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demonicbaby666 · 1 year ago

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Anywhere, Everywhere

One shot | Supergirl Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Supercorp

Genre: Angst, fluff and smut

Words: 4.1k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, fingering, oral sex, idiots in love

Summary: Lena's been avoiding Kara, and she's not entirely sure why. But after too many cancelled lunches and meet-ups, Kara decides to find out.

A/n: Listen, this wasn't exactly proofread immaculately, but I'm low-key off my game, so I hope it's still an enjoyable read.

Kara always knows when Lena is stressed. She can hear it in her voice, see it in the slips of her always solid stature, feel it in the rapid thrums of a once steady heartbeat.

It isn’t unusual for the brunette to be stressed, what with her being CEO and constantly juggling project after project. However, what is, is her sudden reluctance to seeing Kara. The journalist has repeatedly tried to arrange lunches, dinners and movie nights. Anything and everything she knows usually alleviates some of the extraordinary pressure that comes with Lena’s day-to-day workload. It’s just that Lena says she’s busy or agrees, then cancels at the last minute with the increasingly frequent excuse of ‘I’m overloaded at work’, adding a less-than-reassuring ‘another time, I promise.’

For what it’s worth, Kara does try not to take it to heart. She’s more than privy to work seizing control of every aspect of her life. It’s only that there’s been a silent agreement between herself and Lena that they manage to find time for one another, no matter the circumstances. So, for the life of her, Kara can’t work out what is so important to Lena that trumps spending time with her best friend. But she decides enough is enough. She’s going to get to the bottom of this, even if it means exerting a little more force than necessary.

“Miss Luthor isn’t seeing anyone at the mo-” before Lena’s assistant has time to finish, the super is past her, barging through the doors into Lena’s immaculately clean office. Everything is in its place. The only thing that appears to be in disarray is Lena, who sits at her cluttered desk. There are mountains of paperwork surrounding her, and one would assume there is no order to them, but it’s Lena, after all, so there most certainly is a system in place.

“I’m sorry, Miss Luthor, I tried to stop her.” The sullen assistant says, looking rather down on herself.

Razor-sharp eyes flicker up to the commotion bursting through the doors. Lena takes in Kara and her flustered assistant. The blonde appears fine, but Lena can see beneath the surface. Kara is on edge. She can see and feel her best friend's eyes studying every inch of her for anything out of the ordinary. Hell, Kara’s fingers and legs are twitching, like she’s holding herself back from jumping Lena right then and there.

She takes a moment to brush through her hair and release a well-needed exhale before standing up and walking to the pair.

“It’s alright,” the brunette says to her assistant with a smile. The poor thing looks like she needs it, “For the future, it’d be best to let Kara be the exception to my no-visitors rules.” She takes a brief pause and looks at the blonde as she finishes talking to her assistant, ushering her out of the room, “I wouldn’t want to put you in the crosshairs of her wrath when she’s being denied something she wants.”

The door hinges creak to a halt, and the two are alone. As the CEO predicted, Kara doesn’t wait a second, blurting out, “Lena, what’s going on?”

It comes out rushed and is likely too fast for anyone to understand. But Lena lets out a resigned sigh before answering, proving she’s so in sync with Kara that her jargon and fast-paced ramblings are a second language at this point.

“Nothing is going on,” she brushes off the question, sashaying back to her desk to haphazardly look over the stacks of papers, “I’ve been busy, that’s all.”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Kara tries again.

She knows. The CEO knows she’s been doing precisely that. The reason Lena is so averse to owning up to her actions is simply that she’ll have to tell her best friend the actual reason she’s been dodging all her calls, texts, and meet-ups is because she is undeniably and insanely head over heels for her. And that isn’t an option.

It started small, crept up on her without her knowledge. She’d stare at Kara and find herself lost in the way her smile made her cheeks jut out like a little chipmunk. She’d watch wisps of soft blonde hair fly about in the wind whenever Kara came to her rescue and became drunk with the need to run her fingers through them. She’d crave Kara in such a primal way it no longer felt like she was missing a friend when Kara wasn’t there, but a piece of herself.

It was the amalgamation of all these small quirks that began to drive Lena crazy. She told herself to ignore it. To ignore the butterflies in her stomach whenever Kara's name was mentioned, to ignore the sickening fright that arose every time the blonde went on a mission, ignore the overpowering urge to engulf Kara into her arms and never let her go.

Then, one night, when the two shared a parting hug, Lena came to the conclusion that being in Kara’s arms - feeling her strength and warmth and the safety provided - was her everything. Kara was her home. The smell of sunshine and honied tulips meant that the walking embodiment of joy was around the corner. Kara was her safe place. But Kara was also her best friend, the most important person in her life.

When she realised the cons vastly outweighed the pros of fessing up to her true feelings, Lena made the tough decision to suffer in silence rather than do anything to jeopardise their friendship. After that night, her relationship with the woman in question suddenly became both too much and not enough. It was happy yet melancholy, fun yet draining. She felt filled with so much love, but none of it was without a chestful of aching yearning. So naturally, she pulled back.

Still, reminding herself of her justifications does nothing to alleviate the guilt she feels. The hurt evident on Kara’s face is not lost on Lena, and she’s filled with the need to reach out and fling herself into those strong arms because if anything can put a smile on the blonde’s face, it’s a hug. Alas, she can’t. She can’t because if she does, she’ll never want to leave Kara's welcoming embrace. She’ll get too comfortable in the arms of someone always willing to catch her. So Lena stands her ground- or rather, remains seated.

“Honestly, Kara,” she starts, “It’s work being-”

Lena, however, isn’t granted the opportunity to finish because Kara speeds over to her, spins her chair and grasps firmly onto the sides. If Lena hadn’t known her best friend possessed abilities, she’d have been somewhat worried. But she also knows better than to think Kara would ever think to lay a hand on her.

“Stop lying,” the blonde said firmly, eyes burning the lies straight out of Lena’s mouth.

Her tone of voice sends shivers down Lena’s spine, and she has to hold back a whimper. The authority Kara wields in times like these is downright illegal. During missions, outings, and interrogations - especially interrogations - when Lena is granted the pleasure of seeing Kara in an all-too-tight suit and wielding her power of submission, the CEO often finds her body her worst enemy.

When she’s with Kara, she’s on fire. She’s electric. She’s embarrassingly and uncharacteristically so fucking turned on she’s having to squeeze her legs together and fuck herself to exhaustion the following evening. It’s a constant cycle of shame, and the cycle begins anew with the object of her desires so close, so close. She cranes her head up. Too close.

There’s a sudden meekness in Kara as her crystal-blue eyes look intently into Lena’s greens. “Have I done something?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

The blonde is leaning over her, and her grip on the arms of the chair hasn’t loosened at all - Lena figures this out when she tries and fails to push herself away from the proximity of Kara’s scolding warmth.

“It’s not you,” the CEO mutters, her resolve fizzling away as the pout on Kara’s face grows more and more prominent.

The moment is becoming increasingly charged, and Lena can’t stand it. The truth is right in reach, but a lie begs to save her. Kara is, as always, patient. Silent. Waiting. Lena feels sick. Tears are beginning to sting the back of her eyes, and Lillian’s words echo in her head. She’s telling her to show no weakness, to stop being so pathetic. She’s a Luthor, for god's sake.

But Kara is so close, maybe closer than before, and she doesn’t know if that’s her doing or the blonde’s. For a brief moment, her eyes flicker south. She watches as lips part and hears Kara’s breath hitch. Their eyes are on each other again, and Kara is leaning in. No, they’re both leaning in. The air between them is thick and hot, shared as they take turns to warm the other's lips with shaky breaths.

Lena can smell Kara’s sweet perfume and the floral laundry detergent on Kara’s clothes. She closes her eyes. The peppermint lingering on Kara’s breath is sharp as it travels up Lena’s nose; the scent awakens her senses and pebbles her skin in susceptive goosebumps. They’re so close. Too close.

A blaring ringtone bulldozes the moment, snapping the two women apart at an alarming rate. They stay stark still, staring at each other in astonishment as the room fills with an uncomfortable heat, and Kara’s phone seems to get louder and louder.

Kara is the one to break their heated staring contest, turning to her discarded bag on the couch and reaching for the pesky device.

With her jaw clenched and her feet pressing firmly against the ground, Lena turns to her paperwork. She tunes out the sound of who she assumes is Alex talking to Kara and shuns herself for letting whatever just happened to happen.

From the corner of her eye, the brunette sees Kara pacing. She looks like she’s composed herself, nonchalantly humming and nodding along as she carefully listens to the information being fed to her over the phone. Lena can practically see the cogs turning in the super’s head, and her thrumming heart and clouded mind grow envious of how Kara seems to have moved on so quickly from the heated moment that arose only seconds ago.

The call is over, and silence engulfs the office. The tension is palpable; it’s suffocating. No one speaks, and Lena keeps her eyes on legal documents, pretending not to notice Kara staring, waiting.

“I should go,” the blonde finally says after sighing and turning to place her phone back in her bag.

Lena doesn’t so much as look up because she knows if she does, she’ll break. She’s letting Kara leave. She’s letting the one person she loves and will always love walk away for what feels like the last time.

“Be safe,” is all she can mumble as Kara exits.

And then she’s crying.

————————————————

Lena’s lying on her couch after spending most of the evening bawling. Her eyes are sore, and her throat burns from the scotch she’s been nursing. It fails to calm her, and she’s not even tipsy, just painfully tired from an exhausting day.

Unaware that she had fallen asleep, Lena awakens to find herself wrapped in a pair of strong arms. Her head rests on Kara’s chest alongside her hand, and she can hear a steady heartbeat thrum under her ear.

It’s always been like this. The pair have never shied away from intimacy. Hugs, cuddles, and the occasional kiss have always been common occurrences. But now it feels different. Of course, it’s still comforting - it’s Kara, after all - but it’s filled with longing for more. Lena doesn’t want a parting kiss on the cheek, a momentary hug, or to cuddle during a movie while subconsciously counting down the minutes until the film ends and Kara has to leave. She doesn’t want temporary. She chastises herself for being greedy and ungrateful for wanting more but can’t help it. Once she tasted what it felt like to be complete, loved and untroubled, it became impossible to give it up.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on,” Kara whispers delicately into Lena's dark hair, absentmindedly drawing circles over her back. “Even if it takes all night.”

“Oh, Kara,” Lena concedes and looks up, “you have no idea what you do to me.” Her thoughts come swiftly to berate her - curse her for slipping up and revealing too much.

Those blue eyes stare at her, and a faint smile paints soft pink lips. There's so much warmth in Kara’s eyes that Lena can’t even feel the breeze coming in from the open balcony doors (which certainly weren't left open on the off chance Kara decided to drop by). Her heart hammers against her chest, and the longer Kara stares, the faster it gets.

Hands come up to cup the brunette’s face, and her best friend bites her lip before heavily exhaling, “Then tell me.”

“I can’t,” she tries to turn away, but Kara holds her still, “I can’t lose you.”

“You never will. No matter what,” the journalist whispers, her gaze honest and sure, thumbs caressing the sharp curves of Lena’s jaw, “What can I do to prove that?”

“Kara,” her heart is racing so viciously that Lena thinks she may pass out; her palms are sweaty, and her head is spinning. She’s making a mistake. Kara’s soft lips are right there. She looks down. Kara’s eyes do the same. A thumb traces her bottom lip, and the CEO is no longer thinking straight. Lena wants this. She needs this, “Kiss me.”

She watches her best friend's expression change from soft and warm to desperate and dark.

“Where?” Kara husks, “Where do you want me to kiss you, Lena?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

Kara momentarily untangles herself from Lena. She moves on top of her and rests her hands on the armrest behind the brunette's head. Her lips hover over Lena’s neck before slowly lowering herself to kiss the perfumed skin.

“Here?” Kara whispers hotly, sucking the Luthor’s pulse point into her mouth and leaving behind a faint hickey.

Lena moans and nods as Kara moves higher, behind her ear, where she presses her lips down firmly, “Here?”

“Yes,” the brunette contently sighs.

Kara moves again, hovers over Lena’s lips and waits, “Here?”

Lena can’t take it. She grabs Kara by the back of her shirt and yanks her down, meshing their lips together with a frenzied kiss.

Every single dream, fantasy and hope are surmounted the moment their lips meet. Electric currents run through Lena’s body right down to her stomach, slowly filling with a swarm of butterflies.

