#and new chapters started coming out recently so it's not like there was a gap of years that's making the plot hard to follow for me

[httpsserene]

httpsserene’s F1 Kinktober ‘23

summary: you can't remember the last time you've gotten to spend more than three days at a time with both of your boyfriends. you understand how demanding their job is but, you just can't remember the last time they really exhausted you. and then winter break comes around, and they have all the time they need to make you lose your mind.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. daniel is definitely taking yall somewhere—max and reader are just along for the ride 💀. i tried to write sub!max, i think it came across well, and ahead of time, i think i may have slayed (and if you think i changed the summary, stfu no i didn’t 😌) enjoy y'all !!!!

click here for f1 kinktober ‘23 table of contents.

⌕ prev | join taglist | reqs & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents | next ↻

overstimulation — 𝐝𝐫. 𝟑 & 𝐦𝐯. 𝟏 daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x fem!black!reader 6.5k words. overstimulation. light dom/sub. quickies. cunnilingus. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. unprotected sex (practice safe sex, pls). safewords. creampie. come eating. squirting. hand job. masturbation. dacryphilia. mention of nudes. praise kink. aftercare. set after the 2023 season. no beta we die like carlos’ fuel system.

this past racing season was long; daniel knows that well; he went from being the third driver at red bull, to having a seat at alphatauri, to breaking his wrist–and still managed to recover to drive in the last five races. max can also account for how lengthy this season was; he dominated every race illustrated by his 10 consecutive wins, won his team the constructor’s championship 16 races in, won his third world driver’s championship the following week through a sprint race, and still had to stick around for five more races. but, daniel and max both know who has the best firsthand account of how prolonged and draining the formula one 2023 season was.

you.

daniel knows that you’re they’re biggest supporter; you’re a sweetheart. and while you haven’t vocalized your displeasure for the twenty-three races this year–he can feel your dejection. at the start of the season, everything was seen through rose-colored glasses; max was winning, the three of you were having champagne-drenched celebrations in hotel rooms–so filthy the poor staff probably had to incinerate the sheets. you were satisfied; and daniel was with you whenever red bull didn’t want to parade him around at a grand prix. but as the months progressed and as daniel got a seat, the demanding nature of formula one was observable. the longer season had stolen them from you–they were flying from country to country, the gaps between races only long enough to only have them home for two or three days at a time, before they had to fly out and adjust to a new time zone. leaving your two boyfriends unable to make a mess of you as often as you all crave in doing so. phone sex is hot–but it can lose its luster over almost nine months. they’ve been neglecting you–even though every time either one of them suggests that notion, you disagree vehemently– but, it’s the truth.

they pride themselves on the fact that they used to make you beg for them to stop drawing orgasms out of you...but recently your sex life has consisted of dry-humping like horny teenagers, frantic pussy-eating and cock-sucking, and quickies in the shower. so, max and daniel formulated a plan.

after abu-dhabi, the three of you returned home to max’s monaco flat and fell into bed. you’re comfortably laying completely on top of daniel, front to front, and your head is tucked under his chin, turned to the side to face max, who’s settled on his side facing the two of you, arm draped over your back, with his hand squeezing at your waist randomly as he talks to daniel. you’re fighting sleep and losing; eyelids fluttering closed every now and then against your will, breath slowing as you edge closer and closer to sleep. you're floating on the brink of unconsciousness until you're dragged away at the soft sounds of daniel and max rousing you.

“there ya’ go, honey,” murmurs daniel, his voice rumbling in his chest underneath you, “we got somethin’ to ask you, before we let ya sleep, sweet girl.”

max’s hand shifts to rub at the length of your back, and you clear the sleepy haze from your mind enough to nod your head and hum softly in question, “m’kay.”

daniel gently pulls your head from his neck with his tattooed hand on your nape, making sure your pretty eyes, foggy with sleep, make eye contact, “how do ya’ feel about spending december in australia, hmm? a sunny christmas–on the ricciardo ranch; you, me, max and our families–ain’t that perfect, honey?”

max smiles softly at your pout–you’re never one to appreciate having your sleep interrupted–before adding on to daniel’s question, “jimmy and sassy can stay with the sitter; i already spoke to her a few days ago. she’d be thrilled to have them, so you don’t have to worry about where’d they stay. i don’t think i can get pet passports in three days nor do i want to see how two bengal cats act on a private jet for twenty hours.”

a few seconds pass, max and daniel searching your face for any hint to a possible answer. you blink a few times, before you murmur faintly, “‘m okay with it…can i go to sleep now?”

max laughs tenderly, guiding your head back into daniel’s neck before he scoots closer and rests his own head on the australian’s shoulder, “yeah, mijn schatje. sleep well.”

daniel wraps the arm pinned under max around him, pulling him closer to drop a kiss on his forehead. his other hand falls on your back over the dutchman’s, caressing it softly. he holds the two of you as tight as he possibly can, the big grin on his face only seen by the ceiling. he has his whole world in his arms right now, but come christmas time, his whole universe–his family–will be under the same roof back home in australia.

the next three days are filled with an absurd amount of packing. max and daniel have five suitcases between the two of them—you have five for yourself; it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. the night before your flight, they watch you pace around the bedroom making sure there’s nothing important you’re forgetting. jimmy and sassy had been dropped off at the sitter’s, and max and daniel had already moved all the luggage to the entryway for the early flight. the two drivers had stopped trying to convince you to join them in the bed and cuddled together, knowing it’s best to let you work out your anxieties now so you don’t overthink on the flight.

as you start combing through the closet again, max whispers to daniel, “we could fuck the nerves out her right now, danny.”

daniel smacks max’s hip, smirking when he whines quietly, “no, maxy. she has to sit for an almost twenty hour flight, we can’t make that any more difficult for her.” the dutchman huffs, unhappy with the answer even though he knows it's the logical course of action.

dan continues, “remember: as soon as we get to the ranch and settle in—we'll be alone for a week before my parents come ‘n join us. we’ll have plenty of time to take her apart and put her back together.”

daniel was wrong. after y’all landed in perth, and made the drive out to the countryside—it was apparent that the three of you weren’t the only ones at the ranch. his parents had come early to make sure the ranch was prepped and fully stocked for your vacation, and prepared a home cooked dinner to welcome you in. dan can’t help his big smile from becoming a permanent fixture on his face as he watches his mom and dad fawn over you and max. grace pulls you into the house, instructing the men to bring the luggage inside while she gets to fixing you a plate heaping with barbecue. joe affectionately calls max ‘son’ with a tight hug, congratulating him on his third championship before they all make their way into the house.

the original plan is put on the back burner as daniel watches you and max bloom under the loving attention from his parents. the days passed quickly, all of them spent horsing around the farm; horseback riding, dirt biking, atv riding, making a trip out to the beach, eating good food, and sleeping well. dan sees max’s pale skin pinkening and your melanated complexion glowing with warmth from the caress of the australian sun. your afternoon naps are taken underneath the warm rays, stretching out in any slice of sun you can catch, bathing in it like a cat. max and dan do as many things as they can shirtless attempting to get their tan in as quick as possible—dan tans gracefully, max, on the other hand, burns like a lobster first before his tan becomes apparent.

they fucked you on the second day after your arrival, but not exactly how they were hoping too. it’s still a relatively short affair—for their standards, at least. while it quieted the need within you, it didn’t completely satisfy the urge for any of you. daniel had to coax you into biting a pillow to muffle your squeals, and have max nearly choke on his tattooed fingers to quiet his whining—dan himself clenched his jaw so tightly to prevent his own moans from escaping that he’s surprised he didn’t crack a tooth. he loves his parents, but he’s genuinely going to snap if he doesn’t get to ruin you and max without worrying if they could hear how he makes you and max beg for him.

on the fifth day, you wear your first sundress to lunch and max pulls daniel in the kitchen to muffle a scream into his chest. 

“dan, baby—i love your parents,” max starts, his eye twitching, “you know i do! but, i can’t go another day without hearing her scream for me—for us.”

they’re only men. very desperate men. and you had the nerve to parade yourself in this flowy, yellow, strapless sundress at a meal they have to suffer through. they can’t even tear it off of you after, because dan’s parents have a chance of overhearing. but, what forces the australian to kindly kick his parents out of the house, is how you fail to stop yourself from drooling over them playing around in the pool—struggling to continue speaking with his mom as you sit on the pool’s ledge. 

before dinner, dan showers by himself first, changing into fresh clothes. he then ushers you and max into the shower, ‘to rinse off the chlorine and sweat from the day,’ he says. but, he could care less about that. as soon as he hears the shower start, he practically sprints to the kitchen to see his mom and dad put the finishing touches on the burgers they fixed up.

daniel skids to a stop in the doorway, leaning against it in faux-relaxedness, and says, “howdy.” it’s silent for a minute; his dad stares at him blankly, and his mom eventually breaks and speaks plainly, “what is it, danny?”

daniel gasps in mock-disbelief, “why d’ya always think i want something from you? i can’t just be greeting my wonderful, loving, and understanding parents?”

grace stares at him, not fooled, “are you just saying ‘hi’?”

daniel stutters aimlessly looking to his dad for help, but joe just shrugs at him in a ‘you did this to yourself, son’ manner. 

“maybe! well, no, actually…” daniel sulks, slinking into the kitchen, and resting against the counter next to his mom.

his mom hums knowingly, and gestures at him to start speaking.

“uh, so, you know i love having y’all around, right, and uh, it’s nice y’know—i mean, i don’t see ya’ as often as i want to, but uh—don’t get me wrong, you’re my parents, but uhm—“

joe sighs, “daniel, cut to the chase, please.”

daniel groans, before he leans his head back to look at the ceiling, “fine. look—we just expected to at least have one week to ourselves when we got here. not that y’all being here to surprise us is bad! you know that. but, uhm…we just made plans, i guess. a-and we kind of can’t do it, because, well…”

grace washes her hands as daniel continues to ramble through an unnecessary apologetic explanation. she turns the water off, drying her hands on a towel, and turns to her husband, pointing at daniel while rolling her eyes teasingly, before she cuts her son off, “daniel, we can leave tonight.”

daniel stops, head dropping to look at his mom in shock, “what?”

“we can leave tonight, if that’s what you’re trying to ask. your father and i don’t mind,” grace smiles gently, “we weren’t supposed to stay for this long anyways, we were just trying to get the ranch prepared for y’all, and you know how enamored we are with your girl and boy; we overstayed our welcome. we can go and come back a week before christmas with the rest of the family, danny.”

daniel perks up, “you guys don’t have to leave for that long, i don’t wanna kick you out—“

“daniel, please,” joe scoffs, walking over to clap daniel on the back, “you’re not kicking us out. we’ll be back on the seventeenth, alright. hopefully, that gives y’all enough time to work out your frustrations. we really don’t want to overhear or see anything—“

daniel pales, “okAY, thank you, yes—please don’t comeback until as late as y’all want, jesus christ. wait—did you hear the other night?! ohmygod…they’re going to kill me.”

joe and grace laugh, “no, we didn’t hear anything, danny. we just figured from how they were following you around in the morning—max couldn’t even look us in the eye, son.”

daniel groans, embarrassed, “don’t tell them anything about this okay? they’ll break up with me if they know i asked you to leave so i could have sex with them.”

his parents' laughter only gets louder, but they agree eventually after they indulge in teasing their son a little more.

dinner is pleasant; you and max remain unaware of the ricciardo’s intervention, enjoying the well-cooked meal and lighthearted conversation. when everyone’s stomach is full and the conversation quiets, grace and joe break the news that they unfortunately have to return to perth. you and max sadden, trying to convince daniel’s parents to stay a little longer—max’s eyes fail to hide his eagerness at their announcement, even though his voice manages to be completely sincere. daniel watches as his parents formulate a fake excuse about their departute before he gently reminds you two, “they’ll be back for christmas, babes. you’ll see them again.”

the two of you calm at daniel’s statement, and walk his parents out to the car, exchanging hugs and kisses before they drive off back to the city. daniel leads you two back into the house after you’ve watched his parents disappear down the road, and the shift in energy as soon as the door locks is missed by you.

you mindlessly amble back to the dining table, stacking the emptied plates and glasses and wandering into the kitchen to clean them. as soon as you turn the sink faucet on, a strong body pushes against your back, and presses you against the edge of the counter as their hand reaches around you to shut the water off. you turn around to tell-off whichever boyfriend did that, but before you can get any words out, you’re pulled into a filthy kiss.

your shocked gasp is muffled by max’s lips, and you half-heartedly attempt to pull away, but the dutchman chases your lips, not allowing you to stop. you give in with a sigh, allowing max to continue kissing you. he buries one hand in your hair, tilting your head to the side for a better angle, and licks at the seam of your lips. you squirm against him, not quite giving into the coaxing of his tongue, and max hums softly before he tugs at your bottom lip. you turn your head to the side, panting softly to suck in a few desperate breaths before max pulls you back and invades the opening of your lips. you squeal at the feeling of his tongue laving against yours, the lewd wet sounds of your mouths have your thighs pressing together. max brings his other arm to grasp around your waist, and pulls you against him, groaning into your mouth at the smallest amount of friction that movement provided. you feel lightheaded, your knees weakening, but max firmly holds you up, not letting you slip from his grasp. your hands come up to wrap around him, one feeling up his chest before resting around his neck, and the other hand digging into the meat of his back in search of stability. he hums at the ache of your nails and drops both of his hands to cup the back of your thighs right under your ass. he lifts you onto the counter, spreading your legs and shoving his body between them, while still managing to not break the kiss. at the show of strength you arch your back, whining highly, pushing your chest against his—he’s so strong. he eagerly starts tugging the sundress up your legs, making to expose your panties before he’s interrupted by a sudden heavy hand on the back of his neck.

max jerks away from you (you can finally catch your breath), his chest heaving, and his own whine fills the air at the weight of daniel’s hand.

“now, darlin’,” daniel addresses max with a smirk, “this wasn’t part of our plan, was it? you forget the script, maxy?”

max blushes a pretty pink, and murmurs, “no, daniel—sorry, danny.” dan hums at the apology, pressing a kiss to max’s warm cheek.

“w-what plan?” you timidly ask, still sitting on the counter, legs spread obscenely, dress skewed messily, and lips swelling from max’s ambition.

daniel chuckles, eyes shining at you hungrily, “mmm. how ‘bout we make our way to the bedroom and ‘ll show ya, sweetheart?”

you’re spread eagle in the middle of the bed, completely naked, with daniel fully dressed in between your legs sucking marks and pressing kisses on your thighs, max stripped down to his boxer-briefs on his side next to you, doing the same to your neck and chest. you’re squirming viciously just from the feeling of his beard scraping against your inner thighs, squeals ripping from your throat when he leaves a hickey or bites at the meat of your thigh. the australian’s pupils are blown wide, as he watches you try and muffle your cries behind your hand—if this is how you’re responding to the two of them thoroughly refreshing their claim on you, he’s thrilled to see how you’ll lose your mind as the night goes on. pulling his head away, daniel presses his thumb into one of the bruises he left and your back arches deeply–you choke on your squeal, thighs slamming shut around his hand.

“none of that now, sweetheart,” dan instructs firmly, “‘s just me, you, and max, honey. no need to quiet those sweet sounds of yours, alright?”

you nod wildly, stumbling over your agreement, “y-yeah, danny. ‘ll be- i’ll be loud for you guys.”

max moans at your words from where his lips were tugging at your nipple, pulling away to raise himself back to your lips, thirstily tasting your desperation from its source. dan allows max to bruise up your mouth, and leave his own beard burn around your lips, as he undresses himself down to his briefs. 

“max…max, maxy, babe,” daniel softly calls a few times, failing to get the impatient man’s attention, “max, look at me.” the switch from dan’s soft tone to a deeper, base filled sound has max snapping away to look at daniel, panting roughly.

“be good f’me and give yourself a hand, darlin’,” dan commands, and max sighs lovingly at the endearment, “you can manage that right, maxy? while i get our sweet girl ready to take you, hm?”

max whimpers, “yes, danny,” and shifts to sit upright, pulling his underwear off and wrapping his large hand around himself. dan purrs, “good boy. her sweet cunt’s already drippin’ for us, maxy. won't take me long to stretch ‘er open for you.” you keen, humiliated at the way dan speaks about you like you’re not in the room with them. daniel tugs your legs open again, hiding his laughter in the plush meat of your thigh, but you can feel the smirk against your skin. 

embarrassed, you whine hushedly, hands fisting into the sheets by your side, “mean.”

daniel hums uncaringly at your remark, “mean? don’t worry, honey–when i finish with you, you’ll think ‘m mean for a very different reason.” he doesn’t give you a chance to ponder his words, and a firm drag of his tongue across your cunt destroys any chance for your thought processes. this time around, your moans are clear, echoing around the room. the press of daniel’s tongue is unforgiving and working intently at your clit. your thighs clamp around his head, not allowing the australian to escape even though he can feel your hips bucking away, trying to escape the consistent stimulation on one of your most sensitive spots. when one of your hands flies down to tug at his curls, he relents his assault and switches to prodding his tongue against your opening. he moans depravedly against your entrance, the noise vibrating through you, causing your shriek to pierce the air. he eats you out like a man starved; savagely shoving his tongue deeper inside you, curling against your walls, nose bumping against your clit, mouth moving like he’s truly trying to eat you alive. he ignores the ache of his jaw, the tightness of his briefs, how his beard scratches your skin; and he smoothly slips a finger into you, beginning thoroughly stretch you out.

it’s absolutely obscene-sounding. daniel works his way up to three fingers, and any previous qualms he had about you being too quiet are resolved. your whines are constant at the insistent invasion of daniel’s curling digits, and based on the way your legs are trembling, he can tell you're nearing the precipice. what’s even more erotic, is the way your cries harmonize with max’s own grunts of pleasure; the dutchman’s hips buck into the frantic pace of his hands and danny wouldn’t be surprised if max comes before he even gets inside you. daniel sits back on his heels, his fingers still digging deeper inside you, forcefully pressing against your g-spot. with his left hand, daniel knocks max’s hand away, ignoring the responding yowl of displeasure, and fists max’s cock on his own, “doin’ a little too much, maxy. our desperate girl deserves to come first, anyways—lemme set the pace for you, darlin’.” max suffers under danny’s ministrations; the extreme shift down in tempo, the constant attention on the head of his cock, a finger pressing at his slit or the vein along his underside alternatingly. you, on the other hand, are being pushed closer and closer to your orgasm. daniel’s thumb joins, rubbing quick circles of your clit–and you scream out, pleasure overriding you. when your moans start to blend into breathy little ah-ah-ah’s, he slips his fingers free from the tight clasp of your cunt, and releases his hold on max’s cock.

you sob achingly, begging daniel to make you cum, dismayed cries of, “no! danny, why’d you stop, please, make me cum,” falling from your lips as max mewls next to you, his own hands trying to force danny’s back around him. daniel shushes you, and motions for max to come closer. max flies forward happily, his whines cutting off at daniel’s attention. he man-handles max into hovering over you in missionary, his cock resting against your fluttering cunt, waiting for permission. your cries quiet, and your heart races with anticipation for max to bury himself in you. danny’s left hand grips at max’s corresponding hip, and his right hand slips in the narrow space between you two, and he presses the flushed arousal in you. and the australian cannot stop running his mouth.

“that’s ‘t, baby–nice n’ easy for ya’–mmm–he’s splitting you open isn’t he–yeah, soak ‘im, babe, get him nice and wet–no, sweetheart, don’t run from it–yeahhh just like that, you take ‘t so well–”

your own orgasm suprises you, otherwise you would’ve at least made an attempt to tell the two men. max hasn’t even gotten halfway inside you and you’re cumming; back-arching, toes-curling, hands rushing forward to scratch down max’s back, eyes screwed shut, and walls clamping tightly around him. max is whining above you, flinching away from the hot grasp of your inner walls, but daniel won’t let him pull out.

“danny, danny! please–oh–i-i-i’m gonna–not gonna last–‘m gonna cum, if i stay inside her,” max admits, sobbing embarrasingly.

daniel laughs softly from behind max, and shifts so his front is pressed to the dutchman’s back. max shivers at the sound, the hair on the back of his neck rising. “aww, you can’t handle it, darling? don’t worry, i’ve changed my plans for you, anyways,” daniel smugly whispers into max’s ear. dan brings both of his hands to the younger’s waist, and forces him deeper inside of you, ignoring the way max cries sensitively and keeps pushing him forward until he bottoms out. you and max let out twin squeals from the white-hot flash of pleasure; you struggle to adjust to his size as quickly as daniel forced him in–you pulsate around him, it’s like you’re still trying to drag him further in and push him out at the same time. daniel presses a kiss to max’s shoulder blade and praises him, “see, maxy? i knew you could do it—such a good boy f’me.”

max’s eyes roll back, and he can’t fight it–he cums, loudly. his limbs weaken and his body collapses over yours, head falling into your neck, and his lewd moans vibrate through your raw skin. the younger’s body covers you completely, and your knees come up to cradle max’s hips, encouraging him to thrust through the aftershocks. daniel leans back, continuing to bathe the two of you with praise as he lets you guys shudder through the come down. a couple minutes pass before your legs relax and max’s moans die down to breathy hums, as both of your chests heave as you try to regulate your breathing. 

“feelin’ good, my loves?” daniel questions tenderly.

you’re the first to respond, a sated smile sent the australians way, “so good, danny.” max sighs out a breathy “yeah,” muffled into your chest. daniel brightens, “alrighty–maxy, fuck her properly now, and make her cum again.” the dutchman grunts in disbelief, “what? no, i-i can’t, i just came–”

dan cuts max off, “you can’t or, you won’t?” max’s breath stutters at the sudden dominance in daniel’s tone, sitting up to turn his head to look at the older man incredulously. the smile on dan’s face is gone, his expression suddenly firm and unyielding–max can only drop his gaze away from daniel’s eyes, avoiding the piercing gaze.

