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yelenasdiary · 3 months

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I saw your request were open and I’ve been dying to send you this request. I was wondering if you could do a top F reader x bottom Wanda. Reader is an eternal and their also deaf. They first met Wanda after the wandavision events. They have a one night stand and Wanda finds one she’s pregnant (reader has a penis} so now they’re trying to navigate the pregnancy and their relationship. They agree to do parent but as time goes on they start to fall in love! Please add a bunch of smut and fluff! Maybe some angst please

Take Me Home

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Eternal, Fem! & Deaf! Reader

Summary: A one night stand changes everything for the better.

Angst, Fluff & Brief Mention of Smut. 18+ ONLY, Minors & Men DNI!

Warnings: Mentions of Drinking, Reader has a penis, Unprotected Sex, Oral (Wanda Receiving), Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, Mentions of Abortion | 2.5K

AC: Please know that I am not Deaf. So I write this purely on research, if I have said anything wrong or offensive, please kindly message me so I can fix it. I mean absolutely no harm. Reader communicates via sign language, so all conversations are in italics, this means they are signing and not verbally speaking. Thank you for sending this, although I didn’t include a full smut scene I still hope you enjoy this! x

Cupid's Dream Masterlist

Two pink lines stared back at her while her heart skipped a beat. She knew it was true before she even took the test, tears filled her eyes as she remembered the events that took place in Westview. Now in hiding, the ex-Avenger only had herself to fall back on. It was the one time she decided to grab a hot meal at the local bar near her remote mountainside cabin in the woods of Sokovia when she met you.

You were having a few drinks by yourself when the woman sat only inches beside you at the bar. She was troubled, her sad presence screamed to you as you turned to her slightly and gave her a soft welcoming smile. She smiled back, even though she could barely bring herself to form the returning smile.

“Rough Day?” you asked in sign language. She nodded, “rough couple of months” she signed back.

“Here, let me.” You smiled once more before placing a $10 bill on the bar to pay for her drink, “it seems you need something good right now” you signed.

“Thank you” the woman smiled softly before taking a sip of her wine.

She intrigued you to say the least, you’d never seen her around here before and assumed she was new to the small town, if you’d even call it that. The small street of buildings was only built for loggers that worked high in the mountains; it had the essentials. A small general store for basic needs, a mechanic and hardware store, a bakery, a doctor’s office and of course the bar which also acted as a restaurant. A small population of 100 people lived around here, well, 101 now that you’d made a cabin home for the past three months.

You tried to go back to doing your own thing, having a drink, and completing the crossword puzzle in the newspaper but the woman’s running mind distracted your focus. You turned to face her only to notice she was already looking at you. Her eyes spoke a million words and suddenly you knew she wasn’t like anybody else in the bar.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you asked. She was hesitant at first, taking another sip of her drink so she didn’t waste your money, but she nodded.

“Are you here for me?” Wanda asked while the two of you walked slowly down the single road street covered in snow. “No. I am just a stranger you met in a bar” you replied with a soft smile in hopes it would ease her worries. It didn’t take Wanda very long to work out that you weren’t like everybody else in this town, there was a different kind of communication between the two of you. She could hear your thoughts just as much as you could hear hers. Although you knew very little of the woman, you knew enough to know she was in pain.

----

Wanda’s mind replayed that night after you’d walked her home. How her nails dug deeply into your back as your lips were interlocked with hers and the way you reach for the bedsheets as your tongue overstimulated her clit but more importantly, she remembered the way you made her feel and how she’d never felt the things you made her feel, how you were able to make her forget even just for that night how much she was truly hurting.

Those thoughts brought her back to the two pink lines staring back at her. “Fuck” she mumbled quietly to herself as she placed the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t having a moment while washing her hands that her twin boys that she missed deeply and how badly she wished to hold them just once more.

Wanda rang your doorbell, a blue light flickered throughout your small cabin to alert you somebody was at the door. Wanda was the last person you expected to be standing on the other side, even if you sensed it was her before you even turned the knob.

“Wanda how are you?” you asked, greeting her with a soft smile. She didn’t return the smile; her eyes were slightly puffy and red. “Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Can I come in? we need to talk” she replied. You nodded, moving to the side to allow her to walk into your home. “I’m really sorry to come here out of the blue” she turned to you as you closed the door behind her.

“Don’t stress, it’s okay. Not sure how you found my address but it’s okay” you chuckled in hopes it would lighten the mood, but it didn’t.

“I’m pregnant” she said, getting to the point. The news shocked you a little but explained why you felt she didn’t arrive alone. “I don’t expect you to do anything or even want to be a part of this. I just thought you had a right to know” Wanda added.

“It takes two to tangle, are you okay?” you replied trying to process the news. Wanda’s eyes filled with tears as she shrugged, “I d-don’t know, I made some mistakes that lead me to the reason why I even moved here” she explained, wiping the falling tears from her cheeks. You knew what she was talking about, you were an Eternal, of course you knew but you weren’t allowed to do anything about the events of Westview, and you didn’t ask too many questions about the situation.

“I don’t want you to worry about anything, I am here for you and the baby. Whatever you decide to do, I am here. If you want to keep it, we will work it out. If you want to have an abortion, I will be there to hold your hand” you smiled ever so softly before you reached to get her a tissue. Wanda looked you in the eyes, allowing you to hear all her worries and concerns.

You reached for her hand, “you’re not alone. We are in this together” you assured her. “We barely know each other. I do not expect you to step up like this” Wanda replied.

“Let’s start with meeting up for coffee, well, decaf coffee. How does that sound? We can get to know each other more and talk about what is on your mind and if you want to go through with this or not” you offered.

Wanda nodded as a light smile tugged at her lips, “I would like that, thank you”.

----

As the weeks went on, you and Wanda met for coffee three times a week. Most of the conversations were about getting to know one another and sometimes Wanda would bring up a worry or concern she had. You never asked her if she had made a decision on whether she would be keeping the baby or not, you felt that was something she would tell you when she was ready.

Of course, one of Wanda’s most worrying concern was the baby’s health and what it meant for the baby to be born with the shared genes of a Witch and an Eternal. Both with so much power and abilities, it was something that Wanda couldn’t shake. This led to you telling her everything you knew about your abilities and powers.

“This baby is going to be more than a handful of surprises” Wanda smiled softly making your eyes widen with excitement.

“Does this mean you’ve made a decision?” you asked. Wanda nodded, “I want to have this baby. I want to do this with you and its okay if you don’t want to do this” she replied. You stood up from your seat and embraced Wanda in a hug, “I want to do this with you as well” you smiled as you both pulled away.

“I guess this means we have a lot more to talk about” Wanda smiled.

----

You didn’t want to miss a single moment during Wanda’s pregnancy, it was a conversation that you brought to the table before Wanda asked if you’d like to come spend a couple nights a week at her place. You loved cooking for her every night and making her breakfast in bed when her morning sickness went away. After so many years of seeming almost everything, you never thought you’d find something so special again.

Life was growing in front of your eyes, you finally had something to be excited about once again. A new chapter was opening up for you, a new life, a life you never thought you’d be able to have so the thought never crossed your mind and Wanda could see just how happy you were. She saw the smile on your face whenever she caught you admiring the ultra-sound photo, she saw the sparkle in your eyes whenever the two of you had a conversation about the baby.

But for Wanda, it wasn’t the same. Although she was happy about having a baby, she couldn’t keep herself from thinking of her boys and how she wondered what they would think of a baby sibling. She wondered how they would react, she wondered if they would wish for a baby brother or sister, she wondered if they had their own name ideas to add to the list you and Wanda had slowly began to dot down.

“What were they like? Your boys” you asked Wanda one night while she was lost in thought. She looked at you and smiled softly at the thought of talking about her twins. “They were perfect. Tommy is my little prankster” she starts with a chuckle, “he was always getting himself in all sorts of mischief. Billy, he was the opposite. He loved video games and training our dog Sparky. Both boys loved their ice cream and movie night” the smile on her lips only grew wider as she talked more about the beloved twins.

“They sound like a lot of fun; you must miss them” you placed a hand on top of Wanda’s for comfort.

“I do, a lot” A tear rolled down her cheek. You could tell she needed a shift of conversation and offered to make her a banana split milkshake to fill her cravings.

----

At six months, you and Wanda had grown closer. You were both wanting this co-parenting plan to work and began to look around for a home to move into together. The two of you would decorate the nursey together, Wanda using her powers to move the furniture around to save the hassle of you both burning yourselves out doing it. You went to every doctor’s appointment with Wanda and kept every ultra-sound photo they offered. Wanda loved seeing how excited and happy you were and as time went on, she found herself becoming more comfortable with the fact the twins weren’t here to share this new chapter with her.

“How did you book this place?” Wanda asked after the waiter seated you both. It was Wanda’s birthday and you wanted to do something special for her, so you booked reservations at a restaurant she’d been talking about a lot recently.

“I know the owner, they kind of owe me a favour” you replied before picking up the menu. Things had slightly been a little different between you both, usually you could hear each other’s thoughts and feelings but recently you had trouble connecting with Wanda that way. You thought maybe it was something to do with the pregnancy and maybe she just wanted that extra bit of privacy, so you tried not to think about it as much, but it was hard when you found yourself falling for her.

“This is certainly a surprise, thank you” Wanda smiled. You returned the smile but quickly used the menu to hide the blushing of your cheeks. This was a new feeling that you had no control over.

“Has something happened? Between us?” Wanda asked shortly after finishing her main meal, you shook your head before taking a mouthful of your drink. “Not at all, have I done something to make you think that?” you asked.

“You just seem a little distant lately, that’s all” Wanda replied.

“I’m sorry. I just thought that with only a few months left until the baby arrives that you might want some more alone time” you explained, not entirely a lie but a good enough excuse to stop her from thinking it was something more.

“You know, we have spoken a lot about myself over the last few months but you don’t like to share much. I am here for you like you are for me and if you want to talk about anything, you can talk to me. We’re in this together, remember?” Wanda said looking deeply into your eyes. You took another mouthful of your drink and deep breath before replying.

“I used to have a family and friends, but some went back to planet Olympia, some stayed on Earth and are trying to live a normal life, but I never felt like I fitted in anywhere. Not here and not in Olympia. I have been on my own for many years and I was getting tired of living this repetitive life. But when you said you wanted to keep the baby, everything changed for me. You have given me something new and exciting, a new life and I don’t want to ruin it because of something I can’t control” you explained.

“Why would you think you would ruin this? I would never stop you from being in our baby’s life if things didn’t work out with our plan” Wanda assured you.

“Feelings weren’t apart of the plan” you replied.

Wanda froze for a moment before she stood from her seat, you did the same thinking she was leaving but instead she walked up to you and gently cupped your face and kissing you deeply. You kissed her back, your hands resting gently on her lips, ever so slightly pulling her closer to you as you deepened the kiss.

“Take me home” Wanda smiled softly as you both pulled away for air.

----

You woke up to find Wanda’s side of the bed empty, there was only one place she would be. You walked down the hall and there she was, cradling your baby girl back to sleep. The sight in front of you made you smile softly before you walked up behind Wanda, wrapping your arms around her and placing a kiss on her cheek. Wanda smiled softly, never taking her eyes off the little girl in her arms.

Your body moved with Wanda’s until the little girl’s eyes came to a close and Wanda carefully placed her back in her crib. She turned in your arms to face you, kissing you softly.

“I know it was your turn to tend to her, but I couldn’t help myself. She’s perfect” Wanda smiled. “Next time, wake me. I don’t want to miss a single thing” you replied before kissing her once more.

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#yelenasdiary asks #anon #fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #happy valentines #marvel

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ruified · 4 months

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ೃ₊• BSD Boyfriend HCs ❞

•➯; WARNINGS: alcohol (chuuya)

•➯; CHARACTERS: Chuuya Nakahara, Osamu Dazai, Fyodor Dostoevsky + Nikolai Gogol

•➯; SYNOPSIS: headcanons about being their partner

•➯; A/N: i will make another part if i come up with ideas for other characters

• • • 📂 ◠◠◠◠◠◠◠◠◠❀ ┈┈┈

CHUUYA —

— he opens a bottle from his collection for your anniversary because that’s how important you are to him

— he’ll let you ride his motorcycle with him (a sign of trust) but he always helps you put on your gear first

— he does a little helmet bump (where your forehead would be) with you after it’s secured

— loves going to nice and fancy restaurants with you, typically likes to get a table that’s by a window or in a corner, somewhere a bit more private

— sometimes he complains to you about his subordinates doing dumb stuff, but you know that he cares about them regardless

— after long days, he’ll come home and just bury his face in you for a while

— when he’s had a rough day, he likes to eat in with you, something easy, and watch an old movie

— he calls the characters in the movie out on their stupidity, it’s cute how frustrated he gets with them sometimes

— he’s not the biggest fan of his birthday, but he likes to see how happy you get about it

— a lot of compliments + words of affirmation

— he likes to go shopping with you, especially clothes shopping, he loves seeing you all dressed up

— his favorite thing about you would have to be your smile

— he loves when you play with his hair, he loves the pressure of your fingers on his scalp and the little scratches

DAZAI —

— café dates, y’know, if he actually has the means to pay for it

— you’ll be cooking a lot for him, but the warmth in his expression makes it worth it, plus all the little kisses he gives you to distract you from cooking and washing the dishes

— his love language is physical touch so long as he initiates it, he’s not used to others initiating it, but he’s trying to get used to it

— after you two have grown close enough, he’ll take you to bar lupin

— refuses to get out of bed in the morning, he will hold you down and beg for just five more minutes

— he loves showing you little trinkets and things he just finds and picks up

— the type of guy to share “fun facts”, sometimes they’re incredibly morbid but he’s so enthusiastic about it

— his favorite thing about you is your laugh, especially when it’s because of him

— little, subtle touches when you’re in public: tucking your hair behind your ear, holding pinkies, holding hands under the table, pressing his thigh against yours, etc.

— he absolutely adores head pats, sometimes he’ll stop you from pulling away your hand to just have it rest atop his head

— sometimes he changes the words to songs to make them about you and sings them while walking around the apartment with you

— he loves laying on the couch and having you lay on top of him like a weighted blanket, pressure = comfort

FYODOR —

— this man essentially courted you, he doesn’t care if you already liked him, he’ll just make you fall more because he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do this properly

— he doesn’t want to rush anything so he takes his time with you, but he certainly makes it worth it

— he loves getting you gifts, but he’s not the type to give them in person, he leaves them in obvious places for you to find

— he’s great at being romantic, he gives the loveliest compliments and calls you sweet things like “love”, “darling”, “dear(est)”, “precious”, etc.

— he loves to have tea parties with you when he’s free

— he often goes to bed later than you, so he climbs in silently and immediately knows to hold you

— he genuinely appreciates it when you stop him from biting his fingers, especially when you hold his hand and/or give them kisses

— he loves having you sit with him while he practices the cello

— his hands are always so cold, so he loves it when you hold them, he loves feeling your warmth

— he isn’t the one who normally initiates physical affection, but he’s very accepting of it

— his favorite thing about you is your hair

— he will help you wash your hair and play with it, he’ll even take a few strands and kiss it

— he loves it when you make slavic food for him, it provides a homey feeling

— he’ll teach you some russian (if you don’t know already), especially things to call him/say to him

NIKOLAI —

— when he gives gifts, he makes them super elaborate and puts them in strange/unexpected places

— he finds it funny to tell you that there’s some sort of gift for you somewhere and then watch you try to figure it out, he always ends up giving you super obvious hints though

— he gets love aggression sometimes, he’ll come up to you and squeeze your face and say something about eating you alive (or possibly even more morbid)

— calls you “dove”

— he lets you braid his hair and do other stuff with it

— takes you on dates to the theater to go see random plays and musicals

— he loves to pick you up and spin you around, even if that means you both fall over in each others arms

— “who’s the most beautiful person in the world? correct, it’s you!”

— after the two of you get closer, he’ll start unmasking around you occasionally

— when he does unmask, he loves just laying with you and relaxing, it gives him time to recharge, he likes being taken care of too

— he loves holding your face in his hands

— he’s big on physical affection, he loves to cuddle you and squeeze you tight

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word-wytch · 5 months

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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 16

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 16/? 9k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Frustrated by inconclusive endings, Eddie takes a seat behind the wheel.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

✏︎ Chapter CW: general angst, paternal angst, drug mention

Thursday, December 12th 1985

Before the first morning bell, Eddie gave Judy at reception his best impression of Wayne over the phone. He wasn’t totally lying, he was in fact, quite sick. Sick of all the taunting looks from meathead jocks. Sick of the way Ms. O’Donnell cleared her throat every five minutes. Sick of waking up so goddamn early. Sick of wasting his time. So after hanging up the phone, he stuffed a few essentials in his backpack and made for the door.

Like clockwork, Wayne always came home at around 8:10 AM, and though it would be far from the first time he’d skipped school, Eddie would rather not have to explain himself. Besides, he could use a change of scenery. There was no denying winter anymore, the ice he scraped off his windshield made sure to remind him. On a typical hooky day he would drive down to Lover’s Lake and toss open the rear doors, catch a breeze, light a joint, sit back and take in the ripples on the water and the rustling leaves. But that had all frozen over, so unless he intended to burn through his whole tank of gas, he would need to get creative.

That was how he found himself at Benny’s at 7:58 on a Thursday morning, setting up camp in a booth at the back of the restaurant. He ordered his usual — bacon, scrambled eggs, and a stack of pancakes in addition to white toast. Tossing his fourth emptied sugar packet beside the leaning tower of creamers, he sat back in the sticky, padded seat and took his first deep breath all morning.

