#i can think about that more once i finish my wips though

[quil12]

Tell me why this chapter is literally over 20 pages and almost 7k words and I'm not even done with it...

[suga-kookiemonster]

ctrl-alt-del | jjk (teaser)

summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader teaser word count⇢ 1.4k genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ nothing too bad for this teaser! just a mention of oral

a/n⇢this fic has literally been sitting in my wips for YEARS lmao. i feel like it's finally time to set it free 🕊️✨ it's looking like it's gonna lean more towards pwp, but there's definitely still enough plot in there to keep it interesting. not sure when it will be up, but wanted to share a snippet to get your thoughts and get myself excited to finish the last leg--fingers crossed for the next month or so 🤞🏾🙌🏾💜

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

You’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every couple of weeks, the company sponsors an employee barbecue were everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though as sweet as can be, she has no filter, and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in some situations where you found it inappropriate. Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate (instead of your measly Assistant)means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started, and she is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing.).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards speaking about inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue buttonup. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up. 

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you ask, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. The rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy informs you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching him run back and forth across the grass.

[luludeluluramblings]

dream team back. we’re currently yapping central again (per usual)

both of us are straight up in a tim drake brainrot spiral too!!! he’s a delightful little weirdo. a strange little gentleman if you will.

tim is such a funny little guy!!! he also makes a solid yandere. you can’t outsmart him. you can’t escape someone who can find everything about you. On the upside, I feel like he’d be happy to spoil his darling. also he’d be like, really considerate in weird ways??? I mean like you don’t get privacy (or you get the illusion of it maybe but not actual privacy.)

like yeah you’re always being watched in some way, but the man has committed every single one of your favorites and least favorites to memories. He knows what clothing you like, what specific features you look for in everything, and if he doesn’t, by god, will he learn. He knows your favorite song, and he knows the nickname you went by in elementary school.

Do you think he pretends to be normal and basically sets things up to send reader to be like a little love story?? You meet by chance, and he fell first. He fell a LONG time ago, so now it’s his mission to make you fall too. And Tim Drake ALWAYS finishes a mission. (Even as a baby daddy candidate). He makes himself the best option, even if he’s not the father.

Yandere!TimDrake x PastFriend!Reader x Aiden Cobblepot

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sooooo, I'm finally and slowly going through my ask box and you two may have sparked an idea just for Tim. I might have to do a Part Two for this. (I'm falling into the WIP trap. Help!) But, I love the thought of the Bat Family have competition when it comes to their darling. Gives them a challenge. Plus, I really wanted to use Aiden Cobblepot for this. I've been wanting to sneak him into something.

A/N: We have neglected!Sib!Reader, but what about a Neglected!Friend!Reader? Fun idea. Tim already knowing everything about you only to find you’ve changed and wants to study you all over again. Only this time he’s keeping you! (I’m very fond of Tim. I think he’s difficult to write for me, but I enjoy the little stalker so much.)

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Romantic themes, Tim can be read as kinda platonic, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You and Tim were once good friends. Well, he was your best friend. To him you were just a good one. High school buddies that would hang out all the time. At school only. And sometimes the rare gala you saw him at. It was rare you ever actually went to The Manor. You never asked to go. But, you had hoped to be invite.

Just like you had hoped that he might reciprocate that pesky crush you had on him back then. You had felt like it was so painfully obvious. Though it wasn't as painful when you finally figured out he was Red Robin and you waited and waited for him to tell you his secret identity. And, then you would tell him you already figured it out and you would look so cool.

Only, he never did. You both grew distant. You had put so much carful effort into keeping that distance from growing. Inviting him to hang out more. Asking him out for casual coffee. He always said the same thing.

"Oh, damn. I could really go for that right now. But, I'm just sorta busy. Next time though. For sure."

Over and over. He sounded like a broken character. Repeating the same phrase. One that you would hang around after the game was over to reminisce about all the fun adventures you both once had. However this was life not a game. You couldn't just restart and rerun the same adventures.

It made you ache when you finally moved on. When you finally pulled away. Because, Tim didn't even notice you were gone. His life to change. He didn't have to restart anything. You had lost your best friend and he didn't even care. It stung. It stung more than you realizing he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

But, like all things, time moves on and so do you. Leaving the past behind and starting a new game. One that you start to flourish in. Making new friends. Meeting new people. Building closer bonds and more healthy friendships. It had been interesting to realize how dependent you had been on Tim once upon a time. And, embarrassing. You can't help looking back on it with a wince. You almost want to reach out and apologize. But, that would be weird and you both live completely separate lives now. You hardly ever see him at galas now. Mostly because you don't go anymore.

Things, do change. You never expected your new partner would draw Tim's attention back to you. And, in such a terrible way.

You had a rough idea of what you were getting into when Aiden Cobblepot had asked you out to dinner. You figured he was only interested in you for your money or your half-decent looks or your family name and position. You had heard all the rumors about him, but still you went. Mostly, because you knew how dangerous he and his family were. And, you were… presently surprised.

He was a bit of an entitled asshole. But, he wasn't scared of getting dirty. You watched him lead you through the puddles of rain water and Gotham grim in the posh restaurant. He held more concern for you're clothing getting dirty than his, which were more expensive than yours. He paid for the date without flinching at the price. Encouraged you to try his own food from his plate. Talked about fond memories of the things he and his sister got up to as children while asking you about your own childhood.

Admittedly, you were easily seduced because after that the two of you became an item. You didn't even realize how official you were until he introduced you to his sister, Addison, and she was actually nice to you. Extremely nice. She did, however, threaten to kill you if you betrayed Aiden in any way, which was honestly fair enough.

Aiden and you were a bit on the opposite side of things, taste wise and morally wise. But, you both made it work. He continued his life of crime, but made no mention of it around you to keep you legally clean. You shared most of your life with him, letting him have a slight glimmer into normalcy. He liked to take you on fancy dates and show you a good time. You were happy to pull him inside just to spend personal time with each other. Of course, you both made compromises. Aiden had a taste for luxury, and you didn't mind indulging in it. Especially after you beat his ass multiple times in Mario cart. It was only fair you let him take you to a gala some point.

Little did you know that that was how Tim would come clawing and digging his way back into your life.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

For Tim seeing you again was like finding an old precious treasure. His life had gotten so difficult and complicate lately that just a reminded of all those old times was nice.

However, seeing you on the arms of the Penguin's son was a brutal wake up call. What were you doing? Had you hit your head? Was he blackmailing you? Drugging you? Everyone in Gotham could recognize the name Cobblepot and how dangerous they are. And, he remembers how smart you were so you couldn't have willing chose to be there. It's not logical.

For your safety, he reintroduces himself to you. Long time, no see. We should hang out some time and catch up. Only he means it. He can't let this happen. He can't let you fall in with a man like that. You're his friend. He'll win you over for your own sake. Ruin Cobblepot while he's at it because how dare he use you.

Even if you changed. Even if you don't smell the same. If your hair is different. If you dress different. Even if your very laugh had changed pitch, he knows you. And, if anything, he can just re-learn you all over again. It won't take long. He's done it all before. This time he'll savor though. This time he won't let you go as he pulls you back in. You were a good friend, this time he'll make you more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m starting to type up Part Three of Pregant!Reader, but I ended up coming up with another start to it with more drama that would be strictly for the BatBoys. The messed up drama in it sounds fun and challenging, but I won’t do it until I finish what I started with the blurbs I have planned included.

A/N: Smalltown!Meta!Reader Part Nine is going to take a while. I have big plans for it, but Pregnant!Reader is kinda outshining it.

A/N: I will post about the LoungeSinger!Reader and another idea I came up with that y’all might like that I’ll add to the concept list.

A/N: There’s a Tony Part Two coming, but it’s only halfway typed and still not that yandere-y. Need to fix that.

A/N: My asks box is full, so I’m gonna try to empty it, but I host Thanksgiving in my family and I’m also a Christmas nut, so I’m gonna be busy. (I have four Christmas trees in my house currently… But I’m not as bad as my in-laws! They had their trees up BEFORE Halloween.)

[thatbennybee]

ChordStriker!AU Q&A

I'm doing a bit of a Q&A about my ChordStriker!AU on insta after sharing this teaser WIP, so I figured I'd present some of the questions here! (Feel free to ask more btw!)

↓↓↓

Rock!Poppy

Q: "Is Poppy's family (Peppy & Viva) still with her since the Bergens didn't attack them?"

A: Peppy is with her, but he is confused/in mental decline like canon King Thrash was. Viva is missing. Poppy was old enough to remember her.

Q: "Will Viva play somewhat of a role in this AU?"

A: Yes, she's had a much bigger impact on Poppy's life, even till this day even though she's been missing for many years now. Poppy has never stopped looking for her.

Q: "Is King Peppy still a liar in your AU?"

A: Nah, he's normal. Sometimes hating him with my entire being is hard, so he gets to be a good dad this time. He's just not all there mentally so Poppy is more like his caretaker now.

Q: "Poppy's relationships don't last long because she gets bored... So how long is Branch going to last?"

A: The Rat Pack (Snack Pack) is wondering the same thing, but Poppy's never used the bf/gf/partner labels before meeting him which is strange... 👀

Q: "Does Poppy still party?"

A: She's a total party animal! Her parties are even more intense than a Pop Troll party since Rock Trolls are pretty extreme. LOL

---

Pop!Barb (Barbie)

Q: "What does Barb look like?"

A: For now, this is her design, it might change once I have time to draw her digitally.

Q: "Does this mean Barb has to go through the events of Trolls 1?"

A: Nope, Barb never befriends Bridget because they have never met. They have found a way to remain undetected in the forest. (Thanks to Branch’s constant nagging about safety)

Q: "How does Barb's gang look? Is there any significant differences in their dynamics?"

A: I haven't had time to finish them all, but here's some of them for now. There's more members of The Lunch Rush, but this is all I have for now!

Val Thundershock → Valentina Wondershock.

Only Queen Barbie calls her Val. She is very optimistic & loves to sing & dance! She's Barbie’s right-hand troll, BFFL & knows everything about her. They have a very... "close" relationship. ;] She's a popstar who's managed by Demo and loves to help make Pop Village a happier place.

Riff

He's a university student studying to be an engineer. He's very soft spoken, doesn't like to make a fuss and is probably the nicest guy around. He's quite close to Barbie and sees her as an older sister. He's actually on friendly terms with Branch. His favorite treat is lollipops. 🍭

Carol

But you can call her Carrie! Everyone does. She's a bit of a diva, loves to look good & dull things bore her. She will ignore anything that doesn't catch her eye, even trolls. Best to be looking your very best!

Sid Fret

Just call him Sid, no need to be so formal. He is every trolls dream guy and he knows it! He's a great roller derby racer and loves the attention trolls give him. Sure, he's a little self-absorbed, but he's a very loyal friend.

Demo

Not much has changed about Demo. He's perfect as he is <3 He's just a little more excitable & cutesy than before. He cares about Valentina a lot & they are very close friends.

Petra

She is the blueprint, she's the moment, she's everything. A model, actress, singer, you name it, she can do it. She's perfect... Who doesn't want to be her?

---

Branch

Q: "How different is Branch in this AU vs canon Branch?"

A: He is the same Branch essentially, just without the development he gains at the end of Trolls 1 & so-on. None of it occurred, so he is still grey, miserable & a recluse. He helped Barb to come up with a plan to keep everyone safe after nagging & warning her for ages, but after that, he returned to his bunker & is still not well-liked by the village.

Q: "Does she know Branch's whole past? If she does, what was her reaction?"

A: Not sure if you meant Barb or Poppy, so I'll answer for both. Barb—no. I don't think she'd ever find out, and she's also not the type to ask. Their personalities clash a bit too much, she stays out of his way like he asks her to.

For Poppy—I think it would come up naturally in conversation after a while when Branch feels more comfortable sharing. Poppy isn't the type to pry, but makes it clear that it's out of understanding, not a lack of caring. She can tell that he is closed off for a reason. She relates to that. I think she'd be beyond pissed once he told her, though.