“max, look at me,” the australian states unflinchingly, and the younger man’s eyes fly to meet his at the command.

“what’s your color, darlin’?”

with his tongue flicking out to wet his lips nervously, max mutely whispers, “green.” daniel’s piercing gaze drops to you and he repeats the question, “sweetheart, what’s your color?”

you squirm under his intense attention—max’s hips stuttering at the stimulation, and your bruised brown thighs squeeze at his waist until he stops—but the slight flare of pleasure that races up your spine decides your answer, “green, danny.”

a smirk spreads across daniel’s lips, “see, you can, maxy,” the younger blushes deeply at his teasing croon, “now, be a sweet prince for me, and fuck our sweetheart, hm?” and with a pinch to max’s hip, he sinks in you deeply with an oversensitive sigh, before he pulls out and sets a slow rhythm to allow you both a little more time to recover. the drag of his cock is coaxing soft shuddery breaths out of your lips, and sharp over-sensitive whines from max. his hands are trembling from where they’re grip flexes on your waist, veins popping with the strength of his grasp, sure to leave a mark on your darker skin. dan’s hands halt the gentle roll of his hips, before the man leads him at a quicker pace. max throws his head back onto daniel’s shoulder, overwhelmed at the feeling of your tight, soaking wet cunt, and cries out “too much—ngh—i-it’s too much!” but aside from all of his whines, he’s getting hard again. unlike max, the sensitivity from your orgasm had faded quickly—if anything, it’s doubling the amount of pleasure you’re feeling. desperate for more, you plant your feet on the bed and start rolling your hips to meet max halfway; moaning yearningly at the change in position.

the younger man frantically tries to force your hips back down, the friction added from you meeting his thrusts is too great. “heyheyhey—none of that, prince,” daniel quickly tugs max’s hands away from your waist, one hand firmly holding them against the younger’s chest, “remember, we made a promise to give her so many orgasms to make up for how mean we’ve been to her. you don’t want to break that promise; right, darling?” max tries to hide his face in dan’s shoulder, but it’s too late—he starts sobbing. daniel watches how the tears rain down max’s cheeks, and how his face crumples so prettily—is it weird that making his usually unbothered boyfriend cry, turns him on?

max sniffles, “n-no, danny. -ll do it, i-i wanna make her cum.” not wanting to disappoint you any further, he starts quickening his strokes on his own, eventually outpacing the rhythm daniel set for him. it dawns on max quickly; he’s not going to last, again. he makes the mistake of looking at the blissed out expression on your face, the knot in his tummy tightening as he watches how your mouth falls open in a moan, wet and inviting. he drops his eyes away, but they fall on where the two of you are connected; the sight causes him to choke on his breath. his own thrusts have forced his cum out of you, frothing at your entrance, smeared all over your labia and staining your inner thighs. if he could eat you out and fuck you at the same time—he’d be doing it. max urgently asks daniel, “d-danny, ‘m gonna cum—please, can i cum?” ignoring max, dan’s hand lets go of max’s, and falls to let his middle and ring finger rub vigorously at your clit. your body jackknifes, a scream leaving your lips at the sudden addition, you choke out a warning, “g’na cum! pleasepleaseplease—” and when daniel’s thumb sneaks down to press gently at where you're wrapped snugly around max, almost like he’s trying to slip in alongside his cock—white flashes behind your eyes and you’re cumming hard. 

daniel hums, satisfied, “now, you can cum, maxy.” the younger had already started coming the second he started speaking. it’s erotic—how the two of yours’ orgasm feeds off of each other. every clench of your cunt has you squeezing tightly around max, causing him to thrust in you deeper, which in turn has you pulsating around him tightly, and the cycle continues. max rides out the two of your orgasms viciously this time around, his hips slamming into you, forcing himself as deep as possible wanting to empty every last dreg of his cum within you. you can only whimper brokenly, not making an effort to calm his grinds, wanting to savor anything you can get before he pulls out of you. with max’s last pump of his hips in you, daniel slowly guides him out of you. the two of you hiss, extremely over sensitive from the two times you’ve cum, so daniel tries to make the affair as smooth as he possibly can. with a squelching pop, max is freed from the tight grasp of your cunt, and dan leads him to lie down next to you on the bed.

you’re still floating, not a single thought in your head, a deep sense of satisfaction coating your mind, but you can vaguely hear daniel checking on max, making sure he didn’t push him too far. you hum quietly under your breath, almost like a purr, eyes shut blissfully as you allow yourself to relax in your afterglow. you faintly register daniel slipping in between your legs, his broad shoulders pressed against the underside of your thighs. you feel his left hand gently press at the raw skin of your thigh, and you fuzzily manage to move it over for him, thinking that he’s trying to clean you up. 

daniel can only stare. the pink skin of your hole has turned to a deeper red, with how max bullied your cunt. his mouth falls open, entranced, at the sight of your bruised pussy winking at him, struggling to close, and he moans softly as the pulsing of your cunt starts pushing max’s cum out of you. the creamy, frothy, white fluid slowly sliding out of you and down your ass. his tongue wets his lips—he wants a taste. dan drops the towel he was holding in his right hand, and brings the now empty hand up to spread your lips with a ‘v’ of his fingers. his eyes flick up to your face, and once he sees that you're still floating, he takes a gentle pass over your entrance with two fingers, collecting yours and max’s combined release. he sucks the mess clean, and a groan rumbles through his chest. fuck—he needs more. daniel quickly finds himself breathing softly over your cunt for the second time tonight, and he can feel how your thighs already start shaking at the exhales of his breath against you. he laps his tongue once in a broad stripe over you, and moans depravedly—and then, he pretty much forced to eat you out; why let this go to waste. 

the minute his tongue slips inside you, your thighs slam shut around his head, trying to halt his overeager movements. daniel doesn’t care, he’d happily suffocate in your cunt if it meant he got to eat max’s cum out of you for the last time. when he slips two of his fingers in to coax more of the cum max fucked deep in you out, your hand flies down and tugs at his curls. daniel pulls his mouth away, growling sharply at the pain from the grip of your hand, but he steadfastly dives back in—he’s going to swallow every last drop you’ll give him. “hngh—too much, –anny, can’t take it—my tummy feels weird—it hurts!” daniel’s hips starting grinding against the bed, and he’s made aware of how painfully hard he’s gotten throughout the night; he hasn’t cum once. daniel moans against your cunt, panting against you, “ya got one more f’me right, sweetheart? yeah, ya do—just let me taste you, yeah?” daniel tunes out your cries again, and brushes his nose against your clit as he laves his tongue over you picking up every drop of cum the two of you have spilled on your swollen cunt. his fingers start to curl upwards as he pulls them out, dragging wetness out from the depths of your walls, and you squeal, any pleads that you planned to say have been suddenly erased from your throat at the sudden pain-pleasure that bursts behind your eyes. your core tightens, and you seize against the bed cumming for the third time this night at daniel’s insistence. this is the most intense orgasm all night, and it feels never ending; all of your senses feel like they’re burning hot, nerves tingling from your scalp to your curled toes. what you’ve failed to recognize is that you're gushing all over daniel’s face. he practically gets waterboarded from where he was pressed against your cunt, but once he realizes that he’s made you squirt, he happily starts drinking down each spray of your fluid, uncaring of how his beard is drenched with your release, and how it puddles underneath your ass. 

he swallows you down to the very last drop, plump lips massaging your labia sweetly. he backs off your pussy, switching to your thighs to collect any wetness he missed out on. when your hand tugs at his curls again, pulling him away when the beard burn gets too much, daniel rises to his knees over you. he tugs his cock out of his briefs, the tip flushed the deepest red he’s ever seen it, and it throbs hotly in his grasp. he uses the hand soaked with your squirt to roughly rub himself off, tattooed thigh spasming, and it takes less than ten pumps of his hand before he’s cumming. with every spray of his hot cum that lands against your swollen cunt, your hips jerk—even that feels too much.

when daniel finishes, he moans at the picture he painted on you—would you let him take a picture if he asked? but his fantasy is disrupted when you squirm up the bed, your hand falling to cup protectively over your cunt, thighs tightening around your hand, and you murmur repeatedly, “no more, no more.” max coos quietly from where he’s laying, still just as fucked out as you, but he tries to soothe your cries. he sweetly pulls you into his chest when tears slip out of your eyes, petting at you clumsily, not quite yet having regained complete control of his limbs. “did so good, schatje. daniel did just like he promised—i-if, if you let him clean you up, we can cuddle and go straight to bed, ok? be good, j-just a little longer.”

you sob messily into max’s embrace, but after a few minutes with max and daniel both reassuring you that they’ve finished pulling orgasms out of you, and comfortingly massaging the already setting soreness of your muscles—your cries die down to sniffles, and you slowly spread your legs open for danny. daniel stares at the mess he created this time around, but dismisses the urge to lick it off you; his only goal right now is to properly clean you up, and make sure you go to sleep feeling satisfied and worn-out. as gently as possible, he takes turns wiping both your thighs and cunt, and max’s thighs and cock, switching when either of you says it’s too much. it takes longer than it usually does, but it doesn’t upset daniel as long as it means the two of you are comfortable. 

“okay, okay,” daniel soothes sweetly, “i’m done. you both did so good for me tonight.”

max blushes at the praise, and with a voice as airy as silk, you whisper, “you ‘ere good too, danny—made me feel r’lly good, thank you.” daniel smiles, his heart warming at your sweet words, “thank you, honey. you’re always so sweet to me.”

“now, let’s move this party to the bathroom so both of you can pee, and take a bath before we sleep, i’ll get some snacks for you to eat too,” daniel orders softly, “i took a lot from the two of you tonight—so let me make sure i put you back together, okay?

© httpsserene - do not reupload. photos in header image are from pinterest. mdni divider by @cafekitsune.

[rivalsispunk]

The Interview (Chapter 1 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)

Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (eventual) smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), more warnings added per chapter

Word count: 3.1k

Author’s note: Hello! Long time reader, first time poster! Please be kind but also let me know what you think! Proof read but probs still some mistakes. Not entirely canon, Declan still works for Corinium, Maud has disappeared to god knows where and the rest, well, you’ll have to read to find out :)

© rivalsispunk please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

Chapter One: The Interview

You were going to positively kill Taggie once you returned to the Cotswolds. Only she, your closest friend since you relocated to the country after finishing your university degree six months ago, could convince you to cut your gap year short in favour of interviewing for a personal assistant job at Corinium. And, for her father, Declan O’Hara, no less.

“Oh, go on!” Taggie had pleaded with you over The Priory’s kitchen counter. “I know you’re getting bored out here. You can’t spend all of your days sitting around here, helping me peel the shite out of prawns for dinner parties.”

“Why not?” You plucked a grape from the fruit platter she’d just finished assembling for an event at Freddie and Valerie Jones’ that evening. “I happen to like spending all my time with you. Even if it does mean peeling shite out of crustaceans.” You eyed your friend with faux suspicion. “Are you getting sick of me already?”

“Of course not! I just think you’d be grand at it, that’s all, what with your journalism degree and all,” Taggie explained. “You’ve heard Daddy when he comes home. Always complaining about the sorts he’s had to interview. Plus, he already knows you. That’s ought to win you some points right there.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be all bad,” you confessed, mulling the opportunity over as you chewed through another handful of grapes. It would look amazing on your resume and you’d have a foot in the door at one of the biggest TV networks in the United Kingdom. Plus, it wouldn’t kill you to have a front row seat to Declan in all his glory every single day. You would never mention it to Taggie, but you fancied her dad a rather handsome sod.

“Say you’ll do it. At the very least, for me?” Taggie bat her thick eyelashes at you.

“Fine,” you eventually relented, a smile cracking over your face at the new possibility. “I’ll go in for an interview, but no promises. And I don’t want you convincing him of me either! I want to get this job on my own merit, okay?”

“Convince Daddy of you? Please, he already adores you.” The sentiment spread fire through your chest. Tag rounded the kitchen bench and grabbed you by the hand. “Now let’s find you an outfit! Mummy ought to have left something halfway suitable behind.”

Taggie nor Declan had said much about their absentee matriarch Maud in the recent weeks since she fled the countryside after yet another explosive argument between her and her husband. You knew better than to ask, but you could tell by the way Taggie’s shoulders sagged at the sight of her mother’s partially empty closet that her absence had a somber affect on her.

You’d only been into the main bedroom of The Priory once before, when the room was overtaken by Maud’s florally perfumes and extravagant evening gowns. This time, however, the space was so intrinsically Declan; all heady cedarwood and whisky and smoke. Shirts with patterns of plaid and tartan as well as numerous odd, natural-coloured socks were peppered across armchairs and vanities, while a stack of memoirs sat on his bedside with a full ashtray perched atop. Your heart swelled, and sunk simultaneously, at the thought of Declan being sat up here alone at night, or early of a morning, thumbing through a book while taking slow drags of his cigarette as he let himself be consumed by a life far different to the one he was currently living.

“How about this?” Taggie’s voice ripped through your daydream, forcing you away from thoughts of her father. You peered at the oatmeal-coloured dress she had retrieved from the closet, surprised that Maud owned something so…brown. You’d always known her to wear jewel tones that complimented her flaming red hair. You shook your head, and thus began a cycle of Taggie suggesting an outfit and you shooting it down. Eventually, you agreed to Taggie swapping out your creature comfort jeans and Wham! T-shirt for an old black pencil skirt that you were convinced had given you hives from the way your legs hadn’t stopped itching since you put it on, as well as a silky fuchsia blouse that stretched a little too tight over your breasts. While your friend had done a good job at assuring you that you’d fit right in at the Corinium offices, you weren’t as convinced.

The receptionists, all in latest season fashion with not a hair out of place, had looked you up and down as soon as you stepped foot in the marble foyer, snickering behind your back about your fashion fauxpas once you’d checked in. Sarah Stratton wasn’t as covert with her judgement. As you sat outside Declan’s office, waiting to be called in, Sarah outwardly guffawed when she spotted you across the floor. You’d met her several times in passing at parties and Corinium events you’d previously attended as Taggie’s plus one, and for the most part, she’d kept her observations to herself. But now, as her red heels clip across the carpet, her gaze set right on you with her matching rouge lips upturned. “I would never have expected to see you here, darling!” she coos down at you, reaching for a strand of hair that has slipped in front of your shoulder. “And playing dress ups, no less!” Another laugh tinkers out of her as she twirls your hair around her finger. “Interviewing for the assistant job with Declan, hm?”

You nod with a taut smile and try not to let her comment about you looking god-awfully out of place get to you. Sarah’s eyes shift to Declan’s closed mahogany door and tuts. “Well, good luck, sweetheart. Seems like you’ll need it with the way the rest of those interviews have panned out.”

“Oh, hop off it, Sarah!” an unmistakingly Irish voice barks from your left. Sarah jolts upright and despite the embarrassment that tinges her cheeks pink, still manages throw a sultry smile in Declan’s direction. Your posture matches her pin-straight stature as you side-eye his office. It hadn’t occurred to you that he wasn’t inside, preparing for your interview the way you had been all morning. You’d crafted your pitch of yourself perfectly, complete with ideas and suggestions for potential guests for Declan’s show, anything to set you apart, make you seem even a fraction less useless that the interviewees that came before you. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Where’s James?” he questions Sarah, alluding to the very common knowledge that she and her co-host James Vereker are having an affair. Declan makes a show of raking through his moustache - god, that moustache - then adds with a smirk, “James and better. Probably not two words that should be in the same sentence, eh?” Sarah’s smile plateaus at that, and that stiff upper-lip culture she was dying to marry into takes its place.

“I’m sure I can make myself busy, Declan. Got a show to prepare and all that. Ciao!” She doesn’t look at you again and you’re grateful that Declan starts to speak before you bumblefuck your way through the silence.

“Ciao,” he repeats once Sarah’s out of earshot . “Doubt that leech of a woman’s ever had a decent carbonara, let alone stepped foot in Italy.” he says, offering you the first genuine smile you’ve received all day. “Let’s get to it, shall we?” He swings open his office door and holds an arm out. “After you, love.”

“Thanks.”

You shuffle into the room ahead of him, completely oblivious to the way Declan’s eyes are trained on your arse in a skirt that’s familiar to him, but he’s unsure how. Right now, however, he doesn’t care, because it fits your body so magnificently, as if it were made for you. He fights to ignore the dull throb beneath his trousers while he watches you sit, the black fabric pushed to its limits as it stretches across the globes of your arse.

God, has she always been so… womanly? Declan wonders, then immediately chastises himself for leering so openly at his daughter’s best friend. Yes, she was a few good years older than Taggie, and always a beautiful girl, but he was glad his middle child had finally made a friend amid the shitshow that was the move to the country and his crumbling marriage to Maud. He didn’t need to muddy the waters with pervacious thoughts about the young lass’ curves. If only she’d shown up to his office in her usual ripped jeans and George Michael-adorned tees.

“Everything okay, Mr O’Hara? Should I sit somewhere else?” you ask when you notice Declan frozen in the doorway with a furrow etched in his brow. You immediately start second-guessing yourself and wonder if this was a bad idea after all. You can only imagine everyone else who lost out on this job before you faced that same expression. He shakes his head at you, at himself, then busies himself with straightening his maroon tie as he moves to sit behind his desk. You shift in your seat, trying to thwart of the lingering itch Maud’s skirt has buried into the back of your thigh. You think if you can wriggle just so, you can ward it off for at least the main portion of the interview. While you think your subtle movements go unnoticed by Declan because he’s perusing your resume - impressive, he’d earlier noted in black pen beside details of your internship at The Times - he’s been clocked onto your behaviour since he’d laid eyes on you across the office. Scared shitless, and he doesn’t half know that Sarah’s sneaky comments only added to it, thanks to the way you’re fidgeting with that damned skirt mere metres away from him. If Declan had any less sense in him, any less dignity, he’d have half the mind to tear it straight from your body. Of course, he decides against it and tries a less barbaric approach to settle your nerves.

“No band t-shirt today?”

Now it’s your turn for your brows to knit together. “I’m sorry?” Declan nudges his head in the general direction of your chest and your chin dips in response to see what he’s referring to. There, your vision is flanked with fluorescent pink and a tinge of flesh where the silky material doesn’t quite stretch to cover your breasts between buttons, and you silently curse Taggie for allowing you to wear something so borderline revealing at her father’s workplace. Plus, you were surprised he’d even noticed your usual attire.

“I thought it was best I grow up a bit in the clothing department if I were to go for a job at Corinium,” you confess. Declan doesn’t miss the way the swell of your breasts arch against your shirt when you take a deep breath and fold your arms across yourself. “But now I’m thinking the bright pink was a mistake.”

You peer across the expansive wooden desk expectantly, and Declan pitches his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t ask me! Fashion, clearly, is not my strong suit. All I know is, according to my girls, leaving the house with ladders in your tights is a big no-no unless you’re a gothic or Winona Ryder.”

You chuckle at that, even more so for knowing that his youngest daughter, Caitlin, would be all for half-shredded tights.

Declan looks coy as he sips from his tea. “But if it counts for anything, you look lovely.”

“Well, I should hope you think so. These are your wife’s clothes, after all.” Your confession elicits a splutter from the otherwise put together man in front of you. Tea spouts from his lips across the desk, marring your resume and any other papers with brown stains. You immediately spring into action, scanning the room for a towel, handkerchief, anything that could mop up the mess.

“Sorry, love,” Declan says quietly, thumping a fist against his chest. “Wrong pipe.”

That’s when you see it, a pocket square the same colour as his tie poking from his breast pocket. Without thinking, you lurch across Declan’s desk and pluck it from its resting place, and begin soaking up the liquid. Declan ought to help you, it’s his mess after all, but he’s frozen at the view you’ve awarded him as you lean over. Your cleavage fights against the V cut of Maud’s blouse and Declan can just make out the ripple of a black lace bra below the neckline. He can’t even imagine Maud in that outfit. Right now it’s all so you. His cock stirs at the sight and he can’t help the pained groan that bubbles up his throat.

“Stop,” he breathes in barely a whisper. You don’t, of course, you can’t hear him, and you keep wiping at the desk, your breasts bouncing with every swipe up and down.

“Christ, girl, stop it!” Declan explodes, bolting up from his chair. Thankfully, the height of his desk hides his growing bulge, but it doesn’t matter. The look of pure fear painting your face has the same effect as a cold shower. You sink back into your seat and begin spluttering apologies, that you shouldn’t have used his pocket square, that you were out of line and another dozen variations of sorry, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Declan mirrors you by returning to his chair, raking a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he states eventually. “I don’t give a dying rats arse about the pocket square. It’s just… I’m a bloody fool just standing here while you clean up after me. I can’t have you doing that. You don’t even work for me.”

Despite the shock of Declan’s outburst, you manage to muster up a bit of cheek in response. “I don’t even work for you yet,” you correct him.

Your confidence juts Declan’s eyebrows to his curly hairline and a grin cracks across his face. “Cocky little thing, aren’t ya? Go on then.. tell me why I should hire you.”

You spend the next twenty minutes talking Declan through your university studies and experience, the tension from earlier already forgotten. When Declan mentions he once worked with your media law professor, the conversation detours into the pair of you sharing stories about your experiences with the man, far too senile and set in his ways to do the younger generation any good. The rest of the interview carries on like that, you and Declan laughing and exchanging anecdotes like two friends in the pub rather than an employer vetting a potential employee. You’re about to pitch the idea of getting Farah Fawcett on Declan’s show when the office door thumps open to reveal Corinium’s managing director, Tony Baddingham, at its entryway.

“O’Hara! If you’re done with giggling like a little schoolgirl down here, we’ve got a production meeting to get to,” he bites, barely glancing in your direction. You don’t miss the roll of Declan’s tawny eyes as he waves Tony off.

“Alright, Tony. Give me five, I’m just finishing up here,” he says before introducing you by name.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Baddingham,” you tell him, standing to shake his hand. He doesn’t properly look at you until your palms meet, and your spine stiffens when his beady eyes rake over you.

