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cozage · 6 months

Note

Hello, can I request for aged up characters x reader. Like them getting hit by a quirk that can age people up temporarily like them being in their 60's or something. Thank youuuuuu.

A/N: I FINALLY DID IT HERE U GO Characters: gn reader x Zoro, Usopp, Law, Ace Cw: Ace’s gets a little suggestive ;) Total word count: 1.2k

A Glimpse of the Future

Zoro

When you entered the kitchen, you were startled to find an older man walking around so casually. An older man with a scarred eye and green hair you knew so well, now slightly streaked with gray.

“Zoro?!” You asked cautiously, staring at the man.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled. His voice was deeper than you remembered, but it was the same voice.

“What hap-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He set his swords down and sat on the chair. After a heavy sigh, he finally spoke again. “Got hit by an ability that makes you old. Just a stupid prank from some kid.”

“Is it permanent?” you asked, grabbing the tea kettle off the stove. You had to admit, you liked this look on Zoro. But you were afraid of what it could mean.

“Should be back to normal in a few hours.” He shook his head and sighed. “Everything aches, dammit. I hate this.”

“You always were an old man in soul,” you teased. You were relieved that he wouldn’t be this way forever, and now you could joke around with him.

“I’m not an old man!” he yelled.

You had to turn around and pretend to work on your tea to stifle your laugh. He really was sensitive over this. Just like an old man would be.

“Calm down, now,” you soothed, walking over to him with a warm cup for the two of you to share. “Would you like some tea?”

He eyed it, and you could tell he wanted a drink, so you passed it off to him.

“You don’t look bad, you know.” You ran your fingers through his hair, gently trailing over the new silver streaks.

“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled, taking a drink and humming in delight. “I’m not meant to be this old.”

“Darling, I disagree.” You paused to kiss his cheek. “You were made for your golden years.”

Usopp

“Quick! Y/N! I need you!” An old man who looked shockingly like Usopp grabbed your hand.

You scowled, pulling away from him. “Who the hell are you?!”

“I’m Usopp from the future!” He yelled, trying to usher you from the deck. “I’ve traveled through space and time just to reach you and give you a warning!”

“What warning?” you asked. You were still cautious, but he did act a lot like the Usopp you knew. The only big difference was the wrinkles and the streaks of gray in his long, tied-back hair.

“Come with me immediately!” he said. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you! We don’t have much time!”

“Usopp, stop. You’re scaring me.” Why had he not seen you in years? Why did he have such little time with you? None of it made sense.

Old Usopp grabbed your face, holding you close to him. “On this day, in twenty years…you’re going to disappear right from this very spot!”

“What?” you whispered, trying to hold back tears. “What do you mean?”

“He’s lying to you!” Nami yelled. “He got hit by an ability that makes him old and he’s making it everyone else’s problem!”

Your fear turned to anger, and you shoved Usopp away from you. “That wasn’t funny!” you shouted, wiping a tear from your eye.

Usopp started cackling. “Oh man, you look terrified! I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That wasn’t funny,” you repeated, still glaring at him. In hindsight, it was kind of humorous. You just wished the prank had been played on someone else.

Usopp pulled you in for a hug, his soft, weathered lips kissing your temple. “Forgive me?”

“This time,” you giggled slightly from his stray hairs tickling your skin. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“Deal,” he said. “Now let's go trick someone else.”

Law

An older man with Law’s exact outfit stormed into your room and rushed to the bathroom.

“Don’t say anything,” he said.

“Law?” You cautiously peered around the door frame.

His expressions and stance were familiar, but he was older. Much older.

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

You flinched at the sternness in his voice; it was much harsher when mixed with the gruffness of age.

He noticed you in the mirror, wearily standing back and watching him silently. His tone had been extreme, and he knew it.

He gave a sigh and pulled himself away from the mirror to walk towards you. “I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated about all this.”

You reached up and ran your hand across his hair, the black locks now streaked with white. You smiled to yourself. Even in his old age, Law was still incredibly handsome.

“You’re old,” you whispered out the sentence, grinning at him.

Law’s eye twitched, but he said nothing in response. You could tell he was pouting.

“Is it permanent?” you asked, rubbing your finger across his softened skin, now decorated with wrinkles.

“Should wear off by tomorrow morning,” he grumbled.

You hummed pleasantly, still examining his weathered face. His sharp, golden eyes were so out of place on a face that old.

“Well, Trafalgar Law,” you purred, running your hands through his hair and placing a kiss on his lips. “If this is what I have waiting in store for the future, I simply cannot wait.”

Ace

The door to your cabin opened, Ace’s silhouette blocking out the light behind him. You couldn’t see his face, but something felt…off.

“Don’t freak out,” Ace’s voice was far more husky than you remembered it, and his words sent a jolt of panic through your bones.

“Ace?” You sat up in the bed, squinting to get a better look.

“It’s only temporary,” he said.

“Ace, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” You stood out of bed and walked to the door to greet him.

Yes, something was definitely off. His body was bigger than you remembered, more stocky and muscular. His hair was longer. It was Ace, but it wasn’t the Ace you knew.

“Something went wrong on the mission, but everyone’s okay. We’re just…”

You couldn't stand it anymore. You turned his body slightly so you could see it in the light.

“Old!” you exclaimed, staring at him with wide eyes. “You’re old!”

You could see a slight flash of irritation dance across his face, and you giggled. He certainly was attractive, even irritated in his old age. The kind of old man who would yell at kids to stay away from his house one moment and then run to play with them the next.

“You’re handsome, Portgas D. Ace.” You tucked his long hair behind his ear and ran your thumb across his cheek.

“You think so?” He gave you a slightly cocky grin, but you could tell he was still self-conscious about it.

Your eyes trailed down his body, sinful thoughts filling your head. “How long are you like this?”

He shrugged. “Few hours, I think. We can just sleep it off.”

You blushed, your fingers trailing down his chest. “Who says we have to sleep it off?”

Ace’s mouth fell open, and then quickly corrected into a devious grin. “You, my dear, have major daddy issues.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re one to talk.”

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vinceaddams · 1 year

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Top 5 historic clothing items we should bring back into style (stockings on men, big cuffs on coats etc.)

Well I am very biased, because my everyday clothes are mostly 18th century menswear inspired, but for a list as short as 5 it's good to narrow it down!

