#i hoped there would be more sneaks but no :((

[dreamscapeee222]

hihii i hope ur doing well and that ur day is okay! I want to request and sorry for disturbing you..😔

Can i ask for like a arcane characters x reader whos lazy and sleeps literally all day it ain't healthy and lowki refuse to do any type of physical labor? Yet at the same time they strong af and can handle their opponents just fine they js rather not too? Lol like they have sm potential and they know it yet they dont wanna utilize it

It's ok u dont wanna do it heheh

A/n: Don't worry lol soo I hope you like it !!

You sleep all the time

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

Vi storms into the room, frustration etched across her face. “Seriously? You’re just gonna sit there while I’m breaking my back out here?” Her voice rises slightly, but you don’t flinch. Instead, you lift your head from your spot on the couch and grin.

“If you’ve got it handled, why would I bother?” you reply, stretching like a cat.

She growls under her breath, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re impossible!”

But the moment chaos breaks out in the Lanes, you’re the first to move. Vi watches in awe as you take down an entire group of enforcers like it’s a casual workout. By the time she catches up, you’re already dusting your hands off and heading back to your nap spot.

“Next time, warn me before you go Hulk-mode,” she mutters, but there’s admiration in her smirk.

Jinx

Jinx is sprawled across the workshop table, tossing random tools in the air. “You know, you’re like a sloth. A really ripped sloth. Like, how does that even happen?”

“Natural talent,” you reply lazily, barely opening your eyes from your nap.

She doesn’t let up, poking you with a wrench. “C’mon, do something cool! Throw me across the room or something.”

It’s not until you hear the unmistakable sound of danger—an intruder sneaking into her lair—that you move. In a flash, you’ve subdued the threat, pinning them down effortlessly. Jinx whistles low.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I take it back. You’re more of a lion pretending to be a house cat.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn has tried every method to get you off your metaphorical couch—reasoning, bribing, even a structured plan—but nothing sticks. You always shrug her off with a lazy smile.

“Why should I lift a finger when I can just avoid it altogether?” you tease.

Her patience wears thin when a high-stakes chase leads to her being cornered by an armed gang. She’s mentally preparing herself for a fight when you appear out of nowhere, effortlessly disarming every single one of them.

“I thought you didn’t want to do physical labor,” she says, breathless.

“Only when it’s boring,” you reply, cracking a rare grin.

Ekko

Ekko can’t understand why you refuse to help out with the Firelights. “You’ve got so much potential! We need you!”

You wave him off, yawning. “You’ve got this under control, don’t you?”

It’s not until you both get ambushed during a supply run that he sees your strength firsthand. One moment you’re lounging against a wall, the next you’re tossing attackers left and right, your movements precise and calculated.

Ekko is stunned into silence as the dust settles.

“Guess I should help more often, huh?” you say with a smirk. He shakes his head, grinning. “Yeah, maybe. Just don’t get used to slacking again.”

Jayce

Jayce sees your laziness as both a mystery and a challenge. “You could be a hero, you know. Why don’t you want to make a difference?”

“Because saving the world is exhausting,” you reply, sprawled out across his lab bench.

He’s about to launch into another lecture when a loud crash interrupts him. Someone’s trying to steal Hextech. Before Jayce can react, you’re already there, lifting the thief like they weigh nothing and tossing them out the door.

Jayce stares at you, wide-eyed. “Why don’t you do that all the time?”

“Because you’re here to handle it,” you say with a wink.

Viktor

Viktor watches you curiously, his analytical mind trying to piece together your contradictions. “You possess remarkable strength, yet you avoid its application. Why?”

“Because life’s too short to sweat the small stuff,” you reply, lounging against the wall.

He doesn’t fully understand your logic until one of Silco’s men shows up, trying to intimidate him. You intervene without hesitation, dismantling the threat with clinical precision.

Viktor blinks in surprise. “You are an enigma.”

You grin lazily. “And you’re welcome.”

Mel

Mel’s sharp gaze follows you as you avoid yet another council meeting. “You could achieve so much if you applied yourself,” she says, her voice dripping with intrigue.

“Or I could enjoy my life without unnecessary effort,” you counter, reclining in her lavish chair.

When the council chambers are attacked, she doesn’t expect you to act—but you do. With a flick of your wrist, you disarm the attackers, your movements a perfect blend of power and elegance.

Mel’s lips curve into a small smile. “Perhaps I underestimated you.”

“And perhaps I prefer it that way,” you reply, settling back down as if nothing happened.

See pinned.

[yapileon]

@TacklersCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 4

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader 3569w pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3

phew! that's a long one, but i'm really proud of it, i've tried to get more comfortable in my pacing, hope u guys like it<3

The grass still smelled the same, bringing back unwanted memories of yesterday’s humiliation. Sweat ran down your forehead as you used your shirt to wipe it off; Ona would be proud of that move. The exhaustion got the best of you and you let yourself flop on the turf, breathing heavily and rolling on your back. Every coach who had ever trained you had told you to walk it off, but there wasn't any scientific evidence of that, and more importantly, there were no coaches around you.

The Barcelona sky was bright blue, though you could spot a few clouds here and there. If you were in a better mood, you’d have tried to guess what object their shape matched. The gentle wind caressed your face and you couldn’t contain a shiver. When you had arrived earlier in the morning, it was still dark, and you had witnessed the sun rise. Yesterday’s mistake pushed you to come to the field early to train. You needed to plunge your head back in the game, and quickly. The taste of humiliation still bitter in your mouth.

You had pushed yourself through multiple sets of drills, though none that would really improve your timing as you were training alone. But still, you knew you needed to run off the embarrassment, so you tackled shadow opponents, working on quickly going up and down. You sprinted until it felt like your legs would fall off. You did so many ball control exercises with intricate cones patterns it made your head spin. The previously pristine pitch now scattered with proofs of your training while you lay sprawled on the ground.

A voice shut up behind you, startling you in the process. “You do know what recovery day means, right?” The blonde had a disapproving tone matching the look on her face. “You’re not supposed to sneak in extra practice.” she finishes sternly. You gave your capitain a sheepish look.

“Running never hurt anyone?” you tried, but it seemed like Alexia wasn’t having any of it. So you followed up, “Why are you here anyways, are you not supposed to be in the recovery room?”

The older woman was not impressed.

“Part of the recovery plan today is to have an activation session.” she glared at you and you felt your body shrink in the dirt. At that, her voice softened when she added “Now stop being snarky and tell me what’s wrong, Cariño.” Her gaze felt heavy on you, like she was trying to see right through you. Maybe she did.

You open your mouth to speak but words are caught in your throat, no sounds leaving the tip of your tongue. Your hands are clenched and you can’t help but stare at them, or really anything but Alexia standing in front of you. The blonde sighed, and gently came to lay with you on the pitch.

Alexia isn’t sure of what to do. For the few days she has known you, you were always such a cheerful and energetic person. You managed to coax smiles out of the most serious players, all because your chaotic aura was incredibly endearing. She guessed your personality might have fooled them all, you’re still only a child after all. Seventeen and so much pressure on your shoulders.

“You’re doing great you know” she starts her voice warm, but you look up at her, frowning.

“I tackled a cone yesterday.” you whisper, words spilling out of your mouth before you could really think about it.

She frowns. “…That’s what it’s about?” her head tilts, giving away her confusion.

“Well, I mean, It’s just…” you struggle to piece together a correct phrase. You look up to see Alexia giving you a gentle, encouraging smile, and somehow it’s enough to send you in a ramble.

“Because, I’m trying really hard! But then I messed up that tackle. And, and! The Mapi cardboard, it was just to be funny, since we had talked about it during team bonding.” You rattled, gesturing without making much sense.

“But fans aren’t happy with me, and they’re right! I’m here to play football, because it’s my job! You guys shouldn’t have to deal with this, we’re not here to have fun, It’s not- I shouldn’t-” Your distress was cut off by Alexia, pulling you in her arms, but you can’t stop yourself. “I just, I should not be making everyone’s life harder,” your voice breaks and you clutch at your captain like your life depends on it.

The blonde gently caresses you back, shushing you and you feel yourself sink into her.

“Why are you apologizing? You have done nothing wrong, I promise you no one is mad at you, for anything. You’ve made us laugh so much in so little time, and we can see you’re working hard,” her voice is full of gentleness, and you can tell she really means it. She gently wipes away some of your tears with her sleeve.

“The cone!” you half sob on her shoulder.

A chuckle escaped Alexia’s lips and she slapped a hand on her mouth, you recoiled, audibly gasping and looking at her with wide eyes.

And the absurdity of the situation hit you like a freight train.

You were somewhere between a laugh and a cry now, “It’s not funny!” you whined, pushing her shoulder with your hand.

“Perdón, Cariño” the blonde chuckled, “It’s just, all this for a cone?”

You pouted, and the captain shook your shoulder slightly, giving them a squeeze.

“You’ve just been promoted to one of the best clubs in the world, you’re fitting in really well, you’ve got potential and Mapi is basically your mentor already, but you’re worried about one failed tackle?” she questioned with a smirk.

You hid your face in your hands. It seemed so stupid said like that, and you felt so embarrassed and vulnerable. Alexia got up, clutching your hand in hers to pull you with her.

“Come on, Diablilla, let’s go get changed before activation begins, sí? ” she awkwardly patted your head and started dragging you toward the locker room. “Oh and, I think Mapi is going to want to see your cardboard soon again, apparently she has many ideas for pictures” she said, her voice mixed with amusement and disapproval while you chuckled.

Alexia really did find you very endearing, and she knew the whole team felt the same way. They just needed to make you understand. It seemed really well timed when Mapi saw you walking in the tunnel and pulled you into her arms.

Her arms squish you into her body, and you give her a weak laugh. When Mapi pulls back and sees traces of tears on your face, she frowns. “¿Estás bien?” she asks you, her face full of concern.

“Better now,” you answer truthfully.

“Actually, Mapi,” you begin, “I wanted to say, thank you. For what you wrote, on the cardboard…You know.” you voice is low and when your eyes meet, you shy away.

When you look back to her though, she’s got a smile going up to her ears, her eyes sparkling. The brunette pinches your cheeks, surprising you.

“Well, look at you being all emotional?” Her voice is full of playfulness and you can tell she’s not going to spot annoying you.

“Mapi! Stop!” you squeal. You two bicker the whole way to the locker room, pushing each other.

She puts her arm over your shoulder and pinches the back of your neck with her thumb and index. “I’m just doing mentor duty, Cariño,” she smirks.

“You’re supposed to be the mature one!” you whine after she tickles you for the third time.

Alexia smiles profoundly seeing you two walking in front of her. You looked so shaken up when she had seen you on the field, she wasn’t sure anything she might tell you would help.

You made your way to the door entry, almost running to escape from Mapi’s rough love. You spotted Ingrid and ran to hide behind her.

“Ingrid! Mapi is annoying me!” you fake a pout.

The Norwegian looks surprised at the forward love you show both Mapi and her. But still, she plays into your game, throwing her arms up to take a more protective role.

“María, leave Skrulla alone.” she says sternly.

Mapi sighs, giving up and going to her place, grumbling bad words at the both of you. You just stick your tongue out at the tattooed woman, earning yourself a disapproving look from Irene. But Vicky’s voice shoots up before you can say anything else.

“Oh Mapi, looks like you’re going to sleep on the couch because of the new kid!” Her voice is teasing, making the whole team bark out a laugh.

You made your way to your locker, still snickering from the scene that had just happened. It felt a bit crazy to you, the way your teammates had managed to get you to calm down from your self deprecating state so quickly. Normally, it would take you days of very rough training to get over a mistake like the one you had done yesterday. Yet, Alexia alone had managed to take so much of the weight off of your shoulders. If the captain of the team, one of the most hardworking people you knew, did not see any trouble with what happened yesterday, then you’d trust her.

You reached for your locker, wanting to get changed in some jogging before going to the activation session, as you won’t be playing football. They mainly consisted of cardio and active stretches.

As you turned the lock open, an avalanche of neon orange and yellow fell in your arms. What felt like close to one hundred cones were spilling from your locker, getting everywhere on you and bouncing off the floor as you tried to catch them.

The whole team laughs as you turn around, mouth wide open and still clutching some of the cones against yourself.

“WHO?!” you scream, still shocked.

“Thought you needed extra tackling practice!” Pina manages to say in between wheezes which sends the team crackling even more. You can feel your cheeks heat up.

“That’s karma for making Ingrid tell off Mapi,” Jana adds, not helping your case.

Then it’s Ona who chimes in, “Looks like Diablilla got tricked,” but you hardly hear them, your eyes get caught into Pina's eyes and she bolts.

“She’s so dead!” you yell as you start chasing Pina, who runs away, still clutching at her ribs from laughing too much.

Pina almost manages to run away until she reaches a dead end in the maze of hallways the stadium is. Instead of letting herself be caught, she simply traces back her steps, feinting you so you can’t trap her, and making a beeline for the locker room, again. You chase her, smirking when you realize her mistake, in the locker room, you’ll be able to trap her.

When Pina bursts through the door of the room where most of your teammates are, quickly followed by yourself, you can hear Caro and Irene telling the both of you off.

But your brain doesn’t register it, you’re too focused on wanting to catch the forward. Pina had spotted Alexia and decided to mirror the situation you were previously in with Mapi and Ingrid, except she literally gripped Alexia and threw her at you, using her like some kind of shield. The look on your captain face is laughable, a mix of shock and bewilderment

“¡Madre mía! Pina, Y/n, Para!” the blonde screams in frustration, trying to separate you like two children fighting.

Except the harsh scolding is enough to distract Pina, giving you time to throw yourself at her, wrestling her to the floor.

Neon colors near you grab your attention, so you pick up one of the flat disks and drop it on top of Pina’s head.

“You got cone-ed!” you squeal, your body vibrating with laughter. You step back and look around the room, everybody is wheezing at your banter. Mapi is absolutely dying from the look on Alexia’s face (who still hasn’t recovered from Pina almost sacrificing her to save her skin) and you’re sure the tattooed woman will never let the captain forget.

Salma and Vicky are snickering while filming the both of you. You’re certain it’s going to be posted on the official fcb account, but you’re laughing so much you can’t bring yourself to be bothered.

Irene shakes her head, “Dios Mío, these kids are more tiring than Mateo.” But the smile tugging at her lips tells you she doesn’t really mean it.

“So, you are all going to inhale for 5 seconds, hold it in for 5 seconds, and then exhale for 5 seconds, we’re going to do it together. Remember to keep your eyes closed.” The yoga teacher said with what she probably thought was a soothing voice.

Apparently, in the weekly recovery session, yoga classes were mandatory. They happened after the activation training, which the coaches probably hoped would help the team settle before yoga. You had gotten through the actual yoga positions well enough. But they were followed by a few minutes of meditation, much to your dismay. Staying still and keeping your mouth close was not something you had ever been good at. Especially not while trying to “clear your thoughts away”. You were sitting in the lotus position, looking around, fully aware you were disrespecting what the instructor had said mere seconds ago.

You audibly sighed when you realized all the women had their eyes closed, deeply uninterested in doing anything else than the breathing exercise. Unfortunately for you, your sigh was heard by Alexia, who opened one eye to shoot daggers at you. You quickly turned your head and shut your eyes. You’d have never guessed the Catalan woman to be so into meditation.