Q: "Will Branch's brothers be in this?"

A: Yes, but Floyd will be getting the bigger role this time.

Q: "How quickly does Branch fall for Poppy? I'm sure the answer is yes, but is he happy?"

A: I'd say he's quite guarded in the beginning. He is cautious around her for the first few weeks, but he starts to come around once he picks up on Poppy being emotionally guarded herself.

Things move quickly once their walls come down around each other, & a mutual understanding is there. Poppy fell for him first. (At least, that's what Branch lets her believe, as it was love at first sight for him, but he'd never tell her that; she'd get a big head about it.)

[mebemilena]

 I take it and I eat it with a cherry on top

pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x fem Reader

summary:  you're the new cook of Queen Daenerys

A/N: i'm just exercising my writing skills. Sometimes my drafts and wips become comic books if i can convice the clients. Tittle from the song "Take a Bite", by Beabadoobee

PROMPT: "If your food is not good, i'll feed you to my dragons."

---

You and your big mouth. Some nasty comment about the Queen's personal cooks had brought you to this situation. "If your food is not good, i'll feed you to my dragons.", Daenerys had said, playfully and mischievous, which brought you to this moment.

You entered the throne room with a few maids, each of them carrying a tray with covered plates. As the Queen's new cook, you had tried to impress everyone with a few recipes of your own though you were confident in your talents, having cooked for your family and friends since you were a teen.

The Queen sat on her throne as the maids brought her the trays with the fresh cooked meals she'd try.  "Are you saying this is not real meat?", Daenerys looked confused, the taste still vivid on her tongue.

"Yes, your majesty.", you confirmed with a smile, proud of your work and satisfied with the glint of amusement in your Queen's eyes. Daenerys frowned for a moment.

"I know it's not usual. But these are healthy and will bring you strength. They hold the daily proteins you'll need in a good diet.", you offered her one more bite.

Daenerys looked at you in awe, a small smile slowly growing. "I like meat.", she said simply, but took the piece in your hand. "But i'm open to new experiences.", she ate it, savoring your new recipe. 

She invited Missandei and Sor Jorad to taste the goods you had prepared, but the man refused and made no effort to do it gently.

"Sir Jorah doesn't trust me, your grace. And i have no desire to change his mind.", you shrugged. "He might think i'd try to poison him.", you chuckled, not carying that the man could hear you.

Daenerys tried to sound a little more serious as she sat on her throne, this was a sensitive topic after all. "And what about poisoning me? A few had tried before.", she asked, defiant.

"I have no desire to poison you, my Queen.", you started, waving your hand like it was the most stupid thing one could do. "If i did, it wouldn't be through the food i happen to try before serving you, and in front of you.", you explained, taking small bites of the food on the table. 

It took you a minute to realize your own words. You and your big mouth.

Your answer got the Queen's attention, she was almost amused. Missandei watched your dialogue in deep curiosity while Sor Jorah seemed uneasy. "And how would you do it?", Daenerys asked, not a drop of fear in her voice.

You walked to her, approaching her seat and the small table by her side. With practiced manners, you prepared another plate of food. A slice of bread, a few fruits and a small globe of soup.

"I'd do it slowly.", you told her, holding the bottle with wine and filling her glass. "Both killing and loving demands patience, your majesty. If you give it all at once, it makes a mess.", you chuckled.

"So if I wished to poison you, mylady, I'd give you a few droplets everyday.", you handed her the glass, and Sir Jorah put his hand on the shaft of his sword.

Daenerys looked at you as she drank the wine slowly, hooked by the way you spoke, enchanted.

"You'd drink it in your wine, in our water. Eventually, you'd fall sick and I'd offer to take care of you only to keep poisoning you. You'd die slowly. It'd look like something natural, like some sad trick of destiny.  And nobody would ever be suspicious of me, the person who took such good care of you on your final days.", you finished, not exactly proud of your wisdom on the subject. 

Daenerys laughed, drinking more from her glass. "You shall live one more day."

Missandei let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and Sor Jorah frowned even more to you, cursing under his breath.

Daenerys trusted you, but what kept you alive for so long was that she liked you. You and your big mouth.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 7

This story is just coming right along. I've decided that it is split into three acts. The Arrangement, The Turn, and The Embrace. The first is about Steve adjusting to his new life. The second is thinking he needs to get out of the situation. And lastly the third is about finding acceptance and love with Eddie.

Yesterday for WIP Wednesday, I finished act 1. I figure if I pace this right, each act will be roughly ten chapters. But we'll see.

In this Eddie is sweet as always, Steve goes clothes shopping, and Chrissy misunderstands what Steve is trying to do.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

Steve woke up to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He looked at the clock on the nightstand blearily. It was a little after nine am.

The knocking began again and he got unsteadily to his feet and wandered over to the door. He opened it.

Behind the door was a porter. “My apologies for the rude awakening, sir. But this came for you, marked ‘Urgent’.”

In the porter’s hands was a small box. Steve nodded and took the box. He set it on the side table and grabbed his wallet. He tipped the porter and grunted his thanks before slamming the door.

He trotted back over to the bed and flopped face first back into his pillows.

The next time he awoke it was more naturally, and closer to 10:30am than 9am. He rolled over on his back with a sigh. He’d missed breakfast, but he didn’t mind. He was tired. Just the feeling of nothingness clung to his chest like a heavy blanket.

He sat up and spotted the box. He picked it up and padded over to the desk. He looked around it for a moment and to his delight he found a letter opener.

“Thank god, for fussy hotels,” he murmured as he used the letter opener to open the box. He set the letter opener down and then took the box over to the sofa. He loved comfy it was despite it being black in color.

He pulled at the packaging to reveal a pair of designer sunglasses. Steve smiled as he pulled it out. Eddie must have thought of it when he heard Steve’s message about his day. All the driving around he did.

He picked up the phone and called Eddie.

“Hey, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “Did you sleep well?”

“Nearly,” Steve said with a hint of smile in his tone. “I got this urgent package from this hot rich guy that the front desk just had to wake me up for.”

“Whoops!” Eddie said, chagrin. “I didn’t think it would get there until this afternoon, sweetheart.”

Steve laughed. “It’s okay, I was able to go right back to sleep. Even remembered to tip the porter.”

“All’s well that end’s well,” Eddie said softly.

They talked for a bit before Steve said, “Oh, I was meaning to ask you. I have something I wanted to send to you. Is there an address or something I can send it to, to make sure you get it?”

“Aww...little Canary,” Eddie teased back, “you don’t have to send me anything. I like buying you things.”

“Oh I know,” Steve replied. “But I think you’ll really get a kick out this one, though.”

“Sure thing, baby,” Eddie said. “I’ll talk to Chrissy and she’ll give you a call with the information. How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect, Eddie,” Steve murmured.

“What are your plans for today?”

Steve licked his lips as he thought about it. “Probably some clothes shopping now that I have this fancy black card to splash around.”

Eddie laughed. “You do that, baby. Just tell me which stores you’re going to so I can make sure they’re warned ahead of time about the card. Places like that are super weird about new people coming in with that kind of cash.”

“Ooh...” Steve said with a grimace. “Yeah, I saw that happen once. This woman had won the lottery or something and she came into the shop when I was there with my mom. The sales woman was absolute horrid to her and chased her out. My mom threw the newspaper on the counter and walked out. The front page had the picture of the woman and her three million dollar prize check. It was one of the few times I ever saw my mom do something remotely nice like that.”

After they hung up, Steve got up grabbed the box of truffles. He took a couple out to the box to eat while he gather up his things for a shower. He thought about hitting the gym again, but he wasn’t sure if the pink bitch was still here and he wanted to avoid her like the plague. And while he knew he could swim instead, he decided to take the day off.

Yesterday had been rough and he wanted to do a little bit of retail therapy.

Steve got dressed in his most high end clothing he had and made his way out to his car. Which he knew would be another indicator that he had come from money. His new wallet was designer, just like his new sunglasses.

He primped in the mirror a little to make sure every hair was in place and then he gathered all his stuff and made for his car.

He pulled up to the row of boutiques his mother used to frequent before she started getting her clothes from Paris and Milan. Steve personally thought these places had better quality stuff, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

He walked into the first boutique and looked around. He kept his sunglasses on until one of the sales women came up to him. Then he lifted him and set them on top of his head. He smiled at her brightly.

“Welcome to Le Chique!” she said cheerily. “How can I help you today?” She was dressed smartly in a knee length pencil skirt and cream silk blouse. She wore high heeled pumps and had her hair pulled back into a tight bun.

“Hi,” Steve greeted back. “I’m just looking to update my wardrobe. Get a little more of an adult style.”

He could see the fucking dollar signs lit up behind her eyes. She clapped her hands together and rubbed them greedily.

“Right this way,” she said, waving her arm in front of her and Steve stepped forward, further into the store. “I’m Olivia and I’ll be happy to assist you today.”

Steve tried on so many clothes he thought his head was going to spin. But never once did Olivia falter. He finally got an updated look. It was similar to what he usually wore with the jeans and polos. But he also got button down shirts and tailored slacks and pants. Everything that fit went with him and everything else that needed to be tailored would be picked up by a PA of Eddie’s and brought to the hotel.

In fact when he got back to the hotel, the mysterious PA had struck again. On his bed was a large box. As he got closer he could see it was from the shop he was at earlier today.

He didn’t know what it could be. He had everything he wanted from the shop. He had even gotten help carrying all his bags up the hotel room by a couple of porters, both of whom Steve tipped well. He kept an eye on the package the whole time he took off the tags and put away his clothes in the dresser and closet.

Once Steve was done he walked over to the package a tad warily. He knew it had come from Eddie. There was no one else it could have come from. He undid the silk ribbon and pulled it off gently. He lifted the lid and set it to the side. He then moved the tissue paper out of the way.

Inside was the most beautiful cream colored suit he had ever seen. He opened the jacket touched the black silk lining. Sticking out of the pocket of the breast pocket was a note. He pulled it out. In the loopy handwriting of the sales woman were the words, “I wanted to get you something special. I hope you’ll wear this for me when I get back to Hawkins.”

Steve shook his head, smiling fondly. He walked over to the phone and called Eddie. He bounced on the bed as it rang through.

“Hey, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “How was your shopping trip?”

“It was marvelous,” Steve giggled. “Though if you want me calling you at times other then when you buy presents, you’re going to have slow up a bit. It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

Eddie laughed. “You got me there, hon. But I’m glad you like the suit. I wanted to surprise you with it. I when I called about the card earlier, I told them that once they got your measurements to set it aside.”

“How did it get here before I did?” Steve asked, twirling the cord around his finger.

“See, I knew you would have a lot of clothes and couldn’t carry it up yourself, so I just made sure to have my little elf slip in while you were dealing with the porters.”

“Sneaky!” he crowed. “I love it. I even bought the perfect shirt to go with it. It’s black and grey in kind of watercolor like stripes. Add a black pocket square and some nice shoes I bought and I’d be the talk of the town.”

“Well you’re already the talk of my world,” Eddie murmured, causing Steve to blush dark red. “Have you eaten yet, little Canary?”

Damn. Steve knew he had forgotten something.

“No...” he whined. “I just got so excited about shopping that it slipped my mind.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ll have dinner sent up to you. I think you’ll really like their hamburgers.”

Steve smiled at that. He had gone out to Benny’s to get a good burger, and they had them here. “Sounds good.”

They talked for a little bit more before Eddie had to go so that he could order Steve dinner, so they said their goodbyes and hung up.

Steve decided to take a shower while he was waiting on his food. He gathered up his things including his new hair products he bought yesterday.

He got undressed and turned on the hot water, letting the steam fill the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked at every angle of his face and had to admit that he actually looked happy. And wasn’t that a fucking trip.

He had thought he was happy before all this. Yeah, sure his dad was a jerk and his mom was useless, but he had friends, money, a car. Hell, he even had a boyfriend in this backwater hick town.

And then it all fell apart.

He hated how all his friends scattered the second the chips were down. He hated how Tommy turned tail and didn’t even try to take Steve with him. He had no doubt that soon enough the town would be all a twitter about Tommy and Carol and how cute they were together.

