#absolutely flowery chairs

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD sitting next to Josh O'Connor, Mike Faist and Leo Wu attends the Loewe Fashion Show.

(source)

#andrew garfield #josh o'connor #mike faist #leo wu #absolutely flowery chairs #👀 #beautiful guys #no but andrew garfield in red is so unreal #paris #loewe ss24 #loewe fashion show #fashion show #video #andrew peter #andrew peter parker #tasm peter #tasm peter parker #tasm #the amazing spider man #peter parker #spider man #sincericida

[keeksandgigz]

somewhere we can be alone

stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!fem!reader

a collab with @reidsbtch- mariah is literally the best person to collab with, it's like our brains were making out the whole time we were writing this. thank u for letting me collab with you to write this absolutely not self indulgent, way too long fic together <3

summary: Now on the tail end of graduating, Eddie Munson is required to take part in an extracurricular activity. He's assigned as stage manager for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet. You, the star of the show, aren't too happy to have your senior performance sabotaged by one long- haired metalhead.

word count: 7.7k words

warnings: no y/n, no physical description of reader, swearing, oral (m & f receiving), enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, mentions of queer!reader, it's actually just fucking smut, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), cream pie, use of nicknames (baby, sweets, sweetheart etc), eddie being a stupid lovable idiot

This and all of mine and mariah's works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

He’s been slumped in the guidance counselor’s office for thirty minutes, the wooden chair digging into his bones, growing uncomfortable as he listens to her, hardly believing he’s so close to leaving this fucking school himself.

“You’re keeping up your grades and maintaining regular attendance, Eddie. You’re just missing one last thing to be able to graduate.”

He rubs his face, maybe from the lack of sleep, or the restlessness of finally being able to leave the office he spent way too much time in during the past six years, as long as he keeps showing up to school for the next two months. He groans regardless.

“What would this ‘last thing’ be? Am I gonna be sent on a quest to slay a fucking dragon? Is that what’s gonna take me to graduate?” He snaps, the lack of sleep has finally gotten to him– school doesn’t really appeal to his late bird nature.

The counselor gasps at the crudeness of the profanity “Language!” She exclaims, like he’s never heard that before, daring to swear in front of students, staff and faculty alike, but the blonde lady with the ridiculously coiffed and teased and sprayed hair composes herself again, jutting a look down to his student folder again.

He imagines it to be full of red pen marks, every single one of those a proof of his own failure. He’ll steal it the day he graduates– and set it on fire. Hell, he’ll even roast marshmallows on it.

“Anyways,” she explains in a way that really shows the massive stick up her ass that makes her think Eddie should just stop bothering with school altogether. “You have to partake in an extracurricular activity.”

And he chortles. He was thinking something dreadful like picking trash up at the park or feeding and bathing the old people at the retirement home.

“Something funny, Mr. Munson?” Her nostrils are flared, she can’t wait ‘til he leaves her office.

“So like- like drama club and shit?” His tone is incredulous, he can deal with a couple lines to memorize. He’s had to do way worse for his Dungeon Master role, and even then, Miss George likes him– she’s let him and the club play DnD in her room for the past two years. Should be easy.

The counselor takes her glasses off her pointy nose, letting them hang with a tacky pink, flowery chain around her neck. “Well, yes– that’s one of the options. Unfortunately, your GPA is not high enough for you to partake in the school play, per se, so I can only place you in the backstage crew– building sets and moving things around. We’ll put that brain of yours to work.” She chuckles as she hands him a slip of paper to give to Miss George.

Eddie picks up his bag, “Real funny, huh.” He shrugs his shoulders and heads to the school auditorium. Last time he was there he’d gotten caught by a custodian while Terry Richardson’s face was stuck in between his legs, trousers pulled down halfway down his thighs as she gave him a toothy blowjob. He got suspended for a week.

He sees Miss George sat in the audience, scribbling notes onto a notepad as you recite the famous balcony monologue from Romeo and Juliet. He knows you, he’s seen you around– you’re by no means in the popular crowd, but you stand out, in the way that your clothes always seem to border the fine line of what's socially acceptable and outrageously eccentric.

Even if you’re not part of the popular crowd, there’s no denying that, like the rest of the school, you avoid him like the plague, cute as he is. You interrupt your monologue as you see him smirk down the central aisle of chairs. Miss George turns around at the sudden interruption. Eddie just hands her the slip.

“Oh my goodness!” she coos, “We have a stage manager.” And he wishes he could have photographed the look on your face. “Stage manager?! Miss George, you can’t be serious!” You exclaim as Eddie takes a seat next to her, kicking his boots up on the back of the chair in front of him.

A smirk ever present on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you. “He doesn’t have any experience.” You continue, not about to have your senior year performance ruined by Eddie Munson of all people. “Shouldn't be that hard to keep a diva like yourself in line, hmm?”

Eddie answers before Miss George has a chance to, the theater now going quiet except for a few snickers from the tech crew. “Alright, that’s enough from the both of you. Eddie, I’ll have our ASM get you up to speed. Now, please continue with the monologue.” The male only grins wider as you glare back, before looking back down at your script with a sigh.

He ventures backstage– not sure what ASM stands for and maybe too embarrassed to ask as he sees kids dressed in black moving wooden planks onto the stage, carrying cans of paints and brushes.

He taps a kid on his shoulder, arranging a prop table, he looks at Eddie like he’s seen a ghost.

“I was looking for the ASM?” The kid is looking side to side, still wondering why Eddie Munson is talking to him.

“Uhhh, she’s in the booth.” He mutters, before turning around and going back to his props. What the fuck is a booth?

Eddie just plainly decides to look for it himself, since nobody’s any fucking help in this school. He opens door after door- a storage closet, a closet just for wood, a bathroom. Arrived at the last door, he isn’t exactly sure he’s ever going to find this stupid ASM- and he still doesn’t know what that stands for.

The noise of a door opening startles you, as you try to put on your dress as quickly as you can to avoid flashing someone. It’s only when you see who it is that you start screaming, and with you, Eddie just pops a hand in front of his eyes, screaming a string of sorries, and that he hasn’t seen anything.

“I was just looking for the booth! Stop screaming!” he screeches, worried he’s gonna get himself in trouble with Miss George if she hears you screaming like you’re getting skinned alive. Thankfully, you stop, as Eddie looks away, aware of your exposed back peeking through the zipper. You clutch the fabric against you, struggling to zip up the back of your dress one-handed.

Eddie makes a whistling sound, distracting himself from the way you seem to be teetering between asking for his help and telling him to fuck off.

“The door to the booth is in the audience, by the way. Off to the side, there’s some stairs.” You huff, slightly getting your zipper up. He goes to turn around, but you stop him. He cocks an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, lips in a thin line as you keep the door open with one hand.

“Can you make yourself useful and help me with my zipper?”

With an annoyed huff he steps fully into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as you turn your back towards him once more. Carefully clutching the dress, your eyes meeting his in the long row of vanity mirrors in front of you. You can feel his warm breath on your neck as he steps closer, carefully lifting your hair over your shoulder.

Eddie’s fingers follow the seam of the unzipped garment, barely tracing the bare skin of your back. You try to hold off the shiver from passing through you as he slowly begins zipping it up. A hint of a smirk on his mouth as he notices the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. “Anything else princess? Or am I free to go?”

His fingers now fall away from you, clearing your throat as you try to shake off the arousal that was now coursing through your veins. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing how frazzled he had just made you.

Instead of answering, you just groan, eyes lifted up, going past him and clocking him in the shoulder as you headed back on stage. God you were fucking insufferable.

Eddie finds out that ASM means Assistant Stage Manager and that said ASM was none other than Max Mayfield, roped into doing theatre tech for extra credit. And that the booth was where they tampered with the lights and shit. All he had to do as Stage Manager for that rehearsal was oversee the light cues, which proved to be a little more complicated than he initially expected.

He messes up most of the cues in the first act before he finally seems to have gotten a grasp of it. All the while you’re tossing glares his way, using the light cues as an excuse for the harsh looks. But really it’s due to your annoyance at how the mere brush of his fingertips left you wanting more. Wanting more of him, despite your better judgment– you were not about to have him ruin your senior show.

And in spite of that, you closely follow Eddie’s actions. In a lull between scenes he stands up, you follow him with your eyes as he enters back into the auditorium, beelining backstage.

Eddie’s not totally sure what shit designer built the theatre, because he might as well have pissed himself on the way between the booth and the only bathroom in the auditorium. Not only that, but he kept missing cue after cue, followed by the dirtiest looks known to man, straight into his eyes. After the encounter you had in the dressing room– fingers caressing the soft skin of your back, feeling you shiver under his touch, he knew he had some kind of leverage over you.

So when he’s done taking a leak and looks down at the door, he’s sure you’re behind it, slipping a little piece of paper in the crack.

Meet me in the booth after rehearsal. XX

Eddie wouldn’t say he was nervous, his curiosity was piqued more than anything. However, he’s antsy the last half of the show, leg bouncing as he tries to listen and follow Max’s instructions. The girl gives him an annoyed lecture in between cues. But his mind’s a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what exactly you want from him.

So when he re-enters the dark light booth once everyone else has left, he doesn’t expect you to shove him up against the door, locking it with a swift click. His breath hitches in his throat, both in confusion, and at the fact that you’re fumbling with his belt, despite the dirty looks you’ve been giving him the whole afternoon.

“What uh- what are you doing?” His tone is alarmed, stammering as he tries to grab onto the door handle for purchase. You’re too busy getting his jeans down to bother.

“Sucking you off. That okay?” You look at him for a reassurance that comes almost immediately with a violent nod of his head.

He’s confused, but he’s not going to turn you down. After all, he felt the way you tensed under his touch while he was pulling up your zipper, “Shit, fine by me.” He shrugs, acting like he isn’t busting at the seams waiting for you to pull down his pants.

Eddie’s belt makes a clinking sound, along with his wallet chain while you pull his pants down to his thighs. You move his trembling body away from the door, against the table with the light console. His knuckles turn white as he grabs the edges on the table for support.

Gripping the hem of his checkered boxers, freeing his hardened length. Your eyes widening slightly at the sight of it, he’s big— a lot bigger than you expected. Even in the dim lighting he notices your shocked expression.

“Ya gonna just stare at it all night sweetheart?” He asks, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks down at you. You shoot another glare his way, before grasping the base of his cock in your fist, licking a long stripe up the shaft. Feeling satisfied as you hear his shaky intake of breath. Eagerly you take him past your lips, as a low groan leaves his own.

“Shit,” he curses as your warm mouth envelops him fully, ringed fingers knotting themselves in your hair. You open your mouth as wide as you can, taking him deeper. Gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you try to adjust to his size. He’s by far the biggest one you’ve had.

“Talked such a big game with that mouth of yours sweetness, am I too much for you?” Your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, his cock slipping from your lips as you pull back.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up Munson?” You huff, but before he can reply with another snarky remark your tongue is swirling around the tip of his cock. Silencing him for a moment as you take him back into your mouth.

Another string of curses falls from his lips, as his hips begin thrusting into your mouth with an abandon you haven’t seen before. Your cheeks are hollowed and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close.

“F-fuck where- where’d you learn all of this?” It comes out in broken pants, and he can feel a smirk forming on your lips as you take him out a second time.

“One thing about theatre people is that we’re all gonna fuck each other. You should see how I eat pussy,” you shrug, putting him back in your mouth, and Eddie swears he’s about to bust in less than a minute.

“I’m gonna- fuck.” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence, as you take him out of your mouth and stand back up.

Eddie’s bewildered expression is easy to read as he looks at you like you shot his dog. But you get close, dangerously close to his lips, your nose almost bumping his.

“That’s for fucking up my light cue, idiot,” it’s a feeble whisper against his lips before you’re gone into the darkness of the theatre. Too shocked to react, Eddie’s left with his pants pulled down for a good two minutes before registering what happened.

So he’s left blue balled in that stupid light booth, fuming and confused. There was no way in hell he would let you treat him like that and walk away the way you did.

Eddie had been scheming all week between rehearsals, attempting to find a good time to get you alone. He wasn’t about to let you get away with leaving him like that, but you were actively avoiding him.

But an opportunity fell into his lap without any effort on his part, Miss George asking you to stay behind to work on some blocking with her. As the stage manager he was required to stay behind too, his mind already reeling with possibilities.

So when you duck behind the curtain to change out of your costume, Eddie is quick to swoop in. Offering to shut down the lights and lock up, and Miss George is more than willing to let him.

By the time you get back on stage the theater is dark, the ghost light shining brightly center stage. “Eddie? Miss George?” You call out into the darkness, getting complete silence in return.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” You groan, clutching the strap of your book bag tightly. Of course he’d leave you in the dark theater to fend for yourself. “Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, reaching your hand out in front of you as you make your way across the dark stage.

You’ve bumped into multiple set pieces at this point, as you attempted to find the stairs leading down to the audience in complete darkness. Your frustration grows with each passing minute, that is until you hear the shuffling of feet.

“Hello?” You call out again, squinting as if it would help you see any better. Fear stirs in your gut as the theater is silent once more, shadows seeming to come to life in the corner of your eyes.

Once you finally reach the edge of the stage, you grip onto the railing tightly as you fumble your way down the stairs. Sighing in relief as you feel the carpet beneath your feet.

You only make it a few steps further before you feel a hand snaking around your waist, pulling you back into a hard chest. The other hand cupping itself over your mouth to muffle the scream that leaves your lips.

“Screaming for me already sweets? Haven’t even touched you yet.” His voice is mocking, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he laughs. You quickly squirm out of his grasp, a flashlight clicking on to illuminate his stupidly gorgeous features.

“You fucking psychopath! What were you thinking?” you shove him on the shoulder, he laughs as he zeroes in the flashlight on you, red in the face and furious.

“Had to get back at you for how much of a little tease you were the other day,” he croons. You purse your lips together, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks as you try to stabilize your still quickly beating heart.

“Whatever. Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, but he’s quick to grab your arm and push it behind your back, the flashlight hitting the ground and rolling under one of the seats. His chest is pressed against your shoulder blades as you shudder in his arms.

“You’re not getting away so easily, sweetness.” He breathes against your earlobe as you keen into the warmth of his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his free hand goes to your waist.

“This okay?” he murmurs, and you nod. A sharp nip to your earlobe makes you hiss.

“I can’t fucking see you nod, can I?” You can tell he’s having too much fun torturing you, feeling his hand travel all across your torso and chest.

“N-No,” you whimper.

“Exactly. Try that again,” his hand rests against the waistband of your jeans, awaiting an answer, teasing the skin behind the fabric. The tips of his fingers brush the skin there, making you whimper in response.

“This is okay.” you breathe out, and it’s the only answer he needs to slip his hand past your jeans, unbuttoning the offending material to push his hand further down into your pants.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers against your ear as his hand cups your clothed core. You waste no time grinding against the heel of his palm, letting small, breathy moans escape you. Afraid to get caught in the dead of night getting touched and fondled by the town pariah.

“You sound so pretty singing for me, don’t you sweets?” he whispers smugly. His hand feels a little too good against you, your hips grinding back and forth following the rhythm he was creating, “Hmm, but I think you can be a little louder.”

You gasp as he slips his hand inside your panties, his calloused fingers encircling your swollen clit. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his thigh. His digits dip lower, teasing your entrance before slipping one inside and curling them up.

You can’t stop the shaky cry from leaving your lips, the sound now filling the auditorium. A smirk tugs at his mouth, using the heel of his palm to press against your clit. “Listen to that… you’ve got such a pretty voice don’t you?”

You dig your nails into the denim covering his thigh, a low groan sounding in his throat. “Wonder what it sounds like when you beg,” he easily adds another finger inside your wet cunt, thrusting them deeper. “N-Never gonna happen Munson.”

Eddie laughs, pulling another moan from you as his other hand drifts up under your shirt to cup your breast. “We’ll see about that.”

His breath is fanning hot and humid against your neck as you reach around to bring his head closer, needing him to be closer.

Nothing he’s saying is registering in your brain, as his fingers pump in and out of you with a torturous pace, feeling his wolfish grin plastered against the skin of your cheek.

He’s watching your every move, your every breath and whimper, biting his lip at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his fingers curl up in a certain manner. You don’t think you have much time left before you release yourself all over his hand, and he knows it.

From the way you keep twitching and tightening around his fingers, he feels you’re getting close, but much like you did that night in the booth, he won’t let you get it that easily.

“Y’close sweets?” he groans, his own hips now grinding against the swell of your ass.

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage to say, brain scrambled from his words and ministrations.

“You know what you gotta do now, don’t you, pretty?” he bites at the hinge of your jaw, as you cry out, the noise echoing in the empty theatre.

“You gotta beg for it.” And he hears you gasp at that, a dry chuckle leaves his lips. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you cum that easy did you?”

“Mmm- fuck you, Munson.” you struggle against your brain’s desire to one up him and your body’s desire for release.

“C’mon, don’t you want to cum? I bet you’re so pent up from a whole day of staring at me building sets, aren’t you?” and he’s right, your eyes did wander to his arms in his tight fitting t-shirt, with his hair tied up in a low bun as he hammered nails into wooden boards.

His fingers speed up and you can feel it, you’re so, so close.

“Please, let me,” you whine into his arm, biting at the muscle there. You’re getting so loud.

“That’s right, keep begging for me– good girl gettin’ nice and loud for me,” it’s a growl at this point, a string of please please please follow it. Tears pricking at your eyes with how intensely good he’s making you feel.

So close, so close–

He removes his fingers, jerking you out of that hazy state you were previously in. The male now removes himself from you, retrieving the flashlight from under the seat. Your chest is heaving as you turn to face him, anger now coursing through you as he grins devilishly down at you.

“How cute, you thought I was actually gonna let you cum with how you left me the other day?” Eddie’s laughter fills the theater as he steps closer to you. Your bodies almost touching, lifting his fingers that were just inside you up to your lips.

The brunette carefully drummed the digits against your mouth, “Now, be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” You glare as you let his fingers slip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a teasing manner.

You noticed how his breath hitches, his cock straining uncomfortably in his jeans. But there’s no way that you’re helping him out with his little problem now. You playfully bite his fingers that are still in your mouth, as he utters an annoyed ‘ouch’ before taking them back out.

His fingers make their way to your scalp– yanking at the hair, making you hiss. “You think you’re fucking cute? I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal,” his tone makes you tremble, as he takes his hand out of your hair and disappears into the darkness of the theatre, leaving you once again in the dark.

You stumble down the side stairs of the stage and get out of the side door, quickly making your way home.

And it becomes a regular thing, you and Eddie blue balling each other to the point of frustration, like it’s a sick and twisted power game you both play. After rehearsal he offers to lock up for Miss George and you wait for him in one of the dressing rooms, or in the dimly lit booth. He’s become irritable, and you have as well.

If you were insufferable before, now you’re downright hateful as you yell at the light crew to stop messing up your spotlight moment, or that your costume felt too constricting or your prop too flimsy.

Everything has you on edge, but you don’t hesitate to meet Eddie every night that week after rehearsal. Maybe he’ll let you cum this time.

You wait for him backstage, sitting on one of the set pieces, a throne. There’s a dim overhead light shining on you. Eddie’s lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at you on his Dungeon Master throne.

“Get up.” he commands. The shirt he’s wearing is tight, it makes his shoulders look more prominent. You squeeze your legs together.

“Why should I? My legs are tired from being on my feet all rehearsal,” you give him a fake pout as he inches towards you.

“Because that’s my Dungeon Master throne,” it sounds funny coming out of his mouth, voice low and gravelly “It’s mine.”

You chuckle a bit at that, how is this man being territorial over a set piece?

“And what if I said no?” a smile trapped in between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes.

A dry laugh escapes him as he crosses his arms, “You’re so spoiled huh? Think you can always get your way? Last time I checked, this week it’s been the total opposite, hasn’t it?” and he’s not wrong, he’s given you all but what you want.

“This is my theatre, Munson. I believe you’re on my turf.” and he laughs at that, like you’ve said some kind of joke.

“You do theatre, sweetheart, c’mon you can’t be serious.” he kneels in front of you, grabbing your thighs and moving them apart with ease.

“Don’t be a bitch, Munson.” you hiss, as you feel his lips on your exposed thighs, kissing the skin there.

He whistles, low and sardonic. A wicked smile on his lips “That’s rich coming from you, you’ve had that nasty little attitude this whole week.” he continues with his kisses, while his hand ghosts over your inner thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I wouldn’t have this nasty little attitude as you call it if you would just let me- fuck.” his free hand ghosts over your panties. Your skin is sensitive, your brain is sensitive. Another touch and you might explode.

“Hmmm, what was that?” he bites at the flesh of your thigh, a high pitched whimper falling from your lips “Need me fuck that little attitude out of you sweetheart?”

And you’ve been wound up so tight for the past week that it doesn’t take you long to rid yourself of your panties. He takes advantage of you standing up, plopping down to take his rightful seat on the throne.

That cocky smirk is adorning his features, but you wanted to smack it off. “As cute as you think you look in this seat… it’s always been my throne sweets.”

Before Eddie has time to mutter another snarky remark you’re climbing into his lap, crashing your mouth against his. You’ve learned throughout the past week that it’s really the only way to shut him up.

His ringed fingers dig into the curve of your hips, eagerly grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants. Eddie moans into your mouth, his tongue licking your lower lip. You part your lips, allowing him entry as your tongues fight for dominance.

He tastes like Twizzlers and cigarettes, a combination you shouldn’t find as delicious as you do. But it only seems to make you needier, the denim becoming damp as you continue to grind yourself onto him.

“Look at you making a fucking mess on my jeans,” he mumbles against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip which causes you to whine as he pulls away. His chest rumbles as he chuckles, grabbing your cheeks in his hand— forcing you to look at him.

“But I’d rather you make a mess on my cock sweetheart.” His words have your head reeling, the male now gripping behind your knees and lifting you up. You squeal in surprise, clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself. “Eddie, put me down.”

He carefully lets you slide down his front until your feet touch the ground, spinning you around before bending you over the armrest of his throne. His hands travel up your bare thighs, taking his time to appreciate your soft skin.

“Are you going to fuck me or not Munson?” You huff, the male now flipping up your skirt and landing a harsh smack on your ass. “So goddamn impatient aren’t you?”

You hear the sound of his belt clinking open, the zipper being tugged down. It makes you clench your thighs together, something Eddie didn’t miss. His fingers dipping between your legs, teasing you further.

“Trained you well didn’t I baby?” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, despite how your stomach flipped at the word baby.

And you can feel him then, carefully lining himself at your entrance as you try to grind back into him. A firm hand against your hips stops you. “Ready? I’m gonna go slow,” he mutters, and there’s a gentleness in his words, despite his meanness in how he’s handling you.

You hum in approval and brace yourself. There’s a loud groan coming from behind you as he slips inside your warm heat, reveling in how you almost suck him in, a small gasp leaving you from the stretch.

“Big stretch, huh?” he coos in a cocky lilt, and you almost wanna reach around and punch him, but this idiot has your eyes rolling back from the fullness, and he’s not even all the way in yet.

So you nod, followed by a needy little whine that makes him chuckle low in his chest– you need him that much?

He goes deeper, spurred on by your noises, by how much you need him to fill you up. A sardonic smile on his lips as he bottoms out and slams all the way in, causing you to shriek.

Eddie sets a fast pace, not really giving you any time to adjust, but he’s already nudging that spot deep within you, making you see stars.

You hear him groan, “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you sweets?” and it’s a rhetorical question, because your tongue feels too big for your mouth and there’s nothing coming out of it besides unintelligible whines and moans as you hold on to the armrest across from you.

Your noises only encourage him to go faster, and it’s almost too much the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you. You try to distance yourself from him, just enough to catch your breath, but he grabs your shoulders, using them as leverage to ram deeper into you.

He leans over, his clothed chest against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Goin’ somewhere, baby? Thought you could handle me.” He bites at your earlobe, and there’s just so much going on in your brain that you can’t possibly muster any response to whatever he’s telling you.

“Oh I said that, didn’t I? When we first met. I said I could handle a spoiled little diva like you, and look at that,” he laughs, and you’re sure you’re about to combust. Your fingers reach to grip the cushioned seat of the throne, as another wail leaves your lips.

“Singin’ my praises now aren’t you baby?” The wood of his throne digs into your hips and stomach as he pushes you further into it, a feline movement as he drapes himself off and over you, his hands now gripping the armrest opposite of you for purchase.

Your legs begin to give out, as you beg God or whatever entity up there that he won’t give into his sick little game. That he’ll let you cum this time.

“Shit, sweets, you’re gripping me so tight.” he grunts, a boyish grin on his face as small uh uh uhs fill the room.

“Should we let you cum tonight? We can’t have you being a bitch tomorrow, it’s the end of hell week,” he jokes, and it almost feels humiliating, how he can make fun of you like this and you’re just going to keep fucking yourself back onto him.

“God- Fuck- Please!” you beg, with all the strength you can muster, and he can’t help but let a satisfactory grunt leave his lips.

“Look at you begging, don’t even have to ask now, do I?” and you can feel him twitch inside you. He’s also getting close.

“Ready?” he huffs, with the last little bit of stamina he has, and you can’t brace yourself enough for the wave of pleasure that washes over you with the last few snaps of Eddie’s hips as you come undone with a loud cry, echoing through the dark halls of the theatre.

“Fuck, okay, where should I–” he begins, he’s at his wits end.

“In…side,” is all you can say before he stills himself inside of you, letting his release take over him with a loud groan. His warm cum painting your inner walls, leaving you feeling satiated.

Eddie stabilizes his breath, forehead leaning against your shoulders, days on days of pent up frustration hanging like mist in the air. You’re both able to think clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs, lifting himself off of you as he slowly slips his cock out. You can feel his cum beginning to drip down your thighs, your legs wobble as you attempt to stand. Knees buckling as you try and find your discarded panties.

“Whoa there, I got ya,” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you against his warm chest. It felt good, leaning against him like that. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I’m fine Eddie.”

You push yourself off only to nearly fall once more, an annoyed grumble leaving his lips, “Are you always so stubborn?” He reaches down for your panties, guiding you to sit on the edge of the throne so he could help pull them up your thighs.

It was an unusually tender action, and not one that you expected from him. “Thought you didn’t want me sitting here?” You tease, his brown eyes glancing up as he’s kneeling before you.

“I’ll let it slide this one time,” he chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. A dimple you had never noticed before indenting his cheek, another feature that now found annoyingly attractive.

You roll your eyes at him and stand up, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal.” You quip, as you try to wobble off the stage, he runs after you.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk home like this,” and there’s a tender look in his eyes, something close to genuine concern. “My van is out front, I can drive you.” He points in a general direction behind him, and you want to say no so badly.

But you don’t, and now you find yourself being driven home by Eddie. His dingy van smells like cigarettes and weed and it squeaks every time he goes over a bump. There’s loud music blaring through the stereo speakers and an uncomfortable silence between the two of you.

“So uh, you excited for next week?” Eddie’s the first to break the silence, briefly turning towards you.

“I’m actually kinda nervous,” you admit, sinking into the seat. “It’s a big role, big shoes to fill. I guess I’m just scared I’m not gonna be any good.” You chuckle, almost embarrassed at your admission.

“You? Not good? I’ve seen you, y’know? I’m not just staring at your tits during rehearsal. You’re pretty darn good.” He gives you a half smile at that, pulling up next to your house.

You’re a bit flustered by his compliments, finding yourself not wanting to leave his company just yet.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

“And hey, if you still feel nervous opening night come find me— I’ll help you,” he winks at you and you can’t help but laugh, as you see him looking at you with a big grin on his face.

You look at him back, and God, maybe it’s the streetlights or the moon, but he’s never been more beautiful. In a leap of courage you lean over the dashboard and peck him on the lips.

As you detach from him and reach for the door handle, he pulls you back in deeper, searing and intense, one of those kisses that have your tummy flipping. Except it’s not in the comfort of the theatre, and without an underlying motive behind it.

Just you and him. In his van.

You let your lips part, give him access to your mouth, but he stops you.

“It’s midnight,” he whispers against your lips. “Dress rehearsal tomorrow, you need to rest.” He smiles as you place another peck on his lips. Pouting as you reach for the door handle. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you until you’re inside, seeing the light of your room turn on.

Once he knows you’re safe, he starts his van back up and pulls away from your house with the cheesiest grin on his face.

Opening night. It’s finally here.

You should feel excited, and yet all you want to do is lock yourself in one of the broom closets and hide. You’ve never felt so nervous before, thinking of all the different outcomes that could occur. What if you forget all your lines? Or you have an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction during a quick change?

