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gay-dorito-dust · 17 hours

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Hey um if it's cool could I request, Welt, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Gallager and Aventurine reacting to reader to questioning their interest in them?

An example: The confession

Them: I have feelings for you Reader: ... Um *shocked*.. I feel the same but.. *trails off* Them: but? Reader: *squints* you sure? About me? Please reconsider your choice. Them: ...

thank you if you decide to do this! No pressure though!

Jing yuan would raise a brow before vaguely asking you to come with him somewhere he had been meaning to show you for a while and thought that now was the perfect time.

The place where he takes you was just like any other flower garden you’ve been to before but from the way the light glinted off of the waters surface, to the way the flowers blossomed in a variety of unique colours, and other small things like that made the flower garden look ethereal.

Jing yuan chuckled at your expression.

‘You see why I brought you here?’ He asks.

‘…no, not really, why?’ You replied, looking at him in confusion.

‘I’m trying to show you that while you may not think yourself as anything special, much like this flower garden, there are a multitude of unique things tailored to you that make you shine in the eyes of the ones who views you highly.’ He responded as he lends his hand out for a bird to perch on and softly smiled as it moved up to his shoulder where it sat comfortably, trying its hardest not to fall asleep.

‘For every flower is a beauty to behold regardless of their shapes, their size or their colour that even a daffodil can be considered of equal beauty of a roses in someone’s eyes.’ Jing Yuan continues, looking at you from the corner of his eye to see whether his words were sinking in. ‘And my flower believes themself to be a withering daffodil but to me, they’re a rose unlike any other. Stubborn, strong willed, but.’

‘But?’ You echoed, nervousness creeping through your veins as Jing Yuan moved in front of you and leant forward so that he was right next to your ear.

‘But they refuse to accept words of their worth and beauty from someone who cares about them very much, but I hope to change that soon enough, if they let me.’ He whispers as he presses a kiss to your cheek and pulling away to plant a kiss to your forehead.

Dan heng

While he’s happy that you felt the same way towards him, but felt his heart sink when you told him to reconsider his feelings for you.

‘If you are not ready for a relationship, then I understand, but I wish that you wouldn’t look down upon yourself when you’re anything but what your mind is telling you that you are.’ He says as he holds your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as his eyes shone with concern. ‘Just know that I’ll always be by your side to resolve any issue you may have, for I do not wish for you to be burdened by this alone when I can help lessen it’s impact on you.’ He adds.

Dan Heng would do anything and everything in his power to make you see just how much you meant to him, even if it meant asking March to pull up pictures where his infatuation with you was glaringly obvious.

He would bring you poetry books and read out verses that perfectly describe his innermost thoughts and feelings towards you and how he views you on a daily basis. Dan Heng feels as though he could never convey just how truly unique and magnificent you were on his own. He’s tried but compared to the works of acclaimed poets, it just lacked fluidity in terms of the flow of words.

Everything else fades away when you entered his peripheral vision, almost as though he was made to notice your presence no matter where you were, only to just stare at you with a look that could only be akin to someone who had just found their other half after so long.

Welt would sit you down somewhere and want to talk about it because he truly didn’t think that these were your own words coming from your mouth.

He believes they were someone else’s and he hated that you had started believing this person’s words as reality, when they were the furthest thing from the truth in his eyes.

He wants to help you unlearn what everybody else has thought of you in the past because it doesn’t matter, their words hold no weight until you allow it to. No one’s perception of you was in any way shape or form a reflection of the real you, for every person you’ve ever had a positive effect on posses a different perceptions of you.

The only person who knew the real you was you but it was obvious to Welt that you might’ve forgotten who that version of you was by worrying yourself to death about the thoughts and opinions of everyone else. So Welt was more then happy to help you see that you were so much more then what you think.

He doesn’t know who wronged you in the past but they’ve left everlasting damage on your tender soul, but he was going to do everything he could in his power to show you the you that he sees every time upon seeing you.

Gallagher

‘I’ve got nothing to reconsider when it comes to you sweetheart.’ Gallagher was quick to tell you as he grabbed one of your hands, squeezing it. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘But-‘ you started.

‘No ifs, ands or buts.’ He interrupts you. ‘You’re prefect the way you are and I won’t hear otherwise because I’ll always go out of my way to remind you as to why i care about you, okay?’ He says as he lifted your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. ‘Just let me take care of you and get rid of those pesky thoughts residing in your head by telling them to fuck off.’

You couldn’t help but chuckle at this as you allowed yourself to find comfort in Gallagher’s side as you were greeted by his bodily warmth that made you into melting further against him. ‘I just don’t want to be a bother to you that’s all.’ You murmured, insecurity making your throat tightened, rendering it hard to swallow.

Gallagher felt his heart break for you as he brought his arms to your waist to rub soothing patterns into your side as he presses his face to the side of your head, pressed reassuring kisses there as he whispered sweet nothings as to why you were perfect, beautiful, sweet and caring of all whom you come across, whether they were deserving of it or not.

Aventurine

He understands more then you knew because the moment you admitted to liking him in the same breath as berating yourself, he was about to ask what was it about him that you liked exactly.

You were both in the same boat that was about to capsize from your shared self hatred for yourselves, but Aventurine would be damned if he let you think of yourself in any negative light when you’ve been nothing but a beacon of pure, genuine light for him since first introductions.

He’d much rather be the one drowning in self doubt than you.

He’d have you stand in front of a mirror and asks what you see.

‘Someone who’s lost themselves along the way,’ you answered solemnly, ‘someone who’s lost sight of who they once were because they were too caught up in the opinions of others and waiting on them hand and foot, only to revive nothing but scraps.’ You added and Aventurine couldn’t help but feel himself becoming infuriated, not at you but at the people who have made you feel as though you were lesser than, who made you feel as though you should be outcasted because you didn’t fit into their narrative.

However the sound of your sniffling brought him out of his need to get back at these people for you and saw that you were beginning to tear up and was quick to wipe them away before they fell. ‘Don’t weep for people who don’t have a heart, for they’ll always think themselves superior by materialistic means that they will inevitably loose to time and bad decisions.’ He tells you as he rests his head on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirrors reflective surface. ‘You on the other hand have something that they could never hope to obtain via money.’ He adds.

‘And what’s that?’ You asked, looking into his eyes and noting that despite their dullness, they were still the most beautiful and expressive pair of eyes you have ever seen.

‘Empathy, humility, compassion, kindness and an appreciation for the simple things that many overlook and possess the ability to see the beauty in broken things.’ Aventurine replies, his voice becoming soft towards the end, clearly referring to himself, as he held onto you tighter as though you’d slip from his grasp much like everyone else had. ‘So don’t compare yourself to others who should be looking towards you as an example instead.’

You moved your head to properly look at him, not use to seeing this side of him, so serious and determined to make you see reason. ‘You really mean that?’

Aventurine smiles as he kisses you on the nose, chuckling. ‘Of course! You’re my good luck charm, I’d be hopeless and in a whole lot of trouble without you.’ He says as he presses another kiss to your nose, adoring your expression as you scrunched up your face, muttering under his breath. ‘Cute.’

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jongseongsnudes · 10 hours

Text

kiss me (part three)

bff/fwb!jake. 1.4k words. ✨️smut✨️ + angst ft. lee heeseung. (part one) (part two)

“you’re so hot,” you hear him mumble into the kiss, his lips barely leaving yours as he does. his hands are everywhere, your waist, your ass, your thighs. the man was desperate for you and to be fair, you wanted him too.

what started as a few flirty kisses with heeseung and a childish way to show jake that you in fact did not need him, turned into a full fledged heated make out session in the back of the cab, all the way into your apartment. it was the last thing you wanted yet all you wanted at the same time. someone to distract you from a particular someone else.

you were too occupied with heeseung’s lips to notice the familiar pair of men’s shoes by your door once you enter your home, ones that were surely not there when you left.

jake sim was in your apartment.

“hey- h- heeseung,” you manage to get his attention, your hand now gently pushing against his chest, “i um- i remember i had some plans tonight actually... rain check?”

you can see the disappointment wash over his face for a split second before smiling again, an understanding smile. and this was one of the many things you’ve always liked about him lee heeseung. that he respected you.

“yeah of course love,” he says while rubbing your lower back, “you need me to drop you off anywhere? it’s getting pretty late.”

“no my friend will pick me up. sorry hee, another time?”

“definitely,” he leans in to kiss you, short and sweet, “be careful okay.”

you begin to second guess your decision to abruptly kick heeseung out but the last thing you wanted was to be in the middle of a confrontation between the two best friends right now. besides, you needed to deal with jake. the thought of him currently somewhere in your apartment got you mad, especially after the fight you had earlier.

the house is quiet, the only light source coming from your living room’s television screen, exactly where you expected him to be with a bottle of alcohol in his hand. you can feel your chest heave to the sight of a topless jake, it took almost everything in you not to pull your panties aside and climb on that lap.

the things you’d do for jake sim...

“seriously? you’re just going to break into my apartment?”

your words are left unanswered as the man continues watching the screen ahead as if you weren’t standing right in front of him.

“whatever then. at least close the door on your way out when you get bored.”

you leave him be, no longer wanting to deal with the toxic situation that shouldn’t have been a situation in the first place.

bits and pieces of your clothing and accessories are scattered behind as you make it to the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to sink into a warm bath and relax for the night. but of course the world always seems to have other plans for you.

“didn’t think you had it in you.”

sigh.

you don’t bother turning around to his newly arrived presence at the bathroom doorway, instead opting to continue slipping out of your undergarments as if he wasn’t even there, “i don’t want to talk to you right now jake.”

“so you let heeseung put his tongue down your throat but can’t even talk to me?”

you were quick to whip around this time, a frown dawning your face at how ridiculous he was being. the audacity this man had to even speak to you that way, in your home after ignoring you just a moment before.

“excuse me?” you were on the brink of exploding now, your hand balled up and ready to throw him out if you had to, “you broke into my house for what? to say these things to me?”

“well i’m not wrong! why bother fucking with me then go straight to heeseung?” he was now right up against you, his much taller frame towering over yours, gradually cornering you in against the vanity, “he’s my fucking best friend!”

you’ve seen jake angry numerous times before but never have you seen him like this. he is evidently fuming with eyes so dark, even his breathing was ragged.

“so that’s your problem? so you’re saying that i can fuck anyone else besides your best friend? easy. i’m sure sunghoon or jay would be down if i was to call them right now.”

if jake was considered stubborn, well, you were even worse. between you and the man, you were the one who always got your way. to be fair he did have a soft spot for you and you’ve used this to your advantage... when necessary.

the bathroom then goes eerily quiet, the two of you though still visibly angry, are now much calmer than before. the heavy tension that filled the air just a moment before was now slowly turning into a different kind of tension.

the one you always felt when you both wanted each other.

“i’m tired jake... please just go-”

he leans in without hesitation, kissing you hard and cutting off your words. he even cups your cheeks, angling your face up to him so he can deepen the kiss and you let him. by now you weren’t even fighting him anymore, your entire body melting right into his hold.

as always.

you did’t want to admit it but this kiss with jake sim was the one you’ve been yearning for all night, even when kissing someone else.

you were just crazy for him.

“it’s not them, it’s you...” he whispers, his voice barely audible as he pulls away slightly, “you’re my problem.”

“what- what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t want to see you with anyone else.”

before you could even respond, jake slowly moves down your body, his lips leaving behind a trail of soft kisses on your skin. you almost scream when he reaches your panties, the man’s mouth just hovering over it for a few moments. just to drive you insane.

“you’re perfect you know?” he coos, his hands now grasping onto your waist as yours grab onto the vanity for support.

“you say that sim... but then turn around and say the same to other girls...”

