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metranart · 2 months ago

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Obsessed with Yuji and Sukuna who are inexplicably fascinated by your mere existence . <𝟑

Ft. Yuji x reader, Sukuna x reader. Both, vessel and curse, are thirsty for your unshared attention. Manipulation, gaslighting, horny pink-haired sorcerer, bad decisions, sneaking into your room while you're sleeping, slight! non-con elements.

Yuji was distracted.

His cheeks now own a permanent pinkish hue, his hands sweat an awful lot and his gaze seemed to have an automatic aim to find you.

You had perturbed the vessel of Sukuna.

This had never happened to him before and it worries him…a lot, almost to the point where he blames the king of curses for his recent indecent thoughts.

Yes, that must be it. Sukuna is morphing my thoughts into a perturbing fog of arousal and… depravity. Its definitely him.

Yuji convinces himself each time his eyes drag through the length of your bare legs or when your bra is visible under your white shirts and your round breast bounce when you run or happily jump at a joke he said, its practically hypnotizing and throughfully frustrating to let his mind run rampant.

His imagination is a nagging bitch which wishes to do more than just watch, he can only imagine the way your soft skin will feel under his fingertips.

If your breast will fit in his big, powerful hands and how good it will feel while massaging his dick in between the plump flesh.

Your mouth is a favorite of his, to have your lips wrapped around his meaty length must be nice and to be able to feed you his bitter milk every morning makes him shiver in his sorcerer uniform.

This thoughts are over the line for a sweet and simple boy like him and he cant stop from feel flustered every time but what worries him and has him in red alert is the persistency and the lewd air they were gaining with each day.

Jerking himself off each morning at the pray of your name is not helping to ease the rest of his day, anymore. He has begin to resource to much primitive ways to relax, ways that mortify and ashame him each time he blew his load.

Stole a pair of your panties to wrap his dick while he masturbates, once entered your room and bury his face in your pillow for almost an hour until he felt all his muscles loose. Has taken photos of you, like a thousand photos and the must precious ones where the ones when you had been tranquil sitting on the grass chatting with panda and Toge and your underwear was at display without you noticing it.

Those were his favorite batch and his first aid kit against sleepless nights and cold showers in the middle of the night.

Remembered doing his best effort to dismiss the pang of jealousy that kidnapped him when noticed how Toge’s eyes subtly drifted down to have a peek as frequently as he took a photo.

It was demeaning and wrong to be indulging in those kind of acts towards such a close and cherished friend but you were driving him to the edge just by existing.

Yet, must admit finds some comfort in the fact that he is not the only one struggling.

To have his eyes perch on you has its advantages and those are knowing exactly when the eyes of another sorcerer hover around your figure. He could attribute it to the low number of women in the school but deep inside knew what those looks really meant because he recognized himself in them.

The hunger, the need, the temptation and your innate and blissful ignorance toward everything. It is intoxicating, making it a hard combo to ignore and that reality makes him feel less dirty and a little bit less like a perv.

The pink haired vessel can even swear he catch Megumi’s gaze glue to the back of your thighs in an occasion but when he looked again his eyes where looking ahead…so, he gave him the courtesy of doubt.

But what actually is raiding his brain to a maddening sharp end is the fact that he’s been standing immobile in front of your bed for almost forty minutes watching you sleep.

In his audacity he slip into your room, only wanted to stare at your face one more time before go to sleep but now that he is there—…is trapped and solely unable to leave. There is nothing wrong with the window he came though or the door without a lock, is only the realization he does not want to leave.

The hot weather has bless his sight with you wearing only a tiny pair of strawberries pattern panties and a white tank top which refuses to cover your breast in its totality.

Bless the thin fabric hugging your curves.

It is breathtaking privilege to be able to look at you in such a state of relaxation, it almost makes him sigh out loud.

Touch her, she wont mind… a familiar voice whispers in the back of his head. She is deep asleep, Yuji, wont even be the wiser if you let your hand skim over her legs…Certain curse insisted.

Stop being a pussy, boy! And touch her already!

“Shut up.” The confused boy curses quietly to his other half. Yuji can feel his heart beating out of his chest.

Thump, thump, thump.

His pulse is drumming in his neck, hands hang limp by his sides, fists clench and unclench as a recently acquired nervous tic.

We both know what you are thinking, Yuji–…You been driving me crazy with all your hesitation and damsel sighing, you fucking wimp! Stop ignoring me, brat!...If you want I’ll even pretend it is ME who forces your hand.

The curse teases, wickedly, knowing exactly were to press and when to let go to obtain his price.

“This is wrong-g…” the pink haired boy stammers beginning to feel cornered.

What is wrong is to be this frustrated–you pathetic, pampered human.

Yuji’s lack of response send the king of curses a silent warning of the reluctance of his vessel. Forcing the immortal to change his tactic to break his will.

If you lend me control—

“No, fucking way–”

Just hear me out, fucking brat! If you lend me control I can submerge her into deep, catatonic sleep till the sun rises. He generously offers and his ruse is rewarded with his host pondering it. It’s a simple enough curse I can perform in the blink of an eye—

“If I let you loose, you’ll hurt her…” Yuji argues keeping his voice a raspy whisper, imperturbable gaze fix in your pleasantly rising breast. “I wont take that chance.”

Not even one hand…? Sukuna teases, sharp smirk peeking out from Yuji’s left cheek. Only lend me control of one hand and I’ll perform the curse and let you be to play all your sick fantasies in the flesh…

Yuji is looking for the trap, the deceit and lies behind his offer but his heavily clouded thoughts don’t let him think straight. The image you present in front of him is devastatingly tempting and infuriatingly irrefutable now that Sukuna offers him a way to be near you without consequences.

To let his growing necessities be satiated by your peaceful and numb self. He’ll be gentle, he swears.

Maybe just one touch wont hurt. He is not releasing Sukuna just lending him one hand and in the way freeing himself from his infatuation with you.

Yuji truly believes if he is able to play some of the heated scenarios raiding his mind, he’ll free his head from those thoughts cause it is just a whim. A vicious whim which refuses to part ways with him.

He does no understands why you rule his every thought, why his stomach feels like butterflies flying inside, why your eyes seem to look direct into his soul.

Maybe just a touch wont hurt anyone, you wont know and he wont tell.

If by chance we get caught…you can blame it on me. Sukuna’s teeth shine reflecting the light of the full moon trespassing through the open window, sharp and sinister stretched grin deforming the pink haired boy’s face. Yuji this is my last offer…take it or leave it, brat!

Yuji has made his mind and in deliberated firm and quiet steps reaches the door, he glances back at your peaceful and vulnerable form and a long, heavy sigh abandons his lips as his hand hugs the doorknob for a minute too long before lock it.

Good boy. The curse thinks pleasantly surprised. He just needs one hand to guide his most diabolic intentions into your vulnerable core. Stupid and horny, brat! Finally he’ll be of some use.

Muting his real intentions towards this night, he smoothly advices. Go on, let me work my magic.

The boy hesitates one last moment pondering between good and wrong, when suddenly you moan in your sleep and rolling over your back a nipple emerges like a close bud from under the frail and thin layer of snow that knows that summer is here.

Big light-brown eyes fall in trance at how you create such a fragile and lewd symphony just be laying peacefully sleep under the pale rays of moonlight and Sukuna feels how the boy grants control of his left hand.

One hard nipple and this boy is about to blow all over his pants, how pathetic. The king snickers and testing his rule over the limb, closes his fist before ordering.

I need to be closer to be able to touch–

“I want to be the first to touch her.” The boy quickly interjects cutting Sukuna midsentence as a deep blush spreads through his cheeks.

Sukuna laughs on the inside at how touch deprived this boy is but this time can relate to the feeling, for he is aching for pussy as well.

You’ll be the first, stupid brat, after all this is your hand. The king of curses says in a condescending tone, fanning the hand in question in front of the pink haired vessel’s face.

“I g-guess is ok, then.” Yuji pouts and begins to close the distance until his hand hovers over your face.

Sukuna places his thumb over your forehead, lightly and a small glint makes you sigh out loud before your body turns limp as a boneless fish.

Tada! Sukuna boasts, gloating at how Yuji immediately uses his other hand and shakes your body to test the efficiency of the curse.

The boy gently pinches your arm and waits for a reaction and earning none, squeezes your cheeks until your lips form an o-shape, a light grin ghosts over his lips when you stay imperturbably sleep, now he truly feels free to plunge into your skin.

His heart races at the possibilities. Too nervous, he sits on the side of the bed and allows his palm to tenderly graze the side of your uncovered breast just to feel the roundness against his fingertips but is not prepare to the soft, firmness that receives him. A shaky breath leaves his lips and growing hasty, carefully slips you out of your thin tank top in a swift motion which makes your breast freely bounce without the fabric on the way.

Most certainly is not ready to behold your perky breast at full display.

Shit! This girl has a nice rack, who would have guessed you had such good taste in women. Sukuna voices and his possessed hand lands placidly over your left mound and to Yuji’s horror, squeezes hard until the plump flesh is slipping in between his rough fingers and his long, black nails are about to break the skin.

“Knock it off! You are going to hurt her.” Yuji is quick to snatch the borrowed hand by the wrist and the curse opens his fingers.

Oh, I see…you just want me as audience to clap at your performance. He spats, amused. Well, I’m not giving you the hand back… so, take this as your first lesson at sharing.

Pulling the limb out of Yuji’s grasp, Sukuna hooks the index finger in one strap of your panties and without ceremony drags the fabric down your bare legs earning a soft groan from your parted lips.

The pink haired boy is about to reach for the rebel hand when your glistening pussy claims his entire attention. A look of pure lust gleams in his brown eyes and Sukuna seizes his chance to change positions.

His mouth materializes in front of the borrowed open palm and his tongue darts out to give a tentative lick to your engorged lips.

Your body unwittingly trembles and his smirk grows feral.

Lost for words, Yuji glances back at your face when you emit the most sensual little gasp and your body begins to squirm under the king of curses ministrations. His large, fat tongue is licking you like a freshly open lollipop and his saliva is coating your pink lips, each lick delivered with such precision it looks almost painful to bear.

Coming out of the daze, Yuji launches for his hand and unplucks Sukuna’s eager lapping tongue from your wet core.

“I said stop, dammit!”

Agh! What now, human!? He chastises, annoyed at the interruption. It’s pretty obvious you are a vulgar virgin who doesn’t know shit about properly touching a woman…so, pay attention and you may even learn something.

“I’m done with your silver tongue for one night, Sukuna, give me back my hand!” he mutters, angrily.

The moment I give you your fucking hand back her eyes will open wide awake, shitty brat, we have a deal!…I keep her complacent and you lend me a hand…easy peasy! Now stop ruining my fun and get your own!

Yuji feels against the wall and the blade. If you ever find out what he is doing, you’ll hate him and surely never talk to him again. His heart aches just thinking about it and the curse sharing his body senses the fear running through the vessel’s veins.

Too bad, someone is obnoxiously in love…he thinks, patronizingly and knits some dark suggestions for the inexpert boy to follow. He will have his fun but apparently only if this brat stops interrupting.

Tell me, brat, have you ever tasted pussy? He asks, bluntly and Yuji’s face turns as pink as his hair, giving him away.

“Ah-hh…That’s not of your-r business–”

So, no! I can already guess that you haven't done anything fun, you've probably just held her hand for a minute before imploding in your pants. His burst of laughter is cruel but thankfully is short as well.

Unfortunately, I’m a captive witness of how many times you jerk yourself off with this girl’s name as your mantra but what I’m really curious about…Sukuna pauses to transfer his mouth to Yuji’s chest and uses the borrowed hand to held his chin before continue.

…Why are you wasting precious time fighting me when you can have her at your expenses. Fuck her mouth, cum all over her tits, wrap her hand around your cock and make her pump you until you burst—for all I care. Just let me have a little fun, that’s fair deal, isn’t it?

The king of manipulators knew how to pull the strings of temptation fairly well and on purpose had left your cunt out of the proposals, he wanted to enjoy it before the boy destroyed it.

Yuji thinks it through, he may never have another chance to be this near, your so vulnerable like a unwrapped gift waiting for him to claim it. He wants to make you feel as good as you make him feel just by merely breath.

Glancing at your nude figure his crotch sharply awakes to remind him of his promise of release and feeling his heart skip a beat, you stir trashing a little in your sleep and accidentally your hand gently falls on top of his and the pink haired shaman’s will melts like an ice cream under the warm rays of sun.

“Fine-” gulps. “Just promise me you wont hurt her.”

Hurt you? You were going to cum so many times it will hurt but in a good way. But of course that is not what comes out of his mouth. Sarcastically putting his borrowed hand over Yuji’s chest he crosses the boy’s heart. I cross your heart not to hurt her.

Yuji knit his brows at his taunting and Sukuna lazily adds. You know what I mean, princess, don’t be so touchy.

Sharply exhaling air through his nostrils, Yuji releases his wrist and hesitantly, his focus returns to you. His left hand goes out of his line of vision and his eyes widen in awe finally being able to truly admire how pretty you look all relaxed and naked, the moon light washing your nipples and producing a stark contrast with your skin.

In all honesty, Yuji feels spellbound.

Sukuna’s vessel delicately hovers over your sleeping face and gulping, timidly closes the distance until your parted lips are captured by the eager boy in the most slow and devoted kiss anyone could have ever deliver, its intimate and well-thought.

This lip lock is devastatingly tender and meaningful, the way his tongue dances inside your wet mouth ignites your pussy creating new puddles of flavor to the delight of the king of curses furiously lapping at your folds.

Slurp sounds are easily suffocated by the loud moans the pink haired boy emits and separating for sweet air, halts to admire your swollen mouth glistening with his saliva. Feels himself start to loose control and his innocent intentions rapidly turn carnal.

Yuji wants to cover each patch of your soft skin with his fluids, Sukuma was right…he needs to cum on your tits, fuck your mouth and jerk off with your warm palm but he lacks time.

So, he’ll choose his poison for the night and seals your lips for himself with a greedy kiss. His hand gropes your mounds of flesh and relishes in the softness of your bare skin, it feels like silk under his fingertips and it gives him the final push he needs to lose what little restrain he held.

Quickly stripping from his suffocating clothes, he gets back on the bed and hauls your limp body until fits nicely flush to his, skin to skin contact, Yuji takes a moment to enjoy the body heat your proximity produces and taking your arm, gently bends it around his neck for your nipples to greet his face.

Bashfulness is overshadowed by his arousal and he plops the soft flesh into his mouth, devouring your nipples with tentative licks, plunging the hardened nub to tease it with his tongue.

Enthralled forgets about everything and rejoices at how your nipple gets harder and harder the better he sucks, greedily pumping your delicate mound up and down like a newborn.

The king of curses delivers you a third orgasm which shakes your whole body in your tender sleep and opening a diabolic eye is amused out of his mind when sees the supposedly harmless virgin sucking at your nipple as if his life depends on it.

