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eyrieofsynapses · 4 months

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why Aurora's art is genius

It's break for me, and I've been meaning to sit down and read the Aurora webcomic (https://comicaurora.com/, @comicaurora on Tumblr) for quite a bit. So I did that over the last few days.

And… y'know. I can't actually say "I should've read this earlier," because otherwise I would've been up at 2:30-3am when I had responsibilities in the morning and I couldn't have properly enjoyed it, but. Holy shit guys THIS COMIC.

I intended to just do a generalized "hello this is all the things I love about this story," and I wrote a paragraph or two about art style. …and then another. And another. And I realized I needed to actually reference things so I would stop being too vague. I was reading the comic on my tablet or phone, because I wanted to stay curled up in my chair, but I type at a big monitor and so I saw more details… aaaaaand it turned into its own giant-ass post.

SO. Enjoy a few thousand words of me nerding out about this insanely cool art style and how fucking gorgeous this comic is? (There are screenshots, I promise it isn't just a wall of text.) In my defense, I just spent two semesters in graphic design classes focusing on the Adobe Suite, so… I get to be a nerd about pretty things…???

All positive feedback btw! No downers here. <3

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I cannot emphasize enough how much I love the beautiful, simple stylistic method of drawing characters and figures. It is absolutely stunning and effortless and utterly graceful—it is so hard to capture the sheer beauty and fluidity of the human form in such a fashion. Even a simple outline of a character feels dynamic! It's gorgeous!

Though I do have a love-hate relationship with this, because my artistic side looks at that lovely simplicity, goes "I CAN DO THAT!" and then I sit down and go to the paper and realize that no, in fact, I cannot do that yet, because that simplicity is born of a hell of a lot of practice and understanding of bodies and actually is really hard to do. It's a very developed style that only looks simple because the artist knows what they're doing. The human body is hard to pull off, and this comic does so beautifully and makes it look effortless.

Also: line weight line weight line weight. It's especially important in simplified shapes and figures like this, and hoo boy is it used excellently. It's especially apparent the newer the pages get—I love watching that improvement over time—but with simpler figures and lines, you get nice light lines to emphasize both smaller details, like in the draping of clothing and the curls of hair—which, hello, yes—and thicker lines to emphasize bigger and more important details and silhouettes. It's the sort of thing that's essential to most illustrations, but I wanted to make a note of it because it's so vital to this art style.

THE USE OF LAYER BLENDING MODES OH MY GODS. (...uhhh, apologies to the people who don't know what that means, it's a digital art program thing? This article explains it for beginners.)

Bear with me, I just finished my second Photoshop course, I spent months and months working on projects with this shit so I see the genius use of Screen and/or its siblings (of which there are many—if I say "Screen" here, assume I mean the entire umbrella of Screen blending modes and possibly Overlay) and go nuts, but seriously it's so clever and also fucking gorgeous:

Firstly: the use of screened-on sound effect words over an action? A "CRACK" written over a branch and then put on Screen in glowy green so that it's subtle enough that it doesn't disrupt the visual flow, but still sticks out enough to make itself heard? Little "scritches" that are transparent where they're laid on without outlines to emphasize the sound without disrupting the underlying image? FUCK YES. I haven't seen this done literally anywhere else—granted, I haven't read a massive amount of comics, but I've read enough—and it is so clever and I adore it. Examples:

Secondly: The beautiful lighting effects. The curling leaves, all the magic, the various glowing eyes, the fog, the way it's all so vividly colored but doesn't burn your eyeballs out—a balance that's way harder to achieve than you'd think—and the soft glows around them, eeeee it's so pretty so pretty SO PRETTY. Not sure if some of these are Outer/Inner Glow/Shadow layer effects or if it's entirely hand-drawn, but major kudos either way; I can see the beautiful use of blending modes and I SALUTE YOUR GENIUS.

I keep looking at some of this stuff and go "is that a layer effect or is it done by hand?" Because you can make some similar things with the Satin layer effect in Photoshop (I don't know if other programs have this? I'm gonna have to find out since I won't have access to PS for much longer ;-;) that resembles some of the swirly inner bits on some of the lit effects, but I'm not sure if it is that or not. Or you could mask over textures? There's... many ways to do it.

If done by hand: oh my gods the patience, how. If done with layer effects: really clever work that knows how to stop said effects from looking wonky, because ugh those things get temperamental. If done with a layer of texture that's been masked over: very, very good masking work. No matter the method, pretty shimmers and swirly bits inside the bigger pretty swirls!

Next: The way color contrast is used! I will never be over the glowy green-on-black Primordial Life vibes when Alinua gets dropped into that… unconscious space?? with Life, for example, and the sharp contrast of vines and crack and branches and leaves against pitch black is just visually stunning. The way the roots sink into the ground and the three-dimensional sensation of it is particularly badass here:

Friggin. How does this imply depth like that. HOW. IT'S SO FREAKING COOL.

A huge point here is also color language and use! Everybody has their own particular shade, generally matching their eyes, magic, and personality, and I adore how this is used to make it clear who's talking or who's doing an action. That was especially apparent to me with Dainix and Falst in the caves—their colors are both fairly warm, but quite distinct, and I love how this clarifies who's doing what in panels with a lot of action from both of them. There is a particular bit that stuck out to me, so I dug up the panels (see this page and the following one https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-30/):

(Gods it looks even prettier now that I put it against a plain background. Also, appreciation to Falst for managing a bridal-carry midair, damn.)

The way that their colors MERGE here! And the immense attention to detail in doing so—Dainix is higher up than Falst is in the first panel, so Dainix's orange fades into Falst's orange at the base. The next panel has gold up top and orange on bottom; we can't really tell in that panel where each of them are, but that's carried over to the next panel—

—where we now see that Falst's position is raised above Dainix's due to the way he's carrying him. (Points for continuity!) And, of course, we see the little "huffs" flowing from orange to yellow over their heads (where Dainix's head is higher than Falst's) to merge the sound of their breathing, which is absurdly clever because it emphasizes to the viewer how we hear two sets of huffing overlaying each other, not one. Absolutely brilliant.

(A few other notes of appreciation to that panel: beautiful glows around them, the sparks, the jagged silhouette of the spider legs, the lovely colors that have no right to make the area around a spider corpse that pretty, the excellent texturing on the cave walls plus perspective, the way Falst's movements imply Dainix's hefty weight, the natural posing of the characters, their on-point expressions that convey exactly how fuckin terrifying everything is right now, the slight glows to their eyes, and also they're just handsome boys <3)

Next up: Rain!!!! So well done! It's subtle enough that it never ever disrupts the impact of the focal point, but evident enough you can tell! And more importantly: THE MIST OFF THE CHARACTERS. Rain does this irl, it has that little vapor that comes off you and makes that little misty effect that plays with lighting, it's so cool-looking and here it's used to such pretty effect!

One of the panel captions says something about it blurring out all the injuries on the characters but like THAT AIN'T TOO BIG OF A PROBLEM when it gets across the environmental vibes, and also that'd be how it would look in real life too so like… outside viewer's angle is the same as the characters', mostly? my point is: that's the environment!!! that's the vibes, that's the feel! It gets it across and it does so in the most pretty way possible!

And another thing re: rain, the use of it to establish perspective, particularly in panels like this—

—where we can tell we're looking down at Tynan due to the perspective on the rain and where it's pointing. Excellent. (Also, kudos for looking down and emphasizing how Tynan's losing his advantage—lovely use of visual storytelling.)

Additionally, the misting here:

We see it most heavily in the leftmost panel, where it's quite foggy as you would expect in a rainstorm, especially in an environment with a lot of heat, but it's also lightly powdered on in the following two panels and tends to follow light sources, which makes complete sense given how light bounces off particles in the air.

A major point of strength in these too is a thorough understanding of lighting, like rim lighting, the various hues and shades, and an intricate understanding of how light bounces off surfaces even when they're in shadow (we'll see a faint glow in spots where characters are half in shadow, but that's how it would work in real life, because of how light bounces around).

Bringing some of these points together: the fluidity of the lines in magic, and the way simple glowing lines are used to emphasize motion and the magic itself, is deeply clever. I'm basically pulling at random from panels and there's definitely even better examples, but here's one (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-16-33/):

First panel, listed in numbers because these build on each other:

The tension of the lines in Tess's magic here. This works on a couple levels: first, the way she's holding her fists, as if she's pulling a rope taut.

The way there's one primary line, emphasizing the rope feeling, accompanied by smaller ones.

The additional lines starbursting around her hands, to indicate the energy crackling in her hands and how she's doing a good bit more than just holding it. (That combined with the fists suggests some tension to the magic, too.) Also the variations in brightness, a feature you'll find in actual lightning. :D Additional kudos for how the lightning sparks and breaks off the metal of the sword.

A handful of miscellaneous notes on the second panel:

The reflection of the flames in Erin's typically dark blue eyes (which bears a remarkable resemblance to Dainix, incidentally—almost a thematic sort of parallel given Erin's using the same magic Dainix specializes in?)

The flowing of fabric in the wind and associated variation in the lineart

The way Erin's tattoos interact with the fire he's pulling to his hand

The way the rain overlays some of the fainter areas of fire (attention! to! detail! hell yeah!)

I could go on. I won't because this is a lot of writing already.

Third panel gets paragraphs, not bullets:

Erin's giant-ass "FWOOM" of fire there, and the way the outline of the word is puffy-edged and gradated to feel almost three-dimensional, plus once again using Screen or a variation on it so that the stars show up in the background. All this against that stunning plume of fire, which ripples and sparks so gorgeously, and the ending "om" of the onomatopoeia is emphasized incredibly brightly against that, adding to the punch of it and making the plume feel even brighter.

Also, once again, rain helping establish perspective, especially in how it's very angular in the left side of the panel and then slowly becomes more like a point to the right to indicate it's falling directly down on the viewer. Add in the bright, beautiful glow effects, fainter but no less important black lines beneath them to emphasize the sky and smoke and the like, and the stunningly beautiful lighting and gradated glows surrounding Erin plus the lightning jagging up at him from below, and you get one hell of an impactful panel right there. (And there is definitely more in there I could break down, this is just a lot already.)

And in general: The colors in this? Incredible. The blues and purples and oranges and golds compliment so well, and it's all so rich.

Like, seriously, just throughout the whole comic, the use of gradients, blending modes, color balance and hues, all the things, all the things, it makes for the most beautiful effects and glows and such a rich environment. There's a very distinct style to this comic in its simplified backgrounds (which I recognize are done partly because it's way easier and also backgrounds are so time-consuming dear gods but lemme say this) and vivid, smoothly drawn characters; the simplicity lets them come to the front and gives room for those beautiful, richly saturated focal points, letting the stylized designs of the magic and characters shine. The use of distinct silhouettes is insanely good. Honestly, complex backgrounds might run the risk of making everything too visually busy in this case. It's just, augh, so GORGEOUS.

Another bit, take a look at this page (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-15-28/):

It's not quite as evident here as it is in the next page, but this one does some other fun things so I'm grabbing it. Points:

Once again, using different colors to represent different character actions. The "WHAM" of Kendal hitting the ground is caused by Dainix's force, so it's orange (and kudos for doubling the word over to add a shake effect). But we see blue layered underneath, which could be an environmental choice, but might also be because it's Kendal, whose color is blue.

And speaking off, take a look at the right-most panel on top, where Kendal grabs the spear: his motion is, again, illustrated in bright blue, versus the atmospheric screened-on orange lines that point toward him around the whole panel (I'm sure these have a name, I think they might be more of a manga thing though and the only experience I have in manga is reading a bit of Fullmetal Alchemist). Those lines emphasize the weight of the spear being shoved at him, and their color tells us Dainix is responsible for it.

One of my all-time favorite effects in this comic is the way cracks manifest across Dainix's body to represent when he starts to lose control; it is utterly gorgeous and wonderfully thematic. These are more evident in the page before and after this one, but you get a decent idea here. I love the way they glow softly, the way the fire juuuust flickers through at the start and then becomes more evident over time, and the cracks feel so realistic, like his skin is made of pottery. Additional points for how fire begins to creep into his hair.

A small detail that's generally consistent across the comic, but which I want to make note of here because you can see it pretty well: Kendal's eyes glow about the same as the jewel in his sword, mirroring his connection to said sword and calling back to how the jewel became Vash's eye temporarily and thus was once Kendal's eye. You can always see this connection (though there might be some spots where this also changes in a symbolic manner; I went through it quickly on the first time around, so I'll pay more attention when I inevitably reread this), where Kendal's always got that little shine of blue in his eyes the same as the jewel. It's a beautiful visual parallel that encourages the reader to subconsciously link them together, especially since the lines used to illustrate character movements typically mirror their eye color. It's an extension of Kendal.

Did I mention how ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL the colors in this are?

Also, the mythological/legend-type scenes are illustrated in familiar style often used for that type of story, a simple and heavily symbolic two-dimensional cave-painting-like look. They are absolutely beautiful on many levels, employing simple, lovely gradients, slightly rougher and thicker lineart that is nonetheless smoothly beautiful, and working with clear silhouettes (a major strength of this art style, but also a strength in the comic overall). But in particular, I wanted to call attention to a particular thing (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-12-4/):

The flowing symbolic lineart surrounding each character. This is actually quite consistent across characters—see also Life's typical lines and how they curl:

What's particularly interesting here is how these symbols are often similar, but not the same. Vash's lines are always smooth, clean curls, often playing off each other and echoing one another like ripples in a pond. You'd think they'd look too similar to Life's—but they don't. Life's curl like vines, and they remain connected; where one curve might echo another but exist entirely detached from each other in Vash's, Life's lines still remain wound together, because vines are continuous and don't float around. :P

Tahraim's are less continuous, often breaking up with significantly smaller bits and pieces floating around like—of course—sparks, and come to sharper points. These are also constants: we see the vines repeated over and over in Alinua's dreams of Life, and the echoing ripples of Vash are consistent wherever we encounter him. Kendal's dream of the ghost citizens of the city of Vash in the last few chapters is filled with these rippling, echoing patterns, to beautiful effect (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-14/):

They ripple and spiral, often in long, sinuous curves, with smooth elegance. It reminds me a great deal of images of space and sine waves and the like. This establishes a definite feel to these different characters and their magic. And the thing is, that's not something that had to be done—the colors are good at emphasizing who's who. But it was done, and it adds a whole other dimension to the story. Whenever you're in a deity's domain, you know whose it is no matter the color.

Regarding that shape language, I wanted to make another note, too—Vash is sometimes described as chaotic and doing what he likes, which is interesting to me, because smooth, elegant curves and the color blue aren't generally associated with chaos. So while Vash might behave like that on the surface, I'm guessing he's got a lot more going on underneath; he's probably much more intentional in his actions than you'd think at a glance, and he is certainly quite caring with his city. The other thing is that this suits Kendal perfectly. He's a paragon character; he is kind, virtuous, and self-sacrificing, and often we see him aiming to calm others and keep them safe. Blue is such a good color for him. There is… probably more to this, but I'm not deep enough in yet to say.

And here's the thing: I'm only scratching the surface. There is so much more here I'm not covering (color palettes! outfits! character design! environment! the deities! so much more!) and a lot more I can't cover, because I don't have the experience; this is me as a hobbyist artist who happened to take a couple design classes because I wanted to. The art style to this comic is so clever and creative and beautiful, though, I just had to go off about it. <3

...brownie points for getting all the way down here? Have a cookie.

