#the first one was taken weeks before the closing but it is funny isn’t it.

[jackyfalahees]

Daily Camelot brain rot trying to cope with closing update

[h8ani]

In which a silly thought of teasing Rindou for a month would be fun, but after a simple week he would surely snap and make you remember why you should never play games with him

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: fem!reader, dacryphilia, edging/orgasm control, rough sex, reader is alluded to squirting, mean!rindou, potential dubcon, choking, established relationship, masturbation (male)

Here is my submission for @wakashawty NNN collab! This is my first collab ever and was so so so fun to do!

Something about Rindou is, don’t test him. He isn’t one for jokes and there will be consequences even if it’s meant as a joke.

You thought it would be funny, a comical lil thing to do. If you were smart and had even an ounce of self-preservation, this thought wouldn’t have crossed your mind, the thought being discarded as you went on with your day. But yet here you were. Wanting to participate in No Nut November was supposed to be a little joke, you must’ve taken it too far because now you found yourself bent over the back of the couch, hands pinned behind your back, and being edged for what seems to have been hours. You never meant for it to go this far yet here you are.

Rindou’s thrusts are rough and unrelenting as he fucks up into you, his grip on both of your wrists keeping you in place draped over the couch. The sound of skin slapping skin is all you can hear, constantly ringing in your ears as your pussy continues to take the abuse. You felt the wetness drip down your thighs followed by the sickly squelching sound your pussy started to make, you wince once you felt Rindou’s cock still from within you. Embarrassment wasn’t the word you felt while you were powerless over the couch, you were mortified. Rindou pulls his cock out of you and you feel a quick ‘slap’ against your pussy. His fingers gather up your slick before pushing two of his digits in knuckle deep eliciting a choked out moan from you. Rindou kneels down so he’s eye level with your dripping core now, a proud smirk appearing on his face. “Oh? What’s this? Are you enjoying yourself?” He curls his fingers hitting your gspot perfectly, your legs tremble as he starts finger fucking you. “You’re not meant to enjoy this.” He tsk’s from behind you, fingers slamming against your pussy allowing the wetness to drip down your legs.

You try to twist your wrists free, the feeling of being defenseless was something you weren’t particularly fond of, you hated it really, preferring to hold him close to you and have your hands roam across his body— he knew that of course. He knew everything about you, from the way you loved having your hair played with when you had a long day and were sleepy down to what you loathe, but you weren’t meant to like this; this was a punishment for a stupid idea that was brought to fruition.

You hear him groan suddenly, thrusts slowing down and a sigh slips past your lips as you think it’s all over now.

Oh, you stupid, stupid girl.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He says, voice ever so present in your ears.

Rindou sees you tense up, your body stiffening once you hear him. He has to fight back another groan once you involuntarily clench around him.

Rindou doesn’t particularly care to be like this with you, never a fan of “punishing” you if that’s what this even is. He fucking hates being teased, but you knew this, so why did you even try?

“Babe!” Rindou hears you call, your footsteps heard climbing up the stairs. “Babe! Babe! Babe!” You rush into his room with a smile coming across your face. He raises an eyebrow, curious as to what you were so excited about.

“What?”

“Guess what we’re going to do together this month?” Your smile only gets bigger as you speak to him.

“Thanksgiving?”

“Wha? No! Well yes, but not the answer!” Tired of guessing already, he gives you a bored look and waits for you to continue, hands motioning you to finish what you wanted to tell him. “We’re gonna do No Nut November!”

“Absolutely not,” Rindou says quickly which only leads to the most devious smile you could muster.

“Too bad! If I’m playing then you have to play!” You exclaimed before slipping out of his bedroom before he could interject again. You were serious about playing the game too, he knew you were. What he didn’t know was just how dirty you would play it. He could deal with you purposefully grinding your ass into him at night, that was nothing new to him. What he didn’t expect was the tease of a century of you sending lewd photos of yourself while he was at work.

Once his phone vibrates against his desk he thinks nothing of it when he sees your name pop up with a notification of a text, you always send texts while he’s at work. Clicking in his password he clicks the notification only to slam his phone hard against his desk. The photos sent were of you, in a short mini skirt bent over with no panties on, he could see only from the waist down but he noticed your fingers gathering your own slick, slim fingers prodding your entrance like you were teasing yourself. Rindou picks his phone back up to see multiple photos sent that he couldn’t look away from, another text comes in from you ‘ Wish you were the one touching me:( ’ His face now the shade of a tomato and cock pressing hard against his slacks he stands up abruptly and marches down to the single stall men’s restroom. Fingers lock the door quickly and tug his pants down even faster until he finally fists his cock. A low guttural groan leaving him while he thinks of fucking you in that mini skirt, how he wouldn’t even let you touch yourself one bit and allow him and only him to touch you. He strokes himself faster while his thoughts run rampant, precum leaking past his tip until he spills the rest of his seed all over his hand. Rindou curses internally once he looks down to see the mess, head falling back against the stalls door. Once he got home, your little game was going to be over.

To his surprise, he had more restraint than that. In your eyes that was a green light to keep going, you continued, and continued, and continued to tease him. Until one day, you wore that dress, that one fucking dress. The one that you wore on your birthday that brought back so many memories to his mind, specifically memories of him stripping the dress off of you. The dress you were wearing drove him up the wall. You couldn’t plan to wear that and expect him to keep his composure like he did the past week, you just couldn’t.

He knew that you knew what that dress did to him, how the satin snug around your curves in the most perfect way that he went crazy for. So you coming downstairs acting as if you were going out, that didn’t fly with him.

“Y/n” the tone in his voice was enough to send shivers down your spine, you dared to glance over your shoulder to see him standing up. “Come here.” He says simply. You may like to tease and play games but you knew better than to argue, especially with the way Rindou was looking at you.

You made your way over to him, the only sound that could be heard was of your heels against the floor. Once you made it in front of him, his presence seemed more threatening than it was when you were a few feet away. Slowly looking up at him you’re met with his cool lavender eyes, staring so emotionless back down at you.

“I’m only going to say this once. Bend over, before I bend you over myself.”

You were tired yet you needed more, you needed to cum. Constantly being brought to the edge only to be pulled back was a pain you never knew before.

A gasp escapes from your lips once you feel his arm slip in front of you and press two cold silver ringed fingers to your clit. The pressure is enough to bring you back to a high so quickly and make your legs shake. “Please…” you whimper while pushing your plush hips back into his own. Instantly his fingers still against you, hot wet tears beginning to well up in your eyes. The frustration and growing pain in between your legs reaching a new all time high.

“Please what?” His head tilts to the side although you couldn’t see it.

“Wanna cum, ‘m sorry.” You try to grind down into his fingers to alleviate yourself, you expected this not to work in your favor, what you didn’t expect was for Rindou to let your wrists go that he held, the dead weight of your arms falling forward ached from how long they were pinned behind your back, you rubbed your wrists, moving them around in the process.

You’re pulled up by his strong and steady hands, spun around to face him, suddenly making eye contact with him brought a suffocating tension in the air you didn’t feel when your back was the only thing that faced him. The air around you is so weak and brittle, feeling as if it would snap at any moment if given the chance. Your eyes met his with an alertness as he stared through you, the stress from the situation you put yourself in was evident even to him. His stare was uncomfortable, it was meant to be, making you squirm just from a single look from him. Your breath felt constricted as you finally spoke. “Baby…” you say, eyes stinging and rimmed red. You blink and let the stray tears fall, hand quickly wiping them away as you utter, “Please.”

His face softens, arms dipping and hooking around your legs so you can sit on top of the couch, instinctively you wrap your legs around him. “Tell me, love,” he positions himself at your entrance while he speaks. “What month is it again?”

“November?” You say confused, legs spreading to allow him in further. “Why are you asking? What are you getting at?”

“What was that little thing you wanted to do called again? No Nut what?”

“November…” you glare at him, irritation running high now. You begin to close your legs but his hand that was holding onto your waist stops you, causing you to hold yourself up on the couch now. His grip on your thigh is rough as he pushes your legs open further.

“You wanted this, didn’t you? It’s the name of the game sweetheart.” He smiles, a deep chuckle erupting from him. “You’re not cumming, end of story.” With that he pushes in, burying himself to the hilt. A sob rips out of you once he starts fucking you at a brutal pace, the way he still has any energy to continue, his pace unwavering was unbeknownst to you because you were tired, drained even. He was so deep and it was sending your mind into a frenzy making you dizzy with each thrust, your own body wanting to give out and let Rin take you as he pleases.

Tears rolled down your cheeks with every slam of his hips against yours, Rindou just laughs, grabbing your cheeks with one hand simultaneously squishing them, you muster enough strength to glare with the tears blurring your vision. “Don’t you look cute crying, you mad at me now? ‘s that it?” He angles his hips in a way that has you crying his name out, thrusting upward he hits the spongey spot within you that sends your legs into a spasm. You feel your stomach tightening up for the nth time tonight. Your hands reach up to grip his shoulder as you feel yourself so, so close to your orgasm.

Please, please, please.

You were ruined. Silent sobs were let out as you hooked your ankles together, a desperate move for him to stay inside of you. Rindou watches the way you blink more tears away, the hopeless look you had as you stare up at him, silently begging him to allow you to cum. “You gonna quit it with these games?” He brings his hand to your cheek, thumb wiping away whatever tears that continue to fall. You nod almost before he can finish, a slight peek of hope appearing on your face. “You pro-”

“I promise! P-Please, please I wanna cum, I need to cum Rin.” You shakily blurt, pulling him in even closer, feeling him even deeper than before.

“You pull this shit on me again and I won’t be so nice next time.” He says before slipping a hand in between you two, you feel his fingers press against your clit, moving in quick circular motions.

It should embarrass you how quickly the knot in your stomach tightened up, you should be even more embarrassed with the sounds you were making, how pathetic you sounded, but you didn’t care, all you cared about was your impending orgasm and how it will be the best damn orgasm of your life.

Rindou thrusted up into you roughly, now pulling away his hand which elicited a desperate whine from you which he quickly shut down. He wraps his hand around your throat squeezing ever so slightly, your attention now centered on him. “You cum from my cock, understood?” Nodding as well as you could, his grip tightens around your throat, fingers pressing in just the right spot that makes your head tingle. His pace quickens, thrusts still rough and hitting you just right. You were breathless, eyes glazed over and head spinning from the lack of oxygen, but who needed to breathe when all you wanted to do was cum.

Unperceived to you, you clenched tighter the longer you were without any air in your lungs. Rindou groans while watching you with lidded eyes as he feels himself nearing his nth orgasm of the night, thrusts becoming rougher, more erratic. A strangled gasp leaves you as you suddenly feel the coil inside snap, your body overcome by the pleasure consuming you and the mess you were making. Your body shook against his and Rindou releases his grip on your throat. His hands now hold your waist as he finishes inside of you with a grunt, his hot cum pumping inside you, painting your insides white as he rides out his high.

Your mind was spinning, unsure if it was from the sudden oxygen rushing to your head or from the intense orgasm. You slump against him with an exhausted huff, Rindou runs his hand through your hair as you both calm down, the heavy breaths from you both are the only sound that can be heard.

“Learn anything today?” His voice suddenly heard, barely having any energy you lazily nod, head tilting up from against his chest.

“Yeah, November is for Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving alone.”

@bitchcraftinc @enchantedforest-network

[puppetwoman17]

Magic Billy headcanon coming through!

You know all those comics where magic is taken away from its users? And most of them are really weak or get constant headaches?

Yeah, I decided to crank it up cause Billy full on dies. As in he will drop to the floor and his body becomes a husk. There’s not even a little memory twitch from his fingers. The boy is GONE.

Now, I’m thinking this could be because when someone is chosen to be the Champion, their soul is automatically turned into magic. They’re still a person, but they’re kind of like a puppet. This could be a thing before they’re born, like a destiny sort of thing, or immediately when they speak Shazam’s name the first time.

Whichever ones the case doesn’t matter tho, cause Billy knows it. He feels how different his soul is. This isn’t a commonly known thing tho. No one in the magic community knows this because the details are hush hush.

So imagine, someone(maybe Waller, maybe Luthor, cause apparently anyone can just waltz into the rock 🙄), finds a way to take magic away, whether it’s by subjugation of the rock or some kind of magic suction spell. Doctor Fate wilts in his seat, not able to talk as much. Zatanna, Giovanni, Constantine, Xanadu, Specter, what have you, they all hold their heads and do their best to keep standing up—

Billy falls to the floor. He’s not blinking. He’s not breathing. He’s not speaking. He’s not moving. The boy’s just gone.

Diana falls to the floor to cradle his head in her lap, feeling for a pulse, lightly slapping him to wake him up.

Clark is motionless standing up. He says slowly and with dreading horror:I can’t hear his heartbeat.

This jumps the heroes into a frenzy. The magic users go through the books they have on the Champion; his duties, research on the RoE, etc. There’s nothing on this. Nothing at all.

The rest of the League put him in the medbay immediately, trying to see if there’s anything normal that they can do. But without a heartbeat, their options are limited.

Some time later, they decide to split. A larger team will do what they can to bring Magic back, and the rest will stay at the Watchtower. The magic users already suspect that this has something to do with Magic anyway, so it’s a win win.

It takes a couple days, but magic is returned to its users and the worlds at large. Billy jolts awake in his bed to a bunch of hysterical heroes and his first words are: how’s the Rock?

Yeah, the JL is not happy. They want an explanation. Surprisingly, the magic users do too.

Billy tells them with hesitant eyes, about his soul, about how he is essentially nothing without magic. He is magic, as closely related to the center of it(RoE) as anything else.

Unfortunately, this only seems to aggravate his friends. Now he’s apparently convinced them that he’s a puppet for forces beyond their reach and a slave to the system, which is pretty funny cause he’s already a slave to the foster system and he is, in fact, one of those “forces behind their reach”.

Even the magic users are uneasy about this, which says a lot cause whenever Billy tells the league something hair-raising, they just nod their heads.

Billy is not left alone for the next few weeks. It’s torture.

[k4vehrtz]

STARBOY

-> Pairing: shōta aizawa / sub! (trans) male reader

-> Request: yes / no

-> Word Count: 1K (roughly)

➷...Summary: shō offers a helping hand (more like mouth) when you're in need.

