#Hey Honey! Are you still writing music? How are you? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

borathae · 3 months ago

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↳ Index [Day 09 - Shower Sex]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Namjoon x sub f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Idol!Namjoon

Kinks: clothed sex (he doesn’t bother to undress before he joins her), he wears a suit, cunnilingus, body worship, praise, good girl kink, vaginal fingering, slight strength & muscle kink, blowjob, edging (m.receiving), vaginal penetrative sex, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), creampie, mentions of having dirty fantasies all day, he is so obsessed with her, cuddly & loving aftercare

Wordcount: 3.2k

a/n: at some point, all i could picture was Nanami in the hair pulling scene like this is how i pictured Joon to look in his wet shirt jdjfaj make with this information what you want. i also notice a pattern with my Joon girlies, you guys really wanna see him in a shower jdfsjf

Namjoon had a long day at the office. He had interviews to hold, had lyrics to write and meetings to attend. It was an exhausting, tiring day, but that all starts to lessen the moment the apartment door falls in its lock behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” he calls out and begins taking off his outside clothes.

You don’t come running to greet him, which wasn’t such a surprising thing to happen, but this evening he is sad about it. It would have cheered him up a lot to be greeted by you. But alas, he has to wander through the house in search for you. Your hobby room is already cleaned up for the day and you laid out a few restaurant menus for dinner. Namjoon flips through the options, deciding on a jjajangmyeon place in the end. He leaves his bag by the dining table and calls out for you again.

You don’t answer him, but he is starting to get a gist of where you are. His latest album is playing from the direction of the bathroom. Namjoon smiles as he makes his way to you. You like to deny it but Namjoon always calls you his biggest fan. There are too many occasions where he comes home to you listening to his music and it always does something to him. Tonight it makes him crave every breath you take and every syllable you could ever mutter.

He knocks.

“Joon, is that you?” you call out and turn the music down.

“Yes, it’s me baby”, Namjoon confirms, “I know you’re showering right now, but can I come in?”

“It’s open.”

Namjoon slips into the bathroom, letting the door fall closed. You turned off the water for now, spreading soap on your skin. The air smells floral and good. Namjoon inhales deeply, feeling his chest lighten. This is your scent.

“Hey there baby, how was your day?” you ask him.

“I’m just glad that it’s over. I had to deal with too many fucking idiots.”

“I’m sorry to hear this. Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head, “just keep showering, I’m okay just looking at you.”

You chuckle, “okay, if you say so”, you say and turn your back to him so you could wash off the soap. You do so with the rain shower, using the opportunity to wet your hair as well. Your eyes are closed for it so you have no idea what Namjoon is doing until you suddenly feel two hands on your waist.

You smile, turning with your hands instantly seeking his chest.

“Huh?” You open your eyes. No Namjoon in front of you. “Baby?”

“Down here.”

You look down. Namjoon is kneeling in front of you, still dressed in his office suit which is now getting wet. He also didn’t bother to take off his glasses, looking up at you past their foggy, watery lenses. His clothes are already sticking to his sculpted body, especially around his chest and arms the fabric is stretching.

“What are you doing? You’re getting your clothes wet”, you gasp and try to turn the water off.

“I’m already wet, just let me have a taste, baby. Please”, he begs.

“Do you mean that?” your heart is racing.

“Yes, please. All I thought of today was you. You kept me sane as much as you drove me crazy. I want you so much I can barely breathe.”

“Holy fuck, Joon”, you get out. You reach out to at least take off his glasses, placing them on the soap stand for now. Then you nod your head.

“Thank you. Baby, holy fuck”, he moans and pulls you closer. He connects his puffy lips with your lower stomach, kissing every inch of it while his masculine hands are running along your back.

You are terribly sensitive on your stomach so having him kiss you with such devotion is making your skin feel electric. You sigh his name, gasping each time he sucks on your skin gently.

“You smell so good. I’m addicted to you, baby”, he purrs in this terribly deep and seductive voice of his’. He dances his nose over your skin until his lips are on your hip bone. You are especially tender there and Namjoon worships it with eager kisses and languid licks.

“Joon, this”, you get out, following it with a quiet moan. If he wasn’t holding you in his strong arms like this, you would already crumble.

Namjoon purrs and kisses a way to your other side to repeat what he did. He wants you to feel worshipped everywhere, not one ounce of your perfect body should feel left out. The thought of holding you, touching you, was everything that kept him going today. He spoke of new music and answered the tiring questions of the uncreative interviewers with utter professionalism, but in his mind he was undressing you and making you arch your back. He listened to the egotistical, greedy ideas of the company and tried to redirect them in the most respectful of ways, but in his mind he was burying his fingers in your warm walls and making you scream his name. You were the very thing that kept him going today, so he truly wants to savour you now that he finally truly has you.

He lifts his lips from your well-loved skin, making himself taller by lifting his butt from his feet. His tender hands dance up your back as he goes, his eyes never leave your face. Once he truly straightened up, he reaches you just under your breasts, resting his chin against the spot.

“My motherfucking muse”, he says, voice vibrating in his chest.

You smile, although drunkenly, and run your fingers through his wet hair. It sticks to his face so prettily, glides through your fingers like it was made to be touched by you. Namjoon closes his eyes and smiles, body tingling from the touch.

“Yeah, you seriously are”, he decides in a raspy whisper, moving his head to kiss your upper stomach. He slides his hands to your sides, guiding them down as he kisses a trail to your heat.

“Joon, oh god”, you croak, chasing his lips needily. You really want him to use his mouth on your aching pussy. You can’t take much more.

“What do you need, my baby?” he asks, voice tickling your skin.

“Your mouth, please.”

“Mhhm, you’re so sweet when you beg for me”, he lulls, fulfilling your wish gladly. He tilts his head back and connects his mouth with your heaven. He parts you with the help of his tongue by flicking it through your folds slowly and with thought behind his movements. The way you sigh his name and grip his hair is so fucking addicting. The way you close your eyes and tilt your head back will always be his most favourite view.

When you are like this, he wants to make you feel so good. He exists just for your pleasure, feeding on your every reaction.

He connects his fingers with your pussy, massaging your entrance while his tongue circles your clit.

“Yes, please”, you beg, hips stuttering in anticipation.

Namjoon pushes into you, moaning with you as he fills you out. So warm and soft. The real sensations will always be so much better than any fantasy ever could. Namjoon closes his eyes, purring your name as his tongue makes sweet love to your clit. He pumps his fingers in and out of you carefully, helping you get used to having him with you again.

“Joon, please don’t stop”, you croak, dropping your back against the shower wall just so you can arch it. You lift your right leg and put it over his shoulder, keeping him closer like this. You open up so much better for him and Namjoon takes it eagerly. He growls into you, lips and tongue working together to devour your sweet clit while his fingers curl inside you in search for your favourite spot. He knows your body blindly, so it only takes him a moment before he has you arching your back again as you moan his name, walls throbbing round his long digits.

“There, Joon”, you whimper, twisting his hair.

Namjoon growls into you, curling his fingers right where you need it most. Your clit is throbbing under his tongue, growing in size. He swears that he feels high. You are so sweet and so hot.

He drops his other hand from your waist and begins rubbing himself over his soaked slacks. His cock is so hard and swollen, twitching into his palm as he tries to make it easier to bear. His mind is running wild with fantasies of you. He is taking you against the wall, bending you over and taking you from behind, carrying you as the water soaks you and it’s driving him insane. His mind is his own worst enemy and he only realises that he began taking out his frustrations on you when you wail up with shaking knees.

“This is making me cum! Joon! Please!”

Namjoon comes back to reality. His fingers picked up speed, making angry love to your cunt and his mouth is making out with your clit sloppily. He became a little rough with you, bringing you close like this.

Namjoon growls because that is all he can do and keeps the rhythm going, rubbing himself faster as well. He peels his eyes open, keeping you pinned in a dark, hungry look.

“Namjoon! Ah!” you moan and arch off the wall, grabbing his head with both hands and closing your leg around him tighter as you break on his fingers.

Namjoon helps you through it with a dizzy head and his cock throbbing in his slacks. By the way you shake and scream, it is one of the more intense ones. He loves them because of how fucking honest they are. Not that you ever have to fake your orgasms with him. Namjoon plays your body as well as he plays his fucking music, he pays attention to you as well as he does to the words he writes. You are his most beloved artwork and the one he takes care of the very best. Orgasms with him are never fake, but damn, sometimes they’re just so intense you swear you pass out for a second.

This right now is one of those orgasms and as it dies down you have to tug him off of you because you were just too sensitive.

“Break please, too much”, you beg.

“Mhm good girl”, he lulls, redirecting his lips to kissing your inner thigh and his fingers to hold your leg.

“You are so mean. Why did you make me cum like this?” you whine, panting heavily.

Namjoon lets out one of his deep chuckles, smirking against your skin, “because your pleasure is important to me. You know that it is.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day”, you say and chuckle breathily, “fuck.”

“Mhm, yeah”, he purrs and sets down your leg carefully. He begins standing up, kissing a path up your body as he does until he is face to face with you. He cradles your cheeks, pulling you into a kiss. Just by the way his lips move against yours and how he can’t seem to stay quiet, you know that he is still hungry for more.

You break the kiss, giggling when he chases you needily.

“Do you want more?”

“Can you take more?”

“What a question, Joonie”, you say, playing with his hair.

“Fuck baby”, he sighs, dropping his forehead against yours, “I want you like I want coffee in the morning.”

“Mhm, my poet”, you purr playfully and drop to your knees.

“What are you doing?” he gasps, knees buckling as he watches you open his slacks. You tug them over his butt together with his briefs. His cock jumps free, slapping his stomach and making him moan in relief. The volume of his sounds grows as you sink him into your mouth a second later.

“Wait woah”, he yelps, gripping your head with both hands, “wait, wait, wait. Stop.”

You let him pull you off, allowing your drool to drip out of you.

“Don’t do that”, he hisses.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m too sensitive.”

You giggle, melting his heart with the sound of it, “and? Just try not to cum too soon”, you say and take him back inside. You make puppy eyes up at him, moaning around his cock and bopping your head back and forth.

Namjoon scrunches his face, wobbling so much that he ends up having to seek support on the wall. His arm tenses, stretching the fabric of his shirt. His wet hair hangs into his face like this, the water trickles down his big body. You mewl because of the view, sliding your hand to his balls to play with them as you fuck his cock with your throat. When you are like this with him, you have no gag reflex, no desire to breathe. Everything you exist for and need is his cock deep in your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re too much”, Namjoon lulls, deep voice even deeper. He pets your head gently, scrunching his nose and following it with an angry, “fuck.”

You mewl, sliding off of him enough that you can circling your tongue around him as you suck him greedily. The combination of your wet tongue and the intense sucking, makes his knees buckle.

“Shit baby”, he curses, dropping his other hand on the tiles as well. He falls to his elbows, head hanging between his arms and lips parted as the deepest moans roll of his tongue. He can’t even look at you anymore, eyes squeezed shut and brows tightened.

He turns you on so much. You massage his balls needily, sinking more of him back into your willing mouth. You have so much drool inside you that his girth fucks it out of you, forcing it to drip down your chin. You don’t mind the mess when it means making Namjoon moan like this.

“Baby, you’re too much”, he purrs, hips twitching each time you bottom out. It feels so good. All he fantasised about today was you and how it would be to pleasure you. His own body fell short in his fantasies, so to have you suck his cock like this, overwhelms him in the best way possible. You are so warm, so soft and so fucking sloppy. He could cum in your mouth, he knows you would like that. He would just have to let go, to give in, to give up control over his body. He could do it. Right now. Just do it.

“No baby, don’t”, he stops you, pulling you off his aching cock.

“Why?” you mewl, pouting at him. Your lips are puffy from use, your nose is a little snotty.

“I can’t cum in your mouth.”

“Yes, you can. Please”, you say and stick out your tongue.

“No, baby”, he denies you, cradling your cheek, “stand up.”

You obey his order, letting him pull you to your feet just by holding your cheek. He presses you against the wall, keeping one arm around you. Like this, you rest on it while he finds support by leaning his elbow against the wall.

“Put your leg around me.”

You obey.

“That’s it. Keep looking at me.”

“Joon”, you whimper, having to writhe as his cock breaches your dripping cunt.

“Keep looking at me, baby. Keep fucking looking at me.”

“Joon oh god.”

“Hurts?”

“No, just…gonna cum on your cock again. Feels so good.”

“Mhm, it does. Baby, your pussy is where I fucking belong”, he purrs and bottoms out. He picks up a passionate, deep rhythm instantly, tasting your moans and feeling you shake, “that’s where I’m supposed to pump my fucking load. Deep inside you, claiming you, making you mine. Fuck baby, all I thought of today was fucking you deep and slow.”

“Joon”, you whimper, hands unable to decide whether you want to clutch his broad shoulders or twist his hair.

“Keep moaning my name like this, good girl. What a fucking good girl you are”, he purrs, making hot love to you with his eyes just as much as he does with his perfect cock. The way he has you angled and how he pulls you closer with each thrust, allows his tip to fuck against your g-spot each time he bottoms out. Your clit rubs against his stomach like this and sometimes when you arch your back, your nipples rub against his clothed chest. If there is one word to describe how he makes you feel it would be enchanted because every single fiber of you exists for him and his magic touch.

“I’m yours”, you croak, fingers finally gripping his hair to twist it. You cannot take it any other way.

“You are, baby. Mine. All mine to fuck and fantasise about and fucking love. Mine. My woman”, he rasps, fucking into you in deep, long strokes with each word. It shakes you, ruins you to the very core. You thought that his mouth and fingers are your damnation but you were wrong. This is it. Sensitive from you first orgasm, riled up from sucking his cock and now cradled against his strong body as he pumps his cock into you, you find your second orgasm of the evening.

You sob into him, clutching him for dear life while he holds you safely. His hips never slow down, helping you reach highs you never thought able to reach.

“Good girl, cum on my cock. My good girl, scream my name like this, yes that’s it”, he talks you through it because he always does. If his mouth wasn’t preoccupied with making you cum, he always makes sure to make you cum with it another way. There isn’t one orgasm with him where he doesn’t talk you through your shakes and whimpers.