“We’ll redo the same thing, but now, you are going to release all the tension in your body when you exhale,” the teacher continued to dictate.

The collective noise of inhaling was loud in the room full of tranquility.

Suddenly, a piercing screech broke the peacefulness.

“AAAAAAAAAH” you just couldn’t help it, the tension had escaped your body, without meaning to, in a very dramatic way. You froze, not daring to open your eyes and the whole team stilled.

“What was that?!” Mapi exclaimed herself, her voice breaking the silence quickly followed by a snort.

“Did someone just exorcise a demon?” Jana said, faking being scared.

“Someone isn’t feeling very zen,” said Ingrid with an amused voice as she elbowed you in the ribs barely holding in her laughter.

You opened your eyes to see the whole team staring at you, the teacher looked bewildered. You felt yourself sink in the mushy mat, “I didn’t mean to!” you mumbled weakly.

“It’s called the scream it out method! Very trendy,” Pina said, leaning against Patri stile cracking up and you shot her a glare. She was pushing her luck today, and the smirk she gave you confirmed it. The prank war was on.

Even Alexia couldn’t help herself, “That’s certainly not in a yoga manual.”

You let yourself flop back on the mat as you heavily groaned.

“Though I’m sure the tension did leave her body,” replied Frido. You stared at her trying to look annoyed, but the Swedish woman just shrugged, still laughing.

Mapi had apparently managed to calm herself. She had gotten up to plop down next to you. Her eyes were mischievous when said “Why would you just release tension when you can traumatize the entire team by screaming?” and even you couldn’t hold back a chuckle with how proud she looked about her joke.

The “traumatized” team seemed in a very nice mood, all cracking up more as the team continued to pile their jokes on you. You covered your face with your hand, still slightly embarrassed but the chuckle of the whole team made you feel better.

Alexia got up, clapping to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, we’ll stretch out a bit more and then we’re done for the day. And no more screaming, Cariño” she said with a stare. You nodded, giving her an embarrassed smile.

“Wait, that’s all she gets? Last time I did something like that, you made me run 10 laps!” Pina added, looking astonished.

“Only one of us can be the favourite!” you replied. Irene, who was walking behind you, gave you a soft tap on the back of the head making you wince.

“That’s child abuse,” you deadpanned and Irene choked back a snort, giving you a judgmental look.

Mapi and you were exchanging about various defending strategies while you rolled your calves on the foam, frowning when it hit a particular tense spot. The Spaniard was leaning into Ingrid while the Norwegian was chatting with Frido.

The team was scattered into multiple different friend groups and you couldn’t quite believe you had lucked out in the middle of defender heaven. You would have spent more time fangirling about it in your head if you hadn’t been struck with the smartest plan ever.

You knew you wanted to take vengeance for Pina’s prank, but Alexia and Irene, as good captains, were keeping a close eye on you, apparently feeling your prankster aura. But they underestimated your brain, and what you were capable of, really. What was better than being able to mess with someone without them knowing you’d be the one doing it? Ok, tackling an opponent was better. But still, your idea was pretty cool.

A mischievous smile took over your lips as you opened your phone, logging into your fan account to start editing a meme. Once satisfied, you set a timer so it would publish in 10 minutes.

You raised your eyes from the screen to see Mapi staring at you, she was squinting and her head was tilted.

“What is our little Diablilla planning again?” she said with a smirk, loud enough for the two Scandinavians to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re imagining things, Mapi.” you tried to secure your voice as much as possible. You realized using the fan account and posting while surrounded by the team was risky. But you knew nobody has seen you, and with the delayed post? They wouldn’t figure it out. So you placed your phone on the ground, and joined Frido’s and Ingrid’s conversation. You knew both women (all three of them, really) loved coffee, so you couldn’t help yourself when you heard they were speaking about coffee shops.

“Oh! Do you guys know that one place around the corner? I used to go there before practice when I was at La Masia,” you started rambling.

It didn’t seem to bother them though, instead, the women were listening attentively to your story about what you called “the best coffee in the world”. They were so interested in fact, that you all decided you’d go there together tomorrow, and you couldn’t hide the gigantic smile on your face.

The coffee talk was interrupted by Frido’s phone pinging, she picked up the phone, eyes sparkling with interest.

“New post from the TacklerCulers account!” she announced and Ingrid quickly leaned over her shoulder to be able to see the screen.

tacklerculers

posted 36 seconds ago… liked by 259 others.

TacklerCulers: Everybody hold their boots! Pinagoal or, should I say, Spongeboal?

Both women burst out laughing and threw the phone at Mapi so the both of you could have a look too.

“You have to see this!” Ingrid had blurted out between chuckles.

Mapi had looked at them with a curious expression, until her face had changed into one of pure happiness, her eyes crinkling.

“Pina! You’ve been turned into a meme now!” Mapi called out, making the small spanish come running toward you. You gave a knowing chuckle. God, this was even better than you had planned.

“…I don’t know if I should be flattered or annoyed?” she said after being blessed by the sight of that meme.

“Definitely flattered,” you said as innocently as possible, “This is a work of art.”

“This feels like a hate crime.” she shot back, frowning at you.

Frido is laughing harder when she chimes in “It’s already trending, wait till people start showing up to matches with posters of this.” Her statement made Pina frown, putting her hand on her forehead dramatically.

“Actually Pina, that’s really what you looked like,” you add quickly with a smirk.

“Who even runs this account?” the forward shriek, and her eyes narrow at you.

“I’m not brilliant enough I fear,” you reply trying to seem sincere, but you can’t help feeling a cold sweat running down your neck, making the hair stand up, alert.

A few other players had seen the commotion and had come to check it out, eyes full of curiosity. Patri was laughing hard when Frido had tilted the phone to show her.

“The resemblance is uncanny,” she observed.

“I hate you all.” Pina blurted out, sending the whole group gasping for air.

You clutch at your belly from how painful it is to laugh so much. You’re not even trying to hide the fact you’re full on snorting in a loud, uncontrollable way. The joy is warm in your body, filling it delightfully. You’re overwhelmed by a sense of freedom you hadn’t felt in a while, and maybe everything would be ok, after all.

[moonstrider9904]

feuilles d'automne

Steb x fem!Reader (Enforcer)

Summary: Amid your assignment to guard a fancy old folks' home in Piltover, you find yourself speechless when you stumble upon a pair of ocean eyes.

Word count: 3.9k

Tags/warnings: Mature and SFW, flirting, kissing, mild suggestivenes if you squint. Enforcer!Reader. Fluff in general, pre-relationship, first meetings, awkward situations, and I accidently created a side original character who I adore. Enjoy!

Sequel: après la bataille | My Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Thank you to everyone who's read, reblogged, and commented on après la bataille. I did not expect it to be met with so much love and support. Our precious fishman husband would be happy to know such a lovely bunch of people are his fans. You have all made writing these stories all the more fun and enjoyable 💙

The scene before you looked like it could have been taken from an Ionian painting. Rays of golden sunlight peered through the spaces between orange, red, and yellow leaves of many trees around the courtyard of the Verona old folks’ home, a peaceful place that lay in the northern outskirts of Piltover, far away from Zaun and the heart of the city where the shops and the smog could cloud the horizon.

Your assignment was simple: make sure the elderly folks who lived their days out in that home didn’t get into trouble. You couldn’t think of anything less challenging to an enforcer hungry to serve, not that you’d complain. It was work, and it was quite the lovely setting. Standing on the porch of the main building, a large mansion built in white stone with a dark blue stone tile roof, its architectural style being some fusion of classic Piltovan and mild Ionian influences in the details and finishings, you breathed in the clean, fresh air. Your eyes would continue to scan the celestial beams of light bleeding through the trees and eventually finding rest either in the grass, cobblestone paths, or even the small glistening pond at the very center of the courtyard.

On the bridge that went over the pond was an old couple who, according to what you’d heard so far, had known each other since they were children—how beautiful to spend a lifetime next to someone, and to face one’s own twilight in a place as peaceful and beautiful as that, holding the hand of the person who’d been through it all with you. It was a bittersweet thought, but such a place evoked those emotions in you, and suddenly, you felt lonely, longing and yearning for a companion. Regardless, you remained the only enforcer manning your post, forcing yourself to tear your attention away from romanticizing the peace of the scenery you beheld to keep watch of the elderly in your charge, only to be met by—surprise—no signs of trouble.

And then you heard the whistle. You weren’t particularly fond of the high-pitched sound of your own whistle, a part of your gear as an enforcer to use as a first means to dissipate any trouble you encountered, or simply to call attention to anything of note. You weren’t exactly happy by the fact that the whistle you heard at that peaceful moment, now broken, hadn’t been your own. Your knowledge up until that moment had been that you were the only enforcer on duty at the courtyard, and you sooner would have contemplated the possibility of one particularly mischievous elderly woman sneaking it away from you and blowing it to cause her equivalent of a riot in an old folks’ home, than to face the possibility of a counterpart entering the scene to aid in your assignment. When the whistle faded from your ears, you looked over your shoulder.

Only half looking forward to the encounter and with little hopes of it being transcendent, when your eyes caught even a glimpse of the whistle’s perpetrator, you lost the ability to move. Any notion of how to blink or breathe seemed to leave you, and if you were turning your neck to allow your gaze to follow his figure, you were sure it was his doing, drawing your eyes to him like a magnet, rather than your own will. You had just started to feel the air and the sunlight sting at your unblinking eyes, and then you saw that his own were now looking at you. The golden leaves and grass of autumn faded for a moment into an endless oceanic hue that could make you feel immersed in the deepest seas far off the other side of Runeterra. And for the amount of detail you picked up on during that single glance, you could have sworn you’d been staring for ages already—the way his blue-green skin contrasted with the rich blue of his uniform and even more so with the golden landscape, the way his resting face appeared so unamused that it made you fear yourself unworthy of speaking to him, the subtle lines near his jawline that you found out to be gills, and possibly the most stunning of all, the delicate frills crowning his eyes that could nearly be mistaken for the rest of the markings decorating his skin.

And for all the distance in this Vastayan enforcer, his eyes seemed to become more round as he too looked at you, with his gaze visibly softening for a moment while the frills around his eyes moved in a delicate wave before coming to a halt. Your mind replayed that scene for you countless times, and for the way you felt your chest swelling, you figured it was a miracle you weren’t yet flat on the ground.

“Hark,” you squawked, failing miserably in your first attempt to greet him.

He raised a brow and didn’t do much more for gestures, making you wish you could blend into the nearest tree trunk and stay there.

“It is time for them to return inside, is it not?” He finally spoke in a thick, elegant accent, and the rich sound of his voice dissipated your embarrassment. His voice was baritone, deep and far smoother than you could have expected—for a moment you couldn’t believe it could really be coming from him. His striking physique alone was already too much to contend with.

“Y-Yeah,” you brought yourself back to stability, fidgeting among the pouches of your belt to pull out your pocket watch and glanced at the time. 4:01 exactly—yes, it was time for them to go inside, and the telltale hand of the pocket watch tilted slightly off the 12 mark let you know you had been in awe of this man for a solid minute, and you were already done for. The pocket watch may as well have been laughing at you. But you closed it up and put it back into your pouch, exhaling with as much confidence as you could muster. “Yes, 4:00 is the cutoff, and they’re expected to be coming back in to prepare for dinner.”

“Then why aren’t they coming?” He asked, glancing out at the old folks who continued to enjoy their time in the chilly fresh air and sunlight.

“Oh, I usually opt for a different signal,” you answered, taking a step forward and inhaled all the way to your belly. “TIME’S UP, COME IN FOR DINNER!”

Your six words caught the attention of all the elderly scattered in the courtyard and, slowly but surely, they all began making their way towards the porch where you stood, chatting pleasantly amongst themselves and their aides. It was hard for you not to giggle when you looked over at your new acquaintance and saw his round eyes gazing at you, his frills standing upright at the shock of such a loud voice emerging from you.

“I’ve been doing this for a week,” you flaunted.

“I can…” he trailed off for a moment as he flinched his gaze over to the courtyard again. “Tell… though even with your lungs, you missed one.”

You looked in the direction he was gazing, and you weren’t surprised when you saw the youngest soul in the entire old folks’ home getting ready to rebel against your command. The dowager Mrs. Evelyn McCawley, or Granny Evelyn as you’d come to call her, was a short little old woman who made one think of hugs and freshly baked cookies. That day, she was wearing a bright red sweater and her hair was packed into a neat low bun, and she was looking over at you and your new companion from the other side of the pond as though wanting to get your attention. You knew her well already, but you once again wanted to giggle at how your new partner must have been puzzled by her, unaware of the sheer amount of stunts you’d already witnessed from that woman.

“You won’t take me!” Granny Evelyn shouted and turned her back on you, charging as fast as she could (and that wasn’t very a fast walk, mind you) for a tree nearby.

“Is she well?” He asked you.

You chuckled. “Yeah, she does this. The high point of Granny Evelyn’s day is the courtyard, and that’s saying something, as you can probably tell from her charming demeanor. You’ll never meet anyone who has more fun with life than her.”

There was no need to watch over the rest of the elderly walking onto the porch, as any of them who needed help were already being guided by their nurses. You and your companion kept your gaze fixed on a whooping and giggling Granny Evelyn as she took quick, small little steps toward the tree until reaching the trunk, clutching her hands onto it, and lowering herself to the ground where she lay face down on the grass, her little frame illuminated by the rays of sun that escaped through the leaves.

“Can she get up from there on her own?” Your new companion asked, his eyes widening in concern.

“Nope,” you chuckled, unbothered. “Someone better check on her.”

“I’ve got this,” he said, starting his way in Granny Evelyn’s direction.

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” you replied as you picked up on the concern in his deep, luscious voice. “She just needs help getting off the ground.”

You walked after him through the dreamy courtyard and crossed the bridge over the pond—in other circumstances, your curiosity would get the better of you, and you’d make more of a play to spend some time with him in that romantic bridge, maybe finally ask him what his name was, but flirting while Granny Evelyn lay on the grass would raise more than a few red lights in upper command. Eventually, you both reached Granny Evelyn, splattered face down on the grass in a star-like position, and her back suddenly fluttered with a giggle.

“You’ve done this four times this week,” you said to her.

“And every time, I succeed in staying out here longer!” Granny Evelyn teased, her voice muffled in the grass.

“Well, unlucky for you, now I have help,” you tilted your head, and your companion took your words as his cue to get down on his knees to aid Granny Evelyn.

“Ma’am, I’m going to help you up now, if that’s alright,” he said politely, and authority swam in his voice. Granny Evelyn picked up on the unique timbre and rich qualities that floated to her ears, and yours as well, and she jerked her head to the side in his direction to get a glimpse of him.

“Oh?” Granny Evelyn giggled. “Oh, my! Yes, of course you can help me, mister… could you be so kind as to let an old lady know your name?”

He directed a smile at Granny Evelyn, one so discreet and smooth you had to tighten your whole body to keep from sighing dreamily at the sight, or whimpering at how ridiculously gorgeous he was. It was then that you were also able to notice his ears tilted slowly downward, though this was mostly concealed by his uniform hat, and when he gave a slow blink, you picked up on the third eyelid subtly appearing in the movement.

