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lightaflaem · 2 months ago

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𝐩𝐨𝐯: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭.

pairing: tattoo artist!suna x f!reader

genre: semi-angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive

word count: 5.1k

content warnings: profanities, suggestive themes, mentions of needles, sticks, poking, sharp objects, blood, mentions of abuse, scars, violence, trauma, addiction

summary: after countless attempts to convince your tattoo artist college friend, suna rintaro, to do your body art, you couldn’t understand why he keeps on rejecting you. not until he told and showed you the real reason why.

“Is this the chair where your clients sit to get their tattoos done?” you asked, pointing at the leather chair in front of you.

“Yeah, where else do you think I got it done?” Suna answered, not removing his eyes from the patterned tape he’s been wrapping on the grip on the gun.

“So, when are you going to do mine?” you hopped on the leather material, arm resting on the extended side as you clean your antecubital area with your other free hand. It’s obviously not set for your height as you tried making yourself comfortable on the depthness of the chair.

“Very funny, Y/N. Now get off that chair and help me set these up. There's small sized gloves under the cabinet beside that chair, wear those before touching anything.” he ordered, not giving a single fuck about your question. Rolling your eyes, you stood up and started searching for the gloves in the compartment.

“Why won’t you do my tatts?”

“‘Cause you're my friend.”

“Seriously, Rintaro? You have favoritism.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I don’t have favoritism and I don’t do tatts for my friends because I already know them. My brain becomes a mush when it comes to thinking of designs when I already know the person.”

Your jaw dropped at his answer. You don’t buy it. Seriously, what the fuck is he playing with? Irked, you intentionally wore the pair of latex with much more force, making it slap against your wrist hard enough to leave marks. You placed a sterile mat on the stainless surface of the table, aligning the vaseline-coated small cups horizontally and started loading it up with black and red inks.

“You’d make a great apprentice.” he commented as he watched you do the preparations the same way he does it before every session. Each and every step was done with fragility, just like how you retained his routine by watching him do the same thing for the past few years of being with him.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get a red tattoo,” you spoke as you continued filling the cups. “It’s sexy and I think I’ll look hot in it.”

“But you always look hot, with or without that red ink.” Suna said casually, making your heartbeat accelerate but you didn’t let it get into you because he probably said it to his clients most of the time.

“I know right. That’s why when my college friend became a tattoo artist, the force of getting it done doubled up. Specifically by him.” you know that you didn’t fail to emphasize how badly you wanted to get your body art done by him but maybe for him, he saw it as nothing but a mere compliment for his works.

Who would have thought that the quiet kid from one of your elective classes way back in college a few years ago who subsequently also became your close friend because of a mutual friend, the Miya twins, who were your classmates since you’re in elementary school, will become a famous tattoo artist specializing in line arts, minimalism, and patchworks.

Suna also probably never saw that his future will be like this. From just surviving everyday to a big time personality of inks and needles. With the freedom and peace he gained from following his calling, he also took a leap of faith to change his physical appearance from cropping his hair shorter, both arms, chest, and neck full of patchwork of random tattoos, and his signature snake bites that captivated the hearts of his crowd.

He never liked fame, though. He always hides whenever he’s got the chance to escape from paparazzi and respectfully declines the clients he doesn't want to work with and cannot work with. He's hard to get. That makes him more fascinating in the eyes of others. It’s like he’s hidden behind those inks and it will take thousands of needles to uncover. He’s surely one of a kind.

His skill in generating different designs specifically for each client is no joke. A lot of local and international artists and internet personalities are hitting up his instagram direct messages, asking for his details of booking. You vividly remember one of his interviews wherein he was asked if he ever recycled a design for different clients and what makes him unique from other tattoo artists. He answered“Each client has their own blueprint depending on their cup of tea. That’s what makes me unique from other artists. I created my own scheme and let it align on my client’s skin like it’s running out of breath and ink’s the only thing it needed to satisfy its hunger.”

He’s distinct. He’s consistent. He’s a genius.

But why the hell wouldn't he do your tattoo?

“You're an ink virgin, right? Why do you want to get your tattoo done by me so much?” With much curiosity, Suna leaned against the chair, arms crossing against his chest as his eyes squeezed, waiting to scrutinize your answer.

“Why not? It’s because it’s you.” you simply answered back, finally capping the bottle of ink. In your peripheral vision, you saw how Suna’s eyes dilated but still kept his unpleasant posture. “But if you don’t want to ink my body then it’s fine with me. I’ve been pestering you about it since you started and it’s been a few years. I’m not getting any younger, that's why I wanted to at least get my first tattoo before I turn 27.”

Taken aback by your statement, Suna stayed quiet for a few seconds. Finished with your extra lending hands with his set up, you threw the pair of gloves into the yellow trash bag and finally faced the 6 '1 guy. Suna’s lips were pursed before he licked the lower part, tasting the cold metal of his lip piercing.

“Where do you want to get your first tatts?” he questioned as his gaze started lingering on your bare skin.

“I don’t know, do you have a preferred part?” you threw back, not having a single clue on where you wanted to get your first one.

Removing himself from the chair, he took a step forward, slowly making his way towards you. You weren’t sure why but your feet felt like it was glued on the ground. The vision started to get blurry, almost feeling dizzy but you found your vision focusing more on Suna, who’s already in front of you with a small curve of smile written on his face.

“If you ask me where,” he lifted his hand, letting his delicate fingers glide from your shoulder up to your collarbone that sent shivers to your spine. “I prefer it to be somewhere where others can’t see it. Somewhere where I’m the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for me.” he smirked and pulled himself away from you. “Kidding. Your body, your rules.”

His touch left your skin yet you could still feel his cold fingertips against yours. You felt your breathing stopped as you held it the whole moment he was in front of you and whispered those words to you. Damn you, Suna. He surely knew how to shake your whole existence in a few words.

“I’ll be going away for three days. I’ll go to Tokyo to attend a tattoo convention.” he spoke, not letting his gaze wander to anywhere except you. “If you happen to finally be decisive about the placement before I get back, I’ll do your tatts. In exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.”

You grinned, finally hitting the jackpot. Bingo.

“Deal. I’ll see you in three days.”

Suna let out a small chuckle when he saw how happy your eyes were. Silly, he thought. Who knew that a single tattoo could mean the world to a 25-year-old adult like you?

“Oh before I forget,” he suddenly remembered, turning to you once more. “Don’t worry. I’ll update for the next three days.”

“Holy shit, Rintaro finally agreed to do yer tatts?!” Atsumu exclaimed, almost flipping the table.

“Shut your mouth, you’re spitting the best burger in Hyogo all over the place!” His twin brother, Osamu snarked at him.

Despite graduating from college and living your lives separately, one becoming a professional volleyball player for Japan, the other opening his own onigiri business, and you having your own clothing line, you couldn’t ignore the fact that the Miya twins literally have a special place in your heart. So here you are, sitting across them in a fast food chain with burgers and fries stuffed in your mouth as you continued catching up with each other’s lives after a few months of not seeing each other.

The twins know how much you wanted to get your first tattoo from Rintaro. Giving all their best shots and trying everything within their might, they still cannot lure their old mate into the trap. They were always shut down by Suna, especially Atsumu since he’s the one who’s been doing all of the talking and bargaining because apparently, he’s got a big mouth according to their fox-eyed friend.

They even went as far as recruiting the innocent Sakusa Kiyoomi, also one of their tattoo artist friends who recently opened his shop to blackmail Suna into inking your body; however, the latter just scoffed at their failed idea and told them to try harder again next time. With that, Atsumu shouldered Sakusa’s business permit expenses as a “payment” for pestering him.

“I mean, I’m also surprised, ‘yah know? It took me years to persuade him and now I just have to decide for the placement. But I would love to get it in red ink, though.” you shared your thoughts as you sipped from your diet cola.

“Did you already have a placement in your mind? Maybe your shoulders?” Osamu pointed at your exposed skin from wearing a tank top.

You just shrugged because honestly, you haven’t given it much thought yet. “I have an idea. But Rin told me that he prefers to do it somewhere exclusive only for him.”

Atsumu bursted out, laughing his whole ass off that earned a few stares from the people around you. You and Osamu were puzzled, giving him a tyrannical look.

“Fucking hell, man. I am so proud,” he said between his laughs. “Rinrin has grown into a man! He’s got balls, Y/N! He finally got the dick, Samu!”

The rest of the night went well as you guys hit karaoke and arcade after dinner just like the old days. If it wasn’t for Atsumu’s official schedule the following day, the three of you plan to invite Suna for a drink because he’s finally returning back tonight from his 3-day tattoo convention in Tokyo.

He kept his word on updating you. The very first thing that you saw when you opened your eyes on his first day in Tokyo was a ‘good morning’ text, followed by a mirror picture of him wearing a featured shirt from your summer collection. You blushed at the fact that he’s wearing your own creation even though he’s very supportive of it since the very start. He looked really good in your design.You told him that he doesn’t need to update you that much but his response was ‘Na uh. I’ll still update you so hurry up and think about where you wanted to get it, Ma’am.’. You knew that it was just a polite term yet, it’s enough to make your knees feel weak. But you were quick enough to shake the thoughts off, thinking that it’s just a friendly term to address his future client.

As the darkness engulfed the sky, the twins dropped you off in front of your apartment and bid them goodbye. It’s already 9 in the evening and you wonder if Suna’s already back in Hyogo because your message was left delivered and you haven’t received a single text from him since this afternoon.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed, flashing Suna’s contact photo on the screen.

Rintaro is calling…

“Yo.” you answered, unlocking the door of your unit.

“Ma’am? Did you just get home?” his raspy voice boomed on the other line of the phone. You never knew how much you longed for his presence, not until you heard his voice again for the first time in 3 days.

“Yup. We went to karaoke and arcade after dinner. We’re supposed to invite you for drinks but Tsumu’s got an official sched tomorrow.” you paused, kicking your shoe on the rack. “How about you? Did you just get home?”

“Yeah. Just got here and the first thing I did was to call you after fully charging my phone. It’s been dead since afternoon because I lost my charger. M’sorry for not messaging you.” you don’t know if you’re just a little bit tired from earlier but you could sense the hidden craving behind his voice.

“It’s okay, Rin. It’s no big deal,” you assured, as it was really not a big deal for you. “So, about the offer.”

You heard him clicking his tongue, followed by a soft chuckle. “Have you thought where you wanted to get your first ones, Ma’am?”

“Mhm. You wanna know where?”

“Surprise me.”

It made you giggle like a highschool kid talking to her crush for the first time. Suna is really good with his words. On the other line, Suna was leaning his head against his black bed frame, unintentionally scratching his bare chest as he’s not used to wearing a top inside his house and saw it. He took a deep breath before biting his lower lip to surpass the fact that he’s thrilled with the thought of him finally marking your skin.

“Where do you want to get it done? It can be in my studio but I can also do home service, exclusive only for you.”

“I want to get it done in the studio. I wanted to experience sitting in your leather chair as a client, Sir.”

Damn. Something ignited inside Suna when he heard you calling Sir, right back when he started calling you Ma’am. It’s like a switch being flipped on. Composing his mind and shaking any thoughts, he nodded as if you’re seeing him right now.

“Alright then. We’ll start tomorrow at nine in the morning. Make sure to get enough sleep, eat breakfast and drink water. I’ll brief you tomorrow once we’re there, Ma’am. Remember that in exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” he reminded, knowing that you don’t like going to bed early.

“Wow, your customer service is top tier.” you commended as your mind started intensifying with the thought of finally doing it tomorrow.

“Exclusive only for you, Ma’am.” he reminded once again, trying to hint you up.

“Okay, Sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you. Good night, Y/N.”

Fuck. It’s not the first time Suna has said that to you but your insides are rumbling. You felt your blood rushing as your vital organ increased the pumping because anytime now, you could feel suffocated from the excitement. Calm down. Calm down.

“Good night, Rin.”

With that, he let you hang up the call. Later that night, you tried your best to get a good night's sleep yet in your fantasy, you still feel like you’re sleep calling with Suna. You couldn’t take your mind off with his words earlier. He’s going to tell and show you something? Still trying to squeeze every cell of your brain, you cannot pulp any idea on what it’s going to be.

You just hope it’s nothing serious because it’s actually scary, the thought of him being dead serious on something. You shrugged off any negative thoughts and wished that it's nothing because you wouldn’t be able to grasp if it’s going to significantly impact your life in a pessimistic way. You might lose your shit because you know that you’re clearly, madly, deeply attached to Suna Rintaro.

“So this is how it feels like to sit right here.” you spoke with awe as you comfortably aligned yourself with the chair’s depth. It was adjusted perfectly for your height.

Suna grinned, setting up the materials on the stainless table beside you. You offered to help but he quickly declined it, reasoning that you’re here as a client today, not as his self-labeled apprentice.

Despite being here lots of time already, it felt like this was the first time you’ve seen his studio. The details you didn’t notice before suddenly popped in your vision, such as the fern green wallpaper and plants that he’s been watering regularly. On the outside, it looks like Suna’s more of a monochrome guy but in reality, he adores green so much because according to him, it brings the dull color into life. For him, it feels like life.

You also noticed the usual well-lit led ceiling lights wrapped around the four corners of his studio are now dimly-lit as well as the aroma of lavender mint from his scented candles that he ignited for the first time since he got it lingering probably to cover up the smell of blood, dead skin, and ink. Oh, and there’s also an inspired portrait of his favorite characters from his favorite movies drawn in his own artstyle framed and hung on the walls. His usual arctic monkeys and heavy metal playlist was replaced with some 88rising, r&b, and keshi which are you favorite artists and genre at the moment,

You never took your time to appreciate Suna’s studio this much until now.

“Okay Ma’am, show me where you wanted it to be placed.” he asked, almost ordering you. Taking a deep inhale, you were surely nervous as heck right now but you already made your mind. Somewhere where he’s the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for him, huh?

