#like yeah I really want to work in design and you know the dream is character design and concept art but that's unrealistic

[featherymainffins]

Kinda fucked up how all the people I know are like "Yeah I know what I want in my life. I want to work in X field and I want/don't want a long-term partner who I'm going to marry, I want kids and-"

and I'm there just like 🧍

[swordsandholly]

Across the Way

Chapter 4: New and Old Problems Alike

Retired!Ghoap x Fem!Fat!Reader

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

MDNI | cw: fainting, some medical inaccuracies

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

You haven’t texted them, even three days later. That little sticky note haunts the surface of your kitchen counter. It taunts you - tells you that you should text them and at least give them your number. That you’re being a terrible neighbor. They might need you too, after all. Even though you can’t figure out why they might for the life of you. On the other hand, you can’t help but feel wary about it. Men don’t take an interest in you - people in general rarely take interest. It’s hard not to feel suspicious, as pure as you’re sure their intentions probably are.

More so than any of that, you don’t know what to say. If it had been day one you could have just put your name, but now you feel like you need to explain. Or at least be funny or something. Tossing and turning on your designated rest day about what the hell you should do.

You’re overthinking it. You know that. You can’t stop, either.

They just seem so cool - so put together. So unlike you. You want to impress them. You don’t want to ruin the first possibility of friends in this new life you’re building for yourself.

Eventually you work up the courage to send off an initial text to each of them. Just to give them your name to save if they so choose - plus an extra thank you to Simon for giving you their numbers in the first place. Something simple and borderline cold. Too cold, maybe? Maybe you sound irritated. You hope not. You just want them to like you. Friends in new places are hard and to have someone around you who gets how it feels to need accommodations would just feel so… lovely. Your phone may or may not go flying onto your bed while you bury your face in your hands out of sheer nervousness.

You don’t expect it to chime about a minute later. Right as you’re staring to calm down, of course. It sends your heart violently pounding all over again.

J >> Bonnie lass!

J >> So glad u texted!!

>> Sorry it took so long lol

Oh, you could just slap yourself. You don’t have anything better than that? At all? Christ.

J >> Nah Nah

J >> No worries

J >> Actually I was wondering if u would mind if I came by tomorrow

J >> Just to chat

J >> need an excuse to get out of the house

“How the hell does he type that fast?” You scoff to yourself.

>> Yeah, come by anytime.

>> totally

>> yea sounds cool

>> rad, man

A message from Simon pops up mid your internal battle with how to respond, replying with a simple thumbs up. Very in character, you think. He knows how to be nonchalant. What would Simon say? Something casual, maybe a little formal.

>> If you like. You’re always welcome.

Okay maybe that was too much like Simon. You sigh heavily m before adding,

>> I’m trying out a new blueberry loaf

>> If you want to test for me :)

Better. That’s a little better. With another heavy sigh you decide to drop your phone into your nightstand for the rest of the day. Your heart really cannot handle this much emotional pressure.

~~~

You sort of end up just forgetting about the texts. With your phone out of sight and out of mind upstairs in your apartment it almost catches you off guard when Johnny comes striding through the door just before close. He’s dressed more casually than the last couple of times you saw him - having broken out the summer shorts and a graphic tee for some band you don’t recognize. It suits him, though.

“Hey, bon.” He grins.

“Hey.” You smile back, finishing with putting up your stocking baskets before dusting off your hands and turning around. “Simon closing up?”

“Aye.”

You hum. “Come on back, I’ll get you a slice of that loaf I mentioned.”

Johnny follows you quietly. Uncharacteristically quietly. That’s okay - you don’t have a problem with hanging out in silence. It doesn’t feel tense, surprisingly enough. He leaves Riley out front again. Should you get her a dog bed? Maybe if he comes by consistently. That would be nice. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“It’s sort of a pound cake but fluffier. I might make an icing for it but I don’t know if that would be too sweet…” You trail off, focusing on plating up the piece. You’re not sure what compels you to try and make it pretty for him. Probably something you could blame on your grandmother. She did have an obsession with presentation.

Johnny hums loudly after taking a bite, talking around the mouthful. “Y’should totally make an icing.” He swallows roughly. “Si would go crazy fer this.”

“Oh?” You smile. “I’ll send some home with you.”

There’s a lapse of silence while Johnny chews on his slice of bread and you pack up some in a paper bag for him to take home. The only sounds in the room comprised of your cutting and folding and the hum of the cooling oven.

“You’re being weirdly quiet.” You blurt, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. “I, uh, I mean that isn’t a bad thing! I don’t mind… I just, uh, was… sorry, never mind…”

“Well I did come wit’ a bit of an ulterior motive…” Johnny admits, glancing off to the side shyly. It’s a show, you think. Johnny doesn’t seem the type of man to have felt shy a day in his life.

You tilt your head. “Oh?”

He dusts off his hands and grins. “Let us take ye out! In celebration of yer first full month.”

Has it been a month already? “Oh - no, no you don’t have to-“

“C’mon! It’s a big accomplishment.” His smile is so bright that you almost believe his idea that you’ve done something great.

“…alright.” You give a tentative smile. It’s hard to believe they like you enough to want to hang out casually in the evening. Hard to imagine anyone liking you that much but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“There’s a pub down the street - the one on the corner. Want tae meet us there around six?” Johnny gives you that lovely smile. How could you ever say no to a smile like that?

“Okay.”

You spend far too long changing in and out of clothes and fussing with your hair. Up-do’s and buns and braids. A tank top then a sweater then a t-shirt. There’s no reason to feel this stressed over it. It’s not a date or anything. Besides, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Either way you look like a frumpy dumpling. Eventually you land on jeans and one of your designated ‘going out tops.’ At least it’s a good excuse to wear something other than work clothes or loungewear.

Excitement and anxiety thrum under your skin like electricity as you make your way down the street. You feel painfully nauseous - stopping once or twice just to make sure you aren’t about to throw up for real.

The pub is surprisingly quiet when you enter. Obviously somewhere only real locals hang out - there’s no theme or really any decor in general. Just a bar, some booths and a couple pool tables. You scan the floor a few times, not seeing either Johnny or Simon (not that they would be hard to miss). Eventually you just grab a soda from the bar and slide into one of the booths closer to the back. A quiet spot facing the door where you can easily watch for them.

As time ticks on you begin to grow increasingly nervous. Did you get the time wrong? No, no you triple checked. You even wrote it down in your planner. Your leg begins to bounce furiously, heart nearly beating out of your chest. Did they decide to ditch? You wouldn’t really blame them. They’re way out of your league when it comes to friends. Maybe Johnny had an emergency? Should you call Simon? If he had an emergency it would make sense that they would forget to notice you. What if something really bad happened? What if-

The front door opens and Simon’s wide frame strides through, holding the door for Johnny and Riley to come in behind him. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, willing your leg to stop bouncing with a pinch to your thigh. Why are you always so damn dramatic?

Johnny lights up with an ear to ear grin when he spots you, bee-lining for the booth while Simon casually walks up to the bar. It’s almost comedic, the way he dwarfs the counter. Johnny leans on the side of the booth, waiting for Simon, you think.

“Glad ye could come out.” He looks you over, eyes flicking from your plain top to the very practical, not at all stylish up do that you landed on for the evening.

You do your best not to squirm under his gaze. “Me too…”

Simon comes back with two beers in hand and slides them onto the table. He scoots into the inner booth to give Johnny the outer edge. Riley happily sits beside his leg and practically grins at you in a near mirror image of Johnny’s. You’d never do it while she’s on the job, of course, but part of you wants to give her a pat on the head and coo at her for being so polite.

Johnny gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry we were a bit late-”

“Johnny redid his hair about five times.” Simon butts in, not reacting at all to Johnny’s sputtering protest. He glances at your half-drunk soda. “Want me t’ grab you a beer?”

“Oh, no, I’ll just stick to coke.”

They blink at you. Simon cocks his head slightly. “You sure?”

You chew your lip. “Uh, alcohol tends to aggravate my symptoms is all...”

“Then why’d ye agree to drinks? We coulda gone somewhere else.” Johnny frowns.

You shrug. “I don’t mind. I… maybe this is over sharing but I’d rather go out and be kind of normal than just… not ever. Y’know?”

His expression softens. For having such icy blue eyes they are so, so warm. “I get it.”

“How’d you two meet anyway?” You blurt, taking a left turn to get the conversation off of you. It’s the first question that comes to mind. Maybe it’s rude - maybe you’re prying too much already.

“Military.” Simon grunts. “SAS.”

“Si retired wit’ me after I was discharged.” Johnny points to his scar the same way he did when you first met. “Russians scrambled my egg a bit.”

“Couldn’t do the time apart…” Simon murmurs, eyes locked on Johnny’s face. It’s vulnerable. More than he’s used to - you can see it in the way he tenses after saying it.

Something passes between them that a deep, wounded part of you desperately wishes to understand.

You can’t help but start giggling to yourself. They both give you an incredulous look. “Sorry, sorry - it’s just, that’s like… totally a romance book premise. It’s sweet. Really.”

“Och, aye. Wouldn’t know it t’ look at him but Si’s a real romantic.” Johnny bats his eyes at the other man, who just rolls his in response. The corner of his scarred mouth quirks up subtly.

“SAS…” You repeat, staring at your drink. “That’s like Navy Seal shit, right?”

“We worked with them a few times, yes.” Simon nods. There’s an air of ‘do not ask anything more specific’ in his voice.

“Huh.” You take that for what it is and sit back, squinting at them. “You don’t look it, honestly.”

Johnny laughs. “Tha’s just cause ye havennae seen Simon with his gear on. The Ghost.” He wiggles his fingers along as he makes a stupid, spooky sound effect. “I domesticated him.”

Simon scoffs but doesn’t deny it, just takes a quiet sip of his beer.

“Riley’s a vet, too.” Johnny pats her head. “Got too skittish around loud noises but she transitioned into a service dog nicely.”

“Now she’s just spoiled.” Simon rolls his eyes in faux annoyance. You get the strong feeling that he’s the one doing the spoiling.

You find yourself relaxing as the night goes on. Slouching in your seat rather than sitting ramrod straight and nervously twiddling your thumbs. They never press you to drink, never insist that you’ll be fine with just one. They take your statement as fact and it isn’t brought up again. That shouldn’t be as significant as it is, now that you think about it.

Johnny’s words begin to slur a little bit on his fourth, no maybe fifth, beer. You aren’t sure. It’s very cute, the little blush that forms across his cheeks. Simon loosens up, too. He slings an arm around the back of the booth and Johnny readily tucks himself into the open spot. You find yourself wondering about their military career again. You can’t picture either of them committing violence - especially Simon. Sure, he’s big and gruff but he looks at Johnny so, so softly.

Simon is the one to call it a night - though you have a feeling its because you nodded off a couple times. Not out of boredom, you try really, really hard to pay attention to Johnny rambling about the chemistry of different explosives. He makes it interesting, somehow. Really it’s just that you’ve been awake for… holy shit almost twenty hours!

“D’you need a ride?” Simon asks as you exit the pub, hands firmly shoved into his pockets.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know how to interpret the look he’s giving you. It’s intense, but not annoyed or displeased. He has such a weird knack for unreadable but distinct expressions. You wonder if you’ll ever get close enough to get good at deciphering them.

You jump when Johnny takes both your hands in, kissing the backs of them with a sloppy, drunk smile. “Thank ye fer comin’ out. “

Somehow your face feels hotter than a damn oven. You tuck your hands to your chest, kicking shyly at the sidewalk. “Th-thanks for the invite. We, uh, we could do it again sometime?”

You glance up hopefully, praying that you didn’t misread the situation. You’ve done that before - thought people liked you more than they did. Johnny just grins wider somehow and nods excitedly.

You watch them walk off in the other direction, hand in hand. Johnny giggles about something loudly and you can see Simon’s shoulders shake with a far more silent laugh. All the way until they disappear down the street.

The sheer amount that the image hurts your heart makes you feel evil.

~~~

The pub changed something. What, you don’t know. Either way, you fall into an easy pattern with Johnny and Simon over the next couple weeks. Exchanges of food, leftovers or morsels about to turn, little visits back and forth between your shops. Johnny continues to stop by after close, just hanging around with you while Simon closes up shop.

You can’t deny how much you look forward to hearing that door chime followed by a too-loud greeting from Johnny. How your heart flips in your chest when those bright blue eyes peek around the corner into the back room or light up while trying a new recipes you’ve been testing. You’re still a bit awkward - unsure how to react when he throws an arm around your shoulders or listens oh so intently while you talk about nothing important.

Things can’t ever be all sunshine and rainbows, though. Not for you. A new problem has arisen as summer truly sets in - the comfortable spring breezes giving way to nothing but bright, unfiltered sun. One you didn’t expect to impact you this much living this far north.

Heat.

It’s hard to breathe in the back room while you’re baking. Hard to keep your water and salt intake high enough to compensate for how fast you lose them. You might as well get a permanent saline drip attached to you at this point. You definitely didn’t google if that was physically possible. Your budget for liquid IVs and other supplements nearly doubles. Standing over the massive oven in the back room has your head swimming a few times. You end up resting longer on your weekends, unable to keep up like you could in cooler weather.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, the summer here isn’t like back home. It will pass quicker. Plus, you at least have methods of dealing with it now other than crossing your fingers and praying.

“Bonnie!” Johnny suddenly appears in your doorway - that charming smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Ye made it up Main Street yet?”

“No?” You tilt your head and try to ignore the way your vision spots momentarily at the motion. “Why?”

“Ye dinnae hear about the summer festival?” He leans on your counter. You shake your head. “It’s a yearly thing. Not that big a deal but they have some fun games an’ it’s nice tae see everyone out an’ about. Si an’ I are about tae head down. Come wit’?”

You hesitate. The exhaustion in your body tugs at your spine. Your limbs feel heavy. This morning really got to you - out of towners who must have come for the festival flooded your shop the moment it opened on top of your Saturday regulars. Not that you’re complaining, really. It’s easily your best day so far. You want to go with them, though, despite the ache in your back and the sting in your joints. It sounds so fun and it’s never a bad idea to take part in your new community’s festivities.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” You smile. You can tough it out for an hour, then come back home. Yeah, just an hour. You’ll be fine.

You hadn’t noticed Simon leaned up at the entrance to your shop. Your eyes lock on his arms. This is the first time you’ve actually seen him in short sleeves. You can’t help but stare at his half-sleeve tattoo - all skulls and bombs and other military motifs. Faded and sun worn. Yeah, if you’d seen that sooner you definitely would have picked up on the whole military thing. You bite your lip to keep from snickering about it.

You can hear the music drifting from the speakers down the street. A few kids run by with balloons and cheap carnival prizes. It almost reminds you of the Spring Fling back home, just missing the extreme American flag theming across every booth and vendor front. Now that you’re looking around, you can actually see several booths that have been sponsored by various businesses in the area. Even the post office has a snow cone stand. The deeper you get into the event, the more flamboyant the decor becomes. Multicolored streamers and pennet flags connect stands, creating an almost canopy effect.

Simon stops rather abruptly at a booth, waiting behind a few teenagers tossing rings onto bottles. You stop with Johnny about two feet away. What’s he thinking? Simon doesn’t seem like the type who would be too entertained by basic carnival games. Even so, he steps forward and passes over a couple bills to the vendor as soon as the teenagers leave.

“Si’s really good at these. Watch.” Johnny grins beside you.

“Aren’t they rigged?” You raise an eyebrow.

Johnny doesn’t answer, eyes locked on his husband as he lines up one of the rings. You have to lean slightly to see around the breadth of the man - the multicolor rings almost cartoonishly small in his hands. Cute. Your eyes get impossibly wide with each toss, every single one landing comfortably on the bottle necks as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if this isn’t one of the most commonly rigged carnival games.

“Holy shit…” You mutter, still staring.

“Aye, tha’s a SAS sniper for ye.” Johnny laughs. “Glad tae see it still comes in handy.”

Simon huffs out a quiet laugh at that. Almost more of a sigh if it weren’t for the shaking of his shoulders. You love it - their little dynamic. The bond between them that’s so strong it’s almost visible.

“‘ere.” Simon turns to you suddenly, holding out a cheap little carnival prize. You can’t even begin to decipher what it’s supposed to be - some sort of furry puff ball with big, embroidered anime eyes and two felt antennae sticking up out of it’s purple head… body… thing…

Your face heats. “F-, uh, me?”

He shrugs. “Suits you. Riley will just chew it up if we take it home.”

“Aye. She’s so good with everythin’ but cheap plushies.” Johnny snickers.

You glance down at the dog in question - her dark eyes glued to the toy in Simon’s hand. Her tail thumps against the ground where she sists dutifully, but you can see the desire to snatch the thing away in her twitchy ears and pleading eyes. You snort, taking the stupid thing and tucking it under your arm with the prayer that they don’t notice the heat now spreading from your cheeks to your ears.

“Thanks…” you murmur, already mentally deciding where to add it to the mess of stuffies covering your bed already.

Somehow you end up walking between them down the street - Simon on your left and Johnny on your right with Riley in tow. You stop at a few other games here and there. All pretty basic. Johnny absolutely kills at the dunk booth.

Simon tires his hardest to help you with your terrible aim, “Just visualize it. Y’have t’ account for the arc.”

You get to the point of sticking your tongue out in concentration. Even so you only manage to knock down a couple of the wooden ducks at the ‘Dunk-A-Duck’ stand. You do, however, win one of those rock candy sticks at the guessing booth. You just hand it off to Johnny. It’s probably not best to load up on sugar in your current state.

Johnny excitedly points to different buildings giving you a rundown of the history of his hometown as you walk. Simon seems to barely be listening. He’s probably heard this a thousand times. Prattling on about the old town square, the church bell that a bunch of teenagers spray painted one time (Johnny was not involved, how could you accuse him of that?)

You find yourself focusing on your feet - keeping each step even and fast enough to remain on pace with them. One, two, one, two, one, two. The air begins to thicken. Muggy and heavy on your skin. Your breaths become shallow and fast. You can’t catch it, the air seeming to get stuck in your throat rather than reaching your lungs. Spots begin to dance across your vision. You stumble over nothing.

Not now! Come on! You’ve been doing so well!

Riley presses against your leg acting as a counter weight. Your body moves on instinct to grab whatever you can - hands wrapping around something strong and covered with cloth. An arm solid as rebar. Hopefully it’s someone you know. All you can see are colorless shapes.

“Gonna pass out - don’t freak!” You gasp before your legs give out.

It’s not that you go entirely out - it’s rare that you fully black out. It’s more like being stuck. Limp and fuzzy and confused. Almost like sleep paralysis. There’s voices and people moving around you. Someone has picked you up, you think, based on the swaying motion and the passing shapes around you. Maybe that’s just vertigo. A door bell chimes.

You finally begin to really come to when something icy is pressed to your forehead. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds that you were gone, but it takes much longer for the world around you to come back into focus.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, eyes stinging. Even after all these years it’s so damn embarrassing. You blink, the distinct mural that decorates the ceiling of the post office slowly coming into view. Johnny said a big time traveling artist painted it back in the nineties.

“Ye alright?” Johnny murmurs, crouched down beside you. Riley sniffs at your hand, seeming satisfied when you finally move it on your own.

You nod slowly. “Overheated…”

“Give her this.” Someone says. An event medic, you think. The boys must have flagged them down. Fingers press to your pulse point, a light shines in your eyes and you follow it. A quick check of vitals. Johnny shoves a water bottle in your hand as soon as the medic decides you’re fine to move - the contents distinctly murky from some sort of electrolyte pack that’s been shaken into it.

“Up y’get. Slowly does it.” Simon helps you sit up with a hand on your back. It’s so gentle. You don’t miss how he cages in your body the way only someone intimately familiar with caretaking might. Fully ready to catch you if you go limp again.