It was all bullshit.

The only people that cared about him were the people that would get hurt the most by all this and Steve was determined to keep them out of it.

Just before he got into the shower, the phone rang.

He let out a sigh and went to go answer it. There were only three people who had his number, Eddie, Dustin, and Eddie’s manager, Chrissy. All people Steve didn’t want to leave hanging.

“Hello?” he greeted.

“Steve?” a cool female voice asked. “This is Chrissy, Corroded Coffin’s manager. I understand you wanted to send Eddie something?”

“Oh!” Steve cried. “Yes, thank you for getting back to me so soon. Yeah, it’s not very big, say about the size of a 3x5 picture frame?” He hurried over to the desk, dragging the phone and stretching its cord to the limit to pull out a pen and some hotel stationary.

She hummed. “It’s not, risque is it?”

He laughed. “What? No! It’s nothing like that I promise.”

“Okay,” Chrissy said skeptically. “We have people opening packages before they get sent to the band so don’t send anything you don’t want a total stranger to see.”

“I promise it will mean absolutely nothing to the poor soul that opens their mail,” he informed her, “but he will absolutely get a kick out of it.”

Steve could tell she was still leery about it, but he wasn’t going to ruin the surprise.

She let out a sigh. “Fine. Here’s the address to send it to.” She rattled off an address and Steve dutifully wrote it down. “By the time it gets there, they should be back in LA, so it’ll go to their main mail box.”

He wrote band PO Box over the address and underlined it. “Great, thanks.”

“Now do you need anything else that isn’t their personal information?” she huffed.

Steve winced, he could tell she wasn’t happy being Eddie’s errand girl and by extension, his.

“No,” he said, “Just that. It’s just a small token that I think he’d like.”

“All right,” she said. “Good evening.”

“Good evening!” he chirped back.

Once she had hung up, Steve shook his head. He knew it was her job to to look out for the band. But it wasn’t that big of deal. What she think she was going to do send his dirty panties to the guy?

Not!

He looked down at himself and sighed. He had carried that whole conversation completely naked. He padded back to the bathroom and stepped into the shower.

He stepped under the stream of water and let it soothe him. He was still smarting a little from Chrissy’s attitude. She seemed friendly enough at the bar and genuinely wanted to see Eddie and Steve hit it off.

But something between then and now she had completely soured on him. That was a problem for future Steve, though. Right now in this moment he was going to enjoy his shower, watch some TV and enjoy the burger Eddie was having sent up.

~

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

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10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐓

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

genre: smut, office romance

word count: 5k

summary: a week after walking in on your boyfriend fucking someone else, Max gives you the day off. You leave, unaware that you dropped your watch. Much to your surprise, he brings it to you. Your relationship with him escalates in the following days.

warnings: office sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, use of 'sir' & 'good girl', piv, dom/sub dynamics, very mild degradation (he calls you his cocksleeve like once), dumbification if you squint, soft!max at times

a/n: I drafted this months ago and only now I finally finished the fic, I have no idea why I waited this long especially since I'd written most of it back then but other wips got in the way--sorry Max lmaodvdf this is my first time writing for you and I hope I did you justice 🖤 I rewatched his scenes and I'm still so horny for this man it's making me look stupid

Max’s office is the nicest one of everyone who works in this building, albeit a bit darker. There’s a succulent on his desk that reminds you of a translucent star and you can’t seem to draw your eyes away from it. His voice is smooth and melodic but you aren’t really listening. Your hand moves over to your watch, feeling the coolness of metal underneath your fingertips. It’s nice. 

It’s safe to say that you’re not really paying attention to anything. 

Your eyes are wet still, a sting every time you dare to blink. It’s been a week since you found your boyfriend screwing someone else on the couch in the living room. The image still lingers in your head, taunting you. 

While you stared, unblinking as they scrambled for their clothes, all you could think of how happy you were that they didn’t use the bedroom. 

Now that the relationship is over it’s easier to see the red flags. The way he belittled you, your passions, the things that you enjoyed. Your body, your cooking, anything you did was never enough for him. It was an open invitation to mock you for who you were. And that was the least of it, he never touched you, and you had to beg him for sex— not in the fun kind if you might add. You feel so fucking stupid for trying to make him happy.

“You’re not listening are you?” 

You flinch upon hearing the question, eyes finally snapping away from the succulent and turning to Max. You didn’t mean to be so obvious about it. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. . . Great, another person you couldn’t make happy no matter what you did. 

“You’ve been like this all week. Is there something going on? You can take leave if you need to, you’re not really much use like this anyway” 

His words sting but you can’t really blame him for it. Though you did find it funny that as an immortal he was so pressed for time. 

“Sorry,” you say and he looks at you, really looks at you. Brown eyes move from your eyes to your lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his own. “I’ll do better just some... personal stuff going on,”

“Family?” 

“Shitty breakup.” 

“Oh.”

Max appreciates bluntness. You figured that one out on your first day here. He isn’t a fan of keeping anything that might affect your work bottled up. He doesn't like the guessing game either. If there’s something wrong he wants to know and if he can he’ll fix it. Not that he can really fix a broken heart. 

He suddenly stands up, making his way around the desk. He lends against the edge, hands on his lap. Instictecly you curl your fingers around the armrests. Max is pretty docile for the most part, unless he’s hungry. But the way he’s looking down at you, brows relaxed and a faint smile tugging at his lips, it makes your heart drop. He’s a walking corpse but his eyes are more alive compared to most people you’ve met. 

“I’m sure you’ll be happier without commitment wearing you down,” he says, voice dropping, barely above a whisper. You shudder and fail to see the way his fingers twitch. “Don’t think about it, relax, sweetheart.” 

And you do. It’s like warm water dancing over your skin. Your shoulders slump, your body limply sinking into the chair. A lazy smile spreads across your lips and he smiles back, teeth winking at you between his plush lips. “That’s it. You’re not feeling anything  now, are you?” 

You giggle, shaking your head. Even your heartbeat slows, the tips of your fingers tingling with pleasure—

You blink, pinching your brows, you slowly roll your shoulders and hear your bones crack. Max is gazing at you with utmost curiosity, thumbs drumming silently.

Then it hits you. The fucker is using his powers. Fucking vampires. 

“Stop it,” you hiss, your body relaxed but mind racing. He rolls his eyes and waves his hand as a sign of dismissal. The tension that had disappeared from your muscles return at full force, and you jolt. “You shouldn’t do that,” 

“I was trying to help,” he answers without a care in his tone. He buttons his vest and gestures with his head to the door. “Take the rest of the day off. Sort yourself. See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

“But—” 

“Just go. It’s fine,” when you fail to look convinced, he pouts and draws a cross over his chest. Ironic. “I swear. Now go, take the day off, collect your thoughts or whatever you need to do,” 

You leave without pointing out the irony of him making a cross over his non-beating heart. You’ve worked long enough to know that if the boss wants you to take the time off, you take the time off. 

Max drags his palm over his face, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he hops off the desk and turns to look at the empty seat you left behind. He’s not sure if he should be condoning this kind of behavior. He doesn’t want people barging in here asking to leave with the most minuscule of problems. But it isn’t typical of you to be distracted so he decided that you earned it. 

He’s curious about what kind of man would be stupid enough to leave you, let alone make you look that sad. Not that it’s any of his business. 

Max is amidst turning on his heel when he sees it. A small sparkle on the carpeted floor. Cocking an eyebrow, he leans over with his hands in his pockets. A watch? 

That’s right you had a watch when you came in, you were playing with it while he was going over the weekly sales. You must’ve dropped it. Looking almost bored, he scoops it off the floor and stares at it. He sees your initials written on the back, a pretty, delicate little accessory. 

Surely you would miss it. He knows your address due to dragging your drunk self back home after an office party— so maybe he should bring it to you. Max sighs and flips the watch over. He has time to make a quick stop. 

He leaves the office with the watch snug in his pocket. It really isn’t his style to be nice, or remorseful, but he does feel a tad guilty using his powers on you. He genuinely did think he was doing some good. It did look like you were feeling better until you broke out of the trance. 

Max steps into the elevator. The tedious music loud and scratching his ears as always. 

Taking a day off isn’t going as smoothly as you had hoped. 

Initially, you thought you would binge your favorite shows and eat a bucket of ice cream. Instead, you ended up staring blankly at the ceiling, arm dangling out from the side of the bed. It’s a shitty feeling. Your heart feels heavy and uncomfortable. Maybe Max taking away the pain wasn’t so bad after all? 

There’s a loud knock on the door and you jump. Every bone in your body aches, your heart beating fast as you head to the living room. You’re praying to every god you know that it’s not your ex. You don’t want to deal with him. Especially not today. 

You take a deep, calming, breath. It’s okay. He wouldn’t just show up now, would he? Stupidly enough you don’t look through the peephole before yanking the door open, the person that lurks on the other side takes you by surprise completely. 

It’s Max. 

What the hell? 

“Hiii,” he says with a smug grin. He lifts something to your line of vision and it takes you a moment to recognize your watch. “Found this, thought you might miss it.” 

Blinking, you open your palms and he drops it. It feels like a dream. “Uh…thanks,” 

“You’re welcome,” he peers over your shoulder, looking into the dimly lit apartment. “So how’s your day off going?” 

“Not as fun as I hoped,” you give him a bittersweet smile. His eyes meet yours, and you see your reflection in them, so bright. “Do you want to come inside?” 

A shudder climbs your spine when something dark crosses his face, eyes becoming sharper. Your stomach churns and you swallow, fingers tightening around the watch. 

“Would love to” he chirps, practically jumping over the threshold. “Thank you for the invite, much obliged.” 

“You really can’t come in without being invited?” you ask, closing the door with a push of your heel. 

“Nope,” he answers, emphasizing on the p. “Why do you think I left you at the door after the party? You were too drunk to say ‘come in’ I basically had to push you through the door just so you could crawl the rest of the way to your bedroom,” 

“I honestly thought you were just being an asshole,” 

He scoffs, “I am an asshole. Just not to the people I like,” 

He drops down to the couch, which in return makes your stomach sink. You really need to burn it, you don’t think you can have it in your apartment anymore. You sit across from him, placing the watch neatly on top of the coffee table. “I wasn’t aware you liked me,” 

“Let’s say tolerate. I like your work ethic.” 

“Thank you?” you answer, unsure.

“You’re very much welcome.” 

You’re not sure why you invited him inside. He doesn’t drink coffee unless it’s morning, and he doesn’t really like to eat as far as you could tell. The silence is deafening and uncomfortable. You part your lips to ask if he would like tea or anything else but he beats you to it, gaze fixated on you. 

“So, how did it happen?” 

Your throat goes dry, “What?” 

“The break-up,” he shrugs and leans back into the couch, you internally cringe. “Do you want me to break his neck or something?” 

“What—No!” you’re horrified but can’t ignore the way warmth blossoms in your chest. You’re highly aware that he’s joking, however, it’s still a nice thought that someone actually cares enough to get pissed about it. “Where did that even come from?” 

“I don’t know, I’m not sure I like seeing you so sad. It’s unnerving.” 

“Sorry that my misfortune is bothering you,” you answer, crossing your arms. “He cheated on me, and I’m only now realizing how shitty he was.” 

“Ouch.” 

“Yeah,” 

“So I do need to break his neck then?” 

You laugh. 

You aren’t expecting it, but here you are rubbing tears from your eyes as you laugh with your whole body. There’s just something about the way he said it; as if it was the most normal thing to do. He seems to enjoy the way you laugh. Smiling wide and bright, watching you with fond eyes. 

After minutes, your laughter starts to die down, softening into breathless giggles. You’re surprised to find that Max is still smiling at you, no smugness, no cockiness, just an earnest smile. 

“Thank I really needed that,” you say, heat building at the base of your spine. “Sorry if I worried you. It’s been a bit rough lately.” 

“We can’t all be perfect every second,” he grins, he flattens his palms over his thighs, moving them up and down. Your breath hitches, eyes involuntarily dropping to his crotch. You’re flustered all of a sudden. He tilts his head, tongue poking out of his cheek as he gives you an open-mouthed smirk. “See something you like, sweetheart?” 

