for black markers and gets to work. 

-----

On the Tuesday of the last week of second grade, Stephanie Brown, almost eight years old, sits down in art class and carefully draws a black blob with pointy ears, and a red and green and yellow stick figure, next to it, and she tries to remember what Nightwing looks like, and when she can’t remember she just draws Robin again but bigger.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, she writes in red marker, and she closes the card.

------

On the Wednesday of the last week of third grade, Mrs. Arnold passes out watercolors in art class with pieces of thick paper, and tells them to make presents for their dads. Stephanie Brown, nearly nine, hasn’t seen her dad in almost four months, and she uses up almost all the black water colors at her table painting a picture of Batman. 

------

On the last week of fourth grade, nobody sits down their class to have them make Father’s Day cards. 

On the Thursday before Father’s Day, Crystal passes Stephanie Brown, age almost-ten, a card bought from the store and tells her that they’ll mail it to Blackgate the next morning. Happy Father’s Day, the card says. You’re the best dad ever! the card says. 

Steph stares at it for a long time.

Then she tears out a piece of notebook paper and folds it in half, taking the rainbow gel pens she got in December and picking up the pink one. She squints at it and sees that it’s nearly run out, so she picks up the purple one instead. 

When she’s done drawing Batman and Batgirl and Robin and Nightwing, she decides she likes purple, and she folds the notebook paper inside the card her mother gave her, and she doesn’t mail anything to Blackgate the next day.

-----

On the last day of fifth grade, Mr. Robinson turns on The Great Mouse Detective and sets out a stack of colored paper and scissors. He tells the class they can do whatever they want during the movie and even sets up chips and cookies, then he sits in the back of the classroom and maybe falls asleep. Stephanie Brown, ten-going-on-eleven, wants something to do with her hands, so she takes a black piece of paper and cuts out a batsymbol. She learned how to draw them by sticking her head out her window at night and looking at the sky, and she’s proud of her newfound skill. When she’s done cutting it out, she’s not really sure what to do besides maybe tape it to her shirt, but her dad’s been out for a week now and she thinks he’d be mad if he saw that. 

Instead, she folds it in half and writes HAPPY FATHERS DAY across the middle using white-out. Skye, the girl who sits next to her, leans over and asks what she’s doing, and Steph pauses. She’s...she’s not really sure why she keeps making these. To prove a point, maybe. She’s not really sure what point, though.

“Do you think Batman ever gets cards?” she asks in a whisper. 

“Yes,” Skye says. “Probably every day.”

“Oh,” Steph says. “Well, I probably won’t send it then.”

“Okay,” Skye says, and then she downs half of her dixie cup of orange juice and turns back to the movie. Steph puts purple glitter glue on her batsymbol. 

------

On the first week of April, Stephanie Brown, age seventeen, pulls a plastic bin out from under her desk. There’s a cardboard box beside her, and two other cardboard boxes on her empty mattress, full and taped shut. There’s a full duffel bag of clothes next to her, and her posters from her walls have been taken down and rolled up. All she has to do is finish going through her desk, and then she’s done. The rest of her things will be sold or something, she’s not sure. 

She pries off the lid of the bin before her and takes out old school binders and ragged notebooks, paper folders falling apart and ancient art projects. She lifts out a collage she probably made in seventh grade and tries to decipher the meaning behind it. There is a cutout of red heels from Kohls on top of a blue betta fish. 

Steph decides it will go in the trash pile and sets it aside, lifting out a yellow plastic folder. She opens it, curious, and lifts out a black paper batsymbol. She gasps when she opens it.

Her Father’s Day cards! 

Of course, she had never sent them, so she has all--she counts quickly--six of them. She looks them over, laughing at her kindergarten misspellings and looking at the evolution of her drawing ability fondly. This is--she totally forgot about this. Steph closes the folder reverently and puts it on top of her duffel bag. There’s no way she can get rid of this--especially with the purple cape still in the hidden part of her closet. Especially not with where she’s packing up to move to.

----

On the third Sunday in June, Stephanie Brown, age eighteen-in-August, takes up her yellow plastic folder from where she hid it under her new mattress, and she leaves her room, tucking it under her arm. She gets like four steps down the hall before another door opens, and already an accusing voice says, “What’s that?” 

Steph whirls around. 

“None of your business,” she says. Tim makes a face at her and she makes the same one back, because she is very mature. To prove her maturity, she slides down the banister on her way to the kitchen. 

Dick and Cass are in there, doing the dishes. Steph watches them for a second and then says, “Why do you have dishes at this hour?” ‘This hour’, upon checking, turns out to be almost noon, but nobody wakes up early in this house. 

“Breakfast for Alfred,” Cass says. 

“You can do that?” Steph asks, thinking that Alfred would get offended if someone tried to cook for him. 

“You can today,” Dick says, shrugging, and Steph frowns, realizes that they ganged together to make breakfast on Father’s Day for Alfred and didn’t invite her. 

It was probably an accident, she reasons, but then she remembers Tim and turns to face him. 

“Why didn’t you make breakfast for Alfred?”

“I was sleeping,” he says. 

“He’s impossible to wake up so we called it a lost cause,” Dick says. “We have extra pancakes, though, help yourself.”

Steph is still a little affronted, but she knows that she’s the newest person in the house and she’s only staying here until her mom’s done with rehab and whatever, so they probably didn’t think she’d want to be included, even though Alfred is everyone’s grandpa, even Babs’s. She goes to pick up a pair of pancakes and bites into one, deciding syrup can wait, and she leaves before they can rope her into conversation. Besides, she’s a little scared they’ll start referring to whatever plans they have with Bruce, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react. 

She heads to Bruce’s study and pushes open the door, glad to find him in there. She thinks if she had to search for him she’d probably lose her nerve and chicken out. Bruce glances up for like half a second and then looks back at the computer, and she takes a deep breath and steps inside fully. 

Now or never, she thinks, and so she marches right up to him and slams the yellow folder on the desk. 

“What’s this?” Bruce says, and Steph isn’t really sure how to explain, so she says, “It’s, uh, I found it when I was packing my stuff, and it’s...it’s from a while ago, but I thought you might, um…”

She trails off as he picks up the folder and opens it, raising an eyebrow at the contents from inside. She kinda wants to look at his face, but also totally doesn’t want to do that, so instead she looks at the desk, and opens her dumb mouth back up. “They always used to have us do Father’s Day cards at school or whatever and I never wanted to make one for Arthur so I made those instead ‘cause...well I don’t really remember why but whatever I thought you might want to see them.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce says, and she shuts up and bites her lip, looking up at him. “You...made these?”

“Yeah,” she says. He looks back down at the cards in his hands, all spread out--even the one that was intended for Arthur that Steph never sent. He touches the one from kindergarten. “Um. You can keep them.”

Bruce stands up. Steph isn’t really sure at all what he’s thinking, but he steps away from his chair and wraps his arms around her, holds her tight. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Happy Father’s Day,” she says, and when he squeezes her she closes her eyes, exhales, and squeezes him back. 

(based on this post x) (ao3 here x)

#(posts fathers day fic in december) #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #brotp: slap #my writing #long post

[serenityseventeen]

♪ The Last Day of Summer With You

Jun/Wen Junhui/Moon Junhui : Painting...?

“Are you sure about this?” You asked skeptically while staring at your boyfriend who was preoccupied with setting up the stand for the blank canvas.

Jun nodded and placed the canvas on the stand. He clapped his hands together after he was done and turned halfway to you who was on his right and watched him set up the whole thing. He innocently smiled but you shook your head.

“I don't think that painting together on one beautifully blank canvas is a very good idea,” You said, crossing your arms with conviction. “If my memory is correct, the last time we tried an artistic project, it ended up with us filling out bedroom walls with sketches of cats.”

Jun giggled at that remark because he could recall that moment. Everything about that warm spring day was chaotic and it all started when Jun decided to take Mingyu's suggestion of drawing with a significant other as a romantic activity.

That day was surely romantic to Jun because it was a memory he could never forget. You laughed so much that day despite continuously uttering about how foolishly childish you and he were, drawing cats on the walls and sketching stickmen in your notebooks while acting like troublesome kids. He could tell that that day was memorable for you too. If he could get you to smile like that, he would look everywhere for a fun activity to do.

Thus, that was why Jun was always looking for new things to try with you and he would take in many of his member's suggestions. Jun enjoyed having fun, being romantic, and being with you, so everything that his friends deemed ‘romantic’ he would try them out for himself.

Just like how that chaotically beautiful drawing day started, this one also started with a member's suggestion. This time, he took in the artiste, Minghao's recommendation of painting, and bought some art supplies for it.

Since today was a day to finish the hot, summer weather, Jun had decided that you two should attempt to keep the memory of a summertime sunset written on a canvas.

Jun let out a long breath and took your hand, setting you down in front of the canvas. Jun had already prepared a palette and brushes that were kept in a small cup, their fluffy ends sticking up.

“Come on, doing things like this once in a while is fun!” Jun said, handing you a palette. “I'll take the left half of the canvas, you can have the right side. Let's see what we can come up with to describe summer, okay?”

You chuckled, knowing that the painting was going to end up adequately attractive even if it looked peculiar. You glanced at Jun while holding the palette. He was skipping through the bottles of paint to get a brush while holding a plastic palette in one of his hands. You helplessly grinned as you gazed at Jun.

The assorted and iridescent paint bottles that were lined up on the floor were neatly ultimately scattered with a gentle brush of Jun's foot as he made his way back to the stool next to you. He came back with not one brush, but the whole mug that held the brushes.

“Let's get started, shall we?” Jun asked, smiling as he set down the paintbrushes.

You watched as he squeezed paint onto his palettes and gently dabbed his chosen brush into the paint. He painted a slanted line down the middle of the canvas, causing you to laugh at how imperfect but cute it looked.

“I guess I have more space at the bottom of the canvas than you do,” You commented, bringing some orange paint onto your palette.

Jun laughed softly. “I won't even try to fix this crooked line.”

There was complete silence in the house as you and Jun started focusing on the painting. The activity was messier than both of you thought it'd be. Jun had forgotten to buy painting aprons to avoid getting paint on your clothes too, but thankfully, the two of you changed into clothes that weren't special.

It was strange to see him so focused on the painting.

Jun found it strange that you were working so hard on your side of the painting. Sometimes, he would glance at his side to catch the beauty of a concentrated you.

When you saw him looking at the corner of your eye, you would turn to him and you both would stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds before you either smiled, winked, scrunched your nose, or asked, “What?”

Jun couldn't catch when you would gaze at him though, even if your eyes were shooting out hearts, he would be too distracted by his painting that he wouldn't even notice. You found it rather cute, and, you got to gaze at his dangerously attractive side profile.

“Can you pass me the blue paint?” You asked.

Jun looked around his stool to realize that he had been hoarding all of the paints around and under his stool. His hands were a rainbow mess and his painting, well, you could just tell that he was trying hard because it looked pretty with bright and dark colors.

“Oh, sorry,” Jun replied. He got off his chair a little to reach for the blue bottle of paint, his messy hands staining the side of the bottle.

You didn't mind that the bottle was tainted because your hands too, were decorated with a variety of smudged colors. You didn't even know how some paint got on the smooth, tiled floor, though it wasn't unexpected.

As Jun took the bottle and handed it to you, his clumsiness took the best of him and he accidentally, while retreating his hand, swept the back of his painted hand against your side of the canvas. He was moving a beat too fast which caused the sudden collision.

You both froze because you saw the entire thing happen and Jun quickly realized what he had done. The canvas was a bit smudged with brown, destroying the aesthetic of the painting.

