#maybe the thought that summer break is just around the corner gives me the will to actually push through

[sockeyesoren]

Who let the dogs out

[buckets-and-trees]

Obsidian Stain and Sin

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark Ari Levinson x Female!Reader, soft!dark Curtis Everett x Female!Reader, Ari x Reader x Curtis Word Count: 8.1k Summary: You've thought of getting your first tattoo for a long time. When you walk into Obsidian Stain Studio, you experience services beyond what you bargained for.

Content/Warnings: tattooing/needles, DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit smut, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, kissing, anal play/rimming (female receiving), eating it from behind, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink, manhandling, fade to black/abrupt ending

Author Notes: I've had this idea all summer. I've been eager to write it, but literally the muse only kept teasing me with it until literally about six hours ago when she said, WE'RE DOING THIS, AND WE'RE DOING THIS NOW, so it's almost late/maybe it's still you're birthday week for a hot minute in some time zone, but I'm slipping this to you @stargazingfangirl18 for your Birthday Bonenanza! Literally, when I tell you that when you originally tagged me in the announcement, and I read over the myriad of prompts, I thought, "Oh, wow, this is so tattoo Curtis and Ari coded, it HAS TO happen for Siri's birthday..." that's really how my brain thought it was finally going to get the jump on working on this. But then no. Then that other Steve story happened, and I was stoked about that. Then the new chapter for Nomad Steve, and I thought, ah well, still fun stuff, maybe someday this, and then AT THE LAST MOMENT, Muse pulled a plot twist. So here's some ruinous hoe shit. Multiple dialogue prompts from the challenge are used here, and you'll find them in bold.

A/N 2: Shout out to @vonalyn for a few convos hashing out some of this concept!

You are surprised by the tinkling of a classic bell hanging over the door that rings pleasantly as you enter the tattoo parlor.

A man behind the reception desk immediately looks up to greet you. He doesn’t shoot you a phony, business-y smile, but his demeanor is still warm and approachable. “Welcome,” he greets you. “Walk-in or appointment?” he asks.

“Um, walk-in,” you manage. In a black t-shirt with shoulders that are nearly bursting through the fabric, lush hair and beard, and striking blue eyes, he’s more than an impressive specimen. “If you’ve got an opening?” you quickly add.

“Sure, we can take you,” he says. His gaze flicks to a scheduling book in front of him on the counter. “A couple of the boys are on break or about to finish up with other clients. Your first time here, yes?”

You nod. “First tattoo ever.”

“Oh,” he says, and his eyes brighten. “Even better. Let’s get you booked in.”

He takes your name, email, and phone number to set up a profile for you in their system. There are some electronic consent forms that he takes you through and has you agree to and sign on an iPad, and then he takes asks a few questions about what you’re interested in.

“Based off what you have in mind, Curtis might be the best artist, but he won’t be finished for maybe an hour.”

“Ah,” you look at your watch. It was a bit of an impromptu idea for you to drop in to get the tattoo this afternoon, and you had time, but you had probably been foolish thinking a walk-in was any sort of good idea.

“But,” he interjects, “I’ve got two other guys who are excellent, and either one of them should be ready to take you pretty soon. Take a seat just over there, and I’ll go check in with them and get a call on time for you. I’ll also grab you a drink. Pick your poison - we’ve got water or Coke products.”

You give him your preference, and he nods and smiles.

“Right then, sit tight, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He disappears around the corner, and you do as you’ve been told and take a seat on one of the black leather couches in the lobby.

Now you have time to really take in your surroundings. The walls are black with white moldings at the floor and ceiling, and the hardwood floors are a warm walnut. Everything is dark but clean. Classic but clearly in line with current trends. On the wall behind the desk, there’s a gorgeous, white-lettered feature with shop name - Obsidian Stain Studio - that’s sleek and impressive. On the wall next to you, there are ten framed pieces of art on the wall in a mix of sizes, some of them hand-drawn artwork, and the rest photos of finished tattoos on skin.

You’re nervous but determined not to be, so you cross your legs and try to keep your anxious energy limited to just running your fingers back and forth over the edge of your phone. Looking at the different designs on the wall does serve to capture your attention, though, and quell your nerves slightly.

The man working reception returns and hands you the drink. “We should have you back there in a chair in ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Great,” you respond, and the nerves kick up a notch, but it’s with a surge of excitement.

This is happening.

You take a sip of your drink, grateful for something to occupy your hands. The cool liquid helps soothe your nerves a bit. As you wait, you observe a few other clients entering and leaving the shop checking in or paying as they leave. Some sport fresh bandages, while others are clearly here for consultations, clutching sketches or reference photos.

The buzzing of tattoo machines creates a constant backdrop of sound, occasionally punctuated by muffled laughter or conversation from the back rooms. The atmosphere is more relaxed than you expected, nineties music underscoring it all.

As you wait, a couple emerges from behind the partition separating the lobby from the work area. They're both grinning, the woman cradling her forearm gently. Her companion is animatedly discussing something with her, gesturing excitedly. You catch a glimpse of fresh ink on her skin as they pass – a vibrant butterfly with intricate, colorful wings.

The sight makes your heart race a little faster. Soon, that'll be you walking out with fresh art on your body. The thought is both thrilling and slightly terrifying.

But you won’t be walking out with a friend or partner.

Your gaze wanders back to the artwork on the walls. One piece in particular catches your eye – an intricate mandala design with flowing lines and delicate detail. You find yourself drawn to its symmetry and complexity.

"Which one’s got your attention?" a voice asks, startling you from your reverie. You look up to see someone you can only describe as a lion of a man standing before you. All of his attention is focused on you like you’re his next prey. He towers over you with a mane of golden brown hair that’s grown out to tuck nicely behind his ears and curls out at his neck. He’s got a broad chest and shoulders covered in a denim shirt with a few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. You can see peeks of ink mingled with some chest hair as well as intricate designs over his forearms. His dark blue eyes are zeroed in on you in a way that both unsettles and steadies you at the same time.

You point at the mandala, and the man smiles. “That’s one of Steve’s. He says you’re here for your first tattoo.”

“He… wait, is that Steve?” You nod and glance over at the man at the front desk who’s now consulting with an older man and showing him a few designs.

“Yep, he owns the place and loves to work the front almost as much as the back with the rest of us. I’m Ari, by the way.” He puts his hand out, inviting you to shake hands.

You push up from the couch, stand, and offer your hand for the shake. It’s engulfed easily by his big, warm, calloused hand.

“I’m the one who’s going to make your first time special.”

Your heart stutters and your face flushes. He didn’t just… your mind races. Did he?

He chuckles and drops your hand quickly. “Follow me,” he says and turns and begins striding into the back.

You fall into step behind Ari, your eyes inevitably drawn to his broad shoulders and the confident swagger in his step. The back area is an open space divided into several stations with partial walls, each with its own tattoo chair and equipment, creating semi-private booths. Ari leads you to one in the back corner.

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the chair.

You perch on the edge, your nerves returning full force. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and ink.

He pulls up a rolling stool and sits, leaning in close. "So, tell me about this tattoo you want."

You explain your idea - a simple constellation of stars for your zodiac sign - watching as his blue eyes light up with interest. He nods along, occasionally asking questions or offering suggestions. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"Alright, I think I know what you're after," Ari says, reaching for a sketchpad. "Let me rough out a design for you."

You watch, mesmerized, as Ari's hand moves swiftly across the paper. His brow furrows in concentration, and you find yourself studying the angles of his face, the way his beard accentuates his strong jaw. Within minutes, he presents you with a design that takes your breath away.

"What do you think?" he asks, a hint of pride in his voice.

The constellation is there, just as you imagined, but Ari has added subtle details that elevate it beyond your expectations. Delicate lines connect the stars, and a hint of shadowing gives the piece depth and movement.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the sketch.

Ari grins, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Great. Now, let's talk placement."

You indicate the spot you've chosen - your inner wrist. Ari nods approvingly. "Good choice. Nice and visible, but easy to cover if needed. Mind if I take a look?"

You extend your arm, and Ari gently takes your wrist in his large hands. His touch is surprisingly soft as he examines the area, his fingers tracing the spot where your tattoo will soon be. You can't help but notice the contrast between his rough, inked skin and your own unmarked flesh.

"Nice canvas," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. "Skin's good here. This'll work well." He looks up, catching your eye. "Ready to get started?"

You nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest.

“You’re a sweet, innocent thing, aren’t you?”

You open your mouth but shut it again, unsure how to respond, and he brushes his thumb over the pulse on your inner wrist, and you think you see his eyes darken.

He releases your wrist and turns to prepare his equipment. You’re frozen in place, but luckily that’s fine as it’s not necessary for you to move. You watch as he efficiently sets up his station, laying out ink caps, adjusting his machine, and pulling on a fresh pair of black latex gloves. The buzz of the tattoo machine as he tests it sends a jolt of excitement and nervousness through you.

"Alright, I'm going to clean the area now," he says, swabbing your wrist.

His touch is clinical now, professional, as he prepares your skin. The cool antiseptic makes you shiver slightly.

"Cold?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"A little," you admit.

"Don't worry, I’ll have you warm soon enough," he says with a wink that makes your cheeks flush.

Ari places the stencil on your wrist, pressing it gently to transfer the design. When he peels it away, you see the outline of your constellation on your skin for the first time. It sends a thrill through you - this is really happening.

"Make sure you’re happy with the placement before we start," he instructs. "This is your last chance to change your mind."

You focus to examine the design on your skin more closely, heart racing. It looks even better than you imagined.

"It's perfect," you say, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.

Ari grins. "Alright then, let's make it permanent. You ready?"

You nod, settling back into the chair and extending your arm.

Ari takes your arm gently, positioning it just so on the armrest. "Now, I need you to stay as still as possible," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's going to hurt a bit, especially at first. But I promise, I'll be as gentle as I can."

The buzz of the machine fills your ears as Ari brings the needle to your skin. You hold your breath, bracing for the pain.

The first touch of the needle is a sharp, burning sensation that makes you wince. Ari pauses, his eyes flicking to your face. "You okay?"

You nod, determined. "I'm fine. Keep going."

“Move an inch, and you’ll be sorry.”

You open your mouth wordlessly again, and he laughs.

“Only joking. I know you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip and nod, something fluttering in your stomach, mixing wickedly with your nerves and the uncertainty around this man who skirts between being casual, soothing your nerves, concentration on his craft, and making these comments that insinuate and evoke wholly inappropriate thoughts.

He smiles, then concentrates back on your wrist and resumes his work. Gradually, the initial shock of pain fades into a more manageable discomfort. You find yourself relaxing, mesmerized by the steady movement of Ari's hand and the way the muscles in his biceps move and flex.

As Ari continues, your eyes shift to his face. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his blue eyes focused intently on your skin. There's something mesmerizing about watching him work, seeing the care and precision he puts into every line. The buzz of the machine becomes almost soothing, a constant backdrop to the occasional murmur of voices from other stations.

"So," Ari says after a while, breaking the silence without looking up from his work, "what made you decide to get your first tattoo today?"

You hesitate, unsure how much to share. "It's… kind of a long story."

Ari glances up, a small smile playing on his lips. "We've got time. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."

You take a deep breath, wincing slightly as the needle hits a sensitive spot. "I've been thinking about it for a while. But today… today felt like it was finally the day to take the leap."

"Spontaneous decision, huh? Those can be the best kind."

You nod, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "I guess I just wanted to do something for myself. Something permanent.”

Ari nods thoughtfully, his eyes still focused on your wrist. "Sometimes we need a physical reminder of the changes we're making inside," he says softly. "Something to look at and think, 'Yeah, I did that. I made that choice.'"

His words resonate with you, and you find yourself relaxing further. The pain has faded to a dull, almost pleasant sensation.

"So, what's your story?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you. "How did you get into tattooing?"

Ari chuckles, pausing to wipe away excess ink. "Now that's definitely a long story. But the short version? I was a troubled kid, got into some bad stuff. Tattooing saved me, gave me a purpose."

He glances up, meeting your eyes. "There's something powerful about creating permanent art on someone's body.”

The words send another thrill through your body and you nod, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens at his intense gaze. "I can see that," you manage to say.

Ari returns his attention to your wrist, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's intimate, you know? Creating something that becomes a part of someone forever."

The word 'intimate' hangs in the air between you, charged with unspoken tension. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his hand on your skin, the gentle pressure as he works.

“You’re the one Steve says I nearly got to mark for the first time,” a new voice startles you, and you jump slightly in your chair.

Ari tsks, but his left hand had been holding your arm down firmly.

The other man chuckles. “Sorry, sugar.”

He steps closer, coming into Ari’s booth. He looks to be slightly taller than Ari, and a shade leaner, but he’s still built with more muscles than the common man. His hair is dark, shorn close to his head, and a dark beard covers his angular jaw. Ice blue eyes pierce into you, and you fight hard to suppress an actual shiver running down your spine.

"Curtis," Ari says without looking up, his tone a mix of amusement and mild irritation. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Curtis leans against the partition, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement draws your attention to the intricate tattoos covering his forearms. He’s got more ink than Ari.

"Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Steve said we had a noteworthy first-timer."

You feel your face flush, unsure whether to be flattered or embarrassed. Curtis's gaze is intense, almost predatory, as he looks you over.

"Well, now you've seen," Ari says, his voice tight. "Don't you have your own client to attend to?"

Curtis huffs. "Just finished up. Thought I'd come say hello." He turns his attention back to you. "How're you holding up, sweetheart? Ari treating you right?"

You nod, finding your voice. "He's been great," you manage to say, your voice a bit shaky. "It doesn't hurt as much as I expected."

Curtis grins, a glint in his eye. "Oh, Ari knows how to make it feel good, doesn't he?"

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks at the innuendo. Ari's hand tightens slightly on your wrist, and you see his jaw clench.

"Curtis," Ari says, his tone a clear warning.

Curtis holds up his hands. "Alright, alright. I can take a hint." He fixes his gaze once again on your face. "Maybe next time you'll let me be the one to mark you up. Lot more skin still to explore."

With that, he stalks away, leaving a charged atmosphere in his wake. You can feel the tension radiating off Ari as he resumes his work on your tattoo, his jaw clenched.

“Sorry about that,” Ari says after a moment, his voice low. "Curtis can be… intense."

You nod, still feeling flustered from the encounter. "It's okay," you manage to say, trying to calm your racing heart.

Ari looks up at you, his blue eyes searching your face. "You alright? Need a break?"

You shake your head. "No, I'm fine. Let's keep going."

He nods, returning his attention to your wrist. The buzz of the machine fills the silence between you once more. You try to focus on the sensation, the slight sting as the needle moves across your skin, rather than the lingering tension in the air.

After a few minutes, Ari speaks again. "You know, you don't have to let anyone pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with. Not here, not anywhere."

His words surprise you, and you meet his gaze. There's a protective glint in his eye, but he quickly returns his attention to your wrist. Ari's movements become more deliberate, almost possessive, as he continues working on your tattoo. The tension in the air is palpable, and you find yourself hyper-aware of every point of contact between your skin and his.

"Almost done," he murmurs after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all. "Just a few more touches."

You watch as he adds the final details, marveling at how the constellation seems to come to life on your skin. When he finally sits back, setting down the machine, you can't help but gasp.

"It's beautiful," you breathe.

Ari's eyes meet yours, a mixture of pride and something deeper in his gaze. “It suits you perfectly."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words. Ari gently wipes away the last traces of excess ink, revealing the full beauty of your new tattoo. The stars seem to shimmer on your skin, the delicate lines connecting them creating a sense of movement and depth.

"Now, let's get this wrapped up and I'll go over the aftercare instructions with you," Ari says, reaching for a roll of clear film.

As he carefully covers your new tattoo, his fingers brush against your skin, sending little sparks of electricity through you. You can't help but notice how his large hands handle your wrist with such care and precision.

"There," he says, smoothing down the edges of the wrap. "All protected."

Ari walks you to the front, and your heart races when you see Steve and Curtis speaking quietly with their heads together. Ari clears his throat, and at the sight of you, Curtis nods, rakes his gaze over you once more. “Come back soon, sugar.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at Curtis's words, but Ari's steady presence beside you helps ground you. Steve steps forward, a warm smile on his face.

"How did it go?" he asks, his eyes flickering to your wrapped wrist.

"It was amazing," you reply, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Ari did an incredible job." You extend your wrist, showing off your new tattoo.

Steve nods approvingly. "Beautiful work. Ari’s one of our best. Let's get you checked out."

As Steve begins to ring up your work, Ari leans against the counter beside you. His arm brushes against yours, and you're acutely aware of his proximity.

"Remember," he says softly, his voice low enough that only you can hear, "take care of it. It's a part of you now."

You nod, shyly meeting his intense gaze, looking up at him through your lashes. "I will," you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ari's eyes soften, and he reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the edge of the wrap on your wrist. "Good girl," he murmurs, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

Steve clears his throat, breaking the moment. "All set," he says, handing you a receipt. "We hope to see you again soon."

You nod, suddenly feeling flustered. "Thank you," you manage to say, gathering your things.