You should try it when there’s milk. His comment is left ignore in the air, for Yuji is willingly slaved by you. Only you exist for him.

Your cunt is trembling from exertion and Sukuna feels satisfied for the moment. He has eat you out like a ravenous beast, almost obsessing with the way your folds twitch and quiver as your juices soak his mouth and now you deserved a well earned rest.

Now you just need to unplug the boy sat on top of your ribcage, straddling you, one hand wrapped around your breast while greedily tries to hump your tits.

The eager teen has change position and his throbbing cock is nested in between your mounds but his task is left incomplete at the lack of pressure.

“Sukuna give me back my hand, I need it!” His voice sounds thick and heavy with want, highly different from his usual merry and easygoing tune.

The vessel is lost on his own pleasure and desperate for release. The curse notes, seeing an opening. Why would I do that, brat? what's there for me? He inquires, sharp eye fixed on his vessel’s back as his body bluntly straddles your torso.

“Hurry up, I want to cum before dawn.” Yuji heaves, truly in despair, throbbing dick unattended and leaking precum. “Please, I need to–”

Cum? Yes, I heard you the first time, brat…be smart and make it good for me. Lets make a deal. He suggests, taking pleasure on the way Yuji’s body desperately squirms on top of you.

“No fucking way!” he curses out loud to then. “—What do you want?”

I want more than a hand, next time. He simply asks.

“There is not going to be a next time–”

Sure, Yuji, sure…but we both know there is going to be and I want more than a hand, you selfish bastard.

“How much more?”

We can deal with that next time…sun is rising you ought to answer fast. The curse teases, sadistic tone hanging from his wicked lips. Tic, tac, tic, tac!

“Fine! Just give me a hand.” The pink haired boy is so lost to despair that he misses his poor choice of words and Sukuna is fast to take advantage.

With pleasure. His voice is raspy and cruel as he engulfs your breast inside his big calloused palm, harsh fingers wrap around its plumpness and his mouth materializes in front of the palm once again to let his tongue swirl your hardened nub.

Yuji sees him lapping at you and even not being a fan of what he is looking at, right now is more occupied using the hand to create pressure around his shaft.

A long, husky groan escapes his throat at the warmth and he starts to pump himself between your abused flesh. Your breast is so perfect for pressing together, creating a delicious massage around his cock.

Eyelids shut and mouth hanging open he can feel himself close, slowly building his orgasm to blow his thick cum all over your face.

“Please (y/n), be mine-e… I need you–… please, stop ignoring me!”

In desperate moans and ravenous speed, his heavy balls tense before his load paints your face with musky ribbons of cum. The boy rides the last sparks of pleasure ripping through his body and his panting chest begins to ease, fresh air fills his lungs, slowly and heartbeat relaxes into a peaceful drum.

Lost in the white state of peace can hear Sukuna’s voice yet his eyes remain close.

Phew! Even I must congratulate you, brat, you made a mess out of your precious darling! The curse mockingly laughs at the image.

You were a real, eye-piercing mess, face dripping with fresh cum, breast glistening from layers of saliva, exposed and abused cunt trembling from overuse. It was a captivating scene for the curse, who thought his vessel was a weak little shit but might be mistaken.

Aiming for the grand finale for their first wicked act–lets hope the kid has the balls for many more. Sukuna’s borrow finger starts collecting beads of cum to plunge it gently inside your parted lips letting the thick milk coat your tongue and slip down your throat.

Yuji’s eyes pop open at the motion and marveled by the filthy action, let the curse feed you his cum until your face is almost clean.

Dawn is upon them and profusely cleaning and making sure to leave your clothes exactly how he found them, the pink haired boy steals one last tender kiss before leave your sore and unknowingly, violated self to rest.

Maybe Sukuna is right and this can be an often occurrence, he wants to memorize all your little bumps, beautiful scars and learn to play you like a violin.

After all, he has to be ready for when you decide to realize that you belong to him and only him.

➡️ JJK NSFW ART

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deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months ago

Text

— mattel

SUMMARY : “it’s been a few years since tfw got out of the life, dean and reader are married, etc. dean’s been a little self-conscious lately—he doesn’t look like how he used to; he’s put on a few pounds. just dean with love handles (PLEASEEEEE dean with love handles lives rent free in my mind) body (dean’s) appreciation, lovey dovey stuff like that. reader taking care of him :))))) dean smut fic!!!!!” - anon

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : Alison (OFC)

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluffy, little angst, shameless horniess, dirty thoughts, size kink ngl

WORD COUNT : 2.9k

A/N : title from an avenged sevenfold song. this fills the square for sex shop on my @jacklesversebingo card. there will be a second part, hehe. xx

“Wow,” you looked around with your lips parted in astonishment at the hundreds of sex toys that covered the wall from top to bottom. “I’ve been missing out.” They had cute names and cute ‘mascots’ stamped on the boxes that held the toys within. You saw bunnies and panda bears and pretty colours like pink, purple, and sky blue.

Dean chuckled behind you and you turned to watch him roll his eyes as he looked to the side. You followed his gaze and you were bombarded with lewd sex books. One of them was open on a bookstand to a page with a man and woman having sex in a position that seemed too acrobatic to actually be pleasurable. You blinked, jaw dropped in shock, and turned your eyes to Dean whose cheeks turned deep red when he met your gaze.

“I’d break something if we tried this!” You exclaimed to make things worse for Dean, and took the same book that resided next to it to quickly flip through it, not nearly as excitedly as you’d hate to admit you were. “This can’t be purely for my enjoyment. Although this one looks hot! Imagine if you did tha- hey!” Dean snatched the book from your hands when two women giggled as they walked around the two of you.

You looked up at him innocently, but mostly seductively when he pulled you into the lingerie section. He shoved the book he’d forgotten about into one of the shelves. Now you knew why he decided to take you this early in the morning. The shop was practically empty after two hours of being open. And Dean, the grumpy morning person he was, hurried you into getting dressed so you could arrive ‘early’ after checking his phone a couple of times. (You imagined he checked the hours and days the shop was less busy and it amused you further.)

“You need to take this seriously,” he murmured, his attention mostly focused on one of the sets above your head. You bit your lip to hide your smirk, but failed and grinned mischievously at him.

“I am!” You pouted, subtly looking at the lingerie set that caught his eye. He gave you a look and you defensively crossed your arms over your chest and turned away from him. “Fine! I’ll pick something, go ask one of the women what they recommend for us, you know, something we can share-”

“What?” Dean suddenly sounded more embarrassed and in disbelief at your request. You could feel him get closer and your skin prickled with foreshadowing excitement.

“Oh, come on.” You turned to punch his arm gently, but he still rubbed the spot. “It’ll be cute to them, just let me look around some more… Please?” He bit his lip thoughtfully and you did the same to hold back a moan at the sight of him in a plain black t-shirt and the same sweatpants he’d abandoned the night before when he made you choke on his dick and beg for him to-

“Okay, baby.” He leaned down to peck your lips and then kissed your forehead as your stomach lurched with elation and your breath bubbled in your chest. You smiled softly at him, your dirty memory evaporating like a puddle in the middle of summer.

You tried to act as casually as you could after stepping out of the dressing room at the back of the sex shop and looked for where Dean was. The same woman—Alison—who’d helped you get away with your secret, winked at you as she talked Dean’s ear off about the toy you figured one of the other employees suggested to Dean.

You carried a small bullet vibrator Alison suggested—for discrete purposes—and a lingerie set. Not the one Dean was staring at earlier, you were currently wearing it beneath your lavender dress. Alison was clearly devious and not judgmental about your request when you’d approached her about it.

Dean visibly relaxed when he saw you and you smiled at him as he thanked Alison. Your eyes dropped to the box and you quickly read Tenuto Mini and you lifted a brow inquiringly at Dean.

“Well, if you have any more questions, I’d be happy to help!” Alison chirped and smiled wide as she walked off. You pursed your lips and watched her long brown hair sway across her back. Suddenly, you began to second-guess your daring move.

“Sweetheart.” Dean’s hand finding yours pulled you out of your flight-freeze state.

“Hey,” you breathed and attempted to smile normally at him, “find something good?”

His eyes slowly moved across your face and you felt your cheeks become warm. Could he read your mind, suddenly? You forced yourself to think of food and your favourite places to have lunch in order to push away your sexual thoughts. Fear is never good for you.

“I dunno,” he murmured unenthusiastically. Your smile fell and concern wrinkled your forehead as you traced the beautiful features of his face to get a read on him.

“What do you mean?” You laughed softly.

“I just… don’t feel…” he trailed off.

“Yeah?” You managed to utter past the knot in your throat.

He stepped closer to you, his gentle hand tapped under your chin in what you think was an attempt to comfort you, and opened his mouth to finally get the moment over with, but he shut it faster than you’d like.

“Dean, what’s-”

“I don’t feel hot… anymore,” he blurted out under his breath.

It was like a cold bath, icy water that killed the fire of both your anxiety and your arousal. You frowned hard, feeling deeply troubled and somewhat hurt by his admission.

“Oh…” you whispered. You watched him bite his lip and longed to be the one who sank your teeth against the plushness of them. You had no idea what to say to him, to comfort him, or even to change his mind about it. You never really considered that he felt that way about himself and part of you wondered when or why he began having those feelings.

“Let’s just go.” He attempted to take the things you were holding, but you felt more confident now about what you were planning. Have you failed as his girlfriend? You were more than happy to prove him wrong by going through with your dirty plan.

“No,” you asserted, “I don’t know when you started feeling that way, but I don’t agree.”

“Let��s… not do this here,” he said quietly, his hand slid up to your elbow. A small group of people entered the store, the bell above the door announced their arrival, and you huffed petulantly. He pulled you closer and you felt agitated—by his words—and wondered how you were even going to play your game out without making him uncomfortable.

“Fine, but we are buying these.” You plucked the toy from his hands and turned away to pay for them yourself before he could argue against it.

The car-ride back home was tense and awkward.

You were horny, upset, troubled, and deep in thought.

Your eyes occasionally drifted over to where Dean sat, his hands wrapped lazily around the steering wheel, legs slightly parted—relaxed. He was deep in thought himself, you could tell by the way he bit his lip and occasionally tapped his thumb against the steering wheel.

You could feel your frown deepening the longer you stared at him and the deeper you fell into the black hole of your thoughts, the more troubled you felt.

How could he not feel hot when you currently wanted to jump his bones and he wasn’t even trying to be sexy? But that was just you. And you had no idea how to comfort him. Or what to say. Just in general, you didn’t know what to do. Would he believe a word you said? Just because you felt it, doesn’t mean he did, too. And that was clear from the way he expressed he felt unattractive, despite the way you were clearly more than pleased to even lay your eyes on him.

He was so beautiful.

For the most part, in the past, you did feel slightly insecure. So you understood how he felt now. But once you started dating, your insecurity went down significantly. And now that the two of you were married, you didn’t doubt for a second that he thought you were beautiful.

Nearly every morning, it was normal for you to express how displeased you were to see him walk out the door for work or having to walk out earlier than him to work yourself. How could it be that he somehow felt not hot when you shamelessly drooled over him in a t-shirt and sweats? You worshipped the ground he walked on and more than loved to be at his mercy.

You hoped at least what happened last night would prove something to him. If the way he had you on your knees, barely allowing you to touch yourself as you took his cock down your throat meant anything to him. Or if the way he made you beg and cry for him to let you orgasm after teasing you with his tongue, fingers, and cock proved anything. You hoped the memory of all of that proved him wrong, basically.

He was all you could think about, always.

Now, your mind was filled with ideas of what you’d do to watch him beg and whimper for you, too. To make him get grabby and rough with you from how much you teased him. To make him delirious by keeping him from his orgasm. To tease him with slow strokes of your hands, your mouth, or your pussy, whatever would make him pound you into the mattress until you came too many times to speak or think coherently.

You wanted to feel him all over your body. You wanted to feel his warm cum inside you. To see the bruises of his fingertips on your hips. To feel the sensitivity and puffiness of your nipples from his mouth. To feel raw and tender and wet between your legs from whatever he decided to use to please you. To feel the soreness in your muscles of having been fucked.

You wanted to see the fierce possessiveness in his green eyes. To kiss the red blush on his freckled cheeks. To hear the arousing sounds of his pleasure rumbling deeply through his chest. To watch the mind-numbing pleasure contort his beautiful face. To see and feel the way his body became taut and tense as it moved with yours.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“What?” It was when you turned to look at him that you felt your thighs relax slightly. They were slick with your arousal and you were only half-ashamed about it. You felt hotter than you already were and shifted your hips shamelessly, only to feel the Impala’s air-conditioning cool the wetness of your neediness against your cunt. Your eyes fell to his hand as it wrapped around your thigh, his fingers squeezed the sides and you instantly imagined him doing it to your neck. You felt a rapid jolt of pleasure on your clit and pressed your lips together as you caught yourself imagining the look on his face if he dared to sneak his fingers higher to feel the dampness of your arousal against your inner thighs. You attempted to remain composed. “I’m fine,” you smiled, then bit your lip to save yourself from smiling too much or not enough.

He looked at you for a few moments and your heart only began to beat faster with each passing second. Dean turned slightly to face you and you realised that you were home when you caught a glimpse of your neighbour’s lemon tree out of the corner of your eye.

What you’d give to ask Dean to steal some off the branches that hung over on your side of the yard. Just to watch his shirt ride up, to reveal his sun-kissed skin, with his sweats hanging low on his hips, his arms flexing to reach the juiciest and perfect lemons for you-

“You’re not mad are you?” Dean’s hand slid up your thigh to grasp your hip and you held your breath—hoping he’d pull you into his lap.

“What? Of course not!” You breathed out when he squeezed gently, awaiting your response. He sighed softly in relief and smiled, his hand moved away and you frowned at the loss of his touch. “I’m… horny,” you admitted bravely and watched his eyes widen and his face turn red.

“Really?” He chuckled breathlessly. He suddenly looked more confident and relaxed. He leaned forward, brushed your hair off your shoulder with his hand, and let his nose tease your jaw as the scent of your flowery perfume made his brain foggy.

You shivered and knew you were already too far gone to play any games with him. You felt his lips ghost against your neck, one of his hands held your elbow, and his other hand moved your hair out of the way on the other side of your face. You somehow felt wetter than before and unbuckled your seatbelt to climb into his lap.

Dean’s laugh died down to a moan when you kissed him and his hands found your waist on instinct. “I really need you to fuck me,” you breathed against his parted lips.

He had the audacity to smirk at you and brought his hands back up to your face to kiss you again instead. He was gentler, slower than you could handle at the moment. His thumb brushed against your warm cheekbone and his fingers tangled in your hair and you wished he would pull on it—hard—as he made you ride his cock.

