#nice to me and doesn't make me feel like a fucking burden

[jaysgirlx]

Can you do a fic based off of https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRcsG8Yu/ this TikTok when Jason and reader was talking and it got deep and he joked about off!ng himself and the reader sits with him all night just in case he wasn’t joking? Please? I love your writing so much and if this is a touchy topic feel free to ignore or correct. Have a nice day!

❝ 𝐈’𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❥ pairing: jason todd x civilian f!reader

❥ summary: Jason and you are close, you always have been so close that you thought you knew him well enough to read his mind except you're wrong about that, and what you learn ends up scaring you more.

❥ warnings: mentions of death/suicide/afterlife, reminiscing of torture, heavy angst, little fluff, happy ending

❥ wc: 1.5k

Your fingers, combed through Jason's black locks while he focused his attention on you. The two of you had moments on these where you sat together in a comfortable silence. They tended to happen when one of you was upset, usually you but tonight you could tell something was wrong with Jason. So you kept quiet and let him rest. You didn't know if late nights like these would last forever.

"How long are you going to play with my hair princess?"

"Until you tell me what's wrong Jay"

Again you both fell into a silence. This time it was awkward like maybe you should've played dumb but it was too late night to think that. Jason sighed and sat up on your couch and laid his head on your lap. You tried to remove your hand from his hair but he gave this look like this is what he needed at least for tonight.

You weren't sure if or when you and Jason had crossed the friend boundary. The two of you obviously had not slept together but you had kissed numerous times. Sometimes when he was anxious you'd kiss him just to calm him down and it worked, except for the fact you'd end up making out. Or when he would go on patrol and you were worried he would kiss you and then he'd end up cuddling you till you slept off. The kisses you both shared were like little reassurances of love. Though the two of you never actually spoke about what they really meant.

You had wanted to for the longest time but you didn't because in the end you always knew that Jason cared for you. You could tell by the way he always left you breakfast when he had to leave while you were asleep or by the way he'd walk you home if you had decided to work overtime. Jason cared in his own little way and you take what you got especially since he made the best pancakes.

"I fought with Bruce today, he took Dick's side on something and I just got mad…I know they both care, but it doesn't feel like it sometimes y'know? It still feels like they're Batman and Nightwing and I'm still Robin" He stopped himself from speaking further like if he spoke more, he'd say something he'd regret. Jason didn't want to drop all his problems on you because he knew you would listen and he knew you'd comfort him. You did so much for him and was slightly worried he was becoming too much. Jason didn't want to become a burden to you, he enjoyed spending time with you and he didn't wan to fuck that up.

"I've always got your side Jay if that helps and you're not Robin anymore okay and regardless of that, Robin didn't make you…well you" you say, caressing his face. "You're just you Jay and if they've got a problem with you well then they have a problem with me"

"Well, I think I hate myself if I'm being honest" Those words made your hands stop and now you started to really listen. You knew Jason wasn't exactly happy with his life but you didn't think he hated himself. He was so cocky all the time that you couldn't even fathom the idea of him hating himself. "These days getting up in the mornings is so difficult and a good night's rest…I don't remember the last time I had one"

"Well I think we all can relate to that, life kinda sucks for all of us Jay. Everything we do is out of our hands and it seems like no matter how hard we try we're never fully just happy"

"You got that right, the last time I was really happy was…well nevermind, But sometimes I think about killing myself"

"Well I mean we all have, I thought about it a couple of times when work gets hard but-

"No y/n, I mean like really killing myself, like just putting my gun to my head and that's it." He laughs but you still don't manage to find it funny. "I know damn well there will be plenty of people who will probably find it pretty, my brains splattered everywhere and my body lifeless"

"I'd really prefer you'd not do that Jay"

"Okay but in all seriousness-"

"I don't want to hear this Jay"

"I'd want you to plan my funeral, you'd make it beautiful and hopefully not gloomy"

"Jay is this a funny matter, stop joking around"

"I doubt there's an afterlife, seeing that I did die once and I don't remember any floating gates or firey pits"

"Jay please stop it"

"C'mon we both know without you, I'd be better off-"

"No." you said and it came out broken. Jason looked up at you, you weren't playing with his hair anymore, you were crying. He tried to reach up and your tears away but you pushed away his hand. He hadn't meant to upset you, he didn't mean it. Well, he did but he wasn't going to, not when you still cared for him. You were what he was living for. "No, you can't do that Jay"

He again tries to wipe your tears and this time you let him, he sits up and kisses your forehead wishing he had never said anything. You were his world and all he could ever ask for. Without you, who would be there for him after a bad run on patrol? or when his nightmares would start coming back? Deep down Jason Todd is scared of living, he's scared of living without you. "I won't sweetheart, I won't, I promise. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said any of that"

Now he's holding you and rubbing your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. The two of you fell back into your comfortable silence, while Jason made himself comfortable again laying his head on your lap. He hates seeing you that way, with that look of fear and worry. He never wanted to cause it. He wanted to say something but all those hours of patrol and working overtime finally caught up to him. He thought he'd just take a nap, he didn't want to burden you with how heavy he was, lying on his lap but he couldn't help you, your lap was so comfy.

For a while, you watched Jason and didn't know why you were. He said he wouldn't hurt himself, he promised. Still, you were scared because of the way he talked about it...it was clear it wasn't the first time. You knew he had fallen asleep, his tell was that his breathing had slowed. You picked that up when he started coming over early in that morning to nap with you. Jason was only ever truly calm when was he asleep with you.

Watching him like this felt natural like you had to do this. You knew he was serious about killing himself and you just couldn't imagine a life with him, without Jason. Gently you caressed his sleeping face, admiring how handsome he was. The things that happened to him, you knew they affected him but you didn't want to think he'd go as far as to…no you couldn't think of it.

You leaned your own body back on the couch and tried to relax. You'd stay all night with him if you had to, you'd make sure he was safe. You weekend a vigilante like him, you couldn't fight and protect him from villains but you could protect him from himself. It probably seems crazy that you want to protect Jason Todd from himself but it's all you know how to do. You're not completely sure if Jason loves you but you know that you love him.

"I will always be with you, I'm yours Jay, I'm with you" you whisper sweetly against his forehead, before planting a soft kiss. You watch him all night and he sleeps quietly and hopefully comfortably with his head resting on your lap. You didn't work the next day and you had stayed up all night before, this wouldn't be difficult for you.

Even if it was, it was for Jason and he was always worth any trouble. You wish you could tell him that but that's a conversation for another time, for now, you just want to make sure he is still alive every morning.

When Jason Todd wakes up the following morning, you're drinking what he thinks is probably coffee and reading a book. His eyes fixate on you and he reaches up to brush his hand against your face, you smile at the soft touch. HE lets out a yawn and finally speaks up, "Whatcha doing up so early, princess?"

"Just admiring you Jay"

"M'sorry for sleeping on you, and I'm even more sorry for making you feel upset last night, you're…you're very important to me y/n, and as long as you'll have me, I'll be here"

"And I'm with you, for as long as you'll have me" you say with a smile as you hand him the rest of your coffee. He drank the rest before gently pressing a kiss to your lips. Another reassure of his love

Jason Todd was yours for a lifetime and you were happy with just that.

❥ a/n: sorry this took so long anon! I kept rewriting it because I didn't like how it was going. btw comment to be added to my taglist.

❥ taglist: @meowkn, @nia-jul, @woodenanemone, @millyhelp, @yourlocalcringydaydreamer, @kazzattack, @orchidsangel, @gleasonlovesjasontodd, @jason-anon

#✩ kleo's kollection ✩ #✩ secret messages ✩ #✩ just for you hun ✩ #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x f!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #jason todd is red hood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x f!reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x female reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood fluff #red hood angst #dc x reader #dc x y/n #dc x you

[chuuyasheaven]

RAAAAAAAAH idk if this counts as an ask but this specific scenario has been marinating in my mind for WEEKS and i think you might enjoy it :3c

to put it shortly ive been thinking of hot-headed reader who has trouble containing their temper (im not projecting whar do you mean) x chuuya (established relationship) that goes from angst to smut…. teehee

basically chuuya and reader begin arguing bc i hc that EVEN THOUGH CHUUYA IS EXTREMELY LOYAL AND DOTING TO THE ONES HE CARES ABOUT…. his temper often gets the best of him. Recently, chuuya had been very busy, and reader knew that, and continuously made an effort to help him in whatever ways they could, be it making dinner/lunch for him, offering to help with paperwork, etc. BUT thing is.. chuuya isn't really noticing this and treats them like a nuisance. He hasn't said anything outright insulting or upsetting, but he treats reader so differently, like he's silently blaming reader for his own temper and mood. He doesn't even call them by their nickname/petname anymore, everything feels so distant now.

So in an attempt to yk, NOT give up on their relationship, reader decides to confront chuuya about this in a calm manner, but he blindly lashes out and reader is NOT having ANY of it… cue a petty back and forth between him and reader, and reader gets out of the house to cool off and meanwhile chuuya finally comes to his senses. He tries to reason with reader when they come back, but they end up doing exactly what chuuya did to them, dismissing him and not accepting any form of half-assed apology. and so,,,,,, chuuya tries to make it up to reader,,,, if ikwym :3c

cue chuuya eating out reader like his life depends on it /jjj ((THIS IS SO LONG LMAO IM LITERALLY SOSORRY))

"You're not getting tired of me, are you?" // C. Nakahara

Summary. Recently, Chuuya has been kinda distant lately, mostly due to his work. This also resulted into you mostly overthinking— what if he isn't at the office all the time just like says? With this thought at the back of your mind, you tried to make an effort to be nice and caring as possible, only for Chuuya to decline the food you make him, denying any help you offer and barely spending time, which made the thoughts even more scary. When you can't take it anymore, you snap, at first he didn't get what your problem was until he thought about your earlier attempts. Now driven with guilt, Chuuya wants to assure you're the most important thing to him and makes up for his actions in the process.

Tags. Chuuya N. / afab! Reader, the summary pretty much already tells the story, angst to smut to fluff maybe, miscommunication, Reader prolly has anxiety, swearing, ooc! Chuuya, suspicions of cheating, Chuuya didn't notice at first but it's okay he'll make it up by licking pussy ^_^, might be cringe, short too idk, Reader might be KINDAAA based off me, petnames (baby, doll, darlin', sweetheart), oral sex (afab! receiving), praising, overstimulation? , p in v, who knows maybe i fucked up the ask and wrote smth else, for the first time ever porn WITH plot, might have a rushed end, might contain grammar errors, etc.

"Hey, Chuuya, wanna eat? I made your favorite!", you said with a nervous tone painted in your voice, which Chuuya didn't really notice. "No, baby, I can't. Sorry, maybe next time?", he answered without even exchanging looks with you, just doing his paperwork as if it was more important to him. It's been like this for several days already and you did nothing but trying to help Chuuya to make things easier, but he didn't budge. You slowly started to get annoyed and just walked away to eat by yourself, silently.

With all kind of negative thoughts which caused you to overthink. These "thoughts" didn't leave you alone since he's become more distant. What if he's losing interest? What if he's not always late in the office? Am I annoying him and a burden? After you finished eating, you just put his plate into the fridge and sat alone in your living room. Some while later, Chuuya came to see you for a few minutes before returning to work. He tired hugging you but you rejected it. Confused, he looks at you before asking. "What's wrong, doll?", did he seriously just ask you that? After pushing away for the— what? The millionth time for his work? At this innocent question you snapped, well, not really but you were beyond pissed.

When Chuuya told you that he was probably busy for the next days, you understood, at first. Knowing Chuuya, he could make some time for you in between, right? He was your really loyal, sweet and loving boyfriend, caring was he too, of course Chuuya should be able to make atleast a little time. And to his credit, he did, at first. He took breaks in which he spent time with you, cooking your food with you, and also other activities you guys normally do. But with time, Chuuya got more and more work and spent less and less time with you. You also understood at first, and trying to be a good girlfriend, you tried to take some work off his back by doing some paperwork with him, only to deny you. Don't get Chuuya wrong, he appreciated it, but he'd rather do it himself. You understood, leaving him be, but then he started to work late, staying behind in the office. That's when you started to overthink a little. You really didn't want to let you thoughts get to you, Chuuya is loyal and so loving he would never, right? Why was he even staying so late in the first place? Was it because you constantly asked him to help to the point he wanted to work in the office at work? These thoughts would slowly consume you later on, and instead of speaking with Chuuya about it, you kept it to yourself, you didn't want to annoy him anyways. It's been 3 days later and he didn't even say a single word to you, just work, work, work. Were you even Chuuya's top priority at this point? You just let him distance himself, in hope of him noticing your presence. All this did was make the situation worse, to the point where you cried yourself to sleep at night feeling unwanted. Did Chuuya finally notice? No, his head is still drowned in paperwork. "Chuuya, do you have time right now?" — "No. Go do something else, doll, I still have work left." His tone had some harshness to it, a hint of annoyance too. But maybe it was because of the stress because of work. "I could help him maybe.", you told yourself, you don't want him to overwork himself, has he even eaten today? "Well, maybe I could help with the paper—" — "You can't, so please go. I still have a lot left." — "But I could—" — "Just go, I'm busy. I can't really talk with you 'cause you're gonna distract me." What a reason, but you can't let him push you away now, can you? "Chuuya, please, I just wanna help you—" — "Just leave me the hell alone and do something else. Look, I love you for trying, I don't need your help the only this you're doing right now is distracting me." "If you say so." Was all you said before leaving his home office without saying another word.

That was the last time you talked to him during these days, but today, was the day you finally snapped at him for pushing you away all these days. And for what did he push you away? For trying to be nice and take some shit off his back? "What's wrong?! What's wrong is that you pushed me away for— what? A week and a half?!", you explained with anger behind your voice, which Chuuya wasn't familiar with. "Doll, I didn't push you away—", before he could speak you went on. "Stop with the bullshit. Whenever I tried helping with anything you always denied me! I can't do this anymore.", you said with a crack in your voice, now Chuuya slowly got pissed too, was it his fault for having an asshole of a boss?

"Do you think I want to do this? Who in the hell would participate in such work as a fucking joke?!", he said rather louder than you. "Your damn work seems to be more important that me, when was the last time you looked me in my face?", you stood up from the couch. "You wouldn't even know what to do!", "I could've if you took some fucking time to explain!", you shouted back, this is where Chuuya might have lost his temper. "Why the hell should I? You won't even understand when I tell you to leave! I'm sorry if the world doesn't fucking revolve around you, some people have other priorities?!", his voice got angrier and louder.

"Appearently I'm not your first priority, which is what I'm supposed to be?! I just wanted to spend time with you, but if I'm so fucking 'distracting' then I'll leave!", "Oh, so now you can take a damn hint?", he called after you tried to walk away. "What?", you stopped and turned around to face him. "Fuck you, then. I'm done, go do your work which is more important to me! All I was doing was to try—", "I don't give a fuck if you were "trying" shit! Just fucking don't because it won't matter anyway all you're being is annoying and desperate.", Chuuya shouted at you.

"So I'm annoying you now?", you said, your voice going quieter. "Yeah, with the way you were constantly up in my shit. You're not the most important thing right now, just stop trying to stress me more than you already are.", when he said that, you were facing the floor, fighting back the angry tears that were building up. "Alright, go do your work. I'll leave you to it.", you muttered, walking towards your door to take a walk. Chuuya just tsk'ed and went back to his room. It was quiet in the apartment, Chuuya was working on some papers left when he thought about your earlier argument. Wondering why you started it, he thought about what you said and slowly realized that what you said was true. He has gotten more distant, he was a little rude to you about leaving him alone and barely paid you and your attempts to help attention.

Knowing he probably fucked up in those past days, hurting your feelings and calling you 'annoying and desperate' probably caused the biggest guilt he ever experienced. Chuuya tried calling you but you hung up instantly. Okay, reasonable. The second time he called you took you're time to pick up. "Hey, baby—", "What do you want?", you asked coldly. "I thought you wanted to be left alone.", Chuuya could hear the pain in your voice. "Look, darling, you know I didn't mean what I said. It was the stress—", you really didn't wanna hear him right now, especially his excuses. "Sorry, Chuuya but I don't really wanna talk right now, since I'm annoying you anyways, talk to you later.", before getting another word out, you hung up. Chuuya just took deep sigh and thought of ways to apologize and make it up to you.

You first left at 6pm but returned at 8pm, you were a little tired after walking a lot so you looked forward to lay in your shared bed, alone again probably. You changed into Chuuya's shirt just like you have been these last several days for some missing closure, not forgetting your shorts before you sat on the bed to be on your phone. Not even five minutes later, the door creaked open, revealing Chuuya with a guilt driven face. "What?, you asked him once again. "Can we talk, please?", you just stared at him before nodding. He sat down on the bed, patting the space next to him, you moved to the edge of the bed to sit down next to him.

"I'm sorry,", Chuuya started. "I'm sorry for neglecting you these past days, didn't mean to make you feel like a burden.", "So you finally got the hint?", you ask sarcastically. "Baby, I mean it. I shouldn't have priotized my work over you and pushed you away during it. I never wanted to feel unimportant.", he held your hand now, gently caressing it. "The stress made me act this way probably and i shouldn't have lashed out at you. You forgive me?", your gaze was still as cold. Chuuya just pulled you close to him, finally after a week, this made you realize that you missed him more than you thought.

Chuuya stroked your back, kissing your forehead first, then your cheeks, and lastly, your lips— those lips he hasn't kissed for something which felt like an eternity. He just wanted to make it up to you one way or another. "Lay down, dollface, wanna make you feel good.", Chuuya said to you while he was holding your chin. "I haven't fully forgiven you yet, y'know that, right?", looking away while you said this, Chuuya just had to chuckle. "You're gonna when I'm done with you, trust me.", you rolled your eyes and just laid back like he wanted. Chuuya moved himself between your legs, removing the shorts and panties blocking his path and letting your legs hang over his shoulders.