As you turn to leave, Ari's hand catches your elbow gently. "Wait," he says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small business card and presses it into your hand. "In case you have any questions about the aftercare. Or anything else."

Your fingers brush as you take the card, and you feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. You look down at the card, noting the personal cell phone number scrawled on it. "Thank you."

Ari's blue eyes lock with yours, intense and filled with unspoken promise.

You barely seem to turn away, but somehow manage to break off from the eye contact, and quickly rush out of Obsidian Stain Studio.

You keep Ari’s business card, but as the weeks go by, you don’t use it.

After a couple of months, you move the card from the spot next to where you keep your keys where you see it every day, into the top drawer of your desk. Out of frequent sight, but not out of mind completely.

It’s a solid six months before you return to Obsidian Stain again, but ultimately you do. The bell jingles above your head as you step inside.

The tattoo on your wrist had healed beautifully, and you loved seeing it on your skin. You had decided fairly soon afterwards that you wanted another tattoo, but even after saving up for your next one, it had taken you longer to decide whether to return Obsidian or not, the experience with Ari and encounters with Curtis leaving you torn between terrified and desperately curious to go back.

Ultimately the allure was too strong to deny.

But, more logically, although finally going in to get your first tattoo had been on a whim, you had been very thorough in narrowing down and exploring your options for months before. You knew they were one of the best in your area, especially for the style you wanted, and the price point you knew you could afford while still ensuring quality.

Unwilling to make an appointment, though, you were going to gamble on a walk-in again.

No one was immediately at the front desk, but at the sound of the bell, Steve quickly appears. “Welcome back,” he said, a broad grin on his face.

“Walk-in?” you ask, and remind him of your name.

“Oh, I remember you.” Steve beckons you forward. “Let me see that wrist,” he says.

You offer your arm with pride, and he smiles warmly.

“Looks good. You hit us on a slow day, perfect for a walk in. I’ll get you booked in, and then I’ll take you right back.”

You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as Steve leads you to the back. The familiar scent of antiseptic and ink fills your nostrils, bringing back memories of your last visit. Your eyes scan the room, half hoping and half dreading to see a certain tattooist.

"Curtis is free right now," Steve says, guiding you to a station. "He'll take good care of you."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Curtis's name. You remember his intense gaze, his bold words from your last visit. Part of you is disappointed it's not Ari, but another part is intrigued.

Curtis looks up as you approach, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well, well. Look who's back," he says, his ice blue eyes locking onto yours.

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very exposed under his gaze. "Hi," you manage evenly.

Curtis's eyes rake over you. "I was hoping you'd come back to us," he says, his voice low and smooth. "What can I do for you today, sugar?"

You begin to explain the design you have in mind - a delicate, line art floral piece. As you talk, Curtis listens intently, occasionally nodding or asking questions. His focus is entirely on you, making you feel both nervous and oddly thrilled.

“And where do you want it?” he finally asks.

You trace an area of your other arm - opposite of the one with your inked-up wrist — moving your fingers over the delicate skin between your wrist and up toward the crook of your elbow.

“Hmm,” he hums. “You sure?”

Your eyes shoot to his. “Yes?” an edge of hesitation now in your voice at his query.

He narrows his eyes slightly, then shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No. A piece like this could work well there, but that’s not where you want me to put this.”

“It… isn’t?”

“No, it should go here,” he says, and he reaches out and brushes his fingers lightly over your ribs instead, causing you to shiver.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the chair. As you settle in, Curtis rolls his stool closer, leaning in. "Now, this is going to be a bit more intense than your other wrist. You sure you're ready for it?"

You nod, trying to project confidence despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "I'm ready."

Curtis grins, a predatory glint in his eye. "That's what I want to hear from that pretty mouth. Now just sit tight and wait for me while I draw something up.”

Your heart races as you lean back in the chair, Curtis's words echoing in your mind, causing heat to pool in your core. You watch, mesmerized by the intensity of his focus. After a few minutes, he turns back to you, holding up the sketch.

"What do you think?" he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat. The design is beautiful - delicate flowers and vines intertwining in a way that would perfectly follow the curve of your ribs.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the design.

Curtis smirks, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Alright then, let's get started. I'm going to need you to lift your shirt for me."

Your cheeks flush as you slowly raise the hem of your shirt, exposing your ribs. Curtis's eyes darken as they roam over your skin.

"Beautiful canvas," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You feel exposed, knowing your own soft belly and imperfections, but he looks at you in a way that has your head spinning, it’s a hunger that’s almost reverent.

“Better if you take your shirt off for me, sugar,” he says, his tone firm.

Head swirling, you don’t think to refuse, just do as you’re told. With trembling hands, you pull your shirt over your head, feeling incredibly vulnerable as you sit there in just your bra. Curtis's eyes roam over your exposed skin, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"That's better," he says, his voice low and approving. "Now, let's get you positioned just right."

His hands, surprisingly gentle, guide you to lie back and slightly to the side. You shiver as his fingers trail along your ribs, mapping out where the tattoo will go.

"Nervous?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

He already knows the answer, but you nod, not trusting your voice.

Curtis leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar. I'll take good care of you."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

Curtis begins to clean and prepare your skin, his touch clinical yet somehow still intimate. You try to steady your breathing, hyperaware of every point of contact between his hands and your body.

"Now, this is going to hurt more than your wrist did," Curtis warns, his voice low. "But I know you can take it. You're tougher than you look, aren't you, sugar?"

You nod, steeling yourself for the pain. The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the air, and then you feel the first bite of the needle against your skin. You gasp, your body tensing.

"Breathe," Curtis instructs, his free hand coming to rest on your hip, grounding you. "That's it, nice and steady."

As he works, Curtis surprisingly stokes and then keeps up a steady stream of conversation. Mostly it’s inquiry after inquiry, forcing you to focus on finding words, but his deep voice also helps to distract you from the pain. He asks about your life, your interests. You find yourself opening up, sharing more than you intended about your life, your dreams, your fears. His voice continues to provide the counterpoint to the buzz of the tattoo machine.

"You're doing so well," Curtis murmurs, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work. "Such a good girl for me."

The praise sends a shiver through you, and you bite your lip to stifle a small moan. Curtis notices, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Sensitive, aren't you?" he says, his voice low. "I like that."

Your cheeks flush, but you can't deny the thrill his words send through you. The pain of the tattoo blends into the sensations he’s evoking as his hands move with practiced precision across your skin.

"So, sugar, what made you come back for more ink?" he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work.

You take a shaky breath before answering. "I loved how the first one turned out. And… I guess I wanted to experience it again."

Curtis chuckles, darkly. "Addictive, isn't it? The pain, the permanence... the intimacy of it all."

His words make your heart race, and you're acutely aware of how close he is, how vulnerable you are beneath his hands.

"Speaking of your first time," Curtis continues, the steadying hand that had been at your waist ghosting just a little lower, "Ari seemed quite taken with you. Did you ever give him a call?"

The question catches you off guard, and you feel a flush creep up your neck. "No, I… I didn't," you admit softly.

Curtis's hand stills for a moment, and he looks up at you, his ice blue eyes intense. "No? Now that's interesting. Why not, sugar?"

You swallow hard, unsure how to answer, yet unable to stop the words from flowing. "I... I guess I was nervous," you finally say.

A slow smile spreads across Curtis's face. "Nervous? Of Ari? Or of what you felt?”

Your cheeks flush at his perceptiveness. "Both, maybe," you whisper.

“Or maybe you were waiting for something else?" His hand resumes its work, but the touch his anchor hand seems more deliberate now, each movement charged with unspoken intent.

"I don't know what you mean.”

Curtis chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "I think you do, sugar. I think you knew exactly what you were doing when you came back here today."

His words hang in the air between you, charged with tension. You can't bring yourself to deny it, can't even find your voice to respond. Curtis seems to take your silence as confirmation.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the silence as Curtis returns his focus to your ribs. You try to steady your breathing, acutely aware of every point of contact between his skin and yours. The pain of the tattoo blends with the heat pooling in your core, creating a heady mix of sensations.

"Tattoo nearly done," Curtis says after what feels like hours.

You let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over you. The intense experience is coming to an end, but part you that scares you doesn't want it to.

"Just a few more touches," Curtis murmurs, his eyes focused intently on your skin, and the buzz of the machine continues for a few more minutes.

"There we go," Curtis murmurs. He wipes away the excess ink, then sits back to admire his work. His eyes roam over your exposed skin, a mixture of professional pride and something darker in his gaze. "Want to take a look?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Curtis helps you sit up, steadying you with a hand on your lower back as you move to face the mirror. Your breath catches in your throat as you see the intricate design now adorning your ribs. The delicate flowers and vines seem to bloom across your skin, following the curves of your body perfectly.

"It's perfect," you whisper, unable to take your eyes off the mirror.

Curtis's smile widens, and his eyes darken. "Of course it is. I knew exactly what you needed."

His words send another shiver through you, but then suddenly you feel the heat of him too close, and he’s pressed right up against your back, planting his large hands on your hips and caging you in.

"You're trembling," Curtis murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you steady against him. "Are you scared, sugar?"

You can't find your voice to answer, your heart pounding in your chest. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies - his broad chest against your back, his strong hands on your hips, the heat of him seeping through your skin.

"Or maybe," he continues, his voice low and dark, "you're excited."

One of his hands slides up your side, carefully avoiding the fresh tattoo, until it comes to rest just below your breast. Your breath hitches, and you see your pupils dilate in the mirror's reflection.

"That's what I thought," Curtis says, satisfaction clear in his tone. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you? Since the moment you walked in.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint scent of ink and something uniquely him. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you.

"Tell me, sugar," Curtis murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Did you come back here hoping to see Ari? Or were you hoping it would be me?"

You swallow hard, your mind spinning. "I… I don't know," you manage to whisper.

Curtis chuckles, the sound low and dark. "I think you do know. I think you've been thinking about this for months." His hands slide up and down your sides, careful to avoid the fresh tattoo. "Thinking about what it would be like if you came back. If you let yourself give in."

Your breath hitches. “No.”

“No?” he challenges. His right hand, still gloved, audaciously slips past your waistband and down the front of your panties to cup your pussy. He laughs softly, discovering a growing wetness there. “Yes.”

You gasp as Curtis's hand begins to stroke your most intimate area, your body betraying you with its response. Your mind races, torn between the thrill of his touch and the shock at how quickly things have escalated.

"Wait," you manage to breathe out, your voice shaky. "We shouldn't…"

Curtis pauses, his hand stilling but not withdrawing. "Why not?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Your body is telling me a different story, sugar."

You're acutely aware of how exposed you are, standing there in just your bra with Curtis pressed against your back, his hand between your legs. The mirror reflects your flushed face and wide eyes, Curtis's intense gaze locked on you.

"Someone could walk in," you whisper, a weak protest even to your own ears.

Curtis chuckles darkly. "They could.”

Your mind is spinning, caught between the intense sensations and the voice in your head screaming that this is wrong, that you shouldn't be doing this here, now, with him. But your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch.

"Curtis," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky, and tears springing up in your eyes. "We can’t—"

"Shh," he soothes, his free hand coming up to gently grip your throat. Not choking, just holding. "Don't overthink it, sugar. Just feel."

His fingers continue their exploration, finding your clit and circling it slowly. You bite back a moan, plant your hands on the mirror, and your hips rock back against him.

“Fuck, knew you wanted this,” he speaks directly into your ear.

You whimper and shake your head, but then his hand moves up to cover your mouth. “Gotta keep more quiet than that unless you want someone else to join us, sugar.”

Your eyes desperately seek his in the mirror, fear flashing in them, and the tears begin to spill over. There’s a predatory glint in his icy blue gaze.

His fingers continue their skilled ministrations, drawing forth sensations you've never experienced before. Your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch despite your mind's protests. You're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, shame, and an overwhelming, undeniable pleasure.

"Look at yourself," Curtis commands softly, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "See how beautiful you are like this."

You force yourself to look, to really see yourself - flushed cheeks, wide eyes, chest heaving with each ragged breath. Curtis behind you, his large frame dwarfing yours, his hand between your legs, the other still gently but firmly covering your mouth.

Curtis's eyes meet yours in the mirror, his gaze intense and predatory. The fear in your eyes seems to excite him further, his grip on you tightening slightly.

"Don't worry, sugar," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I knew all those pretty tears were just for show, you want this just as badly as I do, and I've got you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to. And yet, there's a part of you that thrills at the danger, at the forbidden nature of what's happening.

Curtis's fingers continue their skilled exploration, drawing involuntary gasps and moans from you that are muffled by his hand. Each deliberate movement sends waves of sensation coursing through your body, igniting a fire that you never expected to feel. Your body continues to betray you, responding to his touch despite your mind's protests, creating a tumultuous conflict within you. The thrill of the moment is undeniable, yet a flicker of apprehension lingers in the background, whispering the dangers of being caught in such an intimate entanglement, making it impossible to pull away.

"Damn, that’s a pretty sight,” a familiar voice jolts you nearly out of your skin, and you whip your head around to see Ari looming in the entry.

Curtis stops only for a moment and looks over his shoulder at the other man. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Ari shrugs, all nonchalance, and palms the large bulge pressing at the front of his jeans.

Your heart races, caught between exhilaration and apprehension. The sight of Ari standing there, a blend of curiosity, mischief, and lust in his eyes, adds an element of unpredictability that excites and terrifies you.

Curtis grunts, then says, “I’m not stopping, but I’ll share.”

Your jaw would have dropped to the floor in that moment had Curtis’s hand not been holding it in place, securing your response and anchoring you to the present. The idea of a threesome, tantalizing yet fraught with risk, swirls in your mind. How did this escalate so quickly? The thought of being discovered sends a shiver down your spine, but the allure of the forbidden is intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the moment.

You sob, overwhelmed and afraid, but it’s muffled as Curtis turns your body around with him, his grip firm yet reassuring His fingers are still moving, relentless and sure, and you can hardly focus on anything else. Your mind races through the possibilities, the dangerous thrill of being discovered adding an exhilarating layer to the encounter. Would Ari join in, or would he simply stand by and watch, adding to the intensity of the moment? The idea of indulging in such a forbidden experience fills you with a mix of dread and excitement, as if you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to leap into the unknown.

Ari pulls a privacy curtain you had failed to notice across the opening to the booth before taking the few short steps to close the distance between you. This sudden shield from prying eyes heightens the anticipation, transforming the atmosphere into one charged with desire and unspoken possibilities. Ari traces the back of his forefinger down the column of your throat, down your sternum, between your breasts, and then circles around the expanse of your new tattoo, eyes roaming over the beautiful design.

Not to be forgotten, Curtis tweaks your clit, cracking the pleasure that had been mounting like a whip, demanding an orgasm from your body, and you tremble in his arms as you cling to him. Each flick of his fingers sends shivers through you, igniting a fiery response that leaves you gasping for more.

“Knew you were such a good girl,” Ari praises, and your chest surges from his praise, his low, sultry voice invading your mind. Then, he unzips his jeans, the sound echoing in the booth like a promise yet to be fulfilled. He goes to sit on the black leather chair, pushing his pants and boxer briefs down around his ankles, revealing the enticing sight of his big, throbbing cock.

Curtis lifts you with ease and places you in Ari's lap. The transition is seamless, and you find yourself enveloped in the warmth of Ari's embrace. His hands instinctively find their way to your hips, grounding you as you settle in. With Curtis standing close, the dynamic continues to shift and evolve. You can feel the heat radiating from both men, each one eager to exact pleasure, and you hope the fire doesn’t consume you completely.

“Take off your bra,” Ari directs you.

Your eyes widen over his immediate demands, but, nervous as you still are, you don’t hesitate to do as he says. His hands on your hips hold you steady while you reach around to unclasp, and then you let it drop and fall away, biting your lip. Ari groans appreciatively, and grinds your core against his cock. You let out a shuddering breath at the friction, but it’s a singular sensation for only a moment, because then Ari dips his head and takes one of your breasts into his hot, wet mouth, and you gasp. Your fingers tangle immediately into his hair, looking for some kind of anchor.

Vaguely you hear the rustle of fabric from Curtis close behind you, and then you feel the heat of his now naked chest press against your back. He nips lightly at your neck, but then pulls back slightly. He rucks your loose skirt up over your hips, but then he rips the fabric of your panties right off, and you yelp in surprise.

Ari’s quick to muffle your sound by shifting his lips from your breast to your mouth, but his lips and tongue are no less eager, and the kiss is delicious and demanding, and you’re easily almost completely lost in him again. But Curtis has also discarded his gloves, and now his warm, calloused hands move slowly up your thighs before squeezing your hips, then start to knead the flesh of your round ass.

Curtis places a hand between your shoulders and pushes you forward, coaxing you against Ari’s chest. Ari takes the hint and leans back in the reclined chair, pulling you with him. This exposes your most intimate parts to Curtis, and he spreads you open, then presses his tongue flat against your cunt, eliciting a moan that, luckily, is swallowed up by Ari, who’s still eagerly kissing you, and now kneading your breasts in his large hands. Curtis continues to lick and lap at your cunt, but then his tongue begins to move up, and then suddenly he’s tonguing the tight rosebud of your ass, and you whimper and freeze.