-> Notes: not the fic that was meant to be posted this week but seeing as that one is yet to be completed i thought i would post this request in the meantime!

➷...Content Warnings: vaginal descriptions, use of the word cunt, mentions of testosterone, exhibition, age gap (though not specified, both are adults), coach/athlete trope(?), oral (reader receiving), squirting, being caught masturbating, biting, at some point it is implied that shō may have a negative reaction to the reader being trans but he does not. if i miss anything let me know.

“You've got to be—holy shit, this can’t be real.” He grunts, his voice a gravelly whisper amongst the sound of sneakers frantically shuffling across the court. Jesus. His free hand immediately goes to his mess of black hair, strumming his calloused fingers through the stray strands clinging to his sweaty forehead.

It’s a lost cause — it’s all a fucking lost cause. This team is the last nail in the coffin that was Shōta Aizawa’s career as an athlete.

The corners of his lips can’t help but curl upwards at that thought. An athlete? Maybe some ridiculously delusional part of himself still had a shred of his youthful shamelessness. He is, and has been, a disgrace for quite some time now.

His days of being a household name are long gone. You’ve taken his place now, haven’t you? You’re a good player, a team player, and not too hard on the eyes either.

Shō’s had his eyes on you for a while now. You’ve come a long way since he first saw you handing out water bottles to the members of your team. Now you’re destroying his team on the court. It takes every ounce of self-control in him to not laugh. Funny how the world works, right?

 Shōta Aizawa prides himself on how mature he is. He’s not going to pick a fight with you. You’re half his age for crying out loud. He’s above that because he’s incredibly mature; As most people his age would be.

So, it’s purely coincidental that he’s in the same locker room as you. He just happened to take a wrong turn when attempting to find his team. As their coach, it’s his duty to comfort them after such a…horrific loss. But accidents happen and he couldn’t just waltz in here without conversing with you. What if you misunderstood and painted him out to be some kind of pervert? It’s only right that he makes small talk.

But the words that were at the tip of his tongue disappeared in an instant. Perhaps his critical thinking skills have gone along with it. Well, this is quite the turn of events, isn’t it?

“…In all my years of playing this damn game,” He cocks his head sideways, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I’ve never found it remotely arousing.” He says pointedly, clicking his tongue. Your skin warms.

You open and close your mouth once, twice, and then a third time but no words slide past those ridiculously beautiful lips of yours. Shō doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s staring. “Each to their own,” He shrugs and you want nothing more than the floor to swallow you whole.

“I…” You start, scrambling to find the right words to say. But in a situation like this, what could you say? The coach of the opposing team just walked in on you with your hands down your pants. Not a good look.

“Wh–What are you even doing in here, first of all?” You counter, fighting a heated blush as you not-so-discreetly pull your hand out of your shorts. Fingers coated in your arousal fluid.

Silence, then a moment later he deadpans, “Got lost, and then walked in on you…doing whatever it is that you were doing.” And before you can stop yourself, “It’s the testosterone, I can’t help it, alright?” you dig yourself into a deeper hole.

Shō blinks at you, once, twice, and then a third time. It’s like you’re taking turns leaving one another speechless. Before his mouth forms something of an ‘O’ shape. You grimace, bracing yourself for this embarrassing situation to take an even worse turn. But it doesn’t.

“Jesus,” He curses, more so to himself, and then takes a deep breath. “I can leave so you can finish—” He stops himself, sounding embarrassed, “…or I can help you with that problem of yours.”

“Go—You can go ahead,” you say, swallowing hard. Everyone has their needs, you remind yourself.

Shō’s gaze meets yours momentarily, silently requesting your approval once more. You nod, turning your head to the side as you lay on one of the benches, your legs spread. Dripping cunt on full display.

He lowers his face in between your legs without hesitation, warm breath tickling your sensitive thighs. As his teeth gently graze the fat of your thighs. He takes his time, gently nipping at your thighs before trailing light kisses up either one. Stopping just short of your drooling hole.

It’s torture, really. The way he alternates between light kisses, gentle nips, and then full-on sucking hickeys onto your inner thighs. Always stopping short of your cunt.

The rough pads of his fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he holds you in place. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. His tongue lapped at your thighs covered in arousal fluid. It’s like he’s never tasted anything sweeter and you squirm, utterly embarrassed. Embarrassed by how wet it makes you; Embarrassed by the sounds you’re both making.

After what felt like hours—You don’t know, you’ve lost track of time. His mouth moves from your thighs to your glistening labia. He presses a kiss to your outer lips, taking his time to spread them, before licking a fat stripe over your labia. You feel yourself tremble, biting down on your lower lip to stifle your moans. There are still people outside. But you’d be lying if you said that didn’t make it all the more exciting.

And then it happens without warning — his tongue breaches your entrance. Your eyes flutter closed, and you knit your brows together when you feel him squeezing your clit in between the rough pads of his fingers. It’s all so perfect. He’s dragged this out for far too long.

He’s so good to you. Your legs are shaking but he holds you in place with one hand as he laps at your sopping-wet cunt like it’s his last meal. You can feel your orgasm creep up on you and oh when it does, you’re squirting. Spraying your juices all over his face, and he doesn’t protest in the slightest. He pulls away, lips quirking, and licks what’s left on his face contently.

[minniepetals]

cry me a river | the pawns

— summary: when pawns are used well, they are the soul of the chess. you might as well take advantage of what you’re given

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 6.4k

— warnings: none

— PART 22 / previous post / masterpost

“Why did she call you buttercup?”

“Buttercups reminded her of me,” you answer Yoongi as take your steps into Bangtan’s manor for the first time in weeks. “Bright and yellow, pretty little thing.” You pause. “And a weed in her path.”

“She was never on your list?”

“Nari had always been insignificant,” you say with arms crossing over your chest, wanting to leave it at that. 

But Yoongi isn’t satisfied with the short answer. “You never told me how the two of you got involved.”

“What can I say,” you shrug, “the Vipers were our ally so inevitably, we met. I caught her attention with my face and she grew intrigued and envious.” He told you his history so you might as well entertain him with yours. Just a little though. Only a little. “I’m sure you know it better than I, your little sister—”

“She’s not my sister.” He’s quick to cut you off, stern and firm. Yoongi isn’t someone who cares too much about the things that leave people’s lips. He lets them yap off as much as they’d like, so when he does ever speak up on things, you know just how serious he is.

So you nod, sending him a tight smile. “Right, right. That little celery,” you correct yourself, “she can get a bit crazy when she doesn’t get something she likes, or when the attention is shifted away from her.”

“She’s never had her attention shifted away in the times I lived in that manor,” Yoongi says and you give him a blank look.

Small little Yoongi, probably just the same as you who never received attention and love and was just seen as nothing more than an heir who was meant to fulfill his role. On the other hand, you never saw your father loving another, or even having the ability to love at all. There’s a bit of comfort knowing your father was incapable of feeling, so he had no one to show it to and you had no one to grow envious of, even though it did take you a while to get smart about understanding him. Yoongi on the other hand had to grow up seeing his father show his affection to someone else. 

He got out quicker than you though, and fled the scene before things could go downhill.

You came to a realization too late. It was your body that had to force you to “wake up.”

“So imagine what it was like when that moment finally came to her.” Up the stairs and to the right. It’s a bit funny you’re getting used to navigating through this manor like it’s your own. Once upon a time, it was yours. “The spotlight switching from her to me gave her quite the scare.”

Yoongi opens the door to Namjoon’s office and you walk in casually.

“I met her before I met you,” you say and he gives a moment of pause before following you right in when you take your designated seat, the same seat you’ve always taken whenever you walk into this room.

Namjoon’s already sitting across from you, taking a sip of coffee from his cup with Seokjin stood to his side as his second in command. Yoongi takes his position on his leader’s other side while Mingyu stays to your right.

“Do you know Alexander Larsen?” You start without hesitation, leaning back into your seat and trying to make yourself comfortable.

In truth, you will never get comfortable.

“Alexander Larsen?” Seokjin raises a brow at your question. “You don’t mean from the Norwegian mafia, do you? You’re not talking about the Kingsmen, are you?”

“So you do know of him.” You cross a leg over the other, feeling satisfied.

“You want to go after an old man?”

“It’s not the grandpa I want to go after, it’s his son.”

“Karl Larsen?” He shares a brief glance with Namjoon, expression marked with hesitation. “That’s a bit…”

You ignore his trailing comment to continue your point toward Namjoon. “I’d like to get close to gramps and I know you have connections to do so.”

“He’s a don, Y/N. A Godfather. A Norwegian Godfather,” he stresses. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.” Right from your proposal, he’s already denying his offer to help but you’re not about to back down. 

“You told me I could use you as my pawn,” you remind him of the contract the two of you made a few weeks ago. “You aren’t supposed to ask me questions and force me back on my plans just because a certain man I want to go after happens to have a Godfather as his father. If I get close to Alexander, my plot against his son would be much easier.”

“It isn’t easy getting close to Alexander,” you hear a different voice coming in through the door but you don’t have to look to know that it’s Hoseok. “Going after a Godfather is the equivalent of signing off your death certificate.”

“Not to mention Alexander is linked to the Italian mafia and you know how dangerous they are.” You roll your eyes when Jimin follows along.

It feels like being scolded all over again.

“Why’re you leaving the scope of Korea?” Taehyung asks.

“Are you deliberately trying to get yourself killed?”

“I said no questions,” you point directly at Jungkook who in turn ignores it by looking away, and return to the boss who sits at the center of them all. “If you’re scared, you can just say that.”

Namjoon frowns at your words, shaking his head subtly. “I can get anyone for you, Y/N, but I don’t want you messing around with foreign mafiosos.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re trying to walk into a battlefield.”

“The whole world has been a battlefield, Namjoon, and just because this particular boss is tougher than other soldiers out there doesn’t mean it’s enough to have me back down. I’m not backing down. I want Karl Larsen dead.”

“It’s dangerous territory.” Still, he denies you the help.

You let out a frustrated grunt. “That’s what you said the last time I proposed leaving Korea.”

“Yeah, and remind me what happened last time?”

Hwang Leehyun.

A living nightmare.

You cross your arms across your chest when he hits you with that, their eyes piercing without any hints of backing down and you suddenly have this urge to punch someone in the face. It feels like being in the eyes of your father all over again, being told you cannot do this or that, that you must do that and this. Like a child who does not, who can not, make her own decisions without the permission from her parents.

“Why do you even care whether I make it out okay or not?” So you snap with a click of your tongue, anger fueling. “This is my mission and my plot against the person I want dead.” You turn to Hoseok. “I’ve already told you I don’t care what happens to me down this path I’m walking on. If life decides it’s done with me, then so be it.”

If I die, I die, you told him once and Hoseok, frustrated in his own sense, turns to your right hand man instead of facing you.

“Aren’t you going to stop her?”

When all eyes fall on him, Mingyu has to take a moment to spare you a glance. You, who shoots a glare at Hoseok for even thinking of looking to him rather than addressing you. And knowing just how you feel, your commander answers in a calm tone.

“Whatever the boss wants, I provide and clear the path to let her get through. It is not my duty to stop her, therefore I hold no protest.”

Hm. Good answer.

“Just what are you feeding your Reapers?” When Hoseok turns back to you, you send him a cheeky grin.

“Loyalty. They’ll always take my side no matter what wrongs I’ve committed.” You look at the rest of them. “You should know about that.” And a bit of awkwardness they clearly don’t enjoy too well walks in, but you decide to ignore the effect those words had on them. “Mingyu knows his place and he knows what his title entails. It’s not his job to stop me. He’s here to clear the path for me and back me up, all the while doing what he can to get me back on my feet if things start going downhill and provide protection.” You give a little pause before adding. “You should learn from him.”

“The last time we let you do what you wanted, you ended up hurt.”

You frown at Seokjin when he says that, eyes avoiding his because you know just what he’s trying to imply. That moment of weakness you had turning to him. Why did you make that mistake?

You were just desperate to find a safe haven after what Leehyun did.

“The only thing with Karl is that he’ll get out my angry side, that’s all,” you say, resting back into the seat you’re in. “The situation won’t be the same. He wasn’t a creep, just some asshole psychopath who should have minded his own business.”

You and your stubborn streak. Namjoon knows you don’t have it in you to let your plans fall to a pause just because someone declines the help you’re seeking for. So he lets out a sigh, fingers pressing into his temples. “Like Hoseok said, getting a Godfather involved in your plans is the equivalent of choosing death.”

It doesn’t matter what sort of thing Karl has done to you to earn your anger. He’s still a son of a powerful man.

“I know,” still you say with acknowledgment, unwilling to back down. “But there will always be risks when it comes to going after people, and in this case, I’m walking a fine line between life and death, but as long as I can prove my worth and show Alexander that I’m a better pawn than his son, I have a higher chance returning here safe and sound. And besides,” you intertwine your fingers into one another and have your hands sit on your lap, “when it comes down to it, you’re all great at getting out of a sticky situation. If worse comes to worst, I’m sure I can rely on my pawn’s protection. You’re not trying to go back on your words again, now are you, Kim Namjoon?”

A promise is a promise.

A vow is a vow.

The Reapers have learned to master it and have proven again and again that their pledge to you is something that is unshakable. 

Namjoon asked you to collapse into him. They vowed to never let you fall.

And yet here you are now, a shattered mess of glass.

It looks like your choice of words gets to him because Namjoon’s shifting in his seat, uncomfortable, but he has no reason to say no to you now, not after you’ve brought the contract he wrote back into his face. And the past that left you scarred.

“.....I know someone who might be able to get you in contact with Alexander,” he finally says, “but it will be up to you to figure out how to get him on your side.”

The corner of your lips curls upward. “That’s all I need.”

And before the conversation can move on, Mingyu bends down to your side, whispering something into your ear. “They need you at The Academy.”

You give him a nod and uncross your legs to begin standing again. “Let’s pick up this conversation another time, yeah? You should prepare for my absence for at least a month or more. It won’t be easy getting close to a Godfather, after all.”

And with that, you walk off with Mingyu tailing along, leaving the seven of them still unsure about all of this.

.

.

.

“Sunoo refuses to sleep, my lady. I used to wake up to him trashing in his sleep and having to force him to wake up and ask him what was wrong but he never tells me anything. Now, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I just see Sunoo on his bed, wide awake. The teachers and I have tried to help but…nothing’s helping him.” 