You slowly lifted your white shirt, revealing your red lace bralette that perfectly hugged your breasts. You specifically chose this outfit for this occasion. Swallowing a lump, you pointed at your waist up to the side of your right boob, passing it and nearly up to your armpit. “Here. I wanted to get it here.”

Suna was quiet the whole time yet his widened foxy eyes tell you otherwise. He’s speechless. His eyes were fixated on you, admiring the view which he saw for the first time. He knows that you’re sexy and elegant, but he didn’t expect that you’re this sexy. In his eyes, you are the most beautiful art he’s ever seen in his whole life. He fought the urge to hold you in your waist because he wanted to feel your skin against his.

“Tough spot. Damn Ma’am, you’re courageous.” he commented on your preference. You felt your cheeks heating up as embarrassment started creeping in because Suna hasn’t removed his gaze yet on your body. “Can I…touch it? I’ll just…assess it.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together as Suna’s gloved hand made its way to your body. He traced your torso up to your ribcage and he couldn’t help but to squeeze a small smile in between.

“Will it hurt?” you hesitantly asked.

“It will. But I’ll be gentle, I promise.” you almost choked on his answer because it gave you other ideas. “Now make yourself comfortable. Tell me if it hurts, we’ll take a break. I’ll do my best to make it painless but I cannot guarantee.”

You fixed your position on the inclined chair, making yourself at home on your left side but your torso was slightly flattened down, facing him to get a better access to the area, especially your sides up to your armpit. Suna sat down in the swivel stool and faced you from your left, maintaining his demeanor as he grabbed the stencil he prepared. You intentionally didn’t ask about the design he planned because you also wanted to surprise yourself with Suna's creativity. You wanted to astonish yourself and it pretty much tells how big your trust is when it comes to Suna.

Once he’s done with shaving the excess hair, the paper hits your side, tickling your skin as Suna’s gloved hand starts flattening it against your body. It was followed by the cold sensation of the adhesive washing the paper. His right pinky accidentally brushed against your boob, making you scream internally. In no time, he’s already removing the piece of paper, indicating that the stencil’s already in place.

Suna licked his lower lip and you noticed how he wore his usual snake bites differently today by swapping the horseshoe jewelry into a plain one. He pushed himself forward but still maintained the distance between the two of you. Reaching out for the tattoo gun, you’ve already had an idea how it sounded but when he tested it and made a whirring sound that buzzed on your ears, you found yourself clutching the hem of Suna’s shirt due to the tense building up inside your stomach.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked, staring down at you. The whole point of view sent you to spiral as you never imagined yourself being under Suna.

“Yeah, sorry. I hope you don’t mind this.” you pointed at your hands curled into his shirt which earned him a few laughs. Suna thought that it was so fucking cute when look so small to him.

“You’re free to hold me wherever.” he smiled, caressing your exposed shoulder as a sign of assurance. “Remember that if it hurts too much, just tap out and we can take a break, Ma’am.”

Bobbing your head, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the sound of the gun reverberated once again. Suna started poking the needle against your skin. The first five minutes were much more uncomfortable rather than painful - almost feeling like a slow rug burn. However, as he moved upwards and started hitting the bones of your side ribs, it started feeling hell that you couldn’t help but small whimpers escaped from your mouth. It stings like crazy.

“Are you okay? We can take a break. Do you want some water?” Suna offered concern as he saw your forehead creased into an agonizing expression.

“N-no, just continue. I’ll eventually get used to it.” you declared, not wanting to raise your white flag.

Suna nodded and started working on it again. You could feel like he’s outlining something in more of a swivel way. You could also feel like there’s a lot of lines and shading going on. The next 30 minutes were spent with the two of you talking about college, reminiscing the memories you shared together as well as with the Miya twins. Another 30 minutes and he’s already wrapping up by taking one last wipe before applying the tattoo jelly on the area.

“I thought that it will be painful as fuck,” you said truthfully. “You wrecked my expectations, Rin.”

“Well, it’s an honor to be complimented by you. I told you, I’ll be gentle.” he winked, removing his gloves on his hands. “Congratulations, Y/N. You’re no longer a tattoo virgin.”

Laughters echoed in the room as he clapped at your achievement. He grabbed the mirror that was lying beside your chair and signaled you to sit up. Obeying him, you lifted yourself as you felt your skin being stretched.

“I hope you like my design, Y/N.” flipping the mirror, you saw your inked skin for the first time.

Your mouth parted, eyes filled with wonderstruck.

There’s a lot of fine lines from the upper part of your side, down to your ribs, and finally your waist. The lines were broken yet some of them were connected with each other. In the middle, there’s multiple flowers drawn in outline, looking like they have bloomed together. You couldn’t elucidate the design in words yet your brain could tell how it looks and your heart could tell how it feels like to be inked distinctively.

You finally understood why they call Suna a genius. Because he’s the only one who has the ability to make you feel like you're abstract and he’s the only one who can understand you.

“Do you like it?” he asked, a little bit nervous as you stayed silent.

“Like?” you questioned. “I fucking love it, Rintarou. I love it so much that it made me speechless… Thank you. Wow…Seriously, thank you.”

You’re not kidding. You’re not exaggerating. You were at a loss for words because only the silence of appreciation could speak for right now on how you feel about the design.

Pleased, a genuine smile carved on Suna’s lips as he watched you beaming with joy on your first body art done by none other than him.

“Now in exchange, I want you to pop my shirt.” he cleared his throat, bringing the mirror down as he signaled you.. Your face was puzzled. Pop…his shirt? “Come here, Y/N. Take off my shirt.”

You were hesitant at first but you gradually moved towards him and lifted his shirt out of his body. You have never seen him shirtless before because as far as you know, it makes him uncomfortable to show some skin to others before that’s why you never saw him wearing sleeveless before. And now he’s asking you to pop his shirt for what reason?

Pulling the fabric above, Suna’s exposed skin was hit with the cool air. You gasped when you saw multiple scars across the chest and lower body. Some of them formed multiple layers above each other, making the skin rise from its base. He doesn’t have any tattoo in his lower body but he has one in his chest, near his heart. And it was…shit. Could it be…?

“You see, Y/N, I never really talked about this before but my dad used to uh, beat me up with a socket wrench when I was a child,” he spoke, voice filled with coldness. “He’s an addict and whenever he doesn’t have the money to support his damn addiction, he’ll find another way to release his stress and that is to beat me up whenever he’s got the fucking chance.”

You felt like all the nerves in your body were paralyzed as your eyes slowly widened, sinking his words inside your head. He’s dad is what? Beating him? With a socket wrench? Fuck.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach college, ya know? That’s why when I was given the privilege to still continue my education, I didn’t let it go to waste as I thought that it was the only way to escape from the madness of my life.” his fingers brushed against his scars. It was healed, probably years ago yet you could visibly see the paint being painted on his face as he felt the trace of his yesterday.

“And suddenly, all of this turned all the way around when I became friends with the twins and you.” he lifted his gaze, maintaining his eye contact with you. Something ignited inside Suna when he met your orbs. He felt like colors bursted in his eyes. “When my dad finally got the help he needed and I made peace with whatever demons I have, that’s when I felt like I had another chance with life. That’s why when I started taking interest in inking, I took it very seriously because for the first time, I saw that I finally saw that I got the chance to stand in life. To live, not just to survive.”

The sincere confession made a short pang inside your heart. All this time, he was hurting. All the damn time, he’s living his life in hell. And being friends with him, just being by his side, made him realize that he can finally free himself from the uncanny of his life.

“The reason why I keep on rejecting your request is because I am not ready yet. Y/N, I spent my whole career crafting the most unique design I could ever create for you. Just for you. I wanted to make it the best among the rest. Also, as cheesy as it may sound, I wanted to be the man worthy of inking your very first tattoo.”

You felt like your heart’s going feral inside your ribcage. Suna stood up in front of you, bare bodies touching each other. You could feel his minty hot breath tickling your nose despite the coldness of the room. Slowly, he grabbed both of your hands and intertwined your fingers together before bringing it in front of you to plant a soft kiss on it.

“I’m sorry that it took me this much time to be worthy of everything. Thank you for not giving up on me. You may notice the lines in your tattoos, it represents the thought of despite being broken, you could still find your way back and bloom within it. Y/N, you gave me that reason to bloom again at my own pace.”

He dragged your hands in his chest, making you feel the only tattoo he has on his upper body. “Y/N, this is your initials. This was my very first tattoo and I intentionally got it in my heart so that whenever I hold my heart, I’ll always remember that you’re here.”

Suna’s eyes glimmered, mirroring yours as you could feel him getting more emotional any second. Giving up, you stood on your toes, enclosing the centimeters given between the two of you by latching your lips to his. Without giving it a second thought, Suna pulled you closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. It was a hot, wet kiss that the two of you shared as tears started tearing down in your cheeks. When Suna tasted the salty liquid, he finally let his guard down and cried himself between the sloppy kiss.

Pulling away, both of you were panting as your cheeks were stained with the liquid that you shared. You let out a chuckle and pulled him into a tight hug which he gladly returned.

“You’re never late, Suna. You will always be the tattoo artist that captivated my heart, no matter what and no matter how long it takes. I’ll always wait for your creations, and I’ll kiss every one of your flaws until you realize you’re love.”

bonus

y/n's "exclusive" tattoo made it to suna's instagram :]

605 notes · View notes

0cta9on · 6 months ago

Text

Stuck With You

length: +2k words

Genre: Fluff

NewJeans Minji x Male Reader (OC)

(Author's Note: My first commission!! Thank you to f_r_e_s_h for purchasing a commission, I appreciate it a lot :) If you're interested in buying a commission from me, head on over to my ko-fi page!!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

A light breeze brushes past you, relieving you of your exhaustion for a brief moment as you watch the sun set below the city of Paris from the balcony of your hotel room. The 14-hour flight from Korea was hell, but the view alone made it all worth it. It has always been part of your bucket list to visit Paris one day, it’s a shame that you won’t be able to actually experience any of it though. With the International Summit starting tomorrow, you need to be extra focused on your work as a diplomat representing your country.

A cafe sits across the street from your hotel, beckoning you with its warm and welcoming light. You watch as the people inside talk and laugh about things you can only assume, enjoying one another’s company on this chilly winter day. A nice cup of coffee sounds great right now, but you have to be ready for tomorrow. But… It’s not tomorrow yet. The night is still young, giving you a couple hours to check out the cafe and maybe even explore the city for a little bit. You did all the extra work you needed to do on the plane, so there’s no reason for you to stay in your hotel room. After the summit is over, you’ll be on a flight straight back to Korea, and when are you ever gonna have the time to come back to Paris again? Besides, you’ve been working too hard for far too long, you deserve to have a small break.

Without hesitation, you grab your coat and exit your room, beelining it straight towards the elevators as you mentally practice the little French that you learned before the trip. With a resounding ding, the elevator doors open and you walk inside, only a couple floors standing between you and the City of Light.

The elevator shifts to a stop on one of the floors, opening to reveal a girl around your age wearing a mask and a cap pulled low over her eyes. Even with the majority of her face covered, you could feel the aura of elegance and beauty surrounding her. Her outfit isn’t anything crazy on the surface - a hoodie layered with a leather jacket and a clean pair of jeans - yet something about the way she wears it is so attractive. You wouldn’t be surprised if you find out that she’s a model for Paris Fashion Week, which coincidentally occurs at the same time as the summit.

“Hello,” you greet as she steps into the elevator. She returns your greeting with a simple nod, a small gesture that makes your heart flutter. You didn’t necessarily believe in love at first sight, but you imagine this is how it would feel like.

The elevator descends in silence, save for its mechanical rumble. Due to the nature of your job, you meet a lot of important people from around the world, so your conversational skills have naturally improved over the years. However, you suddenly find yourself tongue-tied around this random girl, not even a simple “How are you?” can escape your lips. All you can do is sneak little glances at her, but now you just feel creepy. Oh well, it’s not like you’re here to meet women or anything of that sort. You just want to feel some freedom for a little bit.

Suddenly, you nearly fall to the ground as the elevator begins to jerk violently. A hauntingly loud creaking noise can be heard from outside as the elevator abruptly stops its descent. The girl trips forward into your chest, and you instinctively catch her, holding on until the elevator eventually stops swaying.

Both of you share a huge sigh of relief. Even if the elevator stopped working, at least you're not plummeting to your doom.

“T-thank you,” the girl says, her voice trembling slightly. You meet her eyes for the first time, suddenly greeted by the most beautiful shade of brown you have ever seen. They’re invigorating like the strongest shot of espresso, sweet like the creamiest hazelnut chocolate, and warming like the first cup of hot cocoa in the winter. You could spend hours, no, years just looking into her eyes, getting lost in every flicker of her irises and every flutter of her lashes.

“Um, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, s-sorry,” you stutter nervously, finally letting her go. You turn away from her, hoping she doesn’t notice the deep red in your cheeks.

She starts pushing buttons at random, but none of them seem to work, not even the one to call the firefighters. A wave of dread washes over the both of you at the realization that you have no idea how long it’ll take to get out of this metal coffin. Maybe an hour at best, maybe never at worst. With nothing else you can possibly do, you resign yourself to the ground, resting your back against the wall. This is what you get for trying to live a little - you get trapped in a box, forced to think about the consequences of your actions. All because you wanted a cup of coffee.

The girl sits across from you, tossing her hat and mask off in defeat, ruffling her silky black hair with her fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat - she is absolutely gorgeous. You swear you’ve seen her face before, maybe she’s a model for a high-fashion brand or the daughter of a rich CEO who ends up getting in the news for trivial matters. Either way, you can’t help but stare at her, slack-jawed in awe.

“Um, did you want an autograph or something?” She asks, her eyebrows raised in judgment.

You pick your jaw up off the ground, your cheeks burning red with embarrassment. “N-no, sorry, you just look really familiar. Have we met somewhere before?”