Ari stops when you stop, pulling away to look at your face and assess the situation.

Curtis teases you with his tongue for another moment before pausing to pull away as well.

“Not a virgin,” he guesses, “but never had anyone play with your ass, have you, sugar?”

You close your eyes and try to take a steadying breath, your, “no,” soft and barely audible.

“Do you want him to stop?” Ari asks, and you can feel him studying your face.

Your mind is racing, but you remain frozen, unsure of what to say.

Ari brings one hand up to stroke your cheek. You lean into his touch and open your eyes again, but still don’t speak.

“Keep going,” he says to Curtis, and Curtis does.

While Curtis works your tightest hole with his tongue, still splaying your cheeks open, Ari reaches down to slip two fingers into your dripping cunt, and you eagerly rock your hips for more. Ari smiles, then brings you down with his other hand to kiss you again.

When you’re positively humping his hand, Ari pulls back from kissing you again with a darker laugh than you expected, but you’re so far gone between them, you think of stopping or slowing at all now.

“Open your eyes,” he commands.

But it doesn’t register.

He withdraws your fingers and slaps your pussy, making you gasp and groan, and your eyes whip open.

His dark blue irises are barely visible, pupils blown wide with lust, and it just cause another surge of electricity to run through you to your core.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

And then it’s his cock nudging at your entrance.

“Ari,” you groan.

“Since that first fucking minute I saw you in the lobby,” he says. He taps his cock aggressively against your swollen clit, and you keen for him. “Knew you were an innocent little thing, and I wanted to absolutely ruin you.”

You bite your lip, unable to look away from him, and think of that day, too.

“We both wanted to ruin you,” Curtis adds. And his finger takes over where his tongue had been, working gently but insistently into your ass.

You moan softly, but the two men hear it and exchange a glance over your shoulder. Ari looks pleased.

“I didn’t touch you that day, only teased you, enticed you. I knew you’d be back,” he growls. “Shame I didn’t have you on my chair again, but that wasn’t going to stop me.”

He pushes your lips back to his for another devouring kiss, but it’s brief.

“You’re desperate to be filled up, aren’t you?” he asks.

Closing your eyes again, you whimper and drop your forehead to his, but your answer is undeniable. “Yes.”

“You didn’t have to wait this long, but we won’t punish you for that. We’re patient men.”

“It only gave us more time to think of all the ways we’ll take you apart, sugar,” Curtis murmurs against your shoulder, then presses open-mouthed kisses against your hot skin there.

And then Ari is slipping his cock inside of your cunt, slow, insistent, and doesn’t stop until he’s into the hilt, pushing all the air out of your lungs. He’s so big it feels like he’s everywhere, and it takes you concentrating on making your lungs work again to suck in deep breaths, impossibly full of him.

But as full as you feel, it wasn’t everything. Because while Ari was slipping his cock inside you, Curtis had removed his fingers, and now his thick cock was splitting you open and finding room in a hole that had never been filled before, and it was unfamiliar pain, but already pressing into impossible pleasure, and really, you had to press your palms to the leather on either side of Ari’s head and focus on breathing and only breathing if you were going to survive this.

And then they both began to move.

In and out and in and out and inandout.

And you were sure you were going to black out or bliss out from how full you were and all the sensations surging through your body and –

read the next part: TAKING YOU HOME

I make no apologies for this. Send me your medical bills as needed.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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[csainzsgirly]

OMG I CANT BELIEVE YOU ARE BACK!!! Can I ask a drabble with fwb Lando (specifically the shirt pictures taken while the summer break) just like he and reader are on holiday with friends but nobody knows what happens behind closed doors?

Hi girly I'm so sorry for seeing this so late but here ya go <3

A sigh rolled over your lips as you turned to your other side, the thin sheet getting caught between your legs. You had slept for maybe two hours, but it had been enough. The burn of your hurting muscles made you hum softly, reminding you of the way he had bent you over the balustrade of the balcony barely three hours ago, muttering pure filth in your ear. "They should know how wet your little pussy is for me, darlin'," which had made your knees buckle as you drenched his cock with another orgasm. You were sure his fingerprints were visible on the back of your thighs from how hard he held you down and spread open for him when he took you back inside, his other hand covering your mouth to prevent everyone from hearing you, no matter how much he liked it when you moaned his name while he dragged his fat cock through your soaking walls.

Lando was still sleeping, but the warmth that pooled in your lower abdomen and the slick that started to cover the inside of your panties were burning you up from the inside, and you couldn't resist sitting up to straddle him. It was unfair how he didn't allow you to mark him, his chest still a bare canvas beneath you. It was unfair how he had prevented you from biting your teeth into his abs, silencing your whine in dismay by pushing his cock past your lips and twisting his fingers in your hair to force you down on his length till you were a drooling, spluttering mess - the way he loved to see you, and the way you loved to be for him. Lando shivered as your nails tickled his chest, the material of the shirt you were wearing, his white button-up, scraping along his stomach when your lips reached his neck.

He peaked at you through one eye, a grin lazily curling the corners of his mouth. His eyes sparkled as he took you in, sitting so prettily atop of him, causing his cock to stir in his boxers. Perky tits were covered by the white material, the sheer see-through white giving him a glimpse of your pink nipples, which he had much rather in his mouth now he had another look of them. Without saying anything you reached into his boxers, freeing his cock from the tight material and shoving your panties aside to sink down on him. You were impossibly wet, and his mind was spinning at the thought that his cum was still in you after he emptied his balls in your pussy last night.

"Fuck," he said, his eyebrows furrowing together as he could barely comprehend that you felt so good even though he had been buried inside you a couple of hours ago. "Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, hmm, pretty?" Lando muttered, watching your tits bounce in his face as you found a rhythm that had your toes curling. Footsteps in the hallway made you hold your breath for a second, your pace slowing down as you looked at the door. Lando took the opportunity to hold you down on him as he started to rut into you, making you muffle your moan by pushing your face in his pillow. "I know it turns you on that anyone can walk in now, because nobody knows you're here," he continues, riling you up, making you even wetter. "Nobody knows how good I'm fucking you."

The arrogance in his tone made you want to roll your eyes, but it's impossible to resist as he buries his cock deeply inside you, filling you up, stuffing you full and your mind turns into a mess. You vaguely remember you and Lando were supposed to meet your friends downstairs in like an hour, but the only thing you wanted, craved, desired was the orgasm he was about to give you. One of his hands slipped between your slick bodies, rough pads of his fingertips circling around your clit and making you squeeze around him. "That's it, that's my good girl," he praised, sliding his cock in and nearly out your cunt in a firm, controlled pace that made you tremble. The hot ropes of his cum against your walls tipped you over the edge, sending you into a searing state of bliss.

[percyluvr]

hi! can i request child of apollo reader with a cold/is sick x percy jackson who takes care of her lovingly even though theyre just friends? kind of like that lyric in apple cider "even if we're just friends, we could be more than that." thank u hehe!!

percy jackson x reader summary: you get the flu and percy takes care of you wc: 613

You told yourself that you would not, no, could not get sick. The number of campers coming into the infirmary was increasing daily, and you weren't sure why. It happened every year around the beginning of summer. Probably due to the influx of new campers, you thought.

But of course, whenever you promise yourself something, the exact opposite happens, and now, here you were in the Apollo cabin with your best friend, Percy, taking care of you.

When you had first gotten sick, you thought it was just some common cold, and thought it would be a little weird to have gotten a cold during the beginning of summer, you figured it was just due to the changing of the weather and you would be fine within a couple of days, but of course with your luck you had gotten one of the worst cases of the flu that any of your siblings in the Apollo cabin had ever seen.

You'd begged Percy to not try to take care of you, since he'd most likely get sick too, and it would be worse than you, since he wasn't an Apollo kid, but of course he wouldn't listen, insisting that he needed to take care of his poor best friend who was suffering so deeply, his words not yours. You begrudgingly accepted his help, because honestly, who can resist Percy Jackson when he's giving you puppy eyes? Not you, apparently.

"You wanna know what I think?" Percy says, breaking the small moment of silent before you inevitably cough up a lung again.

"Not really."

"Too bad. I think that you're sick because you overwork yourself all the time."

"I said I didn't want to know what you think."

"And I said too bad. Seriously, you need to stop overworking yourself, or you're going to keep getting sick like this. It's like, scientifically proven or something."

"Okay, whatever. You're not a doctor, I am. I think I know what's good for me."

"You think. Emphasis on think."

You roll your eyes, and Percy goes back to laying his head on your shoulder, which you had told him numerous times not to do.

"Percy, seriously. Stop getting your face so close to mine, you're going to get sick."

"I don't care. I want to be near you, and maybe my charm and good looks can help you feel better."

"Not how that works, but sure, if you say so."

"I do say so."

You roll your eyes for what feels like the six hundredth time, and put your arm around his shoulder.

When you begin to cough again, Percy jolts up and runs over to the cabin in the corner, getting out a large bag of cough drops. He picks your favorite flavor out, and grabs your water bottle. He then hands both of them to you.

"Hey, I kinda like you being sick." You raise an eyebrow. "Okay, stop. That's not what I mean. I just mean that I can finally be your personal nurse, and not the other way around. 'Cause you're always healing me, but I've never been able to help you back, and now I feel like I can."

"Aw, Percy, that's actually really sweet. I'm glad my suffering is making you happy."

He rolls his eyes in response and sits back down on the bed next to you.

"I know I'm sweet. I'm also going to ignore the other thing you said," he says, putting his arms around you and bringing you to lay your head down on his chest.

It doesn't take long before you're deeply sleeping and using his chest as a pillow while he gently strokes your hair.

[moonstruckme]

I've never requested before so I'm quite nervous but may I request something with a reader thats like usually very chatty when coming home from work but maybe someone at their job said something rude or they just feel to tired to talk? preferably with poly!marauders but i dont mind any characters, i love your writing and i hope you have a wonderful day :] no pressure to write this ofc

Thank you for requesting lovely and hope you have a wonderful day as well! <3

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 677 words

Eddie’s van is idling at the curb when your shift ends. He grins as you get in, swapping his cherry coke to the hand already holding his cigarette to wrap the one closest to you around your thigh. It’s a favored spot. You’re always thinking you ought to trace an outline of his fingers and get it tattooed with “Eddie’s place” inside as a lark, but he’d definitely enjoy it way too much. 

“Hey there,” he drawls, voice saccharine sweet and expectant as he leans across the console toward you. You peck him on the lips. 

“Hi,” you say back. “You taste like cherries.” 

His grin is crooked, goofy in that unabashedly lovesick way that makes your heart stutter. He holds up his cherry coke like he’s making a toast. “T’was the point. You want a sip?” 

“Yes, please.” You take it from him, letting the cool fizziness wash over your sandpaper tongue. You’ve been craving a drink since halfway through your shift, when you’re fairly sure you’d willed all the water out of your body so you wouldn’t cry in the break room. Poor forethought. 

The syrupy sweetness is comforting, familiar like Eddie and summer days and the lake. It makes you feel a bit more normal. You have to stop yourself from gulping it all down, dropping it in the cup coaster as Eddie stubs out his cigarette and puts the van into gear. 

It takes until the first stoplight for you to realize he’s not headed towards home. “Where’re we going?” you ask. 

“To the arcade. We’re meeting Dustin and them there, remember?” 

“Oh. Right.” You’d totally forgotten. At least Robin should be there. 

Eddie gives you a sidelong glance. “Work was good?” 

If you’re being honest with yourself, about 70% of it was totally fine. “Mhm.” 

He hums back at you, short and low. “Okay. What’s wrong?” 

“Hm?” you hum again, unable to help it. “Nothing, why?”

“Don’t play dumb.” He squeezes your thigh meanly, metal rings biting into your skin. “You always want to gossip after work. Something happened, yeah?” 

You toy with your bottom lip, looking out the window. You’re quiet long enough that Eddie gives your leg another warning squeeze. 

“Talk.” 

“It wasn’t really anything,” you say, honestly but forcing a bit more offhandedness into your tone than maybe you really feel. “A customer got all pissy with me because he thought something should be on sale and it wasn’t, but I’m not, like, still sad about it.” 

Eddie doesn’t take his eyes from the road, but his lips purse unhappily. “But you were, huh?” 

“I was,” you allow. “But I’m not anymore. I guess it just tired me out.” 

He glances your way, as if to be sure you’re telling the truth, and hums. “M’sorry, baby. Still down for the arcade, or do you just wanna go home?” 

“No, I’m good.” You wrap your hand around his forearm, running a path from his wrist to the crook of his elbow and back again. “I wanna see Robin. I can rally.” 

Eddie nods contemplatively. The steady rumbling of the van is the only sound for a few seconds, and then he says, “On a scale of one to ten, where are you right now?” 

You think about it for a few moments. “A four,” you decide. 

He nods again. “Okay. By the time we leave the arcade, we’re gonna have you at a six.” 

You grin at him. It’s already easier. Eddie sees out of the corner of his eye, quirking a brow like you’re being a dork but then slipping his hand from your thigh to intertwine your fingers from his. He brings the back of your hand to his mouth, kissing it wetly. You know he's content to sit in silence as long as you need, but you have one more thing to say.

“I feel like finishing off your coke would bring me up to a solid four-point-five,” you suggest hopefully. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth kicks up. “It’s all yours, sweet thing.”

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

HLC REACT TO SEEING MC AGAIN AFTER SUMMER BREAK

MC steps down from the Hogwarts Express on the Hogsmeade Platform. The birds singing they're departure south as the cooling fall air blows the leaves from the trees. MC takes a deep breath, it was good to be back.

