#he's been on my brain all day i'm trying to squeeze some of this stuff out

[letorip]

kiss with a fist [iii]

"your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you can't help but feel like maybe you and tara are more than frenemies, and it culminates in a night where you finally share some truths with each other.

warnings: a somewhat traumatic dream sequence lmao, mentions of sex, kissing (almost), curse words, blood

word count: 5.8k

A/N: hope y'all like this one because i definitely liked writing it. definitely a whole lot more kissing than fisting.... wait a minute....

it's 5 am, my ass is grass. anyways, part 4 relatively soon because woo wee theres still so much to explore in this story i legitimately cant believe my idiot self said it'd be done in 2 parts originally

===+++===

===+++===

"(Y/n)," a voice calls to you, sing-song and sweet as your eyes fade to darkness. It's a gentle woman's whisper, but it manages to hit you like a truck, pulling you down from wherever you came from, and plopping you wherever you've arrived. Or, rather, wherever you've always been. "(Y/n), look, darlin'."

A gust of wind gently strokes over the plane of your cheek, and when you open your eyes, all you can see is rye. On one end, it reaches out towards a sharp cliff, overlooking a lake, with nothing but rocks and the water below. On the other, it runs far up the plains of land in front of you, stopping in front of the white house you know all too well, with its rickety porch and broken tire swing.

You take a few steps forward, as if ready to run right inside, and then before you know it, you're running. Like the world is about to end, like the house is burning down, like you'll never see the place ever again. Foot after foot, you dash towards it, hearing Alisha's piano flit through the front window for the first time in years, and the smell of a pie right along with it. "(Y/n)!" the voice calls again. "Dinner time, kid!"—

But your foot catches on a root, just like it did in your memory, and in an instant, you've fallen down into the rye, with a painful thud, right on your face. You let out a grunt, feeling the dirt on your new, white shirt. The one your mother never let you wear when you were playing outside.

And when you right yourself again, sitting up out of the field, the house isn't any closer than it was before. It sits, perfectly far away, only all that stuff is gone now, and the house looks about as dark as it did the day of Mitchie's funeral.

"(Y/n)!" an excited voice calls from behind you. "Wanna play tag?"

"(Y/n)'s too old for that, Mitchie," another voice chides, and you whip around like Calvin would actually be there to chide him like that. Like he used to. But he isn't. All you can see is the rye. It stands in thick stalks, reaching up to your knees in lush groupings, tall and abundant, strong and growing.

Another voice. "Read me a story?" It's soft and it's a little girl's and it's far away, and you get to your feet and spin in a circle, waiting for her to appear. It seemed to reverberate through your ears, washing through the pathways of your brain before seeping into your heart. It fills it up, and before you know it, you can feel yourself hastily searching for her.

"'Randa?" you called into the open field. "Miranda? You there?" but she continues on like she didn't hear you.

"Would you read me a story? Please?"

"I will Miranda, but where are you?" you called back, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the barrel of the hot sun.

"I'm gone, (Y/n). You're supposed to be gone too," she says back, with a sweet giggle. "Why aren't you gone with us?"

"I—" you stammer, whipping your head around the field in search of your siblings. "I don't—"

"Do you really think that's fair, (Y/n)?" Calvin asks.

"Why aren't you here, (Y/n)?" Miranda asks again, this time her voice wavering like she was about to cry. "Why aren't you in the rye with us?" Your hands came up to your head, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and block out the noises, but they seemed to reverberate into your skull.

"Mitchie was your fault, you know," Peter chides. "We would've never let that—"

"—Why did you get to stay, (Y/n)?" Came Tomas' voice. "We're supposed to be cursed, and you're supposed to be cursed too." He was always the quiet one, but now his voice had a sharp edge to it. One of jealousy. One of anger.

"Why didn't you catch me?" Mitchie asked. "If you just would've caught me..."

"Come play piano with me, I'll teach you," said Alisha, in her light, airy laugh.

"Why did it get to be you?" snarled Calvin. "And why are you getting closer to Tara? You want to curse her, too?"

"Stop—" you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

"Wanna play hopscotch?" said Mitchie.

"Do you miss us, (Y/n)?" Alisha said, in between tears.

"Yes, of course— I—" you tried, but now the voices were filling up your head, threatening to spill over and knocking you to the ground. You curled up into a ball as your brain filled up. Words piling up on top of words, piling up on top of words, about to split you open. "STOP!" you yelled.

And everything went silent. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself still in the field, but your siblings' voices had gone entirely. Now it was just you, in the field, alone with the rustling of the wind and the rye, as it grazed gently against your legs. You hadn't remembered standing up, but you were now.

In a flash, you could see a shape, running through the rye in a line that was very visible from where you were. You recognised the dark hair, and the yellow jacket he always wore. With the realisation came the looming dread, and you realised with very little time left what this exactly was a memory of.

You took off running, faster than you had to the house, faster than you had ever run, and faster than you had run then, chasing after him as he took off towards the cliff-end of your rye field. "Mitchie!" you yelled, trying to be louder than the buzzing cicadas, but it seemed the moment you yelled, the cicadas got even louder. He was too short to see over the stalks, but you could see him go, running in odd shapes as he got nearer and nearer to the cliffs edge.

"Catch me if you can, (Y/n)!" he called back with a gleeful laugh.

"(Y/n), grab your brother," called your mother. She didn't seem too worried, and she hadn't been, then. No one had been, until it was too late.

"Mitchie! Stop!" you cried out, feeling tears already beginning to fall down your cheeks. "Mitchie!" you tried again.

"Come on, you've gotta be faster than that if you're gonna be it!” Mitchie called back. "Catch me! Get me! C'mon! I'm gonna make it hard for you to win, Duck."

"MITCHIE! PLEASE!" you screamed, but all he did was giggle. “STOP! DON’T GO!” But the moment you reached the end of the rye, he was gone over the edge, just he had been when you were 13, and there was an arm shaking you awake.

===+++===

"Oh my god, you're about the least peaceful sleeper I've literally ever seen," Tara laughed, grinning at you from over her textbook. She had it pulled into her lap from her side of the table and titled against the table edge, and spread out in front of you were her papers galore, with notes scribbled all over them in preparation for her upcoming exam.

Mindy sat next to her, playing a stupid game on her phone, while Ethan was also studying in his own textbook. He had stopped trying to avoid you as much, as had Chad. You and Tara "dating" seemed to offend them less and less the longer it went on.

"Uh," you mumbled, still feeling a little bit disoriented from the dream. It was like a dose of adrenaline had been shot directly into your heart, and you struggled to adjust to the calm, peaceful library that actually was around you. "Shut up," you grumbled, but not like you were actually upset by her teasing.

Tara watched you with her eyebrows raised. "You look tired."

You sat up in your chair, running a hand through your hair. There was a small layer of sweat on your forehead. "Aren't you never supposed to say that to someone? Pretty sure that's how you get someone at the bar to throw their drink in your face."

"It is," Ethan nodded. "I made that mistake once. I was trying to be sweet."

"Good thing I'm not seducing you, then," Tara shrugged. "You've seen me puke everywhere. Pretty sure that ruined my chances right-out, and yet you love me anyways."

You grinned, leaning back to stretch out your arms. It was meant to be a gentle teasing from Tara, but you had only gotten better and better at deflecting the longer you were around her. "You'd be surprised, actually. That was super pretty. That was the prettiest you've ever been." Mindy snorted next to Tara.

Tara glared at you, unappreciatively. "And you're pretty when you do not speak."

"I'm pretty all the time, Tara," you mockingly shook your head. "And you think I'm joking. Find yourself a girl who looks nice covered in sweat, with her hair going everywhere, and puking in the toilet. That's my girlfriend."

"You're such a dick," Tara scoffed, but you could tell part of her was stifling a laugh. It was funny to her too, and you both had laughed at it together for days, afterwards.

If anything, it had gotten easier and easier, to act like the both of you were actually dating. You weren't too sure why, maybe Tara had become less annoying, or you had become less annoyed by her, but you had definitely at least become a better actor. That's what it was, after all. "Oh, also," she continued.

"Yeah?"

"Someone tried to call your phone, while you were sleeping. I think it was your dad."

You frowned. "You didn't pick up, right?"

"No," Tara said, shaking her head. Then she paused. She dropped her voice to speak just to you, guarding the conversation from Mindy and Ethan. "Do you and him not get along?"

You shrugged. "Eh. He was probably just checking in. We have a fine relationship." It wasn't true but it was an easy lie, that rolled off the tongue like nothing. He had already called twice, that day, and you knew why.

"Seriously, though," she said with a frown, looking up from her book. "You look fucking horrifying—"

"—Thanks," you said, flatly.

"—I mean, even more than normal, it's crazy—"

"—Thanks," you repeated.

"—Have you not been sleeping, or something?"

You shrugged. "I mean, I'm an architecture major, and it's midterms... so not really."

"Hm."

"What?" you asked, propping your head up on your arm. "What's the 'hm' for?"

She shrugged, trying to turn back to her textbook. "Hm, nothing."

You furrowed your eyebrows down at her. "Well, obviously the 'hm' was something, Tara." Mindy shot you a look again.

"Or it was just a hm."

“Would you two shush,” she said to you, rolling her eyes. “You bicker like an old married couple.” But you both ignored her.

"It's never just a 'hm.'"

"I say hm all the time. It's literally just a hm."

"No, it means you've got something to say but don't want to say it."

She frowned at the accusation but was obviously even more displeased that you were correct. "I was gonna suggest we go to the OBK party tonight, but maybe you should just go home and sleep. I was trying to be nice.”

You shrugged. "I won't be doing either, actually." Tonight was not the night for parties. You were somewhat grateful, that you had a legitimate excuse to busy your time, or else you would've spent even longer thinking about the dream. "I have to do homework. My final is due tomorrow."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you. "Wait, but I thought classes ended today."

You shook your head. "Nope. I've still got some stuff do."

"Oh," Tara frowned.

"Not all of us can have easy majors," you teased, trying to lighten the mood away from what was clearly concern.

"Hey! You chose the stupid thing," Tara shot back. "Not my fault I chose something fun." She stood up, gathering her things into a neat stack. The time was nearing for her midterm exam, and you stood up with her, grabbing her textbook to be helpful.

"Thanks," she said, then she wandered over and held out her hand. You grabbed it in yours, lacing your fingers together, just like you had practiced together.

The library was a tall building on the far side of campus from where you lived. It was a trek and a half to get there, which is partially why you had been a little annoyed, when Tara said she needed to go there. It ended up being the perfect place to fall asleep in, with the quiet signs and only a few murmurs now and again, and though it had been a less than peaceful dream, it was more than you had been getting for the past few days.

"I don't see why you can't just go without me," you shrugged, adjusting her book in your hands. "Just tell Sam I'll meet you there. Besides, Chad and Mindy are going to the same party, right?"

"Yeah, but I what if they realise you're not actually there and mention it to Sam, or something? And, I'd have to go there alone, since Chad and Mindy are going early."

"They are?"

"Yeah. Helping with set up. Mindy literally just mentioned that. Shows how much you listen to her.” She shook her head in a mocking disappointment in you.

“I was asleep, jerk.”

“I know,” she said, grinning.

You looked down to her, where she walked next to you, gently swinging your joint hands back and forth. "It's not a far walk to OBK. You could probably make it there in five minutes. It's well-lit, and—"

Tara frowned, shaking her head adamantly. "Not alone. Not without you, no way. Sam would want to see you at the door to pick me up. She'd probably hate the idea of it."

"Fair enough," you shrugged. "Find a movie at home tonight, then. Relax, or something. I'd kill to be done with this stupid project."

"What are you even making?" Tara groaned, breaking your hands to shove hers into her pockets. Actually, it was your jacket, and therefore technically your pockets too, but she had taken a liking to it, after your date. You had been less than pleased, when she asked to borrow it, considering how much the jacket meant to you, but she insisted it was assisting her to keep up the act. You figured you could part with it, at least for a little while.

"Architecture," you said with a thick layer of sarcasm. Tara rolled her eyes at you. She nudged you, and you couldn't help but laugh as her elbow pointed into your side.

"Oh, you think you're funny, huh?"

"I'm hilarious."

"You wish..." she scoffed, shaking her head.

It was a beautiful day in autumn, and the weather was soon to leave the sigh of brown leaves and rainy days and move into whispery winds and icy pavement. You didn't mind winter, but you didn't like the chills, even though it was undoubtedly what gave summer's warmth a certain sweetness. Still, nothing burned like the cold.

You walked her all the way to the door of the exam hall, stopping out front to hand her the textbook you had been carrying. You went to speak, but the moment you tried to open your mouth, your phone started ringing. You grabbed it from your pocket, sighing and declining the call, while Tara stared at you.

"Is that your dad, again?"

"No," you said. "Telemarketer."

"Right..." she said, frowning. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am I?" you challenged. You were, it was true.

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

“I just don’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m asking why, (Y/n).”

"Why don't you leave it alone?" you shot, in frustration. You could see Tara's eyes narrow at your tone, and you felt a bit bad. There was the occasional reflex still, to bite each other's heads off. You weren't sure what it was about her, but something about Tara Carpenter always seemed to rile you up inside, and do the same for her with you.

"Sorry," you said, looking down at your shoes. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be an asshole," Tara glared.

"Right... I'm... sorry."

Tara sighed. "I guess I'll see you next week?" She asked.

You nodded. "There'll be plenty of time after this, I just need to get this thing done."

"Okay," she nodded, failing to hide her excitement. Tara seemed to really love parties, the more and more she went to, and you were somewhat glad you could help her find something she enjoyed. It was nice to see, not that you'd ever say that to her. Doing that would absolutely result in her teasing you again, or something even more annoying.

"Good luck on your test," you said.

"Good luck on your project, babe," she said, drawing the name out.

“Now who’s hilarious,” you said with an eye roll. Tara winked at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Me.”

===+++===

It seemed you were having no good luck on it whatsoever, actually. Laid out in front of you was all of your materials, in a messy pile of cut-out pieces and foam boards that were there, sure, but not likely to just jump together and put itself together on its own.

The clock had already ticked away to 12:33 in the morning, and your design was barely finalised to where you could get to work and finish quickly. All of the other students had left at a much more reasonable hour, and it left you standing at your table alone, quietly working to classical music in the empty modelling lab.

At this rate, you could be here for another two or three hours, and the project was due at eight. You were sluggish, slowly working through the plans you had set out days ago and working through the kinks.

Every few minutes, when you stopped for even a second, the dream seemed to rush back to the forefront of your brain. Your mother had been the one to call, that evening while you were eating a poor excuse of a dinner, and you had declined that call just like you had declined all the rest.

You were hunched over your work, probably unhealthily so, with your face buried in your iPad, hastily throwing out sketches of the various shapes. You were settling on a design that would have to do, heading for the woodcutter, when you heard a noise.

It resembled a door shutting, and you froze right where you were. "Greg?" you called out. There was no one else in the building except for you and Greg, at his usual security post, and you waited with bated breath for him to return your call.

But there was no response, and all you could hear was the sounds of classical music gently floating in the background. Usually, it set you at ease while you worked through whatever you were doing in the lab, but now all it did was raise your heart rate to match the increasing tempo. It was completely dark, except for the overhead light above you, which illuminated the table you were working at and a few of the stainless steel cabinets that held tools and supplies.

Then, off to the side, you heard a rolling. An odd, wooden rolling, slowly drifting towards you. On the ground was a pencil, gently pushed towards you, playfully rolling as if perfectly in front of your toes. You hopped to your feet. "Hello?" you called, squinting in the dim light, in case anyone else was there. "Is anyone there?" you called out again. "Greg?"

Now you could really feel the thumping of your heart. The modelling lab had always been creepy late at night, but this was a new level of unease. It was as if someone was watching you, playing with their food, and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "Is someone there?" you said to the rest of the room.

"Hey!" said a voice, and you jumped what felt like five feet into the air.

"Fuck!" you shouted, spinning around and seeing Tara behind you. She jumped at your reaction, raising her hands up. In one of them was a tray with two coffees on it. “You scared me!”

"Woah, woah, are you okay?" she asked, face etched with concern. She walked towards you slowly, and you put your hands on the edge of the table, trying to calm yourself.

"Don't just sneak up on me like that, dude," you glared at her.

"I literally didn't, I fucking announced myself, loud as can be," Tara said, rolling her eyes at you. Then, it melded into concern. "How long have you been here?" she asked, looking around the place and its emptiness.

"Since I left you at your test," you shrugged. "How'd it go by the way?" Tara's eyebrows furrowed, ignoring your question instead for one of her own.

"Did you at least eat dinner, or something?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"Good."

“Yeah…,” you trailed off, turning back to your work. “How did you know where I was?"

“I asked Chad. He’s still a little snippy with me about, well, thinking we're together. Tried to tell me that if anyone would know, it would be me, and I said, yeah, that’s true, but it’s only been three months, now.”

“Well,” you said, gesturing around to the lab. “This is the modelling lab.” You were a bit of a nerd about the whole place, showing it off like it was your cool superhero lair.

“I know,” Tara mocked. “I saw it on the giant sign above the front door.”

“Ha ha. Does Sam know that you’re here?” You asked, grabbing your pen and resuming your work while you continued to talk to Tara. She plopped herself down on the edge of the table, letting her feet swing.

She looked a bit sheepish at the question. “Uh… no.”

“You know she’ll kill me like she did that one time, if you’re not home when she wakes up,” you frowned, wandering over to the supplies and grabbing out a box cutter to help trim the pieces you needed.

Tara nodded. “I know. But I snuck out, so I’ll sneak back in.”

You turned back around to reply, maybe say something stupid, but you had to stop yourself from laughing, when you saw her legs hanging off the counter and not reaching the ground.

“What?” Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and returning to the table. “…Dwarf.”

“Hey!” she said, smacking you on the arm. “I brought you coffee, don’t make me take it back.”

“That’s true,” you frowned, weighing your options. “Guess I can’t make fun of you; you brought me caffeine.”

“That’s more like it."

You worked in silence for a few minutes, feeling Tara watch your every movement. It was harder to work, under her scrutiny, but you were grateful that she was there. It wasn’t lonely in there, any more. A few months ago, you would’ve hated her guts for sitting around while you attempted to work. But not with Tara anymore. Not on that day.

“This might be an all-nighter,” you warned, sending her a small smile as you sliced a piece of foam in half and went to work to attach it to your board.

“Fine with me,” Tara shrugged. She just continued to watch you, in a calm silence. “Actually, I have beef with you,” she hummed.

You laughed, looking up while you secured the base with glue. “Why’s that, Tara?”

“You got that song, stuck in my head.”

“Which one?” You asked.

“The one you sang for me. I found it online.”

“Which one?” you teased, smiling again. Your face was tired and the smile certainly didn’t help, but you couldn’t help the newfound peace washing over you again. You had completely forgotten the weird happening from earlier.

“You know, don’t play dumb.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I really don’t know.”

“You literally do,” Tara scoffed.

“Sing a little bit. Refresh my memory.”

“Nuh uh,” she said, crossing her arms. “This is a trap.”

“It isn’t,” you insisted, sticking your pinky out to her. “Swear.”

She wrapped it in her own, rolling her eyes. She definitely knew it was, but she obliged anyway. “If you need a friend, don’t look to a strangerrr. You know in the end,” her voice broke on the low note like yours did, and you laughed while heat rose to her cheeks. “I’ll always be thereeee.”

“And when you’re in doubt,” you sang back to her, in between laughs. “And when you’re in dangerrr.” You both were tone deaf and the rendition was awful, but the mood in the lab was getting lighter and lighter the longer you were together.

“Take a look all around,” Tara sang, coming back in. “And I’ll be there.”

It was impossible not to laugh at how bad it was on both sides, and you grinned at her toothily, before turning back to your work. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome, idiot,” she teased, nudging you in the side again.

===+++===

You went back to working on your model, finishing the first floor in about an hour. You and Tara occasionally talked now and again, but mostly she just watched you while you worked. “Why are you doing this all tonight?” she asked.

“Uh…” you stuttered. “I didn’t have time the past couple weeks…cause of… well, you.”

She shot up to her feet, mouth dropping open. “Why the hell didn’t you say no to me?! I didn’t know you had all this to do.”

You shrugged. “I never mentioned it. Plus, you were having fun. I’m glad someone was enjoying themselves.”

“Oh…” she said, and it sounded small.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“…Nothing."

“It’s fine, Tar. Seriously.” She blinked at you.

“Tar?” she asked, looking amused.

You looked up from your work, feeling the change in the atmosphere. “What?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just never used the nickname for me, before.”

“Yeah, I guess not. Is it weird?”

“Well… no. I kind of like it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding a little. “My mom was the one who gave me the nickname Tar. Haven’t spoken to her in a little while, though.”

“Do you still miss her?” you asked, glueing your second story onto the base successfully.

“Sometimes…” she trailed off, staring out at the pitch black night through the window that hung over your workspace. "She calls me once in a while."

"Do you answer?" you asked.

"No," she admitted. "It's usually about Woodsboro. I gave up on her a few months ago, but she still calls sometimes about the town."

"You never talk about it..." you comment, trailing off with a hand on the back of your neck. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." You leaned back against the table with a curiosity, watching her face move as she struggled to answer.

"Well... it's cause I don't want to that I don't talk about it. You know how people say that shit about manifesting happiness?" you nodded, knowing what she was talking about. "Well, I keep saying I'm fine, and I'm moving on, but it just keeps following me everywhere. It's like this chronic cough I can't shake. This constant thing. No matter how much I run, it's always there. People don't see me as anything but one of the survivors."

You swallowed, feeling her words hit you. "I know what you mean." Tara's eyes snapped down to yours, but when you didn't volunteer more information, she sighed.

You frowned, turning yourself back to your work and hunching over, so she wouldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks. “I, uh… I listened to that song you said you liked, too.”

“You did?” she asked, lighting up at the mention of it.