Your eyes snap to his face, cheeks burning, “Nope. Not—Not at all,” 

He leans forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. There’s a table in between but you feel as if he’s a breath away. You swallow, goosebumps rousing over your skin. 

“You know I can smell it right?” he purrs. “I can smell the arousal gathering between your legs. I can hear the way your heart is beating… That asshole had no idea how to fuck you properly did he?” 

Your pussy bottoms out at his words. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction that he’s right, you don’t want him to know how badly you want him inside. For him to whisper praises into your ear as you squirm around his cock. You lick your lips. He’s not using his powers, you can tell. Yet you still want to blame it on the fact that he’s doing something to make you feel so hot and bothered. But it’s not him, just you. 

You’re not sure when you started to have the hots for your boss, but clearly, there was something there. Lurking in the darkness of your mind.

“Look at you,” he coos, eyes raking over your body. “So sweet and afraid. Let me be the first one to say that he didn’t deserve you. Not in the slightest,” 

“Max…” you warn. 

“Yeah…?” he mimics your tone, smile somehow wider. “Would you want to get coffee before work tomorrow morning?” 

The question catches you by surprise. You observe him for a brief moment, he seems dead serious—at least the amount of serious Max Phillips can be. 

You nod.

Your first early morning coffee date with Max goes exactly how you expect it to go. You pay for both coffees as a thank you. He found it unnecessary but grumbled a thanks anyway. He talks a lot about work; about sales, about his time in Romania. But mostly work. You do appreciate the distraction though so you don’t complain. You pitch in, telling him ways the company could improve but also adding that you want to quit one day and do something better with your life. 

The following mornings follow the same pattern. Mostly conversations about work, and sipping coffee. That is until Tuesday rolls around. It’s an especially cold morning and you find yourself huddling closer to him as the two of you sat on the bench. He doesn’t really seem bothered by the cold, which makes sense since he’s cold-blooded. 

Max’s eyes drop to your trembling fingers that were curled helplessly around the coffee cup. You notice his frown, his gaze lifts back up to meet your eyes. “Do you want to go inside?” 

“No, I’m good. Besides it’s too early to start working.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “We do get here early don’t we.” 

“I mean…we don’t have to. But I have been enjoying our mornings.” 

“So have I,” he chews on his bottom lip, instinctively moving closer to you when he feels a shudder crawling up your spine. “It sucks that I can’t really warm you up—being undead and all— This would be the perfect moment to hold your hands.” 

Funnily enough, he does manage to warm you up. You look down at your hands, the cup only half full, you place it to the side. Max truly had been a balm to your broken heart these past couple of days. He never got overly flirtatious again as he did in your apartment, some part of you is disappointed that he didn’t. 

“You can—” you lick your lips, the wetness furthering the chill. “You can still do that. If you want to.” 

“Yeah?” he moves his jaw, eyes dropping to your lips. “You’ll be colder.” 

“I think it might be worth the risk.” 

Max brings your hands to his lips, brushing your knuckles and kissing each finger individually. You shudder. He wasn’t wrong, he was awfully cold. But you weren’t wrong either, it’s worth it. Hundred percent. His mouth moves over the back of your hand in the shape of waves, the pit in your stomach rolling, and butterflies fluttering in your chest. His eyes meet yours and you’re mesmerized by him. His eyebrows raise, lips kissing the curve of your wrist, laying a path to the inside, he drags his teeth over the skin right above the vein. 

A sudden fear spikes from your feet to your neck. He wouldn’t, would he? 

“Are you afraid of me?” the question is whispered with a breath into your skin. Everywhere except the tip of your nose is warm. He looks at you with heavy eyelids, lashes kissing his cheeks every time he blinks. 

You don’t have an answer, but you know what he needs to hear. 

“I’m not.” 

Before you can blink his lips mold into yours. He traces the seam of your mouth with his tongue eagerly, and you part your lips, allowing him to taste and dominate. With both hands he holds your wrists firmly, pulling you close until you’re basically flush against him. Max inhales as he presses deeper, licking the inside of your mouth and swallowing your whines. 

He breaks away from you with a smile, you see the flash of fangs.

You gently knock on the already open door. Max is positively exhausted. His eyes snap from his computer to you, he sighs and signals you to enter with two fingers. You close the door when you enter. 

“Are we still good for dinner?” you ask, feeling slightly foolish now that you were standing in the middle of his office. 

“Sorry baby, not today. These assholes managed to mix everything up, need to fix all that so I’m going to be here late,” 

You try very hard not to look disappointed. You already know you failed when you feel your bottom lip starting to quiver. You ball your hands into weak fists, pushing your nails into your skin. He notices, a moment of worry crosses his face. 

Tonight wasn’t really a date, or anything important. It was just dinner. 

Then why are you so upset?

You neither move away nor lean in as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs, and you exhale at the way you can feel his chest move underneath you. 

“Nothing, just—Don’t worry about it. I’m just being clingy. I know you’re busy,” 

“Clingy? Oh, sweetheart,” he rolls his chair back and slaps his thigh. “Come, sit on my lap.” 

“Uh…” your eyes flit between his spread legs and his face. “Excuse me?” 

“Just get your gorgeous self over here.” 

Swallowing, your legs move on their own. Your heart does somersaults in your chest. His smile never falters as you slowly lower yourself down, feeling his frame under you. Your insides clench. Your arms shake. You feel his breath on your neck when he guides your arms around his neck. He presses his lips where your neck and chest meet, heat coils in your stomach. 

“Max…” 

“You could never be too clingy,” he murmurs. “And even if you were I would love it. I’m actually really happy you came over, I was starting to think this thing between us was going nowhere.” 

“You want it…to go somewhere?” 

“Of course, I fucking do,” he snaps, looking up, glaring at you. “Do you think I come here that early just to drink coffee—I like spending time with you.” 

You feel yourself start to tremble as his hands move up your thighs and cup your ass. He squeezes gently and you gasp, your skin prickling under his touch. His lips move away from your neck, pressing soft kisses up your jaw until he reaches your ear.

"I want to take this further," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to fuck you, sweetheart. Bend you over this table and make you scream my name because I’m sure haven’t been screaming anything for a while."

His hands move around your body, tracing the line of your spine and the curves of your hips. His touch is gentle and yet rough at the same time, your heart beats faster with each passing second. You melt into him, wanting more, wanting him.

“I want to feel your wet cunt around my cock,” he groans, dragging his teeth down the column of your neck. His voice drops an octave. “Let me fuck you sweet thing.”

You pause for a moment, and then you nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Yes," you whisper. "Yes, I want this too."

Max smiles, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss. He nips at your bottom lip before pulling it and slipping his tongue into your mouth. Pulling you closer—inhaling you—he cups your head from both sides, and groans into your mouth. You feel the growing wetness between your legs, your body having a mind of its own, you grind down on him, shuddering as you feel the hard length under his pants. 

“Needy,” he tuts, gripping you by the neck. You hiss when he yanks you back, the rest of your body falling still. “You’ll take what I give you. Is that clear?” 

“Yes—” you bite the inside of your cheek. “Yes, sir.” 

Your cheeks burn as his eyes widen momentarily. Then he closes them, taking a steady breath, he cocks his head to the side. A soft hum echoes in his throat. 

“I like that,” he purrs, opening his eyes. “Say that again.” 

“Please, sir.” you choke out.

Max's grip tightens as he bends you over the office table. You gasp, your skin hot as he shoves your pants down to your knees. While you kick them off, you hear a zipper, feel the weight of his cock on the top of your ass. Your face is directly staring at the door— If someone were to waltz in, the first sight to greet them would see you taking your boss’s cock. However, you can hardly care when his warm breath fans your neck, his breathing uneven and rushed. 

He slips his hands down and cups your ass, kneading and squeezing as he shoves you further against the cold desk. 

"You look so sexy like this," he growls, his cock pushing against your ass as he presses himself against you. His hands move up your body, and he starts tugging at the buttons of your shirt, loosening them one by one. His lips brush against your ear and you shiver in anticipation as his hot breath tickles your skin.

"Say. It." 

It’s a threat and some wicked part of you is tempted to exhaust his patience. His hands move down your body, and his fingers start to tease your nipples as he traces circles around them. Then, when you don’t answer, he pinches them harshly. 

Your body jerks at the sharp pain, an acute moan rips from your throat. 

“Fuck me, sir. Please.” 

“You sound so good like this, begging for my cock,” he purrs. “I’m going to go easy on you today sweetheart, but don’t expect me to always be so nice.” 

He slides his hands lower, and his fingers slip between your legs, teasing and caressing your wetness. Your eyes roll back as his fingers start to penetrate you, and you grind downs in search of more. Wanting him deeper, wanting more of him. 

“So fucking wet,” he coos, he pulls out his fingers, smearing wet streaks across your hips. He nudges his cock between your folds and rocks his hips, the catches against your clit and a loud moan rips from your throat. “That’s my girl, and you thought I didn’t want this. What kind of idiot wouldn’t want this pretty cunt? Hmm?” 

“Max, please. . .” 

You hear the growl that rattles his chest. Closing his eyes, he cocks his head to the side, tongue tracing the edges of his fangs. “I really love hearing you beg,” he groans. “And the blood rush in your veins.” 

Your breath catches in your throat—and in one smooth thrust, he slips inside of you. You clutch the edges of the desk, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Suddenly the rest of the world blurs and it’s just you and him. He stretches you perfectly, his length deep enough to hit all the right spots. His hands smooth a path up your spine. You practically purr at the feeling. You whimper, and when you do, his lips are on your neck in an instant. His body a cool, yet comfortable, blanket on top of you. 

“Good girl. Look at you, being so obedient,” he licks the salt off your skin. “You feel so good, baby. The perfect cocksleeve for the boss.” 

“Oh god—” you choke out. You have no idea how to respond to that, but your body sure does. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him tight. His breath hitches. You feel him straighten behind you, his hands press you down from the waist and you can’t help the small squeal that parts your lips. 

He’s restraining himself. You can tell by the way his hips twitches, eager to bury more of himself into you. His nails bite into your skin and instinctively you raise your hips. “Maaax,” you moan. “Fuck me, please. I can take it.” 

“You can, can’t you?” he mutters, sounding almost impressed. “My perfect girl. You’ll take everything I’ll give you?” 

You breathe out, “Yes—” 

And he gives you everything. 

Every thrust knocks the air from your lungs. Somewhere on the desk your arm hits a stack of papers and they fly everywhere, making a mess on the floor. Max doesn’t stop. He jackhammers into you, splitting you into two. It never felt this intense before. Never. You struggle to breathe and with every snap of his hips, you feel slick dripping down your thighs. Max groans as he wraps his fingers around your neck, pulling you up. Your breasts sway with every stroke, your nipples aching from how hard they are. His one hand remains on your throat as the other moves to your chest, kneading the soft mound in his palm. 

“Wouldn’t be fun if someone walked in right now?” he teases, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Seeing you getting absolutely railed—kinda wish I had a mirror so I could see how cock drunk you look, sweetheart.” 

Fuck, is all you can think and you desperately want to voice it out, tell him how good it feels. His voice, his breath, his teeth, his cock— But all you can do is whimper helplessly, hoping that the sound is enough to convey how much you’re enjoying this. 

“So stupid for me, I love it. You want me to make you come?” 

Another whimper. You nod helplessly, forcing yourself back to meet the movement of his hips. He hums as his hand slides between your legs, he draws wet circles around your clit, and your entire body clenches. You can barely hear him from the blood rush in your ears but you think he mumbles ‘oh shit’. Max continues to play with the sensitive bundle of nerves, with fast strokes he mumbles profanities against your skin. 

You come with his name on your lips. Your body convulses, muscles clenching and unclenching over and over as you gush all around his cock. It feels never-ending. He grinds his hips, burying himself deeper, throbbing inside. You hiss as your second orgasm washes over you, fluttering and twitching, your body goes limp. You're fairly certain if Max wasn’t holding you up, you’d collapse. 

