#like I had to sit down and store all the evidence in one spot
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Pairing: Noah x Reader
Word Count: 1886
MasterList
Author's Note: A continuation of If You're There
ALSO - Let me know how you like this; I've been battling whether to keep doing cute things like this (I don't see as many cute things) or try to branch out to other things.
It’s finally happened. Noah finally realized that he was extremely burnt out and running on fumes, which led him to cancel his highly anticipated European tour. You had seen this coming for months but couldn’t convince him to take time for himself due to his relentless work ethic and a one-track mind. Despite your best efforts, his hard-working drive kept him pushing forward until he could no longer ignore the exhaustion.
Even though Noah is finally home, you haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks and have barely heard from him, which is unusual and increasingly concerning. You start to worry more and more, as you have never seen him in such a state before. His silence and isolation are alarming, making you realize just how serious his condition might be. With all the times Noah has gone out of his way to help you out of a rut, you know deep down that it's time to return the favor and be there for him. Today, you decide that you are going to go over to his house and show him so much love and support that he has no choice but to get better. You are determined to help him through this challenging period with your unwavering presence and care.
You pack two giant tote bags of things you know he enjoys, hoping to lift his spirits. One of the bags is stuffed with his favorite sweets, treats, and drinks, from gourmet chocolates and artisanal cookies to his preferred craft soda brand. You even include a few savory snacks that he always raves about. The other bag is filled with items that hold personal significance, things of yours that you know will help him feel more comfortable and connected. Among these is the stuffed animal he won for you at a carnival last summer, a cherished memento of happier times. You spray your signature scent on it, ensuring it carries the comforting fragrance that reminds him of you. Additionally, you include a cozy blanket you've often shared on movie nights and a couple of your favorite books he has shown interest in. You hope these familiar items will create a sense of warmth and closeness, even in your physical absence.
On your way to his house, you stop by the store and pick up a video game that he’s been wanting but has always been too busy to grab and play. Once you secure it, you continue to his house, hoping this small gesture will brighten his day. When you walk up to the house, you are greeted by Nicholas with a warm smile. He steps aside and lets you in, welcoming you with a friendly, reassuring nod. As you go to Noah’s room, you exchange greetings with the others in the house, receiving sympathetic looks and encouraging words. The familiar surroundings and friendly faces bolster your resolve as you approach Noah’s door, ready to offer him the comfort and support he desperately needs.
With a gentle knock, you enter his room and are greeted by a messy space, clothes strewn about, and empty bottles scattered on the floor. Closing the door behind you, you step further into the room, spotting Noah lying in bed, his hair gently poking out from the cocoon he has rolled himself into. You carefully set everything down by his gaming chair, ensuring not to make too much noise. Quietly, you walk over to his bed and gently sit on the edge next to him, trying not to cause too much of a stir as the bed dips under your weight. You rake your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness under your touch, and he begins to stir slightly, a faint sign of awareness.
“Baby?” he murmurs slowly, sleep evident in his voice. You gently hum in response and watch as he slowly turns toward you. Your heart breaks a little when you see his face—heavy bags under his eyes and a look of brokenness that makes you want to cry. But you hold it together, giving him a small smile that he tries to return. Without warning, he pulls you down so that you are lying beside him, placing his head on your sternum and wrapping his arms tightly around your torso. You feel his grip, desperate and seeking comfort, and you instinctively wrap your arms around him, hoping to provide the solace he needs.
As you hear sniffling, your shirt starts to feel damp. You rub little circles on his back and let him cry, offering silent comfort. His body trembles with each sob, and you can feel the weight of his sorrow pressing against you. “Why am I like this?” he asks, his voice cracking with pain and confusion. Your heart shatters at his words, the anguish in his question tearing at your soul. You hold him tighter, wishing you could somehow absorb his hurt and make it disappear.
"It's okay, baby," you whisper, your voice soothing and steady. "Everyone goes through tough times. It's not your fault." You continue to rub his back, the repetitive motion a small but comforting gesture. His grip on you tightens as if he's afraid you'll vanish if he lets go. "You're not alone," you murmur, kissing the top of his head. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
He cries harder, the dam of his emotions entirely breaking, and you can feel the full force of his despair. You just hold him, knowing that sometimes words aren't enough, and the best thing you can do is be there, offering your unwavering support and love. "We'll get through this together," you promise, your voice filled with conviction. "One step at a time."
As time passed, his sobs lessened, gradually becoming soft sniffles. You continued to hold him, your fingers gently caressing his back, until he finally calmed down. Once he was done crying, he lifted his head and looked at you with red, tear-stained eyes. “I love you to the moon and back,” he murmured, his voice tender and filled with emotion.
You leaned down and gently kissed him, pouring all your love and reassurance into that moment. "I love you more than anything," you whispered back, your words a heartfelt promise. He nestled back into your arms, and you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth, both finding solace in the shared silence.
“What’s in the bags?” he asked, his curiosity piqued, causing you to giggle.
"I brought you some surprises," you say with a smile. You gently extricate yourself from his embrace and reach over to the bags you had placed by his gaming chair. "One of these is full of your favorite sweets, treats, and drinks," you explain, pulling out a bag of his favorite candies and a bottle of his preferred soda. "I know how much you love these."
He watches with a faint smile as you continue. "And in this bag," you say, lifting the second tote, "are some things to make you feel more comfortable." You pull out the stuffed animal he won for you at the carnival, now freshly sprayed with your signature scent. "I thought this might help you feel a little better," you say, handing it to him.
You also pull out a cozy blanket and two books you love. "And I made a stop on the way here," you add, pulling out the video game he's been wanting. His eyes widened in surprise.
"Thank you," he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. "You always know how to make things better."
You smile and give him another kiss. "That's what I'm here for," you say softly. He sits up entirely and stretches, the tension in his body starting to ease. Getting up, he pulls you into a warm hug, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, his breath tickling your skin.
Eventually, Noah lets go and turns his attention to the bags. With a newfound energy, he starts pulling everything out, his eyes lighting up with each item. "This is amazing," he says, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he inspects the sweets, treats, and stuffed animals.
When he gets to the video game, his excitement is palpable. "I can't believe you got this!" he exclaims, looking at you with gratitude and joy. "This is exactly what I needed."
You smile, feeling a warmth in your heart at seeing him so happy. "I thought we could have a fun-filled night," you say. "We can play the game, eat some snacks, and relax together."
Noah nods eagerly, his earlier sadness starting to fade. "That sounds perfect," he says, and you can see the spark of his old self returning.
As he sets up the game, you both make yourselves comfortable on his bed, surrounded by the remnants of the snacks you brought. After a little while of playing together, you decide to take a break and opt to watch him for a while. Grabbing the blanket you brought over, you drape it over yourselves for extra coziness. You also grab one of the books from the bag, intending to take turns between reading and watching him play. As he navigates through the game, you find yourself engrossed in the story, occasionally glancing up to see his reactions to different challenges or victories.
You offer verbal support whenever he encounters challenging situations, your words of encouragement ringing out in the room, echoing his determination to overcome obstacles. When he finally manages to defeat a particularly demanding boss, you can't help but join in his celebration, the room filled with shared laughter and triumphant cheers as you revel in his success together.
As the night wears on and the hour grows later, Noah decides to take a break from gaming and suggests transitioning to a movie instead. With a smile, he guides you to the bed, where you both settle in comfortably amidst the plush blankets and pillows, sinking into a cocoon of warmth and relaxation. Noah orders a pizza, ensuring it's topped with all your favorite ingredients, and arranges an array of snacks and drinks within arm's reach, creating a cozy haven for the two of you to enjoy. The room is enveloped in the comforting aroma of freshly baked pizza, and the soft glow of the screen casts a warm light as you snuggle up together.
Observing Noah's mood shifting more positively fills your heart with relief and happiness. The weight of his earlier struggles seems to dissipate, replaced by a lightness and ease that brings a genuine smile to both your faces. In this moment, surrounded by superficial pleasures and each other's company, you find solace in the shared moments of peace and contentment. As the movie plays softly in the background, you both sink deeper into the comfort of the bed, the warmth of each other's presence enveloping you like a gentle embrace. The worries and stresses of the outside world fade away, leaving only the tranquility of the present moment.
Eventually, the day's fatigue catches up with you both, and you find yourselves drifting off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. The soft rhythm of your breathing syncs harmoniously, creating a symphony of peace that washes over you both, carrying you into a restful slumber filled with nothing but serenity and love.
#bad omens band#noah sebastian#bad omens#noah sebastian davis#bad omens fic#bad omens fanfiction#fanfic#noah sebastian fanfiction#noah sebastian x reader#bad omens fluff#noah sebastian x you#noah sebastian fic#noah sebastian fluff#fluff#bad omens cult
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Part One / Part Two / Part Three (you're here)/ Part Four
A03
It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities.
Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking.
Right.
Pain management.
“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot.
Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice.
The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit.
"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer.
It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open.
Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it.
Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed.
Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up.
"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick."
Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed."
"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit.
The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it.
Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store.
“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted.
It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.
"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand.
It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.
In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…
Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.
Sure enough, matching bruises.
Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed.
Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed.
He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture.
Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.
'What the hell went down in that mall.'
Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.
All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday.
Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?
Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire.
Wayne couldn’t even imagine it.
Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…
He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights.
‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’
Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.
Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.
Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two.
It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this.
He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight.
A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .
All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches.
Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.
"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over.
He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home.
Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.
Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it.
Not in general, and definitely not for this.
What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.
Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill.
Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.
"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go.
He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good."
And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.
"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."
He poured on two.
Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.
Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes.
He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced.
This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo.
"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago.
"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly.
The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything.
Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons.
It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them.
"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"
"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."
"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental.
Like they were back to talking sports.
"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth.
"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face.
"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."
Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."
"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.
Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.
Or at least his did.
"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."
He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.
Boy like Steve?
He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.
(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)
"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch."
"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least.
It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off.
The damage had him whistling out of instinct.
A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side.
Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife.
"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.
Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know."
He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face.
Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door.
"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?"
"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"
"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed.
Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.
"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react.
“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne.
Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?”
“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.
Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.”
Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high.
He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”
“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train.
All gas, no breaks.
It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant.
‘Dammit.’ Wayne thought with a sigh.
He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats.
“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”
That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid.
Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish.
“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve.
Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit.
"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"
It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face.
He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.
"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?”
“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.”
This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time.
God save him from idiot teenagers.
Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking.
To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills.
Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.
Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit.
Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind.
“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?”
He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb.
“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,”
He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.”
Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.
“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious.
Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases.
Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”
Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position.
“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent.
“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.”
He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed.
“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”
Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath.
“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”
Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation.
‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.
No use for it, though.
Not if he wanted peace in his home.
“Good.” Wayne said.
Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room.
The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer.
Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways.
“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”
Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag.
“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both.
“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked.
“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep.
A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with.
It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him.
“You need a different one?”
Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute.
Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure.
“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on.
Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet.
He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on.
He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.
On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain.
This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out.
‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ��What the hell has life done to you.’
It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid.
Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse.
He just had to find the right words.
#small town rumors#steddie#pre steddie#wayne pov#outsider pov#wayne munson is a bamf#hey look eddie showed up!#little shit FOUGHT ME and is still fighting me a bit in the next chapter#I need him to quit being an asshole and go into more of that hurt/comfort section of this fic#hurt/comfort#enemies to lovers#sorta#its on a03 noooowstranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#0o0 fanfics#beat to shit steve harrington
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omg reader and jack making hotch a cute personal christmas present together would absolutely melt my heart 😭❤️ (and hotch's too)
hi lovely! thank u sm for ur request i hope u like it <333 | 0.8k of fluff with jack and hotch!
Aaron Hotchner breathes warmth into your life.
It’s in everything he does. The way he stocks his cupboards with your favorite snacks, the drawers in his dresser that are now yours, the extra hook by the door for your jacket. You never thought you’d find someone like him, someone who treats you so well.
It isn’t just with you, either.
There’s his team and how highly they speak of him, how highly he speaks of them, too. And, of course, there’s his son.
Jack looks up to his dad in a way that tugs at your heartstrings whenever you see it. He sits in his office with him whenever Hotch will let him, even highlights and writes over fake files Aaron gives him that are much more innocent than the ones the BAU actually deal with.