"No need to tense up, pretty, jus' relax,", he whispered, pressing kisses to your thighs, never breaking eye contact. Those kisses started to get closer and closer to your cunt, which was waiting for his tongue. Once his mouth got to it's destination, Chuuya started his work. He ate you out like his life depended on it, but he made sure he won't make a big mess. You where quietly moaning, trying to not be heard by him. "Why so quiet, sweetheart?", he lightly teased, you just looked away again. "C'mon, look at me. I wanna make you feel good, remember that?", you looked back at him, your cheeks were slightly flushed and lust was filled in your eyes. Chuuya dived back in and kept his eye contact with you, looking at you while you try to bite down your moans. This only made him suck on your clit, which also broke your silence.

It didn't take long for you to finish with Chuuya looking at you while pleasuring you. As you came on his tongue, still breathing unsteady, Chuuya got up between your legs. "You're so perfect like this, darlin'.", he whispered before kissing you, you could loosely taste yourself on his tongue. While he was kissing you, he freed his cock out of his pants. Chuuya stopped kissing you for a second to insert his dick inside you. He stroked your folds with his tip to catch some slick and entered almost easily, as if your cunt was sucking him in. "Fuck, I forgot how good you felt around me. Forgive me for neglecting this perfect— oh, fuck!", he cut himself off by starting to thrust.

If you weren't loud earlier, you definitely were now. Chuuya was kissing you while being inside you, thrusting while his lips were on yours, whispering "I love you"s and apologies to you. "You're so good for me, fuck— I love you so much.", his thrusts got sloppier, meaning he was close. Your arms were thrown around his neck as you threw your head back, you could feel your upcoming orgasm. "Chuuya— shit, 'm so close, please don't stop!", "Wasn't planning on it, you feel way too good for that, baby.", as your cunt clenched down around him, he surprisingly moaned, instantly cumming inside you. He thrusted once more and that's when you came undone a second time.

"So. . did you change your mind, doll?"

@moth-of-mythos // @pretendtobesick04 // @alastors-deerest // @shi-nakano // @samutoru // @munnaitorei // @sjsnsidream // @shuwyyx // @skelitea // @xaviawinter // @cvidy // @cherrytreegrove // @skk-lover // @pe4rl-diver // @walking-simp

Sorry if ur tag didn't work 😕 also sorry if I fucked the storyline up

#chuuya'sheaven ♡ #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara smut #chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd smut #chuuya angst

[erwinsvow]

i’m lime green jello rn… need some jealous shy!reader and rafe

rafe had said he invited some other friends. you thought it would be a quiet gathering, just topper and kelce like usual, playing their games and discussing whatever it was your boyfriend talked about with his friends over beers.

you didn't do so well with big crowds, something rafe knew already, but you were getting used to hanging out with the three of them together. you got along with them well, and they didn't seem to mind your quietness like you worried they would.

in the car ride over, rafe told you some other people might be coming. you had tensed up immediately. your first thought was wondering if you could handle being around new people, your second if you could make it through the night like you had originally wanted to.

you knew it was stupid, it always felt that way. and normally rafe was so understanding about your personality, so accommodating. you felt guilty even bringing it up tonight, not wanting to burden him with your issues. sucking it up, you went inside, thinking you could make it work.

you did for most of the night. after rafe left to try and sell like he always did, you talked with kelce and topper on the couch, eating pretzels while they went through beers, introducing yourself to one or two people who came to say hi to them.

you didn't do well away from rafe in situations like this. yes, it was fucked up, that you were so reliant on your boyfriend. you knew it and didn't care anymore, craning your neck to see where he'd gone off to.

"he's over there, princess," kelce comments, gesturing to the far corner of the room. the nickname made you feel clammy and embarrassed—it only felt right coming out of rafe's mouth. you turn to look, watching rafe talk with a pretty girl, leaning in close to say something, the girl smiling and laughing.

in that moment, everything went silent except the sound of your heart thumping in your ears. she was pretty, with an aura of self-assurance that you so profoundly lacked. she didn't seem painfully shy or skittish, she didn't seem like talking to a stranger made her face burn and shoulders shake. she talked to your boyfriend like she knew him, like they were close.

jealousy rakes over you, painting your features green with envy. first, that rafe was talking to this girl so closely, that he had forgotten about you on the couch with his friends. second, that this girl seemed like the epitome of everything you wanted to be—surefooted, confident, pretty enough that she knew it without someone having to remind her all the time.

"who's that?" you ask, though it comes out shaky.

"uh, i think that girl he used to date-" topper starts, but kelce kicks him in the shin. "ow, what the fuck?"

kelce shakes his head, motioning with his eyes to your figure, eyes fixated on your boyfriend and the girl.

"oh, um, the girl he used to hang with. yes, hang out with. that's right," topper corrects with a cough.

it all seems like background noise. you get up, leaving the boys on the couch and heading towards rafe without a second thought. when he sees you, he smiles, opening his arms to bring you in. you don't lean in though, like you always do.

"hey, kid. this is my friend sofia."

"hi," you say, smiling at the pretty girl. "nice to meet you." you turn to rafe, talking so quietly he has to lean in. he brings an arm around your back, bringing you a few feet away.

"hm?"

"can you take me home, please?"

"y'just got here. what's up?" you hesitate for a moment, faltering. then you glance back at rafe's friend, looking at the two of you, her gaze on rafe.

"i didn't come here to watch you talk to some other girl all night." rafe blinks, a little taken aback. in all the months he's known you, he doesn't think you've ever said something so sharp to him.

"excuse me?" he thinks you'll apologize like you always do.

"you heard me," you reply, crossing your arms. "can you take me home or should i walk?" even with your attitude, the question is asked politely, or so he thought. "if you're so busy with her, i'll walk."

rafe laughs, and your eyes get watery. it would be one thing if he understood your feelings once you said it, but he laughed. you turn away, when rafe grabs your arm and keeps you close to him, bringing you further away from the crowd of people.

"what, kid? you jealous, hm? is that what this is?" tears spill down your face before you can stop them, an angry retort bubbling up. it dies in your throat before you can get it out. "she is a friend, s'all. you got that?" rafe brings his knuckles to your temple, tapping softly.

"you didn't tell me about her, and topper said she's your ex girlfriend-"

"he's got a big fuckin' mouth. we went out once. one time. haven't seen her since."

"you invited her-"

"i invited two people, she came with them. now, you want me to leave with you?"

you feel another tear spilling down. you don't rafe to leave the fun for you. he brings his hand to your face, wiping it away.

"we can go right now. don't care. not here for her or anyone else, here for you. got that?" you nod, leaning into his touch. an apology lingers on your touch, but you refrain, still a little angry.

you grab rafe by the collar of his shirt, pulling it in towards you and into a kiss. you stay like that for minutes, not letting go while you make out, catching the attention of others around you. when you let go, his shirt is wrinkled and his lips are red.

"okay, let's go." he follows you out, laughing to himself.

"jealous. you're cute, kid."

#shy reader doesnt do well with jealousy she mostly gets sad :( #im so sorry #i feel like this isn't what you maybe wanted ? #its just what came out but i hope you like! #ty so much for requesting #if ur lime green jello im red <3 #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader

[spidercomics]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 (𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆).

pairing(s): avatar!jake x f!na'vi!reader.

summary: "all the things you want to do, just relax and i'll take care of you" ─ being the olo'eyktan's oldest daughter, you rarely take time to enjoy yourself. luckily, jake knows how to make you loosen up.

contents: established relationship, talks about missing meals, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, riding, m/f ejaculation, overstimulation (kinda).

wc: 2.59k

a/n: normally i dont like the uh, "neytiris sister" shit but, here we go ig, tried not to mention her too much, felt kinda guilty 😭😭 bear with me on this one, haven't written since april. i cant believe i wrote fucking alien sex

glossary:

"yom wutsot"; eat (your) meal/food.

"rutxe"; please.

all your life, you'd strived to be perfect. you'd be constantly disappointed in yourself if you didn't exceed expectations in every task and skill you tried to master. you were also scared of failure, one of the main issues as to why you got so much stress and anxiety when stuff didn't work out as planned, or things changed last minute. it was a big problem for you, until jake came along.

jake was carefree, one; because he came from an entirely different planet, he didn't know anyone and didn't have anyone to disappoint or impress, and two; he was just a free spirit. he lived now, he did what he wanted, and he didn't look back. jake had the mindset you'd love to have.

all you ever wanted to hear was that someone was proud of you, not how you could improve, not what you could to better next time — no, you wanted to hear that you did well, make you feel like you've accomplished something, not just gotten better at it.

jake had filled that place, reminding you often how proud he is and sometimes playing extra dumb just to somehow boost your confidence. he's cocky, but he doesn't come close to the amount of skills you have, he'll admit that much.

sitting by the fire, jake didn't listen to the conversation neytiri and tsu'tey tried to involve him in. he was grateful of them trying to make him feel included, but he also felt kinda like a burden; since he restricted them from using their native tongue around him — just so he'd understand. it was nice, but unnecessary in this case when he didn't pay attention to them anyway.

he was eyeing the clusters of families and friends around the fire, but he didn't see you. you weren't there.

jake knew there was an annual feast coming up, and knowing you, it had to be perfect. you were probably working your ass of planning it somewhere, and here he was, enjoying a meal and talking to his friends.

selfish.

you heard someone walking into your tent, jake had a certain scent, and along with the way he always dragged his heavy feet around, you had heard him coming. knowing it was jake, you didn't make a move to acknowledge him.

"y/n?"

the sigh you let out before answering almost made him nervous, "ma jake."

he loved how you said his name.

"i brought you dinner."

"i have already ate." he hated how you didn't even turn around to answer him, too occupied with weaving finishing touches to decorative cloths.

"don't lie," walking up to you, jake lazily set down the bowl on a nearby surface, crouching down and resting his hands on your shoulders, "you need to take a break, you've been sitting here since morning."

"it needs to be perfect jake, the feast is tomorrow and mother keeps telling me how this is a big celebration of me completing the passage."

"everything will look perfect, don't be so harsh on yourself," jake reached over to grab the bowl of food before sitting in front of you, now in your line of sight. you didn't look up tho, not until he handed you the food and it smelled so good your insides started making an embarrassingly loud noise, "yom wutsot."

this made you look up. jake didn't use na'vi more than necessary, but whenever he did, he sure got your attention. you wanted him to speak it more, it would help him learn it better too. you grabbed the bowl, and jake let a small, smug smile grace his face in celebration.

jake let you eat without talking your ear off (as he usually would), and instead letting himself observe the beautiful patterns you've chosen to weave. he didn't understand why you were being so hard on yourself, as if the work wouldn't be appreciated no matter how it looked. maybe not by your parents to a full, but by the people. you were a role model for everyone already, you didn't have to prove yourself anymore.

watching you stand up and moving across the tent to leave the bowl, he had been on his feet not long after — reaching for your empty hands. he engulfed your smaller ones in his own, and using the grip to start swaying with you. you let out a small laugh, before leaning your head in his neck and enjoying the solid warmth he gave you. skin on skin, jake closed his eyes, feeling your hands now laying flat against his upper back, pushing him impossibly closer. one of his hands wrapped around your waist, starting to control your swaying, and the other grabbing the back of your neck, occasionally moving your hair through his fingers.

your breathing fell in rhythm with his own, feeling the slight brush of air against the nape of his neck. your heartbeat had slowed considerably, the complete warmth and comfortable hold of jake calming you down from the stressed out state he found you in. jake's heart, on the other hand, had picked up. your fingers tracing his back sent chills up his spine, in the best way possible, and he would never get enough of how easy you made him melt into a mess.

jake was sure that you could throw a dagger into his chest and his heart would still be whole, beating for you, until his death. you hadn't mated yet, and with the frequent attacks from the rda, jake wanted it over with — to connect before it was too late, wanting to feel your souls connecting like they were meant to, atleast once.

your hands traced around his torso, palms against his chest before straightening yourself, your hands around his shoulders, swaying with him. jake was holding your waist, leaving small kisses on the top of your hair, he leaned his head down to connect his forehead against yours. he felt your tail rubbing his leg slightly, a little shocked when it circled his thigh to pull him closer, forcing your lips to meet in a kiss. jakes hands dropped lower, grabbing your hips in his hold and enjoying the slight purring bouncing around your chest when he rubbed his hands on the seam of your cloth, moving his lips fiercely against your own.

jake would do anything for you to de-stress, and if this is what it took, he wouldn't complain.

one of his hands trailed lower, a simple grip on the back of your thigh. when you playfully swatted his hand with your tail he let out a deep chuckle, seperating your lips with a smirk on his lips.

"lay down for me." it wasn't a question, and you didn't think for a second before detaching yourself from jake, laying down on the rugs and blankets displayed across the tent.

jake watched how you sat up, untying your top piece and tossing it away to the side for later. you leaned down on your forearms, legs bent, feet planted against the ground. jakes ears started immediately twitching, tail swaying excitedly. it was so easy to rile him up.

jake got down on his knees, placing soft kisses along your legs, getting closer and closer to the place you desired him the most. he took his time, if it was for his own pleasure or for the sake of teasing, you didn't know. he nipped at your soft thighs, enjoy the way your mouth dropped open, soft mewls escaping when he left small hickeys on the inside of them, claiming you, even if it was somewhere he wished no one would see them except him.

his hands found themselves untying the second piece covering you, admiring the way your cunt looked so smooth, so wet. so wet, it had him twitching under his own loincloth, he couldn't wait to devour you. it wasn't the first time he'd done this, but he still felt so giddy each time, even if what you were doing was nothing close to innocent. he wanted to be the one undressing you forever, the one to worship your body, the ground you walked on.

jake traced two fingers along your core, experimentally dipping a finger inside and feeling the way you clenched at the intrusion of his finger. he kept pushing it in, coming to a hilt and listening to your small, inaudible mumbles. he pulled it out, toying with your slit as your chest heaved slightly, heartbeat racing significantly.

"ma jake, rutxe," jake pushed a finger in, pulling it out again, and redoing the same motions. his thrusts became steady, and brought you immense pleasure. his thumb traced along your cunt, landing on your clit, rubbing slow circles around it.

it was a sight for sore eyes, your wet cunt, only for him to cherish, twitching and clenching around his fingers, sucking him in for more. you had him absolutely entranced. he would stay in this position forever if he could.

"jake, please, can you just— oh," his tongue replaced his eager thumb, licking a stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal. his thrust had picked up, adding a finger, he watched your back arch up a bit, your eyes closed from the new added pressure against your already slick walls.

jake payed close attention to the soft sighs and mewls you let out, adjusting his fingers to reach even deeper. jake felt his chin covered in your essence, and he wondered if any other man had found themselves lucky enough to be in his position. a man could only dream to find themselves between your thighs like jake is, tasting every piece of you, cherishing your body with more love than his heart could withhold.

his fingers found the spot inside of you that made your hand desperately grasp at his soft hair, the shorter strands getting caught between your fingers, pushing him closer to your heat. he let out a satisfied groan, enjoying the way you pulled on his dark locks, fingers digging into his scalp.

the thrusts of his fingers were calculated and steady. a slowly increasing pace, with a force that made your body shiver, and a hand laying hard on you hip, sure to leave a purple mark in the morning. every prod and drag had a coil tightening in the pit of your stomach, a fire growing inside of you. the soft pleas and sighs, along with the wet squelch from his constant thrusts had his dick twitching. he was so hard, he started considering rubbing himself against the rug for the slightest pleasure.

the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm washed over you. the long-awaited feeling that had you absolutely seeing stars. as cliche as it was. a hand wrapped around your wrist that was in his hair, a soft kiss was placed against your palm and then you felt the man that had spent minutes between your thighs grabbing you, pulling you up and out of your hazy state to sit in his lap.

your mouth dropped open from the overwhelming feeling of his bulge against your bare sex. quickly detaching yourself, sitting up on your knees to calm yourself down before taking it any further. jakes hand rubbed against your head, fingers tracing from the top of your head down to your neck, waiting for your body to relax.

"you good?"

"mhm, felt so good jake, you're so good," jake didn't know if you would even remember this conversation, but it still left him a little flustered. your praise always had that effect on him, his ears falling flat. jake felt your hands reaching behind him to untie the cloth covering him from you, his eyes falling shut when your smaller hand touched the tip of his dick, "so pretty."

your eyes were casted downwards, your words merely a muttering to yourself. regardless of him hearing it or not, it was true, and it left his eyes falling shut from just the smallest pressure on the slit of his tip. leaning against him, you rubbed yourself on his dick, his hands had find solace on your hips, your knees constricting against his own. your head was leaning back, jake's forehead laying on top of your chest, eyes closed in pure pleasure.

his cock bumped against your clit, leaving your mouth open in silent moans, jake striving to keep doing the same movements over and over again. you wondered how something could feel so intimate and wonderful, without even connecting queues. your hands held the sides of his throat, fingers splayed across his jaw. keeping his head bent down between your breasts, a few kisses left on your soft skin.

"can i...?" you looked down at where jake was preparing to line himself up with your slick entrance, an eager nod from you left him pushing inside slowly, a groan leaving him when your tight walls sucked him in more and more, deeper and deeper, "so tight, so good for me... oh fuck— such a good girl, taking me so well."

you barely heard the last part, his voice breaking into small pants when you moved yourself up and down on him, the back of your thighs slamming down on his with every drop of your body.

"don't hold back on me baby, i wanna hear you," with his encouragement, you let yourself be a little louder, still aware of the people around the camp, outside of the tent. jake didn't seem embarrassed at all, rather proud of having you instead, glad to let as many people as possible know that he's the only one who can have you this way. you were his. with or without the bond.

beginning to set an alright pace for yourself, you let yourself relax further into his hold, feeling every shift of him against you — inside you. the way he grabbed your hips, ragged breaths fanning across your bare chest, small kisses being placed across your breasts and nipples, rough from the night air nipping away at your damp bodies.

jakes hand found its way back between your legs, his thumb rubbing slowly against your clit, bringing the pleasure to new heights. your mewls got louder, your tail wagging behind you in sharp twists, ears flat. he knew you were close, he'd seen the sweet sight before him too many times. he glanced up at your pretty face, forehead glistening from the overhead lights, sweaty from the long session of pleasures. jake hadn't even noticed his own orgasm coming, too distracted by the way your eyes closed shut, mouth open in the sweetest form of intimacy. he wanted to hold you in his arms forever.