The diner was bustling lowly, a handful of regulars perched on silver, spinning stools at the bar. From the frosted window leeching cool air beside him, he watched the funeral procession of headlights down Washington under a mournful sky. Just another day for the upright citizens of Hawkins, Indiana. From his cozy booth, Eddie sipped the top off his very full mug and smiled to himself.

Sprawling his belongings around the piping hot plates, he popped on his headphones, cracked open his monster manual, and got to work. The first hour flew by like his pencil across the graph paper. Between the bacon bits that had leapt from hand to page, a formidable lineup of foes was taking shape. Bottom line; the boys were in for a world of hurt tomorrow. He did his best to resign the grease to the flimsy napkins, but by the time he was finished, syrup tacked the gargoyle and gorgon pages together.

“Anything else I can grab for ya besides the check?” Sheri—according to her name tag—asked with a tired lean as she reached to clear his plates.

Eddie glanced down sheepishly at his freshly topped off mug. “I uh, think I might be staying for lunch.”

Sheri forced a hot pink smile, catching the fork with her decorated finger when it threatened to slide off the plate. “Y’ want me to get a room set up for you too?” she joked with a wink of her spidery lashes. “Just teasin’ sweetie. You just flag me down when you’re ready.”

Switching out his tapes, Eddie shut the cassette player and stared out the window as the men at the bar tossed their napkins and fished out their wallets. Snow was falling in lazy clumps, clinging to his windshield. Somewhere behind the overcast clouds, the sun was rising steadily. It was dismal, a fitting backdrop for the opening track of Black Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell. Of all the seasons, winter belonged to metal. Like it was made for cruising down a quiet, snow-covered street in the middle of nowhere. Made for drowning out Bing Crosby crooning from the speaker in the corner above him. Tinsel glittered on the small tree perched on a cloud of fake snow beside the cash register. Ornaments on swags swayed to the thump of footsteps passing. Eddie sighed and stared into the changing street lights.

Glancing at his watch he figured you were probably wrapping up the film with second period, knitting your brow and drawing your pen across the papers you were grading. He wondered what you’d think when the bell rang for fourth and you found his seat empty. Would you think he was upset with you? There was a small part of him that hoped so, and another part that hoped you would understand. After all, he was giving you the space you asked for, was he not?

Like a siren, your story—tucked between his notebook and the magazines he’d exhausted twice cover to cover—called to him. Cracking open the plastic spine, he dove headfirst into the typewritten pages.

For the whole narrow path into Rower’s End, Cybelle had sat in the front of the caravan, breathing the briny air unhindered by a barrier. Lazarus admired the brilliant fullness of her smile as she watched the seagulls soar overhead, under the clouds she had only ever seen from above. The sunlight had graced them then, beaming down in golden rays, glinting on the distant waves as they approached the sleepy seaside town.

Eddie could feel the corners of his mouth tug as Lazarus regaled Cybelle with a story of a time when he’d accidentally taken a crab home with him after spending a day at the beach, followed by an explanation of what a crab was. Cybelle seemed delighted with the prospect of seeing one, even more-so when he told her how he’d discovered the little hitchhiker when it pinched his rear in bed that night. Eddie noticed the way Cybelle leaned closer whenever Lazarus told stories, the way her hand came to shield her bare face with a giggle when he mentioned his rear. The way her delicate, copper fingers lingered over the soft skin of his forearm when she checked beneath his bandage. The wound was healing nicely — no sign of infection and not a thorn in sight. She warned that it might scar, but Lazarus did not appear concerned—rather the opposite actually—as if a strange part of him was pleased with the idea of having something to remember her by.

As they dipped over the final hill toward Rower’s End, Lazarus told her another story. A dream, rather, of a little cottage in Shantiglade with a full sized bed, and a garden, and a goose egg omelette big enough for two. A dream that would likely never come to pass. Cybelle seemed equally enchanted by it. Sitting back against the boxy, wooden seat of the caravan, she breathed in the salty air and imagined how good it would feel to do so every day. To experience the feeling of sand between her toes, of the ocean at her ankles, of propping her elbow against their shared kitchen table and gracing Lazarus with a naked smile before trying whatever an omelette was. It was good like this too — bumping along under a clear blue sky as Turnip plodded down the scarcely trodded path, watching the wind caress the wild grass and Lazarus’ even wilder curls, hearing his tales and his laughter.

Around the time he would be slumping into his desk in the back of your classroom, the bell dinged over the door of the restaurant. Eddie cranked the volume on his headset to drown out the chatter of a family of four clambering into the booth in front of him. The little boy had brought a pair of plastic drumsticks with him, beating a rhythm on the steel-rimmed table much to the annoyance of his little sister, who was clutching her book the way Eddie was yours. Dipping his few remaining fries into the smear of ketchup, he wondered why they weren’t in school on a Thursday afternoon. As he focused back on the type-written letters, he figured he should be the last to judge.

Eddie felt for Lazarus, he really did. The way he looked at Cybelle as she emerged from the cave, cradling the ghostfern like a pale, translucent child. The scene was as beautiful as it was somber — waves lapping at the rocky shoreline as the setting sun cast its deep orange hues on both of them. The rocks—slick with algae—had Cybelle stumbling, but Lazarus was quick to offer his arm. She accepted without hesitance, clutching the plant like a bouquet as her deep earthen fingers braced the pale angles of his. He lead her down the cascading stone as if it were a chapel aisle, slow and steady until they reached the flat edge of the water. There—in the golden remains of the day—seagulls dipped and soared over the glittering ocean, clasped hands swayed in the lapping wind, and for a moment, they had everything they came for.

After what seemed like both a small eternity and an aching second, it was Cybelle who broke away, tracing the ridges of his fingers as hers fell, stating out loud what both of them knew — that night was coming soon.

The journey back to Torgaard proved easier than the journey out, at least in terms of natural foes. No fenfinks or villainous vines, but the sky seemed to hang much lower. Dark, stormy clouds loomed overhead, casting its pale grey light over the moss curtains outside of Fenwood, over the verdant forests that shuddered in the gusting wind. There was a tension, a dread looming on the horizon that grew with each passing day. Even Eddie could sense it — the way Cybelle stared out into the swath of shifting green like she was attempting to soak up enough for the rest of her life. The way that Lazarus’ jokes were swallowed the creaking of the caravan. How nights that were once spent laughing over a roaring fire were now spent silently watching its crackling embers.

One day—just a few outside of Torgaard—the sky came crashing down. It sobbed in sheets, heavy enough to soak through Cybelle’s coat, to find the tear in her tent and make a lake of it. Lazarus ushered her inside the wagon, offered her a shirt that fit like a dress, offered to sleep on the floor. Assessing the size of the bed, and then the hard, narrow walking path, it was Cybelle who insisted they share it. She was small enough, or at least that was what she rationalized out loud. Lazarus did not argue. Her logic—unlike her tent—was water-tight. And so she climbed in between the soft linen sheets, tucked herself under the weight of the down blanket, and rested her damp, weary head on a pillow that smelled just like him.

Eddie glanced sheepishly around the restaurant, shielding the binder with his arm as Lazarus climbed in beside her. He hinged on each type-written word, lingering over the ones that stirred a fuzzy feeling. Written with careful attention to the way Lazarus’ chest rose and fell, how stiff their bodies were in hyper-awareness of the nearness to each other. How solid his shoulder felt under Cybelle’s cheek when the corner of pillow no longer sufficed. Slowly, they relaxed into the feeling. Not enough to sleep, but enough for Lazarus to free the arm that she was crushing. Enough to wrap it around her shoulder, to relish in the feeling of her cold nose in the warm crook of his neck.

It was good like this. Better when her fingers draped across the landscape of his pecks, felt his chest rise and fall like waves. Best when they awoke in the morning to the sun steaming in through the small, stained glass window above them. When their giggles shook the wagon. When their eyes met, closer than they’d ever been before. There, in the dim cocoon far outside the turning world, the smile that she had hidden for so long finally grew brave enough to capture his. And by the time they reached the towering stone walls of Torgaard, there was nothing more to hide from one another.

Eddie flipped the page to find only a black, plastic pocket. He rubbed it with his fingers to make sure it wasn’t sticking to another. When it failed to separate, he sat back and fumed. That was it. There was no more. No ending, no closure.

Sheri leaned against the top of the booth seat opposite him, hand on her hip, shifting between her dirty white sneakers with a tired sigh. “Listen sweetie, I’ve got ten minutes left of my shift. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I’ve gotta cash you out before I leave.”

Eddie glanced at his watch, almost 2:00. “Yeah—yeah, no problem. Sorry for the trouble.”

“’S no trouble, just the way it goes around here. Hope you enjoyed your stay,” she said with a wink as she dropped the check.

After six hours and two meals, Eddie had gotten his fill of watching the world turn through an old, frosted window. His head was spinning enough on its own. With a frustrated huff he peeled his graph paper and manual away from the sticky table before shoving them into his backpack. Slugging it over his shoulder, he grabbed the grease-stained check and made his way to the register. That was when he noticed it — the lonely, half-eaten omelette on the bar.

“Alright that’ll be ten seventy-five,” chimed Sheri.

Tinsel glittered on the tree. Red, metallic bulbs swayed in the echo of his footsteps. Judy Garland caroled on about a merry little Christmas and he wondered if your characters would ever enjoy anything over their shared kitchen table or if that dream would be abandoned for their duties as well.

“Sir?”

Snapping out of his trance, he fished for his wallet and palmed her a twenty. “Keep the change,” he muttered before turning toward the door with a hoist of his backpack.

Her jaw hung open. “Oh my word, are you serious?” she called to his back, but the bell above the door was the only answer she received.

______

Main Street Vinyls was a ghost town on a Thursday afternoon, and Eddie preferred it that way. Aside from Jerry at the counter, it was just him and his noisy thoughts, accompanied by the slow plod of his own heavy boots as they weeped against the carpet. At least in this store he could escape the onslaught of Christmas tunes. Jerry—old hippie that he was—at least had some sense. Sometimes even sense enough to play some halfway decent rock music, but today Eddie would settle for Neil Young over the jingle bell garbage blasting through every speaker in Hawkins.

Glancing down the rows of plastic cassette spines, Eddie perused the M section as he kicked himself for giving away almost ten dollars. There was an album by a new band he’d only read about in magazines called Megadeth. Turning the tape over in his hands, he examined the cover. Everything about it spoke to him — the skull with its mouth chained shut surrounded by knives and candles, the title — Killing Is My Business. Flipping it over to the back, the phrase continued in haunted red letters …and Business Is Good!

The change he gave away in a fit of blind stupidity would have easily afforded it and left him with some to spare. With a bitter sigh, he shoved the tape back in its slot, knowing for a fact that the cash register at Benny’s had eaten the last bill he had in his wallet. Padding slowly down the aisle, he began his calculations.

He had a few regular deals lined up this weekend but would need to dig into his “savings” in the bottom of an old tobacco tin and pay Rick a visit before any of that happened. He might make eighty bucks if he was lucky. Maybe eighty more over the course of the week between the deals at school. Nobody wanted to spend too much time outside this time of year, so the park bench location was always iffy depending on how bad it was. He would resort to other classic meetup spots, like under the bleachers or the back of his van.

If he networked enough he might have some left over after helping Wayne with the bills. Scanning past the Tina Turner and T-Rex tapes, he wondered how much Wayne suspected about his little business. Surely he had to have some suspicion. Gig money, odd jobs, and oil changes for neighbors couldn’t possibly afford the kind of gear he had, or the ink in his skin, or the cash he contributed monthly. Wayne was sharp, and though he was no saint himself, he shuddered to think what he would say if he discovered his nephew was straying down the same path his brother took.

Peering back over his shoulder, he eyed the Megadeth tapes again—only three in stock—lined up like gifts wrapped in cellophane. They were such tiny things. Small enough to hide beneath his palm, to slide into the pocket of his coat with room to spare. Glancing up at the angled surveillance mirror in the corner of the store, he saw Jerry at the counter, humming obliviously as he stuck price tags on a fresh shipment of tapes. Over the tall shelf that separated them, he expected to meet his own eyes, but instead saw another man. A man he hadn’t seen in quite a while.

Eddie remembered finding a G chord for the first time; how big the fretboard felt in his small hand, how awkwardly his fingers had to stretch, how a larger set of hands had helped him find it. He earned a broad smile when the chord rang out, one he would search for again and again with every strum.

Sometimes in the late evenings as he crept past Wayne with a lunchbox full of drugs while he was watching reruns of Bonanza on the couch, Eddie would tell himself that at least he wasn’t stealing cars, or drinking himself half to death, or rotting behind county bars. At least he was still in school, something Warren Munson couldn’t say even at sixteen. At least Eddie could say he was trying.

With a bitter shake of his head, he continued down the aisle, leaving the tapes behind for the record bins that lined the walls. Mindlessly he walked his fingers over the cardboard spines, glazing past titles he’d seen a dozen times. Nothing new. Nothing different. Few things ever were in Hawkins. Every day he’d wake up and slog himself to a different type of prison, sit in a classroom for eight hours and actively feel his brain rotting. He would crumple up his failed tests and shove them in his backpack, endure the stares from kids whose parents cared enough to give them a ride to school, day after day. And every day he would come home and see the twinge of pride on Wayne’s face for the fact that he’d gone at all.

There were a few perks to sticking around, like running his club, and saving lost sheep, and seeing his friends everyday. Like having a swath of potential customers all in one place. It was safe and familiar, like a cage. His little business might be dangerous and criminal but at least it could afford him one thing he valued even more than ink or gear — freedom. Time, for another thing. Flexibility. It sure as hell beat making three dollars an hour flipping burgers or having to answer to some corporate boot-licker telling him what to do. Eddie huffed sharply, wondering what you would think if you knew. You, with your tightly buttoned blouses and endless patience. You, the very last person he wanted to disappoint.

The last look he’d seen on you destroyed him when he thought about it; the pain in your eyes and bitter line your pretty lips became. You were just about the only reason he had left to show up to class anymore, and now that was getting in the way of the one thing that actually had potential in his eyes. Way more potential than a stupid piece of paper that says, congratulations, you’re a real member of society and not a complete disappointment.

You had asked him a question back when you’d first made the arrangement to help him, one that rattled around in his brain ever since. Why did he want to graduate? If his memory served him, he’d given a relatively bullshit answer: to prove all the assholes in this god-forsaken purgatory wrong. It still held a fair amount of truth, but when he glanced up at the surveillance mirror again and saw himself this time, the real answer was abundantly clear. But was proving a point worth the risk of losing you?

The smell of cardboard and cellophane kissed his face as air puffed between each record falling forward. Each a different picture, some repeats of the same. Rock gods wielding wicked weapons, bathed in holy stage lights somewhere in New York or Los Angeles probably. Somewhere important. Sometimes at the Hideout he would close his eyes and imagine he was on one of those stages, but when he would open them as the last note rung out, it was always the same — just Bill and Drunk Sam, maybe a couple of bikers perched at the bar with their backs to him. Empty stools and sticky tables. A weak applause.

Eddie stepped back from the record bin with a heavy sigh and glanced at his watch. He’d killed about thirty minutes in this store, which meant he had at least twenty more before he could return home without triggering Wayne’s suspicious questions. The walls were starting to close in around him — posters like windows into a world far out of reach. Every million dollar strum reverberating through the speakers like a mocking reminder. With a half-hearted wave to Jerry stocking shelves, he left the store. Empty handed.

The drive down Randolph was always dismal, especially in the bleak winter light. Storefronts with yellowing signs that hadn’t changed in twenty years selling mattresses and televisions. A gas station with a rusted awning, dusted with snow. Architecturally speaking, the church was about the most interesting building, but only because it was brick and made up of more than just four flimsy walls. Even that was being generous though. The most exciting thing to happen to Hawkins since the housing development over by Factory Lane thirty years ago was the shopping mall that opened this past summer. Thrilling.

No matter where he drove within a fifty mile radius, it was all the same — a tomb where dreams went to die.

Gripping the steering wheel, he watched the car in front of him make grooves in the dirty slush, hypnotized by the spray off the sides of the tires. It wasn’t until he saw the high school approaching in his peripherals that he even looked up. It always felt good to be on the other side, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be. He could almost see you in there; brushing the chalk off your hands, shifting between your tired feet as you glanced at the clock, gazing out the window with a longing he’d seen in his own reflection — caught sometimes at night in his drivers seat window as he cruised the highway, dreaming of where it could take him.

As the squat fortress faded in his rearview mirror, he pictured you five years from now. Ten. Twenty. Wasting away in front of that chalkboard. Rattling on about stories written by dead people while your own collected dust inside a closet. While your talent withered like the dead, crumpled leaves under the snow; buried and forgotten.

With a hard right onto Prospect, he set out on the final stretch towards home. Sometimes he liked to imagine what might happen if he just kept going, just drove into the sunset and only stopped for gas. He had a vague idea from the movies and the maps that swayed in the wake of Ms. O’Donnell’s lumbering footsteps. Sometimes in the height of his boredom he would lose himself in them, imagine he was at a diner in the desert on his way to a gig with an actual sound system. Because somewhere out there—beyond the flat horizon—there were mountains, and canyons, and cities where names couldn’t follow.

______

“How does it end?” Eddie asked you on Friday between the fourth and fifth period bells. You glanced up from the stack of papers on your desk, cocking your head with narrowing eyes. “Your story,” he clarified.