She chuckles lightly at your expression. “No, I don’t think we have. I’m Minji.” She reaches her hand out towards you in a friendly handshake, which you accept with a smile.

“I’m Eric. It’s nice to meet you, Minji.” The two of you share a laugh despite the unconventional circumstances. “Weird question, are you Korean?”

“Wah, that’s a good guess. How’d you know?” Minji tilts her head like a curious puppy, causing your heart rate to skyrocket. You can’t fathom how someone can be this cool, cute, and pretty all at the same time.

“Your name,” you explain. “I live in Korea for work, so I’ve gotten used to hearing Korean names.”

“Really? What do you do for work?”

“I work at the embassy in South Korea representing my country. I’m actually in Paris for the International Summit this week.”

“Oh wow, that’s so cool!” Minji’s eyes light up with wonder, her smile making you forget about the dire situation you’re in.

“Hehe, thanks! What about you, what do you do for work?”

“I, um…” She hesitates, lost in thought. “I’m here for Paris Fashion Week.”

“That makes sense, you’re very beautiful,” you suddenly blurt out. Your eyes grow wide with shock at your own words. “I-I mean, uh-”

“No, it’s okay. That’s very sweet.” A light pink hue graces her cheeks as she smirks at you. “So, is this your first time in Paris?”

You let out a sigh of relief, thankful that she didn’t take your compliment weirdly. “Yeah, it’s my first time. I was gonna go out and see the city for a bit since I’ll be swamped with work for the next couple of days, but now I’m… here.”

She nods in understanding. “That’s what I was doing too. It’s difficult to find a moment to myself because of my job. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a ton of fun, but sometimes I feel like a robot following orders, not really being able to live.”

The space between you falls silent in contemplation. You know that feeling all too well. You love that you’re able to help thousands of people every day by being a voice for the people who need it, but work can often get in the way of what you want to do. When was the last time you spent time with your family? Or sat down with a good book? Or went on a date? When was the last time you were able to breathe?

“If you weren’t stuck in here right now, what would you be doing?” You ask in hopes that it will lift the mood.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Probably walk around and take pictures of all the pretty lights. Maybe get some ice cream if there are any shops open.”

Your ears perk up. “Ice cream? In the winter?”

Minji puts her arms up in defense. “Before you go judging me, just try it for yourself first, alright?”

“No, I like it too!” You exclaim, surprised that you found someone that thinks like you. “I don’t like waiting until summer just to eat ice cream. It tastes better during winter anyways.”

“Oh my god!” Minji jumps up in excitement. “Finally, someone who gets it! All my friends called me weird for eating ice cream when it’s cold outside!”

Enthused by her energy, you stand up to meet her. “They just don’t understand that it doesn’t melt as quickly so you get to enjoy it for longer.”

“Right?!”

You suddenly find yourself inches away from her face, staring into her big, round eyes. The subtle heat of her breath brushes against your cheeks, warming your entire body. You would gladly spend forever stuck in this moment with her, watching the reflection of the universe in her eyes.

As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Minji pulls away, leaving you breathless. You quickly change the subject before the air between you gets too awkward to the point of no return.

“So… Paris Fashion Week. How’d you get involved with that?”

Much to your relief, Minji eases up, leaning against the wall as she turns to you. “I was invited by Chanel to come and watch their show, and I’ve always loved fashion so there was no way I was going to decline the invitation.”

“Oh, you’re watching the show? I assumed that you were modeling for them,” you say.

She chuckles to herself, blushing slightly. “Are you sure you didn’t break the elevator on purpose just so you could flirt with me?”

“N-no, I didn’t, I swear!” You stutter, flustered. Minji cackles like a hyena at your expression, causing you to keel over in laughter yourself from the insane sound coming out of her mouth. The sound of joyous laughter from two strangers fills the small elevator, unsure of how much time has passed or if you’re ever going to get out of there. You wonder what would’ve happened if the elevator worked normally. Would you be here talking like this? Or would the two of you go about your night without a single word shared between each other? Sure, seeing the streets of Paris would have been great, but would it have been as great as this?

Both of you find yourselves lying side by side, staring up at the bright fluorescent light, your stomachs aching from laughter. Despite it being your first meeting, you can’t help but feel like you’ve known her your whole life. Maybe it’s the same way survivors of a big tragedy bond through shared trauma or something like that.

“Do you really not know who I am?” Minji asks after a long silence. You rack your brain for any possible memories of ever seeing her, but only a faint silhouette appears in your mind.

“Sorry, I really don’t,” you answer. “Oh god, don’t tell me we’re old classmates or something. I would feel terrible if we used to be friends and I didn’t know.”

Her laugh tickles your ear like spring grass brushing against your legs. “No, it’s not like that. Honestly, it feels kinda nice that you don’t know anything about me. No expectations, no questions, no nothing. You just treat me like…. a regular human being,” she sighs.

“Now I’m kinda scared to ask who you are,” you quip, catching a smile from her. “Maybe I don’t have it as bad as you, but I can relate to you somewhat. There’s a lot of people depending on me to make the right decisions and if I miss up even a little bit, so many people get affected by it. If I get recognized in the streets, sometimes they’ll outright tell me what to do, talking about how their families would suffer because of me or outright threatening me to do what they want. It feels like I’m constantly walking on a tightrope being held by two sides that hate each other. No matter what I do, someone is always unhappy.”

Minji meets your eyes in mutual understanding. “That sounds really tough. I’m sorry, Eric.”

Such a simple gesture, yet one that you desperately needed. Talking to her feels like a massive weight is being lifted off of you. The amount of silent suffering you’ve had to endure over the years is finally being unloaded without judgment. With how many people’s lives you affect every day, you never truly realized just how lonely you feel. Thanks to Minji, you feel a little less alone.

“So, what is that you do?” You ask to lift up the mood. “I’ve been dying to know. I’m assuming you’re a celebrity of some kind?”

She smirks at you. “Have you ever heard of New Jeans?”

And then it clicks. You’ve seen her face plastered everywhere in Korea, billboards, ads, commercials, less than 24 hours ago you walked past her face in the airport right before you left. While you aren’t the biggest Kpop fan in the world, you would be lying if you said you didn’t have Hype Boy in your playlist for a solid month.

“Ah, so that’s why you looked so familiar. I’m glad you’re not a classmate I forgot about,” you joke.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we were friends in another lifetime. You’re very easy to talk to.” Minji meets your eyes, casting that warm smile that makes you feel at ease. You forget that you’re in this tiny box with no way out but patience. You forget that in less than 24 hours, you’ll be surrounded by the most important figures in the world, attending a conference that can impact billions of people across the globe. You forget about your feelings of loneliness, anxiety, and stress that you’ve been feeling recently. As you look into Minji’s eyes, all you can think about is her. Her kindness. Her radiance. Her laugh. Just her.

The elevator begins to shake around you, rumbling to life. Your eyes shut, bracing for impact, but all you feel is the gradual descent of the elevator before it lands on the first floor. You and Minji stand up, not a word exchanged between the two of you. Is this… it? Is it over? Are you just supposed to go your separate ways now?

The doors open to reveal the owner of the hotel on the other side, relief and guilt painted on his sweaty face. “I-I am terribly sorry about the elevator, are you two alright?” He asks.

As you reassure him of your safety, you notice Minji quickly slipping past, donning her mask and hat. You decline the owner’s offer of a free spa day and chase after her.

Minji is an idol. Intimidatingly gorgeous, held to an impossibly high standard that she somehow manages to exceed at every turn. Despite that, she’s also kind, humorous, and down to Earth, nothing like many of the celebrities you’ve seen on social media. Even in your brief meeting, she understood you. She wanted to understand you. You can visit Paris again sometime in the future. But Minji? You’ll never meet a person like her again.

You push through the doors, hit by the frigid winter air as a gentle dusting of snow falls upon Paris. Minji stands at a cross walk, her silhouette covered by unmistakable, and you quickly catch up to her. “H-hey, hi, um…” The words get caught in your throat as nervousness overwhelms you. Can you really do this? Would you be able to make this work with your busy schedules? Maybe, maybe not. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.

“Would you want to get a cof-”

“Yes,” Minji interrupts you, her voice lilting with enthusiasm. “I would love to have coffee. With you.” The snowfall catches in her eyes, glimmering with hope and excitement.

All the nerves you felt moments ago completely wash away, replaced by disbelief and an indescribable happiness in your heart. Minji intertwines her fingers with yours, warming your body against the cold as the two of you cross the street towards the cafe and the rest of your lives.

#newjeans #kim minji #newjeans minji #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #minji x male oc #newjeans minji x male oc #minji x male reader #newjeans minji x male reader #fluff #minji fluff #newjeans minji fluff

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akechi-stole-my-heart · 3 months ago

Text

a five step plan to prank your rival, by akira kurusu

step one: in april, buy two (2) spicy starvicks vending machine coffees. then proceed to forget about them for the next seven months. these are surprise tools that will help us later.

step two: in november, akechi joins your team. you know two key things about him. one: he cannot handle his spice. two: he is the fakest motherfucker on the planet.

step three: after you have spent a significant amount of time infiltrating her palace, offer akechi coffee in one of sae niijima's safe rooms. he will be expecting a home brew from leblanc. instead, hand akechi the seven month old spicy starvicks vending machine coffee. watch carefully as he feigns gratitude, and then proceeds to gag on the concoction while insisting he's fine, thank you very much for the tasty drink.

step four: fake your death. watch akechi die a few weeks later. don't speak to him for another month.

step five: akechi is now, finally, being himself. which means he's something of a gigantic asshole, but you're into it, so it's all good. only problem being, you have one nine month old spicy starvicks vending machine coffee left, and you've already pulled one over on him once. you'll have to be clever if you're going to fool him twice. not to worry--you're prepared. wait until akechi has utterly exhausted himself, and cannot refuse any offers of sustenance. offer coffee to all of your friends, so as to escape suspicion, or risk being turned down for singling him out as particularly "weak." before having ventured into the metaverse, be sure to heat the starvicks and pour it into a leblanc mug before tucking it into your magical coat that holds all foods in perfect stasis without mess. now it will be indistinguishable from leblanc's coffee. when you hand akechi the mug, hand out identical mugs to your friends first, and allow them to drink your delicious leblanc brew. this way he will have no good reason to suspect a thing. now, watch smugly as your perfectly planned trap springs for a second time.

step six: oh shit oh fuck you are now being strangled to death by a man in skintight leather. this was absolutely not the end goal all along. what are they all looking at you like that for?

#sera plays p5r #someone should draw this <- ignoring she could do this at any time #p5 #akira kurusu #akeshu #goro akechi #based on an actual tradition I do when I replay this game btw

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the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

Note

Hello!!! I have simple request if you don’t mind how about drunk Hobie with y/n…I wanna see how you would write their dynamic cause I love your writing <3

Thank you for requesting, lovely! 💛

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader, drinking, cw vomit, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You wake up groggily to the telephone ringing loudly inside your shared bedroom. With one eye open, you blindly reach for the receiver, hand bumping all over the mess that is your bedside table. Bringing the phone to your ear, face squished on the pillow, sleep still clinging to your lashes.

“Hello?” Your voice cracks.

“Y/N? It's Ned” you wake up in a flash, mind already flashing to Hobie or his friends having some sort of emergency during their weekly get together. Is there a fire? Did someone get alcohol poisoning? Is he okay?

“Come get your man. He's gonna get kicked out with how loud the fucker is right now. The owner’s staring daggers at him”

Sure enough, there's a loud booming laughter in the background and what sounds to be glass shattering. Ned's swirling his words together but sober enough to put together a cohesive sentence. But definitely not drunk enough to handle his friends' shenanigans.

“Oh shit! Please hurry, he's telling everyone that he's Spider-Man, what a weirdo.” there's a rustling sound then the phone falls, banging on the wall briefly. There's fast footsteps and a muffled, “Hobie! Christ, that's your third fucking glass!”

There's roaring laughter, and an unmistakable voice. “Who you callin’? The coppers? You're no fun anymore, Neddy”

The dial tone ends and you're already putting on your trainers, taking your keys, wallet and coat. You don't even bother changing out of your pajamas, they look presentable enough, right?

The train ride was awkward. You in your pajamas, hair disheveled, and mismatched socks. Good thing there weren't a lot of commuters this late or the staring would actually get to you. There was an awkward silence when you stepped inside, but with you staring right back at them with your sleep deprived eyes, they looked away immediately.

You practically ran to the white horse pub, the party was in full swing, people with sloshing pints in hand and men drunkenly trying to walk straight. Hugging your coat closer, you tie them closed, scanning the pub for the familiar figure.

Spotting Hobie halfway up the table with Ned trying to drag him off, his laughs would make you giggle if not for him being so inebriated, chugging an entire pint while his other friends cheer him on, banging on tables and guffawing over the already loud pub. A friend you've recognized before joins him on the table, finishing his own pint. Hobie eggs him on with him tipping his friend's pint closer to the man's lips, while chanting: you can do it, mate!

The wood wobbles and you quickly make your way towards him. Ned sighs in relief, you smile apologetically before he changes course for the other friend on the table, almost tackling him off it.

You hold onto his leather jacket in an attempt to balance him. He usually has great balance but you don't completely trust his coordination.

“Hobie!” You yell through the loud chatter of the pub. The owner watches on in your peripheral, “Sorry, Joe! I'll get him home!”

“You better! Your boy's a menace, he's been inciting everyone on his little drinking game”

“Isn't that good? People are buying more booze?”

“Don't push it, love. That's the only reason why I'm not gonna make him pay for the broken glasses”

You wince, “sorry about those” He grunts, waving off.

Tugging at his jacket, you call his name again. Hobie finally looks down, eyes flicking from your hands to your face. You'd expect him to greet you with a smile or even drop down and hug you, instead, he swats your hands away from him, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.

You blink in surprise, bewildered at his actions. “Hey! Hobie!”

