#like. not only is paying rent going to be harder with only two people. now i get to go home and not ONLY tell my mother

[cybunii]

HIDE AND SEEK

“Let's play a little game and have fun”

a/n: so glad this is finally finished >< I do have a part two planned but I have NO idea when that would come out. this is the longest thing i have written so far- pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN! Reader tw: stalking, dub/non-con, slight mentions of somnophilia, intercrural sex/thigh fucking, gaslighting, murder and drugging, Leon is a prick :3, obsessive and manipulative behavior, possible kidnapping, etc.

-

It was safe.

You lived in a relatively small town, and never seeing any reports of kidnapping or murders on your TV made life easy to live. The worst things to happen were food shortages because of the slow drivers, or maybe the power going out because of the awful storms. 

You never had to worry about anything. You worked at the little grocery store on the corner, going between the deli and the floral department when needed. After working there for years, you knew everyone who lived there, eventually knowing their names and where they lived. You had made it a point to talk to everyone you saw, wanting them to feel welcome and seen, it was just a small habit you picked up.

It wasn't the most exciting job in the world, but it was nice to be able to pay rent and have a routine. The days when partners would come in gushing about who they were buying flowers for were your favorite, let it be birthdays, holidays, or just a random event. It made your day, and you weren't even the one receiving the flowers. 

It seemed like you were the outcast in the town, not because no one liked you, but because you didn't have kids or a partner. It didn't bother you about the kids, you were never too fond of having them. Cute, but not for you. The partner subject was a harder thing to explain, you were used to living and being alone so it didn't bother you much. 

You always thought of that as you made the arrangements, the feeling of someone putting their heart into making something so special for you.

This puts you to right now, placing together an arrangement while Mrs. Green talks about her grandkids. You often wondered if she actually liked them with how much she complained about them. They were bad kids though, and got into trouble every week.

“…And of course Parker has to follow in Taylor’s footsteps and tear up the place, knocking over my expensive vase- the one you got me for my birthday-” She explains, covering her mouth as she realizes what she said. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry…” 

You shake your head and put on your best fake smile, holding up a hand to ease her worries. 

“It’s quite alright Mrs. Green, you know how kids are.” You shrug, but internally your wallet dies. You hunted for that vase for hours, finally getting one on sale for roughly $260. Damn those kids. 

She wraps up the conversation maybe a few minutes later, rattling off some reason about cooking her famous chicken again. 

You lived next to her and smelled whatever she cooked while you had your windows open, if the smells were any indication, she was a damn good cook. 

I mean anything smelled good to you. You weren’t a 5-star chef or anything, but you could cook decent meals. Better than the college route of sandwiches and noodles. Those were the days.

-

It doesn’t take long for the day to end, only having a few people working in the store meant shorter closing hours, and getting to go home earlier than most was a perk. You walk out after closing up, locking the door, and practically crashing into Mr. West, basically the head of the events committee for this town. 

“Woah! Be careful there sweetheart.” He said, chuckling like he wasn’t the reason of you almost falling on him. 

“Sorry, what’s up?” You asked, actually interested this time. The last time he planned something, the entire town showed up, it was one of the most exciting things to happen in this town in a while. 

“Well, I came to formally invite you to the little get-together I’ve been planning for the new neighbor, I want to help make them feel welcomed here.” He grins, clasping his hands together as he talks, I guess that makes sense, everyone here knows each other so a new person joining may feel out of place, almost like a new kid joining a new school. Possibly horrifying to experience. 

“A new person? Where at?” You ask, not seeing any empty buildings near your house. Then again it had been a while since you last looked, and the Gold family has been strangely absent. 

“Right on the corner, lil white house with the blue shutters?” 

You nod in acknowledgment, suddenly knowing where that one is and frowning at the fact. 

That house has been abandoned for years, I mean long before you even moved into your little place. The blue didn’t look as vibrant and the white was a sad and dirty grey. 

The inside of the house is just as run down as the outside was. Broken furniture litters the house, most have fallen from their resting places and piled up on each other. The walls are cracked and the floor is covered in dirt and grass that have grown inside the house. 

“Ah, yeah. That one…”

Mr. West nods, almost uncaring about the state of the house. “Yup, been meaning to sell that house for ages. Nice to see some new meat round here.”

“Guess so, but I’ll be glad to take you up on that offer. What’s the details for it?” You ask, taking out your phone. 

He practically swats your phone away, shaking his head in disappointment. “Ah don’t worry about that old thing, I got letters to send out, you’ll see it when it arrives!” He bids his goodbyes and quickly walks off down the sidewalk, assuming he’s knocking on the door of your neighbors next. 

On your journey back home, you take an extra second to look at the house, it being the same way you remembered it. You thought they’d at least try and clean it up, but maybe the person isn’t here yet. The mailbox at least looked new, a nice shiny baby blue color, the black numbers on the side reading “205.” 

If first impressions mean anything, the entrance having some pop to it makes it easier on the eyes and matches the house too. 

But something about the house seems off. You can't put your finger on it, but something feels...wrong about it. 

But maybe that's just the strange aura the abandoned house brings. You continue the trek to your house, thinking about the invitation that the city council member gave you previously before reaching your street. The quiet road is mostly void of any human activity, with the occasional leaf floating down on the wind and the birds fluttering through the air.

Having no information on it so far makes it hard to plan anything out, especially if the letter gets sent too late. 

-

You stop in your tracks at the small glimpse of color resting on your doormat, squinting your eyes at it and deciding it’s too far away to actually tell what it is. 

You make small strides to your front porch, your pepper spray in hand when you pause, almost laughing at the fact that you almost pepper sprayed a bouquet of flowers. You frown and pick it up, the display of flowers similarly close to the arrangement you made earlier that day. 

You suspiciously inspect it with squinted eyes, turning it around before finding the note secured by a ribbon that’s wrapped around the middle. 

“Thought you deserved these more. <3” 

That’s nothing short of weird. 

Not only did the note have some sort of…stain on it, the handwriting is damn near illegible, barely being able to read the poorly attempted cursive on the small note. 

You don’t even know who sent these but it already seems annoying. No return address and no name means there’s someone too shy to approach you, a loser in your eyes. Could be a cute loser, those are fun. 

You shrug it off and walk in your house, flowers in hand as you place them on the kitchen counter, scouring your cabinets for a vase that’s suitable for them. You know it’s your work, just strange on how it ended up back in your hands. You grab the glass from under the cabinet, putting fresh water in it as you trim the bottom of the stems, carefully setting them in the vase on the counter. You’d have to pick up flower food later, but you can always do that tomorrow, not like you don’t already have a shift at the grocery store in the morning.

It’s a weird, possibly fucked up scenario, but It’s almost sweet in a way. Maybe in a school girl way, with your crush or secret admirers sticking notes or love letters in the slots of your locker. Grinning as you show your friends, the ecstatic look on their faces as they encourage you to go over to them, to thank them or ask them out on a date. 

You’ll have to think of consequences later. 

But now? You’ll happily sip your drink and stare at the flowers, daydreaming about who could possibly be your secret admirer.

-

The next day at work is just as boring, but this time your manager Beck did assign someone to your department, so now you’ll only have flowers today. She is in the office today, and you being her favorite employee, she often hangs around, picking up scraps and putting together some of the orders. 

“You hear about the new guy?” She asked, lazily throwing together another order of red roses. 

New guy huh? Guess Mr. West didn’t mention who the new neighbor could be. 

“Somewhat, already got an invite to that huge gathering West is planning.” 

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at the mention of both the gathering and West. They were together at some point, could be rumors, but you can’t deny seeing her knuckles turn white on occasion as she clenches her fists together. Just hearing about him must make her angry. 

“I heard. Can’t wait for that.” 

“It won’t be so bad, maybe it’ll be nice to get the town together again. Especially for the all-famous new guy.” You offer with a shrug, knowing you could care less about all of it. 

It’s not like you hated the poor guy right off the bat, but with every conversation being centered around him? It makes him seem like the next Jesus Christ. With even you knowing about him, the entire town is probably waiting for his arrival. And you know these people, already have assumptions based on his name, of which you don’t even know. You’d almost feel bad if you didn’t already have your own assumptions. 

 He better live up to the hype, or these people will eat him alive. 

“…you know, I actually saw him when he was touring the house,” Beck says with a grin, and you already know the look on her face. She’s a romantic at heart, can’t really blame her. 

“Oh yeah, panty-dropping?” 

She laughs and rolls her eyes, but you know it’s true. She’s attractive, but her college days will never leave her. You cannot forget the drunken stories she’s rambled to you about them practically lining up outside her dorm, and honestly? Good for her. 

Only action you get is from whatever you watch on television, or recently that weird-ass admirer situation. You keep your mouth shut about that, not that you don’t trust her, but she’ll make it a much bigger thing than you need right now. The last thing you need is more attention for this weird display of affection. 

“Well, he’s kinda tall, intimidating but has a cute baby face- Oh! And the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen.” She smiles, practically glowing red. 

“Sounds boring, there’s like a million of those already.” You shrug, crossing your arms after putting down the completed order. 

“This one is different! There’s something about his eyes, he’s mysterious.” She nods, a mischievous expression on her face. 

“Right, I’ll see for myself whenever this party happens.”

Beck waves you off with her hand and goes into the break room, maybe to smoke again, it has been a while since her last break. 

It’s been a while since your break as well, and no one is near the counter, and you’ve finished all your orders for today. What harm could a break do? You follow in her footsteps and walk back to your locker, opening it and sifting through your bag. After a few moments you forget what you’re looking for, but the lack of your lighter makes you pause. 

Very small thing, but still noticeable. You step outside and eye Beck up and down with a suspicious look, squinting your eyes at her. 

“What?” She asks, blowing out the smoke. 

“Did you grab my lighter? It’s gone.” 

She raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, pulling out her bright yellow lighter. “Nope, got mine right here. Anyone else smoke?” 

“Nah, just us. Damn, I liked that one.” You feel your pockets one last time and lean against the wall, now having to buy yet another lighter. 

“How do you keep losing yours?” She laughs at you, and you shrug, not like you have any idea. You have a good memory but misplace the small things, you think it’s only natural. 

“No clue, maybe I’m being haunted.” 

The woman laughs again and shakes her head. "Haunted by who? A ghost with something to gain from you? I heard that is an incredibly rare phenomenon."

It doesn't seem crazy, in fact, the idea feels...plausible. The spirits that haunt this area are mostly vengeful, but that still doesn't explain why they would send you things. What would a vengeful spirit have to gain from giving you gifts?

“Yknow, I’ve got this other guy, names L? Supposedly runs a business catching ghosts, people eat that shit up. He’s basically swimming in money.” She nods with a serious look, pointing her finger at you. 

And? Yeah okay- Sometimes you can’t tell if she’s actually serious or just fucking with you. 

You don’t offer up a reply, instead staring at her with a disappointed look. She shrugs in response, taking a drag off her cigarette. 

She continues smoking, blowing out a puff of grey smoke that wafts up and drifts away in the wind. It has a pleasant smell, the scent of flowers and honey-like fruits. It is soothing. The woman's expression remains as nonchalant as it was previously.

“Might head in, heard someone at the counter.” It’s cutting your break a few minutes short, but not like you can do anything else. 

Have to add that to your list of things to do later. 

Care about the consequences of keeping the flowers, buy a new lighter, and use your break time wisely. 

You make a mental note of those three things. The rest of your shift goes as smoothly as expected, though you have a nagging feeling that there is something off about the house you saw earlier. That feeling, mixed with the strange gifts and Beck's strange comment has your mind racing. 

-

That night you had to close late, the customers obviously not understanding closing hours. You get people need food, but they could’ve cleared their schedules or something- Maybe even get there the next morning when you first open. Beck couldn’t close because her cat sitter said he got sick, so she had to rush home and get him to the vet- which is unfortunately hours away.

You make your rounds through the store, jotting down the few things that need to be stocked in the morning. And also make sure no one is trying to stay overnight, kicking those people out is the worst. The last time someone had hidden in the break room, practically scaring the poor new girl to death, she didn’t stay long after that.

A small clang gets your attention, the sound only being noticed because of the dead silent- and hopefully empty store. 

Two things could happen here, either someone is here and fucking with something, or it’s an animal of some kind. 

You don’t want to deal with either. 

You unhook the pepper spray from off your belt, gripping it in your hands like it may fall, almost like a greedy spoiled kid with anything. Unable to let go, and won’t without a good reason. 

Your reason? 

Nothing being here. 

You stalk around the corner with quiet steps, frowning when you hear the small taps of your shoes as they carefully touch the ground when you walk. Damn these shoes and this slick ass floor. You’re hyper-focused on any noise that your ears can pick up, but of course your brain has to imagine hearing footsteps all around you. Another clang has you looking towards the break room, now registering the sound as the locker opening and closing. Walking towards the sound makes your heart race, the loud thumping beats filling your head as you take more and more steps towards the room. 

Rushing around the corner has you panting and hyperventilating, aiming your pepper spray at the lockers - seeing a masked figure quickly slip out the back door, completely dressed in black. 

You run after them, knocking the door open and running into the parking lot. After a quick and very thorough search, it was like they disappeared. There’s no one walking or anything, only the sound of the wind filling your ears. 

A quick walk back to the break room and you’re searching the lockers, praying that they didn’t steal or break anything. Everything is perfectly fine, until you step towards your locker. Nothing seems out of place, but your gut tells you something is in there, something’s wrong. 

You take a deep breath and swing the locker open, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you start seeing shapes. Nothing popping out at you has you opening your eyes again, glancing down at your once empty locker with an expression of disbelief- and maybe a small hint of…disappointment?

It’s your lighter. A small note attached to it reading, “Sorry :(“

…

What?

You know it’s whoever gave you the flowers, I mean they find your house, your workplace, and locker, steal your stuff, and then return it?

You were barely angry about it, only annoyed, and that’s all it took for them to give it back to you? Especially in the weird way that they did. 

They had to be nearby to hear that conversation you had with Beck, whether outside or inside the store. But no one being there makes you pause.

It makes you wonder how long they’ve been watching you. 

The chill that runs down your spine and makes your entire body shiver makes you consider finally setting up those security cameras around your house. You may not be able to do it at the store, but damn this stalker being able to free-roam your own house. 

Makes you consider buying another weapon as well, pepper spray is temporary at this point, people can still fight with their eyes closed.

It being almost midnight puts a stop to enacting any of your plans, you'll just have to invest a pretty penny in the morning to get those cameras, then spend the entire afternoon planning out and placing the cameras around your house. 

Even if you are the only one to see the footage, the thought of having cameras watch you is almost creepy in a way. Like an instant goosebumps kind of feeling. Just gross, can't explain it. 

A quick walk back to your house has you calming down some, despite it being night, the street lights do good work to light up the streets, and hearing the small buzz come from them is soothing in a way. 

You stop by your mailbox first, your morning shift crossing with the path of the mailman's schedule. A glance through the letters and you stop at the bright pink one, immediately knowing it has the details of the gathering. 

Ripping the top off and skimming through the small writing makes you want to crumble the letter up in your hands, just tossing it out into the street. Of course, it's tomorrow, well technically today since it's well past midnight now. 

The only good part is that it's around five, which gives you time to sleep and prepare some weird side dish. It's much better than trying to pick out a gift for the random guy, that's a hair-pulling kind of stress that you definitely dont want to deal with right now, or ever. 

-

That night you actually managed to have a full night's rest, no randomly waking up or any nightmares to scare you half to death. The bright lights peaking through your blinds make you immediately cover your eyes, stretching your legs out and hearing the small pops. 

Sitting up makes you jolt a bit, and the sudden realization of something wet between your legs makes you groan. A quick look under the covers has your mind reeling, it's definitely not your period, and it's all over your thighs and underwear. 

You dont remember having a dream that good to literally come everywhere, let alone have it look like this. Tossing your clothes and sheets in the washing machine and taking a hot shower has you relaxing and not paying any attention to it. 

You have better things you need to worry about today. 

The letter only contained the dishes already being brought to the event, a small note at the bottom explaining to try and bring a dish everyone can eat. Could be easy enough, you could just go to the store and grab a fruit plate or something. Doesn’t take much time to get and is somewhat inexpensive. 

Plus-

Everyone knows this main event is not about the food. 

Around roughly 4:45, you pull up to an awfully crowded building. With most of the parking spaces being filled and people having to stand outside due to the inside being packed, you dont have high hopes for a stress-free night. 

These people are good people, and you get along with them just fine. But having to be at an introduction party is the worst. Having the same conversation over and over again isn't exactly your idea of fun.

And with how many people are here? 

You should practically have sorry on speed dial anytime you may bump into someone, I mean- god forbid you dont apologize for what they did. Of course, everything is fine, you might explode if someone elbows you again but it's all chill! Complaining and daydreaming have you slowly exiting your car, fruit plate in hand as you try to find the food table. 

A reunion. Always something to complain about, whether the food is too dry, the children are annoying, or the awkward moment when that one neighbor drinks too much and starts to talk about his latest conspiracy theories. 

A lot of families have those members you wish you didn't know. But, hey, that's the price you pay to be related to someone.

And two conversations later you finally set it down 20 minutes later. 

You glance up at the poorly taped banner on the wall, holding up a nice welcome greeting.

Leon, huh?

Puts a name to the face you haven't seen yet.

There's something ominous in the air about party's dedicated to a single individual. 

Maybe because everything is out of your control, with every person here dedicated to making the honored person the center of attention. 

Of course, that is exactly why he might enjoy their party. But for a newcomer, it feels like being thrown into a lion's pit, surrounded by a pride of unknown beasts.

In moments like these, you wish it was just a normal party, where the stakes were lower, and the random people and neighbors were your friends.

It's not that they're rude people. You're just more of an introvert, wishing you had some kind of anchor for yourself, a familiar face or a friendly voice.

Beck hasn’t even shown up yet, leaving you standing in the corner watching the others, sipping on a champagne that tastes like perfume. 

You push yourself off the wall and crash into someone, the champagne spilling all over your neck and outfit, the sounds of their apologies drowned out by your thoughts.

The smell of spilled champagne fills your nose, and the apologetic sounds from the stranger fills your ears. You are sure to apologize as well, as the liquid stains your clothes and spills onto the ground as well.

The stranger seems nice, though unfortunate that the two of you crashed into each other, and both of your outfits are now wet and sticky.

The stranger doesn't seem very upset or annoyed by your spilling your drink over them, and you apologize profusely.

A moment passes, and you lock eyes with this strange person. The two of you laugh, the embarrassment fading away as both of you realize that it was an unfortunate accident.

Both of your attention is focused on each other now. The two of you lock eyes, and you can't help but notice how attractive this stranger is. It’s not about his overall appearance or personality, it’s the eyes that are drawing you in. Like a siren call, they practically pull you in, drowning in a sea of the most beautiful blue shade you’ve ever seen. 

“What an awkward first impression, kinda ruined that. I’m Leon, by the way-“ 

He chuckles, extending his hand out and shaking yours with a firm grip, the feeling of rough and calloused palms against your own is almost calming in a way. 

“I’d stay and chat for a bit but I should get cleaned up…” You chuckle awkwardly, gesturing towards the champagne that nearly drenched you. 

“Ah, I am sorry again. I should’ve paid more attention.” Leon frowns, looking you up and down, almost analyzing the mess he made of you. 

A quick nod and you’re off to the bathroom, staring in the mirror as you dab your neck and chest with a damp paper towel. The odd but familiar scent of the towel fills your nose, almost like a wet stale cardboard smell. 

You toss them in the trash when you’re done, admiring your appearance in the mirror before stepping back out of the bathroom. As you step out of the bathroom, your eyes are quickly met by the stranger you met earlier. Leon seems to be making a quick beeline towards you, the two of you catching up after the awkward spill.

Leon eyes you with interest, his shy but flirty demeanor becoming increasingly obvious to you. “You clean up real nice.”

You feel your cheeks flush at his comment about you cleaning up nicely. It seems that your efforts paid off after all. You didn’t dress up for him, let alone dress to impress. But god do those words make you happy. 

You smile at him, unsure of what to say next. He seems a bit flirtatious, which is certainly intriguing.

You can't help but feel your heart pounding like it never has before. The two of you lock eyes for a moment, and your breathing grows shallow as you take him in fully. 

He stands a bit taller than you are, his dirty blonde hair framing his face just right. The way that he stands gives you a sense of security, and his expression is one that speaks volumes. The lights reflected off his soft features, almost making him glow. Maybe Beck was right, he may be average, but there’s something else there. 

There is something intriguing about him, something that attracts your attention, almost begging you to investigate more. While he might be average-looking, his presence is anything but, and you are sure to discover what hides below the surface of those gorgeous eyes.

You find yourself caught in conversation with Leon for so long, that the moments start to slip away as you talk away the night. The feeling of being energized is almost invigorating, as the two of you laugh and enjoy each other's company. It's hard to imagine that only the champagne is causing the buzzing feeling in your body, it is certainly more than just that. 

The night continues on, and the two of you keep talking, enjoying each other's company. The more you engage in conversation, the feeling underneath your skin starts to grow almost intense, and it becomes harder to ignore it, or how you feel about this stranger. You can’t tell if the pounding in your head is because of the alcohol or him, his gaze towards you sending chills down your spine, goosebumps trailing their way down your arms.

Leon seems to notice something is off, and the expression he presents is one of concern. "Is something wrong? You look sick..."

It takes every ounce of willpower to keep yourself collected, and your shaking heart under control. "It's nothing, just had too much to drink... maybe," you finally say, giving a half-smile and trying not to show how nervous you are.

You can't help but feel your heart beating like an angry drum. You're almost certain that he can see the signs of your drunken affection for him, and you are sure to grow more and more embarrassed with every passing moment. 

It seems like Leon is trying to offer support, but to you, this just feels like a game of hide and seek, each side trying not to show their cards too early. A cat and mouse chase, the game only ending when the other party gives in. 

“I’m fine, promise.” You wave off his concern, swirling your drink around in your glass in an attempt to focus on something other than his face.

"Okay, if you're sure..." Leon says, his tone expressing that he sees right through your bluff.

He seems to notice you trying to distract him from the situation, and his expression softens slightly. He seems to pick that up, and the conversation continues.

You can't help but feel a tad bit awkward, so you focus on your drink to avoid looking at him. The swirling glass keeps your vision occupied, but your mind is still focused on the face you tried to avoid.

The conversation continues, and there is little to distract you from the awkward situation between you and Leon. The buzz has only grown more intense, almost making it hard to think straight at moments. Your heart is beating and your mind is reeling, tiny specks of black spotting your vision.

