#i like doing this but at the same time a little voice in my brain is going fuck!!!! i hate that there's no places for anything!!! there use

[vagabond-umlaut]

toasty

sometimes, it isn't just the weather which is comfortably warm. sometimes, it can be one person, because of another person, as well.

gojo satoru x fem!reader; pre-relationship; gojo is a menace; you're a miniature circuit breaker; gojo calls you 'cookie'; mentions of food; i repeat: gojo is a MENACE; 610 wc; *empties a big container labelled 'fluff' into this fic*

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be treated as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

divider by @/benkeibear; pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this; jjk isn't mine

"do you like that dress?"

you shouldn't look this surprised, no. hell no.

you know gojo's been sitting beside you for the better part of the last fifteen minutes. and you know he has a rather sharp set of eyes, with or without his 'six eyes' activated— yet you do look surprised. terribly so— and the man wonders, what made you think he would not notice you staring at the bright piece of cloth in the shop window.

particularly when you've left your favourite ice cream on the brink of melting and falling on your uniform— not that it'll make it any dirtier though; the curses from before have done a splendid job of it...

stealing a bite from your cone, gojo plops back into his seat. the grin threatening to bloom on his lips wilts when he sees the surprise turn into something shocked, maybe even scandalised in your features— eyes wider, brows higher, lower jaw hanging lower...

he lets the grin form anyway. "what? your ice cream was melting— i cannot let the money i spent to buy it, go to waste now, can i?"

you snap your mouth close in less than an instant. then open it again to take quite a large bite from your ice cream, brows scrunching and eyes screwing close— the brain freeze gojo was in wait for, for you to suffer from, never comes.

you take a second bite, even bigger.

some part of him shrivels, disappointed— before it swells up again, at the narrowed-eye look you send his way— before it dries up a second time, when your gaze returns to the dress from before.

the fabric looks extremely dull to the sorcerer now. he kicks your leg under the table. biting back a grin when you look back at him, lips in an annoyed little frown.

although it doesn't take too long to become a smile. tired, yes. but a fond one all the same— you've always been too soft to him, haven't you?

he repeats his ask, "do you like that dress?"

"i..." your gaze drops to your ice cream for a beat. then rises. a warmth settles into your cheeks, visible and adorable. "i kind of like that dress. it looks pretty." a beat. your lips part in a tentative smile. "what do you think, gojo-san? will i look good in it?"

the addressed man pauses.

but it is not because he has to decide on an answer— the answer is a yes. a resounding yes— still, he doesn't find the voice to say the word, the monosyllable repeated over and over and over again in his brain—

"you always look beautiful to me, cookie. no matter what you wear."

the shocked, scandalised expression makes a return to your face, not a moment later than when the words leave his mouth.

only to be shoved away when you attempt to take such a huge bite of your melting ice cream, the chocolate chip treat ends up caking a big portion of the lower half of your face— from your nose and extending till your chin.

gojo doesn't bother to hold back his laughter this time— its loudness increasing at the resulting wrinkle in your nose when he reaches over to scoop up a bit of the mess with his fingers, then licks it off them—

"you're a disgusting man," you mutter, voice so mortified and frail as your gaze keeps jumping from his hand to his blindfolded eyes.

something curls up inside the sorcerer. the sensation growing worse, growing better, the longer he stares at this precious little face you've made:

"and you're a cookie— my choco chip cookie!"

the reader is an mcb— reasons for which, i hope, u all hv understood by now 🤭🤭

masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #kit posts 📝

[j4ygyu]

🫐 - jake! maybe about reader having some hardships during her pregnancy but baby daddy jake would be ready to do anything for her comfort !!

rejecting his kisses | sjy

pairing: husband!jake x wife!reader

genre: fluff bro what else i write 😭😭

synopsis: reader is growing sensitive day by day to touches and snaps at jake, jake being a mature husband handles the situation well.

everything felt so much more overwhelming, jake kept a family dinner and everyone was over, his members and his family. 

“how are my babies doing?” jake said as he nuzzled his nose in your neck as you moved back in annoyance. 

oh he noticed it but shrugged it off, maybe it was just a silly reaction right?

the sound of everyone talking at the same time in their own conversation rings around in your ears making it hard for you to keep up with everything jake had his hands on you the whole day, hugging you from behind, talking to his friends and family with a hand on your bump, rubbing your nose agaisnt his, kissing your cheeks, lips and forehead. yeah sounds cute but not when you’re feeling everything a little too much. 

what is going on. 

it was so bad that you had to shut your room door so loud and settle on the bed, 

there you were, pregnant and finally on your thrid trimester with your annoying husband being extra touchy anywhere he could find you at.

rubbing your temples you sat on the bed, grabbed the water from the beside table and starting chugging it down. 

meanwhile, jake who already spotted your absensce in the living room came in “bub?” you heard his voice and your brain gave a reaction not again. 

he walks in as you don’t even dare to look at him in the eye, your eyes closed as you take deep breath. 

“did i do something” he leans over to your face while staring deep “no..” u say as he hums in question he sits beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder “are you oka-“ you cut him off,

“no- just no- please okay? please just get your hands off of me please jake. stay away from me i am not feeling all your touches just leave me the fuck alone.” you say raising your voice. 

the next thing you see is tears in jake’s eyes as he looks away from you trying to hold them in. 

“i am sorry.” 

a moment of complete silence goes by as you rest your head on the headboard.

you notice him avoiding your looks and turning to the other side, hesitant to ask you if you need anything again.

“did i do something wrong?” he asks out of curiosity “i won’t touch you if—“

“no i dont know.. i am sorry i dont feel like getting touched i dont know.. i don’t know why i am being like this i don’t know” as you’re saying he turns around and comes closer to you.

attentively listening as he brings a hand to tug your hair strand back.

“hey no no it’s fine, its completely fine yeah, this is super normal for pregnant women to feel..” he says as tears start spilling from your eyes because of how understanding he is. 

jake has always put your perspective before his, always understanding everything you did, always finding a reason for your actions and letting you express yourself, god you think what did you do to deserve him. 

“b-but jake” you say as he holds your face in his hands and squishes your cheeks trying to calm you down.

“at this stage you’ve grown more sensitive. to touches to words to noises to everything” he says bringing his hands back to himself, “isn’t it?” 

you nod in agreement as he adds “so don’t ever blame yourself about all this okay? i love you just how it is. nothing will ever change that” 

you look at him and take his hand and place it on your belly, he makes sure to keep it exactly where you kept and not rub it because of muscle memory 

he pauses and lets out a little laugh as he feels the baby kicking where his arm is placed “just try not to be as aggressive as you were okay?” you nod once again as he kisses your cheeks wiping your tears off his lips. 

“baby doesn’t like hearing mum and dad argue does it?” he says as he feels another kick to his palm as you both laugh out of surprise. 

it makes you giggle, mood swings are crazy.

#enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen #sim jaeyun #enha #enhypen scenarios #jake #enhypen jake #jake sim #jake enhypen #jake x reader #jake fluff #enhypen soft hours

[drdemonprince]

Can you offer any (academic) writing advice for Autistics and ADHDers? You clearly write a lot and write very well and very clearly, so some insight into your process would be great. Personally, I tend to struggle with over explaining or over citing (cause I am always getting misunderstood) and that I get very fixated on not misrepresenting what my sources are saying to avoid feeling like I'm lying. All this is time consuming and makes it hard to say what I really want to say. Thanks!

Hi there! I've written an essay about a lot of this, here is the free link to read it on Medium:

Much of my writing process is inspired by the book How to Write a Lot by Paul Silvia, and it is specifically tailored to academics. The advice applies to people who write popular nonfiction or fiction just as easily, however. And he does have advice relevant to the self-editing and self-doubt you describe feeling.

The full piece gets into this more, but here are some of the stand-out tips:

Schedule a regular time to write every week and show up no matter whether you are feeling it or not.

Throw out all your magical thinking about what you "need" to be able to write. You don't need the perfect workspace, divine inspiration, the right pen, the right playlist. You just need to show up to write regularly, and do it

Editing, outlining, working with research notes, and drafting all count as "writing." Don't expect your initial drafts to be perfect or to equate writing only with getting new words on the page.

Try writing in public spaces to help get yourself in the mindset of explaining a concept to someone with a different frame of reference and type of expertise than you. Writing in a cafe or a public library can force you think and write in a more accessible way. (alternatively, you can pretend you are explaining the concept to a specific person in your life who you respect but who doesnt have all the same reference points as you -- sometimes this is called the "Grandma Test". Explain something like you are talking to your grandma.)

In addition to all this, I would add that you should read a lot of writing, both good and bad, especially work that isn't dry and academic. If all you read is journal articles, you'll write a journal article -- and most of those are hell to read, even for academics. read fiction. read bad wattsapp shipping. read substacks. read newspapers. read indulgent personal nonfiction in the cut or whatever. read reddit posts. notice what works and what doesn't. develop an ear.

and then write a lot! it took me 15 years to get good enough for anything i wrote to get noticed. you can expect to take many years to get comfortable developing your own voice, too. i dont know how far along you are, but even when you've made tremendous progress you'll only notice your flaws and feel the most turgid brain foggy moments. that doesn't mean you're failing.

also, to some extent you can embrace your citation-dense, precise manner of self-expression. we are living in a moment of maximalism and indulgent, long creative works. it's the decade of the 5 hour youtube essay and the 2 hour album. my 5,000 word essays do better than my 2,000 word ones. you should strip down unnecessary tangents and trust yourself and your reader a little more probably, but ive found that the more blatantly autistic and indulgent my writing gets the more the right people like it. a writer's flaws and their distinctive voice are kinda hard to separate. you're not for everyone!

good luck!

[telvess]

Pizza delivery girl

higuruma hiromi x reader fic, a bit of smut content (nothing extreme, only kissing, touching and inappropriate dialogues). 🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

wc: 3,390

Big thanks to my @teatreeoilll for correct spelling and supporting me the entire time. You're the best 💕 This fic would never have been written without you!

He doesn’t even like pizza.

And yet every time he has to do overtime in the dull room he calls an office, all while working cases and overwhelming his mind to the point where he just wants to see the bed, he finds himself thinking of you - the pizza delivery girl - and wondering if he should order another damn pizza. You slip to his mind unannounced once the tiredness takes over and his brain needs stimulation.

Higuruma Hiromi never took himself for a daydreamer, but here he is - imagining scenarios that will never happen with a woman he barely knows.

Ding dong!

Hiromi feels his co-workers' eyes on him when he gets up from his desk, their gazes follow him all the way to the door. As he walks there’s a new spring in his step. It's that time of day.

He opens the door and sees you, the woman who rules his irrational side. You smile at him, freckles clear on your fair skin.

“We meet again,” Hiromi welcomes you, looking at your peach colored hoodie with a print on it that he assumes is the cover of some band’s album.

“I’m starting to think that there’s hidden reason you order from the same place almost every day,” you point out with a smirk. Hiromi likes the way your voice changed over the last few meetings - how it became partly coy and… seductive.

“Well, I'm starting to wonder what are the odds that you're always the one who delivers my orders,” he bites back.

Your smile deepens and with slight shrug you mutter, “Touché.” You hand him over the pizza. “But don’t jump to conclusions. I’m just worried about you”— and your voice lowers to a whisper as you lean closer—“a little birdie told me you’re living here, Higuruma-san.”