And because Aaron raised him, Jack has that same warmth his father does, only he doesn’t try to conceal it nearly as much.
You’d been worried at first, about what Jack would think of you, how he’d react to a new person in not only his life, but Aaron’s, too. Now, all you feel is lucky that you get to be a part of their life.
With Christmas coming up, you feel luckier than ever.
Jack had waited until Aaron was in the washroom the last time you were over to ask you if you’d help him make a gift for Hotch, and your answer of ‘of course’ was simple as breathing.
Now, you’re sitting with Jack at the kitchen table, Aaron still at the office. You picked him up from school—something you’re happy to do whenever Hotch needs the help, something that makes you feel lucky, too—and went to the craft store before coming back and setting up.
There are supplies spread across the table, markers and glue, stickers and printed pictures.
“Can you pass me the blue, please?” Jack asks you.
You smile, handing him the marker he asked for and smiling even bigger at his sweet ‘thank you.’ Then, you hear the jingle of keys turning in the door, and you and Jack look at each other surprised, his eyes wide.
“How about this,” you say, “I’ll distract your dad, you hide his present, yeah? We’ll finish it next time, promise.”
Jack nods, his face serious like you’ve just given him a real mission. He starts packing things up right away.
Aaron rarely comes home early, no matter how much he wants to. He’s focused, determined, always doing as much as he can while he’s in the office. So, whenever he gets the chance, he tries to get home sooner. To get home to Jack. To you.
His shoulders feel lighter as soon as he steps inside, as soon as he hears the muffled sound of your voice, the response of his son’s laughter.
You come out of the kitchen, the neckline of your t-shirt loose over your shoulder, a pair of Aaron’s socks bunched at your ankles. “Hey, Hotchner. You’re home early.”
“Hi, honey.” Aaron sets his things down, opting to get you in his arms, instead. He reaches for you at the same time you move towards him, like magnets. He trails his fingertips down your arms, holding your hands in his. “Where’s Jack?”
You squeeze Aaron’s hands once before letting go. “One second.”
You turn back to the kitchen, peeking your head in to find that Jack has, for the most part, cleared the table of any evidence. When you look at him, he gives you a thumbs up, “all clear.”
Hotch knows something’s going on with the way you’re acting. He is a profiler, after all. But he decides not to ask, because he trusts you, and he figures he’ll find out soon enough.
You’ve never been the best at keeping secrets from him.
He comes into the kitchen after you, tossing an arm around your shoulders and tugging you closer so he can press a kiss to the side of your head.
“Dad!” Jack cheers, rushing to hug Aaron’s legs.
“Hey, buddy.”
When Aaron looks at the table, he notices that Jack must’ve missed a spot when hiding any evidence, leaving behind two markers. Red and green.
He can feel his heartbeat do something funny in his chest, jumping, skipping, like the rhythm has shifted to beat in a different pattern. He thinks about what you must’ve been doing: making some sort of gift with Jack.
Aaron didn’t think he could love his family anymore, then you came into it and everything felt right, like you’d been the last puzzle piece to click into place.
He pats Jack on the shoulder and kisses your head again.
And on Christmas morning, when Aaron opens the scrapbook you and Jack made him, his smile is instant and wide. He swears he feels his heart swell in his chest.
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner blurbs#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner imagines#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotch fluff#hotch blurbs#hotch blurb#agent hotchner#ssa aaron hotchner#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch x you
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Steve was going to die crouched behind a picnic table in an unfamiliar town. That’s how he saw it, anyway.
He’d been looking for Robin. That’s where it all went wrong. She hadn’t shown up for work at the video store that Saturday morning. It wasn’t like her. The two had just started at their new job and it was a goddamn Saturday. Steve had been run off his feet all day.
At the end of his shift, he couldn’t help but look for her. Since the incident with the Russians, both he and Robin had their days where they would disappear, but they’d always let the other know they were safe.
Steve never used to be a worst-case-scenario kind of guy until everything with The Upside Down. All day he’d felt panic rising in his stomach. What if she’d been taken by demogorgons or kidnapped by secret government operatives?
He drove the BMW past all of Robin’s familiar haunts. She wasn’t at home or at Steve’s place. The school was closed, so she couldn’t be at band and she’d have asked him to drive her to the movies.
That’s when he started to check the places he didn’t want to find her. The Junkyard, Lover’s Lake, and the remains of the Hawkins lab. She wasn’t there. It was then he recalled a conversation they’d had last Sunday.
“All right, I’ve got some more evidence,” Robin had exclaimed days before, and Steve had known exactly what she was talking about.
“Well don’t hold out on me, Rob,” Steve pushed, pulling out a notebook he should’ve been using to keep track of people’s late rental returns.
Instead, it harboured two columns and a series of tallies, an ode to their Scoops Days Steve was secretly proud of thinking up. ‘Vicky likes boobies’, proclaimed one column while the other argued, ‘Vicky doesn’t like boobies’. He’d never said he was mature. Plus Steve got a kick out of watching Robin squirm. They’d been trying to work out if Vicky was a viable crush. Steve thought she was but so far the columns were an even split.
“Last night I saw her car parked outside the fairgrounds in the next town over. Any other day of the week and I wouldn’t think it was weird, but Saturday night, it’s a spot, you know?” Steve didn’t know.
“A spot?” He echoed.
“Yeah, you know? Like how skull rock is ‘a spot’ but it’s only for certain kinds of people.” Steve’s brow pinched together and he nodded.
He could imagine what Robin was implying. He’d added another tally to his favourite side and thought nothing more of it until he’d run out of places to look for Robin in Hawkins. It was a Saturday night. It was a long shot, but he’d take it.
Steve drove to the next town over and was surprised to see a smattering of cars at the fairground. There were a handful of boys in their twenties sitting on picnic benches around a boombox playing music Steve was vaguely familiar with. Then there were a couple of girls sipping beer and passing the bottle around.
If you didn’t know, it’d seem like any other half-assed party but if you knew what to look for, you’d know you were in the right place. Steve didn’t know when he’d become the kind of person who knew what to look for.
One of the guys had his hand tucked into the back pocket of another’s jeans. Then, of course, he saw his fair share of coloured hankies, carabineers and key rings. Sometimes, Steve actually listened when Robin talked to him about that kind of stuff. He figured it must get lonely, not having anyone to talk to about those things. He wanted to be a good friend even if he couldn’t relate to Robin. Steve liked girls. That was the beginning and end of it.
He studied each of the partygoers' faces and felt his throat begin to constrict. Robin wasn’t there. Where the hell was she? This had been the last stone left unturned. Now what?
Steve’s heartbeat was a kick drum, threatening to crack his ribs in two as it burst from his chest cavity. His vision began to tunnel and a ringing in his ears swelled to a crescendo as he crouched behind an abandoned picnic table.
What if something happened to her? How the hell was he meant to find her?
Steve felt a hand on his shoulder.
He looked up with a start, almost leaping out of his skin when he saw one of the boy’s faces inches from his. The space was dark, illuminated only by the moon and the intermittent flickering of car headlights.
“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” The boy instructed.
His voice was vaguely familiar, but Steve couldn’t string together a coherent set of thoughts. His body was focused on not keeling over. He tried to copy the overdramatised rise and fall of the boy’s chest.
“There you go,” the boy soothed as Steve’s breathing evened out.
“Guessing, it’s your first time here. Don’t worry too much about it. The first time I went to a gay bar in Indy I had a panic attack in the bathroom.” Munson. The voice belonged to Eddie Munson, Steve’s brain supplied at last.
They’d gone to high school together. Though Steve wasn’t sure if the guy had graduated. He vaguely recalled Eddie hating all jocks on principal and Steve had tried to give the boy a wide berth because of it. Turned out he was the type to hang out at gay bars. Okay.
There was no way Eddie recognised Steve. He was being way too nice to him. Maybe Munson was a good guy. Steve hadn’t taken the time to find out back then. Steve hadn’t really been a good person. He was trying hard to be better.
“No one’s tried to push you into anything, right? Because that’s not what this place is about. I might not be able to kick anyone’s ass, but I know a guy who could,” Eddie commented, confirming Steve’s suspicions. He was a good guy.
“No. I’m good... I’m looking for someone,” Steve breathed, hoping maybe Munson would’ve seen Robin.
Then again, if Eddie hadn’t seen her, he’d be outing Robin, which Steve knew was a shitty thing to do. Eddie spoke before Steve had the chance to decide what he was going to say.
“You see him around?” Eddie asked, moving to sit beside Steve on the grass, scanning the crowd.
Oh. Eddie assumed Steve was... That was fair. He was at ‘a spot’. He guessed he could work with that.
“I think he stood me up,” Steve covered, looking for an excuse to get out of there.
“His loss,” Eddie mused, placing a hand on Steve’s knee. Oh, no. Flirting.
“I should get out of here,” Steve stuttered, jerking upwards.
“Right, shit. Sorry. Too strong,” Eddie spoke half to Steve, half to himself as he stood up and dusted grass from his jeans.
“Don’t let me spook you. Seriously. You look like you need a night out. I can sit all the way over there and we can pretend this never happened,” Eddie proposed.
Steve was dreading the ride back to Hawkins, knowing if he went home now, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Steve surprised himself by shaking his head.
“No, I don’t want you to... just... don’t go. This isn’t something I do. I could use the company.” Steve was surprised at the words as they left his mouth. In what world did Steve Harrington want to hang out with Eddie Munson?
“Alright, no funny business, I promise. I’ve got some beer in a cooler. We could keep things all PG-13,” Eddie proposed, leading Steve to where the aforementioned cooler was stashed on a free picnic bench.
“I’ve got to drive back home, but I could stay for a bit,” Steve remarked, sitting down beside Eddie’s cooler on the tabletop.
He tried to focus on the distant music and the sound of passing cars. His thoughts kept returning to Robin. He dug his thumbnail into the table, scratching at the splintering wood as he tried to stop his mind from reeling.
“Is your place far from here?” Eddie questioned, sitting beside Steve and lounging back on his elbows, glancing up at the night sky.
“That wasn’t a preposition, by the way,” Eddie clarified quickly.
“I was just trying to make conversation. Christ, man. I’m shit at this.”
“Shit at what?” Steve questioned absentmindedly, glad to have a distraction.
Eddie grabbed a strand of hair and coyly hid a smile behind it.
“You know. Talking to pretty guys.’
It wasn’t like no one had called Steve ‘pretty’ before. They had. But they’d always done it as an insult. He’d heard the word, ‘pretty boy’, spat through gritted teeth a handful of times, but no one had ever made it sound like a good thing, like something Steve wanted to be.
It was strange. Steve hadn’t been lying when he said this wasn’t something he usually did. He wasn’t gay. He didn’t hang out with men in a way that walked the tightrope between platonic and flirtatious, but he’d gone on a lot of dates with girls, some that’d been far worse than the way his night was panning out. Steve was surprised at just how comfortable and familiar the setting felt.
“I’m from Hawkins,” Steve admitted, feeling Eddie’s keen eyes on his profile.
“Small world. Me too.” Everyone knew everyone in Hawkin’s. It’d only be a matter of time before Eddie placed him. Then what? He couldn’t imagine Eddie would want to hang out with him for long after that.
“I came here with a buddy but I’m pretty sure he’s screwed off by now, you mind giving me a lift? Think we could both use the company.”
Steve was always driving the kids around, that’s what he was good at, and it’d be a distraction. Steve nodded before he could think any better of it.
“I can do that. You say the word,” Steve muttered and followed Eddie’s eyes to the stars.
“Soon, give me a few minutes to enjoy the view”.
That was the one good thing about small towns in the dead of night. The stars could really shine, painting their way across the sky, all milk and moonbeams. For once, Steve wasn’t thinking of the things lurking in the shadows.
He could hardly make out the features of Eddie’s face, but he couldn’t help but think, if this was like the dates he’d been on with girls, this was the point where he’d kiss them. It’d be romantic. At heart, Steve had always been a romantic.
A car pulled up close to the two boys, bathing them in yellowed light. Eddie’s face turned to look at Steve. His eyes swelled wide with recognition. He’d expected Eddie to be shocked, this was the last place Steve would expect to find himself on an ordinary day. What he didn’t anticipate was Eddie jerking back as though Steve had physically hit him, his body tumbling backwards off the bench and onto the grassy lot.