“I’m gonna get some fresh air,“ 

As the words begin to leave your mouth, his features shift to one of confusion, disappointment, and hints of something else that you can’t quite place. "... you're leaving?"

"I'm just...." you try to reply, but the words get caught in your throat. "I'll be back, just need some fresh air," you finally manage to stammer out, the expression on his face adding fuel to your lie.

He only nods in response, and you stagger off to the exit, trying to escape the overwhelming feelings flooding you.

You rush past the other partygoers, ignoring their looks and questions as you try to escape to the privacy of your car. The air is refreshingly cool compared to the crowded party inside, and you can finally breathe. You don't bother leaning against the wall, and instead make a dash for your car.

The freedom is refreshing, and you open your car door to find a quiet space where you can collect your thoughts. You still feel a weird mix of emotions inside you, but in the car, you have some time to calm down.

The drive back home is a surreal experience, as the intense feelings of embarrassment and concern start to settle in. You get home and flop onto your bed, letting the plush pillows and soft blankets ease your mind as you fall asleep in a matter of minutes. 

You fall into a deep sleep, but the feelings still linger. However, the soft embrace of sleep makes the feelings more bearable, and you finally allow yourself to rest.

-

The hangover is the first thing that hits you as you wake up, along with the pounding of your head and the aching pain in your body. Itchiness washes over you, feeling like a lingering reminder of the previous night. No wonder you woke up with a headache, considering the amount of alcohol you probably put away last night.

The little bit of alcohol seems like it affected you more than it should have, given the fact that you aren't a lightweight. Why did you have such a strong reaction to a small amount of alcohol? Was it the stress of the situation, or was there something else going on?

You take the pill killers and swallow the cold water with some difficulty, the scratching in your throat making it difficult to swallow. You hope and pray that the pills will kick in soon, as the pounding in your head is unbearable.

The feeling of the pills finally kicking in makes the headache much more tolerable and the itchy feeling under your skin shifts to something slightly less unbearable. You still feel the heat beneath your skin, and you know that the strange feeling hasn't gone away, but it's certainly become more manageable.

As the pills take effect, you're able to gather yourself for a shower. The hot water pours over your body, and it's heavenly. Not only does it bring the pain of your hangover down to a much more bearable level, but it even helps to calm the strange feeling that has been creeping underneath your skin as well. The heat from the water feels divine, and you find yourself lingering in the shower far longer than you intend to.

You step out of the shower, all clean and dressed with a light snack eaten. The lingering effects of the strange feeling are finally bearable, and you're ready to face the world again.

You leave your house and make your way to the hardware store, hoping that they will have the security cameras that you're looking for. The walk there is pleasant, and the breeze is helping to clear out the last bit of the strange feeling you experienced the night before.

As you enter the hardware store, you are relieved to discover that they do, in fact, carry the security cameras that you're looking for. The person working there is super friendly and knowledgeable, helping to guide you to the right section of the store.

It's nice to be able to get some answers about what happened a few nights ago, and the purchase will certainly make you feel safer in your own home.

You're staring at the two boxes, considering one white shade or the other, when a familiar voice breaks your concentration. It's Leon, and it seems he followed you to the store? 

He seems to recommend one shade over the other, and you take his suggestion to heart. The ghost white seems to suit the color of your walls much better, although the seashell has a nice pinkish hue to it. 

"I'll take the ghost white, then," you say, and turn to give him a smile.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you turn around, spotting his empty basket in hand. 

"I, uhh..." he falters for a moment before continuing. "I was actually headed here to buy some things as well." He gestures to the store, but his eyes seem to be fixed on you instead.

He seems to have something else to say, but he's hesitant. You get the feeling that he's trying to find the right words, and he seems to be avoiding making eye contact.

“I hope you find them all right, they seem to have everything here!” You quickly reply, snuffing out any hint of awkwardness.

He seems to relax a little, as if relieved to shift the topic away from anything tense. "Yeah, they really have everything here. They've got everything I was looking for."

The awkwardness between you seems to have faded, and you feel a bit more comfortable. The conversation is back to being a bit lighthearted, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of both of your shoulders.

You bid your goodbyes and walk back to your house, holding the bag of freshly bought security cameras in your hand. Hopefully, they’ll blend nicely into your walls, Leon seemed to think so. 

You arrive back home with the two boxes of security cameras in hand and start to consider how to best set them up. You quickly decide the two outside and one in your bedroom, with the last remaining one being a bit of a mystery.

The living room would be a natural spot, but it's pretty open, and doesn't really make sense to have a camera there. The kitchen and dining room are an option, but those rooms could be considered too far away from your bedroom to really be effective at helping your paranoia.

You sit there for a moment, considering options of where the last camera could go. There are so many rooms, and so many different areas to consider, and you can't help but feel overwhelmed.

Finally, you make a decision. The last one will go in the basement, and the basement could use something to watch over it. The basement is an eerie place, with a large variety of odd and old items. The basement is not the neatest place in the world, but that works in your favor. 

You just make sure that it isn't pointed directly at any one thing, but rather in a way that you can watch everything.

You download the app on your phone, which allows you to view all of the cameras at any time. The basement camera is running smoothly, and the stream is clear. You can see the entire room at all times, though you can't detect any obvious signs of intruders or anything out of the ordinary.

It's a relief to have the cameras installed, and the house feels a bit more secure. 

Back upstairs, you toss the empty box and paper away as soon as you return. You won't need the physical reminder anymore, as the code is easy to remember. 

You sit on the couch and feel a feeling of peace wash over you. The cameras are set up, and the inside and outside can be monitored now. It feels comforting, and you hope the cameras will help deter any intruders from targeting your home, or better yet- whoever that one person was. 

-

A few days pass without any issues, and you feel your stress levels ease. Each peaceful day that goes by brings relief, knowing that the cameras are doing their job and nothing strange is going on. 

It's weird to think the strangest thing to happen is tourists flirting with you at your job, it's the truth. Every time you have to deal with one, you wonder how dumb they can really be. You wish you could smack them with the bouquets you sell, and make them regret ever coming over to your counter. But of course, you can't because that's not "Customer Service Friendly.” Ugh.

You almost start to forget about your worries, and life seems to return back to normal. The cameras are doing their job, and it seems like everything has been sorted out.

Leon has become a frequent person in your life, and you find yourself seeing him in almost every place you go. It seems that your paths often cross, even when you aren't necessarily expecting it.

Despite your issues with Leon earlier on, he has turned out to be an alright person. He hasn't done anything malicious like you had assumed, and he seems to be an honest person at this point. 

Beck still hasn't messaged you or anything, so it's been quite lonely without anyone to talk to. Leon has been the only person keeping you distracted from loneliness, and it's kind of refreshing to have someone new to talk to and hang out with.

Getting to know him in such a short time has been a bit of a surprise, as he's shared quite a bit with you. 

You learn about his life as a retired police officer, that he lives with a German shepherd named Lola, and that he currently doesn't have his family. The only other aspect about him that you haven't learned yet is his romantic life.

It's certainly understandable that he would keep his romantic life to himself. You don't go around advertising the fact that you're single either, so you get where he's coming from. It's just a private part of someone's life, and it's not something that needs to be discussed unless it's brought up by the person directly. 

It feels like there's more to him than just the police officer part, the German shepherd, and the lack of family. You kind of feel like there's more to the story when it comes to him. 

Which leads you to now.

You had invited Leon over for dinner, hoping that the house setting would make him feel more comfortable to open up and share more with you. You don't know what it is about him, but there's definitely more to his story than just his career and lack of family. He has some kind of wall around him, and maybe the more peaceful setting of the house will help him relax and share more.

The doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of Leon. You take one last glance in the mirror, making sure everything looks perfect before heading down to answer the door. You open the door, greeting Leon with a smile and leading him inside. 

The dining area is all setup, a delicious meal waiting on the table. The candles are lit and the mood is quiet and peaceful. The smell of the food you cooked wafted through the air, mixing with the warm and light scent of the candles.

Leon seems to be a bit sheepish as his eyes reach the table and linger on the candles and expensive dishes. "You didn't have to do all this for me..." he says, his tone of voice soft but a bit anxious.

You smile and reassure him, "Don't be ridiculous, It's nothing. I just thought I'd make you a nice meal. I've been wanting to cook for someone, and it seemed like a good opportunity." 

He seems to relax once you assure him, though he still seems a bit nervous. He is not used to this, the kindness that you're showing him. It's more than what Leon is used to. He almost looks uncomfortable. 

You take your seat at the table, motioning for him to take his as well. The candles light the room with a warm and dim glow, adding to the pleasant atmosphere of the dinner. Leon sits down at the table, looking at the food with a bit of a smile. He looks nervous still, but there is some kind of small enjoyment on his face. The dinner looks inviting, and Leon seems to be slowly growing comfortable with the situation.

You continue to chat over the delicious dinner, and the conversation flows smoothly for both of you. Leon is enjoying the food and seems to actually be enjoying the conversation. It's the first time you've gone this deep into your friendship with him, and you can't help but feel glad that he is enjoying this night so far.

You both finish eating, and you start putting away the food. You're now standing at your sink as you start washing the dishes, Leon coming over to help and washing the rest of them.

"Let me help you with that, I don't mind at all," Leon says, taking the dishes from you and helping to wash them. "I'm used to doing housework, so I can help finish these with you."

You feel a bit of resistance to the idea, wanting to handle it on your own. But, it seems like Leon is not accepting refusal as an answer. 

Instead, he is taking the dishes from you and helping to wash them himself. There is a sense of kindness and politeness in his voice as if he is offering a helping hand, and you can't bring yourself to deny him. You're not exactly sure what you did to deserve this level of kindness, but you're certainly not complaining.

"Well, thank you. I appreciate the help," You say, giving in and washing the dishes alongside him. "It's no problem really," Leon says, washing the dishes. The two of you scrub away at the dishes, and for a while, there's nothing but the sound of clattering dishes as the water washes over them.

Leon seems more comfortable now, and you notice that he's smiling a bit more as the dishes are cleaned. He does seem a bit restless though, unable to stay still for a long time. Messing with his clothes, bouncing his knee, fiddling with the dishes. The silence is peaceful though, and it's nice to have this small moment with Leon.

You glance over a few times and see Leon's gaze landing on the sharper cutlery, and you notice that he seems to be running his fingers along the sharp edge as if he is contemplating something. It's like he's considering whether or not he should be allowed to use those utensils, as if they're forbidden fruit or something. You can't help but feel a bit uneasy about the way he keeps looking at them. You watch cautiously as he continues to run his fingers along the sharp edge as if testing it out. There's a bit of worry in your mind when it comes to letting him hold these knives, as he seems to be entranced by them in some way. The thought of letting him get near them is making you feel a bit uneasy, but you don't want to be too controlling and tell him he can't touch them.

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should say anything at all, but your worry over the situation is too much for you to let go. You finally ask, "Is everything okay?"

Leon stops and turns to face you, his attention returning to you. "Hmm?" Leon hums, and you notice he's snapped out of the trance he was in. "Oh, yeah, everything's alright. I'm just cleaning the knives," he says, holding one up and scrubbing it.

You furrow your brows a bit at that comment, not wanting to push it further than that. If he says things are alright, then you might just have to take him at his word. It's no use pushing it further if he seems to be content, and you don't want to make things awkward or uncomfortable now.

As you finish up your portion of the dishes, you head over to the counter to dry your hands off with the hand towel. You keep glancing over at Leon, and he's still washing the dishes too. You're feeling ready to rest, but it seems like Leon is just finishing up his portion now. You watch him for a few moments as he finishes up the cutlery, wondering how much longer he'll take.

"I really do want to thank you." Leon suddenly says, the shift in his tone causes you to freeze a little bit, your brow twitching slightly at the ominous undertones it brings with it. You wonder what could have caused this change in the tone of his voice. The sudden seriousness that has come over him is unsettling, and it's almost as if he sees you in a different light now.

"You've been so nice to me, I can't help but feel touched," he says, still looking down at the dishes he's cleaning. This shift is alarming, especially with the way he's not even looking at you anymore.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to pass off his words with a joke. "No need to get all sappy on me," you echo back, hoping that he'll laugh along with you.

"Just wanted us to talk more, have a nice dinner between friends…" You repeat back in an attempt to be lighthearted and not make the situation too awkward.

"A friend, hm?" he says, finally taking his eyes off the dishes and looking up at you now. His gaze is almost piercing, and you can feel that he is studying you with his full attention. The way he's looking at you now makes you feel exposed, almost like he can find some hidden flaw with just one glance. His stare is almost piercing, and you feel like you're being studied from every angle. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you, and what he could be thinking right now.

"Well, we are friends," you reply back, feeling quite uneasy with the way he is looking at you. You don't like the way he's studying you like this, as if he's trying to find something wrong with you.

"That's what I've considered you as this entire time," you continue, trying to keep the sour feelings at bay.

Leon's gaze shifts and his entire demeanor changes in a jarring way. One moment he was focused on the dishes, and the next he was looking at you with an intense gaze that sends chills down your spine. You stare back at him with hesitation, and in just a split second you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of uneasiness wash over you when you see him looking at you like this.

The silence between you two is thick as you stare at each other, and it's as if everything else in the world has stopped. You can't help but feel a sharp feeling of nervousness building inside you, making it feel almost as if you're in the presence of danger. You can't place exactly what changed about him, or what caused this shift in his demeanor. 

His laugh echoes in your ears, but the low and rumbling sound only serves to further distress you. This whole situation is unsettling and it's making you question everything. The whole time you thought you were simply having a nice dinner with a friend, but it appears the situation is a bit more intense than you thought.

"Is that what you think this is?" he asks you, raising an eyebrow.

"This friendship?" you ask, and you feel a bit taken off guard by the question. You stare back at him, your eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. 

"What do you mean?"

"Is that what you think this is?" he asks again, and this time his tone is darker. You can't help but feel uncomfortable with the way he's looking at you when he says those words. It's as if he's challenging you in some way, and the vibe of him seems to have changed.

You can feel a mixture of confusion and anger wash over you as you narrow your eyes at Leon. You feel like he is implying something different, and you don't like it at all.

"That's all I think you are at the moment, nothing more," you reply, trying to keep your cool. You don't like the way this conversation is going, and you don't want to get too frustrated and ruin everything.

"Well, I'm sorry if you aren't satisfied with that outcome," Leon replies, his tone taking on a more ominous feel to it. Your confusion is growing at this point because everything he's saying seems to carry a deeper message. "But I dont think you understand what you're saying..."

"What do you mean by that?" you reply, feeling like the conversation is getting a bit intense now. The way he's talking has taken on a more ominous feel to it, and you can't help but feel a bit uneasy now.

"I dont understand what I'm saying?" you echo back, looking at him with a cautious expression. You're not sure what he means by that, but you're starting to get a bad feeling in your gut.

"I think you're just confused is all." He replies nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

You can't help but feel a moment of frustration when he replies with a casual shrug. Was he just messing around with you? Was that threat in his words supposed to be some kind of joke?

"Confused?" you repeat back, but there's a bit of a frown on your face now. You're starting to feel more than just a bit confused, as he seems to be toying with your emotions. You're not sure what game he's playing at, but it's starting to bother you.

"Okay, I dont understand what's going on here. But I'm not comfortable with you being in my house anymore, I think you should leave." You say, shaking your head, shifting your weight back and forth as you speak, the motion soothing you. 

He seems taken aback by this sudden dismissal, his expression darkening somewhat as he looks at you with a look of surprise and something else. It's like he's trying to hide his anger, but you can't help but feel the threat of it lurking in his eyes.

"I'm not leaving," he replies, his tone shifting back to one of arrogance. He doesn't care that you're not comfortable with this situation, instead, he's demanding that this conversation continue. 

You feel like you're being backed into a corner, and the thought of being forced to engage with this anymore is making you feel uneasy.

"I said you should leave." You repeat yourself, doubling down on your decision.

"No, you should think things through and realize that you want me here." He says, his tone shifting from one of arrogance back to a threatening aura. It's a bit unsettling how quickly he shifted to this, with such a demanding tone. The conversation shifts in tone once again, and he is back to being arrogant and demanding. He doesn't plan to leave just because you told him to, and you're starting to feel uncomfortable with being in this situation with a person so hostile and unyielding.

You quickly size him up, your eyes widening when you spot the tightly gripped knife in his hand. The sudden change in his attitude and that tight grip on the knife make all the pieces click together for you, and suddenly everything makes sense. Your instincts take over, and you become alert to being in a potentially dangerous situation.

Leon notices your shock and tries to take advantage of it, lunging at you with the knife, aiming for your stomach. The sudden lunge catches you off-guard, and you flinch at the action. You can't help but start to feel a rush of fear as the knife aims for your stomach. 

You react quickly, dodging out of the way and punching him square in the jaw, sending him flying towards the floor. 

You scramble away and run as fast as you can in the direction of your bedroom, closing the door behind you and locking it tight. 

The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes your heart beat faster with every step, and you can feel your breath coming out in quick, shaky breaths.

You look around your room in a frenzy, using your new found strength to push your dresser in front of the door. You’re sure any police officer knows how to pick a lock, especially the basic ones that are in these old houses. In a panic, you try to find a place to hide and scan the room for somewhere to hide, your eyes landing on your closet. 

You move toward the closet, and you're careful to open and shut the door slowly. The inside of the closet is dark and cramped, making it feel more creepy than comforting. You try to ignore the feeling of claustrophobia that is creeping into you, and you duck down as you pull the door closed behind you.

The moment you duck into the closet, you hear the sounds of footsteps rushing up the stairs. You realize that your bedroom is the last room in the hallway, which means it could take him a while before he reaches you. 

But, he's going to get to you eventually and you start feeling a bit of panic in the back of your mind.

Would anyone find you when he reaches you? Could you be recognizable to the poor neighbor who finds your body when he’s done? 

You begin to get more and more anxious as the footsteps draw closer, the tension and fear of waiting for the inevitable reaching a fever pitch. 

You sit there in the closet, hiding and waiting in the darkness. You know that the longer this goes on, the more danger you're in, and you can't help but shake slightly at the thought.

You hear the slam of the guest room's door as it burst open, followed by the quiet sounds of rustling that fill your ears as he searches the room. It's an eerie noise, and it sends shivers down your spine as you realize he's getting closer to you. You clutch your hands, trying to keep your breathing quiet and steady as he gets closer.

The silence is overwhelming, as you try everything you can not to make a sound. You hold your breath as you hear Leon searching in the bathroom now, the rustling sound of the curtain pulling back catching your attention, your racing heartbeat growing stronger and louder as he gets closer. The tension is building, and the thought of him finding you is causing you more distress than you would like to admit.

You can hear the chuckle of Leon's voice as he reaches your bedroom door, and you hold your breath even tighter. He's getting so close now, and you can feel yourself starting to tremble with fear. His voice carries with it a sense of dominance and arrogance, and you can almost imagine the smirk he's giving you right now.

You clench your fists tightly as you hear Leon's voice talking to you through the door.

"I know you're in there. Why are you hiding? Do you think it'll help you?" he says, his voice sounding smug and superior. He sounds like he's enjoying this situation a bit too much, and your heart starts pounding in your chest as you hear the confidence in his voice.

The silence is almost deafening when you don’t respond, and you sit there listening to your rapid heartbeat and your slow breathing. There's so much tension in the air, and you feel like your heartbeat is going to explode out of your chest. 

The silence lasts for what seems like an eternity, but you close your eyes tight, hoping that he'll just give in and leave you alone. And, it seems your prayers are answered, and there's only silence for a few moments before the sound of footsteps heading down the stairs makes you sigh of relief. 

You sit in the closet, letting out a sigh of relief when you hear the footsteps heading down the stairs instead of coming toward your closet door. The tension is starting to ebb slightly, and you feel an overwhelming sense of relief wash over you. You feel like you can finally breathe again, and you start to slow your breathing as you try to calm down.

The sound of the dresser scraping against the floor escapes your notice as you try to take deep breaths and calm yourself down. You miss the sound of the footsteps moving toward the door, letting your heart beat faster as you bury your head into your hands. You miss the subtle noises that would have warned you of what was coming. 

When he rips open the closet door, you let out a sharp gasp and freeze, staring up at him in fear as he stares back with that smug expression on his face.

"Found you."

-

word count: 10k

If you wanted the dinner to go differently :)

#cybunii #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #suggestive #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #leon scott kennedy

[isa-loves-you]

Telling People, You're a couple. | The Group Chat Head canons | Pt.1

I'm sorry this is late; I've been having too much fun fanaticizing instead of writing. I didn't include tanner since i included this in the last head canon.

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Isaac- It has been two weeks since you and Isaac have been together, you haven't really told anyone besides the boys in the house, but you wanted to take things, so you haven't told your fans.

One night you and some of the others decided to drink and stream an American truck simulator. You all were having a good time until Isaac became more tipsy than usual.

"Hold on, hold on, I need another sake. I'll be right quick, and tanner if you crash into me while I'm gone . I'll hide under your bed tonight.'' Isaac went to grab his drink and on his way back he passed your room where your door was cracked open.

You were laughing at yumi yelling at nick when you heard Isaacs knock at the bedroom door. "open the door or i'm gonna throw rocks in your window, you dumb whore" you laughed even harder . you made sure your camera was at a good level before telling him to come in so he didn't face reveal himself .

Isaac came and stood right next to your chair fiddling with his drink acting like he was gonna spill it on your keyboard. "Nah I won't do it, chat . I love them too much ""really because I don't love you" you said as a joke which he got surprisingly. "oh yeah?" Isaac then wrapped his arm around your throat acting as if he was going to choke you "chat ill do it, don't make me, i may love them but i'll do it." you couldn't help but laugh from his arm tickling your neck.

"Fine chat fine you brought this upon yourselves" Isaac let out a yell before reaching around your face and giving you a small kiss. Isaac than ran out of the room laughing like an evil villain. your chat went crazy with aww and asking if you're okay with what he did. "It's okay to chat, he's been doing it since we've started dating". you left your chat with that sentence and refused to retouch on the subject to make things funnier.

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

Yumi- you have been staying at the group chats house for a month almost two, isaac and the rest were convincing you to just move into the house with them since you were  sorta a part of the group  and now that you're with yumi it makes sense to just move in. you decided that you would just fly home and to drive back to austin since you had stuff that you couldn't bring on a plane but not enough stuff to rent out a uhaul. You were only gone for a week so you could close out your lease with your landlord and pack things.