Hiromi enjoys the softness in your voice, but for the love of God, don't use this tone when you say his name. You straighten up with a contented smile when you notice him swallow.

“You’re looking more tired every day,” you admit.

It’s not that you're innocent in all this.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” As you nod the brown hair in your pigtail sways.

“You should take care of yourself before helping others.”

“Tough case,” he tries to shrug it off.

“Yeah, I heard.” Hiromi looks up to see genuine concern in your eyes. Before he can ask, you continue, “I read the papers. You did good job.”

Hiromi wants to say the case it’s far from over, but instead he decides not to; he accepts the compliment with a nod.

“Work goes better on a full stomach,” he says, raising the pizza box to light up the mood. You snort and bite your lower lip.

“Well I’m sure it could go even better if you relieved the pressure here and there.” You massage your shoulders and move them as if you were exhausted. You catch Hiromi a bit off guard with that.

“Well, I”—He rubs his hand over his two-day stubble—“Heh…” He smiles and can’t force himself to look you into eyes, feeling annoying heat spreading over his cheeks.

“No comeback, huh?” He hears you barely holding your laugher. Soon both of you laugh, more or less openly. For a moment Hiromi forgets he's at his office. The burden that weighed upon his mind lately suddenly becomes bearable.

“You know, I was wondering…” He scratches his cheek with a finger. His head is still full of doubts, but the timing feels so right that Hiromi gives in spontaneous impulse.

“About what?” you tilt your head.

“I—” “Excuse me, is this the defense attorney’s office?”

That’s not the right question.

For split of a second Hiromi doesn’t register the man appearing by your side. Then he notices a patch on the man's jacket with the symbol of the courier company.

“Yes, it is,” you say.

“Mr. Higuruma Hiromi?” The man asks and Hiromi confirms with a nod. His eyes are still on you, observing how you smile with what he hopes is some sort of disappointment. You shrug, then wave at him and finally turn away.

Hiromi watches over man’s shoulder how you go down the stairs. One last peek at your ass before the disappointment in his chest slowly builds up. He takes the package, closes the doors and comes back to his desk, too pensive to feel his co-worker's eyes on himself.

“Oh enough already!” Hiromi flinches at the woman's voice. It doesn’t happen often for her to be this angry, especially not at him and not about matters that aren’t work related.

“Why won’t you ask her out already?” She asks, crossing her hands over her chest.

If there’s one thing that Hiromi is grateful for, it’s definitely the ability to keep his cool in stressful situations. Professional habit.

“Why would I?” His voice is drier than when he was thanking the courier for his service.

His co-worker takes a deep breath, then asserts, “Because every time she turns her back you stare at her ass with those sad puppy eyes of yours.”

Is this how criminals feel when they speak to him through the glass windows in the visiting room? Because he definitely feels like one of them caught red-handed.

“There are no puppy eyes. And besides,” he pauses, lacking a counter-argument, “I don’t stare.” It takes one long skeptical gaze to break his façade. “Fine. But I wouldn’t call it staring.”

The co-worker raises her brows.

“Then how would you call it?”

“Admiring?” he mumbles, hoping she doesn’t hear it. His co-worker chuckles from behind her desk. He sighs as he looks at her, and puts the package and pizza box on his desk.

“I don’t think she would decline though.” It was naive of him to assume the conversation was over.

“Don't you have work to do?” He tries to separate himself from her by breaking the line of sight with a book. His tie starts to irritate him, but loosening it up means giving more opening to his co-worker so he lets it choke him.

He hears how her heels knock on the floor as she comes to his desk and lean over to reach the pizza box.

“It’s very unusual to see you like this. I’ve always thought you were a robot when it comes to your personal life,” she takes a piece of margarita.

Hiromi raises eyebrows. The book in his hands drops down.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

She shrugs.

“You know… very, hmm… economical?”

“Nice save,” he mumbles.

Economical was the last word Hiromi would have used describing his personal life. Not after wasting so much money for a food he never eats.

“So, are you going to ask her out?”

“No,” he says but sounds very disappointed. Damn courier.

“Why not?” She frown.

“It’s complicated—”

“Rubbish! You could sell me that crap at the beginning when the both of you were acting like teenagers. Now”— she snorts—“you basically flirt like normal people do on the third date!” she waves her hands, as if trying to convince an invisible witness. “Except you never went out once and it seems that the two of you would rather die than change that…”

His co-worker takes a bite and looks at him, but this time Hiromi’s facade doesn’t break that easy. He only shrugs.

“Ugh! What’s the matter with you?” she snaps at him. “Have made it a mission to complicate everything in your life?”

“Guilty,” he admits without a blink. There’s no point in denying this. “And you can’t do anything about it. We aren’t at court.”

Hiromi watches as she chew in silence.

“You can have all of it.” He moves the box towards her.

“I know,” she answers. “It isn’t the pizza that’s on your mind.” She takes the box and walks back to her desk. Hiromi knows what she's about to say before she opens her mouth, “But with that attitude you never gonna taste that in your lifespan.”

How vulgar…

Hiromi sits on the couch in his dull living room, with a glass in one hand and a remote in another. He flips through channels, staring at the TV without a hint of interest. When exactly did he become the person who comes back to home and has absolutely no idea what to do with himself? Everything feels like an empty time filler at this point.

Click, click, click…

Hiromi maintains a fast pace, his eyes on the screen, but mind barely present. Drama show, reality talk, an okonomiyaki advertisment… “Our national pizza!” Says a lady with her mouth full. Not the best marketing gimmick, he thinks. But yeah… He could go for a pizza. Today someone has interrupted his little tête-à-tête with you, but maybe it isn’t too late to fix it?

Before he can think it through, his hand reaches for the phone and opens the food app on its own. The pizzeria you work at is marked with a star as the only one in his favorites. Hiromi chooses a margarita, pays in advance, and hopes that your boss has forced you to work overtime today.

And then… what remains to be done? Just wait. But this time sitting in his dull living room doesn’t feel awfully boring. Hiromi finally finds a comfortable spot on his couch. He leans back and puts his feet up on the table, feeling strangely relaxed. As if he has found the missing piece of the puzzle. The advertising marathon has finishes and he watches the beginning of unknown romantic comedy. A pleasant drowsiness slowly befuddles him…

Knock knock!

Oh? Is it already time?

Hiromi gets up from the couch, his body feels dizzy at first but with each step towards the doors it gets more and more tense. Dozens of thoughts run through his head as his hand reaches for the door handle. Will that be you? What should he say? He haven’t thought of any opening line… Now, that’s the lawyer everybody needs, right?

Very slowly he presses down onto the handle and opens the door.

“Hello, your pizza- Oh! Hi, Higuruma-san! What a surprise!” Your expression changes from weary to genuinely happy; Hiromi feels your smile deep in his chest. “So you don’t really live in your office, huh?” You try to take a peek over his shoulder.

“I have to come here from time to time. Otherwise they will start imposing rent at my workplace,” he answers, shrugging.

Your whole chest trembles as you laugh, you have the same hoodie you had afternoon with faces of some band on it. Hiromi catches himself at staring for too long at your chest. It draws your attention.

“Do you like this band?” you ask, pulling the hoodie to stretch the fabric, which reveals a bit of your neckline.

Hiromi finally raises his eyes to meet yours.

“I don’t know them,” he says honestly and, given the cheerfulness in your eyes, you seem to be content with this answer.

“Ah, I see,” you slowly nod. “That’s not what interested you.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?”

He doesn’t feel too embarrassed when you smile like this at him. Maybe his sad puppy eyes come in handy…

“Now that I caught you red-handed I won’t feel bad telling you something like this -” You smirked, “Don’t be upset, but you don’t look like a guy who likes pizza.”

You would think, huh?

“That’s a bit judgmental,” Hiromi says with unusual sensitivity in his voice that immediately puts you in defensive mode.

“Oh, no! I’m sorry!” You raise your hand in apologetic gesture. “It’s just”—you eye him up and down—“I don’t know, I guess it’s the suit. It makes you look…”

“Pompous?” he slips watching you struggle to find the right word.

“No!” you quickly deny. Too quickly. “I mean… well, kinda.” You gave up.

“Ouch.”

Hiromi has never heard you giggle before, but he could definitely get used to it. He couldn’t explain the phenomenon that makes him seek for your reaction - any reactions, really - but the idea of closing the doors right now and not getting more out of you seemed awful.

“Do you ever take it off?” you ask pointing at his loosened tie and wrinkled dress shirt.

I could for you, he thinks to his own surprise.

“Well, I was waiting for the pizza,” he reminds.

“Right. Can’t collect your order in pyjamas.” And you laugh again, which causes a rush of heat in his belly and bellow. Cursed thoughts suddenly take him to very inappropriate places where you tell him about the band printed on your hoodie as you take it off. He wonders what color of bra you wear. The white one would suit you - in his modest opinion.

“You weren’t wrong though.” He breaks himself out of the trance. “I don’t like pizza." After all the orders he made for the past few weeks.

You blink at his words, definitely not as surprised as he thought you were going to be. In fact, your reaction tells him that you knew and have played along this entire time.

“Then why did you order so many of them?” you ask, a soft smile forming on your lips.

“I was ordering you,” he finds himself saying. The moment the first word left his lips, Hiromi felt in his guts it was a bad idea, but the rest of the sentence left his lips anyway, leaving sweet-sour flavor on the top of his tongue.

He watches your eyes widen for a second, and your lips part - then close - then open again as you try to say something back, but your mind can’t find the right words.

Well, this is it then…

A lonely “oh” slips quietly out of your mouth.

Oh?

“Well, you are my last stop today.” Your rosy cheeks rise up as you smile. “Why don’t you invite me in?”

For a moment the world stops.

“Are you sure?” The lower parts of Hiromi call him an idiot, but the lower parts have never been in charge. Biting his tongue wasn’t an option.

Sudden embarrassment takes over as you look sideways and as both of you wonder about the simple “should I or should I not?” You smile and Hiromi smiles as well.

“Do you think my boss can sue me once he finds out that I’ve made him lose a regular customer?” You break the silence. Hiromi watches at the corners of your lips twitch, then raises his eyes at yours.

“Why do you assume I won’t order any more pizza in the future?” You shrug.

“Why would you if you can just call me instead?”

“So you can have nice break at work,” he answers. This is enough to make you burst out laughing.

“I see you've thought everything through carefully.”

“I only try to keep you here as long as I can.”

You make a step towards him, standing on the threshold. Much, much, much closer than usually. Hiromi could smell your perfume, but he mostly focuses on the soft smile you give him.

“Well, can’t deny it isn’t working. Lemme in,” you whisper, fidgeting with the collar of his dress shirt as you speak.

Once Hiromi opens the doors wide for you to come in and you cross the threshold, letting the pizza box fall on the ground, making you giggle again. Hiromi presses you against the doors, his hands finally on your waists, fingers tightened to feel you under the fabric of hoodie.

You are the one who closes the gap between your lips. Your smell stupefies Hiromi as you kiss him without hesitation, shamelessly penetrating his mouth with your tongue. Your fingers slide right under his collar, slowly moving around his nape, tickling his skin and sending shivers down his spine. Hiromi feels dizzy from the excess of stimuli.