Through the crowd of students filing out of the train, MC spots a familiar face. With a smile as big as their excitement, they charge their favorite friend.

~~~

Sebastian Sallow: He smiles. The few months of summer felt like a liftime, and letters would never do MC justice. He plays coy at first, letting MC do all the running for a hug, but he can't keep a straight face. He's just as enthusiastic and even spins them around if he can lift them. He laughs, "Missed me?"

Ominis Gaunt: He doesn't see them coming, but still manages to dodge their attack. He smirks when he hears MC hit the ground with a satisfying thump. "I missed you as well, MC. Please, don't run on the train platform. It's quite dangerous." He reaches out his hand for them to take.

Anne Sallow: She's just as pumped to see MC. She nearly runs over a first year getting to MC and locking herself in their embrace. She keeps hugging them, longer than what would be considered "normal". The embrace softens and they stand together until the groundskeeper has to shout to get them moving with the other students.

Imelda Reyes: She doesn't see MC, but when they attempt to grab her from behind, she slips out of their grasp and pins them against the train with enough force to nearly dent the metal train car. Her angry glare turns to immediate shock and she steps back. "MC!? Wha- WHY WOULD YOU SNEAK UP ON ME LIKE THAT!?" She catches MC as they slump away from the train, the wind knocked out of them. "Um...welcome back?"

Natsai Onai: She locks eyes with MC and meets them stride for stride. Her smile widens with every step and she hugs them as tight as possible. "I have missed you so much. It felt like summer would never end." Her hug is strong and warm and was the best way to come back to Hogwarts.

Garreth Weasley: He's pulling jellied lacewings out of his hair when MC approaches. "Merlin's blooming beard! These things have far more adhesive properties than i- oh, hello MC! Have a nice summer?" He goes to wave but his hair sticks to his fingers and yanks with own head sideways. "OW!"

Leander Prewett: He's talking to another friend when MC pounces. He's nearly knocked to the ground but finds his balance. "WHO-!?...MC?" His surprise immediately melts to awkward bashfulness. "MC why are you- that is, what are-...uh..." He doesn't know what to do. He never expected MC to miss him this much.

Amit Thakkar: He's trying to reclose his trunk for the 15th time. It keeps popping open from the amount of textbooks in it. He catches MC out of the corner of his eye and turns to them just in time for their hug. "MC! It's so good to see you!" He quickly ends the hug to pull out a book and give it to them. "Here, I found this study done on Ancient Magic. It wasn't taken seriously at the time of its publishing, but considering what happened last year... Maybe you'll find it useful."

Everett Clopton: He feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns and no one is looking at him. He feels a tap on his other shoulder. "Wha..?" He does a nearly full turnaround when he finally catches MC's cloak running around behind him. He turns around in the other direction, sharply and catches them. "HA! Gotcha!" He shares a sincere hug with them and pulls out a few dung bombs. "So, who shall we prank first?"

Poppy Sweeting: She sees them coming and hides in the sea of black robes, using her height to her advantage. She manages to take MC by surprise and hug them first. Her hiding and hunting skills would make any Kneazle proud. "If you thought you'd get to me first, you had another thing coming. Missed you too. Have you been as worried as I have been over the beasts in The Room? Deek is an incredibly capable elf, there were quite a few-" She's silenced by MC hugging her tighter.

[ebongawk]

13 for hellcheer, she asks anxiously

13. A Sorry Kiss

Her heart was in her throat when she knocked on his door.

She'd messed up. She'd messed up so bad. She'd been–– God, why did she do that? Why was she such a coward? How could she treat him like that? Like he was–– Like he was a stranger. And, oh God, the hurt in his eyes had nearly broken her heart. Hurt that she had caused.

Hurt she wasn't sure she could fix.

The minute or so it took Eddie to finally answer the door made her want to scream. Or cry. Or run away.

But her cowardice had already caused Eddie pain today. She couldn't–– She wouldn't do it again.

When the door did finally creak open, Chrissy could have sobbed with relief.

The cold, even expression he wore seemed intent on wiping that relief against the wooden floors, however.

"Figured that was you," he said, leaving the door open behind him as he turned away. Disappearing back around the corner of his apartment toward the kitchen.

Chrissy toed her sneakers off in the hallway, even though Eddie always told her it wasn't necessary. Old habits die hard.

She'd proven that today.

Maybe that was the problem, though. Maybe those habits never really died of natural causes. Maybe they had to be killed. Maybe she hadn't tried hard enough to kill those pieces of her past for him. Or maybe she had, but she was so covered in scar tissue that they echoed up from her infinity, regardless.

Silence was settled over the space of his apartment. Infiltrating every available square inch with a pressing weight Chrissy was so unaccustomed to here. Normally, the little home Eddie had carved out for himself in this corner of Chicago was full of light and color and noise. Music or television or just Eddie himself, giving life to his endless stream of conscious thought that he was completely unafraid to voice.

Chrissy was the only one who held fear so close to their chest, it seemed.

If there'd been any doubt that she had hurt him, it was dispelled the moment she found the courage to patter her way into the kitchen. Because he didn't offer her a drink or a snack. He didn't look at her. All she was afforded was the stretch and retraction of his muscles as he put the dishes in the dish drain away.

Dishes they'd washed together just the night before. A byproduct of having cooked together, because she found it so much easier to eat when Eddie was there encouraging her to taste the creation they'd conjured up together.

It was always delicious.

She needed to tell him how much those meals meant to her. How much he meant to her. Even if she hadn't portrayed that in the slightest today.

"Eddie?"

He said nothing. Didn't even turn toward her to let her know he was listening. He just continued dropping silverware into the drawer, clearly taking his time with every individual piece.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

"Can, um. Can we please talk?"

"Not real sure what you could possibly have to say to me, Cunningham." He snorted as she wilted like a crushed flower. Because Cunningham.

He hadn't called her Cunningham since the day after they met again. His stream of pet names for her had seemed endless, and she delighted in each new one he bestowed upon her. Collecting them like little trophies to display on the shelf of her mind.

"Considering, y'know, you don't know me and all."

Gosh. Gosh. Nuggets, she'd messed up. She was–– She was awful, wasn't she? The worst type of person.

She was exactly what her mother wanted her to be. Which was especially ironic, considering she hadn't spoken to her mother in nearly a year.

Eddie stumbled back into her life on the cusp of summer break three-and-a-half months prior. She'd just taken a new job at a little used bookstore a few blocks away from campus. Within walking distance of her dorm, which was perfect since she didn't have a car and had no intention of going home for a three-month nightmare.

He'd burst into that cramped little shop like a windstorm, ripping the breath from her lungs and stilling the heart in her chest.

She knew him, of course. Everyone from Hawkins knew Eddie Munson.

She just didn't expect him to be here, of all places. In Chicago. Miles from home after essentially disappearing as soon as he had his diploma.

With no other customers to entertain, they ended up walking around the store together, Eddie picking out new-to-him paperbacks as he told her how he'd ended up in the Windy City. How he'd moved there with a member of his band, how they were trying to get their music off the ground with half their instrumentals. How he'd been working as a mechanic – citing prior experience, which was a little factoid Chrissy clung to like rubber cement – and moonlighting at a bar a few weekends a month.

In the end, Eddie bought eight new books, Chrissy wrote her number on the back of the receipt so they could catch up, and thus started the most incredible romance story anyone in history had ever experienced. At least, from her perspective, that had to be the case.

They just... They just fit. In that way that didn't happen, not outside of romcoms and books. Yet, as different as they were on the outside, they managed to fold seamlessly into each other's lives. Two vines that had been growing congruently, just awaiting the moment they could finally entangle.

It was the best summer of Chrissy's life. There was no comparison. She could write entire novels about how perfect it had been. She'd actually started one.

And then school started up again. Chrissy resumed her schedule with her new classes, and she and Eddie didn't get to see each other as often. That didn't stop her from doodling his name in the margins of her notes, of course. Didn't stop her from daydreaming about him – about the way his fingers easily strummed the strings of his guitar as he showed her the new songs he'd been writing; the way his lips curled into a smile when he said her name, like he couldn't contain the joy of calling for her; the way he laughed, big and open and honest, when she said something coy or cheeky that he hadn't been expecting.

It was amidst one of these daydreams, in fact, that she had the misfortune of stumbling upon a small group of people she recognized.

Other people from Hawkins.

People like Carol Perkins and Tommy Harold and Melissa Thompson. Mean people, gossipy people. People who had parents that Chrissy knew, because they attended the same church she had her entire life.

She'd hoped they wouldn't say anything. Wouldn't see her. Would simply let her pass by, a blip on their radars of near-familiarity.

But her hair was distinct. Carol made fun of the color constantly, all through elementary school. Told her she had copper hair, like pennies, because her family was first-generation rich, whatever that meant.

(Eddie loved her hair. Told her it was gorgeous every time he ran his fingers through it. That it'd been woven together by sirens who couldn't decide on one color, so they picked everything warm.)

"Oh, my gosh!" Melissa shouted, her voice pitched so high it scraped against Chrissy's inner ears. "Is that Chrissy Cunningham?"

They wouldn't know she'd chosen Chicago because they graduated a year earlier than she did. And, in that lovely gap year, Chrissy had forgotten it was their school of choice, as well.

"Well, well, well," Carol said with a smirk as she smacked her gum. Another old habit that refused to give way to the passage of time. "What's Miss Penny Loafer doing here?"

That rude elementary school nickname still made her want to crawl out of her own skin. Made her want to bleach her hair.

She should have told them to fuck off, like Eddie would have. She should have turned and walked away. Instead she stood there, stuck to the pavement like the soles of her shoes had melted beneath the September sun.

Tommy chastised Carol's crassness with an arm thrown loosely around her shoulders, and the way his eyes roved over Chrissy had her stomach churning.

Don't look at me, she wanted so desperately to say. Only Eddie gets to look at me.

And then, like she'd conjured him from her deepest desires, he was suddenly there. Calling her name from across the street, waving a half-bouquet of daisies that he'd almost definitely picked from the school's garden. Surprising her. Because they didn't get to see each other that much. Because he wanted to see her.

Eddie.

She couldn't say his name. Couldn't rush to his side, or step between him and Tommy's disgusted disbelief as he said, "Ew, what the hell? Is that the Freak?"

"D-Don't––"

Don't call him that.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Carol asked, revulsion lacing every word. "Chrissy, do you know this asshole?"

But, oh God. Oh, God. What if they said something to their parents about this? What if...

What if word gets back to my mom? That I'm seeing Eddie?

Someone she would recognize.

Someone she would hate.

What if she––?

"Hey, toots," Eddie said as he walked up, critical eyes jumping between Carol, Tommy and Melissa. Narrowed in distaste, Eddie pursed his lips. "Damn. Wasn't expecting a high school reunion today. I would've whipped out my Sunday best."

"Kinda hard to have a reunion with us, Freak," Tommy spat in response. "Since, you know, you failed to graduate in our class."

Eddie just grinned. Easy and confident in that way that she loved, even as her entire body stayed motionless and rigid beside him.

"Well," Eddie shrugged, "We don't all have mommies that are willing to pull, uh, special favors for our grades, now do we, Thomas?"

Tommy's expression immediately fell cold, and he took a menacing step toward Eddie for regurgitating the Harold's worst-kept rumor.

"Oh, fuck you, Munson––"

"Sorry, pal, you're not really my type."

"Wait," Melissa said, her finger dancing between Eddie and Chrissy. "Wait. Are you guys, like...?" She twisted her pointer and middle fingers together, eyebrows raised. Both Carol and Tommy's faces twisted with abhorrence.

Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Uh, ye––"

"No," Chrissy answered immediately. Taking a half-step away from Eddie. Refusing to look at him. "No, um. We–– I barely know him."

The quiet that followed threatened to drown her. To climb down her throat and suffocate her from the inside.

But it was Eddie's half-broken, "Chris...?" that finally pulled her eyes to his.

In the three months they'd been together, Chrissy had borne witness to a lot of Eddie's faces. Happiness shined brightest in her memory, but concentration, frustration, annoyance, contentedness – they'd all flicked over his expression at one point or another.

This was none of those.

This was pure, absolute devastation.

It was so brief, Chrissy almost prayed she misread him. It was like, from one second to the next, he went from absolutely heartbroken to cold and aloof. Affixing that same easy smile, but it was bare of anything behind it. Lips twisting up in a sneer, Eddie gave another easy shrug.

"Got it," he said, giving her an easy salute. She hoped, she hoped, that he really did understand. That he could read her mind, that he knew why she'd so callously denied what they had together.

And then, as he hopped the curb to cross the street, he threw those daisies into the road. Scattering their stems, letting them succumb to the tires of passing cars.

She felt her heart among those flowers, muscle bleeding across the pavement as tires tracked through her blood.

Because she knew, then and there, that she'd messed up. That she needed to repair the hurt she'd caused.

She begged off from Carol and Tommy with some bullshit excuse, sprinted to her dorm to unload her books, and then booked it to the nearest bus so she could get to Eddie.

Now, here he was. Rightfully angry. She suspected it was a thin layer of anger, haphazardly smeared over the top of the sea of hurt she'd caused. The light from a lighthouse bouncing beams off the ocean, shielding the shadows from view.

"Can I––?"

"Why are you even here, Cunningham?" Eddie asked, fury wrapped around every syllable, every letter of his sentence. It struck her in the chest, each word volleyed out like it'd been specifically designed to thrust that hurt right back into her arms. "Crawling back to the source of your shame?"

"I'm not––"

"Don't fucking lie to me," Eddie hissed, finally, finally turning toward her. Speaking so harshly, in a way he never had with her. And she–– She nearly withered under his stony glare. Nearly fell to her knees and cried and begged him to see, to see her. But she couldn't. She couldn't. Right now, more than ever, she needed to be strong. She needed him to understand more than he saw. "You were standing there with two of the worst fucking people to ever live in our shitty hometown, and you lied to them to save your own goddamn image. So don't pretend this means fuck all to you, alright?"

"Eddie, no––"

"So why don't you skip your way back to your little popularity bubble, huh? Won't you be happier among the bullshit and sparkles?"

"Listen to me," she said, as firmly as she was capable. Realizing, now, just how deep the wound went. How it wasn't her alone that caused him to bleed. How she'd simply scraped the scab off something older, something that festered beneath the surface of his confidence.

She could see it now. It was in her own stomach, peeled back for the world to see the moment Carol called her Penny Loafer.

Eddie, face still twisted with exasperation, at least took a moment to be quiet for her.

"I am not ashamed of you," Chrissy said. Eddie scoffed, but she pressed on before he could speak. "I'm not. Eddie, I–– You're the best part of me, okay? And I––"

The tears she'd been burying all day finally reared up. Filling her eyes, blurring him before her, and she watched the way he shifted. Hoped, prayed it was him wanting to reach for her, but stopping himself. She was so desperate to salvage this, to explain, that it took another moment for the words to finally get out.

"I was so afraid," she explained around the trembling lump in her throat, "that they'd–– If I told them about us, about you, they'd tell everyone else, and eventually, eventually, she––"

Screwing her eyes shut, the hot tears tracked down her cheeks faster than she could possibly wipe them away.

"She'd find out," Chrissy sobbed, hands coming up and wrapping around her throat, "and she'd take you away from me."

"Who?"

"My mom," Chrissy wailed, scrubbing at her eyes, but the tears just kept coming, and this wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she was distraught when she was the one who caused the hurt. Why was she like this? Why was she such a baby?

"Chrissy. How the fuck would she take me away from you when you don't even speak to her?"

She'd told him. Of course she had. How else could she explain her issues with food? Her issues with her face? Her body? Her self?

"I don't know!" Chrissy cried, and she felt Eddie suddenly in front of her, his heat rolling off his body. It took so much strength to step away, to deny his comfort. But she didn't deserve it. "But every time–– E-Every time I've ever been happy, even a little bit happy, she swoops in and she takes it. And, God, Eddie, I've never been so happy as when I'm with you. I-I can't lose that, I can't let her––"

Suddenly, before she could once again back away, she felt the sure safety of Eddie's arms as they came around her. Pulling her against his chest, his heart, and holding her there as she cried. Why was he doing this? Why was he comforting her after what she'd done? Why was he the one taking care of her when she'd discarded him as easily as a half-bouquet of daisies in the road?

"Sweetness," Eddie murmured, his voice far too forgiving. "I'm not going anywhere. Alright? She can't take me from you. You're in a different city in a different fucking state, and she has no idea where you or I live. You're safe from her. I'm gonna keep you safe, alright?"

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

Hands sprawled against his chest, Chrissy tried to push away. To squirm out of his arms, because she didn't deserve for him being kind right now. She was supposed to be comforting him, telling him she'd take out an article in the Hawkins Post. Tell everyone they were together, consequences be damned.

Instead, he was walking her over to his small couch, every second with his arms around her chasing her demons further and further into the recesses.

"I'm sorry," she cried as he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. "I'm sorry, Eddie, I'm so sorry. I-I just want to keep you, I swear, I just want to keep you."

"I know," Eddie mumbled into her hair, the words softened against her scalp. "I know, baby. I'm sorry, too. For, uh, jumping to conclusions. For–– For forgetting, I guess, that you––"

"No." Chrissy shook her head, sniffling as she used her sweater to wipe as much of the wet on her cheeks away as she could. "No, don't–– Don't apologize. I'm the one who messed up––"

"I was being a dick––"