You sip slow, eyes glued to the ground. You feel so fucking stupid. Can’t even walk down a street without creating some sort of scene. They’re never going to want to hang out with you again, are they? You can’t go out drinking, can’t walk around a festival for longer than a couple hours. You distracted Riley. What if something happened to Johnny while you were having your spell? She might not have alerted correctly because of you. She might have gotten confused and then he could have gotten hurt. He might have-

“Ye really should drink tha’ instead of glarin’ at it.” Johnny pulls you from your thoughts. He’s now sat with his legs crossed beside you. Riley’s head rests in his lap. She seems calm. Content now that the emergency is over and happily lying on a cool floor.

You hum, chugging the last bit of it quickly. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Simon says curtly. “Does this ‘appen often?”

You shrug. “Not as much anymore… usually my medication keeps me stable.”

“Do ye need a doctor?” Johnny tilts his head slightly. There’s no judgment in his tone - in either of their tones. Just calm concern. It probably shouldn’t make you want to cry as much as it does.

You shake your head. “I’ve got liquid IV at home. Just need to sleep it off.”

Hopefully. In reality, a pain flare up is inevitable now. You just won’t know how bad until you’re fully in it.

“Let’s get ye home.” Johnny says, knees popping as he stands.

“I-I’m fine!” You insist, mentally preparing to get yourself up off the floor. “I can get home on my own - I don’t want to ruin your time.”

Johnny levels his gaze onto you, so serious it almost looks angry. It doesn’t match his face. “We’re not leavin’ ye tae get home alone like this.”

You’re caught off guard when an arm slides under your back and another under knees - lifting you like you weigh half of what you do in reality. Like you’re a paperweight instead of a boulder. You blink up at Simon, far too surprised to be embarrassed. At least at first. You splutter out a poor attempt at convincing him to put you down. Excuse and reason after reason and excuse. They roll off him like water off a ducks back. Your face burns as he steps out of the post office with you neatly tucked against his chest - Johnny and Riley in tow.

If you allow yourself to be honest, to give into that weaker part of you (or, at least, the part you consider to be weak) you could possibly admit that this feels nice. Being cared for feels nice. Having your body up against someone else feels nice. It’s been a long time since anyone touched you outside of a polite handshake or accidental bump. You sink into it despite yourself - relaxing against Simon’s chest. They were right, you wouldn’t have made it back. Your head is too fuzzy and there’s that telltale pain in your shoulders radiating up to your neck that signifies an oncoming Bed Day.

It doesn’t take long with Simon’s lengthy strides to get back to your building. You probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up to that running. Well, you can’t really run much at all so you definitely wouldn’t. A stupid, muddled train of thought that melts into the hazy bog of your current mental state. Even Johnny trails a few feet behind. Neither of them speak, marching in determined silence. You attempt to subtly check their faces for any anger. You’d understand if they were angry. Most people would get angry. You interrupted their day out with your useless drama. All you get is a wide, bright grin from Johnny when your eyes eventually meet his.

Simon puts you down with all the care in the world. As if you’re made of fine china. His hand stays on your upper back - planted firmly between your shoulder blades and ready to catch you if need be. Your vision swims a bit, your joints feel like jelly but you manage to dig your keys out of your pocket and unlock the door.

“Here.” Johnny plops the puff ball back into your hands just as you turn to say goodbye. To say thank you - to apologize profusely.

Your brows raise. You completely forgot about it while swimming around in a sea of embarrassment - he must have picked it up for you. You hug it to your chest with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You shift your weight side to side, psyching yourself up for the crawl up the stairs. Probably literally. You don’t think you could stay upright if you tried to walk them like a regular day, or even with an aid. Like a regular or semi-regular person. Fuck.

Johnny follows your eyes up at the staircase. He must sense some hesitation in you. “Do ye need help up?”

You bite your lip, staring at the ground. Standing in one place seems alright, but the thought of climbing is so daunting, even with the cane you have stationed at the bottom of the steps for that exact purpose. It’s embarrassing. You’re young, you should be able to walk up some damn stairs. It isn’t even that many. It’s barely a full flight. Just one story of stairs for fuck’s sake.

“Hey.” Simon touches your cheek, the action snapping your eyes to his in surprise. “It’s okay. C’mere.”

He picks you up again in the same fashion with barely a grunt, taking his time up the steps so as not to jostle you. How many times has he done this with Johnny? you wonder. That’s the only explanation for how good he is at keeping your equilibrium so even. You wonder if he practiced - if he took caretaking classes. He probably did. Does he keep up at the gym just so he can take care of his husband? Simon might be quiet and a little formal, but he exudes dedication.

“Sorry it’s messy…” You murmur when they reach the top of the steps. Glancing behind you, you see Riley sitting patiently at the bottom. Johnny must have told her to stay. “Haven’t gotten to fully unpack…”

You’ve been spending too much time in bed on the weekends. Fucking lazy.

Johnny just laughs. “Ye shoulda seen the first place Simon an’ I had.”

“Wasn’t that bad.” Simon argues, carefully setting you down on the couch. His hands hold your waist to steady you. They’re so warm… It feels wrong to be disappointed when he lets go.

“We hadnae figured out a system yet.” Johnny huffs, hands on his hips. “We ended up hirin’ a specialized maid service the dishes got so backed up.”

You scoff, laying back against the couch with that stupid carnival prize still in your arms. Like it’s the only thing grounding you to reality. The tears that have been stinging your eyes this entire time continue to threaten to spill - a myriad of blinks and careful breaths the only thing keeping them back.

Johnny sits beside you slowly. You can’t meet his eyes. “Do… do ye want tae tell us what it is? Ye donnae have tae - it’s up tae ye. Just if somethin’ happens again…”

“We’d like to be prepared.” Simon jumps in where Johnny trails off.

You chew your lip, still staring up at the ceiling. It splits and that coppery taste coats your tongue for a moment. “I, uh, it’s called POTS. There’s different types but basically my body can’t regulate blood flow and pressure right…” You shrug. “Like I said my medication usually keeps me mostly okay.”

It’s the pain that really gets to you usually, but you don’t need to start dumping on them about that. There’s no reason to spill your guts about things they can’t fix.

“Thanks fer tellin’ us.” Johnny smiles. You stiffen slightly when he reaches out to tuck some hair behind your ear. You tilt your head, still resting on the back of the couch, to meet his eye. “Get some rest, yeah? We’ll lock the knob behind us. Call if ye need anythin’.”

“Okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes down and picking at your nails. “Sorry… about all this… I didn’t - I don’t… I’m sorry.”

“Donnae apologize.” He says softly as he stands. “Never apologize. We’re your friends, aye? Friends help friends. Tha’s all there is to it.”

Simon gives you a discerning nod behind him, expression both soft and deeply serious.

Friends? They consider you real life proper friends? Really? You can’t help but beam up at him. “Yeah.”

A/N: I’ve re-read this chapter so many times that it’s total mush in my brain which tells me it’s time to be done with it.

Bonus: I made a Pinterest board for this fic

[lottie150209]

John Price fingering you in front of the mirror, x afab fem reader, MDNI !!!

tags: John price smut, Price cod, John price, Captain john price x reader, Captain price, Price x reader, call of duty smut, cod smut, cod price, john price x reader, captain john price

cw: Mirror kink, “Good girl”, reader gets fingered

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m sorry I haven’t really uploaded much life’s been a bit busy!! I’m working on some things rn but the motivation to keep writing is really low but i’ll power through no doubt 👍👍 enjoy!!!! ps: I barley proof read it 😭

John Price was a mad man; a fucking machine. Built like a superhero, covered in dirt with that sexy beard of his but god damn you’d let him do the unspeakable to you.

He could fuck for hours, for nights- you swore if he had enough energy he could go on for days. But one thing he struggled to do was finger you.

You felt a bit embarrassed to ask why as you always assured him it felt good but the disgruntled expression and sigh he makes when he pulls out of you made you worry. You began to wonder if it was something wrong with you and that’s the reason why.

In your head it made sense, him making it plainly obvious he didn’t want to do it every-time it was over but your mind always made something up to contradict your theory.

If he hated it so much why did he enjoy eating you out? Why would he throw you in the bed, staring at your pussy hungry before attacking your clit fast and hard like the military captain he is? And if he hated fingering you so much why did he offer?

Why did he do that?

You stretched your legs out under your office chair before packing your bag and leaving work, on your way home. Tonight was the night you were going to ask him, embarrassing or not. You couldn’t let your dwelling and overthinking cluster up your head any longer, it was time.

You opened the gate to your rustic home and headed for the big door. The house you two had bought was quiet old and elegant and you’d loved it so much, decorating the decaying walls and overgrown garden and making it your own. You loved the style and it made you feel cozy, this was your dream house.

The door shut behind you and the farmilliar scent of vanilla candles and firewood cascaded through the walls as the fire cracked beside you. You hung up your coat and dumped your bag on the floor.

“Baby? Where are you?” You called and after hearing a couple strained grunts you heard Price yell back a ‘Here’ from upstairs. Curiosity flooded your mind and you jogged up the stairs and pushed open your bedroom door to see him crouched on the floor, tool kit sprawled behind him and a screw driver in his hand.

“What the fuck is that?” The laughter of your voice falling through as you store at the mirror nailed to the wall, it was huge. Something out of a ballet studio and you turned back to him, heavy breathing and whipping the sweat off of his pink face.

“Thought you’d like it, pretty big though.” Yeah, just a little. Head to toe taking all the room and right in-front of the bed, how amazing. Cant wait to wake up to my own reflection.

“Doesn’t exactly go with the rustic design of the house does it?” But all he did was laugh and pull you closer, giving you a sloppy but loving kiss on the lips as you tried to wriggle away. His hands clasped around you waist and you remembered what you were going to ask him. Your mouth fell ajar but before you could speak he was dragging along the wide wooden chair to sit on before placing it infront of the mirror and take a seat.

“Want to know what it’s for?” He asked, words laced with something you couldn’t put your tongue on but you hesitantly nodded, wondering why he bought this. It must’ve costed a lot, and it was rather beautiful, it was as clear as glass. Why did he get this.

Price smirked letting a deep chuckle through his tight lips before patting his laps for you to sit. You sat down hesitantly and glacéd in the mirror at you two, his hands around your waist, just above your black skirt and eyes locked onto you. His left hand trailed up towards your neck sending tingles down your body and dampening your panties again. His other creeping closer down and rubbed your thigh soothingly.

“When I finger you love, I struggle a lot. I know you notice and I want to let you know why I struggle.” His hand reached your neck just below your chin and he tilted your neck back so your head laid on his strong shoulder, still looking at yourself in the mirror, with him in control.

"I love to see my fingers inside you, your cum gushing out after i finger you, but i also love to see your little face. Your cute little scrunched eyes, mouth wide open out of pleasure.” You couldn’t fight back the small whimper you let out as his hands on your thigh slowly rose higher, slipping comfortably under your skirt.

“But darling i’m getting old now, aren’t I? It’s too hard to look up then down then up- I miss a few things and I don’t like missing.” His seductive grin send pools of lava to your stomach and your thighs tensed under his hands as his thick fingers grazed the soft fabric of your panties. Teasing you and loving every fucking second.

“But fuck, from this angle? I can see all of you, all of you at once. Your breathing, face, pussy, everything and I love it.” You shut your eyes in embarrassment and you felt your face burn while he slid your underwear down slowly and gently tapped against your precious sensitive skin.

Tracing slowly down your wet slit coating himself in your taste. He groaned at the feeling kissing your temple while his finger prodded into your entrance greedily. Next time he will take his time, next time he will have you begging for his fingers. Next time because god he couldn’t wait now.

The thickness of his finger stretched you out slightly as he thrusted it in and out of you, burning your hole slightly as he added another and another. Your moans and cries send sparks to his dick below you and you felt him harden more and more beneath you- he didn’t stop to fuck you though.

“Oh yeah darling look at you, fucking look at yourself.” His other hand stretched to your chin, tilting your face up and through tears you watched yourself be finger fucked by John. Tightening around his hand more and moaning louder as tears rolled down your cheek.

“Baby I’m going to-” You started but he shut you up shushing you quiet with a small kiss and rapid movements. His husky voice demanding you just to let yourself go.

“Come on, that’s it. Just let it all go, cum on my fingers. Good girl, oh my god you’re such a good girl.” As you came, cum squirting out of your abused hole and dripping down his sticky fingers. Your back arched and your legs started to shake and tremble against him and he just smiled. Pulling out of you and holding you for a moment, licking his fingers clean.

“Was that good darling? I loved it. So much better than usually fingering you.” You breathing calmed down slowly as you shakily nodded. John leant over giving you another loving kiss before chuckling.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to calm down and then we’ll go again, yeah?”

[kingconia]

HOW TWISTED WONDERLAND'S HOUSEWARDENS ACT WHEN YOU ARE THEIR FAVOURITE CELEBRITY

— ; gender-neutral ; might as well do the second and the third part with vices and first years if you want ;

Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️

— You are his favourite fashion designer. It might sound ridiculous on some extent, but he fell in love with your collections of clothes in his early childhood;

— Not only you made an exquisite pieces on your own, but also, as a former student of NRC—most likely, from Pomefiore—you often create collections inspired by each of houses;

— Riddle's mother strongly shares his strange obsession over you, so she bought him a lot of your clothes;

— When he becomes a student, he indulges himself by ordering a special lining of clothes that will be made only for him.

•

”I see,” you nod, gripping a pencil harder as you frantically draw something on the paper. ”That wouldn't be a problem at all. In fact, I actually enjoy your ideas.”

”Really?” Riddle blushes traitorously, almost knocking the tea cup of the table. Gladly, you don't notice due to being too involved in sketching. ”I, I mean, it is pleasant to know.”

Just as rumours told, you were a very interesting, though, extravagant creature. Not in the rude way. But it seemed like an outside world hardly existed for you. All your attention was centred on your works.

”Give me two weeks, and I will finish everything,” you finally look at him, eyes sprinkling with a pure inspiration. ”Will it be fine for you, mister Rosehearts?”

”Of course,” he offers you a nervous smile. ”Take all the time in the world, please”

”Good,” you hum, standing up from your chair. ”It is pleasant to work with you.”

He nods, being completely at loss of his words. You are his idol, his legend... He doesn't know how to talk with you.

”Oh, and... Thank you for this short opportunity to visit the walls of my old school once again. It is interesting experience,” you wink at him, before disappearing in the depth of his garden.

Riddle gasps.

That is so much better than his dreams!

Leona Kingscholar. 💛

— Might be a controversial opinion, but you are his favourite political figure in the Afterglow Savannah;

— Perhaps, it is because you are not dazzled by his brother, always keeping your coolheaded and calculated attitude. Or maybe it is because you actually tried to help him to get involved in the country's council. Nevertheless, he strangely adores you;

— As a kid he dreamt a lot of becoming a king, and making you his consort. But, of course, his dreams were useless and quite embarrassing;

— Yet, even after all these years, are the only person, who makes him stutter. Ruggie honestly loves it;

•

”It is pleasure you meet you again, prince Leona.”

As soon as Leona makes an eye contact with you, he gets absolutely lost. It takes almost a minute from him, to bow his head before you respectfully, and to answer.

”...Farena never mentioned you coming,” he tries to sound cool as usual, but his tail is swaying nervously, betraying him. ”But, of course, you are very welcomed here.”

You nod, but stay very oblivious to his excitement. You never actually notice his adore towards you, always too focused on your work, rather than paying attention on people around.

”I had a meeting with this head of the school of yours,” you frown a little at these words, and he assumes you didn't really like Crowley. ”And his Majesty decided to bring Cheka along. Since he insisted, I couldn't deny the wish of little prince.”

”Yeah... Thank you very much for taking care of this little cub.” He mutters, tugging his own braids nervously. ”May I ask what could possibly be required from Crowley?”

Your ears perk up a little; a good sign of you being interested in the topic. Leona instantly feels smug that he was able to raise a right topic to drag you in conversation.

”If prince Leona doesn't mind, we could discuss it while walking around your school,” you suggest, now with your tail swaying enthusiastically. ”I also think, you will be interested in my proposition."

As if he isn't interested in everything you do...

”I wouldn't dream of anything better,” he answers honestly. ”Ruggie will take care of Cheka then.”

Ruggie, whose present was forgotten easily, rolls his eyes. As two of you leave, speaking in the hushed tones, he couldn't help but cuss at Leona. What an annoying brat he is.

Azul Ashengrotto. 🩵

— Quite predicable. You are his favourite lawyer in the whole world, much to his stepfather's displeasure;

— He is actually the one, who told stories about you—since you are working in the same area—but he couldn't imagine that his son will be so invested in your figure;

— Azul has a whole wall with cutouts from news about your wins in the court. He stares at it every morning, for—as he says—a manifestation a luck and success;

— He is buzzing with excitement, when Crowley invites you on the orientation day to inspire his students.

•

You let out a tired groan.

It is not the first time you are invited on lections for kids, but it was definitely the hardest one. Mostly, because there was this very enthusiastic boy, who asked you a million questions about everything. Your work, your ideals, your previous cases.

And while you could feel a great potential in him, you also was drained. That is why when you hear his voice again, you are thinking about running away.

”Excuse me, Y/n Y/s? I... I apologise for the interruping your rest time, but I simply wanted to say how impressive you are, and—”

You raise your hand, gesturing him to stop. He does so, a little bit ashamed.

”What is your name?” You ask him instead.

”I... My name is Azul Ashengrotto,” he pauses, glancing at the floor, probably, assuming you will scold him.

”Oh,” you blink in late realisation. ”I know your father. He is the lawyer, too, isn't he?”

He nods, and you finally realise where he got this persistence from.

”Well, Azul...” You shuffle in your pocket, finding one of many visit cards you carry with you, handing it to him. ”You are truly quite smart kid. And if you will still be sure in becoming a lawyer later, after your school ends, you can always contact me. I think, I could become your mentor.”

He stares at your visit cards so shocked, that you wonder if he is okay. Nevertheless, as he is speechless, you are quickly attempting to leave the corridor, before he starts asking more.

”T... Thank you very much! I will.” You hear him saying, when you are already at doors.

It is a shame you miss his screeching sounds of happiness as you left, though. People will kill to see Azul Ashengrotto acting like this.

Kalim Al-Asim. 🧡

— Another predictable answer. You are his favourite dancer;

— You dance in some different styles at the same time, and he honestly adores the way you switch so easily between them;

— ...He is crying from the pure excitement, once you try east style of dances, and Jamil listens him sobbing for an hour, while he spams your Magicam with millions of complements;

— Of course, Kalim shoves a sack of money in Crowley's face, so he could invite you on some ball in the school to perform, lmao.

•

”I am honestly flattered,” you admit shyly, while Kalim kisses your hands adoringly. ”And surprised! We, dancers, rarely appreciated as much as actors or singers... But, uh, thank you very much!”

Kalim jumps on his feet, smiling even wider with each word. Not only you danced gracefully, but also spoke this way! He is so amazed by you!

”No, no, thank you! You can't explain how much joy you bring in my life!” He practically screams, making others to glance in your direction suspiciously. ”I actually wanted to show my gratitude! So, maybe you want to have dinner with me and Jamil! Jamil's cooking is just amazing! You will love it!”

You raise your brows in surprise, but laugh quietly. This boy is very, very funny.

”Oh, that sounds nice, but... I have a special diet, so I assume I cannot...”

Before your finish your sentence, a lean and dark figure of the boy around Kalim's age appears behind you. With a slight nudge to your shoulders, he whispers, almost pleadingly.

”Please, agree to this offer. He is literally will cry for hours if you don't.”

Ah, that is supposedly Jamil...

You return your gaze on Kalim, who is watching you with big, watery eyes. You really can't say no...

”I assume... If only for an hour or, so...”

"Yay!”

Idia Shroud. 💙

— You are his favourite cosplayer, because of course you are;

— A love from the first sight, some can call it. But he is obsessed with each character you do! You nail it!

