#SWEET TEA: get ahold of yourself

[line-of-fire]

Sweet Tea: Isn't it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

[decentwritings]

Chapter 4

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

previous part <- -> next part

Danny paces back and force, hands over his head as he waits for any sign of anyone coming out of the building. Sam watches from a distance, being checked by the paramedics for any sign of injury.

The sun is rising, a glow in the sky that should signal hope but instead it reminds all of them the start of a new day, with the same problems from the night before. It feels like hours until he spots an officer coming out, alone. His blood goes cold, his heart thumping faster against his chest with every second that ticks by without a single sight of you.

"We got one!" Another officer shouts as he makes his way out of the building. He's helping you walk, with a lot of struggle. "They're refusing help." he shouts with a grunt.

Danny rushes over to take over for the officer. When he grabs ahold of you, he feels a huge weight lifted off him. He hears your refusals to get help but ignores you, dragging you to the free paramedics.

"I'm fine," you slur, waving your uninjured hand dismissively. The paramedic puts a cuff around your arm and you look at her, fascination and recognition on your face. "Ahh, Lauren! How have you been?" you ask, fighting the force behind your eyes.

The paramedic, Lauren, glances at your cousin as she takes a listen to your heart. "Let's worry about you, Y/N, okay?" she says, then begins to take your blood pressure.

You nod silently, looking over at Danny. "Is everyone okay?" you ask, concern filling your tired eyes. You grimace when Lauren grabs your injured hand.

Danny's eyes are threatening to spill tears but he chuckles, despite himself. "Everyone's fine," he shakes his head, unable to believe how hurt you are but worrying about others. "Alive, thanks to you."

You try to wave your hand, dismissing the compliment.

Lauren begins to wrap your hand after cleaning the wound. You grimace again, clenching your jaw at the pain.

"How do you know each other?" Danny asks when silence envelopes them.

Lauren waits for you to answer but you remain silent, watching her do her work. "We cross paths at work," she answers, and you hum in agreement. "They annoy the crap out of me and other paramedics when they aren't actually working."

"She flirts with me, all the time," you add.

"I do not," Lauren deadpans, giving your cousin a knowing glance. He nods in understanding, he knows how you are.

A second later, a short figure appears beside Danny. You think you're dreaming, but no, it's Tara. She's watching Lauren clean the cut on your abdomen carefully, and sees the way you grit your teeth to prevent yourself from displaying pain.

Once Lauren is done, she covers the cut with a large bandage. She grabs a computer and starts to type away. "You lost some blood, so I'd like to take you to the hospital," she tells you, though she looks at Danny since she knows you're incapable of absorbing anything right now.

Danny nods but you intervene.

"I'm good," you respond, blinking slowly. You shake your head, hoping it rids the drowsiness. It doesn't.

"Y/N, you need to go to the hospital," Lauren urges, staring at you sympathetically.

You shake your head again, more forcefully this time. "I don't need a hospital. I just need some juice and I'll be good," your voice wavers slightly, betraying the weakness you're trying so hard to conceal. You smack your lips. "I could really go for a Long Island Sweet Tea."

Lauren exchanges a glance with Danny.

In the distance, you spot Ethan making his way towards the scene. The pain in your abdomen and hand cease as you stand and stalk over to boy.

Danny and Tara exchange glances before they follow after you.

"Hey!" You shout after him, walking with a slight stumble. Ethan's face contorts into one of confusion before his eyes widen. You manage to push him against a car, jaw tight as you glare at him intensely. "You piece of shit, you tried to kill me!"

Danny rushes over as you slam the boy again, trying to get something more of a reaction. Blood begins to seep through the bandage on your hand, but you don't care much for it. His hand hovers over your shoulder, hesitating, because he knows you have every right to suspect Ethan but you are not in the right state of mind.

"Y/N, calm down," Danny urges, voice strained with worry. He knows adrenaline has kicked in, but the consequences when it goes away is what he's worried about.

Sam joins when she sees her sister reaching for you. "Hey," your eyes glance at Tara but your hold on the boy remains firm. "This isn't the time, you're hurt."

Ethan looks between all of them, even travels over to Chad standing a few feet behind. By the look on his face, he's sure he would have pulled the same stunt had you not done it first.

For a moment, you falter. The pain that was dulled by your rage creeps back in, gnawing at your abdomen and hand. You sway slightly, your strength ebbing away with each passing second. But just before you release him, you tighten your grip on his shirt and push him against the car once again, harsher than before.

Ethan grunts, holding the back of his head. You take a step back, slow and deliberate, eyes narrowed at him. The pain lingers, but you don't let it show even as Tara tugs you over, away from Ethan.

Chad nearly shoves you aside, pushing Ethan back into the same position. "They make a good point," the boy grunts under Chad stronger, tighter grip, "where were you? You were the only one gone and then my sister nearly dies!"

Ethan winces as Chad's grip tightens on his collar, eyes darting nervously between everyone around him. "I had Econ, you know this!" His voice cracks, but there's something off about the way he says it, like he's scrambling to pull together a story that no one is buying. He glances at all the eyes watching him, he feels caught. "I was in a lecture hall with a hundred other people, ask any of them!" he throws out.

Then, a gurney passes by with a white sheet covering a body.

Ethan's eyes widen. "Oh my god, who–"

"Quinn," Chad shoves him one more time, enlarging the bump on the back of his head. He clenches his jaw, finding some self control to walk away from the boy. Instead, he returns to his sister's side, helping her girlfriend console her.

Ethan attempts to go over to them, but Mindy sends him a glare. "Back the fuck up," she shouts, startling the paramedic caring for her. "You're at the top of my list."

Anika grabs her girlfriend's hand, wanting to calm her down.

"I had Econ!" Ethan shouts again, looking around all their faces.

Your eyes connect with his and for a moment he lets his shy and dorky act drop. A dark look crosses his face and you try to stand from where Tara shoved you down to sit, but she grips your arm to keep you in place.

Bailey is by the entrance of the building, still in disbelief of his daughter's death. Sam gestures to her sister, silently telling her to join her.

"Stay here, don't move," Tara orders you, eyes hard as you stare back at her with a blank expression. She rolls her eyes then walks off to join her sister, looking at Danny to warn him.

Danny nods and hurries to join you before you can make any moves. You hold your injured hand close to your chest, frowning as you look over at your cousin.

"You're not invincible," Danny tells you, shaking his head solemnly. He sighs. "I'm sorry I brought you into this. Especially with everything you've been going through. This is last thing you needed."

Your gaze travels to Tara, unable to put into words the feeling you get when you look at her. You force yourself to look away, looking to your cousin with a head shake. "I needed this," you tell him, aware of his confusion at your words. "I ran away when my dad was dying, avoided seeing him at every cost. I think about what I could have done differently, to help him...to save him."

Danny sees the distant look in your eyes, the gears turning in your head as you go over possibilities. "You're not a miracle worker, Y/N," he says, her tone soft to be sure he doesn't mean it differently. "Your dad knew you, and he knew if you could, you would have been there."

You catch sight of Gale in the corner of your eye, and you see her join the sisters and Detective Bailey.

"Yeah, well," you start, getting to your feet with less struggle than before. Danny still has his hands up, ready in case you need his help. "I can be there now, so I will be."

"Sam..." Danny starts, almost upset by what he's going to say. "They don't trust anyone. I told her to not even trust me."

Your neck snaps to look at him, glaring, because the thought of anyone distrusting your cousin angers you. "You can be trusted, Danny," you state firmly, but he shakes his head in answer. "You've saved them. You went out to search for them, knowing there was a psycho out there willing to kill you if you get in his way–you're the only one they should trust." you insist.

Tires screech as car comes to a rough stop, interrupting your conversation with your cousin. Kirby exits the car and sends you a small smile, nodding once, before she joins the group.

"Y/N," Danny sighs, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "It's not about what I've done. It's about what they've been through. Trust is earned, but trauma makes people question everything—even the ones closest to them. You can't take it personally."

You shift, the weight of his words sinking in, though they don't fully quell your frustration. "You're her boyfriend, and you have been put through un-boyfriend like things. You could have walked away–we could have walked away way before we got anymore involved, but we stayed." Danny's lack of response makes you continue. "Practically makes us family. I mean, blood was drawn." you gesture to your injured hand.

Danny shrugs, solemn, and looks down at the ground to avoid your eyes. "Sometimes, family is the hardest to trust."

The words feel like a slap to the face. You know he didn't mean any hurt but it still hit you hard. His words ring true, your mother's harsh words at your father's funeral echoing in your mind. She was emotional, you constantly remind yourself, and she's doing everything to make up for saying those words. Constant checkins, the random texts of expression of her love for you, and the sharing of old photos of when you were younger or an old family photo.

Still, your heart falls and tears form in your eyes. The feeling to crawl into your bed and hide away surfaces, but you force yourself to push it away because that is what got you into this mess. Into the emotional mess that you are in.

"Look," Danny says, breaking the silence between you. "I know you want to jump in, help, fix everything—but you need to take care of yourself first. You've been through hell tonight."

You shake your head, gaze now locked on the group. "I've been through worse," you mutter, though even you aren't convinced by your words.

Just before you can make another move, the sisters move away from the group and walk over to you two. You share a look with Danny just before they step in front of you.

"Gale has something to show us," Sam crosses her arms, appearing upset of having to inform you both.

"We think you guys should stay," Tara says, glancing at her sister. Sam nods in agreement, but remains quiet.

You scoff, opening your mouth to argue but Danny grips your shoulder, keeping you quiet.

"Just be safe," Danny says but his eyes remain on Sam. The older Carpenter nods, then taps her sister's arm before she walks away.

Tara sends one last smile at you before she turns. You glance at Danny, and he's walking away, probably struggling to go; wanting to go with Sam.

You hurry after Tara. "Hey, wait," you grab her hand, and that's when you see it. The scar on her hand, probably similar to the one you may have once your hand heals. She feels your stare, snatching her hand out of your grip.

"Sorry," you apologize, genuinely and try to avoid showing any pity. You hate when people give you the pity look, so you assume everyone else does too. You clear your throat. "Um, I just...I know I have no place to worry, but be careful."

Tara's eyes soften at your words, though her guard remains up. She looks down at her hand, flexing it slightly before meeting your gaze. "You don't have to worry about me," she says quietly, her voice measured but not unkind. "I can handle myself."

You nod, understanding her need to assert her strength, concern still remains within you. "Trust me, I know," you say, remembering the punch she hit Gale with. "But I just wanted to say it," you shrug.

Tara looks at you, and you feel like she's staring right at your soul. For a minute, you wish this was just a normal day and you bumped into her, so you can ask her out to get to know her. But no, this isn't a normal day.

You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly nervous under her gaze. It makes sense now, what that feeling was earlier when you looked at her. Though, now you're even more upset, because you know you'll never be able to act on these feelings.

Tara bites her lip and takes small steps back, giving you a reassuring nod.

You watch her join her sister, unable to take your eyes off her as she walks away. There's a gnawing feeling and it feels terrible, but you shove it down. You force your feet to move, turning to leave with your cousin.

Danny invites you to stay at a hotel with him, but you tell him you need to check on your sister's dogs. Plus, you were in need of some puppy time after this awful event. He nods, doesn't like that you're going alone, but doesn't say it or show it.

"Besides, Remy's a pitbull and Blackie's a German Shepard," you add, shrugging as you continue your walk down the street. "Alex did a good job on training them. They're guard dogs," you mention your brother-in-law, knowing Danny knew of his determination to have those dogs well trained.

"Fine," Danny relents with a sigh, "but if anything suspicious occurs–I'm talking a trash can falls over, anything, call me. Got it?"

You salute him. With your bleeding hand. He frowns but doesn't hold you back, allowing you to walk away.

\\\\

After a long shower, you collapse on the guest bedroom's comforter. Lauren gave you extra bandages for your wounds since you denied the ride to the hospital again. She also threatened your life if you died and got her fired for it. So with that threat in mind, you did a decent job on trying to imitate the job she did earlier.

You grab a pillow and hug it tight against your chest. Soon, Remy and Blackie join you on the bed, practically shoving you off it.

"I'm regretting this decision," you mutter, patting Remy gently. He gets the hint and moves over a little. You readjust yourself, shutting your eyes and allow slumber to engulf you.

You hear Blackie's growl, awaking you from your sleep. You lift your head, looking around the room for anything. It's pitch dark and you aren't sure when you closed the blinds. Or if you even closed them.

Were they closed when you got here?

Remy stands on the bed, appearing defensive and you sit up cautiously. You look between the two dogs, noticing their defensive stance.

You stand, ordering them to stay as you do. They whine at your order and your suspicions are confirmed when they do. They want to defend you from the danger they feel coming, so you hurry out the room and close it behind you.

Any harm happens to those dogs and you're positive a wrath you're sure you have somewhere in you will be released.

You wander over to your brother-in-law's office, finding his autographed baseball bat hung on the wall. You snatch it off its display and stare at it.

You debate whether to use it as a weapon or not. You shrug dismissively.

"I'll get him another one," you mumble, resting the bat on your shoulder as you prepare your search of the house.

As you peek over each wall as you wander down the house's halls, you hear your phone ring in the kitchen. You had left it there charging, not wanting to search your sister's room for an extra charger.

Making your way to your phone, you're still vigilante, guard still up.

The ringing doesn't stop, not even after ten rings. You huff, unaware phones could ring for that long.

Taking your phone off the charger, you finally answer the phone. And wait.

"Hello, Y/N."

You roll your eyes, already tired of this conversation.

"Sup, Ethan," you greet in return and smirk at the silence. "So, what exactly goes on during these calls? Do we share secrets?"

Silence continues and you check to make sure he didn't hang up.

"Well, I got one," you continue after seeing the call remained connected. "I never really liked you. Yeah. Since the moment Anika introduced me to the group, you were just...I don't know, I just didn't like you," you shrug.

There's a pause on the other end of the phone, and you hear a shuffle then creak over the line. "This isn't a game, Y/N," he finally speaks, and you keep your eyes wandering around to avoid him surprising you. "I'll give you one chance...stay out of this and you won't get hurt; anymore."

You hear his words, you do. But all you can think about is, "I hear you, I really do..., but I also didn't hear you deny that you're Ethan." You stupidly laugh, angering the killer even more. "Yeah, I'm not staying out of this. You almost killed me!" You shout, anger resurfacing at the memory.

"Ten seconds," he says and you roll your eyes, exiting the kitchen, entering the living room. "Run, while you still can."

"What makes you think I'd run?" You scoff, tapping the end of the bat against your foot.

Pause. Another creak sounds.

"Because you run from people who need help," his words echo in your mind and you freeze in place, jaw tightening. You hear a sinister laugh, and it sends a chill down your spine. "Time's up."

Bless your sister and her need for a random mirror in her living room. You swiftly avoid the knife after catching sight of him through the mirror. You turn and swing the bat, dropping your phone on the ground.

GhostFace grabs the bat and rips it from your grip, snapping it in half.

"Hey!" You shout, irritated now.

He tilts his head, and you think you see amusement behind the mask. You take a few tentative steps back, creating some distance.

You see him begin to lunge, but you hold your hands up and shout, "Wait!"

He actually listens, freezing his arm in the air.

"Can we move this outside? My sister will kill me if I make a mess in her house," you say and he unfreezes, attempting to slash at you. You grab his wrist, holding it in place. "Fine! But I'm sending you the bill for everything you break." You snarl before shoving back.