“they’re nothing baby. i’ve always wanted you.”

your breath hitches when he yanks your panties aside and lifts one of your legs over his shoulders, his lips immediately pressing onto your clit without warning, eager to have you. his wet tongue laps at your heat, tasting every part of you, causing your knees to almost buckle at the intense pleasure your whole body immediately feels from it.

you watch him through hooded eyes, the view of jake sim kneeling before you, one that always pushed you over the edge, that had you seeing white. that had you going completely feral.

but despite the moment, with his tongue deep in your folds and with your fingers knotted in his hair, you just couldn’t forget all that happened tonight.

what should’ve been a strictly no strings attached situation had become something it shouldn’t have. it all somehow spiralled out of control so quickly, like the flame in your heart that grew to the point of no return for the man.

and from what you’ve learned from romance movies your whole life... this was not going to end well. especially for you.

“ja- jake...” you barely manage to push him back by the shoulders, stopping the man from doing what those lips were literally born to do. he looks at you with concern as he stands to his feet, arms immediately holding your sides to pull you closer.

“what’s wrong baby?”

you may regret this later but you knew it was the right thing to do... before you fall even further.

“i don’t want to do this anymore jake. lets... stop.”

end(????)

2024 © jongseongsnudes on TUMBLR. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST.

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sorrowsofsilence · 3 days

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Desolate Love • N.S

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader (oneshot)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst.

Prompt: His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love; but you weren't meant to be sung for, even if you loved each other first.

Authors note: I have never written anything like this publically before, but I'm feeling a little sad and angsty lol. I hope you enjoy the words that came from my heart. (ps. I know many on the taglist are here for smut, and this isn’t smut, but I'm just re-using tags since I'm not sure who enjoys what! Pls let me know if you don't want to be tagged in all things!!)

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak @darkmxgician

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

He got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

A reminder of what once was.

A reminder of what would never be.

You wrote unspoken words in your diary, quarrels that would never be said aloud.

Words that confessed years of feelings, years of silenced affections.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours.

He consumed your mind; the way he smiled at you the day you met; his contagious laughter that danced through the walls in grandeur.

“Is this Henderson’s gym class?”

The voice behind startled you, and you turned, meeting a pair of ochre eyes. The stutter that left your lips caused your face to warm in embarrassment, as the messy brunette locks that fell across the boy’s features left you captivated.

“Yeah, I think so?” Your brows furrowed as you second-guessed yourself, even though you double-checked the classroom timetable a thousand times.

His lips spread into a dancing grin, his slight buck teeth chewing playfully on his bottom lip in shyness.

“Cool,” He stuck out his hand, long fingers wrapping around yours, “Noah.”

“Y/N,” You returned the smile, your ears heating as his October gaze never left yours.

You pulled away, briefly glancing down at his shirt, immediately excited.

“You like blink-182?”

Noah looked down at his shirt, pointing at it, “Oh yea, I fucking love them.”

He glanced up at you, fixated, “Do you?”

You nodded excitedly, “They’re probably my favourite band at the moment, other than the 1975, and Oasis, and-” you began to ramble, but stopped, afraid to embarrass yourself anymore than you felt you had.

Something flickered within his eyes at that moment; something you never noticed.

“Wonderwall?” He asked.

A song that became yours.

The burned CD he gave you collected dust in the corner of your room, aged and scratched from years of use. The disk player sat untouched, left as a painful reminder from when the tunes that played were melodies of hope; melodies of elation.

These feelings of grief consumed you, engulfing you into an overwhelming feeling of remorse.

The waves of heartbreak came and left, nostalgia shielding your anguish when memories flooded in.

No one ever filled you with such devotion and desire as he did; and throughout the naivety, you could have sworn it to be love.

It was the way Noah would shout your name from across the room when he saw you, or the way he would cover your eyes, asking you to guess who.

Every time you would laugh, placing your hands on top of his, saying you weren’t sure.

But you knew every time.

His long fingers would twirl your hair when he sat behind you in class, tugging the strands playfully before running his nails over your scalp.

“I just like your hair,” He’d say.

And whenever he picked up his guitar in the band room, he would strum the chords to your song, as if inviting you to listen to his lyrical confessions.

His texts consisted of using silly nicknames, and an overload of emojis to express his feelings. It was over the top, almost as if he was afraid he never came across as genuine enough without them.

Late night conversations went on for hours, laughing at the random stories and memories exchanged through flirtatious banter. You wanted to tell him everything about you, and learn everything about him.

You wanted to know his favourite colour, and what cologne he wore. His goals and dreams intrigued you, his fears and dislikes alluring.

You began to like the things he did, just to have something to talk about. You watched the shows he recommended and googled the things you didn’t know. Anything for him.

Noah would tell you how proud he was of you if you shared an accomplishment, or how pretty you looked when you wore your hair down.

He told you he loved your sneakers, and the way your oversized sweaters engulfed your body.

“You could wear mine,” He said, “You look good in my clothes.”

He would grab your hands, drawing silly pictures in Sharpie. It always left you frustrated when the image of an scribbled smiley face barely faded with each scrub.

But really, you would stare at it in admiration, blushing at the thought of his fingers brushing against yours.

“You like him, don’t you?” Your best friends pried, causing you to flush in embarrassment.

“He doesn’t like me like that,” You sighed, shaking your head, “We’re just friends.”

Just friends don’t play with each others hair like that.

Just friends don’t call each other pretty.

Just friends don’t text each other all night long.

“Is it easier to just pretend?”

Time went on, and your heart fluttered at every smile Noah shared with you, and at every word you exchanged.

The daily good morning and goodnight texts left you melting, succumbing your heart to his as he claimed it for his own.

Deep down, you knew he liked you more than just a friend. The way he treated you was special; there was no way that was how friends treat friends.

N: “Hey, your crush 100% likes you back.”

You: “Uhh hey? How would you know?”

N: “Well, I know who you like.”

You: “I guarantee you don’t.”

N: “Hmm, but I do? And I know he likes you back.”

You: “Sure Noah, haha. Go to bed.”

N: “I’m just saying. He likes you. Goodnight Y/N <3”

With a spiralling mind, your heart hammered.

Did he know how you felt about him? Did he just confess his feelings?

Hope.

It wasn’t until he pulled you into the storage closet a week later, that sorrow knocking down any previous signs of faith.

Torn.

“Y/N, I just wanted to talk… but I know you have feelings for me.”

His eyes bore into your own, sorrowful and sullen.

“Look,” he began, grabbing your hands in his, eyes glancing at your entwined fingers, “I- I just promised myself to someone else. My girl- ex-girlfriend, is coming here, and the reason we broke up was because I transferred.”

He began to ramble, unable to look into your eyes as he confessed his worries. Your heart began to shatter as you forced a small smile. Pulling your hands from his you placed them on his shoulders, causing him to pause.

“Noah,” You said softly, the words leaving your mouth a blatant lie, “It’s ok. I understand.“

His shoulders fell as he watched you. He brought you into a hug, squeezing you against his body, holding onto you.

Ludicrous. Empty.

You cried, your knees held to your chest in comfort as a shield from the feelings of abandonment. How could you be so naive?

You: “Just wanted to say thank you for telling me. I’m sorry if my feelings complicate things, I care about you a lot Noah.”

N: “I’m sorry, for everything. You mean a lot to me, and I care about you. ”

You: “If you knew who I liked all along… why did you say that my crush liked me back?”

It took him almost an hour to respond.

N: “Because I do like you Y/N. I like you a lot… but I promised myself to someone.”

The tears that fell from your face that night left you parched and broken, your world-shattering.

You found someone else a year later. Love that fulfilled your every need, someone to cherish you for you. It was someone who gave you everything; but your mind selfishly always wandered back to him.

You didn’t know that the day he found out you became spoken for, was the day he broke into a million pieces from a whole.

His heart was mutilated, head spinning with uncontrollable thoughts of regret.

How could he have let you slip through his fingers? All for some what-ifs?

He pretended to be happy for you.

Years passed, and you both grew. Both changed, both matured.

You got a ring, and Noah played in a band. You went to every show, you still showed up, even though you knew you were always a second choice.

He watched you the whole time as his fingers traced the strings of the guitar, and your heart yearned for him; screaming and aching and crying that you were just a body in the room.

It wasn’t until he found someone, that you told yourself it wasn’t healthy to fixate on past uncertainties.

It was rare you went to shows now. But when you did, you watched as he stood on that stage and sung; his smile brilliant and just for her.

But then you would meet his gaze, and you knew that the ochre was always for you. Forever yours.

His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love.

But you weren’t his: you weren’t mean’t to be sung for.

Some nights you called him drunk. You told him you missed him, that you wanted him to know you think about him all the time.

He told you he missed your voice, and how he wished you two still called.

He said he was happy you found someone to love you, because you deserved to be loved.

You knew he was lying.

It was the last time you talked, until you saw him sitting in the audience as you walked down the aisle, marrying a man you loved. A man who promised himself to you forever. A man who chose you first. A man who was not him.

Noah asked for your hand, he asked you for a dance. Your bodies swayed one last time in a synchronized beat, but just as friends; as desolate lovers.

You never listened to Wonderwall again.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours. You were meant to be happy now.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

A reminder of what would never be.

A reminder of what once was.

Noah got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

#sorrows of silence masterlist #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian angst #angst #sad poem #bad omens angst #angst fanfic #desolate love

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daenerysstormreborn · 2 days

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Time to ramble. I’m thinking about the way Arya and Sansa fans seem to get into this debate about who was more lonely and neglected in Winterfell. Which is kind of funny because then the arguments get totally reversed when debating other aspects of the characters. But anyway. The general arguments seem to be:

1. Arya was clearly the neglected outcast. This is clear in the meta narrative because of her connection to Jon and the fact that she doesn’t look like her true born siblings. The more direct evidence comes from the way Sansa and Jeyne teased her, the harshness of Septa Mordane, and Catelyn’s exasperation. It can be inferred that Arya feels a sense of insecurity wrt to her family ties as she wonders if her own mother would want her back after everything that happened. It can be assumed that she was a bit of an outcast based on her disinterest in the things expected of her as a girl, and we see the way many characters look down upon non-conforming women and girls in-universe. Sansa, on the other hand, receives praise from her mother and the septa and has two named close friends in Winterfell. She happily conforms to what is expected of her as a highborn girl and we can assume she would fit in in Winterfell.

2. Sansa was clearly the neglected outcast. This is clear in the meta narrative because she is the only one to lose her direwolf, which is the family symbol. The more direct evidence comes from contrast with Arya, whom Sansa observes can “make friends with anybody,” seemingly in contrast to herself. Ned agreed to kill Lady despite knowing she was innocent and indulged Arya’s interest in swordplay whilst being unenthusiastic about indulging Sansa’s interest in tourneys. Arya is demonstrated to be beloved by Ned’s men in a way we do not observe with Sansa. We can assume that Sansa didn’t feel like she belonged because of her interest in sothron culture, something none of her siblings share. Arya, on the other hand, is extroverted, makes friends easily, is northern in appearance, and has no interest in sothron culture, so we can assume she fit in in Winterfell.

I actually don’t think a lot of the points in the two arguments is mutually exclusive. We also have to remember POV bias. Arya doesn’t reflect on Any friends her age she had at Winterfell (I am not including Mycah because I am under the impression they became friends on the way to King’s Landing), but Arya is not one to reflect and reminisce. Sansa notices that Arya can make friends with anyone, but she doesn’t experience Arya’s inner world. What does Sansa mean by making friends? Does she see Arya having fun and being at ease talking to anyone and feel envy, since she herself feels like is performing, always minding her manners, when she’s socializing with most people? Could it be that Arya is friendly but struggles to find long term close friends like Jeyne and Beth, attributing this disparity to Sansa’s “ladylike” interests? Could it be that being teased by Sansa and her friends and scolded by Catelyn and Mordane has made Arya assume that other girls wouldn’t be interested in close friendship with her, causing her to be friendly but keep a certain distance? (**please note I am not trying to make a case for nlog Arya. I think keeping a distance because you assume you’ll be rejected is different and does not require that she looks down upon other girls, because there is no evidence for that here**)

I don’t have a good conclusion I just think it’s interesting that this is something that gets debated because the truth is probably somewhere in the middle. We can’t know because we get very few flashbacks and the story picks up when their normal lives in Winterfell end. I can’t speak to George’s intentions but if we pretend they’re real people I’d speculate that both would have felt misplaced within Winterfell at times, envying certain traits about the other

#asoiaf #valyrian scrolls #valyrianscrolls #arya stark #sansa stark

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hecateslore · 2 days

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☆💋

pt.1, pt.2 and pt.3 are all here! (asks are open.)