“Yeah… added it to my playlist… so…”

“So…” Tara laughed, amused by your awkwardness. It was somehow less awkward when you hated each other. The fact you could tolerate each other now was unusual but not unpleasant, and you still found yourself grappling with how pretty Tara’s eyes looked in lamplight. "If I get a nickname, you absolutely have to have one too."

You scoffed. "That's not at all what that means."

"You had to have had one at some point."

"No, I haven't had one," you said.

"Liar!" Tara said with a giggle, pointing at you with her finger. "You're so bad at lying it's remarkable. Now spill. What is it?"

"I'm not lying!" you insisted, but now you were laughing and it was even less convincing.

"C'mon, promise I won't say it in public— unless it's really bad."

You stared at her for a moment, when she clasped her hands together in a begging plea.

"Please?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Pleaseeee?"

"Fine," you sighed. "My family, they used to call me Duck."

"Duck?" She asked, leaning back to look at you as if the nickname would re-contextualise your entire appearance. "Where'd that come from?"

"It's dumb. I used to wear this yellow raincoat when it was storming outside and these orange booties, so my little brother Mitchie saw me, when he was like five or six, and said I was a Duck. And so I was Duck."

She smiled at you, genuinely pleased with the explanation. "That's adorable. Where is Mitchie, tonight?"

You opened your mouth but shut it. Then, you opened it again. "Probably watching cartoons, or something. Back in Nebraska." (A/N: my ass genuinely did not know that was a U.S. state until right now)

You couldn't tell her that today was the day he had died, several years ago. That a year or two before that had happened, Calvin had gone, and a few months before that, Tomas and Alisha had passed too. That Peter had gotten sick, or that Miranda had gone missing before any of that mess had happened. That you were the only one left.

It was a bad lie, and probably one you would regret later, but it was one you ushered past, and Tara didn't seem to pick up on. From one cursed person to another, you figured it was probably best that you keep your own curse to yourself. It's part of what had made you hate Tara so much at first. She walked around knowing her days were likely numbered, so carefree and careless. And then there was you, you who was so careful in order to keep living.

But you couldn't resent her for that. It had melted away with seeing the Tara underneath. The real, beautiful Tara underneath.

"Duck is good, though. I'll bring it out when I want to embarrass you," Tara smiled, inching closer on the table.

"Yeah?" you grinned back at her, standing up to gently tap against the glue. It was set, and your model was finally finished at 4:42 in the morning. Tara leaned close, watching the glue with her own eyes, cheek almost up against yours in curiosity.

You finished the thing, looking over at her and her large, warm brown eyes, staring at the model you had made with so much curiosity and genuine interest. Tara hadn't lifted a finger to help, but you couldn't help but feel like it was partially hers.

You went to pull back but found your face turning towards hers, looking at each other for a long moment. Your eyes lingered on the slope of her nose, down to the curvature of her soft lips, turned up in the corners like Tara always did when she smiled. They looked so soft, and before you knew what was happening, you could feel Tara's hands coming up to the sides of your face, thumbs gently stroking against the skin there.

You couldn't breathe, feeling the warmth of the pads of her fingers on your face and the faint brush of her breath upon your nose. "Tara," you whispered. The pull was magnetic, and just as you were about to say to hell with it all, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, and you both leapt apart from each other.

You wandered a few feet away, trying to seem busy while she answered it. You could feel Tara watching you while she spoke on the phone, so you did your best to hide the blush that was certainly spread wide across your cheeks.

This was the very girl you had spent the past several months hating. You suddenly felt dizzy, like the world would slip out from under your feet. Tara, the very same annoying girl who had pestered with you and bickered with you. The one who had so much more to her that what you had ever thought possible. The one who drew you in. The one in search of a hook up, for which you were only the decoy. You cleared your throat, whipping around when you heard Tara say "What?!"

"What's wrong?" you asked. "What's going on?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at you like she was about to cry. "They're questioning Sam again. They think Ghostface is back."

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN anyways my ass is going to bed now. also i do not recommend anyone lie to someone they're interested in about who they are, ESPECIALLY an attempted murder victim

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side

part 2 is out! part 3! part 4!

whaddya know, i already have my first piece of writing that's not for an rp. it's a mess, but that's okay, because i admit i have no clue what i'm doing! i welcome all feedback as long as it's not just plain mean. when i asked for writing ideas, i was suggested to try my spin on the twst bully!au, and so i present: reader/yuu is done with their bs. no beta we die like my sleep schedule. genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, slight yandere that hasn't escalated yet word count:896

You’d had enough, thank you very much. The constant jeers, “misplaced” textbooks, and shoves in the hallway were only the beginning. Before long, you were beaten and bruised, and all for what? Just because you didn’t have magic? According to your research, the majority of the population here didn’t either! But alas, such was your plight. The professors turned a blind eye, and Crowley couldn’t care less.

So, when someone “accidentally” dislocated your shoulder during PE, you decided enough was enough. The students you’d never bothered to learn the names of were one thing; you were going to call your former friends out on their bullshit. Despite Grim’s protests, you dragged him all the way back to Ramshackle the moment you had a break in between classes. Why that timing? Because the model student prefect would never cut class, of course!

You locked the door not once, not twice, but three times, thanks to the padlocks you’d had placed on your stuff in the past. Then you took your time creating the Junk Tower. Your materials were all the scraps people had thrown in your yard in the past. You had quite the collection. The windows? They’d been boarded for years, according to the ghosts. Back door? Kalim had it removed. Something about first years sneaking in. You figure it’s better not to ask how he managed to have a door seamlessly replaced with walls in one afternoon.

About twenty minutes after the last class of the day ended, you had your first knock on the door. “Oi, prefect, open up!” Ace demanded. Because of course it was Ace. He was the first student you met here, so it was only fitting that he’d be the first to know you weren’t fucking around anymore. You ignored him.

The knocking stopped “Oi Ace, maybe they’re not home?” Deuce, ever the voice of reason, pondered. You weren’t sure whether to love or hate him. He’d stop others from picking on you, sure, but the moment you disobeyed him, he went back to his old delinquent ways.

“Well, they weren’t in class, and there’s no way my prefect’s with someone else, so they’ve gotta be inside!” Ace insisted. His prefect? Since when were you his? Did Ace eat something funny while you were gone? Because the last you checked, he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

Deuce’s voice dropped an octave, or maybe two. You weren’t too sure how that applied to speaking voices. “Oi, Ace, what the fuck do you mean your prefect? They don’t belong to you!” Yes, thank you for the reality check. Deuce must’ve had the brain cell today. “Obviously I’m way closer to them than you are!”

Scratch that. Deuce did not have the brain cell today. Really though, what was with them? Why in the world were they fighting over who was closer to you when all they’d done lately was make it clear how much they hated you? Oh, wait. They thought you could hear them. This must be some sort of trick. Trey and Cater must’ve put them up to it, since they were far too dumb to think of anything this elaborate on their own. You decided to ignore everything they said from here on out.

All was well, until Adeuce simultaneously let out an ungodly screech. Now that was troublesome. What could possibly scare those two like that? Surely nothing good for you. With luck, it’d be Riddle come to behead them for not wearing fluorescent pink or some other dumb rule, but you wouldn’t bet on it.

You soon had your answer. “Ne, where’s Shrimpy? I wanna squeeze ‘em!” Suddenly you didn’t blame those two for being scared. Floyd Leech in a bad mood was always a force to be reckoned with. You could never tell if he was in a good or bad mood when he was “squeezing” you, and quite frankly, you’d rather not know. The sick fucker probably took pleasure in hearing your bones pop and crack under the extreme pressure.

“Floyd-senpai! The prefect is, uh, we’re not actually sure where they are,” Ace volunteered. You almost pitied him, having to put up with the more rambunctious Leech during basketball practice. Almost.

“Hah? What do you mean you don’t know? Crabby is always crowding around Shrimpy like a little parasite,” Floyd whined. Um, what? Is Floyd in on the joke too? Is the whole school conspiring against you? You wouldn’t put it past them.

A cloud of dust blew up from the floor where you swung your foot back and forth, making you sneeze. You froze. Did they hear that? Wait, what were you acting so scared for? What were they gonna do anyway, break the door down and hit you? All within your expectations when you’d formed this plan. The point was to prove that you wouldn’t just sit and take it anymore. You’d seen all their dirty little secrets, especially during the Overblots; you could hit them where it hurt if you felt like it. No one would ever think the perfect little prefect would tell someone else what they’d confided in them! So when Floyd broke the door down with a display of monstrous strength, you were prepared. You greeted them with a smile. “Ne, you guys,” you began, “would you believe me if I told you I’m done with your bullshit?”

[ddejavvu]

Eddie, your boyfriend, and you discussing having a threesome at some point. And then he offers you a threesome with Chrissy. You get confused like does Eddie wanna sleep with Chrissy? I just thought they were friends? But then he explains babe, Chrissy wants to sleep with YOU. She, like, is always telling him how pretty you are

You were only eager to explore the idea of a threesome with Eddie until he had a name already locked and loaded for your third party. You thought you'd scout a bar together, or rope one of your friends' friends into a one-time test that would determine whether 'the more the merrier' applied to sex. But when Eddie responds to your initial proposal with a quick nod, and a, 'Chrissy?' you start rethinking your offer.

"Uh," You flounder, stomach starting to churn, "I guess- maybe? I thought you two were just friends."

"We are," He nods, still absent-minded until his brain catches up with him. Then he's dropping his pen onto the scribbled doodle he'd been sketching, looking up at you with wide eyes pooled with understanding.

"Wait, wait, wait, not like that." He reaches for your hands, and you hear him out with dread still pooling in your stomach.

"We are just friends," He assures you, pretty brown eyes dripping with sincerity behind his long lashes, "But she likes you. She talks about you all the time. At first she was just, like, asking me how you were doing when she saw me and stuff. But then she came to my van to pick something up," He clears his throat, politely leaving the name of whatever drugs she was buying out of your conversation, "-and out of the corner of my eye I saw her slip something into her pocket. I only realized later, when you couldn't find it, that it was your lip gloss that you keep in the cupholder. And when I saw her again she was wearing it, now it's the only thing she wears."

You mull the information over a bit, deep in thought. Then, in a quiet voice, "That doesn't mean she wants to have sex with me, Eddie."

"That's... not all of it." He admits, raising a hand to scratch at his hair, "I tried to be casual about it. I said the stuff she was wearing looked like yours. And she got all red, started talking about how pretty the color was. I was starting to get a little suspicious, but I really couldn't tell if she was after me or you, y'know?"

You nod, and he squeezes your hands tighter.

"Then the next time I sold stuff to her, she asked about you again. I teased her a bit, asked if she just wanted to come over and see you. She heated up again, started smoothing out her skirt and messing with her shirt, asking if I meant 'right now?'. That's when I figured it out."

"I kinda elbowed her, y'know?" Eddie mimics the gesture, rocking his body to one side, "And I said 'Holy shit, you've got a thing for my girlfriend!'.

--

"No!" Chrissy stammers, shaking her head so that her ponytail bounces, "No, Eddie, that's- I would never do that to you!"

I don't blame you," Eddie shrugs, a smug smirk on his face, "I've got a thing for her too."

"I think she's really pretty." Chrissy admits, eyes wide and glued to her feet, "But that's- she's your girlfriend! And I know it's not fair, I- I'm really sorry, Eddie."

"Really," He laughs, knocking his shoulder into hers, "It's fine. I know you won't try anything. Hell, you're so sweet you'd pr'y come crying to me feeling guilty before you'd even made a move. You are not a cheater, I know that."

--

"Thing is," Eddie picks away a smear of nail polish that's stuck in the crease of your finger, "Now that I know, she won't shut up about you. She just talks and talks and talks, all day long, about how pretty she thinks you are, how lucky I am, and I don't really disagree."

"That's.. crazy." You shake your head, not because you're upset, but because you're surprised. You've interacted with the girl before, and she's been almost unbearably sweet, but you hadn't thought anything of it. You'd heard only good things about her, so you just assumed her saccharine demeanor was the default. You have to say, thinking about the starry-eyed girl having a puppy crush on you is making your heart beat just a bit faster.

"Well, all I'm saying is, she's a willing candidate. We'd have to break our 'no kissing' rule, though," Eddie grins, "I think she wants to give back some of that lip gloss she snatched."

[darylbae]

I LOVE YOUR DARYL ONESHOTSSS AAHHHHH

i wanna request another vampire Daryl x fem reader pretty pleaseee

I would write this myself but I do not trust my writing skills LOL. A basic summary would be a lone reader who kinda just travels around, and one night when seeking shelter from a thunderstorm she finds this guy named Daryl, barely alive, and nurses him back to health (as much as she can by feeding him rabbit and meat barely cooked per his request), before realizing that Daryl is a vampire but couldn't really care less ("There's dead people walking around and you think a guy sucking blood and being deathly allergic to garlic will astonish me?").

Maybe for some backstory the reader is looking for their dad (or something like that) who got taken by raiders, so she's traveling around trying to find him and killing anyone who gets in her way, so by the end Daryl and the reader make a deal that Daryl will help her, and she just has to provide the corpses.

Ofc, don't feel obligated to write this, I'm sure you get so many requests anyway 😭😭 Again, love your fics!

sweet thing — daryl dixon

in which you meet you make a deal with vamp!daryl, hoping to benefit each other

note: i hope this is what you wanted anon, and u are too kind! i am so grateful for every lovely comment i get, it really keeps me motivated to write.

The rain was pricking at your cold skin, eyes almost closed to keep the droplets from invading your sight, and there wasn't an end in sight. You had to find him. Your dad, the only familiar sight left in this damned world, was gone. You'd sat around a fire one night, sharing a can of beans, giggling about another guess the song game you'd been playing. Then you'd woken up, and he was gone. You knew he'd been taken, it wasn't hard to realize, his stuff still surrounded you as you cried into his jacket that morning. There had been raiders on your trail for a while, it was actually a group you'd split away from a while ago. Looking to drag you back in. Why hadn't they taken you too? You wondered every day since, all thoughts leading to you feeling too useless to anyone. So now you wander, hoping to find a lead to get you back on track to finding your dad again. You'd spotted a metal panel propped between two trees, it had almost resembled a hut, and it seemed the only shelter for miles. It'll do for tonight.

You'd lost count of the days now, it all consisted of walking, stopping to eat and drink, kill walkers. Still in the same God forsaken woods that you lost your dad in. The raiders typically stayed in wooded areas, easier to conceal themselves, which was proving to be true. Leaning against the coarse bark of the tree beside you, you'd sighed deeply and readjusted the gun on your hip. Another stolen prize from the raiders which had helped you immensely in escaping. It was time to search for a place to stay. It had started raining again, however much worse than it had last time. Thunder was booming around you, the rain quick to soak your clothes and your hair becoming stuck to your skin. In the distance you could see a shed, or what looked like a small house. Your brain had squeezed onto the hope of shelter, picking up the pace as you broke free of the woods. It was, in fact, a small home. A bungalow of sorts, good enough for you for a few nights. It didn't seem occupied, but you were still cautious, so you'd equipped your blade and held it up as you breached the door. It was worn down, seemingly vacant since outbreak. But in the corner, by a fireplace, you had spotted a shadow. A moving shadow. You hadn't thought it through, you just rushed over to the person, in hopes it would have been your dad. It wasn't. But it was a man, who seemed to be on Death's door. Wheezing in and out, shivering as his coat laid over his body, ghastly pale. You'd thrown your bag off your shoulder, ripping it open to find your makeshift First Aid kit. "Hey, you still awake over there?" You asked, incredibly surprised at your confidence around a stranger. A wounded stranger. He grumbled, giving you enough confirmation to keep administering First Aid. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch."

Turns out he'd been stabbed, too weak to patch himself up. These were all just guesses, as he'd remained silent in the corner ever since you'd gotten here. However, he stayed. Even as you went out to find some dry firewood, after the rain had stopped, he was still sprawled out in the corner of the room. You'd started a fire, and sat comfortably in front of it as you let your food cook and clothes dry. "Do you have a name?" You asked, glancing over to the man. He met your eyes for one second, pulling them away from yours in the next. He remained quiet. "If we're going to inhabit the same home for a while then the least I expect is some information." You spoke, stabbing the bits of rabbit with a stick on your improvised grill made of wire and clothing hangers. "Daryl." He mumbled, taking the coat down from his face and sitting up. It was nice to see more of his face now, and strands of his hair stuck on his face. His voice was smoky, gruff, kinda hot. You hadn't thought about someone like that since before the world ended. It had just been you and your dad, except for the group of raiders you'd abandoned. You smiled into the fire, happy you were making progress. "Want some rabbit?" You offered, waving the end of the stick over at him with a cooked chunk of rabbit meat. He shook his head. "I'll find my own food." "Come on," you huffed, "eat some damn food. You need it if you want to heal." "I like it rare." "How rare?" You asked, ready to chuck some more on the grill. "Not touched the fire kinda rare." You grimaced, gesturing towards the cut up meat on the floor next to you. He leaned forward, wincing as he held his stitches, and stole a few pieces for himself. It didn't satisfy him like you probably would, but this was unbeknownst to you, he had to sit in the corner and control himself. You'd been nice enough to keep him alive, so he owed you that much. "So why do you eat raw meat? Won't you get sick from that?" You questioned, done with your food for the night and just using the fire for warmth. He shook his head. Guess that was too far. Silence lay heavily on the pair of you, Daryl too interested in a crack on the wall, and you watching the flames dance in front of you. It was you making all the conversation, so you had assumed that was it for the night. You'd climbed onto the couch, laying as comfortably as you could, and closing your eyes, hoping to have a dreamless night. "Ya won't believe me. You'll run." You heard, and you'd sat up, facing Daryl who was now sat up, arms resting on his knees with his head dipped down slightly. "Why?" You asked. "Why would I run?" Daryl paused. He didn't want to be alone again. As new as you were to his life, he liked company above all else. Even if you were pushy. "I prefer humans." "You're a cannibal?" You shivered, sat up properly now, ready to make a run for it. "NO." Daryl answered, "well, kinda." "Vampire?" You asked. Judging by his silence, you were right. And it shocked you how... normal you were about it. "Okay." You laid back down, clothes still damp and uncomfortable. But sleep was catching up quick. "Ya ain't gonna run?" He asked, and there was a hint of innocence you could hear. Like a child that had been walked out on one too many times. "No," you answered, still laid down but eyes open and looking at him, "the world has ended, the dead are alive, and you think a guy sucking blood and being deathly allergic to garlic will astonish me?" "Myth." You smiled, happy to close your eyes again. "You gonna suck my blood?" He wanted to, so bad. He wanted to taste that sweet blood pumping around that pretty body. "No. Don't wanna hurt ya." Your heart quickened, and you were embarrassed how much of an effect this stranger was having on you. You needed some action. Bad.

The fire was out when you'd woken up, and the man in the corner, Daryl, was gone. You lifted your head, noticing the coat that had once covered him, was now covering you. Your cheeks tinged pink at the sentiment, as you'd sat up fully now, still keeping the coat nicely snug around you. He hadn't left, surely? You'd made your way outside, the heavy thud of your boots alerting him of your presence, as you'd found him on the porch smoking. "So you can still smoke, huh?" You asked, sitting down next to him and observing his demeanor. Even the way he moved was hot. "Same as you are, just different diet." "Guess that answers my question of how you're in the sunlight." You giggled, and you could almost see a smirk threatening to show on his face. "Want your coat back?" "Nah," he croaked, mid-inhale, "looks better on ya." You couldn't quite believe your life had come to flirting with a vampire in the apocalypse. "Going somewhere?" He asked, and he was a lot more talkative than yesterday. You shook your head. "All I've done is wander the woods for God only knows how long, I plan on staying for a while." Daryl knew it was a topic for another night. So he stayed silent. "Gonna find some dinner. Stay inside." He instructed, standing up and stubbing the end of his smoke. You nodded your head at him, planning on making this home a bit more homely.

Daryl had been gone a while, and you'd cleaned up the place a bit. Making it look not-so-run-down. And you'd even found a book, to accompany you as you waited on dinner. He'd returned back after sunset, having been gone all day. And you were becoming ravenously hungry. "Took you a while." You commented, slamming the book closed and getting up to get the fire lit. "Yeah, sorry," he grumbled, "see ya kept ya'self busy." He looked around at the space you were sharing, seeing it didn't look nearly as bad as it did when he found it. You had only just looked up at him, seeing a sleeveless shirt and being more interested in that than the deer slung around his neck. His toned arms, patches of blood and debris from hunting all day, it was enough to drive you mad. "Hey," he clicked at you, and you felt shameful, "eyes are up here." He joked, and you smiled awkwardly at him. "Ready to eat?"

You'd eaten a good amount of meat, both of you now sharing the couch. Shoulders touching, thighs touching, your heart was beating loudly in your ears. "What's got ya out here?" He asked, his gruff voice sending goosebumps up your arms. But the question was something you didn't know if you were ready to share the answer to. But Daryl could help, he could get you closer to him. Finding your dad again was all that matters. "It's been me and my dad for the longest time. We'd met up with a group of raiders a while ago, who did things we just weren't okay with, so we up and left in the middle of the night." You sighed, heart aching for your dad and wherever he was. "They've been hunting us since. And we settled down one night, and when I woke up, he was gone. Taken. I've been trying to find him ever since." Daryl's hand found your thigh, and you almost jumped at the contact. "I'm sorry." He offered his condolences, and the feeling of his hand on your leg was starting to catch fire. "Not your fault, unless you were a raider." You turned to him, and he shook his head, that smirk appearing once more. "What's your plan next?" "I'm not sure, I just needed shelter for a few nights so I could conjure a plan, until I found you." You admitted, a sweet smile upon your lips and you looked at him. Friendships tended to form a lot faster in the apocalypse, but you weren't sure what this was. Daryl was silent for a moment. "You given up?" "No. Never." "Well let's look for him, together." He suggested. "I'll rip through that whole group if I have to." "You'd help me?" You asked in disbelief. "I like ya company," he confessed, like a dirty truth, "wanna keep ya around. Gotta help each other out." You were beaming on the inside, if this wasn't confirmation of a friendship, then you didn't know what was. "What do I do for you?" Daryl looked at you, your sweet, innocent features, eyes full of curiosity and hope. You'd seen things, but you were truly broken yet. "Help me find bodies, people, not worthy of life, and I'll help ya find ya dad." He demanded, but his voice was low. You found yourselves inching closer together, and Daryl's thumb delicately dragged over your cheekbone. "Sweet thing. I'll help ya."

