#It’s the line “they’re always picking on us when their General’s not around��� from the show which is interesting to me

[glitter50000]

The statement of “The Little Palace has done significant process of the treatment of Grisha in Ravka and it provides safety after what they went through” but also “It’s not wrong to not want to go as you’ll serve as a soldier and the Grisha do act like pompous assholes sometimes” can co exist I think

[flowerxbunnie]

Tattoo artist matt 🫦 and he’s praising the reader and telling her she’s taking it really well 🫦🫦 and she gets addicted to it and keeps coming back for more tattoos 🫦🫦🫦 and he’s like ‘wow you’re single-handedly paying my bills, this one’s on the house’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦 and she’s like ‘no, i gotta pay you.’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 i think you know where i’m going with this

ps I love you 💋

Ink

Tattoo artist!Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: needles, blood, pain, tension, no smut (yet?? 😏) but veryyyyyy suggestive at times

6.3k words

Your skin is tender and raw, a soft wince drawn from your mouth as your tattoo artist wipes the excess ink with a rough paper towel.

“So proud of this one,” Alex beams as she scoots back in her chair, the wheels rolling her towards her supply cart. She grabs a roll of plastic wrap and some tape before using her feet to roll back toward your chair. “Let’s get you all wrapped up.”

“It turned out so good, dude.” You say in awe as you hold your arm out to her.

“Did you expect any less?” She jokes, wrapping the wound snugly and taping it up before shooting you a smile. “All done. Keep the wrap on for a few hours. It’ll be a little leaky, that’s normal. Wash once a day with unscented soap… blah blah blah you know the drill. Still legally obligated to tell you.” She chuckles at the end, standing up to throw away her stained gloves. “Come up to the desk whenever you’re ready.” She says before she turns on her feet and heads to the front of the shop.

You stand up and gather your belongings feeling the adrenaline rush a new tattoo always seems to bring out of you. Your arm pulses and slightly burns, a sensation you’d become addicted to over the past couple of years. You’re not covered in ink by any means, but you’ve gotten your fair share, all done by Alex.

You love the way her shop feels more like a home than a sterile clinical office. Tapestries are hung haphazardly across the walls, strings of fairy lights sprawl across the ceilings and there’s more weird little knick-knacks strewn about than you could ever imagine counting. Your favorite is the preserved butterflies she has in shadow boxes lined down the hallway.

Once you gather your keys and bag, you take the walk to the front and admire all the sketches pinned along the walls. Alex is waiting for you with a warm smile as she tells you the total. You sit your bag down and rummage for your wallet, gathering the money along with a generous tip as always.

“You want the change back?” She asks as she counts the bills.

“Just take the fucking tip Alex.” You raise an eyebrow at her.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” she chuckles humbly, shaking her head as she sorts the cash into her vintage register.

“I know I don’t have to,” you laugh, tossing your wallet back into your bag, “I want to.”

You grab the strap of your bag and throw it across your shoulder, knocking a binder off the counter in the process. You let out a quiet curse as you bend down to pick it up, flipping it over to look at the cover.

“Oh, you should look through that!” Alex chimes in excitedly. “It’s a bunch of flash pieces that are up for grabs. They’re going quick, you should pick one out!”

“Oh nice..” you thumb through the pages, studying the intricate artwork tucked behind sheet protectors. “These are so good Alex..”

“You think?” She asks, bending down to restock her glass display cabinet with more tattoo salve.

You turn page after page, seeing traditional pieces like tigers and roses, more abstract watercolor pieces and some random goofy sketches of cartoon characters. You stop when you come across a snake separated into segments with the word ‘collarbone’ scratched underneath of it.

“This one is so detailed,” you say, running your fingers across the sheet protector. “Why’s it all broken up like that?”

Alex stands back up to her feet and looks over the page, her brows furrowing a bit as she adjusts her glasses. “Oh, it’s because it’s made to look like it’s wrapping around your collarbone. Like it’s going into your skin kinda.”

“Oh, sick,” You say excitedly, “I’ll take that one then. When can you get me in?”

“That’s not mine, girl. That’s the new guy’s design. You may have seen him here before? He transferred here like three…ish months ago?” She rambles as she sorts through a stack of paperwork.

You think back, not recalling seeing a different face in the shop. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone new. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been here and you usually get me in and out.” You pull the binder closer and admire the tiny detailing of the snake skin. “He looks pretty good.. but I don’t know if I can cheat on you.” You sigh jokingly.

“Honestly, he’s fucking amazing. His card is right there if you wanna make an appointment.” She points to a carousel of different artists’ cards. “Matt… the black card.. yep that’s it.”

You stick the matte black card in your bag and give Alex a humorous warning glare. “If he fucks my tattoo up Alex I swear to god.”

“Just make the appointment, Y/n. He’ll do good, promise. Why would I hire someone whose work I don’t trust?” She laughs and steps out from behind the counter, walking towards the door. “Now get out of my shop, I need to rest my eyes.” She laughs as she pulls the door open.

——————

You dig through your bag, pulling out hair ties, loose sticks of gum and countless receipts as you search for your favorite chapstick. “I swear I left it in here,” you think out loud, gasping as your finger slides across the corner of something sharp. You pull your hand back, sucking back a curse and see a tiny paper cut on your finger, laughing at the fact that something so small can hurt so bad. You reach back in and grab the culprit, a black sturdy rectangular card.

Fuck. It’s been 3 days.

You look over the card.

Matt Sturniolo

Appointments by text.

Come get somethin’ nice!

You pull out your phone and create a new contact, typing the 10 digit number slowly and double checking, making sure you got every single one right. You let out a sigh that you’ve been holding back, deciding to drop your worries, bite the bullet and make the appointment.

Alex won’t care, she doesn’t mind. She wants me to.

He thinks I’m a guy, funny, you think to yourself, locking your phone and sitting it on the counter.

—————

The week comes and goes, the same mundane routine dragging you through the creeping days. It’s finally Friday, meaning you’re risking the integrity of your skin on an artist you’ve never even met before, let alone vetted his work. Sure, he can draw a sketch but can he execute it just as well into your skin? The entire drive to the shop you shuffle through your playlist while your fingers absentmindedly tap against the steering wheel, mind racing with every possible outcome.

You sit in the parking lot, nerves at an all time high as you scroll through TikTok trying to numb your brain while the minutes pass. You quickly peek up to the clock on your dashboard, heaving a sigh.

5:32.

Fuck. I still have way too much time.

You groan quietly and put your phone down in your cupholder, leaning your head back against the headrest and close your eyes. Your left foot taps slowly against the footrest in your floorboard, creating a steady rhythm, pulsing along with your music that quietly hums in the speakers. You pick your head back up and grip the steering wheel with a huff, tracing your hands up and down around the warm leather.

Your eyes follow passersby as they stroll and pace down the sidewalk, essentially people watching. Your hand somehow makes its way to your mouth without realizing, your nails picking and pulling at the skin of your lips habitually. You only notice when you taste the bitter metallic flavor of blood on your tongue, silently scolding yourself as you pull down your vanity mirror.

You lick the wound and pull your sore bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly hyperaware of the shriveled, dehydrated state they’re in. Leaning across your car to reach for the glovebox, you pull it open and grab the lip oil you leave in your car for moments like this. You shut the glovebox and center yourself in the reflection of the mirror, opening the tube and applying a much too generous amount of the gloss to your lips. You smack and pucker your lips, appreciating the way they seem to come back to life, plump and slightly tinted.

You look to the side as you run your finger against the corner of your mouth, cleaning up your work. A small blackboard that sits outside the door of the shop catches your attention, propped up and smeared with chalked in words. It lists the information for an upcoming tattoo fair, has random small sketches littering the board, and lists a social media account near the bottom.

Follow us! @LoveBuzz on IG!

Why haven’t I ever thought of that?

You pick your phone up out of the cupholder after you slam your mirror shut, clicking the Instagram icon and typing the handle into the search bar. You click on the account, seeing that Alex’s individual account is linked at the top as well as a piercer, Darren, who you’ve met a couple of times. You scroll down through the feed, seeing copious photo collages of fresh versus healed ink and videos with music edited into the background, featuring Alex working her magic in the shop.

You scroll past a reel of Alex promoting a clean brand of tattoo healing balms, your finger coming to a still as you land on a video of a man hunched in his chair, his body leaning over as he works a tattoo gun into someone’s leg. You can’t make out much of him from the video, but he’s clad in a stone washed black t-shirt and jeans littered with ink stains. Tattoos sprawl across his left arm that pulls at the person’s skin, holding it steady as he moves the dripping needle back and forth. Though his face isn’t visible, you notice his wispy, umber brown hair that falls forward as he works. Light catches the strands and outlines each wave as they cascade over his brow bone. Scrolling down, you read the caption.

“Matt may be new but he is making himself well known in the shop! Text him to book, slots are filling up fast!”

You scroll further and find more pieces done by Matt but can’t seem to find a tagged account. Your shot nerves are soothed a bit as you examine each flawless piece of art, every one of them so perfect it’s almost like a printed photo taped to skin. You can’t deny that the man is talented. You scroll down until you reach the very first photo that mentions his name, dated three months ago just like Alex had said.

Maybe I do trust him.

You break yourself from the distraction of your phone and check the time again, quickly fixing yourself in the mirror as you realize you need to head in immediately. Your soft fingers brush down the wild flyaways in your hair in an attempt to look as put together as possible. Grabbing the handle of your bag and slinging it across your shoulder, you turn off the ignition and step out of your car, making sure to lock the doors behind you.

You feel the ground beneath your feet meeting your body in shockwaves with each step you take towards the familiar building. In the reflection of the glass you watch your figure grow closer. You let out one last deep exhale as you grip the iron handle, pulling it open and feeling the cool air shoot across your skin.

As you step in and the door falls closed behind you, you take notice that the front desk is unoccupied. Distinct chatter can be heard over the music playing in the studio just down the hall and past the foyer, deep rumbling tones that you can’t piece together. You’re familiar enough with the shop that you feel comfortable going back without a so-called escort, so you grip the handle on your shoulder and begin the walk down the dimly lit hallway.

The walls open up into the studio and the music is so loud it almost vibrates your skin. You step closer to the source of the voices, one of them being the piercer you’re familiar with. He stands talking expressively with his hands to another man who sits with his back facing you, arms behind his head as he leans back into his chair.

“Is Matt here?” You question, looking around the rest of the studio.

The men continue on with their conversation, completely unaware you’d even said anything over the racket of the rock music. Clearing your throat, you step forward, just about six feet away from them at this point and speak up once again.

“Is anyone working the desk right now?”

The piercer turns his head to face you and the man in the chair spins around, planting his feet to stop himself.

His blue eyes catch your attention first, so bright the gaze is almost difficult to keep. But you do, and so does he. He drops his hands down from the back of his head, one of his arms coming to lay on the armrest of his chair and the other stroking the stubble that peppers his chin. The tattoos across his left arm in contrast to the blank one on the right tell you that this is your guy, this is Matt.

What you don’t know is how he feels his blood pumping hot at the sight of you. He does his best to keep his eyes above your shoulders, but he can’t help letting them wander down your supple, shining skin, immediately thinking about how soft it must be. Matt sees so many women everyday, some in very compromising positions, but just the sight of you standing in front of him has made him feel weak. The way you look so innocent and bright, juxtaposing the way you’re standing in front of his sketches of skulls and anatomically correct organs being feasted on by animals.

You feel a wave of awkward silence even through the intense bass sounding through the speakers. You ask once again if anyone is working the front desk, but your voice struggles to overpower the volume. You see Matt’s cheeks pull up into a chuckle as he reaches back around to the table, fishing for his phone and clicking the volume down considerably.

You huff, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice as you repeat yourself for the fourth time. “Is anyone working the front?”

“I’m sorry honey, we don’t take walk ins.” He rasps as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “You’ll need to make an appointment.”

“I have one.” You retort, resting your weight on one of your legs.

The bearded man walks away to his piercing station, leaving the two of you in a sort of awkward staredown.

“Alex is out today, and I’m expecting a guy to be walking in any minute for my next appointment. Are you sure yours was for today?” He asks smoothly.

“You’re Matt right?”

His shoulders tense when you say his name, but he relaxes them as he nods his head. “Yeah, I’m Matt.”

“Oh, well then yeah.. I’m Y/n. Collarbone snake for 6 o’clock.” You clarify, pulling out your phone to ensure you had the date and time right.

His eyes widen and he silently scolds himself for assuming something so bold while being utterly wrong.

“Yeah, here it is.” You turn your phone to face him, stepping closer.

“I must have been tipsy when I replied or something,” he laughs and sits up in his chair, running his hands through his hair to soothe his embarrassment. “I assumed you’d be a dude for some reason.”

“No, at least not since the last time I checked.” You giggle, tossing your phone into your crowded bag.

His laugh gives you a sense of satisfaction, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he catches his breath. “Shit, that’s my bad then.” He says while pushing himself up to stand, his arms flexing under the tight sleeves of his shirt.

“No worries.” You give him a genuine smile, not wanting him to feel any more embarrassed than you can already tell he is from his flushed cheeks.

He steps forward with a long stride, his frame much larger and taller than you expected once he passes you to head to the hallway. He tries to ignore the way his pulse quickened with the way you beamed up at him moments before, walking quickly to the front desk.

You follow behind, breathing in the lingering scent his cologne leaves in his trail. Stepping in front of the counter as he grabs a stack of haphazardly sorted papers, you grab a pen from the cup in front of you.

He slides them over to you, groaning as he flips them so they’re facing your direction. “Might not be much help reading them upside down.” He chuckles. “Alright, so I’m assuming you know the drill, yeah?” He nods his head at your arms, eyes flickering over the ink.

“Mhmm..” you hum as you concentrate on crossing off and initialing boxes stating you don’t have any medical conditions hindering you from getting tattooed.

Matt watches in silence as you skim over the pages, twisting the pen between your small fingers. He places both hands on the ledge in front of him and moves ever so slightly closer, enough to watch your lashes as they brush your cheeks with each blink. If he got any closer you’d probably feel his breath hitting your skin.

You print and sign your name on the bottom of the last page, capping the pen and tossing it back into the cup. He’s stepping back as you look up at him with the papers outstretched, deciding ogling over you isn’t a very professional first impression.

“My ID is already on file.” You say as he takes the stack and turns to the side to run them through the scanner.

“Well look at you, smart girl huh?” He jokes, pressing buttons to send the papers through the machine.

You feel warmth creeping up your neck and across your cheeks as the words fall from his lips. “I mean,” you pause with a giggle, “Alex is my only artist so I know she’s got everything she needs from me.”

“And you’re cheating on her with me?” He chuckles softly as he steps out from behind the counter, turning to head back towards the studio. “Let’s get this started, shall we?” His voice is quiet, his back to you as he walks ahead.

Matt’s shirt is stretched thin across his broad shoulders, and you absentmindedly let your eyes sink down his arms, following the veins that trail from them into his hands as they swing. His walk is confident and steady, unwavering.

Part of him wishes he had let you walk ahead of him so he could selfishly glue his eyes to your legs, drinking up the way your shorts hug them perfectly. But he has to keep this professional, you’re just a customer.

He walks to his table, gripping a handle and maneuvering the headboard so that you’ll be partially sitting, partially leaning back. “Go ahead and have a seat for me.” He gestures you to the table.

You sit your bag in your lap as you adjust in the seat, a chill running through you as the cold textured leather presses against your back. Matt stands over his supply cart, looking back and forth between you and a few sheets of paper.

“I printed a few stencils but they’re all man sized..” he laughs, crumpling them up and tossing them into his trash bin. “I’m gonna have to free hand it.”

Your eyes widen as he grabs a marker off the top of the cart and pulls the lid off with his teeth, scooting his rolling chair up to your table. ���Uhh.. are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Honey…” he laughs, his head falling forward before he looks up at you with a grin. “You know I sketched the design free handed, right?”

You silently curse yourself and do your best to laugh it off, but you definitely made yourself feel incredibly dumb. Somehow he switched the mood and made it feel like he was laughing with you instead of at you, though.

“Alright… first let me…” he trails off, looking around his table before replacing the marker with a fresh razor. “I know you don’t have chest hair, but I kinda have to clear the canvas regardless.” He gives you a humored smile.

He pulls his chair up, his left hand brushing your hair off of your shoulder and down your back. He grabs your tank top strap with a clenched jaw, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingers feel like jolts of electricity on your skin, like he shouldn’t be touching you, but also like you want more.

He’s a tattoo artist. Alex touches me everytime she does one of my tattoos. There’s nothing weird about it, stop making it weird.

You gulp and hope that your cheeks haven’t given away your feelings as he gets the strap out of his way and leans closer. You look forward, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with Matt as he slowly drags the razor across your skin.

“Alright there’s that.” He spins around and tosses the razor in the trash can, grabbing the marker once more. “Gonna sketch it out roughly right quick. It won’t look as detailed right now but I’ll add ‘em in later.” He mumbles as he tilts his head, bringing the marker to your collarbone.

Matt drags the marker across your skin with furrowed brows as he perfects the curvature of the snake to look like it’s wrapping around your bone. He can smell your sweet perfume permeating from your body, so close he can almost sniff out the individual notes. “You smell like candy.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. He bites down on his lip, shutting his eyes for a moment before he gets straight back to sketching, hoping you didn’t find it odd.

“Thank you!” You beam, “Funny enough it’s actually Prada Candy. I love it.”

He hums in response and finishes up his outline, rolling back to look at it from further away. “Sit up for me right quick.” He instructs and you listen. He nods his head, approving of his placement and sketch. “Let’s make sure you like it first.” He turns to the side and grabs a handheld mirror off his cart. He holds it out to you, his fingertips brushing yours as he hands it off.

“I love it! It’s the perfect size. Even just the sketch looks so good.” You grin as you study the purple ink in the mirror. You smile as you hand the mirror back to him, taking notice of the subtle curve of his lips.

“Great then. Already got the machine all set up and the ink wells filled. You ready?” He asks with raised eyebrows.

The look on his face tells you that you might have bitten off more than you can chew. “I… think I’m ready. Should I be worried?”

He sucks his teeth as he looks down with a stifled smirk. “Well… the collarbone isn’t the most pleasant place to get a needle jammed into your skin, I’ll leave it at that.”

You look to him with wide eyes. You’d never even considered how painful it might be, all of your other tattoos being on your arms and lower legs. “Matt, you’re scaring me.” You nervously laugh.

His stomach does a flip when you say his name for the second time today. He shoved the feeling down and reaches over, grabbing the tattoo gun in his right hand and turning it on briefly. The vibration sounds throughout the room and he assures it’s in good working condition before shutting it back off and looking up at you. “I think you’re a brave girl, you can take it.” He says lowly but causally as he rolls up next to the table, resting his left arm next to your shoulder.

The way Matt’s words fall from his lips like honey makes your skin feel as if it’s being licked with flames. You look down as he flips the gun on once again and dips the needle into the pitch black ink, the fluid dripping onto the table as he slowly raises it toward you.

“You’re gonna have to turn a little.” He almost whispers as he uses his left hand to guide your jaw to the side, giving him better access to your skin. “Alright, there we go.” He leans in as he brings the needle down into your skin, a sharp scratching and stinging pain making you gasp lightly. “You good?” He asks in a caring tone as he lifts the gun back up and scans your pained expression.

“Yeah, yeah.. I’m okay.” You breathe out. “Feels a lot different than arms and legs.”

You see him nod silently and lower the needle back to the surface of your skin, slowly pressing all the way down until he’s drawing the solid outline. He adjusts his left arm and places his warm hand onto your shoulder, his fingers gripping and pulling at the skin to keep it taut. He glances up at your face every now and again as he tattoos you, his view of your side profile and jawline begging him to keep looking. “You can move your head now. Got that upper outline all done.”

You turn your head to look at him, a smile pulling at your cheeks when you see he’s already looking up at you with hooded lids. He flashes you a small crooked grin before dipping his head back down and working on the rest of the outline. You squirm in your chair as the needle moves and works across your flesh, the area growing hot and tender.

You see a thin sheen of sweat forming on his arms under the heat of his overhead light, illuminating every dip and valley through the rolling veins on his hands. His wrist moves back and forth as he maneuvers the machine, his lip bitten between his teeth. Every few minutes his body must become sore because he moves his legs, adjusting in his seat before he brings his grip back to your shoulder.

He concentrates as he finishes the last of the outlining details, sitting up against the backrest of his chair and putting the gun down on his cart. “All done with the outline.” He smiles.

“Really?” You marvel excitedly. You peer down to take a look but huff once you realize you can’t bend your neck enough to get a good view.