Melting played softly in the background while you put your lashes on, blinking and looking at yourself in the mirror once you finished. You phone rang, you grabbed your remote lowering the tv's volume, answering it, "Yes," You said sweetly, "I"m down the street."

You stood up, checking your window to catch a glimpse of him on his bike. "Where's the bike?" You asked biting your nail, "In the shop, It had some problems." He said, "Forgot what it's like to drive. " He let out a breathy laugh. "I bet... So do you think you can stay this weekend?" You change the subject, not really in the mood to listen about all his bike drama.

"Yeah, I have to leave for a couple on Saturday, But then I should be good." He said. You were still looking out of the window, you could see him pulling into the complex, You hummed in acknowledgement, "I'll leave the door open for you, I need to finish my makeup and then get dressed." You hang up the phone, cutting him off like you normally do.

"Here." Simon shouted from your front door, he looked around your apartment noticing how spotless it was. Simon walked down the hall to your room, catching a glance of you lining your lips in your robe. "Creep." You mumbled watching Simon from the mirror. He chuckled and walked towards you, standing behind watching your do your last touches, You lifted your head back to look at him. Simon bent his head down, catching your lips in a kiss.

"You're still not done?" His hands rubbed your shoulders while you look up at him, "I need to change." You stared at him, "You have gloss on your lips." You sat back up.

He shrugged cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand. You got dressed fixing your gloss and lip liner one more time before hitting the road with Simon. "So where are we going today?" You said from the passenger seat, "I got to make a couple of stops, then we can decide." He looked at you, You nodded.

You both pulled up in a building lot, majority of the buildings were empty, Price and Johnny outside, holding a black duffel bags and plastic bags wrapped shut with a rubber band. Johnny waved at you and you waved back, "I'll be right back," Simon pecked your cheek before getting out and talking to the men.

A couple of words exchanged before he came back in the car, "DO you want to get some food?" He asked casually, "That's fine." You mumbled, "What's wrong?" He sighed, noting your mood change, "Nothing, I'm fine." You faked a grin. Simon narrowed his eyes, before leaning in for a kiss, "Stop pouting." He popped your lip with his finger. "My lips," You swatted his hand, immediately going to check the mirror.

"Don't drop that one." You warned Simon who was holding what look like hundreds of bags filled with clothes, shoes, jewelry and random things for your house. You walked up the stairs carefully trying not to drop anything. "Let me unlock the door." You said aloud, mostly to your self. "Okay," You said quietly while opening the door. You went back to get the rest of your things.

Simon chuckled at the sight of all the boxes and bags that sat on the living room floor. "I'm gonna put all this away," You happily grabbed some bags taking them to your room.

Simon watched you walk off debating whether or not to hide one of the bags around your house for the moment. He bit the inside of his cheek in thought. "What are you doing?" You asked looking at Simon who was still standing in the middle of the room, "Was just thinking."

"Thinking about what?" You bent down to grab the last bags of clothes. "Stuff." He mumbled, "Yeah sure." You rolled your eyes, going back to your room. "Do you have to work tonight?" Simon yelled from where he was standing. "No, I took the weekend off." You yelled back.

Simon sighed, trying to figure out where he was going to store the bags, Somewhere you wouldn't notice, and how was he going to sneak them in without you knowing.

"You're still standing there?" You giggled, snapping him out of thought. "Is something wrong?" You cock a brow, "No, no." He shook his head. "I'm gonna get out of these clothes, when I come back don't be stone." You joked, Simon forced out a chuckle, that you obviously knew was a fake.

You laid on the couch Simon between your legs while you hum along to Barbara Streisand sing My Man.

oh my man, I love him so he'll never know

"How many times have you watched this?" He mumbled, voice muffled by your boobs. "Way too many." Your eyes never pulled away from the screen.

Oh, my life is just despair but I don't care

"Why's she crying?" He asked, "Simon shush." You placed you hand over his mouth. "I love this part." You mumble, "Why?" Simon whined. "Because I love this song," Simon rolled his eyes. "You just don't understand the lyricism." You pulled his hair, earning a quiet ow from him, "The lyrics are cheesy." He complained.

"It's because you've never been in love that way," You explain, "You're just shallow." You finished, Simon got up, "I'm not shallow." He said offended, "I wasn't trying to be mean," You chuckled, "but guys don't get it like women do."

"Sure. " He rolled his eyes, sitting back on the couch. "Here we go." You snorted, pausing the movie. "So now what?" You sit with your arms crossed, "Finish your movie." He says grabbing his phone. "You don't want to," You move closer to him, putting your legs over his thighs. "So when are you going tomorrow, so I can tell my other boyfriend to come over." You laughed.

"You wish you had another boyfriend." Simon teased, "I do, that way what you don't do, he will." You jested in return. "Ha, ha." Simon laughed sarcastically.

When you fell asleep Simon waited until you were deep in it, waiting for the perfect moment for him to go down stairs to grab the bags. He grabbed both of them, taking one out on your patio and hiding it in your gardening box, under all of your extra cleaning supplies. Hiding the other behind your washer and dryer.

He slipped back in bed laying next to you, "Why're you up?" You asked groggily, "I went to the bathroom." He assured you, "You smell like outside." You said mid-sleep. "I was on the patio taking a call." He lied. "Oh." You yawned. Simon kissed you forehead as you wondered back to sleep. Crossing his fingers hoping you don't find any of the bags these coming weeks.

#biker!simon #baddie!reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x you #simon riley headcanons #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost simon riley

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sjw-publishings · 3 days

Text

Hey Everyone,

I don’t tend to write these kinds of posts on my tumblr page, however I feel this is necessary.

In the event you are not aware, Dumb and Jocked, the main person I do collabs with, and also who is someone who most people might consider to be one of the backbones of the Tumblr TF community, has deactivated his account and left us last week.

Most of the people and I do not know exactly why or how this happened, but it's the reality of the situation unless he somehow does return in the future.

Some tumblrs might still have some of his stories reblogged, including mine, however some of which cannot be accessed as they are stuck at the ‘read more’ page. Notably his longer stories ‘Branded’ and both parts of the major collaboration we did together in ‘Narrow residences’.

If anyone has any of these stories saved somewhere, it would be great if you could either link it to me or post it on Tumblr.

Below will be my farewell to him, in the event he ever does somehow read it. This probably is not the best farewell letter, but it's the best I could do in such short notice and also posting it publicly. —————————————————————

Hey Dumb and Jocked,

Thanks for reading this, and I'm sad to see you go.

We’ve worked on various collabs together and it was fun throughout the years discussing various ideas here and there with you.

Unfortunately, after you left, it just feels really upsetting looking at the stuff you wrote. Even those that were saved from reblogs and reposts from other blogs. While I do want to keep them for memories and also because I did collaborate on some of them, it just feels much sadder trying to indulge in your stories or continue in sequels of it.

I was shocked that you would leave us out of the blue, however a part of me anticipated this.

I'm mostly speculating, but this is a hobby that can be rather controversial and you contributed a massive ton, likely without any compensation. You were quite private in general and talked about stories and bounced off my ideas now and then.

You sort of have a clean gateway if you decide to ever leave for good, as you probably are not really close to anyone here other than writing TF stories.

Some of us hoped that you might return, and speculated maybe it's tumblr accidentally banning you and you would get your account back, but as the days went by, it only reaffirmed that my anticipation was likely correct.

I myself mostly continued on tumblr for you, and I'm not sure if I would continue now that the main reason and person I stuck around for has left without letting any of us know. It is something I will have to decide for myself in the future.

If you ever do return to Tumblr or decide to message me privately to talk about things, that would be great. I do hope you return, even if you don’t write stories that frequently or even at all, so we could talk for a bit.

However I know that I won’t wait forever.

That’s all I will write in this letter. It was fun writing and discussing TF stories with you while it lasted.

-Sjw Publishings

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steviewashere · 21 hours

Text

Loving Who You Are, Not What You Offer

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Referenced Rape/Non-Con (Not Between Main Pairing), Panic Attack (Sort of) Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Protective Eddie Munson, Patient Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Sexual Trauma, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Slight Comphet Steve Harrington, Dialogue Heavy

Okay, honestly, this one comes from a more personal place. So I'm gonna have to ask y'all to be kind about this one. I've recently come to terms that I'm somewhere on the asexual spectrum and I just needed to apply that somewhere, so. Also, writing from Eddie's point of view rather than Steve's helps me, so I don't wanna hear shit about it.

Read the content warning one more time before you continue and let me know if I missed anything <3

🩵—————🩵 There was an uncovered layer to Steve Harrington, that much Eddie has deduced.

It’s a subtle, blink and you wouldn’t notice, kind of thing. But even this uncovered layer had layers. And he’s not sure if anybody else has caught on. He was able to catalog several odd things about Steve that just…didn’t match his character. Not at all. Which has led, though it started casually and accidentally, to Eddie making a whole new doctrine.

The Odd Steve Behavior Doctrine. With a few noticeable bullet points:

-Don’t touch him without asking -Don’t ask him about his sex life -Don’t talk about sex around him, at all -He especially doesn’t like casual intimacy -Earning Steve’s trust is like climbing up a rocky mountain

He follows these rules he’s made for himself. Tries to keep himself casual and known in Steve’s presence. And hopes that it’s enough to get Steve to crack, even the slightest. Maybe he’ll say why these things bother him, Eddie initially thought.

Maybe I’ll just keep my mouth shut and let Steve come to me in his own time, he eventually noted. Because he doesn’t need to be in everybody’s business all the time, which is a typical thing for Eddie. He likes being nosy and involved with the lives of people around him. He likes to think of himself as the person his friends can come to, no matter the reason or the intensity of their need. And maybe part of it is selfish, too. He can admit that to himself. That he, in turn, wants to be everything Steve needs at the end of the day. Bearing the brunt of all that Steve has going wrong or right in his life.

Things come to Eddie little by little from Steve’s mouth. None that answer to any of the bullets in his doctrine, but things that are important, too. Like confessions, moments that Steve saw as flaws.

“I called Jonathan Byers a queer in 1983. That’s why he beat me up. I deserved it,” he told Eddie one day. Casually, complete nonchalance, as easy as discussing the weather. Steve had been cradling a mug of coffee at their local diner. Picked at the pancake platter he ordered all for himself. And, at Eddie’s coming out (“I’m gay, Steve,” Eddie admitted quietly mere moments before. He brought up love lives. Was poking around what was going on with Steve’s. And casually, he realizes, it just came up.), Steve took a sharp inhale. Confessed this bomb of a statement. Grimaced at the memory that must’ve played out behind his eyes. Then, murmured, “But thank you for trusting me with that, Eddie. I just need you to know that I was somebody you wouldn’t before. In case that…In case maybe you wanna take back that trust. Wouldn’t blame you, that’s all I’m saying.”

Eddie sat in that for a good several moments. As they slurped at their room temperature, rather mediocre mugs of Joe. “I still trust you,” he eventually said, “You don’t have to keep proving yourself to me, you know?” Steve merely shrugged. And that was confessional number one.

Following that, Steve mentioned being tortured by Russians. Which, Eddie thought that was reason for him not liking touch. It may be part of the reason, but there was something to Steve’s eyes that told him that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Eddie didn’t ask. Steve didn’t elaborate. Tortured by Russians, beat up by his peers, chewed up like a dog toy, the list in Eddie’s mind of All the Bad Things That Happened to Steve was growing longer and longer by the day. But Steve was telling him things, letting him in. It was a start.

So, Eddie had two catalogs all about Steve to keep up with in his mind. All the Bad Things and The Do’s and Don’ts of Steve Harrington.