“Holy Hell, Harrington,” Eddie choked out, as he tried to pull himself back to his feet, staggering. Right. Steve should’ve known this wasn’t going to end well. He should just leave now.
“I thought your voice sounded familiar. Christ. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Here? Holy shit.”
Steve stood, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to eyeball the best path to the Beamer, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but there.
“I’m going to go...” Steve began but was cut off by a wild flailing of limbs and Eddie’s hand encircling his wrist.
“Sorry. Shit. Sorry. Steve, Stevie. Wait. You surprised me.” Eddie placated, his eyes swollen wide as he looked at his fingers around Steve’s limb. It was as though his body had grabbed Steve of its own volition.
Steve couldn’t help but notice the muffled conversations from the surrounding tables had quietened.
“I get it if you don’t want to take me home, but I won’t tell anyone... you know. Cross my heart, dude.”
Steve hadn’t been worried about that until now. His heart rate sped up again. He wasn’t queer but if rumour got around. His dad would kill him. Steve wasn’t sure that the statement was hyperbolic. Eddie must have seen something in Steve’s face, because his grip on his wrist tightened.
“Promise I won’t. Look, somehow I’ve managed to collect your little flock of ducklings into my D&D club at school. They think you’re a good dude. That’s good enough for me.”
Steve trusted Eddie. He shouldn’t. He told himself he was dumb for doing so, but his instincts won out.
“Well, come on then, if you still want a ride,” Steve grumbled, pulling Eddie along with him to the BMW.
The two talked on the ride back to Hawkins, but all of it was inconsequential. It was just what Steve needed. Eddie rambled about the kids, something he and Steve had in common. It was the only thing Steve knew they had in common besides the fact Eddie thought they were gay, or at least that they both liked men.
It should’ve been awkward talking to Eddie, knowing the guy would’ve slept with him if given the chance, but surprisingly it wasn’t. Maybe that’s how Robin had felt about him at the beginning of their friendship. No. Don’t think about Robin. She was safe. She had to be. Steve would know if she wasn’t.
“What happened to you, Steve?” He heard Eddie ask out of the blue and realised his fingers had been gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned bone white.
Steve didn’t know how to answer the question in a way that wouldn’t spur on deeper probing, so he said, “Nothing”. The reply seemed to tell Eddie everything he needed to know.
“I guess I grew up,” Steve supplied lamely.
“I wasn’t talking about how you don’t hang out with the same dicks from school. You stopped doing that before you graduated. Don’t ask me how I know that. Don’t make me say it. You’ve always been pretty, is all I’ll say. This is different. You never used to look so... haunted.”
What was Steve supposed to say to that? He didn’t say anything, just turned the radio up and wondered how Eddie Munson, of all people, saw right through him.
When they pulled up out front of the Munson’s trailer, Eddie paused, looking Steve over.
“Hey, Harrington? You still all on your lonesome in that big old mansion of yours?” Steve rolled his eyes but nodded.
“Well, would you look at that? Me too. I mean, minus the mansion. Want to not be alone, together?”
“I’ve got work in the morning,” Steve deflected as he found himself switching off the car and following Eddie up to the front door.
“Won’t bother me. I sleep like the dead.”
Steve was a horrible sleeper, not that it would matter. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night. Maybe in the morning if he couldn’t find Robin he should call Nancy. She knew everything about missing friends, about knowing something was wrong and yet feeling like you had no one to turn to. He wished he’d been that person for Nancy years before but he hadn’t and there was nothing he could do about that now.
Steve found himself tucked into the corner of Eddie’s bed. The two boys had stripped off their jeans but kept their shirts on. He kept comparing the night to dates he’d had in the past. He kept thinking how easy it felt to do the same with a man. Steve liked women, he knew that, but he was beginning to entertain the idea he might be able to like men. Couple that crisis with his worries that Robin was somewhere alone and hurting and you had one messy knot of emotions Steve didn’t know how to unpick.
“Night, Stevie,” Eddie muttered, as his hand made its way to rest on his inner thigh. His breath smelled of alcohol.
“This okay?” He clarified. Yes, Eddie was a good guy and Steve wished he’d known that sooner.
“Yeah,” Steve admitted because it was okay, much to his surprise.
When Eddie did eventually fall asleep, he rolled over, keeping one hand on Steve’s thigh and slinging the other over Steve’s chest, somehow ending face down in the crook of Steve’s neck. He smelled of beer and smoke. It was the longest night of Steve’s life.
True to his word, Eddie remained sound asleep as Steve extracted himself from under him come morning. He paused to jot his number down on a notebook beside Eddie’s bed, surprising himself once again. He hadn’t gotten or wanted a second date with anyone in months. He wasn’t sure this was classified as a first date, but it had him wanting more of whatever it was.
Steve parked outside Robin’s place, surprised to find her waiting for him in the driveway, unharmed and applying her makeup with the help of a compact mirror as though it were any other day.
“You look like crap,” Robin noted as she slid into the passenger seat.
Steve could cry. Steve would’ve cried if it hadn’t been for years worth of emotional repression.
“You weren’t at work yesterday,” Steve said by way of explanation.
“Yeah. I went to Indianapolis for my aunt’s birthday. I told you I was going last week.”
Oh. Steve had forgotten. He nodded, then sniffed pathetically, pretty sure he was about to cry. Robin was fine. She’d never been in danger. She placed her hand over his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“Dingus, were you worried about me?” She teased, trying to lighten the mood. He shook his head, a blatant lie.
“So worried you didn’t go on one of your crappy Saturday night dates or do you have another story to tell me about how you stuck out with a smoking hot babe... again.” That brought Steve to his second crisis.
“Kind of.” Robin raised a brow.
“Kind of? Steve Harrington, since when are you coy about the people you date? Dude, when it comes to me you have no boundaries.” She was right.
“I think I went on a date with a guy,” Steve admitted, not meeting Robin’s eye as she let out an inhuman squeak.
“I was gone for one goddamn day and that’s the day you decide to date a guy?” She gasped, smacking his arm.
In retrospect, it was pretty funny. Steve’s urge to cry was suddenly stifled as his body rocked with laughter.
“I think I owe you one, actually,” Steve admitted, knowing he wasn’t going to hear the end of it.
Read Part 2 Here
#steddie#steddie Drabble#drabble#ficlet#steddie ficlet#first meeting#pre season 4#au#steve harrington#eddie munson#platonic stobin#robin buckley#bi steve harrington#fluff and angst#steve x eddie#Metalhoops writes
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bloom : one | joel miller
→ pairing: no outbreak joel miller x f!reader
→ WC: 2494
→ warnings: meet cute vibes, reader is single mom, small injury at work, Joel to the rescue using nontraditional techniques to help (I don't want to give it away), daughter is a teen and bleeds sarcasm, fluff and more fluff, mention of divorce and adoption.
→ a/n: some of you are probably like “wait, what is happening?!” i started this series on another account that i was using to take a break from this one. I had plans to finish this series out over there and then just abandon the account and move back here. but i love this series and want it to live here with my other work. so, im getting things set up so i can post part two later this week and move back to this account for good. also, this is series is a TLOU AU, so I've fudged all timelines and relationships to make it work for me. Ihope you like it, am very nervous to share it with you all.
two | series masterlist | main masterlist
You’re staring.
It would feel less awkward if it were somewhere else, anywhere but where you are right now. Like sitting a table away at a packed restaurant, enough people crowded around to lessen your obvious ogling of a handsome stranger, eyes locked on his profile as you hide behind the empty glass you’re pretending to sip from. The crossing of paths in a grocery store would also feel less awkward, a quick glance back over your shoulder after your carts squeeze through the nearly claustrophobic aisle, your gaze on him as he stares at the shelves filled with sugary snacks— he most definitely would have a wicked sweet tooth you think.
Unfortunately for you, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, it’s just you and him, alone in the store front of the floral shop— your floral shop.
He’d walked by the front window, stopping instantly to read the shop’s name in gold letters above the entrance, then hands cupped over his eyes and face pressed close to the glass contemplating the shop’s worthiness of his time.
It’s a corner spot, sitting at the crossroads of two of the town’s busiest shopping streets— prime location. Bold was a chance you took with painting the exterior black, even with the apprehension of the city council deeming it too “gothic” for the town's rather conservative appeal. The dark exterior paired with black and white striped awning over the door was the perfect balance of moody and romantic.
It was worthy enough, pushing the front door open he stepped inside, the automated bell signaling through the shop. The heaviness of his boots scuff across the wood floor a few steps, his broad body stopping in front of one of the cold displays that held an array of dramatic arrangements. His hands tucked securely into his pockets as he looks around aimlessly, it’s evident this isn’t a regular occurrence for him.
“Welcome to Wilder Floral. Is there anything I can help you with today?” You greet him from your workbench.
Your hands busily work to trim the ends and dethorn the stems of a bundle of antique mauve roses, one of your best sellers, then trimming off the lower leaves before placing them in a bucket of water.
“Not really sure at the moment. Just browsin’ for now.” His deep voice sounds through the small space, the raspy tone sending a tingle down your spine.
“Okay. Well, if you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.” He nods to you, catching the way his gaze doesn’t immediately break from you, he gives you a half smile then continues to look over everything again.
You’re staring.
Your mind is filled with thoughts of only this handsome stranger, quietly watching him over the now full bucket of cleaned roses.
You note the way his hip cocks out to the side as he stands with his large hands secure against his small waist. His eyebrows pinch together briefly, a look of deep thought painted over his face accentuating the little crinkles around his eyes. After a moment, his beautiful face relaxes into a calmer expression.
You can make out every muscle that runs the length of his arms, the weight of the arrangement he’s now holding provoking the defined musculature. His arms lifting and turning the vase with ease, examining every detail of the floral design you created.
You’re still staring. You can’t help it though. Actually, you can, but your brain convinces you that you are just admiring, so that makes it more than okay— right?
“You know, if you take a picture it lasts longer!” A hushed voice pops up from behind you.
“Ouch!! God dammit, Ellie! Why do you do that?!” You yelp, tossing the rose stem you were holding onto the table.
“It’s too easy! You were lost in la la land over some grumpy guy looking at flowers. I saw an opportunity, so I took it.” She laughs, pushing your buttons brings her a weird satisfaction.
There’s a throbbing pain coming from your hand. Looking down you see part of a thorn had broken off and was now embedded deep into the pad of your finger— a rookie mistake at this point in your career. You wrap your other hand around the base of your fingers, hoping some pressure will elevate the pain.
“I’m glad you enjoyed this. Can you just go grab the first aid kit in the back, please!”
“Yeah, yeah. Try not to fall for him too hard while I’m gone— don’t think you have enough bandages to fix that mess.” She sulks away into the back room.
“Shit!” You hiss, the pain getting more intense and now radiating through your entire finger.
“You okay ma’am?” The handsome customer asks you, stealthy in his approach to where you’re standing, still clutching your hand.
He places the floral arrangement he was holding down on your work table, his feet still moving in an urgent manner until he is standing in front of you.
“Yeah— actually, no… The thorn broke off and it’s in there real good. It hurts and I’m trying really hard to not be a baby about it. Someone’s getting a first aid kit out of the back for me.” You hold your pained finger up to him.
“Do you want me to take a look at it?” His hands slowly reach out, your lips parted and ready to speak but words fail you, only managing to nod a response.
Your mind briefly wonders what Ellie is up to, but the thought vanishes instantly once his hands wrap around your wrist and he brings your injured finger closer to his face.
“My name is Joel.” He looks over to you, heat pricks over your cheeks as he holds your gaze. It’s a cosmic thing, his touch activating warmth you’ve longed for. A corner of his mouth lifts, you can’t help but fixate on the dimple that forms resulting in a barrage of flutters erupting in your chest.
“Hi Joel.” Giving him yours in return, his smile growing louder as he repeats it back to you softly, like he couldn’t wait to say it out loud.
He refocuses back on your injury. A pinched expression, similar to the one he wore earlier, is even more adorable up close— zeroing in on the small wound that was tormenting you.
Joel’s movements are dizzying, an unbridled enthusiasm that elicits a sudden burst of desire you hadn’t experienced in ages, but he senses you trust him at your willingness to let him take control of the situation. Bringing your finger to his mouth, he wraps his pillowy lips around the tip of your finger and sucks with a gentle pressure. You watch him unabashedly, completely mesmerized by the way he jumped into action, how his cheeks draw in from the suction.