“One of Declan’s assistant candidates, I presume?” he wonders aloud.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, you’re far prettier than some of the other trolls we’ve had roll through here recently.”

“Tony,” Declan warns. The last thing he wants is another man leering at you like you’re a rite of passage for them.

“Right, well, lovely to meet you,” Tony clasps his other hand over the top of yours, careening his neck so he’s at your eye level. “Hope to see you around here. You’ll definitely be a much-appreciated addition.”

Offering a tight-lipped smile, you reserve the urge bawk in his face. You’ve worked with enough Tony Baddinghams to know his interest in you has nothing to do with your professional ability and everything to do with aesthetics. Fucking men.

For the most part, they sickened you and Declan all the same, but for the latter, he was mainly sickened with himself for wanting to pummel Baddingham for the way he was eye-fucking you. But who was he to talk? He’d been doing the exact same thing just minutes earlier.

When Tony leaves the office, he leaves the door ajar, a reminder that Declan is expected elsewhere. You’re about to ask Declan if Tony is always so…Tony, but he’s already got his briefcase in hand and is ushering you towards the door. “I have to admit, I was surprised when Taggie said you wanted to interview for this position, with you being on a gap year and all,” he confessed as you strolled out onto the office floor. “But you know your stuff. You’re bloody intelligent. Passionate. That’s rare these days.”

“Thank you, Mr O’Hara.”

“Please, call me Declan. Here, and at The Priory. Just Declan,” he smiles and you return it.

“Alright, then. Declan.”

“I’ve got to get going, but I’ll let you know about the job. There’s a couple more interviews on the books in the next few days, I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.”

Declan gives you a curt nod, and you start for the elevator, but you barely make it five steps before he calls you back.

“For what it’s worth, I’d be lucky to have ya here. And like I said, you look great, but I prefer the jeans and t-shirts. They’re much more…you.”

His admission sends your heart thrumming against your ribcage, and red creeps up your neck and onto your cheeks. “Thank you, Mr O’Ha- Declan,” you correct yourself. “Thank you, Declan. See you around.” You turn on your patent black heel, leaving Declan standing there with an image that’s bound to haunt him for nights to come: you in that fucking skirt.

Please let me know if you enjoyed this, and if you’re feeling generous, a lil’ reblog won’t go astray <3

[giuliettagaltieri]

True Crime

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Welcome to your perfect fairy tale life.

Warning: Intoxication and implicit sex

Word Count: 2573

Chapter: 2

Soft sunlight peering from the gaps of your drapes warmed your face, pulling you from your slumber.  For a moment you just stared blankly into the wall, enjoying the peace the morning brought before a yawn forced you to break your staring.  You push your duvet off to sit up and stretch.  Your cat, Lily, presses her little paws on her face and stretches.  She slipped beside you while you were fast asleep.

“Good morning, my love.”  You coo softly at her and she sassily stands and sits by your lap, demanding pets, which you give willingly.  She closes her eyes when you bury your face on her thick white fur.  Showering her with kisses, you had to stop when you felt a sneeze coming in.

Lily meows in protest when you do sneeze, driving her away.  She then meows at you dramatically as she walks in circles in your door.  You roll your eyes at her and get up to open it.

“I put in a cat door so you can use it, silly.” 

You head to your kitchen to give Lily her breakfast.  While she enjoys her breakfast, you stretch once more as you make yourself a cup of coffee.  To romanticize your Saturday morning, you switch on your laptop and connect it to your speaker to start a soft Parisian playlist.

You always appreciate your mornings on Thursdays until Sundays since the other three days of your week are nothing but pure hell.  You work as an OR nurse and although you love your job, standing up for at least eight hours to assist surgeons will never not be tiring.

Well, at least the pay is good.

Feeling ready to start breakfast, you reach for the waffle mix in your cupboard and start on the waffle batter.  You finish the beautiful stack of golden waffles and you top it off with a slice of butter and a drizzle of maple syrup.  You wipe your hands on a napkin to open another tab in your browser so you can listen to the local news but nothing really happens in your quiet town.

After finishing your pancakes and coffee, you clean up your apartment while doing your laundry to be time efficient.  Lily takes a nap in her cat bed, she just recently got over her fear of the vacuum and is now a very good girl whenever you clean up.

Once you’ve steamed your scrub suits and folded your clothes, you freshen up and change into your activewear to run a few laps in the park nearby.  One thing you liked about this town is how the sun is never at its peak.  You can run in the park at midday without fearing for skin cancer.

Lily barely turns her head to you as you get out of your apartment.  You see familiar faces on your way to the park and you smile at them to be polite.  In your three years in this small coastal town, you haven’t exactly made a friend.  You have quite a lot of acquaintances, yes.  But not a friend.  Not the townspeople’s fault of course.  You just like your own company.

Some of the few acquaintances you made outside your workplace are your old nosy landlady who bakes too many cookies.  She comes by once in a while with her retired military dog which she dresses up with cute little bow ties.

The shopkeepers of the town are also very kind, very welcoming when you come to their cozy shops.

It was definitely the life you dreamed of when you were young.  To move somewhere where nobody knows your name.  And it’s great.  You really feel like an adult, standing on your own two feet.  A real independent. 

Sure it’s a bit lonely when you have nobody to celebrate with on holidays or have someone to lean on when work gets a bit tough.  But your job and other responsibilities keep you busy so you can’t dwell much on them.  Lily also does a really good job in keeping you company.

After an hour or so of jogging, you head back to your apartment to grab a quick snack, nothing too filling, just something to keep hunger at bay.  With the sweat coating your skin, you take a long shower to scrub off the sweat and dust that stuck to your skin after you jogged.  With your money mostly going to the bank, you splurged on your skincare routine.  Once your skin is well pampered, you make yourself a quick lunch, just a panini and a glass of cranberry juice to go with it.

You settle yourself on your couch to watch an episode of your favorite tv show because God forbid you eat any meal without watching something.  With your stomach full, you clean up in the kitchen and you clap as you glance at your watch.  It says 12:34 pm.  Time to start.

You head to the guest room in your apartment which you converted into a tiny office.

Last year, you opened an online store.  You started with scrunchies and stickers but now you expanded to a bunch of stationery and tshirts. 

The other guest room was converted into a storage space and is chock-full of boxes filled with your items for restocking while the other is lined with shelves holding your products and on one corner is a long table divided into your office and packing space.  You took a bunch of inspiration from Pinterest but you tried to make it your own space by adding decors that felt most like you.

The online store was not as popular as you hoped but you’re just starting and you really believe you’ll make it if you try long enough.  You even started having regular customers that came back to your store to buy every newly launched product. 

Before you know it, you packed 13 parcels of different sizes, you carefully placed them along with the ones you packed the past days into a trolley basket you bought off the surplus so you can load it in your car.  

If something is to look out of place in your small coastal town, it would be your car.  With the town buildings mostly in muted colors and built with old stone and wooden frames, a patagonia red Mercedes AMG CLE 53 Coupe certainly turned heads the moment it arrived last year.

The townsfolk were not surprised to find out it was yours, considering that you were never seen in badly put together outfits.  Most people in the town either wore old shirts and worn out sweaters.  It was not because they were living in really unfortunate conditions but those clothes, they were easier to put together.  But like anything, the car lost its allure in the slow paced town much quicker than most would have thought, now it just blended in with the town. 

A sweet couple mans the local post office, you always see them wearing identical sweaters.  They both beam when they see your car pull up in their driveway.  You load your parcels in the pushcart available in the post office.  They greet you cheerfully and you greet back, trying to match their energy to no avail.  The husband quickly weighs your parcels while the wife processes it for you.  She tells you how much everything costs after the husband finishes weighing everything.

Hopefully by next year, your business will grow and start having a lot of customers overseas.  But baby steps for now, just as long as they’re in the right direction.

After thanking them, you take your leave.  The air smells faintly like the ocean when you inhale deeply.  You watch your feet clad with wedged slippers as you walk on the cobblestone path on the driveway of the post office.

With lots of time to spare, you get in your car and cruise around, passing by quiet offices and family restaurants that line the heart of your town before it faded to houses and apartments.  Most buildings were already present before your grandparents were even born, thus the old fashioned architecture.

A bunch of kids are playing in the playpark near the only school in your town, most moms were busy chatting with each other in the benches, exchanging local gossip.

The vintage boutiques you’re looking for soon come into view and you park your car to find a bench facing the stores you so adore.  You pull out your sketchbook and pencil case.

Someone is performing with a fiddle nearby, serenading the people of the town and you feel no need to wear your airpods so you set it aside.  Smoothing down your dress, you then sit down on the wooden bench and start sketching rough ideas of new sticker sheets that you plan to launch in the future.

Once you feel satisfied with the Parisian chic inspired sticker sheet, you decide to head to the pub for dinner and some drinks.

Well, it was supposed to be just a quick dinner out in the pub but for some reason you chose to stay.  The other families and couples sitting around you made you feel like you are included.  You hear them talk about their kids’ achievements, hear the bickering of old couples.  After completing your meal, you started on the drinks.  The alcohol started hitting you and you just kept ordering more and more drinks until you’re the only one left in the pub.  You even moved to the barstool so you won’t have to get up everytime Tom the bartender finishes making your drink.

He said he closes whenever he feels like it and he hasn’t kicked you out yet so you just kept ordering.  You said you’d stop when you get a little tipsy as you had to drive home but Tom just makes the best cocktails.  He didn’t tell you it has gone to the point where he’s just waiting for you to sober up, taking his time on making the drinks you ordered, reducing the alcohol in it so you won’t die when you do decide to drive home.

You had only gone to the bathroom to do your business and reapply your lipstick when you saw a stranger sitting on your seat.

Who does he think he is, stealing your seat?

“Hey!”  You call and when he turns around, your face heats up.  You don’t usually get men this attractive in your little town.  “That’s my seat.”  You add before breaking into a hiccup.

He smiles boyishly, making you squirm.  The man says something you can’t quite understand and moves to the barstool next to yours.

The smile on his face was making you nervous for some reason and it’s starting to annoy you.  “What are you smiling at?”  You look at him sharply.  When you see Tom bringing him a drink, you suddenly want some too.  “Tom, I’ll have sour cherry vodka.”

Tom wasn’t quite happy with that, much to your disappointment so you decide to order something that will help you sober up a bit instead.  It has really small alcohol content and you’re happy when Tom makes it despite his comment. 

He also gives you and the stranger a glass of cold water each, making you sigh.  You ordered a hot drink and Tom gave you cold water.  Does he want your teeth to fall off or something?  You watch the sweat drip on the tall glass which you quickly catch with a finger before drawing a cute little heart.  So cute and coquette.

With Tom having his back turned to you to make your drink, you got nobody else to talk to.  You see movement in your periphery so you had the brilliant idea of talking to him.

He’s very cute.  His lips look really soft, you wonder if he uses a chapstick.  You stare at them before looking into his strangely colored eyes.  Such pretty eyes too.

The man has a thick accent you can’t quite place and everything he said was just so appealing and interesting to you, you can’t help but giggle like a teenager. 

Gulping down your drink, you pretend it’s butterbeer from Harry Potter.  Your breath hitches when he places a hand on your cheek and wipes your upper lip.  It felt like something that was pulled out of a romance book or like those romcoms you used to watch when you’re younger.  He had you practically squirming in anticipation in your seat.

You can’t believe this is finally happening to you.  And with a pretty cute guy too!

The moment he calls you ‘baby’ outside the pub, every wall you’ve put up crumbles before your eyes and you surrender to the man.

You gave yourself to him, let him bruise your skin with his kisses and touch.  You were sweating, gripping the sheets for dear life as you let him ravish you.

It was carnality in its purest form.  Just lust taking over your bodies as you spent the night tangled in each other’s bodies.  It was a game of push and pull, his body atop you was rock solid.  Everything about him was rock solid.  His washboard abs, his thighs, his grip, and OH! It was pure ecstasy.

You don’t know when you stopped or if you ever did, that you just lost consciousness in the middle of it all, but when you opened your eyes, everything felt…different.

Why does your head feel like it was dribbled and hit with a baseball bat?  Ugh, even your analogies are mixing up.

You let out a whimper when you tried to move your body.  And when did you get a weighted blanket?  Did you somehow mess up your thermostat?  You never woke up sweating before.  But you feel like you’ve been to the gym doing thighs and hip workout for the entire day yesterday and collapsed right into bed without showering.

Well that can’t be right…You were cleaning your apartment yesterday, jogged for an hour but it doesn’t strain your body like this.  You remember packing the orders, going to the post office, sketching, having dinner and drinks at Tom’s…dinner and drinks at Tom’s…

“OH MY GOD!”  You screamed at the top of your lungs when you turned and saw a naked man literally spooning you.

Your scream alarmed him and he woke up in a panic.  In your rush to get out of bed, you got tangled in the duvet and accidentally rolled off the bed with a loud thump.  You screamed at him to get out repeatedly as you blindly threw your bunny slippers at him.  When both pairs went flying off and missed their target, you switched to your pillows.  You hear him apologizing and running around your room.  You struggle to get up, throat going dry as you screamed and why the fuck is he not leaving yet!

Finally managing to get up, you grab your lampshade and scream.  It must have alerted him because he hopped away from you as he tried to put on his pants and it happened so quickly.  You couldn’t have done anything to help him.  He stumbled and fell on his face.

The thud his body makes was nearly sickening yet so incredibly comical.  You stand still, chest heaving as you clutch your lampshade.  You wait for him to get up but he doesn’t move an inch.

“Holy shit…I killed a man.”

Overdrive

[loveshotzz]

{ trying } a new position with them

I have this in my mind with AIRWIY!Steve, ‘cause I know he’s so soft during sex and you do it in missionary or you ride him, but then you ask him if he will take you from behind (feel free to change) and be a little rough🥹

Hi angel! thank you for your request 💗 I hope you enjoy. This is a request is from my All I Really Want Is You series but can be read as a stand alone.

older!steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ established relationship, smut, dirty talk, cream pie, age gap.

wc: 1.3k

authors note: for those that read the series this takes place during the gap between chapter ten and the epilogue. the relationship is still new and they are trying new things 🧡

Something felt different about tonight.

You think it might’ve been the fancy cocktails that were stronger than normal, and the dim lighting of The Violet Hour that danced across Steve’s sharp features. Or his big hand that stayed high on your thigh through the entirety of dinner. Salt and pepper scruff tickling your cheek every time he leaned in to whisper low in your ear. 

Maybe it was the lemon zest still fresh on his tongue when he licked into your mouth at the end of your date pressing you against your front door. Whatever it was Steve Harrington made your body feel like it was on fire tonight, embers burning in the pit of your stomach waiting to combust with every touch. 

The roll of his hips only stokes the flames when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you after barely making it to your bed, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake. His full weight keeps you pressed into the mattress, with your knee hooked over the crook of his elbow. The tip of him hitting the spot that makes your back arch with every slow stroke over and over again, but god, it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

That loose strand falls damp across his forehead, a bead of sweat dangerously close to falling off the end. His eyes never leave yours, the black of his pupils making the gold and moss colored flecks disappear. Lips brushing with every thrust, the whiskey on his breath mingles with the pineapple on yours, while your nails dig half crescent moons into the constellations on his back.

He shifts hitting a different spot when he drives back in, and it makes your jaw go slack. Steve takes advantage, tracing your top lip with his tongue while the tip of his nose bumps into yours. He starts a slow grind instead of pulling out, the dark thatch of hair that frames the part of him hugged tight by your walls rubs against your clit in a way that has his name sound like a prayer. But it still wasn’t enough. Not even when your hands make their way down, fingers digging into the soft dough of his ass to try and coax him even deeper.

“Fuck - honey,” He grunts, pushing in as far as he can, eyes rolling in the back of his head when you nip at his bottom lip, recently discovering how much he liked it when you did that.

“I need - “ You start but a quick snap of his hips steals the breath out of your lungs for a second.

“What do you need?” His brows furrow when you flutter around him, watching the way your eyes glaze over when he hits that spot again, “tell me, I’ll give it to you, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I - I want- I want you to fuck me from behind.” The words make the grind of his hips falter, the black of his eyes turning into an abyss. 

“Yeah?” Steve sounds breathless when he finally comes back to his body.

Biting your bottom lip between your teeth, all you can do is nod, a shy smile playing at the corners of your mouth despite feeling the twitch of him inside of you. He rolls his hips again, something smug flickering in his eyes when he sees the way it makes your face crumble.

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” He rubs the tip of his nose with yours before he starts to slowly pull out. Cursing under his breath, the feeling of your walls trying to suck him back in is almost enough for him to cum. 

You shudder at the feeling of being so empty when he sits back on his haunches, long fingers wrapping around his cock, stroking himself as he watches you get on all fours for him. He’s never seen you presented to him like this, and he almost cums again in the span of a minute.

“Jesus Christ, look at you.” He sounds wrecked when he talks, and when you peek over your shoulder at him, he looks it too.

Wiggling your hips, his free hand finds the soft fat of your ass, while his strokes with his other get quicker. He squeezes at the dough of it, groaning when he sees the way you’re dripping down your thighs. The precum that leaks from his fat tip mixes with your slick as he drags himself through your folds, a lewd squelching noise filling your room when he does it over and over again. 

“Steve - fuck - please, please.” Your fingers tangle into your sheets, pushing your hips back into his for more when he adds pressure to your bundle of nerves before catching at your entrance.

“Shhh, It’s okay, I got you, I got you.” He coos when the tip of him breaches your walls, both hands finding the curve of your hips. “Gonna take all of me like the tough girl you are, aren’t you baby?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” Too cock drunk not to babble when he pushes half way in, the lingering effects of the drinks you had at dinner has your body ignited. You’ve never felt so full and it’s not even all of him.

“God, you’re so wet. Always so wet for me.” He groans with one final roll of his hips, burying himself as far as he can go, the stretch making you keen the heat inside your belly turning white.

He doesn’t move, letting your body adjust to the length of him like this, fingers digging into the soft skin of your sides hard enough to bruise. Your walls won’t stop clenching and it makes him twitch. He leans over earning him a soft ‘oh’ from you at the feel of him somehow pushing deeper, warm lips trailing kisses up your spine, leaving more over the hard plain of your shoulder blade before stopping at the shell of your ear.

“You ready honey?” 

He can’t see the way the deep baritone makes your eyes hit the back of your head, and all you can do is nod. He gives a smug kind of chuckle that you’ve never heard before, pulling himself back up. His hands squeeze at you one more time, a low breath escaping through his nose while he takes in the sight in front of him. 

“Ste-“ His name dies on your tongue when he pulls almost all the way out, before a rough snap of his hips pushes him all the way back in. “Oh my god!’

Steve’s never heard you make sounds like this for him before and he thinks he might lose his mind, something primal unlocking deep inside his brain. The softness he’s always treated you with is replaced by the animalistic need to fill you to the brim. The springs of your mattress squeak loudly under his knees, the head board he helped you set up after a trip to Ikea smacking against your wall with every harsh thrust. 

“Gonna make you mine, yeah? You want that?” He doesn’t sound like the man who leaves you silly notes with all his gifts, his voice is rough just like his touch. The hair on his thighs rubbing against the wet backs of yours.

“Please, yeah, it’s all - fuck, fuck, yeah it’s all I want Steve, please.” You're babbling now too close to worry about how you sound with your cheek pressed to the mattress as he holds your hips up. The grip on your sheets is tight enough to pull them off the corners of your bed, and the fire that's threatened to consume you finally does when the tip of him hits a spot he’s never found before. “Oh god, i‘m gonna - Steve! -i’mgonnacum!”

He keeps his unrelenting pace watching the way your eyes screw shut, and your jaw go slack. A shudder rolling through your body, toes curling while your walls milk him with the strength of your orgasm. 

“Oh fuck - honey.” Steve’s loud when he paints your insides white, the warmth of him filling you up until it drips down your thighs is enough to make you moan with him at the feel of it, aftershocks running though your fingertips that grasp at anything.

The blunt ends of his nails dig into your hips, his body staying ridgid as he tries to get a grip. Yours is limp in his hands, eyes slowly blinking while everything comes back into focus. When he finally regains enough brain power, he leans forward again, trailing lazy wet kisses up your spine that make the corners of your lips twitch before he stops at your ear.

“So we’re absolutely going to get drinks there again.” 

[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 6

I'm sorry again this one took so long! I'm still not happy with how it turned out but if I hold and try to fix it any longer I'll never post again.

The names suggested for the spider were all so good. I chose Silk, adorable name. Another suggested name was Spider-mite, I think that would be a cute hero name for them.

Reader ages 17 - 18

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

With the last year of highschool coming up Gewn’s been diligently looking for colleges. Her schools have already been picked and her applications ready, she's now helping the two of you. Since her school choices align with all your dreams of escaping Gotham, she's finding both something in New York.

“Try Education Connection. You could get connected," MJ sang from her seat slouched over your desk. “For free.. free with education connection."

“What about this one?” You turn the laptop towards Gwen, grumbling when the rubber foot catches on your blanket, “It looks like the program has good reviews. Journalism, photography and acting...”

As she leans in to see, setting aside the sample of your web. The floor in front of her is scattered with her little notes and tools. She's been interested in what it's made of and has even synthesized it. While it's not so tough that you need something like a batarang to cut, it still works the same. With it you work together to design a web shooter that straps to the wrist. Together the two of you make quite the neat little invention.

“Hey, so, does your spider have a name?" MJ calls out to you, her finger taps gently against the glass causing the creature inside to surry over, investigating the noise. “Like, what do you call them?"

“Huh?" Quirking a brow, you turn away from the info page. “Umm.. My baby..?”

She huffs, spinning about to face you properly, “Seriously? What about a name?!" Crossing her arms she contemplates the strange arachnid meandering about their enclosure, “How about Yuk-yuk? Lil’ Nasty?”

Gwen shakes her head, considering the creatures as well before giving her own, “What about Silk?”