Feeling Kara over her has Lena desperate for more. She pulls her closer, eating up the minimal space between their bodies. Her hands roam freely, finding the bottom of Kara’s shirt. She untucks it from the confines of the blonde’s slacks and runs her fingernails along sculpted abs. The move earns her a groan, and she takes this as an opportunity to slide her tongue into Kara’s mouth and finally taste her.

She’s sweet, just as the CEO thought she would be. The taste of sugared doughnuts still lingers in the blonde's mouth, and Lena can’t get enough of it. She’s greedy, unapologetically so, swirling her tongue and lapping up every centimetre of Kara she can get.

Somehow, as their make-out session grows more and more passionate, Kara’s thigh has managed to find itself between Lena’s legs. The unintentional or intentional pressure has Lena subconsciously moving her hips, moaning as the pangs of pleasure spur up from her clothed cunt to her stomach.

The cherry on top that forces Lena to moan far too loud for her liking is Kara’s hand slipping under her nightshirt and lightly tracing the skin below her breasts with her fingertips. It seems Lena’s reaction doesn’t go unnoticed because, in a gust of wind, they’re in her bedroom. The mattress presses against Lena’s back, and Kara is atop her.

“Are you okay with this?” Kara asks, suggestively tugging the bottom of Lena’s shirt.

“God, yes.”

“I don’t want to force you. If you want to wait and talk and maybe work things out and…” Kara rambles on, and though Lena usually adores this quirk, her body is thrumming with need and desire, and if it’s not sated soon, she feels she may implode.

“Darling,” Lena smiles and reaches out to brush Kara’s cheek lightly, “I want you to fuck me.”

The journalist's cheeks flush, but a playful smirk appears over her lips right before she rips Lena’s top off and devours her neck. She’s marking it all over, and Lena doesn’t care one bit. In her mind, she knows she’ll look at the marks in the following days and treasure the claim Kara is laying waste to her body.

Lena places her hands on Kara's forearms, and a content hum echoes through the bedroom. A smile blossoms over the CEO’s lips as she relishes finally being able to run her hands over bulging biceps, and she doesn’t even try to resist the urge to squeeze.

“I knew you were into my guns,” Kara gloats, making a show of flexing.

“Mmmmhh,” is all the Luthor offers, clearly too busy to offer a witty comeback, and Kara can’t help but chuckle as she pecks at Lena’s neck.

“Guess I should get them out more often.”

Despondently removing a hand from Kara’s forearm and placing it on the back of her head, Lena guides the super back to her puckered lips, “Less talking, more kissing.”

Kara’s resounding smile is wiped off her face when Lena decides to take matters into her own hands and connect their lips together. This time, she doesn’t hold back, plunging her tongue into Kara’s mouth and dominating the kiss.

Their kiss is only broken a few times to remove articles of clothing that grow more and more offending as their body temperatures rise and the pair become increasingly impatient to lay their hands upon each other. The moment the pair find themselves sufficiently naked, Kara pulls Lena into her lap, causing the CEO to let out an uncharacteristic squeal.

She’s quick to hide her adolescent slip-up, burying her crimson blush in the crook of Kara’s neck and hears a muffled bark of laughter. When she eventually finds the courage to emerge from her makeshift cacoon of shame - aided by Kara’s gentle fingers running through her hair - Lena can’t help but smile at the pure adoration in those azure eyes, and her embarrassment becomes pliable and soft. She melds their lips together, and all emotions running through her body, aside from desire and love, make themselves scarce.

Kara’s hand slides between the two women’s bodies and moves up Lena’s thigh, right to where she’s needed most. She lightly circles Lena’s clit, prying a small moan out of the brunette, and Kara takes this as a sign to keep going. With one finger, she traces the entrance to Lena’s sex, gathering up her wetness before slowly entering her. Receiving a gasp from the woman above, Kara begins a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out.

“I need more,” Lena whines and Kara is all too happy to oblige, pushing another finger inside Lena’s tight channel.

“God, you’re stunning like this.” Kara growls. Eyes transfixed on Lena’s full breasts, she takes a nipple into her mouth and sucks hard. The CEO shudders against her and encourages Kara to repeat the action on her other breast, guiding her head sideways.

Emboldened by Lena’s responsiveness, Kara becomes playful. Using her teeth, she latches onto the nipple in her mouth, causing the woman above her to gasp before tenderly lathering it with her tongue in a swirling motion.

“Fuck Kara,” Lena pants, her hips grinding in tandem with Kara’s ministrations, “More.”

Kara quickly follows the order, wanting only to satisfy Lena’s every desire. She tightens her grip around Lena’s waist and pounds her fingers deeper and faster, repeatedly hitting a particular stop inside the brunette that has her crying out.

Lena can feel Kara moving her hips, using the full momentum of her body to fuck into her. The muscles in her stomach are tensing as she gulps in heaps of air between pleasure-drunk moans, and she thanks the lucky stars that Kara's skin is impenetrable because if it weren’t, the poor woman’s forearms would be covered in angry scratches.

Hands clasp Kara’s shoulders as Lena pushes herself up, leaving only Kara’s fingertips inside her, and then she drops back down, sheathing herself onto those deliciously svelte digits.

“That’s it,” Kara huskily encourages, moving her lips from Lena’s breasts to her neck, where she begins peppering kisses over darkening blotches of red, “You look so pretty fucking yourself on my fingers.”

Lena’s head snaps back as she utters a curse, and she forces herself to rise again and repeat the movement.

“I-I’m close,” the CEO stutters, her body shaking in anticipation, “God, Kara, I’m so close.”

Lena’s getting impatient, losing control of her hips, and her thighs begin to shudder uncontrollably. She’s struggling to keep a steady pace whilst balancing on the precipice of her orgasm, and, always attentive, Kara is quick to pick up on this. Using her thumb to press down on a severely neglected clit, Kara focuses, careful not to hurt the brunette; she relies on her superstrength to guide Lena’s body up and down.

“Yes, Kara, just like that,” Lena gasps, her orgasm teetering just out of reach.

The Luthor uses what strength she has left to nestle Kara out from the burrow of her neck, her hand tangling in silky golden locks as she fights off her vehement need to cum in favour of staring at her lover.

She can hear the wet sounds of her pussy being filled over and over, and instead of feeling embarrassed or ashamed, looking into Kara’s eyes, she feels elated. Kara has done this to her, her Kara. She’s worked her up to the tipping point, and she’s about to carry her over the finish line - literally.

The pair stare at each other for mere seconds before crashing their lips together. The knot in Lena’s stomach unfurls, and a warmth spreads through her limbs as she moans into Kara’s mouth.

Lena’s back arches and her expression contorts with a mix of relief and pleasure as her orgasm washes over her body in pulsing waves. She falls slack against Kara’s shoulder, listening to the blonde whisper sweet nothings into her ear as she regains control over her breathing.

“My turn,” Lena murmurs, sucking lewdly on Kara’s earlobe.

With steady hands, Lena pushes Kara’s shoulders until she’s lying flat on her back. There’s a predatory look in her eyes that makes the super think she’s about to be trounced finally, and she doesn’t mind one bit.

Lena uses her tongue to taste her way down milky skin, leaving a shimmering trail from neck to thighs. The sight that greets her tells her all she needs to know, and that’s that Kara is worked up. An unwavering need to be inside Kara overcomes Lena, and she doesn’t hesitate to act.

The first lick has her tastebuds exploding. Kara’s sweet and salty and probably the best thing she’s ever tasted. So, she takes her time, listens to the litany of soft moans coming from above her, and keeps her tongue consistently skirting along where Kara wants it most but never offers the relief the blonde so desperately wants.

“Lena, don’t tease,” Kara whimpers, canting her hips in hopes of getting Lena’s mouth around her aching clit.

“Oh darling, when have you ever known me to play with my food,” Lena taunts, not waiting for a response before she stiffens her tongue and thrusts it inside Kara's dripping entrance.

“Lena!” Kara cries out, gripping the bed sheets, as opposed to Lena’s hair, which she’s sure she’ll rip out, “I’m not going to last long.”

Thighs clamp tightly over Lena’s ears, muffling the sweet erotic sounds coming from above her. With a steady hand looped over Kara’s thigh, Lena tugs her closer, slipping a thumb over the blonde’s clit. She gorges herself on the supple flavours flowing down her chin until she hears a series of curses before hips fly from the mattress, and Lena’s name is echoed throughout the bedroom.

“Come here,” the journalist sighs, letting go of torn bedsheets and reaching out to pull Lena close enough so that the smell of her own arousal fills her nose.

“Hi,” Lena murmurs softly - sweetly - onto Kara’s lips, leaning down to finish her greeting with a deliberate kiss, basking in the intimacy the two had just shared.

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#supergirl #Kara Danvers #Lena luthor #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #kara danvers x lena luthor

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sharacarly · 3 months ago

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An ultra married an Alien Mefilas?! Meet Stolas Mefilas and Ultrawoman Rouge along with their daughter, Milena. They have a very lovey-dovey relationship with them being a power couple, starting one of the Nebula M78 biggest entertainment company, Giga Satsu.

Ultrawoman Rouge (an Ultra from V393) A renowned ultra actress and singer from all around the galaxy! A very mature, yet elegant ultra who's presence steals everyone else's spotlight when she performs. But off stage, she's quite a slobby person and a big foodie trying out different types of cuisines in the galaxy. In her spare time, she does Mukbang videos and dragging Stolas in some of her food ventures. Currently she resides in Land of Light (LoL) as a singer. She started her career from being a gravure model and a adult actress in her planet. A few years later, she met Stolas in the entertainment industry.

Rouge's bio page - https://toyhou.se/21644781.rouge

Stolas Mefilas

He comes from a noble family, and the Founder and Manager of Giga Satsu. Like any other Mefilas', he detests violence and is a courteous gentleman. But don't be deceived by his good looks since he's quite fond of Rouge being a slob and they have a very uncouth love life. Stolas started his journey by working in different jobs than invading planets since he doesn't want to be an invader like some Mefilas'. Years later, he met Rouge in a AV shoot that started their relationship. He's really dedicated with the company by following the law and give the workers the freedom of their rights if they don't want to take certain projects in the entertainment industry.

Stolas's bio page - https://toyhou.se/27743727.stolas-mefilas

Milena

Their sweet daughter Milena will grow up and works as a yoga instructor and a part-time dance choreographer at her parents company.

#ultraman #tokusatsu #original character #oritraman #ultra oc #alien mefilas #ultrawoman #oc #so much purple #ultraman oc #mefilas #family

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autismnation · 1 year ago

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Riot

Summary: There’s barely any fics of Hobie doing punk things even though he’s punk so here—you meet Hobie at a riot and get along instantly.

Pairing: Gender Neutral Reader x Hobie Brown

Warnings: Anarchist reader. Talks of politics and discrimination and fascism. Mentions of blood + mentions of injury (not detailed). Mentions of a riot (not detailed). Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender neutral reader with no y/n. 2nd person POV. Hobie might be OOC because I haven’t read all of his comics yet. Fluff (I guess?). Little bit of angst. Hurt/comfort (I think?). I’m British but might have used Brit slang incorrectly (I just typed down every slang word I’ve ever heard to be honest). I projected my views in this fic so if you don’t agree then sorry not sorry don’t complain lol.

Words: 1.6k

Flames engulfed the sky, cars overturned, windows smashed. People screamed as they fled through the streets, dodging tear gas and riot police.

You could barely manage to find refuge in a nearby alley, sinking against the wall as you stared at the cut on your leg. It wasn’t too deep but it was oozing blood at a constant rate. You thought you were on your own until you noticed someone walking toward you.

“Let me ‘ave a look at that,” the man said when he was close enough, a black bandana covering his face.

Startled by his words, you tried to shuffle backward and get away from him, but your injured leg made it hard.

“Get away from me,” you demanded, your voice firm.

You didn’t know the man, and due to the darkness, you couldn't see anything about him. You didn't know if he was a cop, a fellow protestor, or someone involved with neither. Either way, you were afraid to find out.

“Relax, mate,” the man said, his voice calm. Even though his face was obscured, you could hear the friendly smile in his voice. He had a tall and lanky appearance, opposite the muscular cops who would abuse anyone given the chance.

“Just want to help. If I was a cop, would I be wearin’ this?” He gestured to his bandana covering his face. “The fuzz don’t wear these, do they?”

You furrowed your brow at his words and leaned against the wall behind you, resting your head against it. He made sense. Didn’t mean you trusted him, but the pain in your leg was intensifying with each passing moment.

“I guess not, unless they’re undercover,” you said, then shook your head. “But I don’t care anymore, just help me.”