#aurora comic #aurora webcomic #comicaurora #art analysis #...I hope those are the right tags???#new fandom new tagging practices to learn ig #much thanks for something to read while I try to rest my wrists. carpal tunnel BAD. (ignore that I wrote this I've got braces ok it's fine)#anyway! I HAVE. MANY MORE THOUGHTS. ON THE STORY ITSELF. THIS LOVELY STORY #also a collection of reactions to a chunk of the comic before I hit the point where I was too busy reading to write anything down #idk how to format those tho #...yeet them into one post...???#eh I usually don't go off this much these days but this seems like a smaller tight-knit fandom so... might as well help build it?#and I have a little more time thanks to break so #oh yes also shoutout to my insanely awesome professor for teaching me all the technical stuff from this he is LOVELY #made an incredibly complex program into something comprehensible <3 #synapse talks

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exhaslo · 28 days

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Corruption Ch15

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship? drug use

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Fifteen Days Until D-Day

"I'm going to have you run and get my morning coffee," Miguel said with a most devilish smirk on his face.

Aaron rolled his eyes as he showed his upmost disgust towards his hated boss.

"Why me and not your assistant?" Aaron questioned, trying to find out where you were.

"(Y/N) has her own matters to take care of. That of which have nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. But, if you truly must know, (Y/N) has been sent to shop for an upcoming event I need her ready for. Does that please you?"

"Sure,"

Aaron just grumbled as he took Miguel's order and proceeded to leave his office. What an asshole, but at least you were going to be no where near Miguel. This worked out perfectly for Aaron. Today was the day his plan was going to be set in motion.

--------

Miguel couldn't resist laughing as he watched Aaron on the cameras, cussing and complaining. What was he to expect? Aaron was the one who put himself in this situation by threatening to quit if he did something as small as this.

Miguel loved being petty and putting people in their place.

It's what they deserve.

Sitting back down on his chair, Miguel reviewed the notes on the last experiment he had with your blood. Finally, there was a success with no horrible side effects. Miguel was just letting the test subject roam around in his cell for any thing to happen.

Right as he was going to tune in on the test subject, you called. Miguel's eyes sparkled for a moment as he answered the video call, wondering what were you going to show him now.

"Miiiiiguel, are you sure I can pick something from here? Everything is so...fancy," You whispered, showing him the price tag, "And expensive!"

"Of course. You are my date to the Share Holders Party next month. I want you looking as perfect as you can be."

"Sooooo....my Spider Suit?" You whispered, giggling into the camera. Miguel couldn't refuse a chuckle,

"Clever, but no." Miguel smiled, watching you pout, "I don't care for the price. Just take your time and pick something you'll like that matches my suit."

"Okay," You pouted once more, "I'll send you pictures of the dresses I try on. Let me know which one you like~"

Miguel cocked a brow as you hung up. Oh, how you tempted him. Miguel was going to bully you when he becomes perfect. No matter how much you cried and begged him to stop, Miguel was going to make sure you thought of nothing but him.

"Shit,"

Just thinking about you becoming a moaning mess got him hard. These frequent sessions of pleasing each other kept getting more and more dangerous. Miguel almost fucked you the last time you gave him a blow job.

Miguel would never admit these feelings. He had to remember that this was all just a ploy to get you to carry his child. To get you to stop playing hero. All of this was so that Miguel could have you as his trophy wife.

"(Y/N)" Miguel cussed lowly as he beat against his cock.

Feelings? The term was foreign to Miguel. Yes, you were attractive. Yes, you were always on Miguel's mind. Yes, you made Miguel do things he wouldn't...but surely, that wasn't love. This was all just Miguel's body acting on instinct...right?

Right???

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Aaron made his way back to Alchemax, humming lowly as he held the large coffee in his hand. As he walked, Aaron skillfully reached into his pocket and proceeded to stop at a red light. He undid the lip of the coffee and poured the contents of his pocket into the drink.

"A taste of your own medicine."

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Miguel was in the middle of working on a new project for his father when Aaron returned. Not even a mutter of thanks, Miguel took the coffee and proceeded to drink from it. Noticing Aaron still in the corner of his lab, Miguel scoffed.

"You may leave,"

"What? No paperwork needed to be done? No meetings to schedule?" Aaron mocked. Miguel felt a headache form,

"As if you could replace (Y/N). Leave." He hissed.

Drinking more of his coffee, Miguel started to get frustrated again. Why did others have to piss him off? Hearing his phone go off, Miguel sighed in thanks for the distraction. He pulled out his phone and proceeded to smile at your photos.

Right when Miguel went to text you, he felt another headache form. This one stronger than before. Groaning at the feeling, Miguel felt something else wrong. His body felt like it was on fire. In pain. As if he took something he shouldn't.

"Fuck, Lyla, scan the coffee." Miguel cussed, pouring the liquid into one of his machines.

"Sir, there are traces of Rapture in the drink!"

"Ese maldito pequeño- (That fucking little-) LYLA! I want EVERYONE out of this goddamn building before I kill that brat." Miguel spat.

"But sir-"

"I don't CARE! Set the fire alarm off!"

Miguel fell on his knees as he started cursing up a storm. How dare he get exposed to Rapture by a peasant. Miguel could not have any drugs in his system. Every little thing could affect his future child with you.

Trying to think as his vision blurred, Miguel groaned. Everything was spinning and started to morph. This drug was powerful. It was impossible to cure. Rapture clings to the DNA itself, making it one with the person.

"DNA, that's it."

Having a brilliant, yet dangerous idea, Miguel hurried to his labs as everyone fled the building. He winced in pain, holding onto his side as he entered the lab with the genetic splicing machine.

"A failure when mixing in other DNA to humans...but human DNA to human DNA should have no effect on the machine...but cure me as well," Miguel muttered to himself.

Once the input was correct, Miguel strapped himself to the machine. This had to work. It had too.

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Aaron watched as everyone fled the building due to the fire alarm. He knew better since by now Miguel must have figured out his drink was laced with Rapture. Before Aaron left, he couldn't help by notice that the elevator stopped on the floor with the labs.

Deciding to make his way up, Aaron soon noticed Miguel in his own lab messing with his genetic splicing machine. Aaron couldn't help but over hear and grew angry. All this time, his coworkers could have had the chance to be cured.

Miguel was truly a villain.

Hurrying inside while Miguel wasn't paying attention, Aaron stood by the controls. He saw the input set to 'human' and cussed lowly. Typing away on the computer, Aaron chuckled lowly as he changed the input to 'spider'.

"Since you love Spiders so much, I hope you enjoy being one." Aaron chuckled as he turned the machine on.

In that moment, right when Miguel was hit with the laser, there was a large explosion. Aaron yelled as he was flung back, hitting the wall in the process. A low groan escaped his lips as he tried to get up, wondering what happened.

There, in the middle of the lab, Miguel stood.

Fangs.

Talons.

Everything that screamed monster. Aaron let out a yell as he tried to run, but he was not fast enough. Miguel appeared before him, taller than before. Buffer than before. More intimidating.

It was at this moment, Aaron knew...he was fucked.

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Something went wrong. No? Something went right. Miguel coughed from the explosion, feeling more powerful than before. His vision was still adjusting to the smoke and lights, while his earing grew more keen. There was someone else in here.

Glancing towards the wall, Miguel noticed Aaron. His red eyes sparkled as he appeared before the fool. Miguel felt stronger than before. He felt like he could run marathons.

"What did you do?" Miguel asked with a hiss, feeling fangs poke at his lower lip.

"You're half Spider you freak. Now there's no way (Y/N) will ever see you as a human." Aaron was just digging his own grave.

Half -Spider?

Oh, this was music to Miguel's ears.

"I don't think (Y/N) will care once I fuck the idea out of her mind," Miguel said with a smirk as he grabbed Aaron by the collar, "Oh? Didn't want to hear that? Well, (Y/N) has been riding my dick for months. You never had a chance with her."

Oh, the look of pure despair on Aaron's face. Oh, how Miguel loved it. To break someone down. To have them realize that they were never a match for him. It made things so much more fun!

"Now, for lacing my drink. I must terminate you."

"Can't, I already quit." Aaron said, his words trembling.

Miguel raised a brow as he listen to Aaron's silly plea. His phone was going on, most likely you calling. Poking his head to the side, Miguel noticed the window in the lab. The explosion had broken it. What a shame.

"Guess I'll have to find another way to terminate you."

"What-"

Miguel roared in laughter as he listened to Aaron's screams as Miguel tossed him out the window. As if Miguel was ever going to let him live after nearly damaging his body.

Well, he did make it up in the end. Grabbing his clothes, Miguel proceeded to have Lyla make another explosion. He had a part to play. Before leaving the building, Miguel made sure that the lab with your blood was completely gone and the work erased.

There was no need for it now.

Miguel got what he wanted.

Finally reaching outside, Miguel pretended to cough from the smoke. He watched as the fire fighters hurried to place the flames out, while police questioned about the explosion.

"Miguel! Miguel!" You cried out, hurrying over, "I was so worried! What happened, are you okay?!" You asked, tears threatening to spill.

Miguel just smiled since you didn't come as Spider-Woman. You were behaving quite nicely. Wrapping his lab coat around your shoulders, Miguel smiled as he rubbed your head.

"I'm fine. Looks like someone messed with my genetic splicing machine and blew the place up." Miguel lied, watching you close your eyes to his touch, "Heard someone died."

"Oh no!" You gasped. Miguel chuckled lowly, stroking your cheek some more,

"But, nothing that could have been done."

"But-"

"Nothing," Miguel said firmly, his eyes orbs staring into yours, "Shit, this sun is so bright." He cussed.

You tilted your head as Miguel groaned lowly. He rested his head against your shoulder, causing you to call the EMTs over. Miguel tried to complain, but was growing a headache from the light. You frowned, rubbing your thumbs gently against his eyes,

"Maybe the smoke got to you. Just sit down and relax, okay?"

Miguel grunted in response, holding your hand firmly. He had to run some tests on himself to see what exactly changed in his DNA. Obviously, you didn't have fangs or talons. So Miguel had to make sure he won't hurt you when mating you.

"Miguel?"

"I'm okay,"

Miguel sighed softly as he rested his head against your shoulder. He needed to rest. There was plenty of time for everything. His tests can run later. Right now, Miguel just needed to let his body rest from the sudden change.

Then...He was coming for you.

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Next Chapter

Lol, I hope some of you noticed Aaron's role. In the original comics, Aaron was a jealous coworker who messed with the genetic splicing machine that turned Miguel into Spider-Man. However, Miguel tried to save him in the comics when he was falling out the window, but his talons ripped Aaron's skin, causing him to fall to his death.

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @safixiovi @migueloharacumslut @straw-berry-ghoul @daisy-artfield @sukunash0e @undf-stuff @iamperson12280 @nightingale1011 @reader-1290 @mcmiracles @keepghostly @marlyharper @jadeloverxd @daddyfroglegs @shoukanjo

#miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader

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farity · 2 months

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Devil in the Details

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. God."

You turned at your friend Floris's whispered exclamation.

It took you but a second to figure out what she was so excited about.

Aemond Targaryen, the black sheep of the Targaryen dynasty, the reclusive billionaire who looked down at everyone vying for his attention, the man you'd been in lust with since you'd met him five years ago, had actually made an appearance at the glittering charity gala hosted by his mother.

"I need to get his skin care routine," Floris said, biting on her lower lip as she scrutinized Aemond from head to toe. "I'd love to climb that tree tonight."

Good luck with that, you thought to yourself.

You'd been in the same Uni class as his sister Helaena and met Aemond when you'd gone over to work on a joint project. He'd been quiet and almost shy, and you had been instantly smitten.

And had not been able to date anyone in the five years since because all you thought about was Aemond Targaryen.

Not that he gave you a second thought, as far as you knew.

"What the fuck is he wearing?" Floris continued, and, tired of pining after the man, you looked at her and snapped, "why don't you go find out?" before walking away to get your drink refilled.

* * * * *

"We are so very thankful for your family's contribution - the children will benefit greatly," Alicent smiled at you, leaning in to air-kiss you as you said your goodbyes.

You got your coat from the girl at the front, and were about to call for your car when you felt a hand grab your arm.

"Leaving already?"

Your heart began pounding as you recognized Aemond's voice, and taking a breath to steady yourself, you turned to face him.

By the Seven, he looked amazing. He'd shaved off his hair a few months ago when Aegon had done the same after having one too many drinks. Alicent had screamed at her oldest son and out of brotherly solidarity, Aemond had grabbed the electric shaver and started running it along his scalp right in front of his mother.

His eyes bore into yours, the prosthetic eye he had so perfect that you couldn't tell which eye was the real one. Every time you thought about it, you wanted to wallop his cousin, the little shit who had taken Aemond's eye during a childhood fight.

"I've seen enough people to last me a few months," you said, looking at what was, indeed, damn perfect skin, as Floris had mentioned. And was that eyeliner? Because his eyes had never been bluer than they were at that moment.

"Tell me about it," he said, still holding on to your arm, "I was going to grab a drink at the quiet bar next door, if you're game."

There was something vulnerable in his expression and you found yourself nodding and taking the arm he offered. "What in the world are these?" you asked.

He looked down at the latex gloves. "Mother's been berating me for not making an appearance at these things," he shrugged, "so here I am. Maybe she should have specified a dress code."

* * * * *

"You know, there's a name for what you're doing," you said, taking a sip of your drink.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Malicious compliance."

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, that would be me." He looked back up at you, eyes sparkling, "if she'd wanted me to wear a tux, she should have said so."

"Would you have, though?" you prodded, "I have a feeling you would have figured some way to twist that dress code around. You were always the clever one."

"Not so clever if I never got you to go out with me."

You stared at him for a few seconds. "Aemond, you never asked."

"I'm asking now."

He placed a few bills on the table and placed his hand palm up on the table.

You narrowed your eyes at him, making him laugh, and then placed your hands on his, and let him lead you out the door.

* * * * *

"How is Helaena liking Naath?"

"She loves it there. She has to get her shot every six months but she doesn't care, as long as she can keep studying the butterflies."

"And Aegon?"

"He stopped drinking after he shaved off his head, said it didn't suit his perfectly shaped skull."

You laughed, remembering Aegon's rather oversized ego, and then stole a glance at Aemond. "What about you? How have you been?"

He shrugged, "the company is doing well, family's good," he looked at you, "and I'm on a wonderful date."

You raised your eyebrows, "oh it's a date, is it?"

You could have sworn he blushed, but he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back. "It very much is, but I do have a problem." He looked at you very seriously. "I need to lose these damn gloves."

* * * * *

It took about twenty minutes of careful tugging and maneuvering but finally, Aemond was free of the gloves and while you got two coffees to keep you going, he headed to the bathroom to wash his arms.

Back on the street, he grabbed your hand in his as he sipped at his coffee. "This is much better."

"So where on earth does one get this sort of getup to shock Alicent Hightower?"

He smiled. "My friend is a stylist and he hooked me up. His girlfriend is a makeup artist and she put all this stuff on my face and hair."

"You look amazing," you said sincerely, "your eyes look super blue."

"I could feel mom's blood pressure spiking as she noticed the eyeliner and highlighter," he laughed. "It was worth it."