Ghostface stumbles back, surprised at your sudden burst of strength. He tilts his head again, almost considering your words. There's a brief pause before he lets out a low, distorted chuckle. "You don't know when to quit, do you?" he hisses, his grip tightening on the knife.

The voice sounds weirder in person, you think.

You take another step back, keeping your eyes locked on his every move. "I've been told I'm stubborn," you shrug, focusing on his movements. You try to calculate his next move. "Is there usually this much talking during a fight in horror movies?"

He lunges again, ignoring your question, but this time you're ready. You sidestep him, shoving him toward the bookshelf. The shelves wobble, and a few books topple over, but you don't give him a chance to recover. You hear something shatter and you gasp.

"That was my sister's wedding portrait!"

Ghostface lets out a frustrated growl, clearly not expecting you to keep up the banter. He's quick, though, recovering faster than you'd hoped. You barely manage to duck when he swings the knife at you again.

"You talk too much," he snarls between slashes.

You dodge each slash, confusion crossing your face. "You were a lot faster last time," you comment, grabbing his wrist and knocking the knife out of his hand.

Mindy's words return to your memory. She used the term, "killers." Plural.

You're distracted and he uses it to his advantage, lunging at you, toppling you both over. You both crash into the front door, knocking it off its hinges. You manage to lift your arms to blow each of his blows, and you realize these punches are much lighter than the one you felt in Sam's apartment.

"Oh, so not Ethan," you murmur as you succumb some extra strength, kicking this GhostFace off you. You scramble back, feeling the deck under your hands. When you stand, you find the door on the floor. "Come on, man!" You exclaim, gesturing to the broken door.

GhostFace tilts their head, and slowly lifts the knife up to your eyesight. You raise your fists up, getting into an offensive stance. They dangle it in the air for a moment, as if taunting you.

You drop your fists, annoyed, your patience wearing thin. "Can we...please," you make a come here motion, and they take it as permission.

GhostFace charges at you, knife raised. You decide to take them head on, wanting to get close again. You don't why you haven't ripped the mask off yet.

You grab their arm just as the blade nears your neck, and, because you're focused on getting the mask off, you don't see their other hand raising. Your jaw aches and you get light headed for a moment. They get another hit, knocking you down, onto the grass.

It doesn't help you at all, and you take hits to the face twice before you see the glimmering blade of their knife. You stare at it and huff, this is what I get for being cocky, you think.

Then, you see a flash of blue and red. You think you're hallucinating for a second but when you tilt your head back to look, you see it. A chuckle escapes your lips.

"Ha, the cavalry has arrived!" You shout, then grunt when you feel a punch to your face again. You shake your head and lift your head to look around, but GhostFace disappeared. "How do they do that?" You let your head fall back, tired.

There's a plethora of shouts. One from the police, either saying to freeze or announcing their arrival. Then, you hear your name being shouted soon after.

From two different people. There's an outstretched hand in front of you moments later. Your cousin stands before you and you smile, chuckling at the irony that, once again, he's there to pick you up.

You grab his hand, using him as a crutch when you stumble slightly. He makes sure you're well enough before letting you go.

Tara's next to him, eyes filled with worry. You're beginning to hate yourself for making her worry so much. Sam isn't that far behind, and you offer them both a small, but reassuring, smile.

You look back at your sister's house and drop your head with a sigh. "My sister is gonna kill me," you mumble.

Danny pats your back carefully. "Let's get you checked out," he walks close to you as you make your way over to the paramedics.

The flashing reds and blues calms you a little, given that GhostFace appears scared of it. You settle on bumper of the ambulance, allowing the paramedic clean the cuts on your face.

Tara, Sam and Danny all silently watch as you get cared for, almost like they can't believe you made it out alive. It hits you then, along with the sting of your cuts being cleaned, you're alive.

You didn't run. Even when given the option to run.

"I didn't run," you say aloud, and it had a weird taste in your mouth. You notice them all give you looks of confusion. "I didn't run," you repeat to them.

Danny smiles, an actual smile that isn't one to reassure you. But a proud and happy smile.

You look between Tara and Sam, expression contorting into one of determination. "Whatever plan you guys have, I want in," you say, thanking the paramedic when she's done. You stand, more steady than before. "Once you're in, you're in, right?"

Tara and Sam share a look, small smiles on their lips. They look back at you, nodding.

"Okay," Sam says, extending her hand. "You're in then."

You see Tara's smile widen when you take Sam's hand in yours.

[lavenderchqn]

"MULTIPLICATION LENS"

synopsis — you have been stealing pantalone's glasses for a while now... so what happens when the lovely 9th harbinger is down to his last pair? pairing — pantalone x gn!reader warnings — implied murder, slightly suggestive at the end, possible wrong use of Dottore's actual name, overall chaos :D notes — this oneshot was inspired by a headcanon by @teabutmakeitazure on tumblr, as well as some of the comments under her post!

At first… It happened out of love. 

With Pantalone’s tendency to slave away at his desk, doing his work outside his working hours… You once found out that stealing his glasses was the only way to get him some rest. 

It worked amazingly… at first. 

His first attempt at stopping your antics was to have his glasses connected by a chain. Well, it worked great… until you found a workaround for it. 

Your solution was to stand directly behind him, sweet-talking him to have him lose focus… and when the moment came, you’d simply get the glasses with the chain attached and make a run for it. 

To be frank, Pantalone could easily reclaim his property. It was not only due to his office carrying more than enough pairs to not get concerned with one going missing, but also keeping you entertained. 

After all, if your spouse had to resort to stealing your tool for eyesight, there must’ve been a lack of affection on your part. Therefore, he simply did not pay as much attention to whatever you decided to do with his glasses from that point onwards. 

One by one, your racoon self managed to empty his once full drawer.

And yet, at some point, things managed to get even more chaotic. 

Pantalone was now left to his last pair of glasses — beautiful chain intact. 

It’s been months since you began to steal his glasses… and yet no matter what he did, he never managed to retrieve a single pair. Even though he would never suggest that you get involved with the Fatui, your skills have proven more efficient than most agents working under him. 

Thus, he forged a plan. 

From a singular glance, it was obvious that the last pair in his cabinet would be the most prized ones. Truly a trophy for your ever-rising collection. Gaining it would prove that your skills triumphed even over the 9th harbinger. 

Why not play a game of cat and mouse for it then? 

In all the years of you being married, Pantalone had learned your routine to perfection. 

You had the tendency to check on him at 6 PM every single day, aside from weekends. Saturday and Sunday were his strict no-work days, given that everyone — even workaholics of his calibre — should take breaks occasionally. 

There were days when you’d bring a cup of tea for him to enjoy, courtesy of many maids working at the estate. Other times you’d just come and spend some time to talk about your day, taking a seat on your dedicated armchair in his office. 

For those, where exhaustion made him fall asleep at his desk, you’d storm in with a blanket covering his body, usually staying long enough where he’d wake up from his nap. That would signify the end of said day’s work, the two of you spending the rest of it relaxing. 

Just… how did you know exactly what he was doing each day?

6 PM of today came around shortly, you didn't show up even once to check beforehand. 

His plan of motion was now finally being put into place. 

A soft knock on his door caught his attention, beginning his act of “napping”. Perhaps this was your means of figuring out what to do next. Rationally speaking, getting him a blanket after not showing signs of awareness would be obvious given the silence. 

Once you waited long enough, he could hear the sound of you walking away, most likely to get ahold of a comforter. 

You came back soon enough, opening the door slowly — to not startle him awake. 

“Let’s see…” You whispered to yourself, settling something behind his back before peering over his shoulder. “Zandik’s trying to get funding again? Man, he sure never stops.” 

Well, that was most certainly odd. No one used actual names to address other harbingers, let alone Dottore. 

Pantalone had to keep his composure, though… acting as if you’re sleeping was way more difficult than it seemed to be initially. 

Even if you caught his unnatural behaviour, you didn’t mention it — slowly tucking his hair behind his ear. How interesting. 

Pantalone thought you’d take the first possible chance to steal his glasses. Yet, here you were, organising his pens, sorting papers that fell to the floor… Acting like a dainty and adorable darling.  

Well, you did make your attempt soon enough. 

You’ve managed to sweep some dust, group papers based on importance and slowly yet swiftly, akin to a fox, you’ve made a move for his glasses. 

Hell, you would’ve even gotten away with it, if not for Pantalone’s equally fast reaction time. His hand locked around your wrist holding his frame, keeping it in a vice. 

“And what do we have here, Darling?” His coy voice putting a smug grin on your face.

“A loving and caring spouse, dearest Husband.” Despite your movement, you’ve managed to keep up the cheerful and loveable attitude. “Sleeping in glasses gives you headaches.” 

That was most absolutely correct… There were countless days and nights when you had to comfort your husband stuck in the misery of migraines. 

It’s been barely a minute of you stuck in this weird position. Your wrist starting to hurt a lot in the last few seconds, probably due to Pantalone’s nails digging into the skin.

“Could you unhand me?” You ask, gracing him with puppy-like eyes. “It’s starting to hurt.” 

Your husband lets go of you instantly, flashing a worried look and a whispered apology. Playing around was enjoyable at times, but causing you any pain — be it physical or emotional — was an enormous boundary of his. 

Unfortunately for Pantalone, you’re more than a simple spouse. With one last swift move, you grab his frames and make a run of it. 

Your master plan’s completion sets the estate into chaos. Well, it’s a simple commotion between two married people, yet maids can’t turn their eyes away from the situation they're witnessing.

A daring [Y/N] running away from her dear husband, his glasses in hand. To his credit, Pantalone is managing to keep up with your surprising speed. And Pierro has him reduced to a simple act of a Regrator? 

You have been doing your best to gain some speed advantage, just to get to your trophy cabinet as soon as possible… Why can’t Pantalone just give up and let you boast about your accomplishment...  

With how long of a game of cat and mouse this has been, you’re quickly losing steam. There is one last light of hope soon making itself known. 

The door to your study. 

You pull on the doorknob as precisely as possible, opening the door. Unfortunately for you, Pantalone managed to keep up and is just a step behind you.

 It seems playtime has now come to an end. 

“Darling, my glasses.” Based on his voice, he’s not even remotely tired after the chase that just happened. Well, neither are you, but the point still stands! 

“I have won them fair and square.” You go into the room, standing in front of a locked cabinet. 

Pantalone is beside you, his body language signalising he’s not as excited as you are. At the same time, he’s not trying to get his frames back by force… Maybe he now realises that there’s simply no use. 

“Beloved,” You open the cabinet. “Behold my collection.” 

There they are… all the other pairs that you had successfully stolen. Displayed alongside a tiny description, listing the date of the robbery. 

Pantalone sighs, extending his hand to ask again for his frames.

“I will give you them ‘back’ shortly,” He says, noticing your hesitance. “At least allow me to marvel at your accomplishment without having to squint.” 

There’s no harm in doing that, you think. Well, you close and lock the study’s door… just as an additional measure. 

With his glasses back on it’s rightful and yet wrong at the same time, place Pantalone is allowed to take in your past deeds. A collection spanning dates from almost a year, every pair presented with magnificence and beauty. 

However, just as Pantalone is about to comment, he notices something reflecting on one of the bottom shelves. 

“Treasure, what’s kept in that drawer?” He points to a drawer, unrecognisable at first glance. Made with tempered glass, there’s difficulty in trying to gauge its content.

You get visibly nervous at the sole thought of showing Pantalone your other… collection.

“Surely it cannot be that bad, Darling.” 

“Oh, you might divorce me once you see it…” 

“I’d rather work full-time with Tartaglia than divorce you, Love.” 

Filled with newfound confidence, you get the drawer open. Then follows the second and third one.

They’re filled to the brim with… Fatui insignias.

At a simple glance, there must be more than a thousand… from recruits to lieutenants, you have them all. 

Pantalone stares at them in utmost shock. Just, how did you manage to get your hands on so many? 

“Care… to elaborate, Darling?”

“Oh, I was just bored.” Your husband is floored at your answer. 

“This is not the time and place for jokes, Love.” 

“I mean, I was bored for like… two years straight?” 

Pantalone blinked, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of your confession. Two years? He couldn't fathom how, in his meticulously guarded world, you had managed such an astonishing feat without him noticing.

“Bored?” His voice, usually so composed, held an edge of incredulity. “Two years of boredom led to... this?” He gestured to the overflowing drawers of Fatui insignias, his expression a mix of awe and disbelief.

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Well, you were always busy with work, and I had to find something to keep myself entertained. It started as a little game—seeing how far I could go before anyone noticed. And then, it became a sort of... hobby.”

“A hobby,” Pantalone repeats, shaking his head as he examines one of the insignias more closely. “Do you realise how dangerous this could have been? How many agents must have been in a frenzy trying to find these?

“Well, they are probably not in the health… to look for them,” you reply with a wink, clearly unbothered by the potential ramifications. “Besides, not a singular harbinger has noticed. I made sure of it.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples as if trying to ease an impending headache. “You truly are something else, Darling. How many agents have you gotten killed?���and for what? A collection?”

“A very impressive collection,” you correct him, your grin widening. “And one that took a lot of effort and skill to amass, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh yeah, and the numbers are somewhere in the tens of thousands.”

Pantalone sighs, deciding not to pry any further. It’s for the best not to know the details of your spouse going on… murder sprees… on your employees.

With a slow move, he takes off his glasses, moving them into your palms. It’s followed by a slow dip, just so that he can be as close to you as possible. 

“Well then, Darling.” He whispers into your ear. “As the victor of our little game, how about I congratulate you in ways other than words.” 

date of posting — august 15th 2024

[luvv4j4ybe11]

could i request a hobie brown friends to lovers fic/drabble/whatever you’d like… im YEARNING for this man 😭😭😭 i fear i wont survive if they dont announce btsv release date soon im living off of crumbs rn!!!

𝑶𝒖𝒉𝒉 𝒐𝒇𝒄!! 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔!

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔~ 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒉𝒐𝒃𝒊𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝑺𝑯𝑳𝑼𝑻𝑻 (𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑻 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒐😮‍💨), 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒍 𝒃𝒊𝒕, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒕!! 𝑳𝒎𝒌 𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝑫𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒃𝒚- @h-aewo and @dollywons

You’ve always known that you and hobies “friendship” was different than any other ones you’ve had. You two were always swerving between the lines of a platonic relationship, and a romantic one. The both of you knew about your crushes on each other, but were simply too afraid to commit to anything more intimate because of your busy schedules.

It was a free day today for the both of you, so of course you decided to spend the day with him. Walking into his apartment, him sprawled out on the couch while mindlessly strumming random notes on his guitar, but his attention quickly being directed towards you once he sees that pretty face that he loves so much.

“I thought ya’ weren’t goin ta’ show, lovie” he teases, knowin damn well you don’t like to be apart from him for long. You smile at the name he called you, “eh, I got bored of my place and plus, I missed my husband” you say with a sarcastic smirk on your face, the comment making him giggle. You walk over to the kitchen to drop the snacks you brought for him mainly you onto the counter before plopping yourself onto the couch next to him. “Oh, did ya’ now?” He purrs, tilting his head as he studies your expression.