1. 18th century shirts. Big puffy soft linen shirts. Best shirts. Comfiest shirts. Though tragically, since they get softer with more washing, they're at their absolute most comfortable right before they wear out.

(This one's from the post where I copied the tiddy-out violinist painting.) Besides being the nicest softest comfiest, they're also the most economical, being made entirely from rectangles. And they're versatile, they look good with lots of different garments! Someday I will do a very detailed youtube tutorial for my machine sewn shirt method. I've done so many now that I think I've finally got it down.

2. Adjustable waistbands. Why did this ever stop being a thing? 18th century breeches have lacing at the back, then in the 19th century trousers have a buckle tab. Now they do not, even though we're all still humans with bodies that change. (These are my orange silk breeches)

Do you know how many hours of my life I've spent taking in or letting out the waist seams of modern trousers? I don't know either, but I've been an alterations tailor since 2019, so it's got to be a fair amount.

All that waist altering wouldn't be necessary if they still made them adjustable! Waistlines fluctuate, so too should waistbands!!

3. Shoulder capes attached to coats. This was a thing in the late 18th century, and in the 19th, and I think into the early 20th too. It adds extra protection from the rain and snow, and it looks cool.

(c. 1812, The Met.)

(c. 1840-60, MFA Boston. The cape on this one is detachable)

You can make them long or short, and stack them up like pancakes or just have one. I've got 2 small ones on my corduroy coat, and one on my dark blue wool. Both cut from almost the same 1790's-ish pattern.

I also want to give a shoutout to fitted sleeves! I love me some two piece sleeves with a distinct elbow! And the coat pockets were bigger back then.

4. Indoor caps. I don't care what era or how fancy you go with it, I just want people to wear caps indoors when it's cold! This one's super simple, it's just a tube of linen tied with a ribbon.

(Detail from Le Marchand d’Orviétan ou l’opérateur Barri by Etienne Jeaurat, 1743.)

If it's cold in your apartment you need slippers for the feets and a cap for the head. Speaking of which.

5. Medieval hoods. This one is wayyy outside my usual era, but the wintery below-freezing weather has just started here and the knit hat I've been wearing isn't quite long enough to cover my ears. I want to make a simple hat with ear flaps, but I also wouldn't be opposed to trying to work something vaguely similar to this into my wardrobe. It looks so warm!

(Image source. Also she has a printable pattern available!) I actually made one of these once, an entire decade ago. But it was scratchy blanket wool and I've since given it away.

That's some of the main things I think we should bring back! There are lots of other things too, like men's nightgowns, and waistcoats with little scenes embroidered on them, but for this list I tried to be mostly practical.

#ask #ask meme #clothing #fashion #18th century

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carolmunson · 6 months

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spin doctor | e.m. x reader

mini ficlet, eddie munson works at a record store. he’s a little snobby. sort of shy!reader if you squint? it’s the very late 90s.

tw: 18+ references to smut/virginity, all around meet-cute-ish.

The rain slaps off the top of your coffee cup and into your eyes while you take a sip, woefully regretting not bringing an umbrella because the weather man said it was only misting. This isn't mist, this is just under a downpour, the hood of your dad's old canvas jacket doing little to protect you from the rain while it darkens with each drop the green fabric absorbs. You stop at the corner, protecting yourself from the weather under the awning of a laundromat. Squinting up towards the overcast gray sky, you double check the cross streets, two more blocks and you'll make it there. There being the record store that you found in the yellow pages after you inherited your parent's record player in their latest attic clean out. Your dad was smart though, sold all of the records that were in mint condition to collecters -- which left you recordless and sort of at a loss of where to start now that they were only sold at specialty stores.

You hurry your way down the next two blocks, finally seeing the sign for VI Chord Records lit up across the street in buzzing red neon. You wait to cross, seeing the reflection of the light in the wet asphalt while the sky starts to darken. Winter easing in slow these days while the nights start to come quicker than expected.

The door jingles when you open it, two guys at the check out counter looking up breifly and then back to their conversation; the other patrons don't even look. You take a breath, happy that at least no one is paying attention. You've never been to a record store before -- bought music, sure; CDs and cassettes but never vinyl -- that was like an old people thing. But your dad couldn't stop going on and on about how music just sounds better when you listen to it like that; and to be fair a lot of your favorites from the 60s and 70s sounded flat on your Walkman. You were on the hunt for the authentic experience now, the real deal.

You start at the 'New Arrivals' bin, pulling down your hood and taking off your headphones to put in your nylon back pack while you search. You sip your coffee while your fingers flick, flick, flick through the sleeves, crunching on and over the plastic protective covering of each record. You don’t know who most of the artists are, names hidden in intricate artwork or vulgar close ups of tits and crotch. You laugh at a few under your breath.

You continue your search, going over to the K section to see if you can find Carole King’s Tapestry, only to be inundated with Kiss record after Kiss record. Kix, Krokus, Kick Axe — King nowhere in the bunch. You let out a soft sigh, eyes scanning the back wall over the guys heads at the check out counter. Guitars hang on the velvet wall paper, gleaming with a fresh sign with scribbles of signatures on them. You land over by the S section, fingers flick flick flicking again to run into Slayer, T’s taken over by Twisted Sister. You don’t even realize how much time has gone by until you take a sip of coffee and nothing is left.

“Can I help you find something?”

You jump, not expecting to head a disembodied voice by the back of your neck, “Huh?”

“You just seem like you’re not finding what you’re looking for, can I help?”

You turn while he asks, one of the guys from the counter who looks like he’s stuck somewhere in the 80s and his grunge phase. His hair is to his shoulders, wavy and cut into a shag that put your moms 70s hair do to shame. The slight stubble on his chin and cheeks stretches with his smile — customer service perfection, but only for pretty things like you.

His crosses his arms over his army green tee, matching your coat that’s nearly dry now. His tattooed arms bulge slightly in the stance, straining against the small sleeves. Your eyes focus on the guitar pick dangling in the center of his chest; suddenly embarrassed by the attention.

“Um,” you start, eyes flicking up to meet his brown ones — soft and eager, like he’s excited to talk to you. Your eyes scan down to the black and gray flannel tied around his narrow waist, falling limply over his dark wash worn jeans into combat boots.

“Uh,” you stutter for a second, trying to not to get caught up in this handsome stranger, “I’m sorta new to records. My dad just gave me his but he sold all his good stuff so um — starting from zero I guess.”