"I bet she'll say extra prayers for you tonight."

Nodding, he took another sip of his coffee. "Not enough prayers in the world," he mused. You stopped to drink some of your own coffee and he pulled you closer. "And I really want to kiss you."

You looked up at him, your heart beating faster, and then he placed his coffee cup down, and took your face in his hands. He brushed his nose against yours, not rushing you, and then his lips touched yours. He kept the kiss light and gentle, his fingertips threading through your hair as you sighed against him.

He murmured your name as he wrapped an arm around you. You didn't want this to end, this magical night, and then he spoke again.

"Come home with me."

* * * * *

"You feel so damn good," Aemond whispered in the lift, his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

The car stopped and the doors opened, and you stepped into his loft, his hands roaming over your ass as you kicked off your shoes and let him pull you up against him.

"I want you so fucking much," you said against his mouth. He led you to his bedroom and you sat down on the edge of the bed as he pulled his shirt off over his head. "Come here, Aemond," you smiled.

He walked up to you, slowly, and you reached up to undo the fastenings on his leather trousers, keeping your eyes on him. Your hand lightly went over where he was already hard as a rock, and he hissed.

You drew down the zipper ever so slowly, biting down on your lower lip.

"I am going to make you pay for this," he gritted out.

"For what?" you asked innocently, starting to tug down the waistband. When you finally freed him, your eyes darting between his cock and his eyes, you licked your lips and took him in your mouth.

"Fuck."

"Hmmmm," you moaned around him, relaxing your throat so you could take him deeper. You could hear Aemond's breathing stuttering as you slowly pulled your lips all the way to the very tip of him and then took him back down your throat, hollowing out your cheeks.

"Fuck," he repeated, "I, uh, I can't-"

You felt him suddenly pull you off him and push you back on the bed.

"This is going to end too quickly if you keep doing that, angel."

"Angel?"

"Look at you," he said, indicating your white shimmery gown. "An angel about to be debauched."

You let one strap of the dress fall off your shoulder. "What does that make you, then?"

He lunged for you, hands on the bed on either side of you, and the smile on his face made you shiver.

"Me? I'm already destined for hell, love."

He took your lips, not slowly or gently this time, but desperately, his mouth all consuming on yours as he demanded entrance with his tongue and you willingly gave it. He was tugging down your dress as he kissed you, long fingers deftly maneuvering the yards of fabric until he had bared your breasts and then he pulled back, looking down at you.

You pushed the rest of the dress down until it fell on the floor, then laid back down and extended your arms to him. "Come here, Aemond," you said for the second time that night.

He shoved down the trousers, kicked them aside and spread your legs open before he kissed you again. He was so warm, his skin ablaze against yours, and you pulled him down to you, unable to get enough of him.

He began to kiss your neck, long fingers teasing your nipple, and then his mouth was on your breast and you moaned, the sharp sting of pleasure making you arch against him. He reached down lower, between your thighs, and you gasped.

"Tell me what you like," he murmured against your lips.

"Oh," you breathed as he settled on a steady rhythm, drawing tiny circles on the knot of nerves, "you're doing fine," you managed.

"Fine is not what I'm aiming for," he said, and slipped two fingers inside you and you cried out, your hips beginning to rock against him. "I want you to come for me," he added, curling his fingertips inside you.

"Aemond," you whispered, one hand on his shoulder, the other grabbing at his hair. "I- I'm-" you pressed your face to his neck a moment before the orgasm barreled through you, your cry muffled against his skin.

You felt him kneeing your legs apart and then he was pushing inside you. As ready as you were for him, he was big, and you bit down on your lower lip, still recovering and still wanting more.

"You can take me," he murmured soothingly as he kissed your temple. "Next time you come, I want to feel it around my cock," he said, and you whimpered as he rocked his hips to fill you completely.

He pulled back slowly, eyes on you, making sure you were okay, and then snapped his hips. You let your head fall back, and felt his teeth on your jaw, raking gently. "So good," he whispered, "I've wanted you for so long," he said as he settled on long, slow strokes. "So fucking long."

"Aemond," you closed your eyes, the feeling of him moving inside you beginning to send you back into that delicious spiral.

He reached between you, fingertips finding you and you moaned. "I can feel you," he said, "you-"

You cried out as you came, and felt him grab your hips to steady himself as he reached his own orgasm.

* * * * *

As reserved and aloof as you had always thought him to be, he hadn't stopped kissing and caressing you in the aftermath of your lovemaking. The man was full of surprises.

"Stay with me," he murmured against your cheek. "Tonight."

"How can I go when you've got me completely caged in," you teased, looking down at the arms he had wrapped around you and the way his legs were tangled with yours.

"Damn, I was trying to be stealthy," he smirked back. "We'll get breakfast, maybe I'll let you lure me back to bed again."

You rolled your eyes at him. "Rewriting history, are we? I remember trying to leave and someone grabbing my arm."

His eyes became serious on yours. "If I could rewrite history, I would have grabbed you a lot sooner." He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "But I mean to make up for it."

You smiled against him, and let him pull you closer, thinking you were only too happy to let him make it up to you for a long, long time.

#hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x you

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andsoigotabutterfly · 10 months

Text

-Save me from her - chapter 1

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You and Tara had been circling around each-other for months now, driving your sister insane. What will it take, for you to finally get together?

a/n: I am planing on making a series out of this, which I haven't got a clue on how long it'll be. I am not a native english speaker, please keep that in mind.

!poorly proof-read!

warnings: amature writing, blood, canon-typical violance, swearing, multiple POV's, mixed POV's, tell me if I left something out please!

“Sooo?” Anika leaned before you on the counter; huge smile plastered on her face. ”How did it go?”

You rolled your eyes and stared at your sister. Her eyes were gleaming with anticipation and curiosity. Even though you loved her she was unbearable when she got like this. You told her so.

“Well, you’ve put up with me for nineteen years, so that’s on you. But seriously tell me everything!”

“Nothing happened!” you chimed as you desperately wanted to change the subject. “It was just a normal study session. We started laying out how the project should look like and things like that.”

“Sometimes I don’t even know how we are related…” she huffed, and her shoulders dropped in disappointment. “You’ve been drooling over her for months now! How is it that you didn’t make a move yet?”

“She is scarred, closed off, and has an overprotective sister. And for the record I have made moves. They just… didn’t go as planned” you said and stood up from the counter as you started to make your way to your room to get ready for the day. “Also, drooling is a strong word for how I feel about her.”

Anika raised a brow. “Poor Tara. Mindy told me that they… never mind. It’s not important anyway” she said slowly and taking her coffee mug to her face to take a sip from her drink.

You span around your heels to look at her and stormed to the kitchen’s counter which she was still leaning against. “What did Mind-“ you didn’t finish the sentence as you realized the trap, she laid out in front you, low smile taking over her mimics. You cursed yourself internally for losing your brain whenever her she got on your mind. Which in the last two months was always.

“As I said; drooling” she interrupted then took another sip from her hot drink.

“Out with it. What did that manipulative, smart ass, hot girlfriend of yours say about T.”

She giggled at your behaviour. “I think you meant successful and clever” she was avoiding your question. Oh, how she knew how to get you on your nerves. “The last part I agree with though” she said as her eyes started drifting away, out the window.

“Anika! Focus!”

“Oh, yeah sorry. My mind wandered” her cheeks reddened just the least amount. “About what Mindy said, no way I’m telling you! That would mean I’m abusing her trust. Plus, you know how I hate to gossip around.”

“Sure, you do…” you said knowing very well that her last sentence was a full-blown lie. You rewarded her with your glare that she knew all too well. As soon as she noticed it, she flinched.

“Stop that! It won’t work.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about” you grinned.

“I hate you!”

“I couldn’t care less.”

Anika groaned and tilted her head back. As she looked back down, she caved under your stare and told you what she heard from her girlfriend. After she finished, she added a ‘I promise that’s all I know’ and shunned her head down. With a satisfied smile you patted her shoulder and let her be at the counter.

As you were getting ready for school, a familiar nervous churn got hold of your stomach at the thought of sharing classes with her. What Anika told you was all just circumstantial and didn’t mean much. That girl had you wrapped around her fingers, and she didn’t even know about it. You thought about her sweet smile, her mesmerizing, deep brown eyes her perfect curves. The way she laughed at one of your dumb jokes or the way she smiled back at you across the cafeteria on one of the first days she arrived at Blackmore University. Oh, how you hoped to see that beam of light today too.

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You were deep in conversation with Mindy and Anika about movies when she saw you. Your group was sitting before the university, below the shadow of a small tree. A small breeze blew colourful leaves in the air reminding Tara why she loved Fall so much. As the sun shone through them, it gave you an ethereal glow which made her breath get caught in her throat, your happy-giddy expression making butterflies erupt in her stomach. As she took in your features, her gaze stopped on your lips. Your soft, beautiful, kissable- ‘Snap out of it!’ she thought to herself. As she looked anywhere but you, she realized that she stopped in her track and now Chad was looking curiously at her, waiting on her to catch up.

“What was that all about?” Chad asked with knowing grin on his face as Tara reached him.

“Shut up” she huffed back as they continued their route towards the exit of the building and your table. As they got closer, Tara’s heart started beating faster and faster, her vision tightening down to only you. Your posture, the crinkles in your eyes, your toothy smile. She found everything perfect about you. She was so deep in thought, she couldn’t see a younger boy coming as she bumped into him, breaking her trance. She fell to the ground, hitting the floor. Hard.

As the sounds of her items hitting the floor, reached you, you snapped your head in their direction, noticing her. Then you went red with anger when you heard her pained groan and got up in an instant, marching your way towards the scene.

“I’m so sorry, I should have looked before me, I didn’t mean to knock you over…” the boy started rambling her apologies as Tara slowly got up from the ground gathering her stuff slowly.

“There is no problem, really-“ she started but got cut off by a voice, that had her stomach churning in the most unbearable and pleasing ways.

“You bet that there is a problem!” at your raised voice the whole hallway silenced, listening carefully to the show. “You see, Aaron I didn’t care about you embarrassing yourself in high school when you confessed to your elderly arts teacher, but this? This is worse than when you left the classroom crying after she explained a few things to you.”

“Y/N stop” you could hear Chad’s smirk through his firm voice, but you didn’t care.

“Don’t you know not to be entranced with your phone like a big nerd as you walk through a crowded space? Hell, with this attitude, why don’t you march down the street not a care in the world and knock over your idol ‘by accident’, like you did last time? Who was it again? Oh yes; Tom H-“ you couldn’t finish because you felt her fingers gripping into your arms, calming you down. You looked down at her, her bright smile instantly managing to cool you off. For a few moments you just gazed into each other’s eyes, then you heard a small sob and looked up at the boy.

He looked broken, like a glass that was forcefully thrown at the floor, his eyes gleaming with built up sorrow. Before you could say something more, he mumbled a low ‘Sorry’ towards Tara, then quickly walked off, holding his stuff close to his chest.

You were horrified and frozen in place as you watched him go. After a few seconds, the hallway restarted its usual buzzing. This was when you realized, that almost if not the whole school had heard what you were bawling at him. As the noise indoors got back to its normal heights Chad spoke; “Well, that guys life is over.”

“No its not!” you said quickly. “He… That… This is just a small setback for him! He is a… a grown, charismatic, and lovely human, who had made some bad choices” you managed to stutter out. Then you remembered why you started to call him out. “Are you okay T?”

Her cheeks reddened the slightest. She chuckled lightly and smiled at you. “More than okay, thank you.”

“Then this was more than worth it” you gleamed back and chuckled too.

After you helped her get her things from the floor, you escorted her and Chad to your former company. When you reached them, Anika chose to free up a place and sat in Mindy’s lap, making Tara’s smile grow larger. They were so in love it was adorable.

“What were you guys talking about?” she asked.

“Horror movies” you answered with a dead voice before either of them had a chance.

“Don’t say it like that!” Mindy exclaimed, face showing hurt. “Say it like; Horror movies!” The voice she said it on could be explained as if a character from ‘My Little Pony’ would say it. If they would ever say anything even close to it. “Anyways, I’m just curious so sorry if I cross any line here but how the hell did you know all that about him?”

You shrugged as you sat down, Tara sitting next to you. “It’s what I do. I drink and Iknow things.”

“And you quote things” Anika complemented.

“And I quote things” you agreed. “Looking pretty while doing so.”

As the conversation in the group flowed, you couldn’t help but feel bad for Aaron. Just a little; he still hurt Tara, even if accidentally. Your eyes drifted towards her, examining her again. You were looking, really looking, searching her for little signs that could give away her thoughts and feelings. She looked at peace, was your first thought, yet you couldn’t fully agree with yourself. Her eyes darted away to corners, doors, and windows of the school which you sat before, searching for something, anything. Even in this friendly, harmless banter she was on her heels, and this realization made you furious.

You knew about her past as none of them wanted to keep it a secret. When you first heard the story, it made you just as mad as you were now. How does someone get over a betrayal like that? You couldn’t imagine why someone would try to kill their own girlfriend, especially if that girl is Tara. She was the most pure, kind, and loving person you knew. The thought of her getting hurt made you sick to your stomach.

The group conversed for a long time. Being done with school, nobody had somewhere to be, so you enjoyed your time together. You also rejoined them after you were done with sulking in your own anger, and talked passionately and loudly when someone brought up a topic you were heavily interested in. Nobody noticed as time flew by. You only realized how dark it was getting when Tara’s phone rang. She tensed for a moment, only to relax as she read her sister’s name on the display. The younger Carpenter turned away from the group and picked it up. “Hey Sam!” she greeted and stood, so she may get out of hearing distance, not to disturb you from continuing the debate.

Once she did, Mindy spoke again. “So, movie night at theirs” she gestured towards Tara. “Me and Anika will buy snacks, Chad, I’m assigning you to booze duty. Y/n, you escort your girlfriend home, and we’ll all meet there at eight.”

You rolled your eyes at her comment, but you all agreed on what she said. As you got up from the benches, you heard the brunette say goodbyes to her sister. “Sam needs to stay in late for her shift. She says she won’t be able to make it at least ‘till ten so she asked me to make dinner. I will need to drop by a store from some ingredients” she looked behind you and around. “Where are the others?”

You turned around just to see Chad disappear at the corner of the street. You crossed your arms and huffed slightly. “Mindy handed out the tasks, so she and my sis will probably make out at mine until they have little-to-no time left. After that they’ll find the nearest store, rob it from snacks and meet as at half nine at yours. Chad’s on his drink tour so it’ll take him a while to make it to yours. But at least he’ll be there on time.”

“That is a… pretty accurate picture you painted” she said, chuckling. “Would you care to join me?”

“With pleasure.”

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

“What’s for dinner?” you asked as she took a whole sack of onions of the shelf.

“I’m not answering that!” she said, clearly annoyed as this was the fifth time you asked her this.

“Is it onion soup? I bet its onion soup” you smirked behind her, continuing your assault on her nerves. “Do you know it’s one of my favourite foods?”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Stop trying the guess what’s for dinner, I’m not telling you!” she exclaimed, yet she didn’t mean a word she said. You were quite amusing, and your voice was like smooth, alluring jingling to her.

You leaned next to her ear and murmured “Never” before leaning back and continued harassing her, but Tara heard none of it. Your whisper in her ear froze her and had a pleasurable buzz go of in her head. She broke her trance quickly, thanking the gods you didn’t notice what you did to her.

