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lerolie · 2 years

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lie lie lie can i request you jean & yae miko (separate)

cute fluff. them being silly and stupid and silly stupid over a crush. basically how they pine over fem reader

minutes into hours | Jean, Yae Miko

Summary: they find their crush on you a little embarrassing... ah, if only they could help it.

Warning(s): fem reader. silly fluff. the ladies are crushing again (sighs).

A/n: i had a ton of fun writing this one, alice is really out here indulging my love of pining!! also psst happy early birthday miko <3

Jean Gunnhildr

Jean, wouldn't an assistant be helpful? Lisa had pleaded, pushing a list of applicants into her hands. Just... think about it, okay?

Oh, and 'think about it' she did. The problem with her train of thought concerning this assistant, however, seems to be in the selection she made.

You were a terrible choice for an assistant. After all, how could Jean pay attention to anything with someone as beautiful as you sitting only a desk away?

Every day in the office felt like torture after your addition. Not because you were a terrible colleague, no, of course not. After all, you were hand picked by Lisa herself; you were a perfect fit for the job. In fact, you may be a little too perfect.

"Hello, Jean," You say easily as you enter the Grandmaster's office, noticeably tired from the effort of completing paperwork the night before. You had both been stuck in the headquarters until late, suffering through work and eating dinner together.

Jean had tried very hard to not think of it as a date. After all, what kind of romantic atmosphere was a dusty office and takeout Good Hunter?

"Good morning. I hope you have slept well?" Jean asks hopefully. Perhaps a little too hopefully. Archons above, keep it together Jean! She thinks to herself.

"As well as can be expected, I'm only glad I had your company last night," You laugh softly, arranging the awaiting files at your desk before you sit down. Jean feels her mouth run dry. "It would have been much too unbearable otherwise."

"I-I'm glad as well!" Jean blurts stupidly. The lack of sleep must be getting to her, as she just keeps going, "working nights like that before having you as my assistant were more... taxing."

What an unassuming word for it, like Jean hadn't passed out sleeplessly on her desk more times than she can count.

You only smile, "I'm glad I'm here to take care of you, then."

Jean's eyes widen almost comically, and it causes you to choke out a laugh. She immediately reddens, demeanor all the more different from her usually composed attitude. It seems you have that effect on her.

Instead of prolonging her embarrassment, Jean just gets back to work, trying to forget how nice your laugh sounded to her ears.

Yae Miko

Yae Miko had become used to the monotonous routine of her duties.

Without Ei around to sate her boredom, Miko often found herself trying to find someone to fill that void; no matter how subconscious the urge may be. Her days went on as normal, teasing and deflecting and working... and yet, there was a hidden sadness lurking at the corners of her life. For what truly was her purpose, if not to dedicate her resources to the Electro Archon?

She likes to think she found another purpose with you.

You were an up and coming author who managed to catch the gaze of Miko and her editors. You were so starry eyed and idyllic; obviously enthralled by Miko and her charisma.

And, well, as much as Miko tried to hide it... perhaps... she felt the same.

But she could not be too sure. After all, she hadn't felt anything of the sort since she was centuries younger; fueled by emotions she didn't understand. But how else could she explain how often she wanted to be around you—the silent urge she felt sometimes to lean over and press a kiss to your lips. It was especially bad whenever you were talking about your work, determined and inexplicably lovely.

It was ludicrous, and oh so human. She is reminded of the many novels her authors create—how the forlorn love interest would pine so heavily for the oblivious main character.

How embarrassing, Miko thinks to herself, shaking the blush from her face. She would never live it down if someone were to see. After all, she does have a reputation to maintain. While she was currently nestled away in the corner of her office, any moment now someone could—

"Guuji Yae, good morning! I have my most recent manuscript ready for you." You smile as you hold open Miko's office door with your hip, a pile of papers almost as tall as you resting in your arms. Miko... really hadn't heard you approach? Was she that immersed in her own thoughts?!

Miko tries not to let it show how both lovely and devastating your sudden appearance is, allowing her normal facade to rush over her like refreshing water on a hot summer afternoon.

"Ah, yes, good morning dear," Miko smirks, gesturing to a side table reserved for larger deposits of paper. "Just set that right over there, I'll get to it by lunchtime."

Now, please, for my own sanity—leave. Miko begs silently, already dreading the way her gaze gravitates toward your tired eyes. A worry bubbles up within her much too quickly, and even with all her years of experience in social interaction, it takes a lot to keep herself from outwardly telling you to get more rest, now preferably. You know, I have been told my lap is an excellent substitute for a pillow before—

"Thank you so much again for taking the time to look over my manuscript before your other editors get to," You say sheepishly, and oh no, you were hovering. Miko tried not to cry out of frustration. "I feel much better knowing I have your advice to count on..."

That comment felt like a shot. To her heart. Oh, she was much too far gone, wasn't she?

It takes her entirely too long to fabricate a response that can sound like her 'normal' self, and that already is a terrible sign of what is in store. If she can't even handle compliments from you... archons, this is bad.

"Of course, anything for my beloved authors," Miko says simply, dismissively. This conversation has gone on for much too long, she can feel her facade cracking like a lavender melon under pressure. "Now, if you would please excuse me."

"O-of course!" You bow in farewell, and Miko has to hold in a sigh of relief. But, before you can turn and leave, your eyes happen to wander to the myriad of books, paper, and pens which litter Miko's desk. "But... Lady Yae, please be sure to not push yourself. Hard work is admirable, but so is resting afterwards," your smile is positively blinding. "Have a nice rest of your morning."

And then, as quickly as you had arrived, you were gone once again.

Miko sits there for a minute. And then two minutes. When she finally comes back to her senses, she buries her head in her hands. Her face is so hot she can feel it burning with her hands.

Perhaps this monotonous routine wasn't too bad... if you were to continue being apart of it each morning.

#lie's fics #yae miko x reader #yae x reader #jean gunnhildr x reader #jean gunhildr x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #yae miko #jean gunnhildr #genshin fanfic #genshin x you

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stripeyworm · 5 months

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your manic pixie dream girl and nightmare bad boy all in one I love binggeyuan sooo much. If I'm MIA, it's because I've fallen into quite the rabbit hole lately and going into hibernation!!

#my art #fan art #svsss #danmei #mxtx #binggeyuan #luo bingge x shen yuan #sorry i read so much good fic of them and it's ruined my life.#wolf boy that is a sopping wet dog x secretly very milfy otaku came for my NECK. won't lie!!#ough binghe we're in it now #been particularly mentally ill lately but this is my “nice” account so im hiding it in the tags #read nyoomerr's fics guys. pip is so good!!