Your mind is reeling as you enter the dressing room, the rest of the cast buzzing excitedly around you. You fake a smile and sit at your station, noticing the bouquet of lilies resting on the counter top. You can feel yourself flushing, opening the card that came with it.

Break a leg Juliet xx.

You ask around the rest of the cast but no one knows who left them, and while you hoped they came from a certain metalhead… you couldn’t be so sure. Your little cat and mouse game had suddenly turned into something very real, and part of you was afraid it would be over once the curtains closed.

You get ready for the show in a daze, now staring at yourself in the dressing room mirror as nerves rage through your insides. The rest of the cast had dissipated, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

“There’s the leading lady,” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your haze, meeting his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. He must have noticed the look of panic across your features, as he rushes to your side.

You give him a weak smile in return, letting a heavy exhale escape past your lips.

“So uhhh, did you like the flowers?” He asks, and he can see your eyes light up in the mirror, momentarily forgetting nerves, fear and anxiety.

“So it was you,” he coaxes you to face him, kneeling next to you with a large grin.

“T’was I, fair maiden.” He does a half bow from his kneeling position, making you giggle.

“So you’re in love with me now?” You tease, as Eddie’s hands come to rest on your thighs, spreading them as much as he can in your dress before moving in between them.

“I’m literally going to die from nerves, what if I mess up my lines?” you begin, but Eddie seems to have much different plans.

“There she is….” he murmurs, more to himself.

You feel the heat pool in your middle at his words, squirming a little in your seat. Eddie reaches to cup your chin, tilting it down so you meet his gaze. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, “You know, my offer still stands Lady Capulet.”

“Here? The doors are literally opening in fifteen minutes, don’t you have stage manager things to take care of?” your tone is alarmed, rather, a mix of alarm and excitement.

“My job as stage manager right now is to make sure Juliet feels comfortable enough to go on stage,” he grins, peppering kisses over your hand and wrist.

“But what if we get caught? Or you make me cum so hard I forget my lines?” The nerves make you ramble, as his chin rests on one of your thighs.

“As good as I am at eating you out sweetheart, I doubt that’ll happen.” He bunches the fabric of your costume up your thighs, beginning to give sweet caresses on the skin of your legs.

You seem unconvinced, still.

“Look, I’ll sweeten the deal. If you get all your lines right, which I don’t doubt you will, I’ll take you out on a date.” His lips are pursed in a coy smile.

Your eyes widen, “Like a date date? You and me?” and your heartbeat picks up.

“Who else, idiot?” Eddie laughs, which makes you smile, “Now,” he begins.

“Do you want me to do something about those jangled nerves of yours?” And you can’t help but bite your lip and nod.

His lips begin trailing up your thighs, a shiver running through you from his tender actions. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” He pauses, shifting closer as he switches sides, now leaving open mouth kisses along your opposite thigh. “It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as he works his way to your clothed center, his eyes flicking up to look at you. “Arise, fair sun and kill the envious moon… and whatever the fuck else Romeo says.” Eddie chuckles before eagerly pressing his mouth against your clothed pussy, his tongue lapping at the wet spot on the cotton.

A gasp bubbles deep in your throat at the sensation, feeling the bliss of his tongue through the cotton barrier, your body easing up from its nervous state.

He looks up at you, “Good, huh?” He hums through the fabric, and you’re wound up so tight you’re already panting.

He taps the side of your thigh to get you to lift your hips, removing your panties in the process.

A low whistle escapes him as you spread your legs for him again, “Talk about eating in costume, baby, jeez.” He chuckles, and the joke makes you laugh too.

A short lived laugh at that, turning into a breathless gasp when his tongue makes contact as he begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

Your hand immediately goes to tug at his curls, not caring that they’re tied up and out of his face to be able to see the cue sheets. The delicious pull at his scalp makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A low moan falls out of your lips, catching yourself, hand flying to your mouth as you hear the rest of the cast clamoring outside.

“Gotta be quiet, Lady Capulet,” he snickers as he goes back to burying his face between your legs. His tongue darting in and out of you as a hand reaches for your mouth, wetting two of his fingers.

You don’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him, a bite at the juncture between your pelvis and your thigh, “Atta girl.” He mumbles against the wet skin, popping his fingers out of your mouth to tease at your entrance.

“That’s it baby, focus on me.” A whine escapes you as you’re now grinding on his tongue, his fingers enter you slowly, head thrown back in pleasure.

“You nervous, baby?” He asks, a cocky smile on his face. His fingers curl upward, your eyes squeeze at the overwhelming sensation.

You shake your head, still sentient. Not too far gone yet.

“You gonna use me to get off, my lady?” His fingers are pumping faster, feeling tears brimming on your waterline, hoping to not spill all over your face, your stage makeup seems to be in precarious conditions.

A familiar warmth, deep in the pool of your tummy, “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” You know how much he likes to hear you sing for him. His spare hand grabs onto your thigh, rings biting the soft skin there, feeling yourself teetering on the edge.

“Thaaaat’s it, you’re doing so well,” he whispers. One more pump of his fingers and you cum with a silent cry, biting onto your hand, feeling yourself pulsate around his fingers.

Without much warning he slips them out, sucking on his own fingers, tasting your own delicious essence.

“Places!” You hear Miss George say backstage, as Eddie retrieves your panties for you and slips them up your legs.

Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror, tying them back. He places a kiss on your cheek with a hurried, “Good luck— uh fuck I meant break a leg.” Then he furtively leaves the dressing room.

You feel a blush spreading across your body, finally relaxed and ready to begin the show.

You leave the dressing room, joining the rest of the cast, full of excitement. You know all your love monologues are going to be directed towards a certain metalhead tonight.

The show goes smoothly and you don’t forget a single line, you’re surrounded by family and friends, ready to do it all again the day after.

You go back into the dressing rooms to grab your stuff and change, but a long mop of curly hair occupies your chair.

“Eddie, you can’t be here!” you whisper, as he turns around with the biggest smile plastered on his face.

“Just wanted to tell my girl congratulations in private. You smashed it tonight,” you blush at the nickname.

“Since when am I your girl?” you ask, not letting him see how much it affected you.

“Since you kissed me in my van when I dropped you off, gorgeous.” He flirts, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

“So, how about that date?”

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tagging: @thornsnvultures, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @duuhrayliegh, @ali-r3n, @sunnythevampireslayer, @bimbobaggins69, @jamdoughnutmagician, @eiightysixbaby, @aphrogeneias, @daisy-munson, @gravedigginbbydoll, @s6raphic, @take-everything-you-can, @strangerstilinski

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!reader #eddie munson fluff

[dickmastersfruit]

God, Shut Up

Pairing: James Potter x F!reader

Summary: You and James had always been close but you think he's in love with Lily. Turns out you were just too oblivious to see who he really liked.

Warnings: underage drinking

Wordcount: 1.4k

You and James had grown up with each other. Always attached at the hip, from the moment you met to now. After all these years you still remained the best of friends, despite your unrequited crush you've had for years.

The marauders sometimes found it annoying how you guys had your inside jokes and the secrets you kept. Well it was mainly Sirius but that's because he had always claimed the role of being James's bestfriend.

The week had been going slow so instead of paying attention to potions you stared at James who was sitting across the room. He was paired up with Lily Evans, again.

You didn't hate Lily, how could you. She was literally the nicest person you had ever met. It was no secret either that she was absolutely stunning too.

"You know, you should tell him" Sirius said breaking you out of your daze.

"What" You said confused looking at Sirius who was sitting in the chair next to you.

"Tell James that your in love with him... duh" Sirius says annoyed as his eyes wander off to Remus.

"Fine then tell Remus your in love with him" You spat back at him.

Sirius eyes narrowed at you before he scoffed and dropped the subject. Well at least you thought he had.

"You know I don't know where you got the idea I love Remus" He whispered to you.

"Really" You deadpanned before chuckling and going back to your reading.

"No really.. like where did you get that. I can have a best mate. Me and Remus are like you and James" he said before his eyes widened. "No that was a bad example.

"No it wasn't" You said laughing as you went back to reading the instructions.

Except it was a bad example because at least it was obvious Remus liked him back. James on the other hand clearly had no romantic feelings. How could he when he had Lily to fawn over.

...

The weekend had finally rolled around. Sirius continued to badger on about how you should tell James your feelings. Apparently he had a gut feeling that he liked you back. You just couldn't let yourself believe that no matter how much you wanted to.

"You coming to the game later" Peter asked looking at you as the five of you sat in lunch together.

"Of course" You smiled at Peter before briefly glancing at James who was sitting next to him. "I never miss them".

"James can i talk to you real quick" A flowery voice asked. You looked up to see Lily standing there as her long red hair glimmered in the light.

"yeah" James said as he stood up from his chair. "I'll be back" He said as you looked away from where Lily and James were. However when you looked back everyone's eyes were on you. James had told you specifically he'd be back.

"O- ok" You smiled not sure what else to say.

He followed Lily away from our table and out the great hall. You watched them walk out still confused on why he had pointed you out specifically.

"What was that.. did you finally tell him" Sirius said staring at you creepily.

"Um no".

"Tell James what" Remus and Peter said at the same time

"Nothing" You and Sirius said the same time causing the two of you too start laughing maniacally.

...

You hadn't meant to miss the game. You knew how much these matches meant to James, especially how much he usually wanted you there.

From the late nights of helping the marauders with there pranks to the lack of motivation you've had for the last week; your homework had started piling up. You decided that you could get some done before the game.

Of course that ended up being a terrible idea since you had fallen asleep whilst working on an essay. You woke up with your body aching and the feeling of parchment stuck to your face.

You had scrunched your eyes together expecting for the bright mid day sun to hit your face except there was no sun. It was completely pitch black outside.

Your face dropped as you heard the loud music coming from the Gryffindor common room. Shit.

You quickly ran out wanting to find James. Knowing him you knew he was gonna end up being upset. As you ran down the stairs. Sirius's voice boomed as he called out your name.

"Where's James?" You asked calmly even though you could tell he was black out drunk. He stumbled forward and you tried to help catch him despite him being much taller.

"Jesus ok" You breathed out trying to get Sirius to sit down. You pushed him down onto the couch. He grabbed onto your hand almost making you stumble onto him. Suddenly he yelled that he could see James as he jumped to his feet.

James head whipped toward you and Sirius. A smiled formed on his lips before his eyes drifted to you. His smile dropped as he stood up and grabbed a few bottles of beer and headed up the stairs.

"No James wait" You yelled as Remus came over to grab Sirius who was now laying on the couch looking dead. "Yeah can you um..." You start.

"Yeah of course" Remus said grabbing Sirius and taking him over to where there were water bottles and another couch. He sat Sirius down and unscrewed his water bottle making him chug the cold water.

Your ran as fast as you could and knocked on the dorm door rapidly. "James" You yelled knocking harder.

"What" He said opening the door slowly. Only enough where you could only see a sliver of his face. The light shined on his chocolate brown eyes and glowing skin making your heart race.

"I'm sorry... I know i told you I'd be there" you tried to explain. "Please I fell asleep, I'm so sorry" You said as your shoulders slumped. James made eye contact with you again.

"Just come in" He sighed opening the door all the way to let you in. James went to go sit in his bed and sulk as you stood there at the entrance of the room.

"It's fine, I just really wanted you to be there" he whispered after a few minutes, so quiet you almost didn't hear him.

"Was Lily at least there" You asked curiously. You knew that it was probably stupid to bring her up right now, but you had no clue what to say.

"Uh yeah" He shrugged. "What does Lily have to do with anything" He asked confused as he stared daggers into your head.

"I just wanted to know if you had the girl you like there" You blurted out but instantly regretting it.

"What" he blushed staring at you.

"Lily... you like Lily" You stuttered looking at his tomato red face. Had you been wrong somehow?

"No. No yeah uh no" He laughed awkwardly. He shook his head trying to come up with something to say to explain to you how he felt.

"Are you laughing at me".

"Yes" James said starting to laugh harder. The awkwardness had begun to fade as a smile peaked at your lips watching him laugh. Even though he was laughing at you.

"Lily's dating Mary... everyone knows this" He laughs as you blush beet read.

"Oh" You in fact did not know this.

"Plus the girl who likes me wasn't there" He admitted staring at you with a longing look.

"Oh sorry" You apologized feeling bad. "Oh" Your eyes widened as you realized he meant you.

"Oh god" He groaned. "You really didn't realize... honestly i thought the past year was you trying to nicely reject me" he laughed.

"I'm doing the opposite of rejecting you actually... wait what's the opposite, I'm open" You say. "Well that not right either" You laugh embarrassed as you tried to think of what you were actually trying to say.

James stalked toward you before grabbing your hips "God, shut up" He muttered before holding your body flush against his as he kissed you. His lips moved slowly against yours as his hands gripped your hips. A warm feeling flooded your body as he kissed you harder.

He pulled back breathless holding your face in his hands. "Thankyou" You smiled looking down at your feet.

He laughed lifting your chin up so you would look up at him. "Your welcome" he chuckled placing a kiss on your sweet lips.

Masterlist James Potter Masterlist

#bbgwrites #james potter #james potter x reader #the maruaders #marauders era #marauders #james potter one shot #james potter x you #james potter fluff #marauders oneshot #one shot #lily evans #lily x mary #harry potter #dead gay wizards

[silentglassbreak]

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Last chapter is next my loves. I appreciate you all for being on this journey with me!

Warnings: SSSMMMUUUTTTTT. Kinky smut. @n@l 😉

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86 @thisbicc @xx-like-a-villian-xx @diabolicdiatonics

Part 11 - The Death of Peace of Mind

I sat in the chair of the restaurant, my chest shaking with laughter at Jolly’s retelling of one of our first stage performances. This was before Matt joined us, and we were an absolute mess of a band. Our first album had just released, and Sumerian was throwing us into shows we were absolutely not ready for.

I had stood in front of the massive crowd at the festival, my throat sticking together in fear. Vince was already playing the opening rift to Exit Wounds, and I completely spaced the words.

I stood, still as a block of cement, staring out at the faces. After about three repeats of the opening to the song, Nick finally hollered into the microphone.

“Noah, get it together!”

Something about that snapped me out of my trance, and I began singing, still terrified.

It took half of the song for me to find a rhythm. And then, I went absolutely berserk.

I jumped around, head banged for my life, and sang the vocals. While I was thrashing on stage, screaming loudly into the mic, I somehow managed to get a little too close to my stand, swinging my face straight into the bracket that held the mic.

Cutting my face just above my left eyebrow, I was oblivious, still head banging, and spraying blood all over myself, Jolly, and some members of the crowd.

It was horrific. Vince had described the scene as ‘a bloodbath with a little metal thrown in’. I didn’t realize I was bleeding until I felt the hot liquid running into my eye. I wondered why the entire crowd was staring at me like I was insane.

“Oh my God! Did you stop the set?!” Laura asked.

Nick shook his head. “Fuck no, dude! He tied a bandana around his forehead and played the entire thing! It was the most hardcore thing we had ever seen!”

Mileena was staring at me from where she sat in the chair next to me, inspecting my face. “I don’t even see a scar!”

Chuckling, I rubbed my forehead. “I had to get ten stitches after. The guy at the ER was cool, managed to put them in my eyebrow so you couldn’t see the scar.”

She reached up, running the pad of her thumb over my eyebrow, and smirked. “Glad you survived.”

Her words were sarcastic, but she giggled after.

It had been three days since Mileena’s deposition, and since that time, we had been slowly getting back to a normal amount of communication.

I could tell she was hesitant, but I insisted that we needed to at least try and get along, for not only Addison’s sake, but ours as well.

Whether we wanted to admit it at any given time or not, we needed each other. And after what she said to Rachel at the law office? All of my anger toward her had faded, and I was, once again, finding myself seeking her out more and more.

She was soft with me, allowing me to call at least once a day, and would converse with me in texts. We were trying, but progress is slow.

We sat at the large table, big enough for Leena and I, Laura and Nick, Jolly, and Folio. Nick had asked us to join them for dinner, but wouldn’t tell us why.

We had ordered and eaten, now half of the group were enjoying drinks, with the exception of Leena, Laura, and myself. They continued listening to Jolly tell his stories, which was certainly his strength in conversation, when I felt a hand on my knee.

I looked down, noticing Leena’s hand casually placed on my leg, her eyes still looking across the table at the guys, enthralled in the tale he was telling. It was comfortable, a familiar form of affection.

I let my hand fall over the top of hers, squeezing gently, watching as her lips quirked subtly at the gesture.

“Okay, as much as I want to hear another embarrassing story of myself…” I said as I lifted my free hand in the air. “Nick, are you going to tell us why we’re all here?”

Stealing a glance across the table at Laura, his eyes sparkled, something excited.

“You ready?”

Laura was resting her chin on her hands, a warm smile on her face. “Whenever you are, babe.”

Nick reached down beside his chair, a black gift box appearing on the table, bright red paper ribbon wrapping the top.

“Should we let Mileena do the honors?” Nick raised an eyebrow at Laura, who just nodded in response.

Leena’s hand left my leg to reach for the box, smiling wide. “Me?” She held the flat box, running her fingers over the ribbon. “What is it?”

Laura bumped Leena’s elbow from where she sat next to her. “Open it and find out, dork.”

Carefully, Mileena pulled the ribbon with her fingertips, until the bow on top fell loose. She shimmied the top of the box off, all eyes curiously trying to see the contents.

Red paper covered whatever was inside, and Leena unfolded it, revealing some kind of fabric underneath.

Her hands covered her mouth, and she gasped sharp.

“Oh my God…”

I leaned over to see. “What is it?”

Inside the box, under the paper, was a red and black tie dyed shirt, that was obviously very, very small, with the words ‘Baby Omens’ written over the top.

No, it wasn’t a shirt. It was a onesie.

When my brain finally clicked together, my eyes snapped to Nick.

“Dude!”

“What?! Someone fucking show us!” Folio and Jolly were bouncing on either side of Nick.

“Leena, hold it up.” I pushed the box toward her. She carefully grabbed the fabric, eyes welled up with tears, and held it on display. I watched Jolly and Folio’s mouths fall open, eyes bulging.

“You’re having a baby?!” Folio hollered, and Jolly wrapped an arm around Nick’s shoulders.

“Hell yeah, dude! Congratulations!”

Mileena had set the onesie back down, noticing the piece of film paper in the bottom of the box.

She lifted it, eyes scanning the sonogram photos, and tears began spilling.

“Lo! I’m so fucking excited!” She squealed, wrapping her arms around her best friend, “You’re going to be a Mom! I’m so fucking proud!”

Laura squeezed Leena tight. All of the guys stood, wrapping up Nick in a huge group hug.

“Bro, you’re a Dad now! I’m not alone anymore!” I told him, hands on his shoulders.

He smiled at me, something like excitement and fear mixed on his face. “You better be ready to show me the ropes, dude.”

I laughed. “What fucking ropes?!”

This made everyone break out in wild laughter.

“How far along are you?” Folio asked as Laura sat back down in her chair, and we all followed.

“Fourteen weeks.” She said proudly.

“How long have you known?!” Leena sounded absolutely hysterical.

“Relax. Only a few weeks. It didn’t even occur to me that I was late until Nick mentioned something.”

He nodded to her statement. “Girl went like two months without a period. See, she thinks I don’t pay attention.” He held his hands up.

She scoffed. “You pay attention to my cycle, but not to where you left your favorite socks?”

“Ya got me there.” He smirked. Reaching a hand across the table, he held hers tight, giving her the most genuine, lovesick look I’ve ever seen.

For a second, just a passing breath, I was jealous.

But my love for them, and my genuine excitement at being an Uncle, and my brother finally being a Dad, overshadowed any ill feelings I had. This was great news, and a hell of a way to cheer us up out of the darkness we had all been swimming in.

We stayed at the table, talking and celebrating for a while longer, before finally making our way out of the restaurant.

I stood, the palm of my hand pressed to the small of Leena’s back, guiding us toward the side of the restaurant with the group.

“Leena, I know you didn’t drive here. Are you getting a ride with us?” Laura looked at her, but I caught her glancing up at me.

“Uh,” She chewed on her lip, deciding her next words, or waiting for me to.

“I can give her a ride.” I spoke solidly.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to drive out of your way to take her home, when we’re already going there?”

Clearing my throat, I wrapped a hand around Leena’s hip, building some confidence.

“I’m going to take her home.”

Laura gave us a knowing look. “Home…as in…?”

Leena just giggled, and turned, her hand pulling my arm along with. “Goodnight everyone.”

The drive back to the house was filled with Leena gushing over Laura and Nick’s news.

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me! I mean, I can. I know she had concerns before about fertility, but still! We live together! I didn’t notice!”

I laughed. “Maybe you were distracted?”

She shrugged back into the seat, looking out the window. “How self-centered is that? I’ve been so wrapped up in my own bullshit that I didn’t know my best friend was pregnant?”

Reaching a hand over the console, I brushed my fingers over her arm, grabbing her attention.

“It’s been a rough year, Mileena. It’s only fair that you had a lot on your mind.”

“I guess. I just feel bad.”

“You know now. You can be there for her every step of the way. She’s still early in. You’ve got plenty of fun ahead.”

She laughed at that, me joining her. “Oh, yeah. If she’s anything like me, she’s going to be pretty moody.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “If she’s anything like you, Nick will be hiding at our place at least twice a week.”

She stared at me, mouth hanging open. “What?!” Her hand reached over to swat at me. “That’s why you were always ‘going to the studio’?!”

I couldn’t stop the bursting laughter coming out of me. “Babe, I have a studio in the house. How did you not know?!”

“You fucker!” She was cackling, but also pawing at me. I caught her wrist in my hand, reaching up and licking a long stripe along her forearm in retaliation.

“Ew!” She snapped her arm back, rubbing it on her jacket, cringing. “I hate being licked!”

Lowering my eyes at her for a second, I smirked. “That’s not true.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “In-sufferable.”

After only about ten more minutes, we were pulling into my driveway beside Andrea’s car. I let us in the house, and we both stopped, amused at the scene in front of us. The living room was in a haphazard state of disarray, toys sprawled all over the floor, a few stray Cheez-its scattered on the coffee table. The TV was still playing the tail end of Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone, and Angel, like the true marvel he is, was laying starfish style across the entire couch, snoozing.

In the recliner, Andrea was leaned back, hair askew, and eyes closed with sleep. Addison was laid on top of her, face pressed against her stomach, already in pajamas and hair braided tightly on the back of her head.

I stole at glance at Leena, who was trying not to laugh at the scene.

She looked up at me. “You put Addie in bed and I’ll wake Andrea?”

I just nodded, slipping my shoes off and dropping my coat on the back of the couch. Leena walked over to Andrea, carefully peeling the baby off of her and handing her to me. She stirred for only a moment, eyes cracking open, before she dropped her head down on my shoulder, right back into her dreams.

I heard Leena rousing Andrea as I made my way up the stairs and into Addie’s room, Angel right behind. I laid her down on her toddler bed, tucking the blankets in around her, and cracking the door.

By the time I was headed back down, Leena was hugging Andrea goodbye.

“Sorry she was such a handful.”

Andrea waved her off, smiling. “It’s fine. She’s just so rambunctious these days.”

“Well, she’s almost two, so it’s getting harder to keep a handle on her.” Leena shook her head.

“Oh absolutely. Let me know what you all do for her birthday. I already got her a gift.”

I stepped up behind Leena, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Party will be here. We just haven’t settled on a day yet. It’s in two weeks, so we’ll let you know soon.”

Andrea nodded, smiling before she left, leaving Mileena to lock the deadbolt behind her.

She turned and looked at me, her eyes big and brown, tearing through my soul.

I had her, something in me told me I did, but I was still so unsure.

“So.” I sighed, putting my hands in my pockets.

She grinned. “So.”

Daring to press my boundaries, I took a step toward her, causing her to back up, back flat against the door. I kept myself impossibly close, without making actual physical contact with her body. Her eyes looked up at me, a serious look on her face.

“What now?” I asked.

“I really don’t know.”

My teeth pulled at my lip, waiting a beat before I finally decided on what to say.

“Would you hate me if I kissed you?”

Her eyes widened subtly, her face recognizing the memory I was drawing from.

Towering over her, and pressing forward to box her in against the door, I leaned my head down so my lips were level with her ear.

“Would you tell me to stop?”

Pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, I watched as her tongue grazed over her lip, stare locked on me.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and her lips parted just enough to invite me in. I leaned in close, and brushed our lips together so gently that it was barely considered contact.

I felt her fingers very slowly press into my chest, and wrap around the fabric of my shirt, tugging me in closer.

That was all it took.

Locking my hand around the back of her neck, I pulled her in, pressing her lips to mine hard, fingers tangling in the long hair at the base of her skull. Her mouth moved with mine, her tongue fighting past my lips, tasting my own with fervor.

A soft, sweet moan erupted from her throat, which threw me over the edge. My hands grabbed her waist, lifting her off the ground. This pulled a sharp squeak out of her before she wrapped her legs around my waist, replacing her mouth on mine.

Her body was locked in place against the door while my hands gripped her thighs, nails leaving marks where they dug in.

I let myself have this moment, body pressed against her, lips locked with hers, electricity zapping between us all at once. It was so satisfying it almost brought tears to my eyes.

It felt fresh. It felt honest. It felt like something was finally the way it was supposed to be. It didn’t feel desperate or sad. No pain. All love. All acceptance.

This was what was supposed to happen. This is where we picked it back up.

I used my hands to secure her to me before pulling away from the door, turning us, and walking us over to the couch. I sat down, her legs straddled over my lap as she kissed me, her lips trailing down to my jaw and neck. I let my head fall back as her tongue left soft kitten licks over my adam’s apple, a chill running up my spine.

Her fingers were already pulling my shirt up from where it was tucked into the waistband of my pants. Hands popping open the front of my slacks, she unzipped them easily, never letting her mouth disconnect from my skin.

“Noah?” Her voice was so small, muffled against my ear.

“Mileena?”

“I’ve got a lot to make up for, so I think you should get comfortable.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. I felt the air leave my lungs all at once, my hands falling to the sides of us, completely helpless.

Did I die? Was this heaven? If God is real, is this what everyone talks about? Nirvana, if you will.

She slipped off of me carefully, her long skirt sitting just below her belly button, showing off the black jeweled ring tucked into it. Her black, tight crop top hugged her perfect, round breasts. She had obviously opted to go braless this evening, as her nipples were pointed hard through the fabric of her shirt.

Punch-drunk on the sight, I just watched as she smiled devilishly at me, her hair falling partially over her one eye, and kneeled down in front of the couch.

Her hands trailed up my legs, tugging on my slacks so they slipped down my waist to my thighs, exposing my black boxers, bulging in the crotch.

Slowly, meticulously, she ran a hand up my leg and over my cock, massaging through the fabric. A hiss fell from my lips as I watched, mesmerized by her every move. After more than a few painfully long moments, she hooked her fingers into the hand of my underwear and pulled them down, releasing my cock.

Any sense of calm and collect she had prior to that moment was gone, as she sat up straight in an instant, and leaned forward to run a long stripe down the underside of my shaft. My legs twitched, and I couldn’t help but moan loudly. It was such an insanity-inducing feeling.

She let her tongue circle the head a few times, gathering all of the precome she could, before wrapping her lips around me and letting my cock slide all the way down the back of her throat, and gagging harshly as a result.

My hips bucked involuntarily, and my hand gripped the back of her head, fingers digging into her scalp.

“Holy fuck.” Was all I could manage as she pulled back, tears in her eyes, her eyeliner smudging just enough that she looked fucking edible.

I assumed she would need a moment, but she swallowed back down once again, gagging herself on my dick, gripping the base with her hand.

The sight was ungodly, and I was going to fucking lose it. I wouldn’t last long with her behaving this way. This was what men only dreamed about.

“God damn, girl. You must’ve really missed me, huh?” My fingers tightened in her hair, pulling it at the roots.

She could only manage a garbled ‘mhm’ with her mouth so fucking full.

She choked again, but continued on like an absolute warrior.

“Wow, what a good fucking girl. Choking on my cock like that?” Pressing her down harder, I felt her throat spasm around the head. “You’re so fucking starved for it, I can tell.”

She pulled against me, her head popping up sharp to catch her breath. I let go for a moment to allow it, tears now falling freely.

For a second, I almost thought it was too much, until she just licked her lips and went back at it, barely skipping a beat.

My head fell back on the cushion, eyes rolling to the back of my skull. It was too good, and I wouldn’t last.

“I’m going to come if you don’t slow down, Princess.”

Her eyes flashed up at me, a sweet, innocent look from under her lashes. I felt my entire body convulse.

“Jesus!” My pelvis jerked, pushing myself further down her throat, eliciting a wet gagging sound.

With a few thrusts, I was spilling down the back of her throat, my cock twitching in her mouth while she swallowed.