Matt takes notice and leans over to grab the handheld mirror off his cart, except his left hand finds a spot atop your knee, sliding gingerly down your calf as he stretches toward his cart. As soon as his touch is there it’s gone. He leans back toward you and hands you the handle, smiling when you examine it in the mirror. “What do you think?”

You won’t lie to yourself, your pulse quickened when his hand brushed down your leg. Your only hope is he doesn’t notice the trail of goosebump he left behind in the absence of his touch. You struggle to find words, your mouth hanging open before you eventually find your voice. “I.. uh… l-looks really good.”

He exhales a small chuckle as he turns to switch the outlining needle for a shading needle. “Let me know if you need a break before I start this part.” He mumbles as he dips the set of needles into the well of ink.

You quickly shake your head. “Nope, get it over with.” You say flatly, closing your eyes. Shading is hit or miss, it either feels super relieving or like you’re getting shredded with a freshly sharpened cheese grater.

“That’s a good girl. All in one go, hm?” He murmurs as he scoots closer yet again.

He did not just say that. I’m thinking too much into this.

You give him a light chuckle and suck air in through your teeth once the needles meet your skin.

“Shhh.. you’re doing good. A lot better than a lot of crybaby men that have been on my table.” He coos as he drags the ink over the raw, bleeding skin.

If it wasn’t Matt you’d be much more of a mess. You’d probably be damn near in tears. But you can’t seem weak around him, so you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut as he shades and details the design. Your hands clench the air until your knuckles are white and throbbing, your body needing to release energy into anything other than the pain you’re in.

“Squeeze my arm if you need to. I don’t mind.” Matt proposes, stilling his movement and brushing his brown waves out of his eyes before looking at you expectantly.

You gulp and move your shaking hands to his bicep, wrapping your dainty fingers around the expanse of it lightly.

“C’mon, give me more than that.” He chuckles, “Just don’t squeeze hard enough that I fuck up your ink.”

You grip into his arm with more pressure, feeling his muscles expand and contract under his skin as he moves his forearm.

Thank god Darren left earlier. This looks so… personal.

When a small strained whimper slips out of your mouth he clears his throat, blinking hard as he wipes the tattoo with the paper towel in his left hand. He knows it’s because of the pain, he knows he shouldn’t enjoy the sound. But he does.

He can’t help himself as he finishes up the rest of the tattoo. He finds himself pressing the needle into your skin with more pressure than necessary, enough to draw more pretty sounds out of you and make you grip onto his arm. Enough for you to throw your head back onto the leather of the table, squirming your legs as you squeeze your eyes shut. He’d never do anything to mess up the integrity of his art, but god does he want to. He knows it’s wrong that his pants grow tighter with every move you make, every curse you let out as he pushes more and more ink into your skin. He sees this everyday, why is it affecting him like this?

The angel on his shoulder tells him to get the tattoo done, work fast and get you off his table. The devil on his other tells him to keep you here writhing and squeezing at him for as long as he can. His eyes drift across your sweaty face, your wet baby hairs sticking to your forehead. Your chest rises and falls as he digs in, taking his time to let the needle drag. His mind floods with sin, his hands desperately aching to pull the neckline of your tank top even a millimeter lower.

Your harsh squeeze to his arm snaps him out of his stream of thought, realizing he’d been keeping this on for too long, causing you unnecessary pain. Lifting the needle from your skin, he examines the finished piece for a moment. “All done.” He says flatly, pulling his arm from your grasp to set the machine down on his cart.

“Fuck… that was intense.” You breathe out, turning your head toward him.

“Mmm but you did great. Sat so well.” He praises as he grabs a bottle of cleaning solution.

You have no time to react before he’s squirting the liquid onto your collarbone, a harsh pulsing sting deep in your skin. “Oh that’s… fucking horrible.” You do your best to laugh through the sting.

He laughs along with you, nodding while he lets his eyes watch the droplets that flow down your chest and into the valley of your cleavage. He tears his eyes away and looks at his cart, scoffing when his box of paper towels proves empty. “Gotta go get some more paper towels,” he holds up the box, “be right back.”

“I won’t move a muscle.” You giggle and lean back onto the table.

He offers a quick smile before standing up, quickly turning around and walking to the utility closet across the studio. Once inside and out of view, he lets his hand wander down to the waistband of his jeans, slowly trailing lower to brush over his throbbing erection. He knows this is bad. He’s never had this kind of reaction to a client, and he can’t be crazy. He knows he’s seen you looking too.

He lets his rough fingertips push his shirt up and dip beneath his jeans and boxers, grabbing ahold of his pulsing cock with a slow, shaking breath. He pulls it up and tucks it into his waistband, knowing he can’t let you see the struggling tent in his pants when he walks back into the studio.

He quickly grabs a new sterile stack of paper towels and fills the empty box, sighing deeply before he begins the walk back to his station.

“They were up on a high shelf huh? Had to find a ladder?” You joke, poking fun at the fact he took longer than expected.

“Oh yeah. Had to call the fire department actually. Like when there’s a cat stuck in a tree.” He quips back with a laugh, sitting down and letting his chair roll closer to you.

He rubs the cleaning solution away and beams at his work. He may have taken longer than he needed, but damn if you didn’t get an insanely detailed snake piece. He grabs a package of Saniderm from his cart and peels the backing off, slowly applying it to the raw skin. “Leave this on for like two or three days, you can shower in it, sleep in it, the whole nine yards. It’ll start lifting and you’ll know it’s time to take it off.”

“Hmm.. Alex always uses plastic wrap.” You say questioningly, peering down at the clear bandage.

“That’s because she’s old.” He says matter of factly, peeling his gloves off and tossing them in the trash.

“She’s 35!” You chuckle and smack his shoulder.

“Yeah… old.” He replies as he fishes into his pocket. “Gotta get a picture of this, it turned out so sick.” He pulls his phone out and opens his camera, zooming in until he has the right angle and snapping a photo.

“Don’t post that, I bet I look busted.” You whine, sitting up and stretching your back.

“Well sweetheart, your face isn’t in the picture. But for the record, I think you look pretty good for a girl who just got a metric fuck ton of ink shoved into her collarbone with a needle.” He says as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Your breath hitches inaudibly in your throat, heat lapping at your cheeks.

I have to play it cool. He didn’t call me pretty. He’s saying I took the tattoo well, that’s all.

“Thanks, Matt.” You smile, throwing your legs off the table and letting your feet hit the floor.

“After you.” He gestures his arm out as he stands, knowing he has to take the opportunity to walk behind you this time.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and walk down the hallway, feeling his eyes bore into the back of your head the entire way.

Except his eyes bore into everything he missed out on earlier. Your toned, smooth calves and up to your plush thighs that wiggle as you walk. The curve of your ass in your shorts. The way your hips sway with each step, taunting his still half-hard member.

You reach the front desk and peek into the mirror on the wall to the left of it, admiring the fresh ink. You can’t stop ogling at it as he prints out a receipt, walking up to the register and silently watching you. You turn your head to him and mumble an “oops”, stepping back to the center of the desk and grabbing the receipt from him. “Only $120?” You exclaim, widening your eyes as you look up to him.

He gives you a light nod and a shrug, brushing his hand through his fluffy waves. “You took it like a champ. Plus, I know you’ll be back. Gotta give that recurring customer discount, right?”

You know your cheeks are fire engine red at this point as you dig for your wallet, feeling as if you’re taking too long.

Am I being crazy or is that flirting? He’s flirting, right?

You open your wallet and dig out the cash, adding a generous tip to the stack before you hand it over. “I really appreciate it, Matt.”

“Not a problem. You have my number if you need anything else.” He returns as he sorts the cash into the register. He flicks his eyes back up and meets yours, a brief, almost-too-long moment of eye contact held between you two.

You blink hard a few times before clearing your throat and nodding, stepping back from the counter. “You got it. Thanks again.”

You turn on your feet and head for the door, pushing it open while your brain spins with thoughts of your encounter.

What the fuck was that?

—————

authors note: part two??? lmk 😈😈😈

taglist: @solarsturniolo @lustfulslxt @whotfisade @soursturniolo @recklesssturniolo @worldlxvlys @chrisolivia4l @kiarastromboli @mattnchrisworld @cupidsword @kvtie444 @xplrfear @knowingnothingnoel @karlybbx @chrisfavoritepepsi @mwah0mwah @starsturniolo @christinarowie332 @fionaheartswomen @angelic-sturniolos111 @mqttittude @sturniolowhore @luv4kozume

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Can you write more Adam fics plz there so freaking good

Benefit of the Doubt PT.2

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff to Angst to comfort, General Adam TW’s, Reader lowkey-highkey has a complex about being loved, Panic attack (I’m not even sure if this is correct term or not), Adam is afraid of heights (makes sense in story) This is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader (Y/n is once again not used lol)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 3136

A/N: Hi! I’d like to Thank you all for the love and support on Part 1! It means a lot that you all enjoyed it as I loved writing it! I’d also like to apologize for this being a week late, I honestly had 0 idea on how to start this one and then a bunch of stuff in my life happened, so it was a mess.

So as an apology I tried to make this one longer than the first! (I seemed to go a little overboard but it’s fine)

Anyways I hope you all enjoy part 2 to ‘Benefit of the doubt’ and as always, if you do, please tell me if want another part in replies/requests/DM’s!

Proofread but of course could have missed something

Tags: @tired-of-life-86

To think love could feel this good.

You were made for it, to give it, receive it… You’ve waited your entire existence for this love, This closeness. It doesn’t even feel real now, even as you’re walking down the golden lined streets of heaven with his arm wrapped around you, all while you’ve been showing him around. The best places to eat, entertainment, or just a nice park. You made sure to show him all of it.

He kept his wings tucked to his sides, the gold contrasting with the white of his robe. The feathers at first glance looked sharp, but now, being so close to him, you could see each of them individually and how soft they must be.

“Hey Sweetcheeks, my eyes are up here”

You jump slightly “Sorry… Adam.” You avert your eyes away from him and focus them in front of you.

Adam laughed “I didn’t say you had to fuxkin’ to stop”

His wings truly were beautiful. It was hard to keep your eyes off them. Adam had only got to heaven recently, it made you wonder if he had the chance to use them yet. You remember when you were first created, wings took forever to get used to. You crashed and fell so many times before you figured out how to use them

Properly.

“Ok seriously, you keep staring, what the fxck is up with you?”

“It’s nothing, just…. Have you tried out your wings yet?”

“Uh, yeah totally, they’re rad as hell” Adam’s voice drifted off, the LED eyes of his mask looking away from you as you both walked. Was he… lying? Why would he lie?

You quickly walked in front of Adam, leaving his warm embrace, gently you took his hands as your wings picked you off the ground. The gust of wind with each flap softly blew around you.

“Well, come on, it will be faster than walking.” Your voice was soft and airy. Slowly, so very slowly, you lifted yourself higher from the ground, Adam’s hands locked firmly in yours, as he was pulled with you in the air.

“W-Wait a- shit- Wait a- motherfuxking second“ Adam yelled strand after strand of curses as you both lifted further and further into the air. His body flailed and his legs kicked against nothing. You pull him to you, his arms quickly snake around your waist, holding on for his dear After-life.

“Adam… did you lie to me?” Your voice was still so soft, so calm, so sweet.

“Fuck- yes I lied, I’m sorry, so put me the fuck down you crazy asshole-“ Vulgar as ever, his voice had fear in it, the LED eyes were forced shut and his grip around you was getting tighter and tighter.

Your arms wrapped around Adam’s head as you laid back, letting The wind breeze from the air pull and push you along its path with your wings soaring through the clouds..

“Adam, it’s ok, I promise you’re fine, all you have to do is open your eyes.”

You pet the back of his neck trying to sooth him which seemed to work after a few seconds. Adam didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to open his eyes. But the longer he kept them close, the more you would whisper soft words of encouragement to him. Eventually, his eyes slowly but surely opened.

“See? There is nothing to be scared of. I’ve got you.”

You hold him closer in your embrace. Adam looked below, the white vastness of heaven’s clouds beneath you both felt unreal, but as amazing a sight it was, Adam’s grip on you didn’t loosen.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t know how to fly yet?” You laugh a little, rubbing a spot on his back, just between his wings comfortingly.

Adam huffed and looked away “oh! I couldn’t fxcking see that!”

You held him close to you. The embrace seemed never ending, and you loved every second of it. Feeling the warmth of his plump body next to you was like a dream come true.

“Here let me just…”

You moved your hands slowly down his arms, caressing the soft flesh as they moved to eventually be at his hands behind you. You began to leisurely undo the grip he had around you.

“What do you think you're doing-“

“Shhh, relax, just trust me, ok?”

With each finger being removed from you, the grip lessened bit by bit, until eventually his hands were fully in yours. Your face leaned closer to his,

“Come on, just give your wings a good flap, trust me.”

“Ugh…. Fine but I swear to god if you let go-“

“I won’t.” Your voice was firm, yet still remained reassuring.

Adam didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. But what other choice did he have? He gruffs and extends his wings from his body. The wind brushed and tickled at his feathers. The way the light hit them caused a glare of gold to be cast from them, enveloping you both. Then, he gave two hard flaps of his wings, he lifted up slightly before quickly falling back to where he was.

“There you go! Now keep doing that.”

Adam continued, his wings slowly pushing him up and up before being sent back down when he stopped. This repeated for a few minutes until he finally got a grip on it. The entire time, you were laughing. Pure unadulterated laughs of joy.

Truly, to think love could feel this good?

“See? You're a natural!”

“Of course I am! I’m the Original Dick, obviously I’d… be good at this… flying… shit.” With all the parading he was doing he kept forgetting to use his wings causing him to fall. ‘A natural’ may have been an overstatement on your part, but hey? At least he hasn’t fallen flat on his face yet!

Gently, you led him through air, giving him reassurance every few feet you flew, never letting go. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Before you knew it a brisk orange sunset encased you both with its hue. That’s when you realized just how long you both had been flying.

“You must be tired with sightseeing all day… I think it’s time we go home and rest, yeah?”

“Home?” Adam’s voice sounded for a moment genuinely confused. Had he not been told he’d have a place to live in heaven? As much respect you had for Sera, you’ll have to file a complaint to avoid this with future souls.

You gripped his hand and opened your wings letting the wind lead you through the clouds and above the city. The angels below look like ants at the height you both were. It was peaceful, the flight back home. But it did seem… off? So… quiet? You couldn’t put it together, at least not at the moment, But Adam hadn’t spoken a word since you both left.

Adam, while yes, he was initially confused, it made sense to him, why wouldn’t heaven have a place for its people, a place for each of them to relax, to feel safe, happy, at home.

Home was such a weird word for Adam. Has he ever felt like a place was his ‘home’? The closest thing to it was the Garden of Eden but even that proved to be anything but a home for him. Ever since that snake entered his garden.

No. He can’t think about that now. He doesn’t want to have to think about that again. But oh-do thoughts love to worm their way back into your mind when you least want them to. He’s snaps out of his thoughts when your voice picks up

“Ok, we’re here! Just get yourself settled in and I’ll go make us something to eat. I didn't really know what food you’d like so I mainly just have junk food… I hope that's ok.”

Adam nods his head nonchalantly

You smile, waking him over to the small, plush couch in the living room and handing him a blanket and some pillows. Telling him to wait a second as you fetch some food, leaving him alone.

Adam thought your house seemed welcoming enough, ‘well… our house’ Adam thought. The living room was dark aside from a few luminous lights around the room as well as the small blue gleam from the windows from the night sky.

The couch was comfortable and the pillows just as much. And the blanket you gave him was soft and warm. This really was heaven, huh?

His thoughts are, once again, interrupted by your voice, “Ok here we go, I’ve got snacks and some soda” you say, handing him some of the many food you ravaged from your fridge and sitting beside him, wrapping yourself in the shared blanket.

Grabbing the remote lying next to you, you flick on the TV flipping through the channel before ending on a cheesy sitcom, you keep the volume low wanting to enjoy any conversation with Adam. Except… he never started one. So that’s what felt off.

The entire time you flew back home, got snacks and found something to watch. He hadn't said a word. You may not have known him long but even you had already picked up that he was an advid talker in a conversation.

“Is… everything ok Adam?” You whispered, not want to scare him with your random words.

“What kind of question is that, I’m fxcking fine… I’m fine.” His voice trailed off at the end almost getting as quiet as yours.

“Are you sure cause-“

“I said I’m fuxking fine!” His voice roared through the dark room. Gritty and callous, but you could tell it was meant to hide something. Something he didn’t want you to see.

“I’m sorry…” you paused. What did you want to say from here? What could you say? You took a deep breath and tried to continue. “I… I know I said this earlier… when Sera left.”

Adam’s LED mask looked away from you half shut eyes and a frown forming a scowl on it, but still he let you continue.

“But I’m going to say it again anyways cause… I mean it. I’m really happy to have you here. To finally have you home” you place your arm around Adam’s back rubbing it soothingly as let your head slowly lax onto him, gently cuddling close to him.

That word again… home. That’s all he could think about ever since he first heard you say it. Why? Why couldn’t he get it out of his head? His breathing was becoming unsteady with each new thought and image his brain made. Lilith and Eve, they were made to be apart of his home, for him to be apart of their homes. So why? Why did it end that way?

Suddenly Adam leap from the couch as fast as he could, the shear force knocking you to the other side of the couch, sending the food to scatter and drinks to spill to the floor.

“Adam!?” Your voice was frightened at the sudden movement. Adam looked just as frightened as you, at least from what you could tell through the LED mask. He suddenly began running, where? he didn’t know, the rooms in the house looked the same. But all he knew is that he needed to be away from you. You followed quickly behind him and pleaded for him to tell you what was wrong, but eventually he ran into a room and locked the door.

He looked around, already out of breath. He was in a bathroom. He felt his knees give out under him as he tried to slowly sit down by the tub. His breath heavy, it was hard to breathe, this stupid mask. He needed it off. But just as he went to do so,

*rattle rattle rattle*

The doorknob began to move followed by frantic knocking on the door.

“Adam! Are you ok?!” Your voice pleaded through the wood of the door.

“Fuxk- I'm fine! How many times do I have to tell you that shit” his voice cracked a few times followed by a strand of curses leaving his lips.

Home. The word repeated like a mantra in his head. Like it was mocking him. Was he not meant to have a place he called a home? To have someone to return to, who would tell him “welcome back!” Without even being told to?

Lilith hated him, Eve betrayed and hurt him like no one else before, ever. They were made to be with him, one was literally made to be his other half. The garden, his home, was taken from him because of something, someone he couldn’t control. it all comes back to him. That albino snake in the grass.

Lucifer, ‘The dreamer’… was this some sort of game to him? To toy with his emotions, treat him like some kind of plaything to mess with, to screw over? What kind of life was it? To have every opportunity and opening be broken down by him, And Adam being powerless to stop it?

“Adam! Please open the door!” Your voice was even more frantic now, knocking every few seconds before it quickly quieted down. Your body slumped against the door.

“Adam… I’m sorry if I hurt you or… or if I was going too fast… I didn't mean to… I’m so sorry…” your breath hitched with tears.

And then there was you.

You have been nothing but kind to him since you met him. You showed him around heaven, taught him how to fly and welcomed him home without having being told to. You were so different. So, so very different. Adam figure that out a while ago now. But in reality, it’s exactly why he was terrified.

To have someone who loves him so... unconditionally.

*click*

The sound of the door unlocking drew your attention and was followed by it slowly opening from Adam on the other side, still on the floor.

“Adam!” Your voice was low, already tired from crying. You crawled your way toward him before stopping in front of him, tears still falling from your face, “I’m sorry Adam, I’m sorry-“ you were cut off by a quick movement.

Warmth enveloped you, clouding your senses as a soft weight laid onto you. Arms wrapped their way around you in an embrace.

“Shit- it's not your fault, it was never your fault…” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his regular tone. Sincerity evident with each word. All you could do was hide into his large frame and cry at the words.

Adam was never good at comforting people. He himself was never comforted, so the concept was more than a bit foreign to him. But even still, he tried. Slowly he helped you both up from the bathroom floor and made your way back to the couch.

The floor was covered in the discarded food you both left behind. The spilled soda is now dried and sticky. Crumbs everywhere.

“Here.. let me get a mop and broom-“

“No just sit down, I’ll clean up the shit I made” you lay down on the couch and watched as Adam swept and mopped the mess from the floor. The entire time the silence hung in the air by a thread. Neither of you wanting to be the one to snap the string and speak.

Finally Adam got done cleaning the mess and made his way to the couch. He sat down and gestured for you to come closer. Crawling over to him, he wrapped the blanket around you both allowing you to snuggle into him.

“Do…” your voice barely audible “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adam looked hesitant but nodded.

“You know about everything, right? About… what all happened in Eden?