Much to your surprise, Max slowly lays you on top of the desk and the office ceiling comes into view. He’s still pulsing between your legs. He smiles down at you, slides his fingers between your lips—the same fingers he made you come with—and leans in to shove his tongue alongside them. You part your lips wide, the taste of yourself and him making your head spin. You moan around his tongue and fingers. He pulls back with a smile.

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?” he asks, cupping your face with the same hand. 

“You can come inside,” you answer in a daze, then quickly add. “You can’t get me pregnant right?” 

He shakes his head and you smile, “Go ahead then.” 

It doesn’t take him long. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and takes deep inhales of your scent as he spills inside of you. You thread your fingers through his soft locks and gently tug on them. He groans. 

“That’s nice,” he hums, pressing his lips over your clavicle. “I wanna spend an eternity between your legs.” 

“Should I be scared that you actually can do that?” you say with a soft chuckle, he looks down at you, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. He wiggles his brows. 

“Maybe.” 

Max slowly pulls out, and when he stands, he watches the mess pour between your legs. His pupils eat away the color of his eyes and you shudder at how hungry he looks. 

Suddenly shy, you avert your gaze as you try to collect yourself, “Sorry about messing up your schedule. I’ll see you later.” 

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

He grabs your wrists and pulls you into an embrace. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until you feel yourself melting into him. 

“Fuck work,” he says, his hand resting over the small of your back. “I’ll get it done later. Let’s go home so I can at least spend tonight between your legs.” 

You grin into his chest, happy that he can’t see how ecstatic you look. He probably knows how excited you are anyway. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

[diazsdimples]

Several Sentence Sunday

Tagged by my love @hippolotamus who shared a devastating Mirrorball snippet. Go check it out!! On this weeks agenda we (once again) have some Eddietommy Mechanic Fic, which I really need to rename because there's currently 150 words of actual mechanic, and another 6.3k of pure smut (and only one of them has finished 😭 I fear we're in for the long haul here boys). Anyways, pls enjoy.

“Fuck, I’m getting close,” Tommy warns breathily, a barely perceptible break in his voice. He combs his hand through Eddie’s hair, tilting his face up so their eyes meet. His balls slip out of Eddie’s mouth and Eddie whines, mourning the loss. “Where do you want me to come?” The question makes Eddie’s brain come back online, pulling him back to reality rather than the pleasant, buzzy space he’d been in, and he considers, lazily stroking Tommy’s cock as he does so. It’s not something he’s ever had to consider before, with any of his other partners. There’s always been something so satisfying about them coming on his tongue or around his fingers, feeling their rhythmic clenches as they squirm and thrash above him. With a man though, he feels like it’s more. The idea of having Tommy’s come on him - marking him and claiming him – sends a bolt of hot and shivery desire up Eddie’s spine. As much as he’d love to take Tommy into his mouth and milk each and every drop from him, he thinks he might need a little bit more practice before he can pull that off without gagging. On his face, then? As hot as that seems, the practical side of Eddie says that getting come in his eye the first time he sleeps with a man would set a bad precedent, and he doesn’t want the cleanup that would come along with it. Although, the thought of long, thick ropes of come landing on his cheek, dripping down his chin, maybe even in his hair, definitely has an appeal to it. Eddie shivers at the thought, his neglected cock throbbing between his legs. Next time. “Eddie, baby, I’m going to need an answer soon.” Tommy sounds wrecked, like he’s holding himself back, and it’s then that Eddie remembers he’s still playing with Tommy’s cock.

@theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @buckera @bidisasterevankinard

@monsterrae1 @wikiangela @bucksbignaturals @bigfootsmom @slightlyobsessedwitheverything

@tommybuckleykinard @bi-buckrights @actuallyitsellie @perfectlysunny02 @buffaluff

@steadfastsaturnsrings @agenttommykinard @eddiespornstache @eddiestommy @tommykinrd

@superlock-in-the-tardis @evansboyfriend @tommykinkard @cliophilyra @rdng1230

@sleepywinchesters @emilybahu @screaming-universe @teabroomsandbooks @spotsandsocks (lmk if you want adding or removing from this wip's taglist)

[fictionalsownme]

"Touch" | season 6 ! keigo takami x reader | WIP BLURB

Hiya! So I've noticed recently that I almost never post my writing on here, even though I write all the time. I'm just so easily distracted I almost never finish things, but I thought I'd start sharing what I do have so some of these little bits can see the light of day hehe :) here's a bit a wrote about how hawks' and the reader's dynamic might shift after his burn and after his personality changes a bit!

disclaimer: this blurb is unedited and unfinished. just wanted to share some WIPs! Enjoy!

Recently, Hawks— Keigo— had been touching you even more than normal.

You would say he’s finding excuses for physical contact, but there’s not even reasons most of the time.

It’d been about a week since you started riding around with him, Jeanist, and Endeavor. All Might, Deku, and some other pros were part of the efforts, too.

Being a civilian, you knew you brought them more risk than aide, but you weren’t totally useless. And now Hawks— now Keigo— insisted on you being by his side.

It’s not as if you and him had never touched before. In the year you’d known him and worked for him, the two of you had actually gotten really close. And when his name was revealed to the public, he asked you to start calling him that all the time.

No one else, just you. It was taking some getting used to.

It wasn’t long after that the touching started. The near constant physical contact.

A steady hand at your back seemed to be his favorite. But there were other motions too. Touching your arm, playing absently with the edge of your jacket, nudging his shoe with yours. Even just keeping you within arms length seemed to be a must.

Not that you didn’t like it. You definitely did. Each touch was so warm and protective, it made you lightheaded. And in these times… any comfort was a blessing.

You figured that’s why he’d been doing it. Just basic coping, nothing more. You understood. Before all this mess, before he’d been burned, you had always been the first to offer hugs and reassurances. You’d even held hands once or twice. Platonically, of course. But nothing like this.

It wasn’t just the physical nature of your relationship changing, either.

He had this air about him when you were near. It simmered when he talked to you, when he touched you or looked in your eyes. An almost… protectiveness. Possessive.

It was the same with his name. He hadn’t asked a single other person to call him Keigo, and no one did. Except you. And he was adamant about it.

You were flattered, and happy to do this for him. But you were a bit embarrassed to admit that you’d been struggling to adjust. You kept using his hero name by mistake. At first he’d just corrected you with an unreadable expression, then started to tease you about it, but now he’d resorted to waiting until you got it right to respond at all. Even though he’d hadn’t been as outwardly playful since he’d been burned, you knew he wasn’t actually mad at you or anything. Another change you understood. He was being more authentic to who he was. More reserved and quiet and thinking. Again, an adjustment to be sure, but you were happy.

You didn’t mind this slightly new dynamic. In fact, you were hopelessly in danger of falling even more in love with him than you already were, the poor man.

You swore that if he slid his palm over the expanse of your back one more time, tenderly whispered your name like that, gave you instructions with a warm, grounding touch… you were going to lose it and confess on the spot.

You stumbled when one of the incapacitated villains stuck their foot out to trip you as you walked past. You glared at him. Tied, gagged, beat up, and still trying to cause shit.

You kicked at his foot.

“Come stand over here,” called Hawks’— fuck, Keigo’s— still slightly raspy voice.

You gave the villain one more stink eye, and came to stand next to where Keigo was leaning against the car. His hand went to your back immediately. Warm even through his glove and your sweater.

It truly concerned you how normal that was starting to feel. How disarming.

He gently rubbed your back with his thumb, his palm flat against your spine, waiting silently for Jeanist and Endeavor to come back with instructions for the goons.

The feeling of his hand… strong and grounding like an anchor… your eyes slid closed after only a few moments.

Like you said, lately comfort was desperately needed and hard to come by. You kept your back straight, clutching your bag to your chest, savoring the feeling of your best friend. There to keep you safe.

When your eyes opened, they slid over to him on instinct. He was watching you.

You cheeks flared but you kept his gaze. He wasn’t… anything really. Not happy or upset or surprised. He just looked back at you, his hand still against you.

God you swore… sometimes you were so ridiculously close to just grabbing him by the stupid jacket and kissing him senseless. Just to feel it, to feel him, to see what he would do. To see if it would really ruin your life like you told yourself it would.

This somewhat new side of him was intriguing to say the least. Not afraid of silence, of a blank expression, of showing he was thinking. Before his burn and the collapse of society, his training kept his expression in a claustrophobic range of cock-sure grin to open laughter. The only exception was when he was squaring off against villains, or simply too tired to mask himself properly. The later was still rare, however. He only ever willingly stopped presenting when the two of you were alone, and you were proud to say you’d gotten very good at seeing beneath it all.

But things were different now. He didn’t bother to hide. As his friend, it was a breath of fresh air, and it was nice to see no one else seemed to mind either. He still laughed and smiled and made stupid quips. But he didn’t bother to be someone he wasn't.

But he’d been changing too, inside. Everyone had. Less hero and more man. Maybe that’s why he’d asked you to start using his name.

[wonwooslibrary]

svt as boyfriends ♡ chan edition

member: lee chan (dino) x gn! reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, bullet points

word count: 714

summary: channie's boyfriend things <333

warnings: mentions of menstrual cycles & insulting in a loving way

author's note: hello! normally this is where i would be oops i'm getting back into writing but i'll be completely honest this time and say that i am completely falling out of love with it and i genuinely haven't opened a wip in so damn long. if i wasn't so far into this series, I definitely would not have finished it....i want to write more but it just might take me a while to find my love for it once again...thanks for still reading though <3 sorry this is so late, and I hope you enjoy reading!!!

Socially stupid bf <3 

If anyone sees you, they will always know that Chan is close behind 

Is so madly in love with you and doesn’t know how to live without you

Quality Time 

Loves taking you anywhere he goes, including dance practices or shopping 

Dinner dates are his thing - he’ll pull off the roses and candles and everything 

Constant texts when you can’t be together because of work or visiting family 

Such as hey i managed to find that sock that went missing in the laundry last week !! or how long do i put 12 pizza rolls in the microwave for 

Loves just being with you when you take part in your hobbies, even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy them himself 

Gets worried that you’ll get angry with him because he’s always with you and knows that you need your alone time once in a while 

Words of Affirmation

Compliments you through jokes or insults type of boyfriend 

You’re all like “I love you,” and he’s like, “You wouldn’t if I was a worm though :(“ and then you roll your eyes because come on, how could someone not love Lee Chan

Always apologizes for things he doesn’t need to apologize for because he doesn’t want to upset you :((( 

I don’t think Chan would be a big fan of pet names, to be honest, but if he was, I think they would just be versions of your name :3 

Melts into a puddle when you compliment him because !!! you are complimenting him !!!! 

Basically he can dish out all the compliments, but the minute you try saying them back, he turns into a literal tomato because he’s embarrassed but also so madly in love 

Physical Touch

I think he is secretly one of the biggest cuddle bugs in svt and nobody can change my mind

When he laughs, he always manages to fall into you some way, whether that be resting his head on your shoulder or crumpling into you

Loves holding hands (especially in public) but not in a possessive way, more of a I constantly want to be around you kind of way 

And of course you love it because it’s Lee Chan and you love everything about him 

On the other hand, there are definitely days that he doesn’t feel confident in himself or that he deserves the love you give him :((( 

You know on those days that you need to show your affection and make the first moves yourself,,,he likes loving you, but sometimes he just needs to be shown that he can be loved too

Acts of Service 

I’m not going to lie, I struggled a bit with this category, because I feel it’s easier for Chan to say things rather than show it

He’s just not sure whether him making tea for you says “i love you” or “sup bro” and wants to make sure he gets the right message across 

Because of this, your relationship took a while to form because both of you cannot take a hint and were so convinced you didn’t like each other 

Absolutely loves helping you with literally everything: doing chores, studying, getting ready in the morning, as long as you are there with him, he doesn’t care and will do anything 

He doesn’t realize that what he does shows how much he loves you, he just thinks its normal to help you, and vice versa 

Sometimes you protest against his help but he’s just a BOY WHO IS IN LOVE let him do what he wants :( 

Gift Giving 

A huuuge fan of gift giving 

Will buy anything that you could ever want or need

Stuffed animals and snacks galore !!!! 