My hand fell back onto the couch, releasing my grip on her. She pulled off of me with a pop of her lips, smiling up at me, leaning her cheek on my thigh.

“Good?”

I was still attempting to catch my breath when I looked down at her.

“Something like that.” My words came between gasps of air.

She chuckled, standing, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

She turned, moving to walk back toward the other side of the room, but I was too quick, lunging and pulling her to topple on top of me.

I connected our lips, eagerly tasting the salt and saliva on her tongue. My brain was racing, dying for a taste.

Disconnecting us for a second, I smiled at her. “Where you going?”

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she grinned. “To fix my face. I’m sure my makeup is all over.”

I pressed my lips to her cheek, humming against her skin. “You look stunning.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Sure, I do.”

“You do.” I pulled her on top of me, and I fell back on the couch, laying flat. “Good enough to eat.”

My hands grabbed her hips, forcing her onto my chest. She steadied herself with a hand on the back of the couch.

“What are you doing?”

I pulled at her skirt, tugging at the waistband.

“Take it off.”

Carefully, and with an inquisitive look, she lifted herself enough to slide the long skirt off, leaving her navy blue panties beneath.

“Those too.”

She obeyed, sitting back down on me and staring, a primal hunger in her eyes.

Making my point as clear as I could, I pointed to myself and demanded. “Sit.”

Her eyes blew wide.

“Noah…”

“I’m not asking.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Bullshit.” I tugged at her hips, dragging her forward against her physical protests. “I’m not fucking asking.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the depression has put more than a few pounds on me.”

I scoffed. “And?”

“And, I will fucking crush you!”

There wasn’t anything about what she said that made sense. Was she as thin as she once was, when we first met? No. Did I give even a half of a fuck? Not a chance.

I laughed, reaching up to nip my teeth at the inside of her knee.

“You will not crush me. Suffocate? Maybe. I’m good with it. Will gladly pass away between your thighs, Princess.”

“Noah! I can’t! I’m fat!”

My laughter stopped abruptly, and my hands stilled. I narrowed my eyes at her, reaching a hand up and gripping her hip hard. She griped at the force.

“Listen to me.” She tried to avert her eyes, but I reached up and caught her chin, forcing her to look back at me. “Don’t ever say that about yourself again. You are a fucking goddess, you understand me?”

She pouted, clearly not hearing what I was saying.

“Don’t believe me?”

She snorted. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh?” I quirked an eyebrow and released her, pulling my arms back behind my head. “Okay, Princess. Exactly what parts of you are fat?”

Covering her face with her hand, she groaned. “Everything! My waist. My hips. My thighs. My ass. I have stretch marks. My breasts aren’t as perky anymore. My neck is chubby. I’m a mess, Noah.”

She looked to be on the verge of tears, so I leveled with her.

“Alright, let’s take this one at a time.” I propped myself up on the couch pillow, massaging my hands into her legs.

“Your neck?” My hand trailed up, gripping the skin around her throat, and I smirked. “Perfect fucking size. Fits perfectly in my hand.”

A tinge of pink crept up to her cheeks. So far so good.

“Your breasts?” I let my hand fall onto her right breast over her shirt, my other hand gripping the opposing. “Perfect. Now not only a sight to behold, but also knowing you used them to feed my baby? To give her the nutrients and immunity she needed to be healthy? There’s something instinctive about that. I love them more now than I did before.”

She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Your ass…” I reached back behind her, gripping my fingers into the skin on either side, and she rocked back into them. “Fucking delicious. Would bite through it if you’d let me. After everything, it’s only gotten easier to grip, which is so fucking great. Would live here if I could.”

She smirked at me, leaning back against my hands. I could feel a familiar moisture beginning to pool against my chest.

“What else was there?” I perused, then smiled. “Oh right, your thighs and hips?”

My hands grabbed her thighs, pulling them apart, taking in the sight of her lips glistening. It was working.

“These are honestly my favorite part. They’re so fucking thick, strong. Wrapped around me? Fucking Christ.” I licked my lips. “Could die like that, baby, I swear it.”

“I get it Noah.” She giggled.

“No, no. Let me finish.” I finally ran my fingers gently over the skin of her abdomen, tracing the few stretch marks she typically hid. “These,” I smiled, this time a warm smile. “are the proof that you’ve endured the hardest task a woman can do. You gave me my baby girl. I thank whatever God is out there for every last one of these stretch marks.”

I could see her eyes getting misty.

“You, and your body, are perfect. Everything about it is amazing, and all I want to do is bury myself inside of it…if you’ll let me.”

Her mouth hung open, clearly disbelieving everything I had said.

“Now that we settled all of that,” I waved my hand between us, and grabbed her hips again. “would you please sit on my face?!”

A hard, strained laugh fell out of her, but this was truly no laughing matter. I needed her.

So instead of asking, I pulled her, using the strength of my arms to bring her to me, her pussy centimeters from my face.

“Fucking finally.” I groaned before diving in, and latching to her core. My mouth was lapping at her, making her squirm and wiggle.

I felt her knees trying to pull away, trying to get further off of me. She was hovering, trying not to put weight on me, so I grabbed her thighs, and pulled her down, pressing her against my face.

My eyes shot up, giving her a warning glare, before I went back to my work.

I licked her clit softly, teasing her. The sounds coming out of her were unholy, making me work harder to draw them out.

Her arm was gripping the back of the couch, and I could see her stomach muscles tightening. I hummed into her, my lips finding her favorite spot and attaching mercilessly.

“Oh my God, Noah.” Her head fell back, and her body began writhing, riding my face, making me smile.

I felt her let go, her pussy bucking into me, my voice making soft vibrations while I tormented her.

“I’m going to come if you keep doing that.” She warned.

Naturally, I’m not one to heed a warning, and continued my ministrations on her sweet spot, making sharp screams burst out of her.

“Oh God, Noah. Fuck, don’t stop. I’m going to come. Oh my God.”

My eyes were closed, focused. I felt my dick twitching between my legs, already back at full attention.

Her orgasm ripped out of her in the form of a guttural scream, riding herself through it in my lips, and I took my time lapping up every last drop.

Eventually, unable to hold herself up any longer, she fell backwards on the couch, her chest heaving hard.

I sat up, pulling her back to me, and lined myself up to her with precision, surprising her as I pressed in all the way to the hilt.

Her eyes popped open, mouth falling open.

I sighed, so fucking stimulated, so fucking alive.

My hips thrust hard into her as I bent down to kiss her lips.

She was feral, a wild animal, grabbing my hair and pulling my face to hers, tongue licking my lips in a sloppy fashion, tasting herself on my skin.

There wasn’t much rhythm to my movements, desperate to feel every inch of her around me.

“Leena,” I breathed, catching her eyes. “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

She couldn’t respond, so fucked out and spent already.

“I can’t believe I ever let you leave me.” I snapped my hips harder, the sound of skin on skin filling the walls of the house around us.

“Can’t believe I ever let anyone else touch you.” My rage was pouring out through my words. “No one gets to touch you.”

She still didn’t respond, just gripping my shirt with her fingers, nails attempting to rip at the skin underneath.

I stopped, pulling her up and grabbing her hips, flipping her onto her stomach.

“Ass up, Princess.”

She eagerly followed command, getting up on all fours.

I pressed back in, leaning down onto her back so I could speak directly in her ear.

“You’re mine, you understand?”

She didn’t acknowledge me, so I wrapped a hand around her throat, pulling her up so her back was nearly flat against mine.

“Understand?”

She nodded frantically, and I let go. “God, Noah, it’s so fucking good.”

Her head was hanging between her shoulders, body nearly limp.

“Yeah? How good?” I let a hand fall hard on her ass, causing a loud slapping sound.

She screamed in surprise. “Fuck! So fucking good!”

Another slap.

“You miss me, baby?”

“Yes.”

Slap.

“Yes! Yes I missed you!”

“What did you miss, Princess?”

“This.”

Slap.

“Your cock.” Slap. “Fuck, Noah! I’m fucking close.”

“Oh? Going to come again?” Slap. “You fucking love being punished, don’t you?”

No response.

Slap.

“Yes, Noah! Fucking love it.”

“Good, good girl, Leena.”

Do I dare? We never got a chance to. But she was so fucking hot, so fucking relaxed. She only ever let me spank her and talk to her this way when she was at her most comfortable.

Deciding to try, I let my hand fall on her cheek one more time, but then let my fingers massage into the hot, red skin. With each swipe of my hand, I got closer to her hole, eventually letting my thumb swipe over it gently.

Her head snapped up in shock, her head looking back at me.

“Think you want to be a really good girl tonight, Princess?”

I slowed my thrusts, letting her think on this. My finger was pressed firmly to her now, massaging with light pressure.

“I haven’t, ever…”

Her voice was nervous, so I pulled my hand back, running it gently over her back.

“Hey,” She glanced back at me. “we definitely don’t have to. If it’s too much, just tell me.”

She bit her lip, and her hips pressed back into me, lifting her backside to where my hand was.

Oh, today is the best day ever.

Gently, and so carefully, after making sure my fingers were fully saturated with spit, I ran a hand over her ass, slipping my index finger inside, past an impossibly tight ring of muscle, and she gasped.

Not daring to move, I just let her adjust to the intrusion, and waited until I felt her begin to move again.

This went on for so long. Just adding slow and steady pressure, eventually slipping another finger in, while simultaneously thrusting into her.

“Oh God.” She moaned.

I stopped still. “Okay? Do I need to stop?”

She just shook her head. “It’s good.” Her eyes were squeezed shut, teeth grit together. “Real fucking good.”

I smiled, and pulled my fingers out of her. She whined, but I bent down again, my lips brushing at the crest of her ear. “Think I can try?”

She didn’t look at me or speak, only nodded in response.

Leaning back, I pulled out and nudged her gently. Like I had dreamt it, she pressed back into me, while I applied pressure, letting the head slip in, stars nearly exploding behind my eyes.

A hiss came out of her throat, so I stayed still, waiting. After a moment, she took a hard breath and nodded. “Go ahead.”

I pressed in further, trying to wrap my head around how fucking tight she was. Where her pussy was warm, soft, tight, and welcoming, this was…different. It was raw, rigid, animalistic, and fucking beautiful. Something inside of me nearly died when I felt the friction when I started to thrust.

The sounds coming from her were absolutely unbelievable. Nothing like it could ever compare.

“Fuck, Noah, oh my God.”

I picked up the pace, an instinct telling me we couldn’t stay like this too long. I was so fucking close.

“Touch yourself, Mileena.”

She didn’t even question, her hand reaching down to circle her clit, her body relaxing as she did.

It wasn’t but a fraction of a minute before I was nearly screaming, begging her to come. My release came as a free fall - no air, no gravity, just white hot fucking fire raging.

Her body began to spasm around me, pulling every last ounce of my orgasm out, before we both collapsed.

I pulled out of her gently, her body jerking at the sensation.

I laid next to her on the couch, staring into her eyes. Looking for any sign of discomfort or uneasiness.

All I saw was her love, her adoration. Every last fiber of her being pulsating.

I leaned over to her, my lips breathing her in before I lazily kissed her. She molded into me, tangling us together in a web of heat and sweat.

When we finally let ourselves breathe again, she nuzzled her nose against my neck.

“That was incredible.” Her voice was soft.

“There aren’t words.”

She chuckled. “So what does this mean?”

Shrugging, I tucked her in close to me. “I don’t even care anymore.”

“No?”

“Nah. It doesn’t need to be that deep.”

She stood up, then, and I stared at her, fearful I had said the wrong thing.

Seeing my concern, she smiled. “I’ve got to clean up.”

Smirking, I sat up. “Shower?”

#fanfic #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic

[bas-writes]

Relaxing Evening

Character: Izo Reader: gender neutral Word Count: 890 CW: domestic fluff, hair care (I tried to make it as neutral as possible but since every type of hair needs different treatment, it might not be accurate for all; I based it mainly on my experience with wavy, easy to tangle hair) A/N: back to the raffle posting, this time a thingie for @bepoprotectionsquad who asked for domestic mutual selfcare & relax with Izo and Reader. I'm here to deliver <3

“May I?” Izo nods towards the dressing table as soon as you drop the bathrobe on the chair next to the bed. You were sure he'd been long asleep, given he barely returned from a mission, but he’s been waiting for you instead, his eyes almost piercing you with pleading. 

You haven’t even agreed nor denied, and he’s already mid-action, reaching for the towel on your head. Leaning down—with a smile, it’s such a treat to be the one towering over him for once—you let him indulge and lead you into the magic time of spoiling. Despite impatience, his hands are gentle and precise; once he’s got you within his reach, he’s not rushing anymore, his attention swallowed whole by the task.

“Did something happen?” Hair and skin care, be it his or yours, are one of Izo’s favorite coping methods. If he’s so eager to do it for you, the need for a relief from something must be exceptionally itchy.

“Nothing worth worrying about,” he promises, kissing your temple. He’s not wearing his usual make up, lips free of lipstick are even softer and moister. “Just people tired.”

“New apprentices?”

“New apprentices.”

You take the book you’re currently reading from the night stand and nestle in your favorite way on the bed. Once Izo sets interest in your hair, you know you're in for a long session, far longer than you could possibly indulge in with selfcare. 

It’s relaxing—but also immobilizing. You’re appreciating his attack, though: you didn’t have much time for yourself as of late and the harsh sea conditions didn’t show mercy to your skin and hair. If you were to do it alone, you would probably skip the whole deal again, or shorten it to the absolute necessity for the sake of much needed sleep. Izo has never left his task half-assed—and the stubborn determination beaming from his face as he crawls to join you in your chosen spot only proves you’ll be in the best hands on this side of the Grandline.

He starts with fully drying your hair with a fresh towel until he’s satisfied with its moisture and texture. With a patience worthy of a saint, he untangles loose threads, until he’s sure he won’t pull and harm you, and even then he continues the inspection with such care as if he was treating a crumbling jewel. Then for a good moment he does nothing but taking a close look, judging what you need the most, and muttering to himself, frowning—as you learn with a quick, concerned look over your shoulder.

“Is it that bad?” You hope worry doesn’t show in your voice and doesn’t push him out of the zone.

“We’ve been through worse.” Frown changes into a smile and he kisses you again. “You need more moisture and some massages. They’re thinning out.”

You indeed were finding more stray hairs lately.

Trusting him and his judgment, you return to the book and lean more against him. Izo is not the most buff guy you know, but you can still feel the subtle flex of well-trained muscles whenever he moves, especially when he reaches for a new cosmetic. He’s steady and big enough for you to nestle comfortably, to enjoy the closeness and spoiling in an intimate, yet, non-disturbing and natural way. Your back seems to belong to his chest, resting against each other, as you both do what you desire without bumping in your ways.

He’s so skilled with his fingers it’s hard for you to focus on the book, though. When he starts massaging oil into the skin of your head, you need to take a break, your eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. The sweet, flowery scent of the balm and gentle rubs on your scalp simply melt you in his hands. You lean forward, humming and fighting the urge to rest closer against him.

You don’t want to ruin his work, to stop the amazing sensation.

“You’re almost purring.” Smile warmths his soothing voice. “Missed me?”

“So much,” your words are almost whining. You don’t want to sound so, so needy and demanding, but the mix of blessed relaxation and past draught of his touch take control over your reactions and expressions so easily.

“I’m sorry, I neglected you those last few weeks.” Tension runs through his fingers, he presses your skin with significantly more power—shortly, but enough for you to notice. 

He’s tired and frustrated—and has missed you as much as you have.

Gently, you lead his hands out of your hair, and turn to face him. His face fits between your palms so easily—and he yields to temptation, closing eyes and resting chin on your hands. 

“You didn’t neglect me.” You promise and kiss him, the sweet and soft taste of his lips so addictive, almost slipping you out of control again. “We’ve both been busy with our matters, but now we have lots of time to catch up. No sulking, alright?”

“No sulking.” Izo kisses your fingers before reaching for another moisturizing cosmetic and gesturing you to turn back around. 

“So—” you nestle cozy against him, your book abandoned this time— “tell me, what those idiot apprentices did this time?”

He somehow groans with mental pain and laughs at the same time. “This is going to be the longest list of complaints in my life.”

#izo x reader #izo x you #izo x y/n #izo scenario #izo imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece reader insert #bas writes #izo #gender neutral reader #5k raffle

[authorred]

Hell's Gate (Hemlock Grove) (Roman Godfrey x Fem!Reader)

Preface: We all know Olivia Godfrey only cares about herself and her legacy. Any threat to that is a threat to her. You, the person whom Roman loves, is a threat. So, she opts to get rid of you. Little does she and Roman know, you have your own secret.

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, general angst, cursing, reader isn't a baby bottom bitch in this, Roman having a breakdown, crying, some dark gifs to appeal to the edgy readers, etc..

Part 2 here Part 3 here Part 4 here Part 5 here

You knew the moment Olivia walked into the room you were in, alone, that she was going to try something. What that 'thing' was, you didn't know. A dig at your integrity, your intelligence, your lineage; who knows. That's how it always was between you two. Underneath the superficial layer of flowery words of flattery lied malice beyond human comprehension. You could tell from the instance you met her she didn't like you. Why? You were involved with Roman. In fact, he loved you. He loved you more than he feared her. She didn't like that.

So, when you were basically cornered by the predictably unpredictable woman in the Godfrey estate, you knew some shit was going to go down. She was a beautiful woman. It was a shame she was so ugly on the inside.

"Mrs. Godfrey," you greeted with a slight incline of your head. "Is there something you need?"

"Yes, actually." She came to stand in the middle of the parlor room, heels clicking against the polished wooden flooring. "Roman is out currently, and Shelley is resting right now. I would absolutely love it if you would join me on a walk."

You slowly stood up from the comfy chair with a wary gaze. "Through the estate? Or over a bridge?"

"That depends on whether I feel up to dragging you that far away from the house." She gave a tight smile before turning. "Still, I would love to get to know the girl my son seems to be so attached to."

You nodded. "Alright. If you insist." You pulled out your phone and sent a quick text to Roman, who was out meandering with Peter due to some dreams they had about the Vargulf.

'Your mother wants to take a walk with me. I don't like the way she's holding herself. I love you.'

Your message was delivered--and Roman normally texted back moderately quickly. However, this was the one time where he wouldn't be able to see your message in time.

You pocketed your phone and smiled at Olivia, who gave you one of her own. It was pleasant--her teeth straight and white--but the feeling she gave off greatly contradicted it.

The day was beautiful. A calm, autumn day. A crisp 60 degrees with a cool breeze. The fallen leaves crunched under your feet, varying shades of red, orange, and yellow. Olivia has not spoken to you once the entire time, and you weren't quick to start a conversation either. Roman still hadn't responded to you--nor had he actually read it. That was fine. You understood what he was doing was important. You could handle yourself. Probably. Maybe. You hoped.

"How well do you think you know my son?" She suddenly spoke, hands placed delicately in her trench coat pockets.

"Hm," you hummed. "I would like to think I know him well enough. Maybe not the best, but I know him better than my other friends."

"Is that so?" She murmured. "Do you think he loves you?"

You shrugged. "I don't think I have a right to speak on his feelings. Especially regarding me. It seems egotistical."

"You know, Y/n, Roman is a brilliant boy. He is my son, my flesh and blood."

"I'm aware of how basic biology works, yes. He very much looks like your son." You nodded. You may not have been as sharp as her, but with the wit you did have, you would use it at every chance.

"And as his mother, it's my job to make sure nothing gets in the way of his bright future."

You slowed your walking. "Do you think I'm a hindrance, Mrs. Godfrey?"

She matched your slowed pace and looked over her shoulder at you. "Well, I don't believe you to be a benefit. You're a distraction. Surely, you understand where I'm coming from. I just want what's best for him."

"And you don't think I'm one of those things that are 'best' for him?"

Olivia chuckled lowly, playing around with her leather gloves. "I believe that you will lead him astray from the path I've laid for him. That's all. It's nothing personal, truly Y/n. You're a lovely girl, I'm sure. When you're away from Roman."

You nodded slowly, sucking your teeth. "It feels personal." You looked around your surroundings. You were at the back of the estate's yard--the house itself was a good distance away. "Are we finishing our walk here, Mrs. Godfrey?" You asked, tilting your head. You gazed at her eyes with calm intent.

"You're truly not scared?" She asked, slowly removing her gloves. She no longer cared whether you knew or not. You would be the only one to, at least. Aside from her, but she's very good at keeping secrets.

You smiled lightly and stared at her hands. "I've come across scarier things than a narcissistic Upir."

Her lips twitched into a frown. "Then I suppose it's good that that'll be the last thing you come across."

~ Roman fell against the wall, entire body collapsing into itself. Peter didn't catch him in time, but he did attempt to keep Roman's body from crashing to the floor. A violent sob racked through the said man's body, face screwing up in pure agony.

"Roman? Hey--it's okay, buddy. It's okay," Peter soothed, not minding his best friend clinging to him currently. "I know. It's okay."

By the time Roman had read your text, you were already dead in a ditch somewhere; disembowled and dismembered. You were found there a few days later after your walk with Olivia. According to her, you went off on a walk after an unpleasant conversation with Olivia, to which she stayed behind in the house because of Shelly. There were no witnesses and no evidence left at the crime scene enough to create a concrete suspect list.

Olivia was the one who broke the news to Roman of your 'absence'. At first, he just thought you needed space from her--which was understandable. His mother was extremely suffocating, and if you're not used to her, it can quite literally kill you. Unfortunately for you, it did.

As expected, he took it poorly, and Peter had to give all of his energy to keep Roman from lashing out and hurting himself or hurting Olivia (no matter how much they both disliked her). Of course, it pained the older woman to see her son in pain (but let's be honest, she didn't care about the reason), so all she could do was swear to him that they'd find the person responsible for your murder.

Peter couldn't be with him 24/7, and the two boys still had school to deal with as well. Anger coursed through him 24/7, a thin film that kept the grief at bay. Peter knew what was going on, and Letha as well, as Peter had told her. Anyone else who had the misfortune of crossing Roman during that time was left in the middle of a whirlwind of anger and hurt.

"Roman," Peter called softly. "We both know Y/n didn't. . . just randomly die, right?"

Roman puffed out a cloud of cigarette smoke--the fourth one he's smoked that morning alone. He nodded solemnly, expression already screwing up. "No way," he chuckled bitterly. "That woman could punch anyone's lights out." He paused for a brief moment.

"Shit," he cursed, voice breaking and stumbling over itself. "I didn't even answer her text."

Peter nodded slowly, reaching over to pat Roman on the shoulder comfortingly. "It's not your fault. Y/n would've understood. She knew how important this was. It's not your fault." When Roman looked over to his friend, Peter just gazed steadily at him. "We got this, buddy. We'll find the person. And when we do, we'll kill them."

Roman nodded in agreement, sniffing. Both of them knew this wasn't something to come back from easily. If anyone knew Roman past the fuckboy, hard-ass image, they'd know he wouldn't move on--that nothing would, or could, replace the spot you took in his life and heart.

Dirt and mud were peeled away like a sheet of ice, uncovering the freshly dug hole in the ground. Flesh was spiked with shredded wood splinters and blood soaked through the pure white shirt. A hand came up through the ground to claw at the surrounding solid dirt. With a hefty, polyphonic grunt, you pulled yourself out of your shallow grave. With eyes blazing an angry red and a voice like a demonic choir, you uttered one single sentence,

"I'm going to fucking kill that bitch."

#fanfic writer #writers #writers of tumblr #writerslife #relationship #writers on tumblr #hemlock grove #peter rumancek #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey fanfiction #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey #bill skarsgard #female reader #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #romance #intimacy #loving #relationshipgoals #love #dating #romantic

[married2myphone]

Chapter Two: Sewing Circle

Life As The Avengers' House Keeper

Pairings: Platonic! Avengers x Female Reader

Tags & Warnings: humour, fluff, found family

Chapter Summary: The Avengers walk in on Y/n teaching Peter how to embroider for his Home Economics project, and they decide to spend the day with each other embroidering. Because why not?

Word Count: 3.3k

Tag List: @olsensnpm, @natasha-belova, @caroldanvers2

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

—

“Ow.” Peter muttered and Y/n rolled her eyes at the boy, leaning back on the couch and continuing with her embroidery.

“Ouch.” Y/n dropped her embroidery hoop with an exasperated sigh as she turned to Peter who was completely focusing on his own hoop.

“Peter, I told you that you could use the thimbles. There’s no shame.” Y/n said and Peter dropped his own hoop onto his lap and sent the older woman a sad look.

“But it looks stupid and they mess with my grip, so I keep dropping it.” Peter said and Y/n let out a sigh, shaking her head as she reached into the sewing kit (which really was just a cookie tin) and pulled out the small case of thimbles.

“It’s either that or you keep bleeding from your fingers cause you can’t aim the needle for shit. Now go on, pick whatever color you want.” Y/n said, shaking the box and handing it to Peter who let out a sigh but reluctantly got the red and blue thimbles, putting them on his fingers before continuing.

“Well, hello, grandmas. Do you guys want some tea and biscuits? Maybe some hard candy while you’re at it.” Tony said when he walked into the living room to see Peter and Y/n doing embroidery.

“Ha, ha, get some original jokes, why don’t you?” Y/n muttered, not looking up from her hoop.

“Mr. Stark, look! I’m making the Avengers logo.” Peter said, raising his embroidery hoop towards Tony with a proud look on his face.

He was still in the process of filling out his sketch and a lot of the stitching was very messy, some thread being loose, but it was a work in progress. Besides, it was Peter’s first attempt.

“Wow, looks just like it.” Tony said, barely even glancing at the embroidery, but Peter grinned anyway and went back to work.

“Look what I’m making.” Y/n said, raising her own hoop to show Tony with a proud smile on her face. It was a very flowery and pink middle finger.

“You have such talent.” Tony said with a roll of his eyes as he took his jacket that was laying on a chair.

“Thank you, I agree.” Y/n said as she went back to her own work. 

“Another home ecs project, Peter?” Natasha asked as she walked into the room, going over to a bookshelf and skimming through all the covers.

“Yep! I’m planning to make a few more after this so I can give some to Ned and MJ.” Peter said, poking his finger once more but was happy to see that the thimble he put on protected him.

“I don’t understand why a science school is teaching it's students how to embroider. Shouldn’t you be learning robotics or something?” Tony asked as he put his jacket on before looking for his keys. 

“Well, I think it’s great they’re giving you kids the chance to learn other skills. Hobbies are good so you don’t always put all your energy into work.” Y/n said and Peter looked up and smiled at the woman.

“Hey, speaking of hobbies! You should join me and Ned! We got this new lego set, and I was thinking-”

“Absolutely not. Get back to stitching.” Y/n said with a smile and Peter nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said and the two continued with their work. 

“How do you even have the patience to make all that? Isn’t it tedious?” Natasha asked after finally picking a book and sitting down on the couch as she watched the two continue their work.

“Most things are, but depending on the person, it can be relaxing.” Y/n said with a shrug and Peter nodded in agreement.

“I like it. It’s nice making pretty things and being able to say you made it.” Peter said and Natasha let out a hum, continuing to watch the two.

“Do you want to give it a shot, Nat?” Y/n asked after a few minutes of silence with Natasha just watching them.

“Sure, why not.” Natasha said with a shrug, setting down the book she didn’t end up reading. 

“I mean, how hard can it be?” Natasha said and Y/n smiled, grabbing the bag on the table and rummaging through it before taking out another embroidery hoop.

“What design do you want to make?” Y/n asked and Natasha furrowed her eyebrows in thought.

“I don’t know? Anything, I guess.” Natasha said and Y/n smiled and reached into the bag once more.

“I have some stencils. Pick one, sketch it out on the cloth, then tell me when you’re done. I’ll teach you how to thread a needle and some basic stitches.” Y/n said, handing all the materials to Natasha who let out a huff.

“I know how to thread a needle.” She mumbled as she looked through the stencils, picking out a design.

“Oh, god. Don’t tell me you’re becoming old like them.” Tony said in a disappointed tone when he walked back in to see that Natasha had joined in after finding his keys.

“Shush. Don’t listen to him, Nat. This will be a fun experience.” Y/n said, encouraging Nat who raised an eyebrow at her.

“It’ll be an experience, alright.”

“Well, while you grandmas waste your day creating pictures with thread, I’m going out socializing. You know, like a normal adult.” Tony said and the three gave lazy goodbyes as Tony left.

Y/n developed a hobby for embroidery during that time when she was on the run. She was in a park sitting next to an old woman who was crocheting something. Y/n hadn’t paid her any mind until the woman made conversation, saying she could tell that Y/n needed a distraction.