— He is not social enough to actually write comments on your photos, or even appear on the same Cons as you, so instead, he keeps his love anonymous;

— And by that I mean sending you a lot of donations, and buying all your Wishlist for new cosplays, lmao.

•

You stare at the big amount of money that came to your account this morning. The sender stays the same throughout this year; an anonymous fan named as a Hounddog666. No matter how concerning it is, you are actually flattered. Someone really loves you this much!

So, as usual, you message to him to thank for it.

His account—the only one you has—is private and closed, no photos, no names, no followers. You assume it is fake.

You:

Hello, hello! :) I just received your new gift, and I wanted to say how much I am grateful for your support. I wish I could do something for you as well, though.

Answers comes immediately.

Hounddog666:

Greetings. Please, continue to make all of us happy with your art. It means a lot for me. (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. How sweet.

You:

Thanks, really. Maybe we should meet sometime, if you are such a fan of mine, haha.

Perhaps, it is slightly stupid and naive decision. This person could be a possible stalker or maniac, but... Well, you couldn't help but be curious of how exactly looks a person that adores you like this.

Hounddog666:

Perhaps.

You hum as he vanishes from online.

At the meantime, Idia Shroud falls from his chair after recieving your message, making other students in the History of Magic class glare at him with disapproval. But what would they know? He is just became closer to his idol!

Vil Schoenheit. 💜

— Surprisingly... You are his favourite writer;

— The connection between actors and writers is always a strong one. Writers and books are a constant tools for actors that help them understand characters and their inner thoughts;

— Vil isn't an expectation! He loves your books for many years, and his only dream was to play some of your characters;

— That is why he immediately suggested his candidature on the main lead in the film adaptation of your book that was announced recently.

•

Vil huffs, staring at his reflection absent-mindedly. A closed scenario in front of him ache his eyes, making his chest to tighten nervously.

This character, whose role he got, is his favourite actually. As a teenager, he found this boy with a complicated writing, a very relatable one. And he thought, it would be easy to play him as they share the same issues and pain. Bur instead, he finds himself... Feeling worse as he does so.

Each conversation with your about this character makes him feel nauseous. It is as if he is playing himself! And for some reason that he can't understand, it is not pleasant at all!

”Here you are,” he hears your warm voice, and before he realises you are close, you already put a cup of green tea in front of him. ”Are you okay, Vil?”

He nods thankfully, accepting the drink.

He should be happy now. He met his favourite person in the world, he has a possibility to speak with you so casually. Then why, he feels so shattered?

”I am,” Vil answers. ”It is just... A hard role.”

You nod, and he catch the glimpse of understanding in your eyes.

”Trust me, I know. Writing him wasn't easy, too. Do you know why?” He shakes his head. "Because I put a lot of myself in him. And it felt... Awful. As if I was peeling my own skin from myself, layer by layer, until I was left naked in front of thousands... No, millions people. It is never easy to be sincere, I am afraid.”

Vil blinkes.

This! This is why he loves your books. It is the way how beautiful you yield your thoughts, putting them in gentle, yet piercing, words. It is about you understanding him, despite never knowing before.

He finds himself smiling widely.

”This makes me even more glad that I am playing him,” he says, more collected than before.

You laugh, patting his shoulder slightly.

”I feel the same way about you playing him, Vil. Believe me or not, you look and act exactly as I pictured him to be.”

He gasps happily.

You are satisfied with him. That's absolutely beautiful!

”I will try not to disappoint, then.”

Malleus Draconia. 💚

— You are his favourite artist whose works were introduced him by Lilia;

— He fell in love with your drawings first, but as soon as he realised that you not only draw, but also make sculptures, he fell in love even more;

— Buys and adores everything you do, but especially likes it, when you give interviews, explaining all little details and historical context behind your works. You are smart. He likes it about others;

— No surprise he commissions a gargoyle statue from you, eventually.

•

”You speak so beautiful, young prince,” you murmur, astonished by the fae in front of you. ”I... I can't explain how charmingly inspiring your stories are!”

Malleus feels unexplainable amount of joy, when he sees you pacing from one side room to another, inspired by his words. His stories.

No one ever shared his interest in gargoyles, and this kind of reaction feels... Strangely rewarding.

”It is only small part of what I have to say about gargoyles,” he assures you quietly. ”But I am glad that you find it as curious as I do.”

”Curious?” You echo his words, stopping in front of him. ”That is not curious, young prince, that is ethereal. Ephemeral. It feels like chasing a dream.”

He smiles at your excitement, baring his fangs out. He feels the same way about it. For once, Malleus's assumptions were right; you are exactly who he searched for all these years.

”Young prince,” you take his hands in yours, making his breath hitch, ”please, if you enjoy my result on your commission later, I am begging you to work with me on my next project about gargoyles. I feel like it will be my magnus opium. I—”

You continue to chatter actively, voice becoming higher with each sentence, but Malleus only can stare at you and at your linked arms. The tip of his ears are reddening. Is it even real?

Not only he will have new works from you, but also... He will be able to spend time with you?

Does you expect him to refuse?

”It will be a pleasure of mine,” he tells you, with a genuine adore in his eyes.

”My prince,” you squeak,” I already love you. Thank you, thank you!”

And at this point, others can't say for sure, who is whose fan here...

[wonryllis]

somewhere in northern italy | 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇.

synopsis. park sunghoon hates oranges, he always has. the tangy citrusy tingles he's so not fond of it. he also hates you, the living embodiment of an orange: cheery, full of life, and well, round. why should he be bothered by it though? all he has to do is work hard to get into his dream university. but the thing is, he really needs a specific recommendation letter for it. something which he can only get from your father. and hypothetically speaking, he can't just ask for it, so he does you 'a favor for a favor'; he fake dates you on your trip home for summer break and surprise surprise your family owns the biggest orange farm in the country.

or where, sunghoon falls for the one thing he has hated all his life.

word count. 1.6k (teaser) full fic: est 10k-15k? maybe more?

meet the cast. park sunghoon who has an obsession of taking photos with fem!reader who loves being photographed.

genre. fake dating AUUUU!!!! ANDDD enemies to lovers!!!(for hoon), frenemies to lovers(for you), fluff, crackkkk, nsfw, suggestive, sunghoon getting cockblocked all the damn time, set in lombardy, northern italy. popular x unpopular but it's mildly mentioned. sunghoon thinks you are a spoiled brat, a very very studious and upright sunghoon. oh and did you know? orange, orange and orange (sunghoons nightmare) rich girlie and old money reader, sunghoon is gobsmacked at reader's house, parents..(do i really need to add?) and the orange farm.

warnings. allusions as to reader being daddy's princess and being sheltered and hoon struggling every day with oranges and painting a good image of himself to get that letter. nsfw warnings will be added in the full fic. (also no it's not a chubby reader)

RELEASE DATE. TBD

written so far. 15%

author's note﹙ ⌕. ﹚ had this random ass idea while having orange juice yesterday ksjksj. taglist is open for this as well as the permanent one, just let me know and i'll add you asap! not sure if this' good enough kindly bear with me. PLS DONT LET THIS FLOP I REALLY LOVE THIS BABY ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

꒰⠀ N O W P L A Y I N G. ⠀꒱ cruel summer by taylor swift, one kiss by calvin harris & dua lipa, karma by taylor swift, me by taylor swift, call it what you want by taylor swift, blinding lights by the weekend, fireworks by katy perry

"you wanna go down to the lake?" sunghoon looks up to find you at the door, more like peeping in from outside. his hands stopping mid-air with his spongebob boxers in hand, in the middle of unpacking what was left of his luggage. he moves at the speed of light, shoving them back in before you can notice the print. but too late you already saw it well, "you wear spongebob?" your laugh tickles his insides and it feels weird how he seems to like it.

no, he did not want to go out right now. after that stressful breakfast in the garden he just wants to fall face first into your fluffy mattress and sleep it out under your silk comforter. but something about your laugh makes him intrigued, would going down to the lake with you show him more of this side of yours? now this would probably be the seventh time he has wondered of how prettily you laugh. the curve of your eyes and the faint dimples on your cheeks his favourite things. oh? he picked favourites already it's weird, he thinks.

"yeah, let's go. just lemme change my shirt real quick," disappearing into the bathroom before you have the chance to speak. though when he steps back into the room,"your taste is funny," his spongebob boxers hang at the tip of your index finger as you look closely at the design. "put that back!" he scolds, choking on his spit while he rushing over.

"why? don't tell me you haven't washed it? now that's really bad hoonie," the tone of your voice teases his nerves but honestly he's used to it, more precisely he doesn't hate it as much as he thought he did.

"y/n," he warns, albeit not seriously and you can see it.

"baby," in a sweet little smile, (one that has sunghoon's hate for you faltering in the slightest each time you put it on) you correct him,"remember?" my fake boyfriend, mouthing out through a sly grin.

it's like an immediate que for him to give it up, he's not gonna win against you. when he used to see you around the university, mingling amidst a crowd of people every single time, he always thought you'd hold nothing against him. in his eyes you were a hollow image, nothing worth it. perhaps he was wrong, for so far you have him tight in a grip, he can't seem to find something to properly hate. that is if he takes the oranges out the picture.

he sighs in resignation,"come on, let's go, baby." happy? his brows rising in a question, softening up at your smile getting wider with a swift nod.

he relaxed too soon.

"was this really necessary?" the palm of his hand slides around your wrist as you walk down the steps of your italian chateau. supporting your heel clad feet and gesturing at the big beige floppy beach hat sitting atop your head. "absolutely! it's my fa- dad!" sunghoon's head snaps at that, immediately turning to look at the pitch of your voice going higher. the real deal, your father still seated in the garden with a newspaper in his hands and dear lord, a glass of orange juice.

it's embarrassing to be seen with you like that, he was gonna say. but oh well, nevermind.

"i see you have your favorite hat on, going somewhere with sunghoon?" your dad asks smiling warmly at your pair. it makes sunghoon scared, aren't dads supposed to hate boyfriends? is he being bamboozled by your family? will he be preyed upon later when you are not there to see? as if it was possible, your entire family though really welcoming of him are a bunch of weirdos, who the fuck let's their precious daughter share her room with her boyfriend they've met for the first time?

when he agreed to fake date you he didn't know he'd have to put on such a detailed act. there's literally no restrictions for you in the house. you do whatever you want, when ever you want. and that includes taking him everywhere you go, because apparently your parents know him as the boyfriend who loves you so much that he can't let you be alone at any time. shouldn't that be a red flag though? he can't with this anymore, just over a day in and he's convinced he can't make it make sense anymore, it's a white towel, he can only go with the flow.

"yes he really wanted to go down to the lake," what me? when? sunghoon's eyes wander in a panic while you smile as if you weren't just lying through your teeth. smile sunghoon smile, just fucking smile, he reminds himself wondering if he should maybe say something, maybe not?,"didn't you, baby?" the little nudge of your elbow against him tells him that he should, oh god its difficult to learn when to do what.

"yeah the weather seems really good," he says, a slight tremor in his voice, internally facepalming himself. he has one job, and he's failing even that.

"hm, true," the acknowledgement from your father helps calm his nerves a bit but it runs on high again at his next words,"be back before lunch though, your brother and sister in law will be home soon. it's been so long since we last ate together," you have a brother? why wasn't he informed about this? is the universe playing a game with him? as if your parents weren't enough, now he has to impress more people. he can do this, for the sake of his recommendation letter he has to do it.

"yes dad! love you," sunghoon waits like a lone statue as you leave his side to press a kiss to your father's cheek. grabbing him by the arm and dragging him away the moment he opens his mouth to bid your father. at this rate you'll ruin it for him before he can ruin it himself. "slowdown, fluffy. i'll fall at this speed," he tries but it's to no avail, he should have known by now, no one can control you.

the walk down to the lake is quieter than he expected, no bickering or fighting. you show him around the small streets and shops on the way, telling him little stories back from your childhood. sometimes stopping at a spot,"so pretty, can you take a picture of me here?" and it's already the fourth time. he doesn't mind though, on the contrary he finds himself enjoying it. it's not everyday he gets to roam around the streets of italy with the perfect weather.

it doesn't take long for you both to reach the deck on the far left. following your lead, he sits down on the edge beside you, legs hanging low over the cold water and your shoes placed on one side. you sit close, arms brushing each other, little finger atop one another. your hair flowing with the wind swipes against his face when you turn the other way, a subtle hint of sweet (you guessed it) orange tingling his smell buds. instead of grimacing his life off, he leans closer for another whiff of it. "sunghoon!" retracting immediately when you turn back to him.

"hm?" a feeling so out of this world, a haze lost in his mind. your words sound blurry and your extravagant hat looks so pretty on you. he almost feels like he has to capture this. "i asked how you like it? weren't you listening? what're you thinking?" and he does, taking out his phone and clicking a candid. he can't believe he now has a photo of you in his gallery that he's taken on his own accord. he's been doing many weird things lately,"it's really pretty," so so many weird things.

"hey fluffy i've been wondering about something," he speaks again, looking away to try to ignore tiny little fluttering butterflies in his stomach.

"what is it?"

"haven't you ever dated before, why do your parents seem so excited to see you have a boyfriend?" there he asked it, the biggest mystery he can't stop thinking about from the moment he set foot in your palace of a house. if it's your first then maybe that would somewhat explain their behaviour, not that it would become normal altogether, just kind of justifiable that he won't be put on the rack. that he's truly welcomed and he's safe.

"not really, no one ever met my standards," your answer throws him off. what?

"does that mean i do?" he tests the water, cautious above all yet his tone still comes off as one of tease.

"yes, except one," he eyes turn to you at that, pupils dilated with curiosity for the one thing stopping him from the title of 'perfect for you' as your parents claimed. meeting his eyes in a lock of contact, you give him a small smile. hands moving over to his white button up, fingers tracing his collar and undone buttons watching his adam's apple bob in a hard gulp as his brown orbs follow your movements, sweat building up at the close proximity when you both lock eyes again,"you don't really like me," sunghoon immediately looks away, a stab of reality, he was actually anticipating something he could change. really park sunghoon? remember you don't like her?

"am i wrong?" you laugh leaning forward to have a look at his face.

"i never said that," sunghoon clears his throat, turning back, suddenly gaining a surge of confidence. park sunghoon what???

TAGLIST ( open. ) @s00buwu @luvyev @deobitifull @nottkwiwin @enhyven @crysieberry @eneiyri @sovlidago @fertiliezedtoesw @laylasmother @pockyyasii @ladyartemesia @kaispulshies @nctislifue @capri-cuntz @sweetjaemss @parksunghoonsgf @ariadores @asteria-wood @laurradoesloveu @en-dream @304files

[togrowoldinv]

Pour Me

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You meet an intriguing woman while you’re bartending

Note: This is a quick little fic about milf Wanda because I love her lol. Enjoy it!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You never expected to meet the love of your life this way. You never thought that the woman of your dreams would walk through the door as you poured drinks behind the bar.

But there she was. She had a quiet reserve about her. The friends that were with her were the ones who spoke to you first.

“This one here,” a redheaded woman said, “just got a divorce. We’re pouring them out for her.”

“Yeah, so pour them strong!” a blonde woman added.

“Can do, ladies,” you said.

You poured their drinks, and they tipped you. It pays when pretty girls come to the bar almost as much as it does when men do. But you much prefer when women come in. The other women walked away and left you alone with the woman at the bar.

“I’m sorry about your divorce,” you told her.

“It’s okay,” she said. You thought you picked up on a slight accent. It’s intriguing. “I’m better off.”

“I’m sure you are, ma’am. I didn’t get your drink order. What would you like?”

“Oh, um- what do you suggest?” She asked.

“I’ve got just the thing,” you said.

She watched as you got to work behind the bar fixing her a drink. It was what you always made when someone didn’t know what they wanted. Nothing special, but she sipped it like it was heaven in a glass.

When you asked her if she wanted another one, she said no. Her friends had convinced her to go out, and she didn’t really like to drink all that much.

“Your friends might end up shutting this place down,” you said to her.

The beautiful woman looked around and back at you. She smiled shyly.

“I’ll tell them we need to go,” she said, grabbing her purse.

“Oh, no you can stay,” you said. “I just need to start cleaning the bar up and I didn’t want you to wonder why.”

“Well, what if I help you?” She asked.

“I couldn’t allow you to help, ma’am. It’s my job,” you said.

“Oh, please it’s nothing. I’ve got two boys at home, so cleaning is my forte.”

“Come on over then,” you said, a smile on your face.

You walked to the open slot in the bar where you let the woman inside. She smiled as she took a rag and wiped the counter with you. She helped you clean for almost an hour before you asked her to help you restock the bar.

“It’s nice back here,” she said, admiring the office you built.

“I designed it myself,” you told her.

“I’m impressed.”

You picked up some crates filled with bottles and the woman watched the way your arms flexed under the weight of them. Really, she had been watching you all night.

“So, how old are your boys?” You asked her, trying to make small talk as she watched you move crates from the office to the bar.

“Ten,” she said. “They’re twins.”

“That’s so cool!” You said.

She grinned and showed you a few pictures of the boys. They looked like her and you couldn’t help but feel like you knew her already.

After you finished with the crates, you leaned against your desk. The woman looked at you intently.

“I should probably get back out there and close the bar,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Oh right,” she said.

You stood up and walked past the woman, but she grabbed your hand. You looked back at her and she looked like she could cry.

“Are you okay?” You asked her.

“Could you- would you- forget it,” she said, pulling her hand away.

“Hey, what is it?” You asked. You have gotten some odd requests working at a bar, but nothing this woman could say to you would be the craziest.

“Would you kiss me?” She asked.

“Oh, I don’t know if I should,” you said.

“Right. Of course. I’m sorry,” she tried to leave the room, but you grabbed her hand this time and pulled her back into your arms.

You looked into each other’s eyes before you leaned in and kissed the woman. The bar noise faded out and the only thing you could feel was her lips against yours. Her sweet, soft lips. You wondered how anyone could ever lose her, and when was the last time she was kissed like this. She was perfect.

The kiss ended when the woman’s friends knocked on the door to your office.

“I should drive them home,” the woman said.

“Ah, you’re right. It was nice to meet you,” you waited for her to fill in her name.

“Wanda,” the woman said. “I’m Wanda.”

“Y/n,” you supplied.

“Y/n,” she tried it out her tongue. Her friends called for her again. “Thank you for tonight. Really.”

“Sure,” you said. You opened the door for her, and her friends pulled her into their arms.  “Hey Wanda, come back sometime?”

“I will,” she promised, a glint in her eye.

And she did come back. She came back every weekend for three months before you asked her out.

And she stands across from you now three years later ready to become your wife. You thank goodness she walked into the bar that night.

[starsainzjr]

Muse

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fashion designer!reader Faceclaim: Rachel Zegler

A/N: Hi! This is my first SMAU so I really hope everyone likes it!! I hope to do more in the future!

✷✷✷✷✷

yourusername

Liked by the.peterdo, zendaya, lewishamilton, and 62,019 others

yourusername Back to the drawing board

View all 8,715 comments

ylnschooloffashion The master is back!!

zendaya Physically unable to contain my excitement

yourusername Studio is always open to you my darling!

l.h.eight This has to be the new designer Lewis was raving about in media the other day

formulafashion 👀 Do I smell a new designer coming to the paddock???

l.h.eight Girl we can hope!

lewishamilton

Liked by mercedesamgf1, yourusername, and 582,766 others

lewishamilton Always a fun time at New York Fashion Week 🔥 See you next year!

