#he might as well get a poster of appreciation

[twilight-zoned-out]

Some things about Allan:

He’s the only one who reacts to the narrator

He’s the only doll (besides the Weird House) who isn’t swayed in some way by Ken’s takeover

He also declares himself as “Ken's buddy" (making canon his official box description) which makes his inability to be swayed more interesting

He has bendable legs (probably the only reason he tries to jump the fence instead of going around like everyone else)

He easily decked a half-dozen construction Kens and could probably singlehandedly win the Ken fight

He seems to know more about the real world than most Barbies

He knows what NSYNC is 

He knows about other Allan copies living in the real world (I’m trying to figure out if he made this up to convince the humans he can live in the real world, but even if he did, how does he know what NSYNC is???)

There are no other Allan models

[steddielations]

Steve acts on instinct.

There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.

There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.

They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.

“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.

“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”

Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”

It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”

“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”

Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.

“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.

He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.

It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.

“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.

“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”

Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.

Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.

“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.

“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.

The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.

He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.

“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”

He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”

“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.

“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”

Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.

“I think I’d definitely remember you.”

Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.

“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”

Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”

“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”

Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”

“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.

Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.

It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.

That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.

Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.

“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.

“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”

He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.

Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.

He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.

Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.

“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.

Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.

What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.

At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.

Oh.

He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—

Yeah, just. Oh.

Part 2

[erwinsvow]

you had lived in the house next to tannyhill your entire life. though it was smaller, much less grand and a little older, it was home.

your bedroom faced the opposite side of the street, looking out onto the other neighbors. you occasionally ran into sarah and wheezie on the block or during a stroll on your bike and your dad would sometimes be seen talking to ward in the backyard about the weather or the updates to the golf course at the country club.

but in all the years you had been living here, you had never caught the older cameron's attention—at least until the tree poked through your window during the most recent hurricane.

your bedroom—your most sacred space—was now a litter of broken glass and scratched up floors. it would be easy enough to replace, once your parents found someone reliable enough to do it, and the best solution offered to you was relocating temporarily to the guest bedroom. it faced the other side of the street, looking out over the cameron pool and, unbeknownst to you, rafe's bedroom.

at first you just move some of your things in, knowing your parents wanted you to stop running back to your old room until it was fixed. then more things come in, making yourself more comfortable, until it seems that this might as well be your new bedroom. it's easy enough—decorating walls with photos and posters, dragging in your bookshelf and appreciating the joint bathroom a little too much.

you get very comfortable—though you don't realize the curtains in this room are completely sheer. it faces windows of tannyhill that you've never seen another person in, so you assume they must be empty too.

that's when rafe sees you for the first time—changing in your bedroom through his window. you walk in with a white towel wrapped around your body, drying your hair while you pace around. he feels a little green, staring at pretty exposed skin and wet hair like it's the first time he's ever seen a half-naked girl.

you brush your hair and then get closer to the window, a foot perched on the windowsill while you rub lotion onto your legs, and then your arms. rafe's still staring, and though he's sure he looks like a creep if you glanced up and at him, he doesn't stop. finally you get to your neck, and just when he thinks you've finished, you loosen the towel and let it fall to the floor.

all the blood rushes out of his head—watching your hands massage in lotion to the soft skin of your stomach, your back, finally stopping at your tits before you're out of his eyeshot. when you get back in, you're holding clothes in your hand, slipping into a big t-shirt and a pair of panties. he can even make out their blue color from how hard he's staring.

it's a little late—the sun's gone down but your room is still illuminated with light. he sees you crawl into your bed, getting under the covers and picking up a book from the nightstand. like an idiot, he keep staring until you turn your lamp off and go to bed, and like an idiot, he's still hard.

the next morning—after an entire evening spent trying to resist staring at your sleeping form—he goes downstairs to ask someone about you.

"who's the new neighbor?" rafe tries to ask it but it comes out more like a demand—wheezie looks up at him confused and sarah ignores him.

"huh?" his younger sister questions back, looking up from her breakfast. "what new neighbor?"

"on the pool side. saw a new girl. when did they move in?"

"what are you talking about, rafe?" sarah says. "she's always lived there. how are you this ignorant?"

"well, i've never fuckin' seen her before-" he thinks he's starting to get a little angry—maybe more at himself. how is it that he's never seen you before? how is it that you're dumb enough to leave a window uncovered enough for him to stare at you all night, naked, no less?

"dad said the neighbor's tree fell into a window. that's why he's getting the one by their room cut down, they said it was really bad-"

"that's so horrible. the tree was there first-"

rafe steps away, back up to his bedroom and his view of you. you're not there now, he saw you leave the room earlier. he can't help it—he wonders where you went.

that night, the same thing happens. it's terrible—he even turns the light off in his bedroom so you don't get alarmed. you come in around seven, talking on the phone with someone, juggling ice cream and shopping bags. you hang up the phone a little later, putting on something on your television and eating the ice cream from your bed.

he should've stopped looking the second you lick melting ice cream from your fingers, but he doesn't. he watches you pick up your towel and walk away, coming back wrapped in it just like yesterday. same as then, you put on lotion, taking extra time to blowdry your hair. you don't read tonight—probably too tired, he guesses—and go straight to bed. after he's sure you're asleep, he flicks his light back on.

it goes on for longer than he realizes, longer than he expects. it's fun watching your little routine, how oblivious you are to the fact that he's watching it. and you seem nice—sweet, even, with the way you smile brightly whenever your parents come into your room, the way you swing your feet when you're on the phone.

he does a little more digging—true to what his idiot sisters said, you've lived in this house forever. you've been a few hundred feet away this entire time.

like every night—he flicks off his bedroom light at eight. you bounce in, doing everything you always do, exactly the way you always do it. something seems different though—you don't seem tired, crawling into your yellow sheets a little too early.

rafe stands up so fast when he realizes what you're doing, he almost knocks his chair flat to the ground. one hand snaking into your panties—pink tonight—and the other under your t-shirt, you rock against your hands. your room is only lit up with the light of a faint lamp, but it's enough for him to see everything—the way your face contorts into pleasure, the moan you try to muffle with the back of your hand, when you finally cave and take off your shirt.

he keeps staring, about as hard as he's ever been, watches you give up on your hand and fold a pillow in half instead, mounting it and giving him the show he didn't realize he'd been waiting for. and fuck, it's perfect, exactly how he thought you'd be.

rafe doesn't realize he's doing it, palming himself before giving in and taking out his dick, angry and red already, watching you. his own strokes match your pace against the pillow, and it doesn't take long at all—you cum with your head pressed against your sheets and he cums into his hand, so close to the window his breath fogs up the glass.

he gives in twice more—repeating the events of that night when you touch yourself again. the other times he's content just to watch you, not sure when that become such a pleasure in and of itself.

one night you come home with some shopping bags—nothing new. you strip down and try on a pretty white dress with orange flowers, tight where it needs to be yet nothing you couldn't wear around family. you twirl around your room, and then call someone on the phone.

he doesn't know how the thought gets in—maybe because your window was a little cracked and his was open all the way, sound traveling through the window and the words he hears leads to the idea of you, going on a date with someone else, in that dress, plants itself in his mind.

rafe paces around his room, not even caring if you see. you can't go on a date, not with anyone but himself, and the very idea that you'd do something like that makes him angry. it's irrational, though he hardly cares, all he can think about is how to make sure it doesn't happen.

the next night—saturday—you get dolled up, though rafe's not there to watch this time. you put on makeup and even do your hair all pretty, slipping into the dress and tidying your room before making your way downstairs. your date said he'd swing by around seven to get you—and though he didn't seem the type, he was already ten minutes late.

you wait on your front porch for another ten, before deciding to send a text. it bounces back. you call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. with the bitter realization that you've been stood up almost twenty minutes later, you're about to go back inside with watery eyes, when you hear the sound of footsteps in the distance.

"hi, is that you?" you call out uncertainly into the night. your porch lights are dim, only giving you a little glimpse of a man walking towards your home from the street. but he's not coming from your driveway—he's coming from the side, from the cameron house.

when he gets closer, you see that it's rafe cameron—the boy you've been living next to for years but haven't ever spoken to. even if you didn't know your neighbors and his sisters, you'd still remember him—you only nursed a crush on him for years.

"rafe?"

"hey, kid. what're you doin' out here all alone?"

"i.." you stop yourself short—you don't want to tell him you've been waiting for your date, it feels wrong. "i was just waiting for someone. um, what're you-" rafe doesn't let you finish.

"yeah, he's not comin'. not tonight, not ever."

"what?" nervous, frightened, your knees start to shake, feeling like you need to get far away right now.

"i said he's not coming. neither is anyone else. not goin' on any dates. get inside and get upstairs."

"rafe?" you question again, big eyes staring at your neighbor, fearful and confused.

"are you gonna make me repeat myself?" he asks, and almost automatically, you shake your head, complying, but still don't move. "go to your room."

you dart inside. rafe can hear your feet sprinting up the stairs. he turns off your porch light and walks inside your house, up the stairs, until he's face to face with your door with his hand on the knob. he twists, realizing you left it unlocked.

[coqhee]

MOVE-IN 𓂃 엔하이픈 형

✷ moving in with your bf

enhypen hyung line ︲ gn reader ︲fluff fluff fluff︲pet names, skinship, grammar errors, lovey dovey couple stuff︲415 / more

─── ♡

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

“any more boxes you need me to carry darling?” heeseung asked smiling warmly at you, whilst he placed another brown cardboard box filled with your stuff into the room. “mm, I think that might be the last one,” you reply, taking a quick look around to double-check. heeseung pulls you in by the waist, forcing you to look up at him. “everything okay?” you ask confusedly at the sudden affection. “just excited to start a new chapter with you,” he murmurs placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

rest of the members under the cut!

─── ♡

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆

“can’t believe you’re finally moving in with me love,” jay commented watching you unpack your boxes into your new room. “so glad i am though,” you smiled walking over to jay after putting up the last of your collectibles on your shelf. jay pulled you onto his lap just holding you close, not wanting to let you go. sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the walls adorned with your favorite posters and photos. “love you,” jay barely whispered connecting his lips with yours for a short kiss commemorating the new chapter in your relationship.

─── ♡

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍

“okay wait watch this,” you presented your new fairy lights proudly to jake. he watched as they glimmered around the room illuminating the once dark and empty space. “woah looks amazing, the place looks much more…you.” he smiled holding you from behind awing at the new atmosphere encasing the two of you. “really?” you grinned from the comment. “truly, looks stunning,” he said, his voice softening, “but not more than you, angel.” his words wrapped around you like the warm glow of the lights, making your cheeks heat up as you leaned back into his embrace, feeling grateful for this beautiful moment together in your new home.

─── ♡

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

“are you sure you really want all these boxes?” sunghoon asked unsure of the almost comedic amount of boxes for the adequate sized room you had. he peeked at the various boxes finding not one, not two, but three boxes dedicated to stuffed animals. “hoon, they’re all very necessary,” you pouted. “sir bubbles is very important,” you explained holding up the pet penguin plush he had won for you earlier that month. he sighed seeing how silly the situation was, “well, let’s get to unpacking them honey,” he smiled, walking over to you to place a kiss on your nose before getting to work.

─── ♡

a/n: another filler fic before eta to your heart, hooray!!! all likes, comments, reblogs much appreciated <3

🏷️ (send an ask or reply to this post): @wonsdoll

@ coqhee 2024. all rights reserved

[reader-from-another-dimension]

AHHHHHH TAKE IT SecondBee by @yuukirita! :P Part 1, 2 here :DD

Cliffjumper was having the worst day ever, not only did he accidentally tripped and fall face-down at an extremely important meeting today, as a result, he got saddled with a scout mission by Elita - she probably felt bad about the incident and gave him an easy way out, and normally, he’d feel better away from the suffocating walls of Iacon, today just wasn’t his day.

Because the moment he stepped foot into the designated mine in his file folder, the ground collapsed. So, here he is, free falling down a seemingly never ending drop. Sure, he probably should freak out more and try to find a way to slow down.

But come on, one doesn’t just earn the name Cliffjumper from nothing.

So, case in point, today fragging sucks.

Crossing his arms, Cliffjumper frowned as he heard the faint sound of metal hitting solid ground. Seems like the ride is over, boo hoo.

Activating the duo blasters at the back of his foot and shoulder, Cliffjumper felt his body slowing down, taking the whistling wind away as it went. A shame, it was one of his favorite thing about free falling, his friends would sometimes joke about how he should’ve been created with an aerial frame.

No, focus, Cliffjumper, what was he doing again? Oh, right, scouting. His feet landed on the ground with a small clank, distantly, he wondered about the nature of this ‘mission’ of his.

Despite what other mechs whisper about (and despite Optimus’s best efforts to keep this particular information from him), Cliffjumper isn’t dumb, he was just a bit hot-headed and reckless, that doesn’t mean he can’t stop and think. Elita doesn’t quite know this just yet, and he intends to keep it that way, more for his advantage.