You feel yourself flush and grow warm under his strong gaze, but you don’t let your nerves get ahold of you, “mhm, couldn’t be away from you for more than two hours, I just love you sooooo much, I think my heart might burst!”you say with fake enthusiasm, placing a hand over your heart and sighing dramatically. He laughs at your antics as he reaches for the remote to look for a movie, “wha’ do we wanna watch, love?” He asks as he moves his legs so you can sit closer to him, to which you take the invitation immediately. “Mmmmmm, what about that one horror movie that miles was talking about? shit, what was it called?” You look up at the ceiling and try to remember the name of the movie. “the descent’?” hobie chimes in, “yeah! Damn your memory is better than mine, b” you admit as you get up to go get some snacks, “it’s because I’m olda n wisa”, hobie quips as he gets up and follows you to the kitchen. “Yeah, i don’t know about that wiser part, and you’re only older than me by a month, not even!” You point out as you reach in his fridge to pour both of you a glass of some sweet tea, handing his to him before you seat yourself on his counter as you watch him make popcorn. “Still older than you though,” he says matter of factly, crossing his arms and ankles as he leans against the counter, waiting for the popcorn to finish. “Whatever, b” you huff, now more focused on how well that shirt was fitting him; it made him look so broad and taller than he already was, and how those sweats he had on made his legs look so long, and meaty, they fit just right that you can so clearly see the imprint of his cock.

“You know, it’s rude to stare, pretty girl,” his soothing baritone knocked you out of your trance, but that made you realize he was staring at you just as hard, the tank top you were wearing made your slim figure more defined, and the bra you were wearing with that made your tittes sit nice and pretty, along with your juicy couture track pants that made your thighs and ass look absolutely delicious to hobie. “You should take your own advice, b” you reply, tone laced in honey. “Mhm, guess I should,” he says calmly as he walks towards you and places his hands on either side of your thighs, cadging you in. “You drive me crazy, ya know tha, sweetheart?” His tone is low and raspy, the deepness of his voice makes you subconsciously shiver, “oh, I’m well aware, b,” you say in a low, sultry tone.

But before either of you could make a move, the alarming beep of the microwave went off, but hobie still lingered near your figure, “you should get that, b. Wouldn’t want it to burn, ya’know” his eyes flick to your lips for a split second before meeting your alluring gaze again. “ ‘pose ya right, dove” he agrees as he reluctantly pushes himself off the counter, mourning the loss of your body heat against his. You take a moment to collect yourself, to not let your nerves and feelings get the best of you, but your body was determined to ignore the pleas of your mind.

Tossing the popcorn in a bowl, you watch as he adds butter, parmesan, and salt to it (don’t knock until you try it yall, ik it sounds like the most yt ppl combo ever but it’s so FYEEEE🤤) and pops a few into his mouth, holding the bowl out to you as a gesture for you to take some, to which you do happily. “Mhm, I’ve been thinkin about this all week, b, it’s not the same when I make it,” he chuckles at your comment before nodding his head to the living room, signaling for you to follow him. “Oh, yeah?, guess I’ll just have to make popcorn to get you to stay here, huh?” You look up at him with a smirk before reaching your hand in the bowl to grab a few more pieces, “I guess so, pay me for each night and I’ll stay here forever” you quip as you throw two pieces into your mouth and flop onto the couch.

He scoffs and lets out a little, “oh, 100%” before placing the popcorn on your lap and picking up your legs so he can sit down, gently placing your legs back on his lap once he’s settled. The action had you flushed, sure, you guys were flirty with each other but you were never really physically affectionate with one another. Your eyes were glued on his long, thick fingers were oh so casually caressing the soft skin of your upper calve, even though the action was small, you felt a familiar throbbing between your legs.

His attention was stuck onto the TV, scrolling through to find the movie you guys wanted to watch before finally finding it and playing it. Placing the remote down at his side, the hand that was holding it now finds purchase on the middle of your calve, drawing the same soothing motions on it like he was doing with his left. You tried to focus on the movie and the yummy bowl of popcorn resting on your lap, but you eyes kept falling onto those veiny hands that you’ve imagined doing much lewder things than they were barely doing right now. The sound of your heartbeat was loud enough for you to hear it in your ears, and you knew hobie could hear it too, you could tell by the way the smirk on his face got wider dispite there being nothing entertaining going on in the movie- and how he ever so slightly moved his hands up further, so his left was resting on your knee and his right now where his left was originally.

“Damn, lovie, you gettin beatin up in ya sleep o’ whut?” He asked, referring to the plethora of bruises on your legs and knees especially. A giggle escapes from you, “yeah that, and I’m just clumsy. I wasn’t granted the gift of being spatially aware..it’s a hard life I live, bee, you couldn’t imagine,” you end with a dramatic huff and a shake of your head, making hobie form a feigned look of sympathy on his face, “awee, I kno’ ,baby. Must be such a struggle for you ta just exist wiffout hurtin yourself in some way, huh?” He remarks teasingly with a tilt of his head, making you giggle in response before you both turn your attention back to the movie.

-

About halfway through the movie you guys have already demolished the popcorn and placed it aside, the both of you now laying in a more comfortable position- with you laying on his chest and him leaning against a pillow, rubbing your back in soothing figure eights. The position had your heart beating even louder, the sound of it making hobie chuckle, instantly making your body grown warm with embarrassment, “you nervous, bunny?” The deep timber of his voice startled you at first, since you were getting so used to the quiet- but it was never really quiet when it was you and hobie. “mm..a little..” he scoffs, “you lia, I’ve been listenin to your heartbeat ever since you’ve walked in and it hasn’t slowed down since, if anythin it keeps gettin quicka” damn. You’ve always hated and loved how observant he was. It was something that made you fall for him even harder, but also made you want to punch him square in his pretty face.

Hooking his thumb and pointer under your chin, he raises you head up so you’re looking at his intense eyes, “tell me whut’s got you all hot n bothered, babygirl,” he knew exactly what was the reason for your state right now, he just wanted to hear the words fall from your sweet, kissable, lips. You inhale shortly before letting out a quiet, “..you are..” staring at anything but his eyes, but the scoff that came from his lips told you he wasn’t having any of that. Swiftly, he picks you up and scooches himself back on the couch so he was resting comfortably against it before placing you on his lap, now holding your face with his entire hand with a light but firm grip, enough to make your cheeks squish together softly. “Wanna try that again, bunny?” He inquired, tilting his head to the left as he started into your doe eyes, “you are, b..” you spoke with a soft huff, a pout painting your features as you grew mad at your body and mind for so easily melting into his hold.

He bit his lip to try to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape from him, “you’re so adorable,” you glare at him in response, but he doesn’t even flinch under your gaze, instead he focuses on your lips, caressing the soft flesh with the pad of his thumb. You scooch forward on his lap, eager to get a taste of him, but his firm hold on your jaw stops you. “Ah, ah, use your words, dove,” you suppress another huff, instead opting for playing with hobies necklace you bought him for his birthday, “need you to kiss me, b..” he raises his brows, as if he were waiting for you to say more, “..please.” He smiles in approval, giving you a quick kiss to your forehead before trailing down to your lips, kissing you slow, but passionately.

The yearning and anticipation for this moment is poured into every touch of each other’s lips, both of you grabbing onto one another as if you’d fade away if you broke it. You cup the side of his face with your right hand while your left cups the back of his neck, as his other hand roamed from the small of your back to your hip. You feel his tongue lightly brush the bottom of your lip, his way of asking you for permission. You grant his wish eagerly, opening your mouth for him to invade the warmth of it, a soft whimper leaving you when you feel his piercing brush against your tongue, the noise making his grip on you tighten immediately. Each of your muscles swirl together in synchronicity, as if you had to put no thought into kissing him.

Reluctantly, you both pull away slightly, needing to catch y’all’s breath, but not without a string of saliva connecting your lips together. The sight makes you giggle as you rest your forehead against his. “I need you ta be my girl. My love. My everything. Whut d’you say, pretty?” He looks at you with nothing but sincerity in his eyes, studying your face as if it’s the last time he’ll see it. The confession has tears burning in your eyes, a wave of mixed emotions hitting you but two of them were clear; relief, and happiness. You let out an excited giggle, as you nod your head yes while chanting the same word, leaving kisses all over his face as if he just accomplished something amazing (which to both of you, he did), “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that!, I just honestly thought you didn’t have the balls to do so, but I’m glad you proved me wrong.” He makes an offended scoff at your words, placing a hand on his heart dramatically, “ouch, love, you of all people know that I have the balls to do a lot of things most people wouldn’t” you tilt your head at him, “yeah but when it comes to your feelings and committing to something those balls shrivel up into dust, don’t they?” You remark with a smirk, leaving hobie speechless. He knew there was no point in arguing and saying you were wrong, because you weren’t. You knew him better than he knew himself at times, and that’s why he loves you.

He huffs and lets out a quiet, “whatever, you win this time,” which earns a sweet laugh from you, the noise making his heart flutter and a warm smile coat his face.

He squeezes your his lightly to get your attention, “I love you, y/n” he coos, looking at you with pure adoration and love. Tears burn in your eyes again, the warmth of his words making you place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I love you, hobie”

~

𝑨/𝑵~ 𝑾𝑬 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶 𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲!! 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐!, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒔 𝒊 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓! 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒍😭 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝑰'𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓. 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒚𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝑴𝑾𝑨𝑯!!💕💕

𝑫𝑼𝑪𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑺!🫶🏽

~

~

~

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕~ @jakesullyfatjuicypeen , @r0y4lr3bl , @jojomoose22 (𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 @ 𝒊𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔--𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑽 ✧ 𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑽 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆!)

[trendywaifus]

Hello mako! This is for the weekly request, ZZZ. May I request reader trying to find out Qingyi's favourite tea, please?? With how much she likes teasing and pranks I'm sure she wouldn't say easily. Thaaanks!

hihi amu! i don’t know too much about qingyi since I sadly skipped her for zhu yuan. lemme know if I got things wrong !

“ captain zhu yuan, is this qingyi’s cup, right? “

you asked, walking into the break room, pointing down at the seemingly hot cup of tea. it looked bit darker than usual. well, a little too dark to be straight tea. zhu yuan gives you a confusing look as she puts some of her gear in her locker. “ yes it is, qingyi left for a bit—wh-what are you doing?! “

with nimble fingers, you take it upon yourself to bring the cup of “tea” to your lips and sipped on it.

“ bleh! “ you abruptly spit out the contents of the cup at the sudden bitter taste of black coffee. “ what the fu—excuse my professionalism, but why in the hell would she ever drink black coffee? does she even drink— oh. .wow. “

qingyi probably left this there unattended for someone like you to come along and drink it. like, has she ever left her precious tea sitting alone? why couldn’t she be normal and tell you her favorite tea? that damn geezer.

“ qingyi. “ you sat down besides the android 5 minutes before a special squad meeting. she hums, blowing steam away from her fresh, hot cup of tea.

“ yes? “

“ hurry, tell me what tea you’re drinking right now. “

she sighs, casually taking a long sip of her tea. “ why? do you want a cup? “

“ you—no, i don’t want a cup, i just want to know what kind of tea you’re drinking! “ you nearly whined, pouting.

“ how demanding. if you really want to know, young one, it’s green tea. “

“ but, is it your favorite though? “

zhu yuan walks into the room with a few folders tucked under her arms. your brow twitch with annoyance as qingyi takes her sweet time with answering your question. she hums thoughtfully, taking a another sip from her tea. “ qingyi, stop stalling and tell me—“

“ okay everyone, it’s almost time to start the meeting. “

“ DAMN IT! “ you shouted out of impulse and the room goes quiet, perplexed and amused stares locking onto you. embrassment swells in your belly and you sink into the chair.

“ and she’s not even telling me! she’s constantly ducking and dodging my questions, deliberately leaves her cups of “tea” behind, and then teases me like “ it is best to wait for an answer before demanding it, you youngsters are always so impatient nowadays. what if I can’t recall my favorite brand of tea? i’m quite old you know. “ you imitated her mannerisms to seth and sighed irritably.

“ erm, have you tried sitting down and drink tea with her to find out? “

“. . . “

“ hm, finally changed your approach? “ qingyi asks, a sliver of smugness in her voice as she prepares a pot of tea for you and her. you sighed with defeat, sitting back into the chair. “ yes. i’ve been impatient anyways right? i’ll wait for an answer over a cup of tea with you. “

she chuckles, pouring the pot’s contents into two separate cups and gently slide one towards you. “ pleasant to see you take heed to my advice for once. “

you open your mouth to throw a remark at her before closing it with a grumble. “ whatever. . “ she gently slides the cup to you. with a lingering gaze, you watch as qingyi blow away the steam from her cup and take a small sip. “ hot water cures impurities and is a remedy for many things humans get sick with. “

raising a brow, you avert your gaze down to the steaming cup of. .tea? its contents was clear as can be, making you question about what type of tea she brewed up. you hesitantly grab ahold of the cup and tipped it to your lips. you jump 2 feet into the air from your seat as the scorching water burns your poor tongue.

“ o-ouch! th-this is pure hot water! not tea! “

“ ding ding. “

[crguang]

Hello! May I have some fluffy yukong x reader with prompt 92 "My heart isn’t beating faster, my heart isn’t beating faster, I swear it isn’t, get ahold of yourself." I just miss the wife.......so much.......

im so happy this was requested man, yukong's one of my favorite characters of the game, i love her so much. i know that she's a serious woman and all but the thought of her being so unused to romantic affection that she turns into a school girl with a crush is just too cuteee

The days have been shorter for Yukong lately. Her memories have been forgiving, leaving behind a lingering sense of nostalgia that doesn’t pain her as much anymore instead of the constricting weight rooting her feet to the ground that makes her feel helpless. When she stands under the glaring sun, she’s in a cockpit again, enjoying the stars’ warmth from the quietude of space. She’s able to enjoy the feeling rather than have it be twisted by wistfulness, and the same can be said about the comfort of the nebulas. She often leaves the Palace of Astrum on her work breaks to immerse herself in them, her chin tilted to the heavens. While she will always long for the clouds, as they are part of her soul, most of her regrets seem to have melted. Her limbs are lighter, her breaths come easier. After Qingni enrolled as a fighter pilot, the burden of upholding Caiyi’s last wish was removed and, though she doesn’t see her daughter as often these days, less of her time is spent arguing with her about her ambitions. Yukong would gladly take the distance over Qingni’s puffed cheeks and furrowed brows if it meant bettering their relationship. Work also feels less stressful recently, she still has a mountain of duties to take care of each day and she can’t wait to retire, but the hours go by faster. The only issue is her productivity, it seems to have slowed in a noticeable manner over the past few months. She… is aware of the root of the problem, but hasn’t found a solution for her distracted mind yet.

Her head has joined her heart among the clouds and you are to blame. You, a known figure in the business world, who came to Starskiff Haven three months ago seeking to work with the Sky-Faring Commission. The small team of men and women you brought with you to aid you in this endeavor didn’t make a lasting impression on her, but you did. You discussed your proposal over friendly tea, just the both of you, to facilitate the conversation, and Yukong feels ridiculous admitting it but she has thought of you ever since. Your brilliant ideas, your ability to compromise in a way that minimizes losses for both parties, the insight you apply to most situations (your earnest smile, expressive eyes, the wind in your hair)— she’s noticed it all. It’s not unusual for her to gauge the people she’s doing business with, she owes it to the commission to make sure it thrives. It is surprising, however, how inspired she felt after your meeting. You have an air of assurance about you that makes others see you as trustworthy, an asset that will insure the best outcome for your partners.