“Tell me about this band,” he says once you two break away to catch a breath.

“I know only one song…” you mutter, too focused on undoing buttons of his dress shirt to give the song name. “It was an accident. I spotted the hoodie on the sale. L—Liked the color. Later found out it’s them,” you babble.

The feeling of your fingers exploring his bare chest and belly is blend of disconcerting relief and irritation. He waited for this moment for so long that now, when he finally has you, the touch of fingers isn’t enough to meet his expectations.

You place a kiss on his chin but before you can reach higher, Hiromi’s mouth is on your neck. One hand wraps around your waists, pulling you closer to him, yet still not close enough in his opinion. He wishes he could absorb you. He wants to feel the heat coming from your skin and your heartbeat quickening.

The other hand finds your buttcheek and squeezes it hard. The moan that escapes your lips is like long-awaited music in his ear. Hiromi can’t help himself and bites your earlobe to get more reactions out of you. And when that stops being enough, he starts sucking your neck and giving you hickeys while his hands roam freely all over your body, finding their way under the hoodie.

Considering how your fingers have made big mess out of his haircut and how now they dig deep into his shoulders, he assumes he's doing a good job so far.

“These damn legs of yours,” he mumbles into your ear while lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around him.

Hiromi carries you to the couch where he takes off your hoodie together with the work uniform underneath it. Your sports bra is black, and nicely molds itself to your breasts. He can see your perky nipples through the fabric at which his erection grows larger.

You pull him towards you by tugging on his tie. Very soon your bra ends up on the floor as well when Hiromi places himself above you. The way he cups his hands around your breasts, squeezing your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, puts your dirty needs to another level.

“I’ve been waited for so long to feel them,” Hiromi whispers right before your face, a hair's length away from touching your lips. His voice is so quiet you have a problem hearing him. “You’re blushing,” he notices, making you look away and mutter an embarrassed “shatap”.

“Better hurry up and suck them,” you pout at him, you have hard time talking at this point, your throat dry and voice distorted by hoarseness.

Hiromi’s smirk gets bigger.

“It’s nice to know you want it as bad as I do,” he says before leaning over.

DING DONG.

Hiromi opens his eyes. At first he doesn’t even recognize his own apartment, the view from the couch is downright unrealistic. With his swollen eyes he looks for any sign of yours presence, because even if he knows you weren’t here, his mind doesn’t want to give up. Not yet. He can’t help it, his professional tendency to hope for the best and be ready for the worst speaks through him.

But the longer he stares at his empty apartment and the longer he can’t find any part of the clothes that he just took off of you, the more and more the disappointing reality seeps through his mind.

Ding dong…

Oh, right - the doorbell. He looks at the door, then at the bulge in his pants, sighing at the bitter unfinished business. What one pizza delivery girl can do to a man who doesn’t even like pizza…

He slowly gets up, massaging his sore nape that the couch header have gave him as he approaches the door. A doubtful thought on the back on his head whispers to him that he may see you behind it - with your high-tied ponytail, a hoodie and unearthly legs - and that his dream have been prelude to the main event.

Hiromi opens the door and sees the most average looking stranger.

Yeah, he thinks, taking the pizza and mumbling thanks, life isn’t that pretty, is it? He doesn't think about covering himself or even feel embarrassed about it. There’s just pure disappointed in his heart and an annoying tightness in his boxers.

He closes the door. What a shame it wasn’t you.

there is a possibility that a second part will be written. thanks for reading!

#jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #jjk higuruma #jjk hiromi #jjk higuruma x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #higuruma x reader #hiromi higuruma

[tangerinesgirl]

Pull Some Strings

Fem!Reader x Frank/Adam Barrett (Abigail)

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: 18+, explicit

Warnings: smut, denied orgasm, GodComplex!Frank, JOI, degradion, Frank swearing a lot (as usual), pet names, vaguely non con if you squint bc mind control

Summary: You've been flirting with Frank the entire evening. He tests his new vampire powers and turns you into his puppet. Things get freaky.

Notes: this seems too good to not have been done before, I did have a search beforehand so I'm sorry if it does exist! We need more Frank smut ASAP! Also, reader has nipple piercings in this and there's use of Y/N.

You jump awake with a burning hot pain in your neck. You reach to touch the wound but you find nothing there. Memories start to play in your mind, how Frank willingly accepted the offer to be turned into a monster, while you sat on the floor helpless. You were heartbroken that he could turn into a traitor like that, after the two of you fighting so hard together, but the other part of you couldn't keep your eyes off him, seeing him covered in blood, moaning as Lambert gave him his new life. You watch in horror as he stakes Lambert through the heart, you try to grab the shelf behind you to get up, but Frank stamps on your arm, breaking it instantly. You scream as he pulls your hair, exposing your neck to him.

Frank whispers in your ear, "I'm going to make you my puppet, and we're going to have a little fun". You whimper as he pecks a little kiss on the side of your mouth, and dives his teeth into your neck. You can feel yourself getting colder, your body twitching as you loose consciousness.

*

"Y/N....you are mine"

The sound of Frank's voice lures you back awake. You're in a bedroom somewhere, but you can tell you're still in this god forsaken house. "Oh good you're awake". You look around the room instinctively trying to find the source of the voice.

"What's going on?"

"Keep up sweetheart, did you not pay attention to what happened to Sammy? Or were you too busy trying to get me to fuck your brains out?"

Your mind jumps back to how you flirted playfully with Frank the whole evening. The car ride where you were zipping your hoodie down to make your breasts pop out. When you brushed past him to open the door. The way you would look at his lips, and chew the bottom of yours every time he gave the crew orders. You found him very attractive, and the dominance was a huge turn on for you.

You sit next to him at the bar in the house, "You know, I'm very much into the hot boss scenario". Your hand brushes against his as you reach for your drink. In a split second, Frank pins your hand to the counter and grabs your neck with the other one, "You're really going to flirt with me when we have bigger fucking problems right now?"

Everyone in the group stares at you as you go bright red from embarrassment. You decide to roll with it, liking how agitated Frank is getting at your advances. Afterall you've nothing to loose, no one will know your true name after this. You moan loudly with a "oh yes, harder daddy". Frank lets you go in disgust. He spits out a "fucking whore" under his breath. You hear him and giggle, "only for you" and blow him a kiss as he walks away.

*

Your mind snaps back to reality. "I know how you like being told what to do, and I'm curious to see if this actually fucking worked first time... So...Frank says, take off your hoodie". You immediately unzip your hoodie without a moment's thought, "What the fuck?"

"Frank says undo your bra". You do as he says, part of you is very much into him finally reciprocating what you've been putting down the whole evening, even in these circumstances.

"Frank says play with your nipples". You moan as you grab your breasts and tug gently on your nipples.

"Wait I can feel something cold...do you have piercings? That's fucking hot... Frank says undo your belt". The belt clinks to the floor, you can somehow tell that Frank is doing the same, wherever he is.

"Frank says undo your buttons". You unzip your jeans, and dip your hand in further, you can feel the wetness growing in your underwear as you try and find some kind of friction.

"Frank says stop. Frank didn't say to do that now, did he?"

You shake your head.

"Use your words"

"No"

"No what?"

"No sir"

"Good girl. Now. Frank says to circle your fucking clit. Slowly"

You moan softly, it's painful for you not to do anything else right now.

"Frank says stop"

The slow orders are making you impatient, you need more of a release, "please".

"Please what?"

"I need more"

"Then you fucking wait"

You can feel Frank playing with his cock, it pains you that you can't see, but you can feel him growing hard, the pre cum on his hands. You can even hear his subtle moans as he palms himself.

"Frank says dip your index finger into your pussy".

You sigh in relief as your hand finally enters you.

"Frank says insert another finger"

You fuck yourself open, Frank can hear the sound of your wetness and swears under his breath.

"You sound fucking soaked, the sound of my voice gets you this wet huh? Now...play with your clit".

You start to do so and Frank laughs, "Frank didn't say "Frank says" now did he?"

You cry out in agitation, "Frank please".

"Nah ah, what do you call me?"

"Sorry, sir"

"That's better baby. Frank says touch your clit"

You can feel yourself getting closer, Frank can too. "I'm going to cum Fr-sir, please can I cum?".

"Frank says stop"

"No!" You whimper as you pull your hands out of you. Denying you of your orgasm makes Frank's come quicker, the power over you as well as being a newly turned vampire makes him feel like a God. He takes off his shirt as he starts to cum on his chest. You can feel the hot liquid on your chest too. Your hands feel around but there's nothing there. You're really pissed off, but still very much aroused. Frank moans as he continues to empty himself on his chest, it seems to last forever. As he finally comes to a stop, he lets out one last big moan. "Do you want to taste?"

Part of you wants to give him the silent treatment for the way he just used you, but you say "yes sir" like the good puppet you are.

Frank takes a finger of his cum off his chest and wipes it on his lips. He licks it up with his tongue. You can feel the taste slowly seeping into your mouth, you bite your lip and swirl your tongue around, lapping up every invisible drop. It's salty, with a hint of iron, but oddly creamy at the same time.

"I think that was a pretty successful test, wouldn't you say, Y/N?"

You finally find your backbone after Frank and his stupid voice turned it into mush, "Fuck you".

"Oh I will, right after I kill me a vampire"

#frank x reader #frank (abigail) x reader #fanfic #abigail #movie #dan stevens #adam barrett #adam barrett x reader #horror #vampire

[hbyrde36]

for @penny00dreadful

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 <-

Chapter 4: No Place Like Home

WC: 5496 | Ch 4/4 | AO3 <-

It was a surprisingly smooth landing as Steve was brought into the highest tower of the Witch’s castle through a large open window, caught in the exceptionally strong grip of the two flying monkeys who carried him there. 

Eddie had arrived the same way only a moment or two ahead of him, and was now struggling against his own guard monkey's hold, trying to get to Steve while being dragged out of one of the room’s two doors.

“It’s so kind of you both to visit me in my loneliness.” The Wicked Witch cackled, standing in the middle of the chamber next to a huge crystal ball, the image displayed within it fading before Steve could suss it out. 

“What are you gonna do with Eddie? Where are they taking him?!” Now that his feet were on solid ground, Steve tried to fight back, but couldn’t seem to shake his captors.

The Witch waved a dismissive hand. “Never you mind about that.”

“Give him back to me!” Steve raged.

“Certainly, certainly, as soon as you give me those slippers.”

Steve swallowed hard, hesitating. He knew what Eddie would probably say, that it was a terrible idea to give her even more power—to give her what she wanted. 

At his silence, she turned, addressing a few more of her little monsters that were waiting on standby around the room. “Very well. Boys?”

The flying monkey’s ears perked up. 

“Hurt him.”

Steve braced himself as The Witch’s henchman quickly moved to follow her command, but it wasn’t him they were coming for, instead they raced out the same door Eddie had just been forced through.

“No!” Steve shouted, willing to risk anything if it kept Eddie safe.  “Take the damn shoes, I don't care! Just don’t… don’t hurt him, please.”

She shot him a cruel grin, and the monkeys holding him finally let go, backing away as she stalked closer. “That’s a good boy.” 

Steve snarled, briefly considering kicking her right in her smug face as she bent down, but thought she might be less likely to let Eddie go if he did. 