“What?” he folds his knees to level with you, his eyes blinking a little too quickly, head tilted, hands on his knees for extra balance.

“What do you mean ‘what’? I'm here to take you home. You're too drunk” you hold his hand, tugging him down on the table.

“And you're too bloody handsy” he flings your hand away. “I'm–” he blinks slowly, trying to get his bearings. “I'm have a girl back home, yeah? Don't” Hobie pokes your forehead.

You get cross eyed, a minute ago you'd thought he was just a little too drunk, the kind of drunk where you're wobbly on your feet, now you know he definitely can't see straight. You decide to play along, just so you can tease him in the morning.

“Oh” you bring your hands on your chest in a mock surprise. “Didn't know that, so sorry”

“No harm, but she–she would…could throw hands if she saw you grope me like that”

Grope? “I wasn't– you know what, tell me more about her. She sounds nice”

Hobie beams at you, a resemblance of what he would usually look like once he sees you in a crowded room. He sits on the table like you just asked a child what his favourite dinosaur is.

“She– she's sooo good to me, y’know” you nod, biting your lip to stop a giddy laugh from escaping. “I told her that I was Spiderman and y’know what she did?!” He excitedly yells, good thing no one here actually believes his drunk ramblings or else the entire pub would know that they're currently drinking with spiderman himself.

“No, what did she do?” you smile, eyes twinkling under the dim lights of the pub.

“She said she loves me! And and” he gestures excitedly. “Supports me! Isn't that fuckin' amazing?!” Hobie sighs longingly. “I miss her, I wish she was here. She'd probably bonk me on the head with how much I've drunk though.” He trails off, his eyes glassy. “I should go home”

“Yeah, you should” you slowly inch closer to him. “Hey, babe?”

“Yes, lovie?” Hobie does a double take, his eyes wide as dinner plates. “Lovie!” He tackles you in for a hug. His face snuggling closer to your neck. You rub his back, giggling.

Now you're the one struggling to balance. “I miss you too” you kiss his temple. “Let's go home before you let out anymore of your secrets”

You would have struggled more if you brought him to the tube, luckily enough, you found a cab within five minutes of waiting (and wrangling) with Hobie.

After a round of goodbyes from his equally drunk friends, you finally got him inside the taxi. The driver clicks his tongue at another drunk passenger.

“He better not get sick all over my seats” the driver says gruffly.

“He won't, don't worry” you say with a fake smile.

“I think ‘m gonna be sick.” Hobie opens the car window, letting the cool air in.

“Please don't” you whisper to him, patting his back affectionately whilst you smile at the glaring driver so he doesn't kick you out.

After a car ride that seemed endless and one throw up outside the flat, you're both finally home. Getting him up the stairs was more of a struggle, he wobbled on his feet, almost tumbling off the staircase, if not for you clinging to him he would most definitely fall. Once inside the bedroom, he groans, leaning his entire body on you. Arms enclosed around your shoulders, head lolling to the side.

Hobie drops like a sack of potatoes on the mattress, bringing you down with him. You land on top as he traps you in his embrace.

“You're so good to me” he murmurs against the crown of your head.

“Mm-hmm, so I've been told” you cuddle closer, not minding the smell of alcohol.

“Because it's true” Hobie places a sticky kiss on your head then folding his neck just to reach your temple.

“You're gonna regret this in the morning” you help him in attacking your face by leaning over him, your elbows on the side of his head, fingers scratching his scalp. His hands skim over to your waist, holding you securely.

“I'll never” kiss “ever” kiss “regret” kiss “snogging you”

You laugh from the belly with every peck he leaves on your skin. “I know that, I’m talking about you drinking too much”

Hobie pauses, eyes narrowed from tiredness, lips still pursed together. “Ah that, sorry” he apologizes for his future self even though he would most definitely say it in the morning when you hand him some meds and lots of fluids.

“We'll talk about it once you're sober and without a banging headache. Rest, I'll take care of you” kissing his nose, you leave his side to grab fresh clothes for him to change into.

Before you completely leave, Hobie takes your hand, squeezing it.

“Love you, thank you” You let him bring your knuckles up to his lips, he sighs.

“Love you too, I think you're about to have the worst morning tomorrow” you chuckle, leaning closer to his touch like a planet orbiting its sun.

“With you, it won't be”

“You get cheesy when you're drunk” kissing the tip of his nose, you leave again, turning away, earning a grunt of disapproval from Hobie.

“I hate to see you go but I love watching you leave!” he says with gusto.

You should've brought a video camera with you when you were in the pub.

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beaft · 1 month ago

Note

you almost got arrested for armed robbery?? how????

(re the tags on this post)

at the time this story takes place i was 19 and an art student, which is shorthand for “emotionally unstable and taking a lot of drugs” so please do not judge me on the basis of this incident as i am now much calmer and less prone to making foolish decisions, or at least the foolish decisions i make tend to be mildly embarrassing rather than illegal and/or life-threatening.

be me

attend house party

vibes are rancid

decide to dip and find a convenient rooftop so i can sit and look at the moon

while i am sitting on this rooftop looking at the moon and basking in the effects of the 2 tabs of acid i just took, i cannot help but notice that there is a commotion happening in the apartment block across the street from me

lots of shouting

windows are being smashed

tvs are being carried out and loaded into vans

“huh” i think

“That’s not good”

at which point, naturally,

the cops show up.

they start shouting and gesturing, clearly indicating that they would like me to come down from the rooftop

i obey

(2 tabs of acid)

i have just enough presence of mind to slip the additional baggie of coke i'm carrying in my pocket into a nearby wheelie bin so they don't find it if they search me

(TRAGEDY.)

as soon as i’m off the roof the cops swarm and start asking various questions like “what's your name?" and "what did you see?” and “what were you doing up there?”

all questions that i would find quite easy to answer if i had a working tongue and brain

i am attempting to seem like a law-abiding citizen but even in my extravagantly deranged state i can tell i am not pulling it off

cops are getting more and more suspicious

cop 1’s radio crackles with an onlooker's description of one of the suspects who was, according to the onlooker, “acting as lookout”

suspect (we are informed) has short blue hair and is wearing a leather coat

the cops stare at me as this information is relayed

i stare back, undeniably blue-haired and leather-coated

it abruptly occurs to me that i am being treated as A Suspect in this armed robbery

which. yes. obviously, very silly, because i'm a gay art student who can't buy energy drinks without being ID'd and stammers when making phone calls to anyone who isn't my mum. but also it's hard to see the silly side when you're being grilled by the police and your only defence is "i couldn't have done this illegal thing because i was busy doing this other, unrelated illegal thing"

i would describe the following conversation to you but unfortunately i was so high and in such a haze of unbridled panic that i remember very little of it

however at the time of writing this i am not in jail so we must assume that they decided I was too stupid to have been involved and let me go home

my only other recollection from that night is coming down to discover that i was sitting in my friend's creepily empty flat and couldn't remember how i'd got there, and for some reason i was halfway through watching "high school musical two" on DVD and enjoying it thoroughly. i had also lost both my shoes.

was a good rooftop though 10/10 would climb again

#had to go back later that night (morning?) to retrieve the wheelie bin coke which was a whole other adventure.#drugs cw #this has been sitting in my drafts forever but i figured i may as well post it in case anyone's ever been curious about my dissolute youth

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 22 days ago

Text

Just One Reason: Happiest Time of Year

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You put the phone down. You don’t even have the energy to be disappointed, because you’re not surprised. You don’t have hope left to be let down. You blow out between your lips and hang your head, holding it as you rest your elbows on your legs.

Right. There’s nothing left. You can’t ever accept that but you also can’t change that. Yet what is really the twist of the knife is that you’re not getting your money back. It’s the beginning of December and you’re dirt poor. Literally. Everything you have is now in the ground.

Well, at least you don’t have any gifts to buy. You roll your eyes back before another deluge of tears can flow over. You throw yourself back against the couch and sigh.

“So, how did that go?” Lloyd gives you a start as his timbre slices through the tension.

“How everything’s been going,” you sit up, embarrassed, unsure of how long he’s been there. “So, not well, but nothing I can do but keep going forward. If that’s even possible.”

“Mm, I’m sorry, toots,” he hums.

You stand and shrug. “I think I’m just going to go be alone.”

He nods as he watches you curl around the couch and cross the room. He doesn’t move from the doorway, “shoot, I never seen you like. I never imagined you so down. I wish I could do something to cheer you up.”

“You’ve done enough,” you insist. “Really. I mean, if I can’t get out of here quick enough, there’s a shelter--”

“A shelter? No, no, you stay here as long as you need to,” he shows his palms. “Oh, wait, I got an idea. Something to distract you, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you drone.

“Tell me you’re not tired of wearing my handmedowns,” he tugs on the borrowed pullover and you shy away.

“Better than nothing,” you say.

“Right, well, I like that about you, tootsie roll. Easy to please, but you gotta start knowing your worth. You deserve better. So how about it, we can go for a shopping spree?”

You blink at him. “Lloyd, I can’t. I don’t--”

“Merry Christmas. Consider it my gift to you.”

“Christmas...”

“Nothing wrong with an early present,” he smirks. “Come on.”

“But... I can’t pay you back. I can’t even get you a gift.” You deflate, “without my laptop, I don’t even have a job.”

“Add that to the list,” he ticks the air with his finger. “Your gift to me will be coming with me. So, let’s go.”

You stare at him. You can’t say no. Not after everything. He’s all you have left and he’s so nice. That man you saw shouting in a sandwich shop turned out to be so much different than you expected. For once, a bad thing ended up better.

“Right, sure. Let’s go hit a Walmart,” you force a smile. It’s less than genuine. It hurts your cheeks and your heart. Your eyes sting.

“Walmart? Pfft, forget that noise,” he grabs onto your wrist and pulls you through the doorway. “Coat, boots, tie em up tight. We’re gonna be doing a lot of walking.”

❄️

You rub your hands together as you cross the lot towards the mall. As you near the doors, the glass reflects you. You see yourself next to Lloyd. You see how much you don’t belong, not just him, but there.

As always, his hair is perfect quaffed. Combed neatly with the sides trimmed close. And he wears a stylish coat, not a practical one. His leather boots give him little traction and he grabs your shoulder as he slips on a patch of ice.

“Woah, you okay?” You grab his elbow to steady him. You’re not much help.

“Good,” he snorts. “Got you to hold me up.”

You scoff, “whatever.”

“Almost got you,” he teases.

“Almost got me what?” You wonder.

“Smiling. For real this time,” he says. “I’ll get there.”

He reaches for the door and opens it for you. You thank him as you step through. It feels overly polite, especially for him. He follows you inside and the warmth trapped in the crowded mall hits you like as wall. Your shivering is quickly replaced with a sheen of sweat.

You remove your gloves, then your hat. The only things you have that are yours are your outerwear; only what you wore on that horrible night. You sniff and look around. The other shoppers gab and giggle and you just want to melt onto the floor with the thawed snow.

“Oh, first thing’s first, lattes,” Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you towards the open front of the cafe.

“Lloyd.”

“Look, they have a candy cane one. Gotta try it. Tis the season, right?”

“That’s nice, but really, it’s fine. We should just get what we need,” you say.

“We need lattes,” he insists as he stops in the queue.

“Alright,” you surrender. You’re not going to argue. You have no place to. He's doing something nice, you shouldn’t be such a dark cloud.

The cafe is as busy as the rest of the place. You’re not surprised. It’s that time of year. There’s jingling music, bright signs declaring outrageous sales, and tinsel all around.

Lloyd clucks, “jeez, sure taking their time.”

“It’s packed,” you say softly. “Gotta be patient, I guess.”

“Mm, guess you’re right.” He taps his toe and puts his hands on his hips.

You glance over at him as he stares over the heads of the girls in front of you. They narrow as he watches the barista chatter to a coworker as she refills the whipped cream dispenser. He sighs. For a moment, you see the man you first met in that shop, yelling about a wrap.

“Would be fast if they stopped yapping,” he mutters under his breath.

“Lloyd,” you chide gently, “if it’s too much of a wait, we can skip it.”

“No, I want a latte. You need a latte. You deserve one,” he snips. “You should be spoiled, tootsie. You’ve lost so much, you should get one thing you want.”

It hits you like a slap. ‘Lost so much...’ If only he knew how much. Like really knew how much it hurts. You lower your chin and shudder out a breath. You’re dizzy from all the people and the noise and the smell of cinnamon.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I sit down?” You ask breathily.

“Yeah, that’s fine, but... are you okay?” His forehead lines with concern.

“It’s... yeah, just realise I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“No? I told you to help yourself.” He arches a brow.

“Yeah, I just forgot. Lot on my mind,” you nod and look away. “I see a table in the corner. I just need to rest my legs.”

“Sure, sweetie,” he reaches and runs his hand down your arm, a gesture that surprises you.

You watch his touch fall past your sleeve and you cautiously back away. He turns his attention back to the counter and his throat bobs as he moves forward with the line. You retreat and claim the small table in the corner.

It isn’t just the crowd or the music or the cheer, it’s that he’s not there. Your dad isn’t there. You might not be alone and you owe Lloyd that but you are in agony. You just want him back.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #drabble #just one reason #the gray man

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icyharrington · 2 years ago

Text

So I Can Get Mine, And You Get Yours (Eddie Munson X Reader)

hayyy so for some reason this fic took me like a million years to write even though it’s short ??? idek lmaoo but anyways this shit is finally done !!! i hope y’all like, once i’m done with this im gonna go back to working on some requests and stuff in my inbox!! and feel free to send any ideas u might have uwu

description: after your weed stash is discovered and confiscated by your parents, you’re desperate for a re-up but are unwilling to spend the extra cash. lucky for you though, eddie munson is willing to work out a deal.

contains: sexual tension, dom!eddie, drug mentions, stoner reader lmao, blowjobs, deepthroating/face fucking, dirty talk, eddie is a slightly perverted yet charming asshole, tha reader sucks dick for weed lmao

wc: 5.1k

tagging: @jargotquinn @wordsaretheonlyescape @ankokubunka @rottnteen @msunravelled @animesnowstorm @send-me-a-cryptid @itsanithemenace @lenora91 @mxh0neylol @reddesert-healourblues @capricornrisingsstuff @i-me-mine @somnobun @harrystylesplschokeme @harringtonfan4 @bimbobaggins69 @sarahgarlic @xxlilyxx90 @daddy-long-legolas @virgovixen89 @manicpixieautismgirl @hahahafucku @stephanie-nicks76 @f-me-reid @winterton-reads @dixontardis @kleinegamerin @bbellee @bohemianrhapsody86 @for-hearthand-home

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my most valued and reliable customer,” Eddie Munson says with an evil grin as the front door of his trailer swings open. He reclines against the doorframe, eyebrows raising in amusement at the sight of you standing there in front of him.