If you have menstrual cycles, he would totally be the type of boyfriend to go to the store and buy whatever products you need and surprise you with a bunch of snacks and treats throughout the week 

You of course also spoil him to the best of your ability and he loves it, but also always feels bad when you spend money on him in any way

Loves matching and customizable gifts !!! He likes to give you things that can make you laugh and remember a specific moment with him because he thinks it’s cute (and you think it’s sappy and adorable)

[simweedie]

i'm done with s4 lol

hi guys it's been a sec. i haven't seriously played s4 since growing together came out and even then i got bored super fast. i think EA is ridiculous and i'm just so done. the growing together patch completely broke my game and i realized it was due to laundry day. it's been over a year and laundry day completely breaks my game still. you'd think this would be a high priority issue because the EA thread about it is still active today and 50 pages long, but nope.

most of my WIPS for the sims 4 were just basic shit that can be done in create a style so that I can have matching woods, or *GASP* solid colors. recoloring was extremely boring for me and I never finished anything. i would love to contribute more to having more basic shit in s4 build mode but i don't have passion for it anymore.

i still have the simulation itch though, so instead of waiting a year for paralives (!!!!!!!!) i labored over s3 for 2 fucking days and now it runs beautifully, looks great and i played for like 8 hours straight once i got it working. i want to thank this community for being so great and keeping s3 and s4 alive. the decline of this franchise hurts, i know many of us grew up playing and loving these games.

anyway, that's my update. wave the black flag. screenshots will follow.

[stylinsoncity]

Hiiii! I know it’s been a while but first! I want to just confirm that I’m definitely alive and well! I’m also back with a new fic, which you might have already seen if you’re subscribed on ao3.

‘Hard times in elmsmere’ is the vampire/witch time travel au I mentioned a while ago and it is now published in its entirety. I hope you enjoy it!

I also want to talk candidly about where I am re: fic writing in general. I’ve been feeling distant for months as I try to focus on my own personal writing and other interests, hence the long hiatus. I hoped that some time away would kind of reboot that part of my brain. But tbh the opposite has happened.

I will absolutely be finishing penn park and an update is coming very soon. by next week, i believe. i also have one more chapter I want to post for notes on oxford and then I’ll likely mark that as completed. i’m not sure what to do with ‘till the end of time’ so I’ll just leave that open for now. but I think by the end of the year, assuming I’ve added one or two more chapters, i’ll likely mark that completed as well. I do still want to publish caya…and once I finish my WIPs, I think I can get back to editing it bit by bit. I’d also love for SEL to be published one day too, but that seems a little out of reach right now.

I really wish I could clone myself and devote my clone to the task of writing all the fics I’ve ever thought about. But sadly it’s just me! D: 

the bottom line is I won’t really be online anymore and the rate I’m able to update my fics will be really slow. I closed my inbox bc I didn’t want asks piling up or for anyone to feel ignored. my messages are still open for now though so if you need to contact me, pls do. but it may take me a while to respond.

since I’ll be away indefinitely and unable to provide permission, i would really appreciate it if my fics were no longer printed or reproduced in any way, this includes translations or reposting.

lastly, I just want to say thank you very very much for the support! it means so much more than i can even express right now. i've enjoyed all the conversations i've had here and all the love that's been shared. this is not quite a goodbye. there are still lots of great chapters to come. But for now I just want to say thank you for understanding and ily!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: The reblogs and my comments await your wrath.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your turn to present comes and you stand up at the board, your budget projected as the bulb nearly blinds you. You point to the numbers and the accompanying graphs, going over each as best as you can. Your life might be an utter and complete mess but you know numbers. Your job is simple as simple gets and you can go over this ad nauseam.

Still, your focus is splintered as you find yourself stalling here and there. Each time you meet Mr Hansen's sparkling blue eyes, you nearly swallow your own tongue. You can't help but think of what you did in his office. Of what Pete would say when found out. And he will because you've never been a good liar and this isn't a secret you can keep. You just don't know how to say it.

He won't care that you were in a bind, that you were disgusted by yourself, that you didn't want to do it. You still did it. You betrayed your marriage. Even if it is a bit rocky, you made a vow. Despite the friction, you love Pete. You wouldn't have stuck around this long otherwise. It's just a rocky patch. Or it was, until this.

Your eyes linger on Hansen as he leans back in his chair and lets his gaze drift towards his lap. You gulp and look to the board, pointing out the projection as you finish up. You wallow in a momentary silence before you retreat and reclaim your seat at the conference table. You were absolutely certain to be as far from him as possible, though that was easy as all the executives cluster together.

You keep your attention at the front of the room. These things are always dull. You're not high up enough to care about more than your own piece in the puzzle. You don't make the big decisions, you just show what's there. 

You sip from your cold coffee. You feel your phone vibrating in your back pocket. Not now. You ignore it and tap your fingers on the table.

You glance around and once more find Hansen’s attention on you. He should be more concerned with the marketing presentation going on. You hide any tinge of emotion; irritation, confusion, humiliation, a peer up at the front.

The meeting ends just as you catch yourself nodding off. You shuffle out with the rest of the bodies and find your desk, nearly keeling over as you sit. You got what, an hour's sleep. You don't know if you can make it through.

Your phone goes off again. Great, what is it now? You really can't handle anything else today. Your morning has already drained you of everything you have left.

Shit, it's the school. You get up and answer your phone, marching between desks to find a quiet place. You dip down towards an empty meeting room and shut yourself in. The secretary tells you Malik got sick in gym class. Today? You sigh and promise you'll be there as soon as you can.

You put your hand to your forehead and yawn as you hang up. If you have any more caffeine, you're going to explode. You just need to get through it. You always do. Not for you, for the kids. That's what it's about.

You turn and find the door open, a figure against the frame. You could like and say you're surprised but you know Mr. Hansen isn't the type to let you sink in shame. He wants to rub it in.

"You know, I didn't think witches were real but you got magic hands, toots--"

"Sir," you fight to keep your voice even, "I just got a call from my kids' school--"

"Ew, let's not with the kids," he flicks his fingers dismissively, "I'm talking about us."

"Us?" You frown, "sir, please, I have to--"

"That husband of yours, he's lucky. Is that from practice or are you just that desperate to get your hands on some prime meat?"

You give him a look, the kind you give when you're trying not to yell. As a point, you don't raise your voice. He gives a shiver as if shaking off a chill.

"I'm teasing. I'm just... let's turn this thing around, honey. You got your budget, I got... off. And now we can get along. So, let me be a nice guy and say, go, get your kid, be a good mommy, and be back bright and early tomorrow."

You stutter. You don't quite believe him. It feels like a test. A trap. He smirks and lets his hand wander down his stomach. He grips himself through his pants.

"Unless, you want more--"

"I really have to go," you squeeze your phone, "my son--"

"Alright, alright, ugh, boring," he sneers, "I don't wanna hear about the kids."

"Um, okay," you near him, "thank you, Mr. Hansen."

"Yeah yeah," he backs out of the doorway, "don't stress it." He steps aside as you go into the hallway, "unclench a little."

As you turn, you stumble, a sudden clap against your ass throwing you off balance. You steady yourself but don't look back as he retracts his hand. Your eyes are wide, your steps stiff and stunted as you tell yourself to just keep going.

Shit, this is a problem.

Your job is stressful enough. The last thing you ever wanted was to be Hansen’s next target. It’s not something you ever worried about. You’re too old, too flabby, and too worn out. When he realises that, he’ll be back to the likes of Kendra. You don’t know who you should pity more; yourself or her.

You don't have capacity right now. One thing at a time. Get Malik home, then you can figure out how exactly your life is going to implode.

🗄️

You get Malik on the couch, bundled up watching his favourite cartoons, as you sit and stare at your phone. You know that even if you called, Pete wouldn't pick up. He's too busy for you. Still, your anxiety eats away at you and makes you impatient. You can't even enjoy the time away from the office.

You make some soup once your son's stomach settles but yours is in worse shape. You don't have an appetite, you're restless and exhausted. You're in pieces.

You know you can't go back and change things. Hell, you couldn't have done anything different. You have a mortgage, insurance, and children to look after. You can't throw it all away on one man's ego.

Still, you did something wrong. Something unforgivable. If you think Pete hates you now, he's going to despise you. And you might just lose everything anyway.

You sit and bend over, holding your head. God, you're stupid and weak and awful. You chose this, a family, a man who doesn't care, and a job that gives you nothing but stress. You could've had a better life and never inflicted your mistake on anyone else.

"Mommy," Malik taps your shoulder, startling so you sit up too fast, nearly falling out of the chair, "mommy, the stove."

You look over at the pot boils over, hissing and bubbling. Great, now you've burnt the chicken noodle. You get up and quickly flip off the burner and move the pot to the next one.

"How about some vegetable soup, huh?" You offer, "sorry, Mal."

"Are you okay, mommy?" He pouts as he stands in his dinosaur pajamas.

"Yeah, yeah, mom's just tired," you answer, "go sit down. I'll clean this up. Then it should be time to go pick up Simone."

He mumbles and leaves you. You look at the burnt soup, curdled and filmy and black around the edges. Usually, you just want Pete home but tonight, you don't know what you're going to do when he gets in. You can be sure it'll be a sleepless night.

🗄️

You spend the evening avoiding your phone. It's easy. You sit and help Simone with her homework as Malik colours at the other side of the table. After dinner you get them washed up and in their pajamas in time for bed.

You can’t help but try to suck up every second. You don’t want to lose this. It can be hard, Pete’s long hours, your sore hips, the children’s antics. It can be utterly defeating but you don’t want to lose it all. Maybe you should’ve tried sooner to fix things, maybe if you did, Pete might believe you didn’t want to do what you did.

Once the kids are asleep, you're left to yourself but not really. You clean the kitchen and get lunches packed for the next day. You switch the laundry before you head up to bed but leave the light on as you lay down. 

It’s a mirror of the night before, except you’re not the one with your tail between your legs. Pete gets home as late as ever. You want to be mad that he's only there on weekends to see the kids. Yet, you don't see much of him then either.

He comes upstairs, pushing back his hair as he enters, blanching as he sees you awake. His face falls and he runs his fingers around his stubbly lips. You don't say anything as he loosens his tie and sighs.

"Please, I don't wanna argue tonight," he says as he sheds his blazer, "it's been a long day."

"Alright," you agree, fighting not to squirm as your stomach flips. "But… I wanna talk about something."

"Look, we're almost there. The hard part's almost over," he explains as he unbuttons his shirt, "we're about to hit oil with this thing."

"I know, but… there's something we need to talk about–"

He closes his eyes and hangs his head back as he peels off his shirt. He's in good shape still. You suppose making your own hours gives you a lot of time for the gym.

"Can I take a shower first?" He huffs.

"Sure," you murmur. He's trying to wait you out, hoping you fall asleep before he's done. "Take a shower."

His brows rise and fall and he turns away as he digs in his pocket. He pulls out his phone and plugs it in, leaving it face down on the dresser. He unclasps the gold chain around his wrist and puts it in the jewelry tray with his watch. You watch his hands.

"Where's your ring?" You ask as you focus on his fingers.

"Oh, uh, fuck," he sniffs, "must've left it in my gym bag again."

"Mmm," you him and don't comment further. 

You look down at your own band, twisting it on your finger as your inside rot with guilt. You have to face this. You have to be honest. As much as it hurts you. As much as it'll hurt you.

He moves around the room. He misses the hamper again, this time his underwear fall on the floor. You want to cry as more than just the weight of your confession crushes you. It’s all of it. The years of distance between you, the memory of good days far behind, what you’ll never have again.

The bathroom door shuts and you look up again. You get up, needing to walk off the excess energy. You pace in circles and wring your hands. You want to rehearse what you should say but you got nothing. 

You hear the subtle buzz and pause. You go back to the bed and take your phone off the night table. Nothing. Not even a notification for that dumb matching game you played once while waiting at the doctor's office.