Begrudgingly, he held himself still as she reached out her hands, but before she could even lay a finger on the shoes, there was a flash of light, a spark like electricity crackling, and a force lashed out to zap her. 

The Witch jumped back, hissing. “Curse you!”

“That wasn’t me! I swear!”

“No, but I should have known. My sister must have put a spell on them. They’ll never come off… as long as you’re alive.” She circled him slowly, tapping the end of her pointed chin. “Now the only question is how to do it.”

“Oh for the love of—” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just kill me if you’re going to kill me, alright? Why do you people always have to drag shit out?

“What people?”

“Bad guys!”

She huffed, straightening her cloak. “These things must be done delicately, or you hurt the spell.”

“They're always monologuing about their evil plans too. I mean, what’s up with that?” Eddie’s voice rang out from where he had suddenly appeared in the doorway behind The Witch, somehow having given his guards the slip.

She stomped her feet. “I don’t mono—” She began, then gasped, spinning around. “How did you get free?!”

Steve wracked his brain to come up with some kind of distraction, anything to keep her busy long enough for them to get away. 

“Hey, Witch!” He called out as he squatted to pick up the massive crystal ball he’d noticed on arrival, even heavier than it looked, and began to carry it towards one of the  windows. “You don’t need this for anything important, right?” 

“Put that back! It’s priceless!” she shrieked.

“It’s pretty heavy, I don’t know if i can–” Steve cut himself off, pretending to stumble, and tossed the ball as hard as he could, hoping she’d try to catch it.

She dove, and in an impressive show of strength and dexterity managed to get under the ball before it hit the ground, preventing it from breaking. She looked stunned from the fall, the weight of the crystal pinning her to the ground for the time being.

Steve made to run to Eddie’s side, but just then, the other set of doors burst open and half a dozen very tall foot soldiers in ornate uniforms, furry helmets, and with the same bright green skin as their ruler, spilled into the room, rounding on Steve and cutting them off from each other. 

“Just go!” Steve shouted.

Eddie shook his head, eyes darting from the door behind him to what he could see of Steve between the soldiers. “I’m not running away and leaving you here!”  

“Get out and find help! It's not running away if you’re coming back, right? Now— go!” 

“Damnit, Harrington.” Eddie cursed, taking a few stumbling steps towards the way out. “I am coming back.”

“I know.”

With one last tortured look Eddie took off, his pounding footsteps echoing as he ran through the hall and down what sounded like a set of stairs. Half the guards took off after him while the others remained with Steve, backing him into the wall.

Steve craned his neck, near enough to a window to peer out, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eddie’s escape and know first hand that he’d gotten away. 

“Come on, come on,” he chanted quietly to himself, even as the soldiers started trying to pull him back over to The Witch, who was unfortunately back on her feet again. The castle doors began to close as he watched, and for a second Steve thought all hope was lost, but then he spotted it—moonlight shining on dark curly hair, slipping through the opening just before the door slammed. 

Steve’s heart leapt, and he finally let himself be led back over to The Witch. No matter what else happened here, at least Eddie had made it. 

“You’ve been more trouble to me than you’re worth, brat!” 

“Heard that before.” Steve mumbled to himself. He didn’t fight as the hands on him shoved him down into a chair, figuring it was smarter to save his strength for now.

“But, it'll all be over soon,” The Witch added as she snatched a giant hourglass off a nearby shelf, flipping it over onto the table in front of him. “That’s how much longer you've got to be alive. When the sand runs out, I'll have made my preparations.”

With that, she and her soldiers left, locking both doors up tight, leaving him alone in the tower.

Steve didn’t waste time wondering why he wasn’t tied down or handcuffed, and was out of his seat in a flash. First he checked the doors because, duh, but they were, indeed, locked. He then ran back over to the window, wondering if he’d survive the drop. It didn’t seem likely—even if he did, there was no way he’d walk away from that kind of fall without needing serious medical attention, and he had yet to see a single hospital in Oz. 

His next move was to search the room for weapons, something to break the doors in, or anything he might be able to use to climb down. The curtains proved to be useless, moth bitten and too slippery to really tie together, and apart from a chair leg he managed to break off that doubled as a wooden stake, he found nothing else useful to defend himself with. 

Time passed slowly.

And yeah, Steve had been through a lot in his life, but he’d never been kidnapped before. He never would have imagined it could be this… boring? 

There was only so long you could stand at attention, waiting for your captor to come back before your eyelids started to droop. He wound up sitting at the windowsill, head resting on his arm as he gazed out at the night sky, letting his mind wander. He didn’t really believe this was the last night of his life, he’d survived too much to be taken down by some psychotic pea-soup looking bitch, but any hope he had of seeing home again was gone.

He thought back on all the time he’d wasted—squandered opportunities to tell the people he loved just how much he loved them, the number of times he blew Dustin off to go on a date with some girl he couldn’t give two shits about, all these months since Vecna with Eddie, unable to accept his own feelings, and too afraid to admit them aloud. 

He was so lost in it all that he almost didn’t hear the sound of someone pounding on one of the doors. Reasonably sure The Witch wouldn’t be knocking in her own castle, he ran to it, pressing his ear to the wood. 

“Steve?!” A muffled voice shouted from the other side. 

Eddie!

“It’s me, yes! In here!”

“Stand back, I’m going to chop through the door!”

Steve stepped back, watching in awe as the wood slowly splintered away with each blow, until finally he could see Eddie’s face through it, distantly thinking it looked like he had some sort of animal resting on his head. 

A few more chops and there was a hole big enough for Steve to squeeze through. 

Once on the other side, he saw that Eddie wasn’t alone. The Tin Woman, The Scarecrow, and The Lion were all with him—all dressed like The Witch’s soldiers.

“Costume change?” Steve asked.

“Long story.” Eddie let out a shaking breath as he tore the fuzzy hat from his head and flung it aside, managing to shrug out of his big coat just in time to catch Steve as he threw himself into the other boy’s arms. 

“I wasn’t sure I'd ever see you again.” Steve whispered with his face pressed into Eddie’s hair. 

“You didn’t think I was really coming back?”

“I knew you’d try, even if I hoped you wouldn’t.”

Eddie squeezed him tighter. “You’re such a self sacrificial ass.”

“Takes one to know one.” Steve pulled back, punching him lightly in the shoulder before turning to The Scarecrow, drawing her into a quick hug too. “I can’t believe it, you’re really okay?”

“Might be missing a little stuffing here and there but, these two did a great job getting me back in one piece.”

Their reunion was abruptly cut short by shouts in the distance.

“We gotta get out of here!” The Lion roared.

“What about the broom?” Steve said.

Eddie grabbed his hand. “She wants to kill you, Steve, fuck the broom! We’ll find some other way home.”

The group of them flew down the stairs back towards the way they’d come in. By some miracle they didn’t see a soul along the way, but as they raced across the foyer, just before they reached the exit, the doors swung closed, right in their faces.

“Going so soon?”

Steve turned at The Witch’s voice, spotting her standing on a balcony above looking down at them, laughing, as soldiers began spilling into the space from every direction. They were surrounded, though oddly none of the green men actually attacked, only approached slowly and menacingly.

“That’s right,” The Witch praised her guards. “Don’t hurt them right away, we’ll let them think about it a little first.”

Steve rolled his eyes. 

Eddie raised the ax he still held, as though he would take on the entire brigade himself, but The Scarecrow snatched it out of his hand. 

“What the–” 

She swung it around, chopping and cutting a rope tied to the wall that Steve hadn’t even noticed, and sent a giant chandelier falling from the ceiling to land on a large group of the soldiers. 

“Good thinking!” Steve said, and they used the momentary distraction to flee, running up a different set of steps to get away since it was the only path that was clear. They had no idea where they were going, and up didn’t seem likely to lead out, but they had little choice now. 

The soldiers unaffected by the chandelier attack gave chase, and the five of them ran down corridor after corridor before finally spilling out onto the battlement, a part of the wall where soldiers patrol. It was a dead end and quickly they found themselves backed into a corner, soldiers on both sides, The Wicked Witch among them. 

“Well,” she sing-songed as she zeroed in on Steve, “ring around the rosie, a pocket full of spears. Thought you’d be pretty foxy didn’t you? Well the last to go will see the first four go before him.”

Eddie leaned into Steve’s side, whispering, “What the hell did she just say?”

“I have no idea.” Steve said.

“I think she’s going to kill the rest of us first and make you watch.” The Scarecrow guessed.

“Right you are, Scarecrow. So how about a little fire?” The Wicked Witch raised the head of her broom up to one of the many torches that ran along the length of the wall, lighting it.

There was no way Steve was letting her anywhere near The Scarecrow with that thing, she’d go up in seconds and unlike being disassembled he was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to come back from that. He lunged for the broomstick before she could lower it, grabbing it in the middle and fighting for control. 

The next thing Steve knew he was being soaked in water like he was a contestant in a wet t-shirt contest.

The fire was put out instantly, the broomstick clattering to the ground as The Witch started screaming bloody murder. 

“Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! Who would've thought two pretty-boy-brats like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness.”

It was only water—from the now empty bucket Eddie was holding that he’d found god knows where—but as though she’d been dipped in the most corrosive acid known to man, The Witch began to sizzle and smoke, and truly did melt away into a puddle on the stone floor, leaving nothing solid but her clothes behind.

“She’s dead, you killed her.” One of the soldiers blurted out.

Steve hovered, trying to shield Eddie, unsure of how this was going to play out. The witch might have been gone, but they were still sorely outnumbered if her henchman’s loyalty extended past the grave. 

But Eddie wasn’t having it. He remained in front, tilting his chin up. “Honestly, it was an accident, but she did try to kill us first, so—fair is fair.”

There was a moment of absolute silence before the entire army, monkeys included, let out a deafening cheer. “Hail to Steve and Eddie! The Wicked Witch is dead!”

Eddie looked back at him, jaw dropped, and Steve could only smile.

When the cacophony died down, Steve approached the first soldier who spoke, supposing he might be the leader or general or something. “The broomstick, can we have it?” 

“Yes, of course! Please, take it with you.”

After a short reunion with a certain stunned-to-see-them-still-alive guard, fresh off what must have been an epic frolic through the poppy field and subsequent mystical slumber—if the state of his very red and heavy lidded eyes was any indication—Steve, Eddie, and their companions once again entered The Wizard’s throne room.

“Why have you come back?!” The deep voice of the Wizard rumbled through the air.

“We did what you asked.” Steve said simply, holding the Witch’s charred broom above his head.

They all waited with bated breath for some kind of response, but were met with nothing. After a few long moments Eddie took the broomstick from Steve and stepped forward. 

“The Wicked Witch is dead, and uh, we brought you the broomstick.” He cleared his throat loudly, unceremoniously tossing the burnt bit of wood in the direction of the dais. “So, make with the wish granting, yeah?” 

“I’ll have to give the matter a little thought. Go away and come back tomorrow.” The voice eventually responded.

“Tomorrow?!” Eddie snapped.

Steve shook his head, hands balled into fists at his sides. “But we wanna go home now!”

“We did everything you asked!.” The Tin Woman argued.

“Yes! At least send them home! They deserve it after performing such a great public service!” The scarecrow added, staring defiantly up at the floating head. 