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thenerdyalien · 10 months

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So I was getting lost in a Merlin Wiki rabbit hole, as one does, and I stumbled across the page for spells. And turns out the writers actually put a lot more thought into it than I initially thought (they're not actually just shouting random words in Old English). But what shocked me the most was learning what Merlin was actually saying to Arthur while he was unconcious in the Poisoned Calice episode. I always thought he was trying to enchant some sort of protection spell to keep Arthur safe while he couldn't be there for him. But turns out he was actually declaring poetry, POETRY to Arthur the whole time!

That's right, Merlin was declaring actual POETRY to Arthur on his deathbed!! I kept seeing the wiki mention verses from a book called Beowulf and I got curious so after a quick Google search, I found out that it's actually one of the most famous epic poems in Old English and I just lost it!! I never thought this episode could get any gayer...

#no i'm not normal about them #i just can't with these two #i didn't lie when i said i was deep in merthur brainrot #ill never get over this show #merthur #merlin #arthur x merlin #bbc merlin #bbc arthur #poetry #beowulf #fic research #what i do for fic purposes #merlin fic #1x04

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devilfic · 11 months

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part two to this because I can't stop thinking about them

you're actually really good at this.

miguel can count on one hand, maybe a few fingers less than that, the number of times he's met his match. not many could keep up with him, could take a blow from the full weight of his fist and stay standing, but you can. and you're relentless.

he could be shaking with rage and by the time he's spent sparring with you, you're still grinning with all the energy you had from when you first started. it's the thing that really excites you, he notices: the thrill of the chase, the struggle, the victory and defeat. because he never sees you get like that unless he's taking you. to the mat.

you get this feverish look in your eyes that he doesn't know how to satiate yet, but he likes testing your limits the same way you test his. he likes seeing that excitement on your face, it makes him keep coming back for more.

until he splits your cheek open.

you hadn't calculated correctly, hadn't considered how close his talon would come to your face until it had torn the skin beneath your eye in two. the blood dribbles down your cheek.

miguel's eyes go wild. when he first felt the resistance against his claw, he'd thought of much, much worse. he'd stood there, hand hovering between the two of you in a stunned silence waiting for something worse to happen. he watched the red pearl at the cut, so slim that had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have even hesitated, "shit."

you touch a finger to the blood, smearing it, "it's okay, it's nothing."

it is nothing. to anyone else in the spider society, it would be nothing. the super healing would kick in and wouldn't even scar. and he'd seen you heal before, had left bruises on you that mended themselves within hours.

he presses his thumb to the cut. a bead of your blood sits on the surface of his finger, a reminder that as strange and wonderful and powerful as you are, you bleed all the same. you watch him, curious, "you can have some. if you want."

his eyes flicker to you with that same shock from when you'd first caught him off guard, "what?"

you gesture to his thumb, "my blood. I don't mind it."

miguel stares, "I'm not a vampire."

"that's what gwen called you."

"I'm... spiders have fangs."

you frown, "then why-"

"are you sure you're okay?" miguel asks, even though he sees for himself that the blood has stopped. soon, your skin would sew itself back together. soon, this wouldn't even matter.

you soften. you melt. miguel doesn't know what to do with all the warmth in your expression... "of course. I can handle you, o'hara. no need to be gentle." and there you go again. you know exactly what you're doing when you say those words and look up at him like that. he feels hot under the collar. he presses his thumb into your cheek and smears the blood even more, but you just laugh, "I knew you had a soft spot for me."

his grumble is meant to be a growl—a warning—but he comes off sounding like a puppy who's bitten off more than he could chew, "not in this universe."

part three

taglist: @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @internal-soundtrack

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #marvel #mjwrites #rocking back and forth in a straight jacket: when it comes to a snack pack I can't lie I wanna ride (ride)

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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

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perfect wife

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, mating press, established relationship, marriage, housewife stuff? cooking and cleaning

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog

it’s not that you enjoy cleaning all the time, but you get in certain moods, when your energy level is high and you got enough sleep the night before, that you absolutely love to clean, especially satisfying deep cleans.

today happens to be one of those days, and ever since you woke up, smiling at the note that rafe left you on his pillow, wishing you a good morning and saying he regretted not being there with you upon waking up, but also couldn’t bear rousing you from your sleep when he had to leave for work. it makes your heart flutter to see it signed not by his name but rather ‘from, your husband.’

you’ve been married to rafe for two whole months now, and it feels like a fairytale, somehow even better than being his girlfriend. you feel like a truly good wife as you already scrubbed all the bathrooms spotless before 10 am, and are now working on the common areas before hopefully cleaning the bedroom before rafe gets home from work.

you hum along to the music you have playing throughout the house wide sound system as you wipe down dusty surfaces, taking care to clean all the little crevices that normally get missed.

time flies and before you realize, your stomach starts to grumble as noon rolls by. you take a pause from your work, having just finished the living room, and move into the kitchen, deciding to make yourself some food before getting to cleaning.

you love to bake, but cooking is not your favorite thing, so you make yourself something simple before you get a spark of creativity, making a stew to simmer so it would be ready by the time rafe got home around dinner. you finish your meal, having disregarded it halfway through to make the stew.

you clean the kitchen while stirring occasionally before it gets to the point that you can lower the temperature and walk away, now off to clean the bedroom. you grab rafes hamper, filled with clean clothes that he didn’t have time to put away last night, too busy kissing and cuddling with you in bed.

you dump them onto the freshly washed bedsheets, taking the time and care to crisply fold everything or hang up what went on hangers. you even spend some time organizing rafes closet. he kept it pretty clean already, but you wanted to make everything perfect.

you run downstairs to check your stew before continuing onto your closet, it being a much bigger mess than rafes. you have a terrible habit of trying on clothes, deciding its not want you want to wear for the day, and tossing it onto the floor instead of putting it properly away.

“baby!” you hear rafe shout just as you finish up. you quickly flatten your hands over the comforter on the bed, smoothing out any creases to make the room truly flawless before you rush down the stairs, greeting your husband with a kiss as your arms loop around his shoulders.

“something smells good.” rafe says, taking a sniff of the entryway, the smell of the stew having radiated throughout the whole house.

“i made you food.” you tell him, smoothing your hands over his shoulders, keeping your body close to his having missed him all day. “it should be ready in about 30 minutes, just enough time for you to shower.” you know rafes routine well enough, he liked to shower right when he got home from work, to wash the day away.