Jun looked at you, expecting death glares, but was met with a warm smile. You were laughing, amused by your boyfriend's small mistake. It must have been ridiculous to see you laughing like that because Jun couldn't hold his laughter either. Whenever you laughed, he would habitually mimick your actions even if he didn't know what was so funny.

“Why are you laughing? Aren't you upset?” Jun asked, confused by your rather bright and friendly expression. Your laughter was contagious and Jun was still frozen in place.

“Of course not!” You finally replied. You placed your brush and palette down on the floor, grinning widely out of unexplainable ecstasy. “Mistakes like that are what makes paintings like these so special!”

You cupped his face with your paint-covered hands, leaving polychromatic marks on his cheeks, and leaned in to press a long, sweet kiss on his lips. You didn't know why, but it felt like you were waiting for something like this to happen.

Jun was a bit taken aback by the sudden kiss but he quickly absorbed himself into his. His hand would have completely pushed the painting and stand down but he somehow controlled that, leaving a messy print of his hand on your side of the art piece.

His paint-filled hands left marks on your clothes as they climbed up your waist to hold you tightly.

“You're such a fool,” You commented, your thumb caressing his cheeks that were now smeared with paint from your hands. “Why do you always take in your member's ideas?”

Jun moved back a little to look into your beautiful eyes that were now reflecting the sunshine from the large living room window. “I think I'm too boring. I want you to have fun with me.”

“Thank you,” You replied. “I'll try to be a better lover and give you surprise activities that are fun like this too. It's just that you're so foolish; you don't need to ask your members for fun activities to do. I like everything you do, even if you're just playing piano, singing, practicing a funny skit, or playing games on the computer. It's all fun to me.”

“It's okay,” Jun said, knocking on the side of your head playfully. “I want us to do a variety of things together because it's fun and memorable. I don't care whether or not we do these things as long as we do something, even if it's just staying at home. I wouldn't do things like this if I didn't have you.”

You both let go of each other with a smile. You stared at Jun's hand engraved on your painting. Jun noticed it too and was about to apologize but before he could, you quickly submerged your palm in your colorful painting palette.

You smile lovingly at him before pressing your hand against his side of the painting.

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

© serenityseventeen

a/n: this one was almost 1.5k words and yes, I know, the picture has barely any relevance to the story overall. I tried very hard to find a newer photo of him with paint but had no luck; I just remember them playing with paint during Pretty U(?) or predebut. Anyway, I love Silent Boarding Gate with my whole heart so I used that photo instead. + What does summer look like to you?

#the last day of summer with you #seventeen kpop #seventeen #svt kpop #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #준 #문준휘 #moon junhui #seventeen jun #junhui seventeen #seventeen junhui #wen junhui #svt junhui #junhui svt #wen junhui imagines #junhui imagines #jun imagines #svt jun #jun svt #jun seventeen #jun fluff #wen junhui scenarios #wen junhui fluff #junhui scenarios #junhui fluff #seventeen scenarios

[passivenovember]

You Look Stupid When You’re Sad.

Steve Harrington smelled of sour patch kids and unbaked cookie dough.

Billy didn't think it was a bad smell, exactly, just weird; intense, heady, and stuck to the walls of his brain. Doughy when the sunlight couldn't dry the track marks of Steve's sweat before nap time, heady when it got into Billy's system and stuck with him like the thrum of his heartbeat.

Wherever Billy went Steve Harrington was there. Like a shadow. A noisy, scrawny, wire-frame glasses wearing shadow that elbowed its way into the chair across from Billy's during lunch and followed him around at recess; three feet behind and always pretending to spot interesting shapes in the clouds when he thought Billy wasn't looking, but.

Billy was always looking.

It was so weird.

Steve was so weird. The way he made bright, happy noises when he was paired with Billy for station time, how he always drug his mat over from the other side of the room to sleep next to Billy when it was time to zonk out after second recess despite knowing that the spot was saved for Barbara, Billy's actual best friend.

She got nightmares and Billy liked to be there to hold her hand while she dreamed but every afternoon, without fail, Steve came wondering over with his lip stuck out in a question.

It was confusing.

Steve was so confusing. The way he hugged his mat to his chest, chin quivering with a little, "Okay. Sorry, Bills." Every time Billy slapped his hand on the carpet and growled that the spot was taken. Occupation, not reserved for pasty-kneed dorks with wire frame glasses, and.

Billy didn't want to make the kid cry, or anything, but he always managed to do just that. Paint himself as a bad guy.

Billy rubbed his forehead as Barb settled in on his left hand side one afternoon after such an altercation, smiling so big her lips disappeared behind the plastic frames of her glasses.

"What's wrong, Stevie?" She asked, and.

Billy tried not to be jealous.

Steve hiccupped, cheeks growing redder by the second. "I wanna nap with you guys but Billy won't let me."

"Hey, that's not--"

"You can sleep with us if you want to. Billy has a really big blanket, maybe he can share with both of us." Barbara looked at him expectantly, like. "Right Billy?"

And it was dumb.

It was so dumb, that they were staring at him with hopeful eyes and Steve's chin was still quivering and Billy didn't want to be the bad guy; he wasn't Mesogog and he didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings, but.

Steve Harrington got under his skin. With his soft hair and big brown eyes, always following Billy around and begging for the space to be made. Billy got clumsy and nervous when Bambi was nearby, and.

The idea of sharing space. Sleeping next to Steve with his chirpy little noises and warm soft hands, it.

Made Billy feel like he was breaking out in itchy red bumps.

No.

He would stick to his guns; the blanket just wasn't big enough for three people. But then, Billy's grumpy brain supplied, Steve could steal Barbara and keep her as his own best friend if Billy didn't let him stay, so. It was time to cut his losses.

"God, you look stupid when you're sad." Billy muttered.

Steve started crying again.

Billy really wished he'd stop that.

"I'm sorry, Billy. I know I'm dumb but I don't mean to be." Steve whimpered. He tucked his mat under his arm and made to get up.

And leave.

As if Billy would let Steve make him look bad in front of everyone, especially Barbara.

"Lay down, dork." Billy grumbled, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders and peeling it back for Steve reluctantly.

Harrington's smile was so bright it could've melted crayons when he settled in close, chirping happily as Billy pulled the blanket around them and tucked in on impulse. The room went dark, Mr. Talamantez reminding them to count butterflies if sleep wouldn't come.

It didn't.

Steve smelled too much like cream and sugar for Billy to get any rest at all.

--

"Whatcha making, Billy?" Steve asked, pink tongue poking out in concentration as he peered over Billy's arm at his art project.

A stack of pink and red construction paper was Billy's favorite thing in the world because it meant endless possibilities. Pink was soft and sweet, red was passionate and cool. Like hot wheels and firetrucks and hearts full of warm oven mitts, so.

He pulled the leaflets from his backpack during circle time and got busy, carefully folding the delicate paper hamburger style and then tracing swirly, dramatic lines for each heart on the page.

Valentines was Billy's most favorite day of the year.

Even more than Christmas, even more than his birthday, and only a little bit more than Halloween because on Valentines? The whole universe was covered in flowers and little tin wrapped chocolates and love hearts were the best thing for a kid to make with scissors.

Billy ignored Steve's tongue, turning his shoulders to the room. "I'm making love hearts."

"For who?"

"None of your beeswax."

"Okay," Steve said happily, grabbing a handful of markers and re-situating himself much closer than Billy would've liked. Steve's Nike's tapped the itsy-bitsy-spider on the rug as he declared, "I'm drawing batman on a surfboard!"

And Billy tossed aside his first ruined Valentine. "Oh cool, I don't remember asking."

"That's okay," Steve giggled. "Sometimes I get motor mouth. My Daddy says it's 'cause I'm a fruit."

"My daddy called me that sometimes before he got sick." Billy turned to glare at him. "That's not a good thing."

"It is to me!" Steve giggled again. He was always doing that. "I like Kiwis. My mommy packed some for lunch and I had them for breakfast. They're yummy in geek yogurt. They make me smile because they have beards!"

Steve cackled like kiwi's having beards was the funniest thing on earth and Billy wondered what there was to be so happy about.

He tried not to smile at Steve's dumb face. "I think you mean Greek yogurt."

"Yeah, probably. If I'm like a kiwi, that's alright, I think." Steve's tongue poked out again. "Surfboards make me think of you." He declared, and.

Steve smelled like toasted chocolate on s'mores, his hands somehow kicking up more of his sugary sweet odor each time he reached for a new piece of paper. Billy didn't know how he was supposed to get anything done when his circle buddy smelled like a chocolate birthday cake.

It was kinda gross.

Billy pulled out a sliver marker and traced Stinky Butt Max on one of the smaller Valentines, remembering to fold down the corners so the sensitive skin on her palms wouldn't get hurt when she inevitably started smacking him it.

The pink Valentine looked more like a chewed up Starburst gummy this way, but. Max wouldn't know the difference.

Steve peered over his shoulder again, cooing softly. Like a baby dove. "That ones pretty, Bills! Is Max your Valentine?"

"Ew," Billy wrinkled his nose like he sometimes did when Max needed a diaper change. "She's my baby sister, don't be an Ick Monster."

"What's an Ick Monster?"

"Somebody who makes weird jokes and says weird things, so." Billy shrugged, scrawling his mothers name on a second love heart. He poked Steve's tummy with his marker. "That's you, I think."

Steve giggled before slapping Billy's hand away, and. Watching him work.

After a while Steve inched closer. "So you don't have a Valentine?" He wondered, and.

Billy didn't understand the question. "Mr. Talamantez said we're all each other's Valentines so nobody feels sad."

"Yeah, but. Everybody has someone they want to smooch on Valentines." Steve started playing with his hair, fingers twisting waves in a sea of brown, like they sometimes did when he was nervous. "Someone they like best-best. Better than all the other kids."

Now it was Billy's turn to giggle. "That's icky."

"Smooching?" Steve's eyes sparkled. "It's fun sometimes."

"Like you've ever kissed anyone."

Steve looked offended. "Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too," Steve pouted, crossing his arms.

Billy began work on a third Valentine. "Who did you kiss?"

"Nancy Wheeler."

Billy snorted, not sure if he wanted to imagine Steve kissing Nancy Wheeler, or. Kissing at all.

Steve's chin started quivering. "You don't believe me?"

"No." Billy said lightly, capping the marker with a sniff.

Kissing was not fun. It was wet and violent and looked like it maybe hurt a little bit, the way he'd seen his mom and Susan kiss when he got up to go potty at night. Billy regarded Steve through easy, narrowed eyes; Steve wasn't the kind of boy who kissed like that.

"How come you're so weird?" Billy wondered.

"I like being weird." Steve said, reaching for a green marker to color in his surfboard. Steve nodded at the small pile of Valentine's strewn on the carpet between them. "You should put the love hearts on foam when you're done."

"I was already gonna do that, genius."

Billy wasn't already going to do that, but he'd eat a centipede before he let Harrington know he came up with a good idea.

"They could be superhero colors!" Steve hollered suddenly. He was so loud all the time. "That way your mommy and sissy can know that you love them because they're cool. Like Aqua-man."

Billy frowned, watching Steve fold his Batman drawing over and over again until it all but disappeared from sight. He leaned back against the wall with an eye roll, shocked out how much Harrington lacked any concept of taste, or.

Shame.

"Aqua-man isn't cool," Billy said. Because Aqua-man wasn't, he was like. The lamest of them all. "His only power is making the bad guys drown, at least the other heroes can punch really hard."

"Punching isn't always the best, though." Steve tucked Batman into the front pocket of his shirt, leaning into Billy's space. "Sometimes punching just makes the bad guys stronger. Like Wilson Fisk."

Billy frowned. "Punching works for Spiderman."

Steve considered this fact, pink tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth again. He thought really hard for a long time, as if Steve didn't have Spiderman socks on everyday at recess when he removed his Nike's to fill them with rocks.