You crawl across your bed and over your desk where your dear pet resides, “Do you like that one?” MJ rolls away as you open the top to pull out the excited spider, “Silk it is."

Besides school, you've been considering starting to make some of your own money. You don't want to stay used to relying on the Wayne's seemingly endless supply of wealth. The possibility of selling your creation crossed your mind but, even if it's not as strong as your webs, it's too much power to let fall into the wrong hands. You'd rather keep it to yourself or at least let Gwen have it, she did come up with the main component. Which she does gratefully, the two of you even try out swings across small gaps and webbing up practice we.

Luckily, there's another one of your hobbies that has a great chance of earning you cash. So, you went digging through your trove of Dynamic Duo pictures. The older ones, that you could bring yourself to part from, were quickly snatched up by obsessive fans and collectors. A few investigation sites took your more recent shots but nothing made you more than getting fresh action shots to news outlets. Besides the bank you were putting away, seeing your work starting to make front pages was nice.

Since it's been working out so well, you'd almost forgotten about the costume. You tested out the type of material that doesn't hamper your cling abilities together once but it had slipped your mind. That was until MJ pulled it from her closet one night with excited jazz hands. She hadn't said anything when she insisted you two spend the night.

MJ waves the suit around as she pushes over her hard work, “I even got Gwen help install this so you can switch on your.. Wall-see-through thingy." She wiggles her fingers over the large white eyes of the mask.

Gwen ushers you out into the hall, suit in hand. “Now go! Put it on! Hurry!" You're all but shoved into the bathroom to change.

Slipping the mask on and adjusting to your face, you look into the mirror for the first time. “This is...” Holy shit, you look like a real vigilante- one that can’t be ignored. The red and blue cut around your form is surprisingly flattering. It looks cool, feels cool, you feel cool. What more could you ask for in a superhero costume?

There's a knock on the door behind Mj call in to you, “It's too tight isn't it? Sorry, i really thought-”

Flinging the door open, carefully not to damage it, “Mj, it's amazing!” You wrap her in a tight hug, carefully not to hurt her, “Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

“So, you're really gonna swing around Gotham like that?” Gwen quips with a chuckle as you release the frazzled ginger from your grasp.

MJ winks, “Take lots of pictures, tiger.”

“Always do."

What started as a test run of your new suit that has quickly turned south when you spotted them. While snapping a few pics of the bat and bird you managed to land yourself right in the heart of a fear toxin explosion. The impending blast caught your danger sense in time but you couldn't get away from the gas fast enough. A scarecrow thug managed to grab you while you were disoriented, sinking their switchblade into your side.

Coughing and sputtering, you manage to push them away, just for them to come back swinging. The knife edge sliced straight through your suit and the skin underneath with each swipe. Stuffing your face into the crook of your elbow, you managed to grab their wrist. Tossing them over your shoulder and their back hits the brick wall behind you before they fall to the ground head first. Giving them one good parting kick you crawl up the wall before they could get up again.

Swinging to a nearby apartment complex, your foot slips on the ledge as you stumble onto your rooftop. Retching the camera from your neck with one hand, you press the other into your weeping side and totter over to where you stashed your bag. The downside of a spandex suit is having absolutely nowhere to put things like your phone. You have to get out of here, you need to get home, you need... “Alfred, please...”

The next time you open your eyes the grimy alleyways of Gotham are replaced with the pristine walls of your modest bedroom in Wayne manor. Sitting up you find yourself free of pain despite the agony of getting attacked. Every scrap and cut is gone, as if they were never there to begin with. Your hand slides under your shirt to find a bandage over the spot that pricks knife got you. Peeling it off you find the gash has healed completely, leaving only the faint sliver of a scar in its wake. Nice.

NO, not nice. How did you get here? Where is your camera? Phone? Suit- YOu rip the blanket from your body, finding yourself in a pair of your pajamas. Fuck! Where the hell is your spider suit?

Jumping out of bed you start scouring your room, your suit or bag or something! Trying to be mindful of your own strength, you sling your door open. If you got home and changed then it must be in the house somewhere. You just have to find it before-

“Looking for something?” Alfred stands on the other side of the door, his arms folded neatly behind his back.

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sight. Your arms flying into the air involuntarily as wips of webs shoot out to dangle from your wrists. “Alfred! Uh..” Coughing away the squeak in your surprised voice doesn't help the lump in your throat. “No, no of course not. Why would- what would I even be looking for anyway?” Shaking off the web you cross your arms tight over your chest.

The old butler cocks his head, “Are you sure, young master?” Pinched between the two fingers on each of his hands is your suit, bloodied and tattered. “So, this isn't yours?”

“How did-?” It feels like the air has been knocked out of your lungs.

“You sure took quite the beating if you can't remember who picked you up last night, patched your wounds, and put you to bed.” His mention conjures the vague memory of being dragged into a car and dumped onto a table with a bright light above. “Though, everything seemed to be mostly healed by the time I got you to the cave. All under your father's nose I'll have you know.”

Shame licks its hot flames up the back of your neck. “Ah, shit-”

“Language.” He corrects.

“Sorry! But, um..” Eyeing the tattered garb, you ask sheepishly, "What are you.. gonna do with it?”

“I will respect your..” One of the old man’s snowy brows raises, deepening the creases of his forehead. He searches for the right words and settles on, “creative decisions in design..” then folds it up as nicely as he can, stony gaze returning to you, “I will not have you running around unprotected.”

Shrinking under his gaze, you couldn't possibly just let MJ's hard work all go to waste, “Please, let me at least hold onto that one. It's.. special.”

The old man's concession was obvious the moment he saw your pleading face. “Well, I suppose so.. After I mend it, that is, young master.”

You can't help throwing your arms around him and he accepts you gladly, “Al.. I don't want him to know...” Sniffling into his suit, he pats your head.

Alfred lets out a heavy sigh and nods, “I understand...”

Nothing could shake the bond the two of you shared. Like the doting grandfather coming around to clean up after his reckless grandchild. He patched your wound, mends your suit, and It takes twice as long as the first but you made due with the patched up one MJ made in the meantime. Not that you're out fighting crime for real.. yet.. and that's not because you're scared after that whole incident.

Of course, when it does arrive, the suit is a work of beauty all over again. The design was faithful to MJ as promised with your eye covers still having the X-ray tech Gwen put in. This time the material is more durable, insulated even, and a few extra features too! You haven't figured them all out yet but you'll get there.

Test run, take two! This time you're not gonna get caught up in some crazy fight. Batman's plethora of super powered villains were tucked away for the moment. That left you free to follow him through the city using one of your new gadgets- a batman tracker. Oh Al, he knows you too well.

Traversing the Gotham rooftops, something peculiar catches your eyes just as you catch up to your target. Golden hair flutters behind her as a young girl leans over the gaps between buildings. Wow, a new Robin already? And a girl, nice! Although it does leave a heavy feeling in your heart. Is Tim okay? He's alive right? Damn kid, why do you have to be so worried about him? God, you wish the little prick wasn't so skittish, you might actually know what's going on. Maybe Alfred knows, he better, you're asking as soon as you get home. If your bastard of a father left another child for dead-

"Woah! Who are you?!”

The sudden sound of the new girl's chipper voice coming from right beside you sends you scrambling up the wall in surprise. "Please, I'm good, promise!"

Mouth hung open, she had to crane her neck to look up at you, “Promise?"

“Uh, yeah.." Shimmying down the wall you extend your hand to her, little finger raised. “P-pinky promise?”

She’s eyeing you behind that mask and you can feel it. Oh yeah, your suspicion as hell and she has every right to tuck tail and run. “Well.. I've definitely never met a bad guy like you.” Luckily for you, she doesn’t seem to think you're a threat and even cracks a smile.

Before you can say more, probably for the better, she’s called away, "Robin. Stay focused." Batman gruff command causes you both to straighten, exchanging waves before parting ways.

“Her name is Stephanie Brown.” Alfred was surprisingly forward with you when you came in flabbergasted and waved a picture of the new Robin.

You couldn't suppress the tight feeling in your chest. “What about Tim?” The old man seemed to know what you were thinking before the words left your mouth.

He pats your back reassuringly, “Don't worry, he's simply been grounded.”

That answer triggered a bout of giggles that had nearly choked you, “G-grounded?” Fuck man and here you were all worried about that little shit.

The hand that had reassured you smacks your trembling shoulder, “It is no laughing matter, young master.”

Shaking your head, you successfully stifle your laughter, “No, no. Of course not..”

OH, you have got to get this on camera a hundred times over. A robin with strong screen presence, style, grace, and, to the bats chagrin, an unstoppable sense of humor. Honestly, you couldn't get enough.

The charm she brings to her role reminds you of watching Jason on his first days and you think the two of you might have even gotten close. It's a shame she's never been introduced to you... technically.

In the quiet moment of a now hectic life, when you're the only one in the manor. When you can feel the despondency of those interminable halls seeping into your bones. When the emptiness of this large house is just too much to bare.

You miss it most.

Having someone to bother at times when your friends were too far or your grandfather too busy. Having somebody who filled the gaps of your most lonesome hours. Who made that hollow house only truly feels like home when you were together. Even when you were left in the dark, like the sun is sure to rise every more, the light never stayed away. The melancholy couldn't get through with the fortissimo of your twain joy when reunited.

You miss your brother.

So, deciding you've been away too long, you decide to make the trip over. Pulling on your suit, and throwing something on over top, you all but fly down the grand staircase. Your heart practically stops when you nearly run head first into Alfred, who you swear wasn't anywhere to be found just a moment ago.. sneaky old bastard.

He seems pensive at first but finally gives, pulling out an envelope. Despite the fact it's sealed, you're sure he knows its contents already.

It's a letter from someone claiming to be your ‘Uncle Ben’ who says he's been looking for you and your mother. He wants to know about how your life has been and if you'd come to New York for a visit. It was vague but strangely well timed, so super suspicious. Yet, something you couldn't quite place gropes your heart the thought. That you had other family, could have those familial bonds you craved but were continuously denied. Maybe, just maybe, you would even be able to find her or at least know something about her. The letter crumples in your grip and Alfred takes your hands in his, gentling your touch.

“Alfred.. Please, don't tell him about this.” A sense of deja vu comes with those words and this time you don't think he'll be so easily convinced.

“Young master, please, understand. The last time a child under my care left to-” You're hands, clasped in his, are given a gentle squeeze, “To search for their mother...” He clears his throat, you've never seen him cry but you can hear the pain in his voice. It hurts to know you've caused it.

“Hey- wait- this is different! So different!” You blurt out your hastily in your own defence, "I know you're worried, but I'll be in New York with my friends anyway! Gwen is touring a college there and even MJ has a few schools she wants us to look at.”

Alfred isn't surprised easily but your words actually seem to take the old man off guard for once, “Is that where you plan to further your education as well?” Shit, right, you haven't told him yet.

“Yes, I am..” You admit with a guilty edge, “We'll all be together. I'm not going out on my own..” Swallowing past the lump form in your throat, you add, "and if my.. family- other family? Is there? I need to know.”

His shoulders slump as he concedes to you, “I beg you, dear. Be safe.”

“Of course, Alfred.” Hugging him tight, easing um when you hear him wheeze, “I'm strong enough now to keep everyone plenty safe.” He shakes his head, returning your affection with a morose sigh.

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

Tag list?!

@butratherbutrather @dorkatron-2000 @mys0cksrwet @nervousalpacalady @notsamaira @facelessisnthere @danir2006 @ryuushou @sirenetheblogger @l3v1us @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @shadowytravelerlover @whatamoodhoney @alittlelostmoonchild @tiarea @tsxukikami @levi-09 @stardustnightfall @antov828 @awawage @kaitense1 @1abi @d3nnji @yhin-gg @ithoughtthinks @cherrydaisymanic @bat1212 @shycreatorreview @mikusamsan @strwberryglass @hebaoffside @kawaiimusiccollection @bunniotomia @wishiwaswritingrn @epicy0n @cristy-101 @timebomb1101 @st4rg1rln @lithiumval @fortunatelydifferentqueen @welpthisisboring @cobwebinacorner @eyeless-kun @the-dumber-scaramouche @moss-in-the-corner @nisarelle @cssammyyarts @ratterpatter @shinning-stars

[tangledupinyellow]

Lakehouse | Chapter One: Sunday | DBF!Joel x F!Reader

authors note: Here it is!!! I can't wait to continue writing this series, the ideas are flowing!

series summary: A week at your family's lake house was supposed to be a fun and relaxing vacation for you... But when your fathers good friend, Joel, tags along, you come to find that this one week will be a lot more fun than you thought.

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, 18+, divorced joel, dbf!joel, girthy age gap (reader is 23, Joel is 56), no outbreak au, language, nicknames (darling, sweetheart), getting a little frisky with Joel in the backseat with your family in the front

chapter summary: You arrive at your childhood home to get ready to head to your family lake house with your sister, dad, and his best friend, Joel. You and Joel have a history, and you’re not ready to let it go.

word count: 3.7k

next chapter✿

┉┉┉

You always hated packing. Folding clothes, picking and choosing what you wanted to keep and leave behind. All it was, was playing Tetris in the smallest suitcase known to man. You would go through all of that only to unpack everything the next day. It was nothing but a pain in the ass.

But now, for what felt like the first time in forever, you were actually eager to pack up your bag and get out of your cramped studio apartment. You wanted to rush yourself out of there, get into your car, and onto the highway. You couldn’t wait one more damn second to feel the wind through your hair on the long and winding road.

At first, you thought spending a week-long vacation with your family would be a nightmare. Especially after just finishing up school, the last thing you wanted was some good clean family fun. All your college friends were going to Vegas for the next two weeks to drink and have the time of their lives. You were invited, but you had to decline. Instead, you had this little family vacation your dad had planned in which you needed to attend. It was a total buzzkill.

You were hesitant, extremely so. But what convinced you at the end of the day, was that Joel was going to be tagging along on the trip. While a week alone with your family sounded like it was a nightmare in hell waiting to happen, spending the time with Joel by your side sounded even better than drinking the night away in Vegas with your friends.

You had first met Joel four years ago, back when you were nineteen at your dad’s birthday party. He hosted a little barbecue in his backyard and invited some family and friends from work. He had introduced you to Joel, and you hated to admit it way back then, but you were smitten from the start.

While Joel was your father’s closest friend, your dad had mentioned that he wanted to invite him to the lakehouse to cheer him up. He had recently just finalized his divorce which had been in the process for years and years. As anyone could imagine, it was a plethora of stress. Your dad thought that bringing him out on this family trip would be the perfect break that he needed. To you, this was the best news that you could ever receive. 

For his age, Joel was a good looking man. With his salt and pepper hair, his magnetic dark brown eyes… your breath got stuck in your chest whenever you would look at him.

But of course, you had kept your distance. You were only nineteen at the time and Joel was in his early fifties. It was clear that he would think you were far too young for him, and you wouldn’t blame him for feeling that way. Even if that wasn’t a factor, he was best buds with none other than your father. He was bound to keep his distance as well. Not to mention the fact that he was married at the time.

However, now that you were 23, you wanted to enjoy having some fun with it. Spending a week at a lake house during the summer gave you the perfect opportunity for just that. There were a few, rather revealing, sundresses that you were packing in your suitcase. Along with the dresses, you put in a couple of bikinis that you were sure were going to catch Joel’s eye.

With a quiet groan, you zipped up your suitcase and stood up, hauling the bag up with you. You slid your sunglasses down on your eyes before checking the time on your phone. It was nearly ten in the morning, and your dad wanted to meet you around noon. You were making perfect time.

A small smirk was on your lips as you locked the door of your apartment, heading down to your car. You couldn’t wait for the next week to unravel. In other words, you couldn’t wait to see Joel.

┉┉┉

The car ride to your hometown went by a lot faster than you were expecting. Maybe it was because of the excitement of seeing your sister, or the eagerness of seeing Joel, but time flew by as you drove with the wind blowing through your hair and the music that was playing so loud it almost busted your car speakers.

When you pulled up to the driveway, you noticed that there were only two other cars parked; your sisters and your dads. Joel must still be on his way. You were disappointed at first by the lack of his car in the driveway, but that disappointment quickly turned into enthusiasm when you realized that gave you an opportunity to pretty up for his arrival. It gave you a chance to fix the tangles out of your hair and change into something more striking, more revealing… just for him. It worked out perfectly.

The moment you stepped out of your car and opened the back seat to grab your luggage, your sister Joanna came running out of the front door with a wide smile on her face, “Need any help with those?” She asked, nodding her head over to the bags that you were lowkey struggling with getting out of the car.

You shook your head and groaned as you pulled the last suitcase out of your car “I think I should be good.” You grunted, not realizing how heavy your bags were and how strong you weren’t.

“You know we’re only going to be gone for like, a week, right?” Joanna chuckled, crossing her arms across her chest.

You picked up the bags and sighed before looking at her in pretend annoyance “It’s calling being prepared, Joanna.” You sassed.

“A little over prepared, but sure.” Joanna mumbled and grabbed one of your suitcases to help despite your previous protest, “Whatever you say.”

You gave her a playful glare over your shoulder before smiling at her, shaking your head as you walked inside the house.

Heading up to your childhood room with your sister, you tossed your suitcase onto your bed. The room was pink and full of flowers on the wall, a lot different than what your apartment looked like nowadays. It was definitely your childhood bedroom…

“Haven’t been in this room forever.” Joanna laughed quietly and shook her head as she looked around the bedroom before sitting down on the corner of the bed next to you.

“Same here.” You agreed and ran a hand through your hair before lying down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You weren’t sure how long you were going to be up here with your sister waiting on Joel, but you hoped it wasn’t long. The only reason that you had left so early in the first place was so that you could see Joel. But instead, you were here in your pink and frilly childhood bedroom with your older sister.

Silence engulfed the room for a long minute before Joanna broke the silence, laying down next to you and craning her head to look over in your direction, “So…” She began, “Uni life treating you well?”

You groaned quietly at her question. She sounded like your grandmother asking the same three questions at Thanksgiving dinner; “Getting good grades in school?”,  “Have you found a job yet?”, and best of all, “Where’s that boyfriend of yours, dear?”. The recipe to the perfect headache.

It made you giggle. But, she was your sister, not your grandmother. She knew you a lot better than anyone else in this world. Better than your dad, better than your closest friends. She was the one person that you felt like you could be completely honest with. She was the only one that knew every little secret and detail about you and your life. There was nothing you could hide from her. There was nothing you wanted to hide from her.

“Full honesty?” You smirked over at her.

She nodded in response, mimicking your smirk. 

“Shitty. Absolutely shitty.” You groaned and tied up your hair with the ponytail you kept on your wrist.

Joanna furrowed her eyebrows at your answer. She was expecting some positivity considering that you were the straight A student in high school when you guys were growing up.

“Huh?” Was all her confused mind was able to come up with.

You chuckled quietly at her reaction before sitting up on the bed, Joanna following your actions.

“I mean, school itself is going fine. I have great friends, I like my little apartment, I’m getting good grades…”

That was the exact answer your sister was looking for.

“Then what’s the issue here?” Your sister interrupted out of pure confusion.

You looked at her with a sigh, “I don’t know if there’s something in the water at the school but, fuck, Jo, all of the guys there are complete douchebags. Every. Single. One.” You emphasized, shaking your head with an eye roll, “I’ve dated here and there, but they’re all just immature assholes.”

Joanna furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at you, “Care to elaborate on that?”

You leaned your head back with an exasperated sigh, “They’re boys. That’s the only way I can put it. They’re boys,” You repeated in pure annoyance, “All they want to do is go out and party, get drunk, cheat, or have sex for a total of two minutes before they finish and pretend you’re not even there.” You scoffed while your sister laughed.

“I’m serious!” You exclaimed with laughter, “It’s so bad. They have absolutely no idea where or what a clit is. They’ll be aggressively rubbing my inner thigh and expect me to cum like that does anything.” You groaned and laid back down on the bed with a ‘thump’.

“I mean, not all guys are like that-”

“No, but most of them are,” It was your turn to interrupt her, “And it’s different for you to say, you’re married.”

“Hey, I’ve been through my fair share of shitty men too before getting married.” Joanna was officially turning on big sister mode which only made you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m so done with guys, I’m tired. I only have one year left of college, I’m sure if I try hard enough I can avoid them.” You told her, looking up at her.

You were tired. You were tired of immature boys trying to hit on you all the time when all they would do is make you cringe up inside. Even just thinking about it made you want to puke. It was exhausting, tiring, and overall, a waste of time. 

Joanna stared at you in silence for a moment before a smirk played its way onto her lips. You narrowed your eyes at her slightly. You knew that look. You didn’t like that look.

“Including Joel?” She teased.

You couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle before shaking your head, “Joel doesn’t count, you know that. He’s not a stupid college boy. He’s different.”

“Ah, I see. You want to get yourself a man.” She continued to tease. You wanted to be annoyed and argue with her, but you couldn’t. Not when she was absolutely right. You were done with college boys, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be single. It didn’t mean that you wanted to be lonely on your weekends off. You wanted someone to share your life with. And some college boy wasn’t going to cut it.

“Now you get it.” You laughed with her and nodded before looking out the window when you heard the sound of a car door close shut.

“Speak of the devil…” Joanna smirked over in your direction while you kept your eyes out the window.

Joel’s truck was outside in the driveway, your dad already out there to greet him with a wide smile on both of their faces. 

You haven’t seen Joel in nearly a year now, but he looked even better than you remembered. 

He was in a short-sleeved navy blue tee and a pair of worn out jeans. His dark wavy hair was messy in his face. But what caught your attention the most was the smile that beamed on his soft lips. The lips that you craved to kiss and softly caress so bad.

“You gonna go say hi?” Your sister looked at you, walking over to the bedroom door.

You thought to yourself for a moment before nodding, grabbing your suitcase, “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. I just need to grab something real quick…” Your voice trailed off slowly as you put your suitcase on the bed.