Nevertheless, this mine was not a usual place for a scouting mission, Elita had listed the description as ‘possible stray material locating’, but this specific mine was different, since it wasn’t evacuated during the incident with Sentinel (Cliffjumper would spit on that name if it ever comes to life), mechs had been able to extract all energons and precious materials after the battle, there was little reasons to send a scout here.

Still, Elita doesn’t do things without reason, so Cliffjumper didn’t question her. He kind of regrets that decision now.

Primus, when Elita finds out the mines had collapsed, she’d go straight to Optimus, and after Cliff got out, he’d do that thing where he lowers those antennas of his that almost makes Cliffjumper wanna swear he’d stay put. Then Elita’d make him swear it.

Ugh, he’s so grounded.

Welp, might as well enjoy his stay while he can. Looking around, Cliffjumper was hit with the sudden realization that, damn, he’s down pretty deep, actually. There was little to no natural light down here, only the dim sizzles of half-powered lamps scattered around the abandoned halls lit up the way.

Cliffjumper frowns, tapping on his comms, only for it to come back nulled. No signal.

Oh, he’s down deep deep.

Groaning, Cliffjumper kicks a pebble out of frustration, watching the thing bounces and hits the gray walls, he huffs. Primus, this place fragging sucks, actually, he wants to be picked up immediately. It was cold, empty and dead here, he hates it, those words don't belong in Cliffjumper’s vocabulary.

Even if an early rescue means he’d have to face Optimus sooner. Ugh, he doesn’t look forward to it at all, say goodbye to freedom for the next lightyear!

Cliffjumper slowly makes his way down the dim hall, grumbling to himself. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate Optimus’ concerns, it’s just - it gets exhausting at times, he doesn’t want a repeat of that last time Cliff accidentally got shot in a scout mission. He was fine afterwards! Even Elita said so, although, she was trembling a bit while she did.

He loves the mech duo, but come on.

Cliffjumper sighs, tracing the worn-down walls of the place, sharpening his fingers when he went past a series of Sentinel posters. Honestly, frag that guy.

The false Prime not only ruined everyone’s life, he also separated the iconic team that freed Iacon from its chains. Maybe if the guy had never existed, then Iacon would’ve been fine, then Optimus and Elita wouldn’t have lost two friends that left them with visible scars that he can always see clinging to their clean frames. Maybe, then, Cliffjumper wouldn’t have lost his broth-

Creaaaaak-

“Yip!”

Letting out a very manly and brave sound, Cliffjumper unloads his blaster out of instinct, Elita’s warning of the potential of dangerous mechs going into hiding in deep mining levels. Crouching slightly, Cliffjumper tries his best to not make any sound moving forward.

Creaaak-

He gulps, approaching the source of the noise, which is just around a corner. A very dim, shadowy corner.

No, he’s not scared, what are you talking about?

Cliffjumper steps closer and closer to the creaking sounds, inhaling, he readies his weapons. One more step, and he rounds the corner, raising his blaster as he did.

Now, across the cycles, Optimus has told him many, many stories about his brother. B-127, he stopped after…Well, he stopped after running out of new things to say, but Cliffjumper had always paid his utmost attention when the mech did. He had hung onto every word, rolling them around in his helm whilst recharging, committing them into his files, memories of what could’ve been.

What should’ve been.

Cliffjumper stopped dead at his feet, his blaster, raised mid-air, slowly tilting down.

He gapes. “Bee?”

[haikyu-mp4]

Congrats on the milestone I love your work😸.

Applying with Sakusa, I am organized and a problem solver

thank you very very much, love!! I'm happy to hire you<3

Human error

Sakusa is a regular and finally asks you out, for the now hiring! event

word count; 1087 – f!reader

Every time you got to see Sakusa, the mysteriously handsome volleyball player was accompanied by one or more of his fellow jackals. Their training facilities just so happened to be around the corner from the cafe where you worked and you had recognised him from the posters one of the first times he stopped by.

Sakusa wasn’t sure he’d ever have a chance with you, but he told himself it was even less likely if his teammates were to get involved. No doubt, they would try to play Cupid and ruin his already slim chances as if the prospect of them knowing he had somewhat of a crush wasn’t already embarrassing enough. So he put some effort into little ‘schemes’ that would allow him to talk to you without them.

One time, he left his MSBY jacket on the counter after he picked up his coffee. As he and Hinata left the shop, he put on what he felt was quite the acting performance, telling Hinata “I left my jacket, you go ahead,” before turning around to do so.

He had walked right up to the counter and you perked up when you spotted him, pulling the jacket up from behind the bar in a neat bag. You always wore a mask at work, which he greatly appreciated, but you pulled it down for a second to smile at him after he took the bag from you with a brief ‘thank you’. “You’re lucky I know you jackals and your uniforms by now,” you teased. “Someone tried to tell me it was theirs after they saw you left it.”

“Lucky me,” he agreed, completely abandoning the whole script. Instead, he just bowed and walked away.

Let’s just say, most of his schemes didn’t work out. Human error, one might call it.

Sakusa wouldn’t say he gave up, but he took some time trying to come up with a new plan to approach you. The next time he saw you, it was with the full squad of Bokuto, Hinata and Atsumu alongside him. They were talking loudly, not even lowering their volume when they got inside, which made Sakusa look away from them in embarrassment.

But then you laughed. And it annoyed him so much because he loved that laugh, but he never got close to being the reason for it. There’s one guy in line in front of the four volleyball players, and Sakusa was trying to tune in to your conversation. By now, one or two of his friends had caught on to where his attention lay.

“Would you let me take you out sometime?”

What did that guy just ask you?

Sakusa loudly cleared his throat and didn’t even realise he was moving until he stood in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as he turned his attention to the apparent competition. “Are you done ordering? There’s a line back here.”

You glanced at Sakusa and huffed out another short laugh, then looked back at the guy who had asked you out. “Sorry, I’m not interested. Remind me, did you want whipped cream on that?”

After a deep breath and watching the rejected guy step away to wait for his coffee, Sakusa was happy to find your attention back on him but not as happy about the playful glint of your eyes, even though it suited you painfully well. “Hello there, Sakusa. The usual?”

After confirming with a shy nod, Sakusa looked over his shoulder hesitantly. Atsumu was covering his mouth with his hand to contain his commentary, Hinata gave him a thumbs up, and Bokuto looked happily at the menu boards hanging above them to decide what he wanted to try today.

Sakusa could not believe his luck. Not only did he have to stay late at practice, meaning he couldn’t stop by your cafe before you closed as he planned, but his car also decided to give up on him and stay in the parking lot. He called the repair guy, who said he could be there in the morning, and Sakusa begrudgingly agreed before hanging up. Taking public transport home was not an option if he could avoid it.

Might as well start walking. He stared at his feet while walking to make sure he didn’t step on anything gross, but the slam of a door in front of him made his gaze sharply turn upwards. His feet stopped moving and he stared as you locked up the door.

Is this... destiny- no. Sakusa didn’t want to entertain such childish ideas, but at least it was an opportunity. He hesitated. Should he finally talk to you? None of the other volleyball players were there to snicker or make teasing comments and no other customers could rudely ask you out right in front of him.

You were closing up the shop and it had been a long day. Working at the cafe was amazing, but even you were susceptible to bad days. It didn’t help either that Sakusa hadn’t stopped by, so you did your hair all nice for nothing.

Speaking of the devil, you heard someone clear their throat behind you, making you startle and clutch your key like a weapon. When you saw those brown eyes, you calmed down slightly before tensing up again.

Your mind went back to earlier that day when Bokuto, Atsumu and Hinata had come into the cafe and the trio leaned their elbows on the counter.

“Between us girls, what’s your type?” Atsumu had asked, followed by Hinata adding,

“We’re asking for a friend!”

“Who might be interested,” Atsumu continued after realising that Bokuto had gotten distracted and forgot his line.

“Someone might call him the silent dark type, do you like that?” Hinata added like Atsumu had told him earlier.

“A friend?” you asked, pulling up the top of your mask a little to hopefully hide your cheeks more. They looked at each other and smirked, not giving you a proper answer.

“Could I get a raspberry refresher?” Bokuto asked with his sweet smile, and you clicked your pen more times than necessary before finally getting back into what you were doing.

Now, you looked at Sakusa and the blush seemed to be back. Your mask was hanging off one of your ears and you thought it might be too obvious if you put it back on now to hide it.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you said.

Sakusa seemed to consider his words. “I was going to get something to eat. Would you join me?”

“Gladly.”

masterlist

[manicpixiefelix]

baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

1/2: i'm gonna talk you through it [SMUT]

Summary: You're the daughter of one of Henrys, and known to be a snobby, entitled Princess of a woman; neither Venetia nor Felix seems to like you. Farleigh, however, claims that you and he have an ongoing arrangement. Felix says that arrangement is that you and Farleigh bitch together, then fuck like wild animals every time you hang out. Turns out you're even bitchier in person, and after a cruel joke played on Oliver by you and Farleigh at the Henrys dinner, he decides to take a bit of power back. Not that it goes as intended... nor that it goes completely wrong.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (F receiving), dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, demeaning talk, bondage & restraints, explicit discussions around safewords (it does happen a little bit into the action but before anything major), pet name used for the reader "princess"

A/N: 4730 words. okay turns out i can write pwp. i cut out like 1.5k of background and you get the gist of it in the summary. there will be a part 2 thats heavy on the smut, but this trio takes a while to set anything up because they can't stop arguing. hints of farleigh/oliver. this was a lot of fun but again i can't stress how long its been since ive written full, proper smut, so id really appreciate feedback. <3 unedited, i love you.

{ masterpost : 1/2 }

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Fucking Farleigh Start. Oliver feels the fury as it burns and bubbles inside of him, stalking quietly through the halls of Saltburn. There, at the end of the hall, Farleigh's bedroom door, quiet and unassuming, and right next to it, Oliver's target; your door. Farleigh isn't the only one in the house who can wrap people around his little finger; he isn't the only one in the house who can get the Princess to kneel.

Trying the handle, he finds it unlocked, and eases the old, wooden door open.

"Farleigh was right," upon hearing your voice, bright, amused, and very much awake in the dark, Oliver jumps, "you're an A-plus lurker, I didn't even hear you come in."

"Was a nasty thing you did to me tonight," Oliver tries to regain some of his composure, some of the ire he'd built up on the way here.

"So you've snuck into my room, I assume you assumed I was asleep, to- what, wake me up and berate me?" There's something smug and biting in your voice, something that fuels the fury coiling deep in his gut, "that doesn't sound like enough for someone like you, tricksie, little, pauper boy." When you start to move from where you've been sitting up in bed, crawling to the end to sit on your knees as the moonlight streaks through your window and finally paints you in sharp relief, he sees you're already nude.

But even your stunning body in the moonlight cannot compare to the look on your face, the sharp, hungry, mean amusement he's never seen a person wear so well.

"Go on then, shout," your eyes shine dangerously in the moonlight; "don't you want Farleigh to hear?" They might have been right. You might be the devil. Your smile gets wider, and Oliver can only watch, rather transfixed, as you start rolling your hips with purpose, "or do you want him to hear something else?" He hears, quietly at first, a soft tap, getting louder as you keep insistently thrusting against the air, against the mattress, the sound of the bedframe hitting the wall behind it, the wall that you shared with Farleigh on the other side.

Then, all at once, you stopped. A loud, mean laugh is pulled from you as you pitch yourself back on the bed, kicking your legs out in front of you to hang off the edge, completely relaxed, completely exposed. You give a loud, amused sigh, looking up at the canopy of the four poster bed.

"God, you're such a little bitch, Oliver, Farleigh was so right," you snorted, "I was the one who actually saw you eating Venetia like your life depended on it, on the lawn of all places," you shook your head, "I don't know what you told Felix to get out of that one but I know what I saw," clicking your tongue, you raised your leg, pointing a foot at him, not even bothering to look at him, "now you won't even touch me in my own bedroom when I'm practically begging for it. I'm choosing to be offended about that; you've offended me, Oliver."

Slowly, your leg lowers, and you kick your heels idly against the end of the bed in the silence.

"Where do you get all your attitude from?" Oliver finally speaks, tone turning scornful as he approached you.

"The money," you fire back with ease, "which is why you always seem to have none." Then, in the furious silence that followed, you grinned sharply at the roof, still not bothering to look at him, "try harder."

When he touches your knee, his fingers gentle against your skin, you kick him hard in the thigh with your other foot -

"The fuck? Did you just kick me?"

"Yeah, and?" He can almost hear you rolling your eyes, "what did you think it was, the wind? Ghost of Grandma Catton?"

"Do you fuckin' want me or not?" He's still standing within kicking range, he learns too late. All the while you've never even looked at him, always looking at the ceiling, hands comfortably, casually behind your head. There's a smug grin on your lips now, something teasing and once more mean.