[sister-of-hitoshi]

Begging on my hands and knees for a Warumono san x small chubby reader who has body image issues PLEASE- like he doesn't understand why humans feel so saddened about their bodies sometimes, or why they think skinny people look so attractive???((I'm going off the idea that for his alien culture, it's very much akin to Sparta types of likes and stuff, ie: everyone wants to be the strongest in order to serve their planet and help.))

To my lovely anon, this is my first ever ask!!! Thank you so much for having faith in me with your request (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠) I hope it's alright ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Sending loads of love your way<33

...You love me more??!!

Genre: Slight angst, fluff

Character: Warumono-san/Mr villain

Warnings: Body image issues ahead! Please love yourself <33

It was a regular day-off date at a nice cafe.

A regular day of admiring this tall and handsome man who had taken pity on your state a few days back and started to temporarily date with you.

Yes.....That's what you explained to yourself. There could be no other explanation.

It was just another day.

Another regular day of self-loathing.

You were never happy about yourself. At your home, you had even put some translucent sheets over your big wardrobe mirror as some sort of barricade which deterred you from seeing your full figure. You didn't care if you couldn't properly see which dress was more flattering on you, it was better than seeing your ugly, unflattering self. Yes...ugly.... unflattering...

"...There's no way that this hot guy would actually be in love with me." You muttered to yourself absent-mindedly, the other half of your brain busy admiring his sharp feautures. You were never going to believe that he was actually in love with you. You knew your place.

But what you didn't know was the extent of Mr hot guy's love for you.

For he was even willing to choose you over his lovely pandas.

Even though it had only been a little while, he became so open to you about almost everything- well everything except for his job and identity which were classified information. You were so soft to hug, just the right size for him to squeeze his chest when patting your head or booping your nose. You were just way too adorable. So much so that imagining you in a panda onesie was enough to make him cough up whatever food he was having at that moment and roll on the ground back at his home.

Right now at this quaint little cafe, as both of you were lost in thought about the other, you didn't fail to notice how his face suddenly became all serious as he scrunched up his brows.

Well it looks like even he's disgusted now.

He was about to say something when you beat him to it.

"I'll excuse myself to the washroom."

You didn't wait for his response and hurried away.

"Of course", you said to yourself. "Of fucking course."

You loved him so much, you were so scared that he was actually going to bring up his disinterest in you at the table, so you excused yourself first.

Your fist slammed beside the sink.

A coward. That's what you were.

"I knew it from the start... that's why I didn't try to love him too much but...what can I do when he's so good with me?..." You bit your lip hard, the air felt nauseous. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Why did he have to be so attractive and kind..."

It seems even your tears were mocking you, for they were fat, full of the weight of your misery.

"I hate myself, and I love him, and I hate that he has to date such a miserable looking person like myself"

With tears rolling down your cheeks and you using your hand to wipe your face to no avail, you turned around to leave the washroom and fetch some tissue papers from the dispenser. Seems like you couldn't even wipe off these ugly tears.

But before you could even comprehend it, you were swiftly hugged by strong, large arms.

"Y/n....what happened?"

A man with his familiar deep, soothing voice, voiced out his worry. This made you cry harder.

Mr villain felt akward, he didn't know how to comfort his favourite earthling who was crying like this infront of him, so he did what he thought calmed him the most when he was feeling stressed. He hugged you and patted your head.

"Oh it's nothing....But it's okay if you want to stop now....I know we are together only temporarily and I know too that...you don't really like this ugly unflattering thing that is me-"

"Y/n what are you saying?" He shook you by the shoulders. This was one of those very rare times when he was swiftly losing his composure. But he knew that he needed to comfort you right now. You are his top priority.

"You're my favourite. I love you..........even more than I love pandas"

Wait- wait what?

"No no- wait- pandas are your favourite, even a kid who sees you for the first time will get it... And you're telling me you love me more??!!"

You fake-gasped and started laughing a bit, finding it really absurd but more unbelievable.

He was glad that your tears that stopped now, and that he had internally taken snapshots of your face and saved them to his memory. He means- you looked so adorable even when crying. His poor heart could only take so much.

Deciding now was the best time, he confronted you.

"I heard everything Y/n."

His deep voice ran through your being, making you shiver. Your immediately became tensed. He noticed this. He only held you tighter.

"I really love you a lot, and I love hugging you too. Why would the way your body looks really affect my love? I love you for who you are"

You immediately looked up at him, and the sincerity in his eyes was enough to break all the bars of negativity that were caging you in.

"I appreciate that you like me too, so please accept that I love you, both you and your body, and I want you to love yourself the way I love you" He continued to look at you through his bangs, until he suddenly turned away from you.

"Iloveyourcuteness"

"Hmm? What was that? Can you please repeat it?" You were trying to lighten up the situation now, so you playfully pleaded him with those big doe eyes that always made him kneel and pull on his bangs even he even thought about them.

"I love your cuteness... you're adorable. The perfect size for me to hug and p-perfect for a kiss-"

You brought him down by the shoulders and kissed him on the nose.

He became so blushy, his eyes became glossy, he was so awkward and genuine, your love for him grew tenfold, while his for you grew manifold.

It seems that everything that you had claimed to know about your situation was entirely wrong. But this was a wrong that felt right.

___________________________________________

"So why were you scrunching up your brows at me and making a serious face back then? I thought I had offended you...haha, sorry if that's the case though" you said, looking at him bashfully while scratching your cheek.

"You don't need to be sorry, it was just me trying to imagine you with a panda costume...sort of"

"Oh."

The response did little to conceal your vibrant blush. You internally screamed and kicked your feet, he was soooo cute being all mumbly and blushy, you'd definitely make it a point to surprise him with it later, heheh!

Well looks like you'll have to say 'bye-bye' to those sheets now.

[miupow]

Omg, guess who Lia???

These days cockwarming with jjun thoughts are so on my mind, Lia... I mean just imagine how he'd just not move within you, and test if you like dirty talking, to see what stuff from his filthy mouth makes you clench, or actually some other teasing like touching and playing with your tits and nipples, or your clit but not moving in you is the best torment he can give you, when you're dripping so much and he feels so warm...

"jjun p-please," your small pleas are dead to him from the moment he actually stuffed his fat cock in you, the stretch even so pleasurable, all the thoughts in mind abandoning your conscience where all you see is to beg, but Yeonjun's not listening to his princess tonight as he stills your moments from gripping thighs hard and tight, restricting any friction/stimulation you try to get by squirming or moving yourself ever so slightly, but that's better than nothing, or so you thought, the feel of having him stay still in your warm heat, your core embracing his length, and actually squeezing him as tight as you can sometimes, oh Yeonjun really did enjoy that and deep inside as tormenting it is with the exciting butterflies dancing in your stomanch, you liked it when you shouldn't have. "you want me to fuck but you aren't letting me, baby. if you clench s-so tightly, I might break when I move, so what's it then? Fuck or.. this..?" damn cunning fox. He knows why he isn't moving, watching you fall apart from slightest stimulation by him, absolutely watch you go nuts for his slightest acts of service, he is so obsessed for interested in such a side of yours as his smirk does not falter a little, if anything, it only curves more. "What's wrong baby, cock not enough? What does my pretty slut want? I can see her losing her mind, just by cock huh, isnt it baby?" fuck, you weren't supposed to moan and clench at that. Yeonjun's eyebrows arch a little and he notices your sudden clench at his words, how your hands actually arch themselves along your back but he isn't fucking you, is he? "jjun please, do something." At this point, Yeonjun's lost count of how much you have said 'jjun please's to him tonight, but he just has begun. "Exactly, what do I do baby, when you're clenching at me and not letting me fuck, come one baby, slut up and say it." no. Not again you shouldn't clench but you do, why is he so lewd with his words that makes you wanna clench at him, is he having a control on your body? Oh yes he does but this. Fuck that laugh he lets out, as he grabs yours and cages them in his one hand and caresses your thighs, laying pressing and soothing touches as he reaches your inner thighs near your cunt, filled with his cock, the sight so fucking lewd to see, as his eyeballs curve into crescents and he smiles so heartily, his princess is perfectly sized for his cock, dripping exactly as he desires, "fuck... could you look at this, how dirty, you love my cock so much huh? Look at how well you've taken it all and yet dripping, clenching at my praises, ah, see that's exactly what I mean... f-fuck that's my slut." He is so lewdly articulate with his words, having you drip like taht, but he isn't getting enough, when you're trembling at his cock, him absorbing every tremor that your cunt exudes, your sweating face and your desperate face, just like he wants. "jjun, f-fuck me please." He shifts his gaze at you, with a pouty face that he makes, as he looks down at you pity, he tsks so much as he speaks so mockingly, "well, baby... no." As he teases your clit and gets you to squeeze him more, uh oh. It's so good, I want more. She is so perfect.

IS THIS NOULLI i am so sorry i've been sitting on this for ages gatekeeping this little drabble i almost wanted to keep it for myself it's so good but others have got to see it... i'm losing my mind i'm gonna be so embarrassed if this isn't noulli omg

i've been on such a yeonjun brainrot era this is wild and darksided and evil!!! my brain rn omg

[idyllcy]

the blue of your eyes, the blue of the sky

word count: 3.3k

warnings: hurt/comfort

summary: all the colors in the world couldn't compare to the blue of his eyes

You wonder some days how things ended up this way.

The setting sun paints your skin a colorful gold, a golden color you can't see, a golden color that your supposed soulmate says looks gorgeous. The sky is supposedly red, red bleeding into pink which then mixes into purple, a hundred colors that the average human eye can detect. Colors that you can't see no matter how hard you try. You met your soulmate, you did, but you can't see color in the same way he can. The only reason you know he's your soulmate is because years ago when the two of you had just met, you saw the most brilliant color in the world. The crashing of ocean waves, the dazzling baby blue of the sky, the blue on your soulmate's vigilante suit, the mesmerizing cerulean of his eyes.

You locked eyes with Nightwing, saw the most dazzling color of your life, and then as fast as it had come, it disappeared, your footing loose, falling off the same roof you had met your soulmate.

Something about your visual cortex had been damaged from the fall, rendering you unable to see the other colors, even after meeting your soulmate. Something else about how Broca's area made it so that you would slower speaking, speak less, less words, words easier. Essentially, your ability was back to that of a seven-year-old. The words are there, but they would come out slower than on average. You didn't care. Your brain still worked. You were more bothered about your vision.

The only color you knew was blue.

The blue of that one moment when you got to see your soulmate's eyes.

Two hours after you woke up, a man had rushed in, gorgeous blue eyes, reaching for your hand, his heart stuttering.

"I'm sorry." He had gotten on his knees, crying. "I'm sorry," He repeated, whimpering it, the same word repeated over and over again, tears dribbling down his face, and you looked at him. He had the same eyes as your soulmate. Nightwing, was it? You sat there in the bed, letting him cry, no words finding their way past your lips, unsure of what to say. What do you say? It's alright? It's okay? I don't mind that I lost my ability to see color because of you? You had just stared in silence, only blinking lightly outside the window when he had stopped apologizing, glancing longingly at the blue that was fading out of the sky.

"What color is that?" You squeeze the hand in yours, pointing at the sky, the fading dark blue.

"Purple." He mumbles. "That's purple."

"Does the sky turn purple at night?"

"It turns dark blue." Dick whispers. "It's purple because the sun is setting."

"What color is the sun?"

"At this hour, red." He mumbles, eyes bloodshot. You notice the streaks in his eye, blinking slowly.

"What color are the streaks in your eye?" You whisper.

"Red."

"Do your eyes turn red after crying?" Your voice matches his.

"Yes." Dick closes his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." You whisper.

Dick takes you home, your place, to pack up. Soulmates were expected to live together. It didn't matter if the two of you didn't know each other. It was the norm, and his place was better than yours, so it didn't matter. You packed your stuff, and Dick told you he'd take care of your furniture, asking which pieces you wanted to keep. "It doesn't matter. Keep the packaged boxes in the storage." You couldn't see any of their colors anyway, but those photos meant something to you, even if the only thing you could see was blue.

"Do you want a separate room?" Dick smiles apologetically, and you stare at his dog, crouching down to pet her. The grey in her hair has streaks of blue, so she looks very much faded to you.

"What's her name?"

"Haley." He smiles. "Bitewing too."

You scratch her stomach as she rolls over, and you blink at Dick.

"She has streaks of blue in her fur."

"That's good." Dick smiles. "is she blue?"

"A very faded shade of blue, but blue nonetheless." You whisper, gentle smile on your face. "A blueish grey."

Most colors look grey to you. You stare at the computer, splotches of grey all over it, reaching to press the buttons on the screen, taking the color picker, learning the colors based on the RBG of it all. You drag the mouse across the screen, almost as if you were intrigued by the other colors. Dick finds you on his computer, mouse dragged at a certain point, mumbling quietly, trying to memorize what shade of grey of the colors that weren't blue.

"What... color is this?" You point at the color on your screen, no traces of blue visible at all.

"The lighter one," Dick points. "Is yellow. The darker one is red."

You go back to scribbling on the page, colored pencils splayed out on the table. A thousand words on a sheet of paper, Dick finds. He can't cook for you, but he's worried you'll hurt yourself while cooking, so the two of you are stuck with takeout. You don't complain, asking him for the color of the shrine on the Chinese takeout box.

"That's red too."

"Brighter than the one on the screen?"

"Yeah."

You slip a piece of orange chicken to Haley, going back to your own food.

"Is there blue food?"

"Artificially dyed." He smiles at you sadly.

"Don't look at me like that." You frown. "I'm only asking you because I can't see the other colors."

"I know." He can't stop the guilt from crawling up his throat and eating him alive.

You turn to look outside the window again. "I want to travel."

Dick blinks at you. "To where?"

"Everywhere." You mumble.

You long for a freedom that Dick can't give you. He knows it, yet he returns home in the early hours of the morning, staring at your sleeping form in the bed, curled up next to your phone, Santorini and the Aegean sea on it, the clean waters of the Blue Lagoon, the Great Barrier Reef, all the blues in the world in your hand, a fascination with the ocean visible from your glowing screen in the early hours of the morning. He tucks himself into bed next to you, arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing just a little harder than usual, almost as if scared to lose you.

But you never bring up traveling again, almost as if you had realized you would never get to go. Your soulmate was in Blüdhaven, you were born and raised in Blüdhaven, the rest of your life would be here in Blüdhaven. You had no future in a place you had never visited before. You would be stuck in a city of red (as Dick had told you) and you would be stuck with the bricks and old architecture in the city. Your fingers would brush the bricks as white would come off of it, power on your fingers. The city was not where you belonged. It was evident in the way you spent so much of your time on the internet, longing for a place where you could see color on buildings.

"Go." Dick mumbles one night, blinking slowly as he focuses on the way your phone screen lights your face.

"Hm?"

"Go." Dick repeats himself, more sure this time. "Find yourself in the cities of blue."

"Are you sure?"

Dick wraps his arms around you tighter, burying his face into your chest.

"Go." He whispers, like a quiet prayer to you. "I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes."

Dick sends you off with a card of his and a kiss on your forehead, promising to wait, promising to send you messages and updates. You smile at him, something more genuine on your face, your lips pulled upward, excitement all over your body. There's something else on your skin, something sweeter, something prettier. You look like you're ready to leave, and Dick won't be the one to hold you back.

"How long will it take?" He mumbles, forehead pressed to yours.

"I will tell you." You smile.

And as with all things, Dick lets go.

Dick busies himself with rebuilding Blüdhaven as you busy yourself with the cities of blue, taking polaroids and noting down cities, gluing them into scrapbooks, scribbling little notes to yourself and Dick, texting him updates on your life. You wanted to ask him where he got the money, really, but just from the fact that you had never worried about where to stay or when to leave, you were thankful. You collect blue trinkets, taking notes on your phone as to why that one specifically, smile on your lips when you find ones that remind you of Dick's eyes. You missed them no matter how gorgeous the cities you lived in were.

"Hey." You hum, pressing speaker on your phone as you settle into the bathtub.

"Hey." Dick hums. "Where are you now?"

"I'm in Santorini." You hum.

"Did you go to Iceland already?"

"Yeah." You yawn.

"Where to next?"

"Wanted to see Istanbul." You hum. "Oh, and then I wanted to see Palestine."

"That's quite a jump." Dick mumbles, placing Haley's bowl down. "Anywhere between that?"

"Thought about Tibet, and then I wanted to see Japan."

"Isn't it cold there?"

"Yeah, but their skies are super clear. Oh, and then after Japan I was thinking about Hawaii."

"Are you going to the Maldives?"

"Maybe next time." You mumble. "Oh, and Cancun too. I also found out Havana's buildings are bustling with color, so I'll definitely stop there before I head back to Blüdhaven."

"Is it fun?"

"Hey, how are you funding my travels?"

"I was left two billion dollars by my father's butler. He didn't have children, so my father and I were the closest thing to children he had."

"Ah." You mumble. "What kind of a man was he?"

"He was..." Dick smiles gently, telling you about Alfred, about all the times he had been raised and taken care of, memories spilling past his lips from his heart, forgetting about time. You hum along, listening, staring out the window, the ocean at your fingertips. You reach for the blue, closing your eyes as you imagine what Dick's eyes look like, chest warm, heart fluttering.

Your name spilling past his lips causes you to come back.

"Hm?"

"What about you? You send photos, but you never tell me anything."

"I miss your eyes." You hum. "The blue of your eyes."

"Yeah? Can't find them anywhere?"

"No." You breathe. "I miss your eyes." You exhale again.

"I miss your eyes too."

"Yeah? What about them?"

"The way the stars reflect in them when you stare at me when I get back from patrol," Dick mumbles. "The way they hold hundreds of stories behind them, your entire history and heritage, the laughter behind your eyes when you're about to smile. I miss the reflection of a thousand souls in your eyes."

You laugh. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Dick hums. "So enjoy your trip and find all the colors of the world and then return, will you?"

"What color's the grass again?" You glance at the plant next to your bathtub, a new color appeared.

"Green."

"I found a color back." You grin, the green registering in your vision. "Green."

"The color of Jason's eyes, the color of grass, the color of..."

"The color of the palm trees." You smile. "Thank you, Dick."

"Anything for you."

You stare at the grass, wind blowing in your hair, blinking slowly at the color. You wonder what's green in Blüdhaven. Was it the grass in the park where Alfred's statue was put up? Was it the reflection on some of the windows when you passed by? You wonder if you could see more colors in Blüdhaven now. Maybe you'd be able to stop at Metropolis before heading back. Maybe you'd get to see the brilliant red on Superman's diamond when you return. You start buying green trinkets when you arrive in Istanbul, bread tucked between your arms, capable of telling which parts were actually moldy and which parts just had raisins. You bite into the breadstick, entering the airbnb you stayed at.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket.

"Hey," You pull your water bottle from your tote bag.

"I heard you're in Turkey." Dick hums. "Well, not heard. You sent a picture."

"Yeah. What color is the building? It's starting to register." You hum, biting into the bread again. "It's also... in the bread?"

"The building was yellow." Dick hums.

"The color of dandelions." You mumble. "The color of dandelions, the color of the sun in the sky, and the undertone of some people's skin."

"Yes. The color of gold, the color of the chip brand you love so much, and the color of the lemon Lipton tea bags." Dick continues.

"Huh." You mumble. "Is it the other color that makes up green on the color wheel?"

"Yes."

"And the color of the S on Superman's diamond?"

"Yeah." Dick chuckles. "It was also the color of my cape when I was Robin."

You click on your phone, pulling up a photo. "Oh! It is."

"Yeah."

"Also the color of the bat on Batman's logo."

"Yes."

"And Duke's suit?"

"Yeah." Dick laughs.

"Yellow is mostly commonly..." You mumble. "associated with happiness?"

"To most, yes."

"How about to you?"

Dick laughs, color of your eyes spilling past his lips, smile in his voice. You can hear it in the way he speaks. You smile yourself, biting into the bread again, humming. The city starts turning off through the window, your gaze following the street lights.

"Are the street lights yellow too?"

"Yes." Dick hums. "So are lanterns."

"Can you take me to see fireflies when I return?" You turn off the lights in your room.

"Yeah."

"Thank you."

The yellow of the sun is much brighter, and the gold on top of the Dome of the Rock is breathtaking. You take a photo, sending it to Dick, noticing the blue and white on the bottom, staring in awe. The tour guide tells you to stay a distance away from it, but you stand in front of it, eyes on the gold of the dome, blinking slowly. You buy a keychain to remember it.

The rocks across the dead sea register slowly in your vision, the color unfamiliar to you. You're too shy to ask one of the other tourists what color it is, texting Dick instead, a photo of the rock. You float in the sea for the rest of the afternoon, sand in your fingers as you wait for Dick to call you. One of the other tourists convinces you to smear the sand on your face, creating a makeshift mask.

You finish showering in your hotel, noticing the missed call from Dick.

"Hey—"

"Orange." Dick cuts you off. "The color was orange."

"Like the fruit?" You raise a brow.

"Yeah." Dick laughs.

You purse your lips. "What are some orange things?"

"The fruit, a lot of flowers," Dick pauses. "The color of a sunset, goldfish, carrots."

"Is Babs' hair orange?"

"Yes, but it's referred to as red hair."

You frown. "So she's a redhead but her hair's actually orange?"

"Yeah."

You purse your lips. "Are pumpkins orange?"

"Orange is kind of a fall color." He hums. "You'll get to see it while traveling."

"I thought fall was more of an American thing?" You raise a brow, closing the light to the bathroom.

"It is, but it's equally gorgeous in other countries. Which country's next?"