You waited for your sister to leave before rummaging through the bag, trying to find your favorite yellow sundress. It was simple, short, revealing, everything you could imagine would catch Joel’s eye. It was subtle, but definitely an eye catcher. 

You looked at yourself in your old full body mirror, intentionally pushing up your breasts to show off more cleavage. If Joel didn’t notice you in this, you didn’t know what would.

You tousled up your hair and grinned at yourself in the mirror before trotting down the stairs. At the end of the steps, you saw your father and Joel chatting it up in the living room. Your heart immediately skipped a beat when you heard Joel let out a hearty chuckle at something your dad said. God you missed that contagious laugh. The genuinity of it made your heart soar.

You stayed at the bottom of the steps for a moment longer, listening in on their conversation. It was uninteresting, something about work that you couldn’t care less about. But, watching Joel’s smile, the way his lips would part when he talked… he could be saying the most dull thing in the world and you would still be mesmerized.

“Oh hey there sweet pea, ready to head out here pretty soon?” Your dads southern accent heavily peeked through as he spoke. The two men finally seemed to notice you standing at the end of the stairs.

“Yeah, just waiting on you two.” You chuckled quietly, slowly turning your eyes over to Joel.

Joel remained silent as his eyes bore on you. Your father obviously didn’t bat an eye at what you were wearing, but Joel took immediate notice. His gaze looked at you up and down and you could notice him biting the inside of his cheek. His eyes stayed on your chest for a moment too long before he finally looked away. Joel cleared his throat and shifted in his spot while shoving his thumbs into his front pockets, looking down.

You smirked a little to yourself as you watched him shift uncomfortably in front of your father. The yellow sundress has done its job.

Your dad continued his conversation with Joel, going back to discussing some work issues. But, Joel was already in another world. He had tuned out of the conversation the moment he caught sight of you. His mind was elsewhere. And it was all because of you.

With a smirk, you turned back around and went upstairs to grab your suitcase. You glanced over your shoulder to see Joel watching you intently. In response, you threw him a playful wink. He quickly looked away before your father could notice. He knew that you were trouble, and he was in for a long, long week ahead.

┉┉┉

Before you even got the chance, your sister took the front seat of your dads van. It was a rather cramped car without all the luggage, which just made it even less spacious with bags upon bags pushed in.

You weren’t sure if Joanna had done it on purpose or not, but with her and your dad in the front, it left you and Joel alone together in the back. When she turned over her shoulder and gave you a smirk, you concluded that it was 100% intentional. Your sister was a lot of things, but being a matchmaker was a first for her.

Joel groaned quietly as he ducked his head in to get into the car, trying not to push the bags deeper into your hips. It was extremely cramped in the back seat, but you didn’t mind one bit. The closer that you were to Joel, the better.

He looked over at you with a smile, “You alright?” He asked quietly, getting himself situated in the car “I ain’t suffocating you am I?”

You wished.

“Not at all.” You gave him a gentle smile. 

You noticed him take another quick glance at your breasts now that they were all pushed up from the lack of room in the car. The seatbelt that crossed right in between your breasts made them even more noticeable. Before he thought you noticed, he tore his eyes away and ran a hand through his hair whilst clearing his throat.

“This is going to be a long fuckin’ week, darling…” He muttered quietly to himself, rubbing his temples.

“What was that?” He didn’t think he was loud enough for anybody to hear him.

“Nothin’.”

He knew what you were doing, he wasn’t a fool. It had been nearly a year since he had seen you last and you haven’t changed one bit. You were a tease, you enjoyed pushing him over the edge, you liked pressing his buttons. You knew how to make him crack.

Joel knew this. He wasn’t a stranger to it.

And he knew, that you knew, what you were doing to him. He was aware of what you were trying to do here. He just couldn’t believe that you would do it with your family around. That wasn’t going to stop you like he thought it might.

You were viewing this as your one week in paradise, your one week with Joel. After this, you would have to go back to university with all of the shitty boys that you were stuck with before. You were dreading going back. And so, you were going to make this week worth it. You were going to get Joel alone, you were going to get him in the end. You were determined. And by the way he would steal glances at you throughout the car ride, the way he would look down at your breasts before quickly looking away, the way his leg would tense up and he would shift in his seat any time you grazed his thigh with your hand, you could tell he was struggling to hold back.

Joel would lick his lower lip and give you a warning glare whenever you would squeeze his thigh while your dad was too busy looking at the road. His chest heaved up as he stared at you and shook his head.

“You really shouldn’t be doing that, sweetheart.” Joel leaned down to whisper in your ear. The feeling of his breath on your sensitive skin caused shivers to run down your spine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joel.” You responded with innocence, shaking your head which only got him going even more.

“You know damn well.” He kept his voice lowered so your father and sister wouldn’t hear in the front. His voice was low, stern, domineering. 

You eyed him up and down before giving him a smile, that damn innocent smile that drove him nuts. You slowly moved your hand back up to his thigh to feel his growing erection from his jeans.

Joel kept eye contact with you, not saying a word. He knew that what you were doing with him was risky. But at the same time, he wasn’t doing anything to stop it. He wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to stop it. The only thing that prevented him from doing anything further was the fact that your dad was just in the front seat.

“I don’t believe I do.” You shook your head while staring into his deep brown eyes. Seeing him riled up like this brought you more excitement than you ever thought it would.

Joel narrowed his eyes at you and sighed before shaking his head, turning to look out the window. He needed to distract himself from you before he did something he would later regret.

You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as your dad and sister sat obliviously in the front two seats.

“You’re unbelievable, girl.” Joel muttered quietly while staring out the window, watching the trees go by as you rode down the highway.

You took a quick glance at your family in the front, making sure they weren’t taking any peeks in the back before turning your attention back over to Joel.

Leaning in closer, you gripped his thigh gently, dangerously close to his crotch.

Joel slowly turned his head back over to you, the warning look still in his eyes. Even though he was warning you to be careful, you didn’t want to step down. You wanted to see how far you could get him going until he would crack. Until he would give into the temptation.

The two of you stared at each other in silence while your dad and your sister made small talk up front, absolutely unaware of what you were doing with Joel.

You looked him up and down, watching his chest rise and fall with each steady breath. Looking him in the eyes, you leaned forward and whispered, “Maybe if you’d let me, you’ll get lucky tonight…” you teased in his ear.

Joel struggled to hold back a groan while gripping onto your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin. He shook his head, taking a deep breath.

He was fighting with himself, trying not to let himself lose control while your family was right there. His cock was throbbing in his jeans, eager to teach you a lesson for being so risky in front of your father. Joel already knew this weekend was going to be rough, but you were about to make it damn near impossible for him.

His grip never released on your thigh as his eyes glared into yours. He wasn’t in the mood to play any games with you. Not this time around.

“Watch yourself.”

┉┉┉

taglist♡: @glitterspark @umadirectioner

[ldysmfrst]

Incomplete (1) - A Pull to Where?

Paring: Ateez OT8 x Plus-sized FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 1 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 3,376  

Word count for Story: 3,376  

Genre: Idol Soulmate AU

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This story will contain a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does not really contain anything to warn about. (let me know if I am wrong)

Story Summary: Ateez are soulmates who earned their way to Fame once they found each other. What happens when a new pull comes during their Towards The Light World Tour? Does 8 really make 1?

INCOMPLETE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

“I can’t believe it! We are all here for the LA concert! This will be the first time for us. I am so proud of everything and love you all,” exclaimed Hongjoong. Looking around BMO stadium quickly before the VIP ticket holders came in, he could not believe they finally made it after six years. 

“All thanks to our wonderful Captain,” Seonghwa says as he back-hugs his shortest soulmate. “Did you see the lines are already starting to fill with our Atiny? Are you sure we brought enough Merch for all of them?”

“Don’t worry about that, Hwa. I am sure our management brought what they could. Remember, we have to split it between two shows. Are you sure you are up for this? You haven't taken the time to lament your grandfather’s passing. I am sure Atiny will understand if you cannot make it through the show,” Yeosang comments with a concerned look.

Smiling softly, Seonghwa replies, “Atiny are my light in my darkest times. Right now, performing for them… I feel like I am performing to keep my own light shining inside. I couldn’t do this without them, and want to perform best for this tour to honor my late grandfather.”

“Hwa, he is so proud of you. I can tell,” Hongjoong says, turning his head to kiss Seonghwa on the cheek.

One of the stagehands tells the three soulmates, “You have one hour to get ready for sound check.” 

“Let's head backstage and get ready to charm our Atiny,” Yeosang remarks as he pushes Seonghwa and Hongjoong towards the back. 

As the three missing soulmates make it behind the stage, Seonghwa feels his chest tighten. Dropping his hug on Hongjoong, Seonghwa makes his way to the side, where he can glimpse the lawn where the queue is set up for the merchandise and the standard entry. His eyes search the crowd for something. 

Maybe someone familiar or someone to stand out. 

Seonghwa was the most sensitive of all his soulmates, which is why he was known to Atiny as Momhwa. He always cared for the children (San, Wooyoung, Johngo, Yeosang, Mingi, and Yunho) while the Captain was off doing captain-like things. He was also the one to beg for alone time but then worried 24/7 that the rest of his soulmates were being taken good care of when they weren’t in his eyesight. 

Recently, the kids have grown up, which has allowed Hongjoong and Seonghwa to focus on other things. During this time, Seonghwa noticed that he felt like something was missing, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Looking over the crowds, it felt like something was nearby, but what could it be?

“Hwa-hyung, are you okay? Did you see someone out there?” asked San after noticing the intense look on Seonghwa’s face as he peeked out the gap in the stands. 

Rubbing his chest, Hwa replied, “Yeah… I think so. It just gotta be nerves. Still get them, ya know?” San nodded with a smile. “Being back in LA means so much to Joong-ah, and I don’t want to mess it up.” 

Shrugging off the tightness, Seonghwa went to his chair to prepare for sound check. He took his seat between Mingi and Yunho, who are always inseparable; their idle chatter overtook Hwas's thoughts as they got closer to showtime.

“Good job on the sound check, boys! BE:FIRST is ready to go on, and the rest of the gates will open in five,” called another stagehand as they rushed by.

“Mingi-ah, how is your back? You seemed like you were limping a little,” asked Yunho.

“It’s my chest that feels like… I don’t know, like a burning but not a painful burn,” Mingi answered, rubbing his chest. 

“You too?” San and Seonghwa asked at the same time. The three of them looked at each other with wide eyes. Grabbing the other two, Seonghwa pulled them closer to the rest of the group.

“Hey guys, listen to this. San, tell us what you feel,” ordered Hwa.

“Umm… well, it is like a strap around my chest, and it’s pulling me out of the stadium,” San told the group, “Why, hyung?”

“Mingi?” prompted Hwa.

“Yeah, that’s pretty accurate,” he agreed. Looking over his shoulder at BE:FIRST taking the stage, he rubbed his chest harder. "Whatever it is, it just kicked up a notch, but now it's pulling…”

“Toward the stage, right?” Seonghwa urgently says. “Like it’s pulling us to the other side of the stadium?”

San and Mingi nod in agreement. Seonghwa, however, watches Hongjoong’s confused reaction to this information. 

“Hey guys! First set of costumes now, please!” urges the wardrobe noona. Reluctantly to end the conversation, the members get dressed and head to their positions to start the first of two LA Shows. 

The feeling of pulling intensifies as they take the stage, pulling around the stadium and then towards the crowd. The three who feel this intensity seemingly find themselves consistently on the same side of the stage. So often, when they return for their first intermission, the Captain pulls them aside.

“What is going on with the three of you?” Hongjoong asks urgently. “San, you have to pull it together. You are up next. Focus on all of our Atiny, not just the one side. Remember, the performance for our Atiny comes first. We wouldn’t be here without them. Please don’t make the others feel left out.”

“Sorry, Captain. I will do better. I better hurry and change,” San pouts as he runs toward Wooyoung, who also looks concerned. 

“You two, figure out what is going on. I know you both are sensitive to energies and such. If it is something bad, we need to warn security. Even though we are in Korea, it doesn’t mean they don’t have crazed fans, too,” warns Hongjoong.

“You got it, Hyung. Hwa-hyung and I will try to figure it out, but the performance won’t suffer,” Mingi says confidently. Seonghwa nods in agreement as they change costumes and proceed with part 2 of the concert. 

“Seonghwa, San, Mingi, and Hongjoong, what in the hell is going on with you?” exclaims their manager. “Green room. NOW. All eight of you.”

Thankfully, this is a longer intermission as the eight follow their manager’s orders. Pilling into the room, they notice their following change of costumes is laid out and ready for them. Without hesitation or shyness, the soulmates start to change as the manager comes in, “Talk.”

“Manager-nim, we are trying our hardest, but there is something about that side of the venue that is pulling the three of us,” Seonghwa says, pulling up his pants. “I think there is either someone important over there, either someone we already know or someone we need to know.”

“Only the three of you feel this way?” asks the manager, looking around at the rest of the group. 

The rest of the group nods or voices their agreement as they change. He continues, “If that is the case, then you three must stick together, and the rest of you will entertain the rest of Atiny. See if you can figure out what section this “important person” is in.”

“Yes, manager-nim. Thank you,” San bows with a huge smile. Even though Seonghwa and Mingi were the more sensitive ones, San was the one who could hone in on the source the best of them all. He could technically leave the stage and run around with the manager's permission. 

San glanced at their Captain and Seonghwa with a questioning smile, to which both nodded, and San took off looking for his personal security guard. None of the security guards liked it when the boys would go around Atiny, but they got paid extra, so no complaints were heard. Once they discussed San's route, during which song(s), it was time to get in place. 

Taking a deep breath, San focuses on the pull and latches on. It was time to figure out who or what was causing them such a feeling.

This member of the Demon line was on a hunt. 

“Damn it!” San yelled, throwing his hat against the make-up vanity. 

Wooyoung ran up behind him, pulling the fuming soulmate into his arms. “Sannie, it’s okay. Maybe they left early? Do you still feel them?”

“Yes. Yes, I do, but because of the send-off, we cannot go out there and find out what is happening,” San whined into Wooyoung’s neck as he hugged the slightly younger soulmate. “I know what section the pull is centered on, but what 50-100 seats are in that section alone?”

“Maybe they will be at the send-off or back tomorrow night?” offered Wooyoung.

“Hey, San-ah, thank you for trying,” Seonghwa says, entering the room with the rest of the group. “We had a sold-out stadium, and I am proud of you for getting the section down. We can talk to the arena or Ticketmaster to see if they can share any information with us.”

“You know that is all private information, Hwa-hyung,” chides Jongho. “They can’t give out that information. It probably isn’t anything big. If it was something or someone important, they would have reached out to KQ or RCA Records by now or will soon. Don’t let it bother you much longer.”

“You three need to make sure to get rest for tomorrow, please,” asks Yunho.

San, Hwa, and Mingi sigh at the idea that they can’t find any more information right now. San swears that he almost had it. Mingi knows that it is more important than the others believe. Seonghwa thinks he has finally found what is missing.

Today couldn’t have started any worse! 

First, you were so excited that you didn’t get a proper night's rest because you couldn’t fall asleep, and then you kept waking up, hoping not to sleep through your alarms. 

Second, your car breaks down and won't be ready til Monday, but luckily, it is the dealership's fault, so they give you a rental car. 

Third, your make-up artist, who you paid extra for, is sick, so you get the newbie who can’t do a dramatic eye to save anyone's life.

When you meet up with friends who had pushed you to listen to the K-pop band known as Ateez, things finally turn around. You hadn’t seen the two of them in a couple of years, but because of your mutual delulu (not really) ((well kind of)) love of the eight-membered band coming to Los Angles for their World Tour, you finally got to spend time together pining over some of the hottest men in the world. 

You spent the better part of the first half of 2024 sharing shorts, reels, Facebook posts, and YouTube videos back and forth. Because of those interactions, you realize you don’t have a bias.

True, you did lean towards Seonghwa and San, but then again, you always liked eyes like theirs or Hwa’s unisexual vibes, and even San's boyfriend code made you smile to yourself when he wandered into your daydreams. 

With that in mind, your friends got you a “Baby Atiny Bias package,” which included a photo facecard of San in a cute fuzzy kitty-looking pouch, a SANdeoki mini doll, and a Lightiny with Ateez logo keychain. You shocked them with your excitement to finally have something representing that you were and will always be an Atiny! 

After changing into concert-attending clothes and correcting the failed makeup job, the three of you decided to make your way to the Pop-Up, hoping to get some merch before the concert. This was your first pop-up, and it was at a place called Hello82! By the time you arrived, hardly anything was left, and your friends said you would have better picks at the arena. 

After grabbing some extremely needed coffee due to damn insomnia and the weird dreams of the eight men fawning over you, then some lunch, it was time to head to BMO stadium.

LA traffic sucked on a typical day; add in a K-pop concert, and the Dodgers playing just made it a bajillion times worse. However, parking was a breeze, which was surprising, to say the least. 

That’s when the good times came to a standstill. 

Literally. 

Over three hours of standing in the sun before you finally made it to the front of the merch line, they were sold out of everything you originally wanted besides the Seonghwa picket. So you settled on a sleeveless shirt and the picket.

You decided that you would have to get the Hwa one because you already had all the San stan stuff (s-cubed, you giggled to yourself), and you didn't save up enough to get all eight.

When the three of you needed clarification on which entryway was right, your friend asked a BMO employee, who guided you to the standard line. 

Well, they lied. 

After an hour of waiting in line to go to the standard entrance, you were informed that you actually had floor tickets that required you to enter the other end of the arena.

By this time, BE:FIRST had just taken to the stage, which pissed you off because you loved the new song they collaborated with Ateez on called Hush Hush, and you wanted to support them too. 

Finally making it into the arena, you are still walking to your seats as Ateez takes the stage in their white princely uniforms, making you want to melt on the spot. You weren't normally a lover of white, but you loved them in white. The demon-line looks like angels before their fall right now.

Luckily, the floor tickets came with someone to take you to your seats, so you could at least follow the worker while your eyes never left the stage as Crazy Form kicked off the show. 

Once in your seats, you never used them aside from the strange little intermission video thingies they did. You were standing, yelling, screaming, attempting to sing in Korean, and jumping up and down. You were amazed at the sold-out arena that they had. I'm so lucky to have a master ticket-grabber friend to get these seats.

Spinning around, you noticed another reason for the group to fall even harder: they had American Sign Language interpreters.

With how hard the base was in most of their songs, you knew they had to have a decent following from the Deaf community, and seeing them honor those Atinys almost made you want to cry. Your mom is hard of hearing, so you know ASL also, and your mom was a closet Atiny, but no one will ever know. 

They sang so many songs, and you knew all of them. EEEKK!!

Maybe you were a little obsessed with them over the last two years. But they were mixed in with others like Stray Kids, Astro, ZeroBaseOne, BigOcean, OmegaX, WaveV, and BTS. You had variety in K-pop and even started listening to J-pop and T-pop as well.

As for Western music, don’t ask about anything that happened or who was hot because you hadn’t a clue. Suddenly, the concertgoers around you start screaming their heads off, breaking you out of your inner discussion.

“Look, look! It’s San!” exclaimed your friend Kat while poking you in the side. Pointing over to the section next to you…

There

He

Was

San was there, like… right there, and he was walking this way while singing. 

OUCH

You grip your chest at the sudden tightness. Damn. You knew you would react if you ever got close to any of the K-pop idols you loved, but this was a bit extreme. You lived in LA County. You see actors all the time. It’s no biggy… so why?

Your eyes never left his form as he walked around the section you were in. He is so attentive to all of the Atiny that gain his attention, you notice. Being older than the 7/8s of the group and conscious of the age-haters out there, you sink back, letting the younger fans have their time.

Besides, you are a baby Atiny, and people like your friends Kat and Cindy have wanted to see them since they debuted. Plus, you also had a healthy understanding that they were just people who decided to share their talent with the world. That was another thing you learned living in LA for so long.

“Where did you go?” Cindy asked. “He was right here. You could have gotten some amazing pictures. I bet if you had shown him your SANdeoki, he would have given you at least a high-five.”

Standing back up, you looked around, “Cindy, I am not gonna take his time away from others that are bigger stans than I am. Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, sure, you just got nervous meeting one of your crushes,” Kat teased you. “If Seonghwa came down, you would have spontaneously combusted.”

“I think after the looks she gave Mingi, SanHwa now has competition for their spot as her bias,” Cindy laughed. 

“Oh, quite you two. You guys know that I have a hard time picking my favorites. I have an easier time picking ones that I would have a harder time meeting, like Jongho, Lee Know, or Seokjin. Those guys scare me with their seriousness.”

As the eight members said their goodbyes, your chest got even tighter, and your eyes started to well up. Why does it feel like you are leaving a part of yourself behind?

My goodness.

You had heard of post-concert depression, but you thought that was a joke. You attended a N*SYNC concert as a little girl and even a Creed Concert in college, but you never cried when the show was over. 

That is when you heard the laughing. Looking up at your friends, they are trying their best not to bust a gut as they watch you lamenting over the end of the nearly three-and-a-half-hour show. Glaring at them playfully, you stood up to leave but noticed a group of fans sticking around in a section near the stage.

“What is that for?” you ask.

“Oh, they must have VIP with send-off included,” offers Kat.

“What is a send-off?”

“It’s when the bands come out and meet fans, sign some stuff, take pictures, blah blah blah as they leave the venue they are in,” she clarifies. “Those were sold out before I could get them. Actually, all the VIP stuff was gone in the blink of an eye.”

“Coachella totally boosted their American Atiny numbers,” commented Cindy.

“I almost went to Coachella. You know Bethany? She works with Coachella and a few other festivals around here. She offered me to join the team for the first weekend because they were short-staffed, but I couldn’t swing it,” you said as you headed up the stairs to exit. “I wish I had said yes because she got to meet them all. She says that San and Wooyoung are a total couple, and the Twin Towers are too.”

“Well, I am glad you didn’t go, or I wouldn’t have been able to have our first Ateez concert as a memory, plus YOUR first K-pop concert EVER!!!” screamed Kat!