She offered to teach her how to crochet, and Y/n accepted. Though it seemed like crochet was a bit too advanced, because Y/n’s frustrations got the better of her. Y/n thought she had driven the poor old woman away, but the next day, she found her on the same bench with an embroidery kit. 

She taught Y/n and gave it to her as a gift, and Y/n has been embroidering to pass the time and keep her calm ever since. When Peter came up to her and asked her if she knew anything about embroidery, she was absolutely delighted and couldn’t wait to teach the boy everything she knew.

Leading to now.

“Brucey, join us!” Y/n called out happily when she saw Bruce walk in carrying a box of a bunch of things she didn’t care about. 

“Oh, are you guys embroidering? That looks fun, but I’m a bit busy right now.” Bruce said, emphasizing the box in his hands.

“Come on, you’ve been working all day. Take a break, you can continue whatever you’re doing later. Maybe this time you’ll finish your last piece.” Y/n said, her words grabbing the attention of Natasha and Peter.

“Last piece?” Natasha asked in confusion.

“Dr. Banner, do you embroider too?” Peter asked in excitement and the scientist smiled sheepishly.

“Just recently. Y/n taught me, told me it was a good stress reliever.” Bruce said and Y/n grinned at him.

“And it works, right?” Y/n asked and Bruce laughed as he nodded his head.

“You know what? Sure, I’ll join you guys. Let me just put this away, I’ll be back in a sec.” Bruce said as he walked back and Y/n smiled happily. 

A few minutes passed and Bruce came back with these cartoonishly large glasses on his face that magnified his eyes to make it look incredibly large.

“What?” Bruce asked, furrowing his eyebrows when Peter was shaking, trying desperately to hold his laugh while Natasha was looking away, hand covering her mouth to hide the smile and potential laugh bubbling up. 

“What in the hell are you wearing?” Bruce jumped when a voice appeared behind him. He turned to see Bucky who was looking at him in confusion while Sam was next to him, laughing his ass off as he held onto the wall to keep himself up.

“Oh my god, that is the best thing I’ve ever seen. Smile!” Sam said, taking his phone out and wrapping his arm around Bruce’s shoulder and taking a selfie with him, giving a thumbs up with his tongue sticking out before taking the photo.

“Give him a break. Bruce, I think you look great and you’re very practical.” Y/n said and Bruce smiled happily at the girl.

“Thank you, Y/n.” He said, walking over to the three on the couch and setting himself down, taking out his unfinished embroidery and grabbing a hoop from the bag on the table. 

“Ooh, is this a knitting circle or something?” Sam asked, situating himself behind the couch and looking at whatever the four were doing. 

“Embroidering, actually. See, knitting is really different from embroidery, but they have similarities like-”

“Okay, kid. A simple no would have been fine.” Sam cut off Peter from rambling.

“Would you two gentlemen like to join us?” Y/n asked, looking at the two who glanced at each other.

“I’ll pass. I don’t think I’d be any good at it.” Bucky said and Y/n waved her hand dismissively in response.

“Of course you can’t see yourself being good at it now, you don’t know anything about it at all. But if you try, you could surprise yourself.” Y/n said and Bucky shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

“It just seems like such a… Delicate thing. And I’m not.” Bucky said and Y/n pouted at the statement. 

“Nonsense, man. Come on, get your sewing pants on, we’re gonna do some stitching.” Sam said, grabbing Bucky’s shoulders and leading the reluctant man over to the couch.

“Really?” Natasha raised an eyebrow at Sam’s willingness.

“Yeah, why not? Besides, I want to make what Y/n’s making.” Sam said, pointing to Y/n’s embroidery which caused the girl to grin and sit up, high fiving the man who laughed.

“What do you say, Bucky?” Y/n asked, turning to the man who still looked hesitant. But seeing the encouraging looks on everyone’s face that was directed towards him made him sigh. 

“Fine. But it’s not gonna be good.” He said reluctantly as he sat down next to Sam.

“We’ll just have to wait and see. Now, pick a stencil.” Y/n said, taking a bunch of stencils and spreading them out on the table. 

They were all silently embroidering, occasionally making comments and asking Y/n for help, but it was mostly peaceful. Y/n glanced over at Nat who had been continuously huffing the past fifteen minutes.

When she looked over, she saw that Nat was actually blowing her hair out of her face. Every time she tried though, it kept falling back, and it was irritating her to no end. When Nat realized that someone was staring at her, she raised her head and furrowed her eyebrows at Y/n who was smiling at her.

“What?” She asked and Y/n simply reached back into the bag on the table and took out a black headband.

She got up from where she was sitting and kneeled in front of Natasha, about to put the headband on her when the woman flinched and grabbed her wrists to stop her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and Y/n rolled her eyes.

“Helping you. Your hair is obviously bothering you, and this will help keep it out of your face. Just look at me and Bruce.” Y/n said.

It was then that Natasha finally took notice of both of their appearances. Y/n’s hair was in a bun with a garter used as a headband keeping her hair back while Bruce had one of those large toothy hair clips holding his hair. She hadn’t noticed that because the huge goggles were distracting.

“Come on. It’ll help you work better, and you’ll look pretty while doing it.” Y/n said and Natasha stared at the girl for a moment before sighing and taking the headband and putting on.

“Better?” Y/n asked with a teasing smile on herself. Nat looked away and nodded in embarrassment. Y/n didn’t want to push it, so she just patted Nat’s shoulder and went back to her seat.

“We had headbands this whole time? I’ve been trying to push my hair away for the past few hours.” Peter said when he saw the headband on Natasha’s head.

“Don’t worry, Peter. I have more.” Y/n said, reaching into the bag again and taking out a soft cotton headband that had bunny ears on them.

“Oh, nice!” Peter said, catching the headband when Y/n threw it and eagerly putting it on.

“How do I look?” Peter asked, raising his arms out and Y/n smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

“You look great, buddy.” Y/n said and Peter smiled once more. 

“Hey, that’s not fair. I want a headband that makes me look pretty too.” Sam said when he noticed almost everyone had something to keep their hair in order.

“As pretty as you already are, Sam, I’m afraid a headband won’t do that much for you.” Y/n said, patting Sam’s head and the man rolled his eyes.

“How bout you, Bucky? Want to feel pretty?” Sam asked, nudging the man with his elbow which caused him to grunt because it made him poke himself with the needle.

“I’m good. My hair’s short enough that it isn’t distracting.” He said and Y/n nodded and they all went back to what they were doing.

“Is there a meeting we weren’t told about or something?” Everyone looked up to see the twins walk into the room with both a confused and amused look on their faces.

“It’s rare to see everyone in the same room like this. Especially with everyone… Embroidering?” Wanda asked, not sure how to feel about the sight before her.

“You guys formed a little club and didn’t even think to inform us about it?” Pietro asked with an offended gasp, placing a hand on his chest with a dramatic hurt look on his face.

“You’re very much welcome to join us if you guys want to. There’s plenty of room for everyone.” Y/n said with a smile and the twins glanced at each other before looking back at them.

“Eh, sure.” Wanda said with a shrug, going over to join them.

“I have no plans.” Pietro said, following after his sister.

“Here.” Y/n said, reaching into the bag and pulling out two hair ties which she handed to the siblings.

“You guys might need it.” The two looked around to see that everyone else had their hair up and before taking the hair ties without another thought.

Wanda tied her hair into a tight ponytail while Pietro pulled back the top part of his hair and tied it off before sitting down.

“What else do you have in that bag, Y/n?” Bruce asked, finally taking note of how much Y/n pulled out from that bag in the span of such a short time.

“It’s never ending. There’s a black hole inside; I reach in, and it gives me whatever I need.” Y/n said, wiggling her arms mysteriously at Bruce who chuckled and shook his head.

A few more minutes passed by with everyone doing their embroidery. They didn’t realize it yet, but they were all very much enjoying this time just embroidering with everyone even though they weren’t speaking. But Y/n noticed, and she couldn’t stop the constant smile on her face because of it.

“Pietro, give me the red thread. You’ve been hogging it this whole time.” Wanda said in an annoyed tone, slapping her brother’s arm.

“But I need it!” Pietro complained and Wanda rolled her eyes.

“Then take what you need, but don’t hog it! I need to use it too.” Wanda said and Pietro gestured over to the amount of thread on the table.

“There are so many red over there, take one of those and get off my ass about it.” Pietro said, shoving his sister’s head away.

“I need that specific shade!” Wanda said, shoving her brother back.

“Y/n, is this okay?” Bucky asked, ignoring the rowdiness of the twins as he showed Y/n his work. The girl looked up from her hoop and gasped when she saw Bucky’s.

“Bucky, this is so pretty! I didn’t even teach you how to outline, but you did so good! See, if you never tried this out, you would’ve never found out you had this talent in you. You’re a natural.” Y/n complimented with a proud smile and Bucky sent the girl a small smile of his own before going back to finish his flower.

“What about mine, Y/n? You think it’s cool?” Sam asked, showing Y/n the pizza he was making on his.

“Oh, did you think of that on your own? I don’t think I have that stencil. Good job, I love creativity!” Y/n said, patting Sam on the shoulder and giving him a grin which made the man smile happily.

“Hear that? I’m creative.” Sam said to Nat who let out a light chuckle in response.

When the front door creaked open, everyone stopped what they were doing and their eyes fell on their team leader who walked in with a tired look on his face, hanging his keys on the rack and taking off his jacket.

Realizing the silence, Steve turned to the living room, shocked to see that everyone was gathered together… With their hairs tied up and embroidering? They all stared at each other and Steve simply shook his head and approached everyone. 

They watched as the man sat down with a huff and reached to grab the bag on the table, looking inside and ruffling through it before taking out two blue and red hair clips with sequences and butterflies on them. They watched as the man put them in his hair in wonder before he grabbed some cloth and an embroidery hoop of his own.

“Pass the blue thread, please.” He said and just like that, everyone went back to what they were doing. Y/n passed the thread that Steve needed and gave the man a smile which he thankfully returned.

“Long day?” She asked and a small laugh left Steve’s mouth.

“You could say that.” Steve said and Y/n gave him a supportive smile, patting his leg before leaning back into the couch. 

“No. No. No.” Everyone looked up when Tony walked into the compound, disappointed that Y/n had managed to convince everyone to join her little sewing circle.

“God, how old are you people? It’s a Friday night, the world is quiet, and instead of drinking and having fun, you’re all embroidering.” Tony said and they all stared at him for a moment before swiftly ignoring him.

“Steve, knock some sense into these people for me, would you?.” Tony said, trying his best to ignore the shiny hair clips in Steve’s hair.

“If you can’t beat them, join them, Tony. Try it, you might like it.” Steve said with a shrug, continuing his work and showing it to Natasha who nodded in approval before showing Steve her own work. 

Tony let out a scoff in disbelief, watching as everyone continued to do their embroidery. They were a team of the most dangerous people on Earth, meant to be protectors of the world. Yet here they were, wasting time and-

“Oh, whatever.” Tony said with a roll of his eyes as he went over to sit on the floor because the couch was full, grabbing an embroidery hoop of his own and starting with his own work.

Y/n hid the smile on her face as she looked around her, watching everyone be too focused in their embroidery to notice she was staring. This was nice. Y/n wished they had more moments like these. But instead of wishing for more, she’ll just enjoy what she already has.

#avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #mcu x reader #tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #bruce banner x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #peter parker x reader #sam wilson x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #bucky barnes x reader

[127tyong]

Candy

Pairing: Jaemin X Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst

Warnings: the ending's depressing, im sorry

Word Count: 2.6k

"His fresh, flowery scent that tickled my nose, alongside his warmth, all reminded me of spring, and that's why I loved him."

Part 1 of 4: Spring - Candy

"Ugh, I really am just… so tired." Your best friend, Jaemin, was whining as you attempted to teach him how to solve the math problem on the paper. The homework assignment was only half completed, and it was due that afternoon.

At the time, you were the top student, so everyone went to you for help, especially Jaemin. "Well, you're the one that wanted to go into med school." You scoffed, half helping Jaemin, and half doing everything for him.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Jaemin cried out. Jaemin's desk chair was spun around to face you, the only thing between the two of you was your desk and the homework.

"Depends on if you can answer this." You scoffed, your head resting on your hand, elbow on the desk, forcing the gap between you and Jaemin to become even smaller as he hunched over your desk to solve the problem.

You noticed the fresh smell of Jaemin's shampoo, and the way it made your heart feel ticklish, and you realized that you wanted to touch his pretty black hair.

Your daydream ended when Jaemin shoved the paper in your face, showing you the answer.

"Oh wow!" You exclaimed, taking the paper from his hands. "You're actually right!"

"Why'd you have to say it like that?" He groaned, slamming his pen onto the desk.

"Good boy." You pet his hair as Jaemin nuzzled his head into your hand like a cat. "You did well. Now, finish the rest of your homework yourself."

"You're so mean." Jaemin stood up, opening the classroom door "I'm going to go to the bathroom." 

"Just know I tried to help you!" You yelled at him, half serious and half joking.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a fucking saint!" Jaemin yelled back, slamming the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes to Jaemin's actions, his paper still on your desk, his pen in your hand. As you clicked the pen, you thought about the way he treated you. You knew he liked you, at least to some extent, his blushing ears unable to hide behind his short hair. The only real question was if he was ever going to ask you out, or if he was going to force you to make the first move…

A pile of items falling onto your desk snapped you out of your thoughts, a pile of peppermint candy hitting the desk with a thud. 

"I forgot to give you these earlier." Jaemin giggled, his smile going up to his eyes. 

"Peppermint?" You took the wrapped off the candy, biting into the hard shell of minty sweet, the candy breaking into a million pieces that dissolved onto your tongue as it mixed into your saliva. 

"I have some left over from Christmas." Jaemin chuckled, returning to his seat, taking his pen back from you.

"Gross." You gagged, it being April at this point.

"Hey, this stuff doesn't expire for like, a year!" Jaemin returned to his homework, spinning his pen in his fingers.

"That's… wrong. That's so wrong." You swallowed the remains of the candy.

"Hey! It's still good!" Jaemin pouted over his candy.

"I'm talking about your solution. You don't even remember the basic formulas?" You pointed at the problem.

"Oh." Jaemin deadpanned.

"I think you need a tutor at this point." You sighed.

"Would you tutor me?" Jaemin looked up at you with puppy eyes, pouting.

"Absolutely not." You grabbed your phone out of your bag. "Study hall is almost over, by the way."

"Fuck!" Jaemin scribbled some random numbers on the paper.

The teacher entered the classroom. "Jaemin, turn your chair around and stop bothering the poor girl." 

"I'm not bothering her! Tell him!" He whined at you.

"Thanks, Mr. Lee." You scoffed in reply.

"Mhm." Mr. Lee mumbled. "I'm starting class now."

"Why are you looking at me!" Jaemin looked at the teacher, appalled. "I'm not the only one being a bother."

"Psst, Jaemin." You whisper-yelled. "Look around. You're literally the only one being disruptive." Everyone around you two was giggling at Jaemin, his reputation as the class clown not preceding him. 

Jaemin sat properly in his seat. "Sir, I'm ready." Laughter erupted from the classroom for a few seconds from Jaemin's remark.

"Great, I'm glad you decided to join us."

~

"I need you to tutor me tonight." Jaemin ran after you as you left the school.

"Can't. I'm busy." You ignored him, your pace speeding up. It's not like you didn't like Jaemin, it's more of the fact that you didn't want to have to be alone with him.

"With what?" Jaemin grabbed your arm, his fingers interlocking yours.

"Jaemin, I have a life." You scoffed. "Besides, finals are soon, so I have to study for that."

"Study with me then!" Jaemin pulled on your arm. At this point, it would only be 10 seconds before he actually got on his knees and begged.

"Fine, only after school Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. The other days I have to study." You scoffed. "And only at your house."

~

"I'm home!" Jaemin shouted as he opened the front door. "I'm joking. No one's home."

You rolled your eyes, taking your shoes off. "When are your parents coming home?" You sat at the dining room table, putting your bag on the seat to your right, Jaemin sitting on your left. 

"Maybe around 8 pm?" Jaemin slammed his bag on the table.

"Okay, so you need help with your college calculus class…" You mumbled, pulling out your notebook.

Jaemin's head fell on your shoulder, closing his eyes. "I'm sleepy, let me nap for a second."

"Nope." You scoffed, taking Jaemin's homework out of his bag. "Let's start with Lesson One."

"You're evil." Jaemin wrapped his arms around you, making your heart race faster. You hoped Jaemin couldn't hear your heart pounding out of your chest, his head dangerously close to your heart.

You pushed him off you. "Hey, I don't have to be here."

"Fine, fine." Jaemin rolled his eyes. "You don't really like me, do you?"

"Don't be stupid, I wouldn't be here if I didn't think we were friends." You scoffed. "I just don't want you to fail."

"That's true…" Jaemin sitting up properly. "Do you want something to eat or drink? When are you leaving?"

"If you cook me dinner, I'll stay until your parents get home." You suggested. 

"Sounds great." Jaemin scooted his chair up to you, his thigh touching yours. You felt like you could faint at any second, your shoulders touching.

"Okay, should we actually start studying?" You tried to ignore the way his hand touched yours as he copied your notes, or the way his thigh rubbed against yours as he bounced his leg up and down.

"I thought you knew I didn't really want to study." Jaemin whined, suddenly grabbing you by your waist. "Can't we just watch a movie and hang out?"

"Ugh, I guess we can for an hour, we'd still have around 3 hours left… oh, and an hour for dinner… You're lucky that finals week isn't for 3 more weeks." You pondered the pros and cons of taking a break, then finally realizing how stressed out you actually were.

Jaemin pushed to sit closer to you than he already was, his arm around your shoulders, your head naturally falling onto his shoulder. "What should we do?"

"Anything." You scoffed. "I mean, we'll end up talking anyways."

"Speaking of talking… Why did you agree to help me?" Jaemin faced you, giving you direct eye contact.

You sighed, removing Jaemin's arm off you. "Why do you think I did?"

"You… We…" Jaemin mumbled, trying to think of anything.

"You're lucky you're pretty." You scoffed.

"You think I'm pretty?" Jaemin wrapped both arms around you, squeezing you and forcing you onto his lap.

"Can we just do our homework?" You groaned, not 100% knowing how to feel.

"Fine…" 

The rest of the night was spent with Jaemin's clinginess never really stopping, his scent and warmth never leaving your side.

~

"There you are!" Jaemin called after you as you entered your classroom.

"What…" You groaned, feeling like Jaemin forcing you to stay with him this entire week.

And he did, every single day he'd sit in front of you.

But this time, it was different.

Another girl was sitting in the seat you sit in, Jaemin sitting in front of her, facing her.

You felt like your heart shattered into a million pieces. Like your boyfriend cheated on you… But he wasn't yours. You thought he liked you. You rationalized your emotions, his friendliness had to have meant he liked you, right? A veil lifted from over your eyes as you realized he treats everyone the way he treated you. It was just the fact that this week, it was you. You were the girl he played around with this week.

You bit your lip and went up to him. "Oh, hi Jaemin! And you're Haeun, right?"

She nodded, looking you in the eye. Her cheeks were bright red, visible even under her concealer, the way she leaned in to talk to Jaemin similar to the way you did just a few days ago.

"Hi!" He grabbed your waist and pulled you close to him, his head on your stomach. "Are you coming to my house tonight?"

"I don't know… It's Friday, don't you have plans?" You tried to get Jaemin off you, looking at Haeun.

"Actually, Jaemin, I was going to ask you if you wanted to hang out tonight…" Haeun smiled at Jaemin.

"Oh… well, you couldn't have known this, but she and I actually have a thing…" Jaemin smiled back at her.

"We really just study together…" You mumbled, trying to make it not seem like a big thing.

"Oh." Haeun stood up. "I'll just get back to my seat then."

"Wait, Haeun…" Jaemin called after her. "What's she upset about?" Jaemin looked up at you.

"You're so… dumb." You scoffed, tossing your bag down and taking your seat.

"Well? Tell me!" Jaemin pouted.

You rolled your eyes, questioning if Jaemin was stringing you along or if he likes you at all. "She likes you. Can't you see it?"

"Uh… no." Jaemin laughed, grabbing your arm from across the desk.

You felt like your world was suddenly shattering all over again. Realizing he would never like you unless you told him plainly, you had to think of a plan to ask him out…

~

"That's… wild." You looked at the practice sheet Jaemin finished. "You actually got all of them right?"

"You don't have to look so surprised!" Jaemin leaned on your shoulder.

"Wow, I might actually have to give you a present!" You gave Jaemin a hug. "Did you cheat?"

"Oh, shut up!" Jaemin scoffed. "I tried so hard!"

You laughed, Jaemin's hand in yours. "What do you want?"

"A kiss?" Jaemin did a kissing motion with his lips.

You kissed his cheek, your hand on his shoulder, hugging him. "Is that good enough?"

"No." Jaemin leaned in, kissing your lips. 

You could taste the peppermint candy on his lips and his soft hair in between your fingers. It was perfect, you couldn't have asked for a better kiss, or a better man…

But something was heavy on your mind.

"Jaemin." You pulled away. "What about Haeun?"

"Sh…" His head fell onto your shoulder, his lips close to your neck, breath tickling you. "Don't worry. Now, you've never been in my bedroom, right?"

And just like that, you were on Jaemin's bed, his tongue swirling around your mouth, your shirt pulled up, Jaemin's hands fiddling with your bra, removing it.

"You're so pretty." Jaemin breathed into your ear. "So, so pretty."

"You're so wet… Have you been dreaming about this day like I have?" Jaemin rubbed your clit, fingers slowly going inside you with an embarrassingly loud squelching sound.

You couldn't handle the tension anymore, deciding you wanted to really show Jaemin how much you like him. "Put it inside me." You looked him in the eye, cradling his head in your hands. "Do it."

"No foreplay?" Jaemin slid his belt off, unzipping his pants. "If that's what you want…" You stared at his cock, precum dripping, rock hard in his hands.

"I'm sure, I want you…" You pulled your panties off, tucking your knees to your chest.

"Stop teasing me, Jaemin…" You cried out, covering your face with your hands as your thighs shook from all the teasing.

Jaemin pushed your hands away to give you one last kiss on your lips before sliding his tip inside you. "Good girl, you take it so well."

"I can take it all." You cried out, not quite feeling full yet.

His lips made their way back to your lips to muffle your screams as he shoved the rest of his length into you. You began to love the taste of peppermint on your tongue as Jaemin kept his lips on yours as he thrusted into you, his whiny breaths escaping onto your tongue, your own moans muffled as well. You grabbed his silky hair, pulling it as he sped up.

He pulled away a second to bite into your neck, leaving bitemarks and hickeys on your skin. 

"Jaemin…" You whined, about to tell him to stop, but ending up not speaking. You figured that this was the way it was always going to be, that Jaemin would always leave you marked up… "Harder."

"Of course." His teeth sank into your skin deeper, fingers circling on your clit.

You felt so overpowered, overstimulated, overused. You almost felt like you were dick-drunk. You had to have been crazy, the way your eyes rolled back and drool trickled out of your mouth. It felt almost too good, like Jaemin was drugging the candies he gave you. So, unnaturally good, to the point your thighs were shaking as they wrapped around Jaemin's waist and your arms kept Jaemin's body close to yours.

"Baby…" Jaemin brought you down to earth. "I'm cumming."

And you felt yourself reach your own high. You almost felt numb, sweaty but shaking, crying but with a smile on your face. Your womb felt warm, full of cum, Jaemin's cum, and it made you so happy you could cry all over again. 

"I love you, Jaemin." You choked out.

He pulled out, sitting on the bed next to you. "My bathroom's over there… If you want to take a shower."

You figured Jaemin didn't hear you… Or maybe it was too soon. You grabbed Jaemin's hand. "Hold me." 

You pulled the sheets over your body, debating if you should stay or not. You knew that if he loved you, he wouldn't have done that… You grabbed your stuff, getting dressed.

"I'm…" Jaemin stood up. "I'm going to go shower, if you don't want to."

You felt like you got slapped in the face. "Jaemin."

He ignored you, going into the bathroom. You heard the water start running.

And you walked home.

With every step you took, you felt Jaemin's cum pooling into your panties, hot and sticky. When you got home, you immediately threw your clothes into the washing machine, just washing that one outfit. You sat on the floor, the vibration of the machine on your back, feeling so dirty, violated, blindsided.

You pulled yourself together, forcing yourself to believe that Jaemin would never hurt you, that he just didn't know how to react… Anything other than this.

The weekend came and went without a text from Jaemin.

And the school week started.

The marks on your neck never faded, and you didn't bother to cover them. 

You opened the door to your classroom, and you felt all eyes shift to you.

Haeun was in the seat you typically sat in, with Jaemin in front of her, and peppermint candy in her mouth.

Alt Ending

#nct smut #nct fanfic #nct dream smut #jaemin smut #nct x reader #'00 smut

[punk-in-docs]

🕷Head Over Heels🕷

Eddie Munson x Reader, One Shot

7.6k Words.

Summary: “Actually, I uh, I think we might have some new stuff, in the back.”

Eddies stunning grin gets your knees trembling weak.

“Might?” His resulting grin absolutely melts you. Oh that playful tone of his dropped right into your panties and got you good.

“Definitely. No we, definitely, have some new stuff in the back.” You decide quickly. You nod and laugh at your own dense stupidity.

Or;

The one where Eddie comes to visit you at the record store where you work. You end up making out in the storage room.

Anyone who stepped inside Nirvana Records could definitely attest to one very salient thing; it sure had texture.

An independently run store wedged between the parade of mom-and-pop businesses on Franklin Boulevard. As soon as the creaking door was shoved open, the atmosphere of this place seeped out to the doormat like water.

Tacky warm plastic of cassettes and musty paper from old vinyl sleeves smack like a wall as you come in. You couldn’t escape it.

It was decidedly more gross before you started working here, and you helped Sal tidy up this hole, dragging the place into the 1980’s.

It used to smell like an armpit that had smoked a dozen stale cigarettes. Draped in orange and seventies decor, with crappy sharp patchouli incense burning away in an ashtray, and hippy acid swirled Peace-Love posters poorly slapped all over the walls. A sad display of second hand tattered vinyl’s limp on the racks

You don’t know how you got the grouchy bastard to update, but somehow the fact that he made more money off the ‘new wave shit’ seemed to slowly evolve his mind.

You spent many a painful Saturday in here sorting and cataloguing genres, and desperately phoning around music wholesalers out of state. Finding entire armfuls of posters of Elvis, The Kinks, or the Beatles for pennies at the dollar store to just liven up the bullseye-red walls.

You’ve put your touch to this place. There’s no doubt about it. In the gold twinkle lights you tacked around the counter and some strung across the ceilings or along the backs of the racks.

The heartthrob red paint to pack a punch beating off every wall. The blue neon light sign of the store name you made him shell out for behind the till. It’s a bohemian space full of old layered rugs and vintage posters and it lends itself well to such a lived in feel now a bit of effort and time has been spent on it.

Music is eternally threaded through the air from the stereo sat by the till counter. Guitars of all shapes and sizes line the walls for sale. Acoustic, electric, and - much to your shame - some banjos too. Though thankfully you’ve never sold one.

There’s cassettes in the front. Vinyl in the back. The place isn’t huge and it’s rammed with narrow aisles of so much choice. Current music posters and vinyl’s fight for space up on the walls. Bruce Springsteen, Metallica, Wham!, Madonna and Bowie. The place is wall to wall sound.

When you duck into the place on Tuesday the sun is warm on the back of your neck, sweat skating down your skin, as the bell hooked over the door tinkled all bright with your arrival. Not that it did much to announce you to your boss. You clutch your car keys in your hand and wind through the aisles.

You’re not at all surprised by the deafening waterfall-fluid riff of Hendrix, and his psychedelic Red House filling up the air. You take your bag off your shoulder and head for the till.

You round the counter and your boss is to be found in his usual spot. Lanky frame all bones and sharp knees, swallowed up into the sagging leather chair squared onto a matted old wine-red flowery rug, just out of sight behind the counter.

He’s sat there being his usual slothful self in a silvery cloud of camel smoke. Inspecting the B side of a Jethro Tull.

He looked like a Fleetwood Mac roadie had a collision a Carnaby street throwback.

One leg bent onto the other. Those ridiculous Cuban heel boots on as per. Acid washed jeans, his rusty suede fringed jacket, and a faded Rolling Stones red lips tee hanging off his torso. Peace sign pendant sat on his craggy sternum over the shirt.

His usual blue and grey tie dye bandana pasted his stringy grey hair back from his forehead. Blue round-rim John Lennon glasses always perched on his aquiline nose. Cig burning low, stuck stubby between his lips.