“Oh! Maybe it’s fried onions! That would be a great idea too! Tara you are a genius!” you leaned down again and kissed her cheek, which made her freeze. Again. As she regained control over herself, she quickly put a few other products in her basket and made her way to the cash desk.

“Wait no. I have it! It must be onion pie!”

“Onion what?” Tara asked back. Never in her life has she heard about ‘onion pie’. The cashier made a strange look at you, clearly being at a loss with your words too, as she scanned all the items.

“Onion pie! Don’t tell me you don’t know what it is!”

“No, I don’t” she said sheepishly while paying for everything.

“You need to try it” you said, emphasizing every word. “I swear it’s one of the most delicious things I have ever had in my mouth. Besides onion soup.”

“If you say so.”

“I’ll make you one!” you proposed as you made your way out the shop, and slowly proceeded towards Tara’s apartment through the narrow alley of the shop. Small drops of rain started pouring from the sky. “What do you say? Friday evening you drop by me, we watch something you want, and then you try it out. I got the exact recipe from nan, yet I’ve never made it as good as hers so don’t expect no miracle, but I think it’ll still be great!”

“I would love to” Tara started, a grin making its way on her face “but unfortunately my Friday is taken…”

“What have you planned?”

“Movie night with you and our friends in two hours!”

“Oh, yeah right…” you said. “What about tomorrow evening?”

“Sounds-“ she got cut off by a stranger almost knocking her up. You managed to catch her before she would hit the ground. “Ouch!”

“Watch where you go bitch!” he snapped at Tara as he tried to walk away, but you grabbed his shoulder and span him around. “What did you just say?” his breath stank of alcohol and smoke. You knew he was wasted as hell, but you didn’t care. All you could see was red.

“I said your whore shou-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence as you shoved him into the wall left to you, raising your arm to hit him before he could get up, but he was faster than you anticipated. The man launched himself against your chest, knocking you to the ground, straddling you between his legs. Then he started to hit you wherever he could while you effortlessly tried to block his punches. The rain falling in your eyes didn’t help you either. You groaned in pain and after a while, you got a hold of his waist and with the help of your leg you managed to throw him over you.

You quickly got up, to face him once again, but Tara was quicker, kicking him in the chest before he could get up. She moved back and you placed your hand on her shoulder but didn’t take your eyes off drunkard. He didn’t take long to get up, standing before you with a wide, aggressive stance. He reached behind his back and took out a pocketknife. Tara twitched under your hand, and immediately stepped back. “Come here perra!”

Adrenaline coursed through you as you changed your stance and stood sideways towards him, the instructions of your martial arts coach flowing through your mind. Block with the back of your arm, if necessary, grab, pull, strike, repeat. Hopefully without the repeat part, you added.

He rushed towards you, swiping towards you with his knife. You dodged his first swipe left then the one to the right, and his attempted stab. Then you grabbed him by his wrist with lightning-fast movement and pulled him, sending him of next to you. As his body was leaving yours, you hit the man’s armed hand, hard. Not hard enough though, as his wet hand slipped out of your grip, and he didn’t let go of the weapon.

He launched himself at you again, this time making faster cuts. ‘Shit’ you thought as you saw one coming that you couldn’t dodge. You raised your arm so it would hit the back of your arm. You hissed from the impact. The surprise of hitting you made him vulnerable, so you grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm whilst repeating your former actions, this time disarming him in the process. As he turned around, you punched him in the stomach with your unhurt hand, and kicked his feet from under him, making him fall once again. His scalp hit the ground and knocked him out.

Your blood merged with the water on your hand and started dripping off it. You looked down at the wound; it wasn’t deep or wide which was the cause of your bones stopping the attack. “Jesus y/n!” Tara exclaimed as she noticed the cut. “Let’s get you to the apartment. I can get it clean there and then we’ll bandage it up.”

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You were quick to get there, not wanting many people to see you. Tara took the groceries of the ground and started speed walking beside you, her eyes full of worry and fear. Her heart was thrumming in her throat at the thought of losing you. She couldn’t think straight as her mind dictated only one word: faster, faster, faster. Her speed-walking went to jogging, then to running. Your sight was blurry, and your head, ribs and arms hurt but you were able to keep up with her. You blessed your father for forcing you to take those taekwondo lessons, and your coach for not kicking you out even after multiple accidents.

For you had some over the many years you had been attending the classes for your safety. Once or twice during parring you couldn’t hold back against your already defeated opponent, or when Coach Jaehyun, or as you liked to call him; Hun’, called you out to demonstrate a move, you hurt him. You either kicked too hard or made an unpredictable move which had him surprised. None of these mattered as for some reason, he thought highly of you and went out of his way to protect and take care of you. He was one of your closest friends. When you started your training, it was by the side of his father, a strong, kind, and honourable man. After his untimely passing, his son took his mantle as the new coach of the group, and quickly started to bond with you, one of his most successful students.

As you stumbled up the stairs of the building, you cursed, for Tara and Sam of course lived on the fourth level. You hated stairs. They were your nemesis, and never once could you beat them without them wearing you out before. Tara struggled for a moment with her keys, then swung the door wide open. “Bathroom” she ordered gesturing towards it with her hand.

Tara stormed towards the kitchen, searching the drawers for bandages and disinfectant. After she got all, she needed, she rushed after you. Her breath got stuck for a moment in her throat when she reached the bathroom. You took off your shirt, so she could see your bruises. You had them all over your body, as well as a black left eye and an open right arm. Somehow even now, you looked celestial.

She approached you as you were cooling your eye with cold running water and put a hand on you as to sign her presence. “Can I have a look at your arm?” she asked softly. Far softer than she usually was.

Rather than answering her, you stretched your arm out for her to look at the wound. She took it and started working on it gently. Every touch on your skin sent the feel of electricity running through you, making your heartbeat as fast as if you were running a marathon. As she was cleaning the cut you wondered for a second how she knew how to do this. Then you mentally facepalmed yourself. Of course, she knew how to deal with a wound. She would know better than anyone else.

Her heart was beating fast too, which she wished you didn’t notice. When she was done with cleaning, she stitched it up delicately and took the bandages that had been sat down beside her. While covering it, she trailed her eyes over your body. Beside the bruises, it was flawless and gorgeous. Her eyes wondered some more when she noticed a healed and old in wound on your left side. It was long, trailing from the height of your belly button right up, until it reached your armpits. She wondered, what could’ve happened and before she could stop herself, she asked.

You stiffened in her hold closing your eyes for a few moments. “I’d rather not talk about it” you said with a mournful voice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No need to be. Really” you said reassuringly.

“Okay…”

Once she finished, she threw the garbage in the trash, then helped you up and out of the bathroom. “Thanks for defending me back there by the way.”

“Thanks for patching me up doc T” you smiled down at her.

“I’ll give you something cold for your eyes and warm for your bruises” she said after setting you down on the couch.

“Wait, warm?” you sat up so she could see the confusion in your eyes.

“Yes” she said smiling. “It helps the trapped blood escape when a bruise already formed, from the area, making it less visible and speeding up the healing. After that you can apply something cold if you want to.”

“I did not know that” you mumbled and dropped back into the couch.

A few minutes later she was back with warmed salt in pouches and beans from the freezer. “Here you go” she uttered and sat down next to you. She gently placed the pouches on the right places and handed you the beans. You sighed in relief when you put it on your eye, muttering a quiet ‘Thank you’ whilst watching her delicately work with your bruises. It felt weird, your eyes felt cold, whilst other parts of your body were warm. Especially your hips, where she kept one of her hands. The heat was radiating through your whole body at the realisation.

You just noticed how close you two were, and it made you forget how to breath. She looked down at you, her pupils widening just the slightest. You could feel her breath on your face, getting faster just a little. She was leaning closer now, her breath shuddering above your face. Her eyes snapped down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. Your beautiful, captivating, deep eyes. She found herself entrapped in them. Your eyes snapped to her lips too, seeing how red they were. Alluring like every of her body parts, and kissable. Oh, how kissable they looked-

You could hear the door opening.

She jolted back, as you also tried, only now remembering that your head was already on the couch. You finally remembered how to breath. Tara felt her cheeks redden and stood up abruptly.

“We’re HERE!” Mindy screeched as they all got in. Why wouldn’t they be punctual the one time they shouldn’t be?

“Hey” you greeted them back, sitting up on the couch, revealing your face.

Mindy’s jaw dropped, Anika’s eyes widened for a moment, then she rolled her eyes, Chad laughed. Your sister marched towards you, clearly irritated. “What did you do this time?”

“I swear it wasn’t my fault!” you started to defend.

“It kind of was” Tara interrupted, smiling.

“Of course, it was, now tell me what happened!” Anika demanded.

So you did. You told the story, of how you heroically fought of three people who were all trying to mug Tara, whilst also saving an elderly lady from the truck that was about to hit her. Whilst your story went on, you got up from the couch and started playing the scene like it really happened. You didn’t seem to be distracted by the fact that your upper body was only covered by a sports bra. They all carefully listened to the made-up story, as they were used to them by this point. “So there I was, grandma in one hand, her groceries in the other, facing off this huge monstrosity of a man. He was about seven feet tall and had the sharpest machete in hand that I’ve ever seen. Then, he lunged at me” you lunged your arm forward as if holding something at Anika’s face. She dropped her jaw, playing along.

“Were you killed?” she asked, her voice unexpectedly curious.

“Sadly, yes” you said, closing your eyes. Then you snapped them open and dramatically said; “But I lived!”

“When exactly did you lose your mind?” Chad asked, before Anika could shut her up.

You stared away into nothing and murmured low, as if deep in thought. “Three months ago. I woke up one day married to a pineapple. An ugly pineapple” you sighed like a lovestruck fool. “But I loved her.”

“That’s enough” Tara cut in, still smiling like an idiot. “I’ll tell you how it really went so I may start cooking.”

“But I wanted to hear how she fought of that giant!” Mindy said pleading with her tone and with her eyes.

“Okay, I’ll tell you but just this once!” you raised your voice and continued the story. Tara rolled her eyes, gave you one last smile then went away into the kitchen to get the dinner ready.

#my stuff #please reblog #fanfiction #scream fanfic #scream fanfiction #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #tara carpenter imagine #Jenna Ortega #Jenna Ortega x reader #tara carpenter x you #fanfic #Scream #friends to lovers #Save me from Her

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andkisses · 9 months

Text

♡ he's (super) shy | enhypen ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: he’s super shy, super shy

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 775 total ♡ genres/tropes: fluff! ♡ mentions of/warnings: none (this wasn’t proof read tho </3) ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 jungwon’s first and the rest below the cut ^^ each part is inspired by lyrics from super shy by newjeans <3 ♡ a/n p2: i apologize for the unannounced absence! i started my new full time job and it’s taken a lot of effort to get into a new rhythm <3 i’ve also been working on a larger upcoming series as well! thank you for your patience ♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - “but wait a minute while I make you mine, make you mine”

it took all the courage he could muster–he asked you to wait until he could confess properly. the wind blows through your hair and his, making you both tussled messes. jungwon didn’t want to risk losing you, even if he couldn’t bring himself to 100% confess to you yet. he wanted everything to be perfect for you, be brilliant and golden and oh so happy. and you made him so shy–a blush across his cheeks and a smile so wide it was painful. lucky him, with a kiss on that smiling, cheek you tell him he's already just enough–and that you’ve been waiting for this moment for forever

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - “i'm all nervous ‘cause you’re on my mind all the time”

he thought he was losing his mind with all the thoughts of you—it had never happened before, and if it had, it was nowhere near this intense. everytime he thought of you or something romantic or both, he'd blush even if he was all alone and there was no one to tease him or ask questions. just the idea of you makes his heart race, a nervous pace that overcomes his senses and he’s sent the quick and short text before he can stop himself–i like you. do you like me back? your reply has heeseung experiencing a new kind of nervousness: yes, and i thought you would never ask

✧･ﾟ: * jay - “find a lil' spot, just sit and talk”

he works through his shyness by facing it head on, even if it makes him hot beneath the collar and red at the tips of his ears. he hopes he can blame both on the sun. jay invites you to so many different places under the guise of doing something else–studying, research for a project, anything else to make it not seem like a, well… a date. conveniently, it was only ever you two, and in his shyness he forgot your cleverness. you remind him one day after another outing, placing a kiss on his cheek to say goodbye and wishing the next time to be a real first date. jay’s determined to find the perfect place.

✧･ﾟ: * jake - “my eyes suddenly sparkle when you say i’m your dream”

he's sure he's dreaming–he must be–when you catch up to him on the quad, delicate fingers encircling his wrist. he turns toward you, and you tug him close with an intense look in your gaze, your confession and doubt already tumbling past your lips in a spiel you couldn’t have planned and jake couldn’t have ever expected. sure, he’s dreamt of a moment like this several times over, but having it be real? jake wonders if you see how his eyes sparkle when you do this, pour your heart out and strike past his shyness–should he be just as bold and just show you his feelings instead?

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - “you don’t even know my name, do ya?”

he’s absolutely certain that you didn’t know his name or even know he existed–or, at least, he was. yeah, you shared several classes and sunghoon has convinced himself you’re in the same major so he’ll get to see you often. but he's him and you're You and sunghoon has also convinced himself that he is merely a spectator to your show–a role he was content enough in. imagine his surprise when you find him after class and bring him a note–a nice envelope graced with your handwriting spelling out his name in perfect letters and–oh, what’s this? you’re blushing too?

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - “i'm usually pretty talkative, what’s wrong with me?”

he shuts down around you and it drives him insane because sunoo could make a brick wall talk back. he’s also been confident in his conversation skills and his ability to be strong and bold around people. but with you? you're so special, too special–it takes him aback and off guard and it ignites a feeling in him he isn’t used to. sunoo, he realizes, is shy, and he isn’t sure what to do. so, he does what he knows best. sunoo catches you after class, and starts talking, ignoring his shyness and explaining his feels outright and–do you like him too? your hands in his, the red on your cheeks, and your lips against his tell him everything.

✧･ﾟ: * niki - “something odd about you, yeah, you’re special and you know it”

something odd has happened, between you and niki, and while it absolutely terrifies him, this new feeling, it's exciting, enthralling. it makes him shy and question himself but he wants answers more. so, one day, when you come over, he starts asking questions around the edge of what he actually wants to say, gauging your reaction in case he needs to back off and kill these new, shy feelings. imagine his surprise when you start teasing back, your questions striking closer to the confession niki hopes you’ll make–i like you. and then, somehow, without words even–you end up together, sharing a sweet kiss that niki is sure erases his shyness once and for all.