A couple months later, and Yukong knows you’re not all show. You’ve kept good on your promises, sometimes exceeding what she previously negotiated for even without the insurance of turning a profit. Your business prowess is to be admired, for sure, but it’s not what she thinks about whenever she’s working through a pile of documents. The two of you have had several meetings following that first one, both with others present and alone, both of professional and casual nature. Her mind often wanders to the way you take your tea, excessively sweet, and how your hands move as you talk like instruments accompanying the melody of your voice. She can’t help but dwell on your enthusiasm as you converse with her, no matter the topic, it makes her feel listened to, like whatever she’s saying is relevant in your eyes. She can hear your laughter clearly, it’s high and closer to an amused  giggle, and it always reveals your upper teeth. The sound replays in her mind like a broken record she’s not interested in replacing. Her pulse picks up a pace, her teeth sink into the interior of her lip, she can’t see the document she’s supposed to be revising— 

Yukong looks up from her desk to see you having a discussion with one of her employees. The hand over your mouth fails to conceal your laughter while her secretary leans over her desk with a cheeky smile. She realizes that she was lost in thought just now, and that she wasn’t truly imagining the sound of your laugh, you’re actually here. She feels a touch less embarrassed. She looks back at the papers in front of her, tries to get back to work because your presence shouldn’t impede her job, but it’s useless. The pen in her hand is immobile, her ears twitch, straining to hear what has you so amused despite you being all the way to the front desk, and she’s annoyed by her own behavior. Seriously, what is she, a school girl? She’s way too old to be getting distracted by someone this young. 

She hears you coming before you even plant yourself in front of her desk. She raises her eyes to meet your warm gaze and the sight of your happy smile directly influences her heartbeat. 

“Good afternoon, Helm Master.”

Her title, Helm Master, sounds different in your mouth. She hears it every day but with you, it feels more like an endearing nickname than the proper way to address her.

“Good afternoon,” she replies, putting down her pen. “Are you here for something in particular?”

“Yes, in fact. This is around the time you take your daily break, right?”

Yukong blinks. She turns to glance at the clock on the wall to her right, then back at you. It’s almost 2 PM, so you’re correct. 

“It is. How do you know?”

You hold your hands behind your back and shrug with a smile. “Xikui told me. You have a very flirty secretary.”

Yukong chuckles softly. “I know. But she does her job well, so unless I hear any complaints, I don’t interfere in those kinds of things.”

“Oh, no, she’s very respectful, if only… a bit forward.”

Her mind goes back to the way you were laughing earlier and she can’t help wondering if you enjoyed the attention.

…Not that it’s any of her business.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat and change the subject, “I was in the neighborhood and thought it’d be nice to come and say hi. You’re always cooped up in this room… Now that I know you’re about to go on a break, maybe we could talk for a little while?”

“Oh.” Your consideration takes her by surprise. She has no reason to refuse your offer, nor does she want to. Something crawls in her stomach at the idea of you thinking of her as you go about your day, and she ignores it. “Yes, of course.”

You watch her close a couple of colorful folders and place them back on different piles. “Xikui says you like looking at the clouds. The sky is beautiful today, we should go do that.”

Xikui talks a bit too much about things she’s not paid for, it seems. Yukong stands from her chair, grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs. She never really got used to sitting around all day after being so active on the daily, which is why she cherishes the walks she takes around that time a lot. You follow next to her, a pep in your step, as she leads you out in the open and in front of the Palace of Astrum where she gets a wonderful view of the Jade Wheel in all its grandiosity. The familiar spot instantly puts her at ease and she briefly breathes in the fresh air with closed eyes. She’s meant to be outside, in open air with the breeze in her hair and on her cheeks. She takes her work seriously, though, so she’s content with simply allowing herself these moments of reprieve from the confines of the Palace. 

Her eyes blink open to find you looking at her. You’re leaning on the railing, chin in the palm of your hand, and staring at her with something unknown to her. There’s that smile at the corner of your lips like you’re aware of something she isn’t, yet she can’t find it in herself to be guarded. 

“What is it?” She asks.

“The sun rays are beautiful on you.”

You avert your gaze immediately after replying, eyebrow twitching, as if the words slipped out of your mouth before you could revise them. Yukong’s lips part in surprise at the unexpected compliment. She hears her heartbeat in her ears, unable to tear her eyes from your sheepish expression. The chatter of passersby and the general commotion are muted, she can only register the drumming of her heart— dum, dum, dum; your easy words freeze her where she stands and she becomes only refrain and replay. Though it’s been a while since she’s heard such genuine praise from another, she’s not the type to get embarrassed by simple flirting— are you… flirting?— being complimented by you somehow feels like she’s a young girl again, chasing after her best friend. She must look ridiculous after a moment passes and she still hasn’t said a word, but her mouth is dry and she finds herself not knowing how to respond, all her practiced diplomacy rendered useless. 

You seem to regain your composure because you meet her eyes once more and try to suppress a smile. “Ah, Helm Master, you’re blushing.”

Her fingertips rest on her cheek, feeling its warmth, and Yukong has to take a moment to clear her throat and busy her hands, finally looking past you at the far-away Jade Wheel instead. She cannot have been this flustered, and by just you saying she looks good in the sun, no less. She won’t accept it, how easily you turn back time and make her feel like she's someone who gets crushes. The mere notion is absurd. She has decades on you. You’re teasing her and she is absolutely not getting red in the face.

My heart isn’t beating faster, my heart isn’t beating faster, I swear it isn’t— 

“—Get a hold of yourself.”

She only realizes that she said the last part out loud when you blink and regret bends your lips downward. 

“Oh, I’m– I’m sorry,” you straighten up, glancing away from her for a few seconds. 

“No, I…” Yukong takes a shuddering breath and brings a hand to cover her eyes. “I apologize. That wasn’t directed at you.”

“You don’t have to reassure me, if you’re uncomfortable you should let me know. I won’t take offense.”

“I am not uncomfortable. You surprised me, that's all.” 

She hopes you can sense the sincerity in her tone. The last thing she wants is for things to grow awkward between you, you still have to work together after this and she hates the thought of you believing she doesn’t enjoy your company. Sure that her blood is no longer stored in the apple of her cheeks, she turns to face you again. You nod slowly and decide to let the matter go. Silence settles between you. You stare up at the nebulas she knows so well and her gaze is on the creases around your eyes, the lashes brushing your cheeks with every blink, the smooth curves of your lips. The minutes fly by, she ends up staying outside with you longer than the 30 minutes of reprieve she allows herself each day. When you bid her goodbye with a wave and a gentle smile, she’s lighter on her feet. The days have been shorter for her lately because your face lingers in her mind and her internal clock is attuned only to your proximity. One day, Yukong will admit that she’s falling in love for the second time in her life. Today, she’ll absentmindedly scribble your name in the top corner of a sheet she’ll discard right afterwards.

[nescaveckwriter]

Paintbrushes And Romance 🥰🐞 - Part 7

Dean x Reader

Part 7 🥰🐞

A/N: Can someone hand me a box of tissues please 🥹🥰🐞 Also side note, please comment down below and let me know what you think, if you wanna of course🥰🐞

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Sexual Content, Heartbreak, Kidnapping, Trigger Warnings🙈

.....

Seeing him, listening to the sound of his voice, broke you, I thought I was stronger that this. He is ordering his usual, black coffee. Acting like his presence doesn't bother you, you go on typing away, not that a single damn word is making sense, the tears, threatening to spill over, and give away, "your strong woman" act.

You can feel his eyes burning on you, while he steals a quick glance, you don't want to meet his eyes, so you'll just pretend to be busy, even though the only thing your busy with, is trying not to break down and cry in front of everyone.

I can't, I can't do this shit, you say underneath your breath, you quickly pack everything up, put a few dollars down for the coffee, you notice, you didn't even touch the piece of chocolate mousse cake, Julie gave you! Eversince that day, you haven't had much of an appetite, not even for dessert.

Just waving, while running out the shop, unsure to where you want to go, honestly unsure of what to do with yourself, with your life without him , hell! tell me how did I turn into this person, to the woman who needs a man, not just any man but Dean Winchester! Tears streaming freely now, I've never in my life felt sadness that cuts this deep, leaving my damn heart in a thousand shreds. I should hate him, but oh how I love him.

.....

Showing up at your mom's house, she barely opened the door, when you knocked, you grab ahold of her in a heartbreaking way, sobs into her arms, mom tell me, please how do I let this pain go away, how do I forget about him, how do I move on when my heart is so torn apart, when all I want to do is run into his arms, searching for the comfort I always found there, tell me mom!, you say, tears making your mom's, brightly flowered shirt wet.

Oh honey, taking her fingers, trying to rub the tears away, only time will tell, my sweet girl. Mom, I don't want time to tell, I just want time to be turned back, back to when he loved me, when I was enough to make him happy, I just want him mom, with me, holding me, is that to much to ask for, your voice breaking now, is it mom?, I am not a bad person am I? Can't I just be really happy for once? Don't I deserve it mom?

Oh bug, you are breaking my heart, seeing you like this, I wish I could just bandage your heart together, make everything better, but I can't, not this time, but I'll tell you what, sweetie, let me make us some of that chamomile tea you like so much, then we can just sit and talk, or cry, or be in total silence, just what you need honey. Forming a little smile on your lips, that sounds nice thanks mom, we can talk, but not about this , anything else will do.

Sweet, soft smile coming from your moms lips, okay honey, did you hear about Mrs, Anderson, throwing lemonade, at Mrs Morgan, for stealing some of her flowers....

...

The two of you, spend the afternoon just talking about, light-hearted, topics, and also of course the surprise birthday party for the weekend for your dearest brother, oh how deeply you love him, the two of you are really close, but he is always away on business trips, so you kind of lost touch, but this weekend is all about catching up.

....

Giving your mom, one big heartfelt hug, I'll see you and daddy tonight, for dinner, you say while starting to walk towards the street, where you get into the cab, giving them your address, you need to freshen up for the free art classes you give for the kids at the church, you also need to try and cover up your swollen eyes. Your not much for makeup, you prefer just a little bit of mascara really, but you have a trick or two up your sleeve.

Arriving at your little house, which doesn't really feel the same anymore, it doesn't feel like a home without him, damnit escapes your lips, while throwing your keys on the kitchen countertop.

Just standing in the shower, while the hot water is running down your body, all you can think of, is the way he'd looked this morning, as if something is weighing, heavily on his shoulders, maybe he misses you, the thought enters your mind, you could've sworn your heart just skipped a beat, but you just suppress that little excitement of just maybe he feels the same. Getting out, the shower, grabbing the nearest towel, wrapping it tightly around your body.

Walking to your dresser, opting out for a pair of dark blue jeans, and a plain black t-shirt, with your favourite pair of flat black boots, before closing the dresser, is when you spot it, he's favourite red flannel shirt you stole, to wear whenever you'll just be lounging around the house, taking the shirt, holding it closely to your beating heart, breathing in, the woody musky scent coming, from the shirt holding too much memories.

A little tear escaping and rolling over your cheek. Throwing it back into the closet, like it's the shirt's fault, you turn around to your mirror so that you can put on some makeup and get your hair done, deciding that you'll be going for the loosely braided hair you like so much.

You were just about done, when you hear your phone receiving a message, its from Eileen, "Hey sweetie, how are you doing? Listen you and me, we are going out for a girls night tomorrow, Sam's working late again so it's you and me, painting this town red, okay no excuses.!" A little smile forming across your lips, honestly you don't feel much like going out, but maybe she needs it just as much as you do. Texting her back , yeah hun let's do it , sounds like fun. I'll bring the red paint, with a laughing emoji, and some hugs and kisses you send the message.

Getting out the cab at church, grabbing your art supplies, walking towards the big welcoming doors, you breathe in, let's do this, you put on a big smile, hoping it'll take away the sadness in your eyes.

......

Okay kids that's it for tonight, I'll see you again on Friday, and remember, there is no right or wrong when it comes to art, just let your heart do the talking, each of the kids between the ages of seven and thirteen, comes to give you a hug, before heading out, oh you truly loved every one so much.

Last little girl, named Tiffany to give you a hug, come running up to you , she's 7 and has so much potential of being an artist one day, hugging you, looking you in the eyes with her big brown eyes, asking you when is uncle Dean coming to visit again. You just hug her tightly and say, not sure honey, he is very busy at work, oh okay, she says, I miss him, have to go now... Love you, bye, she goes running off!

Oh that little one, has no idea, what she's done, sitting down, with your hands covering your face trying, to be strong, trying to fight back the heartbreak, from damming up in your eyes, you feel a hand firmly, but softly resting on your shoulder, turning around to see Pastor Cas, hi, Pastor you said trying to hide the pain in your voice.

Are you okay, concern on his face, I will listen if you wanted to talk. Thank you Pastor, but is fine, I'll get better eventually, you say while getting up from your sitting position, gathering all the art supplies, you hear Pastor Cas say, I'm really here if you need to talk, and I know about you and Dean, I found him one night sitting in this same room, I think he came, here quite often when you weren't here, he told me the two of you broke up, I'm sorry to hear that he said empathy in his voice.

Damnit! You said underneath your breath, how can I tell Cas, how much I despise and love his best friend, strangely enough the two of them just connected, Dean started to show up at the art classes you gave, to see you, in your element he said, with that mischievous smile of his!

The kids quickly started to love him, as he would get on all fours and give them little horseback rides, one by one, while you were busy teaching the class, he and Cas would stand outside to talk and laugh. Dean would always tell you, that they're like brothers even though there so different.

I'm really fine you said quickly glancing at him, seeing the concern in his face. You're my friend too, he said. I know, but I'm fine, I really need to go, I have dinner with my parents tonight you said, with a smile barely tugging at your lips. Oh, okay, you should enjoy it he said smiling, coming closer and giving you a little hug.

Enjoy your evening Cas, you said while walking outside, waiting for a cab to pick you up. You could drive yourself, but preferred using the taxi services, one of the reasons being your not very good with directions and of course the other one is, its just much more fun sitting in the back taking in the view, of the places you've seen so many times before, but there's so many details and little miracle's that could be easily taken for granted! Oh very artsy of me, you say to yourself, a smile creeping on your lips!

You wave the taxi down, smiling while getting in, your eyes meeting his, he quickly looks away. Giving him the address, you just sit there in silence, admiring the stars and moon shining so brightly, a big dark cloud, hiding the stars all of the sudden.

You should be at your parents house by now! Looking at the street sign, seeing its he's going the wrong way.

Excuse me sir, you tap him on the shoulder, your going the wrong way, he turns to face you, his eyes as cold as breeze seeping through the window.

Sit back in your seat missy, I'm going the right way, his voice, sounding kind of raspy and mocking. So you adjust back in the seat, taking out your phone, knowing something is wrong you start typing away, the look he gives you in the mirror sends chills down your spine. It's him, the serial killer - Dean's been hunting.

Swallowing away the tightness in your chest, your fingers typing the words , "its the serial killer" before you could type, I love you mom, the car comes to a stop.

Breathing heavily you know its now or never, still holding you cell in your hand, you see him walking to the side of your door, turning slightly in your seat, your feet pointing at the door, he pulls it open, give me your damn phone he angrily says. That's when you gave it your all, you kicked him with both feet, and while he stuttering backwards, you turn around on your hands and feet, quickly crawling to the other side of the seat so that you can get away, your hand touching the door handle, almost there, biting your lip, ahhhhh! A scream escapes your lips, his pulling you out of the car by your ankles, trying to grab onto everything you can find, but there's nothing.