“That’s what I’m ‘ere for,” the man said, hooking his arm around yours and pulling you to your feet. “But we gotta get outta here. Now.”

Before you could process his words, he dragged you through the streets, sprinting and rushing through alleyways, remaining vigilant for any sign of cops.

Luckily, there were none. None chasing after you.

Suddenly, the man pushed you in front of him, guiding you up some stairs. Pushing open a steel door, you entered a partially demolished room, with one wall completely gone, overlooking the street. You could see the riot still going on, but it was impossible to determine if it was successful. There were more cars on fire than before, and the cops seemed never-ending.

“Hey, let me take care of ya,” the man said softly. He grabbed your shoulder and forcefully pulled you away from the scene, sitting you down on a disheveled and rather uncomfortable sofa.

The man pulled down his bandana, displaying the piercings adorning his face—a septum, two nostril piercings, snakebites.

His brow furrowed in concentration as he retrieved an antiseptic wipe from his jacket and got to work tending to your cut. You winced and your leg jerked. He held your leg in place, grip gentle but firm.

“That's a blood nasty cut,” the man sighed. “What happened? Did they get you with a baton?”

You shook your head, “No, it was glass, I think. I didn't escape quick enough when the first explosion went off. Were you there?”

“’Course I was," the man nodded, glancing up at you. “Name's Hobie Brown.”

You told him your name before glancing down at your cut, which looked much better. “What's the diagnosis, doc?” you joked. “Am I gonna live to see another day?”

Hobie let out a dramatic sigh and shook his head, “No, we’re gonna have to cut it off.”

“You got a prosthetic on you?”

“Nah, I’m kiddin’,” Hobie chuckled as he bandaged your leg. “You just ‘ad a nasty scrap with some coppers, nothin’ major.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, feeling a warmth blooming in your chest. “Thanks for taking care of me. Both physically and emotionally. Usually, I go home and have a massive cry.”

“It’s alright, I’ve been in similar situations. You’re not alone,” Hobie smiled back before sitting on the sofa beside you, one arm leaning on the back of it and almost wrapped around you. “So, what’s your story? You live around here? How come you ain’t scared of getting injured or arrested?”

You shrugged, “I don’t...I don’t really have a story. And I am scared, I’m just even more scared of having more of my rights taken away. So I gotta do something. It also helps that my anger overrides my fear.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a story. At least, it’s in the makin’,” Hobie replied. “So, what made ya pick up the fight?”

“Because fascists are cowards who need to die.”

Hobie laughed and clapped you on the back. “No nonsense, I like it. Couldn’t agree more. They ain’t got no place ‘ere. Respect others, help others, y’know?” Hobie said and pointed to the wall opposite you, reading the spray-painted words.

“Do no harm, take no shit,” you nodded in agreement, pointing to the pin on your jacket.

Hobie’s eyes widened a little. “Damn, that’s a wicked jacket. Mind if I take a look?”

“Go for it,” you said, and Hobie immediately started exploring every inch.

It wasn’t intrusive or uncomfortable. He did it with the excitement of a kid, running his hands over each pin and admiring the sewing on your patches. He gently touched the spikes attached to the material and let out a chuckle.

“That’s badass,” Hobie grinned wide. “You made this yourself?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I got the jacket from a charity shop and made mostly everything myself. I made the spikes using cans.”

“Cans? I never would’ve thought of that,” Hobie commented as he ran his hand over your spikes again and let out a small hiss when one of them poked him. Then, he took a pin off his own jacket and placed it in your hand, “From me to you.”

“Eat The Rich,” you read aloud, smiling. Then, you secured it onto your jacket and gave him one of your pins: one that read ‘courage is contagious’.

“You think I’ve got courage?” Hobie said, flattered, “I thought I was just gobby.”

“You are, probably,” you joked, “But you’re also very brave.”

“Not brave, just got no choice,” Hobie corrected but secured your pin onto his jacket anyway, “I can’t stand by and watch the world go to shit. The fash need to be sorted.”

You leaned over and flicked him on the cheek, making him laugh, “That is bravery, idiot. I mean, yeah, maybe to you it’s the only option, but I know plenty of other people who just lie down and take it. And I’m not calling them cowards because it’s their choice not to fight back, and it’s understandable given the many risks involved. But you are brave, Hobie Brown.”

“Other people probably disagree,” Hobie shrugged, “I just don’t wanna be controlled. Hate the government, always have.”

“Me too.”

“I can tell,” Hobie laughed before pointing to the anarchist pin you had on your jacket.

“Power’s nothing but a problem,” you replied simply.

Hobie nodded, “Power, money, fame don’t mean nothing. ‘Specially not in this shitty, capitalist hellscape we find ourselves in. I’m tired of all the greed and corruption. I’m tired of seeing people suffer and go hungry, go homeless, and being kept down by the man. All them posh heads up in their ivory towers, they don’t understand us normal folk. I bet some of them can’t even fathom where we’re coming from. They’ve never had to fight for their rights, or fight for their meals.”

You listened intently, breaking out into a grin, “You should do speeches. That was really good.”

“Speeches?” Hobie repeated and laughed. He had always been more of an action-oriented person. “Nah, I think I’d make a right hash of a speech. I prefer screaming into a mic.”

“You sing?”

“Decently,” Hobie shrugged, “Got a band. It’s called ‘Anarchic Arachnids’.”

Your eyes widened, immediately recognizing the name, “Oh, shit! I was gonna go to one of your concerts but then some work stuff came up.”

“Shame. We’re quite good in my opinion,” Hobie smirked.

“Yes, the lead singer’s opinion is very reliable,” you said sarcastically.

“So, you got a team like me? Or are you rollin’ solo?”

“I’m rollin’ solo,” you told him with a light shrug, “Well, mostly. I used to go out with some work friends sometimes, but then Osborn raised the taxes, so I’ve got barely anything on me now. I gotta steal food from shops just to have enough.”

“Stealin’ from the shops, eh?” Hobie nudged you playfully with a smirk, “Me too. Though I haven’t eaten anything much good since the riots started. All the shops near me got burned down or looted, so I've barely got anything to scrape by.”

Your heart hurt at Hobie’s words—no person should struggle to eat, and it hurt even more so because you considered Hobie a friend.

“That’s a bunch of bullshit,” you frowned, reaching over to place a supportive hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you come back to my place? I’m not the best cook, but I do make some good beans on toast…Mostly because it’s cheap and easy, so I’ve perfected it, but still. I can make you a meal and also give you some cans to keep you going for a bit.”

“You offerin’ me food?” Hobie chuckled. It wasn’t that he thought it was stupid or a bad offer; he was clearly pleased but surprised. “I’d appreciate that. Means a lot, ya understand? Don’t even matter if I go back with you or just take some food, I appreciate your kindness.”

“I’ll do both. C’mon, I don’t live too far away,” you said and grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the sofa with you.

Instead of leaving with you, Hobie wrapped his arms around you and hugged tightly.

“Really, thanks,” he murmured and you could only laugh to yourself.

Seems like you wouldn’t be solo any longer.

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sungbeam · 1 year ago

Text

𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒 — teaser!

nonidol!kim sunwoo x fem!reader

you never thought your humble, little podcast would ever touch somebody's soul like it did one kim sunwoo's

▷ genre, teaser warnings. s2f2l, fluff, slight angst, humor, no specific warnings for the teaser

▷ projected release date. august 6th

▷ estimated wc. 20-25k haha,,,ha

this is the fifth installment of the love in unity series! this fic can be read as a standalone, but there will be references to the main plotline and all other yns will be referred to as _!yn

a/n: dude, i literally DRAGGED myself out of writer's block for this 😭😭 so pls reblog when it comes out 😎🤡

TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 500 WORDS)

By Saturday morning, Sunwoo had had enough of his own stubbornness and caved. He donned his headphones, grabbed his bag, and headed out the door to do some work in a cafe located on the Ave. There was one that his friend Jacob had recommended to the group awhile back, and Sunwoo hadn’t looked back since.

As he tuned into the episode, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, shivering against the cold, winter winds. February weather was a doozy, and a hot cup of coffee or hot chocolate sounded so very sexy right this moment.

“Welcome to Songbird Station! I’m your host, DJ Dove, and you’re probably wondering what the title of this episode even means, or why I sent that weird, cryptic voice message the other night.”

The traffic light turned green, and Sunwoo began to cross the road, the coffee shop in sight. His hands were beginning to get clammy in his pockets.

“Don’t riot, but friends, it means exactly what it says—” As you exhaled out a breathy kind of laugh, Sunwoo inhaled sharply.

“Helpful,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed into the warmth of the coffee shop. He shook the cold out of his body before hopping into the line to order.

“ —I did actually land myself a date yesterday. Honestly, I’m not really much of a dater; I never really had time with it over the past years because I would, uh… well, I would rather stay in and do music, y’know?”

The corners of Sunwoo’s lips curled up into a smile. Maybe he had been nervous before about this episode’s topic of choice, but he should have had more faith in you. Rather than speak about the date the entire episode, you always managed to worm in a discussion about your passions, and that was the kind of talk that had first gotten Sunwoo hooked. There was something so attractive about hearing or witnessing a person gush about their passions and ambitions—the way their eyes lit up, their posture righted itself, how they smiled so big that one could hear it in their tone of voice.

He was happy that you went out on a date, because you deserved to meet someone who treated you as special as you were. You were a good person, and it wasn’t fair that he was being so salty about it, especially when he was too chicken to—

“Sunwoo?”

His soul practically fell out of his body. “Shit—” He swore, yanking his headphones down with eyes as wide as the earphones. He whirled around to greet you with a flushed face, red like the old Christmas decorations still hanging up from the crown moldings.

You were standing right behind him with a mildly amused look on your face, your lips pressed into a smile and eyes crinkled in absolute delight. You were similarly bundled up like he was to no doubt shield you from the cold on your way here. “Sorry I scared you! I probably should have, like, tapped your shoulder or something, huh?”

Sunwoo let out a nervous laugh and cupped the back of his neck, the skin there warm to the touch. “Oh, uh, no problem at all. I just kinda…”

“Get scared easy?” You offered.

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @sodafy @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction

ra taglist: @oi-miya @sickvision @stealanity @magnificentjudementmoneyhands @inthesunnn @igotkpoopsss @letsnotdoanything @rreneeeeee @dajanxekiwi @jenowithjaem @moonyswolf @sleepymoon27 @fictionlover100 @hwanunjin @zlebooks @mcu-incorrect @moontyuns @elljj @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kittenyu @makgeolli-jw @midnight--rin @noosummert @yongi-lee @ivesdotcom @rockinrebelyay @blogisabelleberubeblr @ljy115 @tocupid @matchaoreocrepes

#deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #kim sunwoo x reader #sunwoo x reader #the boyz drabble #the boyz oneshot #the boyz fluff #the boyz scenario #the boyz imagines #kim sunwoo scenarios #kim sunwoo drabbles #kim sunwoo oneshots #kim sunwoo imagines #kim sunwoo fluff #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo drabbles #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo oneshots

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klausinamarink · 1 year ago

Text

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 next: Part 8

spoilers but a phone call gets through!

“You’re a thousand percent sure?”

Mike groans as he checks down the school halls, “Yes, Lucas. How many times do I gotta tell you that?”

“Well, maybe until I’m positive that we’re not having a collective auditory hallucination or the weirdo isn’t tricking us.” Lucas crosses his arms. Beside Dustin, El mutters “auditory hallucination” to herself with furrowed eyebrows.

“You guys hear that?!” Dustin exclaims too loudly, earning equally loud shushes. “Sorry, but El just said a scientific word without mispronouncing it! She really does have superpowers…”

“Not now, Dustin.” Mike hushes as they finally get to the AV club. He unlocks the door and lets everyone inside after peeking in. He guides El to sit in front of the radio while Lucas and Dustin turn it on.

Dustin won’t lie - he’s super excited to see El use her powers for the radio. He couldn’t believe it when she made Will’s voice come out. Will! Alive and singing!

But he’s still confused over Mike’s news of Will being with someone named Eddie. Eddie who? is their biggest question but El can’t say because she doesn’t know his last name or how to describe him.

“He’s a friend.” She keeps telling them.

Dustin prays it’s not Eddie Tremblay from fifth grade. The little sucker doesn’t deserve to be Will’s new friend after his football landed on their rocket project last month.

“Aaaand we’re in!” He announces, hopping behind El. Mike and Lucas squish against him even though they clearly have much more space.

El closes her eyes and listens to the whining static. Then the static changes through channels, voices quickly overlapping until they get more comprehensive. Then the voices get compressed into six, four, two-

“-Control to Major Tom..”