Even though you and yumi haven't dated for the longest and you were only gone for a week he still misses you, you were a part of his routine and now he doesn't know what to do with his days. He stuck with streaming to take up his time but he eventually would lose track of time and not notice that a week has already passed. 

You were so happy to see Blake again. You had to pull over twice while on the way out due to your foot bouncing on the pedal from excitement and not wanting to crash. As soon as you got into the driveway you jumped out of the car and ran into the house “Hi y/n '' tanner turned around in the bean bag chair. You just ran up the stairs not even paying attention to what he was doing “Hi tanner” you said almost already at yumies door. 

You had pressed your ear against the door to hear what yumi was doing. It sounded like he was watching car crashes on stream so you made sure to be quiet when you opened the door so you could scare him. You open the door lightly and as soon as your head comes into frame on the camera you put a finger to your lips to signal to his chat not to say anything. You got close enough to him without him noticing you until you wrapped your arms around his top half  “MISSED ME?!” you said out loud as he finally stopped screaming. “Fuck i though i was dead but yeah im happy your back” you said with a boom in his voice as he hugged you back, he was hugging you thight so you knew he was telling you the truth. 

“Here chat this is my i don't even know” Blake said has he used you towards the camera “partner?” you looked back at him to see if he approved “yeah sounds right”. For the rest of the stream, you and Yumi answered questions that his fans had about you and him and watched whatever YouTube had recommended.

#isaacwhy #larry croft #softwilly x reader #tgc #the group chat #the group chat podcast #tooyumi #yumi tgc #yumi #yumi x reader #bigt x reader #bigt #larrycroft x reader

[genshin-impacted]

Exchange of Rings

(Alhaitham x Reader - 2/?) 

You and Alhaitham get settled into your shared home in the beginning of your year-long test run of your marriage. The both of you try to figure out how to best live together piece by piece. OR apartment shopping + eating dinner + packing lunch

Word Count: ~3.7k 

Notes: afab!reader, second person pov “you”, switches pov with Alhaitham, modern au, arranged marriage, fall first/fall harder, mentions of sex, slow burn

[Previous - Next]

.

.

.

The first thing in order is to get an apartment that the two of you can both agree on. As the two of you are fiancés, there really is only a need for one bedroom and one bathroom. You’re almost excited to share a bed with someone else again, but temper it with the knowledge that you’ll only be sharing a bed with Alhaitham and nothing else. 

For now, at least. You try to not let your mind linger on what Alhaitham said at the first meeting regarding any… sensual possibilities. Regardless, the step to share a home is something inherently intimate.

The location of the apartment is at the halfway point between your parent's homes in a cozy suburban area with amenities close by and with enough space to fit two people. For one, the kitchen is spacious, and they leave you with a nice living room for activities next to a cozy dining room. With the both of you making wages, the payment is honestly not bad at all. You agree to split fifty fifty with him.

The apartment comes partially furnished. Together, the two of you bring enough furniture to make the apartment look more like a home. Alhaitham was kind enough– or would you say, meticulous enough to share a document between the two of you so you know what is still needed and who is bringing which item. It makes it easier to determine which item belongs to whom to return to if things go sour, but it also lets you see what the two of you still need to buy together. 

It’s a very efficient way of doing things, and you see that in the other ways he plans things to make it as easy as possible: You come to pick him up at the apartment so the two of you can carpool together to shop since the store is in the same direction; Alhaitham tells you that he intends to rent a delivery van for any big purchases to reduce any of the hassle of doing it yourselves. And he’s fair too– he tells you he can pay you for gas for the car ride, and though you feel like it’s unnecessary, you feel inclined to agree anyways.

Alhaitham pauses in the middle of the conversation, and you take your eyes off the road for a second to glance at him. 

“Anything wrong?” You ask him, “Did we forget something at the apartment?”

“No,” he says. “I suppose I’m just surprised you’re agreeing with all of this so easily. I expected push-back.” 

“Push-back for what?” You say, genuinely curious. “It all sounds good to me. You’re very organized.”

You glance at Alhaitham again to see his hand at his chin, thoughtful. You expect him to elaborate, but he doesn’t, deigning to continue the conversation where he left off. It isn’t until you’ve parked and Alhaitham is waiting for you at your car door that you decide to ask again. 

“So about earlier,” you begin, walking a few steps more to match Alhaitham’s long strides. Gratefully, you see him slow down for you to catch up, and the two of you begin walking side-by-side. “You said you expected me to… say something about what we were going to do? Why would I do that? It makes sense to me: buy essential stuff, unpack what we have, go buy what we’re missing if need-be…”

“I just have contingency plans in case something doesn’t go according to plan,” Alhaitham says. Now it’s his turn to glance at you, and there are those eyes again, piercingly observant like everything you do he will catalog for future reference. “Not everyone agrees with the way I work. I anticipated something like that would happen.”

You have a small feeling that the ‘disagreements’ Alhaitham mentioned happen often. You can see it: Alhaitham has a tone that may not sit very well with other people. It’s brusque at worst and matter-of-fact at best, but you find comfort in the confidence he exudes and the instructions he provides. You also don’t take his tone personally, which is for the best, you think, for this union. You have a feeling it is hardly personal when it comes to him. 

“We can work things out if we disagree, can’t we?” You tell him. “We’re reasonable people… for the most part.”

At your last words, you hear Alhaitham huff in amusement, and his lips upturn into the smallest of smiles. You try not to look so bewildered when he tells you he’s going to get a cart, but you think that’s the first time you’ve seen him really smile.

You catch up to him the moment your heart stops leaping.

.

It’s fun shopping with Alhaitham. It’s nice having someone to ask for their opinions or taking turns pushing the cart with your collected items. You like to think Alhaitham doesn’t mind shopping with you either, mainly because he seems like the type of person to speak his mind, and he hasn’t complained about you taking too long to decide between what type of bowls you want for the apartment yet. (He chooses porcelain over plastic– microwavable safe.) 

For the most part, you aren’t a very imposing shopper, moving through aisles quickly and only glancing over the things that aren’t important. You do take some time sifting through the candles though, and Alhaitham clears through your hesitation between cranberry and peach by putting both stacks of candles into the cart. 

Just take them both– that definitely solves your problem of picking between the two. You try not to laugh at how his efficiency extends to shopping as well, even if it means indulging in your purchases. You think it's kind of cute of him, but you try not to let your hopeless romantic side speak too loudly (even if it's right!).

.

.

.

The moment Alhaitham finds an empty table, he brings his cart over and sits himself comfortably to wait for you. You’re at the middle of the line now to buy your frozen yogurt and cinnamon bun at the little shop at the exit. He lets his eyes follow your movement for a moment before he takes out his book from his bag to get some light reading in. 

Or so he had planned, but he takes the time of solitude to gather his thoughts.

Some people who don't know him well at all may say that he treats interactions with other people as though they were transactions. Tit-for-tat, this for that– but Alhaitham could care less about receiving any favors back. Truth is he will only do something if he truly wants to, so the thought that someone needs to pay him back for something he’s done that has benefitted them is unnecessary to him. He lives by his own set of rules and morals, and however everyone else does it is none of his business. 

It is his business, it turns out, when it comes to his roommate and fiancé: you. 

Maintaining a relationship requires equal effort from both sides. An uneven distribution of labor, for example, sharing chores and duties of the household is a one-way ticket to the destruction of a relationship. It only makes sense to him that the two of you will divvy up the workload and weigh in on decisions together. He gives back what you provide, and hopefully it will be the same when he does it as well. 

Like you said earlier, the two of you are reasonable adults. Thankfully. Alhaitham knows he has spoken with you at length during the first meeting and in short snippets since then, but he never really knows someone unless some time has passed. What are you like under stress? How will you react to unexpected situations? What will you do when the two of you fight? Power imbalances, as he has read, causes a greater rift when conflict occurs, so it’s best if he sets the precedence now for shared responsibility. 

Tit-for-tat, this for that– Alhaitham has never felt the need to return what is given but then again he’s never really attempted to make a relationship work now, has he? 

“Here you go.”

Alhaitham looks up from the book to see you hold out an ice cream cone toward him. He glances at your other hand to see another cone and at the table to see a cinnamon bun steaming from its small container. He takes the cone and you sit across from him, tearing off a piece of the cinnamon bun before smearing ice cream onto it. 

Before you take a bite out of the sweet, you look at him with growing confusion. “Oh, sorry,” you say, “did you not want the frozen yogurt? I guess I just assumed you would; I always get one when I come here.” 

“I don’t mind it. I actually enjoy sweets in moderation,” Alhaitham replies. Tit-for-tat, he thinks. “Let me pay you back for it.”

You wave a hand flippantly. “Nah, it’s okay. It’s really cheap anyways. You’re already paying for my gas so it’s really not a big deal. Here-” You slide the cinnamon bun roll closer to him. “Have some of this too. I got it for both of us.” 

A small wrench in his plans. Perhaps he’ll pay you back another time? In another way? Or would it bother you if he treated every favor and action like a transaction to be paid back– he hasn’t considered this yet, and hasn't taken into account your personality in regards to what he should do. To his knowledge, you are… quite honestly, reasonable. Even-tempered, adaptable, even easy-going: it may do him good to review his plan and make some changes.

Perhaps he’ll just follow after you for once. 

“Thank you,” he says, turning to his frozen yogurt and taking a taste. He looks up at you right in time to see you look away, smiling. For good measure, he rips a piece of cinnamon bun and, emulating you, smears the vanilla onto it.

It’s sweet. 

.

.

.

The apartment ends up being an amalgamation of both your styles. The bookshelves are his, the couch and television are yours, and all the utensils and cooking ware are all bought. You had taken Alhaitham with you to buy everything, but he had very little to contribute to when it came to style. He commented more on practicality and only when you had asked him to choose between two did he make a stylistic choice. You find that he is a minimalist at most except for when it comes to his books, his bookshelves specifically from his own room. You find that oddly endearing, and when you suggest he purchase bookends, he denies it only because he already has his own. 

For the most part, with the apartment, it feels like any agreement with a roommate. When will each person do their chores, what chores, how frequent? What are your schedules like? You tend to stay up late while Alhaitham is more than likely to sleep earlier to get his full night's rest. 

"I work at 9 AM so I'll most likely be awake by 8," he tells you, "and come home at around 5:30 PM."

"I'll let you know my schedule for each week," you offer. "It's not as consistent as yours so I might work weekends too." You laugh at the quick grimace from Alhaitham. "It's not too bad. It's not like I work weekdays AND weekends. It just depends." You check your watch. "I can cook for tonight," you tell him, rummaging through the newly stocked drawers for utensils. It's been cold lately, so you think some stew would taste nice. You glance up at him right as he nods, and you wonder if he would be open to eating together.

It would be your first meal together, and the thought makes you a little giddy. 

You open your mouth to say something when he speaks first. "Thanks," he says simply. He begins to turn away when you scramble to gather your courage and speak up again.

"Um, Alhaitham- ow!" You wave your hand in pain briefly after you bump it onto the corner of the drawer. 

"Yes?"

"Would it be okay if we ate dinner together?" You ask. The ladle is still in your right hand, making you feel more childish than you want to be. 

Alhaitham pauses for a second, and you hold on hope that at the very least, his first instinct isn't to say 'no.' "Based on your question," he says, "I'm assuming you mean for all our dinners, not just this one?"

Passively, yes, but you had intended to work up to asking him to eat dinner with you as a routine rather than come out the door with the suggestion. "Yeah," you say, not one to play coy. "I was thinking of tonight but if we could make it a 'thing' we do together that would be nice."

A part of you who still rejects the concept of an arranged marriage roils at the thought that you have to ask to eat dinner with your fiancé. The other part finds it a welcome challenge. And the other, larger part of you just wants to eat dinner with your fiancé; you try not to look so eager.

.

.

.

You are very adept at masking your emotions, as Alhaitham has observed. You are careful to not react when you ask him a question about his opinions on this or that so as to not sway him one way or another. You freely express yourself any other time though, your emotions painting your eyes, brows, and mouth to convey how you feel.

Alhaitham can see the way your eyes widen in anticipation and the grip on your ladle tighten as you hope that he says yes. He doesn't particularly find the idea whichever way. If anything, it is a natural thing to eat at the same time considering how you split your roles as cooks evenly. 

But, hm, eating together is more than just eating at the same time, isn't it? It means eating at the same table with your presence at the forefront. Luckily, he finds that you are not an unpleasant person to be with, so until further notice, Alhaitham finds no problems with doing this with you. It is only a matter of time for the two of you to get to know each other, if only to gauge for compatibility. Besides it's a small act for something that makes you giddy and smile all throughout dinner. 

There is no conversation at the table yet; you hardly know each other to come up with any worthwhile topics. But when he compliments your food for being flavorful (much like his mother's cooking, actually), he watches you hide your smile behind another bite of food before going into depth about the recipe.

Alhaitham thinks that you may be easy to please, but he finds that he does not mind that at all.

.

.

.

Alhaitham offers to do the dishes and it is hard for you not to beam at him at the suggestion. You clean up the table and set away any leftovers for another day. You don't have work tomorrow on this Tuesday but you know Alhaitham does so you glance over your shoulder and ask if he would like to pack lunch. 

His shoulders are broad and his back expansive when you look over. When he responds, you try to not look so dreamy.

"The leftovers?" He asks, glancing down at the bowl. "If you won't be needing it then I wouldn't mind taking it to work."

"Okay, then I'll pack it for you?"

"Thank you."

The tupperware seals cleanly over the dinner you made, and you place it into the fridge for Alhaitham tomorrow. You sneak another peek at him as he places the dishes onto the rack to dry. It's not as if you are easy to enamor, but the domesticity of him washing dishes makes your heart flutter with affection.

You're almost tempted to write a note for him on his lunch. Something cute, but not too much. Something basic to start with? You take another glance at Alhaitham before shaking your head. Best not to start off too strong; Alhaitham seems like the type of person to go at a steady, calm pace while you're the impatient one, trying to race off without preparations. 

Maybe you can write him a note next time?

.

.

.

Alhaitham is not a heavy sleeper, so when he feels you climb out of bed at around midnight, he wonders where you went if not straight to the restroom. You pad back to the room just as quietly as you left, much to your credit, and slide back under the sheets.

The next morning, Alhaitham readies for his day at work, brushing his teeth and washing his face with only basic soap and water-- you had stared at him enviously at the lack of product he uses-- as you sleep on in your shared bed, unaware of it all. He opens the fridge when he heads into the kitchen to find his packed lunch to see the tupperware with an addition sitting on top of it: a small bag of peeled orange slices and a note that he concludes must be in your handwriting. 

"Have a good day at work! The oranges are yours too. :)”

Alhaitham finds a pen on the counter and writes his own message below it before placing it onto the counter where you can easily find it. 

(It's a short 'thank you' from Alhaitham. It's not much, but it is something– or at least it's enough to put a smile on your face the next morning. You pick up the paper and let your eyes scan over the words. His handwriting is neat, to the point, and somewhat elegant, much like himself.

You sigh dreamily.)

It isn't unusual for Alhaitham to prepare meals and pack his own lunch. He goes for whatever tends to be available in his fridge or opts to eat in the first-floor cafe for the sake of convenience. Having someone pack his lunch is a novelty; the last time someone has done that for him was in middle school when his mother did it for him. 

It takes him the entire fifteen-minute commute to work for him to notice that he is still thinking about your note. That must be why you had stepped out last night: to write the note. Your handwriting is neat, rounded and connected as though you are used to thinking too quick for your hand to write. The note is ripped from a little notepad that you had brought over, like you're used to writing messages for little lunches that you make. Little details in the actions that he gets to find out. It gets his mind off of traffic well enough and even as he walks through the office building door.

The oranges are a nice touch. Alhaitham doesn't remember you peeling them before the two of you went off to bed, so you must have done it the same time you wrote the message. He'll be sure to remember to tell you not to put in the hassle of doing something that late at night; no need to waste time sleeping doing this for him. 

Alhaitham pauses his movement as he clocks into his workplace.

For some reason, the phrasing doesn't sit right with him. He has a feeling that it will only discourage you and push you to do more, which is the opposite of what he wants. He'll need to think of a better strategy to tell you, but that's a problem for later. He manages to dodge most of his coworkers on the way to his secretarial office where he sits on his ergonomic chair he purchased himself; no need to wear himself out doing his job, after all. 

He lets out a long breath as he turns on his monitor and checks his emails, only to find that he has two meetings to go to that morning that, based on the descriptions, might as well just be emails. It’s going to be one of those days, he thinks blandly and gets to work. 

.

Though most days pass by without much event, Alhaitham, much like anyone else, looks forward to the half-hour lunch break. He normally doesn’t need an alarm to remind him, because like clockwork, Dehya will come into his office and pop her head in. "Hey, Alhaitham," Dehya says, right at noon. "Nilou was asking the office if we wanted anything from the cafe so she could go grab it."

“No, I have lunch today,” Alhaitham says, and he doesn’t need to look at her to know that she shrugs before closing the door. With how loud it’s getting, it seems to be the cue for his break as well. 

The lunch he takes out from the tupperware is as good as it was yesterday. Alhaitham eats his lunch and wonders if this is the type of life he would have if he got married. So far, so good– though he supposes it's too early to say having only been living under the same room for a few days and speaking on regular terms only a few days more. The two of you are bound to find something to disagree on: it's only a matter of when. Though, for the first time, Alhaitham thinks perhaps it won't be as much of a hassle as it could be with you.

It's sweet, he thinks, popping a slice of oranges into his mouth. It seems to be a theme with you, if the past few days are of any indication. Alhaitham has yet to update his grandmother (or parents, by extension) but he can already feel the mild smugness she’ll exude when he eventually calls her and tells her how well it’s actually going. So far, anyways. The cynic in him knows they could be one argument away from dissolution, but he is anything if not a pragmatist. With how willing you are to compromise and to talk things through with him, he thinks there’s a possibility that the two of you can get through any possible conflict.

It’s a foreign feeling, he thinks, to have belief in something to last, but he supposes there is always a chance for something new, even for him. Something tells him that if you knew that was how he felt, you would be elated. 

You’re easy to please in that way, with your perpetual smile and abundant laughter; Alhaitham finds he does not mind that part of you at all.

#alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham #al haitham x reader #any guesses to where they went shopping flajsdflkajsfl #oh frozen yogurt how i love u

[quiverwingquack]

Please help two queer people and their cats out!!!

Hi again. I hate to be making another post like this, but we're really struggling right now.

The big hitters right now are that we have no rent money, or food. We've been skirting by by the skin of our teeth for awhile, watching out for the next emergency that would throw us back into the red. And here we are.

Last month, we had a big, pricy surprise: our oldest cat gained multiple diagnoses in a single visit. His bills are paid up for now, but he's due back in about 3 more weeks for more x-rays and tests, and he's been placed on medication permanently. The monthly cost of pet supplies has essentially doubled, just to care for him.

Meanwhile, we're behind on every bill. Our phones have been off more often than not in the last two months. We're out of food, laundry detergent, soap. We're in danger of losing heat, electric, internet. Because management at my job is pretty unreliable, I can never predict how many hours I'm gonna get, but it often doesn't reach 20, when I'm meant to be full time. It's been impossible to stay on top of things due to this. We're both applying and interviewing everywhere we can, but we haven't had any luck getting any other source of income. And we could really, really use some help right now.

We've been getting by on as little as we possibly can, for years now. We don't have hot water, or a working stove/oven, or proper flooring and insulation to keep the cold out. Often, the cats eat and we don't. Neither of us can drive, so we can't go anywhere without paying for a ride, and we don't have anyone supportive living in the area. Asking for help like this is basically all we have left. It's shaping up to be a pretty miserable holiday season, but we're both very grateful for anything.

Reblogs are very, very appreciated. Tumblr is only making it harder to circulate posts like this, so every reblog is important. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts to anyone who donates or reblogs.

Paypal // Venmo // Kofi

#please reblog this post! it’s very important to us

[catboybiologist]

so I went to college for a year on my parents dime, but the second year I suffered from severe burnout and returned to live with my parents and went back to my high school job, and now I’m just utterly terrified of the future as my job doesn’t even pay enough to make rent much less any other of the other physiological needs and I despise my parents but any path forward that I can imagine involves being dependent on them and the second year of college got so stressful I can’t imagine myself ever completing a degree, and you seem to have your shit together to a degree and I don’t even know what to ask but I just feel so hopeless

I hope this response is at least a little helpful. You're cutting deeply at something that a lot of people have experienced. I sympathize deeply. It's okay. And to tell you the truth, I don't have my shit together, and I'm at a similar crossroads to you. I'll elaborate on my own personal path after the cut, but if you want some advice, here's mine:

You're not gonna power yourself through burnout. You're not a failure, and what you're doing is okay. You need to take a real, hard look at what makes you happy. Not what career you want, what makes you happy. If that's your career, wonderful. If it's not your career, that's great too. It's okay to pause to reevaluate. Give yourself the patience you need. You're okay, and you will figure it out. But you can't power yourself through burnout. Something has to change. I can't tell you what. You're gonna have to figure that out, unfortunately.

But don't try to suffer through a degree that will make you miserable. You have to plan for the future, of course, but you need to remember that you're living in the present as well.

So how do you go forward? As I see it, you have two options: go back to school when you're rested a little, but in a different field than before (or a different approach like trade school or an associate's degree), or try to find a path forward that simplifies your life enough financially to make it on your own. Neither are easy. Both are possible, but brutally difficult.

You can slowly dip your toes into either option. Find out alternate jobs. Take classes from community college or online in a variety of subjects. But if you don't want to do any of that, its okay not to as well.

Take your time with yourself. I believe in you. But remember to enjoy yourself when you can. It's okay to be hurt. But you can try to love yourself too.

My overall point is: if you commit yourself to misery, it becomes addicting. The longer you resign yourself to living your life in a way that actively burns you out and doesn't make you happy, the harder it becomes to break that pattern. I spent a while that way myself. You don't have to read further, but if you want to hear my own personal vent and relation to this, you can if you want.

To tell you the truth, I'm considering quitting my PhD at some point. I'm still very undecided, but right now, I'm basically holding out until I can take my summer quarter off. Even if I wasn't doing that to socially transition, I need that to figure out what I'm going do with my life, and whether I want to complete this degree.

I've done a LOT of things I regret. And they were all in the name of committing myself to my own misery, and a lot of that was tied to academia, and appeasing my family. At first, I started giving up on dreams I had that weren't academia related (Mt. Whitney was a huge one, and longer thru hikes as well). It snowballed into a point where I didn't know how not to be miserable anymore, and I was actively suffering through things that I refused to change, simply because

That's... why I delayed transitioning so long. The first and last thought on my mind about it, the entire time I was getting my undergrad degree, was about how transitioning would affect my education, and my career.