"Tibet, then Japan." You hum. "Anything you want from there?"

"I'd like for you to come home quicker." Dick jests, laughing lightly.

"You should retire and come join me." You sit on the bed, kicking off your slippers. "I'm sleeping. Night, Dick."

"Night, sweetheart."

The mountains are gorgeous, colorful flags flying in the air when you visit, the head of the shrine a color that reminds you all too much of orange. You ask one of the locals what color it is, the young girl pressing an envelope into your hands, whispering a word into your ear, the same word rolling off your tongue, the girl smiling. You're dragged around her, shown a couple more places, the new color learned in Tibetan, your cheeks flushed the same color after running around so much. You return to your hotel, fingers on your keyboard, texting Dick.

He video calls you.

"Hey."

"I learned a new color." The Tibetan word rolls off your tongue, and Dick blinks at you in confusion. "I think it's red."

"The color that looks like orange?"

"A little." You grin. "Is it red?"

"Yes."

"Red is." You pause. "Red Hood's helmet?"

"Yes. Red is also the color of blood, the color—"

"Like when your eyes were red from crying." You breathe.

"Yes. That too."

You look outside your window at the rooftops. "Is red the color of roses?"

"Red roses."

You hum. "Can you bring one for me when you come pick me up?"

"Of course, darling."

"Oh, and," You grin. "I'd like a rainbow rose, so I can tell you all the colors I learned."

"Of course." Dick laughs. "Now get to bed. It's late."

"Very late." You grumble. "Night."

"Night."

The last color you learn is purple. It materializes as you stare at the wisteria of Japan, visiting the garden, staring at the flowers as you blink slowly. Purple. It's the color of Spoiler's suit, now that you think about it. It's the color of wisteria flowers, Spoiler's suit, the color of the sky as the red of the sun bleeds into the blue of the day, and the color of royalty. You buy a wisteria keychain, finally able to see everything in color on your travels. You take a final photo for your scrapbook, clicking on the website to fly straight back to Blüdhaven. You wonder if you should tell Dick about purple.

"Any new colors?" Dick hums into the phone as you yawn.

"No."

"Not purple?"

"Not really." You mumble. "The mix of blue and red, right?"

"Yes."

You blink at the wisteria keychain in hand. "I saw the wisteria flowers, but it was in grey."

"Yeah?"

You bet Dick already knows you can see purple, but neither of you say anything.

"Oh, yeah. I'm flying back next week."

"Already?"

"Yeah." You laugh. "I miss your eyes."

"Just my eyes?"

"Miss you too." You hum, glancing at the moon. "Alright, I'm sleeping."

Dick greets you at the airport by spinning you in the air, lips pressed to your cheek affectionately, adoration spilling past his eyes as he spins you around in one arm. He holds a bouquet of flowers in the other one, only setting you down when you ask for him to, kissing his cheek, grin on your face.

You've changed.

Dick hands you the roses, and you pull him to your height in excitement as you tell him the name of each color, a second language spilling past your lips for some colors. You blink at him expectantly when you finish, and Dick sighs, laughing.

"And the color of my eyes?"

"Blue, obviously." You roll your eyes playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Missed the color of your eyes."

"Yeah?" He rests his forehead on yours.

"Yeah." You grin, staring into his eyes. "Missed that blue."

"What blue is it?"

"Dick blue," You stick your tongue out at him.

"My very own shade? Like the universities?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "My favorite shade of blue."

"God, I love you." Dick whispers back, breathless, heart racing in his ears.

"I love you too." You whisper back. "Thank you for waiting."

"Always."

[littlebitsmile]

in flames [C.L.] | Chapter III

Welcome back! This took me a bit longer than usual, but it's still Sunday, so I'm glad you decided to join me (: Hope you all had a nice first week of 2024 - only 55 more days until we see our munchkins driving in circles again - hope this makes the wait a bit shorter.

As always, have fun (:

story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.

────ʚ C H A P T E R III ɞ────

Music booms from the headphones in my ear, my feet float over the treadmill, drops of sweat run down the sides of my face. Next to me, all I can hear is Max's heavy breathing and the occasional quiet "f*ck" as another intensive interval approaches. My calves gave up the ghost ten minutes ago and have been cramping ever since, but my pride won't let me stop.

I actually wanted to squeeze in an extra training session this morning before Max woke up and wanted to hang out and do some off-season stuff, but unfortunately, he was already at the coffee machine when I decided to roll out of bed. He then followed me into the fitness room of his apartment without any comment.

He has been kind enough to let me stay with him, Kelly, and Penelope for a few years now so that I can avoid living with our parents and even worse, letting them decide what happens next with my accommodation situation. As the eldest son, he has probably had his experiences and learned his lessons, always being the one to take the blows, and although he always pretends to give me a hard time, I'm sure that deep down he doesn't want me to go through the same hell he did. The fact that I can never come close to his golden boy in our father's eyes anyway is a different story.

I breathe heavily but try to concentrate on the view. Monaco's harbor landscape is one of the most beautiful I have ever experienced. A little too much lifestyle of the rich and famous for my liking, but Max loved it here right from the start, when we first visited a few years ago. Maybe because he can live right next to the racetrack, waking up every morning and sipping his breakfast coffee with his brain already imagining those cars on the streets right in front of him.

"You're quiet," he presses out between his lips at some point. I don't look at him but concentrate on a small yacht that is about to leave the outer jetties. He gets a kick out of seeing me suffer, I’m sure of it. If I don’t let myself get distracted by the pain in my legs, I can do a few more minutes on this torture device.

"I'm dying," I reply, trying not to fall down at the same time. My diaphragm starts to painfully remind me that I'm not my 26-year-old racing brother, who has been doing this for years and years, never losing sight of his goals, exceeding his limits.

He reduces the speed on his treadmill and starts to jog slowly before continuing: "When are you flying to England? For simulator runs and so on?"

I'm still running at the same pace as before. I try to show February 15 with my hands, holding all of my ten fingers up, then five and the peace sign as a two, but I'm not sure if he immediately understands what I mean.

In the time between the end of the season and the first pre-season tests, the world stands still in my head. I enjoy visiting friends for once and not feeling bad when I see photos in our group chats of everyone getting together and me missing. Max, on the other hand, never leaves his zone - his racing set up in his study glows for hours every day. When he's not training, eating, or sleeping, he lives and breathes motorsport, whether it’s on or off track. Maybe that's why he's such an exceptional talent. Or maybe he is just stupid, for not living his life during his prime time and will fall into a pit of self-despair when he’s 40.

"Excited?" he interrupts my thoughts. I can’t remember what we were talking about, and he notices. “For the UK, I mean? Rain and cloudy weather?”

I nod. My lungs are burning, and I don't know who exactly I'm trying to prove something to. I keep running, my thighs are starting to burn like hell. A few of my fingertips go numb, and my head starts to feel dizzy. There are a few black dots here and there, but it isn’t the first time something like this happens and it won’t be the last.

"What number are you going to start with?" Max asks. I shrug my shoulders, not wanting to give too much away about whether I'll keep my number from Formula 2 or change it. Mostly because I haven’t thought about it and I would love to have a number with a deeper meaning.

"You could take 69."

When he says this, I almost stumble on the treadmill. I hold on left and right and hop onto the side edges as the mechanical noise belt continues to run beneath me. Although everything inside me hurts like hell after the last hour and a half of running, I must laugh out loud. Max grins sheepishly at me. Sometimes I am not sure who of us is the older sibling.

"I think that would be more your thing, don't you?" Out of breath, I put my hands on my hips and lean my upper body against the treadmill display. I try to calm my heartbeat, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.

"I've already got the 1; that's enough for me..."

“You won’t have it forever, though," I interrupt him before he falls into another monologue of self-congratulation. I wiggle my eyebrows and grin mischievously at him. Then I stick my tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes before hitting me on the shoulder with his fist.

"The only one I'm afraid of is you,” he admits openly. I look at him in disbelief. Where has this recognition suddenly come from? I almost choke on the sip of water I’m taking. “But you're in the wrong car anyway, so at least I don't have much to fear this season.”

"I don't need your false assumptions, Max. We've never lied to each other." I look into the distance, back to the harbor. I wonder what my life would be like if I wasn't the person I am.

"I'm not lying, I promise. I'm more afraid that this team will take you down with them."

"Aston Martin won't drag me into the abyss. They're giving me a fair chance."

"You would have had a fair chance with me and Red Bull."

"Fair, Max? Really? As number two? How well did that turn out with the last team partners? Lewis and Nico? Lewis and Valtteri? You and pretty much everyone who came after Sebastian? The only off-track friends who were in the same team and still get on well are Carlos and Lando. I don't want that for us." Now I turn to him. A furrow forms between his eyebrows, and he looks down at the ground. He knows I am right, and I think that causes him greater pain than what I just said about us not being able to be proper teammates.

"If you don't perform at Aston Martin, if you even get the chance to show what you are capable of in that sh*tbox of a car, then no other team will take you. There is only one chance to be part of this grid, and I just can’t believe you would rather not drive at all than have me as your team partner?" He is frustrated, I can feel it in his voice. So I try to soften my voice and understand him from his point of view.

"Max, I love you; I really do. You're the coolest brother in the world, and I'm not saying that because I get to live in your cool penthouse in the middle of Monaco.” There is a chuckle, and I know he wants to reassure me that he loves to have me here with him. But before he can speak another word, I continue. “But I've been compared to you my whole life and I will continue to be. This hasn’t been easy, for any of us. But for a change, I can decide for myself whether to confront it or if I just leave my phone off and not read the news, because no one in my own team will compare me to you." The conversation has taken on a serious tone, but I know he understands what I mean.

"I get it. I still would have liked you to be the wing woman. Pretty sure we’d be great. With you keeping all those madmen away from me." He winks. Then he looks straight ahead towards the panoramic window. It's quiet between us for a while.

I think back to his first victory with Red Bull. How he threw himself into the arms of his team afterward, so proud and so full of emotion, as if someone was finally accepting him for who he is, no ifs, ands, or buts. He doesn't talk much about his relationship with Christian Horner, but I'm 90% sure that Christian is in many ways the father figure for Max that our father could never be for him. How he has grown with this team and gone from a really misunderstood driver to a three-time world champion. He wouldn't leave Red Bull until they cut him out from inside with a digger and chainsaw and shipped him to the other side of the world. He lives, breathes, and burns for this sport and for the people in his immediate surroundings, a quality that I greatly admire in him and that not everyone is able to appreciate.

"If you could be someone else or do something else, what would it be?" The question catches him off guard. He is confused for a moment, then looks thoughtful and shakes his head.

"I don't think I want to be – can be - anywhere else. This is where I belong."

I believe him. But suddenly I'm not so sure if my answer would be the same.

As the plane lands in London, I grab my backpack, put on my cap, and hide my face a little better. I'm almost certain that some paparazzi is waiting for me in the arrivals hall because I seem to be the only one from the F1 paddock not traveling by a private jet. I wonder why.

I quickly get through security and baggage claim, so it feels like no more than 30 minutes before I step through the airport doors and out into rainy UK weather. To my right, an elderly gentleman with a sign saying "Emma V." walks towards me and takes my luggage. I thank him, get in the car, and then we make our way to the Aston Martin headquarters. I fall asleep unplanned and only wake up when we arrive.

I am overwhelmed by the polished floors, the glass structures of the building, how everything looks as if this is not the headquarters of a Formula 1 team but of Iron Man and the Avengers.

Mike Krack, the team principal, comes to meet me, shakes my hand, and welcomes me to the hallowed halls. I'm then given a tour, starting with the departments I'm least interested in, such as budget and logistics. I know these people are as important as anyone else, but I am a driver, so the technical departments will be my home base.

"But you're certainly not here to look at the view. You want to go to the simulators, right?" Mike states correctly at some point. I nod vigorously. "Then that's our next destination."

And no matter what I was expecting, it wasn’t that. As I step into a room with a screen as big as the panoramic view back at Max’s apartment, I immediately want to leap into the seat in front of it. I wait for a nod of approval from Mike before I hop into it and feel the leather beneath my hands and notice the smell of something new. I shriek. If this is a dream, I never want to wake up. And before someone can stop me, I’m already turning the machine on and getting ready to drive my first laps in the simulator.

────ʚ [Masterlist] [Chapter II] [Chapter IV] ɞ────

[apprenticestanheight]

Work Stress- Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

ALLLLLLL RIGHT, welcome to the monthly "my mental health is shit" fic that I bestow upon the people whenever my mental health isn't as great as it could be, which--in fairness--is nearly all the fucking time.

Two of these might be coming out this month, though! I have not had the greatest streak of days without anxiety lately and I write fics whenever it gets really bad. The day I finished this one, I was like "I am going to write something. for chainshipping (again)" so a chainshipping fic will probably be out by the end of the week

On some other notes, A: while it's not explicitly stated, the reader is what's traditionally considered midsized as that's what I am and I wanted to write a fic with my body type. As per usual with me, the reader is generally gn but as I know the anatomy best, they're AFAB. B: requests are starting to get looked at! I have one waiting to be finished, edited and posted sitting in my drafts but otherwise will have probably looked through and decided which requests I will do vs which ones I won't by the time this has been posted. Things will probably start coming out at the end of this week and keep coming out into next.

Fic type- this jumps into a lot of differing areas, but the main genres are quite possibly the oddest combination I've ever written--smut and angst.

Warnings- as this fic contains smut it caters to an audience of people 18+, so minors, DO NOT INTERACT. There is A LOT here--p in v, oral (both recieve, even if on Adams end the oral is only mentioned), doggy style, fingering, petplay kind of (I was trying to think of a gender neutral petname and puppy was the only thing my brain could think of at first. It's literally just used as a petname and gets overshadowed by 'baby' after a point bc I remembered that that word existed--I wrote a lot of this while tired, pls take some of the stuff in it with a grain of salt), as for sfw warnings: there's a mention of loss of appetite in relation to extreme stress

It's no secret to Adam that you've been having a very, very rough year.

You've been living together since just a couple weeks after he'd escaped the trap--he was taken from his apartment and found it too anxiety inducing to stay there so you let him move into yours.

You'd been dating since you were twenty one and at twenty six, moving in was bound to happen eventually, but getting out of his lease was taking a hell of a lot more time than Adam had originally anticipated.

He noticed every rough day in the bags that you'd begun to sport underneath your eyes, how late you came to bed and your reluctancy to be very affectionate with him--whenever things got bad, be it at work or with stuff going on in your head, you withdrew and pushed him away--and in the fact that you weren't eating as much, in that you always looked like your mind was somewhere else, wandering off completely.

So, one day near the middle of November--where he'd started to notice your bad days in very early March--he joins you in the kitchen while you speak to one of your bosses via phone call.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, grabs your hand, gives it a squeeze. He wants to cheer you up--you're prone to bad days due to insecurity and because of a long-standing not so great track record where your mental health is concerned--and, in that particular moment, finds himself willing to do anything.

You give your best go at grinning back at him, but it comes out looking like more of a grimace. You let Adams hand go to run a stressed hand through your hair, returning your hand to Adams and letting him interlace your fingers thereafter.

"Yes," you whisper. "I understand that things are always tough in the last quarter, but--" you sigh dejectedly as your boss cuts you off, and Adam presses another kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a minute.

"Yes, Earle--but you're not seeing the point here. I'm eligible for the raise because I've kept the teams afloat! The only reason you're not also eligible for the raise is because you took an eight month vacation with PTO that you quite literally stole from other employees, myself included, and just because Monica isn't willing to fire you over that doesn't mean your actions didn't warrant alternative punishments," you lean forward, press a kiss to Adams shoulder. Adams grin widens slightly as he notices that you're visibly relaxing from his touches.

A solid two minutes of shouting pass by on the other end. Adam gives your hand a supportive squeeze whenever Earles voice raises another octave in his shouting, pressing kisses against your temple when you let him pull you into a half hug. He keeps hold of your hand when the position changes, your torso pressing against the counter as Adam stands in front of you.

"Earle--I am eligible for the raise because you took six weeks of PTO from me, which I only get thanks to our companies union," You snap. "Now, because I had to spend so much time doing my fucking job, unlike you, I'm eligible for enough of a raise to make me capable of buying a home by '06, and if you're pissed off at me for that, I genuinely cannot help you any further. I have a boyfriend who I would much rather be talking to over your sorry arse, so I'm going to hang up now and if you call me back, I will ignore it. Have the day you deserve, asshat."

You hang up the phone and sigh, gaze meeting Adams in an instant.

"'M sorry," you whisper, biting your top lip for a few seconds as you look at him. "Work has been a fuckin' mess since like, the end of February. I just--damn it all."

"Eh, Earle sounds like a dickhead," Adam laughs. "How does one even get away with--eight full months? Of PTO? How?"

"Per the union agreement we have, we get six weeks a year," you start. "It's why I'm always off in December--I like staying home when it gets cold, gives me an excuse to read and drink more tea than I should--but we've moved to digitizing off time recently. Took the six weeks I'd planned to pace between the end of this month and all of next and switched them up for himself. Did that with five other employees and still, Monica doesn't fire him. Just makes me eligible for a raise of fifteen dollars on company dime because the off time I lost out on forced me to do more while I was there. Our company has one hundred and eighty-six employees in the Jersey branch and a bunch of 'em like taking spaces in the last six months of the year off, so it was me managing two teams of eighty people. Not easy work at all."

Adam blinks. "Did Monica even offer to give you the PTO back?"

"She gave me hers," you shrug. "Earle can have a lot of fuckin' fun managing one hundred and sixty people by himself. I'll find out if I get the raise tomorrow morning and my PTO will kick in then, too. He can eat shit as far as I'm concerned, I have a long list of books and two boxes of my favorite tea to drink my way through as of tomorrow."

You let Adam lead you into your shared bedroom, humming as you lay down on your bed and close your eyes.

"Are you okay?" Adam asks.

"Been a very, very stressful eight months," you laugh. "Trying to think of what I need and only one thing continually comes to mind."

"What's that?" You can hear the eagerness behind the teasing tone in Adams voice.

"I need--uh--" You laugh, suddenly feeling a little awkward. Propositioning Adam for sex was not typically done with words but kisses and your hands on his chest, relishing in the way that he looked when he lead you to your bedroom and fucked you senseless.

"Go on, baby," Adam whispers, his lips suddenly near your ear. "Gonna say it?"

You hum, suddenly embarrassed at yourself, and Adam laughs.

"Use your words, puppy," He whispers, pressing a kiss against your earlobe. "How am I supposed to know what you want me to do if you don't use your words?"

You moan helplessly in response.

"You really are cute," Adam says. "Tough while at work, one phone call later and now you're helpless that you can't even speak. Can't even say one word."

"Adam," you breathe, both because it's the one word that's coming to mind and also because you know he loves the way you say his name when all you want is for him to fuck you.

"Good puppy," Adam presses a kiss to your cheek. "Tell me what you want me to do, mm? I'll do whatever you want, but if you want me to fuck you, know that you'll be in bed for a long time once we go to sleep. You're going to come a lot tonight, puppy. You deserve it."

You moan in response. "Please," you whisper.

"You want me to fuck you, puppy?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Adam--I need you to. Don't wanna think anymore. In eight months, I've thought enough for eight lifetimes. Fuck me senseless, please."

"Whatever you want," Adam says, pulling you into a long kiss that has your head spinning.

You spend the next few minutes like that, in a kiss that's so intense, so loving and so fucking good that you wonder how you've been able to go so long being fine with quick kisses and self gratification.

The first kiss reminds you of how amazing it is to be kissed by Adam whenever the more dominant side of him comes out for a bit of fun, the way that his hands anchor themselves on your hips before one slides up your torso to cup your face, the sureness of his tongue in your mouth--everything feels amazing, and it's almost like it's too good to be true.

And then Adam pulls away for air and your eyes are opening and his lips are against your clothed shoulder, breathing in deeply with a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry we've not been--well--" you start. Adam tilts your chin upward and presses a kiss on the underside of your jaw. "I've been a terrible--"

"I've missed this, sure," Adam says, pressing another kiss against the underside of your jaw. "Yeah. Of course I've missed it, Y/N, but I absolutely understand that you've been busy. Work has kept me busy, too, so I'm just glad we can have tonight. I've missed you so much and I just wanna make you forget about how shitty the past months have been. Wanna make sure the only word you remember how to stay is my name, and that's what I'm going to do tonight, puppy. Sounds good?"

You nod eagerly, which makes Adam laugh as the hand that's on your hip gives it a squeeze.

Your gaze becomes affixed to a random point on the ceiling as Adams kisses rove across the scope of your neck, one hand on your jaw to move your head whenever he wants better access.

After a point, you start to realize that his kisses are getting longer and not too long thereafter you realize that Adam is carefully laying hickeys over your neck and is taking his time with doing it.

You want to murmur a quip, do something to jab at the possessiveness hickeys usually carry, but right as you go to do so his lips and tongue find a home on the pulse point on the right side of your neck and all you can do is moan softly, one hand finding his hair.

"Adam," you whisper. "Fucking hell, Adam--you're going to drive me insane. Please don't stop."

You hear Adams laugh, slow, amused, a little sadistic. "Well, if I'm the one who drives you to insanity, I think that means I'm the one who has to pull you out of it, doesn't it, puppy?"

With the use of that one, silly nickname, you're reduced to what is basically a human shaped puddle, and Adam knows it. Whenever he calls you his puppy in a slightly dominant tone, your knees are at risk of giving out and the look you give him is tantamount to torture if he intends to tease you until you're begging.

"Mhm," you hum, moaning as Adams lips press in a peck against your pulse point. "Also means the same if you put me into subspace with all this foreplay, Adam."

Adam grins, and you let him tilt your chin so that your head turns to meet his gaze.

"Of course," he says. "I'm basically an aftercare god, despite the fact that Scott dunked on me for it while believing a cigarette afterwards is anything less than the bare minimum--I'll take good care of you once the session is done, puppy. I promise."

Your shoulders relax at the reassurance, and you grin as Adams lips press against your forehead.