You nod against his chest content on listening.

“When… When Lilith left me, I thought I didn't care as much as I did. I thought she was a bitch and that was that. And it didn’t help that as soon as she left, I got Eve…”

He paused

“Then, when I found out about that shit between Eve and Lucifer… I didn’t care then either, but I didn’t understand why…” his voice hitched “but when I ate that damn apple… I realized how hurt I should have been. All the concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, learning all of it through that fruit, I realized one shitty truth… that the one I loved betrayed me.”

You hugged him tighter softly, your hands caressed his stomach as some form of comfort before he continued.

“For the same person- Both of them for that snake…”

“Adam… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“And that’s why… I’m scared. Scared that I will fuxk up again and get… attached to you. Because every. single. time. He ruins it. And I don't want to see that happen with you.”

Your heart ached for him, the saddening look of his LED mask as he talked only furthered your emotions. Slowly your hands made their way to his face, he looks at you confused, your fingertips crept under the mask before his hand shot up and held your wrist slightly, carefully not holding it too tight.

“Sorry fuck- I’m.. I’m not ready.”

You smile and nod understanding “Adam. I love you… with all of my heart. And I would never do what those two done to you. “

Adam thought for a moment deciding what to say.

“Promise?” was all he could think of, his voice, mind, and body were all too tired to speak more about it.

You slowly remove your hands from his mask, instead taking one of his hands into yours.

“I promise, I would never betray you, let alone talk to that man” ever-so lightly, a soft golden glow burned between yours and Adam’s hands, the gold flame was warm and comforting to both of you as it rose and grew in strength.

From the flame, a string wrapped and warped itself around both yours and Adam’s pinky fingers. The string tightened and loosened as it moved, before finally melting away leaving only two solid gold rings behind, One on Adam’s finger and the other on yours.

“What the hell was that?” Adam’s voice was filled with bewilderment

“A deal- or I guess a promise. In this case”

“Shit, You didn’t have to do that-“ this time it was your turn to interrupt him. You bring Adam’s hand to your lips, and give a kiss on his newly formed ring before lying down and cuddling into Adam.

“I know.”

For once in his life, Adam felt at ease with love. How easy it was to fall for you.

Is this what home feels like?

[stevie-petey]

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 :)

[srjlvr]

WEVERSE CRUSH !

YOUR favorite hobby after a busy schedule is going on weverse and trying to get jungwon’s(your classmates) attention so bad! what happens when it does actually happen? you get excited of course! but what happens when you get a reply from him every day?

OR in which you caught jungwon’s attention with your posts on weverse and now, regardless of his tight schedule and millions of fans who’s trying to get his attention, he’s only searching for your posts every day.

PAIRING idol!jungwon X idol&fan!femreader

GENER fluff , a bit of angst , comfort , type of classmates to lovers(?) but they’re basically strangers on weverse !

WARNINGS vv cringy i think , mentions of stress , awful humor and pick up lines ! (pls lmk if i missed something)

WC 4.9k+ (the longest i’ve written ever!)

NOTE this is to all of the fans that never got noticed by jungwon on weverse but do get a lot of spams💔 n e ways pls like this i worked hard on this☹️🤞🏻

NOT PROOFREAD!!

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 10:20PM jungwon! i had a busy schedule today but thinking about you always made me feel better🤍

“trying again?” one of your group mates glanced at you staring at your phone, “i’m just sharing how my day was” you shrugged.

“he’s got like millions of posts, you know that too” she chuckled, “instead of being online in your own group’s weverse you’re going online on your fan account”

“i’m online everyday you’re just overreacting” you rolled your eyes.

“why don’t you just talk to him in class? didn’t you say you both were classmates?” she pat your head.

you shook your head, “it’s not that easy, we’re both barely attending to class because of our busy schedule, and we basically stopped talking after a while”

“it’s the only way i can interact with him—at least hope so? idk”

“and what if he does notice you?” she suddenly asked, “what are you going to do then?”

“probably faint”

“you’re acting like a real fan right now”

“what do you mean acting? i am a real fan”

“no you’re not, you’re just crushing over him and don’t know how to properly confess so you’re using this app and hoping to get noticed” your other group mate barged in your conversation.

“i mean, you both are classmates but you’re always so desperate to grab his attention on weverse, what’s the point of that?” she added.

“it kinda like became my usual thing to do, before i log into our weverse i log into enhypen and leave a post there” you shrugged, “it’s one of my favorite things to do”

“you’re hopelessly in love” they both teased you.

“good morning!” you greet your classmates. your schedule was clean for the whole week so you decided were forced to go back to school.

your friends greeted you back and you sat at your desk.

“morning” jungwon mumbled as he entered the class.

it was a rare sight, jungwon’s never usually at school. his schedule is way busier than yours and considering the fact that you show up to school once a month, it was quite surprising to see jungwon’s presence.

“morning” you greeted back and he went to his seat at the corner of the class.

you missed him. you actually did. having a crush is more than just thinking about someone 24/7, it’s also about missing him.

jungwon is your role model, he had always been. being classmates for more than four years together, he helped you getting into the company you wanted and encouraged you to stay until you debut.

you went through all of this because of him and yet, both of you rarely even talk.

jungwon couldn’t quite explain why, perhaps it’s your pretty eyes that he gets lost while staring at them, or was it your smile that always ( no matter when ! ) lights up the world, his world.

he found himself getting all shy and closed up being around you, call it cheesy but jungwon just can’t stop thinking about you and missing you.

he tends to come to school more often these days, some might think he’s just trying to catch up with school, but truth is, he’s searching for you every day, to see you and your smile.

you sat at the front line while jungwon sat at the corner, which makes it easier for him to stare at you without you even noticing.

“should i ask him to eat lunch with us today?” you whispered to your seatmate and she nodded.

“i just don’t know—“ “morning! finally y/n we get to see you!” the teacher got in class and cut you.

after class you gathered all your stuffs quickly but stopped when you felt a figure standing in front of you,

“hey um” you coughed, “jungwon, i’m jungwon-“ he cut you off.

you froze, a bit taken aback, “no i know-“ “oh! oh right” he nodded.

“i was wondering if you’d like to grab some-“

“hey y/n! let’s go to the cafeteria!” your friends called you and you instantly frowned, “i can’t, something urgent came up and i need to go”

they nodded and left, you then turned to jungwon, “what did you want to-“ “it’s okay, never mind about that” he quickly mumbled and left.

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 11:34PM jungwon! i had school today but i had to leave early today because something urgent came up ): i missed lunch with someone i really adore and im really sad):

“hey jay! check this out” jungwon showed jay his phone. “what’s wrong?” jay asked after reading the post.

“it seems so weird! it happened to me today at school too” he coughed, “with y/n”

“y/n again? you never stop talking about her” niki joined in.

jungwon sighed, “i can’t stop thinking about her, it’s like she’s living in my mind rent free”

jay pat jungwon’s shoulder, he can see how sad is friend is and how difficult things are for him.

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: you’ll always have tomorrow to spend together!

“OH MY GOD” you froze, looking at your phone for a few good minutes until your group mates came in rushing, “ARE YOU OKAY?”

one of them held a pan in her hand, ready to attack any stalker.

“it’s-“ you tried to speak, “it’s-“

“just give me the phone!” another one grabbed your phone and looked through it.

she sighed when she realized what was happening, “really y/n?”

“what is it?”

the curious cats followed her and peeked into her phone, they all sighed when they saw what is this all about.

“i was about to experience a heart attack!! we don’t do those things y/n!”

“no but you don’t understand!”

“yang jungwon just replied to me!” you walked back and forth around the room.

“i need you to sit down and calm down!” the leader held your shoulders and dropped you on the couch, “it happened once and it probably won’t happen again, i’m really happy for you”

“if you don’t get noticed by him at school at least you got noticed by him on weverse”

“BURNNN” they all shout and giggled.

you know they were joking, your groupmates became your family in a blink of an eye. they take a good care of you, and worry about you 24/7, like good old sisters.

but what they like to do the most is to tease you, which you find very annoying, but they just find it really cute.

“i’m definitely going to keep an eye on her” jungwon said to jay who was sitting next to him, “i have no choice but to trust your instincts now” he replied.

“how was your schedule yesterday?” your classmate asked you the next day.

you laid your head on your desk and groaned, “it was pretty tiring most of the time”

they pat your head and let you off, without having any other distractions—you fell asleep.

“morn-” jungwon got into the classroom and noticed your sleeping figure.

he smiled to himself, finding you so cute and adorable with your head all smashed over your desk and your slow breaths that made him think you were choking there for a second.

“what are you looking at?” his friend put his hand over jungwon’s shoulder, “nothing, i was just thinking about something”

“y/n wake up!” you heard someone whispering. you slowly opened your eyes and was welcomed by your friends all gathered around you with a big smile, “what is it?” you uttered.

“someone got you this drink” one of your friends held out your favorite drink, “you slept through all the periods, it’s lunch time already”

you looked at your phone and gasped, “why did no one wake me up?”

“we tried, you just were in deep sleep”

“thank you for the drink, did you happen to see who that was?” you curiously looked at the drink as your friends shrugged, “we all went out to get our lunch”

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 6:08PM something really weird happened today at school! someone bought me my favorite drink and put it on my desk! do you think i should look for that person?

“look!!” jungwon, who was active on weverse suddenly noticed the post, “it’s the same person from yesterday”

jay sat next to him and peeked at jungwon’s phone, “why? did you buy y/n her favorite drink today without her knowing?” he giggled but stopped when he noticed jungwon started blushing, “you can’t be serious”

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: go search for that person!!

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: i wish you good luck🤍

“AGAIN??” you shout, you sat on the couch with your groupmates and made them all jump when you shout.

“again?” they sighed, “WAIT WHAT?”

you showed them your phone with jungwon’s replies and they all joined you to the shouts.

“you know what they say!” one of them said, “third time a charm!” the rest of you completed the sentence and giggled.

“i’m going to be full honest now,” another one said, “i don’t think there is going to be a third time”

“you never know!”

the next day you got notified that your “schedule-free” week was a complete lie.

“what do you mean i can’t go to school this week? you told me i’m free!” your argued your manager.

“some photoshoots and sponsors came up, i’m sorry it’s like that” she pat your shoulder.

“how am i going to see jungwon again?” you asked your group leader.

if there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s probably to listen and give advices, that’s why you find yourself always laying your head on her lap and venting out your concerns.

“it’s not like you’ve seen him a lot before” she said, “right?”

“no but it was different this time! i was actually ready to talk to him about everything”

“what do you mean everything?”

“i don’t know i—“ you sighed, “my feelings? the way i feel whenever i look at him? everything”

“you do realize that it’d probably be weird to confess to someone you rarely talk to, right?”

“i hate that you’re right” you rolled your eyes, “i was actually ready to befriend him, to get closer to him”

“you’re so boring y/n! you should be more bold!”

“what do you expect me to do?”

“show him that you’re interested in him without being too weird and confessing your feelings” she smirked.

“but how?”

“do you know how to rizz up someone?”

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 11:39AM jungwon! aside from stealing hearts, what do you do?

“are you serious with me right now? why did you post that!” you shout at your leader who was busy laughing her ass off, “is that what you meant by being bold?”

“that is how you rizz up people now!”

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: do you normally flirt with people so easily?

“OH MY GOD??” you dropped your phone and your friend froze, “don’t tell me he replied” she gasped.

“ALMOST INSTANTLY” you nodded and kneeled to get your now broken phone.

“NO WAY” she laughed, “third time a charm!”

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: but other than stealing hearts i think about you🤍

“slap me right now” you smacked your hand over your forehead, “okay” she slapped you.

“why would you do that?”

“you asked for it!”

on the other side, jungwon was giggling at his phone, staring at it for a few good minutes, that was until heeseung took his phone away.

“hey! give it back” jungwon tried to take his now stolen phone back but heeseung was too strong,

“i saw you smiling at your phone so i thought you were texting someone,” heeseung sighed and returned jungwon’s phone, “but weverse, really?”

jungwon shrugged, “i’m just replying to fans, they’re cute”

heeseung shook his head in return, “it’s not ‘fans’ you’re talking to, it’s only one specific fan you’re replying to”

“i’ve been replying to other fans too”

“that’s what you’d like to think”

heeseung was right, jungwon does only reply to the person he said he’d keep an eye on, which is totally fine, but at what cost?

“fans are starting to think you’re dating that person secretly, you should be careful” heeseung sighed.

“you’re right, that person just interests me” jungwon replied, “i have this weird feeling it might be y/n”

“y/n? why would she be on our weverse page?” heeseung tilt his head, “doesn’t she have her own group’s weverse page to go through?”

“yeah, but some posts of her really reminds me of situations that occurred between us,” jungwon nodded, “look, a few days ago she posted something that was really similar to what happened at school!”

heeseung took jungwon’s phone again to look through the suspicious account, “let’s just keep an eye on this account”

“that’s what i’ve been trying to say!”

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 11:45AM jungwon i was so surprised when i got a reply from you and dropped my phone💔 it’s broken now!!

“that’s—“ jungwon gasped, “that’s not what i meant to happen with my response”

heeseung just giggled, “i mean who wouldn’t be surprised to get a reply from their favorite idol?”

jungwon nodded and slowly tapped his reply.

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: haha i’d be surprised if i were you too!!

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: how will i ever be able to repay you?

“now it just feels like he’s flirting back with me” you chuckled.

“you caught jungwon’s attention y/n!” your leader giggled, “notice how he’s always replying to you almost instantly? it’s as if he’s waiting to see your posts”

you shook your hand, “no way! why would jungwon wait for me to be online?”

“that my friend,” she put her hand on your shoulder, “is up to you to figure that out”

the next day you begged your manager to cancel your schedule, with the excuse of, “i have exams coming up and i need to catch up, do you want to see me fail?”

and it actually worked!

today you’re going to see jungwon and talk to him, no matter what!

you arrived at school and sat by your usual seat, putting your broken phone on the desk and laying your head over your hands next to it.

you slowly drifted to sleep, school is too boring on the morning anyway!

as jungwon entered the class he first looked over your direction, of course he would.

he smiled to himself, he always does when he looks at you.

he then noticed your phone that was right next to you, it was smashed and broken, as if it was dropped.

jungwon gasped, he opened his phone and entered weverse, searching the account he’s been keeping an eye on, and that was it.

a dropped and now broken phone, it’s a match!

he took a picture of your broken phone and went back to his seat to text his members about the shocking news.

‘it’s definitely her’ he sent the text and added the picture of your broken phone.

‘i don’t think so, just because of a broken phone?’ jay responded.

‘yes! she said yesterday that her phone was dropped and got broken’ jungwon replied.

‘it might be a coincidence’ heeseung claimed.

jungwon was about to text them back but had to turn off the phone once the teacher entered the class.

first break of the day was a good opportunity to talk to jungwon. you woke up in the middle of the second period and thought about ways to approach him.

you searched for him in the class, eyes scanning every place until you landed on his seat, of course, that’s how he usually spends his first break. in his usual seat, with a snack in one hand and in the other he’s holding his phone and scrolling through social media.

you got up, suddenly feeling bold enough to make steps towards his seat.

“hey jungwon” you let out.

he froze for a second, then turning off his phone and putting away his snack, “oh, hey y/n”

“heyyyyy” you said again.

“hey?” he questioned.

“uhm” you coughed, “sorry”

“it’s okay, is there something wrong?”

“no no!” you shook your hand, “i was just wondering”

you was about to continue but your phone buzzed, you got a notification.

“your phone’s broken” he pointed out.

shit, you thought. “yeah” you giggled, “i uh—“

“i dropped it after my members decided to pull a scary prank on me” good one.

he nodded and chuckled, “so?”

“so,” you cleared your throat, “i was wondering if you’d like to start over again”

finally!! you cheered.

“i mean, you’ve helped me a lot through my trainee days and encouraged me to achieve my dreams but we stopped talking after i debuted and i really feel like—“ you spoke too fast and jungwon cut you off, “i’d really like that”

“really?” you asked and he nodded, “really”

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 8:50PM i asked my crush if he’d like to get to know each other again today!! he’s a person that really helped me through tough times and always encouraged me! we were good friends back then but stopped talking after a while, i really thought he was angry at me for some reason, but i couldn’t stop having feelings for him, so i made the first step today and he actually agreed!! im so happy!!

“you did WHAT?” your group leader asked you.

“i did it, i asked if he’d like to get to know each other aga-“

“oh im so proud of you my child” she hugged you tightly and pecked your forehead, “you’re all grown up now”

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: well,

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: i’m sure he wasn’t angry with you at all!

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: im happy that you two are starting all over again, who knows, maybe he feels the same about you ;)

“got you y/n” jungwon giggled.

“why don’t you just talk with her about it?” jake put his hand over jungwon’s shoulders as he stared at his phone.

“it’s difficult” jungwon frowned, “do i just go like ‘oh hey! i know you have a weverse account and i know your user, i have feelings for you too so let’s date’?”

“yeah!” jake nodded and jungwon groaned, “you’re no help”

“so? tell us everything” your members sat you on the couch while they surrounded you with some curious eyes.

“about?”

“about what happened at school!”

“i went to jungwon, asked him if he’d like to start over again, he said he’d love to, so we went together to get some lunch and talked about everything we missed, it was real fun honestly really recommend you to do that too—“

“did you confess, or not” they all asked.

“no why would i confess so soon”

they all sighed, “no drama, no fun!”

you rolled your eyes, “can we at least eat something now?”

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 9:27PM i don’t think he feels the same, but it was really fun to spend the day together with him, his company has always made me feel warm and comfortable.

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: im more than happy to hear that! first breaks are always so fun when you spend them with a person you like ^-^

you tilt your head in confusion, showing your phone to your members, “look at that”

they all read your post and his reply, “what’s so weird about it?”

“i never said i spent the first break together with him”

“DO YOU THINK HE KNOWS?” you freaked out, “OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD” you held your head, moving back and forth around the room.

“y/n calm down!!” your leader said, “maybe he just assumed it was the first break since it’s the first time of the day you get to spend with other people!”

“you’re right,” you breathed in, calming yourself down, “thank you”

next day you went back in track, your manager told you the next time you’d be showing up to school would be only on exams and maybe next month.

your schedule became busier than before, you barely had time to breath. going back and forth, from a phothshoot to an interview then practice and more.

you were drained and overworked, your phone hasn’t been touched ever since the last day you showed up at school, which means—you haven’t showed up on weverse a few weeks already.

you’d see jungwon only when you arrive to school to take exams, but then disappear right away after you finish them.

“waiting for a new update again?” sunghoon asked jungwon who was staring at his phone and refreshing the page every minute, “yeah” he replied.

“she’s always online around these hours” he added.

“have you seen her at school?” sunghoon asked, jungwon froze for a second, thinking about the last time you showed up at school, “only when there’s an exam we need to take”

“maybe she’s just having a busy schedule,” sunghoon shrugged, “you’re barely online when you have a tight schedule”

“right” jungwon nodded, “but i wonder if she’s doing well” he sighed and closed his phone.

the past days has been awful to you. you slowly felt yourself vanishing, like a lifeless soul walking around.

your groupmates always looks after you worriedly, you’d barely even talk to anyone.

“y/n what about eating something?” your leader asked you, “no i’m okay, i ate just a few minutes ago” you smiled.

that was a total lie, you simply didn’t feel like eating lately.

slowly but surely you stared at your phone, five minutes won’t hurt, right?

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 12:57PM haven’t been active lately and i miss being here and interacting with you jungwon! i don’t think i’ll be able to be active again so i’m here to say that you should take good care of yourself, eat your meals in time and rest when you need to.🤍 your health always comes first!!

you sighed and turned off your phone.

jungwon, who was busy staring at his phone and waiting for a new update suddenly jumped in his chair.

“finally”

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: im sorry to hear that, is everything okay?

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: i’ll make sure to take care of myself as long as you take care of yourself too 🤍

he replied immediately, as if he’s the one getting a notification from you each time you post something—when it’s supposed to be the opposite.

“jungwon we’ve recently found out that you’re suffering from that illness,” niki pat jungwon’s head,

“what is it?”

“the ‘weverse crush’ illness” niki laughed and jungwon sighed.

“you can’t stop refreshing the page to see a new post from her!” jay claimed, “and you’re replying so fast whenever she does post something” jake added.

“you should just get her phone number and text her” heeseung shrugged.

“but im not sure it’s her” jungwon turned off his phone.