Jungho stands with his head lowered as he fiddles around with his fingers, those little shoulders of his trembling slightly, and when you look at the headmaster for confirmation, she simply nods.

“So you asked the headmaster to call for me, yes?” The little boy nods at your question. “And why is that, Jungho? Why do you believe I can be of help?”

“I-I don’t know, my lady,” he answers truthfully, “but…Sunoo is my best friend and…and I want to help him get better so I thought…I thought that you would have a higher chance at helping than I.”

“You believe that I, someone who doesn’t know him quite as nearly as you do, who has spent years growing up with him, can be of better assistance?”

Jungho nods again. “Because..”

“Because?”

“When he did sleep…Sunoo used to call for your name.”

A droplet falls onto the floor where his feet stands, then another is quick to follow along, but Jungho keeps his head buried against his chest so that all you can see is the back of his hair. So you give Mingyu a look and he nods in return, turning to the child with a hand on his shoulder to lead him away while you head for the dorm the two of them have been assigned to.

Sunoo sits with a blank stare when you enter the room and shut the door behind you. Under the little boy’s eyes are dark bags that shouldn’t be there. He looks worse than the last time you saw him, a little daintier, not quite as skinny as he used to be when he worked under Ying but he might as well be getting back to that stage.

To that little child who was all skin and bones, his clothes too baggy for him when he’d look up at you determined and unwilling to give up hope.

He’s grown since then, putting on some meat, cheeks less hollowed, and a little more life in his physique, but that little spark of hope he had in him is dim. He hasn’t even realized you’ve walked in and Sunoo is someone who’s been taught to stay on high alert due to the fear instilled in him.

You’ve been trying to heal these children but just what are you doing if he’s still like this?

“Sunoo.”

When you call his name, he looks up with a slow reaction, though his eyes widen at the sight of you as expected. “My lady?” His voice is small and when he goes to shuffle from his bed to reach the floor, his legs give in underneath him when he tries to get to you.

You grab ahold of him before he can hurt his knees, picking him up effortlessly and setting him back onto the bed. He sits there with wide eyes searching for something, little fingers gripping onto the sleeve of your shirt a little too tight it turns white.

There is fear in his eyes, you realize. 

The fear you never got to see when he hid them in that room the two of you were in because he wanted to be brave, because he wanted to uphold the promise he gave unto you.

A child shouldn’t have gone through that.

“When was the last time you’d eaten?” You ask him, knowing that asking him if he’s eaten at all is dumb because it’s clear he hasn’t eaten in a while. You take the hands that balled onto you, placing them onto one another in his lap but knowing not to let it go. It probably gives him comfort knowing he can physically touch you.

“I…” His voice shakes so he’s quick to shut himself up with his teeth biting onto his lower lip. It quivers so he lowers his head and you give him the privacy by standing from the floor to sit beside him on the bed instead.

He keeps himself as silent as he can, and you watch the way he struggles, the way those little shoulders tremble in the way Jungho had and the way you remember the rest of them did when you rescued them that night. 

Hiding. Hiding.

All for you.

You feel some sort of hatred boiling within you because you know that all this hiding is for you and you hate yourself for doing this to them.

“Do you know something, Sunoo?” You let one hand remain holding his while the other reaches behind to rub along his back. “There is nothing in this world that will make me hate you for crying.”

He remains quiet but there’s a little jostle in his body when you say that. As if he’s surprised, as if he can’t believe you’d just said that.

“Do you believe crying is a sign of weakness?” You ask him and he gives you a small, honest nod. “Why do you believe that, Sunoo?”

“Because you hate it.”

Of course the reason comes back down to you. You’ve instilled something in them your father instilled in you. That crying is weak, that loving is dumb, that emotions must never be revealed to another because no one will care for you if you fail at these three tasks.

You’re becoming your father.

You want to punch the wall, kick something, anything, shoot a bullet into someone’s head, bring out a knife, and stab it into something. Anything.

But you know not to, not before a child, so rather than wanting to take out your anger onto something, you let yourself seek peace in the child.

You cup Sunoo’s face and force him to turn your way so that he cannot hide, so that you can allow yourself to see the tears that splash onto those eyes of his, and when they fall out from the corners of his eyes and you see the way he watches with surprise and redness in his pupils and on his cheeks and nose and lips, you press your forehead against his, forcing him to stop running away.

“There is nothing in this world that will make me hate you for crying,” you repeat your words to him once again because it’s hard. It’s hard trying to find any other words to comfort him because you’re bad at it, because you don’t know how to do it without giving a part of yourself to him. “You are seven, Sunoo. You are supposed to cry when something hurts you.”

“...” You see the way his lips quiver rapidly before he allows more tears to form along his waterline and inevitably fall.

“Do not bite your lips, you will hurt yourself.” He tries to remain silent but you refuse to let him, swiping a finger to let him loosen up, and with your permission, Sunoo cries as a child should.

He voices his frustrations, lets out the screams he’s been holding in, and cries as loud as he can while you hold him in your arms, covering his head into your chest so that he can still feel your presence and know that you aren’t going anywhere. That you’re accepting him. That he doesn’t need to hide from you.

Have you ever cried like this?

So loud and broken?

You did once. So many times. So many years ago.

When you were scared and frightened. When you had Mister Butler there to hold onto you when you needed to let the tears out.

“Do not bite your lips, you will bleed.”

He was the one who taught you that it was okay to let it all out when you cried, that it was okay to be loud, that you didn’t have to fear anyone hearing you.

It feels like a distant dream more than anything, however, because ever since the first few days of being sent to the White Room after Mister Butler died, you had let the fear return to haunt you once again. The fear of being loud. Succumbing to the silence.

Fearing the noise.

“You were gone, my lady.” Sunoo’s voice allows you to return to reality. “You were..you were dead, my lady.”

“...Was I?”

“I dreamt it,” his voice croaks. “She killed you.” So those were the nightmares that feared him into refusing to sleep when he needed it. He dreamt of your death, of him being unable to get you out of that situation.

You admit if it weren’t for Yoongi, Nari would have most definitely snapped and actually ended you right then and there. Yoongi saved your life and lost an eye as a result.

“I’m right here, Sunoo. I’m still alive.” You make sure he knows when you squeeze over his body a little tighter.

Sunoo leans in closer, nuzzling into your embrace.

“I-I know but…but the sun will set again and you’ll leave and…and what if that gentleman hadn’t been there with us? You would have…you could have…”

A sun setting.

The darkness.

The dreaded darkness.

You know just how Sunoo feels because you still fear the darkness. You still hate it when the sun sets because it means absolute darkness until the sun decides to rise again hours later. Hours that feel like days and weeks and months and years. Hours that seem to tick like the seconds are running a year too late. Hours that have you staring straight at the ticking clock, begging it to go faster and faster but it never seems to go as you ask.

That’s why all the clocks in the manor have been either destroyed or thrown away.

Living with your father still alive, you were unable to do things your way but ever since his death, you’ve reorganized lots and lots of things to accommodate your wants and needs.

The clocks are all gone.

“Do you want to come to Norway with me?”

Sunoo looks up suddenly at the suggestion, his brows furrowed with disbelief and for a second you want to take it back because you know it’s a bad idea. You’re there to kill someone after all, to exact your revenge, and having Sunoo in that environment won’t be good.

But this child needs you and he needs the light.

“Northern Norway is a country where the sun does not set during summertime, so you do not have to fear for the darkness.” Once upon a time, you spoke of a wish to visit the Land of the Midnight Sun. Norway. It’s funny the way things are piecing together, funny how no matter how much you want to run away from your past, it always seems to catch up to you. “Jungho will come as well, so you do not have to be alone and so he does not have to sleep here by himself.”

“And the others?” He always thinks of the others. Sunoo is a big brother to all the kids and he keeps strong for them so you know he must be worrying about them feeling left out but this is a foreign country you’re visiting to exact revenge. The less kids, the better.

“They will have to stay. Norway will be dangerous, Sunoo,” you tell him half the truth, not wanting to be too transparent but knowing that letting him believe this will be nothing but a vacation and letting him stay naive will not be good for him.

Kids have to know. The more aware they are, the better prepared they will be.

“But maybe in the future, I can allow for field trips in The Academy.”

“Really?” He sounds a bit brighter at the thought.

“Only if I can get stronger,” you tell him. “Though that may or may not happen and if it does, it will be in the far future.”

“Why do you say that, my lady?”

You wipe the tears from his face when he appears to be calming down. “Because there are still a lot of people who underestimate me or see me as a threat and wish to do something about it.”

“Like that lady?”

“Like that lady.” You take the tissue box from his nightstand to hand it to him and watch as he goes on to blow his nose. “So until people learn not to mess around with me, until my name alone brings fear to them, you’ll have to wait to be allowed to do whatever you want.”

“..Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.” You press a hand to his head, smoothing his hair down. “You won’t have to confine yourself in this school anymore. All of you will be allowed to go anywhere you want, whenever you want. No one will be able to mess with you and you won’t have to fear for your safety. Though that comes with learning how to properly defend yourselves. You will do that for me, won’t you?”

Sunoo is quick to nod happily. “I’ll learn to protect myself and I’ll learn to protect my brothers and sisters. And you too, my lady.”

“That’s right. So until then, be a little more patient, alright?”

.

.

.

“You…please tell me you’re joking. You’re bringing children to Norway?” It’s comical the way Seokjin runs his hand down his face as he tries to fathom what you’ve just told him. He looks more stressed than he’s ever been before. “Namjoon’s not going to agree to that.”

“Why does Namjoon’s opinion matter?”

“You never mentioned bringing children to the mission was going to be part of the plan!”

“They aren’t. I’ll just need an extremely safe house where it’ll be hard for anyone to locate to ensure their safety.”

He lets out a long suffering sigh and you want to laugh a little because despite the fact that Seokjin appears to always look calm and collected, he tends to lose his cool easily. He doesn’t get upset but he stresses a good amount. “Why’re you bringing them along in the place?” He asks and you look away.

“I’m not obligated to tell you.”

He grows more agitated. “Don’t tell me you’re going to exploit them into helping you with getting close to Alexander?”

“You think I’m that shallow?” You give him a deadpan expression. “They’re not in any part of the plan. Just think of it as them leaving for a field trip.”

He rests a hand on his temples, takes a moment to breathe as he takes a small lap around a small invisible circle before speaking again. Level headed. “Field trip. Right. As if you aren’t going out there signing your life away to Alexander Larsen!”

Not so level-headed.

He’s losing his cool and you grin at how he tries so hard to keep calm but eventually gives in. “If you’re that worried, why don’t you tag along? Come before the rest of you come when it’s time to take action.”

“I can’t,” Seokjin grunts as he runs a hand through his hair. “Hoseok and Jungkook are already assigned to go with you and I have to stay by Namjoon’s side. He’s a wreck without me.”

“Of course he is.”

He glares your way before continuing. “He’s not going to allow you to take the kids.”

“Come on, Kim Seokjin. You’re the Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon’s right hand man, the only one who can get through to him when his stubborn ass refuses to let anyone talk him down from his decisions.” You give him a small poke on his arm, teasing a bit, and Seokjin takes note of the way you feel a little comfortable touching him even in the slightest bit. “I’m sure you can cool him down once he receives news that I’m bringing Sunoo and Jungho along.”

“Cool him down?” Not even convince him to agree but to cool him down. Meaning you aren’t backing from your decision, and Seokjin close his eyes as he takes in another deep breath, praying to God to allow him to keep his patience because he knows he’s stuck dealing with two stubborn people where one does whatever she wants and the other is easy to rile up when the right buttons are pushed.

And you know just the right buttons to push.

“Good luck buddy, I’ll see you when I see you.” With that, you salute him a goodbye and walk off with a grin plastered on your face.

.

.

.

“Y/N?”

The man Namjoon sets you up to meet in Norway is tall in the figure, with blonde hair combed neatly back, and a black suit to match with piercing green eyes that you’re sure to have probably earned many women in his life to swoon.

He’s quite a looker; handsome and tall and carries an aura of authority.

“Asher Larsen.” You say his name in perfect English and extend a hand out to shake it just briefly.

He takes a seat across from you, brows a bit furrowed, jaws set tight. “I can get you in to meet my grandfather but whatever it is you wish to do is none of my business. That will be the farthest I will do for you.”

“Of course. That’s all I need.”

Asher Larsen, grandson of Alexander Larsen, Karl’s nephew, and an intelligent man amongst the Kingsmen. You aren’t sure what Namjoon’s told him about you or the mission in general but he seems like the type who’ll only care about something that he’s actually interested in. And clearly, whatever you’re doing here, he has no intention of getting involved. He’s probably witnessed a few similar scenes before so he can probably guess what it is you’re after, which makes your job a lot easier.

In London, Taehyung was assigned to stay with you during the majority of your plot. Norway, as Seokjin said, Hoseok and Jungkook are here by your side, but unlike London, you won’t have someone here on your side to give you much aid in the way you had Hyunjin.

Asher is only here to be a bridge. Nothing more, nothing less.

He takes you to a private party that night where you walk in by his side as his guest, and for some odd reason, things already begin to spiral as a commotion is heard not long after your arrival.

“Do you often have your security breached like this?” You turn to Asher who gives you a quizzical expression.

“You mean this wasn’t you?”

“To try and grab your grandfather’s attention?” You laugh a little. “That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think? If it was me behind this, it’d only want him to make an enemy out of me, and that’s not what I’m after.”

No one’s by your side tonight, it’s a private party after all, and though you’re sure your Reapers, along with Hoseok and Jungkook, aren’t too far away for you to leave and make an escape before something goes wrong, somehow you don’t feel the need to run away even when the chandelier from the ceiling falls and shatters glass all over the floor.

“How interesting,” is what you utter when the bright lights of the party fall dim and all that’s left is the light of the dawn sky from above the small, circular glass ceiling.

“Do you care one bit about your safety?” Asher questions you when he sees every other guest making an escape while you remain standing where you’ve been the whole time. He doesn’t look like he’s in a state of panic, and you guess he’s probably used to these things. Who wouldn’t be when you’re born into this business?

“Of course I do, but—”

“You should leave before something goes wrong.” He takes your wrist and pushes you towards the emergency exit, but you just can’t seem to run.