You nod after a second. "Okay," you say. "I--thank you, for this. Pre-emptively."

Deep enough into subspace and you'll borderline on mute, only able to focus on how Adams ministrations feel. You have no doubt he intends to take you there tonight, so you feel the need to thank him before you slink that far in and have to wait for it to wear off to speak a coherent sentence to him again.

"We both need it, so it's my pleasure," Adam says, starting to undo the buttons of the black long sleeved button up you'd worn to work and had yet to take off that day. "And yours--it's both of us. I promise I'll start getting more dominant in a sec, these buttons hate me."

You laugh a little, helping him undo the rest of the buttons. "They're square. They hate everybody, me included. Getting this shirt on was a nightmare this morning and I've been reminded as to why I never wear the damn thing."

Adam uses the small of your back to guide you off the bed just enough to be able to completely take the shirt off, following it by the oddly quick--Adam is very, very good at undoing the pesky little hooks that hold bras together, oddly--removal of your bra.

His lips are on yours again, one hand on your bare hip while the other finds itself cupping your face, tongue gliding across your lip in asking for entrance which you grant as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

Kissing Adam in moments like that is always amazing--kissing him has been one of your favorite things since your romance started, even quick and chaste kisses that don't last more than a few seconds. Kissing Adam has never ceased to be an absolute delight, whether it led to sex or was used as an alternative form of "hello" "goodbye" "good night" or "good morning."

And then his lips start traversing down your neck once more, and then they go further.

Adam starts draping kiss after kiss across your torso, lips pressing against you in a way that allows his tongue to poke through his teeth as he kisses you with his mouth slightly open. Every single touch of his cold tongue against your warm skin makes you clench around nothing, quickens your heart rate and feels so impossibly delightful. Adam is kissing you in a way that damn near drives you insane, and you feel yourself sinking into how good his lips and tongue feel against you as he delivers praise between kisses.

"Such a good puppy for me, mm?" Adam murmurs when he's close to your belly button. "Taking all of this so well even though you probably just want me inside you already. Such a good cumdump for me, puppy. Perfect."

You hum in response, eyes drifting down to meet his gaze as he looks up at you. He smiles, briefly, before continuing with his kisses, letting himself spend a lot of time on your hips before his kisses rove across your stomach.

He kisses along your v-line slowly and in a way that makes you want to start begging, hands roving up from your hips to your biceps.

He glances at you for a second in the asking, waiting for you to nod. You do so and Adams hands move to your pants, taking them off along with your underwear before laughing at himself.

"I've got you here, lookin' fucking perfect," he says, kissing your bicep. "And yet I'm still clothed."

Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and he lets you pull it off, kissing the side of your shoulder as he watches you toss it near the laundry hamper in the far left corner of the room. Next come his pants and his boxers, which Adam takes off in a manner that's somehow effortless despite his continued kisses to your biceps throughout the process.

"I forget how much I love your arms until I'm kissing your biceps again," Adam says, laughing a little. "Fuck, baby. Your arms are fucking gorgeous."

You hum, pressing your head into the pillow behind you as Adams kisses start up again and his hands start wandering. One settles against your face, cupping it softly, and the other goes wandering delightfully down your torso, not stopping until his fingers are millimeters above your clit.

He pauses, gaze meeting yours in a way that feels almost a little sadistic.

"Gonna make you come so many times tonight, baby," he says. "Safe word?"

"Hibiscus," you whisper. It's a precaution for when you get really kinky, a word you came up with but, five years into your relationship, have yet to actually use.

Adams lips press against the center of your collarbone, "good puppy," he whispers against the skin.

His fingers start making slow, tantalizing circles around your clit, and his kisses continue, roving down your torso and staying in the general area of your hips and stomach.

A few minutes pass you by, and right when Adam has picked up the speed and is bringing you to the edge of an orgasm, he stops.

When he notices the disappointment in the way your head falls back onto the pillow, he wastes no time in licking his fingers clean of the wetness spread across them.

"Didn't think I'd let you come so soon, did you, puppy?" Adam moves up, lips near your ear. "I did say I'd make you come multiple times tonight, but I said nothing of letting you do so without a little edging first. Gonna edge you until the sun goes down, at least, and then make you cum until at least one or two in the morning. Gonna call in sick tomorrow, too, so that I'm not worrying about waking up and going into work."

"How much more time until the sunset?" You ask. It's four--the sunset can't really be so far off, can it?

"An hour," Adam says. "But--to be fair, a lot more can be done in an hour than one might think. Also--eight hours between five and one am. Assuming that the session exhausts you, you'll probably wake up close to noon tomorrow, but there's snow in the forecast and I'll probably make you a cup of tea if I wake up before you do."

You hum. "Thank you, Adam," you whisper. He kisses you deeply, and you can still taste yourself on his tongue.

"Don't thank me," he says when he's pulled away. "It's what good partners do, especially when I'll have practically rearranged your guts and it'll be a reward for doing good anyway."

You laugh. Adam presses a kiss to your forehead as his hands once again ground themselves on your hips and yours find his shoulders, holding him close.

"I love you, baby," he says. "Sorry that work has been shit."

"I love you too," you respond. "And--that's not your fault. Please don't blame yourself for mistakes that aren't yours, Adam. Please, just kiss me. Wanna forget about work and stupid fucking Earle--just wanna think about how good it feels to be touched and kissed by you. Please."

Adams lips press against your forehead again, his hands cupping your face.

"Gonna make sure you do," he says. His lips move to your biceps again, and you shudder an intake of breath as he leaves a hickey in the wake of one of his kisses.

You have a thought to call him a hickey fiend but don't--the risk of joking with him when Adam is in dom mode is not worth the reward even slightly.

His kisses trail down your face to your neck, and from your neck to your chest. You moan a little when his lips find your nipples, biting gently as his hands give your hips a contented squeeze.

Your head falls back onto the pillow beneath it, and you smile slightly as you hear Adams contented hum as he kisses along your chest from one nipple to the other.

The next several minutes are spent in pretty much the same state. Adam kisses your chest and neck with an open mouth, tongue all too eager to leave a trail of saliva behind his kisses. He's mostly quiet as he goes about it, but every time he does something to make you moan his hands squeeze your hips in acknowledgement.

And then his lips move to your stomach, spending an absurd amount of time leaving hickeys in the less obvious places. He spends more time on your hips which tells you you'll have dark hickeys to look forward to once you have the time to investigate the state of your body in a mirror, but he's not always the dominant one when you two are having sex--you'll find your moment where he's in a particularly submissive mood and douse his body with light-ish hickeys in some very obvious spots.

His lips move down to your thighs, and his gaze meets yours.

"You're feeling all right?" He asks, lips pressing gloriously against the top of your right thigh. "Need you to make space for me, puppy. Haven't paid your thighs attention in so fucking long--'nother minute of waiting and I will go insane."

You laugh as you spread your legs and Adam positions himself in between them, lips moving across your thighs as his arms slip under them and his hands find your hips.

The amount of attention he devotes to your legs alone is almost a little excessive--it takes him ten minutes before he's content to move from your right leg to your left, and then he's focusing on that leg just as long.

Then again--Adam has always loved your thighs. You've had moments of insecurity that they were too big to handle but he's always met your insecurity with reassurance, promised that he'd tell you if he was having trouble breathing whenever he asked you to sit on his face. He loves your thighs and your biceps, which are two of the areas where you find most of your insecurity.

And then you feel his breath against your folds, and you breathe in deeply while clenching around nothing.

"Wanna taste you, puppy," Adam says. You're nodding eagerly before he can even finish the sentence, wondering how it was that you managed to go eight months without feeling Adams mouth over your folds, his lips on your clit.

Adam is good at giving oral--he is fucking amazing at it, and as his tongue presses flat against your folds, his gaze holding yours, you find that it seems he's still as good as he was eight months ago.

His tongue runs through your folds for a very long few seconds before it presses against your clit. You moan at the contact, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as his tongue moves in circles around the bundle of nerves.

His tongue moves back to your folds, and your hand goes to his hair. You don't hold him in a tight grip or anything, just enough to ground yourself and keep yourself from slipping away.

It's hard not to slip into it, though. The grip that Adam has on your hips, the way he's eating you out like a man starved and that goddamned nickname he always uses whenever he's domming. All of it is so much combined, so much after eight months, and all you want to do is slip into subspace and just let Adam use you however he wants.

He keeps going until you're so close--teetering on the edge, nearly ready to come on his face--and then he stops, pulling away with a glistening mouth to take a breath.

And then he's lifting himself off of you, pulling himself up to press kiss after kiss after kiss to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, and his hand is cupping your face.

"Please, puppy," he says. "Don't wanna go eight months without this ever again. Missed it."

It takes everything in you to drum up a response, still working through the second almost-orgasm of the evening.

"Never," you manage to mumble as your head turns, seeking Adams lips. He kisses you slowly, meaningfully, and you have a moment--just a moment--where you hate yourself for letting sex get away from you for such a long time.

Work has been eight months of never ending stress, eight months of managing one hundred and sixty people, dealing with a boss who claims to care about the team but only offers a raise to the five people from whom a guy stole off time rather than firing the idiot. You feel bad--work has taken the majority of your head space since March, and that doesn't feel fair in the fucking slightest.

"Adam," you whisper. He presses a peck to your lower lip and darts his tongue out to wet his own.

"Yeah, puppy?"

"Missed you," you respond. "'M sorry about work. I promise I didn't mean to get so busy, it's just--Earle and his fucking scheme, and Monica refusing to fire his sorry ass while he has the time of his goddamned life in Monaco, and--ugh. I don't mean to ruin the mood but it's just not leaving my head."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your forehead. "I know how you get, Y/N," he says. "I'm too drunk on the thought of your thighs around my head to even get slightly turned off right now but that's not the point."

He laughs again, thumb gliding across your bottom lip. "I've been worried about you but I knew work was probably the reason for your late nights, baby. I promise, it just made me cherish our lazy mornings even more. If you don't like working there, you can always quit, too--you've got your rainy day savings, and my job lets me cover the rent and have money left for groceries if you don't get something right away. Has anything else been bugging you or is it just work?"

"Just been in a funk," you respond. "The sex is helping a lot, but I've always found that being with you helps me like nothing else can. Needed this, Adam. Even if you've kept me from orgasming twice so far."

"Fifteen more minutes til sundown," Adam says. "You'll be so sick of coming when I finally start letting you, baby. I think I have it in me to last eight hours, but that's because I'll be giving myself a reprieve. You, however, might not get one. Dunno--it depends on if you'll want one, really."

"You'll know I do if I use the safe word," you respond. "Just--be soft with me, mm? I don't think I can handle being degraded too much, if at all. I'm scared that if you call me a slut with a mean tone I'll just fall to pieces and start crying."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your temple. "Think I've done enough edging," he says. "Kind of just wanna kiss you until you're begging me for more, baby. Sound okay?"

You nod, arms wrapping around his shoulders. "You really wouldn't be mad if I quit my job?"

"I would be the opposite of angry at you if you just announced it and didn't even give your two weeks," Adam says. "You've spent the majority of the last year giving them an arm and both of your legs in the effort it's taken to keep things afloat. You're up for a significant raise which I would wait to see if you got, but there are places that pay the amount you'd be getting after your raise as the starting salary, which only goes up after the first six months. I'd start applying to those places if I were in your shoes and I didn't get the raise I fuckin' deserved."

Adams lips drop to your collarbone. "'M so in love with you," he says. "And I'm sorry that work has been such a shitstorm lately. If you want, you can switch from a marketing job to working for a salary that covers rent and groceries with me at the bookshop? They're hiring all the fucking time and it means I can basically just...spend the entirety of my break just kissing you relentlessly if you do decide to join up."

You laugh, pulling a hand through his hair. "Maybe," you say. "If I don't get the raise."

Adam laughs, gently biting against your collarbone as his hands find your hips again.

"Love your hips, puppy," he says. "Will probably have to put lotion on the hickeys I left on 'em. Got a little carried away."

"I'll get my revenge somehow," you respond. "If you ever find yourself in a submissive mood, I will absolutely cover your neck in them."

"I like hickeys in obvious places, so long as you keep them light,"

"Oh, they will be. Everywhere but your pulse point--I happen to like your pulse point, Adam. Might get carried away worse than you did with my hips."

Adam bites your collarbone again, kissing up the center of it to the underside of your jaw before his lips are once again against yours.

"I love you so fucking much," Adam says into the kiss, giving your hips a hard squeeze. "Fuck, Y/N. Gonna make sure all of your stress is gone from your mind completely. Just want you to be thinking about me, puppy."

All you can do in response is moan into Adams mouth, closing your eyes and moaning once more as he uses your moaning to slip his tongue into your mouth, one hand coming up to cup your face.

You spend the next little eternity kissing, moaning whenever Adams hands squeeze whichever part of your body they've ended up near or on--typically your ass, just below it on your thigh, your hips, or your tits--and occasionally tugging at the hairs near the nape of his neck, where one of your hands rests.

And then, Adam pulls away. You gaze at him as he holds himself up by his elbows, a handsome smirk on his face.

"You're all right?" He asks.

The truth is, all you can think about is the memory of his cock inside you and you're convinced it's slowly driving you nuts, but by all other accounts, yeah.

You nod. "I'm amazing, Adam," you say. "Need to feel you."

As you speak the words, Adam is already reaching for his night stand on his side of the bed, grabbing a condom.

You roll it onto his length, one of your hands overlapping the hand he places on your hip as you lie back down.

Adam positions himself at your entrance, pushing into you slowly even despite how wet you are--you're more than ready to feel him, but Adam still goes slow to be cautious.

When he bottoms out, both of you moan. Your lips are almost right next to Adams ear, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, so the sound of you moaning just makes Adam want you more. One of his hands is on your breast, and he squeezes it, rolling the nipple between his first finger and thumb as you clench around his length.

After a minute, you're telling Adam he can start moving and his thrusts come to a slow start as Adam figures out the pace he wants to start with.

His lips have dipped close to your ear when he whispers, "you're so wet for me," and he kisses the side of your head before adding "such a good puppy. Fuck--you're amazing."

And you're moaning in response, starting to get cockdrunk as Adam moves in calculated thrusts, one hand propping himself up by the elbow and the other against your hip.

Your thighs wrap around his waist to keep him in place, and Adam laughs as he lifts the hand on your hip to cup your face.

"You like this, baby?" He asks. You moan, nodding slightly as your eyes close, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

"Such a good puppy for me," he says. "So good, baby. You're doing so good."

And then you moan again, and Adam presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. He quickens the pace of his thrusts, lips moving to your neck as the hand that was on your face moves to your clit, rubbing circles around it and delighting in the moans it brings from your throat.

Your release spurs his on, and while you moan and release around him Adam releases into the condom, thrusting his way through the aftershocks and the way that your legs start shaking with them.

He pulls out and discards the condom, heading back to you quickly and peppering your face with kisses.

You find yourself in a state of complete and total relaxation and euphoria. Adams hands on you make you sink further in, and Adam laughs a little--you're looking at him like he's the love of your life while you're practically drowning in post-orgasm bliss, which is a delightful and meaningful addition to the times in which you've looked at him like that, particularly whenever he's decided to surprise you with breakfast or when you wake up to find him admiring you as he'd woken up before you had.

"You're feeling all right?" The orgasm had been a little intense.

You nod, and Adam presses his nose against the apple of your cheek, pressing a quick kiss there as his hands find your face.

"Going quiet?" He presses his lips to your forehead. "Not for long, baby. I have at least seven more hours with you, yeah?"

You nod, and Adams lips are on yours again.

A lot of the time, you start to realize, will be passed with Adams lips against yours, his hands going somewhere on your body as you moan and whine at his touches.

You don't hate the idea, though--Adam is a damn good kisser and absolutely knows what he's doing with his lips and tongue. You've proven yourself capable of lazily making out with Adam for hours several times, though that was when the two of you were kiss fiends in the honeymoon phase and couldn't go more than twenty minutes without it.

But then, Adams lips trail from your lips to your chest, paying attention to it as his hands move from your face to your hips. Once he's paid satisfactory attention to your chest, he moves to your stomach, where, per the presence of your hips close by, he stays for a long ten minutes.

Then his lips are on your inner thighs and your hand is in his hair and all you can do is moan, one word waiting and ready at the tip of your tongue but not falling off of it.

You watch through half lidded eyes as Adams eyes lock on your cunt, nod fervently when his gaze meets yours and his head tilts in the asking.

His tongue finds your clit and he moves one finger, slowly, into your hole as his lips follow his tongue. You turn your head and moan into the pillow in an effort to silence yourself, but the noise level at which the moan sits is still so obscene that Adam chuckles, shaking his head as his left arm slips under your thigh and his hand finds purchase at your chest.

Adams tongue moves around your clit in evenly paced circles, finger moving at a calculated pace as he adds another. Adams fingers curl around your g-spot once every fifteen-ish seconds, and every time your moans get louder because of the action, Adam laughs a little and presses his tongue flat against your clit.

Adam has you pushed to your orgasm in fifteen minutes. You barely have time to warn him before you're coming over his mouth, chin, and his hand, but Adam hardly cares. He only licks his fingers to clean them and juts his tongue out to run it over his lips, all while holding your gaze.

And then he's kissing you and you're tasting yourself, humming into the kiss as Adam reaches one arm out and fumbles for the nightstand in search of another condom.

Adam gets it and rips it open, sliding it onto his length and motioning for you to get on your knees and turn around. You do as he says and Adam slowly slides into you, the both of you moaning slightly as he bottoms out.

Adam waits a minute for you to adjust to him, and once you have he starts thrusting. He sets an even, quick pace and moves a hand to your clit, moaning as you lean back and press your back against his front.

Adams lips find a spot in the space between your neck and shoulder, and every last one of the sounds you make spurs him on. His moans are low, typically comorbid with yours, and they come in between the praise he manages to mumble out as he moves and you start moving back onto him.

"So good," he mutters, biting gently against your shoulder. "Fuck--"

You moan in response, unable to form any coherent thought other than Adams name.

"Adam," you whisper as the pace at which Adams finger touches your clit increases. "Adam--"

You feel him smile against your skin, a cocky grin taking up his face.

"Yes, baby?" He asks, moaning as you clench around him. "Gonna use your words for me, mm?"

"Adam," it's the only word that comes to mind right now, though it'll be one of ten, at best, once he's pushed you to orgasm again.

"Adam, oh--" You moan as he snaps his hips up into you.

Adam keeps the pace he's set and it's not long before you're moaning loudly as Adams lips and tongue suck a hickey into the space where your neck meets your shoulder, your release occurring just seconds before his own, before he's a moaning mess as he thrusts into you through the aftershocks.

Adam pulls out and lays you back onto the bed before rolling the condom off and tossing it into the trash.

The cycle continues that way until you find yourselves nearing one in the morning. Your lips are wet with your own saliva after you've pulled off of Adams length and he's being sweet, your face in his hands as you start moving to sit on the bed.

"One more for me, baby," he says. In eight hours, you've come more than eight times, your legs are basically jelly, and all you have on your mind is Adam. "Just one more, mm? Then I'll run us a bath and we can just relax, I promise. Aftercare god, remember?" He laughs a little at the tail end of his sentence, cringing at himself a little bit.

And you're nodding, smiling at Adam as his lips find your inner thighs and you're blissed out on post-orgasm euphoria--Adam had let you touch yourself while sucking his dick, and you'd come over your hand as he shot his load into your mouth, which you'd agreed to let him do--and it's fifteen minutes til one and Adams lips against your thighs is absolutely amazing.

And then his lips and tongue go to your cunt, and you're moaning as your thighs wrap around his head, which leads to him laughing and squeezing your hips.

And Adam eats you out carefully, slowly, moaning as he does so. He's taking his time with you because you're blissed out and will definitively need to be easy on yourself in terms of walking after all that's been done. He's moaning, tongue moving through your folds in a way that feels incredible to both you and him, and his lips find your clit as he moves to start fingering you.

Adam sets a good pace, quick but not too quick, and curls his fingers at your g-spot with every thrust. You're moaning loudly despite the time and Adam is loving it, and then you're coming on his lips and his tongue and Adam is licking it off your cunt and his lips with a focused precision.

Then Adam is getting up, pressing a kiss to your forehead and telling you he'll be back in a few minutes. He tells you he loves you but doesn't expect a response--you're absolutely too blissed out to say much of anything, and he loves it because it's the first time in eight months where you've looked so relaxed, the first time in eight months where you've felt it.

Your eyes close as Adam leaves your shared bedroom, and you hear him starting up a bath. You smile to yourself, pressing your cheek against the pillow, having a brief, floaty thought of I am so lucky before Adam comes into the room again, smile on his clean face.

He kisses your eyelids, hands finding and interlacing themselves with yours.

"C'mon," he says. "I've run us a bath, baby. Gonna relax your legs, which are definitely sore by this point."

And then your eyes are opening and he's helping you stand as he tells you how much he loves you and how amazing you were during the session, and his lips are against your forehead in a kiss.

You're mostly quiet as Adam leads you to the bathroom, humming as you get into the tub with him.

You press your chin against Adams shoulder and in the next few minutes, you're still tired but the water is still hot and you're starting to form coherent thoughts again.

"Thank you," you whisper, pressing a kiss to Adams wet shoulder. He hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"For what?" Adam asks.

"For the last nine hours," you say. "For making me forget about work stress and for the sex."

Adam laughs, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "The sex was enjoyable for both parties, then," he says. "And--you're welcome, but you don't need to thank me. Just wanted to help you de-stress a little, and I'm glad I could do that."

You're in the bath together for thirty-ish minutes after that, and you let Adam wash your hair as he peppers your hickied neck with kisses and his hands run along your biceps. You wash his, and you spend the time waiting for the conditioner to set talking about your plans for the day as the day has turned.

Adam intends to let you sleep in and to make breakfast, and you intend to at least move from the bedroom to the living room after you've woken up so that you can read from the comfort of your couch.