You whined against his mouth, so he shut you up with his tongue sliding in between your lips to meet yours. Your arousal felt uncomfortable between your legs and your skin began to heat up even more the harder your heart pounded in your chest. You ached for him. Your body ached for him. You wanted to feel him where he’d been a million times before and your body tingled excitedly at the thought of his touch.

You moved his hand from your face and guided it between your bodies so he could feel just how desperate and serious you were about your request. He continued to kiss you, allowing you to guide him. Your lips tingled with endless desire and he soothed your need by sucking on your lip and nibbling possessively on your reddened flesh. He gasped against your mouth and nearly choked on his whimper when his fingertips grazed your lace panties, now completely soaked in your wetness.

You pulled away slightly to catch your breath and he pushed your underwear to the side to feel your slippery folds and entrance. It was embarrassingly easy the way he slipped two of his thick fingers into your. He moaned appreciatively when you panted hard against his flushed cheek and he squirmed, biting hard on his lip.

You began to undulate your hips when he perfectly curled his fingers against your walls and thumbed at your swollen clit, keeping your wet folds spread apart with his index and pinky finger. “Make me finish, Dean. Fuck, I need to cum so bad,” you begged shamelessly, practically fucking yourself on his fingers, in his car, in broad daylight, of all things.

On any other occasion, you’d be utterly ashamed, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to end the pleasure of finally having Dean’s touch right where you needed him. He was so good at making you feel hot and bothered, and you were so ready and wet, you could even hear the abundance of your arousal with every movement of your hips.

You released his wrist and sneaked your hand into his sweats, tried to find the waistband of his underwear, but instead you felt his hardened length ready against your fingers. You inhaled sharply, felt the way your pussy pulsed excitedly around his fingers, and brushed your own lower to feel the already-smeared precum on the tip of his cock.

“Oh… fuck,” Dean murmured, wavering before his fingers slipped out of you, “not here.”

You expressed your complaint with an irritated moan, but removed your hand from inside his pants despite feeling only minimally motivated to obey him. “You’re not wearing anything underneath… And I’m somehow supposed to contain myself?”

His laugh was breathy and quiet against your mouth. “I don’t remember this being what you wore under your dress,” he attempted to change the subject with his accusatory tone. He bit his lip, gazing at you through those beautiful lashes of his when you forced yourself away from him. He wasn’t fully capable of hiding the mischief in his green eyes and you inhaled deeply, smiling, hoping to resist the urge to ask again for him to claim you in his car.

“I think we are both equally surprised at what we’ve found beneath each other’s clothes.”

Dean’s playful grin was followed by laughter he couldn’t contain, a glorious sound that made the millions of dormant butterflies scatter in your stomach. You exhaled shakily and admired him, before making the wise choice of taking the bag containing your new merchandise before escaping the warmth of his car.

Dean called your name happily, but you ignored him when you heard the sexy rumble of his engine die. You stole the key from the pot containing yellow daffodils as the Impala’s door creaked shut with that same sound that brought hope to you whenever he came back home to you again.

-> mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix

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tmblrcolouredpaper · 3 months ago

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Clothes with TXT

OT5 TXT; 5 scenarios member/ reader wc: 1178

🧸 Yeonjun

he'd get matching underwear with you.

In general he'd be a sucker for clever matching outfits, but nothing would beat wearing the same design of underwear during a night in together with you.

lounging around only in briefs, he'd melt seeing you appearing with the same minimal amount of fabric on your body.

when lying down with you, are close, thin fabric on thin fabric and the rest of touch being directly skin on skin, he wouldn't be able to avoid glancing down, seeing his sensitive parts matching yours with such conscious intention.

it's not just matching colors or minimalistic designs, he'd feel so much giddy joy seeing some cute designs facing each other, maybe beige underwear with cute little bears on them or silly ducks.

his favorite would logically be pandas.

when you're outside, wearing completely different genres of clothes, secretly only underwear matching, he'd feel so proud, smirking at the privat coordination of life, the intimate moment of getting ready together precious to him.

and when it's not a mutual decision, but a coincidence that he discovers when you find your way back to another at night, stripping down to take a shower, he'd throw himself at you with the happiest hug. He just loves finding familiarity in you.

shopping trips include getting matching underwear. To people's entertainment, you'd probably stand there arguing while holding up random pairs of panties. It doesn't matter what section you're in, men's clothes, women's clothes, who cares. You just want to find the cutest little piece of fabric to add to your collection.

🧸 Soobin

he's such a winter inspiration to me, so I think of scarfs, gloves, and any warm fuzzy clothes.

he'd wrap you up, put a huge scarf around your neck, carefully put gloves on your painfully freezing hands after he tries warming them with his breath.

at home, he'd have a large collection of fuzzy socks for you, cute designs and pinterest-y overknee pairs.

he'd put them on you, pulling them up slowly and once having your feet warm, he'd pull your legs into his lap caressing the soft fabric in such a manner that you could just fall asleep like that.

especially during stormy winter nights, he'd have you in only a shirt, underwear and overknee socks in his bed beside him. With one arm he'd hold you close and with his free hand, he'd have his palm run up and down your dressed leg to warm and calm you.

when he's in a playful mood, he'd tuck on the hem of your socks, pulling them up and down, tickling you oh so lightly until you get a bit annoyed at him, because it also means you'd be shifting more of your attention to him.

🧸 Beomgyu

matching accessories. Only both of you already wearing a cap when going out together, he'd find it so cool.

For fancy dinner dates, he'd enjoy matching belts or both of you wearing a tie.

It doesn't have to be cute or a huge sign of connection, he'd just enjoy feeling good in his clothes and having you match his energy. It gives him an ego boost, assures him of himself and his taste, that he is someone who can be seen as orientation and some sort of role model.

Having you maybe exploring your style with his in mind, would make him grow more curious of his own possibilities, too.

It's just fun for him.

In a more domestic realm, he'd love seeing you wearing matching slippers. You'd just buy a 2 for 1 set. It's practical and lets him feel like he's truly living life together with you.

On more serious occasions he'd aim for jewelry, bracelets or necklaces with matching charms, little engravings, such as each one half of a sentence.

On dates he'd love handcrafting colorful pieces with you, bold pearls and cotton candy coloured strings braided into memories of carefree moments with you. They're his lucky charms and he feels even luckier when he sees you wearing them with the same enthusiasm.

🧸 Taehyun

simple, yet impactful having-you-wear-his-shirt-type-of-guy

whether it's at home or outside, he loves seeing how you make his clothes look like.

he lets you pick shirts for him, having in mind that you would wear them, too.

sometimes you like to mess with him, suggesting shirts you know he wouldn’t like, silly ones, immensely cute ones or extravagant shirts with attached bows. He’d sigh, shake his head, but go back to the store by himself from time to time to get the shirt, having you find it in his closet.

he’d go full out when you ask him to give you a private fashion show, throwing all his silly poses into the room, gifting the pieces of fabric a whiff of his energy that makes you giggle whenever you wear the shirts.

when it’s about his personal favorite shirts he’s be a bit reluctant at first, but when he sees you treating them with such care, not eating in them to keep them stain free, wearing them truly when you need to be just a bit closer to him, making the feeling of having company in life more present, he’d gently help you get dressed in his clothes.

he’d have his hands linger on you, smoothing out the fabric on your body, automatically caressing in a calming manner.

all of it is just something that would happen alongside daily happenings. It’s nothing deeply thought through, but casual joyful endearments between you.

🧸 Kai

would throw his hoodie at you.

his main intention not being that it's cute, but that it's simply practical.

Why would you buy hoodies and such, when he could open his own store with the amount of pieces he has?

however, once you start returning them to him, one by one, with your scent on them, he'd start melting, adoring the routine he carelessly introduced.

giggly, kicking his feet, falling asleep in them, wearing them in situations that stress him out, make him feel anxious, he'd start relying on shared clothes.

some hoodies become destined to be your clothes of sadness, catching his and your silent tears. Whenever he finds a wettened hoodie you were currently wearing discarded on your bed, he'd search for you to hold you.

when he silently drowns his sadness in the mixture of his hoodie and your scent, you'd know when he throws it into the washing machine.

hoodies become a way of communicating hard feelings with another.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚｡ 🧸⋆୨☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★୧⋆ ˚｡ 🧸⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★୧⋆ ˚｡ 🧸⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆🧸If you enjoyed reading this, you might also like:

🧸Sleepy Scenarios with TXT

🧸You Are Changing with TXT

🧸When TXT is making you comfortable

🧸When TXT is having a secret crush on you (sleepy scenarios)

🧸Holding Hands with TXT

#tomorrow x together fluff #tomorrow x together #txt fluff #txt sfw #txt imagines #txt scenarios #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun fluff #choi soobin fluff #soobin x reader #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu x reader #taehyun fluff #taehyun x reader #huening kai x reader #huening Kai fluff

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kats-fic-recs · 2 years ago

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The Best Haikyuu fics I read in 2022

Iwaoi

Lost in Translation

Because misfortune come in threes, Iwaizumi Hajime starts his Thursday having a screaming fight with Shittykawa, spends his lunch break listening to the UCI women's volleyball team gossiping about how Ushijima Wakatoshi had gone public about his longtime love affair with Oikawa Tooru, and closes out the day by drunkenly dropping his phone into a sewer grate.

just hear me out

To stimulate Japan's low birthrates and take most of the guesswork out of dating, a beeper system was biologically developed in people's wrists, an audible confirmation to show romantic compatibility.

Iwaizumi's beeper has been going off for Oikawa since they've been kids. Oikawa's has only ever been silent.

In Defense of Reptiles (and Other Gross Things)

In their seventh year, Oikawa is chosen to be the Hogwarts champion in the Triwizard Tournament, and Iwaizumi suffers.

to be first, to be best

Hajime is apparently something of a masochist, and as he stares down at the tie-dyed AREA51 T-shirt in his hands, he thinks “I’m totally in love with this asshole, aren't I?”

evergreen

It’s exhausting to realize that he still knows Oikawa. He has no idea what stores Oikawa shops at anymore, which bands he’s been listening to lately, whether he still keeps plants in his apartment and whether they’re dying without Iwaizumi around to remind him to water them. But he knows how rain tastes on Oikawa’s lips in the summer and the drumbeat baseline of Oikawa’s heart under his palm, and there are some people you never really grow out of no matter how many other things change.

“When you left,” Iwaizumi says, swallowing against a scratchy throat, “I tried hard, for a long time, not to need you. You can’t blame me for being angry that it was easier for you to leave than it was for me to let you go.”

Ten years after he rejected Iwaizumi's marriage proposal, Oikawa is back in Sendai.

no love like your love

It happens when Daniel is rushing from the food court to the CS building, juggling his phone and a water bottle and a Panda Express takeout container. His lunch date with the cute girl from French class had gone longer than it should have, and he’s too worried about being late to pay any mind to the incoming call that flashes across his screen. Beyond noting that the number is international, he thinks nothing of it, declines, and moves on.

The person calls again, though, in the middle of the lecture, and he has to scramble to silence his phone before his professor can single him out.

By the time the period is over, he has five more missed calls and a text.

From: +81-XXX-XXX-XXXX

is this daniel? iwa-chan’s roommate? call me back when you’re available!!

Sometimes a love is so bright that those outside it can't help but bear witness.

Or: Iwaizumi and Oikawa from 5 + 1 points of view through the years.

heaven is a place in my head

For Iwaizumi, it’s a relief to be able to linger in the cocoon of this intermediate summer, blanketed from the buffeting winds of adulthood and responsibility and real decisionmaking. He would love nothing more than for it to stretch out and out and out, like a bubblegum bubble that spreads itself thin around the air trapped inside it until it pops.

But Oikawa has never liked having nothing to do. He gets restless if he’s bored for too long, starts feeling like he’s running out of time or something dumb like that. So Iwaizumi is almost expecting it when Oikawa barges into his room the afternoon of a heavy summer shower, overgrown bangs dripping rainwater into his eyes, a waterlogged piece of paper crumpled in his fist and a familiar hopeful gleam in his eyes.

When Oikawa convinces Iwaizumi to spend their last summer in Japan as camp counselors, Iwaizumi is prepared for bug bites, sunburns, and rowdy children.

He’s not prepared to spend two weeks kissing his best friend in what might just be the worst thought-out summer fling in existence.

— with melting wax and loosened strings

"If Oikawa is Hajime’s home — is Japan — then this room is his shrine. And Oikawa stands in the centre of it, eyes wide and mouth agape."

Hajime is a visual artist. He's been in love with Oikawa for such a long time that his hands know every curve and bend to Oikawa's figure. But now, with thousands of kilometres and hours between them, Iwaizumi is starting to forget Oikawa's features. It's enough to send him spiralling.

Or, 'Devotion, (2020, colourised)'.

Look For Him

She laughs gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so heartbroken before, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi sighs and prods at the mackerel with a chopstick. “Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s just different, you know? Like Oikawa pissed me off so much that now he’s not here I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“But you weren’t always annoyed with him, were you?” his grandmother smiles serenely and takes a sip of her tea. “My, my, Hajime, old women see everything. I saw you out there with my finches, when you were kissing Tooru’s nose. Your mother and father used to do the very same thing, you know, when they were younger. And look how long they’ve lasted. I hope you and Tooru last, Hajime. He’s very good for you.”

Oikawa has kissed Iwaizumi more times than either of them can count; it’s a constant thing, their lips never really leaving the other’s skin. There are, however, times when they’ve kissed that are burned into their memories. Eight of them, to be precise.

Cup of sugar

After about a month of his time in Irvine, the first package arrives. It’s standing there, on the table, big and heavy and exuding a familiarity that nearly brings tears to Hajime’s eyes.

“That’s really sweet,” Kevin says, eyeing Hajime’s valiant attempts to cut into the cardboard with a knife, “from your family?”

“My boyfriend,” Hajime clarifies, eyes not even straying to the return address. “That idiot’s the only one who would send me something after one month of being apart.”

Tooru and Hajime go long-distance, and Hajime contemplates whether he's accidentally become a sugar baby.

iwaizumi hajime has a ring

Iwaizumi Hajime has a ring on his finger.

A simple gold band with modest silver trimming resting snuggly on the fourth finger of his left hand.

Hajime is only 23 years old, is only in the midst of the second year of his post-graduate degree, and to Charlie’s apparently outdated knowledge, has been single at the very least since his move to America a little over a year ago.

Imagine his surprise when the dude came waltzing back after a month-long break, with a wedding ring on his finger, legally wed, and not speaking a word about it.

In which Hajime gets married and his friends in California have no idea who the lucky woman is.

KuroKen

And if you leave, will you promise you'll find your way back to me?

“Then it’s settled,” Kuroo says. “I’m going to call you every day, until you get sick of me.”

I could never get sick of you, Kenma thinks but doesn’t say. I think it’s going to be the other way around.

Or: the one where Kuroo goes to university and Kenma tries to deal with missing him, perhaps more than one should miss their best friend.