“Asher.” You look around, eyes sharp and quick. “Where’s your grandfather?”

Asher looks exasperated with you. “When things like this happen, my grandfather’s the first to escape. Now—”

“Something’s odd.”

“What’s odd?”

“The party started an hour before we arrived, right? So why was it that the second we walked in, they decided to stop it then? Why when you arrived?” You look towards the entrance door that’s now closed and blocked off, the chandelier that fell at the center of the grand room, just a few feet away from where the two of you were standing.

Luckily no one seems to be on the verge of death and there are people helping some guests leave from a side door, but besides that, there doesn’t seem to be any present physical threat in this room. One might believe they’re not here because Alexander isn’t here but still, you feel an odd sense of something.

You turn back to Asher just as he’s trying to calculate what you just said. “Tell me, Asher, are you someone your grandfather favors?”

“My grandfather doesn’t have favorites.”

“But you are intelligent and a great asset to the Kingsmen.” Just as you said that, you catch sight of a man who had been pretending to help an injured man point a gun towards Asher, who has his back turned to him, and in seconds, you’re rushing to Asher, take hold of the gun he held on the back of his belt, and pierce a bullet straight into the man’s forehead.

Asher turns around, stunned, and you take another man out on the second story of this room.

“You don’t have an extra gun or something, do you? Because we were told not to bring guns to this party.” You flash him an awkward grin but the man only shakes his head.

Well. At least you’re prepared.

Throwing him back his gun, to which he easily catches to eliminate more men, you take your two hairpins that had been holding your hair up this whole time, and use it as your weapon, stabbing along the masked men who have been bold enough to operate on this mission tonight.

Asher and you are an unstoppable force, it’s almost a bit thrilling having the chance to get back into action and overpowering the enemies as if they were simple ants pestering and getting in your way. You forgot how fun this can be after being held up in bed for almost two months, unable to move properly.

Something catches your attention when a lady dressed in a black and white suit stumbles onto her feet with something in her hand, a puppy, and just behind her a long pillar lies, on the verge of tipping over.

No longer watching Asher’s back, you rush over to the scene to pick the running puppy into your arm and grab the woman with your other hand, successfully rescuing them just as the huge cement falls and crashes onto the floor, alerting everyone’s attention.

You simply stare at the dog in your arm. “Behave, will you? Don’t run into danger, that pretty lady was only trying to help.”

It barks and you feel guns pointed straight at you. 

The room falls silent, nothing is heard, and you can’t put a finger on why it is that you’re now the target and they’re ignoring Asher.

Is it the puppy? Is the puppy’s life far more valuable than Asher’s?

“Y/N!” You hear Asher’s call and keeping a firm grip on the puppy, rush to dodge the bullets that fly your way with Asher’s help in shooting down a few of them.

Your body twists and turns, flipping and jumping, doing all it can so that the bullets can only breeze past your skin and not pierce through it, all the while you use your hairpin to stab nearby opponents down with a dog in your hand.

The last of them die against the piercing of your hairpin against their neck, and while you feel eyes on you from the people who were hidden away to hide from the fight, you retrieve the two silver accessories from the enemy’s bodies, wiping their blood on the cloth of your dress, before fixing them back easily into your hair.

The dog licks your face unexpectedly, jerking you from it, and you fall completely silent and stunned at what it had just done.

“Boy, what are you doing to me? You can’t just lick someone like that, even if that is in your nature,” you say, face contoured with disgust as you bring him into your hands and extend your arms out so that he’s unable to continue licking you.

He barks with complaint, and there’s a small snicker that you hear from across the room.

When you turn to look, you’re greeted unexpectedly by the very man you came to meet tonight, standing beside Asher with a few guards next to him.

The little dog twists out of your hand and jumps back onto the floor, rushing over to Alexander who easily picks him up.

Ah. So it was his dog. Now it makes sense why the enemies were after me. The dog’s special to him.

“Are you not used to that?” The old man asks when you pat your hand down onto your dress. His English has a bit of an accent, not too distinct, but he’s not as fluent as Asher is.

“Suddenly getting licked in the face? No sir, I have not.”

“He likes you.” The men beside him move to take the enemies away at Alexander’s head signal, and you watch the way the old man pets the little puppy on the head. “Kiwi doesn’t like just anyone.” Kiwi. “They say dogs are better at judging people than humans.”

What are you supposed to say to that? “...Do they now?”

“Come.”

He turns, with the dog in hand, and you blink.

“Huh?”

But he ignores you to give an order to the lady you reduced under the pillar. “Have a room ready for the lady and send people to tend to her.”

“Pardon me sir, but I can take care of myself. I have a place nearby—”

“My place is closer,” he says, and with that, he’s walking off without letting you have another word in, leaving you to simply stand there with a dumbfounded expression.

When you look at Asher who’s still here, he sends you a shrug, along with a small, amused smile curling along his lips. He looks impressed and he probably is, because you’ve just gotten your chance at speaking to Alexander Larsen without approaching him first.

[mysticmellowlove]

What is being high with yandere sub like? Hcs for that. Does he prefer to smoke or do edibles? Is he touchy? I imagine she isn’t dating him yet so he is alittle worried he’ll slip up.

Also I thought it would be funny if they were getting high and he thinks it’s her first time but she eats like three gummies and smokes half a joint and he’s like “should I do that too?” And she’s like “You will die if you try”

warnings; the good cush, sub yan, gn reader, dom reader, dose safely!

yan sub is the worst when he's high!

so clingy, he needs to be touching at least one part of you. If he's sitting in your lap? Even better.

sometimes he uses weed to just take the edge off and for that reason I see him as more of an edible user, oils maybe if he's feeling up to it. only ever really smokes joints when he's with friends

he likes the social aspect of it.

with you though he definitely wants to be smoking a joint, he gets an indirect kiss that way

i feel that when he's high he doesn't really care too much about how close he is to you, his real desires just seem to come out

he wouldn't go as far as to kiss you if you weren't together

but if you were he would be making out with you like crazy, he would enjoy you breathing the smoke into his mouth

he likes his sex to be pretty intense, he really needs to feel as if you're claiming and marking him so when he's high he just likes to cuddle

soft calming music, a joint or two or some edibles, mood lighting and a cozy blanket is his perfect idea of a late night session

"There's a good boy." You hummed as he took a drag without coughing. His head was on your lap as he passed the joint back to you so you could have some as well. He had a lazy grin on his face as his hand rested on your leg. He wasn't a newbie to smoking but he seemed to be in the wrong headspace to do so. He had been watching you closely ever since he had invited you over.

It would've been weird if he hadn't been trying to subtly get closer to you over the past few weeks. It was laughable actually, he obviously thought he was being sneaky.

"You're doing pretty good, better than I expected." He said as his hand reached out to caress your face. You hummed as he did, your eyes drifting over to the small packet of edibles that he had pulled out for the two of you. You popped another one into your mouth.

"What do you mean?" You questioned as you looked down at him, he wasn't ugly per se. A little roughed up around the edges but there was something about his expectant gaze. The blown out pupils that weren't just because he was high...

"You know, for someone who hasn't smoked before." He looked at you as he pulled himself from your lap. He let his arm dangle around yours as he leaned in impossibly closer. He had always been a little touchy but this seemed to be a little much, or at least it would've if you hadn't expected that there was another reason for him inviting you over.

"I've smoked plenty," You hummed as you let that calming feeling wash over you, dulling the worries of the day as you looked at him before popping another edible in your mouth. The heady taste of the weed mixed with the sweetness of the edible blended perfectly. He seemed to notice the amount you had taken from the small tray he had set up, his head cocking to the side as he looked over before looking back at you.

You grinned and winked at him as you let your hands rest on his hips. He seemed to still for a moment, his breath catching in his throat.

"I think there's a lot of things I'm more experienced in compared to you. How about I give you another example." You laughed as you looked at his wanton look, I mean really... what else could you possibly do with such a desperate looking boy?

[rambleonwaywardson]

Sleepless

A Clegan (Buck x Bucky) one-shot

Summary: Buck and Bucky both struggle with nightmares after the war, but they help each other cope.

Word Count: 2380

Author's note: some hurt/comfort for you all with some fluff at the end. As before, I'm posting here for now, and if I manage to build up a small collection of Clegan drabbles I'll see about putting them on AO3.

--

Bucky can’t sleep. But he could sit and watch Gale sleep for hours. 

They’ve been doing okay, since the war. They’ve had good days and bad days. Good nights and worse nights. Over time, something in both of their minds is slowly, slowly beginning to heal, and the frequency of worse is steadily decreasing. Bucky is proud to say that he can, on average, probably sleep through the night almost every day of the week now. It’s taking time, but he’s getting there. He thinks to himself that he should start keeping track: “nights since last nightmare that made me afraid to close my eyes again…”

Zero.

Tonight, unfortunately, had fallen into the worse category. 

Sometimes, when he wakes up, he can’t even remember what he’d been dreaming about. Sometimes, he isn’t sure that he had a dream at all. Just a feeling, an unease, a fear. Something that grips his mind and soul and just refuses to let go, no matter how hard he tries to shake it off. Funny how in war, in a bomber plane under attack, in a POW camp, in a near-death experience, he didn’t notice the fear so much. It was there, sure; he felt it creeping around in the back of his brain almost every second. But it was rarely all-consuming, and he did his best to push it away. He had to keep going, after all. Had to survive, had to find Gale, had to look after his men, had to make it home. There wasn’t time to let the fear drown him. There wasn’t time to truly think about how terrible, how harrowing, his experiences were in the moment. For the most part, he just had to keep going.

Now, in the aftermath, the fear pops up seemingly out of nowhere and makes him feel sick. He finds that unfair. He’d made it. He beat all of the unbeatable odds and survived. He’d found his way home, made it back to Gale. He isn’t dead no matter how hard the world has tried to do him in. And this is what he gets: he gets to remember it all in clearer detail than he experienced it when it actually happened. He gets to be haunted by it.

He made it home, but part of him is still at war.

Sitting cross-legged on their bed in sweatpants and no shirt, Bucky rests his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. He takes a deep breath. It’s fucking unfair, but at least it’s getting better. At least this is only his first sleepless night in about a week. We can’t win all the time, huh?

Exhausted but unable, unwilling, to close his eyes again, he watches Gale in the dim light of the bedside lamp. It’s fucking unfair, but at least he has this.

Gale is still fast asleep, peacefully laying on his side with his hands tucked up under his head. Bucky’s actual angel in disguise. He loves the way Gale’s messy hair falls down over his forehead and his lips part ever so slightly. The way he curls his legs up towards his chest just the littlest bit. Bucky wants to wrap him up in his arms and hold on forever. He focuses on watching Gale’s breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It reassures him that, no matter what his unconscious mind tries to tell him, Gale is here. He’s the picture of health. He’s alive, and he’s all Bucky’s. He’s not about to get taken away in the blink of an eye. Gently, Bucky reaches out and strokes Gale’s soft hair. Gale smiles in his sleep, and it makes Bucky smile, too. He thinks to himself that he’d do everything over again if it meant he’d end up here.

When he pulls his hand away, Gale scrunches his brow and frowns. Bucky blinks, hand hovering in the air, waiting to see if Gale’s face will soften again. It doesn’t. Instead, Gale starts nervously clenching and unclenching his jaw. Bucky’s heart sinks and he reaches back out, places his hand on the side of Gale’s head again, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Gale’s breathing picks up, faster, faster. He screws his eyes shut tight and makes a soft, wounded sort of grunting sound as one of his hands curls into a tight fist under his face. 

Bucky runs his hand reassuringly over his hair the way Gale likes when he’s awake, trying to calm him down. It takes a minute, but his breathing starts to slow again, and then his eyes flutter open, unfocused and glassy with worried sleep. He scrunches his nose unhappily.

“Hey,” Bucky says softly.

Gale’s eyes find his. He tries to smile, but it’s just not quite there. “Hey.” Slowly, he sits up, the sheets falling down away from his chest so they sit in his lap as he leans forward, hands on his knees. He’s wearing a thin light gray t-shirt, but under it Bucky can see the chain around his neck and the outline of dog tags swinging against the fabric. Bucky is wearing his, too. They still haven’t quite gotten out of the habit. Oddly enough, they both have found that they often sleep better with them on.

Gale scrubs at his face with one hand and brushes his hair back away from his eyes. He checks the clock on the bedside table. 3:30 AM. Looking over at Bucky, he frowns. His voice is low and gravelly from sleep and carries a sort of guilt that Bucky wants to whisk away. “Did I wake you?”

Bucky shakes his head as he picks at the fabric of his sweats. “Was already up.”

“Mmm.” Gale nods and looks down at his lap, takes a deep breath. “What was yours about?”

They’d started doing this recently. Talking about their bad dreams. For a long time, neither of them wanted to give voice to what was in their heads. They wanted to push it away, ignore it, move on. Didn’t want to bug each other with it, add more weight to the burdens they already carried. Lately, though, they’d found that at least briefly putting words to it, saying it out loud to someone who would understand, helped them move forward a little easier. Instead of weighing more heavily on each other, talking about it lifted some of the burden away.

Bucky scratches the back of his head and sighs. “I-” Shit. It never really got easier to talk about, though. “I jumped from the fort, you know? And they were shooting at me, but they didn’t get me. I was still there. But. I looked over.” He glances up at Gale, who is looking vaguely in the direction of Bucky’s dog tags. Bucky breathes. “I looked over, and you were there, too. And I saw you, and I called your name, but you wouldn’t answer me. You wouldn’t answer. And then, I saw that you were dead. Hanging from your chute. A bullet hole through your…”

Bucky trails off, like the breath was pushed all out of his lungs before he could say the last word. He shuts his eyes tight and smacks a fist against his knee. Then there’s gentle fingers on his hand. A thumb stroking over his knuckles. I’m here, the touch says. Bucky nods. He knows. He just wishes his brain would start believing it.

“Mine was about the kid Nazi in the woods,” Gale says. This was one of his more frequent dreams, about the kids who killed George, the kid who pointed a gun at Gale’s head. In the dream, Gale doesn’t give him the chance to run. Bucky knows it by now, but he lets Gale say it anyway. He squeezes Gale’s hand back. Neither of them are looking at each other. Sometimes it’s easier that way. “I shot him,” Gale breathes out. “A kid. Just a kid. And I shot him.”