You feel the dirt and rocks underneath your arms, scraping the skin, trying to find a way of getting away from his tight grip, stil squirming he grabs your hair, that's when you feel it, a pinch, almost mosquito bite like, into your neck, night, night, you little shit, you hear his voice, sounding very pleased with himself.

You can feel it starting to take affect, did I send the text, you wondered, tears staining your face, the darkness came over you despite the moon shining so brightly.

[somewherebetweendisorder]

Cold Brew Love

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

A cofee shop AU

Warnings: angst, fluff, eventual smut

~~~

The lock slides home with a satisfying click, signaling the end of Eddie's day. He loves the bar, coated in water to slide drinks easier, the music, crackling through the ancient speakers, and most of the patrons. He likes them better when they're heading out for the night. The sound of glass on glass when the guys at the bar are toasting another weekend, the chorus of playful jeers when Mr. Birkman buys another round of shots that he can't afford. But when the day is done, there's nothing better than locking up and going home.

The air has shifted, the last remnants of September bleeding out into a cool October, leaves falling in fiery waves from the trees. His jacket vest combo is feeling a bit too thin, a bit too worn to fend off the chill, and he shivers against the autumn wind. Maybe he should grab a box of hot chocolate mix or something.

He slides into the van, wishing the heater worked better, wishing he could afford to fix it. It'll have to do until the next paycheck. That could be a gamble, knowing how cold it gets overnight, the new touch of frost lingering even in the sun. Driving slow, he debates a single cup of hot chocolate or a box of packets.

"They'll probably be the same price," he mumbles as he glances at the coffee shop to his left. It's the only place in Hawkins that sells just coffee, boasting the best cup in town, and Eddie avoids it like the plague.

He wouldn't stop; he swears to himself he wouldn't stop if he wasn't suddenly looking at the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Baggy jeans with battered Vans and a smile brighter than the dawn breaking over Hawkins. Hair loose, wind-whipped, and shining in the raw sunlight, you're taking orders in the line, moving from car to car with more poise than he's ever witnessed in one person, like a dancer.

That's all he needs to make a sharp left into the parking lot and pull in behind the other waiting cars, more eager to see you closer than he is for the hot coco he had been fantasizing about. The line creeps forward, agonizingly slow, but before he has a chance to gather himself, you're bounding up to his window with a cheerful grin and a perky, "What can I get you today?"

He freezes, words dying on the tip of his tongue, thoughts crashing together in a useless, messy heap. Hawkins is far from a large town. How has he never seen you before?

"Uh, do you have- Do you have hot chocolate?"

You grimace, frowning apologetically before you even speak.

"We do not, I'm sorry. It's obscene, really, but my boss doesn't take suggestions, so coffee and tea it is. Either of those sound good?"

Eddie shakes his head while speaking. "Yeah. Just- A small black coffee is fine. Thanks."

You seem unfazed by his behavior, tapping away at the tablet in your hands. "Okay, sweet. And can I get a name for the order?"

"Um, yeah, 'course. It's, uh, Eddie. With two d's."

"Eddie with two d's. Alright, they'll have your order ready at the window, Eddie."

He wants to stop you as you walk away, moving to the car behind his, wants to ask your name, but he's caught on the way you spoke his, saccharine and light like you weren't tilting his world upside down with those eyes and that smile.

"Get ahold of yourself, man."

The window slides open the moment he gets to it, a small paper cup shoved into his partially outstretched hand. It's hot, almost too hot to hold and he scoops the receipts and change out of his seldom-used cup holder frantically so he can set the cup down.

He doesn't spare a glance at the girl behind the window as he mumbles a thank you, doesn't really care if it's not you. A perfect stranger in every right, but he wants more. Feels like somehow he's seen you before. God, he must know you from a past life. What else could it be?

As he pulls away he chances a sip of the coffee. It's as bad as he remembers, searing his tongue, almost sludge-like in consistency. Setting the cup down he sighs, shaking his head. Still worth it. Of course, it was worth it.

The moment his van door jerks open with a loud creak he's popping the lid off the cup, pouring the drink out into the dry grass bordering the Munson drive.

~

"Well?"

"Well, what?" You turn to Krista as she hands out a cup of tea to a customer, never knowing where she's actually taking a conversation.

"That guy was cute."

You crane your head to see out the window, taking in the dark blue truck that you see come through regularly. "Wasn't that-?"

"Not him, the guy earlier. Eddie. The guy with the curls."

"Oh. Oh. That guy."

You saw him. Really saw him from his chipped black polish, contrasting the silver of his rings as his fingers drummed a nervous staccato beat against the steering wheel. The steering wheel that was peeling at the top, leather flaking away from the seam. His brown eyes were wide, almost too big for his face, looking anywhere but at you as he spoke. He would be impossible to ignore.

Not that you'd been here long, maybe two months, but most were regulars, ordering the same thing day in and day out thanks to small-town habits. You could relate to that, the familiarity of routine. The move had turned your world upside down, shaking up everything you knew and dropping you in Hawkins of all places. And you'd definitely never seen that guy before. Eddie. The name suited him, seemed to fit his cupid's bow and gangly frame just right.

"Yeah, that guy. What'd you think?"

"Um." What sort of question was that? How could you even answer? He seemed to be your type right down to his little flock of bats, but Krista talked too much, and really, it would be more fun to think of him without having to play twenty-one questions with her over your thoughts about a stranger.

"I don't even know him. How could I have an answer."

She laughs, shaking her head as though something about your dismissal of her question is funny. She laughs like she knows something, and it irritates you. Moving away you drop a dirty shot tin into the sink, watching it slowly fill with sudsy water, sinking to the bottom with a soft clink against the enamel.

~

Eddie is not a coffee person. He'd watched Wayne drink it every morning for years, sighing after the first sip, face bathed in steam from the freshly brewed cup. When Eddie worked up the courage to try it, he poured a full cup, eager to prove a point. His first sip was hot, searing his tongue, bitter as if he were drinking charcoal. Topping it off with milk or stirring in spoonfuls of sugar never made it better; it just tasted bad.

He preferred his brew, cold and malty, on draft at the bar. So why was he once again in the drive-thru of the only coffee shop in Hawkins, eagerly anticipating you opening the window to hand him the cup of black sludge he wasn't going to drink?

God, would you even be at the window? Yesterday you had been outside, but today he's the only one here, crawling out of the bar a bit later than usual.

The thin panel slides open with a squeak, revealing you, fresh-faced, hair pulled back, a few loose strands framing your face sweetly. You smile at the sight of him, eyes crinkling around the corners, making his long night worth it, nearly convincing him he should just drink the damn coffee today, instead of pouring it out.

"Hi, there! Back for more of Hawkins's best coffee?"

Eddie desperately wants to smile, offer a witty reply, with a cool practiced tone, as if he talks to pretty girls all the time. Like the nymphs in the woods come to visit when he makes his way out to his old table in the woods.

But as usual, he's speaking before he can really think it through, words tripping into each other, pitching off his tongue clumsily, cheeks tinting a faint pink.

"How'd you guess?"

Maybe it's not the worst thing he could have said. You giggle softly, turning to pour his cup of coffee, shaking your head a bit.

"Mm, I dunno. Guess I'm hoping we haven't lost the monopoly on the Hawkins' coffee market since yesterday. Offers me some job security."

It's a weird response, long, and over-indulgent like you're humoring him. The way you say it, clearly, quietly, almost like you're knee-deep in sharing a secret, voice ringing with sincerity has him pausing with his fingers outstretched for the cup. For a moment, he's not sure how to react. Does he love this, or hate it? Are you playing along out of pity?

You look up, meeting him in the void between the drive-thru window and his waiting hand, fingers brushing his palm, sending a wave of heat through him, goosebumps erupting across his arms, skin tingling like he was shocked by a live wire.

"Oh yeah, that's a real concern in this town. Better make sure no one sneaks off with the secret recipe."

"Don't worry. If anyone did, it would be me." You say it lightly, winking as you drag your hand away from his, lips twisted up into a jovial grin.

"Smart girl."

The car behind Eddie honks, loud and long, tired of waiting for him to pull forward.

"Sorry," Eddie begins, hastily setting his cup down, dark liquid sloshing out, spilling over his hand. "Fuck. Sorry! Didn't realize anyone was behind me. I'll um- I'll see ya later."

He's pulling away before you can say anything, your balmy laugh chasing him, treacly and soft.

He'll go back tomorrow. He knows he will, even as he pours another wasted cup into the Munson yard.

~

"Hey Pam, we're out of cream and green tea bags."

Your boss looks up from her phone, glasses perched on the end of her nose, blinking slowly as she processes your words. "Cross 'em off on the menu."

She's looking back at her phone, an obvious dismissal, abundantly clear after the last time you asked her to restock before her usual shopping day. Nodding to yourself you step away, moving back to the small prep area, snatching the nearly empty tip jar off the window ledge.

"Krista, wanna go grab cream and tea at the store?"

She watches you count the change out on the sticky countertop, neatly stacking the change and uncrinkling the bills.

"That's not gonna be enough, Miss Overachiever."

You look up, fingers curling tightly around the bill you had just been dutifully smoothing out. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Once, twice, three times.

"I'm aware. Just trying to figure out how much extra I need to give you."

Before you can finish she's pushing her way in, sliding the coins off the counter into her palm, crumpling the few bills again as she shoves them into her pocket.

"You're pathetic, spending money on a job that pays fuckin' peanuts. It's gonna cost at least another five. I'm only going because I love you so much."

"What would I do without you?" You pull out the neatly folded money in your back pocket, all you had for lunch, and pass it over.

She's breezing out the front door, the bell jingling, giving you away. Thankfully you weren't trying to keep this on the down low. Sagging against the cool metal work table you plant your hands on the edge, wincing when your palm lands in a tacky, half-dry puddle of cream. God, this job.

Small towns don't lend many options, but surely there's someplace better than this. Peeking through the narrow window you take in the strip across from the shop, small businesses just opening for the day.

Your eyes catch on the LED signs lining the record store's windows. That could be promising, music has always been an easy escape, a world to disappear into. It couldn't hurt to stop by, ask around, see if you can convince them they need two more hands to stock shelves. Any more time here and you might end up in trouble like before. A change might be good, sooner rather than later. 

~

"Alright, I've clocked out and wiped everything down for the night. You need anything else before I go?"

Pam doesn't look up, shuffling papers around on her cluttered desk, grunting in response. It's infuriating, the slight grating across your skin, itchy and hot. Why does she behave like this? Does it make her somehow feel better, powerful? You've worked with coffee before, it's the only reason she hired you, so why now are you so beneath her?

Taking this as your cue to go, you pivot on your heel, following the short hallway, shoving open the door with a stiff arm, enjoying the way it slams harshly as you exit. Maybe it's juvenile; hell, you know it is. But it feels nice.

The neon lights across the street call to you, orange and yellow and pink, promising something to ease the pain, a balm for another shift wasted. You start to cross the street, remembering to look for oncoming traffic at the last second, Docs scuffing harshly against the curb. You lick your thumb, bend over, try to soothe the rough patch away in vain. It's a tiny thing, the mark, the curb, the day in general, but suddenly everything is an avalanche. Teeth clenched so tight a sharp pain worms its way through your jaw, you straighten, growling out a repressed scream, nails biting into the delicate flesh of your palms.

Sky dark, sun dipping low as the peachy gray smear of dusk fades, you step out into the street, skirting a pothole, shoving your fisted hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. Ten more steps and you'll be crossing into warmth and a universal familiarity. Five more steps and the music will touch you, pick up the pieces of this day. Three steps and your fingers will be curling around the frigid handle of the door. Two steps, one, and then sanctuary.

Chimes above the door jingle softly, calling attention to your presence as you try to slip in unnoticed. The carpet is thin, rough, scraping against the worn soles of your shoes, hues of purple and blue rippling away from your feet in odd geometric patterns.

The store smells musty, an old, lingering smell, like it's never really been cleaned well permeates that air, mingles with the low sounds of guitar and bass trickling through the speakers around the store. Records are stacked neatly on the counter, high enough to hide whoever is working the register, business cards spilling across the surface that vinyl isn't occupying. The shelves are filled, new and used, categorized by genre, then alphabetized.

The general organization of it all had your toes curling in a simple sort of pleasure as you make your way deeper into the store, allowing your fingertips to brush along the faces of a few covers, smiling when you find one of your favorites.

Near the back of the space, the light dims, a small stage and seating area nearly concealed by the shelves and racks of records and vintage stereo and photography equipment. It's an odd assortment, none of it really cohesive, yet it fits all the same.

"Ten minutes 'til close!"

You jump, startled, turning to face the front. The counter is blocked from view, and you wonder if it is a general announcement or if you are expected to answer. All that's left to look at is a thin rotating rack with a hand-drawn sign above it that reads "Local Talent".

A cover catches your attention, crudely drawn, but with intent, with care, like the artist wanted nothing more than to see their vision to life by any means. The edges look burned intentionally, the design lingering with you, preventing you from skipping over it.

"Corroded Coffin," you whisper to yourself, fingers curling over the edge, tipping it toward you as though it's fragile, some great epiphany hiding just behind it. Nothing jumps out, nothing feels different as you flip the CD over, reading the song titles, feeling some odd sense of kinship forming with the mind behind these songs. You haven't even listened to it yet, and it's speaking to you like this, one of those instincts. When you know, you know.

Stepping away from the stand you hold the case close to your chest, protective, or using it as a shield from what you don't know, but it remains there until you get back to the front. The case hits the counter with a muted tap, cheap green laminate an ugly backsplash.

The man behind the counter is older, thick-framed glasses drawing your attention to the pale blue eyes that skirt over you, uninterested, assessing, quickly drawing judgment; you don't belong here. A beat passes before he reaches for the item you set down, scanning it and placing it in a bag.

"That'll be $12.97."

"Sure thing. Here ya go," you extend your hand, credit card dangling between limp fingers, confidence long gone, eager to run away. "It's um- This is a really nice shop."

"Thanks."

That's it. He passes your card back with the bag, not even looking at you, as dismissive as Pam. And it's even worse the second time around, bile churning in the pit of your stomach, inching up your throat, fingers twitching with anger, jaw ticking.

"Listen, actually, I came over to see if you need any help. Part-time, or full-time. I can stock, clean, run the register. I work at the coffee shop right over there." You pause to gesture uselessly, fingers curling into a fist mid-air. "I'm a hard worker. And I know music."

He does look at you now as you deflate, burst of esteem withering like a flower without sunlight, hungry and dying, crawling in on yourself. His face is riddled with doubt, lips twisted up like he smells something rotten, putrid, and noxious.

"We're not hiring right now, sorry."

He doesn't look very sorry as he shifts, getting to his feet, reaching for the keys at his belt pointedly.

"Okay. Thank you for your time."

The bells rattle again, far less cheery this time around, the sound is monotonous, hollow. As the metal door thuds closed behind you you shake your head, trying to dislodge the thoughts clawing their way up in your mind, decomposing figures breaking through the soil, ready to torment, ready to hurt. You just need it all to be quiet.