"With good reason––"

"We can both fuck up, toots," he said, bringing his thumbs up to gently brush away the escaping tears from beneath her eyes. "We can both let our scars get the best of us sometimes, y'know? It doesn't have to be just you or just me."

"But you wouldn't have killed my flowers if I hadn't been so... so mean."

Eddie cringed around an awkward chuckle, filling her eyes with that warm, dimpled smile. Making her want to melt onto him, into him, until they were fused as one.

"Yeah, uh. That may have been my dramatic side." Blowing out a raspberry, Eddie rolled his eyes at himself. "I fuckin' hate Tommy H., though, I can't be held accountable for what I do around that guy."

"You hate everyone."

"Not you," he assured her, brushing her hair back over one ear and cupping her cheek in his palm. "Never you, peaches, I swear."

Turning her face into his hand, Chrissy kissed his palm. Then, bringing her own hands up to his face, she pulled him into a soft, slow kiss. Trying to convey her apology, then letting it slip up from her lungs anyway when the quiet didn't feel like enough.

"I'm sorry."

She kissed him again, and Eddie groaned, lingering for a long moment before pulling far enough away to say:

"I'm sorry."

Grinning into the next kiss, Chrissy let her tongue dart out to taste his upper lip. Turning her head when he chased her with another, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry," Eddie said again after a quick peck.

"I'm sorry," Chrissy repeated when they were forced to break apart for air. Gasping, she said, "I'm sorry, Eddie, I love you."

She didn't have time to gauge his reaction to this new admittance. All at once, she was engulfed. In kiss and embrace, she was enveloped in Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

"I love you," he groaned for the first time, the words like ancient music. A song she remembered from a past life bubbling up to the surface after laying dormant for decades and millennia.

Never new. Always Eddie.

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"'m soloverry."

"Eddie, that's not––" He kissed her again, and she laughed. She laughed, after everything. He made her laugh. "Not a word!"

"Is now." He grinned, and she could taste his happiness. "Soloverry, sweetness."

Chrissy kissed him, standing atop all that fear and uncertainty a thousand daisies in her heart.

"Soloverry, Eddie Munson."

(a very late) kiss prompt!

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Sexy Sailor

steddie, omegaverse, halloween, mdni 🔞

“Oh my god, how did I miss this!? You’ve gotta wear it for me, Stevie! Please?” Eddie grabs the polaroid off Robin’s cork board.

“No, Eddie. One summer was enough. Besides, I don’t even have it anymore.”

“It’s just not fuckin’ fair! I have the hottest omega in Indiana, and I never got to enjoy the magic of him dressed as a hot little sailor. C’mon, puppy! I bet your ass looked amazing in those shorts!”

“My ass looks amazing in everything.”

“Your ass looks amazing whether it is constrained by fabric or not, sweetheart.”

“Then we can drop this train of thought. Robin will kill you if she has to hear about how hot you think the work uniforms from our shitty summer job were.”

“I mean, we could always roleplay…”

“No.”

Robin gets back then, laden with snacks from her mother so they can get down to brass tacks and plan their costumes for Halloween.

👻🧟🧙‍♀️

Robin getting a girlfriend ruins Steve’s costume plans. Because Chrissy wants to show Robin off, and Steve can’t blame Robin for saying yes. But he also cannot go as one of the twins from The Shining if he doesn’t have his match. And Eddie’s already going werewolf.

Which sends Steve to buy a costume last minute, picking from the dregs of what is left. There is one costume still in his size, and at least he’s gonna get well and truly laid after the party

👻🧟🧙‍♀️

Eddie gets off work late and has to meet Steve at the Halloween party. He changes into his costume in the restroom at Thatcher’s, then breaks a few traffic laws to get to the party before he’s even later.

He runs into Chrissy first, so bouncy in her Raggedy Anne costume, and she tells him Steve and Robin just ran to the kitchen to grab new drinks. Eddie knows he could wait, but he doesn’t want to be away from Steve any longer than necessary. Thanking Chrissy, he makes his way back to the kitchen and is greeted by the most glorious sight.

It may not be the Scoops Ahoy uniform, but it shows off his boyfriend’s assets to perfection. Eddie slips up behind him, arms snaking around his waist. “Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against his ear, pushing out his scent to make it clear he isn’t a stranger.

Steve leans back into him, grinning as Eddie nuzzles against his neck. “Hey, puppy, how was work?”

“Who cares? Here now, with you.” The surprise of the outfit, coupled with Steve rubbing back against him has Eddie half-hard, and he is very seriously considering leaving the party now.

Steve turns in his arms, smirking at his rushed creature makeup, then guiding their mouths together. “You gonna be okay?” he asks with a smirk.

“Give me a minute… But we might have to go home early.”

“No, we’re staying until Rob and Chris are ready to go.” His tone is stern, but Steve is still smiling.

“But you’re so hot, puppy! Just wanna taste you, maybe flip your little skirt up…have you present.” Saliva pools under his tongue, made all the worse by his fake werewolf fangs, and drool escapes from the corners of his mouth.

“I didn’t think you’d be *this* into the outfit, Eds,” Steve says, sounding flattered, maybe even blushing a little, but it’s hard to tell because the lights are so dim.

“I’m into you always, but this has been in the masturbation rotation all month.”

Steve pulls back and makes a judgmental face. “You need better fantasies.”

“I can only jerk it to your panties so many—”

“Shut up.” Steve tugs him close and quiets them both with a hard kiss, running his tongue along Eddie’s pointy werewolf teeth and moaning.

They will definitely be talking about that later, but for now Eddie allows himself to melt into kissing his omega.

When they leave, Steve is out of his panties as soon as they make it to the van, and Eddie fingers him the whole way home.

[chigirisprincess]

⠀ ︶︶ 　 ˚ ᡴꪫ Summertime Sadness

— Wanderer

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, gn!reader, situationship, love confessions, Wanderer is referred to as "Kuni" short for Kunikuzushi. ⊹ Run time. 1.0k ⊹ Note. A little gift fic for @kokonoiis for the exchange hosted within the House of Solis Occasum. Hope you like it!

The Sumeru summer heat hangs thickly in the air even as night has crept over the horizon. The Akademyia’s libraries were unbearable. Humidity soaked through your clothes and clung to your skin. It’s sticky embrace following you throughout the barren aisles of ancient tomes and long forgotten research papers. Your shoes clicked against the slick tile with each step. Your pacing does little to stifle the discomfort and absolute boredom that prickles at your stress-addled mind. 

“Can you stop that!” Kuni snaps, his voice echoing across the empty library. 

From across the room, you can see the scowl lines deeply etched into his face. A sigh passes through his lips as he buries his head into his hands.You think a small and quick apology is uttered beneath his breath but it may have been your mind playing tricks on you. Bouncing on the balls of your feet for a moment, you hesitate to take a step toward him.

“Maybe you should take a break,” you call, tucking your hands behind your back, “It's half past two in the morning, surely the rest of this paper can wait until you’ve rested?”

You don’t have to look directly at him to know his scowl has been directed towards you. His frustrated gaze pierces your skin. A small voice in the back of your head reminds you that Kuni is upset with you, he’s just overworked. That’s why you asked.

“It’s due in two days.”

The closer you draw, the more apparent his dark circles become. You bite your lip in worry. He always overworked himself. 

“I thought you were just editing it?”

His bottom lip wobbles like he wants to snarl. You were right. Though he wouldn’t admit that. His pride was too strong.

“Come on, let's get some fresh air and rest,” you murmur, reaching your hands out to grab his, “I’ll even make you some green tea and omurice, I’ve nearly perfected it from the recipe you gave me!”

Your pleading eyes must work because Kuni sighs and begins to gather his things. Clapping your hands together, you turn towards the exit. The thought of fresh evening air on your skin was delightful. Peeking over your shoulder, you watch Kuni’s haggard movements. He languidly gathers his papers together, even the ones he said he was going to discard, and tucks them into his satchel just as a yawn eats away at him. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes, and Kuni harshly rubs them away with a frown.

“I’d hardly call the air fresh,” he murmurs, slinking beside you, “It’s so hot here, even at night.”

Slipping his hand into yours, Kuni sighs as you lead him out of the library, “Do you miss Inazuma?” He shrugs his shoulders, squinting a bit from the bright street lights that blind him, “I miss it, now that the borders are open maybe we can visit home someday.”

Kuni gives you a half coherent mumble of what you think is agreement.

You smile at those still roaming the streets, many of them heading home after closing down their shops for the day. They offer a smile back to you and him.

“I don’t want to go home yet.”

His deep plum eyes are trained ahead, his thoughts swimming somewhere in the distance. He keeps walking, past your apartment, and through the city. The noise of Sumeru’s bustling nightlife fades into a small buzz that’s swallowed up by the soothing waves that crash into the port. The air’s a bit lighter here, salt dances on its breeze, and reminds you of the days in which you ran around Ritou carelessly.

“We can sit for a bit, if you want.”

Kuni nods and allows you to bring him to the pier. Light bounces off the inky abyss of the ocean, it mesmerizes your sleep addled mind. The wooden dock creaks as you plop down onto it to untie your shoes and roll up the hem of your pants. You sigh in relief as you dip your feet into the water, leaning back on your elbows to watch Kuni.

He pensively stares at the ocean in silence.

In the months that you’ve known you, you’re unsure if you could ever truly get a good read on him. He kept his past well hidden and didn’t much speak about his upbringing. You’re sure if you had not also been raised in Inazuma you may not have known anything about him, other than his vocation at the Akademiya.

He crosses his legs as he sits beside you, turning his gaze toward you.

“You know I’m really glad I met you,” you confess, offering him a smile, “I think I’d be really lonely here without you. It’s hard being so far away from, well, everything I’ve ever known.”

“I love you.” He says it suddenly, his gaze unwavering and intense. You feel yourself begin to shrivel beneath it in shock.

You didn’t know if you’d call this thing you had with Kuni dating. Sure, you kissed a few times here and there, went out on a few dates, and spent more time than you had with anyone else at the Akademiya, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. You weren’t his either. Friend, maybe, but lover? You weren’t sure, even if you did things that most would constitute as grounds for you two being a couple.

“I-”

“You don’t have to say it back,” he interrupts, his face warm and flushed beneath the pale moonlight, “I just wanted you to know.”

“I was going to say, I think I love you too.”

Kuni frowns, “You think?”

“Yeah,” you shrug nervously, “I’ve never been in love before, I don’t know how it's supposed to feel.”

Resting his head on your shoulder, Kuni sighs, “I think it feels like this.”

You rest your head on top of his, looking out into the water, your heart swelled up in your chest and blood rushed past your ears. Maybe it did feel like this.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

networks: @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[honeytama]

Make Your Move - Chapter 1

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Matt Dierkes

Fic Masterlist

A/N: Very excited to begin my first long fic! Enjoy <3 I'd love to know what you think. I have an idea of how long it will be, but maybe I’ll have more ideas as we go on.

Fic Summary: Having known Matt for a year already, he knows your talents and hires you as his assistant for Bad Omens' upcoming tour. You’ve had a crush on Matt, your friend, and now boss. However, his good friend and your celebrity crush, Noah, takes a liking to you the second you step through the door. What happens when your feelings develop? What happens when they find out? You only hope your heart doesn’t break trying to care for two others.

Content and Warnings for Ch. 1: Fluff, mention of sex toys/masturbation, all of my works are 18+ only

Word Count: 2.7k

Matt called the other day.

“Y/N, do you happen to have plans from June 3rd to July 7th?” He asked.

You remember him asking you, but at that moment you didn’t even process what he had said before responding, “Whatever you need, I’m all yours!”.

You rolled your eyes at yourself. He was cocky, overly flirtatious, and arrogant some of the time, but he had an effect on you that didn’t waver.

You wanted every moment to be around him and didn’t consider the amount of responsibility he would put on you in the upcoming months.

It’s the beginning of April and you agreed to be Matt’s assistant tour manager on Bad Omen’s summer tour. Their full tour route has already been posted online and fans could begin buying tickets by the end of the week.

Today, you have to meet with Matt and the band for the first time to discuss tour logistics. Tour production, mixing, and lighting were nothing new to you, but you'd never gone on the road before, let alone with a band you'd never met… in person, at least. You're a Bad Omens fan– big time.

Matt and you have known each other for a year having met while you were on a walk. His dog, Zeus, had got off-leash and sauntered on toward you. It was fate the way the world brought him to you. He thanked you for grabbing Zeus’ collar before noticing your Bad Omens merch.

“I like your shirt,” he nodded at your chest with a smirk.

“You're their tour manager,” you said with wide eyes.

“Among other things,” he smiled.

The man had you wrapped around his finger starting that day.

You two exchanged numbers and have been hanging out and talking ever since. It was your favorite to go on walks with him and his dogs when he was home from tour. He flirted with you and with every hand touch and compliment it made your affection for him grow. However, you knew he was a ladies' man and decided to keep your feelings secret early on.

Now, he’s your boss.

—

The walk from your car to the door of the studio felt a mile long. The beat of your heart thumped in your ears as you thought about how your first meeting would go.

Would they like you? Would you do well or make a fool of yourself? Would they notice you had a crush on Matt? Will they just think you're his puppy to play with on tour?

These thoughts made your stomach lurch and nearly convinced you to dial Matt to call in sick.

Nevertheless, you wanted to prove yourself to them, so you put on your best smile and turned the door knob.

You were immediately met with a packed room and heads turning to meet you.

“There she is!” Matt exclaims while leaning against the long mixing console. “Everyone, this is Y/N. My new assistant.”

“Hell knows you needed one,” Folio gets up from the couch on the side of the room and goes to shake your hand.

“I’m Nick,” he points to another guy in the corner in a rolly chair, “he’s Nick, too. So, it’s ok for you to call me Folio.”

Nick, Nicholas Ruffilo as you know him, gives you a smile and a small wave before returning to his laptop screen.

“That’s Jolly,” Folio points to a rugged man sitting on the rug on the floor next to the coffee table.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he smiles.

“And this is Noah,” Folio walks over to Noah and pats his shoulder.

“Hey,” he waves.

How can he be even hotter in person? You thought.

Being a fan of the band already, you had already attached their names to their faces, and Noah’s was your favorite. You thought he was attractive and started to develop a bit of a celebrity crush on him when you discovered the band, but once Matt came into the picture you thought it best to ogle over someone tangible. Now, Noah is really in front of you and you hope your fan feelings won’t make things complicated.

“Nice to meet you guys. I’m such a fan,” you say, professionally.

“Oh! You’re a fan! Matt, you picked a good one,” Folio grins.

You make your way across the room toward Matt to hug him. You couldn’t help feeling eyes on you from the direction of the couch, but your conscience convinces you to ignore it.

Matt embraces you before telling you to take a seat in the rolly chair beside him.

“Alright, my friends,” he claps. “Now that we’re all here, we have a lot to do. Y/N, I sent you our to-do list, mind getting that out for me?” Matt nods toward the laptop in your tote bag.

“You’re already giving orders? It’s day zero,” Nick whines.

“Treat her like an equal, man,” Noah is lighthearted, but his face says “Don’t do this right now”.

“Guys, I’m kidding,” Matt groans and pulls out his phone. “Ok, so we need to source crew, talk to management about who else is on the bill, create video wall graphics, arrange a setlist, mix intros for each track in the setlist… plus lots and lots of other shit.”

You smile across the room to Noah and mouth, “Thank you”.

He winks at you before looking down at his notebook and beginning to take note of Matt’s list.

Matt continues, “Noah, do you want to finalize the setlist? We can work on some other stuff while you get that done.”

“Actually,” he raises his head from his notebook to make eye contact with you, “I would love to have Y/N’s opinion on what I have so far.” He faces Matt, “She’s a fan and it would be nice to have some insight from someone else who enjoys our music.”

“I like that idea,” Matt agrees.

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” you say excitedly. Time to prove yourself, you thought.

“Sweet,” Noah says. He gets up from the couch with his notebook and pen in hand. “We can go out to the patio,” he nods his head at the back door of the studio.

You grab your tote and fix your outfit before following Noah to the door that he so chivalrously holds open for you.

“After you,” he smiles. “Let’s take a seat on the bench.”

The atmosphere completely changes as you can hear birds chirping and cars driving down the nearby highway. The back patio is covered with a finished, wooden awning and it faces a small yard with deep green grass and vines that trail up the fence surrounding the studio. Being here with Noah, alone, it felt like a dream.

You take a seat next to Noah with around two feet in between you. Your heart flutters watching him flip through the pages of his notebook as his hair falls into his eyes.

“There it is,” he announces as he tucks his hair behind his ear, only for it to fall again to his temple.

Noah hands you his notebook and on the open page is a list of songs. Some of them are scratched out and then rewritten, while others have question marks next to them.

“I hope you can read my handwriting,” he says sheepishly.

“I like your handwriting,” you smile, hoping to ease him. Why was he nervous? You thought.

You read aloud,

“Artificial Suicide,

Nowhere to Go,

V.A.N,

Glass Houses,

The Grey,

Never Know,

Limits,

IDWT$,

Like a Villain,

Just Pretend,

The Death of Piece of Mind,

Concrete Jungle,

and Dethrone.”

“This is perfect,” you gush. “The fans will love this show. I know I will.”

Your praise earns you a toothy smile from him. “Are you sure there is nothing you would change? You can be critical. I can take it,” he leans in urging you to say anything.

“You–,” you blush, “you forgot to add my favorite song.”

“What’s your favorite?” He’s still so close to you, yearning to hang onto every word you say.

You reach across his lap to pull the pen out of his hand. His gaze follows your hand to his notebook. The pen is brought to the page of setlist ideas and at the very bottom, you scribble If I’m There.

Noah laughs and rubs the tops of his thighs. “Really?”

Taken aback by his reaction, “‘Yes! What do you mean, ‘really’?”