Such a weird guy.

Finally, Steve smiled. "I like water, though. Your eyes are like water. From the fountain in the hallway, and like the lake at camp." Steve pushed his way into Billy's space, frowning with his head cocked to the side like there was more thinking to cross of the list. "You're very pretty, Billy. Like a cloud."

And.

Billy didn't have the words to articulate the way Steve's smell went a little crazy after that, like a bag of powdered sugar had caught fire from a signal light once he realized what he'd said. Billy waited for Steve to take it back, because.

Boys calling other boys pretty wasn't allowed in Mr. Talamantez' classroom, or. Anywhere else.

Steve didn't take it back.

"You wouldn't like Aqua-Man's water, 'cause you'd drown." Billy said, getting back to work on his Valentines if only for a distraction from the way Steve was watching him. "He doesn't control his power very well and sometimes the mean guys get hurt real bad."

Steve kept right on talking. "I wouldn't be a mean guy though," He reasoned, sliding impossibly closer on the alphabet rug. "I'd help him fight crimes. Like Captain Underpants!"

And.

Billy had nothing to say to that, sucked in and drowning by the way Steve's eyes were glittering.

"You're a weird guy, you know?" Billy breathed.

Steve's giggle went right to Billy's tummy, teaching it to do backflips, somehow.

"That's okay." Steve said, reaching back for a fresh piece of paper. "You'll remember me better and maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine."

Steve's hair fell across his eyes, head bopping along to whatever song he was singing to himself today. His lips glittered like a frosted donut. Like he'd been eating a strawberry ice cream cone instead of confusing all the boys around him.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

Huh.

Billy started work on a new love heart and pretended not to notice.

--

On Tuesday morning Billy woke to the smell of pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice.

Maxine was already up.

Her long red hair was piled on top of her head in two Princess Leia buns. Susan had put in little heart clips and the pink dress Billy's mommy had made special was already covered in mashed banana and something that looked like magic marker.

She was all ready for Valentines day.

Billy didn't understand why they bothered trying to make her look dainty when Max was more interested in destroying Billy's favorite toys and starting fires.

She sat on the floor of the room they shared together, sucking her thumb and playing with Billy's favorite race car. Her wet, chubby fingers made the blue Camaro shine brightly with spit and Billy felt like his face was burning up.

"Hey," He said, rubbing at his eyes. "Hey, you're getting spit all over my--"

"Race car!"

Max held it out to him triumphantly. Billy frowned, moving to grab it from her chubby little fist. "I know that's my race--"

"It's a blue car," Max said thoughtfully. She looked at him, like, "Blue cars are my favorite."

"It's my favorite too--"

"Can we share?" Max wondered, putting the little wheels on Billy's knee and letting the car zoom back and forth. He imagined that Evel Knievel was in the drivers seat wondering why his car wasn't first in the race.

She looked happy, like always, to be playing with Billy's toys.

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess we can share. It's Valentine's Day."

Max seemed to enjoy that. "I like today!"

"You do?"

"Yup," She said happily, little chubby fingers tangling in Billy's hair because he hadn't brushed it yet. "Candy and sour gummy worms and kisses from cute boys!"

Billy glared. "You're kissing cute boys?"

"Uh-huh!" Max hollered. "Lucas gave me a dandelion."

Billy thought long and hard.

About Valentines Day and all the things that came with it. The pink shirt that hung pressed in his closet, fresh cupcakes with plastic rings, a bag of Scooby-doo Valentines Susan had picked up at the market for all his classmates, homemade love hearts at the bottom of his backpack. Three with red foam, one with a delicate lace doily, and.

Kisses.

Max was getting flowers and kisses from a boy.

From someone special.

Billy took the race car from Max's hand and drove it around, thinking about boys with brown eyes and soft hands.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

"Wanna eat some breakfast, Max?"

"I had 'nanas." She said with a smirk.

Billy hummed, standing to get dressed. "Mama probably made chocolate chip pancakes, you don't wanna eat something special?"

Max's little red eyebrows pinched together. "I can have yours?"

And.

Billy didn't know what was so necessary to her about taking everything that was his. Playing with his toys, sleeping in his pj's, eating his breakfast, it was like Max didn't know how take something and make it her own.

Billy pulled the pink shirt over his head, feeling every bit like a turtle when Max did the same with the collar of her dress.

"You can have my pancakes." Billy concluded, puffing out his chest. "If you'll be my Valentine."

"You don't have a boy to kiss?"

"I might," Billy picked the race car off the ground with a smile. "This is practice for when I see him at school. So, will you be my Valentine?"

She thought about it.

Long and hard, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, before nodding with her entire body. "I think he will."

Billy sighed. "Really?"

"If you give him sour gummy worms and smooch his forehead he will," Max said.

And.

Maybe things would turn out okay. Billy nodded, grabbing the race car and driving it across Max's forehead, careful that the little plastic wheels didn't get stuck in her hair.

--

From the stucco ceiling of the classroom beautiful strands of silver and gold hearts painted a mirage of stars.

All the desks had a rose and a cardboard mailbox intended for the delivery of Valentines and at the center of the room a table filled with cupcakes and strawberry Capri-sun packets. Preparation for the party this afternoon, and.

Mr. Talamantez had turned their space into a glittering, perfect fairytale.

Billy hugged his basket of Valentines close to his chest and tried not to search for Steve before dropping his backpack at the cubby station.

He was right in the middle of tugging his special sweater down over his head when Barbara scooted in next to him, pretty in a little pink jumpsuit.

She handed him a tiny, delicate giftbag full of chocolate hearts and dinosaur erasers, smiling from ear to ear as Billy hugged her nice and tight before handing off something he had made special. A tiny paper crane his mommy helped him fold, and a bunch of rainbow goldfish sat nestled in a basket of paper Mache.

They were her favorite snack in the whole world and Barbara was Billy's favorite person, so it seemed fitting.

She hugged him and Billy smiled, peering around the room for a head of wavy brown hair. "We could share our presents with Steve," He muttered, like. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Billy tugged on the sleeves of his red sweater and tried to stay cool. "Where is he?"

Barbara pointed to the book shelves.

Steve was sat under a string of twinkly lights, shoulders tucked against the pillows Mr. Talamantez set aside for circle time. His face was buried in the crook of his elbow, and.

He was crying.

Of course he was crying.

Billy felt the Valentine in his pocket grow heavy.

Barbara said, "Steve broke his glasses, maybe you could make him smile?"

And.

Billy wanted to do that. Longed to make Steve giggle and chirp with happiness like the annoying little Meadowlark he seemed be. It would be so easy to. Walk over there, tap Steve's shoulder, and say the words.

Pose the question.

Will you be my Valentine?

Steve was making huffy, nervous little noises when Billy came to a stop beside him.

"Hey Harrington, playing with all your friends?" Billy sneered, confident that Steve would giggle like he was did, but.

When he finally turned around his face was red and puffy. As if he'd been crying all morning and all night, too.

"What do you want, Billy?" Steve whispered.

He sounded sleepy. Spread thin, like the last spoonful of jam on burned toast.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked carefully. "What happened?"

Steve sat and rubbed at his eyes, chin wobbling as more tears spilled over. "My daddy broke my glasses." He whispered.

And Billy hated it.

He always hated when Steve cried but today. Right now, he.

Felt like he had to do something about it.

Billy took the love heart from his pocket and sat down next to Steve, cuddling back into the pillows until their shoulders were touching. It took all of five seconds for Steve to settle in next to him. Roll his head back against the wall until he was looking at Billy with a question in his eyes.

Steve looked at Billy's shoulder and back up at his face, like.

"Can I--"

"Come here, stupid." Billy grumbled, Pulling Steve in until they were cuddling on the pillows.

Steve chirped. It wasn't his usual sound, light and airy, it was.

Thick.

And heavy.

Like a blanket sopped with rain water. Steve buried his face in Billy's neck. "I don't have any Valentines to give this year."

"That's okay."

"I made something special for you," Steve whispered, pulling back to study Billy's face. "I know Mr. Talamantez said we weren't supposed to, but--"

"Will you be my Valentine?" Billy's stupid mouth said.

Steve blinked at him, and.

Billy wanted to hide in the bathroom for thousand years.

Steve pulled away to sit crisscross-applesauce. Facing Billy, like this was something important. "Huh?"

Billy mirrored him, tucking his hands away so they wouldn't shake when he held out the love heart.

It was pink. Big and bright and outlined with a white doily that Susan helped him glue around the edges. Billy had dug through Max's box of stickers for the one with Winne the Pooh, the one he'd been saving for someone special. Winnie was covered in tiny valentines, eating right out of a jar of honey with a butterfly sitting on his nose, and.

Billy had thought it was perfect.

He worked for hours on the font. The saying that made his mommy laugh when he read it to her; you're bear-y sweet. Be my Valentine.

Steve took the love heart in his hands, and.

Didn't say anything.

Billy frowned. "I just. Remember you asked me to be your Valentine, or. For you to be mine. And--" His hands were shaking again. "It's stupid. God, this is--"

Steve leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

It was gentle. Like the brush of butterfly wings, barely there and then gone before Billy had a chance to really register the movement, or. Think about what it could mean.

Steve wasn't crying anymore when he said, "I'll be your Valentine."

Billy's brain took a minute to catch up. "Huh?"

"I'll be your Valentine, Billy." Steve giggled, staring down at the love heart once more. "This is so cute. I loved Winnie the Pooh when I was a baby. My mom always put me in footie pajamas that had Eeyore on them. And tinker bell too, sometimes. You could've put the Red power ranger on there instead. He's my favorite--"

Billy sat back against the pillows.

He was learning that Steve Harrington was weird.

Like a puzzle with one piece missing, or. An empty tube of bubble mix. Steve was colorful and loud and all over the place with opinions. He shined bright and loved hard, and.

Sometimes it was best to sit back and listen.

--

Happy Valentines Day!!

I really just sat down and wrote this. Wow. Anyway--thank you for reading and supporting my work. Your comments and endless kindness keep me going when I don't always feel like trucking on, and I wanted to do something to remind you that if this was an elementary school classroom I would give you so many lollipops.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #valentines day #first kiss #kidfic #soft billy hargrove #I know I'm late #but I love ya #and I will everyday #so really #everyday is valentines #not to be a fucking sap #but it;s true

[psychoseal]

TAG Minibang 2021

for @tagminibang​ I got together with the awesomely talented @scattergraph​ to create a little fluff piece exploring the relationship between Gordon and Virgil and how they always have each others backs. Gordon is not known as Virgil’s wingman for no reason. I did the words, and @scattergraph​ did the most adorable illustrations! so without any further delays I present to you: Wingman. 

Gordon is bored. It has done nothing but rain all morning, and he has taken to sitting on the windowsill watching the constant pounding of the drops on the pane. The sky is bleak and grey, the clouds looking as though they will never empty.

Alan is sleeping in Scott’s arms oblivious to his big brothers discontent as he snoozes happily and Scott is watching some documentary about some project he has no interest in. If it isn’t water related, Gordon does not care!  

John is out doing a grocery shop with their mom while their dad has been left to hold down the fort, and he escaped to his office to catch up on some work before Lucy’s car had even left the driveway, because he would rather do anything than play with Gordon. Gordon knows this.

Sighing dramatically he jumps from his spot and goes to find Virgil. Skipping up the soft carpeted stairs, before crashing in through his elder brother’s bedroom door, slightly breathless and runs into the room before diving onto the bed.

“For crying out loud Gordon! Knock” Virgil tells him from his desk, rolling his eyes.

Gordon’s heart sinks. Even Virgil doesn’t want to play with him.

Seeing the devastation on his little brother’s face, Virgil’s own heart melts with compassion.