“You may call me Steb,” he said.

“Oh, please help me up, Mr. Steb,” Granny Evelyn’s eyes sparkled at him, and as Steb helped her back up to standing, her gaze shifted between you and him. “Look at you both, so young and bright and loyal to your city.” As she continued glancing at you both, you were able to look away from Steb for long enough to notice the childlike mischief that flashed through her eyes before she fixed her gaze on him again.

“Oh, you are indeed a looker, stunning in your own right!” Granny Evelyn then called you by your name. “Isn’t Steb handsome, dearie?”

You pulled to a halt, and your wide eyes inevitably drifted over to Steb, feeling heat rushing to your cheeks with no signs of stopping or hope of discretion. His ocean blue eyes met yours, and he was also visibly caught off guard by the question, and just as Steb was opening his mouth to speak, possibly to have swiftly dismissed the whole matter and returned things to normal, you just had to open yours.

“Yeah,” the syllable left you quickly, nearly in a whimper, and immediately you felt incapable of meeting his gaze, wishing a chasm would suddenly open in the ground beneath you so that you could use it to be transported far away from there.

“I think so too!” Granny Evelyn’s chirpy cheer diffused some of the tension, and she then turned to Steb. “She’s quite lovely too, is she not?”

Though you were trying not to look at him, you noticed Steb’s calm exterior faltered for a fraction of a second before regaining his composure, and his beautiful eyes were no longer on you.

“I guess,” he answered.

Instantly, you turned your head back in his direction, and against your will, your gaze narrowed at his claim.

“You guess?” Heat rushed to your cheeks again while your brows knit together.

“Woops!” Granny Evelyn said. “Dinner time, folks! I need to be inside!”

With a sigh, you forced your frustrations away and linked your arm in Granny Evelyn’s, leading her across the courtyard and back to the porch while Steb lingered behind the two of you, carefully following your pace in silence. At the top of the porch’s stairs, a nurse waited for Evelyn, and you handed her off with a polite smile, watching as the cheeky granny disappeared into the building. In a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the embarrassment, knowing Steb was still nearby, you pondered on how much of a menace Granny Evelyn must have been as a kid if her old age kept up that amount of spunk.

Now that the elderly were inside preparing for the rest of their evening, you were off duty. You ran out of thoughts and excuses to keep your back turned on him, and as if to emphasize that, you soon heard Steb pacing up the stairs, stopping just a couple of steps below you. You turned around and looked at him, no longer enraged like before, but with your guard up and nowhere near the same amount of dewey-eyed desire you had when you first lay your gaze on him. Steb’s eyes held concern in them, and you knew he was aware of how he made you feel. He then removed his hat, and much to your dismay, he was far more attractive without it.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Would you forgive me?”

You crossed your arms and frowned, angling your body away from him. “I guess,” you spat, quoting him.

A sigh left him, though his lips seemed to curve in the hint of a smile. “I really am sorry. I know you’d rather have heard another response, and… I would rather have said something else.”

Some part of you wanted to admit you’d hoped he’d also, in some way, audibly confirmed he found you attractive. Mundane as it seemed, you felt something like that could make your day. You angled yourself toward him again, your gaze softening as you looked at him—confound how beautiful he looked even when he apologized. Holding his hat at his side, Steb’s gaze softened too, and his round eyes held a tender gleam that somehow made him seem like he was pouting. You thought of how different this look on his face was from the one with which he first walked on the porch, blowing the whistle. At the same time, you noticed his ears slowly tilting up, expecting your answer. But an instinct within you overruled whatever it was you wanted to confess to him, and intrusive thoughts of how everything could become complicated and how embarrassed you felt came pouring in, and you quickly turned around.

“My shift is over,” was the last thing you said, and you ran away from the porch.

You didn’t even want to think of the disappointment Steb felt watching you run away, and you wouldn’t let yourself ponder on how you’d blown it with him in a second. The week that followed that incident wasn’t any easier for you. Steb made attempts to talk to you and make things right, but you wouldn’t budge, and you kept your distance. Naturally quiet as he was, it seemed he wasn’t making much of your situation anymore, and nearly one week after the unfortunate event, you were convinced nothing more of note would happen in regard to the two of you.

One day, you found yourself carrying out your courtyard duty standing alone on the bridge over the pond. Things were as lovely and peaceful in the courtyard as they always were, and you were finally able to focus on the chilly autumn air that you loved so much, as opposed to recent events. Your shift was almost over, and you were looking forward to it being calm and uneventful, but when you heard steps coming onto the bridge—steps that were far too quick and well-placed to belong to an elder—you began to suspect something else was in store.

“Will you really not talk to me again?”

When Steb’s deep, smooth voice filled your senses, you could no longer deny how much you missed him. You turned around and faced him as he cautiously walked up to you at the top of the bridge, stopping a couple paces away from you.

“It’s not like you need much talking anyway,” you replied. “I’ve seen how quiet you are. Besides, you have your whistle.”

He gave a shy chuckle, and you noticed him exhale some tension away.

“It’s a start,” he said, mostly to himself. When you didn’t utter a response, he inched closer to you and tilted his head down slightly to one side, his bright eyes catching yours. “Hey…”

The softness of his voice paired with the beauty of his eyes were a lot for you to handle, and suddenly you didn’t trust yourself to resist him anymore. Your gaze softened at him, looking up at him with a tender gleam of hope not unlike what you felt when you first met him.

“Can I start over?” Steb asked you.

The chilly air began to blow stronger, ruffling the trees around the courtyard. You replied in a soft chuckle and playfully rolled your eyes, gazing out at the courtyard filled with elderly folks enjoying the day.

“We’re supposed to be on duty,” you said.

“Yes, but I’ve seen enough of this place to know the only person we should worry about getting in trouble is sitting up on the porch having a cup of tea,” he said as his eyes looked over at Granny Evelyn, who sat on a rocking chair smiling far away from you both. “I think it’ll be fine.”

With a soft laugh, you tore your gaze from the courtyard and looked at Steb, raised a brow at him, and shook your head smiling.

“I can’t believe you,” your eyes sparkled at him. “Fine, you may start over.”

Steb smiled at you, looking more handsome than you ever thought possible, and slowly he moved closer to you, meeting your gaze with flirtatious eyes.

“Hi,” was all he needed to say for you to know you were done for.

You laughed, bewildered at the power this Vastaya held over you, and at the fact that you had tried to push him away when it was clear that what was happening at that moment was all you’d wanted.

“Hi,” you giggled in return, feeling your cheeks getting hot.

A strong gust of wind powered through your silhouettes, blowing your uniform hat right off your head for it to land on the wooden floor of the bridge. You and Steb both let out small exclamations of surprise, and he bent over to grab your hat for you. When he stood up straight and held it out for you to take, you noticed that the gust of wind had blown a single, dry, golden leaf onto Steb’s shoulder. You looked up at him, loving how he still stood out incredibly in that autumn landscape, and you both smiled softly at each other. Before you took your hat, you reached your hand up to Steb’s shoulder and you gently took the leaf that had landed on him, casting it aside as delicately as it had fallen. But after the leaf was gone, your hand lingered on his shoulder, and tension built between you as you both remained there. Your smile had faded into the nerves that came with being so close to him in such a lovely setting, but it returned to your lips when Steb smiled back at you and his gaze softened in adoration.

You stopped thinking and let your hands guide you through the moment. You pressed your palm onto his shoulder and let it travel to the crook of his neck, and you pulled Steb down closer to you, perking on your toes, and you shyly kissed his lips. You basked in how smooth his skin was under your fingertips and how warm he was, and before you exploded into nerves, you heard your hat dropping onto the bridge floor, feeling both of Steb’s hands cupping your face, gently yet firmly, as he kissed you back. The shyness fled from you, and you kissed Steb more securely when you felt him reciprocate, sliding your arms around his shoulders and pressing your body to him—you didn’t give a Yordle’s mitten if anyone was watching or muttering about you, or if you were on duty. All that mattered was that, as you kissed him, you felt Steb smiling into your lips and his hands traveling down around your waist.

Your mind exploded in fireworks the longer you two kissed, and your thoughts jumped from possibility to possibility; all the firsts you could have with him, all the places you could hold his hand and all the ways you could explore his body and all the markings on his skin, but you knew that would come later, and at the moment you could delight fully in the feeling of him kissing you. Yes, you were absolutely smitten, and you were looking forward to much, much more of that.

From the porch, you and Steb were being watched with a warm smile. Evelyn McCawley had seen a lot in her lifetime, and each experience had taught her to view life with the wonder a child would have. Her eyes could no longer spot a butterfly from afar, but she could see you and Steb finally getting along all too well, and a smile lit her features in hope and subtle heartbreak. Seeing the two of you in uniform sharing a loving moment reminded her of when she was a young nurse charmed by a handsome soldier—she saw her and her beloved in the two of you. And with that same smile, Granny Evelyn pulled a wrinkled picture from the pocket of her purple knit sweater, gazing at the eyes that looked upon her from beyond.

“Young love, eh, Rafe?” She chuckled. “I hope those two have what you and I had, and I sure hope they have the chance to see each other through to the end. I do miss you, dearie.”

Granny Evelyn then put the picture back in the pocket over her heart, and she stood up from her chair, setting her tea on the little table beside it, pondering on what mischief she could possibly do now to bring you and Steb ever closer.

If you like this, please reblog too! Thank you for reading!

Read part II here >

[senascoop]

☁︎ . , TELL YOU WHAT? , S.JY !

PAIRING: fiance ! jake × drunk ! afab reader. SYNOPSIS: getting drunk in hopes to escape your engagement and the sadness that came with it—you turned to a stranger or maybe... your fiance. GENRE: fluff, drabble. WORD COUNT: 541. [LIBRARY]

♫︎ REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED

You had thought sneaking out of your engagement party to get drunk in the garden was a brilliant idea. A freeing, rebellious decision. No one would notice, you had convinced yourself. But as usual, life had other plans—and so did Jake, your brand-new fiancé, who somehow found you curled up on the grass, your pristine dress now speckled with dirt.

“There you are,” he sighed, sitting down beside you with a mix of relief and mild exasperation. “You do realize there’s an entire party looking for you, right?”

You waved him off lazily, blinking up at the night sky. “The stars don’t judge,” you slurred, the alcohol working its magic, “unlike Aunt Minji and her ‘oh, so you’re the bride?’ looks.”

Jake chuckled softly, brushing a speck of grass off your shoulder. “Well, Aunt Minji doesn’t have to marry you. I do.”

You turned to him with a mock glare, your cheeks flushed—not just from the wine. “You don’t have to,” you said, hiccupping slightly. “But if you want to, you should know I have a secret.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning in playfully. “Do tell, my mysterious fiancée.”

You sat up dramatically, nearly toppling over in the process. “I weigh over 45 kilograms!” you announced, as if it were the most shocking revelation in the world. “And—and,” you added, your voice dropping into a whisper, “my chest is still flat!”

Jake froze, caught somewhere between disbelief and laughter. But it was the way your bottom lip wobbled, your eyes welling up with tears of tragic sincerity, that pushed him over the edge. He burst out laughing.

“You’re laughing?!” you cried, your voice a mix of betrayal and drunken indignation. Tears spilled over as you sniffled. “You don’t have it either! How dare you judge me?”

That was it. Jake had to press his hand over his mouth to stop the laughter threatening to spill out, but he couldn’t quite manage it.

“Okay, okay,” he said, scooting closer as you dramatically flopped backward onto the grass, staring up at the sky like a tragic heroine in a period drama. “You’re right. I don’t have it either. We’re even.”

You sniffled again, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your very expensive dress. “We’re both... flat,” you mumbled, your voice quivering. “What a sad couple we make.”

Jake sighed, leaning over you, his tone softening as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “Hey, it’s not sad,” he said, his voice gentle but laced with amusement. “It’s… balanced. And you’re perfect, even if you’re drunk out of your mind right now.”

You squinted up at him, your lips curling into a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”

Jake smirked, offering you his hand. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m saying it because you’re the funniest drunk I’ve ever met. Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up before Aunt Minji sends a search party.”

Reluctantly, you let him pull you up, leaning against him as you stumbled. “Fine,” you muttered. “But only because you admitted you’re flat too.”

Jake laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you. “Deal. Now let’s get back before you decide to share any more of our secrets with the stars.”

© senascoop | tumblr

[insidekatmind]

She is no match with you~ Pope Heyward

Wearning: +18,smut, jealousy, english is not my first language.

It was a hot summer day at John B.’s cabin, and the atmosphere between you and Pope was perfect, as always. You were sitting together on the couch, he with an arm resting on his back, and you huddled next to him, legs stretched out and heart beating happily. The day was quiet, yet there was something in the air, an imperceptible tension that you could not ignore. Cleo, who had decided to spend some time with you, couldn’t stop her sneaking glances at Pope, and even though you tried not to pay too much attention, you couldn’t help but notice him.

Cleo stood outside the living room, by the window, staring at the landscape as if she was lost in her thoughts, but you knew that wasn’t the reason for her attention. You could see in his eyes: there was something more, an unspoken wish, a hope that Pope might notice her in that special way that sometimes seemed reserved for you. But you knew, Pope was yours, and there was nothing Cleo could do to change that reality.

Your gaze met that of Pope, and he smiled softly. He was always so affectionate with you, and you knew there was nothing but love in his eyes. The situation with Cleo was starting to bother you, but you decided it was time to do something about it, to stop that constant gawking and to tell everyone, especially Cleo, that Pope was and would remain yours.

You approached Pope, feeling his steady breath as his gaze followed your every move. You looked into his eyes and, without saying a word, you began to touch his hair, sliding your fingers between the dark locks. A gentle gesture, but full of meaning. Pope closed his eyes, an imperceptible smile painted on his lips as he felt your touch.

"What are you doing?" asked Pope, his voice soft but with a hint of curiosity.

You didn’t answer immediately. You stood up slightly, tilting your head towards him, and without thinking too much you got closer. Your eyes found hers, and at that moment it seemed the world around you was stopping. Without a word, you kissed him. A full, intense kiss that told the passion you had inside for him. There was no fear, there was no uncertainty. Just the certainty that at that moment, you and Pope were together, and no one, not even Cleo, could change that truth.

Pope immediately returned the kiss, his hands finding your life, holding you gently as the passion grew among you. It was a kiss that spoke of love, complicity, and also a certain firmness in making you understand that there was no room for any other between the two of you. You didn’t care about Cleo, or her looks or her attempts to get Pope’s attention. At that moment, the only thing that mattered was him, and you knew he felt the same way.

You finally got off slightly, without stopping looking into his eyes. Pope smiled at you, and you could see in his eyes how much he loved you.

"You’re fantastic," he said, his voice full of affection

You didn’t need words, or statements, because you both knew what you had was special. And while Cleo stood quietly outside the window, probably feeling the tension between you, there was no doubt that Pope would never turn his heart to her.

You got closer to Pope, the hearts beating in unison. There was no more uncertainty, no thought to distract you. You looked into his eyes, and without saying a word, you slowly rose from the couch, hands still touching him gently, as if you wanted to feel every part of him.