Tonight it makes you tense up so vigorously that Namjoon finds no strength to go on.

“Can I cum inside?” he gets out.

“Yes, please”, you whimper, hugging him tighter.

“___”, he moans and breaks, finally reaching the kind of heaven he craved for all day. He pumps into you in sloppy, quick ruts, growling into your neck and holding you against him as tightly as possible. This is everything he wanted and more and once he finally comes down, he feels shaken to the core.

He holds you, kissing whatever part of your body he can reach.

“Baby, my baby, oh my baby. I love you, I fucking missed you, oh baby. How are you? Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck, I love you”, he babbles, carrying his heart on his palms.

“I love you too, baby. I feel so good and you didn’t hurt me”, you say.

“But you’re shaking, baby was I too rough?”

“No, just shaking because it was intense. And ‘cause I’m a little cold.”

“You are? Oh baby, I’m sorry. Let’s dry up and cuddle on the couch, yeah?”

“Mhm yeah”, you move your head so you can look into his eyes. You smile, wiping his hair out of his face.

He leans into the touch, feeling star struck. He is so happy to be yours.

“I can’t believe you horndog didn’t even bother to undress.”

“I was so horny, you have no idea.”

You giggle, “you’re cute.”

He smiles, “what do you think of Jjajangmyeon? I saw the menus outside.”

“Sounds amazing. They taste especially well after shower creampies.”

“Shut up”, he says, suddenly feeling shy.

“Never”, you tease, chuckling fondly as you pull him into an adoring kiss.

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stevie-petey · 2 months ago

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episode five: the nina project

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.” “Five more minutes?” “Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home. Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

Summary: you and dustin steal pancakes to spite ted wheeler, steve just wants one morning of peace, nancy takes you to a haunted house, cobwebs are surprisingly intimate to remove from someone, and vecna decides to play flashlight tag with everyone. hes so sweet :)

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: mentions of blood, panic attack, , swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 7.2k

Before you swing in: hey gang ! i present chapter 5, aka my least favorite ep of season 4 </3 however, she was very fun to write and i enjoyed twisting some scenes together ;) enjoy, thank yall for waitin !

–

“Hey, bee.”

The line is quiet.

You sound tired, you know Jonathan will hear the exhaustion in your voice, and he’ll worry.

“I, uh. I miss you.” And you do.

You’re in the Wheeler’s kitchen, Nancy and the others are down in the basement, trying to pretend that tonight they’ll fall asleep. The reality is that you’re all too afraid to fall asleep. The terror of what could happen in the dark ensures this.

Steve sits on the counter across from you. He stares down at his hands, picks at his nails. He doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to tell Jonathan. When you demanded to call him, Steve had originally denied you. He didn’t understand why you’d want to talk to him or why you’d risk not having your walkman on after what happened with Max.

But then you’d broken down into tears and Steve gave in.

“Listen, I know we haven’t talked in a while.” To think that four days without hearing Jonathan’s voice is now considered a while saddens you. For years you couldn’t go more than a few hours without his voice. “But, um. It’s been… it’s been awful, without you.”

I could die tomorrow and I can’t remember what your hand felt like within mine.

A tear falls down your face and you wipe it away. You’re so tired of crying. “I don’t… I don’t know how much you remember, the last time we spoke. I just-I’ve had the worst week of my life and I could really use your voice right now.”

Jonathan is still the one you run to. He always will be.

The line remains quiet.

“Please, can you just… call me? I–” breath catching in your throat, you choke on the words that simmer on your tongue. “I’m really scared, bee.”

This is the first time you’ve ever spoken the words out loud. They’re whispered, they come out hushed, as if afraid someone will overhear and call you weak.

The voicemail line beeps, indicating that you’ve used up all your time to record the message. Numb, you place the phone against the wall.

Steve looks up, sensing the conversation as drawn to a close. He stands up and wraps you in his arms. You’re cold to the touch. It unnerves him. You’ve always been so warm, so full of heat. “Did he… what did Jonathan say?”

Your head drops against his chest. “He didn’t answer. Voicemail.”

“Oh.”

The silence drags on a painfully long time. You reside in Steve’s arms, seeking comfort in whatever touch you allow from him. Your headphones, which rest against your neck, dig into Steve’s uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, he taps them with his finger. “Music?”

You nod, too tired to fight him. Ever since the cemetery, Steve and Dustin have insisted that you never take your headphones off. Music is what saved Max; they’re convinced they can keep you out of harm’s reach if you listen to your favorite song as well.

“The tape, please?” You mumble softly to Steve, slowly lifting your arm to point to the kitchen table.

Understanding what you’re asking, he quickly lets go of you to retrieve it. Grabbing the old tape, his fingers find your walkman buried in your pocket. Steve puts the tape inside, eyes skimming over the writing that resides on it.

For bug.

“Will you ever tell Nancy?” He finds himself asking, unaware that the question had even been on his mind.

It was only days ago that Steve’s biggest problem had been Jonathan’s vague question of “what if”. Now he stands in Nancy’s kitchen, cradling your body, wondering just how many more hours he has left with you.

You rub your head tiredly. “I will, it’s just…”

I could be dead by tomorrow.

The words go unsaid, hanging in the air between you and Steve.

He stares down at you. Guilt twists in his chest. He’s caught between you and Nancy, between saving you and sparing you. A strand of hair falls in your eyes. Steve brushes it aside, his cracked lips press against your forehead.

“Hey,” Lucas stands awkwardly by the kitchen counter. He looks between you and Steve, a sad, yet nervous look in his eyes. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Max told me to come get you, Y/N.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask worriedly, stepping out of Steve’s arms.

Lucas sees your worry and immediately raises his hands. “She’s fine, she’s just five seconds away from murdering Dustin. He keeps trying to turn her music all the way up and it’s hurting her ears.”

A ghost of a smile crosses your face. In his own, albeit flawed way, Dustin is trying to show how much he cares for you and Max. “I’ll talk to him.”

While Lucas nods with relief, you kiss Steve’s cheek and wish him a soft goodbye. The two boys are left alone in the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler have long since gone to bed. Holly, too.

Steve clears his throat. Lucas hasn’t left yet, and Steve doesn’t really know what to do. It’s been an exhausting few days. All he wants to focus on right now is you; already your absence makes his body weak.

“How do you do it?” Lucas is so quiet that Steve almost doesn’t hear him at first.

“What?”

“How do you do it?” Lucas asks again, this time with more urgency in his voice. He’s looking at Steve, his body stoic. There are tears in his eyes, though Steve doesn’t say anything. “How can you love Y/N and not want her to die?”

The question stuns Steve.

Lucas stares up at him and for a moment he looks like the twelve year old kid he met all those years ago. Only now he’s fifteen, taller than ever before, and he’s experienced more loss than any kid ever should.

Steve forgets, sometimes. How young they all are.

He sighs. “Look, Lucas–”

“I don’t think I can do it.” The boy leans against the counter, his entire body weight threatens to collapse. “I just, I love Max so much. And seeing her today… she almost-she almost–”

Lucas inhales suddenly. He doesn’t allow himself to cry, he doesn’t want Max to see the tear stains later. He shakes his head, instead. “What do you do, when the person you live for is already set on dying?”

Steve wants to tell him that you and Max aren’t dying. He wants to tell the teen that they’ve faced worse monsters than Vecna. They’ve escaped Russian lairs and navigated tunnels rooted with poisonous particles. They saved Will, closed a gate that was an endless abyss.

But none of it amounts to the loss they’d feel if you and Max died; Lucas is the only one who truly understands this.

So Steve doesn’t lie to him.

Instead, he says, “You hold their hand.”

And that’s all they can do.

–

Everyone takes turns watching over you and Max that night. It was Nancy’s idea, one you were entirely against.

“Max is the one who had the vision, I don’t need you guys–”

“Shut up, Y/N.”

The argument was over before it even really began. Dustin had shoved your headphones back on and turned the volume so high that you nearly winced. Steve laughed before dragging you over to the couch and forcing you to lay with him.

“I’ll be first watch for Y/N.”

Robin had rolled her eyes. “I know death is like, totally evident. But you disgust me.”

Soft laughter rippled through everyone, but soon the shadows fell and night took over. Despite your protesting and insistence that the Beatles would keep you up all night, you somehow fall asleep against Steve’s chest.

It’s the first time you’ve slept through the night in weeks.

–

You wake up to Nancy shouting at Dustin.

“Then where is she?” She exclaims, shaking his shoulders.

Still half asleep, it takes you a few moments to understand what’s going on. “Where’s who?” You ask through a yawn, rubbing your eyes.

“Max!” Nancy glares at your brother. “She isn’t down here, Dustin was supposed to keep watch.”

Your heart stops. Immediately you sit up, ignoring Steve’s groaning as you forcefully shove against his chest to stand. Even though you roughly pull from his grasp, he’s back asleep in seconds. “What do you mean she isn’t here?”

“I swear I just dozed off for like…” Dustin looks down at his watch, worried and guilty, and his face pales when he realizes what he’s done. “An hour.”

“Dustin!” You screech, now panicking as well. Before he can say anything else, you’re already running up the steps to find Max. Nancy follows close behind. “I swear to God, if she’s hurt–”

Max sits at the dining room table, head down with her headphones on. You and Nancy let out heavy sighs of relief while Dustin rolls his eyes in annoyance.

Mrs. Wheeler greets you in the kitchen. “Good morning, guys!” When she notices you holding your chest, she frowns slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Nancy breathes out, her own nerves finally settling. “Everything’s… okay.”

“Very okay.” You chime in, forcing a happy smile on your face. Pointing to the pancakes on the stove, you hum with gratitude. “Especially now that I know you’ve made your famous pancakes, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Aw, you’re very kind, Y/N.” The woman gushes. She grabs a plate and starts piling the pancakes on. “Here, take as many as you’d like. You know, I think it’s sweet that you guys are sticking together like this.”

Mr. Wheeler flicks his newspaper with a huff. “Could try sticking together at a different house for a change.”

Nancy ignores her father and walks towards where Max is sitting. You and Dustin share a look, both of you despise the man. Shoving a pancake into your mouth, you moan dramatically. “But where else would I get such fantastic food, Ted?”

He glares at you while Mrs. Wheeler chuckles. “You know you kids are welcomed here anytime.”

“Totally, you’re like family.” Dustin smiles kindly at her before pointing to the remaining, untouched pancakes. “May I?”

Mrs. Wheeler readily offers your brother a plate and he eagerly starts stacking as much as food as he can. You grab a few more pancakes for yourself; they’ve always been your favorite. Mr. Wheeler notices you grabbing more and he narrows his eyes. “Yeah, why not? Take us for all we’re worth.”

“You heard the man.” You nod at Dustin, catching his eye.

Understanding immediately, your brother smiles even wider. “Okay!”

Together, the two of you grab the remaining stack of pancakes and throw them onto your plates. Mr. Wheeler watches in disdain, his coffee cup raised just before his mouth. Seeing the mug, you gasp. “Oh! Mrs. Wheeler, could I possibly bother you for some coffee as well? I know Mr. Wheeler really values his expensive roast, but with everything happening this week…”

You stare up at the woman, eyes wide and innocent. Mrs. Wheeler places a hand against her heart and coos at you. “Oh, of course you can have some of Ted’s coffee, honey. Let me fix it right up for you.”

“You’re too kind.” You thank her, shoving yet another pancake into your mouth. Speaking through the food, you turn to her husband. “Thanks, Ted!”

Dustin snickers while the man clenches his jaw. Satisfied, you make your way over to the table and join Max and Nancy.

“Holly let me borrow some of her crayons.” Max explains as you sit down. There are papers scattered all over the table. “We’ve been having fun all morning, right, Holly?”

The young girl hums in agreement, not looking up from her Lite Brite. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, Holly.” You pinch her cheek, causing her to giggle. It’s rare to see Holly outside of the Wheeler house. You’ve babysat her a few times over the years, and she enjoys the cookies you make, but your interactions have always been limited. She seems to like you though, which pleases you. “Can I draw as well?”

Holly nods enthusiastically and quickly hands you a crayon and paper. “Here!”

“Thank you,” you accept the blue crayon and start to doodle something, keeping the girl distracted. As she colors with you, you finally look at the drawings that litter the table.

When your eyes land on them, you forget how to breathe for a moment. They’re horrible, filled with blood red. Ruined landscapes surround bodies wrapped in vines. The figures are twisted, disjointed.

“You drew these, Max?” The thought terrifies you.

“Is this what you saw last night?” Nancy asks softly, her expression mirrors your horrified one.

Max shifts uncomfortably. “It’s supposed to be. I, uh. Thought it’d be easier to draw it out than to explain it, but… not so much.”

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe out, reaching across the table to grab her hand.

Nancy touches one of the drawings, this one depicting Fred’s and Chrissy’s corpses. “Is that…?”

“It was like they were on display or something.”

You nearly gag. “Oh, my God.”

Max doesn’t look at you. “And then there was this red fog everywhere. It was like a dream. A nightmare.”

Nancy asks if Vecna could just be trying to scare her, but Max doesn’t seem sure. She explains how he originally used Billy, but last night felt different. “He seemed surprised, almost. Like he didn’t want me there.”

You frown at this. “Then that would mean Fred and Chrissy never made it to wherever you were. That Vecna didn’t take them there.”

“Maybe you infiltrated his mind.” Dustin offers as an explanation, now joining at the table. “He invaded your mind, right? Is it that big of a leap to suggest you somehow wound up in his?”

“It makes sense,” you bite your lip, abandoning the drawing you were working on with Holly.

“Like Freddie Krueger’s boiler room.” Dustin adds, oddly excited about the idea. When Holly doesn’t understand the reference, your brother readily explains. “He’s a super burned-up dude with razors for fingers.”

“Dustin,” you try to get his attention, worried he’ll frighten the kid.

But of course he continues. “And he kills you in your dreams–”

“Dustin.” It takes smacking his head to finally shut him up. He yelps in pain, cowering, but you glare at him. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

“She wanted to know about Freddie Krueger!”