"Do you want me?" You respond, legs gliding open, an open invitation to your slick, moon-drenched cunt, "I thought you wanted to use me to get back at Farleigh," you said mockingly, finally looking up and meeting his deep, furious gaze. Propped up on your elbows, you give a grin that's all teeth, "wanted to show us who has the real power, that you can get us back for the stunt we pulled after dinner," you sat up further, intense, hungry amusement in your eyes that drew Oliver in to you, leaning in, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as you were almost nose to nose. Your voice lowers, gaze on his lips as your voice turns to almost a moan, "wanted to show Farleigh that you could take anything he thought was his; even me," and you start fake moaning, softly at first, but getting exponentially louder as you leaned back again, against the bed, arching and writhing from nothing, putting on a show that ended with you shouting - "Oliver's a fucking bitch!" At the top of your lungs, and cackling with glee.

Rage exploded within Oliver, and for a moment, overcome with a strange sense of betrayal at your demonstration, he smacks at your inner thigh with all the might he can muster. He can tell it stings, your laughter stops for just a moment, leg flinching up for just a second, but then you're laughing harder if possible.

"Your first mistake - of many - was letting her talk at all," Farleigh's voice from the door is frankly annoyed. You, however, gasp with delight, sitting directly up and looking at Farleigh with absolute glee.

"That's not his fault, I wasn't going to tell him," you pointed out, before looking down at your thighs, and Oliver's hands still on them, and the part of you that must have still stung from the slap, "why is your grip so soft?" You looked up at him with a derisive expression, and immediately Oliver's grip on you goes tight, nails digging into your skin; you're fucking laughing at him again, still, "awe, you're getting there -"

"Could you stop that already?" Oliver leans in, scowling at you. Eyebrows raising in mock surprise, you grinned with devilish intent.

"Stop what?"

"All that fuckin' talking you're doing."

"I don't know, can I -?" But then out of seemingly nowhere, Farleigh sits himself down at the end of the bed next to you, flush against your side. He's still in his crisp, white shirt, and black slacks, looking so put together next to your brash nudity. When his hand comes up to your jaw, barely two fingers beneath your chin to guide you, to have you looking him in the eyes, you have to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. Both he and Oliver can see how badly you want to laugh, to make any kind of sound, but you hold yourself back.

"Okay, your fucking highness," Farleigh's voice is low and dangerous, full of warning, and Oliver sees you take a sharp breath in, gaze fixed on Farleigh's, "you don't get shit from either of us if you can't keep your dirty mouth closed." Though you nod adamantly, you puff out your cheeks, amusement in your eyes as you're clearly desperate to say something; "what?" Farleigh frowns.

"I have really bad news for you about what I have to do to suck dick," you point out, trying to keep your composure. It's not working, giggles are escaping you at a rapid rate.

"You are testing nerves I didn't even know I had," Oliver admits, desperately trying to sink his nails into you as hard as he could. If he could draw blood, perhaps that would be enough penance for having to endure your infuriating company.

However, it's Farleigh who speaks, lip curling with frustration as he smacks Oliver's hand away from the thigh closest to him. With a solid grip on that thigh, he pulls you leg close to him, forcing your legs wider, exposing you further.

"Then do something about it," he practically orders, and something about the tone sparks a kind of indignation in his chest, "you need me to talk you through it?" He snaps. This, however, quickly turns smug and mean as Farleigh leans in, nose to nose with Oliver and his building frustration with them both; "you know how to eat pussy, right?"

"You should both be very careful what you wish for," Oliver's eyes flash with a dangerous confidence as he sank down on his knees between your legs. You, thrilled and delighted by how the situation was no unfolding, lay yourself back on the bed with contented laughter, hands coming to rest confidently behind your head once more.

Farleigh watches Oliver with intense scrutiny, and for reasons he's not quite sure of, Oliver meets his gaze, refuses to break eye contact. His hand moves first, no longer holding your left thigh, he digs his elbow into your soft inner thigh, bracing his arm against you, forcing your leg further open and keeping it that way, letting him comfortably rest his hand with his thumb on your clit.

"Smart boy," you hum appreciatively, shifting your hips back and forth a little as his thumb is rubbing circles against your clit, "knows where the start button is." He takes his thumb off of you, much to your confusion. His gaze is still locked with Farleigh's. "Fucking hell, are you tired already -?" You sat up on your elbows, scowling at him, but Oliver looks sharply to you.

"Weren't you listening to Farleigh, princess?" Oliver asks, and there's something so deliciously satisfying about the look of flustered surprise on your face in this moment. Beside you, Farleigh huffs a laugh to himself and stands, pulling off his tie. Oliver's full attention, however, is still trained on your. Slowly, as he speaks, he again begins to rub circles against your clit, teasing, never enough proper pressure to be satisfying.

"I -" you started, but he immediately stopped again; out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver sees Farleigh's approving nod. Something about this all has his blood rushing in his fucking ears. You press your lips together, giving him a now expectant look, as if here, I've done what you've asked.

You're so wet, so wanting, ready and waiting, right thigh inching closer, leg curling around him, heel pressing insistently into his back. God you look so fucking good, he wants nothing more than to eat you like a man starving, tasting every inch of you -

"Give me your belt," Farleigh interrupts, and Oliver pauses, mouth literally an inch from your cunt, looking up at Farleigh like he can't quite believe him right now.

"Farleigh!" You exclaim with utter frustration, right leg lashing out to kick him, but he grabs your ankle and holds it tightly. With his free hand he makes an expectant, grabby hand at Oliver.

"Belt, now please." He practically orders.

"Use your own belt, Farleigh," Oliver nods to the belt Farleigh had just tossed to the side of the room, and Farleigh gives him a thin, unamused smile.

"Mine's nicer, and I don't want your cum on it," he explained with a mean, humourless smile. Oliver sat back for a long, furious moment, undoing his belt. The minute his hands were off of you, you tried to whine, but Farleigh, now just in his boxers, sat further up the bed beside you.

"This is overkill, I'll be good," you pouted, twisting to lay your head on his thigh, looking up at him with as pleading eyes as you could manage.

"You're not even being good right now," he pointed out; "both your thighs are over Oliver's fucking shoulders, and you haven't gone thirty seconds without saying something," but clearly you're pleased and flustered at being called out. Farleigh says your name more insistently, and you try and play innocent before he practically orders, "get your fucking legs off of him!" Like he can't quite believe you're still trying these tricks, even though you both seem comfortable in this dynamic.

"Oliver~" Farleigh then practically sings like a warning, gaze turning much colder as it falls back on Oliver himself, "where are we with that belt?"

"What's it for anyways?" Oliver finally pulls his belt free, awkwardly half throwing it to Farleigh, who does actually thank him, before his attention is back on you, bare and warm and wet and - "princess," he says suddenly before Farleigh can even answer his initial question, looking up, and you make a noise of acknowledgement, "you want me to touch you like I mean it, then keep your legs spread like you actually fucking want it," voice going low and sharp, immediately you widen your legs as best you can.

"Oh, he's good," Farleigh says, surprisingly appreciatively, watching as Oliver makes a meal of you.

Finally, finally, Oliver's mouth is on you, tongue gliding playfully along your slit, his nose continually bumping his thumb as it continues to work your clit, firmer this time. You hips wriggle and roll with him, desperate for more, growing frustrated with his teasing lightness.

"The belt can be for several things," Farleigh began, matter-of-factly as he began to loop the belt through itself, focusing on his task at hand, "if she insists on closing her legs, I'm not above using both belts to make sure she keeps them open - this bedframe's especially good for that -" a hot spike of desire passes through Oliver all at once, picturing you bound and open and begging -

"Oh, don't joke about that Farleigh, come on, you know I love that -" you actually whimpered, but Oliver, still keeping in mind the earlier warning, once more stops entirely. You gasp, as if betrayed, before remembering for yourself, actually whining, "you guys fucking suck," you whimper petulantly. For a moment, Oliver wonders if he really aught to be here, if this strange, psychosexual encounter was really worth it.

"You're fucking loving this," Farleigh countered without a moment of hesitation, saying it with such confidence that it almost surprised Oliver, "you just hate that you can't shut the fuck up for any amount of time, and that Oliver isn't actually as much of a little bitch as you thought," clearing his throat, Farleigh cast an evaluative look, before trying to shrug it off nonchalantly, "as either of us thought, I guess."

A moment of quiet stillness passes, and Oliver looks to you, face scrunched up with embarrassment, as all of Farleigh's words apparently rang true.

"Are you hourly, Oliver?" Farleigh then scowls, much to Oliver's confusion. Farleigh looks at him like he's a downright idiot, "the princess is actually being quiet, which means..." he trailed off pointedly. Oliver sat back on his heels, frowning at Farleigh for a long moment, his hands coming to rest on your knees. You, yet again growing incredibly unsatisfied, groaned into your hands.

"Not if you're gonna talk to me like that," Oliver takes a deep breath, sitting tall, gaze unflinching as he meets Farleigh's sneering gaze.

"Then fuck off, Little Orphan Ollie, we don't need you," he spits, "you should really feel lucky that you even got this far -"

"You're all talk, Farleigh," Oliver, with a newfound confidence, and his hands on you, rubbing small, gentle circles against your inner thighs with his thumbs. Farleigh's eyes narrow, but Oliver's smile turns knowing, "I know you can throw her around, and tie her up, and give her orders, clearly," he tips his head ever so slightly to the side, gaze slipping to you, to where you've still got your face covered by your hands, "but we both know no-one can speak for her, but her."

The faint, frustrated whimpering that had been escaping you this entire time goes dead silent. Oliver feels the way you go very still. Farleigh, realising what Oliver meant, also turned to look at you properly.

"'s your bedroom, princess," Oliver leans in, presses a kiss to your inner thigh, murmuring softly against your skin, "what do you think?"

"I think you're edging each other with psychosexual, power-play, bullshit-banter that's doing fucking nothing for me," you snap behind your hands, "and I'm gonna start kicking people again very soon," you warned. Farleigh rolled his eyes.

"Sit up," he sighed.

"No."

"Make a choice," Oliver told you, tone firmer this time.

"Also no." Your voice was sounding particularly petulant, and you even brought your knees together, closing yourself off in front of Oliver. After a long, vaguely irate silence, Farleigh takes a deep breath.

"Is something wrong? Are we at a yellow light? Red light?" He asks, tone far gentler, he leans over, fingers gentle against your hairline by your fingertips.

"Light... colours?" Oliver asks with genuine confusion. Farleigh is far less patient when he turns on Oliver, like he's frustrated to even be explaining this.

"Like a traffic light; instead of a safety word like pineapple, we have green - go, yellow - slow down, red - stop," said like he wanted to include duh, obviously on the end, but refrained, turning back to you.

"And... they're for her?" Intrigued and surprisingly endeared by the concept, Oliver leans forward with a little smile, resting his chin on one of your knees, looking between yourself and Farleigh. He watches you sigh, even with your hands over your face.

"How do you not know how safe words work? What kind of sex have you been having?" Farleigh's judgemental tone hits Oliver square in the chest, but before he can even answer, you finally sit up, expression wide and overwhelmed with frustration.

"Farleigh look at him; he's like if they made repression a person! He's been having the most boring, vanilla sex known to man - if any - and getting off in his spare time to things that would make God cry. Look him in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong -" Farleigh's gaze flicked to Oliver, who suddenly felt himself begin to flush scarlet, and had to sit back again, frowning at his hands. There was something about the shame at being so concisely called out that was... thrilling. Something about how clearly you could see through him, through his persona to the raw want at his very core, it was freeing. You sat up further, with purpose, grabbing Oliver's chin so roughly it shocked him, forcing him to look in your eyes for a long moment.

"You came in here with purpose thinking I was asleep; creepy, hot, deranged; I'm into it," you told him sternly, "I literally could not care less about you otherwise, you're nothing to me the rest of the time. You came here to put me in my place, I don't want you here if you can't do that." Fucking hell, Oliver can feel his heartbeat racing as you shove his face away, your expression almost bordering on disgust.

"So you're..." Farleigh, as if frustrated by this little tirade you saw fit to go on, was unimpressed as he once more checked in.

"Green light, obviously," you threw your hands into the air in exasperation, "it's like you've never met me before -" but before you can slump back against the bed like you so clearly wanted to, Farleigh catches you, shifts behind you to prop you up.

"You're a brat," Oliver says, finally finding the words for the dynamic, and rather charmed by it all. Still, Farleigh has to get a word in edgewise.

"How long 'd it take you to figure that out?" He muttered sarcastically, doing something behind your back while you made a show of struggling and wiggling, refusing to keep your left arm with whatever he was doing.

"So," Oliver clarified, testing out the code, "green light?" You grinned at him, giving a pleased nod. Farleigh, finally having caught your left hand seemingly for good, reiterates the statement distractedly. Then, with a sense of triumph and relief, he pulls the belt, and his makeshift handcuffs, tight.

"Why are you still dressed?" You ask Oliver sharply. You may have had a point, but the game was back on. With your hands secured, Farleigh sat back behind you on the bed, pulling you flush to him, arms secured and pressed between the two of you that was just edging on uncomfortable.