#kdiarynet #kwritersworld #kflixnet #k-labels #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #jungwon fluff #heeseung fluff #jay fluff #jake fluff #sunghoon fluff #sunoo fluff #niki fluff #headcanons #enhypen #all

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nebbyy · 16 days

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Leo Valdez x Child of Aphrodite!reader

A/N: I haven’t got much to say this time, just a reminder that requests are open and will remain this way for some weeks at the very least:))

Warning: absolutely none (maybe some swearing? But like, two bad words), just pure fluff. Also, reader uses female pronouns

It was kind of against your destiny to fall in love: Aphrodite is bound to never return Hephaestus’ love, so that they’re stuck in a loveless marriage. With the two of you, it’s the total opposite

The exact same MOMENT you see the boy in camp, disheveled look, face covered in machine oil and dust, you’re, absolutely smitten

It’s the classical “she fell first, he fell harder” type of trope

He notices you pretty early on too, but he doesn’t even try to approach you at first

I mean, no way that the prettiest child of Aphrodite could ever even look into his direction, you’re wayyyy over his league

It takes Piper’s help to start things up, when she accidentally stumbles upon Leo while she was taking a walk around camp. “Oh how rude of me. Y/N, this is my best friend, Leo”

It would be embarrassing to write down just how much he’s stumbled on his words the first time the two of you talked, just because of how he was absolutely captured by your godly beauty

He comes to find that you’re also a lot more than you’re looks: you’re funny, smart, clever, strong as fuck, and one of the best friends Leo has ever known

It doesn’t take long for him to realize that he’s completely and irrevocably in love with you, but oh boy how long does it take him to confess it to you

He had prepared this big, fancy plan to take you by the beach, with candles all around, a circle of rose petals and in the center of it a picnic filled with all of your favorite foods waiting to be devoured

Too bad he didn’t check the weather that morning, or he would’ve seen that a storm was expected right on that evening. He might’ve asked for Percy’s or Jason’s help too, maybe they could’ve done some big-god shit to prevent the rain

Nevertheless, you both found yourself soaked wet, standing by a line of extinguished candles, the petals long gone with the wind, and the food watered down to a soup

He wanted to drown himself in the sea right then and there, but he was quickly stopped by your laugh coming from behind him

Oh gods, where you making fun of him? Did you figure out what his intentions were? It must’ve been it, I mean, how could you ever want to have anything to do with him other than simple friendship, he’s been so stupid so reckles-

His track of thoughts was interrupted by your hands grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for a loving kiss, your skilled lips so soft and comforting against his much inexperienced ones

“You could’ve just told me you liked me at Camp, you know.”

“Wait, was it that simple?”

You laughed again shaking your head at his cluelessness, and he swore the sound of your laugh could’ve been the only thing he needed to live from that moment on

Okay no maybe food too, but you get the idea

You spend most of the time chilling in cabin 9 while he works on his projects, chilling in his bed or peaking at what he was doing

He definitely calls you dove for obvious reasons

Best believe that as soon as you guys are a thing all his flirting with every girl that moves is OVER my boy does not come from the streets he’s a loyal mf

After the curfew you usually sneak out to chill in some secluded area in the forest, and cuddle for hours in the moonlight

And whenever it rains, you waste no time to go at the beach and dance in the rain, reminiscing about the day you two got together

Oh, and get ready to see Leo as an emotional wreck anytime one of you is on a quest, when he’s unable to text you or hear anything from you for days or even WEEKS

He’s sure that’s worse than Prometheus’ destiny

Overall it’s like a golden retriever - siamese cat relationship, 10/10 would recommend

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo cabins #pjo tv show #pjo #writers on tumblr #fluff #my fic #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you #piper mclean #gender neutral reader

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ineffablyruined · 7 months

Text

A Game of Spy vs Spy

(Or is it more Mr. & Mrs. Smith?)

Buckle up, because this one's about to get a little.. out there? Maybe. You decide for yourselves. I had this thought at 3am and I couldn't get it out of my head.

This following is based on two assumptions:

1. Aziraphale has a Plan (capital letter included) - see my explanation of why I believe that's the case in this post.

2. Crowley has been working on his own Plan since he dawned there Tactical Turtleneck - see this brilliant post by @justhereforthemeta .

Putting the rest under a Read More because it's a little lengthy.

To summarize both in case you don't have time to read both posts:

1. I believe Aziraphale's scary smile in the elevator is a smile he learned from spending so much time around Crowley and that it's reflective of him coming up with a plan to avert the Second Coming that he thinks is so clever that Crowley would absolutely approve.

The fact that Crowley is seen wearing his Super Secret Spy Gear multiple times throughout the series means he's actively working on his heist. He's plotting, he's planning. He disappears on Aziraphale when the angel is remembering Job. Disappearing on Aziraphale? That's not like Crowley at all.

2. Crowley is so enamored with the spy life (bullet hole decals anyone?) that he begins plotting a heist as soon as he finds out the Book of Life is a threat to Aziraphale. And the turtleneck is his spywear.

Crowley saves Aziraphale. It's his thing. He's done it over and over, countless times throughout history.

But listen to what Aziraphale says. Rescuing me makes him so happy. Rescuing me.

And the times Crowley asked Aziraphale to run away with him? Well, those times, it wasn't Aziraphale's life that was threatened. It was Crowley's. Hell found out he screwed up the baby switch? They were coming for him, not Aziraphale. Armageddon't? Isn't it demons that burn in a fiery pit for eternity when the world ends, not angels?

My point is.. M' point is..

Crowley isn't asking Aziraphale to run away with him at the end of Episode 6 only to chance The Metatron erasing Aziraphale from the Book of Life when they get there.

Crowley already has the Book of Life.

My bet? He had a little side project up in Heaven with Muriel off-camera. He was wearing the beige turtleneck after all.

And when we leave Heaven?

Turtleneck gone. Mission accomplished.

But let's not stop there!

Because Aziraphale has a Plan of his own now that he's returned from Heaven. And I'm betting at least part of it involves the Book of Life. And when he goes to look for it? GONE! And when he checks the files? Sure enough, there's Crowley sneaking it into his pocket. (And if we get an "Oh Good Lord" repeat at seeing Crowley's Heaven outfit, I'm not going to complain).

Alternatively, Heaven is going to find it missing, and they're going to know it was Crowley who took it and Aziraphale has to get it back to try to save Crowley.

Either way, he's going to have to get it.

And I'm betting Mr. BackOnHisOwnSide Crowley isn't going to be too forthcoming when the Supreme Archangel asks for it back.

And let the Spy vs Spy hijinks commence.

..................

Below is one conversation I've dreamed up in my head about all this, if you're into that kind of thing. Enjoy:

Crowley: If only I had access to a place with a truly ridiculous number of old books where one new addition would go completely unnoticed.

Aziraphale: Well, it's a good thing I know this bookshop better than anyone then, isn't it?

Crowley (bearing his teeth): I've reorganized.

Aziraphale: *gasp*

#good omens meta #meta or crack?#I'm not really sure at this point #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens speculation #go3 speculation

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mrsjellymunson · 7 months

Text

Hello, Stranger

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader, Eddie Munson x you, Eddie Munson x reader

For @lesservillain’s excellent Strange and Spooky Stories Halloween writing event for the prompt: ‘Stranger’

Summary: A stranger comes in to buy weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not quite sure what to make of it…

CW: 18+ (MDNI), fluff, maybe SFW though caution for mature and dark themes and allusions to crime and violence. Flirting, li’l bit of awkwardness, some swearing. Both Eddie and reader are in their 20s. Reader’s gender and appearance are not described, they can be whatever you want. No use of y/n. Time period is not mentioned, and any inaccuracies/inconsistencies about history, equipment, American schooling (I’m not from around these parts) or science are deliberate and artistic oh yes they are. No smut, I thought I’d better assess whether I could string a semi-coherent story together before attempting to add that 😆

WC: ~6.2k

A/N: I love gore, revenge movies, murder shows, true crime, science/biology/forensics and DIY (sort of), so this prompt seemed like a perfect fit. There are tiny Easter eggs from The Equalizer, Breaking Bad, 80s crime TV, The Blacklist and John Wick in here - let me know if you spot any! This is the first ‘proper’ fic I’ve posted so I’d love to know what you think. Comments, reblogs and feedback are hugely appreciated and very welcome!

(Also this is my first attempt at dividers too, I hope they worked, I literally have no idea what I’m doing!)

Yep, you were ‘that’ weird kid. Your friends in Middle School had called you a freak because you brought squirrel tails and chicken feet to show’n’tell.

“But look! If you pull this tendon it makes the claw close! Isn’t that cool?!”

No, apparently that was not cool. Especially when demonstrated against your teacher’s finger...

You’d visit a friend whose father was a doctor, begging to read his medical and pathology text books, and preferring to look at pictures of dissected and diseased organs and spontaneous human combustion over braiding your friend’s hair or talking about boys.

And, apparently, scoring a class-topping 9.5/10 for your rat dissection also wasn’t the social merit badge you thought it might be, even amongst your science-abreast academic peers.

So what if you had a strong constitution. And a love of anatomy and pathology. And then compounded it with a love of true crime, particularly serial killers and forensic methods. Surely there were worse things to be interested in?

By the time you’d finished High School you’d learned to mask your enthusiasm, covering your (apparently, socially unacceptable) fascination for all things ‘gross’ and ‘murderous’ (your friends’ words) by choosing science majors like human anatomy and pathology, criminal behaviour and forensics.

People just thought you were clever, nerdy, a scientist. You never let on that you were itching to actually experience some of these things for yourself, in real time, with your own hands…

You work the evening shift at the sprawling out-of-town homewares store on the road running out of Indianapolis towards a tiny town you’ve never been to (Hawksville? Hawking?). You work a few evenings a week plus alternate Sundays, currently in the gardening, kitchen and hardware department. It wouldn’t be your chosen section of the store (in the short time you’ve been there you’ve had to amass a lot of knowledge about tools. Also, how to politely deflect the regulars’ offers to share details of their new projects, lest you get drawn in to a half-hour discussion about u-bends or rawl plugs), but the hours suit you and fit around your college classes, and the employee discount comes in handy when things in your shitty apartment break down or your roommate carelessly breaks something, again.

The final few hours of your shifts were usually pretty quiet, barring the occasional domestic plumbing emergency, or a bored Hawkins housewife coming in looking for batteries.

You don’t mind spending your evenings amongst the tools and machinery, it gives you a chance to flick through the latest copy of forensic magazine or True Crime, or work on your college assignments.

One thing that does make the slow evenings more entertaining is the unusual clientele. A nerdy-looking guy with a moustache needing releasable cable ties, cooking oil and a large plastic sheet at 9.30pm must have an interesting backstory, right?

You find yourself concocting fantastical vignettes about the oddballs that pass through, giving them the most amusing or disturbing story you can think of as they glide by in the night.

The guy with the cable ties? Too easy. Clearly he’s got a ‘special friend’ and an interesting evening planned. TBH, that’s probably not even fictional. You call him Salacious Scott.

The friendly, rotund lady who regularly comes in for for buckets and sawdust? You know it’s Mrs Henderson, who is trying to go self-sufficient and has recently installed a composting toilet, but you prefer to imagine she’s actually a madam with a ‘specialist interest’ playroom, who you brand Madame Urolagnia.

The paranoid guy with a beard and thick glasses who won’t tell you his name, buys a lot of vodka from the liquor store nearby and comes in for plastic pipe, cladding and those slot-together foam mats for kids? He tells you he’s into martial arts and these make safe weapon facsimiles for training, but you reckon he’s actually some kind of government agent. Your imaginary name for him is Mysterious Murray.

One oddball in particular has caught your attention, and not just because he’s easily the handsomest customer you’ve had in a while.

Wait, no, you didn’t just admit that; you just find him interesting, that’s all.

It was his speed and demeanour that had struck you first, rushing in, hand atop the bandana on his head, gangly legs in ripped jeans looking like they were trying to run in two different directions at once, large, dark eyes wide as he’d frantically looked around the store.

“Uh, rope, I need rope, where’d you keep the rope?”

You’d blurted some instructions and he’d headed off, not looking in your direction.

His leather jacket and swinging chains certainly commanded attention amongst the flannel and blue denim that was usually in your line of sight, and you’d found your eyes following him, catching sight of him moving between the aisles from your position behind the counter.

He’d moved towards you with a sturdy knife, a shovel and 3 rolls of duct tape that he’d collected on his way to the checkout, arms full (he didn’t pick up a basket), when you’d ventured,

“I’d recommend the next brand up, if you want something stronger with better sticking power? It costs a little more, but it’s better quality, so overall you’ll use less”, (silently thanking Mr Wheeler’s recent diatribe on the merits and pitfalls of various brands of adhesive tape, remembering the detail because he’d gone so far as to demonstrate by sticking small pieces of it to your skin. It was a weird interaction for sure, but also oddly informative).

He’d lifted his head to look at you and your eyes had connected for the first time. Your eyes widened, and you think you spotted a slight twitch of a smile at one side of his mouth.

Oh, he’s actually really cute.

“Uh, okay, if you think that’s best”.

He dropped his eyes from yours and, after unceremoniously dumping everything else onto your counter, he’d exchanged the rolls and returned.

You’d both paused, you don’t know for how long, and you’d wondered how someone buying rope could be so captivating. But the spell was broken as you’d both spoke simultaneously:

“Did you find everything you need?”

“I’m kinda in a rush, so…”

You’d both chuckled nervously, and you’d set about ringing up his purchases, noticing that a small smile definitely now graced those previously harried features.

He’d paid with a handful of old, crumpled bills pulled from his jacket, politely declining your offer of a bag, and then he was gone as quick as he came, hurrying out into the night with the swish of the automatic doors and a breeze of parking lot-scented night air.

You didn’t know why anyone would need rope and a shovel at that time on a weeknight, but with this particular guy, who you dubbed The Stranger, you found yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind finding out.

You’d unintentionally spent the rest of that evening coming up with fantasies about that particular customer, although, unusually for you, quite a few of them hadn’t actually involved what was on his receipt…

When The Stranger next comes in he’s after heavyweight garbage bags, more tape and a saw, but seems in slightly less of a rush.

He pauses at your counter for a few moments, making polite conversation, asking how long you’d been working here, whether you were working late tonight.

Is he trying to… flirt? Surely not…

“Thanks for the tape recommendation by the way, it was a real lifesaver. That stuff’s really good, I definitely have a new favourite!”, gracing you with a broad grin (oh fuck, that was a sight) before he was on his way again.

Another time he bought shears, tarp and a large quantity of painting coveralls.

The next trip involved wire cutters, buckets and a wet’n’dry vacuum.

You begin to enjoy The Stranger coming in buying random shit at odd hours. You can’t quite make him out. He buys a lot of gardening and decorating-type equipment (plus he’s almost single-handedly keeping the cleaning product aisle in business), but he dresses like neither - always in tight, ripped jeans, shredded band tees and his signature leather jacket. You’ve never seen him covered in leaves or dirt, and his clothes have zero paint on them. Those coveralls must do a really good job…

You build up a rapport of sorts with him. There’s always a polite, verging on friendly greeting between you, and you let him know when there’s special offers on tarp and garbage bags, and what days there are deliveries of latex gloves and those painting coveralls he seems to like so much. (Sometimes you’ll even stash a few of the latter for him under the counter if there’s a holiday weekend coming up, knowing Hawkins’ husbands will be out in force and not wanting him to miss out.)

But the ‘fantasy vignette’ and forensically-inclined parts of your brain begin to overlap, and start to tickle your imagination. It’s almost as if each selection of items he buys could be used to either dispatch someone, or dispose of a body. But that’s crazy, right? He seems way too nice to be a serial killer. And mob activity in this part of Indiana? Nah. That wouldn’t happen around here.

Would it?

It’s a quiet Friday night when you next see The Stranger. He’s picked up bolt cutters, pliers, some metal trays, a sledgehammer, a mop, and, most bizarrely of all because you’ve noticed he’s not usually one for personal safety equipment, ear defenders.