“you’re the most perfect wife ever.” rafe bends his head to press kisses to your neck, making you giggle when he focuses on your ticklish spot.

“go shower!” you shoo him away, wanting him to have the soup when it is nice and hot.

“love you, honey.” rafe kisses your cheek before heading up the stairs. you echo the words back to him before heading towards the kitchen to check on the stew, but pause when you hear rafe calling your name from your bedroom.

you rush up the stairs, worried that you maybe accidentally threw something out that was important or moved something and he didn’t know where it was.

“what is it rafey?” you question, eyes wide as you see him looking around the room.

“you cleaned all this while i was at work? and put away my laundry?” rafe questions, seeing that even the baseboards have been cleaned of the bit of dust that always collects on them.

you give a shrug. “i like cleaning for you.” “you know you don’t have to do all this baby.” rafe moves to wrap his arms around your waist. “i mean i appreciate it, but don’t feel like you’re required to now that we are married.” “i know.” you smile, cupping his jaw in your hands. “i seriously just wanted to.” “okay.” rafe nods, satisfied with your answer. he knows you get little bursts of cleaning, but doesn’t want you to get the wrong impression about your role, even if you do stay home while he is at work.

“go shower.” you press a kiss to rafes lips before leaving him in the bedroom, smirking to yourself knowing that he’s about to see that you cleaned the bathroom as well.

you return to the stovetop, stirring everything together before preparing the final touches, even setting out the perfect silverware for the occasion, choosing the dining room for such a meal rather than the island where you and rafe usually eat.

you jump when rafe enters the kitchen. he always moves so quietly through the house that it catches you off guard.

“god, if we weren’t already married i would propose to you all over again right now.” rafe wraps his arms around your waist as you work on ladling the stew into individual bowls, deciding to keep the rest in the pot on the stove for easy splitting up into tupperware later.

“i like making food for you.” you hum. “don’t expect it all the time though, i also love getting take out.”

rafe laughs and nods his head in agreement, you have a habit of ordering food at least two times a week, making it a tradition on fridays to watch an episode of tv while you eat in the living room.

“let me carry them in.” rafe stops you before you can carry the bowls yourself, picking them up and following you into the dining room.

you blow on your spoon to cool the stew as rafe begins to eat, commentating over and over how delicious it is, even going so far as to moan and roll his eyes back into his head, but when you take a bite you can’t help but admit that it’s very good.

“when we finish eating-” rafe says after a few minutes of silence, too engrossed in your meal. “i’m going to take you upstairs and fuck you.” “rafe!” you giggle at the sudden lewdness.

“i’m serious, baby. i need to after you did all this cleaning, put away my laundry and made me food? i need to put a baby in you immediately.”

“well… hurry up and get back to eating.” you gesture to rafe. you talked about having kids after marriage, but this was the first time since your wedding that rafe brought up actually bringing them into the world.

you both rush through the rest of your meals, leaving the dishes on the table to be taken care of tomorrow as rafe sweeps you into his arms, carrying you up the stairs with ease. he sets you down on the bed, his lips connecting with yours as he works on taking off his pants, throwing them in the general direction of his hamper before pulling away to pull your shirt off over your head.

“i can’t fucking wait to see you all filled up with my kid.” rafe says, massaging your breasts through your bra, unable to keep his hands off of them, even to take off the fabric covering them.

“need that so bad, rafey.” you whimper. you’ve always wanted to be a mom, and it feels like the perfect time to make that dream a reality.

“gotta fuck you now, princess.” rafe says, quickly taking his shirt off, his cock already completely hard as he pulls his underwear down, clearly excited to put a baby into you.

you reach behind your back to take your bra off before sliding your leggings and underwear down in one go, needing rafe just as desperately as he needs you. you move up the bed, resting your head on the pillow as rafe moves to hover over you.

“i would eat you out or finger you but i need this right now.” rafe says, reaching down to rub at your clit as his tip presses against your entrance.

“i need you right now too.” you tell him, letting out a moan as he pushes in, moving slowly to let you adjust. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, rafes chest heaving with deep breaths, trying to control himself.

“you can move.” you tell rafe after a minute. he doesn’t give even a second for your comment to sit before he is thrusting in and out, making your joint moans echo throughout the room.

rafe presses sloppy kisses against yours, lips vibrating together when you’re both unable to hold back your noises of pleasure. “feels so good.” you whimper, his thumb still rubbing against your clit, never stopping making you feel good.

“i know it does, princess.” rafe says. “you’re doing so good for me. gonna fill you up real good.” “you’re gonna be the best daddy.” you tell rafe, and its true, you know just from the way he treats you, how he straightened out and takes care of you, that he’s going to be an amazing dad.

“fuck-” rafe curses, somehow able to move faster, slamming in and out of you, annihilating your cunt with the ferocity he is thrusting into you at. rafe is grunting with the effort he is giving as you grip his shoulders tightly, sure to leave red marks from your nails come morning.

“gonna go fucking crazy, your pussy is so good.” rafe says, as if he hasn’t already gone crazy with the way he’s fucking into you.

“keep rubbing rafe, i’m close.” you moan, back arching off the bed as his thumb rubs over your clit easily due to your slick.

“cum for me princess.” rafe begs you, needing to feel your cunt squeeze around him. you’d never deny your husband as he rubs you to orgasm, entire body shaking as your high hits you, moaning wildly as rafes cock maintains its blistering pace.

as soon as your clit pulses underneath his finger and your back settles back against the bed, rafe moves, pulling out briefly to reposition you, slotting his hands underneath your knees and pushing your legs up and open, spreading your cunt wide for him before his cock reenters you.

he begins to thrust immediately, keeping up the aggressive, feral pace. you’re so sensitive from your orgasm but you can’t complain when you know he’s working to get his cum inside of you, to fill you up, to grow your family.

“gonna cum.” rafe warns briefly, his words slurred out, his eyes half lidded from the ecstasy of your cunt as he pushes in for a final time, shooting his cum as deep as he can, leaning forward and pressing you into the mattress, not even caring as your thighs burn from the stretch.

rafe grinds himself into you until there is nothing more to release, moving your legs back to a more comfortable position but keeping his dick buried deep inside of you.

rafe looks at you with a smile, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. “gotta make sure it takes.”