I only started posting my first "femboy" pictures online in Fall 2021. At the time, I was deeply engrained into a really, really shitty situation, that I was doubling down on because I didn't want to impede the progress of my master's degree. I was trapped. I started posting the pictures because, well, I was in "fuckit, if I wanna kms anyways, might as well get some fun in before I do it". If anyone wants more detail, I might talk in DM, but it would mostly be me venting. For you, anon, I think my details aren't that important. I'm still scared of talking about it publicly even now, and I still regret getting into that situation every day.

Getting out of that was my breaking point. I realized that I needed to start living my life for me. I chose my PhD institution and lab in part because of available LGBT acceptance and resources, and started HRT about a year into my PhD when I was a bit settled.

And I love what I do! I still do! I love science!! I still love biology and research and the coding I do for it and discussing it and presenting it and all of it!!!! But is it worth it? Does I love it enough? And can I keep doing it?

I need to figure it out. And it sounds like you do too. Your individual considerations may be different, but its ultimately the same consideration: how happy will this make you, vs how miserable it will make you.

And that is a HUGE question, that won't be answered overnight. You're right to take a break and tackle it. I believe in you <3

#cw suicide

[harringtonswriting]

the one where chaos comes out to play | s.h.

summary: steve hates thursdays, and thursdays hate steve. today is no exception, except that the green goblin has decided to try and hurt him in a brand new way, and steve isn't sure he can keep going if the worst comes to pass (modern!au; spidey!steve universe) pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader word count: 7.4k warning(s): language; some violence (fight scenes); mentions of injuries/blood notes: HI HELLO ITS SPIDEY!STEVE TIME !!!! thank u all for being so patient; i know this is much longer than normal but i was SO excited for it and i loved the idea!! thank u to the two anons who requested this; i kind of combined the two requests into one, i hope that's okay! also it's the first real introduction for a villain, and there's plenty more to come... i hope you enjoy!!

...

Steve thought he’d been careful. Always did his best to be as careful and as conspicuous as he can where the people he loves are concerned so that nothing about his activities as Spider-Man could be traced back to them. He doesn’t swing Robin to work in costume when she’s running late; he only rescues Ozzy from the roof of Eddie’s building when absolutely necessary (which probably happens more often than it should, but the fuzzball loves it when Steve makes a web-sling to carry him around in); and he does everything possible to keep the dangers of his life as Spider-Man away from you. In public, at least.

But in private? He’s at your place all the time. Probably too often, considering how much he pays in rent for his place across the hall from you, but as long as he gets to spend time with you he won’t complain (to you, but Robin isn’t quite so lucky considering she lives with him). Ever since he’d first seen you the day he moved into his crappy little apartment in this too old building, when you peeked out at him carrying too many boxes at once, he’d decided he needed to get to know you (which he did, with all the ups and downs that came with it). Now you’re one of his best friends, one of the few people who know he’s Spider-Man, someone he cherishes totally and completely (though he’ll deny it because having you in his life as a friend is enough, at least for now), and also someone he’d never, ever risk getting hurt.

But Steve must have slipped up at some point, and the universe really decided to make him pay for it. Steve and you.

It’s a Thursday. Nothing good ever happens on a Thursday, not for Steve; he’s pretty sure he was brought into this world on a Thursday, and it always seems like the universe is trying to take him out on the same day. It’s usually the day that he’s stuck running around after crazed supervillains who want to destroy half the city because it’s Thursday and that’s just what they wanna do on Thursdays for shits and giggles. Like today, with the Green Goblin playing explosion tag with him and yelling out nonsense.

Okay, well, it was actually something like, “Heroism is a fool’s errand!” and, “Chaos will destroy everything you love!” But honestly, this is the third time this month that the Green Goblin has pulled something like this and Steve is very quickly running out of patience. This time, though, it’s harder than normal for Steve to try and keep the villain contained in a single area of the city. It almost feels as if Goblin is toying with him, more so than usual, and is trying to lead Steve into something.

Steve’s wary of the psychotically jolly green man on a good day; despite not being as superpowered as some of the other bad guys Steve sees on the regular, Goblin learns and observes and always manages to have some kind of ace up his sleeve. And today, the taunts he gets as he tries to bring the villain down are just that much more smug than usual; Goblin also has some new gadgets, which includes a pumpkin bomb that turns into a small flying bladed monstrosity that hurts like a bitch when they make contact with him. This suit is already torn up and Steve is going to have a hell of a time repairing it, if it even can be repaired at this point. And this one is new, too… Thursdays really suck.

So here Steve is, using his webs to grab a large chunk of the side of a building and fling it away from a group of terrified bystanders on the sidewalk and up onto the roof of a nearby building—well, onto the rooftop garden that’s probably going to need to be re-landscaped, but it had entirely too many topiaries for Steve’s taste so he figures he’s doing them a favour. They’ll save a ton on having to get them removed, and maybe now they can put in a rooftop pool with the new hole they’ll have.

One of these days he’s gonna get sued for property damage, but today is (hopefully) not that day, so he swings back towards the Green Goblin, who’s currently hovering near a rooftop down the block. Steve makes sure that the bystanders are out of harm’s way for now (though he’s sure he’s going to read all about how he’s the one who put them in danger in tomorrow’s edition of the Daily Bugle) before he sends out some webs with a thwip! to swing himself towards the roof that Goblin is currently hovering over. Only this time, unlike every other time Steve has gotten close enough to land a clean hit, the green menace doesn’t try to leave his position. It’s more than a little odd, but Steve hopes that maybe it means his Thursday is taking a turn for the better.

It’s not.

As Steve swings closer, Goblin lets out a loud, ear-splitting cackle behind the creepy mask that he somehow thinks is a good fashion choice as he swoops down towards the roof. Steve throws out another line of webbing, swinging himself up to get a clearer view of what’s going on. The Green Goblin is grabbing something—or someone, Steve realizes, who’d been on that rooftop.

He feels it at the base of his skull, tingling and quivering both down through his spine and up through his head. Something is way off, worse than he’s felt in a long time, and his Spidey-Sense is warning him that something really bad is about to happen really quickly. The quip he’d been holding onto, something really great about how if Green Goblin was having problems with his glider, they make pills for that now, dies in his throat. Steve lands on the side of an adjacent building, watching Goblin fly up holding the person from the roof.

It’s you.

Steve feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him, seeing the Green Goblin holding you up by the throat to dangle you over the edge of his glider. All sound around him immediately stops, save for the frantic sound of his own heart hammering and thumping against his ribcage, aiming to shatter it. That would probably hurt less, he thinks, than seeing how terrified you look right now. Your wrists are bound together in front of you in a way Steve can’t imagine is very comfortable, and he has to take some very deep breaths through his nose to stop himself from screaming your name.

Why are you here? Why does Goblin have you? How long has he had you? A million and one questions are running through Steve’s head, faster than usual, almost too fast to keep up with. You’re in your work clothes, though they’re beyond rumpled and a little torn now; did Goblin grab you at work? On your home from work? From the apartment building? God, Steve really hopes Goblin doesn’t know where you live; if he’s taken away the safety of your home from you, Steve doesn’t know what he can do to fix that.

How did anyone link you back to Steve? He’s been careful, he thought he’d been so careful to keep you out of his life. Does the Goblin know who Steve really is? Oh god, what does that mean for you? For Robin or Eddie, or Dustin or Max or Nancy, or anyone else who’s connected to Steve Harrington? Shit, he’s gotta get this figured out fast.

He’s never been more thankful than he is now that his mask covers his entire face, because he’s really not sure he could hide the emotions he’s sure are twisting and contorting his features. What started out as cold fear trickling down his back and into his stomach has partially turned to molten hot anger is thrumming through his chest; it makes for an odd combination of sensations while his mind is trying to put together any kind of plan to get you away from here and somewhere, anywhere, that’s safe.

“Let her go, Goblin!” Steve is trying to keep his tone as even as he can, hoping that the desperation he’s feeling isn’t obvious enough in his voice that the Green Goblin will pick up on it. He moves one hand up, getting ready to swing closer when the Goblin rises a bit higher in the air on his glider and holds out the hand not currently wrapped around your neck.

“Ah, ah, ah, Spider-Man! Come any closer and my hand may just slip,” the Goblin taunts, his hand loosening slightly on your neck as he pretends to almost drop you. Or maybe he’s not pretending; that guy’s mind is a bag full of barn cats on a good day, and today is not a very good day at all. You can’t help the noise you make, a strangled sort of shriek, as your fingers scramble to find purchase and hold onto the wrist of the hand that’s holding you up. It’s not very easy with your wrists bound, Steve imagines, but you do your best. He sees the kick you send in Goblin’s direction, which is more than likely intended to harm rather than help your balance, and there’s a tiny prick of fondness to Steve’s heart. That’s his girl. Well, okay, not his, per se, but close enough.

“Take it easy, Gobbie, I’m gonna stay right here.” For now. That stays unspoken, but Steve is trying to look for any opportunity to get you out of there. “You know, there are much better ways to make friends than this if you’re feeling lonely, y’know, that don’t reek of desperation and eau de jolly green giant.”

“I’ve been watching you, Spider-Man,” the Green Goblin says, hovering a little higher and putting his free hand behind his back as he ignores Steve’s jab at him. Which is a pity, really, because Steve was hoping it might start something and Steve could make him mad enough to put you back down on the roof and out of harm’s way. “And I’ve noticed that you’ve come to her aid more than a few times.”

Shit. Okay. That’s not what Steve was expecting. The Green Goblin has been spying on him, which is a weird enough concept, but he’s been paying close enough attention to pick you out of crowds of people that Steve has saved. He thought he’d been more careful than that; but when he thinks back on it, he realizes that there’ve been at least two incidents this month where you’d been caught up in something he’s taken care of as Spider-Man, and definitely once or twice that you’ve covered for him as Steve so he could go save the day. And Goblin had been watching, had been able to see you and connect you to Spider-Man. That has Steve’s stomach twisting, and he can’t help fidgeting as he tries to think up an excuse fast enough.

“It’s my job to save people, Gobbie. You know, you put them in danger and I rescue them, usually looking dashing in the process,” Steve fires back, gesticulating with one hand. He’s trying to be as nonchalant as he can, and he really hopes it’s working. He really needs to break that mask Green Goblin is wearing, and any other spares he’s got, because being unable to read his facial expressions would be very helpful in situations like this. Plus, it’s absolutely the stuff of nightmares and Steve could save a lot of people a lot of money on therapy bills if he smashed it to pieces. Maybe then he’d get a good piece of news printed about him. “Maybe she just hangs out in bad parts of the city. Or maybe bad guys think she’s good looking. You and I both know Kingpin’s henchmen always go for pretty people; they aren’t on the deep end of the gene pool.”

“I told you that I don’t know Spider-Man!” you yell out as best you can, though your voice sounds more than a little strained to Steve. He’s gotta make a move and he’s gotta do it sooner rather than later because he needs to get you as far away from here as possible.

“Hmm… so you don’t care what happens to her, then?” Goblin asks, and he loosens his grip once more. Steve reaches forward, unable to help himself as he reacts on instinct. You shriek again, kicking out and catching the Green Goblin on his side. He growls at you, flying up a little higher before turning back to Steve. “Then it’s time to choose, Spider-Boy!” Goblin says, cackling loudly. “Will you save her?” His hand tightens around your throat, and the pained noise you make has Steve’s jaw clenching. “Or will you save them?”

Goblin’s free hand, which Steve had not been looking at as closely as he should have been while you’re in danger, comes out from behind his back holding three pumpkin bombs. He waves that hand towards what Steve sees is a group of civilians, standing down below and watching this interaction like it’s some kind of sport to them.

His stomach twists and his chest tightens as his Spidey-Sense goes absolutely haywire. Shit. Shit. How is he supposed to choose between the people down there and you? Can he save everyone? He has to save everyone, he’s Spider-Man.

He’s not given time to make an actual choice, however, because Green Goblin is throwing the pumpkin bombs and then the hand he has around your throat disappears. You start to fall down towards the street below and Steve realizes that he’s going to have to move faster than he’s ever had to before because he absolutely can’t lose you. Not like this, not ever.

He lunges forward in your direction, pushing himself off the wall to give himself as much momentum as he can. While he’s soaring through the air, trying to position himself to be able to catch you, he launches some webs with his right hand up towards the three flying pumpkin bombs. He’s trying to web them together, hopefully turning them into one bigger webby blob ball to better keep track of them—and to make sure they get back to the place they came from.

He manages to catch the first two and lump them together as the blinking green lights on the front of the bombs start speeding up. When they stop blinking completely, that’s when they blow up; Steve knows that from unfortunate personal experience. His eyebrows haven’t been the same since that last time. He shoots another web to grab the third, bringing them all together as he manages to catch up to where you’re currently falling.

Steve tries to be as gentle as he can as he uses his free hand to grab you around your waist, but he’s pretty sure there’ll be bruises there tomorrow. He’ll feel bad about that once the two of you get out of this, because right now your safety is his priority and he needs to make sure you get out of this. He slips your arms around his neck, turning your bodies as best he can so that he’s below you and looking up at the twistedly jolly masked face of the Goblin.

Now’s his chance. Steve swings the ball in the direction of where the Goblin is flying confidently above the two of you, as hard and as fast as he can before releasing the web strand. As soon as he’s done that, as quickly as he can, Steve shoots another web up to tether the two of you to a balcony on the side of the building. He feels your arms tighten around his neck as the web helps slow your fall, and he feels a small wave of relief settle over his shoulders as the two of you hit the ground.

He’s about to open his mouth and say something when there’s a very loud BOOM! from up above, followed by a shriek. Yeah, that had to hurt. Which Steve really hoped it did. But if it didn’t… Well, Steve was going to make sure Goblin knew what it felt like to hurt. And he was going to do it now, before the jolly green bastard had a chance to run away.

He removes your arms from their spot around his neck and makes sure that you’re steady on your feet before he rips the rope binding your wrists. He makes sure to keep his touch gentle as he takes hold of your shoulders, looking at you through his mask.

“Get somewhere safe!” he urges you. You open your mouth, looking as if you want to say something, but he shakes his head. “Now!” His tone leaves zero room for argument, and while he regrets seeing the way it causes your forehead to furrow and your posture to shrink, he will not let you get hurt again.

You nod, and then you’re turning to find somewhere to take cover until this is over. Steve watches you go before he turns to look up towards the roof of the building. He can see Goblin, looking much worse for wear, trying to ride a rapidly smoking and sparking glider. Definitely not having fun, and Steve is not going to let this guy get away.

Steve shoots two webs, one from each hand, at two balconies on the top floor of the building. He walks backwards as quickly as he can to pull the webs taut. Then he lets go of each simultaneously as he jumps up, letting them slingshot him up as fast as possible so that he can launch himself directly at the flying green menace. He manages to land a kick to Goblin’s stomach, knocking him off his glider. The two of them crash down onto the roof of the building and Steve takes advantage of the element of surprise he gains to make sure he lands on top of the villain to pin him down and start throwing punches wherever they’ll land.

Steve chooses to let the rage he felt earlier bubble back up to the surface as his fists start cracking against Goblin’s helmet, his shoulders, his chest… anything that he can reach, he hits. Steve thinks about the terrified look on your face, about the noises you made with the Green Goblin’s hand around your throat, about what would have happened if he hadn’t caught you in time… He keeps punching until his arm aches and he’s sure his knuckles have split and he can see the blood splattered across the rooftop underneath them. Goblin’s helmet has cracked and split, small chunks of it littering the rooftop beneath his head. There’s a chunk missing now, and Steve can’t find it in himself to be anything other than overwhelmingly furious. Both at Goblin and at himself.

Steve pauses, just for a second, when he sees something glinting where the chunk of the mask is missing. He looks closer, and when he does, he catches sight of one pale blue eye staring back up at him before smoke starts to cloud his vision.

Shit. Green Goblin let off a smoke bomb. Steve is taken by surprise, and starts to cough as he feels smoke enter his lungs. He tries to clear the smoke away with his hands, but it’s coming fast and thick from below him and it’s not letting up. He shifts, closing his eyes, and that’s when he feels an elbow catch him in the cheek before he’s knocked off of the Green Goblin. He makes contact with the concrete of the roof and damn, that hurts. He groans, still coughing, but as he opens his eyes he notices the smoke start to dissipate. He gets up, trying to wave it away, and as he does so he sees that Goblin has gotten back on his glider and is currently flying away.

Damn it. Steve falls back onto his butt on the rooftop, breathing a little easier now that the smoke is dissipating, though he’s still frustrated that Goblin got away. Thursdays really are the worst.

He doesn’t stay down long, though, because he can hear the sound of sirens getting closer and he really does not want to stick around to have to deal with any cops today. He doesn’t have the most patience for them on a good day, and since today is not a good day, he’s going to avoid that mess as best he can.

As the sirens get louder, Steve scrambles over to the side of the roof to peer down. He catches sight of the police cars coming in fast, and sees the crowd down on the streets has started to get bigger now that the Green Goblin has taken off to lick his wounds. And among the crowd, he manages to pick you out. Relief washes over him like he’s taken a drink of something warm on a very cold day (which he absolutely wants to do later, hot chocolate is calling his name). It eases the knots in his chest, especially as he sees you walking out of the area and in the direction of your shared apartment building.

You’re safe. You stayed behind instead of leaving, but you’re okay and you’re heading in the direction of home. And he’s gonna meet you there to make sure you’re okay—or get you the help you need if you’re not. Which he knows he’ll have Robin’s backup on too (though she probably won’t be too happy if she sees he’s bruised and bloody, too).

He moves back from the edge of the roof, moving to the other side to jump a few buildings over as discreetly as he can in red and blue spandex. He knows he’s got an old backpack with some spare clothes in it around here somewhere that he’s going to change into; after what just happened, with Green Goblin linking you to Spider-Man, he doesn’t want to take any risks that might lead someone back to where you both live. Not after today, after being slapped in the face with the reality of how dangerous his life is.

Aha, there it is! Steve finds one of his backpacks webbed behind some shrubbery, and he’s quick to grab it and start going through the contents. God, is he ever thankful for his own forgetfulness right now. He’s got to have an embarrassingly high number of backpacks, duffle bags, gym bags, and the like hiding all over the city at this point, and he’s glad he remembered this one. It’s got a full outfit in it, thankfully, as well as an old set of keys he thought he’d lost; it’s the one with the ‘Let’s go, Lesbians!’ keychain Robin had given him, which he hadn’t told her was missing so this works in his favour.

He jumps down off the roof, bag in hand, and ducks into a secluded alleyway to change out of his suit as quickly and inconspicuously as he can (though he does end up hopping around quite a bit trying to get his torn up suit off and his jeans on). He packs his suit into the backpack before he’s shrugging it onto his shoulders and dipping out of the alley to make his way home.

He gets there pretty quickly, though you’re nowhere in sight as he bounds up the steps to the building and uses his keys to let himself in. Steve moves through the lobby, groaning as he sees that unfortunately, the elevators are still out of service. He hasn’t had time to completely take stock of all his injuries yet, but he knows from his walk to the building that his right leg is not gonna like having to climb five flights of stairs. But you’re upstairs, and Robin probably is too, and he needs to see you and make sure you’re alright. So he takes a deep breath and starts to climb the stairs.

By the time he makes it up to the floor your apartments are on, he’s just a little out of breath and his right thigh absolutely hates him. But he makes it, and that’s what matters, so Steve makes his way to where your door and his door sit across the hall from each other. He’s not exactly sure if you would have gone to your own apartment first, so he makes his way to your door and presses his ear against it. He really hopes none of the neighbours decide to leave their apartments or look out into the hall because this will look really weird. Not the weirdest thing Steve’s done since he moved in here, but still.

He doesn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. He waits for a few more minutes, just to be sure, before he moves away from your door and heads to his. Now he can hear voices, low and muted behind the surprisingly sturdy wood of the door, as he fishes his keys back out of his pocket and uses them to unlock the door. He pushes it open, stumbling slightly over the lip in the doorway as he comes inside.

As Steve closes the door behind him and toes his own shoes off, he catches sight of Robin’s boots and your shoes sitting haphazardly on the mat by the door. The relief that washes over him is immediate, knowing you made it home and you’re here with Robin, who will absolutely make sure that you’re okay. The fact that your shoes are still here means that you’re not hurt enough to need to go to the hospital, which eases the knots in his stomach just a bit. He absolutely doesn’t know what he’d do if he was the reason you ended up in a hospital.

He drops his bag by the door and hangs up his keys on their hook before he makes his way down the small front hall and into the living room. As he rounds the corner and the living room comes into sight, he sees Robin perched on the coffee table, directly in front of where he sees you sitting on their armchair. Both of you are looking in his direction, and he tries to offer up a smile as he walks fully into the room and raises one hand in a wave.

“Steven Augustus Harrington!” Robin yells, getting up off the coffee table (barely managing to avoid knocking over the Lego flowers that Will had given them as a housewarming gift) to stomp over to him. The effect is slightly undermined by the giant fuzzy bumblebee slippers she’s wearing, and Steve sighs as fond exasperation for his best friend and roommate wins over any annoyance he feels. You stay seated, albeit perched on the edge of the chair, but Steve can see the way your shoulders go from being up near your ears to slumping down to where they normally rest that you’re relieved to see him, too.

“That’s not my name,” he tells her, but she disregards it with a wave of her hand. Her nose is scrunched and her eyebrows are furrowed as she starts looking him over.

“What the fuck, Steve? Are you okay?” she asks, before she starts going off on him about personal safety and not to rush into danger like that—he’s not exactly paying as close attention as he probably should be. He’s assuming she either found out what happened from you or online—he knows she’s got alerts set up for any news stories or social media posts about Spider-Man (which he knows because every time that stupid #SpideyFails account posts she’s gotta share it with all of their friends). But Steve doesn’t really want to talk about himself or how badly that fight with the Green Goblin went right now; he’d much rather make sure you’re okay, find out what happened and just… he wants to talk to you. He needs to talk to you. To make sure you’re okay; you’re quiet, too quiet, and the more time goes by the more worried he’s getting.