Dustin shoots his hand forward and grabs one of the speakers. But so does Lucas and Mike and now they’re slapping each other’s hands until Lucas finally takes it and yells, “Will, can you read us? Over!”

“‘Your circuit’s dead, there’s something wrong..’”

At the sound of the second person, Dustin’s first thought is oh thank God, it’s not Tremblay. Then his second thought is hm, this Eddie guy sounds kinda cool. Then his third thought is oh my god, we gotta talk to Will!

“Will! Do you copy? Over!”

“Will, where are you?”

“You feeling a bit better so far?”

“Tell Eddie we’re saying hi! Who is he? Over!”

“I’m getting cold again..”

“Me too. C’mon here.”

“Will! We’re right here!”

“How the hell are they not hearing us?”

“I wish I could go home…”

“So do I…”

El gives out a painful gasp and the radio explodes into flames. Dustin manages to extinguish it before the rest of the room catches, but the fire alarm goes off.

They all stare at the now-ruined transmitter, their only chance of connecting with Will and his mysterious new friend.

—

Eddie’s definitely missing.

It’s a fact that Jeff grows more sure of every day since Wayne Munson had asked him for Eddie’s secretive hideouts.

He keeps trying to ignore the seed of dread in his stomach, but it’s impossible now with the slightly somber atmosphere in the school after the morning announcement of Will Byers’ death. The fact that Eddie hasn’t shown up for classes or in the cafeteria again today isn’t helping either.

“If Munson’s still gonna be on his bender, he should’ve at least cancelled this week’s session.”

Jeff takes a half-open Skittles bag from Maya’s tray and throws it at Evan, making the two members jump. Maya because those are her Skittles and Evan because the bag hits his chest making more pieces fly out on the table.

“Eddie’s not on a bender.” Jeff hisses at Evan. Across him, Frankie is giving him one of his Don’t-Make-This-Any-Worse looks.

Evan huffs and crosses his arms, “Oh, yeah? Then where the hell is he?”

“Definitely not on a bender of any kind!”

“Gee thanks, that clears things up.”

Jeff’s about to snap back, but Frankie discreetly kicks his leg with a warning glare. It might be a good call because Jeff doesn’t know what to say next. Another defence of Eddie, for sure, but nothing to quench the rest of the club’s antsy-ness.

“Maybe he’s gone to a concert. Like hitchhiked to Indy or Chicago?” Maya asks after picking up her spilled candy.

“But he has a van?” Daniel, the senior member of Hellfire and their current drummer, frowns pointedly.

“What concert could’ve he gone to? Is there even any band playing in this bum state?” Evan raises his eyebrows.

“I dunno, Dio?”

“They’re touring in the UK right now.” Frankie says. Jeff shoots him a bewildered look that’s the equivalent to screaming are you kidding me? Frankie gives him a Play-Along-With-It look.

“Well, that settles it.” Evan raps his knuckles on the table. “Munson’s saved a fucking ticket to the goddamned Iron Lady’s territory and is breeding chicks in Dio’s mosh pit as we speak.”

Jeff stands up, no longer feeling hungry. He throws his half-eaten sandwich at Evan. The other boy gives out a disgusted shriek as the mayonnaise hits and stains his shirt. “Dude! What-”

“Shame on you.” Jeff keeps his voice even, just quiet enough for only Hellfire to hear him. Maybe it would somehow reach Eddie wherever the hell he is right now. “The only good thing about Eddie being absent is that he isn’t ripping the skins off of you and your characters right now. Especially you, Evan.”

He stares Evan down, who visibly gulps. “Eddie took you in the club’s open arms because he saw you were a loner who needed the right people to hang out with or you would’ve been one of the bullies. And this is how you thank him?”

He looks at the rest of the members and points at them accusingly. “When Eddie comes back from whatever he’s doing, I hope that rest of y’all feel guilty for thinking he doesn’t care. Because he absolutely does.” Then he grabs his bag and leaves the cafeteria without a second thought.

Outside is chilly as usual and the breeze helps relax Jeff’s nerves. For a while at least.

He stands at the parking lot, trying to think what he should do when he hears someone running over. He looks up and groans.

“Frankie, leave me alone, man.”

“So you haven’t heard anything from Eddie?” Frankie’s voice isn’t accusing but his look might’ve been.

“No. Not since the band practice days ago.” Jeff walks away but Frankie still follows him. “Then his uncle came and asked if I knew any places Eddie frequents. I told you guys that already.”

“Doesn’t stop Evan’s stupid theories.” Frankie mutters.

“You should’ve shut him up!”

“Are you kidding? You did better than what I could’ve done.”

“Words are stronger than death looks.”

Frankie snorts. He goes quiet as they reach the end of the school parking lot. Then he says, “Are you going to search for Eddie?”

Jeff stops. Turns and stares at him. “Uh, yeah? I mean, from what he said, Wayne’s probably already doing that. So, I dunno, I’m probably gonna do the bare minimum. Like where am I going to look, dude?”

Frankie doesn’t answer. His face is strangely pale and looking at something behind Jeff. He follows his friend’s phase and feels the dread well up in his mouth when he sees a poster on a nearby telephone pole.

He doesn’t need a closer look to recognize the black and white photo of Eddie from two months ago grinning at him or the large word MISSING written in Sharpie above it.

He tries very hard not to notice that it’s stapled right below Will Byers’ already wrinkled poster.

It’s a very strong feeling to see your best friend’s missing poster a few days after you last saw him alive.

Jeff forces to tear his eyes away from Eddie’s captured monochrome cheeriness. “Know what? Fuck it. Let’s find him. Wanna start at the woods?”

—

There’s something about singing quietly in the nightscape hell mirror version of your bedroom that makes Eddie’s fingers twitch to jolt it down somewhere.

After the meltdown at the house, Will had grew more quiet. Eddie had rocked him until Will complained of motion sickness and then Eddie had held him even when they slept.

After piggybacking the kid and singing “Should I Stay Or Should I Go?” (at least until Eddie admitted death by earworms and convinced a change to “Space Oddity”) on the way back to Forest Hills, Will seemed to be back in his original spirits. Still quiet but no longer on the verge of tears next to Eddie. Although his coughs started to sound more wet and shook his small frame like a leaf.

Eddie prays to god that he can speak to Wayne this time. He hopes his uncle to come up with a cooler code system than Mrs. Byers and maybe get them out somehow.

But the trailer is quiet, save for Will’s whistled breathing as he sleeps in Eddie’s arms, the old itchy quilt cocooning them both. He has to stay up. Keep a lookout for the demogorgon in this hell land and for Wayne in the real world. But he feels so tired. If he can rest his eyes for just a moment…

The sound of muffled crying wakes him up.

—

The longer Wayne stares at the posters, the bigger the impulse to rip them up grows.

After Hopper left, he had went back inside and started on making the Missing posters for Eddie. The hardest part of it had been trying to find the right photo of his nephew and he had held back tears at how much Eddie had grown. How happier he looks.

He had printed copies at the library, keeping his head down from curious and pitying eyes. Christi Waldon was nice enough not to charge him for the fees.

Then he started putting the posters up and Wayne had felt like he was making a mistake.

Nobody never said anything how difficult it is to go around town again, putting a poster with your child’s face silently begging strangers who may disliked them to find them, and to do all of this without the police helping.

Wayne had printed 100 copies. He only managed to put up 18 of them before it became too much and hurried home.

Now there’s a pile of 82 posters with Eddie’s face staring up at him on the table. Wayne can’t bring himself to rip them up no matter what his mind demands it. He has a new superstition that if he does, Eddie will never be found alive.

He checks the time. Seeing it’s only after six, he sighs heavily and takes out his cigarette. He’s briefly overcome with the memory of catching a fourteen year old Eddie trying to smoke and how his smart cookie of a nephew swallowed the lit cigarette, immediately threw up, and sobbed while Wayne had to sit down so he wouldn’t break his own ass from laughing so far. After they’d both calmed down, Wayne showed him how to smoke properly and said-

He said…

What did he say?

Something erupts from his mouth. He clamps a hand over, suddenly worrying that he just got sick. But there’s no taste of bile. Only wet salt. He takes his hand off and, ah. He’s crying.

Wayne gives a wet laugh. Then it gasps into another sob. He covers his mouth again, unable to hold the tears back.

Above him, the lights flicker.

It feels almost comforting.

Wayne sniffs, watching as the bulbs hang on to its dear life of electricity. Then one of the lamps next to the couch start flickering as well. Slow and rhythmic.

The sadness does go away, but it makes Wayne feel the back of his neck hairs stand up.

—

Eddie drops his hand from the lights, stomping over to the phone. “Fuck this, now’s the chance.”

Will glances at him from where he’s crouching by the lights, still tired from being jostled awake so soon, “Eddie?”

He turns to him and says, “Little Byers the Vanished, how does one make a landline in the Vale of Shadows?”

“You, uh, just pick it up-”

Eddie does exactly that.

“Wait! It won’t even last-!”

—

The phone rings with a shrill.

Wayne snaps his head over to it. He’s breathing slowly, watching the landline like it’s his childhood spider.

The atmosphere in his trailer feels suddenly colder. As if there are ghosts present. Waiting.

The phone rings and rings until it gets to voicemail, his gruff message for the last decade. “You’ve reached the Munsons. Leave a message after the beep.”

There’s nothing after the beep.

Wayne looks at the lights again. The ceiling light has stopped but ones over the kitchen and door are flickering this time.

The phone rings again.

He stands up slowly, walking over to the phone. It rings louder to his ears now. He tries to ignore the sudden sense of a presence behind and beside him as he picks the phone up and holds it to his ear.

He hears static as if the caller has a bad connection.

He clears his throat and speaks, “Wayne Munson speakin’.”

The static crackles with some kind of harsh breathing. It’s loud to make Wayne cringe away and hang up-

“..Wayne..”

He freezes. The anxiety vanishes in an instant. “..Eddie?” He chokes out.

“..Wayne!”

“Oh my lord…” Wayne clutches the phone closer. “You’re alive, right? Eddie! Tell me where are you!”

“..I’m-”

The phone bursts into literal shock. He drops it with a yell and it clatters to the ground, dead.

That was him. That was Eddie’s voice.

Breathing raggedly, Wayne’s gaze snaps up to the lamps flashing maniacally. The air around him feels desperate and sinks down upon him. Anxiety comes back as quick as it comes, squashing on the brief spot of hope he felt.

“Nah, fuck this.” He mutters as he swipes his keys and runs out of the door. He can’t deal with more ghosts at this hour.

—

“Nonono—NO!”

Eddie slams his hands against the lights too hard. The pulsing glass bulbs nearly crack under the pressure.

None of it stops the sound of the truck engine starting.

“Wayne, it’s me! Can’t you hear me?!” Eddie’s throat is already dry from screaming, but he doesn’t care about it. “UNCLE WAYNE! JUST STOP AND LISTEN TO ME!”

He runs outside to the ever barren yard. He tries not to think about Wayne leaving just like how his dad did in his very last visit. How he had tried to chase after his dad’s car until Wayne stopped him. How he had been a crying mess while Wayne told him that both of them will stay together from now on.

“WAYNE, PLEASE! YOU PROMISED TO STAY!”

The truck drives away, farther and farther. If Eddie can catch him-

His lungs constrict themselves again. He stumbles, scraping his knees and palms on the ground. He coughs, gulping in too many shaky breaths that almost tastes like glass shards. He calls out-

“Come back! Come back!”

It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

His throat hurts.

The truck disappears. The sounds of the trailers’ muted everyday life and his own painful wheezing replace it.

Eddie is vaguely aware of Will shuffling up next to him and wrapping his arms around his shaking shoulders.

Taglist: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @demolitionjetstar @hbyrde36 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @soaringornithopter @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium @newtstabber @little-trash-ghost

#hellfire club: oh man Eddie’s an asshole for ditching us #Jeff: YOU are all assholes for talking shit about him #eddie: (getting old traumas resurfacing at an usually bad moment in an alternate dimension with a child stuck to his side) this is fine :)#narration: he is not fine and it Gets Worse #yeah space oddity is on the nose for that bit but shhh #eddie and will in the upside down au #the party #jeff stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things #wayne munson #eddie munson #will byers #stranger things #klaus writes

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kayfabesource · 2 years ago

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* BACKSTAGE ROLES MASTERLIST !

because there's so much more than photographers and makeup artists. jobs on this list can apply to most any wrestling promotion, so you can find something fun and unique for your oc. i found many of these by searching job titles on linkedin, so they're very much real! if you found this at all helpful, please reblog / like.