Jogging back across the road you pull out your keys and unlock your car, all but falling into the seat, unable to relax but dissolving into the worn fabric all the same. Assholes, all of them. Your fingers flex, squishing against firm plastic, reminding you of the new treasure clutched tightly in your hands. Tearing off the cellophane, crinkling it loudly in the stale air lingering in your car. The CD slides in, a soft whir as it begins to play, deep bass beginning to leak through the speakers, the ones that still work anyway.

It's real, the music, every note hitting some tattered cord within you, licking the pain away, replacing it with some small measure of relief. You can't help the smile playing on your lips, barely there, but there all the same as you slam the gear shift into drive. Apparently, not everything in this town sucks. 

[ohmystarrynight]

The Miller Farm in June

There is no progress without fear! No growth without discomfort! Being so brave and sharing my writing even if it makes me writhe in agony :) enjoy the little blurb/snippets about my oc below the cut if u want ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Cassius lay in bed, thoughts continuing to swirl around in his head as he drifted between sleep and wake. It was a blissfully peaceful state he hardly found himself in. That is, until this summer began.

There was always a gnawing sense of dread or impending doom to be felt with his line of work, an unrelenting knot in his stomach and a racing mind that couldn’t be silenced. Everyone was always out for blood, or revenge or god knows what else. But here…

Here, time was slowed, as if in its own little bubble. It was safe from anything and everything outside of it, untouchable. Here, his work couldn’t possibly interfere. Here, he could breathe.

Clark had made him feel incredibly welcome from the very beginning, of course. Nothing, however, could have prepared Cass for the days after that first semester; of their first meeting. Never before had he laughed so much, nor had he ever truly, properly relaxed. Not once, in his twenty-one years on earth, had he expected anything Clark had in store.

Not the malt shop, not the carnival. Not the cruises in Clark’s truck with Elvis Presley and Patsy Cline and Doris Day and Johnny Mathis coming through a staticky station. No, not a force on earth could have prepared him for the accidental grazes of their hands, nor their proximity when they sat on the tailgate sipping sweet tea, leaving no space between each other. All too often Cassius found himself thinking -more than he should- of the way the summer heat would leave their thighs stuck and faces flushed. The way they would bump together while Clark mindlessly swung his feet as they talked for hours. Or even of the feeling that shot through him the first time Clark had yanked him into an exuberant embrace while he cheered about something on the television. They were watching The Lone Ranger… or something along those lines… Cass could hardly care to recall. The rest of that night was spent staring at his ceiling gnawing on his lip while his heart hammered against his chest. Though he wondered how many of those times were just the sweat and the heat and how much of it really was…. Regardless, the suspense to follow in wake of these ‘accidents’ left Cass reeling. Each night would end the same way, with confusion, fear and guilt writhing and churning and fighting for dominance until he could finally persuade sleep to take over. It wasn’t always just those three, though. Sometimes fondness and warmth joined the mix, along with curiosity and a fascination with it all, which really only lead to confusion again. The cycle continues. Before this summer, if someone had told him any of this would happen, he would have thought them insane. Because for him to have a life like that, well, that sounded a lot like having a home.



Home.

He supposed he did rather think of this place like home. He’d never had a home before, nor a friend, but he could tell Clark was a good one. All because…

Well, because he feels like home.

Cass’s eyes snapped open.

Home??

His heart raced as icy panic shot up his spine, tensing every muscle he had.

You know damned well why this cannot be home. Get ahold of yourself.

What was he doing? What was he thinking? He wasn’t sure what terrified him more: the risks Clark and his mother unknowingly took by insisting he stay with them during the summer, or how easily he gave in to them. Was it all that tempting?

Surely, his will was stronger than a few pleas? An offer of a place to sleep and home-cooked meals?

Stronger surely, than all those hot days spent swimming with Clark in the lake.

Or than the nights spent in the back of his truck bed watching fireflies dance and stars twinkle while crickets and peepers and owls sang their serenades in competition with the radio.

Incredibly selfish. The very idea- the danger you’ve already put them in… that you continue to put them in, every day you spend here!

Cassius ran his shaking hands over his face, scrubbing away whatever lingering feeling of sleep his sudden anxiety neglected. He tossed the covers back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The alluring temptation to lay down again almost instantly beckoned him. To simply put his head back on the pillow and be welcomed once more by the serene dreamlike trance he was in just moments earlier. To hell with the day, to hell with this sudden anxiety.

But no.

Opting instead to stand, to somewhat clumsily make his way to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face, Cass pushed the panic and guilt back down inside his chest, somewhere deep and far enough away to allow for a halfway decent rest of his day. It could churn and writhe as much as it would like when he tried to find sleep again later. For now, he was completely. Fine. He owed them that much at minimum.

Clark was a bit more perceptive than Cass really liked, but he would never push Cass into an explanation. That much he could appreciate. But Clark’s mother was a force to be reckoned with. Her radar was truly the most fine-tuned instrument of empathy Cassius had ever encountered, (must be one of those ‘motherly’ things) and he’ll be damned if he gave it any reason to go off. Their generosity and hospitality, their kindness; it was already more than he could afford. There was no need to worry them.

Surely, any threat would have presented itself by now? Wishful thinking, Cass knew, but it was the only thought keeping him from losing it completely, or from up and leaving in the dead of night to lure any impending danger away from his beloved little ‘family’. It wouldn’t be hard to do, of course. And he’d, of course, have no trouble at all leaving any of this behind. The thought of his other life colliding with his new one was just as nauseating as it was dangerous.

Family?

Was that how he thought of them? Who was he kidding? What on god’s green earth had he gotten himself into?

So to the thought he clung, with all of his confusion and guilt and fascination and hope attached. Desperately. Needily.

Selfishly.

[the-spam-specialist]

Chip was in an absolute state. Bawling his little heart out despite Notch and Harper's efforts to calm him. His crying caught the attention of two other little Pokémon who went to investigate what was going on. But Zander had called them over asking for their help "come on you two. I know what might do the trick". The two little knights did as asked and went into the kitchen.

Chip continued to try and get ahold of his emotions but couldn't. He paused briefly when Harper gently wiped his tears away. He sniffled as he gingerly raised his arm and held on to Harper weakly. It didn't take long for his emotions to bubble over again and start crying.

He'd try to regain his composure again and again. Only to start crying yet again. Moments later Ceru and Arma would join them, carrying a tin of biscuits and a tray full of cakes respectively. Ceru put the tin down and immediately ran, and promptly falling over, to hug Notch. Following the two knights was none other than the idiot redhead Zander! Carrying a tray with teapot and freshly made tea.

"Needing a good cry there Chip?" He asked while setting the tray down and preparing him a sippy cup of sweet tea before handing it over. " There ya go, now you go and have yourself a good cry. Get it out of your system". Zander offered tea everyone else before hobbling over to sit down on.

"my old Nana did this whenever I was needing a good cry. ' nought fixes crying like a good cuppa and bickies ' she used tae say.... Lord I really have turned into me Nana... Anyway help ya selves! The cake was made by the best chefs in the house here!" This prompted Arma to get all flustered and a confident chirp from Ceru, who was especially happy to see Notch again.

"Cewafedge!".

Skylertheminish.

Harper felt tense as Zander, Ceru, and Arma entered the room. They feared their presence would spook Chip away. But they were surprised when Chip stayed where he was. They used their shirt to wipe Chip's tear-stained face and handed him to Notch.

"Better not let Bandit catch you doing all this walking around and carrying stuff," Harper said, watching Zander hobble about. They smirked at him, "Then again, it's me you should be afraid of. I'll be carrying you to the couch after this. Don't try to escape, we both know you can't outrun me."

Meanwhile, Notch beckoned Arma and Ceru over, introducing Chip to his fellow housemates.

"Chip, this is Ceru and Arma. They're the other two rescues that live here! They're under Zander's care, just like you!"

Or as he had heard Chip call him the idiot redhead. Hopefully Chip would change his tune about Zander eventually.

"Arma is really smart and really loves baking. And Ceru..." in the excitement of seeing Notch again, Ceru had started chewing on Notch's boot, making the bigger knight chuckle awkwardly, "well, she has her own fun quirks."

[lacteawhy]

You hear a persistent knock on your door. You quickly rush to check who's there.

-Dar!

-*hello, hayati~*

Dar is standing in the doorframe, smiling at you with a silly smile. Yeaah, seems like he's a bit drunk...he instantly starts hugging and kissing your neck.

-woah woah! Big guy, calm down- oh, hey.. Salim?

Salim was standing behind Dar this whole time..he's not exactly sober himself but has a better control of his movements, that's for sure..

-hello there.. I'm sorry, he dragged me here. He really wanted to see you.

-want to come in..?

You say trying to push Dar off of you.

-sure uugh do you need some help? *Captain, get ahold of yourself!*

He grabs Dar's shoulders and starts pulling him.

-*hey, Salim! Leave me be with my angel!*

-are you okay? Don't argue please..

You look at Salim for some explanation.

-it's fine, he had too much alcohol. *Dar, stop it. You'll scare her with your behavior.*

Dar looks at you for a moment, gives you a little kiss on the cheek and steps back. Then gives Salim a death stare.

-want some..tea maybe? Gotta wash out that alcohol somehow

-yes please

-does Dar..?

-he'll also have some.

-*what's going on?*

-*you're going to drink tea.*

-*who said I want tea?*

-*what DO you want??*

Dar looks at you, giggling. Salim pushes him in the shoulder. Dar smiles at him, playing with his eyebrows. You blush a little, not understanding what the hell is going on but you get Dar's attention, I guess?

-*can you behave for once when we visit her together??*

-*Salim, look at her, how am I supposed to behave?*

-soo...

You break their intense dialogue.

-tea...?

Salim tightly holds Basri's shoulder.

-yes. We BOTH-

He looks at Dar.

--would love it.

Dar pushes Salim's hand off of himself and then speaks strictly.

-*Salim, close the door.*

-*what*

-*the entrance door. Close it*

Salim slowly turns around to close the door, he's clearly not happy with Dar commanding again, as if Salim haven't heard that the whole past week. He sighs, closes the door and turns around just to see how Dar is pinning you to a wall, frenching.

-*Dar!*

Dar roughly breaks the kiss

-*Salim, you're either IN or OUT! Go drink your tea somewhere else.*

Salim roles his eyes.

-Salim..? I'm sorry, you know how he is..

-he..

He looks down

-am I allowed to join?

He gives you an awkward smile.

-wh-

You look at Dar for a moment, then back at Salim.

-sure...?

Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Dar looks at slowly approaching Salim. Their eyes meet for a moment.

-thank you, habibi..

Salim leans in for a kiss with you, Dar smirks.

-*good choice, Salim*

You feel Salim's gentle lips studying yours. After Dar he feels so nice and soft..respectful even. Dar is being patient, looking carefully at you two. His hand is caressing your hip.

-*you won't get another chance, Salim, enjoy it while it lasts*

Salim murmurs into the kiss

-*as long as you're sober that is*

Dar playfully pushes Salim with his elbow

-*careful with the words here!*

Salim continues to kiss you, while you put your hand on Dar's cheek, to which he snuggles like a kitten

-*ma atyaback..*

Dar whispers in half breath. Salim smiles to his words. He's never thought to hear his strict captain say sweet words of love to someone.

Suddenly Dar grabs your thighs and picks you up, breaking your kiss. You grab his shoulders, meeting his eyes with yours.

-*share some of those beautiful lips with me, my angel*

You were about to look at Salim but Dar distracted you by kissing your lips abruptly. He roughly moved towards your neck.

-Salim..

You say softly, making Dar look at you with surprise. Now why would you call Salim when HE is kissing you.. you smile at Dar's reaction.

-Salim, tell him that we should get somewhere more comfortable..

Dar's eyes shift to Salim.

-*let's go, your angel wants to get more comfortable!*

He pats Dar's arm and moves through the corridor looking for the bedroom. He gives Dar a sign to follow him and Dar carefully takes you to the room, almost without breaking the eye contact.

-*Salim, sit down on the bed*

Dar orders. Salim obediently follows his words.

-*get comfortable, soldier, you're the guest today!*

Dar looks at Salim playfully as he sits down next to him, with you in his arms. Captain Basri gets a good look at you.

-*my beautiful thing..hate to see you with another man but we need to show Salim what a lucky man I am*

He looks at Salim.

-*what are you waiting for? Pants off!*

Salim chuckles and unzips his pants, making you impudently stare. He looks at you with his puppy eyes and a side smile.

-didn't think you'd be so eager to see it!

-oh, I-

You shift your eyes to Dar, making him laugh. He grabs your chin and makes you face Salim's crotch. Your eyes wobble a bit. Awkward.. suddenly Dar moves his hand and starts pushing you towards Salim's dick. You follow his rules. You end up laying on your stomach, your head is next to Salim's cock, your ass facing up on Dar's knees, which makes him bite his lip. That damn ass and tiddie lover. You feel how he eagerly takes off your pants and underwear with one hand and the other instantly grabs you. You love feeling his hands on you.. your hand reaches for Salim's dick, starting to slowly stroke it. Dar grunts quietly.

-*that's right, make him feel good, my angel..*

Salim looks at Dar for a second, then at you. You look so eager to take him.. you lips gently press against his tip. Goosebumps hit the poor guy. You barely suck it and he already grips into the bedsheets.

-oh..that's a good girl..habibi

Your hot tongue circles around the tip, as you feel Dar's hands making themselves at home. He slides his fingers along your spine, the other hand gets in between your legs.

-*Salim, she's so wet, I'd slide my tongue right inside her..*

Salim blushes, looking at Dar.

-*ah, just listen to her..*

He slides his thumb in, making you moan. His fingers rubbing against your clit.

-*you should hear her moans when I fuck her with my hard dick.. she's such a good obedient girl, deserves to get some treat..*

-*Dar, please!*

Dar laughs, watching how Salim is turning red and panting. Suddenly you deep throat him, making him moan his soul out.

-oh, habibi!

Salim places his hand on his mouth, frowning his eyebrows.

You feel Dar gripping into your butt, while fucking you with his, now two, fingers. He's being pretty rough but it feels so good, fuck. Your ass lifts on its own. You feel your legs shaking in anticipation. You try your best to please Salim, sliding your tongue across his veins. He loves it. You see him trying to keep it together and not start using you as a fuck toy. Tho his hand is already being a bit pushy on your hair. Poor baby trying so hard to be polite!

-*Salim, come here..*

Dar grabs the back of his head and gives him a rough but passionate kiss on the lips. Well..that was surely unexpected! You feel Salim's dick started pulsating in your mouth. What a move, Dar..

-*don't expect me to do it again..it's a one time offer*

He whispers into Salim's lips. Sure, mr drunk guy, we believe you. Especially Salim, who kept greedily kissing him. He starts moaning into the kiss and you feel his hot cum feeling your throat.

-*I knew you were into me, soldier*

Dar whispers smugly. Salim is trying to catch his breath switching his attention between you two. Dar looks at you.

-*now excuse me, I need to take care of my little angel*

Dar picks you up from Salim and places in his lap. Oh he's hard. Looking straight into your eyes.

-*hayaatii~*

He looks so bold..you bite your lip. God you want this man to fuck the living soul out of you.

-captain Basri...

Low move! You made him gasp!

-*cheeky girl..I'll show you captain Basri*

Salim swallows looking at him.

-*don't go too hard on her*

-*don't teach me how to handle my woman.*

He grabs your hips, making you get up to give him space for taking off his pants. He keeps his underwear on and places you back, right on his dick.

-*you want this?*

He starts rubbing you against himself. He does it fast and neat.

-*you want me to fuck you good, little angel? To make you see the stars?*

You look at Salim.

-do y-you want him..?

You nod, looking back at Dar.

-*I'll fuck you until you beg, my treasure..*

He takes out his dick, instantly pressing it against your entrance but not going in. He grins.

-Dar...please...captain Basri...

He tightens his grip on your hips and abruptly makes you take his full length. You cry.

-shh shhh..

He whispers into your ear.

-*you called for captain Basri - you get captain Basri..*