Being his friend was an earned thing and it was a pleasant thing, but it also broke Eddie’s heart bit by bit. He’d never admit to this, but he had to realize that at some point. He wondered if Robin ever felt the same. Maybe even Nancy. But he wasn’t going to ask. Because who asks something like that? Eddie won’t be the first, but it won’t be the last somebody thinks that, he’s sure.

Even though Steve was breaking through his own mold, cracking his mask, shattering mirrors of who he was, none of it actually answered any of Eddie’s don’ts regarding him. None of it eased him. None of it lended itself in any sort of way. If anything, all of these other greater things only added to the incessant itch that couldn’t be scratched under Eddie’s skin.

Who are you really, Steve, Eddie asked himself all too much.

He doesn’t want to upset the poor guy.

But he’ll never know, he’s coming to realize. It’s just not in the cards.

———

It comes to a head, because of course it does. And he didn’t mean for it to, but it just happens.

They’re hanging out at Steve’s new-ish apartment. Lounging around on his, frankly, ugly floral second-hand couch. It’s musty and not all that soft on the cushions, lumpy and shifting. But they make do with it as they have a movie marathon. Steve is sprawled between the far right and middle cushion, Eddie is leaning against the left arm rest, legs crossed one over the other, head in his hand. Then, his stomach grumbles all too loudly in a room full of droning noise.

He leans into Steve’s space slightly. Reaches out a hand and places it on his thigh. Squeezes Steve’s leg and opens his mouth to ask if he’s hungry. But, for some reason, Steve tenses to the extremes underneath his touch. His hands grip harshly to the back of the couch and the throw pillow near his head. Legs going taut and straining against Eddie’s touch.

“Steve?” Eddie calls softly.

“Stop,” musters from Steve. It’s tiny. Cracking in half. Brings tears to his eyes immediately.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, though. “What?” He asks. “What am I doing?” There’s a thrum in his chest. Something unsettling and obtuse. It pulsates and shifts and bitters his throat the way acidic bile does.

With force Eddie’s only seen in the Upside Down, Steve latches onto Eddie’s wrist. Tight enough that Eddie has to bite back a yelp of pure and unadulterated pain. Nearly enough to break the bone that Steve’s thumb digs into. He shoves Eddie away with just his grip. Scrambles to the far corner of the couch, legs tucked in close to his chest, knees colliding with his chin. He wraps his arms around himself.

And then, the softest noise breaks through between them. It’s quiet, yet somehow louder than the tape playing. It works its way under Eddie’s skin. Into his stomach, through his throat, and into his brain. Steve’s gentle, manufactured cries. Stifled behind his lips. In real time, Eddie watches him shatter. The way his eyes gloss over, his cheeks going splotchy with the sounds, his shoulders shake.

“Woah, hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out again. He wants to ground him. Wants to comfort the way he knows how. How he soothes Wayne’s panic episodes. And how he calms Dustin down from lashing out. Or when Robin talks herself in circles. Wants to just…be there. “Hey, Steve, are you—“

“Don’t touch me,” Steve bites out, “I don’t have anything—You—I don’t want to.”

Immediately, Eddie drops his hand to the now unoccupied middle cushion. The fabric meeting his palm. Going cold. Warm where Steve had just been relaxed. And Eddie—he may be a dastardly fool most days, dumb as rock the others, three time senior—knows exactly what he did, now that he’s focused on every small movement he makes. He’s perceptive to the way Steve is leaning as far away as possible. How crumpled he makes his body. Eddie notices how much space has been created and where his hands lie.

I’m so stupid, he thinks, that’s like rule one.

Don’t touch him without asking.

“Fuck,” Eddie softly curses. He pulls himself away. To his own corner of the sofa. And swallows the bit of panic that rises in him. His eyes drift away from Steve’s fearful face, to his own hands. Twitches them in his lap, against his knees. Wants to cut them off. Throw them into a blender. Feed them to the birds. Something. But he forces himself to look back up.

Steve trembles against the couch. In a way that is not the Steve Harrington that Eddie met when fighting other worldly creatures. That dismantles everything and anything he once knew.

“Shit. I—Steve, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “I’m sorry. I know that you don’t like that unless people ask. And I just—I wasn’t thinking, I promise. It was just—You know, I’m touchy with all my friends and I was just going to see if you wanted me to make some dinner or order some food. I was just trying to get your attention, y’know, and I didn’t mean anything by it. I promise, I swear. I swear on my mom, Steve. I would never—“ He takes a deep, gasping breath. Coughing on the inhale. His hands shake, now. And he doesn’t think he’s ever seen fear paint itself so clear and bright on a person’s face, but he’s looking into it. Steve’s pallor and yet still red cheeks. And his all consuming, though far away eyes. His built body, yet childlike hold.

A part of Eddie wants to cry, too. I’ve fucked up, he panics internally, I’ve fucked everything up and now he’s not going to be my friend and he was such a good friend, too. Why did I have to do that? I just wanted to make sure he was fed, too. That’s it. He’s such a good friend and now I’ve fucked it and I just—I—

“You wanted to make me food?” Steve quietly croaks.

Eddie, in an instant, nods. “Yes!” He exclaims in his own panic. “Yes, I swear, Steve. I wasn’t thinking when I touched your thigh. And I—What do you want to eat, Stevie? Say the word, I’ll find a way to make it or…something.”

His hands twitch in his lap once more. Thumbs catching on the ripped holes of his jeans. The threads soft and wearing away under his skin. The scratchy, dry bit of skin that peers through. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t think he breathes. Just makes eye contact with Steve. Which, surely, is overbearing and unnecessary and…I’m probably freaking him out more, calm down. He takes a deep breath, blows it away from him, and lowers his shoulders from where he didn’t know they were hiking.

“It was nothing more than to check-in. I promise,” he reiterates, murmuring.

Steve, finally, draws away from himself. With his own breath. He unravels his legs, stretching them out to their full length onto the middle cushion. Arms going limp at his sides. Hands resting against his thighs. His eyes dart—left and right and left and right—between Eddie’s. Nods once. “Okay,” he meekly musters. “Okay, Eds. Can…We can order pizza. There should be a menu on the kitchen counter. I’ll—“

Eddie stands from his own cushion before Steve gets the chance to. “Nope, don’t worry about it. Just try and relax, yeah? I’ll go put in an order, pay for it. You…Pepperoni pizza?” Steve just nods, tentative and surprised. “Cool,” Eddie states, “I’ll be right back.”

The phone call goes by quick and he easily sets the money out for when the driver gets there. But he’s not entirely sure his presence is going to be a warm welcome in the living room again. He gets a glass of water anyway because, surely, Steve will tell him to go if he isn’t wanted.

Steve’s in the same position as when Eddie left. Though, his gaze isn’t entirely there. Somewhere beyond Eddie’s shoulder. But there’s a gleam, a little shine that tells him that Steve isn’t gone from himself, not yet at least. He sits back down in his own cushion. Glass on the coffee table. And turns, keeping himself tight to his own body.

“Hey, Steve?” He calls out, watching as Steve blinks sluggishly back into his body. “I—uh—I got you some water, if you want it. Drinking water usually helps me feel better after…After a down moment, y’know?”

Next to him, Steve hums. He sighs. “Can I trust you with something?” He asks, forgoing the water entirely.

Eddie nods in haste. “Of course, Steve. If you have something you have to tell me, I can keep things to myself,” he states. Which is one hundred percent true. He may be a loud guy, screaming and yelling when need be. May be somebody that fills a room with noise, if only so he doesn’t succumb to the silence. But he knows how to keep a secret. It’s sort of a survival tactic, is what he’d say if somebody asked him about it. He’s kept secrets about his parents, things behind lock and key in his ribcage. Granted, he may forget, but he won’t say a damn thing. And he surely won’t spill Steve’s beans, especially with the way he looks to him in open earnest.

“Okay,” Steve responds. His legs fall away from the couch and he rights himself into being completely upright. Ramrod straight. On the far right cushion. Mirroring Eddie’s tight pose. Feet flat to the floor. His eyes trace something on the coffee table, cracks probably, but Eddie can’t exactly tell. “Okay. I…You’re going to be the second person I’ve ever told this to, alright? And I—I figured that it would come out sooner or later, but you’re gonna need an explanation for whatever the fuck just happened. And I don’t know how else to talk about it without just going all-in. So…I just need you to listen. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “you have the floor, Stevie. My mouth is shut.”

Steve nods slow, a ghost of a smile on his face. Breathes in through his nose, it traps in his chest and comes out as one gentle gust. He swallows heavily, words seemingly rising in his throat. And that smile falls away just as it sprung.

“In middle school, before I was popular and whatever, I had a group of friends that I ran with. We were all nerds, I won’t deny that. And—And I would involve myself with some of their interests, if only because I wanted to fit in,” Steve explains first. His eyes roam again. Not picking a spot, but Eddie won’t fault him for it. He continues, voice fracturing, “One of the guys I was closer to, we’ll call him R, he was interested in this club. It was kind of like a tech club? Focused on radios and channels and math and…Things that I was actually kind of good with, but needed a better understanding on. So, I figured, I’d sign up for this club. Go with my…friend.”

Before he goes on to say more, he leans over for the glass of water on the table. Holds it gently between his hands. Doesn’t take any sips. The condensation droplets roll down his fingers. Cold most likely keeping him grounded to the room.

Eddie can already tell he’s not going to like wherever this part of Steve’s past leads him. How Steve has to take breaks, it upsets Eddie greatly. He’s not sure he’s entirely prepared for whatever confession comes from Steve this time, but he’ll digest it. Get through this with the guy and figure out all he needs to.

Another steadying breath. And Steve’s voice is like gravel, but he keeps talking.

“It was a weekly thing. And we’d go in. Be taught about gadgets and whats-its and whatnot. R was there, though. He was always there. We’d talk, laugh, shoot the shit. Normal friend bullshit.

“One day, though. One day, something was…different. He looked at me. There was a sense of hunger. Want. A drive to him that I’d never seen before. He’d lean more into my space, drop his voice lower, whisper right into my ear.” Steve blinks in rapid succession. His breath keeps stuttering. And something in Eddie’s stomach sours. He goes, though. Pushing through. “I told him to stop. To knock it off. Kept telling him that I was trying to learn. That I wanted to focus. And he just…He wouldn’t,” he explains.

Eddie spikes with great unease and anger. Never at Steve. But whoever this so called ‘friend’ is, Eddie wants to maybe kill him. He keeps quiet, though. Steve wanted to share and he needs this out. And Eddie can listen. He can, even if it makes him want to cry, too.

“I thought that’s all it would be,” Steve speaks quietly, “Just him talking to me in this new tone. With this new level to his voice. But…I’m kind of stupid, I guess, so of course that’s not all he’d do. The next week at our club meeting, he got closer than before. He began to…” Steve stops and swallows. A single, silent tear crawls down his face. It doesn’t even phase him, the way crying usually does. It’s just background at this point. “…He began to—to touch me in ways I’d never been. And I—I told him to stop, I remember doing that. I remember putting distance between us. And saying no and saying stop and shoving his hands off me. But he just—“ A broken little sob. “—He was supposed to be my friend,” he states, small as a child.

The sobs rack Steve in such a way that his whole body is jolting with it. Nearly toppling off the couch. He chugs the water between cries, but doesn’t move from his spot. Tight and closed off within his own body.

“I wanted him to just be my friend,” Steve continues a moment later, nasally and choked. “But he didn’t want that. He kept overpowering every single decision I made. His breath on my earlobe. And his hands on my thigh, on my…He fucking touched my crotch. Tried to coerce me into having sex,” he spits. “That guy…He made me feel fucking disgusting. About my own body. About things I loved. About sex,” Steve growls, “Made me sort of dislike all those things, too.”

Eddie, for how loud he can be, is completely silent for once. Unable to form words. Not sure how to comfort. And if he could comfort, isn’t sure if that’s something he can do the way he wants to. He can’t touch. Can’t do what he’d normally do. And his body aches to take care of Steve or to simply hold him. To be…well, to be a friend. But that’s not something Steve can exactly trust.