(keep in mind many of these titles can have intern, junior, associate, senior, & director titles ahead of them – based on experience. for example: associate producer, or senior producer)

creative.

art director

motion graphics designer

graphic designer

music producer

videographer

photo editor

photographer

costume / gear designer

marketing / pr.

project manager

marketing manager

marketer

social media specialist

social media manager

branding and communications specialist

content manager

media relations

public relations specialist

human resources / talent relations.

human resources coordinator

recruitment manager

hr operations specialist

talent operations

talent relations

travel and logistics coordinator

manager of talent appearances

payroll & benefits manager

personal assistant

production.

producer

production assistant

director

writer

live events.

athletic trainer

lighting designer

live event production specialist

retail

merchandise coordinator

carpenter

broadcast engineer

editor

sound/av engineer

administrative.

information technology (it)

logistics supervisor

administrative assistant

globals sales & partnerships

attorney

#rph #oc help #rp help #masterlist #jobs masterlist

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klavery · 6 months ago

Note

I have a silly hc that Avery is scared of bug types and ghost types bc silly psychic type weaknesses. I thought you’d appreciate that tidbit

OK BUT I LITERALLY HC THE SAME THING ITS SO FUNNY IT MAJES SO MUCH SENSE. i focus A LOT on ave being scared of bug types as i am notoriously afraid of bugs irl soo projection. but its funny when averys the one thats scared gdhrf❤. they swear they love all psychic types no matter what but dottler/orbeetle and rabsca really push their limits & they r sooo internally conflicted abt it lool (HE HAS NIGHTMARES. ABOUT BEING ABDUCTED BY GIGANTAMAX ORBEETLE. IVE ALWAYS WANTED 2 MAKE A MINI-COMIC ABT IT SJDGH). and he asks himself every day of his life how on earth he managed 2 fall 4 someone with a moth on her head of all things. shes always teasing them with her bugs & they r so so tortured❤ shes like a pseudo bug trainer 2 me (yes drapion isnt a bug type anymore but it basically is one ok AND its dark now and avery isnt a fan of that either hsgsh) i think klara liked playing with bugs as a kid she thinks they r soo super cute. ANYWAYS TJANK U 4 SENDING THIS these headcanons can b so funnie & we r so cool & epic 4 sharing the same brain

#hollyposts #klavery

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allthecanadianpolitics · 2 years ago

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A new nightclub in southwestern Manitoba's biggest city is serving up drinks in support of sobriety.

Glen Kruck had dreamed of bringing a sober club to Brandon for years. His vision became a reality at the start of January with the launch of Club 1202, in the heart of the city's downtown at 1202 Rosser Ave.

"I thought, 'We have to do something to help people stay in recovery,'" said Kruck, the manager of special projects for the non-profit Brandon Community Health and Housing Association, which runs Club 1202.

The idea for the bar came from a longtime friend who experienced alcohol addiction, said Kruck. When his friend began his recovery, he would lament that he had nowhere to go for something as simple as shooting a game of pool, since that would involve going into a bar.

"That was the seed for me," Kruck said. [...]

Kruck says the new club fits in with the overall programming of the Community Health and Housing Association, which provides housing support for people experiencing homelessness and programs for people recovering from addiction.

Club 1202 is in a previously unused space in the basement of an apartment building owned by the housing association. It was furnished using reusable supplies from the Building Re-Fit Store, another one of the association's enterprises. [...]

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

#cdnpoli #Winnipeg #Manitoba #addiction treatment #Healthcare #alcohol cw

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av-industry-blog · 1 year ago

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📝 AV Pros, Ever Felt Overwhelmed Writing Project Plans? 🤯

Planning an AV project can be like solving a jigsaw puzzle blindfolded. Complex tech jargon, missed details, and endless revisions - it's a headache. But don't worry, you're not alone, and there's a solution.

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Because in the world of AV, clarity is your superpower. Share this post to help your fellow AV enthusiasts! 🚀🔊

#audio visual #av technology #design #av design #av industry #av #software #scopeofwork #avproject #project management #sow #scope of work sow

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delafiseaseses · 8 months ago

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So, from the poll I did Tapper is very obscure (only a quarter of voters knew him) so let's do a deep dive into this King.

Now, this is a 'deep dive' so we am gonna be goin' on for quite a bit 'ere. Here's a courtesy read more.

Firstly where is Tapper? Well, here's a camera angle leaving the area with the Kings School of Impersonation.

Facing northwest from the Freeside blue bus door, down the street to a field.

Even at this range it might be hard to see Tapper, his dark clothes blend in with the night... I probably should've waited for the day to get these shots, oh well. T' compensate I've placed a red rectangle around Tapper.

And here's the brown-haired King up close, next to the Water Pump saying his ambient line "The pump is property of The King. You'll need to pay if you want a drink."

Initiating Dialogue with Tapper

Initiating dialogue he reiterates this fact to you. "The King controls the water pump. If you want water, you need to pay like everyone else."

An' y'am given 4 options "Why charge for water?" "How much for a drink?" and "Can I buy bottled water?" (the 4th option is just a 'Time for me to go') We will do these options in descending order because that makes sense.

"Why charge for water?"

"If we let everyone run amok, the damn NCR would shut us down. Gotta have some way to regulate usage."

Now, this line isn't nessercerily a contradiction of anything anyone else says, but it is unusual. Nobody else ever references the idea that the NCR would 'shut down' the pump if it was free. In fact, let's get into this a bit deeper.

The Origins of the Water Pump Aside

Let's briefly talk about the origins of the water pump. It started as a Followers of the Apocalypse project as Julie Farkas says this "With the help of Bill Ronte, we were able to install a water pump just west of here, but the Kings quickly took control of the pump."

She also says "Bill Ronte installed that pump a few years ago, back when he was sober. It was a major improvement for the community. But lately The Kings have started charging locals to use it - and NCR squatters twice as much. That'll come to no good."

Julie's perspective on the reason for this control of the pump is part of her explanation of The Kings. I won't include the part of their origin, but she says this "They've done a lot of good for the community - but that seems to be changing. The flood of NCR squatters has been an affront to them. I guess that explains the situation with the water pump. Usually The King wouldn't let his crew bully folks around like that."

Now Julie specifically says she guessed the reason she gave for why The Kings are doing what they're doing. If Tapper is telling the truth here, it's possible he charges "Squatters" extra out of a misplaced sense of retribution. Which is fucked up, don't get me wrong, but its a reasonin' that makes some sense.

It sort of falls apart when you remember that Old Bill Ronte himself is a New Californian as Dixon the chem dealer explicitly says "Those fools are from NCR. I love seeing those squatters in agony. We were doing just fine before those shits came here and made a mess of things. We don't need NCR eggheads wandering around confusing things." (he's talkin' about both Bill Ronte and Jacob Hoff here).

Now we don't know if Tapper is being honest and somebody from the NCR came and told The Kings to quit it with the free water, if Tapper is lying as justification for the takeover and the charging for water pump use to people he dislikes. Or if it is a mixture of the two. I don't 'ave any definitive answers 'ere. Water licenses are a thing, but that's mostly for the water of Lake Mead, which the NCR has claimed is theirs due to managing the pipes.

"How much for a drink?"

"Just a few caps for a good long swig." 10 caps specifically, and his "Don't get wise. We charge per use, so make that first drink worth the caps." Tapper isn't kidding there.

It was orange of 'no crime' when I started taking this sip, but as you can see its instantly red again. Still, keep the key held down and you can get as much water as you need.

We don't know if that's Local rate, NCR rate or a rate that applies only to people travellin' the area.

For completeness here's Tapper's "Never Mind" dialogue.

"Anything else you want?" Not a very interesting line, for a not very interesting option.

"Can I buy bottled water?"

"Sure thing." and the trade menu opens. Tapper right now has 12 Purified Water and 128 caps. He also has some 10mm cases which are free to grab if you want them for some reason.

And when I said 'Time for me to go.' Tapper, as a Yuri Lowenthal character, said:

"Later." I'm sure some of you can hear this image. Hahahaa. Antony's voice misplaced in other characters as is normal.

So we're done?

So we're done, right? We exhausted Tapper's dialogue, we're done with this?

No, actually, we're not done at all. This is Fallout New Vegas and this is a character I'm highlightin', of course there's more.

You know High Times? The one for Julie Farkas where you help 'Old' Bill Ronte and Jacob Hoff deal with their addictions? We mentioned Bill's connection to the origin of the pump. Well, during the quest connected to the two Julie says this about Bill Ronte when we ask about him for that quest

"Old Bill Ronte is an exceptionally skilled machinist. He could fix the problems we've been having with Freeside's water pump, if he sobered up."

An explicit reference to the water pump is made with Bill Ronte. Not the only one as I told you in the origin of the pump (I could get screenshots of those two, but I can't be arsed).

After dealing with Bill Ronte and Jacob Hoff we go back to Tapper. I should point out that this door near where Bill sits leads fairly close to Tapper's pump, just a little detail. He migfht've lived here back when he and the Followers installed the pump too.

Anyway, after finishin' High Times we return to Tapper and he has new dialogue.

The Reward

"Hey, you helped out Bill Ronte so the Followers worked out a deal for you to drink free." Tapper only mentions Bill because what happens to Jacob Hoff don't matter to this. I find it interestin' that the Followers apparently leveraged this deal for us, Julie doesn't mention this at all. I'm not sure if this means water prices will be better now in exchange for the help of Bill, but at least the pump won't break and leave Freeside waterless anytime soon.

Also that replaces his greeting, so any time you talk to Tapper he will reiterate this fact.

And, indeed, from then on drinking at the pump isn't 'stealing' and there's no way to give Tapper 10 caps for it.

Of course... the Atomic Wrangler and Mick and Ralph's both 'ave sinks that can provide one with clean water for free and are in places that're more convenient to reach, but its a nice sentiment at least, hey?

Conclusion

So, that's Tapper. He's a small character, it's very possible you never noticed he existed, but now you know him. I think the game is made more interesting by his existence.

#fallout #new vegas #fallout new vegas #freeside #the kings #the kings fnv #followers of the apocalypse #the followers of the apocalypse #julie farkas

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gumspine · 7 months ago

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HELLO this is horrendously late work was kicking my ass but YES i'm juice and i'll be writing for jung namoo! he's a 22 y/o production assistant/audiovisual technician (yes they still exist) (i like to imagine that it's a bit of a simultaneously hyperfuturistic but also a thing of the past type paradox that namoo precisely loves) + he's also part of the glitched-out subplot as moneybags!

linking namoo's profile + wip plots page for easy access and there's more abt him under the cut, but b4 i get into it: if you'd like to plot, please like this post and i'll msg you <3

BACKGROUND

family: parents were low level but pioneering programmers for iron fist! which would've been well and good if they hadn't gotten themselves embroiled in betting on matches/tournaments to the extent that they would tamper with code or collude with fighters to win bets. orbit found out and suddenly mom and pops were "volunteering" to "work" in the outer world

namoo and his older brother (gureum) were 9 and 12 at the time; guardianship went to a family relative who squandered their parents' payouts liberally. namoo and gureum tolerated it for a bit, but eventually found a good chance to run off w/ what little money was left and live in the belt by themselves

spent his teens doing odd jobs and gigs, picked up a lot of skills along the way. procedural learner and is what one wld describe as being good with his hands

in light of the above ^ he opted for vocational training instead of university! financially it was also the most practical choice. got introduced to PA work by an instructor he had at vocational school, and he follows orders well enough to be delegated miscellaneous grunt work around set without worry. eventually wiggles his way up to actual PA tasks, w/c is where he also picked up a lot of his initial av tech knowledge!

decides to stick to tv/film/event production by the time he's 20, and currently has trade certifications on electronics/communication systems, audiovisual tech, modern media + three-quarters of a term in event management (this is namoo pretty much)

currently still project-based/freelance, but he's rarely out of a gig because he's got that head-down no-complaints hardworking reliability that cost-cutting bosses just luuuv (it's a capitalist corporatocratic world after all)

(ok but seriously he's cultivated a rep for like. being helpful and having initiative and needing little supervision to get stuff done so it follows that he always gets called on whenever production/event companies need PA/tech help!)