“She’s a kid.”

“But–”

You hit Dustin’s shoulder this time. “Apologize and tell Holly that Freddie Krueger isn’t real.”

After begrudgingly apologizing to Holly and explaining that it’s all just a movie, Dustin adjusts his hat and continues the conversation from earlier. “Anyways, just think about it. What if Max somehow unlocked a backdoor to Vecna’s world?”

“You mean, like another gate?” You’re so tired of goddamn gates.

Dustin shrugs. “Possibly? Who knows, maybe the answer we’re looking for is somewhere in this incredibly vague drawing.” He stares down at the picture he’s picked up and scowls. “God, we need Will.”

“For his artistic abilities or his connection to the Upside Down?” You ask, looking around the table. “Because either way, I agree.”

Max shakes her head, annoyed. “I tried calling them again this morning, but it’s the same busy signal.”

“I wasn’t able to get through last night, either.” You admit, watching with slight curiosity as Nancy starts compiling all the drawings. “Anything catching your eye, Wheeler?”

“Is this a window?” She asks Max, who quickly says yes. “Stained glass with roses?”

Max perks up. “Yeah. See? I’m not so terrible after all.”

Sipping your coffee, you wave the mug at her, unconvinced. “Your composition could use some work.”

She glares at you, but Nancy doesn’t pay attention to any of it. Instead, she starts sorting through the drawings with vigor. “Well, it helps that I’ve seen it before.”

Before anyone can question what she means, Nancy starts folding pieces together and arranging them. At first you’re confused. You don’t understand what she’s trying to do. But as the pieces start to take shape and you recognize what she’s doing, you drop your crayon in shock.

“It’s pieces of a house.” Max realizes as well.

“Holy shit…”

Nancy grabs a marker and outlines the house’s shape. She fills in the windows, adds details that she shouldn’t know about. “Not just any house.”

She folds another drawing, careful with its edges. The drawing becomes a clock, its center the rose stained glass. Nancy drops the folded up grandfather clock in the center of the house she’s created. It lands with a quiet, yet final, thud.

Seeing the house unnerves you, and you shiver slightly. Nancy notices your unease and her eyes soften with dread. “It’s Victor Creel’s house.”

You suck in a breath and Nancy is already leaving the table. Dustin looks at you, confused, before calling out to her. “Where’re you going?”

“To wake the others.”

“I just wanted pancakes,” you mumble sadly, quickly shoving the breakfast aside so that you can follow after Nancy.

She’s already shaking Lucas awake by the time you catch up. Robin is slouched against the coffee table and you take pity on her. Nudging her softly, you ease her awake. “Hey, rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

“Why does my neck hurt?” She groans, eyes still closed.

You laugh. “Because you decided to sleep against a table, dummy.”

“Why’d you let me do that?”

“Blame Steve, not me.” You kiss her forehead, leaving her to wake up more on her own. Nancy has finally managed to rouse Lucas, so you turn to where Steve still sleeps soundly on the couch. He looks so young when he sleeps. His delicate features aren’t clouded by the worry he always seems to carry with him.

The morning sun seeps through the only window in the basement and basks against Steve’s face. He’s a warm honey-orange in the glow, and your chest constricts in a sickly sweet way that you’ve come to love. Walking over to him slowly, you press yourself against him and litter kisses across his face.

Steve scrunches his nose, surprised by your sudden body heat. “Y/N?”

“Nancy may have connected Victor Creel and Vecna.” You tell him in lieu of good morning.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times as he yawns. You don’t think he’s heard you, he’s never been a morning person. “What…?”

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.”

“Five more minutes?”

“Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home.

Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

You know that Nancy will be upset you’re taking so long, you know you should be next to Max, making sure her headphones are on, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from Steve. You know you’ve asked so much from him lately; expected more from Steve than you know he’s willing to give you. And so, for now, you indulge him, risking a kiss before the others see.

Steve kisses you back; he always kisses you back. His lips move against yours, languid and slow, and for a moment everything is okay again between you.

–

“Nancy, you know I trust your judgment,” you poke your head through the trunk’s gap and find the girl’s eyes in the rearview mirror. You’re in the back of the car with Steve and Dustin while Nancy drives. “But do we really have to do this?”

“It’s the only way we’ll get answers.” She sighs, although she also looks uneasy as her car comes to a stop. Nancy parks and everyone silently gets out.

In front of you is an old, dilapidated house. Its shutters are boarded up, the blue paint has long since chipped away and rusted over. The yard before it is a mess; weeds grow everywhere and old debris litters the green. No one has touched this house in years, maybe even decades.

“The Creel house,” you murmur to yourself. The wind around you picks up, a chill hangs in the air. Every nerve inside your body stands on edge, screaming at you to run away. There’s something ominous, dangerous even, about this house.

You don’t like any part of this.

“Yeah, that’s not creepy.” Steve voices what everyone is thinking.

Max sees your discomfort and she nudges you softly. “Hey, it’s just a stupid house.”

Shame washes over you. Max shouldn’t be the one offering comfort. It should be you reassuring her, not the other way around. Swallowing thickly, you nod at the girl before following the others.

When you get closer to the house, it becomes clear that you’ll have to break in. A padlock rests against the boarded up door. Nails are rusted into its wood, sealing the horrors within the house. Steve groans. “Oh, joy.”

“I brought hammers, we can try to pry the nails out.” Nancy says, as if it’s perfectly normal to bring hammers with you to a haunted house.

“Of course you brought hammers.”

Nancy ignores you and runs back to the car, quickly returning with the tools. She hands one to Steve, who wastes no time digging into the nails and pulling them out of the wood. Nancy joins him, but it’s an achingly slow process.

“What exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?” Steve grunts, pulling off yet another nail.

“We’re not sure,” Nancy admits, wincing slightly at a particularly difficult nail. “We just know this house is important to Vecna.”

“Sure, so let’s bring Max and Y/N to a place from Vecna’s red soup mind world.”

You flick Steve’s head, sending Nancy an apologetic frown. “He’s just upset he couldn’t sleep in today.”

“Maybe the house holds a clue to where Vecna is.” Dustin suggests. “Why he’s back, why he killed the Creels. And how to stop him before he comes back for Max, or before he tries to go after Y/N.”

“We’re stopping him before he comes back for Max.” You remind everyone, an edge in your voice.

The group is quiet for a moment. Steve and Nancy share a concerned look with one another, something unspoken passes between them. The look upsets you, but you don’t have time to care. Eventually the silence becomes too much for Lucas, and he hesitantly asks if anyone thinks Vecna is actually inside the house.

“Guess we’ll find out.” Max says, looking at you briefly. The last nail falls, and together Steve and Nancy pull the board off the doorframe. It lands with a loud thud on the porch, sending fallen leaves and dirt into the air.

You cough. “Christ.”

“Sorry, angel.” Steve looks remorseful, but you wave him off. He faces the door and twists the knob. It doesn’t budge. “Should I knock, see if anybody’s home?”

“No need,” Robin calls out, and it’s only then that you realize she’s no longer beside you but rather halfway in the front yard. She’s holding up a brick, a wicked smile on her face. “I found a key.”

“Oh dear God.” Your eyes widen. Steve tugs at your jacket as soon as Robin throws the brick. You fall against his chest, heart pounding. The stained glass shatters. Poking your head through the broken glass, you breathe out. “Nice, Robin.”

She bows. “I try.”

Steve gently pushes you aside so that he can reach his arm through the hole. He’s careful not to touch the jagged edges of the glass. Finding the knob on the other side, he twists it roughly, unlocking the door.

He’s the first to go in, and he lets out a low whistle. “Jesus.”

You follow after him, turning your flashlight on in the process. The stench of mildew is what you notice first. It’s poignant, intermixed with the scent of dust and discarded furniture. The house is filthy, covered in cobwebs; it’s practically frozen in time.

Lucas tries to turn a light on, but it’s useless. Everyone turns their flashlights on, and Steve looks around, bewildered. “Where’d everyone get those?”

Dustin turns to him and lets out a surprised huff when he realizes Steve doesn’t have anything in his hands. “Do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child.”

Steve stares at him and you roughly hit your brother’s chest. He can be such a jerk sometimes, you don’t understand where this shift has come from. “Don’t be such an asshole.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Steve accepts the spare flashlight you hand him while Dustin rubs the spot where you hit him, tossing his bag to the ground.

You walk deeper into the house, scanning your flashlight over the furniture strewn throughout. Draped cloth covers them. A mirror stands before you, its frame a rusted gold. You find a girl in its reflection, and for a moment you almost don’t recognize that it’s you.

“Hey, guys?” Max calls out to everyone, catching your attention. She’s standing in front of something, an uneasy look on her face. “You all see that, right?”

She’s pointing her flashlight at a grandfather clock. You stumble back when you see it, breath catching. The bones in your body scream at you to run away. “Is that…?”

You can’t bring yourself to finish the question, but Max understands anyways. She nods, eyes never leaving the grandfather clock, silently confirming that it’s the one she saw in her vision.

“I don’t like this.” You turn to the group. None of you should be here, you had no right to enter the abandoned house.

“C’mon, Y/N. I mean, it’s just a clock, right?” Robin shrugs half-heartedly. Before you can stop her, she steps closer to it and wipes her hand against its glass. Dust smears away. “Just an old clock.”

Steve isn’t convinced. “Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?”

“Please don’t call him a wizard.” If you’re going to die, you’d rather it be at the hand of some dangerous, other dimensional creature. Not a wizard.

“Sorry, but what if he’s like, I don’t know. A clockmaker or something?”

Dustin breathes heavily through his nose. “I think you cracked the case, Steve.”

“All I know is that the answers are here.” Nancy looks around, not sounding as convincing as she’d like. “Somewhere.”

“You really want us to stay here?” You ask her, slight resentment in your voice. You trust Nancy, you always have, but something feels wrong about all of this. There’s this voice, screaming in your head, to get out. To leave, never return; the voice won’t leave, and you’re afraid it’ll rip your skull to pieces soon.

Nancy offers you a reassuring smile. She understands your fear, that she’s asking a lot from you and Max right now. She’s placed you in the heart of the monster that wants you to die. “Everyone will stick together, no one will be alone. We’ll stay in groups. I promise.”

“But–”

“Robin, upstairs.” Nancy instructs, pointing towards the steps for the girl to follow her. They’re gone in seconds, already off on their own adventure yet again. Your throat feels gummy with fear.

Max grabs Lucas’ hand and rushes off without another word. Steve and Dustin are left with you. They exchange words, bickering about something, though you don’t process what they’re saying. They wander off somewhere, unaware that you’re lost in your panic. Breath spiking rapidly, your muscles tense together, prepared to run. You need to leave. This isn’t safe. You’re going to die.

Light headed, you blindly fall against the stairs behind you. You’re struggling to breathe, the room spins. Desperate, your head falls towards your knees. Curling into yourself, you try to steady your breathing. You think you’re having a panic attack.

In through your nose.

Out through your mouth.

Except your breath gets stuck in your throat and blood drips from your nose. Frantic, you harshly wipe at your face, smearing the blood even more.

Your first nosebleed. Another one of the symptoms. No one can know about this.

The grandfather clock looms over you; it taunts you.

“Hey, Dustin. You there?” A voice breaks through your panicked haze. “Remember me?”

They’re familiar. You know the person, you know you do. Carefully, you lift your head up. Looking around, you try to find the source of the voice.

“Hey, if anyone’s there, I really think I might be in a bit of trouble here.”

It’s Dustin’s bag.

“Wheeler? Anybody?”

“Eddie?” You rasp, barely able to pronounce his name. Your mouth is numb, your body still stuck in its terrified state. You have to press the walkie close to your lips, too weak to say anything else.

“Henderson?” While Eddie is relieved someone answered him, he’s surprised that it’d been you. “Can you-can you get your brother? I’m kinda in deep shit.”

Your stomach twists at the anxiety in his voice. “He’s not with me.”

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jason–” Static comes through, cutting off whatever Eddie is trying to tell you. “They-it’s not–”

The static intensifies. You hit the walkie, frustrated. “Hello?”

“–Boat and I think–” Eddie cuts in and out in a dizzying manner. “Here, and they’re–holes!”

“Holes?” None of what he’s saying makes any sense. “Boats? Are you-are you trying to tell me that there are holes in the boat?”

“No!” Eddie screeches, but then the broadcast goes out completely.

You stare down at the walkie, brows knit together in confusion. “What the fuck?”

But Eddie doesn’t respond. It’s quiet again.

With a huff, you toss the walkie back into Dustin’s bag and sling it over your shoulder. At the very least, the bizarre conversation with Eddie was enough to pull you out of whatever spiral you’d been in. Steve and Dustin will be looking for you soon, probably even send out a search party if you don’t follow them upstairs.

“‘The world is full of obvious things,’” Dustin’s horrible British accent greets you when you finally find him upstairs. He’s standing with Steve in a random room, though the older teen doesn’t look particularly pleased. “‘Which nobody by any chance ever observes.’”

Steve looks at your brother as if he’s grown a second head. You lean against the doorway, smiling slightly. “It’s a Sherlock Holmes quote, Steve.”

Both boys whip their heads around to face you. Dustin looks shocked, while Steve looks like he’s seconds away from strangling you. “Were you-were you alone?”

“Dude, how could you?” Dustin shoves his chest, already blaming him for abandoning you. “You know we can’t just leave her alone, she’s practically patient zero!”

Steve slaps Dustin’s hands away and reels back to yell at him, but you step between them. “Okay, first of all, I’m cursed. Not infectious. Second of all, you both wandered off without me, but I’m not a goddamn child. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but–”

You hold up your walkman up to Dustin’s face, shutting him up. “I also have this, in case you two idiots forgot.”

“That’s great,” Steve responds sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “That’s real great. Totally reassuring that your life rests in a walkman.”

“Take it or leave it, Harrington.”

“Actually, can we go back to you knowing Sherlock Holmes? I’m dating a nerd. That can’t be good for my image.”