“Robin, I’m fine,” he assures her, though the little line between her eyebrows only gets deeper as she stares at him. Steve rolls his eyes and nods his head in the direction of her bedroom door. She tilts her head to the side, and Steve gestures a little more forcefully, hoping she’ll take the hint that he wants some privacy with you. Robin raises an eyebrow, and Steve nods again, this time in your direction

He sees realization spread across Robin’s face, and she turns to look at you. You’d been staring at them, Steve realizes, and you look away when they both meet your gaze. Robin shakes her head slightly, walking in your direction. She gently places a hand on your shoulder and rubs it before she grabs the first aid kit Steve hadn’t realized was on the coffee table, throwing it at Steve. He barely manages to catch it, fumbling it a bit before he’s sure he won’t drop it.

“Use your tingle next time, dingus!” she says, shuffling off in her fuzzy bumblebee slippers. She disappears into her room, closing the door behind her with a very audible click of her lock. Which leaves Steve alone in the living room with you.

He makes his way over to where Robin was sitting earlier, plunking himself down on the edge of the coffee table. His right leg absolutely does not like that, but it’ll heal soon enough. He’s close enough that his knees brush against yours, and despite the worry weighing his shoulders down, he feels his cheeks get warm at how close he is to you. Your eyes meet his, and he tries to smile at you.

“Hey,” he says, fingers tapping against the first aid box he’s keeping in his lap. You don’t smile back, but you do take a deep breath.

“Hey,” you greet back, and to Steve’s ears your voice sounds more than a little strained, and a bit too raspy for his liking. That’s when he starts to look you over more closely, taking stock of your injuries.

His heart falls because you’re hurt worse than he thought. Sure, he was expecting some cuts and bruises, but he didn’t know you were this hurt. There’s harsh bruising that’s starting to appear on your neck–that’s where Goblin was holding you. Where his hands were wrapped around your neck, holding you in the air before he dropped you. When Steve closes his eyes, he can still hear your screams, can still see how you look plummeting through the air while he tries to reach you. He swallows the saliva starting to gather in his mouth because that image is going to be one that sticks with him whether he wants it to or not.

There are some other cuts and bruises he can see as well, on your face and on your hands, and he’s pretty sure your work clothes probably won’t be workplace acceptable anymore. He makes a mental note to take you to buy new ones as soon as he gets his next pay, even though you’ll try to refuse them and tell him it’s not his fault your clothes are ruined.

Except it is. In this case, it is Steve’s fault. His being Spider-Man has put you in danger and he’ll do everything he can to make up for it. And he’s going to start now, by helping clean you up. He opens the first aid kit in his hands, pulling out some disinfectant and some gauze and bandages. “Can I…?” he asks. He looks between them and you, and you nod your head so he starts to get to work.

He cleans the cuts on your face first, wiping the blood off your cheeks and your chin before he starts disinfecting the small cuts there. Your nose scrunches up in pain, and he apologizes quietly for any pain he’s causing you. His heart is beating erratically against his ribcage and his hands tremble slightly as he works, but he does his best to help you.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment before he has to ask, “Why did you stay? I told you to get somewhere safe.” Because the thought of you being in any more danger than you’d originally been in isn’t a good one; if anything had happened to you afterwards, if Steve had been paying attention and not gotten hit in the face with a smoke bomb and the fight had spilled out off the rooftop again and put you in harm’s way again… he doesn’t want to think about it. His brain, though, still hates him and makes him imagine it anyway. He presses a bandaid on your cheek before he starts cleaning the bruise on your neck.

“I needed to make sure you were okay.” You scoot closer to Steve, close enough that he can count the eyelashes on your lower lash line. He can smell the dirt and the blood on you, mixing with the faint scent of your shampoo and body wash. But your words make his gut twist.

“No you didn’t!” His words come out a little louder and a little more forceful than he means, but he’s starting to feel frustration thrum through his body, warming him in a way that has his chest start to burn. Hearing those words come out of you any other time would probably have had the opposite effect on him; you needed to make sure he’s okay? Caring about him like that? It’s probably friendly, but it’d have Steve smiling the rest of the day. Right now, though, he’s not happy to hear you say that “You needed to get out of there. Goblin is dangerous, you can’t be around him!”

Steve drops the medical supplies back into the first aid kit on his lap, reaching his hands up to tangle in his hair instead. It’s knotty; that happens sometimes, when he shoves it under the mask without brushing it or after he gets it wet, and he winces as his fingers encounter a particularly bad tangle. You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back in the armchair.

“You have no right to lecture me when I’ve thought I was gonna lose you more times than I can count!” Your voice is rising in pitch, but Steve stays firm where he is. “How many times have I had to see, on the news or on Twitter, that you were getting thrown around by Doc Ock? Or blown up by Green Goblin? And I’m not even going to talk about the giant lizard you chased through the sewers last week!” Yeah, the lizard guy was a relatively new bad guy that no one had believed Steve about until he managed to get the creature to come up onto the street. This one was probably gonna be smelly. “And then you show up at my window, bleeding and half-dead, and I’m supposed to clean you up and be okay with that?”

One of your hands comes to push against his chest, a line appearing between your eyebrows as you frown at him. He feels the warmth spread further as he gets more frustrated because you’re not getting that this is what Steve does, this is what it means to be Spider-Man. He needs to protect people from being blown up or turned into lizards. Would you want to be a lizard? He doesn’t think so. You’d probably be a pretty lizard, potentially, but he’s not sure he wants to see that.

“Yes, because I can take it! I am the one who got bit by that stupid spider, not you!” Which is the truth; Steve knows he can take a beating and keep on going; it’s one of the few good things that came out of that visit to the CreelCorp plant. Yeah, maybe he lets himself go a bit too far sometimes, but it’s to protect the people of the city, and the people he loves. It’s to protect you, and if he loses a little (or a lot of) blood and has a broken bone or four, then it’s worth it. It’ll always be worth it to him. But apparently not to you, because you throw your hands up in the air.

“So? Why does that matter right now?”

“Because I almost lost you!” The flood gates open, and words come pouring out of Steve’s mouth before he can think to stop himself. “I could have lost you, and when I saw Goblin with you I thought I was going to lose you and I could never live with myself if that happened. If I lose you then there’s no point! The mask, the suit, everything! I won't keep going without you. The world can live without Spider-Man but I could never live without you!”

This is not how Steve wanted to do this. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to tell you how he really felt about you because the thought of you not feeling the same and pulling away from him if he confessed? Not a good one. He never wanted to lose you in any capacity, but after having this happen he can’t keep it inside anymore. Really, you deserved better; you deserve someone who can keep you safe, whose entire existence doesn’t put you in danger. You deserve someone who can give you all the time and attention you could ever want, and probably wouldn’t run the risk of getting blown up or stabbed or missing your birthday because of a lizard who wants to give the city a cold-blooded makeover (which is, unfortunately, a very real possibility these days).

But god, does Steve love you. His chest aches with how much he loves you, how much he wants to hold you close and keep you safe. How much he hates himself for letting this happen to you, for letting you get hurt and letting himself be stupid enough to not realize what the Green Goblin had been doing. You were always there for him, letting him crawl through your bedroom window and ruin your rugs as you patch him up; letting him stay over at yours so he doesn’t worry Robin more than he already does. You take care of him, and you see him as both Steve and Spider-Man without treating him any differently. You’re witty and funny and kind, and you don’t treat him any differently knowing who he is and what he can do. And he’d never, ever want to live without you. He couldn’t do it, because he’s absolutely sure his heart only exists to beat for you, to tattoo your name across his ribcage. And he’d never want things to be any different.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts, though, by something tugging him forward before his lips are meeting something soft and warm. It takes his brain a second to catch up with his body, though.

Oh.

You’re kissing him. Steve is pretty sure his Spidey-Sense combusts completely along with his brain because your lips are on his and one of your hands is fisted in the front of his shirt. He’s not completely sure he isn’t dreaming until his right thigh bumps against the coffee table as he moves forward, leaning into the kiss, and it stings. Pain has never made him feel so giddy.

He’s awake. You’re kissing him, and this is real, and all the frustration Steve had been holding onto melts into fondness, into giddy excitement as his lips move against yours. They fit together better than he could have imagined.

One of his hands comes up to brush against your neck on its way to cup your cheek, and he feels you flinch. Oh, god, your neck. He’d completely forgotten about the bruising while he was caught up in the whirlwind of finally being able to kiss you.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologizes, but you shush him. Your one hand is still gripping his shirt tightly, but your other comes up to push his hair out of his face. Your touch is gentle, the pads of your fingers feather light against his forehead, and he leans into your touch.

“S’okay, it’s not your fault,” you tell him. He presses his forehead to yours, panting slightly as your warm breath fans across his face. “Did you mean that? What you said about losing me?” Steve nods, and for the first time since this messy Thursday started Steve starts to feel like maybe the day isn’t so terrible because he sees a smile start stretching across your face. You’re here, you’re alive, and you kissed him. And he absolutely word vomited his feelings all over you, but you’re still here. And you kissed him. Did he mention that already? Yeah, he’s gonna think about that for a while.

“I’ll always do everything I can to protect you. I’d do anything for you,” he assures you, before continuing, “I promise I meant it. All of it.”

The way your eyes sparkle and he can see you perk up and look so much more like yourself as he says that has Steve feeling like the stick of butter he accidentally left on the stove the other day when he turned it on to make dinner; warm and melty. He loves it. “Me too,” you tell him. “I feel the same for you.”

The kiss had kind of confirmed that, but hearing it out loud seals the deal. Steve loves you, you at the very least like him like him, and he got to kiss you once. He wants to do that more than once, and right now seems like a fantastic time. But right as he goes in to take some initiative of his own and kiss you this time, Robin’s door flies open and she comes tumbling out into the living room. Steve jumps, his knees smashing into yours as he almost falls backwards onto the coffee table. You lean back in the chair too, looking over at Robin, who gets up and dusts herself off. Steve sees she has her phone in her hand, and her cheeks are bright pink as she stares at the two of you with her mouth agape.

“Oh my god, were you two finally about to kiss?” she asks, and Steve groans loudly because the moment is officially ruined. He was so close, too! God, yeah, Thursdays really do suck.

“Damn it, Robin!” he yells, dropping his face into his hands.

“No, no, pretend I’m not here! Go ahead!”

“We’re not gonna kiss with you watching! That’s weird!”

“No it’s not!” Robin insists. You shake your head, watching the two of them going back and forth. “Ugh, this is so unfair! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen?”

“Not as long as me, I promise you that!” He moves one hand off of his face to throw a roll of soft bandages in Robin’s direction. It doesn’t sound like it connects, but he’ll get her back for this later.

He hears your phone start buzzing so much it falls off the arm of the chair. Steve doesn’t even want to know what kind of messages he’s getting right now and is absolutely glad his phone is somewhere on a rooftop right now. He swears he’s gonna end up blocking Dustin and Eddie again, and this time they’ll stay blocked for at least a whole day. Maybe two.

But he’ll definitely sneak in through your window later tonight, if you’ll let him, and steal a kiss of his own. The first of many, he hopes, and he can’t help the giddy smile on his face at the thought.

Yeah, Thursdays suck hard. But this one is definitely better than most.

...

tag list: @stevebabey

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #spidey!steve

[morsartis]

Miscommunication

Gamzee x Standoffish!Reader

.

Life wasn’t always kind, it didn't wait for people to catch their breaths, it didn't let you get used to what it threw at you, and it certainly never slowed down. Life had taught you the best thing to do was to meet it halfway and keep trudging. You had built a calloused exterior over time to deal  with it. The sort of exterior that pushed people away because you couldn’t bring yourself to accept a hand held out in your direction. There was always some clause, some string, attached and you’d be damned before you fell for it. So for all of life’s pitfalls you’d hardened yourself against the potential. It worked as long as you didn’t count all the people you never meant to rub wrong- which you rarely did. If people were meant to be in your life they'd chip away at the walls you'd been steadfast in reinforcing, though you could admit to yourself you often made it far harder for people than you meant to. A small sacrifice for protection against getting hurt again.

Or so you had told yourself.

You’d been happy to be a prickly douche to whoever so much as looked at you for too long, snapping and glaring at every little thing life threw at you, and then you'd met Gamzee. The most spaced out, laid back motherfucker you had ever seen. Nothing fazed the troll. No barbed comment, no sneered look, no potential fight. It was as if he lived in a perpetual bubble of chill and good peace. After awhile it seemed almost cruel on your end to be mean to him at all. You’d been looking for a roommate to share your apartment with- rent was getting tighter each day and you knew it was only a matter of time before a check finally bounced- and Gamzee had simply made himself right at home. 

You had wanted an Alternian roommate specifically to guarantee they’d mind their business so you could mind yours. Too bad Gamzee never got that memo. Or maybe he had and simply ignored it. Just like he’d ignored your attempts to make him leave you alone and stop letting himself into your room to “hang” or sprawling along the couch to be in your personal bubble. No matter how many times you snapped and snarled and attempted to get him to do as everyone else did and fuck off he had remained. In fact the more you tried to scare him off the more he seemed to make himself right at home. It completely baffled you at first as to why you couldn't make him leave and then slowly you had begun to accept it. 

Begrudgingly and with the same level of discomfort as someone having their teeth pulled. 

That seemed to be all Gamzee needed to get truly comfortable. The minute you had begun to see Gamzee as a friend and start to open up to the clown he’d dug his claws in with all the glee of a child refusing to let go of a beloved toy. He invited you everywhere with him, sometimes not even waiting for an answer. You had thought it the desperate actions of a quadrantless troll- until he finally introduced you to his “palest of diamonds”. Karkat was like looking in a fucked up funhouse mirror. The two of you snapping at each other and pushing away in all the similar ways. It was no wonder Gamzee had seemed so comfortable with you. He had a type! And apparently you fit the bill. It had taken much longer for you and Karkat to get acquainted than it had with Gamzee but when you did it was clear the clown had used the same tactics he was using on you now to get Karkat as his moirail. 

A complete and utter disregard for your stubborn and standoffish nature. 

Though according to Karkat your long term roommate had a dark side, one you hadn’t seen and was hard to believe, but sometimes you thought you caught glimpses of it when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Calculating lucidity that would flicker in his otherwise stoned and glazed over eyes. It was easy to dismiss. 

But today you were reconsidering that dismissal. 

It had started out all the same. You’d had the day off work and had taken to lounging on the couch with your phone using the TV as background noise. Whatever conversation you had started out having with one of your few friends had devolved into archaic memes and had long abandoned coherence a good fifteen minutes or so ago. Gamzee would be home soon, you had memorized his schedule out of necessity from the times he’d wandered into the bathroom to grab some of his things while you had been showering. The mortification had been brutal and your landlord had banned changing the locks in the apartment for reasons lost to you. So the bathroom lock remained broken and you had memorized Gamzee’s schedule as a consequence. Since then there had been no mortifying bathroom mishaps. Not that Gamzee had seemed bothered at any point, he hadn’t been creepy about it either, just grabbing his things as if you weren’t there at all. You weren’t sure whether to be grateful or concerned but had settled uneasily on grateful. Today was no different than any other when he got back. Humming and chuckling to himself as he shed off his jacket and left it on the floor when he came in- another losing battle with him- before wandering into the kitchen without a care in the world. It was as if he hadn’t even realized you were home as he rooted around in the fridge for what you assumed was faygo. The two of you would have to go grocery shopping sometime soon, food and drinks were getting low again. You could hear him shut the fridge with his hip and the soft hiss of carbonation as he unscrewed the lid on his soda and wandered into the living room where you were still curled up on the couch. For a moment neither of you said anything and then you could feel as his eyes slid to and over you. Again that rare lucid clarity came to his eyes in a brief flash before it was replaced by the ever present glaze as he smiled wide to see you. 

“Hey buddy! You all up and got the day off?”

“Yeah. Figured I’d just relax.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” He was still smiling that crooked smile as he hooked one long leg over the top of the couch and began climbing over it. You watched mildly unbothered by whatever strange fancy had struck him now as you continued sharing memes on your phone with your friend. Unfortunately that was all the acceptance Gamzee needed to plop onto the couch and then flop directly on top of you.

“Gamzee what are you doing?” You asked calmly. Maybe a little bit tiredly knowing from the start that it was a losing battle. 

“I’m just gettin’ my cuddle on.” He replied cheerful as ever. One arm snaked underneath your back to wrap around you as he began slowly inching his way up your body to rest his head on your chest. He’d had the fortunate thought to tilt his head so you wouldn’t be gored by his long goat-like horns. But it didn’t stop him from snuggling himself closer. Sighing heavily you set your phone aside and wrapped an arm around his neck. 

“Didn’t we have a talk about this yesterday?”

“I dunno. Did we? I just wanna get my motherfuckin’ cuddles on. Feelin’ all sorts a clingy lately.” 

“What do you mean?” You asked curiously but Gamzee’s mind was clearly already drifting away as he snuggled into your hold. One of his hands dangled off the couch with the bottle of faygo and you hoped he wouldn’t drop it. It took forever to clean up and you’d just cleaned the rug not even three days ago. For a while the two of you just laid there, Gamzee’s ear twitching as he listened to your heartbeat. His clawed fingertips on the arm wrapped around you tapped what you figured must be the beat of your heart on your side. You were half asleep underneath him, the chilled weight of his body helping calm you, when he finally shifted. You glanced down at him and found his chin resting on your chest as he looked up at you. Again that lucidity had returned to his eyes as he watched you. 

And then the unthinkable happened. The thing that turned your thoughts on the clown upside down. 

He slid in closer and before you realized what he was doing he had pressed his lips to yours. The first thing you registered was that they were cold, the second thing had been the slick slide of the greasepaint he wore as his mouth moved against yours, and the third was the way he was still staring at you. His eyes were still open, still watching, as he pressed his mouth to yours insistently. Your sound of confused surprise was muffled as he shifted his head just so and his tongue licked across the meat of your bottom lip. Eyes wide and shocked you tensed and he nipped lightly at your mouth before pulling away a more smug smile on his face. 

“You taste like popsicles.” He told you voice pitched strangely. Swallowing nervously you struggled to find words to even say to him. 

“Gamzee?”

“Hm?”

“What the hell was that for?” You hated how meek you sounded but the shock had been too great. He’d never even given you an inclination he saw you as anything more than a good friend.

“A motherfucker can’t just all up and kiss his matesprit?” He asked, clearly confused. 

“Your what?” 

His eyes suddenly went as wide as yours, a startling look on his face as he seemed to struggle to keep them open most of the time. 

“Oh shit.” He breathed, “I forgot to ask you.”

#gamzee x reader #homestuck #hiveswap #friendsim #gamzee makara #request #oneshot #I AM SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER #I wish I had made it longer but if I did I would have rewritten it again #I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY #But I hope you like it regardless!

[ashleysmessyjourney]

Fall Messing Update: 16 Months

Sorry for the inactivity on this side blog of mine; I was busy getting a job and then getting laid off because of the “recession” a month after getting hired. It was a decent job but the boss liked to micromanage the hell out of me. Guess I’m back to diaper training people and writing ABDL erotica full time for a while. It sure was nice being able to save some money instead of having all of it go to rent and bills.

As for this messing challenge update, I’ve been playing a game and seeing if I can make it to the potty once I feel the need to poop. Don’t worry, I’m just seeing how long it takes me before I have no choice but to give in and let my diaper get a nice little brown present; I’m not actually using the potty for anything. More often than not, I haven’t been able to make it to the potty, though I haven’t exactly been trying my hardest. It’s just a fun little game I’ve been doing to keep things fresh. I keep doing what I’m doing as I feel a little pressure grow within my bowels and as it nears the point of no return, that’s when I stand up to “try” to make it to the bathroom. Sometimes I’ll allow myself to get distracted by chores before I go try to make it to the bathroom, only sealing my fate to mess my diaper.

Since I’ve been pushing as soon as I think I feel something back there, my body knows that as soon as it finishes making poop that it’s going out ASAP. This gives me very little time now to get to a safe spot; it’s gotten a lot harder to find a safe space to do the deed when I’m out in public. Even though I have more than two years to go before my challenge expires, I feel like I’m at a crossroad: I can keep pushing on and see where this challenge takes me and potentially resulting in conditioning myself to poop whenever and wherever without conscious thought or I can try to retain control over my bowels and see how my control is at the end of the challenge.

As time starts to blur together, I’ve found it more and more difficult to keep myself from pooping and the time it takes before I have to give up and mess myself has been getting a lot lower. I was out by myself getting some dinner last weekend when the waiter was taking too long to bring me the check. They were very busy and they were probably understaffed that night because I didn’t get checked on all that much. My tummy wasn’t feeling the best and as the minutes dragged on, it only got worse. I sipped on some water, hoping it would quell the growing storm but it did nothing to help.

It’s been significantly harder to hold #2 since I gave up my bladder control; I heard those muscles are linked together. I started praying that I wouldn’t have a genuine accident; even with my plastic panties, I didn’t want to face the embarrassment of speaking to someone in public with a loaded diaper but it felt like I was going to have that choice taken away from me by my body. I’ve been wearing plastic panties when I go out in public because having an extra layer of protection against leaks and smells is just comforting.

As the minutes dragged on, I started to get squirmy. I’m glad I went to dinner alone because as I tried my hardest to hold it in after 15+ months of going #2 in my diapers, I felt like I was slowly losing the battle. Once I felt like I had no choice but to find someone else to print my check so I could pay, I got up and walked over to the hostess stand where I had her print out my bill. After I paid, I scurried out of the place and as soon as I rounded the corner into the parking lot, I gave up the fight against my bowels and let my body push a hot load into my diaper. Giving up the fight felt much the same compared to me losing my bladder control years ago; I love that feeling of giving up control to something other than myself. I’m slowly starting to learn that there’s no point in trying to hold it anymore because it’ll always inevitably end up in my diaper. Learning to trust my diapers for something other than my little dribbles was hard yet fun.

I felt such glorious relief as the pressure disappeared; all that pain left my tummy, replaced by a warm, comforting mess in the seat of my diaper. I avoided a couple groups of people as I walked back to my car, feeling the mess spread with each step. At that point, I had a choice to make: I could sit in the mess and endure the long drive home, I could change in my car, or I could go back in and practice changing a messy diaper in public. I had no idea what the bathroom looked like in there so I was hesitant to change my messy diaper in an unfamiliar place; I made a mental note to scope it out next time so I’d know if it’s safe space to change or not. I gingerly sat down in my car and drove home. I’m glad I was able to make it back inside without running into anyone else.