"ma jake," your hand drifted to grab the back of his head, soft hair back between your fingers, bringing him back to the scene, the image of his dreams playing out in front of him. you were so close, desperately wanting the man who was all around you, in you, to be with you at the finishing line, "come with me jake, please, need you jake," how could he possibly resist you? resist your pleas?

"i got you, let go for me." he held you close, thumb circling your clit with more pressure as you writhed on his lap, body falling limp against him, face tucked into his neck. the way you clenched around him had him coming seconds after yourself. hand petting your hair, words of affection all around you as his other hand traced along your spine.

he couldn't wait to have you like this forever. officially.

© 2023, spidercomics - all rights reserved.

#avatar #avatar: the way of water #atwow #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully smut #jake x reader #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar the way of water smut #jake sully x reader smut #(➹) ─── my work.

[adventuringblind]

Joint Coping

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst

Dialouge: "Help me understand."

Summary: Max helps his partners learn to cope in healthy ways

Warnings: Selh-harm, unhealthy Coping, blood, Ferrari, Max being the sane one of the group

Notes: I would like to emphasize that this is a thing that does happen. I know because I've done it. This specifically is not something to be glorified at all. Self-harm done in groups can become competitive. This is a pretty toned down version of things I've experienced and it's less toxic. THIS IS NOT REACHING OUT. Just wanted to clarify :)

This is part of my 1000 follower celebration! Requests are still open if you'd like to participate (the link will take you to the request form).

Masterlist

Max knows something is wrong with his partners. It's like an itch in his brain he can't scratch. A sixth sense, if you will.

The two Ferrari drivers are struggling with their team. Every problem is their fault. They have become the Ferrari scapegoats. When they do poor, it's the driver. When they do good, it's the team and the car.

He's coming to the end of his patience. If he has to hear them self deprecate one more time he might actually consider making them stand in the mirror and say nice things about themselves. Can he fuck it out of them? Is that a possibility? He really doesn't know but is desperate and willing to try anything.

They both DNF at the next race. Max is a man on a mission through media and debrief. He needs to see that they are okay. At the very least not sitting through some kind of lecture a parent gives to a child.

He sprints to the Ferrari garage and runs into Carlos. Despite his injury that took him out of the season, he still comes to support his team and teammates.

"Carlos!" The Spainard spins around to face him. "Have you seen-?"

"They already left over an hour ago. Did they not text you?"

There are warning bells going off inside of his head. Something is clearly wrong and they aren't telling him about it. He's about to sprint away when Carlos stops him.

"Before you go, you should that there were some awful things said by their engineers and they looked really upset about it."

"Thanks Carlos."

Max is back at the hotel as fast as he can manage. He tried both their cells with no answer. It's killing him from the inside out with anxiety. He's probably just overthinking, but it'll feel better when he sees they are okay.

He keys the door open and doesn't bother taking off his shoes. The lights are off aside from the one in the bathroom. Maybe they decided a nice relaxing bath would do the trick. Max could also go for one. He pushes that thought aside for now.

He knocks gently on the door. "You two in there?" No response. Or at least - not one to him directly. There are a few hushed whispers, but nothing loud enough for him to hear.

He waits Aproximatley ten seconds before he can't handle it anymore and swings the door open. He expects to see fogged mirror and water on the floor. Instead he's met with the sight red wrists and thighs.

He's lost. Max Verstappen has no idea what to do.

They are stripped down to undergarments. Legs dangling over the side of tub. A switchblade in the hands of Charles. They both look teary eyed and doped out. Are they enjoying this?

God, he feels so stupid. Weeks of having Sex with no lights on, sweatshirts in hot weather, no swimming and doing private ice bathes away from trainers. He should've noticed. Max could've stopped this sooner. He wants to rewind and tell them to come to him instead of relying on this to get the through.

"Guess you caught us." Charles let's out a half assed laugh. "You gonna stare at us all night? Or can we get the yelling part over with? Last three partners left us when they caught it. I understand if it's to much. Not your burden."

Max had been a later addition. The two in the bathtub had been together since their teenage years. Had they been Coping like this for so long?

"Sorry about the mess. Relapses are hard. We made it all season until a month ago." She leans her head onto Charles' shoulder. How can they make this type of environment endearing? This is unreal and they need serious help. Which Max will eventually get them when he can get his act together.

He kneels on the floor in between them. Max is just now registering the tears on his cheeks. They'd been in pain for so long. It hurts him just thinking about it.

"I'm not going to yell-" he looks at one. "-I'm not going to leave-" he looks at the other. "But help me understand. I want to help."

"It's easier to do with someone else around. It's more therapeutic." The lopsided smile on the female's face is not helping Max. He has to many questions.

First, he gets them cleaned up. Neither of them flinch when he disenfects the wounds. They don't look at him as he wraps them in whatever gauz is in the first aid kit. They look ashamed as he puts the knife in his bag and rinses the tub.

The one that gets him, however, is the look of pure confusion when Max hugs them both so tightly. It's like they don't know how to respond.

They sit in a circle on the bed. It's comfortable and Max can see both their expressions clearly.

"I know the struggle." He starts. "Punishing yourself is better then someone else doing it, right? But I had Daniel there reminding me to reach out."

"It's just easier this way."

"Easier isn't better. Look at the state you're in. I'm not leaving, but I am getting the both of you help."

He followed through with this the next morning. Then looked supposed to see him when they woke up. He, and his childish mind, kissed all the cuts and scars. Every single one of them received proper treatment.

The female cried and thre her arms around Max. Charles had looked away in shame. The reasons they started this are still foreign to him, but that's not his priority.

He gets them help. All of them, mind you. They do group sessions as the three of them to find healthier ways to cope with each other.

Reasons seem to fade into the background because they don't matter as much. The important thing is that Max caught it in time. That he didn't lose them to their own minds. They are partners, and Max would be devistated to lost someone he loves to those dark places.

He rests easier now that the itch has been scratched. His partners are doing better. They smile and laugh at his stupid jokes again. A bit of confidence regained.

And Max reminds them daily that nothing is worth it if you have to destroy yourself for it. Drivers or not, he loves them regardless.

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen fanfic #super max #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x charles leclerc #lestappen #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv33 #mv1 #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x y/n #cl16 imagine #cl16 #cl16 x reader

[wondersinwaynemanor]

here i go again with "big brother dick grayson strikes again" prompts.

thinking of Dick probably helping his siblings on their first dates and offering to take them to the location.

Dick to Jason: Hey, Little Wing. I know you can take one of your motorcycles, but let me take you. You can just focus on being pretty.

Jason: Shut up, Dick. But, are you sure? I don't know why my hands feel a bit numb-

Dick, takes Jason's hands on his to warm them up and untighten the nerves there: It's okay. I got you. You're okay. It's going to be okay. Don't stress yourself out.

Jason: I know I fucked up many times, Dick. I don't want.. I don't know what to do if I fuck this up.

Dick, brings Jason closer: Shh. You won't, Jay. You're very smart and strong, and so so caring and you don't even realize it it. Ask the kids at the Alley, they idolize you. Roy adores you and everything you do. He knows who you are. And trust me, I'm not that bitter anymore of one of my best friends dating my younger brother.

Jason smiles which warms Dick's heart, making him smile too.

Dick: Plus, we wouldn't want Ollie to think that a Wayne cannot dress up and be romantic right?

Jason grins this time.

Dick to Tim: Timmy, I have a great idea! I'll drive you there. I know you're tired from work already. Just let me know which restaurant then you can rest a bit when we travel there.

Tim: It's okay, Dick. You're also tired from your shift. I'll just let Kon know I'll be late for a few-

Dick: No, no. If you want to rest first, let him know, he'll understand. But I'll still take you.

Tim: But, Dick...

Dick: Nah-uh. I didn't drive you to prom, remember? Let me do this, Baby Bird. And for me to also look out for Lex, just in case he bothers Conner again. We don't want that happening in the middle of your date.

Tim, laughs: Well, Kon will just have to drag Lex's ass to space.

Dick laughs with him.

Dick to Cass: Aww, you look beautiful, Cass. So where you going? Where will you meet Steph?

Cass, fixing her necklace: By her house.

Dick: Great! I already know where that is. I'll drive you there. We don't want to ruin your beauty. I mean, that's totally impossible, but I want you to just relax before the date.

Cass, blushes: I can do it.

Dick: Of course, you can. But I want to. Pretty please, pretty please. I'm a little protective over my sister.

Cass, rolls her eyes fondly but smiles: Of course. Thank you.

Dick: You're most welcome. And tell Steph if she does something extreme like set some fireworks, tell her to lay off with those energy drinks she started on her diet.

Dick to Duke: Little D, Little D! Don't even try to say no cus maybe your brothers and sister have already told you, but this is kinda my tradition now. I'm taking you to your first date.

Duke: They did tell me. But, Dick.. I don't want to be a burden. Weren't you injured-

Dick: No, no. That was like last week. I'm good. As long as you're good with me to take you, right? Now, I don't want to be the burden.

Duke, smiles: Never.

Dick, smiles and gives Duke a side hug: Then you're never a burden too, Little D. A big bro has to look out for the younger ones. Plus, I can say that you dressing up nice comes from my influence.

Duke, chuckles: Who else am I looking up to, right?

Dick to Damian: Shush, Dami. I know you're dating a super, and he can come and get you without a minute to spare, but tell Jon I'll be taking you.

Damian: Richard, please. I'm already at the right age.

Dick, puts a hand on his little (not so anymore) brother's shoulder and he refuses not to tear up (he fails ofc): I know, you've grown up so much, Dami. So much, since I made you Robin. But please, it will make me really happy to do this. It will give me peace, in some way. It sounds ridiculous, but yes.

Damian, doesn't even try to hide the fond he has on his face: Alright, Richard. I'll let Jon know.

Dick: He's not taking you somewhere out of Gotham or Metropolis, right? Cus then we'll have to take the Batplane.

Damian, chuckles: It's in Metropolis, don't worry.

Dick: Phew. I was as nervous as the time I took Tim on his date.

so....

maybe after a few years on Dick and Wally's wedding day, Dick's younger siblings will be walking with him on the aisle by his side and Bruce, their Father, on his other side of course. and they're thankful that the aisle is wide enough to fit the whole Wayne kids. Dick is a crying mess and he hasn't even reached Wally yet by the end of the aisle. because he's genuinely happy to have his siblings take him to the love of his life this time.

#big brother dick grayson strikes again #my own personal tag #batfamily prompt #dc prompt #batfamily headcanons #batfamily #batman #batkids #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #duke thomas #stephanie brown #just gonna tag one ship for this #birdflash #as the rest of the ships are just mentions #dc universe

[buckets-and-trees]

Hehe I’m here with a dare 😏

So I’m such a sucker for angst but with a happy ending - I’d love to hear how you would go about writing a forced proximity meets the one that got away fic, from what I’ve read of your writing I feel like you’d really do those tropes justice

Alright, Em... let me stretch my fingers and get ready for this one...

I THOUGHT about this.

Ari Levinson

Modern AU - college and then mid-to-late-30s Ari

We're going to call this... er... maybe an "imagine-novella"? It kind of ended up being a 2500-word plot exploration. No content warnings, only some language.

You meet Ari in college. He’s tall and toned and tanned, always in a baseball cap unless forced otherwise, and he’s already sporting a full beard and looking good with it. He’s a couple of years older because he worked out of high school before for a couple of years - long enough to put enough away to pay for tuition without being a burden on his parents. When you meet him, it's when there's the huge club rush out on the quad your junior year. It's in the middle of campus in the first weeks of the semester so everyone does wander through by the nature of when and where it is. You see the table for the radio station on campus. Truthfully you don't even notice him at first. You're standing twenty feet away looking at the sign and thinking about whether or not it's worth it, maybe shake things up, you love music - you're that friend always making the playlists, discovering new songs and bands, dying to go to big music festivals, etc, and your campus has a radio station...

Someone else was talking to him as he's running that table, and they leave and then he sees you standing there, and, "Hey! You!"

It jolts you out of your thoughts and you're caught off guard for just a half a second, and go, "Me?"

He grins, "Yeah, you."

Your feet move before you even really think about it because ... that's just what you do when people call you over. It’s an instant crush for you but you try and reign it in, because he's excited that you're actually interested in the station, and you genuinely are excited about it. He's a Journalism and Communications major and the station manager, and so he gives you the pitch to come to an info meeting they're going to have, he'd love to see you there.

And you do go. Because... it doesn't matter that he's cute. The more you keep thinking about it, you decide it would actually be fun. You get a show, you make a lot of new friends with the other station people - some of them are total nerds, but they're all fun or nice or a little bit irreverent, and so station meetings once a month are fun. You're a good DJ. You have fun with your shows. Ari takes note - he appreciates it. The station is his baby. He puts everything into it. He's not outgoing, even though he's charismatic, but he can't help but gravitate to the people who really fucking love it like him. You don't get to know him super well that first year, but when it's time for him to appoint new directors to run the station the next year, he pulls you aside and says he loves what you've done with your show and wants you to think about applying for a director position.

You do. It's going to be your last year of college, the DJ gig hasn't been work, it's just been fun, and ... you love being part of the team, love to work on exciting projects, dig your hands into the dirt and make something great, so yeah. You throw your hat in the ring, because why not? And it could be an extra thing to go on your grad school applications.

Ari not only picks you for the team, he actually ends up picking you to be the director of programming, his number two, the one who oversees the DJs and putting together the roster for shows each semester. And that's what launches everything to a new level.

You lock down DJs that you want to come back the next fall, you both go away for the summer, but now you're texting somewhat regularly about ideas for the next year, things you'll work on, and the real working friendship develops. When fall semester starts and it's full speed on the ground, you and the team of directors really work to make the station great, but it's A LOT of you and Ari.

And to say he becomes one of your best friends senior year? Maybe. You tread that line because there's still that part of your heart that crushes on him, but the part that loves doing everything station and music and working on this big beast together? That's big. You let that be the focus. Because it's fun. And he's fun. And he's brilliant (like you, which is why he likes you) and ambitious (like you) and he's got this great, rich laugh that you get to hear a lot. And a lot of your other friends are busy with their senior years, too, and so are you, and so you don't mind any of the time you spend working on the station with Ari and the other directors and the DJs who are just this pack of a couple dozen people who come and go. But a lot of you and Ari.

And he doesn't date anyone. Not the entire time you know him. You heard/thought maybe there were some hook ups he indulged in during your junior year, but not that year before you both graduate. He clearly doesn't have time for a girlfriend and doesn't love anything more than the station, but you do think - just a little bit - just in the back of your head sometimes - that maybe you don't hear about him with anyone this year because... he's not going to date you - that would be unprofessional for you two and the station - but maybe it's because you are close. And maybe as you get closer to the end of the year... maybe he's going to make a move. He's always said he's already a confirmed old bachelor, but the way he smiles at you, the way he values your opinion, how often he says how amazing you are and how he appreciates you... you're going to be the girl who finally gets him.

But time is running out. And even though you both pour your hearts into the station together, there are never any late nights (those are given to studying, passing classes, etc). The last month, he says stuff like he's never going to see any of you again. Jokingly. You all laugh as directors because how could he mean it? He's made you all a family.

He makes more comments like that in the last weeks and days, and when he says he's going to shut down all of his social media, because he only had it to run and promote the station, you call him on his bullshit. And he says no. He's serious. He's going to go into journalistic photography, and he's going to create the network he needs where he needs it, but he's not playing the PR games to do it - the dream is wild nature photography, work in remote locations, never talk to humans again if he can help it. And it's so stupid. You tell Ari he's being ridiculous. He can't want to live so far off the grid.

"I'm sorry," he says, kindly but matter-of-factly. "But when we graduate, I'm never talking to any of you ever again."

You scoff. But this conversation is now just you and him in the station on a Saturday afternoon. But then you look at him for a half a second and really see his face. And you think he means it. "Ari, I did not give my fucking heart and soul into this station for the last year as your friend for you to never talk to me again. You at least owe me a lunch five years from now."

He smiles. "Okay. Maybe in five years. You find me in five years and I promise I'll take you to lunch."

And you graduate a week later, and he says goodbye, and you're not sad about it. Maybe just a bit wistful for what might have been. But after that specific "five years" conversation, you realize it was only you who was maybe a bit foolishly hopeful. He'd really never led you on. You never told him you had a crush (you had tried to keep it professional, because you did genuinely love the friendship) and he'd never given you or anyone else any illusion that he was there for anything other than working on the station and that bonding and camaraderie. If he had led you on, if there had been late nights, maybe you would've been hurt. But aside from being secretly hopeful, there really wasn't much harm done by your pining. But maybe in five years, you'll look him up for that lunch he agreed to.

He does fall off the gridl You take a busy summer job and then a paid internship in the fall, and you try and track him a bit, but you do just… get busy and move forward. You think of Ari a lot, but less and less as the time goes on. You know the name of the newspaper he was going to start off with right after graduation, and although he got rid of social media, he did have a beautiful website he set up for his photography. And you check that once in a while, but less and less. You get a fulltime job after the internship, and your life becomes even more full with the things that aren’t Ari, and sometimes you think about him, but most times you don’t.

When that five years rolls around, you start to think of him more again.

But you let it come and go.

You didn’t necessarily feel like you were living your best life, and if you were going to get one lunch to win over the one who got away and make him realize you were the love of his life… maybe you’d feel a little better – a little more accomplished, go to the gym more, be really something – in ten years.

Fleeting thought in ten years. Though you do think of him when you realize it’s that ten year mark. And you just kind of smile because ten years ago you was so wildly for him, and five years ago you was still a touch foolishly hopeful, and wouldn’t it be something if you did look him up now? But you really don’t need to anymore.

Then a couple of years later, you move to a new place, and without ever even trying, who else should somehow be living two doors down from you but Ari fucking Levinson?