“Ooh, nice,” he grins, “So a virgin, huh?”

You sputter, “Well um — no but —”

“Vinyl virgin, sweetheart,” he winks, “Don’t worry. I don’t need to know the horny details.”

“So what were you trying to find today?” he asks, leaning against the stacked milk crates full to the brim at the center of the room, “We actually just got some solid rares in if you’re trying to start a good collection.”

“I just wanna listen to oldies,” you laugh.

He laughs too, it’s smoky and cool, “Nah, nah, I hear you. What kinda oldies like — early Black Sabbath or…?”

You bite your lower lip, “I was more thinking like um, Motown? The Temptations? Maybe some James Taylor. I was mostly trying to find The Flamingos single for —”

He laughs while you continue on but then realizes you aren’t joking, head coming back to center, “Oh you’re, you’re serious?”

You feel heat lick at your cheeks and chest, sweat slickly creeping on the top of your back, “Yeah I thought…it’s a record store so—”

“Not that kind, princess,” he shrugs, hands dropping to lean against the crates behind him, “We only sell hard rock and metal here for the most part. You could check the dollar bins for drop offs, we don’t really sort those.”

“Oh,” you nod, averting his gaze while you see the big bin in the corner labeled ‘Dollar Donations’.

“Yeah maybe you’ll find your doo-wop stuff in there or something,” his voice has a hint of teasing to it that makes your teeth grit.

“Are you like, shitting on me?” you ask shakily, kind of surprised this is actually happening to you. That this guys is legitimately being a jerk over wanting music that maybe he’s not into.

“No, no, no,” he urges, “No. I’m sorry, seriously. It’s just that we don’t really get people who come in here not looking for what we sell. We’re kinda well known for being a vintage metal store.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t know that so,” you shrug, defeated weighing down your shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he assures, sweet smile tugging his lips up to reveal deep dimples, “You’re a vinyl virgin, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” you roll your eyes, making your way to the bin while he follows behind you.

“Maybe if you tell me what kind of music you like now I can find a good one for you,” he offers, hand resting on his chest that’s covered in silver rings and chipped nail polish, “I’ve been told I make great recommendations.”

“I’ve been liking Blink-182 lately. Backstreet Boys on the other side of the coin,” you shrug, “And um, one of my friends has been trying to get me into Nine In Nails.”

“Now we’re talking,” he smiles, “There we go. Anything else? What’s the other older stuff you like?”

“Uh, um,” you shrug again, “Elton John? Eric Clapton?”

He nods again, “Okay, some of this stuff I can work with. What about uh, hmm, Fleetwood Mac? Sort of your vibe?”

You smile at him without meaning to, making him nearly stutter at the site, “Yeah, that’s sort of my vibe.”

“Alright,” he nods while he racks his brain for the perfect album to pick for you, “I think I got an idea of what to pull for you.”

“Okay,” you cross your arms with a smirk, “Fine. I hope it’s impressive.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he grins cockily, “Never had anyone complain about me popping their cherry.”

“At least take a girl for a drink first,” you joke back, “I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Eddie,” his hand extends out and you take it, his skin warm and slightly clammy at his never ending bumbling when talking to girls like you, “Happy to be taking your vinyl virginity today.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand slightly when you introduce yourself before letting go, “Be gentle, please. I’m new to this.”

“C’mon,” he cocks his head to the opposite wall by the ‘F’ section, “I got a lot to show you. We’ll go slow.”

He winks again; making you swallow hard. It might not have been where you meant go today, but it might have been exactly where you were meant to be.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie stranger things #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things au #eddie munson au

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darlingdawnvintage · 7 months

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Jean Shrimpton • 1960’s Fashion Icon

#vintage fashion #shop vintage #vintage #vintage shop #jean shrimpton #fashion icon #60's fashion #sweater weather #knitwear #tight leggins #retro aesthetic #vintage fashion photography #fashion model #mod fashion #fall vibes

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records-of-dirt · 3 months

Text

Create Your Own Soil Profile!

A garden’s soil is the base of all its growth, and knowing how to properly interact with your soil can make all the difference!

Step 1 Site Observations

Take a few photos of your site (project area)

Note down:

what vegetation is there?

is it near water?

the slope

approximate exposure to sun

Step 2 Take a soil profile

Set out a tarp or a garbage bag

Dig a hole about 3 feet deep (you may want a friend’s help!)

Place that soil in piles onto the tarp, sorted into different soil layers

Remember horizons! (O, A, E, B, C, R(bedrock))

Make a sketch of a soil profile, and measure the depth of each horizon

The top of the profile should start with 0 cm

Refill the hole, and try to return each type of soil in order!

Step 3 Build your profile

Describe each layer of soil, moisture/structure/color/smell

Use the “feel” method to take notes

Step 4 Drainage

Dig a hole 1 foot deep and 1 foot wide(ish)

Fill the hole with water and measure how long it takes to fully drain

An ideal time is around 10 to 30 minutes!

Note down the time

Keep in mind that even if the soil type would suit desert-like plants more, think of the weather. If it rains a good deal the drainage can matter less(or more!)

Step 5 Biological Activity

Bury a pair of cotton underwear(I know it’s silly)

Wait about 60 days

Unearth the undies, the more tattered they are the more activity there is!

Step 6 pH Testing

OSU Lab for Oregon, and many states have soil testing labs

Soil pH Meter

DIY Test

Step 7 Hardiness Zone

This just takes looking at a map!

Hardiness zones can tell you about the weather’s highs & lows in a particular area

USDA Plant Hardiness Map

And that 's it! It's a lot, and you don’t have to do everything. Each step can provide a better view of how to properly support your garden, and can be fun activities to do with friends and family!

I’ve included a template for a complete soil profile, but feel free to make them as fancy as y’all want!

Sincerely,

records of dirt

#solarpunk #permaculture #soil #geology #gardening #biology #ecology

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chere-indolente · 1 year

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Newlyn Fisher Clothing Set

I come to you today with this little historical seaside fashion interlude (before going back to work on more 1880′s sets). This set includes cable knit sweaters in high and low waisted, and variations on traditional fishermen smocks. More pics and download below

This set is partly inspired by the works of the school of Newlyn, a group of painters known to have depicted the surrounding of Newlyn, a Cornish coastal town, and its many fishermen in the 1880′s to 1900′s. And here is the painting that I referenced in the promo picture.