Show A Little Faith

“Why are you sending me a singing Valentine telegram?" Kenma asks, mouth flattened. "It’s six months until Valentine’s Day.”

“I bought a dwarf over the summer to use as cupid.” Kuroo says. “I figured he could use some practice.”

Presenting Kenma as the Boy-Who-Lived, whose living becomes a lot more interesting when Ravenclaw Prince Kuroo Tetsurou starts sending him singing telegrams about defeating the Dark Lord.

you're the brake lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway)

Kenma thinks that Kuroo looks ugly with his head bent against the arm of the couch like that. Then Kenma thinks that he wants to marry him, and is promptly thrown into the 5 stages of grief.

the book of love is long and boring

“Since when did you become the all-knowing authority on love,” Kuroo teases as he rests his chin on Kenma’s bed, and Kenma bristles before a frown mars his face.

Because it’s not like Kuroo’s wrong.

Kenma's never really thought much about love, until an assignment from class forces him to. And then suddenly, it's the only thing that's on his mind.

teach me the way home

Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —

because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Kuroo and Kenma grow up in transit.

My Nameless World (I’ll Let You In)

It’s a modest two-bedroom in the western suburbs, far enough from the bustling crowds to be affordable but still counting, technically, as Tokyo. They’re noisy before they sleep but quiet when they rise, shuffling mutedly out of the door for joint morning runs before bursting back into the apartment for joint morning showers. Shouyou cooks breakfast while Kageyama packs their lunch and gym bags, and they never share a goodbye kiss because they always leave together.

It’s warm and cozy and disgustingly domestic, and it’s probably everything Shouyou’s ever dreamed of.

Except, Kenma thinks irately, Kageyama doesn’t actually live here.

===

Shouyou moves in with Kenma when he ends up in Tokyo for college. Kenma subsequently realizes that half the things in Shouyou’s boxes are actually Kageyama’s because he should have fucking known.

Kagehina

well, maybe i'm a crook

The thing is-- Hinata is in love with Kageyama and everyone knows it, including Kageyama.

by this time next year

"I got offers from two universities," Kageyama announces, pointing at his chest with his thumb. "I'm going to play volleyball at Keio this spring."

"You still have to pass an exam, even if it's an easy one," Takeda-sensei hurries to add, although he is beaming and bursting with pride at his fluffy little crow chick taking off to play volleyball at a university level.

"I'll pass," Kageyama says with the same kind of confidence he uses when he tells Hinata he'll get the toss to him. He looks straight at Hinata, and Hinata jerks and turns red, wondering if maybe Kageyama knew he was daydreaming about something as stupid as the way Kageyama talks to him during a game. But then Kageyama just points at him and says, "You'd better get in, too."

Hinata, stupid, naive, idiot that he is, grins wide and nods and says, "Yeah!"

He doesn't know what he's in for.

Bokuaka

daisy rings and frivolous things (i am deliriously in love with you)

Akaashi Keiji is in love. Bokuto Koutarou is a star. Everyone on Fukurodani has a gambling problem.

paper rings

Akaashi Keiji knows his relationship with Bokuto Koutarou has an expiration date. It was inevitable. Even the best things must end. Especially with Bokuto's dreams of volleyball stardom on the line, they don't have any other choice. Akaashi has made his peace with that.

Bokuto has other ideas.

surfacing

Keiji’s boyfriend has been cheating on him. During their public confrontation, he ends up walking out with the other man - Bokuto Koutarou. They strike up an unlikely friendship born from the bond of heartbreak, and, eventually, help one another to heal parts of themselves they perhaps hadn't even known were broken.

Alternatively: Bokuto tries to set Akaashi up with a rebound to make up for being “the other man.” It both does and does not go according to plan.

notice me kouhai

This was definitely, somehow, Bokuto's fault.

the strange music of your heart

"Hey," Konoha says, tone hushed, one day after practice when he and Bokuto end up staying behind together. "Akaashi likes you, you know?"

Bokuto is in the process of putting on a clean shirt. "Of course he does," he says, voice too close to his ears under the fabric. "We're friends!" He pulls the shirt down, freeing his head. "What," he says, suddenly self-conscious, "does someone not like me?"

in which akaashi falls for bokuto first.

Miscellaneous

Experimental Probability

Atsumu stares blankly back at him. "So, let me get this straight. Ya want me to kiss ya so you can tell whether or not yer in love with my brother?"

Rin winces at his word choice. "Not exactly how I would have phrased it, but yeah, pretty much."

Or: Suna Rintarou is not in love with his best friend. Scientific evidence would suggest otherwise.

Close to the Chest

It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

seam-ripper

Asahi’s life is prone to falling apart at the very seams, something he has been aware of since his unfortunate birth approximately sixteen long, hard years ago. Due to the infallible accuracy of this fact, Asahi begins his second year of high school by getting involved in his very first physical altercation; he is subsequently subjected to what might be considered the most embarrassing social situation of the decade. And to top it all off with the perfect catastrophe cherry on the disaster sundae that is Asahi’s miserable existence, Suga is laughing at him.

Or, the story of Asahi and Nishinoya’s near-disastrous get-together.

hair smell

“Actually,” Takahiro starts, uncharacteristically serious. “You… Your hair smells nice.”

“My hair?” Issei blinks.

Takahiro nods. “Yeah.” He reaches a hand up, but doesn’t run his fingers through the curls—instead, he pushes them in at his scalp and scratches. He’s clearly very careful not to ruin the frizzy tangles on Issei’s head that are only achievable by means of product, air drying, and then sleeping-but-not-really on rough cotton pillowcases. The gesture is personal; it worms its way into Issei’s heart and takes root there, squeezing tight, pulsing in time with each of his heartbeats.

“I don’t know what it is,” Takahiro confesses. His face is still serious, but the line of his brow is definitely easing. “Your product? Conditioner?”

Issei shrugs. He didn’t even know about his hair smell until just now.

“But, anyway,” Takahiro continues, and he maintains steady eye contact, although his voice is suddenly small. “Sometimes I’ll smell it on someone else, and it makes me think of you.”

“Oh,” Issei says.

the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or, the fine art of emotional recognition)

It's stupid. Atsumu isn't a romantic, no matter how many times he's imagined laying Sakusa out and finally really touching him.

So there's no explanation for why Atsumu is constantly stuck thinking about brushing his fingertips against the meat of Sakusa's palms or the prominent tendons in his freaky wrists.

There's no explanation for why doing dishes sets off a warm burn in his ribcage, or why when he smells disinfectant he inhales like he's walking past a bakery.

Yer doin' this to me, he thinks furiously, as Sakusa derails his thoughts with kisses that come more and more frequently now. Yer conditionin' me, and I can't stop it.

Tending to a Wounded Heart

“Now, Iwaizumi-san, while I am flattered by your interest and must admit you’re very attractive, I must inform you my heart belongs to another, and I’m not sure your dear captain Oikaw-“ Satori wasn’t even able to finish his jest, as a fuming Iwaizumi interrupted him. A blush blooming from his hairline down to his neck.

“I’M NOT HITTING ON YOU, DUMBASS!”

...

After being discovered in the midst of breakdown in the bathroom of Seijoh, Tendou Satori strikes up an unusual friendship with Iwaizumi who seems keen on helping Tendou navigate his own unrequited feelings, despite ignoring his own.

All the while Tendou's teammates are becoming more and more concerned with their blocker's new behavior and mysterious texting buddy.

No more time to waste

Tsukishima Kei has a theory: crushes were originally conceived as a cosmic torture device. Now, he doesn’t exactly have a broad sample size to study, being completely unwilling to engage with either Hinata or Kuroo’s pining for their resolutely-stoic best friends, but it’s true from his experience. He has it worse than them, at any rate. His best friend is the furthest thing imaginable from stoic.

Tsukishima suffers through training camp in a heatwave. His infuriatingly attractive best friend does absolutely nothing to help.

my heart beats for contract law

"You had an emotional breakdown in a McDonalds drive-through."

"Mmm."

"And proposed to me."

"Shhh."

"In a McDonalds drive-through, Hiro."

Takahiro huffs out a nervous laugh, keeping his eyes closed. "You love it," he repeats, nuzzling closer.

Mint and Pine

Yahaba yanks at Kyoutani’s uniform in the club room and ties his tie so tight after morning practice that sometimes Kyoutani thinks he’s trying to fucking strangle him.

don't bother checking my work (i've never cared for math anyway)

It isn’t until Shirabu’s back at LOCCENT that it really sinks in. Forty-eight wins? An impressive number, true, and a definite sign of Ushijima’s strength, especially compared to Tendou. But in anyone else, an unbalanced score like that would indicate a depressingly low chance of drift compatibility.

Drifting with Ushijima was simple statistically, but potentially deadly realistically. And drifting with Tendou? A veritable nightmare. If not for Washijou’s insistence, Shirabu would have dropped him long ago.

Still, something is calling to him. Something beyond numbers and data projections.

Because Ushijima may have knocked Tendou down forty-eight times. But that means there were forty-nine times he got back up.

Overflow

He laid his palm flat over Asahi’s jaw, almost shivering when the sparks fluttered up his arm and settled in his chest. His thumb came to rest in the little dip below Asahi’s lower lip, the skin there quivering with the tremble of Asahi’s mouth.

Glancing away from where he’d been intently watching the path of his fingers, Yuu found Asahi’s eyes wide open, with terror or awe it was hard to tell. And it hit him then what he’d just been doing.

Well, not really hit him. It sank into him, slow and staticky and warm and anxious—the realization that he’d never touched anybody like this before.

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ultimateaclrecovery · 13 days ago

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Japan Day 11 (from my trip last November, but this is the last one!)

Last day in Tokyo and travel home!

Started the day with some more temple and some cute bridges with a bunch of koi

And then it was mostly shopping for last minute souvenirs and things that are cheaper in Japan. So here are some more fun Disney pictures!

Ended the trip by finally getting the panda cream puffs from stand right by our hotel transit stop, and then it was homeward bound! I celebrated being home by using my new bear shaped pancake maker to keep the cute food going.

What a wonderful trip!

Overly long travel diary (read if bored)

Day 11

Started our day fairly early with free hotel breakfast and then took the train to see tokyos temple. It had a cool pagado and a garden with a bunch of koi but I admit to being a little templed out at this point. We spend the rest of our morning time before the airport shopping. We start at the little stall market by the temple that is just starting to open. I get a bird shaped custard to eat right then 80 yen. And a box set of fun ct character custards to eat later. And a little lantern that I will make a Christmas ornament, best part I get a 500 yen coin so now I have the full set.

We then go to a grocery for snacks and then a don Quito for more snacks and weird things. I get some snacks and some socks for my brothers girlfriend.

Then we go look at fancy tea and dish ware for my bf. He gets a sake set and a tea set and a get a little heart shaped mold for making rice balls. We then go to Tokyo station for ramen and back to the character store so I can get the penguin in a Christmas tree that I’ve been thinking about all week. It’s smaller than I had built it up in my head but it’s still so cute so I get it even tho it is over priced and silly. It’s cute and makes me happy. I look for other things I might want but don’t really find anything.

We then head back out to do more shopping and whatnot at a normal mall. Anthony gets normal things like socks and underwear because they are cheaper here and we find our dads matching Japanese shirts. They are nicer than ones we’ve seen at the souvenir shops. I really want a womens cut shirt but I don’t think they have any. They have some fun womens graphics and I find one I really like but it’s only in large. We realize you can print the designs on different shirts or design your own but can’t quite figure it out. I try asking the guy working there if I can get the one I like in a medium and luckily he knows enough English to figure what I’m asking and sets it all up. I then have to go buy the medium shirt and then get it to printing people. I manage to do it successfully but only because the workers know some English. Although they keep trying to explain things to me in Japanese before giving up and pointing at their English signs or trying use what English they know. I worry as I get printed that maybe I should’ve gotten a small but it’s cotton so it will shrink a little so it should be fine.

We head back to towards the hotel and get vending machine drinks on the way, can’t believe I made it this far without using a vending machine. I use some of what’s left of my ic card for a 180 yen grape Fanta. I love me some things that are purple even tho I don’t normally like pop. I got my ic card down to like 200 yen so I did pretty good job there.

And then it’s off to buy panda custards! They’ve been selling them at the train station nearest our hotel and I’ve wanted them since we’ve got here.

Then collect our bags from the hotel and head to the bigger train station to get tickets for the train to the airport. It’s a special one so can’t just use your ic card.

At the airport we mostly breeze through security except I forgot a tiny water bottle in my backpack from the flight out here oops. And then we go to the liquor store so my bf can get fun liquor and I buy one of the bottle for him since the us it’s only one tax free per person.

We stop by at another store just to see and I find the cutest howls moving castle tote bag. It’s a little over priced (ghibli plus airport) but it’s the cutest tote bag I’ve seen here so I get it.

I then get ice cream with my remaining, non souvenir coins.

The flight is uneventful and then his parents give us a ride back to his place my first time meeting them which is a little overwhelming after traveling for so long. I take a 20 dollar lyft back from his place and then it’s home sweet. I crank my heat back up to normal and start to unpack.

General thoughts.

The toilets here can be so fancy. Minus the one public restroom one just in the street that was just the hole in the ground. But any western toilets have bidets and a lot of them are fancy enough to lift up their kids when you walk into the room. My favorite tho is the public restrooms with little speakers that can play water music at the push of a button. Anthony thinks this is to cover the sounds of peeing or pooping but I think the rushing water is also to help you go.

#Japan #day 11 #travel diary #I’m finally done!#just in time for the next trip lol

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sercezgazety · 11 months ago

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For all the times he thought about fucking Herbert West, Dan never imagined there would be a press coverage.

The pictures they draw in the courtroom are kinda hilarious. Herbert looks like a feral child, even shorter than in real life, unnaturally pink lips curled in a permanent snarl, and eyes ridiculously large. “The artist must have really wanted to be a gothic novel illustrator,” Herbert snorted back when they were still talking to each other. The way he said artist didn’t suggest irony, just distaste. Dan wasn’t spared from this kind of creative exaggeration either, by the way, his cheeks so hollow and circles around his eyes so dark, he looked like a skeleton in the first pictures. That was before he started stress-eating, that is, though the dark circles never go away. By the end of the trial, Dan from courtroom sketches resembles a very sad panda bear.