And he sees you first. He’s just gotten home, opened the door from the garage into the house to be reunited with his good girl – a beautiful golden retriever who’s waited for him all day, walked with her trotting along at his side out to his mailbox, and looks down the street to see who’s just sending off the movers out of curiosity for who’s moving into the neighborhood, and he does a fucking double take because it’s you.

His god damn jaw drops and he laughs and then calls out your name.

You turn, hardly believing it but knowing that voice anywhere, and you laugh and shake your head. “Ari Levinson?”

You push the messy hair from the long day’s work of moving out of your face and are glad you’re not besotted for this man anymore, even if he does look like even more of an Adonis now, because you do know you look a mess, but you don’t even care. Having moved out of state for this dream job, you couldn’t be any more happy just to have someone from your past right at your new home base.

“’Of all the gin joints in all the towns in the world!’”

He meets you halfway, and he pauses a beat away from you because he’s not a hugger, but somehow there’s just this draw to hug you, and so he does. Only surprising to you for a second, but you’re so tired and it’s been a good day but a long day, and you were excited for this move, but you can’t deny a familiar face just feels good, so you melt into him just for the comfort of it for a moment. It’s just nice.

And when you pull back, the obedient but attentive dog draws your attention, lighting your face up with a beautiful grin. “Can I pet your dog?!”

But the two of you are already drawn to each other and bonding before he gets the, “Sure, of course,” out of his mouth.

He doesn’t wear those old baseball caps every day anymore, so he pushes his hand through his hair, and that move has practically made women drop their panties for him over the years, but you don’t even notice, too busy showering affection on his sweet golden girl while the two of you exchange the kind of words two of the oldest friends do when they haven’t seen each other in ages. Why is his chest so tight and warm all at once. Why does he have the thought cross his mind that you showing up here feels like home? Why are you falling in love with his dog and not with him? Wait, why did he think that?

This feels like a slippery slope.

But maybe he doesn’t fucking care.

When he is back inside his house, starting to pull something from the fridge to heat up for dinner, he remembers that he promised you a dinner.

It’s later than you two made the deal for, but… he’ll start there.

Just old friends who are new neighbors.

That night when he’s plugging his phone in to charge before bed, he remembers that he never did get rid of your contact in his phone. You might have the same number.

What he doesn’t know is that when he left the harbor, sure, you waited with that boat hopefully for a bit, but then you finally took your ship and sailed – everywhere really – and you may be eager to fall happily in love with his dog and genuinely grateful to know you’ll have someone in your corner on this new adventure, but you want nothing more than that good friendship in your life. He was one of your greatest friends all those years ago. But you finally got over that pining crush, and here’s no way you’ll be foolish enough to fall for him again, nor do you want to. You couldn’t ask for more than to have your old friend as your new neighbor, with his gorgeous golden retriever.

Ari does text you that night… just a welcome to the neighborhood again, and that he thinks he owes you a dinner, if he remembers correctly (he does, he’s just being casually clever), so he’s gotta take you out tomorrow night.

And it is still the same number, but you fell into the blissful rest of your bed, exhausted after move in day, so you don’t even see it that night. It will wait until you get to it in the morning.

Just like Ari will have to wait for what he wants. And work to try to even bring you around again.

Will he have waited too long and you’ll be the one who got away?

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson imagine #aspen's extended anniversary sleepover #em/writing for marvel #sleepover dare

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-six of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon takes the bag, then peeks inside it with a puzzled little frown. Tim, again, makes a note to buy him more stuff. Kon is gonna expect presents every time he sees him, by the time he’s done with him. Because Kon deserves nice things and also–well–

Well, actually . . . okay, it’s not actually going to be necessary for Tim to get Kon a present every single time he sees him, admittedly, just . . . well. He wants to, he guesses. Wants Kon to feel valued for once in his fucking life, since as far as he can tell no one has ever actually gone to any effort whatsoever to make him feel like that. Like–ever. Not even once. 

If Tim maybe spoils him a little in the process, well–that’s only balancing out the bullshit, isn’t it? 

“Oh,” Kon says, his eyes widening a little in surprise before he frowns in confusion. Tim continues to notice the eyeliner. It’s just a little bit smudged, like maybe Kon’s still learning how to do it right, and it’s also low-key triggering an emotional crisis in Tim’s entire fucking everything, to be honest. “What's . . .?” 

“I mean, it’s a couple of things?” Tim says, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward about his gifting decisions. Choices. Choicisions. “I don’t know if it’s very, uh, romantic, but . . .” 

“‘Romantic’,” Kon repeats in the exact same awkward way he did “flowers”. Tim only doesn’t curl up and die by sheer force of will. 

“Yeah,” he says. Kon stares at him for a long, intent moment, then looks back down into the bag and pulls out the fat little plastic bag of Hawaiian-import gummy candies on top of it. Tim will take any excuse to get calories into him at this point, even if it’s just candy. Chocolates probably would’ve been more date-appropriate, but when he was looking for popular Hawaiian candies, these ones kept coming up. 

“I haven’t seen this brand in months,” Kon says, looking bewildered. “I didn’t even know they sold it on the mainland.” 

“They do not,” Tim says, trying not to look embarrassed. “I ordered it online.”

And also paid for expedited shipping to make sure it’d get here on time. 

“Oh,” Kon says, his cheeks turning just a little pink as he ducks his head and smiles again. Then he glances back down into the bag with a puzzled little frown and tilts his head. “. . . is that a Switch case? What’s that for?” 

“Because there was too much packaging to make you lug around all night but putting a loose Switch in there seemed like a bad idea,” Tim replies reasonably. It’s the Lite, because he still doesn’t know if Kon has either a TV or any real space for one in his room, so Kon can’t possibly worry about it being too expensive like he did with the phones. And even if it weren’t the Lite, it’s still not the OLED, so he thinks he’s doing a great job with the self-restraint, personally. 

“You got me a Switch?” Kon says. Tim continues to not know how to explain how much money he intends to spend on him, so just shrugs.

“Just the Lite. I got you the turquoise, since it doesn't come in green. And an online subscription, so we can play together,” he says. He hasn’t dug his own Switch out in a few months–too much else to do–but he figures if doing that gets Kon to accept the gift and gets him closer to apartment/cul-de-sac territory, it’s not exactly a burden. “I wasn’t sure what kind of games you were into, so I got a few different ones. They’re all in the case, it’s got interior pockets.” 

“I–you–” Kon fumbles a little, then turns red again. “You really wanna play together?” 

Tim wants to throw a lot of people off a lot of roofs. Hard. Just so hard. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course I do.” 

Kon gets even redder and shoves the candy back in the bag, looking away. 

“Thanks. That'd be, um–cool,” he says. “Uh–ready to go?” 

“Uh, there's one more thing in there, actually,” Tim admits, a little embarrassed by said thing but also not wanting Kon to miss it and accidentally throw it away later. It's silly, but . . . he doesn't know, he'd just thought it was kind of cute or whatever. 

Maybe “cute” isn't really a Kon thing, but he seemed to like the goat okay, so . . . 

“There is?” Kon peers back into the bag, then digs in through the tissue paper with a curious frown. “What's–oh. Huh.” 

He pulls out the chunky little plastic figure at the bottom of the bag and blinks at it. It's a Superboy toy, not because Tim was deliberately looking for a Superboy toy to give him but because the coincidence when he'd tripped over it had just seemed–fortuitous, he doesn't know. 

“It's a Duplo toy,” Tim supplies. “I mean, it was licensed so I assume you got paid for it at some point, but the set it's from came out while you were off-grid and I don't know how much your manager ever kept you in the loop on those things anyway, plus you said you didn't know what Duplo even was so when I found it I figured you didn't have one. The actual set came with, like, a few different hero characters, but it's sold out and I don't think they've done another run. I just found that little guy being sold solo on eBay.” 

“You got me a toy of myself?” Kon asks, giving him a wry look. 

“Superman's looked stupid,” Tim lies, because he would sooner burn his wallet than buy Superman merch at this point, never mind that he knows the money all goes to either various accredited charities or the Justice League. “Though I guess Supergirl's or Steel's would've been okay. I don't really know how close you are to them, though.” 

“I would say ‘not at all', probably,” Kon says, turning over the toy in his hand and peering more closely at it. “‘Duplo'? So like . . . the kid toys you were talking about at the museum?” 

“Um, yeah,” Tim says. “I mean, you don't really own any childhood stuff, right, so . . . I don't know, I figured why not?” 

“You're a Gothamite, man, you should've gotten me Bat toys,” Kon says, ducking his head with another smile. “Batman wouldn’t approve.” 

“Batman's just an urban legend,” Tim pretends to believe. Kon laughs.

“Please, that's just what you guys say to cops and tourists,” he teases. 

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement,” Tim says. “Or make any comments on how incredibly inaccurate any nonspecific bat-themed superhero toys that've been commercially produced may or may not be.” 

“Oh yeah?” Kon asks, laughing again. It's that still-unfamiliar bright laugh that Robin's never gotten out of him, and Tim feels some very weird ways about it. Like. Several very weird ways. Many very weird ways. So many. 

Fuck, he's in deep here. But that's not news, so whatever. If Tim had ever once in his life gone to any effort whatsoever to avoid trouble he wouldn't be Robin and Bruce would be an even more vengeful and unhappy asshole who never talked to Dick and probably the Joker would be dead, which would admittedly be a single specific improvement but otherwise would suck. Like, really suck. 

Tim is gonna be a supervillain someday, yeah, but that's a rational decision that he's deliberately making, not a “driven by personal trauma and tragedy” grief response. And Bruce would be absolutely miserable as a supervillain, anyway, plus he'd never be able to convince Dick to go for it and then Dick would have to fight him and it'd be awful and Alfred would never make any of them post-patrol cookies again, which would immediately make this the worst possible timeline. And then someone would have to go trick the Flash into fixing it all and–look, it'd just be very complicated and unnecessary. So being Robin is just a better idea all around, really, and also saves the timeline from any speedsters happening to it. 

Again. 

“I just thought it was cute, I don’t know,” Tim says. “He’s got his little earring and leather jacket and stupid smirk, what can I say, I was endeared.” 

“‘Endeared’, huh?” Kon says with a grin, holding the little figure against his chest. 

“Oh, downright smitten,” Tim deadpans. Kon laughs again. 

“Nerd,” he says in obvious and unexpectedly fond amusement, which reminds Tim of him telling him to kiss him in the department store changing room and gives him a little bit of that whole cliché “butterflies in the stomach” rush. Or possibly batarangs, from how they feel. They might be batarangs. He forces himself to not look weird or sappy and just shrugs. 

“Maybe,” he says. “Anyway. Now I’m ready to go.” 

“Where are we going?” Kon asks curiously, and Tim smiles at him. 

“Somewhere nice, like I promised,” he says. Kon snorts, but doesn’t do anything to hide his own pleased smile. 

“Sure, whatever,” he says as he drops the Duplo figure back into the gift bag, still smiling. “Keep your secrets and lead the way, babe.” 

“I can do that,” Tim says, and then reaches out and catches Kon’s free hand to hold while they walk, lacing their fingers together. Kon turns red again and really smiles at him. His hand still feels too-soft and immeasurably strong, even though Tim knows for a fact that the TTK does more heavy lifting than Kon’s actual muscles do, or even can. No matter how the Kryptonian physiology is or isn’t coming in, the TTK is always gonna be stronger, Tim’s pretty sure. It’s not like it’s not going to get enhanced by the yellow sunlight absorption and the process of Kon’s physical maturation too, after all. 

But anyway, more importantly, he finally came up with a date idea he thinks Kon might like, so . . . 

Well, if Kon doesn’t like it, there’s backup ideas. But–he thinks Kon might like it, at least. It’s kind of weird, but so is Kon and so is he and so are their lives, and also there’ll be a gift shop to buy him stuff at. 

Tim is going to buy out that gift shop if Kon actually likes this date. 

Once Kon's done making fun of him, anyway, which he is definitely gonna do when he realizes what Tim is about to use a fake ID to do. 

. . . maybe he can just pretend to be eighteen, actually. Kon never did read that report he wrote up for him; he doesn't have any way to know how old he actually is. 

Eh, no, that's too weird and also would be annoying to remember without an associated cover. Fuck it, Tim will just live with the teasing, he guesses.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

[talkdutchtome]

Glitch- chapter five

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

series masterlist . . . available here )

The dim light in the cozy living room flickered as Y/N paced nervously. She turned to the figure on the couch, who had been quietly listening to her unravel her thoughts. "I'm sorry for coming so late, but I was just so confused. I didn't know what to do." 

The figure shifted, and a voice that was both comforting and familiar responded, "No need to apologize. Take a seat and tell me what's on your mind." 

Y/N sank into a nearby chair, her eyes searching for answers in the patterns of the rug. "It was going really well. He’s so nice, I really liked him. But then he started talking about taking me to Monaco and I panicked, I don’t even know why I..” She trailed off, unsure about how to even put into words what she was feeling. She had just ran away from a date with an incredible guy, a date that was actually going really well, and was now sat in her friend's living room at almost 11 o'clock at night. The man in front of her was patient, he let her into his home and was listening to every word she said, and that just made her feel so much worse.  

“I don’t know what to do Reece, I just ran away, he’s going to think I’m so weird. And you, we’ve only been real friends for five minutes and I’ve just turned up at your house and unloaded all of my crap onto you. Fucking hell, I’m such a mess.” 

Reece's gaze remained steady as Y/N bared her thoughts, her vulnerability evident in the dimly lit room. He listened attentively, offering a soft smile as she apologized once again. 

"Y/N, you don't have to apologize for coming here. That's what friends are for," Reece reassured her, his tone warm and understanding. "You're not a mess, and you're certainly not burdening me. I'm here for you, okay? I get why you wouldn’t want to talk to Mason about this too.”

She nodded, appreciating his kindness. "Thanks, Reece. I just don't want to mess things up. He's a great guy, and I ran away like an idiot." 

He smiled, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Look, I’m by no means an expert in this subject but from a guys perspective, maybe you should just tell him how you feel. Let him know that you like him but that you need things to go slowly. Honesty is key in these situations, and if he's as great as you say, he'll appreciate your openness." 

Y/N considered Reece's advice, a sense of clarity emerging. "You're right. I should talk to him. Thank you, Reece. I don't know what I would've done without you tonight." 

Reece chuckled softly, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "That's what friends are for, Y/N. Anytime you need someone to talk to, I'm here." 

Y/N expressed her thanks once again, her weariness evident in her grateful smile. "Thank you, Reece. I should get going." 

As she began gathering her belongings and preparing to leave, Reece, noticing the late hour and the weariness in her eyes, interjected gently. "Wait, Y/N. It's pretty late, and it's dark out. I wouldn't feel right letting you walk home alone now. Why don't you just crash here for the night? I've got a spare bedroom, and you can head out in the morning." 

Y/N's initial hesitance was palpable, her brows furrowing with concern. "Reece, I really don't want to impose on you any more than I already have." 

Reece shook his head, a warm and reassuring smile on his face. "Y/N, it's not an imposition. I'd prefer you stay here. I wouldn't feel comfortable letting you walk home alone at this hour." 

A brief moment of contemplation passed before Y/N nodded, gratitude softening her features. "Okay, thank you, Reece. I appreciate it." 

He guided her to the spare bedroom, its ambiance a mix of coziness and simplicity. He assured her to make herself at home, offering, "I've got training early tomorrow, so help yourself to anything you need in the morning. Sleep well." 

Y/N expressed her thanks once more, and as she stepped into the spare bedroom, the soft glow of a bedside lamp revealed a neatly arranged space. The comfortable bed beckoned her, and, feeling the weight of the night's emotional rollercoaster, Y/N surrendered to its embrace. 

She slipped under the covers, the softness of the pillows providing a welcomed comfort. The room held a serenity that seemed to embrace her, and as she closed her eyes, the gentle hum of Reece's home became a soothing lullaby. Sleep claimed her swiftly, offering a respite from the stress and confusion that had filled her evening. 

The morning light filtered through the curtains, gently waking Y/N as she stirred in the unfamiliar room. A soft murmur of voices reached her ears, and curiosity led her downstairs. As she descended, the voices became clearer, and she recognized Reece's calm tones along with another voice that sent a ripple of surprise through her. 

In the kitchen, Mason and Reece stood engaged in conversation, both sipping on protein shakes. Their conversation ceased as Y/N entered, her presence causing a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Mason's eyes widened in shock as he registered her appearance, and Y/N could almost see the gears turning in his mind. 

"Hey," she greeted shyly, attempting to break the tension. 

Mason, still processing the unexpected scene before him, remained silent. His attempt at maintaining composure was evident, but a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. 

Reece, sensing the need to address the unspoken tension, interjected, "Morning, Y/N. We’re just getting a drink before we head to training" 

Mason's gaze shifted between Y/N and Reece, a myriad of thoughts swirling in his mind.  

“You-” Mason tried to speak but his voice got caught. “You stayed here last night?” He questioned. It was plain to see that he was freaking out but trying his hardest to remain nonchalant. 

Y/N, catching on to the unspoken assumptions, decided to clarify before things took a turn for the worse. 

"Oh, yeah I came round to chat last night, and then when it got late Reece offered up his spare room so I didn’t have to walk home in the dark," she explained, hoping to dispel any lingering doubts. 

Reece nodded in agreement, offering a reassuring smile. "Exactly. Just a friend helping a friend out." 

The tension in the room began to ease as the truth settled. Mason, still processing the information, managed a nod. "Right, got it." 

Reece, ever attuned to the lingering awkwardness, took the initiative to break the silence. "Well, I think we should probably head to training. You're welcome to stay here for as long as you need, Y/N. There's a spare key by the door; just use that and drop it back through the letterbox when you leave." 

Y/N nodded appreciatively, "Thanks, Reece. I appreciate it." 

As Reece and Mason made their way toward the door, the air still carried a hint of unease. Mason, however, seemed to have regained some composure and, looking at Y/N, asked, "Are we still having our movie night tonight?" 

Y/N smiled, relieved that the tension was slowly dissipating. "Absolutely. Come around at 7, and we'll get started." 