“all clues points at her, it’s worth a shot” sunghoon nodded.

the next day you were forced to go back to school, your school principal complained about the fact that you’ve been missing most of your classes and nearly failing in all of them.

so it’s settled, you’ll be going to school for a month sharp, without any useless inconveniences.

first day of school after a while of not being there felt like a nightmare.

you looked at the school building with horror, yet, you felt a bit excited to see jungwon again.

you took your usual seat, put your earphones in and listened to your favorite song.

when jungwon entered the class, he was surprised to see you sitting there and staring at one point of the class.

he knocked on your desk and you zoomed out, “oh, hey” you smiled weakly.

something definitely happened while you were gone, “hey, it’s good to see you again”

the teacher entered the class right away and jungwon ran to his seat.

at lunch, you stayed in your desk, excusing yourself from your friends and going back to your books to read and study.

jungwon frowned, he has to do something about it.

he went to the cafeteria and got your favorite snack, he knows it’s your favorite, he remembers.

you were so focused on your study book to notice jungwon’s figure next to you.

“knock knock?” he questioned and you looked at him, making eye contact for a few seconds before looking away.

“hey again” you closed your book and focused on him.

“i got it for you” he handed you your favorite snack with a wide grin on his face.

“thank you”

silence. it was so quiet that you could even hear the birds outside.

“is everything okay?” he suddenly asked.

“huh?”

“oh yes, everything’s amazing” you smiled.

“we both know you’re lying”

turns out you were a bad liar after all.

“i’m not going to force you to speak,” he pat your shoulder, “but i’m here for you”

those words, were enough to break you down.

you felt comfort around him, you felt everything you feel around someone you’re in love with, you felt warm, welcomed and understood.

so you told him everything, from A to Z.

jungwon is known as his group’s no.1 comforter, and he’s now your personal no.1 comforter as well.

he knew the exact words to say to you and how to make you feel better.

right when you finished crying he told you a joke, and now you were shedding tears out of laughter.

“thank you” you looked at him with comfort.

“anytime” he chuckled and stole your snack, “you’re not crying anymore so i’ll just take that and save it for myself”

you rolled your eyes and kept messing around until it was time for another class.

wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍 : 8:30PM i had the best day ever today! i saw my favorite person ever at school today, after a long time i haven’t been able to see him! i also cried in front of him (was so embarrassing) but he comforted me so well, i think i’m falling in love all over again.

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: see!! lunch time can be so fun when you’re with a person you like too!!

↳ 여의도 홍보캣 replied to wonie’s bff (REAL!)🤍: i hope you’ll be able to spend more time together in the future!!

“he definitely knows” you freaked out.

“even if he does,” your leader clapped, “what’s so wrong about it?”

“what if he doesn’t like me back?”

“he does”

“how do you know that?”

“because i just do!” she sighed, “otherwise he wouldn’t reply to you so instantly as if he waits for your posts every day”

“you’re right” you nodded.

“but what if he does it just so he could laugh at me with his members?”

“not a chance” she groaned, “stop overthinking so much and just talk to him about it!”

“so um,” the next day, you dragged jungwon out of the classroom as soon as he entered.

you had to talk about it before the rest of the day continues.

“you have weverse right…?” you suddenly asked, “oh my god that was so stupid of me of course you do you’re an idol and—“

“i know it’s you” he cut you off.

“what?”

“isn’t that what you wanted to ask me?” he tilt his head, “i know it’s you” he repeated.

“and,” you wanted to continue but couldn’t find the words.

“i like you too” he suddenly confessed.

“wha—“

you were about to respond but he cut you off with a peck on your lips, “i said i like you too”

you looked at him, making eye contact for a few good minutes, both of your cheeks are now as red as a tomato,

and as you looked at his pretty face, you could notice how red his ears became.

“for how long?” you asked,

“ever since we started talking” he smiled, “your pretty smile, your beautiful eyes and breathtaking smile, everything about you just made me think about you all day”

“then why—“ “i couldn’t talk to you after you debuted, i was so scared it might hurt your image, and i couldn’t always find the right words to talk to you,” he looked down,

“i didn’t want to look like a loser in front of you” he kicked the air like a little child.

“jungwon” you smiled, “looking like a loser isn’t something to be ashamed of” you giggled.

“i like you, in any form or any shape or whatever!” you joked and hugged him tightly.

“would you like to go on a date with me today right after school?” he suddenly asked.

“so bold of you” you teased, pecking the tip of his nose, “but yes, i’d love to go on a date with you”

“can i finally call you mine?” he held your hand.

“of course” you pecked his lips,

“don’t get confused when you’re replying to me on weverse!”

••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.

[f4irys4n]

eating you out — maknae line

choi san

this man lives to eat pussy

he may not be perfect at it, he’s messy, and sometimes he may even overdo it trying to prove just how good he is. but god, does he make you feel good…

he has a huge sexual appetite, and i think that’s pretty obvious, but honestly it’s not even to get pleasure himself but to pleasure you; he could do it any and every day.

throw back to one time when you were literally on call to one of your classmates about a joint project and san was in between your legs the entire time, licking and sucking, making it extremely hard for you to hold up a conversation without moaning his name.

you could literally be laid on your bed, legs hiked up and within seconds san would be racing between your legs with a cheeky smirk on his face.

the type of man to spit on your pussy.. i did say he was messy.. he just loves seeing your wetness everywhere; on your thighs, his lips, his chin.. seeing your wet, sopping pussy just turns him on so much.

song mingi

now.. this man is a big pervert and he loves everything being so messy and dirty. he’s sloppy and messy when he eats you out, and he loves making you spill all over the place.

one of his favourite things to do is use toys on you whilst he eats you out. he'll either thrust a dildo into you whilst sucking and playing with your clit, or push a vibrator on your clit whilst his tongue explores your pretty hole. he knows how much it makes you whine so he can't help but use toys on you. he loves seeing you fall apart.

like i've said, he's a dirty man. and he loves eating you out whenever, but his favourite time to eat you out is straight after he's cum inside you. the second he'd finished pounding into you and filled you up, he'll automatically lower is head to your pussy and "clean you up" as he says, covering his lips in his cum to then give you the dirtiest kiss.

mingi loves seeing your body shake and shiver in pleasure. overstimulating you is his favourite thing to do with his tongue. seeing the way your body jolts and twitches when it's hand too much just makes his cock twitches.

much like san, he spits on your pussy when he's eating you out. like i said.. he likes it messy, real messy. he likes watches the wetness just trickle down your pussy, he finds it beyond irresponsible to look at.

he's pretty new to eating people out in general, so when he first started with you he was pretty nervous and shy about it, but over time he's gotten really cocky about how good he can make you feel with just his tongue.

jung wooyoung

for the love of god, this man IS perfect at eating pussy. if their was a god solely dedicated to eating pussy, it would in fact be wooyoung.

his tongue works absolute wonders, making you cum in minutes with how stimulated he makes you. his main aim is to make you cum at least a couple times before he even considers fucking you.

pussy slapping !!! it’s something he picked up recently, but randomly in the middle of fingering you and his lips were tightly wrapped around your clit, he pulled away and lightly slapped your clit just so he could hear your cute little yelps.

much like san, he could literally eat you out whenever, wherever. he’s always in the mood for a taste of your ‘pretty little fuckhole’ as he calls it.

this man has definitely made you cum multiple times in one encounter just with his tongue and fingers. it’d probably start off with wooyoung being mad at someone flirting with you, especially if they’re his friend, and even though you (and wooyoung) know you’d never thinking about moving on from him, wooyoung made it his mission to prove to you why he’s better than any other man… and hell did he prove it to you?

enjoys teasing you. he can be the biggest dick when it comes to teasing. you’ll be there eagerly waiting for his mouth and he’ll just lightly kiss around your thighs, eyes watching your face slowly get even more needy.

choi jongho

i’m all for dom jongho, he’s definitely a switch with a dom lean. but when it comes to eating you out, he gets a little shy. not because she isn’t good, but because you’re probably one of the only people he’s ever been with sexually; if not the only person; and he still gets nervous about it to this day.

he likes to ease you into it, he knows how sensitive you are, so she likes to start off with little kitten licks on your clit before he fully starts to work wonders on you.

jongho loves eating you out, it’s a big ego boost that he’s able to make you cum that hard with just his tongue. but ultimately, he much prefers fingering you, he likes how it allows her to hit that ‘perfect’ spot inside of you.

when eating you out, his fingers are his greatest ally. he likes watching you twitch and wiggle around at the pleasure both his hands and mouth is giving you.

i have a huge feeling that jongho would be really into public sex so there’s been many occasions where you’ve been hanging out with everyone at the arcades or a cafe and jongho’s pulled you off to the bathroom to have his way with you, legs spread and his tongue lapping over your wet pussy.

he loves giving you pleasure without any distractions, so he’s not really into anything like 69 because he’s not able to completely submerge himself in giving you pleasure.

[haikyu-mp4]

Hiya! Can i pls request Right Now with Ushijima? Thank you ❤❤

Now playing... Right Now

word count; 866 – gn!reader, for my 1D x Haikyu event

Ushijima wasn’t sure what made him so restless. Maybe it was because every task he did after coming back from work was halved. He made dinner for one, evening tea for one, and watched whatever he wanted on TV without any input from you. Everything he should be doing with you, he did by himself.

Playing in the Polish league was amazing volleyball-wise. The players were good and generally taller, presenting him and his team with new challenges and advantages. Training and playing was fun. He was also able to catch a few trips to visit Tendo, which he hadn’t been able to do as often before. Now he wasn’t that far away! But nothing could make up for the fact that you were now as far away from him as Tendo used to be. Unfortunately, your job requires you to stay in Japan.

Every night he felt it. Longed for the light snore he had come to associate with home. He felt it every time he was at his new apartment, and even more whenever something particularly new happened, something he would have to get used to or figure out. That’s when he needed his other half.

And right now, as he lay in bed after a long day of struggling with the language barrier and trying a new dish that didn’t quite work out, he wished you were there with him.

Rolling over and accepting that sleep wouldn’t greet him yet, he picked up his phone. He blinked a couple of times to get used to the brightness from the screen, switching the setting so it was more bearable before finally looking at the latest message notification. If he felt any drowsiness before, it was whisked away when he saw it was a message from you.

Call me when you wake up, my love. I have exciting news!

Wakatoshi checked the time back home in Japan before calling you immediately. It rang four times before he finally heard your voice. “Toshi! I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep. What is the exciting news, dearest?”

You giggled on the other end of the line, and the sound quality switched, so he assumed you had put him on speaker while multitasking. He smiled at the ceiling as he listened, closing his eyes and imagining himself there with you. “You know that company I sent you an article about? The one that’s completely home-office based,” you asked him, and he could sense an impatient excitement in your voice.

He hummed in confirmation. “I do. They seem to manage it very well so far, from what I read. It’s interesting, but I’m wondering how much they save on an office if they’re paying for part of the home-office expenses like they said they do.”

“I agree, but that does mean they get to pick and choose the best workers from all over the world!” you said, wiggling your eyebrows as if hinting at something, only to realise he couldn’t even see you.

“There must be a very large number of applications, I’m sure. I can not understand how they have the capacity to go through all of them,” he answered, seeming to get engaged in the topic, which was one of the traits you loved most about Wakatoshi. He always paid attention to the things you brought up.

“I suppose, but there might not be that many if you consider that people are not sure if it’s a reliable workplace yet,” you suggested. The discussion almost made you forget what you needed to tell him, but luckily he was there to get you back on track.

“You are very right. But are the exciting news related to this company? I did not know you were so invested in their growth.”

“Well, I certainly am now. They want me to work for them!” you squealed, and he could just imagine how you would dance around the kitchen.

His lips parted, and he stared into the nothingness of the dark roof as he registered what you said, and then slowly also realised what it might mean. “Congratulations. I did not know you applied.”

“I know, it felt like such a hopeless attempt that I didn’t want to talk about it. But I got through to the last interview and they really liked me,” you told him. Your happiness practically radiated through the phone.

“Of course they did, and they’re lucky to have you,” he said, and you were thrilled on the other end of the line when you heard his soft chuckle, undeniable proof of his joy. “Does this mean…” He dipped his tongue between his lips to wet them as a smile stretched out. “You could move here with me?”

Your steps echoed in the kitchen as you stomped your feet in excitement. “Yes! We can look at that tomorrow if you’d like. I miss you so much, Toshi.”

And Ushijima squeezed the duvet in the hand that wasn’t holding his phone as this immense relief overtook him.

Right now, he wishes you were there with him.

And soon, you will be.

“I miss you too, so much. I can’t wait to have you with me again.”

masterlist

[vanacoar]

Sneaking Around - Sebastian x F! Farmer

Rating: M

Warnings: NSFW (MDNI), oral sex, vaginal sex, terrible humor, submissive Sebastian, Farmer sneaking around with the sheer purpose of fucking the emo

Word Count: 5.7K

A/N: Sebastian brain rot continues

You and Sebastian had been “hanging out” for about two months, hanging out being the term you use because despite the fact that you’ve kissed him (only once you might add) the two of you hadn’t really defined your relationship yet. However, despite the fact that labels were currently up in the air, both of you were still hesitant to let anyone else know about the amount of time the two of you were spending together. Most nights you would find yourself precariously sneaking past Robin to make your way to your not quite boyfriends bedroom, where you two would spend the night watching terrible B list horror movies and eating stupid amounts of popcorn. If Sam or Abigail asked about how you two got along, you’d always find yourselves either deflecting away from the question, or answering with a “they’re pretty cool” or “they’re fun to hang with”. It was starting to grate on your nerves.

Tonight was no different. You approached 24 Mountain Road at about 7:30 PM, knowing that by this time Robin and Demetrius were more than likely getting ready for bed, and Maru was probably locked up in her room working on her latest invention. You had about 30 minutes to get in and get to Sebastian’s room before Robin came out to lock the door, like she did every night at exactly 8PM.

You opened the door slowly, freezing when you heard it give a small squeak of resistance. Deciding not to push you luck and risk it making more noise if you opened it further, you quietly slipped through the small gap you’d made before silently shutting the door behind yourself. The house was silent save for the quiet hum of a TV coming from Robin’s bedroom. You peaked your head around the corner, making sure her door was shut before slipping around and down the stairs to Sebastian’s basement bedroom, not even bothering to knock as you opened the door and rushed inside. Looking at the time, it was 7:45, perfect timing.

Looking around, you saw Sebastian at his computer, fingers nimbly ghosting along the keyboard as he typed line after line of code, eyes trained on the screen in front of him and headphones over his ears, it didn’t appear that he had even noticed your entrance. Perfect.

You clocked Sebastian as handsome the second you saw him on your second day in Pelican Town. You were out at the dock, Willy had sent you a letter to come by that morning and you were down there to meet him. It was a rainy Tuesday, most of the town were in their right mind to stay in doors in such nasty weather, but when you got to the dock, you noticed another person there with you, across the way on the opposite bridge. His hair was dark and plastered to his slim face, he sat at the edge of the peer, one knee pulled up to his chest, the other dangling off the edge, his elbow perched on his knee, a lit cigarette in his hand that he periodically brought to his lips.

“Who’s that?” You’d asked Willy after he’d gifted you his old fishing rod. The angler looked out to the opposite peer.

“Him? Oh that’s the carpenters boy, Sebastian I think his name is. He comes out here when it rains, kid’s interesting I’ll give him that.”

You met Sebastian properly the next day, he and Sam were outside Sam’s house, the blonde working through another level on his gameboy while Sebastian looked over his shoulder, cigarette in hand. Having already met Sam on your first day, you walked over to greet him.

“Oh hey, (Y/N)!” Sam greeted you when he looked up from the screen. “What’s going on?”

“I was just picking up some stuff from Pierre, thought I’d stop by and say hello.” You replied, holding your bag of goodies from the general store. “What are you two up to?”

“Nothin’ much, playin’ some games, chatting, that sort of thing,” Sam looked over to his friend before a look or recognition crossed his face. “(Y/N) I don’t think you’ve met Sebastian.” He pitched a thumb to the dark haired boy beside him, who only offered a glance to you. “He lives like right down the road from you.”

You took the opportunity to really look at Sebastian, he was tall, at least a few inches taller than Sam, who himself was not particularly short. His hair was dark, parted to the side and a stark contrast to the fairness of his skin. He was slender, the hoodie he wore looking to be a few sizes too big on his thin frame, his face was handsome though, sharp and angular with some of the most piercing gray eyes you’d ever seen, eyes that appeared to stare into your soul. “I’m (Y/N),” you greeted sweetly. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian.”

“Welcome to Pelican Town,” Sebastian’s voice was low but not extremely so, it was nice. “Out of all the places you could have gone, for some reason you chose this place.” He almost seemed amused. Something in your gut told you he was interesting.

You would spend the next several months getting to know Abigail and Sam, and it took a few more months after that for Sebastian to finally begin opening up to you. Getting through his thick outer shell was hard, but you eventually managed to crack it open, exposing the vulnerable boy underneath. The boy who felt displaced in his own home, under appreciated and undervalued by his mother and step father.

Right now, you leaned against the closed door of Sebastian’s bedroom, arms crossed over your chest as you watched him work. Normally he was done with work by now, usually waiting for you on his sofa or bed, but you guessed tonight was either a late night, or he had lost track of time, the latter would be your guess. You pushed yourself off the door, quietly slinking around his desk to stand behind him, watching for a moment as strings of code appeared on the screen as he typed.

Tonight would be different. Tonight you were finally going to get a label out of him, you were tired of not knowing what you meant to him, when you knew he meant so much to you. Slowly and gently, you placed your hands on either of his shoulders, feather light touches as you smoothed them over the soft fabric of his jacket, curling your arms around his neck as you leaned down to rest your head on his shoulder.

His fingers paused on the keyboard, taking a moment before reaching up to pull the headphones from his ears, turning his head slightly to greet you, a slightly tired look in his gray eyes. You smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek. “It’s almost 8 computer man.” You said against his skin.

“It’s that late already?” He asked, glancing down at the time at the bottom of his computer screen. Quickly, he moved his mouse over to the button highlighted ‘save’, and closed his file, turning around in his chair so he could face you clearly. “Any ideas on what you want to do tonight?” He asked. His eyes were completely innocent, as was the question, your mind however, was less so.

“I’ve got a couple.” You answered as he stood from his chair, once again towering over you, walking over to a shelf to look through his movie collection to find one the two of you hadn’t already seen. Yes, you definitely had a few ideas in mind.

***

Sebastian was always so warm, you’d noticed as you laid next to him on his bed. He was practically a furnace with the amount of heat he kicked off. The two of you sat in silence as the movie played, some cheap knock off of Godzilla, the effects were terrible and the script was laughable but that’s what made it fun. It was always like this, sitting side by side, arms occasionally brushing but other than that, minimal contact between the two of you. Originally, when the two of you first started these “date nights” you though that maybe he didn’t like you the way you liked him, but then you remembered that night, looking out at the lights of Zuzu City in the distance. He’d kissed you that night, so clearly he was interested in more than just a friendship. You kept expecting him to make the first move, an arm around your shoulder one night, maybe a hand on your thigh, but no, he was ever the gentleman, every night keeping his hands to himself, it was starting to drive you up the wall. However, you had made your decision, tonight you were going to make some waves, whether those waves were good or bad, was yet to be seen, but it was time to enact the first past of your plan.

You maneuvered, feigning a desire to get more comfortable when in reality you were moving to get closer to Sebastian, encircling one arm around his front to rest at the hem of his hoodie, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. You felt him freeze for only a moment before he relaxed into it, one of his arms coming up to wrap around your shoulder, forcing your head off of his shoulder and onto his chest. Part one was a success! Now for part two, which was going to be a little more tricky.

Your fingers played with the hem of his hoodie, occasionally slipping underneath just enough for the slightest touch of skin, the first time you’d done it the poor boy jumped, your fingers were cold against his heated skin, but he didn’t stop you, instead, the hand he had wrapped around your shoulder began tracing lines up and down your side, it was hypnotizing to say the least, but you had to stay focused.

Slowly, you slipped your fingers further and further under his shirt, you felt his abdominal muscles tense as you traced patterns onto his skin, making sure to keep your face schooled, as to not let him in on your plan. He was handling it well, fingers on your side rarely faulting, even as you looked up, placing a chaste kiss on his throat. You lips lingered on his skin for a moment before you pulled away.

“Something tells me you’re not watching the movie.” Sebastian said, despite the obvious amusement in his tone, you heard the slight waver of his voice. So you were effecting him.

“I’m watching something more interesting.” You whispered agains the skin of his neck.

“Why do I feel like you’re throwing out some hints?”

“I’ve been throwing out hints for the past few months but thanks for noticing.” That got a light chuckle out of him, just a soft breathy noise.

“How could you ever be not 100% enraptured in discount Godzilla?” Sebastian joked, finally looking down to meet your gaze, his eyes were cool, but you saw the glint of interest in them, curiosity even.