“Sorry Squiddie, what do you want?” Virgil asks kindly.

“I’m bored Virgy. I want to go swimming but daddy said I can’t because it is raining. I said that it doesn’t matter because the pool is wet already and he shouted at me to leave him alone so I tried to play with Scott and he was too busy being boring and old.” Gordon tells him almost in tears.

Virgil gets up from the desk, where he has been working on a sketch from a photograph of their trip to the beach the previous summer, planning on giving it to his mom for her birthday in a few weeks time, and joins Gordon on the bed.

“Dad is busy with work and you know the pool rules, they’re there for your safety Fish” Virgil tells him gently, wiping away a stray tear from Gordon’s cheek with his sleeve.

“But the rules are so boring Virgy” Gordon replies in disgust. “All I get all day is “no Gordon you can’t play in the rain, you’ll get sick” “no Gordon you can’t jump off the piano, you’ll hurt yourself” it’s so unfair!” He is whining, and he knows it. But he doesn’t care. Nothing in his day is going the way he planned.

Virgil nods along with him, knowing that it is easier to agree rather than argue. “What do you want to do?” He asks, thinking that if he keeps him quiet and entertained then his father will be happy.

“I want to fly” Gordon replies with a grin.

“Pardon?” Virgil replies trying not to laugh.

“I saw it on tv. We can make a plane out of cardboard and fly it down the stairs” Gordon insists getting up and dragging a box full of art supplies out from under the bed and dumping the contents on the floor. “See we can decorate the box and we will both sit inside and fly down the stairs”

Virgil just stares at his brother, making a mental note to stop him watching tv!

But his little brother’s enthusiasm is contagious and he finds himself joining in decorating their plane. He even finds some additional cardboard so that they can make wings.

Gordon writes their names on the wings in big loopy handwriting with a thick black permanent marker; “GRODON” is on the right-hand wing and “VIRGILE” is on the left.

“Virgy can we paint it now?” Gordon asks delighted with their box plane.

Virgil nods happily, caught up on their project now. “Hang on I will go and get the paints, what colours are we painting it?”

“Yellow and green!” Gordon replies automatically. Combining both of their favourite colours. “Can you get the stripy paint?”

Virgil laughs at their old joke. A hand me down joke from their grandfather who tells a story about sending an apprentice carpenter on a mission for stripy paint as a joke. “Always”

Working together the painting of the plane does not take the two brothers long, and neither of them realise that they are getting paint everywhere, it is all over their clothes. And there are great splotches on Virgil’s bedroom carpet and he knows that his parent’s won’t be happy but that is the last thing on his mind. Gordon even has a streak of yellow paint on his face, under his left eye, across his nose and running down to his chin.

“What are we going to do while it dries?” Virgil asks. This is Gordon’s project and he doesn’t want to take over.

Gordon sits back against the bed and thinks. Waving the brush still in his hand causing even more paint to fly across the room splattering the walls. “Build a fort”

Virgil grabs the blanket off his bed and climbs up on his desk and throws it over the door and propping it up with two chairs. One from his desk and the other from Scott’s room to create an opening. Gordon grabs the pillows from Virgil’s bed and places them in their fort and they get settled on the floor.

“Can you read me a story?” Gordon asks resting his head on Virgil’s shoulder.

“How about I tell you a story?” Virgil replies. Not really wanting to move now he is comfortable.

“Okay” Gordon agrees. “But I want it to have dragons and monsters who want to eat Scotty and Johnny and Allie and you and I want to be the hero who saves the dragons and the monsters from being poisoned because I bet you all taste yucky”

Virgil stretches his arm and wraps it about Gordon’s shoulders.

“What should the dragons look like?” Virgil asks.

“Big and mean and green and they can breathe fire and the monsters are bright orange with tentycall thingies sticking up out their giant heads”

“Why don’t we draw them?” Virgil asks. “We can illustrate the story”

Gordon nods happily. The plane forgotten momentarily as they draw big colourful monsters eating their siblings and tearing apart their school, only for Gordon to save the day when he takes the monsters and moves them into the barn so he can have them for pets.

“You’re so good at drawing Virgy” Gordon tells him appreciatively. “Can we go and fly now?”

Virgil crawls out of their fort and checks the plane. It is still sticky but it will do. “Sure come on” he tells Gordon, holding open the door to the fort for his brother to join him.

Together they carefully carry the plane out of the room and across the hallway to the top of the stairs.

“You get in first Virgy then I can sit on your lap and we can push from the walls” Gordon demands.

Virgil obeys his brothers commands and sits back in the box, but he can feel a knot twist in his stomach as he looks down the steep stairs. A sudden nervousness, maybe this isn’t such a great idea! “Gordon? I don’t think we should do this”

“Why? It is fun” Gordon replies.

Virgil sighs before trying to explain. “What happens if he fall out, we could get hurt Gords”

This hasn’t occurred to Gordon and he turns around in the plane to look at his big brother. Reaching out for his hand and enveloping it with his much smaller one and smiling reassuringly. “Trust me Virgy. You won’t get hurt; I would never let you get hurt”

His eyes are so wide and so trusting. Eyes so close to Virgil’s own deep amber ones that he just can’t help but believe him. “Okay my little wingman, let’s do this thing” he finally speaks up his eyebrows lowering over his face deep in concentration as he pulls his hand free from Gordon’s and grabs hold of the top of the banister to “start the engine”.

Gordon squeals in delight as the box flies down the stairs, leaving more paint on the walls and carpet as the wings brush against the wall and bannister. He can feel the friction burning his backside and legs as they shoot downwards. This is even better than the pool!

To Virgil’s surprise they make it to the bottom in one piece and Gordon jumps up laughing so hard he can’t even stand still, his legs wobbling slightly before he gets his earth legs back.

Turning back to Virgil he is delighted to see an equally large grin on his face. “Again?” He asks hopefully.

Virgil doesn’t hesitate this time. “Yes!” He replies happily jumping up from the plane and helping Gordon drag it back up the stairs for its second flight.

They are halfway down the stairs when the front door opens and their mom comes marching into the house, her arms laden with paper bags packed with groceries and followed by John who can’t even see over the top of the bag, his bright red hair is the only thing that makes him look like a human and not a grocery bag with legs!

“LOOK OUT!” Gordon’s now panicked cry causes John to startle, and he stumbles, falling over his feet.

The bag goes flying, a graceful arc over to the stairs towards the plane. A bag of flour explodes all over Gordon and Virgil and a dozen eggs shatter mixing with the flour in their hair and all over their clothes. Gordon starts to giggle. This was even better than the flight! Getting filthy if one of his most beloved hobbies.

Lucy hearing Gordon’s cry comes running from the kitchen. John is crying, tears streaming down his face from the fall and the embarrassment of dropping the groceries. And he is her priority as she carefully kneels down to his level and helps him up into a sitting position and wrapping him up in her arms for a cuddle. Gently wiping away his tears in a similar way to Virgil did for Gordon just a few hours before.

“Are you hurt Johnny?” She asks concerned.

“MY KNEE HURTS!” He wails burying his face into her shoulder while she rubs his back with small comforting circles.

“Let’s have a look” Lucy replies. Lifting up the leg of his jeans to reveal a slight scrape, with small splatters of blood oozing through the cracked skin. “Oh Johnny that does look really sore. Come with me into the kitchen and I will get you sorted out. Would you like a plaster with planets on?”

John looks up from her shoulder and nods, allowing her to pick him up and carry him away.

“You two stay where you are” Lucy tells Gordon and Virgil, not even bothering to turn around. Her mom sense kicking in that the two culprits were about to run away!

“Think we have time for one more flight?” Gordon asks.

“Mom said we have to stay here” Virgil reminds him.

“Spoil sport” Gordon replies pouting.

“Okay fine but if I get grounded it’s your fault!” Virgil replies as they both clamber up out of the plane to their feet.  

They don’t even get halfway back up the stairs before their mom comes back, and she is uncharacteristically furious. Her usually sunny features are incandescent with rage as she approaches the two boys.

Even Gordon cowers at the sight. Brave and fearless Gordon, cowers under the angry glare of his mother.

“WHATON EARTH WERE THE PAIR OF YOU THINKING?!” She thunders, her voice rattling the walls and causing both Scott and their father to come running.

“What is going on out here?” Jeff asks.

Lucy turns her fiery amber eyes on him, “YOU SHOULD KNOW. I ONLY LEFT YOU IN CHARGE FOR A FEW HOURS AND THIS IS WHAT I COME HOM TOO! VIRGIL, GORDON UPSTAIRS NOW AND START RUNNING A BATH, THE PAIR OF YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY FILTHY”

Virgil grabs Gordon’s hand and the pair race up the stairs to the safety of Virgil’s room before collapsing onto the bed laughing until tears are streaming down their cheeks.

“Come on, I think we ought to do as we are told and have that bath” Virgil tells Gordon once he has his breath back.  

Gordon loves the bath and happily agrees, following his elder brother down the hallway and into the bathroom he shares with his brothers.

The original tub has been ripped out and replaced with on twice the size of a standard tub, mainly for Gordon to play in!

“Can we have bubbles?” he asks hopefully.

“Sure” Virgil replies, as Gordon pours in the whole bottle of the strawberry bubble bath he found on the side of the tub. Virgil bites his lip, as he knows that was not a very good idea but he has had so much fun this afternoon, that his momentary moment of conscience is quickly buried.

Gordon strips off his clothes and dives into the warm bubbly water, grabbing his toy submarine so he can take it for a voyage. He is almost buried in bubbles, which are steadily rising higher as the tub continues to fill up.

“This has been the best day Virgy” Gordon tells him happily as he splashes him with water.

“Yeah it has Fish, we should do it more often!” Virgil replies with a grin, before sticking his hands in the water, and dumping bubbly water over Gordon’s head.

“VIRGY!” Gordon squeals, before pulling his brother into the tub. Virgil hits the water, which splashes over the side of the tub and hits the floor. “Oops” Gordon says giggling.

“You’re going down Squiddie!” Virgil replies laughing and splashing more water onto his brother’s face and not bothering to get out the tub. His clothes are soaking but he is having too good a time to care, and he cares even less about the water spreading its way across the floor.

Their play fight is interrupted when their parent’s barge into the room, having heard the commotion.

“WHAT ON EARTH?” Jeff roars, causing the two boys to jump in surprise.

“Hi Daddy” Gordon replies flashing his father his most charming smile.

“DON’T hi Daddy me young man, I asked you a question” Jeff’s voice is just above a whisper, a low almost menacing growl, which Gordon doesn’t back away from.

“We are having a bath Daddy, just like you and Mommy said” Gordon replies with an unrepentant shrug.

Jeff reaches across the boys and pulls the plug on their bath. Causing Gordon to squeak with indignation as they weren’t doing anything wrong. Jeff ignores his protests and lifts him out of the tub, wrapping him up in a warm, dry fluffy towel and walking him from the room, while Virgil sighs in resignation and follows Gordon and their parents from the room.

Jeff takes Gordon into his own bedroom to help him get dressed, while Lucy follows Virgil into his. Stopping in shock when she finally sets eyes on the destruction. “VIRGIL GRISSOM TRACY!”

Virgil finally stops to look at the chaos unleashed by his brother in boredom and flinches at the sight of the paint splattered walls, carpet and bedding. They have even somehow managed to get paint on the ceiling. The floor is littered with coloured pens without lids where the ink is staining the already ruined carpet, the bed sheet Virgil supplied for the fort somehow has a large tear in the side and his heart sinks because he just knows that he is in the biggest trouble ever!

“Get this cleaned up now and then get to bed” Lucy demands before storming from the room, the door slamming loudly behind her like a prison cell.