“Oh.” Blinking, you sat back to ponder. “You know, I don’t think I ever fully decided. Cybelle is in a difficult position. The whole reason she set out on this adventure was to save her brother. I imagine she would want to fulfill her quest, but if she returned to Myrne, it may be difficult to leave again. Plus, she may receive some sort of punishment for leaving in the first place. I had written the laws to be quite strict, if I recall. And then if she chose not to return, her mother would lose two children. No matter what, she loses.”

Eddie furrowed his brow, shifting between his boots with a pained sigh. “I would hardly call a life with Lazarus losing. She seems happy with him.”

“Right, well, of course that would be ideal, but…” you tsked, “it’s complicated, and honestly that’s partially why I abandoned it. I really wrote myself into a corner. Well, that and student teaching started to eat up my time. Then it was finals, and moving, and then after that I met…” you trailed off with a bitter shake of your head. “Anyway, I guess life got in the way. It has a way of doing that, I’ve noticed.”

Eddie looked at you, really looked. You, in your cable knit sweater with pen on your hand and sandbags under your eyes, casting them down over your work with the same amount of hope he’d seen from players rolling threes with even fewer hit points to spare. He racked his brain for something he could offer—a dramatic death speech or a new character sheet—but you weren’t playing and he wasn’t prepared. Any words of comfort forming on the tip of his tongue were swallowed by the ringing bell, and he exited your classroom feeling the same as when he entered; unsatisfied.

______

It was starting to close in around you — the colored lights and ornaments, the mall Santas and fake green swags draping from shop windows. It was the first Christmas you’d truly spent in Hawkins since you graduated college, outside of day trips for visits. Surprisingly little had changed, the main thing being the fact that there even was a mall for Santa to post up in. Duplication must have been one of his many powers because he was still at Sears too, at least he was on Saturday when you dragged yourself out of the oppressive quiet of your apartment and into the bustling chaos.

You had no idea what to get your relatives for Christmas. You never really did, but this year it seemed insurmountable. This year you had no one to bounce ideas off of, and the constant mental chatter left little to no room for inspiration. As you scanned the shelves of cookware and appliquéd dish towels with snow men and reindeers, nothing really seemed to jump out at you.

What did jump out at you—or rather, jumped out at his sister—was a little boy across the aisle hiding in a circular rack of women’s bath robes. Pressing apart the terrycloth like curtains, he would retreat into his makeshift cave to the complete oblivion of his mother, who seemed more preoccupied with the price tags on a set of lingerie than with the whereabouts of her children.

A fantasy tugged at the corners of your mind, more sinfully indulgent than the one you had in class last week involving your desk and Eddie’s tongue. This time the set was the same as the scene before you, only the little boy had a mess of dark curls and Eddie was diving in after him. Not to scold him, but to play. You could almost see those fraying knee holes widening from contact with the carpet. Almost hear the giggles and the shushes and the click of his rings against the metal pole in the center of the rack for balance. You could almost turn around and see them popping out at you, feel the laughter ripple up through your very full belly and into the corners of your eyes as you feigned surprise to both of their delight. You could almost feel the glares from the other shoppers, the regular people eager to get on with their Saturday in peace, same as any other. It wouldn’t matter though, not in your little world.

The real mother in the real world did eventually turn around, grabbing the boy by the wrist and demanding he stay by the cart. Turning a dish towel over in your palms, you lowered your eyes to the machine-embroidered stitching of a corn cob pipe and a button nose as the fantasy disintegrated. You left the store shortly after, your cart just as empty as when you’d arrived.

On Monday it was hard to look him in the eyes. It was easier to meet Diane’s. At least this week you could hold a conversation without crumbling like Ms. Click’s half-eaten fruitcake up for grabs in the teachers lounge. But the coffee was bitter on your tongue, like a lie you were telling yourself.

In accordance with your wishes, there had been no rap of knuckles on your door frame after school, no screeching of chair legs dragged across the tile, only the dull thud of folders sliding into your bag, the surprising click of a magnet under the flap.

On Wednesday you left behind footprints in the parking lot before it had even half cleared, only to be swallowed by the emptiness of your apartment. You filled the space with what you could manage — an early dinner, and an early bedtime. Sleep seemed to be the only thing that quelled the battering ram thoughts, the scales tipping back and forth so much it made you queasy. You would lie there and dream of swirling smoke and plush lips, of arthritic fingers punching numbers on an office phone as you sat and accepted your fate. You would toss and turn, back and forth until your sheets became a tangle, and when you faced the mirror Thursday morning you barely recognized the person staring back.

When the final bell rang on Friday, the hallways cleared out like someone had yelled fire. A mass exodus of students and staff, flowing into the parking lot like a tidal wave outside your classroom window. You watched them as snow fell in clumps, as bright colored backpacks disappeared into the back of sedans, as cars peeled out like a parade into the street.

Assessing the paper mountain range framing your desk, you made an educated guess at how you would be spending your two week break. In hindsight, it might have helped to make the due date for the senior creative writing project last Friday instead, but deep down you knew you would have hardly made a dent by now.

When Ms. Click popped her head in to wish you a merry Christmas on her way down the hall, she seemed surprised to find your hand still moving across paper, not swaddled in mittens like hers. You brushed it off with something casual, the type of thing any regular person would say before the holidays. That it was too much to take home. That getting work finished now would leave more time with your family. You omitted the more personal details like how empty your apartment felt and the small, naked tree your mother brought over last weekend. This seemed to placate her, and with a cheery wave she left you in the silence of your classroom with only the ruffling of paper for company.

It was eery how quiet it was, but it afforded you a small hill of graded papers in the last hour, double what you would typically accomplish in front of the television. Thumbing through what remained of that stack, you counted each staple. Five, six, seven… you stopped when a certain name jumped out in MLA format.

Eddie Munson American Literature — 4th Period 20 December 1985

No title.

Papers fluttered to the desk as they fell from your hands, leaving only his. You held it gingerly between your fingers, as if it was alive. As if it could feel you, or rather, you could feel him through every type-written letter, through the thumb-sized grease stain in the top righthand corner. You could almost hear him too, shifting into a deep, dramatic narration.

Mount Myrne loomed on the horizon like a dark omen. Towering over the bustling docks of Torgaard, it disappeared beneath the ominous clouds with a formidable presence. Merchants scattered about, hauling their wares in heavy crates and barrels onto the many zeppelins.

This was where Lazarus first met Cybelle. In his mind’s eye he could almost see her stumbling about in her clean silk boots and glimmering gold coat. But her appearance today told a different tale. Her boots were caked with mud, her coat was splattered with muck and tattered by claws, her mask hung crooked on her face. Those large eyes that once glimmered with hope and wonder now stared off into the distance with oppressive sadness at the looming mountain.

This was where he was supposed to leave her. This was what they had agreed upon many moons ago. Cybelle just stood there, shifting back and forth between her tired feet as she dug her thumbs under the straps of her heavy knapsack that now held the rare and precious ghostfern. She finally had what she came for. Any moment now she would be moving those muddy boots toward the docks and use what little coin she had to barter a one-way trip back home.

That was the plan anyway..

Cybelle was frozen though. Fearfully, woefully, bitterly, she gazed upon her gold gleaming home in the sky with a sadness that was only dwarfed by Lazarus looking down at her. He looked at her beautiful face like it was the last time he was ever going to get the chance to. He memorized it in his mind as he shuffled his own dirty boots against the cobblestone. He didn’t have eyes for anything else. Not the zeppelins, nor the merchants, nor the mountain. Only her. After a moment that felt like an eon, Cybelle took a step forward.

“Wait.” said Lazarus. Cybelle turned around with surprise but also a hint of relief. “You don’t have to do this.”

Cybelle looked up at him with a mournful frown. “Of course I do, my brother will die if I stay here.”

Lazarus shook his head bitterly. “No, he will die if the ghostfern stays here.” he said.

Cybelle sighed as she looked out across the docks, “But how is it going to get there if I do not deliver it? No one is allowed within the city walls if they are not from Myrne.”

Lazarus furrowed his brow as he watched the merchants at work, hauling their wares aboard the large, formidable aircrafts. Suddenly he had an idea. “There are docks in Myrne, correct? And Myrnish merchants who take goods into the city?”

The gears were starting to turn in Cybelle’s head. “Yes, there are.”

“Well then, can we send the plant with like, a note or something? Some instructions and directions for the merchant to take where it needs to go?”

Cybelle thought for a moment. “I do know a few of the merchants by name. Arturo and I grew up together. He was my neighbor for a long time. He would know where it needs to go, and my mother would know what to do with it.” The brightness in Cybelle’s eyes dimmed suddenly as she had another thought. “But… I would never seen them again. My family.”

“Never say never, Cybelle.” Lazarus said. “Do you know that for a fact?”

Cybelle frowned heavily, “The laws in Myrne are very strict.”

“What if in the letter you told your family to meet you on the docks some other time? Perhaps in another moon or two once your brother has recovered?” Lazarus offered.

Cybelle sighed bitterly, “Only merchants are allowed on the docks. It is strictly prohibited. I was only able to come here because I snuck inside a crate. It was a miracle that they didn’t notice me.”

Lazarus kicked a stray pebble and huffed. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I cannot tell you what to do, Cybelle. Only you can make that choice. But what I can do, really the only thing I can do, is tell you how I feel.”

All of a sudden there was a knot in his stomach. Because if he was going to say anything he knew that this would be his last chance..

“All my life I’ve dreamed about that cottage by the sea with the garden, and the bed, and the omlet. When I saw that pendant you were wearing I knew that it would be my only shot at ever getting what I wanted. Magic tricks are….. not exactly lucrative. And actually, if I’m going to be totally honest here, I figure you should know the truth about me. The whole truth.” Lazarus sighed, swallowing the bile creeping up his throat at the mention of the truth. He was going to be honest though. Maybe for once in his whole life. “This is difficult for me to say, but I owe it to you if nothing else. I’m a thief, Cybelle.”

Lazarus winced at his own words and Cybelle’s fallen expression, but he bravely continued..

“I confess that for a moment when I first saw you I thought about stealing that pendant, but once I heard your story and saw so much of my own I simply couldn’t. There is a goodness in you that I admire, how selfless and pure your cause is. Over the course of the last few moons I have had the privilege of spending with you, I have come to discover how beautiful the woman beneath the mask truly is. How kind, and curious, and patient you are. I have been all over this land. Traveled far and wide, through forests and over mountains. I have swam in lakes and oceans and gazed out over countless valleys. But never has the world looked quite so hopeful than when I saw it through your eyes. It made me believe that if you could see the beauty there, if you could see the goodness in me, then perhaps I can as well.”

It was startling — the tear that leapt over your lash line. Violently enough to hit the page, to blur the Os in goodness.

“If you choose to stay I promise you that I will never steal another coin or pocket watch. It may leave me poor for the rest of my days but if they’re spent with you, then I would be the richest man of all. It is all that I can offer you. My honesty, and a promise that I will show you more beaches, more mountains, more of the world than you could ever imagine. And since I intend to keep my promise, here is my honesty: I love you. Regardless of what you decide.”

With a trembling hand, you turned the page only to discover there was nothing on the back. Sitting back in your seat with a ragged sigh, you stared out into your empty classroom. Your nose stung, fluorescents flaring in your tear-blurred vision. Separating the pages with your thumb, you flipped back and read it again. The last paragraph. The last two sentences. Those three type-written words. Over and over, wedging in the cracks of your armor as your sniffles echoed off the tile.

The sun was dipping below the treeline, flooding the near-empty parking lot with a wash of somber pink. The snowfall had ceased, settled into the footprints and tire tracks. Glancing up at the clock and back down at the papers, you tried to imagine lifting another, scanning over sentences and writing in the margins like you hadn’t been completely upended by the one that trembled in your grasp. You couldn’t.

Tears dripped down your cheeks as you donned your coat, as you shuffled overstuffed folders into your satchel and slung its weight over your shoulder. You swiped at them with your scratchy wool sleeve, flicking off the lights and shutting the door.

The soft pink had cooled to twilight blue when your boots met the blanket of snow, leaving tracks in the clean, fresh powder. Your breath trailed behind you in heavy clouds. It was quiet here too, barely a scattering of cars in the parking lot. Not even the wind disturbed the limbs of the orderly saplings between the curb and sidewalk, dusted with a glittering powder.

Your hands found your keys, and the key found the hole, and soon you were sliding into your frigid leather seat, tossing the weight of your satchel on the passenger’s side with a dejected thump. You sat there a moment with only your breath for company before flicking your wrist at the ignition.

Nothing.

Stomping on the break, you lurched forward with conviction this time, as if you could convince it you were serious. All it awarded you was a weak, persistent click. It’s fine, you told yourself through gritted teeth as you lunged again, snapping your wrist with a startling anger, like the seal had been cracked on a two liter pop bottle that had rolled around in the trunk for a week and a half. Still, nothing but a pathetic click. A split second thought crossed your mind—that the ferocity of your stomp might actually damage the car—but the logic was quickly snuffed out by your rage. The hard plastic key bit into your numb fingers. Over and over — stomping, twisting, cursing. Cursing yourself most of all for being stupid enough to let this continue for months. You were paying for it now.

The tears were already waiting, primed behind your eyeballs, hardly dried on your cheeks when you left out the back door. They spilled over again, cooling as they dripped past your lashes, down the slope of your nose. One more time, you begged. Just one more time and I’ll be good, I swear. But the white Chevy Nova sat unmoved, offering only a vacant whine where there should have been a roar. You tossed back in your seat and huffed, chest heaving, filling the cramped space with the furious steam of your breath.

Snowflakes glittered in the floodlights, shining like flares through the blur of your tears. It might have been beautiful on any other evening — one where the engine was warm, and your mind was clear, and your heart didn’t sink like a pit in your chest. It was hard to notice anything outside your bitter sobs, most especially the shadow that appeared in the window beside you. The rap of rings on the glass had you jumping, whipping your head to face the set of eyes you’d been avoiding most of all.

“Need some help?” Eddie offered, bracing his knees in a crouch, eyes brimming with concern.

Your stomach twisted with relief, then embarrassment, then a million other things rolled into one, sick knot. Wiping the evidence from your cheeks with a futile swipe of your sleeve, you cranked down the window with your left hand. You must have looked like an absolute basket case, jerking your arm in tight circles as the barrier lowered with the urgency of a tortoise. When where was enough space for him, Eddie braced against the top of your door and ducked his head inside.

“Hey.” The warm sigh of his greeting kissed your cheek, thawing the sting of the cold.

“Hey,” you mimicked, sounding just about as stable as you felt when it came out. “W-what are you doing here so late?”

“Hellfire,” he stated simply. “You know, I could ask you the same question.”

Despite how true it was, it still felt pathetic when the answer left your lips. “Just… trying not to take so much work home with me.” You said it as casually as you could muster, but your voice betrayed you. Your cheeks were still cooling from the remnants of your tears, framing the heat from your dripping nose.

Eddie suddenly looked very serious, splintering your armor with his softness. “You ok?”

You gestured dejectedly at nothing, offering a hollow laugh. “No.”

Eddie filled the cabin with his sigh, eyes narrowing like he wanted to lunge through the window. Instead he just thumbed at the rubber and tipped his head closer, creaking your chest plate with the weight of his gaze. “You know, I could hear you clear across the parking lot,” he joked softly. “The car—I mean. Mostly. You leave your lights on or something?”

You shook your head. “It’s been doing this for months, ever since it started getting cold. I should have taken it to get checked out, but it usually starts after a couple tries.”

“Sounds like it might be the battery, or maybe the starter. I won’t know unless I try and jump it. I’ll swing around—if—if that’s ok.”

The wind ushered a curl toward his lips, and you clenched your hand to subdue it. “Yeah, it’s ok,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

With a nod, Eddie ducked out of the window and pivoted swiftly on his heels. From your side view mirror, you watched him make tracks in the blue snow with his heavy boots, hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced left and right, the ghost of his breath trailing closely behind. The seat creaked as you sat back and blinked like the cursor on a computer monitor; processing. One glance in your rearview mirror told you how disheveled you looked. Even in the twilight there was no masking the puffiness around your eyes, the mascara bleeding toward your cheeks. You swiped at them again, this time with a napkin from your glove box.

With a yank of the frigid handle, Eddie slid across the plaid and pleather padding into the drivers seat of his van. He froze for a second, glancing in his rearview mirror toward your small white sedan. Butterflies tore through his stomach, churning like a tornado as he flicked the ignition. Out of all his ridiculous fantasies, he hadn’t entertained this one. Not exactly anyway. One where you were the damsel in distress. One where he got to be the hero.

The parking lot was vacant enough to drive across the lines. Ploughing through the naked patches where cars had spent the afternoon, he rumbled up beside you. Your stomach did a summersault when he stepped out, plodding around to the front of your car with jumper cables slung under his arm.

“Can you pop the hood for me?” he asked.

The summersault rippled south through your abdomen. Reaching down under the console, your fingers found the leaver and obeyed. You felt kind of useless, just sitting there while he propped the hood onto the stand, shielding him from vision. Before you could form another thought, your hand was moving on its own, finding the plastic leaver of your door and opening it to the cold evening air.

Eddie gave a shy look from behind his curtain of curls before stepping back with a nod. “Well, good news, there’s no monsters,” he joked.

A smile cracked across your face, so genuine it almost felt foreign. You tucked your hands into your pockets, stepping closer to assess the engine like you knew what you were looking at. Your aura prickled with proximity, like his heat could thaw you even from where you stood. Eddie’s glance was soft and quick before procuring a small flashlight from his inner coat pocket. He held it in his teeth, flipping up the red and black plastic covers on the battery terminals.

“I have hands too, you know,” you said with a smirk.