The moment Cornell took care of the bail — huge, but also ridiculously small, considering Herbert’s capabilities of causing harm — he apparently decided Herbert needed a makeover. He wasn’t stupid, he never told Herbert to smile for the cameras; there’s no world in which that could end well. It’s impossible to make Herbert with his speech patterns and his stare appear likeable, but Cornell did have his client memorize some lines that made him sound almost reasonable. Nothing too grand: not a word about defying God, no personal opinions on the value of an individual life in the great scheme of things. A scientific breakthrough, yes, and the methods were perhaps a bit unorthodox, but if we were to wait for the bureaucrats to find the right stamps in their desk drawers, the society would never get anywhere. The system’s rigged. Huge pharmaceutical companies have the proper resources to deal with all that paperwork and red tape, they have the money to send entire ethics committees on “scientific conferences” (the quotation marks are not performed with fingers but with a disdained grimace). Those are luxury cruises, actually, did you know? Glorified bribes. In this day and age, the little guy can do next to nothing. There’s no way for an independent researcher to act by the book and get any results. Just imagine how many breakthroughs we’ve all been robbed of by this system. And why? Because of ethical standards, as the industry would have you believe? Oh no. You see, they don’t care about progress, they don’t care about helping people or curing diseases the way the little guys do. They don’t care about us, Herbert recites, smoothly asserting himself as one of human beings. They want money. He holds his head high, and there’s fire in his eyes, the kind Dan’s grown to be wary of. One newspaper calls him charismatic.

The scientific rigor was upheld at all times during his research, Herbert tells the press, and Dan just knows he’s physically refraining from following rigor with mortis. Cornell decides that looking like an undertaker is not doing his client any favors, and finds a well-cut checkered suit in a reasonable shade of gray. Concessions need to be made. It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong, and with the azure tie, Herbert looks so ridiculous, he might as well be wearing a Hawaiian shirt with a tramp stamp peeking out from underneath it.

“Do you know this man?” the prosecution asks Dan, pointing to this all-new, normal and respectable doctor, and Dan wants to say, no. That’s not Herbert, that’s someone else entirely. But he just nods. There’s a lump in his throat whenever he looks in the other defendant’s direction. Herbert’s doing his best not to show his discomfort with the bright colors and alien textures, but Dan knows him well enough to be aware he’s this close to tearing the clothes off.

Dan, on the other hand, doesn’t get any specific instructions on what to wear, except for ditching shirts that Ms. Rhiannon — Miss, she insists — proclaimed Byronic. There are women on the jury, she explains, but there are also husbands who don’t like their wives swooning over defendants. But besides that, be yourself.

When he puts on a sweater vest and a corduroy jacket, his lawyer claps her hands in delight. Perfect, she decrees. The ideal boy next door, no longer a paperback romance hero, oh no. Calm, friendly, reliable, one you’d want to grab a beer or a coffee with. She bats her eyelashes at that last part, though maybe Dan’s just imagining things. By the time the trial’s over, there’s no batting eyelashes at him anyway, just thirty extra pounds, gray hairs that suddenly got there despite the weird bald patches, and the humiliation of crying in front of a camera and not having any tissue. It takes him over a year to get back in shape, but it seems the liver spots are there to stay.

for angst, doomed middle aged men yaoi, and courtroom bathrooms continue reading here

(each chapter can work as a standalone, I think)

#danbert #herbert west #dan cain #daniel cain #re-animator #reanimator #re animator

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

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HELLO PANDA DARLING <33 Firstly, I'd like to give you a HUGE congratulations on your 500 follower milestone!!! It's so incredibly well deserved!! We're all so proud of you <3 May you continue thriving and never suffer from writer's block 😎

SECONDLY I have a smut request for all the slutty bitches out there (it's me. I'm slutty bitches 💅). I would please like “Shall we put that mouth to better use?” with Javi P because we all KNOW he's the absolute KING of brattamers.

THANKS BABE <33 I SEND LOVE, STAY SPICY ❤‍🔥

HELLO YOU PERFECT DARLING 🧡 Firstly, thank you so much - you have no idea how much this means to me! I'm so happy that you're hear and you're enjoying what I'm producing, it means the world to me!

I'm sorry it took a while to get round to this request - I've had a mental week - but it's hot here in London and I can't bring myself to anything else so I'm working on more of these prompts! I'm not great at brat tamer!Javi, so this is ROUGH. I AM SORRY. But I hope you enjoy it still.

I LOVE YOU 🫶🏼

Pairing | Javier Pena x Female Reader

Word Count | 562

Warnings | Spicy language, allusions to oral sex and fucking, but nothing explicit (I know, who else is shocked, I know I am)

This is part of my 500 followers celebration. If you want to request a 500 word Drabble, check out this post and head into my ask box. The more the merrier. And you can read the previous drabbles here.

Main Masterlist

She had a smart mouth. Javi assumes that’s probably why he likes her so much. On her first day at the admin desk, Javi had ambled down after hearing about the ‘pretty new administrator’ – those had been Steve’s words and their types were very different, but he couldn’t resist a look, and damn Steve had been right. He’d been smitten almost immediately. He wasn’t used to being told no, so when you’d repeatedly turned down his advances, he couldn’t lie, he was frustrated.

“I like your nails, querida, the colour suits your eyes.”

“I think I heard flavour of the week last week telling you hers would look good around your cock,” You replied, dry tone, “You’ll not get that from me, so hurry up and tell me what you want.”

That had been the first time you’d left him speechless; you were always so blunt with him. He was used to women playing coy, making him chase but giving in anyway. This was different. You were different.

“Can I buy you a drink, hermosa?” Friday night, embassy staff bar night.

“I can buy my own and not feel obligated to fuck you, so I’m okay thank you, Agent Peña,” You were going to turn away from him, “But maybe if you ask Intern Number 4 over there, you’ll have more luck, she’s been practically deep throating her straw whilst watching you.”

Intuitive too, he had to hand it to you, he hadn’t noticed the intern at all, more focused on the curve of your ass in the bar stool and the shirt that was unbuttoned down to the neckline of your vest underneath.

He was starting to lose the will to live. He’d never really wanted anyone so badly in his life, all because you never really gave into him. So, when he’s stuck with Murphy and you, grounded from field work as some sort of punishment, organizing the embassy archives, he knows this is his chance.

He curses Steve silently all day for taking your side, the both of them make comments all day – Steve starts with, “I think this is the only time I’ve been in a room full of women Peña hasn’t fucked.” Then a little while later, when he’s confused with the filing system, you’re rolling your eyes with a “They’re sorted alphabetically, Javier, how the hell did you pass basic and end up here?”

Steve dips out at five, if he’s not needed for fieldwork then he’s not staying in the filing room past hours – he leaves with a shot over his shoulder for the two of you to behave. Javier is looking at you as he says it and there’s a smirk across your face. Bingo.

“You don’t wanna behave, do you querida?”

He’s walked up behind you, catching you between his two arms that he has placed on either side of you, resting them on the desk. He stifles a groan as you press your ass back into him, “Depends what you had in mind, Peña?” You’d turned to face him, body impossibly close to his own.

He moves a hand and tilts your chin up to look at you properly, his lips just millimeters from your own. He wanted to press a kiss there so badly, but now was not the time.

“Shall we put that smart mouth of yours to better use?”

#pedro pascal #javier pena #narcos #javier pena Drabble #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena fan fiction #javier pena x you #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x f!reader #panda 500

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bullet-prooflove · 2 years ago

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Lullaby - Mike Duarte x Reader

Tagging: @nessamc @xmoonknightlyx @jayblackpanther @crazy4chickennuggets @annetje @mysoulisasunflower @littleone65 @thesandbeneathmytoes @storiesofsvu @kabloswrld @xoxabs88xox @katluke25 @mydarkestsecretlol @bbyxoo @evee87 @adesertdaydream @the-hinky-panda @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @kimm4710 @hearthockey

You looked so beautiful while you slept, Mike had missed your serene expression and the way your delicate frame fit so perfectly against his. He enjoyed having you back in his arms and feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his own as he smoothed your hair away from your face with his fingertips.

He couldn't explain the contentment he felt with you back home where you belonged. He wasn't used to feeling helpless. He was always in control, he was the dominant one, the risk taker and the strategist.

The truth was Mike wanted to send you away. He wanted you out in L.A with your friends, the ones he trusted. He knew Chris would take care of you. The ex S.W.A.T member was a force of nature and had a safe location, where she cared for women who needed to stay hidden.

You needed time away from all the bad things that had happened here. Hell, if Mike was completely honest with himself even L.A didn't feel far enough away from McGrath for his liking. The son of a bitch needed to be put down like the rabid dog he was. He would have suffered any torture the other man could have thrown at him if it would have saved you from the trauma that you had experienced.

Maybe it was time to pack the job in, head out to California together. He would do it for you if that was what you wanted. He could do something normal; he knew Deacon had a private security firm out there. He’d offered Mike work the last time the two of them had caught up. He thought about cashing in his pension and moving out there, sun, sea and beaches. He thought the two of you could be happy out there. He would do anything to see that radiant smile light up your features once more, even if it meant selling his soul to the devil.

You mumbled in your sleep, it was grumpy and angry sounding. Your eyebrows already forming an irate frown as you shook your head and growled. You’d been having bad dreams; he’d soothed you through them. The closer the trial got the worse it became. You woke up in cold sweats, with ragged breathing and whimpers that cut him right down to his core. His arm wrapped around your waist, tucking the covers around your form as he drew you even closer into the shelter of his arms.

He hummed into your hair, a lullaby his mother used to sing when she was trying to get Mike’s younger brother off to sleep. It seemed to calm you, the same way it had Hernando once upon a time.

“I got you mi vida” He whispered as you snuggled in closer, your fingers tangling in his t-shirt as he held you close. “You’re safe here with me.”

Love Mike Duarte? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#mike duarte #captain mike duarte #mike duarte x reader #mike duarte x you #maurice compte

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trulybetty · 1 year ago

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oct' 02 x apple scent

Prompt: apple scent Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Bryony Morgan (OFC) Word Count: 908 Warnings: un-beta'd is the name of the game, mentions of food, implications of alcohol, Dieter's shameless flirting, hints at spice, but it goes no spicier than cinnamon for our favourite trash panda. this is fluff Summary: set who knows when in the Chiffon universe, slice of domesticity for one of my favourite character pairings

x. masterlist

The day had been long, too long.

The kind that sucked every ounce of energy out of you and still demanded more

The meetings were relentless, back to back, and some simultaneously both in person and over Zoom. By the time Bryony had closed the door to her office and waved good-bye to Tim at security she was well and truly drained.

The only thought that kept her going was the sanctuary of her sofa and the blissful idea that she could go completely off the grid until ten the next morning.

As she pushed open the heavy front door of home, her senses were instantly flooded with the comforting aroma of apples and cinnamon. Already halfway out of her jacket and kicking off her heels before the door had closed behind her, she called out into the house, “Dieter!” Her belongings dropped unceremoniously in the hallway as she headed toward the source of the scent.

In the kitchen, Dieter was busily putting the finishing touches on a home-cooked dinner, an apron wrapped around his waist.

The sight was enough to bloom the first genuine smile she’d had since she had left him reluctantly in bed that morning with his promise of an evening of just the two of them. But Bryony’s overrun day had put a shot to that, she was home three hours later than she was supposed to. It was just as dark out as it was when she’d left that morning.

“It really is infuriating how good you are at this stuff.” Bryony commented, wrapping her arms around him from behind.

“Jealous Daff?” Dieter quipped, turning to catch her in an embrace.

She raised an eyebrow. “No,” she grumbled but melted into the warmth of his arms, feeling the tension of the day drain away. “It’s like I have my own little Stepford wife.”

Dieter chuckled, “Ah, but unlike them, I come with added benefits.”

As she surveyed the kitchen, she had to admit: Domesticity looked good on him. She had wondered how he would fare taking a hiatus from acting, but he seemed to be thriving. She playfully reached for a piece of the pie's crust, only to be swatted away.

“Ah-ah,” Dieter swatted her hand away, winking, “good things come to those who wait.”

“Okay, fine,” she held up her hands in defeat, “I’ll wait.”

Dieter smirked and handed her a generously filled glass. The bubbles fizzed around the lime garnish and ice. She didn't need to taste it to know what it was. “Thank you, I appreciate it,” she said, taking a sip.

Throwing the dishcloth he'd been holding over his shoulder, Dieter's broad shoulders became even more pronounced under the fabric of his thin flannel shirt. “I don’t need to ask to know you likely forgot lunch, refused to ask your assistant to grab something and drank nothing but coffee all day.”

As if on cue Bryony’s stomach grumbled loudly.

“You know me too well,” Bryony remarked, holding the glass to her chest.

Dieter laughed, his eyes narrowing playfully, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I can read you like a book,” he paused for theatrics as he moved in closer to Bryony, “a very steamy, page-turning book.” he finished with a wink.

She rolled her eyes, not immune to the charm but too tired to engage fully. “Flatterer.”

“It's one of my many skills,” he winked. “Along with cooking, making women swoon, and being irresistible even in an apron. Does any of that ring a bell?”

“Mostly the apron,” she retorted with a cheeky smile, taking another sip of her drink. “It really does add a certain je ne sais quoi to the whole Bravo experience.”

Dieter leaned in, his voice dropping to a sensual murmur. “Oh, I've got plenty more experiences to offer, just say the word.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “I'm too tired for experiences right now, and you know it.”

“Ah, so it'll have to be Dieter: The Home Edition tonight,” he grinned, planting a quick but tender kiss on her lips. “Go change, and let's have dinner.”

She hesitated, her eyes searching his for a moment. “I'm sorry for coming home late, I wanted to be here.”

His expression softened, his flirtatious air replaced by genuine warmth. “It's okay, Daff. I know how much your work means to you. Besides, this gives me an excuse to indulge you a bit.”

She smiled, genuinely touched. “I'll be right back.”

Despite the fatigue that was soaked into her bones Bryony headed up the stairs to their bedroom to change. Happy to shirk the confines of the semi-formal attire the day had called for and released from the restrictions of underwires, she changed into more comfortable clothes and headed back downstairs. As she re-entered the kitchen, Dieter was just placing the final dish on the dining table.

“Ready to eat?” he asked, the suggestive glint in his eye did not go amiss.

“Starving,” she said, taking her seat and reaching for her drink Dieter had brought to the table, “for food, mostly.”

“Mostly,” he winked as he sat across from her. “Well, the night is young, my love. Who knows what other appetites we might satiate.”

She couldn't help but laugh. “You're incorrigible.”

He raised his glass for a toast. “And you wouldn't have me any other way.”

“True,” she agreed despite shaking her head playfully, clinking her glass against his. “Very, very true.”