He feels sick to his stomach.

The last bit of water is sipped at slowly, as Steve comes down. Then, he turns to face Eddie. Making direct and purposeful eye contact. “It’s not your fault, that I reacted like I did,” he states lowly. “And it’s not your fault that I close up when you want to talk about sex. Or you wanna talk about all that intimate shit. It’s something with me. Like something’s broken. It’s like a deep crack in me, Eddie.

“And I just wanted to clear up all that. Explain what I can, I guess.” He snakes out a tentative hand. It’s shaking and hesitant, but it still lands softly on the back of Eddie’s right. Squeezes. “But thank you for taking notice. And being concerned. And for apologizing. I feel safe with you, Eddie. I trust you a lot. Which is like—That’s probably highest honors you could earn with me.” And he chuckles slightly. It’s not a humorous thing, but it’s not exactly humorless either.

Eddie lets himself soak in this, though. Smiling warmly back at Steve. Because he needs it. They both need it. He murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me with that, Steve. That wasn’t easy and I’m proud of you for speaking up about it. I’m glad to be somebody you can trust.”

With another exhale, Steve relaxes back into the couch. His hand doesn’t move from Eddie’s. “I also want to say that you’re allowed to talk about your relationships with dudes,” he states quietly. “Seriously, I don’t mind. But just…Just check in with me? Before you do?”

“Of course,” he agrees instantly. “I’ll keep that in my noggin, promise, Stevie.”

Ghost of a smile on Steve’s face again. “Thanks,” he whispers.

A lull floats in the conversation. Steve removes his hand, watching as his fingers twitch, and there’s a little uptick to the corners of his mouth. Something pleased and almost…reverent at the way he looks at his hand.

Before Eddie can get up to change out the movie, he heaves a little sigh. And says, “Y’know, if you ever need any sort of physical comfort, need to talk about this, or you just need somebody to tell you that you’re okay, you can lean on me. Don’t even need to ask, really. I’m all arms.”

“I’ll think about it, Eds. This has been enough for me."

——— Steve comes out to him at the same diner Eddie did only a few years later.

It’s 1990, Eddie’s twenty-four and Steve’s freshly twenty-three. He has a certain spark to him. A sparkle to his smile and a pep in his step. And Eddie’s happy to see him happy.

Happy to eventually call their relationship romantic. Happy to share spots on the couch, curled around each other. Happy to kiss him slow and sweet or not at all, just able to gaze over coffee mugs and across the room and when Steve thinks he can’t be seen.

Eddie’s just happy to be allowed this love that fills his chest and in the colder, vacant spots of their lives.

But he realizes he still hasn’t heard everything about Steve. He gives it time, though. Because the second most important thing to Steve—first just being there for him—is patience.

The next of their chats happens when things get heated on the couch.

Soft kisses turn hungry, carnivorous. Hands wander over heated skin. Steve’s fingers against the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. But his hands shake. And Eddie places his own hands off to the sides of the couch, pulling himself away before things can get any farther than they already are.

“Hey,” he softly speaks, “Steve, we don’t—I’m okay with just kissing right now. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Steve stops next to him. Tensing up only slightly. “Are you—You’re sure about that?” His voice is so tiny, so unlike him. And though Eddie’s heard this tone before, it still breaks him.

He says easily, “I don’t want you to be scared of our first time, baby. It’s okay if we need to take things slow.”

He watches as Steve heavily swallows. “And if I asked if we never had sex?”

Eddie eyes him for a moment. Not wearily. With something like subtle pride. “Is that what you want?” He asks in turn. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

Subtly, Steve nods. “I—“ He sighs sadly. “I’ve been thinking about how to talk to you about it. With girls, I never even liked it. I just did it because it…There was something to say about a guy who could have sex with anybody he wants. But I also…I don’t know.” He shrugs as if trying to dismiss it, but Eddie doesn’t like that.

He sets a hesitant, soft hand on Steve’s shoulder. Squeezes when he doesn’t move away. “If you never want to have sex again, I’d be okay with that. I’d be more than okay with that,” he states assuringly. “You being happy and comfortable is what matters most to me. Not sex. I don’t give a shit about sex, not when I get to see you every day, smile on your face, and your eyes shiny and beautiful.”

Steve gives another small sigh, but the smile he has doesn’t waver. “Okay. I—Eddie, I don’t think I want to have sex,” he admits quietly. It shakes from his throat, but it’s still confident the way it lands between them. “It just doesn’t feel good to me. And I—I don’t want to force myself to do it. And it wouldn’t be fair to you, either.”

Another affirmative squeeze to Steve’s shoulder. “Alright, baby. Then we don’t have sex,” he agrees softly. “And if you ever change your mind—not that I’m forcing you to—then I’m okay with what you want.” He scoots himself closer so that their bodies are one single line, warm against each other. Reiterating, “Your happiness and comfort matter the most to me.”

With both of his hands, Steve wraps Eddie’s free one. Traces the veins on the back of his hand. Toys with his fingers. “We can still kiss, though,” he states quietly. “Maybe I want a kiss.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. So, he closes the gap. A wet peck to Eddie’s lips. Soft and venturing. One that last only a few seconds. He draws back with the softest smile adorned on his features. Murmurs, “Thank you for hearing me out on this. And for understanding. And for accepting this.”

“I love you, Steve. Just for you. Not the sex or touch. We could never do anything except sit next to each other and talk, and I’d still love you,” Eddie swears.

Steve sniffs something wet. Shoves himself a little closer, cuddling into Eddie’s chest. To which Eddie wraps his arms around his back in response. And he sighs, but it’s a sound of long awaited relief. “I love you, too, Eddie. God, I love you.”

The conversations are tough and they are stomach turning, but after it all, Eddie gets to have Steve. How he is. How he wants to be. And that’s all Eddie could hope for.

He kisses the top of Steve’s head and relaxes back into the couch. “I’m proud of you, Steve,” he murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for being patient. Being here.”

Eddie squeezes them together even tighter. Warm in his chest at the content noise that draws itself from Steve. This could be all that they do forever and Eddie would never ask for more.

🩵—————🩵

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #cw referenced rape/non-con #read the content warnings #asexual steve harrington

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onceuponapuffin · 1 day

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Fanatic Intervention Part 7!!!

Beginning|| Previous || Next

It will not surprise you at all, dear Reader, to learn that Aziraphale keeps very little in his kitchen cupboards. There is no stove or oven, and the only thing in the fridge is milk (for his tea no doubt). When you start opening cupboards, you find one pack of custard creams, and a second one of chocolate digestives. Well, it will have to do. You find yourself a small plate and fill it half and half before heading back into the shop just in time to say goodbye to Anathema and Newt.

As they leave, you turn to the supernatural entities in the room.

“So,” You say, “If we’re going to the States, then we have a few problems. First, I don’t have my passport or any ID at all, so airport security is going to be fun. Second, I have no money. Third, I’m gonna need a Walmart or something because I don’t even have a toothbrush, my dudes. Fourth, these,” You indicate the cookies, “are fine for a snack, but overall they’re not gonna cut it.”

“You just leave the airport security to us,” Aziraphale replies. You make a note that he glided right past ‘my dudes,’ they’re getting used to you already. Dammit. “As for the rest of it,” Aziraphale continues, “I suppose a trip to Tesco’s is in order.”

Crowley produces a shiny black credit card from nowhere and hands it to you. “We’ll take the Bentley,” he says. He starts to stand, but you shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, you both stay here,” You say. Crowley raises his eyebrow.

“You realize we can take care of ourselves,” he says, “We’ve been doing it for a few millennia.”

“I’m not talking about that,” You say, “Look, what we’re going into is really dangerous. And I know that your pattern is to just wait to talk about things until you’re in the clear, but that’s not a good idea anymore. I mean, I get that I’m not exactly an expert, but I read just as much as you do and I’ve heard a million stories by this point in my life, and in NONE of them do people ever say ‘I’m so glad I never told them how I feel’ - you know? It’s always ‘I wish I would have’ or ‘I should have told them every day.’ So Muriel and I will go ask Maggie to take us to Tesco, and you two need to talk. Please. While it’s safe, while you have the chance, before things get dangerous and possibly deadly.”

Crowley and Aziraphale are silent. You notice that they aren’t looking at each other. Well, you’ve done your best. Now you need to trust them.

At this point, dear Reader, you are probably thinking to yourself ‘well I would snoop and spy on them while they talk! I want to watch them make out!’ But here is the thing – in this world they are real people, not characters. It’s one thing to say that you would creep on them from the other side of this fiction, but when they’re very real and looking at you in person, things are a little different. For one thing, you realize that real people deserve things like boundaries and privacy, especially for sensitive conversations.

And so, you take Muriel over to Maggie’s shop, where you explain that Mr. Fell has sent the two of you on an errand and you need to stop for dinner somewhere and have no idea where anything is. You flash her the credit card and say ‘It’s all on me,’ and she conveniently agrees with a look on her face that says something like ‘least they could do after all that shit they put us through.’

So the three of you go for dinner at the nearest Weatherspoons, where you and Maggie eat while Muriel watches in morbid fascination. Then you all take the bus to Tesco where you buy yourself a small wardrobe, and manage to coax Muriel into some light blue jeans and an argyle jumper so they look a little less like the Beacon of Gondor. You quickly find out that Muriel has an adorable fascination with fuzzy socks, novelty mugs, and coloured pencils. Of course, you enable their fascinations with a happy heart, and as an afterthought, you grab them a small pot of orange daisies from the flower section. It will give them something alive to tend to while you’re gone. Muriel appreciates the thought. All in all, it’s a long but good time.

You don’t know about the talk, and you’re worried about asking when you get back.

THAT BEING SAID

You and I, dear Reader, not actually being in that world, are allowed certain privileges.

The bookshop is silent for a long time. Both of them are thinking, digesting, processing. Feelings are hard to feel, and harder to put into words. Especially when it has been made clear, twice now in the span of a number of hours, that you absolutely need to put them into words.

It isn’t until after Crowley notices you, Muriel, and Maggie heading down the street that he stands up and begins to pace. A few more minutes pass before he speaks.

“So...uhm...are you going to go first or should I?”

“Are we...are we actually going to do this? Have this talk I mean?” Aziraphale has been shelving books to try and take the edge off. Now he puts down the book in his hands and absent-mindedly fidgets with his ring.

“Well, I mean we don’t have to,” Crowley says, aiming for non-chalance and missing ever-so-slightly, “No one can actually make us.”

“Yes, except it feels very much like everyone is trying to.”

“Trying is the key word there.”

“That’s true enough I suppose.”

The silence returns and stretches. It is anything but comfortable. The air is full of words that they have been told they should say, words that perhaps they want to say, but words that have been dammed up with fear and uncertainty for so long now that they’ve become very hard to un-stick. After a while, Aziraphale clears his throat and speaks.

“I, erm, I suppose you had better go first.”

“Me, right, okay.” Crowley clears his throat now and stops his pacing near the desk. He looks down at the scattered papers and books, the pens and photos and newspaper clippings. The assorted clutter of Aziraphale’s life. Looking away makes it easier to start. He takes a breath. “Um..right...well...we’ve known each other a long time. We’ve been on this planet a long time – you and me, I mean. I’ve always been able to rely on you, and you’ve always relied on me,” another breath, “We’re a team, yeah? A group of the two of us. And...erm...we pretend that we aren’t. Always have. Safer that way I guess.” He looks up at Aziraphale. The angel isn’t looking at him, but he nods anyway to show that he’s listening. Crowley continues. “And I mean...I’ve tried not to think about it much before but...but it would be nice, I mean, UGH” He takes off his sunglasses and rubs a hand over his eyes as though he can massage the words and make them easier to say. “I mean, I would like to spend...mmm….I would like to spend the rest not pretending anymore. Be an us. I mean,” suddenly the dam breaks, and Crowley finds the words come tumbling out, “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, we can. We don’t need Heaven or Hell, they’re both toxic. We can be an us, on our side. You and me. What do you say?” He looks at Aziraphale without reservation now. His angel looks back at him, eyes wide. When he does speak, it’s with a smile and a small nod of acknowledgment rather than agreement.