With a playful side-eye, he clamped the appropriate cables onto the terminals. Removing the silver torch from his mouth, he made room for his retort. “Mmhm, best keep ‘em warm. It’s uh, kinda chilly out.”

You shook your head as a laugh escaped your nostrils in a plume. Sauntering over to his van like a dark knight, Eddie leaned in the door to pop his own hood. Your boots made tentative tracks in the snow, drawn like a magnet as he hoisted the metal. From the light pinched in his teeth you could see the expanse of the massive engine, the shadow of his furrowed brow as he unscrewed plastic knobs. What you saw more than anything though—like a filter laid over the scene—were three type-written letters. The hands that typed them fumbled with the cables, squeezed around the thick, jaw-like clamps. When they bit right where he wanted, they released; tendons flexing, knuckles pinking from the freezing air. Reflexively, he wiped them on the chest of his black hoodie peeking out from his open coat.

It might have just been the cold, but even in the twilight—in the absence of the flashlight he was tucking into his pocket—you could have sworn his cheeks flushed when he caught you staring. “Alright, um, go ahead and start your car. I’ll do the same.”

Following the tether that joined the two vehicles, you did as he told you. Nothing came of it though, just more incessant clicking. Exasperated, you tossed back in your seat before slumping out of the car once more.

“Shit, it must be the starter. Probably cracked, that’s my guess anyway by the sound of it,” Eddie explained as he stepped around to face your engine again. Clicking his flashlight, he peered into the compartment. “See, if you follow the positive terminal line all the way down, that’s where the starter will be. Only problem is it’s tricky to get to without a lift.”

You followed his grease-stained finger down the dirt-dusted tangle of tubes, drawing nearer under the subtle guise of interest in your engine. You stopped just inches from his solid leather frame, close enough to brush him with your elbow. “You seem to know your way around a car.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he muttered. “Wish I didn’t.” But before you could comment, he was shutting the hood. “I’m sorry, but I think we’re gonna have to call a tow truck.”

Your defeated sigh rose toward the clouds as you glanced at the squat school building. The lights were off. Judy’s car was absent from the lot, as were all but a handful, including the two of yours. Glancing at your watch under the floodlights, the big hand tipped past the golden dot where a five should be.

Eddie stepped closer, filling the gap with a heavy exhale before meeting your eyes. “You know I could, um—” he scratched the back of his neck, words evaporating quicker than his breath. What could he do? What could he really do about any of this? For most of his life he’d been a leaf on the wind, scuttling across the pavement toward the gutter, struggling to steer himself away. But you were stranded, and if there was anything he was good for, it was a ride. “I could—I could take you back to your place. If you’re ok with that, I mean. We could—fuck—I mean you could call from there a-and I could—”

There were chinks in your armor, cracking with each bumbling word. You looked at him, really looked. Eddie Munson, with grease-stained hands and eyes that pierced like arrows in their pleading. Straight through to the softest part of you, the place between your ribs that cries I want. And oh, how desperately you wanted. Wanted to soothe his worried lips in yours again, to feel his pounding chest again, to be thawed by his heat again. But you just stood there, frozen.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his open coat, he shifted on the balls of his feet as he searched for more words in the snow. “Look, I know you said you wanted space, a-and it probably seems like—shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing with a sharp sigh. “I just want to help you. Will you just let me help you? Please?”

Your chest plate clattered to the concrete, gauntlets falling in a heap beside your greaves. There was no white flag to wave. No sword to relinquish, or shield to discard. Your surrender was nothing but a soft “okay,” barely heard above the howling wind.

______

A/N: After over a year and 100k words, the smut chapter is finally upon us! Thank you for coming with me on this very long journey and sticking it out. I have no idea how long this next one is going to take me to write, but I can promise you that when it’s finished you will experience every moment in exquisite, delicious, poetic detail.

You might have noticed that I’ve pulled a few small details like character names and places from Flight of Icarus, but I will not be retconning any of Eddie’s backstory.

Also random, tumblr decided to make that one paragraph bold once I changed it to chat font with no ability to unbold it, but that wasn't intended. It kind of worked though so I'm not mad.

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @raccoonboywrites @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @keeponquinning @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me #dssctm

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facts-i-just-made-up · 3 months

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whats the most powerful dessert in the world

In the summer of 1877, a man walked into Clarabelle's Chocolate Cake Shoppe in Boletaria, Michigan. He ordered a Rich Chocolate Cake, their specialty. What he got was said by all who had ordered the same to be a delightfully rich dessert, but he was not impressed. He asked to see Clarabelle and told her the cake wasn't at all rich to his palate. She apologized and not only refunded his cake, but promised to make him a much richer cake if he'd come again, money back guaranteed.

He came in the next day and took her up on the offer. She made him a special cake with twice the chocolate, but still, he found it underwhelming. True to her word, she refunded it and promised that if he'd give her one more chance, she'd give him a cake he couldn't possibly find bland. He accepted.

The next day, he came in for his cake. Clarabelle had made a new cake with ingredients known to include several pounds of concentrated cocoa, several blocks of pure chocolate fudge, at least two essential humors from the cocoa seed, and also one unknown substance, present in only a gram but said to have been delivered under armed guard by the Pinkerton Agency, which she ordered her staff out of the kitchen to fold into the batter.

The result was a strange cake that her waitstaff described as "barely-a-cake," held together by a minimum of flour and egg. It glowed brown and smelled most pungently of chocolate, a harsh sort of chocolate akin to sulfur in the burning sensation it caused in those near it.

The man sat down and ate a slice while Clarabelle and her entire staff watched, waiting to see what would happen. They found out, but few lived to tell. The man's head, according to the sole surviving waiter, melted quickly before exploding in a colossal chocolate burst that leveled the restaurant, killing Clarabelle, three Pinkerton Agents, four customers, two waiters, a passing ox, and left the entire region uninhabitable for 140 years. Nothing grows in the region to this day, but scientists have finally begun cataloging the state of the area and allowing critical personnel into the area with high-level biological protection.

The government naturally hid this from public knowledge for fear that Clarabelle's Last Cake could be duplicated by terrorists or food vloggers, but thanks to the freedom of information act, we now know the legacy of the cake if not its secret ingredients. The man who ordered the cake is still there. Nobody knows his name, but his body stays smouldering to this day, smelling strongly of delicious chocolate batter, and will still for a half-life of 400,000 years. Called "The Cadbury Bunny's Foot" by scientists, his remains are considered the most intense chocolate concentration in the solar system, perhaps the galaxy owing to the lack of genuine cocoa plants off the Earth.

It is still only half as terrible as those damn 90% Cacao Lindt bars.

#chocolate #dessert #cake #chocolate cake #unreality

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bugrry · 1 year

Text

you're the thing that's crystal clear

hbo!joel miller x fem!reader

hello lovebugs!!

a/n: after thirteen months of no new writing, the inspiration bug finally bit me again! please please please let me know what you think! hopefully i'll have more works coming out in the next few months, fingers crossed! :EDIT: at first i'd had it written that it was a gn reader, forgetting that i'd used she/her pronouns for the reader. so sorry!

in this fic there are spoilers for episode six of the last of us AND i have not played the game, so if there are any inaccuracies, sorry!

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, reader and joel reuniting (let me know if i missed/forgot about anything!)

word count: 3,105

part two

Joel and Ellie had been at the commune for three whole hours before Joel can bring himself to ask about you.

“Where is she?” Joel finally asks as the four of them sit together and enjoy their meal. Tommy sighs, as though he’d been waiting for Joel to ask the question. He probably had been.

“I don’t know, Joel,” Tommy grunted, piercing the last morsel on his plate with his fork.

“You said she came here with you,” Joel grumbles, his voice just above a whisper.

“I also said she didn’t want to talk to you,” Tommy responds, swallowing and standing. He grabs his and Maria’s plate once she indicates that she’s done eating. Tommy moves to go to the kitchen, and Joel is following close behind him.

“So she’s here.” He tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but he doesn’t think he was all that convincing. He also doesn’t think he really cares.

Tommy turns to him, almost snatching Joel’s plate out of his hands. “I’ll tell her you’re here. Let her decide what to do about it. Don’t you dare go lookin’ for her.”

Joel sighs as he watches Tommy walk away from him, and he decides that he’s going to explore the rest of the commune. He eventually finds himself alone, sitting at a bar in an empty restaurant, thinking about the last time he saw you.

Three Years Ago

“Joel please!” You begged from where you stood with your half-packed backpack.

“No. I’m not joinin’ those Firefly fucks.” He stood tall and intimidating in front of you, almost like he was going to physically stop you from leaving.

“Even if I have to go?” You said sharply, turning to grab another essential from your small cabinet.

“You don’t have to go.” Joel almost scoffed.

“I’ll die if I stay here.”

“I’ll protect you!” Joel’s hands flew out from where they’d been at his sides. You flinched at the movement and the sudden change in his tone.

“You can’t. Not from this.” You mumbled, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

“From what?!” He continued to speak harshly, and you had to push through the instinct to just shut down.

You dropped what you’d been holding, pressing the palms of your hands into the edge of the counter.

“From myself!” You took a deep breath and finally turned to face him. “I am rotting here, Joel. I need to get out. For good.”

You had tried so hard to find a purpose here, with him, but every passing day only convinced you further that staying in Boston would kill you. One way or another, you knew that staying here would lead to you being just another one of the bodies that Joel had to toss in the pit. You shuddered at the thought.

“You’ll rot there too! You can’t pick and choose your life anymore, Y/N! It’s like this everywhere!”

You shook your head, feeling heat rush into your face. “It doesn’t have to be! What if there’s something else out there? Something better?”

“You want to risk your life to find out?”

“Yes, Joel! I have to!” You heard your voice crack, and it was evident that the desperation in your body language had finally seeped its way into your words.

“Fine!” He barked, turning towards his liquor cabinet as you finished shoving your things into your bag.

“Fine!” You pushed the whimper out of your voice as you zipped your bag shut and made your way out of your shared apartment.

Once you’d slammed the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against the weakened wood. You shut your eyes as tight as you could, trying to will the tears away as you left down the stairs to where Tommy was waiting for you outside.

Present Day, 2023

“Joel?” A soft voice comes from behind where Joel had parked himself at the bar. Joel’s head snaps up at your near-silent entrance. “Is that you?”

“...Y/N?” He curses himself for letting someone sneak up on him yet again. But once he sees your face, sees that you’re okay and alive he feels himself deflate. He hadn’t heard from you since you left, only getting bits and pieces from his brother, though Tommy had refused to give Joel much more than that. Joel was sure that had been at your request. After a while, Joel had stopped hearing from Tommy altogether, and thus lost access to whatever minuscule amounts of information he’d been getting about you.

“They said that Tommy’s brother had come through. Guess they weren’t lyin’.”

“Guess they weren’t.” He mumbles, turning back to where he’d been picking at the chipping wood of the bar.

“You’re really gonna leave her?” You say softly, coming around to the other side of the bar. You pull two glasses from under the counter and turn to grab a bottle of whiskey off the shelf behind you.

“Shit. How fast does word spread around here?” Joel says, watching your every move, trying to memorize the way you fit into this place so naturally, trying to convince himself that you’re happier here. Without him.

“Fast enough.” You sigh, placing a half-full glass in front of him. “Dammit.” He doesn’t grab the glass right away, staring at the sloshing liquid until it stills.

“You can’t leave her.” You say, resting your now empty hand against your hip.

“Like you left me?”

You sigh, moving to pull a stool from under the counter. You can’t bring yourself to sit directly next to him, not yet. You needed the foot of space that the bar provided to keep you from completely drowning yourself in his presence. “I didn’t have a choice, you know that. You meant the world to me. You still do."

“Do I?” “Joel.” You hesitate. “Do I?” He barks, and there’s a harshness to his words that hadn’t been there when he’d first asked the question. You appear to flinch, but he chooses not to comment on your obvious apprehension. You take a minute to compose yourself before beginning to speak.

“Of course you do. There hasn’t been anyone since you. I don’t know if there ever will be.” You look down at the bar in front of you, daring only once to sneak a peek at Joel’s hands that had finally clasped around the glass. “You don’t have to lie for me. I’m a big boy.” He takes a swig of his drink, grimacing at the pleasant burn it left as it traveled down his throat. “I’m not lyin’. You were it for me.” You continue to avoid his eyes as you busied yourself with wiping down the counter.

Joel grumbled, wanting to drop his head onto the old wood in front of him. “You’re too young for me to have been it for you.” “Maybe so, but I loved you.” “Loved?” “What does it matter to you?” You snap, finally looking up at him and meeting his eyes. It was then that you noticed just how tired he was. Sure, he’d been grizzled and tired when you’d last seen him, but it seemed that the last three years had aged him faster than the previous seventeen had.

“Never mind.” He says, breaking eye contact and looking back down at where his fingers traced the carvings in the glass.

You soften, realizing just how much you’d truly missed him, how much you still miss him. You miss the way he’d hold you after a supply run went wrong – or right, for that matter. Joel had loved holding you whenever he got the chance. You miss the way he’d laugh at one of your shitty jokes, playfully pushing you away from him as you tried to get him to admit he’d found it funny. You blush when the thought pops into your head, but you also miss the way he’d put his whole body into kissing you, always made you lose yourself in the feel of his lips, his hands, and his thighs pressed against your body. You didn’t want to dig yourself any deeper of a hole, so you decide to bring the topic back to something you could think about without wanting to scream.

“Please don’t leave her, Joel.”

Joel groans, looking back up at you and frowning, “We’re back on this?”

“It’s important. I can tell how much she means to you.” “It’s none of your business,” he says, taking a final swig of his drink.

“Isn’t it?”

He shakes his head, looking down at the empty glass in front of him, “Nope.”

“I suppose it’s not,” you relent, moving to pour him another few ounces. He lets you.

“I’m glad we finally agree on something.”

You nod, looking down at the bottle in your hands. You place the bottle back on the shelf, turning back to take a drink out of your own glass. You decide to push it further.

“Ellie’s not going to let you leave her.”

Joel sighs as if he’s annoyed that the conversation has continued, but he doesn’t leave. For that, you are thankful.

“What do you know about her?” He demands quietly, still refusing to look back up at you.

“I know enough.”

“I’m not gonna leave her,” he concedes, “I’m gonna give her a choice. Let her stay here or come with me.”

“She’s gonna choose you.”

“How do you know? You didn’t.”

“That was different.” “Was it?” He grunts.

“Yes. Because I regret it.” At this, his eyes snap up to meet yours. You’re looking at him sadly, as if it was obvious, as if he should have known that you regretted leaving him. Maybe he should have. He doesn’t say anything for a long while, just staring at you and watching the tears pool in your eyes.

“Oh,” is all he comes up with, and you frown.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? That I regret leaving you? That I’ve been miserable this whole time without you?”

“No, of course not,” he says sincerely.

You scoff, rolling your eyes and taking another drink from your glass, “Yeah right.”

“You think I wanted you to be miserable?” Joel says, finally standing from his seat at the bar, “I’ve thought about you every day since you left. I didn’t want to let you leave, but I also knew I had no power to stop you. I knew you were miserable in Boston. I knew I couldn’t convince you to stay.” “Even with how miserable leaving you made me feel, I think it was the right choice.” Joel frowns again, and the wrinkles around his eyes become only more prominent. You yearn to press the obvious hurt out of his face. You don’t let him speak, holding up your hand as you continue talking.

“I think I had to leave you. I don’t think I realized how important you were to me until I didn’t have you anymore.” At your words, Joel's frown only hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t you tell me what I mean, Joel Miller,” you snap, your back straightening from where you’d been leaning against the shelf.

“If I was so important to you, why didn’t you come back?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me back.”

Joel’s face softens. He looks at you like you’ve just told him the most heartbreaking news he’d ever heard. “What?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it, “You thought…” he trails off, not allowing himself to finish the thought.

“I thought you hated me.” You blurt. You curse yourself, you’d meant to say it softer than that, to maybe sugarcoat it a little bit.

“You thought I hated you?” You don’t answer him this time, merely shrugging and looking down and tracing the grain pattern of the bar. “I could never hate you.”

He says it so harshly you feel as though you’re being scolded, and it only makes you shrink further in on yourself. He notices your shift and softens. He comes around your side of the bar, needing to be close to you, to feel your warmth again. You allow him to approach you, and when you don’t shy away from him, he feels a part of him that has been asleep for three years reawaken. He is filled with a sort of warmth that he never thought he’d feel again as he reaches up to cup your face, speaking softly, “Sweetheart, I could never hate you. Never in a million years could I hate you.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek, and he may be imagining it, but he thinks he feels you press your face into his hand. You close your eyes, but he has more to say.

“Y/N, listen to me. We’ve been through too much for me to ever hate you. I’ve seen you at your absolute worst and I still wanted you so bad it hurt.”

You pull away from his touch, and he feels cold again.

“That was before I left,” You say, almost as if you’re ashamed of yourself.

“That’s true. Even after that, though. I never hated you. Not for a second.” “Don’t lie to me Joel,” you almost whimper, and you shut your eyes in embarrassment at letting your voice crack.

“I’m not lying to you. Sure, I was pissed. Heartbroken, even. I thought you and Tommy were idiots for leaving, but there’s no way in hell I ever hated you for it.”

You give a non-commital shrug, still avoiding eye contact with him, “sure,” you eventually mumble.

“I’m telling you the truth. I have to reason to lie to you.”

“To spare my feelings, maybe.” You say softly, now fidgeting with your fingers.

“When have I ever done that?”

This makes you chuckle quietly, and he’s filled with a sort of pride that warms him from the inside out. There’s my girl, he finds himself thinking. Your laugh and your smile fades, and with it, that fuzzy feeling in Joel’s chest.