You’re situated on his porch, huddling your arms together beneath your baggy coat as you shiver in the mid-autumn chill. Narrowing your eyeliner-smeared eyes into a glare, you shove your way past him into the gentle warmth of his home.

“Shut up,” you say irritably, which makes Eddie throw his hands up like he’s at gunpoint.

“Just come right in, I guess!” he exclaims, slamming the door shut in your wake to keep out the cold air. Unfazed, you throw yourself back onto the living room couch, ignoring the look of utter annoyance that stretches itself across Eddie’s angular features when you do. “Now that you’re nice and comfy, what the hell do you need?”

As if the chip on his shoulder is unjustified, you let out an offended scoff. Stalling at his question, you will yourself to break contact with Eddie’s gaze. “…Weed.”

Eddie folds his arms in front of his chest, staring you down; he’s wearing a leather jacket with his Hellfire tee underneath, paired with gray-black jeans and combat boots. With the shitty yellow glow of his trailer surrounding him ominously as he looks down on you with near-black eyes, he almost appears intimidating, but in all honesty, you’d be more afraid of a golden retriever than of Eddie Munson in most situations. He likes to play himself off like he’s some kind of unpredictable bad boy, dealing drugs after school and wreaking havoc in the hallways by way of his wild antics, but you’re not stupid, unlike most of the other Hawkins high attendees.

You’ve been regularly buying weed from Eddie for a few months now; once a week you’ll meet him under the staircase at school to purchase a half-ounce, occasionally sticking around for some idle conversation.

He always struck you as a lonely kind of guy- somebody with a lot to say, but nobody to say it to. You’d nod along as he rambled on about his band, or the assholes at school he hated, or Dungeons and Dragons, which you would pretend to understand just to humor him. He was a nice, if not slightly geeky and eccentric dude, and you could never quite understand the fear your classmates harbored for him.

“Ouch, (y/n). And here I was thinking you just wanted to spend some time basking in my presence.” He shakes his head with a click of his tongue, his face contorting into an exaggerated display of devastation. “What the hell happened to the shit I sold you this morning?”

You grit your teeth into a wince, reminded directly of the cause for your bad mood. Flailing back dramatically against the throw pillows beneath you, you flash Eddie a helpless look. “God, don’t even get me started, Eddie.”

“The cops didn’t catch you, did they?” He knits his brows, voice dropping to a concerned whisper as his spindly frame hunches over you. “You didn’t rat me out, did you? My uncle will be so fuckin’ pissed if our trailer gets raided.”

“No. Worse,” you say flatly, stifling a giggle when his dark eyes expand cartoonishly with alarm. “My mom found it.”

You’d made the mistake of tossing the baggie of weed in your sock drawer before heading to your evening shift at the record store, only for your mom to come across it while putting away laundry that evening; when you’d arrived back home later in the night, you found your mother, red-faced and teary, sitting at the kitchen table across from a box of Kleenex and your stash. Blubbering endlessly about life paths and bad influences, any outsider would have assumed she’d caught you lighting a crack pipe redhanded.

He lets out a prolonged exhale in a combination of relief and exasperation, shaking his head at you like a disappointed parent. “And how exactly is that worse?”

“You haven’t met my mom.” You reposition yourself on the couch, sitting upright and crossing your legs in favor of a less unhinged approach. “She’s gonna be on my ass until the end of time now.”

“Sorry, I’m still having trouble seeing how that’s worse than getting raided by the police,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes as he starts towards the hallway, where you assume his bedroom is located. “So what do you want? Another half?”

“That’d be nice,” you say, chewing your lip apprehensively. You decide not to say anything else until he returns with what you want, spreading your hands out on your knees and drumming your fingers restlessly.

You wouldn’t consider yourself a stoner, though you’ve been smoking daily since your sophomore year of high school, after befriending a few punk-obsessed senior kids who introduced you to it; at this point you’re probably semi-dependent on the naturally occurring substance, but you can’t bring yourself to stop- you love the way it makes you feel, all cozy and content, your cheeks aching from smiling at every damn thing you cross paths with.

You know it’s mildly pathetic to have walked all the way to the trailer park after midnight with the sole intent of replenishing your confiscated stash, but you hate the thought of spending a weekend without any weed.

On second thought, maybe you are a stoner.

When Eddie emerges from his bedroom, he’s carrying a twisted-up Ziploc bag, a telltale earthy green shade visible through the transparent plastic. He swings it back and forth as he approaches you in the living room, humming something off-key to go along with his needlessly jaunty strides. “Should I even sell this to you? Kind of a waste to sell if mommy’s just gonna add it with the other contraband.”

“Hey!” You feel your cheeks burn in response to his teasing, which is embarrassing enough of a reaction in itself- why do you care what Eddie Munson thinks, anyway? “She isn’t going to find it this time.”

He examines the bag thoughtfully, holding it above his head so that it catches in the room’s sallow lighting. “I dunno, (y/n). I dunno.”

Eddie’s doing what he does best: putting on a show, and you don’t know if he’s merely acting on his ever-present impulse to behave idiotically, or if he’s purposefully being an asshole- either way, you can feel your patience gradually depleting by the second. “Eddie, seriously- don’t be a dick. I walked all the way here.”

“That was your idea!” he exclaims, visibly dumbfounded by the audacity of your demeanor. “What if I was all out, huh? Then you’d be shit out of luck, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, good thing you’re not,” you say defiantly, extending a hand in between the two of you with an obnoxious grabbing motion. He’s starting to really get on your nerves now, though you assume it’s intended. “Just give it to me, Eddie.”

He acts like he’s going to hand you the bag before he abruptly retreats his arm to loop behind his back, shoving it into his back pocket. “Not so fast. I want my ten dollars.”

Glancing down at your palms in an attempt to avoid Eddie’s expectant stare, you fidget uncomfortably in your seat, before blurting out, “Yeah, could I maybe get it for free? Just this once?”

Eddie lowers his chin towards his chest, his eyebrows raising in disbelief; you force yourself not to look at him, knowing fully well that you’re making a complete ass of yourself right now. “Sorry, I don’t think I quite got that. Did you say free?”

Fuck. Out of all the people you figured you could get free weed from, Eddie seemed the most likely to oblige, but obviously you’d misjudged him. Maybe you do need to cut back on the Mary Jane, because damn- you’re really starting to act like a corner-store crackhead. You’re growing increasingly more embarrassed with every moment Eddie’s dark eyes remain fixed on you, but you’ve already made the journey, so really, there’s no point in backing down now. “Well, yeah. I mean, I didn’t even end up smoking the other shit I bought. My mom probably threw it in the trash.”

Eddie laughs, though you get the impression he’s doing it at you, rather than with you. “Do you think drug dealers come with fuckin’ insurance or something?”

You stifle a frustrated groan, fully realizing the stupidity of your request now that you’re being called out. Still, you refuse to let him catch on to your self-awareness, choosing instead to double down on your argument. “C’mon, Eddie. I only make three-fifteen an hour and I already spent half my paycheck on cassettes.”

“Well, damn, (y/n)! Learn to manage your finances better, then!” He speaks with a lighthearted tone, but his body language communicates a prominent irritation, his arms crossed firmly over his slender midsection. “If I give you weed for free, then I’m going to lose money, and I’m already strapped for cash. Plus, if word got out that I gave you a freebie- I’d have a whole line of desperate potheads begging outside my door instead of just one.”

You gasp at the bluntness of his remark, huffing out when you can’t think of anything clever to come back with. “I wouldn’t tell anyone you gave it to me for free. I swear.”

“Like I said- I’m too broke to be giving away goddamn goody bags,” Eddie snaps, angling his head to glance not-so-subtly at the front door, before flashing back to assess your flushed face. “I know you probably thought I’d cave at the sight of a pretty girl at my doorstep since I’m a freak who gets no female attention and all that, but I’m sorry to tell you that I actually run my business with integrity.”

The whole of Eddie’s statement blindsides you, and you find yourself blinking wildly as your mind races to process it; he’d just called you pretty, to your face, as matter-of-fact as reciting the alphabet. You can only pray that your complexion doesn’t redden too drastically as you feel your cheeks prickle and flush, but you somehow carry on, feigning indifference to the best of your ability. “You’re a drug dealer, dude. I don’t think there’s any way you can do that with integrity.”

“You can think whatever you like, sweetheart,” Eddie says as he taps your shoulder twice, signaling you to get up, which you do, albeit reluctantly. Once you’re back on your feet, you’re reminded of your height difference, though it had never really crossed your mind in the past; perhaps it’s your close proximity to him that makes it seem so much more conspicuous now, with Eddie looking down on you- literally- from mere inches away. “My answer is still absolutely fuckin’ not.”

“It’s just ten dollars worth of weed!” you yell, not unlike a child being denied a balloon in a grocery store.

“If it’s just ten dollars, why can’t you pay me, huh?”

He bows his head so that his dark, frizzy hair curtains either side of his angular face, shrugging nonchalantly, despite the pride that you can see gleaming within the mischievous blackness of his eyes. Check-fucking-mate.

It dawns on you that you’re probably just going to have to accept not getting your way, and you pout, giving up on trying to convince him. “Because I’m broke.”

“Well, so am I!” He looks at you like you’re out of your mind, and you can almost agree with him, though you’d never say so out loud. During the resulting lapse of awkward silence, you can see him start to ponder something, his mouth screwing up in earnest thought until his tone eventually shifts.“Y’know, if you showed up at any other dealer’s house at this time of night with no money, they’d probably think you were coming to fuck them for drugs.”

Your mouth drops open, and for once, you’re genuinely speechless. The worst part, however, is that he has a valid point- you really are acting like someone trying to whore themselves out for drugs, aren’t you?

“Oh, come on, (y/n). Don’t look at me like you have no idea what I’m talking about.” He chuckles, his eyes dropping to briefly scan you over. You’re not wearing anything scandalous, despite the self-consciousness that floods your body as he surveys you- just your thrifted jeans and an oversize corduroy jacket, hardly the appropriate attire for drug prostitution.

“Um, ew?” you manage to retort, stepping backwards until your calves are pressed up against the couch. There isn’t much space available for you to create any meaningful distance between the two of you, so you’ll just have to settle for the time being. “I totally did not come here to fuck you for weed, you pervert.”

“Oh, so I’m a pervert now for pointing out the obvious,” Eddie says, his hands splaying out theatrically in front of him. “I’m just saying what it looks like, not that I want you to! Jeez!”

You scoff without really thinking, insulted. “Oh, so if I did offer you something in return, you’re saying you’d turn me down?”

Eddie just looks at you with a perplexed expression, before his lips twitch upwards at the corners, giving way to a self-assured smirk. There’s a devious glint in his eyes that you’re not familiar with, and when you peer back up at him, your body inadvertently shifts and squirms. “Not necessarily.”

You attempt to back away but can’t, seeing that you’re cornered up against the couch with nowhere to go. The air is somehow thicker now, more tense, and there’s an invisible hum of electricity that gnaws at your fingertips; it’s like you’re frozen, your limbs stiff and unresponsive, and you gulp, hyper-aware of the sudden tilt in atmosphere.

Eddie’s smirk intensifies as he witnesses your bad attitude slip away, your disposition no longer bold, but trembling and timid. “I don’t normally accept trade offers in the form of sexual favors, but hey, maybe if you ask really nicely, I’ll consider it.”

“Fuck you.” The words come out immediately, desperate to mask your humiliation with some sort of vitriolic statement, but the effect isn’t what you were hoping for; your voice shakes weakly, and there’s no punch to it, no bite to let him know who he’s messing with. “I would never fuck you, for weed or any other reason. You’re creepy and a freak.”

You’re a bit guilty for getting so nasty with him, but at this point you’ll do anything to prevent your pride from enduring any more blows. Eddie just poises a brow skeptically, cocking his head to one side. “Yeah, I’m so much of a creep that you felt safe coming to my house in the middle of the night to beg for pot, isn’t that right?”

“I wasn’t fucking begging you!” You stomp your foot to accentuate your point, though it just comes off like you’re throwing a tantrum.

“Right- you were just asking persistently, then,” Eddie quips, growing more smug with each second that passes while you cower. “You’re reaaaallllly digging a hole for yourself right now, aren’tcha, sweetheart?”

“Whatever,” you say flatly, finally gathering the courage to step out of Eddie’s way, awkward in your movements as you shuffle toward the front door. “A simple no would’ve sufficed, but I guess being a douchebag works too.”

You’re taken aback when he stops you, his long, jewelry-clad fingers wrapping loosely around your upper arm. There’s a friendlier appearance about him now, and you figure he’s trying to ease up on the intimidation. “Hey, c’mon! I didn’t tell you no, remember? I just said you’d have to ask me nicely.”

You jerk your arm back, scowling, even though your heartbeat inexplicably quickens when he touches you. “Yeah, you said that about me fucking you for weed, and that’s not happening.”

“Why’re you so shy all of a sudden, huh?” he asks, moving beside you to snake an arm around your shoulders. You can smell the cigarette smoke that clings to the inky leather of his jacket as you catch yourself inhaling deeply, and this time, you don’t pull away. “You’re saying you don’t want this?”