I’m sure many of you are wondering about my progress with the night time messing hypnosis. I stopped using it after a while because I wasn’t making as much progress, instead choosing to switch to another messing hypnosis that’s been helping me mentally adjust to these new big changes in my life. While I haven’t been successful in waking up messy, my messing pattern has shifted a lot, especially with the recent time change. I had not expected to wake up already feeling the pressure back there; I think my body tries to hold on until I wake up because as soon as I wake up, all I want to do is get rid of that pressure in the only way I know how. It’s funny because all I wanna do is go back to sleep. Even in my half-awake state, I still have to make myself relax for my body to do what it wants to do. Sometimes all it needs is a little push and that’s all my body needs to get rid of the pressure back there. I’ve been wearing plastic panties to bed as an added layer of protection; the best part is that I don’t smell a thing as I fill up my soggy diaper.

Walking while pooping is my favorite method of pooping now and normalizes me continuing to do what I was doing without having to stop for a potty break. Messing has become so normal that I no longer feel the mental push to go to the bathroom to poop; I just start pushing once my body says that I need to poo. It was interesting to make that connection; to think that I have successfully rewrote my mind’s defaults for certain actions is exhilarating to say the least. I still have to keep myself in check when I’m in public; I think the hypnosis I’m listening to now is working to convince me that poop belongs in my diapers no matter where I am or what I’m doing.

Good thing I already trust and love my diapers!

Since I just lost my job, any help would be sincerely appreciated. Version 5 of my diaper training guide is 72 pages and 43k words long and is the best tool for training yourself to diaper dependency. You can buy it at https://www.patreon.com/ABDL_Erotica.

If you need more help training, you can join my diaper training Discord server at https://discord.gg/MMwfcSpMjy The free channels are limited, though you can unlock a lot more for $5 or $25 per month (the $25 includes my training guide and full access to the server). If you’d like my premier level of diaper training service, please consider becoming my VIP and join the dark side of diaper dependence; lightsaber not included. =P You can learn all about my program at https://www.patreon.com/DiaperTraining

You can always find me everywhere through https://my.bio/diapertrainingashley

Lastly, anything bought from my wishlist adds more time onto the timer. You can view my wishlist at https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/10MYHI152VZRT/

Here are the current stats: Challenge Start Date: July 26, 2021 Current Ending Time: February 22, 2025 Total Time: 1310 Days | 43.2 Months | 3.6 years Total Days Remaining as of Nov 16, 2022: 829 days | 27.6 months | 2.3 years

[onmyyan]

Your writing brings joy to my shriveled brain. How do you think it would go if Steven from Moonnight had a female roommate who desperately tried to ignore the weird shit. Acting like nothing was out of the ordinary bc the apartment is in the perfect spot and the rent is really reasonable. Steven and Mark grow increasingly alarmed and intrigued respectively at their cute but definitely deranged roomate ignoring all the bat shit crazy with an iron force of will. The more they pay attention the more they realize they like having her around.

A/N: My shriveled heart enjoys writing for y’all 😫🤚🏼 also this my first moonknight request I’m so excited It’s not even funny. This took me actual ages to post bec I kept rewriting it, Marc and Steven are wonderful and I'm sorry if their ooc and for how long it took me to post, hope you enjoy! NOT EDITED

TW'S: Yandere

The first thing you noticed about Steven Grant was his inexplicable ability to keep to himself. Like really to himself. The small space you two occupied never felt crowded despite sharing everything but a bed. His room was sort of the living room, and at the very beginning you two set the rule that you’d each keep to your own, a fair rule considering you got the bedroom, the cheap rent and non-creepy roommate was worth all the odd stuff you noticed. Like how he taped up the front door at night. You chalked it up to paranoia. The ring of sand he diligently poured around his bed? Your aunt had a sleepwalking problem, could happen to anyone. The kinky ankle chain he kept on the post by his bed? What he got up to when you were out of the apartment was his business, and you minded your own well, as long as you weren’t in danger, he could be as weird as he wanted.

Steven was worried initially. His mind ran ragged with scenario after scenario of you finding out about Marc, the two of them had only just begun to peacefully coexist. Marc had no problems with you as long as you had your rent and didn’t ask too many questions, plus you sometimes wore these little shorts to bed and he'd never complain about the view.

There were just some things you can't hide, like the fact that the apartment felt haunted whenever Steven was home, the cold chills and way he was constantly looking up in some random corner were a little harder to ignore, you told yourself you'd say something if you got possessed, other than that it was blissfully ignored.

Marc had never officially met you but he had been watching. He was a naturally alert person so it wasn't concerning- what worried him was just how often you wiggled your way into his thoughts as of late. He was far too grown for something like a crush, far to burdened with his destiny for something like romance, that's absolutely not why he took over to watch you for a while, nothing malicious, just observe you how steven gets to, you two only ever crossed paths in the morning and as you were heading to bed. You didn't bat a eye, offering him a sleepy wave and a yawn as you made your coffee.

He found himself smiling at the silent, practiced way you worked around the kitchen, something about the scene was domestic, "Wan' some?" You asked rather cutely, a yawn breaking through at the end, warmth pooled in his chest at the simple action and before he could stop himself he was nodding.

Your pretty (e/c) eyes widened for a moment before that friendly grin came back. "You never take me up on that- I was startin' to think British people couldn't drink coffee." The graceful ease in which you moved had his eyes soaking up every inch of you, your little joke had pulled him out of whatever weird trance he'd fallen under. "Cream and sugar?" He shook his head no, and when your fingers brushed his as you handed off the warm mug, it felt like he'd been electrified.

"You're usually at the museum by now- sorry that sounded creepy I meant- it's nice seeing you that's all." Your very apparent flustered state pulled a smirk to his lips. You were too cute. But the question did yank him out of the sweet bubble he'd found himself in once you started talking.

You thought he was Steven- of course, why wouldn't you? He knew this and yet, that familiar pang of disappointment lingered, so hard in fact he'd fallen into himself and let Steven have the wheel once more. The Brit was proper confused when he came to with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands.

He nearly dropped it when he finally noticed you standing before him, your bedhead made you look like some sort of sleepy Angel, he quickly took a sip of the liquid, failed to hide his grimace and thanked you for it before rushing out with the guise of being late to work. Truthfully his shift didn't start for an hour and a half, he just liked giving you your space.

He found out rather early the longer he spent in your presence the more likely he was to make a fool of himself. You were charming and witty and god you looked like someone who should be waited on hand and foot- not that that's something he's thought in detail about or anything don't be silly-

"I think I should introduce myself." He heard Marks voice ring out while he reorganized the plushies by the register. "Absolutely not." He said almost offended at the mere suggestion, his pulse began to skyrocket, "Are you mad? She just started being comfortable-" he laughed humorlessly, "That be a fine way to send her running for the bloody hills." He set the last plush down with more force than necessary, the idea of you not being in his life anymore shot a spike of panic through him.

"You're not giving her enough credit, somethin' about that one- this feels like the right move buddy." Steven glanced at Mark's reflection in one of the display cases. He pointedly moved to the other side of the store, his face twisting into a pout. "She's noticed all the weird shit we do- she's still there." He heard him try to reason, catching his grin in the glass. "You can't hide from me, I know you're just as interested in our sweet roommate as I am."

#yandere #yananswers #Yandere moonknight #yandere steven grant #yandere marc spector #yandere marvel #yandere steven grant x reader #yandere marc spector x reader #yandere konshu #yandere jake lockley

[mark-on-you]

there is a lot of heel turn 1 content on this blog and I feel like you are eager for someone to ask you what it means to you. so I will ask: what is it that you like about this song so very much? - @cryptic-symbols

Thank you so much for the ask!! I am, without a doubt, a "Beat The Champ" fan. I've been a fan of that album long before the wrestling-itis got a hold of me (and man, it's got me good). Heel Turn 2 is absolutely a stand out from the album, and while it is the more complete of the two, I love the unpolished Heel Turn 1 just as much.

As much as I do really want to talk about Heel Turn 1, I'm not exactly sure what to say about it. So, rambling will ensue.

The ushers and the guys who chuck the popcorn/They feel the rush of stillness in the air

Again, I adore the contrast of the mundane with the transcendent. Beat The Champ is mostly about guys trying to make a few bucks, to stay alive, and intersecting with greatness in the process. The change that is going to occur, the emotional shift, is so powerful that it can be felt from multiple feet away. But that doesn't negate the day to day grind, nor does such a seismic shift stop you from having to pay rent.

Starting on the periphery and then diving into the center of the ring is a really compelling aspect too. It feels like this emotional shift is a black hole, one that we can only comprehend by understanding everything it sucks into itself.

I'm not going to break it down line but line but I just love the phrasing of

I prop myself bolt upright on one hand

There's such a suddenness to the motion, but also a strength and surety. Not only is the change drastic, it's immediately both strong and sure. But also, it's only "on one hand", it's unbalanced, from one extreme to the other. So much is conveyed in so few words it rocks.

Work hard to be a hero all my life/ Always try to turn the other cheek

This line bring me back to one of my favorite goats motifs: being good and paying for it. "I am young and I am good", "try your whole life to be righteous and be good/wind up on your own floor choking on blood", etc. Tragic heroes just really do it for me idk what to tell you.

And, again to bring back the power of the mundane, all the examples of "goodness" are really basic, but in that way more "pure". It's so wholesome, the kind of thing that speaks directly to the morality of a child (but not in a bad way). It also speaks to the child's sense of justice that most people still carry with them.

Plus, it really emphasizes that good is a thing you do, not a thing you are. Which is, a very helpful phrase (that I am stealing from a 100 other ppl), when it comes to not thinking of yourself as evil. But also, when good is a thing you can do, evil becomes a thing you can do. And as such, it becomes REALLY easy to do. But once you turn that way, once you start down a path of destruction, it's going to be a lot harder to pull yourself out of it.

There's a real contrast here between the suddenness of the heel turn, and the imagined eventually face turn which means the long, ugly road of redemption.

I watch my guardian angel leave the building/ I am my only friend /One thing about the good guys that I've noticed /They always beg for mercy in the end

now that! is some just good song writing!!

I love so much about this. The idea of being past mercy, but also instead of turning your back on your better angels, they are simultaneously turning their back on you. It both gives a reason/a justifiable aspect to the turn (that goodness has turned its back on you) while also carrying intense bitterness and resentment for others. Being "right" but acting "wrong".

Further, the contrast of "only friend" to "good guys" re-enforces the idea that heels are alone while babyfaces are in amiable groups. (While this is not true, the feelings that define heel and babyface stables tend to follow a pretty basic evil/good split.)

And, of course, that final separation from the good guys. The realization that you were once of their kind, that good was once a thing you were, but is now just a thing you did. And to do evil can transform into the self perception of being evil.

The answer to this last line, the assumed ending where the main character does something vile and violent is missing from the song itself, but the song doesn't exist without that ending implication. Even if it wasn't called "heel turn 1", you'd know that the singer has come to some dark conclusion.

Anyway, these are only half-formed thoughts, because while I do love talking about my interests this blog is, at base, about me screaming incoherently.

#heel turn 1 #roddy speaks

[doodle17]

PAYING RENT SOOOOO

What does T.J's mental world look like? Also her clairvoyance of Raz? RAMBLE AWAY BROSKIII

Sorry for taking so long AAAAAAAA

I was just busy thinking about this for a bit! I'm just going to get right into it,

So, the basic idea I have so far is that the layout and level will be based on a cabin. The cabin is inhabitated by a two headed dog thing, called the hound. The hound patrols around the cabin, kind of similar to an El Odio type of deal, only he's slower. Just don't get caught- also Raz gets shrinked down to the size of a penny (okay exaggeration, but still he's tiny)

HOWEVER she does fall asleep after a certain amount of tasks are completed. She'll curl up on big a pile of emotional baggage, and you can sneak by and enter new areas, get some T.J lore drops, and then the final level which is the outdoors. A lot of it is kind of a stealth level, because even though they tend to be widely hated, I actually really like stealth missions in games!

Anyways, the outdoor area is where the final boss occurs! The Hound wakes up and has been hunting Raz the whole time he's been in the outdoor level, and before he can enter the cabin, she blocks the entrance and the fight begins!

After she's almost defeated, she manages to pin Raz down with her massive paw, monologs on how she's her full size, and there's no way she can ever go back, how she's the lead emotions and she's in charge of all feeling. Then, a new entity called the Hunter pushes Hound off of Raz, and lifts up her Axe, slicing them down the middle. The hound, is now split up into to little puppies. Hunter grabs them by the scruffs of their necks and sighs, shaking her head. The aggressive one is barking and nipping, while the sad on cries and howls.

Hunter is basically T.J in lumberjack attire LMAO. Anyways, Raz is his normal size again, and the two of them are back in the cabin. The puppies are both sleeping soundly by Hunters feet. Raz asks what she plans to do with them, to which she says: "I'll probably try my best to take better care of them, I suppose. I can't just get rid of em, y'know? They're still part of me, always have been. I'll just have to start over, that's all... That way I can control them better to avoid another mess like this."

SO the metaphor I'm trying to use here is, y'know how if people neglect and don't take care of their dogs, they get aggressive and harder to control? Well, that can be similar to emotions, so yeah :)

Its pretty basic, BUT it's similar to what I've got going on so mmmmyeah

As for her clairvoyance of Raz, I'm still thinking about it. I think she'll probably see herself as a kid, since they were both similar when she was that age.

#doodles rants #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #psychonauts oc #moots and babble

[prettyhobii]

HIRAETH CH-1

MDNI

Chapter two

Home. That's a word Song Nari never truly understood. She never had someone to call home, or somewhere that felt like home. No backup safety, no supportive family, just herself and her friends.

Barely having enough money to pay for her cigarette addiction along with drowning myself in alcohol, paying rent and don't even get started on buying food.

Sighing, Nari reaches into her draw and pulls out a half empty pack of Marlboro. Living alone now, atleast She don't have to deal with they nagging of Rosé, Jennie and Felix, her siblings telling her to stop smoking.

She lights up the cigarette, opening up the apartment window and stares out at the city below, which is still rumbling with life. People of all backgrounds out on the streets, some homeless, some partying, some running off to do a late night business meeting.

She never had a good life, even from the beginning. Her parents were constantly fighting with each other. The abuse she went through both mentally and physically was utter torture.

When she got her soulmarks on her fourteenth birthday, her father tried his best to get rid of them. Bleach and blades were used to cover up all seven marks that settled deep on her stomach. Each one distinct and unique from one another, her own mark, a small snowflake was circled by the rest, in a protective but symbolic carving of her own fate.

Her father hated the idea that he didn't have control over one final aspect in his daughters life. From that day, the beatings got periodically worse.

Two years later, Nari took her three younger siblings and ran. Stealing just enough money to settle herself in a small apartment at the mere age of sixteen, where the four of them lived for four years, in hiding from their parents.

That never changed, although miles and miles away from their family home, they could never truly stop hiding. Nari knew they were being hunted, and as the oldest and knew that she needed to protect them, and so she did.

She worked for them, giving them money every week, even though they seemed to be doing better then she was financially, Nari still gave them money every week without fail, just to be sure that they would be safe and healthy.

But now time was going on, and with each and everyday it got harder to keep up with rent, harder to pay the bills, harder to get food, harder to keep on going.

Nari began to struggle once again. Like years ago, she was drowning in her own mental health, feeling no escape, turning back into the bad habits she once swore to quit.

Cigarettes and booze became a daily thing, while cutting down on food to save herself some money got herself in trouble with not only her siblings, but the landlord aswell.

Two years ago Nari got a job with Min Ko, an secret strip club. For legal reasons, it definitely was not a strip club. But it was definitely a strip club.

Although she didn't strip herself, so to say. Most of her closest friends there did. She worked the bar, serving drinks, wearing the shortest and tightest clothes, basically selling herself for tips.

Occasionally you'd get the men and women in their early twenties wasting the occasional won, then you'd have rich Middle Ages men throwing thousands at them, for doing basically nothing. Not that they'd complain. Most of the men and women there needed the cash. Especially Nari.

"Are you okay?" Nari asked one of the newly employed girls, who she earlier learnt only just turned 18. She noddles slowly, although clearly her body said the opposite.

"Just because it's your job, doesn't mean you can't say no." Nari comforted, placing a reassuring hand on the girls back.

"I just felt so dirty Nari, the way he touched me. He didn't even ask first."

"Sit down, let me get you some water." Nari said, gesturing over to one of the staff couches, in the staffs sit down area. "Men are pigs. They all crave sex. But it's up to you to stick up for yourself and say no. If they don't stop, you kick them right in their balls, and tell them to fuck off."

The younger girl laughed, collecting the water that Nari just fixed up for her.

"It's hard when there is lots of them all at once."

Nari sighed, fixing herself a glass of water at the same time, "Lisa, you're a beautiful girl. Some day you won't need to be here anymore. You'll meet your soulmate, and money won't be a worry." She combed back a lose piece of the girls hair, tucking it behind her ear. "What do you want to do in the future?" Nari asked softly, "because I don't think you want to do this for the rest of your life."

Lisa smiled, looking down at her hands which cupped the glass of water, she took a sip quickly, "I want to be a singer." She sighed," I know that sounds a bit far fetched, but I auditioned last year, but I was too young, so they told me to try again this year," she smiled a little, "I'm only working here to survive. Living is so expensive, I need to buy food, clothes, travel expenses, you know." Her smile quickly disappeared, "it's hard."

Nari nodded, agreeing with what she just said. "How much is your rent?"

"400 a month, but I can afford it," she looked off to the side. Clearly a lie.

Nari sighed, turning to grab her bag from the hook behind her, which was full of the money she earned for the night. She gathered up 400 which she was going to use to pay her own rent, but instead put it in Lisa's hands.

"I can't take this. T-this is your money!" Lisa's eyes widened as she pushed the money back into Nari's hands.

"Take it. Or it's just going to go on the floor."

Lisa sighed, "thankyou so much."

"Go home, get some rest. You need it. I'll have a talk with Soomin, and let him know the situation."

Lisa nodded, bowing politely before grabbing her belongings and leaving the building.

"You keep sending my staff home Nari."

The stern voice caught the girl off guard, she quickly turned to see her boss, Soomin. A cruel, but genius man standing by the door frame.

"She needed to go home. Besides she's not even legal age." Nari states, giving off a 'I don't give a fuck' vibe, except she was terrified of not only losing her job, but her dignity to the man behind her. He would do it. He had no guilt. He slaved these women into sexual favors for a "promotion" and had no hard time firing them after he finished using them.

"You know, pretty soon I'm going to run out of whores, and eventually you're going to have to take their place."

He slowly made his way behind Nari, pushing into her behind as he grabbed her by the hips. Nari quickly turned around pushing him off of her. "I am not a toy. And neither are those girls. You treat us with respect." She spat with narrowed eyes. "Don't fucking touch me again."

Just as she began to storm off to get back to work, she stopped in her tracks when he continued on berating her.

"You know your little sisters aren't that bad looking, the club could use whores like them." He chuckled, "I know they need the money." He grinned at Nari, who wasn't facing him. "You wouldn't want that now would you?"

Nari's temper got worse by the second, the more he kept talking the more hate she felt for him. "What do you want."

"In the past four months you have gotten seven of my girls to quit. You need to take over their job. Times it by seven, and we'll be equal."

Nari turned silent. "I'll work extra shifts."

"That's not what I mean," Soomin said, his mouth forming a straight and intimidating frown. "From now on you will strip for our clients. For the same amount you're on now."

"Fuck off," Nari scowled, "I have dignity, unlike those poor girls yoy blackmailed into doing this shit. I could get you in prison, you know."

"And I could get your family killed. What's your point?"

"Stop bringing up my fucking family."

Soomin smiled, "go into the back, change into the outfit Lisa left, and get your ass on the stage."

!NOT PROOF READ! MAY UPDATE AND CHANGE THINGS!

#bts x reader #bts soulmate au #bts fic

[bitchlessdino]

Guilty Pleasure Pt. 3

Pairing: Jihoon x f!reader x Mingyu

Genre: angst, suggestive content

Word count: 2.8k

Tags: situationship!mingyu, roommate au, mentions of insecurities, angst, pining (mutual and one sided), suggestive language and content

Summary: You know what’s shittier than liking someone taken? Liking someone taken by your best friend.

author note: hehe

Chapter list

Jihoon was freaking the fuck out. He had gotten used to you being around, he had to, but your behavior around him was peculiar. It was like something in you…shifted. You would not only stay over like you usually did, but you’d also stay past Mingyu’s time to leave for work. It was as if you were staking your claim at their residence.

In his eyes, you were a bit more free-willed than most people he encountered, at least you made it that way. And not many people at this point would continue to have sex with someone knowing their roommate would be around, at least not as often as you two did, but the circumstances have surpassed sex at this point. You were around as much as Mingyu was, if not more, making Jihoon wonder if you ever had your own place, to begin with. You essentially became another roommate.

Then there’s this tension he’s feeling when he’s around you. Your gazes fall on him a little longer than they should’ve. You’re wearing less and less articles of clothing around him, leaving almost none to the imagination at times. It felt like more clothes were on the floor than on your body, even remembering a pair of underwear left behind on the couch. You didn't change how you talked though, but it felt that’s what made it harder for Jihoon to confront you about these things. That and the never-ending guilt of being madly infatuated with you.

“Hi, Jihoon!”

You greet him from the couch in familiar article clothing that made his eyes shoot up. “You’re here…In my shirt?”

You styled the same shirt you borrowed about a week ago when that waiter spilled all those soft drinks on you. There was no way he could forget it. It was also the same shirt used to…pleasure himself the same night. Jihoon built up a cool sweat remembering the stains of sweat and cum he’s left on that thing. He takes a harsh swallow.

He really should’ve thrown that away by now.

“Yeah. It’s just so much comfier than Mingyu’s. I feel like I’m drowning in his clothes. I hope you don’t mind,” tossing a piece of popcorn in your mouth, lifting the top hem of it for a sniff, “It smells clean so.”

He coughs into his fit, somewhat almost choking on his own drool. “No. No. Go nuts. It’s just, you might as well pay rent. You’re here all the time now. 

You straighten up your back, worried if you’ve become a nuisance by overstaying your welcome. “Oh sorry–”

“That’s not what I meant. Just, it’s cool. Where’s Mingyu?”

“He’s, uh, busy. Not sure with what, just busy enough to rush out of the door.”

“So just us?”

You nod with a grin. “Yeah, for a while anyway.”

That wasn’t good. Sure, you’ve been left at the house alone, sure, all three have been in the house, but the only other times you and Jihoon were ever alone together were the moments he planned on leaving. Now he’s home with no option to leave, especially when he’s made it apparent he has nowhere to be. It’d be weird if he isolates himself in his room, wouldn’t it?

“Join me,” You offer, patting the empty space next to you, “You can pick what we watch.”