As the others jumped in to help argue their point, Eddie began to look around the room, searching, and beckoned Steve to follow him. They quickly found something odd tucked in a dark corner that seemed not only out of place, but frankly looked like an obvious control center of some sort hidden behind a green curtain. How hadn’t they noticed it before?

Together they crept closer, each grabbing one side of the cloth, and on a silent count of three…

“Do you dare to criticize the Great Oz? Think yourselves lucky that I'm giving you an audience tomorrow instead of twenty—” 

…Flung the curtain back to reveal a young girl, about their age, with red hair, a bowler hat, and an all around Molly Ringwald vibe.

“...years from now.” 

She swiveled in her chair as she finished her sentence, the words a strange mix of the booming voice they’d been hearing, and her actual voice coming through as her mouth got further from the contraption she was using to alter it.  

“Ah, shit.” The girl, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Robin’s almost-girlfriend Vickie, sighed as she spotted the two of them, realizing she’d been caught in the act.

The others came over to join the party just as Eddie got up in her face. “Who the hell are you?” 

She looked down, fingers playing with the hem of her top. “Would you believe… The Great and Powerful Oz?”

“What a scam! You’re a phony!” Steve shouted.

“I am, yes.” Her shoulders slumped. “These are all tricks I learned working with a magician at the State Fair.”

Eddie fumed. “You sent us on a suicide mission!”

“And I'm very sorry about that!” She said quickly, holding her hands up. ”In my defense, I didn't actually expect you to go after The Witch, I thought if I gave you an impossible task you would just give up and not come back. Then my reputation could stay intact.”

“I suppose this means no brain for The Scarecrow, or heart for me, or courage for The Lion?” The Tin Woman said. 

“You don’t need me for that, you already have all those things. Think about it, Tin Woman. Was it not for the love of your friends that you helped them to get here, and to defeat the Wicked Witch? Someone with no heart wouldn’t do that.”

The Wizard smiled, rising from her chair, facing The Lion next.

“And you, Lion. What, you think just because you’re afraid that makes you a coward? You still did it, you still stood by your friends. See, the trick isn’t to not be scared, it’s to be scared and do it anyway. That’s courage.”

The Wizard turned lastly to face The Scarecrow and audibly gasped, her face turning an incredibly bright shade of red. “You, um, you helped to argue your friend's cases well, and I-I think it’s quite clear that you have a-a brain.” She paused, swallowing hard. “A b-big gorgeous brain, with, just—so many thoughts. I… sorry I don't usually—”

She trailed off, completely flustered and unable to look away from The Scarecrow’s face. 

For a moment The Scarecrow looked equally entranced by the Wizard, but then she frowned, looking back at Steve and Eddie. “But, what about the boys? They want to go home.”

The Wizard bit her lip. “Well, I might have a way to get them there, but it would mean taking them myself, never to return.”

“Will you?” Eddie asked.

“Of course,” She said hesitantly, looking from him and Steve to The Scarecrow and shook her head. “I—of course. I used to live in Indiana too, y’know. I was working at the fair, like I said, and one morning the boss asked me to test the propane tanks in the hot air balloon. I didn’t know what I was doing but it seemed easy enough. Damn thing took off on me, and just never came down. I got caught in a wind storm and landed here in Oz, came up with this ruse about being a Wizard and, well, you get the idea.”

“Do you still have the balloon?” Steve asked.

She grinned. “How do you think we’re getting you home?”

-

Steve and Eddie finally leaving Oz turned out to be a grand spectacle, with every citizen wanting to thank them for ridding their lands of not one, but two Wicked Witches, in such a short span of time. Even Glinda had made the journey to see them off. 

The balloon was set up in the middle of the square, and as The Wizard checked and re-checked her equipment, Steve and Eddie set about saying their farewells.

They hugged The Tin Woman and The Lion, and while It was difficult to say goodbye to them, it was nothing to the way Steve felt about leaving The Scarecrow. He had his own Robin, his best friend, waiting for him back home, but he felt connected to this version of her almost as strongly. 

It didn’t help that he’d seen the way she and The Wizard had been looking at each other since the moment they’d met. 

“Alright boys, ready to go?” The Wizard asked, looking sad.

“No,” Steve answered, turning an apologetic look on Eddie. “I can’t. I can’t ask her to leave forever, not if…”

“It’s okay, Steve. I saw it too. I want to go home, but I feel terrible.”

“Maybe Glinda can help?” Steve said.

One mention of her name and suddenly The Good Witch was right beside them, as if she’d been waiting for this moment. “You don't need to be helped any longer. You've always had the power to go back to Hawkins.”

Steve blinked at her. “I have?”

“Then why didn't you tell him that before?!” The Scarecrow asked. 

“Because, Steve had a few things he needed to figure out first. Isn’t that right?”

Steve gulped, giving her wide eyes.

“I don’t get it.” The Lion said. 

The Tin Woman shushed him, patting his hand. “I’ll explain it to you later.”

Eddie tilted his head. “What does she mean, Steve?”

“Well, I-I.” Steve stammered, eyes darting between Glinda and Eddie.

The Good Witch smiled, nodding encouragingly. “If you are ready to accept the truth, those magic slippers will take you home in two seconds.”

Steve but his lip. “Eddie too?”

Glinda laughed, high and bright. “Of course, Eddie too. Now stand together, and facing each other.”

They did what she asked, and while he remained quiet, Eddie was giving him that curious look again. 

“What do I have to do, are there, like, magic words?” Steve asked.

“There are lots of magic words, Steve, but to get home you need only close your eyes, tap your heels together three times, and show the truth that is in your heart.

There was only one way Steve could think of to show the truth, so…

He took a deep breath, closed the space between him and Eddie, and crashed their lips together. His eyes fell shut as Eddie kissed back, melting into it—and as Eddie threaded gentle fingers through his hair, Steve clicked his heels together, three times.

-

“Steve?”

Eddie’s voice rolled over him out of the dark, tinged with concern. 

Steve groaned, disoriented, his neck aching from the angle it was at, and he could feel a bit of drool drying on his chin. 

“Stevie, wake up.” This time Eddie gently shook his shoulder, and Steve’s head snapped up, eyes popping open wide. He looked around wildly, confused to find that he was slumped in a chair behind the desk at Family Video—but it didn’t matter where they’d landed, he supposed, the shoes had worked, they were back!

“Did he fall asleep again?” Robin’s voice called out from directly behind, and Steve spun around so fast he knocked his chair over, which in turn knocked over a small stack of tapes.

He ignored the mess, pulling her into a tight hug. It was really her! No straw, no burlap, just a sweatshirt she’d stolen from his closet two nights ago, with her work vest over the top. 

She shook her head like he was an idiot, but hugged him back anyway before letting go to set the chair back on its legs. “I was only in the back rewinding returns for half an hour!”

“Oh,” Steve breathed, finally registering what she’d first said, and felt suddenly lost. He could have sworn it was real, but Robin wasn’t freaking out the way he knew she would have if he’d disappeared for an entire night and day…

Or was it two? 

The more he thought about it the less sure he was of how long he and Eddie had been stuck in that colorful other dimension. 

If—if he had been stuck in another dimension. 

Robin said he’d been asleep, and he was just slumped in his chair at the desk at the end of his shift, and there Eddie was, right in front of him looking amused, if a little worried, and… and wearing a completely different shirt than he’d had on as they trekked through—

Oh.

Eddie, who was here to pick him up for their hang out because Robin was borrowing his car.

Steve groaned again, rubbed his temples. “I had such a weird dream.” 

“Was it a nightmare?” Robin asked.

It was a fair question, and something they all experienced from time to time even this many months out from their final dealings with the Upside Down. But this…this had been something wholly different.

“I’m not sure.” He settled on, yawning as he fought to think through the fog that was slowly lifting from his brain. Had it really all been in his head? A dream, a fantasy?

“Some of it wasn't very nice, but—” He glanced at Eddie again and felt a blush spread over his face. “Most of it was beautiful.”

“You were there.” Steve continued, giving the other boy a little nod. Eddie’s lips twitched into a crooked smile. 

Steve turned to Robin next.  “You were too—and Nancy, and Jonathan, and Argyle, and—” he trailed off, trying to remember everyone else he’d encountered along the way.

Eddie chuckled. “Did Robin make you watch The Wizard of Oz on repeat again?”

Steve froze.

Oz, yellow brick road, Munchkins…

He was such an idiot.

“It was slow this morning!” Robin lashed out, defensively. And you know I’m seeing Vickie tonight, I needed my comfort movie to settle my nerves!”

“Yes, I am well aware of your impending date, Buckley, hence me and my van being here to play chauffeur.”

Steve checked the time, he still had about fifteen minutes until he could officially lock up and clock out. “You’re early.”

Eddie shrugged. “I still have to pick us a movie for tonight. You go do your closing duties, or whatever, I'll be perusing the stacks.” 

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away as Eddie walked off. He could still remember the other boy’s fingers pushing into his hair, gently cradling his head as they’d kissed—how his lips had felt so incredibly soft.

He wondered if it would be the same in real life.

“Steve… did you OD over there?” 

Steve startled as, once again, Robin's voice came from directly behind him, though much softer this time. He took her hand, pulling her to the other side of the room. 

“Do you remember that thing we talked about?”

She scrunched her nose. “Which thing?”

Steve sighed, speaking low. “You know, the… how some people go both ways, thing?”

She gasped, grabbing his arm, and looked back over her shoulder to where Eddie was still browsing, before whispering, “Do you mean…?”

Steve nodded, unable to stop his mouth from spreading into a wide grin.

“Are you gonna tell him tonight?!”

“Yeah, I think so.” Steve bit his lip. “Well, that, or maybe just stick my tongue down his throat the second we’re alone.”

Robin snorted. “And they say romance is dead.” 

“Okay smart-ass, how do you think I should go about it?”

“I think—it doesn’t matter what you say or do, because that boy is just as crazy about you as you are about him.”

“I hope so.” Steve looked down, wringing his hands. “I really like him. I-I might even–” He trailed off, too afraid to finish the thought even though he knew it was the truth.

“I know, dingus.”

At the other end of the store, tape in hand, Eddie began to make his way to the counter.

Robin gave Steve a little push towards the break room door. “You go splash some water on your face and change. I'll get your man checked out.”

“Not mine yet.”

“He will be. I’m proud of you, Steve.”

“Thanks, Robbie.”

As much as he’d joked to Robin about just going for it, Steve spent the whole drive to the new Munson trailer trying to compose the perfect speech to tell Eddie how he felt, but by the time they arrived he had nothing to show for his efforts but sweaty palms and anxiety.

Should he have just reached over the center console, taken Eddie’s hand, and hoped he got the hint? Maybe he shouldn’t make such a big deal out of it. No, no. Steve was supposed to be good at this! Eddie deserved more, he deserved the perfect moment. 

“You, uh, planning on coming inside?”

Steve sucked in a breath, snapping to attention, and realized Eddie had already gotten out of the van and come around to open the passenger door.

“Sorry.” Steve’s face grew hot as he climbed out of the van. “Guess I'm still feeling a little out of it from falling asleep earlier.”

Eddie frowned, reaching up to feel Steve’s forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Are you sure that’s all? You do feel a little warm.”