“Is discount Godzilla more interesting then a willing and eager girl in your lap?”

“Well I don’t know, seeing as there is not currently a willing and eager girl in my lap.”

“So sorry, let me fix that.” You sat up, slinging a leg over his lap so you were properly straddling him, his hands immediately coming to rest on your hips as your tucked your head against his shoulder, placing another kiss on his throat.

“You’re right, this is much more interesting than discount Godzilla.” Sebastian laughed as you planted a kiss just below his ear, before sitting back to meet his eyes. “Now my only question is what to do with her.”

“I’ve got a few ideas.” You said as you leaned forward, slotting your lips with his, the first kiss you’ve had with him in months and it was intoxicating. The kiss itself was chaste, innocent, just like the first one had been. It only lasted for a few moments before you pulled back, Just far enough to look him in the eyes, those steel gray eyes that had caught so much of your attention the first time you saw them. Your hands slid up his chest to rest on his shoulders, one of your thumbs grazing over the skin of his throat, such fair skin, skin that you would love to mark all over.

You don’t know who moved first, but before you knew it your lips were back on his, a desperate kiss that had you gasping as you pulled him infinitely closer, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you in. You practically shoved your tongue into his mouth, earning a desperate whimper from him, a sound that went straight to your core. One of your hands came to rest at the base of his throat, pushing ever so slightly, not enough to restrict his breathing, but enough to push him back against the headboard, a gentle knock of his head against the wood.

Your other hand moved down, once again slipping beneath the hem of his hoodie to press against the hot skin of his abdomen. “Take it off?” You asked against this lips. He didn’t make a verbal response, instead only nodding as he reluctantly pulled away from the kiss. You helped him pull the hoodie up over his torso until he tossed it across the room, where to, you didn’t care right now. “Good boy.” You said before you could stop yourself. You froze for only a moment, waiting to see his reaction, but instead of rejection, you were met with a whine. A fucking whine! You knew the game to play now.

You smiled into his lips when you kissed him again, hands moving to travel over his now exposed chest. “Are you going to keep being good for me?” You all but whispered against his mouth. You felt him nod. “Use your words, Sebastian.”

“Yes.” Was all he said before you moved lower, planting open mouth kisses over his neck, starting just below his ear. You contemplated leaving a mark, nice and dark where he couldn’t hide it, so everyone would know he was taken, spoken for.

You could feel his growing erection under you, straining against the fabric of his jeans. You planted a kiss to his collar bone as one of your hands traveled south, cupping him through has pants. He hissed at the friction your hand gave him, his head once again falling back against the headboard.

“This is definitely not what I was expecting to happen tonight.” Sebastian panted out as you applied more pressure to his clothed cock. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes again.

“Do you want to stop?” It was a simple question, and if he said yes and you would, no questions or rebuttals. He was silent for all but a moment before,

“No.” You smiled as your lips found his again, your hand moving from his cock to the button of his jeans, popping it open to slip your hand inside and palm him through his boxers.

“Tell me, was it the ‘good boy’ that got you this hard?” You asked, and you swore you heard him moan.

“Among other things.” He hissed out as you wrapped your fingers around him through his boxers. You smiled, you were going to wreck this boy.

The movie was still playing in the background as you coaxed Sebastian to lay on his back, chest heaving as you pulled your hand from inside of his pants, only to hook your fingers into his waistband, pulling his jeans and boxers together far enough to let his cock spring free, precum already leaking from the tip, he was so worked up and you felt as if you’d hardly done anything yet.

Part of you wanted to pin him to the bed, climb on top and ride him until you couldn’t remember your own name, but that could wait until the next time, tonight you had a very specific plan. You wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, squeezing slightly just to hear him hiss. Leaning down you placed a gentle kiss on his hip bone, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Red means stop.” You said as your hand began to move, sliding to the head of his cock. He nodded, panting as you collected the precum at the tip into your hand to use as lubricant as you stroked him, slowly at first, letting him get used to you, experimenting with different levels of grip before you started working him faster.

Sebastian brought a hand to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles to keep from making too much noise as your hand stroked up and down his length. You felt him attempt to thrust up into you hand, at which point your other one came to pin his hips to the bed, drawing out another whine from his throat. Sebastian was well endowed, a solid 7 inches, thick enough to take your entire hand, your fingertips barely meeting, staring down at his swollen cock, you couldn’t help but wonder what he tasted like.

You leaned down, flattening your tongue against the underside of the head, and he nearly wailed, would have, had he not brought his other hand to press against his mouth as well. You could tell he was getting close as your closed your lips around the head of his cock, laving your tongue over the slit, feeling him shudder beneath you. His moans got louder, higher pitched the closer he got, all the way until he was at the precipice, ready to fall, when suddenly you pulled away.

Sebastian gasped at the sudden change, nearly choking on the air, meeting your eyes, you could see the tears in his eyes. You grinned, placing a gentle kiss on his stomach. “I didn’t say you could cum yet.” You smiled as you dragged your tongue up his chest to lap at his throat, this time not hesitating to suck a mark there, marring his fair skin for all to see. He was still panting, trying to catch his breath.

“Please,” he whispered as you began your descent down his torso again, giving gentle nips to his skin along the way, until you once again reached the bones of his hips, flattening your tongue over his skin. “(Y/N), please.” You smiled against his flesh.

“Please what?” You looked up at him again, his face was flushed, pupils blown out wide with want, breath coming out in short pants.

“Please let me cum.” He said so nicely, you were tempted to give in, but what’s the fun in that?

“And how would I do that, baby?” You stroked the skin of his inner thigh, well what you could reach with his pants still in the way.

“Please touch me.”

“I am touching you, Seb.”

“No.” He flopped his head against the pillow. You smiled once more.

“You gotta be specific babe.” You started, tracing soothing circles into the skin of his hips. “Tell me.”

He was silent for a moment, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “Please touch my cock.” There it is.

“Good boy.” You said as you hooked your fingers into his waistband again, this time pulling his jeans and boxers all the way off, shoving them to the floor as you made yourself comfortable between Sebastian’s legs. You heard his whine again, his hips giving an involuntary thrust up at the praise. Your clothes felt too tight, still fully intact as Sebastian lay in front of you completely bare, spread out and waiting for you to take him. You leaned down to press a kiss to the base of his cock, ripping a choked out gasp from his throat as you dragged your tongue from his base to the tip, tasting the saltiness of his precum at the head. Wrapping your lips around him once more, you took him further into your mouth, letting the tip of his cock hit nearly the back of your throat before pulling back again, dragging your tongue along the underside as you hollowed your cheeks, hand wrapped around what you couldn’t fit.

His hands found your hair as you proceeded to take him in your mouth, lavishing his cock with your tongue. The noises he made switched from moans to whines and back again as you moved your head up and down. He clasped a hand over his mouth to keep the noises from being to loud, not wanting to let the whole house know good he was being taken apart. His grip in your hair tightened as he painted your name, a litany of ‘please’ and ‘yes’ sprinkled in. He was getting close again his hips thrusting up into your mouth. You let him.

“(Y/N),” he choked out your name as you took more of him in your mouth. “(Y/N), close, so close, please, please.” He sounded wrecked, eyes shut and tear tracks down his cheeks as you sucked hard, moving just a little bit faster. You wanted to feel him cum, taste him and swallow everything he had down your throat.

Sebastian’s back arched off the bed as he came, flooding your mouth with his cum, which you happily took. He gasped soundlessly as his body tensed around you, his grip in your hair nearly painful, but sending pulsing heat to your core nonetheless.

He collapsed back on to the bed, chest heaving with the intensity of his orgasm. You let his softening cock fall from your lips, climbing up his body to kiss him again, pushing your tongue into his mouth with little resistance, smiling at his responding moan. His hands came up to wrap around your waist again, pulling your closer and deepening the kiss.

You felt his heated hands slip under your shirt, his palms flat against your sides as he slid your shirt up your torso. You broke the kiss, sitting up so you could completely remove it, reaching back and unclasping your bra, tossing it across the room. Sebastian’s eyes were glued to you, sitting up to press his lips to your chest, kissing your clavicle before moving lower, planting kisses over the curve of your breasts, one hand coming up to graze his thumb over your nipple, pulling a startled gasp from your lips. His fingers trailed deftly down your torso, fingertips calloused from years of typing, as he reached the waistband of your jeans, popping open the button and pulling the garment past the curve of your hips, along with your panties. You moved to get your jeans off of your legs, dropping them to the floor as you moved to once again straddle Sebastian’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him.

“And to think, we could have been doing this the whole time instead of watching B list horror movies.” You stated against his lips as you rolled your hips against this, his cock starting to once again so interest.

“What you don’t think discount Godzilla adds to the mood?” Sebastian joked, and you found yourself giggling into his mouth.

“Something you wanna share with the class about your affinity for Kaiju?”

“He must have a massive cock.” This time you really laughed, tucking your head against his shoulder, he smiled against your hair as his hands strokes up and down your sides. He placed a kiss just under your jaw before you found yourself on your back, Sebastian hovering over you, he leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to your lips. You gladly open your mouth for him, letting his tongue into your mouth as he settles himself between your legs.

He kissed under your jaw, trailing his lips down your throat, you felt him sucking marks into your skin, but you didn’t care. He trailed further, placing kisses down your chest, sucking a few marks onto the curve of your breasts before dragging his tongue over one of your nipples, you arched your back into his touch, which he was all too pleased about by the look of his smile when he began to continue his descent down your body. He kissed down your stomach, down to your hips, where he marked you again. He carefully pushed your thighs further apart, admiring how you were spread out before him. He latched his lips onto the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, pulling a gasp from your lips as he sucked another mark there, and another and another until you were sure your inner thighs were going to be black and blue by morning.

Your breathing was heavy as he inched closer to your core. “To think,” he started, propping himself on one elbow while the other hand came to brush his knuckles against your throbbing heat, a ghost of a touch, but enough to light your skin on fire. “All this time you’ve been giving me pleasure, when you were so worked up yourself.” He slipped on of his fingers through your folds, teasing just at your entrance, but never daring to push inside. You were desperate to feel him inside.

“Well you were being so good for me, how was I supposed to focus on anything else?” You felt Sebastian sigh against your thigh. You wanted to tell him to hurry up, to put his mouth on you, devour you like you knew he wanted to. Instead he proceeded to place kisses everywhere but here you really wanted him. You were about to say something when without warning he licked a strip from your entrance to your clit, making you choke on your gasp. Your hands find his hair as he does it again before focusing his attention on your swollen clit, his arms wound around your thighs, pulling your legs further apart and half yanking you down further to meet his mouth. One of your hands moved from his hair to your mouth, covering it with the back of your hand to stifle the loud noises that wanted so badly to breech from your throat.

Sebastian lapped at your core like he was a man dying of thirst and your soaked cunt was the only source of water. You thrust your hips up, or tried to, as he had your hips in an ironclad grip, arching your back as he gave a rough hard suck to your clit. “Sebastian,” you gasped out, you felt him hum against you, sending a spark of electricity up your spine. Your grip tightened in his hair. “Fuck, baby, so good, you’re doing so good.” You babbled out, barely registering the moan from the man between your legs as he pulled you impossibly closer. The room was filled with the lewd slick noises of Sebastian’s ministrations on your cunt, combined with the quiet moans and gasps that escaped your lips, muffled by your hand. You wished you could be loud, make sure he knew just how good he was working you, just how thoroughly he was wrecking you with his tongue, but you definitely didn’t want the way Sebastian’s family found out about the two of you be because they were woken up at 1 am by the sounds of their son giving the sweet farmer girl from down the road the most amazing sex of her life.

You barely contained as scream when two of his long fingers penetrated you, scissoring inside of you as he stretched you open. He thrusted the two digits in and out of you, curling them in a come hither motion that had you seeing stars. You were getting close, each lap of his tongue and curl of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Don’t stop,” you panted, gripping the pillow behind you for leverage as your spine arched off the bed, attempting to get closer to him, if that was even possible. “So close, baby I’m so close, fuck, make me cum.” Sebastian hummed against you again and you felt yourself fall, the coil wound so tight finally snapping as you came, hand locking over your mouth to keep your scream inside as your body tensed, your lungs spasming as you tried desperately to take in air. He worked you through it, only pulling away when you pulled at his hair. He placed kisses over your hips and up your stomach as you panted, kissing up your chest and neck until he reached you lips. Your hands tangled into his hair as he kissed you, one hand gripping behind your thigh to hike your leg up over his hip, you could feel his cock, rock hard against your core.

The movie had long since ended, the bright white words spelling ‘play’ being the only thing to illuminate the room. He gave you a minute before reaching down to align himself with your entrance, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pushed into you, making you impossibly full as your hands scrambled for purchase over the skin of his back, your nails surly leaving angry red marks over his flesh. You pressed your lips against his shoulder as he bottomed out inside of you, buried to the hilt inside your heat. You could feel him trembling above you, not daring to move just yet, you let him get his bearings while you lavished the skin of his neck and shoulder with kisses, nipping gently at his skin.

Before long you felt his pull almost all the way out, covering your mouth with his own before slamming hard back into you, swallowing your gasp. He set a steady pace, fucking into you roughly while your nails bit into his shoulders. The room was full of the sounds of gasps and broken moans as he slammed into you, one of his hands coming to grip at your hip, lifting your hips just barely off the bed, but allowing him to get so much deeper, and you couldn’t help the moan the was ripped out of your throat, although he didn’t seem to care much as he buried his head against your shoulder, nipping at your sensitive skin as he picked up his pace.

Your moans became high pitched, trying desperately to stifle the noise by sucking mark after mark onto his shoulder. “Sebastian, seba- fuck.” A litany of his name fell from your lips, panting against his flesh before he faced you again to engulf you in a breath stealing kiss. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You pleaded into the kiss.

“(Y/N),” he all but moaned as his hips stuttered. He filled you so completely, his cock hitting every spot inside of you on every thrust, the grip he had on your hip tight enough you were sure you’d have bruises by morning, and you wanted them. You were approaching the edge again and fast, as you grasped for any kind of purchase, legs wrapping tight around his waist as his pace got faster and faster. “Close,” he gasped against your lips. “So close, fuck, (Y/N).” You tightened your legs around him, pulling him as close as you could.

“Come on baby,” you encouraged him, gasping at a particularly well aimed thrust. “Cum for me, fill me with it, I want it please!” You gasped out, Sebastian choked on air as his rhythm started to stutter some more. He grasped your body tight as he came, his cum spilling into you, filling you more, you toppled over the edge with him, letting out cry as he fucked the both of you through it.

Eventually the only sounds in the room were the sounds of panting, as the two of you caught your breath, Sebastian propping himself up on his elbows as he hovered above you, before slowly pulling out of you to collapse onto his back, chest heaving.

“Wow,” he choked out. You turned to your side to look at him, his dark hair scattered, unkempt from the way your fingers had raked through it, figuring your own hair wasn’t much better. You smiled up at him as you moved to lay your head on his chest, his arm coming to wrap around you, fingertips tracing lazy patterns into your skin. “Next time we have sex, we’re doing it at your house.” You felt your heart warm at his words.

“Agreed,” you said, planting a kiss on his chest. “That way I can hear all those pretty little moans.” His responding whine sending a dulled heat back to your core.

It was quiet for a while, part of you though he had fallen asleep, you were startled when he spoke. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He all but whispered into your hair. You felt the question rise in your throat, pressing your lips to his neck when you asked.

“Why’d you wait?”

Sebastian sighed. “I don’t know if it’s hard to tell, but I’m not exactly popular with people,” he confessed, you hummed in response. “We already had something good, and I wasn’t sure if you wanted more and I didn’t want to risk it.” You lifted yourself up onto your elbow, placing a hand on his jaw to turn his head to look at you, his gray eyes meeting your own. You pressed a chaste but passionate kiss to his lips, which he responded to in kind as his other arm came to wrap around your waist.

“I want everything you have to give.” You confessed against his lips.

***

“Woah someone got lucky last night.” Sam exclaimed walking into the saloon that next night, seeing Sebastian already waiting for him at the pool table. “Who was the lucky lady… or dude, I don’t judge my best friends taste.”

Sebastian stiffened, attempting to pull the collar of his hoodie up to cover the very obvious hickie that you had left on his throat. He seemed to stumble for an answer before he was interrupted by the sound of two more entering the back room, you and Abigail rounding the corner together, giggling about who knows what. Abigail went to her usual spot on the couch, ready to watch as Sam got his ass handed to him again in pool, while you walked over to Sebastian, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek before moving to go sit next to your friend.

Sebastian felt the flush rising up his neck, glancing up at his best friend to see an awestruck disbelieving look on his face, it would have been funny if it wasn’t directed at him.

“How the fuck did you pull-“ Same started.

“I don’t know.”

[formulaforza]

—strawberry wine

and all the times we used to have. (nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft). pairing: daniel ricciardo x female reader warnings: language, angst babyyy love, mackie... 5k ish. this is. definitely something. perhaps it should have stayed in the drafts but dani selected it from a group of it's peers yesterday evening.

It’s been years since you last spent enough time at the vineyard to be considered even a part-time employee. It’s hard to be there, now, in a way it didn’t used to be. Watching it fade away into obscurity and beg someone–anyone–to buy the property to land so your family can get out without generational debt. The fields just hold so many memories, an ancestral kind of history; your first job, the place you had your first drink, where you fell both in, and out of love for the first time. Being there now, watching it die a malignant death is just… sad. There isn’t anything poetic about it. 

You long for the days of the peak, of never ending days spent behind the counter in the barn selling wealthy people on the aesthetics of a small, family-run vineyard. Of your father hosting tours and your mother tastings, of you, pink nose and shoulders kissed by the sun, picking grapes by hand. Of the days where help still had to be hired. 

For a while there, it seemed like there was a never ending rotation of teenagers and twenty-somethings willing to do manual labor for minimum wage–thirteen an hour–from sunup to sundown. They’d even host the occasional tour on busy Saturday evenings, would be compensated in under the table bottles of wine and cash tips. None of them ever stuck around longer than a couple months, found better jobs indoors, closer to school, better pay. Well, nobody except Daniel. 

Daniel worked at the vineyard for… four-ish years, with varying availability depending on seasons and school and racing. 

Sometimes, when you lose yourself to sentiments and fantasy, you imagine a world where the Vineyard never faced any competition, where it is still thriving and you take over your mother’s job when she retires. Daniel still works there, maybe in the fields where he was always supposed to be, or maybe front of house guiding tours and helping you with tastings. Life is simple and plain and at the end of every night you lock the barn doors  and go home together and eat dinner and grocery shop and do your taxes. Daniel strums the guitar on the porch when it rains. Life is easy and fun and you laugh more than you don’t. 

It’s silly, really. But first loves are always silly. 

He is one of the many memories that haunt the property, walking the lines of grapevines feeling more like a walk through a fogged out graveyard than anything. 

Even now, all these years later, you can still see him sat in the swivel chair in the office doorway, throwing grapes at you while you attempt to run the dusty cash register. It’s a cool July afternoon and he’s got a stupid grin on his face and can’t look anywhere but you. 

Daniel is kind of like those people you know you’re given young so that for the rest of your life you know what real feels like. They’re more a lesson than a lover, unfortunately. 

—

You move through the place like you own it, which, you suppose technically you do, in some will locked away in an accountant’s filing cabinet, this all belongs to you. Right now, though, you’re seventeen and just returning from school, already setting up your homework on the end of the counter, a spattering of greetings from the local customers and the local hands, the people who know that this is more of a natural habitat than anywhere else on the planet will ever be. 

Danny also moves around the place like he owns it, which, if it was up to him he probably would. He hums your name as he moves past, taps the opposite shoulder to the one he leans over, reading your textbook over your shoulder. “It’s seventeen,” he quips.

“It’s a history textbook,” you reply, eyes unmoving from the page. 

“Seventeen-seventy, cunt.” There’s a half-empty bowl of fruit sitting on the counter. He leans over you to grab an orange. “Captain Hook and such,” he adds, hosting himself up onto the counter with a thud. You’re sure one day the old wood is going to give out on him and he’ll fall straight onto his ass. Part of you hopes you’re around to see it, the other knows that he’ll find a way to not only make it your fault, but also tease you about it for a minimum of six months. 

“Fuck off, Danny,” you punctuate, just loud enough for him to hear. 

“It’s Daniel, now.”

You snort. Finally, you give him your attention. “Danny is too unprofessional for a hot-shot Red Bull junior driver like you?”

“See,” he pops his thumb harshly through the peel of the orange, the citrus scent wafting out into the humid air. “You get it.”

You pout. “I’m still going to call you Danny.”

“No you won’t,” he laughs. God, the smell of orange is overwhelming, the kind that lingers long after the fruit is gone. When Danny goes back to work in a few minutes, tosses the peel and into the trash by the office door, he’ll still linger in the room with the smell of citrus. 