Then, with a firm but gentle movement, you mounted him, your eyes fixed on his, looking for confirmations of a love that was no longer afraid to show itself. Pope raised a hand to touch your face, and smiled at you with that smile that made you feel safe, as if nothing could ever separate you.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice still warm from the emotion of the kiss you had shared before.

Without answering words, you approached him again, this time with a deeper, more intense kiss, which seemed to tell you more than any sentence. Your hands were running on his chest, and you felt his breath light up as his hands held your life, guiding you as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Meanwhile, Cleo was still outside, standing by the window, but now she didn’t even seem a presence. You didn’t care about her anymore, how focused she was on Pope, because you knew that at the time, Pope was all for you. The passion between you grew, as if nothing could interrupt that moment that was only yours.

Each kiss seemed stronger, more complete, as if you wanted to tell yourself that no one else could ever enter your world. Your position above him allowed you to feel every vibration of his body, every response to your every movement, and each kiss that became deeper and deeper made you feel your strong bond.

You started rubbing your dick while he groaned in your kisses. Pope put his hands on your butt as he accompanied your movements.

"Baby" Pope whispered and you smiled satisfied as you felt the look of cleo burning your skin.

"Come on love show cleo how much you are in need for me and how much you are only mine" you whispered through the kisses while you still moved your butt on his cock and he groaned.

You just got up and shoved his shorts and boxer shorts and lifted your gumbo to get your thong off and put it in Pope’s mouth.

"Open your mouth my love" you said softly and he opened it and when he felt your underwear in his mouth and felt how wet it was, he groaned as you salivated on his cock.

When you sank both of you moaned and you lowered your head back for his cock in your pussy.

"Pope, your cock is so perfect for my pussy" you moaned as you started bouncing off his cock making him groan.

Pope was moaning loudly from how you were groveling him, but the sound was still maintained by your panties in his mouth.

Pope looked at you like a god while you were bouncing off his dick. You had your eyes half closed and your mouth open as you moaned loudly and bounced.

He put your hands on your butt to slap it and squeeze your buttocks while you were still moving on his cock.

You started kissing Pope’s neck and he closed his eyes because of the pleasure you were giving him.

Cleo was watching the scene angry, cursing you but you didn’t care, you were focused on Pope.

Pope started pushing him even harder by hitting your g-spot and you moaned as he came on his dick.

You moaned and took the thong out of his mouth, casually throwing it on the couch as you joined your lips to Pope’s.

You were both moaning in the kiss as your pussy squeezed his cock more and more.

"You’re fucking squeezing my dick" Pope shouted, head down on the couch.

You smiled as you put your hand on his neck, squeezing a poʻ while he looked at you with pure adoration, lust and love.

"Come on love make Cleo feel good I do feel good" you murmured as you bounced more on her dick and Pope moaned.

"Shit y/n don’t stop, nobody can give me the pleasure you’re giving me, I’m yours... only yours" he said moaning loudly and then spit inside of you.

You groaned and then passionately kissed him Pope held you close to him while he gave you a final pat on the ass.

When you broke off the kiss, you turned your head to see that Cleo had run away. You smiled and put your head on Pope’s shoulder.

"Finally" you mumbled while drawing on Pope’s chest while still having his dick buried in your pussy.

He chuckled softly and gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead by stroking your hair.

"I love you y/n never forget it"

[drewsbraziliangf]

there'll be happiness after you | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: what can you do when you're back in the same place where you had your heart broken for the last time? Is there any way to move past all the hurt and longing?

a/n: ok so I'm sorry for the long wait for this... This will be the last part of this story :'( I want to thank you guys for the love shown in this because this is my first time writing for anything other than House of the Dragon in a loooong time. I hugely suggest listening to "No Goodbyes" by Dua Lipa, "Funeral" by Zara Larsson or "happiness" by Taylor Swift during this read. I hope y'all enjoy it!

dividers: @/saradika

warnings: some cuss words, angst.

The morning after a was never my favorite. Always waking up with a pounding headache and lips as dry as a desert is not the best way to start a day. But there was something about today that made it all worse, for some reason, my brain decided to remember most of the events of the previous night─ touches, kisses, promises, apologies─ everything.

A part of me prayed that I'd forget about it and be able to sneak out without him noticing, but seemed like he was expecting that already and gotten up before I was even awake. The only thing that made it clear that he was indeed at home, was the soft sounds coming from the kitchen.

Okay... I know this apartment like the back of my mind, so since the kitchen door wasn't a direct line for the main door, maybe if I'm quiet enough I'd be able to leave without him noticing, right?

Dwelling on it would only make it worse, so I got up, picked up my clothes from the day before, and quickly got dressed again, this time feeling much more exposed than I did last night. I looked around for my phone, but it wasn't anywhere to be seen. Cursing myself, I remembered that I left it in the living room. Great, a detour.

Thankfully I didn't have to worry too much about how my hair looked as the braids did half the work in keeping it presentable. With a sigh, I walked out of the room with my heels in hand and kept quietly praying to the gods above to grant me this one wish. I just needed my phone and then I'm able to leave.

As I reached the main hall, I could see the bathroom door closed and the lights on. Great, this would be even easier. I quickly walked towards the living room looking for my phone, thankfully it was exactly where I remembered leaving it. It took me no time to grab the device and turn toward the door, only to have one of the biggest jump scares of my life.

"HOLY SHIT!" My left hand instinctively went to my chest as my heart rate increased.

Yeah, there goes my prayers. Drew was leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing a black tank top and a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair was messy and there was still a small air of sleepiness around him. He cleared his throat as he stared at me.

"Yeah, I knew you'd try to do that," he said with a shrug.

"Well, this is exactly what I was trying to avoid," I snap back after I'm calmer.

I could feel my hands getting sweaty and the weight of his gaze upon me was making me feel so uncomfortable. Like there was this white elephant in the room getting bigger by the second.

"Uhm, I kinda have to go-"

"Come on, let's talk over breakfast."

Without giving me a chance to answer he walked back towards the kitchen and I had no choice but to follow him. With a bit of reluctance, I dragged my bare feet after him. The cold tiles on the floor were not even bothering me as they were five minutes ago.

The worst kind of deja vu bathed me as I stood by the counter. The last time I was here was the worst day of my life, so I wasn't feeling great watching him move so effortlessly.

He filled two glasses with black coffee and the toaster with white bread before picking up some jam and cottage cream cheese.

I sat on one of the benches and quietly accepted the plate he handed me once it was all done, he then proceeded to sit by my side and we began to eat in silence, more like me watching him eat as I sipped my coffee.

"So you were just going to sneak out?" He asked casually after a few minutes as he coated his toast with jam.

"What did you expect me to do? I shouldn't even come here in the first place," I bite back and he places his mug down.

"Well, I thought you would at least grant me the chance to talk. We have a lot to talk about."

"No, we don't. We fucked and that's it. It shouldn't have happened and it won't happen again. It can't happen again." I confess, with the instinct of avoiding to meet his eyes.

"What do you mean? We have to talk this through and fix what happened. I know that I fucked up but you just left. As if it all meant nothing to you. We were getting married, for fucks sake." He says, throwing his hands in the air in annoyance.

At that, I stand up and begin walking back toward the living room. I had to leave. This could escalate and both of us leave even more hurt than before.

"I'm not doing this again. I didn't just leave. You pushed me away. You didn't give me a reason to stay. That's what happened."

"I love you! How can you say that?"

"Yeah, you might. But do you like me?" The words leave my mouth before a second to think them over.

He watches me for a second before running a hand over his face. All the traces of sleep were gone from his features now.

"Because I did. And I was so in love with you too," I continue, as my eyes begin to sting. "I was so ready to have the rest of my life by your side. So, how could you do that to me? When did I stop being enough?"

The questions kept flowing out and I couldn't filter my feelings or my words. I just wanted this to end once and for all. My brain couldn't stop reminiscing on last night's events. His touches, his kisses, him.

But being sober now and knowing it all was killing me. How could I be such a fool? After I tried so hard to erase him from my mind...

"No, baby, please listen to me, okay? Just let me talk," he pleaded taking a step closer.

"No, Drew. There is nothing to talk about. I shouldn't have come here and this shouldn't even be happening."

My voice is slightly pitchier than I'd like but I couldn't help it.

"Do you have any idea of how hard it was for me?" I ask looking at his glossy eyes. "I don't get to travel all around the world and the country so I can simply put what happened aside. I had to deal with pitying looks for weeks. I had to walk around the city remembering a life we planned together but wouldn't have anymore. I have to keep on living knowing that that the man I loved didn't choose me when I really fucking needed him to."

At this point, I wasn't trying to keep track of my tears or my words. I just needed that out of my chest so I could be free. I was so tired of carrying these in my heart that even if it hurt, it was freeing.

"So it would be so fucking unfair to me if I just walked back into this," I say as I wipe my face with the back of my hand. "I can't do this to myself again. No matter how much a big part of me still cares about you. I deserve better. I have to choose myself because you clearly didn't."

He didn't say anything at that because there wasn't anything that could be said. Both of us knew that I was right.

Seeing him cry was like picking at an open wound, it made me feel even worse. But, what else could I do? I could feel this eating me up inside and I couldn't look past all the suffering I went through just because he showed up again.

"Loving someone isn't enough to keep a relationship going. You have a lot to do and you didn't, you really didn't. So I'm sorry if I can't just pretend to be okay with everything after a few hours spent together after a few months."

"You think you're the only one suffering in this? I lost you and I had to wake up in our bed every day. I had to be in this apartment knowing that the person who made it a home wasn't going to return. And that no matter what I did or who came by, it was never going to be the same."

His confession made my heart clench but he brought this upon himself. It wasn't me who gave up on it.

"And who's to blame for that?" I say looking into his eyes.

"I know. Don't you think I've blamed myself enough for that?  Because I did, for all the days that you have not been here. This is the first time in seven months when I have felt a sense of normalcy and that's because you're here. Don't you see that?"

Now that the bandaid was ripped once again, the both of us were in tears standing in the middle of the living room. The walls felt like they were getting closer and closer each second that passed.

"Did you know that Frankie came by on the third month? She gave me the TED talk of my life."

That caught your attention, Frankie has never mentioned that. At all.

"She told me that she knew that I wasn't good enough for you from the start, but that she had never expected me to be a shitty partner too. That she had never seen someone disrespect their girlfriend as much as I did without even knowing and that now that I was single the reason for my breakup pushed me aside for someone more interesting. So that not only was I trash for  how I treated you but I was also dumb for not seeing it."

His words come as a shock to you. With shaking hands and deep breaths, you look around the room trying to focus on something that isn't his red face.

"And she's not wrong, you know? And I was also a coward for never coming to you and watching your life on the sidelines."

At this point, I was feeling the huge urge to sob. My hands were sweaty, my tears were not even drying in my face as new ones came down.

"So I'm sorry, okay? I'm so fucking sorry for it. But please, don't say that I didn't care enough about you. Because I did."

His words keep ringing in my ear for a while as I try to place my thoughts correctly. Seven months ago I thought that it would be the last time I would see him and then I'd be able to heal and move on, but now seeing him and hearing everything was bringing a new wave of unaddressed feelings that I have not dealt with yet.

"I can't." A whisper comes out of my lips after a while. "And you have to understand why I can't do this again. I can't ignore everything."

He looks at me with his lips trembling as his tears keep on falling down his face. In the walls of this apartment now the only sound that rang was defeat. This was a lost cause and no matter what happened, both of us would be losing today. 

"I'm sorry, Drew. I really am, but there's nothing that can be done anymore. " I declare as I finally feel like he might let me go. "I hope you find someone who's ready and brave enough to love you through it all, you deserve to be loved and the times that I felt genuinely loved by you were the greatest. That person just won't be me."

Like the first time, months ago, I turned towards the front door and walked out.  Knowing that he would not follow me and that whatever had remained seven months and thirteen days ago, was completely over this time. Even if a huge part of me kept screaming at me to forgive him, I knew I couldn't. Not only it wouldn't be fair to me but I knew what would happen. Of course she wasn't as present in his life anymore, she completely isolated him from any potential significant other he could have. And if we got back together, the cycle would repeat itself and I would never put myself in a situation where I had to fight for someone's attention just to be tossed aside as if I was nothing. 

In this story, there was ever only one winner and it wasn't either Drew or I. 

💖taglist💖: @emmaafinchh @rafecamerons-national-anthem @bvleeeeeee @a-j-stuffs @maybankslover @lovelylove268 @cooper8224 @esquivelbianca @dreamybabbyy @lulubabii @idiotussupremus @drewsphswife @ietss @noneofyabuisnezs @chenslucy @yvbe99 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @theeternaloptimistt @roselibrary @daddydraco0 @iheartcats444 @allopathi

[ask-emily-em-emmy]

*Theres commotion down the hall, something coming… maybe it’s that Ars Goetia that captured her. Had she been loud when breaking free? Well, yes, but she had hoped that she could just sneak away. She couldn’t use her holy powers. No teleporting or transformations, she just had her jar of peanut butter on a stick and a prayer that he had weak knees.*

*The door bursts open, golden light almost blinding her as in steps an angel with four wings, eyes strewn throughout signifying powers beyond that of a winner or an exorcist. Theres horns pushing through her hair and through golden halo as well, lengthened fangs almost pierce her own lips. Emily looks on in wonder, a vision she would be loathe to look away from even as it scrambles her mind.*

*The roaring fire settles back to a manageable form, her beastly knight suddenly subdued as she finds her. Her words are still magnified, the horns have not yet left, but she is less angelic, less infernal, something closer to her normal form.*

*Emily laughs before running to her, weapon long forgotten as she wraps her arms around her lover and buries her head into her shoulder.* “I’m fine now. Let’s just get out of here, I’d like to not be in this form anymore.” *She reaches up and gently follows one of Shamass’s new horns with her finger tips.* “Although, this form of yours is nice. I like the horns.” *She giggles, giddy to be free from that bubble and back in the arms of safety.*

*They make their way back through the castle, following the obvious marks of fury from Shamass’s quest like a road map. As they walked out Emily returned to her more favored form and they headed back to the party.*

~The Dance~

Leviathan stands from their throne. Behind them servants move Leviathan’s throne and the waterfall behind it splits open revealing grand doors wide enough to fit a crowd through.

“Congratulations to the auction winners and thank you to those who donated, Emily the seraphim for the sackbut that you won back so… valiantly, and Asmodeus for your best dancer! Payment will be accepted through the clerk of the court and then the first dance will commence! Please, enjoy the open bar and hors d’oeuvres, they’re special treats sent in from Gluttony and Wrath. May tonight bring you everything you want and nothing you deserve!”

Leviathan spins, his dress twirling behind him as he makes his way through the split falls and enters through doors as they open, as if parting solely for him.

On the other side of the threshold is the ballroom. A simple platform is set with a chair where the first dance will commence, though few notice. Many looking to the ceiling, an ocean in the sky filled with bioluminescence swirling above the crowd.

“Hit it DJ Slime!”

[azizzs-prim]

I feel like Simon would use Riley as a way to lure poor unsuspecting women into his apartment. (+18/TW cnc)

Perhaps even one he had been actively stalking from his workplace - maps and schedules lining his office, detailed with every step she took.

Reminders on his phone for appointments he had managed to find when helping lurking her regain a missing document he had deleted while she went to the restroom.