“I’m fine.” Steve ducked his head, throwing off the touch, though what he really wanted was to lean into it, and followed Eddie inside.

Eddie went right for the kitchen, throwing the bag from Family Video bag on the counter before diving into the fridge, digging out two beers.

Steve tried hard not to stare as Eddie bent over, reaching for the bag for something to do instead, and pulled the single tape out, flipping it over to the cover. 

“Seriously? Return to Oz?”

Eddie turned, grinning as he took a sip from his own bottle, sliding the other one towards him. “Come on, that's funny!” 

Steve huffed a laugh and tossed the tape back onto the counter.

“And, y’know… it’s a good movie.” Eddie went on, grin slipping a little as he set his beer down and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away—looking nervous, Steve realized. He realized something else too—there was never going to be a perfect time, or a perfect way to say what was in his heart. He knew how he felt, and he was pretty sure he knew how Eddie felt now too, or at least his subconscious did. Now he just needed to take that leap of faith.

“I know you don’t really like all the horror stuff me and the kids usually make you watch, and since it’s just the two of us I figured—” 

In the middle of Eddie’s adorably flustered ramble Steve stepped around the kitchen counter, took the other boy’s face gently between his hands, and crushed their mouths together.

Eddie went very still under his touch and Steve quickly pulled back, panicked for a moment that he had it all wrong, until Eddie wound his arms around him, gripping the back of his shirt as he pressed him into the counter, and suddenly Steve was the one being kissed.  

And what a kiss it was.

At the first brush of tongue Steve smiled into it, unable to contain his joy because Eddie had kissed him back! 

When they finally pulled apart again, Eddie blinked hard, looking dazed. “Shit, Steve, am I–am I dreaming right now?”

“God I hope not.” Steve went right back in, winding his hands into Eddie’s hair as their lips met again and again, their bottles of beer forgotten, left to grow warm on the counter. 

-

Later that night, when the movie was over—not that they’d seen much of it—after they’d actually talked and made their relationship official, and made out so much that Steve’s lips were sore, they curled up in Eddie’s bed together. 

As he burrowed deeper into Eddie’s side, and Eddie wrapped his arms around him even tighter, Steve let out a contented sigh. 

Dorothy had it right—there really is no place like home.

Thanks again to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for all your help with this!

#steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie wizard of oz #adventures in following the yellow brick road with your crush #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie #gift fic

[kaycares22]

At 7:36 AM on a Tuesday, Draco stumbles out of her personal Floo. It sounds like he tumbles out, and Hermione gasps as she whirls around to face the hearth in her kitchen. He’s bent over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. She’s never seen him look less put together.

“Draco. What’s wrong?” There’s a wild look in his eyes as he straightens, staring at her in a way that makes her feel more vulnerable than when he had her skirt hitched up around her waist seconds after he placed a silencing charm on the door to her office yesterday. She’s grown used to his touch, his taste, his presence in her life in stolen moments. But a wake-up call is outside the protocol of their trysts.

Not to mention that his face is currently whiter than the white blonde of his hair.

“What happened?” she asks when he continues to stare at her with wide gray eyes instead of answering her question. “What’s wrong?”

His hand shakes as he raises it to run it through his hair. “The tapestry,” he finally rasps. “The bloody fucking tapestry.”

“The…?” Hermione frowns as she watches his Adam's apple bob with the force of his swallow. He runs his hand through his hair again, and she thinks to herself that he looks spider-webbed, seconds away from shattering with the force of a breeze. “Here. Come sit.”

Draco’s hand still shakes in hers when she takes it, but he lets her lead him to one of the stools at her counter. He stares at some spot over her shoulder, almost despondent in his panic, until she presses her palm against his cheek. She ignores the voice in the back of her mind that questions why this feels like the most intimate way she’s ever touched him.

His eyes have that same wild quality when he stares back at her. “What happened to the tapestry?”

Rubbing a hand over his face, he mumbles something to himself that sounds like Didn’t think this part through. His hand covers his eyes for several long seconds before he finally lets it drop away. But then his eyes roam her body like he’s searching for an answer, and she wishes he’d cover his eyes again instead.

It catches her off guard when he asks, “How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?” she repeats, sounding daft even in her own ears.

“Do you feel… normal?”

Draco’s eyes scan her body again, and she crosses her arms over her chest to lessen that feeling of being laid bare before him. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Is there something you need to tell me?” He shifts directions as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. And Hermione feels exasperated.

“Draco, what the hell are you getting at?” she sighs.

He falls silent again, but at least this time he holds her gaze. Another swallow, another bob. Another shaking hand through his hair. And then his voice a thin rasp again when he says, “You appeared on my family tapestry.”

Her blood freezes in her veins. She has no idea what that means, and she’s certain she knows what he just said at the same time. But her brain refuses to accept that interpretation. “I- what?”

“Granger, you are now on the Malfoy family tapestry. Which could mean that when you got me drunk on firewhisky last Friday, I married you and managed to forget.” Her stomach flips at the easy way the word married rolls off his tongue, but something in her mind screams at him to stop there.

Marriage. Period. Full stop. As far as this train of thought goes.

But instead, he levels his gaze with hers again as a muscle twitches in his jaw. “But there would be a line connecting your name to mine. Not an empty circle with an hourglass beneath both our names.”

His eyes drop from hers to stare solidly at her middle. She rushes to cross her arms there, to hide it from his view. “That’s impossible.”

But even as she says the words, she hears the lack of sincerity. Impossible would mean she hadn’t been the one to kiss him first. Impossible would mean she hadn’t invited him back to hers that first time, telling herself the next morning that she had been a little too drunk when she hadn’t drunk at all. Impossible would mean he was still just her coworker, not someone who had traced every part of her with his hands.

It was very possible.

“You’ve been a bitch,” he adds, interrupting her thoughts.

“I have not!” She takes a step back to create distance. Her hand itches to slap him. He must sense it because his lip twitches despite the lack of color that remains in his face.

“You were all pissy with me last week when you misplaced your notes on the vampyr rights’ bill.” He waves a hand lazily towards her. “You’re pissy right now.”

“You called me a bitch!” she says, aghast. What had ever made her think it was a good idea to sleep with this man? And then to keep returning at various times for the last three months?

“Yesterday, my hand barely grazed your tit, and you flinched.” He cards a hand through his hair again. It looks unkempt now, and Draco Malfoy never looks unkempt. Neither of them. Neither of them ever looks unkempt because they are calculated and careful and intentional in everything they do.

Except for when she kissed him on an impulse after their co-authored legislation for the protection of centaurs passed.

Hermione has to fight the urge to raise her hand to her own breast to see if it’s still just as tender.

“Well, it’s impossible.” She sounds more sure of herself as she shakes her head and raises her chin. “I’m taking a potion.”

This time, his lip does more than twitch. It’s a sad kind of smirk he wears, and her hand itches again to slap it off his face. “Which would be canceled out by the antidote you took when you had that skin reaction to the asphodel.”

She had held her breath, waiting for him to point out all the potential flaws in her brewing her own contraceptive potion. But the way he takes his Double Mastery of Potions knowledge and easily points out the way her potions would counteract one another leaves her feeling faint.

Hermione feels the color leave her own face. But her stubborn resistance grows a reciprocal amount.

“Well, this is ridiculous,” she mutters as she storms across the room to her discarded wand on the counter. She turns back around to find that Draco is standing again, gripping the counter as if it’s a life raft. She waves her wand and mutters the detection charm, determined to prove him wrong.

And instead, a tiny gold light appears above her abdomen. Flickering like a rapid heartbeat.

Her knees buckle as her whole world upends. But Draco just stares at it with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of fear and awe as he whispers, “Well, fuck me.”

#dramione #draco x hermione #dhr #dhr fanfiction #dramione fanfic #draco malfoy #hermione granger #dramione drabble #my ficlet #guilty sinners #clever words

[bigoltrashpile]

Stay With Us

Hi guys!! Once again the lovely @galacticroyal93 has commissioned me! This is a yandere fic with all the boys trying to convince reader to finally move in with them! I hope you enjoy!

Lucky growled as he scrolled through the pictures on his phone.  His face almost hurt from how hard he was scowling.  All he wanted was a good picture of you to add to his collection, but every one had…him in it.  Your boyfriend.  Another growl escaped Lucky as he thought the word.  Every picture you had posted to your social media for the last few months had that scum in it.

All the skeletons had, either separately or together, plotted to kill him, of course.  They couldn’t just let some…nobody have you.  However, Papyrus had pointed out that if they killed him now, it might only force you into depression and solitude, pushing you further away instead of closer.  So they were forced to watch from afar, all seething with jealousy when you talked about your boyfriend.

Lucky chuckled as he remembered how each of them reacted when you introduced them to your date.  They ranged from Papyrus trying hard to smile but looking like he had just eaten a lemon, to Scar outright producing bone attacks and using his claws to sharpen them.  After a little while, you stopped mentioning him around the skeletons, and he hadn’t seen any of them face to face since that first meeting.

Of course, many of them had seen him.  They had to keep tabs on their favorite human, of course, and try to find dirt about their least favorite human.

After what felt like the hundredth photo of you and your boyfriend on a date, Lucky was fed up.  He tossed his phone across the room and stood up.  If he wanted to see you, he could do it in person.  No need to look at photos when he could just see you for himself!  Those pictures could never capture your true beauty, anyway.

Before he left, he quickly grabbed the small blue vial given to him by this world’s Alphys.  He probably wouldn’t need to use it, but you could never be too prepared.

Lucky quickly shortcutted close to your home.  Just appearing on your doorstep would seem too clingy, this way he could pretend he was just in the area when you saw him.  He and the others had done this same song and dance many times before, but you hadn’t suspected anything yet.

He had only been walking for a minute or so, when someone walked almost straight into his chest.  “WOAH, WATCH OUT-OH!”  What luck!  It was you!!  “HELLO, DEAR!  WHAT A COINCIDENCE!” he said, turning on the charm.  “IT’S ALWAYS A DELIGHT TO SEE Y-”  Lucky froze.  You looked…strange.  Not in a bad way, but…  “Have You Been Crying?”

You paused, touching your red and puffy eyes.  “Huh?  Oh, no!  I mean, yeah, but no.  I was crying but like, it’s fine,” you half laughed.

Well that didn’t do anything to soothe his mind.  “SO YOU WERE CRYING?  WHY?  DID YOUR BOYFRIEND DO SOMETHING?”  He tried to fight the part of him that hoped your boyfriend had messed up his relationship with you.

“I mean…yeah?  But also it was me who did it,” you giggled again.  “Let’s walk, actually, and I can tell you about it!”

You kept going down the street, practically humming as you did.  A very strange thing for someone who was just crying but also not crying.  “...ARE YOU HIGH?” Lucky asked, following close behind.  

“Uh huh!  Oooooooh that’s probably why you thought I was crying!” you seemed to connect the dots in  your fuzzy brain.  “Yeah, it’s fine!  I just broke up with my boyfriend and wanted to take the edge off a bit,” you said casually.

It took every ounce of self control for Lucky to not cheer and pump his fist in the air.  You were single!  This was the greatest thing that had ever happened!!!  He let a small smile play across his face.  You were slightly in front of him, he could allow himself that luxury.  “I’M SO SORRY TO HEAR THAT!”  Hopefully your smoke addled brain wouldn’t hear the excitement in his voice.  