He starts moving you. Short but quick and sharp pounds make everything inside you burn. Salim is watching with excitement.. you reach your hand for him, he places it in his. You hold him tight. The skin on your butt hurts from Dar's grasp but it's not the worst pain you feel, trust me. It hurts..but the pain feels so good..

He makes it rougher, he makes you completely lose your breath. He even manages to place random kisses every now and then as if teasing you. Yeah, sure, you can be gentle while absolutely rearranging someone's guts.

Your moans make Salim bite his lip..Dar was right..they are something. He'd love to kiss you right now...but you're not really..approachable at the moment..

-*ah, Salim, she sounds so lovely..do you hear that?*

-*I do..*

Salim's reply sounded so..sincere. Don't think he himself expected to sound like that..

You let go of Salim's hand and hug Dar's neck tightly. You feel how well he stretched you out, how hard he is inside you. Big bear is happy to feel that hug...he slows down a bit but makes you move along his full length. Both of you moan almost in sync. He whispers your name. You feel how close you are and not only you. Salim suddenly decides to repay Dar by kissing his neck from behind, going for hickeys. Dar's eyes widened. He frowns, as he barely managed to pull out in time. He spills all over both of you.

-*you son of a bastard!*

He raises his tone at Salim. Salim laughs, making Dar chuckle in reply. Finally, he's able to kiss you... Salim carefully places his fingers on your chin and presses his lips against yours, while Dar kisses your neck with a relaxed sigh.

Maybe now they'll finally calm down...falling asleep with you in both of their arms.

[line-of-fire]

Borealis: Fine! Judge all you want but...  Borealis, points at Stetson: Married a lesbian.  Borealis, points at Sweet Tea : Left a man at the altar.  Borealis, points at Romeo : Fell in love with a gay ice dancer.  Borealis, points at Spuds: Threw a girl’s wooden leg in a fire.  Borealis, points at Hazard: Lives in a box!

[fanficgirly18]

Laughing Jack x Female Chubby Reader| Part 2

__________________________

You woke up in a sweat. 

Your eyes darted around your familiar surrounding of a bedroom, living room or wherever you slept. 

You couldn't go back to sleep and definitely stayed up the rest of the night. It took you till the full next day to convince yourself it was a lucid dream. 

However. 

You did notice you felt a little more comfortable in your body wherever. You felt more confident. 

But you still wondered why you dreamed of him. 

That clown.

You fell asleep the next night. 

A 

Deep 

Sleep. 

________________________________

You could hear carnival music. Specifically the song Pop goes the Weasel. 

 In your peripheral vision was a hand.

A small hand, palm open. You shifted causing your cheek to scrap slightly against stone ground. Something damp was on your cheek and there was a smell of metal. Your fat arms could barely support you but you managed to sit up

- and then you saw this small hand was connected to the bloody corpse of a child. Your eyes widened. Gashes had run down their neck and had ripped opened their small windpipe and caused blood to pool to your hands and clothes and body. 

Blood was on your face. 

On you. 

The child's eyes were rolled back, puffy indicating they had been crying, and only showing the white part.

They had been recently alive. 

"The kid is dead, sweets."

You twisted around, causing the creases in your stomach to hurt and body to ache. You were confronted with breeches. Striped breeches. Black and white. Similar to-

No doubt it was-

No-

"Hey girly, my eyes are up here."

A sharp claw took ahold of you're face and you're forced to look right up. He looked down at you. 

That same clown. 

The only difference was he was now standing at his full height. Practically 7 feet tall towering over you. One of his long dangly arms was where the claw was connected to and was so long that it could reach you without him having to bend.  

"L...laughing Jack?"

"Hiiii."

He squeezed your cheeks together. If you only had a slimmer face- then his claws would have had less meat to dig into. Unfortunately you do not.

"It's so good to see you again."

He released you and moved around you, brushing against your shoulder. You whirled around, hands falling to the ground. They left blood marks.

The clown was across from you and observing the child's corpse. He stuck his leg out and poked the body's side with the tip of his shoe.

"STOP," you yelled. He glanced at you. 

He then kicked the corpse so hard it was flung 5 feet away, causing blood to follow it.  It was such a swift motion and the little body turned like a lifeless doll. 

Maybe you stared at him in horror and disbelief. Maybe you looked at the child's body in deep sorrow. Either way you were terribly upset. Tears were coming to your eyes.

Oh god.

"It's a pityyyy," the clown jeered,

"If only you hadn't left last time."

His eyes now looked at you, piercing through. 

"I was pretty pissed about that."

It took you a moment to realize he was blaming you for the death of a child. 

"They were only a kid," you whispered, "They didn't- you can't just kill a kid."

He gave you a creepy smile. 

"Why?" he asked. 

You looked at him either angry, disgusted, shocked, sad or all. You knew why but you were at a loss for words. 

"Well? Go on. Tell me, sweets- why shouldn't I kill kids?" 

He grabbed your face again, harshly this time. 

"ANSWER ME NOW."

He suddenly was ten times scarier. 

"What will I get if I stop killing kids?"

"M-money," you whispered, too scared to speak up.

"MONEY? Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! No no no! I want something else..."

He stared hard at your terrified expression, grinning ear to ear. 

"I want you."

 He let your face go but kept a talon finger under your chin.

"Stay here in the dream world forever and I'll stop killing kids."

You begin to shake your head. His claws touched your collar bone. 

"What's your life to millions of kids?"

You knew he was capable of ending young life. You felt the tears running like a river. 

"Don't you wanna save the kiddies?"

Say no. Say no. 

That poor kid. 

"...yes."

"YES!"

His expression went overly enthusiastic. His eyes wide and crazed. He ignored your terrified expression.  "Here's how we're going to do this!"

He pulled out a candy from his sleeve. unwrapped it and examined it. It was a completely white color. 

"Non-poisonous," chirped Laughing Jack, "And sugar free. This will do."

He popped it in his mouth and bent forward, over the corpse of the kid, his face now infront of yours.

"Open your mouth," he said, while allowing the candy in his own to get coated in saliva. 

You knew what was going to happen. 

You were definitely disgusted and hesitant. 

"Girly. Do as I say."

His eyes narrowed. Your jaw quivered and opened. 

He pushed your lips together. Your tongues twirled passing the candy from one to another. The candy tasted sour compared to his tongue. He held your face with both claws. 

The candy dissolved.  And now the deal was sealed.

[avatar-anna]

Love your writing!! Can you write something with a sick Harry? Maybe he starts feeling unwell after a show, not thinking much of it thinking he’s dehydrated and hungry but after hanging with the band and you for a while he asks if you guys can leave and he ends up throwing up throughout the night having caught some sort of bug? Lots of fluff and comfort for Harry! Ah I would love

ok, so i kinda cheated on this one. this is from a series of one shots that i made for one of my fics on my wattpad. it's really similar to your request and very sweet. enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked in the door of yours and Harry’s house after dropping your daughter off at preschool. Setting your keys down in the little bowl on the kitchen counter, you fixed a cup of hot tea and brought it upstairs. 

It was quiet in the house, the sounds of early morning cartoons and your daughter singing along now gone. You picked up toys and stray shoes as you made your way down the hall toward the master bedroom, quickly tossing everything into your daughter's bedroom, which was floor to ceiling lavender and white, and closed the door behind her.

When they put together the room, you didn’t think of yourself or Harry as interior designers, but your husband apparently had a whole plan in his head of how he wanted his daughter’s bedroom to look. You let Harry have his fun, too excited for the baby to finally arrive to pay attention to the steadily increasing budget. You would lecture him on it later when you realized how much he spent, but it turned out great in the end, and your daughter loved it, and that’s all that really mattered to you in the end.

“Knock, knock,” you said quietly, knocking on the bedroom door. Hearing a grumble from the other side of the door, you opened it and sat down on Harry’s side of the bed. You couldn’t even see him, just a mess of pillows, blankets, and a small tuft of hair poking out underneath it all. “How are you feeling, baby?”

Harry groaned again, but there was movement underneath the pillow pile. His head poked out, and you leaned over to kiss his forehead. His nose was red and his eyes watery, small beads of sweat dotting his hairline. “I’m okay,” he croaked.

“Oh, babe,” you cooed, resting your hand against his forehead to check his temperature. 

Harry woke up early this morning in a cold sweat, his shivering and coughing waking you up as well. He was supposed to take your daughter to school, but you told him to stay in bed and rest. Harry was too tired to protest, pulling the extra blanket you had laid on the bed up to his chin and falling back asleep almost immediately.

You had started to notice that Harry always got like this right after he came home from tour, all the traveling and long nights performing onstage finally catching up to him. Anticipating this, you took the next couple days off of work so you could take care of him; you would never tell him, but Harry could be a very needy sick person, shuffling around in his robe and asking if you could stay in bed with him just a little bit longer. It was very different to how you were when you got sick, but you were happy to take care of him and get him back on his feet, at the very least so that you didn’t have to follow him around and pick up the trail of tissues he usually left behind.

“Here,” you said when Harry finally sat up. “I still can’t quite get it like your mom’s, but I think I got pretty close this time.”

You handed over the mug you’d brought upstairs, and Harry took it from you, whispering his thanks as he blew the steam away. You stood up from where you were sitting to go do some chores around the house, maybe make some soup for Harry while he fell back asleep. As you shifted on the bed, though, Harry grabbed ahold of her hand, warm from holding the mug of tea in it.

“Stay? I know you work in a little bit, but just for a few minutes?” 

It was a sight for sore eyes. Harry’s hair was mussed and splayed messily across his forehead, his tired eyes rimmed with red as he tried to give you his most convincing pout.

Deciding it would be a nice surprise for him to wake up and still find himself wrapped up in her arms, you simply nodded and took off your shoes before climbing back into bed. Harry immediately curled into you, his arms finding purchase around your waist and his face hiding from the rest of the world into the crook of your neck. You never believed him, but Harry always swore that whenever he was sick like this, being cuddled up to you, was the best medicine anyone could ask for, even going as far as saying it made him feel better physically when he got to hold you like this.

You rested your chin on top of Harry’s head and started to scratch up and down his back and through the knots in his hair with your fingers, and you swore you heard him purr when your fingers ran delicately across his scalp. Harry fell in and out of sleep for the next couple hours, getting up once or twice to go to the restroom, but he was pretty much in a sick-induced haze the whole time. 

In between bouts of sleep, you got up occasionally—to grab your phone, to change out blankets, and to rest a cold towel on Harry’s forehead when you thought his fever was spiking a little too much for your taste. But you mostly stayed in bed with Harry, smiling faintly whenever his hands subconsciously reached for you, pulling you close whenever they latched onto your shirt or hand, or whatever part of you he could grab.

The last time Harry stirred, he seemed more aware of his surroundings. He blinked his eyes open, widening them slightly when he realized you were actually in bed with him and that he wasn’t still dreaming. “What are you still doing here?”

Harry’s voice was low and scratchy, from disuse and whatever bug he’d caught. You cupped his cheek in your hand and rubbed your thumb across his skin, still warm, but not as feverish as before. “I took the day off. Figured I would try my hand at nursing for the next couple days.”

He smiled at you, and it was dopey with sleep. Bringing his hand out of his mountain of blankets, he pinched your nose affectionately. “You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did,” he whispered to you, and you had to fight the urge to smile. No, you didn’t have to stay home, but you were pretty sure Harry would be worse off if you hadn’t. And you’d missed him too. It wasn’t easy being away from him for so long.

You recognized the look that passed over Harry’s face, but as much as you loved him, you were not about to risk getting sick by giving him a kiss. You sat up and started putting your shoes on. Turning towards Harry, you kissed his cheek, and you felt his face break out into a small grin against your lips. “I’m going to pick up our beautiful baby girl and then go to the store to grab some stuff for you. I’ll make dinner when I get home, okay?”

“Can’t I just have one?” Harry asked, his voice sounding like a whine at the end. You stood at the foot of the bed, contemplating whether you should oblige him or not. He won you over when he jutted out his bottom lip and said, “Please?”

“Alright, but just one. The last thing we need is for whatever you have spread to me and our daughter.” You leaned in, planning on just pecking Harry on the lips and going on your way. Harry had other plans on his mind, though, and cupped the back of your neck and held you there longer, savoring the taste of your lips on his after being away from home for so much time.

“Satisfied?” you asked when you stood back up, but Harry’s lazy grin told you everything you needed to know. 

“Mm, yes. I’m feeling better already.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and walked towards the door of their bedroom. Before you left, you turned around and blew him one final kiss before you left. Harry caught it and pressed it to his chest, then closed his eyes to go back to sleep again.

When you picked up your daughter at the curb of her preschool, she animatedly chatted your ear off about everything she did today. You listened dutifully, chiming in where you were supposed to, but she mostly liked to ramble about random things until she tired herself out and fell asleep in the backseat of the car. Before your daughter could actually sleep this time, you pulled up to the store by their house and walked in with their hands clasped together.

“I wanna shop with you, Mami,” she said to you when you started pushing a plastic red cart around. 

You couldn’t quite remember how this little tradition started, but nearly every time your daughter went with you or Harry to the grocery store, she perused the aisles on either of her parents’ backs. Apparently it was the only way she thought grocery shopping was acceptable.

“Sure, bug, hop on,” you told her, bending down for your daughter. 

You walked through the various aisles, picking up stuff you remembered you needed at home as you made your way to the pharmacy section, occasionally putting back the things your daughter tried to sneak into the cart without you noticing.

“Pleaaaseee,” she asked when you put back a bag of chocolates. It appeared your daughter and your husband both had a sweet tooth. You eventually let her, figuring Harry would be the one to eat most of them anyway.

As you and your daughter shopped together, you could feel the stares on the two of you, the recognition that came with marrying a famous musician and having his kid like a blanket over your shoulders. Your daughter had seen Harry’s fans at the few concerts you had taken her to, and any interactions they had with them together were great, each fan they met totally friendly and respectful of any boundaries set up between them and your daughter. But you weren’t at a concert right now, and it was important to you and Harry that your daughter had as normal an upbringing as possible, and meeting fans while you were buying groceries and Harry was waiting for them at home sick wasn’t necessarily what either of you would consider normal.

While you were aware of the few teenage girls in the produce aisle with their phones subtly pointed in your and your daughter’s direction, she remained blissfully unaware as she played with strands of your hair that was tied up in a ponytail. You waved and gave the fans a small smile before turning and heading towards the pharmacy section with your daughter humming on her back. You never wanted to be rude to Harry’s fans, not ever wanting to make him look bad, and it just wasn’t who you were, but they had places they needed to be today.

When you had everything you needed, you checked out and drove home. On the way back, your daughter asked you to play her Papá’s music, a staple for her anytime she was in the car and going somewhere. You obliged, playing all of your daughter’s favorites and signing along as you weaved in and out of  traffic. When they got home, you went upstairs to check on Harry, your daughter and trailing behind. He was still asleep, but when you checked his temperature again, it had gone down. 