When Bucky looks up again, Gale is looking right at him, his face a mess of sadness and resignation, searching for something, anything, to make it go away. Bucky leans forward and pulls him in close, wraps his arms around Gale’s shoulders. “You didn’t, though,” he whispers.

Gale nods. “And I’m here.”

“You wanna try to go back to sleep?” Bucky asks him. Gale just about scoffs, burying his face deeper in Bucky’s neck. Bucky laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah, me neither.” He pats Gale on the side and pulls away. “Come on.”

Hand in hand – a tether proving to each other that they’re there, they’re safe, they’re not alone – they walk out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, turning on the lights. Bucky makes a show of how painfully bright they are even as he eyes the liquor cabinet in the corner. Gale shakes his head wordlessly and guides him away from it. He’d been so nervous since they came home, since the nightmares started in earnest, that Bucky would turn to alcohol to numb the pain. Months later, Gale still makes every effort to make sure that doesn’t happen. He’s thankful every day that Bucky tries his best, and that he lets Gale step in as his moral compass when the nights get hard. Bucky has no idea where he’d be by now if Gale wasn’t here with him.

So instead, Bucky pushes himself up to sit on the kitchen counter, fingers tapping nervously on his thigh, while Gale goes about making tea. Bucky never used to like tea, but he isn’t allowed to have alcohol after a nightmare and Gale insisted that coffee wouldn’t help matters either. So he lets him make him tea, and eventually he had learned to like it simply because it came from Gale when he needed Gale most. 

They don’t always wake up on the same nights. Often now, it’s one or the other at a time. And not all the dreams make it impossible to fall back asleep either, thank God. But sometimes, when they’re bad, they’ll wake each other up because they just can’t be alone. It’s an unspoken agreement: it doesn’t matter what they have going on or what time of night it is; if one of them needs the other, they’ll stay awake together. No exceptions. Every once in a while, though, like now, the night turns on both of them. Often, they barely talk on nights like these. Words tend to feel empty; they’ve all already been said. They just need to be. To touch, to feel, to breathe. They just need the closeness and the care. They need each other, and that has to be enough.

Gale hands Bucky a mug full of tea, and Bucky spreads his legs open so Gale can stand between them. Gale tries not to look too intently at the tags dangling over Bucky’s bare chest, and he raises his own mug. “Cheers.”

Bucky half smiles and raises his mug to clink against Gale’s before taking a sip, letting the comforting warmth run through his body. He closes his eyes for a moment and feels the heat radiating from Gale standing in front of him, so close they’re almost touching. When he turns his head and looks out the kitchen window, he can see stars. So many stars, a constant the past few years no matter where on the Earth he’s been. Everything is quiet. He drinks his tea.

After a while, Gale sets his mug on the counter and leans his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky sets his mug down, too, and places his hand on the back of Gale’s head, running his fingers soothingly through his hair. Then, carefully, he slides down off the counter so they’re face to face, and Gale wraps his arms up over Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky rests his head against Gale’s, cheek pressed to soft hair. Gale is not particularly small, but Bucky is still bigger than him, and he takes comfort in being wrapped securely in his arms. Like somehow, Bucky can be a shield, protecting him from all of the bad things in his own head.

When Bucky starts swaying, Gale raises an eyebrow even though his face is hidden in Bucky’s neck. “What are you doing?” he mumbles.

“Dancing,” Bucky says matter of factly. It’s somewhat less convincing because he yawns in the middle of the word and has to say it again.

“Why are we dancing?”

Bucky lifts his head up, kisses Gale’s forehead, and leans back as much as he can so he can look him in the eyes. “Why not?”

Gale rolls his eyes, but he smiles. It’s small, but it’s real, and Bucky smiles back.

They dance all around the kitchen, first just swaying, going in circles to the music in Bucky’s head. Then Gale slips away to put a record on in the living room – it starts on Blue Skies, Bucky’s comfort song – and when he comes back Bucky grabs him by the waist and spins him around. Gale laughs even as he nearly loses his balance and grabs onto Bucky’s arms again. Neither of them are very good, and they’re even worse together, but they do it anyway. And soon they’ve stepped and turned and spun their way into the living room. Bucky has tried to lift and spin Gale around in the air no fewer than three times. Gale has tried to twirl Bucky to no avail, to the point of stepping on each other’s feet and stumbling into each other’s arms. Until eventually, they collapse onto the couch, half laying on one another, and their eyes are still tired but they’re brighter again. 

Bucky crawls forward and kisses Gale softly, slowly, before laying his head on his chest. Gale rubs his hand up and down Bucky’s back, wondering how on Earth he isn’t cold. Gale hasn’t had much tolerance for cold since the Stalag. It feels bone-deep and he often finds himself shivering even when it’s warm, unless he has something covering his body. He takes comfort in the warmth of Bucky’s skin, though, lets it calm his senses as they match their breathing to one another.

The last thing Gale hears before he falls asleep is a whispered, “I love you,” and he smiles.

[cowgurrrl]

okay, so! this relates to the "one for the money, two for the show" series (which is BEAUTIFULLY written btw) but: could you imagine reader hosting SNL while the musical guest is her own husband, joel miller?! iconic if you ask me.

(bonus! the little promos they do for SNL! imagine that but with those two and in-between, they just keep giving each other heart eyes! UGH, i love it personally)

Thank you for this request and your sweet words!! I hope you like this 🥺

Live from New York

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Summary: this ask

Warnings: fluff, not edited

You can’t stop laughing when Joel tells you the news. He thinks you’re insane but you think he’s equally as insane. It isn’t until Violet curiously pass into the room do you get yourself under control. “Did they ask you to do this before or after they asked me?” You question and he shrugs with a guilty look on his face.

“Guess we’ll never know.” He says as he walks over to kiss your cheek, wrapping an arm around your waist and turning to look at your daughter. “Vi Chai, you wanna go to New York?”

The day SNL announces you as the host and Joel as the musical guest, poppy news sources and other celebrities start reposting the image with varying reactions. They’re mostly positive and only add a little bit of extra pressure to the already stressful week ahead. All five of the Miller children, including spouses and grandchildren, join you in New York and you spend the week bouncing between rehearsals, family dinners, and play dates with the kids. On the day of shooting bumper pictures, Joel and his band mess around with different props and poses and you get to watch them work and laugh together. Watching them achieve success as a band has been one of your favorite parts of being married to Joel. That and all your cute kids, you guess.

When it’s time to switch, you take several individual pictures in different costumes and poses, moving every time the photographer tells you to. You catch Joel laughing in the corner when you’re taking a particularly ridiculous one where you’re reenacting a very dramatic scenario Violet and Sophia came up with while playing with Barbies and you can’t stop yourself from laughing too. “You’re distracting!” You yell and he shakes his head, a wide smile splitting his face.

“I didn’t even say anythin’!” He says and throws his hands up.

“I can hear you laughing!”

“God forbid I think my wife is funny.”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and he laughs.

“Yes, dear.”

“Did you guys want to take some together? Since you’re the first married couple doing something like this.” The photographer asks and you raise your eyebrows at him. He shrugs and makes his way back to the mark in front of the camera. Together, you guys pick various poses— some dramatic and some funny, like the ones of you guys showing off your wedding bands— and play off of each other in a way you haven’t gotten to do since he worked on the soundtrack for one of your movies. You make good work individually but when you’re together, it’s magic.

Your favorite and the one that ends up splattered all across social media is taken when you thought the cameras were off and you were wrapped in Joel’s arms. You must’ve told him a joke or a funny story from set or something because he’s throwing his head back, eyes crinkled shut in laughter, but your focus is on him. You’re both smiling, close, and impossibly happy. When the picture gets posted the day of the show, Carolina texts you a screenshot of it with the message, “you guys are so sweet it’s SICK.”

You spend a majority of the day running from sketch to sketch in a final run through while the band and Joel entertained the little kids and you switched off when it was their turn to rehearse. It’s an awkward system but with the older girls and their spouses there, it’s not too hard. By the time the cold open starts, you’re more than ready and drumming on Joel’s chest backstage to get your nerves out.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Joel says but doesn’t interrupt your nervous fidgeting.

“I know.” You say, making him laugh. He kisses you for good luck before scurrying away and letting you do your opening monologue. Sarah and Ellie whistle loudly the second they see you on stage and you blow kisses to them. You run through the rehearsed jokes, talk about how cool it is to have this opportunity, and promote your newest project easily. It feels good to be in front of a live audience and get real time feedback to what you’re doing. You love it even more because you think you can hear Sammy loudly chattering away about his Mommy.

“Now, this isn’t my first time hosting Saturday Night Live but it is my first time hosting it while I’m not pregnant with twins,” you say and cheers erupt from the crowd. “But those twins and my three other children are in the audience tonight so this is going to be a very, very special show.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Joel says, hitting his mark beside you perfectly to even more cheering. It takes about twenty seconds for the audience to die down, it’s that exciting. “That’s the only reason this a special show?”

“I mean, I think we may be the first married couple to be the host and musical guest on SNL.” You say, glancing between him and the camera, as more cheering erupts around you. Together, you make jokes about your unconventional family structure, fame, marriage, and more before transitioning into the next sketch.

You spend a majority of the night running around like a psychotic person but one of your two favorite parts of the night comes when you get to introduce Joel to the world. You stand a little ways away from the stage and face a camera in a zip-up hoodie and a stupid smile plastered to your face.

“Ladies and gentleman, the love of my life, Joel Miller!” You announce and the audience cheers as the camera pans over to him and the band. Joel winks at you before falling into sync with the rest of the band and you get to watch him do what he does best.

Your second favorite part comes when Joel gets to make full usage of his Valley Girl voice for a sketch. He’s high-pitched and elongated his vowels perfectly as he bobs his head around in a wig. Your character is supposed to be having brunch with him and the rest of the band but you keep almost breaking every time one of them does something. Joel thinks it’s hilarious and the hysteria quickly spreads to the rest of the table. The sketch is unsavable the second Ryan comes up to the table as a guest in a blonde wig and identical Valley accent.

The night goes off without a hitch and at the end, with makeup smeared across your face and your body screaming at you to take a break, Ellie, Sarah, Ryan, and Carolina join you on stage as you thank everyone and end the show. Joel is hugging you and spinning you around before you can even fully finish your spiel but you don’t mind. You’re both exhausted and happy and so full of love. You couldn’t imagine doing this life with anyone but him and things like this only solidify that.

That and the fact that even after being together for so long and getting older together, he stills has the strength to carry you home drunk after the after party.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3

[idontplaytrack]

Shotgun

Jos Cleary-Lopez x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, fluff, smoking/weed

In which reader catches Jos smoking for the first time since they’ve started dating.

Fall was approaching— your favourite time of the year. The weather was starting to get chilly, you loved it. Lesser hot weather, lesser sweating. It was all around a better time. Anyway, Jos had been dealing with a cold for the last couple days so while the rest of her family were all out doing some shopping, she obviously stayed home. You decided it was a good time to go visit her. Once you got to her house, you let yourself in since Margot had given you a spare key— you and Jos had been together for over six months at this point.

With a plastic bag filled with her favourite snacks and drink in hand, you gave her bedroom door a knock. “Jos? It’s me.”

There was a few seconds of silence before the reply came, “Come on in.”

She looked a little flustered, you laughed lightly, “Hey, babe. You okay? Feeling any better?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, brows raised for a moment.

“What were you doing?” You narrowed your eyes at her, curious.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, so you mean to tell me you’ve been sitting here all day, doing absolutely nothing.” You sat down, “Brought you your favourite brownie and smoothie.”

“That’s sweet of you, thank you.” She smiled.

“Don’t mention it, it’s nothing.” You told her, “Okay, you do know I can smell that, right?”

Jos’ eyes widened, “Sorry.” Smiling sheepishly, she continued, “I kind of smoke sometimes when I’m stressed out or just having a bad day.”

“That’s okay.” You assured.

“Do you smoke?” She asked directly.

“No.” You answered.

“Weed?” She chuckles.

“No, but I’ve tried it.” You shrug, snuggling up against her. “I’ve missed you.”

She leaned her head on yours, hand reaching over to cup your cheek, “It’s been two days, babe.”

“I know, still missed you though.”

“This— isn’t such a good idea. You might get sick.”

“I don’t care.” You muttered. Despite her mouth disagreeing with you snuggling with her, she ultimately still couldn’t say no to you when you wanted to snuggle.

“Do you mind if I smoke it right now?” She asks, glancing at you.

“No.” You laid your head on her lap, she runs her hand through your hair.

“Okay.” She grins, leaning over to grab it from her nightstand. While she smoked it, you just laid there and enjoyed her company.

“You wanna try it again?” She asks suggestively.

You squinted at her, “Sure.” Reaching out to grab it from her hand.

“Ah, no. Had something else in mind.” She chuckles.

“What?” You ask, a smile tugging at your lips.

“You sure you don’t mind trying it again?” Jos asked.

You nodded, “Yep.”

Jos leaned in, exhaling the smoke into your mouth that was left slightly agape. Then, she kisses you, smiling into it.

Though a little taken aback, you kissed her back before she could pull away that quickly. “And you were the one who said you didn’t want me to get too close.” You gasped, feigning shock.

She giggled, “Well, I missed you too.”

“You’re forgiven.” You joked, “But you’re taking care of me if I get your cold.”

“Gladly.” She squished your cheeks, pecking you on the lips again making you giggle. “You need a break.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Just that you’ve been really stressed for the past few weeks with your part-time job, maybe a day of or two will do you some good, you know, babe?”

“Ugh.” You groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“Exactly. You need a bit of time off.” She tells you while you played with the rings on her fingers.

“I don’t have the time.”

“If you gotta get a cold for you to finally rest, then that’s what it’s gonna take.” She teased.

“Hey! That’s not funny.” You pouted.

“I didn’t say it was.” Jos squints, “But you need to chill on the number of shifts you’re taking on in a week. Please?”

You exhaled harshly, “Fine. I’ll try.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

2 fics in a day? Who am I😗

[winniemaywebber]

A Little Reassurance

an Olive x Dougie blurb.

“Hiya, doll.”