View all 2,718 comments

l.h.eight For the record, I called it

formulafashion I'm so happy Lewis is looking at a new designer! Yn's work is always stunning

georgerussell63 We're all gonna look like garden trolls next to him now

alex_albon Now? He already makes you look like a garden troll

georgerussell63 Hey!

yourusername My favorite guest of the day! Thank you for coming! Liked by lewishamilton

l.h.eight 👀 Y'all are seeing what I'm seeing right?

lewishamilton

Liked by mercedesamgf1, f1, yourusername, and 606,826 others

lewishamilton P2 in Bahrain, great start to the season. See everyone in Jeddah 👊🏾

View all 9,186 comments

georgerussell63 Helluva start! Let's keep this party going

formulafashion Okay but this is easily the best he has ever looked in the paddock 🥵

l.h.eight How much longer until we see Yn in the paddock???

queenyln Okay yeah, Lewis is definitely my second favorite of Yn's real life models

formulafashion Second?????

queenyln Zendaya.

formulafashion Oh, yeah, no, that's fair

yourusername

Liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, zendaya, and 87,017 others

yourusername Bit of a new look

View all 2,097 comments

lewishamilton Only fair after NYFW! Can't wait to host you again

mercedesamgf1 Easily the most fashionable person we've had in the garage

l.h.eight NOT LEWIS IN THE BACKGROUND YN TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW

queenyln It's been so long since I've seen her this happy 😭

formulafashion Lewis too! He was practically glowing this week

queenyln I sense a power couple forming

l.h.eight Yn would fr be the queen of the paddock

yourusername

Liked by zendaya, lewishamilton, and 76,925 others

yourusername Just getting some inspiration

View all 10,719 comments

zendaya Girl if you don't call me right now I'm getting on a plane

yourusername This is an extremely real threat

queenyln SOMEBODY SEDATE ME

queenyln OUR GIRL GETTING TREATED LIKE THE ROYALTY SHE IS

l.h.eight TRIED SO HARD WITH THE SOFT LAUNCH AS IF WE CAN'T IDENTIFY LEWIS' HANDS ANYWHERE

formulafashion This is a dream. This is a dream right? I'm dreaming right now

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, mercedesamgf1, and 491,729 others

lewishamilton First time for everything. Dallas Fashion Week you've been a treat!

View all 1,618 comments

formulafashion You know who else is in Dallas for this same exact event?

queenyln Perhaps a designer we're familiar with?

formulafashion Ding ding ding! We have a winner

formulafashion The woman in the dress looks awfully familiar, Mr. Hamilton

l.h.eight No but the fact that he went from Japan to Dallas for this. AND THAT HE HAS TO GO BACK TO SHANGHAI

formulafashion Our boy is in l o v e

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1, zendaya, and 79,169 others

yourusername Shanghai you've been a treat

View all 3,816 comments

lewishamilton 🥇✨

yourusername 🤩

l.h.eight They're speaking in emojis now

formulafashion They're not as slick as they think they are

queenyln Yn's never been slick

queenyln Girl we already know just post the Lewis content we all want

formulafashion This. I know she has so much

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, zendaya, mercedesamgf1 and 100,028 others

yourusername Studio has gotten a little warmer as of late

View all 7,291 comments

lewishamilton I'll be your muse any day 😘

yourusername My best muse yet 🥰

zendaya Damn, someone stole my girl

queenyln Someone stole OUR girl 😭

l.h.eight The longest four months of my LIFE

queenyln This is actually the best day ever. Nothing will top this

formulafashion Lewis is about to look the best he ever has

queenyln I think that's called the girlfriend effect

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All photos from Pinterest, Instagram, or Google Images

[sonicslushie]

Slipped My Mind ~ P.P.

Summary: You’re the person who designs Spiderman’s suits, but you never actually met the man- or boy- behind the mask. 

A/N: terrible summary & first fic, originally this was going to be based on the conan gray song “yours” but it took an odd turn in there so it's not lmao. But if you wanna read that let me know i’m dying to write more for petey boy. This is also like a little fluff thing that i threw together in a few hours so it’s not the best (my b) 

a playlist for u to listen to as u read<3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark Intern!Reader 

TW: kinda a clueless reader, mentions of blood and open wounds, 

Wordcount: 3.6k

Ice cream was all you wanted. It was your lunch break from Stark Industries, the place you interned at because of your impressive resume, and partly because your dad just so happened to be the owner of Tony Stark’s favorite burger place. You had been a pretty smart kid, finished highschool early and graduated MIT with a degree in engineering and all you wanted was to build supersuits. That was the dream, wasn’t it? Helping the world’s mightiest heroes by being the one who created their high tech suits and accessories, actually making a difference for those who saved billions of lives? Yeah, no. 

You started out three years ago as Ms. Potts' personal assistant at the ripe age of 16. You spent 2.5 years of that assisting just doing the basic intern stuff; grabbing coffee and burgers, attending meetings to take notes, scheduling and yatta yatta, the occasional fake laugh at a dad joke that Mr. Stark made. It wasn’t until you joined Ms. Potts in Mr. Stark’s lab to give him his burger, and you corrected his formulas on some project and you thought it was OVER. He looked surprised that you even spoke to him, oh fuck, you messed up. Or so you had thought. He actually told you that you were right?? Then, I swear to god, he asked what you would do to improve the project he was working on. (It was a super suit for the newest hero, Spiderman.) He liked your idea to add what you called the “training wheels” protocol. Mr. Stark decided to give you a chance and he had you help him create the rest of the suit, and now 6 months later, you were in charge of all things Spiderman. 

But that’s not the point of the story right now, right now, you wanted ice cream. 

And you had just bought two big scoops in a freshly made waffle cone. Honestly the best use of 5 bucks, or so you thought. Just as you were about to take the first lick, a red and blue streak sprinted past- no into you. It was like a movie, all you saw was your delicious creamy dessert flying up in the air in slow motion, then- SLAT! Both you and the ice cream were on the ground, a familiar looking super suit standing above you, stammering about how he was “so sorry” and “chasing a bad guy” in a very peppy voice. 

“You’re Spiderman, why weren’t you swinging from building to building?” You asked, furious you were now going to have to buy another one. You just wanted one thing, could you not just have it without dealing with this bozo? 

“Forgot to put in new web fluid. I’m sorry about your ice cream but I’ve really gotta- I don’t see him anymore. Shoot.” He says, shaking his head. “You know what, let me make this up to you. I’ll buy you another one.” 

Well that seemed fair and it slightly cooled off your now bad mood. You agree and wait in line with the dude who you create super suits for. The funny thing is, this was actually the first time you ever met the one and only Spiderman- or Spiderling as Mr. Stark calls him. You don’t even know who the person is under the mask, but at this point you really didn’t care about it, you just wanted your ice cream. 

After waiting in line for what felt like forever and making meaningless small talk with the masked hero, you make it to the front of the line. 

“Two scoops of strawberry, please. Waffle cone.” You smile at the worker, then turn to Spiderboy. You say at the same time as the employee, “5 bucks.” 

The Spiderdude pats his sides as if feeling for a wallet, then looks at you with that expressionless mask- god you had to work on that- and says, “I don't have my wallet.” 

You could almost smack him in the back of the head, but you just take your wallet out and give the worker a 5 dollar bill. Taking the new ice cream, you turn to the hero, “Well now you owe me two, Spidey.” 

“I-I’ll make it up to you, do you have Venmo?” He asks, panic rising in his voice. He sounded young, maybe around your age. If you were honest, he piqued your interest. So instead of rolling your eyes and walking away, you pulled your phone out. 

“Here,” you say, ready to just get back to the lab. He takes a picture of it and gives you a thumbs up. 

“I’ll have to make a new venmo so you can’t figure out my identity, but I gotta run.” He says, and literally runs off. You stand there, looking at the hero you basically manage but just met, then your ice cream. What a day, huh? You shrug it off and begin to eat your ice cream as you head back to the office. 

The ice cream had been off your mind ever since you finished the yummy dessert, and went back to designing your own web fluid. Sure the dude had his own way of making it (you weren’t really sure if it had been coming out of him or not until today, you never really had the chance to ask anyone), but you knew you could do it better. Everyone at Stark Industries called you ‘Junior’ for a reason, and it wasn’t just because of your crazy intelligence. It might have also been the slight egotistical self assurance and the stubbornness you possessed. 

As you worked you listened to music and snacked on the various foods you hid in the lab unbeknownst to Mr. Stark. Here and there you would test the web fluid with some of the new web shooter prototypes you had made, at this point you could swing around New York from how often you used these things. You often thought of it and giggled at the thought; ridiculous, these silly little dreams you possessed. 

You had been giggling about it to yourself when the one and only Mr. Stark walked in- with a kid who was talking so fast and in such a familiar peppy tone that you couldn’t help but look up. 

“-and then I looked up dodo birds and did you know they’re basically just big pigeons?” He finished, looking up at Mr. Stark with big brown doe eyes that sparkled in the light. Sparkle in the light? Oh come on, y/n. You caught yourself ogling at the new kid, still trying to figure out where you heard that voice before. Little miss genius might be able to create the highest tech super suits in the world, but boy oh boy did you have a hard time connecting dots. 

“Right, big pigeons. Anyway, Peter, this is y/n y/l/n. Junior, this is Peter Parker.” Mr. Stark says, looking at you as if you could take the excitable kid off of his hands. 

Now, Mr. Stark is a lot of things, and busy is one of them. This just so happens to affect his memory, and in this case, he completely forgot that he never introduced Spiderling- Peter Parker- to his favorite intern. It slipped his mind, I mean when you’re a billionaire CEO and a superhero, the little things tend to slip the mind. It’s not like he meant to never introduce you two, he really did mean to. But every time Peter’s been at the tower, Junior was always gone either for the weekend or for her lunch break. Plus, Mr. Stark had things to do. Like right now; get out of this boring conversation and get burgers from his favorite burger place with Happy. 

“Oh it’s nice to meet you, Peter.” You say, not knowing that you met Peter earlier that day as Spiderman. But Peter knew, and he also forgot that he had to venmo you for that ice cream from earlier. Caught off guard, his eyes just go wide and he awkwardly smiles and waves at you like an idiot. 

“Um okay. Anyway, Mr. Stark, I was about to head out, but I got the new web fluid made and finished up the new prototypes for web shooters. I also started up blueprints for a new suit. I forgot to mention I saw Spiderboy today and I gotta say, that suit does nothing for his ass.” You say, going back to the blueprints in front of you, making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow morning. Mr. Stark takes a peek over your shoulder, nodding in approval, then says, “Well I’ve got to hit the road, I’ve got… an important meeting to attend. Yeah. See ya tomorrow, Junior, same to you Pete.” 

You and Peter tell Mr. Stark bye in various fashions, being left in an awkward silence, neither of you really knowing how to proceed from there. Mr. Stark never told you that you would be meeting with Spiderdude to discuss your progress on the new ideas you had come up with but if he didn't show up before 5 you weren't staying, you'd didn't get paid enough. Peter wasn’t told he would be seeing the girl he literally ran into and owe her ice cream money. Seems like it just slipped Mr. Stark’s mind again. 

“So um, whatcha doing here Peter?” You say, begin to clean up your workstation to go home. Peter was just standing awkwardly behind you, trying to figure out what to say. He was also unaware that you didn’t know that he was Spiderman, he had figured Mr. Stark would have told you if you were the one working on his suits all this time. 

“Oh I was um- just leaving actually. Looks like you’re ready to go home, so I- Yeah I’m just gonna go.” He says quickly, turning on his heel to leave. At this point you were just ready to go home, so you shrug it off and say, “Nice meeting you, Peter. See ya.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves. If he was being honest, he’s never been good at talking to pretty girls. Not to mention super awesome pretty intern girls who have been providing him his super awesome super suit. Probably too many “supers” but he didn’t care, he could barely even function in the same room as you. Not to mention he made a fool of himself earlier, but honestly you didn’t even seem to remember, which threw him off even more. And when you said “nice to meet you” it confused him, you two had met earlier that day. God, he had to get some fresh air. 

Peter made it outside and was cooling down from that super awkward and weird encounter, when he saw you pulling out of the car park in your car, singing along loudly to some Miley Cyrus song. He turns away, trying not to make it obvious that he was avoiding you. But you turned your head as you were looking for oncoming traffic, and you saw him. 

You don’t know why you did it, but you rolled your window down and yelled above the loud ass music, “Hey Peter! You waiting on a ride?” 

He was too caught off guard to lie, and to be fair he didn’t even like lying, so he shook his head and before he knew it, he was getting in your car. 

“Where are you heading?” You asked, turning the music down. He tries not to be as awkward as before as he says, “Queens, but it’s a far drive you really don’t have to-” 

“Oh I live there too! Don’t even worry about it,” you say, happy you could do something for the odd kid. He was a bit awkward, but in a cute sort of way. It almost made your stomach get butterflies at the thought of you of all people making him nervous. 

“Oh okay, thanks so much. I really appreciate it,” he says, then after a beat of intense silence with Miley wailing in the background, he decides to try and make conversation. “So how long have you been working for Mr. Stark?” 

“Since I was 16, so like 3 years. Most of it was being Ms. Potts’ assistant though,” you say, tapping your fingers to the beat. 

“Woah, wait so did you like graduate early?” He asks, now immensely intrigued. You give him the rundown of the past 6 years of your life, to which he’s very impressed and totally not thinking about how pretty you look in the dying sunlight. Totally would never do that. 

“But yeah, that’s me. What about you, how did you get involved with Mr. Stark?” You ask, glancing over at him slightly. You must say for a dork, he had some very nice features. 

“Very long story that includes him hitting on my aunt. Ugh,” he shivers at the memory, “And a trip to Germany.” 

That rings some bells in your head, but to be fair Mr. Stark is in Germany a lot so you don’t really question it. Like I said, you don’t connect dots very well unless it’s in the form of equations. 

You guys talk all the way to Peter’s apartment, you even give him your phone number if he ever needs a ride to the office. As Peter walks off, you both can’t help but wonder how weird the day has been. But as you drive off and turn up the radio, you put it out of your mind. Time to go home and relax. 

Only when you got home, you didn’t relax. Almost as soon as you step into your apartment, your phone lets out a little “cha-ching” noise, notifying you that someone just venmoed you. You completely forgot about Spidey owing you for your ice cream until you saw the little notification: Spidey paid you $10 with an ice cream emoji underneath. You smirk, then go back to fully entering your apartment. Only to hear your phone go off a few seconds later, another venmo notification, this time a comment left under the money he just paid you. 

I feel really bad about earlier. I figured I’d pay for both. 

You raise an eyebrow at your phone, smiling a little to yourself. He seems sweet. Sweeter than most guys you’ve run into in the middle of New York. And trust me, it’s happened more often than you’d like to admit. 

You type back. 

I really appreciate that Spiderdude. Love the profile pic;)

His profile picture was that one Spiderman meme with the three Spidermans pointing at each other. It made you giggle, at least he had a sense of humor. Most superheroes (*cough* Steve Rogers *cough*) didn’t. A few seconds later he sends another message. 

Next time I’ll get you three scoops:)

You smiled and decided that was a pretty good deal, three free ice creams? Sounds like a scam but you weren’t going to question it. You just put your phone down and decided it was time to have a nice warm bath and rock out to Taylor Swift. 

It was a while before you heard from both Peter or Spiderman, and you were still clueless to the fact that they were the same person. After a few weeks of that whole situation being off your mind, you were going into work on a late night call from Mr. Stark said that something urgent came up with the Spiderling and he wasn’t in town to take care of it. So, you jumped out of bed and rushed out still in your pajamas to the Stark Tower. 

You sped all the way there, the stars oddly bright for the city. You made note to go to the rooftop of your apartment whenever you were able to make it back. You always had a thing for the stars, having not grown up in New York. The city was beautiful, but you could truly say that you hated the nights there. No stars glittering overhead, cars and people being loud at all hours of the night. The only good thing you could say about the night in New York was all the food places that were open 24/7. (You tend to have a craving for Thai food at odd hours of the night.) 

Upon arriving at the Stark Tower, you ask F.R.I.D.A.Y what’s going on, and she directs you to your lab. You make your way up there, wondering what in the world this kid could be needing that’s so urgent. If it’s something stupid, dear god, help him. You would molly whop him into the next dimension. 

The lab doors upon a very beat up Spiderboy, who’s laid across your desk. Laying in a pile of blood. Okay, good enough reason, you supposed, immediately dropping all idea’s of punching the poor kid in the head. 

You rush up to him, taking in his half dead state of being. A giant would- no a hole would be a better way of putting it. Just a big hole in his side, with a lot of blood seeping out of it. You poke him, making sure he’s still breathing. He groans in response, it’s enough to get you moving. You had planned on this a long time ago, you created a device to regrow skin just for this occasion. You found it and within seconds, his wound began healing, though it might take a while for him to create enough blood to be able to even be able to sit up again. At that thought, you ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get the building’s onsite medical team to get the kid. 

Once you were finished fixing his gaping hole, you poked him again, praying he was still alive. There was so much blood everywhere, but you tried to keep your Thai food down as you begged for him to wake up. 

“Come on kid, you can’t die on me. Mr. Stark would kill us both,” you say, starting to shake him now. You could see his chest moving up and down slightly, but he wasn’t waking up. You pleaded in your head for the med team to get there quickly, you didn’t know why you were so upset by this. Sure, it would be sad if the kid died, but you didn’t know him like that. You didn’t know him well enough to be crying over his dying body, begging him to just open his eyes or say something. Not that you could see them through the mask-

The mask. 

Your trembling hand goes to take it off, but the medical team rushes in just as you begin peeling it off, only exposing his neck. 

You step back as the med team begins working on him, you let them know that you healed him, but he needed blood. That was all you could say before they moved him onto the gurney and began taking him away, you called after, “Just wake up, Spidey, please!” 

That was the first thing that Peter remembers hearing, your voice. Lights were flashing overhead as he heard people saying things above him, though he couldn’t comprehend any of it. God, he was so dizzy. And why wasn’t his side hurting anymore? He started grabbing for his side, but the people around him stopped him from doing so. What was going on?

“You were bleeding out,” one of them says from above him, he’s starting to hear them more clearly now. Maybe his superhealing had finally set in. “No, Ms. y/l/n just saved your life. Now calm down, you’re going to be okay.” 

Peter didn’t realize he was just speaking his thoughts as they came to him, he also didn’t realize that you had decided to follow the medical team just to make sure he ended up okay. It’s not that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to be sure. So much for looking at the stars, huh? 

Peter kept babbling as the medical team got him to their facility a few floors down, starting to connect tubes to give him more blood. One of them goes to take his mask off to check for any head wounds, but he stops them. He’s conscious enough to know that he knows none of these people, and none of these people need to know that he’s Peter Parker. 

“You’re Peter Parker?” You say, total confusion in your voice. Damn it, did he say that out loud? “Yes, you did, you idiot.” 

You get as close as you can without getting in the way of the people trying to help him. Once they were all done and he was getting the blood that he needed, you asked them to leave so you could talk to Peter. How did you not realize? He has a very distinctive voice, and obviously that’s why Mr. Stark brought him into your lab a few weeks ago. Seriously, not your best moment. 

“So you’re the infamous Spiderman?” You say, sitting on the edge of his cot. He peels his mask off and takes a breath of fresh air. 

“Wait,” it hits him that you didn’t know, what is going on? “You didn’t know?” 

“Nope,” you laugh, “I’m not really sure how I didn’t, especially after Mr. Stark brought you in there. I’m also not sure how he never mentioned that you were there person I’ve been making all this superhero stuff for. Must have slipped his mind.” Understatement of the century. 

“I thought you knew, that’s why I never really mentioned it. Also,” he smiles a little to himself, “I promised to get you ice cream next time I saw you. How about it?” 

You raise your eyebrow at him, “You’re in a cot getting blood poured into you.” 

“When I’m better?” 

“Sounds like a date.”

[brailsthesmolgurl]

WARDROBE MALFUNCTION!

A smol bird requested for this to be written and so here I am, playing fairy godmother! If any of you have any sort of requests, just drop me a dm as I am revived from my death and ready to write more delulus as your solulus!

Context: What happens when your outfit decides NOT to cooperate with you? What will the boys do for you?

Disclaimer: This one-shot is created with me studying their lore on various websites and social media so that I could get a better idea on what colours they like/represent and what style they lean towards. Some of you may disagree but its okay! You can read it as it is and add in your own imagery of a suitable outfit by your hubbies! Warnings: Fluff that might rot your brains.