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nariism · 4 months

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another sunny day — i. rin

handcuffed together + matchmaking gone wrong

synopsis. rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. or: blue lock tries to play matchmaker with a flustered loser and their terribly unfriendly teammate.

wc. ~1.1k

— for @jenoutof10 🤞 | event masterlist ✉️

"don't be mad, but..."

rin's eye twitches.

4 words. 4 measly words is all it takes for his blood pressure to start rising. that, and the fact that isagi can't meet his bloodthirsty gaze.

in all the time that he's had the displeasure of knowing these morons, he's come to know one simple fact: nothing good ever happens when they break news starting with 'don't be mad'.

before his teammates can even get a chance to explain further, rin interjects.

"you lost it, didn't you? you fucking lost it."

bachira's lips just press into a thin line, mischief missing from his expression where it usually permanently dances. now, he just looks utterly terrified and a little guilty.

"hey, but there are worse people to be cuffed to!" bachira nervously states. and at that, all eyes land on you.

you'd been hoping that maybe rin's temperment would have drawn all attention away from you right now—that they at least wouldn't have to witness the absolute despair in your face realizing you've been cuffed to your long-term crush for an indefinite amount of time.

but their eyes are heavy on you, trying to scrutinize your reaction. you want nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

the chains connecting you jingle impossibly loud as silence fills the room. you flounder slightly, caught off guard by the collective weight of everyone's eyes, and rin seems to understand how dire your situation is. he quickly gathers everyone's attention back to himself.

"you all better crawl on your hands and knees until you find that fucking key."

to think that an entire group of people could have gone through with something so stupid—rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. handcuffing the two of you together as a last ditch attempt to solve the last puzzle of their escape room? he would probably be laughing at their idiocy if he wasn't the one locked to your side right now.

and why him, of all people? was it so obvious that he was maybe, kind of, sort of a little into you? no, impossible. he's incredibly good at hiding his feelings for you, so much that he's completely stone-faced while you're busy panicking beside him.

what should have been an innocent team-building exercise put together by their calm and collected manager has suddenly turned you into a blithering fool and him into a cranky asshole.

he'd always had suspicions that you'd liked him, never able to look him straight in the eye without fidgeting and messaging him out of the blue for seemingly insignificant reasons. ("did you try the new garigari-kun flavour?" or "i saw this cat that reminded me of you," and even "did you eat dinner yet?")

if you had told his teammates, you made a grave error. a fatal mistake. because they were all half-wits who would want nothing more than to try playing cupid, and he knows that only they could come up with a plan so stupid and still claim it to be foolproof.

frantically searching for the key, they get to work scouring the floor and drawers—anywhere they could have left it in the last twenty minutes. he takes the opportunity to focus on his breathing, as his therapist had advised him to do when he was feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"you okay?" rin asks quietly, lathering a hand down his face in exasperation. you hum nervously, clutching yourself instinctively. it draws his hand closer to your body but he doesn't mention it, instead letting it dangle limply in front of you. the warmth emanating from you makes him realize just how frazzled you are.

he decides he should guide you to the next room where it's quieter, all the puzzles already solved and abandoned. he sits you down on the sofa, standing in front of you with your hands connected in the middle.

"what if we're locked together forever?" you murmur.

rin looks at you in confusion, perplexed by your sudden loss of functioning brain cells. you were always so rational, it's strange to see you so...

you meet his intense stare and the rest of his train of thought derails into a disastrous dumpster fire.

"i... don't think that'll happen."

"but what if we are?"

"there are worse people i could be locked to."

silence suffocates you. rin blinks at you, but doesn't back down as you fumble over your own tongue.

"you think so?" you finally manage out.

god almighty, you need to break this eye contact before he shrivels up and dies. okay, so maybe his feelings for you aren't entirely miniscule, but that doesn't mean he's going to get any enjoyment out of this.

he scoffs, gesturing to the next room. "at least it's you and not them."

you sputter in embarrassment, hand yanking toward your face as you try and cover your cheeks with your palms. his hand follows, nearly smacking you in the nose but you don't seem to care or even notice.

he slowly seats himself beside you, dragging your conjoined hands back between your bodies and settling on the couch.

"i hate this," you admit. "it feels claustrophobic."

rin knows exactly what you mean. your hand is inches away from being in his—he can hardly breathe. he would rather eat natto every day for the rest of his life than come to terms with that, though, so instead he just sneers at you funny.

"you have claustrophobia?"

"i just mean that we're so close right now."

"so?"

you gulp loudly. "and—" you sigh, breaths shaking. "well, you're sort of right. i guess it could be worse."

"...you're weird," he tells you.

your lips quirk up into a tiny smile, so small that he would have missed it if he weren't chained to your side right now. for a moment, he almost forgets all about why he's even in this situation in the first place.

"sorry," you stammer, fingers fumbling around with the hem of your sweater. "i hope they find that key soon."

he stares at you for a few more seconds, tries to trace the outline of your face with his eyes and memorize the curve of your smile.

"yeah," he lies. "me too."

("is it working?"

"i don't know, i can't hear them!"

"shh," chigiri hisses. "i'm trying to listen!"

rin puts his head into his hands at their volume, bringing your hand along with his motion. he glares in their direction, catching a glimpse of his team stacked on top of each other as they peer into the room.

"idiots..." he mutters. you look at him, puzzled. "i'm surrounded by idiots.")

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herman-draws · 6 months

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well, this thing was bound to happen sometime: here's my fanart and some doodles for @queruloustea's fic "that makes two of us, then"

I'M ENJOYING IT SO MUCH THIS IS LIKE THE FIC OF MY DREAMS SERIOUSLY

I LIVE FOR SEEING THESE TWO IDIOTS INTERACT WITH EACH OTHER /aff

#i can't convey how glad i am that there's FINALLY a great fic focused on their interactions #im normal about them i promise (lie)#hollow knight #the hollow knight #hk hollow #quirrel #hk quirrel #im like 90% sure i got the pose wrong on the first pic tbh #i hope it's not too bad at least #quirrelhollow #(btw im not using it as a ship tag necessarily #just for their dynamic overall)

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nomazee · 29 days

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close to your heart and that bed of yours too

you've been having the same weird dream about dan heng, over and over, and it just so happens that he's had the same dream, too.

dan heng x gn reader — 2.4k — super suggestive content but definitely nothing serious or graphic, some guilt abt attraction, dreams, romantic fantasies but not weird ones, kissing and closeness and physical touch, literal sleeping together

notes: forgive me and my debaucherous writing... this is nowhere near smut but it's definitely suggestive they get touchy and feely but it's very emotions-focused...oh my god what did i write this is so

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

It’s probably not possible to get cabin fever on a constantly-running space train, but that’s the only reasonable explanation for the weird, weird recurring dream you’ve been having about Dan Heng. It’s not— not that weird, not weird enough that you feel like a complete deviant, but enough for you to realize that it’s a complete reflection of your innermost thoughts and desires, and that scares you more than anything.