Your eyes lock when he looks up from your hand, sensing your eyes already on him, his thumbs drawing circles over your wrist, soothing over your racing pulse, as he continues to suck at the fleshy pad of your finger. It feels nearly overwhelming, the fierceness of his warm brown eyes has an inebriating feeling blooming inside you.
A gasp shoots through your throat at the feeling of his tongue slightly flicks over the part of your finger that is in his mouth, pressing the back of your other hand against your lips, embarrassed by your reaction to the erogenous sensation.
The whole thing is over as quickly as it began. Joel is pulling your finger from his lips, his grip still holding on to your wrist as he lowers your arm down to your side. You watch as the tip of his tongue breaches his lips, his pointer finger and thumb picking at the small little thorn that was once lodged into your skin, now resting on his tongue. He rubs his lips together almost nervously, the weight of the whole situation kind of sinking in.
“Got it!” He rasps, holding the annoying culprit up between his fingers.
“How did you know that would work? I usually have to dig those out with tweezers. That was— wow, thank you.”
“I get splinters regularly— I’m a carpenter. Sometimes when I’m out on the job, gotta use what you have. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, just knew it needed to come out— the last thing you want is an infected finger.” He rubs nervously at the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t over step in anyway.
“No! Not uncomfortable in the slightest!! Thank you, seriously. Rose thorns can cause a mean infection too. I appreciate it—“
“I leave for two minutes and you’ve already moved onto second base with the guy?!” Ellie announces her reemergence, holding the first aid kit in her hands and a grossed out look on her face.
“Ellie!” Your body runs cold, completely mortified, ready to crawl into the nearest hole.
“He had your finger in his mouth— probably more like rounding to third if I’m being honest.”
You grab the kit from her hands, setting it on the counter, turning to see Joel still rooted in the same spot with his hands tucked into his front pockets and a tinge of red across his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry! Sometimes I think my daughter forgets she has a filter and that she can actively choose to use it before she speaks.” You try to make sure he isn’t the one who feels uncomfortable now.
“Adopted daughter, actually.” You roll your eyes at her need for technicalities. Adopted, yes, but daughter nonetheless. “Also, in case you were wondering, cause I’m sure you are, she’s single.”
“Ellie!” You look back at her with a sternness in your voice, eyes blown wide in hopes she picks up that she can stop at any point in time. Turning back to Joel, you mouth an ‘I’m sorry’, your shoulders dropping in defeat.
There’s an awkward silence that settles over the three of you. Joel looks like he doesn’t really seem to know how to diffuse the awkwardness at hand, Ellie has a shit eating grin she wears proudly when she knows she’s embarrassed you just enough, and you simply would like to evaporate into thin air.
“So, this is the part where you give your relationship status to her— makes this whole ‘her finger in your mouth’ thing feel a little less weird for all of us.” She has a point. You had been wondering that very thing, but how were you supposed to bring it up when he’s sucking a thorn out of your finger with his gorgeous mouth.
“Single— very much single.” He laughs at how forward she is, knowing she’s just looking out for you. “I do have a daughter, probably about your age too.”
“What, your wife die or something?” Ellie asks with zero hesitation.
“No. Just an ole fashion divorce. Anythin’ else you wanna to know?” He looks to Ellie, ready for whatever comes next.
She studies Joel for a beat, “Nope, that’s all.”
You release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, grateful to what ever greater power decided to switch Ellie’s filter back on.
Ellie turns to head to the back room, where she had previously been working on her homework, but turns on her heels in the process to look back at Joel and you.
“One last thing, she needs to be wined and dined before you even think about kissing her.” Then she's gone before you can say anything else.
The awkwardness creeps back into the room, you’re not really sure how to come back from all of that. You open the first aid box, rifling through the contents for a cleaning pad and small bandage.
“She seems like a fun kid.” Joel decides to take the lead, watching you swipe the alcohol pad over your finger.
“She is— she definitely keeps me on my toes at all times. But, she’s got a big heart under all her sarcasm.” You tell him. You grab for the bandage, but Joel beats you to it, snagging it off the table and ripping it open before you get the chance.
You hold your finger out in front of you, ready for him to wrap it up properly for you, but instead of sticking gauze, your wounded finger is met with his plush lips for a few seconds.
“Obviously, a kiss to make it better.” He smiles again and you melt, biting at your lower lip as he wraps the dressing around your finger.
“Thank you, Joel.”
“Speaking of daughters— mine is the reason I came here in the first place. I was wanting to get this arrangement for her. She passed a test she’d been stressin’ about. Thought I’d get her a little something to celebrate her.” Joel points to the flowers on the cash stand that he had been holding earlier, grabbing his wallet out of his back pocket and pulling out his credit card ready to pay.
“They’re on the house today.” You tell him as you walk up to your computer, imputing the information to zero out the sale.
“No— no, I can’t let you do that. Lemme pay for them please. Least I can do for all your time and talent you put in.” Holding his card out to you, insisting he pay in full.
“You practically saved my life,” A slight exaggeration, but he laughs anyway. “How about you come here for all your flowers in the future, instead of my competitors, and we’ll call it even.”
“I can do that. I might just have a need for flowers soon then, I’m sure I can find an excuse to come back for more— you think you can handle that?”
“Yeah— I can handle that.” Handing him the vase of flowers, hoping he does find an excuse to come back and tell you how much his daughter enjoyed them.
Joel walks a few feet in the direction of the door then stops, turning back to see you’re already busily back to work with a handful of flowers. He says your name, falling from his lips like sweet honey, and you don’t think you could ever get tired of him saying it the way he does. “I’ll be seein’ you around. Try to be safe until then, m’kay?”
“See you around Joel. I’ll keep the injuries to a minimum until then.”
“I’d prefer no injuries at all, actually.”
“I’ll do my best.”
You exchange goodbyes, watching him cross the street and get settled into his truck from the store front window. You’re not sure why you miss him, having only just met, but there’s a longing that’s started to burn inside your heart.
Joel’s truck merges onto the road, he takes one last glance in your direction, his hand thrown out the window waving at you as he drives off, planning his next visit so he can see you again.
next
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#bloom series#no outbreak!joel miller#tlou au#pedrostories
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Title: A Night to Die For
Pairing: Chucky x Tiffany Valentine x Reader
Prompt: N/A
Warnings: smut, bottom reader, top Chucky, top Tiffany, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering
Word count: 696
"This feels almost too good to be true," Ash mumbled against Tiffany's neck. It had been too long since Ash had found someone to go home with. Hotel bars had once been the perfect spot to find a one night stand, but her luck seemed to have run out a long time ago. At least it had until Ash saw the two women sitting at the bar drinking together.
"Shh." Nica placed her hand over Ash's mouth as she gently tugged Ash backwards. They had barely gotten to know each other's names, and Ash was pretty sure that Nica had forgotten hers immediately. Tiffany had been a bit more conversational, which Ash had appreciated whenever they were still drinking. Now that they were entangled in Tiffany and Nica's hotel room bed, Ash liked Nica's "get to it" attitude.
Ash relaxed in Nica's arms as Tiffany spread her thighs. Chucky's eyes lit up as she looked at Tiffany down between Ash's legs. There was a flare of jealousy whenever she saw Tiffany with someone else, the same one that Tiffany got when their roles were reversed. Tiffany looked up with a smirk, silently and subtly signing Ash's death warrant.
There was never any chance that Ash was leaving that room alive. Chucky loved the thrill of Ash having no idea what was in store for her. They would have a good time together, and that was all Ash needed to worry about. Chucky doubted that Ash would have had the guts to stomach sticking around with them in any capacity. Ash looked like a gentle soul, to the point where Tiffany had been hesitant in picking her up.
"You're such a pretty little thing," Tiffany said as she leaned up on Ash's thighs. Her lips were slick with the evidence of Ash's arousal. Ash hummed in response, and Tiffany moved her hand away, only for it to be replaced with Nica's.
"She's so wet Tiff. I don't know if I've ever felt a cunt this soaked before." Ash knew from Nica's tone that she should have felt a little bit embarrassed, but she was too far gone to think about anything other than Nica's fingers inside of her.
Tiffany let her fingers replace Nica's as she bent down to take Ash's clit into her mouth. The two of them took their turns working Ash up to her orgasm. Ash didn't think that they'd stop at just one, especially not with the way that Tiffany continued to lap at Ash's cunt after she had already cum. Tiffany withdrew herself completely as she sat back on her knees with a look of pure excitement on her face.
"Are you ready for the big finale?" Tiffany asked. Ash thought that the question was directed towards her, so she opened her mouth to answer it. Words formed slowly in her brain and even slower in her mouth. Tiffany's eyes widened with glee as Chucky pulled the knife out from behind her back.
The swipe of the blade across Ash's throat was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Blood sprayed all over Tiffany and the bed as Ash started to squirm in Chucky's arms. She was a goner, but she didn't think that it'd last so long. Chucky stared down at Ash with a look completely devoid of any sort of remorse. Ash's mouth moved as she tried to ask why, but she couldn't produce any sort of sound other than the choking and gurgling on her own blood.
"You can never be too careful about going home with a stranger these days. Even with cell phones, people are just so sick sometimes," Chucky said. Ash reached up towards Chucky, only to be met with a knife to the gut. That one hurt even more than the one to the throat. Chucky twisted the knife around a little, slicing Ash's internal organs just enough to finally take care of her. Chucky shoved Ash's limp body off of the bed and onto the floor. "What do you say we get out of here?"
"After I get cleaned up. It won't take long," Tiffany said.
"Yeah, I've heard that one before," Chucky scoffed.
#minors dni#my writing#one shot#chucky x reader#chucky#tiffany valentine#tiffany valentine x reader#chucky x tiffany valentine x reader
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Lost In Reality (George Daniel)
warning: drinking, mentions of sex
note: this took me like a week to write. im so lonely wish i had a clingy lovesick george
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
r&b music is pumping through the speakers of the club. it’s dark in the vip section where you sit and a bit damp with sweat, everything is.
adam went home early tonight, you all bid your goodbyes and a parting farewell hug to him before he slipped out the door a few hours prior. it’s now nearing midnight and your fresh nail polish is chipped.
you sit alone in the private booth with ross. the two of you are tag-teaming being designated drivers tonight, figuring if you both only get mildly tipsy tonight, you can both be equally responsible enough for your two knuckleheads you’re supervising tonight.
speak of the devil, knuckle head #1 comes waltzing up to the table, looking a little lost, but when his gaze meets yours, he freezes in his spot like he’s just remembered he left his stove on, then squeezes in next to you.
“scooch over, i’m tired,” george whines, spilling onto you over the leather seat and your velvety dress.
you give hime a quick smile, feeling as though it sufficed as a brief greeting to your lover as you continue your conversation with ross. “i saw your dad at the store the other day, it was weird, he recognized me and everything.”
ross chuckles, “what was he buying?”
“i think it might have been like a few apples, maybe a-“
knucklehead #1, however, does not feel quite welcome enough, so he scoots even more into you, hand on the back of your neck, right at the roots of your hair and the other gripping your waist. “hey.”
you pause to stare at him, “hey.”
“and what else?” ross tries through stifled giggles to reanimate your dying conversation. george busies himself placing wet kisses to your neck.
“a carton of orange juice, laundry detergent,” your words are broken apart by george and his suffocating attack to your neck. when he realizes you’ve stopped talking, he uses his grip on your neck to his advantage and pulls you in for a full, smothering kiss. you humor him, not entirely enjoying the taste of tequila on his tongue but bearing it because he’s clearly needing something from you.
he pulls away, surprising that he chose to before you did, and presses his cheek into your chest for a moment, “ross, this is my woman, did you know that.”
“i did, mate.” ross glances back at you repeatedly, making fun of george without even having to say anything. george evidently does not pick up on this one bit.
“and did you know that i love her?”
“mm, it’s news to me. maybe you should let everyone else know, too.” you shoot ross a deathly glare, knowing that he knows how much you hate making a scene and you can tell he’s only joking but the knucklehead didn’t quite pick up on that.
with a cackle, he stands up, much to your horror, clinking a fork onto your glass and pulling you in close to him. you’re mildly freaking out, glad that the music in here is just loud enough that the entire establishment won’t hear this, maybe just the people near.