He barely flicked his eyes to you as you came in. So used to your presence here, it was second nature. Never mind the fact this old hippy moved so slowly sometimes you think he was at serious risk of growing moss.

The smoke-grey record store cat, Ziggy, sat like the fat little lump she was on the counter. Getting fur all over a stack of vinyls. She flicked her yellow eyes across to you and twitched her tail as you stroked her head. She often sat stretched across the racks or tables. Fell asleep on the vinyls until someone had to nudge her aside in order to take a look.

You place your bag under the shelf at the bottom, wincing at the volume he has the stereo turned too.

“Are you trying to damage what little scrap of hearing you have left?” You ask him over the reduced din.

He acts like you hadn’t even spoken. Not maliciously. You could never be entirely certain what sunk in with him. It was 50/50 he was even listening. He dropped so much acid in the 60’s you’re amazed he’s still coherent at all.

“There was no one like Hendrix playing live, man, nothing.” He plucks his cigarette out his mouth and gestures towards you. Stating a point of fact. Speaking through smoke. “No one held the crowd like he could. He could transport you-“

That was his odd sort of way of saying hello. Bounce straight into a conversation about music. No niceties, no nothing. It usually ended up in you both taking unsubtle potshots at each other.

“Voodoo Child is better.” You argue back as you pick up the hefty box for restocking. Sal doesn’t bother with it. You turn your back and walk through the stacks. Thumbing through the new stuff. Little Walter, The Who, Rick James, The Zombies. Some Nina Simone blues.

“You’re a little late by the way.” He called at you. Now abandoned the album and nose deep into one of his obscure folk music magazines. Something about Woody Guthrie. He wasn’t partially paying attention.

“Class ran over.” You offer back. Slotting the blues albums into their alphabetised spaces. Neatening what had been messed up yesterday.

You weren’t gonna blab to Sal that the reason you were late it cause you hared it at such an illegal speed home.

Or, that it took you a clammy filled half hour after a shower rushing around like a mental patient, trying to choose what to wear in an attempt to appear effortless but totally cool. You didn’t want to dress for someone else, but you had to admit you weren’t sure your usual thrown-this-on look would be appealing to the eye.

You ended up on your boot cut jeans and green sneakers. You slick perfume on your wrists and behind your ears. A honey yellow bottle of scent Mom bought you back from her trip to Spain once.

You settled finally on a cute and fairly clingy violet ribbed sweater that was actually your mom’s too. You scooped your hair back again. Into a claw clip and had to rush out the door to make it here on time.

Linda almost tore your meniscus in your knee the way she nudged you to stop the nervous bouncing of your leg under the table in class this afternoon. Last period.

Jesus Christ, you’re so wired and twitchy today. What’s up your ass?

I swear there’s like, a jar of rat poison or snake venom where your heart should be.

She then bit your head off for the way your pencil eraser was tap-tap-tapping against your books as you kept your eyes glued to the clock hands in the classroom.

“You done something different with your hair, kid?” He calls through the store to you. His eyes still turned towards the mag.

You stop in your tracks. Turn back to him with the stack in your arms. You fidget a little. “Just-trying something out.” You blush.

You didn’t realise it was that obvious that you’d dressed up for your sort-of-not-really-a-date.

Sal peers at you over his blue specs. Knowing grey eyes piercing deep into you. You feel like you’ve been busted. Goddamn the guy.

He barely notices when you walk into a room and say his name ten times, voice migrating into a shout. But he’s a human fucking bloodhound for sniffing out when something minutely small about you has changed even slightly. It’s uncanny and as wildly strange as the rest of him.

You’re not in your paint scuffed jeans or your usual dressed down tees and plaid. Tonight, dare he say it, you look -altered. Dressing up all prettier than you usually do. Tight top. Ass hugging jeans.

“For a boy?” He asks. No hint of shame in his tone. He doesn’t even look phased by the fact.

You flounder in knowing how to answer.

“Or is it a girl? That’s cool too, man.” He states easily.

Glossing over the fact Sal would be totally cool with the fact you could come out as gay, you answer him with the actual truth.

“Maybe there’s a guy.” You answer.

One thin grey brow hooks up his forehead. Encouraged you on.

“He might be coming by tonight.” You offer trying to sound casual about it. You do hope Eddie will be swinging by. He’s theatric and manic, sure, but you hope he’s the type to stick to a arrangement when he’s made one. You pray he doesn’t flake cause that will be a huge downer for your night that’s got you so edgily excited.

“A guy?” He checks.

“A guy.” You repeat.

“A guy.” He nods. Getting the point. 

There’s a beat of silence. He nods and makes an impressed face. Looking down at the magazine flopped open in his hands. He drags his cigarette slowly. Shakes flecks of ash off the glossy pages.

“I thought you hated all the guys at your school?”

“I do.” You say as you slot the Police cassette back to its rightful place in the P’s. Moving Queen’s ‘The Game’ out the way.

“You’re always going on about that Laura friend of yours and her idiot jockstrap.” He sniffs as he reads.

“Linda.” You correct. He was terrible with names. He’d taken three years to learn yours. And even now he still called you kid, or man.

“… and that every boy at your school is plucked straight from a JC Penny catalogue of unoriginal bullshit.” He quoted you directly.

“They are.” You smile at your own little quip of all those boring guys at your school. The ones who followed norms and never dared do to think or do anything different.

“What’s this kid like then?” He asks.

You think how best to sum up Eddie. You see him in your minds eye. Smiling that stunning grin at you across the school lot yesterday. The way that made your skin prickle with fiery heat.

Flickering smell of smoke caught in his dark jacket. Sunk into his shirt. The bourbon eyes that dipped right into yours and left you stunned drunk. The wannabe Mark Bolan hair falling in gentle waves around his face. The way he didn’t let Linda’s bitch attitude phase him for even one second. Her nastiness slipped off his leather jacket like oil slick. Wrapped his hair around his finger and went all squirly as he flirted with you.

“He is sweet. And different. And anything but boring.” You told Sal.

You don’t even dare turn and look at him cause you know you’ll blush even just talking about the boy you’re mad about. You idly pick at an Ella Fitzgerald tape.

Sal made a ‘mmmm’ noise of mild interest.

You snag a tape before walking back over to the counter. Alice Cooper. You punch Sals crap out the stereo, and replace it with that one. Steady rock pumps out and Alice’s sneering and enlivened vocals start to growl through the speakers. You loved his stage presence. The gothy dripping black eyes and the way he snarled the vocals along to guitar.

“Anyway why are you taking such an interest in my nonexistent love life?” You ask him.

You lean your elbows on it as you talked to him. The bell shrills as a couple people step inside. You turn your head and smile at them. Saying hello. Leaving them to browse.

He shrugs at your question. “Just curious.”

You make a face at him that he doesn’t turn to see.

“Don’t go thinking you can use my store room in the back for having sex. Those shelves won’t hold your weight. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

To say you winced was a massive outcry of an understatement.

“Jesus, Sal.” You lob a King Crimson cassette at him that he lets thud off his shoulder and to the couch cushion beside him. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. His reactions to stimulus weren’t the same for other normal people from this solar system.

More disturbing was the fact you didn’t want to even picture the type of person to try a sexual liaison with the bag of dusty bones in a stones t-shirt sat before you. You blink the thought away very quickly.

“And remember to tell your guy pulling out doesn’t work. Wrap it before you tap it kid. Safe sex ain’t no joke.” He warns.

You turn the stereo up. Right up. Anything but a lecture on safe sex from your boss. You shake your head at him. No no no.

“If you don’t shut up, Sal, I’m putting Richard Hell and the Voidoids on again.”

“Fucking hell.” He mumbles.

His tolerance for listening to anything Punk was about as short as yours was for his penchant of playing Joan Baez for hours and hours. You once had to stick your fingers in your ears and decried that you were going to phone social services.

You may punish him later and shove a bit of the Clash in the stereo. Just to make him pay.

The rest of your shift swings by without a hitch. The usual rounds of drudgery.

You help people out who come in looking for some specifics. Some very blood pressure raising enquires to deal with. Including a very safe looking middle aged woman in a cardigan and chunky gold earrings.

I don’t remember the name of the album. But it has a blue cover. Does that help?

You should ask Sal for a pay rise for your more than generous habit of not socking these people in the face.

 You eventually help that woman find what’s she’s looking for. Ring up a Bing Crosby album for her and tried not to react too much when she said it was the best thing she’d ever heard.

Helped another kid find a few good cassettes. He wasn’t sure what to like. You steer him towards Blondie and some okay hits of The Police, and get him to stay away from Duran Duran. You also manage to convince him that T.Rex is actually pretty awesome too.

You play him a bit on the stereo and watch his face light up listening to it. You turn it up loud loud loud for him and laugh kindly when his eyes almost bug out his head.

You love to think that the Children of the Revolution will be blasting through his bedroom and pissing off his parents for weeks.

He eagerly buys all of your suggestions. You throw in the T.Rex for free.

A group of kids from your school come in too. Two sophomore cheerleaders and their inane boyfriends trailing behind them. They come in and immediately gawk at the decor and make fun of apparently everything about it, and you, for the mere fact you worked here.

You growl to yourself under your breath as they scan around all smug and snobby through the aisles.

You pay no attention to their snide remarks and carry on flicking through the out of date music magazines Sal kept cluttered around the place. You slam some Siouxsie and the Banshees into the stereo and let Cities in Dust bathe away some of your sourness from their presence.

You lean over the counter and resume your place in the magazine. Slowly swerving your jaw chewing your pink gum.

“Excuse me?” Comes a whiny voice across the counter at you. A cheerleader trills at you like Tweetie Pie with a too slick lipgloss smile.

“Do you work here?” She asks like it’s something amusing. She probably spends her time filing her nails at whatever beauty department store counter she worked at. Playing with lipsticks and nail polish, gossiping with her friend on the phone rather than helping anyone.

“It’s why I’m this side of the counter.” You grin nicely. Exposing too much teeth. You try and keep your tone neutral but you just knowyou don’t quite make it.

She scoffs at you with a sickly expression. “I’m looking for some party music.” She tells you like that should be obvious. Blinking her lashes at you.

You roll your gum on your tongue. Teeth gritting. “You’re in the right place then.” You flip your magazine closed. Rest your chipped nail polish on the paper.

“Do you even have any Madonna?” She dug at you like you’d decided to leave your brain at home when you clocked on.

You take a breath. Inhale slow and steady. You’d kill to steal one of Sal’s cigarettes right about now.

“We’re a record store. We have pretty much everything.” You state.

“Madonna?” She asked again. Louder.

“Funnily enough it’s under the section labelled M.” You harp back with the same amount of detriment she threw at you. You nod towards the section where they’d find what they’re after.

“If you can’t find it, just do a high kick or wave some pom-poms at me. I’ll come running.” You assure her. You narrow your eyes just a little.

Her mouth drops open. She flips her perfectly highlighted hair over one shoulder and her friend glares daggers. You hear her bite out the word ‘Bitch’ as she goes in search of her terrible make-out music.

You chew your gum and round the desk after flipping your magazine shut. Let Sal serve them you’re done dealing with drippy cheer girls from your school.

“Cyndi Lauper is under C in case you get confused.” You breathe out as you wander to the back with a box of tapes that needed sorting. The needle eyes she shoots your way let’s you know you didn’t say it as quietly as you’d intended.

Fuck them. You’d offer them civility if they had any intention of talking to you like a damn human being. As it was, you were fine with being acidic.

You nudge Sal as you walk past the couch where he sat. “Sal. Customers. Your turn.” He makes a waving with his cigarette. A sort of ‘fine’ expression taking over his face.

He kills your Siouxsie tape and puts on Stairway to Heaven instead. You call through and tell him how rude that is.

You hide in amongst the vinyls whilst those guys from your school finish browsing. Like hell are you serving them. You hope Sal overcharges them for their tacky make out music.

You sigh as you shuffle the Vinyl and their sleeves into the places they belong. Flipping them forwards to slot behind. Balancing the heavy box on your hip. You hear the bell on the door shrill again. Over the sound of Led thrumming through the shop.

A burst of energy suddenly blazes your way.

Your curly maned metal head is throwing his arms across the rack your stood in front of. Leaning over from the other side. Twirling a vinyl in his hands. Big grin beaming at you. You can never tell which way the crazy Munson storm is coming from.

“Pardon me ma’am. Do you happen to know where I could find some truly terrible music? Really? I’m after some awful stuff, and I will need your guidance as an avid music expert.”

You smile. Whole body prickling with warmth and blushy awareness now that he was here.

He hadn’t dared to forget you. How could he forget his pencils?

You look to the front and see that same gaggle of guys from before at the front. The cheerleaders and their boyfriends side eyeing you like you’re a bunch of freaks, who belong together.

What’s amazing is how little you care.

Naturally you play along. “Of course, sir. There’s Donny Osmond and Musical Youth up the front there for you.” You nod forwards to the cassettes.

“Such great service.” He kisses his fingers like he’s tasted something sublime.

He peeks over and his curly hair drags down as he puts the vinyl in its proper place. Goes back to standing with his elbows leaning on the rack. The zips clack on his sleeves. You only just notice he’s attempted to mend the zipper on one side with three chains.

“Any other terrible music I can point your way? How about some Genesis?” You encourage. You reach across and nudge his elbow with the Vinyl of The Ronettes that you slip down. Your touch makes him smile wider.

“I’m all ears.” He tilts his head at you.

The stereo shifts behind you and you hear the too far familiar psych rock again. You turn back to Sal whose back on his slumped couch. He put Red house back on. “Not again?”

“It gets better the more you hear it.” Sal defends loudly.

Eddie pipes up. Really the boy is too sweet. “Nothing wrong with a little Hendrix. Bit too hippy hazy compared to the stuff I like, but the guy sure could play the shit out his Stratocaster-“

“Wait? This is the kid?” Sal asks. Another lit cigarette held between two fingers.

“He’s a metal head?”

“Shut up.” You chirp nicely. Aimed at your boss but you’re not looking at him. You’re looking at Eddie.

Eddies brows shoot up into his unruly bangs. A giddy smile suddenly curls.

“You’ve been talking about me, pencils? I am flattered.”

“Ignore the crusty old hippy.” You twirled a finger around your temple.

“Fried his braincells with too much acid in the 60’s. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“You soooo talked about me.” Eddie teases. Stopping to check out a W.A.S.P vinyl as he slipped past.

He smiles and cooed at Ziggy who’d hopped up near the vinyls to snooze. He chucks a finger under her chin and strokes her for a second.

You saunter back to the counter and place the box in front of Sal as you walk past. He picks through it with his cig hanging out his lips.

Clearly you’ve got a very personal-slash-hate relationship with your boss. There’s something he likes a lot about seeing your wit and sarcasm shine through.

He also absolutely caught the sway of your hips and ass in those blue denim jeans. If he said he didn’t stare for a hot second, he’d be lying. He swallows and rounds the counter as you come opposite. Snatching Sal’s Hendrix tape out, replacing it with Richard Hell and the Voidoids.

Sal scowls over at you. “You know what you did.” You held out. Let him stew in your gritty 1976 tapes.

“Punk huh?” Eddie smirks at you as he leans over the counter. “Never would’ve expected such an anti-establishment streak from you.” He shakes his head in a funny way that makes his hair sway.

“Comes with the territory of being on track for Art at indie state.” You shrug simply. Eddie smiles at your dream.

“I little punk attitude never hurts.” He figures.

“Plus did you know this guy actually helped set up the DIY ripped fashion of punk in the 70’s at CBGB’s? And his stuff was so sophisticated and immediate compared to the later bands who were just basically a load of kids screaming out any old shit and calling it new wave. This guy actually had some permanence with his message in music.” You point at the stereo with a thumb over your shoulder.

Elbows on the counter. Eddie is opposite. Pressed against it. Hands in his leather pockets. Listening to you talk about punk with that fascinated passion lighting up your whole face. He could and he would listen to you talk for hours-

“And-I’m getting carried away.” You say. Restricting your waterfall of words. Shrinking back. Clasping your hands together on the shiny magazine cover.

“I like carried away on you.” He smiles. And you did make it look good.

“Did you still want some terrible tapes?” You ask softly. You’re right over the counter.

He starts to lean in a little too.

You wet your lips cause those fucking brown eyes are disarming up close. He’s so damn pretty.

“You did come here for some music if my memory serves.” You say.

“It does. And I did.” He nods. Leaning in and bracing his elbows near to yours. “Maybe a little metal. Anything of the Death or Thrash persuasion.” He says.

He lies though. He’s got so many tapes.

He mostly came so he’d have an excuse to see you again. Hopefully kiss you some more if he could. Though he’d settle for not. Just spending time with you. Unravel more of what you’re like, and walk you to your car after your shift is over. Leave with a gentle goodnight kiss.

This is the thing about Eddie, he’s not expecting anymore than that. He settles for less and is more than shocked when he realised you wanted to offer more.

His fingers are crawling closer to yours.

You let them.

Fingertips of his stroking your knuckles a little before slipping between your spread fingers. Cold silver metal brushing your skin to tingle. You take the initiative to tangle your hand through his.

“I know we got Iron Maiden. Megadeath. Van Halen. Def Leppard, uh, Metallica, Led Zeppelin.” You rattle off a list.

“If you haven’t listened to Alice Cooper yet, I will have to tie you down not let you leave until you’ve listened to him, like, a lot. He’s insanely…great.”

You’re rambling, cause his hand is fully holding yours now. And your brain is on the ceiling. Your heart is rammed up your throat and your stomach is somewhere sailing north of the Dakota’s.

“Not gonna let me leave huh? Sounds real ominous.” He looks awful enamoured with the idea.

“Yeah. You should be very scared. You’d have to sleep here on Sal’s couch. And I’m willing to bet there is probably a bit of unaccounted for Mexican Sativa, lost down one of the cushions.”

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad time.” He supposes gleefully.

“Would give me a chance to hang out with some beautiful shapely looking chicks over there.” He gestures towards the guitars on the wall. Red and white. One black. One tiger striped.

He bites his lip as he looks. Waggles his brows.

Ah, his other weakness. Electric guitars.

“Shall I leave you alone for a moment? Put on some Barry White? candlelight?” You tease. Poking fun.

Where you lean over even more to twirl your fingers into his, he gets a neat view of the lacy strap of your blue bra that almost makes his heart squeeze to a stop.

“What’s your employee discount again, pencils?” His tongue tips out cheekily between his grin.

“Cold. Munson. Ouch.” You laugh. You nudge his hand with yours. But most importantly, you don’t let go.

“I’m only messin.” He promises.

“Besides, If you think I’m important enough for Sal to give me a discount. You’re gonna be disappointed. But I do have my methods of bribery.” You smirk.

Whilst that is true, he does let you sneak some things by. If he sees a new tape you’d like, he lets you slip a couple in your bag if you bring in some home baked goods sometimes. A tray of mac n cheese. Or bring him a sandwich or a pizza if you’re on a late one doing stock take. Something for the bony guy to soak up the weed and beers with.

He can’t complain. At the end of the day you’re a good kid. And you don’t mess him around and you work damn hard besides that. He can see you’re on track to your college. He cuts you some slack. Occasionally slips you the odd joint with your new cassettes. It’s a classic give and take.

“I knew under that arty persona lurked the canny wiles of a temptress.” Eddie flattered you.

“Temptress?” You smile. Not often you hear words like that bandied around. Then again, this guy does have his fantasy world lingo to play with.

“Completely. Like, I know I haven’t stopped thinking about that kiss from the other night. You’ve been stuck in here, pencils.” He taps the side of his head with his free hand.

“No getting you out.” He tells you honestly. Eyes gazing into yours.

“I was worried you’d think I kissed you only cause I was drunk.” You confessed.

He tips his head at you. “Actually. I had a theory about that-“ He began. Looking devious.

“A theory he says.” You sound impressed. His thumb strokes over your knuckles.

“I think we should try it again. Y’know. With you sober this time. In the interest of conducting a fair scientific test and all that.” He offered. “Just so we’re sure.”

Ohh, smooth.

You bite your lip and consider this sweet funny guy stood the other side of the counter asking politely if he can kiss you again.

Your smile is more than enough of an answer.

You clear your throat, a tad louder than necessary, and flick a look across in Sals vague direction. You chuck your pink gum in the bin. Wouldn’t be good to choke on it.

“Actually, I uh, I think we might have some new stuff, in the back.”

Eddies stunning grin gets your knees trembling weak.

“Might?” His resulting grin absolutely melts you. Oh that playful tone of his dropped right into your panties and got you good.

“Definitely. No we, definitely, have some new stuff in the back.” You decide quickly. You nod and laugh at your own dense stupidity.

There’s a shift from the leather couch as Sal gets up and wanders to the front. The smell of cheap Patchouli incense and cigarettes wafting after him as he moved.

“No fucking on my shelves. They’re rickety as hell, they won’t hold ya.”

Eddie has the temerity to blush. You scowl at the back of Sal’s bandana.

“Won’t be a sec. Just gonna see to those tapes.” You say, again, loudly, to your wayward boss who went to the front to flick through some tapes

You move around the counter. Walking through the vinyl. You check he’s not watching. No customers in. You shove a hand into Eddie’s denim jacket and pull him along after you. He stumbled along a little in his sneakers. Ever graceful.

You weaved the narrow aisle and ducked into the side door leading to the cold shadowy back store room.

He goes wherever you lead him. It’s awful cute.

You make sure his back is pressed against the door to open it better. Your hands still on his collar. He looks at you with nervousness blended with unsure excitement.

You do what you’ve wanted to do for three days now;

You lean up on your tiptoes, cup the front of his shirt in greedy fists and press your mouth to his. A proper hungry kiss.

You knock him back to the door with the force of it, and he steadies himself and muffled a moan into your mouth - only just - hand wrapping around the back of your waist and spread up onto the small of your back. His moan sends a reactive zing right the way down your spine

He’s stunned and you can tell you caught him off guard so suddenly.

And then you just melt to each other. All honey slow and gentle. His lips are so goddamn plush. You could mouth at them for hours upon hours and not even get bored.

You smile when you feel his arm cup you closer. Hand reaching up to cradle the side of your neck like you’re something precious to him. Warm skin and cold rings.

Your kiss slowly grows hungrier. His does too, he pressed back to you just as much as you were offering your lips to him. Slowly at first, and then moving to match the rhythm you gave him. Mouths sealed together.

You walk him back and try not to stumble him into anymore boxes in the dingy dark room. Waddling back with your legs tangled amongst each other’s. Knees and thighs brushing in your jeans. His wallet chain hitting your leg with a heavy thud.

Although you fail miserably when you catch the corner of your shin on a box that shudders and jerks out behind you. Clashing plastic clattering around as the box splits from the other side.

Eddie breaks away. Possibly to breathe, but more to check you’re alright. His lips are adorably kiss-pink.

“Shit, you ok?“ He breathes in a whisper. Chest hitching. His eyes are so round and wide. Trying to see the mess you made in the dark.

You’re addicted. He tastes like too sharp cigarettes and something tacky cherry sweet. More.

“Doesn’t matter.” You sigh quickly. Shake your head. Dazed and smiling so so so wide Eddie feels like it splits his soft heart open like a ripe mushy fruit.

You tug him to you. Close as you can possibly get. Kiss drunk. Reel him right in. So that in this stuffy closet, you’re up against the infamous shelves, it’s harsh edge digging into the middle of your back. Against the back of your head. But you don’t care.

So worth it.

He somehow noticed. Snuck his hand around the back of your nape. Cupped your head to hold you closer, made sure it didn’t hurt you.

He looks at you for a moment. You pant heavily against each other’s lips. Eyes flicking over each other’s faces. Cheeks glaring pink.

He makes the move this time. And it’s so explorative, but tentative.

His kiss numbs out the rest of the world beyond that door. The music. Sal. All of it. He leans in and you cup the back of his hair. Surrounded by the feel of him and never wanting to give it up.

Eddies other hand slithers impatiently around your back again. Needed the tactile touch of you. That little silky dip in the small of your back. Tasting the fruity gum on your tongue. Some smooth balm on your lips that’s trying to be strawberries or something- it’s nice.

Where he cups your head his elbow knocks another box. Just a nudge and some tapes clatter out of that. He has to avoid crushing them underfoot.

He twists against your mouth and hissed a groan. Tried to turn and look. You don’t wanna let him.

He half speaks into your kiss. Can’t get the words out. You’re interrupting him too much. Your lips pecking to his eagerly.

“I- fuck- mhmmm. Gonna… break-somethin…here-pencils.” He manages to sigh before you’re on him again.

You pull back and see the tapes scattered across the floor. You make out the artist name on the cover.

“Pet shop boys. Doesn’t matter.” You shut him up with another eager kiss and he rumbled a breathy laugh into it.

You moan impatiently. The sound makes his thighs quiver. Mouths way too spit wet but that’s what makes it so dirty-glorious. You’re needy for him and it’s frying his brain.

When you break apart to try and breathe again he grins like a fool. “Knew there was a reason I liked you so damn much.”

“Pure music snobbery-?“ You sigh all high and whiny as his mouth dove for your neck.

His hand at your head, slowly travelled downwards. Both resting at your waist instead. Fingertips skirting over the edge of where your top rode up over your hips. He touched your skin and the sensation bleeds straight through you like a live wire.

“Holy fuck.” You sigh all blissed. Trying not to moan too loud.

Your hand tangled in his hair. Nails scraping his scalp. You tip your head back to give him room, groan his name and he swears it’s better than any Metallica riff he’s ever heard.

“Something like that.” He hushes all softly and smiley against your hammering pulse point. Pecking it all sweet like you’re both innocent of anything naughty. Your toes are curling in your shoes.

One hand of yours slides down and finds the smooth of his hipbone under his shirt. You run your hand along his skin and you feel him shudder.

You’re willing to bet he has some sensitive patches of skin and some badass ink on those hips.

His hand slips under your sweater and cups up your back. Eye for an eye. Smoothly holds you as he works kisses into you neck.

“Easy. Don’t want me to give you a hickie, do you pencils?”

You smile and bite your lip, cause. “Do your worst, Munson.” That’s exactly what you desire from him.

“You not gonna freak about people-seeingit?“ Cause he can only imagine the outcome if you tell people that he was the one to put a sizeable love-bite on your neck. Him. The Satan of Hawkins High.

You slide your hand up through the back of his curly hair. Fluffy to the touch. Wrench his head away and speak against his lips so your noses almost brush. You love how blushy and dazed he looks. Lips so red and kiss stung.

“Don’t care who sees. Let them see.” You smirk. Kissing his lips again. Addictive lips of his.

That’s shooting an odd tingly sensation of pride right on through him. The fact you’re willing to be so visible when with him. Cause fuck this small minded town. Fuck their stuffy opinions and what the popular kids think. You’re not gonna start pretending you care what they think.

“All those rumours will be flying around that you’ve fallen under spell of my demonic powers.” He widens his eyes as he talks about it. Peppering kisses along your jaw. You feel his voice aswell as hear it.

You hum a pleased sound. You’re lip locked in your record store storage closet with Eddie Munson. Whatever repercussions or gossip come your way, at this point, are just all stupid fury and no sound.

“I can deal with that. Tell them I’ve sold you my soul for a very reasonable price.” You shrug openly. “And maybe a joint or two.” You add.

“Ahhh I see. So you’re signed up for the Eternal damnation package?” He jests.

“What does that involve?” You ask, acting all innocent.

“I’ll send you the literature but I think, entitles you to a whole lot more, of…uhm. Well. Something like this…”

As he spoke he moved closer and closer until he slanted his lips to yours again. Gently deepening it. You blush right down to your tits when his tongue flashes against the front of your teeth.

You only pull away to breathe, and even then it’s torture. Sloppy lips parting with a sticky moan coming from each of you.

“You got many others subscribed to this, ‘package’ of yours?” You ask with cheeky insinuation. Heart pulsing at your throat. Pulling for air and you’re not giving it much to go on. You’re more focused on his lips.

“Nah man. Just Gareth. And he’s a fuckin lousy kisser.” He rolls his eyes. Loves the way you light up with a laugh.

He kisses your neck with smacking wet pecks.

“I wish… I had more time. To keep…. Kissing you. Like this.” He says in-between smooches. Closing his eyes and breathing, wanting to live, in the way you sound and the heat of your perfume.

The world outside comes tumbling in to ruin your lust-crazed bubble, when you think how much longer you want to get away with kissing this beautiful guy. Hours and hours wouldn’t cover it.

You pull back to pant some more after an indulgent kiss and sigh at him. “Me too.”

This boy is pumping hard core strength indica directly into your heart, puffing it through your veins, and you just want all of it. Every bit of sensation of being around him.

You don’t want to unwrap your arms from each other but it appears you have too. You’re on the clock still, and the last thing you want is Sal coming back here to catch you both in the act.