The dream— it goes like this:

You wake up—not in real life, but in the dream world, which freaked you out the first time because you didn't realize you were dreaming at all so you thought everything was entirely real—and it’s usually because of the noise of your door sliding open. The instinct to look and see who it is doesn’t hit you. You lay there, gaze fixed distantly on the steel surface of your ceiling until the feeling of your bedsheets moving next to you pushes you to full awareness.

You still don’t move your gaze until you feel a body—warm, breathing, real real real?—lift up your blankets and slide underneath them, pressing next to you, curling into your side as if seeking out your life source. Your breath catches in your throat every single time as you turn to see that it’s Dan Heng, still dressed in his work clothes because he doesn’t understand the concept of pajamas, and his arm reaches around you and curls around your shoulder and he rests his head on your collarbone, gently, and you can feel his breath fan against the fabric of your shirt and your skin.

Dan Heng says your name with reverence, with something like desire, and it makes your stomach clench and he turns his body into you more. He tucks his leg between yours—not moving, just sitting there, a reminder of him, his warmth—and he’s so, so warm, it amazes you that he’s like a furnace, and that he’s so unbothered by laying so close to you under all of your blankets.

And he says your name again, each and every time, and it spurs something in you and you bring your arms around him each and every time, and pull him close, and feel the way he shudders, like a cold breeze wracking his body, like he’s never been this close to anyone before, and it dawns on you that he probably hasn’t—and that thought alone spirals into the realization that Dan Heng would never do this—

And then you wake up. Each time.

The first time it happened, you didn't realize it was a dream, and you were so overwhelmed with thought after thought and feeling after feeling and sensation after sensation. When you finally woke up, it felt like you were grieving a loss. You felt too cold, and too empty, and curled into yourself and laid in your bed for an hour taking in shaky breaths until you finally got over yourself.

You couldn't face Dan Heng for that entire day. Which was fine, because he spent his whole day in his room shuffling through the archives, so he was easy to dodge. But then you dreamt of him again. And again, and again, and then it just became a part of your nighttime routine to dream of your own friend so intimately and then wake up and pretend like nothing matters and nothing changed. Pretend like you didn't feel anything, and pretend like these dreams didn't flood you with guilt about your sick sick feelings and your sick sick fantasies.

You tried to rationalize it, make yourself feel less awful. The dreams never went past him laying beside you, for the most part, and you preferred it that way. If they got any more intimate than they already were, you would’ve thrown yourself off the Express the next morning.

Regardless, the Dan Heng in your dream and the Dan Heng that you saw every morning were different people, because the Dan Heng you saw every morning would never get so close to you. Would never lay in your bed and breathe on your neck like that.

Never. That distinction is the only thing that convinces you to let yourself dream. You indulge, and it’s sickening, but you let your dreams happen over and over, and each time you hold Dan Heng tighter and tighter and tighter, and let him breathe against your neck, and feel the rush of his blood circulating through his body.

One night, in one iteration of this dream, Dan Heng kisses you. It feels so real that it makes you nauseous. His lips were warm and damp and clumsy against the corner of your mouth, and he let out anxious breaths until you tangled your hands in his hair and tugged him closer and kissed him back.

You woke up sick, running to your bathroom to puke in the sink as your hands shook in guilt. Somehow, you could still talk to Dan Heng normally that day, stomach twisting only the slightest bit whenever your gaze lingered on him for too long.

Welt might have noticed how weird you were acting. There was a nagging furrow in his brow and he caught your gaze more than once and each time, you felt waves of humiliation crash into you, flooding you in heat and guilt and vertigo. He looked like he wanted to pry in that odd, awkward, old-man-paternal way of his, but you just shook your head and looked away and begged, hoped, wished upon a star that you would have a normal dream tonight.

The night— it goes like this:

You lay in your bed, staring at your ceiling, leftover remnants of guilt swimming in your lungs and nightly congestion forcing you to take shallow breaths through your mouth. Thoughts run through your mind and slam into your skull at rapid speed. Has Dan Heng noticed how weird you’ve been acting? He hasn’t treated you any differently, but maybe it’s out of pity. Maybe you haven’t been paying enough attention, because you’re so busy replaying that dream over and over and over, obsessive, wondering if you should just let go of the rope you’re suspended on and slam into the water and drown in your wants and your needs.

So you close your eyes, and you let yourself drift off and wake back up in your dream. You’re on your side now, instead of on your back, and the door is on the far wall behind you. You still hear it slide open, as it always does in this dream, and the footsteps get closer until you hear the shuffling of someone kneeling behind you. And then there’s nothing.

Your blankets don’t get lifted up. There’s no warm body tucking itself next to you. But there’s— a voice, Dan Heng’s voice, and your heart sinks into your stomach as you hear the pitch of his voice, the vibrations of sound.

“Are you awake?”

Your brow furrows, and you clench and unclench your fists twice before parting your dry, trembling lips. He’s never spoken in a dream before, not like this. He’s only ever said your name. Your fingers twitch with the instinct to pinch yourself.

“Yes,” you respond, hoping that the confusion isn’t clear in the timbre of your voice. “What’s— is something wrong?”

“No,” he says immediately. Clothes rustle as he adjusts himself. You’re scared to turn around and face him. You don’t know what you’d see. “You…” and he pauses, thinking of his words. Dan Heng would rather take a full minute to think about what to say, what words to pick, instead of stumbling over syllables, and it’s so unlike your own habits and as you think of this, your fingers twitch again. This time with the desire to hold his hand, because that’s what you’re supposed to do in this dream, but everything feels too real now and you don’t know where you are.

Finally, he finds his words. You’re patient with him. “I can’t sleep alone,” he whispers, as if embarrassed to admit it, “not tonight. I trust you.”

God. He can’t say that. He shouldn’t say that, because your head is spinning and you’re going to throw up. Your hand finds the strength to pick itself up and pinch the skin of your forearm. You’re not dreaming.

“Yeah,” you cough out, sniffling afterwards to cover up your budding anxiety as you finally sit up and turn to face him. “Yeah, you can, um. Sleep here.”