Virgil starts to clear away the fallen pens, slamming them putting back into his art supplies box with fury and returns it to its spot under the bed, when Gordon joins him, now fully dressed in his pyjamas and a dressing gown, dragging his cuddly squid behind him. Even Squid looks upset at the turn of events. This wasn’t what he wanted.  

“Virgy?” He asks tentatively.

“Get lost Gordon, I am in so much trouble because of you” Virgil replies, throwing a pillow at his brother’s head.

Gordon gets the message and flees the room, running back down the hallway to his own room and bursting into tears. He never meant for anything bad to happen and now Virgil hates him. He cries until he falls asleep, buried into a nest of blankets.

*TB*

Virgil is starving. He hates being punished but being sent to bed without any supper is the worst. This is all Gordon’s fault. He should never have listened to him, never have let him talk him into this.

It is just after midnight and the house is silent and still. The rain from earlier turned into a storm, which has finally abated leaving the night sky cloudless and clear. Stars can be seen for miles from his window, which he has opened up to tempt in some fresh air while he sits up on the windowsill gazing out at his freedom.

His reverie is broken when his doorknob slowly starts to turn and the door creaks open almost silently before someone quietly pads across the room to his bed. “Virgy?” the voice whispers. “Where are you?”

“Over here Fish” Virgil replies.

“I brung you a snack” he tells him smiling and holding out a pilfered bag of crisps.

Virgil jumps down from the windowsill and joins Gordon on the bed, helping himself to a few crisps, shovelling them into his mouth and savouring the salty flavour before swallowing.

“I’m so sorry Virgy, I never wanted to get you into trouble” Gordon tells him, his voice breaking with threatened tears.

Virgil abandons the crisps and embracing his younger brother with both arms, pulling him onto his lap. “It’s okay Fish really. I would never have tried it if you hadn’t of suggested it. It was fun. Right up until we got caught!”

“Really? You’re not mad?” Gordon asks hopefully.

“Not anymore Fish, it was partly my fault too” Virgil insists. “Come on let’s get some sleep”

The pair cuddle up in Virgil’s bed and both fall asleep quickly. Gordon trusts Virgil to always keep him safe, and for the first time since he gained a Fish brother, Virgil knows that he can always put his full trust in his little wingman.

*TB*

“And as the years go by, our friendship will never die” Gordon sings from his spot, on Virgil’s back.

Virgil rolls his eyes. He is sure that the ankle Gordon claims he has sprained is just an excuse for a lift back to Thunderbird 2 following a difficult rescue in the desert. The sun is beating down on their heads, and Virgil is exhausted.

“Come on Virg! SING VIRG!” Gordon encourages him, waving his arms around.

“Hold on properly, or I will make you get down and walk!” Virgil admonishes him with mock severity.

“You wound me big brother” Gordon replies “what was wrong with my singing?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Virgil replies with a grin as he continues to trudge towards the giant green ship which is mercifully fitted with air conditioning!

Finally they make it to the safety of Thunderbird 2, and Virgil unceremoniously deposits his brother into the passenger seat, before he starts to make the flight home.

Gordon yawns dramatically from his seat, having pulled one of the spare blankets up to his chin. “Hey Virg?” he calls sleepily.

“Yeah Gords?” Virgil replies glancing over his shoulder.

“Sing with me?”

Virgil sighs, it has always been this way. He can’t resist those puppy dog eyes!

“When the road looks rough ahead

And you're miles and miles

From your nice warm bed

You just remember what your old pal said…

YOU’VE GOT A FRIEND IN ME”

Gordon is fast asleep by the end of the song, which is how Virgil likes him! He may be his wingman, but there are just sometimes when he needs a break!

#tag mini bang 2021 #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #fanfiction #Fanart #thunderbirds fanfiction

[ahkaahshi]

how they handle the wedding planning process [scenarios]

pairings: hirugami sachirou; oikawa tooru; miya osamu x fem reader

genre: fluff, humor

warning(s): two swear words. that’s it, surprisingly enough.

Hirugami is well known for being cool as a cucumber under the most intense of conditions. It’s a skill he's refined over the years, and, boy, does it come in handy during the wedding planning process. If you’re stressed, he’s there to calm you down. If you’re doubting decisions you’ve made about your dress, venue, food, or literally anything else, he’s there to reassure you that right or wrong doesn’t matter, as long as the two of you are happy together and in agreement.

Not only is he a seasoned professional in the arts of remaining calm, but he’s also a skilled crafter. Yes, that’s right. This man will go HAM in the arts and crafts department. Think you need to hire someone to make cute invitations and a table decorations? Think again. Hirugami’s on it, and at only the cost of a few kisses an hour. If he’s workin’ overtime, he might request a lil shoulder rub every now and then, but talk about a good rate! Plus, he does a great job and you know what he makes is special because he put his heart into it.

“How’s it going, Sachirou?” you ask with a gentle sigh as you walk into the living room from the kitchen with a bag of chips in hand.

From where he’s sitting on the floor, focused on his work, he lifts his head and directs a gentle smile your way. “Good. I’m almost done with the invitations now,” he responds and returns to his duties once more.

With half a chip in your mouth, you pause for a moment to marvel at the sight before you. At the center of a sea of craft supplies sits your tall fiancé, looking calm and controlled as ever while his nimble fingers place appliqué decorations onto one of the many strips of paper in front of him. He’s wearing golden glitter on his cheeks like war paint and has his crafting weapons--paint, brushes, markers, and ribbon--neatly arranged within arm’s reach. The way he grabs what he needs without glancing away from his work for a second reveals just how much time he’s spent on this project.

Feeling your heart warm at his efforts, you continue walking through the room so you can carefully sit down beside him and spend some time with him. You don’t even have to utter a word for him to know you’re stressed.

“Just get off the phone with your mom?” he wonders. Your arrival warrants a break, so he backs away from his project for a moment and sticks his hand in the bag of chips you’re cradling.

You nod in response to his inquiry and mention, “She’s been driving me up the wall about all the little details. I know she means well, and all, but she’s just stressing me out.”

A hum echoes from behind his lips as his eyes move to yours. You think he’s going to say something reassuring or inspirational once he's finished munching, but, instead, he dips his fingertips into a container of glitter and spreads it across your cheeks in two, long swipes.

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, you murmur, “What the heck are you doing, Sachirou? I need you to stay sane.”

“(L/n), (f/n)--soon to be Hirugami (f/n)--you are now a wedding warrior,” he announces, an amused grin forming across his lips. A moment of silence passes as you mentally question his state of mind. Maybe he hadn’t been the same since he’d left for the craft store earlier. “Which means,” he continues, pausing to press a kiss against your lips, “you’re strong and you can do this, okay? We’re in this together, so I’m right here with you, baby.”

His words and actions bring that reassurance that you’d been seeking in a goofier way than you’d anticipated, but one that you appreciated nonetheless. You utter a gentle promise of love to him that he returns and seals with another kiss placed on your forehead.

“Should I let you get back to work, then, wedding warrior?” you ask.

He nods and replies, “I’ll collect all my hourly kisses when I’m done.”

Oikawa is a methodical guy who always wants to be in control. Because of this, he’ll be just as hands-on in the wedding planning process as you are. In fact, there will be multiple times when you’ll have to tell him to step down, or you’ll argue because of your competing visions. However, his love for you will trump any desire of his to “win”--in terms of disagreements over certain aspects of your wedding--and he’ll always want to pick the option that will make you happy. Though, keep in mind, it may take him a bit of time to understand your point of view and come to terms with it.

While having a helicopter mom of a wedding planner for a fiancé might not be every woman’s dream, he is very helpful and you can always be assured that you’ll never have to shoulder the entire burden of the process yourself. It’s tiring! You don’t want to do it all by yourself, and that’s why you can be thankful that you have someone to share the workload with. If he’s busy at practice/training over the weekend, he knows that you’re working hard at home. Likewise, while you’re at work, you know you can trust him to get things done in your absence. He won’t let anything slip through the cracks, so you’ll never have to worry about the job getting done or any details being forgotten. You’ll just have to make sure you’re planning a wedding for the both of you, not for just one of you.

“No, I don’t like those floral arrangements for the tables.”

Oikawa’s lips settle into a frown upon hearing you express your discontentment with his idea. “Well, I don’t like the arrangement you like, either, (f/n)-chan, so what do you wanna do, then?” he grumbles.

As your gaze wanders around the shop filled to the brim with different varieties of flora and fauna, you take a deep breath of the air tinged with the potent scent of roses. You don’t like the way your fiancé’s looking at you right now or how he has his arms crossed in front of his toned chest as his foot taps against the floor with impatience.

“Tooru,” you groan quietly and shoot a withering glance towards his shoe, “Come on. These aren’t the only options we have.”

He retorts, “But we really don’t have the time to spend looking for another florist. And I think these arrangements are perfect. They match our color scheme and they look classy.”

You shake your head and take your bottom lip between your teeth. “I’m sorry; they’re just not what I envisioned. Besides, we don’t have to find another florist. Why don’t we just go around the shop with him and pick out some flowers we both like?”

There’s a long silence as he wrestles with the idea of compromise and his pride. Getting him to sacrifice the latter is harder than pulling a chew toy out of a pit bull’s mouth. But, for you, he’s willing to entertain the idea that he doesn’t always have to be right, since what he always wants is for you to be happy.

After a few moments pass, the expression on his face softens and his hand finds yours. He takes a long look at the engagement ring glittering on your finger before he presses a gentle kiss against the back of your hand and gives it a squeeze. “Okay,” he concedes, “let’s do that.”

A small smile graces your lips as you peck his cheek and give him a soft pat on the shoulder. “I know you just want everything to be perfect, baby, but let’s work together, okay?”

He murmurs in agreement and plants another kiss on your lips. “As long as I can have my milk bread on the menu, there’s no need to worry.”

“I’m glad your milk bread is worth the cost of including those embarrassing baby photos of you in the slideshow.”

“Don’t remind me, princess. Now, let’s go look at flowers.”

Osamu is more laid back by nature, and, while he’s willing to help, he probably won’t sweat the fact that you two have a huge event coming up. He won’t be getting into a tizzy about the ins and outs of wedding planning, so he often comes off as being apathetic about the whole thing. This can be extremely frustrating for someone who loves to plan and fusses over every, grueling detail of the event. However, it’s important to understand that his hands-off approach comes from his trust in you rather than from laziness.

Because he knows you have everything under control, he’ll be a part of the process by taking on a supportive role. Truth be told, he really does care about the fact that you’re getting married. He wants nothing more than to be with you for the rest of his life. So, if you want an opinion, you can go to him and he’ll help you. If you want him to make a decision, ask him and he will. If you need him to do anything, let him know and it’s done. Otherwise, he’ll just make sure you’re well taken-care of while you handle things.

Oh, and don’t even bother looking into catering options. That’s strictly his department and he’s an expert. Let him work his magic.

Your (e/c) eyes burn with strain as they flicker between the bright screen of your laptop and the notebook resting on your leg. For the umpteenth time that evening, you try turning down the brightness only to find that it was already at the lowest possible setting. This causes a small groan to echo in your throat as you scan the webpage tirelessly for any information you can find about each potential wedding venue you’d been considering.

The only thing that gives you pause is the sound of footsteps padding across the wooden floor behind you. Looking over your shoulder brings your attention to your fiancé, who’s dressed in his sweater and boxers, sporting a disheveled head of dark hair.

“(F/n)?” he utters, steel-colored eyes shifting over to your form, “What’re ya doin’ up? It’s fuckin’ two in the mornin’.”

Shaking your head and brushing strands of your own, messy hair away from your face, you explain, “I was too stressed to sleep. I can’t sleep until I find a good set of venues to look into tomorrow.”