With that agreement, Reece and Mason headed out the door. As it closed behind them, Y/N caught a snippet of Mason's questioning tone directed at Reece, but the words were muffled by the closing door. She sighed, hoping that the newfound understanding she and Mason had reached would withstand this unexpected morning twist. 

  As the evening approached, Y/N found herself at home, thoughts swirling in her mind like a turbulent storm. She debated whether or not to reach out to Max, her anxiety growing with each passing moment. Eventually, fueled by a desire for clarity, she decided to make the call. 

Her fingers hesitated over the keys as she dialed Max's number. The phone rang, and with each passing second, her heartbeat quickened. Then, a familiar voice on the other end said, "Hello?" 

"Hi, Max," she greeted, her voice a mix of nerves and sincerity. 

Max responded warmly, "Hey Y/N, how are you?" 

Y/N took a deep breath before launching into an explanation. "I’m good thanks, just wanted to talk about yesterday, if this isn’t a bad time?" 

Max assured her, "Not at all. Go ahead." 

So, Y/N began to share her feelings, the whirlwind of emotions that led her to retreat so abruptly. Max listened attentively, responding with understanding and empathy. "I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he apologized sincerely. 

"No, no, Max. You don't need to apologize," Y/N reassured him. "I had a lovely time, honestly. I just got a bit overwhelmed, and my instincts took over. I'd like to see you again if you're not too weirded out by my disappearing act." 

Max chuckled gently. "Not weirded out at all. I was just worried I'd done something to upset you." 

Y/N smiled, grateful for his understanding. "You didn't, at all. 

“Thats good, I meant every word I said though Y/N, I do really like you, and if taking things slow is what makes you comfortable, then I'm all for it. I just want to see you again." 

Her heart warmed at his sincerity. "Thank you, Max. I appreciate that." 

Glancing at the clock, she realized Mason would be arriving soon. "I need to get going but we should plan something soon, okay?” 

"Absolutely," Max agreed. "Let me know when you're free, and we'll figure something out." 

Mason's knock on the door echoed through the room shortly after Y/N’s call to Max had ended, she welcomed him in, and they quickly settled into their familiar routine, though there was a noticeable shift. Instead of the usual cozy closeness on a single sofa, they each took their own, creating a subtle but tangible distance. 

Somethings however, never change; because the first thing they did was begin to argue about who gets to choose the first film. Y/N was advocating for her favourite film of all time, 10 things I hate about you, whereas Mason was advocating for Fight Club. Although it only took Y/N pouting at him with puppy dog eyes on full display for Mason to quicky relent and agree to whatever she wanted. He couldn’t help but to laugh to himself at just how easily Y/N could make him do whatever she wanted. 

As the opening scenes of the movie flickered across the screen, Mason couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N across from him. The room was dimly lit by the glow of the television, and he couldn't help but be captivated by the way Y/N visibly lit up with excitement when the familiar scenes unfolded. 

He found himself watching her more than the movie itself, contemplating how effortlessly beautiful she looked in that moment. The way her eyes sparkled with genuine enthusiasm as she absorbed every detail of the film, the soft movements of her lips as she quietly mouthed along to the well-known lines, and the sweet sound of her little giggles that escaped when a particularly humorous scene played out. 

In that moment, Mason realized the beauty he had overlooked before. It wasn't just about her physical features, although he found himself drawn to the soft curves of her face and the glint in her eyes. It was the genuine joy she radiated, the infectious energy that made her all the more enchanting. Yet, as he marvelled at these revelations, an inexplicable discomfort settled in the pit of Mason's stomach. It was a perplexing sensation, an unsettling awareness that something had shifted, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what. 

Caught in his own thoughts, Mason initially didn't register Y/N's attempts to engage in conversation. It took her repeating herself for him to snap back to the present. She asked about his training with Reece, and Mason, readjusting to the conversation, he replied, "It was alright, a bit boring." 

Casually, he segued into another question, the tone of his voice crafted to sound nonchalant. "By the way, since when were you so close with Reece anyway?" The query lingered in the air, carefully casual yet edged with an underlying curiosity 

Y/N shared with Mason that when he wasn't speaking to her, Reece had been incredibly supportive, and they naturally grew closer during that time. She braced herself for any potential discomfort on Mason's part, anticipating that he might be uneasy about her forming a bond with one of his friends and teammates. However, Mason's response surprised her 

"That's good. I'm glad you had someone when I was being a dick," he stated, a touch of sincerity in his voice. "I am really sorry for that again, by the way." 

Y/N reassured him, "You don't need to keep saying sorry, Mason, but thank you." 

As the conversation continued, Mason hesitated for a moment before asking, "How did you end up at Reece's house anyway, if you were seeing Max?" There was a subtle flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, as if he was unsure whether bringing up Max was the right move. And when he caught sight of Y/N shifting uncomfortably, he realized it may have been better if he avoided the subject altogether.  

“Oh, well umm, I just panicked a bit and needed someone to talk to talk it though with.” she spoke as concern flickered in Mason's eyes, and he asked, "What made you panic?" 

She sighed, "Well, he said he wanted to take me to Monaco." 

Mason slightly raised his eyebrows, contemplating her words. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked. 

Y/N clarified, "I don’t know, it just felt like everything was moving too fast. It was a bit overwhelming." 

“I get that, how did it go other than that though, think you’ll see him again?” he asked her, trying his best to remain as casual as possible.  

Y/N's demeanor carried a vague discomfort as she began to answer his question. Her eyes shifted uneasily, and she fidgeted with a loose thread on the edge of the sofa. 

“Uh yeah, it was really nice. He took me to the nicest restaurant I have ever seen in my life, then we went to this coffee shop he likes and we got a hot chocolate, I’m not sure when but we’re definitely going to do something again soon.” 

Mason just nodded, trying desperately to make a a concerted effort to be a good friend, despite the evident unease he felt about hearing the details of her date. His expression betrayed a subtle struggle, trying to maintain a supportive facade while grappling with his own emotions beneath the surface. 

As they turned their attention back to the TV, Y/N gradually eased into the familiar comfort of her favorite film. The initial unease began to subside, replaced by the warmth that usually accompanied movie nights with Mason. They finished watching her movie and then started the one that Mason had asked for.  

As the intense scenes of Fight Club unfolded on the screen, Mason couldn't shake the desire to be closer to Y/N, like they used to be. He missed the casual intimacy they once shared during movie nights, where they would end up cuddling on the sofa, wrapped up in each other's company. However, he recognized that those moments were no longer a given. 

He silently wished they could return to the easy closeness they had before everything became complicated. Yet, Mason understood that it wasn't fair to impose their old habits on Y/N. So, he stayed in his corner of the sofa, watching the movie, trying to pretend that he didn’t want to go over and hold his best friend.  

Not 20 minutes into the movie, Mason noticed the soft and rhythmic sounds of gentle snores coming from where Y/N lay on the sofa. He couldn't help but smile; it was such a typical Y/N thing to do, to fall asleep during a movie. Deciding not to disturb her peaceful slumber, Mason quietly approached and saw that she had dozed off. 

Softly chuckling, he carefully lifted Y/N into his arms, cradling her with the same tenderness he'd always shown. In the quiet of her bedroom, he gently placed her on the bed, arranging the covers around her. It was an instinct to climb in beside her, as they'd done countless times during movie nights at her place due to her not having a spare bedroom.  

However, Mason abruptly halted, the reality settling in that those intimate moments were no longer appropriate. A wistful look crossed his face as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head and whispered, "Goodnight, Y/N," before quietly leaving her room to head home.  

Tag list-

@nightlockcornucopia @jaydensluv @girlytots19 @formula1mount @alwaysclassyeagle @aundercover @sofifiia @dessxoxsworld @lpab @lorarri @thelovehypothesis @torrie421 @ironmaiden1313 @celesteblack08 @glow-ish @urfavouritef1girly @alwaysclassyeagle @barnestatic @simxican @formula1mount @charli123456789 @mac-daddy-210 @lazybot @imguce @azxulaa @mehrmonga @sunny44 @skepvids @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @chimchimjiminie16 @tyna-19 @hoely-maria @stevesworld9 @f1lov3r @elliegrey2803 @heyyhelloohii @landosgirlxoxo @skepvids @aundercover @andydrysdalerogers @illicitverstappen @bbygrlllllll @kageyamama-hinatatata @imagandom @bibissparkles @sofifiia @dark-night-sky-99 @viennakarma @tyna-19 @wcnorris

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #football x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fics #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n

[steviewashere]

Let Me Make You Soup, Let Me Show You That I Care

(also on ao3)

wc: 4,149, Steddie Tags: Post Vecna, Post Canon, Post Season 4, Sick Steve Harrington, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Vomiting (Though Not Extreme, For I am Emetophobic), Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve's Sucky ass Parents

(Also, I hope y'all don't mind me cross-posting some of my favorite one shots that I've put up on ao3. Figured I could push them to a bigger audience, especially those who don't use ao3).

--------

Steve gets sick often. Small colds, allergies, the dreaded flu. Maybe it doesn't help him that he's had so many concussions and injuries on top of that too. Left with debilitating migraines and aching sides and muscles that become overexerted too fast.

Safe to say, his immune system is now a pile of steaming dog shit.

He's become good at attempting to "take care" of himself. With his parents being absent nearly all the time, much of the recovery process and gentle care was left to Steve. His hands don't have the same soft and slim quality as his mother's did, though. Even if she doesn't make the effort to shove his hair from his sweaty forehead or massage vapor-rub onto his chest or squeeze his shoulders as he dry-heaves into the toilet. He can miss that.

It's also safe to say that Steve Harrington, best babysitter and lesbian protector, is absolutely terrible at asking for help. His idea is, Got myself into this mess, I can get myself out. His other idea is, I don't want to burden anybody; I've been that too many times.

He suspects that's why his parents aren't there now to tuck him into bed and check his temperature and read him a bedtime story. Even though, now, he's a nineteen year old "man." More like a bruised child trapped inside the buff body of an even more injured adult, left to his own devices and decisions.

Steve is miserable today. Woke up with a knocking headache, an itch at the bottom of his throat, tingly fingers, shivering limbs, and the need to massage his abdomen to elicit the vomit to come up sooner.

It's barely nine in the morning. Just cracked his eyes open. Which, are heavy with crust and too much sleep, yet not enough.

It's barely nine in the morning and all Steve wants to do is lay stiff on his mattress, a trusty tried and true trashcan on the floor, curtains closed, a heavy duvet draped over his legs, and the A/C set to sixty-eight degrees. That's what he does. Doesn't have the appetite for breakfast or water or Tylenol. He doesn't have the energy to lay on a towel on the bathroom floor, body curled around the base of the toilet bowl. And, he doesn't have the confidence to plead with somebody over the phone to "Take care of me, just this once and I'll repay you."

He's done that before to Tommy. The bastard never showed and Steve sobbed so hard at the thought of being left alone, that he hurled right onto the beige carpet of his bedroom. That's why the desk is stuffed into the corner. To cover what he couldn't even take care of.

Steve has decided to lay in bed today. Has already used the trashcan. Kicked off the duvet then whined then brought it back to his sweat drenched t-shirt hem, then said fuck this and ripped the shirt off his body.

The silk sheets against his rapidly heating body feels nice. Like laying on the kitchen floor, Steve surmises. And that makes him think of soup.

A hot bowl of chicken noodle soup. Something he's made himself countless times before. A recipe that his mom never perfected. It's just Campbell's, the instructions are on the label, yet it was never made correctly.

She'd do that. When her motherly instincts were at an all-time high. That had to be when he was probably five? Six? His mom would make a bowl of soup so warm and soothing that she would have to warn him about touching the ceramic. She would bring him a glass of orange juice and say, ever soft and comforting, "It'll help you. Mommy promises."

The juice would sting his throat and he would cough so hard she would start to worry about doing the Heimlich maneuver.

That's what his mother's "sick care" turned into. A glass of orange juice that only hurt, never helped, just made him think about swallowing glass.

Soup turned into a heat-until-lukewarm situation. Juice wasn't bought for him. His parents elected to buy "fancy juice" instead. Another descriptor for Mommy's self-healing alcohol problem, Steve began to substitute. He remembers the last time she ever made him anything or gave a shit about his weakened body.

Steve was eleven years old.

He eventually learned where to buy the Campbell's stuff. From Mevald's. Now he keeps a hefty supply in the back of his family's pantry. Ready for a day like this.

A day where at eleven, before noon, Steve has a sudden mouth watering appetite for measly chicken noodle soup.

He hefts his body into an upright position, feet planted onto the carpet, fingers white-knuckling the edge of the mattress, a quick glance thrown at the trashcan, and a heavy breath burrowed into the stale air. Right before he scoots to stand, he hears the telltale sound of Eddie knocking on his front door. A simple three pattern.

The rapping startles Steve slightly. He forgot that Eddie was supposed to come over. I'll have to send him away, he thinks solemnly.

"Coming!" Steve croaks to the bathroom floor. With whatever strength the knocking has given him, he tucks the trashcan under his right arm, creeps to the top of the stairs, and ever so carefully floats down them.

The can is set off to the side before he opens the door.

In the glow of the daylight, energized and cheery, is Eddie Munson. Wrapped in a leather jacket, hair tied up into a bun, jeans replaced with jorts, and a grin the size of the moon.

"Hey Stevie," he drawls as his lithe frame leans against the doorjamb.

"Hey man, listen..." Steve begins before being interrupted.

"Whoa, what's going on with you?" Eddie shoves into the house. His grin is set into a small frown and his eyes are glazed with concern instead of the excited energy equal to a golden retriever. "Did you get enough sleep last night? You could've called me if you had a nightmare."

That's something him and Eddie do. When one has a god awful nightmare about floating bodies and squelching flesh and sterile hospital walls, they call each other. Sometimes to just hear that the other is alive. Other times for a trip to one another's house. The phone calls could be Eddie recapping a campaign storyline or Steve bemoaning over a wretched, hag of an old woman that demanded a refund on an R rated movie her grandson finagled her into renting. Or just breathing. Steve's fond of the soft puffs of air that signal Eddie finally relaxed enough to go back to sleep.

"No, weirdly enough I slept way longer than I was supposed to. I'm just sick today. But, I'm fine. Or at least I will be, got a good grasp on this. Y'know, trashcan, soft bed, canned soup. Was actually coming down here to send you back home," Steve rushes out. He's out of breath and feels lightheaded. The headache has turned into a pulsating mess and his stomach churns violently. Before he can warn Eddie again to go out the front door and leave him be, Steve finds himself hunched over his trashcan at the bottom of the stairs, trembling with the force of his grip. One hand on the edge of said bin. The other, wrapping tendrils of hair around his fingers and pulling with enough force to surely rip out some of his luxurious hair. Which, really, is a sweaty disgusting mop today.

He feels the hand in his hair loosen. A smaller, slightly cold hand replacing it. But this time, the fingers work carefully to sweep back any loose strands. Another hand joins the mix. This one squeezes at his right shoulder.

Eddie is behind him, whispering and shushing, "You're alright. I got you, let it out." His cold skin feels amazing over Steve's damp forehead. And equally, his touches are soothing.

Steve coughs once, twice, spits the same amount, and then leans against Eddie with a heavy sigh. "Thanks," he mutters. He shutters at being oddly exposed. Now that he's realized his torso is bare and he probably looks as awful as he feels and now all of his guts are in a bin in front of him.

The bin gets shoved over to the left and Steve starts to get up from the hardwood floor. Eddie lifts him up and leans him against his side. "How about this? I'll make you something mild, get some water into you, and divvy up a couple Tylenol tablets. Your skin is hot and not in the sexy way," he chuckles.

They make their way to the living room. Steve is deposited onto the couch with a cushion shoved behind his back and the can placed appropriately at his feet, within arm's reach. Eddie adjusts his hair again, this time with the tie from his own hair, and leaves to the kitchen.

Steve is dazed. Hot all over. Itchy in some places. Runny nose, aching stomach, watering eyes, and throat so itchy he wants to dig his fingernails into the skin on his neck. This predicament almost makes him embarrassed, more ashamed than anything. He gets his ass handed to him annually and has to have people take care of him during the concussions, until he's given the okay to go home and grovel in silence. And he puts himself in situations he can't get himself out of. He's tired of it, he realizes. Feels the need to apologize to Eddie, make him cookies or something, promise to never make him do anything like this ever again.

When said man comes back into the room with three extra-strength Tylenol in his palm and a cold glass of tap water, Steve wants to cry. It's not until Eddie is setting everything down to pet at his hair and shush him again doe he notice, he is crying.

"Sorry," Steve's voice rasps. He takes a gasping breath before choking out another nasty, wet sob.

"Nothing to be sorry for. It's what your body has to do," Eddie coos.

"No, I'm sorry you have to take care of me," he breathes. That's tally number two for decisions Steve is making today. Some miserable, lonely, somewhat pathetic decisions.

Then, Eddie pulls back. His eyes are the size of saucers. And that small frown from earlier has turned into a deep-set, terribly worrying downturn. "You don't have to apologize for that. Not at all. You need help, I'm here for you. It's what we do, okay?" he murmurs. Steve cries some more at that. Choking on his tears, practically. Enough for Eddie to say, "Hey, breathe with me. I don't want you to make yourself sick again."

So they sit for a few minutes. Breathing. Steve keeps his eyes on Eddie's mouth, watching him count. And Eddie stares at his eyes. Trying to piece together all the little details about this version of Steve. The one not picking fights and towering over unlucky underclassmen and spitting venom instead of backing away when he's supposed to. This Steve that looks like a small, terrified, lonely little boy. Who feels the need to apologize for being a human being. Somebody that makes sure everybody is better off and happy and swooned over before taking an assessment of his own body, the injuries stitched into his side, and the possibility that someone also wants to make sure he's doing alright.

God, who is Steve Harrington, Eddie questions to himself.

Once the tears have subsided and breathing has been placed under control, Steve feels exhausted. Eddie seems to notice because he suggests, "Why don't you lay down for a while? Maybe snooze some while I make soup?"