Harry, who wasn’t as fast asleep as you initially thought, blinked his eyes open to find his daughter peering closely at his face. He gave her a tired half-smile and opened his blankets for her to cuddle into. She grinned and got under the covers with Harry, settling against his chest. Modern medicine be damned, he thought. Spending time with his two most favorite girls in the whole world was better than anything you brought home from the store just now.

“Hey bug, why don’t you grab that book we bought the other day and you can read with your Papá,” you told her as you cleared off some of the tissues and vitamin-C packets on Harry’s bedside table.

“Will that make you feel better?” she asked Harry, and he brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek, a warm smile on his face. 

“I have no doubt in my mind it will. Reading with you is my favorite thing to do in the whole wide world.”

“I thought you loved singing the most,” your daughter said curiously, her head tilting to the side.

Harry sat up against the headboard and pulled his daughter into his lap. “You’re right, but I love you more.”

You knew that, but it warmed your heart to hear him say it. You moved to leave your and Harry’s bedroom to get started on making the three of you dinner, but Harry took your hand before you could make it very far. “I love you too,” he said, that same look as before gracing his features once again.

Oh, what the hell, you thought. You leaned over and kissed him, only this time it didn’t last as long because your daughter was there to separate them. She and Harry, but mostly Harry, managed to convince you to just order in tonight so you could all spend time together cuddling up on the bed and reading your daughter's favorite picture books, Harry regaling his two girls with tales of life on the road every now and then. By the time you’d eaten, watched a movie, and read half of the books on your daughter’s bookshelf, the sun had set and it was time for their day to end, and you told her that it was time to get ready for bed, in her bed. 

“Why can’t I stay here, Mami?” she asked, clinging to her father. 

You looked to Harry for help, but you quickly realized that he was not going to be on your side on this one. He got like this when he’d been away from home for a while. You understood that he wanted to make up for lost time, but he was sick, and they really didn’t need a sick four year old on their hands as well. 

“Papá is sick, love bug, so he needs lots of rest so he can feel better.”

“But he said I make him feel better,” she argued, not making a move to leave her father’s side.

You sighed and shot a look at Harry, to which he only gave a sheepish smile in response. “She does,” he said, his voice not as scratchy as it was earlier today. “She really, really does.”

You knew you had been beat, trying to get in between daddy-daughter time proving to be nearly impossible. “Okay, little lady. But we still have to brush our teeth and get into our pj’s, so come on.”

She reached up, letting you carry her away to get ready for bed. You couldn’t quite believe the amount of gift-giving that happened when the world found out that you and Harry had a child together. And for the first couple weeks that they had brought her home, gifts from friends, family, people that Harry had worked with in the past, people you didn’t even know, were sending all sorts of stuff, but mostly designer clothes. Even four years later, she was still receiving package after package.

“What is a four year old supposed to do with custom Gucci?” you had asked Harry when you opened a package from his favorite designer. “I mean, she’s going to grow out of this in a few months.”

While you had had your reservations, Harry was like a kid on Christmas, opening each package with a steadily growing grin on his face. “I don’t know, but aren’t these the cutest shoes you’ve ever seen?”

Of course it was all adorable, and your daughter looked absolutely to die for in all of it. You thought some of it was a little over the top, like the monogrammed Chanel and Versace tracksuits, but you figured it would make good sleepwear and cozy clothes for her daughter. 

You both came back into your room. You were still worried about all of you sleeping in the same bed when Harry had been so sick this morning, but he seemed to be doing better than when he initially woke up. 

“How are you feeling?” you asked him, trying to give him a once over.

Harry had moved to the center of the bed so that you and your daughter could be on either side of him. As you settled into bed, he pressed tiny kisses into your skin. “Better.” You opened your mouth, but Harry beat you to the punch, knowing exactly what you were going to say next. “And I’m not just saying that. I’m feeling better, and I’ve missed my girls. So come here and kiss me. Please.”

You rolled your eyes, but rested against your husband anyway, pecking him on the lips. Wanting his attention, your daughter climbed over Harry and in between the two of you. “See? I made him feel better.”

“You sure did,” you agreed, kissing your daughter’s temple. “Now get some sleep. You have school tomorrow.”

She eventually did fall asleep wedged between her parents, but you and Harry stayed up, Harry having found some newfound energy after napping almost all day. 

You and Harry went downstairs to spend some time alone together on the couch. He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder as she fired up the TV. 

“Did you ever think we’d actually be here when we first started dating? Married? A kid? Me wiping your nose with a tissue without so much as a flinch?”

He laughed lightly, his fingers brushing across the ring on your left hand. “Yes, yes, and most definitely yes.”

“Oh come on, be serious,” you said, shoving his knee. It wasn’t something you thought about often, but now that you asked it, part of you did wonder. None of his answers would change what you already had, either, you just liked to see Harry squirm every once in a while.

“Well, we had decided to take things slow,” Harry started, and you nodded along as if you could picture their first date as if it was yesterday. “But I really, really, really, really liked you.”

Harry emphasized each “really” with a kiss to your skin, making you blush and trying to shift out of his lap, but it only made him hold on to you tighter. While you could picture the earlier days of your relationship with clarity, it still felt like lightyears away from where you were now. Sometimes it surprised you how far the two of you had come, but nothing about how you felt for Harry, how you managed to love him more and more every day since their first few dates caught you by surprise. It just made sense.

After a few more minutes of reminiscing, you put on a movie like you and Harry had originally planned. Harry didn’t care what you put on, he was just happy to be with you after months of touring around the world and only seeing you through a phone or computer screen. He had more than watching a movie on the brain too, but he had a feeling you wouldn’t be in the mood while he was still sick. He settled for laying down on the couch with you, pressing lazy kisses wherever he could and letting his hands travel along the skin under your sleep shirt. 

You knew Harry was trying to start something, but you had been in this position before. He would be sick, sleep it off all day, and bring you downstairs while your daughter slept soundly in their bed. What he never seemed to remember was that like clockwork, Harry’s small bout of energy fizzled out halfway through the movie until he ultimately fell back asleep; he didn’t even realize you put on the same movie every time he came home from tour.

When you heard Harry’s soft snores over the sound of a movie you now pretty much knew by heart, you checked her phone. He lasted a little longer this time, you mused.

Turning off the TV, you nudged Harry’s shoulder; he often carried you up the stairs if you fell asleep, but you definitely couldn’t return the same courtesy. You nudged him a little harder, whispering his name until he finally opened his eyes. 

“What happened?” Harry asked, his voice sounding like he was still asleep.

“You fell asleep,” you whispered, helping him up and holding his hand as they walked back upstairs.

Harry trudged behind you, feeling like he had reverted back to where he was this morning, a headache starting to form and his body beginning to ache again. Rubbing his eyes and sniffling, he got back into bed.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish the movie. I know how much you like that one,” he said, his words slurred from tiredness and the medicine you made him take before he got under the covers with you and your daughter. He could say that they cured his ailments all he wanted, but you still believed in the power of ibuprofen and NyQuil.

“That’s okay. Some other time,” you told him, fighting your knowing smile. The only reason he thought it was your favorite was because they watched it every time he came home from tour.

Harry heard an inflection in your voice, but he was too tired to make any sense of it. Turning the light off on his bedside table, he settled against his pillow, your daughter already curled into your side. He kissed the top of her head, then yours, then turned around and went to sleep.

[imagine--if]

Hello! Dano! Riddler x reader where she is trying to learn riddles to try to impress him but instead ends up getting frustrated and he helps her with them!😍

A/N: I’m not gonna say how much time I spent looking online for good riddles 😂 worth it though, enjoy 💚

Pairing: Dano!Riddler x reader (The Batman 2022)

Warnings: FlUfF

Words: 597

"A woman shoots her husband, then holds him underwater for five minutes. Next, she hangs him. Right after, they enjoy a lovely dinner. Explain... What the hell?"

You sigh impatiently as you glare at your phone screen, biting your lip in thought. Edward makes it look so easy; then again, he is the Riddler, so puzzles like these come naturally to him.

It's not coming so naturally to you.

"She shoots her husband," you repeat slowly under your breath, brows furrowing in concentration, "underwater, hangs him... she... what?!"

As if on cue, Edward comes into the room with two cups of tea, setting them down on a nearby table with a sweet smile.

"I made us tea," he says, sitting beside you on the sofa and glancing at your phone. "What are you doing, angel?"

You're quick to switch the screen off, looking up as innocently as you can at him.

"Nothing."

Eddie raises a brow in with an amused, unconvinced look.

"Nothing?"

You nod, your smile growing. "Yep."

His eyes shift to look at your phone, then back up at you.

"Are you... hiding something?" He asks teasingly, leaning in closer to you as he brushes a lock of hair away from your face, his fingers grazing your cheek at the action. "Are you going to make me guess?"

You scoff lightly at the irony. "Yeah, I'm all out of guesses."

A confused frown makes its way onto Edward's face, and he sits up attentively.

"What do you mean, darling?"

You hesitate before sighing impatiently, turning your phone back on. "I was trying to learn riddles-"

Edward immediately gasps happily, eyes lighting up at the topic. "You are?!"

"The emphasis is on 'tried,'" you repeat, shaking your head in annoyance. "I'm just not as good at this stuff as you are, Ed, which is really annoying, because I want to have that in common with you. I'm just dumb, I guess."

He gasps again, this time out of shock at the last statement.

"Don't ever say that about yourself," Edward scolds you as he pokes your sides playfully, making you laugh. "You aren't dumb. You're my clever girl, aren't you? It takes a while to understand these things, angel. Here," he continues, moving over and pulling you up onto his lap, "let me help. What are you struggling with?"

You read out the riddle before looking behind your shoulder at him expectantly, and sure enough, a knowing smirk graces his lips.

"Ah, I see. This is aiming to throw you off track with all the information. But you need to focus on the first verb, 'shoots.' What else can you shoot with besides a gun, baby?"

You think quietly to yourself for a long moment, though it isn't exactly easy to focus while Eddie's resting his head in the crook of your neck, rocking you gently in his hold. Then it comes to you, and your eyes widen in realisation.

"Like, oh- a camera?"

Edward grins, giggling gleefully. "Exactly! She took a picture of him, developed it in her darkroom, and 'hangs' it up. You see?"

You nod with a smile. "Yeah, I see. Thanks."

"You practically got that one by yourself," he praises you, pressing a kiss on your neck and squeezing you tighter. "All you need is a little prompting. I'm so proud of you, always."

Your smile widens as you lean back in his embrace. "That's all I want."

Edward smiles back, taking ahold of one of your hands and bringing it to his lips, kissing it lovingly. "Then that's all you'll get."

Taglist:

@deadlights-darling @tianotfound @mortem-muse @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell @bloodypantomime

[georgiapeach30513]

150. “Stop distracting me” soft lloyd plz 🥹😍

Soft!Lloyd makes me FERAL!! Don't ask me why. We know he's just soft for you though.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Sweet Delectable Cupcake

Summary: you needed Lloyd’s voice

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, teasing, voice kink, thigh riding, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  850

Lloyd Hansen Masterlist

Lloyd and his toys. He was always up to something. Always plotting away at his next job. But sometimes you needed attention. You know that Lloyd was hated by many, but not by you.

You saw a different side of Lloyd, a side that was reserved only for you. And yet, there was something that made you absolutely feral at the thought of him using that voice with you. He was sometimes too soft, and you wanted to test out a theory.

Walking into his toy room, while he cleans a gun, you set down a tray of snacks and tea, hardly getting any recognition for it. Spinning on your heels, you go to stomp away, and that’s when Lloyd gets a glimpse of your pretty little dress. He doesn’t ever remember you wearing that one, and he hopes you never wear it in public.

Next thing you do is ask him what he would like for dinner. He mumbles off something quick, and you walk away before he can properly take a look at you. But he sees you. The top of your dress had a few too many buttons undone.

The last time you come in, you go to cleaning up his work space. Your signature scent on wafting into his memory, and you constantly touch along his skin. He doesn’t give you a moment to retreat, just rubs his calloused fingers over your skin, “Would you stop distracting me? You keep coming in here more undone than the last time, what is going on?”

“Lloyd!” you give him a pout. Your eyes staring up at him going glossy as you whine to him, “I was trying to get you riled up?”

“Why’s that Cupcake?” his thumb brushes over your lips, gliding over your puffy skin before aside to give you a gentle kiss, “What could you possibly want to rile me up for?”

“I want you to talk to me like you do them.”

“Them?”

“Literally everyone else. I want you to use that angry voice. And…”

He walks you backwards. Holding you up, as you start to trip on something. His brows furrowed, as he pushes you back, until you’re flush with the wall. His nose traces over your neck, gliding up until his mouth is right over your ear. With a gravely rustle to his whisper, he sends a chill up your spine, “Does it make you wet when I use my angry voice?”

You shake your head no, and gulp. His hand grabs ahold of your hip tightly as he forces you to squat down on his thigh. “Cupcake, I asked you a fucking question, you will not ignore me. Does my angry voice make you wet?”

“Sometimes,” your voice squeaks out.

“Oh my sweet delectable cupcake, why didn’t you just say so,” leaning forward, he nips a bit at your neck. His tongue tasting your skin, while you become a whimpering mess. Only the tiniest chuckle rumbles up his throat, and you feel slick rush to your core.

“Is it me being angry that turns you on, or is it just the sound of my voice?” unable to answer him, your hips rock on his thighs. His toned and defined muscles creating the perfect contrast to your aching sex.

“I think it’s just my voice that gets you this needy, hmm?” he melts at your sweet sounds. His head twisting to the side so he can view you falling apart on him. Smiling at your blissful face, and the fact that you can get off on just his thigh. “You can take whatever you need, Cupcake. My body is yours just as much as your body is mine. I’m here to pleasure your most deplorable thoughts.”

Your body heats up, and you moan looking up at him. He was sin personified. Glorious sweet filthy transgressions, and you had every part of him. “Of course,” you give him a whine, feeling yourself move faster on him. Racing to the finish line, wrapping both hands around his neck to ground yourself. “There is a time and place.”

“Lloyd, no!”

“Fine, then I’ll have you bent over the table, while I fuck into this sweet little snatch, and I won’t fucking care who sees. They’ll know that you’re my greedy little whore cunt just needs to be stuffed full of me all the fucking time.”

Your head throws back to the ceiling as you scream out lustful prayers for him. Your cunt gushing over Lloyd’s leg. Slowing down your grinds to guide you through your release. He peppers open mouth kisses on your sticky and heated skin, smiling when you look back down at him. “There she is. You feel better now?”

“I want more.”

“I know you do. But let me finish, and I promise, I’ll fuck you into the mattress, and you won’t be able to walk for a fucking week,” he snorts when he feels your pussy clench around nothing. Just hearing his filthy mouth, “Yeah, I’m gonna have to treat you like a slut sometimes, aren’t I? Let’s get you some water. Rehydrate you, because I need your juices soaking the bed, and we have to sleep somewhere else, okay?”

“Whatever you want Lloyd.”

“That’s my girl. And then when we’re done, I’m going to feast on that sweet cupcake in between your thighs.”

Masterlist

Taglist:  @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida  @thedarkplume​ @duuhrayliegh​ @rebekahdawkins @johndeaconshands​ @harrysthiccthighss​  @donutloverxo​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @sstan-hoe @randomagnes0210 @bambamwolf87 @whimsyplaty92 @feyfantome @buckysteveloki-me