Though he wears a clear look of disbelief on his features, he doesn’t try to stop you, since he knows that won’t get him anywhere. “Fine. But don’t be complainin’ when you’ve got a headache tomorrow, love.”

His words are dry and sharp, but you know the intentions behind them are warm and soft, so you don’t argue or huff in response. Instead, you turn back to your laptop and continue your research.

When you tear your gaze away from your work once more, it’s because Osamu’s at your side, offering you a mug filled with warm tea. “Come back to bed once you’ve finished this, alright?” he bargains as you hook your fingers around the handle and bring the drink to your mouth. You nod wordlessly, and he glances over at the notebook perched on your thigh. “Need any help?”

“I’ll need some tomorrow, but I'm okay for now. Thanks, ‘Samu.”

He places his hand on your shoulder and swoops down to press a kiss against the crown of your head. “I wantcha back in bed by three. If ya stay up later than that, ya start gettin’ all grumpy, ‘nd you know it.”

You chuckle and reassure him, “I know, baby. I promise I’ll be in bed before then.”

“Hey,” he speaks in a tone that’s more tender than that he’s been using, making you look up at him expectantly. “Whatever place ya pick, it’s gonna be great, alright?” You try not to giggle at the way his words are ever so slightly slurred by his fatigue as he continues, “As long as yer happy ‘nd the bank ain’t broken, we’re good.”

“I love you,” you coo against his lips in the moments before they meet with yours.

“I love ya too, babe,” he responds when the two of you pull away, “I’ll be awake, waitin’ for ya ta come back, so don’t be late.”

You scoff, “Oh, c’mon, ‘Samu, you were never awake to begin with.”

He clicks his tongue and places his finger on his chin in an act of contemplation before waving you off and trudging back to your bedroom. “Shit, ya got that right. But if yer up past three, I’ll know it. Trust me.”

#fran writes hq!! #haikyuu!! #hirugami sachirou #oikawa tooru #miya osamu #hirugami sachirou x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #miya osamu x reader #reader insert #x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #scenarios #hq!! #hirugami x reader #oikawa x reader #osamu x reader #I love these sweet boys so much #can you imagine marrying them #that's the best part of this whole thing lol #we can only dream #I am so soft for them #lol can you tell #I feel like you can #funny #anime #manga #fluff #cute

[remmushound]

Beyond the bay chapter 8: Home not-quite home

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @scentedcandlecryptid @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr @ilo-artistry

“You’re welcome in our home as long as you need.” 

The lair the Splintersons entered in many ways resembled the one they knew. It was big and open, and as clean as one could possibly hope a sewer to be. It wasn’t as cluttered as the lair Leo knew best, and there certainly seemed to be a lot more room and space to stretch out. Graffiti was plentiful, Michelangelo’s style just as abstract and bold as Mikey’s contributions were on the walls back home. Candles were lit on raised shelves to provide a pleasant scent of lavender and spring into the air. 

“It’s lovely.” Splinter beamed ear-to-ear as he reached out with his senses to take in everything the living space had to offer. “However did you get it so neat?”

“Donnie thinks it used to be an old survival bunker back before dad found it.” Raphael commented.

“Speaking of which, where is your father?” Splinter asked, “I haven’t seen him in ages and I should like to catch up.”

It was like the very air in the room dropped several degrees, all four Hamato’s stiffening. Raphael clenched his jaw and his fists, while Leonardo and Donatello bunched their shoulders in a similarly tense motion. Splinter frowned and looked to the youngest; Michelangelo’s head ducked so low that only his eyes were peeking over the edge of his plastron. 

“He uh…” Raphael started, then immediately stopped when no words that came to mind sounded right.

“He’s taking a nap.” Leonardo assisted, a hand going out to grip Raphael’s; Raphael returned the pressure as he let himself breathe. “He doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

“Of course.” Splinter nodded slowly, tail twitching a sign to his confused sons to not question the situation further. “Us old rats certainly need our rest.”

Splinter laughed. Encouraged by the rats happy noise, Michelangelo slowly peeked his head back out of his shell with a slight giggle and smile. No one seemed to know what to say. The box turtle brothers shouldered their way deeper into the lair to start exploration of the place that would shelter them. Mikey, with Klunk in one arm, went to pluck a lit candle off of a shelf to smell; a sharp rebuttal from Splinter’s tail was all it took to correct and remind him not to touch. He still wanted to stay there to admire the plumes of smoke, but his entourage of older brothers forced him to keep going; not one of them had any plans of leaving their brother to his own devices. Not when his right side was so tight he could hardly move it. That, plus this strange new environment, made the instinct to protect the smallest brother grew to new heights. Slowly, like a herd of lumbering cattle, they made their way deeper into the living room area. Raph couldn’t help but whistle at the sight of the beautiful decor, admiring the fancy couch and neat stitch-work on the hand-made cushions. Donnie was more enraptured by the projection screen than anything else, his eyes like specks of gold in the earth as he approached the machine with eager chirps, only to be met with the same painful reminder from Splinter to not touch.

Raph gave a snort and shook his head before turning his full attention back to his friends, shifting his toothpick to the opposite side of his mouth. Michelangelo remained focused on the small piece of wood, his eyes like pin pricks at the nasty habit. He had figured Raph would eventually grow out of it! Alas, it was not to be, and here Raph was, still chewing on that nasty stick of wood.

“You all really seemed to have eh… buffed up since last we met.” Raph commented, crossing his arms.

“And you got uglier, if that’s possible.” Leonardo snapped back, lips pulling into a devilish grin.

“Leo—” Raphael started to correct, but Raph only laughed a deep, belly laugh.

“You’re just as snappy as ever, I see.” Raph gave Leonardo a smack on the back, which sent the turtle stumbling. Raph winced at his mistake and drew slightly into himself. “Oof. Sorry!”

Leonardo caught himself and laughed it off. Leo shot a glare over to Raph, who only shrugged in a ‘what are you gonna do?’ motion. Leo decided it best not to cause unnecessary conflict, so he shook his head and tried to push the altercation to the back of his mind.

“Come here, little man!” Raph opened an arm and pulled Michelangelo closer, giving him a tight squeeze. He rubbed Michelangelo’s head with his knuckles, almost choking the younger boy as Michelangelo tried to pull himself free of the bicep’s tight grip. Once he had successfully freed himself, Raph crouched down to Michelangelo’s level. “Lemme see ya! You gotten big, kid!”

Michelangelo puffed out his chest and cheeks proudly, putting hands on his hips and glowing under the praise.

“Oh, so he gets to call you little man?” Raphael asked, his voice almost hurt.

“Don’t start a fight, Raphie!” Michelangelo huffed, pointing at Raphael.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to get in a scuff wit’ ya.” Raph commented, and Raphael seemed just as proud of the compliment as Michelangelo had been. “You're as big as my Don now!”

Donnie and Raphael fell back to back with each other, Leonardo and Michelangelo both jumping on the opportunity to judge the height differences. Michelangelo scrambled up Donnie like a jungle gym to get better leverage and a more level view.

“Actually, I think Raph is a little bigger.” Leonardo said, then gave a side glance to Mikey. “What says the jury?”

“I say that’s a very big boi.” Michelangelo nodded and stated matter-a-factly.

“Heh, how’s it feel to be the second tallest, Ding-Don?” Raph smirked, nudging Donnie with his elbow.

Donnie tensed at the elbow to his side, readjusted his glasses, and said, “I don’t know Raph; how’s it feel to be the third tallest?”

Raph blinked. “Shit.”

“Language!” Splinter corrected Raph with a whip of his tail.

“Gee, he really likes doing that.” Leonardo commented, leaning over to whisper to his counterpart.

“You have no idea.” Leo laughed breathlessly, shaking his head.

Michelangelo, meanwhile, had found a new favorite game; Donnie, resigned to being Michelangelo’s plaything, held out his arm so the younger box turtle could swing on it like it was a monkey bar. It didn't cost the tech genius anything more than time, and seeing the little box turtle so happy and laughing made his heart flood with just as much joy. He remembered when Mikey had been like that, so happy to hang on his brothers like they were the most fun game in the lair. Mikey still did it from time to time, but it was different coming from another young box turtle.

Michelangelo swung several more times before he launched himself off of Donnie’s arm, flying through the air and landing perfectly on Leo’s shoulders. Leo flinched at the sudden weight on his shoulders but, when he recognized Michelangelo, he gave a smile and left the turtle to his devices. From there, Michelangelo jumped to Raph, who had been expecting the change and caught the little turtle in one arm. Michelangelo started to climb over Raph like a spidermonkey, giggling the whole time, before he got to Raph’s shoulders and launched himself at Mikey.

Mikey’s immediate instinct was to reach out with his Right arm.

“Mikey, wait—“ Donnie tried to warn.

Mikey caught Michelangelo—and immediately cried out. His arm bulged, veins looking ready to burst at the strain. It took all the focus of his training to not drop Michelangelo outright, instead carefully lowering the younger turtle to the ground before falling against the wall clutching his arm. Klunk scrambled from Mikey’s grip, terrified of the sudden commotion.

“Nnngnnoo, Klunky…”

Donnie was with his brother in seconds, supporting Mikey’s weight while whispering low and urgent to the mutant. Before he realized his feet were moving, Leonardo was there too, helping to calm and stabilize Mikey as the box turtle writhed and cried. He immediately started to guide Mikey and Donnie toward the medbay, and the rest of the mutants followed like lost puppies. They stopped at the threshold of the sterile environment, staring helplessly inside as Leonardo and Donnie guided Mikey to a bed do he could rest.

“Something happened, didn't it?” Leonardo whispered to Donnie, hopefully low enough where Mikey couldn’t hear them.

Donnie gave a weak nod, keeping his voice just as low. “Partial seizure with overall shaking and hypertonic after-effects on his right side.”

“Does your family know?”

Donnie shook his head. “I haven’t told them yet. They know something happened, just not what.”

“Alright.” Leonardo nodded, “What triggered it?”

“I… I don’t know. We've been having a lot more bumps and falls lately. And there was this light…”

“Dudes.” Mikey said finally, his voice weak. “I’m fine. Seriously!”

Leonardo and Donnie exchanged unsure looks before Leonardo turned his attention back to the patient.

“I know you are.” Leonardo said with a bright smile, “But it might help the big softies back there if you let us give you a quick workup.”

Leonardo nodded to the crowd at the doorway, who were all finding their own space to peek in and watch with eyeridges creased in concern. Mikey leaned to get a better view of them, and then fell back into place.

“Okay.” Mikey relented. 

“That’s the spirit.” Leonardo nodded, and then stood up so he could better address his eldest brother. “Raph, maybe you should get everyone situated?”

Raphael took the hint with a gruff growl and started to usher everyone away from the doorway to leave the medics and their patient in peace. 

“Well eh…” It took Raphael a second to think of a new subject, “Sleeping arrangements! I was thinking your Raph and Mikey could take over my room, Leo and Donnie can share Donatello’s room, and you, sensei, can take Leonardo’s room.”

“Oh, we couldn’t!” Splinter tried to dismiss, “Just a couple blankets and pillows should suffice!”

“Nonsense!” Raphael bellowed, “It’s my house, and I’m gonna treat my guests however I want, and I want you all to be comfortable while you’re staying here! Besides, I can’t let an old man sleep on the floor! Leonardo’s bed’s the most comfortable for… your eh… for your back…”

Raphael trailed off, off-put by the sharp, dark eyes of Splinter. Raph and Leo both covered their mouths with a sharp intake of breath, eyes bulging as they quickly divulged away from Splinter.

“I’m not old.” Splinter said in a tone as if he was daring Raphael to contradict. “I’m fifty-seven. Fifty-seven is not old.”