“It’s okay.  It was…probably not the best relationship,” you admitted.  “I mean, he wasn’t abusive or anything!  He just like, didn’t listen to me ever, you know?”

“HE DID ALWAYS SEEM LIKE THERE WASN’T A LOT UPSTAIRS,” Lucky admitted.

“Yeah, haha!  He’s a dumbass!” you joked, smacking Lucky playfully on the arm.  “Not like you guys!”

Lucky gritted his teeth.  Of course.  You weren’t only thinking of him, but the others as well.  That’s okay, he could work with this.  “I DON’T KNOW, BUTCH IS PRETTY STUPID AS WELL,” he forced a laugh.

“Yeah, but he means well.”  You gave him your dazzling smile.  Even slightly out of it, you were breathtaking.  “Hey, where are the other guys anyway?  Are you here by yourself?”

“WELL, YES.  I WAS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD WHEN I RAN INTO YOU.”  An idea suddenly struck him.  “WHY, WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO BACK TO THE HOUSE WITH ME?”

“You bet your ass I do!  Your place is always soooooo fun!” you gushed.

“PERFECT.  COME ON THEN, DEAR.”  He held out his hand.  You eagerly took it, and Lucky strolled around a corner with you, shortcutting you back to the skeletons’ home.  This time, Lucky hoped, he could convince you to stay.

The two of you reappeared inside his home, and you were almost immediately noticed by the others.  “darlin’!” Hound gasped.  “what are ya doin’ here?”

“Lucky invited me!” you explained cheerfully.  You half stumbled to the couch and inserted yourself in between Hound and Butch, who were watching some old show together.  Lucky’s face contorted into a hateful glare.  Thankfully, you were too busy trying to figure out how your legs worked.  “I just broke up with my boyfriend…”

Butch’s eyes lit up, and Hound looked over at Lucky in surprise.  He raised an eyebrow, silently asking the obvious question.  Lucky just shook his head.  He didn’t have anything to do with it.  You did that yourself.  

“sorry to hear that, doll,” Butch said, voice not sounding sorry at all.  “that mean you’re back on the market?~”  As he spoke, he playfully trailed his hand up your inner thigh.  You smacked it away, laughing.

“Not right now, I want to watch this with you guys!”  You pointed at the show.  Lucky didn’t recognize the program, but it seemed to feature several old women sassing each other.

Butch’s face fell, but he relented.  All the better for him, Lucky thought.  If Butch got to touch you before Lucky did, he would have to cut off Butch’s hand.

“DO YOU WANT TO STAY FOR DINNER?” Lucky asked.  “I THINK NOIR IS IN CHARGE TODAY.”

Your stomach growled, and you nodded eagerly.  “Yes please!  I’m starving!”

“EXCELLENT!  I BELIEVE IT WILL BE READY SOON.”

You nodded, quickly arranging yourself so that your head was on Hound’s lap and your legs draped across Butch’s.  Both of them seemed thrilled by this unusually cuddly version of you.  Lucky tried to stop himself from seething in jealousy.  Sadly, there was no room for him to sit now, so he forced himself to not shove Butch out of the way and take his place.  It’s okay, once you were his, he would be in that spot.

Butch gave Lucky a shit eating grin as he started running his claws up and down your soft legs.  Not as suggestive as before, just relishing in the feel of your skin.  Once again, it took all of Lucky’s self control to not snap right there.

“I’M GOING TO BE UPSTAIRS UNTIL DINNER,” Lucky half growled.  He strode quickly out of the room.  As he rounded the corner to the stairs, he almost ran into someone for the second time today.

“woah, bro, where are you going in such a hurry?”  Oh thank the stars, it was Slim.  “you okay?  you seem ticked off.”

“YES, I…”  He looked behind him.  “Actually, Let’s Talk In Private.”

Slim nodded, and Lucky led him back to his room.  Slim sighed at the state of Lucky’s room.  It was messy as usual, but Lucky could find everything.  Just because nobody else understood his system doesn’t mean it’s not organized!  “i don’t know how you live like this.”

“HUSH, THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT!  WHAT IS IMPORTANT IS THAT…”  Lucky paused for dramatic effect.  “Our Human Is Newly Single.”

Slim’s eyes widened.  “holy shit.”

“YES.  THEY’RE STAYING FOR DINNER, BUT THE BEST PART IS THAT THEY ARE HIGH.  THIS MEANS THAT THEY ARE MUCH MORE SUSCEPTIBLE.”

“we can finally get ‘em to move in,” Slim gasped.

“YES.  DURING DINNER, WE NEED TO TRY OUR BEST TO GET THEM TO STAY.  IF THAT FAILS, I HAVE THIS.”  He pulled the blue vial out of his pocket.  “I GOT THIS FROM THIS WORLD’S ALPHYS.  IF THEY’RE NOT GOING FOR IT, I’LL SLIP THIS INTO THEIR FOOD, AND THEY’LL BE OUT LIKE A LIGHT.  THEN, WE CAN TRY AGAIN IN THE MORNING.  YOU CAN EVEN GET THEM HIGH AGAIN TO HELP CONVINCE THEM!”

“i dunno how i feel about that,” Slim muttered.  “i mean, i don’t want to use weed to make them love us.  that feels shitty.”

“THEY ALREADY LOVE US,” Lucky pointed out.  “THEY JUST NEED WEED TO HELP THEM REALIZE IT!”

“still feels wrong…”

“IT’S ONLY A LAST RESORT,” Lucky pointed out.  “IF ALL GOES WELL, WE DON’T NEED TO USE MY PLAN.”  He gave his brother a joking smile.  “PLUS, YOUR IDEAS HAD WAY MORE MURDER THAN MY PLANS.”

Slim rolled his eyes, unable to keep the smile off his face.  “yeah, yeah.  i’m not actually hurting them though, just their shitty boyfriend.  or, ex-boyfriend.”  His smile grew.  “this might actually work.”

“THANK YOU!”

“at least it’s better than sans’s plan.”

“THE BOX ON THE STICK?”

“nyeh heh heh, yeah!  this isn’t fuckin’ looney tunes,” Slim laughed.

The two of them left Lucky’s room, feeling hopeful about their chances with you.  After all, they could  take care of you much better than your ex-boyfriend could.

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

Within an hour, all nine of you were around the dinner table.  Noir had cooked some curry, and it actually looked pretty good.  Some of the meat was a bit scorched, but overall, it was much better than when he had first come to this universe.  Lucky couldn’t keep his eyes off you as you practically inhaled your food.  You really were hungry.  He had heard of the munchies before, but it seemed you had it to the extreme.  Papyrus piled some more food onto your plate, and you smiled at him gratefully.

After a few minutes of eating, Lucky finally spoke up.  “SO Y/N,” he said as casually as he could muster.  “I’M SORRY ABOUT YOUR BREAKUP.”

Immediately, the table went silent.  They all turned to you, identical expressions of shock and excitement on their faces.  Lucky was grateful that you were both oblivious and high so you didn’t suspect anything.

“Yeah,” you mumbled between forkfuls of rice.  “I broke up with him.”  You were frowning, but quickly replaced it with a smile.  “He was kind of a jerk.”

“REALLY?” Papyrus asked gently.  “HE SEEMED SO….NICE.”

“He was…at first.  Then he started just…I dunno.”  You sighed.  “I’d ask him to do things, not even hard things, but he wouldn’t.  Sometimes it was like I wasn’t even there.”  You picked at your plate, appetite seemingly gone.  “He’d tell me that he loved me, but he never showed it.  Then when I got frustrated at him he’d act like I was the problem, you know?  I kept trying to understand, but it just got to be too much.”  You seemed to realize you had been talking for a while and shoved some more food into your mouth.  “So yeah, dropped his dead weight!”  You laughed.  “I deserve someone who treats me right!”

“you sure do, darlin’,” Hound smiled.  While you were facing Hound you didn’t notice Sans and Papyrus high fiving under the table.  “you deserve someone who treats ya like royalty.”

“Ha!  You guys are so nice you make me feel like royalty!” you laughed.

Now was his chance.  Lucky spoke up again.  “YES!  WE COULD TREAT YOU LIKE THIS EVERY DAY!” he grinned, pretending to be joking.

“Pfft, come on, I can’t come over to your place every day!” you laughed.  “You’d get sick of me!”

“we’d never get sick of ya, honey,” Slim interjected.  He gave a small smile.  “you could come over every day…or even just stay here.”

Finally, it seemed to click in the rest of the skeletons.  “YES!  YOU COULD STAY HERE,” Noir said, leaning forward.  “I COULD USE SOMEONE WHO APPRECIATES MY CULINARY MASTERPIECES!”

“it’d be great to always have ya around, starlight,” Sans smiled.  “we’re always so much happier when you’re here.”

You blushed.  “Oh come on, there’s no way-”

Scar reached across the table and put his hand over yours.  “I KNOW I DON’T ALWAYS SAY HOW I FEEL, BUT I WOULD BE OVERJOYED IF YOU LIVED WITH US,” he said bluntly.  “DON’T TRY TO ARGUE WITH ME.  YOU ARE A JOY TO HAVE HERE.”

That really seemed to get you, and you covered your face with your hands.  “I-I mean…it’s so sudden, I can’t just pick up and move.”

“WHY?” Lucky asked.

“...I dunno,” you admitted.  “I guess it would be nice to be around you guys…and have a change of scenery…and be around people who actually listen to me…”  It seemed like you were doing the job of convincing you better than the skeletons were.  “Fuck it, why not.”

“YOU MEAN IT?” Lucky asked.  “YOU’LL LIVE WITH US?”

“Sure!”

Immediately, all of the skeletons erupted into cheers.  You seemed shocked by the reception.  “Jeez, I didn’t know you all liked me so much!”

Lucky laughed silently to himself.  Sweet thing, you had no idea.  “OF COURSE WE DO!  YOU’RE OUR FRIEND, AFTER ALL,” he said.

Later that evening, you, Slim, and Lucky ended up on the couch together watching a movie.  You had agreed to stay the night as a sort of “trial run.”  You had fallen asleep much faster than either of them had expected, and your head lolled onto Lucky’s shoulder.  You were pressed in between the two skeletons, and your body heat was heavenly.

“i can’t believe they said yes,” Slim whispered.  He carded his phalanges through your hair.  “i really thought it’d take more convincing.”

“Me Too,” Lucky admitted.  “I’m Glad It Didn’t Come To That, Though.”

“yeah.”  Slim smiled.  “wish we’d have known.  could’ve gotten them high way earlier than this.”

“I Thought You Didn’t Want To Use Weed To Convince Them,” he said teasingly.

“yeah, well, ya can’t argue with the results,” Slim chuckled.  He gently tucked some hair behind your ear.  “i mean, we got ‘em here with us.”

“We Certainly Do.”  Lucky looked down at you.  You looked so peaceful, so relaxed.  He was right, no pictures could ever compare to the real you.  And now, he’d have unfiltered access, whenever he wanted.

He had dreamed of having you all to himself, but…he had to admit that you, him, and his brother made a pretty great family.  If he had to deal with the other skeletons for now, he could live with that.  You would soon realize that he and his brother were the only ones for you.