“You should hate me.” You finally say.

“I know,” he says, reaching up to touch you again. This time, he reaches for your hair, pushing a lock of it from your face, “But I can’t bring myself to.”

It's quiet for a few moments before you speak again, “I thought I hated you.” Joel’s hand drops from your face.

“What?” He tries to keep the fear out of his voice, and from your lack of reaction, he hopes that he’s succeeded.

“I thought I hated you because you let me leave so easily. I thought you’d just decided you didn’t need me anymore. That I wasn’t worth fighting for. That was stupid, I realize that now. But I wrote some pretty bitter things about you in my journal.”

Joel’s hand moves back up to your face, this time to brush away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, “I could never not need you.”

You shake your head, moving out of his grip again. “You did just fine for more than a decade without me.”

“Maybe I just didn’t realize how alone I was.”

This makes you laugh again, but not in a way that fills Joel with warmth. It’s bitter, doubtful, and angry.

“I could show you,” he starts again, moving back into your personal space, “if you’d let me. I could show you how much you meant to me. How much you still mean to me.”

“I don’t…” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“If you’d let me, I’d spend the rest of my life showing you how much you mean to me.”

“Joel…” you start again, but this time you let yourself trail off, not knowing what you were going to say, just knowing that you should probably say something.

“Please sugar,” he starts again, placing his hands softly on your shoulders. You don’t move any closer, but you also don’t move away, so Joel keeps going, “You said it yourself. There’s still a small part of you that loves me, even if you probably shouldn’t.”

You mumble something to yourself, something Joel couldn’t make out. He reaches up to move your face towards him, to force you to look at him. You obey his silent request, looking up and into his eyes that were somehow still so soft, even after all these years.

“It’s not a small part of me, Joel,” you say again, speaking louder this time, “It was never a small fucking part. My whole being was devoted to you. It tore me apart to leave you. I was useless on the road. Once we were with the Fireflies, I threw myself into my work and my chores so that I didn’t have to think about the huge Joel-shaped piece that was missing from my heart. I hate myself for leaving, and I hate myself even more for not going back to Boston and fighting for you. I was a coward. I still am.”

By the time you’re finished talking, tears are streaming down your face. Joel is looking at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen, and it makes you want to curl into a ball and never speak to anyone again. He lets you cry for a moment before he responds.

“If you’re a coward, then I’m a coward too. I could have just as easily come looking for you.” “I never expected you to.” You squeak out, in between your sobs “And I never expected you to come back. That doesn’t mean I got over you leaving. I didn’t think I’d ever get over it. And I hadn’t, not until I saw you here.”

Once he finishes speaking, he finally pulls you into his chest and just lets you sob into him. He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there, in that empty bar, with his arms wrapped around you, but what he does know is that he never wants to let you go. Eventually, your sobs fade to quiet sniffles and you shift in order to wrap your arms around his body. Even though the two of you are pressed against each other, the way you grab at him makes it seem as though you need him even closer. You mumble something into his chest that he can’t quite make out, so he pulls you away from him. You whine at the loss of his touch, but you quiet once you see how he looks at you.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“I said I love you.” You sniffle, reaching up and wiping a tear from his face.

“I love you too, Y/N. God, do I love you.”

part two

#my writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #ellie williams #hbo #hbo!joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fanfiction

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year

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do u have any sort of website that can tell me jobs in a small town? trying to write a story set in a small town but i cant come up with any ideas for jobs apart from the essential ones like police or hospital

Jobs in a Small Town

Government: mayor, city manager, city council member, city attorney, city clerk, code enforcement officer, customer service representative, finance director, fire chief/firefighter, paramedic, human resources manager, information technology department, librarian, municipal court clerk/administrator/judicial specialist/court security officer, parks and recreation director, planning and zoning director, police chief/officer or sheriff/deputy, public works director, utilities clerk, wastewater plant operator

Business: business owner/operator or employee (such as a clerk, receptionist, manager, or administrator) at a shop, restaurant, cafe, gas station, mechanic, tow truck, locksmith, landscaper/lawn care, handyman, florist, funeral home, pool cleaner, daycare center, grocery store, feed and pet store, car dealership, clothing boutique, ice cream parlor, liquor store, bar, nightclub, community theater, "big box store" (like Walmart), warehouse store (like Costco), movie theater, mini-golf course

Medical Services: hospital (administration, doctor, surgeon, nurse practitioner, nurse, nurse's aide, respiratory therapist, anesthesiologist, orderly, receptionist, lab worker, security, etc.) Doctor's office or urgent care (administration, doctor, nurse, nurse practitioner, receptionist, etc.) Dentist or orthodontist (administration, dentist/orthodontist, dental assistant, orthodontic assistant, receptionist, etc.) Nursing home/assisted living facility (administration, doctor, nurse, orderly, etc.)

Random: country club employee, dog walker, babysitter/nanny, home nurse, museum director/curator/specialist/employee, town archaeologist (if area is rich in history), industrial jobs (mining, factories/manufacturing, farming/crop production, fishing/fisheries), wedding coordinator, convention center director, attorney, judge, taxi driver, utility repair technician, railway worker, bus driver, school jobs (principal, teacher, teacher's aide, librarian, cafeteria worker, counselor, security officer, custodian), airport jobs (administrative, security, service provider/employee, airline worker, pilot, flight attendant, plane mechanic)

That's all I've got at the moment, but keep an eye on the comments in case others come up with ideas! :)

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landonorizzz · 3 months

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SUMMARY: pierre is not the boyfriend of the year that everyone thought. his girlfriend is left to fend for herself, fourtunately she seems to have good people in her corner PAIRING: pierre gasly x ex! fem! ferrari media team! oc , [redacted] x fem! ferrari media team! oc (no faceclaim) WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, cursing A/N: this is my first one, it was supposed to be y/n BUT i just didn't like how it looked? idk, i needed to have a name so everyone meet Marceline ;)) A/N 2: this one's very twitter heavy, idk why, also we meet new characters

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liked by marcilazzaro1, vincent_fabbri and others

brunolazzaro03 next time i see him it's on sight

tagged: marcilazzaro1

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see all comments...

marcilazzaro1 oh baby brother, i love you too

↳brunolazzaro03 okay okay, just stop stealing my ice cream

landonorris and what are you gonna do, you're like 12

↳brunolazzaro03 im 20 and i've been training karate since i was 6 ;)) ↳landonorris ah, got it.

maxverstappen1 can i help?

↳brunolazzaro03 i mean, i guess? can you fight? ↳charles_leclerc no, he cannot. he's like a kitten ↳maxverstappen1 i CAN fight wtf, estebanocon can confirm ↳estebanocon that wasn't a fight, it was a shove

charles_leclerc oh shit you did karaoke without me? i'm hurt

↳brunolazzaro03 don't worry, you didn't miss much. she was awful ↳marcilazzaro1 oh i'm sorry that i was having fun and not singing like a pop star ↳charles_leclerc i'm sure it wasn't that bad, but you are legally obligated to go to a karaoke bar with us now ↳marcilazzaro1 name a time and place

marci's messages:

Marci: Okay, so I do have questions. Apparently.

Claire Ask away, I've told you I'm here to answer anything I can.

Marci: He was in Milan for 17-19th June. Did you meet up then?

Claire: Wait a sec, I'll check the messages.

Claire: He texted me on the 17th, we met up the next day.

Marci: Fucking hell

Marci: What a fucking dickhead

Marci: I can't believe him

Marci: No, actually, I can't believe myself! How could I be so stupid? I KNEW something was up.

Claire: What happened?

Marci: My birthday's June 18th. I had to be in the UK for work, tried to get him to come with me as well, but he said he was needed at the factory.

Claire: What the fuckk

Claire: I'm so sorry this happened to you and for my involvement in it.

Claire: Merda, che proprio stronzo

Claire: The audacity. And his dick ain't even that good.

Marci: Jesus. Ain't that the truth

Marci: What are you doing this weekend? I still have questions and I'd rather to talk about it face to face

Marci: If that's okay with you of course.

Claire: Yeah, sure.

liked by sebastianvettel, lance_stroll and others

marcilazzaro1 last moments in paradise ☀️ thank you for being my friends 💛 miss you already!

tagged: brunolazzaro03, sarah_scott, alliebanks, jonas_braun and jo_king

see all comments...

jonas_braun you gotta have more free weekends

↳ marcilazzaro1 yeah, let me just say that to the big boss i'm sure he'll be very happy about that ↳ jo_king scuderiaferrari ;) ↳ scuderiaferrari sorry, boss says she's essential ↳ marcilazzaro1 🤠

sundaylover hope you had a good break! ferrari media is different without you

↳ cuddlyriccx right??? it's way less entertaining ↳ elplanxincoming and charles is not enthusiastic at all lol

yukitsunoda0511 i found a good restaurant for singapore so you better come back

↳ marcilazzaro1 i can't wait!

shithappens this is so precious to me, you don't understand

danielricciardo so is my favorite media perosn coming back to work?

↳ marcilazzaro1 i need to make a short pitstop first but yeah ;) ↳ madi_races pitstop? ↳ marcilazzaro1 🤫

charles_leclerc can't wait to have you back!

↳ ilpredestinatox i NEED to know which side is charles on here

↳ cuddlyxricc so true bestie

carlossainz55 come back, they're making us do challenges without you

MONZA post race interview:

liked by sebastianvettel, clairobernie_x and others

marcielazzaro1 turns out that the only good thing about him was his taste in women ;)

tagged: clairobernie_x

see all comments...

ilpredestinatox IM SORRY???? RUE WHEN WAS THIS

elplanxincoming OH this is petty, I LOVE THIS

sundaylover this is the solidarity we need

↳shithappens she's a girl's girl 🥺

maxverstappen1 so that's what you're doing instead of working?

↳marcielazzaro1 i have boss' permisson so shush

fonzlove that's some queen shit right here

↳aussieboi YES

multi21apologist is NO ONE gonna mention the seb like??

↳ redmilton honestly, he's been in her likes for ages (since he made an acc i guess) so im kinda... used to it?

clairobernie_x who knew medicore sex could make this happen ;)

↳marcilazzaro1 CLAIRE 😳 ↳barbiegirl i just know pierre is reading this shaking in his boots

danielricciardo that's some fine views right there

sarah_scott and you didn't take me??

↳marcilazzaro1 next time babes, i promise

charles_leclerc this is amazing

↳clairobernie_x we know ;) ↳madi_races oh i like her, can we keep her?

nyoomf1 WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMOMS

liked by marcilazzaro1, sebastianvettel and others

clairobernie_x girls just wanna have fun (and bitch about stupid men)

tagged: marcilazzaro1

see all comments...

landonorizz i'm so happy they're friendly

madi_races oh they're so pretty

↳forzalec16 right??? im SO gay

marcilazzaro1 it was so good to officially meet you

↳clairobernie_x i'm so glad i reached out

shithappens this dynamic is precious, i don't wanna say "thank you pierre" but........

↳marcilazzaro1 thank you Pierre ;) ↳shithappens your honor i LOVE HER

madi's radio: pt. 2 is here! next ones might take some time cause i'm just swamped with course work and i have a buch of exams this week, sorry. also how are we liking the characters and dynamics so far?

tag list: @sunny44 @rockyhayzkid @biancathecool @unluckyyoshi

click here to be added to the carved my name taglist!

DISCLAIMER: i do not know anything about this people, this is not real life, this is just something for fun, i do not know anythings about their life or personalities!

#f1 #red bull f1 #f1 smau #f1 instagram au #max verstappen #pierre gasly #pg10 #alpine f1 #esteban ocon #lance stroll #lando norris #for fun #sv5

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 6 months

Text

Addiction

Part One: A Chance Encounter

Warnings: Language, mentions of alcohol and being drunk

A/N: Ok, so not smut, but its coming, we have to set the scene first 😉

You felt your phone buzz in your hand, the screen illuminating your face in the dark dining room as you looked through your text messages. You rested your back against the bar located in the corner of the room.

Darien: Wish you were here. London is boring without you

You: That’s impossible. You’re literally in my favorite city right now

Darien: I’ve been in my hotel ever since work ended. My team went out to the pubs without me

You: You should really be going out with them

Darien: Always thought my first time in London would be with you. Love you

You: I-

You were stopped from responding by a glass of liquor being shoved in your face. You looked up to see Sierra in front of you, double fisting two glasses of what you suspected to be a rum and coke, your choice of drink for these industry events. You were among the Hollywood elite tonight in a New York City restaurant, celebrating some actor, whose name you couldn’t bother to remembers, fifth trendy and over-priced alcohol launch. You were far from a celebrity, but often made the guest list of these events on behalf of your boss. Working as the assistant for the VP of publicity at Atlantic Records admittedly had very few perks, one of them being able to rub elbows at parties with the latest TV heartthrob or whoever managed to be at the top of the Billboard 100 chart that week.

Did you sound a little jaded? Sure, but you were also borderline tipsy.

“Was that Darien?”, she asked, looking around the room as she took a small sip from her glass. “Ooh, Bad Bunny. That’s five.” Sierra bounced on her tippy toes as you narrowed your eyes to get a better look across the dark room. The two of you had spent the last hour trying to identify as many celebrities as you could. You were losing, having accidentally mistaken Kevin Jonas for Joe Jonas. You tried to argue that it was an easy mistake, given that they were brothers, but Sierra was unwilling to give you a pass.

“I don’t think that’s Bad Bunny, and yes. He just got done with his meetings for the day. He decided to stay in the hotel for the rest of the night I guess.” You took a big swig of your drink. You way past the part of the night where you were still feeling the effects of alcohol. “All of his colleagues went out to some bars.” You slipped your phone back into your clutch, tucking the bag underneath your arm again. You’d respond to him when you got home later.

“Dull Darien”, Sierra slurred her words as she giggled out the nickname she had given your boyfriend when you started dating over three years ago. You caught her just as she stumbled over her heels, making a mental note to watch how many drinks she had.

Sierra had been your best friend since essentially birth. Your moms were best friends, and you grew up two houses down from one another. When you were kids you were attached at the hip, and not much had changed over the years, as she became your plus one to all of these events. She knew you better than you knew yourself, and she was never shy about how she felt about your boyfriends. There had been Jerky Jacob, your high school boyfriend, Bossy Brian, a guy you had dated right out of college who Sierra was convinced was a narcissist, and finally Two-Timing Trey, who had earned the name for obvious reasons.

“Enough with the nickname, S.” You warned with a dramatic roll of your eyes, knowing she had no intention on stopping. “He’s not dull, he’s just-“ you were having a difficult time finding a word that wouldn’t edge her on. “He’s boring. Just say it. Not an exciting bone in his body.” You opened your mouth to object, but quickly closed it. Truthfully you had no defense. Darien was boring, and that was putting it nicely. The first time you met him, you definitely didn’t feel the usual butterflies of excitement, but you were just getting out of your relationship with Trey, and you weren’t looking for thrill or adventure, you were looking for safety, and if Darien was anything, he was safe.

“I’m just saying, you’re hot as fuck, you could probably have any guy you wanted. Hell, you could probably walk up to any of these celebs and go home with them.” You scoffed, tipping your glass up to get the last drop of top shelf rum. The dress you were wearing was borrowed from one of your stylists friends, a sequin cocktail dress from 16Arlington with a rather large peekaboo cutout at the front that showed off your cleavage. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want some random celeb. Maybe I like my dull boyfriend.” Your words sent Sierra into a fit of giggles, partially from her inebriation and partially because she knew you were lying through your teeth. “Please don’t pretend like if Drake came up to you right now, you wouldn’t jump at the chance to leave with him.”

“Damn, my money was gonna be on Brad Pitt. He seems like more your type.” You turned on your heels to see a tall figure, his chestnut curls hitting right at his eyebrows, a frame to his gorgeous blue eyes, the rest of his hair cut into a mullet. You immediately noticed his handsome smile as you studied his face. You had learned early on in your career how to identify which guys were someone and which ones were wannabes in this industry. He was tall enough to be an athlete, but too lanky. He still had life in his eyes, something that a lot of actors lost when they realized they were selling their soul for a recurring role on a CW drama. That left someone in the music industry. You recognized him, his face was hung up in the halls of Atlantic Records, but the name escaped you.

“He’s a little bit out of my age range. I prefer my actors to still have a will to live.” Your joke earned you a chuckle from the-, the mullet suggested alternative band, but the cocky stance and southern drawl to his accent made you think rapper- the rapper. “Well, tell me-“, he paused to allow you to fill the silence with your name. “Y/N, and this is Sierra.” You gestured at your friend who was having trouble standing up straight, her hand gripping the bar to steady herself.

“Well, Y/N, Brad Pits loss is my gain.” His words were suggestive, no doubt, but he spoke with such a confidence, you weren’t sure if he was actually flirting with you, or if that’s just how he talked with everyone. “I’m Jack.” He extended his hand out to you, and you cautiously accepted, quickly breaking apart.

“I know where I know you from. You’re Jack Harlow! I love your song”, she snapped her fingers carelessly, hoping it would jog her memory, “Business Class.” She punctuated her words with a hiccup.

“Close enough.” He chuckled, his gaze never leaving your face. He was trying his hardest not to look down at your body, even though he thought you looked fucking gorgeous. “I thought I recognized you from somewhere.” Jack’s eyebrows perked up when you spoke. “I see your face every day on my way to work.” You could tell you lost him when his face fell. “Sorry, I should probably explain. I work for Jason.” You could see the dots quickly connecting in his mind. “Oh, fuck yeah, I love Jason. He’s keeps me out of trouble.”