“I will.”

“You know what,” he hums, biting into a slice. “Let me make you a deal.”

You smile, shake your head. “Shouldn’t I be the one making you a deal?”

He groans against the fruit, “Can you just?”

When you look up again, lean back in your chair and cross your arms, he has orange juice running down the side of his hand, all sweet and sticky and summery. “Fine.”

He smiles goofily, all fucking proud of himself just because you agreed to shut up for thirty seconds. “You can keep calling me Danny, but only if you let me take you out this weekend.”

“Danny,” you protest. This is far from the first time he’s tried to plant the seed of a date with him. It’s had to’ve been a year, by now. You know he’d drop it if you would just give him an answer, but a year later you still haven’t been able to deliver anything definitive. 

He shrugs. “��Dem’s the rules, honey.”

Maybe what you say next is your greatest mistake, or maybe it was what you were always going to say. Maybe you feel like you can say it because he leaves again soon, for longer than ever. You won’t have to live with the consequences of your actions, of your words. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s simply that you think Daniel is far too proper a name for the sticky-handed vineyard tour guide you’ve grown particularly fond of. Danny is much more fitting for him, which is most certainly why you say, okay. When are you picking me up?

—

You drive out from your parents house with your dad in his old Ford Bronco. It’s half rusted out and half chipped blue paint, with worn leather seats and a steering wheel somehow more worn than the rest of it. Seven black tree air fresheners hand from the rearview mirror, new car smell. This relic is well past that–he’s been driving it out to the property literally forever, and this trip won’t be any exception. 

You hardly recognize the place, you think as you slam the squeaky door shut with enough force to make sure it really latches. 

The fields are overgrown with tall grass and shrubs and mustard flowers. The trunks of the grapevines act as headstones for the sprawling field of dry, sunburnt plants. You don’t think anyone has been out there with a plow in months, if not years. 

The barn, the one you grew up in, has been lost with the rest of the place to time. Red paint chips off the wood in massive flakes. The branding that had once run in big wooden letters along the top of the door have all since fallen, leaving a sad outline of your family name in its weathered wake. Two padlocks, one rusted shut, sit on the lock. Every step you take kicks up more dust. 

You’re removed from your thoughts, from the hauntings and the sentiment and the memories, by the creaking of the tailgate on your father’s truck. Stuffed in the back of the Bronco are your afternoon tasks; a pair of bulk cutters for the padlocks,  a new, state of the art keypad lock given to your Dad by a realtor, a post hole digger, and five for-sale signs haphazardly packed any way they would fit. 

You spend most of the next couple hours digging holes along the road, filling them with the wooden posts of the for-sale signs, looking disapprovingly at the thirty-something in a suit that has been tasked with selling the unsellable property. 

This is, what… the fifth person you’d hired to sell this fucking place. Soon enough, you’re going to be sticking up For Sale by Owner signs with a hand-written phone number in black sharpie along the fences that were supposed to keep animals out. Realtors were never in the budget to begin with. 

—

You’re waiting on the old front porch when he pulls up in his beat-up truck, John Denver playing through the open windows, his hand moving in the wind up the entire dusty driveway. You don’t know what he can see, that your Mom is watching out the kitchen window with a friendly smile. 

You’ve got your best sundress on, one that you’d debated wearing for almost thirty-six hours. The first week Danny worked in front of house with you, he spent the entire shift flirting with one of your Dad’s friend’s daughters. He said that sundresses are a crime committed against teenage boys and that when he meets God he’s going to have words with him over pretty girls and their affinity for said sundresses. 

You’d laughed then, because you thought it was silly. You remembered it because you thought the new kid was kind of cute, in a you work for my parents and I could never think you’re cute way. 

“Fuck,” is the first word out of his mouth, before the car door is even closed behind him, followed quickly by a check of his watch and “am I late?”

“No, no,” you smile, tucking a wind-blown strand of hair behind your ear, standing to your feet on the wooden stairs. “You’re early, actually. I think,” you chuckle. “I’m just,” you can feel your cheeks flushing. “I’m just excited.”

“Yeah,” he moves to you quickly, nervously. In the way only teenage boys on a first date do. “I’m excited too.”

“You look nice,” you say, stepping down the final couple of steps and meeting his waiting hand. “Your hair. I feel like I only ever see you in a hat.”

“Thanks, yeah,” he laughs. You’ve always loved his laugh, even when he’s annoying you and annoying customers and annoying himself. His laugh has always been good. “You look beautiful. I’ve never seen you, I mean. Not that you don’t always look–”

“Danny,” you interject as he opens the passenger side door. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he offers a smile and closes the door. Just before it latches shut, though, you hear him finish his sentence. “Thank you.”

He takes you to King’s Park, to the botanical garden after a stop for ice cream. He tells you that he’s had a crush on you this entire time and you ask him to tell you something you don’t already know. It’s then, in the botanical garden next to the water garden, that he tells you about his quote-en-quote ‘silly, kind of, like, backup dream, I guess’ where he has his own vineyard, brews his own wine and spends every day half drunk and wholly happy. 

He stumbles through the entire telling of it, which is how you know he’s not fucking with you. He never gets nervous when it comes to fucking with you. 

Perhaps that is where your silly, kind of like, backup dream started. The one where you and Daniel are working at the vineyard together and life is all death and taxes and grocery bills but somehow, in the midst of all the dull normalcy, you’re both happy as happy can be. 

—

“Someone is out there looking at the place today,” your father tells you over the phone. You try to talk every day, a habit you’ve both picked up in the past couple years, in the time and space since you’ve turned thirty. 

“You’re kidding,” you say. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, shoveling spoonfuls of some health-conscious cereal into your mouth (another post-thirtieth habit). “Who?”

“I don’t know, kid,” you swear you can hear the frown on his face, the deep smile lines and the frustrated forehead wrinkles from months in the direct southern sun. “Probably some fucking developer.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he sighs. “If I’m right, I’d bet they break ground on a neighborhood within the year.”

Your sigh matches his. You can’t even imagine it, front yards and vinyl flooring and white walls built on a foundation of your childhood memories. It’s like going back home, to your childhood home that you sold so many years ago, and discovering it’s been bulldozed, wiped clean from the face of the Earth. “That’s so sad.”

“I know, but, well. You know, honey. It’s not like we have much choice.”

You nod. You do understand. You understand more than you wish you did. “I know. I know. Still pretty fuckin’ sad, though.”

There’s a long silence. The kind of silence that can only be shared by a father and a daughter; a silence that speaks more words than the dictionary can hold. “She’d understand it,” he finally speaks.  “She wouldn’t fucking like it, but she would understand it.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know she would.”

—

“Are you going to kill me?” You giggled, stumbling over your feet. Danny is leading you on the property, one hand over your eyes, the other on your waist, guiding you poorly. 

“And be the first fucking suspect?” He laughs. “I think not.”

“Okay, then where are you taking me?” You beg. It's been going on like this for some half hour, before he even covered your eyes.

He laughs. You laugh. All the two of you do is laugh. “Can’t you lighten up?”

“Not when I’m being led to my death. No, I can’t!”

He stops, turns you around a hundred and eighty degrees and takes his hand off your eyes, fingers digging into either of your shoulders. “Babe," he says, and you'd think he was about to tell you he killed someone.

You mimic his seriousness, find humor in it. “Babe.”

“You trust me.”

“Do I?” You smile. He cocks his head to one side and rolls his big brown eyes. You would commit crimes for his eyes. “I do.”

“Okay, so then fucking trust me.”

“Okay,” you nod, closing your eyes.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay," you reach blindly for his hand, bring it to your eyes to block the light from them once more. "I trust you. Let’s go.”

After a short, terribly blind walk, Danny finally stops. You’ve been able to hear the river that flows out the back of the property for twenty minutes, but it’s close enough now that you can smell it; the sticks and the rocks and the mud and the water. You can practically feel the splashing of the water bouncing off the boulders.

“Okay. Open,” he instructs, removing his hand from your eye, moving his arms to hug you from behind, arms wrapped over the front of your chest. 

You open your eyes to find a picnic, carefully set up with a spread of dinner and drinks and dessert, complete with a plaid flannel blanket and candles that smell like citronella masked with lavender and a bouquet of white roses already in a water filled vase. “Danny,” you hum, leaning your head back against his shoulder. 

He kisses your temple, whispers against your hair, “Happy Anniversary.”

“Danny,” you drag out the letters of his name, of the nickname he only lets the people he loves call him by. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy and special. 

“Honey,” he mocks you, sways behind you. 

“This is too much,” You crane your neck to look at him, and then turn your whole body so you’re flush against his chest, close in a way only you get to be. “You’re so sweet.”

He laughs and it vibrates in both of your chests. A feeling you’ll never tire of. “I mean, this is not too much. Arguably, this is too little.”

“No,” you back away, out of his grip and take small steps backwards, towards the picnic and the waiting meal, pulling him along with you by interlocked pinkies. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Well,” his grin grows. “I can’t argue with that.”

“I love you so much,” you tell him, because you do, because you’re eighteen and everything in this life is so simple and black and white.

“I love you, too, and–”

“Oh my gosh,” you cut him off, wide-eyed and giddy. “Wine with strawberries?”

He nods. “Strawberry wine, if you will. For the winery with no strawberry fields.”

“This is better,” you state, with the utmost confidence, without even a sip or a sniff or any idea of what white wine he’d used as a base for his little cocktail. 

“Definitely not, but sure.”

“It is, because you made it for me. That makes it perfect.”

—

You’re completely removed from the actual buying and selling of the property. It isn’t up to you to decline or accept or field offers, that’s all your dad. The place is still his, at least for a couple more weeks while all the paperwork processes.

It was an anonymous buyer, according to your Dad. Cash offer, over asking price. He’s not sure how the real estate agent managed it, and honestly? Neither are you. Objectively, that land isn’t worth the cost of cleaning it up. Everyone in their right mind knows it. You just come from a particular bloodline where the mind never was quite right when it came to the vineyard. 

What shocks you most, though, is that the anonymous buyer–supposedly–is interested in restoring the place rather than bulldozing it.

“They asked me about the dirt,” your dad tells you on one of your daily phone calls. “Wanted to know about berries.”

“Berries?”

“Yeah, strawberries or raspberries or something like that.”

You scoff. What kind of fucking idiot is buying this land? It might just be a herd of manufactured houses after all. “Well, it’s too hot here for raspberries. Everyone knows that.”

“I know, that’s what I told them. They could probably grow strawberries in July or August.”

“Are they trying to make strawberry wine or something?” And, as if this is some fucked up kind of movie, and not real life, it all comes back to you. Every memory, every moment, all at the thought of fucking strawberries in wine. 

“Good fucking luck to them, if they are.” Your grandparents entertained the idea of it once, all the fruit wines. It’s a fucking shit-show, according to legend. Hell to try and make, Heaven to taste. It just wasn’t worth it for them. But apparently now it’s worth it to someone.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, bite and bite until you’re worried you’ll draw blood, that you’re a single tooth away from popping a hole clear through the skin. There’s no way, there’s genuinely no way, right? “Dad?”

“Shoot.”

“It’s not.” You almost stop yourself, you almost have some common fucking sense and realize just how vast the world is and how completely unlikely it is that– almost. You almost stop yourself. “The anonymous buyer, it isn’t Daniel, is it?”

“Daniel?” He scoffs on the other end. “Better not be that fucking cunt.”

You smile, the kind of smile that you know you should feel guilty for having. “He’s not a cunt, Dad.”

“I never fucking liked that kid.”

You’re right–you think. You’re right, Dad. You didn’t like him. “You loved him.”

“No, I lost all my respect for him when he left you like he did,” his voice is laced with a calm seriousness. He’s always been your blind defender. 

“Yeah, Dad,” you pause. Now’s as good a time as any, you suppose. “I’ve been… that’s not exactly how it went down.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Daniel didn’t leave me, and even if he did, Dad, he wouldn’t have done it then.”

—

“What the fuck are you talking about, you’re breaking up with me?” His voice cuts through continents. He’s somewhere in the UK, or maybe Italy, or maybe Asia. You honestly can’t keep track anymore, can barely keep track of the days of the week that you’re living much less the ones he’s in. 

“It’s exactly what I said, Daniel,” you say, try to keep your voice as level headed as possible, to juxtapose the way your mind races, the way your heart rate spikes and your palms sweat and everything in you hurts. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“No, no. I’m making this fucking hard,” he’s riled up enough for the both of you. “You don’t just. This isn’t how this works, babe. You can’t just break up with me.” He’s raising his voice with you. You can count on one hand and have fingers left over the amount of times Danny has yelled at you, and this is the first time it’s not scary. 

“I can, and I am,” your voice comes from your throat, choked out over the lull of your entire body begging you to please, please don’t do this. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry!” He yells, the last letter sound cracking with the realization of his actions. “You’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Okay, sure. Whatever.” He doesn’t make this easy, not that you’d expected it to be easy. You’d hoped for something cleaner, though. Less mess. “I’m having a great time breaking your heart.”

“Just. Why? Why are you doing this? What happened? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, D,” you sigh. You didn’t know that your heart could physically hurt. You thought that was some crap that they made up for movies and songs and poems, some grand metaphor for how sad you get. “I can’t be a girlfriend right now. To anyone.”

“That’s such bullshit.”

You can feel yourself shutting down, closing every part of yourself off, running on pure survival instincts. “I know. I’m a cunt.”

“You aren’t… fuck me. I mean, fuck, dude.” He laughs. There’s not a thing about it that sounds happy. “I know you don’t want this, I know it. Talk to me, please. Tell me what’s going on and I can help you and everything is going to be fine, baby. Just. Please.”

“Daniel.”

“Why are you calling me that?!”

“It’s what you like to be called!” You yell back, feel the burn in your nose and your cheeks and the sting in your chest. 

There’s silence for so long you wonder if he’s hung up, if you’re supposed to. It’s minutes before he speaks again. “Not by you, it’s not.”

—

It’s been just past a year since the place got sold, and nobody from your family–nobody–has been there since. You moved out of town years before the sale, and your Dad has joined you, wants to be near you in his ever increasing age and always deepening wrinkles. When the arthritis sets in, someone needs to forge my signature for me, he tells you. 

It’s not until her birthday that you’re back in Perth, that you’re struck with the sudden spark, with the idea to drive past the vineyard, to see what idiot is trying to plant raspberries in the Australian heat, to see who's living in your shoes and wearing your clothes and sleeping under your bed like a monster. 

“I don’t know that we should do that,” your Dad says. “It’s going to make you sad.”

You shrug in the passenger seat of the old Bronco. “We’re in the parking lot of a cemetery, so,” you offer a near silent chuckle. “I think we’re a bit past sad.”

“Okay,” he nods. “There’s something you should know, then.”

“Don’t tell me it’s a neighborhood.”

“No, no. It’s a vineyard. Strawberries and grapes in the fields.”

“Well, good then,” you nod, glide your hands through the air outside the open window. “What’s wrong with it?”

He shrugs, drums his fingers on the beat up steering wheel. “You remember when you asked me last year if it was Daniel?”

“Dad. Don’t.”

“Well, I didn’t know it then, but–”

“I’m serious. Don’t tell me this, please,” you’re a second away from sticking your fingers in your ears and humming a nursery rhyme to keep the unsaid unspoken. 

“Daniel bought the place, hon.”

“My Daniel?” You squeak. You haven’t felt this young in a while. Or this small. 

He laughs, turns to face you with a look that begs you not to be so damn daft. “The only Daniel that means anything to anyone in this family.”

“When did you find out?”

“As soon as they put the sign up. I was still living out here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You have so many questions. You don’t think there’s any you actually want answers to. 

“What good was it going to do? I never thought you’d be back here.”

“Well. I’m back.”

He nods. “You’re back.”

You’re back. You never really left, you don’t think. It’s not something you can do around here. Perth is in your blood the same way wine is, some grand, immovable part of your soul. You suppose Daniel is there too, taking up a plot of land in your soul that can never be sold. He lives in you like summertime and sadness and strawberries. Strawberries. Him and his fucking strawberry white wines. 

“He’s got strawberries?” You croak. Tears pull on your voice but you won’t give them the satisfaction. You’re grown now, it’s time to fucking act like it. 

“Strawberry wine. First batches just came out last month. I heard it’s pretty good.”

“I bet.”

“You still wanna go?”

You nod, cold and stunted. “Yeah.”

You see the cars before you see the barn, they’re overflowing out of the parking lot and stopped on the side of the dirt road that leads to the drive. You’ve never seen it so busy. It looks like the pictures your parents used to show you, the ones where the place was fresh and new and shiny. The barn has a fresh coat of red paint, the parking lot is repaved and half full of ATVs with a logo for DR3 Wines printed on either side. 

Above the door, a matching phrase, in simple white wooden letters–like what once was–hangs, announces the place to passers by. 

Inside, it smells like wood, like lavender and citronella and alcohol. There are pictures on every wall, carefully framed photos of everyone in the world besides him. The counter is that same old slab of wood, the one that you always hoped he would fall through. On the wall behind is are more 4x6 photos than you can count, all unframed, all messily taken. He’s in some of those, holding a camera or posing with friends or hugging a grapevine. There’s one with you, right in the middle. You and he and your Mom on the back field picking grapes. It’s taken by your dad, you still remember that morning clear as day. 

There’s another of you; a selfie taken on a point-and-shoot, the two of you with glasses of white wine and strawberries. Next to it is a picture of Kristen Bell and Dax Shephard leaning against the counter, half-drunk glasses in each of their hands. 

Framed, on the edge of the counter, right beside the register, is a photo of the place when he first started working there, of your Mom and your Dad standing proudly in front of it. You took it. You left it in the office when your Dad decided to lock the doors for good. Our Story, the plaque below it reads, with a QR code to scan. 

It leads to a linktree, to social media links and tasting menus and a merchandise shop. The last link, though, is stomach curling. It’s her name, your Mom’s. Fighting for her, it reads. When you click it, you’re taken to a website that encourages donations, that spreads awareness and promotes research, that thanks Daniel by name twice in two paragraphs for his consistent and generous donations and support. 

Before you can make a bee-line for the exit, to tell your Dad that he was right and this was a mistake, you’re met with a red-faced teenage girl asking you if there’s anything she can help you with. “No, uh,” you swallow hard. “My parents were the previous owners, we just stopped in to see the place.”

“Oh my gosh, would you like a tour?”

“Um…” you pause, because you don’t know if you can handle being here. Seeing the place like this again. “Danny’s not… Daniel isn’t here, is he?” She shakes her head. You nod. “Then yeah, I guess. Let me just grab my dad?”

—

You get an invite to a VIP tasting at his vineyard two weeks after your visit. It’s scheduled during the F1 summer break, so you have no doubt he’ll be there, and if that wasn’t clue enough, his handwriting glaring back at you on the invite is about as obvious as obvious can be. 

I hear you’re snooping around the old stomping grounds. I’d love to be there when you do it. Bring your Dad if he’s free. It’ll be a good night, lots of strawberry wine–the real shit this time. All love, (always your) Danny.

read part two, everywhere, everything, here!

[storiesofsvu]

Anthony DiNozzo NSFW Alphabet

Anthony DiNozzo x reader warnings; nsfw, sexual situations. a.n: i know some of you have been asking for this and i'm ngl, it's likely not what you expected, but these are my headcanons and what I believe. I think there's a lot of wild opinions out there about this man and we're all entitled to our own lol.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tony’s generally pretty soft, and pretty wiped. He’ll collapse into the bed, an arm winding around you, encouraging you to nestle into his side while you catch your breath. If it’s more of a casual thing, he’ll likely get at least half dressed, sharing a glass of water with you before he drops your clothes into your lap. (or if he’s at yours, he’ll just get dressed). It’s not too much extra cuddling for the casual partners, he doesn’t want to blur those lines, even if you were already friends.

But if you’re his girlfriend, or he wants that, there’s lots of soft cuddles, his fingers tracing up and down your back, he makes sure you rehydrate, offers up a snack, leftover Thai food in bed kinda thing. A massage is likely part of the foreplay, but a nice warm bath or steamy shower is definitely an aftercare thing for him.

B = Body part (your favourite body part of theirs and theirs of yours)

You love Tony’s shoulders, they’re broad, strong, he’s in good shape and they prove it. He can pick you up and toss you around a bit when he feels like it. You’re also drawn to them after a long day, when you know he’s had a rough go and without a word you’ll wrap yourself around him from behind, holding him for a moment before you start to massage his shoulders.