Again, he’s basket-less, barely able to contain the items piled up in his arms. They topple as he arrives at your counter, and some end up partially covering your open magazine.

“Shit, I’m really sorry about that.”

“Oh, no problem, honestly. I probably shouldn’t be reading on the clock anyway”, you say, slightly bashful, as you move the crumpled magazine out from underneath his items, smoothing it down. The Stranger’s eyes are locked on your hands, and as they move across the page they reveal a headline about a recently apprehended serial murderer and some photographs of a variety of grisly-looking, bloody weapons.

“That looks… interesting, watcha reading there?”, he remarks, leaning in.

“Oh, this? It’s about a new guy they’ve just caught over in Europe. He’s fascinating, he used such a variety of tools and methods that at first the police didn’t even think to link the crimes. Ingenious, really, when you think about it. So creative!”

You look up, and The Stranger is regarding you with an unreadable expression. Does he think you’re weird, babbling on about this murderer like you admire him? Or is he actually impressed with your enthusiasm?

“Sorry, I’m a true crime buff, it’s a bit of a pet topic of mine. And I’m studying forensics at college, so it’s kind of like schoolwork too.” You chuckle nervously, arms moving in front of your body and shoulders subtly curling in on yourself in embarrassment.

The Stranger seems to sense your discomfort, and shakes his head, making his curls bounce, smiling and chuckling along with you.

“No, yeah, uh, me too with the crime thing, actually. Well, not so much the reading, I’m more of a hear-it-through-the grapevine, hands on kinda guy.”

‘Hands on’? WTF does that mean?

“Oh, cool, coolcoolcool”. Smooth…

As you scan his items your fantasy vignette tickles your brain again.

No, don’t be silly…

You bag everything up this time, insisting it’ll be easier to carry, handing them to him and taking his crumpled bills.

Your curiosity is more than piqued and you can’t hold it in any longer. Feeling bold, you ask, “So, what’s all this for?”

“Huh?”

“The- the stuff. What’re you doin’ with it?”

The Stranger looks at you through his lashes, not speaking.

Shit, you’ve overstepped, he’s gonna leave, find a different store and you’ll never see him again.

“Uh, well, some people I know out near the big city are, er, planning a, uh, party, with a few of their, um, associates, and I think it’s gonna get pretty loud, hence the earphones. I, uh, don’t usually get involved in stuff until later in the evening, y’know, after all the main fun’s over.”

You look a little quizzical.

He thinks for a moment.

“I tidy up, but I sorta make it a bit more fun for everyone. Bring a bit of pizazz to a usually mundane part of the evening. Kinda thing.”

You process for a few moments. The ‘Mob Cleaner’ vignette you’d fantasised about screams loud and long into your cerebrum.

Nerves give way to curiosity, and you brashly ask, “So, what exactly is it that you do?”

“I’m kind of a cleaner, I guess? If someone has a problem that they’ve had dealt with and they wanna make the cleanup more, um, interesting, I’m the guy they call.”

Probing further, you clarify, “So you don’t make the, uh, mess, you just clean it up. Creatively?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

He explains he’s still quite new to the job, and kinda fell into it. His boss and his mentor are both encouraging, saying his USP is truly original (Unique Selling Point, he explains when you look confused), and that he definitely ‘has potential’. He’s learning a lot as he goes, but his enthusiasm seems to be appreciated and he wants to do well.

“All you really need is a strong stomach, imagination and a flair for the dramatic!”

He illustrates his last point by making jazz hands by the sides of his head, offering you a generous smile. Yeah, you can see how that particular part of the job comes easy to him.

“Oh, well, it sounds like fun. I hope you have a very successful evening!”

“Okay, well, thanks again! I’ll see you.”

You watch him leave, noticing in particular how well his jeans fit tonight.

What’s that saying again - I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave…?

You shake your head to rid yourself of the lewd - and crazy, yeah, totally crazy - thoughts you’re having about The Stranger and encourage yourself back into work mode.

As you busy yourself and tidy your counter you notice something small and white on the floor in front, about the size of a credit card. It must’ve fallen out of his jacket as he fumbled for cash.

Cash. Always cash. Never credit card, never cheque, never — anything traceable…

You round the counter and pick it up, thinking you’d save it and return it to him the next time he comes in. It’s a business card. The text is unfussy and clear, but glossy, bold and slightly gothic. It’s a company name above some text and a pager number, but it may well be the most intriguing piece of writing that you’ve ever come across:

E.M. Creative Disposal Services, Apprentice to Mr Kaplan & Associates, For dinner reservations call: (555)-666-6969

It’s another quiet night, but there’s already a couple of people at the counter when The Stranger arrives. Mr Sinclair needs a pipe wrench and a plunger (you don’t envy him his evening), and Mrs Wheeler has come in to buy double-As for the second time this month (although this time she also added gardening gloves and secateurs to pad out her basket. Not that you’d judge either way).

You spot The Stranger’s curls before anything else, bobbing in the fluorescent lights as he comes through the entrance doors. He spots the queue and immediately joins it, glancing towards the counter and visibly brightening when he sees you behind it. He’s carrying the sledgehammer he bought last time. As you start to ring up Mrs Wheeler’s batteries you see him examining the head of the hammer. Frowning slightly, he moistens his thumb with his tongue and rubs at one corner, then polishes the same spot on the front of his jeans.

He reaches the counter, receipt retrieved from a bundle pulled from inside his jacket.

You greet each other with a quiet ‘hey’. He continues, “I, uh, wanted to return this. Can I do that?”

“Yeah, sure, lemme ring it through the till. Can I ask why? Company policy,” you shrug, almost apologetically.

“Sure, uh, well you know that phase ‘using a sledgehammer to crack a nut‘? Turns out a sledgehammer does indeed obliterate the, uh, nuts… Let’s just say it wasn’t really suitable for the project I had in mind. I think I need something…”

Lighter? Easier to aim?

“With a little more finesse?” You venture, eyebrows raised, hoping you haven’t completely misread things.

“Yeah, finesse! I like that”. He beams widely at you tilting his head slightly, revealing the most gorgeous dimples you’ve ever seen, and it’s all you can do to hold on to the edge of the counter while your knees gently fail beneath you.

“Umm, you want some help choosing?”

He readily agrees and you direct him to the hammer section, both of you discussing the merits and disadvantages of various models as you choose ones from the display and encourage him to feel their weight and balance. He seems impressed, clearly not expecting you to be so well-versed in the finer aspects of hardware.

“Y’know, you really know your tools!”

You squeak out a bashful, “Thanks.”

You slip into self-deprecating mode and brush off his compliment, saying, “It comes with the territory I guess. I’ve picked up a lot working here. Plus I just sometimes browse the shelves, thinking of nefarious uses for random household objects.” Hurriedly adding, “For school, of course!”

You cringe a bit, thinking this must make you look like some kind of weirdo, but The Stranger takes it easily in his stride, commenting, “You know, you’d be surprised to learn just how much of a marketable skill that can be.”

You chat some more and he eventually chooses a smaller, less unwieldy hammer, and after he pays you part ways again.

You still desperately want to ask him exactly what he used that other hammer for, what ‘Creative Disposal Services’ actually means, and what the hell have dinner reservations got to do with any of this?

The next night you see The Stranger he saunters in at about 8:30. He has a different energy about him this evening, seeming both more relaxed but also somewhat on edge. He’s not in his usual ratty band tee tonight, you notice, and no leather jacket either. Instead he’s wearing a what looks to be a clean, maybe even pressed, electric blue raglan shirt with black half length sleeves. You spot a crimson guitar pick necklace that you’ve not seen before dangling from a twinkling silver ball chain, resting against his sternum and resplendent against the blue.

Observing his forearms for the first time you notice how attractive - and (oh!) tattooed - they are. Toned and veined, their shape and his mix of tattoos are shown off to perfection by that sleeve length, and a leather and chain bracelet that adorns one powerful-looking wrist. The glint of his chunky silver rings accentuates his large hands that peek out of his jeans pockets as he wanders over to you. He’s still in tight black jeans, but they seem a little… neater than usual. And he’s not in a rush. It’s almost like he’s not working, maybe even making an effort.

You feel a frisson of excitement - could it be that he’s come in just to see you?

Exhibit A, m’lud: Scrubbing up well.

He heads straight for your counter, and you greet each other with your characteristic friendliness.

He spies the hefty text books you’ve spread before you, and leans onto the counter to get a closer look.

“Watcha workin’ on tonight, Doctor Quincy?”

You swallow at the cute nickname, voice cracking slightly as you start to tell him about the assignment you’ve got. It’s about evidential tool marks, and how pathologists can identify what’s been used as a weapon or tool of dismemberment.

The Stranger tries to play down his interest, but his demeanour betrays him as he presses for more details, even asking if he could maybe read the finished piece.

That’s weird, right? People don’t read other people’s science essays for fun. Do they?

But you agree, promising to bring him a copy when it’s done.

The conversation lulls, and The Stranger twists the pad of one of his thumbs against the counter, seemingly a little nervous, though you can’t imagine what about.

To break the silence you slip into work mode, but for some reason drop your voice a couple of octaves and murmur,

“So anyway, what is it that can I help you with, sir?”

Wait, is he blushing?

“Um, oh, uh, I actually don’t have a shopping list today, I was, uh, just gonna browse, I guess.”

He backs away from your counter, giving it a few rhythmic slaps with his fingertips before turning away from you and ambling off into the store. He returns a few moments later with a small hatchet and mid-range fold-out knife, plus two rolls of his now-favourite tape.

“You can never have too many of these, amirite?”

He gives you that dimpled smile again, and you feel your stomach do a full (though anatomically impossible) 360° flip.

Observing his lack of focus and comparatively small selection of items, you wonder if he really needs those things, or whether he’s just picking them up as an excuse to come in to the store. Your chest heats up a little at the thought.

Exhibit B: Small, possibly unnecessary purchase. The evidence is mounting up.

Seeing the hatchet, your eyes light up with enthusiasm as you remember something.

“Hey, we just got some new stock in that I think you might like, y’know, if I’m not overstepping or anything.” You finish with a nervous chuckle.

You smile at him nervously through your lashes, skin heating even more in case this is suddenly all a bit too familiar.

He grins, responding, “Sure, go ahead!”

Your smile broadens and relaxes as you turn away from him and walk to the back shelves, crouching down and retrieving something in your arms.

Standing quickly and turning, you notice his eyes widen and immediately flick up to yours, a slightly alarmed expression on his face.

Exhibit C: Was he checking you out when he thought you wouldn’t notice? (Also, is it getting hot in here?)

With a loud thunk you lay two (frankly, terrifying-looking) multi-tools out on the counter in front of him. One looks like an oversized, overspec-ed Swiss Army knife, and the other could easily pass as a prop from an exorcism-themed horror movie. You over-excitedly explain the features of each, saying, “This one has a hammer and an axe, plus screwdrivers, pliers, a saw, wire cutters, a magnesium rod”, you look up at him quickly and ask, “do you ever need to start fires? Plus, it has…”, you wave your hand dramatically over your favourite part of the item, like you were showing it off on a shopping channel, and stretch out the syllables of the final two words for emphasis, “…a bottle opener…”. You raise your eyebrows and grin widely, like this must surely be the deal breaker.

The Stranger laughs, throwing his head back with deep-throated barks from the centre of his chest, and then he chuckles a little, bringing a strand of hair over his cheek and a curled finger to his lips. You’re slightly distracted by that glimpse of his extended neck (god, you want to gnaw at it), and that laugh? You wish you could’ve recorded it somehow.

You quickly compose yourself and continue, switching to the ’horror prop’ product, “And this one has fewer features, but I like it for its simplicity, robustness and practical charm. It’s an axe, hammer, nail puller and pry bar. And it even has a rubber coated handle, so you can still use it safely even if your hands are wet. For, y’know, whatever reason…” you finish, slightly abashed.

“Aw, Pumpkin, this is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a while, thank you.”

Pumpkin. PumpkinPumpkinPumpkin. Exhibit D: A term of endearment!

He takes some time to examine both articles, testing out their various features, hefting them in his (large, strong) hands (stop it!).

“I love them. Y’know what, I can’t decide. I’ll take both. What’s the damage?”

You visibly brighten, a squeak of delight that you hope he didn’t hear inadvertently leaving you as you puff up with both his term of endearment and your ever-growing customer service confidence.

You check whether he’d still like the other items he’d brought to the counter, and apart from the duct tape (“You really can’t have too much of this stuff!”), he allows you to reshelve the rest.

He watches, enthralled, as you wrap his new tools in the store-issue brown paper reverently and carefully, as though you were wrapping an expensive gift in a fancy department store, the pair of you sharing bashful looks and half smiles as you work.

As he hands over the now-unsurprising crumpled bills and takes his change his hand drifts closer to yours, glancing his fingers over your palm and lingering for just a moment. There’s a little hitch in your inhale, and you think you see his ears redden a little.

He gathers up his purchases in his arms carefully and gently, and he backs away from your counter slowly.

“I guess I’ll head out then. Uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I guess you will, uhh-”

“Eddie. My name’s Eddie.”

“Okay, I guess so, Eddie.” You say his name slowly, like you’re testing out the syllables in your mouth.

You continue speaking, offering your name in reciprocation.

“Yeah, yeah I know your name, it’s kinda on your little badge there.” A tiny nod indicates the plastic rectangle pinned on your apron strap near your left shoulder.

Your cheeks heat again. “Right, of course. Ha!” You inwardly cringe. Well, that could’ve gone better.

He’s still backing away, getting dangerously close to an intricately balanced display of colourful children’s watering cans. You’re about to say something, but he turns just in time, ambling towards the illuminated exit with a mumbled, “Okay, bye then. Thanks again for these…” lifting the packages in his arms, and turning to look over his shoulder a couple more times before he finally reaches the door and disappears into the parking lot.

“Hey, d’you know anything about wood chippers?”

It’s been a week since you’ve seen The Stranger Eddie, and you turn abruptly to find him walking towards your counter.

His question throws you out of your stocktaking zone (you’d been focussing on ordering enough plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets for all of Hawkins’ kids this Halloween), but you quickly slip into customer service mode and ask for more details.

Eddie explains, using mostly his arms, that he needs one that, “throws everything everywhere”. You finally work out that he means the type where you feed stuff into a hopper on one side and the shredded debris is forced out of a raised chute on the other (as opposed to the more gravity-based ones where stuff is fed into the top and simply falls out the bottom).

He’s passing it off as being involved in some avant garde student art project, a performance piece involving feeding a load of wood and, uh, paint, yeah, paint into a wood chipper and having it spray out the other side. He blusters that the students are trying to make a point about climate change, or maybe it’s deforestation, he can’t seem to decide.

He explains that the piece is to be performed indoors, that there’ll be quite a few people present, and that he also needs a large quantity of tarp and coveralls because it was likely to make a huge mess.

This is the clincher. You’re absolutely convinced there is no art project, and what’s go through that chipper is more likely to be a human body. Or, given the amount of effort being gone to, and Eddie’s flair for theatrics, probably more than one.

“What size branches?”

He looks at you, confused. “Huh?”

“The, uh, limbs. What size will you be shredding? Some of the smaller models won’t cope with thick trunks.”