You felt your phone vibrate against your side. You were inclined to ignore it until you felt it pulse a few more times. “Sorry, I have to get this.” You just missed Jack’s look of disappointment as you looked down at your phone.

Darien: Couple of pictures of the view from my hotel. Wish you were here.

You scrolled through the photos, all different, slightly out of focus angles of the Thames. Leave it to Darien to also take the most boring pictures.

“Must be really important.” Your head shot back up at Jack, who was now resting his elbows atop the bar. “Oh, it’s nothing.” You shook your head as your phone slipped back into your bag. “Just a family member.” You weren’t sure why you lied in the moment. Jack didn’t know you, and besides the initial flirting, he wasn’t trying to make a pass at you. At least as far as you could tell; you were just starting to sober up.

“Let’s ask Jack.” Sierra was now standing in the middle of the two of you, leaning a little too close to Jack for comfort. He backed up as he smelled the vodka on her breath. “Jack, Y/N is dating this guy right now, and I think he’s just the most boring person on the planet.” Jack looked at you with a smirk on his face as you tried to hide your embarrassment, feeling the heat creep up your neck. Jack was hotter than any guy you had previously dated and was already more exciting than your current boyfriend just in five minutes of conversation.

“I mean, the only thing he likes talking about is Game of Thrones and his Lego collection.” Sierra continued, ignoring your pokes to her side to get her to shut up.

“He sounds like a fucking nerd.” Jack uttered under his breath, but you heard him loud and clear. Sierra did as well, frantically nodding her head. “He totally is.” She lowered her head, most likely thinking that was going to help her whisper, but her next words were loud above the blaring music. “Plus, she told me the sex is terrible. Like he barely lasts for more than a couple minutes.” You caught the look of smugness on Jack’s face as he listened to how unsatisfying your current sex life was.

“Okay, I think that’s enough. Time for you to go home.” You yanked at Sierra’s arm, causing her to fall into Jack. He caught her just in time, helping to hold her up. You roughly grabbed her phone out of her hand, pulling up the Uber app. “Fuck”, you cursed under your breath, seeing that the closest Uber was about 30 minutes away and surge pricing had gone into effect.

“Hey, I’ve got a car waiting that you guys are more than welcome to use to get back to your place.” Jack could tell you were more than done with the night, and he hoped his gesture would smooth out your less than successful meet cute. “Are you sure, we really can wait for an Uber.” As if she had timed it, Sierra’s knees buckled, Jack catching her under her arms. “I’m sure.

****

You rubbed your hands up and down your arms, crossing them over your chest as you left the venue. It was colder now than when you arrived, and you were wishing you had that coat that was laying on your bed back at your apartment. Jack followed behind you, Sierra’s arm draped over his shoulders for support. You quickly located the black SUV waiting at the curb, and opened the door, watching as Jack helped Sierra into the back of the vehicle, immediately slumping over to lay across the seats.

“Thanks, Jack, I really appreciate you letting us borrow your car. How are you gonna get back?” You looked at your feet as you asked the question, resisting the urge to look up at his face; his eyes were even brighter underneath the streetlights.

“I’m actually staying right there.” He pointed across the street to a tall metropolitan style building, the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. He stuck his hands into the front pocket of his trouser pants, his shoulders pinned to his ears as he tried to stay warm as well. “The car was just in case I wanted to head to another party, but the hotel bed sounds a lot more appealing right now.” There was that tone again, so suggestive, as if he was inviting you to his hotel room as well. “Have a good night, Y/N. Hope I see you again.” He extended his hand out, his nails perfectly manicured, and you found yourself wondering what his hands would feel like exploring your body. You let that thought ruminate in your head for a second before coming back to reality. You grabbed his hand, returning the gesture, the two of you lingering on the sidewalk. “Goodnight.”

Jack watched as you climbed into the vehicle next to Sierra, before jogging across the street to his hotel.

“He seemed like a nice guy”, Sierra remarked as she rested her head against your shoulder, closing her eyes, “and he was hot as fuck.” She let out a hum of amusement as she started to drift off to sleep.

“Yeah, such a nice guy.” You flipped the room key around in your hand that Jack had planted there. You grazed your thumb over the engraved letters, “The Waldorf Astoria Hotel, Room 1423”, emblazoned in gold lettering on the plastic card.

Tag-List:

@jacks-daycare

@livsters

@katiaw2

@xangelonmyshoulderx

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

@j0hkiya

@bell3e

@isisosidixj

@caroline334

@lightsoutstyles

@hufflewhore128

@jackscurlyhair

@jackharloww

@brixo

@beautiifulpeople312

@bernelflo

@taniapri

@ageofthebarbarians

@honeyharlows

@aga21

@iheartharlow

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@w1ldthoughts

@jackslilsecrett

@harlowcomehome

@fantasywritersstuff

@exoticr0ses

@iknowdatsrightbih

@itsyagirljaz

@hoodharlow

@bobthe-turmpetman29

@wittyjasontodd

@purecinnamonextract

@fluidsentiment

@comehomeimissyou

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

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mistydeyes · 9 months

Text

what's in 141's pockets and bags: kyle "gaz" garrick edition

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊

Gaz's black belt bag (probably purchased from Lululemon) is organized and practical. He doesn’t remember when he got the pins but he likes the way they add some style to the bag. Amongst the various pockets, he always knows where everything is as well as their purpose :)

oyster card - he does have a drivers license but it’s so much easier to take the tram and avoid traffic!

hand sanitizer - his oyster card and hand sanitizer go hand in hand, he’ll be applying that always (especially before a meal)

airpods + case - after always having his guard up on the field, he loves to listen to music as he walks and does errands

chapstick - you cannot say that he doesn’t moisturize! especially in the cold winter, chapstick is an essential and he prefers the carmex or aquaphor brand

travel size deodorant - gaz has never been more embarrassed when he hopped on the tram and realized how sweaty he was after a workout or errands. now he carries a small deodorant everywhere. also he just looks like he would use old spice

pens - an essential (especially when people ask for his number)

restaurant coupons/menus - loves trying new places when he’s home, anything beats the food from the meal hall or mre’s

iphone 14 - as a millennial, he’s addicted to his phone and catches up on all of the newest memes when he’s home

deck of cards - a simple item that functions as a bar game or something to pass the time with his mates

phone charger - the worst thing that can happen while on the tram is your phone dying so gaz is prepared with a charger

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊

Part II - Simon “Ghost” Riley

a/n my newest little series of headcanons and illustrations!

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #gaz imagine #kyle garrick imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing #izzie is drawing #mw2 fanart

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simmervlogs · 30 days

Text

Hello Simmers, come and pamper yourself at Paradise Palms! A 5 star resort and spa in Sulani.

Sulani is known as a jet-set haven, but Paradise Palms is the definition of quiet luxury. Designed to embrace its natural surroundings, the resort's 3 villas as well as it's other amenities is packaged for the perfect island getaway. This resort is a holistic haven and the only in the Sulani. Restaurant Le'Mere in Paradise Palms extends from the open-air, pavilion-style restaurant to the beach. Cuisine takes a cue from French-Caribbean and southern European fare (with a fine-dining touch) and guests can order fruit platters and the classic club sandwiches, plus beach essentials like chairs, towels, robes and umbrellas.

The three feature sprawling villas have their own private pools and terraces facing the magnificent lava rock facade of Sulani. Whether you are travelling as friends, a family or a couple, Paradise Palms is able to accommodate everyone.

Enjoy a cocktail or two at the bar while you look out to the peaceful and private beach the property has claimed. Don't forget to bring sun protection because you will be swimming and lounging by the glorious pool for hours.

Please note almost everything is CC and the items were not created by me! Please let me know if anything is missing, there were a lot of cc items! Dine out (Chef station, waiter station and host station) Spa Day (sauna and massage chairs), required for function.

Please do support and directly download from all the creators mentioned! I have attached the CC folders too for convenience. I have decided to share the folders via Google drive for ease of access so please let me know if you have any tips or questions xx

Do check out my Tiktok, live almost everyday building!

INSTRUCTIONS

Please directly move all the files in CC zip folder to your Mods folder.

Please move Tray files (Tray files folder) to your Tray folder (enable bb.moveobjects on).

Gallery ID- SimmerVlogs (Enable CC)

TikTok- simmervlogs

Note- I have placed this down in Sulani- 50x50 lot

Thank you once again to all CC creators!

EDIT

I see some people having issues with some of the windows, pelase download them seperately if it causes you issues

Jade collection by Taurus Designs

Seamless collection by Peacemaker

Aurore set by SYB

DOWNLOAD (Patreon)

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ot3 · 11 months

Note

I recently played the trilogy and haven't made it to the forth game yet (I don't know if I should because no Maya and I feel bad for him for losing his badge), could you please tell me what happens with Phoenix and alcoholism? (only if you feel like it)

definitely at least give aa4 a chance! its not for everyone but imo its got a ton of merit

gonna try and make this shortish because im not feeling super hot today and also because ive already said a lot of this. but essentially in AA4 there are bottles of what very heavily looks like wine but in both the english and japanese are referred to as bottles of grape juice

In AA4, stuff is pretty rough for phoenix. he's not in a great place, and he works odd hours at a russian bar/restaurant where he plays piano and poker. So he's regularly in a location where frequent exposure to alcohol is par for the course. Later on, in the game's second case, there's this interaction that occurs in the hospital when you investigate this bottle in his room.

Now, whether or not the game has any evidence for phoenix being an alcohol depends entirely on whether or not you interpret grape juice as being euphemistic for actual wine, or just a sight gag. I'm not sure how much the inclusion of alcohol boosts a game's rating.

i will say that none of the ace attorney games were M-rated until dual destinies. So it's entirely possible that they just called it 'grape juice' to avoid any sort of concern over that. however, i do remember reading that shu takumi's favorite drink is grape juice, which is why he wrote that in there, although I can't find the source for that now that i'm looking for it so take it with a grain of salt. I do think it is entirely plausible within the tone of ace attorney's humor that 'grape juice bottles that look exactly like wine and are just juice' is a gag they'd go for.

but the truth is, i kind of don't consider this debate relevant at all? you don't have to take the extreme of either interpretation. it is entirely possible that phoenix is a character with a fondness for grape juice who also struggles with alcohol. Maybe phoenix drinks wine when he's at the club and juice when he's at home.

It's a matter of public information that shu takumi drank pretty heavily while working on these games, including at the office if he worked nights or weekends, and it's also been well established that takumi based phoenix a lot on himself. so i think interpreting phoenix as a character with an addiction problem has a lot of merit. On the other hand, I do understand that that's not how some people view him, and that's totally fine. My big problem comes in when people try to act like it is impossible, ludicrous, or somehow harmful to the character's integrity to portray him as an addict.

I think when people try and 'disprove' the headcanon it's always a pretty shitty thing to do, given shu takumi's history. why can you enjoy something written by someone w/ alcohol issues but you draw the line at any of that making its way into the story, even euphemistically? yknow?

#ace attorney #worth noting in aai there is also some Grape Juice in turnabout airlines that is Very Clearly Wine as well #but that game came out after aa4 and was also not written by shu takumi so it might just be an aa4 callback

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writing-the-stars · 1 year

Note

Would love to read more of the Forgotten series about elijah and reader!

Short-Staffed

Part 1

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A continuation of Forgotten. A surprise visitor at work continues to amaze you

Warnings: Rude Customer, Elijah (in the best way), A Bit of Damsel in Distress, Slight Hero Worship. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: The long-awaited sequel is here!!! Thank you all so much for your comments on part one. I LOVED LOVED LOVED the unexpected enthusiasm for a continuation. You guys make me so happy!!! Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to leave a comment or ask! If you have any ideas for a third part, let me know! I hope you have a wonderful day <3

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

"Elijah?" you call, surprised and a little confused to see your impromptu shoulder-to-cry-on walking through the entranceway. You are transfixed by his presence– his opulent aura juxtaposing with the casual atmosphere of the restaurant making him appear more resplendent than before. "What are you doing here?" you question the Original– a small smile edging your lips. Despite your initial astonishment, you are thrilled to see your newfound confidant again– and sooner than you had anticipated. You had not stopped thinking about Elijah since the two of you parted ways. His compassion toward you lingered in your mind, warming you every time you brought the memory to life. It baffled you that someone– a stranger no less– could treat you so tenderly.

“Well, if it’s alright with you Y/N, I came here for lunch,” the Mikaelson replies– a knowing smirk characterizing his face. In truth, Elijah had only come to see you again. As with you with him, the thought of you was never far from his mind. You, inadvertently, left an impression on the thousand-year-old vampire, igniting primal instincts within him to protect and nurture you. You had experienced so much in your young life, forcibly maturing quicker than your peers as you had to parent yourself– essentially losing, not only your family of origin, but your chosen family as well. That would be the extent of your suffering as far as Elijah is concerned.

All of this remains unknown to you as the palm of your hand connects to your forehead, cursing yourself for how idiotic you must sound to him. Although being a popular spot to eat in town, the Mystic Grill was a place you never deemed would attract the handsome brunet. Even standing here now, Elijah seems so out of place in the unceremonious environment of the bar.

"Right, sorry," you apologize for your momentary folly, shaking your head at your sheer embarrassment, "Of course, it’s alright for you to eat here."

Gesturing toward the table you were about to bus before the Mikaelson stole your attention, you inform him of your order of task, “I have to clear this table, but I will be with you in a moment. Please sit anywhere you like.”

“Take your time. I’m in no rush.”

Elijah glides to a table not too distant from the one you’re hovering over now, leaving you dumbfounded by the fluidity of his movement. It seemed unnatural for someone, especially of Elijah’s build and stature, to move so artistically, and yet so befitting of the Mikaelson’s anomalous nature.

As you watch the brunet shift in his seat, taking a more passive position, you realize how long you have been goggling the man– a blush beginning to paint the surface of your cheeks. That knowing grin returns to the Original’s face as he, too, was aware of your lingering gaze, watching you from the corner of his eye as he pretended to fix the lapel of his suit. An odd sensation of giddiness stirred in the vampire at the notion you might be as enthralled by him as he is with you.

Forcing your attention back to the table you were meant to be bussing, a discontented sigh vacates your lungs at the mess left behind by the rowdy group of kids who had left moments ago. The beginning formation of a sticky puddle, sourced from a knocked-over glass, builds under the table and a wad of gum sits thrust into the wood of the table. A groan. Typically, you missed this crowd as you work mornings on the weekend, but the Grill was short-staffed today and Roberta asked for you to come in. If you weren’t in need of the extra money, you would have made her find someone else.

As is familiar for the Mikaelson, Elijah watches you from his distant position, amused by the little expressions of distaste you make as you wipe down the table and begin collecting the plates and cups. He enjoys it when your streak of vivacity emerges, appealing to him from the moment he first saw you. Elijah’s musing is broken as both of your attentions are grabbed by an “Excuse me, waitress.”

There is a lurking hostility in the waiting customer’s voice that calls to the darker part of Elijah, begging the man to so much as raise a finger towards you so that he may satisfy his sanguinary urge. “I have been sitting here for the past ten minutes waiting to order,” the customer, who arrived mere moments ago, hyperbolizes– a prominent disdain for you as he leers from his seat.

Edges of plastic dig into your palms as your grip on the bin in your hand tightens. This was bound to be unpleasant. A well-practiced, manicured smile dons your lips as you kindly inform the man that the restaurant is short-staffed and you must finish clearing the table before you can serve him. Stealing his opportunity to deliver a response, you promptly turn on your heels, transporting the grimy dishes into the kitchen.

The man was arrogant– the contempt in his voice as he addressed you was enough of an indicator. The look of offense that washed over his face at your refusal to immediately stop your task to cater to his needs was further proof of his self-aggrandizement. It set Elijah on edge– fingers twitching, eager to teach the supercilious man a lesson in humility. He despised a man who lacked manners, especially when addressing a lady, but even more so now with you. The vulgar comment he made about you as you strode toward the kitchen had the vampire itching to tear out the cocky bastard’s throat. But with you so nearby, Elijah knew that was not the wisest decision, so he resolved to maintain his stoic composure– hands fisted under the table.

You returned from the kitchen– mop in hand– braving yourself to deal with your irate customer. “Do you know how to do your job?” he condescendingly inquires, rising in his seat. “I am the customer. You are the servant. I call you over and you serve me. Do you understand that?” he continues to patronize you, overly emphasizing the words as if speaking to a child. You tongue your cheek, biting back the combative words dancing on the tip of your tongue. You were in critical need of this job, you could not afford to engage in a verbal altercation with this man.

“Yes, sir. I understand that, but as I explained before, there is a very limited number of us working today and things are a little delayed. So I ask that you please give me a moment to finish cleaning this table.”

Your face pulls into a tight-lipped smile. You were not going to cower to this man’s illusion of superiority.

“Look here, little girl-” he begins his tirade, rising from the table, but a firm, intervening grasp on his shoulder swiftly silences him. The Original was simply unable to tolerate the man’s berating any longer.

“Now I believe the lady has asked you twice to show a bit of patience, let’s not make it a third time, hm,” Elijah speaks calmly– chills running down your spine at the prominent threat in his tone. He stares the man down, all the tenderness he used with you entirely forgotten.

“You will sit here patiently as Y/N finishes her task and you will not speak to her again until she is ready to take your order. You will speak to her with the respect she deserves and when you are done, you will tip her handsomely and never bother her again.”

Much to your astonishment, the man complies, slowly sinking back into his seat. You stare at Elijah, amazed at his power. The man’s whole demeanor has shifted.

“Now, I do believe you owe her an apology.”