"Why are you still talking?" He mutters into your ear, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, one hand coming to wrap over your mouth, while his other curled around your middle, pulling your legs apart, wasting no time in dipping two long, elegant fingers into you. Your eyes light up, gasping against his hand as the two of you watch with lust in your eyes as Oliver begins to undress.

"The belt," Farleigh's voice has that lazy kind of smugness that Oliver usually hated, but now kind of makes his head fuzzy and kind of like he wants to sink his teeth into him, "is to keep the princess in her place, because someone," he says pointedly, not that you seem to notice; your eyes are closed, and Farleigh's thumb is on your clit while the fingers he has inside of you curl lovingly into your sweet spot, "manages to escape every pair of padded handcuffs either of us have ever bought," he explains, turning his attention back to Oliver, "and she complains about metal handcuffs, and zip ties, has undone every rope knot I've ever tied, and ruined every single tie I've ever tried to tie her up with."

"I bought you new ones," your voice is faint, half a moan muffled behind Farleigh's hand, and Oliver, still unsure of how to respond to any of that, finally turns back to the two of you on the bed. There's something desperate about the way you're arching against Farleigh's firm hold on you, legs having fallen open as your hips rolled in time with his fingers, lewd and needy. But Farleigh's eyes are only on Oliver, watching him with hunger in his eyes, pupils blown wide, gaze roaming over Oliver's physique.

At the sound of your voice, Farleigh's gaze meets Oliver's his smile widening just a touch before he stops entirely. A desperate keening is pulled from you, hips shifting for friction, for anything, as Farleigh rests his hand on your thigh, fingers slick, practically dripping with you.

"No, I'll be good," you whimper, eyes fluttering, half closed, "I'll be -" you were already breathing heavy, "so so good."

"Hear that?" Farleigh murmurs with a vindictive little smile, hand uncovering your mouth, moving to hold your chin, your mouth falling open in a moan as his nails scratch up your thighs. Oliver advances on you both, entranced by the sight of you both, desperate to have a taste, to play along.

"Think she even knows how to be good?" Oliver teases, once more between your thighs. Still, instead of giving you the same kind of proper relief that Farleigh had been offering, he starts out gentle once more.

"Oliver, you're so cruel," you whimper. Farleigh's hand moves from your jaw to wrap around your middle, holding you secure, while the hand that had sat on your thigh moves to your open mouth, Oliver watches, rapt, as he slides both slick digits past your lips, but it shuts you up well enough, lips closing on his fingers as you diligently lap up your own taste from him.

"See, can't trust a word she says," Farleigh purrs. You bite gently on his fingers as you moan, Oliver finally deciding to do more than just tease you. Oliver's fingers are shorter than Farleigh's, but damn if they can't still hit the same high notes. Curling and pressing in a steady rhythm, he alternates dipping his tongue in as much as he can, and circling your clit. Farleigh's hand has moved from your mouth, spit slicked fingers pinching at your nipples, lightly dragging his nails across your skin, while he's started rolling his hips against your back, cock unbearably hard and still confined to his boxers, pressed against you.

You're whimpering and moaning in his ear, straining against your handcuffs, arching, writhing, but Oliver's holding your thighs still and secure and Farleigh is captivated by how enthusiastically he's going down on you, how its shining on his cheeks, his nose - he reaches out, cards his fingers through Oliver's hair. Oliver looks up through his lashes, a fucking gorgeous sight that you're too lost to appreciate. Just for Farleigh.

God he could say something snide, something about sloppy seconds or something about this being the most expensive meal he'll ever have, but he doesn't. He gives a sly, approving smile, and his grip on Oliver's hair tightens.

"Teeth and tongue," he tells Oliver quietly. Oliver doesn't seem to get it at first, but you choke out a whine, arching further into Farleigh, tipping your head against his.

"That's cheating," you gasped, but Farleigh kept running his fingers through Oliver's hair, whose mouth had never left your cunt, nor his eyes Farleigh's face, "you're helping him cheat; you want me to cum this early?"

"You know what's cheating?" Farleigh once more grabbed your chin, angling your head so you could watch Oliver working hard to get you off, "look at him," Farleigh murmurs in your ear, "eyes open, on his," the commanding tone was hard to refuse, and your eyes fluttered open; the fucking sight of him, a mess between your legs, Farleigh's hand in his hair, was almost enough to send you over the edge, "tell him what I mean."

"Gentle- uh, gentle teeth on me- on my-" you desperately tried to string two words together as Oliver began to get more of an idea. Farleigh's hand on his head becoming more insistent, firmer, nose pressed firm against your skin when he finally took the hint, focusing on your clit, sucking and lapping at it, teeth gently teasing as you completely lost the ability to speak. The rhythm of his fingers was consistent and firm throughout it all, pressing just right -

"Keep your fucking eyes on him," Farleigh ordered, almost snarling it into your ear, "I want you to watch Oliver Quick make you cum." But Oliver had eyes only for him, feeling you clench around his fingers, thighs pressing desperately against his shoulder and the hand that had kept them apart, he could feel Farleigh's nails on his scalp and see the heady, smug pride in his eyes.

As you start to come down, breathing hard and heavy and leaning all your weight against Farleigh, you giggle with out of breath contentment.

"Princess's got not manners," Oliver shook his head with an air of disappointment, and Farleigh smirked, brushing some hair from Oliver's forehead before he reached up and tapped your cheek gently.

"Say thank you, Oliver."

"Thank you, Oliver," you grinned, tone surprisingly sincere, as Oliver crawled up onto the bed beside you both. But there's something dark and hungry in his eyes as he watched you both; reaching out, he presses the fingers against Farleigh's lips, your cum coating them like syrup. Farleigh is more than happy to lick them clean, tongue dancing lewdly around Oliver's digits, all kinds of inuendo and promise in his eyes.

Then, Oliver's attention turns on you something dark, hungry, almost deranged in his eyes. He takes your face in hand.

"And you, princess," he says derisively, not even respecting you enough to look you in the eyes in this moment, "this is not your place that I am putting you in," god it almost sounds like a threat, but you're already squirming with want and anticipation, "but we'll get there," he squeezes your cheeks and your mouth opens on command, tongue as pink and wet and desperate as your cunt had been. He spits in your mouth, sudden sneer curling his lip, blue eyes ice cold and demeaning; "and it's thank you, Oliver Quick."

You feel fucking filthy, can taste yourself in his spit.

You want him to do it again.

"Thank you, Oliver Quick."

{ part two here }

[fandomfucker]

Judgement Day x reader Where the reader is an absolute cuddle bug, but is afraid they might be too clingy. So Judgement Day assure them that they love how cuddly they are?

Word Count: 2,053

Reader's POV

Ever since I was a child, I was extremely touchy. I always felt the need to be not only emotionally close to all my friends and family but also physically close.

I would hug each of my friends at least twice a day, along with my teachers and parents and my usually unwilling siblings.

I was able to calm down a bit by the time I got to middle school, restraining myself from hugging just my family members and my friends who were used to it by now. High fives and wrapped arms around shoulders and waists became a norm for anyone interacting with me.

In high school, I had better learned to keep my hands to myself, only occasionally hugging my friends. But, my friend group was also a bunch of pretty touchy people so sitting next to each other with our legs touching, or laying down with our head in the lap of the other while they finger-brushed our hair was a norm for us within our friend group.

I had accepted long ago that my love language was touch but that it wasn't for everyone. One potential partner in high school even broke things off because of how touchy I am. They said it was suffocating and just 'way too much'.

Touchiness has never been an issue with my four wonderful partners now, though. Rhea, Dominik, Damian, and Finn all seemed to appreciate my touches and would even go out of their way to be closer to me sometimes.

And I love and appreciate them all for it.

My partners are all very aware of my need for touch. So, on days when I get home from work, both physically and mentally exhausted, they'll center me a a big group hug until I feel better.

When I wake up in the morning, Dominik smothers me in hugs and kisses, usually ending in hours-long cuddles until we're forced to move.

Damian often has me sit in his lap, no matter where we are. A party, backstage at a WWE show, or just hanging out in the living room of our house.

Whenever I had a particularly bad day Finn would shower me with affection, figuratively and literally. He would help me take a shower, giving me small kisses on my shoulders all the while, before giving my shoulders a massage in our bedroom.

Rhea was surprisingly the most touchy out of all my partners. She constantly had to have a hand on my waist, shoulder, arm, thigh, you name it she was touching it. She's very protective and always had to make sure that not only was she giving me what I needed, but also making sure everyone else knew I was hers as well.

The doubts didn't start until about six months into our five-way relationship when I had been at home on the couch scrolling through social media while the four of them were at Monday Night RAW.

My for you page had decided to randomly show me a video of someone who had compiled a bunch of videos and pictures of me with my partners. They had all zoomed in on my partners' faces whenever I specifically was touching them and not the other way around. The person who made the video was saying "Look at how uncomfortable the Judgment Day looks. Y/n needs to stop fucking touching them and leave them alone."

The video instilled a spark of fear in me as I read all the comments agreeing with the original poster and for the next three hours I went down a rabbit hole of TikTok videos through the search from the original video; "Y/n Y/l/n being clingy".

There were at least a hundred different TikTok videos talking about it, with tons of comments throughout. I found videos so long that they had to post them on YouTube in which what they said about me was even worse because guidelines are a bit more lax.

For those three hours until my partners got home, I watched all the mean videos, read all the mean comments, saw all the mean posts, tweets, edits, etc, and sobbed as I realized that my partners probably were just doing it all because I wanted to and that they actually just hated me.

A little after midnight I heard the garage door open and Rhea's truck as they pulled into the driveway. I threw my blanket off my lap and sprinted up the stairs to our master bath. I needed to make it look like I hadn't been crying the entire time so I threw myself into the shower, making the water as hot as possible.

3rd Person POV

The four members of the Judgment Day walked through the door, into the house doing their best to stay quiet as with all the lights off they figured their partner was probably already asleep.

Hearing a noise coming from the living room, Dominik curiously made his way towards the couch, beginning to move around blankets and pillows.

Y/n's phone fell out of a blanket and bounced onto the thick carpet floor, it's face glowing up at the ceiling as a TikTok video played on a loop.

Hearing the clunk from the phone hitting the floor, Dominik tossed the blanket he was holding back onto the couch before bending down to grab the phone.

Mention of The Judgment Day along with Y/n's name made Dominik pause, focusing on the video playing. 

"I mean, just look at their body language whenever Y/n touches them. They all always just look so uncomfortable."

Dominik watched in disbelief, as he beckoned the other Judgment Day members over to him. The group has always been pretty out about their relationship and some of them about their sexualities so haters were a norm but it was beginning to cross a line by hating their partner, who wasn't in the spotlight at all.

He beckoned the other three JD members over as the video began to play from the beginning again, holding the phone out for them all to watch.

They all watched the video in concern, Damian took the phone out of Dom's hands once it was over and began to backtrack, looking at what had previously been watched before that video.

There were several more videos about this particular topic at hand which the four of them scrolled through with growing disgust.

After several minutes of this, Rhea had a thought. "Where's Y/n?" She asked the group in a small panic.

They all looked at each other in concern before Rhea bolted up the stairs, yelling their partner's name, the boys quickly following suit.

Reader's POV

I was still in the shower about ten minutes after I had heard the garage door open and my partners come in when I began to hear Rhea screaming my name as four sets of footsteps thudded up the stairs, becoming louder as they got closer to the bathroom.

Banging soon began against the door as they all reached it. I heard each of my partners distressedly shouting my name, Rhea, however, being the loudest.

I turned the water off in a rush, wrapped my towel around myself, and got out of the shower. I fumbled with the lock, unlocking it before swinging the door open in a rush. I was met with the four panicky faces of my partners.

"What's going on, is everything okay?" I asked, genuinely confused.

Rhea rushed forward, pulling me into a tight hug. My face was squished into her chest (not that I'm complaining) and was squished even further when my other three partners came around to join the group hug.

"Guys?" I asked nervously, tilting my head up and resting my chin on Rhea's collarbone so that I could see all of their faces above me.

Finn spoke aloud for the group from my left, "Love, you left your phone open downstairs. We saw what you were looking at."

The blood would have drained from my face had it not all rushed there as the tears began to fall again.

I dropped my chin off of Rhea's chest and covered my face with my hands, the top of my head now resting against her chest instead. The four of them hugged me tighter in attempted comfort which only made me feel worse.

They hated me hugging them and just generally being all over them all the time and were now hugging me to make me feel better.

"I-I'm sorry. P-please don't be m-mad," I managed to get out through the massive sobs. I began trying to push away, out of the hug barricade they'd created around me but I wasn't able to turn around very well with how tight it was, and Rhea's way too strong to move when she doesn't want to be moved.

"We're not mad, Princesa," Damian spoke gently from behind me. That just made me cry even harder.

I was crying so hard that I was struggling to breathe. My four partners kept me close and I could feel someone stroking my hair before someone gripped my hips and turned my body to face them. 

I dropped my hands from my face to my partner's waist, realizing who it was.