“Well, now that all of BMO knows,” giggled Cindy.

Laughing along with them, you rub your chest, still feeling a tightness you swear is pulling you to the stage area.

Ignoring the strange and slightly painful pull in your chest because you are not a delulu American sasaeng, you take a deep breath and focus on your photos.

“Holy Shit! I have over 700 photos and videos!”

“Yeah, and wasn’t she just mumbling about not being a sasaeng?” questions Cindy as you get to the car to go home. 

“Well, I have until the Stray Kids concert next year to go through them all and widdle it down to my favorites. That way, I can take 800 of Felix and Bang Chan,” you snark back. 

Buckling up your seat belt, you can’t help but keep your eyes on the BMO Stadium. Your chest gets tighter and tighter as you get farther away. Your mom has always mentioned following your instincts because they would know better than anything your mind will tell you.

So why are your instincts telling you that you left something important behind?

Next

Permanent Taglist - OPEN

@bethanysnow @braveangel777 @danielle143 @elliegrace1999

Series Taglist - OPEN

@nenefix-on @dimeb29

[mirai-e-jump]

TV Life, 5/16/2025 Issue ft. Matsumoto Jin & Hino Yusuke (translations below)

Publication: April 23, 2025

OneLog! Vol.4 (Matsumoto Jin)

-The five of us transforming at the place known as "the holy grounds of tokusatsu" deeply moved me-

Nice to meet you! I'm GozyuEagle and Takehara Kinjiro's Matsumoto Jin. I naturally watched Sentai shows when I was a child, but I also had the impression that they were a gateway to success for aspiring actors, so I was really happy when I was chosen to appear. For my role as Kinjiro, while his appearance is that of a high school student, on the inside, he's actually an 87 year old grandfather, so at first, I felt some pressure as I thought, "Why was I selected for this role?" While playing Kinjiro, I think it's important to create a generation gap with the other Gozyuger members, and to give off the feeling that he doesn't keep up with trends. I'm conscious of the difference in "understanding the vibes of the youth" when performing. While Kinjiro's a "stubborn geezer" by nature, I don't have much of a stubborn side. I myself am the type of person who's quite flexible and tolerable about everything, so I sometimes find it difficult to play the role due to the gap between me and Kinjiro, who's obsessed with a single thing and tends to lose his temper, but I'm working on that through trial and error.

In episode 7, the five of us transformed together for the first time, and the location for the transformation was at the place known as "the holy grounds of tokusatsu." It appeared in the shows I watched when I was younger, so I was deeply moved. It once again made me feel like "I had joined Super Sentai."

I get along really well with all of my costars. We talk all the time in the dressing room and go out for meals together in our private time. Everyone also laughed really hard during costume fitting for the scene in episode 6 where we played house. All of us being together for that made things feel abit chaotic, but once the real performance started, everyone's switches flipped and we were able to film properly! (laughs). Going forward, there'll be episodes focusing on each character, so it'd make me happy if you look forward to it!

Q: In relation to Number One Sentai, what are you most into these days?

A: Muscle training! Mio-kun invited me to the gym, where I initially refused, but then I started going. Recently, my costumes have been getting tighter, so that's not good (laughs). I eat so much, that I'll have two bentos in the morning, so the secret to my health is muscle training and eating alot!

Number One Shot!!: Thank you for your continued support of Gozyuger! A different Number One is decided on each episode, and I'm always excited about it until I receive the script. The Number One showdowns bring out the personalities of each of the five, so please pay attention to what approach they take! _

GavvPare! Vol.17 (Hino Yusuke)

-I reviewed that masterpiece before we filmed episode 31-

Right into the new chapter, Hanto begins searching for Shouma's relatives. Out of consideration for Shouma's feelings of, "I'm scared right now," I think it would've been kinder of him to stop there and say, "Alright, I'd better not then." However, he didn't stop there, and decided to act with the thought of, "Maybe his feelings will change in the future, and there'll come a moment when Shouma can be saved," and I think this was mainly due to the battle with Kamen Rider Bake and the fact that he was able to communicate his true feelings to Shouma. It'd make me happy if the viewers feel that "Hanto's grown up" through all these experiences. On the other hand, things are still as tense as ever between him and Lakia…

Although Shouma and Sachika are the connection between the two, the situation continues with Lakia, who doesn't take too kindly to Hanto, and Hanto, who opposes him. While these two are incompatible, they get caught up in quite a few mishaps after getting stuck together by the mantis mucus (laughs). There's also alot of good paced dialogue, and I was told by Director Kamihoriuchi that "episode 31 was inspired by Home Alone," so before filming, I reviewed Home Alone, where I incorporated comedic elements and adjusted my level of anger as I performed. In contrast to what you've seen during the show, Kohei-kun and I are very close. We get along so well, that I think we would've become good friends even if we had met at school or at a part time job instead of through acting. Including Hide, we'll often go out to eat together, but if I were to compare the relationship between the three of us to a family, Kohei-kun's the oldest son, I'm the second oldest, and Hide's the youngest, so we've got a good balance like that. I truly love them, and they're irreplaceable to me.

Episode 32 will also feature a scene where Lakia and Hanto talk about each other's pasts. The question is, of course, whether the two of them will understand each other after hearing each other's stories, but there's also a scene where Lakia and Hanto leave together while putting on their jackets, which turned out really cool, so look forward to seeing where that appears!

Q: When you hear "Spring," What comes to mind?

A: It'd be hay fever…In my case, it's pretty severe, so I have to drink medicine and use eye drops on a regular basis, and before filming, I'll spray on a pollen repellent so that it won't interfere with my performance. It's painful not only on sunny, warm days, but also the day after a rainy day, so I suffer from pollen all throughout Spring.

Off Shot: The scene in which the two of them get into an unfortunate situation was created with the cooperation of everyone, including Director Kamihoriuchi! It's usually Hanto who goes through a terrible experience, but on this day, the one who had to take a shower after filming was Ko~hei~kun! (laughs).

[itsuki-minamy]

SEVEN STORIES ABOUT "THE BEGINNING"

CHAPTER 1: CHABUDAI CONFERENCE - PLUS ONE (FURUHASHI HIDEYUKI)

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"The old Shiro!"

As he opened the dormitory door, a girl in her underwear jumped up to him.

"H-hi... Ameno-san."

He knew it was a sign of affection, but he still hadn't gotten used to it. Toru waved back hesitantly.

"It's Neko!"

The girl jumped out of the way with the movements of a real cat and ran back into the room.

"Here comes Shiro! The old Shiro!"

The cheerful words were answered by the serious voice of a young man.

"Neko, don't keep calling him that. Respect his personality."

"Kuro is saying something very difficult again... Shiro is Shiro, they're both Shiro!"

"That's not what I mean. Currently, we should call Shiro the "current Shiro", and the "past Shiro" you're talking about is..."

With that, a young man appeared in the doorway. With his long, black hair tied back in a ponytail and his proper movements, he looked like a samurai from a period film.

"Sorry, Hieda Toru. We're still a little confused too."

"No, you can call me whatever is easiest for you, uh... Yatogami-kun."

"It's fine to call me "Kuro". Well, you can call me that whenever you want."

"Yes, someday..."

How many times has this happened already? This awkward exchange repeats itself every time he visits. But it's already familiar to him.

The young man's name is Yatogami Kuro, and like the girl from before, Ameno Miyabi, he lives in a room in the Ashinaka Academy dorm.

The other owner of the room, a young Caucasian man with silver hair, poked his head around the corner.

"It's you, Kuro. It's about time you stopped acting like an outsider. Right, Toru-kun?"

Adolf K. Weissmann. He's a new teacher who will officially take up his position this spring and is currently preparing for his new life with the other two.

Weissmann, Yatogami Kuro, and Ameno Miyabi. These are the three residents gathered in this room. Although they are of different genders and ages:

Ameno Miyabi = "Neko".

Yatogami Kuro = "Kuro".

Weissmann = "Shiro".

They call each other by nicknames, and their close relationship makes them seem like a kind of family.

If that's the case, what position does he hold, being frequently invited to this room and sharing meals and such? Who the hell is he?

Who does "Neko" call "the old Shiro"?

Who does "Kuro" call "Hieda Toru"?

Who does "Shiro" call "Toru-kun"?

If he had to say it, the slightly formal "Hieda Toru" would be the closest thing to shyness. Thinking about it, he doesn't think he's ever been called by his name in a friendly way or recognized as "himself".

In short, he may have been a transparent being without a true identity, both in the past and now.

As he idly pondered this...

"What's up, Hieda Toru? Come in."

Yatogami Kuro called out to him.

"Ah... Excuse me for interrupting."

Coming back to himself, Toru bowed to Kuro again.

"Sorry for inviting me to dinner so many times."

"Well, sorry for calling you to an awkward table so many times, but... actually, I have a favor to ask before dinner today."

Kuro said, frowning.

"This is embarrassing, but... our conversations have become a bit tense. I'd like to hear someone else's opinion."

"Conversation...?"

++++++++++

Weissmann, Kuro, and Miyabi were sitting at a low round table. With Hieda joining in, the "discussion" resumed.

When he asked what they were talking about, it turned out to be a very trivial matter.

First of all, these three people, almost like a family, only recently started living together. They first met around the time of the "Gakuen Island Incident" late last year and spent a few days together, but then had a gap of about a year before seeing each other again, just before the recent "Paranormal Ability Incident". That was just recently.

After the various incidents were resolved, they started living in this dormitory, but it hadn't even been a month.

Toru had heard about it beforehand. And then...

They were "comrades in arms", ​​so to speak, who had been involved in serious terrorist and disaster-like incidents, and together they had been on the brink of death. Although they shared such a strong bond, as the days passed together, they began to notice several inconsistencies in their daily lives.

They each had different upbringings, but Weissmann and Miyabi, in particular, had no idea how to manage their own living space. Everything was neglected.

So cooking, laundry, cleaning, shopping, taking out the trash, and tidying up... Kuro gave instructions on general household chores, but...

"We came to the conclusion that Kuro should take care of those things himself."

Weissmann scratched his head.

"Hmm, exactly. Kuro should do everything.". Miyabi said.

Kuro remained silent.

"Uh, that's not right."

"Well, I don't think it's right. But Kuro is better at everything, and it's as if he's saying, "It's faster to do it than to explain it."."

For every task, like cooking and laundry, Weissmann opined, "Kuro would do it better.", and Miyabi nodded, saying, "Exactly.", so Kuro ended up doing all the housework for the three of them.

"No, that's... the tyranny of the majority vote."

"Sure, that's how it is for the moment. For now, we'll just trust Kuro and learn as we go."

"You're so careless.", Kuro said with a sour face.

"You guys are going to leave this unresolved again."

"Well, I can't say it's not true. Hahaha.", Weissmann said.

"Hmm, exactly like that.", Miyabi said.

Here the conversation stalled again. The dense atmosphere seemed to overwhelm him as well.

Finally,

"Hey, Kuro. What would Ichigen-sama say in a situation like this? Why don't you ask?"

Weissmann suddenly intervened.

"Eh, Ichigen... ah."

Toru had heard that name before. Miwa Ichigen, Kuro's teacher and adoptive father. Although he has passed away, Kuro respects him deeply and often remembers his late teacher's words and uses them as a guide for his actions. It seems to be a kind of routine that encourages Kuro, who tends to stagnate due to his seriousness, to take the next step.

"All right. If you keep bringing it up like this, Ichigen-sama won't be able to rest in peace."

Kuro shook his head.

"I decided on my own to join you. It's my will, but it should also be yours. I won't tolerate you acting like it's none of your business."

"Ah..."

Toru understood the true nature of the subtle discomfort he had felt during the conversation.

Slowly, he raised his hand and asked for permission to speak.

"Uh... Don't you mind doing the housework?"

"Eh?"

With Kuro's attention, Toru continued.

"Just like you, you want everyone to value a dignified life. That's what you're trying to say, right?"

"Mmm..."

Kuro tilted his head slightly and finally murmured.

"Well, I guess that's how it is."

"Ah, that's right. Both Kuro and we confused "I will, I won't" with "I think, I don't think". I see, we have to phrase it properly."

Weissmann straightened up and turned to Kuro.

"Kuro, thank you for always making us delicious food. And for keeping our room and clothes clean. Come on, Neko, you should thank him properly."

"Huh? Mmm..."

Miyabi tilted her head when Weissmann prodded her. She probably thought, "He's giving me something difficult again.". After thinking about it for a while, she murmured.

"The food is... delicious."

"...Okay."

Kuro stood up.

"You can't do it all at once. First, you need to be mindful of your daily behavior and have a grateful heart. Then, little by little, you'll get used to it."

With that, he headed into the kitchen.

"Oh, are you preparing dinner?", Weissmann asked.

"Dinner!" Miyabi said.

"Uh... can I help you with anything?"

Toru tried to get up from his seat.

"No, the guests can sit and chat."

And with that, Kuro stood up and began working alone.

He must have made the preparations. He quickly grilled the fish, served the rice and miso soup, sliced ​​the pickles, and finished serving dinner in no time. With the skill of a professional chef, it certainly seemed like it would be better to leave everything to him than to an amateur.

"Thank you, Toru.", Weissmann said softly.

"With us, it's as if we're passing the problem on to Kuro."

"So you needed an ally for Kuro-kun..."

"It's good to have someone who's an ally, someone understanding, or someone who gives a fair assessment."

"Sure, I try to be fair, but..."

Kuro, holding a plate of grilled fish in both hands, interrupted the conversation.

"However, when it comes to family, I sometimes lose my composure. Hieda Toru, your opinion is valuable."

Kuro bowed to Toru.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd continue watching over us."

"I see. That's my role... I suppose."

A transparent being who is nothing but air wherever he is; that's how he considered himself, but perhaps that's not all bad.

An ethereal spectator who slips into the middle of this makeshift "family". Above all, he feels that therein lies his position, or rather, the meaning of his presence.

"Well, now that we're all convinced, let's eat."

"Ah... yes."

"Okay!"

"Let's have dinner!"

The three and one clasped hands.

"Itadakimasu."

++++++++++

"Since we've become quite friendly, I'd like to discuss Hieda Toru's nickname after this meal. Of course, the decision is his, but first we should share our opinions."

While chewing on his grilled fish, Kuro said this.

"Meow, meow? Another complicated thing..."

Neko pouted.

"Well, everyone, you can call me whatever you want..."

"Come on, Toru-kun."

Weissmann gave a wry smile to the confused Toru.

"Kuro wants to decide important things together."

[heartsandstars34]

Joel Miller Story Chapter 1

Note :

Hi everyone! This is my first time writing a fan fiction since I was like 13, which was 9 years ago! I do not have a title for this story yet, nor an endgame for it so I'll appreciate any feedback! The picture is what I imagined Joel's main picture to be

Synopsis:

After years of failed dating experiences, you decided to try to find someone a bit more mature for your liking.

Content Warnings: Mature themes eventually, but this chapter is safe.

Word Count: 3k

You give up. You believe that you're going to be alone forever.

Ever since you were 18, dating apps have been your best friend. Tinder, Hinge, Bumble, you name it. However, you never found success. You've been on plenty of dates. Some were good, some were bad, and some landed you in their beds for the night.

Men suck.

All of the relationships you've been in have ended for various reasons, but there was one common denominator you discovered.

Maturity.

None of the men you've been with were mature enough. All of them just wanted to relive the college party days, even if they were years behind you. You just turned 30 for gods sake, you're ready to settle down.

You are lying in bed when the ringtone of your phone breaks your deep focus.

"Hello?" you groan

"Tell me all the details from last night girl!"

Sam, your best friend since freshman year of college. You and her have been through all the ups and downs of young adulthood together. You always let her know about any and all dates you go on.

"Terrible! He reminded me of that Jason guy from that one fraternity junior year."

"Ew gross! He was like a walking STD! I wonder what happened to him?"

You shake your head and sigh out a big breath. You decided to tell Sam about the wondering thought that has been going through your head the past week.

"Hey, I need to get your opinion on something and please don't judge me."

"Girl, when have I ever judged you? You can tell me anything!"

You take another deep breath before spilling everything.

"Well, I've been thinking a lot about my dating life and the maturity issue. And um, what's your though on me going a bit older?"

"Older? How old are we talking about, like sugar daddy older or-"

"Oh god no gross!" You cut her off. "I was thinking more like late fourties to early fifties."

"Oh good, I was getting worried there for a bit!"

You shake your head at her even though she cannot see you.

"I think it's totally fine! You know my parents have a 9-year age gap and they are so happy together!"

"That's true." You start to seem a bit hopeful.

"Plus look at all the celebrity couples with age gaps!"

"You're right. It definitely is more normalized."

"A hundred percent! Don't let other people tailor your taste! Plus a touch of grey on a man is pretty sexyyyy"

You laugh at Sam's comment.

"That is true. I think I'm gonna go for it!"

"Go for it! Let me know how everything goes. I gotta go but best of luck!"

You thank her before you hang up. You open up Tinder, your dating app of choice, and click on your dating prefences. You move your age slide from 26-33 all the way to 45-55. You pause for a moment, finger hovering over the save button. You take a deep breath before hitting save.

Alright, here we go.

You start swiping on profiles but no one catches your eye. You decide to take a break and come back later, hoping for some fresh results.

You go about your day doing various tasks around your shitty one bed one bath apartment. Laundry, dishes, and tidying up. While wandering around, you stop to look at your calendar and big red letter your wrote stood out.

RENT DUE MAY 1

"Shit" you whisper to yourself.

You recently quit your office job of 5 years due to terrible work environment. You've been thinking about a career change to make yourself happier. And because of this, you've gone about a month without pay. Which also means you are going to be basically broke after paying for this.

Note to self, look for new job.

Finally at the end of the day, you sit down to eat dinner and open your phone to watch videos. However, your mind and body pull you towards Tinder. You open the app and there he was.

Joel, 50

You take heavy interest in his profile, scrolling through his pictures. He's got beautiful, almost sad, brown eyes with matching brown hair. And grey streaks through it.

You don't even need to see more before you swipe right and that green light illuminates your face.

IT'S A MATCH!

[hbyrde36]

Caught in the Undertow

Hi friends! I'm so sorry for the huge gap between updates. I've moved into a new position at work recently, and while it comes with many perks (hello pay raise), the added responsibilities are MASSIVELY cutting into my writing time so unfortunately updates may continue to come slower than I would like. BUT, please know I love my little stories so so much, and I'd NEVER leave a fic incomplete!

Chapter Seven

WC: 6286 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal Ideation/Depression | Ch 7/10 | AO3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 <-

Eddie pulled the bedroom door shut behind him, letting it slam before leaning his weight back against it. His breath came in pants and gasps, and he tried desperately to catch it as his heart raced, pounding painfully against the fragile walls of his chest.

Steve kissed him.

On the mouth. 

After looking at him—like that. 

Steve kissed him like he was someone special, someone good, someone worth wanting.

Eddie’s lips quirked up into a small, crooked smile remembering the feel of it, soft and warm and inviting. Steve had already started to feel like a kind of home to him. A place of safety and comfort, and his kiss was all of those things and more. 

Sudden laughter forced its way up his throat, bubbling out of his mouth without his permission. Could Steve… 

Did Steve actually, beyond all reason, like him too?

He hiccuped, choking on air as his manic giggles were overcome by shoulder shaking sobs, and he slid to the floor in a long-limbed heap. It felt like he’d been handed everything he could want on a silver platter, and lost it in the same instant. 

Because Eddie knew he didn’t deserve it, that he couldn’t let himself have it. He’d only screw it all up. There was no way he wouldn’t. Then he’d get hurt, and worse, he might hurt Steve too. 

No, if he’d learned anything in this short but also achingly long life, it was better just to not even try.

He should go.

He should pack all his things and run, the way he was always meant to. Away from Hawkins altogether if he wanted to be dramatic, or, at the very least, back home to Wayne. 

There was only one problem. 

He didn’t want to leave.

He didn’t want to give Steve up, and everyone else by extension if he fled like a coward. He liked the way things had been going, the friendship blossoming between them, the trust. 

It was worth everything. 

Worth ignoring the attraction, and forgetting about his late-night fantasies. Worth denying his own growing feelings as best he could. And definitely worth having a difficult conversation. 

At least Steve already knew how fucked up he was. If Eddie could just get him to understand that he wouldn’t be good for him, maybe they could pick up where they left off, as friends, and pretend the kiss had never happened.

He found Steve still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with his head down, body curled in on itself. The sight of him like that made Eddie’s stomach drop, only serving as further proof that Steve wasn’t meant for him. 

One kiss and he’d already blown it.

Though every fiber of his being screamed to book it out the front door before he was noticed, Eddie swallowed the feeling down and crept closer. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Steve muttered near-silently into the space between his knees.

Eddie took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke. “You're not stupid.”

Steve stilled, the only evidence that he’d heard Eddie’s voice at all. He didn’t look up, not even when Eddie sank to the floor next to him, sitting as close as he dared, laying a tentative hand on the other boy’s arm.

“Would you look at me please, Steve?” Eddie begged softly, his throat gone uncomfortably tight.

Slowly, Steve raised his head, his wide, sad eyes searching Eddie’s face. “Are you mad?”

And God if that question wasn’t like a sharp knife in the gut. Only Steve, sweet, sensitive, caring-to-his-own-fucking-detriment Steve Harrington would ask such a thing. 

“Of course not,” Eddie said, willing the truth of it to ring out in his words, but Steve’s face only fell further.

“You’re clearly not happy about it.”

“You surprised me, is all.” A bit of a simplification, but Eddie didn’t know how else to explain it.

“Not the good kind of surprise then—huh?” 

“I just–I don’t understand,” Eddie ground out, in another woefully inadequate explanation of just how lost he was here. Because really—why him? Why now? Didn’t Steve know he could do better? That he deserved someone better? There were so many questions swirling through his mind, not the least of which being… “I thought you were straight?”