You set it back down and go back to your aimless circling. You hear it again and again. It's annoying. Tweaking your already addled nerves. 

You look around and see Pete's phone, the edges limned in the glow of the overturned screen. You cross the room and flip it over to turn the volume down. You stop as the newest message pops across the top.

'Hey babe, can't wait for Saturday. Bikini or no suit at all?' 

You read it once, twice, several times before your shock fully sets in. What? Your heart drops as you put his phone back as you found it and back away. 

You sit on the bed and stare at the bathroom door. Things can always get worse, that's your bitter mantra. You swallow as your eyes brim with tears and your throat locks up. You listen to the showerhead buzz.

You were prepared to be the bad guy. To lay yourself bare and plead mercy. You psyched yourself up to face the music but you're unprepared for this. 

You get up and turn off the lamp. You get into bed and face away from the bathroom, just like most nights. You pull the blanket to your shoulders and close your eyes. You measure your breaths to keep from crying. Once you start, you won't be able to stop.

When Pete finishes, you're still awake. Sleep? That's a joke. You just lay there and listen to him move around. When he comes to bed, he doesn't try to talk to you or wake you up.

You open your eyes and see the glow of his phone outlining your silhouette against the wall. You gulp, careful not to give yourself away. He groans and he types away on his phone. Right beside you… like you don't exist. You're just an afterthought for him. Just like your vows. Just like the kids.

As low as you thought you were that morning, you’ve sunk even further. Would he even care if he knew? You’re so unlovable, he probably wouldn’t even believe another man would let you touch them.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Hiiii 💕💕💕

For the wip game (the highlighted ones)

-❤️🪐

Hello!! For you since you’ve been interested in it for awhile and i promised you a scene ages ago and only just now finished it: big heart, I wanna let it bleed, aka buck joins the team younger fic! Here’s a complete drabble about them running into Phillip on a call…

They’re not in an enclosed space but, somehow, the kid’s laughter is still echoing around them. Bobby tries to bite down on his smile as he calls a vaguely warning “Buck,” though he’s not too worried about professionalism seeing as the surfer — who’s trunks are truly mystifyingly tangled on his board — is cracking up even harder. He’s sort of… hung up there, board stuck nose down in the sand, man dangling up on the back end of it. They seem too far up the beach for a wave to have done this, but what does Bobby know, he’s from a landlocked state.

“Sorry, Cap,” Buck wheezes. “Do we, uh… need the ladder?”

Bobby takes a measured inhale as he hears some kind of frantically smothered squeak sound coming from — is that Chimney? One of the paramedics, anyway — and shakes his head. “I think we can just lower the board down, if you’ll give me a hand. That sound alright to you, sir?”

The surfer gets through a few more wheezing chuckles before he can say “Yeah dude, lower away.”

They manage it pretty smoothly, with him and Buck on either side and Hen and Chim ready to catch the weight of the surfer. Hen starts off the next small round of laughter as she tries to de-tangle the swim trunks to move their vic, but everybody manages to calm down as they get to the actual medical examination.

As Hen and Chimney poke and prod, Buck chatters. “I learned to surf a few years ago, over in the Carolinas.”

“No shit?” The surfer grins. “Like Charleston? I gotta cousin over there.”

“Yeah, Folly Beach sometimes, but mostly went up to the Banks.”

“Sick.” The surfer gestures to where Hen’s wrapping some gauze around his bloodied elbow. “What’s your worst wipeout?”

Buck laughs again, a little delighted sound, always happy to be included. “Oh man- My first time out on the water, like the second wave I ever caught, just tossed me right off completely.” He tugs up his shirt before Bobby dawn shake his head not to, and twists around to show a jagged old scar on his lower back. “Landed on some rocks, needed fourteen stitches.”

The surfer whistles as Hen shakes her head. “I don’t think you’ll need any stitches for this one, but there’s enough debris in there I’m gonna recommend we take you to the hospital so they can get it all out.”

“Sure thing,” the guy says, looking more relaxed than Buck taking a nap on the couch after second helpings of mac and cheese. “Thanks man.”

“No problem,” Bobby says, definitely no trace of a chuckle in his voice no matter the delighted glances his team sends him.

The surfer tries to twist towards Buck once they get him on the gurney, winces, and then just turns his head. “You ever surf out here?”

“Have a few times, but I don't have a board or anything.”

“Man, you should come out and join us! We got a group most weekday mornings, I'm sure somebody could get you set up.”

Buck looks happy as a dog with a bone, glancing at Bobby with a mile wide grin. It's a familiar kind of look, though it takes until they're almost at the ambulance — Buck chatting away all the while — for him to place it, and it nearly makes him stumble when he does. Robert would give him that look when he made a new friend on the playground and got invited to hang out. Please, Dad, can I go? He's sure Buck didn't mean anything by it. Bobby doesn't have that authority in his life, nicknames and Springsteen concerts nothing that adds up to a tangible connection. And the kid- well, he's not a kid. 25 years old, can arrange his own playdates perfectly well. Still, Bobby feels a little off kilter as they load the ambulance.

“Rad, man, see you around.” The surfer is grinning at Buck, two happy little suns shining at each other. “Ask for Stevey,” he says, loosely pointing at himself. Steven Barney, he'd given as his name to dispatch.

Buck smiles, waves goodbye. “I'm-”

“Evan?”

Buck turns like a man in a haunted house, startled at an impossible sound with all the color draining out of him. The apparition takes the appearance of a white man a little older than Bobby, wearing neat, pale clothes and a sort of constipated, caught expression. They see that look on calls sometimes, with men who are going through an emergency with women who are not their wives and who are still trying to pretend they've done nothing at all untoward.

“D-” Buck blinks, a few times, hard. “Dad?”

Bobby can't help joining in Hen and Chin's shared oh shit look. There's not an overly familiar resemblance between the two — perhaps a shared stake in forehead real estate — but the man doesn't refute it. “I'll let you get back to work,” he says, glancing towards the sea, the ambulance, eyes landing briefly on Bobby before jumping away again, startled.

“Wait, wh-” Buck steps forward, hand wandering out in front of him before dropping back to his side. “What are you doing in LA? Did you have- a-a work trip?”

Buck's father clears his throat. “It's Brian’s birthday.”

“Oh,” Buck says, blinking again, rapidly this time, a fish thrown in new water. “He- he lives in California now?”

“No, no,” the man says dismissively, like he doesn't know why anyone on earth would choose to live in California. “He’s retiring early, wanted to make a weekend of it.”

“So-” Buck scrambles, visibly, and it makes Bobby aware of the small audience of first responders (and surfer), so he closes the ambulance door despite Hen and Chim’s wide eyes and shaking heads, and thumps the back so they pull away. Buck doesn’t seem to notice either way. “You’re- you’re here for a few days? We should- we could go get lunch? I-I have to work until tomorrow morning but-”

“It’s a busy weekend,” the man grumbles, doing a motion with his hands almost like he's patting himself down to make sure he has his wallet, the movements of someone making sure they're good to leave. “I won't have the time.”

Buck stands there, looking more wounded than any of the times he's been banged up on calls. “I- haven't seen you in- in like four years-”

“And who's fault is that?” His father laughs dismissively. “If you want to run off and throw your life away you can't complain about it later.”

“I-I didn't, I like what I- I have a job, I- I found…” Buck frowns, and Bobby worries for a moment he's going to cry out here in front of his father and colleagues and the beach goers of Santa Monica. He holds it together, though. “I like it here, and I like my job, and I'd like to tell you about it-”

“I won't have the time, Evan.” He doesn't even consider for a moment backing out of his obvious lie. “You can call next week if you want. Your mother will be glad to know you're in one piece.”

“Okay,” Buck says, shoulders sinking down and turning in. He goes from a 6’3” wall of muscle to a lost child right before Bobby’s eyes, hell of a magic trick. “Sorry,” Buck says, as Bobby does some math, works backwards a little. Fourteen stitches, definitely more recent than four years ago. He thinks about the laws of physics, or at least traffic, he’d break if he knew Robert was bleeding in an ocean somewhere in the world. “Sorry,” Buck says again — why, why should he be apologizing — and nods a few times. “I’ll- I’ll make sure to call.”

His father nods back. “We still work, so-”

“Yeah, after five, I know.”

“And your mother has book club on Tuesdays.”

“Okay.” Smaller, and smaller. Bobby remembers reading Alice in Wonderland to Brook, wonders how big Buck’s pool of tears is to shrink him so much. “I’ll just-” Buck clenches his fists, just for a moment, and then hides them in his pockets. “I’ll just try. If you’re busy you don’t have to pick up.”

Oh, God, give an inch and they’ll take a mile. Buck’s father looks visibly relieved at the offer of plausible deniability. “Alright.” He doesn’t move to hug his son, doesn’t even reach out for a handshake, staying a careful several feet away. “I’m sure you need to get back to your job,” he says, raising eyebrows in Bobby’s direction. It makes him bristle, he doesn’t want to be a forced coconspirator in judging Buck for something he hasn’t even done wrong. Buck wilts even further beside him. His father gives one final nod. “Goodbye, Evan.”

He’s already walking away by the time Buck says “Bye, Dad.”

And then they’re all just standing there. Hen and Chimney went off to the hospital, sure, but there’s still a handful of firefighters lingering around, either trying to make a lot of eye contact or no eye contact at all. Buck stares firmly at the ground. Bobby clears his throat.

“Alright, let's pack it up.” If they were operating under any other circumstance Bobby might compliment his crew for how quickly and quietly they get loaded into the trucks.

The ride back to the station is quiet, too, usual engine chit chat locked in everyone’s throats. Bobby’s pretty sure he sees Nichols subtly and somewhat frantically typing on his phone. Mostly, though, he watches Buck in the rearview. The kid is staring resolutely out the window, but Bobby would bet he’s not seeing a thing. His leg bounces on the seat, and Rodriguez doesn't even do the polite cut-it-out cough. Bobby wonders how many of Buck's stories he's overheard, if he's also now watching them tilt, shift, rearrange in his head. Dumb little boy stuff, skateboard-bike-motorcycle stunts, climbing up trees to fall out of them, all told with class clown energy, wasn't I stupid but wasn't it fun, wasn't it funny? Bobby got up to some shit when he was a kid, trailing after Charlie and taking any ill-advised dare the older kids tossed out to him, but he got hurt and he went home, his mom kissed his scrapes, even his dad would ruffle his hair and grab the first aid kit on his good days. Bobby looks at Buck looking out at nothing and tries to count the broken bones scattered between the big grins and his audience’s corresponding groans, tries to imagine Buck — all his silliness, all his sunshine — going home hurt to parents whose care comes with office hours.

When they pull into the station everyone flees the engine like there’d been a chemical spill, leaving Buck standing alone silhouetted against shiny scarlet paint. Bobby hesitates, one foot still up on the truck bed. He doesn’t want to overstep, but- he can’t stop thinking about how far away Buck’s father stood. The kid deserves someone to come closer. He only wished there was someone better than himself around to do it.

“Hey, kid-”

“I never knew what I did wrong.” Buck is frowning into middle distance, shoulders still tucked in around him. “I- I know I was stupid in- in high school, and college, but-” he looks right at Bobby, eyes wide, and he looks- oh, kid, come home. You’re hurting, come home, you’ll be taken care of, I got a first aid kid at least and I’ll learn to do better than that. “It was always like this- I-” Buck shrugs and here, finally, come the tears. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bobby says, and it's only two steps over to him, and he’s never even casually side hugged this kid before but Buck sinks right into his arms.

“You can’t know that-”

“I can.” Buck’s so tall. Bobby’s not sure the last time he hugged somebody taller than him. He wonders how tall his dad was, looming so large in memory but an unknown in actual imperial measurement. He wonders how tall Robert would’ve gotten. “You were a kid. You were their kid. There’s nothing you could have done that was so bad they shouldn’t have loved you anyway.”

Buck shudders against him, and his shoulder is getting wet, and the ambulance will be back soon and there’s firefighters milling about and, always, work to do.