Dustin snorts. He pats Steve’s chest, already walking away. “Yeah, okay, buddy. Your ‘image’.”

Steve scoffs at him and you pull the two boys away. “Stop being annoying, we’re supposed to be looking for clues or whatever the hell Nancy told us to do.”

No one argues, and the three of you split up. Dustin wanders towards one side of the room, you make sure to keep an eye on him as he looks around. You go with Steve, following him to the other side.

A vent catches Steve’s eye. He nods towards it, alerting you of it as well. You shrug, indifferent. He bends down, opening it to reveal a collection of jars with twigs and debris inside. You make a face. “Gross.”

Steve reaches inside, picking up one of the jars. He brings it closer, aiming his flashlight to illuminate its contents. When the light reveals dead spiders inside, your heart lurches fearfully. You’re fucking terrified of spiders.

And then, naturally, one begins crawling up Steve’s arm.

You scream, your fear alerting him of the insect. Steve drops the jar and quickly swats at his shoulder, stumbling backwards. He’s freaking out, so are you. You’re hitting his shoulder as you scream, stuck between wanting to help him and wanting to leave him for dead.

“Stop!” You screech, falling backwards as well.

Steve doesn’t hear you, breaking through the doorway, before the two of you collide into another body. “Woah!”

Nancy’s arm steadies you, concern etches her face. “What’s wrong?”

“There was a spider,” Steve speaks for you, panting. He knows your fear of the creature. He brushes at his jacket, as if he can still feel it crawling upon him. “It was a black widow.”

Your heartbeat is in your chest. Looking at the door you crashed through, you topple forward and slam it shut. “Fuck this room.”

“That bad, huh?” Nancy can’t hide her laugh. She feels bad that you had to experience a black widow, but your almost childish reaction amuses her.

“Fuck spiders.” Is all you can say.

Nancy starts to laugh again, but stops mid-way. “Oh, oh no.” Her hand reaches towards Steve, her fingers find his hair.

Steve flinches away, both from shock that she’s even touching him and from the idea that there’s something residing in his hair. “Is there something? Shit, okay.” He instinctively moves towards you, freaking out, but Nancy gently chides him.

“Stop moving, come here.” She stands behind him now, her fingers still in his hair. Softly tussling the strands, you watch as she gently plucks a cobweb. “I got it.”

It’s the way her voice softens when she speaks to Steve, the delicate way her fingers course through his hair as if she’s always done this. You suppose, in a way, that the delicacy comes from practiced ease. She used to do it all the time.

Unable to stop yourself, you raise your eyebrows. Something twinges in your chest. An icey, red hot feeling that you despise.

Nancy must sense that she’s upset you, because she awkwardly clears her throat and snatches her hand away. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, fearful she’s crossed a line.

Steve steps away, already back by your side.

“If there’s a spider in Steve’s hair, you’re never gonna find it until it lays eggs and the babies spill out.” Robin suddenly appears, cackling at her own joke.

“What’s wrong with you?” Steve hisses at her, patting his head, now slightly paranoid.

Robin leaves just as suddenly as she arrived, her laughter echoing in the hallway. Steve looks at you, and you merely shrug. “It’s Robin, what can you expect?”

“She’s got problems.” He huffs. When Nancy agrees, Steve jumps at the opportunity to lessen the iciness he feels between you and her. He wishes things were how they used to be, back before feelings complicated everything. “It’s, uh. Cool that you and Robin are friends now.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything, and you busy yourself with running your hands over the expanse of Steve’s back. You do it because you’re worried Nancy may have missed a few cobwebs, though a part of you knows that you also do it to show her that you can. That Steve allows your touch, leans into it.

“Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something?” Steve knows it’ll never happen, but he still says it anyways. It’s his way of extending friendship to Nancy, proving to her that there aren’t any hard feelings. “A long overdue double date, you know? You, me, Y/N, and Jonathan when he’s back.”

Jonathan’s name slips from Steve’s mouth before he can stop it. He knows he’s made a mistake.

You look away from him, the guilt of remembering Jonathan’s words. His dangerous reminiscing, how you still haven’t told Nancy.

And Nancy looks away because she’s reminded of her problems with Jonathan. The distance that has grown between them. How it feels like they haven’t been on the same page for a long, long time now.

“I’d-I’d like that.” You finally say, the words bitter.

Nancy nods, her own uncomfortable expression mirroring yours. “Yeah, totally.”

Neither of you sound convincing. Neither one of you can look the other in the eye. You can’t bear to look at Nancy because of the overwhelming guilt. Nancy can’t bear to look at you because you’re Jonathan’s best friend.

“We can bring Robin on the date!” Steve is desperate to break the tension. He hates it, he hates that Jonathan has created a chasm that he can’t cross. “I’m sure she’d love to join.”

Thankfully Nancy laughs. “Why would she want to third wheel?”

“Who says Robin would be the third wheel?” You say, relieved by the change in topic. “She’d be my date, obviously. Steve would be the third wheel.”

“Obviously.” Steve rolls his eyes, though there’s fondness in his voice that Nancy doesn’t miss.

You pick the last of the cobwebs off of him. Running your fingers through Steve’s hair one last time for good measure, you poke his cheek. “You’re officially cobweb free, by the way. We should probably get back to searching the house.”

“‘The obvious things are not what people observe,’” He catches your hand as it falls, squeezing it. “Or-’don’t observe’?”

Steve’s cute little frown warms you. He’s trying to impress you, quoting what your brother had only a few minutes ago. You squeeze his hand back, your cheeks warming as you smile up at him. “‘The world is full of obvious things by which nobody by any chance ever observes.’ You were close.”

“Thanks, angel. I would’ve gotten it eventually.”

“You would’ve.”

The tenderness that Nancy sees in Steve’s eyes burns. The way you’re smiling at him, the softness underneath your voice. She sees the way you squeeze the other’s hand. It makes her ache; she misses holding Jonathan’s hand.

–

You stand underneath a chandelier, its lights flickering. The sight is a familiar one. Flickering lights have become a part of your nightmares.

Max and Lucas had called everyone over to where they were. They’d found the lights that way.

“It’s the Christmas lights all over again.” You don’t know why you’re whispering, but it feels wrong not to.

Nancy nods in agreement, but Robin leans forward. “Christmas lights?”

“When Will was in the Upside Down, the lights… came to life.” Nancy explains, staring up at the way the chandelier flickers now.

“It’s how we knew he was alive.” Your chest tightens at the memory. You’ll never forget the dread you felt, realizing that Will was alive, yet trapped somewhere you could never reach.

Lucas clenches his fist. “Vecna’s here. In this house. Just on the other side.”

Steve grabs your hand, protective. He doesn’t like the idea of Vecna being so close to you. When the lights stop flickering, he pulls you closer to him, on edge. Equally as scared, you turn to Max to make sure she has her headphones nearby.

“Max, get your headphones on.” You command her, but she doesn’t listen.

“I think Venca just left the room.” Robin announces, looking at the group surrounding her.

Max frowns. “Did he hear us?”

“Can he see us?” Steve asks, hand skimming the walkman that resides in your coat pocket. Your headphones dangle from your neck. He positions himself so that if he needs to, he’ll be able to grab them as fast as possible.

“Headphones.” Lucas echoes your prior command, only this time Max doesn’t hesitate to put them on. He looks at you, too. “Y/N.”

You shake your head at him. Not yet. You’re scared that if you play your music right now, you’ll somehow miss any signs of danger for Max. You can’t be distracted, you can’t risk it.

“Everyone turn off your flashlights and spread out.” Nancy orders. There isn’t any time to argue, she recognizes that. You’ve made your choice.

Steve protests not having any lights on, and you can’t help but agree. The idea of running around the house without any sense of guidance makes you incredibly uneasy. It makes you easy targets.

But no one listens, already spreading out as Nancy told them. Steve groans, knowing you have no choice but to follow along as well. “Jesus Christ.”

“We’ll be fine.” You promise him, but Steve refuses to let go of your hand.

Robin is the first to find Vecna.

“I got him!” Her flashlight is pointed in the air, illuminating for only a second before the light dies completely. She slowly lowers it, defeated. “I… I had him.”

Then Steve’s flashlight turns on. He holds it away from him, though quickly he realizes that the light is following something. “He’s moving. I-I think he’s moving!”

Steve makes it to the top of the stairs before the light dies once more. He curses in agitation. But before he can complain, your flashlight turns on.

“He’s back,” you whisper, too afraid to raise your voice. Steve tries to snatch the flashlight from you, he doesn’t want Vecna anywhere near you, but you push him away. “He’s taking us somewhere.”

“Up here,” Max says, pointing towards a door. It’s cracked, faint light seeps through. Shoving it open, she reveals a separate staircase.

“It’s an attic,” Robin’s voice pitches an octave. “Of course it’s an attic.”

No one says anything as you make your way upstairs. Your light shines brightly, growing stronger and stronger with every step you take. Dustin tries to warn you guys that it could just be a trap, but his protests go ignored.

He’s probably right, but you’re already cursed and you have nothing to lose.

When you reach the attic, a single lightbulb hangs from the rafters. It flickers wildly, growing dimmer and stronger in stuttering patterns. Your flashlight begins to mimic the light’s pattern, before everyone else’s flashlights flicker on.

You all stand around the lightbulb, flashlights now joined together.

“Okay, what’s happening?” Steve looks around, anxious.

No one answers him. No one can answer him; but you can. The hair on your arms stands up. Static swirls around you, your body shivers at the sensation.

You’re standing where Vecna’s standing.

“He’s here.”

No one asks you how you know this.

A searing pain rips through your head. It’s so sudden, so jarring, that you can’t mask the pained sound you make. Everyone looks at you, terrified that you’re next, before the lights go haywire. The flashlights reach a burning capacity, energy exceeding their limits. One by one, they explode.

Glass flies everywhere. One piece cuts your cheek. The cut isn’t deep, it’s only a superficial wound, but Steve has your head in his hands before the blood can even begin to drip down your skin.

The lights go out. Steve tends to you in the dark.

The entire car ride back to Nancy’s, his hand never leaves yours.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #bdyr #m's writing #first chapter where steve and bug dont fight !!!#HOORAY !!!!

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sturnsdoll · 9 months ago

Note

can you write eating madison beer out PLEASE🙏

DRUNK IN LOVE ୨♡୧ - M.B

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

summary: you're at your bestfriend madison's birthday party. a few drinks and her flirting for the fun of it turns into you taking her upstairs. warnings: smut with (a LITTLE) plot, slight intoxication, switch!madison x dom!reader, oral, fingering, pussy slapping, praising, degrading, dirty talk, pet names (angel, honey) word count: 1648 authors note: i'm so glad someone put in this request because i've literally never seen a fic for madison?? but i'm also like scared to post this for some reasonn suggested song while reading: drunk in love (the weeknd's version) ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10ᯤ "pink" - reader speaking "purple" - madison speaking ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

music blares throughout your bestfriends home. decorations in mostly silver are scattered across the walls. empty beer cans, bottles and solo cups littered everywhere. the scent of many different people mixed with alcohol and weed wafts through the air.

you push your way through the crowd to look for her. after a few long minutes you see familiar shiny brown hair and her gorgeous mini dress. your eyes trail down to her clevage and then to her hips and the way the dress hugs them perefectly.

"hey" you're snapped out of your trance by madison's voice. "hi. how's my birthday girl doing?" you ask as you mirror her warm smile. you notice how she sways just a little, same as you. she must've had a couple drinks. you know she's normally not a drinker so she's a bit of a lightweight.

she approaches you with her hand out. she takes a strand of your hair, twirling it around her finger "i'm good. been looking for you for a bit now though" she says while tucking your hair behind your hair. "yea i've been looking for you too. who's fault is that?" you're reffering to earlier when you asked her not to go far but not-surprisingly she had been sucked into 100 different conversations until she lost you. she is the birthday girl afterall.

a guilty look consumes her features but she shrugs innocently as she grabs your hand. "come dance" she mumbles, more so telling instead of asking. "can't say no on your birthday i guess" she shakes her head no, agreeing that you can't. on her way to the living room she tries to grab another drink but before her hand can reach out to the case of beer on the shelf, you pull her back toward you "i take it back. i can say no" you say half jokingly but she knows you're somewhat serious.

she had decided to listen and continue to where the party was the most lively. you both make it to her living room where everyones either dancing or subconciously bumping to the music as they scream over it to speak. you use your hand in hers to twirl her around once before pulling her backside up against you. this wasn't anything out of the ordinary, typical drunk girls being drunk girls, right?

you both begin to rock back and forth to the music. both of your dresses ride up your thighs a little as you 'dance'. her hand comes behind her to the back of your head. madison leans back so you'll be able to hear her speak when she tells you "i'm glad you're here". "yeah why's that?" you mindlessly respond, less interested in the conversation then just enjoying the music and atmosphere.

"well someone needs to make sure i behave tonight" madison innocently bats her eyelashes at you as she says this. you freeze up for a second as you stare back at her. she has a mischevious look on her that you know all too well. your smiling back but there's also something devious about it.

you still weren't sure if she meant this in a sexual manner or not. "you implying that your gonna misbehave?" your tone comes back flirtier than intended. now she turns around to face you and one of her hands comes to your waist while the other goes around your neck. she moves as close as she can get to you, her mouth beside your ear again.

you can feel her hesitate to do whatever she was gonna do next. she sighs before teasingly responding "only if you'll put me in my place" as her hand trails down to the edge of your dress. you reach down and grab her wrist, stopping her from going further. you pull your face back to look at madison. you can see the lust in her eyes now, the need.

without another word you pull her by her wrist toward the stairs.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

your arms are wrapped around her and both her hands are in your hair. it's a messy makeout, both of you tasting alcohol on each others lips but not caring.

you and madison are in her bedroom. guiding her over to the bed, you shove her onto it. her legs are off the edge of the matress. you sink down, your knee's pressing into the ground. madison looks down at you with anticipation, her lip between her teeth at the sight of you between her legs.

you grab both her knee's to spread them apart. you're met with the sight of her white lace panties, a pink bow at the center of the waist of them. you slowly slide them off of her, discarding them elsewhere. your fingertips ghost over her thighs as you admire her for a second. she scooches her hips closer toward you "touch me" her tones a little too impatient for your liking. you stop your movements and stand up. your hand snakes up her thigh before cupping her pussy as your knee sinks into the bed in the space between her legs. now you're practically straddling her right thigh.