Raphael’s head started to shrink into his shell and his lips pursed in a pouty face. “Am I in trouble…?”

With a kick of his foot, Splinter caught his sandal in a hand and held it out to Raphael with a knowing look. No more words had to be exchanged for the meaning to get across. Splinter replaced his sandal.

“Well… you should still take the bedrooms!” Michelangelo insisted, “That’a way me and my brothers can have a big ol’ sleepover in my room!”

The box turtle struck a happy pose, one leg in the air and his hands clasped together as he beamed. Splinter took one look at him and sighed; he couldn’t say no to that face.

“Thank you for your generosity.” Splinter gave a bow of his head to Raphael, “I promise you we will leave your home in as well of a shape as we found it.”

“Yeah, it’s no sweat.” Raphael said.

“I’ll have Shelldon sanitize and prepare the rooms.” Donatello declared as he typed a message onto his wristband.

“Who?” Raph asked.

As an answer, a force whizzed by his head, with a voice to match. “BOOYAKASHA!”

“What was that?!” Leo gawked, not sure whether or not it was appropriate to grab his swords.

“That was Shelldon.” Donatello said simply, reaching over to close Leo’s mouth for him.

Raph stared after the drone, shaking his head. “Don’s gonna have a geek-gasm…”

~~~

Donnie’s immediate reaction upon seeing the drone was to geek out, and to then try to contain the excitement when he remembered how easy it would be to harm the drone if he wasn’t careful. Instead of actually touching Shelldon, he found his hands hovering over the drone and his breath hard to catch.

“Say hi, Shelldon.” Donatello urged.

“Heyyy!” Shelldon’s voice carried a familiar, robotic tone that one would expect for artificial life, but it also held a sort of ‘surfer-bro’ charm to it. Donnie certainly melted over it.

“Heh. He’s kinda like your drone, but interactive.” Raph pointed out.

“Yeah…” Donnie breathed, and only once he was able to break from the paralyzed state of his body did he flip his goggles down over his eyes. “Hi… I’m Donnie. Oh gods you’re beautiful…”

“He enjoys scritches behind all nine of his ears, located here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here!” Donatello pointed out all of the audio sensors on Shelldon’s body.

“Ohhh…” Donnie finally brought his hands to two of the pointed-out hot spots, carefully massaging along the sensitive sensors. When Shelldon began to purr, Donnie automatically returned the noise. “This is the greatest day of my life…”

Raph crossed his arms. “Aaaaaaand he’s gone”

~~~

Everything was wrong. Everything was dark and wet and it was hard to breathe, the smallest drip quaking him to his core. All he could smell was putrid filth, and all he could see was black, and all he could hear was the water around him. He was up to his waist in water, thick with grime and waste, and the fumes wafted up to suffocate his nose. The air burned his lungs in the worst possible way, but he had to keep going. He had to find his troop and harvest the mutagen. He had to find his commander and he couldn’t stop until he had new orders to follow. For the republic!

#If you call splinter old #you’re gonna have a bad time #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bay turtles #beyond the bay

[amane-by-together]

Blue Hour || Amane Yugi pt. 1/5

(Amane Yugi x Fem!Reader)

genre: romance, drama, and a bit of fantasy

summary: amane was assigned to send letters to [name] from another school for a quarterly pen pal project in their class.

"You and I found in the sky in 5:53"

Amane grabbed a white pen from his black cylindrical pencil case and wrote some finishing touches for his letter on a black sheet of paper. He doodled some stars and constellations around the paper before folding it carefully then placing it inside a navy blue envelope.

He added some photographs of stars and moon stickers inside the galaxy themed parcel that he designed a day ago. Amane smiled proudly to himself after tying the twine around the parcel, he also slides in some post cards inside the twine.

“You sure are taking this pen pal project seriously, Yugi.” Yamabuki looked over to his dark haired friend with his phone on hand. “I barely even put effort on mine.”

“Look at Yashiro's though,” Amane pointed at the cream haired girl with teal tips sitting in front of him. She was putting a lot of designs for her pen pal letter so that her assigned sender would think that she's a creative person that matches their own aesthetic. “Hey, Yashiro-san, who do you think will be your pen pal?”

“I hope my pen pal is a boy,” Yashiro sighed dreamily as Amane deadpanned at her being a simp for hot and tall guys. He used to like her back then until he realized that he wasn't good enough for her. “And while we're sending letters, we'll fall in love—”

“Okay that's enough delusions, Yashiro.” Amane raised his hand up to prevent her from speaking more of her fantasies. “I've heard enough of them.”

“What did you put in your letter?” Yashiro asked.

“Pretty much about myself, I added some stickers and post cards, just incase my future pen pal would like them.” Amane explained while counting his fingers. “Hopefully they would because I made a lot of effort in it.” he said while scratching his cheek.

“I heard that our letters will be sent to another school and students from our grade will be our pen pals.” Akane explained as he went towards Yamabuki. “If Ao-chan gets a pen pal that is a guy, then I guess I have to eliminate the offender—”

“Whoah chill, Aoi.” Yamabuki glanced up to the red head whose expression quickly changed with a scary one. “What's with the bat though—?”

“Sometimes your obsession scares me.” Amane raised a perfect brow at Akane while resting his cheek to the heel of his palm.

“You're the one to talk.” Akane slightly glared at the smaller male. “At least I have a love life.”

“Fair enough.” Amane grumbled under his breath, looking away from the distasteful Akane. “Wait, you two are dating—?”

Amane was interrupted by their homeroom teacher entering the class. “Good morning class, did you have your letters ready?” Sensei asked as he scratched his chin. “To those who didn't know yet, your letters will be delievered to another school. Expect a letter from your new pen pal on the next day or two.”

The dark haired boy feels his eyes slowly drooping, it's always like this, getting sleepy in the middle of class. The cause? Stargazing.

Amane, ever since he was a little boy, he loved the moon and stars. He would open his window at night and look into his telescope to admire the star studded sky. Looks like he stayed up a little too long before dawn, you can't really blame him, who wouldn't like stargazing.

His eyes can't take it anymore, he needed to snooze off, just for a moment to rest. Amane folded his arms on top of his desk and puts his head down to take a nap.

“The other world at 5:53 is beautiful.”

In a dusk turning into dark, there stood a glowing carousel, spinning in a clockwise motion that seemed like it was twisting forever. Amane wandered around the place, wondering why he standing in front of a lonely ride.

He felt his ears ring and the ground slightly shaking. Amane closed his eyes as he felt the wind blowing against him, then everything stopped.

Amane fluttered his eyes open and saw a girl wearing a different school uniform than theirs. She was around Yashiro's height, he estimated, but nonetheless he never seen this girl before.

In a blink of an eye, she disappeared.

Amane raised his head up immediately from the sleep and panted heavily. Beads of sweat came rolling down from his forehead, his chest rises and then it lowers for a second, and he couldn't breathe properly after that. ‘What was that?’ he thought, drawing his hand near his chest to calm his breathing. ‘Who was that?’

He was sure as hell that he was confused, having a dream about a glowing carousel and a girl wearing a school uniform, whom he had never seen before, whatever that dream was about, he felt goosebumps on his skin. Amane fixed himself, he probably looked like he ran in a marathon and never got to drink water after that. 

“Amane-kun, why do you keep sleeping in class?” Yashiro asked with a stern tone like she was a mother scolding her son for doing something wrong. “You shouldn’t sleep in classes anymore, okay?” she added while handing him her notebook which contains the notes that she took during the lesson.

Yashiro, as one of Amane's friends, was concerned for the boy. She was worried about him, but that doesn't mean the cream haired girl has feelings for the choppy haired guy. Like she said, she isn’t his type. “I’ll try not to sleep in class...” Amane receives the notebook from his female friend. 

“If you sleep again, I won’t lend you my notes anymore.” 

“Okay okay, I won’t sleep next time.” Amane assures her in a sweat dropped expression. “But I make no promises though---”

Yashiro snorted. “By the way---” Amane was interrupted by the school bell beckoning them to go eat their lunch. He sighed, he always gets cut off whenever he says something interesting. The teenage boy slumped his shoulders before going to the rooftop to eat his food.

All alone by himself like he usually does.

Amane was puzzled by the dream he had while he was napping during class. A carousel and a girl he had never seen before, perhaps that it was a lost memory of his or he had actually seen this girl but he doesn't remember her.

He'll figure that out on his own.

The next day felt like any other day. Amane groaned loudly, waking up from his slumber (surprisingly he actually slept) and not wanting to get up from the comfortable bed that he was laying down. He buried his face on one of the pillows. ‘I don't want to wake up, I swear to god.’

“Amane, Amane—”

“What?!” Amane shot his head up and shouted fiercely at his younger twin, Tsukasa who was standing on the door with a towel wrapped around his hips.

“Wake up, we have classes!” Tsukasa reminded him. Amane sighed and slammed his face against the pillow, he felt himself close his eyes to sleep again, until Tsukasa grabbed his face and forcefully removed his brother's face from the pillow. “WAKE UP!”

“I'm up, I'm up!” Amane removed Tsukasa's hands from his face and glared at him. “Jeez, you don't have to scream on my face.” he added while getting off the bed towards the bathroom.

Amane looked into the mirror with half lidded eyes while brushing his teeth, his dark choppy hair was disheveled with few strands of hair slightly sticking out, and his long sleeved shirt that two buttons were unbuttoned where a bit of his chest is showing.

After taking a bath, Amane wrapped a towel around his torso while drying his hair with another towel. He grabbed his uniform that was hanging on the wall and wore it in a speed.

Amane notices that Tsukasa left early which is unusual since he usually leaves early leaving his brother behind. He smiled to himself before heading on to school.

When he arrived, he saw that his classmates are crowded over to his very own desk. Amane pushed his way towards them. “What's going on?” he asked.

“Letters from the other school got recently delivered.” Yashiro answered. “Your pen pal letter is here, and I must say they're very creative.”

Amane felt intrigued all of a sudden, he went to his desk to see the pen pal letter for himself and when he did, his jaw dropped.

A navy blue parcel with constellations around the paper. It was tied by a twine and dried flowers. A smile ghosted upon Amane's lips, the pen pal knew his aesthetics and his love for stars.

He gently grabbed the parcel from his desk and examined it. To Amane's surprise, he saw a tag clipped from the twine, he reads.

[name] [surname].

The name of his new pen pal.

Amane unwrapped the parcel, there's an envelope that was sealed with wax. 'Fancy' he thought to himself as he slightly sticks out his bottom lip. Other than that, there are polaroids and moon stickers, but there is one thing that caught his eye.

A thin book.

Amane picked up the book, it was an astronomy journal that [name] made for him. 'This person must have made a lot of effort, I admire that.'

Amane opened the envelope first, inside was a neatly folded letter, he carefully unfolded it using his fingers.

Hi Amane Yugi-san,

I'm [name] [surname], your pen pal for this quarter! Well I made an astronomy journal since I saw your letter talking about yourself, hope you like it though ヾ(〃^∇^)ﾉ 

After reading the letter, a smile broke down from Amane’s visuals. His pen pal is revealed to be a girl who is a first year highschool student, like him, studying from Sanaol Academy, which is far from Kamome.

Time flew by like a shooting star in a dark blue sky, Amane went home feeling giddy to write his response to [name]. When he got to his room he immediately grabbed a lot of art materials to work on the letter.

Hello [name]-san,

Thanks for the journal, I love the contents inside of it. Anyways, I hope we'll meet someday and talk about the stars together! I have a playlist where you can listen while stargazing hehe~

Amane smiled to himself, resting his cheek to the heel of his palm while writing his letter to [name]. Maybe this pen pal project isn't going to be bad after all.