Looking up, my wet, red-rimmed, eyes were met with Dominik's wide brown ones. "Hey, hey." He shushed me softly. "Those videos are fake, mi amore. Okay? We all love how touchy you are. We love your hugs and kisses and all your little touches. If we didn't we wouldn't reciprocate them."

My sobs turned to sniffles at his sweet words. He gave me a small smile as he brought a hand up to my cheek, wiping away any remaining tears from my face with his thumb. 

I closed my eyes in acceptance, another tear or two slipping out at the action which Dominik was quick to swipe away. "We mean it, Cariño," Damian spoke up again, now on my right. "We love you and your cuddliness," He reassured me, his lips kept close against my hair as he gently pried me away from Dominik and tucked me into him.

"Promise?" I questioned faintly. It was directed generally towards all four of them.

I felt Rhea's hands snake around my waist, gently swaying me towards her a bit, "We promise. We love you so much and nothing and nobody will ever change that." She gave my temple a lingering kiss, squeezing my waist before turning me towards Finn.

"Don't listen to those morons on social media, love. We're just constantly uncomfortable on camera, especially around you just because we're worried about you. There's a lot of people and a lot going on and it can get overwhelming so we're a bit on edge trying to protect ya'." He explained smoothly as he brushed a few stray hairs off of my forehead and back behind my ear.

With their protective natures, this explanation did make a lot of sense. I mean, one time Rhea actually almost fought a fan at the airport because of how close he was to me despite, me telling him to get away. I guess them being my own personal bodyguards would make them a bit tense.

"Come on, as much as I hate to say it, let's get some clothes on you and put you to bed," Rhea ordered, shoving the boys out of the way to lead me back into the bathroom. I giggled at her statement, flushing bright red as she winked at me before closing the door to the bathroom, leaving me alone again as I quickly dried off and threw on some of my partners' clothes I'd stolen.

Coming out of the bathroom I saw all four of my wonderful partners seated on the edges of our giant bed, waiting for me to get into the middle for cuddles.

I grinned and got a running start, jumping full force onto the bed. Dominik made an exaggerated 'oomph' sound as I landed, causing Damian to swat the back of his head.

Laughing at my partners' antics, I crawled under the covers before opening my arms, signaling that I was ready for the puppy pile of cuddles I was about to receive.

I made my own 'oomph' sound as Dominik flopped on top of my chest, grinning wickedly as he playfully glared at me before sticking his face into my neck.

With all four of my partners now lying on top of me or next to me to some degree, I'd never felt safer or more comfortable.

Drifting off to sleep I only had one more thought.

"I love you guys."

[carlsangel]

you owe me (g.i.t.w, ch.7)

carl grimes x fem!reader

tags: normal jazzzzz probably fluff

masterlist here!

read chapters 1-6 here!

(if you want more chapters send a req! well… when they’re open again LMAO)

After everything you chose to move into Alexandria. It was a new adjustment, that’s for sure. With everything that’d just happened, Alexandria’s walls being breached you never really got the opportunity to see it in its true form. The first week you stayed there it was all about cleaning. Getting rid of the bodies and putting them all down. It wasn’t necessarily ideal, but you had shelter.

During that week and extended into another few, the community focused on rebuilding. The wall was put back up soon after it all but things like houses needed to be fixed and refurnished. A lot of houses were covered in things like human blood, walker blood, walker guts, etc. Everything needed a nice scrub. Not to mention the newly infested pond.

Between all of that, you’d actually sort of interacted with the people of Alexandria. Or tried to at least. Everything was always awkward; every conversation you had made you wish you never spoke to Carl. Not because you don’t like Carl, but just because it was so embarrassing. You didn’t realize what it was like to interact with people again. Not everyone was going to be like Carl or your sister, Paige. You learnt that the hard way.

Regardless you met almost everyone. The most intimidating was Carls family. They knew you and appreciated you. They thanked you for saving his life but it was still terribly uncomfortable for you. The thought that you might mess it up terrified you. Your sister did her best to help.

Speaking of Paige, you actually were able to stay in an apartment with her which was something you never imagined possible. You dreamed about living together and what it’d be like when you believed she was dead, but you never thought your dream would come true. You got your own room which, again was unfathomable. You didn’t have much to decorate with but you did have Carl over for some inspiration. After PT of course. He couldn’t get up for a while after losing his eye.

“I think it’s nice.” He tells you, looking around the room and swiping the dresser of its dust. You’re sat at the edge of the bed. “I dunno…is yours decorated?” You question. He lingers by your bag in the corner, sort of just staring at it. “Not really. It had some posters before we moved in. Ron gifted me some vinyl…you know before everything.” He explains. You’re not sure how to respond, so you just nod. “Some of the records have posters in them. If you want them.” He looks down at you and smiles a little. “No it’s alright you should have them.”

You’re so comfortable with him but also so awkward. You couldn’t explain it. “I think…I’ll give them to you. You can get them tonight. At dinner.” The way he says things makes them sound so set in stone. Like he’d planned this and it was a sure and definite plan. “Dinner?” You repeat. He sits beside you and nods, still taking in the empty space of your room. “My dad invited you and Paige for dinner. Since everything is settled down, he thinks it’d be nice to get to know you. Since you saved my life and all.” That’s true. You did save his life but regardless you didn’t think you were ready.

You shake your head. “N-No I don’t think I’m ready, I mean-” You put your hands out almost defensively which he sees as a good opportunity to comfort you. He takes your hands in his and closes them together, squeezing them together. “It’ll be okay. I’ll monitor my dad almost to know what and what not to ask. Besides he always liked your sister. You’ve started on the right foot.” You process what he says but also at the same time you’re equally focused on how warm his hands are.

You trust him, however.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

That night you got ready in the nicest clothes Alexandria had to offer. Paige had left a couple minutes before you since you had some extra tasks to do before you left, but you were incredibly tempted to just ghost them. No pun intended. (get it? cause she’s the ghost in the woods—yeah ok.) You took one step off the stairs of your apartment and you turn to walk left to go to Carl’s house.

The walk there was almost hell. You overthought every scenario, every sentence you planned on saying, etc. It really was dreadful, you almost didn’t go. Until someone stopped you. Aaron. “Hey.” He stopped you from the porch of his house, you didn’t notice he’d been sitting there watching you contemplate going or not. Aaron knew you, he knew some of your interests and would bring you supplies when you lived in the woods.

“Oh.” You pause in your steps and let your hands fall away from each other, you hadn’t realized you’d been picking at your skin. “Hi.” You say shortly, not mentally prepared for the conversation. “I heard you’re scheduled for a dinner.” He tells you, almost smiling. Although he’s trying to contain it. “I just…I want you to know how often I looked for you. It seemed I was always looking in the wrong places. But I’m glad you came out of hiding.” You tilt your head a little at his explanation, something you sort of got from Carl. Although you watch him for a moment and realize how nervous he seems.

“I care about you. I understand that may be weird since you don’t even really know me…but I do.” You try to process his words, you didn’t quite realize what that felt like in the moment. All you can do in that moment is nod. “Thank you, Aaron.” You obviously have manners though. He gives a content smile and pats your shoulder. “Well don’t be so nervous. The Grimes family, well they’ve been through it all as you can tell. Michonne, well she’s a civil woman. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Except maybe Rick. He’s a bit aggressive. He punched me the first day we met.” He says in an amused tone, although that kind of makes your nerves spike.

You sort of give him a strange look. “Oh..he’s not gonna punch you or anything—you’ll be fine.” He smiles. Right, you’ll be fine. Plus Carl will be there.

Although when you got there and it came to knocking on the door you were frozen. Carl saw you approaching before you’d even got there so he opened the door regardless of whether you were ready or not. “Hey.” He seems so excited, he practically drags you inside. You hear a bit of commotion from the kitchen but Carl makes sure you’re okay first. He faces you directly and takes your hands in his. “It’s gonna be okay. They’re glad you’re here.” He explains, soon dragging you over to the kitchen. You see Michonne with Judith, just keeping her busy while your sister and Rick grab plates.

“Oh there you are. Thought you got lost.” Paige teases, drawing the attention of both Rick and Michonne. You sort of just stare, unsure of what to do. You’ve sort of met them before, when helping around you took instructions from them, but you’ve never spent real time with them. “We’re glad to have you.” Rick smiles and nods, something you’ve learnt is a Grimes thing. You remain silent. “Jesus say thank you or something. Did the apocalypse make you forget your manners?” Paige remarks.

“Right. Thank you. For inviting me.” Rick smiles a bit at your response, glancing back to Michonne who had the identical smirk on her face. It was so obvious how nervous you were. But that didn’t matter. It was dinner time now, you helped set the table with Paige and be for you knew it, you were sat down in awkward silence with the Grimes family.

You poked around your food and took bites, completely unaware of the fact that everyone was glancing your way every so often to see if you’d actually make eye contact with any of them. Which you didn’t. So, Michonne took initiative.

“Rick actually has something he wants to say to you.” She forces a smile and looks over to Rick who finds it amusing. You look up at him and he waits before explaining. “I know we didn’t really get off on the right foot.” He starts, Carl and Paige already know where this is going so they look at each other and smile. “I sorta…you know—”

“Threw her to the ground?” Michonne interrupts. He chuckles. “Yeah, I did. I guess I should apologize, but I need you to know where I was comin’ from.” He explains. But you already knew, therefore he didn’t need to say anything else. “That’s fine. I get it. A strange girl who lingered in the trees is a bit alarming. I don’t blame you. But you owe me.” You smile. You can hear the others giggle at your claim and Rick raises his eyebrows. “I owe you?” He says unserious. “You know what, you’re right. How can I pay you back?” He sets his fork down and rests his arms on the table to take you seriously.

“Well, when yanking me to the floor I fell back on a lot of my belongings. My walkman being one of them. It basically shattered and I’d like a new one.” You propose. Rick looks to Michonne who nods. “Sounds like a good deal. Her forgiveness for a walkman?” She says. Everything about this conversation seemed so playful to you. You knew they were being serious, but they were acting so official and it was funny. You were comfortable.

“Well I guess I should since you helped us. Not to mention you’re of great importance to my son over there.” He smiles. You look over to Carl who was already looking at you. Your sister would tell you later when you got home that he’d been staring at you this entire time. But anyway, back to your deal. You both shook on it and the dinner went on.

Real soon, you’d have your walkman back. With it, you’d get a mixtape from Carl.

Since he’d be the one you’d be using the walkman with.

a/n: yall gotta forgive me for being absent for so long IM SORRY MANNNN I AM I PROMISE look i just simply have been incredibly busy with school, being a senior is not for the weak trust <//3 also writers block has me in a chokehold BUT IM ON IT I PROMISE

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @smollbean42905 @deadgirlwalkingx @txrasbae @lalaloopsie12309 @crusadecherryblossom @violetashfall @zombiigrll @amanita-raine @prettylittlevampire12 @shadowybasementmiracle @junkyard-juno27 @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @sophiaatwdluver @baileebear @tabathastan @sstar-ggirl

[yourfriendlyfanperson]

A Chemical Reaction Called Love

Chapter 1: A missing case in a small town

~Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!reader

~Summary: Being the daughter of Hawkins Middle School Science teacher, Scott Clarke, has its perks. Constantly having to explain things to 'King' Steve Harrington wasn't necessarily one of them but it was something you had gotten used to. He might not be the brightest guy but at least he tried, and you appreciated that. You had big plans for the future, but they might be forced to change thanks to a phone call...

~Warnings: Sensitive topics might be brought up so reader discretion is advised.

~Word Count: 3.3K

~Authors Note: Hey everyone! This is my first time posting my fanfics in tumblr, I have them in ao3 or w-tpadd usually, but I've wanted to post them in tumblre for a long time. If someone knows how to do the fancy chapter thing where you add the numbers at the top please let me know! Any support is very much appreciated! This fanfic is still in the works! You can find me on Ao3 as Lilpipsqueak and W-tpadd as friendlyfanperson!

~Narrator's POV~

"And to that, you need to add?"

"Hydrochloric acid," Y/n says turning to look at her dad as she remembers the answer, both of them walking through the car park of Hawkins Middle School as Y/n revised for her chemistry test which was in a couple of minutes. She always did well in her exams, especially her science ones, given the fact her dad was a science teacher so he always helped her out, but she still liked to revise before each exam.

"Great, you're all set for the exam," He tells her with a smile.

"Thanks for helping me out dad," She says.

"Morning Mr. Clarke!" Dustin shouts as he walks up to them, Lucas behind him, "Morning Y/n"

"Good morning Dustin, Lucas, how are you boys doing today?" He asks them.

"We're okay," Lucas tells him.

"Where's Mike?" Y/n asks them, knowing the three, though usually four boys, always arrived at school together.

"He should be here soon," Dustin told her, "What are you studying?" He asks.

"Chemistry, I have an exam first period, I should probably get going," She tells them with a smile, "See you later kids, be careful, and I'll meet you at your classroom after school dad"

"Good luck with the exam, honey," Her dad says as she walks away.

"Bye Y/n!" The two boys add waving at her.