PERSONALITY

at a glance: u can immediately tell he's the youngest child/baby brother bc he's very. cutesy and affectionate? loves to tease and be a lil gremlin

despite his boyish tendencies, he's far from immature. brother raised him using their parents and relatives as cautionary tales (in the sense that they sucked as human beings lol) so he grew up a decent kid, if a bit of a doormat

carries himself well on the outside but deep down he has pretty much internalized the prejudice he's experienced due to living in the belt and being poor so his self-esteem is six feet in the mud. not in a wallowy self-pitying sense but like. his instinct is to make himself small and take up as little space as possible. also of the thinking that if he's treated badly he should just put up with it because who is he to complain? he's nobody

growing up his mindset has shaped up to prioritize survival over pride so if self-esteem has to take a backseat it'll take a backseat

his glitch (moneybags, aka he gets unlimited merits for an hour if he claps under a very specific circumstanceㅡw/c he's unaware of! so it isn't something he can intentionally replicate yet) has also put him in a tough spot w/ authorities before (basically he thought the amt of money in his acct wasn't real and just went around clicking "buy" on a bunch of stuff... sorry he was 13... anyway yeah the transactions went through. cue police sirens bc what is a boy from the belt doing w/ that much money)

managed to evade interrogation/escalation by the skin of his teeth thnx to his big bro but like! ya boy is traumatized indefinitely. hates coming across/potentially talking to the terra equivalent of law enforcement or authorities

not to mention that their relatives (to a certain degree aware that their parents were virtual-deathed (?) bc things went sideways with orbit and their gambling) used to taunt namoo abt receiving the same punishment for any little thing so

he has actually accidentally triggered the glitch twice more after that first instance, though he's handled those two times a lot better and with more tact! thnx again in part to his bro so he's not as terrified of his glitch as he initially was. used it to pay the bills and purchase a couple other stuff LMAO but he still gets anxious around authority though

he's also a bit of a conspiracy theorist because he's well-aware that glitches can exist! he's proof of it! doesn't go so far as to interact w/ the tinhat community but he reads the posts n forums... has a bit of a vested interest as well in like. people being sent to the outer world via virtual death against their will because of what may or may not have happened 2 his parents (he doesn't rlly know the truth yet)

sidenote: even though iron fist is somewhat entwined w/ the way his childhood has tumbled downhill, he still luvs the game (as an audience; he can't play for the life of him) and luvs being part of the tech team for iron fist events/tournaments bc it was a big part of like. being a teen in the belt and just having this outlet regardless of how tough life was

MISC

very much artistically inclined, which is why he was initially drawn to tv/film PA work! my 31st century tech lore is that production sets use hyper-realistic life-scale "holographic" projections instead of props or shooting on location which! def sucks for propmasters and authenticity but like. even though this world is virtual and crazy advanced and the sky's the limit, it would still take a creative eye to make beautiful things! u could have the tools but w/o that human touch it wouldn't quite be the same. so he's out here sticking it out as that should-be-a-thing-of-the-past human aspect to a creative endeavor that has endured literal millennia. even though ofc it prolly has changed a lot from our time

his work is predominantly on the technical side but he's interested and has a knack for design! specifically w/ holography as the medium. one of the stuff he probably bought w/ his glitch money is the holography version of a wacom tablet

one day would love to lean into that and pick up design as his main fare but for now he earns steadily with PA/av tech work and he's really quite good at it to the point that he's kind of moving up in the world a little? so he's content! not to mention all the backstage perks of getting to work iron fist gigs lol he's just a boy fr

has had the opportunity to be additional tech help with both of last year's iron fist majors so he's hoping he'll get called on to that gig again 🤞

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

ppl he grew up with in the the belt, roommates (they were able to move out of the belt eventually so he currently lives in a megabuilding! give him roomies he's super neat and considerate 💙 though downside is that he snores like a cartoon character), celebs he's either had the pleasure or displeasure of working with, iron fist folks (staff, fighters, maybe people whose parents knew his parents?), fellow tinfoil hat wearers, whatever it is let's write it!

#ts:intro #finally got this out... phew #WRITE WITH ME!!!

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spreadyovrwings · 2 months ago

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64 Oslo Square

"Companion' Middle English. From Old French 'compaignon', literally 'one who breaks bread with another.

Strapped for cash, John gets a job at a bakery as their new delivery boy. Juggling school and Queen and work is exhausting, but it's more than worth it. It's worth it because of you.

Warnings for this chapter: smut! soft sub/dom dynamics, pegging, a vague understanding of electronics, more smut, this is a sordid chapter lads

A/N: and here we have the penultimate chapter! have fun! let me know what you think!

Chapter 12

“I knew I liked you for a reason.”

John looked up.

“Mm? What’s that?”

He’d been sitting in the middle of your living room floor for hours now, cross-legged on a cushion, halfway between the sofa and the telly.

John’s work was spread out across your coffee table, a metal jigsaw puzzle that only he knew how to solve. There was a small wooden box, speaker cones, and a brick-sized 9 volt battery that you’d almost mistaken for an actual brick when you came in.

Not so long ago, this would have been a novel sight, but John was now as much a fixture of your home as the furniture. He spent most nights at yours now, and neither of you could’ve been any happier.

Smiling to yourself, you turned the page of your book, letting the fine edge of the paper slide against the pad of your thumb so that it creaked gently.

“Yeah. You’re a cheap date.”

“There’s nothing cheap about me, sweetheart.”

“‘ow long ‘ave you owned that shirt?”

“Since I was-”

“Yeah?”

“Since I was fifteen.”

“There it is.”

John had come up earlier than you, while you were still closing up. He offered to help, like he always did, but you just smiled and waved him on to your flat with a tired smile and the promise that you’d be up soon.

When you got in, just twenty minutes later, John was kneeling on the carpet, pulling what looked like the guts of a car or a computer from his bag. How he’d managed to get it all in the ridiculous basket on the front of his borrowed bike, you’d never know.

Now he was rearranging these frayed wires and twisted scraps of metal into a specific shape, one he’d made a thousand times before.

John’s hands moved with certainty, his gaze focused and keen. He clearly knew what he was doing, even though you couldn’t even begin to interpret these abstract shapes into something solid and real.

“So the dumpster divin’, that’s a regular thing?”

You’d caught him at it the other day. You’d gone out into the alley to meet the delivery driver and found John with his head in the skip, his long legs kicking into the air, just minutes before his shift began.

When you called his name, John lost his balance and he had to shoot out a hand to grab the side of the skip. When he finally lifted his head your way, he grinned and triumphantly held up a bunch of wires attached to a circuit board, like he was lifting the World Cup.

“People throw away tons of good stuff. You never know what you might find, if you know where to look.”

“And that’s good stuff, is it?”

“I know it doesn’t look like much now but these are actually pretty good finds. Parts can be expensive. If someone throws away an old radio or a good size battery, you can do tons with it.”

You cocked your head to the side, frowning at the mess on your table.

“And you’re makin’… Modern art?”

John smiled.

“I’m making an amp.”

“For fun or to use?”

“Both. It’s just to practise with when I’m away from the studio but if it sounds good enough, I might bring it to rehearsals. I can’t really afford to buy one right now.”

“So you decided to make one.” You reached forward and cupped his cheek, tilting his face up to yours so that you could kiss his forehead. “You’re so clever, John.”

John hummed, his eyes sliding closed as you kissed his nose, then the corner of his mouth, your thumb sweeping across his cheek.

“Yeah, well, don’t ask me where any countries are.”

He tilted his head back further, asking for a proper kiss, and grinned when he got his wish.

John scooped up his project and shuffled nearer so that you could see what he was working on.

“Here, look.”

It was only small, completely portable and light enough to be carried with one hand, though he kept both on the little box to keep it safe. John had retro-fitted the circuit board and wiring he’d foraged into a tiny cabinet, then installed two speakers, a quarter-inch input jack and a volume knob.

“I think I’m gonna take that off though,” John grinned. “It sounds better turned all the way up.”

The amp brought out his two sides: the studious, meticulous engineer, and the long-haired rocker looking for a good time. You loved them both, you loved all of him.

“It's very cool, John. Have you always been this good with your ‘ands? Bet the girls were all clamouring over you at school.”

You’d meant it as a joke but John blew out a long breath like a punctured tire.

“God, no. No, never been very clever there either. Didn’t think I’d ever work up the courage to ask you out.”

You snorted.

“Neither did I. Thought I was seeing signs that weren’t there after a while. Half the time, I was sure it was just me.”

John’s hands stilled. He looked up from his work, his expression dawn into such a look of amazement and bewilderment that you had to laugh.

“What!”

“You’re joking. The amount of times I almost died because I thought I’d said something daft or put you off or embarrassed myself in front of you, love, I- I liked you so much. I was an idiot around you.”

“You weren’t!”

“I am! You make me feel…”

He couldn’t seem to find the words. Instead, John put down his project and moved to kneel on the floor between your parted legs.

Cheeks burning, you fought to keep your gaze steady as John took your hand and slipped it up his chest. His rings were cold against your skin, a reminder of your last night together, when you’d felt them pressed against a more sensitive part of you before John thought to pull them off with his teeth.

He pressed his palm against the back of your hand, flattening it over his pounding heart. Steady and reliable, just like the rest of him.

You let the rest of your noisy, ever-changing world melt away and honed in on the firm, strong thump thump thump of John’s heart, feeling it beat just for you.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you asked softly, not wanting to break the sudden fragile stillness.

John shrugged.

“I didn’t know if you liked me too.”

“Oh, give over. I know Mickey told you. And Gladys.”

“And Sandra.”

“Sandra? From next door, Sandra?”

“Yeah.”

“What does she know about anythin’?”

“She popped her head out the door the morning after I had dinner at yours. Apparently, you asked her a million questions. Were you worried about what to make me?”

“No…”

You poked his cheek, trying in vain to make his self-satisfied smile disappear. But John just kept on beaming.

“You were nervous, weren’t you. You wanted to impress me so badly.”

“The point is,” you went on, pressing your hand flat over John’s mouth to hide his smirk. “If you knew I’d say yes, why didn’t you ask me out?”

John rolled his eyes. He tucked his fingers over yours and gently moved them away from his mouth so that he had room to reply, though not far. His lips brushed the pads of your fingers as he spoke.

“I don’t know…”

“John?”

He sighed.

“I don’t have much. I mean, I’m- I’m working on it. I will have- Right now, I’ve got nothing. And you have this place and friends and goals and dreams, and you’re so sure of yourself and I just… I didn’t think I had a lot to offer you.”

Slowly, you began to smile. Oh, he knew how to make you melt. This sweet, smart boy, always thinking ten steps ahead. He didn’t want to even entertain the idea of dating you until he had a life to share with you.

Unable to resist, you slipped your hand around until you held his jaw between your fingers and leaned down.

“Well,” you said, speaking inches from his mouth. “I wouldn’t say you ‘ave nothin’.”

You caught the edge of John’s smile out of the corner of your eye before you kissed him, hoping he’d be able to feel how much you adored him in every moment. He was more than enough. He always had been. He was everything.

John hummed, discontented, when you pulled away. The tip of his nose nudged yours, quietly demanding another kiss, and you happily obliged.

Soon you lifted his head, your fingers still wrapped around his angular jaw, and led him up onto the sofa with you, one of his bony knees pressing into your hip, the other separating your thighs.

Groaning softly, John drew his tongue across your bottom lip, just as you slipped a hand into his hair.

Something shifted.

John pressed more firmly against you. The hand that he wasn’t using to prop himself up against the back of the sofa slipped round your waist, kneading at you persistently.

“Bed?”

“Bed.”

John took your hands and helped you to your feet, though your legs felt bandy and useless as he pulled you towards the bedroom.

You were on your back before you could think to be shy, your clothes gone and your smile wide.

John pulled off his shirt, his grey eyes focused and steady and fixed on you.

You held out your hand and he took it immediately, his smile bright with excitement as you guided him down on top of you.

“Have you been practising?” you asked between breathless, messy kisses. “Like I showed you?”

John nodded, his cheeks flushed.

“Mm, in the shower.”

“You wanna try tonight?”

“I…” John glanced away. “Yeah, okay.”

Smiling, you hooked your hands around his middle and ran your fingertips up and down John’s back, seeking out the angles of his shoulder blades and the soft depression of his spine. His body was second-nature to you no, every part of him was branded onto your memory. You’d know him with your eyes closed, with your hands tied behind your back.

“We don’t have to, love.”

“No, I’d like to!” John pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth, right on your warm smile. “I want to. But I’d like to make you feel good first, if that’s alright. I think it’ll help me relax to see you… Well, you.”

It was perhaps the fourth or fifth time that he’d initiated intimacy, and your heart began to race just as fast as it did that very first night. He was so sweet, so attentive and keen, you couldn’t recall a boy ever looking at you with such intent, or with such a wicked, excited gleam in his eye at the thought of touching you.