Meanwhile in [name]'s side, she was sitting on her swivel chair with a cheeky smile on her face while reading Amane's letter. The strands of her hair are falling to her hair, admiring his words.

“[name], dinner's ready!”

“Coming!” [name] grinned before going downstairs to eat dinner with her family.

“The door of my dreams unreal, you from my memories become real”

@closetweebsmh @closetwaffle

#amane yugi #amane yugi x reader #fluff #hanako x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun #anime #tbhk #yugi amane x reader #yugi amane #amane #blue hour

[zaph1337]

Monster Hunter Rating 21: Khezu, the Blank Stare

When I reviewed Basarios, I made a joke about how the devs likely gave it human teeth over sharp teeth because the latter might not give children nightmares, but I don’t actually think that the devs ever intended Basarios to be more terrifying than any other monster in the game. This monster, however, is literally the stuff of nightmares, and I’m not misusing “literally” here. This may be the longest review I’ve written yet, so buckle up. Time to get spooky with Khezu!

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 1)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter Rise)

Appearance: I think there’s been a mistake here; last I checked, Capcom wasn’t making Silent Hill games. Seriously, this thing would fit right into that series, and not just ‘cause its phallic neck lends itself well to metaphors. The pale, veiny skin, the leech-like mouth, the complete lack of eyes...Khezu’s unlike any other monster in the series because it’s the only monster that’s meant to be horrifying to look at. It’s got flabby, tattered wings and gecko-like feet, but its main characteristic (other than the head) is its tail, the tip of which can open up into a suction cup that allows Khezu to stick to ceilings.

Obviously, Khezu’s an abomination that came from a really dark place in someone’s mind, but that’s just it: Khezu is a monster that appeared in an MH developer’s nightmare either before or during the production of the first Monster Hunter game, and said developer (I don’t actually remember who) decided to put it in the game. I learned of this from the Twitch streams of a streamer called DuncanCan’tDie, who’s a huge MH fan that’s on great terms with Capcom. Unfortunately, I can’t find any other sources for this claim, but I don’t think he’s lying for a few reasons; firstly, like I said, he’s on great terms with Capcom. He’s friends with some people who work there, and he even has a tattoo designed by someone on the MH team he called “Kaname-san” (who didn’t actually give him the tattoo, but drew the design that a tattoo artist used) and the only person who could go by that name is Kaname Fujioka, the man who literally directed several MH games, including the first one, and who was the art director for Monster Hunter World. So yeah. Duncan and Capcom get along great, and if he was spreading false rumors, they’d probably know about it.

The second reason I believe Duncan about Khezu’s origin is that someone once came into one of his streams (and I was there at the time) and started spouting “lore” about two monsters that looked like they could be related, but actually weren’t. Duncan flat out told this person that what they were claiming wasn’t mentioned anywhere and asked for sources...which the loregiver did not provide. In fact, after Duncan started getting on their case, I don’t think they said a word for the rest of the stream. Duncan believes that this person was just making stuff up to sound like they knew a lot about MH and weren’t aware that he was an MH expert, and I doubt that someone who would call someone out on that would do the same thing, especially if he had a reputation to uphold.

I apologize if I spent a lot of time talking about that, but I didn’t want people getting on my case because they couldn’t find anything to support my claims. But in conclusion, I believe that Khezu truly was born of a nightmare, and that’s awesome. It makes the Silent Hill comparison even more fitting since the enemies in those games are basically projections of the protagonists’ psyches. Disturbing enemies are much more effective if they scare(d) the people who created them, and Khezu is certainly disturbing. Because of that, as well as its ominous origin, I’m giving it a 9/10.

Behavior: Khezu mostly inhabit caves, jungles, and swamps due to the need for their skin to be moisturized, though they usually only leave caves to hunt, which they don’t have to do very often due to the plentiful fat beneath their skin, which also keeps them warm. Their favorite hunting strategy is to ambush their prey from a location usually concealed by darkness, which is made easier by their extendable necks. However, their reliance on darkness, as well as their preference to dwell in caves, has made them completely blind and reliant on their other senses; despite not having visible nostrils or ears, Khezu have great hearing and a very good sense of smell. Back to hunting, while they need to subdue larger prey, smaller ones, like Kelbi, are slowly swallowed whole...which is apparently something you can actually witness in the games, according to TV Tropes (I normally stick to the wiki and what I already know for resources, but I went to the “Monster Hunter / Nightmare Fuel” page while searching for another source for Khezu’s origin as a nightmare). As if this thing needed to be more disturbing, it doesn’t always kill its prey before it tries to swallow it, so the Kelbi you can see it eat is constantly struggling as the Khezu swallows it bottom-first. That’s...that’s messed up. But it gets worse.

Practically every monster in this series isn’t any more intelligent than what we consider a normal animal to be. Aside from Lynians, which are people, the smartest monster I’ve talked about is the Velociprey, which might not be as smart as, say, an irl crow, which is very intelligent by the standards of nonhuman animals. What I’m getting at here is that most of the monsters in this series don’t really take any sadistic pleasure in killing and eating prey; they just do it to survive. But Khezu is different. In several MH games, including Rise, the first time you go on a quest to kill a specific monster, the gameplay is preceded by a cutscene that shows off how powerful or intimidating that monster is (and in Rise’s case, you also get a poem). Here’s Khezu’s intro, and I want you to pay attention to what Khezu does from 0:24-0:30:

That’s right: this thing “looked” right at the monster it was going to eat, and smiled. That isn’t just me anthropomorphizing it, either; I’ve seen what Khezu looks like outside of that cutscene, and even with its mouth closed it has a neutral expression, so it smiling actually means something, and considering the context, it’s obvious what the devs wanted us to take from it: Khezu likes killing. It enjoyed the prospect of swallowing that monster whole while it was still alive and struggling, which means that this is the first monster I’ve talked about that we can definitively say is evil rather than just an animal. Rather fitting for a living nightmare, I would say. And if you thought all that was disturbing, I have some...unfortunate news. I hope you aren’t eating anything right now, ‘cause this next part is just gross.

Y’know how some wasps lay their eggs inside other bugs so the eggs have incubation they can eat when they hatch? Well, uh...Khezu do that, too. And they’re hermaphrodites that, from what I can gather, don’t need to mate, so any adult Khezu is capable of injecting another monster with its “whelps” (not saying that Khezu are always “pregnant,” just saying that any of them can be). And you know the really crazy part? After everything I said about Khezu, there are still people in the MH world that tame them and keep them as pets. Why would you want to have a slimy, flabby, sadistic, parasitoid, 14-to-40-foot abomination as a pet!? God, people are so freaking weird.

EDIT (05/07/2021): My older brother reminded me that I forgot about one of the odder aspects of Khezu; when you enter a fight with a Main Monster, its battle theme plays (don’t know if every monster has a unique theme, but several do, to my knowledge), but Khezu has no theme to speak of. I don’t know if this is true in every game, or even if it was intentional at first, but it’s still both funny and eerie at the same time. There’s no background music until you get in a fight, so if you somehow tick off a Khezu without seeing it, then it can sneak up on you. “But Zaph, the moment a monster enters ‘fight mode,’ it roars! So the Khezu will give away its position!” See, you’d be right about that if it wasn’t for the fact that, according to TV Tropes at least, Khezu’s roar sounds just like wind--howling wind, yes, but wind all the same. I don’t know if there’s any howling wind SFX in the areas where Khezu live, so for all I know you’ll still be able to identify it in a hurry, but just imagine what that’s like in-universe! Imagine that you’re walking around in the Frost Islands or something and hear a chilling wind from out of nowhere. Unless you’re an experienced hunter, you’d likely have no idea if that was a Khezu or not, so you wouldn’t know if it’s too late to run or not, or even if you should run at all. Going back out of universe, the details I just described are very nice touches to a monster that was already horrifying in behavior, so I’m bumping the score here up from the 7 I initially gave it to 8/10.

Abilities: All of the “Flying Wyverns” I’ve talked about so far have had a lot of trouble with the whole “flying” part, and Khezu are no exception; they’re better at it than Diablos and Gravios, but they still need to flap really frantically to stay in the air. They’re great at jumping, though, and their gecko-like feet allow them to scale walls and stick to ceilings, something that their tails also allow them to do. Khezu are Thunder-element monsters capable of discharging electricity in a manner of ways, including shooting balls of it from their mouths and emitting it all around their bodies. Since Khezu like to spend time around water, their attacks are even more dangerous, as everything near them will likely be wet and therefore more conductive. This also applies to Khezu themselves, which may be why they stick their tails onto the ground before discharging electricity; they ground themselves so that they don’t shock themselves. Finally, Khezu saliva is very dangerous; we don’t know if it’s electric or acidic, but anything that gives off smoke when it touches something probably isn’t good for your health, which is why owning a pet Khezu is so dangerous; their drool can literally kill you. 7/10.

Equipment: Most Khezu weapons are as interesting as you’d expect them to be, considering the monster they’re made from. Most of them have a horror aesthetic, like this Great Sword called the Khezu Shock Sword:

I just noticed that the skin is actually stretched over the blade, rather than being what the blade’s attached to. Gross, but I never expected Khezu weapons to look pretty. There are also weapons which emphasize the monster’s electric aspect, like this Gunlance called the Full Voltage:

It still has Silent Hill vibes due to its “rusty hospital” aesthetic, and looking at it long enough reveals little details it inherited from Khezu. Speaking of hospitals, there are a couple of weapons based off of syringes, such as the Khezu Syringe, which is a Light Bowgun, and a Lance from MHFG that’s literally a giant hypodermic needle, but I didn’t want to show those off in case they triggered anyone with needle phobia. The last weapon I’m gonna show will be very familiar to those of us who’ve played the Rise demo a lot: the Insect Glaive known as the Bolt Chamber!

I like the green tube running from the sac between the blade and the shaft of the glaive; according to the Bolt Chamber’s in-game description, it uses that “pulsating device” to steal energy from its targets. If you mentioned that to me before I grabbed its image for this review, I probably would have asked how it did that. If you then pointed out the mouth at the glaive’s end, I would have thanked you for cursing me with the knowledge of its existence. Seriously, I’ve used this thing probably more than 20 times, and until I saw this render, I never noticed that. As for the armor, here’s the Blademaster Khezu Armor from MHGU:

The male armor here is almost identical to the one from Rise--which sadly doesn’t have any pictures on the wiki yet--and yes, it does look like the main character from Assassin’s Creed. The female armor, on the other hand, looks almost like a nurse’s outfit, especially with that metal thing on the woman’s head with the cross. The more I look at this equipment, the more I feel like they wanted people to think of Silent Hill, and if so, that’s pretty cool. I’ve got another armor set to show you; the Gunner version of the Khezu R Armor from MHGU:

Jesus, is this an armor set or a medical emergency? I can’t imagine bandages are very effective at protecting your body from physical damage, but thankfully it looks like most of them are just covering actual armor...meaning that the people who designed this stuff in-universe wanted the people wearing it to look like they were in an accident. Not sure I get why, but I’m not here to--actually, I am here to judge, so never mind; it’s gross. Also the female set has Khezu mouths as arm coverings, which is someone’s fetish, I’m sure. The equipment as a whole is macabrely interesting (TIL that macabrely is a real word) and calls to mind a fascinating horror game franchise, so 8/10.

Final Thoughts and Tally: I figured that Khezu was gonna be interesting, but I didn’t know how far the devs would take the horror theming. Everything about this monster is creepy; it looks disturbing, it acts even worse, and its equipment makes me feel like I need a tetanus shot just from looking at it. But that’s not at all a bad thing...unless you’re really squeamish, in which case you were likely cringing this whole review. I’d apologize, but you made the choice to stick through ‘till the end. 8/10.

#monster hunter #monster hunter rating #monster hunter rise #zaph1337