"you think.." your palm massages into her heat, stimulating her clit. "..that you get to talk to me like that.." her hips start to grind into your hand "and you'll get what you want?" with a smirk madison looks up at you "well i told you to touch me.." she starts as her gaze switches to your hand between her legs "..and now you are soo, yeah. i do."

despite the situation, her tone is soft and innocent sounding. you give her a glare as you realize she's right. just as she opens her mouth to speak again you land a smack against her pussy and her hips jolt in unexpected pleasure and pain. an almost unnoticable whine slips out as well. "didn't know you were such a brat, mads" you state before landing another slap against her cunt. she whines and clenches around nothing, squirming needily. her thigh accidentally presses up against your clothed pussy. instinctively your thighs close around her leg. she can feel how damp you are. "didn't know you were so easy to get wet" she retorts, pushing her thigh up against you again.

with that, you get off of her and she looks dissapointed "what? can't admit that- oh, fuck" she cuts herself off when your tongue flattens against her, licking from her hole to her clit. "what was that honey?" you ask as you look at her through your lashes. "nothing." madison responds back sheepishly.

you pull her thighs further apart "that's what i thought." you say finally before your mouth attaches to her clit. a moan slips as her head's thrown back. you begin sucking and licking harshly, eating her out like your life depends on it.

she pushes her hips up towards you but in turn you tighten your grip on her thighs to keep them down. noises fall past her lips as you flick your tongue back and forth. "not- mm- gonna last long" she cries out quietly as she continues uselessly squirming.

"already close?" you ask as you release one of her thighs to use your thumb to toy with her clit. she nods her head as she clenches around nothing, begging to be filled. you shake your head as you watch her squirm and whine "pathetic." you comment before filling her with your tongue. strings of moans fall from her perfectly glossed lips as your mouth and thumb work her perfectly.

her hips roll, fucking herself on your tongue at the same time you shove it in and out of her. her fingers slide into your hair and there's a sting from madisons acrylics grazing and poking your scalp. she suddenly gives your hair a tug, causing you to moan into her. her thighs squeeze your head at the feeling. you let them.

her breathing picks up and you just know she's close. you stop for only a second, leaving her empty, only to push your middle and ring fingers into her. "you close angel?" you question your friend and her only response is a high pitched moan and a pathetic nod of her head. your free hand slaps her thigh. "words babe". "y-yes m' gonna cum" her legs tensing and the fucked out expression on her face were evidence of this. "as much as i'd love to watch you beg for it.." the idea makes her eyes fill with panic, knowing she can't hold it off much longer. "you are the birthday girl. so go ahead, angel, come on my fingers" your mouth attacks her clit one last time as she clenches around your fingers, her cum coating them completely. your fingers continue to curl into her and your tongue doesn't leave her clit just yet. you wait till her legs shake and she's shoving your head away to release her swollen bud with a pop. your fingers leave her at the same time.

she lays there breathlessly looking up at you with a smile "didn't know you were hiding all that" she says with a breathy laugh. "same goes for you" you say while picking up her panties and tossing them to her. you offer a hand out and help her up. you smirk at how she wobbles a little on weak legs. you grab the back of your bestfriends head and pull her toward you, landing a kiss on her forehead.

"you need help cleaning up or anything?" you say checking up on her. she shakes her head no with a grateful smile. "alright. i'll meet you in the kitchen when you're ready birthday girl." you say as you start to walk away. madison nods "give me five" she confirms, heading for the bathroom.

tommorow you're definetly gonna have quite the night recap to talk about with each other. (sorry if this was a little too vanilla for y'all. it's def not my best but i hope you enjoyedᥫ᭡!)

#madison beer #madison beer fanfic #madison beer smut #sturniolo fanfic #strnzslut #madison beer x reader #sturnsdoll

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sun-kissy · 4 months ago

Note

Hello,💚

I was wondering if you’d be willing to write Remus x Fem!Reader who just had surgery of some sort? Preferably some hurt/comfort and fluff, where R is in pain and Remus is sweet about it?

Or if you’re not comfortable with that, any hurt/comfort with Remus would be great :))

(This is my first time requesting, but I really love your works! I just had surgery for my endometriosis, and I haven’t been sleeping much because of pain, so I’ve been up binge reading your works instead 😅)

💚

thank you so much for the request angel! honestly this hit home, because my mum had to have surgery for her endometriosis too, and i just wanted to say that i’m proud of you for being so strong. i hope that the pain has eased now, and you’re getting some well-deserved rest! <3

better | r.l.

tw: mention of surgery, hurt/comfort

remus lupin x reader

Remus rolls over on the bed, feeling around for you until he finds your hand. He takes your fingers in his, lacing them together before giving a soft squeeze.

“Hey sweetheart,” his words are soft and stringed together, as though dipped in honey. Your eyes are wide open as you look at him, the soft moonlight from the window casting shadows across your face. “Hi.”

“Still can’t sleep?” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles gently. His heart aches as he eyes you, curled up in a foetal position with your arms wrapped around your knees. You’ve pressed yourself so tightly together Remus thinks you might squeeze yourself half to death.

“No,” you mumble, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice for his sake. But he can see the slight contortion in your features, and he knows the pain is bothering you.

You’d just gotten surgery for your endometriosis a few days ago, after much convincing from your boyfriend. The pain had been bothering you for months before the surgery and he was convinced that you would feel a lot better once you faced the music. However, these past few days post-surgery weren’t proving to be any better, and he’d often find you in tears from how much everything hurt.

Remus hated that he couldn’t do anything to just take all your pain away and make it alright. But like all good things, it had to get worse before it got better.

He reaches a hand out, cupping your face in the basin of his palm as he silently thumbs your cheek. You relax into his touch, and let your eyes flutter closed.

“Rem,” you whisper.

“Yeah, dove?”

“It really hurts.”

Remus doesn’t miss the crack in your voice, and he feels like his heart is being cleaved in two. A pitiful sound comes from the back of his throat as he extends his other hand to stroke comfortingly at your hairline. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

At his sympathy, you curl in on yourself even further as though pained. Hot tears dribble down your cheeks and curve the bridge of your nose, and Remus moves his thumb to swipe at them. You whimper, and it makes him hurt in all the worst ways.

“I’m so tired. And I just want to sleep, but I can’t, and –” you choke pathetically on the lump in your throat. Remus shushes you, unable to stop himself from tugging you closer until your knees are squished between both of your chests. He presses a hand to your back, rubbing up and down your spine in a way he hopes is comforting.

Leaning forward, he presses his lips to your hairline. “I’m so sorry, honey. But you’re going to feel better in a few more days.” He desperately wishes his kiss could convey all the comfort and love you needed right now.

Remus needles an arm between your knees and stomach, pressing the back of his hand to your abdomen. His fingers start to trace a circular motion, knuckles brushing against your stitches in the same way they’ve done countless times before. He feels the muscles underneath his hand relax slightly.

“But what if I don’t feel better?” you warble. “What if I never sleep again?”

Remus could almost laugh at how loopy the meds made you if you didn’t sound so pitiful. More tears wet your eyelashes, and he indulgently kisses them away before smoothing his fingers over your cheeks.

“Then I’ll get you sleeping meds.”

“Really?” you sniffle, and it’s the most hopeful you’ve sounded that whole week. But you both know that Remus wasn’t going to let you ruin your system with more medicines than necessary.

“No,” he whispers bemusedly, almost guilty when he hears the earnest longing in your voice, “but what I can do for you right now is get you the heating pad.”

You don’t even look upset at his words, seemingly expecting the response. Your lip quivers as you draw it in between your teeth guiltily. “I don’t want you to get up, though. You should be getting some rest. I bet you’re exhausted, looking after me all night.”

Remus presses a quick peck to the tender spot beneath your eye as he pushes his elbows into the mattress, hoisting himself up straight. “I’m up, sweetheart.” He pulls his hand away from your abdomen, unable to stop the small smile that forms when you whine in protest.

He bends down to press another kiss to your forehead, and you feel the upward curve of his lips against your skin. “And I don’t mind looking after you. The only thing I’m worried about right now is you not getting enough rest.”

You hum softly in response, and Remus resists the urge to cocoon you in a mountain of blankets and smother your pain away. Instead, he brushes strands of hair back from your face. “Try to sleep, please.”

“After you get me the heating pad.”

He hums indulgently, moving his hand to the nape of your neck and comfortingly brushing over the baby hairs there. “You want anything else? Chocolate, or hot tea, maybe?”

“Chocolate would be nice,” you admit.

“Then chocolate it is,” he smiles as he stands up, rounding the bed.

“Rem?”

“Yeah, dove?”

“Are you sure you can’t get me sleeping pills?”

Remus huffs out a laugh, giving your foot a warning squeeze before leaving the room.

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 8 months ago

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[The Last Dance] Simon “Ghost” Riley*Reader

Hurt and a bit of comfort? maybe?

poor Simon, someone please send me some fluff ideas for him or I’m unable to stop writing angst about him. (cuz that’s the only thing in my note for him)

word count: 744

You never visit his dreams.

Every day he’s a walking corpse, mindlessly doing what he should done, saying goodnight to his teammates, and coming back to his quarter, hoping he can see you one more time.

but he never dreams of you these days, despite how desperate he is.

“You need some rest, I can give you a few weeks of leave, Simon.” He simply shakes his head at Price’s suggestion.

There’s no home waiting for him anymore, a haven for him to sleep soundly.

Until the night Simon deems he hit his limits, you finally appear in his dream.

There stood you, at the quiet bay you two always date, your usual smile lingering on the face imprinted in his heart.

He runs, stumbles a few times maybe, but he never stops his feet until he’s in front of you.

“Simon.”

“I fucking miss you... god...” He pulls you into his arms immediately, squeezing hard so you won’t flee from him by any chance.

He just buries his face to hide his sobs as you rub his back comfortingly.

“You should move on, honey.” You break the silence first.

“How am I supposed to?” He can feel his face stained with tears, but he pays no mind to it, eyes never leave yours, letting them stream his sorrow down.

“Remember the dance we always do?” As he leans into your fingers that are wiping his tears, he hears you ask softly.

“I never forget.”

“Hey, let’s do it again, yeah?”

Your soft hands — cold, he notices — guide him to the proper posture, and leads the dance start.

He remembers the first day you tried to teach him the dance, and he reluctantly agreed.

He remembers the first time he didn’t step on your toes, and you praised him cheerfully.

He remembers those days he held you close and giggled with you during the dance, at here.

Swaying slowly along you, waltzing in a graceful circle, you sing the music just like you always did when dancing with him.

As you breeze to the last tone, both of you stop at the same place, nothing moves except the waves hitting the cliff beneath.

“Better now?”

“No.” He admits through a hiccup.

“Still so honest huh” you laugh “but listen to me, Simon.”

He lets you cradle his face in your palms, he hates that your hands are so cold, unlike the warmth he stole from you in winter.

“You can find a way to remember me, but don’t let me leash you in the past.”

“Keep going, my love, protect those people that you love when they’re still aside.”

The seriousness on your face is what he never gets from you before, he just stares at you, and eventually, nods his head.

“That’s my man.”

You let go of him, satisfied.

“Time to go now” you take a look at the sky and face him again. “before that, can you smile for me one last time? You know I love it.”

“I’m bloody ugly right now.” He sighs, but he still manages to pull his lips into a contorted grin.

“Well, true”

“but still the most handsome man for me.”

- - - - - -

Simon opens his eyes.

4 am, the clock indicates, earlier than the alarm he set, but he has a plan today.

“Only one day off?” Price crooks his eyebrows when he signs the paper for Simon to have permission to leave.

“Yeah, one day’s enough.”

Walking to the parking lot, he jumps into his car and starts driving to his destination.

The tranquil feelings he hasn’t experienced for months accompany him on his journey to the bay.

Everything’s the same as he visited here last time. Still a silent bay without people, the sea spuming over the cliff, filling the air with soothing crashes of the surf.

He’s afraid of visiting here after you leave, the emptiness is deafening without your singing.

Unsurprisingly, the hollow in his heart becomes more painful as he steps to the same spot in his dream last night.

Yet still, he gazes at the ocean for a good while, and chants out the song lowly.

The cavity in his bleeding heart starts healing.

#cod imagine #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x reader #cod x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley angst #queued post

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m1ssunderstanding · 10 months ago

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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 2.2

Prettyyyyy

Maybe John's not actually crazy for thinking Hey Jude is to him? “For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder.” fool is, in my tin hat world, often a code name for Paul in their songs. And that description is certainly him to a t actually. I wonder why I've never considered it before.

John: are you happy here, honey? Paul: I ain't happy here my honey, can you take me back? How many songs does Paul write from 1968 on about trying to go back? One day I'm going to make a list and it'll be a long one.

And thus begins the phase of they just can't help it, can they? But they really wish they could. They make each other so so happy, but they really wish they didn't. It would hurt less that way.

I love the comparison of Linda's pictures of everyone else and then of John. It just shows that it's not a her problem – that's such a lovely one of George, who Hates Yoko – it's how he feels about her.

John, coming up with every possible weapon to provoke Paul, finally has Yoko sing Paul's part in one of their songs. It really is such a slap in the face. But of course breaking the sanctity of their music is what does it best. And still, all he gets out of him is a look before he walks away. Whatever it is that John wants, I think Paul literally can not give it to him.

Btw the white album is my favorite, probably. There's just such incredible diversity on it. It's so much fun, you never get tired of it, and it's an excellent display of their genius and versatility.

He looks like an abandoned puppy.

What do we think? John says Paul drummed on WDWDITR. Paul says Ringo did. Who is telling the truth?

“It was getting to be where he wanted to do it like that but he couldn't make the break . . .” So John thinks Paul doing his songs by himself means he wants to break the group up? I personally read it as him not wanting to annoy everyone with his bossiness, but that's just my take.