You get out of the bath and, because your legs are still pretty sore, have barely any choice but to let Adam help you back to your room and sit on the bed as Adam gets dressed and grabs you clothes.

You get dressed into a pair of black boxers--they, Adam decides, will be comfier than sweatpants--and a hoodie Adam had during his baggy clothes phase that's baggy on you, too, and covers two thirds of your thigh before your knee amidst laughter and kisses that you share in the relative dark.

You and Adam end up going to sleep on the couch anyway so as to avoid halfhearted fighting about who sleeps on the wet spot on the bed from the sweat emitted during sex, curled up in each others arms with a thick, warm and fuzzy blanket covering you both up to your shoulders.

[theamityelf]

"I don't recognize myself." + Kamuegi 😏

(Okay, I'll try my best!)

...

Makoto's life with Izuru was far from boring, but there was a definite element of routine to it. Comfortable routine. Metronomic and pleasant.

That was why he knew before he had even finished opening the front door that something was going on.

Most days, Izuru was waiting for him at the door– a byproduct of his exceptional hearing, speed, and slight clairvoyance. Depending on how busy he was, Izuru didn't always open the door for him, but he was usually there to take Makoto's bag while he took off his shoes.

Makoto walked in, and the house was silent. He closed the door behind himself, fighting back the usual post-killing-game irrational fear whenever someone wasn't in the expected place at the expected time. He took some deep breaths as he progressed further into the house.

He could smell dinner.

It smelled delicious.

No sign of Izuru in the kitchen.

"I'm home," he called out.

He heard no response, but there was a light on in the bedroom. He warily walked towards it.

Okay. So, the bedroom itself was dark, but the attached bathroom was alight. He walked in and saw...hair.

A lot of hair.

The tiles of the bathroom floor were all but carpeted in hair. There was a discarded pair of scissors on the side of the sink basin and a lot of hair on the floor.

"Izuru?" he called out, a little louder. It wasn't like Izuru never cut his hair, and he did remember having seen what looked like a lot of hair be cut from Izuru's long mane without making a significant difference to his overall appearance. But this time, he knew it was a pretty drastic haircut. It had to be. And Izuru hadn't swept up after himself, which was unusual.

Makoto left the bathroom and, on a hunch, turned to the bedroom closet. The door was closed, where it usually sat slightly ajar. He opened it gently.

It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, though he could tell at once that things weren't as he'd last seen them. All of his clothes had been pulled down from the hangers and lay in a pile on the floor, and...He squinted, and yes, Izuru was curled up in the pile, laying very still.

His hair was just about shoulder length, almost as short as it had been before the Project. Despite the state it was in now- mussed, like he had been raking his hands through it a lot, and haphazardly covering his face -it was clear that the trim itself was perfectly straight.

Makoto knelt at Izuru's side. "Hey. You look exhausted."

He didn't answer.

"I'm...going to bring you some water, okay? I'll be right-"

Izuru moved, lurching up to grab Makoto and dragging him into the pile with him. Makoto's heart couldn't help racing at the sudden movement, but he calmed down as he found himself pinned to the floor by Izuru's body, wrapped in his arms, and nuzzled by his head. Maybe it was his imagination, but it felt as though Izuru was noticeably lighter, without all his hair.

"Was today a hard day?" he asked, rubbing his lover's back.

A minute nod.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's easier...just to answer questions."

"Okay. Well, uh...Has it been hard all day, or did something happen at a specific time?"

"I was cooking dinner."

Yeah, he'd figured as much. "And what happened?"

Izuru exhaled. "Brain stuff. Identity crisis. Scissors."

Makoto nodded. "How do you feel?"

"I was angry. Suddenly I just felt so angry. And then the anger passed, and I was just...lost. And I needed to anchor myself." He squeezed Makoto tighter. "My anchor."

Makoto kissed his head. He absorbed the information for a minute. He hated the thought of not being around when Izuru needed him. "So...that's why it's just my clothes?" He glanced at Izuru's side of the closet, where all the clothes were still hanging orderly and untouched.

Izuru took a deep breath. "I don't recognize myself. But I recognize you. In the dark, without a word, I recognize you. Down to a single eyelash."

Makoto's heart ached. "I recognize you, too. Down to the callouses on your fingers."

"Callouses change."

"So do we." His other hand cautiously ascended to Izuru's head, settling at the base of his skull and lightly grazing his scalp with his fingernails. Izuru sighed contently. "Is it okay if we get up and...maybe turn some lights on? I still think you should drink some water."

"No. I want to cuddle here in the dark where there are no mirrors and the world can't touch us."

"We're part of the world," Makoto said lightly.

"I'm kidnapping you now. Your world is this closet."

"I'm getting up. I'm getting you a glass of water. And we can both eat dinner in the closet. Okay?"

"If you're not back in sixty seconds, I really will kidnap you."

"No, you won't. But, I'll be right back!" Makoto offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile, as he extricated himself from Izuru's grasp (and was promptly replaced by an armful of his jackets).

He hurried back about a minute later, balancing two plates of food and two glasses of water.

"Seventy-seven seconds," Izuru murmured.

"Thank you for your patience." Makoto set up the plates and glasses on the floor. "Is it okay if I turn on a light, now?"

"If you turn on the bedroom light and close the closet door, we'll both be able to see our food and I won't be overwhelmed."

"Okay! That works."

In the time it took for Makoto to turn on the bedroom light and return to the closet, Izuru had drained his entire glass of water and was halfway through his plate of food.

So you were hungry, he thought. Izuru's metabolism was as active as he was, and he had a bad habit of ignoring what his body needed, when his mind was fixated on something else.

"Any better?" he asked, sitting down at his own plate.

"It's possible the haircut suits me," Izuru replied. "I'm not ready to look at it again, or hear about it, but it's less cumbersome, at least."

"Good. No need to carry any more weight than you want to. Or have to. Whichever's less."

"You mean whichever is more."

He thought about it. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Izuru finished his plate. "I want some more water, but I don't want you to leave again."

Makoto slid his own glass in front of his boyfriend.

"No, I'm not asking for yours. You need to be hydrated, too."

"You had a worse day than I did. I'll survive."

"If you don't, I will menace what remains of society until nothing can grow from the dirt."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will. Stop undercutting my threats."

Makoto smiled at the crimson eyes glaring at him over the rim of his water glass. "Sorry."

Izuru passed him the glass back, half-full. "I sentence you to two hours in the closet nest with me."

"Jeez. When you give it a name like that, it starts to sound like it'll be there forever."

"Why not?"

"My clothes will be wrinkled!"

"I can iron whatever you're about to wear."

Makoto shook his head, half-laughing as he ate his food. Izuru...well, he clearly was not joking, but he was being a good sport, staying fairly lighthearted, given that he'd had a bad day. When he was ready to hear feedback about his hair, Makoto looked forward to telling him that it did, in fact, suit him very well.

[radiant-reid]

Hey bestie! Uh I’ve been having a hard time and some of the sadness I have is from the possibility of being infertile so can I request a brother! Hotch and Boyfriend Spencer comforting reader? I am typing this while crying lol if you can’t that’s completely fine🤍

aw bby 🤍🤍 love you. i hope everything works out

"Reid." Aaron snaps from the landing to the agent's desk.

Not only does it get Spencer's attention, but it also gets everyone else's as well. "Yeah, Hotch?" Spencer asks, frowning slightly.

"Get your stuff." Aaron unhelpfully answers, already walking to the elevator.

Spencer's immediate worry is you. To see his unit chief, your brother, so upset, it's got to be you. He hurriedly packs up before sprinting out the glass doors.

"Why would you let her go alone?" Aaron asks as soon as they step inside, barely able to manage professionalism around other colleagues.

"Y/n?" Spencer asks puzzled. All he knows is that your brother is furious. "Where did she go?"

Aaron sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She seriously didn't say anything?" He waits for an answer before prompting further. "About the fertility doctor?"

The color drains from Spencer's face as he understands what Aaron's saying. "No, I would never have let her go alone." He assures him. "Is she okay?"

"She called me crying, barely audible." Aaron breaks Spencer's heart with each word. He tried to comfort you on the phone, but he realized you need to see Spencer in person.

"Why wouldn't she tell me?" He asks, more to himself because he knows the answer, that you would have been trying to be strong and do it yourself.

They get in the car, and Aaron breaks every speed limit to get to your apartment. Spencer doesn't even have room in his brain to worry about a car crash.

Spencer unlocks the apartment, not bothering with doing the courteous thing and letting Hotch go in first. He finds you on the couch, the back of your hand over your mouth. In all the time he'd known you, he didn't think he'd ever seen you so sad.

He sits on the ottoman in front of you. "Sweetheart." He coos, taking your hand.

You glare up at Aaron. "Why'd you tell him?" You whine at your brother.

"Y/n, he needs to know." He tells you.

"Give me a minute?" You ask him, although he was the one that you called.

Aaron leans down to kiss your forehead affectionately. "I'll make you a grilled cheese."

"The crusts-"

"Don't burn them, I know." He cuts you off before mumbling something about how you and Jack are so similar.

Spencer's still holding your hand when you turn to look at him. "Why don't you want me to know?" He asks you.

"Because something in me is broken, so I'm never going to be able to give you kids." You tell him bluntly. You adore Spencer more than anything, but you're scared he's going to leave you.

"No, no, no." He says, shaking his head. "That does not matter to me, Y/n. It's not even a close comparison between getting to be with you or having biological kids."

You're almost crying listening to him. "But you would be such an amazing dad."

"I don't have to be, though." He assures you. "I just want to be with you, no matter what that means."

"Are you sure?" You ask, frowning at him.

Spencer nods. "Absolutely." He answers, holding your cheeks so he can wipe up your tears before he kisses you softly.

Aaron clears his throat, and it makes you pull back. "Grilled cheese." He announces, handing the plate over. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah." You say, smiling at Spencer for a second before looking at your brother. "Can you give my favorite employee of yours the rest of the day off?"

Aaron chuckles. "Sure. I'll tell Morgan to come over." He jokes, squeezing your shoulder before leaving you and Spencer to your grilled cheese.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Lonely Times

I've been hooked on time loop Steddie fics, that's my drug of choice. And I have thoughts because when don't I have those...

What would it look like if one of the time loop conditions was that Steve can't tell anyone? Whenever he tries to, there is an immediate reset, and Steve tries working around it, really does, but it's as if whatever caused this wants him to suffer alone. He goes through several rapid loops just trying to communicate his concerns, but that's a no-go. Changing their plan turns out to be way more difficult because Steve isn't the brains of the group and everyone tends to trust Nancy more with planning, so he sets out to collect as much information as possible on his own.

Apart from the obvious downsides to all of this - dying, seeing his loved ones die, the healing of his wounds resetting every day - the worst part is having to pretend not to know anything others are saying. The vision Vecna showed Nancy? He knows it word by word, but if he tries to interrupt, summarize it faster, click, a reset happens. So he has to play his part, nod along, ask questions - at least his reactions don't need to stay the same, but it's tedious and it makes him feel so alone.

He's tried talking to Eddie more times than he cares to admit, has tried to figure out if there is a way to keep Eddie out of harm's way. For Max, the solution is more clear, stopping Jason Carver from destroying her lifeline - a painful lesson he learned the one time he squeezed into the Creel House team - was obvious, but with Eddie the danger doesn't lie only outside, in the swarms of demobats, it's Eddie's painful disregard for his own life. He's had numerous discussions with Eddie, going in his responses from appreciative to annoyed to genuinely curious because with what Steve knows will happen, he wonders - why doesn't Eddie ever talk about himself apart from all the coward stuff? He wants to see others happy so badly he'll throw his life away without a single thought. Steve finds the familiarity painful. And so keeps asking, keeps prodding, collects information like pieces of a puzzle and he can't help himself, the picture that starts showing up is lovely, it is complex and Steve knows he simply has to bring this damaged boy home, home to his loud music, his loving uncle, his secret ambitions.

He heads to Eddie's trailer when others are still talking, he says he needs some fresh air. He pokes around, finds all the weaknesses, the vents, the fragile doors. Even though others stare at him as if he grew a second head, he gives them all the details, suggests how they should adjust the planned defenses. It's not enough, but Steve has all the power in the world now, he knows how to work the system. The second anything goes wrong, he grabs Robin's shoulder and mutters the magical words: "I'm stuck in a time loop". Eddie won't remember the pain tomorrow, Eddie won't remember the things he told him about his mother, about how he got held back in school because the principal caught him kissing his nephew and that sparked a long vendetta that Eddie couldn't win against. It doesn't matter if Eddie doesn't remember, Steve will spare him the pain, will spare Dustin from losing him all over again. Maybe Steve also selfishly wants to spare himself.

The repetition drives him crazy, but it makes him more bold, less hesitant. He spends more time with Eddie in each loop, talks to him about all the topics in the world, and his heart aches whenever it's go time because he already expects another reset. If he sees any mistakes repeated, knows they won't make it, he just says the magic words and there it is, a second chance, third, fourth, twentieth. He doesn't even count, time doesn't flow the way it should in purgatory anyway.

"I think I've been falling for you," he says once to Eddie, ready to follow the sentence with the spoken reset button, but it doesn't happen, not then. Because Eddie looks at him, his dark eyes and full of fondness, and maybe he's been feeling desperate too because he tosses away the spiked shield and reaches out, strokes Steve's cheek, and Steve's feeling brave and stupid. "I want to know more about you. You're so interesting Eddie, so vibrant, and I don't care if it sounds like I'm losing my mind, because nothing matters to me now than seeing you alive and happy. To have you walk the stage and give the principal the biggest fuck you of his life because you made it. To go on tour or just play at the Hideout, to keep meeting with all the tiny shitheads and create any and all adventures you want, I...I need to see that happen." He covers Eddie's hand with his own. "Please tell me you understand," he whispers and Eddie does, not in words, he kisses Steve right there and then.

When Steve has to say the words that evening, when one of the vines breaks Nancy's leg and they hear Vecna walking down the stairs, disturbed by the muffled scream of pain, he decides that he will do anything and everything to have those lips against his again.

"I'm stuck in a time loop, Nance."

"Hey Robin, I've lived through this day before."

"Eddie is about to die in an hour and the day will reset."

In the end, he figures out the magical combination, just like he figured out Eddie, through trial and error and dedication. He proposes changes to the plan, adding to the "bait" - getting an additional speaker and placing it in another trailer, switching between them to keep the bats occupied, to draw them from one place to another. He's seen it many times already, Eddie can never feel like his job is done. He will keep him occupied. He will keep him safe.

Erica has to move positions, she signals from somewhere else to avoid being spotted. Lucas barricades the doors and places Max's walkman to a safer position. Steve and Nancy make their way upstairs and get Vecna, Robin stays outside and cuts off his escape with more Molotov cocktails until the two make it back.

And just like that, a dam breaks in their minds. "What..." mutters Nancy and stares at Steve as if she saw him for the first time. "Have we been through this before? I feel like..."

"Like there's a shit ton of memories in your head that never happened?" adds Robin and expects Steve to explain, knows he had something to do with it, but he doesn't have the time or energy for that, he just stares in the direction of the trailer park and runs, because if this is it, if others remember, then-

He meets Eddie halfway there, in the forest, near the place when Eddie told him a lifetime ago he should get Nancy back. "You..." wheezes Eddie and Steve presses the knuckles of his hand to his mouth to stifle an ugly sob, "...knew all along, didn't you?"

"Yes," whispers Steve and can't help it, pulls Eddie into a crushing hug, his own injuries be damned. "For such a long time, Eddie. It never worked out, I don't know how many times, but it's okay now, you remember, I...I wanted to tell you so badly." He's full on crying now, sobbing into Eddie's neck and he vaguely registers Eddie's hand stroking his back.

He's about to apologize and pull back, he never wanted to dump all this on Eddie, but Eddie holds him just as tight and his long fingers find their way into Steve's hair, gently massaging his head. "You did so good, Steve," he says and his voice sounds broken, quiet. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all that alone. I wish I remembered all of that sooner."

Steve gives a wet chuckle, still buried in Eddie's shoulder. "All of that, huh?" He wonders if Eddie remembers really everything, because then-

"Everything. But especially that one moment. I hope you haven't changed your mind about the falling thing," and Eddie is finally pulling away, just a little, to look into Steve's eyes. "Because if that was the only time I get to kiss you, this will be my villain origin backstory."

They are both laughing now, staring at each other through the tears and they can hear steps getting closer, Nancy and Robin finally catching up. "I'm pretty sure the info you have is outdated," says Steve and pulls Eddie closer, if that's even possible. "I'm way past falling now. I'm completely gone for you, man."

"Good, then we have something in common. I still don't get how you did it, how this whole loop thing came about, but I don't give a fuck. This is our year, baby," he grins at Steve.

And Eddie is right. It is.

[ktysh]

it was past midnight. charlie had just finished writing a draft of the chapter he had been working on for the last few days, and was about to go to bed. he thought joshua was already asleep, but to his surprise, joshua wasn't. he was sitting on his side of the bed, his face in his hands, trembling.

it wasn't exactly unusual, but the past two months had been kind of... weird.

since the night joshua lost both his twin brother and childhood best friend, charlie hadn't seen him cry, not even once. he knew that joshua's brain was trying to protect him and that once the environment was safe enough to express all those feelings, joshua would break. he just didn't know when it would happen.

it seemed like the time had come. joshua just finished working on that big project with his agency; esther was doing great in therapy, she started talking again and even made a few friends in her kindergarten; charlie's health wasn't bothering him too much those days. they had money and a new apartment that was big enough for all of them. things were stable, and joshua didn't need to keep everything under control anymore. he could let someone else be the responsible adult for the time being.

after a few minutes of sitting in silence, charlie asked softly, "wanna talk?"

joshua nodded. "i feel so... conflicted," he whispered. "we've never wanted kids. i always thought it's gonna be just you and me, and pets... i don't even know what i'm doing right now. i read, and watch, and listen to tons of parenting stuff, but i still don't know if i'm doing anything right."

he sighed, squeezing charlie's hands. "i wasn't ready for this. i wish we didn't have to do this. and now i feel guilty, because there's this tiny voice in my head that tells me that if i feel this way it means i don't love esther. but i do. i do. i just... i wish they were still here."

charlie wasn't sure what he could say to make things better, or if it even was possible. he had always been awkward with his words. "you know that voice is lying, don't you? i don't know what i'm doing either, but... we're still doing great."

"i'm afraid to make it worse for her," joshua admitted. "i'm not made for having kids. i don't want her to feel unloved and unwanted, but... how do we explain to her why i straight up shut down and ignore everyone some days? what if I hurt her because i won't be able to give her affection when she needs it the most?"

charlie caressed the back of joshua's hands with his thumbs. "we'll ask. we'll ask your therapist, her therapist, we'll think of something she would understand. together. okay? you're not alone in this, i promise."

[nifolution]

I Quit 7

Warnings: some smut, some angst, noncon touching, dubcon oral, Ransom is his usual asshole self, the Thrombeys are horrible, being drugged, undressed and tied up, name calling, threats

A/N: This is a revised copy of my oc fic. It is written in 3rd person. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. Thoughts are in italics. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated. 

Chapter 6 Series Masterlist  Main Masterlist

Chapter 7

“I’m uncertain what exactly you are asking of me.” Harlan picked at the cuff of his shirt, awaiting his grandson’s explanation.

Two days ago, a pipe burst ‘unexpectedly,’ flooding Ransom's home. In lieu of a hotel, he decided to stay at the mansion while repairs were being made. Meanwhile, his relatives were getting ready for a week-long ski trip in the Berkshire Mountains to celebrate his mom’s birthday. The conditions were looking favorable. Hell, his father was so certain that everyone would be busy having fun, that he already paid for his current mistress to meet him there.

As tempting as causing some mayhem with his family and bedding a few snow bunnies sounded, his focus was solely on the seemingly unattainable chef. He had stolen a taste and craved more. It was time to switch tactics, no more messing around. He would get what he wanted.

When Ransom informed his mother he couldn’t go, claiming his recent hardship had caused him to come down with a cold, Linda sucked her teeth, told him he was acting like a baby and put the back of her hand to his forehead. A brief look of remorse crossed her face before declaring he clearly couldn't go in this shape. She then screamed for Fran, demanding hand sanitizer.

He could barely suppress his devious grin. Keeping up the act was easy. A heating pad to get his head burning hot, making sure to appear completely worn down and in pain. He’d pretend to blow his nose, stuff balled up pieces of tissue up his nostrils to sound congested. Force out a few coughs, wiggle his tongue on the roof of his mouth to trigger a sneeze. He had looking sick down to a science.

Ransom coughed into his fist. “You’re still paying her, you should have her cook for me in your absence. All that sumptuous food will surely help nurse me back to health. Plus I'll be here to watch over the place.”

“Please consider it. I’m too weak to even make my own toast. It's bad enough I'm missing the trip, don't let me starve.”

Harlan was skeptical, well versed in his grandson’s antics. Refusing to be swayed by the young man’s act of malaise. While true that he planned to allow Y/N to spend the week off with pay, he had not informed her of the decision. Ransom’s pleas to not be deprived of her luscious creations were entertaining. He wondered what he was up to.

After some back and forth, they compromised. Y/N would be paid for the entire week, but only be required to come in for a single day to prepare a few meals for Ransom to reheat.

Ransom nodded in agreement, already having visions of taking her under the wheel of knives. “That’s all I need.”

---------------

Y/N walked into the manor unsure why it gave her a bad feeling. Shaking it off, she convinced herself it was because the house was empty except for major asshole sick upstairs. She probably wouldn’t have to see him at all today. Just cook a week of meals and get the hell out of here. She hoped whatever was wrong with him made him miserable.

Making her usual pot of coffee, she got started.

---------------

“Wakey wakey.”

Y/N groaned as she attempted to open her eyes. The jarring light made her quickly squeeze them shut again. She turned her head into the pillow. The dull throbbing in her brain not giving her any incentive to try to get up.

“There she is. I was almost afraid I gave you too much. That would have been unfortunate.”