She takes out her headphones and puts them on as she starts listening to "Oh, Pretty Woman" by Roy Orbinson, walking to Hawkins High School and focusing on the lyrics. She looked back at the boys who were happily talking with her dad, and all she could think about was the 4th member of their party, Will Byers, who had gone missing yesterday. She knew him really well, after all, she was always helping Joyce by looking after him while she and Jonathan worked, he was like the little brother she never had. When she heard the news about Will's disappearance she was devastated, she couldn't imagine Will running away or getting himself in some kind of trouble, but she also couldn't imagine him getting kidnapped by anyone in Hawkins, sure you had your usual creeps like every other town, but none that would ever do such a thing. All she could do, for now, was help around with the investigation and stay alert for anything weird so he could hopefully be found soon.

"Jonathan!" Y/n shouts as she sees him walking to school in front of her, she pauses the song taking off her headphones and walks towards him.

"Y/n, hey," He says, looking more tired than usual.

"Have you heard anything?" She asked him, hoping for some good news.

"Nothing yet, I'm going to check and see if my dad has something to do with it though I doubt it, he never cared about us" Jonathan explains to her as they start walking towards the main doors.

"Well if you need anything at all, just let me and my dad know okay?"

"Okay, I'll make sure to let you know," He says.

Y/n smiles at him, she looks down and notices a paper in his hand.

"What's that?" She asks him.

"Oh, just a missing poster my mom and I made, I'm going to put it in the school news board so people can keep a lookout," He tells her handing her the poster.

She takes it looking down at it, 'Have you seen me?' is written in capital letters on the top of the page with two pictures of Will under it, the general information about him and the clothes he was wearing when he went missing.

"We'll find him, I'm sure of it, Will's smart, he'll be okay," She tells Jonathan handing the paper back to him, hoping that the words coming out of her mouth will come true.

"I hope so, I really hope so," He says as they walk into the school, "I'll see you later"

"Yeah, I'll see you around" She adds waving goodbye at him as he goes over to the news board.

Y/n puts her headphones back on as she starts walking down the corridor, she sees Nancy and Barbara standing with none other than Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, which she found extremely surprising, after all, Nancy and Barbara are not popular, at all, so it was strange to see them together, she had heard rumours though that Steve was going out with Nancy, so she guessed they must be true because there's no other reasonable option for them to be even near each other. Y/n gets along well with everyone really, she's nice to people and helps them out during lessons so luckily no one had ever really found a reason to bully her, which allowed Y/n to get through her so far 3 years of high school without a problem.

She talked with Nancy sometimes, they weren't necessarily friends but they were more than classmates, especially given the fact she knew the Wheelers quite well. Barbara and Y/n had interacted before but they didn't really talk, she got the feeling Barbara didn't like her very much, but she could never figure out why. She never really spoke to Tommy or Carol except when they needed help during class, but they didn't bother her so she didn't really care about them.

And then there was Steve Harrington, Y/n had known him since middle school, growing up in a small town means you pretty much grow up with everyone you go to high school with, in middle school they didn't really talk, Y/n had her friends and Steve had his, it wasn't really until the start of sophomore year when they started sitting next to each other in science that they started talking. Steve isn't the brighter student, but he has parents that have high expectations for him, so he needs to do good in school, lucky for him he sat next to Y/n. The first thing he said to her when she sat next to him on that first day of sophomore year was "Clarke you're smart, help me out here" and she did exactly that.

Did Y/n think Steve was a bad person? Not really, he had always been kind to her and he actually put effort during lessons when she helped him, so she appreciated that. Did she think the rumours about him were true? Yeah, Steve is famously known around the school not only for being the King of Hawkins high school, but also for making all the girls fall in love with him, and sleeping with them, and as far as Y/n knew that was true, most of the girls she knew had liked him at some point, most except her, and her best friend, Robin Buckley. Robin had an entirely different reason for not liking him than Y/n did though, Robin couldn't like Steve, Y/n on the other hand technically could, she just didn't see anything special about him, sure he's good looking, she accepts that, but he's a bit of an asshole to some people, he's way too popular and has a huge ego, and she didn't really like that.

"Oh, god, that's depressing" She heard Steve say as she walked past them, she knew they were talking about Jonathan, he was known around as a freak, but those weren't news to Y/n.

"Should we say something?" Nancy asked them.

"I don't think he speaks," Carol told her, chuckling.

"How much you wanna bet he killed him?" Tommy asked.

Y/n stopped walking, listening to what he said, she was a nice person, and she was calm, but like any decent human being, she had her limits.

She turned around to look at them as she opened her mouth ready to snap at Tommy, but before she could say anything, Steve pushed Tommy shaking his head.

"Shut up," He said, not much, the minimum actually, but his tone did show that even he knew Tommy had gone too far, she knew that in comparison to her telling Tommy something, he would at least listen to Steve, and so she decided to keep on walking away as she put her music back on.

Sometimes Y/n asked herself how things would be if Steve didn't hang out with assholes like Tommy and Carol, she believed, from what she knew and saw, that in comparison to them Steve was actually a good person, which she supposes isn't something necessarily hard to be, but from what she had learned about Steve from sitting next to him in the last year and a half, she could tell he was actually a kind person with a good heart when he was away from them, and she guessed he had probably ended up being the way he was because of the friends he has.

"Earth to Y/n!" She snapped out of her thoughts as she looked up, seeing none other than Robin in front of her, "Morning weirdo"

"Morning freak, how are you doing?" She asked Robin, pausing her music and taking off her headphones, stopping at her locker and opening it.

"I am actually doing pretty decent today, which is unusual given the fact I have a stupid math exam first period, and I also have to seat next to Jim, but I guess I shouldn't complain about being in a good mood" She explains to Y/n, rambling, as usual, thought Y/n didn't mind, she actually enjoys listening to Robin over share.

"Well, regardless of the math exam and having to seat next to Jim I'm glad you're having a good morning," Y/n tells her smiling as she takes out her books and puts them in her locker.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm alright, just worried about the chemistry exam and Will," She tells her closing her locker and turning around to fully look at Robin.

"I hope they find him soon," She tells her, worried, even though Robin had never spoken to Will she knew he was Y/n's friend, and she also knew no kid deserves to go through the trauma of going missing.

The school bell starts ringing, Y/n and Robin look at each other with worry.

"Time for the stupid exam," Robin says as they start walking to their classrooms.

"We've got this, it's just common sense," Y/n tells her trying to make sure she doesn't get too stressed.

"Right, just common sense" Robin repeats, not believing a thing, "I'll see you at recess, good luck, love you"

"Love you too, good luck" Y/n tells her as she walks away and into her chemistry room.

She walks inside the classroom and takes a seat at her table, putting her bag on the floor as she takes out her chemistry book, she knows Mr. Thompson gives them some time to do some last minutes studying, so she can at least look over things one last time.

"You could've phrased it differently," She says turning to look at Steve walking over to his desk.

"What?" He asks looking at her confused.

"What you said about Jonathan, well, more like the way you said it, about him putting up a poster being depressive, it actually is, his brother is missing and his family have already been having a hard time, it's not really something to joke about" She explains to him.

"Oh, right, well I'm sorry," He says, and to Y/n's surprise she can actually tell he means it and is being serious, "Today's the exam right?" Steve asks as he takes a seat next to her.

"Yeah, did you study?" She asks him.

"You'll be proud to hear I actually did, so I think I'm going to do pretty well today," He says smirking at her, taking out his notebook.

"Well I am proud, I can't believe you actually studied"

"Neither can I, it was only for like an hour though so don't be too proud," He tells her chuckling.

"Right of course, that I am not surprised about" She adds smiling at him.

The class ended up having 5 minutes to study, which were all taken by Steve asking Y/n a bunch of questions regarding his notes and the things he hadn't understood, but at least she was able to explain things to him before the time ran out.

The exam lasted an hour, for Y/n it was an hour of her just answering the questions, which were surprisingly easy, but for Steve, it was an hour of either trying to remember what he just read or looking over at Y/n with puppy eyes trying to get her to help him up, and she did, for like two questions, the hardest ones in the test, because she knew that giving him most of the answers would help no one, not even him.

Once the time was up Y/n and Steve, along with the rest of the class, stood up and left the paper on Mr. Thompson's desk.

"How do you think you did?" Steve asks Y/n as they walked back to their desks and grabbed their bags.

"I think I did pretty good, how about you?"

"I actually think I did decent, but we'll have to see," He tells her as they walk out of the classroom.

"I guess we will," She tells him.

"Thanks again for helping me out with the two questions, I really didn't understand them"

"It's alright, they were a bit hard and took away a lot of points, I'll see you next lesson Harrington," She tells him, as she starts turning around to go to her next class.

"Yep, see you later, Einstein"

Einstein, Steve's famous nickname for Y/n, he came up with it after she started helping him in science, he called her Einstein for two reasons; The first one being the fact that in his eyes she was extremely smart, like genius smart, she didn't personally think she was that good at science, but she knew she was better than average, or at least better than Steve; And the second reason was that Albert Einstein was the only scientist Steve actually knew something about, because if he really wanted to give her a nickname that actually made sense, he would've called her Marie Curie, given the fact Y/n was better at chemistry than physics.

The rest of the day went by smoothly, just like most. Y/n had her lessons, then her breaks, and talked with Robin, it was a simple day, which was all she could really ask for.

"And I mean he doesn't even like her, I don't understand what she can see in him" Robin complained as they walk out of the school.

"I mean most girls probably like him based on looks purely, I bet most haven't even had a proper conversation with him, and come on Robin you can do better than wannabe Madonna anyway," She tells her.

Wanna be Madonna is their nickname for Tammy Thompson, they couldn't just go around the school talking about the girl Robin liked without a worry in the world, someone could hear and that would just be chaos.

"I guess, I mean she's just so pretty, and don't know what but there's just something about her that I find hypnotic almost" Robin explains as they walk to the bus.

"I mean she's pretty, but let's be honest how likely is it for her to be anything else but straight?" She asked Robin, whispering the last part.

"Not likely, like at all, god I'm going to be single forever," She said moving her hands to cover her face in defeat.

"No you won't, Robin I guarantee you that one of these days you're going to meet the girl of your dreams and we'll look back at this moment and laugh about your crush on her, trust me," Y/n says moving her hand to Robin's shoulder.

"I hope so, but we'll see, I'll see you tomorrow, take care weirdo," Robin says as she gets on the bus.

"Goodbye freak" Y/n shouts at her walking away to the middle school.

She sees Dustin and Lucas rushing out of the school towards their bikes, in a panic.

"Hey! What's the rush?" She asks them.

"I-umm, nothing, it's nothing, don't worry" Dustin shouts as they get their bikes and pedal away.

"Well that was weird" She mumbles walking inside the school.

She made her way through the corridor and knocked on her dad's classroom as she walked in.

"Hey dad," She says smiling.

"Hey honey, how did your test go?" He asks her, organising some papers on his desk.

"I think it went well, we get the results next lesson"

"Well, I'm sure you did wonderfully," He tells her.

"Hopefully, how were the boys feeling today?" She asks, taking a pile of the papers.

"Well Mike didn't come to school, his mom called to say he wasn't feeling well, he seems really worried about Will" He explains to her as he gets his bag, grabs the other pile of papers, and starts walking out of the room.

"I can't even imagine how worried they must be, I really hope they find him, have they heard anything?"

"Well apparently Earl saw Will, so I'm going around with some others to help look for him," He tells her, locking the door behind him.

"Can I go? I want to help, I don't want to sit at home doing nothing"

He looked at her unsure, ever since Will's disappearance he had been worried sick about some lunatic going around Hawkins, he was worried about something happening to Y/n, but he also knew it was better to let her do things before she found a way to do them herself.

"Sure, but you'll be with me the whole time, okay?"