“That was very well done Crowley,” he says. This isn’t an answer.

“Nnyeah, thanks. Your turn though.”

“Right, I suppose it is.” Aziraphale takes a moment to gather himself. After hearing Crowley be so open about this, he feels more resolved himself to do this properly. He faces Crowley and folds his hands to keep himself grounded. “Crowley,” he begins, “I...I wish that this conversation were happening under better circumstances. Although it’s been pointed out that ideal circumstances aren’t a promise that we can wait around for. Well, the thing is that I would like the same thing. Very much in fact. My biggest concern by far is for your safety because, well, frankly I don’t see the point in saving the world again if you’re not around to enjoy it with me. An us, as you said. You and me.” He smiles. Crowley smiles.

“Guess we’d better save the world together then. And try not to die.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“You’re my angel. No one else.”

“And you, my wiley serpent. No one else.”

The shop bell dings.

“We’re baaaaaack!” You sing as you waltz through the door, shopping bags in hand. Muriel follows after you, carefully carrying their daisies. “Did you miss us?”

When you eventually get the courage to ask them about their talk later, you get a “ngk” from Crowley, and a “We’ve said all that needs to be said, for now.” from Aziraphale. And that, you suppose, will have to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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nethhiri · 1 day

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Marooned: Chapter 31

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/infertility

(I meant for this to be funny/lighthearted but it turned slightly angsty? Don't worry though. It's sandwiched between fluff.)

Consequences

Killer woke up before you did. At some point in the night, the positions changed until you were now the little spoon and he was curled around your back, face pressed into your hair, inhaling the way you smelled. His hand rested on your stomach, having very innocently moved your shirt out of the way so he could feel the soft skin underneath. It slid down to gently knead at your love handle. He wanted to stay like that for longer; unfortunately a ship of hungry pirates was not pleasant to be aboard. "Y/N," he whispered. "You're gonna help with breakfast, aren't you?"

You groaned, pulling the sheets over your head. "Not now, boss. M'sleepy." Clearly, you were somewhere else in your head.

His fingers prodded your ribs until a soft giggle came from under the sheets. "Wake up, breadcrumb."

"Killerrrrrrrrrr." You turned to face him with half-lidded eyes, barely peeking out from the sheets. You were about to plant a kiss on him, but shrunk closer to him when you heard boots approaching the door to the bathroom. He was also turned on his side, facing you, so you were hidden behind him, still under the sheets.

The door opened and Killer half-turned to see Kid standing in the doorway. "Killer, why are there three toothbrushes?" Kid's eyes were narrowed.

"You must have taken out another one when you were drunk." Killer didn't feel like dealing with Kid this early in the morning.

"No. Mine is blue, yers is red, and now there's a purple."

Killer straightened slightly. "Mine is blue."

"Pretty sure mine is the blue one."

"Kid!" Killer knew all too well what Kid did with his mouth and frowned at the implication they had inadvertently been sharing. "Why the fuck would I use red when that's your color? I'm blue. You're red."

Kid shrugged. "I like blue." He shook his head. "Wait that's not what I'm here to argue about. Why is there a purple!?" Kid walked around Killer's bed to see who was in it. He had a suspicion that Killer hadn't invited him to your nighttime activities like he promised. Kid grabbed the covers and yanked at them, but they didn't budge, firmly in your grip. So he did the next best thing and snaked his hand underneath, finding a small foot. "Aha!" He dragged you out from the end of the bed.

You tried to grab something to hold onto to no avail. "Killer, help!" You reached for him and giggled. "Noooooo!" You yelled as you were rudely pulled out and left to plop onto the floor. "Ow, Kid." You sat at the foot of the bed on the floor, letting your head fall back against the mattress behind you.

"I knew it! Ya fucked without me!"

"No, we didn't, Kid." Killer rolled his eyes and reached for his helmet on the side table. "Swear on your life."

Kid looked confused. "Why not? On yer period or somethin?" Why else would you be in the same bed as Killer and not fuck?

Killer scoffed. "What does that matter?" He got out of bed and started to get ready for the day.

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't even remember when the last time I had one was." You didn't think anything of it. Kid was, again, ruining your nice moments with Killer and it was annoying you. "Believe me. I tried." You added, "We just... cuddled. It was... nice." You felt yourself starting to flush and took that as your cue to leave before Kid could make fun of you. You moved in the shadows, trying to avoid being seen leaving Killer's room in pjs and simultaneously praying you didn't get a splinter in your bare feet. Somehow, you were successful on both fronts. Emma and Quincy noticed your absence all last evening, but they assumed you had been helping Killer in the galley and then stayed with Kid. You didn't correct them. It was weird. You could care less if people talked about you and Kid. Killer, though, you wanted to keep that to yourself. It felt wrong to talk about it, especially since it respected his privacy, too.

You met Killer in the galley to help with breakfast. Every time he put his hand against your back to push past you or grabbed something from you, brushing your hand, you felt hot. You kept feeling hot. Really hot. The feeling didn't go away and you were sweating. You leaned against the counter, feeling lightheaded.

Killer stopped his buzzing around the kitchen to put his hand on your forehead. "Are you ok?"

You shook your head. "I think I need to lay down." You felt fine when you woke up so why did you suddenly start feeling cruddy?

"Do you want me to come check on you later?" Killer probably would have just done it, however he didn't want to overstep, afraid that you would feel suffocated if he gave you too much attention too soon.

"I'm okay." You didn't want Killer wasting his time looking after you. After all, you were the doctor.

You headed directly to the infirmary, rifling through the cabinets for a few things. Before you had the chance to take the rainbow of pills sitting on the counter, a wave of nausea overcame you. Sprinting into the bathroom without a second to spare, you were hung over the toilet, heaving your guts out. Mostly bile came up since you had digested the previous night's food already. When your stomach decided to calm down, you dragged yourself to lay on one of the gurneys, promptly passing out.

The captain was in his workshop, still miffed about being left out. So what if there was no fucking? Maybe he wanted to snuggle, too. So what if he was a brute? He liked soft things, too. The sound of you entering your side of the involuntarily shared space directed his thoughts elsewhere. Kid heard all the commotion through the massively huge hole in the wall, still not fixed. "If yer gonna puke, at least shut the door. Damn," Kid mumbled. He wondered what had you feeling like shit. Surely, it wasn't Killer's cooking. He couldn't think of a time when he had ever gotten sick from his first mate's food. But there was an itch in his brain. Something you said earlier. It sent him into a cold sweat. "I don't even remember when the last time I had one was." One by one, every time he fucked you played in his head, and by default, every time he came, some times on you, but mostly in you. "Shit." Kid, paler than ever, went to find Killer.

Kid burst through the galley doors, trying to be cool, but the shifting of his eyes gave away that he was in his head. "Hey, Kil." He pretended to be interested in the food, which was hardly pretending except for the fact his stomach was doing flips. "Did ya, uh, notice anything about Y/N this morning?"

That got Killer's attention. Kid had never referred to you by name before, always using 'Rotten' or his other nicknames. Killer continued to cook, "Yeah. She didn't feel good." Where is he going with this?

"I heard her puking in the infirmary bathroom." Kid seemed anxious.

Killer was immediately concerned. "You think it was my spaghetti?" He sounded dejected. The pride he had in his food would be severely wounded if he had accidentally gave you food poisoning. He felt fine, though, and you had eaten the same thing.

Kid rubbed his arm. "No. I think it possibly, may be, slightly my fault." He was sweating.

The first mate knew his captain well, and knew that he was struggling to say something. "Kid," he said lowly. "What did you do?" Killer didn't know what to think. Did Kid pull a prank that went wrong? Maybe he accidentally poisoned you. Killer knew Kid had been annoying you by moving stuff around in the infirmary. What if he switched the bottles of something and you took too much of the wrong thing? "You better go apologize for whatever it is if you're sweating this badly over it."

"I don't think an apology will do much." Kid took a deep breath. "Remember earlier this morning? When I said the thing about the period and then she said she couldn't remember the last one."

Killer put 2 and 2 together. "Kid... We've talked about this." The world didn't need any more red-headed pirates in it.

"I know. I know! But in the moment... And she didn't stop me! So it's not all my fault!"

Killer wasn't all that worried. Sure. It was a very real possibility, but he doubted a woman so hellbent on revenge and being reckless would even allow it to be a remote one. "She's not stupid, Kid. If she wasn't worried, then either there's not a reason to be, OR she wanted to have your kid. And I HIGHLY doubt the second possibility. She can't stand even the one of you."

Kid looked a touch offended. "Killer, you aren't taking this seriously." Kid ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't put that much thought into thatpart of his future.

Killer shrugged. "It's not my kid." He knew that would rile Kid up, but couldn't resist poking at him. If he was actually concerned, he would be more empathetic.

Kid huffed. "Well the way the two of ya are getting on, yer gonna be the step-dad." He folded his arms, reminded of being left out.

"Oh my god, you're jealous." Killer chuckled. Kid was so cute when he was jealous. His pouty face and grumbling voice made Killer grin under his mask. Killer shook his head and sighed. "Why don't you leave her alone for now, and later I'll go with you to check up on her, unless you want to go by yours-"

"No. I need ya to come with me." Kid quickly interjected. It's not like he was scared or anything. It was for you, in case you needed Killer's support.

After an entire day of Kid pacing the ship, freaking out in his head, Killer had found him and the two went to check on you. At first Kid was freaking out about the presence of a child on a pirate ship, though none of them were raised in savory conditions in the first place, so maybe it would be fine. Then he was freaking out because the combined personalities of you and he would be an absolute demon of a child, and how would he make it listen. Kid didn't really love the idea of a kid, but he would be damned if he let it grow up like he, Killer, Wire, and Heat did. If you even stayed, or wanted it, or wanted to participate in raising it. There were a lot of uncertainties. Unwarranted, as he would soon find out.

Killer knocked and entered.

"I told you not to check on me," your voice was strained. They didn't see you initially. You had opted to lay with Mini on the floor, instead of the gurney. Lay was a strong term, you were curled into a ball, shivering. "Don't come closer!" You held your hand out in a gesture to stop.

"You look like shit." Killer saw how green and clammy you were. Sweating, yet shaking like you were freezing. He could plainly see that you were sick.

Lifting your head to look at him, you didn't think Kid would be there as well. You assumed Killer would probably come check on you or send Heat even though you said not to. Kid, though, he wasn't the type to show concern for another person. You pulled yourself up to be sitting. He had a weird energy about him. "What's your problem?" You directed it at Kid.

"YER PREGNANT!" He blurted it right out.

You stared at him blankly. How the fuck did he reach that conclusion? A bunch of things went through your head at once. It was something you didn't go telling everyone. But you realized you probably should have mentioned it to the guy who was shooting loads in you basically every day for weeks off and on. You didn't feel bad, however, because you were still mad at him for a variety of reasons and he deserved to sweat a little. "Well, fuck I would have stopped drinking if I knew that." You got serious and frowned at him. "And what do you plan to do about it?"

Kid stammered. "I-I- uh." He didn't have to struggle for long. He thought you were crying before realizing you were laughing at him.

"Kid, relax. I'm not." You smirked. "Is that why you ran out of here like a scared animal this morning?" You shouldn't be laughing at his mental torment, but seeing Kid a little scared was interesting and you were a little delirious from whatever concoction you whipped up for yourself.

"Told you." Killer stated, matter-of-factly, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Shut up. I wasn't worried." Kid grumbled, though visibly relieved. "But explain anyways," Kid demanded. "You were puking and... you know all the times-"

"All the times you couldn't pull out because this pussy is too good? Yeah I recall." Mainly, you didn't want to go about your day dripping cum into your panties. You gave up on asking him to pull out however, because he simply couldn't. "I would have been a lot angrier with you if there was a risk of getting pregnant, dumbass. But now I can't help but wonder how many brats you have out there in the world with that shitty ass pull-out game." You were giggling.