RAFAYEL

"I am almost done with this piece," Rafayel spoke, eyes still glued to his canvas, one hand holding up his messily stained colour palette, while the other held the brush as he drew strokes across the canvas. "Why don't you go and get changed as you wait for me to finish off this bit, yeah?"

"Yes sir." You quirkily replied and you stood up, spotting him sending you a teasing look given the way you addressed him. Earlier on, some strangers had came by Rafayel's mansion with Thomas to deliver some clothes. Apparently, these clothes are custom made by those luxurious brands specifically for Rafayel. Thomas addressed it as this was one of the ways the luxury brands show their support towards Rafayel's works. ONE OF THE WAYS... At this point, you are convinced that Rafayel is a huge deal and having luxurious brands begging on their knees to work with him sounded like a dream that would never come true to you.

The dress that sat on the bed was delivered for you as well, as per Rafayel's request. There was objection amongst the team that were handling the sponsorship and ambassador deals for the brand. But Rafayel spoke through the phone like he owns the company. "If she does not get a gown, then our business ends. Right now." He hung up abruptly, and the next thing he knew, the dress showed up at his door in less than 30 minutes.

Any brands, regardless luxurious or not, knows the right way and only way to please Rafayel. One wrong move and you are off the chart and some other brand may easily replace you. Hence, nobody dares to mess with Rafayel. Except for you. "The dress on the bed is yours!" He shouted from the living room and you picked up the dress.

The chiffon textured dress is of a forest green colour, going all the way down to your ankles. The strapless design made you gulped as you are not used to outfits of this measure, given the nature of your work, whereas your attire has to be 'appropriate for work in times of need'. Touching the inner material, you sighed in relief as you realised that there was bra padding for you hence you do not have to go all the way out to get a new bra just for this event.

Putting on the dress and zipping it up was easy, and you fit almost perfectly into the dress. The keyword being ALMOST. As you lifted your hands up, the dress started sliding down like it is a floatie on a wet water slide and woop, off it went and onto the ground. You panicked, bending down in one fell swoop and trying to gather the dress so that you can pull it up to your chest again.

But it does not let you go past the waist area unless you unzip it. Groaning, you struggled to find the zip as the dress is really puffy and you did not want to ruin the designer dress. "Is everything okay?" Rafayel stood at the doorway, leaning against the side of his door, as he watched you with amusement written all over his face. He has been standing there for quite a while hasn't he?

You gasped, pulling whatever that is on the floor to cover your chest area and he walked over, analysing the dress and scowling when he found out the reason. "I should have gotten them to measure you instead of just bringing you a standard fit." He took his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen a couple of times. His eyes looked back at you and you bit your lip in embarassment. "Your curves are way too beautiful to be hidden amongst this pile of leaves."

His comment made you giggled. Guess he has the same thought as you. "Toss the dress aside darling, I will get you a new one." Another few taps of the finger, he shows you the dress he has in mind. A purple dress with extravagant sleeves, puffing out like how a jellyfish would and you instantaneously knew why he opted for this dress. "I like purple better anyways."

"But wait Rafayel... this dress is not entirely scrap, maybe I can sew a temporary knot on it to tighten the top so it won't fall off. And there is really no need for you to get another custom one for me as we are running out of time." Your suggestion made him stare at you, purple-blue pupils blown wide as if he has really just witnessed a shark eating grass. iykyk.

He walked over and grabbed you by your waist and pulled you close to him, so close that you could hear the sound of his heart against yours. But at this moment, maybe he could hear yours louder than his. "Nobody can put a price on your love for me. EVER. But, I can sure as hell throw out any price on anyone, regardless the amount, as a representation of how much you worth to me." You looked away immediately, eyes stared at the arms that were holding you in place. He kissed your forehead, chuckling, before he pressed his phone against his ear. "Now, let's see who can make this dress for the price I am willing to pay in 30 minutes time." he makes me feel something

ZAYNE

You waited on a bench in front of Akso Hospital. You figured it would be a great idea to wait for Zayne as he finishes work early today and you might be able to grab dinner with him. You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, looking through your daily for-you-page before a shadow loomed over you. You looked up and no doubt, it is Zayne aka the great and almightly Elsa.

"How long have you been sitting here?" He asked you, before handing you a candy that he had fished out from the pocket of his trench coat. "I was planning to meet you slightly later at your condo." The thought of him initially wanting to surprise you made your heart fluttered. You see, Zayne is a more upfront guy so having him to plan surprises are one of the uncalled scenarios.

"I had only been here for a couple of minutes." You lied, taking the candy out of his palm and unwrapped it before you tossed it into your mouth. The raise of his eyebrow towards you made your breath hitched as he knew you too well that you could not lie to him in his face. "Fine, I had waited here since 5pm." This made Zayne looked down at his wrist watch.

"So it's been an hour and 15 minutes?" He side eyed you and you admitted it by nodding your head. "Next time, it would be better if you were to just wait for me at home. If it wasn't for a full deck today at the hospital, I might just be covering shifts for other people and that might be inconvenient for you." But, he himself actually noticed you exactly an hour and 15 minutes, from his office's window, before his upcoming surgery. He had another three surgeries lined up for the night, but fearing that you may end up waiting the whole night for him, he decided to cancel his schedule for the night and transfer the case to other doctors. Even workaholics take a break. iykyk

"But I just wanted to come over to check up on you. I even chose to sit outside so that you would not be distracted as you are working." You pouted, hands picking at the hem of your shirt. You felt Zayne's hand landed on the top of your head, a gesture of love and comfort. He patted and smoothed your brunette strands back and you stared up at him. "I shall wait for you at home next time okay?"

"Now that's a good girl." killmeplease Zayne smiled warmly. "Now, lets get you back alright? My car is parked right by the road side. Come on." Hands around your waist, he slowly walked you over to his car. The smell of his cologne lingered on your nose, the smell of mint and dashes of cinnamon. Just like his personality, icy as mint but warm and welcoming as cinnamon once you get to know him.

He opened the car door for you and as you walked over to get into the car, your shirt got hooked against one of the metal wires that went astray from the metal fencing and the next thing you heard was the sound of a ripping cloth. You yelped as you stumbled and Zayne slotted himself right in front of you, shocked as well and using his body to block you from falling further. "Oh my..." Your cursed under your breath as your hands were against his washboard abs, steadying yourself. doublekill

He guided you into the car slowly before getting into the driver side himself. When he had started the car and turned on the air conditioning, he turned to look at you. "How bad is the rip?" He asked and you lifted the hem of your shirt, showing the rip that is around 4cm long.

"Why does this have to happen to one of my favourite shirt?" You frowned, fingers won't stop touching and fidgeting with the ripped edge.

"Do they still sell this shirt?" Zayne asked, hands reaching over to tug against the shirt, as if to examine the material of the outfit. The shake of your head made him sigh and he gestured to the glovebox. "Open the glovebox and take out the black pouch please."

You did as you were told and you watched in confusion as he took off his trench coat and placed it onto your lap. The coat still radiating warmth that was collected off of his body heat. He opened the black pouch and laid it flat on the arm rest of his car, and inside of the pouch was an array of threads and needles. "Are these suture needles?"

"Yes." His response was prompt. "Take off your shirt and hand it to me please." He requested and you gulped. Using the trench coat to block his view, you slowly took off your shirt and then wrapped his trench coat around your whole front. You knew that he had probably seen many naked bodies given his line of work but something about this scenario, with you being with him only in a car, felt very intimate and it made you very anxious. "You know how to sew?"

"I am a doctor, I know how to suture. And it is the same concept as sewing, but only with different kinds of needles and threads." He then started sewing, his concentration a trait you find admirable. It did not took him long when he finished sewing your shirt and he handed it back to you, the thread sewed on has gaps of equal length and was tied off neatly. As expected of one of the top doctors from Akso Hospital. As he started driving, he added. "Although I had managed to sew the shirt for you, I believe with my connections, I would be just as capable to find you the same shirt. Then, you would never have to complain about this being your only favourite shirt."

XAVIER

You were going about your day in your own house before you heard your doorbell ringing. You placed your bowl of cereal down and took a glance on the clock on your phone. Who dares to threaten your peaceful weekend? You went over to the door and you opened it to reveal your blond hair lover. "Xavier?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed when he smiled at you.

"Good morning, I see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." He teased and stepped in, holding out a parcel for your. "I believe this belongs to you?" The small rip at the top side of your parcel indicated that he probably took a peek on what's inside. Acknowledging the parcel, you took it off of his hands and you blushed, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear.

"Good morning to you too. I guess I might have accidentally wrote your level instead of mine." You bit your bottom lip and you heard him chuckle in return. "But thanks for coming down to deliver this to me when you could have just asked me to get it from you." "But I wanted to see you personally. And seeing the clothes that are in the parcel, I thought I could get to watch you try them on too." His blunt answer made you stare at him like a mad man. His blue eyes however, glinted with nothing but honesty. This guy may be mysterious but he sure is straightforward in stating what he has on his mind. He probably noticed the way you reacted and he took a step back, retracing his words and slightly coughing to ease the awkwardness. "I mean, I would like to see you trying out these new outfits that you had gotten for yourself. It would be a good past time for me."

You chuckled at how goofy this guy is and gestured towards him to go and sit at the couch. You went into the room to get yourself changed and it was as if today is your fashion show day. You strutted out in different outfits, layered against one another and watched the way Xavier would react to you, either fascinated, or straight down confused. There was even this one time, he would just have a blank expression where you wore an oversized shirt under your tshirt. Clothing trends on the streets nowadays baffles him and he wondered if he was the one that was left out from the fashion ring.

Your last outfit featured you in a semi see through tank top and a pair of cargo pants. Not to mention, the tank top seemed to be too small for you as the way the blond boy sees it, it was holding onto your figure for dear life and barely leaving anything more to one's imagination. And the thought itself ticked him off. When you looked over towards Xavier, he does not look surprised nor confused, but rather bland. "What do you think?" Your tone came off to be amused and you did a twirl in front of him before you took a seat right next to him.

Xavier anxiously gulped and looked away from you, his voice low as he muttered. "I don't think this outfit looks nice on you, girlfriend." The way he shifted in his seat made you cornered him against the couch even more, wanting a better explanation. "The top you are wearing. I don't like it."

"And why so?" You asked, looking down at your top and adjusting it. "This is the trend nowadays, they call it the Y2K trend I think. And this tank top was on sale, so I just got it."

"I can buy you some other clothes. Even the ones that are not going to be on sale." He retorted, eyeing the tank top you were wearing with an underlying anger. "I just don't think I would like to see you wearing this in public. It is too revealing, and I guess tight on your body."

His answer painted your cheeks red and you gasped. What were you thinking? Of course you had forgotten about his possesive nature. He does not show it much and having such a pretty boy face like him further disconnects the word 'possessive' from his character. He reached into his hoodie's front pocket and pulled out his phone, opening up an app and handed the phone to you. When you refused to take it, he lifted his torso off of the couch to 'force' you to take his phone. Just like how you had previously pressed your body against him, this is his turn to take his small and sweet revenge. You panicked as he closed the gap between you two and within the next minute, he was pressed against you, one of his hand at the side of your head and another still holding his phone up to you, his gaze intense. "Just choose whatever you want from my phone, my card information is all in there. And perhaps before you check out, you can let me double check on the outfits you are getting." He low-key demanded before he explained himself for such a decision. "I just don't like nor want people staring wrongfully at what I treasure the most."

Another fluff for another day. I already did my best in having to think of different wardrobe malfunctions as I did not want one theme of wardrobe malfunction to be stagnant across the whole story for all three of the boys. SO I hope you would understand my lovelies. :,) I am very very free so I will be posting more regularly for these few weeks. SO please do show me more love and support as that would aid me in my motivation in writing!

Do check out my other works as well!

HOW WOULD THE BOYS REACT TO YOU FORGETTING ABOUT YOUR DATE?

DAMNATION

Hope your Delulu is satisfied my lovelies <3

[baldval]

Hiii! How are ya? can I request Valentino x reader who works for vox? But not only do they work for him they have created a anime and game for it under him? So like they’re a well known manga artist type ting? So yeah they’re not a nobody basically

if not that’s fine! Have a good day/night dear :)

ART DECO PART 1!₊˚⊹♡

characters: valentino x gn!reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: curse words, mentions of sex, making out, suggestive content.

a/n: i might do a part 2 if you guys like this!!

series masterlist!

You're bored.

To the exterior eye, working for THE Vox may be a dream. Cash, cars, designer clothes, big fancy functions filled with important hell-people and overlords. It sounds perfect.

It isn't. Between stupid rivalries, betrayals, and VERY dramatic bosses, being one of the top content producers for Vox is smothering work. But you'd rather have that than being nothing. At the very least, being so close to the Vees grants you protection.

This evening, you discover yourself at yet another 'emergency' call from Vox. Something something about losing views and how this most be the radio demon's fault. It's the 4th time this week.

You arrived at Vox's place, yet you can't really see him anywhere.

"Umm... Velvette" the girl looks up at you from the couch, unbothered.

"Watcha need sweetheart?" she moves her eyes back to her phone.

"Do you know where Vox is? He kinda called me on emergency basis? I'm not really sure what he need though."

"I have no idea where that shithead's been. He didn't even go to the last meeting with the overlords." She rolls her eyes. "He had to send me."

"Oh alright so no idea." You feel frustrated.

"You could of course ask Val"

"Did anyone say my name?" You smell him before he enters your eyeline. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood. He smells expensive. Not the faux, gawdy expensive like most men within Vox's circle, but truly extravagant.

"So dramatic." Velvette mumbles, eyes still on the screen.

You feel him before you turn around. He’s warm, and broad, and the crisp white material of his dress shirt is pressing into you. You gasp quietly at his boldness, praying that Velvette doesn't notice how close you are to him.

Valentino.

Vox's second in charge. Both an overlord and the owner of the largest movie studio. One of the greatest assholes in Hell.

The man you’re hopelessly in love with.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You truly hadn't meant for this to get this far.

Initially, it was sex. Brilliant, mid blowing, earth shattering sex.

Until it wasn't.

Now, it's late night phone calls and clandestine meetings and holding hands and apartment hunting and kisses on the forehead.

Now, it's genuine.

Vox would murder you if he found out.

You'd be shunned. Everything you'd worked for. Everything you'd created. Suddenly you don't exist. It's all Vox's.

If there was one thing you liked about your deal with Vox was the fact that he allowed your things to be yours.

People knew what you had created and they knew it was created by you.

You didn't want to lose that.

Essentially, it'd be worse than hell, which you're already in. So why do you keep finding yourself considering it?

You’ve never been loved like this. So total, so complete, so all consuming. So unconditional.

And it's true that Valentino has nothing to lose. If Vox finds out, he won't be affected at all.

But he keeps it a secret.

And you're pretty sure you know why.

You wake up to kiss him all over his face. You dance within the kitchen, as he spins you around in your socks. You see how he stares at you when in a meeting, analysing your face.

You ran into love headfirst, impulsively. Would you have slept with Valentino that night, well over a year ago, if you'd have known this is how it'd turn out? You're not sure. But all you know is that, right now, the risk is more than worth it.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"You with me, sweetheart?" he mumbles into your ear, warm breath raising the hairs on your neck.

"Yeah, Val," you murmur back, trying to keep a neutral expression on your face. "I'm here."

"Where did you go, huh?"

His fingers travel down your neck, drawing little figures on your back.

"Just daydreaming," you answer.

"About what?" he asks teasingly, caressing your skin in delicate movements. Back, forth. Back, forth. He's making it difficult to concentrate.

“You,” you whisper discreetly. He you loud and clear. “Always you.”

He needs to kiss you. God, he needs to kiss you. He needs to grab your face and smash his lips to yours, consequences be damned. He wants to pick you up and twirl you around and scream "look at the woman I love!"

Instead, his fingers tighten around your waist. He looks around carefully before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the spot just below your ear. Then, he moves to stand in front of you. To anyone else, it looks like two colleagues having a conversation.

"You look so fuckin' wonderful in that dress," he tells you, his voice bound with sincerity and admiration. His eyes are raking up and down your frame. The heat of his gaze making you warm.

"You don’t look so bad yourself," you tease. That’s an understatement. His suit fits him like a glove, perfectly tailored to all of his curves. It’s all crisp edges and careful lines. He’s wearing the cufflinks you got him for his birthday, the ones engraved with the both of your initials. The letters are small, tucked away on the underside. No one knows they’re there – your little secret.

Valentino winks at you as you stand up, going to take a step forward, but a hand on your arm stops you.

"Vox was aking where you were. The meeting already started, come on." Vox's assistant acompanies you towards Vox's office.

As you walk through the lobby you whisper to Velvette.

"No idea he was in his office, huh?" perhaps you were trying your luck, but in all honesty, Vox had pretty much as much respect for Velvette as he had for you.

"Do you think I care where that asshole is? I'm not his nanny." She talks back, louder, so that you can hear her as you enter the door.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

There's a pull between you and Val. It's like a magnetic force, dragging you together no matter where you are , or what you're doing. You're feeling it within the dull board gatherings. You feel it in the dull 'Vees Team' gatherings. You feel it at the functions he’s reluctantly invited to by Vox. You feel it now, as you try not fall asleep at Vox's words of how you all should double the work and double the content. He says that as if animating was that easy.

You allow your mind to drift away, dreaming of what awaits you later tonight. You can picture it perfectly. You and Val, curled up in bed, his penthouse bedroom illuminated by candlelight. Glasses of wine discarded on the night stand, sheets thrown across the mattress, legs tangled together. Skin pressed to skin, warmth seeping into your bones. Gentle melodies filling the room, the man underneath you humming softly into your ear. If this is hell, you’ll think. then it might just be better than heaven.

The second you get out of the meeting, you feel his eyes on you. Heat prickles over your skin, goosebumps rising. It's kinda like a 6th sense, this quiet communication between you. You capture his gaze and wink, and you swear you see him blush slightly. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and gestures in the direction of the door. You get the hint, and follow him, trailingly behind subtly.

You reach the corridor and look around, but Valentino is nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, you feel a warm grip grab your hips, pressing you into the wall.

"Been holding up to urge my hands on you all night," he mumbles into your ear.

He's trailing his fingers up and down your sides. You can feel him, hot and difficult behind you, groaning as he bites at your throat. He kisses the hinge of your jaw, and after that your cheek. It's forbidden and it's provocative and it's so tender it makes your knees wobble.

"Come to my room," he begs. "Vox is so distracted with that Radio Demon that he won't realise."

The offer is tempting. So, so tempting. But there's currently so many people in the Vees' house. Any of them could see you enter the same room… suspicions arise. As easy as it would be to just say fuck it and tell everyone, your survival instinct tells you it wouldn't be the best idea. You want to stay in this little bubble of warmth and love and trust a little longer.

You want to stay happy a little longer.

“We can’t,” you whine. “Someone might notice.”

"I don’t give a fuck," he replies.

"Of course you don't."

"You shouldn’t either."

You want to disagree, but the way he’s moved his hand to sit at your throat while pressing himself into you is making it hard to think.

"Live a little, baby," he teases, nipping at your ear.

"Fine! Fuck, fine. Let’s go before I change my mind."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your eyes blink open, sunlight streaming through the sheer window ornaments. You're resting comfortably on Val's chest, both of his solid arms wrapped around you. You yawn languidly.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Oh. That. You check the clock on the nightstand, realising that it’s only 7am. On a Saturday. Who’s knocking on the door at 7am on a Saturday morning?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Fuck, is the noise getting louder? You push Valentino carefully, waking him up.

"There's someone banging at your door," you whisper.

He groans and untangles his legs from yours. He puts on a pair of boxers, and moves towards the door.

You listen intently, curious to know who’s trying to gain Valentino’s attention so determinedly.

The door swings open.

"Vox?" he questions, and you can almost hear the fear in his voice.