“everyone! listen up, im sorry. i am in love with this gorgeous woman right here! she is the love of my life! i am going to marry her!”
you swear your heart almost stops as people begin to clap. you try to pull him back down to sit and be out of the public’s eye but he resists. “kiss?” he puckers his lips already and points to them with a finger and you pout at him for only just a moment. you soon realize it’s the sole way to get him to stop, so you cave
you mean for it to be a small peck but he holds you in like he always does, the one thing that never changes about him when he gets drunk like this, pressing his lips messily to yours and holding your head too tightly that it roughs up your hair. you pull away this time, pushing him down to sit in your previous spot in the booth, trapping him in as you sit at the end.
“wow, that was beautiful, george,” ross grins wickedly and you set a mental reminder to shave his eyebrow off in his sleep when you get the chance. he’s a deep sleeper, you might just get away with it
“she deserves it. this woman right here, she single handedly saved my life. i love her. will you go to the bathroom with me?” you don’t even realize the last sentence is towards you until he nudges you with his elbow.
“to do what?” ross raises an eyebrow, wondering why he’s so involved in this conversation that has nothing to do with him.
“so i won’t be lonely.”
with an eye roll, you stand up, holding out both hands to pull your boyfriend up, “come on, big boy.” he laughs at the pet name and it’s not missed by you just how hot he is when he laughs like that, you never do.
he wraps an arm around you and you lead him outside instead of the bathroom, as fun as it sounds to take a piss hand in hand with him, you’d rather get your man home.
he stumbles outside with you, nearly taking you down with him but you steady the both of you with gentle hands on his waist. “hey. you wanna get out of here?”
his sly grin is valuable in your gaze, “any time, baby.”
“i mean, i’m going to take you home, okay?” you realize your second attempt doesn’t sound all that better.
“your place or mine?” he smirks. you decide to just let him have it if it means he’ll agree to leave.
“yours, sweets.”
he calls a cab for you, glad that he remembered how much you suck at doing so.
you snuggle up to him in the backseat while he informs the driver of the address. your rest your head on his strong shoulder and he rests his broad hand on your thigh out of instinct.
“you okay, honey?” everything about him is comforting, from his overwhelming kisses and public proclamations of love to the way that he constantly has the urge to take care of you in any way he can, even when he’s wasted. you almost feel bad about how bad his hangover is going to be tomorrow morning.
“i’m alright, handsome.” adding in the last bit just to mess with him and it works as well as you expect, his cheeks blush and a shy smile breaks upon his face.
“you really think so?” it’s not like him to ask for a bit of reassurance like this so you lean in to kiss his cheek.
“of course. i love you. so much.”
“that’s the first time you’ve said it tonight.”
you kiss his cheek again, “but do you really need me to say it for you to know?”
he smiles warmly, “no.”
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
you sent ross a text informing him that you had left and he replied something about how he had assumed so, doubting the pair of you spent a half hour in the bathroom.
you tucked george in with a loving kiss to the forehead and he was passed out asleep before you even climbed in next to him.
it’s now hours later in the late morning, and he was still asleep when you woke, so you decided to set up camp on his couch, mentally double fisting watching supernatural on the tv and reading a book.
it isn’t until 30 minutes of this quiet time alone that george comes slumping in, groggy and tired but awake. he stands in the doorway, looking around in confusion for a moment. “did we fuck last night?”
“no.”
you’re scared he’s going to continue with this, getting into some speech about how you’ll always have his consent, no matter what. it’s something you already know, something you’ve already established with him, but you don’t think you could ever bring yourself to be intimate with him when he isn’t fully present for it.
you know that he’s the same way when it goes for you, that he’d never lay a hand on you if you hadn’t explicitly agreed to it.
he doesn’t, however, and you’re even more grateful when he shuffles to the kitchen and begins to cook breakfast out of habit. you let him be, coexisting with him in the open floor plan of the room, you with your book and your show and him with the food and the stove.
after a good chunk of time, he returns to you, two plates in hand. passing one to you, “careful, love, it’s hot.”
“thank you.” he doesn’t say anything, feeling like he shouldn’t be thanked for simply cooking you breakfast, it seems like the least he can do.
he settles down next to you and your stretch your legs out over his lap, allowing him to rest a hand over your thighs.
you eat in comfortable silence for a moment until he interrupts it. “have you started your period?”
you almost choke, “pardon?”
“has your period started yet?” he doesn’t elaborate any more, likely until you give an answer.
“how did you know?”
he rubs up and down your leg. “i track it for you. cuz i know you always forget to. it also helps me plan our date nights better.”
“why? i mean, thank you, but why?”
he shrugs. “because i care about you.”
you study him over your slice of toast but decide to leave him be. if he chooses to show his love to you in unconventional ways, that’s his decision and you’ll accept his affection in any way you can get it.
once he finishes his plate, he sets it to the side on his coffee table and begins to busy himself with kneading and pawing at your legs. he focuses in on the fleshiest part, your inner thigh and you continue to study him like an creature nearing extinction.
“this is the best part, this right here.”
“of my thigh?” he nods.
“it’s good thigh. prime thigh.”
“ok.”
he sighs now, not loud and dramatic like you do, but a forced exhale. “i’ve got to go to the studio today, my love.”
“so go.”
“i don’t want to leave you. barely seen you this week. finally got you to myself and i’ve got to leave again.”
“i’ll stay here. i’ll be here when you get back and we can hang out some more.”
“is that too much to ask?”
“course not, babe.”
“thank you. i just love the idea of coming home to you. keeps me going. and i hate coming back here after a long day away and being all alone.”
you giggle and poke him with your foot, “god, you’re so obsessed with me.”
“i know, baby, im sorry,” he pushes off your legs and sets your plate to the side, not caring that you hadn’t finished yet. he crawls forward to lay between your legs and rest his head on your sternum.
“don’t be.”
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
taglist: @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @indierockgirrl @milkluvr8 @americanangel @butyou-callmewhenyourebored
#the 1975#george daniel fanfic#george daniel x reader#george daniel fluff#george daniel smut#george daniel fic#george daniel fanfiction#george daniel the 1975#george daniel#georgedaniel#george daniel 1975#the 1975 self titled#the 1975 fanfiction#1975#the 1975 fanfic#the 1975 fic
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on my nerves [kaeya, genshin impact]
enchanting, you were. always the talk of the town, the one who dazzled under the sun. no matter what you do, it was graceful. whether it be as simple as shopping in the markets, or whether it be tearing down opponents triple your size, in everything you do, you shone.
that's what made dear, captain kaeya despise you. you were always so elegant, it displeases him.
"i, myself, cannot fathom how arrogant they are." he would say to a nearby knight as you walked through the halls of the headquarters, chin up and posture straight. ignoring the overt stink eye captain kaeya would give you. you never knew why he had disliked you, for it is proper that anyone shall do what they do while looking their best. he probably does not care for how his clothes are fashioned—judging by the horrendous fur piece sat atop his shoulders, he really must not care.
the quiet—on your half atleast—arguments that happen between the both of you is considered quite humorous by the other knights. the scowls you both share and the silent competitions that occur whenever on field, your colleagues find it extremely amusing.
captain kaeya and you, both, do not feel the same, however.
you have endured every tease, every comment, every rock or stick thrown at your way, you had put up with grace, and patience. you resisted, and calmed yourself multiple times, resisting the urge to just slice the poor captain down in half. albeit all the urges, you held and kept to yourself. up until now.
you had just finished your field work and was fatigued from the lack of help, due to the uprising numbers of hilichurls and treasure hoarders that the knights have been trying to get rid of.
kaeya spotted you holding onto the walls of the hall, a smirk finding its way to his face. "lazing about? that's quite unprofessional of you." he laughed mockingly, standing infront of you with his arms crossed.
you didn't know what happened but something snapped within you, a fire igniting as it was doused with the fuel you've been storing somewhere. without missing a beat, your palm met his cheek, slapping the smug grin off his face.
"i have been working all day, fighting hoardes alone, without relief or back-up. you have no right to say that to me while you sit in the confines of your office. i will not sit back and let you disrespect me anymore, sir kaeya."
kaeya scoffed, half shocked, half pained. his hand reached to rub his jaw, mouth agape.
"who knew you had it in you?" he squinted, an amused smile evident on his lips. you almost rolled your eyes, standing upright and smoothing down your clothes.
"ive always had it in me, you just irk me." you say, turning around to walk away. heart pounding in your chest as you balled your fists beside you, leaving a bewildered kaeya behind you.
he must admit, he liked the way you treated him just now. pink tinged his cheeks as he hid a smile behind his gloved hand.
a/n: *cough* masochist kaeya *cough* anwww... its been too long (A LITERAL YEAR AND EIGHT MONTHS) since i last wrote uhm... but im back! i guess 😭 love y'all! - mori :*
#genshin headcanons#genshin imagines#genshin impact#genshin impact imagines#genshin fanfic#genshin fluff#kaeya alberich#kaeya x reader#genshin kaeya#genshin impact kaeya#genshin x reader#genshin impact headcanons
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Just a Friend (BTS Reactions || Makne Line)
"Oh baby, you got what I need."- Biz Markie.
Everyone loves a friends to lovers trope- let's see what happens when you guys finally acknowledge the elephant in the room <3
Hyung Line ||
1.) Jimin (kind of a long one, sorry not sorry <3)
"Shot, shot, shot, SHOT!" The group cheers as Jimin throws back not one, not two, but three shots of tequila in one go. His cheeks are redder than they've ever been- dude is gonna be so wasted. He's never been one to shy away from a good time and tonight seems like an exceptionally fun night. "Slow down," You whisper, gently elbowing him in his side, "You're not indestructible, you know." "'Slow down', she says!" He yells out to the crowd, feigning a bummed out expression, to which everyone boos. You roll your eyes, "Fine, drink yourself stupid. I ain't holding your hair back when you're puking your guts out later." "Right," Namjoon says sarcastically. Of course you're bluffing, but it's still annoying that they detect it. "Oh, I know what we should do," Says a girl that you vaguely remember being a close friend of Yoongi, "Let's play truth or drink!" Most everyone cheers, except for a few people here and there who complain about you all being way too old for those games.
Everyone makes a circle around the living room, some sitting on armrests, some on the floor, some on the couches. One by one, everyone takes their turn- left and right, people are spilling their guts to the group, while others take drink. Then, it's Jimin's turn. He's definitely buzzed, but surprisingly, he seems alright- though the redness is ever-present across his nose and cheeks; you'd kill to get your makeup to look that perfect. "Alright Jimin," Namjoon narrows his eyes at him, a mischievous expession spread across his face, "Is there someone to whom you have not confessed your romantic attraction to?" You look over at Jimin; his expression is unreadable, though he doesn't seem caught off guard at all. You've known Jimin for well over a decade, as you met when you were just kids, and you've always had a pretty honest friendship. You assume he tells you everything, but evidently not. "Yes," He answers simply, one brow raising ever so slightly. The group rumbles, teasing him with ooh's and questions of who it could be. "Alright, next person-" Yoongi chimes in, seemingly trying to take the attention off of Jimin, though it's to no avail as Namjoon already has his hand up, motioning for him to stop talking, "Is she in the room with us right now?" The crowd goes silent. Jimin swallows hard, you even see his adam's apple bob. "Yes," He says, eyes locked with Namjoon's. You look around at all the girls in the room, examining each one to see if maybe you can spot her somehow. "Next person!" Namjoon cheers, seemingly satisfied with having put Jimin in the hot seat. The game continues, everyone's energy never wavering, the occasional explosion of cheers and laughter with every person's turn- though you can't put out of your head the exchange between the two drunk men. It's as though...Namjoon already knew the answer before he'd even asked.
It's two AM and the party's been over for about an hour, the last person having left about fifteen minutes ago and the guys all having gone back to their rooms- leaving just you and Jimin to clean up the mess in the living room. Well, Jimin is definitely trying his best to clean, as the drinks seem to finally be hitting him harder than they were earlier. "Remind me again why we throw parties," He huffs, shoving an empty can into a trash bag. "We?" You echo. "Hey, as long as you're willing to go to the store to by the cups and chips, that makes you an accomplice." He plops down onto the couch, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Is that right?" You ask, sitting down next to him. He smiles, eyes still closed. You stare at him for a moment, studying his delicate features; he's always been quite beautiful to look at.