Steve nods with slight hesitancy. "Can I—" he stutters, "Can I lay down in my room?" To Eddie, this is the quietest he's ever heard his friend. And that doesn't sit right with him. A man—bulky and toned, loud and sassy, bark with no bite—now sitting with his shoulders slumped, skin blotched in various shades of pink and red, breathing ragged, and looking at Eddie with terribly timid eyes. He's just a little boy, some part of Eddie whispers.

"Yeah man. 'Course you can. How 'bout you get yourself to bed, I'll follow behind with your can, give you your medicine, and leave the door open just in case you need something?" The nod Eddie gets back is so energetic, it's as if Steve wasn't sick to begin with. That part of him that's been whispering and wondering is now aching. All he wanted was to be looked after.

Where are your parents, Eddie wants to ask aloud. Who was here to take care of you, Eddie wants to dig.

In mere moments, Steve is tucked back into bed. The curtains are drawn to be almost completely closed. His door is left unlocked and gaping. There are soft snuffles drifting through the house. And Eddie finds himself in front of the Harrington's fancy electric stove.

Before he came back downstairs to cook, Steve whispered something about there being Campbell's in the pantry. "If you want to heat it up on the stove, that's what my mama did when I was really little. It's what I do now."

Eddie glances at the cans and makes a decision for Steve, He deserves better than a piss poor attempt. Homemade it is.

When he was little, Wayne used to make soup on sick days. Still does. During the recovery time when Eddie's sides were still sore with stitches and itchy with stretch, Wayne would bring him a bowl of soup and a tall glass of orange juice on a little tray. He makes a mean bowl of tomato. "Something my mamaw taught me and now I can show you," he had told Eddie.

As much of a bare wasteland as Steve's kitchen is—What does he eat, Eddie wonders—he manages to find all the ingredients necessary. After a couple cupboards are ripped open and some miscellaneous drawers sifted through, he finds himself stirring a simmering metal pot of something he hopes Steve can keep down.

Eddie wants to chastise Steve for even thinking about being sick alone. What a misery sentence. Was probably going to call Robin and say something about, "You don't need to worry. It's not bad. I'll just be out of work for a couple days." Then he would've trekked back upstairs, slow like molasses, and locked the door behind him. Would've laid in bed shivering and crying and barfing. Probably would have passed out by the time he was finally hungry.

Steve even apologized earlier for being taken care of. As if he was a burden. Made himself smaller and tighter and quieter, that's for sure. So Eddie won't do any form of chastising. That'd only make him disappear on himself more.

As the soup is being dished up with plain toast and a cup is being filled with pulpy orange juice, Eddie hears Steve startle awake upstairs. Goes from snoring almost as loud as Wayne in the winter to dry heaving, hard.

Eddie sets the made tray down onto the counter. He makes his way back to the front door and chucks his shoes to the side and hangs up his jacket. Then, tumbles upstairs just as Steve is breathing raspy again.

One. Two. Three knocks on the open bedroom door. And in the blink of an eye, Eddie is over at Steve's side. He's crying again. Nothing like the nauseous sobs from earlier, but sniffles and silent watery blinks.

Steve's hair is pushed back again. "What's goin' on Stevie? What happened?"

"N-nothing," he spits frantically into the air. Like a kid trying to hide a lollipop behind their back. A teenager caught with a lit cigarette in hand. The family dog with a sneaker in it's mouth being told to drop it.

"Okay. Okay, I won't push. But I brought you some soup and orange juice. It's not the best because there's so much pulp in it, but it'll do for now. Oh, and—" Eddie sings. He digs around in his jorts pockets for a small container. As he brandishes it just in Steve's line of sight, he says, "Found some vapor-rub in the medicine cabinet downstairs. Now it is a few months out of date, but that just means more will need to be appl—honey, what's goin' on?" he questions softly.

Steve's sniffles have turned into thin-lipped, eyes glazed and bloodshot, muffled sobs. He has a streak of snot dripping down on his upper lip and his chest keeps stuttering. Eventually, he chokes out, "You brought the soup to me."

And what a statement.

The sentence slaps Eddie across the face, causing his head to rear back. It confuses him, that's what it does. Obviously I brought him soup, what the fuck, he asks himself incredulously.

"Wha—of course. That's what you do when somebody is sick. You help 'em out, bring soup or crackers or whatever and make sure they're better," Eddie supplies as he wipes away the sweat and snot with his banana. There's a brief moment where the only sound is Steve crying. The room is dim and he seems more comfortable than when the door was initially answered.

Eddie thinks back to the apologizing. The making himself smaller and quieter. His hesitancy about wanting to sleep in his own bed. How his mom used to make soup. And the statement, "Got a good grasp on this." Pieces start to click, sirens sound off, door number three has opened and behind it is a shiny new car.

A horrifying realization. The easy solution to Eddie's childlike curiosity over where Steve's parents are. And that in itself makes him want to hurl into the trashcan or pull full force at his hair or sob.

His parents aren't here and haven't been in a long while, Eddie accuses.

"Oh, Stevie." He pets again at his drenched hair. "I'm not going anywhere, alright? You don't have to worry about that with me. Let me do what I need to do, but I'll be right here if you need anything."

"Okay," Steve whispers.

Within just a couple minutes, Eddie has Steve propped back up on a mountain of pillows. Some from the hall closet, the stale bedroom of his parents, and the ones from his own bed. He's changed the bag in the can with a call of, "It's alright, no big deal," after Steve's cry that Eddie didn't need to do that. A bedside lamp has been turned on. An ice cold wet rag has been situated over his neck. There's a thick layer of vapor-rub in his chest hair.

Then came the aforementioned lunch. It smells divine. As if God himself started a soup kitchen in the Harrington's desolate house. What's even better is that it's definitely not chicken noodle.

"I don't remember there being any cans of tomato in the pantry," Steve notes.

"Oh, well. I thought you deserved better than that crap. Made something Wayne usually serves up. Family recipe," he sings again.

"Oh," Steve breathes. His eyes feel wet again, but he fights every part of him that says to cry. He's done enough of that. "Y'know, you didn't have to," he says quietly.

Eddie makes the wounded sound of a shot dog. He finishes setting up the tray on the stiff mattress. Then, situates himself to sit on Steve's left, rubbing down his bare back. "I wanted to. That's all that matters. Now eat up before it gets cold."

And he does just that. The bowl is hot to the touch. Its contents still fresh from being boiled. Even the gulps of orange juice don't burn as bad as when he was little. Steve feels five years old again. He's anticipating the late afternoon lunch from his mom where she'll show him vapor-rub and a spoonful of Pepto-Bismol. In the living room, she's going to lay down, with him on top, and they'll watch reruns of his favorite cartoons. The curtains are closed and she hums lullabies as he drifts off to sleep.

Eddie rubs his back and hums songs and kisses his forehead gently. Which, Steve hasn't been given that amount of affection in a long while. And he honestly doesn't mind.

There's something that's been sitting between the two of them, a thing the size of a ten pound medicine ball. A word shaped like love and comfort. The space where Eddie shares stories about Uncle Wayne and his hibernation snoring when the temperatures drop and how he acquired every single mug on their wall. And in response, Steve listens and drips a couple droplets of how his mom would read Goodnight Moon and kiss him on his cheek or on summer days where they'd splash each other in the shallow depth of the pool. Before it became a graveyard. Or the loosely sketched outline of a mom and her child. His dad wasn't as close, but he'd play catch when Steve was still learning about baseball or share facts about his car that intrigued little eight year old Steve in a way no sport has ever done before. How he acquired the bowling pin from the one time his parents took him out for his birthday. The car painting being something his dad did in his spare time, not bought from some general store in the next town over.

Even in his sick state, Steve thinks about pecking Eddie on the lips. Wonders how smooth they are. If he uses chapstick. What flavor it could be. His mind supplies days in the future where they make soup for each other and shout about how excellent Hellfire was or Lucas' basketball game had been. Mornings shaped by soft snores and gentle touches and steaming cups of coffee. Nights wrapped around each other, cooing sweet nothings when the nightmares become bloody again, and sex that's slow and drawn out. Or the quiet moments where Steve needs a shoulder to cry on. And open arms so that Eddie is encased in comfort, even after everything.

At his final spoonful and dip of toasted crust, Steve whispers, "I love you." As treacherous as his mouth has been in the past, this final decision isn't as daunting as the rest from earlier today. Some part of Steve knew that it would come to a head and the words would spill from his lips like the soup on his chin.

Eddie hums beside him. He kisses Steve one. Two. Three times on the forehead. Then he sets the tray aside with all the empty dishes and the vapor-rub with three finger divots. He strips down to his boxers and a simple t-shirt. And he tucks Steve in as he scoots on top of the duvet to hold him.

"I love you, too," he responds. "And I'll be here when you get up. So get some rest and the next time you're awake, I'll go get some new orange juice and more ingredients for tomato soup and a container of unexpired Vick's."

Steve drifts off to sleep with his body curled around Eddie's side.

In the morning, the curtains are open and soft sunlight streaks in the bedroom. Eddie has left the house to do a quick grocery run, leaving behind a note of "Just lay back and relax. I brought the phone upstairs if you want to keep yourself entertained."

He calls Robin to muse aloud how excellent Eddie is. Their dance around each other now concluded over a simple bowl of soup. How nice it is to finally get the care he wish he had when his mom started to go away. Him kissing a guy before she could kiss a girl and her shriek off, "The next time I see you, I'm gonna give you the nastiest, biggest wet willy this world has ever seen. Trust in it, Steve Harrington."

The threat isn't an empty one, but it makes Steve chuckle anyway. Even though he still feels that encroaching violent twist of his stomach and a cough that could send him flat on his ass.

And when the phone call ends and Eddie is back inside with soup being made on the stove? Steve feels like maybe it's alright to rely on his true family when the time comes. He makes a promise to himself too that he'll learn how to make the best goddamned chicken noodle soup this world has ever tasted. All so that he can dote over Eddie the same. Make sure that he really knows just how much Steve loves him.

"I love you," Eddie breaths into his tussled hair later on the couch, where they're watching cartoons.

"Love you, too," Steve slurs as his body becomes heavier with sleep.

#stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #post canon #post season 4 #angst and hurt/comfort #sick steve harrington #sick fic

[eddies-house]

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader Blurb

So this originated from this post by @uglypastels but I just wanted to start organizing my stuff because I'm def writing more and I need to have the lore and shit all in one place which is why I'm posting it here.

Basically, this is rockstar!eddie having this urgent need to spoil you, he tells you to quit your job because it's stressing you out so bad and he has the means to take care of you but you refuse. Lots of fluff, Eddie is a sweetie pie with a huge heart even after his band takes off

i can see like early on in the relationship you haven't moved in with him yet and still live in a little apartment in a shitty part of town and he swears you are the one like has never felt this way about anyone before but he really tries to refrain from suffocating you with his love because he doesn't wanna scare you away. As the relationship grows he hangs out at your apartment in the evenings when you come home from work exhausted and he just loves on you and gets you takeout cause you're so tired and life has just been stressing you out with all the bills and living paycheck to paycheck. He knows that struggle all too well from his upbringing and he can't stand seeing you suffer that way cause you're his baby and you deserve to be spoiled and treated like royalty.

You've been to his house before however you dont get to go over there a lot because of how much you're working but lets just say its fucking nice. It's not super big but its so homey and also screams eddie with the metal posters everywhere and guitars and such. He even has a little pool and a hot tub that you never get to enjoy with him because of how busy you are. He can't take it anymore, he feels like you're so beyond overworked and he will not have it.

One night you're laying in your bed with him complaining about work and all the bullshit thats been happening lately and hes just playing with your fingers, putting his rings on yours and then back on his, just back and forth fidgeting cause hes nervous to ask his question. As you're wrapping up a story from another shitty work situation you're like "that's so fucked up, right!? i've been keeping an eye out for a new job though so hopefully-" and he cuts you off cause no, you won't be getting a new job that will only stress you out, not if he can help it. "Move in with me." he says suddenly. You just turn to look at him like he's insane and before you can protest he's like "no, I'm serious. Move in with me. Let me take care of you, I can't watch you do this anymore." He's super sincere about it and his eyes are all big and pleading. You go on to tell him that you can't do that, you need to make it on your own and it lowkey turns into a fight. You're telling him that you're not going to rely on a man for your wellbeing and saying stuff like "do you think that lowly of me?!" and this is not how it was supposed to go, he just genuinely wants to see you happy and doing all the things you want to do that you never have time for because you're working.

He cups your cheeks in his hands and is like "baby, I think so highly of you, I just wanna give you the world. Please let me. Let me give you all the things I never imagined I'd ever be able to." You still get defensive about it cause he's not just asking you to move in, he's asking you to quit your job and basically run away from your current life which....that's not so bad cause your current life is shit but its also so scary because its the only normal you know so how could you just up and leave it?? You turn him down and let him know that you just can't and he respects your boundaries so after that he leaves it. He still hates how miserable you are but he still wants to be there for you as much as he can. It fucking sucks cause when your car starts acting up he just wants to take it in and get it fixed cause there would literally be no financial burden on him but for you, it would cost like months of rent. To work around it, he says he'll fix it cause he has so much experience with cars and even works on his own all the time. He has it towed to his house where he can use all his tools and stuff in his garage and while he could secretly just take it in somewhere to have it fixed, he doesn't want to upset you if you found out cause he knows you would try to pay him back and he knows you'd find a way to see how much it costs and it would just add to your stress. He doesn't mind doing it himself anyway, its therapeutic so he has it up and running again in a few days.

He loves that you're so independent but it doesn't change that he just wants to shower you with everything you could ever deserve. One day he waits for you at your apartment to come home from work, he has a key and everything and he's setting up a little after work dinner date, nothing too crazy but he brought over an expensive wine for you to try and he can't cook for shit but he's trying to learn so he makes spaghetti and meatballs for you. When you step in the door, he's all excited and running toward the door to greet you, the room actually smells really good and he even threw together some garlic bread and he's super proud of himself and he's excited to see your reaction. Only when he sees you, he stops dead in his tracks because there are tears and mascara streaming down your face and you have one of those frowns that you get when you're trying not to cry but the tears are stinging your eyes. He gathers that you cried all the way home and are trying to hold it together in front of him. He just rushes over and scoops you up to hold you on the couch in his lap and you can't contain the tears anymore, you just start sobbing into his chest while he rubs your back and soothes you. "I've got you, I'm right here." He doesn't even ask for an explanation, he's just there for you and he hopes that when you're ready, you'll tell him but if not, that's okay too.

You're still full on crying, snot and all when you pull back to tell him through a wobbling voice and sniffles "I-I can't do it anymore." And he has an idea of what you're referring to but he just nods with sympathy in his eyes. "Life sucks s-so bad. Don't wanna do it anymore." You would be hiccupping and getting yourself really worked up like almost not breathing. He would shush you gently and cradle your jaw in his hand, the tears slipping down into his hand and say "Baby, you need to breathe, okay? Gonna make yourself sick." and he would help you with little breathing exercises to kinda calm your nervous system. It would work a little but you're still super upset. He sparks an idea and if you yell at him again then so be it cause he just wants his baby to enjoy life and not come home crying more often than not. He would pull your head into his chest again and just whisper "Come live with me. Please. You can quit this job, find something new that you actually like." He tries to reason with you because he knows from last time that you would absolutely not just up and leave without any plans to help pay for things even though he won't allow it. "Eddie, I can't do that to you, I don't know how long it'll take me to find something decent." You would tell him sadly although its a much different reaction than last time because it sounds like you might be on board in some way if you could work things out how you needed. "Sweets, I can't watch you do this anymore. I'd much rather you quit and take some time to find something you actually love than stay here and be sad every day. Come stay with me, you don't even have to get rid of your apartment if you don't want to but just come stay with me and decompress. Let me spoil you a little bit while you figure it out. That's all I want." He sounds so genuine and is talking so softly its making you melt.

Eventually you work out a little deal where you'll stay at his house and search for work in the area. You use up the remaining money you have to keep paying rent on your apartment that you don't even use anymore. Secretly Eddie goes to the leasing office and pays off like a year's worth of rent and gives you your money back. "What this for?" you would ask as you looked at job listings while lounging around at his kitchen counter. He'd just shrug and kiss your cheek. "Don't worry about it." But you will most definitely worry about it. You get heated again and finally pull the information out of him and he admits that he got your money back and paid off a year for your apartment so you wouldn't have to give it up should you decide you don't want to stay with him permanently. It's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for you but you come at it raging because he shouldn't have to do this. You're trying to argue with him but he just grabs your hands calmly and is like "Listen. I had nothing growing up, I lived in a trailer park in the middle of nowhere." You're not really sure why he's going into this, you knew this from all the late night talks where you'd just lay in bed when neither of you could sleep. "I always had to decide if I wanted to eat or if I wanted to keep the lights on. And I'll be damned if I let you go through that or anything similar to that. I don't wanna spend my money on fancy designer shit or brand new cars. I want to spend it on you and making you comfortable and happy because now I can. I never thought I'd be able to do that for someone but I can now and you're my girl. Let me take care of you in the ways I never even dreamed I'd be able to take care of someone." You start crying again because what the fuck no one has ever been so sweet in your entire life and you're like what did I do to deserve this???

He's there wiping the tears away and nudging his nose against yours. You still don't want to give in but he's so damn sweet and he's being so vulnerable with you, this is something so personal to him. "I'm still getting a job and paying my half." You choke out. He just agrees because it'll make you happy but little do you know that whenever you give him any money he puts it aside in its own account for you. You end up working at a little flower shop and its beautiful, you get to be creative and you aren't stressed beyond your limits every single day. He visually sees that you're happier and you have this glow to you. One day you're both on his couch after he came home from a recording session and you worked late at the flower shop because you'd been working on some arrangements for a big event. You're both so tired and snuggly just watching some stupid movie while snacking. He's got you in between his legs and his thumb is stroking your hip, you both forget about the movie and just start talking about endless things. It comes up that you'd like to start your own little business some day, possibly your own flower shop that also sells cute little things from other small businesses (like soaps, art, etc.). Maybe even have a little coffee bar in it. He sees the way your eyes light up and he just smiles so softly down at you. He puts you both in a position where you're sitting criss cross in front of him and he's doing the same in front of you. "Let's do it then." he says like its the most obvious thing in the world. You scoff cause you don't have even a fraction of the money saved to start a business.