John kissed you slowly, purposefully, as his fingers wrapped around the zip of your trousers and dragged it down.

It made your tongue feel heavy in your mouth but thankfully, you wouldn’t need to do much talking.

“Can I..?”

All you could do was nod, your throat too tight to speak, and watch his fingers slip beneath the band of your underwear to stroke tentatively between your legs. You sighed softly, letting yourself sink into the bed, your hands finding a comfortable resting place on his shoulders.

John boldly dipped two fingers into you, and you tensed at how embarrassingly wet you sounded.

He moaned softly, turning his head and pressing his lips to your shoulder.

“God, love…”

“Sorry,” You buried your face in the crook of his neck, feeling oddly shy all of a sudden. “You’re just so pretty.”

“Don’t be sorry, why on earth would you be- C’mere.”

He didn’t waste any time. John’s long hair swept along his shoulders as he settled down between your legs. His stomach had barely touched the bed when he began to press slow, open-mouthed kisses to the inside of your thigh.

Heat pooled in your underwear instantly, and you had to resist the urge to push your fingers into his hair and pull his mouth to where you needed it.

John had the audacity to graze his mouth along your thigh, then look up at you with his teeth poised to sink into you, tugging his lips back in a grin.

“Any of those idiots you used to date get to see you like this?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

“No, they- Ah!”

He made good on his threat and sank his teeth into your inner thigh, still smiling.

“They liked to, er, stay up north,” you admitted, your face heating up.

John frowned. He pressed his nose into your skin, then stamped another kiss to your inner thigh, this time far closer to where you wanted him. You had to sink your teeth into your lip to avoid making any noise.

“Well,” he murmured. “I came down south for a reason.”

It was a dumb joke but it made you laugh. You felt yourself relax, all your nerves melting away with one quick, silly smile from John.

“You’re so daft,” you said fondly.

John practically purred as you ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes sliding shut with a soft sigh.

“Daft about youuu.”

His breath fanned across the inside of your legs, so close to where you wanted him, and you barely stopped your hips from rocking towards him. You shuddered as he nipped at the delicate skin of your inner thigh, balancing bites and kisses, pain and pleasure.

“John…”

Without warning, John sealed his mouth over the damp patch on your underwear, sweeping the flat of his tongue over the wet fabric, and an embarrassingly high-pitched keen tore from your throat before you could stop it.

“Can I-”

“Yesyesyes.”

You lifted your hips so that John could curl his clever fingers into your underwear, slide them down your legs and off your ankles. He barely spared them a glance before chucking them somewhere over his shoulder with the rest of your clothes, his attention fixed on you.

John pressed a single, sweet kiss against your swollen, aching clit, the gentlest, simplest thing but you nearly sobbed at how good it felt to be seen and touched by the boy you loved.

“Oh, fuck…”

Your hips arched instinctively into John’s touch, wanting more and not caring how needy you sounded.

He wrapped one hand around the underside of your thigh, pinning your other leg down with his elbow, smiling and smiling as your body reacted to him.

“God, love,” John smiled up at you between your legs, eyebrows arched with amusement. “If I’d known you’d sound like that, I would’ve asked you out a lot sooner.”

“You were worth the wait.”

Breathless, you briefly considered pushing your fingers back into his hair and pulling him down to fix the mess he’d made, but John raised himself up and out of reach.

“D’you want my fingers or my mouth?”

“Either. Both. I don’t care, John, please jus’ touch me.”

He didn’t need much more encouragement than that, but just when you thought you were finally going to get things started, John sat up on his elbows again.

“Tell me something,”

“John…”

You could have hit him, you really could have. Would anyone blame you? There he was, resting between your spread thighs, his big hands pinning you to the bed, his mouth just inches from you, and he wanted to chat.

“That first night,” he said. “When you gave me your bike. Did you know then that we’d end up here?”

You could feel his breath on your slick heat, he was so close, but he spoke so casually, you would think you were catching up over coffee.

“You had my attention.”

“When then?”

“Eh?”

“When did you know?”

Your patience was spread so thin, it was practically translucent. You sighed and sat up on your elbows.

John’s big grin told one story, the light in his eyes another. This was important to him. Before you went any further tonight, he wanted to know this about you.

You wondered how long he’d been wanting to ask. You wondered why he was asking you now. Most of all, you wondered if you even had an answer for him.

You searched yourself, rifling through the rolodex of your memory, and instead of finding one absolute, you came across a hundred moments where you’d fallen just a little bit in love with John.

“You kept askin’ to help in the kitchen.” You cleared your throat, your voice hoarse from moans caused by his touch, “You wan’ed to learn and you listened to me. You knew why Gladys called us 64 Oslo Square. You let me boss you around and tease you and you never show off about bein’ clever. There wasn’t one moment. You were just there one day and everything got be’er.”

John smiled and sweetly kissed the inside of your knee, pressing his face there for a moment before turning his head and resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh so he could look up at you.

“I’ll take that.”

“What about you?” You didn’t want to keep him talking, not when John’s tongue was inches from being buried inside you, but he’d sparked your curiosity. “When did you know?”

He looked at you like it was obvious.

“I said. That first night, when you gave me your bike.”

“Shu’ uuup.”

“It’s true!”

“I don’ believe you.”

“Not my problem, gorgeous,” John purred the words against your core, making you whimper and bunch the duvet up in your fists.

“John…”

“Sorry, sorry…”

John’s sharp grey eyes locked onto yours as he lowered his head between your thighs. You weren’t certain, but you thought you heard him murmur ‘thank you, love’, but then he dragged his tongue against you and you lost all sense of time and space.

“Oh, God, John…”

He shuffled up the bed, socked feet scrabbling against your sheets, wanting to get as close to you as he could as he licked and flicked at you with his tongue, moaning softly against you when you ground against him in response.

Whimpering softly under your breath, you threw back your head and tried to relax, but it was too much. John’s fingers wrapped around your ankle and gently placed your foot further across the bed, spreading your legs even wider so he could bury his face in you.

“Is this alright?”

His voice was muffled but you just about caught his question through your own haze.

“‘s perfect, John, please don’t stop.”

John groaned in response, shaking his head so that his nose bumped your clit while he enthusiastically ate you out, and whether it was intentional or not, it made your hips jump off the bed.

“Don’t worry, love, I won’t. Wanna make you cum like this.”

Pleasure licked down your spine at his words. John’s rough, low voice, the tight press of his fingertips into the soft flesh of your thighs, his warm tongue, the slight graze of his teeth, it was all-consuming, it was all you could think and see and hear, and you never, ever wanted it to end.

“Fuck,” You couldn’t stop yourself moaning, even if you wanted to. You squeezed your eyes shut, reaching out for his hand. “Fuck, John-”

John slipped his fingers through yours, groaning softly when you gripped him tightly. His eyes rolled closed, and he had to grind his hips against the bed to try and relieve some of the pressure.

His jaw was beginning to ache but he didn’t care, the taste of you on his tongue was enough to push him onward, and when you hooked one leg over his shoulder, your heel digging in between his shoulder blades to pull him closer, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

“God, I love you,” John moaned into you.

Your breath caught in your throat as your entire body seized, your grip on John’s fingers so painfully tight, you were probably hurting him, but you lost focus on reality before you could think to do anything about it.

He didn’t let up long after you stopped coming, dragging his tongue slowly over and over through your folds and up against your clit until you eventually had to tug at his hair, whispering for him to stop until John raised his head.

He beamed at you, lips shining, as he clambered over you, almost as breathless as you were.

While you savoured the waves of pleasure still thrumming through you, John carefully settled on top of you, warming your trembling body with the weight of his own. He sweetly touched the tip of his nose to yours and murmured under his breath, asking if you were alright.

Eyes still closed, you pulled John down into a deep kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue as your legs locked around his narrow waist.

That was all the answer he needed.

John whimpered into your mouth as you ground against him. Smiling, you realised you could feel a damp spot on the front of his underwear.

John gripped you tight, flushed and needy and at the end of his tether.

“Can I… Please…”

Still smiling, still dazed and practically humming with pleasure, you pulled him in for another deep kiss. You pressed your heels into the bottom of his spine, urging him forward, and unabashedly moaned into his mouth,

“Be a good boy and get on your back.”

Something glinted in John’s eyes as he pulled away. It wasn’t quite a light, it wasn’t a gleam, it was pure electricity.

He held out his hand. You took it, slipping your fingers round his so that he could pull you up. Your body still trembling, you carefully moved around each other, never once parting, even as John took your place on the bed and you slipped between his knees.

“Oh, sweet boy…”

You moved over him, planting your hands either side of his slim shoulders so that you could gaze down at him, your hair falling around your face and framing John’s open, awed expression.

“It’s that easy, is it?”

John gave you a shaky grin as you lowered yourself and drew your lips across where his pulse raced in his neck.

“You’ve no idea how easy I am for you, love.”

You bared your teeth against his skin. He knew just what you wanted to hear. He knew just how to please you. Had he been practising that too? Or had John always been destined to end up here, spread out on your bed, his pretty hair pooling around his head like a meadow, his grin wide and a look in his eyes that said ‘do whatever you want to me’.

“You act so sweet and innocent. You’re a needy li’le thing aren’t you, John?”

As you spoke, you reached for the bedside drawer.

John’s eyes followed your hand, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in anticipation.

You pulled out the harness, then the attachment, and carefully rose so that you could kneel. Cheeks burning under his steady, curious gaze, you stood and stepped into the harness, shimmying it up over your hips and tightening the straps with shaking fingers.

“I could listen to you whine all day…”

John’s face tensed into a scowl, his eyes still locked on your hands as you fixed the strap to the harness and reached for the drawer again.

“I don’t whine.”

“Oh, yes you do.” You grinned, upturning the bottle of lube and pouring some into the centre of your palm. “You’re always so noisy for me, honey. ‘specially when I touch you here…”

John’s back straightened like he’d been electrocuted as you wrapped a hand around him. He gasped, his eyes squeezing shut, his mouth falling open, and whispered your name like a prayer.

Beaming, you slipped your hands round to grip the undersides of John’s thighs, pulling his legs up so that his knees were by your sides. You dug your nails into his skin, not enough to hurt but it had its desired effect.

John groaned, his aching cock pressed tight against his stomach. He’d started to leak all over himself.

You kept your eyes on his, even though your heart was hammering in your chest and the way he was starting to roll his body into yours was almost dizzyingly hot.

“This is…” John huffed, shaking his head. “This is so mental.”

You laughed softly, gently, looking down at him with a quiet fondness.

“We can stop if you like? It’s never too late, y’know.”

“No, no! Don’t stop, it’s just- It’s mental.”

John laughed, shaking his head and making his hair fall around his shoulders so prettily, it was enough to drag your gaze away from his pink, parted lips. He was teasing you, his wicked smile told you so, but John’s voice was edged with trepidation.

“Good mental?” you asked nervously.

“Well, we’ll have to see, won’t we?” John’s smile turned a little more reassuring. “I want this, love. I want you.”

“Oh, I know…” The words dripped from your tongue like honeyed gold, easy and relaxed despite your racing heart. “You’ve almost made a mess of the bed and we’ve barely even star’ed.”

The creases bracketing John’s smile vanished. Wordlessly, he nodded up at you.

You smiled when you felt his fingers dip into your hair and immediately start to tangle themselves at the back of your head. It was something he often did when you were cuddled up on the sofa, watching telly, or when he slung an easy arm around your shoulder at work, not caring who saw how soppy he could be sometimes.

“Can I keep goin’, pretty boy?”

As you spoke, you began to work your hand up and down his length, so delicate and slow that John’s dark eyes appeared to gloss over. When his cock bumped against the strap, he hissed softly, half shy, half too turned on to care.

“Please…” John closed his eyes with a sigh. “Please don’t stop touching me like that. Please.”

You took in his flushed cheeks, his bright eyes, the lovely slope of his nose and the way he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, catching it between his teeth to stopper the moan sitting in his throat. He really was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

You leaned down and kissed his cheek, his jaw, your free hand coming up to cradle his face as you helped him relax.

“You’re so gorgeous, John. Just wanna make you feel so good.”

“I told you ages ago, love. You can do whatever you want with me. I’m yours. You own me.”

He mumbled the words against your skin, his lips, his breath, his slightly slurred speech all hot as he dragged his mouth along your shoulder.

“All mine. And I’m all yours, honey.”

John groaned when you pulled him into a messy kiss, your fingers pressing into his hollowed cheeks as you held his lips against yours.