"Jimin," You say, gently tapping his chest. "Mm?" He asks, opening one eye to look at you. "What was that about earlier? With Namjoon?" He opens both eyes slowly, clearly deep in thought. It's not Jimin to be s quiet. He sits up slowly, positioning himself so that he's at the edge of the couch, "What about it?" His expression goes from cautious to 'confused' (though you know he knows very well what you're asking). "Why did 'Joon ask that?" "Well, I suppose...he was trying to get me to own up to some stuff." "Own up to...stuff? What stuff?" You ask. He bites his lip and then lets out a chuckle, "Are you serious, Y/N?" "What?" You tilt your head, feeling a bit like a dumbfounded puppy. "Y/n, he was asking about my feelings for you." You don't even know what to say. You're shocked. And also not. He stares back at you, his smile never fading. You can see it in him- a weight off his shoulders. "I'm pretty sure I've been in love with you since we were like 12," He laughs, "And for years I've told everyone except...you." "This is a sick joke," You hiss, incredulous to the idea that he could be telling you the truth. You've been ignoring your own feelings for years, and you thought it would never happen- how is it that now he's all of a sudden giving you a half-drunk confession? "You're drunk." He shakes his head, "I've never felt more sober in my life," He says, his smile softening, "Say it back." You're afraid to let the words escape your mouth, though you want nothing more than to echo it. "Y/n," He gets closer, reaching out to lift your chin up, "Say it back." In that moment, the fear slips away from you and in its place, warm takes over your entire body. He's never touched you like this before and it feels almost electric. "I love you too."
2.) Taehyung
He's been here at your house since five in the morning and neither one of you has taken a single break. You both move from room to room, desperately scrubbing and sweeping trying to get everything ready for when your family comes to visit. If they saw the absolute squalor that you live in on a regular basis, they'd institutionalize you for sure. School's been rough and your mental health has taken a real beating- but he's been with you through it all. No questions asked...well actually, a lot of questions asked and some answers coaxed out of you with the promise of coffee and/or food. But he's been there nonetheless. A much needed constant in your life. He didn't even hesitate to jump to your aid when you said they'd be coming. You love that about him. In fact, you love a lot of things about him. How sweet and affectionate he is- even with his male friends. He's so expressive and his eyes- they're- "They're here!" He exclaims, quickly jumping up to put the mop and bucket in the closet. You snap back into reality and scramble after him to pick up any stray cleaning items. "Did- did we get everything!?" You say, panicked and disoriented. You need some damn sleep. You can hear the foot steps coming up the stairs and finally, the door bell. "You got this," he says, bringing you in for a quick, full body hug. You don't want him to ever let go.
When your family comes to visit, you become...small. Inferior. They pick you apart and strip you to your bare bones- you can hardly stand it. You only put up with it because they're paying your college tuition, but if it weren't for that, you'd have axed them out of your life long ago. Tae keeps you grounded though, which is why you asked him to stay with you for dinner. As per usual, as soon as they walk in, they're looking around to find things to judge. The couch is old, the walls are too bare. You dressed down too much, didn't order enough food- at this point, you've grown accustomed to the seasonal evaluation. Tae just sits next you and squeezes your knee under the table to bring you back. Back to earth. Back to him. You can survive just a few more hours.
Around 3PM, it's finally over. Just as swiftly as they arrived, they were back in their car and on their way to the hotel they'd booked. Lord forbid they stay in "that hell hole you call an apartment", as your mother so lovingly puts it. You're leaned up against the fridge as Tae washes dishes next to you. "I will be so glad when I'm out of school," you groan, letting you face fall in your hands. "Just a little longer, Y/n," He says, glancing over at you, "You've come this far and you're most of the way done." "I know, I know- I'm just so sick of them always making me feel bad about myself. It's like no matter what I do, they will never be just satisfied with me. Not what I do, not what I accomplish- but just me..." You turn to stare out the window across the kitchen, though your vision is already getting blurred with fresh tears, "Why am I so unloveable?" You whisper, your voice catching in your throat.
"Hey, hey, hey-" He hushes you, shaking out his hands to get as many droplets off as possible before closing the distance between you, wrapping you up in his arms once more, though this time, you stay that way for a long while. You're able to fully breathe him in this time. You sob into his chest, relishing the embrace of the only person in this world who can make you feel this safe. Your sobs slowly calm down, and he finally lets you go. "You're not unloveable, Y/n. You're amazing. You're perfect-" He says, wiping your tears with the back of his hand, "You're everything to me. You don't need to be anything to anyone else- you're everything to me." You look up at him, your eyes connecting in a way they never have before. It's now or never. "Taehyung, I love you." "I love you too." He says, no hesitation, no long pause. "No- I- I like...LOVE love you." He nods, "I know what you're saying, Y/n," He leans forward, somehow towering over you even more than usual as he brings one arm to rest against the fridge, boxing you in ever so closely, and when he speaks again, his voice is a low hum, "I love you too."
3.) Jungkook
Get a grip. There's no way. There's no way. THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY.
About a month ago, you were sat at the kitchen table minding your own business, enjoying your daily coffee and toast; Jungkook had gone out for a run as he did every. single. morning. That day, it had been raining off and on for hours and Jungkook had decided to take his chances- of course, chance was not on his side as he'd come back soaking wet. "It's pouring out there, dude," He said breathlessly, slamming the back door behind him, his shoes squeaking against the tiles in the kitchen. "Duh," You said, barely even looking up, "You saw the weather forecast, you were practically begging for it." "Shut up," He says, only vaguely annoyed by your uncaring demeanor. He's used to it though. "Hey, don't get mad at me because you decided to make an-" Suddenly, he reaches down to grab the hem of his very wet t-shirt and swiftly lifts it up and over his head, revealing his entire torse, "-unwise decision." It was like every single muscle group was glistening and even under the shitty overhead lighting, he looked absolutely mouthwatering.
MOUTHWATERING?
You immediately averted your eyes, your face feeling very hot all of a sudden. "Could you not strip in the middle of the kitchen, you whore?" "Why, am I leading you into temptation?" He quipped, walking over to the fridge to get a water bottle. "Don't flatter yourself," You feigned coolness but you could feel yourself getting fidgety. You attributed it to the coffee but you knew exactly why you were so affected.
Again, that was about a month ago and you've been at war with yourself ever since, trying desperately to shove those thoughts to the way back of your mind...but every now and then, flashes of that day would replay in your mind. What's worse, you even started noticing little things that you hadn't before- the way his hair falls in his face and frames it so delicately, or the way his lips pout when he's thinking...the way he rests his hand on your calf when you watch a movie together, and his thumb rubs up and down ever so slightly.
You've always loved Jungkook- he's been your best friend since high school. Of course, you did have a crush on him a long time ago but you thought you were desensitized to all of it over the years, especially after having become roommates- how is it just now resurfacing!?
"Y/n," Jungkook walks over and gently tugs on your hair, trying to get your attention and also annoy you a tiny bit, "Let's go to the pool." You swat his hand away, "Right now? It's-" You check your watch, "It's closed. Been closed for over an hour." "So?" He asks, raising a brow at you, "Ever heard of hopping a fence?" "What are we, 15?" "Hey, if you're too chicken, I understand," He sighs, throwing his hands up. How is this working? "Fine." You give in rather quickly, running upstairs to go throw on a bathing suit and some shorts, frantically packing a back with two water bottles and some snacks. "What about your towel?" He asks, leaning against your bedrom door frame. You jump, not expecting him to be there, "Ever heard of knocking?" You ask. "Hey, tu casa es mi casa," He says cooly, "Ready?" "Ready."
You make the short walk to the community pool, the street lights guiding you all the way to the metal gates. "Ready?" He asks, a mischievous grin on his face. You roll your eyes, "You're a child." "What does that make you? My sitter?" You roll your eyes, "Just go." He reaches up to grab hold of the bars and then climbs over, barely breaking any sweat all. "How'd I do?" He asks smugly. "Solid 6/10," You say dryly, "Just open the door." He tries the door but it won't budge. "It won't open-" He says, furrowing his brows, "You're gonna have to climb." "Ugh, I knew it was gonna be some bullshit," You huff, "How do you always rope me into your schemes." "Oh shut up, grandma." He motions for you to toss the bag over, which you do. "Alright, come on." You sigh and do just as he did, grabbing hold of the bars and pulling yourself up- though you're nowhere near as agile as him and almost lose your grip and this fence is a cool 8 feet tall. You end up just kind of sitting on the top of the fence, both legs dangling forward, "Jungkook!" You cry out, afraid you'll fall. "I've got you-" He reaches out, "Let yourself go." "Jungkook, are you sure?" "Yeah, just let go" He reassures, reaching up to squeeze your thigh softly, "I'm right here." You nod, carefully sliding forward a bit. It surprises you how easily he's able to grab hold of your hips by wrapping both arms around them to lower your down the rest of the way himself.
When you're finally on your feet again, you expect him to let you go right away, but instead, his hands linger on your waist. "'Kook?" You say softly, looking up at him. "Yeah?" He asks, looking down at you, lids low. You wonder if he can hear you heart pounding. "What are you doing?" "Nothing," He leans forward, "or Something." Your eyes close slowly, the moment you've been waiting for is finally here. He pulls you closer, both arms wrapping all the way around you waist, one of his hands clutching desperately at you back, like he just can't get close enough to you no matter how hard he tries. His mouth finally meets yours, a gentle pressure like you've never felt before, his lips parting slightly to give you entrance while simultaneously asking your for permission. How is this the first time you're doing this?
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Words Left Unsaid
A continuation of my KehXReader fic "Is This Jealousy I'm Feeling?" Enjoy!
“Ovenist….you’re attracted to me in some way, aren’t you?”
Ovenist….Ovenist….
“Ovenist, you okay?”
You look up and Nasir, the special agent helping you with the case, is looking at you oddly. You nod. “Yeah, I just got lost in thought for a minute….”
You had called him to talk about the new evidence you’d found at Keh’s shop. He had come as soon as he could, since it’s busy at the WPA and it’s like he’s the only one there most of the time. It’s been a week since you investigated Keh, and you’ve reviewed all your notes. Now you two are reviewing the stack of papers you found.
“I think it’s some sort of….manifesto or something.”
Nasir studies it for a few minutes, looking at the pages. He nods with certainty and gives a determined smile. “So this appears to be a mockup for a pizza chain Keh is starting.”
You look at him confused. “A mockup?”
Nasir smiles. “Yes, it seems that he’s planning to expand his pre-existing pizza parlor into a chain…but it’s not called ‘Ambrosia’ now, it’s called….” He looks at the top of the paper. “Keh-lifornia Pizza Kitchen. Hmm, sounds familiar….”
You nod. “Yeah, I suppose. I wonder if that’s why he might’ve stolen the dough. Maybe he’s using the notoriety from getting the dough to start his chain?”
Nasir smiles. “Intriguing perspective, and it could be true, given his past….but I would talk to him and see what he has to say about it, since it could be motivation. Let’s keep our focus on the other suspects as well.”
You nod. “Okay.”
“Do you have anything else to show me or tell me?”
You shake your head ‘no’.
“Cool, call me if you want to talk about a suspect or show me a piece of evidence.” With that, Nasir leaves, and you get lost in thought. Not just about the case, but Keh’s words still linger in your head.
How am I supposed to continue investigating Keh if he’s caught on to the fact that I kinda like him? Ever since PizzaPalooza ended, I’ve had these butterflies in my stomach I can’t control, and I SWORE I wouldn’t say anything! Ugh, why did I have to let him know how I felt about Angelica deep down? And how he shouldn’t be with her? What do I-
“Hello? Can I get an All-Dressed Pizza? Can I also get it well done?”
You snap out of your thoughts once again to take your customer’s order and move on with your day as usual.
At close, you print the daily sales receipt from your tablet. It was considerably low; you had only completed one ZaZoom order and had to do 2 refunds.
You document the day’s sales on the Pizza City Portal, where every ovenist had to input sales to show whether they are making enough to stay in business or not. You start to think about some aspects of the case you hadn’t thought of before and you grab your notebook and your special pen. Your notebook sits by you but your pen is not in its usual spot.