He swallows. His eyes meet yours, and he licks his lips. You can’t help but stare at those full, pink… Look away! Just look away!!

He subtly smirks, slowly moves his hands across the counter, and, gently taking hold of one of your hands in his, loops his other finger and thumb around your wrist.

“Um, definitely thicker than this…” - he extends your arm towards him, and moves his other hand slowly up your skin until he gets to your upper arm - “…and maybe a little thicker than this, too.”

You hope he can’t feel the burning sensation that’s erupted up your arm. You know he can’t possibly hear your racing heartbeat or detect the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins, but you’re acutely aware of both just the same. You briefly ponder whether you’ll need to get a fire extinguisher from aisle 7.

“Umm, how about I show you what we’ve got?”

Composing yourself, barely, you take him to the large garden implements section, explaining that for larger trunks and limbs he may need something towable.

Under the guise of working out whether various models would be suitable, you take the opportunity to dig a little and find out what kind of vehicle he drives. It’s a van, so roomy, practical for carrying a lot of equipment that needs to be kept out of sight. Well, this all tracks.

Also, your brain helpfully suggests, it could potentially be romantic, a private little hideaway where you and he could… No! Stay on topic, you’re at work for god’s sake!

As you debate the various choices you find you’re occasionally leaning into each other, shoulders and elbows lightly bumping, you stealing glances at his chiselled jawline when you think he isn’t looking.

Eddie eventually decides on a mid-size towable model, and as you arrange for it to be delivered to the collection bay he bids you goodnight and disappears out to his van.

‘Art project’, huh? I don’t think so…

You don’t see Eddie for a couple of weeks after that, and you begin to wonder whether he doesn’t like you. Maybe you went too far, did you bore him? Did you frighten him off? Did he feel pressured into buying those gadgets or the expensive wood chipper?

Maybe he’s finally realised you’re a weirdo, like everyone at school eventually did?

Trying to get out of your funk you steel yourself and ask your department manager, Keith, whether he’d seen an odd, metal-looking guy in the store at all.

“Nah, not recently, but someone like that did come in a few weeks back, asking about when you’d be working. Something about your product knowledge helping him with a job, or whatever. I told him your schedule, I hope that’s ok.”

So you haven’t missed him, and maybe he’s not avoiding you. Good, that’s good. Exhibit E: He’s been asking about you?? Oh fu-

You’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of someone slapping two plastic packets down onto the counter.

“Oh, hi Mrs Wheeler, let me ring those up for you…”

On his next visit it’s clear Eddie is restocking his cleaning supplies, and he’s even deigned to use a small trolley this time to transport the heavy and bulky items.

As well as multi-surface cleaner, mops, cloths and some heavy duty gloves, you notice his trolley also contains numerous bottles of chlorine bleach.

“Big clean-up job tonight, huh?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I need to leave the place without any trace of the, uh, performance this time.”

“Depends what you need to clean up, I guess. Y’know, chlorine bleach doesn’t necessarily get rid of everything.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, it’s fascinating, common misconception by the way. Chlorine bleach gets rid of visible stains, so that’s great if your main concern is aesthetics. But you can still detect haemoglobin, if you have access to the right tools and solutions.”

Eddie looks bath engaged and confused.

“A-heema-whatnow?”

You snicker.

“Haemo-, y’know what, never mind. Blood, basically. So actually, oxygen bleach is your best bet if your biggest concern removing all traces of, let’s say, blood and DNA. Whilst it doesn’t necessarily remove all the marks, it does degrade everything biological to the point where it’s undetectable. At least, with the tests we currently have.”

Eddie leans his elbows on the counter, giving you his full attention, resting his cheeks on his knuckles and pushing his dimpled grin up even further. Emboldened, you talk at length about haemoglobin, DNA degradation, specialist chemical solutions and alternative light sources.

He stays there, rapt, until you come to a natural stop. Just before he straightens up he quietly mumbles, still smiling, “Fucking incredible”.

With a deep breath he returns to the aisles to procure both types of bleach, pays and heads out into the night with a cheery, “Wish me luck!”

The cleanup must’ve gone well, because Eddie’s back a few days later and is making conversation.

“Hey, um, I remember reading once about some guy in England, years ago, who, like, melted people. You ever heard of that?”

You contemplate for a moment.

“Oh, d’you mean the Acid Bath Murderer, John Haigh?”

“Acid bath? Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“Y’know, that’s actually one of my favourite case studies! It was one of the stories that first got me interested in true crime. 1940s England, dude thought he could get away with it if there was no body. Nope, sorry! When I first heard about it I thought it was really inventive, though he actually took the idea from a French guy who’d already done similar. Makes you wonder how many undiscovered dissolved bodies there might’ve been before and since, huh?”

You wax lyrical for a little while on the relative merits and disadvantages of the dissolving of human bodies in acid, even relating an anecdote about how your lab partner once chose the wrong combination of acid and beaker type, finishing with, “Hoo-boy, that was a mess!”

You become a little awkward, aware of how long you’ve been talking and the possibly-disturbingly-creepy level of detail you’ve gone into, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind and presents somewhat like he’s paying attention in a chem class. Regardless, you decide to change the subject.

“I meant to ask last time, how did that wood chipping project go?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, really good, thanks. Y’know that advice you gave me about the chipper came in real handy. It was quite the show!” He looks gleefully at you, flashing that brilliant smile. A few small fireworks quietly explode in your innards.

“I’m so glad! Did the client like it?”

“Oh yeah, baby, they were thrilled!”

Baby. That’s new. You like it, and you add it to your growing mental filing system labelled ‘Evidence that Eddie might like me’. You can’t even remember what letter you’re up to now, you’re just enjoying stuffing it fuller every time he graces you with another morsel.

“They even gave me a nice bonus, for my ‘theatricality’.” He begins to lift his arms, but stops himself, resisting doing the jazz hands things again, reasoning there’s only so many times he can do an impersonation of a court jester before it puts someone off. “Said they’re gonna recommend me to their buddies too.”

More softly, and a little bashful, looking through his lashes he adds, “Kinda wish you could’ve been there, actually.”

Oh my, is he blushing again?

“Yeah, me too. I’d love to see you work sometime…”

“You would?”

Okay, he’s definitely blushing.

He leans in over your counter, close, so he can say in a low voice,

“Uh, just so we’re on the same page, you know what I do has nothing to do with art projects, right?”

Holding his gaze, and with your voice surprisingly steady, you swallow before confirming, “Yes, Eddie. I know.”

He huffs out a stuttering breath, and the air between you seems to heat.

He lifts one hand and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Hey listen, uh, I dunno if this is a little too forward, or weird, or y’know, whatever,” He’s rambling now. It’s adorable.

“I was kinda gonna ask you if you wanted to get milkshakes sometime, but, uh, maybe you’d actually wanna come out on a job with me? I’ve got one coming up on Sunday that I could really use an extra pair of hands on. I could pay you of course, y’know, for your time.”

You want to blurt out that, for him, you’d willingly burn the world and everyone in it for free. Instead, you smile wide, and settle for,

“Well, my tutors are always encouraging us to get real world experience…”

“Great, so I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift?”

“Sure, Eddie. I’ll look forward to it.”

You’re both grinning, stuttering messes.

“Great! Great. Uh, okay then, I guess I’ll see you Sunday?”

As he turns to leave, you stop him with one final question.

“Just one more thing Eddie. Should I bring my own coveralls..?”

If you got this far, thanks so much for reading!!

Comments and reblogs make my world spin, do let me know what you think.

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xjustakay · 8 months

Text

(9/16) prompt: vision — 1,052 words (fame au pt.3; famous boyfriends pre-their first premiere together - pt.1, pt.2, pt.4, pt.5) @jegulus-microfic

Regulus is sure that Dorcas is pacing impatiently down in his building’s lobby while he finishes examining his reflection. She’s an ‘on time is late and early is on time’ sort of manager and Regulus tests that consistently. Especially since he and James started seeing each other, even more since they’ve gone public.

It’s their first premiere together, two months of their relationship being officially confirmed for the masses under their belt. Even Regulus is sometimes stunted by it still —the outpour of both shock and support that’s come from finally confirming that James is his boyfriend. The Marauders’ tour has been over for months, Regulus wrapped filming his latest project about a week and a half ago. Now, outside of their private time for just the two of them, it’s all various Hollywood events he’s invited to. Except it’s different now, because he gets to have James at his side walking carpets and taking photos.

He adjusts the collar of the white suit jacket his stylist picked out for him. They’ve forgone a shirt underneath and the jacket dips low down his bare chest when it’s left partially open. It leaves the diamond encrusted choker of pieces made to look like bones wrapped around his throat all the more apparent. The styling team had left a little while ago, giving him and James a brief bit of privacy before needing to leave.

Of course, most of that time thus far has been spent looking in a mirror, making sure he likes how he looks. He’s allowed to be a little vain, it’s practically in his job description. Regulus fluffs up the front of messily styled black curls before finally exiting the penthouse bathroom into the adjoined bedroom.

“Ready?” He asks.

James sits waiting for him at the foot of the bed in an all black crushed velvet suit; a picturesque opposite to the all white of Regulus’ ensemble. There’s a deep burgundy tie undone around his neck, left that way on purpose. A new pair of glasses were offered to him for the night, the squared-off frames the same shade of his silk tie, and they bring out the swirl of warm colors in James’ hazel eyes when he looks up from his phone.

Immediately upon his gaze landing on Regulus, James groans dramatically, like he’s in physical pain. He pinches his eyes shut tightly beneath the furrow of his brow, head slumping backward heavily on his neck.

“God, we have to break up right now. I can’t deal with you looking like this anymore.”

Regulus snorts, a smirk twitching at his lips. “Feels a bit dramatic.”

“I’ll write a song about the split and everything. It’ll be so clever, everyone will know it’s about you without trying. I’ll call it ‘Heartache On the Big Screen.’” James sweeps his hand in the air in example before he looks at him with a faint grin, brows lifted. “Are you seeing the vision? Because I’m seeing the vision.”

“Mm, little cheesy, if you ask me,” Regulus hums, moving nearer to stand in front of him. James’ knees part automatically to make room for him there, hands settling at Regulus’ hips when Regulus tucks a hand beneath his chin to tilt his head backwards. “You’re already thinking up lyrics, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely.” James nods, tilts his head down to kiss at the back of Regulus’ hand in response to the soft laugh he lets out. “How do you feel about ‘a tragic story, starring you and me’ for part of the chorus?”

“I hate you,” Regulus laughs further.

“Just adding to my heartbreak, love, you’re really doing me a favor here.”

“You make it so hard to date you.” It’s the world’s biggest fucking lie and Regulus knows it.

James’ eyes flash triumphantly like he knows it, too. “‘Started out like in the movies, but it ended like a bad dream.’ Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Mhm, keep it coming.”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Regulus dips down to press a lingering kiss to his lips. James hums contently into it and Regulus can feel his unrelenting smile right against his own mouth. Both of James’ hands glide up beneath the back of his suit jacket, settling on the warm skin at his lower back.

It’s enough for Regulus to inch back, their lips still brushing as he murmurs, “Don’t fuck up this outfit, baby.”

“I’ll save that for later.” James winks at him.

With a huff of a laugh, Regulus pushes against his shoulders to put a little distance between them. He takes a small step back but holds out one hand expectantly for his boyfriend.

“Car’s waiting downstairs, Dorcas said. We should get to the photo op’s before you make up anymore fake songs.”

“Fake songs,” James scoffs playfully, taking his hand and standing up. “I’m writing it, it’s so real.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Just you wait, Reg. It’s going to be a fan favorite.”

“You’re lucky I like you so much.”

James chuckles behind him as they get to the front door, crowds into Regulus’ back as he presses the needed buttons for the security system. James loops his arms around his waist from behind and hugs around him. A couple kisses at the side of his neck. Another hum right beside his ear that Regulus can hear the smile present in.

Regulus resists the instinctive urge to tilt back into him, open himself up fully to the physical attention. He can’t afford to go into this premiere looking rumpled or someone (Dorcas) really might kill him.

“I am lucky, you know,” James says softly; so sweet, so full of an adoration that nine months ago might have had Regulus bolting away in seconds.

Instead, now, Regulus turns his head to look at James sideways, affection bright in his own shining eyes. He kisses once at the line of James’ jaw, a second time at his cheek, a third at the corner of his mouth. It’s soft and it’s tender —an isolated moment of knowing that this is real and they’re finally letting themselves have it, have each other.

Then, Regulus jokingly ruins it when he says, “Yeah, you really are.”

James only laughs loudly as he’s tugged by the hand out of the apartment and toward the elevator.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #movie star reg and musician jamie my beloveds #s/o to 5 seconds of summer for the song james is talking about writing lmao #and s/o to mil for pointing out to me that fame au james would write it #also timmy’s bones and all look at london film festival #okay rambled in the tags bye #kay’s microfics #kay’s writing

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klausinamarink · 4 months

Text

Happy Accidents Allowed

Prompt: “Starry Night” (discord drabble from STWG and a happy birthday to @thefreakandthehair 🥳💜)

“That’s a perfect wall right there.” Eddie emphasizes his point by smacking a hand against the still-white, (thankfully) now dried paint. “Don’t ya agree, big boy?”

Steve puts his hands on his hips, letting himself survey every inch of the wall of their living room. It’s actually a small area, right next to the sliding door of the balcony, barely wide enough to fit his own frame even with his arms outstretched. It’s also the only wall in their new apartment left unpainted because Eddie had wanted it blank for a mural he wanted to do. Hence the many paint bottles and palettes around their feet.

Finally, Steve smacked his lips and said, “Better than a horse, I’ll say.”

It came out less clever than it did in his brain, but Eddie laughed hysterically anyways.

“Alright, I’m gonna start so do not distract me!” Eddie pointed at him with one of the paintbrushes.

“Even if it’s for meals?” Steve asked, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

Eddie paused. “Unless it’s for meals.”

“Even if you need a shower?”

“Unless I have to shower.”

“Even if-”

Steve cackled as he leapt away from Eddie’s attempt to smack his leg. “Even if I have to sleep, yes!”

He left Eddie alone then. Steve spent a while in their bedroom to finish unpacking the last couple boxes, before he peeked back in the living room.

Some of the wall was painted in a thick dark blue. Eddie was still hunched over on his spot, but Steve could see that his boyfriend already had some other colours done. They were too dark and blob-y looking for Steve to figure out what they were. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“So what exactly are you painting?” Steve tiptoed over, careful not to disturb Eddie.

Eddie hummed, not looking up from where he’s still painting. “Been wanting to try my version of Starry Night.”

“Starry Night?”

“Yeah, you know. That one Van Gogh painting.”

“Oh, I know that.”

They both fell into a comfortable silence. Steve kept watching Eddie until he finally looked up. “You wanna try?”

Steve blinked, “Huh?”

Eddie grinned, already handing him a paintbrush. “You can try painting too. It would be sort of cool if we did this together, actually. Like, I paint on this side, you paint on that side, we meet in the middle. Might be sweet.”

”Or hideous.” Steve muttered, taking the offered brush. Eddie laughed before turning back to his progress.

Steve stared at the remaining white space. He looked down at his brush. It’s one of the small ones that could do thinner strokes for the details. Probably a good choice Eddie gave him because Steve knew absolutely nothing about painting. Even in art classes as he had followed his teacher’s instructions, his projects always looked like a first grader’s attempt. Hell, he was pretty sure first grade was the last time he genuinely wanted to do painting on his own.