Even managed to sneak a couple pairs of panties from her dirty laundry when she was naive enough to leave her window unlocked - Even turned one of her frames face down and left the window cracked as he slipped back out into the night.

A small part of him hoped she would become curious about the unsettling amount of missing vestures and cosmetics. Fantasized sometimes about her finding him in her bathroom in the middle of the night - rubbing himself with a pair of her missing underwear.

But he could never defile her like that - expose someone so innocent to something so crude and vile.

So, instead, he arrived at the café she visited every morning to order her tall matcha latté with a rag drenched in chloroform neatly folded in his back pocket just for her and waited... and waited... and waited... until the little bell rung and her form swiftly moved inside.

Late.

That would be fine... it would all be fine. They'd make up for that lost time later.

And just as she grabbed the drink on the counter she had pre-ordered online, he pushed himself up and shoved his burly form into her's.

Her sharp gasp made his heart palpitate and hand snap out to wrap around her waist.

The dazed, confused glint in her eyes slowly morphed into recognition upon seeing him, the corners of her mouth curling into that beautiful smile he saw in his mind every time he pistoned his hips against a folded pillow.

"Si...," she breathed gently in relief, pushing herself back up on wobbly legs as she reached for some napkins. Dabbing gently at the green that stained her new off-white blouse.

This was her. This was his prize. After his suffering for so long, here is the retribution finally given to him.

"Here, doll, lemme help," he kept his voice low and gentle, feigning as much guilt as he could muster, as his massive hands gingerly took the napkins from hers and continued her previous ministrations,"You a'right? 'm sorry about that..."

"Yeah.. yeah, I'm okay, I was supposed to go meet someone, but I guess I'll have to tell them I'm gonna be late."

His movements stuttered at her frustrated admission, a darkness blanketing his eyes as he hummed. It taking every ounce of control within himself not to shove the anesthetic cloth into her nose right then and there.

"Really? How unfortunate," he gritted out, placating a look of guilt and sympathy as his grip turned almost violent around the napkin - knuckles white and hand shaking.

He forced himself to pull away before she really noticed, too lost in her own self-pitying world.

"'ow about this, doll," he began, forcing his voice gentler even as the corner of his mouth twitched beneath his mask, "Come back to my place. I live righ' around the corner. Could get this fixed up for ya in no time."

"Oh-, w-well, I don't-"

He swiftly slid an arm around her back, hand splayed over the satin fabric as his thumb pressed against her lumbar. Coaxing her to turn towards the exit.

"Don' wanna be late, do ya? It'll be fast. Promise."

"Si-, you really don't have to, this isn't necessary-"

"Nonsense," he purred, leading her stumbling, hesitant form towards the door, "I don't bite, doll.

"Could even meet the lil shepherd you've been beggin' to meet."

He watched as her refusal twitched into unsure reluctance. Her steps becoming slightly more intensional and shoulders dropping away from her ears.

"Atta girl."

well, ain't that somethin...

[writingwisterias]

Day 1: Breeding Kink

DI! Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Pregnancy, Body Changes, Masterlist Day 1! Let's go! Hope you enjoy ~ Mads <3

At first, both of you hated the idea of going to your cousin's wedding. The two of you would much rather stay at home than endure the small talk of the family. Your dress clung to the curves of your body in such a perfect way it almost made Leon fall to the floor when he saw you leave the bedroom this morning. The ceremony was beautiful, held in such a magical place he loved seeing you take mental notes throughout the day fiddling with the expensive ring on your finger. The same one everyone had fawned over all night, prying for details about the intimate moment you both shared. You smiled at him from across the room, the small children surrounding you as you took turns dancing with them. He couldn't help but wonder about the future of you two and the way you would act with your children. “She’s a natural they always love their auntie” Your mum spoke from beside him. He was impressed by the woman's ability to sneak up on him despite his year's worth of training, perhaps he was just too smitten with you. “She sure is” He responded. Your mother just chuckled, not failing to notice the expression on Leon’s face as he watched you play with the children. The smile on your face was bright enough to light up the room. 

He watched as you twirled each child around, making sure they all had their moment. He barely heard your mother’s dismissal, her laugh fading to the background as he made his way across the dance floor to you. Your eyes lit up as he presented his hand to you, a dramatic bow followed as the children laughed at his antics. “May I have this dance?” He spoke, his signature grin spread across his face as his eyes flicked up towards you. Your hand was small and gentle in comparison to his.“You may” You chuckled as he whisked you away. His arm encirling around your waist tugging you close to him. Your head rested on his chest as you swayed to the slow music. Both of you fade amongst the crowd of the other couples. 

Leon rested his chin on the top of your head, placing a small kiss against your crown. “I’ve been thinking” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the night. “That’s never good” You retorted, a giggle leaving your lips as he feigned offence. “What if we had one?” He asked. The question was lost to you for a second, the intention behind his words unclear until you turned towards where the children were now running around playing tag together. You had never spoken about this before, always opting for him to approach you with the topic when he was ready. “I wouldn’t object” Your reply was simple, and straight to the point. It left him thinking as he continued to hold you close, allowing him to process the information and take the lead on the subject as a whole. 

As the night continued the more he thought about it. He watched you flutter around the room with your siblings. He found himself imagining what your frame would look like with a swollen belly, which is evidence of his claim on you. His jealousy always ran hot whenever someone would approach you, his deep routed insecurities of never deserving someone as good as you. The ring was evidence that you weren't on the market but never stopped people from trying. There was always an endless supply of men to ward off when you both were out in public. His touches and protectiveness were never enough to show the greedy suitors that you were his and he wasn’t sharing. By the end of the night as you both walked through the corridors of the hotel his cock was already at half mast as he lost himself in the thoughts of impregnating you. 

Leon sat on the bed watching as you slowly began to wind down. His cock throbbed in his restraints as he watched you pull the fabric down your body, your hips shimming as you struggled to get it past. You turned to him in your underwear, a faint blush spreading across your cheeks at his intense stare. “What are you thinking about Leon?” You smiled as you walked over to him now standing between his legs. You could feel his erection through the trousers where it poked at your thigh. Your hands slid underneath the collar of his blazer, taking it off slowly whilst squeezing his biceps. He could see the lust in your eyes - perhaps you were thinking of the same thing? Craving his desires that haven't left his mind since he had started to think about them. “What if we were to try tonight? For a baby I mean” He questioned. You hummed as you pretended to think about it, your answer was clear physically as you began to undo the buttons of his shirt but he needed to hear it verbally. A smile grew on your face you looked down at his eyes maintaining contact as you replied, “Yes, I think that would be great” 

Leon smirked as he stood up from the bed, his form now towering over you. His hands were cold as they caressed your shoulders, moving down to hold your hands. His chapped lips encased your own, pouring love and passion into the kiss as he turned you around. Your knees hit the edge of the bed as you fell backwards onto it, taking his hint and began crawling backwards to the headboard. You watched as he finally shed his clothes, an obvious tent in his boxers as he made his way around the bed towards you. Leon captured lips again in a heated kiss, a small damp spot on his boxers appearing as his cock dribbled out pre cum. “I love you” He murmured into your neck. Your heart swelled with love as he continued his kisses down your body. Sucking soft marks against the curves of your breasts, you arched your back against him, his fingers making quick work on the clasp of your bras as he freed them. “God I can’t wait for these to grow” He chuckled, taking them in his hands and kneading them as he watched your face contort in pleasure. His teeth grazed against the stiffened peaks of your nipples. “What about you love?” he added, stopping his actions as he waited for your reply. “Yes…I want it too…please Leon” You whined your chest arching into your hands desperate for him to continue. Satisfied he continued his journey down towards your pussy, smirking as he saw the outline of your lips from where the fabric began to stick to it. His breath fanned against your clothed pussy cooling your arousal-slicked underwear and making you squirm against the sheets. He pulled his boxers down, smirking as your head popped up to take a look at his length as it sprang free. 

The tip was beading pre cum, the substance wasted as it dribbled down his cock. His fingers slipped underneath your waistband shimmying the underwear down your thighs. He watched as you spread your legs for him, your pussy covered in your own juices just from the ideas he was planting in your head. You felt pressure at your entrance as he lined himself up, his tip slowly entering you as he let out a low groan. Leon felt your velvet walls flutter around his length, it felt like you were moulding for him, eagerly clenching around his shaft as if they were already trying to milk him. “God baby… you're already so prepped for me” He groaned as he looked down at you, meeting your lust-blown eyes. “I’ve been craving this Leon…you spilling so deep inside me” You rambled, your words coming out in small pants as he began to thrust inside you, admiring the white circle that formed at the base of his cock. “I want you to cum inside me and make everyone know who I belong to as my body changes because of what you did to me” 

You felt his cock twitch inside you, his groans now falling into your ear as he pressed himself even further into you. His brain slowly imagines what you would look like as you changed because of what he did. What he was going to do to you. He lifted your leg over his shoulder, the stretch adding an ache that soon washed away to the pleasure at the new angle. His eyes screwed shut as he focused on driving himself into you. The guilt kept trying to creep in at his lack of pleasuring you, focusing only on himself. However, to you seeing him so desperate for this; his mind solely focused on his release inside of you made it so much hotter. With a final groan, he spilled himself inside, his load coating your walls spreading warmth throughout your body. Your orgasm followed shortly after as he continued to bury his seed inside. He wasn’t even pulling out the whole way anymore, just thrusting inside you. He smiled down at you, his grin infectious as he looked at your flushed cheeks. He pulled you in for a kiss, holding you close as he relished in the post-orgasm feeling. Refusing to let his cock slip out of you despite the cum dribbling down his balls from where he remained. You could still feel him twitching inside of you evidence to his brain not leaving the train of thought. “Guess I’m in for a long night?” You chuckled. Leon grinned down at you. “Long night? Baby, I’m not stopping until this takes” 

His fingers caressed your stomach, smiling down at it as his thoughts ran wild.

Taglist: @kasueli @luvrgreyy @michellekmsh @miss0giarra @cinnabunnysavvy @redollface @my-loved-figure-skates @drawboo22 @luvlouiee

[ri-writes-if]

Progress Update — 30/11/24

I've been working on outlining the chapter in more detail, as usual, and I finished the starting scenes and moved onto the routes' personal scenes + subplots. V's is almost done (but I still have several scenes to write after this batch, so I'm not nearing the end of the chapter).

After publishing Chapter 5, I opened my plan for the story and it sobered me so hard lol. I realized I'm several scenes away from the Revelation and the Decision. I had to add new scenes because I want and need you to have more time with the characters, one on one and with all of them together, before the Oracle gets thrown into the stratosphere.

So I was brainstorming for interesting ideas that would help develop the relationship with the route/cast, and I'm enjoying what I came up with. I think you'll love it too if you like hurt/comfort, hehe.

In-between I'm working on the NSFW alphabets (they're finished, but I need to heavily edit them) and the new Laz's snippet, which should be published soon (I also just need to edit it again).

Btw, I'll return to publishing sneak peeks once I begin writing the first draft.

Words aren't wording these couple of days for me for some reason, so I don't have much else to say. Hope you all are doing good!

[xhfics]

Ice skating ~ Lee Jooyeon

Pairing: Jooyeon x reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Notes: mentions of food/beverages. part 1 of my Datecember event⛸️ requested by @joocomics ���

“I thought you said you'd done this before?” Your boyfriend snickers as he holds your hands firmly.

“No.” You reply with a slightly shaky voice, afraid to fall flat on your face. “I said I’ve always wanted to try it.”

The ice skating rank is busy, so it's not too obvious that you're not familiar with ice skating at all. You cling onto Jooyeon’s arms like a baby koala, as he slowly skates with you.

You know he’s not going to let you fall, but you get slightly annoyed at him when he gets a little cheeky and lets go of your hands to take a quick sprint.

“Come on babe, skate towards me.” He says. His cheeks and nose are red from the cold, but his smile is as warm as always. “There's a reward if you complete the challenge!”

“Is it a kiss?” You ask with a chuckle, more so trying to walk over to him rather than skating. “Because I want one.”

“Uh, it's actually hot chocolate.” Jooyeon replies, sneakily skating backwards slowly in the hope you don't find out. “But I can give you a kiss too!”

After a few tries, you manage to slowly but surely skate towards your boyfriend’s open arms.

As soon as he wraps them around you, he plants a kiss on your lips. “See, you can ice skate!”

“Only when I’m being bribed.” You chuckle, letting go of the hug and lacing your fingers with his. With him by your side, you could skate for a little longer.

About an hour later, you’re glad to be sitting down on the wooden bench near the hot chocolate stand; your feet are hurting and your body is cold.

Jooyeon sits next to you and puts two big cups of hot chocolate in front of the two of you. His has a huge mountain of whipped cream on it, with pink marshmallows. Yours does too.

You grab the gingerbread man cookie he hands you and devour it immediately.

“Damn, if I knew you were this hungry I would have gotten you a pizza slice instead.” Jooyeon says, the look in his eyes is playful but adoring.

“Uhm we can still get pizza at home.” You reply, stealing one of Jooyeon’s marshmallows off his drink.

He nods and takes a big sip of the hot cocoa, the whipped cream leaving a full mustache on his upper lip. He pouts his lips at you. “I think you should kiss this off.”

“I think the fuck not.” You laugh, as you grab a napkin to wipe the whipped cream off his mouth.

You lean in slightly closer and give him a quick peck. He doesn't let you back away, as he sneaks one arm around your waist and keeps your lips against his.

[nanamis-bigtie]

kindest lies

"It's… rather urgent." Next to exhaustion there's hesitation in the assistant's words. As if she dreaded sharing the data with you. "There's a huge risk of civilian casualties. We suspect it might be an act of jujutsu terrorism."

Five people get cursed under atypical circumstances. For the tracking and locking properties of your cursed technique you're requested to assist Atsuya during the investigation. Following the curse user's trail, you sink together into the world of izakayas, night clubs and love hotels. And you do everything in your might to not think about last summer's day that has irreversibly changed the terms between you two.

Written for gender neutral reader. No gendered language, no body descriptions, they/them pronouns may appear as pronoun placeholder if necessary in dialogues. Y/N used as a name placeholder.

↬ kusakabe atsuya x gender neutral reader

↬ cw: coworkers to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, canon-typical violence, investigations, hurt/comfort, alcohol, forced proximity, self confidence issues, eventual smut, MINORS DON'T INTERACT

↬ chapter directory: chapter 1 (you're here) | ...more to come

↬ word count: 3,138

↬ a/n: The idea for this fic got born out of secret santa prompts given by @clumsyraccoon. It was supposed to be a simple one-shot but it just kept eating my brain space, until it couldn't be contained within a single chapter - and then waited for the right time (aka when I'll refill strength after a massive burn out & stop being such a chicken). It's been almost a year but it's finally here. Coony, I hope you will forgive me this extremely long wait 😅

Chapter 1

It feels like you've barely closed your eyes when the phone vibrations under your cheek force them open again. 

Darkness around you only adds to the impression; the curtains you always keep shut tight for the night deal even with full noon light, making it impossible to estimate the time right. With a groan, you turn your head to the other side and press it into the pillow, hoping it's just a dream, wrong number or a pushy call center, not an emergency or worse—another mission. Hell, you would take even an earthquake warning, if you wouldn't have to crawl out of your apartment because of it.