When he finally enters your field of vision, he looks the same as he always does—both in your dreams and in real life. It makes you sick. The guilt that you feel now comes more from the fact that he’s still in his typical outfit instead of pajamas.

“Dan Heng,” you start as you shuffle back on your bed to make space for him. He follows your motion, kneeling on the edge of your mattress before adjusting the sheets around you to tuck himself underneath and lay down. “We need to get you pajamas. I don’t know how you sleep like that.”

“I don’t sleep,” he admits, “not usually. I don’t need a lot of sleep.”

“You do. You might not think so, but you probably do. I wish I had a spare set of pajamas, but— they’re all, um, in the wash right now.”

“It’s okay. Your blankets are nice.”

Words tingle against your gums, syllables of confessions lighting up in your mouth. You want to tell him that a dream-version of him has slept under a copy of these blankets multiple times before, that you’ve dreamed for weeks about him curled into you and sleeping, and saying your name, and kissing the corner of your mouth. Right now, you’re just laid side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, but you can feel how warm he is and his hand is so close to yours and you just want to hold it. You want him to say your name and look at you and hold your hand.

“Good,” you say instead of everything else that you could say, because you have a sense of self control at times.

Then Dan Heng says your name, rolling onto his side to face you, hands tucked underneath the side of his face in a stupidly endearing sleeping position. You follow suit, because your self control isn’t that strong. He doesn’t say anything else. Just your name, once. With reverence and desire. Maybe you’re dreaming it, but you pinch your knuckles again and yet you’re still in the same room with the same man in front of you.

One of your arms is bent between you two, hand resting on the pillow that separates you two. Dan Heng’s own hand—warm, and breathing, and real— comes up to rest on top of yours, and you cannot believe any of this is happening. You want to pinch yourself again but his hand is curling around yours and he’s inching forward and you hope that your deer-in-headlights expression doesn’t scare him off.

“Dan Heng,” you whisper, voice cracking with an embarrassing desperation. It’s a warning for him, before he does whatever he’s about to do. But he says your name, again, and his face is so close to yours that you can feel every breath fan against your face, and your entire body is warmed and your hand flips over to hold his, fingers slipping between his and tightening around it.

“Have you had these odd dreams these last few nights,” he asks, a leading tone in his voice, “because I have. About you,” and he’s too honest, and you have to swallow your saliva before it turns into sweat and blood, and you feel his hand squeeze back around yours. His is shaking, and you find some kind of comfort in knowing that you’re not the only one.

“Yeah,” you answer, because you can’t get more than one syllable out at a time tonight. Could anyone blame you? Would Dan Heng blame you for that, afterwards, even though his face is so close and his hand is so warm and it’s tight around you, and he’s shuffling around again, constantly fidgeting, and he takes his other arm and slides it around you, hand between your shoulder blades. He hooks a leg between yours, tugging you closer and closer and closer. You’re blinking at him, heart caught in your throat and eyes landing on his lips so that maybe he’ll finally take the hint.

He does. He does, and as cliche as it is, it’s better than your dream. He kisses you, desperate, and right before your eyes flutter shut you catch the contemplative furrow in his brow. His mouth is—warm, damp, but you feel the crack in the skin in the center of his bottom lip. It scrapes against you and you can’t help the shaky sigh you release at the feeling, and the hand on your back curls into the fabric of your sleep shirt.

Your eyes are closed, tight, scared that if you open them, you’ll just wake up back in your room, alone and cold again with your empty steel ceiling. Dan Heng’s mouth is moving against yours with a practiced proficiency that you’re almost jealous of. You let your tongue trace the edges of his teeth, carnal in your desires, before you bite down on his lip hard enough to leave a temporary dent. He shudders, hand trembling against yours and lips pulling back from yours as he tucks his head into your neck and lets out shaky breaths lines with addictive sounds. You’re going crazy. He’s driving you crazy.

The hard, carved metal parts of his clothes dig into you. Your hand goes around him to rest on the back of his head, threading through his hair as his breathing slows against you. “We can go shopping somewhere tomorrow,” you tell him, already thinking of how you’d convince Pom-Pom to land at some shopping district of some planet. “You need pajamas.”

“There’s no need for me to have that,” he says, stubborn and set in his ways, even with something as mundane as sleep clothes. “My normal clothes are fine.”

“Not if you’ll be sleeping in my bed.”

And that makes him succumb to your whims, much too easy for your own good, and you laugh when he lets out a weary sigh at your reciprocal stubbornness. Your fingers keep combing through his hair, soft and meaningful, until he falls asleep. You think you'll get him a blue plaid pajama set. He'd look nice in it.

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artieststuff · 10 months

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James, who loves with his whole heart, his achilles heel. James, who doesn’t love boys: Regulus’ achilles heel.

#i drew a little something something #they’ve brainrotted me okay?#drawing fanart for my own fic? more likely than u think #jegulus #jegulus fanart #fic: oh my love is a lie!

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sirmanmister · 5 months

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MacCready not beating the generational trauma allegations 😔😔😔

#sketch that turned into a bigger sketch #I have so many emotion about him <3 #I wanna write a whole 90k word fic about him farming #let me depict him being cringe fail at canning pls I won’t be weird #me when I lie #anyway yeah I’m stupid abt him and also pls zoom in on the bear #it has the little lamplight hat 🥳#fallout 4 #rj maccready #MacCready #fallout #fallout 3 #fallout 4 fanart #fallout fanart #fallout 3 fanart #rj MacCready fanart #MacCready fanart #serenade draws

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lerolie · 2 years

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Falling for you | Keqing, Jean, Kujou Sara

Summary: “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Warnings: reader has an unspecified gender. silly fluff. they are pining so hard!!!

A/n: shoutout to the groupchat, y'all make me lose my sanity a bit more every day (in a nice way though).

Keqing

• she thinks she's being subtle, but in reality, she's about as elusive as an inazuman firework.

• at first, you were almost sure you were imagining things. after all, why would the yuheng be looking at you with such unadulterated affection? she didn't even know you. well, not really.

• you were a secretary for lady ningguang, and so it wasn't uncommon for you and keqing to be in the same room—even for long periods of time. but you had never even spoken, and the close proximity only made her staring all the more obvious.

• you wondered many things. was your hair out of place? no, you had just checked it in the mirror. was there food stuck in your teeth? she wasn't close enough to see. perhaps you had suddenly transformed into a slime, and you didn't notice nor did anyone else in the room besides keqing?

• so, safe to say, you were in a deep pit of denial. until you weren't. and then that only complicated things further.