————————— Cableknit Sweater ————————

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This is the sweater from the Werewolf pack without the little laced up strings on the shoulders (why do you always add these unnecessary details EA ? 😅). I’ve made a short version (S) for my high waisted needs and a long (L) version, for both masc and fem frames, as well as both adult and children.

Cableknit sweaters originated from Ireland, in the Aran Islands, though other types of knitted jumpers called gansey already existed in the British, Irish and Channel isles. They were created between the 1890′s and 1900′s. They were initially knitted with unwashed and undied wool. Both the natural lanolin from the virgin wool and the knitted patterns made for water resistant sweaters and as such : good alternatives to the previously used ganseys made of oiled wool died with indigo.

These Aran sweaters slowly became some fashionable sportswear item during the 20′s and 30′s, and later reached its peak popularity in the 50s’ and 60′s worn by the likes of Grace Kelly and Steve McQueen.

40 solid swatches

for adults and children

2 lenghts : S & L

——————————— Vareuse V1 ——————————

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Vareuses are a style of fishermen smocks with a V neck. This style was typical of Brittany fishermen though I have seen depiction of Norwegian fishermen for example sporting this style of smocks on 1880s paintings too. While I couldn’t find substancial informations on their origins and date of appereance, vareuses seem to have been used at least as far as mid 19th century and were still worn as work wear up til the mid 20th.

It is said that traditionally fishers wore different colors depending on their fishing style : yellow ones for those shellfish picking, rust colored ones for those using fish traps, red ones for oyster farmers and blue ones for those fishing in the open seas.

Fishermen smocks were oiled to be water repellant and worn on top of clothes and knitted garments to protect them from water and keep them relatively clean.

On this 1st version of the vareuse I’ve not put any clothing “underneath” to allow for warm weather and for combinations with accessory shirts or turtlenecks.

33 solid swatches

for adults and children

——————————— Vareuse V2 ——————————

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This 2nd version of a vareuse include a cableknit jumper sticking out of the V neck collar. The set also includes an overlay to pick the color of said cableknit jumper.

33 solid swatches

39 solid swatches on the cableknit overlay (located in the right wrist section)

for all ages

————————— Cornish Crewneck ————————

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Similarly to the vareuse, the crewneck is a style of fishermen smocks. This style is traditionally associated with Cornwall, in the north west of England. Cornish crewneck smocks were used similarly to vareuses.

33 solid swatches

for all ages

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Download : dropbox — simfileshare

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 5 months

Text

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 31

Part 1 Part 30

It’s felt like hours since Eddie was left alone in the small room, but the large clock ticking away in front of his eyes is its own form of psychological torture, telling him it’s been less than fifteen minutes.

Is this the way time passes for dogs? Years passing within hours, until suddenly you’re on your deathbed. The clock ticks again. Eddie starts screaming to be let out. For the fourth time.

It must work because the door bursts open, random goon number five leading the way in, crouching behind Eddie and uncuffing him. His wrists feel raw from his tugging, fingers full of ants from his circulation being cut off. He cradles them to his chest, rubbing the feeling away.

“Get up,” Hopper says from where he’s standing at the door, Wayne by his side. “We’re wasting time.”

Eddie stands up slowly, eyes darting from person to person, trying to figure out what’s happening. “I don’t understand.”

Hopper turns and strides out of the room, not waiting for anyone to follow. Wayne gestures for him to hurry it along as Eddie rushes to his side. It’s only once he’s out of the small room that he realizes Hopper isn’t leading the charge but following two more goons with guns in their hands.

Eddie jogs to catch up, Wayne trailing behind. “What’s happening?” he asks, once he’s at Hopper’s side.

“We came to an agreement.”

“What?” Eddie demands loudly. At Hopper’s warning look, he lowers his voice and asks, “what agreement?”

Hopper sighs. “Look, everything that’s happened here, and everything that’s gonna happen? We don’t talk about it.”

“What?” Eddie asks, voice raised once more.

Hopper stops, sending their entire precession of goons with guns into an awkward fumble to keep them in sight and close ranks. “You want Steve back?” Hopper asks, glaring at Eddie like it’s somehow his fault that Steve is there in the first place. “This place had nothing to do with it. That’s the deal. You got it?”

Eddie glares incandescently furious at the thought of them getting away with it. All those days rotting alone in the Upside-Down, the way he can still feel ash coating his tongue, all these hours later. He bites his lip on the rage and says, “I’ve got it.”

They continue on.

The passage gets narrow and bright, more like a hospital than a shady government agency. It leads to an antechamber, just as full of white paint and emptiness, except the pops of color that are the three suits lined up – vacant and waiting.

They’re yellow and plastic-looking, like a cheap costume from a ‘60’s horror movie.

“What’s this?” Eddie asks.

There’s a man in a lab coat, holding a clipboard as he looks things over and makes little tick marks on his paper. He doesn’t look up from his task as he answers. “Protection,” he says casually, like they’re discussing the weather, “the atmosphere is toxic.”

“My boy was in there,” Wayne says gruffly.

“Steve is in there right now!” Eddie says, feeling his heartbeat tick up and skip around.

“Hey!” Hopper says, clapping to get their attention. “Put them on.”

Wayne and Eddie share a look, but both comply. The suit sticks strangely to his bare skin, like it’s a crappy rain jacket, and not a device that’s supposed to be able to protect their lungs and skin. The helmets are even worse – boxy and claustrophobic. Eddie wants to take his off immediately. As if sensing his thoughts, Wayne gives him a squint-eyed look. He leaves it on, grumbling about all the toxic fumes his already taken in.

They go, Wayne leading the charge with his shotgun in hand. Goons of both science and gun varieties watch them go from a distance that Eddie finds suspicious.

“How much do you want to bet that they don’t expect us to come back?” Eddie asks.

“Don’t matter,” Wayne says, keeping his eyes trained on the prize. “We’re getting your boy.”

Hopper twitches his head like he wants to glare at him, and Eddie’s suddenly grateful for the shelter the boxy helmets provide.

The gate, when it appears looks like the mouth of a cave, slimy and dripping, looking almost organic as is secretes and pulses in tandem to some heartbeat Eddie can’t even begin to comprehend. Ash is billowing out like snow. And it’s all that same, familiar red.