“Hey,” he smiles with his hands up, “it’s a great song. I know the fans love it…” He holds up his forefinger, “But, one, we haven’t played it live in forever.” He holds two fingers to you and laughs, “Two, you put it as the third encore after Dethrone.”

You laugh along with him. “Fine, no If I’m There for the fans I guess,” you tease. “I just was thinking about when you and Jolly did an acoustic live stream during quarantine and played it. The song means a lot to me and your voice sounds amazing in it, of course,” you admit.

Noah bites his lip and fixes a steady gaze on your eyes. “Thank you, that means a lot. Maybe you’ll share with me what it means to you sometime?”

“Sure,” you nod.

“How about, when we’re on the road and you’re feeling down,” he looks off to the yard, “you say the word and I’ll play the song for you.”

“Just for me?”

“Just for you.”

“Why?”

“I want to sing it again; the song means a lot to me, too,” he looks to you.

–

“Matt,” you call out, “am I going to be feeling down when we're on the road?”

It was now almost two months later and the first show of the summer is in two days. This morning, Matt is over at your apartment helping you pack for your first tour trip. You have to leave to meet everyone at the tour bus to pack everything up and head out by noon.

“Feeling down,” he pauses, “like, sad? Where’d you hear that?” He comes out of your restroom with your travel bottles and extra toiletries in his arms.

“It was a passing comment that Noah made when we first met. I’ve been thinking about it ever since,” you look down at your suitcase on the bed.

“I’m sure he didn't mean to freak you out. But,” he opens up your mini bag to set everything inside, “yeah, it can get lonely.”

“Aw, you get lonely?” you tease. “Then, I’m glad I’ll have my best friend on the road with me,” you smile at him.

“Yeah, me too,” he smiles back at you, “Noah and I are going to be hanging out a lot.”

“Fuck off”, you flick the brim of his hat. Letting out a sigh, you ask, “Do you think I have everything I need?”

“Lemme see…” He hunches over your suitcase and rummages through the piles of clothes. It’s a minute later that you realize that he’s probably putting his hands all over your underwear. “Y/N.”

“What?” You ask. He’s still hunched over, unwavering. “Matt, what is it?” You repeat urgently.

“What are– Why do you have these?” He turns around to you holding your palm-sized vibrator in his left hand and your pink, five-inch dildo in his right.

“Matt!” You reach forward trying to grab them, but he pulls back. “Oh, my God!”

“You can’t bring these!” He yells waving around your personal items.

“I can do whatever I want! Give them back!” Your cheeks feel red hot as you try to reach for your things being held above his head.

He looks down at you with fire in his maple eyes. “You’re going to be staying on the bus with us. When did you think you were going to use these?” He laughs, and you hate it when he’s right. Honestly, you questioned why you even bothered to pack them, too.

“None of your business, Matt,” you huff letting your arms down, defeated. “I just thought, like, what if we got hotel rooms at some point during the tour and I could blow off some steam.”

“And, you thought that you’d get a room to yourself?” Matt laughs, annoyingly. He hands you the toys and you throw them into the bag in frustration.

“I have to room with you boys the entire month?” You whine. “How am I supposed to change my clothes?”

“You’ll have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable,” he shrugs his shoulders. “I don't mind if you change in front of me,” Matt smirks.

“You would like that, huh?” You jab.

“Y/N, watching you change would be my favorite show; better than any Bad Omens set, and I’m great at my job,” he taunts.

“You’re gross,” you scoff.

“You love me,” Matt relaxes on your bed.

He’s right, you think.

–

The sun was out again outside of the studio. You reminisce about spending time with Noah on the patio two months ago, and there were only a couple of days you spent alone time with him since then. Each time, you try to brush off the sense of guilt you have when Noah looks at you with his almond eyes; Matt is still unaware of the celebrity crush you had on his friend. Even though Matt isn't yours, you still liked and knew him first and it made it feel wrong to give Noah the attention you did.

Though, there’s no time to focus on that now. Today is your first official day of being Matt’s assistant and assistant tour manager for Bad Omens.

You met everyone: crew, the other touring band, Bad Omens, and Matt outside of the studio where the tour trailers and buses were parked. With your suitcase by your side, you kept track of everything on your iPad. You instructed where everyone was meant to be by the first show day and took inventory of all gear kept in the trailers.

And then after forty-five minutes of organization, everyone was ready to load onto the buses.

“Alright,” Matt calls out, “crew and our other band, you'll be in the first bus. My guys and Y/N, we’ll be in the second. Decide on your sleeping arrangements. Let’s go.”

“You ready?” Folio comes to your side.

“Yeah, I’m excited,” you answer.

With that, you load onto the second bus, and you’re astonished at the sight before you.

The bus is long. There’s a kitchenette with cabinets as you enter and a TV hanging above the entrance of the bus. After the kitchenette, the bus is lined with smooth, black leather couches and one small table for dining. There's a sliding door that separates the bunks from the rest of the bus; six beds total, two sides of the bus set with three bunks on top of each other. After the bunks, there is another sliding door that can block off a room with a leather couch that lines the walls of the bus. The back is decorated with pillows and twinkly lights from which you can see.

“Y/N, take your pick of bunk. I’ll sleep near wherever you choose.” Matt suggests.

You choose the second bunk on the right side of the bus. Matt chooses to sleep above you and Folio follows suit below you. As everyone is settling in, Noah trails in last.

He’s left with the second bunk on the left side of the bus, right across from you.

“Hey, neighbor,” he smiles as he puts his backpack in his bunk.

“Noah,” you blush while unpacking your blanket, pillow, and plushies onto the bed.

Matt finishes unpacking his sleeping gear and leans against the wall to address all of you, “Now that we’re back, I just need to remind everyone about the rules of the bus.”

Nick groans from his bunk near the floor.

“Well, actually, y'all know there’s only one rule,” Matt maintains eye contact with you. “No pleasuring oneself or another on the bus.”

Oh, my God, you think.

"I hate you", you silently mouth to Matt.

Beside you, Noah chuckles and crosses his arms. Turning to look at him, his cheeks are pink.

Did Matt fucking tell him something? You thought.

Matt raises his eyebrows at you. “Driver! Let’s roll.”

[lovebugism]

“ Sneak out and come watch the stars with me. ” this gives me such Steve vibes. maybe something cute and romantic? I’m in my feels hahaha

thanks for your request, angel! please enjoy xoxo — steve takes his bad-at-feelings gf on a romantic outing. it goes exactly how he expected. (mean-ish!reader, fluff, 1.8k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

The forest behind the suburbs of Maple Street is sparse and full of green. Illuminated by a blue moon and blinking yellow fireflies, Steve holds your hand and leads you through thin trees and tall grass. 

You follow behind him and try hopelessly to keep up with his longer strides. A cat-like grin pulls at your mouth as you joke, “You know, when you said you wanted to sneak out and watch the stars, I thought that was a euphemism for something.”

Steve looks over his shoulder at you. His honey eyes squint as he flashes you a lopsided smile. “Is that really how low you think of me, sweetheart?”

“I just forget how much of a romantic you are sometimes.”

Your sneakers scuff against the dirt when Steve stops suddenly in front of you. He takes a step closer, smoothing his broad hands up your bare arms. His sparkling touch leaves prickling goosebumps on your skin. He stops at the sleeves of your t-shirt, long fingers warm where they sprawl below your shoulders.

“That’s exactly why I have to remind you then, huh?” he singsongs, bending softly at the waist to kiss you. 

You’re too busy rolling your eyes at his cheesy remark to meet him halfway. His plush lips brush the very corner of your mouth.

A couple more steps, and the woods break off into a clearing. A black lake sits in the middle of it all, sparkling under neon moonlight. The other side is lined with thicker trees in a more velvet shade of green. It’s lush, filled with the buzzing sounds of nightlife, and smelling heavily of summertime.

It’s the kind of beauty that takes your breath away. Sort of like the pretty boy beside you.

Steve catches you staring, and you cower. You purse your quiet smile to the side of your mouth when he flashes you a similar grin. Your eyes narrow accusingly, “How did you know this was back here?”

The boy’s beam ebbs instantaneously, mourning the fleeting moment of pure adoration. His fingers wrap gently around your wrist, tugging you closer to the clearing. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just sit, yeah?”

Before you can complain about your good jeans getting dirty, he strips himself of his summer jacket and spreads it on the grassy bank below you. He shoots you a knowing look in the meanwhile — full of twinkling eyes and quirked lips — as though anticipating your protest. You meet it with a halfhearted glower.

“How many times did you come out here with Nancy Wheeler, then, huh?” you tease as you descend onto the polyester fabric.

Steve huffs when he plops down beside you. “You’re an absolute glutton for punishment, you know that?”

“I just like making fun of you—”

“Of course you do.”

“—And also, I think it’s really funny you took me to a spot you used to take your ex,” you conclude with a giggle sputtering from your mouth. Your laugh is high and airy, like it’s actually funny to you and not a confession of misplaced jealousy. 

It’s the only reason Steve smiles softly back at you. “Shut up,” he grouses quietly despite his grin. “I just wanted to get out of that house, alright? It was getting way too loud in there.”

The Wheeler’s were having a weekend get-together. There was no real occasion for it other than the want to decorate their big house and bigger backyard for the summer season. You figured that was the sort of thing rich people did whenever they got bored.

The afternoon was pretty tolerable, but the kids only seemed to get more wired as the night progressed. You could only tolerate the yelling in Mike Wheeler’s basement for so long.

“We can’t stay gone for too long,” you tell him as you settle into his side.

Steve wraps an arm around your shoulder to press you further into him. The side of your arm rests against his ribs. His cologne embraces you the same way he does, engulfing you with its clean musky scent.

The boy laughs. “Why? ‘Cause everyone will think we’re screwing?”

“No,” you drawl with your own breathy giggle. “Because I promised Holly we’d do your makeup before bedtime.”

A beat passes. You tilt your chin to stare up at the boy beside you. You met his deadpanned expression with a mischievous grin. 

“No, you didn’t,” he challenges with narrowed honey eyes.

“I absolutely did— right after I promised we’d play Princess and Dragons with her, actually.”

Steve’s brows pinch. “Since when do dragons wear makeup?”

“…You’re the princess, Stevie.”

“Right,” he concedes, licking his lips and trying his best to feign annoyance. He’s too full of adoration for you not to smile, though. His pink lips quirk in a crooked smirk as he shakes his head at you. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that?”

“Oh,” you hum. “You love me, huh?”

That phrase was a new one. Well, between the two of you, anyway. 

You’d said it first — blurted it, really — at breakfast a few mornings ago. Steve griped that you beat him to the punch, right before he said it back to you. He said he’d wanted to say it for a while but could never find the courage to. You haven’t quite let him live it down.

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles.

“Well, that just sucks for you.”

“Does it now?”

“Mhmm,” you answer wordlessly as you lean in closer to him, your mouths mere inches apart. You can smell Coca-Cola and chocolate ice cream on his breath when it entwines with your own.

“And why’s that?”

You grin when your noses brush together. “‘Cause I love you back.”

“God,” he grimaces quietly. “That’s disgusting.”

You nod. The tip of your nose brushes the structured bridge of his. “Absolutely repulsive.”

Your lips lock hardly a second later. His plush pink ones press against your own in a lingering peck. 

You didn’t know how much you missed the feel of him until now. You hadn’t felt so starved for him all day, but now that you finally have him against your mouth, you feel like he’s bringing your withering figure back to life.

You sigh against him. You feel the smile on his mouth at the feeling of the heavy breath fanning over his cupid’s bow. Steve pulls back, then kisses you deeper. His plush lips part to open yours. His tongue slips between them, warm and wet. The irregular pattern of the pink muscle juts against your own. 

You vaguely feel his hand curl around the back of your neck before you feel the dewy grass pressing against your back. 

A soft gasp is inhaled through your nose when the boy unexpectedly lays you back. Your eyes flutter open while your lips continue to be so ardently kissed. You squirm at the feeling of your shirt dampening and wonder if the icky feeling is worth being so close to him.

Before you can answer, you gasp again. This time through your mouth.

Steve pulls back, frightened that he’s hurt you. His wide chocolate eyes dart over your face, checking for any sign that something might be wrong. “What? What happened?”

“It’s Hercules!” you answer.

His brows furrow. “It’s what?”

“Hercules! The constellation! You can only see it in the summertime—” you explain, pushing your hands against the boy’s shoulders. “—Get off!”

Steve huffs and rolls onto his back, propping himself on his elbows. You rise once more with your chin pointed towards the black sky. You spare him a brief glance. A smile pulls softly at the corners of your mouth when you see the boyish pout on his face.

“You’re the one that wanted to watch the stars, remember?” you remind him.

“I wanted to watch you under the stars,” he corrects in a monotone. “That’s totally different.”

“Just c’mere and look.”

He sighs but abides you anyway. When he sits up beside you again, you reach over his lap for his left hand. You rest your pointer finger next to his and trace the blinking constellation along the velvet blue sky. “These are the legs, see?”

Steve squints. “Sorta…”

“It’s kinda like he’s running, right? And those are the arms.”

A beat passes. The boy’s puzzled gaze flits between you and the night sky. “…Is that it?”

You squint at him. “What do you mean, is that it?”

“He has no head,” he explains as if you haven’t noticed.

“…Okay?”

“How can it be Hercules if he doesn’t have a head?” the boy scoffs like it’s some unsolved travesty.

“Because it’s a constellation, Steve,” you giggle.

“Well, it looks a lot more like a crab than a Hercules, babe.”

“There’s already a crab constellation. It’s Cancer.”

Steve shrugs, pink lips jutted softly out. “Well, they got it all backwards.”

“I’ll let Ptolemy know,” you quip with the loving roll of your eyes.

“Who?”

“Ptolemy. The astronomer,” you answer in a monotone. You’re met with a pretty face contorted in confusion. “Did you not learn anything in science class?”

Steve thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nope.”

You laugh at the honesty of his answer. “We literally had Ms. Cook’s together. Twice. Astronomy One and Two.”

“I only took those classes ‘cause I knew you’d be in them,” the boy scoffs.

“Shut up…”

“I’m serious— well, Astro One, I just got lucky. But then, senior year, I dropped chemistry for Astro Two so I could spend my last semester with you.”

Your heart swells at his words, warmed by the thought that he’s been whipped for you just as long as you’ve been for him. 

You’ve never felt truly worthy of his love. Not now. Not ever. 

Girls like you aren’t supposed to end up with guys like Steve. 

Of everyone he could’ve chosen, he chose you — the girl who finds affection close to impossible basically all the time. The girl who throws out mindless insults easier than I love you’s. But he loved you, anyway. 

Of everyone else — it was you.

“Is that why you spent five months sitting behind me and annoying the absolute shit outta me?” you joke instead of telling him you love him so much you could cry.

“I prefer the phrase wooing the shit outta you,” Steve corrects with his head tilted to his shoulder. “But, sure. Yeah.”

You shake your head with a fond smile hinting at your lips. “You’re disgusting…”

“Well, it worked,” he counters, a proud grin on his face. “Here we are, two years later, watching the stars while you lecture me about Pa-moley or whoever the fuck.”

“Ptolemy,” you correct, smiling just as wide as he is.

“Right,” he hums back. His chocolate eyes sparkle when he looks at you, twinkling with stars and adoration. “I can’t imagine being out here and getting smart-mouthed by anyone else.”

Through burning cheeks, you quip “That’s because no one else can do it as well as I can.”

Steve beams. “Exactly.”

[elizabebabe]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 ೀ 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: you're scouted for love island and you and your manager think of it as a business opportunity but what happens when you actually want to find love?, you're in for the summer of your life.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 2

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: moments in this cringe me out but it isn't love island without cringe is it? Still introduction vibes so i'm sure it'll get smoother as we go on, basing the structure off love island uk s5 since it's my fav, but they are american!

“say hello to cade!” 

you all cheer trying to give him a solid entrance, he walks around the corner shouting “what’s up girls?!”, you feel yourself cringe, you couldn’t tell if it was because of him or the environment you're in.

he walked down from the double doors and stood next to ariana. he was taller than her, had blonde hair, black trunks, and a few tattoos on his right arm, i mean you thought he was attractive sure, but you quickly realize it’s going to take a lot for you to step forward.

you're so used to getting to know someone before putting your cards on the table so a “what’s up.” isn’t going to do him justice. 

he stood confidently with his hands on his hips, observing you all one by one.

“how are you feeling today?” ariana asks, looking up at him.

“i'm good. this is cool! you guys are all so beautiful. this is like a dream.” he quickly replies, you turn to look at the other end of the hearts, noticing abby’s excitement you can tell she quite likes him.

“so cade, "love island" is all about finding your perfect match. it all starts right here with a decision about who you want to couple-up with, but first it’s up to the girls to decide if they're interested in you.”

ariana looks at the girls then back up to him, “nerve wracking huh?”

“a little bit.” he replies nervously.

“girls, if you like what you see, please step forward.” there is a long pause, a moment of silence before abby steps off her heart and moves forward.

ariana cheers, “abby, why did you step forward?”

abby squeals, “oh my god!!, for one i really liked how he came in with lots of energy, he seems like a talker which i looove, and he’s like….really hot.” 

“okay, cade you can choose to couple up with abby orr, you can couple up with any of the four girls that didn’t step forward, what will it be?”

he takes a little time to think, redoing what he did when he first walked in, analyzing all of the girls.

“abby, i want to couple up with abby.” he says proudly, abby almost jumps up and down with excitement.

she cheers in response, “yay!!” 

you all clap as cade walks over to abby’s heart, they share a hug and he stands next to her.

“so we have our first love island couple of the year…cade and abby.”

“abby, how are you feeling?, ariana adds.

“eee!, so happy, he's definitely my type so i’m excited!” she says looking back and forth between the two, he smiles from her comments, his cheeks turning a red hue, he seems to feel comfortable enough to slither his hand onto her waist.

ariana smiles, “good, cade?”