He retrieves the half-ounce of weed from his pocket, dangling it above your head like bait. Eddie’s weed isn’t even that good- there’s more seeds and stems than actual flower, and you have to smoke a whole joint’s worth to even feel anything, but damn, do you want it. There’s just something special about his supply, something that caused you to stop buying from all the other dealers in Hawkins and focus your business loyalty solely on him. You give the weed a purposefully-indifferent side-eye, commenting, “What happened to you being too broke to give away free shit?”

“See, hon, it isn’t actually free if I get something in return.” He leans closer to speak directly into your ear, giving you goosebumps when he uses one hand to sweep your hair out of the way. “I like you, (y/n). Like I said- you’re a valued customer. That’s why I’d be willing to work out a deal for you.”

He talks like a Wall Street broker closing in on a deal, which you’d probably laugh at, if you weren’t so fucking nervous. You don’t know what to make of the events that unfold before you like a scene in a bad porno, but you still have a hard time believing that Eddie Munson is actually trying to seduce you right now; part of you wonders if he’s putting on a show in an attempt to teach you a lesson for intruding on his space. “I already told you, Eddie. I didn’t come here to fuck you.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re too good for all of that trashy nonsense,” he deadpans, rubbing your shoulder in circles with his callused palm. “Pretty girls like you should never give more than a blowjob for some Mary Jane. Right, princess?”

It’s like you’ve just taken a blow to the stomach, with the way his words knock the wind out of you; you quickly turn your head to hide the unmistakeable rosiness that blooms across your cheeks, although the effort is futile. “I- I didn’t say that.”

“C’mon, babe. You really think I believe that you came all the way here just to ask me for a little favor?” He gives your shoulder a condescending pat, chuckling at your efforts to evade him. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Had you known what you were doing, at least in your subconscious? It wasn’t like you’d put much thought into your plan before carrying it out, but what if there was an ulterior motive you weren’t even aware of? Are you really so disconnected from yourself that you’d be this clueless to your own intentions?

The way your body reacts to his closeness, however, tells you that Eddie “the freak” Munson has a profound affect on you, perhaps on a far deeper level than you know.

“Sure, if that’s what you wanna believe,” you say dismissively as you place one hand on your hip, regaining a bit of your cool exterior to scan his face over in search of any sign that he’s fucking with you. He appears entertained by your flustered state, but there’s also an earnest look behind his dark eyes, signaling to you that he’s down if you’re down. “But if you wanted me to blow you in exchange for the weed, you could’ve just asked.”

“You’re the one who’s gonna need to ask me, sweetheart. I’m giving you a pretty good deal, don’t ya think?” He bats his lashes mockingly at you, apparently in the mood to drag this little power play out for as long as possible; you can tell it’s turning him on, just from how quick and sharp his breathing is becoming.

As much as you hate yourself for it, you’re turned on, too, with an aching warmth making itself known between your shifting legs; logically, you know you should be ashamed for partaking in such a degrading activity, but physically? Well, that’s a different story altogether.

“Fine, if it helps boost your ego,” you mutter, shocked with yourself for even retaining the ability to speak. You try to keep your words straightforward and unemotional, managing an even “can I blow you for weed, Eddie?”

He looks at you like you’re stupid, letting go of his hold around your shoulder as he drops to sit down on the couch. “I, uh, think you might’ve forgotten something there, (y/n).”

Rolling your eyes, you watch as he unbuckles his belt noisily, leaning back against the throw pillows expectantly. He’s really having fun with this, isn’t he?

“Can I please blow you for weed?” you say through a pained wince, causing a triumphant grin to spread across his face as he continues to undo the front of his pants. Your question is ridiculous, pathetic even, but it’s music to his ears, his head falling back to let out a whoop of obnoxious laughter.

By now, you’re almost positive that this treatment is payback for calling him a freak, and while you probably deserve it, you can’t help but resent him for being an asshole anyway.

“See? Now, was that so fuckin’ difficult?” Eddie chides, eyeing you expectantly as he pulls his jeans and boxers partly down his thighs, exposing himself to you. He’s almost fully hard, and it’s evident that he’s packing a lot more than you ever would’ve guessed, with his thick, flushed length curving gently to one side. You sink onto the floor in front of him, wedging your way between his parted knees so that you’re face-to-face with his hefty dick, which is big enough that you’re actually intimidated by it. “Well, I guess since I’m in such a good mood, I’ll allow it. ”

He puts the bag of weed on the couch next to him, to provide with a good view of what you’re sucking him off for.

“You’re such an asshole,” you murmur, getting into a position where your mouth can reach him. You pretend to be fixated by the view of your own fingers taking hold of his cock, refusing to find out what sort of cocky expression is painted across his angled features.

“Yeah, yeah. I can act however I want,” he says while winding his fingers through your (h/c) hair, not implementing any real force to his grip just yet. “My house, my weed, my rules.”

“Whatever you say, dungeon master,” you say wryly, winking at him as you permit some saliva to dribble from your mouth and onto his cock, which twitches in response to your tongue-in-cheek nickname. You close your mouth around his leaking tip and suck on it lazily, your eyes heavy-lidded as they look up to drink in his admittedly pretty features.

“Yeah, that’s a good fuckin’ girl. You gotta earn it,” he encourages, his hand settling on the back of your head, still entwined with your hair. “D’you do this with all the dealers? Huh?”

You glare up at him resentfully, dipping your head to take him further into your mouth, his skin smooth and salty as you run your tongue along one of his prominent blue-green veins.

Taking advantage of the fact that he has a tight grasp on you, Eddie pushes your head down all the way until you’re gagging on him, causing you to move your hands to splay over his thighs; after a brief moment admiring you as you squirm, he moves you back several inches in a gesture of mercy. “Fuck. Yeah, you want it bad, don’t you? Fucking burnout slut.”

The harshness of his tone causes your head to spin, your panties soaked completely through; you’re sure he can sense how much you like it, because he jerks your head back down until your face is nearly flush with his pelvis once again.

“Must’ve smoked all your brain cells away if you thought you could pull one over on me,” he continues, and although you can’t see his face, you can practically hear the smirk within his voice. He lets up, allowing you the opportunity to bob your head freely up and down his thick cock, sputtering and drooling as you do so.

Hissing, he administers a sharp tug to your scalp, resting his head back as you explore him with your hot, needy mouth; his jaw is unhinged, giving way to a string of profane grunts, hips rocking up beneath you to make contact with the back of your narrow throat.

“Fuck, babe. Yeah, that’s it.” He uses your hair as reigns, guiding your motions to better suit his liking. You’re rendered temporarily speechless, your only sounds being the crude wet noise of your mouth being filled and fucked. “Goddamn, your mouth feels so fuckin’ good.”

The sound of his praise only fuels your avid movements, your fingernails digging through the denim of his jeans, clinging helplessly to him. You purr when he affectionately strokes you from your forehead to the base of your skull, the heavy metal of his rings assisting to cool your feverish skin. “Fuuuck, (y/n). Keep going.”

Doing as he says, you make an effort to take his cock all the way into your throat, peering up from underneath a veil of mascara-coated eyelashes. Eddie’s eyes are closed as he’s enveloped in your inflicted ecstasy, but they flutter open momentarily to meet yours, giving you a goofy half-smile when he notices you. He only abandons his douchey persona for a lapse before swiftly getting back into character, bucking his hips up fiercely into your mouth.

He rolls himself on your face, relishing in the sounds you make, the vibrations reverberating throughout his bottom half. You focus on taking your air in through your nose, ushering shallow gulps of oxygen that are only effective in keeping you from passing out.

“Gotta swallow it all if you really wanna earn it,” he groans, voice hoarse and gravelly. “You gonna do that for me, princess?”

He yanks your head off of his length, and you cough as spit strings rudely from your swollen lips, tears spilling out from the corners of your eyes. He waits for your composure to return, pursing his lips impatiently until you’re done wheezing.

“Yes, Eddie,” you say weakly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, completely forgetting that you’re wearing dark mascara (not that you looked any more polished beforehand). He basks in your disheveled appearance, petting your cheek and using his thumb to rid your face of tears, seeming drunk off the sight of you.

“Good girl.” He stands up from his spot on the couch, bringing you into an upright kneeling position by the root of your hair. Obediently, you open your mouth up for him, lolling your head back so he can slide himself deep. “Gonna make me- fuck- cum so hard, baby.”

You go limp as he fucks your face, enjoying the defenseless sensation of being used so carelessly. The arousal is loud and unrelenting as it burns through your core, your thighs squeezing together, needing friction. God, why the fuck had you only offered to blow him?

Eddie’s stomach flexes beneath the cotton of his shirt, and you know he’s about to climax, his head tilted back to fixate on the chipped ceiling. “Shit. Open your mouth.”

Once again, you’re taken off of his cock, which he angles above you, one hand working at his glistening length while the other holds you still.

It only takes a few more strokes before he’s releasing his hot cum into your waiting mouth, adorning the back of your throat with heavy ropes of white. Just like you promised, you swallow it all down with a slutty grin, licking your lips as you shrug your shoulders coyly.

“Holy fuck. Never woulda guessed that (y/n) (y/l/n) is a fuckin’ whore,” he laughs breathlessly, tucking himself back into his boxers and buttoning his jeans. He motions with his head to the half-ounce that still sits untouched on his couch, his fingers hastily buckling up his sturdy black belt. “That’s all yours, babe. I think you earned it.”

“Glad you think so,” you say with a sardonic raise of your brows, snatching up your prize and stuffing it into the inner pocket of your jacket like he might change his mind at any second. “So I guess this is when you tell me to get the fuck out?”

Eddie double-checks that is buckle is properly secured before squinting at you incredulously, seemingly put off by your suggestion. “Are you fuckin’ crazy? You think I’m gonna send you walking off into the night for any hillbilly with a van to snatch you off the side of the road?”

“Eddie, you are a hillbilly with a van.” You fold your arms in front of your chest, somewhat bashful at his sudden protectiveness.

“I am not a goddamn hillbilly, (y/n),” he protests, patting himself down until he hears the faint jingle of his keys from his coat pocket. “Y’know, I could always take my offer back if you’re going to be ungrateful.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” You hug your jacket tighter around you, a challenging expression situating itself over your features as you fight to stand your ground. “What, you think I’m your little slut now or something? I don’t need you to protect me, Eddie. This was a one time thing.”

“No, stupid,” he says as he slides his ring of keys into view. “It’s called not wanting to find your missing poster plastered all around town tomorrow morning. I’d be a piece of shit to let you go, blowjob or otherwise.”

“Whatever,” you mutter bitterly, tucking your hands into the corduroy material of your oversize jacket. “Just remember that this isn’t happening again.”

“Which part? You blowing me for weed, or just hanging out with me at my trailer?” He slips his hand around your waist as he walks you to the door, a hopeful ring to his words.

You stifle a grin, leaning into his shoulder unintentionally. “I’d hardly call what just happened hanging out.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe we can some time, yeah?”

It’s difficult to ignore the way your insides twist, your heart thundering wildly into your ribcage, threatening to break loose. Eddie Munson has successfully charmed you, a feat you never would have thought possible until now, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it just yet.

Curving your lips into an inhibited smirk, you blink at him sweetly. “Yeah. Maybe.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #mine #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 3 months ago

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A bag of choice (tm)

Mal - she continuously causes Evie heart attacks by refusing to use any and all designer bags and even just the decent looking ones she gives her and using the same tattered old tote bag she found and improved when she was thirteen.

Evie - you know she has at least one from any occasion, and we love that for her.

Jay - pockets. Does he lose half the groceries he was supposed to buy? No, absolutely not, these items were never written down in the first place.

Carlos - I feel like his cousins suceeded in getting him reasonable bags. Criticism will NOT be accepted by any of the de Vils and also that thing somehow fits an entire toolbag.

Ben - ...auradon royal family merch :( he hates it :( (Mal quickly improved it for him. He loves that version to bits and his parents despise it just as much.)

Audrey - a small shiny clutch that fits barely a phone, a credit card, and lipgloss. Y'know, the essentials.

Chad - nope. No. He doesn't even bother to use his pockets, he loses his stuff all the time. Just. Puts it down and that's it.

Jane - very cute and very practical backpack with a little ribbon <3 and lot of cute added charms <3 we love our practical girlie <3

Lonnie - hmm. Probably a sports bag or backpack of choice. Secret compartments for reasons that are definitely NOT "war-induced generational paranoia".

Btw ALL VK bags have secret compartments, just so you know.

Uma - first of all, Uma rarely ever carries her own shit. Harry and Gil are being gentlemans and the rest of the crew is lowkey afraid for their own life if Harry saw that they let the Captain carry heavy things . Second of all, she got the crew tote bags with Lost Revenge logo.

Harry - ...yeah he forgets that bag all the time. That's fine tho, he has like not normal amount of pockets.

Gil - the crew logo bag but Claudine embroidered more decorations on it for him.

Claudine - she doesn't have vibes for a bag, okay? She can carry everything she needs without it. (...yeah, she doesn't carry ANY of the stuff most people do. Phone? Devil's machine. Keys? There's always people to let her in. Money? Ivy has those. Or Uma, or Harriet, or Gil. Someone will pay for her.)

Ivy - either a designer bag that SOMEHOW fits an entire bottle of whiskey, or she goes out without any means to carry anything, including pockets, cos designers hate women. She has cigarettes behind her ears, phone, money, and emotional support lipstick in her bra, keys strung on dress strap, and she keeps playing with the lighter. Flickering it on in a completely non-threatening way.

Diego - okay, all de Vil cousins deserve designer handbags. His prefered one is dark leather.

Anthony - he has a collection of bags he got as gifts. Dark leather one from Diego, crocheted one that Dulcia made when bedbound and refused to use, a bunch of bags decorated by his little cousins withvarious amount of sucess and glitter.