Eddie feels like he should be afraid, but it doesn’t come. Squeezing through the entrance behind Wayne feels like going home. Even as the other two look around at the wasteland of a place in shock, Eddie wants to take off his helmet and breath it in.

No one speaks as Eddie leads at a brisk pace that has his lungs burning immediately. Every snap of a twig under one of their boots has Wayne raising his shotgun and Hopper reaching for the holster at his hip as Eddie plows doggedly on.

It’s like now that he’s on the other side, the fishhook in his sternum is urging him on, faster, faster. Toward Steve.

The Harrington house looms large above them, but Eddie already knows it’s too late before they reach what’s left of the front door. It’s caved in, mahogany splintered straight down the middle. Anything could walk inside.

“He’s not here,” Eddie says, hoping the tug at his sternum means that Steve’s out there somewhere, and not just dead.

Hopper doesn’t listen, just shoves his way past the shards of what’s left of the Harrington’s austere front door. Wayne waits for him, mutters a quiet, “we’ll make it quick,” as they follow.

Eddie knows where to go, leads the way up winding stairs to Steve’s empty plaid bedroom in this empty house. The closet door has been ripped clean off, bolts attaching it to nothing but air.

Eddie looks down at the next of blankets on the carpet, looks for blood by rote, doesn’t find any.

It looks just the same as Eddie last saw it, past the destruction. His dirty clothes are still puddled on the floor, somehow still wet days later. Eddie’s pillow is nestled into the same place in the closet, like Steve was saving him a place for when he came back.

“He’s not here,” Eddie repeats, leading the way back out of Steve’s empty bedroom and down the winding stairs.

Wayne and Hoppers footsteps follow, Hopper pausing to look around like he’s casing the joint. “It was hurt,” he calls.

It almost hurts to turn away from the front door, from that tug tug tug. Wayne and Hopper are both peering down at a spot on the Harrington’s white living room carpet. It’s pooled with blood black enough that it looks like a misplaced shadow.

“Where is it?” It sounds like Nancy’s voice, echoing over from the other side.

“It has to be dead.” And there’s Johnny boy.

“Wheeler?” Hopper calls, alarmed.

“She’s not here,” Eddie replies. “Her and Jonathan must have done something stupid.”

Wayne, who had only caught the tail-end of their mad-dash plan to lure the Demogorgon to the other side, eyes the stained carpet and says, “that explains the blood.”

Eddie reaches out, brushes his hand across a lamp as he passes, basking in the way the light feels almost warm in his palm before he walks back out into the broken world through the Harrington’s broken front door.

The fishhook pulls. Eddie follows.

Part 32

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic

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astravv · 4 months

Note

PROMPT 11 (SMUT) FOR ALHAITHAM IS SO BEING ON MY MIND RN I CANT GET IT OUT

smut prompt 11 — alhaitham x fem! reader

a/n : NO CUZ ME TOO :,) here’s prompt 11 with alhaitham!!

prompt 11 — ❝i want to watch you take your clothes off❞

cw — sexual content , praising

pairing(s) — alhaitham x fem! reader

story — alhaitham and y/n have been together for awhile, but they have never experienced sex or anything remotely close to it before. y/n wears his clothes, which makes alhaitham feel things he hasn’t felt before with y/n.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

it was so cold. probably the coldest it’s been in sumeru for awhile. usually it’s nasty, humid weather. you didn’t really bother buying clothes for cold weather because it’s not like it ever really got cold. usually the coldest it would get would be 60s or 70s.

today was different however. when you walked outside for some fresh air and to drink your freshly brewed tea, the cold air just hit you like a truck. so you decided to set the tea down inside and dig through you and your boyfriend, alhaitham’s shared closet to find some warmer clothes.

you didn’t find anything that belonged to you that would keep you warm, but you did find something in alhaitham’s clothing. a nice big gray hoodie. you decided to just throw on some of your black leggings on too, just to tie it together.

you didn’t realize how comfy alhaitham’s clothing truly was, even though it was sorta big on you.

throughout the day, you lounged around on the couch and in the kitchen, waiting for your boyfriend to come home. he had to be at the akadeymia today for a meeting. these times always bored you because alhaitham said you weren’t aloud to go with him. so dumb. doesn’t he know that you wouldn’t cause trouble? he just tells you he’s very sorry and gives you a big hug and kiss before he walks right out the door. it’s also not like kaveh was there to keep you company either. he was also gone to do whatever architecture thing he was doing now.

but once that final hour came, you started getting more and more impatient. you just wanted your boyfriend to come home and cuddle with you on the couch as you both watch some movies and enjoy some snacks.

as soon as you heard alhaitham’s keys trying to unlock the door, you immediately jumped to your feet, ready to greet him at the door.

once the wooden door opened, alhaitham appeared at the door, looking up and down at you.

“oh hey, y/n.” he gave me a small smile, still looking at every part of you. “are you wearing my clothes?”

“yeah, it was really cold out today and i didn’t have anything to wear, so i just took one of your hoodies.” you reply. “that’s ok, right?”

“uhh,” he gets lost in his thoughts for a second. “yes, of course.”

you grin and grab his hand, pulling him towards the couch where you already have snacks, drinks and the tv set on a movie.

“i’ve missed you all day, so i wanted to surprise you with a movie date!” you exclaim. he blushes a bit but doesn’t say anything for a minute and you quickly sit him down on the couch. “do you want a soda or just some water? or you can have both if you’d like.”

“water, please.” you notice that alhaitham can’t keep his eyes off you, it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, but it starts to make you feel like you got something on your face or you’re doing something wrong.

“is everything ok? you keep staring at me.” you say, as you pour ice cold water into a cup for him.

“um.. yeah, everything’s fine.” alhaitham murmurs, watching you pour the water.

“uh.. okay.” you hand him the cup and he takes a big swig of it, then goes right back to looking at you.

“do you wanna cuddle?” you question. he doesn’t reply, but he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. he slowly gets on top of you and you both just look at each other in the eyes.

“al-haitham!” you squeak. he leans in and presses his lips onto yours. they’re a little chapped, but it’s okay, you still melt into the kiss. he starts to push his tongue between your lips, asking for an entrance. you open your lips and he slides his tongue in, licking all around your mouth, feeling every inch of it. you melt into his arms.

alhaitham releases the kiss, looking back into your eyes again.