Steve dropped his gaze, giving a self-deprecating snort. “Apparently not, or so I’ve realized.”

“Right.” Eddie let his head fall back against the wood of the base cabinet, restraining himself from slamming his skull into it over and over again the way he wanted, until the physical pain was enough to distract from everything else. Despite what was happening, and his own wavering doubts, he was still trying to get better.

To be better.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have…” Steve began, trailing off with a little shake of his head. “I get it, if you hate me now.”

The knife already firmly embedded in Eddie’s core, twisted. “Steve, how could you even think that?”

It took a second, and for Steve to flash him a certain side-long look before it sank in, and Eddie remembered that that’s precisely what he’d done to Steve before.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Eddie said, gritting his teeth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have walked away from you like that. I just needed a minute to think.”

“And what–uh, w-what do you think?” 

“Steve, I’m—” Eddie looked down at his lap, mindlessly fidgeting with his hands as he worked up the courage to say what needed to be said. “Flattered, which is the understatement of the century. You are one of the best people I know. I feel so incredibly lucky to have you as a friend after everything, but I… I can’t do this.” Eddie forced himself to raise up and meet Steve’s eyes again, needing to make absolutely sure there was no misunderstanding between them about this. “And I need you to believe me when I say it has nothing to do with you, this is all me. Okay?”

Steve bobbed his head in a nod, offering a tight lipped smile. “Sure, y-yeah. I get it. No–no problem.”

Eddie did the same as he pushed himself to his feet, reaching out his hand like an olive branch to help Steve up.

For a moment he thought it would be alright, all things considered, but the tension in the room was palpable as they finished dealing with the groceries in silence. It was incredibly awkward, neither of them knowing what to say to the other now. Where before they’d always danced around each other easily, anticipating the other's movements, Eddie felt like he was constantly in the way.

There was something sadly poetic about that. 

It was purely out of panic, the desperate need to ease the thickness in the air, that he asked about having the kids come over that night. Not that he didn’t want to see them—he did—he just hoped he was up for it.

Steve agreed with a similar air of desperation and painfully forced cheerfulness. 

It made Eddie’s insides squirm, knowing they were each faking it for the other, and he couldn’t help wondering if he’d been selfish, making the wrong choice in staying. He thought that by not running he was being brave, but maybe it just made him a different kind of coward.

To no one's surprise, Dustin was the first to arrive hours later, his mother’s car barely rolling to a stop before he was leaping out of it, flying up Steve’s front walk while Eddie watched from the front windows. 

The kid was barely through the door before Eddie pulled him in for a crushing hug, unexpectedly overwhelmed at the sight of his goofy grin, and baby-like face. It was almost as if this were the first time he was seeing Dustin since the younger boy had sat crying in the dirt, holding his hand while he bled out in the Upside Down. Eddie’s memories of the last get-together were hazy at best, twisted and dark at worst.

Honestly, he tried to just not think about it, or the weeks of wallowing that had preceded it, preferring to block it all out as best he could.

He squeezed Dustin a little tighter before finally letting go, neither acknowledging the longer than necessary greeting or the way Eddie sniffled a little as they separated, something he was immeasurably grateful for.

The rest of the party arrived shortly after, dropped off by Mrs. Wheeler, who gave a tentative wave when she spotted Eddie’s form in the doorway, highlighted by the overhead porch light. It was stiff and unsure, but a wave nonetheless. More than he expected. Maybe public sentiment would change eventually, or maybe Mike was just enough of a little shit that his mom was willing to take the risk of letting him hang out with a formerly suspected murderer if it got him and his friends out of her house.

When the living room was full of the annoying precious voices of their young friends talking over each other and arguing about the choice of movie for the night, Steve finally poked his head out to say hello. He’d been hiding in the kitchen under the guise of cleaning and prepping snacks or whatever, but Eddie knew it was only an excuse. That kitchen had been spotless hours ago. 

It was always spotless. 

Steve was avoiding him, not that he blamed him, but it still stung.

“Did you little shits come to a decision yet?” Eddie asked, partly to distract himself, partly to get this show on the road. Normally he thrived in noise and chaos but tonight it had him feeling a little on edge.

Max huffed. “No, apparently we need a tie-breaker.”

“Okay, say no more. What are my choices?”

“Legend or Teen Wolf,” Dustin said.

“Legend, obviously,” Eddie scoffed. Because who in their right mind would choose to watch Marty McFly turn into an overgrown basketball playing mutt, when Tim Curry as Darkness was right there?! 

His quick reply was immediately followed by Steve’s equally resolute shout of, “Teen Wolf!”

Lucas turned to Max with a proud smirk. “I told you we’d need Robin.”

“Where is she anyway?” Dustin asked.

Right on cue, there was a crash in the foyer as the front door burst open, banging hard against the wall.

“Sorry I'm late!” Robin called out, skidding around the corner. The plastic bag full of candy she held, clearly ‘borrowed’ from Family Video, slipped from her hand, the contents of it spilling out across the carpet.

When she crouched to the floor to collect the dozen-or-so little boxes, Eddie started to get up from the couch to help, but hesitated as Steve leapt to her aid, the two of them having some kind of silent conversation with their eyes, ending with Steve asking her to help him with something in the kitchen.

Subtle, Steve. Real subtle.

But before the two of them could actually escape, Dustin let out a disgusted groan. “Duuuuude, can’t you two make out some other time?”

“Yeah! We’ve been waiting.” Erica added.

Were they serious?

Not that Eddie necessarily expected the teens to have picked up on Robin’s inclinations the way that he had, but if you spent more than a few minutes in the dynamic duo’s presence it was clear they were closer to brother and sister than anything even remotely resembling romantic partners.

Steve let out a long-suffering sigh, throwing his hands up. “How many times, Henderson? How many times do we have to tell you we’re not—it’s never going to happen!” He spared Eddie a worried glance, as if afraid he might believe Dustin’s nonsense. 

Like Eddie would have any right to care after rejecting him that morning.

“But you’re both single! You drive her everywhere… and y’know, you’re a boy, she's a girl,” Dustin pointed out.

Lucas nodded in agreement. “He’s got a point, Steve. You are always together.”

“I think you and Robin make a cute couple,” El said, smiling innocently. Mike, sitting beside her, only crossed his arms over his chest, looking extra surly, while Will on her other side, was similarly silent, but more of the quietly amused variety.

As Eddie watched it all unfold, he couldn’t help noticing that while everyone else was zeroing in on Steve and Robin, Max was looking at him, her eyes narrowed and strangely suspicious. He cleared his throat, tugging his t-shirt collar away from a suddenly clammy neck.

“C’mon guys,” Robin said, laughing nervously. “We’re not—”

Unable to take it anymore, and maybe looking to avoid a certain redhead’s x-ray vision, Eddie jumped in. “Let me get this straight,” he started, facing Dustin since he seemed to be the ringleader of this particular circus act. “Are you saying men and women can’t be just friends?” 

Dustin rolled his eyes. “No, but—”

“And doesn’t Steve drive all of you everywhere? Like, all the time?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Gee, you sure do spend a lot of time with Max. Should I start bugging you about it?”

“Hey!” Lucas shouted, indignant.

Steve snorted, covering his mouth a little too late to stop it from slipping out. Eddie grinned, forgetting their earlier awkwardness, and turned to throw him a wink over his shoulder.

“That’s ridiculous, we’re just friends!” Dustin insisted. “She's with Lucas! And I have a girlfriend!”

Eddie tilted his head, blowing out a long breath. “I don't know. I mean, we’ve never actually met Suzy. Do you expect me to just take your word for it that you’re not secretly canoodling with your very close female friend?”

Erica wrinkled her nose. “Ew, don’t say canoodling!”

“Technically some of us did meet—” Mike started to say until Eddie cut him a hard glare.

Dustin scowled, sinking back into the couch with his arms crossed. “Okay! Fine! You’ve made your point.” 

“Good,” Eddie said, with a definitive nod.

“I would never do something to hurt the party like that,” Dustin grumbled under his breath. “For the record.” 

Steve offered Eddie a small, grateful smile before finally fleeing the room with Robin in tow.

With the boredom of waiting returned in full force, the boys' volume did the same, their conversation turning to D&D and something about the last time they’d all attempted to play together before Will moved away. Eddie tried to follow along, but he was out more than he was in, too busy wondering what Steve needed to talk to Robin about in private so badly. 

Him probably.

So really, it wasn’t Eddie’s fault for absently agreeing to whatever Dustin had just said.

“Sure, kid. Whatever you want.”

All at once the room fell blessedly silent.

“Wait, really?!” Dustin squeaked.

Uh oh.

Eddie’s eyes darted from one eager face to another, and he knew he was screwed when even Mike looked moderately interested. “Remind me what I've just signed myself up for again?”

With a smug grin, Dustin informed him that he’d agreed to run a one shot for them, and to call Jeff, Gareth, and Grant to ask them to join too.

“Don’t worry though, Max and El said they’d just watch.”

“And maybe not even that!” Max said, her voice full of sarcastic glee.

Eddie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if the number of players was the issue. Reflexively, he opened his mouth to say ‘no way’, but remembered the borrowed notebook he had hidden away upstairs, a carefully thought out adventure already well into the making on its pages. 

“Actually,” he began after a beat. “I’ve been working on something that would be perfect.”

“When could we play?” Will asked excitedly, speaking up for the first time since Eddie had met him.

“Give me a few weeks to get ready, kid, and I promise it’ll blow your minds.”

With matching grins and buzzing excitement, Will, Dustin, and Lucas shared high fives, but their celebration was quickly cut off by the resident negative Nancy of the younger set.

…No fault to his actual sister, Nancy. 

“I don’t know what you’re all so happy about,” Mike spat. “My mom said no more basement and Eddie isn’t allowed in the school. Where would we even go?”

Before Eddie could reply that he’d work it out somehow, even if it meant squeezing them all into his small trailer for an afternoon, an approaching voice spoke up. 

“You could play here,” Steve offered, as he and Robin strode back into the room, arms laden with overflowing bowls of popcorn.

Eddie bit his lip. Even as Dustin was already thanking Steve, he had to ask, “are you sure?” 

Who knew what things would look like in a few weeks. If Eddie would still be staying there, or if Steve would have had enough of him by then and kicked him to the curb. What if they never got over that stupid kiss?

Would they even still be friends?

“Yeah, It’ll be fine,” Steve answered, quickly tacking on, “It’ll be great.” 

Eddie couldn't help feeling like Steve was talking about more than just a game of D&D. 

He wanted to believe things between them would be fine, really he did, but as the chatter stopped and the movie started—Teen Wolf, because Robin was an ungrateful traitor—and Eddie settled deeper into his spot on the couch surrounded by children, with Steve sitting clear across the room, cramming himself into an over-sized arm chair with Robin, the distance felt like a visible representation of the rift he’d caused between them this morning.

This is what he’d wanted though, Eddie reminded himself.

Some space. A buffer. 

Not wanted, exactly, but it’s what he knew needed to happen. A fact that didn’t make it suck any less. 

Eddie tried to relax, turn his brain off, and enjoy the mindless entertainment playing out in front of him, but no matter how hard he concentrated on the screen, his gaze always managed to wander over to Steve, who was steadfastly staring, unblinking at the TV. 

When it got so bad that he’d completely lost the non-existent plot of the movie, he pushed himself to his feet, making a beeline to the other room. 

What he wanted was a stiff drink, but he’d settle for a soda, and maybe some fresh air and a smoke.

Eddie yanked the fridge door open forcefully, the cool air coming out of it washing over him. Instead of bringing relief, the sudden chill sent shivers down his spine. His vision swam as unease made his stomach turn sour, and out of nowhere he had the strangest feeling of being untethered from his body. 

He must have stood in front of this damn thing a million times since that night, when he’d stumbled into the kitchen drunk off his ass after breaking into the fancy liquor cabinet in what he now knew was Steve’s dad’s office, still angry at the world, still wanting to die as he screamed his frustration right in Steve’s face.

But for some reason, this time he found himself being forcibly flung back to those awful moments.

Hard as he worked to shut it all down, the memories kept coming, repeating over and over again in a relentless onslaught as he gripped the handle of the refrigerator hard enough to make the plastic creak. 

“Jesus H. Christ. What a meddling pack of fucking do-gooders you are. So what if they’re after me. Who cares?” “Maybe I don’t want to sleep it off!” “You should have fucking left me there!”

A renewed sense of shame and guilt flooded him in a wave, like it had been building all this time while he’d been ignoring it, thinking—hoping it would go away.

“Open the door, Eddie.” “Fuck off.” “Unlock this fucking door or I’ll break it down.” “You’re not gonna break your own door down.” “Try me.”

How could he have almost done… that, here? Where his friends, where Steve would have had to see it, would have had to clean up the mess?

Would have had to tell Wayne what Eddie’d done. 

Someone who cared about him, who’d liked him enough to kiss him, after everything. 

And still, ashamed and regretful or not, Eddie knew it would be so easy for that switch inside him to flip again.

“Eddie?” A gentle voice called from what seemed like miles away.

Warm pressure on Eddie’s lower back startled him back to the present. He sucked in a breath as he jumped, spinning around to come face to face with Steve. 

One look into those worried hazel eyes was all it took for the dam to break, sending silent tears streaming down Eddie’s cheeks. 

Steve didn’t hesitate to wrap him up in his arms, and just like he did at night to calm him from his nightmares, Steve murmured soft soothing comfort into his ear as he held him tight. “Just breathe, Eddie. It’s okay. I've got you.”

He hadn’t even known he was holding it, but on Steve’s quiet command he took slow deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth until his face was dry and he felt like he was solidly back in his own body again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but didn’t let go as he pulled back enough to meet Eddie’s eyes again. “There you are,” he said with a tentative smile. “Do you want me to send everyone home?”

“No,” Eddie said too quickly, with a jerky shake of his head.

Steve only raised an eyebrow. 

If he was honest, he did want that, but he didn’t want to be the cause of another ruined night, and in the back of his mind he was a little afraid that if he kept pushing people away, they’d stop coming back.

“I don’t know what happened, it… it was kinda like a flashback? But I swear it’s fine now. I’m fine.”

It was clear in the stiffness of his body, the ever present concern in his eyes, and the fact that he still held Eddie in his arms, that Steve didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue, only followed close behind as Eddie made his way back out to the darkened living room, their friends faces lit by the flickering glow of the TV.

Soon enough the credits were rolling, and predictably no one made any moves to leave. Chants for a second movie began and by then, Eddie was game. He felt much better after his little breakdown in the kitchen, and it didn’t hurt that while they were gone Robin had taken his seat, so she could braid Max’s hair. 

Spending another hour and a half smashed together in the big chair with Steve sounded like a fine time, and it would have been, if he hadn’t fallen asleep five minutes in.

Eddie blamed the fading adrenaline.

He woke up alone in the chair just as a Steve sized shadow was throwing a blanket over a snoring Dustin-shaped lump, and pulling Robin to her feet, the room around them completely dark now save for the moonlight trickling in through the front windows. 

“Talked you into a sleepover, did they?” Eddie asked once he, Steve, and Robin were on the stairs and safely out of earshot from the sleeping teens.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head like he was annoyed, but a fond grin played along his pink lips. “Hard to say no when they’d already told their parents.”

“Oh dude,” Eddie chuckled softly, bumping his shoulder into Steve’s as they reached the top of the landing. “You’re such a pushover.”

“Maybe if someone had been awake to back me up,” Steve said, bumping him in return.

Robin pushed past them in a rush when they separated, waving a hand over her head as she went right for Eddie’s door. “I’m gonna crash in the guest room,” she mumbled out through a yawn. “See you dinguses in the morning.”

Eddie stood, mouth agape, watching as she shut and locked the door behind her.

“Oh,” Steve began, looking hesitantly between his own room and Eddie’s face. “I-I didn’t think… You take my bed. I can sleep on the floor if you—” 

“Steve,” Eddie cut in. He could already see Steve shrinking in on himself, tension making his shoulders rise up to his ears, and that had to stop right now. “We've been sharing a bed for at least half of every night for a while now.”

Steve shifted his weight from one foot to the other, staring down at the rug. “Yeah, but I thought you might be uncomfortable now, after—”

“I’m not, if you’re not,” Eddie said, taking his hand and squeezing it. 

Steve instantly relaxed. “Okay, let’s get some sleep.” 

Out of habit, Eddie assumed, born from all the nights leading up to now, Steve’s arms slid around his waist as they got settled in Steve’s bed, much larger and more plush than the one in the guest room, and for a moment they fit together as they always had, like matching puzzle pieces.

“Sorry,” Steve whispered, and started to pull back. 

Eddie held his tongue, wishing for the strength to let Steve let go, but he just… he wanted the comfort—needed it, like he needed air. Without a word he grabbed for Steve’s wrists under the covers, pulling his arms right back to where they were.

He silently promised himself that this would be the last time. After tonight he’d learn to sleep on his own again. Somehow he’d stop himself from waking up screaming, summoning Steve to his side. Somehow he’d learn how to be alone again. This was only temporary, after all.

He had to stay strong, keep a little distance—

Steve let out a contented sigh at his back, his hold on Eddie tightening as his warm breath ghosted over the back of Eddie’s neck.

—Emotionally.

It wasn’t long before Eddie himself fell into a dreamless, and more importantly nightmare-less sleep, for the first time since his night terrors had begun.

In the days following the big sleepover Eddie did not, in fact, move back into his own room. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who had a peaceful night’s rest, and the benefit of them both being spared horrific dreams night after night far outweighed anything else, at least for now.

And whether it had something to do with starting their nights out in the same bed together on purpose or not, their shows of physical… whatever you wanted to call it, started to bleed into the day too. 

Eddie couldn’t even lay the blame on Steve. He literally couldn't stop touching the other boy either. No matter where they were or what they were doing, if they were in the same room, they were touching. 

He tried to resist at first, for all the reasons he knew he should, but it was too easy to give in. They’d already been cuddling every single night, at one point or another, this was just an extension of that, without the nightmares and darkness for cover. They were friends, and platonic cuddling was totally a thing—right? 

If it bothered Steve, he didn’t show it, and Eddie was under no illusions. It didn’t change anything, and if it made them both feel better, then what was the harm? 

A little heartbreak between friends?

It was all fine enough, until it wasn’t.

Eddie’d been having such a good dream. The best dream. It was so real that he could practically taste the skin of Steve’s inner thigh, the tickle of fine hair brushing along his chin as he trailed kisses further and further up to where Steve stood hard and aching before him. And when they changed positions, it was almost like he was really feeling the plush roundness of Steve’s ass as he ground into him from behind.

Because he was.

Fuck.

Eddie’s eyes snapped open at the realization, and sure enough his body was curled tightly around Steve, spooning him from behind, cock hard where it was pressed against Steve’s cheeks.

He threw himself violently from the bed, making no effort to not wake Steve, the only thing on his mind to get the fuck out of this room immediately, lock himself in the bathroom, and take a very fast, very cold shower.

Steve’s door stood open when he crept back out into the hall, his bed empty and the smell of coffee drifting up from the kitchen.

He took his time getting dressed but eventually Eddie had no choice but to pad downstairs and face the music. He sat quietly at the counter, like he did most days, feeling absolutely mortified. 

Steve slid a mug in front of him like normal, The same one he used every day. His mug, like he belonged there. 

As if he hadn’t just crossed a huge line. 

Maybe Steve somehow hadn’t noticed being literally dry humped in his sleep? It didn’t really matter one way or another, it didn’t change the fact that it’d happened, and Eddie knew that meant his time was up.

Eddie wrapped his shaking hands around the mug, warming them, and took a small sip of the bitter drink as he struggled to find his words. “Listen, I—” he began, gaze trained down on the countertop. God, he couldn’t even bring himself to meet Steve’s eyes over his cup. “I can’t tell you how much being here has meant to me. Everything you’ve done, it’s so…”

“I didn’t really do anything,” Steve countered. “I was just here.”

“Sometimes that’s all you need,” Eddie went on. “Someone to just be there. No one but Wayne has ever taken care of me the way you did. But I’m doing better now, and I think I should go home before I overstay my welcome. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than babysit—”

“I get it,” Steve cut in quietly. “You don’t have to explain. I’m surprised you stayed at all after I practically threw myself at you the other day. And you’re right, you don’t need me anymore. I’m just holding you back now, if anything.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. “How the hell do you figure that?”

Now it was Steve who looked uncomfortable, glancing away as he hunched his shoulders. “N-nothing, sorry. It doesn’t matter.”

“Steve?”

Steve sighed, the sound bearing a heavy weight, sad and resigned. “It gets… lonely in this house sometimes. I wanted you to stay if it would help, but I was also being selfish. You make it all feel less—empty.“

It hit Eddie suddenly, something Wayne had said to him a while back. That Steve needed him every bit as much as he needed Steve. They’d both been so focused on Eddie’s issues this whole time that he’d sort of forgotten that. And though he’d never admit it to the old man’s face, Uncle Wayne was hardly ever wrong.

He could deal with the embarrassing consequences of sticking around later, as well as his probable battered heart as he continued to fall for someone he couldn’t have. Now It was Eddie’s turn to be a good friend, to suck it up and be there for Steve the way he was always there for everyone else.

“Okay, then. I’m staying.”

“No. I didn’t mean to…” Steve trailed off, setting his coffee cup down to wave his hands. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” Eddie insisted, injecting every bit of sincerity he could into the words. “I thought I should give you your space back, but if you still want me here, I’ll stay a while longer.”

It was the truth, maybe not the whole truth, but enough.

“Okay, yeah. That’s, um—yes.”

“Glad that’s settled.” Eddie upended his own mug, draining the rest of his coffee before it cooled. “So, what’s the plan for today?

“Robin’s been bugging me to hang out again ever since the other night, so I was thinking about taking her to lunch or something. Would you want to come?”

“No, I'm good here. I should really keep working on the new campaign anyway since I promised the kids. Sounds like you two need some one-on-one time anyway.”