Without hesitation, he turns to you, apologizing for his impertinent behavior. You marvel at the difference Elijah’s words have made– the previous hostile arrogance exchanged for docile obedience.

Once more, the Original has left you in awe of him. He has shown remarkable kindness and nobility towards you, yet again coming to your aid and knowing just how to remedy your situation. It was as if he were your own personal knight in shining armor– the hero to save you from all of your problems. He is a man too good to be true. You knew you would never again meet a man like Elijah.

Briefly, you accept the customer’s apology before turning your gratitude towards your paragon. All the while, the man sits patiently, and, as you finish mopping the spill under the table, not an utterance is made. Elijah truly is a miracle.

“I am so sorry about that,” you apologize to the Mikaelson once you arrive at his table– ready to take his order.

“Why are you apologizing?” the Original frowns. You ponder his question, realizing you don’t have a reason. Apologizing just felt like the polite thing to do.

“I guess you’re right,” you smile at the vampire– his heart warming at the sight, finding you absolutely angelic.

“So, what can I get for you?”

“What do you recommend?”

The question leaves you speechless. Your opinion was hardly ever asked for– people dismissing your input or making decisions for you. Although small, it meant a lot to know Elijah valued your thoughts, even if it was just about what he should eat.

“Well, it’s not really on the menu, so if I tell you, you have to promise to keep it a secret,” you inform the Original– voice lowered to ensure no listening ears can hear.

“I give you my word.”

You describe your secret menu item to the brunet, detailing all the flavors that make it spectacular. The Mikaelson watches, a smile resting on his lips, adoring the way you light up as you speak. He finds himself easily captivated by you– the delightful lilt of your voice quite soothing to the vampire. You enrapture him as he observes you animatedly discuss your favorite dish. You are passionate about the things you care about– big or small– he is coming to discover and it made him want to care too. To have the same ardent fever you have, to feel alive once again.

“I’ll try it,” the Original informs you once you finish your explanation, much to your delight. You gleefully run off to the kitchen to have is order prepared, calling over your shoulder, “You won’t regret it.”

Elijah smiles to himself as he watches you disappear behind the steel double doors already knowing he wouldn’t because he could never regret anything that brought you such joy.

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yoongiseesawmp3 · 1 year

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paradigm pt2 - seonghwa (m)

summary: is having sex with your coworker really a bad idea? no, right? because seonghwa is quite honestly perfect. perfect, but annoying. a teasing day at work leads to a long night, and a conversation the next day. time to play by seonghwa’s rules.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut!!!!! dom!seonghwa (still a little switchy? kinda?), afab reader, tying up/ropes, edging/orgasm control, protected sex, oral (f receiving), not proofread sorry!

part one / masterlist

your shifts with seonghwa before you slept together were usually pretty fun. more bearable than a normal shift, that’s for sure. but now you’re practically counting down the time until you get to leave. you��re even spending more time in the kitchen, claiming you’re doing inventory on bar essentials so you don’t have to be out there in such close quarters with seonghwa.

why?

because seonghwa has become insufferable.

before you fucked his brains out, he was flirtatious, sure. you’d noticed how his eyes would sweep over you before responding, or how he’d daintily touch your waist as he passed behind you so as to not bump you into the bar. he’d say cheeky things, he’d tease you, but it was all playful coworker stuff. now? now he’s more determined. pointed. almost like he’s trying to prove something to you. it’s like you showed him what you were capable of back at your apartment, and now he’s trying to show you just how bold he can be in return.

today, you’re taking extra time in the kitchen finding all the produce you need to restock the bar while seonghwa is out there unlocking all the good liquor and dusting bottles off before customers start coming in. you’ve even convinced wooyoung to make a fresh batch of sour mix for you, claiming that making the base syrup from scratch will help the drinks taste better. wooyoung did it, even though he knows the restaurant has a stock of sour mix that could last a year if necessary, but he won’t pass up on the opportunity to have a friend with him in the back for a little longer.

“is seonghwa here yet?” wooyoung asks you as you dump a container of lemons on the worktop next to him. “make him come back here and juice those for me.”

“i can do it,” you say, looking for a cutting board, but wooyoung tsking stops you.

“no, i really want him back here so i can see the sexual tension between you two for myself,” he teases, and you roll your eyes.

“fuck you.”

“that’s hwa’s job.”

“what’s my job?” seonghwa’s deep voice asks from a few feet behind you. he must have just walked in. “please tell me i don’t have to juice lemons, i can already tell y/n’s gonna ‘delegate’ cutting them up to me.”

“uh, i was gonna do it,” you say defensively. seonghwa eyes you like he doesn’t believe it, but he lets you continue. “we were talking about you bothering me.”

“doesn’t wooyoung do that more than i do?”

“hey!”

“no,” you say, coming to his defense. “woo’s actually been helping me a lot lately.”

“so that’s why you spend so much of your shifts back here then?” seonghwa asks, quirking an eyebrow at you in a challenge. oh, so he’s noticed. “that’s why i’m back here. boss wants you up front, actually. said you need to reorder more white but wants to talk to you about what you put on the order form.”

“yeah, he’s gonna tell me we can’t get the snoop dogg wine,” you sigh as you lay out everything for the lemons. “i’ll go talk to him. but hwa, that means you do have to juice the lemons for me,” you say sweetly, clasping your hands in front of you and fluttering your lashes at him. to your surprise, he doesn’t put up a fight and blushes while politely pushing you out of the way so he can get to work. with that, you leave them both in the kitchen and practice what you’re gonna say to your boss when he asks why you made such ridiculous wine choices.

while you’re up front fighting for the celebrity wine collection of your dreams, seonghwa and wooyoung work in silence. wooyoung keeps eyeing seonghwa though, like he’s waiting for him to say something. finally, wooyoung’s attention span gets the better of him and he lowers the burner before turning to face hwa directly. seonghwa looks up questioningly, but goes back to work when wooyoung doesn’t say something immediately.

“oh come ON,” wooyoung whines, practically falling into seonghwa’s side. “tell me what happened between you two.”

“that’s none of your business.”

“please?”

“no.”

“pretty please?”

“no, leave me alone.”

“fine,” wooyoung sighs, turning back to his work. “if nothing happened between you then i guess you won’t mind me asking y/n out for drinks after work tonight?”

“that’s fine,” seonghwa says, clearing his throat. he finishes juicing the last lemon and takes the carcasses over to the trash. while he wipes his hands, he tells wooyoung, “if y/n comes back here can you tell her to check the walk in for me? i thought we had more of those nasty ipas but i can’t find any.”

“why don’t you do it?” wooyoung asks suspiciously.

“i’m going to the bathroom,” seonghwa says simply. wooyoung nods like he doesn’t believe him, but he stays in place stirring the syrup so it doesn’t crystalize. he’s busy fishing a seed out of the fresh lemon juice when you come back to the kitchen.

“where’d seonghwa go?” you ask, and wooyoung points a finger to the back of the room.

“he’s waiting for you in the walk in,” he replies. you start to ask questions, but wooyoung cuts you off. “hey, i don’t know. just go back there and see what he wants. and don’t embarrass me in front of the food, i have to serve that later.”

unsure, you go back to the cooler wondering what seonghwa could want. you don’t get too deep into thought though, because you open the door and suddenly seonghwa is carefully grabbing you by the neck and pulling you in for a kiss. the door to the cooler closes behind you, shrouding you both in darkness save for the pathetic lightbulb on a string above you. in the shadows, seonghwa’s features are sharpened so much that when he pulls back it almost takes your breath away to see how chiseled he looks like this. he smirks at the look in your eyes, licking his lips before diving back in, this time holding you in place by the hips so you can’t escape. his tongue teases your lips, and the second you part them to let him in he detaches from you completely. breathless, you look at him confused while he speaks.

“if wooyoung asks you out tonight, say no,” he tells you, and then he’s gone, leaving you alone, skin burning despite the cold air around you.

the rest of your shift with seonghwa was odd, to say the least. you had to finish up with the accoutrement you had in the kitchen, and despite wooyoung’s pestering you didn’t tell him what was going on. he also didn’t ask you out, so you’re not sure why seonghwa mentioned that in the walk in. you’re also trying to figure out what happened in there, but if you think about it too long you start remembering the warmth of his lips and that’s a dangerous place for you to go.

it’s even more dangerous when you head back out to the bar, containers of lemon and lime slices in one arm and your jug of fresh sour mix in the other. seonghwa sees you totally not struggling and he rushes over to help, placing a hand on your waist as he reaches for one of the containers.

“i got it,” you say defensively, and he kind of backs off but watches you with an unreadable look in his eyes. he lets you do your thing, managing to place everything into the proper wells in the bar without dropping anything despite your awkward form.

“you heard about the company party coming in today?” seonghwa decides to ask, continuing to watch you as he speaks. “we’ll be closed until dinner for the private party, so should be an easy shift.”

“sounds good,” you say tightlipped. “did he say when they’re coming in?”

“soon.”

“great, thanks, so helpful.”

“what’s wrong with you?” he asks with a playful smile. “cat got your tongue?”

“so you’re a cat now?” you quip back, and seonghwa cracks a genuine smile.

“no?” he says after thinking for a moment. “i’m just me.”

“shame,” you sigh. “i’ve been thinking about getting a kitten.” you brush past seonghwa, cringing but satisfied with the stunned look he’s giving you in return. you go about your business, making sure everything is where you like it to be before your boss starts coming around to say the company party should be arriving soon. you and seonghwa fall into a rhythm as things pick up, and you don’t have time to think about the weird energy between you. you try your best to ignore the way you catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye, or how he delicately holds your waist as he passes behind you during the rush. you could be imagining it, but it seems like every time his hands find your waist they’re holding you tighter and tighter, closer and closer to seonghwa. the last time he does it you swear he slides his fingertips under your shirt to just barely graze your skin, but it could’ve been an accident. still, you keep working.

after the initial rush, you’ve got a minute to rest and seonghwa says he’s slipping away to bring some more beer from the walk in. you let him leave, and step off to the side to make yourself a cup of water. as you’re sipping and absentmindedly picking at a string on your shirt, you miss the man walking up to the bar in front of you.

“drinking on the job?” he asks, wearing the sleaziest smirk you’ve ever seen. “didn’t peg you for a bad girl.”

“what can i get for you?” you divert, ignoring his comment and the greasy way he’s staring at you.

“what do you recommend?” he asks as he starts getting too comfortable at the stool in front of you.

“something simple?” you offer, wanting to get him away as quickly as possible. “how about an old fashioned?”

“i like the way you think,” he replies with a nod and a smile. you get to work on the drink and don’t notice the way he watches you while you make it. as you’re looking for the cherries, seonghwa comes back from the kitchen with enough beer in tow to fill the fridge by your feet. he notices the guy immediately and doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t engage and just kneels by you so he can restock. he knocks into you on “accident” and you look down to see him glancing up at you with a questioning look in his eyes. he nods toward the bar and you know he’s asking about the guy, so you just shrug and finish the drink. you turn, ready to get rid of your admirer, and seonghwa listens on discreetly.

“hope you enjoy the party, you’re all good to go,” you say quickly, placing a napkin down before slamming the drink in front of him.

“i don’t know, i think i might just make my place right here,” he replies, taking a healthy gulp of the drink. “i’m gonna need a lot more of these, sweet thing, so you better get used to me.”

“she said you’re good to go,” seonghwa chimes in, standing up. “enjoy the drink man.”

“you her bodyguard or something?”

“no, but it looks like your party is getting started so i’d recommend you head back over there big guy,” seonghwa says very calmly, and you’re a little startled at the silent rage you can feel radiating off of him. you watch as the man stares seonghwa down, but he holds his ground and the man just downs his drink and walks away. seonghwa looks to the side, catching your eye.

“my knight in shining armor,” you sigh, putting your hand on his arm. you can feel the muscle flexing under his sleeve, and you have to keep yourself from squeezing it to admire how strong he is. you just let him go instead, but as you try to step away he softly grabs your wrist. you look down at where you’re connected, and back up to his eyes boring into you. he uses his hold on you to pull you a little closer, and his lips just barely graze your ear as he speaks.

“after shift. my apartment.”

and then he’s gone, detached from your side and suddenly very interested in wiping down the bar. you try to catch his eye, to find him staring at you cheekily again, but now it’s like you don’t even exist. you decide to let him play whatever game he thinks he’s playing, but you’re gonna do your best to play along. what’s wooyoung doing on his break, you wonder?

since it’s a little slow right now, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. seonghwa watches you intently as you walk away, but he doesn’t think anything of it. he surely doesn’t assume that you’re about to go find wooyoung and ask him about that date. it isn’t until he realizes you’ve been gone much longer than a bathroom break that seonghwa starts to worry, so he shoots you a quick text, telling you it’s picking up again and he needs you up front, which isn’t wrong. you respond with a quick ‘k’ and then you’re emerging from the kitchen, a cheeky smile gracing your lips that you’re failing to hide.

“what took you so long?” seonghwa grumbles as you pass behind him and you shrug.

“just needed a break after talking to mr. greasebag,” you reply. “thanks for getting rid of him by the way.”

“don’t mention it,” seonghwa brushes it off. “he was bothering me too.”

“really?” you ask, surprised. “how?”

“i don’t like seeing you upset,” he says, and then a customer pulls him away, leaving you unsure of how to take that sweet sentiment.

your shift carries on, a steady stream of people coming up to the bar so that you’re not overwhelmed but you don’t get another still moment until the party is almost over. you’re actually thrilled you won’t be working the dinner shift after this, because now you’re exhausted. you and seonghwa go about resetting the bar for the next bartenders, and you smile when you see wooyoung emerge from the kitchen.

“what are you doing up here?” seonghwa asks.

“aw, not happy to see me?” wooyoung pouts, and you can’t help but giggle at the way seonghwa glares back at him. “don’t need you though, i’m here for y/n.”

“yeah, just gimme a sec,” you tell him, and he nods before leaning against the bar to watch you work. you start to pass by seonghwa to clean the mats in your hands, but a firm grip on your arm stops you cold.

“i thought i said to tell him no,” he all but growls in your ear, and you can’t contain your smirk as you reply.

“yeah, but there were no rules for what to do if i asked him out,” you say simply, and you turn around to get back to work, leaving seonghwa steaming behind you. he goes back to work, watching as wooyoung leans over the bar to giggle about something with you. when he sits back down, seonghwa joins you at the sink, politely gesturing for the spray nozzle so he can get the gross bits out of the container in his hand. you let him have space next to you, and he starts rinsing out the bin but angles it just so and sprays water all over you.

“oops,” he frowns, glancing over your soaking shirt. “shame.”

“seonghwa? what the fuck?!” you shriek. “i can’t go out like this!”

“what’d you do man?” wooyoung asks from behind you, but he’s out of both your minds by now.

“cmon, i have an extra shirt in my locker,” seonghwa says as he guides you by the hip. he looks over to wooyoung and says, “she’ll go out with you another night kid.”

“i could help her-”

“wooyoung,” you hiss, looking at him and trying to send a signal that the plan worked. he looks confused for a second, then it clicks. you wanted to rile seonghwa up the whole time, and that’s obviously worked, so wooyoung’s job here is done. he watches on proudly as seonghwa leads you to the back, and once he has you by the lockers you shrug him off.

“ah, don’t be a baby,” seonghwa chides. “you set this up.”

“did not.”

“did too!”

“whatever,” you sigh while seonghwa shuffles in his locker. “just give me your shirt so i can go home. i need to wash this shit off me now.”

“no?” seonghwa says, standing as he hands you the shirt. he leans in closer to you as he speaks. “did you forget? you’re coming with me, kitten. now go change so we can leave without your nipples saying hi to everyone in the restaurant.”

the ride to seonghwa’s apartment was tense, mostly because he was trying to act like he’s not currently taking you home to rock your shit while that’s all you can think about. seonghwa was asking you about this new album by an artist you like, then he told you about a restaurant he tried that just opened by his house. meanwhile, you’re carefully watching the way his hand grips the steering wheel, or trying hard not to notice how nice his thighs look as he drives.

“stop doing that,” seonghwa finally says, and your eyes snap to his face, your cheeks warm knowing that you got caught staring.

“stop doing what?”

“looking at me like you wanna fuck me.”

“but i do, that’s why i’m here.”

“yeah, but stop doing it,” he says sternly. “at least while i’m driving. it’s distracting. makes me wanna pull over and have my way with you right here.”

“i’m not opposed,” you start to say, and seonghwa’s hand falls to your thigh, giving it a warning squeeze.

“no,” he replies. “behave, it’s just a few more minutes.”

“you’re mean,” you mumble, slumping further into your seat.

“you like it,” he says with a smirk, and that finally shuts you up. seonghwa’s smile grows but he tries to hide it as he takes the turn for his street. you’ve never been to his place before, but just from friendly talk at work you always knew he lived on this side of town. it’s nice, you think. very clean cut neighborhood, a modern looking building that seonghwa stops in front of. it’s all very him, sleek and strong and nice to look at. the feeling of seonghwa’s hand leaving your thigh pulls you from your thoughts, and then he’s coming around to your side of the car to help you out. he keeps an arm around you as you walk into the building, on the elevator, and down the hall to his apartment. once the door’s open and he welcomes you inside, you’re met with a sight and a scent that reminds you of home. it envelopes you at the door and you take a deep breath, letting it out in a yelp when seonghwa surprises you with a kiss to your neck. “what are you doing?” he asks, continuing to kiss along your skin.

“smells nice in here,” you hum, “just admiring that i’m about to sleep with a guy that knows how to keep a clean apartment.”