“take your clothes off.” alhaitham says, still staring into your eyes, like he’s staring into your soul.

“what?” you reply, extremely confused on what your boyfriend just said. he’s never said anything like that before.

“take your clothes off.” alhaitham repeats. “i want to watch you take your clothes off.”

you gulp a bit, pushing yourself a bit away from him, not losing the eye contact. he lets go of you, still keeping his eyes on every inch of your body.

you start by slowly taking your leggings off, which are harder to get off. you pull them all the way down and off your legs, revealing your black underwear underneath. they weren’t anything fancy.

then you grab the gray hoodie, pulling it over your head slowly. you didn’t have a bra on, since you were just at home. your chest now exposed to alhaitham, who averts his attention to them.

your breathing is hitched, and you slowly start to slide your underwear off. once they’re off and thrown into the floor with the other clothes, you sit in front of alhaitham with your knees up to your chest.

alhaitham smirks and leans pushed your chest away from your legs so he can see every inch of you. he takes you all in, all of your beauty outside of the clothes that was previously restraining it.

“alhaitham..” you mutter softly.

“y/n..” he leans down and connects his lips to yours again. his hands can’t help but latch onto your body, feeling up your soft curves and crevices. he grabs your thighs and pulls them up so you wrap your legs around his waist.

“i’m gonna make you feel good, baby.” he says between the passionate kisses. he lets go off your lips and quickly pulls his shirt off, revealing is very nice toned abs and torso. then he moves your legs and tears off his pants and underwear, leaving no time to slowly get undressed.

you can’t help but stare at his dick, taking it all in. alhaitham licks his lips a little and leans down to start kissing your chest. his lips hover over your right nipple, just enough so you can feel his hot breath. it makes you tingle a bit in your stomach, giving you butterflies.

“alhaitham..” you cry out.

“baby..” he answers, immediately latching onto your nipple and sucking on it, making you arch your back and wrapping your arms around his neck. you also slide your fingers all in his gray locks of hair.

his tongue laps around your nipple, sucking at every bit of it. your moan keeps getting louder and louder.

he lets go and continues down, leaving small kisses along your stomach and down to your womb. once he gets below, he rests his lips on your slit, leaving small kisses, teasing you. he then raises his lips to your clit, sucking your clit and licking all around it, driving you nuts. he places one of his fingers on your clit, rubbing it around and pressing on it like it’s a button.

his mouth does all the work below, sticking his tongue as far as he can into you, licking all around your entrance as he licks in and out of your body.

“you’re driving me crazy, ‘haitham..” you moan out, your hands still gripping onto his hair, pushing his face further into your core. he keeps on rubbing your clit and causing you to squirm underneath him. “‘haitham, please!”

all of a sudden, your legs quiver and you cum onto his face. you let out a long sigh and let go of alhaitham’s hair, resting them beside you.

alhaitham sits up and rubs your juices off his face and onto his arm. he then wraps his arms around your body and sits you up. you rest your head on his chest, opening your eyes slightly to look at his still very excited cock. you smile a bit and lean down, taking his length all into your mouth, sliding it in and out. drool spills out of your mouth as you sloppily go up and down on his cock, soaking it.

“mmm, baby, keep going.” he softly tugs on your hair, guiding you.

you choke on his length trying to stick it all into your mouth, you want to show him that you can take it. you hum against your boyfriend’s dick.

“that feels amazing, baby.” he praises you, which makes you feel like you need to keep going to get more praises. you pick up your speed, and then alhaitham presses your head down all the way on his cock. you choke on it, coughing very loudly as he lets out a loud groan, releasing into your mouth.

he lets go of your head and you quickly pull away, coughing up the cum a little bit also trying to regain your breath.

“i’m sorry.” alhaitham apologizes. “it just felt so good, i couldn’t help myself.”

you smile at him, then leave a small kiss on his cheek. you wrap your arms around him, and sit yourself down onto his dick, which is still semi-hard.

“you still want to keep going, baby?” he asks, grabbing onto your waist and hovering you over his dick.

“yes, i want to make you feel good.” you reply, sweetly. you slowly sit down onto him, sliding his dick inside your sopping insides. you rest your hands on alhaitham’s shoulders, helping yourself balance as you bounce up and down on his cock.

you stare into his eyes as he’s watching every part of your body, especially your chest. your chest jiggles as you bounce up and down on him quickly. the wet slapping noises echoing throughout the house. the couch starts making lots of noise too from the impact.

“god, you do this so well.” alhaitham lets out a short, but semi-loud moan. he throws his head back and closes his eyes as he takes in the feeling of you bouncing up and down so quickly.

“‘haitham.. i’m about to..” you cry out as you lift yourself up and cum onto his twitching dick. you slide back onto his dick, stick moving up and down to pleasure alhaitham.

“baby, i’m about to go crazy.” he grunts, digging his hands into your waist, in which he starts to move you faster. “do you want me to cum in you?”

“umm.. probably not for awhile..” you manage to get out as he quickly pulls himself out, ejaculating onto your stomach and chest. “fuck…”

he throw you onto the couch and grabs a cracker off the charcuterie board you had made earlier. he looks at you and smiles softly.

“let me go get a towel for you, then we can continue your plan.”

#alhaitham #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin lemon #genshin oneshots #genshin smut #x reader

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kalcium-yippee · 18 days

Text

SBG VOICE HEADCANONS !! YUH

Ashlyn:

I feel like she would have a flat voice, but decently smooth. Very medium pitched and almost androgynous sometimes. The best comparison I have is Sara James (sarajamss) on tiktok but just flatter and less expressive lmao.

Aiden:

I think Aiden would have a cold voice if that makes sense. Compare to Ashlyn's i would describe as lukewarm in temperature. High-ish pitched that crackles maybe a bit. Very much a voice you'd hear regularly with kids his age but some sort of twist on it. Sounds more fem ig idk how to describe it. I have no real comparison.

Taylor:

She would have a higher pitched voice but talks and enunciates words as if she has a somewhat deeper voice if that makes sense. Temperature wise her voice would be chilly. Like cloudy 50 degree weather with a breeze (idk why I'm describing voices as weather but oh well). Best comparison is if Himeno and Kobeni from Chainsawman s voices combined.

Tyler:

Atp I'll just start w the temperature. He gives 60 degree weather lightly cloudy with a light breeze. Very average voice but there is something crinkly and welcoming about it. I feel like he would cut of the ends of some words and not realise it. Maybe like a young less theatre-y more spikey Jeremy Jordan?? but not really idk.