Ughhhh, why the hell is he here? Of course he’d show up when I already feel like shit.

Feeling too groggy to deal with him immediately, Y/N began to stretch, preparing herself to beat his ass. Something pulled painfully at her left wrist, not allowing her arm to move. Opening her eyes, she could make out the shiny metal binding her to the bed.

“What the fuck?” Y/N tugged at the handcuff, willing it to release her. Confused and pissed off, she searched for Ransom. Even with her vision blurry around the edges, she could tell this was not her room.

She followed the sound of his wicked chuckle until his blue sweater came into view. He stalked around the large bed, amused at her current predicament.

“Let me go, asshole!”

A chill came over her as he passed. Looking down, she was alarmed to find herself without a stitch of clothing on. Y/N clamped her legs shut, throwing her free arm over her breasts.

This can NOT be happening. I’m going to fucking kill him.

Ransom’s handsome cocky face appeared above her, unabashedly devouring her with his eyes. “I don't think I will. I went through a lot of trouble to get you here, good thing you still need that morning caffeine fix.”

“You drugged my coffee, you fucking psycho?”

He shrugged, “Guilty as charged.”

Disappearing for a moment, he returned, holding a glass to her lips. “You’re gonna need this.” Noticing her hesitation, he swore it was just water. Satisfied as she cautiously sipped it.

When she finished, he set down the glass and climbed onto the bed. Running his fingertips down her side making her squirm. “I prefer you like this. No knives, no boiling pots, just you and me.” His eyes darkened with promise, “And I'm looking at the only thing I want to eat.”

Y/N wanted to tear his eyes out. She tried to slap his hand away without exposing too much of herself, “Get your perverted hands off me, undo these cuffs and give me back my clothes. NOW!”

“Your anger is a real turn on.” He smirked, running his thumb over her bottom lip, “Let this be a lesson to you…”

“I always get what I want.”

Ransom pulled her arm away from her chest, biting at her inner wrist. He crawled on top of Y/N, pinning her arm next to her head. Effectively caging her with his body, he placed soft kisses to her neck, quickly turning ravenous.

She didn’t want to be feeling these things. Y/N’s stomach fluttered and her heart beat faster. Words failed her, lost in the sensations his greedy mouth provided. She did her best to show no reaction, but the goosebumps on her skin and her quickened breaths betrayed her. The effect of his touch was undeniable.

Taking his time to reacquaint himself with her breasts, his wandering fingers glided over her nipples. Moving his kisses down between her tits, as his hands caressed them. Lifting his head, he blew air across her nipples until they hardened.

He placed his large hands over each breast, massaging and squeezing them together. Increasing the pressure until almost painful. His rough actions in contrast with the softness of the pampered pricks hands.

The flick of his tongue over each nipple had Y/N clenching around nothing. An involuntary whine escaping as the wet appendage traced her areolas. Using his hot breath to further stimulate her peaks, he sucked one into his mouth, simultaneously pinching the other. Ransom alternated his licks and sucks between both breasts while she futilely attempted to resist.

Her skin was on fire, all her senses intoxicated with her tormentor. She swallowed as he moved down her body, leaving a burning trail with his sinister mouth and hands. He spread her legs with little resistance, settling between them like this was his personal throne.

First exploring with his fingers, he gently rubbed her clit with his thumb. Y/N gasped and tried to close her legs. Ransom swatted them back open and lowered his chin to rest on her mound, waiting for her to match his gaze.

It took a moment for her to look down, greeted with his beautiful blues staring back at her. The sight of him between her legs making her weak. His eyes carried a mischievous glint as he lowered his face. Her breath caught in her throat when he eagerly lapped and sucked at her folds. Dragging his tongue down and around, dipping into her opening. Licking teasing circles around where she needed him most, gently flicking his tongue on her bud before repeating.

Any remaining fog Y/N felt disappeared as he took her apart piece by piece. Her free hand found its way into his hair, holding on for dear life. His tongue wiggled itself fully inside her aching hole. She cried out in surprise when he sucked as much of her into his mouth as he could. A loud satisfied hum sending ripples through her, electrifying every nerve.

Releasing her, Ransom licked his lips and dove back in for more. His hands moved from gripping her thighs to kneading her ass as he continued to expertly suck and lick at her most sensitive areas. Devouring her like a fine meal.

“Say my name, Killer.” He commanded, softly licking her clit up and down.

Her toes curled, “Oh God!”

“Close. Try again.” His tempo increased.

“Hugh”, she taunted, pulling on his locks.

A slap to her cunt made her gasp. She gave in, “Ransom.”

Satisfied, Ransom sucked on two of his fingers, smiling at her before slowly, maddeningly inserting them in her dripping pussy. Slightly curling his digits as he pumped them in and out, he continued using his entire tongue to lick from her opening to her clit.

She wrapped her legs around his shoulders, silently begging for more as she grinded against his face. Her hand squeezed her right breast as the sweet pressure built. Ransom reached out to grab her left. Y/N’s back arched more and more as her thighs began to quiver.

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

The dam burst. Her body felt like it was levitating as she came with a shriek, collapsing in a boneless heap.

Withdrawing his fingers, Ransom slid up her body. Grabbing the back of her neck, he pulled her into a kiss, possessing her breath. To his sheer delight, Y/N held his cheek, deepening the kiss, entwining their tongues in a dance of dominance.

Suddenly, she broke contact by putting her hand over his mouth. “Get me out of these so I can return the favor. You won’t regret it.”

His eyes lit up. Pulling the key out of his pants pocket, Ransom excitedly unlocked the cuffs. She took a minute to rub at the freed wrist before encouraging him to lay down. He spanked her juicy behind as they switched positions, making her laugh.

Y/N wasted no time pulling his clothes off. Kissing him hard and groping every part of him she could reach. He felt as amazing as she imagined.

“I knew you wanted me. I knew it, I fucking knew it.” Ransom was elated at the turn of events.

Tearing off the black boxer briefs, Y/N marveled at his impressive cock. Fully erect and begging for attention, it made her almost forget she shouldn’t sink down on and ride him into next week.

She grinned at him as she closed the handcuffs on both his hands, securing him to the bed, “Fair is fair.”

“Kinky slut.” Transfixed on the gorgeous smile directed at him, Ransom submitted to her game.

Pressing her lips to his one more time, she began kissing down his neck, leaving a few love bites. He yelped when she tweaked both his nipples. Forgiven with giggles because she looked so hot worshiping his body. Ransom closed his eyes in pleasure.

Y/N paid special attention to his chest and abdomen, sucking as many hickies as she could. He wantonly moaned each time, encouraging her to mark him, make him hers. She had to admit she was loving having control over him. His desperate sounds making her drip.

Parting his thighs and kneeling between them, she scratched down both of his strong thighs causing him to hiss. “Eyes on me, baby, you don't want to miss this.”

Ransom watched with interest as her hand wrapped around his dick, stroking the firm velvety length. They locked eyes as Y/N gave it a long lick. Lowering her mouth over the crown, she started swirling her tongue around, gently sucking the head before pulling back.

Gathering saliva in her mouth, she swallowed him until he bumped the back of her throat. Gagging slightly, she pulled away. Y/N smiled coyly, tickling his frenulum with the tip of her tongue. Taking a deep breath, she firmly grasped the base, repeating her previous action. 

Gently sucking as he slid in and out of her mouth, she used her other hand to carefully fondle his balls. Ransom praised her, his head falling back onto the pillow, eyes falling shut again, relishing in the wet heat of her mouth.

Y/N increased her rhythm until Ransom was a panting mess above her, every muscle in his body tense. She switched to pumping with her hand, “You close, baby?”

“S-s-so close.”

She gave another lick…

Then pulled away, sitting back on her heels.

It took a few seconds before Ransom’s eyes popped open, “Why'd you stop?”

When she didn’t respond, he grew concerned. “What's wrong?… Killer?”

“I changed my mind,” she shrugged. “I quit.”

He nervously chuckled, “You can't do that. Babe, come on, stop playing around.”

Y/N got off the bed, standing with her hands on hips, staring at him in all his glory. Sighing she shook her head. “What a pity? If you weren't such an asshole…. Oh well.”

She picked up his sweater from the floor, putting it on. His pants and socks followed. His shoes were far too big, but better than nothing. She brandished the key she found, then repocketed it.

“Thanks for the orgasm, but I have better places to be.”

Ransom flipped out, yelling and calling her horrible names. Struggling against the handcuffs with all his might.

She just smiled, “Let this be a lesson to you.” Taking a few steps towards the door, his voice made her pause.

“Killer, Killer, come on, let me go,” he begged. “I’ll forgive you, okay. Shit got out of hand. We don’t have to do anything else. I won’t tell anyone. You won’t tell anyone. I’ll leave you alone for good. You can’t leave me like this. Just help me out of the cuffs, please.”

Wow, he said please. That must have hurt.

Y/N observed him for the last time; naked and handcuffed, chest polka dotted with marks and bruises and impressively still hard and begging. What a state. She felt oddly proud of her accomplishment.

“Sorry, I don't work here.” Cracking up, she turned and walked out the bedroom door, waving goodbye.

Making a small stop in Harlan's office, she could hear ransom struggling upstairs.

Poor baby.

The rush of cold air hitting her face as she left was invigorating. Feeling alive and determined, she walked to her car with a confident gait. Before taking off, she flipped off the house.

So long, assholes.

---------------

Ransom was beyond livid after suffering the humiliation of being found like THAT. He’d been trapped for two days before Fran came by. She had to call someone to come over to cut the cuffs off. He could tell the housekeeper was barely holding in her laughter at his predicament. Even threatening her job and her life didn’t stop her from leaking the information.

Currently he was sitting in his grandfather’s office. Harlan summoned him there, but had yet to speak to him directly. Puttering around, apparently too busy to enlighten Ransom as to why. The longer he was made to wait, the more irritated he got.

Finally Harlan addressed his grandson, “It was quite an unpleasant surprise to come home to my chef’s resignation on my desk. Less surprising was your involvement in her decision.” 

Upon reading the letter when he returned home, Harland immediately phoned Y/N to get the full story. He apologized to her several times, as she did to him as well. He let her know of his disappointment to see her go, and that him and his stomach will miss her terribly. She thanked him for the opportunity and friendship. They parted ways on good terms.

Staring down Ransom, he picked up the phone to call Alan. Instructing him to send his former chef her last check with hefty severance pay and that he would be including a glowing recommendation. Smiling as he spoke, watching his grandson ball his hands into fists, his jaw clenching and eyes ablaze with fury. It was so easy to ruffle his feathers.

Ransom flew out of his chair, knocking it over, going nose to nose with Harlan. “You’re giving that little bitch that much money. Are you out of your fucking mind, old man? You should be calling the cops, not rewarding that slut.”

His grandfather’s amused smile only furthered his anger. “You are my family. You should be supporting ME… You are nothing but a filthy traitor… You set me up, didn’t you?” The accusation rang true in his brain so he clung onto it. He would not stand for this betrayal.

Harlan found the act of intimidation humorous. He would not back down from rubbing the embarrassing blunder in his grandson’s face. “You’ve been harassing this young woman, drugged her, kidnapped her…”

Ransom interrupted, rolling his eyes, “It's not kidnapping if it's in the same house.”

“…bound and sexually assaulted her. And you're mad she got the upper hand?” Harlan threw his head back with a barking laugh. “If she was still on the payroll, I'd give her a raise.” He continued to laugh in Ransom's face. “You are a paragon of foolishness and pride. Do not think I will forget what you have cost me.”

“You will regret this. Just wait.” Ransom stormed out of the office, taking his rage out on everything he saw. 

By the sound of it, Harlan would have to repair a few things once Ransom was done with his tantrum. Turning his chair to face the window, he watched the falling snow. Lamenting the loss of a wonderful employee, he looked forward to supporting her on her next venture. She was going to go places. He would see to it. 

His grandson on the other hand, well, he was going to have to practice some tough love with him. Harlan’s soft heart decided to let Ransom cool off first. Big changes would come soon enough.

The End

A/N: A special thank you to everyone that has read this version or the original. I appreciate you all and I’d love to know your thoughts.

[vermillionsails]

Marc Spector Headcannons part 1

I've been playing Marc Spector on a Discord group and have fics in the works for him but, these are the headcanons that my brain decides to come up with and bonk him over the head with the tragedy sick with. There will be a part two of him in a relationship and NSFW stuff related to that. After this, I will be posting my Jake fic so enjoy! ps. sorry for the clickbait gif, I promise there will be suit-related content in the Future.

Quick A/N I'm finally almost done with the Jake fic I'm working on I only have two more scenes to write. then I'll be updating Fountain pen and uppercut. I'll be posting two Miguel o'hara fics after that then ill be working on a Poe fic. that's my line up so far. for anyone that's interested. also, I googled some stuff to try and be accurate to the character. the marc I have in my head also doesn't practice Judaism anymore but Steven does so if the food headcanons leave you confused that's why. Also Tumbler decided it was too long so there will be a second part which annoys me but it is what it is.

Trigger warnings: child abuse, food, music, taking of his life, Military service, and training. NSFW stuff about puberty. That's all I can think of.

childhood

• He is uncomfortable with staring. When Wendy wasn't physical, she would go nonverbal and stare a hole into the back of his head until he would get out of her sight whether it be him running up to his room or getting on his bike and riding to the park.

it wasn't just his birthday that Wendy wouldn't join or get drunk and blame him again. It was every holiday and the anniversary of his brother's death. It even expanded into Wendy going off on him if he was visibly enjoying himself. It has caused him to curb his enthusiasm about things and not want to celebrate holidays.

Bathing/showering was hard for him to get back into after the accident. The spray and the sound of the shower would give him flashbacks to when the cave was filling up. Baths would give him the same flashbacks. It took him months to get to a place where he could clean himself and get out fast enough that it wouldn't send him spiraling. He still showers fast to this day. He doesn't like the sound of rain either.

He has to be quiet. If he was quiet then, he could be in his room and read or play a little bit with his toys. He walks quietly too or won't make much noise still. He accidentally sneaks up on people because of it.

Wendy wasn't hostile all the time, and on those days he would let Steven front unless he wanted the day to himself but that would be very rare. He always tried to protect Steven and take the brunt of it.

He doesn't trust himself to cook, mainly because Wendy would snatch whatever pan or utensil out of his hand and told him that he didn't need to ruin anything else in the house. His dad found out it happened so he would get things for the microwave or have Marc wait until he could cook dinner for the two of them. He only knows how to cook two things.

After his brothers Shiva and Wendy's outbursts, their family members quit hanging around. He would rarely get to see his dad's mom who was the only other woman figure that treated him warmly.

His dad made him go to Hebrew school. He didn't get a bar mitzvah either. His dad would make him go to the temple but after he turned 15 his dad quit asking or making him. He could see Marc lose his faith.

He and his dad would watch replays of Cubs and Bears games late at night as Wendy was sleeping. It was the only time his dad could show affection to him as well. Mostly a hair ruffle or a shoulder squeeze.

Marc was able to do enough to be passing in school, He didn't make friends after everything with his brother and Steven showing up. He couldn't risk spending the night or hanging out and switching. He spent most of his time at the park walking around or reading or drawing sometimes. 

(warning his edgy phase) He was at the park one day and saw a couple of goth kids walk by. He went to the library and looked up what he saw on their shirts and was hooked for a while. He wore mainly black and painted his nails until the bottle ran out. He got a long black coat and a choker too at the thrift store but the choker fell apart a week after he bought it. He tried to dye his hair and give himself streaks but his dad talked him out of it in fear of what Wendy would do to him. 

He would listen to The Cure, Nine Inch Nails, Bauhaus, the sisters of Mercy, Depeche Mode, HIM, Deftones, pearl jam, Alice in Chains, Nirvana, foo fighters, smashing pumpkins, L7, Bush, Incubus, Kittie, slipknot, Korn, Mudvayne, a system of a down, limp bizkit, linkin park, disturbed, Alanis morissette, Green day, he even listened to the cradle of filth and cannibal corpse for a while. 

He used to wear eyeliner. It was only in his waterline but Wendy found the nub of it he had left and threw it away. He didn't rebuy it when he found it in the trash. 

He has a fondness for bugs and the ducks and other waterfowl at the park he was at all the time. He use to draw them with an ink pen.

As a kid during the summer, he used to hide and sneak away from the house during block parties. He would set off fireworks and go trick-or-treating with the neighborhood kids then. They let Marc hang out with them cause they knew what happened to his brother and they didn't mind too much Marc was quiet the whole time. 

Marc had a hyper fixation with sharks. It started with him thinking it could help with his water phobia it didn't but he thinks they're cool creatures and knows a bunch of fun facts about them.

When he was a teenager a girl named Hannah asked him over for help with homework. He generally thought she wanted help. She didn't

He loves adventure and horror books. Stephen King and Jules Verne are two of his favorite authors. He also read Jumanji multiple times as a kid and watched the movie multiple times when that came out

(Puberty stuff ahead) when he started to get pubes he didn't understand why hair grew there cause he didn't talk to his mom or dad so he always shaved it off. He would usually nick or cut himself but got better over time. He didn't realize he could trim or grow it out until he watched porn.

When he explored his body for the first time he had to learn how to be completely silent. He went online and learned how to choke himself so he could be quiet. Over time with partners, he learned he didn't have to do that but sometimes he craves having a hand around his throat. 

Kissed his pillow as practice. He froze the first time a girl kissed him. All that practice went out the window. 

Picked at his skin when he had acne. Still does from time to time but Steven and Jake usually have the most consistent skin routine which lessons it. 

Cucumber melon and lip smackers send him back to high school and middle school. He always thought they were nice smells/tastes. If you wear those around him he definitely would give kisses throughout the day or kiss the gloss/chapstick off. He will smell and or sniff you when he hugs or cuddles you. 

Marc used to wear his shoes out so badly that the souls at the bottom would tear off or his toe would poke through the top. He didn't get brand new shoes until his military shoes and after that. He usually would wear what he could find at thrift stores with the money he got from mowing lawns in the summer. 

From the age of 14-18, Marc would mow lawns during the summer for money. He would go wash off at a truck stop cause he didn't want his room or parts of the house to smell like grass and give Wendy another thing to yell at him for. It usually cooled him off during the summer anyway. 

Before Marc left for the military at 18. He mowed a new neighbor's yard for her during one summer. He didn't understand why she would stare at him until later in life. He doesn't know how to take it to this day. 

Marc was a very awkward flirt at first. Hannah had to teach him how. He was very thankful for it. 

During middle school, he got a girl he had a crush on a sticker she wanted for her collection. She kissed his cheek in return. It made him noticeably flush a shade darker. He still will flush that deep if you kiss his cheek. 

Marc used to steal his dad's cologne and wear it. It was Old Spice. Kids at school would say he smelled old but he liked it anyway.

He bought his bike from a thrift store

Constantly fixed flats with duct tape.

  He used to visit and just sit at Randall's grave. It usually ended with him sobbing saying sorry and telling Randall what their mom would do to him. Eventually, it got to the point where Marc would eat lunch or just sit there after. The groundskeeper would give Marc pop during the summers. 

 Before almost shooting himself in Khonshu's temple. Marc tried jumping off a bridge as a teenager but couldn't do it; he was too scared to end up in the water below. 

Space is a hyper fixation for him along with sharks and baseball trivia. He used to collect baseball cards as a kid. 

Use to spend time in a comic book store and read TMNT comics and other superhero comics. He also used to try and watch Saturday

Morning cartoons before his parents woke up. He got to see a couple of episodes of TMNT, Thundercat's, Transformers, Jem and Holograms, sailor moon, gargoyles, and Gi joe if he was lucky. 

Had crushes on Demona, Pumyra, Jem, Sailor Mars, and April O'Neil

calmer headcannons

he listens to "newer" bands like sleep token, I don't know how but they found me, fallout boy, my chemical romance, and Lorna Shore as he works out. 

His music Tastes got expanded when he was in the military due to his fellow soldiers. 

He didn't have very many video games. He didn't get his game system until his housing after the military. Resident Evil and Silent Hill are some of his favorites. 

Marc didn't realize he and Steven were on the spectrum until the military and their assessments of him. He just thought he was weird

He's decent at masking and learned how to hide his fidgeting. He likes fidget toys he can squeeze or rub. It helps his need to be quiet and helps him focus or gives him something else to do when he's overstimulated. 

He's had a few meltdowns when a schedule has changed out of nowhere or when a spot he likes gets crowded with people. 

Has texture issues with shirts and blankets. If they're not cotton or just soft he won't use them. If he has no other choice he will be very grumpy. 

He zones out big time but it's only when he is comfortable other than that he's on high alert

He likes flying and doing parkour in the suit. Gets adrenaline filled easily after. 

Marc sleeps on his side and cuddles a pillow.

Sneezes loud and takes him a minute to function after

Refused to wear sunscreen and had to be broken out of it. (He got a really bad burn and learned his lesson.) 

Knows first aid and CPR. 

[blossomwritesthings]

Oooh, okay.

Idk if this is okay but I'm going to shoot my shot.

Can you please do either yandere bang chan or lee know (you can pick).

Fluff+ smut+ angst

The reader is starting to become unhappy and lee know or bang chan uses sex as a way to 'take care of them?'

Thank you 👍🏻👍🏻

𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞

pairing: chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: slightyandere!chan. idol!chan. hurt/comfort. angst. slight fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ ONLY. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. this one's got the angst lmao. some mild fluff (i think??). reader is experiencing burnout from work/feeling unhappy and depressed. chan knows what's going on and wants to help. pet names (baby girl, babe, etc.). smut warnings below cut!!

word count: 4.8k

summary: recently, life's been feeling rather dull for you. and with you getting caught into the trap of doing the same daily grind, it's up to your boyfriend chan to shake you from your cloud of unhappiness and try and heal your exhausted heart.