What the-where's my special pen??
You move everything around in your reach by your shop counter-receipt paper boxes, your store’s lost and found box (which hasn’t been emptied since you opened and is filled to the brim), and some of your personal belongings...but your pen is nowhere to be found.
Soon enough, you have searched your entire restaurant, from the kitchen to the one-person bathroom, and you have no luck. Your heart sinks as you pack up your things, lock the store and walk to your car. As you open your car door, you hear footsteps behind you, and prepare for the worst...
....but instead of a robber’s voice, it’s a gentle, familiar voice..
“Ovenist?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Ovenist?”
You close your car door in shock and the first thing you see is a shadow..albeit a very tall shadow. Next you look at who the shadow belongs to.....
“Dr. Keh? What are you doing here?”
He reaches into his lab coat pocket and takes something out to show you....
Your eyes widen. “Wait, is that-? My pen!”
You mentally cheer, studying the golden fountain pen with a certain name engraved in it. You reach out to grab it, but pull your hand back....
“Hmm...”
Keh looks at you confused. “What’s the matter? You don’t want your pen? You only tore 3 quarters of your miniscule shop down looking for it...”
You do a double-take. “Wait what?”
“Incase you weren’t aware,” Keh starts. “Every business in this city, yours included, is not only under 24/7 constant surveillance, but it is also public record and uploaded to the WPA website nightly.”
You stand there, stunned. “Wow....that’s crazy...”
Keh snorts. “Yes, I’m not really rather fond of being constantly under scrutiny, but that’s the cost of having a business in this city, and...it does have benefits..”
“Yeah...” You absentmindedly say. “Wait, you see benefits of this?”
Keh smiles. “Yes, it was rather fun watching you destroy a good portion of your store only to spend your time to put it back the way it was again. It was better than watching TV, dare I say.”
You cross your arms and frown. “Real funny. That pen was very special to me, okay? The fact that I lost it and the thought that some member of the Deep Dish Gang had stolen it from me really messed with me.”
Keh was still holding the pen and nodded. “I wasn’t laughing at the fact that you lost something valuable and meaningful to you, Ovenist. I was merely laughing at you destroying your store for any reason whatsoever. I cherish my belongings as much as anyone.”
You nod solemnly, taking the pen from his hands. For a moment, your fingers touch his fingertips, which have a strong but silky-soft texture. It felt like a smooth lotion had just been applied to them. You think you saw Keh slightly blush at the contact, which you would’ve never seen if not for the bright street light by your car. “Well thank you for keeping it safe for me. I really appreciate it.”
While he tried to hide his blushing cheeks, he coughed. “Well uh...you’re quite welcome.”
“Do I owe you anything in return?”
Keh raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
You slightly smile. “Well it’s just....whenever you do or want to do something nice for me, you expect something in return, like with the artichokes. So I was just asking....”
Keh looks at you for a minute, then nods. “I see. Well, you dropped it when you quickly left my shop so I knew it was yours. I studied it and knew it was very special to you.”
You look up at him in confusion. “But....why didn’t you come by if you knew it was mine? You waited until now to come....”
Keh put both of his hands in his pant pockets and looked down a bit, then looked at you in the eyes again. “Well, we’re not exactly on good terms, Ovenist, given our history overall. I feared you would think I stole it if I brought it to you. I was originally going to have someone send it to you anonymously....”
“Anonymously? Well why didn’t you go through with it?”
Keh put his hands on hips and studied you. “Because for once, I wanted you to think of me as...well...”
You look him in his eyes. “What?”
“I wanted you to think I was a good guy, okay? I wanted you to...well, think at least somewhat highly of me...”
You blush a bit. “But....why me? Why not the other Ovenists?”
Keh rolls his eyes. “I could care less what Cicero thinks, I REALLY don’t care what Alicante thinks....but you, Ovenist....I don’t know. For some reason, you’re different.”
You start to fiddle your special pen in your fingers and shyly look up at him. “I’m....different?”
“I can’t explain it, but....yes.” Keh says. “For once in my life, I’ve found a puzzle I was never able to solve, and that’s you, Ovenist.”
Now is your turn to snort. “You could’ve fooled me! You’re always so mean to me....”
Keh swallows and nods. “Yes, and....I deeply regret it. I’m sorry. I’ve been trained since I was a youth to be incredibly competitive and ruthless, and.....because of that, I-”
You both hear a group of tourists approaching, walking down the street.
You widen your eyes. “I think we better go our separate ways for now. I’m sure you don’t want anyone spreading rumors, right?”
Keh nods. “Yes, I agree. Though I think the Pizzagram hashtags are already trending....”
You both get in your cars and drive away before the tourists see you both together....
#good pizza great pizza#dr keh#dr. michael keh#dr keh x reader#gpgpfanfiction#what you have together has to be hidden#he's incredibly vulnerable here#he starts to show his kinder side#you're still shorter than him in this lol#gpgp#teewritessmth
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Bye, angel
✧ pairing - Taehyun x reader
✧ genre - angst, hurt/comfort, fluff
✧ warning - talking about the death of a dog and a mild argument, and i think that’s it if there’s anything else let me know please!
✧ summary - in the middle of the day you get a call which you think could be one of the worst calls you’ve got in your whole life… you receive the worst news and it gets you really upset but you don’t want to let taehyun know about this… he’ll just think you’re stupid, right?
✧ a/n - this is very self indulgent since i recently had a situation like that.. only i didn’t have a taehyun to help me through but anyways, i’m sorry if i misspelled anything, whatever thoughts u guys want to share with me please do, and now enjoy!
that was one of the worst calls you could ever receive. if not the worst one.
your mom has just called you to give you one of the worst news ever… it was your dog, your dog that had spent his whole life with you was now gone.
you were in utter shock. it was just a week ago that she had called you to tell you that your dog was at the vet and now he’s gone?
this just all seemed like a cruel joke, it didn’t feel right to think that your small ball of fur which you had spent your entire childhood with was now completely gone
you wondered if calling taehyun to come home and be with you would be a good idea… but it wasn’t, was it? wouldn’t taehyun just think you’re being dramatic? it’s just a dog isn’t? wouldn’t he be embarrassed of you bothering him at work just cause you were sad over a dog?
your head kept running around these thoughts. and now you were left there all alone holding back tears, cause even tho you were home alone. if you cried, your eyes would get puffy and taehyun would notice right away.
taehyun was out for practice and wasn’t coming back home until very late, and you were glad he wasn’t here he didn’t have to know this happened and everything would be normal, right?…
you decided to keep your mind busy by watching tv, although you knew your mind was never gonna focus on the show you put.
hours later taehyun arrived home, tired but giddy cause he’s finally seeing you after a long day of practice
"hey love! i brought some takeout” he said when he spotted your figure in the couch
"mhm” was all you answered. still lost in your own thoughts, just looking up at him once you saw him approach the sofa
"are you okay y/n? you look kind of lost” he asked while sitting down next you on the couch
"i’m great. why would i not be?” you said, regretting it a second later cause come on. what was that type of answer. ugh.
he chuckled and just pulled you up from the couch "okay then, let’s go eat before it gets cold”
you followed along sitting down in front of him.
"so um… how was your day?" you asked him.
"well it was quite stressful im not gonna lie, today we had to run over the same choreography for so long i feel like the song is still on playing in my mind right now” he chuckled and looked up at you smiling.
you smiled back at him but your eyes didn’t match your smile. your eyes looked empty and sad.
taehyun knew something was up but you didn’t want to tell him so he had to find out someway
"and how was your day, honey?” he asked before taking a bite out of his food.
"it was okay. i just did some laundry and went out to the convenience store to buy a drink" you said while poking at your food plate.
"oh! and how’s your doggie doing?” he asked looking at you expectantly
suddenly you stopped poking your food and just stared at the plate without saying a single thing. you kept your head low cause you did not want to risk looking at taehyun and immediately breaking down.
him on the other hand. he watched you intently waiting for an answer but growing more worried by the minute because you seemed to be frozen.
"love? is everything okay?” concern was evident in his voice but you refused to look at him, but you just couldn’t react and give him reassurance that everything was fine, cuz for you it really wasn’t.
"y/n! hello?” he got up from his chair and walked around the table to sit down at the chair beside yours.
he moved the plate away from you and he took the fork out of your hand so he could grab your shoulders to face him.
you felt how he moved you but you still decided not to look at him, you were not going to break down so easily. let him think you’re stupid and childish for crying over a dog? you refused to let that happen.
"love, i need you to tell me what’s wrong so i can help you” damn it! he made it so hard for you not to comply, his sweet talk got you weak to the point you almost fell… but you didn’t.
instead what you said really shocked him.
"it’s none of your business.. why do you care?”…
as those words left your mouth you felt instant regret for hurting him. he only wanted to help you but this was the only way to avoid the situation. you pulled your hands away from him and stood up to leave the table, but taehyun stopped you by grabbing your hand and standing up in front of you.
"what has gotten into you y/n? when have i not cared for you??” he was getting a bit irritated and you noticed it in his tone.
"nothing has gotten in me, why can’t i be serious for once? do you think life is all rainbows and unicorns? WELL ITS NOT!” you yell out.
you once again pulled your hand away from his and started to make your way to your shared bedroom. leaving taehyun utterly shocked at your behavior but he was definitely not gonna go after you until he heard a loud thud from your direction.
you were so mentally and physically tired from hiding your pain and your tears that as soon as your foot touched the first step of the stairs, your whole body gave up on you and you fell to the floor finally letting out that painful sob you had been holding in for what felt like an eternity.
taehyun didn’t hesitate to run to you and help you up, but your body was too weak so instead he positioned himself at the floor of the staircase and put you on his lap hugging you so tight that you felt like you could finally let it out.
minutes and minutes passed by and u couldn’t calm down, taehyun didn’t hurry you to say a single thing… he was just there telling you "it’s okay, love, let it out don’t hold back with me, i’ll be right here” which just made you more sad and mad at yourself for trying to shut him out when he’s so sweet to you.
after what felt like hours, you finally felt calm enough to tell him the truth. you looked up at him and he swore he could feel his heart break at your tired and sad eyes looking all red and puffy from crying so hard, he hated seeing you sad but this time it was different… he had never seen you in such a state that he felt totally broken but he was always gonna be strong for you if that’s what you needed.
"taehyun… my dog, my angel, my baby… she’s… she’s gone. forever.” you said trying to hold your sobs in, of course failing miserably.
he heard that and immediately hugged you tight as ever and said "oh my god… i am so sorry baby, i know how much you loved her… i truly can’t imagine the pain you must feel right now, angel. i really wish i could take it away from you”.
you separated from him for a minute to look at him to keep talking, he never let you go tho, still holding you in his arms but always ready to listen to you.
"i’m so sorry for the way i acted towards you right now-“ you saw him open his mouth to protest but you quickly told him "stop, im not finished” he closed his mouth almost immediately which made you chuckle.
"i acted that way cause… i don’t know why i felt like you would find me to be a bit childish for crying over a dogs death like if it was a person, i know you said you’d never judge me… but i felt a lot of things today after getting the news, so i really am sorry, tyun. you didn’t deserve that” you finished looking up at his eyes after trying to avoid eye contact for a while but his eyes never left yours… he was looking at you so fondly that you could honestly melt.
"sweetheart, don’t apologize! i can totally understand that when you’re upset you sometimes don’t even know what to do with all of these feelings you get and sometimes they get the best of you. but believe me. id never ever think you’re stupid for crying over a dog… especially a dog that meant so much to you and that was your partner in crime for almost your whole life” he chuckled lightly and so did you but still feeling a couple of stray tears run down your face. taehyun brought his hands up to your face and wiped underneath your eyes to take away every tear he could before continuing.
"i think you’re such a strong person for putting up with such rough paths life gives you, i am really really proud of you, love” he hugged you once again and whispered a quiet 'i love you' against your ear and you said it back before giving him a sweet little peck on the lips. "alright how about we finish eating our dinner while watching a movie, do you like the idea?” he said, now standing up and helping you stand up.
"i actually love that idea, mr. kang” you tell him teasingly. "well miss l/n, why don’t you pick a movie while i go reheat our food since i’m pretty sure it’s cold by now”.