For him, if it’s a sexual thing, Imma say he’s a boob man. Don’t get me wrong, he loves ass too, but there’s just something about tits that he can’t resist. Not as sexual, he loves your hands, loves the innocent way you pick up one of his hands in yours, tracing patterns, following the lines. He loves to hold you, always grabbing your hand when you’re out on the streets together.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically).

He’s normally one to use condoms, but if it’s an established relationship with another form of birth control he’s all for coming inside you, getting to fuck you bare and really feel everything. It’s primal, it’s intimate, it’s how he feels so utterly connected to you. On the more dirty side of things, he absolutely loves coming in your mouth, whether it was a blow job or after making you come and him pulling out, it drives him wild seeing it painted on your tongue/lips and cheeks while you’re looking up at him with a wild grin.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Honestly, would not put it past this man to be intrigued with pegging.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He’s got a good level of experience and certainly knows what he’s doing. Some people like to tease that he’s all talk, and if you do, he’s definitely going to show you just how wrong you are, cause he’s great at what he does and takes pride it in, especially with how many orgasms he can give you.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying) Hear me out: missionary or variants on it. He likes to see your face, watch the way it scrunches up, the way your mouth falls open in silent pleasure, watching the way your body twitches and shivers as he fucks you. Positions where he can really get his hands on you, feel your skin on his, play with your tits, have access to your clit, ones that his mouth can latch onto your body, leaving marks so you remember how good he made you feel. He loves to throw a leg or two over his shoulders, able to plunge even deeper into you. Morning sex he loves a good spooning from behind.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I think this one’s pretty obvious, I mean, it’s DiNozzo. He loves to throw a joke or two in there, especially during the foreplay, before or during the time clothing starts to come off. Before he’s completely flustered with just how hot you are, he’s constantly tossing out one liners, using accents/weird voices and the like. And there has definitely been an occasion or two where he made you laugh so hard it put a hard stall on any action happening, but to be completely honest, that just made him love you more.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) 

This depends on the relationship, if it’s a one night thing, or a friends with benefits, then he holds back the intimacy and keeps that mask up. If you’re someone he loves, then he can really turn it up, candles, tenderness, showing you just how much he loves and cares about you through physical affection.

J = Jack off (masturbation head canon)

Weekly at minimum, likely in the shower for easy clean up. If it’s been a long/stressful week he’s likely to self indulge, especially to help him sleep at night.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He’s into the role play aspect, loves to go out pretending you’ve never met and face the “challenge” of picking up someone new, throwing in some new tricks and the like. There’s likely some more themed looks, not necessarily full blown costumes, but the aspect of getting to be someone you’re not kinda thing. He likes to make you come, so overstimulation is definitely gonna be on this list too.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Any surface in his/your apartment. Bedroom, couch, the cushioned bay window sill (at night, likely by candle light so no one can actually see in, but the risk factor still plays), bent over the kitchen counter, in the shower, you can bet you’re going to christen every surface in the place.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

To put it simple: you. Doesn’t matter if you’re dolled up with a full face of make up and your hair done, ready for a fancy date night, in a new lingerie set you bought just to torment him, or if you’re in one of his t-shirts and your faved cotton panties on a cozy, lazy Sunday, every single one of them will get him going and he can’t keep his hands off you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything with extreme bondage or any level of pain past a hand spanking. He’s seen a lot of really dark stuff in that realm while at work/on the job and a: doesn’t ever want to hurt you, or b: bring back any dark thoughts, especially while in the bedroom. He wouldn’t ever hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Absolutely loves both.

You cannot tell me he doesn’t adore eating pussy and we both know that he’s fucking incredible at it. He’ll happily bury himself between your legs for as long as you’ll let him, especially if he knows you were having a bad day, he’ll eat you out for hours.

The days when you call him into the bedroom looking all seductive on your knees with that little smirk on your lips are the days he just can’t get his pants undone fast enough. He’s never one to do the “downward shove” and he’ll rarely ask for blowjobs, but fuck does he ever love it when your lips wrap around his cock and you encourage him to thrust into the back of your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Bit of both. Depends on the situation, depends on if it’s a quickie or not. If there’s not a lot of time, if it’s a sneaky bathroom hook up it’s gonna be fast. If he’s about to leave for a longer case/UC case, it’s going to be slow, sensual he’s going to take all the time he can to admire every inch of your body before he has to go.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves ‘em. Sometimes you’re ready for date night and he knows he needs to have you *now* and you’re not gonna complain about him ruining your lipstick cause you know he’s gonna make it up to you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s up for experimenting, playing around with kinks and the like, but he’s not super risky. He’s got a reputation/career to think about so certain things are just out of question from the start.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This man can go for round after round. He’s well aware that he might not be able to fuck you over and over again, but he can easily use his mouth, fingers, or pull out a toy to taunt you with while he recovers. And he’s never going to complain when you start to jerk him off or go down on him to help things along.

When it comes to how long he lasts, it kinda depends on the situation, how long its been, how utterly turned on he is, but he’ll always make sure you finish, multiple times.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns accessories; blind folds, maybe some silk ties to bind your hands together, some kind of pinwheel/pleasure wheel, while he doesn’t like lots of pain, he’s into sensation play, temperature play, things to spice things up without hurting anyone. Once he’s with someone, he’ll learn what they like, check out their collection, have a conversation about toys and likely invest in a couple that they like, he knows that a vibrator isn’t competition, it’s a helping hand in the bedroom, whether he’s there or not. And then there’s the added benefit of him getting to say “well… show me how you use it when I’m not around” and watching you get yourself off.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s not the biggest sexual tease. He likes to tease about sexual things outside of the bedroom, make little comments in front of mutual friends about your sex life (nothing that would ever offend you, they might turn your cheeks hot, but he always knows you’re okay with sharing that information). He’s also the one who will likely take bets on sports games, trivia nights and the like, and the loser owes the other head at the end of it. When it comes to actually being in the bedroom, he struggles to keep his hands off you, he’s the bratty one, so you’re likely not the one getting punished.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not overly loud, more groans and grunting, swearing, soft mutters of “god that feels good” “fuck, don’t stop” “that’s my girl…”

W = Wild card (a random head canon for the character)

He’s not afraid of subbing. While he’s pretty dominant most of the time, like I said earlier, he’s the fucking brat. And he’ll act up on purpose on nights when he knows you’re more likely to get annoyed, casting him a warning glance of “you’ll pay for this later” and it will only egg him on more. He’s never opposed to being teased and edged and loves seeing you take control in the bedroom.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I don’t think I even need to explain this. He’s thick, big enough, not huge to cause pain, but a bit larger than average.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not as intense as you would think with all of his quips and the like, he likely jerks off at least once a week, has his favourite porn sites/stars. If he’s with someone, there’s sex at least once a week if not more, and he loves a good lazy Sunday where you don’t even get out of bed, fucking all day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Unless he’s completely wiped, he’s almost always the second person to fall asleep. He likes to know that you’re taken care of, that you’re comfortable and safe. He’ll slip out of the bed, making sure you’re warm and tucked in before getting you a full glass of water on the nightstand, that your phone is plugged in and alarms are set and ready for the next day. He’ll slip back under the covers and pull you into his arms, watching you sleep with a soft smile on his face as his fingers trace the curve of your lips, your jawline with a feather light touch before he finally falls asleep.

____________________

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[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 10

PREVIOUS

He calls his grandma to thank her for everything. She promises him that if anything keeps him from her on Christmas she’ll just make her way over to South Carolina to see him. “Maybe I can give that boy who is bullying you a piece of my mind!” She says and he loves her for it even if the thought of Andrew vs. his 70 year old grandma gives him heart palpitations that have nothing to do with the five hour energy he just slammed when no one was looking.

(He had eaten turkey because Abby had asked if he didn’t like it when he had forgone the white meat being passed around. She looked SAD so he just piled the dark meat onto his plate (at least it has less tryptophan) trip and now he needs to counteract the turkey. He could not afford to be sleepy on the impending car ride.)

He lets her know that everyone likes her pie and Abby had been overjoyed when he informed her that his gran always attaches a recipe card to the bottom for any pie in transit / for public consumption. (This is a woman who has been asked enough that she has the confidence to assume).

He gets off the line and feels the 5 hour energy kick in when Captain Neil appears out of nowhere next to him and he thinks he strains something when he resists the flinch his rapidly beating heart almost forces him into. “What language was that?” He asks.

“Polish.”

“You really do know a lot of languages. Just like your friend said.”

DANGER. DANGER. DANGER.

“Not that many.” DEFLECT DEFLECT DEFLECT “When are we heading out to Columbia?” DAMMIT

Captain Neil blinks but smiles, “We’ll be heading out in a little bit. Abby’s packing us leftovers. Too bad there’s no pie left. Do you think we could make it at the house? Andrew really liked it.” Neil says.

Pie is a safe topic. Pie will not betray him. Also if Andrew wants pie then he can’t kill FF until FF makes it and, perhaps, the pie will buy him a few extra days of mercy from his executioner.

“We can try. The secret ingredient is a grandma’s love though.” He says because it’s on the recipe card. It’s the most important ingredient in the whole pie. It’s what can keep a pie warm across a country. “Gran always says whipped cream can be used as a substitute though.” he says.

Captain Neil blushes.

DAMMIT WHY? WHY BRING UP THE WHIPPED CREAM?

“Well, we’ll have to pick some up from the store.” Captain Neil manages.

FF blanks his face as best he can and nods but gets up his heart beating too fast to remain seated. “I’ll be outside.” He says because he needs to walk around in some circles while he can. The car ride to Columbia is going to be a nightmare in general but especially since he slammed the five hour energy.

Kevin is the reason for the hold-up and the reason that FF gets 80 more laps around the house. He’s reminding them that they can’t stop exercising just because it’s a break gesturing to himself and the 20 minutes of squats that he just did to burn off the pie and then to FF who passes a window for the 10th time since this conversation started “See FF is keeping up with his fitness. Be more like him.”

Wymack eventually drags Kevin out of the house and into his car since they’re spending the break together. He flashes FF a thumbs up as FF passes and FF (unaware as always but great at mimicking social cues) gives him a thumbs up back.

It’s then that they get into the car. FF (as is the way of the world) is sitting bitch with Aaron and Nicky on either side of him.

Captain Neil is up front and starts to play some music. Both Nicky and Aaron are conked out before they even reach the entrance to the interstate. They have also slumped onto FF with Aaron asleep on his shoulder and Nicky drooling into his hair.

“You can just shove them off.” Andrew says.

“It’s fine.” FF says reminiscing about the last time he’d had something like this.

20 minutes later it’s not fine because the five hour energy is definitely kicking in but it would be so rude to move and wake Nicky and Aaron up. Nicky is probably tired because he came to check on FF five different times the night before and kept dragging him away from whatever Saw movie he was taking notes on and Aaron ate a LOT of white meat so he’s filled to the brim with tryptophan.

But he thinks he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.

He closes his eyes to try and breathe through this when.

“Smith said that we can try and recreate his grandma’s pie. We’ll just have to do a grocery run tomorrow.” Captain Neil says in Russian.

“It was good pie.” Andrew returns in the same language.

“He said that the secret ingredient is grandmotherly love.”

“It was on the recipe card. It said for best results be sure to add throughout the baking process.”

“His grandma said whipped cream was a good replacement. That it goes great with the pie.”

Uh-oh

FF knows that tone.

FF has fled across campus, the bus, the dorm room, and (one one notable occasion) the locker room when he has heard that tone coming from Captain Neil.

“Pie isn’t the only thing it will enhance the flavor of.” Andrew says back and FF feels as the car speeds up.

FF wishes that Andrew would just hurry up and crazy murder him already. He’d take the reverse bear trap over this psychological torture. He wants to pull up his phone and read if the Geneva Conventions list this as a war crime.

NEXT

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[inkykeiji]

character: hanemiya kazutora x fem!reader genre: smut warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (step siblings), naughty photographs, mentions of naughty letters and phone calls, coercion/guilt tripping, just general ickiness words: 1.3k

Your big brother is a sick, depraved man. 

He always has been.

You’ve always known it, a truth buried deep at the very core of your soul where it has begun to rot, to infect—you knew it when he killed Shinichiro, knew it when he stabbed Baji, knew it when he beat the boy who had been picking on you in first grade to near death, only a few days after you and your dad had moved into his mother’s dilapidated little house.

It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid anymore, he had said to you as his clumsy thumbs swiped through the streams of tears on your cheeks, leaving streaks of blood painted in their wake. I’m your big brother now, I’ll always keep you safe. 

And keep you safe he did, until he got sent away, and then got sent away again, and you were all alone once more.

They shaved his head down to his scalp when he was incarcerated, but it’s been several years since he was arrested now, moved from the juvenile detention center to a real prison, and his hair has begun to grow out again, fluffy onyx tufts curling over the tips of his ears and around his cheeks. 

He’s beginning to look like himself again. 

“Hi,” he pants as you reach his table, the breath released from the confines of its lungs, where you’re sure it’s been festering since your last visit, exactly seven days ago. 

“Hi, Tora-nii,” you nod politely, taking a seat across from him. 

Your knees knock together, and he scoots closer to the edge of the bench, the chains adoring his ankles jingling delicately. Your toes overlap his own as he wedges them beneath the soles of your feet, wiggling a little in his slip-on shoes. 

“I missed you,” the words surge from his mouth, as if he can’t spit them out fast enough, as if they need to be heard, immediately, clawed their way to freedom and left his throat raw. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” your fingers interlace with his, palms pressing together tightly, the silver cuffs shackling his wrists scraping against the metal tabletop.

“It’s fucking hell in here without you,” he admits, eyes downcast, calloused fingers playing with your own, folding and unfolding them. “I keep thinking about the day I’ll finally get out of here, the day when I’ll finally be able to be with you, to have you, but then I remember...It’s still years away.” 

He looks up, eyes suddenly bright, shining through a torrent of tears in that special way that is so uniquely him. 

“But the photos help. The photos help a lot.” His voice is husky, bordering on a ragged whine, and his knees bump against yours again. “I’m sure they’re nothing compared to your body, but...”

“I’m glad I can help, Tora-nii,” you whisper, gazing at him through your lashes, his stare too brilliant to meet head-on, to hold for an extended period of time. 

“Still so shy, my precious little sister,” a knuckle traces the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the bow of your lips, topaz eyes enraptured by its trajectory. “Will you still be this shy when I...”

And he can’t even say it, either—too vulgar, too naughty, too illicit to even be uttered in the breath between the two of you.

He swallows thickly, his words turned hoarse, raw, steeped in sick desire. “I hope you are.”

“Kazutora,” you whimper, sounding more like a plead to continue than an order to stop. 

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” he clears the grit from his voice. “I—I can’t wait to see what you’ve got for me this week, baby.”

Pricks of heat ripple across your face and you duck your head, nodding to yourself as you pull a hand free from his, sifting through your bag for the small collection of polaroids tied prettily with a piece of silk ribbon.

You’d think, after doing this for so many years, that you’d be used to it by now, but it still feels just as grimy and gross as it did three years ago, when he had begged you for a few photos—nothing crazy, he had promised, nothing too wicked or sinful, just a bikini photo or two, that’s all. 

That’s all he needs, he said, swore up and down, cross his heart, pinky promise. 

You were fucking stupid to have believed him. 

Because that’s never all he needs, when it comes to Kazutora. 

Because it won’t ever be truly enough; no matter how much of yourself you give to him, no matter how many shards of your body and slivers of your soul he pries from you, he’ll always crave more, devouring piece after piece until he’s consumed you fully, made you whole, made you one.

Please, sweetheart, I’m going fuckin’ crazy in here, he had told you with tears in his eyes, hands grasping yours so tightly your knuckles cracked, only a few months later. I—I’m so lonely, and I miss you so much, and I’m just so sad and, really, this is the least you could do to make your big brother feel a bit better, isn’t it?

A few pairs of panties and a single naked picture—you could part with those, couldn’t you? You wouldn’t miss those too much, would you? 

Of course not. 

The panties were short-lived—they were too stringy to be considered safe, and someone had already stolen a pair and tried to strangle another inmate with them, but the polaroids were deemed harmless, and so the polaroids stayed.

And so the polaroids grew, in numbers and in frequency, until you were delivering up to ten in one visit, doing your best to take into account all of Kazutora’s requests, as outlined in his previous letter from the week before.

And even though nothing will ever truly be enough for him, you continue striving to please him anyway; diligent, dedicated, desperate. 

Because you’re a good little sister, a kind little sister, an obedient little sister, the best little sister, he’s told you several times now—over this very table when you slip the polaroids across the scratched up metal surface; breathed out as a broken little whine into the phone receiver during his weekly two minute phone calls, when he inconspicuously stains the inside of his jumpsuit with thick, hot cum; in his letters, scrawled across the soiled page in his sloppy handwriting, when he details all of the things he wants to do to you, when he responds to all of the things you said you’d do to him.  

The guards know, of course—you’re pretty sure they know all of it, all about the nasty, naughty pictures you routinely deliver to your nii-san every Monday, the grotesque phone calls the two of you have perfected, the devilish letters you send one another, filled with vile thoughts and foul promises. 

You’re pretty sure they get off on it, too. They must; why else would they allow it to continue otherwise? 

The notion inspires a rush of shameful thrills to shoot through you, leaving your blood tingling and your chest giddy and heat seeping through the floor of your tummy, and you know it does the same for Kazutora, too. He’d at least try to hide it better if it didn’t. You know he would. 

And as perverted and nefarious as it all is, as horrible and sordid as you feel, it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t look forward to taking those photographs every week for him, if you said you didn’t feel a dizzying anticipation when coming up with new poses and angles, if you said you didn’t anxiously await his weekly letter, eager to know his thoughts, to read his praise.

Your big brother is a sick, depraved man.

He always has been.

You’ve always known it, because you are a sick, depraved little girl, too. 

You may not share blood, but those family roots run deep, twisted and tangled at the pits of your souls, irrevocably knotted so long ago that they’ve fused into one mangled mass, unable to be undone. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Neither would he. 

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 23 - forced choice

Warnings: General angst / canonical violence

Word Count: 1.7k (gif not mine)

Summary: Thompson forces their hand. Clint comes to some realisations as does Natasha.

Masterlist.

Whumptober Masterlist.

.

Fury glowers.

His gun glints, the shine on it almost echos in the light. He admires the weight of it in his hands as he points it at Thompson.

“You forced my hand,” he comments, annoyance clear in his voice.

“How dare you send my agents, people I’ve trained, hand picked, and turn them against me.”

Thompson stares at him from across his desk.

“They’re dead, I suppose?”

Fury doesn’t answer.

“How did they get you? What was it that made you a traitor?”

Thompson bristles.

“Do you really want to know?”

Fury takes a breath.

He has twelve minutes before the WSC comes.

“Yes,” he replies honestly.

He wants to know what makes a man turn against his country. He’s honest with himself when he thinks that he never really liked Thompson, but he had always thought that it was because the man had no personality, that he felt narcissistic in his actions, sacrificing people to reach whatever goal he wanted.

“Money.”

The statement is about as much as Fury thought.

“They left me in Iraq and when they finally came back for me, what was it they gave me? Nothing. No help, no support.”

Thompson stares.

His cold eyes looking at Fury.

“You can shoot me,” he says, indifferent to the gun.

“But I’m not staying around for whatever this is.”

He stands.

Fury points the gun, the threat of shooting, doesn’t stop Thompson moving.

“Stop.”

Thompson keeps moving towards the door.

A warning shot rings, but does nothing.

Another shot towards his head makes Thompson angry, and it seems that is the moment he decides to take Fury down with him.

But Fury is quicker.

He does’t want Thompson to die by his hand, so he shoots low, one in each kneecap.

The man falls with a scream.

Fury stands over him, kicking Thompson's gun out of the way.

Blood flows, and Fury rolls his eye.

“You forced this. You don’t get to die because your choices have consequences. You get to be debriefed, kept in a cell until all the information that you know has been divulged.”

He taps his gun on his head, the heat of burning skin adding to the smell of a fired gun, and Fury sits back on the chair.

.

Clint holds the burner phone, which rings twice before Maria answers.

“Clint?”

Relief is evident on his face.

“You’re okay?”

Maria nods, and realises that he can’t see her

“Yeah, I’m with Coulson.”

Clint makes a noise.

“Fury?”

Maria pauses.

“Safehouse six.”

Clint nods.

“Yes, okay, we can be there in thirty minutes.”

Clint looks at Natasha, her face pale as she looks toward the car at his words.

“Is.. Uh… are you both okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies

“We’ll see you soon.”

The line goes dead, and Clint takes the SIM card out, breaking it and then stomps on the phone, watching it shatter.

He follows Natasha to the car, climbing in after her.

.

Maria sees the car pull up, watching both Clint and Natasha exit.