#october x 500 #autumnal offerings #dieter x bryony #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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brooklynislandgirl · 11 months ago

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Advent Day XV ~ In the Lane, Snow is Glistening @lalamoon

Beth had promised Layla that they would do American Christmas with all the bells-and-whistles and in the same way she first experienced it, too. It helps that the morning had dawned cold and grey and wrapped in a blanket of thick fog that obscured city streets, the various harbours, and even most of the Verrazzano bridge. Beth wakes up early enough that she has the kitchen to herself. Though she's never made anything edible, breakfast isn't her purpose for being there. She takes down a specific copper tea pot inscribed with runes and fills it part way with water. She sets it on the stove and takes down a small broom made of hazel stave and birch branches for bristles. It radiates the same sweetness of cinnamon as her breath. She dances with it, not actually sweeping, as the kettle warms and only stops when it begins to whistle. A few moments later, the faint rain outside becomes a light snow fall that will continue until the day after Christmas. 'Tis the season, after all, for a little coincidental storm. By the time Layla makes her appearance ~a little groggy and with curls springing everywhere, which if Beth was honest about it, she's completely envious about it~ Beth is pushing a cup of coffee in her hand and smiling impishly. "So here da kine. We gonna start wi' coffee or chai an' pastries a' my hanai-sistah's shop. You gonna love her, really. We been bes' good friends since her freshman year a' Columbia. Mos' of her stuff is Kosher or Halal an' what no is…make you grateful for a small sin," Beth winks as if that is all the evidence needed. "Den I figure we can go shoppin' at Winter Village an' aftah, ice skating! Or we could skate first den shopping, so we don' leave our stuff unattended. Lunch…den more shoppin' at Union Square Holiday Market. We gonna wanna find dat guy dat sell roasted ches'nuts. Gonna wanna narrow down which of da half-dozen soup kitchens we volunteer at, deliver coats an' presents for da women's shelter in da kitchen, an' we're helpin out Sean Casey an' Social Tees animal rescues. Dey doin' free adoption an' spay-neuter program for da holidays. But really we can do dese t'ings in any order ja'like." She pauses as she reviews her mental list, trying to think if she forgot anything. "Oh, den dere's da big sleep. We do a giant cuddle puddle in da livin' room…right dere…" she points to the eight foot tree by the floor to ceiling windows. Some time during the night Andy had moved most of the furniture to accommodate the variety of air-mattresses, pillows, sleeping bags and blankets that they would all be using. She doesn't remember how or when the tradition started, only that it's been a feature all of her life and not one they were about to put the breaks on. "So if you nevah have pyjamas or some kine to wear, we should get you some or you can borrow a pair of sweats from Jay an' a tee-shirt from Panda…I mean…Andy." Beth pauses to take a breath again. "I t'ink dat's it, but really is up to you, ya know. Wanna make dis da bes' good Chris'mas you can have here."

#lalamoon #Echo of Fire|Layla el Faouly #Sea and Eclipse|Layla and Beth #Lunar Paraphrase|Moon Knight au #Brooklyn Stories|New York

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dumdumsun · 1 year ago

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Wax and Wane

A/N: I'm realizing that since I'm in a show rn and I'm currently not doing well in my classes, the season 4 installment will take a bit for me to write. My bad, y'all. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Warnings: guns, sedation, violence and kidnapping

Word Count: 5992

—————————————

Chapter Six: House of the Holloways

The Starcourt Mall was still bustling with activity when Dustin finally spotted something in his binoculars. It felt like hours since he and Steve had squatted behind the plant just in front of Imperial Panda, and he was sure his legs would go numb soon. “Target acquired.” He announced.

“Where?”

“Ten o’clock. Sam Goody’s.”

“Give me that.” Steve took the binoculars to enhance his vision. He silently cursed at the sight of a very suspicious individual moving quickly through the mall. He had long, blond hair, his hard stare concealed by black shades that matched the rest of his attire. And to top it all off, he walked with a blue duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Upon this realization, Steve lowered the binoculars to meet Dustin’s stare, the two speaking in unison,

“Evil Russian.”

They needed no more encouragement before they were up on aching and wobbly legs, charging after the blond man. They stomped up the escalators to get to the next floor the man was already on, and when they reached the floor, they began to get separated from him by the bodies of Hawkins. Steve quickened his pace, which worried Dustin.

“Slow down.”

“We’re losin’ him.” Steve justified.

“You’re getting too close.”

Due to his lack of awareness, Steve harshly bumped into a passerby, the guy turning with a look of offense. “Watch it, dickwad!” He scolded.

The alleged Russian stopped in his tracks at the voice and turned his head. In fear of being discovered, Steve quickly turned to the window of a nearby store and pretended to browse while Dustin ducked to the side to pick up a phone on the wall.

“Hello,” He spoke in a monotone voice to appear to be in a conversation. “Yes. I am fine. How are you?”

Convinced, the man turned back around and continued on his way. Steve patted Dustin on the arm for him to follow. Once they reached the directory of the mall, they ducked behind it and peeked their heads out to watch their target. The blond man strode into a room full of women in tights and workout wear. The sign read Jazzercise.

“Alright, everyone, listen up!”

He set the duffel bag down and unzipped it.

“I just have one question for you.”

He removed his shades.

“Who…”

He reached into his bag.

“...is ready to sweat?”

And pulled out a boombox. The women all cheered as pop music began playing, their instructor moving to stand before them, unzipping his black tracksuit to reveal a purple tank top. “Okay! Let’s start it nice and easy now.”

Dustin and Steve watched in disgust as the women copied the movements of their instructor, circling their hips, grinding them, thrusting them, just as he demonstrated. They couldn’t believe it.

Meanwhile at Scoops Ahoy, Robin sat behind the counter, in front of the glass window, notepad in one hand and a soda in the other. “The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west,” She mumbled the code already translated before continuing with her new discovery. “A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly… ‘Tread lightly’?”

Just as she began flipping through the translation book again, a knocking came from the other side of the window. She set the book down and removed her headphones before sliding the window open, hopping through it and landing in the breakroom. When she opened the backdoor, a delivery man stood there.

“Delivery for you.”

“Thank you.” She sighed out and took the box from him, setting it to the side before signing the clipboard he held out. Her eyes traveled up to his uniform shirt.

Lynx Transportation.

“Have a nice day.”

His voice broke her out of thought. “Yeah, you, too.” But as soon as he was walking down the hall, she rushed out, eyeing the logo of a silver silhouette of a wild cat on the back of his uniform. “Silver cat… Silver cat.”

By the time Steve and Dustin returned to the parlor, Robin was already rushing out of the breakroom. “Robin, you’re not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian.”

“You did, too.”

“No, I did not.”

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I did not!”

They hadn’t realized she had brushed past them until she was gone. She sped into the middle of the mall and jumped onto one of the benches, her eyes scanning every single store in her radius.

“‘A trip to China sounds nice’... A trip to China sounds nice… A trip to China sounds nice… A trip to China sounds nice.”

Her eyes found Imperial Panda.

“A trip to China sounds nice.”

She glanced down at her notes. “‘If you tread lightly’.”

She went back to scanning.

“If you tread… If you tread…”

Kaufman Shoes.

“If you tread lightly.” She returned to her notes one more time before looking back up. “‘When- When blue and yellow meet in the west’... When blue…”

The large clock above her caught her eyes.

“...meets yellow…”

Its blue hour hand pointed between two and three, its yellow minute hand between twenty and twenty-five.

“...in the west.”

“Robin.”

She looked down to find Steve and Dustin approaching her. “What are you doing?”

A smile played on her lips. “I cracked it.”

“Cracked what?”

She jumped down with wide eyes and a growing smile. “I cracked the code.”

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

Work at The Hawkins Post had been nothing short of humiliating for Nancy (as per usual) since the harsh shutdown of her story on diseased rats given to her from Tom. There was nothing more for her to do other than continue her duties of delivering coffee and sandwiches to the horrible men she worked for. She had just emptied the used coffee filter into the trash and replaced it with a new one, reaching up to the cabinet that held the coffee beans.

Her heart nearly burst out of her chest upon a rat flying towards her face as soon as she opened the door. She jumped back with a loud gasp, her hand clutching the chest of her dress to hopefully return her heart to its rightful place. Once she was able to breathe at an acceptable pace once again, she took a moment to realize the situation.

It was a rubber rat, its long tail taped to the inside of the cabinet door. Before she could even begin to think who would do such a thing to her, a very familiar guffaw sounded from behind her.

“Oh-ho-ho! Oh! There it is!”

Turning around, she was met with Bruce and a few of her other superiors laughing at what they just witnessed.

“Careful! It might have rabies!”

He playfully chittered, mimicking the rat he truly was. Suppressing any words or actions that could cost Nancy her job, she turned around and ripped the rat off of the door.

“Better get that thing outta here,” Bruce continued. “You don’t want it eatin’ the tires off your car.”

Nancy hadn’t even heard him, for this very prank sparked an idea. Once again, without any regard for the warning sign, she slammed open the door to the darkroom. Jonathan huffed and dropped the tool in his hand. “Come on!” He groaned. His reflects were quick to catch the rubber rat when Nancy threw it to him. “What- What is this?”

“Proof.”

“Proof?”

“They said they wanted proof, right? So, let’s give it to ‘em.”

“A rubber rat?”

“No, the real rat. Driscoll’s rat.” At his unimpressed look, she sighed. “You said it yourself, it looked sick. We can take it to an animal control center, they can run some blood tests on it, figure out what’s wrong with it-”

“Whoa- Wh- Who- Whoa, Nancy, slow down.” He shook his head with wide eyes, effectively silencing her. “Tom didn’t ask for proof. He asked us to drop the story.”

She scoffed. “That’s because he didn’t believe us.”

He gave her a look. “Nancy.”

And she gave it right back to him. “I’m right.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“The point is you should’ve thought about that before you talked to them. Alright? They’re assholes, okay? I get it. But it’s just a stupid story.”

Nancy blinked hard and crossed her arms at his words. “Oh, it’s stupid?”

“It’s stupid to get fired over.”

“No one’s going to fire us.”

Jonathan breathed deeply as he turned to lean against his table. Slightly irritated at his stubbornness, Nancy sighed and stepped closer to him. “Look, if you don’t want to go, that’s fine. Just… give me the keys.”

He looked up to her awaiting palm and relented. Straightening, he stared into her eyes with a smile curling at the edge of his lips. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

She quirked her brow with a small smirk, the look stretching into a smile when he snatched his keys from where he dangled them above her palm, pocketing them and beginning out of the room.

“Come on.”

The showers outside had angered themselves into a storm, thunder clapping above the town as the rain poured harder and the gloomy day darkened into a stormy night. Two raincoat-clad figures rode their bikes up to the Byers residence, dropping their modes of transportation into the yard and hurrying onto the porch. They pounded on the door and waited only a few seconds.

“Will!” Mike called above the storm. “Will, I’m sorry, man, alright? I was being a total asshole! Please, can you just come outside and we’ll talk?”

Lucas walked from his friend’s side and peered into the window. “Hey, Will!” He called as Mike continued to pound on the door. “Come on, man! We’re sorry! Will!”

Unbeknownst them, the Byers boy wasn’t in the house. He sat alone in his hideout behind the house. Castle Byers hardly gave much protection from the rain, but that was the least of his worries. Will, soaked from the rain, flipped through old comics he hadn’t touched in at least a month. He always came to Castle Byers to get away, to escape, to clear his mind, but it was proving to be useless. Every single moment of silence was occupied by Mike’s words.

“It’s not my fault (Y/N) got tired of you!”

That couldn’t have been true. Had Doc truly had enough of him? In all honesty, he wasn’t trying to push her away. If anything, he was trying to give her space. At least, that was what he kept telling himself. He didn’t want this complication to set them apart further than it already had. He just wished his heart would allow him to be fully honest with her.

Thunder rumbled above as he let his eyes wander about his sanctuary, his gaze falling onto his D&D manual. His heart cracked as he remembered the last time he had truly felt childish joy.

“Something is coming. Something hungry for blood,” Mike had whispered, eyes trailing across his three friends who sat around his square table.

“What is it?” Will had impatiently asked across from Mike.

“What if it’s the Demogorgon?” Dustin had raised his brows at his friends. Will had sighed out and slumped against his chair in distress. “Oh, Jesus, we’re so screwed if it’s the Demogorgon.”

Lucas, across from Dustin, had widened his eyes and spoke with gestured hands, “It’s not the Demogorgon.”

Will blinked rapidly as he shifted in his spot, looking for his skillfully-drawn picture of Will the Wise. He remembered one of the last times that character of his had seen the light of day.

“Fireball the son of a bitch.” Dustin had smirked at him.

Looking to Doc for confirmation, she had shrugged and nudged him. “Hey, if they say to fireball him, fireball him.” She chuckled. Bashful, Will had picked up the dice and shook them in his hands before letting them fall onto the table. Leaning forward, they had all counted the numbers before-

“Fourteen!” They all exclaimed as Mike continued his narration.

“Direct hit. Will the Wise’s fireball hits the thessalhydra. It makes a painful-” He let out a short screech before falling to his knees on the floor. “-and then… it crumbles to the ground. It’s clawed hand reaches for you one last time and… and… and… and…” He had pretended to pass out, the four others jumping from their seats and cheering, moving from the table to dance around.

Just beside Will the Wise was a picture of Doc Destructo, a gleam in her sketched-out eye as she smirked right at him.

“Gator Bait, this is Rug Bug calling in.” Will had spoken over the walkie.

“This is Gator Bait.” Doc had croaked in response.

“Are you okay?”

“No. Are you?”

“No…”

“Well, we can be not okay together.”

He missed when they would come to each other for everything. It made much more sense than bottling everything up and then getting into an argument and then taking a break. This wasn’t like them, not at all. He tried to save himself the pain by looking away from the picture, but his heart crumbled even more when his eyes fell upon a photo of the Party on Halloween, the five of them grinning at the camera. It was one of the last times the Party felt normal, when they were all happy.

“Who ya gonna call?”

“Ghostbusters!”

His eyes welled up with tears as his face scrunched up. “Stupid…” He angrily whispered. “So stupid.”

In an angered frenzy, the photo was ripped in half. Next came Will the Wise, then Doc Destructo, then another illustration of every member of their campaigns. Will heaved sobs of heartbreak, of anger, of confusion as he grabbed a nearby baseball bat and charged out of the hideout.

“Do you remember the day Dad left?” Jonathan had softly asked, knelt before Will. “We stayed up all night building Castle Byers…”

Will stared up at his second home, rain pelting down onto him.

“...just the way you drew it. And it took so long because you were so bad at hammering,” He had chuckled. “You’d miss the nail every time.”

He raised the bat, fingers clutching it tighter.

“And then it started raining, but we stayed out there, anyway. We were both sick for, like, a week after that. But we just had to finish it, didn’t we?”

Letting out a yell, Will slammed the bat onto Castle Byers over, and over, and over, and over. Each hit was for each person who had changed.

One for Max, who had completely changed their dynamic as a Party. One for Lucas, who became less interested in what really mattered the more time he spent with her. One for Dustin, who had given up on the Party just as fast as they had given up on him. One for Eleven, who was the start of this mess. One for Doc, who completely went back on her word that she would always be there for him. And one for Mike, who made him realize that maybe none of this mattered in the first place.

To finish the destruction, he ripped off the Castle Byers sign and threw it to the side, slumping to the ground and sobbing heavily.

“We just had to.”

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

Nancy and Jonathan charged through the rain and bounded up the stairs of the Driscoll residence’s porch. Nancy peered in through the front window and knocked on the door. “Mrs Driscoll?” She called out, knocking once again. Jonathan glanced over his shoulder and back to Nancy.