Olive stops stacking glasses and turns towards the voice. There stands handsome James Douglass, finally back in a clean uniform. Skin sunkissed, cheeks red and glowing from both the slight sunburn and the blush that forms over his face whenever he’s in Olive’s presence.

“Hi, honey,” she replies, leaning over the bar to kiss him. “Oh, you’re so cute. Sunburnt cheeks and all.”

He titters in response, his eyes nervously closing as his nose scrunches, that sweet smile still lingering. “I went to find you at the truck but Tattie said I might find you in here instead. Something about you needing to help in here for the day?” “Yeah,” she sighs, moving along the bar to polish the glasses that were left out to dry. “Poor Dennis caught the flu, so he’s laid up in the sick bay for the foreseeable.” “I didn’t realize it would be down to you girls to help, is all.” “Oh, I don’t know if it is. I mean, he gives most of us free booze a few nights a week, it’s the least I can do in return.” 

“Understood,” James nods, shifting from one foot to the other. He watches Olive as she polishes pint glasses one by one and precariously stacks them together, seemingly not having the same careful touch that Dennis does. One, then another smash on the floor with a clatter, the glass shards bursting all over the polished floor. 

“Well, shit,” Olive breathes, hands rubbing her temple. With a short exhale, she rushes to find a broom, only to have it taken off of her by Dougie. 

“Knew you’d find out my secret soon enough,” she laughs, crouching on the floor to retrieve the bigger pieces of glass. “I’m very clumsy.” “Hey, it’s okay. When we live together, I’ll help out. Lot less smashed glasses that way, I think.”

She stands, brow softly furrowed, questioning if she’d heard him correctly. “When we–when we what?”

“N-nothing,” he replies, shaking his head. She rests her hand on top of his to stop the broom moving, taking his chin so he’ll look her in the eye.

“Say that again.” “What again?” “What you just said.” “I said, when we live together–”

She silences him with a deep kiss, her fingers still gripping his chin. “I knew you’d said that. I just wanted to hear you say it again.” They get back to cleaning, a pinkness now about both of their cheeks. 

“Thank you for helping me,” she begins. “Hey,” her voice now a whisper. “Fancy a sneaky midday beer?” “I’d love to. But I’m working,” he winks, that twinkle appearing in his pretty blue eyes. “And so are you.” “Nobody would know!” she protests, holding a pint glass in front of him. 

“They would with you. One drink and you’re a giggly cute mess.” “I can’t help it if I’m a lightweight!” “Sometimes I think that’s how I got you to laugh at me so easily that first night we met. You had three Old Fashioneds in you by the time I whipped out the lighter joke.”

She cackles again, remembering the punchline and the flourished flick of the zippo in demonstration. “It was funny! You’re very funny.” “Yeah,” he sighs. “Sometimes I think that’s the only thing I’ve got going for me.” Olive stops, her eyes narrowing. “Are you looking for some reassurance?” “Y-yes,” he stutters out. 

Olive understands. She saw his face drop when she had touched Pappy on the arm, laughing at his silly jokes. He was a fun guy to be around, and they had clicked on some jovial level that Olive had never found before. They’d bonded over a common shared surname, Pappy Lewis now going around base, showing off that Olive was obviously his dear cousin once, twice, thrice removed. But it was the platonic arm touch that had irked James Douglass, a past hurt rearing its ugly head at a time where he should feel happiness.

“Okay,” she starts, leaning over the bar, her chin on her hand to look up at him. “It isn’t all you have going for you. You’re kind, you’re gentle, you’re sweet. You’re so very funny that I find myself laughing until I’m hoarse. You’re safe, warm, caring and soft. You’re everything a man should be, and boy,” she pauses, mockingly blowing upwards at her face. “What a man you are, James Douglass.”

“Thanks,” he says, practically swooning at Olive as she stares up at him through those long lashes. “I promise I won’t ask for that often.” “My darling,” she says, taking his hand. “You can ask for that as much as you like and I will always be prepared to answer and to soothe your worries, hm?” He nods, his eyes suddenly sad. “I don’t know the full story,” she carries on, “and maybe I never will. But know this: I will never do what she did. I will never be unfaithful, my eye will never wander. I’ll never not be your girl. You’ll always be the only guy for me.” He leans over to meet where she is, cupping her face so she is eye level with him and kisses her so tenderly that it takes her breath away. “Gosh, I love you, Ollie.” “I love you too, sugar. Now, how about that beer?”

[captainnameless]

Any cute moments with Maxy and Leo? Any moments that stand out? Maybe when Maxy first gets Leo? I just need to cute Maxy moments to make me fell better (my work didn't tell me that I didn't need to come into work far an advent until 30 after I was to be picked up)

Max is fresh out of a nap, soft and flushed, pressed into Daniel’s side.

He’s playing with one of Daniel’s hand, tugging gently at the fingers before wrapping both his hands around Daniel’s and holding it close.

There’s a content buzz that vibrates through Daniel, ready to spend eternity right here in this moment when it dawns on him that Max doesn’t have anything to soothe with when he’s not here.

“Muffin,” Daniel hums, using his free hand to brush Max’s hair off his forehead. “would you like it if we got you something to cuddle when Daddy isn’t here?”

The suggestion of Daniel not being here sours Max’s face just a tad, his lip jutting out in a pout. “Stay.”

Daniel pokes it, a soft smile on his face. “Right now, I’m not going anywhere. But,” He moves slightly, sitting Max up too, still keeping his hand available. “For when I’m not? I could get you something to keep you company, huh? Or do you want to pick something out yourself?”

“You.” Max says, trying to focus on what Daniel is saying, still kind of groggy. “You pick.”

“Okay,” Daniel breathes. Okay.

He gets it wrong the first time, it’s some sort of baby toy that’s soft, yes, but it’s tiny and Max isn’t sure what to do with it so it lays abandoned to the side and get tossed out of bed during nap time.

They’re streaming YouTube onto the TV when the add pops up. Max is too engulfed in the football match that’s being streamed to notice but Daniel has got the app open and orders it right then and there.

They don’t see each other for a week after that, and Daniel’s sort of nervous to get it to Max, hoping he’ll like it.

Daniel wishes he recorded Max opening the box, just so he could make sure to never forget the look on his face but it feels to private.

“Leeuw.” Max breathes, eyes twinkling, both of his hands twisting into the soft fur.

“Leo?” Daniel asks, mishearing, but a soft amused smile on his face, figuring Max naming the plush must mean he likes it.

“No, leeuw.” Max says, then shakes his head. “Uh, lion. Dutch.” He looks up, a soft flush spreading over his cheeks, fingers gently kneading into the plush.

“Oh,” Daniel nods, works on keeping the soft smile up, trying to look encouraging. “Yes, a lion. Made me think of you.”

Max looks from Daniel back down to the plush, before looking back at Daniel with wet eyes, sucking in a breath.

Oh no.

“Hey, Max- muffin.” Daniel rushes forward, sitting down next to Max to wrap an arm around him. “It’s okay, it’s- Don’t worry about it, we can return it and try again. I’m sorry-”

“No.” Max rushes out, crying now, bringing the plush up to his chest before turning to bury his face into Daniel’s chest. “No, I like it.”

Daniel’s confused now, but that’s not a priority. He wraps both his arms around Max and pulls him onto his lap so he can properly hold him, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head as he lets him cry. “What’s wrong, bub?”

“It’s making me feel funny.” Max cries, burying closer. “I don’t know.”

“A good funny?” Daniel asks, rubbing a hand down Max’s back and feeling him nod.

“A bit overwhelming, maybe?”

Max nods again, his breath catching in his throat.

“Oh buddy,” Daniel soothes, holding Max a bit tighter, pressing another kiss to Max’s head. It’s taken them a while to get to this point, this point of understanding. This level of trust, of love and care.

“I’m happy.” Max cries, he emerges from Daniel’s chest to catch his eyes, a chuckle escaping him through the tears. “I am.”

Daniel smiles back at him, thumbs at the tears. “I believe you.”

“It’s just,” Max takes a deep breath, wipes at his own face. “It means so much.”

Daniel has to blink a bit himself, pulls Max close again. “It means a lot to me too.”

-

It’s 48 hours later, 2 naps and 2 nights with their new addition and Daniel makes sure he sprays his cologne on the little lion before he leaves.

He gets a text when he’s boarding.

Leo smells like you.

Daniel smiles. Leo?

I liked that when you suggested it.

Daniel’s about to respond when

Even if it was just you and your old man ears mishearing me.

Daniel snorts. Old man ears? Watch your mouth.

Max types for a while, then stops, then types again.

Thank you.

Daniel smiles. For what?

For being you. Max types back. And getting me Leo.

Max sends a picture then, of him and Leo, a goofy smile and wide eyes.

I love you. Daniel types back, chest warm and fuzzy.

Love you!

And then.

🦁 💓 👴🏻

[screams-in-writing]

Had to split this ask up into screenshots in order to answer each bit of it more easily (some of it got longer than expected), and to do a little bit of writing at the end.

It’s probably because I enjoy the thought of flustering Mr. Puzzles, because it seems like he’d have great reactions due to more than likely being touch-starved/ so focused on his chosen goal that Puzzles might be taken aback/in disbelief that there could be someone interested in him not only as a friend but as a romantic partner as well. But I do feel that as soon as Puzzles is more used to that kind of interaction and feels that he could possibly deserve it, he’d be more open to showing genuine affective instead of teasing and disregarding feelings to try and distance himself from being hurt.

But to the next part; Yes yes yes, especially when Mr. Puzzles lowers his voice. He most certainly would, at this point, be on better terms with the reader if he feels that he can go through with such an idea and he’d be all in. He probably even wear that lip biting face from the new episode when he thinks about it because I feel that would be funny and possible concerning to anyone around him if he’s not thinking about flustering the reader when alone.

Debating whether to have it become a joke about him staying at the abandoned house just to make it sound so much more ominous and dangerous than it it is meant to be. But at this point int he relationship mr puzzles would be more easily be able to get the reader to come with him to ‘hang out’ which normally in-fic would eventually be them watching some movies that mr puzzles hadn’t seen, helping with scripts for the podcast the reader is a part of above the cafe reader (and Mr puzzles) work at or when they’re trying out a relationship just, cuddling on the sofa while doing their own thing but mr puzzles soaking up the attention and physical contact like leaning against one another or holding hands. Makes him giddy to have all that attention to himself.

And it’s 💯 effective for him to do that, since at this point, the reader knows how dramatic mr puzzles can be, so the door being locked abs the lights going out isn’t as intimidating as if would have been, say, the first few weeks of knowing him. Reader doesn’t know what the man’s planning but as soon as puzzles starts using that low voice of his reader doesn’t care what’s planned as thoughts go bye bye. pls, continue to serenade me with your lower voice puzzles, and those occasional growls at the ends of words. There’s No getting away or avoiding admitting that puzzles voice does affect reader. Especially when the touches begin andter mr puzzles does make certain reader is good with the scenario happening and oof man’s gonna go all in with his voice, just to see what happens, and oh, does puzzles like the effect that he can have on you. He’ll definitely want to do this again. It’s delightful to be on the control side of the flustering.

Static fuzzy kisses and nuzzles with the screen of the tv my beloved. Man’s being able to be charismatic and charming with the confidence back due to the reader’s positive response toward him. It’s exhilarating and can see why the reader likes to fluster him. And mr puzzles would sure take his time up to this point. on one hand, it’d be hilarious to have reader just fall down out of pure shock because what in the world was all that? where was the shyness and uncertainty from before??

Here’s just a lil bit more, since I’m already giggling and kicking my feet over the ask alone and the thoughts that it got me thinking about it.

-

Mr. Puzzles was very close to you, the static tickling your skin, the warmth of the screen nice.

You don’t think he anticipated that you’d end up collapsing onto your backside. But it had been so unexpected for him to suddenly be so forward like this, and you end up lying flat on your back. Flushed, you couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh. “My, falling for me this time around, my dear? How flattering!” Mr. Puzzles looked pleased with himself for causing such a reason. Then, with a surprisingly hooded look flashing across the screen, Mr. Puzzles lowered himself to the floor, lanky limbs bracketing you on the floor. There was space for you to wiggle away should you need. “Shall we have a repeat preformsdw of that? For prosperity?”

You wordlessly reached up to seize his shoulders to encourage Puzzles to lean over.

“I think I much like this; to fluster you in return.” A low, low chuckle as Puzzles whispered sweet nothings to you as he leaned in indulgently for another ‘kiss’, pressing the edge of the screen gently against your cheek. “I enjoy it a lot.” Mr. Puzzles voice ended with a low growl to it.

“Stop that.” You tried futility as you swatted his shoulder.

“No, I don’t believe I will.” Mr. Puzzles teased lightly as he rested his metal tv head alongside yours, a grin taking up the screen. His hands lightly trail along your shoulders as you lightly grip his in response. “That blush really suits you-“ The screen pressed to the side of your head, the low growling tone back, deep and pleased. “-when I put it there myself.”

[moonlit-midnight]

Secret Night Rendezvous

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech.

Genre: AU, Platonic Fluff, Friendship.

Summary: Wherein the nurse who’s in charge of you caught you in your secret little date with your two best friends.

Warnings:

Reader is a female and has an illness.

Set in the real world and the boys are humans.

—

Upon feeling a heavy weight resting on your delicate shoulders, you stirred slightly in your hospital bed.

You didn’t need to check what was weighing on you because this had been occurring for the past two weeks since you were hospitalized.

Leaning on you were your best friends, Azul on your right and Jade on your left, comfortably snuggled against you.

“Seriously guys, will it kill you both if you sleep at home?” Letting out a groan, you slowly fluttered your droopy eyes open.

“Yes, it would. It’s a heinous crime sleeping at home these days.” Jade lifted his head, glancing at you.

“Hah! Very funny.” You scoffed at his dramatic response.

“Jade and I know how much you hate it when you’re here all by yourself.” Azul stated, smiling softly at you. “We informed your parents that we’ll be looking after you this evening.”

Upon hearing Azul’s remark, you returned a big smile and engulfed him into a hug.

He knew you too well.

“Don’t I get a hug too?”

Pulling away from the blue-eyed boy, you turned to your left side.

The sight of your other best friend pouting like a whiny child was absolutely adorable causing you to burst into giggles.