"I'm more careful with whores! Shut up!" Kid was fully red.

Killer shot you a dubious look.

"Aw, does that mean I'm not a whore to you?" You decided to grace him with an answer. "It's physically impossible for me to have a kid. So you can continue to nut as you please, when I decide to fuck you again." '

"When?" Killer questioned, a cheeky look on his face.

You corrected yourself. "If. If I decide."

Normally Kid would have been focusing on the part about the nutting. However, he was stuck on the first thing you said. You weren't a whore to him, but what were you to him? Both you and Killer had assumed he was jealous of the time Killer spent with you instead of with him. Kid found himself strangely jealous of your attention. He wanted more of it. "Why can't ya?" Kid didn't mean to be rude, for once. He just wanted to know, to be sound of mind.

Killer hit the back of his head. "You can't ask that!"

"It's fine." It didn't really bother you. You never wanted kids in the first place and in this life, it was a blessing in disguise. A really painful, terrible disguise. You pulled up your shirt, holding the hem in your teeth, and unbuttoned your pants, pulling the waistband down until it was at the edge of your pubes. "You probably never noticed it since you were preoccupied with... other things." There was a pale, silvery, jagged scar about 2/3 of the way from your belly button to your mons, just above your pubic ramus. "Katana got me." You shivered and put your pants back on.

"Oh," was all Kid said.

"You really don't look good. Do you need some soup? Water?" Killer saw how uncomfortable you were and also wanted to change the subject since he wasn't sure how much it bothered you.

"M'fine." You let yourself slide back down on your side. Mini picked up her head and licked you.

Stubborn. "Ok. Will you have someone get me if it gets worse?"

"Probably not."

"It wasn't a question," Killer put on his first-mate voice. He continued, "Kid, why don't you keep an eye on her?"

"I'm not fuckin staying here ta get sick."

"Lucky for you, someone installed an observation window," Killer motioned to the big fucking hole in the wall, "so you can sit alllll the way at your workbench and still see."

Kid grumbled, walking over to his side of the space and Killer left.

You barely moved over the next day and Kid couldn't stand the sight of you shivering. So damn annoying. He tried to ignore it, ignore you. Every noise or sudden movement you made had his head snapping up to see what was wrong. He couldn't focus on anything he did. With a frustrated growl, he stomped over to look down on you. "Yer so damn irritating." Shrugging his coat off, he laid it over you. "If ya barf on this, I'm throwing ya into the sea, got it?" You didn't give any response, deep in sleep. His eyes flicked to your right ear. The top part of the helix was missing, damaged from the attack you had endured. He didn't know what came over him the other day, but as he fiddled with scraps, he had an idea. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small, crescent shaped piece of metal that he hid from Killer earlier in the week. It was cuffed and made from a nice silvery-colored metal. With a gentleness unbecoming of hands so rough and calloused, he moved your hair out of the way and slid the metal prosthetic, though it was more like jewelry, over your ear. It attached to the helix that was left to resemble the part that was missing, like the tip of your ear was dipped in silver. "Hmph." A small flicker of pride lit inside him. It looked good. Of course it does. I made it. He didn't know why, but he did.

#bro if someone was using my toothbrush I would puke on the spot #idk why that's so nasty to me #It's Kid's turn to be a sweetie but he's still a meanie about it #idk about y'all but when I read the fics with blatant unprotected sex I get anxious about the reader and pregnancy #be safe y'all fr #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #marooned #kid x reader x killer #killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #x reader #one piece #anyways it was supposed to be lighthearted but I didn't want to make light of infertility bc it's extremely serious for some people #I hope I respected that

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bymarara · 19 hours

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Let's talk about this.

"The Vanishing of *** Wheeler." - So... Which Wheeler? Mike, Nancy, Holly? I'm leaning towards the last one, but! They all make sense. One can imagine how Vecna, could be after Mike, to at the same time, hurt Will, Al. Or, he could be using Mike as bait to lure them into a trap.

It's also conceivable that Vekna would come after Nancy for revenge because his plan didn't work out as planned, and Nancy, who knew more than anyone, almost killed him at the end of season 4.(But also, it would be as bait for others, a trap to lure them into the Otherworld.)

And the best part. What if it was Holly? Let's look back through all the seasons and realize the fact that she was somehow but connected to the Yznan, she saw a lot of things.

Season 1 - Holly was the one who went to the Byers house to get light bulbs and saw in Demogorgon style (saw somewhere a suggestion that it could even be Vekna, who even then wanted to kidnap her.).

Season 3 - On the Ferris wheel, Holly noticed that the trees were moving and apparently didn't believe her mom that it was the wind. I think Holly sensed something wrong, you know what they say, kids see more than adults.

Season 4 - We're shown that Holly is the first to notice ash from the sky, calling it snow. Once again, she's the first to notice something weird and it's not weird?

I think she's going to play a big role. Holly, Ted's favorite and father, Ted even fell asleep with her in his arms. We're told that Ted and Mike will have some kind of interaction, so why wouldn't it be a conversation like Ted is worried and starts asking Mike what the heck has been going on for years and where is the youngest daughter missing? Also, Holly's disappearance could strengthen the family as everyone will be on the lookout for the girl.

"Escape from Camazotz" - I think this is going to be a clash of the Bylers. We all know that the Bylers will likely have some sort of tension, but we know that they will most likely be Endgame this season. There are rumors and theories that the Bylers will become canon in episode 7. I think this all makes sense since we haven't been given the title of the last two episodes because they could be a huge spoiler.

" Sorcerer." - I can very likely tell you what was going on in Yznanka with him 1983. We'll be shown this with flashbacks that may show Vecna for some purpose, perhaps to get him to his side and show how similar they all are. Also, maybe it will show us that Will has the ability to hear and sense Vecna. Because of that, everyone might be afraid of him, since he can play both sides, or even if it's not him anymore, they might be afraid of him being evil. Mike and Joyce will be reminded of the events of season 2 and assure them that Will is fine.

#byler #byler endgame #finn wolfhard #mike wheeler #byler brainrot #will byers #mike wheeler fanart #noah schnapp #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5 #st5 #stranger things #stranger things s5 #joyce byers #holly wheeler #nancy wheeler #st5 spoilers

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happy74827 · 20 hours

Text

The Demon With A Heart

[Crowley x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Crowley saves your life, you can't help but think it was a little more than self-interest.

WC: 1858

Category: 99.9% Sexual Tension (lmfao), 0.01% Fluff + Angst? {TW: Mentions of Demons (obvi), Murder}

Crowley is too iconic not to have fics. I said what I said.

『••✎••』

You didn’t know how to react. It was as if your tongue was taken away, and you couldn’t talk, no matter how much you wanted to thank the man.

No, the demon.

You stood there with wide eyes, staring at the King of Hell, Crowley. He looked the same as before: a clean suit, a snarky comment, and a look of disgust on his face. But, instead of being on the opposite side, he was wiping the blood off of the angel blade he used to kill the angel that jumped you.

He just saved you—The King of Hell.

The very man who told Sam and Dean countless times that he doesn't do anything for free and doesn’t help people without getting something out of it. Yet, here he was, standing in front of you, not asking for a single thing.

The thought was a bit unsettling.

"Purely out of self-interest, darling," He says, breaking the silence and putting the stolen blade into his jacket. "Call it a favor that I plan to collect in the future."

He was about to leave, but you couldn’t let him go. Not without a thank you, at least. You didn't want him to think you didn’t appreciate what he did.

"Crowley."

The man turns back around, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you"

The corner of his mouth turned upward, forming a small smirk. He didn’t say anything but rather kept his eyes on you for a second longer. He then disappeared, leaving you in the dark.

And it did leave you in the dark. For days, weeks, months. He never came for that favor, and he never brought up what happened. In fact, he barely talked to you at all. It was always towards the Winchesters.

You began to believe it was nothing but a dream. That Crowley somehow didn't save you. The angel was a fake, and this was all some sick joke. It felt like gaslighting.

But you knew what happened was real. You remembered the blood splatter and the dead corpse. The way his face contorted when he pierced the angel's heart.

It was all too real.

So, why was he ignoring you? Why did he pretend that it never happened? Was he going to hold it over your head? Or was it just the fact that the King of Hell did something nice for a human?

Was it because he… cared?

One night, you got your answer. It was a quiet night filled with books, tea, and soft music. At least, it was before those idiotic brothers decided to tear down the bunker in search of some book.

You couldn’t remember the exact reason they needed it, but you were too tired to argue. So, you stayed in your room and tried to fall asleep.

That is until the lights went out and the emergency lights kicked on. Okay, now you were annoyed. You got up, slipped on your shoes and a coat, and walked out of your room.

"Alright, what did you two-"

You paused mid-sentence, eyes falling onto the figure in the library. The man was facing the opposite way, but you knew exactly who it was. The familiar black suit and hair gave it away.

"Crowley…"

"Hello, Darling,” he replied, turning around and smiling at you. It was almost unnerving. He didn’t have a malicious aura or even an evil one. Just... a smile.

You looked behind him and noticed… well, nothing. You were expecting the Winchesters to be with him, and yet, it was just him.

"Where are the boys?"

"Moose and Squirrel? Ah, they're off somewhere, doing... well, you know. Something heroic, I suppose. Figured I’d stick around… enjoy the scenery."

That’s when you looked up and understood what he meant. He was stuck, quite literally. Those devil traps they put everywhere finally did something good.

You half-expected him to bring up that 'favor' he was talking about or maybe even just demand to get out of there, but he did neither. Instead, he looked at the ground and sighed.

At the moment, the King of Hell looked just like a caged puppy, sad and alone. If he wasn’t such a… demon, you might have even felt bad for him.

But, you left him in there, strolling along to the kitchen to find some kind of light. You were not giving up your two hours of reading due to power loss.

As you shuffled through the cabinets, looking for any form of match or lighter, the lights flickered back on.

So that’s where the Winchesters were.

You shrugged and turned back to your room but stopped at the entrance to the library. Crowley was still there, but this time, his face was twisted. He was clearly pissed.

"Why did you do it?" The burning question you wanted answered for months finally came out. Crowley stopped his little fit and turned towards you, a confused expression on his face.

He looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.

"I do a lot of things, Chipmunk. You'll have to be more specific."

You walked towards him, resting down the candles and book on a nearby table. You didn’t know why, but the need to confront him was growing.

"Save me all those months ago."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You were getting closer, now only a few feet from him. Crowley, however, didn’t back away. Instead, he watched as you moved, his expression unchanging.

"That angel could’ve killed me, yet you came out of nowhere and stabbed him. I know you don't do anything out of kindness, so why did you do it? What do I offer that no one else does?"

Crowley stayed silent for a while, not giving any indication of answering your questions.

You thought it was just a lost cause until his expression changed. It was subtle, but you caught it. The corner of his mouth turned down, and his eyes widened, then narrowed.

He almost looked ashamed.

"It's just like I said. Self-interest." He spat out, his voice sounding like venom. You almost took a step back. It still sounded like the same old Crowley, but his tone was different.

You decided to call his bluff.

"I don't believe you."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, a smirk coming across his face. He was amused by the sudden attitude, but it didn’t last long.

"And what makes you say that?"

"I saw the way you looked at me after you saved me. Hesitancy, almost. Like you were unsure. As if..."

The King of Hell stared at you, waiting for the last part of your statement. He was eager but not for the answer. No, he knew what you were going to say.

He was just waiting to hear it come out of your mouth.

"You care."

Those words hung in the air, both of you processing it. Crowley continued to stare at you, the smirk disappearing, leaving his face neutral. He had a blank expression.

A silence grew, the atmosphere turning awkward. It wasn't until the demon let out a loud sigh and looked to the side that it was broken.

"You’re really pulling on the heartstrings, Chipmunk,” he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "If I had one, I'd say it was aching."

"Do you?"