“Oh, she must not be home.”

She turned to him with an incredulous look. “She’s an eighty-year-old woman and it’s pouring. Where else would she be?” With no answer, her hand immediately went to the doorknob and turned it.

“Whoa, what are you doing?”

“Maybe she fell. Or something.”

“Nancy-”

Jonathan sighed as his girlfriend pushed the door open, stepping into the house slowly. “Mrs Driscoll?”

“Seriously?”

“Mrs Driscoll?”

With no other choice, Jonathan followed her inside, finding the courtesy to at least close the door behind him. The two walked the house cautiously, the air unsurprisingly silent for an elderly woman’s home. Still, it didn’t sit right with Nancy.

“It’s Nancy.” She called out. “From The Hawkins Post.”

Thunder clapped as they moved through the kitchen, finding nothing out of the ordinary. That was, until they came upon the open basement door. The hinges groaned as Nancy opened the door wider, hesitating at the top of the stairs. “Mrs Driscoll?” She called down.

The two descended the stairs, all of Jonathan’s complaints dying on his tongue the stronger his unease settled into his stomach. He watched Nancy flip on the basement light, their eyes carefully scanning the area. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, both their gazes caught four bags of fertilizer torn open. They quickly made their way over to them and stared down at the fertilizer splayed across the ground. They were only able to share a look for just a second before a piercing squeal sounded from the other side of the basement, nearly startling them out of their skin.

Once the squeal was followed by monstrous chittering and snarling, Nancy reached over to the table beside her and grabbed a hammer the exact same time Jonathan grabbed a mallet. Jonathan led them cautiously to where the noises got louder. He could’ve sworn there was the sound of teeth tearing and chomping onto something, and his stomach sunk further at the possibility of finding something truly scarring.

The two of them rounded the corner, slowly lowering their weapons. There, Mrs Driscoll stood hunched over a table, stuffing her face with fertilizer.

“Mrs Driscoll…?”

Lighting illuminated the woman when she turned to the two, eyes wide and face stained brown. She straightened and opened her mouth wide, an otherworldly screech sounding above the thunderclap that spoke in unison with her.

The time was nearing eight-forty-five when Dustin, Steve and Robin found themselves on the roof of Starcourt mall, squinting through the rain to peer at the men guarding the back entrance of the mall.

“Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes.” Robin spoke over the rain.

Dustin did as he was told, binoculars at his eyes. It wasn’t very long when he noticed a man in a yellow raincoat, casually whistling as he wheeled several Imperial Panda boxes between the two guards. “They’re with the whistling guy, ten o’clock.”

Steve tried his best to get a better look at the scene as he wiped rain from his eyes. “What do you think’s in there?”

“Guns, bombs?”

“Chemical weapons?” Robin added.

“Whatever it is,” Dustin turned his enhanced vision to the guards carrying guns at their front. “they’re armed to the teeth.”

Thunder boomed as Steve wiped more rain out of his eyes. “Great… That’s great.”

One of the guards scanned a card that gave the delivery man access to the inside of the mall. Robin perked up at this. “Hey, what’s in there?”

“It’s just more boxes.” Dustin informed.

“Let me check it out.” Steve reached over for the binoculars. Immediately, Dustin wrestled for them back.

“No, I’m still looking.”

“Lemme see it.”

“Hang on!”

When Steve lost hold of the binoculars, the force Dustin was using pulled them back harsher than he intended, a loud thud sounding when he smacked them against the metal of the roof. The three ducked for cover the second the guards straightened to attention. The two inched further away from the door in search of the source of the thud, but they found none.

Behind the safety of the roof, the three panted as they tried to catch their breath, their hearts beating out of their chests. Steve blinked rapidly against the rain as he noticed his suddenly warm hand. His eyes flitted to his side to find his hand clutched in Robin’s, fingers interlocked.

They made brief eye contact before they freed their hands, gazes darting anywhere else. And with that, the three had disappeared from the roof before the approaching guard could catch them. Soaked with the rain, the three hurried down the back hallways of the mall, Robin flanked by Steve and Dustin.

“Well, I think we found your Russians.”

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

In the showered darkness, two beams peeked through the rainfall, either belonging to the bikes of Max and Doc, El riding on the back of the former’s as the latter pedaled harder to their destination. Max had desperately been trying to keep up with her, envying her speed due to her years of roller skating. When Doc finally came to a stop in front of a red-doored house, Max braked her bike beside hers.

“Is this it?” Max asked. Doc motioned to the address on the mailbox in front of them.

“1438. Right, El?” Doc turned to her sister, who nodded in response. “And the red door. This is it.”

Bikes left to the ground, the three hurried under the pelting rain and the roaring thunder onto the porch. Doc reached up to knock as she noticed the concentrated look El was giving the door. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t-”

A lock sounded before the door was pushed open by Eleven. Doc sighed and walked in first, carefully flicking her yellow hood off her head. She heard the front door close and the footsteps of her friends behind her as she came to a stop in the hallway. El and Max froze at the family portrait on the wall that stared back at them.

Heather. She grinned beautifully, her hand and head resting on the shoulder of Tom. Behind him, his wife grinned with her hands on his shoulders. And on Tom’s other side grinned Brenda, her arms looped with one of his. This house…

It was the house of the Holloways.

“Told you,” Doc whispered as she began down the hall. “I knew whose house this was.”

The two followed their friend down the hall at the sound of cheerful laughter. The hall eventually ended in the dining room, where an unexpected sight greeted them. Tom, his wife and his youngest all sat at the dining table. But with them, across from Brenda, sat Billy, grinning charmingly as she and her mother chuckled at something he had said. However, all laughter ceased when the four noticed their guests.

“Max.” Billy greeted.

“(Y/N)!” Brenda beamed. “Hey, I didn’t know you’d be here. Did- Did we talk on the phone?”

Doc rapidly blinked as she raised her brows. “Oh, no, we didn’t. I, uh…”

“We didn’t mean to… barge in.” Max took over. “We tried to knock, but… maybe you didn’t hear us over the storm.”

Tom shook his head. “I’m sorry, who is this dripping all over my living room right now?”

Billy let out a chuckle and set down his utensils. “I’m sorry. Janet, Tom, Brenda, this… is my sister, Maxine.”

Janet let out a noise of understanding as Billy rose from his seat to approach the girls. Max was completely put off by his behavior, especially his declaration of them being siblings followed by the name she did not prefer.

“What on earth are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

Max raised her brows at him, at his gentle tone of voice. “We just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Okay?” He furrowed his brows. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“Where is she?” El demanded.

The two locked eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Billy monotonously spoke. “Where is who?”

A new voice entered the room, Heather carrying a tray of cookies in her oven-mitted hands. “Well, they’re a little burnt, I’m sorry-” She froze at the sight of the girls.

“Heather!” Billy motioned to her. “This is my sister, Maxine. And this…”

Doc swallowed when Billy’s eyes zeroed in on her.

“This is Maxine’s best friend, (Y/N).”

She shuddered, unpleased with her name on his tongue. “She already knows who I am. They all do.”

Billy faltered. “Of course… And,” His gaze returned to El. “I’m sorry, I did not quite catch your name.”

She blinked her gaze back to him. “El.”

Thunder rumbled.

“El.” His voice deepened. “Now, what is it you were saying, El? You were looking for somebody?”

She turned her head to Heather, who innocently looked back at her. “I- I saw… I saw you-”

“Your manager,” Max recovered. “At the pool.”

“Y-Yeah,” Doc chimed in. “We were worried because he said you didn’t come in today. And I know that’s not like you, so… I suggested we come here to check on you. I-I tried calling beforehand…”

Billy tilted his head at her, Doc utterly disturbed at the way his eyes darkened when he looked at her. “Heather wasn’t feeling so hot today, so we thought we’d take the day off to nurse her back to health. But you’re feeling just fine right now, aren’t you, Heather?”

Heather immediately responded, “I’m feeling so much better.”

At that, Billy grinned pointedly at El and Doc, the two staring at him with wide eyes.

“Do you girls want a cookie?” Heather held the tray out. “They’re fresh out of the oven.”

Doc cleared her throat and tore her eyes away from Billy. “No… No, thank you. We should really get going. Sorry again, Mr and Mrs Holloway, for coming here unannounced.”

“Oh,” Janet perked up. “Are you girls sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?”

“It’s fine,” Max forced a smile. “Thank you, but we should really get going.” She began tugging on El’s sleeve, trying to uproot the girl from her spot and out of the room. Doc warmly smiled at her friend, who watched the three in confusion.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll call you tomorrow, Brenda.”

“Okay,” She nodded. “And you know I’d hug you, hun, but you’re soaking wet.”

“Y-Yeah,” She chuckled, stiffening when she felt Billy place a hand on her back, guiding her out of the dining room with more force than he was letting on. “Goodnight!”

As soon as they reached the door, Doc ripped herself away from Billy, staring daggers into his eyes. Any trace of warmth or kindness had completely seeped out of his face, the young man standing rigid before her. Doc visibly shivered, whether it was from the drying rain on her skin or Billy’s piercing gaze, she wasn’t sure.

She let out a breath before hurriedly joining her friends outside. Doc and Max silently picked up their bikes and walked to the street with El following. Little did they know, behind the closed door and front window, stood Billy. His eyes locked on El, pupils dilated as he remembered something he couldn’t have possibly known.

With shuddering breaths, El raised her hand up to the barrier that allowed evil to bleed into Hawkins. Her power reached out for contact until it hit the gate, emitting a glow and blowing back some of the particles.

He knew it. Right from the moment he saw her.

From the other side, the shadow that Doc had just freed from Will broke through, heading straight for her. But she still held her hand up, taking it head-on.

She tried to shut it out.

Eleven was still pushing the Mind Flayer back, her screams never ceasing until it was back on the other side and the crack in the wall was completely sealed, leaving them in darkness.

She tried to shut him out. But she hadn’t worked alone. He looked to Doc, who hopped on her bike and followed Max and El down the street.

Doc’s eye twitched as she lifted both her hands up to the monster. She touched her knuckles together with her hands in a clawing position. With a grunt, she began pulling her hands apart.

She was never forgotten.

Doc stepped closer and closer to the storm as she continued to rip it in half. The Mind Flayer screeched as she dusted its limb, moving up to the rest of its body. A long scream burned her lungs as she ran forward, forcing her arms wide when her hands couldn’t go any further.

She was supposed to protect him.

The monster tried to advance, but it was being torn apart. Doc showed no signs of stopping, tears cascading down her face as she clawed its body in half, the ashes blowing away in a wind she created.

She was supposed to protect all of them.

“Let me live! You piece of shit! Let! Me! Live!”

But she was defensive.

“You life stealer!!! Let me fucking live!!! I wanna live!!! Do you hear me?! I! WANT! TO! LIVE!!!”

She was selfish.

With a voice-shattering cry, Doc clenched her hands into fists and swiped them down through the air. The monster dusted into millions of ashes. The black ashes scattered all around her like snowflakes in the winter.

And she pushed him away.

Or, at least, she tried to.

Meanwhile, before the remains of Castle Byers, Will flinched at the prickling of goosebumps at the back of his neck. He straightened in his spot and brushed his fingers over the bumps. Immediately, he was on his feet, eyes darting from place to place to find who was there, what was there. The rain forgotten, the heartbreak forgotten, his friends forgotten. Something was here.

“Will!”

He didn’t even turn when he heard Mike and Lucas’s footsteps fall behind him.

“What happened?” Mike asked. “Are you okay?”

Will didn’t respond to his question. Instead, he turned his body to them, gaze hard. He knew it. He knew it this whole time. He was just terrified to admit it.

“He’s back.”

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

At the Holloway home, Billy returned to the dining room, where Heather now sat beside her younger sister. She watched Billy round the table to his seat. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes.” He hummed. “Everything’s fine.”

Janet swallowed her wine. “Your sister really didn’t want to stay?”

“No, she’s just not… you know, really a people person.”

“Well, I just don’t like the idea of them out there in the storm like that. Besides, it isn’t like (Y/N) to refuse a seat at dinner, right, Brenda?”

Before Brenda could respond, her father spoke, “Oh, they’ll be fine.”

Janet smiled at her husband and then her daughter before reaching for her wine. She exclaimed when she accidentally knocked over the glass, wine spilling across the table. Brenda gasped when some of it spilled onto her skirt. At this, Tom shook his head.

“I told you to slow down on that wine, Janet.”

“Yes, dear.” She dabbed the wine with a rag before apologetically looking at her youngest. “I’m so sorry, Brenda, sweetheart.”

The young girl shook her head and shifted in her seat. “Oh, Mommy, don’t worry about it.”

Heather reached over for her mother’s hand. “Are you okay, Mommy?”

“Yes, I’m- I’m just…” Janet slowly blinked and shook her head. “...feeling a little light-headed is all.”

Tom hummed. “It’s all that wine. Brenda, why don’t you go upstairs and change?”

She nodded and carefully stood from her chair. “I’ll be right back.”

Billy watched intently as the youngest Holloway disappeared up the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Janet sighed out. “Um, if you’ll excuse me, I’m just gonna go upstairs and lie down for a bit.”

Heather stared ahead as Janet slowly stood from her seat and stumbled into the living room. She barely made it five steps before she collapsed to the ground. At the sound of a thud, Tom hurriedly got up from his seat. “Janet?” He called out as he entered the living room. “Janet? Janet?!”

Billy readied a rag and chloroform as Heather stood from her seat, firmly grabbing the wine bottle on her way.

“Janet! Janet!” Tom tried shaking his wife awake. “Call nine-one-one!”

He whipped around to see Heather.

“Call nine-one-”

He grunted when he was smacked across the face with the wine bottle. The room spun and his head ached horribly as he tried crawling away. Billy came up behind Heather, handing her the rag. She took it from him and approached her father, planting her knee into his back and pulling the back of his head up by his hair. Tom gasped out in pain.

“I’m really sorry about this, Daddy,” She calmly started. “But it’ll all be over soon. I promise.”

Tom’s screams were muffled when the rag went over his mouth and nose. It took less than a minute until he was passed out, body slumping against the floor. Thunder clapped as Heather stood to her feet, looking down at her work with cold, dead eyes.

Then her head snapped over to the staircase, where Brenda stood. The young girl gasped out, terrified that she’d been caught, before darting down the hall. Heather looked to Billy for confirmation before she was speeding up the stairs.

Brenda tried to silence her sobbing as she ran down the hallway to her bedroom. She knew something wasn’t right about her sister bringing Billy home. He was too polished, too perfect. He smiled too wide and stared too long. And Brenda was no idiot, she knew Billy was not like that at all. All night, she had been holding her breath, waiting for him to say the wrong thing, to do the wrong thing.

This is not what she had in mind.