He took a deep breath. He can do this. He knows what Starry Night looks like, so all he has to do is paint what he remembers, right?

Steve sits down, dipping the brush in one of the blue paints. A lighter color. Because Starry Night had lots of cool brushstrokes and it makes sense to start from light to dark. Right?

Steve carefully taps the brush experimentally on the wall. As expected, the light blue paint appears as a new dot on the white wall, inches away from Eddie’s. But an inexplicable wave of dread comes over Steve. The longer he stares at the spot, the more it overwhelms him.

Because he doesn’t know what to do next.

Does he have to apply the same paint? Does he just have to bring the brush back and move it up and down? Did he have to add a new one? If he tried a different brush- no, it would just be the same, just more larger. Should he ask Eddie? No, it’ll just distract him anyways. Maybe if Steve left now- no, he would be a fucking asshole-

“I ruined it.” Steve said, blankly staring at the pathetic dot.

“What?” Eddie blinked at him. His eyes darted to the horrible blue spot and he made a small laugh. “Sweetheart, you just started-”

“I ruined it.” Steve repeated. Pressure started burning right behind his eyes. He immediately pinched the bridge of his nose, careful with the paintbrush he’s still holding. Fucking pathetic. “This was a mistake.”

“Wait, wait, Steve.” Eddie’s hands were on his wrists, gently bringing them down to their laps. Steve looked away, biting hard into his bottom lip. If he had to look at his boyfriend, Steve was certain he would just start sobbing and never stop.

“Steve.” Eddie said softly. His hand carefully cupped Steve’s face. Lingering, not turning his head to face Eddie. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“Like I said,” Steve clenched his jaw as he spoke, trying to stop the waterworks from going out, “I ruined it.”

There was a tiny rustle of clothes as Eddie moved forwards. His arms wrapped around Steve, easily pulling their bodies together. Steve couldn’t hold it anymore. He buried his face in his boyfriend’s shoulder, inhaling the smell of paint already ingrained in the fabric of his flannel. It soaked up his tears easily.

After Steve felt like he could breathe without feeling choked up, Eddie spoke again, “It’s your first time painting, right?”

Steve nodded. He turned his head so he could press his face against Eddie’s neck.

“I’m not expecting you to be a master painter.” Eddie paused, “Though it would be pretty cool if my boyfriend was secretly Van Gogh.” He cackled aloud when Steve good-heartedly pinched his arm in response. When he quieted down, Eddie leaned back so he was staring into Steve’s eyes. His thumb rubbed underneath them to wipe away any stray tears.

He continued, “It’s okay to fail, Steve. It’s okay to make mistakes, especially when you’re just starting something new. Believe me, I get the struggle. Sometimes, I come up with super cool ideas but I just tear my hair out when I can’t draw it exactly how I pictured it.”

“Really?” Steve asked quietly, even though he already witnessed plenty of those moments Eddie had just described, which was mostly amusing. But nothing about this situation feels funny to Steve. Surely, Eddie’s internally laughing at him right now.

But Eddie was only smiling at him, all so fondly, “Really. And there’s a lesson about it. If you think you ruined something, call it a happy accident.”

“Happy accidents?” Steve repeated it under his breath. Eddie’s smile grew wider as he playfully tapped his nose.

“Yep, no calling it a mistake or saying you ruined art. It’s just happy accidents.”

When they both leaned in to kiss, Steve thought about the circumstances that had brought them both here in this apartment, despite the horrors that had caused it. Thought about how if he hadn’t ran back to the Byers house that night, Steve’s life would’ve been more blissful but none the wiser. He wouldn’t have met the kids and known Eddie more this intimately.

Yeah, it sure was a happy accident. And that, Steve wouldn’t regret those spots of paint on his own mural of his life.

#klaus writes #steddie #stranger things

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nightgoodomens · 2 months

Text

Ok so here are my thoughts about the other stuff that happened yesterday because there’s 60 asks in my inbox and it feels a little mean to not acknowledge them. But because there’s 60 and it would take me 3 months to answer, I’m just going to give you my thoughts after you gave me yours instead of answering each ask separately.

As usual - don’t click ‘keep reading’ if you don’t want PR and relationship talk. These are my personal takes, I’m not saying they’re correct.

GT and DT

What happened yesterday was probably the most blatant PR they could have went for and it was so obvious and over the top that instead of making me go “aww” it made me go “when is the new project?”

There is a lot of power in subtlety. It feels real, soft, loveable. That’s what real couples do. They don’t have the need to promote their relationship to gain something out of it. But starting with DT name dropping GT during interviews, then the day of BAFTAs starting with paid for articles about the wife of the host, about things that happened many years ago, just to have an excuse to write about her, and then screaming omg cameras let’s kiss right in front of them - it’s insincere. It’s a show. Things like that happen for a reason. It’s the most basic PR move.

My guesses are;

> GT wants to come back to acting or basically have some sort of project so DT used the moment to bring attention to her. Helped her start off again. Remember also The Way was released today, just one day after BAFTAs.

> Or perhaps it was basically DT thinking you know what, I want to share this special day with the wife and the husband - so he had the articles written about GT and did the kiss, and then did the sketch and met with MS in the audience - he knew articles will be written about this too.

It will be verified soon enough - if GT announces anything that will be the reason for all the promo lately. If not - my guess is the other reason.

It’s quite clever really because DT gave her general visibility and then he made a whole show with Michael in a room with some of the best directors, producers, actors, castings… Look at us and how fantastic we are together! (Give DT and MS jobs together! 😂)

Well, also, he didn’t need to choose a plus one between GT and MS, clever bastard 😂 He had both with him on such an important night for him.

We all joke about what happened yesterday and how inseparable MS and DT are but this really was DT ensuring the spotlight is on his wife and his husband that night and they’re a significant part of his night. They’re both really important to him in whatever way you choose to believe. This is the two people he wanted to share the night with.

Media knows. Have you noticed there were a few close ups of Michael and nobody else? Not even GT, and definitely not AL.

AL and MS

Uh oh are we ready for this conversation.

I watched the Red Carpet. I think there are two problems - MS has checked out a long time ago, and AL has no idea what to do with herself but she wants *fame* and to meet celebrities.

I saw MS on a red carpet with someone he actually adores. It was a striking difference. That was DT. That was MS who showed off his partner, laughed, chatted, giggled, made him feel at ease, made sure the attention was on the slightly overwhelmed and excited DT, steered him a little. His arm around him was strong. He was there for him completely.

There’s none of that with AL.

I think what makes the awkwardness even worse is that she wants to be a supermodel but she’s actually too self conscious for cameras. She doesn’t know how to pose, she’s stiff, she doesn’t know if to open her mouth or not - she doesn’t have the confidence to just smile and be herself because what she worries the most about is the final product. So every time it comes out like there’s nothing between the ears. Like a puppet.

There’s actually quite a simple comparison - DT and GT on the same day. As far as I’m aware GT finds red carpets stressful and usually avoids them - but what did DT do? He kept on talking and making her laugh so she’d relax and so they got a few good shots. But that’s people who clearly share sympathy and respect for each other.

Now the elephant in the room - AL not being in the sketch.

I’m waiting for some beautiful excuse so I won’t be surprised we will get it but my guesses are;

> The simplest one - BAFTAs said VIP only. GT probably only got the line because she’s the host’s wife and so AL had no chance just being a partner of MS.

> Cheekier one - It was David’s night and like I said before, he wanted his people in it. AL isn’t one of them. He knows she’s not really MS’s either. We know GT/AL wife thing is bullshit.

> Honestly, maybe even Michael said he doesn’t want her. This is the man who’s been showing left and right he is not happy so…

> Well, anyway, let’s say this - I think if they wanted her to be in it, she would had been in it.

I will admit - damn that was cold and I’m not surprised she’s slightly lashing out today.

But you know what, I’m happy. I’m happy that David has a video with Michael to celebrate his BAFTAs. That he didn’t need to “give in” at any point. This was his night, he slayed it, he has fantastic memories for the rest of his life.

And the reviews have been fantastic so I see a return for him in the future.

And freaking hell I hope there are tv shows and movies being written for MS/DT as we speak.

#NightGoodOmens talks PR

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minisugakoobies · 11 months

Note

Sunny! I’d like to request #5 on the dirty texts with anyone - smutty dealers choice!

Ooooh, dealers choice?? Hmmm… I gotta go Yoongi on this one, I have not (and will never) recovered from the D Day tour. 😵‍💫

This was supposed to be a drabble but it's well over 1k so… sorry about that!! 💕

Title: Out of the Bag Now Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: friends to lovers?, a bit cracky, smut, Coworkers!AU Rating: M(18+) Warnings: accidentally dirty texts, misunderstandings, mutual pining, masturbation (m), almost turns into phone sex, reader is flustered af (in the best way!), ends on a cute note, prompt is highlighted in bold

You: Okay, so we have everything ready for the presentation tomorrow?

Yoongi: Yeah, we're good to go

Yoongi: Nothing to worry about, so try to get a good night's sleep

Yoongi: I know you didn't sleep before March's shareholder meeting

Glancing at the last text message, you sigh wistfully.

For over a year now, you've been madly in love with your coworker, Min Yoongi. Ok, love might be stretching it a bit. You're wildly in lust with the man.

He's everything you've ever wanted in a partner - cool, calm, collected, clever as fuck with an acerbic wit that always makes you laugh (while praying that you'll never been on the receiving end of its sharp sting). Plus, he's absolutely gorgeous, the kind of guy that people would use an example of "have you ever seen a man so beautiful you cried?"

Or maybe that's just you.

But he is strikingly handsome, and makes your knees go weak when he favors you with one of his rare smiles. They usually come out when he's being sweet to you. Like when he's making sure you're getting enough sleep.

So yeah, you're head over heels for him. If only you had the guts to do anything about it.

You: I'll try

You: But you too! No late night movie marathons again, Yoongi

You: Boss's orders

That's just a dumb joke between the two of you. You're colleagues, on the same level, but Yoongi had insisted that you take the lead on this project, since you had more familiarity with the product than he did. Another check in the "pros" column - he's a man who supports his other colleagues and isn't afraid to take orders.

Yoongi: Yes boss

Yoongi: You can't see it but I'm saluting you right now

He sends a few emojis through and you giggle. For the last few weeks, the two of you have been texting back and forth after hours. It's mostly shop talk, but lately the conversations have dragged on and on, drifting into the late night hours. As this one has. You've already finished your nightly skincare and have moved on to your dental routine.

Yoongi: Seriously though, try not to stress about tomorrow

You: Honestly, I'm not! I'm feeling pretty confident about this

Yoongi: Good. Then you can just relax tonight

You: That's the plan

You balance your phone in one hand while using your electric toothbrush with the other. Yoongi cracks a joke, and your response is a little mangled by your sole thumb's lack of dexterity.

You: Sorry abour any typos

You: I'm like typing with one hand

Three grey dots dance across your screen for a few seconds.

Yoongi: Oh shit, you're REALLY relaxing. I didn't realize it was that type of conversation

You spit into the sink, brow furrowing as you reread his message. What does he mean by that?

Then you scroll up and nearly scream. "I'm like typing with one hand"?? Oh my god, why the fuck did you say that to him? He doesn't know that you meant you were brushing your teeth!

Frantically, you start typing out a response, erasing and starting over a few times, trying to figure out the best way to say "hey no I'm a dumbass who was just brushing my teeth and not touching myself to you" even though the fact is that you have touched yourself while thinking about him, several times actually, but that's neither here or there -

and then a new message appears.

Yoongi: Hold on, let me catch up

Excuse me??

Your phone buzzes with an incoming call and you nearly throw it into the sink in shock when you see that it's Yoongi calling. It takes a few seconds for the command to answer the call to get from your brain to your finger.

"Yoongi?"

A happy sigh greets you. "Fuck, that's better. Wanted to hear your voice."

The floor seems like the safest place to be right now, so you collapse onto it, leaning back against the cabinets under the sink.

"You did?"

"Oh yeah. You've got such a pretty voice, YN. Bet it sounds even sweeter when you're coming," Yoongi rumbles, that's the only word for it, he rumbles in that deep-ass voice of his, and you slide until you're just lying on your back, staring up at the bathroom ceiling, waiting for death to claim you, because how the fuck are you supposed to go on living after this?

"I - um - thank you?"

Yoongi laughs, but there's a slight hiccup in it, and it dawns on you what he's doing right now while he's talking to you. He's catching up. Images flood your brain - Yoongi lying on a couch, or maybe on a bed, hand tucked into his pants, fingers wrapped around a hard cock - and you choke on your own saliva.

"You ok?"

"Yeah! Yes. I'm fine, thank you."

He chuckles again, and it's physically impossible but you swear you can feel the vibrations through the phone. "You sure? You sound a little flustered."

"Oh, I'm sorry." What the fuck are you supposed to be saying to him right now? You're pretty sure it's not apologizing, but that's what you do anyway.

"Don't be. It's really cute."

Well thank fuck for that.

"Yoongi," you steady yourself with a deep breath, "what I said earlier… I didn't mean I was touching myself."

Silence. A lot of silence. It's a relief when he speaks again, but it fades quickly as you catch the disappointment in his voice.

"Oh shit, really? I - fuck." Now who's flustered? "What - what were you doing?"

"Brushing my teeth."

"Oh. Huh." He sighs, sounding deflated. "Guess I just jumped to a conclusion that I… wanted."

"Oh," you echo. "That's…" Incredible? Unbelievable? The best thing you've heard since you were born?

"Listen, YN, I'm so sorry. This whole thing was just - fuck, just really inappropriate, and if I've made you feel uncomfortable, I'm truly sor-"

Sitting up, you wave your arm to stop him. As if he can see you right now. "No, no! Yoongi. Wait. It's not like that. I wasn't doing anything right now but… but I have."

More silence. You bite your lip as you wait for him to catch up, for real this time.

"You mean…"

"I mean, I've t-touched myself while thinking about you. Before." Clearing your throat, you cover your eyes with your free hand, hiding your face from an invisible audience. Somehow, it emboldens you to keep talking. "A lot, actually."

He exhales shakily. "Really?"

"Yeah. Yeah, really." Uncovering your face, you stand, propping yourself up against the counter as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Is that really you having this discussion right now? You start to laugh.

"I don't think I'm getting the joke," Yoongi says slowly.

"Holy shit, this is just so surreal, Yoongi," you inform him. "I never in a million years thought I'd be admitting that I - Jesus, that I masturbate to thoughts of you! Not over the phone like this. Maybe after like-"

"A date?"

You huff out another laugh. "After a dozen, maybe. This is… I'm extremely out of my depth here."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I think you're doing a great job." He's laughing now, too, and it makes you grin so wide your cheeks actually hurt. "How about this - you let me take you on a date tomorrow night, to celebrate our successful presentation, and maybe by the end of the night, we'll know where we stand on the timeline for surprising confessions?"

"Okay. Yeah. Yes." You close your mouth to prevent yourself from continuously accepting his offer.

"Great. Then… I'll see you tomorrow." His voice drops to a soft whisper. "Sweet dreams, YN."

"Good night, Yoongi."

Okay, so you may have lied to him. Because there's no way you're getting any sleep tonight.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

#bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfic

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