Logan:

Angel Devil from Chainsawman English dub but..warmer. He has a warm voice so yuh. High pitched laugh. I really got nothing else.

Ben:

When he could still talk his voice def would be something raw. Very warm temperature wise. Not warm like California warm like a NY forest in July. May be weird to say but like if a tiktok F-boy decided to crush his phone and live in the woods.

This barely made sense but the girlie who get it get and the girlie who don't aren't Chronically online.

#temperature is the only descriptor i have atp #school bus graveyard #sbg #school bus graveyard webtoon #school bus graveyard headcanon #sbg ashlyn #sbg aiden #sbg logan #sbg tyler #sbg taylor #sbg ben #sbg webtoon #webtoon #headcanon #fanon #voice hc #voice headcanons

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oracle-of-dream · 2 months

Text

Nothing But Bad News

Summary: In the bar you work at you live by three rules. 1 - Don't walk anywhere at night alone. 2 - Never tell a client too much. 3 - Never look for trouble.

Warnings: Drinking, Smoking, Gangster Leehan, Flirting from older men

Wordcount: 2.5k

Making ends meet has been hard. Balancing a medical social life, school, and a night job to pay bills. You barely have any time to yourself to rest and relax at all.

The alarm jolted you out of your nap. Your naps were scheduled between classes and shifts at work since you never had enough time for a full night of sleep. You rolled out of bed, knocking your textbooks onto the floor. Most of the pages were folded with sticky notes, notes you'd taken during classes or that your friends had helped give you when you slept in class. Scooping them up, you tucked the books into your backpack and set the bag by the door to take with you.

It was time for another shift at the bar, hopefully, there would be some of the heavy tippers coming by since it was a Friday night. Most of the heavier tippers were the ones who liked talking and asking questions. You hated telling those drunkards anything, but anything for a good tip at the end of the night. Sometimes you'd walk out with $300 if you were a "good boy". Luckily no one's taken the opportunity to try and press you for more service other than that few overly drunk new patrons, but management was pretty on top of security. They even let you study behind the bar when it wasn't too busy.

You slipped on a jacket and a dark-collared shirt. You learned your lesson about wearing light-colored shirts after someone threw up on you. Much easier to work in dark clothes.

The bus stop was a few minutes walk from your apartment. The weather was decently so you didn't rush to the stop as you soaked in the last drops of the sunset. You waited at the stop for about ten minutes before the bus arrived. Your usual spot at the back, by a window, was open and you took a seat. Headphones in, music on shuffle, and a short snooze on the bus.

Like clockwork, you woke up three stops before yours. There were mostly familiar faces on the bus, the same faces who ride often to go their several ways. As your stop rolled on, you stood from your seat and your feet hit the pavement in a fast walk. It was dark with the street lights few and far between. You learned fast that it was always better to mind your business and not look at anyone, especially if they were looking at you. Keep your head down.

You stopped at a street light, waiting for the signal, as another man stood oddly close to you. Maybe a pickpocket, but you knew that if you reached for your wallet, you'd just give your money away – as if you had any to really lose right now.

The man had long brown hair, a black leather jacket, and baggy jeans. Probably, 20 years old – maybe a little younger, but the shadows on his face made his facial structure stand out.

He glanced over at you, and you looked down at your phone.

It was a good idea to get this look in case you needed to identify him for robbing you, but getting caught doing that wouldn't be a good idea... The signal lit up and you crossed the street with other people waiting. The man's hand grazed yours, and you grabbed him and pushed his hand away from you.

"Sorry," You muttered, pretending you'd just bumped into him.

You looked slightly over your shoulder to see the man looking downcast at you among the crowd, not moving at all. He locked eyes with you, just for a moment, before you turned back around. It was time to leave.

Walking into the bar, soft jazz playing from the live band and men were already sitting and drinking at their tables. Most of them were older – 50's to 60's, and smoked fat cigars. Some played cards most talked and laughed with each other.

"Whoa! Here comes the hot stuff!" One man whistled as you walked in. A regular, Mr. Tony. He always told you to call him Tony, but policy says you have to call everyone Mr. or Ms. Your boss was an old-fashioned man, gender-neutral terms were a little over his head.

"It's good to see you, Mr. Tony. I hope you plan on paying for your own drinks tonight, I have too many angry gamblers in here when you start playing." You threw a smile in his direction which got a wink in return from Mr. Tony.

"Well, you can always sit with me and play a few hands! We all know you're better at this than us," He chuckled.

You stepped behind the bar and into the storage room. The lockers were old but useable – but wouldn't lock though. You put your backpack inside the locker, checking all your belongings before your shift. Inside the locker was a note.

Hey Champ,

The other tender called in sick today, I'll be on call but I'm a lil busy. If you need me, call me – But I know you can handle these lousy bastards. Keep them from makin' a mess.

- Boss

You rolled your eyes at the note. Of course, you'd have no extra help tonight. It was like that every Friday night... So there wouldn't be any extra study time for you...

Stretching yourself in preparation for a long shift, you cracked your neck and knuckles, let out a long sigh, and then walked back to the front of the house.

"Okay, fellas, the bar's open. Who's first?" You asked.

One after another, all the men would take their time coming up to the bar to make requests. Some wanted singles, others wanted shots for the tables. You'd been working there long enough to earn some respect amongst the clients, so they were more than willing to be polite, especially with the muscular bouncers watching from the side exit door. She never spoke, Boss called her, Silent but Deadly, and the name stuck. SBD for short.

Everything was going about as well as you expected. It was a semi-busy night; a few spilled drinks, some first-timers complained, and some occasionally flirted shooting their shot with you.

At about 12 AM, two hours before closing, there was a sudden change in the atmosphere. The main door opened and everyone got quieter, the room got colder, and expressions hardened. You knew what that meant – someone from the mob had walked in. Great.

You didn't look over, just shouted from the bar, "Welcome in, take a seat. If you wanna order, you have to come up here." Pretending to clean a cup, you did everything in your power not to look in their direction. But, as luck would have it, the figure sat right at the bar. The other patrons at the bar moved and found a table somewhere else, leaving you alone with this person.

You bit your lip and swallowed your anxiety. It's just another customer. "How can I help you?" You looked up to see the face of the man from the street.