You pet his hair around his face as he looks at you. Swipes his thumb over the back of your neck and up that tempting little dip in your lower back. Just a moment whilst you drink him and his closeness in. His lips are all cherry bright and his hair smells like some cheap apple shampoo. It’s near dangeroushow much you want him.

He’s way too pretty like this. Too much to resist.

“Come on.” You tug kindly on his leather jacket cuff and weave him through some boxes. “I can sneak you out.”

“Secret tunnel?” He quips. “Like that old movie. Very Steve McQueen.”

“Yeah. There’s a Triumph TR6 waiting for you out back, Steve.” You joke.

You love how spontaneous words just sprawl out his mouth. Big ball of energy attitude. It’s amusing to be around. Refreshing even. Your entire friendship with Linda is all pot-shots and unsubtle digs at each other.

“Your boss isn’t gonna wonder where the hell I, uh, went, is he?” He asks.

You turn and flash him a look. Make a noise between a snort and a scoff. Tilt your head. “Sal?” You ask him with meaning.

“I doubt he even knows what day or month it is, Munson.” You smile. He does too.

“Gotta love a hippy loop hole.” He remarks to make you laugh.

You come to the old warped fire door right at the back. Leaning heavily on the bar to jerk the door to open with a crunching whine. You pluck something off one of the shelves as you walk past.

You stand with your back against the door, holding it for him, as he brushed past you. The way his hand lingered on your stomach, made your thighs go all squirmy in your jeans. Makes you blush like some silly third grader.

He has to step careful cause there’s so many boxes in the way cause Sal is about as organised as he looks. Zero.

He stays near you. He doesn’t step past. His jacket almost brushing your hip. He doesn’t want the distance as much as you don’t. It’s nice, that.

You reach over to hold the back of his wrist, and press an Alice Cooper cassette tape into his hand. ‘Love it to Death.’

He smiles when he turns it around and sees the cover. “You really weren’t kidding.”

“I never joke about good music.” You grin. “Track two and five.”

“Yes ma’am.” He beams.

His pretty grin then turns devious. Eyes burn with it. He leans right in, his hand braced to the door by your arm.

“And here I thought you wanted to tie me down first?” He echoed back your earlier threat. One brow crooks up. “Should I admit I’m disappointed.”

“I’m all outta rope. I’d have to get creative and use cassette tape. Tie you down with ABBA or some shit like that.” You grin.

“I take that as a very personal attack, now Pencils.” He warns pointing a ring clad finger. But you know he doesn’t mean it.

You stand there. Grinning at each other like a pair of dozy braindead idiots.

“How about I make it up to you. Movie night? Sometime… my house. Pepperoni pizza extra cheese. Horror films. I’ll buy the jolly ranchers, to sweeten the deal?” You offer.

He takes you by surprise this time with a completely soft kiss.

His hand finds your belt buckle and he loops a finger through. Grounding him to your touch. Tethered to a piece of you cause he hates the idea of pulling away.

When he breaks apart, his nose brushes yours before he speaks.

“The deal of seeing you again is plenty sweet enough.” And he means it too. Those puppy eyes brim over with sincerity.

You part with one more kiss that makes your stomach soar. He slips away with a cheeky grin on his face, and you blush to know you’re the cause.

“Wait-“ Comes a pitchy cry from him.

He twirls back all sudden and pecks another kiss at your mouth before the door closes.

Leaning in with one hand on the frame. The other cupped the back of your neck. Pushing you backwards with it. Sighs when he comes up for air.

“Sorry. Had too. Just had too.” He winks. Grins. And then swirls away.

You’re such a goner.

When you finally shut the door, and come back inside out the storage closet, Sal is at the counter and not so subtly knocks a tape in to play on the stereo. He’d been waiting for you to come back in-

 Japan’s ‘Adolescent Sex’ starts to filter through the speakers. He doesn’t look up from having his nose stuck in his magazine.

“You’re so hilarious.” You seethe at him. His smile curls up on one side.

Right. You stalk the stacks determined to find something along the lines of the Sex Pistols to really piss him off.

“You should be more mellow for someone who just got laid.” He calls out.

“We didn’t go near your goddamn shelves ok?! Go have a smoke you dusty old bone bag.”

~

🕷Next part to this is right here. Just in case you’re curious or whatnot🕷

#eddie munson #eddie my boy #EDDIE DESERVED BETTER #EDDIE MY BELOVED #eddie x oc #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x reader #record store #records #vinyls #making out in the store room #making out #kissing #snogging if youre feeling gb about it #lots of snogging #this fic is for anyone who just wants to kiss eddie

[roronoacherries]

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰/ 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐨

content: fem!reader, as sfw as headcanons about bras & panties can be, suggestive

notes: came up with this while bra & underwear shopping against my will. always the worst experience, but monster trio daydreams kept me sane.

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐝. 𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲

hates it. he’s bored out of his mind and doesn’t understand why it has to take so long.

might complain and ask if you really need new stuff; you could just not wear a bra! and wear his boxers... :)

will play with the bras like a little kid, touching all of them, poking them, squishing the ones with padding, might try one on for shits and giggles.

if you take him in the fitting room with you he’ll definitely stare at you while you change. respectfully. and unapologetically.

don't try to ask him for his opinion; he'll say they're all the same to him, but he will slightly prefer anything softer and/or objectively prettier. will be unamused by anything bland (i.e., nude colors without any decor)

any opinion he does give will be mainly based on how comfy it’d feel when he rests his head on your tits, his favorite pillow.

he’ll go nuts over something red and lacy, pretty and his favorite color? you have to buy it.

and he likes the panties with little bows in the front. thinks they're extra cute; and the way his eyes widen at the pink, frilly panties with bows hanging on the side... you add them to your pile without him seeing; he deserves a treat, after all.

𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐚 𝐳𝐨𝐫𝐨

loathes it. definitely one of those boyfriends who will sit in that chair in the corner and doze off.

if you bring him in the fitting room with you he’ll have enough sense to turn around or shut his eyes, but he’ll be stealing a glimpse either way

like luffy, he might play with the bras like a child but only when you’re not looking

but if you ask him to help you, giving him those doe eyes, a sweet smile or a little pout, he can't say no. as strong as he is, you have him wrapped around your finger.

surprisingly opinionated? and brutally honest about what he thinks, but doesn’t care if you get something he doesn’t like; if you like it, it's good enough for him. prefers to see it all on the floor anyway.

acts like he has zero preference, but he loves black lingerie and it shows.

and the more he gets to see of your bum the better.

pretends he couldn’t care less what you buy, but will stick something he finds really sexy in your pile without saying a word.

sees crotchless panties and he’s a little confused by them cause they look odd, but once you explain to him what they are, his eyes widen and then darken, and he gets this look that makes you feel small in front of him and immediately has you looking for a pair in your size without having to say a word.

𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢

nosebleeds aside,

he would be really helpful. knows his stuff. considers comfort, sizing, style, etc., in his critique; the whole nine.

can definitely see him being all serious, acting like a whole expert. when you try them on, he’s meticulous; closely examining the quality, the fit, getting handsy.

in the fitting room, he’s respectful enough to try not to look, until you tell him it’s okay.

he can be helpful, yes, but ask him for his opinion? what he thinks looks better on you? he can’t answer. in his eyes, you look like a goddess in anything.

lace, bows, nude colors, see-throughs, flowery decor, all of it. worships you in all of it.

will be left wondering what you’re wearing for days after. and he’ll absolutely take it upon himself to find out.

─────────────────────────────

taglist: @maaarshieee @zorobraun @lyriczhou @idiotlittleme @tinkywinky27 @zoros-4th-sword

taglist | masterlist

#monster trio #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #luffy #zoro #sanji #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #one piece fic #୨⎯ pedacito de sol ☼

[the-fluff-piece]

Sweet and Slow

A Sanji x reader fluff fanfic

What happens when you decide to reward Sanji's endless flirting with a kiss? It will be just a fling, he surely won't be questioning his whole lifestyle of falling deeply in love with every single woman he sees, and of course he won't try to prove to you that he wants only you. That would be silly. (and if you didn't pick up on the sarcasm that's absolutely what will be happening in this eventually but this is only part 1, the first encounter)

It is sfw fluff with making out parts and mention of alcohol

Let me know in the comments if you liked it!

And check out my masterlist for more

It's already late, but you didn't feel like going to your room after dinner. The paella Sanji has cooked up was delicious, but it didn't satisfy you. When conversations slowly ended and the others said good night, you sat down at the bar in the dining room, watching Sanji clean the kitchen.

He's humming to himself as he is putting away leftovers, cleaning plates and his kitchen supplies. From time to time, he's turning around to you and blows you a kiss, asking if you need anything.

"I need...something nice" you eventually whisper. Noticing your bad mood, he puts the dish cloth down and leans on the counter, looking into your eyes with an easy grin.

"Whatever you need, I will do anything to make you smile again“ he says in his most sincere voice. "Mhm, I don't know...", your voice trails off as you draw random patterns on the bar's wooden counter with your finger."I know just the thing" Sanji says and turns around, already beginning to mix a cocktail."I have picked up some extremely rare chocolate liqueur in Dress Rosa. With a little bit of cream, a hint of rose...", he puts a glas in front of you, sprinkled with rose petals and smelling deliciously of chocolate.

You try the drink, the sweet, heavy chocolate liqueur is perfectly contrasted by the flowery bouquet of rosewater, and there is a hint of sea salt and spices. His blue eyes are studying you intensely while he assesses the effect of his creation on you. You immediately feel a little comforted, it's amazing how Sanji can be so considerate in some moments. Your frown slowly turns into a relaxed smile.

"I m glad you like it", he says and turns around to resume his work again. You have always loved the way he is when it's just the two of you. He may not make that much of a fuss about you all day, but when you need something, he really stops and listens to you. Sometimes, like today, he even hears the things you don't say out loud. You watch his tall, slender figure wash up dishes and put away everything while you drink your rose and chocolate drink. You can already feeling it going to your head a little.

"I will just prepare something for tomorrow and than I am done for the day. Anything else you need, my lady?", he asks, leaning on the counter again.

In that moment, you decide to just take a leap of faith - you've always wondered how he would react if his advances actually worked.

"You know, there is one thing...", you say, getting up from your chair to reach over, grab the knot of his tie and pull him towards you - to give him a little kiss on the mouth.

You draw back and see his face frozen in an expression that slowly shifts from a shocked to perfect bliss. Reassured by his reaction, you lean forward again, kissing him again, deeper and longer, while your hands are wrapped around his neck, playing with the strands of his soft hair. It takes a few seconds until he reacts. At first you fear you might have been too bold after all, but soon you feel his arms tighten around you and his tongue darting out to meet yours.

You could have stayed like this a few moments longer, but he breaks away. "A- are you really sure?", he asks. "Are you not?", you ask back, irritated. "I thought I was your lady, and that you would do everything to make me happy?", you say with a pout. Which seemed to scare him, with wide eyes he assures you "Of course, it's true! Anything for you! Just tell me what you want!", he almost kneels before you to underline his promise.

You playfully pretend to be thinking really hard about your wishes while you study the parade of emotions across Sanjis face: excitement, insecurity, desire, happiness- his expressions are as easy to read as a menu. Eventually you answer by pursing your lips and closing your eyes.

 "Y/n-chan, are you really, really sure you want to do this?" you hear is hoarse voice in front of you. With two fingers he lifts your chin up, prompting you to open your eyes again.

You have never seen this expression on him, at least not when he’s talking to you. Dead serious, cautious. His eyes are fixed on your face, searching for clues about what you're thinking. You need to swallow hard - this was a face he wore to battle. "If we go there, everything will change", he says ominously. Of course things will change in your dynamic, but he can never deny who he is – there will never be just one woman for him. He is surely just dramatic, so you tell him: "I know that, you silly man" hoping that he wasn’t making this more complicated in his head than it needed to be.

After what feels like an eternity you can feel his hands on your waist. In a swift movement he lifts you off the bar chair and onto the counter. He pushes your knees apart to stand closer, looking deep into your eyes before he kisses you again, softly and slowly. One hand is caressing you cheek as the other trails down your side. Once again you close your hands around his neck, and you cannot resist touching his hair again. He doesn't seem to mind. It was all sweet and soft sensations: his cautious kiss, his warmth, the smell of his perfume and the spices of the kitchen, his caressing hands - and his body pressing against yours.

He would only stop his sweet kisses to whisper even sweeter vows in your ears. "Your eyes are so beautiful...your mouth is the sweetest thing I ever tasted...I will never leave your side ever again...I will always keep you save, no matter what" - things he has probably said a thousand times to a thousand others, but it was still wonderful to have them whispered in your ears.

Eventually sleep overwhelms you and Sanji carries you to your bed. He lays you on the mattress and sits down on the edge of the bed, gazing at you with a hopeful look in his eyes. „Can I...I mean since we’re now...you know…“, he wrung his hands like a nervous school boy. „Just sleep next you? I swear I won’t do anything!“ he promises with his hand over his heart.

You invite him by holding up the beadsheet and he happily kicks off his shoes to lie down. As you close your eyes and try to get some sleep, you feel watched. You open one eye to see his face inches from yours, staring.

„Sanji!“ you say.

„What? You need something?“

„...I need you to stop staring and get to sleep!“

„Oh, I’m sorry, of course“, he says, pushing his hair over his eyes. „I swear I wont stare anymore. But you are so cute when you sleep!“

You drift off to sleep – even though he's clearly peeking from time to time.

Author's note: Yes, this is a repost of a smut story no one read with the smut part taken out and the fluff expaned, because I already started to write a second part. And sorry for not updating, I am absolutely capable of writing for some reason. I must have been blocked by the writing gods.

#one piece sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x you #sanji x reader #op sanji #blackleg sanji #sanji x y/n #op x reader #black leg sanji #sanji fanfic

[prismaticpichu]

Followup to Mama Strife

Sephiroth didn't actually know who Cloud was... When he does find out and realizes why Cloud was hiding his face and that the villagers were really mean to him he goes full big brother mode.

Ohhhhh heck yeah! Sephiroth got them fraternal instincts!! >:3c

(Sequel to this little thing)

Now that Sephiroth has defenestrated his SOLDIER belt, he’s settled quite nicely into his new lifestyle. He wears rustic, loose clothing, eats plenty of grilled Chocobo stew, and even shares a room with the newly-quitted Cloud! Oh yeah, bunk bed HYPE! (Sephiroth insists on the top; Cloud lives with a perpetual fear of being crushed in his sleep.) He can’t even begin to express the joy and content of being a part of a family… of being loved. Of sleeping under the covers and knowing he would wake up, safe and sound, and that everything would be there in the morning.

And it brings out every last bit of unseen, unbridled protectiveness he had in his soul. Every. Last. Bit.

When Claudia half-heartedly mentions Cloud’s bullies during dinner one day, Sephiroth is SEETHING. The chair screeches like a dying bird as he pushes himself out and straightens, fully intending on heading to those stinkbugs’ houses with a fiery reckoning. He’s full on Drampa from Pokémon. Ready to tear down their homes and make them pay for his dear brother’s bruises. They would PAY. Humans. Humans. HUMANS.

HUMANS.

Yeah, unfortunately, with jenova so close by, Sephiroth is very volatile. He flares up a LOT. Needle-thin eyes, bloody murder in them, the whole shebang. Thankfully though Claudia and Cloud are always able to snap him out of it—usually just takes a few calm strokes on the arms and some soothing whispering. That’s what you get when you adopt a Sephiroth! Gotta read the warning labels.

There’s no need to worry about bullying, however; no one DARES to even glare at Cloud now that Sephiroth’s around. The guy is always by his side, 24/7, and every previous stinkbug there knows that messing with Cloud means messing with Sephiroth. And messing with Sephiroth earns you the intelligence ranking of a clamshell.

Over time, Cloud opens up more and more to Sephiroth, and they end up having nightly discussions from their beds. He admits that he always wanted to be a SOLDIER, the best of the best, but he was too weak. That he promised a girl he would make it. Now he can’t even show his face around her.

Sephiroth’s heart absolutely splinters. It’s not anger that fuels him upon hearing this—there’s nowhere for the rage to go. It’s only ache. And sympathy. And sadness that Cloud doesn’t know how special he is.

“You’re not too weak for SOLDIER,” he tells him, leaning over the rails of the bunk bed. “You were too strong for them.”

Cloud melts into a warm, messy smile. “Thanks, Sephiroth…” He closes his eyes. “You’ll always be my hero.”

Now about that girl.

The next day Sephiroth proceeds to write a flowery, lush, beautiful love letter on Cloud’s behalf. Does this love train crash and burn, or does it ride on the railroad to paradise? Find out next time on Dragon Ball Z!

#ffvii #crisis core #asks #ty!!!! #cloud strife #sephiroth #claudia strife #excuse me ain’t this the Zack & Sephiroth part of town? #yeah well Zack had tickets to disney on ice and someone needed to fill in #weenie hut jrs

[j0kers-light]

Ahh yes, the first mini project is complete in my journey of “procrastinating on writing the next chapter of His Lighthouse.”

Please don’t be upset with me, I have an idea on how the next update is gonna go its just the matter of writing it. That’s the hard part!

Please accept this fluff moment with J!! 🥹

This idea popped in my head when I was exfoliating before a shower and well... I hope you enjoy the mini snack! 🖤✨

It wasn’t his proudest moment yet Joker wouldn’t spend his quiet night at home any other way. Sitting in front of his pretty girl, getting pampered really wasn’t as bad as it seemed, even if he looked absolutely ridiculous while doing so.

“So? How does it feel?” You asked. 

Joker thought about it long and hard and flickered his gaze up to you, catching a curious gleam in your bright e/c eyes, staring back at him. You arched an eyebrow, waiting for a response. 

He wrinkled his nose and sighed. “It tingles.”

“Okay…? Does it tingle because it's actively working or tingles because it's uncomfortable? I don’t want you breaking out or anything.” 

He went to scratch his face until your hand stopped the motion. “J, stop or you’ll wipe it off! You don’t want all my hard work getting ruined now do you?” You smiled and wiped your own hands off on a nearby towel. 

Joker looked handsome despite wearing a cow print spa headband with a blue bow on top. It kept his freshly washed hair away from his face as the moisturizers, toners, serums, creams, and countless other products absorbed into his face. 

He sat at your ring lit vanity to let you apply just about every product you owned to his face, all with a grumpy frown for almost an hour now. You were nearing the end (that’s the lie you’ve been telling him for the past twenty minutes) until you slapped– literally slapped– another product into the apples of his cheeks.

And that’s where he was right now. 

Letting some flowery smelling acid that he couldn’t even pronounce, eat (safely) at his skin. If it made you happy… he’d endure the odd textures being patted, slapped, and blotted on his rosy toned face. 

He secretly enjoyed being doted on but he wouldn’t admit that aloud. 

“It. Just… tingles Bunny ‘tis okay.” He mumbled. You took pity on him and kissed his bare lips with a flourish. At least he enjoyed that. 

“Alright J, but you’ll tell me if it starts to irritate you any? I want to help combat your bad skin habits, not make them worse.” Of course he took offense to that and made a face. 

“What bad habits?”

You crossed your arms and leaned back on the vanity, still standing in between his legs. Did he seriously not know the damage he did to his skin for years? 

“Joker. You leave heavy greasepaint on your face for weeks at a time for years without cleansing your pores and you think that’s not bad habits? Who would’ve thought you had freckles under that ghastly white paint?!” 

You giggled at the pout Joker unknowingly made and plopped down onto his lap. He automatically opened his arms to hold you close. “I didn’t care bout it doll, not until you, err.. educated meee on iT.”

“Exactly! I can’t believe you hid such a handsome face all these years.” You cupped the back of his head and admired his unique beauty up close.

It was a privilege only you held. Joker was truly a diamond in the rough and it still baffled you that he chose you as a partner. “This skin routine is beneficial, even if it tingles.”

Joker grunted and almost bent down to steal another kiss when the timer on your phone went off. “Oh! Time to remove the eye mask. Show me that gorgeous face, J.” 

He straightened up in his chair as you hopped off his lap to start removing the pads under his eyes. His long lashes tickled your fingers with each blink of his stunning green eyes. You waited a second to let the product dry before reaching around to grab something from the counter to complete the last step. 

“Say la.” You urged. Joker arched an eyebrow until he mirrored your lip’s motion. You blinked when you saw his sharp canines flash a bit. Hello, hello…

You finished off Joker’s routine with a swipe of a hydrating lip balm. It felt funny applying it to someone else for a change. 

You smiled once you were done and leaned back to admire your hard work. Joker’s face looked like a dewy, glazed doughnut. A grumpy doughnut, but hey you weren’t picky. 

“Annnd done! How do you feel?”

He cracked his neck after sitting for almost an hour but stared at his reflection in the mirror. Ehh not bad. 

He watched you put away the excessive amount of products back into their designated spot. He still didn’t see why you went through all this trouble every night with him. What did you get out of this? He looked the same in his opinion. 

You squealed when Joker grabbed you around the waist and attacked you with kisses. He knew the products on his face wouldn’t smear but you still laughed and told him to cut it out.

He grinned and yanked the ridiculous headband you placed on him off before lifting you up bridal style. 

“I’m more in-ter-rested in making you feel goo~ood. Why don’t we take this to the uhh bedroom Bunny?” 

You were all peals of laughter as Joker cut the bathroom lights off before he tossed you on the bed to start his favorite night time routine, pampering you. 

#ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #black!fem!reader #fluff #dark knight joker #heath joker #reader insert #headcanon #joker x reader #joker x y/n #joker’s skin care routine is so dramatic #his lighthouse

[silentglassbreak]

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Alright folks, I think I’m on the other side of this cold. Which unfortunately means I am back at work. Things are going to start getting more serious here, so bear with me.

Moving forward, each chapter will have its own warnings above the normal, so just keep an eye out. As always, thank you for reading. ☺️

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery. **STRONG TRIGGER WARNING FOR SA** Please proceed w/ caution.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess

Part 8 - Limits

Three months is not a long time. Not long enough for me to drink in the relationship that now was encompassing the vast majority of my life. I still had my job, my meetings, my daily walks with Angel…but everything else was Noah.

Nights watching movies with him. Days going to his house and just existing while he sat in his studio making music. Standing backstage at random pop up shows they did. Morning showers. Evening cuddles. Very late night sex. Sex all the time? Noah had an incredible sex drive and I was along for the ride.

But today, this truly horrific day, was his last day before he left again on tour. It was panic day. And I couldn’t get out of work. He leaves in the morning for Houston, and is absolutely losing his mind with anxiety.

My phone was going to vibrate off of my desk, so I slipped it into the top drawer and turned my attention back to the clients in front of me.

“I’m so sorry about that, where were we?”

The young couple sat in the chairs in front of my desk, their expression cool and positive. They radiated happiness, love. Jared and Sarah Miller, newlyweds, and visibly elated to be buying their first home. Sarah’s belly sat heavy in her lap, thirty-six weeks into her pregnancy with their first baby.

Their house was closing next week, so we needed to discuss what all needed to be done prior and run their one last statement check.

“You can take that, if you need Mileena. We don’t mind waiting.” Sarah smiled at me warmly, and I felt a tug in my chest when I heard my phone vibrate again.

“Oh, it’s fi-“ Before I could finish, it stopped vibrating, only to begin again half a second later. “Uhm…”

I opened my drawer, looking down to see Noah’s face flashing once again.

“I’m so sorry, it’s my boyfriend. It may be an emergency if he’s calling this much.”

Jared stood up. “No worries! We can run to the car and get Sarah’s snacks, if you don’t mind we eat in here?”

I shook my head. “Not at all! I’ll only be a second.”

“Take your time.” Sarah chirped before they walked out of the office, the door latching behind them.

I slid the newest call open. “Why aren’t you answering?! Are you dying?!”

I had to pull the phone from my ear due to the sheer volume of his voice. “Noah, I’m at work. Not dying.”

“Oh.” His voice calmed down instantly. “Good, because I almost got worried.”

I snorted. “Almost? You’ve called me like, a hundred times!”

He chuckled. “It’s panic day?” He said defensively.

“Panic day or not, babe. I’m with clients.”

“Fuck! I’m sorry. I should’ve known.”

I glanced at my computer screen to a new Teams message.

Sam: Saw your clients left. Wanna get lunch?

I cringed.

Me: They’re coming back. And no, eating in.

I saw the indication he was typing pop up, but disappear a moment later with no new message.

“Listen, babe,” I brought my attention back to Noah. “How about I go to your place after work? I can grab food on the way?”

“I really should focus.”

I laughed. “Cause you’re doing such a great job.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll see you about six. Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

And we ended the call right as Jared and Sarah walked back in.

I smiled widely and took a breath. “Crisis averted. Now, let’s get you guys this house.”

-

I sat cross-legged on Noah’s bed, pulling potstickers from the paper box in my hand. Noah was chewing on his food while his fingers clacked at his keyboard, sending last minute emails to his tour manager.

Rick and Morty played on the television, and I idly watched it while letting him have his space. ‘Just having you here makes me feel more calm’ is what he told me, so I’m just existing, letting him have his panic in peace.

Noah had gone to my house this afternoon and picked up Angel after we talked, bringing him back to his place so I didn’t have to stop home after work. I was almost convinced he loved that dog more than me. I’m okay with that.

Noah turned, chow mein noodle hanging out of his lips. I chuckled at the sight, and he turned his lips up in a goofy smile. He slurped the noodle in his mouth and licked his lips. As silly as he is, he’s still absolutely breathtaking.

His muscle shirt showed his arms that were slowly becoming more defined every time I really looked at them. Noah had been filling free time he had going to Muay Thai and Boxing classes, trying to keep off any unnecessary pounds he may put on from his sugar intake. The results were becoming…difficult to not appreciate.

“You done?”

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. “I think so. Nothing left to do but sleep.”

I nodded, satisfied. “Good.” I glanced at my watch, noticing it was already seven-thirty. The first forty-five minutes of me being here was spent trying to calm the anxiety and help him find his favorite jacket that somehow ended up in Jolly’s laundry hamper.

“We’ve got to head out in about an hour.”

His lips turned down in a frown. “Why?”

“I’ve got work in the morning, and you’re leaving at 4 in the morning. You need sleep.”

“Nuh-uh.”

I raised my eyebrow at him. “Noah, unless you have a show, you can barely stay conscious past 10PM. You still have to shower.”

He shrugged. “Don’t care.”

“Mkay, well I care. Because I also have to shower and decompress before bed.” I stood off the bed and piled the empty food containers into the bag they came in, walking it over to the garbage can.

“Take this out tonight, or it’ll be awful when you get back.”

He just stared at me, a look I couldn’t quite place on his face. It made me shift my weight under me, unsure of how to react.

“What? Do I have soy sauce on me?” I wiped at my face, but he just shook his head.

“No.” He then sighed heavily. “We’re going to be gone longer this time.”

My heart pulled. He was right. He’d be gone two and a half months this time, which shouldn’t be long, right? Three months went by so fast…

“I know. But, I’ll be at the show here in October. And you’ll be home a week after that, just in time for your birthday.”

He chewed his bottom lip. I walked over to him, stopping directly in front of his chair.

“Then we’ll spend the holidays together.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, his head leaning into my chest, his arms swallowing my waist. “Christmas, New Year, Thanksgiving.”

He would be going back on tour at the end of January, so we had to take what we could get.

“Can’t you just come with me?”

I chuckled. “I wish, baby.”

I pulled my arms back, gripping either side of his neck to bring his face up to mine, placing a soft kiss on his lips. His arms tightened around me and a soft moan hummed out of him.

“Now,” I pulled my face back and pushed him back into his chair. “sit there quietly, and let me give you your parting gift.”

I sunk down to my knees and watched while he lifted his brows at me, narrowing his eyes.

“Since when do I do what you tell me?” His tone was apprehensive.

I gazed up at him through my lashes, doing my best to look innocent while my hands unzipped his jeans.

“Since I have something you want.” I very dramatically licked my lips, leaving excess saliva on my bottom lip for effect.

He pursed his lips, and gave a curt nod of his head.

“Fair enough.”

-

I was wrong. I was so wrong. Two-and a half months was crawling. I would assume it felt that way since it had only been two weeks, but it felt like a year.

I had just hung up the phone, Noah having to head into sound check. My lunch break was close to over, so I was already sitting behind my desk, scrolling through emails while I waited for my next client to make their appointment.

My desk phone chimed, and I grabbed the receiver.

“Kline Home Lending, this is Mileena?”

“Are you not logged in to Teams?” Sam’s voice was sharp on the other end.

“I’m on lunch. I haven’t taken Do Not Disturb off yet.”

“Lex wants to see us. Didn’t say why. We need to go now.”