“y/n please tell me you don’t usually fuck losers with stinky houses,” he says, pulling back from you slightly.

“don’t say it like that,” you laugh, turning to look at him. he lets his arms drape around your waist, caging you against him. you rest your hands on his chest as you continue. “you know how hard it’s been for me to find a man.”

“good thing i’m right here,” he says with a smug smile, and you have to ignore the weird way your heart jumps at his words.

“so,” you say as you play with a spot on his shirt.

“so.”

“what are your rules?”

“hm,” he thinks for a moment. “go lay down on the bed, shirt off.”

“dang, you’re copying me now?” you tease, and a quick pinch to your ass sets you in motion. you pull back from seonghwa and ask, “where’s your room, boss man?”

“on the left,” he replies. “get comfortable.”

you take your time walking to his room, waiting until you’ve disappeared down the hall to pull your (seonghwa’s) shirt off and drop it on the floor outside what you assume is his room. you walk inside and that’s immediately confirmed by the clean bed, the tidy shelves with all of his collectibles you’ve heard about, and the smell. it smells like seonghwa, and you wander around the room, taking it in but also looking for the source of the sweet, fresh scent that follows him everywhere. you find some lotion and sprays over by his closet, and you’re caught snooping when seonghwa appears in the doorway. you hear him scoff, and you look up with his lotion in your hand.

“is this what you’ve been using lately?” you ask, and he nods.

“ok, i know i told you to get comfortable, but this isn’t what i meant,” he chuckles, sauntering over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “at least you took your shirt off, you can sort of follow directions.”

“i’m working on it,” you assure him, and he pulls you closer to his body roughly. you can feel the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass, and you take in a breath at the touch.

“since you can’t do what i ask the first time, i’m changing my rules a little bit,” he whispers gravely into your ear. “lay down on the bed. now.” you do as he says, skin warming at the dark way seonghwa’s staring at you. you can tell something in him has changed, and you’re excited to see this side of him. he slowly takes his shirt off before joining you, climbing over you until his arms are beside your head and his bulge is level with your core. he quickly traps your lips in a kiss, one of his hands carding through your hair to clear it from your face completely. you easily fall into a rhythm, brushing your hands over his cheeks to cup his face above you as he explores your mouth. kissing him is nice, his lips are so soft and he’s so ready to devour you. you haven’t felt wanted like this in a long time, but the more you’re with seonghwa the more confident you feel.

“hey,” you say when he pulls away to take a breath. “you’re good at that.”

“what, making out?” he smiles, and you nod. you kiss him again, but he pulls away again. “i like when you tell me what i’m good at. say more stuff.”

“you’re good at driving me insane,” you start off.

“really? good or bad thing?”

“yes,” you reply, and he buries his face in your neck as laughs. “i like it though. like today at work, you were driving me crazy. but honestly? since you kissed me in the cooler i’ve been all tingly. you’re good at that too, making me feel things i’ve never felt before.” seonghwa places one last kiss on your lips before sitting up.

“ok, speaking of,” he starts. “i want to try something. i’ve done it before but i’m not sure if you have, and if you don’t like it, just tell me, i’ll stop, it won’t bother me-”

“hwa,” you cut him off. “just say it, i trust you.”

“can i tie you up?” he asks finally. “keep you from touching what’s not yours.”

“yeah, you can,” you whisper, your heartbeat picking up at the thought. seonghwa pecks you softly before getting up, heading to his closet to grab something from the top shelf. his hand emerges with silk restraints, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

“need you naked first,” he says, and you wait for him to make another move, but he just stays watching you. “y/n?” he asks darkly, “said i need you naked. are you that bad at doing what i say?”

“no,” you reply shyly, making quick work of your pants and the final few garments left on your body. when you take your panties off you gasp, feeling the cool air hit your pussy. it’s so wet that seonghwa can see it glistening from where he stands, and you watch as he literally licks his lips while he checks you out. once you’re fully undressed, you sit with your hands in your lap, waiting for seonghwa to tell you what to do next.

“can i tie your arms together?” he asks, and you nod. “what about your legs? can i tie them to the bed, or is that too much?”

“you’re kinky,” you say with an excited smile, and seonghwa blushes. “do whatever you want with me, if it’s too much i’ll tell you.”

“ok,” he says sweetly, and then he gets to work. he helps you lay down, starting with your arms. “hold them out for me, wrists together.” you do as he says, and he coos, “good girl.” he starts by wrapping the silk around your wrists a few times, checking the tightness before he moves to attach the silk to his headboard. once everything is secure, he kisses down your arms, over your shoulder, across your collarbone. he stops right below your chin to suck a love bite onto your skin, pulling away with your skin still trapped between his teeth. you mewl at the feeling, and he kisses further down your body, kissing down the valley of your chest and further down to your core. he ignores where you need him most, instead kissing down the inside of your thighs. he sits up again, pulling more silk from the end of the bed. “spread your legs for me,” he instructs, and you do as he says. he takes your right ankle in his hand, carefully wrapping it like he did with your wrists. he gets off the bed then, taking care to tie your restraint to the bed frame. he crosses the bed and does the same with your left leg, tugging just slightly to get you to open up for him more. once he’s satisfied with his work, he steps back and admires you all splayed out for him. he’s standing there too long for your liking, so you squirm, and he tsks. “can’t be patient? i’m enjoying the view.”

“it’s better up close,” you tell him. “promise.”

“is it?” he asks, and you nod as he climbs back onto the bed. he stops at your core, staring up at you from between your legs. you’re watching his every move, and with his eyes locked onto yours, he blows directly on your cunt, causing you to squirm again, but the ties hold you in place. you whimper, and seonghwa smiles like the devil himself. “what’s wrong?” he asks in mock concern, and you whine again. “use your words.”

“eat me out,” you beg.

“that’s all you wanted?” he asks, and you nod frantically. “don’t come until i tell you to,” he warns, and then he’s diving in. he latches onto your clit, sucking on it harshly and making you cry out. he licks down to your entrance, groaning at the taste, and he slips his tongue in to gather more of your arousal. he pulls back, licking his lips before he says, “how have i gone this long without tasting your pussy? it’s divine.”

“divine?” you laugh, but seonghwa’s tongue back on your clit quiets the rest of your smart remark.

“you’re cocky for someone tied up and at my mercy right now,” he says into your cunt, and the vibration sends a jolt through your core. “mm, i love how you react to me.”

“and how is that?”

“like no one’s touched you like this before,” he says before he spreads your lips and finds your entrance again. he loves the taste of you, alternating between playing with your hole and kitten licking your bundle of nerves. soon you can feel the coil tightening in your stomach, and before you know it, seonghwa’s pulling back from you completely.

“what, i-”

“i said you can’t come until i say,” he reminds you, and you let out a pathetic sound. “don’t whine, it’ll feel better in the end. are you still good though?”

“i’d be better if you let me come-”

“you talk too much,” he shakes his head, kneeling between your legs as he finishes undressing himself. he stands at the foot of the bed to kick his pants and his boxers off, stroking himself as he admires you before him, chest rising and falling rapidly and core dripping in the most sinful way possible. he walks to the side of the bed, cock still in his hand, and when he reaches your head he simply says, “suck.”

you turn to the side and open your mouth, welcoming him in as seonghwa leans against the bed to bury his cock down your throat. he groans at the familiar warmth, and you didn’t realize how badly you wanted this too. you try your best to bob on his cock, but all you can really do is hollow your cheeks and let seonghwa fuck your throat. you do your best to watch him above you, core clenching at the way he’s falling apart. he looks down and catches your eye, and he gets an idea. he leans down over you so that his hand can reach your clit, and he starts rubbing harsh circles over it as you work on his cock.

“keep your eyes on me,” he says, and you try to look up at him as best you can. “there she is. need to know when you’re close, keep watching me baby.” you moan at his words, jaw falling slack as his speed picks up on your clit. he slips out of your mouth, saliva and precum dribbling on your lips. his cock falls to your cheek, further making a mess of you, and seonghwa moans as he watches on in awe. he takes his free hand and uses it to guide his cock across your cheek, your tongue out to catch him, but he just makes a mess of you instead, his hand dipping down to your entrance to fuck two fingers into your core. “you look so good like this baby. i like it messy.”

“i’m,” you gasp, “i’m gonna come.” and then his hands are pulled from you completely, and he steps back from the bed altogether. you whine, arms tugging at your restraints to reach for him or to go to your core and finish what seonghwa started. he just chuckles at you struggling, reaching into his nightstand for a condom.

“i would ask you to put this on for me,” he says before tearing the package with his teeth, “but you’re a little tied up right now.”

“is that supposed to be funny,” you groan, mouth watering at the way seonghwa strokes himself before rolling the condom down his length. he finally lays on top of you again, and he kisses you deeply. your hands tug again, wishing you could run your hands through his hair, pull him closer, because he still feels so far away. you jolt in sensitivity feeling his cock at your entrance, and you let out a silent scream as he sheathes himself inside you.

“oh fuck baby,” he groans. “forgot how warm you are. shit.”

“you feel so good seonghwa. fit inside me so well.”

“like i was made for you,” he says, and you moan his name, causing a shiver to run down his spine. he slowly starts to build his pace, thrusting all the way out and all the way back in, but your restraints are so tight they hold you in place. seonghwa’s hand finds your clit again, and your legs start to go numb as he draws his name into your mound. you try to kick out, trying to tell him it’s too much, you can’t take it, but he’s always a step ahead of you, pulling out and leaving his hand on your waist as you gasp for air.

“please, seonghwa,” you beg, tears starting to form in your eyes. “i can’t take it, i need to come. please let me come, please. i’ll be so good, i promise.”

“you’ve done well,” he nods. “but you can take one more.”

“no i can’t!” you cry, and he shakes his head.

“you can and you will,” and then he’s reaching back down to your core, slapping against your clit and watching gleefully as you jerk with the contact. when he stops, he dips his fingers back to your core, easily sliding three digits in. he scissors you slowly, stretching you for his cock once more, and he pulls at that soft spot inside you just right. you’re crying out, so close to the edge, if he would just press a little harder-

and then he’s pulling back from you again, your entire body shaking, arms and legs thrashing against your ties. tears are streaming down your face and you look at seonghwa, dried spit and precum on your cheeks. he could come just at the sight of you, but he decides you’ve had enough and fucks into you again. his pace this time is relentless, close to his own release. he doesn’t bother with your clit this time, knowing by the way you’re helplessly begging please over and over again that you won’t need much to fall of the edge this time. he tugs your chin up, silently asking you to look at him, and you admire the sweat dripping down his forehead and the way he looks at you like you own the world. you smile slightly through your tears, and seonghwa squeezes your chin in his hand.

“please,” you whisper, voice teary and eyes blurry. you watch a soft smile take over seonghwa’s features briefly before that dark look returns to his eyes.

“come with me baby,” he says. “come with me, now, you can do it, keep watching me-” and then you’re crying out, pussy spasming over his cock as he buries his load in the condom. your entire body is shaking, hands and feet going numb at the sensation. seonghwa stops moving, but you’re jerking with the aftershock of your orgasm, and he stills on top of you to give you time to come down. you remember feeling him pull out of you, and you remember the soft kisses he placed to your forehead as he untied your limbs, but after that you just remember feeling warm and at peace as you drifted off to sleep.

when you wake up the next day, your first thought is that you’re home in your bed. but a slight shift in your posture tells you you’re not alone, seonghwa’s long limbs tangled with yours under his plush blanket. your face warms as you remember what you did last night, and then your chest warms as you feel seonghwa’s arms pull you closer into his chest.

“morning,” he grumbles into the back of your neck. “how’d you sleep?”

“fine,” you start. “but i feel like i’m wearing the world’s largest backpack right now.”

“hm, too bad,” he sighs, holding you even tighter. “‘m tired.”

“go back to sleep,” you tell him, reaching for the top of the comforter to peel it away from your body. seonghwa’s hand comes out quickly to stop you, softly trapping you in his embrace under the covers.

“if i go back to sleep then so do you,” he says. “i owe you breakfast, so you have to stay.”

“no you don’t-”

“don’t argue,” he says before yawning. he stills again, and you think he’s drifted off when he speaks again. “you’re not gonna go back to sleep are you?”

“no,” you laugh, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses your bare shoulder.

“fine,” he groans, untangling from you and laying on his back. you roll over to watch him, eyes following the way his muscles twist and contract as he sits up to stretch. “what do you want to eat?”

“french toast,” you reply immediately, and seonghwa smiles. “and coffee.”

“coffee i have, french toast i’ll have to order,” he says as he reaches for his phone.

“do you mind if i go make some then?” you ask, and he looks at you skeptically.

“you’re not trying to dip out on me are you?” he asks warily, and you smile.

“i’ll bring this with me to prove i’m coming back,” you say as you stand up, gripping the comforter around yourself to combat the cold of seonghwa’s apartment. “want me to turn the heat on?”

“please,” seonghwa begs. “my nipples are so hard they’re gonna freeze and fall off.”

“sexy,” you laugh as you look for some slippers or something to keep your feet warm before you leave. seonghwa watches on fondly while you shuffle around his room ridiculously. “so coffee?”

“i would tell you to make yourself at home but you’re good at doing that already,” he says. “everything you need is in the cabinet above the coffee maker, just yell if you need something.”

“gotcha,” you say as you slide yourself into the hallway, the comforter trailing behind you like a cape. seonghwa feels some type of way seeing you so comfortable in his space, using his things like your own. he tries to shake that feeling as he scrolls on his phone for the right restaurant.

meanwhile, you’re nosing around in his kitchen. you found the coffee easily enough, but you got bored as you waited for it to brew. you start looking around his kitchen, noting the kind of snacks he has, counting up all the things he’s stolen from the restaurant (he has more than you do, which is impressive). you find yourself staring at what’s on his fridge, a collection of magnets from places he must have visited mixed in with some silly pop culture ones. you notice a little calendar too, and you realize quickly it’s got his work schedule on it. no, you don’t have his schedule memorized, but you do remember how often you see him in a week, so. shut up. but as you’re looking, you notice something else. on the days that he’s marked as working, every once in a while there’s a little star drawn down in the corner too. you wonder what that could mean when you hear seonghwa clearing his throat behind you.

“food should be here in 30 minutes,” he says simply, an eyebrow quirked as he watches you back away from his fridge like you totally weren’t just reading his personal calendar. then you notice that he’s fully dressed, sweats and a comfy sweater, and a chill runs down your spine.

“hey, you took away my favorite view,” you pout, and he chuckles as he walks up to you, holding out a pile of clothes. “these aren’t mine.”

“i know,” he says. “you came in your uniform, remember? the one i soaked?”

“cheeky.”

“it’s in the wash right now,” he says, ignoring you and pushing the clothes into your hands. “go change into this so you’ll stop shivering, you can change into your uniform when you leave for work. it should be done by then.”

“you want me to stay all day?” you ask, your heart picking up speed as you take the clothes from hwa.

“well, i mean, we woke up pretty late,” he starts, hand flying to the back of his neck in embarrassment. “so it won’t be that long, i just, i figured that’s how long it would take for your uniform to dry. that’s all.”

“take a breath, hwa,” you laugh, and the blush on his cheeks deepens. “if i’m staying all day then i’m making you watch that show i told you about.”

“that’s fine,” he nods, and you start walking toward his room. “put my comforter back properly, please.”

“so bossy,” you call over your shoulder, and then you’re back in his room to change. the clothes he gave you are warm, did he toss them in the dryer? either way, you slide them on and then get to work making the bed. once you’re satisfied, or you at least think seonghwa would be satisfied, you head back to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. you find seonghwa leaning against the counter, and when he sees you dressed head to toe in his clothes he can’t help but smile. he’s been trying hard to figure out what it is that he feels for you, and the longer you stay here the more complicated his thoughts are getting.

“i didn’t know how you take your coffee,” seonghwa tells you, gesturing to the mug of coffee he poured for you. he’s got creamer and sugar out next to it, but you take the warm cup and take a sip before deciding what to add.

“do you have cinnamon?” you ask, and he thinks for a moment before he puts his mug down and turns to one of his cabinets. after messing around in there for a few seconds, he finds a measly container of cinnamon and passes it to you gently.

“can i say something?” he asks out of the blue, and you nod, encouraging him to continue as you stir your coffee. “you look hot in my clothes.”

“oh,” you cough, the sip you were in the middle of taking going down the wrong way. seonghwa rushes to your side, patting your back to help clear your throat. “thanks?”

“sorry if that was weird, i just-”

“what are we, seonghwa?” you ask, and he stops cold. “like, i don’t wanna go there, but i think we have to, right? i mean, you’ve been looking at me weird all morning, and i’ve been feeling things i don’t understand, and i know we like to fuck but...should it be more than that?”

“do you want it to be more than that?” he asks, and now you’re not sure what to say. “because, honestly, i’d be willing to try.”

“oh,” you squeak out. “al-alright.”

“alright?” he laughs. “that’s it? what do you want from this? no judgement, i swear.”

“what are those little stars for on your calendar?” you ask instead, and seonghwa’s face turns a precious shade of red.

“um, that’s for the days that we work together,” he answers, and you’re sure your face is so red it matches his now. “not sure why, but i look forward to those shifts for some reason.”

“hm, wonder why,” you say with a shy smile, sipping from your coffee to hide it. but seonghwa is still watching you, and you start again. “so you want to try...? try what exactly?”

“well, a lot of things,” he says suggestively, and you roll your eyes. “with you, obviously. but among them i think, maybe, a date?”

“that would be nice,” you agree, and seonghwa smiles proudly.

“noted,” he nods. “i’ll think of something nice.”

“can’t wait.”

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