You knew what you were implying. Crowley was the King of Hell, the ruler of the damned. He was the furthest thing from human, yet he could walk among them and, sometimes, be mistaken for one.

Was it possible for him to be human or even have emotions?

Crowley looked at you and frowned, clearly not liking the topic. But he didn't deny it. It was a strange sight—the King of Hell, frowning and silent.

It was almost adorable.

"I'm not asking for anything. I just… want an honest answer."

"Well, I am a demon, love,” He stated, his tone changing to a more playful one. “Honesty isn’t quite in the job description."

"Crowley"

You were starting to get impatient, and it showed. Your voice was firm, and your posture was tense. You wanted an answer, and you were determined to get it.

The demon in question let out another sigh and looked at the ceiling as if praying for a quick escape.

"You're a pain, you know that? It's exhausting." He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But, I suppose, since you asked nicely..."

The man looked at you, his lips pursed. He was still hesitating, which only made you more curious.

"Yes, I care. About you. Happy?"

You blinked a few times, processing the information. Did the King of Hell, the person known for not giving a shit, just admit he cares?

"I-" You started, not knowing what to say. It was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. Crowley wasn't exactly a bad guy, well, a demon.

"Do you actually mean that?"

"Now that…" Crowley started, his voice low and deep. He leaned towards you, making you back up, but the wall soon prevented you from going any further.

He was inches away, his breath hitting your face. You could see his eyes staring into yours—a pretty brown, like a mocha latte.

"…Is the kind of question that will get you in trouble, love."

You weren’t sure what he was planning, but you didn't care. The way his eyes were looking at you, the smirk on his face, the closeness...

He was probably expecting you to back away, but he was wrong. You were an avid reader, obsessive even. This scene wasn't new, nor was it shocking.

The only shocking part was the fact that you were the one in it. And, well, the fact that you didn’t mind it.

"Unlike you,” you whispered, a small smirk on your face. "I don’t care."

Your response made him pause for a moment, squinting his eyes and giving you a confused look. It only lasted a few seconds, though. Soon, he understood, and a chuckle escaped his lips.

"Touché"

You truly believed you were about to lose your chance with the man upstairs, but loud footsteps interrupted you.

"Crowley, you slimy son of a bitch! If you’re not here, we are going to-"

Dean stopped talking as he rounded the corner, seeing you and Crowley close. His expression was shocked, almost comical.

"The hell is going on here?"

You and Crowley both turned to look at Dean, a look of annoyance on the King of Hell's face. Sam came around the corner as well, sharing the same look of confusion.

Crowley gave you one last glance, a bit of disappointment in his eyes, before taking a step back. His attention moved on to the two hunters, his usual smile returning.

And despite the annoyance in the air and the confusion, the only thing that came across your mind was another question that you were sure would take control of your sleep schedule once again.

"Hello, boys," He purred, his arms moving to his side. He was back to his old self, not showing a single sign of what happened moments ago.

Had the beauty thawed the beast?

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pumpkinbxtch · 24 hours

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Hii, can you do a Leo Valdez x Reader one-shot about the reader getting deaf or half-deaf? Like when he discovers, or even hcs😭. I'm asking this because I got half-deaf last year and there's ZERO content about that with pjo characters. It's okay if you don't want to do it or feel uncomfortable❤️❤️❤️

ᝰ.ᐟ leo valdez x half-deaf!reader headcanons

☆ radiostar is playin': on melancholy hill by gorillaz

warnings: none!

a/n: hi! i read your two posts and saw that you finally leaned towards headcanons. don't worry, it's okay, baby. Anyway! i have some experience in this because i had a classmate who was also half-deaf so here we go. If i make any mistakes, please let me know, okay? thank you for putting your trust in me. i hope you are very well.

— kisses from the hypothetical planet vulcan. 🧡

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

he was like boom in love and love pushes you to do things you never thought of doing, right?

At first, he's scared of messing things up with you, as if him being clumsy in love wasn't enough. He didn't want to offend you in any way, so he practically searched every corner of the library. You got him to read! And this fool never reads because it's hard for him, but there he was, researching about the topic.

He's definitely the type who always tries to help because he knows it can be tough sometimes, so when you have to go out in public, he makes sure to hold your hand tightly and NEVER let go.

He always positions himself on the good ear side so you can hear him better, and he gets even closer to you if there's too much noise around.

When he arrives somewhere and you don't see him immediately, he tries to make it noticeable that someone else has arrived, so he doesn't startle you.

But this guy is sometimes a teaser, and when you both reach that level of trust, he'll say things from afar knowing you won't hear well, but only because what he's saying is embarrassing

"I love you, I'm going to marry you, and I'm warning you from now on," he says from the entrance, and you deal with just seeing his lips move and hearing halfway.

You squint and shout, "What?!" and he laughs, so you show him the middle finger. "Idiot, you know I can't hear you."

Leo rushes towards you, and after giving you a kiss on the cheek, he whispers gently in your ear: "i'm sayin that one day your last name will be Valdez," and well, you end up as red as the forges he works in.

If you're the one who enters while he's working in the bunker or wherever he is, he immediately puts down the tools and gives you his full attention. This is also because he wants to make sure there are no loud noises when you're around. Sometimes you tell him it's not necessary for him to stop, but he does it anyway.

Although, if you insist, he'll look for the ear protectors he bought/made for you and ask you to wear them because he wants to keep you safe. Both of you might be wearing them, and even though he's working with dangerous, heavy materials, he can't help but steal glances with that loving gaze of his. Because oh gods, he fell so hard for you.

Even when both are alone, to talk to you, he gets close to the point where your foreheads are touching and gazes fixed on each other. You tell him he can back off a bit, and he shakes his head while giving you a kiss on the nose. "I know, but I still want to be close to you."

When there's not much noise on the street that could be dangerous, he chooses to walk with you arm in arm, continuing to tell you things and talk nonsense that makes you laugh.

Leo doesn't like going to hospitals much, but if he has to accompany you to your regular check-ups, he will, or he'll tell you that Will Solace is a very good doctor.

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear every night, to let you know he loves you.

Here comes a huge confession from Leo Valdez, he's definitely working on a device that could help you. With the help of the Apollo cabin, he thinks he could pull it off, and he's just refining it every day to improve your life because he simply wants the best for you. Even if he ultimately has to scrap it, he'll look for other types of gadgets he can create to help you.

Although he knows you can manage, Leo feels good and proud to be able to help the person he loves. You're the one who made him explore that part of himself where he looks out for your emotional and physical well-being.

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#leo valdez #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x reader #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo x reader #riordanverse #leo valdez headcanons #leo valdez fanfic

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citrus-lamb · 2 days

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HEY UHH CNA I REQUEST?

Logan x reader but the reader is very good at martial arts

So like maybe a headcannon or a story?...

a/n : hello! i got a little too into the story so it's pretty long, but i hope you enjoy! i tried my best with the martial arts thing, but the language could be wrong so i do apologize for that! it might be a bit ooc, as i'm trying to write these characters still. i enjoyed writing this, so i hope you enjoy reading it!

song : unspoken (dex)

Arcades are generally boring. You wouldn’t pick this place to hang out with the group, but everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, so you didn’t mind that much. You were zoning out, staring at the group and making sure no one got hurt.

“Hey, are you alright?” Logan asked, stepping away to talk to you. Your head snapped to him, being brought out of your thoughts quite quickly.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just bored.

“HEY GUYS! LET’S DO THIS ONE!” Aiden screamed, pointing towards a boxing-style game.

“Nevermind.”

The entire group decided to try the machine, just for the fun of it. Ben’s score was impressive, Ashlyn’s was good and so was Tyler’s. The group cheered you on as you stood in front of the machine. You hit it with your fist as hard as you good, and ended up with a score that rivaled Ben’s.

“WOO!” Aiden cheered. He slung his arm around you and started bragging. You saw Logan smile in the corner of your eye, and you smiled back. You heard the door of the arcade click open. Barron and his goons stood at the entrance.

Logan soon noticed this as well, going from watching Aiden bury himself in tickets to sweating over the fact that Barron was here.

Let’s be clear. You hated Barron. If there wasn’t any repercussions he’d already be in a ditch somewhere because of you. You would fight him over and over again to make sure Logan would never have to deal with that bastard. And you would win every. single. fight.

You watched him exit out the door, a shy kid in a blue hat trailing behind. That kid almost reminded you of Logan. That made you more angry. Fists clenched, almost snarling at the door they just left from. Oh, Lord, you thought, Hold me back.

“…I want to at least warn him.” Logan said.

“Well, go do what you gotta do.” Tyler said, “We’ll be here to help you if you need it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want anyone to come with you?” You asked, unsure about this whole idea.

“Actually… Could you come with?”

“Of course!”

You opened the door and held it open for Logan, allowing him to go first. You didn’t want to speak for him—as he was getting better at standing up for himself every day. This was a step in the right direction, you just wanted to make sure Barron didn’t pull a stunt you could prevent.

“Haha, wow! That caught me off guard. I never would’ve expected to see you here, four eyes. And who’s this lovely person you got with you?” Barron said.

You clenched your fists—almost enough to make you cut through your skin—and stared straight into his soul. Logan looked nervous. About Barron? About you starting a fight where there didn’t need to be one? Logan wasn’t stupid. He saw your score at the boxing machine. He saw you training with Ashlyn’s parents. You mentioned to him once that you had martial arts experience. He had seen it first hand. If a fight started, Barron wouldn’t be the one winning. He might not even make it out alive.

“It’s been a while, pal, how’ve ya been?” Barron smiled, as if he didn’t bully the shit out of Logan every day for at least a year.

Logan ignored Barron, turning towards the kid in the blue hat. You continue to glare daggers into Barron from where you were standing. “My name’s Logan.”

“Oh… I’m Noah.”

“…Is he making you do his homework? Because you shouldn’t have to do that.”

“H-he’s not making me… He just asked for help.”

“And you felt guilty saying no, right?” The conversation Logan was having with Noah faded into the background as you watched Barron intently. You watched him get up from the trashcan and walk over to Logan.

“Who do you think you are, twerp? Stop interfering.” Barron started jabbing Logan’s head, and continued, “You’re just a useless loser whose parents didn’t even want you.”

You stepped forward, ready to axe-kick this guy to the floor and beat him to a pulp, but Logan didn’t need your help. He swatted Barron’s hand away, “I’m useless? When you’re the one that refuses to do your own work and forces others to do it for you?” Chills ran down your spine at Logan’s words. “When you so pathetically waste others’ time while they are actually working for a better life?”

He was practically shouting now, “When you have nothing to give, not even a simple thanks?! You only take and harass and look down on others! If anyone here is truly and utterly useless it’s—”

Barron grabbed Logan’s hair and pushed him away, bringing up his arm to throw a punch at Logan. Logan quickly twisted him and threw him face-first into the concrete. His hands were pinned to his back by Logan. Barron struggled to get out of Logan’s grip. The lights flickered. You panicked.

“I think it’d be wise for you to start caring.” Logan said.

This place felt like the phantom realm all of a sudden. You turned to the door that opened with more of Barron’s friends. They held him back but you were at your limit. Logan can’t get himself out of everything. Ben felt the same as you watched him come out from behind a wall and grab the red-head’s face. You performed a quick back kick on the blonde.

Full hell broke loose.

The group was fighting others, and you were taking on upwards of three people at a time. Your teacher always taught you that violence was never the answer, but you disagree. You were kicking and hitting with more precision than ever before—even better than when you were in class.

You heard a scream sounding like Ashlyn. She fell to the floor gripping her ears, headphones scattered across the pavement. You ran over to her, defending yourself from Barron’s goons as you went. You grabbed her headphones as she screamed, “CALM DOWN!”

Barron and his friends left quickly after. You gave Ashlyn her headphones back and beelined to Logan. “Are you okay? You’re not too badly hurt right? I wanted to help you more but you did amazing on your own so—”

“I’m alright, don’t worry. But, you’re bleeding.”

“…Fuck.”

#sbg x reader #sbg #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard x reader #logan fields x reader

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