Dulcia - she also has a collection. Some designer ones that Audrey got bored of and passed to her through Anthony (displeased at having to play messenger), and lot of bags decorated by her little family members. Also a... Contraption gifted to her by the Hearts kids, she slightly afraid to touch it.

Dizzy - you know that thing is bedazzled enought to blind someone (affectionate)

Celia - you know, this little shadow witch manages without a bag just fine, it's like magic.

Freddie - not sure, either a cute hand-decorated tote, or whatever shiny thing CJ stole for her.

CJ - nope. She has slightly better record of losing shit than Chad, because she has shit ton of pockets in her coat, no reservations about sticking shit into her bra if she needs to, and slightly exasperated Freddie picking the stuff of value that she dropoed after her.

Harriet - it goes about like so: *already paying at the counter, realising she cannot carry all that shit with sheer power of will and hubris:* „...hey, Sam? Do you have a bag?“ (they always do)

Ginny - lol, a crocheted one from Dulcia that she complains about all the time but won't ditch. (She has sewed-on compartments for the actually important stuff on her clothes also)

#disney descendants #gonna add Rise of Red edition to the reblogs

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multi-fandom-friend · 11 months ago

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“Let’s do something fun, yeah?” “Like what?” “Let’s go to a rave” “You’re Joking”

COME GET YOUR FOOD UOU SIMPS. so I got this idea from an artist named @razorsystem on here. They had art of Jason and crew in rave outfits, and being a part of rave culture myself, and the little voice in my brain annoying me until I wrote this, this now exists. Enjoy loves! TW FOR FLASHING LIGHTS AND BRIGHT COLORS ON THE DIVIDER AND FOR THEMES OF DRINKING AND BIG CROWDS

🦇Bruce🦇

🦇 when you first asked him to go? It went a little like this

🦇 “Hey Brucie?” “Jesus, I know that tone. You want something.” “Can we pleaaaase go to a rave?” “Absolutely not” “why?” “I’m too old for that. Drinking? Dancing? Flashing lights? Not my thing.” 🦇 you being you? You convinced him. And he got outfits. Pretty expensive ones too but he’s a hot millionaire what did you expect?

🦇 Once you got there he was a little uncomfortable but once he had a drink and started dancing with you? He was fine. He kept his guard up, of course, but he was fine. 🦇 on your way home he stopped and made you two get pizza and everyone in the pizzeria was looking at you two. A 6 something foot tall scary dad aged man and his partner sticking onto his arm as they giggled together in a bright colored rave outfit

🥀Jason Todd🥀

🥀 when you first asked him he was so confused as to what a rave even was

🥀 “Hey Jaybird?” “Yes, love?” “There’s a rave tonight, wanna go?” “What the hell is a rave?” “What’s a— Jason? How have you never heard of a rave? It’s basically a party with a bunch of bright colors, lots of loud music with even more bass in it, and good vibes. Wanna go?” “Will there be lots of people” “…..yeah?” “I dunno. Maybe.” 🥀 Just like his dad he’s hesitant, but he goes eventually. He probably had more fun than you did if we’re being honest. 🥀 y’all got there and he was having the time of his fucking life. And he didn’t wanna tell you but he loved the outfits you two were wearing, but he hated the thigh high latex boots with a small heel that you made him wear. It’s not that they were “too girly” or anything because he doesn’t think clothes have gender he just didn’t entirely understand how to walk without looking like he had a pole up his ass, so you had to teach him. 🥀 once he got the walking down pat, he could dance with you. He didn’t wanna drink because he still had to keep his guard up and walking in these shoes are hard enough sober just in case. 🥀 he made you two leave a little early but you had fun nonetheless. He ordered takeout and you picked it up on the way home.

💎Dickhead Grayson💎

💎 Immediately said yes.

💎 “Hey bluejay? Wanna go to a rave toni-“ “yes. A thousand times yes.” 💎 and then he showed you a photo of him at a rave when he was younger. 💎 You couldn’t believe your eyes. Your Bluejay in short shorts, a latex shirt and leather harness with platform boots and glitter coating his body was in that photo. 💎 then he got dressed and jesus fuckin Christ he looked awesome. Glittery, but awesome. He helped you get dressed and then sprayed you down with iridescent glitter spray that got in your mouth and everywhere glitter probably shouldn’t be

💎 once you got there, he grabbed drinks for you both and started dancing with you immediately. He had so much fun

💎 he still made you both leave early, just for safety reasons. 💎 he also got pizza with you and you two were standing there like two giddy hyenas. Like seriously. You both couldn’t stop laughing for a good 25 minutes.

🐍 Damian Wayne🐍

🐍 it took so much convincing and so much prodding but you got him to break. 🐍 “But Damieeeee!” “No.” “Come on! I promise you’ll have fun!” “Nope.” “Pleaaaase?” 🐍 you did your pouty face and he broke. 🐍 he got his dad to buy you both outfits and you went

🐍 hated how many people there were. Hated it. So much. But you started dancing with him and he calmed down instantly

🐍 you both left after about an hour and went home, he needed a good pair of very loose sweatpants and a very loose shirt, and a good long cuddle session and he was all better.

A/N hi y’all! If you could follow me or even like this post that would be highly appreciated. Thank you!

#batfam #damian wayne #jason todd x reader #damian wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #batfam headcanons

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strayheartless · 9 months ago

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friendship bracelets:

Zack makes them, obviously, because he’s a sentimental dork, and in Gongaga it’s considered a sign of great affection to give someone something like jewellery. I like to think there’s a Gongagan tradition/ holiday a bit like Valentine’s Day but it’s for showing appreciation to everyone. And on this day people swap hand made jewellery to signify their respect and love for a person.

Mostly Gongagan kids swap them, and it’s a big thing in school, but Adults do also observe the day with those closest to them -or someone who has done them a great service through the year!

Zack hasn’t really observed the holiday since he left home, but when he finally becomes FIRST he gets kind of sentimental and homesick for some reason. So he buys a bracelet making kit from a craft store and makes a bunch of bracelets for his fellow firsts and Cloud and Kunsel, he makes one for Aerith too!

Giving them to Kunsel is pretty easy. They’ve been friends for years and have talked a lot about Gongagan holidays before. Kunsel is pretty touched actually, and hugs Zack. It’s a nice little moment between them. Quality brotherly affection. Hense the reason the word “brother” is stamped on the bracelet.

Giving Cloud his is funny only because Cloud goes bright red in the face and stutters through accepting it. Zacks pretty smug throughout the entire encounter about making Cloud blush like that. But he’s also incredibly emotional when Cloud turns up at 12:00 PM the same night and pushes a bracelet into Zack’s hand. Zack hadn’t known what to stamp on Clouds “best friend” seemed too weak and and anything more then that felt presumptuous to the point of impertinence, considering he was still battling with how he felt about Cloud. In the end he’d gone with “legacy” which felt like a cop out but Cloud seemed to like it.

It’s only as he looks down at the word printed on his bracelet that he realises he needs to seriously get his act together with Cloud… the word that both brakes his heart and makes it soar “everything”.

Aerith is pretty happy with her bracelet, and as she does with most things, gives him a bunch of flowers for his efforts! He deliberated on what to put on hers too. “Girlfriend” made him feel guilty. He loves her, he does… but he knows, and she knows that they’re playing a game until Zack tells her about Cloud. Instead he stamps “soul” on hers because she will always know his soul better than anyone.

Giving Angeal his is nerve wracking because it makes Zack feel stupid. He knows Angeal wouldn’t make fun of his homes tradition, but still… in the end the worrying is for nothing. Zack gives Angeal the bracelet stamped “mentor” and Angeal is very touched and even a little emotional over it actually. He gives Zack a side hug and puts the bracelet on immediately.

Genesis is -if possible- even more nerve wracking, because Zacknis absolutely sure he’ll be made fun of. He positively shakes out of his skin giving the bracelet stamped “hero” to Genesis and for a second Gen does do his whole “shoot it down in flames” thing until he realises two things: 1. Zack had gone to extend a art lengths to match the colour red to Gens coat, and 2. he turns it over in his hand and runs his fingers over the letters stamped into soft leather.

Zack absolutely panics when Genesis starts to cry. Gens emotional sure, but Zacks never seen the man cry. Gen asks him “why would you spend time on this for me?” And Zack tells him the truth, “cause you are a hero Genesis, and I wanted you to know that people see you that way.”

Genesis is never taking the bracelet off. Ever.

Then the only person left to give a bracelet to is Sephiroth. It is exceptionally hard to pin the man down that day, and in the end Zack has to wait a week for him to come back from mission. And then it’s terrifying to hand it over.

What’s even more terrifying is that Sephiroth kind of stops breathing for a second when Zack gives it to him. He sits on the edge of his desk heavily and stares at the inscribed bracelet in his hand. Zack says his name at least three times before Seph responds to him. When he does it’s with a shaking “why?” And Zack can only hug him and whisper back “because you are,”

The stamp simply reads “best friend” but it’s enough to bring the great general sephiroth to his knees.

***

Alternative title for this little headcanon is:

Zack Fair stops crisis core with the power of friendship.

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acti-veg · 9 months ago

Note

I know you have talked a lot about leather. But what’s about wool and fur like are those materials really that lang lasting and sustainable?

Long lasting? Sure, but that doesn’t mean sustainable. ‘Long-lasting’ and ‘biodegradable’ have been seized on as marketing for what are about the only corporate green buzzwords you can legally apply to these wildly unsustainable products that make them sound vaguely sustainable. Anti-vegan tumblr of course, does their advertising for free.

The massive environmental harm caused by grazing sheep, who have converted vast swathes of formerly forested land into ecologically dead wastelands, is difficult to overstate. Grazing animals are widely acknowledged as one of the most significant barriers to forest restoration and re-wilding.

Sheep are called ‘the white plague’ by some ecologists for good reason. Just take a look at what has happened to most of England and Wales. That isn’t even factoring in the methane emissions of the sheep themselves, their resource requirements, or the fact that farmers routinely kill predators to protect their herds. Not to mention the fact that modern production and dyeing processes make much of the wool we buy not actually even biodegradable.

The vast majority of fur is farmed, and farmed fur is no more sustainable than plastic is by just about any available metric. From getting the animals to slaughter size in the first place to the production processes, toxic run off, preservatives, it is nonsense to call fur sustainable. So much so that a campaign from the European Fur Breeders' Association which claimed that it is ‘eco-friendly to wear fur’ was banned by the Advertising Standards Authority, as the group could not provide adequate evidence that this was true.

It is just utterly depressing how much corporate propaganda that otherwise intelligent people are willing to swallow just because it confirms their existing bias and supports the choices they already want to make. Let’s be honest, nobody is buying a fur coat, a leather jacket or choosing wool over cotton because they did the research and decided it was more sustainable.

People buy animal fabrics because they like the way they look and feel, then find ways to justify it according to their existing values after the fact. Hell, they barely even talk about the sustainability of fabrics outside wanting to criticise vegans for being somehow solely responsible for the existence of plastic clothing.

#ask #wool #fur

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steddieasitgoes · 11 months ago

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@steddiemas Day 30: Smut Themed Sentence Starters

I ended up using two sentences: "Who needs a sleigh ride when I can ride you instead" and "Is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Tags: Established Relationship, Implied Smut, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Eddie Munson Is A Menace, Steve Harrington Is A Romantic

wc: 1345 | Rating: M

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Steve is a hopeless romantic.

Always has been and probably always will be.

Eddie pretends to hate it, but Steve knows the truth. That under all that leather and loud music is a giant teddy bear who swoons every time Steve shows up with a fresh bouquet of flowers or a pack of his favorite cigarettes from Melvalds.

Everyone else may be fooled, but not Steve.

Which is why Steve has to pull out all the stops for their first winter together as a couple.

He set the bar high last year when they were just friends and now he has to top it. Not because Eddie’s expecting it or anything, but because he wants to. Eddie deserves it. And honestly, so does Steve.

After watching hours of romantic holiday movies and driving around the local towns to see what winter activities they have to offer, Steve draws up the plan. He rents a small cabin two towns over where the snow is already two feet deep with more on the way and buys tickets to all the fun events the town has to offer. Well, almost all of the events. Ice skating is out of the question after last year’s incident left them both battered, bruised, and so sore they could barely get out of their own beds for the Hopper-Byers New Year’s Eve party.

So far, the vacation is everything Steve hoped it would be. They’ve played in the snow, eaten the best apple pie he’s ever gotten his hands on, and strolled around town whispering judgments about the over-the-top Christmas decorations people have outside their houses. They’ve also made themselves comfortable in the cabin — breaking in the bed and the couch and maybe even the indoor hot tub once or twice.

But today is the real showstopper. The grand finale to their little winter weekend getaway and the entire reason Steve booked this place in the first place.

They’re going on a reindeer-pulled sleigh ride through the picturesque snowy terrain of the town.

Or at least they’re supposed to be going on a reindeer-pulled sleigh ride.

“What do you mean you double booked?”

“It seems we accidentally scheduled you and another party for the two o’clock sleigh ride,” the woman behind the counter says. She’s older, graying hair pulled back in a neat bun and thin glasses falling down the bridge of her nose. Steve glares as her lips turn up in what is supposed to be an apologetic smile as she continues. “Since the other party included children, we assumed you wouldn’t mind giving up your spot for a refund.”

“Well, you assumed wrong,” Steve snaps, hands slamming down on the desk a bit more forceful than he had hoped. “You didn’t even give me a courtesy call to let me know of the cancelation.”

“We were just about to do that.”

“Bullshit! My reservation was scheduled for ten minutes ago. If you were going to call you would have done it the moment you realized your mistake.”

“I am sorry for the inconvenience Mr. Harrington but we only realized the error when the other family checked in early.”

“So if I was allowed to check in early like I tried to do, you would have let us keep our reservation?” Steve asks, growing more and more irritated by the second.