Luck is not on your side. Vibrations cease only for a few seconds, just enough for the stubborn person on the other side of the call to choose your number again. Dull buzzing starts anew, bright light from the screen sneaks under your tortured eyelids, and finally jolts you awake. You sit and wipe your face, then squint at the clock and the name of the insistent intruder. You can't match it with a face but there might be only one kind of a person who would scramble for attention this early in the morning.

5 a.m. What sins did you commit to deserve it?

"It better be something important." You screech into the speaker instead of a greeting. When clearing your throat doesn't help, you put the phone on the speaker and reach for the half-empty bottle left on the bed stand.

It's lukewarm and tastes of plastic.

"Y/N? I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" The woman on the other side sounds as miserable and tired as you. She must have been heading home from the night shift or forced out of the bed even earlier than you. The peak cursed season doesn't discriminate, it sucks everyone dry, from the bottom to the top of the sorcery ladder and is probably the closest to the fair share you can experience in this damned profession. Everyone is perpetually exhausted and looking forward to September when the tension will mellow down to the usual levels.

Thinking back, you feel a little sorry that you couldn't bring yourself to be at least a little nicer to her. But you bet the woman doesn't resent you for being grumpy. She definitely heard worse than your exasperated lack of manners.

She introduces herself and gives you her identification number and the code confirming she indeed is an assigned assistant. She's specific to a fault and you're grateful for that. You're not sure if the scrambled remains of your brain would be able to pick the crucial information if she beat around the bush.

"Sorry, I think I'm out of commission for now," you say quickly right after fulfilling your part of the greet-and-identify ritual. You don't want to take this job but at this point you won't fall back asleep, so you sit down and firmly place your feet on the cold floor to chase the drowsy feeling away. You need a shower and fresh clothes; it was a little before 1 a.m. when you crawled into your apartment, stripped to your underwear and fell face down into the bed. Hell, you could use some breakfast too...if there was anything left in the fridge. You can't remember the last time you ran groceries.

"It's a personal request." The assistant cuts in before you can continue with your excuses. Her voice is as apologetic as determined to deliver her part of the job—or at least to fight hard enough for the higher ups to not hold her responsible for your refusal. You can't blame her, really.

"An assistance?" You take a wild guess. 

Peak season meant also peak mortality, leaving the "lucky" survivors with huge gaps to fill regardless of their specialization, which leads to many frantic reshuffles when the situation turns out to be too risky for a blind escapade. This demand touches especially the sorcerers whose skills can cover a wide range of crises, like you. Hard tasks are almost always assigned to heavy hitters—and heavy hitters look for support on their own account. For help with barriers and rituals, for cursed technique boosters, and for all the technical details that don't look as impressive in the CV as The Big Strong Cursed Techniques do, but often require even more skill to be performed safely.

Unless you are Gojo Satoru, sooner or later you will run into a mission where you need a helping hand to be able to use your own cursed technique.

And unless you have one of those Big Strong Cursed Techniques, you will play the helping hand role more often than doing your job solo.

The math is easy and, at least in your opinion, weirdly fair when it comes to covering the pay gap. Being a second grade, you would need to cover thrice as many solo missions to climb to the same financial level as those from the top. Depending on the person calling for assistance, support can be paid almost the same as an average solo for your grade—or even more, if it's the first grade who tend to overuse their privilege of getting round the path through the officials. There's also more regular contact with those on the top—who can whisper a word where it's needed, spiraling your chances for a promotion.

If only it wasn't so fucking exhausting once the peak season hits...

"Look, I would love to—" Your strategy is to not let the assistant pull you into discussion. They have their tricks to manipulate reluctant sorcerers into taking new missions. And you hate to admit some of them work on you every single time. "—but I've just come back. I have twelve hours of rest protection secured in my contract. Ask someone else, it's Tokyo, there's definitely someone—"

"I've checked." Now it's her turn to butt in your word. "I know you're under protection, I looked through the agendas of every sorcerer active from here to Miyagi, and everyone is already assigned. I did what I could, Y/N. There's literally no one else to replace you."

"Postpone it?"

The situation is dire. If an assistant—who's usually on the sorcerers' side in this everlasting game of tug of war between them and the higher ups—says nothing can be done, it really means it. At this point you know you're taking it, but negotiations won't hurt. It's not your first rodeo, you know with high demand comes incline towards meeting halfway and bandying bonuses around.

"It's… rather urgent." Next to exhaustion there's hesitation in the assistant's words. As if she dreaded sharing the data with you. "There's a huge risk of civilian casualties. We suspect it might be an act of jujutsu terrorism."

You don't answer immediately, weighing words and options. The deeper you dig, the thicker this cesspool becomes. But before you find a way to fend off this stick, there goes the ultimate carrot, "It's paid extra, too."

"How much?"

You swallow that bait as if she coated it with your favorite dessert—and you curse yourself in thoughts for letting that question slip. You don't think of yourself as a greedy person, but hardly anyone does this job out of a kind heart.

"We haven't got official approval yet but given the circumstances and the request itself? That's gonna be the standard rate, not support."

"So, you're sending me somewhere in Miyagi?" You sigh into the silence on the other side of the speaker. The assistant said everything she had to say and is just waiting for the inevitable, her determined chirping replaced now by the hum of the car and subdued music on her radio. You can't recognize the band playing but you can tell it's one of the older western ones.

"Okay. Who's calling?" You give up when the quiet gets awkward. There's still some water left in the bottle; you swirl it a few times before bringing it to your parched lips.

"Kusakabe."

Your hand trembles, some water spills down your chin and neck. You haven't choked but your sore throat still answers with coughing. Fighting against the spasms, you even forget the shock that caused everything, at least until the concerned assistant snaps you back, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah." Nothing is alright, it's just gotten significantly worse, but you'd be rather cursed than return to negotiations—even if you've just become even more reluctant to take this mission. "I just took a weird sip."

"I'll be at your place in about thirty minutes, will you make it?"

Trying to stuff the panic at the very back of your exhausted brain, you do a quick run through the mental map of your current state. You should find some fresh clothes. Coffee? No time for it but there should be an emergency bottle of green tea somewhere. Breakfast? No chance, even if you by miracle saved something in the fridge. Shower? Yes, this one is possible.

"Yeah, if you grab me a sandwich and something warm and caffeinated."

"On it."

You want to scream.

First few minutes of your precious time you spend lying flat across the bed and staring at the ceiling. You're nothing but a pile of refusal and exhaustion far different than physical. Why him, of all possible options? Why not Nanami and his dry demeanor, professional to a fault and ready to throw hands for the sake of even pay? Why not Usami who wouldn't exchange a needless word and let you work in peace? Hell, you would take even Mei and the risk of being abandoned with the slightest inconvenience over...that.

How are you supposed to work in those conditions? How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after what happened between you two?

The solitary life of a sorcerer has, despite everything, its perks—comfort of avoiding people you don't want to see the biggest of them. Unless you get called on the carpet or are forced to partake in a group mission, you rarely see anyone other than randomly assigned assistants and windows. Meetings outside the work are easy to avoid and since that day, you've become a master of excuses. You worked hard for the distance between you two, almost a year now since you've exchanged more words than sparse greetings while passing by. Not even once your eyes met, his flying far above your head, as if you were made of thin air, yours stubbornly boring into the floor as you quickened your pace and hid behind the first corner possible, before anyone would see, before either of you two would get a very bad idea.

At the beginning, he tried. He tried but you were faster than his incoherent attempts of starting conversation. He once even caught your wrist and pulled you as you started walking away—but released you as soon as your eyes met for the last time.

You would love to claim that you forgot, both that day and the look in his eyes before he turned on his heel and retreated. Up to now], if you closed your eyes, you could recall the feel of the anguished clench of his hand.

You peel eyes off the ceiling and look at your wrist, half-expecting bruises shaped like his fingers, but your skin is as clean as ever. Just in a desperate need of a shower.

Twenty-five minutes to go.

Hope dies last. You peek into your box with coffee pods (empty), into the fridge (empty bar a moldy tomato), into the cupboard (empty, no emergency tea left). You gather dirty clothes you find on the way to the bathroom and stuff them into the laundry basket (overloaded). You don't have time to wait for the right temperature, so you jump into the shower (dirty) right as it is. It's more energizing than you thought but you must get out right as it warms up to the right level and your mood immediately drops back.

Soapy stains on the mirror diffuse your reflection: parched lips, pale unhealthy-looking skin, red eyes and gigantic shadows under them. If you survive both Kusakabe Atsuya and whatever cursed crap he's called you for, you're going to call the contract cleaners and spend the forced day out in a hotel with a spa. Maybe a set of good sushi, too. Or a night out with friends, to drink and forget whatever awaits you—and something tells you it's going to be one hell of a pile to wash down.

"It better be a really good pay", you mutter to yourself with half a heart.

You hate this day, you hate this job, you hate yourself for how mushy you feel right under the layer of exhaustion and panic.

The only clean clothes you have left are worn-out jeans and a nerdy t-shirt you use for your no pants days. You're going to regret this when the summer reaches its peak later that day, but so far, it's still somewhat crisply outside. Perfect time for coffee...if you had it, that's it, you recall not without an irritated huff as you lean against the lantern in front of your apartment complex. The streets are empty and silent, life around is barely starting and stretching its limbs. In moments like this you almost like Tokyo.

The assistant surely takes her time and by the time she finally finds you, sleepiness has already crawled back on you. In your current state you stand out like a sore thumb next to that damned elegant car all assistants are driving, at least until you collapse on the backseat and realize the inside is no better than your apartment. Under other circumstances you wouldn't be thrilled to drive all the way to another prefecture next to empty McDonald's bags, with empty energy drink cans between your feet, but at this point you just don't care. You're going to pass out soon anyway.

"Yeah, a total state," the assistant hands you an iPad before your drink and sandwich. You're not sure if she meant her car or whatever awaits you in the case files.

Screen brightness is set to maximum; you squint your eyes, suddenly painfully aware that sand under your eyelids is rather a glass wool at this point. It's impossible to read like this but you grin and bear it, with, hopefully, an expression not as miserable as you feel. At least you can tell that the notes were taken in a hurry, they lack the typical formatting and order, making the job much harder for you, of course, but you feel less shitty for giving up and relying on the assistant and her explanations.

Coffee is black, strong, and with an ungodly amount of sugar. Oh, she knew what kind of boost your brain would need.

You're waiting for the perfect moment to attack with questions when a call comes, almost shaking the car with the volume alone. Assistant flounders in an apology and hands you a tissue but you don't bother to wipe those few droplets of coffee off your pants when that name peeks at you straight from the car's touchscreen. A solid 3/10 you were giving this morning so far has dropped far below zero, together with your heart, rolling now somewhere between Monster Energy cans.

"Nakagawa, is Y/N with you already?" Atsuya's voice is all around you, tacky, drowsy, with that characteristic hoarseness of a pulled all-nighter. You wish you hadn't known him enough to imagine how he looks now so easily. Maybe your body wouldn't react in such a... pathetic way. 

Wagging your tail like this just at the sound of him so close? Do you have no shame?

"I'm here." For once you're glad you're so tired. Tension in your voice can easily pass as dryness of the throat—and you add to it with a hearty cough. "Morning."

"Oh. Hi." There's a change in how he sounds. A slight but still is. Oh, how you hate yourself for being able to pick it up. "Good morning."

There's a click of an opened can, a few deep sips, and a long, relieved exhale—that has little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You hear gravel under his feet, an eerie feeling of being approached; you tense shoulders and let a peek to the side slip, as if he really, physically came to you, about to casually tap your back, that infuriatingly casual habit of his.

Before you even liked how straightforward he is. After just a thought of being touched fills you with a maelstrom of conflicted feelings. You haven't even gotten rid of his fingers off your wrist yet. You wouldn't wipe that comforting—impertinent—tap off for ages.

"You can scratch the risk of civilian casualties out." Atsuya's steps finally still, he either sits down or leans against something with a little groan to it. "One guy just tapped out."

You hide an awkward grunt behind another sip of coffee. People get cursed and die every day, in a job like this you're getting used to it fast—or you tap out yourself. It doesn't get any easier to hear about it, though, even if it's better to pretend otherwise.

"A corpse in a resume even before I seriously started. Fucking crap. I wanna go home." Atsuya doesn't care and it's something you still envy him. To shake it off just like that, to treat human life like another paperwork to deal with instead of spending the night in an izakaya or in front of tv. "This is going to get ugly really fast. That woman from number two... When did it happen? Eh, whatever, Nakagawa will give you the details. But I don't think she'll make it, we found her pretty late, too."

There are five names on the list; the signs are blurred for your tired eyes, but you can tell as much. You highlight the first line and mark it red.

Four cursed ones remain.

"Grab some sleep, if you can." Atsuya's voice grows softer, bringing out that mushy, soft feeling that's been lurking at the edges of your mind. "I'm gonna catch up, too. I'm counting on you."

He leaves the car in silence, thick like tar and having your muscles painfully tense. You need a deeper breath but you're afraid you're going to betray all your thoughts and emotions, so you run on short, barely audible ones.

"Kojima Eitaro, forty-six, salaryman." Nakagawa tries to pull your attention towards the case, but she could as well just speak to the wall. "Found unconscious by the door of his apartment on Thursday, August 3rd, around seven in the morning. The source of the curse: unknown."

ao3 version // jjk masterlist // kofi // dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[dreamwatch]

Part 1 Part 3 AO3

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Black Friday pop-up event.

Prompts: Black, Friday, "I'm not standing in line for that", Leftovers, Trampled, One Day Only, "I am giving thanks."

Yeah... all of them, and you're right, it was a stupid idea.

Word Count: Pt2 - 3670 | Rating: M | CW: Past suicidal ideation (very subtle, blink and you'll miss, I'm just being cautious) | POV: Mixed - Pt1 Eddie, Pt2 Steve, Pt3 Eddie | Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Tags: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Gareth CC, Jeff CC, Matt CC, Wayne Munson, disabled Eddie Munson, pining, protective Gareth, protective Steve, kissing, guitars, reference to canon typical injuries, references to blood and injury- please let me know if you think I've missed any.

I'm posting in 3 parts, because this is nearly 12k in total, which is a lot. Mods - hope that's ok! I'll link them all together. :)

Part 2

Steve’s learned a lot about himself this past year.

He’s a good friend, for one, an excellent wing man, even if Robin continues to do her best to get in her own way. 

He’s painfully patient with Dustin and the rest of the little assholes that have literally haunted his every waking moment for the last three years. He loves them, and they know it and they abuse that love on a near daily basis. Sadly, he wouldn’t change them for the world.

He doesn’t love Nancy anymore. He doesn’t want to think on that too much.

He’s done with dating. He’s done with the peacocking that comes with it, the effort of it when the person you’re with is just… okay. Nice enough. Inoffensive. He’s at that point in his life where he just needs something real, someone real, someone full of life, who makes him laugh, who wants to share everything with him. He’s done with quick fucks, the empty feeling of grabbing your clothes and sneaking out of bedrooms, of trying to get your pants on in the back of the bimmer. He wants love, and he’s not afraid to go after it now.

Oh, yeah, and he likes guys.