Whatever kind of person he was, it scared her even more that he had been able to corrupt her sister. And now her parents were incapacitated in her living room.

“Brenda?”

She covered her mouth at the sound of Heather’s sickeningly sweet voice calling out to her. Without a peep, she enclosed herself into her closet, breathing erratic as she peered through the skinny slit of her door.

Heather burst into the bedroom, tearing through all her sister’s belongings in search of her. Brenda tried to think of a plan. Even if she were to get past her sister, there was still Billy to worry about. And even if she managed to get past him, what was she to do? It was night, it was pouring, her friends were long gone and no one would hear her scream.

Her breathing stuttered as she watched Heather whip her head over to the closet.

Brenda’s mouth fell open, but she quickly cupped her hand over it.

“Brenda?” Heather slowly stood, tilting her head at the closed door. “Come on, sis. I know you’re in there.”

Brenda silently placed her hand on the knob.

“Why don’t you come on out?”

She inhaled deeply.

“You and I can have a little chat-”

Brenda grunted as she slammed the door open, effectively smacking Heather in the face and sending her to the ground. She had half a mind to call out an apology to her sister, but instead she flew out of the bedroom.

Billy appeared around the corner, rag at the ready. Screaming, Brenda ducked down and rolled between his legs. She attempted to stand up again, but didn’t realize how close to the stairs she was. Her body tumbled down the staircase, her head smacking against the railing. When she blinked her eyes open, her heart sank at the sight of Billy and Heather staring down at her from the top of the staircase. She let out a short scream and ran down the rest of the stairs.

“Oh, my god!” She cried at the sight of her parents passed out on the floor. “Mommy! Daddy! Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Oh, my god!”

Two sets of footsteps quickened behind her, so she sprinted to the front door. “Help!!!” She screeched as she reached the door. “Somebody, help!!!”

Just as she ripped the door open, she felt fingers at the back of her shirt.

“No! (Y/N)! Help!!!”

A hand yanked her back as the door slammed shut.

“No!!!”

Her screaming was muffled by the rag, Brenda thrashing about until she felt her limbs slump and her world darken.

—————————————

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toongrrl-blog · 1 year ago

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Pink Power Rankings, Pt. 3

You’ve (hopefully for me) waited, now you have it. The next chapter of Pink Power Rankings! I had a good time doing Parts One and Two and have been wanting to do Part Three for some time and I needed to look for more pop culture sources involving the color pink. Here I look at moments in TV and Film featuring women and girls (and other feminine presenting folks) moments in the color pink and I analyze if this is a case of pink representing feminine power or vulnerability under a Patriarchal structure.

Spoilers Ahead

Pictured above are the many versions of the Pink Ranger from the Power Rangers series.

Mei Lee

We are gonna take a trip into Chinese Culture, early 2000s fashion, adolescence, and the push and pull between family traditions and honoring your own spirit. Buckle up.

First Red: Mei Mei lives in a multitude of cultures. First she is a Millennial who likes boy bands and soda pop who tries to be a straight A student and proper daughter to her (likely) Boomer elders, she is a Chinese Canadian girl who wakes up find herself as a giant fluffy red panda. Chinese Flag, Chinese Culture, Canadian flag, red pandas, anger, passion, menstruation: what do they have in common? The color red. In Chinese culture, red (along with the complementary yet opposite on the color spectrum, green) is a lucky color; it’s a festive color, the color of beauty, good fortune, vitality, and happiness. Mei is an adorable girl who has a bright future ahead of her and she is a energetic, go-getter who hardly lets things get her down. According to Ericksen Translations, Red in the Western World evokes excitement, love, danger, passion, and anger, Indian cultures consider red to be the color of purity, Latin America can pair red with white for religious connotations, and red is infamously used by totalitarian regimes. That last part is important because Mei Mei is butting heads with her green (another lucky color in Chinese culture, unless you are a man wearing a hat) and blue (the color of sadness and motherhood in Western culture) clad mother, who lacked the community of good friends with different perspectives (or any) and was so bound up in duty and guilt/intergenerational trauma to see that her daughter needs to join in the pursuits of her age group.

This even shows up in how Mei was dressed (and as a testament to the film, showcases the changing seasons in Toronto, coinciding with the themes regarding puberty): she starts the film wearing a red cardigan sweater, a flared skirt, leggings, sneakers, still a hip little girl but cardigans (along with collared shirts) evoke “Classic Fashion”, they evoke an image of British aristocratic women, 1950s housewives and secretaries, D.C. Office Ladies, they transcend time and are safe. TL;DR, they are “Good Girl” clothes, the kind of clothes that don’t make waves (sartorially nor with the status quo).

On the other hand, polo shirts (especially if they were layered), were the it shirt for the 2000s. After Clueless hit theaters in 1995, there was a resurgence in preppy styles, especially for young women, with palettes becoming brighter and brighter. And when we see Mei Mei at the end of the film: we find her in a light pink polo shirt with the latest in Y2K accessories (spot the hair clips, earrings, and choker), showing that she has embraced her own voice and panda and living openly. It’s a good thing her outlook is so bright, she is gonna be one of many Millennials likely affected by the 2008 Recession and the now current COVID-19 pandemic.

Power Ranking: A 10, 24/7, 365!

Monica Lewinsky

Here we will focus on dissecting the serialized interpretation of Monica Lewinsky (as played by exquisite Beanie Feldstein) rather than the real person I simp over; Monica, in real life and in the series based on events in her 20s, is an utterly femme-y woman but pink is not a power color within the series. We see her wear it in loungewear, chatting on the phone with her treacherous friend (the never can be too maligned) Linda Tripp (Sarah Paulson in one of her problematic roles) or in a sleepover scene or as a robe or in a romantic nightie and here, in a scene where she has a tumultuous argument with President Bill Clinton (Clive Owen looking a tad svelte) where they finally break up. One can surmise that Pink is the color of vulnerability for Monica, as it makes her small and easy to take advantage of by an older colleague and lover.

In short: it’s the color of both femininity and vulnerability and we see Linda and First Lady Hillary Clinton wear it themselves in subdued and pastel versions, nodding to their age. But onto Monica and how she could (or could not) fall into the same subued pastels as these women who are contemporaries of her own more youthful and glamorous mother (played by the uber-talented Mira Sorvino); pink for Monica symbolizes her femininity (which she was lampooned for as a bimbo and valley girl), her warmth (a quality that people are surprised to learn she has once meeting her), her beauty (her blessing and a curse, as she diets like crazy), her sexuality (despite the Sexual Revolution, society is still slut-shamey and hasn’t reformed enough for abuse of power to become a thing of the past), and her romantic nature and sadly due to Bill being the ultimate fuck-boy of the late-20th Century, is likely to become the embittered nag (Hillary) or hag (Linda) that is vilified in the media, or rather her ultimate fate as punching bag and sex object.

Monica was in soft pastels for her loungewear outfits but this sweater is a bold, saturated coral pink that matches her emotions. After screaming at secretary Betty Currie (the one and only Rae Dawn Chong), which bad move Monica, she gets Bill to lament how horrible she is (really the whole thing is his damn fault), projecting and using Betty’s history of being a Black woman under Jim Crow to manipulate Monica “a fucking 24 year old” and how he thought she was “a good girl” which earns him a hearty “fuck you!” from her and they decide to break off, her even turning down his pleas to resume after his term is over, but he resolves to help her get the job she wants and she quits the Pentagon for the greener pastures (or rather the lipstick) of Revlon where her intelligence and beauty savvy will be put to work.

Oh girly, you aren’t out of the woods. On a simp-y note: I want to note what costume designer Meredith Markworth-Pollack described Monica as an “innately a sexual woman, she’s flirtatious, she’s sensual, she’s curvy, she’s magnetic”...basically Monica has the same energy as Joan Holloway of Mad Men, another mistreated and sexualized woman who was a victim of her time and place and underestimated as a person and intellect due to her gender. But both women, as Tom and Lorenzo once said: “She took charge of her life and owned her mistakes” when comparing Joan to Liz Taylor (a vivacious dark-haired bombshell who was noted for her sensuality and mocked for her weight) and became producer. *chef’s kiss*

Power Ranking: 5.5 (like a phoenix she will rise out of the ashes).

Eleanor Wong

I love this look, it’s giving Grace Kelly meets Betty Draper Francis’s hidden Italian haute couture side. The chic updo, the jewelry, bejeweled bodice, cinched waistline, full pink tulle skirt, and the long gloves all scream “Mid Century Movie Glamour”. Eleanor showed up with her friend Devi to the Winter Dance stag to support friend Fabiola and her girlfriend Eve’s bid for Winter Dance Royalty. The girls also lament their love life, having broken up with boys before. But Luck be a Lady tonight, for these two ladies in fabulous formal wear. Devi gets to go with her older and popular boyfriend Paxton while Eleanor gets the attentions of Paxton’s dopey friend (they are so cute a couple) and gets to tell Ben, Devi’s entitled ex who always called Devi “David” and competed with her and called the girls the racist, misogynistic moniker of “Unfuckable Nerds” or UN (as Harriyanna Hook once said: “No boy alive who called me ugly was ever hotter than me”). Eleanor gets to tell a heartbroken Ben that Devi did care for him but she and Fabi told him he wasn’t good enough and gave a dismissive apology granted he ends up with Devi but Fab and Eleanor show that if wants her, he gonna have to prove himself.

Good. For. Her.

Power Ranking: 11.

Joyce Prigger

She emerges in a dusty rose suit and a floral blouse with grey-blue and orchid shades, youthful and ready to make an impression. Perhaps while wearing the colors of the gender binary and of power as defined by a patriarchal culture built on hierarchy. Sadly, this ambitious revolutionary has to kiss corporate ass and is failing. “The Matriarchy Awakens” is a clever tagline, but not a magazine title but there is a need for a matriarchy in an era when men can feel free to comment on other women’s bodies and their presentation with little to no consequence, where women are encouraged to diet but them exercising reproductive choice is taboo, where women are gaslighted into being silent about their concerns or wants. So young, Seven Sisters educated Joyce Prigger goes to a magazine convention to shop around her ideas for a feminist magazine that is sadly drier than the Southern California climate after being harassed by construction workers and to tone-deaf corporate heads who still like the idea of women building their whole lives and self-esteem around them.

So another man suggests he can sell her magazine with a crispier, tender title for his pornography publishing business: Minx. She is reluctant (she hasn’t made it to sex positive feminism yet) and walks off the convention getting harassed by the same construction worker and telling him to fuck off.

It’s a start, but articles about marital rape are gonna need pics of hot men in the buff.

Power Ranking: 6.

Kamala Nandiawanda

About four decades later and we meet another young woman who is coping with tone-deaf males in a profession she has ambition for, with the added weight of being a non-European woman in a White Supremacist Patriarchy. Kamala does what her aunt (and what nameless women in male-dominated circles) have done, keep her head down and smile while doing work that she is not getting credit for. And submit to their little games where they make her their video game damsel in distress and have her dress up according to their desires.

At some point she goes to her teenage cousin for help and her teenage cousin Devi (a known hothead) tells her she doesn’t has to take anyone’s shit and that men like her colleagues like seeing Asian Women as submissive and easy to abuse. Kamala eventually threatens her mentor with a lawsuit and going to feminist minded groups and reporting him.

Power Ranking: 5 (this was one of many straws that broke the camel’s back).

Julia Child

In the HBO Max unofficial sequel to Julie and Julia, a film that partially focused on the beginning of Julia Child’s career as the co-author of a popular cookbook that demystified French cooking to ordinary Americans, we meet Julia Child enjoying her new life in Massachusetts and on the heels of the popularity of Mastering the Art of French Cooking as she works on the 2nd addition. As a promotion on public television, she spontaneously fixes an omelette on air in her folksy and comedic style and is offered the opportunity to host her own cooking show. Not a TV owner (much less viewer), she is somewhat skeptical but becomes increasingly enthused and considers hosting her own show despite the skepticism of a few.

Power Ranking: 10, bon appetit!

Robin Buckley

Here is Robin Buckley: in frills she is not accustomed to nor her preference (foisted on her by the more miniscule Nancy Wheeler) with the highly femme outfits constricting her, especially around her neck. Nancy gives the awkward (honestly likely neurodivergent) Robin a script to follow as they try to glean information from a mental institution about one of their patients. Robin, when the interview goes nowhere, Robin goes off script and talks about how no one takes girls seriously and gets them access to their patient.

Power Ranking: 9.5

Suga Mama

“When I’m an old woman, I shall wear purple, with a red hat that doesn’t quite go...”, welp Suga Mama doesn’t need to dress so garish and formal to command attention as a woman over 50. Ever since The Proud Family premiered in 2001, Suga Mama was a hip granny and a force to be reckoned, no one not even her son, held her back.

Power Ranking: 10

Heather Chandler

ModernGurlz sussed out Heather so well, so I like to look at the film a bit from her point of view from when she was alive.

Picture it: Ohio 1989. You are the Queen Bee of your high school with three loyal underlings who do your bidding, even humiliating the school fat girl. You act like you are better than everyone else but you deep down feel insecure, nothing impresses you, the boys are either bores or objectify you, so you hit a college party hoping to find a mature option. Big Mistake, as he coerces you into oral sex while you are really wanting to go back to the party. You then stare at your reflection in self-hatred and then the next morning you wake up in a hangover and your friend, who you feel screwed you over for fighting back with her own college hook-up is with the school weirdo. You drink their hangover cure and it’s disgusting and what?

You have entered the afterlife and it’s so boring.

Power Ranking: 0

Louise Belcher

The #girlboss of the Belcher Clan, her late grandmother’s granddaughter, the one who solved a murder and saved everyone from an explosion involving flammable teddy bears in a slow-moving ride. Owner of her grandmother’s pink cap turned bunny hat.

Power Ranking: 10

Lisa Simpson

The long-running The Simpsons is a subversive take on classic family sitcom tropes and American Traditionalist “family values”, where the straight A and principled Lisa Simpson is often clad in a light pink and puff-sleeved dress with a classic party dress design. American Christian Tradition and Values writ in fabric: but Lisa subverts these values by staying true to her moral compass and often that means pissing off the social order.

In this case it’s clearing her brother Bart’s name after he was framed as a thief during collection, the truth is he fell for the sweet looking and pretty preacher’s daughter’s manipulations who tells him no one will believe him because Springfield is classist and elitist like many small-towns (there I said it). Lisa takes the pulpit to urge people to confess their sins, no takers from Jessica Lovejoy so Lisa points her out and the town sees that Jessica kept several weeks of collection money under her bed, a cry for help to her parents who care more about looking right than being good parents.

Power Ranking: 11

#pink #Lisa Simpson #women in media #louise belcher #monica lewinsky #pink ranger #mei lee #eleanor wong #joyce prigger #julia child #heather chandler #robin buckley #kamala nandiawanda #nalini vishwakumar #the proud family #costume analysis #fashion analysis #the simpsons #suga mama

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