• "You're not as subtle as you think you are, miss yuheng," you had said her one day, voice sounding more frustrated than you meant it to be. you only hoped the yuheng would be quick in disposing of your life. "I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice."

• but instead of the furious rebuttals you had expected, keqing had blushed furiously, from her cheeks to her forehead to her ears. it was so cute, and you tried really hard to muffle an audible 'aww'.

• "m-my apologies," keqing stutters since when did the beloved yuheng of the liyue qixing stutter, "i never meant to make you uncomfortable."

• "you didn't—" you say much too quickly, before gathering yourself. "ahem, you didn't."

• "ah... then... would you perhaps consider allowing me to take you on a date...?"

• and if the yuheng being so obviously infatuated with your appearance wasn't enough of an ego booster, her adorable date invitation definitely was. you accepted, of course, and to this day keqing still blushes whenever you bring up her little crush.

Jean Gunnhildr

• she is your beloved friend, the acting grandmaster, but you often wonder when jean will stop pretending like she doesn't want more.

• it's been years of her watching you from afar, gaze full of love and admiration like nothing you've ever seen; should it be from a storybook or real life. jean is painfully obvious with her affections, whether she notices it or not, and it's driving you mad.

• you wanted her to approach you herself, for your wayward dandelion knight to sweep you off your feet and carry you off into the sunset—but it seems that is simply an errant dream.

• today, you had a mission. and nothing was going to get between you and that goal. the start to a new year was the perfect setting, after all. there was no time like the present!

• "ah, good morning," jean had welcomed you with a smile once you had stepped foot in her office, her appearance frazzled. "i'm truly sorry i couldn't welcome you earlier, i've been so caught up with—"

• "i know how you feel about me," you interrupted, "I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice. and... jean, you have to know i feel the same."

• silence. dead, painfully still silence.

• never before had you regretted something you've said harder than in that moment.

• the look on jean's face could be comical if you hadn't just spilled your feelings all over her nice office floors. she looks frozen, as if you had just gained a cryo vision and subsequently used your first burst of power to inconvenience her.

• "really?" jean suddenly speaks up, shocking you out of your stupor. "you feel the same way?"

• your voice comes out as completely exasperated. "of course i do, jean, i've been waiting for yea—"

• maybe you shouldn't be so surprised when your knight leans over her desk to pull you into a kiss, but you're surprised nonetheless. you sure hope no one needs her help right about now.

Kujou Sara

• for all her serious demeanor and stressful work, you would think sara has a solid grip on her self control. but it seems, at least when it comes to you, her famous composure suffers.

• you weren't exactly sara's second in command, especially in name—but you consider yourself very important to her. in terms of war, of course. but friendship-wise? you didn't even know the tengu's favorite color.

• which is why you find her gaze on you so strange.

• perhaps she herself doesn't even realize it. after all, the general was not known for her stellar social skills. or maybe you just happened to catch her eye? it could just be a coincidence.

• those pitiful excuses lasted within the confines of your head for about a week before you promptly stomped them out. this was happening much too often for these to be the only explaininations.

• whether you were tightening a bowstring, or eating breakfast, or simply nodding off during a conversation, sara's eyes were trained on you. it would be unnerving if it didn't bring such a vibrant blush to your cheeks when you thought of how her eyes trailed over your face.

• you often take it upon yourself to train with sara. she doesn't exclaim it aloud, but you're sure she appreciates the company. today, the inazuman sun is scorching and heavy on your backs.

• sword training was always it's own endeavor. it called for close contact, heavy blows and precise movements. you often found yourself taking breaks, especially once the sun was high in the sky.

• you called off the exchange of blows, muttering something about how you needed a drink of water. sara stands there stoically, as if she were prepared to stay there until nightfall; the picture of statuesque grace.

• "...sara?" you call after your particularly heavy swig, wiping away the droplets of water that remained around your mouth. "you sure you don't need a drink?"

• you didn't think she heard you, her stone face only staring as you continued to wait for a response. only then do you notice how her eyes trail to the column of your throat.

• ah. so it's like that.

• "sara," you say with an air of breathless disbelief. is she really being this straightforward? your tired legs trail over to the starstruck general, your pitiful training sword falling into the dirt of the training ground.

• only now do her eyes gain some sort of clarity, when your hand is against her cheek and your eyes are staring straight into her own.

• “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice," your voice is nothing but a whisper, "please, sara, just say something."

• "you..." she looks so awkward, archons bless her soul, "you're... really pretty."

• you hope sara forgives you for not asking her permission before pulling her into a kiss—but based off of the way she leans into it and pulls you close... you don't think she minds.

#lie's fics #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin imagines #sara kujou x reader #kujou sara #kujou sara x reader #keqing #keqing x reader #jean gunnhildr #jean gunnhildr x reader

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atissi · 9 months

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my very kind and patient friend @thesweetestclementine read my 19 page dissertation on jester/leper and then wrote me a fic for my birthday. this is my fanart for it hehehe

#i shan't go into detail because it makes me very embarrassed. but it's a good fic.#yknow logistically dd2 jester's white fingertips make no sense? but i cannot lie. its great for visual clarity #my art #darkest dungeon #jester/leper

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strangersteddierthings · 4 months

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In the 19 years Steve's lived in this house, never once has he slammed his front door like that. Too scared of his parents' wrath should it have caused any damage.

It feels good.

He almost turns around to do it again, a fuck you to his parents and every decision they ever forced on him, but then he remembers. They're all in there. Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, Robin. In his living room, making declarations and decisions about Steve's life for him. Or, well, one of them is.

Like his parents do. Did?

He didn't grab his keys, wallet, or even his coat, but he's not going back for them. It's cold, sure, but Steve's sure his anger will keep him warm until he reaches a destination. Any destination.

He just doesn't understand why- Why they keep doing this to him.

Why he keeps letting them.

No. No, that's a lie. He keeps letting them because he knows, deep down, he's not a fighter. Not for himself.

He'll put himself between the ones he loves and danger in a heartbeat; he's done that since the first time he watched a petal-faced monster peel its way out of the Byers' wall in '83.

But his parents trained the fight right out of him when it came to himself. It was easier to not argue, to just do what they wanted. They'd smile at him when he was good. They'd take him with on shorter business trips when he behaved. His mom would even allow a quick hug if he impressed a shareholder with how well-mannered and quiet he was.

He won their affections with obedience.

He's never- Nancy and he love each other now, but in the same way they all love each other after having survived the horrors the Upside Down. But Nancy never loved him the way he'd once loved her. That was bullshit.