John talking about how it's him and Yoko now, but before, it was . . .

George needs to send them a cease and desist notice or he'll sue them for breech of character the amount of times they drag him into things he's not a part of. Especially if they're not going to even fucking spare him a glance in reality. Please and thank you, Hare Krishna.

Paul's epigraph on the two virgins cover. “Battles to prove he was a saint”? What kind of passive aggressive shit is that, Paul?

The eternal question: what happened in India? And does John really not know? Or is he just unwilling to tell what happened to rolling stone?

Somebody please engage with that poor little boy, preferably, you know, his father. Ugh, Cynthia must've had so much anxiety watching that footage, or really any time Julian was with John. And that footage is placed in the doc right after a pic of Paul already being Heather's dad just so naturally.

But hell, if I've ever seen attention-seeking behavior, this is it. Singing about wanting to die while seductively undressing the closest thing Paul would've had to career competition at the time.

I'm sorry but it will forever be hilarious to me that when John's singing his part of “I've Got a Feeling” with Yoko it's “soft dream” and then with Paul it's “wet dream”. How John and Yoko tricked everyone into believing they were too horny for each other to control themselves is beyond my imagination.

On the day John plays their sex tape, “Unusually, Yoko is not present.” LMAO girl same. John: I'm going to play our sex tape for the band tomorrow. Yoko: oh was that tomorrow? Damn, I forgot, I have a thing.

“Well that's an interesting one.” What did John honestly expect, though? Like I know he wanted Paul to be like, “that's it! Enough is enough I'm taking you home and doing you right!” Or whatever. But what did he honestly, realistically expect?

Always saying the same things at the same time, always on the same page, same word. About everything, it seems, except their relationship.

Paul: but you won't say anything about it. John: I said what I've been thinking. Paul: Are you still thinking that now? What are you thinking now? John: I'm still thinking about it. Infuriating. Whatever it is John's been thinking, he doesn't want to talk about it in front of cameras. Is it quitting the band? I think it's something more complicated than that but I've no idea what.

“John, John, joooooohn!” X “Martha my Dear” crossover my beloved. The fact that literally Everyone reacts and tries to get her to stop except Paul is so extremely telling. Yoko: joooooohn! Ringo: He's busy! Yoko: joooooohn! John: Stop that! (And he looks and sounds genuinely pissed) Yoko: joooooohn! Paul: (plinking and pounding away, definitely not thinking thoughts about what he would do right now if he was a girl that will come out of his mouth fifteen years later)

Everyone's trying to figure out the problem with George vs JohnandYoko and Paul's saying “and like with Yoko, they’re real. They mean it.” Linda laughs. “I don't dig that.” You don't, Linda? What about them isn't real to her, I wonder. Does she think they don't really love each other? Or what?

Linda: *Makes fart noise* Go away! Paul: continues to defend them. Neil: everybody cough. See and this is why it sucks that get back was so edited. Because it's important that Paul's defending them here not just going on and on where nobody asked. He knows he's hurt John, and he feels bad enough about it to let him have his mommy with him at all times if that's what he needs.

If what??? Someone needs to force them to finish their damn sentences. Because I feel like he cuts himself off here when (I swear!!) he's about to say what it is that's hurting John so badly.

Anyway, here's where (imo) he's kinda wrong. Where he says "if it came to a push between Yoko and the band, it's Yoko." I think I said it in my get back posts, but I'll say it again. Yeah, if it was Yoko or the band, it's Yoko. But if it's Yoko or Paul filling all the gaps Yoko is currently filling? It's Paul. You know? And I think that's what John wants so badly at this time, actually. Is “a push between Yoko and [Paul]” ending with Paul stepping up for him in some way that he wasn't before, you know?

He really does get it though. John wanting to be as close as possible with Yoko so he doesn't lose her and their connection. Don't forget he does put Linda in his band. He gets it because it was the same with him and John.

I really do think it's a huge myth that they just never talked about feelings or anything serious. Look at them. This is how they talk in a crowded place with their girlfriends sitting right there. They didn't just get through fifteen years of one of the greatest collaborations in history never actually talking. They talked about deep stuff. And frequently.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #linda mccartney #yoko ono #ulm #understanding lennon mccartney

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opheliasflora · 7 months ago

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Title: The Dance (Joel Miller/gn!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 872

Warnings: Ain’t nothing but fluff, but Ellie’s here so there’s an f-bomb in there. And a bit of making out. (No use of gendered pronouns; no Y/N; Joel calls Reader “honey”. Reader is suggested to be slightly shorter than Joel, but it’s not definitive.)

Notes: Written in about…ten minutes, just inspired by that photo up there. It’s what Joel and Ellie deserve, not what they actually get. Completely un-betaed and honestly…I didn’t even reread it after writing it. This is about as stream-of-consciousness as something could be.

For @ladamedusoif.

(Dividers by @saradika-graphics.)

You’ve never seen Joel look simultaneously so relaxed and so terrified.

He’s been your neighbor since he and Ellie moved to Jackson; the little yard shared between the backs of your houses a space where you slowly learned about the man and his girl that otherwise mostly kept to themselves. Conversations over garden work turned to nights over drinks; Ellie’s presence faded a bit as she made friends, leaving you and Joel alone under the stars more often than not.

Now, though, he sits across the room from you, eyes reflecting the little fairy lights strung overhead. His hair is longer than it had been when you met, despite his sister-in-law’s best attempts to convince him to let her cut it; his clothes fit a bit better now that he’s eating more regularly.

His gaze is trained on his daughter — not his by birth, he’d informed you one late night, but his daughter nonetheless — as she laughs and dances with Dina in the middle of the floor. “I think she’s in love,” he’d told you a few days earlier. “I hope she’ll tell me.”

“She will,” you’d replied. “At her own pace.”

You can empathize with Ellie.

Something drives you to stand up, to move across the room and drop a hand gently on Joel’s shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hiya,” he says, lifting his eyes from Ellie to you. There’s the ghost of a smile on his lips. (Ellie once told you you’re the only person she’s ever seen him smile at besides herself and Tommy. You feel blessed.) “Was wondering when you’d come say hi.”

“You could have done it,” you tease, your fingers playing at the collar of his jacket.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

You grin brightly. “C’mon, Mr. Miller. I want to dance.”

Joel’s dark eyes narrow. “I don’t dance, honey.”

“I’ll show you how,” you reply. You’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer. You slip your hand down his arm a little and tug him upright. “Let’s go show Ellie and Dina how it’s done.”

He hesitates, but slowly, he follows you as you lead him out, your fingers around the meat of his palm. Ellie meets you, then looks at Joel, her own softer brown eyes shining.

They’ve been fighting more. You assume it’s the normal teenage thing; Ellie is sixteen now, making friends, falling in love, discovering herself — you remember what it was like with your own parents when you were her age.

But there’s still love in both of their faces, regardless of disagreements. It’s undeniable.

Joel nods, just slightly, to his daughter as Ellie does the same. They’re so alike, you think.

The music changes to something slower, easier, and Dina immediately wraps her arms around Ellie, who looks shocked for only a split second before easing right into it. There’s another glance at Joel, who finally offers a real smile, and they’re off, spinning into the night.

You slip your hands up and lock your wrists behind Joel’s neck as his broad hands fall to your waist. He doesn’t need any guidance, it turns out — he’s got an easy, natural rhythm and you keep in time with his movements without a thought.

“Feels weird being able to do this, doesn’t it?” you say softly.

Joel looks into your eyes. “A little.” He glances towards Ellie and Dina before meeting your gaze again. “I’m glad she gets to have it, though.”

“What about you?”

He shrugs, his fingers pressing a little harder into your body.

“I’m glad you get to have it,” you offer instead. “I think maybe… You need this kind of normalcy.”

“Don’t know if I deserve it, though.”

Joel’s always like this. Believes his past defines who he should be now; even though he’s never gone into too much detail, you’re willing to believe he didn’t do anything worse than most of the people living in Jackson now.

“We all deserve this, Joel.” You catch your fingers in the curls over his collar. “Even you.”

The music swells and in turn, he spins you slightly, making you giggle. For the moment, he’s completely focused on you — not Ellie and Dina, not Tommy and Maria who have joined in a few feet away.

Just you.

“You’re too kind to me, honey.”

You shake your head. “No, I think I’m just the right amount.”

Joel’s lips curve again, and he pulls you just a bit tighter against him. You take the opportunity and rest your cheek against his heart, listening to the strong, steady beat as he sways you around. You don’t miss the wink from Tommy as you pass by, or the way Ellie’s eyes shimmer as she swings past you.

You’ve always liked the Miller family, and it seems like the feeling is mutual.

You’re even more sure of it when Joel’s got you pressed against the front of his house, his lips on your throat and his hands under the hem of your shirt.

“Get a fuckin’ room!”

Ellie’s laugh echoes across the front yard as you feel your face get hot. Joel, on the other hand, simply laughs into your skin and his fingers press a little harder against your spine.

“Should we take her up on that offer?”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller x you #hbo the last of us #the last of us #fanfiction #writing!

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soft-girl-musings · 1 year ago

Text

Cry (MK Spring Bingo #1)

Marc Spector x Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: panic/anxiety attacks, possibly inaccurate description of an emergency room visit (i don't remember the exact process i borrowed from my own experience bc i was sick… in the ER…), no use of y/n

wc: 1,356

fic summary: Three times Marc told you it was okay to cry, and one time you returned the favor.

A/N: Finally got around to writing something for someone besides jake lockley, bless. once again this is self-indulgent, but if anything hits home for you i'm glad <3 (based on Adam Melchor's "Cry" , which is the most marc-coded piece of music i've ever heard. in this essay i will)

_____________________

The first time came out of nowhere.

Nothing was wrong per se; no major injury or crisis had come up. All you knew was that you were frozen in the corner of your room, hot tears streaming down your face as your mind raced between a million different things.

“Sweetheart, have you seen my–” Marc’s request stopped the moment he saw you frozen in the darkened room, gripping the sleeves of your shirt as you bit your lip so hard you risked giving yourself another reason to cry.

“I just need a minute,” your voice came out trembling and heavy, as if too many syllables would cause the tears to fall with greater force. Not that you knew how to stop them, or how they even started.

Quick strides across the room brought Marc to your side. His warm hands wrapped around yours, cold and losing color from digging into your arms.

Words were never his strong suit; Marc’s a man of few, usually letting his presence and actions suffice. So when faced with consoling you against some invisible threat, he could almost hear the sound of his own heart breaking in tandem with your staggered breath.

So he stood there. Until your fingers relaxed and entwined with his, he stood there until he could guide you to the floor. Arms wrapped around your shoulders, he cradled you as you continued to cry.

“This is so stupid,” you groaned as you wiped your face with your sleeve. “So fucking… ugh.”

“Hey,” he shushed you. “Not stupid. You’re feeling what you’re feeling.”

“But I don’t know why,” you choked out. It was hard enough being so distraught; not having a valid reason for it made everything hurt more.

“You don't have to justify it. Don't have to do anything but just… be here.” A hand to your temple eased your head against his chest. “I'm here, as long as you need me to be.”

This was all the permission you needed to let another rush of tears spill down your cheeks, soaking his shirt. He didn't mind.

___________________

The second time was in the emergency room.

You'd never struggled to catch your breath like this before; a common cold turned south and triggered long-dormant childhood asthma, making your lungs betray the rest of your body. Marc drove you to the ER when your hollow coughing didn't let up for the third day in a row. Head spinning and chest aflame, you were rushed to the back as soon as Marc told them you couldn't breathe.

“You've got to breathe steady, honey.”

“I'm trying,” you muttered around the medicated tube in your mouth. It had to be almost 3 in the morning; your body ached like crazy and you didn't catch a word of what the nurse told you to do with your medication. All you knew was that you were cold, exhausted, and grateful to have Marc there to time your breathing.

But even with his hand holding yours, you still felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Every inhalation brought medicine to your airways, but the ragged sensation resonated through your chest and made your body ache more.

“I'm so tired,” you finally said around the device. With that, your tears fell faster than you could swipe at them. Your frown pushed the device from your mouth, but you didn't care.

Marc sprang up, catching the equipment when your grip faltered. He said nothing; instead, he climbed onto the bed with you, leaning your back against his chest and taking your hand in his once more, bringing the medication back to your lips. You let him bear your weight, immediate relief washing over you as he took over keeping the device steady with one hand and gently dabbing a tissue at your cheek with the other.

“Nothing wrong with a few tears, honey. Means you’re alive.”

When you finally went home, the fire in your lungs extinguished, he held you again until you fell asleep.

_____________________

“.....The movie just started.”

(The third time was on the living room couch.)

You had finally talked Marc into watching La La Land with you (with the promise of his getting to choose the next movie night film, of course). You were barely 30 seconds into the opening number when you'd started crying, eyes glued to the screen as dozens of up-and-comers danced and sang about their dreams to make it in the industry.

“They haven't said anything.”

“They're saying everything.”

“He's dancing on a car.”

“Because he's excited!”

“Why did they stop traffic to dance?”

You didn't hear the rest of his quips, too engrossed in the scene. The colors, the music, and the highly impractical interstate choreography had a way of getting to you ever since you first saw this movie. Meanwhile, Marc sat with his arms crossed and eyebrows knit together as he tried to follow along.

When you noticed his body language, you reached for the remote and paused the movie. “Do you… want to watch something else?”

Marc's face fell when he realized this new batch of tears wasn’t because of the movie, but because of him. The thought of making your cry hit like a punch to the gut.

He took the remote from you, moving closer to your side. “Nice try, but you're not getting out of it that easily. I need your commentary if I'm gonna keep up.” He hit play and choked down every criticism as he saw your face light up, tears of joy brimming during the remaining 2 hours of the film.

The next morning, while making breakfast, you could have sworn you heard Marc humming Another Day of Sun under his breath.

_____________________

As you'd grown closer, you began to know Marc as your rock, your steady landing place when you had thoughts and feelings too big to deal with on your own. He never had to say much to be there for you. He kept you tethered and together, happy to be of service no matter how ugly your hardships felt.