“i’m feeling good.” he squeezes her side, “she's beautiful and seems really cool so yeah, excited.”

“clair, why didn’t you step forward?” ariana questions, projecting her voice, making eye contact, you appreciated her hosting “abilities”. 

“i need someone chill, and he also gives me the vibe he would break my heart.” she giggles delivering the last bit of her sentence. she looks over to you, maybe wanting to feel validated for feeling that way off first glance. you nod at her, giving her a smile.

“damn..” he says, putting his hand on his heart dramatically, then putting it back on abby’s waist.

“well kaia, leah, you both like heartbreakers, what happened?”

they both look at eachother, “he's cute but i just like someone more mysterious, quieter…you know?” leah softly responds.

“kaia?”

“i think i have to agree with leah, he has a lot of energy, which is great just not for me.” kaia hesitates, not trying to sound like an ass.

“it seems like you guys have really similar types..” ariana says ominously. they both laugh and look at each other. 

“alright, are we ready for the next boy?”

you all cheer, “alright everyone, please meet romeo.”

he walked out the big brown doors, the first thing you noticed was his green shorts on his tanned skin, he was a brunette and his hair was shaggy. you definitely felt a tiny butterfly.

“this place is sick,” he says softly.

he walks over to ariana, a smirk present on his face.

you fiddled with your bikini, he caught stolen glances from you every once in a while.

“romeo, welcome to love island.” 

“look at these gorgeous women in front of you.” she kindly adds.

“they are all beautiful.” he says trying his best to project his voice. 

“as you can see, we already have one couple, cade and abby, then these four single ladies.” 

“leah, kaia, clair and y/n.” she continued.

“you can couple up with any of these ladies, including abby who is already in a couple.”

you notice abby shaking her head then looking up towards cade. 

“but before we give you that choice,  let’s see if any of the girls are interested enough to step forward.” he silently nods.

“okay ladies, if any of you are interested in romeo, please step forward.”

there is another pause, you all anticipating eachothers moves, you were definitely interested but this would be a bold move from you.

your taking too long is all you can think in your head when you notice leah stepping forward, seconds later kaia. you step forward, your legs taking over and moving without your brain's permission.

he looks shocked, “wow, three gorgeous women have stepped forward for you, what are you thinking?”

“i’m speechless, really, i don’t, i don’t know.” he stutters 

“that is pretty shocking, let's go in order here, leah, why did you step forward?”

“i think he’s super cute and i've felt him eyeing me up so i would assume it's mutual.”  she says it in a “rubbing it in your face” tone. causing your eyes to discreetly roll.

“kaia”?”

“me and leah really do have the same type.”  she giggles “ he seems quite quiet but he also has that “bad boy”  aesthetic going on.”

“are you a bad boy romeo?” 

“i don’t think so..” he says bashfully.

“lastly, y/n? i noticed your hesitation, what's that about?”

you scoff, “well i thought he was attractive, i was just a bit nervous.”

"make sense,

alright, romeo, who would you like to couple up with?”

“i think y/n intrigues me quite a bit.” he says quickly, your heart feels like it bumped out of your chest. you look down to get a look at leah, she looks pissed.

“okay, go get her!” he walks closer to you, you open your arms for a embrace, you almost stick together from the sweat beads on both of your chests, 

he puts his arm around you making your stomach flip.

“you guys look great together.” 

“thank you!” you both say at the same time making you and him giggle.

“you alright leah?”

“just fine ariana, thank you.”

ariana quickly moves on, “kaia?”.

“all good here.” she smiles

“great.”

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

the coupling went on for a while, a guy named robert came out next, immediately snatching clair up, she seemed really happy about the coupling.

cyrus ran out next, he had a lot of energy but he seemed to wear it better than cade having kaia and leah stepping forward, he ended up picking leah, which seemed to be a bit of a let down for kaia but she quickly let it go remembering there is still one boy left.

aidan being the last guy to come out, he seemed more mature than the other guys, whether it was his mannerisms or the way he spoke, he ended up stealing leah, having cyrus couple up with kaia. 

“congratulations, we now have our five couples,”

you all clap and cheer,  “these couples you just made will decide how long you stay in the villa.” you look at romeo, he smiles at you.

“in your couples, you’ll spend time getting to know each other, taking on challenges together, living together and even sharing a bed together.”

“in eight weeks time, the public will be voting for their favorite couple. that couple stands to win a massive $50,000 cash prize and be crowned the winners of  ‘love island’ 2024.

but don’t forget this is love island, and the path to true love is never that simple. there may be a few surprises around every corner, and the first surprise might be sooner than you think.”

you all laugh nervously, sharing smiles with the person next to you.

“i will see you very soon.” ariana says ominously,

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

the rest of the islanders greet each other, but you and romeo seem to be in your own bubble. 

“how are you?”

you wipe your arm, “sweaty.” 

he scoffs, “me too.”

“i didn’t expect you to pick me.” you scoff.

“why not.”

“i don’t know.” you say awkwardly.

“so, i “intrigue” you?” you mock his tone from earlier, he puts his hand behind his head, “pretty much.”

robert comes up to hug you, followed by the rest of the guys you never properly interacted with, you were able to greet them with a few words before romeo interrupted, hoping to have a more private conversation with you.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you both laid on a day bed overlooking the pool, some of your fellow islanders were already dipping their feet into the pool while having conversation.

ironically “it’s so pretty.” were the first words to leave his mouth, you both admire the villa while enjoying a moment of comfortable silence.

“you know what i hate?” he says rolling his head back to get a better look at you, you can’t help but smile.

a quiet “what?” is the only thing that can leave your lips when he is staring into your eyes, he adjusts himself making the bed squeak, “small talk.”.

“me too!!” you exclaim.

he chuckles, “okay lets play a game then, rapid fire.”

“okay…, i'm assuming you’re gonna quickly ask me questions..?”

“pretty much, how old are you?”

“i’m 21.” you answer quickly, “you?”

“23, job go.” 

“i own my own business." you hesitate, "sell my own designs, it's whatever.” 

“are you kidding? that’s sick.” 

“thank you.” you shyly reply, “what about you.?”, you change your position on the bed from laying down to sitting upright.

“i work with a bunch of animals, my dad has owned a pet store since i was a kid so i kinda just grew up around them.”

hearing about his job excites you, you like someone that can be passionate about their career. 

“that’s really cu–” you attempt to reply but you’re interrupted by the sound of heels coming up from behind you, it was leah.

“do you mind if i pull romeo?”

“it’s not up to me.” you quickly respond.

he starts sitting up, leaning in to give you a hug, you hesitantly reciprocate.

“i’ll see you later, okay?” he says whispering into your ear, he pulls back from the hug fully standing up leaving you on the day bed.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

shortly after your interrupted conversation, abby and clair asked you to join them exploring the villa. you obviously say yes and get off the day bed, quickly following them inside.

to the left of the ‘backyard’ doors is a living space, followed by a pull down bed with a neon “dog house” sign. you all laugh when you first notice it, abby throws around jokes, “where cade will be sleeping if he pisses me off.” making you and clair giggle.

you turned around going to the door on the other side of the room, inside were seven beds lined up against the wall, “holy shit!” abby says from behind you, she walks ahead of you touching the first bed in the room, then looking at its bench to notice “abby.” and “cade” signs at the end of it, she jumps on it.

“clair, you'll probably be down here next to me.” you say excitedly, she chuckles. you and clair walk down to the fourth and fifth bed noticing your names, you both sit on your assigned beds.

“can you believe life right now?” abby says, even from “far away” her voice is still easily heard.

“not at all.” clair comments, looking at you, “do you think the other girls are done with their chats?” abby comments. “why?” you respond, “we need to have a girl chat.” you look at clair and she looks at you with an unreadable expression on her face.

“about our couples?, duh.” abby continues.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you and the rest of the girls decided to head upstairs to find a place to have ‘girl chat’.  you walked behind clair, right up the stairs are the showers, bathrooms but most importantly the makeup room, you all piled in taking a seat at a vanity.

“this place is so fucking beautiful.” abby states, starting the conversation as usual.

“so how was everyone's chats? me and cade got surprisingly deep?” she adds, almost saying her last few words like a question.

“i mean that's good, does he match your energy like you wanted?” kaia chimes in curiously.

“oh 1000%, i already feel lucky to have already met someone that ticks so many of my damn boxes.”

“don’t forget it’s day one, you have to get to know everyone else.” clair states, taking leah and abby by surprise.

“damn, didn’t know you were like that.” leah says, flicking her hair behind her head.

“i mean she's right.” you add.

“clair, how is your sitch.” kaia questions her.

“it’s good, we only had a quick chat but he seems chill, i'm just not sure yet.” “why?” abby expresses genuine confusion, “you guys seem like a good match.”

“yes on paper.” she rebuttals, “but i don’t know him yet, i’m typically a grower so it'll take me some time.”

you all nod at her comment.

“so.., kaia, leah, hows your ‘sticky’ situation.” abby asks nonchalantly.

“well, my convo with cyrus went well,

obviously we're attracted to the same guy so i'm not going to hold it against her when she inevitably talks to him.” kaia quickly but carefully responds.

“wait..you haven't talked to cyrus yet leah?” abby asks, trying to get more information.

“he was talking to kaia so i just let it be, was able to pull romeo earlier though.”

abby and clair quickly look at you with those ‘sad’, ‘puppy’ eyes, you gave them a sarcastically confused look in return.

“how did it go?” kaia asks her genuinely. 

“it was good, we have some things in common, i’ll definitely talk to him again, maybe later tonight?”

“don’t forget to talk to cyrus later, i want to see how he’ll move.” kaia persists. 

“how was your chat y/n?” abby quickly takes back the conversation. hearing your name quickly snaps you out of your zone out.

“it was good, we didn’t get to talk much before he was pulled.” you say awkwardly, the whole room going silent for a bit.

“you know who needs to talk tonight?” abby quickly says, breaking the silence.

“you two.” she says pointing at leah and you.

you both look at each other, “the tension is obvious and i'm not having my new girl friends hate each other,

especially over a man.” abby continues.

“i don’t hate her.” you say quickly after hearing abby, you fidgeted with your bikini, suddenly it felt hotter than it already did.

“annnyyyway..” abby drags out the word, trying to get rid of the awkwardness, “leah, how's aidan?”

her face scrunches up and you can already tell what she’s gonna say, “he isn’t for me, too serious, and lowkey boring..” 

“yikes.” abby responds.

“but he expressed interest in clair, so maybe..?” clair’s head immediately snaps up, 

“seriously?”

“oooooo.” you say teasingly, abby joins in with you.

“stop it.”, you notice her flusteredness. 

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you were called to the beach hut for your first confessional, you were nervous to be in front of a camera again, 

yes there were cameras all around you but at least they were hidden.

you walked in and immediately plopped down in the chair, the lighting looked a bit harsh, you wondered if it was flattering or not, 

all you had to do was answer a few questions from the producers, easy. 

“how are you feeling in your couple?” a deep voice from behind the camera questions.

“uhm.” you took time to think about what you wanted to say, 

“good, he makes me feel nervous, which i think is a good sign?”

“how do you feel about sharing a bed in your couple?”

“i haven’t shared a bed with a man in a while so i'm a little nervous, but it’ll be fine.” you quickly respond, trying not to sound like a moron on national television.

you adjust your bikini as the next question is dished out to you.

“how do you feel about leah?”

you awkwardly smile, “she seems nice, we obviously got off on the wrong foot earlier so that's unfortunate. but i'll talk to her, one on one, later, hopefully clear the air.”

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after answering a few beach hut questions it was time to unpack your suitcase, you walk up the stairs and down the hall to find you and all the girls' suitcases lined up against some closets.

you find the one with the big “y/n” on it, grabbing it and crouching on the floor to open it up. that’s when you remember why you’re here, your designs, not for romeo or the friends you were making, 

but to show off your designs.

you think about what rhia would be saying right now, “bitch, get it together, this is work.”, it makes you giggle, 

now you’re sitting on the floor reminiscing, missing rhia and your family. that's when the rest of the girls pile in, interrupting your thoughts, you now think about how many times you’ve been interrupted today.

“unpacking time whoo!” abby exclaims, hyping the rest of the girls up.

clair comes next to you, seeming to notice your somber expression, “you okay?” 

“i’m great, thank you.” you smile at her and she reciprocates it. now it’s chaos, suitcases being thrown open, clothes being snagged onto hangars. 

“what are you guys sleeping in tonight?” kaia asks.

the girls talk over each other at once, “a t-shirt.” is what you reply with, “that's it?”

“no, oh my god.” you quickly say with a giggle.

“i was about to say.” she chuckles over her words.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

evening meant it was time to get ready again, which meant getting out of those bikinis and into something else, you didn’t realize how much your feet hurt until you peeled your wedges off. 

you were sweaty and sticky all day so you decided you needed to shower before changing into something clean. 

you had a quick, soapy, rinse, since you felt awkward, the shower door was clear except for the part that just barely covered your bits.

you quickly put your towel on, deciding to lotion up in the makeup room where the rest of the girls were. minus the tension from this morning you felt really comfortable with them all.

you lotioned up and put on a pair of undies and a bra, the dressing room and the makeup room were connected causing girls to walk back and forth while having conversation, you heard laughter, the sounds of zippers, heels, for some reason it made you really happy, you chose to sit next to clair at the vanities,

just like earlier. she was appreciative. 

you did your hair and makeup at the vanity, the lighting was really nice making you feel extra confident, you decided to wear one of your favorite designs, the girls in the room hyping you up bringing a smile to your face, you adjusted yourself in the outfit making sure everything sat perfectly, grabbing some heels that complimented the rest of your outfit and slipping them on.

you walked in front of a wall length mirror, posing a little,

you looked gorgeous.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you all walked outside, this was the first time you saw it at night and it was beautiful, a little chilly but the fairy lights above the villa made up for it, they were even in the trees!

the kitchen was tucked in a corner between when you first walk out and the day beds, everybody slowly picked off, abby and cade going for a convo first, followed by clair pulling aidan for a chat, you gave her a thumbs up as she walked off with him, six of you still stood in the kitchen, you decided it was time to take leah off for a conversation.

you grabbed a glass off the counter that was filled with champagne and walked over to her, “wanna have our chat?”

“sure.” she replied taking a sip out of her glass, you both walk over to the fire pit a bit away from the kitchen.

“how are you?” you start.

“good.” she replies back

“you look nice.” you compliment her, she was wearing a silver glittery dress with her hair in a bun, 

she really did look nice.

“thanks, you too.” you nod your head appreciatively,  not sure if you should bring up the tension from this morning or ask her to forget about it, you both sit in silence not sure what the other will say.

“sorry..” she says quietly

you snap your head to her, “what was that?” you ask genuinely.

“i’m sorry.” she states it this time.

“why?” you quickly ask.

“i was a sour puss about romeo picking you over me, i shouldn’t have.”

you look at her, then at romeo who was chatting in the kitchen.

“sour puss?” you giggle, you’ve heard the phrase but never heard it come out of someone's mouth before.

“yeah.” she chuckles.

“it’s fine, really, i don’t want us to have any tension or anything, the energy has been so good between us girls.”

“i agree.” she stands up, you follow suit bringing her into a hug. you hear cheering from somewhere, pulling out of the hug, you look around noticing abby and cade, sitting on bean bags that were arranged a little away from the pool.

it makes you and leah laugh. 

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

a little after your conversation with leah, 

you, abby and kaia were chatting at a swing placed on the right hand side of the villa. you and the girls didn’t even notice romeo approaching you, “can i steal you?” 

you look over at him, he was wearing a black dress shirt, and gray pants, he looked nice.

“mhm.” you replied, getting ready to stand up but the girls did it before you. “we’ll go, you stay.” abby says, walking away with kaia as they continue the conversation you were just having. 

“you good?” he questions, sitting on the ‘couch’ swing, it moves when he adjusts himself to face you.

“i’m great, feeling less shy, i guess?”

“i noticed you’re talking a lot more, i'm glad you’re comfortable.”

“me too, i was worried it would take a lot longer.” you go back to forth with him as you notice him observing you.

“you look really nice.”

“thank you..” you say shyly.

“so, how was your chat with leah?” you question, you remember leah telling you “it was good.” so you wondered how he would reply.

“it was nice, she's chill, we have a few things in common.”

“that’s cool.” you comment, not really knowing what to say next.

“how do you feel about sleeping later tonight?” he changes the subject.

“i’m fine with it, i’m actually already really tired.”

“it has been a long day to be fair.”

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you all gathered at the fire pit to play a game of truth or dare, the rules were simple, abby was at the head of the fire pit so she would start first, asking anyone ‘truth or dare’, when they finish their dare or their truth next they can pick any islander to continue the game.

you all sat comfortably around the fire, you sat opposite of abby, next to romeo and of course, clair.

“cade, truth or dare.” abby starts.

he laughs, “of course.” he says knowing she was gonna pick him.

“dare.” he says confidently.

“i dare you to give a lap dance to an islander of your choice.” she winks at him. 

you all laugh and cheer after hearing the dare, he gets up putting his glass on the floor, he stands over abby, moving his hips back and forth, putting his leg behind her and gyrating in her face, you couldn’t stop laughing and you could tell everyone around you felt the same.

he stopped, sitting back down next to her, smirk on his face, grabbing his cup off the ground and taking a sip.