He pulls up a banking app on his phone and starts tapping his fingers away before setting the phone in your hands. You look at it all confused and he's just staring at you all dopey and cute but you have no idea why. He blurts out "It's yours. Every penny you've given me to cover bills. I put it away for you." You gasp when you realize how much money has built up in the account. You want to scream at him but you also know that he didn't do it against his will, he did it because he wanted to, he never does anything he doesn't want to. He's super stubborn even when it comes to his record label trying to tell him what to do. Again, the waterworks start and you collapse into him. He starts telling you "I know you don't like that I do things like this but you're my girl and I can't help it." He would press a kiss to the top of your head and you would pull back to look up at him and just grab him by his shirt so you could kiss him with so much emotion. That night you just make love to each other for hours, you can't keep your hands off each other. You don't know it but he's also planning on buying you a ring really soon and he's going to buy the one that he's seen you stare out when you've been out with him. It's a simple ring that's more dainty than anything and it doesn't even cost a lot, he just sees the way your eyes grow every time you pass that same shop and see it in the window and he knows that he's going to get it for you.

After that night you have less trouble letting him do things for you. Obviously you avoid it if you can but you don't scold him every time he slides his credit card over to pay for things or when you find out he's paid off a loan you had taken out a long time ago for that time you went to cosmetology school a few years ago that didn't end up working out. Suddenly the balance is zero and when you call to clear it up they tell you its been paid off. You make sure to give him the best head of his life but then also complain a little because you feel guilty that he took care of it. He shushes you by shoving his face in between your legs.

~end~

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #rockstar!eddiemunson #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson au

[rosazoldyckk]

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐗 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⚠️TW⚠️ Mentions of the reader thinking they are useless and unworthy, reader pretty much hating on themselves.

PS: YOU ARE WORTHY!! You are awesome asf so please don't let this fanfic trigger any negative thoughts! you are worthy, capable and fucking spectacular and pls don't forget that!! Love you sm ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

1095 words

You had no one before him. Everyone else had left you. Eventually you gave up in trying to convince them to stay. Nobody tried approaching you due to your closed off nature. No one but him. Chrollo Lucilfer, the head of the infamous phantom troupe, or Chrollo as he likes you to call him.

You knew something was off about him, but you didn't care, because he was the only one who was willing to get to know you and stayed after finding out more about you. Even if what he did was somehow considered borderline stalking. You didn't give a damn. It was nice having someone try for you, after so long of no one trying.

You don't deserve him.

Soon afterwards he convinced you to move in with him, which you agreed to. Ever since then your daily life has been confined to his estate. You didn't mind of course; you were glad someone cared enough for you. But also, guilty. He shouldn't love someone like you. Someone so horrible and disgusting. Someone who could barely do anything right.

You don't deserve him.

You wish you could do something to repay all he's done for you. But surely you would just mess it up like you do with everything else. You don't want to be more of an inconvenience than you already are. Why didn't he pick someone else? Someone much more talented or prettier than you? Surely, he could do better. It still confuses you to this day.

You don't deserve him.

You feel weak. You wanted to believe him, but you couldn't. You truly were a terrible person. But you couldn't help but continue to be suspicious of his intentions. What if he runs away from you after realising how horrible you are? What happens then? You'll have no one. You need him. You pray to all the God's imaginable that he'll never realise how ugly and useless you truly are inside. Maybe he already knows and is toying with you? Your mind keeps swirling with all these terrifying thoughts, making you want to bite your fingers off with fear in case any of it turned out to be true.

You don't deserve him.

You feel tears stream down your face. You try your best not to let out any noise. Even if no one is home. It hurts so much. Why did you have to burden everyone with your existence? The hate red you had for yourself was immense. Tears continued streaming down as you wiped your nose. You hated this. This lonely, suffocating feeling but you were always too scared to reach out. You wanted him to be here, holding you tightly in his warm embrace as he allowed you to cry into the fur of his coat, whispering sweet words of kindness into your ear. It was a selfish wish you know but you can't help it. You wanted him to bruise you with his kisses, to be lacerated open and stitched together, sharing both blood and skin. You wanted to lock your lips to his with no intention of breaking from one another. You continued crying. You longed to sink into the endless depths of hell with him if it meant you could belong to him in peace, but what God thought thought you were deserving of something so blissful?

Out of nowhere you feel a pair of familiar arms wrap around you.

"I'm sorry I took so long, my love. Now tell me, why are you crying?"

You back away, trying to escape. But his grip was firm. It felt like you would never leave his embrace.

"I don't deserve you... Why are you doing this!?"

"Hmm, because I love you. And of course, you deserve me. My standards are high, but regardless you are the one that I love."

"But I'm worthless! Someone as useless as me doesn't deserve to be worthy of your time! Please Chrollo...don't burden yourself with me..."

"I'll tell you as many times as it takes for you to believe me. You're none of these things your mind tells you. You are mine and I love you." He hugged you tighter, placing a firm kiss on your temple. "Even if others may think that. I will never. I promise."

You just sat there in his arms processing everything. You never knew how to respond to him. He's always so kind around you.

"But surely you could find someone better than me. I'm sure of it. One day you'll find someone who can give you everything I could only dream of giving to you." You sniffled, trying to hold back the tears.

"Even if I did, I would still choose you. No matter what. Because you are the one that I love."

"Are you sure? You aren't lying, are you Chrollo? Please promise me?"

"I promise you from the bottom of my heart. I would never lie to you." He paused for a second. "Come on my love, it's getting late. Let's get you to bed."

"Okay..."

He stopped hugging you and took your hand. He led you to your shared room. His hand were always so warm and comforting. He led you into bed, and you two just held each other, resting your head on the crook of his neck as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

"You are the beginning and end of who I am. You are everything I could ever care for and more. I'll rip my own veins out before I can love another. I'll praise every hair on your head, every breath you take, every glance you give my way. I'll never allow you to feel worthless again, love. You are my salvation. Your voice is my mantra, Your body is my church. I abandoned the faith of God a long time ago, but if it meant I could forever keep you close within arms reach, then I'll cry my prayers to the heavens for all to hear. Because I want you. I need you."

You really don't deserve him, but maybe for tonight you will allow yourself to believe. Allow yourself to hope that maybe you are worthy of him. Even if it's for a short time. You are at peace.

#hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x reader #hxh x y/n #hunter x hunter x y/n #yandere #yandere x darling #hunter x hunter #hxh fanfic #tw obsessive behavior #chrollo lucilfer #yandere x reader #chrollo x you #yandere chrollo #yandere hxh #chrollo x reader #chrollo x y/n #chrollo lucilfer x reader #kinda depressing #tw depressive

[jacksprostate]

me and @a-forsteri were talking about how the narrator like, desperately wants someone to tell him his life is fucked up, what he does is fucked up, he desperately wants someone to respond with the gravity he desires.

Like, he tells these people on the plane what he does. Trying to fuck with them. Desperately hoping!! One of them will go: holy shit!!! That's really fucked up how do you live with that!!! But all he gets is people thinking he's the freak and just asking what car company he works for. Because it is easier to pretend he himself is the problem, maybe just his company, rather than actually face and recognize the systemic, widespread nature of what he's saying.

It leans together with his sense of where he is in his office, too. He feels separate from all these people. They feel fake. They feel like people going on as normal even though they're all working to hasten the apocalypse, and no one acknowledges it! They're all perfectly happy to turn a blind eye to any of the distant consequences of their actions. That is what their jobs are for. Keep them up in the cubicles, nicely fed and watered with inflated salaries, and then they'll have no issue with the distant sense that they may be contributing to a corrupt system. They can't change the system, but they need to feed their kids, so hell, just don't think about it too much.

But he doesn't have that option. He is the one who actually does go out into the field and he sees the direct result of all of their collective actions, but especially his. Every crash related to a faulty part he sees is because someone like him before him, or him himself, ran the formula and let this happen. He has no choice but to see the very real result of his actions.

And he feels INSANE over it. Because he returns to the office and it's just numbers. Applying the formula. Hearing your coworkers chat about a potluck. You're not contributing to a horrific system, you ARE the horrific system, and it's like you're the only one who sees that. He literally cannot sleep over it.

And when you tell people about it, they try to minimize it. To your company, to you. Because that is easier than acknowledging just how many things have to be corrupt and uncaring of human life to allow this to be the case. It's too much. Stick your head in the sand.

He desperarely wants someone to scream at him: how could you do that? How could anyone do that? Why is this allowed to happen? Doesn't anyone see something wrong here?

He imagines his plane crashing. Free him from this. The burden of every piece of normality manufactured for satiating any thought and discomfort he has about his job. It's all petty, pointless fluff. It's putting some artificial grass on the feedlot. Why does everything and everyone say it's all worth it for this garbage?

He wants someone to tell him all this. He doesn't want to be alone. He already feels catastrophically alone. In his life, whenever he talks about this, whenever he does anything. He loves the support groups because you're allowed to have abject misery there. You rejoice in it. Everyone's life is falling apart and ending and nothing means anything good ever. They're all honest about it, too. He plays coy when he talks about his job, but these people, everyone knows they're falling apart, and it's recognized and treated as the horror it is. This is freedom. Hitting bottom is freedom.

But he's supposed to be happy, because he's got his cushy little IKEA nest. It is only when people think he also has cancer and parasites causing his deep dissociation from his own life and general aura of resentment and misery that it's treated as something that isn't just... an individual flaw. Because it's easier for there to be something wrong with him than for that thing wrong with him to be how society makes him be this way. Rewards him for it.

So he invents someone. Tyler. To stop his little dance. To interrupt him. Drag him away and tell him all those little sundries are meaningless. Like he knows. But now he has someone saying it's true. The world IS falling apart. Everything is fucked up. It's everything he knows and has been too cowardly to say and now he finally has someone to say it for him and push to make some changes in his life. To expect him to actually do something. To feel his rage for him. And it's a catch-22, because a large part of what he hates about himself is that he's too cowardly and noncommittal to just do this all on his own.

#fight club

[002yb]

Something about Dick kissing Jason for the first time, Jason's childhood crush just kissed him and his brain stop working

Convenience is the only reason why Jason stays over at Dick's apartment sometimes. It has nothing to do with how comfortable Jason finds it - homey and lived in with all of its clutter: knickknacks from travels, framed photos of friends, and hardy plants that can withstand Dick's hectic schedule and sporadically remembered watering.

There are quilts. Pillows. Added comforts for the sake of comfort and beyond necessity. It feels like a hodgepodge of decor - an atmosphere that reads of a lifetime in the circus and another in the manor; humble and extravagant and surprising no matter how often Jason has seen it at this point.

Back when Jason had first barreled through Dick's window, he thought he had the wrong place. It felt too nice for any bat-raised brat, though maybe Jason is the outlier (a compact studio that's all function over form; no valuables, no warmth; hard to trace and easily disposed of - hardly a home, but 'home' was always something foreign to him anyway). Drapes billowed around Jason from the breeze of the open window behind him and Dick stood in his kitchen, leaned against a counter while watching Jason curiously because Jason is positive he looked as lost as he felt.

He remembers the rug under his boot. Stepping back onto hardwood so he wouldn't dirty it. It's weird to him how that same rug is beneath his bare feet now, toes curling into plush softness before he brings them up onto the couch to sit cross legged. Stranger still is how some weeks ago when Jason fumbled through a demand turned request turned question: help me with a case? Dick smiled and invited him into his space and hasn't made Jason leave since: Yeah. Of course, little wing.

Not that Jason hasn't left. He only stays on an as-needed basis. For the case. Because Jason's continued presence here has nothing to do with Dick's cozy apartment or the comfortable couch Jason dozes off on multiple days of the week now. It also has nothing to do with a persistent and undying crush that has followed Jason through lifetimes.

This arrangement is strictly case-related. It's more convenient to stay. Their schedules - Dick's schedule, in particular - are hard to work around. To maximize their productivity, it makes sense that Jason be here. That aside, it's his case. Begrudging as he was to let Dick in on it, Dick has skill sets that have been invaluable towards finding a resolution (ie. Dick is a shamelessly cunning and manipulative bastard - he puts on a show well; he wears dangerous and dark well, a second skin); he's capable and lessens Jason's burden, speeding everything along by helping Jason be in multiple places at once.

It's a good partnership.

They're still in the thick of it; will be for a while, by Jason's estimate. A commitment Dick has been comfortable making because cases are less pressure than a relationship - leave him alone, damn.

Maybe it's the new single life Dick is back to that has him receptive to Jason's continued company. If whatever girlfriend was around, Jason wonders if Dick would ask him to leave - if he would leave, himself. An added bonus that Dick's company has been, at least Jason would have the apartment still.

Not that Jason is here for the apartment. Or Dick. It's a strategic base of operations, is all.

It's neither here nor there why Dick is agreeable to Jason crowding his space and cramping his style. They work, they eat, they sleep if time permits and then they do it all again. Working around Dick's day job is a pain if only because it's police work, but what's worse is that immediately after the day job comes the night job, followed by the added workload of Jason's tasks and after living staying with Dick sometimes for days at a time, well.

It stresses Jason the fuck out. He doesn't understand when Dick rests; he doesn't get how the hell Dick hasn't run himself into the ground already. Dangers of all the work Dick does aside, the pace isn't sustainable. Forget joining the ranks of the dirty thirties, Dick will find his way to an early death if he doesn't slow down. Jason has been there, done that; he can’t recommend it.

"Take the day off." Jason calls from the living room. He sits on Dick's couch, pouring over all the information and materials Dick gathered a few hours prior while Dick goes about getting ready for another day at the precinct.

He thinks he might hear a tired grunt, followed by a yawn and the sound of Dick bumping into a wall.

"Your work schedules are unreasonable." Jason complains. It's not the first time that he's done so. Unfortunately Dick is as stubborn as the rest of them - more so, arguably. And yeah, Jason can help out by cooking sometimes and having coffee ready to go, but domestic-adjacent help isn't a long term fix even if Jason did get to be domestic long term.

Dick needs to find some work-life balance.

"It's fine." Dick says, brushing off Jason's concern in a way that leaves Jason bristling. "I'll wake up in a bit."

Hardly convincing when Dick yawns for the umpteenth time in a matter of minutes.

"You'll pass out on patrol one of these days." Jason scoffs. "Just because I can carry your dead weight doesn't mean I want to."

Dick snorts from the other room. "GCPD is too high-risk to leave unchecked."

That Jason can't disagree pisses him off. Even still, he taps irritably at the laptop and glares at the screen as he grumbles, "You're overworking yourself. That's all I'm saying."

Grouchy as Jason tries to sound, Dick sees right through it to the earnestness beneath. When he walks out of his room dressed in his blues, he even looks refreshed - endeared. Oh, no.

"You're sweet, little wing."

Fuck. Jason ducks his head, lips pursed and cheeks warm. Dick shuffles about his apartment for a few minutes, drinking the coffee Jason set out before straying back to his room. Lest Jason give himself away more, he can't say anything further. He stays petulantly quiet, refocusing his attention on something that might be more productive than arguing with the wall that is Dick Grayson.

"I'll be back in the evening." Dick tells him. "We'll work more then?"

Jason grunts, sulking as he stares fixedly on the screen and the details of their case. For as strained as Dick is, the research that he's gathered for his side of things is good. Well, not good. It's terrible news, but it's insightful and damning and they can use it to their advantage.

"You might consider taking a break, too." Dick says. It does little more than earn him a withering glare, a weak snarl because the hypocrisy is truly staggering. Dick knows it, too. He snickers, hands raised in a show of placation as he relents, "Alright, alright."

"See you in a few," Dick says, checking the time on his phone before distractedly striding over to where Jason sits on the couch. If only because it's uncharacteristic and not how this routine usually goes, Jason furrows his brows, tilting his head to look at Dick and promptly going still because Dick leans down, brushing Jason's fringe back to kiss Jason's forehead before ducking out to get to work with nothing more than a 'thanks for the coffee!' tossed over his shoulder.

Jason stares after him - at the closed front door - eyes wide and thoughts so overwhelmed that his mind is blank.

What just happened?

Jason raises his hand to hold against his forehead. A blush stains his cheeks a pretty pink, then a flustered red from the tips of his ears to down his chest.

Another moment passes. Jason breaks over himself, closing the laptop and setting his work aside because fuck, that just happened. It's something easily explained away: Dick is exhausted and not thinking straight, or he got caught up in the domesticity of it all and fell back into what might have been a habit from the past. There's nothing to it, but even still Jason's heart hammers in his chest. Stuttering and skipping in time with all the butterflies in his stomach.

Stupid crushes.

The door opens again and Jason jolts to sit upright, still flushed and looking like a deer in the headlights. Dick stares after him, equally wide eyed - cheeks flushed in a way that Jason has never seen because Dick has done the impossible and managed to fluster himself.

There's no denying they're both wide awake now.

And Jason - he can play this any number of ways. A happy accident that he can shrug off to play it cool, a mistake that Jason can hold over Dick's head and torment him for, or it can be a chance. An opportunity no matter how long of a shot it is. Just the thought of it has Jason's heart skipping a beat, his breath caught in his chest; he had planned to take his undying crush with him to the grave (again), but what if...

Flirting is all plausible deniability until its not anyway, right?

"This is why you should stay home."

To kiss Jason again. To kiss Jason right.

Dick's lips quirk into something boyish and charming before he laughs, a quiet chuckle. He leans against the door frame, looking over Jason's expression, "Might kiss you again."

And - nope. It was a valiant effort but Jason is playing out of his league. Get him out. S.O.S. Abort.

Plausible deniability goes both ways and he thinks Dick might have done it better, the fucker. For the life of him Jason can't tell if Dick was making a self-deprecating joke or flirting back. It’s a critical hit either way just for the implication and Jason's heart can't handle it.