18+ warnings: unprotected sex (stay safe out there, guys!). dirty talk. top!reader. soft!dom/sub/switch undertones. making out. strength kink. manhandling. praise kink. nipple/breast play. riding (cowgirl style, baby 🤪!!). slight sub-space. scratching.

a/n: okay, so i might've gone a little ham on this one, but IN MY DEFENSE- chan is just so fucking hot lmao. and the idea of actually getting to top him for once??? when he's usually a leaning dom in bed?? yeah, the brain isn't computing and is instead melting atm. 🫠 hope you like this one, and that it's to your liking, @whatudowhennooneseesyou... thanks for requesting (and sorry for the late posting haha, uni has been a total bitch this semester)!! 💕

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

The headache came onto you like a literal bitch that night. You tried your hardest to focus on the work that was laid out before you on your desk, but it was hard to concentrate when your temples were throbbing with pain. 

 It felt like someone had taken hold of your skull, and was squeezing the very life out of it. 

 A deep sigh fled from your lips as you stared down at the project you had been working on for the past two months. It was due to be submitted to your manager in the next week, and everything about your job hinged on you getting it right. It was a report on all of your past work for the entire year, and it was of the utmost importance that you got all of the facts correct. 

 You hated that you were working so late into the night, but there was no way to avoid it. Since you started on the project, it had been full speed ahead. You hadn’t taken a single break from the work and even committed every waking second of your weekends to it. 

 This, of course, put your relationship with your boyfriend Chan into jeopardy - on somewhat of a hold. 

 Sure, he was just as busy as you, and would usually stay up with you most nights working on his projects, but things were just… different for him. 

 He was doing what he loved. He was staying up late into the night to create things that he adored. 

 Whereas, you were barely scraping by. Barely surviving through this stupid project. 

 But you kept telling yourself, every day that you awoke from a restless sleep, that it was just a little bit longer. 

 Just a little bit longer, and then everything would be okay. 

 Just a little bit longer, and then you’d feel happy again. 

 Because honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you had let yourself go - let your mind wander away from the constant stress of work - and indulge in some true, unadulterated joy. 

 The days seemed to pass by in a blur, folding into one another and forming a huge lump that just spelled unhappiness. 

 It was honestly really fucking depressing, to wake up every day and not feel the zest for life that you once did. You used to love your job. It used to be your entire personality, the thing that kept you going for such a long time. 

 But you didn’t quite remember the moment when it had stopped feeling that way, and instead felt like something that was slowly sucking the life right out of you. 

 You tried to keep your unhappiness hidden from Chan as best as you could. Since he already had to deal with so many unhappy people in his life; managers, members, family, and especially fans. Plus, he tended to unnecessarily worry for you whenever you’d fall into such dark holes of bleakness. 

 It had happened before… twice, to be exact. 

 Once, when you had just started dating, and then another time well into your relationship. 

 Chan had taken it all in stride and helped you get yourself back on track, but this time… 

 This time just felt so much different. 

 You were seriously at a loss for what to do. 

 On the one hand, you didn’t want to stop working at your job. It had been your livelihood for so long, and you feared how its absence would make you feel if you decided to quit. 

 But on the other hand, the constant drainage, the constant stress, and the slowly growing depression and unhappiness weren’t a burden you could bear for much longer. 

 Even still, you had to finish your project. 

 If you didn’t, you had no idea what would happen. 

 And your manager was a stickler about deadlines. 

 If you even submitted projects an hour over the deadline, you got an astute scolding from him. 

 Trying to clear your mind from your useless worries, you began to focus back on the work at hand, your eyes scrolling down the enormous sheets of paper that you had filled out earlier that day at work. You turned back to your laptop to begin searching for your next topic of research when your eyes caught on your screensaver. 

 It was a picture a passing stranger had taken - upon request - for you and Chan when the two of you had visited the nearby mountains as a Christmas weekend getaway in the year prior. The two of you were beaming in the photo, with Chan’s arms firmly wrapped around your waist and you leaning into his hold, pressing a gentle kiss against his cheek. 

 You swallowed at the sight of it all. At your blatant happiness. 

 And you couldn’t even remember the last time you two had done such a thing- the last time you had gone on a date. 

 It had been well over two months, ever since you started on your big project. 

 Just thinking about that, about the fact that this odd… distance had suddenly grown between you two, only forced the solid pit in your stomach to widen. 

 But looking at the bright screen only seemed to worsen your headache in the end, so you deemed it okay to call it a night. It was Friday, so you’d have plenty of time to continue your work for the rest of the weekend. 

 Folding up your binder filled with papers and scraps, you shoved everything - including your work laptop - into your bag that was thrown onto the floor nearby. Standing up from your desk chair after what felt like hours of being hunched over in the same position, you immediately felt relief in your spine from the stretch of being upright. 

 You filed out of your home office then, the one that you and Chan shared in your apartment. The living room/kitchen lights were all switched off, indicating that Chan had already come home and was probably working in bed. 

 And sure enough, as you closed your bedroom door behind you with a mild click, you saw your boyfriend sitting on his side of the bed, laptop and mechanical keyboard open as he worked away at producing. 

 His eyes flitted up to you at your approach near the bed. “Hi, baby girl,” he said, voice low from not being used in so long. 

 You offered him a weak smile, the exhaustion beginning to take over at the mere sight of your bed. But no, you had to take a shower. That’d surely help your head feel better. “Hi… I was about to take a shower. Wanna join?” You asked, already stripping yourself of your blue denim jeans. 

 Chan rose an eyebrow your way, his curly, dark brown hair hanging low in front of his eyes. “Yeah, sure, just give me a minute to finish up here.” He finally said, focusing back on his laptop once more. 

 Saying nothing more, you stepped into the adjoining bathroom to prepare the shower. Your head hurt from the stark, hospital-white lights of the bathroom, so you decided to light a few of the candles that you had placed around the room, to give some nice ambient lighting to everything.

 You two hadn’t done such a thing - showered together - in quite a while. Which was why you assumed your boyfriend had given you such a peculiar look at your offer. 

 But, at that moment, you realized that you needed him. 

 Needed to feel him close, under the hot water, if only just for a few minutes. 

 Maybe then, all of the fears and concerns of your life would wash away. With the suds and liquid. 

 In no time at all, you had the water warmed up and were standing under its delicate spray, combing a few fingers through your hair and massaging at your temples. Already, the heat was a great help to soothing the pain that radiated across your skull. 

 You heard movement just off to the side of the shower then, and your eyes cracked open as Chan was stepping in behind you. Immediately, the water was running down in rivulets across his skin, trekking down the smoothe plain of his chiseled abs. 

 You stayed silent and turned around so that your back was to him as he was closest to the spout now.

 “You got a headache?” He asked, voice smooth and gracing across your ears against the sound of the water running between you. He knew you so well. Knew that whenever you’d turn on the bathroom candles, it meant your head wasn’t in the right space. 

 “Yeah… got it from work,” you began, leaning down and grabbing your coconut-scented shampoo bottle. “I’m sure it’ll go away after this shower.” 

 “Here, let me…” Chan said, suddenly taking the bottle from your grasp. You stood completely still, spine going rigid at the feeling of his hands beginning to rake through your locks, the subs of the shampoo weighing down your hair. “Work’s that stressful, huh?” 

 “You’re telling me.” You groaned in displeasure, closing your eyes against the feeling of his practiced fingers running across your scalp. He hadn’t washed your hair in such a long time, it felt somewhat foreign to you. “I just wanna be done with this project already. It’s so fucking stressful.” 

 Your boyfriend was silent for a few beats, as he tipped your head back and washed the shampoo out of your locks. “You’ve been so busy lately... sometimes, I think your schedule’s even more packed than mine.” Chan finally mused, laughing soon after. But it wasn’t full of mirth. Instead, it was dry and humorless. 

 Because there wasn’t anything funny about your situation; about your unhappiness, or your coming burnout, or your growing depression. 

 “At times, I wonder if I should even keep working at this job…” You started, feeling Chan begin to massage the paired conditioner into your hair neck. “But then I remember why I started and how it would make me feel if I left, so I always end up staying.” 

 “But how does it make you feel when you continue to stay?” 

 That threw you for one. 

 You weren’t expecting such a serious question from him. 

 And all at once, the floodgates were opened. 

 The first thing to unleash from deep inside of you were the tears. They ran down your cheeks hard and fast, before being washed away with the shower’s water. 

 You wiped at your eyes helplessly, breath hitching painfully in your throat. “I don’t even know why I stay- it’s so fucking exhausting and stressful. I-I just can’t take it anymore.” You mumbled, miserably holding your face in your hands. 

 Chan had stopped his washing and was slowly turning you around then. His fingers found yours, and slowly pulled them away from your warm-cheeked face. “Hey, it’s alright, baby girl… no one’s forcing you to stay there.” 

 “Yeah, but if I leave, I’ll lose such a big part of myself.” 

 “But maybe, you need to put that part of you to rest. To bury it in the past.” 

 You stared up at him through blurry eyes, your chest rising and falling with your uneven breaths. The tears were still flowing, unbidden, down your cheeks. “I… I’m just so lost, Chan. I don’t know what’s the right decision anymore.” 

 He leaned into you then, gently pressing his heated forehead against yours. “Well, you don’t have to make a decision just yet. But… I just want you to be happy again, yeah? I wanna see that spark in your eyes come to life, like before.” 

 Your eyes widened slightly at that. So, he had noticed everything. But of course, he had- he was just so perceiving that way. “Y-You… how did you know that I’m unhappy?” You blurted out, still taken aback by his words. 

 He tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, “I’ve always known, baby girl. You can’t hide anything from me… I just know you too well.” 

 “Then… why didn’t you say anything?” 

 Chan shrugged, canting his head to the side in thought, “I don’t know, I guess… I wanted to give you some space. It seemed like you needed it, to work through your feelings. I didn’t want to be too overbearing and stuff, since I worried that that would make you even more overwhelmed. But- I realize now that I shouldn’t have done that. Should’ve talked to you about everything, before you fell too far.” 

 “It’s not your fault,” you said, reaching up and abruptly pressing a faint kiss to his lips, “It was my decision not to tell you how I felt about everything. I’m sorry, I should’ve communicated better.” 

 He gave you a tiny, satisfied smile then, pecking you right back. “Well, we’re communicating now, so that’s all that matters, right?” 

 You nodded slowly, and silence fell between the two of you again. You bent down and captured his bottle of shampoo in your hands. Without saying anything, you began to run the woodsy-smelling liquid through his hair, marveling at the way the familiar scent took over your entire body, throwing you into a bout of strong nostalgia. 

 “Missed you… so much.” You found yourself saying after having helped him rinse out the lathered subs. 

 Chan’s eyes softened exponentially then, as they seemed to glow in the liquid-gold candlelight of the bathroom. He looked down at you with a peaceful smile curling the corners of his mouth. “I missed you too… every single second, of every single day.” He reached out, hands fitting around either of your hips and pulling you flush to his bare body. 

 He bent down into you, pressing soft kiss after soft kiss to your mouth. You smiled between every one of them, closing your eyes at the way that his mouth pressed against yours in a perfect, exquisite kind of way. 

 Then suddenly, he was gripping you tight, hoisting you up into the air and pressing your back into the cool tile of the shower wall. You glanced up at him, eyes widened slightly in surprise at his quick movement. 

 “You gonna let me take care of you, baby girl?” He muttered against your lips, mouth beginning to pull away from yours and trail around your face with faint pecks. 

 “Take care how?” You asked, breath hitching in the middle of your chest. A moan threatened to spill out of you from the way that his plump lips gently pressed around your face. 

 Chan’s fingers kneaded at the skin of your waist, with the scalding water falling around you, slicking your bodies together. Leaning into you with a sly smirk plastered on his face, his tongue darted out, tracing around the line of your lips, before prying your mouth open and tasting you. He tasted of warm, comforting black coffee and sugary toffee- just like how you had remembered. 

 When you broke apart to catch your breaths, Chan finally spoke, “I was thinking about…” You felt his hands move away from your hips as the words came out, his fingers sinking into the plushness of your ass. “My cock in your beautiful, aching pussy… haven’t felt you in a while, been missing it all…” 

 Your eyes widened at his confession. The two of you hadn’t been intimate with each other in… well, with you being so caught up with work and everything, you honestly couldn’t remember the last time you had given in to your deepest wants and needs. 

 But all at once, you already knew the answer to his unspoken question. Because yes- you had been thinking about your boyfriend in that way, for a long time. Without even realizing it. In the dead of night, when you were so very exhausted from work, you had imagined him and his radiant face and dark eyes, as he slid his hands down your body, loving you in all the right places. 

 “Yes, please… yes.” You begged in a breathy tone. Chan’s mouth was on yours after that, kissing and licking, as he wrapped both of your legs around his torso and peeled you away from the shower’s wall. 

 Words didn’t need to be spoken between the two of you, as he moved to turn the water off with you tightly grasped in his arms. And in no time at all, he had the both of you dried off and had blown out the many candles in the bathroom. Soon, he was leading you to your bed with its messy sheets and duvet comforter.

 Your boyfriend laid you atop the cushy foam mattress, helping to gently rest your head atop a pillow. “Where do you want me, love?” He asked, lips pulling away from yours, a hot string of saliva stretching between the two of you. 

 You swallowed down a moan at the absence of his plush mouth against yours, feeling the rising desire inside of you pooling in your cheeks with a pink flush. “I-I don’t know, just… just love me.”

 He nodded slowly, lips beginning to trail down the column of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your clavicle, before sucking on the tender flesh there. “Now that, I can surely do.” He finally answered as he continued to move atop you. He had you encased underneath him, with either of his strong legs resting on the sides of your hips. 

 Chan dipped his mouth close to one of your exposed breasts, kissing the puckered skin there. One of his hands grasped onto your waist, while the other played with your nipple that wasn’t currently getting kissed by him. 

 “C-Chan,” you breathed out, squirming underneath your boyfriend at the way that his gaze locked with yours. At the way his eyes flooded with dark, heated desire as his mouth came over your nipple, swiping his tongue across it before taking as much of your breast between his teeth as he could. “Feels so fucking good.” Moaning, you squeezed your eyes shut at the feel of his teeth lightly tugging at you, at the way his fingers were kneading your chest so perfectly. 

 His tongue drew away from you then, a smirk brightening his sharp features. “You feel so amazing, baby girl,” he whispered, as his mouth came over to meet your other mound - the one that wasn’t coated in a thick helping of wetness from him. “Love you so much… fucking adore your tits.”

 Your mouth fell open as he began to taste you once more, pushing and pulling against your hardened nub. The moans escaped from that deep place inside of you, and you pressed your legs together as the slick slowly dripped out of you. 

 After he was seemingly satisfied with riling you up just from the breast worship alone, Chan yanked his mouth away from your chest and found your lips once more in a passionate kiss. You could feel him press in between your legs, his growing length just straining to feel some type of friction - some kind of release. 

 “Do you want me to stretch you ou-” He began in a quiet, deep voice, but was quickly stopped by the way that you suddenly gripped onto his muscular forearms, nails digging into the skin there. 

 “No- no more foreplay,” you managed to ground out through clenched teeth. You hadn’t realized how needy you were for him, but all at once, you were aching to feel him inside of you - and his continuing with the foreplay by stretching you out with his fingers wasn’t going to cut at that moment. You needed him right then, and you couldn’t wait any longer. “Just want you inside of me already.” 

 His eyes flashed with surprise at your confession. The two of you hadn’t been intimate in quite a long time, so your words must’ve thrown him for one. After all, he always wanted to make you feel good and safe - and jumping right into the fucking usually wasn’t his style. He liked to take things nice and slow. Keep it sensual and loving, all at once. 

 “Okay, then I guess I’ll-”

 “Wanna ride you, babe.” You practically whined, peering up at him with big eyes. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, as you desperately clawed at the skin of his arms. Your core was dripping so much, you felt it run down your legs and moisten the sheets underneath you. You hadn't been so needy in... you couldn't even remember when. But all you knew was that it had been a long time since you were so desperate for his cock.  

 And immediately at your words, you felt Chan harden between you. A sardonic smile widened his mouth. And without saying anything else, he was tightly holding onto you and moving on the bed so that you were the one on top. With your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips, you nestled down into his lap, feeling Chan’s legs come up and bend behind you to offer some support. 

 “Take it easy, yeah?” He said in that gravelly voice of his that only came out in the bedroom. His hands came up to grab at your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there as you rose slightly to position yourself over him. “Just take things slow… don’t want my baby girl to get hurt.” Your boyfriend was worried that something would go wrong since the two of you hadn’t done such a thing in quite a while. But you were fucking dripping with want, so you knew that it would be an easy slip. 

 Nevertheless, instinct took over your entire body, as you lined yourself up to his red, swollen head that was dripping with precum. Then, in a single breath, you were sliding down the length of him ever so slowly, savouring the way that he filled you up so completely. 

 You leaned down into him, palms resting against his warm, muscular chest. “Fuck- I love you so much,” you groaned out, biting down hard on your bottom lip as you began to rise up and down on him, loving the way that he helped your movements with the strong grip he had on your waist. 

 “Missed you,” he grunted out, meeting you halfway and thrusting up into you. The tip of him hit that sensitive, gooey spot deep inside of you, and you all but melted on top of him, clutching at the sweat-slick skin of his pecs. “Missed this- cock buried in your lovely, tight pussy.” 

 Throwing your head back, with your eyes screwed tightly shut, you let out a string of moans. Your hips met together with every other breath you took, as you felt him stretch out your walls in a flawless, languid kind of way. “C-Chan, I… I-” You failed to find the words on your tongue when you distantly felt one of his hands leave your hips, traveling to the front of you. 

 In no time at all, he had a finger pressed against you, finding your tender clit and rubbing delicate circles there. This spurred on your movements, as you straddled his waist and rode his cock in a rabid kind of heat- like it was the first time you had done it. “That’s right, baby girl…use me, like you’ve always wanted to. Use my cock for your very own pleasure…” He grunted out, pressing down harder on the swollen bundle of nerves between your widened, trembling legs. 

 His cock reached so far up into you, it felt like you were about to break from the sheer size and speed of it all. Your legs began to shudder with fatigue, and your hands desperately clutched at his shoulders as you felt your release rising from deep within you. 

 “Chan… I’m gonna-” You gasped, eyes suddenly wide open as you stared down at him. You took in the sight of his face - at the way his chocolate-brown locks curled around his damp forehead, at the way his red lips were kiss swollen and his dark pupils were blown wide with so much lust. 

 He continued to circle a finger around your enflamed clit, veiny arms helping to raise you up and down on his length, his free hand digging into the flesh at your hip. “That’s right, baby girl… want to use my cock to cum? Do it. I wanna see your pretty, little cunt quiver and shake and milk me fully.” 

 His filthy words were the thing that finally tipped you over the edge, throwing you across the side of the cliff. Your entire body began to vibrate with your release, and you squeezed your eyes shut at the feeling of fire lighting down your backbone. The blood rushed through your veins, the slick pouring out of you as Chan continue to thrust up into you as he chased his high. 

 You screamed out his name again and again, along with a string of curses. You had stopped moving atop him, letting his large hands control your entire body and move you across his hardened cock. Letting him manhandle your body to his liking like you were his very own sex doll. He had said you could use him, and you had. But in the end, he was the one to use you. In your blissed, fuck-out state, you distantly felt him stiffen up inside of you, just as he found his release as well. 

 Still gripping onto his proud shoulders, your nails scraped across his skin there as you felt his heat erupt within you, coating your walls in sticky whiteness. The entire time he came down from his high, Chan was spewing words of praise- all directed at you. “Love you so much- love your body, your mind, your soul…” He continued to say over and over again in that strained, husky voice of his. 

 And finally, when the shaking in your limbs stopped and your heart had begun to beat at a normal pace once more, you relaxed into your boyfriend, resting your head against his bare chest. His softened cock was still nestled between your walls, but you didn’t care- if anything, it only made the cuddling more intimate. 

 He wrapped two arms around your torso, holding you close to him and leaving light pecks atop your messy head of hair. “You know, I still haven’t forgotten about your work predicament…” He started in a quiet tone, making you look up at him with a frown. “But for now, let’s just forget about it and focus on sleeping, yeah?” 

 You felt the tiny smile erupt across your face before you were even registering what was going on. Leaning up into him, you pressed a gentle kiss against his puffy-pink mouth. “Honestly, I like the sound of that,” you giggled, carding a few fingers through his curly locks. “But, shouldn’t we like, get cleaned up?” You rose an eyebrow his way, surprised that he wasn’t wanting to get up and clean everything, since he usually liked to do so right after sex. Keep things sanitary and healthy, and all that jazz...

 Chan shook his head slowly, “Nah, that shit can wait until later… but for now, I just wanna fall asleep with my baby girl in my arms.” He nestled his nose against yours, before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. 

 “Okay… me too.” You finally admitted before you rested your head against his chest once more. He still made no move to pull out of you, and you didn’t mind. The cockwarming was something the two of you hadn’t done in a long time, and it felt familiar and nice and loving, so you weren’t complaining one bit. 

 The two of you lay there in silence, his Chan running gentle fingers through your hair, and you listening to the steady beat of his heart just underneath your ears. 

 And even though you hadn’t found the answers to your predicament yet, 

 And the future was still looking rather uncertain, 

 Right then, you could care less about the worries of everything else in your life. 

 Because for once in what felt like a very long time, you were feeling whole again. 

 Happy, 

 Content, 

 And most of all… loved. 

 All because the man lying underneath you, 

 Because of the one who had quickly slipped into a deep sleep, 

 Because of the one who was still slick with sweat and wetness from your lovemaking, 

 Because he had helped you through it all. 

 Your very own boyfriend Chan had helped to make you feel better - to take away all of your anxiety and the uncertain thoughts running through your head. 

And all at once, as you lay there on top of his warm, comforting chest, 

 As the shadows of sleep threatened to take over you from the corners of your vision, 

 You realized that your headache had disappeared. 

 As soon as Chan had his arms around you earlier, while underneath the hot water of the shower, the throbbing in your head dissipated. 

 Because that’s how it had always been; with him right by your side, hugging and kissing and loving all of the pain away. 

 Fin. 

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