That’s probably not that much of a revelation, to him at least, Robin had been more intense about it.

“Now you tell me? Not when I was covered in piss and puke on the floor of a public bathroom, Steve, when I was sharing my deepest secrets with you, you tell me now, months later, you’ve had literally months, and it’s at this point in time, randomly while I am trying to re-shelve a weekend’s worth of returns, that you choose to drop this bombshell, this life changing moment, that you’ve been carrying around with you for, how long?”

“A few months.”

“A few months. A few months, he says like it’s no big deal. What is wrong with you?”

What was wrong with him was Eddie Munson. He’s still kind of getting his head around it all to be honest.

The guy thing was there for years, a low level thrum of attraction, of slightly too long looks, of grab-assing and horseplay in locker rooms and showers. Easy to pass off as nothing because they were all doing it, to one degree or another. Some, like Tommy Hagan, were less than subtle about it. 

But the Eddie thing hit him like a bolt of lightning. Never saw it coming. One minute he’s a suspected murderer holding a broken bottle against Steve’s throat and the next Steve’s holding his hand while he’s cuffed to a hospital bed scared out of his mind. 

There’s something to be said for seeing someone at their worst, there’s a pride from watching them climb back and knowing you had a part in that, being able to pat yourself on the back for it. But this isn’t the shared trauma that Robin talks of. This is pretty brown eyes and long lashes, this is dimples you want to sink your fingers into. This is hair you want to touch and hands you want to hold, and lips you want to kiss. 

He’s spent so much time with Eddie over the last seven or eight months, and it’s snowballed; as the months roll on, the number of days they spend together has increased. At first it was to be helpful, for as much as the pair of them loved each other there was no way Eddie would feel comfortable with Dustin taking him to and from the bathroom to take a piss, or to hold his hair back when he puked, or to help him get dressed, or a multitude of other easy things that just became hard for him over night. 

Steve could do those things for him. He wanted to do those things for him.

Eddie has other friends, sure, but Steve was there. He still has nights where all he can see imprinted on the back of his eyelids is Eddie’s corpse, can smell the penny scent of blood. His fingers twitch when he remembers how Eddie’s skin felt slippery, the sudden release of his chest as a rib breaks. 

Those are things Eddie’s friends can’t know, and Steve is happy for them. He truly wishes he didn’t know, either.

They know things Steve doesn’t, however, and he needs their help.

Say what you want about Steve, but when he wants something he goes all out.

So dinner didn’t go well, but there’s not much he can do about that now. But just being there and seeing Eddie’s obvious pleasure at the effort at least did something to lift his spirits. And they had a nice evening, watching TV and talking late into the night until Eddie started to fall asleep on the couch and Steve took that as his cue to say goodnight, as much as he wanted to stay.

He nearly fucked up when he asked if Eddie wanted to hang with him and Robin for the day. He was like, ninety seven per cent sure Eddie would say no, the guy barely leaves the house these days, but just for a second he looked as if he was going to say yes. And that would have put a real crimp on Steve’s plans, because they had nothing to do with ferrying Robin around on a joy ride, and everything to do with Eddie.

He wakes early the day after Thanksgiving, despite the late night, which is not unusual for him; he still runs most days, he enjoys the feel of it, running through choice rather than because he’s trying to stay alive. It’s a decision he gets to make for himself, something he can own, and there hasn’t been an awful lot of that over the last few years.

But today he has a mission, and it starts with Dustin.

When he rolls up to the Henderson house it’s barely eight A.M., and there’s a good chance Dustin will still be in bed. So he does what the little shit heads would do. He bangs on Dustin’s bedroom window.

He peers through just in time to see a bundle of blankets tumble to the floor, Dustin smack in the middle of them. Dustin squints back at him before opening the window.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, what the fuck?”

“Your language is shocking, you know that? Is that Eddie? I need to keep you two apart, seriously.”

“I think my language it perfectly reasonable given it’s a holiday and it’s—“ he glances at his watch, “eight! Jesus—“

“—Christ, yeah, yeah I got it. I need help. Where does Gareth live?”

Dustin frowns at him, bleary eyed.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Uh, how about none of your business?” 

“Uh, okay, how about I’m going back to bed now?”

Dustin moves to close the window, Steve reaching to stop him.

“Alright, alright. Jesus,” and for a second Steve thinks he might know where that language is actually coming from. “I’m running an errand for Eddie.”

“What kind of errand?”

This fucking kid.

“The private kind.”

“Why didn’t Eddie give you his address then?”

So, Steve’s tenacious, but maybe he doesn’t always think things through completely.

“Look, I’m trying to do something nice for Eddie, okay? The surprise type of nice, and no offence, but you’re just not that great at keeping your mouth shut.”

Dustin nearly chokes on his indignation. Steve just raises an eyebrow in challenge. The kid hasn’t got a leg to stand on, and he knows it.

“Fine!” Dustin huffs, then wanders into his room to find a pen and some paper. He’s back a second later, thrusting the yellow note paper at Steve.

“Thank you. Now was that so hard?”

Dustin flips him the bird in response.

“Okay, go back to bed you little shit. Call you tomorrow.”

“Make sure you do.”

And with that the window slams shut and Steve can’t help the fond smile as the curtains close.

As it turns out, Gareth doesn’t live all that far from the Hendersons. There’s something off about turning up outside someone’s house that early in the morning when you don’t really know them, and he can’t imagine Gareth is going to appreciate a knock on the door from him at anytime of the day honestly, so he sits in his car a few spots further up the street. He should have got a coffee and a donut, go the full Chief Hopper route.

Steve waits patiently for a little action inside the house, trying to gauge if people are up, had their breakfast, that kind of thing, when there’s a rumble from the opposite end of the street. He checks his rear view mirror and watches as a blue AMC Pacer struggles to climb the hill. He knows that car from the the Hawkins High parking lot, though it usually has music blaring from it. This morning it seems to be respectfully peaceful. He doesn’t get a chance to ponder it much further. It parks up outside Gareth’s place and Jeff climbs out, Matt pouring out behind him. 

Steve waits patiently for them to go in the house, door opened by a bleary eyed Gareth with a nest for hair and blue check boxers fully on display. It takes twenty minutes for them to leave, this time everyone looking a little more awake. He pulls his keys from the ignition and opens the door.

“Hey.”

The three of them turn to face him all at once, glaring at him once they recognise him.

“Can we help you?” asks Gareth with a sneer. 

Steve’s well aware these guys don’t like him, though he has no fucking clue why other than ‘you jock, me nerd’ which is total bullshit. He’s had a lot to work through this last few years, and part of that has been to stop apologising for who he was. Because firstly, he wasn’t that bad. A low key douche, but he wasn’t mean with it (Jonathan Byers being the exception, and he has apologised profusely). So you know, fuck these guys, honestly. 

However, he also kind of needs them today.

“Uh, Henderson mentioned you were headed into Indy today? Shopping?”

“What’s it to you?” asks Matt.

“I need a favour. I have a— cousin? My cousin, yeah, so he’s staying with me at the moment and the guy’s had a tough year and I want to like, get him something nice, but I have no idea what.”

Jeff shakes his head. “We’re not personal shoppers, dude, how the fuck—”

“He’s one of you. He’s like a—” Steve gestures broadly at them, “Like, a metalhead, you know. And he plays guitar.”

“Oh my God,” laughs Matt, “There’s a cool Harrington? This is I have to see.”

And he and Jeff yuck it up, but Gareth isn’t. Gareth is looking at him, really looking and Steve thinks this was a fucking mistake. He feels a little naked out on this street, his insides on the outsides for this one person to scrutinise. 

“Yeah, okay,” says Gareth, eventually. “So what do you want from us?”

He pulls a crumpled up page from the back pocket of his jeans. “This guitar store is having a sale, one day only. Store opens at ten, but like, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Matt grabs the paper from him. “Holy shit, you want to buy him a guitar? Can I be your cousin?”

“He— uh, lost his. And like, it was a big deal to him, you know? I can’t stretch to much, but I thought, maybe with the sale…” He shrugs.

While Jeff and Matt look at the ad, Gareth doesn’t take his eyes off him.

“Why didn’t you ask Eddie?”

It makes the other two pause and makes a little piece of Steve’s stomach drop.

“I was going to but, uh, he mentioned he was staying home. And you know, you guys know just as much about this shit as he does.”

He’s not above a bit of flattery to get what he wants.

“I need new strings, actually,” says Matt, staring at the crumpled paper.

“Shit, theres like fifty per cent off some of this stuff,” Jeff says, snatching the ad. “Time to get a new pedal.”

Gareth continues to try and bore holes through him with his eyes, so he decides to up the ante, offers to drive so they don’t all have to pile into Matt’s piece of shit Pacer, and he’ll buy them lunch, and sure, he’ll take them wherever they want to go in the city, and he’s starting to regret this, until Gareth says the magic word:

“Sure.”

It’s laced with suspicion and confusion, but fuck it, Steve will take it. He only needs them for a few hours.

The drive is uneventful. Jeff and Matt share college stories, telling Gareth about the parties they’re going to, the clubs they’ve joined, and in Matt’s case the pussy he’s getting. Steve nearly chokes on a Twizzler.

“Dude? ‘Pussy’? Really?”

“What? Since when have you been so puritanical? I can’t help it if the ladies flock to me.”

 He’s desperately trying to not upset this particular apple cart, but Jesus they don’t make it easy.

Matt reaches through the back seats, looking to change radio stations, until Gareth slaps his hand and tells him to sit the fuck down.

“What about you, Harrington?” asks Matt.

Steve shoots him a look in the rearview mirror. “What about me?”

“Got any college plans?”

They have to know he doesn’t, and his skin itches with annoyance. He’s trying to be really nice for lot’s of reasons; right now because he needs them, but also their Eddie’s friends, Dustin and Mike and Lucas’s friends as well come to think of it. Jeff and Matt might not be around, but Gareth very much is. They weren’t around much to begin with, and Steve didn’t ask about that, not really his place and he kind of had bigger problems at the time, what with two friends in the hospital, El in hiding from the army and half the town crumbled to ash. But things seem to be better between them all now; Eddie has letters from them in a sweet little box he made on his desk, and a pennant from Loyola on his wall. Gareth comes over a couple of times a week to hang out with him. So it’s all on the up. But they still piss Steve off, and he’s entitled to that.

“Nope, just living the dream at Family Video.”

It’s a conversation killer, and he’s just pissed off enough not to care. Instead he cranks up the radio, Peter Cetera crooning The Glory of Love blasts from the speakers, though not loud enough to cover the groaning and Matt pretending to be sick.

They make it to Indy just before ten A.M. The store is much bigger than he expected. It also has a queue snaking down the block.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Gareth smirks at him. “It’s a black Friday sale, man. Fifty percent off this stuff is no joke. You thought you could just wander in like it’s a fricking Kroger? Jesus.”

“I want my pedal,” says Jeff as he wanders to the back of the queue.

Matt shakes his head. “Well, I’m not waiting in line for that.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to cross the street. “I’m going to Tower. I’ll meet you back at the King-mobile in an hour. Enjoy getting trampled!”

“King-mobile?” Steve mutters under his breath. “Asshole can walk home.”

He spends an awkward thirty minutes in line, listening to Jeff and Gareth arguing about music and games and a load of other shit Steve doesn’t know anything about, before Jeff tries to include him in the conversation, seemingly to Gareth’s annoyance. Eventually they’re in, and goddamn there are a lot of guitars; floor to ceiling, brand after brand, every colour and finish you can imagine. It’s oddly exciting, despite the fact he can’t play and has no idea what any of this stuff is. He gets a flash of the odd price ticket and his heart sinks. He’s not short of money, sure, but some of these would make an impressive hole in his savings account.

Jeff and Gareth desert him almost immediately, off playing with the toys, so Steve wanders through the store on his own, knocking shoulders occasionally with actual musicians trying out guitars. There’s a hum of activity, snippets of solos and songs he mostly doesn’t recognise filling the space around them. He’s out of his depth, but all the assistants are busy, and he hasn’t got a clue what he’s asking for anyway. So he does laps around the store looking at each guitar trying to size it up.

He stops when he gets to a rainbow wall of B.C. Rich guitars. He knows which one is Eddie’s, a red and black Warlock that was lost to the netherworld when Eddie’s trailer fell into the the void. They don’t have the same one, and his heart sinks a little until he spots a glossy black version He reaches out tentatively.

“Not that one.”

Steve spins, and comes face to face with Gareth. 

“What?”

Gareth looks conflicted, looks around as if he thinks he’s going to be overheard. The hustle and bustle of shoppers continues, the solos and music continue to cycle from song to song. 

“Not the Warlock.”

Steve finds himself mirroring Gareth, eyes fluttering around the store, falling on Jeff as he tries out a pedal.

“I don’t—”

“I don’t know what he went through back in March, but I know it was bad enough for him to sell his guitar. So—”

“Wait,” Steve starts, raising his hand. “He sold it? I thought he lost it in the earthquake?”

Gareth shakes his head. “I was with him, dude. He was so desperate to offload it he let it go for a hundred bucks. So if you’re looking to get him a new one, which I think is a bad idea by the way, then maybe don’t replace the one he just got rid of with the exact same model. I’m guessing there was a reason he didn’t want it anymore.”

“Why are we talking about Eddie? I told you, this is for my—”

“—you’re cousin, right. Well, my advice is don’t buy your cousin a Warlock. He won’t thank you for it.”

And with that he slinks off into the store, joining up with Jeff as he tests out a pedal, leaving Steve standing in front of a wall of guitars with no fucking clue what he’s doing, and feeling horribly seen in a way he doesn’t have the fortitude to unravel in the middle of a guitar store in Indianapolis. 

He goes back to the car, radio playing Duran Duran while he can enjoy it before the three ungrateful shit heads pile in and abuse his good will by mocking literally everything about him. Eddie getting rid of the guitar makes no sense to him, but the more he thinks the more it dawns on him that he’s never heard Eddie play. Like, not ever. Even without the BC Rich there are two other guitars in his room, and Steve has spent a lot of time with Eddie over the last few months, and he’s never touched them once that he knows of. It doesn’t make any sense.

Except… his left hand shakes. A lot. And he rarely uses a knife, just uses a fork in his right hand, which Steve only notices because he notices everything about Eddie. Or he thought he had. He missed the biggest part of him. Eddie lost his music and Steve didn’t even notice. 

Jeff and Gareth are back at the car on time, Matt only twenty minutes late, a record according to Jeff. True to his word Steve takes them to lunch, a diner called Sandy’s they all seem overly excited about. They’re talking among themselves and he finds himself content to listen as they talk about things they got up to with Eddie. Hearing about his escapades from before, back when Eddie was still just the school freak and high school super super senior, makes his chest ache. He wants to know that Eddie, wishes he’d had a chance to meet him and hang out before all the Upside Down crap stole their youth from them. But it hits him all at once that he could have had that, if his head hadn’t been stuck so far up Tommy Hagan’s ass. 

He bites into his hot dog and keeps it to himself.

It’s late afternoon when they get back to Hawkins, and he drops everyone back at Gareth’s where they started this monumental waste of a day. Jeff and Matt thank him as they get out of the car, but Gareth hesitates before putting his hand on the door handle. 