Something about Jason's expression must give him away because Dick huffs a laugh, a soft and endeared breath followed by a smile so devastating that Jason feels disarmed.

"Might let you if you do something to deserve it." Jason quips, cheeks flushed, all challenge when he says, "Like rest."

He doesn't expect Dick to call off of work, but his heart might stop when Dick does.

======

And then they sit together and work on their case until Dick passes out, head pillowed on Jason's shoulder and Jason is the blushiest of boys.

#jaydick #dickjay #dick grayson #jason todd #words #jason's first love is dick grayson #dorks in love

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: I am starting to understand writers block... How does SJM and my fellow fic writers do this! This story was just a silly little thought i had in my head and now i'm writing thousands of words about it! My brain is running empty😭 But all of your love and support has made me want to keep writing! Luckily I popped some tunes on and one of my favorite songs came on! I encourage you to play it while you read this chapter because it what inspired it(hence the title)! It's called Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson! But I have a couple of ideas to get more plot in this story, both dramatic and smut. For now just sit back and enjoy this short relaxing blerb before we start to kick the heat up a bit! LOVE YA😙

Summary: You and Lucien wake up slow and have a nice breakfast over banana pancakes.

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: the tension increases, flufffy fluff fluff, use of profanity, some typos

Word Count: ≈1,740, I’m sorry it’s not longer! I’ll make up for it later🫶

Chapter 3: "Banana Pancakes"

You were woken up by the sunlight peering in through Lucien’s bedroom window. However, you didn’t want to move. You looked up to see Lucien still peacefully asleep with his arms around you. You couldn’t help but smile at the male. His beauty was so unique compared to the others. Sure, Azriel was handsome, but Lucien was handsome in a different kind of way, and you loved him for it. After your conversations, you truly learned how much he was put through. No one recognizes his trauma or spares his problems a glance. He was put through just as much, if not more, as the others he’s surrounded by. You looked at the long scar on his face and frowned. How you wanted to take all the burdens he hides beneath the surface and put them on your shoulders. This male deserved so much better. Even after everything he has been through, he still puts himself last for anyone, especially Elain and Feyre. Hell, he was even here putting you first by offering you a comforting night. You don’t know how you survived without him as a friend the past couple of years. You are not letting him go again.  

You decided to be bold and reach out to cup his face and trace your thumb across his scar. Why couldn’t the mother have blessed you with someone as caring as him? Instead, you got Azriel who doesn't even spare you a glance. How are you supposed to feel comfortable telling him he's your mate if he won't look at you? You sigh and keep tracing Lucien's scar. Your fingers start to travel from his scar, to tracing along his jaw, and through a couple strands of hair. Your eyes follow every move your hand made. Your fingers start to move to his lips before you stop. His lips... you wondered what they would feel like against yours again.  

“Why did you stop?” You practically jump at the words as he looks up at you and smirks. 

“FUCK ME! Lucien, you scared the crap out of me! Don’t do that!” you swat his bare chest playfully, and he chuckles. Oh my god... his morning voice. The deep scratchiness of his chuckle had heat wanting to spread throughout your body. Gods you wanted to hear it again.  

“If the lady wishes, I will gladly fuck her, but how about some breakfast first?” he slowly started to get out of bed.  

Did you just hear that correctly? Was he joking or was he being serious? Before you could finish your questioning thoughts Lucien sensed your concentration on the matter. 

“Y/n I was just teasing you! Not about the breakfast part though, I am starving!”  

“Oh... okay. It just threw me through a loop for a second.” you smile as you wave your hands around.  

“my, my, my y/n... You seem a little disappointed.... OMG YOU WANT ME!” Lucien circled his finger around and booped your nose. 

“Ugh, as if!” as you got out of bed and stood next to him. You reached your arms above your head and stretched out your body from sleeping all night. “Man, that was the best sleep I have gotten in a while.” You looked up and smiled at Lucien, but his eyes were glazed over.  

While you were stretching you didn’t realize your shirt had come up a bit, giving Lucien a little show of your upper thighs. You looked at him again, “what?!” 

He shook his head, “Its nothing, I also slept soundly. Now, how about some breakfast?” and smiled at you.  

You followed Lucien to the kitchen. Eyes scanning over the muscles on his back, and gods, those slutty little gray sweatpants were not helping you stop your oogling.  

You finally reach the kitchen, and he turns around to ask, “So what are we craving this morning?” Your brain went down the gutter when he asked that question and it caused a giggle to escape your mouth. 

“What? What’s so funny about breakfast y/n? This is no joking matter!”  

“Right! Sorry... how about some pancakes and fruit?” 

“Sounds like a plan!” as he starts to grab all the ingredients and utensils you will need to make breakfast. “Would you like to cut the fruit while I start the batter?” 

“Sure!” as you grab the cutting board, knife, and a couple of fruits. You saw Lucien had picked out bananas. You start peeling all the bananas and place them on the cutting board to start cutting. As you cut the bananas you help but to snag a couple of slices. You sneak a couple more in your hand and walk over to Lucien making the batter. “Open!” you demand as you point to his mouth. He looks at you mischievously and does as he's told, never stopping his mixing of the batter. You pop a couple of banana slices in his mouth and smile at him.  

“Thank you,” he says with a mouth full of banana.  

“Chew with your mouth closed Lucien, no one wants to see that.” You laugh. He swallows and dips his finger in the batter and turns towards you. 

“Your turn!” you roll your eyes and open your mouth, only for Lucien to put it on your nose while chuckling. 

“Lucien, are you kidding me right now?!” 

“Sorry, I saw the opportunity and i took it. Here, let me help you.” he swipes the batter off your nose with his finger. You can feel his hot breath on your face, a hint of banana mixed in. “Open, for real this time. I promise.” Your brows furrow at him but you decide to trust him. You opened your mouth, and he placed the tip of his finger in letting you lick the batter off. You decided to get him back for all the teasing he’s done. You closed your eyes and moaned. Lucien’s body tensed at the sound as you sensually licked the rest of the batter off his finger and let it go with a pop.  

“That’s really good Lucien!” You smiled at him, knowing this time you were the one teasing him. You grabbed another dollop on your finger and really played up the innocence roll as you started to lick it off your own finger. Lucien’s eyes follow your every movement.  

“You are positively evil; you know that right?” he huffed and finished stirring the batter. 

“I do not know what you are talking about, I was just trying the batter...” you smirked and walked back over to finish cutting the bananas. Soon the kitchen started to smell like pancakes, and you started to realize how hungry you were. 

“Almost ready over here, did you get all the banana’s done?” Lucien asked as he flipped a pancake in the air.

“Sure did! Do you need me to do anything while you finish up flipping them?” 

“You can set the table and I'll bring everything over.” You nod at his answer and start to set the table with two pairs plates, silverware, napkins, cups, and lastly your freshly cut bananas you put in a bowl. Just as you placed the bananas, Lucien was right behind you with a stack of pancakes.  

“Oh, those look delicious! Do you have any syrup for the pancakes and juice to drink?” 

“Yeah, go look in the fridge! I'll start setting our plates.” You walk over to the fridge and open it to grab the syrup along with a bottle of apple juice. You walk back to the table, place the syrup down, and look to see Lucien had made you and him both plates. You smiled. 

“Thank you," as you decided to somewhat return the favor by filling up his glass with juice. You bend over slightly and pour the juice in his cup. Lucien's cheeks flush at the sight of you bent over, giving him a clear view of your cleavage due to how loose his shirt hung on you. He picks up his glass and takes a sip after you're done serving him.  

He coughs and says, “Thank you.” Trying to hide the ever growing blush on his face.

“You’re welcome.” You walk back to your spot across him, pour you a glass of juice, and start cutting into your food. You both sat there and enjoyed breakfast. Casually giving each other compliments about the food. You swear after this morning you had a new favorite breakfast food, banana pancakes. They will always remind you of this past night and morning with your friend. You smiled at Lucien as you both had finished. “That was lovely!” 

“Yes, it was, we should do this more often. I have missed you.” 

“Awe, ladies and gentlemales, the Lucien Vanserra missed y/n y/l/n!” 

“Way to ruin the moment y/n,” Lucien said with an eyeroll, and you chuckled. 

“You know I miss you too Lu, but I should probably get going. I’m sure mother Rhys is worried sick about me.” You laughed.  

“Most likely, here let me get you a bag for your dress and a pair of pants.” He walks away to get them for you. He comes back not a moment later with a bag and a baggy pair of old pants “Those should fit you! I believe you left them at my place a long time ago!” your cheeks burn at the thought of why you left them. One of your previous little rendezvous nights.

“Oh my god I have been looking for these for so long! Thank you.” you say as you took both items from his hands. You place your dress in the bag and walk to the bathroom to put your old pants on. You can’t believe he has kept them all this time. He could have easily tossed them out but didn't. "That's sweet of him," you thought. You walk back out and grab everything you came with and turn towards Lucien waiting for you by the door.  

“Thank you for everything you have done for me, it means a lot. I will give your shirt back the next time I see you.” You smile at him.  

“Keep it, it looks better on you anyways,” he winks, “I will see you next time then?” 

“Till next time Lu!” You smile as you give him a hug. He wraps his arms around you and places his chin on the top of your head. 

“Till next time doll!” as he places a soft kiss atop your head. You both let go and wave at each other as you make your way back to the Town House knowing an anxiety driven Rhysand and an overly excited Mor await you.  

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[isa-ghost]

Got any angsty Phil HCs?

Oh, always. =)

Definitely reread the EK possession ones bc those are full of angst.

Restate: He's used to having control. Even if just over himself, that's his normal. And that's part of why the Ender King's emergence scares him so badly. He feels like he has no control and doesn't know how to get control back. He doesn't know how to live without it. His autonomy is one of the things he values the most.

Restate: That's one of his deepest fears if it wasn't obvious. Like yeah he has basic bitch fears that most other people have like losing loved ones or w/e, but his personal Big Fear is the loss of his autonomy. It's part of why he's an anarchist & hates the Federation, another part of why being flightless is killing him inside, and part of why Ender King scares him. Especially after Rose's most recent message (1/17/24) said EK has no vessel. Phil's mind shot right to "He needs a vessel and that vessel is me. That's what he wants."

Restate: He knows he's losing touch with reality slowly. He tries really hard not to think about it, it makes him sick with dread because once again, it gnaws at his ability to control his situation or himself.

Restate: He does NOT like acknowledging that to a degree, he & Ender King DO have things in common. He constantly rationalizes it in his brain as "I have crow brain, I collect the things that look shiny & cool. Ender King is malicious, it's not the same."

Restate: I said it in a rant about Phil's characterization and I'll say it again: this man doesn't fucking realize he's flawed. Like he thinks he is but not in the way he actually is. He doesn't recognize his actual flaws as flaws. Or doesn't realize they're flaws. Or maybe is ignoring that they're flaws because he uses them to cope or something. Either way. What this man THINKS are his flaws & his actual flaws are entirely different things. In his mind his actual flaws are something he thinks are normal bc he's just Been That Way for so long.

Restate: This fucking idiot man has a detrimental habit of insisting on handling stuff like anxiety alone. He hates when people see him without his composure. It's not even like an embarrassing thing, it's just very uncomfortable to him. So when a panic attack hits or he finally concedes and let's himself cry, it's alone. And sometimes that makes it worse. But even that doesn't make him change his mind. "Keep it together for the kids," right? :')

Restate: He doesn't usually let when he isn't okay show, especially when it's a personal matter. He doesn't like burdening or worrying others. When he can help it, obviously. But he has Tells that the people closest to him (Fit, Tubbo, & Etoiles especially) can pick up on if they're vigilant enough. His feathers ruffle, he fidgets with his hands. If he's especially stressed, his wings might flap a little. He stumbles over words. Most annoying to him, he can't control the shaking of his voice. It's a dead giveaway.

Restate: He fucking HATES feeling on edge. He's extremely familiar with it, but that never dulls his hatred for the ick it gives him. That knot in his stomach, the flutter in his chest, the reeling in his mind, the fire in his nerves, the tremble in his limbs. That unshakeable feeling that no matter what or where he is, his back is vulnerable. This man wants to be Fight over Flight or Freeze EVERY time, so when he can't control the situation or can't anticipate what happens, he mcfreaks it. How can he prepare to survive when he doesn't know what to prep against? Or in the case of the Ender King business, how can he do anything to prepare against an all-powerful God?

Restate: Lowkey hates the quiet. It's nice to get out of chaotic environments for bit, but that doesn't mean the silence will grant him peace. He starts getting lost in his own head, or winds up understimulated. Music is a good buffer. Ideally though, he likes having the kids or one person to bounce off of (& keep him mentally grounded when he's stressed). It's why he adventures with Fit so often.

Restate: Speaking of silence, and calling back to fears, there's something so inexplicably uncomfortable to him about footsteps that aren't his, esp in quiet. See, the admins invisible Federation workers that just monitor things, he can usually tolerate those bc it's easy to guess when it's them he's accompanied by & not an unknown presence. But man, when he knows he should absolutely be alone atm but hears movement that isn't his own, his adrenaline shoots through the roof. (Little does he know, that's Hardcore Instincts kicking in. He's used to that movement being a mob out to kill him)

Restate: He'll go above & beyond for his friends for as long as it takes, but when a situation proves futile or hopeless, he gives up. And hates it. He feels guilty for it even when he knows there's nothing more he can do. He also HATES being helpless (it's part of why he's taking being grounded so hard).

Restate: Ever since that taste of flight in Purgatory, he's been aching so much more for it again. His stomach fills with dread at the thought of saving Tubbo's life costing him his wings. He'd make the decision he did again & 100x over, but flying is so core to who he is. He can't fathom being grounded for the rest of eternity.

Projecting here again: His anxiety is fucking visceral. He can't control the shaking of his body or his voice. He can barely form coherent words when it's at its worst. It might even make him physically sick. He can't sleep no matter how hard he tries that night, his mind won't shut down. And he can kiss his appetite goodbye for a few days. Thank god for the backpack autofeed upgrade, no one can pick up on him not eating.

Kinda related, he's had a panic attack so severe that he hyperventilated until he blacked out. It was shortly after the first time EK made contact with him. He nearly did it again after the time EK hijacked Rose's message

He holds in. So Much Rage. And probably grief. He buries it constantly because there are more important things he has to do, responsibilities he has to see to, people he has to take care of. Also he's an anarchist, he can't show that the enemy is having an impact on him emotionally. (But GODDAMN, when he finally explodes on them every now and then. There's a REASON the Feds & Purgatory workers perceive him as a massive threat).

He's hyperaware that right now, all it takes is the right tool or touch to his wings, and he'll be completely out of commission. It'd be SO easy to torture him in his current condition if the person could successfully subdue him.

Actually on that note, he has so many stress dreams about something horrible happening to his wings. Thankfully it was during the time the kids were missing so he wouldn't have to explain himself, but he woke himself up with his own screaming from a particularly vivid nightmare

Now he's getting stress dreams about Ender King possessing him. The only reason they're so sparse is because his mind seems more at ease at Rose's Sanctuary.

He's terrified to hurt anyone he cares about, but he's especially terrified that in the event Ender King DOES possess him, EK hurts Chayanne or Tallulah.

Okay but on a spicier note: Imagine a reverse of how fast he picked up on the code Chayanne & Tallulah. The kids clock right away that You Aren't Our Father & they don't even need to see his violently purple eyes to know for sure.

He is absolutely not (intentionally) self-destructive by any means, but he has tested the limits of How Immortal He Is before. I'll leave you to interpret what that means. But he's discovered he's immortal, not invulnerable. He can very much be seriously hurt. Why do you think he's so careful & over-prepared for everything?

If he's been demoralized too much for too long and no amount of resistance or fighting has resolved the situation, he'll shut down. He loses all hope. If The Angel of Death can't fix things, how the hell can Philza Minecraft do anything?

His connection to the Goddess of Death has been extremely spotty ever since he arrived on the island and it's killing him inside. He can feel that she's present with him, but they haven't been able to communicate. In months. He's been hoping a purple chest will crop up sometime with a book from her, just like Rose does with him.

I think if he were to lay out the entirety of the whole Ender King thing to someone & they hugged him about it, he'd actually cry in front of someone finally. He holds so much in about it, more than he already does. He feels so unsafe no matter what. He shoulders it alone assuming no one will understand, if they even believe him. Unconditional support is his biggest emotional weakness.

He does NOT take betrayal lightly. Purgatory didn't help with that, the only thing that's saved his friendships in that case was the awareness that This Is What The Enemy Wanted. Purely because of that, he didn't let anything the other teams pulled on Bolas get to him.

Btw he had stress dreams about being killed by his friends during Purgatory <3 He was genuinely afraid of Fit & Etoiles for a while, even a handful of time after they were back on Quesadilla Island.

If he's dissociating don't touch him. He's too easy to startle and chances are his response with be Fight. If you're gonna touch him to ground him, have a shield up. Or sharp enough reflexes to catch a fist or blade.

If he could remember his original universe (hardcore) beyond just Rose, EK & exploring, he'd be so unbearably homesick. Maybe it's better that the Feds probably altered his memories...

He has legitimate PTSD from The Nightmare, The Birdhouse, and from the eggs all going missing. You've seen the way he panics when he can't find them. Or the second he realizes he might be the only one seeing something. How A few times he's stopped and stared for a little too long at the abuelito sign. Ironically he probably couldn't put any of his triggers into words even if he tried, but it's easy to figure out the things that make him freeze or start spacing out

There are days where his wings hurt so badly that it spreads to his back. There's days he's bedridden with pain and standing is unbearable. He HATES those kinda days bc not only do they suck, he hates being cared for without being able to do much to return the gesture or show his gratitude.

He thinks about how long it'd take for those closest to him to notice something was off about him if EK possesses him way more often than is probably healthy. He can't help it. And he's a shred doubtful considering no one said anything about thinking he might be in serious trouble after The Birdhouse incident. Though.. he still isn't sure that was real to begin with.

#qsmp #qsmp philza #q!philza #philza #qphil headcanons