Even Robin and Dustin. He knows they love him now. Will love him forever, going forward, but both had admitted to having a predetermined idea of who Steve was and what he was like and they weren't wrong but they also weren't right because Steve's never been Steve a goddamn day in his life.

Steve hadn't even known Steve until monsters came into his life.

The way everyone used to refer to him as the Steve Harrington was a judgement all its own. A thing that he was, and had no say to be otherwise.

Even Eddie, in the Upside Down, and now, in his own house.

Steve finally feels like he might be becoming who he really is and he's surrounded by friends and it just made him stupid. He'd thought it was confidence, when he pulled Eddie aside to talk, to confess, but then-

Eddie telling him he's confused. Like Steve is a child learning new concepts and not an adult who has been questioning how he feels about men since he first noticed other boys in middle school.

Eddie telling him, 'you don't want this, man. Not really.'

It's not fair.

Robin came out to him, and he'd just wanted to make her laugh so she would quit looking so scared. Eddie came out to him, and Steve had thanked him for trusting him. Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle confess to all dating each other and Steve congratulated them. But Steve comes out and gets told he's confused?

And Steve didn't even refute it. Just got so hurt he couldn't be there anymore. Left his own house because he'd told Eddie he had a crush on him, and asked if he'd like to go on a date sometime and Eddie said no and told him he was confused.

Eddie doesn't get to decide that for Steve! No one but himself can decide if he like guys or not. No one gets to tell him he's confused about what he's feeling.

It's- that's bullshit, is what it is!

Steve turns on his heel and marches back to his house. His hurt has fully morphed to anger now.

Steve hasn't run away from a fight since '83, and he's not going to start now.

He rips his front door open and is greeted to everyone just inside the door, in various states of putting their winter clothes back on. All the faces look concerned, but he scans for Eddie's.

Eddie who looks relieved for all of two seconds, when it seems to dawn on him that Steve is angry, and it's directed at him.

"The appropriate response," Steve growls as he steps through his door and punctuates those words by slamming it shut again. (It's not as satisfying this time, because he sees how it makes his friends jump.) He barrels on with his words, eyes never leaving Eddie, "when someone comes out to you, is to say 'thanks for telling me' or perhaps even 'thanks for trusting me' or, if one is so inclined, to just say 'cool, dude' but you don't get- you don't get to tell me I'm confused!"

Eddie takes a step back, knocking directly in Argyle, who steadies him, but he doesn't say anything.

Maybe Steve should be more calm about this, given the audience, but he's not able to stop the words now that they've started. "I'm not confused, and I know exactly what I'd be getting into. You don't get to- to try and make your rejection my fault. If you don't wanna date me, just say so. But you don't get to try and tell me how I feel about you!"

From the corner of his eye, he can see Nancy trying to subtly shift herself and Jonathan away from the door, probably to get out of what really should be a private conversation, but Jonathan's a bit preoccupied by catching Robin around the waist as she lunges towards Eddie.

"What the fuck did you say, Munson!" Robin growls, arms swinging out like she's going to claw Eddie to death.

Argyle has inched back a bit, putting distance between him and Eddie in case Robin breaks free. "You dudes should probably talk this out in private."

"Byers, if you don't let me go right now-"

"Robbie, I got this," Steve says, because Robin shouldn't be turning on Jonathan when he's done nothing wrong. Robin continues to glare at Eddie for a few seconds before she makes eyes contact with Steve. He raises his brows slight -I got this- and she furrows hers -are you sure?-, so he tilts his head -yes, really- and she deflates in Jonathan's arms and allows him to drag her away.

"We'll just be in the rec room," Nancy says, looping her arm through Argyles and following after Jonathan.

Eddie doesn't bolt, which is a bit more than Steve expected. They both just stare at each other until they hear the click of the rec room door.

"Steve-"

"That was fucked up, Eddie," Steve interrupts.

"Yeah. It was," Eddie says, but doesn't offer up more, even though Steve is waiting for an apology.

"That kind of reaction is exactly why I didn't come out sooner. What would be the fucking point if no one even believed me? Or worse, if you'd given me that kind of reaction like, six months ago, I probably never admit to liking guys out loud ever again. You can't just- you can't decide this kind of shit for other people!"

"I know! I- I freaked out, and panicked, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Steve," Eddie says, and he sounds sincere and looks almost fragile while saying it that Steve loses a bit of his steam. He doesn't want to just keep yelling at Eddie.

"Yeah. Well. Thanks for apologizing," Steve mutters, crossing his arms with a huff.

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he seems to gather all his courage and says, "have I fucked everything up between us?"

"No. Not- I'm going to, like, need some time to get over my crush, but no. It's- it'll just be take time-"

"No! I mean, I can't- if you don't, uh, like me like that anymore I get it, but I- what I meant was. Well. No, I guess that answered my question."

Steve is confused, now. For real, and not about his sexuality. "What?"

"What?"

"You did it again. Deciding for me if I liked you or not."

"Shit. Fuck! Sorry," Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. "I'm fucking this up so bad."

"Than use, like, real, whole sentences and speak to me!"

"I like you!" Eddie blurts. "I have a crush on you, too, but I- I fucked it up!"

"Yeah. Kinda."

Eddie makes a really pathetic noise at that.

"Not so much we can't, like, figure it out, though," Steve offers. "Not, like, right now, because I'm hurt and angry, but like, I'm not going to stop liking you because of one fight. Not. Uh, not now that I know you like me, too."

"Oh," Eddie whispers, then frowns. "For real?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I said it, didn't I?"

"Sorry, it's just, just good things don't happen to me. It's- I'm processing, okay."

Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh and heads towards the rec room. "If you want to leave to 'process' alone, I get it, but you're welcome to stay. We can get this party re-started and hang out."

Eddie's silent a moment, and Steve thinks he's going to ask if Steve's sure, but instead he gets a quiet, "yeah. I'd like to stay." and the sound of Eddie's footsteps following him to the rec room.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss

#steddie #pre-steddie more accurately #my fic #we have a lot of fic where it feels like the miscommunication is just one character deciding how the other feels #and i LOVE that trope. The angst of it all it just *chefs kiss*#but I dont think steve would let people get away with telling him how he feels #i think hed get hurt and then angry #so i wrote it #thats a lie. this STARTED as that trope (i even warned the discord babes) but while I wanted steve to stay sad instead he got mad \:#so its not actually the story i wanted to tell but it's the one i got

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