He and Eddie have been freezing their balls off for almost an hour now outside of the rustic shop. Even bundled up in their winter coats, beanies, and hand-knitted scarf and mitten set from Claudia hasn't been enough to keep them warm. It’s why he sent Eddie off in the direction of the hot chocolate stand while he tried to work his charm and get them into an earlier slot.

“Well, no, that’s not what I’m saying, but—“

“This is ridiculous,” Steve huffs, tugging at the hem of his scarf. “I booked this trip specifically for this sleigh ride and now you’re telling me I can’t go on it.”

“I understand your disappointment Mr. Harr—“

“Stop calling me that!” If there’s one thing Steve hates more than being unjustly inconvenienced it’s being referred to be his surname. He doesn’t need to be reminded of the man he shares his name with. Not now, not ever.

“Um, sorry…” the woman trails off and glances down at her schedule. “Steve. I can offer you a voucher for the trouble. Unfortunately, we are booked up for the rest of the week.”

“Keep the voucher and shove it,” Steve hisses before shoving himself away from the counter.

It takes him a minute to reign in his anger as he stomps his way toward Eddie. He’s sitting on a bench holding two cups of hot chocolate. Judging by the way his body shivers, they’re not doing much to keep him warm.

“Uh oh,” Eddie says, setting the cups aside when Steve gets closer. “I don’t like that frown.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it. Gladys over there fucked with our reservation,” Steve sneers, plopping down on the bench. “Said they doubled booked us and voided our reservation to give to some couple with kids because she “figured I wouldn’t mind.” Of course, I fucking mind!”

“Oh sweetheart,” Eddie sighs, tugging Steve until he’s tucked securely under his left arm. “M’sorry. She sounds like a bitch.”

“Those kids aren’t even going to remember the sleigh ride when they’re older! But we would have!”

Eddie nods in agreement, nuzzling his cheek into the soft cotton of Steve’s beanie. The contact is almost enough to extinguish Steve’s anger. Almost.

“Now the vacation is ruined.”

“And you say I’m a drama queen,” Eddie teases, pulling away and twisting on the bench to face Steve. He tucks one leg under him and lets the other dangle off the bench before joining their hands together as best he can given they’re still wearing mittens. “Our vacation is not ruined. It’s been fun. Maybe our best one yet.”

“Yeah, well it could have been even better.”

“Oh come on,” Eddie tsks, squeezing his hand. “Who needs a sleigh ride when I can ride you instead.”

“Eddie!” Steve gapes. He can feel what little heat is in his body crawling its way to his cheeks, turning them a bright shade of red if he had to guess.

“Or you could ride me,” Eddie says, before leaning forward. He gets his lips on the shell of Steve’s ear before continuing, “You know I’m not picky.”

Suddenly the blood rushing to his face takes a detour traveling down, down, down until it settles in his dick. Steve can feel it twitch at Eddie’s word and the feeling of his warm breath against his ear.

“You’re a menace.”

Eddie hums, glancing around to make sure no one is watching them before letting his hand drift to Steve’s lap. He moves slowly at first, teasing him until his hand finally settles on the apparent bulge in his pants.

“M’ you like it though, don’t ya big boy,” Eddie says, giving an experimental squeeze before pulling his hand away completely. When Steve looks up, he’s staring at him with those big round mischievous eyes of his. “Is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Steve groans both in pleasure and in exasperation. He buries his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck for a moment before pulling away. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“Hey, it put a smile on your face didn’t it.”

It did. Though, if he’s honest with himself, Eddie always puts a smile on his face. Even when he’s being an annoying, teasing, little shithead. Leaning forward to close the distance, Steve gives him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away.

“Christ, your lips are freezing.”

“Better take me inside and warm me up.”

Steve gets himself on his feet before turning around to offer a hand to Eddie. “Come on then, I think I know just how to get you nice and warm, baby.”

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie fic #steddie smut #steddie ficlet #steddie fan fic #steve harrington #steve fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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atopvisenyashill · 6 months ago

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Hey how come all the costumes in the final couple seasons of got were just black leather with pointy shoulders and chains

the real answer is that michele clapton is a hack and fraud who hates me, personally.

but there's probably a few reasons. i think irl, people associate black, leather, and wide shoulders with power, intimidation, more serious energy so to visually signal that sansa, cersei, dany, etc are now Power Players they have to put them in those costumes. michele clapton especially really loved using black leather and chains to signify Someone Is Being Serious - she has that interview where she talked specifically about Cersei and Dany wanting to be taken seriously by shying away from colors, using "chains of intent", and emulating the men who had the greatest affect on them ie Tywin and Viserys. You can really see when you look at Michele's interviews that she's bringing her own view of things into the costumes, which, yeah that's how it works (there's like a joke that Bear McCreary, for example, uses his partner as a singer in all of his soundtracks purely because he just wants to hear her sing lol) but I do think you really see the limits of her creativity there too. She has this idea that extravagance = unseriousness which is incredibly at odds with the way George has built up his world - I mean, Aegon IV was out here wearing like a 9 pound crown, and Daeron II wore it as well specifically to show how serious he is about being King. Roose wears all pink! The Tyrells are always awash in color, hell the Lannisters are always awash in color. The only person it makes sense to shy away from color is Dany - I imagine it was just easier for Viserys to find black leather to wear and buy that still showed his house colors than something red so that's why he leaned on it, and it would make sense that Dany is trying to emulate the only other Targaryen she knew by dressing the way he did when she feels like she's finally stepping into her role as The True Queen of Westeros. For Cersei, Sansa, even Arya, I think it's deeply silly that she took that similar approach.

Like, I do think some of her choices were okay - I love that she usually has Dany wearing trousers of some sort underneath her dresses because she felt like she always needed to prepare to run away, for example. I love Cersei's coronation dress, if not the ugly crown. I liked her dedication to making sure the Sons of the Harpy masks looked handmade and not factory produced. I love that Arya outfit in the last season, and I liked the attention to detail there when it comes to the coat looking slashed by Arya herself to make it fit her in the way she wants it to. I think where Michele consistently fails is a) the idea that the North is somehow less interested in fashion when the reality is that the North simply has different taste in fashion because they have a vastly different climate than most of the other kingdoms (similar to Dorne) and b) she tends to conflate feminimity and androgyny with weakness or silliness and masculinity with strength. It's not to say that you shouldn't think about the ways in which We As A Culture define power when designing a costume but just uncritically regurgitating "man = strong, woman = weak" sartorial work is lazy beyond belief. Jany Temime is leagues better, like even with some of my criticism of her work, I think she just has a much deeper understanding of color work, silhouette, and the way character informs style.

(people through a FIT in the tags of that post i linked tho even tho the op was Literally just making a gifset showing the costume change? no it's problematic to say "dany is trying to be taken seriously by emulating her brother" even though...that's literally exactly what she's doing. once again, targ nation are babies, sorry for my hater rant here but that post is one of the most annoying pile ons in this fandom to me).

#especially when the op was RIGHT dany emulating viserys WAS a bad sign LOL. wrong AND loud.#asks #anons

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vexic929 · 6 months ago

Text

Child in Time

Chapter 2

Warnings: none

Chapter 1: link Next chapter: link

"So let me get this straight," Joe said, leaning forward on the sofa and resting his elbows on his knees as he processed what Barry had told him. The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light across the room, highlighting the worry etched on Joe's face, and the worn leather of the sofa creaked slightly as Joe shifted his weight. "Somebody - you think you, from the future - dropped off a baby in your lab with no warning and now you think that you need to be the one to take care of him. Tell me again why you can't do the responsible thing and drop him off at a hospital?"

Barry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, exhaustion seeping into his bones. Had he eaten enough? Probably not, he'd been so preoccupied...Joe spoke again before Barry could respond.

"Barr, look. You're barely out of college, you're still figuring your own life out. You're not equipped to take care of a child, especially one with...whatever issues you said this baby has. You haven't even had him for one day and you look dead on your feet, how are you gonna take care of him long-term?" Joe asked and Barry shrugged helplessly.

"Joe, I can't just leave him. I don't know why I brought him here but I know there has to be a reason."

"How do you even know it was you who left him?" Joe countered.

"I left a note-" Barry started but Joe interrupted.

"You know as well as I do that notes can be forged." Joe insisted, his frown deepening.

"Who would forge my handwriting to hand me a baby?" Barry asked incredulously.

"I dunno, Barr, who the hell would give you a baby in the first place? You're not ready to be a dad."

Barry leaned back in his chair tiredly, scrubbing his face. "So, what, I should just let him go into the system?"

"I'm not saying that-" Joe started but the sound of the front door handle twisting interrupted him and they both turned to look as Iris walked through. "Hey baby girl, it's kinda late. Everything okay?" Joe asked after a moment as Barry tried to pretend they'd been talking about anything else.

"I know, I'm sorry, everything's fine, I think I missed packing up a couple of my notebooks and one of them has like all of my notes from Sociology 102," she said, setting her bag and coat down by the door. "What are you two up to?"

Joe shrugged nonchalantly and Barry leaned on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, trying unsuccessfully to look as calm. "Nothing." They each said and Iris pursed her lips, raising an eyebrow in suspicion before heading upstairs to retrieve the notebooks.

Barry let out a heavy sigh and Joe turned to him again, studying him closely. "You sure about this, Barr? This is a hell of a responsibility to take on - and I'm not just talking about the parenting part. I know you're gonna do your damned best and love that kid, I'm not worried about that, but if he has other parents out there you might have to give him up after all this trouble is done."

The thought made Barry's insides twist uncomfortably but he shoved the feeling aside. "I know."

Joe sighed. "Alright, if you're set on this, I'll trust your judgment. Guess we better get things set up, then - in your room, I did enough time dealing with a baby at 2 in the morning."

"Who's dealing with a baby at 2 in the morning?" Iris echoed, entering the hall, notebooks in hand.

Barry's heart ached with the weight of everything he was keeping from her as he scrambled for a good excuse, feeling a bit like all he'd told her lately were lies. "Uh...a friend."

Iris pursed her lips. "Who?" She asked, suspicion evident in her tone.

Barry cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly feeling something like a desert. "Oh, um...a friend from college, you don't know them. They had a...family emergency. I'm just...you know, stepping in."

Iris frowned, clearly not buying it. "Since when do you have friends with babies?"

"Missed a lot in nine months," Barry said, trying to keep his tone light. "It's no big deal, really. Just helping out."

Joe interjected, clapping Barry on the shoulder. "Barry's just doing what he always does, helping people. Right, Barr?"

Barry nodded, grateful for Joe's support, even if it was a bit thin. "Yeah."

Iris studied them both for a long moment, clearly still unconvinced but choosing to let it go as she gathered her bag and coat. "Alright. Well, if you need any help while you're...babysitting, let me know."

Barry smiled, though it felt strained. "Thanks, Iris. I'll keep that in mind."

—

"Well, the blood tests look good," Caitlin said, crossing the room with a stack of papers to show Barry, who was standing and rocking the now sleeping infant idly in the doorway. The med bay was quiet, the soft hum of machines and the scent of antiseptic in the air. Barry peered over her shoulder as she flipped through them. "He isn't deficient in anything, he's even already had some of his immunizations. He's perfectly healthy, at least physically."

Barry breathed a sigh of relief and glanced down at the baby who had smushed his face into Barry's shoulder, his tiny fists gripping his T-shirt tightly. He stroked the soft wisps of hair gently almost on instinct and Eo let out a tiny sigh before burrowing further into his shirt.

"Good. Did you test...I mean...can we see if he's mine?" Barry asked hesitantly.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know and he was pretty sure that Dr. Wells wouldn't like that he'd even asked - something about Barry not becoming attached or learning too much that could alter the timeline. But Barry needed to know at least that much, he couldn't stand not knowing, especially if it turned out Eo was his.

Caitlin nodded, setting the papers aside and crossing to the computer. "I did test and...while he is not a match for you, he did match someone else."

Caitlin pressed a button and Eddie Thawne's photo appeared on the screen. Barry felt his heart drop.

"So...Eddie's his father?" Barry asked and Caitlin shrugged.

"He's definitely related to Eddie but the results aren't clear on how close. Eo does look a lot like him, though." She commented and Barry looked down at the sleeping baby again.

He really did, if Barry was honest, he could easily imagine Eddie looking similar when he was the same age. Barry felt a surge of emotions run through him that he wasn't sure he could identify. It was a good thing, maybe, that Eo wasn't actually Barry's child...right? And, it made sense - Eddie and Iris were already on the fast track to starting their life together. Though his head spun and he felt faintly nauseous as he wondered what could have happened to Eddie and Iris if Barry was now Eo's guardian?

"Barry?" Caitlin's soft voice cut through his thoughts before they could spiral further. "You okay?"

Barry blinked and adjusted the baby in his arms. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just a lot to process, you know?" He said, forcing a smile.

Caitlin smiled in sympathy and crossed the room again to lay a hand on his arm comfortingly. "I know. This is a lot to take in, but you're not alone. We'll figure this out together."

As Barry set up a nursery in Joe's house and finally settled Eo in for the night, he couldn't help but feel a sudden, overwhelming sense of uncertainty for the future. Granted, everything had been a bit uncertain as of late, but as he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the crib where Eo slept soundly, Barry felt a pit in his stomach. He knew Joe was right - this was a monumental responsibility, one he wasn't entirely sure he was ready for.

Barry leaned back, rubbing his eyes and trying to clear his thoughts. The house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors. Joe's house had always been a place of comfort for Barry, a sanctuary where he felt loved. Now, it was also Eo's sanctuary, a place where another little boy could find safety, maybe a family.

Barry sat there a moment longer, letting the quiet seep into his bones, before changing into pajamas and climbing into bed, exhaustion pulling him under before his head had even hit the pillow.

#child in time #baby eo au #the flash #cw the flash #the flash cw #eobard thawne #barry allen #joe west #baby eobard #vexic writes #vexic lives

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