But they can take a little time here. Bobby’ll bend it around, if he has to. The laws of traffic, the laws of physics. It startles him, scares him a little, but- he’d break them for Buck, too.

[writerblue275]

hi i love ur work so much and ive been racking up the courage to try and make a request so here we go. uhm. can you do maybe an irritated/upset!reader and how the heartsteel boys would comfort them? or vice versa with them being upset and the best way to comfort them/reader trying to comfort them.. idk loll. (ily again btw ur works giv me life)

Hello sweet Anon!! I’m so happy you enjoy my work! Thank you for the lovely words, they mean a lot to me. And thank you for requesting!! I totally get it. I’m a very anxious person so I definitely have to work up the courage to request or comment on stuff. But I promise I don’t bite (like 99.999999% of the time)!💙

How Heartsteel would comfort an upset/frustrated reader

Inspiration: So I know I said I’d work on requests generally in the order they’re sent, but I was literally in the process of doing basically this as a non-requested WiP. Because lately life has been TRYING. ME. 🙃 (I will neither confirm nor deny having multiple stress cries in my car the past week.) So even though this is my newest request, since I was already working on something like this, I might as well combine the two. I think I’ll just keep this to them comforting the reader, but I like the idea of doing a separate one where reader comforts the Heartsteel members. Also listen, I absolutely love me a good comfort moment. I melt.

Genre: Headcanon (with some fake texts??? Trying something a little new here.)

Type: A bit angsty just because you’re upset, but fluff because comfort.

Gender: Gender Neutral Reader!

TW: General hurt/comfort. Mentions of a no good very bad day/week for reader. Swearing.

Aphelios

I think Aphelios would actually do comfort pretty damn well. He’s also used to being stressed and tired and upset about things (because let’s be real he works so hard. Too hard sometimes) so he’d be great to turn to.

One thing I think Phel would do, if you do visit him in his studio, is play music to distract your mind a bit from whatever has you so upset. Now this might be through a file he’s already recorded on his computer and sent to Yone to be mixed. However, he also just has a shit ton of different instruments in his work space.

So pick one for him to play and he’s happy to do so. You get like a mini concert from an instrumental prodigy! Or even better, pick one that you want to try! He’s happy to teach you some basics on how to play it.

And it doesn’t matter how badly you might sound as you attempt to play an instrument for the first time, Phel’s nodding and clapping as if you just finished giving an incredible performance. Every time. Because he supports you. (Though he will use some very very light teasing occasionally, but he’s joking.)

And he’d definitely order some food in and cuddle or nap with you on his studio couch (which is so mind-blowingly comfortable for some reason). And once you are eating and settled together and in a better mood, then he’d ask if you want to talk about things.

And you don’t have to. He’s happy to continue to keep your mind on happier things. Phel also has a couple gaming consoles hooked up to a tv that you can play with him/watch him play. But he’s also happy to just let you talk and get everything off your chest. (He’s just so supportive oh my god.)

Ezreal

(I enjoyed getting to break out a little millennial/Gen-Z slang here lmao.)

If Ezreal has one goal in your relationship, it’s to try and make you smile as much as possible. He hates seeing you upset or frustrated about something. And he will do anything to help get the smile he adores back on your face.

So when you do come to him upset about something, his internal alarm is just going bonkers. DEFCON 1 level shit. 🚨🚨🚨

If you want comfort? Ezreal’s going to give it to you. He already loves cuddling you so you can have all the therapeutic cuddles your heart desires with him (god bless his love language of physical touch). And he’s more than happy to play with your hair or do whatever actions help you relax the most.

You wouldn’t even have to ask him, he’d already have your favorite comfort food ordered and he’d go pick it up (or have it delivered). He fully know your order by heart.

Builds the BEST pillow forts to unwind in. Truly an expert. Ezreal even decorates it a little bit with some of your favorite comfort things. And as his texts said, pick anything you want to watch. Whether that is a movie, show, gaming streamer, him gaming, it DOES. NOT. MATTER. It’s all up to you. Also if you want him to sing to you he absolutely will, no question. (Can you imagine? HEAVEN!)

He’d let you take the lead on whether or not you want to tell him what has you so upset. He knows stewing in your emotions isn’t always productive, but sometimes talking about things when they’re so fresh in your mind can make the feelings more intense. And while he’s not the go-to guy for advice, he’s an excellent listener. As long as he can play with your hands or hair or something, he’s fully tuned in, letting you get everything off your chest.

He’s such a great example of golden retriever boyfriend, and if golden retrievers are good at anything, it’s comfort and making people happy. So don’t you worry, Ez will have you smiling again in no time.

Kayn

So when it comes to Kayn, comfort is very interesting to think about. Definitely feel like he approaches comfort differently from, say, Ezreal, but he has his own special ways of supporting you and helping you reach a better mindset.

If he can tell you’re frustrated or angry or the type of upset that requires a little bit of rage release, he’s fully on board to go to a rage room with you so you can get out everything you’re feeling in a controlled and safe environment.

And you absolutely know Kayn’s cheering you on the entire time. “FUCK yeah baby! Show that wine bottle who’s boss!” Or “That’s it, Sexy. Work has been driving you nuts right? Take it out on this shitty copier. Fuck it up!” Or *softball pitches a vase to you while you’re standing at-bat*

He’s fully supportive. And if expressing your feelings requires more of an artistic approach, that works for him too. He has a small room that has been turned into an art studio where he goes to practice his graffiti (in a way that’s legal) and he would gladly let you use it. Or he’ll let you play with his guitars if you want. (You’re one of the VERY FEW who can. You, Phel, and Yone.)

And if you just need to talk out your feelings, Kayn’s going to be there to listen, only interjecting if he has questions or if he’s commenting something supportive. “Of course you’re upset, baby. That’s bullshit and would piss me off too!”

And his love language (giving) is physical touch. So if you just want him to hold you while you cry, he can do that. And physical touch doesn’t just mean holding you. Like his hands would just be gently wandering. Nothing suggestive necessarily, but just reassuring. Like rubbing your back or your arms. Playing with your hair. Stuff like that.

It absolutely breaks Kayn’s heart to see you cry. He will do anything to keep you from crying/make you feel better when you are upset. (Again 🤫🤫🤫🤫 don’t tell anyone but he’s a huge softie for you!)

K’Sante

As mentioned in previous headcanons K’Sante gives off the vibes of someone who is just amazing to talk to. And that absolutely applies when it comes to helping you feel better when you’re upset.

Just an absolutely incredible listener. Vent as much as you want to him. He’ll listen to every single word you say. And when I say listen, I mean fully tuned in. You have his undivided attention. (How could he give his partner any less??? He couldn’t, is the answer.)

And if you ask K’Sante for advice? He’s offering you sincere and thought out advice. He truly wants to help you, always.

Now beyond talking, he can also make a mean meal in the kitchen (even if Sett is the official best cook). So you’re going to enjoy some really excellent food. Either your favorite or one of his favorite comfort foods. And that’s never a bad thing.

You’re also receiving some prime cuddles. Have you seen K’Sante??? He loves holding you. And leaning against that broad chest while his arms wrap around you seems like a great way to feel better.

Oh and even better? He will absolutely sing for you if you ask. (Which bestie…how could you not??) His voice is so lovely too. And he will sing any song you want him to. (Though he definitely already knows your favorites that he can pull out if you don’t feel like picking anything/making decisions.)

K’Sante is just someone who would be amazing at comforting you. He’ll go the extra mile in helping you feel better and making sure you know he’s always got your back.

Sett

Sett would be phenomenal at comforting you when you’re upset. He loves to see you smile and will do anything to help bring a smile back to your beautiful face. (Remember his love language is acts of service).

He’d make your favorite comfort food. And hell even that would go a long way in helping you. He cooks with so much love.

And the CUDDLES. Oh my god cuddles with Sett would be 😩👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻. He’s so soft with the people he loves. And he loves YOU.

He’d pull you into his lap, wrap those lovely arms around you, and let you get comfy. And only when he can hear your breathing level out and feel you relax in his arms would he ask about what has you so upset.

And as you’re talking Sett would give you the gentlest little forehead/to-of-the-head kisses and rub your back and stuff. And he’d be such an excellent listener. He’d let you unburden yourself first before talking. He’d also ask if you just want comfort or if you want his advice. He realizes sometimes we all just need someone to listen while we vent and we don’t necessarily need people to give advice. And he respects what you want.

And if you’re ever angry/frustrated-upset, he’d offer to grab his boxing training pads and let you safely hit out your anger. He knows how cathartic that can be. And if you take him up on that, he’s cheering you on the whole way. (Such a hype man.)

And after dinner, he’d give you a couple options. Bath? Massage? More cuddles? Whatever you want, you get. Sett will take care of everything.

Yone

(A/N: The amount of time I spent trying to come up with a better contact name for him…but he’s just so 🥰.)

Yone would be EXCELLENT to turn to when you’re upset. There’s no one who understands work stress more than him (if that’s the problem), and he has all the tools to help you feel better, whatever the issue is.

One of the things Yone is best at is calming you down. Something about his vibe is just very grounding, which is super important when your emotions are running high.

He is absolutely someone who meditates regularly/uses incense and such. (He would have killed his band members by now if he didn’t.) So when you either come to him or call him and he can tell you’re upset/frustrated, I think he’d first do some breathing exercises with you to help settle you down and help you get your emotions back to a more manageable place.

If you’re with him in person, he’d light some of your favorite incense that he always has stocked for you and pull you down to sit in his lap so he can hold you. Because he knows you feel better when he does.

Once Yone can tell you’re in a much calmer state of mind, only then would he ask if you want to talk about things. And he’s truly leaving that up to you.

And once you’ve cuddled for a little bit, and finished talking if you do end up telling him, then he’ll definitely just keep you on his lap and work with you there. He knows you love watching him work on music. He’ll pass you your own set of headphones that he has plugged into a splitter, so you can hear what he’s doing. He’ll even ask for your input. (Nothing too technical unless you have a musical background, but more so “Which of these sounds better, my love?” Or “What do you think, baby? Instrumentals too busy?”) He also gives you the occasional forehead kiss while he works, and those are the BEST.

Yone just gives off such a peaceful vibe (when he’s not stressed by his band members), and that sort of energy is perfect to be around when you’re upset and you need comfort.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. This really helped me feel better I must say. Thank you Anon for requesting this too, and I hope I did your request justice! 💙

[sonicboomrevisited]

THE WEEKLY CHECK-IN

Issue 2 Updates:

6/22 Pages have been fully inked

Page 7 is still in the sketching process, but I hope to have the inks started today!

I am technically ahead of schedule on inking pages! Yay!

Issue 1 Page 13 WIPS:

You guys voted last week on what you'd like to see from this blog between now and issue 2s release. WIPs from issue 1 won! Every week, I'll showcase a page. This week I've chosen page 13!

The Initial Sketch: When I first start working on a comic page, I always focus on getting the general layout of the page done first. This means understanding how the panels fit together and jotting down a general sense of the action. You may notice that some of these initial plans changed in the final version. I wasn't originally going to have Amy hit Sonic with her Piko Piko hammer and panel 4 was going to have Sonic kicking Amy again rather than vaulting over her. I wish I had saved more of the in-between sketches to show you guys how these evolved overtime, but I just didn't think to do it during the process. I'm saving a lot of the sketches during Issue 2, though to make up for it!

Final Ink: A page without color! You can see how some of the sizing on the boxes changed, Sonic's surprised face was turned around to better fit with his new vaulting pose and what I originally intended to be a fully in-shadow panel was turned into just having Knuckles in Shadow. This is one of the prettier inks in my opinion. It's the first page that I felt completely happy with the art once it was finished. Looking back now there are things I would do differently, but I can still be proud of it.

Color: And here's the final product, without text, in all it's glory! Coloring is not my strongest suit. In fact, every time I draw something complicated I think about how much trouble its going to be to color later. I'm always up for the challenge, though. If I were to go back and color this page again, however, I probably wouldn't use so many gradients on the background.

Let me know what WIPS from Issue 1 you'd like to see next or if you have any questions about page 13!