You dipped your tongue into his mouth, taking what was rightfully yours, and all the while you stroked him, pulling moan after needy moan from his constricted throat.

Once you thought he’d had enough, you moved down John’s body, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to his heaving chest.

His rings were cool against your neck. His skin, in contrast, was shockingly warm against yours as you buried your face in his stomach for a moment before continuing your journey downwards.

He was tense at first, as were you, but it didn’t take long for John to relax, not when you were scissoring your fingers inside him with one hand and stroking him with the other.

Flat on his back, his long legs spread, he looked almost sinful as he begged for more and more, until you had three fingers inside him. Even when John raised his head from the pillows and caught you grinning like the Cheshire Cat, he couldn’t stop whimpering and rolling his hips against your hand.

You talked to him sweetly, encouraging him and pressing soft kisses around his bare hips, while your fingers curled inside him.

You were just starting to get tired and almost suggested switching positions, when you happened to drag your fingertips in just the right way and John yelped, his entire body tensing up.

You paused, making sure you hadn’t hurt him, but John immediately began to gabble, begging you not to stop, to please do that again. So you moved your fingers again, brushing against just the right spot, and John melted into the bed like candle wax.

“Oh, God. Oh, fuck…”

You smiled to yourself, self-satisfied and smug, and began to nip at the pale skin of his hips, watching John’s face contort in pleasure as you massaged the area with your fingertips.

“Mm, God, fuck me…” John’s mouth fell open, his long fingers gripping the mattress. “Fuck, I can’t- We need to stop, sweetheart, or you’re gonna make me cum like this.”

You paused with your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, looking up at him daringly, before pulling away with a noise that made John whimper pathetically. That didn’t sound like the worst idea right now. But you were here for a reason.

You took one of his knees, bringing it over your hip, and braced yourself on the bed.

“You ready, handsome? I wanna make you feel so good, love.”

John’s legs were wiry and slim, and as you ran your hand up and down his bare thigh, you could feel his muscles tensed in anticipation.

“We’ll go nice and slow, okay? We’ve got all the time in the world, baby boy.”

Colour rose in John’s cheeks at the nickname. Something coiled in the pit of his stomach, warm and familiar. He could do anything, he decided, if you kept talking to him like that.

You gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile, but after watching him moan and arch his back for you, the throbbing between your thighs was too much to ignore.

You took the strap in your free hand and pushed in slowly, watching John’s face for any minute change of expression. He’d always been a tough one to read, you didn’t want to miss anything and risk hurting him or make him freeze up.

You needn’t have worried. John’s usually neutral expression tightened, his eyebrows pushing together and his lips parting. He gave a little huff, his eyes squeezed shut, though it was hard to tell if it was out of surprise, discomfort, or pleasure.

“You doin’ okay, sweet boy?”

You squeezed his hip, being careful not to move around too much so as not to jog him.

“I’m good. I’m okay.”

“It doesn’t hurt? You’re nice and comfy?”

“I feel…” John gave his hips an experimental roll, choked, and threw his head back. “Ohhh fuuuck...”

Your hand rose to brush his lovely hair back from his face but you didn’t want to distract him, so you settled for squeezing his hip instead.

“You’re perfect, baby boy. Doing so well for me.”

He gave you a shaky smile, then seemed to take a moment to centre himself. You watched John pull in a long breath, then let it go again, measured and calm.

“That’s it, honey, that’s it.” You rubbed his thighs, moaning softly when John gave a pitiful whine in the back of his throat. “Just like that, pretty boy, you’re doin’ so well for me.”

John was panting, his fingertips pressing into your shoulders every time you moved in just the right way.

Gritting your teeth, you kept going, thighs trembling with the effort. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, the way his pretty face scrunched up in concentration, the way his tongue darted out to wet his parted lips, the way his stomach tensed and relaxed as he rocked more and more on your strap.

You were just about to ask if he needed a break when John’s mouth fell open.

"Ah, Christ."

"Good?"

"Yes- God, yes, good, very good-"

John hissed and bit his lip as he lifted his hips off the strap just a little, his fingers pressing into your sides, then sank back down again.

Your eyes were wide as you watched him repeat the motion again and again, slowly but surely, until John was bouncing on you. This was definitely one of your better ideas.

“Oh God, John, fuck.” Breathless, you kissed his hot cheek. “You look fuckin’ amazin’.”

Despite himself, John smiled. His cheeks were pink and his hair was starting to stick to his forehead. He looked like a dream.

“Is it as good as you imagined, sweetheart? You happy now?”

You matched his grin as you picked up speed. Your other hand slipped around his cock and began to stroke him in time with your thrusts.

“Oh, very happy, honey.”

John whimpered, his hips jerking up into your hand. He arched his back, one hand clinging to your waist for dear life while the other scrabbled at the bed sheets, clawing for grip and not finding a purchase. He swore under his breath, dragging himself up and down the strap, and all the while you watched him with a delighted smile.

“You’re such a good boy, John. Can’ believe how good you look takin’ me, baby boy, I’m absolutely soaked.”

He smiled feebly up at you, pleased with the praise, but then you must have hit some spot inside him because his face fell, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he froze.

“Oh, God,” he whispered.

John slowly circled his hips, fucking himself deep and slow and deliberate, moaning so obscenely, it actually made you blush.

You stopped stroking him, so in awe you simply forgot. Your hips stuttered, your focus slipping as you watched him groan and shake.

“God, John, look at you. How does it feel?”

He shook his head desperately, almost like it was too much to put into words, and to try and focus on verbalising how he was feeling would distract from the pleasure surging through his veins

“So good, sweetheart,” John managed to get out, his voice tight and hoarse. “You’re so good, it’s so good…”

You hummed, unimpressed, and slowed your thrusts. John gave a meek cry of protest but you didn’t cave. He could do better than that.

“How does it feel havin’ my strap inside you? Fuckin’ y’self for me like this?”

John hissed and bit his lip, circling his hips for any kind of friction, chasing the feeling.

“So fucking good. I can’t- It’s so much, sweetheart.”

You thumbed at his head, then twisted your hand, making John’s hips stutter.

“You look fuckin’ amazin’, Johnny. Look so good with my strap in that pretty little arse.”

His bright eyes met yours. John looked at you like he couldn’t believe you’d just said that. Then he laughed and moaned all at once, like he couldn’t believe how much he loved it.

“Fucking hell, love.”

Grinning, you picked up speed again, moving your hips deeper than before, aiming for that spot that made John see stars.

He tried to move with you until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He groaned and whimpered, letting out a sweet little ah! ah! ah! sounds that made you feel dizzy.

“Such a good boy for me,” you murmured, mostly to yourself, then dipped your head so that you could press a kiss to the centre of his narrow chest.

John groaned, his free hand coming up to tangle in your hair again.

“Keep talking like that, I’m not gonna last much longer.”

His words were staccato, cut short by little pants and breathy whines that grew steadily higher and higher as you snapped your hips against his.

“Good,” You kiss his throat, shining with a thin sheen of sweat, and grinned when John whimpered again. “I want you to cum for me, sweet boy. You’re not gonna last long at all, are you?”

“Fuck- No, not gonna last.”

“You never do, do you, love?”

“Wh-” John flushed, the colour spreading all the way down to his navel as he shook his head. “You’re just so good, sweetheart. Can’t help it. I- Oh.”

He stilled suddenly, then the hand at your waist squeezed hard, his fingertips sure to leave bruises.

“I think I’m gonna- Oh, God, this is- I didn’t think it would be so- I mean I knew it would be- Oh, God, I’m gonna cum, love, can I please?”

You laughed softly, always so enamoured by how chatty John got when he was close. You rubbed his thigh sweetly, smiling down at him with pride.

“That’s my good boy. Cum for me, John. You always look so pretty like this, honey. Wanna watch you cum all over yourself, sweet boy.”

“Fuck-”

John’s eyes screwed shut, his mouth hanging open as moan after obscene moan fell from him. He kept bouncing on you until, suddenly, he froze and his grip tightened on your waist.

“Oh, God, love-”

Breathless, you thrust your hips forward and stole a kiss just as John bucked his hips a final time, whining your name. He folded in the middle, and with two more strokes of your hand, he came, hard, all over his concave stomach. You gasped for air, your arms trembling, while John moaned so loud, you were sure your neighbours would hear him.

The hand that still clung to your waist pulled you closer until you collapsed on top of him, your bodies burning and heaving together. He was so sensitive, even the slightest movement seemed to make his whole body jolt, so you stayed as still as you could, whispering praise by his ear and stroking his hair until John finally came back down to earth.

When he raised his head, he seemed to see through you for a second, but then his glazed eyes cleared and he blinked at you dreamily. His pretty mouth stayed open as he panted, his warm breath brushing your cheeks.

“Y’okay?” you asked.

John nodded.

“I’m very okay,” he agreed. “Very okay. Forgot who I was for a second. C’mere.”

He pulled you into a kiss that was half sweet and grateful, and half provoking. His tongue slid over yours, then he caught your bottom lip between his teeth.

“So? Thoughts?”

You squeezed John’s hips, trying to ignore how slick and wet your thighs were. This was about him, about making your boyfriend feel good, you could have another turn soon.

“Few and far between at the moment, love, I’ll be honest,” John smiled, tired and sweaty but sated. “But that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

You beamed, but your loving reply was cut short when you tried to sit up and John tensed, both his hands flying to your waist to slow your movements.

Apologising with a soft kiss, you carefully untangled yourself then laid down beside John. He immediately gathered you up in his arms, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, his big hands splayed against your back.

“I’m supposed to be taking you out for dinner, aren’t I?” he mumbled into your hair.

You huffed, turning and burying your face in his clammy chest.

“Tomorrow. Right now, I don’t wanna move from this bed.”

“Thank God, me neither.” John pressed another kiss to your temple, smiling. “I’ll cook though. I think I owe you one after that.”

“You’re going to give me food poisoning to thank for me for making you cum harder than you ever ‘ave in all y’life?”

“I’ll have you know I make fantastic beans on toast.”

“Stop it.”

“I know.”

“You spoil me.”

“Well, you deserve it.”

You reached round and pressed your fingertips into his side, strategically poking at his ribs to make John jolt, his hands pinning you down harder against his chest to stop you doing it again while you both laughed softly.

But there was still something nagging at the back of your mind. Something you’d tucked away for another time. Words you weren’t sure if you should address, but you knew you’d be analysing and agonising and obsessing over them till you had your answer.

“I might be wrong…”

John huffed.

“Oh dear.”

You poked at his side again, beaming when it still made him jump. You could look at him like this all day, relaxed and comfortable, completely bare for you and only you. You wondered if anyone else in the world got to see that smile, that pointed, broad grin that meant John was completely at ease, or if it was only ever just for you.

“Did you say- Just now, I mean… I thought I heard you say that you loved me.”

“Ah.” John looked sheepish. “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that.”

“Well, you were doin’ a good job of distractin’ me. Why, did you not mean it? It’s okay if you didn’t, I don’t want you to feel like you have to-”

John slipped his fingers under your chin and lifted your head so that he could press his lips to yours. He kissed you slowly, carefully, gently, until you’d almost forgotten what you’d been about to say.

When he pulled away, he cradled your face in his hand, sweeping his thumb across your cheek, back and forth, back and forth, while his gaze traced the shape of your lips, your nose, your eyes.

“I meant it,” he said. “I just didn’t mean to say it then. I was hoping to tell you in a… More romantic way.”

You shrugged, grinning against his palm.

“Worked for me.”

“Well, you didn’t say anything back, so I thought…”

“Well, I wasn’t sure you’d actually said it, y’know, I didn’t wanna embarrass m’self.”

“Right, right.”

John gazed at you, his eyes steady and still. Then his mouth twitched, right in the very corner.

You rolled your eyes.

“Well, I can’t say it now!”

“Why not!”

“You’re looking at me! I feel on the spot!”

“Well,” John sighed and carefully unwrapped his arms from around you. “There are other ways of making you talk.”

“Oh!” You laughed as he clambered over you, his big hands slipping under your back so that you were laying more comfortably. “Wait, let me take this thing off.”

You moved to sit up but John stopped you with a kiss. His hands covered yours, resting together where you’d begun to unbuckle the strap.

“Leave it on,” he murmured against your lips. “Just for a bit? Please?”

“Ohhh,” You grinned as John moved back down your body and carefully parted your thighs. “Good boy.”

Master List

#john deacon x reader #queen fic #john deacon reader #john deacon smut #john deacon fic #john deacon x you #queen fanfiction

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