Jade might appear intimidating due to his misleading standoffish aura, but he was actually a gentle being.

His soft side and sweet affection was only reserved for his family and closest friends, especially you.

“Of course you do, big baby.” Chuckling lightly, you wrapped your arms around him in one of your warm hugs.

Jade returned the hug, but he didn’t give you his usual tight hug.

He had been very careful when holding you whether it was you embracing him first and vice versa.

Recently he noticed how a little bit exhausted you became, and it honestly pained him to hold you in that state.

“Are you afraid I might break?” Noticing Jade’s stiff body, you withdrew from your long hug, a teasing spark glimmering in your eyes.

“What? No, I just…” The teal-haired boy stuttered, lowering his gaze.

Laughing shortly, you landed a friendly punch on his sturdy shoulder.

Jade was notorious for masking his bewildered expressions very well.

Up to this day, seeing him a flustered wreck and a stuttering mess was truly a funny sight to behold.

“Our dear friend isn’t weak.” Azul ruffled your disheveled hair fondly.

He then got up from the bed, motioning you and Jade to follow his lead.

“Are we going on a secret date?” You grinned, face lit up with glee.

“Yeah, let’s go on a little adventure before you sleep.”

“Are you sure about this?” Jade asked, voice laced with worry.

“I took a long nap in the afternoon, so I’ll be fine. We won’t be gone for long anyway.” You assured him with a kiss on his cheek.

After the two boys helped you wear your shoes, Azul covered your head with his scarf while Jade wrapped his oversized jacket on you, hoping not to be seen by any passing medical staff.

Fortunately nobody payed attention to you, and the boys were able to distract the guards, so it was another successful sneak out.

Once outside the hospital, you linked your arms with your friends and together you ventured into the quietness of the night.

★ —

You were a nineteen year old patient, diagnosed with Leukemia at the age of seventeen.

You surely were a strong young lady, a fighter, capable of looking after yourself, but sometimes you needed to be taken care of.

Although you felt like a burden, your two best friends always assured you that you weren’t a deadweight.

They actually liked looking after you and taking care of your wellbeing.

After all, Azul and Jade weren’t just your longtime close friends.

They were a family to you, a happy one at that.

★ —

“Try this one.” Azul handed you a wavy, ash blonde wig.

Until now it was still fresh in his memory when you told him during your elementary days that you wish to dye your hair ash blonde once you reached high school, but due to your illness, you didn’t have the chance to do it.

You were losing some hair, so you took advantage of wearing wigs.

They looked good on you, and you could simply pull off any color especially the natural ones.

“Aww,” You eyed the wig with a sentimental look.

“It’s the only color you haven’t tried yet, and you always wished to dye your hair ash blonde.” Azul smiled warmly before putting the wig on your head.

After adjusting it properly and tying it into a cute messy bun, you headed to the accessory section where Jade was waiting.

“Look at yourself, you gorgeous woman! Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?” Jade shot you a boyish grin, adoration twinkling in his beautiful eyes.

You playfully slapped his arm, smiling in delight at his comment.

“Sit, I want to try these on you.” Jade gestured you to sit on the stool situated next to the showcase of various hair accessories.

However, before he could put one of the pretty hairpins on your wig, a figure towered behind you.

“Well well, if you aren’t on another nightly escape for the third time this week, where else could you be?” A middle-aged woman said in a low yet intimidating voice.

The three of you turned around only to be met by the stern nurse who was in charge of you.

None of you were surprised of getting caught.

The nurse was aware of your big love for hair accessories, so no doubt she knew that you were in the store located nearby the hospital.

“She’s not escaping, Miss. We’re on a night adventure.” Azul scowled.

“Don’t provoke her and just run.” You muttered, grabbing the two boys towards the exit.

The nurse chased after you, but she was no way near catching you.

The three of you were very fast, given the fact that you used to be soccer players at school during your elementary years.

The boys found it strange how the strict nurse witnessed your little shenanigans a few times, but she never reported it to anyone.

She let you be because she knew how tiring it was being cooped up in your room all day long.

★ —

Azul and Jade were having the best time of their lives being chased.

You were getting a little tired. Your limbs felt like jelly noodles, but you didn’t complain at all.

You were actually having fun too and enjoying the thrilling excitement.

You ran like you owned the long hospital hallways.

With the two boys holding you firmly, you felt like you were flying and their supporting hands were like a pair of wings.

“I don’t like getting in trouble, but I don’t mind getting in trouble with you.” You smiled at Azul and Jade, your heart brimming with joy.

Out of all the not-so-secret nightly dates you had with them nearby the hospital, this one was your favorite.

Call it a misadventure or whatever, at least your two favorite boys in the world were by your side and that’s all what mattered.

[threewaywithdelusion]

I Would've Liked To Know You: Max

(Warning for major character death (Steve) that occurs before the fic starts, implied/referenced child abuse (Max, nothing on page). This is set in 2002).

Max got the stranger who had given her a ride to drop her at the edge of the cemetery. Her cell phone rang ��� probably Lucas again, wondering where she was — and she switched it off. She couldn’t handle talking to him. Not yet. 

She made the walk across the fields of the cemetery from memory, pulling her coat closed around her. It was early October and it was chilly in Hawkins. She’d forgotten, since moving to California, how cold it could get here. 

Max passed the part of the cemetery where she knew Billy was buried, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. 

She kept going until she reached the far corner of the cemetery. It had been described to her before — the headstone was under a huge tree, which bloomed with flowers in the spring. She ran her fingers over the letters carved into the rock, confirming she was in the right place. 

Steven James Harrington

November 13, 1966 - September 17, 1986

Son, friend, hero

She had long since memorized the words on the headstone.

Maybe she should’ve felt guilty, visiting Steve and not Billy, but she didn’t. Because Steve was more her brother than Billy ever had been. 

She folded her cane and took a seat on the grass, a foot away from the headstone. 

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Max said. That was a lie. “I mean, I know a little. I didn’t, like, run away and board a flight from California and then take a bus down here from Indianapolis for no reason.”

Max fiddled a bit with her cane, folding and unfolding it. She hadn’t said it out loud yet. Had barely admitted it to herself. 

But she’d come all this way to talk to Steve, dammit, so she was going to get her shit together and do it. 

“I’m pregnant,” she said. She gave a little laugh. “You’re the first one to know. I haven’t even told Lucas yet.”

Her phone felt heavy in her pocket. She hadn’t told Lucas where she was going. She’d taken the pregnancy test in a pharmacy bathroom and then had to ask the teenage girl behind the checkout counter to tell her if there were two lines. The girl had said yes, sounding judgmental. Which was maybe fair given that all she knew was that Max was in the kind of situation where she was taking pregnancy tests in a public bathroom when she couldn’t even read the stupid results. 

Max had gone home, not slept for a week straight, then picked a fight with Lucas and run away, all the way from Los Angeles to Hawkins. 

“I’m, uh. I don’t know if you can feel time passing, but I’m thirty-one. This isn’t a teen pregnancy or anything, and Lucas has a job and we haven’t broken up in years. It’s not… it’s- I should be ready for this.”

Max cleared her throat. The wind was blowing, cutting through her jacket and making the trees rustle. Max hated trees. She hated forests. They all made her think of the Upside Down. She loved the never-ending concrete of Los Angeles, the only nature the beaches and the ocean that she still loved.

When she was in California, it was easier to pretend that everything that had happened in Hawkins had been a bad dream. That she and Lucas were fine and normal and had never killed or fought or watched loved ones die. 

“I’m scared,” Max admitted. “My dad left and my mom tried, but she was never good enough. Neil yelled and Billy hurt me and how the fuck am I supposed to take that kind of upbringing and believe I’m someone who can care for a kid?”

The funny thing was that even without the monsters, Max would have been fucked up. She’d had to explain it to Lucas — how when he was silently angry it was worse, because she kept waiting for the moment he’d snap. How he could put down a plate too hard and she’d flinch, scared he was about to grab her or shove her around. How an empty fridge made her heart clench, even after years of always being able to afford food. 

She wasn’t fit to raise a baby. Especially not Lucas’s kid, who should have everything good in the world. Lucas would be an amazing dad, would play games with the kid and teach them basketball and tell stories while doing funny voices, like he did for his DnD characters. 

Max knew he wanted a kid. She also knew he hadn’t said anything because he knew she wasn’t ready. That she might never be ready. 

And then fate or a broken condom had gone and put her in this situation anyway. 

“I thought about getting an abortion,” she told Steve. Maybe it was fucked up, but it was easier to talk to Steve’s grave. Steve had been so patient with her when she’d been a teenager, always offering to listen to her problems, and she’d turned him down time and time again, staying silent and refusing to let him help her. 

“But I couldn’t do it. I don’t want to be a shitty mom, so maybe it’s the right thing to do. But I keep trying to picture my kid for some reason. And I see this little girl with warm brown eyes and my round cheeks and Lucas’s huge smile and some part of me wants that. I want to have a baby that’s half me and half Lucas and I want to do right by her.

I was lying awake, trying to figure out what I wanted to. Thinking about my shitty childhood. And then I thought of you.”

Max set her cane down in the grass, smiling faintly at Steve’s headstone. 

“I thought of the way you drove me around and patched up my skateboarding injuries and bought me milkshakes when I was said or angry but didn’t want to talk. I thought of the groceries you bought me when Mom was too drunk to remember or when there wasn’t enough money, even though I never asked and always said I didn’t need your charity. And you fucking saved my life, over and over again, like that’s a normal thing to do. You jumped in front of a demodog for me when you hadn’t even known me for a day. You didn’t even know my name.”

There was a lump building in Max’s throat, tightening so much that it hurt to talk. But she had to. It had been so hard to start and now the words were just spilling out.

“We always used to call you Mom, and we were teasing. Making fun of you cause you were some popular basketball guy but you also heckled us about our manners and picked us up from school and shit. And you acted all offended, but I saw you smiling a few times. You liked it,” she told the headstone accusingly. “You liked being our mom.”

The headstone didn’t say anything, but Max knew that if Steve were here he would be denying it, committed to the bit that he wasn’t their parent, just a reluctant babysitter. 

Max cleared her throat. “And I was thinking… God, you were just a fucking kid. Like, I’m thirty-one and I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. And you were nineteen, with seven kids and a monster dimension under your feet and you were still a good mom. So like, I guess I didn’t just have shitty parental figures in my life.”

Max glared at the headstone, as if daring it to judge her for being emotionally vulnerable. Not that Steve would have done that, even if he hadn’t been a bunch of bones in a coffin buried under the grass she was sitting on. 

Steve would have probably been proud. 

“So I’m gonna do all that shit,” Max said. “Drive the kid around and kiss her boo-boos and buy her milkshakes when she’s feeling bad. All the things that you did. And I guess maybe that means I can be a mom.”

She blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek. She wanted to swipe it away, but she didn’t. Steve deserved to be cried over. 

They’d all moved away from Hawkins. Max only saw the town these days in her nightmares. But Steve’s grave was still here and sometimes it felt like they’d abandoned him. Even if there wasn’t a him left to abandon. Even if he would’ve wanted them to go, to escape this helltown and chase better lives elsewhere. 

He’d been gone sixteen years. More than half her life. 

It hurt to miss him still. 

“I wish you were here,” Max whispered. “I wish I could talk to you for real. I wish you could tell me I’m not crazy for thinking Lucas and I can do this.”

Max let herself fall apart a little bit, crying over the future that would never happen. Steve would never come watch the baby so she and Lucas could go on a date night or finally get some sleep. He would never get to be the fun uncle, or the one her kid ran to when they were pissed at her and Lucas for some teenage drama. To her, he would never be anything more than a memory. To her child, he would never be anything more than a story about a long-dead stranger. 

Max leaned forwards so she could touch the headstone, running her fingers over the letters that spelled out Steve’s name. 

“You would’ve made a great Uncle Steve,” she whispered. 

She bowed her head against the gravestone for a moment, resting her forehead against the cool rock. 

Then she stood, wiping the tears off her cheeks and the grass stains off her jeans. She extended her cane and made her way out of the cemetery, pausing by the gates to turn her cell phone back on. 

It kept dinging with missed calls, but Max ignored that, dialing a number by heart. 

“Max?” Lucas’s voice was warm and concerned and so full of love that she almost started crying again. 

“Lucas,” Max said. “I’m in Hawkins. I, uh, I had to talk to Steve.”

Lucas was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Are you okay?”

Max nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay. I’m coming home.”

[radiowallet]

Hi Cat! I was searching for Funny Girl and saw it was taken down and my heart sank… but then I saw the announcement about you publishing it!! Congratulations, that is soooo exciting and I can’t wait. Life got in the way and I never did manage to catch the last chapter, so I’ll be first in line to buy it when it’s out.

This might be odd… but my book club is reading a book right now that was published in April 2023, a full YEAR AFTER you started Funny Girl on here… and the story is so close! I’m only part of the way into it, but all I can think of is your Dieter. What the hell? It’s called Romantic Comedy and is literally about an SNL (called TNL in the book) writer and a guest host.

You wrote Funny Girl first! And your published book isn’t coming out until this year… did this author rip you off??

I hope this isn’t upsetting in anyway-your writing is superior and I hate to think someone took your idea and published a best seller 😭😭😭

Regardless, your Funny Girl (tumblr version) was complete perfection, and I have full confidence that your upcoming version will be a masterpiece!

❤️❤️❤️😘😘😘

Lola!!!! Hi my friend! It’s so good to hear from you!

Thank you for the support in The Funny Girl. I’m actually working on edits now (it’s due to my editor in a couple weeks).

I have heard of Romantic Comedy! It’s been on my TBR for a while but I didn’t want to read while I reworked Funny Girl into a useable story. But rest assured, nothing foul is going on at all. Publishing a book traditionally takes years so chances are the author of that book had pitched it long before I ever thought of FG. Are you enjoying it? I can’t wait to read it!

I will say, after seeing there was another SNL themed book out there, it did give me an opportunity to make big changes to The Funny Girl that I’m so happy with. It’s a different story than the one you remember, but hopefully you still enjoy it and the love I’ve given to it.

Thank you again for this ask. It made me smile ❤️

[thecameronchronicles]

Two Weeks

TW: kidnapping, false imprisonment, language, smut, obsessive behaviors. Hints of Dark JJ, Dominant JJ. 