He’d be a fool not to take up that offer, or he's the biggest fool in the world for agreeing to it. Either way, here he was sitting side by side with you on the couch, the micro hairs of his arms standing tall. His heart was probably pounding a thousand miles a minute. His sanity was holding on by a single thread just knowing there’s a short distance between your knee and his. He felt like a blushing teenager all over again.

He’d sneak gazes at you from the corner of his eye. You would mindlessly eat your popcorn and eyes glued on the first Ironman movie, almost as if you forgot he was there. He couldn’t move a muscle even if he wanted to, he felt frozen.

You laughed at the funny scenes, made comments about Tony Stark's questionable character, and lightly shoved Jihoon to point out interesting moments on the screen. He would enjoy the movie if you weren’t all he could focus on. Eventually, there was a point that night he’d calm down. You were dozinb off at this point, your guard falling as your head swung back and forth in the air. Your eyes are already entirely shut, and your body’s gravity naturally settles on Jihoon’s shoulder, causing his peace to be cut short.

Your face so close taunts him, breathing out of your nose down his chest, ticking his skin. He attempts to push you away, nudges you by the shoulder, and even attempts to move you by hand. He takes the side of your head, deciding to bring it up against the couch but instead, he finds himself staring at your sleeping figure.

From the delicate layering of your lashes against your soft cheeks, to the peaceful heaving of your chest as they took paced breaths. You looked delicate, beautiful, ethereal. He parts your hair away from your forehead, fingers brushing over your soft skin, and he feels breathless under your wordless spell.

He shifts his legs slightly to regain some sanity but doesn’t let you go. He could feel what most people knew as butterflies, the sounds of the TV drowning out in the background as Jihoon is lost in the heat of his own movie. He feels greedy, and the tingling sensation of his hands against your face sends him the itch to hold you closer. He pushes more hair out of the way for your comfort, so he tells himself, tucking them away behind your ears until your eyes begin to flutter open and stare back at him, his finger frozen behind the back of your ear. 

Your vision was still disorienting from your slumber, unsure of what you were seeing. The man you couldn’t help but think about for weeks on end staring back at you with an innocent, but startled, look in his eyes, as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t. There is this moment of silence you have. It was long enough to notice the longing in his expression and how it matched yours. Although no words were spoken, it was all seen in his eyes, his breath, and his presence.

You were dreaming again, you thought. This image just happened to be a lot more vivid than others. Like any dream, you reach up to him, hand cupping his warm cheek, fascinated at how realistic it was this time around, and notice his gaze soften. You admire the smooth sensation of his skin before capturing him in a liplock. His were as soft and plush as always, but unlike your visions, he was warm. 

His arms loop around your body in an embrace, finding your waist naturally and pressing up to the heat of your body. His lust takes control of him and kisses you like he feels he’s meant to, stroking your sides and memorizing your body with his fingertips. Love in every touch.

It was then you figure out it wasn’t a dream at all and your eyes shot open. You froze under his grasp and now you weren’t the only one to realize the reality as Jihoon is the one to push you away. A stern expression takes over him as he dumps you aside and stands up from the couch. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he leaves you with a few last words. “I’ll pretend that never happened and so should you.”

But you wouldn’t. How would that even be possible?

Jihoon traps himself in his room for the rest of the night and avoids you entirely after that incident. He doesn’t answer your texts, makes sure his work gives very little opportunities that you’d be alone together, and he would leave as soon as you’re in his sight.

You look up at the ceiling of Mingyu’s bedroom in contemplation, surrounded by the heat of his half-naked body.

“What are you thinking about?” He mumbles with closed eyes, taking over the structure of your hand and clasping it with his.

What else could you have been thinking about?

“Not much.” you breathe out.

“Okay…Ready for another round?” His tone perks up.

You softly scoff, a smile curling up on your face. “Aren’t you tired?”

He shrugs, running a hand through his messy hair, “I think you could wake me up.”

He crawls on top of you, peppering kisses around your neck and grinding against your body. You throw your arms around his neck, trying to get into it, but ultimately you feel your body involuntarily reject him. “Gyu, sorry. I’m just a little…out of it.”

“Anything…I can…do to help?” He speaks between his kisses.

You blink back up at the ceiling as Mingyu settles on your neck, “I was thinking over some things.”

“Am I one of those things?”

You shut your eyes, the pang in your heart hurting more than it should’ve and you push the bigger man off of you. “I-I don’t know. I’m just…I think I’m gonna call it for a night. I’m sorry.”

You pick up after yourself, collecting clothes to put back on your body as Mingyu sits up distraught, concern written all over his face as he tries to calm you down and hopefully prevent you from leaving. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong? What’s happening? If I did anything—“

“No,” you sigh, “I’m just having some…strong feelings right now and you don’t deserve that. Not with what we have.”

“Hey, I’m more than a hot piece of meat. I’m your friend. Come on,” he extends a hand, “tell me what’s wrong. We can fix it.”

“I don't know if it’s something I can just fix.” You slump down in his bed, knees to chest and face to hands, “I feel like I screwed up Mingyu and I don't know if you're the right person for this.”

Mingyu sighs, sounding discontent. He grew rather fond of you in the past few months, looking past the body, face, and pure allure you just emit and seeing the human behind it. You become this insecure, unsure person that gets indecisive or self-deprecating and whenever you think you make a mistake, you put yourself down. He wanted to uplift you, reassure you, and just be with you. He was enjoying your codependency and vulnerability; it gave him a sense of fulfillment. Whatever he was feeling for you, he just wanted you to be happy and to see you so stressed for a reason he didn’t know, he knew he would scour the earth to fight whatever it was in your way.

“We’ll never know unless we talk it out,” He strokes the side of your head with kind, doting eyes. 

How could you even explain this to him if you wanted to? Would it have made you a bad person to say you were thinking about someone else while you were with him, specifically someone he knew? His best friend and roommate at that?

“Fuck it.” You hop back in bed, take off your shirt, throw yourself on Mingyu once again, and evade your internal conflicts. Mingyu gladly obliges, reciprocating your kiss with equal amounts of vigor, but questions you in your urgency, aware of undisclosed issues he knew you still had. “But…the talk?”

“I just need to forget. Take your dick out for me, baby.”

You shouldn’t have done that. You should’ve been honest. However, Mingyu’s cock was some damn good sense of relief. Mingyu gave you some mental space, generously patient with you coming out to him with the truth. Although he gave you plenty of opportunities to for you talk out these issues with him, you always found some way down his pants and he was only a simple man. So, he let you be. After some time later, everything began to make sense.

Mingyu noticed his roommate being home a lot less, and sleeping over at Vernon’s a lot more than he typically did, but that didn’t bother him initially. Jihoon is a workaholic at heart, he would be out of the place a lot, but Jihoon made himself seem avoidant. It was like he had something to hide, which seemed likely. Jihoon was a pretty private guy, for the most part, but Mingyu didn’t doubt whatever truth his roommate had to hide would’ve been anything but harmless.

The picture all came together when he noticed the apartment door cracked open haphazardly. Distraught voices, yours in particular, on the other side discussing something that would make him think twice about what he thought he knew about the people he cares about.

“Jihoon, you can’t ignore me forever.”

“I’ve been doing pretty well so far.” 

The distress was evident in your tone, urging Mingyu to press an ear to the door as they do in those romantic comedies during an intense scene between the main protagonist. In this case, it was you and what he could assume to be Jihoon, and then there was himself, the nosy supporting cast. 

“You said you were going to forget it happened. Well, guess what. It happened and you’re acting weird about it.” A clap to thighs resonated, obviously from you that done it in frustration.

“I’m not…where’s Mingyu anyway?”

You sigh, noticing the immediate abrupt change in topic. “He’s picking something up from the pharmacy down the street. I stayed back.”

“…why are you doing this to me, y/n?”

Mingyu had to see the situation unfold. In a squatting position and space only enough for one of his eyes to get a view, he leers through the tiniest crack the door mustered. He was lucky enough to get both you and Jihoon in his only direct line of view. He lays a hand against a wall to ground himself steady, noticing your physical states on opposite ends of the spectrum. Your body language was open and directly gave attention to the person you were talking to, while Jihoon was evidently more closed off.

“I just want to talk to you again. Like we used to.”

“We can’t do that,” Jihoon emphasizes, he glares with his voice almost hissing back at you.

You furrow your brows back at him, taking a step closer to him. “Why not?”

“We…I can’t.” Jihoon’s figure slumps down, his voice faltering in the softest, faintest tone.

You soften your gaze, getting closer and closer to him, “If it’s about the kiss…I think about it every day, Jihoon.”

Mingyu’s eyes shot up at this, trembling from behind the door as he sees you approach Jihoon with longing in your eyes. Mingyu didn’t even think you could make a face like that. Was that what it looked like? What were the expressions you gave to Mingyu?

“Y/n. Stop,” Jihoon manages to gasp out, clenching his teeth in utter frustration. “Just stop.”

You reach out to grasp the fabric of Jihoon’s hood, “I can’t. I like…I like you.”

“Y/n—“

Mingyu sees through the crack of the door you brushing your lips against his roommate, languidly moving into the kiss before Jihoon completely succumbs. He sees the other man pull you by the waist, kissing you like he’s done it, or imagine himself done it, a million times. His hand smooths over the hair on the back of your head, returning your kiss tenderly. Your body reels in Jihoon’s embrace, savoring this moment in its entirety. 

Mingyu felt heated, grips the door in a hot sweat.

“Oh! The door is open!”

Both figures on the other end repel each other swiftly, pushing each other to opposite ends of the room. You retreat to the farthest part of the kitchen and Jihoon stood in the middle of the living room. Mingyu pushes the door open and refrains himself from any strong apparent emotions, utterly failing.

“Hey, Hyung!” He greets his roommate briefly before dropping his pharmacy purchase by the front door and making his way toward you. He picks you up from the ground and pulls you in for a deep, passionate liplock, tongue invading your mouth, urgently trying to fill the absence of Jihoon’s presence with his. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mingyu gasps as he parts.

“Mingyu.” You exasperate, eyes wide with warm cheeks, Mingyu unsure if it was because of Jihoon, Mingyu, or the possibility you were caught in the middle of your midday rendezvous.

“Yeah, I’m gonna get going. See you guys later.” Jihoon makes his escape, grabbing his bag, and closing the door he disappears behind, a bitter taste left on his tongue: a sense of reality.

MIngyu doesn’t tear away from your gaze even when Jihoon departs, hands slipping past your waist and down the flesh of your ass, feeling you flinch under his touch. “I don’t know if I can wait until the movie. Let’s fuck right here in the kitchen.”

“Mingyu,” You halt him, pushing his hands off your body and staring back at his hungry daze with a pitiful expression. Mingyu expression’s drops gradually, hurt by your reluctance, but doesn’t let you go, and instead grips you by your wrists. His throat goes dry seeing your face wash over with guilt.

“I think we need to talk.”

#mingyu smut #jihoon smut #woozi smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #lee jihoon smut #Kim Mingyu #woozi #mingyu #seventeen mingyu #seventeen jihoon #seventeen woozi #seventeen fanfic #woozi fanfic #mingyu fanfic #seventeen angst #woozi angst #Mingyu angst

[obamousse]

Hoshiumi had had it rough.

His first childhood home was in a small, cramped rented apartment with only his mother and younger sister, and so much stuff it fills up the house from the door to the rooms. His mother wakes up early, and arrives home late - from working two jobs to make ends meet. That left him to take care of the home, the chores, and his younger sister. He learnt to grow up fast, be responsible, be resourceful and independent.

He cooked and ate with his younger sister, leaving his mom's portion of the meal on the table, covering it with food covers. However, that doesn't mean there weren't times his mother arrived at home to have dinner with Hoshiumi - when Hoshiumi was late after volleyball practice, and his mom's boss allowed her to leave early. Sometimes, she would cook dinner for both of them and make them bento boxes for tomorrow's lunch. But the last time they had a dinner together was too few now - those days could be counted on Hoshiumi's thin fingers.

His mother sometimes felt guilty over not spending more time with her children, but Hoshiumi understands. She was a kind, caring woman who would sacrifice everything for her children, and are working hard to pay for their expenses.

His fiery personality, huge gall, lack of money and social status, and his strange hair attracted attention from bullies. And he repelled them with his fiery personality and huge gall too. He was small, yet he knew how to fight, how to stand up to others, how to punch and kick. He had, many times, been involved in fights at school and was brought to the principal and his mother's attention. She had always scolded him, but that did not deter Hoshiumi at all, since he knew he was only standing up for what he thought was right.

Obviously, he also protected his younger sister and her friends. They looked up to him, oftentimes visit his home and taste his food. Apart from his personality at school, he was soft to them. He was the chill, cool brother they wished they had.

He saved his allowances, and were careful with money. He resorted to buy for his sister over his own, and he knew to treasure and take care of his possessions, especially if they were new.

He was interested in volleyball. He had signed up at his local volleyball club, but they paid no attention to him due to his short height. He could not let the injustice go unsolved, but could not do anything about it either.

He was punctual, methodical which surprised everyone. He arrived soonest to practice and left the latest, always doing his best, working like an unstoppable, vigorous maniac. He advanced, due to his flexibility, fast reflexes, and raw talent. The looks on his coaches' faces, on his teammates' faces that had always looked down on him with scorn, was something Hoshiumi could never forget. The first spike that broke through tall blocks, that proved even small people could fight, and win up in the sky. Hoshiumi realized he had a chip on his shoulder, a mission: to prove wrong anyone who dared look down on him, to show how powerful or capable he could be in his passion. He had been seen as weird-looking, poor, angry and unlikeable loner kid who had been constantly looked down upon and laughed at. This time, he was determined to let others know who he was and what he was capable of. Firstly, through volleyball.

Since then, he had been constantly proving himself. Others disliked his anger, but it was what pulled him up whenever he felt discouraged. He worked harder, at school and volleyball, fixing his impulsive behavior toward teammates and while playing volleyball, jumped higher, ran faster, spiked and blocked with more skill, dexterity, and power until he reached perfection. Now, everyone saw him as something more - older people as the determined kids in poverty working hard to achieve at life, younger people feared him and respected him, his teachers saw him as an unstoppable force of pure willpower and tenacity. Some still hated him though, from him being an unlikeable, unnecessarily angry kid who had crossed path and fought with others now was praised for being a high-achiever perfect kid in a poor family.

It was so much more effort than someone who was tall, and accepted in the volleyball court - but it was worth it. Life isn't fair, and being short was one of the obstacles he had to overcome. But he will overcome it, or has to, to become a professional player. And he wanted to be a professional player, wanted to expand his range beyond his little town and show the world what he had to offer. However, he was pretty much the unknown boy in a small town in the volleyball world, and the hope for nationals only in a tiny place in the south of Nagano.

Kamomedai answered his prayers. They saw something in his abilities and scouted him using a sports scholarship. His mother and younger sister could not move because of financial problems - so he had to live in the school dorm and pay for food and accommodations with his mom's money.

Arrangements were made, and he would be admitted as a first year, although he had to go to school later than his friends.

The first thing he did when he moved was to find a part-time job and a place for rent, since he could not afford dorm. He could not afford to spend his mother's money on the non-necessities, and rather paid for them himself.

Rumors already circulated within the school walls, about an unknown boy who moved from the south, won a hard-to-earn scholarship paying his whole school fee, was a beast in playing volleyball and even went to Nationals.

Hoshiumi did not have experiences with rumors or how to detect them and acquire information. His old school was tight-knit, everybody knew everybody, and rumors penetrated through the school walls, but he didn't bother to pick it up. Now, he was only concerned with keeping his grades high enough.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #hoshiumi kourai #mini fanfic #part 1 #geez I kinda turned him into some next-door high achiever perfect kid #but I know he has to fight a lot to prove himself #he's always been a fighter #angry boy #I guess there's my analysis of him in here too

[thiswasinevitableid]

The Ballad of Bigfoot (Sternclay)

The runner up of the location poll was : A Quaint Bed and Breakfast in the Woods. It's NSFW. I asked tumblr followers to pick a follow-up setting, and they chose the universe from my Lonesome Moth western AU

The morning after losing his left eye, Joseph thinks about quitting. 

Seven years later, he finally pulls the trigger and resigns from his post as a U.S Marshall. 

A day after that, he’s on a train headed Northeast towards Wyoming, carrying an advertisement from one Mr. Capra saying the small town of West Yellowstone is in need of a sheriff. When he’d wired two days ago, someone had confirmed that the position was still open. Too remote and strange for many people’s liking, apparently. 

Forty-four’s no age to start again. But it’s this or grow more miserable with each passing year. 

The line ends at his destination, the town clustered among the hills and laid out along the roads as if placed there by someone playing with a model train set. 

City hall is not much bigger than the surrounding buildings, though it sports some stunning wood carvings on either side of the front entrance. 

The interview is perfunctory, Mr.Capra and the mayor, a blonde woman going by Mrs. Little mainly trying to be sure he’s who he claims to be and that he understands just how isolated the town becomes once fall fades to winter. 

When he’s signed the papers saying he’s now the sheriff, Mr. Capra asks if he needs to send for his possessions, as the city can arrange to pay for their delivery to town. 

“No, thank you. Everything I own I brought with me. But could you direct me to somewhere I could rent room while I look for a more permanent home?”

They both give him names of places to try, along with a warning that since it’s late summer, there are still lots of visitors to Yellowstone, making rooms harder to come by. 

Unlucky for him, this is not an exaggeration. He hunts through town for the entire afternoon and can’t turn up even a cot to sleep on. As he’s in Amnesty Lodge, the oldest building in town by far, explaining his plight to the young man behind the counter, he’s already resigning himself to sleeping in a barn for the night. 

“You could try the Willow Creek Bed and Breakfast. It’s just up the road into the woods there” he points out the window, “he only has a room or two at a time, but most folks don’t know to look there, so he might have space.”

Joseph thanks him, trudges with his trunk up the road as dusk blankets the sky. The bed and breakfast is a three-story house with lamps shining from clean windows, making the whole clearing seem homey. When he knocks on the door, he’s expecting an old man to answer, the kind who likes to have someone to tell stories to at breakfast. 

What he gets is a fucking Adonis. Broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a handsome face Joseph has to look up to see make for a dizzying combination

“Evening” Full lips smile from a coppery beard, “you looking for a room?”

“At this point I’d happily take a floor.”

“Won’t need to. Room across from mine is open. You staying for a little while or a long one?”

“I’m not sure. I found out today that I’m moving to town.”

“Let’s call it two bucks a week.”

“Done” Joseph holds out his hand, “I’m Joseph Stern.”

“Barclay” good god his hands are big, “kinda honored to have the new sheriff living in my place.”

Joseph doesn’t even ask how he knows; news travels like lighting in a place like this. As he follows his host inside, a different question floats into his mind, 

“Have we met before?”

“Might have. I was a doctor for a time, down in silver country. Patched up plenty of people on both sides of the law.” He gestures to a door on their right, “kitchen and dining room are through there; hot breakfast is at 7:30, but I leave out a few things to munch on if you sleep late. Here’s your room, washroom is attached and there’s extra bedding in the closet” Barclay wipes his neck with a kitchen rag, “know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it gets cold here come winter. Cold and boring, if you ask most people.”

Joseph glances at the bed, big enough for two, and wonders if in another life he could have shared it with someone, “I could use a little boredom I think.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph rises at six, shaves his face and combs his hair to the sound of unfamiliar birds and the rustle of leaves. He pulls on his eyepatch and walks a slow circle of his room, something he was too busy unpacking to do last night. The walls are painted a gentle yellow, the linens–and more surprisingly, the furnishings–are all a pale blue of early spring skies. Venturing into the living room, he finds the rest of the house in a similar state, cozy and well kept. 

Unless there’s a Mrs. Barclay hiding somewhere, his host has the makings of an excellent homemaker. 

Frame art hangs on each wall, some sketches in color and others in black and white, all done by the same artist. He pauses at one, Hercules with the hydra, and wonders why the hero looks so familiar. 

“Morning.” Barclay wipes one hand on a checkered apron while the other holds a wooden spoon, “breakfast will be ready soon. It’s just us today, so it doesn’t take as long.”

“It smells amazing.” He follows him into the dining room, “did you draw all these?”

“Nope. Friend of mine did. Coffee?”

“I never heard a better idea.”

Breakfast includes the fluffiest biscuits he’s ever eaten and blackberry jam sweet as a first kiss. Barclay tells him a little about the town, mentions that he might be gone some nights to help tend bar at Amnesty Lodge as a favor to Mama, the owner, and that Joseph is always welcome to stop by for some after-work relaxation. 

After his first day as sheriff, Joseph is sure relaxation is the last thing he needs. Nothing required his attention. Nothing needs it the day after, or even a week later, and he’s wondering why Mr. Capra went out of his way to mention that the job could still be dangerous. The most he’s had to do is help retrieve some horses that spooked and jumped the fence. 

His excitement comes exclusively from his lodgings, where Barclay’s practiced hospitality is gradually giving way to genuine friendliness. Tonight, he and Joseph have ridden into the park proper so Barclay can show him some of his favorite spots. 

The land around them is all sheer drops and sulfur bubbling from the earth, wolves howling in the distance and owls calling from the trees. Joseph wonders, after seeing a waterfall plummet a hundred feet, if this place was set aside purely to remind people that nature can and will kill you.

“Here we go” Barclay ties his horse to a tree, waits for Joseph to do the same before leading him over to a pool. The water is morning-glory blue, deep and so clear they can see all the way to the bottom. 

“It’s gorgeous.”

“Right? Just don’t try to take a dip; it’ll burn you and bad. You need to soak somewhere, the springs behind the Lodge are where to go.”

“I thought that was guests only.”

“I’ll sneak you in sometime.” Barclay winks at him, then turns his face up to the darkening sky and sniffs the air, “it’ll rain soon.”

“Glad I have such good accommodations to protect me…from…Barclay are there bullet marks on that rock?” He points to a stone on their right.

“Yeah. Nasty business; few years ago some boys passing through got upset with one of the park rangers for telling them not to hassle the folks who still live in the park proper, seeing as it was their home first. They didn’t take to kindly to the correcting and, uh, dragged him out here and tried to throw him in that pool. Luckily, his husband caught up with them. Uh. Lucky for him I guess. The two who survived rode outta town like the devil was after them.”

“So that’s the kind of incident Mr. Capra was referring to.”

“Guess so” Barclay unties his horse, “I mean, it is really quiet here most of the time. Once a year maybe something big happens, and we still get troublemakers coming through town.” As Joseph hops onto Nessies back he adds, “and sometimes…sometimes things get strange. Shapes in the woods don’t look quite right, whatever kills a cow seems to have carried it straight into the air, stuff like that.”