It was only a matter of time before you saw a crack in his foundation.

You got home late one night, a thunderstorm hot on your heels. You had shrugged off your coat and shoes, calling out to Marc to see if he was home. No response.

You checked each room diligently, until you found him sitting on the corner of the bed.

“Marc?” You asked softly, walking toward him. You knelt in front of him, and the sight of his face twisted into an unfamiliar expression, a steady stream of tears spilling from his reddened eyes, was more than you could bear.

The first time came out of nowhere.

“Can you give me your hands, Marc?” He complied, his breath short and his eyes fixed on the storm pelting the window with sheet after sheet of rain. His vision darted between drops of water and streaks of lightning. The room shook with the echoes of thunder as the worst of the storm hit.

“Hey,” you urged him. “Just be here. With me.” Your thumb traced his wrist as you tried to stay calm. “Can you breathe with me, Marc?” You sat up on your knees. He nodded, slowly but surely matching the pace of your breath.

You didn't know what was on his mind, only that it was racing. You couldn't tell what had him so worked up, only that his breath escaped him even as you counted to ten again, and again, unrelenting in your focus on him. You had no idea what made your rock, your anchor, cry like this.

Maybe he'd tell you later; maybe it'd remain a mystery. None of that mattered in the moment. All that mattered was the rhythm of your breath as the rain let up; the way his tears drenched your sleeves when you dabbed at his flushed cheeks; the steady thrum of his heart as his body relaxed beside yours. All that mattered was how, with your chest pressed to his back as you lay on top of the bedspread, he let you hold him for a change.

_____________________

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added/taken off this wee tag list)

#moon knight #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x gn!reader #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector/reader #marc spector/gn!reader #my works #mk spring bingo 2024 #moonknightevents #youtube link

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oldiesstationlover11607 · 5 months ago

Note

Wow...I loved Opener! Can you write with Gerard in 2019? Gerard is dating the reader, but he feels insecure because she is younger.

Thank's for liking it! I tried my best with this one - hope you like it!

What's Wrong? - Reunion!Gerard Way x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age Gap (legal)

Word Count: 648

‘My Chemical Romance Announces Reunion,’ the headline flashed across almost every post on my Instagram feed.

“Well, they finally know,” I said, looking up at Gerard. He sat up in our bed pulling me in close.

“Yeah, they do,” he sighed. I could hear my phone buzzing with notifications from our close friends and family about the band’s news. They were the few people that knew about Gee and I’s relationship.

“What’s wrong? I thought you were excited to make music with the boys again,” I turned to face him straight on. I could tell he was keeping something from me, his energy was off.

“Huh?” He seemed to be in his head, something that happened a lot with him.

“I said, what’s wrong?” I got up out of bed and grabbed my sweater, ready to grab Gee his morning coffee. He let out a loud sigh, running his hands over his face and stretching out his arms.

“It’s nothing, Honey.”

“Do I need to call Mikey?” I was starting to get worried. Gee always communicated how he felt with me–it was what made our relationship work. I wasn’t prepared to let that change now.

“I said it’s nothing!” He snapped, making me flinch. I turned around and walked out into the kitchen to make him a coffee, waiting for him to get out of bed. I couldn’t possibly imagine what the issue was. He didn’t seem anxious about being back on stage, or writing music for My Chem again, or even about being on a long tour. Mikey had told me Gerard had always struggled being away from home when on tour but I didn’t think that would be the issue. With my head hanging I placed his coffee on a coaster on the counter.

“I get it if you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong but I’m here if you need me,” I muttered. Gerard took a sip of his coffee, letting out a relaxed breath.

“Did you know that you’re 18 years younger than me? You’re 27 and I’m 45,” he spoke. Of course I knew that, it had never been an issue between us before. I didn’t know why it was an issue now. I nodded along, waiting for him to continue. “I don’t think you should come on tour with me.”

“What?” I definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“You heard me Y/N,” he announced. He had to be joking, of course I was going with them. “I love you, you know I love you. I just–I don’t want the fans to have an issue with our relationship, all the others are married to people their age and if you get upset or hurt–” Of course he was comparing us to the others. I couldn’t believe that he was worried I’d get hurt from this. I was tough, I wasn’t going to break down just because some people had an issue with our relationship. The others’ partners were a totally different story, Frank had been with Jamia forever, Mikey had been with Kristin for a few years now, Ray practically had his whole life sorted out–Gerard and I were just different. “I can’t handle you getting hurt.” His hands started to shake, his vulnerability displaying itself clearly.

“Hey, hey,” I cupped his face, “I don’t need you being insecure about our relationship. We are happy together, right?” he nodded slowly, “And none of our friends or family have an issue with us?” he shook his head slowly, “So we’re going to be fine.” His nerves seemed to subside as I reassured him everything would be okay.

“Are you sure? I just don’t want–”

“I’m sure honey,” I flashed him a soft smile before pressing my lips to his. He kissed back tiredly, his eyes still semi-heavy from the long night’s sleep. It was going to be okay.

“I guess we’re going on tour.”

Feedback is appreciated! Please request on my page if you have a story idea. I write for lots of different fandoms so request anything and I'll write it!

#gerard way imagines #gerard way x reader #mcr imagines #mcr x reader #mcr fanfiction #my chemical romance imagines #my chemical romance x reader #my chemical romance fanfiction #masterlist #mikeyway #frankiero #theblackparade #raytoro #frank iero imagines #mikey way imagines

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 9 months ago

Note

not sure if you've done this one before but how would the vanilla + SVE bachelors react to the farmer giving them a shirt (or any top article of clothing) with one of those boob windows? What if the farmer pleads them with puppy eyes in hopes of convincing them to put it on?

🌚

No, I definitely didn’t write a headcanon about this topic. And today we will fix it~ (thanks for the ask, dear anon!🫰💕)

_________________________________________

SDV/SVE bachelors react to their Farmer spouse who gives them clothes with a "boob window":

Alex thought at first that that line on the T-shirt was a damage, but when Farmer explained to the athlete that this was the way it should be, he hesitated for a couple of seconds, and put the T-shirt on. Though Alex blushed a little at Farmer's stare, he realised that he looked pretty good in it and started to look at himself in the mirror. "Hey honey, you know what's better than this 'titty' t-shirt? No t-shirt!". He took off his t-shirt and with a smug smile began to flex in front of his spouse. Farmer should give him credit: it's impossible to disagree with such a valid argument.

"Nice try, dear, but still no." Sebastian sat on the couch with his laptop while his dearest spouse ran around him and begged him to at least try on a t-shirt with an oval cut on the chest. Neither the sad eyes nor the bribe-laden entreaties worked on the emo, who seemed to be amused by Farmer's futile attempts to convince him. "Yeah we'd sooner have an obsidian portal on our farm than I'd wear this." Bad mistake. Because a few hours later there was a huge obsidian archway on the farm (the portal is working, btw) and the Farmer was standing nearby, triumphantly handing a flushed Sebby a t-shirt.

"Honey, don't you think that's a bit much?" Elliott is a fan of unbuttoning his collar and being in dramatic poses when he's writing another masterpiece or posing for a drawing. But here, he'll probably draw the line. No, not to say he hates it at all, this sweater with the... hmm, rather unusual cut, but Elliott's used to his style of dress, and this doesn't fit his image in any way. Even Farmer's tearful pleas won't make him change his mind (though Elliott must admit, he almost gives in, because Farmer knows how to make professional puppy-dog eyes).

"Ah, fuck it. Give it to me." Shane, as it turned out, wasn't hard to convince. His only stipulation, though, was that he would only wear that "boob window" shirt ("Heh, what a fucking name...") at home on the farm. Because even if the chicken man himself doesn't give a shit about most people's opinions and dresses as he pleases, he still doesn't want Jas and Marnie to catch him wearing that t-shirt. It would be... awkward, to say at least. This cloth is comfortable tho, plus his size. "Heh, boob window. Enjoying the view?" Farmer is definitely enjoing the view.

Huh... Sam had tried all sorts of extravagant clothes in an effort to find his unique style in the past, but this was new even to him. He certainly wore that t-shirt with the cutout on the chest, purely out of curiosity. It's cool, but... not his style. The young guitarist had thought about unusual clothes for his music band, but a side boob shirt cut was more his style than this. Sorry Farmer- hey, c'mon, don't give him this sad look! They know it's hard for Sam to say no to them with those sad eyes... Ok, but he won't wear this to a family dinner, deal?

If the Farmer wanted Harvey to stand flushed for a minute, congratulations - they've achieved their goal! With all due respect to his spouse, the local doctor is not too keen on wearing a sweater with such a cut. But interestingly enough, he has asked them not to put these clothes far away, as the resourceful doctor has found a use for it. If Farmer insists on staying late in the Mines, Harvey just needs to drop his selfies of himself (still flushed) wearing this sweater. Farmer teleports home at lightning speed and almost kicks in the front door. Works every time!

"Please!" "No." "Please!" "No." Farmer had been following Magnus around like a duckling following its mother for about fifteen minutes now, hoping to change their stubborn husband's mind and at least try on that sweater with the big line on the chest. Attempts, so far, had been unsuccessful. "Please!" "No." Magnus is quite happy with his magical uniform, which gives him charm and mystery vibe. Especially since he doesn't want any of his colleagues to catch him with that sweater. So wizard has to say no to his beloved spouse. Although they are stubborn. "Please!" "No."

"My dear, is this your way of trying to hint to me that I should unbutton my shirt more often?" Lance smiled slyly at Farmer, and the blush on their cheeks made it immediately clear to the gallant adventurer that he had hit right on target. That clothes with a cut-out on the chest, if the truth be told, is not to his taste. Especially since Lance doesn't see the point of it at all, if he and his spouse can find alternatives. All Lance has to do is simply undo the gilded buttons of his snow-white shirt, spread the collar a little for... *chuckle* a better view for a Farmer, and that's it. The effect will be the same.

Victor had a heap of doubts, but it was hard to resist Farmer's puppy-dog eyes, so, to Farmer's glee, he put on the T-shirt they handed him with.... "Boob window"? Is that what it's called? What a name..." The size is certainly his, and the fabric is of good quality, but... He feels a little bit uncomfortable. And Yoba forbid his mother catches him like this, otherwise it would take a long time to explain everything. Victor could have just unbuttoned his shirt. Or... or no shirt at all, if Farmer wanted to hint to him that they'd like to have fun tonight...

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley expanded #sve #sve lance #sve magnus #sdv wizard #sdv rasmodius #sve victor #sdv shane #sdv sam #sdv harvey #sdv elliott #sdv alex #sdv sebastian #thanks for the ask!#sdv headcanons #sve headcanon #don’t know why I inserted a portal from Minecraft into Sebastian’s story. but why not lol

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igotanidea · 26 days ago

Text

Jingle bells: Dick Grayson x reader

Christmas bingo: carol singing

A/N: Please forgive me if I;m out of practise in writing, had quite a long break XD

***

Y/N was walking around their shared apartment, shaking her phone furiously, muttering something under her nose, completely incoherently. And while Dick had no idea what got her panties in a twist, he knew that something did and he was about to find out in style.

“What did the poor device did to you honey?”

“mhmhmm”

“oh, that’s amazing, but if you decide to speak English, it will be infinitely easier for me to understand.”

“Stupid wrapped” she hissed, barely holding back from throwing her smartphone at the wall, probably only because it was relatively new and very expensive.

“Huh? What wrapped? Who’s wrapped? I know Christmas is coming but –“

“God, Dick, I swear you are so dense sometimes!”

“Excuse me?! I’m good -looking dense, you forgot the most important part of that!”

Y/N just rolled her eyes, still tapping her phone as if she was expecting it to start popping gifts left and right.

“spotify wrapped, you fool!”

“Oh! The music one!?”

“Yeah, my yearly psych evaluation.”

“So basically you just waiting for some app to show you your fav music? Isn’t that a little-“

“Richard Grayson, don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

“Hey, I’m just saying!” Dick raised his hands in the air In surrender “you’re the one who constantly criticize people who are dependent on technology and yet, now-“

“That’s it. I’m going to start dating Jason. He and I are way more compatible when it comes to music either way.”

“That’s not true! Did you know he got Zombie by The Cranberries as his first last year?!”

“You really have to stop abusing Tim’s hacking skills.” Y/N chuckled, knowing damn well how Dick got in possession of such information.

“He offered!”

“Mhm, sure. And what did you offered in exchange?”

Dick looked down, with a hint of blush on his cheeks.

“Busted, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Nah, I’m having too much fun teasing you.”

“Teasing? Oh, honey, you think you are teasing me? While you wait for your whole-year-fav list, how about I get you in a Christmas mood and offer carol singing?”

“Carol singing? Since when do you sing at all?”

“With my angel voice it’s about time I start a successful career in the field.”

“You are insane”

“Insanely handsome?” he grinned

“No.” she deadpanned and his smile faltered for a moment, before coming back again, taking almost alarming form.

“Come on, grab your coat, we’re going carol singing.”

“What-?!”

***

She understood his plan only when he pulled the car in front of the Wayne Manor, got out of the Porche and retrieved a retro boombox set.

Too bad it was already late to stop him, though in her defense she tried.

“Dick, please tell me you are not going to-“

“JINGLE BELLS, BATMAN SMELLS!--”

“oh, dear lord…” she pulled her hat lower, covering her eyes and ears in a poor attempt to disappear

“ROBIN LAYS AN EGG!--”

“For the record, you were-“

“BATMOBILE LOST A WHEEEL—”

She groaned knowing what was coming next.

“AND JOKER GOT AWAY!”

At thins point nothing was more true for poor, half-sobbing, half-laughing Y/N when the so-called carol reached the line “where is he, I’ll murder him.” Regardless, before she could act on those deeply hidden desires, the doors to the manor opened and very angered Bruce looked at the two culprits, causing disturbances on his driveway in the middle of the night.

“I had nothing to do with it! It was all him!” She raised her hands in surrender

“Traitor!”

“Asshole!”

“Coward!”

“Child!”