SUMMARY: JJ Maybank has had enough of watching you from the sidelines. He takes you for himself, convinced he can make you happy if just given the chance, but tensions suggest otherwise…

WORD COUNT: 3200

*Requested*

Two Weeks

Day one. You awoke this morning, completely unaware of what was about to transpire. The usual happy-go-lucky girl you were, not an intentional enemy made in your eighteen years on Earth, you hadn’t noticed the way his eyes had followed you through the extent of the day. With errands satisfied from your mental checklist, you were now looking forward to being able to recline for the rest of the day in the upcoming Pogue Party. Much more favorable than those thrown on Figure Eight, you preferred them as the atmosphere was light and free, conversation and laughter replacing music from overpriced speakers, while those in attendance made it that much more enjoyable. 

And the afternoon did exactly what you needed it to. Careless fun around those you called friends, wrapped around a stoked fire set outside The Chateau, you would carry your eventual focus back home before hearing the shift of nature at your back. Convinced you were just being paranoid, you offered a glance over each shoulder before continuing forward, quickening your steps in the process. This continued for some time before that empty darkness that left you relaxed to know you made more out of it in your head than what was reality, was now suddenly filled with a figure. 

You weren’t able to distance yourself even a foot in an attempted sprint before he had taken hold of you. In your tries to scream, they were silenced with a wide hand wrapped across your mouth as his impressive upper body strength made it impossible for you to break free. You would be taken into the back of a van, held down onto your stomach and tied flat, unable to make out any detail aside from the smell of marijuana that lingered, which wasn’t uncommon for The Cut, before the car set in motion. 

When it had finally stopped, you were taken back onto your feet, the fiery threats you’d made of someone coming to look for you and whoever this was not being able to get away with it, you were guided over a set of steps and ultimately stored in a distant room once being led through a series of hallways. As the door closed, you were removed of the makeshift blindfold made from a bandana and given a moment for your eyes to adjust before you saw him. 

“JJ?” You spoke his name in complete disbelief as you couldn’t bring yourself to understand his actions. He was usually a means for laughter, not fear-and certainly not kidnapping, and yet, you were the product of your assumptions being proven wrong. You had even lit your first joint with him, and he was before you now actually brandishing an expression of care despite the fact he had taken you by force. 

“What the hell, JJ!”

“I just…I couldn’t take it anymore, okay-” He was now on his feet, running his hands through his wild hair, worsened into a further state of disarray by this shift. Those usual light blue eyes that you found trusting once upon a time, were darkened with angst and conviction. 

“I don’t care, J-Let me go! This isn’t funny-”

“Sorry sweetheart…But…you’re not going anywhere…” And with this, he closed you behind the door and kept you this way as the first day of your incarceration had come to pass. 

Day Two began despite your lack of sleep. While left alone by his actions, you had tried for anywhere within the room that could work to your benefit; a weapon, an exit, even a distraction. But you were kept within this abandoned building, in this cold room, with nothing but your thoughts. It was only just after dawn that your door would come open to reveal him as he held breakfast in hand. 

“Wasn’t sure what you liked-”

“I would LIKE to go HOME!” He ignored you and moved closer to you with the plate as you granted him that close proximity before using your feet to kick its contents on the floor. 

“Go to hell.” You spat before watching him picking up the broken plate and the toast and eggs left in disarray, he abandoned you without a word, before keeping you in this state of isolation once again until the later hours of the evening. 

“Do you want to shower?” Your eyes narrowed at him. 

“Is THAT what this is? You wanted to see me naked?”

“No!”

“No?” He suddenly became flustered. 

“I mean-I just, shit, I just want you to be comfortable here…” You scoffed as you held up your wrists. 

“Comfortable would mean free.”

“I can’t take those off until I can trust that you won’t go.”

“Fine. I won’t.” You held out your hands as he cocked his head. 

“Wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart.” 

“UGH!” And this would close out the second day as he left you to rage in silence.

Day Three was met with silence. In any attempt he made to feed or care for you in any similar capacity, you rivaled him by giving him the cold shoulder. It made for a long day that bled slowly into the fourth. 

Day Four. By now you were so beyond hungry that the only thing that remained had been pain in place of fear. And this time, he would leave the plate just inside of the door and leave without a word. 

But when you had fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion in place of being actually able to rest, you opened your eyes to find him at your side, eyes fixated on how peaceful you had appeared to him. For just a moment, you admired him in this instance as he had to you. You couldn’t help it by the way the slits of moonlight allowed to him had accented him to appear a vision of perfection. 

It was a way you had always seen him but never acted on as you believed he was only ever a friend. Yet your admiration quickly returned to hostility as he leaned closer to you, mouth parting as if to speak, and eyes descending your body with that carnal need you were aware he’d felt by the shift he would make once his pants were forced tighter by your affect on him. 

For this, you closed out day four with a correction of your positioning and forcing your back to him and making yourself sleep. 

Day Five began later as you had slept in. But when you did wake, you found the binds of your hands to have been removed. Marks where they ate into your skin had remained, making you rub them for any sense of soothing to the ache, before you moved towards the door. For a moment, you questioned if he’d taken pity on you and simply left you to walk out the front door on your own, an inquiry left lingering as you tried the handle and found it to open. But in the attempts to remain stealthy, the creak of the door gave you away immediately while JJ appeared on the other end of the corridor. 

“You NEED to eat…There’s pancakes on table-”

“What do you want? Do you just get off on this or something? This a routine thing every weekend for you?”

“No…”

“Then what, JJ?! WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!”

“You.” He confessed, the simple worded response having thrown you so far back you couldn’t even craft anger as a response. 

“I know this isn’t right, okay. I know that it isn’t going to make you like me or even trust me, but I don’t care…I just…I couldn’t take the way they looked at you…the thought of anyone else being with you-”

“Isn’t your decision!” You interrupted as he slowly nodded. 

“Jesus JJ, what’s your plan exactly? To keep me here until I’m starved or too exhausted to care?” Your expression suddenly darkened, “Or fight back-” He took an immediate step forward. 

“I would never hurt you! But I had to be close to you…” He bowed his head as you surprised him by quickening your steps until you stood just before him, breath teasing his lips. 

“This close enough?” His jaw clenched to your challenge as his eyes darted to your lips. 

“Well it’s as close as you’re gonna get.” To this you rolled your eyes and returned to the room, slamming the door at your back and remaining here until the next day approached through those slits of the broken binds. 

Day Six and you wondered just HOW long this would continue. Until stockholm syndrome set in? Until you caved? Until he got tired of fighting you and just forced himself on you? The ideas made you increasingly irritated, something that was worsened by your lack of satiation in all things. Lips left dry and throat raw, stomach in pained twists, you spent the majority of this day in the fetal position from the effects of this before the door came open when you hadn’t cursed against him or thrown one of the book she left you hard against the wall, which acted as an alarm for him in the last few days. 

“You need to eat!” He spoke in desperation, carrying a piece of toast to your lips as you rejected him. 

“Please!” He begged as the scent of buttered toast left your mouth watering-or at least the simulation of it as you were well into dehydration and dizzy because of it, borderline hallucinating, before succumbing to your effects. When you awoke on the morning of the seventh day, an IV set at your side, your eyes came to an unconscious JJ, whose eyes flew open once he heard your motions. 

“Are you a doctor now?” You asked as he let out a sigh. 

“I have a cousin who's a paramedic, I borrowed some things…You scared the hell out of me…So PLEASE just…eat something…”

“I’ll eat when I go home-”

“You’re NOT going home! Not until you see that I can take care of you! That we can be good together! So dammit, eat something!” He threw down a protein bar before slamming the door closed at his back, leaving you until the end of this night to return and switch out your IV bag. 

“You annoy all the other girls that you’ve had to resort to this?” You questioned as he allowed your words to distract him for only a minute before he’d turn to leave, suddenly countering before turning to you. 

“I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t take it back, you know.”

“So breaking the law, it means nothing-”

“Not when you mean more…” His words silenced you as you were left stewing in their meaning while the next day approached. 

Day eight and nine were spent outside of this bedroom as he’d allowed you to move freely-or as freely as you could with every door and window secured with locks only he had keys to. Yet despite the confines, you saw the effort he had put into making you comfortable, not that it changed your treatment of him. 

"We don't exactly have TV, but there's board games, and I have some weed-"

"Of course you do…" You muttered as he motioned to the plate on the counter. 

"But first, eat." You only crossed your arms as you had consumed the protein bar out of poor desperation, but would not grant him the chance to care for you or for you to accept anything he offered. 

"So help me if you don't, I'll tie you to the goddamn bed and make you!" He suddenly charged. "It's good for fuck sake! So sit and eat it before I lose my patience!" He belted as you cowarded to him, accepting your fate, and succumbing to your hunger as you sat in silence and consumed the sandwich left for you. 

"Now which one?" He asked while pointing to the display of board games left for you. With a shift of your eyes to the window, reminding you that you had nowhere else to go, you ended up mindlessly choosing Monopoly. 

Hours into the game, you were able to forget of your circumstances, even sharing a few laughs before winning the end of the game with an immature belting that he admired far too long. His eyes kept onto you as you began to adore the way he focused on you. Never before had anyone cared about these small details and it frightened you that you favored it because the lengths he had gone to were wrong, and yet, nobody else had done as much as returned a text prior to him. 

Day ten through twelve played out the same with meals and games shared, only this time with the game having been more of a truth or dare. You learned details about his family that you could relate to within your own and an outlook of life with a lack of responsibility and pressure that you survived for as well. Both lovers of all things aquatic, you spoke of surfing and swimming, your ideal days, before ultimately bonding despite your attempts to otherwise. But as you began to ease in his presence, cross words exchanged more for jokes and attempts to be cruel now turning civil, something within him began to change. He became more distant. He became cold.

Day thirteen you were left completely alone. Not even the smell of saltwater and weed that accompanied him had remained as you anxiously awaited for him to come back. But once he hasn't, you would have no choice but to sleep from exhaustion, awakening some time between dusk and dawn to the sound of your door coming open. 

 "JJ?" But just as quickly, it slammed closed. You were quickly to hammer against it, finding it locked as you beat your fists against its decrepit wood stained with age and previous battering. 

"God, I hate you!" You cursed finally as the door was suddenly unlocked. But only once you had been eased by your outburst having been expedited had you heard a satisfying click. After a moment's hesitation, you pulled it open to find him in the hallway. 

"Go…"

"What?" 

"It's all you've asked for for two weeks…so go…"

"J-"

"GO!" It was only now when he looked up at you that you noticed the bruising on his face and the split of his lip now wearing dried blood. 

"What happened-"

"Not your problem, princess…But for whatever it's worth, I AM sorry about all of this.. I just thought it would make a difference…Just go…" He moved to the couch, head in his hands while you moved to the door, finding the locks removed. 

Even though the weight off of your chest had been lifted. You were anything but at peace as you looked to how troubled he was only a few feet from your freedom. And suddenly, you didn't want that escape. You wanted to ease him. 

"What are you-" Suddenly you were on your knees between his legs, in sympathy, all to garner his attention. 

"I don't agree with any of this, okay? But…But nobody has ever done anything remotely caring for me…nobody but you. You were my first hit, my first friend here…and I just want to know so I can understand-"

"You don't have to say it. Okay. Just go back home and tell them. I'll be waiting here.."

"Them? Who?"

"The cops…I kidnapped you, you almost died and, fuck! All I wanted to do was show you I could akoe care of you-its all I've wanted to do. When those assholes from Figure Eight tried to spike your drink that night so I did this to make sure you were alright and then it-" Any remaining reservation became swallowed as you moved against him, hands to his cheeks as you kissed him. 

He spoke your name in a confused whisper as those broke away your kiss. 

"Take care of me then, JJ…please…" Tears in your eyes broadcasting how his confession had touched you, he pulled you over him and into a straddle before falling quickly into a rhythm of passionate kisses. What you believed to be a selfish endeavor of carnal imprisonment had been for your protection and all you had done was be cruel. For that, you wanted to make up for it now. 

With a hand to his chest, you moved back down onto your knees as he watched you in anticipation. Those does eyes remaining set at his own, you watched his roll in pleasure as he was taken behind your lips. 

"Goddamn…" He grunted, fingers wrapping in your hair as he groaned to your acceleration. 

"Fuck!" He suddenly hissed as you took his balls in your hand, kneading the sensitive and heavy sacks before driving your lips to savor their weight. 

"Come here-" You were taken to your back on the couch, clothes forced clean from your hips, as he had your ankles set at the height of his ears until he lowered into you. 

"Take care of you…gonna take such good care of my girl…" The words amplified the heat of the moment between you as you nodded before watching him sink into you. 

"JJ-Oh my God!" He continued to bob his head, desperate motions made against your clit for a release before the sudden pull through his hair made by you had stopped him. 

"I wanna come with you inside me, J! Please, I need you!" His expression lessened in disbelief as he pulled you into him with a kiss, moving ever so slightly until you gasped at the sudden pressure of his cock inching slowly inside of you. 

Cursed of unison became a prelude to moans and grunts as he began a steady pace inside of you. 

"Harder, JJ, please!" You whimpered while he appeased, the sound of skin-to-skin contact bring the only thing to interrupt those sounds of pleasure. 

"Jesus, sweetheart-"

"Make me come JJ, I'm so close! I’M SO FUCKING CLOSE!" He was desperate to please you, needing you to know the lengths he'd go to with you simply needing to ask. And it was shown in these movements. Quick but deep thrusts made as his finger abuse your clit in swift motion as you were spilled over him. 

"Use me, JJ. Use me to make yourself come…I wanna make you feel good-" He breathed in disbelief as you took yourself back over his lap, riding him as his hands directed your hips in a roll. 

"Come inside me, JJ…please! You feel so good!" 

"Ugh, sweetheart-"

"I know you're close J! Give it to me…please baby-"

"Ahh…"

"I want it!" You clenched.

"Fuck!"

"JJ!"

"Shit!" He belted finally his load releases within you as he sat winded yet satisfied. 

"I swear to God princess, I am going to make you so happy."

You moved to him, supplying one final kiss before nodding. "Then let's start by getting out of here…" You teased as he bobbed his head in agreement, starting a rather unorthodox conception to what would become a beautiful and fulfilling relationship…

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