Eddie really did try to work on his plans, but it wasn’t long before he became restless, winding up in Steve’s room for some unknown reason.

Fine, he was snooping. 

But that wasn’t the only reason, was it? He missed Steve. The other boy had only been gone for like an hour and Eddie was already acting like a listless housewife waiting for her husband to return from war.

This was officially getting out of hand.

What had he been thinking earlier telling Steve he’d stay?! Every moment he delayed returning to reality would only make it all worse in the long run. To be so close to Steve but not let himself be with him. It was becoming it’s own kind of self-harm, bordering on torture.

Friends didn’t sleep in the same bed every night, no matter what Eddie’d been telling himself. He had to stop living in this fantasy world before he did something reckless and dumb. 

He hurled himself down onto Steve’s bed. Half of his body actually landed on the bed, while the rest hung off the edge, his hair pooling on the carpet below. He glanced around the room lazily as blood rushed to his head, leaving him pleasantly dizzy. Everything looked a little different from this angle. Except for that fucking wallpaper. How was he this gone on a guy who could just live with wallpaper like that? 

With a loud, heartfelt groan he rolled over onto his stomach, head still hanging down and finally spotted something… curious. 

There under the bed, partially hidden behind a deflated basketball and a small collection of forgotten socks, was a plain cardboard box. Nothing remarkable about that, except that the bottom corner was stained the dark rust of old blood, as if it had soaked in it and dried.

Eddie slid gracelessly down to the floor head first, crawling half way under the bed to pull the box out into the light. He was uncomfortably aware that this was a total violation of Steve’s privacy, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from opening the flaps, and was completely unprepared for what he found. 

Tucked inside, folded neatly despite the fact that it was covered in blood and filth, was his own denim battle vest, the one he’d chucked impulsively at Steve. The various buttons and patches were worse for wear, but all still present and accounted for. It was… nice that Steve had held onto it, but why hadn’t he said anything? 

Why hide it away like this? 

Eddie set the vest aside to see what else Steve had seen fit to squirrel away, finding what looked like the same tactical pants and jacket that Steve had been wearing when he went off to fight Vecna, all covered in the same dark dried blood that had no doubt seeped into the cardboard that held it.

He was still sitting there on the floor, staring in confused disbelief at the open box when a shadow fell over the bedroom door, drawing his attention.

“Oh–” Steve gasped, his face draining of all color as he took in Eddie’s position and what lay in front of him. “Um… I can explain?”

Eddie didn’t know what to think, and could only continue to look up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Okay, I don’t know if I have, like, a good explanation, but—” Steve blew out a long breath, raking a hand nervously through his hair as he crossed the room, sitting down on the far end of the bed. “I’m not sure if I even fully realized what I was doing at the time, a–and y’know, we had no idea yet if you were going to make it or not.” He paused for a long beat, clearing his throat, and looked away to stare out the window at the fading late afternoon sun.

“I would have kept your vest no matter what, to make sure you got it back, or Wayne, if the worst happened. But when I went to throw out my own ruined clothes I just—I couldn’t stop thinking about how it was your blood I was covered in, and if you died, then…“ Steve sniffled, tearing his gaze away from the outside world to look deep into Eddie’s eyes, as if they too were pleading with him to understand. “It would be all there was left of you. I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of it.” 

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip, quietly digesting what he’d heard. Before he could begin to think of a response Steve groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

“Jesus, it sounds even worse when I say it out loud. I’m sorry, I know it was crazy. I-I’m just gonna shut up now.”

Maybe someone a little more stable would have been weirded out by the whole thing, but it was like he and Steve spoke the same fucked up language, and all Eddie could think was how, as strange as it was, it was also kind-of romantic as hell.

“Not crazy,” Eddie said softly, climbing to his feet and coming to stand in front of Steve. He reached out to take Steve’s hands, pulling them away to reveal his beautiful flushed face. “Or if it is, I don't fucking care.”

Forgetting all the reasons why it was wrong, why it was a terrible idea, Eddie let Steve go, instead winding his own hands into that mass of soft chestnut hair as he climbed up onto the bed, straddling Steve’s hips to settle in his lap, and caught his lips in a bruising kiss.

Chapter 8

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this!

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

Fic taglist (open): @sidebarre

[simons-purplehoodie]

Sunday Snippet

This snippet is from Ch 1 of my new fic I’ve recently started working on called “Hard to Break.” Hopefully I’ll have enough chapters written in advance to start posting it soon! Anyone ready for a lil roommates to lovers? 👀

Eventually Simon packs up his homework and heads into the bedroom when his eyes start to become tired and he sees Marcus getting ready for bed. Simon doesn’t exactly know what to say so he stays quiet, sliding out of his pants and into his boxers. He takes off his shirt too like he usually does as he hears Marcus slide under the covers, but instead of getting in bed too he heads to one of his drawers. He usually sleeps with no shirt on but for some reason now he just feels too exposed like this, like the ache in his heart will be visible if he doesn’t have something to cover it, so he opens the drawer and takes out an oversized shirt of his and slides it on.

He turns the light off and climbs into bed, lifting up the covers and pulling them over himself, leaving some space between himself and Marcus’ back where his boyfriend is on his side and facing the wall away from him.

“Goodnight,” he whispers out into the darkness, reaching out to touch his boyfriend’s arm gently. His boyfriend just shifts farther from him in response and Simon sighs, turning over onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. He knows that Marcus is just more of an emotional person than he is, and that he deals with conflict differently, but Simon wishes that sometimes it could be easier to resolve things with the person he loves.

He lies awake for a while, looking at the sliver of moonlight coming in from the little gap in the curtains. He just wishes he knew what it was he did that was so wrong.

[esote-rika]

Once Upon a Dream | Spencer Reid

i. parting is such sweet sorrow | prev chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

Contents: mentions of sleepwalking, spells and potions, infidelity A/N: This is set after season 15, so no real cases, but it will make references to certain plotlines so be careful with the spoilers if you haven’t made it that far! Please leave a comment, I love reading them and interacting with you guys! Thank you for reading <3 bisous.

For as long as she can remember, Jet has shared a bed with her little sister. It had never been discussed or contested. From the moment Lenore was old enough to be out of her crib, she slept next to her big sister. 

Nobody batted an eye, really, because despite the age gap of four years, the sisters moved almost like twins. They used to do everything together, went to the same schools, got the same teachers.

They could even be mistaken for twins, with their matching dark hair and round, girlish faces. The only noticeable difference is Leni's blue eyes in comparison to Jet's dark brown ones.

However, even as they grew up, even as the differences between them grew more pronounced and Jet began to fry her hair with bleach (at first it had been a dare, but then she had grown to like how it looked) which further distinguished their appearance from each other, they continued to share a bed.

It’s one of those things that just is. 

Like the way Jet can pinpoint someone's exact mood and temperament, or the way Leni always knows if it's going to rain. 

The practice was partly for practical reasons. It helped with their sleep talking—somehow, whenever one of them starts talking in their sleep, the other wakes up and puts a stop to whatever words are being mumbled in that hazy, subconscious state. 

—Stopping the sleep talker is important, for whatever they utter in their dreams, in this state of in-between, might be made manifest in the real world. The girls had almost a sixth sense for each other in these moments. 

Admittedly, this made sleepovers awkward; Jet's peers didn't always want to hang out with a younger girl, and without Leni to put a stop to the sleep talking, it’s difficult to explain why sometimes the group having the sleepover would wake up covered in chicken feathers (Jet had a phase of dreaming about flying, specifically flying with wings, and her childlike magic manifested that into different sorts of feathers.)

Jet took matters into her own hands; she simply stopped going to sleepovers where Leni isn't welcome. 

Their sleeping habits only strengthened during the death of their parents, an unfortunate car crash that left them orphaned. Sent off to live with their eccentric aunts in a small town in Massachusetts where everything is new and baffling, the girls found solace with each other. 

Unfortunately, their small haven only lasted so long. At eighteen, Jet got accepted into a university in the city, with a scholarship offer that was too good to pass up. And so she packed her bags, armed with a citrine crystal and a sleeping concoction of chamomile and a secret ingredient Leni refused to name in order to make sure Jet sleeps deeply. 

Without sleep talking.

It was difficult, being so far from each other, but Jet was diligent, always, always telling Leni where she is, so that in case something happens to her, there would be a trail to track. Leni, for her part, lit Jet’s favorite candle every night, the one that smells of cinnamon and amber, and mutters a few words of safety for her older sister.

The year is 20─ and Jet has finally learned how to use Uber. And by that, it means she’s found a way around the protection curse. In the past, she had tried to book a ride, but her location just would not show up on her phone, as it had always done for basically her entire life.

Until recently. The idea had come from a colleague at the law firm she works in, who had been (rightfully so) paranoid about putting her address out into an application. Instead, she would pin a location at least two streets away, and when the driver is nearing that street, she’d walk the short distance to meet her ride there.

Jet is a little annoyed she herself hadn’t thought of that sooner. 

But she did learn it at a perfect time, because on the 18th of August, she had driven to this penthouse party with Lucas, but she was going to be leaving without him. 

Because, you see, decent people will stop flirting once they find a partner. Especially when they declare exclusivity.

Jet had thought she and Lucas were exclusive.

That is, until his wife had cornered her at this penthouse party, screaming bloody murder.

Jet had been too stunned to even defend herself, even though she’s been working around enough lawyers to know exactly what to say during a confrontation like this. But the complete betrayal of the situation had rendered her completely speechless. He made her the other woman, the rat bastard.

She couldn’t explain that she didn’t know because the wife had grabbed the bowl of cheese dip and hurled it straight at Jet. It spilled everywhere, even got in her left eye which promptly watered and gave off the impression that she’s crying. As if she would ever cry for a man. The last time she did was for her father, several months after the funeral. But it looked like she was crying on that night, the 18th of August, cheddar flavored tears burning down her face in ugly streaks.

What a humiliating affair. 

Jet had run down the stairs as fast as she could, and Lucas, the treacherous rat, had run after her. Go back to your wife, she had wanted to scream at him, don’t chase after me, I’m not taking you back. And for her sake, I hope she doesn’t either.

It only took her hiding in the fire escape to lose him. (Or perhaps he gave up quickly; Jet isn’t sure if that’s the work of her curse, or Lucas’ own pitiful attempts.)

With trembling hands, she had managed to book a ride. The Uber driver had been sympathetic, but he also eyed her cheese stained blouse warily. 

“Just don’t get it all over my seats, all right, miss?” the man had said with a chuckle, as though the whole thing was a joke. Jet certainly feels like it is. The universe playing a long, cruel joke on her for six goddamned months. 

Okay, so maybe her favorite candle had refused to light whenever she invited Lucas to her apartment, and she had always dreamed of him with another woman. But he’d said she was just paranoid, and Jet had to admit she had a tendency to be paranoid. And that she liked that he knew she was paranoid. 

She liked that he knew her, from the specific shade of blonde dye she used to the sizes of her shoes (it was a women’s six in open sandals, but a 7 in closed shoes and boots.) And so she had ignored the signs, and continued to date him, liking the fact that finally, a man had taken enough time to get to know her.

In the meantime, she didn’t know him.

She isn’t sad about the revelation; sadness would have ached in her stomach, made her chest feel hollow. But that night, Jet had felt as though she would burst. She was angry. So angry that the car’s speed would not go below 20 mph, despite whatever attempts the Uber driver made to slow down.

No, she didn’t want to slow down. She wanted to get home as fast as she could, open up whatever book of curses she could get her hands on, and begin one for Lucas, the fucking rat’s asshole.

When they had arrived at her building, she had thrown a crisp bill at the driver, apologizing for her rudeness and telling him to keep the change, then rushed all the way up to her apartment on the third floor. Jet had every intention of cursing Lucas at that moment, but when she reached her bed, the emotional exhaustion of the night finally took a toll.

Instead of finding the spell book, she had stripped off her cheesy clothes, murmured a spell to make sure the dip and color didn’t stain, and crawled under the covers, missing Leni. Leni would have stayed up and cursed Lucas for her. Something silly and inconvenient, like Lucas never finding his matching socks. He had a perfectionist streak, and liked things to be orderly, and mismatched socks would have made his everyday life miserable.

But she was so tired that she promptly fell asleep even without drinking the tea to keep herself from the habit of sleep talking. She wonders if she’d see her sister in dreamland.

Instead her dreams are filled with mismatched socks and a pair of scruffy converse.

[autisticalastor]

we'll build our own family, one day at a time

(Part 1/2)

Pairing: Charlie/Alastor

Rating: G

Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Pregnancy, Autistic Alastor (always relevant lmao)

A/N: First fic of 2025! This one goes out to all the pregnancy tests i took last year that came out negative. One day, it will be my turn. There's gonna be a second chapter to this later! Going through the rest of Charlie's pregnancy and her having the baby <3 Title is from From The Ground Up by Dan + Shay!

Today is rapidly becoming the worst day of Charlie's life. Other than Extermination Day, of course, but that's an outlier that doesn’t really count right now. Not when it's not even eight in the morning and everything is already awful somehow.

For starters, she woke up nauseated. And as much as she'd like to curl into Alastor and sleep it off while he dotes on her… He was already gone to start breakfast well before she even woke up. And it's not like she can get away with shirking her responsibilities anyways. She decides to chalk it up to stress from both running the hotel and planning their upcoming wedding and just do her best to ignore it, but it's far from her only problem today.

She stands now in front of her wardrobe, wondering why all of her clothes are seeming so much tighter recently. She's struggling with the buttons on one of her usual tops, but it just isn't going to stay shut. Not without an obvious gap where the buttons are barely managing not to pop off. Even her bras aren't really fitting properly today, and she's really hoping it doesn't mean she's going to need new ones, because she doesn't even know where to begin with bra shopping right now

She sighs in frustration, seeing she clearly isn't going to make her usual button-down and blazer combination work today. Has she really put on that much weight? Sure, she's been eating a little more recently — she's chalked that up to stress, too — but she didn’t think it was that bad. Sure enough, though, as she moves to stand in front of the mirror, she turns and finds a small bump protruding from her stomach. She rests a hand against it, frowning.

She's feeling an odd mix of stressed and disproportionately upset that has her on the verge of tears already, and she idly wonders if maybe her period is coming up. Surely that's why she seems like such a mess today. She stares at her reflection, as if looking long enough might change what she sees into something she can cope with right now.

Keep Reading

[happilyfeatherafter]

Happilyfeatherafter’s ficrec Fridays

Good friday y'all. Welcome back to a new fortnight of fics that I’ve read and loved recently. I took my first holiday of the year and IMMEDIATELY caught a cold that knocked me out for the week but at least it meant I got reading done. Save me, destiel, save me.

If you want to find more you can see my previous rec lists here!

29 March 2024

virga(e) by @shineforthee (art by @neversleepuntilfive) has gone straight to the top of the favourite fics ever pile, oh my god you guys, please read it immediately and admire the art that inspired it as part of @deancasreversebang. This fic is a thing of beauty from start to finish. In one version of the story of Dean and Cas, we find Castiel perpetually waiting in the desert, when a 26 year old Dean stumbles upon him drawn to the location mid-hunt. They must learn to trust each other, to figure out what's causing the push and pull that bonds them. The poetry of this fic, run through with this yearning devastating emotion on their journey together, coupled with the incredibly evocatively descriptions and research into the setting, come together to make the most gorgeous picture, the desert a place that seems desolate but is teeming with life. Much like the slowburn romance that flourishes between them. It also links back to post-canon in a way that is seeded so carefully and cleverly, and made my heart explode. It's funny, romantic, devastating, emotional, moving....I can't do justice to this fic with such a short snapshot, please read it for yourselves and come yell at me about it. It's so beautiful. shineforthee also has a great 9x06 fanfic gap one shot and an ongoing wip now too and I can't wait to read that! (Somehow need any more convincing? Check out @bloodydeanwinchester's Virga(e) liveblog).

It's all very complex by artichokeflower okay that was all very serious, so let's turn to a short and sweet smut fic that had me giggling gleefully throughout. 'After walking in on Dean's private time, Cas decides to do a little research and experimentation of his own and gets magically trapped in a book about sexual fantasies. And if that means Dean has to go in after him, well what are buddies for, right?' The thing that is just GOLDEN about this fic aside from the hot smut is the dry sense of humour, borderline French Mistake parody level porn and dialogue between Dean and especially Cas which just gets them so well...the cowboy scenes in particular. Glorious: “I’m sorry, Dean. That’s the end of the erotic violence. Are you hurt?” “Is there going to be any sex in your sexy fantasies?” Dean wheezed. “Not that the whole shoot out wasn’t fun. I just wasn’t expecting as much plot is all.” He coughed. That had probably sounded too eager.

Just Being and Just Having by Englandwouldfall I have recced before but is now complete!! This the post-canon fic series delves so incredibly beautifully into Dean and Cas’ history of miscommunication and gives them the chance to truly talk things out, finding themselves falling more deeply in love as they do so and understand their own mistakes but also what makes them work so well together when they’re no longer under Chuck’s thumb. Each chapter feels like therapy and a brain and heart massage! It sticks the landing so well and I just love these boys so much.

Something Happening Somewhen by allthismusic (@folkbloodbaths, art by @eggchef) aaaahhh time travel young Dean brought to the future to meet older Dean and Cas fic trope my beloved. A @deancaspinefest fic, Allthismusic is a fan of the trope too and this fic is a gorgeous tribute to it and the fics that came before. Cas saves 24yo Dean from an accident and brings him to the future when he witnesses what his life will be. Will Cas have to remove his memories to stop a paradox? Sweet and heartfelt, a joy to read.

Books, Pies, and Roommates by @seidenapfel (art by @kitshay) is a @deancaspinefest two-person love hexagon, with some excellently farcical misdirection. Cas moves in to the spare room of Dean's house, but he doesn't meet him, he meets Sam, as Dean is busy working. Cas is professor but helps his cousin out as a barista and his favourite customer is Deano. Dean's intrigued by the barista but he's not his online penpal and best friend Angel. Lines blur, connections are made, and hearts are gonna get broken...or are they?

Tag list under the cut, let me know if you'd like to be added! Please reblog <3

@dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you

[ldysmfrst]

Hello, dearest readers!

I have a new story! It kind of came out of nowhere! Well, let's be honest: post-concert Delulu mind-induced writing is where it really came from.

It was a dream I had, and then I brought it up to my friend @bethanysnow, who proceeded to convince me that it would be worth writing. The first chapter, Main Title Banner, and big and small page breaks were created in about 2.5 hours.

Remember, if you want to get early access to any of my works, it's only $5 a month. You get the extra scenes and can "Ask a character a question"!

Here is a teaser for you all. If you want the full chapter now, please go to my Patreon.

Incomplete (1) - A Pull to Where?

Paring: Ateez OT8 x Plus-sized FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 1 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 3,384 

Word count for Story: 3,384 

Genre: Idol Soulmate AU

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This story will contain a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does not really contain anything to warn about. (let me know if I am wrong)

Story Summary: Ateez are soulmates who earned their way to Fame once they found each other. What happens when a new pull comes during their Towards The Light World Tour? Does 8 really make 1?

INCOMPLETE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

“I can’t believe it! We are all here for the LA concert! This will be the first time for us. I am so proud of everything and love you all,” exclaimed Hongjoong. Looking around BMO stadium quickly before the VIP ticket holders came in, he could not believe they finally made it after six years. 

“All thanks to our wonderful Captain,” Seonghwa says as he back-hugs his shortest soulmate. “Did you see the lines are already starting to fill with our Atiny? Are you sure we brought enough Merch for all of them?”

“Don’t worry about that, Hwa. I am sure our management brought what they could. Remember, we have to split it between two shows. Are you sure you are up for this? You haven't taken the time to lament your grandfather’s passing. I am sure Atiny will understand if you cannot make it through the show,” Yeosang comments with a concerned look.

Smiling softly, Seonghwa replies, “Atiny are my light in my darkest times. Right now, performing for them… I feel like I am performing to keep my own light shining inside. I couldn’t do this without them, and want to perform best for this tour to honor my late grandfather.”

“Hwa, he is so proud of you. I can tell,” Hongjoong says, turning his head to kiss Seonghwa on the cheek.

One of the stagehands tells the three soulmates, “You have one hour to get ready for sound check.” 

“Let's head backstage and get ready to charm our Atiny,” Yeosang remarks as he pushes Seonghwa and Hongjoong towards the back. 

As the three missing soulmates make it behind the stage, Seonghwa feels his chest tighten. Dropping his hug on Hongjoong, Seonghwa makes his way to the side, where he can glimpse the lawn where the queue is set up for the merchandise and the standard entry. His eyes search the crowd for something. 

Maybe someone familiar or someone to stand out. 

Seonghwa was the most sensitive of all his soulmates, which is why he was known to Atiny as Momhwa. He always cared for the children (San, Wooyoung, Johngo, Yeosang, Mingi, and Yunho) while the Captain was off doing captain-like things. He was also the one to beg for alone time but then worried 24/7 that the rest of his soulmates were being taken good care of when they weren’t in his eyesight. 

Recently, the kids have grown up, which has allowed Hongjoong and Seonghwa to focus on other things. During this time, Seonghwa noticed that he felt like something was missing, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Looking over the crowds, it felt like something was nearby, but what could it be?

“Hwa-hyung, are you okay? Did you see someone out there?” asked San after noticing the intense look on Seonghwa’s face as he peeked out the gap in the stands. 

Rubbing his chest, Hwa replied, “Yeah… I think so. It just gotta be nerves. Still get them, ya know?” San nodded with a smile. “Being back in LA means so much to Joong-ah, and I don’t want to mess it up.” 

Shrugging off the tightness, Seonghwa went to his chair to prepare for sound check. He took his seat between Mingi and Yunho, who are always inseparable; their idle chatter overtook Hwas's thoughts as they got closer to showtime.

Tag List - OPEN

@bethanysnow @reallysparklychaos @braveangel777 @danielle143