He smirked at seeing you, letting his head lean back slightly so he could look down at you, his nose, a straight slope, pointed up slightly.

"We meet again," He chuckled. His voice was deep and he spoke softly.

You cocked your head to the side, "Sorry, I don't know you. And no we haven't met in a past life."

"You've heard that one before?"

You shrugged, "a few dozen times tonight."

He put his elbows on the bar, "What's a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this? Community service in an old folks home?"

The draggers in the back he was getting from the onlookers were almost visible. Everyone clearly didn't like him, but that wasn't enough to call for security to kick him out. Boss had always been clear that there needed to be a good reason for kicking someone out. Otherwise, it could bite us in the ass.

"Can I get you something?" You slip a glass into your hand.

He took a second to think, "Sure. Got any lemonade?"

You filled the glass with lemonade, tossed some ice, and slid it to him. "Call if you need anything else, I got more guests," You started to walk away but he whistled at you. Normally, you wouldn't respond to a whistle but on instinct, you turned on your heels. "Yes, sir?"

"Don't I get one of those little umbrellas? With the flowers?"

You clapped your hands in front of you, "No, sir. I'm sorry, we don't do that here."

"Eh, that's a shame," He slumped.

You tried to turn around again.

"What's your name?" He asked.

Oh, this was going to be a long night. "My name is Y/n," You replied.

"I'm Leehan."

"Interesting name."

"Not my real one. Not that it matters to you."

"Can I go, or do you need something?"

"What's the rush? Can't you talk to me for a little, just us?" Leehan snuck an eyebrow raise at the end of his sentence.

"I'm sorry. I'm not an escort, and I'm working. If there's anything you wanna say – you'll have to say it in front of everyone."

"What about when you're not working–"

You leaned closer to him on the bar, "Look, Mr. Leehan. I'm trying to be nice and chat, but I gotta work. Otherwise, I'll lose this job. So if you don't mind, I'll be stepping over there. And you shouldn't ask a bartender a question like that."

You knew you'd get chewed out for that later, but he was really starting to push your buttons.

Leehan smiled at you, "You're kinda cute when upset. Sorry for holding you up, go ahead and work."

The other patrons were watching the bar like hawks. While they were all old-timers, they seemed to like you and were more than a little protective of you. When you got to Mr. Tony's table, he waved you closer to him.

"Do you need this guy outta here?" He asked.

You shook your head, "That's alright, Mr. Tony."

He sucked his teeth at you, "You know how I feel about you calling me, Mr."

"And you know how Boss feels about me dropping the formalities," You scooped up the empty glasses and placed them on a tray.

Tony scratched his beard, "Keep an eye on this guy. He's off."

"I keep my eye on all of you."

"I'm serious – that boy seems like bad news."

You nodded, "I understand. Thank you, Mr. Tony."

You finished your rounds and walked back to the bar. Leehan's lemonade was still the same as you'd left it. He'd not even taken a sip of it. You pointed at the drink, "Not want you wanted?"

Leehan shook his finger, "I wanted to drink it while talking to you. So I don't mind waiting."

You put the tray down and started to rinse the cups, placing each in their slot under the bar. "So, what do you want to talk about, Mr. Leehan."

"I like, Mr. Leehan. It's so cute," He leaned back in his seat.

"It's what I'm supposed to call you."

"Say it, again?"

You sighed, "Mr. Leehan."

"But with feeling, like you don't hate saying it."

You bit your tongue so you didn't curse at him. You took a deep breath and smiled brightly, "Mr. Leehan, are you enjoying talking to me?"

He nodded, "Yes. You're divine."

Maybe he's a good tipper. "Well, I'm glad you think so. You're not so bad."

That really made Leehan giggle.

The two of you talked for the rest of your shift. He inquired about school and work. You gave the least amount of information possible. Each time you tried to ask about him, he'd turn it around and ask you more questions. These types of people were always tricky...

By the end of the shift, you'd closed out everyone's tabs. Clients went on their way, saying goodbye to you. Mr. Tony stayed the longest before it was time for even him to go.

"Be careful out there, hot stuff," He warned.

"I always am, Mr. Tony," You replied.

He glared at Leehan as he left out the door. Meanwhile, Leehan hadn't taken his eyes off you, sipping at his drink occasionally until he finished it.

"Well, Mr. Leehan, thank you so much for such a lovely night. I hope we can see each other again," You take his cup from him, trying to hurry him out.

"Do you need a ride home? It's dark out," He asked.

"No, that's alright. I've got a ride."

You always took the bus to and from work, but none of your clients knew that. You'd always mention someone coming to get you at the end of the night so they'd leave you alone, but no one had ever offered you a ride before... Leehan left with a smile and a wave as SBD locked the door behind him. You look at Leehan's seat, to find a wallet in his chair. He'd left it behind!

"Hey, a customer left his wallet, I'll be right back," You told SBD as you unlocked the door.

Outside, it was darker than usual. The lights from the bar were always unreliable, so you had to use your phone's flashlight. You spotted Leehan leaning against a motorcycle, putting on gloves.

"Mr. Leehan! You left your wallet inside," You walked over and handed it to him.

He took it with a smile, "Sweet and nice. Should I be counting the dollars in here?"

"I didn't take anything–"

"I was kidding," Leehan opened his wallet to show a wad of cash. He took out a handful of bills and handed it to you, "I forgot to tip you."

It was at least $400! You wanted the money badly, but your heart... couldn't accept it. "I'm sorry, this is way too much for just one lemonade."

"Consider it a thank you then. For keeping me company, talking to me, and returning my wallet."

"I–"

Leehan shoved the cash into your hand, "I mean it. Plus, there's way more coming your way. If you're interested."

The thought of more money piqued your interest. This tip alone was enough to cover half your rent. "What exactly do you need?"

"I need someone I can talk to every once in a while. I want to hire you to be that person."

"Just talk?"

Leehan shrugged, "We can add on to that if needed. Of course, more payment would be required from me for anything extra."

You considered it while holding the cash in your hand, "Sure... If it's just talking."

"Excellent," He extended his hand to you.

You took it and shook it.

"You'll start immediately."

"Huh–" There was a sudden pain in the back of your head and then darkness... The last thing you could see was Leehan looking over you with a sweet smile.

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #boynextdoor leehan #leehan #kpop boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor #leehan boynextdoor

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