I straightened my back and checked the time. I only had twenty minutes until my next appointment. That didn’t matter, though. When Lex called, you went. He was the President of Kline, and he didn’t make appearances often.

I shot my client a quick text to wait for me in the lobby if I wasn’t back as I walked down the hallway behind Sam toward Lex’s office.

“What do you think he wants?”

Same didn’t turn to respond. “Don’t know. He just asked to see us two.”

What could he possibly need? I kept my nose down, sold my loans, and kept it pushing. I didn’t make waves. Sam, on the other hand…

“Ah! Thank you both for coming on short notice. I won’t keep you too long.”

Sam and I each took a seat in front of Lex’s desk. Our boss, a tall, older man with white hair and his shirt unbuttoned the top two buttons, stood up and rounded the desk, leaning against it.

“I’m certain you don’t know why I’ve brought you here.” We both just nodded. “Right, well I’ll get straight to it.”

He went back to his chair, sitting down and waking his computer. “I assume you’re both familiar with Shamrock Lending?”

“Aren’t they the company that just declared bankruptcy?” I furrowed my brow, my question making him nod.

“Nearly. They’ve backed out of that.” Sam and I looked at each other inquisitively. “We’re absorbing them, including their employees and client base.”

“Why?” Sam sounded unamused.

“Shamrock maintained a prestigious client-base and had great word of mouth. The pandemic killed the business, and with them having been such a small company to begin with, it didn’t cost us much. And now we can retain their clientele, including their celebrity accounts.” He had his chin resting in his hands. “They sold Kelly Clarkson a house last year.”

Sam snorted. “So, what does that have to do with us?”

I had to forcibly not roll my eyes at his disrespectful attitude.

Lex looked intrigued, staring directly at Sam.

“I’m glad you asked, Samuel.” The sound of his full name made Sam visibly straighten. “We need to do something to boost morale for their employees. Shamrock was a family-owned company so most of their staff are…less than thrilled at coming over to Kline.”

“I could understand that.” I empathized.

“Exactly. So we are going to arrange for a company event, something to lighten the spirits. Eating, drinking, and overall merriment.” He pointed at us. “Oh, and live music! That always gets people excited.”

He stood again. “I need you both to organize it. You’re my top performers, so I trust you both to be able to arrange something within the next week or so.”

My eyes widened. We had to what?!

“With all due respect sir, but when you say organize?”

“Find a venue, get catering, hire a band, all that jazz.”

“My family has an estate on a vineyard in Escondido. Perfect for this.” Sam was now smiling confidently. Kiss ass.

Lex snapped. “Wonderful! We need this ready happen by the end of September. The merge is effective as of October 1st.”

I’m so fucked.

-

The following seven days had been a blur. A long, exhausting, frustrating blur. I had to reschedule so many appointments so Sam and I could work on the event.

Venue was no issue, but we needed catering, entertainment, staff, decorations, which is what Sam and I were currently arguing over.

The amount of arguing we had done over the last week had drained everything out of me. Spending this much time with him was absolutely ungodly. He was so difficult to tolerate, his bravado and over enthusiastic flirting got so far under my skin I could feel it in my bones.

“We need a theme!”

“It’s not junior prom, Sam! We don’t need casino night!”

He scoffed, pacing over the floor in my office while I sat, my fingertips rubbing my temples.

“So it’s just a ‘Hey we get you hate us, but get drunk and have salmon’ party?!’

We were interrupted by the door opening, Chrissy, the janitor, coming to clean my office.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you guys were gone.” She backed out and closed the door.

“Jesus Christ, what time is it?” I checked my watch. “Ugh, it’s already seven. I’ve got to go.”

“No, no, we need to finish this. The event is in three days.” He pulled his phone out. “I’m ordering some pizza.”

I stood up in protest. “As fun as that sounds, I’ve got to go walk my dog. Or he’ll piss in the house.”

He locked his phone and gave me a disgusting grin. “No worries, we can just finish at your place.”

My face must have mimicked my disdain because he only smiled wider. I groaned and sat back down.

“Fine. Let’s just finish it.”

I finally swung my front door open at 9PM, exhaustion and agitation fueling me the entire ride home. Angel met me at the door, eyes big, obviously concerned for my whereabouts. He's never left alone quite this long, more so these last few months with Noah picking him up nearly every day.

"Hey baby." He barked in response while I kicked my heels off. "I'm so sorry I was gone so long."

He ran to the back door in response. I dropped my bag right there on the floor, slipping my slides on and striding to let Angel out.

I stepped outside with him, watching as he disappeared near the trees in the corner of the yard, undoubtedly relieving himself. I stayed on the wooden porch, flopping down into the wooden chair at the table. I slipped a single cigarette out of the pack next to the ashtray and lit the end with a match. I didn't indulge in my nicotine habit often, only in times of severe stress. I bought a pack the day I learned of the event and had smoked one each night after work.

I hadn't told Noah that.

This reminded me that I hadn't heard from him all day. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, taking a long drag from my smoke.

I pressed call as soon as I found his name in my recent list, noticing our last phone call was yesterday afternoon. We hadn't talked hardly at all since Sunday, when the shows became more frequent and my work started taking up all my damn time. Our nightly calls had been skipped a few times now, and we mostly communicated over text. Until now, I hadn't noticed how badly I missed him until I saw his contact photo show up when the phone rang; a picture of him sleeping, Angel stretched out over his stomach, snoozing comfortably on my bed.

I put the phone on speaker and set it on the table, leaning back in my chair.

"Hello?" His voice that came through was loud. There was a ton of background noise and voices. There was also some kind of music. Music I didn't recognize - heavy bass drums, some kind of high-pitched synth, with rhythmic reverb. Club music?

"Hey babe. What're you doing?" I could hear shuffling on the other end.

"What?" He couldn't hear me. "Hang on, babe. One sec." The phone then went completely silent, evidently muted.

After a few moments, I could hear sound again, but it was much quieter. "Hey babe, I'm sorry. I couldn't hear shit in there."

"What are you doing?" My voice was sharp, which I wasn't sure if it was due to me being wildly suspicious all of a sudden, or the frustration bleeding over from work.

"Oh, uh, after the show the guys wanted to stop off at this place on our way back to the hotel." His voice sounded intentionally nonchalant.

"What kind of place?"

He was quiet. Too fucking quiet.

"Babe, don't freak out." He sighed heavily. "It's a bar, and look-"

"You're at a fucking bar?!" I stood up, dropping my cigarette into the ashtray.

"Babe, please don't yell at me." I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, forcibly evening out my voice.

"Noah, why the hell are you at a bar?" I said through gritted teeth.

"It's one of the guys' in ERRA's birthday tonight. We're just here to celebrate. I'm going to be fine." He was annoyed, I could hear it. I was 'sponsor'-ing him, but I didn't fucking care.

"Please don't drink, Noah." He groaned.

"I won't, Leena." His voice was slightly venomous. This bothered me. How could he not understand why I was upset by this? It was a valid fucking reason to be upset. He was right on top of earning his 6-month chip.

"Good. Because I swear to God, I will snatch those chips away from you so fucking fast."

He didn't even breathe. "Nick is here. He'll keep me straight."

"He's not drinking?"

"No."

"Okay." I sat back down.

"I'll call you when I get back to the hotel and after I shower."

"Okay." I picked my cigarette back up. "I love you."

"Love you too." Click. My heart tugged. It felt wrong.

When he finally called me, I was already half asleep. I had showered, finished getting ready for bed, and began fading while watching Supernatural. It was typically unheard of for me to pass out so early, but I was positively exhausted.

My phone began singing next to my face, and I moaned in defeat. I just wanted to be unconscious.

"Hey." My voice was thick with sleep.

"Hey, were you sleeping?" His voice sounded pretty sleepy too. It was past his bedtime.

"I was, but I'm fine." I sat up in bed. I ran a hand over Angel, who was now sound asleep in Noah's spot on my bed.

"Mmm. How was your day?"

I leaned back on my pillows, yawning. "It was long. Had to stay late again."

"With Sam?"

This made me snap to attention. The bite in his tone startled me. "Yeah, unfortunately."

"Hmm." He was making a lot of humming noises tonight. "Been spending a lot of time with him, yeah?"

You're fucking kidding. Noah was not getting jealous...of Shithead Sam?!

"Not voluntarily. We just had to get this event worked out."

"And did you?" He was still so serious. Nothing like what I was used to with Noah.

"Yes." My words were slow, still in disbelief at his attitude. "The event is on Saturday over in the valley. I'll be driving down there Saturday morning to make sure it gets set up."

"Well, I'm sure he'll meet you there."

I had about enough.

"Noah, what's your problem?" I was serious now, over whatever bullshit game it was he was playing.

"I don't have one." He paused. "Do you?"

Is he instigating an argument? "I didn't think so, but you're acting weird." I sighed. "I don't like it."

I heard him breathe, a sigh, maybe? "I'm sorry."

I didn't respond.

"I don't know, I just don't like that guy."

I sat up, pausing the television. "I know you don't. Neither do I. But why be rude to me over it?"

"Well, you spending so much time with him bothers me."

"...and?" I furrowed my brow, bewildered. "I can't help that we got put on this project together."

He snickered. "I mean..." He trailed off.

"What?" I dared him.

"You could have said no."

My jaw dropped. Was he for fucking real? "How do you figure? The President of the company I work for tells me to organize an event, and I just...what? Decline?"

"Pretty much."

I shook my head, absolutely flabbergasted. "Are you fucking joking?" My voice was raised.

"I asked you not to yell at me."

I swung my legs over the bed and began pacing. "Well, that's hard to do when you're acting like this."

"Like what?" His voice was so even, so calm. It was getting under my skin.

"Like a jealous boyfriend!"

He was silent for a minute. "Am I not?"

"Oh my fucking God, Noah! You have nothing to be jealous about!" I was now laughing, but not because it was funny, but because it was so ridiculous. "The guy is fucking putrid!"

"So I've heard." That evenness in his tone was going to kill me, or get him killed if I get my hands on him. I knew that bullshit. It was manipulative, which up until this point, I didn't think Noah was. He had never acted like this before.

"Noah, you don't fucking get it. He's the opposite of attractive. He reminds me of my ex." I had never admitted that before, to him or myself. I didn't think about him often.

"Right, yeah. The ex-boyfriend you never want to talk about. Got it." There was a slight inflection in his voice. Good. At least I know he isn't a robot.

He was just a fucking asshole.

My voice was calm now, still as standing fucking water. "That's correct."

"Leaves me with lots of questions, Mileena."

Who the fuck was this douchebag on the phone with me? What piece of garbage was I talking to? It wasn't Noah. Not my Noah.

"I'm hanging up." My hand was shaking now.

"Sure, yeah, ignore the problem." He was getting worked up. I couldn't tell if that was better or worse.

"No, I'm just not letting this go any further." I took a breath to keep voice even. "You should get some rest."

"No, c'mon, let's talk about it! You always want to know about me and my fucking skeletons in the closet! Where's yours? What's the big fucking secret? Why do I have to pull fucking teeth to get you to fucking talk about your ex? Or your drinking? Or anything fucking personal?!" He was full-blown screaming now, and I was frozen solid.

He wasn't wrong. I always avoided talking about Jeremy, at all God damn costs. He enabled my drinking, he set back my sobriety, and that was the mild stuff.

"Noah...please stop." My voice was cracking now.

"Whatever. So much for a trusting fucking relationship."

That was it. That broke the dam. That sent me spiraling.

"Are you fucking KIDDING me?! You call me, start a fucking fight, and then have the audacity to say I can't be trusted you fucking bastard?! Why? Because I don't want to talk about the asshole that drove me to drink because he was abusing me so badly?! Who slapped me around so much that only the alcohol made it bearable?! Back when I tried to kill myself, couldn't because I was so God damn drunk, and ended up going back to him because he convinced me no one else would ever love me?!"

I couldn't stop. He flipped the switch and you can't just undo that.

"Fuck you, Noah! Fuck you and your bullshit jealousy and trust issues!" Tears were streaming down my face, blurring my vision. Somewhere, I felt Angel's nose pressing into the side of my leg. "Now go the fuck to sleep before I tell you to go to hell instead!"

I ended the call, before he could respond. My shaky hands frantically turned my phone off before I could receive a text or a call back.

-

I had put my phone on vibrate all day Friday, spending the majority of the day in my bed sulking. I didn't want to talk to anyone; Laura, my Dad, most importantly, Noah. Anytime I thought about it, I started crying. I laid in bed, only getting up to let Angel out and get snacks from the kitchen. I laid in bed, watching comedy movies to try and relieve my mind.

It wasn't until I woke up Saturday morning that I finally read all of the missed texts.

The night of the fight:

Noah: Leena I'm such a fcking asshole. I'm sorry. Pleese call me back.

Noah: Babe I don't even know what got into m please.

Noah: Yourr phone is going straigt to voicemail. I guess you turned it off. I'm going to sleep now. I love you. Call me please?

Friday morning:

Noah: Is your phone back on?

Noah: Guess not.

Noah: Leena, please call me. I feel sick thinking about how dumb I was being. I promise I will never do that again. I swear. Please just respond to me.

Nick: Leena, Noah won't stop asking me to text you. Please call him.

Noah: I'm about to cancel the show tonight and fly home. Please Leena.

Noah: Nick said I can't cancel the show. Too short notice. Please call me. I need to hear your voice.

Friday evening:

Noah: Look, I've tried really hard to be patient but I'm starting to freak out. Babe, please. I was stupid. I will never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever do anything like that again. I have no idea what got into me.

Noah: I'm going to quit texting now. I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry. Call me when you're ready. I love you so much, more than you'll ever know Leena. Always.

I sighed hard. I wasn't angry anymore, mostly just hurt. I really wanted Noah to be different, but after the way he was talking, it was hard to believe. Nothing made sense. In five months, he had not spoken like that to me at all. He was always so laid back, even about things that bothered him.

Something was wrong. Something was different.

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to ponder it, as I had to get ready to drive to Escondido and get this hellscape of a day over with.

I decided to send him a response, but not give too much.

Me: I love you too. We'll talk tonight. Have a good show.

-

All things considered, the vineyard was absolutely stunning. The event was exactly how we planned, music elegant but still upbeat. The food was high-class, Kline sparing no expense. People were swaying and mingling, their drinks from the open bar settling nicely into their systems.

I was stood on a hill just out of sight of the happenings down by the massive estate home, overlooking the winery. Vines upon vines of grapes grew, causing such an incredible landscape while the sun began to set over the hills. It soothed the ache in my soul.

I heard footsteps approaching behind me, and gauging the weight of them, I rolled my eyes, knowing my moment was spoiled.

"Too good for the party?" I sighed. Sam's voice was the same as always, condescending and arrogant.

I turned, my long, olive green dress twisting at the skirt. "Nope, just taking a breather."

"Is it hard? Being around people drinking?" For once, he didn't sound like he was being judgmental, and it caught me off guard.

I shook my head lightly. "No. Not really anymore."

He nodded, standing next to me with his hands in his pockets.

"Hell of a view."

I shrugged. "It is."

He nudged my shoulder, gesturing over to a stable to his left. "Want to go see the horses?"

I smirked. "I'm okay, thank you."

He narrowed his eyes at me playfully. "C'mon, girl. Everyone loves horses!"

I chuckled. I contemplated this for a moment. I do love horses, having ridden many when I was younger.

Sam began stalking toward the barn, waving me along. "Just for a minute. You'll love them!"

I rolled my eyes, but still, I stomped after him, my heels nearly sinking into the grass beneath me.

He pulled the door open, the familiar smell of hay and feed hitting me in the nostrils. It was a comforting smell, reminding me of the horses my Dad helped tend when I was a little girl.

He walked into one of the stalls. "This one," he pulled on a rein, a stunning black horse peering out of the stall. I was drawn, walking up to her and smiling. "is mine. Her name is Onyx."

Her large nose pressed into my hand. I ran a hand up her face, reveling in the feel of her silky fur.

"She's amazing." I was in awe.

"Yeah, she's a good girl. Rides like a champ." I nodded.

"I'll bet she does." I backed away from her, peering over at Sam.

"You want to see another?" I nodded, a soft smile on my face.

He waved me down the stable, opening a stall at the end. "Come on."

I didn't see a horse, but I stepped in front of the door, confused. Sam was gone, and the stall was empty. I took a step forward just beyond the door, puzzled.

"Sam?"

It was at that exact second, a hand clapped over my mouth from behind, and a large, thick arm came to snake around me around the waist, holding my arms down to my sides and pulling me in close.

Sam had me pinned, his body pressed against my back, as I began writhing and struggling beneath him. Oh no. No, no, no, no.

I struggled as hard as I could, working my arms around in an attempt to get free. I felt his breath on the side of my face, his voice low and hushed.

"Shh, hang on there, girl. Wouldn't want anyone to know we're in here." I screamed against his hand, forcing him to clamp down harder, giving the feeling that my jaw may break.

Please, fucking, please, no.

"You've been playing this 'hard to get' bullshit for so long. It was about time we finally made it happen, huh?"

His hand over my mouth slid down to my neck, squeezing so tight that my vision began turning fuzzy.

I choked hard, trying like hell to get words out. "S-Sam, please, d-don't."

He had turned us around, pushing me against the wall of the stable. His hand that wasn't holding my throat was roaming up my skirt, his giant palm under my dress and tugging at my underwear. I thrashed again, trying like hell to get an inch so I could slip out of his grasp. It was futile. He had me, I was trapped.

I felt his fingers slipping into the hem of my panties, sneaking underneath. His hands violated me, making hot tears pour out of my eyes. I squeezed them shut, trying to just focus on having enough air to stay conscious. If I pass out, it's over.

I ignored his hands on me, and focused. His feet. His feet were the only shot I had.

I shifted my weight onto my other leg, realizing his was immediately behind mine, using both legs to keep mine spread.

I lifted my foot, and with as much force as I could muster, I jammed my heel into top of his foot, causing him to jump back, his hands releasing me at once. Without hesitation, once my arms were free, I reached my elbow back, connecting it with his face. I felt something crunch beneath my arm, but I didn't care.

As soon as he was no longer on top of me, I ran. I booked straight out of the barn, my vision slowly returning.

I was running back toward the party, up the hill. That's when I stopped. My dress was ripped on the strap, my hair was tangled up, and my makeup had to be running down my face. I was a mess. I looked insane.

I had to get the hell out.

I began sprinting to the parking lot, passing several people on my way but not stopping. I ran to my car that, thankfully, I had left unlocked, keys in the visor. I turned the engine over and tore out of the parking lot.

I didn't care that I blew past multiple stop signs. I pulled onto the interstate and drove. I drove until I couldn't see the winery behind me. Until I could barely see at all because my eyes were watering so badly. My breathing was so sporadic. My hands were screaming with how tight I had been gripping the steering wheel.

I finally snapped out of my state, realizing I needed to stop.

I pulled off on the next exit, finding a rest stop just off the highway and pulled into the parking lot. I sat there, staring out of the windshield, tears streaming, trying to calm my breathing.

It took me a moment to realize I had stopped, and for my brain to begin functioning again.

I picked up my phone, opening it and ignoring texts and missed calls and going straight to my contacts.

I pressed 'Call' and waited for the line to pick up.

"Hey babes, what's up?" Laura's voice rang through the line.

"I need help."

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic

[montydollcrew2]

Back in April I got to take Cygnus to Tenshi no Sato in Kyoto! I’ve been wanting to do this for ages and it was a really nice experience. So here’s a recap!

It was actually the second time I’d been to Sato, the first time was back in 2017 which I wrote about on my old doll blog. I was new to SD then but now 6 years later I not only was able to better appreciate the museum and the significance of a lot of the dolls in there, but I also got to experience it with a doll I really, really treasure (that’s not to say Finn (Renee at the time) isn’t important, I had just literally only just got that doll at the time).

Anyway, just like last time there are limited areas where photos are allowed, which unfortunately means no photos of the museum floor again. This is a shame because there were a lot more dolls this time - including boyhood Cecile, so it would have been cute to have a pic of Cygnus in front of his original form. It was cool to see all the Oath of Silver Coin dolls together though - it was also the first time I’d seen SD17 Captain Cecile in person, and I still want him really bad ;-;

Anyway here’s the requisite pics of Cygnus in the main meeting area at the big table. Sato changes out the flowers seasonally, and the ones during my visit were gerbera.

But the main reason I took him to Sato was to do the Omukae ceremony with him. In the 2017 post about Sato I did on my old blog, I misunderstood the Omukae Ceremony as something you could only do for Full Choice System dolls when you go to pick them up. But it’s actually something you can do for any Volks dolls regardless of when or how you got it. So what is it? It’s kind of the culmination of a lot of the fan culture surrounding Volks dolls as being alive or extensions of yourself - it’s essentially a ceremony to celebrate the bond you have with a doll. Like you’re being soul-bonded to them on the astral plane or…something. It’s incredibly extra, but I always found it fascinating and kind of charming so after a friend did it a few years back I decided that I would too at some point, because I like being able to experience the many things Volks offers. At first though I didn’t know if I’d ever have a doll important enough for me to be fitting for the sheer level of pomp and circumstance, but Cygnus definitely fits the bill.

The Ceremony is actually available at any Volks store - I witnessed one in the Fukuoka showroom several years back. It’s just a lot more special at either Sato, or Tenshi no Mado in Harajuku first due to the alters being more decorated but also due to having more space. Plus Sato has the veiled statue of Mother SD behind the alter so it is absolutely the most extra of all location options.

When the ceremony begins, they actually close the doors to the main hall to prevent people randomly coming in and potentially ruining it (especially because this part of Sato is right at the entrance). This also means that anyone currently in that area is stuck there and forced to watch the ceremony happen (although they are given warning). The doll is put on the alter by the owner, who then sits on a chair in front of it. Here is Cygnus politely wondering what is going on when he was placed on the alter.

The lights are dimmed and the Doll Advisor (abbreviated to DAD on the certificate which tickles me) enters wearing a robe. The lights are dimmed in the room, they draw the hanging curtains around the doll to hide it from view and light candles on either side of the alter, and recite a very flowery speech about your beautiful amazing bond with your beautiful amazing doll. The speech is the same for everyone other than the names of you and your doll (which can also be your nickname or handlename, so my friend got to do theirs being constantly referred to as ‘Beby-sama’), and you receive a copy of it as a souvenir card with your names written in the spaces. I had my back to the table here because of being in the seat, but when the lights were dimmed I realised I could see the table in the reflection of the glass by the alter and there were more people than I expected, and I really hope they knew the ceremony was a thing beforehand because I can’t imagine how it would feel to suddenly be witnessing this if you had no idea what was going on.

The DAD then instructs the owner to blow out the candles, which symbolises blowing life into the doll. Then the owner opens the curtains up and picks up their soul bonded doll and turns to face whatever audience has gathered. But the thing is. While they are doing the speech and all, the music is just some gentle Ave Maria type thing, but specifically at the moment the ceremony is complete - when you pick up your doll, the song changes to a different one. The Shigetas (the couple who run Volks) have very particular music tastes and have songs and playlists they use for things - the playlist at Dolpa events is stuff like Dancing Queen and other oldies on repeat and it never changes. The song they have chosen for the omukae ceremony that has apparently been unchanged since its inception is, I shit you not, ‘Tonight I Celebrate My Love’ by Peabo Bryson and Roberta Flack. And -specifically!!!!!- the part that says ‘when I make love to you tonight’. This is a legendary injoke with English speaking volks fans so I did already know about this but I still wasn’t prepared for the exact cocktail of emotions you get when you’re having an extremely weird, almost cult-like ceremony and it’s weird but also touching because your OC means that much to you and then right at the end that song kicks in. I had a mask on which concealed my expression but I still couldn’t help but double over slightly when I picked Cygnus up, which I hope the staff interpreted as a sign of me being touched by the proceeding and not just me losing it at the stunningly inappropriate song. Here is Cygnus after the ceremony with the lights still dimmed politely wondering what just happened.

After that, my friend and I went to the cafe. The Sato cafe only has cakes and drinks, but the cakes are always cute and change seasonably. This time I was able to get a cute sakura roll cake. Cygnus watches on from the basket the staff give you to carry your dolls around the facility like baby kittens.

Anyway! That’s the omukae ceremony, amazing experience, unintentionally hilarious, I really enjoyed it, potentially confusing as all hell for any newcomer in my audience who saw it unprepared.

If you also want to get soul bonded to your super dollfie to questionable music choices, email Volks to inquire and make a reservation. If you want to do it at Sato, check the opening dates on the Sato calendar (it’s only open on weekends and a few other days each month) and send Volks an email, well in advance as they can only do a certain number of ceremonies per day.

#super dollfie cecile #ball jointed doll #volks doll #super dollfie #sd cygnus #bjd #sd cecile #tenshi no sato #event report

[rainisawriter]

Cursed Ravens – Ateez (PSF #25)

Ficography

Genre: Fluff, family, adventure, medieval au, fantasy

Prompt: Create a fairytale retelling. [The Seven Ravens by The Brothers Grimm] (@flufftober)

Word Count: 7,138

Pairing: Female Reader, Ateez (slight Reader x Hongjoong)

World: Ateez

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“I refuse to wear that,” you scowled at the flowery, lace-covered dress that your mother was holding up. “It’s absolutely foul.”

She sent you an exasperated look, putting her hands on her hips. “You’re such a beautiful girl, yet you insist upon looking like a man. How will you ever find a proper suitor to marry, my child?”

You rolled your eyes at the question. “If a man cannot accept me as I am, I do not want him.”

She sighed deeply, falling onto the kitchen chair. “With an attitude like that, I fear you will never marry.”

That was fine with you. While most girls dreamed of finding a handsome, rich man to marry, you dreamed only of living a comfortable, relaxed life. People often said you were without ambition which, in a sense, was true. You had no real desires other than relaxing and enjoying the life you had.

Marriage, adventure, raising a family… it all sounded awfully tiresome.

Your mother meant well, truly, and she just wanted you to have a stable, happy life. As a baby, you had been deathly ill and they had been sure you were going to pass away. Thankfully, you recovered and grew up to be a perfectly healthy, beautiful young woman. However, the fear that you would fall ill again remained.

All she wanted was for you to marry a good man who could look after you, protect you, and pay for treatment should you need it. You were a complicated child, though, going against everything she wished.

Her gaze fell on you and she sighed again when she realized you were glaring at the dress as if it had personally offended you. “Are you really not going to wear it?”

“I would rather die.”

“Don’t say that!” She scowled, slapping her palm against the wood. Just hearing the phrase uttered had her heart racing within her chest, fear gripping it tightly. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, sliding down in your chair.

She sighed for a third time, rubbing at her temples. “If you’re not going to wear it, then take it to Mariette. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to wear it and it’s better than letting it collect dust. I worked hard to make it, after all.” She peered at you through her lashes, hoping the last bit would be enough to make you reconsider.

“Okay!” You didn’t hesitate for a second, jumping up from the chair and grabbing the dress. You were more than happy to rid yourself of it, knowing she couldn’t try to guilt trip you into wearing it if it was no longer inside the home.

Mariette lived on the opposite end of the village. She was a beautiful young woman just a year older than you who had dreams of marrying a prince and living within his castle. In order to achieve this, she worked hard on her appearance and mannerisms, acting as she believed a princess would.

When you arrived at her house, she was standing by the wooden gate, looking uncomfortable as the village boys showered her with praise, offered her gifts, and asked her to walk with them to the river. She clearly had no interest, but they were either too dumb to realize this or simply didn’t care.

“Oi, scatter!” you ordered them in the scariest voice you could muster. They jumped in surprise, whirling around to look at you only to scowl when they realized it was you. 

“Mind your own business!” scowled Butch, beady eyes narrowed at you.

“You’re in public, dingus. That makes it the business of whoever happens to hear your whiny little voice!”

His face flushed at the insult, eyes darting to the dress in your arms. “You just came here to woo her, didn’t you?! She’d never choose you over us!”

“Actually,” spoke Mariette, her voice clear like windchimes on a cool autumn morning. “I would. She’s quite nice and she respects my boundaries.”

“Unlike you lot,” you added, moving closer to them so you could smack them upside the head. Some of them just took it wince a wince, others managed to dodge and Butch grabbed your wrist.

“I bet you really are cursed. Just look at me.” His eyes scanned the baggy clothes you wore, resembling a male more than a female. “No wonder your brothers disappeared.”

“What in the nine hells are you on about? I don’t have any brothers.”

“Yeah, because they died when you were born!”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, pain settling inside your chest. What was he talking about? You felt confused and you were sure it was just him trying to catch you off guard and yet… there was a tiny voice at the back of your mind telling you it was true.