“Blue,” Gareth says, like he doesn’t want to, like Steve grabbed him by the throat and threatened him for it. “He likes blue. He doesn’t tell anyone, says it’s not metal.”

“Uh, okay…” 

“And he gets the chilli dog, with extra onions at Sandy’s. With the cheese fries. And a large peanut butter malt. That’s his order.”

And like, what the fuck? Steve’s head spins with it, with the fact that Gareth knows something, he has seen something in Steve, and just how far does that go? How transparent is he that this kid who he barely knows has managed to just lift the lid on him and take out all his hidden parts? 

“People haven’t been good to him. He likes you for some reason, so just, don’t fuck him up. That’s all I’m asking, man.”

And with that he gets out of the car, leaving Steve in a whirlwind of panic, and with problems still unsolved.

He needs to talk to Wayne.

[daydreamer-in-training]

✨OP Advent Calendar 2024 Masterlist✨

Door 1 - What Corazon would gift you for Christmas

Donquixote Rosinante x Reader

Word Count: 1.000+

Themes: You are on the run with Corazon and Law; fluff; comfort; its Christmas but Corazon forgot; size difference, confession of love (sorta); no use of Y/N

Notes: Oh wow happy first day of December everyone and happy first Advent as well! 🎀🕯️Please enjoy the first entry in my OP Advent Calendar! I wanted to pair this with Doffy, but it got longer then i anticipated and I think it deserves to stand alone. Corazon! I love that Man so much, its my first time writing for him, i hope i did him justice. 🙏🏻

I'd Love to hear the Christmas traditions from the places you come from! ✨ Have a wonderful day everyone!

Please note that englisch is not my first language!

Advent Calendar Taglist:

@jintaka-hane @armiliadawn @stuckinmymind22 @chibinasuu

The snow slowly fell onto his big feather coat and enveloped everything around you into a quiet canopy of white.

Corazon was enjoying this little moment of peace with you. Law was asleep already. He had been rejected by two doctors today, and Cora sensed this was slowly getting to that poor kid. After he was tucked into a warm sleeping bag and an extra blanket for extra warmth, Law fell asleep immediately.

You and Corazon - or Rosinante as you‘ve come to have known after he told you the truth a few weeks ago - had the first moment to yourself since he took you and little Law away from his brother's clutches. You leaned against his big shoulders, covered from the cold by the large black coat you two shared. Bathing in each other's quiet presence brought you two much-needed calmness in this dire situation.

As he wanted to snake his arm around your waist, you stood up, earning a confused look from the marine. You smiled gently as you leaned down to your backpack. What you pulled out was a little white mess with a red bow Cora couldn't make out.

His eyes followed every move you made with curiosity as you sneaked over to Law's sleeping form to place the thing next to him. On closer inspection, he realised that it was a stuffed animal in the shape of a polar bear. His lips escaped a gasp.

A quiet laugh escaped your lips when you saw his confused face as you came back to him. “I thought he deserves a little something…“ You settle back down in your place at his side, his big hand finally finding its place around your waist “You know, since it's Christmas tomorrow and he has been through so much…“ He gave it a gentle squeeze in acknowledgement as you explained further “It's his first Christmas without his Parents and Sister. It's not much I can provide, but it's at least a little something“. Between the three of you, you don't share much money at the moment.

You heard a low sob coming from above you and turned your head towards the source. "Rosi... it's okay" You gently wiped a tear away that was running down his cheek.

“That poor kid…he has to relive this tragedy over and over again“, Corazon sobbed as he watched Law's sleeping form slowly rise and fall with every breath. „And I‘m not able to help him…“ he grunted in disgust at his incapacity to help him and you. He just wanted to give you a better life by taking you away as well. „And you are to be dragged along, day after day, in the freezing cold“. And he even forgot it was Christmas.

As he felt you slip away from his side again, he sobbed further, rubbing his eyes with his arm to hide his pathetic tears.

You two shared passionate nights at his brother's residence before all this. Only to blow off steam, you were never more than fuck-buddys. And now he wasn‘t sure what you were, since you two haven‘t shared so much as a slight touch in weeks. But deep down he not only yearned for your body, but for your warmth, your smile and your presence.

Contrary to what he thought you felt for him at this moment, you weren‘t angry and fed up with him. With every day you spend with Rosinante and Law, your fondness of this gentle giant grew.

After some rustling of your backpack, he felt you come closer again and take your designated spot by his side. “Corazon… Rosi… look at me“ You gently beckoned him to look you in the eyes by cupping his cheek with one hand.

He opened his eyes to find your gentle smile beaming up at him. Oh, how he grew to admire that smile!

“I was saving this for tomorrow, but I think you need it now“, you said with a teasing tone. What you held up to his eyes, was a bottle of a very fine whiskey. It was adorned with a red bow, just like the present you had for Law.

“Merry Christ-“, before you could even finish that sentence, you were pulled into an embrace by Corazon. He nuzzled his nose into the crock of your neck and took in your warmth and scent. It grounded him. You were like a beacon in a snowstorm to him.

After you adjusted to the unforeseen position by straddling his lap, you sneaked your arms around him and graced his neck with your fingertips. His body was still trembling but his sobbing stopped at least.

Since he had grown up as a Celestial Dragon, his first impulse was to shower you with all the riches you could imagine. You deserved no less. But at this moment, he didn‘t have the means to give anything of that sort to you. He only had one thing to offer, but he would offer it to you wholly and truly.

Corazon gently grabbed you by your shoulders to make you look at him. “I forgot it is Christmas tomorrow“, he confessed, his tears all gone now and only a serious look on his face. You listened to him intently while watching his face contour with anxiety. “And unlike you, I have nothing physically to gift you“, he gently grabbed your smaller hand in his large one and guided it to hover over his heart.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you realised what he was doing. He pressed the palm of your hand gently to his chest and placed his above his beating heart. His amber eyes were transfixed onto yours. “I only have my heart to give to you… and I…“ he swallowed the lump in his throat “I mean it! So take it, it's yours if you‘ll have me!“.

You gasped as warmth exploded in your chest. You pressed your forehead to his and closed your eyes for a moment to collect yourself. His arms found their place around your back again.

“Donquixote Rosinante“ you whispered as tears welled up in your eyes. „Of course, I will take it“ your answer came out in a little sob. “I hoped for it!“. This was the most wonderful Christmas present you‘d ever gotten. No riches in the world compared to the love of this clumsy and kind giant.

All the tension left his body as he processed your answer. And so he held you in his arms, huddled in his warm feather coat to enjoy this little moment of happiness with you.

.

[woozisguitar]

hiii! happy 200 followers!!!💓 i just wanted to drop by and say your latest prompts have been so good and spot on, super loved them!!

could i maybe request something inspired by taylor swift sunbaenim’s peace for idol!hoshi x non-idol!fem reader? if it doesn’t work them something a lil angsty with that pairing would be just fine as well! 🥹 thank you!!

thank you!!!! sorry this took a while 😭 also omg I love how perfectly peace suits hoshi I was so excited to write this! hope you like it <33

requests for 200 celebration post: open

our coming-of-age has come and gone suddenly the summer, it's clear i never had the courage of my convictions as long as danger is near

soonyoung knew what he was doing when he asked you out. well, at least he liked to believe he did. not one to care about the public backlash, he was one of the few who liked to live openly and talk about the people he loved. he knew there were a lot of negatives in this job; he also knew he wouldn’t trade it for anything. that was until he met you. you, who swept him off his feet like a hurricane and left him stranded in the middle of nowhere. someone he found himself looking for in every person he encountered. someone he was willing to fight against the world for. someone he never thought in a million years would say yes when he asked you out.

and it's just around the corner, darling 'cause it lives in me no, i could never give you peace

soonyoung knew no matter what he did to shield you, his life would catch up quickly. he knew all the possible dangers the dates held. he knew all the possible dangers you could have to face because of him: the stalking, the hating, all of it. he knew dating him came with this life, and for an outsider, it would never be easy. the long tours, the sneaking out— all of it. he knew from the start he could never give you peace.

but i'm a fire, and i'll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade ocean wave blues come

still, a small, selfish part of him wanted you all for himself. he let himself indulge in the love you provided and hoped that his love for you was fierce enough to weather your stormiest days.

all these people think love's for show but i would die for you in secret the devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

when the news of this affair broke, the first response was to believe that this was fake. a pr stunt. people questioned your love, the past, the present, the potential future. everyone felt the need to give their opinions, to advise him, to tell him what to do and what not to do. but no one ever asked him what he thought, nor what he felt for you. because if they did, he would have only one answer. “i would die for you in secret,” he told you on nights when your insecurities got the best of you and your anxiety made you fraught. he knew the details, the facts, the whole reality and retaliation it would come with, scared you to death. you were worried this was going to cost him his career, his future. and soonyoung was scared too, but what terrified him more was the idea of leaving you. of leaving this: the romance, the kisses, the touches, the peace. would it be enough if i could never give you peace? he asked himself every time he saw you smile in the safety of your home.

your integrity makes me seem small you paint dreamscapes on the wall i talk shit with my friends it's like i'm wasting your honor

a week after the news broke, you got to work. you asked soonyoung to let you talk to the management about posting a few videos. most of these were videos of soonyoung talking about how he loved his fans more than anything and asked them if they would release a statement. one where you’d be more than happy to answer any questions. he knew it wouldn’t fare well—these people had certain expectations from their idols, idols who prioritize them over their personal life. but still, your hope, your absolute sheer positivity when you said, "maybe we can change their mind," made him love you more. on a certain binge-drinking night with his members shit-talking about the industry norms, he thought of you and how he would never be half as brave as he is now if it wasn’t for you.

and you know that i'd swing with you for the fences sit with you in the trenches give you my wild, give you a child

soonyoung vowed that he would do everything possible to protect you if this went south. hell, he was even prepared to leave his career and move countries if it meant keeping you safe. he was going to have your back for the rest of your life the second you decided you were never leaving him. he dreamt of you one night: you, him, and a faint silhouette of a child running around a white picket fence house. and he wasn’t willing to give up on that dream just yet.

give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other family that i chose, now that i see your brother as my brother is it enough? but there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me

the day the videos were released, soonyoung asked your family and his to come over. he figured if things went south, it would be better to be surrounded by people who loved them rather than facing it alone. and soonyoung will forever thank the gods who decided to shine the suns of you because the people were more than moved by the videos. he knew they wouldn’t accept this right off the bat, but it was a start. soonyoung was more than happy with a start. he knew this wasn’t the first and would definitely not be the last storm you’d have to weather together. he knew that the rain would always drench you as long as you were with him.

would it be enough if i could never give you peace? would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

soonyoung knew he could never give you peace. and for the first time, he debated that it’s okay if he couldn’t. maybe the peace he so desperately chased for the two of you would always be the moment in between your chaotic life where you’d look at each other and feel nothing but bliss.

and for now, that would be enough.

[the-californicationist]

Dearest, I find myself once again on my knees, hoping to scratch your brain for any crumbs of The Old Way universe. Just, have you had any thoughts on that au of how the characters are, what they're up to, or what dynamics have been built or are/would be shaping up to be?

I'm the same anon that asked a while ago and truly ignore this if this too much or annoying. I was just hoping if you could spare any crumbs of your goregous, genius mind. ilysm 🧎‍♀️💕 (also I'm in love with how you wrote priest/vamp price, amazing work on that!)

Hey anon! I’m so glad you liked vampire priest price! He was a fun one.

As for The Old Way, boy howdy, do I have thoughts!

Cause like, chapter two is obviously a hyper realistic exposition on the actual tradition of the bonded mating ritual between reader and Price, right?

Maybe this is a hear me out moment, but Omegaverse fics intrigue me for three main reasons which I will outline below and elaborate on in way too much detail:

1. The fuck-or-die element of the heat/rut cycle

2. The fantastical/unrealistic physical stretch required to take a knot

3. The fantastical/unrealistic duration (and lack of a refractory period) that a knot remains inside of its hole

To clarify…

As for the first, this is the true animalistic element, imo. And what’s hotter than sexual need, right? Like the feeling of sexual starvation being sated??? It makes my brain turn into literal mush. The first bite of food after a fast. The first sip of cool water after a march through the desert. The first gasp of air after swimming up from the deepest depths. The first touch of skin on naked skin when you’ve been writhing and needing and alone. Ugh. Fuck me up with that shit.

As for the second, I mean this is sort of personal preference and self-explanatory but I’m a girth>length fan. As is immediately obvious when you read anything I’ve written. But specifically in this fic; here’s a man who feels unworthy of love. His fat monster cock hurt someone he cared for. As fun as it is to haul around the State Fair Blue Ribbon schlong, no one likes being left out (or 13th-wheeling in Price’s case). And when he finds his glass slipper of a mate, he feels whole again. She saves him, and she saves the day, and it’s the happily ever after of my dreams. Yay, love!

But. Here’s the kicker. Number three. Number three keeps me up at night, y’all. It plagues me. It’ll sneak into my thoughts while I’m in the middle of my daily tasks, sucker-punching me right in the chest. Idk about other Omegaverses, but the idea that we could be stretched out and stuck on John Price’s Texas-sized dong for hours (and that there is a fantastical/unrealistic element of a pain-free, pleasurable experience on our end?) is delicious. Imagine, he’s trapped himself deep within you, oozing hot come, giving you that incredible feeling of fullness, and you are just basking in it together, enjoying the sparkling electricity of every twitch and jerk of his phallus. He’s reading Yeats to you and you’re grooming his soft, curling hair, he’s keeping your energy up by feeding you grapes and honey and wine and mead, he’s sharing his hand-rolled cigars with you, letting you feel the high of the nicotine and kissing you languidly, his lips so soft and pliant that you feel as if your two bodies might melt together like smooth chocolate, homogeneous in a way that no one else will ever know. All the while, your womb is full of his heavy load, stuffed and ladden with his seed, making your belly just the slightest bit round. He feels it with his wide palm, and you can’t help but imagine how you might be thus revered when you’re heavy with his child instead.

And how long?? I mean, what’s possible here — even if we abandon plausible? An hour? Two? A night? And how often? Would his rut drive him to mate with you repeatedly in a self-sacrificing/mindless sex-driven fury? Would bonded mates be capable of something more than normal ones? What are your true powers as the Apex Omega? So many questions.

So anyway. Sorry for the hear-me-out. I recognize that not everyone is as zealously curious about the implications of an Omegaverse as I am. I just think there’s so many different ways it could go. The universe itself has so many variable possibilities and that makes it easy to create and to be creative with it. It becomes even more interesting when you compound the sexual complications with the socio-cultural context of a community dealing with that sort of hierarchical environment. Just a world of interesting knots to untangle (pun intended and weaponized).

But, I’d also like to explore the other interpersonal relationships between our lovable companions. What’s Johnny’s big loving family like? How do the kids interact with each other? Is there a leader emerging from the MacTavish clan? What about Gaz and his three Omegas? Ghost and his mini tactical squad? All of them together? What drives them to help other clans? What’s their underlying mission? How will they ensure peace across the land? How do they allocate the obviously limited resources?

It would be a fun project to navigate. I’ve written scenes here and there for it but I’ve gotta finish these other long WIPs before I start something else.

Thanks for asking! I hope this answered your question.