“will you two stop?” Bruce muttered, his tone flat. “Damian has just discovered something called spotify wrapped and he’s been torturing me with Mozart’s requiem for the last half an hour. Apparently it’s his top1 whatever this means—”

“WHAT?! IT’S ON?! IT’S ON?! OUT OF MY WAY!”

In a blink of an eye, shoving past Bruce (and almost knocking him down) she rushed to the manor, throwing her hat, coat and scarf on the floor, retrieving her phone and calling Damian out so they could compare playlists.

Bruce and Dick just watched her with – respectively – unimpressed and amused face expressions.

“I think you should get her checked by a specialist.” Bruce muttered, as if it wasn’t Dick busting the offending Jingle Bells version a second ago.

“Yeah, what can I say, she’s a huge fan of the app.” Dick shrugged with a playful grin, knowing that this night would be very long torment for Bruce.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing x y/n #dick grayson fluff #nightwing fluff

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

Text

Give You Blue

Epilogue

You are my universe, my everything, my sunset. You still give me butterflies, my lullaby. You are everything I wanted.

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

cw: switching POVs (reader is second-person, Eren is third), fluff, established relationship, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), cunnilingus, face-riding, spit play, pet names (sweetie, honey, sweetheart, princess, good girl, baby)

Previous Chapter

Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3

Author’s Note: Just an excuse to write a little bonus chapter about these two! Fluffy, adorable, and happily in love! Also a little smut added to the mix. Thank you everyone for reading this story all the way through the end! Love and appreciate every single one of you. What a journey this has been. Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated, as always.

It’s 11:45 PM, New Year’s Eve, fifteen minutes before the start of the new year. You leave your family gathered downstairs to head up to your room, shutting the door quietly, tapping your boyfriend’s contact on your phone screen.

Eren answers after two rings. “Hey, cutie. Hold on.” There’s shuffling, like you’ve been temporarily put in his pocket. In the background, you hear him announce, “Mom, I’m pretty tired. Going to bed now.”

“But you’ll miss midnight!” she responds.

You hear his dad chime in. “Let him, honey. He can make his own decisions.” There’s a hint of bitterness in his tone that even you can detect on the other end of the line.

Your boyfriend lets out a nervous chuckle, muttering a quick, “Happy New Year.” There’s more rustling, then sounds of steps going up stairs, ending with a gentle thud of a door closing. “Sweetie? You still there?” he asks, finally alone.

“Yeah, I’m here.” You smile into the phone, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he greets back. “It’s so nice hearing your voice.”

“I feel the same way,” you reply, falling back into the mattress, gazing up at the ceiling. “How was tonight?”

“Oh, you know, the usual: My mom cooked too much food for three people and my dad has been sneaking little jabs at me. Nothing new.”

Eren officially changed his major before the end of the semester from pre-med to education, a huge weight lifted off his shoulders while a tinier one replaces it, aka his father’s overall disapproval. Dr. Jaeger stood by his word, threatening that he would no longer support his son financially once he made the switch, to which Eren has been preparing for. He has two new on-campus jobs lined up for him at the start of the new semester, along with the weekly music session at the elementary school Erwin Smith’s dad works at. The first week of winter break, he was ready to apply for a few loans to help him throughout the rest of his term. Then, to his shock, his father approached him, informing him that he will actually continue to pay for his education, on the condition that he graduates with outstanding grades and a job guaranteed. Eren’s sure it was his mother who was behind the change in heart, to which he’ll forever be grateful for. Unfortunately, this hasn’t stopped his father from making snide remarks here and there.

You sympathize with him, saying, “I’m sorry.”

His charming grin is audible through the phone. “Don’t be. I can handle it.”

“Where’s Mikasa? And your brother?”

“Mikasa left this morning to spend the rest of break with Jean. And Zeke had to head back to prepare for some conference, so he’s actually in your neck of the woods right now,” he answers, referring to your hometown and current location: Marley. He adds, “To be honest, I wish I was there too.”

You smile, kicking your feet, belly fluttering with butterflies. “We’ll see each other in a week. Do you really miss me that much?” you tease.

“More than anything.”

Swallowing hard, sentimental words dancing on the tip of your tongue (I miss you too, I think about you every day), you remain silent, too shy to get them out. Instead, he continues speaking, changing the subject to talk about what his mom prepared and the new year traditions behind them. She decided to do a spread of German foods this time around: pork sausages for good luck, sauerkraut for more money, and lentil soup for even better luck. He tells you about his childhood, popping open apple cider to tip into everyone’s glasses, watching the fireworks light up the sky from a distance, igniting sparklers outside with Armin, Mikasa, and the other neighborhood kids on the street. You listen to him intently, imagining a young Eren with that same signature bright smile he dons as an adult; warm, genuine, full of light. It’s no wonder you fell for him, especially in a time of your life where you were shrouded in darkness from the fallout of your heartbreak, unsure when you’d ever see sunshine again.

I love you. Every time you think it, you double back, convincing yourself that it’s too soon, too much in such a short amount of time. After all, it’s only been a little over a month since the two of you officially became a couple. Wouldn’t it be crazy to express such a weighted confession?

When there’s a small pause in the conversation, finished with his stories, you start, “Eren,” ready to admit it.

“Oh, it’s already 11:59!” he interjects, excited. “How many seconds do we have left?”

You turn on the TV, switching to a local channel that’s displaying a countdown. “Ah, ten seconds!” You watch the clock, listening to Eren announce the numbers in your ear. At three, you join in. “3…2…1…Happy New Year!”

Downstairs, you hear your family cheering, clinking flutes of champagne or cider with each other. The sound of fireworks bursting can be heard faintly through your window. On the opposite end of the line, Eren says, “Happy New Year, beautiful. Wish I could kiss you right now.”

You smile. “Me too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to join your family downstairs?” he asks.

“Positive. I want to start the new year with you.”

He laughs softly. “Me too. And you know what? For the first time in a long time, I’m actually excited about the new year. I used to dread going back, always so anxious about my new classes. All the tests and projects I had to work on during the semester. Even interacting with my classmates because it was always so competitive. Now, my new curriculum sounds interesting, and I feel good about my cohort. I just know this year is going to be a great one.” He pauses, choosing his next statement carefully. “I’m also looking forward to us. We’ve got all the time in the world now. I can’t wait to create so many more memories with you.”

Your heart beats faster, taken back by his sincerity. You decide not to confess to him tonight, not because you’re unsure, but because you mean it more. Those three words don’t seem enough to express that to him. Not yet at least. There’s no pressure to rush into anything; as he said, you’ve got all the time in the world.

~~~

Spring semester of sophomore year starts off smoothly, especially for Eren. This is the only time during his collegiate career that he’s felt at ease. While he’s equally as diligent as he was before, he enjoys the material he’s learning, rather than stressing each passing day like he once was. Having his supportive girlfriend by his side is also a huge help, maybe the biggest of them all. He’s never been happier.

Technically, it’s forbidden for RAs to date their residents. However, that hasn’t stopped them, often sneaking into his room to do what couples usually do. Quite frankly, neither are worried about hiding it, considering the rest of the dormitory residents are well aware of the relationship and unfazed by it. Still, whenever one of Eren’s managers visits, he’s extra diligent in keeping that information private.

As for her situation with her ex, she has completely moved on, and seemingly so has he. Occasionally, she’ll spot Reiner walking around campus with his fraternity brothers or classmates. She and him will exchange a cordial head nod, polite wave, sometimes a reminiscent smile, but nothing more. Acknowledging each other’s presence, understanding there’s no more left to their story. A fleeting moment of reminiscence about their past life together, gone as soon as it appears. During these times, Reiner will flash a serious glance at Eren. It’s not threatening or malicious, more like a cautionary warning. He can’t blame the guy; after all, Reiner was her first love, and vice versa. Despite their relationship coming to an end, deep down, they must care for each other to some degree. Even as the new boyfriend, he can understand that, so he remains unbothered by it.

Despite his father agreeing to continue the payment of his tuition, Eren decided to work at least one part-time job this semester to supplement date nights or gifts for his girlfriend. His job is being the front desk of the school library, helping students locate resources or manage the study rooms. For the most part, his schedule is manageable. However, when the week of midterms arrives, it gets a little more complicated. The facility remains open twenty-four hours on weeks like this so students have a place to study at all times. Driven by the increased pay during the night shifts, Eren offers to work them without thinking how it’ll affect his daily routine. It’s only after the first night that he realizes he won’t be able to see his girlfriend until the week is over. With her being just as busy with group projects, there isn’t a time they have free to see each other. So, they settle for voicemails and text message spanning the next few days, which in Eren’s mind, pass by like weeks, maybe months. He misses her.

Finally, Friday comes, and exams are over. After his last class, he heads straight for his room, knocking out for a long nap. He wakes up to gentle tapping on his door. When he answers, he’s thrilled to see her, smiling brightly at him. “Hi.”

Before he can respond with words, he launches forward, wrapping her in his arms. “I’m so happy to see you.” He buries his nose to the top of her head, inhaling that familiar scent he’s been yearning for all week long. “I missed you so much.”

She laughs, music to his ears, warming his entire soul. “I missed you too.”

He pulls her into his room, pushing the door closed by pressing her up against it with a kiss. They stay like this for a while, his hands caressing her cheeks, her fingers hooked to the waistband of his sweats, tugging ever-so-slightly towards her. They kiss each other, languid, soft, and effortless, like this is exactly where they’re meant to be. He’s been deprived too long without her. He won’t waste another second.

She pulls away, leaning back to look at him. “Are you hungry? Do you want to get dinner now?”

He smirks, mouth grazing her ear. “I am hungry, but for something else.” One hand trails down to her hip, squeezing. “I’ve been starving for you all week. Dessert first, then dinner.”

She giggles, nipping at his lower lip. “Are we calling this dessert now?”

“Yup,” he grins. “Because it’s going to be so, so sweet.”

~~~

Within minutes, your clothes are tossed to the floor, stripped and bare in his bed, sheets twisted beneath as your lips smack noisily with each other. “Can I taste you now? Please?” Eren asks.

You nod, rolling onto your back, spreading your legs for him. He shakes his head, hoisting you over him. “Not like that. I want you to ride my face.”

“What?” you stammer, surprised at the suggestion.

“Ride my face,” he repeats.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure. I want it so bad, baby.” The way his voice sounds needy and desperate has your pussy throbbing. Carefully, you straddle him, lowering yourself slowly. His hands slide around your thighs, gripping you. “Come on. Smother me, sweetie.” More aggressively, he shoves you to his face, tongue already out and licking at your clit. You grasp onto the headboard, rolling your hips onto his mouth, head thrown back in pleasure. His moans are muffled, vibrating into your skin with his lips puckered to your bud, sucking.

Soon, you’re coming for him, slick gushing from your slit. He drinks it up, slurping it noisily, his hips thrusting into nothing, cock stiff against his abdomen. “Fuck, you taste so good. Think you can ride my cock now, princess?”

Still reeling from your orgasm, you whimper in response, readjusting yourself so you’re on his lap, sliding your slippery cunt along his erect shaft. He rests his head on his palms, elbows splayed, watching you. “That’s it, baby. Get it nice and creamy with your cum. You’re doing such a good job.”

The praise spurs you on, rubbing yourself on his dick until you’re ready for him, tingling all over. You sink down, cock sliding in smoothly until he bottoms out, your pussy entirely full of him. He plants his feet to the bed, thrusting into you gradually. “I know you already came, but can you give me one more, sweetie? Just one more?” It sounds like he wants to add a pretty please to the end of it, nodding his head affirmatively, looking up at you with innocent eyes while he fucks you relentlessly.

You let out a pathetic whimper, nodding along with him, totally captivated. He smiles so sweetly, the tinge of wickedness in his eyes almost goes unnoticed. Almost. Your boyfriend can be a real menace sometimes, acting tender as he man-handles you like his own personal sex doll. His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh. He’s breathing heavily, exerting all the energy left in his being to give you the best fuck of your life. You bounce on his lap until your legs are spent, yielding all control to him. One hand travels up your spine and lands at the nape of your neck, caressing you, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. His tongue swirls into your mouth, pushing his thick saliva past your lips. He halts his brutal thrusts, hard cock all the way inside you, pussy throbbing around it.

“Open up, sweetie,” he says. You’re high off his cock, too dumbed out to think rationally, so you obey his command, sticking your tongue out. He bites his lip, studying you like you’re the prized treasure he’s about to collect. He tips your head towards him, leaning in close to spit a wad of his saliva in your mouth. “Swallow.” You do, guzzling every drop of it down your throat.

“That’s it. Such a good girl,” he coos.

“Give me more,” you groan, sticking your tongue out.

He grins, smooching your nose. “You like it, don’t you sweetheart?”

You nod, eyes half-lidded as he does it again, his hot, frothy spit coating the inside of your mouth. Arms coiled around his neck, you clutch onto him tightly, electricity rippling from your core throughout the rest of your body as he pumps his cock in and out of you.

“Eren,” you whimper, nuzzling his ear. Maybe it’s the heat of the moment, or the fact that you haven’t seen him all week and you missed him so much, you’re bursting at the seams. In a breathy huff, it slips out. “I love you.”

Suddenly, he pauses, stunned by your confession. He holds your face between his palms, staring at you with a serious expression. “What did you say?”

“I love you.”

His lips part, dumbfounded and in a daze, with his dick still hard inside you. It’s not what you imagined it would be like, but in this moment, you wanted to get it off your chest. It’s been simmering within you since New Year’s, and while it’s not the most luxurious of settings, it’s intimate and special, especially with the way his eyes twinkle. “You love me?” he reiterates, clearly in disbelief.

With more confidence, you reply, “I love you, Eren.” You nuzzle your nose to his, smiling. “I love you.”

He laughs, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you, too. I’ve loved you this whole time.”

The two of you giggle into each other’s mouths as you kiss, Eren whispering “I love you” in between. You rock your hips onto his lap, making love slowly until eventually, you come together, skin hot and dewy with sweat, hearts thumping loudly against your chests. He cradles you in his arms, peppering more soft smooches around your face, intertwining his legs with yours. A perfect fit.

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