Until then, this was pretty damn perfect.

#my garbage #writing #sans x reader #papyrus x reader #mafiatale #mafiaswap #mafiafell #mafiaswapfell #commissions #commission

[pokimoko]

The One-Way Waltz of the Moth and the Wild Flame (and the Incident of the Authorial Intrusion) - A Good Omens Fic

Written by pokimoko

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: ~25K

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Muriel (Good Omens), Crowley & Nina (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) & Original Character(s)

Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens), Muriel (Good Omens), Original Characters, (who is technically not an original character but I've got to keep some secrets ;) ), Nina (Good Omens), Background & Cameo Characters

Summary: A story in which Crowley does not prevent forest fires, a radio sends out thoughts and prayers, an angel misuses the emergency contact, the local duck population invents socialism, trees are threatened to varying degrees of success, a waltz is indeed played, and an author considers the nature of tragedies.

Tags: Ineffable Divorce | Aziraphale and Crowley Break Up (Good Omens), Post-Break Up, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt, He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Muriel (Good Omens), Crowley & Muriel Friendship (Good Omens), Angst and Humor, Crowley-centric (Good Omens), Canon Continuation, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Episode: s02e06 Every Day (Good Omens), Pre-Season/Series 03, No Aziraphale Slander Here but it is also Crowley's POV so expect at least some Thoughts, Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Running Away, Both in the Emotional and Literal Sense, Because You Don't Have to Deal with Your Romantic and Personal Issues in Washington State. Obviously, (incorrect: you very much do), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), (even if he won't admit it), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), (another thing he won't admit), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), They're just being stupid, Not A Fix-It, References to God(s), Romantic Angst, America, United States, Fire Lookout, Remember Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires (Unless You Are Anthony J. Crowley), hey is it healthy to repeatedly relive a past trauma to deal with a breakup? asking for a friend, Scene: The Bookshop Fire (Good Omens), Fire, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Isolation, When You're Trying to Cope Badly in the American Wilderness but People Keep Talking to You, Radio, Inspired by Firewatch (Video Game), Character Study, Crowley and the Woes of Being In a Narrative That Won't Let You Go, (Fleabag voice) This is a Tragedy, But oh? What's this?, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending

#good omens #crowley #crowley good omens #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #fanfic #my fanfic #my fic #ao3 fanfic #my writing #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #gomens #gomens fic #hey good omens fandom. long time listener. first time caller. i thought i'd dip my toes in writing one of my fav characters #going from a 14th doctor fic straight to this was very funny because like. it's the same actor. similar mannerisms. almost the same voice #but they couldn't be any more different. move over 'weeelll' we've got 'ngk' and 'ngh' now #this story was an absolute joy to write. it was so fun getting to write in a style somewhat similar to the good omens book #like the fic is still perfectly angsty trust me but boy was it fun to be a little bit funny with it #also apologies for the long arse title. my brain decided that a good omens fic needed a really long and ridiculous name #to everyone who already knows me: yep. i'm writing a story with radios again. it's either ghosts or radios or both guys i'm sorry #different fandom. same old ideas #i am also furthering my brand that is writing long as heck oneshot fics. chapters? haven't heard of 'em #fyi crowley is literally the only character who shows up in this fic in person. everyone else is pure audio baby #'tis the isolated life of a fire lookout. even if that's the only part of the job that crowley's doing correctly #(the demon is...going through it folks. don't try this at home)

[jiraidanshi]

i need people who have never been anorexic or just straight up dont remember what its like for whatever reason to shut up about it forever because literally it changes the way your fucking brain works . when its really bad its literally the only thing you think about its wholly obsession literally the only thing you think about is your weight / measurements / how you look and how many calories your eating or burning and you literally cannot help but humblebrag about how your killing yourself and everyone is competition . and people act like youre just some bigot who hates fat people if you show symptoms or talk about it ever even if you were also a direct victim of fatphobia . i am not joking when i say they need to add looking at th*nspo or running an ed blog to the fucking dsm there is a reason its so widespread IT IS A SYMPTOM . and everyone acts like its just Disorder That Makes You Fatphobic and that its mental illness lite or mental illness only white cis women have when thats not even true and it is the mental illness with the highest mortality rate

#file type: .txt #chara♥ #i literally went from overweight to SEVERAL bmi points under underweight in two years and my resting heart rate was 40 bpm #it got to the point my heart was so weak i was physically incapable or excercising or even running #you cannot do something like that to yourself ' just because you hate fat people ' there is something wrong going on in your brain #i still have pictures of my body from that time and even though im ed brained rn its like so fucking scary looking at some of them #and the thing is even though i havent been anywhere close to that bad again in nearly 10 years theres still that little voice in my head #thats like ' you need to go back to that ' #and i am underweight rn and i still get that same high whenever someone comments on it even though i know its bad to think llike that #this is why its also so bad to be telling anorexics they need help / your worried about them you are literally adding fuel to the fire #trust me they know they need help the thing is it makes you not want it

[intertexts]

things that r of no interest to anyone BUT i just spent the past three hours moving furniture & also stacking trunks to like head height. Which i personally am very proud of

#theyre SO UNWIELDY MAN i finally copped out trying 2 lug one of those 50lb goat food bags On Top of the trunk stack... theyre manageable but #like just Flop & its very annoying. one of the funniest things to come out of my dad's old employment is that #we've got like eight to ten like u know. fucking steamship victorian ass trunks that he got somewhere. god i hate moving..... #i like doing this but at the same time a little voice in my brain is going fuck!!!! i hate that there's no places for anything!!! there use #to be a place for this!!!! ;__; #Clearing out the unfinished room for my sister. btw. #txt

[eebie]

we are deconstructing gender on Google docs tonight boys

#this is stupid LMAO im annotating stuff from a guy from liek the 1400s who prolly didnt even give a shit #when he wrote that In the spirit realm the concept of gender is nebulous at BEST #if not just totally absent #he was like.. ya spirit beings change their genders all the time They switch tey can be combinations they can be nothing #reading that like Hemm…. well 1 big belief Thats held in christianity is that people are spirit beings underneath all the flesh #so what does that mean for the people who are dead set on Sex Organs determining peoples personalities ? idk. makes you think #gender means jack shit basically. #a lot of people raised male tend to behave in certain ways Not because of their sex but because of expectations And norms #and same with people raised female #and that shit goes alll the way back 2 the stone age #obligatory Nothing wrong w falling into gender stereotypes if its stuff u genuinely like!!^_^ #anyways i rambled #i would have rambled more if tumblr wasnt trying to kill itself as i was typing #my rambles #my little peewee brain is sometimes capable of coherent thought But calling this coherent migjt be a stretch #bc im hardly in any mind 2 decide if im making sense . its like a fuckin echo chamber up in my brain N every echo becomes more n more warpd #until it eventually sounds normal 2 me ^_^ but when i voice it. the. suddenly i realize Wow thats fucked! #which is why. i usually keep my mouth shut !!! #but thats also bad .real bad If ur opinions always go unchallenged you may as well not even have them #should alwayd know Why you think what u do

[moonlightperseus]

it’s been two months already

#it’s hitting bad tonight #it feels like somehow i managed to forget a little #and that makes it all the more worse #nothing has been the same since. i think a part of me died with her #it would explain why everything feels so fucking empty all the goddamn time #there’s this stupid voice in my brain telling me that i’m overreacting and that she was just a dog #and that somehow my grief isn’t fair compared to people who’ve actually lost someone #but she was my best friend. she was the one keeping me going when i wanted to give up #and god do i feel like giving up so much these days #she was my safety. my comfort. my home #and now i can never really go home #i’m hanging on to my other dog for dear life tbh. i love him so much #it’s not the same though. which doesn’t feel fair to him #none of this fucking feels fair #i just miss her. i miss her i miss her i miss her i miss her #personal - #pet death tw

[six-of-ravens]

okay, after a failed start this morning I woke up about half an hour ago, felt good enough to eat food, and I'm hoping that doing so won't make me have to lie down again...

#i desperately need to do laundry #it's like -15 and im sitting in my apt shivering in pj shorts bc my sweats and leggings are all dirty #also i of course did 0 cleanup after making that extremely messy stir fry last night so i need to clean the kitchen AGAIN! #and i forgot to put the leftover stir fry in the fridge 😭 so its all gone bad #anyway if the little demon voice in your brain says 'this was a hard week just drink a whole bottle of wine!' IGNORE IT. #smack your head against the wall a few times for the same effect #tho tbh usually wine doesn't destroy me this bad. this is what i get for buying $17 wine instead of $8 wine lmao

[one-way-dream]

oughg sorry

#was able to cry a little for the first time in weeks and it worked for a bit but now im. feeling kinda wack again #wish my depression could let me do things to get feelings out but i had to be cursed w executive dysfunction #biting and killing and maiming #i dont want to be whiny about it but aughfhffnghd #when barely anything sparks joy it is hard everything feels hard #i am tired of waking up like this but i don't really. have a right to complain #everything just makes me retreat further into myself i am tired #i don't really know why but i am #i dont think i was able to get the past year out of my system properly and #i keep having dreams about my sister and i and i keep waking up disturbed or anxious or sick or angry or annoyed #weird ass state of burnout and every day i wake up and go through the exact same cycle of just #trying to keep myself calm until i inevitably shut down from something minor in the afternoon and the intrusive s/h thoughts drive me insane #then the rest of my day is ruined so like a solid 12 hours until i can. be stable-ish again #i cannot even do things to get my mind off of it other than brain numbing shit like lets plays on yt #[shrek voice] they cant even afford therapy #something wrong with me and i cannot rly figure out what or if im being overly sensitive n dramatic about everything #nothing is even Happening irl and things are completely normal and fine for the first time in months snd yet? #jesus christ . WHY. #o|-< oughg #tee.xt #vent / #personal / #sory for farty rocking ill probably delete later if i remember

[medicaltechnician]

ive complained bout it before but i’ll do it again, its a problem of my own making

i have ostracized myself from my own friend group by getting sick of hockey. And being terrible at online communication. And texting. it sucks, i did this to myself. But i also just can’t bring myself to enjoy hockey as much as I did last year. Esp since I let it fucked my life up a little bit. And esp since I feel slight annoyance at the sport.

Mix in the NHL being shit league atm with its…. positions on things. And yeah, sort of hard to watch the games. Idk. I don’t know how to explain my position to everyone. And it’d feel stupid to cause, i didn’t really talk to begin with. Like here’s a funnt photo I pulled from like 2016

#ker talks #yes i used to go by adam #i need to clear out my camera roll omg its still filled with hockey like at least 1k photos #this photo sums up my entire social life its a little funny #its also funny that i’m extroverted #as in that i thrive off social situations and go insane without em but i dont talk to people #im a goddamn egnigma #idk how to spell that #im fucking hungry again i give up #yes i need to work on my social skills #scary but has to be done. i just idk #i cant do it online in person its so easy #i fucking hate online convos like idk #my dads the same way i think our brains just aint wired for text communication #i need in person or voice or visual or smth #text to me feels super impersonal (?) dont know if thats the right word #but most of the time I find it hard to gain an online frienship cause it idk feels weird #to the few online friends i’ve got love ya to death truely do think of ya as friends #literatly only started doing this online stuff tho like 2 years ago so. #im a baby