"You got it chief" She smiled.

~~~~

"So, what exactly do we need to look for? Apart from a small boy, of course," Y/n asks her dad as they walk through the woods.

The evening was a cold one, but it was early November so it was to be expected, the woods were covered in darkness, the only thing giving them light being the flashbacks they had. There were at least fifty people around looking for Will, so hopefully, they could find something.

"Well, we need to look out for anything that might give us a clue to someone being around here, maybe blood, some clothes, an object of his" He explains looking around the ground for anything.

Y/n nods looking around as well but stops when she sees a small hole, she wasn't sure if it was part of the sewers or if it led somewhere else, so she kneeled down in front of it as she looked inside, the space was small but big enough for a small kid to go through it.

"Will!" She shouts, she waits for a response, but there's none, and then she sees it, a ripped-out piece of clothing.

"Dad! Dad! I found something!" She says, Scott immediately turns to her kneeling down.

"What is it?" He asks.

"Look, it's like someone came out from here and ripped a piece of their shirt, don't you think?" She questions.

"Maybe," He says, he takes his whistle and alerts the Chief of police Hopper that they found something.

"Hey, what do you got?" Hopper asks as he runs up to them.

"Not sure," Scott tells him.

"I found this, in there," Y/n tells him, handing him the ripped piece of shirt.

"No way a kid can crawl through there" Officer Powell says, looking inside.

"I don't know, a scared enough one might, his brother said he was good at hiding," Hopper told him.

"And he's small, I could see him fitting through there" Y/n adds, "Do you think it could be Will's?"

"I don't know kid, we'll have to see," Hopper says standing up and walking away.

Thank you for reading!

[raayllum]

Was considering making this a ficlet (and I still might) but a tiny meta for day 3 of Snake Boi Callum week: Your Deepest Truth / Complicated.

But I really steadily appreciate how arc 2 builds up Callum's deepest truth, not only in regards to the Knowing motif or the full set up (explored in further detail here), but also in other indications throughout the season. Season 4 starts small, with Ezran's faith ultimately being what Callum 'sees' clearly in 6x06:

Then season 5 takes this same idea — of enduring love, of deep love, of love being knowing and presence in contrast to absence, uncertainty, and lack of / repressed love — and builds on it.

[To love is simply to] know this: the tides are true as the ocean is deep. It means I trust her. Unconditionally. (5x01)

Rayla. We've been through a lot, and a lot has changed. Well, some things have changed, but not everything. I would do anything for you. (5x04)

The Ocean arcanum is accepting there are depths you can't see, parts of yourself you can't understand, and things you can't control. (5x08)

So 5x01 and 5x08 take that idea of love having untold depths, and link it to the ocean arcanum (and Callum's understanding of the arcanum). Said arcanum is also scaffolded on Callum's experiences on Finnegrin's ship, specifically his choice to do dark magic again, which is also lampshaded by Finnegrin's dialogue throughout the episode referencing Callum's vow(s) to Rayla in 5x04 ("You'll do anything for them" / "I hope you know—" "I know" / "To love is simply to know this").

Then we get to season six, which uses other characters and dynamics to build up to Callum (and Rayla's) connection in 6x06.

Viren's "The path of freedom is the path of truth" in 6x01 sets in motion the — at the time — subtextual notion of Rayla being in opposition to Aaravos and the embodiment of Callum's freedom. Janai says to Amaya in 6x02 that "You are my heart and my truth. If I ever start to doubt you, I'll know that I am truly lost." When Terry encourages Claudia to make her own choices in 6x04, he cites, "Only you can see your own deep truth. Only you can decide the path you’re going to walk. [...] You have to choose the way. What do you need to find your truth?"

So in quick succession, we have truth associated with 1) something deep and inherent, 2) the subsequent path of / to freedom, 3) someone being your heart / that it can be someone in your life. All of these concepts are reaffirmed in Rayla's lullaby in 6x05 with the added bonus of identity:

RAYLA: "Though the sky is dark tonight, I still shine for you my dear. The moon is more than just her light, I am near; my love is here. Though you feel so much alone, oh, my darling, do not fear. Hold to what you've always known, I am near; my love is here. Though my face cannot be seen, the answer in your heart is clear. I am the moon, the silver queen. I am near; my love is here." I know who you are. Esmeray.

Callum goes into the darkness in 6x06, and it's all he can see. He's literally blindfolded and can't see Rayla's face. Yet he sees her — Rayla's love for him, and his love for her — as his Light. As his heart and path and truth. His deepest truth. What seemed so complicated in her absence and confusing upon her return is eclipsed by the sanctity and assuredness of what he knows down to his bones, and thereby knows himself through in his own sense of identity as well.

I would tell you that you all my choices were nothing and you were everything. (6x03) KOSMO: The truth is complicated. VIREN: Life is complicated. But if it's love, nothing else matters. (6x06)

(This is also reflected in Claudia's assertions in 6x08 that Viren "needs to show [her] the right path. You taught me who I am and how to love myself" though we'll see if those hold.)

This also, as noted in the above metas, link to Aaravos' stances on truth. He never lies because he never needs to. Sol Regem accidentally killing his mate is a "deep, dark truth." The tagline for his S7 poster forewarns, "Lies hide in the shadows, but the darkest truths hide in the light."

While Rayla being Callum's deepest truth isn't complicated, the direction his love for her may steer his choices could be truly, temporarily awful, and I for one can't wait.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 30

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 27, part 28, part 29

“Thank you for inviting me over, again,” Wayne says as Claudia puts the casserole on the table. “It’s been a while since I’ve eating something other than hospital food.”

“Oh please, it’s no trouble at all,” she assures. “I’ve been asking Dusty to invite you over for weeks now. It never hurts to have a homemade meal. Especially when everything around us is so crazy.”

She has literally been asking Dustin to invite Wayne over for weeks. It gets brought up almost every night at dinner. He would have earlier, but he didn’t want to be an imposition. There was enough going on, Wayne didn’t need to answer all of his mom’s questions. Dustin having to dodge them was already hard enough.

But he knew that she would never stop asking. So finally, to give both him and his mom a break, from being asked and asking respectively, he extended the invitation. Making sure to stress that Wayne did not have to take it. And Dustin would bring the news to his mother and make sure that she never brought it up again.

That is not what happened, though. Wayne had taken a second to think and then thanked Dustin. Said it would be nice to finally meet his mom. And now they were meeting, and it totally wasn’t awkward as Claudia asks about every little thing known to man.

She means well, Dustin knows that. But questions can go from harmless to hurtful in seconds. Wayne’s been through enough heartache the past two months, he didn’t need more.  

“So, I hear that Eddie is doing well in his physical therapy.”

“Uh yeah,” Wayne says. Pushing his food around his plate a bit. “He’s gaining a lot of his strength back. A few more weeks and he might be able to come home.”

It might be less than a few weeks. Eddie’s been recovering a lot faster than the doctor’s initially thought. He’s able to stand, for short periods of time, with just some crutches or a walker. And he’s starting to be able to lift more with his arms. Realistically, he might be able to come home next week.

“Oh, well isn’t that great. I’m sure he will be glad to go home and sleep in his own bed.”

Except Eddie doesn’t have a real bed. Wayne’s been staying in a motel for months now. The upside down splitting his house in two. Ruining almost everything that they had.

“Mom,” Dustin whispers. “We talked about this.”

Dustin sees the optimistic look on his mother’s face fall. Realizing her wording and the faults that lie within it.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I just meant that Eddie would be happy to sleep anywhere other than the hospital. That’s all.”

Wayne shakes his head. “I know. And I appreciate the sentiment. I’m sure he will be happy to get out of there.”

Dustin knows that he will. He’s been itching for something different. The neutral walls of the hospital and channels full of soap operas getting boring fast. The constant check-ins. The tests. Everything you would expect from a hospital. But it gets repetitive and annoying after a while. Especially when Eddie claims he doesn’t need half that crap now anyway.

He’s probably lying. Or being stubborn. But Dustin can’t help but agree to some extent. Until the little voice in his heads reminds him of what’s outside the walls of the hospital, and the world Eddie’s going to walk back into.

People have generally calmed down as time went on. The posters with taunts written in bright red ink have started to slow. The vandalism on Eddie’s locker is starting to fade. Less things get thrown at Dustin and the rest of the guys. People are starting to forget the manhunt. Their focus turned on the warming weather and making it through the last month of school.

The only thing that bothers him is the fact that Eddie hasn’t been seen in almost two and a half months. If he’s including the week of spring break. All the press had to right their articles where old pictures from the yearbook and anything they could get from the people who hated him. There’s no telling what the headlines will be once Eddie’s discharged.

As hard as Hopper has tried, Eddie is still branded as a suspect in the eyes of the public. The government is really dragging their feet to clean up their mess this time around. And there is no reliable person to pin this on like last time. The lab in Hawkins hasn’t been active in two years. It was in Nevada or wherever the hell El was while getting her powers back. And the quake can’t explain the string of murders, like the mall fire cover up did.

They’re at the dead end trying to fix this, but Eddie should be in the clear. There’s just that string of doubt that refuses to break in his mind.

“I’ve been seeing a lot of houses put up for sale in the paper,” Claudia continues their conversation. “Have you been looking at any of them?”

“A few. But nothing’s set in stone yet. I’ve been trying to get a place before Eddie gets out, but he might beat me to it.”

A house would definitely help the possible problems swirling around in Dustin’s mind. Eddie would have a place to hide. A bed that might be more comfortable than a motel’s. And a place where he can feel safe. Without the possibility of an eviction for poor company.

“Well, if you need help, I can give you the number of the realtor we used when we moved to town. If she’s still here, that was almost ten years ago. But she got us a great deal on this house, below asking price. With the way people are flooding out of this town, you should be able to get a good deal on one.”

Wayne smiles. “I’d love that, if you could.”

After the dinner, Claudia searches for the old business card of their realtor in the junk drawer. She finds it, somehow, and hands it to Wayne. Who thanks her for the meal and a great evening. Then goes on his way.

Dustin’s beginning to have a spark of an idea. It could work, he just needs to do some convincing.

tag list (capping at 100, only 1 spots left): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[kairiscorner]

this shit got me giggling like TEEHEE

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

dating model au miguel o'hara (as an ordinary person)

honestly, miguel folds when you praise or compliment him. he wouldn't believe him if you told him at first how handsome he was when you two met, and he still doesn't, even if he's a sought-after model that's known the world over.

"y'know, i'm just okay, right? the real pretty one here is... none other than you."

LIKE SERIOUSLY, he was just sought out one day and suddenly, he'd on the cover of all kinds of magazines and posters. he doesn't exactly let that get to his head, though--it's just, in his opinion, a job. coming home to you and treating you the way he knows you should be treated is all that really matters to him.

he didn't mind posing with other people before on camera in intimate ways, but it became harder for him when he met you, because all he could think about when he's holding another person so romantically or intimately is, "i bet holding them would feel like heaven, this is... this is nothing compared to how it'd feel like to hold them."

he's gotten so used to forwarding calls to his agents that he's made it his daily habit to send a bunch of calls his agents' ways. but when you called him for the first time, when he heard your voice and realized this was no representative from a fashion agency or advertising company or wherever else they needed him to pose for--it was just you, that was the very first time in a long while that he had a real conversation with someone who cared about him for him.

that was when he fell in love with you, and kept falling for you when he realized you didn't give a damn whether he was a model or not. he really didn't get how a guy like him was so lucky to have someone like you, so beautiful, so kind, so patient, so gentle, and capable--and here you were overthinking whether he loved you or not, of course he does!

he constantly forces his agents to clear out his schedules for certain hours so he can meet up with you on your commute home and have dinner with you, maybe even catch a movie with you, go shopping, or just... cuddle, sit together in the silence, and just love you without any cameras or flashing lights involved :>

you make him feel so normal, so real, so actually alive, reminding him he has a life outside of the lives many others expect him to live as a high-class and in-demand model. he loves coming home to you at the end of a photoshoot, whether you're asleep or awake waiting for him, and just being close to you, admiring how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you, despite how chaotic his schedule is compared to yours. he might as well just quit to be your model forever <3

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck

[mercillery]

hi there can you make a continuation of the college au zogratis siblings confessing that they have a crush on y/n but y/n said no bc y/n is not ready for a relationship with them?

btw i wish you are doing well and i definitely love your writing style 💕

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD + DANTE SUCKS

NOTES: Zogratis siblings aaaaaaaAaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I love them. I hope you’re doing well too, anon. <3

ZENON ZOGRATIS

Zenon actually takes the rejection like a champ. There’s no dramatic pause, no brooding silence, no stormy expression like you might expect. Nope. Instead, he just nods. Like…really nods. One of those slow, deliberate nods that makes you wonder if he’s processing the situation or mentally reviewing his grocery list.

“Okay,” he says, his face calm as ever, but there’s a tiny glint of understanding in his eyes. You almost expected something more—maybe a little frustration or at least a flicker of disappointment. But nope, Zenon is just Zenon, unflappable and composed, as if you’d just told him the weather forecast, not that you weren’t ready to date him.

He doesn’t push, doesn’t pry. He’s not the type to get mad or act hurt because you didn’t leap into his arms after his confession. If anything, he respects your decision without question, like the stoic guy he is.

No pressure. No drama. Just Zenon, chilling with the fact that feelings are complicated and people need time. He’s not going to hold it against you, and honestly? You kind of appreciate that about him. If only more people could take a no as coolly as Zenon does. He could probably write a self-help book about how to handle rejection with grace.