“Hey Val. Did you see where the fuck y/n went to?”

[publicenemy212]

Part 1 of Love Potion (dom!Velvette x f!sub!reader)

There's two parts to this story since it's porn with plot (yeah yeah no one reads smut for the plot I know) and Part 1 is gonna be pretty SFW other than some cursing. Part 2's (the actual smut) in the works and will be out in about two days!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Word count: 1,199 words

Summary:

You're a well-known Sinstagram influencer with hundreds of thousands of loyal followers. Yet, each time you post, you're only really looking for the attention of one person: Velvette, Hell's high-end fashion designer and fellow influencer. After posting several pictures taken during a night out with friends at Klub Kaiju, you wake up to a much-wanted message that you formerly could only dream of.

“Alright, stay safe! Thanks for the ride,” you called out to the designated driver for the night. As the car sped off, you sighed and walked to the entrance of your apartment building, wincing with each step. Your feet screamed in pain from being in heels all night long—you couldn’t wait to just fall down into your comfy bed.

The bedframe squeaked as you practically threw your battered frame onto the mattress. You groaned with relief as you loosened the corset and kicked off the heels. Though your eyes threatened to glue themselves shut with each blink, you forced yourself to stay awake. There was no chance you’d fall asleep before posting the new flicks from your night out. Such were the responsibilities of an influencer like yourself.

You dug through your purse, praying your phone didn’t somehow fall out while you were on the dance floor. Thankfully, it didn’t, and you promptly opened the Sinstagram app to create a new post.

Scrolling through your gallery, you chose a few pictures of different angles to best showcase your outfit and, of course, your body. You weren’t only posting for the measly 400,000 nobodies who would scarf up any and all crumbs you’d throw to them, no; you had somebody to impress. A very powerful somebody, whose opinion could make or break your career. Velvette. Arguably the most well-known and respected fashion designer in all of Hell.

You chose three of the best contenders and minimally filtered out any slight imperfections, be it an unsavory onlooker in the background or the club or a speck of dust in the camera lens. Any filtering beyond that was unnecessary and would probably only decrease the quality of your pictures.

Satisfied with the pictures, you began laying out a caption and all the usual hashtags to increase your reach.

When the night calls

#pentagramcity #pridering #klubkaiju #model #VVVmodels #VelvetteScouting

The last two tags were the most important. Everything else was almost trivial at this point—you had amassed enough followers to gain a steady stream of likes, comments, and shares. All you needed was to catch Velvette’s eye to reach the next step to power and success.

After you gave your post a final once-over, you tapped “Post.” As usual, the notifications started flooding in almost immediately. You glanced at the top of your Vphone to check the time—4:52 AM—and rolled your eyes. Just how pathetic were these sinners that you could post at the buttcrack of dawn and thousands would still flock to your post nearly instantaneously? 

You closed the app and your Vphone, determined to get some well-deserved shut-eye. You had never been so grateful it was a Friday night and not a weekday night. Though you didn’t get hangovers often, you absolutely despised not being able to get all eight of your beauty sleep hours.

Sleep quickly enveloped your tired body like a warm blanket.

The next day, the sound of screaming outside the window roused you from your hibernation. Perhaps once it was the sound of birds chirping that would wake you up, but such days were long gone ever since you found yourself amidst dirty streets and red skies. Not that you cared much, anyway. Your past life was a speck compared to the time you’ve now spent in Hell. 

You blinked slowly and turned over to reach for your phone. Obviously, notifications were off, so you manually opened Sinstagram to check if any of your friends had messaged you through the night and morning.

You scrolled through your list of unread DMs to check how many people you needed to respond to. This was all muscle memory for you and your eyes almost glazed over with boredom until an unfamiliar profile picture flashed by. You frowned in confusion. Did one of your friends change their profile picture? You were certain you set your settings to only allow people you followed and were followed back by into your primary messages channel.

You scrolled back up to investigate this unfamiliar face.

Your heartbeat froze.

Velvette (✔)

Hey darling! I saw your re… · 2h

There’s no way. Surely this had to be a prank?

You carefully tapped on the profile just to make sure it was really Velvette, being mindful to avoid prematurely opening the message in case it truly was her. Could it be somebody impersonating her? No, that couldn’t be, no lowly fan account could obtain a verification mark. Maybe one of your celebrity friends was pulling your leg? That couldn’t possibly be either. Impersonating an overlord was equivalent to poking the bear and asking for death. Not to mention the fact that it would ruin their own online persona and brand if they randomly changed their account so drastically.

Your heart had seemingly defrosted while thoughts and questions ran through your brain. It was now pounding with the ferocity of a thrashing, turbulent river. Could it really be…? 

The account was real. Velvette messaging you was real.

All your hard work had paid off, and you were on your way to being part of the Vees.

You swiped back to the messages screen and stared at the unread message from the fashion icon. What should you say to her? What if she would notice the second you opened her message? Oh god, what if she was judging you for taking so long to respond to her this very minute?

Breathing deep to calm yourself, you tapped on her message.

Hey darling! I saw your recent post. You’re quite lucky to get a DM from me directly, just so you know. I have my assistants reach out to most people who’re trying to get scouted via Sinstagram. What do you say to coming in for an interview tonight? x

Blood pounded in your ears. You tapped out a quick reply.

Hi Velvette! Thank you so much for your consideration! I’d love to join you for an interview tonight. Just to be clear, is there anything I should bring?

You nearly jolted out of your own skin when Velvette read your message barely a minute after you sent it.

Just yourself. No makeup, the stylists will take care of that when you arrive x

You double tapped her message to like it before shooting a final confirmation and thank you message and your phone promptly flew across the bedroom and thwacked against the wall. Shoving your face into the pillows, you rolled around back and forth and kicked your legs madly. Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit. You finally did it.

You screamed into the pillow before lifting your head up and gasping for air. Giggles bubbled up your chest and erupted out of your mouth until it turned into full-on laughter.

As the initial high of being noticed by the fashion overlord subsided, doubts crept up into your mind once more. You weren’t one of her models just yet. There was still an interview to pass before you truly worked under Velvette. You groaned in displeasure at the idea of not quite reaching your goal just yet.

Sitting up from your bed, you decided to get ready for the day and night ahead of you.

-

Part 2 is out! <3

[mehiwilldoitlater]

a small drabble, i was inspired

Imagine finally getting the chance to buy a really nice dress.

Crocodile knows that you're not a vain woman, and he knows that you're not someone capable of spending thousands of dollars just for your wardrobe. But you saw that dress, so beautiful that it made your heart skip, and he has this important gala where he really wants to go with you; at least he won't bore himself to death.

And yes, maybe he does want to show you off a little. So, since the occasion presented itself on your doorstep, he was happy to oblige you with your small desire.

It wasn't nowadays that you had some particular request, and once in a while wouldn't kill anyone, no?

Well, imagine leaving your house, happy as a child, ready to receive a so-dreamed-of toy with one of his helpers (Mikita's was always so ready to accompany you around town), only to return empty-handed, with your face hiding in your coat, running in your shared room, and hiding yourself from all day.

Of course he knew something was off; you didn't send him a photo of the dress, and you didn't respond to his messages. Mikita was the one that reached for him after he had made several calls to your phone, discarder near your throw purse during your escape in your room.

He was a formal, calm, and collected man. He always knew how to put his emotions aside and how to use his logic.

"Sir, they... uh, we didn't buy the dress...they started to make comments about Miss Y/N, and... I think that they made assumptions about her budget? ...about her measurements and the dress?"

Well, collected man as fuck. She tried to honeycope; what he learned was that those idiots from the boutique had the audacity to critique your body, the fact that you could pay for that damn dress, and all of that shit.

"Is she crying?"

The silence of the young woman was enough.

When he returned home, he found you still in bed, now completely worn out from the cry after that umiliation. He knew you weren't strong like him, but you were far too kind for your own good.

His larger hand caressed your head, trying to convince you to look at him. A pink sugar box in his hand, inside your so-dreamed dress with a letter.

The actual designer apologized for his employee's demeanor, promising that he would take immediate action. She even put on a matching pair of shoes with the dress, hoping to be able to make up for the disgraceful event of the day with Miss Y/N.

You sniffed, hugging the dress, and your grumpy lover murmured your thanks and your love praises to him through his robes. You haven't eaten all day except for breakfast, just before heading to the boutique, and you are starving right now.

And while you both were going to eat, he was quite satisfied to know that those employees were now without jobs and had no possibility of finding new work.

Ah, he didn't mention to you that the designer was one of his most trusted customers, and she had designed for him a few of his clothes? ... Yeah, let's just put this aside for now.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Eros: Chapter One

Eros: Married to Dream of the Endless, you find yourself sent back in time to Ancient Greece where you, unfortunately, meet Oneiros. Fresh off a divorce and drowning the sorrows of his son’s death by indulging in the Panathenaia, you find yourself trapped beneath the lustful gaze of your future husband. In your defense, he seduced you first…

Warnings: Language, Time Travel.

To Note: Morpheus x Wife!Reader, Time Travel, Oneiros is used for AncientGreek!Morpheus.

Word Count: ~2.9k

Masterlist | Next

You spent a lot of time staring at the throne adjacent to the intricately carved marble one depicting the helm of Dream of the Endless. It was more feminine, carved out of the same marble as the Morpheus’, but designed with a softer touch. It was a marble forest, twisting branches and flowers that were inspired by Fiddler’s Green, your fingers always ended up tracing little grooves and bumps absentmindedly.

“Hey boss lady,” You turned your head in time to see Matthew fluttering his way up to your shoulder. His feet clutched the fabric of your sweater and shuffled his wings, looking at the two thrones. “You know you’ve been married for like, two months… right?”

“Distinctly,” You answered dryly, having very vivid memories of your wedding night. You hadn’t left the bed for three days, and then couldn’t walk right for three weeks. Morpheus had been very smug with the way you hobbled around, while you felt like crawling into a hole in embarrassment. You’d married a voracious Endless that aspired to paint every millimeter of your body with his love, and ensure that everyone knew it. “But it’s not like I was born knowing I was going to marry an Endless and become the queen of a realm.”

“True, true,” Matthew echoed with a bob of his head. “But ma’am, has anything actually changed in your life? Ignoring the fact that you live here now…”

You thought about Matthew’s words. Not much had changed in your life save your happiness. You had only ever really felt happy when visiting the Dreaming, so there wasn’t much you missed in the Waking. The people in the Dreaming themselves had always gone to you for advice now that you thought about it. They felt confident speaking to you about their problems… so you had been their queen long before you became their official one.

“No, nothings really changed… and it’s just a title,” You mused softly walking towards your throne and running your fingers along the warm marble. Warm and cool, just like you and Morpheus. You were an unusual pairing and not one that you’d think would work in the first place. “Alright, I’ve stared at the thrones for long enough, it’s time to go outside and touch some grass.”

“Ya know I think Lord Dream could touch some grass time to time,” Matthew muttered from your shoulder. “He’s been kinda uptight lately.”

“Probably cause of all the changes, you know he likes things certain ways,” You said dryly, thinking back to all the arguments you’d gotten into with him just because he was being a giant dunderhead who didn’t want to listen to you and pretended that your opinion and decision didn’t matter.

“Yeah you might be onto something,” Matthew chirped in agreement. Exiting the palace, you wandered through the gardens while letting your fingers brush along the flowers and bushes of the garden. “But at least he’s trying!” Matthew added, trying to be positive about his boss.

“He got pissy with me because I wanted to take a walk in London by myself after we had lunch with Hob,” You couldn’t help but point out. “It was London, in the middle of the day when families were having picnics!”

“And we both know humans can be assholes,” Matthew reminded you. “The boss doesn’t have a lot of good experience with mortals to go off of.”

“Pretty sure I have more experience in the human department than he does?”

“Point,” The raven agreed, taking off and swooping through the limp branches of the weeping willow in front of you. You passed beneath the little tunnel of gnarled branches carefully grown and kicked out your foot. You’d been feeling antsy lately, cooped up and in need of stretching your limbs. Maybe you’d go for a swim? Morpheus didn’t exactly like you swimming in the Ocean of Dreams, but you and the entity had a pretty good relationship and she didn’t try to drown you when you went swimming. “He’s still gonna throw a tantrum.”

“And I dare you to say that to his face,”

“I’ll pass I like having feathers… and living in general...” Matthew shuddered to think what Morpheus’ reaction would be of learning he’d said that.

“It would be funny though,” You giggled to yourself, imaging the initial confusion that would cross Morpheus’ face… then perhaps just a hint of an eye tick, then the whole: you dare… Your husband was entirely too predictable at times and you found it very amusing. You were deaf to Matthew’s disgruntled grumbles and continued walking, not realizing that your feet were carrying you towards the beaches of the Ocean of Dreams.

“Holy shit,” Matthew’s curse behind you jarred you from your thoughts. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had caused him to curse, the Ocean of Dreams was churning in unhappiness. High above violent waters were storm clouds, flickering with lightning and letting out echoed of thunder. “Uh, you ever seen this before ma’am?”

“No,” You informed the raven, trying to see if you could feel what was wrong to have the Ocean of Dreams so agitated. “Matthew return to Lucienne, speak with her about this matter. Surely she has a clue.”

“Right on it, boss lady,” Matthew called before surging into the air and flying back to the palace as fast as he could. While Matthew was doing as you asked, you quickly hurried up to the waters edge. Oh yes, something had agitated the Ocean of Dreams, she was not happy. Without hesitation, you strode into the cold water, determined to figure this out. Morpheus was away on business, you could handle this, you could handle this.

When you were waist deep, you dove deeper, fully submerging yourself. The water, while a usual chilly cold, seemed to be colder than normal. Even the currents were stronger, more aggressive. You tried to look around for the physical manifestation of the Ocean in the form of your shadow figure, but you couldn’t see her anywhere. A smattering of bubbles escaped your lips as you sighed in frustration and swam further towards the depths. In your efforts to hunt down the physical manifestation of the Ocean of Dreams, you failed to notice that the currents were getting far too strong for you to swim through.

Now, you didn’t need to breathe oxygen thank to Morpheus making you immortal… but it wasn’t exactly comfortable holding your breath, or accidentally inhaling the salty water. So when your body began getting tossed and turned like you were in a hamster ball and it was being shaken, you started panicking. Floundering, the water around you began shifting from chilly cold to warm… and then back again. Cold. Warm. Cold. Warm. Cold. Warm. Your arms cartwheeled through the salt water until the temperature stayed warm and a bright light appeared. The storm must have finally disappeared!

You kicked your way towards the surface, hoping that Lucienne would know why the Ocean of Dreams had gotten so upset and the weather so irritable. The moment your face broke the surface you knew that something was very wrong.

First, it was way to hot for you to be in the dreaming. Second, it didn’t sound like you were in the dreaming. Third? When you opened your eyes you were most definitely not in the Dreaming!

“Ah shit,”

You spent a solid five minutes panicking about the fact that you were most definitely not in the Dreaming anymore. Morpheus was going to go ballistic when he found out. Then your panic increased because you didn’t know where you were, and you were in the middle of an ocean! At least you could see land, but it was a distance away from you. Still coming to grips with what you were dealing with because hello, some magic fuckery had just occurred and you were not kosher with it, you paddled towards a weird looking boat in the distance.

As you grew closer, you could hear shouting in a language you didn’t quite understand, and the sounds of screaming. Focusing on the words, the power Morpheus imbued within you shifted the strange words until you could understand them. Greek. A child had fallen overboard. Your eyes dropped to the water and you spotted a dark haired child splashing around violently. You didn’t think twice about quickly swimming towards the child as they disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

Dipping back below the oceans surface, you swam your way over to the squirming child, a girl. She was wrapped up in a beautiful white cloth that was currently hindering her ability to swim. You made to her and wrapped your arms around her thin body before looking up and kicking your way back to the surface. When your head broke the surface, you made sure you pulled the child up so her head too, was above the choppy waters.

She was clutching your forearm in a death grip, nails digging into your flesh. You were glad that she wasn’t trying to claw her way on top of you. Spitting out ocean water you’d accidentally swallowed, you began carefully side stroking your way over to the odd boat. You weren’t sure what was going to happen, given that people didn’t just appear it the middle of the ocean. As it turned out, luck was on your side and the greeks who hauled you and the little girl up onto the ship were entirely convinced that you were some lost noble… all because of of the clothes you wore.

Apparently only the rich and noble people of Greece could afford to wear purple clothing.

The boat was taking the little girl, a daughter of one of the nobles in Athens (how the hell did you end up in Ancient Greece?), home after visiting her aunt in Crete. She’d accidentally tumbled over the side and now refused to let you go for fear of a repeated event. So you were awkwardly standing around in your ‘strange clothes’ while the little girl held onto you like a baby monkey. At least when the boat docked at the harbor of the ancient city of Athens, in all its blazing glory, you were offered a cloak to cover your strange clothing.

Clearly the little girl you’d rescued came from a very rich family, because the carriage that you’d been herded into was lavish. You sat inside it while warriors on horses surrounded you, and spent a good twenty minutes trying to think of what the hell you were going to do, let alone say, because this was way out of your realm of expertise.

“What is your name?” Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Well, they already thought you were some lost noble or princess… might as well play it off as some greek god blessing or something… hopefully the gods wouldn’t be too upset with you. Not that they would be able to raise hand towards an Endless’ wife…

“You may call me Elpis,” You told the little girl. “What is yours?”

“Kynna, are you the great spirit Elpis mama told me about?” Soft brown eyes gazed at you with such reverence, you wanted to say yes and make her dreams come true. But you couldn’t exactly claim to be someone you were not. You stroked your hand over her still damp hair.

“I’m afraid it is only a name sake,” You replied, lifting your gaze to see several grand buildings pass by as the carriage rattled and shook. “I was lost at sea but the gods brought me to you.”

“Well if you’re lost… you can just live with us while we find your family!” Kynna exclaimed with a wide beaming smile. “Panathenaia is starting tomorrow, they’ll be lots of parties and pretty dresses, and we get to give a new peplos to Athena!”

“I don’t think that will be up to me,” Your words didn’t hinder the excited babbles of Kynna, and while she continued to talk animatedly, you mulled over what you were going to say when you got to your destination.

You didn’t have to say much, the greek noble woman of Kynna’s family, along with the other aristocratic women from surrounding families living in the housing surrounding the communal living space and baths, were entirely convinced you were an aristocrat who had some how fallen overboard and lost most of her memory. You were fine playing amnesiac as it meant less questions. You just had to get used to a different lifestyle while you tried to figure out what the hell had happened to you.

A circle of woman around your age, Merope, Agapia, and Helike, had taken you under their wing while servants scurried about in preparation for the Panathenaia. Your modern clothes had been ditched for a silk peplum that draped around your body and showed skin in several places, and you’d been adorned with a multitude of jewelry by Kynna’s father for saving his little girl. In essence, you looked exactly like the woman everyone thought you to be: Elpis, a greek aristocrat with amnesia.

You’d spent the first couple of days hiding out in Kynna’s household, not sure of yourself and not wanting to make trouble for the family, but your trio of new friends had convinced you to come out to the communal space on the promise of seeing several handsome men and enjoyable drink and food. Eye candy and snacks, you were down for that. So you were walking with your gaggle of friends and contributing to the objectification of several fine greek men who had arrived home for the Panathenaia, when Merope had wanted to visit the sun room to see what special guests had arrived.

“Oh I heard Theos returned from Sparta looking for a wife.” Agapia gushed as she combed her fingers through her hair.

“Forgive me for not immediately fawning over this Theos… who is he?” You asked as Merope and Helike giggled.

“He’s Athen’s most prized warrior, competed in the last Olympic Games and won several events.” Agapia explained to you as your group walked beneath a trellis tunnel of roses. She went on to explain, in detail, every millimeter of the specimen known as Theos and by the time Helike was telling Agapia to stop drooling, you were very interested in seeing if this Greek was as handsome and strong as he sounded.