abby was shocked, you could tell because her mouth was basically on the floor, “that was too quick.” she complains.

once cade stops laughing, he looks around, not knowing who to choose, “my guy robert, truth or dare?”

robert scoffs, “truth.”.

“boooringgg.” cade shouts, “have you ever had a threesum?” 

robert chokes a little on his wine, “yes..” he says shamefully, for some reason that shocks everyone.

“damn, my man!” cade exclaims, getting up to dap him up, abby playfully hits him on the arm, making him laugh and sit back down.

the laughter is interrupted by a ring, all of your faces slowly drop, nerves quickly setting in.

“was that you?” robert questions clair.

“i think it was.” she responds.

“i got a text!” clair shouts, “islanders, it’s time for the real games to begin, please welcome your new arrival.” she reads it out ominously, making all you look around at each other frantically. 

your heart goes to your stomach, your mind racing with questions. you adjust your outfit and take another sip out of your glass.

clair continues, “#one out of three.”

“what does that even mean? abby asks, clearly confused.

seconds of silence later a brunette comes from behind the corner, “hi!” he says cheerily

clair looks at you knowingly, you quietly snicker.

everyone slowly stands up to greet him, you take your time adjusting yourself and taking a few more sips before having the courage to walk closer, he daps up the guys and hugs the ladies that have already come up to him, you notice his eyes, they look brown in the night light, his hair, his jawline, you feel flustered.

in your zoning out he already made his way through everyone, you were the only one left to greet, you smiled at him and he smiled back. your mic raised against your chest, rising with each deep and heavy breath.

he put his arms out, you did the same, sliding your manicured hands around his torso, making for a cuddly hug, 

weirdly it felt just right.

who is this new islander?, find out next time on love island.

hope you enjoyed!

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 1 - Firsts

Summary: The boys' first official practice together has a bit of a bumpy start.

Word Count: 669 (nice)

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Friendship, angst, mentions of FOI, Freak #3 is named Dave in my universe.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you don’t start on Day 1, you can still join! <3 Thanks @thisapplepielife for organizing, this event is going to be so fun!

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

There was tension in the air.

Tension and maybe a little bit of BO. It was the last stretch of summer, after all, and they were four teenage boys standing in a garage.

The setup wasn't bad though, and Mrs. Emerson had set up a card table full of snacks and drinks in the corner.

"Alright," Gareth cleared his throat awkwardly. "So do we want to eat first or should we just get right to it?"

Jeff's head turned to Eddie, immediately deferring to the leader of the band for the final say, and the other two were quick to follow suit.

And in that moment, Eddie faltered.

No matter how excited they'd all been discussing this in the cafeteria the other day, it still felt wrong. Like something was missing.

There was no Ronnie.

No Dougie.

And no more second chances when it came to his friends.

Eddie looked down at his feet and let his sneakers shuffle against the smooth concrete floor as feelings of self-doubt crashed into him.

What if he fumbled it all again? What if he let them down? What if their sound really wasn't as good as Corroded Coffin's had been the first time around? At least they had something then; this was new, this was fresh, this was different.

Even worse, what if he tried to push them to be better and they just thought he was chasing after the fame game again? Even though he'd sworn to himself that if they were going to do this, they were going to do it right.

He hadn't exactly done much to earn anyone's trust back yet; a summer wasn't gonna undo all of the bullshit he'd put his friends through.

Eddies thoughts--his fears--grew and grew until they were just a buzzing drone in his head and there was a tight, anxious grip on his heart that made him feel like he was about to pass out.

"You know," Jeff spoke up after a few short, painfully quiet moments, "the first time I picked up a guitar to play with you and Dougie and Ronnie, you told me I sucked."

Eddie's head snapped up and he watched acrooked smile grow on Jeff's face.

He remembered those early day, before Jeff was officially part of the band. He said that he wanted to learn guitar he would give anything to sit in on their practices. Showed up the next day with an old out-of-tune fender and no idea what a chord was.

"I didn't have callouses yet so I kept having to stop for a break," Jeff massaged his fingers, remembering the phantom pains. "Then I got frustrated when I wasn't getting any of the things you showed me. I almost gave up, actually. I wasn't gonna show up for the next practice, but you stopped me before I got in my mom's car. Told me that I wasn't gonna get better if I just quit."

There was a heavy emphasis on the word quit, and Eddie closed his eyes, as if his friend would stop seeing directly into his soul if he did.

"I don't know how you knew man," Jeff continued, voice laden with intention. "But you did. And look at us now."

"Still a garage band in Indiana," Eddie snorted in self-deprecation.

"Uh, we're only gonna be the best garage band Indiana has ever seen," Dave interjected. "We just...have to play some music."

Gareth let out a whoop of agreement and Eddie opened his eyes to find the three younger boys staring at him expectantly once again.

"What do you say man?" Jeff asked. "First official song of the first practice of the new Corroded Coffin. What should we play?"

And Eddie stood there for a moment, contemplating, weighing and judging his options like this was the most important decision he would make in his life.

Maybe it was.

Finally, with one last glance down to his feet, he took a breath, pulled his shoulders back, and asked,

"How well do you guys know Flight of Icarus?"

[lkfarrout]

Routine (family fic)

No ships/romance, just angst.

Summary: something I thought was likely to happen in the week it took Stan to get his memory back

Warnings: light angst, minimal swearing

For Stan Pines, it was the same routine every morning for the last twenty-or-so years: shower, suit, fez, lights, open sign, merchandise, cash register, don't forget to smile, no refunds, etc, etc. But before all of that, somewhere in the haze between the first sip of coffee and the hot water on his face, he always found himself in the basement. There wasn't a real reason for it. It wasn't like he could make much progress that early in the day, but he always went down anyway. Maybe it was just to make sure it was still there. That his twin was still gone. That he hadn't woken from what was simply a horrible nightmare.

On this particular morning, Stan wasn't even sure what day it was, but it didn't matter. The warm summer air told him the shack would be busy and he didn't have any time to waste.

His head hurt like a bitch. Like a bad hangover. He trudged down the hallway in his slippers, stepping over boards and other debris. Must have been a party last night. Gotta tell Soos to clean this up.

The smell of cheap instant coffee filled the kitchen, and Stan squinted at the fridge door. There was a drawing of him magnet-ed to it, and not a great one. Like a kid drew it. Covered in glitter and stickers. "Our Hero," it said. Huh, probably someone's idea of a joke.

The sun was barely peaking over the horizon, bathing the giftshop in soft orange light. Beep, beep, beep. He had learned years ago to put the wrong combination in sometimes, to keep the buttons from wearing unevenly and giving away the real combination. Beep, beep, beep.

"Stanley?"

His mug fell from his grip and shattered on the floor. Coffee seeped into the floorboards and under the vending machine. That name. Stan didn't dare move.

A large hand grabbed his shoulder. "Where are you going?"

With the corner of his eyes, Stan counted the fingers.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

One two three four five six.

Onetwothreefourfivesix.

With a deep inhale and one swift motion, Stan flipped around and grasped the face of the man behind him desperately with both hands.

He whispered, "Standford?"

His brother returned the gesture, playfully grabbing Stan's face and chuckling, "Yes, it's me, Stan."

Stanley choked on his words, he couldn't even think straight.

"How- how did you get here? I never, I- I couldn't fix it." His eyes began to fill with tears and he held on tighter to Stanford's face.

Ford pulled him into a tight hug, which was eagerly reciprocated.

"You did fix it, Stan," he reassured his brother, "You brought me back, you just forgot."

Stan pulled back and looked at Ford, confused.

Ford continued, "You were doing so well last night, I don't know what happened."

"But... I couldn't even find the other journals," Stan insisted.

Ford nodded, "I know, Dipper found them, remember?"

"...Dipper? Ain't that the name of Shermie's grandbaby? I think I was at the birth. How long ago was that?"

"Yes, the twins, Dipper and Mabel." Standford's tone was soft and reassuring, "They live here, they're up in the attic right now."

Stan groaned and rubbed his eyes, "Darn kids, they keep breakin' that window up there."

"Yes!" Ford exclaimed and grabbed Stan by the shoulders excitedly, "They keep breaking the window!"

Stan looked at his twin like he was crazy. "What, are you rootin' for em or something? You're the one that gave her the crossbow." He rolled his eyes, annoyed.

Stanford laughed, "I sure did." He embraced Stan in a hug once again.

"How's your headache today?" he asked.

"Still bad," Stan replied. He looked down at the wet floor and laughed, "I could use another coffee."

[honeyjars-sims]

3.5 Illumination

It was a beautiful summer day, nice and sunny with a gentle breeze that was just right for a day at the beach. Destiny had been trying to get Johnny to meet with her (and their sisters) for a couple of weeks, but he kept coming up with excuses to stay home.

When she reached out with an invite to Playa Del Sol, though, he couldn’t bring himself to turn down the offer. The beach was one of his favorite places; he couldn’t be unhappy for long with the ocean in view.

Johnny was sitting in the sand, attempting to mold the wet clumps into something vaguely recognizable. On the other side of the lumpy mess, his nephew Darien gleefully tossed two handfuls of sand into the air.

“That’s the way to do it, buddy!” Johnny laughed. “You’re an architect in the making!” Darien babbled in agreement. 

“You’re really good with him,” Destiny said.

Johnny shrugged. “It’s pretty easy. I just have to play like a little kid and say silly things to make him laugh.”

“He doesn’t take to people very easily. I think you're better with kids than you give yourself credit for. You’ll be a great dad one day!”

Johnny scrunched up his nose. “I don’t know about that. At this rate I doubt I’ll even get married.”

“Come on, Johnny! I know it hurts that things didn’t work out with Lexie, but this is your first heartbreak. Give it some time and you’ll be ready to try again.”

“My first heartbreak, huh? So that means there are more coming.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But everyone goes through it.”

“Not you. You married your first love,” Johnny pointed out.

Destiny sighed. “Yeah, I guess I’m not the best person to go to for breakup advice. But I do know that you’re too much of a romantic to give up on love for good.”

“Do you think you and Tyler are soulmates? Or do you even believe in that sort of thing?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. It’s a nice thought, that some magical force brought us together. But even if we are meant to be, our relationship still takes work. We both had to put ourselves out there and we both have to continue making an effort. Not just for us, but for Darien, too.”

“Uh, wait.” Johnny began looking around in a panic, realizing Darien was no longer next to them. “Where is Darien?” 

Destiny whipped around to find Darien toddling off towards the concessions stand. “Shit! Darien, get back here!” She darted off behind him.

“Go, Darien! Make a break for it!” Johnny couldn’t help but laugh now that he knew his nephew was safe and sound.

While Destiny wrangled her runaway toddler, Johnny walked over to talk to Chantal and Trinity who were sunbathing on some lounge chairs.

“You two aren’t done roasting yet?”

“We’re not roasting, we’re getting a summer glow,” Trinity corrected.

“Hmm, well I hear the rotisserie chicken look is totally in right now.”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny,” Chantal deadpanned. “Where’s Destiny?”

“Chasing after Darien. Here they come now.”

“No more escaping, mister,” Destiny lectured as she plopped onto the ground, pulling Darien firmly into her lap. 

“You’ve gotta get faster, dude! Freedom is just around the corner,” Johnny countered.

Destiny pointed to Johnny. “Don’t listen to a word this one says. He’ll get you in trouble. Say ‘no, no, Uncle Johnny!’”

“No no!” Darien repeated with a giggle, clapping his hands with delight.

“Oh, you’re gonna tell me what to do? I’ll show you!” Johnny knelt down and scooped Darien into his arms.

Darien’s giggles turned into high-pitched squeals as his uncle lifted him into the air. Johnny considered what Destiny said earlier about him being a good father someday.

The thought of parenthood scared him a bit–there are so many ways you can mess a kid up, after all. But seeing the joy on Darien's face was like getting a glimpse into the future. One without late nights at the club, fights with his family, or meaningless sex.

Maybe Destiny was right and he was giving up too easily. It wasn't too late for him to have a life like his sister's--a happy marriage, beautiful kids, a job he loved.

For now, though, he was just focused on being a good uncle. All the fun without the responsibility.

“Come on, let’s go get some ice cream,” he said, carrying Darien towards the concessions stand.

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[hannahssimblr]

“Come on!” Jen giggles, “Just one! One little eeny-weeny teeny puff!”

“No! Get it away!” 

With one hand locked behind my neck, she tries to slot a joint into my mouth. I gently but firmly peel her hands off me. “This is the textbook definition of peer pressure.”

“Oh, you should tell your parents what’s happening to you. They’ll think I’m evil.”

“They already half think that.”

“Come on!”

“I’ll vomit.”

“You might not this time. It might be different.”

“There’s something deeply insane about that statement.”

“Here!” Shane interjects, holding his hand out for the joint. “Give it to me, sure it’s only wasted on him.” He pops it between his lips, and when he smokes it, the end crackles, a dot of smouldering light in the dark. 

Standing around watching my friends get stoned has been a regular fixture of the summer. We spend most of these long, lazy evenings hanging out in some unkempt corner of the caravan park, where the sun’s warmth lingers on the fractured tarmac and damp beach towels are drying over the wire fence around the tennis court. 

Last night, some man in his thirties complained that our chatting was disturbing his kids’ bedtime and that he could smell the weed smoke inside his caravan. Except he didn’t call it weed. He called in ganja, and when he went back inside, we snickered about it until he hissed out of the window that he was going to phone the police.

So tonight I am standing around watching my friends get stoned in town instead. It took me forty-five minutes to cycle in to meet them, and my reward for that is the ends of the Chinese takeaway that they didn’t finish and a wonky joint being forced into my mouth.

“Fuck, that’s shite,” Shane hacks out a bone-dry cough, and he pushes the joint towards Joe, who has the temerity to look offended. “Hey! My brother sold me that.”

“Did your brother fish it out of that bin at the back of the chipper?”

Joe smokes it to prove a point. “It’s lovely,” he insists, eyes watering, “I think that’s… that’s actually the nicest weed I ever had.”

“It tastes of stale crackers.”

“My brother wouldn’t sell me bad stuff! Don’t say that about-” his eyes bulge and he breaks off into wheezing coughs, doubling over with a hand clutching at his throat, “Okay, right enough,” he manages as we passively watch him struggle, “it’s a bit dry.” 

Kasper is waving in the distance, doing a little half-run across the pedestrian crossing. He’s coming back from the off licence with a school bag packed so full of cans that he hasn’t been able to zip it up all the way. 

“I saw Liam,” He says, eyes dancing as though he has spotted a cryptid in the woods, “And girlfriend eating at restaurant.”

“Just now?” Jen says. 

“Yes, five minutes.”

They must be on a date. I wonder did he ask her to his debs. I wonder if she said yes. I wonder why I am invested. 

“Oh! Cute! Maybe they’ll come and hang out.” She produces her flip phone and begins texting. 

“No,” Shane protests with a waving hand, “Don’t. Don’t invite them.”

“Too late. I’ve asked her.”

“No. It’s weird! I don’t want her to see me stoned.”

“She knows you smoke weed.”

“She doesn’t.”

“Well, she’s about to find out.”

My stomach does strange things at the thought of seeing Evie again. It’s ridiculous and makes little sense because she’s just some random girl who hangs out with Kelly Healy. It would be easier to dismiss this sensation as weird hunger pangs if I hadn’t eaten less than half an hour ago, so instead, I conclude I am experiencing a sudden onset anxiety disorder and concentrate on ignoring it.

When she arrives about fifteen minutes later, I ignore the feeling even harder. She is smiling, but Liam is not. He drags his feet behind her, pointedly miserable, while Evie drifts over and hugs Jen, oblivious to him. 

I’m there too, somehow, holding out my arms to hug her. I make sure it’s brief, because I am still somewhat attempting to be nice to Liam, and suspect he considers my touching or looking at Evie in any way to be bullying. I give him that awkward, closed-lip smile afterwards, and he does the same in return. 

The smell of Evie’s jasmine shampoo lingers in my nose even after she is gone. 

“What happened to your face?” Shane asks her. She goes pink and wipes a knuckle under her eye. “Nothing happened. Kelly did my makeup.”

A laugh bubbles from his lips. “Well, you look mad.”

All I noticed was the dark makeup on her eyes and some lipstick. It’s not exactly shocking stuff.

Jen rolls her eyes as she takes the joint from Joe. “Don’t mind him. You look lovely as usual.” She takes a long, luxurious drag. “You want?” 

“Ah, no. She can’t have any,” Shane pushes Jen’s arm away. “I wouldn’t let Evie do any of this stuff. She’s only a baby.”

Jen doesn’t rest, she just swings her arm to Liam instead. “How about you?” And I wonder if the quality is really so bad that she’s offering it to him. I feel it’s just as good in the rubbish bin. Smirking, I catch eyes with Evie, who is trying her hardest to look serious, and wonder if she is thinking about the story I told her about him at the gallery yesterday. The memory of her guilty laughter makes me feel like I might lose my cool completely.

Liam brushes some curls across his forehead and straightens up haughtily. “No thanks. I’m probably not going to stay for long, anyway. I have to get up at six for work.” He takes his phone out of his jeans. “Actually, I think I’m going to text my dad to come and get me now, so if you want a lift, Evie, you can come.”

“No,” she says, a little too quickly. “I think I’m going to stay.”

His brow furrows. “Will you just get a taxi then or what?”

“We’ll get her home safely,” I say, and a rigidity comes over Liam. He won’t look at me, and a muscle pops in his cheek. 

“Will you? But sure, you’re all stoned.”

“I’m not. She’ll be fine with us.”

“Okay,” he says, though it’s clear it’s not at all, but what does he expect? You can’t exactly force a girl who is so clearly repelled by your presence to hang out with you. In fact, Evie spends the next half hour chit-chatting with Jen and ignoring him while he sulks in the background, waiting for his dad to collect him. When he leaves they exchange awkward goodbyes, and she continues as she was, as though she’s already forgotten he was with her. I should probably feel bad for him, but I am oddly triumphant. 

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