Mariette bit her lip when she saw the look on your face. Everyone in the village had heard the rumors of you and your seven brothers. In most houses, it was the morning gossip or a bedtime story told to young kids to get them to behave. They called you the cursed child, though the details of the story changed with each retelling.

No one had been there that night, after all, so they could only fill in the gaps with their own imaginations. You had never heard these rumors before for two main reasons – the adults made sure not to speak of it when you were around lest they be cursed, as well, and they had warned their kids to do the same. 

More importantly, you never paid any mind to the people in your village or the petty gossip they shared just to get through the day. It never concerned you so you simply never listened. 

Before you could further question him, Mariette rushed over to you, pulling up the hem of her dress so she didn’t trip. “What a beautiful dress!” she exclaimed, forcing herself between you and Butch. “Is this another one of your mother’s creations?”

“Ah… yeah…” you replied, feeling distracted as you looked between the two of them.

Butch scoffed in annoyance before turning and walking away, the other boys following him. You made a move to call out to him but Mariette stopped you.

“What are you doing here?” she questioned, offering you a sweet smile as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Does your mother need more silk? I believe we have some left.

“Ah, no…” you sent Butch one last look, a frown still on your face. When he disappeared around the corner, you shook your head and returned your attention to her, holding up the dress. “Mother asked me to give this to you.”

Her eyes lit up as she took it from your hands, holding it up to get a better look at it. “It’s absolutely stunning. Please let her know that I adore it.” She didn’t have to ask if you were sure about giving it away, knowing how you despised such things. 

“Yeah, I will. Enjoy it.” You offered her a wave and a half-hearted smile before turning and walking away.

She watched you, biting her lip because she knew what you were thinking. It was clear as day upon your face – you were going to hunt down Butch and demand answers. She wondered if she should have stopped you.

You ran down the dirt street, eyes darting back and forth as you looked for the male, heart racing within your chest. You couldn’t explain it, but you had a strange feeling of dread that had settled itself in your gut, feeling heavy and ominous. You didn’t like it, but you knew it had something to do with what Butch had said.

When you couldn’t find him, you headed straight for his house. As you raised your fist to knock, you heard his mother yelling from the back garden so you carefully approached, pressing your back against the stone wall.

“Honestly, Butch! Did I raise you that poorly?” she scowled, smacking her son on the shoulder.

“No, mama…” he muttered, lowering his head.

“Why would you say such a thing to that girl, hm?”

“I didn’t -”

“Don’t you lie to me, boy!” she smacked his shoulder again, making him wince. “Billy told me everything.” She motioned toward the young boy sitting on a fallen log, a grin on his lips as he enjoyed seeing his older brother being scolded.

Butch groaned, scowling at his mother. “What’s the big deal? Everyone talks about it, even you and pa!”

“Talking about it is one thing, but saying it to the poor girl’s face?” She shook her head, a frown on her lips. “I don’t want to think about what that poor girl would feel if she knew she was the reason her older brothers died.”

Your eyes widened, heart skipping a painful beat. What the hell was she talking about? You didn’t have any brothers… right?

You shoved away from the wall, running home so quickly that people wondered if the devil himself was on your heels. Your mother jumped in surprise when you slammed the door open, dropping the bowl of mushrooms she was carrying toward the fireplace.

She started to scold you for this but stopped dead when she saw the look on her face. She knew immediately what was on your mind. She had been dreading this moment for many years, having heard the rumors many times over. It didn’t matter how many times she or her husband threatened their neighbors to stop speaking such nonsense, they continued to do so.

“Darling!” she called to her husband, voice trembling. “Come here, please!”

Your father appeared from the bedroom, looking at her confused. “What’s wrong?” When his gaze fell on you, he instantly paled. “Sweetheart, what -“

“I want the truth!” You demanded, eyes narrowed at your parents.

The two exchanged a look, having a silent discussion on whether or not they should play dumb. They had been keeping this secret for nearly eighteen years and they were tired – tired of lying and tired of living with the guilt.

“Have a seat,” said your father softly as he sat at the head of the table. Your mother sat to his right, hands in her lap and a frown on her lips.

You sent them a suspicious look before slowly doing as he asked, settling down at the opposite end of the table and folding your arms over your chest. “Is it true? Do I really have brothers? Am I cursed? Did I kill them?”

“Of course not!” cried your mother, her eyes tearing up as emotion flooded her. “You are not cursed, my child, and you are not responsible for what happened to your brothers.”

“So I do have brothers,” you breathed out in disbelief, leaning forward. Your hands trembled against the table. “How many? What were their ages? What happened to them?”

The two exchanged a look before your father stood up, approaching the fireplace. He leaned up onto the tips of his toes, pulling a large, leather-bound book from atop a shelf before returning to the table. He brushed his hand across the cover, eyes turning glassy.

“Before you were born, we had portraits painted of them. Here,” he breathed out, sliding the book toward you.

Your hand shook as you slid it closer to you, slowly opening the cover. On the front page was a portrait of a young boy, grinning proudly. Your eyes fell to the text beneath the painting. “Seonghwa, first-born, age eight.”

“He was my little boy,” cried your mother, bringing a white cloth to her eyes. “He always helped me look after his siblings or helped me with chores.”

You turned the page, seeing two boys in this painting. They were sitting on stools beside one another, the boy on the left much taller than the other. “Yunho and Yeosang, second and third born, age nine.”

Your dad grunted bitterly. “Though they were twins, they couldn’t have been any different. Yunho was a wild child, always full of energy and constantly getting into trouble. Yeosang, on the other hand, was more level-headed. He spent most of his time trying to keep his twin from getting into trouble.”

Another page, another portrait. He was sitting on a stool, his small body seeming to curl in on itself as he peered around the giant teddy bear he was hugging. “San, fourth born, age 8.”

“What a shy boy, he was!” cried your mother, a sad smile on her lips. “He clung to me as if I were the only thing keeping him alive. He was such a sweet boy, too. Whenever someone was upset, he would offer them his teddy bear and let them know that everything would be alright.”

The next page featured two boys. The shorter of the two was standing, his arms around the neck of his taller brother, cheeks squished together. The taller boy was sitting on a stool, trying to push away his brother. “Mingi and Wooyoung, fifth and sixth born, age 7.”

“Those two were absolute chaos,” your father shook his head disapprovingly. “Wooyoung seemed quite hell-bent on tricking and pranking everyone he met. The amount of people I had to beg forgiveness from because of him…”

Your mother chuckled, patting his arm. “But he was a brilliant child, much smarter than the others his age. And our beautiful Mingi, oh the other children adored him!”

“Especially the girls,” replied your father proudly. “Though he only seemed interested in drawing or reading.”

You turned to the next page, finding a portrait of a tiny boy who stood in front of the fireplace, a blank expression on his face. “Jongho, seventh born, age 5.”

“That boy,” sighed your mother, bringing a hand to her face. “He had no fear and would do whatever the other kids dared him to, no matter how dangerous it was! Despite being the youngest, he was also the strongest, defending his older brothers whenever they found themselves in trouble.”

Your father laughed loudly, a sound that boomed throughout the home. “He’s the only five-year-old in the world who faced down a fully grown grizzly bear and scared it away!”

“I wanted to ground him for the rest of his life!” huffed your mother before her expression fell, her voice soft. “He was the most excited to meet you, you know. He was excited to finally be an older brother and I know he would have been an amazing one.”

The rest of the book contained portraits of you at varying stages of your life. Unable to hold back any longer, the tears flowed freely from your eyes, shoulders trembling. To think that you had seven brothers and never even knew… and to see the album filled with portraits of you, but so little of them.

It hurt.

“Oh, sweety,” your mother shot up, rushing over so she could throw her arms around you.

You clutched onto her dress, trying to control your sobs. “What ha-happened to t-them?”

The two exchanged a sad look.

“We’re not sure…”

“What?”

Your father stood, moving to lean against the fireplace, watching the fire as it danced beneath the cauldron. “The truth is… we’ve always dreamed of having a daughter ever since we were children ourselves. Yet, no matter how hard we tried, we kept having boys.”

“Don’t get us wrong,” added your mother softly, rubbing your head. “We adored our boys and we would do anything for them, we just wanted a girl, as well.”

“After seven boys, we finally had you…” He looked at you with so much love yet so much pain that you had to look away. “We finally had our daughter, but… but you were sick. You were so small, so frail, we were sure we were going to lose you. We sent Seonghwa to the river in order to collect fresh water for you and, of course, the others wanted to help so they followed him.”

“What happened?” you questioned softly. 

“An hour passed yet they did not return,” he explained, eyes narrowed at the flames. “I knew they had gotten distracted, they always did when they were together, so I cursed at them for not taking it seriously, wishing they would be turned to ravens for their misbehavior. I begged whatever deity I could think of to heal you and…”

Your mother’s hold on you tightened and she nearly spat the words. “We had a young woman living with us at the time, helping us to care for the boys. She said she could heal you, for a price, and we agreed. We never would have if we had known that… that…” her anger dissipated into sobs.

Realization hit you hard, eyes wide. “The price was my brothers… are… are they dead?”

“No!” replied your mother quickly. “I can feel it in my heart. My boys still live!”

“When we agreed to her deal,” your father continued. “You were healed and I heard the sound of flapping wings in the yard. When I ran to the window, I spied seven ravens flying away toward the mountains and a bucket of water spilled on the path…”

“They were cursed by that witch,” she cried angrily. 

“What became of her? Where is she?” you sat up, looking frantically between your parents. “Surely we can convince her to break the curse!”

“She’s dead,” said your father, his eyes darkening. “When she refused to bring back my boys, I flew into a rage and I beheaded her.”

Hopelessness filled you with this information, but it was quickly replaced by determination. You shot up, eyes burning. “I will find them and I will find a way to break their curse.”

“Sweety, you can’t-“

“I can and I will,” you told her, giving her a reassuring look. “Someone has to!”

The two exchanged a weary look, having a silent conversation with each other. He nodded, making her sigh deeply.

“Fine, but at least wait until morning. It will be hard to reach the mountain at night,” she all but begged you, hand on your shoulder.

You reluctantly nodded. “Okay.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“I packed you some bread, it should be enough for the journey so long as you spread it out. There’s a waterskin, as well, and a blanket in case you get cold.” Your mother held out a leather bag, biting her lip with worry.

You took it from her with a smile, placing the strap over your head and across your shoulders. “I will be fine, mother. I promise to return with my brothers.”

She nodded, tears gathering in her eyes as she threw her arms around your neck, hugging you tightly. “Oh, my brave little girl!”

You hugged her back, hoping she wouldn’t catch on to how terrified you actually felt. You had never left home before and now you were going off on your own to face god knows what in order to save brothers you had never even met before. Could you even do this? You had no idea, but you felt as if you had to at least try.

When she finally pulled away from you, your father took her place in front of you. “Here, I want you to take these.” In one hand was a large dagger and in the other was his family’s ring. “Listen, my child. This journey will not be easy and you may be forced to do something you rather would not. You must return to us, do you understand?”

Your fingers curled around the handle of the dagger, surprised by the heaviness of the steel. Though you didn’t feel confident in the promise, you agreed nonetheless, not wanting to worry them more than they already were. “I will.”

He slipped a black rope through the ring before securing it around your neck and pressing a kiss to your forehead, his beard tickling your skin. “Go well, my child, and do not let fear win over you.”

“Thank you, father, mother. I love you.” You smiled at them before turning and leaving the house. 

The sun was just beginning to peak its head over the treetops, the sky alight with orange and red, matching the leaves that covered the ground. The chill in the air was beginning to fade as the sun warmed the earth and by the time noon arrived, you were drenched in sweat.

It felt as if the sun was beating down only on you, its harsh rays trying to cook you alive. With most of the trees bare, they offered little shade to shield you. 

You fell onto a tree stump with a groan, wiping the sweat from your forehead before downing half the waterskin. You felt sluggish, energy running low from the sheer heat that you had been battling all morning. Had it always been this hot? Did it just seem worse because you’ve been trekking through the woods? You didn’t know.

You leaned your head back to look at the bright blue sky, eyes spying a bright red bird sitting on a branch high in the sky. Its head and wings were a faded yellow, black eyes staring directly at you.

You shifted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. It felt as if this bird was staring directly into your soul, as if it could read your thoughts and see what was in your heart.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself up and continued your journey through the woods. You had to keep stopping every twenty minutes or so to recharge and you even tried to use a giant elephant ear plant to shield yourself from it, though it did little.

By the time the sun rose, you were exhausted, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. You kept going, though, using the bright moonlight to guide your way. 

Much like the sun, the moon seemed to have it out for you, as well. Its streams of light felt like ice against your skin and you couldn’t control your shivering no matter how tightly you held yourself. You pulled the blanket from your bag, bringing it tightly around your shoulders before continuing on.

The blanket offered you neither comfort nor warmth.

The night was eerily silent, save for the crunch of twigs beneath your feet and the chattering of your teeth. You bore it as long as you could, deciding to stop for the night only when your eyes grew heavy. You found a hole at the base of a thick tree, curling up within it, blanket wrapped tightly around you. With the cold, it took a while before you were able to fall asleep.

Just two hours later, you were ripped violently from sleep, though you weren’t sure what had done it. You laid there unmoving, straining your ears for any noise, yet the forest remained silent. So silent, in fact, that it made your ears ring. 

Where were the crickets? The night birds? The frogs? It felt wrong.

“I smell the flesh of man,” cackled a female voice, echoing through the trees.

A chill went down your spine and you sucked in a breath, body tense.

“I smell your fear, child of man,” the voice cackled again, the sound of snapping twigs echoing loudly. “Come out, come out wherever you are~“

Your heart raced within your chest so loudly that you feared she would hear it. You slowly pulled the dagger from your bag, gripping the handle tightly. You tried to slide farther back inside the hole, but you were already up against the wood and could go no further.

Should you run? Should you hide? Fear gripped your heart, hands trembling lightly. You tried to focus on the words your father had spoken to you, but it was hard when the fear was so tightly wrapped around you.

“I found you~” A horrid face appeared in front of the hole, making you scream. Her face was long, full of wrinkles and warts. She was grinning widely, showing off sharp, inhuman teeth, many of which were broken or missing. Thin strands of white hair fell from her nearly bald scalp, framing her face.

When she reached out to you, her fingers long and boney, you acted on instinct, swinging the dagger at her. The blade sliced across her fingers, making her jump back with a loud screech. You took this chance to run, leaving behind the bag and the blanket. 

The moon was hidden by thick, grey clouds which made it hard to navigate. Various stars dotted the velvet sky, but they weren’t bright enough to light the way. A cry left your lips when your foot caught on a thick root sticking out of the ground, sending you face-first to the ground. You winced in pain, feeling a stick jabbing into your chin.

“You should be more careful dearie~“

Your gaze snapped behind you, seeing the woman slowly approaching. She was incredibly tall but looked sickly thin almost as if her skin didn’t even exist. Feathers clung to her body in odd places, resembling a bird during its molt. 

You swallowed hard, scrambling to get up but she pressed her foot against your back, shoving you back against the ground. The thick claws on her foot dung into your skin through your shirt and you clinched your teeth. 

Something caught your eye and, when you looked up, you caught sight of a small red blur shooting toward you like a rocket. You squeaked, ducking your head just before it reached you. It was the bird from before, its wings tucked against its body as it raced toward the woman.

She screeched in pain when the bird hit her square in the chest, the force so great that she ended up stumbling backward. The bird turned its head toward you and you heard a male voice within your head.

‘Run!‘ ordered the voice and you didn’t stop to question it, doing as it ordered.

“No!” screeched the woman, trying to grab you as you jumped up but the bird attacked again, keeping her occupied so you could escape.

You ran and ran until you couldn’t run anymore, legs giving out beneath you. You managed to grab a hold of a nearby tree, sliding down it as you tried to catch your breath, a stitch in your side.

There was a flap of wings before the red and yellow bird appeared, lowering its body to the fallen log in front of you. For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other and then the bird spoke, his voice seeming to be within your head.

‘This forest is not safe. No child of man should be here, especially not one so young.’

You shifted, folding your legs beneath you as you peered at him curiously. “You can speak. How can a bird speak? Have I lost my mind?”

He chuckled, ruffling his feathers. ‘You are sane, fear not. I am no bird, I am simply taking the form of one.’

Your eyes widened in surprise and you scrambled toward him, making him jump in surprise. “Please help me!”

‘The hag has been taken care of, you do not need to worry -‘

“Not that!” You shook your head. “I’m looking for my brothers. They were turned into ravens, you must know them!”

‘Your brothers, turned to ravens?’ he inquired curiously and you nodded. ‘Yes, I do know where they are. The seven ravens reside within Glass Mountain.’

A smile came to your lips, shoulders relaxing. “I’m going the right way, then. I’m so glad.”

He observed you for a moment before flapping his wings and taking off into the sky.

“Ah, wait! Come back!” you cried, jumping to your feet but he was already gone. With a frown, you sat back down against the tree, hugging yourself tightly. There were still a few hours before the sun rose and you felt exhausted, so you decided to try and get some rest.

You brought your knees to your chest, folding your arms over them to act as a pillow. Exhaling slowly, your eyes slid closed, sleep wrapping around you and pulling you into the darkness. 

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

‘Wake up child of man.’

Your eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to remember where you were. As you unfurled yourself, you winced at the stiffness in your muscles. Your body was sore, a mixture of the poor sleeping position and the attack from the hag.

‘Good morning.’

Your gaze snapped to the bird and you found yourself smiling. “Good morning… ah…”

‘Is something the matter?’

“I never asked your name,” you frowned. “I’m sorry for being so rude. And after you saved me, too!”

He chuckled. ‘My name is Hongjoong.’

“Hongjoong,” you repeated with a smile, holding your hand out to him. “Nice to meet you! And thank you for saving me last night.”

He looked at your hand curiously for a moment before lifting his wing and placing it against your hand. 

You gripped it gently, giving it a shake. “Nice to officially meet you.”

‘You, as well. I brought you something.’ He shifted to the side, pushing a key toward you with his leg. ‘If you wish to enter Glass Mountain, you’ll need this key.’

“Thank you!” You smiled brightly, making his heart pick up speed.

Hongjoong had lived for many decades yet he had never seen someone quite as beautiful as you. He loved your smile and wanted to ensure that you never lost it. ‘You still have a lot of ground to cover, child of man.’

“You’re right.” You pulled yourself to your feet, slapping both of your cheeks to wake yourself up. With a renewed vigor, you turned to face the mountain, looming menacingly in the distance. “Wait just a bit longer, my brothers. I’ll be there soon.”

Hongjoong flew into the air, landing on your shoulder as you started forward. He had always told himself that he would not interfere with the affairs of men, yet he had the strong urge to protect you and look after you. Perhaps he would come to regret this, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn away from you.

‘I shall accompany you for the rest of your journey.’

You smiled, reaching up to pat him gently on the head. “Thank you, Hongjoong!”

Warmth filled his body. ‘Of course.’

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

It took another day and a half to reach the mountain.

You were exhausted, sore and starving. You really regretted leaving behind your bag, wishing you had your mother’s bread or, at the very least, some fresh water. Despite the pain in your body, you chose to focus on what was in front of you. Your brothers should be on the other side of these large metal doors.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted the key to the lock only to pause, your hand trembling lightly. You suddenly felt wracked with nervousness. What if they hated you, blamed you for their curse? The thought made you want to cry.

Hongjoong lightly bumped his head against your cheek, hoping to give you some comfort. You smiled at him, feeling a bit more at ease as you slid the key into the lock and twisted it.

The towering doors creaked as you pushed them open, slipping inside. Rather than a cave like you had been expecting, it looked like the inside of a house, though it was made of stone from the mountain. It was cold inside, making you suppress a shiver, folding your arms over your chest for warmth.

“Excuse me, miss. Can I help you?”

You blinked, glancing around for the sound of the voice.

“Down here, miss.”

You lowered your gaze, seeing a tiny creature with pointed ears and big eyes. His hair was a mess of white-blonde hair, freckles resting across his nose. “Oh my god, you’re adorable!”

The creature’s pale skin darkened at the compliment and he bowed. “Thank you, miss. May I inquire as to what you seek here?”

“I’m looking for my brothers, the seven ravens.”

His already large brown eyes grew incredibly wider. “The masters’ younger sister? Oh my, Chan won’t believe this!”

You glanced around what looked to be an entryway. “Where are they?”

“Oh, I’m afraid the masters are out at the moment.”

“Oh…” you frowned, making the small creature panic.

“Ah, please don’t be sad, miss! The masters should return soon! You’re welcome to wait in the dining room.”

“Thank you very much,” you bowed to him before heading toward the large archway to the left where the dining room sat. There was a small wooden table in the middle of the room, places set for seven.

The smell of food flowed from the kitchen, rubbing against your nose and making your stomach whine and ache. It felt as if you hadn’t eaten in ages! You frowned, resting your arm over your stomach in a poor attempt to soothe it.

‘Are you okay?’ worried Hongjoong, tilting his head at you.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” You gave him a reassuring smile as you settled down on a chair sitting in the corner. “Soon, I will be reunited with my brothers. I just hope…” you stopped yourself short, swallowing nervously.

‘Hope what?’

Your lips parted, but you couldn’t bear to speak the words allowed; I hope they don’t hate me.

A group of tiny elves exited the kitchen, each one carrying a plate full of food that made your mouth water. They placed the dishes on the table before filling the silver goblets with sparkling water.

You tried not to look at the food, but it was as if your gaze was glued there. When the elves left the room, you swallowed hard, slowly standing up and approaching the table. You bit your lip as you stared at the grilled fish on the plates. Surely they wouldn’t mind if you just took one bite, right?

You slowly reached forward, picking a small piece of fish from the first plate. It tasted heavenly, melting in your mouth, but it wasn’t enough so you moved on to the second plate, stealing another small piece. This continued until you had sampled a piece from each plate.

Now feeling thirsty, you reached for the goblet in front of the final plate. You had intended only to take a sip, but the thirst you possessed was too great and you ended up downing all but a single sip. 

There was a sudden, loud chorus of wings flapping and, in your panic, the goblet caught on the ring. It fell from around your neck, the metal clinking as it fell into the goblet. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to hide, but you found yourself running back to the corner, hiding behind the wooden divider.

A second later, seven ravens came flying in through circular windows at the top of the wall, circling the room a few times before landing on the table, ruffling their wings.

“I’m so hungry, I could eat an entire river full of fish!” cawed Yunho, hopping over to his plate. He didn’t notice the missing piece and began pecking at it without a care in the world.

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes as he inspected the plate. “Someone has eaten from my plate.”

Curious, the others inspected their own plates before cawing in agreement. Seonghwa leaned down, sniffing the food. “It was a child of man.”

“My goblet is empty,” noticed Jongho, grabbing the side of the cup with his beak. The goblet tipped over and the ring spilled out onto the table. “What is this?”

The ravens gathered around the object, the older boys immediately realizing that it was their father’s ring. How had it gotten there?

Hongjoong glanced at you, realizing that you were frozen in place, clearly overcome with anxiety. He ruffled his feathers loudly, making a sound somewhere between a caw and a squeak.

“Who’s there?” ordered Jongho, hopping forward so that he was between his brothers and the divider you hid behind. “Show yourself!”

Hongjoong pecked your cheek gently. ‘Go on, child of man. It is time to meet your brothers.’

“I’m scared,” you whispered back, hands clenching around your pants.

‘Fear not, I am with you.’

His words comforted you greatly, giving you the confidence you needed. Taking a deep breath, you slowly stepped out from around the divider, gaze sliding across the seven ravens sitting on the table.

“Who are you?” demanded Jongho, ruffling his feathers in an attempt to be intimidating. “How did you get in here?”

“I, uh… well…” you shifted your weight from foot to foot, trying to find the proper words but you were overwhelmed with emotion. These were your brothers. Your older brothers that you had never met before, your older brothers who didn’t even recognize you.

Tears gathered in your eyes and, despite trying to hold them back, they slid down your cheeks. Before you could stop yourself, you rushed forward and threw your arms around Jongho’s small body, sobbing into his soft, black feathers.

“W-What are you doing?!” he cried in alarm. “Release me at once!”

“Good job, Jongho,” scoffed Wooyoung, wing against his hip. “You made her cry.”

Hongjoong landed atop the table beside you with a chuckle. “I gave her the key.”

“Hyung!” cried Mingi happily, hopping over to the colorful bird and bumping his head against Hongjoong’s. “We were wondering where you went.”

“Sorry, I had business to attend to.”

“Will someone please get this child of man off of me!” 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, pulling away from him and rubbing at your tears.

San frowned, hopping over to you cautiously. “Please don’t cry, it’s okay…”

Seonghwa picked up the ring, carrying it over to you before dropping it onto the table. “Tell me, how did you come by this ring?”

“It’s our father’s…”

“Our?!” chorused Mingi and Wooyoung, all of the ravens staring at you in surprise.

Seonghwa stared at you for a moment before gasping, your name coming out in an exhale of air. “Is it really you?”

You nodded, looking at him sadly.

He didn’t hesitate to throw himself at you, wings spread in an attempt to hug you. “Oh, my beautiful baby sister! How long it’s been!”

You hugged him back, careful not to hurt him as you fought against a fresh wave of tears.

“Baby sister?” Jongho tapped his foot against the wood in confusion, the memory slowly resurfacing as he, too, spoke your name. Without a moment of hesitation, he threw himself at you, settling on your shoulder and nuzzling against your neck.

Yeosang and Yunho exchanged a look before gleefully calling out your name and tackling you. One by one, each raven made their way over to you, hugging you as best they could.

You had always felt loved by your parents, but that was nothing compared to the warmth and love that you felt from your brothers. Despite having only just met each other, the love you shared for each other was pure and untainted.

Hongjoong felt his body growing warm, white light encasing him and the ravens. In a sudden flash, all eight of them returned to normal in a flash of light and smoke.

The curse had been broken.

The combined weight of the boys was too much for you and you cried out in surprise, falling onto the ground with a huff. They fell on top of you, knocking the wind from your lungs.

“We’re human again!” grinned Yunho, holding out his hand to inspect it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt his fingers. 

Wooyoung threw his arms around San, laughing gleefully at the fact that he could finally hug his brothers again.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, looking between them. “You were cursed because of me, I…”

Seonghwa smiled softly, resting his hand atop your head. “No, little sister, you broke the curse. Thank you for coming for us.”

Jongho nodded in agreement, turning toward Hongjoong. “Thank you for watching over her, hyung.”

You followed his gaze, eyes widening at the beautiful man sitting atop the table. His eyes met yours and he smiled softly, bringing warmth to your face. 

He was breathtakingly beautiful, with rich brown eyes and hair the color of crimson. His ears were pointed, various earrings dangling from them, and his skin was without flaw.

You swallowed nervously, managing to pull yourself from beneath the pile of boys. You struggled to maintain eye contact, heart racing within your chest. “Thank you,” you breathed out.

“For what?” he wondered, tilting his head to the side.

“For saving me. For guiding me here and giving me the key. And… for watching over my brothers. Thank you, Hongjoong!” You bowed to him, making his eyes widen and butterflies erupt within his stomach.

Why did you have to be so cute?

He slid off the table, resting his hands on your shoulders so you’d stand up straight. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m happy I was able to help you, child of man.”

“Are you… also not a child of man?”

“Afraid not,” he replied softly, the tips of his fingers brushing against your cheek. The warmth he felt there made him happy, knowing he was the cause. “Even elves are not immune to the curse of a witch.”

“An elf,” you breathed out in surprise. “That explains why you are so beautiful.”

The compliment caught him off guard, cheeks dusting with pink. “You… find me to be beautiful?”

“Unbelievably so,” you admitted. “And so very kind.”

“You are, as well.” His tone was genuine, hand resting against the side of your neck. “You are brave and strong, unlike any child of man I have ever met before. I knew from the moment I saw you wandering through the woods -“

“Oi, just kiss her already!” called out Wooyoung with a grin, earning a slap from Jongho. “Oi, what was that for?!”

“You ruined the moment,” he huffed, arms folded over his chest.

Seonghwa chuckled at his younger brothers, eyes sparkling as he looked fondly at you. “Shall we return home, little sister?”

“Yes, please!” you replied tiredly. “I cannot wait to sleep in my own bed again and to eat mother’s potato soup.”

Mingi whined at this. “Mother’s soup… it’s been an age since we tasted it! Hyung, let’s hurry home!” His fingers gripped the sleeve of the eldest’s shirt. 

He nodded. “Let’s go home!”

The boys cheered happily, heading for the large stone doors. Your hand slid into Hongjoong’s, unable to meet his gaze when he sent you a confused look.

“Let’s go home,” you told him softly.

His fingers threaded through your own before he brought your hand to his lips, unable to hold back his smile. “Yes… let’s.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

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