“Oh don’t stop now, you’ve gotten me interested,” You mused with a soft laugh while passing a group of men who eyed each and everyone one of you. Your laugh was like a gentle bell softly ringing and easily drew eyes. Helike rolled her eyes, Agapia was oblivious (far too busy drooling), and Merope fluttered her eyelashes but stayed silent.

“I am sure there shall be a man at the festival who willwin your hand, Elpis,” Agapia said while holding her hands to her chest. “Because while we all know that you’ve got heads turning, you appear to have very little interest in those we have crossed paths with so far. Mark my words, you shall find someone you desire by the end of Panathenaia.”

You rolled your eyes, you’d humor the women. They’d been so kind and generous to you despite you being a total stranger… but it wasn’t like you could admit that you were already married, and didn’t even belong in this era.

“As you say, Pia,”

“Oh, I can’t believe it!” Merope gasped quietly the moment you entered a large room with many lounging chairs and dozens of greeks laying about. You hummed in question and looked at her. “Lord Oneiros has decided to be in attendance!”

Something perked up within you at the mention of Oneiros, and your head snapped to the dark haired beauty in confusion.

“Sorry, did you say Oneiros?” You asked, your voice coming out in an odd tone. You’d heard that name before, when Morpheus had assisted Calliope upon hearing her call. She referred to him as Oneiros. Morpheus was Oneiros. How could he be here? The girls gathered around you and gestured to a corner of the room. Your eyes followed and you felt your heart freeze your chest. This wasn’t possible, was it?

How could it be that your dark and broody husband, was sitting in the corner of the room dressed in robes of black, complete with a laurel crown perched upon his midnight curls? You trembled in place, fighting against the urge to charge forwards and throw yourself at him because you really missed your husband and just wanted to go home. But as you gazed at the Dream Lord, you began picking up on his mood, his temperament. He was surrounded by a cloud of pain that you could feel in your heart, deep within his beautiful blue eyes was a raw hurt that nearly pulsated from his being. Oh. Oh fuck. Ancient Greece… Calliope the Muse… Orpheus. As if feeling your stare, sharp blue eyes shifted and met yours. No recognition could be found within their depths. He didn’t know you. But he was intrigued.  

“I wonder who the lucky women will be this year,” Agapia softly wondered, the other two agreeing with her sentiments. “They say he is a voracious lover, indulging in the delights of many before finally picking the ones he desires.”

A dark eyebrow rose ever so slightly accompanied by the smallest of smirks, and something within you cracked. He was Morpheus, but he wasn’t yours. You felt like you couldn’t breathe and quickly tore your eyes away from those of the Dream Lord.

“We should fill our bellies before the rest of the men arrive, the gods know they’ll eat it all,” You rushed out, your heart pounding in your chest painfully. Herding your friends in the opposite direction of Oneiros, you were desperate to get away from the being that you, one day, would call yours. 

Date Published: 12/30/23

Last Edit: 12/30/23

Masterlist | Next

[bugsinshoes]

OKAYOKAYOKAYOAY SOOOOO

i CANNOT stop thinking about musical falls. GENUINELY. it rotted my brain. SO! i've spent a bit of time doodling and coming up with ideas for how BILL would be presented on stage.

firstly, we have 2-D Bill/Pre-Weirdmageddon Bill. the idea i had for this form is that we'd use a spotlight tinted with a yellow gel and on top of that there'd be a gobo (stencil) of Bill's triangular form.

(examples of how that'd look onstage)

pros- spotlights can effortlessly move around stage without physically interfering with actors, also it mirrors how in the show, he's limited to the mindscape and how he doesn't have a physical form yadda yadda yadda (you get my idea)

cons- not much movement/expression. also kind of a disembodied voice? Bill is very expressive so it'd be hard to showcase something like that on a cut out stencil of him.

ANOTHER IDEA (i just had now as i'm writing this): Bill projection !!

so, it'd be a projected image of Bill which would be able to be animated so THAT solves the issue of the previous idea. plus i'm sure there'd be a way to move the projection around the stage if needed.

uhhh anyways !! back to my original ideas !!!!

obviously everything i've just mentioned is for 2-D Bill, but HERE is where it gets exciting. when Bill gains his physical form during Weirdmageddon.

so, when Bill gains a physical form, i had 3 ideas:

IDEA 1- Lin Manuel Miranda as Bill.

now, in my previous post about musical falls, i was kind of /j ing the idea, but i think it'd be genuinely hilarious. imagine this, duing the whole musical, bill is this 2-dimensional projection, kinda eerie. makes you think "how is he gonna look once he gains a physical body?" then BOOM its Lin Manuel Miranda. obviously his costume would be a waistcoat and jacket combo (something similar to how i drew him in my past post) but yeah. that's really the only reason. it'd be funny. idk.

IDEA 2- Puppet Bill.

this Bill would be more canon-accurate, still in his triangle form, except he'd be puppeted by someone. now, this comes with the same problem as gobo-bill. LACK OF EXPRESSION. he's stuck to one emotion/"facial" expression. (also i have no idea how puppets work. if anyone with more knowledge than me wants to add on/constructively criticise, you're welcome to!) i didn't really expand/think too much about this idea either soooo.....

IDEA 3 (my favourite)-

drag. bill.

i really like this idea. now, i'm no costume designer, nor do i do drag (so apologies if i've gotten anything wrong) but i think this would be something really cool to see on stage. the shape language of the costume, alongside a gorgeous makeup look, AS WELL as it being a real person acting, really feels like a good direction to go in, as it would allow full movement, gestures, and expressions !! (hooray!!) also i really need to see an awesome Bill-inspired drag look onstage. it'd be awesome.

ANYWAYS THAT'S IT !! THOSE ARE MY IDEAS !!!

this is all for fun as i KNOW this won't ever become an IRL stage production (probably) but a guy can dream. i just had so much fun coming up with ideas for the heck of it sooo !!!

another MASSIVE thanks to @fordtato for making that video about musical falls. i think i'm obsessed.

AAAA THAT'S ALL !!!! :D

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

New Beginnings

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: New city. New job. New school. New apartment,. New neighbors. New beginnings.

Square Filled: choose your own au for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

This is a new start for you. New city. New apartment. New neighbors. New job. A fresh start from your old life. Growing up, you’ve always been a small-town girl with hopes of moving to a big city to chase her dreams. Back home, everyone knew everyone’s business. Like when Shelly from church was caught having an affair with the pastor. Her husband found out that day and both of them had to leave town to avoid the scrutiny of everyone else. Or like the time when your sister got pregnant and only told a small group of people only to go to work the next day and people knew.

Small-town folk aren’t for everyone which is why you left while you could. The only problem is that all your family is back home. You know no one in Quantico, Virginia. You guess that’s the best part about it. You can reinvent yourself and create a whole new life separate from what you’ve known.

Before moving to Virginia, you got yourself enrolled in night school for graphic design since you’ve always wanted to be a designer. You’ve done some work for your town like making websites for businesses and making some ads for smaller companies but you want to know more so you can do bigger and better things.

Tomorrow, you’ll scout the city and find a coffee shop to make your second home, find the nearest grocery store, etc. Right now, all you’re focused on is getting all your boxes out of the moving truck so you can return it before the deadline. You’re doing it by yourself but you don’t have a lot to do. You never had a lot when you left your hometown but it’s still a lot for one person to do.

It takes you all day to get everything inside your house, and the only thing you’re able to unpack is your bedframe and mattress. It’s going to take all week to get most everything set up which is fine because night school doesn't start for another two weeks.

You live in a building that sits in a circle of other buildings with a huge courtyard in the middle. The courtyard consists of a dog park, a pool, a volleyball set, and some outdoor furniture where people can sit and eat. Your building is right across from another so you can see into people’s apartments if their curtains are open.

Your phone rings and you answer it while admiring the other buildings.

“Hey, mom.”

“Y/N! Did you get in okay?”

“Yeah, I just set up my bed. I’ll start unpacking tomorrow.”

“I’m sad you’re so far from us but I’m happy for you. Does that make sense?” she chuckles. “Anyway, your dad and I will come visit as soon as he gets this new promotion. He’ll get some time off and we can always use the vacation.”

“Yeah, by then, I’ll have seen some places we can go to. You like history and Virginia is a history-rich state.”

“Okay, I just wanted to know if you got in safe. Your dad and I are going out with the folks from church. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure. I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

The building across from yours is close enough to where you could communicate with another resident if you shouted but you’re not going to disturb others, especially at night. The sun is still up but is quickly going down, leaving the sky with pretty colors. There is a young man sitting on his small balcony with a book in his hands minding his own business. Every apartment has a small balcony where people can sit and enjoy the fresh air, but most of them use it for storage.

The young man runs his fingers down the pages of the book and flips through the book at a shocking speed. Is he really reading that fast? He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up and makes eye contact with you. You give him a small wave to which he returns before going back to reading.

You look at the boxes inside your room and see a label on one of them that reads: ARTS AND CRAFTS. You open the box to see thick small poster boards you were using for a project back home. Next to them are your markers so you grab the black one and a handful of poster boards. You write “Hi, my name is Y/N” on one of them before going back outside.

The man looks up just as you hold up your poster board for him to see. You wrote the letters in a thick font so he is able to read them from where he’s at. He reads what you have and leaves the balcony to go back inside his apartment. The smile is lost from your face at the thought of making him uncomfortable but then he walks back out with poster boards of his own. He writes something down on his and shows it to you.

Hi. My name is Spencer.

You like reading?

I love it.

You new here?

No, been here 13 years. You new?

Yes, I came from Kansas.

Job?

Graphic Designer. You?

FBI.

Sounds exotic.

Spencer smiles at this. Some of his nighttime preparations are to read for an hour before bed, and he was at the forty-five-minute mark when you two started talking.

I have to go. Talk tomorrow?

Tomorrow.

Spencer packs up his poster boards and heads back inside, and you follow suit a few minutes later. You’re going to need to buy more poster boards if you want to continue talking to him across the courtyard. Tomorrow comes and you end up finding a grocery store, a coffee shop, and a place that sells a lot of poster boards.

Spencer must have a day job because you didn’t see him at all while you were unpacking. You started with the kitchen and barely finished with it by the time Spencer got back from his job as an FBI agent. Wow, imagine that. A real-life FBI agent. You’ve only seen them in movies and TV shows so it's kind of cool you get to say you know someone in that field.

You sit on your balcony and wait for him to come out. Ten minutes go by and you see the light in his place turn on. Five more later, he walks out on his balcony with poster boards in hand. He doesn’t look too good. Yesterday, he had a natural glow about him but today, he has a sort of sadness about him. Still, he’s out here talking to you because he enjoys your company even though you’re in separate buildings.

You okay?

Rough case.

You want to talk?

Can’t. Open investigation. Of course. Duh. He flips the poster board over and scribbles something else on it. How was your day?

Good. Just school. I graduate Fall 2027.

Field of study?

Graphic Design.

Anything I’d see of yours?

You grin and write down a website you helped design before showing it to him. He takes one look at it and types it on his phone. He admires your work and thinks it’s amazing work. You have real talent.

I like it. You’re talented.

Even from where you’re at, you can see how sad he is. You’re not sure what he’s dealt with today or what he is going through, but you hope to make it better at least a little bit. You have to use two posterboards for this to get your message across.

Don’t let your job strip you of who you are. No job is worth it if you’re losing yourself.

You got Spencer to smile.

Same to you.

As the days progress, you and Spencer make it a nightly routine of talking to each other through poster boards. During the day, you’re unpacking boxes and getting your home ready while Spencer is at work dealing with the worst of the worst. His job isn’t easy but seeing you every night lifts his spirits.

That is until he stops showing up. You gave him a couple of days without bothering him since he might be caught up in something for work, but after seeing his light every night without him coming to the balcony, you know something is wrong. You don’t know who he is fully, but you do know that he would come talk to you if he was feeling up for it.

“Any sights of your secret lover?” one of your best friends, Marcy, says over the phone.

“No, he’s still held up in his apartment,” you say and look out the window to his.

“I bet he’s not even an FBI agent. Maybe he lied to you,” Rebecca, your other friend, says.

“I don’t think so. Maybe he just needs some time alone. I don’t know a lot about him. He can only fit so much on small poster boards.”

“It’s giving You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift,” Marcy chuckles.

“I think you should go over there and talk to him face-to-face.”

“Yeah, I have to agree with Bec. It’s not like he’s your next-door neighbor. If it doesn’t work out, you don’t have to see him in passing.”

“True,” you bite your lower lip. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Let us know how it goes,” Bec smirks.

“Oh, I will. Wish me luck.”

“Luck!” both girls say at the same time before hanging up.

You turn back to Spencer’s apartment and see the light peeking through the curtains. You count the number of floors he’s off the ground and the number of apartments he’s at from the wall so you know where to start. You’re not sure what you’re going to do when you get there but you’ll think of something on the spot.

You have some cookies left over from when you made some a few days ago, so you box those up and make your way over to the building across from yours. Your keycard works for this building even though you’re not a resident in it because you’re a resident overall. Once inside his building, you make your way up to the fifth floor and the tenth apartment from the wall.

Here goes nothing.

You knock twice on the door and wait for someone to answer it. It might not even be his apartment but you’ll try all of them if you have to. A few moments later, Spencer opens the door with a confused look on his face. When he sees you, his eyes widen slightly.

“Wow,” he breathes.

“What?”

“You’re more beautiful in person.”

Your cheeks heat up at his compliment.

“I brought you some cookies. I hope you’re doing okay. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he sighs. “Work has just been… yeah, it’s not fun sometimes.”

“I can only imagine which is why I brought some cookies.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“Yes,” you smile.

You walk inside and immediately notice all the poster boards he’s been using to communicate with you. He’s saved every single one of them and that brings a smile to your face. You never thought you’d meet someone this quickly after moving to a new city, but you’re glad you did.

x

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[asvterias]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟧: 𝖶𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖳𝗈 𝖢𝖺𝗆𝗉 𝖧𝖺𝗅𝖿-𝖡𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽

the cast // series masterlist

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5 || chap. 6 || chap. 7

word count: 5.1k+

author’s note: anyways, i hope you liked this chapter! please don’t be a silent reader and interact within the chapter.

tag list: @s0r0ws @starvviss @kjisbae17 @lov3rgiiirl @starless-nightz @random-girls-loves @coolgirl458

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

‼️ DISCLAIMERS FOR THIS CHAPTER ‼️

Foreshadowing, Reader is once again pulling bitches 😏, Adrianna and Reader are 100% besties!, Reader kinda being naive, Luke trying to flirt with a lesbian but she’s clueless as hell about it 😭

Bold alone are the Dreams

Italics alone are the Reader’s thoughts.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

Chiron toured the siblings throughout the outskirts of the camp. “This is a sacred valley. Humans can’t see it, monsters can’t enter it. The world can’t touch it. Great care was taken to bring you two here, and great sacrifice.”

Your eyes traveled to a group of boys, tending to a flower bed, goat legs for humans, the same ones as Grover’s, so they must be the same species.

The three of you ventured into the forest, lantern posts every few feet away, directing the journey. Two owls landed on the tree branches above you, staring down at you as you continued to walk through the forest.

“So, there’s something I gotta tell you. I lost your pen-sword thingy,” Percy remembers.

“Oh, yeah, me too,”

“Hopefully those weren’t your only ones,”

“Check your pocket.”

“No, we lost it the other night, on the hill.”

“Check your pocket,” Chiron repeats.

Sharing a glance with your brother, you two checked your pocket, pulling it an object…the same pen.

“Unless you surrender it, it will always find its way back to you. Magical objects don’t obey the physical laws of the ordinary world. Your pen, my wheelchair, they’re all a part of your father’s world, as are the two of you now.”

“Speaking of our father, do you know where he is or who he is?”

Just like that, someone else dismisses your statement. “I have something to show you,” It was really starting to get annoying at this point. Why couldn’t someone be honest and straightforward at this camp?!

Stopping at a clearing, you observed the scenery ahead of you. It was beautiful, you’d admit that, but this wasn’t a vacation, it was a sanctuary for fellow demigods like you.

“Twelve cabins, for twelve Olympian gods.” He gestured to the specific cabins.

Children walked and ran around the vicinity, an arrow arranged at the front, guiding the different cabins with the gods’ names on them. “Each cabin is home to the children that god has claimed.”

“Great, which ones are we?”

Chiron pauses, looking down as a frown overtook his face. “You have not been claimed, neither of you.”

“What? Do we need to get a blood test or something to find out? It can be done, but my brother gets squeamish at the sight of needles…and blood, but no worries, I’ll hold him down or we can knock him out for a while.” You suggested your insight. “Unlike him, I have self-control,”

“No, no, no, that’s not how it works around here, Y/N,” he chuckles at your thought process.

“Well, when do we get claimed?”

“The gods reveal their design in their own time, not before. Your father might claim you tomorrow, it might be next week, it might be–“

“Never,” You cut him off with an unconvinced yet dejected expression.

“Even now, he still wants nothing to do with us. What are we even doing here? There’s no place for us here.”

“There is a place for you two.” He points to the nearby cabin behind you, “Here…Hermes, gods of travelers.”

“His cabin is home to both his own children and the unclaimed.”

“No, what is needed is for another Hermes cabin to be constructed and built another one.”

Finally walking into the cabin, Chiron looks around at the busy campers. “Everyone. Everyone.”

Percy reaches out to stop Chiron. “Wait– wait a minute.” It was no use, Chiron didn’t hear him.

“Everyone.” He claps his hands together, silencing down their conversations and gaining all their attention. “This is Percy Jackson and Y/N Matthews. I trust you will see to whatever he needs.” He introduced the two siblings.

“I know you feel powerless, but you’re not. All will reveal itself in time.” After that, he left the cabin.

You nudged Percy forward, quickly sauntering over to the two sleeping bags on the floor with your belongings. Sending a hard scowl to everyone who shared a weird glance at your brother, forcefully breaking their eyes off of you two.

Once you approached your belongings on the floor, you groaned in annoyance. Kneeling down on one knee, and opening your bag, you searched for the mini clear bag of seashells your mom gave you a few days ago. You smiled in appreciation, tightening your grip on the object.

“That’s them. I think that’s the girl who killed the Minotaur and her brother.” Your ears perked up at a boy's voice who seemed to be looking your way.

You glared at the boys, dropping your item back in your bag, standing up to your feet, and keeping Percy behind you as the main boy walked up to you.

He was cute, but not your type.

“Listen here, Prince Charming and his goonies, I don’t have the energy for this and neither does my brother. Try again tomorrow, maybe we’ll be prepared for this bullshit of being a bully, got it?”

He had curly black hair, a notable scar on his right cheek, and a toned body.

“Heard what happened to you on the hill. And I just…wanted to say I’m really sorry. I know what you’re going through, believe me.”

Wait a damn minute. He’s good-looking and has a nice personality, oh something’s definitely wrong with him. Either the universe is being too nice or he isn’t what he pretends to be.

You nodded in surprise at his empathy, “Uh, thanks for that, I guess.”

“I’m Luke.” He held his hand out, wanting you to shake it.

“Y/N,” you shook his hand, warningly of the boy’s true intentions.

“Great name.”

“Thanks, you have a basic name.”

He laughs slightly. “So, I’ve been told,”

“My name is Percy, she’s my older sister,”

“Cool, I’m Luke,”

“…I know, I heard you the first time,”

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

You were sitting at a mini campfire beside Percy in the middle of the desert as the night sky peaked. He watched as the sand slipped between his fingers and you smiled in contentment.

It was the same voice from your previous daydream, coming from a binding light in the far distance. “Ah, he left you two here, left you with nothing. I know how you feel. You want what’s been taken from you. You two want justice…” A sudden sandstorm crawls at your feet, shaking you back into reality and startling you awake from your sleep.

You shoot up from your bed, gasping in heavy breaths as you remember your surroundings. Looking down at your brother, who slept peacefully, you exhaled a breath of relief with your hand resting on your chest.

Your hand rummages through your hair cloth, scratching the braids underneath the fabric.