“Really?” Joseph grips his reins and hides his excitement.

“That’s what I hear. Doesn’t sound like it bothers you.” Barclay smirks. 

“No, I have to admit it doesn’t. The more I traveled as a marshall, the more I was positive I was seeing things we didn’t have explanations for. Monsters in the lakes, ape men in the mountains, all kinds of things that most people dismiss as campfire stories. But there was so much evidence sometimes, and I wanted to investigate and I never could.  Just one more reason I decided I was done with that job.” His voice bounces of the rocks and so he clears his throat and says, “what made you change from being a doctor.”

“Lots of things. Climate where I was got a little too hostile to some folks for my taste, and at the end of the day I prefer cooking to blood and guts. Cooked the Lodge for a long time before we bought Willow Creek and Mama suggested I make the place my own. It suits me.” He smiles, “Guess I like looking after people. Always have.”

A big heart and a beautiful smile. If Joseph gets out of his time at the B&B without falling like a tree in a storm, it’ll be a miracle.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks into his new job, Joseph locks the sheriff's office and turns to cross the street. There, on the opposite corner, is a man in conversation with Aubrey, the mayor’s wife. A man with silver hair and red glasses perched on an angular face. 

He’d know it anywhere. 

When he gets to Willow Creek, Barclay is scanning the paper in his easy chair, reading glasses on his nose. 

“Barclay, I don’t want to worry you, but are you aware the outlaw Indrid Cold is in town?”

Barclay chuckles and turns the page, “People make that mistake now and then. Indrid Cold the outlaw died in a gunfight, years ago. That Indrid Cold is an artist; did all the stuff on the walls.”

“Did he…” Joseph muses, crossing to the illustration of Hercules. He has seen that face before. 

“I remember now, We have met. You were with Duck Newton when he brought the evidence to exonerate himself and prove that Indrid Cold hadn’t murdered one of my fellow marshalls.”

Brown eyes regard him for a long, long minute. Then Barclay folds the newspaper and sets it aside, “Yeah, that was me. Mama too.” He removes his glasses, tucking them in his front pocket, “And there’s no point in trying to convince Indrid isn’t who you think he is. Quite frankly, I don’t feel like insulting your intelligence that way. He gave up that life a long, and mean long, time ago. He’s not a threat to anyone in town, and he’s my friend, so if you’ve got any bright ideas about trying to arrest him on old warrants, think again.”

“Understood.” 

Joseph is still thinking about whether he’s morally obligated to arrest the former outlaw the next evening. He’s taking the scenic route back to his room when a black-clad figure falls into step beside him. 

“Good evening, sheriff. It is nice to see you again.” Indrid Cold’s voice is looking-glass smooth. 

Fuck. Did Barclay tell him that Joseph recognized him? 

“There’s no need to be alarmed.”

“If memory serves we didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

A sharp laugh, “True. All the same, I bear you no ill will. If I held a grudge against everyone who ever arrested me, or tried to, it would be a waste of my precious time and interfere with my marriage in more ways than one.”

“I still doubt you followed me just to say hello.”

“An apt conclusion. I remember you being a man willing to admit he was wrong. So I ask that you employ that same capability to whatever conclusions you have drawn about my being here. I followed Duck here to continue building our life together. This is my home, my people, and I will never harm it. Nor allow others to. And without putting too fine a point on it, I repaid whatever debts I owed to society. Ask Barclay if you do not believe me. Do we have an understanding?” He extends his hand, every inch the gentleman save for his smile, where a glint of his old self remains. 

Joseph has nearly died on many pointless hills. He’s not interested in adding one more to the list. 

“We do.” He shakes cool fingers. 

Cold gives a slight bow of the head and turns back toward town. Then he pauses and turns back to say, “Barclay’s birthday is next Monday. He is very fond of the morning buns from the bakery.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow, bemused, but nods, “I’ll be certain to get up early that day.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------

Sylphs age slower than humans. One Sylph year is between three and seven for humans. Even with that, Barclay is now middle aged by both standards, grey shining in his beard and in the fur of his chest, depending on which form he takes. 

Funny, then, that he feels younger than he has in decades. And all because a certain sheriff is still sleeping under his roof. 

That Joseph Stern is handsome is obvious to anyone with eyes and sense. This casual observation didn’t give way to desire until he saw the human practicing his marksmanship a few days after moving to town. He lined up rows of empty tin cans on a log behind the house and then shot them down without missing his mark once. Then he reloaded, switched hands, and repeated the feat. Watching from the kitchen window, Barclay had a sudden urge to fan himself. 

Tonight, he’s feeling much the same way. 

Joseph is leaning on the bar at Amnesty Lodge, chatting with Moira. Every now and then he casts his blue eye over to Barclay, sizing him up like a bull he fully intends to ride. The longer he’s in town the more confident he becomes, which has the added benefit (or curse) of him being more flirtatious with Barclay when they have the house to themselves (if there are other guests, he’s polite as can be).

“You really ought to ask him to dinner.” Indrid looks at Barclay from behind his cards

“Yep” Duck says from the rocking chair where he’s whittling what looks to be a boat hull, “you’re clearly moonin’ over him. And he’s decent enough that he even tracked me down to apologize for setting a posse on me all those years ago. Meant it too.”

“You think he’d say yes?” Barclay raises. 

“Of course. In all futures he agrees to it. And in the majority the night ends with at least one kiss, if not more. Ah, it seems I win again.” He lays down a full house. 

“Remind me again why I play this with you?”

Moira excuses herself and Joseph raises his glass in goodnight. Now’s his chance. 

Just as Barclay reaches him, three men shove open the doors, pistols drawn. 

“Nobody move. We’re here to relieve this fine establishment of all its currency.” The leader makes straight for Barclay, who already has his hands in the air. 

“You heard me, big man,” he rests his elbows on the counter, “get to it or I’ll make some holes for the worms.”

“Of course” Barclay moves to the cash drawer. The robber tips his pistol back with a grin. Then two of his teeth scatter on the bar as Joseph grabs his wrist with one hand and decks him with the other.  Two more shots land two more pistols on the floor and two robbers bleeding from their hands. 

“Jake, please go get deputy Owens. Thank you.”

Joseph keeps his gun trained on the robbers until back-up arrives, at which point he turns to Barclay, the first flicker of worry on his face, “Are you okay?”

“Incredible. Have dinner with me? As a thank you?”

“As soon as I’m done with work, big guy.”

—-------------------------------------------

The first snow comes the week before Halloween, which strikes Joseph as unfair since the town supposedly celebrates Halloween in elaborate ways. 

There are no guests, and none coming any time soon, since the snow has closed off the roads. That means there’s nothing for him and Barclay to do but tidy the inn, play chess, and keep the fire going. 

As night falls, they’re tied at two games each, and Barclay suggests they settle in with a warm drink by the fire for a change of pace. Joseph concurs, unfolds the blankets and feeds the fire as Barclay moves through the kitchen.

He raises a hand to fidget with the strap of his eyepatch and finds it’s not there. Right, he’s taken to wearing it less around the house, as Barclay has never batted an eye (hah) at how he looks without out it

“You can ask about it if you want” Joseph, seated in the washroom, lets Barclay clean mud from his face after the two of them had to help Vincent round up the goats that escaped from their pen. 

“I mean, I figured it came from something that happened when you were a marshall.”

“Got it in one.” He sighs, “a rancher told us there was a massive cattle rustling ring in town. Turns out there was, but only because he basically ran every place in town, from the railroad to the farms, and paid people chicken feed. Folks were stealing his cows to try and make ends meet. I didn’t put that all together until too late; they’d caught me. They were afraid to kill me because it would draw more lawmen to town, so they decided to do this as a warning” he taps the patch, “reason I didn’t lose the whole eye was because they were squeamish and stopped once I started screaming.” He sighs, winces as Barclay raises the patch to clean a stray bit of mud, “I never got to tell the others what I found. By the time they let me out of bed, they’d caught and hung the ringleaders.”

Barclay brushes a thumb over the scarred patch of cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

“Here we go.” Barclay sets a mug in front of him. It’s hot chocolate, made with imported chocolate from France. Barclay only uses it on special occasions. 

It tastes divine, gets even better when Barclay adds bourbon to each glass. Soon they’re shoulder to shoulder, tipsy, as the snow sticks to the windows. The living room is like a painting in a magazine meant to sell a dream that could come true if only you bought the right table. 

A branch breaks from the snow and Barclay jumps with an alarmed yip. When Joseph doesn’t react, his friend laughs, “Man, you don’t scare easy.”

“It’s a skill of the trade. But also I have absolutely been scared.”

“Badly?” Barclay pours more cocoa from the teapot and more bourbon from the bottle into each mug. 

“Once or twice, yes. The worst…well, it was when I was chasing a kidnapping ring. Took forever to get anyone to believe that’s what was going on, but those bastards were picking off people left and right. They were white, anyone they grabbed wasn’t, and I’m positive they were selling people as ‘servants. I was trying to get two people free and the watchmen woke up and spotted me. Ended up tied up with them and, well, you can see I’m not exactly lily white.” He raises his hand, only for Barclay to catch it and hold it comfortingly to his chest, “they thought it was funny to talk about, um, sodomizing me. They even put me on one of their horses the next morning so their leader could grope me and keep talking about it the whole damn afternoon.”

“How’d you get away?”

“I ran him down with his own horse when he stopped to take a piss.” 

“Holy fuck.” 

“That was enough cover to get his gun and take care of the others. It…was not pretty.”

“Whole thing woulda scared me outta my mind.” Barclay scoots closer.

“It was the being sold part that really scared me. I mean, being fucked would not have been fun, but I’d be lying if I said I’d never fantasized about being taken after someone got the upper hand on me. Wait” he looks at Barclay, “is that how Duck and Indrid first, you know…”

“No idea.” Barclay giggles, then sighs and leans into the corner of the couch, “sometimes I really envy them. Loving each other all those years, no matter what, being faithful through every fucking thing…no one ever loved me that much. Which isn’t, I, I get that most people don’t have that kind of love, but” he turns warm brown eyes on Joseph, “you know how you said you quit because you were afraid of dying without experiencing all the other things you wanted? I’m afraid the person for me is out there but I’ll never find them. I’ll make a home for everyone but myself.” He gestures to the inn around them. 

It’s not liquid courage so much as liquor drowning out the last of his doubts that makes Joseph lean forward and bring their lips together. 

“You could make it with me. At least for a little while?”

“Yes” Barclay pulls him down onto the sofa, presses him to the back of it on his side, kissing him like he’s never tasted anything as sweet as his lips. Then there’s a little growl and he says, “there’s, there’s just one more thing I need to tell you. But you have to promise to stay calm.”

“I swear.”

Barclay slips a woven bracelet from his wrist. Suddenly his legs jut over the armrest, black claws prick Joseph's skin, and the face staring adoringly at him has more hair than just a beard. 

“Ohmygod.”

“So, uh, this is how I was born looking.”

“You’re one of the apemen!” His mind bubbles with delighted curiosity.

“Technically I’m a Sylph-”

“What’s a sylph? Are they all like you? Are the other things I’ve seen Sylphs too?”

Barclay pouts, “See, this is what I was afraid of. You’d get too distracted and stop kissing me.”

Joseph is powerless in the face of such pleading eyes, “Where are my manners?”

Barclay lets out a rumbling purr as Joseph kisses him once more, teasing his tongue between his lips and running his fingers up a newly-furry arm. 

“Tomorrow, big guy, I want to know everything.”

A loving bite to his ear, “I’ll explain it all later, baby. I promise.”

—----------------------------------------------

The snow only lets up for a few days before starting again, so Barclay spends most of his time running errands to stock up on what he needs for winter and closing up the spare rooms for the season. The rest of the time is spent next to, on top of, or inside of Joseph.

The lawman kisses him good morning and brews coffee as he cooks, listens intently and asks dozens of questions about Barclay’s past and Sylvain, and falls asleep beside him at night, half the time with a book on chest. 

Barclay wonders more and more each day why it took the universe so fucking long to point him towards the person who makes this house feel like home. There’s nothing for it now but to make up for lost time. 

Sex, so far, has been a divinely slow affair, nestled under the blankets with Joseph’s hand on his cock, or his cock sunk deep into Joseph’s ass. While they both enjoy it immensely, Barclay can’t help but feel that Joseph isn’t enjoying it as much as he could. That there’s a way to make his lover–his mate, some part of him insists–moan like the star attraction in a cheap brothel.

As he’s cleaning up the kitchen after lunch the first Sunday in November, it comes to him. 

“Joseph? Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” His human looks up from his book, relaxing when he notices Barclay’s smile, “especially when it comes to things like that.”

“Then go upstairs and put on the closest thing you have to what you wore as a marshall and lay on your stomach. I’ll be up before you know it”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay takes long enough to give Joseph ample time to wonder what he’s planning. His boyfriend has preferred simple sex so far, so the request for a costume is an exciting surprise. 

When the bedroom door opens, Barclay whistles, “wow, you went all out.”

“You said to dress how I would have.” He blushes into the blankets.

“Guess I did. Boots are a surprise though.” Floorboards creak as Barclay moves toward him, “here’s what I’m thinking. I’m thinking you never got to live out your fantasy of being bested. And that I’ve been dreaming about tying you up.”

“Ohyes.”

A soft, hungry growl, “get on your elbows and knees.”

Joseph obeys, glances excitedly at Barclay when he sits on the bed with a deep blue rope in hand. 

“Had someone bring it over for me from Sylvain. Gonna feel nice and soft. Now” he loops one end around Joseph’s wrist, “close your eyes and just breathe for me.”

He does, sighing at each light touch and tightening of the rope. When Barclay is through, his wrists are connected to his ankles, even as they rest on the bed in front of him, making him feel like a bitch in heat with his ass in the air. 

“There we go.” Barclay kisses his back, “You ready?”

“Yes.” 

“Good. You need me to stop say, um, say red? Yeah lets go with that.”

The cook climbs off the bed, and a moment later a hard smack lands on Joseph’s ass. 

“Ahfuck!”

“Not quite so tough now are you, mr. government agent?”

“Fuck, fuck you, person I’ve definitely never met before.”

Barclay snickers, “You can cuss all you want. Won’t change a thing.” His boots are pulled off, then Barclay starts on the buttons of his pants, “you and me got business.”

“I have zero idea what kind you mean.” He gasps as Barclay eases his pants down and then gropes his ass.

“Guess it’s more I got business with this and the rest of you just happens to be attached.” A jar unscrews, then two, slick fingers tease his ass, “mmm, lookit this. Don’t know why you’re wasting your time chasing people like a trained dog. This is what you were made for.”

“Fuck you” he moans as Barclay presses his fingers inside, lazily fucking with him them as he traces hearts on his ass. 

“Don’t be sore because you got caught. You’re in for too much rough stuff to feel that way before we even get started.”

“I, I am for sure still a u.s marshall. You can’t talk to me like that.”

The fingers fuck him twice, roughly, then Barclay pulls them away, “Let’s get one thing real clear. This” he rubs the head of his dick against Joseph’s ass, “is the only thing you answer to from now on. And I don’t give a fuck what you were before.” He pushes halfway in and Joseph yelps, “far as I’m concerned, you’re a toy I get to use whenever I want.” The rest of his cock sinks in and Joseph moans, trying to adjust to the stretch but unable to due to his bonds. 

“Please.” It’s a feeling more than a thought, and Barclay kisses his shoulder as he slowly fucks him.

“Aww, big tough marshall is already begging. That’s real cute.” He slaps Joseph’s ass twice, “but I’m gonna make you beg even better than that. First” another slap, “I’m gonna make you beg for more. Then I’m gonna make you beg me to stop.”

He whines into the pillow as Barclay picks up the pace, slapping his ass almost carelessly, like he doesn’ care that it’s making Joseph moan louder and louder each time. 

“Fuuuuck, guess I know you didn’t sleep your way to the top, you’re so fucking tight.” Another slap, “might as well be fucking a virgin from how much you’re squealing too.”

“I am notAH, ahhhhnnyes, oh Barclay yes” He pushes his hips back as Barclay’s cock drags in just the right spot. 

“That’s it baby, take it deep, start learning to enjoy that feeling because it’s happening every night whether you like it or not because you are fucking mine.”

Joseph cums on the sheets with a gasp, which only serves to make Barclay dig his fingers into his hips and fuck him hard and fast. His boyfriend pulls out before he’s done, cumming across his ass. 

“You look good like this” a hand smears through the spattering of cum, making a mess of his skin.

“What, what happened to making me beg to stop?” Joseph teases.

Clawed fingers scrape the backs of his thighs, “Who said I was done?”

“OhmyAHfuck” He’s only taken Barclay’s cock like this once, and the stretch is so intense tears well up in his eyes even as he moans. 

His cock brushes the bed and he whimpers, body rapidly becoming too sensitive. Barclay just laughs and whacks his thigh this time, “Not my fault your human dick can only go one round.”

“It’s too much, please-”

“That’s not the magic word.” Barclay slows a moment, giving him time to say red. 

He doesn't want to, no matter how many tears are on his cheeks. All he wants is Barclay.

“Please, I’ll do anything, justAH, ahgod” his arms give out and his chest hits the bed as growls fill the air behind him.

“Say you’ll be a good little mate.”

“I’ll be a, a good little mate.”

“And that this ass is mine” claws prick both sides of it as Barclay’s thrusts speed up.

“Yes, yes, yours, whatever you want” it’s getting harder to form words. 

“Good, because what I want is to cum in it so fucking hard you’ll remember it for fucking weeks” there’s a howlgrowlpurr as Barclay pumps into him, still fucking him even as he starts to soften. 

When the pulls out, all it takes is two tugs for the ropes to fall away, allowing Joseph to roll on his back. 

“Good?” Barclay, still in his Sylph form, crawls atop him, making the needy little sounds that he’s learning are a “thank you.”

“Amazing.” He pets red-brown fur and kisses a fuzzy cheek, “you can be my outlaw any day. As long as you’re my boyfriend for all of them.”

As the wind rattles the shutters on the inn, Barclay kisses him and purrs, “I think I can handle that.

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #western au #lonesome moth #promptober #terato

[medusapelagia]

06 AU-gust: Domestic

Rating: Teen and up Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: homophobic language WC: 897

Eddie insisted that their house should have been the freedom house, where everyone was welcome and no one was judged.

That’s why, when they finally find a little two-bedroom apartment, they give the key to their apartment to everyone.

In their living room, either Steve or Eddie has had some very deep conversation.

Max has asked Steve if it’s normal to like both boys and girls and after a very long conversation about how normal it’s an adjective that shouldn’t even exist, they conclude that it is ok. 

Steve never asks if Max is thinking of someone in particular and she never tells him, but he is pretty sure that there is a very special girl that Max could be attracted to. 

On the other side, Eddie talks to Will a lot, either about D&D, music, or… sex.

He isn’t shy about his sexuality and Steve and he are always touching somehow, so Will feels comfortable enough to confess to him that he thinks he is gay and he is deeply in love with Mike.

It’s nice to see the kids act like kids and ask them the questions they are not comfortable asking their parents, but sometimes their house feel too small.

Steve has had a very horrible day at work: one of the customers has seen him kiss Eddie before getting to work and he kept insulting him while choosing his movies and when Steve refused to let him rent the movies he chose, Keith threatened him to fire him.

He has left the store without even knowing if he will have to go back to work tomorrow. He needs some place to vent, but when he gets home the kids are watching a movie with Eddie. 

“You are home soon.” Eddie tells him surprised “Did something happen?”

Steve shakes his head, he is a big boy. He can deal with his own shit.

“Keith gave me some free time. No one was renting movies at ten o’clock in the morning and I have done a lot of extra shifts this month.”

The last part, at least, is true.

Eddie hums, studying him like he could coax the truth out of him only with his stare, but Steve doesn’t falter. He has a long story of dealing with people who tried to break him harder than Eddie.

He takes a beer from the fridge and goes to his room.

Well. Their room.

Somehow they have decided that Steve’s room is the room where they sleep, and Eddie’s room is for everyone who needs a place for the night, usually Max or Robin.

He sits on the bed, gulping his beer as fast as he can. 

He needs to find another job. And fast. The rent is due in a couple of days and Eddie is still recovering from his injuries and he can’t ask him to start working to pay the rent.

He sighs, he could sell the car and buy a cheaper one.

A gentle knock on the door drags him out of his thoughts.

“Can I come in?”

“You don’t have to ask. You know that.”

Eddie smiles and sits next to Steve.

“You ok?”

“I’m good. Where are the kids?”

“I sent them home.”

“Why?”

“Because something happened and you need some time to vent.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“And you were lying then and you are lying now.” He replies still smiling, then he lies on the bed and gestures to Steve to lie with him and he does, lying with his head on Eddie’s chest, feeling the gentle up and down of his chest and the constant beat of his heart.

There was a time when he really thought he would not be able to hear the stable thrum of his heart anymore.

Eddie’s long fingers are caressing his scalp when he finally breaks.

“I think Keith is going to fire me.”

“He always threatens you, but he never does.”

“I refused to serve a customer.”

Eddie’s fingers stay still for a moment, then they keep their motion.

“Why?”

“He was rude.”

“Ruder than me?”

“He… he called me names.” He finally admits.

“Which names, baby?” 

“Just… names.”

“Like sweetheart? Or pumpkin? Or sweet pie?” Eddie asks, kissing his head every time until Steve starts to giggle.

“Not that kind of name.”

“So which ones?”

Steve Sighs, burying his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck “Fag. And fairy. And he told me that my father is ashamed of me and that he never thought that the town’s golden boy would have ended up with…”

“With some trailer trash?” Eddie asks sweetly, his fingers still deep in Steve’s hair.

He nods, not wanting to move.

“Are you ashamed of yourself, baby?”

“No but…”

“I know it hurt, baby, and I’m really sorry it happened to you.” He kisses the crown of his head “I don’t think that Keith will fire you, but if you want to find a new job we will find a new one.”

“But I'm good at nothing!” Steve complaints.

“You are good at so many things, and what you are not good at you can learn.” He kisses him again “Now rest a little, uh? I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

Steve nods but doesn’t move.

“Baby?”

“Can you stay a little bit?”

Eddie smiles, holding him tighter “As long as you like, baby.”

#tumblr fic #myfanfic #steddie #au gust 2023 #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #domestic #writing challenge #medusapelagia fanfic #medusapelagia #my fanfic