She wants to meet them outside.

All of her allies, the people she trusts the most, are safe and for that she feels thankful.

Coulson hangs up the phone, his face grim, but possibly some relief there too.

“Fury is alive.”

She holds up a hand.

“Clint’s here, tell us all together.”

Coulson nods and goes to the door, opening it for a very tired Clint and Natasha.

He gives Clint a hug, who seems to melt into it.

Maria hugs him next, and gives Natasha a half smile.

Natasha doesn’t return it, and worried eyes look around as she clears the room visually.

“Fury’s okay,” Coulson tells them all, “he’s at SHIELD, and the WSC have Thompson. He’s told us to go to ground for the next couple of days, whilst everything gets sorted.”

Maria frowns.

“What do you mean?”

Coulson looks to all of them.

“The men that came after us, Fury thinks it was the last of the infiltrators. The whole unit of SHIELD needs to be debriefed. It’s going to take time. We clearly aren’t the ones that have ties to Hydra, so…”

He shrugs. “He just said to stay away for now.”

Maria looks annoyed.

“I’m hungry,” Clint announces in ambivalence.

Coulson seems to suppress a laugh.

“Pizza?”

Clint smiles.

“Yeah, I think this conversation, and planning for the next week may go down better over pizza.”

.

Natasha sits on the couch furthest from the door, her back against the wall.

She looks up to Coulson as he approaches, and then marks where Clint and Maria are talking in the kitchen.

She’s not in danger.

She doesn’t think so at least.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

Natasha sits up, her legs tucked under her.

“You didn’t eat much,” he observes.

He seems to remember that food was a touchy subject for Natasha and moves on.

“Has he been okay?”

Coulson looks at Clint and Natasha doesn’t know what to say.

She eyes him nervously.

No one ever asks her opinion, it’s never been valued or even considered.

Maybe if they did…

Natasha looks at Coulson. The man had sat in on some of her debriefs, he was the one who had tried to reassure her it would be okay.

“He’s been okay. Despite everything.” Natasha isn’t sure what else to say.

That Clint had taken care of her, whilst she was struggling with nightmares and dark thoughts? Or that he was still struggling with broken ribs or his broken arm? That she could see that he was haunted by shifting in SHIELD. Natasha didn’t know what to say to Coulson.

He seems to recognise this, and nods gently.

“He’s resilient.”

Natasha wishes she was better at this.

She knows she could fake it, pretend he’s a mark, but it’s not something she wants to do.

“And you?”

Natasha stares at her hands.

Her nails are short where she’s picked at them, torn them off so they don’t become too long. Scars and scabs on her knuckles.

She nods.

There’s an emotion that she can’t quite place.

Fear? Anger? Sadness?

In the Red Room after a big mission, if successful, they received a day of reprieve following debrief. Often it was needed, as debrief involved electricity and truth serum, but she feels the same.

The fatigue and almost numb feeling that make her want to be alone.

“I’m okay,” she replies quietly.

Coulson takes the response at face value.

There’s a quietness in his movements as he shifts position.

“For the record, I’m sorry this has been your experience of SHIELD. It wasn’t always like this… It was an organisation that did some good. Ask Fury, when you get the chance. I believe he’ll be able to tell you more about Ohio, maybe even some information on the trafficking syndicate. We’ve taken a lot from you and I’m hopeful we can give something back and… well, with Thompson gone, we can be what SHIELD is truly supposed to be.”

Natasha stares at him.

Ohio.

Trafficking syndicates.

She was dumbstruck.

It was a gift. A kind one.

Natasha swallows and curls a little more into herself.

Coulson opens a chocolate bar, and offers her a piece.

She shakes her head, but appreciates the gesture.

“I’ve organised an apartment onsite for you when we can go back. Do you have anything in the cell that you’d like moved there?”

Natasha hates him for being so kind. She’s never known a man to be this kind without wanting something. She doesn’t want to think it of him, but it feels so contrived.

Coulson smiles.

“Think about it. You can tell Clint if that feels better. He’ll show you.”

He finishes his chocolate bar and turns on the television, switching immediately to a comedy.

.

Maria looks to where Natasha and Coulson sit on separate couches. She looks so uncomfortable.

Maria almost laughs.

Coulson is the most unassuming man and Natasha’s face is usually so masked.

“What’s he telling her?” she asks Clint, nodding to the other two.

“Not sure,” he says, after a moment.

“Something about Ohio? I don’t know, my lip reading is far better when I’m in front of people, not to the side.”

Maria understands the look.

“She lived in America once,” she offers.

Clint nods.

“I know.”

Maria decides to leave it. One of these days they should probably talk about Natasha, in a professional sense, to piece bits that they both know.

She’d only read parts of her debrief, but all of the information on the Red Room she knew.

“How’s your face?”

He laughs with a cringe.

“Face is fine, it’s the arm and ribs that hurt.”

He looks at her head.

“What happened to you?”

She recounts the parking lot, and he looks angry when she tells him who it was.

He tells her of his own attack, how Natasha is likely a better shot than he is and how they made it to the cabin safe house.

She likes the abandoned cabin. It’s saved her more than once.

“Did it go okay?”

Maria wants all the details, she wants to know everything that happened from the time she saw him last, and now, but she knows time likely will not allow that.

“Yeah, it was okay. I think… it was harder than I thought.”

She stands and grabs two bottles of water, opening one and handing it to him.

“In what way?”

Clint sits.

“I don’t know.”

Maria waits, knowing he wants to talk about it.

“Do you think that Olivia would have time to talk to her? Maybe we could go see her?”

Maria isn’t sure what she thought Clint would say; but it wasn’t this. She takes it as his way of saying that Natasha needs more help than he can give.

“Yeah, I think so. Coulson may know where she is.”

Clint looks down, avoiding her gaze.

“I think I need to talk to her too.”

Maria reaches across the table, and grasps his hand.

She hopes it’s reassuring.

.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

The Mummy 1999 Movie

Darling is a Librarian who dreams of becoming an Archaeologist (As she has a Degree in Egyptology) but has been constantly turned down, mainly because of her being a woman (Depending on the Timeline of which JJBA Part it’s more extreme to mild sexism)

This can either be with

1. Johnathan, Zeppeli, Speedwagon and Dio as the Mummy

2. Joseph, Caesar, Lisa Lisa and the Pillarmen as the Mummies

3. Jotaro, Old Joseph and DIO as the Mummy

4. Bruno and his Gang with Doppio as the loyal Servant to the Evil Pharaoh Diavolo

Darling accidentally awakens the Villainous Mummy when she read from the Ancient Egyptian Text/Scroll

Regardless of which Joestar, they discover they’re the Descendant/Reincarnation of the Pharaoh Johnathan and Late Pharaoh George

Dio/Kars/Diavolo intend to reward Darling by making her his Concubine, only to be smitten by her intelligence, wit, beauty and courage to try and stand up to him (And intend to make her his Queen, but he intends to Mummify Darling to make her Immortal like him)

The Joestars need to save Darling because only she can read the Ancient Egyptian Spells to stop Dio/Kars/Diavolo

What do you think? (Sorry for the constant posts, my ADHD is in hyperdrive right now with JoJo, Monster Movies and Scary Movies)

Oh ohhh ohhhh!

I don't remember a lot of the mummy 1999 because it has been ages since I watched it last but I did have a massive ancient Egypt phase (like to the point of making a 3d map of an ancient egyptan town along the nile with a village, farms, people, animals boats ect) as a kid and know quite a bit on the topic.

Jonathan and dio seem like a good pick as the Victorian Era was when England had a massive fascination with mummies.

Jonathan is an archeologist and is good friends with darling (she does have feeling for him but didn't have the courage to tell him) as they studied at the same university. He's always had a particular interest in ancient Egypt as his family has had a stone tablet in their line for generations that dates back to around that period. Darling has offered to transcribe the tablet for him but they've never gotten around to getting that done as both parties are too busy.

Darling works at the British museum as a librarian and trascriber as that was the only position they could get, as most expedition groups would turn her away.

One day the museum has a huge discovery delivered. The sarcophagus of a later Pharoah with the canopic jars and the many carved soldiers that were said to serve the Pharoah in the afterlife. As well as a stone tablet that darling is asigned to transcribe.

Darling speaks the inscriptions in the native language and the soldiers come to life and in full size. Attacking other workers in the museum. She tries hiding but is soon discovered and dragged over to the sarcophagus.

A voice speaks from within it. Offering them a place as a concubine for being the one to awaken him. Darling refuses, telling him that her heart is set on another, Jonathan Joestar.

Not taking kindly to the refusal, he demands his servants kill Jonathan. This leads to Jonathan getting attacked but is saved by his old teacher Mr Zeppeli who has knowledge of various cursed artifacts and had been trying to take the stone tablet and destroy it. Unfortunately the only way to stop the evil Pharoah Dio now is to find an ancient inscription that could undo the curse, however it has been lost to time.

They hide at the Joestar estate for awhile along with speedwagon, who warns Jonathan that the Pharoah has offered whoever can find Jonathan dead or alive a great sum of wealth.

During then Jonathan finds an old journal that links the tablet in his families possession to that off the lost one that Zeppeli mentioned.

During this time Dio's form has mostly regenerated. He's been using darling to get information about the world now as well as trying to whoo her but failing.

"I think I've mistaken you greatly (Y/n), someone as headstrong and intelligent as you is much more deserving of the title ḥmt nswt wrt (wife of king)" Dio would tell her. Of course she'd object but how so. At this point quite a few people have already taken to worshipping him (perhaps even a cult that has been worshipping him since his death and were aware of the tablet).

Of course he has them making preparations for darling to undergo the same ritual he went through. Which involves the actual mummifcation but being alive for at least part of the process. Which he is sure to explain in excruciating detail as he trails his still boney fingers across her abdomen. Luckily the ritual must start on the day of the summer solstice. Giving darling some time. But not a lot.

Jonathan would probably burst into the room just as the ritual was about to start.

(Sorry kinda went ham on my own thing but you do not understand how much I've wanted to have the excuse to write a yandere mummy scenario!)

[julysn]

rich ceo kyle headcanons

yall i just realized none of it is nsfw why do i have 1/4 of a chopstick for a brain

fandom: south park

ship: kyle broflovski x reader

general warnings: mainly pg-13

song rec: move - taemin

other notes: you’re his secretary

a/n: im so damn SICK! so i threw in some sick y/n at the end bc why not

୨୧⋆ ˚ — y'all know those kpop fanfics where the love interest is a hot, coldhearted and media-loved ceo? that's kyle. kyle IS the hot, coldhearted and media-loved ceo.

୨୧⋆ ˚ — whenever you're late to work he makes his coffee himself and always makes sure to make u a cup

୨୧⋆ ˚ — he gets insecure before press conferences and business dinners and whatnot. he always asks you if he looks fine, if he has anything in his teeth, if his hair looks good, and if his outfit is appropriate. you always reassure him and it’s so cute ☹️💗

୨୧⋆ ˚ — whenever you walk into his office and he’s doing documents or replying to emails, he has his reading glasses on and they’re low on his nose bridge and it’s ADORABLE.

୨୧⋆ ˚ — has a mini fridge in his office and cartman always raids it when he comes to visit

୨୧⋆ ˚ — behind closed doors he’s super sweet and understanding, even though his reputation is practically the opposite

୨୧⋆ ˚ — he buys lunch for the two of you and gets you to go pick it up, and then u guys eat alone in his office. u always sit across from him but sometimes he’ll let u sit beside him

୨୧⋆ ˚ — he is lowkey SO head over heels for you. if he catches anyone making fun of u—or if you tell him that someone was, he will fire them immediately

୨୧⋆ ˚ — very rich but doesn’t really like to flaunt it. fancy suits everyday? nah he usually wears baggy jeans and oversized hoodies instead

୨୧⋆ ˚ — the office buildings of his company are always so elegant and gorgeous

୨୧⋆ ˚ — has a playful personality and teases you sometimes

୨୧⋆ ˚ — def uses cheesy pickup lines on love interests. y’all know that scene from business proposal where taemoo says “do you know what my love for you and this credit card have in common? they both have no limit.” well kyle would use that 💀

୨୧⋆ ˚ — typa guy who’ll walk into one of those luxurious coffee shops downtown with his secretary so they can work together, instead of being at the office near all of the annoying interns

୨୧⋆ ˚ — typa guy to still visit + donate to animal shelters even if he has a busy schedule

୨୧⋆ ˚ — gives you “platonic” cheek kisses whenever nobody’s around. are u in his office and he says he needs to go get some documents and talk to someone? before he leaves he’ll kiss ur cheek

୨୧⋆ ˚ — whenever you’re sick he’ll make you stay at his place until you get better.

୨୧⋆ ˚ — he works from home on the days you’re sick, so he can keep an eye on u and make sure you’re feeling well

୨୧⋆ ˚ — sick? well kyle will make u a hot bath, tuck you into bed at night, and make u homemade soup (another hc that hes real good at cooking)

[7-wonders]

Can I request a Morpheus x reader fic where reader is really tired, but she ignores it and keeps doing what she has to do, even though she feels overwhelmed. Morpheus knows from her dreams how she's feeling, he feels bad cause she didn't tell him anything, so he decides to ask her and surprisingly, she breaks down, telling him everything. He listens and reassures her, telling she doesn't have to fake emotions with him, he loves her anyways. Thank you <3

It’s been a long couple of weeks, and life seems to really enjoy just kicking you in the ass. Be it at work, where your boss continues to chastise you for problems that are not your doing (really, how is it your fault the internet went down for an hour yesterday?), or the deluge of school projects and deadlines that are all coming at you in a short amount of time, or even just petty drama within your friend group. It’s stressing you out to be so busy, but is life not just a series of periods so busy that you think you might be losing your mind?

You’ve been able to find absolutely no respite, not even in sleep. This, you know, will soon become a problem, thanks to the fact that you’re somehow in a relationship with the Dreamlord. Your dreams have been just as stressful as your waking life, actually nightmares about failing at all of the tasks you’re working so hard on, and they’re almost always fitful to the point where you’re not even asleep long enough to recognize you’re in the Dreaming and will yourself to the Dreaming proper before you’re waking up with a jolt and staring in resignation up at your ceiling. He’s going to find out, it’s a matter of when, not if, so you’re hoping you can somehow be faster and magically finish all these stressful tasks before he decides to look into why you haven’t visited him in the Dreaming lately.

That plan is almost immediately derailed by the essay you’re currently stuck writing. By stuck, you mean that you have absolutely no idea of how to finish it. It’s a longer assignment, 10 pages, and though you have about half of it written and know the topic and how you had set out to complete this assignment, it’s suddenly as though you’ve forgotten everything you knew about writing. For almost an hour now, you’ve been stuck staring at the cursor as it blinks mockingly at you, daring you to try and write something, anything, that will make sense.

(Jeez, maybe you really do need a break if inanimate objects are starting to pick fights with you. Narrowing your eyes at the offending computer pixels, your hands hover over the keyboard and you decide that, actually, the best revenge is to make this bitch work overtime as you whip out the rest of this essay.)

When you feel a pair of large hands settle on your shoulders, you don’t even flinch, too focused on finishing typing the paragraph to even summon enough energy to be surprised. Plus, by now you just seem to innately know when Morpheus appears in your general vicinity, and this also takes away from the element of surprise he used to possess when you first began becoming involved with the King of Dreams.

After you’ve completed your sentence, you tilt your head backwards in order to properly look upside-down at Morpheus, who’s already smiling at your antics.

“Hi,” you greet.

“Hello.” He leans down to kiss you, before spinning your chair around so that you’re actually facing him. “You look tired.”

You huff out a laugh. “I’ve been tired for, like, a week now.”

“Your absence has been keenly felt by my realm’s denizens.”

With a raised eyebrow, you ask, “Just your denizens?”

“No being has missed you more than I,” he says with a smirk.

“That’s better.”

Gently, Morpheus tugs you up from your chair. “I believe that you deserve a break.”

“Isn’t that my line?” 

He just smiles in response (his smiles, of course, are fleeting and barely there, but you know how to spot them by now that you almost never miss them) and walks with you to your bed. Normally, when he’s spending too much time trying to get one of his new creations just right or when he’s too stuck on research and running himself ragged, convincing him to take a break is your specialty. You should protest this and insist that you need to finish your assignment first, but it’s almost impossible to say no to your beloved. Really, now you see why he gives in almost every time you pull this move on him.

When Morpheus does get you on your bed, he sits right next to you so your thigh is touching his. He’s so touch-starved that it would be almost endearing if you didn’t know the reason why. Instead, every time he has to be touching you, you just wish that Roderick Burgess was still alive so that you could beat him to death for what he did to Morpheus.

“If I have the wrong impression, feel free to say so.” Morpheus makes sure that you’re making eye contact with him, and you know that you’re screwed. “Are you alright, though?”

You were going to reassure him that everything was fine and that you could handle it, really, you were. And then he just has to go and cup your cheek with his hand and rub his thumb along the soft skin under your eye, and that ruins everything. The moment that he does that, you break and feel tears begin to spill down your face, which surprises you just as much as it surprises Morpheus.

“Y’know what, I don’t think I’m completely alright,” you admit through your sudden outburst of emotion. When Morpheus wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, your cries turn to sobs.

Sure, you know you’ve been stressed, but you didn’t think that it was “verge-of-a-mental-breakdown” stressed! Apparently, you were completely and utterly wrong, and now you’re facing the mortifying ordeal of being known in one of the most vulnerable ways that a human can be known.

One of the nice things about Morpheus is that he doesn’t try to fill any silences by talking or trying to distract you. Instead, he simply lets you cry it out. And cry you do, probably ruining his shirt–made out of the finest dreamstuff, of course–with all of your tears. You’ll worry about that later, though, when you don’t feel like your chest is caving in from crying.

When you finally feel like you can breathe, which is an indeterminate amount of time later, you pull yourself away from Morpheus’s chest and wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. You feel Morpheus push something into your other hand, and you look down to see he’s produced an actual handkerchief from out of thin air. Regardless of your continuing awe at the things he’s able to do, you take it from him.

“Thanks,” you say hoarsely, using the soft cloth now instead of your shirt. 

Morpheus allows you to collect yourself, rubbing his hand up and down your back and making sure that your breathing slows down to match his. Morpheus, of course, doesn’t actually need to breathe, but he’s currently doing so simply so that you have something to focus on. God, you love him so much.

Finally, you think you can form a full sentence without crying again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I really didn’t think I was at the level of stressed where I start crying.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Morpheus says firmly, leaving no room for discussion. “Why did you not tell me you were feeling this way?”

You scoff. “What, like I’m gonna bother you with my silly little human problems? Tell you that I’m stressed because of work and school and my friends? You have better things to worry about than that.”

“There is nothing more important to me than you. Not my power, nor my realm, nor my station–nothing. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

“Why?”

“I could sense the nature of your dreams, and the way that you kept waking up throughout the night. I assumed, however, that you would come to me first with your problems and that I would not have to seek you out.”

“So you forgot that stubbornness is one of my most endearing traits,” you say sheepishly. You had that very thought, that you should talk to Morpheus about how stressful your dreams were, but then talked yourself out of it due to believing he had better things to do than deal with one human’s dreams.

“Yes. My mistake.” The dryness of his tone makes you laugh a bit, and the relief on Morpheus’s face is palpable. “My love, you need not hide your worries from me.”

“I wasn’t trying to do so on purpose, I just…thought I could handle it myself.”

“Is it not part of a relationship that we both support and take care of each other?”

You nod begrudgingly. “It is.”

“You take care of me so ardently, in a way that nobody ever has before.” He brings his forehead to yours, sitting with you for a moment before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. When another tear escapes from your eye, he’s quick to meet it with his lips. “Won’t you allow me to return your kindness?”

“If you think you can handle it, then sure.” You’re still feeling a little self-deprecating, which, by the pout on his face, it’s obvious Morpheus doesn’t appreciate it.

“Caring for you is the easiest and most natural thing I’ve ever done.”

It’s obvious that he’s going to take you to the Dreaming, but you can’t help casting a helpless glance at your laptop, still sitting open on your desk. “I really need to finish my essay first.”

“No, what you need is to rest and relax, both of which you shall do in my realm. Your schoolwork will still be here when you return.”

“What if I just write, like, one more paragraph?” you try to barter. 

Morpheus remains unimpressed. “If you’d prefer me to use force to get you to the Dreaming, I certainly can.”

“No, I don’t have the energy to put up a worthy fight.” With that admission, you have no choice but to let him lift you up into his arms so that he can take you with him to the Dreaming.

Plus, the more that you think about being pampered by your ethereally attractive, devoted, eldritch nightmare king of a boyfriend, the less that homework seems important. Not that you’re going to let him know that, though.