“You okay?” Luke asks, arising from his bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just nightmares.” You breathed out.

“We all have them, you know. Intense, recurring nightmares. That’s normal here. And the daydreams, and the ADHD, and dyslexia.” He explains to you, “Demigods just process reality differently than humans do. For the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.”

“Do you also have a sleeping pill to reduce these nightmares or are those nonexistent with decent fashion sense here too?”

“Sorry to say we don’t,” He chuckles, “But there are other ways to cope,”

“Oh, yeah, like what? Take a walk around the camp. Or maybe, a late-night swim should ease it up,” You feigned interest, unwrapping your hair cloth and tossing it in your bag.

“I like you, you’re funny.”

“I’ve been told sarcasm is my greatest quality,” You smiled, getting up out of your sleeping bag, and yawning as you stood up.

“Do you wanna take a walk?”

“Sure, I’ll wake Percy up.” You shuffled over to wake him up but Luke’s calm voice stopped you.

“No. No, perhaps maybe just you and me. You should let your brother get some more sleep.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and shrugged at his explanation, standing upright and retreating back to him.

“Really? What’s there to talk about?”

Before he could admit it, your brother Percy stirred awake, a tired groan escaping his lips.

“Looks like you owe me a walk and talk, later,” You wink at him, giggling slightly as your brother groans again.

“Sure,” he blushes, “I’ll hold you to that.”

Percy stood up, walking over to the two of you, groggily wiping away the exhaustion out of his eyes.

“How’d you guys sleep?”

“Like a baby,” You sarcastically respond.

“Decent enough,”

“So, Luke, are you also…do you not know who your–“

“Am I unclaimed? No, Hermes is my father.”

“That’s good…right?” You gave him a shrug.

“Not as great as you think.”

“Right, sorry, Luke.”

“That doesn’t matter, we’re all on the same team here.” He brushes off the topic of his father.

Are we really though? Your intuition disagrees with the dark-haired boy, but you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. You just met him anyway, no need for judgment so early.

“Why is that okay? Why do they get to bring us here to just ignore some of us?”

“Spend too much time trying to figure out why the gods do whatever it is they do, you’ll drive yourself crazy. Sooner you stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer,”

“And what’s that?” You inquired, fixing your braids.

“Glory,” He tilts his head, glancing at you. Percy noticed the interaction between the two and scrunched in disgust.

You walk ahead of the two, excitedly cheering upon seeing Adrianna by the door.

“Don’t gain a crush on my sister, she isn’t into you like that.”

“What?” He splutters, astonishment written all over his face. “I don’t have a crush on your sister!” He hastily defends the assumption.

“Hmmmm…well whether you do or don’t, a word to the wise, she loves girls, like absolutely loves girls, and completely despises the majority of the male population.”

“Okay…thanks for the heads up,”

“It wasn’t meant to put you at ease, it was meant for you to back off my sister completely.” Percy implied, “So no more weird longing looks at her, or subtle flirting either. She loves girls and is definitely a 100% girl kisser. Stop searching for something that isn’t there, it’ll only affect you here, got it dude?” He insists, raising an eyebrow.

“Totally, got it.”

“Good,” he huffs, “That’s all I wanted to say,”

The two boys catch up as you all walk around to explore the camp. Luke was accompanied by one of his many half-siblings, Chris Rodriguez, and a dear friend, Adrianna Smith who shared the same kindness to the Jackson siblings.

“Demigods have always fought for glory. They used to call it kleos. It’s like this stuff that attaches itself to your name.”

“What if I don’t want any more friends?”

“Then you have me,” He smiles down at you.

“And space,” Percy shoves Luke aside, bringing you closer to him.

“Personal space is very important too and it seems Luke forgot about it. Don’t you worry either, dear sister, I’ll always be here to remind him.”

“Good, I guess,” You agreed, oblivious to his statement.

“At first this place can be really shitty,” Adrianna starts, keeping her arms looped with yours, “But I trust you’re gonna love it..or tolerate it in the end,” the blonde shrugs her shoulders, “It’s really up to you,”

“Stop being such a debbie downer, Adrianna,” Luke rolls his eyes.

“Can’t do that, it’s my passion,”

He continues, “Glory makes you bigger, scarier, more important. People listen closer when you talk, they work harder to be you and they think twice about messing with you.”

All of a sudden, a girl bumps into Percy and exclaims in protest causing the random girl to turn her head, now facing you.

Sparing one glance at the boy, and pushing against his chest, easily shoving him to the ground. Percy lands on the ground with a grunt, as the girl sizes you up, standing beside Chris.

“Give him a break, Clarisse, it’s like his first day,” Luke tells the curly-haired girl.

She briefly looked at Percy and then shifted her gaze onto you.

“Yeah, I bet…” she jeers, cockiness and sarcasm in her tone. “So these are the two newbies, huh?”

Her dark brown eyes flicker from you to Percy, a malicious intent as she smirks. “We’ve met before, right? You’re the same cute clueless girl with the annoying brother I talked to at the infirmary cabin.”

She was nice to you earlier, but now she’s being mean? Probably uses that as a defense mechanism to put her walls up, you could see right through her.

Your face remained stoic, currently incapable of displaying any emotion of gratitude to the girl. This was not the time to approach a bully, much less a self-appointed popular girl at this camp.

You were tired, your body was exhausted and your stomach grumbled in irritation or hunger, possibly even both. This familiar girl bullying your brother wasn’t what you had in store for today, out of all days. Why couldn’t today, out of all days, be peaceful?

You shove her back, using much force to have her stumble back, “What’s your problem?”

Clarisse looks at you in bewilderment and scoffs, “Excuse me?”

“Did I stutter? You bothered my brother first so it’s only fair! Do you feel entitled to bully my brother?”

The curly-haired girl glares at you, stepping up closer, “If I were you, I’d watch my tone when talking to me.”

You step closer to her, “My tone’s staying the same, you got a problem with it, use all that pent-up anger for something good and prove me wrong but if you’re all talk, pipe the fuck down and stay out of my way.”

“Here I was thinking you were nice and quiet, guess I was wrong. So how you doing, clueless?!”

“Fine until I saw you.”

“I doubt that, clueless girl,”

Yeah, you highly doubted that yourself.

“Stop calling me that!”

“No! I like that nickname for you so I’m keeping it!” Taking two firm steps closer to you, she looks you up and down, “If you want me to stop, then make me, Matthews.”

“Another time, I suppose.”

“No, no, no! Do it now, Matthews, unless you’re too much of a pussy to put me back in my place,” She got closer to your face, noses touching and lips barely hovering over the other.

“Well, you are what you eat.” You retorted back, “Does that apply to you too, LaRue?”

She scoffs, ignoring your remark.

“Never in a million years would I ever kiss you.”

“I never specified which girl you would kiss. Which meant I was on your mind for you to be thinking of kissing me.” You teased her. “Never say never, LaRue,”

Her eyes flickered briefly towards your lips, she looked flustered, immediately covering up her blush. She nods her head, feigning to be understanding, and distances herself a few inches away. Considering her impressed by your assertive tone she changed the subject almost immediately.

“Wait, so you’re the siblings who killed the Minotaur, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Hmmm…I don’t believe it.”

“We’re not asking you to nor do we really care if you believe us, it already happened, we have the proof as well.”

Clarisse partially smiles, eyes trailing down your figure, checking you out as she clicks her tongue, “I like you, you’re quite bitchy, just my type.”

“I’m surprised you’re capable of having a crush on someone,”

“Me too,” she confidently admits, “But I guess someone might change that.”

“Keep on dreaming La Rue.” You scoffed at her flirty remarks.

“You never know, pretty girl.” the nickname rolls off her tongue smoothly.

You hate to admit how sultry her voice was, hanging off that nickname made you flustered. And with that, Clarisse and her posse of half-siblings left as Percy got up from the forest ground.

“Wow, no one’s really stood up to Clarisse like that before,” Luke admits, blowing out a breath of surprise.

“She seems nice.”

“I’m taking it that she’s this camp’s bully.”

“Ares kids, they come by it honestly.”

“She’s not gonna let you live this down,” Chris informs you, observing how your eyes still follow Clarisse’s figure.

“Yeah, I know,” you glance at Clarisse walking off in the distance and drift your attention to your younger brother, “But no one bullies my brother, that’s my job.” you ruffle with Percy’s blonde hair as he rolls his eyes at you.

“Haha, very funny…” Percy sarcastically replies, swatting your head away from his head.

“You’re right, I am the funnier sibling.”

“Says who?”

“Says you. You just said it!”

Luke chuckles at your sibling banter, “C’mon guys, let’s finish the tour.”

“Why don’t they mess with you?”

“They know better.”

“Luke’s the strongest swordsman at camp,” Chris boasts.

“To which I still doubt to this very day,” Adrianna interjects.

“How would you know, you’re always in your father’s workshop all the time,”

“So they leave you alone because of ‘glory’?” Luke nods his head, allowing Percy to continue, “So if I get glory, Clarisse wouldn’t mess with me either,”

“Exactly.”

“And people think I’m a big deal?”

“Well…” Adrianna trails off, “They think Y/N is a big deal, considering she actually killed the Minotaur, but it’s good to have hope.”

“So that means, our dad has no choice but to claim us,” he assumes, looking at you.

Luke and Adrianna shared a skeptical glance.

“Listen here, little dude, you can’t force the gods to do anything,” The blonde girl advised.

“Well yeah, but it would make it harder for him to pretend that me and my sister don’t exist, right?”

“Or our dad could be really great at ignoring his biggest responsibilities and many years of child support.” You commented.

“Maybe,” Luke squints his eyes.

“To which one?”

“To which one what?”

“Were you responding to me or Percy?”

“Umm…” he blew a breath of uncertainty, “I don’t…Adri knows who I was referring to…”

“Firstly, Adri is reserved for Y/N only, not anyone else. Secondly, yeah dude you weren’t being specific,” Adrianna adds.

“Traitor,” Luke scoffs playfully.

“I think that’s you!” Adrianna remarked.

You saw him tense up at the remark and your curiosity got the better of you. Why did he tense up like that? Is there more to the story Luke is letting on? Does he truly seek good intentions for you and your brother, Percy?

It took him a while to finally answer the question.

“Maybe for both,”

“And the world may never know,”

“Great, right back where we started,” You sighed.

“Nevermind, Luke, guys.” Chris clears his throat, sending the awkward atmosphere, “Let’s put your skills to the test, see if you’re really deserving of glory,”

“Well, great. Where do we start?” Your little brother’s eagerness was clear as day.

You can never figure out if Percy’s pessimistic or optimistic, however, you were a more ‘go with the flow’ kinda of girl.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

You witnessed the girl in the wheelchair, using a bow and flaming arrow, aiming her weapon at the practice target, smiling when it landed the bullseye.

“A good source of glory are feats of skill,” Luke states, handing you a bow and arrow. “So, we gotta figure out what you’re good at.”

“Well, I don’t have it anymore, guess my glory was fun while it lasted,” You shrugged, turning to walk away, patting Luke’s chest, “I’ll see you around,”

Luke reached out his hand to grab you but Percy’s unimpressed gaze stopped him. Percy shoots him that ‘Don’t even think about it!’ stare. Adrianna found it funny how oblivious you were to this current situation and relished the boys’ tactics. So to taunt Luke even further, she grabs hold of your hand, smirking when you accept the kind gesture.

Adrianna tugs on your arm, dragging you back to her, “It doesn’t hurt to try,”

“It may hurt for the bystanders,”

“Stop being such a worry wart, it promotes wrinkles and you can’t have that on a pretty face.”

“You think I have a pretty face?”

“How could I not?!”

“I do have a pretty face, don’t I?”

“Dare I say the most gorgeous one at this camp,” She winks.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Adri,” you playfully reprimand.

“I’m quite certain I can handle things firsthand, I’m a hands-on learner,”

“Oh really?”

“Wanna find out?” She checks you out. You’d be lying right now if your cheeks weren’t so flustered, and tiny butterflies didn’t erupt in your stomach.

Luckily, your brown skin diminished any sight of blushing, only others to assume, just the way you’d prefer it to be. For others to be unsuspecting and unaware.

This was how best friends act all the time anyway so you played along, just for the fun of it.

“Are we here to flirt or are we here to train?!”

“I can do both at the same time,” Adrianna tilts her head at the Castellan boy, enjoying his torment to the fullest, much to his dismay. She glanced at you, a smirk appearing, “How, Y/N, what about you?”

“I’ll need some practice,”

“And I’ll be happy to teach you,” She smugly states, moving closer to you, and settling beside the wheelchair girl.

You shuffled with the bow in your hand, feeling uneasy with the weapon placed in your care. Adrianna hands you an arrow, and the wheelchair girl lights up the tip of the arrow with a generic gas lighter.

“Is this safe?”

“Probably not,” The girl shrugs.

“So you decide to put us all at risk because of your uncertainty?” You asked incredulously, “Oh I’m loving this camp!” You stepped closer to the target, aiming your weapon at the target, closing one eye for better perception, pulling back the arrow, and releasing it toward the target. You held your breath, watching the arrow hurl towards the target, smiling when it landed, missing the bullseyes by a few inches.

“Told you that you’ll love it!”

“Not bad for your first try,”

“Told you,” Adrianna grins.

“Your turn, Percy!” You shoved the two-pieced weapon in his arms.

“I wanna be very clear about this. I’ve never done anything like this, and it looks super dangerous.”

“Ehh and you and Y/N never double-teamed killing a Minotaur before either, ‘til you did,”

“Y/N did all the work,” Percy mumbles, “Why does everyone keep forgetting that?”

The girl moved to light the tip of the arrow on fire, but he pulled away, “I wouldn’t,” He warned the girl.

“Trust me, he wouldn’t,” You stared at the girl who chuckled in your direction, backing away from Percy a bit.

He stepped forward, fixing his posture on the arrow, stretching the arrow back, and releasing it into the air. Too bad his aim was horrible making it fly over to the group of spectator campers. Scaring everyone else, they ducked down, trying to dodge the flying arrow and Percy tripped onto the grass himself.

Your brother blinked once, staring at the distressed faces of the campers, and hesitantly asked; “Should I try again?”

There were many clamors of disagreements after that, earning boisterous laughs from you and Adrianna. Obviously, Percy is now a safety hazard towards bows and arrows, so hopefully he will become more resourceful with another weapon soon.

Next, you two ended up in the camp’s workshop, bustling with sweating eager kids rushing around to create variations of weapons for later use.

“Now we’re in my domain,” Adrianna laughs, ushering you and Percy to wear aprons, gloves, and safety glasses.

“I’ll handle Y/N, Luke you got Percy,”

Luke agreed, disappearing further into the workshop with Percy.

“So your godly parent is…”

“Hephaestus, god of forgery. None of those titles matter anyway if you’re just gonna be a shit dad to your children.” She mutters, eyes lingering on the ground. You could hear the hurt in her voice as she strained to maintain an emotionless tone.

“Adri…” You longed to comfort your friend but refrained from doing so.

“Don’t know why I said that, but continue.”

“Adri…”

She hums, encouraging you to continue.

“Everything isn’t okay, you can tell me anything. I know we just met but–“

“Maybe another time,”

“Whenever you feel comfortable,” You rubbed a hand over her shoulder.

“Great, now back to figuring out your skills.” She points to the inflamed metal.

“I don’t deal with melting shit of any kind, I’m barely even trusted to cook on the stove by myself,”

“Relax, Y/N. Just follow after me,”

You place the safety glasses over your eyes, grabbing the hammer. The melted metal was already in place as you repeatedly hit the hammer against it, hoping to mold the heated metal. It was going well for a while, until you lost control and the heated piece of steel flew across the air, landing on heaps of bags.

Your eyes widened when those bags caught on fire and Adrianna grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the disaster.

That was an epic fail!

Apparently, when you reunited with Luke and Percy, the same occurrence happened with your brother. Now some Hephaestus’ kids were currently disposing of fires, accidentally created by the two siblings.

Great minds think alike, you guessed.

“When’s lunch, I’m starving,”

Chris laughed at your question.

“What’s so funny about that? I was serious.” You deadpanned, glaring at him. “I never joke about food, keep that in mind.”

His laughs came to a halt at your seriousness as he cleared his throat, dismissing the slight embarrassment he felt.

“Oh, I love you already, I don’t fuck about my food either,” Adrianna laughs, skipping over to wrap an arm around your shoulder. “C’mon let’s ditch the boys, I have a hoard of snacks to keep you occupied until lunch,”

You giggled at her suggestion, instantly agreeing, allowing her to drag you away to her cabin.

“Seems like Y/N and Adrianna are getting along pretty well,” Chris comments.

“Yep, that’s good.” Percy smiles in recognition, pleased to see you content and not in a gloomy depressed state, troubled by your losses.

He knows you’re burying the pain and suffering, at least for his sake. Regardless if you were putting on a mask to protect him, your brother was highly aware that certainly, you admired having a friend of your own and the happiness it came with.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

The siblings meet up at the dining pavilion, Percy sits in between you and Adrianna with Luke and Chris across from them.

“Is there a Greek god of disappointment?” Percy asks, letting his question linger in the air before resuming, “Maybe someone should ask him if he’s missing a kid.”

“I think they should, you know,”

Percy turns to you, “Oh, gee, dear sister, you sure know how to brighten my mood,” He sarcastically replies.

“I know,” You giggle, “You’re blessed to have me, all of you are, but my future girlfriend will be the most blessed to be dating me,”

“No doubt about it.” Adrianna winks.

“Are you two flirting?” Percy squints his eyes.

“Yes, but in a platonic way,”

Luke attempted to encourage the blonde boy, but Chirs beat him to it as he stared at his brother in confusion.

“Oizys…but she’s a goddess, and her whole thing isn’t really a disappointment, it’s more like a failure,” Chris stated blankly, playing with his food, obviously not reading the room.

“Now I know who never comes to me when I need consolation,” you shake your head, chewing your food.

His brother, Luke blinked incredulously, rolling his eyes at him, and turned to Percy.

“We’re gonna find the thing that you’re good at. I know it.” He reassures the blonde boy.

“Yeah, but do you… like truly? Don’t give him false hope,” You reinstated.

A chiming bell cuts the conversation short, confusing you and Percy.

“Our turn.”

“Our turn for what?”

“Burnt offerings,”

“The gods like the smell, so it gets their attention before you say a prayer,” Luke confirms.

“They like the smell of burnt mac and cheese?”

“You telling me that I must waste my blessed food on deadbeat immortal gods?! Nah, fuck that, Imma eat every ounce of my food. What did those gods do to earn my leftovers, nothing at all,” You exclaimed, raising an eyebrow.

“They like the smell of begging,” Adrianna includes, standing up with her plate.

“That’s believable, but it’s not worth the sacrifice of my food, it’s too precious,” You defended your food, “And also…I ate everything from my plate,” You trailed off, staring down at your empty plate.

“It’s fine, I’ll share with you,” Adrianna suggested.

“You’ll burn what you’ll miss the most, then they know you really mean what you’re about to say, so they listen.” Luke finishes, leaving with his plate alongside Adrianna.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

Later that night, you headed to bed early, exhaustion deep in your bones. Adrianna had spent the entire day with you, departing from you with a comforting hug, and going to her own cabin.

You felt Percy shuffled against his sleeping bag, causing you to groan and stir slowly awake.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You whispered to him, rubbing out the tiredness away from your eyes with concern written all over your face.

“Just gonna talk to my mom,” he clarifies, holding his bag of blue candies in the air.

“Do you want me to come with you?” You began to remove your blanket.

“No, no, I’ll be fine, stay here.”

“Be safe,” you whispered to him with a small grin.

“I will,” he reassures you with a small smile and he snuck out past the many campers in the cabin.

Reassured by his disappearance, you laid back in your bed, snuggling into the cover sheets as sleep peacefully claimed you once again.

Day 1 at Camp Half-Blood seemed to be decent at least.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

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