Honestly, there's not much to unpack here. He’s just cool with it. Like, he gets it—maybe even better than most. Zenon’s not exactly the poster child for romantic relationships, or any relationships for that matter. His idea of intimacy is probably limited to nodding at someone from across the room. So when you say you’re not ready, he’s like, “Yeah, makes sense.” He’s not about to pressure you, and he’s definitely not going to pull a rom-com “Wait, but I love you!” moment.

BUT (and here’s the kicker), although he won’t openly admit it, if you ever change your mind? He’s there. Oh, he’ll be there. The second you give him even the slightest hint of readiness, Zenon’s already in position like it’s a chess game he’s been waiting to win. He’ll probably keep his poker face on, but don’t be fooled—inside, he’s absolutely down for it.

VANICA ZOGRATIS

Now, unlike Zenon, Vanica isn’t the type to just nod and move on. Oh no, she’s got a whole different approach. While she’s not going to full-on force you into a relationship (because, you know, boundaries exist), she’s definitely persistent—like a stubborn, hyper puppy that just won’t quit. When you tell her you aren’t ready for a relationship, she hits you with the classic “yeah, anyway,” as if your response was merely a speed bump on her road to victory.

You thought saying “no” would end the conversation? That’s cute. The next day, she’s right back at it, asking you again with that wild grin of hers. “So, you ready now?” And then the day after that, “How about today? Feel like being my partner yet?” She’s relentless, but in that charming, chaotic way only Vanica can pull off. You could say you’re not ready a hundred times, and she’ll just shrug, fully convinced that one of these days, you’re going to cave.

It’s like a daily ritual at this point. You say you’re not ready, and she laughs, twirls a strand of her hair, and replies, “Well, I’ll be here tomorrow!” It’s less pressure and more persistence, like she’s playing a long game and having way too much fun with it.

Like I said, Vanica’s not about forcing you into a relationship, but she’s got consistency down to an art form. If persistence were an Olympic sport, she’d have a gold medal. Every day, she’s back with the same question, and let me tell you—this girl could go on forever. Do not, I repeat, *do not* underestimate her determination. You could tell her "no" a thousand times, and she’d still be like, “Okay, cool. See you tomorrow!”

In short, Vanica is *not* going to stop chasing after your love. She’s like a determined romantic Terminator—she *will* be back. Honestly, you’d have to move to another dimension to avoid her at this point, and even then, she’d probably find a way to follow. And if you think she’ll eventually give up? Wrong. She’ll literally rise from the dead, all “surprise! Miss me? Sooo, you ready to be with me now?” The chase is never over with Vanica—she’s in this for the long haul, no matter how long that haul might be.

DANTE ZOGRATIS

I’m so sorry but he’s a prick.

The guy has “entitled” written all over him. The moment you tell him you’re not ready for a relationship, it’s like he’s suddenly hard of hearing. “Not ready? What does that even mean?” To him, that’s not an excuse—it’s more of a challenge. And Dante? He *loves* a challenge.

So, yes, he absolutely pushes you into a relationship. Subtlety isn’t exactly in his vocabulary. He doesn’t care if you say you’re not ready—he’s decided that you *are*, and that’s the end of the discussion. By tomorrow morning, the entire campus will know that you two are “official,” whether you agreed to it or not. Honestly, it’s like Dante thinks relationships are a dictatorship, and surprise!—he’s the dictator.

He’s the type to “make” you ready for a relationship, whether you actually want it or not. It’s all very... *Dante.* Control is his game, and you’re just a piece on the board he’s moving however he pleases. If you’re not ready? Too bad, because he’s ready for both of you. By the time he’s done, you’ll practically need a press release to convince people you *aren’t* dating.

In my last post about this, I mentioned how Dante would shoves a bouquet of flowers in your face—yeah, that’s not an exaggeration. He’s not exactly subtle. Right after, he invites you to dinner, and boom—you’re suddenly on the spot. Don’t think for a second this happened by accident. Oh no, Dante *absolutely* did this on purpose. The man’s got strategy, and his strategy is making you so uncomfortable that rejecting him feels impossible.

Here’s the thing: if there’s one thing Dante Zogratis *cannot* handle, it’s rejection. Especially when *he’s* the one putting his pride on the line. This guy is used to people throwing themselves at him. He doesn’t confess, he gets confessed *to.* So, the moment he flips the script and confesses to you? You better believe he’s expecting nothing but a “yes.” No playing dumb, no pretending you didn’t hear him, and definitely no blunt rejection. That’s why he puts you on the spot—to corner you into saying yes.

He’s not giving you a way out because, frankly, he doesn’t believe there *is* one. In his mind, you’ll say yes because that’s just how it works with Dante. It’s his world; you’re just living in it. So, when he hands you those flowers and invites you to dinner with a charming smirk that says, “I *dare* you to say no,” know that he’s already decided how this is going to go down—and spoiler: it’s not in your favor.

Don’t even think about saying you’re not ready for a relationship. He’ll shrug you off, sure—he might even pull a Vanica-style “yeah, anyway,” but trust me, he’s *not* backing off. He’s the “Oh, you’re not ready? Well, good thing I wasn’t really asking” kind of pushy. You can practically hear the unspoken “I’ll make you ready” in his voice. He’s relentless, like a bulldozer with a superiority complex.

The very last line for Dante’s part was "either you reciprocate his feelings, or you destroy your life by declining them." Yeah, that wasn’t just for dramatic effect—it’s the cold, hard truth. Dante doesn’t handle rejection like a normal person. Instead of taking it on the chin, he uses his reputation and popularity to make sure *you* feel the consequences. Rejecting him? Big mistake. Your social status? Consider it in the negatives. You’ll go from minding your own business to being the person who dared to turn down *Dante Zogratis.*

Yeah, he sucks. He’s the kind of guy who’s convinced you’ll come around, whether you like it or not. To Dante, your feelings are just a minor detail to be adjusted along the way. He’s already decided the outcome—you’re either with him, or you’re dealing with the fallout of crossing him. Sorry!

[ushys]

Hiiiii!✨️

Could I request a Floyd with a S/o who's one of their og fans? Like- the reader is such a big fan that they'll do covers of older brozone songs and some of Floyd's newer work at their own concerts sometimes.

The reader is singing their heart out and Floyd is in the crowd like "Wait a minute- I RECOGNIZE THAT SONG-" and after the show he starts fangirling with his s/o bc they actually like his music.

(Bonus points if he gives them a lil smooch at the end-)

TYSM!✨️

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐆 𝐅𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐍! 𝐒/𝐎

AN: OMLL THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA 😭💕 this is a big bonus for me since i am a floyd (and branch) stan myself so this is a win win

content: fluff, floyd being a cutie, gn! reader (they/them pronouns used), singer! reader, head cannons with a little one shot at the end, not proof read so sorry for any mistakes (might recheck later!

- you considered yourself to be a die hard fan of brozone like if anyone were to ask you anything about any member, you could have an answer in a blink of an eye

- you were the so proclaimed "#1 floyd stan" however, having tons of merch and knowing interesting facts about him

- i mean, how could you not stand him? he was the cutest member in your eyes

- "oh yeah i'm def going to get with floyd, he's literally the same age as me hello? he wants me so bad." - you | "[Y/N], you're delusional. be for real." - your friend

- whenever you had money saved up, you would always use it to go to their concerts

- yeah people called you irresponsible with your money but who cares? all you needed was to see them again!

- floyd and the rest of the group basically inspired you to start singing as well!

- you never admitted it, but your music was heavily inspired by brozone so that’s kinda how it got the attention of your favorite member!

- being a star wasn’t easy, but it was definitely worth it seeing people’s faces light up every time you would sing or just having fans who loved you in general

- one of those fans being floyd (👀)

- that’s basically how you guys met

- he got special permission to go back stage and you almost fainted seeing him this close to you and ACTUALLY talking to YOU!

- a few months after that, you guys started dating and you couldn’t be any happier (beat that, *friend*)

- he was literally the best boyfriend ever

- he always has a gift ready for you and treats you so preciously

- goes all out on special occasions like your birthday, anniversary, etc

- he found your whole floyd collection of merch, cds, posters in your room and he likes to bring it up any chance he gets

- “remember that collection i foun-” “anyways.”

- he was always your #1 supporter and always at your concerts

- once, you decided to do a little something special at your concert

You just finished your last song and the crowd erupted with cheers and screams. Everyone thought that your show was over when they saw you walk out, waving and blowing kisses towards everyone until someone on the speaker came on. “Give it up one more time for [Y/N]! Don’t leave yet though! They have prepared one last thing for you!”

You suddenly come out with a completely different outfit, and everyone in the crowd started cheering again. Floyd, being one of the people in the front, was simply admiring the beauty in front of him, taking polaroid pictures of you that he would definitely add into your shared scrapbook.

You grabbed the microphone and moved it up so it would be at your mouth level. “I just want to say thank you for all the love and appreciation you guys have given me these past few months. It means to w world to me. Now, I’m going to be dedicating these three songs to the most special person in my life.”

You smile, as you make eye contact with your lover, who wipes a tear away from his eye and gives you a warm smile in return.

The music starts playing and you tap your foot to the beat. Floyd furrowed his eyebrows and nodded his head to the beat, getting a familiar vibe from it. ‘This sounds so familiar, but I can’t put my finger on what it reminds me of’ he thinks to himself.

You then start singing, letting the melody take over and losing yourself in the music. It finally clicked. “Wait! I RECOGNIZE THAT SONG! THEY’RE SINGING MY SONG!” He yells out, “fangirling” by jumping up and down realizing that you covered one of his songs.

When the song ended, the crowd started cheering for more, which you gladly obliged and started singing old brozone songs, to which people were freaking out with excitement. Their favorite artist singing songs from their favorite band? Oh yeah, that’s perfection. You can’t even phantom how much happiness Floyd was filled with.

After the concert, you met up with your boyfriend backstage and he came running to you with his arms wide open, his eyes closed, and with a big smile on his face. “[Y/N]! You did so good out there, my love! I really enjoyed the songs that you chose, it really warmed my heart." He wrapped his arms around you and spun you around. “Thank you, babe! I’m glad you liked it, all I had in my mind during those songs were you.” You say, as you softly put your hands on his face, admiring his features.

He give you a big dorky smile and a big loving kiss on your cheek and then on your lips. “I love you so much, *nickname*”

“And I love you more.”

note: omg guys the floyd brainrot is getting out of control i wanna throw him around like a ping pong ball he’s so cute 😮‍💨 also hopefully you liked this and enjoyed it !!

@USHYS content - Do Not Copy.

[your-favblondie]

'*•.¸♡ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬♡¸.•*'

(This is one of my first times writing in the past few years and my first time writing in this way so please give me any criticism and any tips you guys may have!! Now on to the story :3)

Word Count: 625

Thank you to everyone who participated in the poll. Our winner was everyone's favorite emo, Choso!! I hope you enjoy the story and if you did leave a like or a comment down below!

Choso is soo sweet but also soooo sooo inexperienced in his relationships.

He probably has only dated one or two people before you if you aren't his first relationship.

He texts like a Victorian gentleman, uses no slang, and has perfect punctuation.

"Hello Sweetheart, I hope this message finds you well. Tell me how your day has been? Love, Choso"

His room is like a teenager's room, with posters and little collections of his favorite things, and on a shelf above his desk, he has pictures of you and his brothers, plus any gifts you've ever given him! (super sentimental) Has a matching couple's bracelets sitting on his desk for you two. ( Shhh he's gonna surprise you)

He's a very clean person! ( no dust shall cover his room) The type to always offer to help with dishes if he eats at another person's house.

Gives you little flowers he found and if you're going on a trip and he won't see you for a while he'll dry some flowers inside a book and give them to you! (he'd also do this on the regular for you and make bookmarks for you if you're an avid reader)

his love language is def gift-giving and touch!! holds your pinky with his, lets you hold onto his arm when you're out in public, and holds you from behind while you're talking with other people.

When he's sick he'll try and hide it because he feels like getting sick makes him weak and useless. ( Once you realize this you'll have to persuade him to let you take care of him. )

At the start of the relationship, I'd feel like he wouldn't be very into PDA mostly because he isn't all too used to it and hasn't been exposed to other couples doing PDA in front of him. But after a few years, it'll be the exact opposite problem will cling to you like a koala bear. Hugs from behind, sweet neck kisses, arm hung loosely around your waist, etc... He can't be away from his darling for too long or he might die!!

uses dramatization for humor, it started off as his version of trying to be sarcastic after you explained to him sarcasm. But he didn't quite catch on...

" Be careful Choso!" you called out to him as he pushed off to the ice skating rink. Recently the icey weather has made it possible to open up a skating rink so you and Choso decided to go and give it a try. Choso says he's great at skating since he and his brothers skated all the time at their non-ice skating rink. You tried to explain to him that they weren't exactly the same but didn't have the heart to break his confidence. Now you rush to put your skate on as your boyfriend waits patiently, well about as patient as a puppy, for you to join him. " let's go," he says holding your hand gently as you both step onto the rink, and for a second you think he might be okay. For a second only though... CRASH Now you stare at your boyfriend whose face planted right onto the ice and was still lying on the rink not being able to get up. as he keeps slipping back down your laughter only grows, you reach your hand out to him to help him steady himself, "I think you may be the greatest skater I've ever seen hunny" You tease. As he rises his face is full of confusion and he turns to look at you. "Baby I think to be a good skater you have to be able to stand?" He corrects you. "I'm being sarcastic chos- " "What is sarcastic?"

now every time he sucks at something he quickly jokes that he is the absolute best at it

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. I plan on continuing writing when I have the chance so please leave suggestions in the comments down below! I would greatly appreciate it! I may even do an NSFW ver. of Choso headcannons.