"that sound great" you tell him before going to the couch to pick a movie to watch together.
both of you ate dinner together while laughing at a stupid comedy movie you found there, feeling so much better after everything that happened, and feeling like you’ve learned a lesson that after that you’d never hide such things from him, cause he’ll always be there for you.
#kang taehyun#taehyun fluff#taehyun x reader#taehyun angst#txt#txt comfort#txt angst#txt fluff#txt x reader#txt scenarios
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<33333333333333
Prompt: 17) softer muse makes the first move for sex and rides or tops the gruffer one who looks at them like they just found god + Jake Lockley combined with 17) softer muse makes the first move for sex and rides or tops the gruffer one who looks at them like they just found god + Moon Bois
Rating/Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI, switch!Reader, dom!Reader, sub!Reader, dom!Steven Grant, sub!Marc Spector/Jake Lockley, fingering, oral (f receiving), brief spanking, bondage, doggystyle, riding
Watch out for the quiet ones, they said.
You were so sweet and so quiet that it came as entirely unexpected that you were a hard dom.
It was Jake who found out first. He’d been teasing you all day, and you finally just snapped. Telling him to keep his hands at his sides as you undid his pants and rode him to oblivion, edging him to a point where you actually had him begging for you to let him cum.
Finally, finally, you’d let him— and Jake realized that letting you dom him was his most favorite thing ever, second only to railing you into next week.
Marc found out next.
Marc had just been sitting there, watching the game, when you came flouncing up to him in your pretty nightgown and started to casually unbutton his jeans. You took what you wanted from him when and where you wanted it, a fact that he found turned him on more than he expected.
He let you hold his arms to your chest as you rode him like your life depended on it, making him see stars. Afterward, he was whispering thank yous into your ear, letting you hold him and cuddle him right there on the couch without even cleaning up.
You, however, were in for a surprise.
“Now, love, teasin’ isn’t very nice, is it?” Steven cooed at you after you’d spent five minutes grinding on him only to suddenly need to go elsewhere for a mundane task that could truly wait. He’d grabbed your wrist.
You smirked. “And what are you gonna do about it, honey? You gonna beg for me?”
Evidently, that wasn’t going to fly at all. He slowly took his glasses off and set them on the table before dragging you by your wrist to the bed, where he threw you down and put that old ankle restraint of his to good use. “Love; being a brat will get you nowhere.” He said it while hovering over you and flicking off his jacket, and then he maneuvered you so that you were on all fours. Excited by this change of pace, you were already soaked, which made Steven chuckle as he pressed his fingers to the wet spot of your panties. “This wet for me already, darling?” You whined and tried to get more of him, inching backward, which only resulted in a harsh smack to your ass. “I don’t think you deserve to be fucked yet, love. I think I’m gonna make you beg for it, how’s that sound?” While his voice was deeper than usual, huskier, softer, he spoke casually, as if listing off things to get from the grocery store.
And he did.
He spent hours (at least, it felt like it) devouring you, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you with just his tongue and fingers, until you were a needy, pathetic mess for him, begging and pleading for him to take you. Only then did he finally give in and brutally fuck you until you were sure you’d never be able to walk again, praising you and whispering filth you’d never even dream of in your ear until you came so hard that you blacked out.
In the aftermath, as he wiped you clean, he pecked your lips softly. “You alright, love? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” It made you smile.
Watch out for the quiet ones, indeed.
Give me a prompt and a character!
#moon knight#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#steven grant x reader smut#marc spector x reader smut#jake lockley x reader smut#oscar isaac#oscar isaac hernandez estrada
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Open( say it like that)
previous, next
Earth42! Miles x Fem!reader
Blk coded
(This is literally like.. my first time writing smth like this but I was inspired by the song Open by sza and happened to have been thinking abt Earth 42!Miles so i hope this is to your liking.. IF YOU GUYS HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS OR ANYTHING IM BEGGING PLS PLS. HELP!! it will be appreciated👆)
Open your heart up
Swinging from building to building, you were exhausted. The whole afternoon was filled with fighting villains and taking care of robberies. So much for the weekend. You thought, being spiderman came with its sacrifices. Even if it's as small as giving up your weekends.
You groan as you remember your small scrabble with the Prowler at the start of your evening. It wasn't anything catastrophic, just a small fight while you were making your way to the corner store. You thought swinging there wouldn't be any harm and that it would be a great way to start your evening. But many punches later you grew to regret your decision of even making an appearance outside.
As you approach your apartment complex, you decide that a few seconds of peace wouldn't hurt. Landing on the rough, flat roof you take a seat at the edge. Your feet dangling in the air as a breeze pushes by. The sound of the city crowding your senses, you could smell the food from the food trucks just below you, creating a serenity in your mind.
But your peace was soon interrupted. The presence of someone approaching you intruded your serenity that was once in your imagination. This feeling wasn't a good one, you felt intimidated. Like you did earlier at the beginning of the evening. You turned around with quickness and shot out a web at the intruder. Worry filling your mind as you realize that you were face to face with the one and only Prowler. Who put his hands up in surrenderance.
“Relax Loca, I'm just as tired as you are.” he says, almost condescendingly. It made you sick to think that he had seen superiority over you. You stood up and gripped your web, pulling him towards you with great force.
“What do you want?” Roughness evident in your tone, you are weren't in the mood to be fucked with. As you pulled on the web, his body came closer. In an attempt to intimidate him you stood straighter and walked with purpose with the short distance created between you and the vigilante. This didn't work as well as you thought it did, hearing a muffled chuckle come from the mask he adorned.
“I can't sit wit’ you?” He was obviously finding amusement in your timid presence. It made you angrier. He tilted his head in fake confusion, waiting for your response. You pulled him closer, so close that your bodies pressed together.
“Look whatever you're trying to do” you paused looking up at the masked fellow ”it ain' working.”
“Who said I was tryna to do anything?” He leaned down closer to your face, he was enjoying this too much. But you’d be lying if you said you weren't finding this entertaining as well. “Plus you're in my spot” He was obviously referring to where you sat on the roof, the same roof over your head that lets you sleep at night.
“Yet I've never seen you here.” you say crossing your arms.
“Same goes for you princesa,” he pauses and looks away from your figure, glancing at the city under the night sky “ I come up here to clear my head..”
Damn. You knew exactly what he meant, i mean thats what you came up here for after all. Its good to feel a certain connection with the place around you. You feel somewhat grounded that way. So you decided to let him get his way.
You back away from him, detaching your web from his chest and walking back to your spot on the roof. He grows confused, why weren't you attacking him? He was expecting a lot more, and not to be let go so easily.
“You better not try nothin' I swear.” You say, your guard was up but you were willing to give him a bit of your trust. He was tired, you were tired. It only made sense, or at least that's what you told yourself. He slowly made his way next to you, sitting close. Gloved hands placed next to yours and at that moment you knew you guys were at peace. Even if it's just for this one moment, it felt nice.
((AHHH this is actually so ass.... PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU GUYS WHOEVER SEES THIS. HELP.ME.
I do hope that this was enjoyable to read as it was somewhat enjoyable for me to write.. even tho it feels lowkey rushed nd shi))
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Shadow's Bane, Chapter 11
Chapter 10
Beneath fading camouflage paint and an itchy ghillie suit, Agent 87 lowered her binoculars and ducked back into the underbrush at the edge of the McDuck property. Her encampment was hidden beneath a haven of white fir trees, consisting of a tent covered in foliage and her survival pack, where food, water, weapons, and equipment were stored.
Her setup was simple, precise, professional, with one exception: a little plush doll in a pink dress, the fabric faded and bearing numerous battle scars, evidence of a child’s clumsy needlework and the later improvements of an agent’s sturdy hand. The doll was a secret and weakness in one, dangerous evidence of sentimentality, but 87 couldn’t leave her back at base either.
She stowed her binoculars before sitting down, stretching out muscles that had gone stiff and achy after the forced stillness of an additional hour-long monitoring session. She’d had a close call when her target finally arrived, a split second where she could’ve sworn Agent 22 spotted the shine of her binocular lenses all the way from the front door when an errant breeze shifted the tree branches she was crouched behind.
87’s ineptitude could’ve easily blown her cover and ruined the entire operation. A thirteen year investment gone utterly to waste. She could already imagine the Doctor’s fury, the accusations ringing in her ears.
Pathetic
Foolish girl
Waste of a test tube
Pain had little effect on Agent 87, but the Doctor knew that well enough. Her punishment would be metal talons wrapped around the back of her neck, forcing her to curl and contort her body into the trunk that followed them everywhere, every base the Doctor brought her to, as crucial as the rest of her lab equipment. The lid would seal and leave 87 in a darkness so complete she couldn’t see her own hands, couldn’t hear anything other than the rush of blood through her head, the rapid rasp of every hitching breath. Time vanished inside the trunk; the black abyss stretched and pressed in around her and she never knew if she was left alone for minutes or hours, if the Doctor would even remember to free her before she lost consciousness.
87 shook her head violently, waved her hands out in front of her, just to remind herself she could. The trunk was far away from her now. She hadn’t compromised her mission. She hadn’t.
The hood of her ghillie suit fell away, revealing her face in full, her white feathers stained by patches of fading camouflage paint. Her cheeks were rounded with youth, the short hair escaping her bun falling around her face in disarray.
She pulled the laptop out of her pack, queuing up the various security camera feeds she had set up around the mansion’s perimeter under the cover of darkness on the first night of her stakeout. These feeds weren’t an adequate substitute for full observation techniques, but they would suffice for brief stretches. Long enough for her to stretch, hydrate, and get something in her stomach.
87 could also use this as the perfect opportunity to update her field log.
Pepper (Egghead Level 6) had been the one to give her the idea, though likely entirely by accident.
“You’re gonna be on stakeout for how long?” she’d demanded in that peppy, shrill way of hers. “Oh, I know mum’s the word for these super spy camping trips, but if you don’t talk to yourself or something, sweetie, you’re gonna go loopy!”
87 was immediately partial to the idea of keeping a log for herself, to monitor and track her progress as she advanced through the organization. This was her first solo mission, utterly official, no more training wheels, no backup. If she could record her thoughts and experiences as this operation progressed, she could go back and study them later, analyzing what she might have missed, where she might improve before her next mission.
It took a bit of doing to hunt down a recording device that wasn’t already bugged; anything that could be used to contain incriminating information was understandably hard to come by in their line of work.
Once fed and watered, 87 hit record on her device. She cleared her throat, speaking aloud for the first time that day.
“This recording, and all eleven before it, are classified Level 5. If you are ranked below Level 5, stop listening now or risk termination, per Policy 8, subsection b.03 in your FOWL orientation manual,” she listed unenthusiastically, in the stilted tone that was intended for the legal record, should any agent above her discover her logs and demand she turn them in.
“Operation: Hen House. Field log 12. August 10, 2017. Approximately 1100 hours Pacific Standard Time.” 87 let out a great, dramatic huff just as she hopped back to her feet and began another round of stretches.
“Whew! Now that all the boring stuff is out of the way…The weather’s clear today, with only a few clouds on the horizon. It shouldn’t rain tonight, which means I’ll be able to sleep in my tent again and not up in a tree. I don’t mind the tree, really! She’s a very sturdy fir. But my tent is much more comfortable, when I won’t drown in mud by sleeping in it.”
87’s breathless stream of consciousness ended when she knelt back at her laptop, pulling up footage from approximately an hour ago alongside the current live feeds. She queued up a few seconds to loop on repeat—specifically, that of her person of interest’s eagerly anticipated arrival, after twelve days of preparation.
“Anyway,” she said, with a touch more composure. “My target, Lena Downey McDuck, adopted daughter of Scrooge McDuck, landed at Duckburg International Airport at approximately 0710 today. She entered McDuck Manor at precisely 0805, and currently only she and Agent 22 are in residence.”
After a brief glance at the live feeds, 87 focused on the loop of Lena McDuck on the manor’s front steps. The camera wasn’t in a good spot to capture the look on her face, but her shoulders were slumped and she did nothing to brush her long bangs out of her eyes. Then the door opened, and Agent 22 bent down to give her a hug, her severe expression cracking with a smile.
Over the last twelve days, 87 had observed Agent 22 at every opportunity. To the untrained eye, the former director of SHUSH accomplished very little in her decade-old role as housekeeper; she merely did chores, all the million little things it took to run a household the size of McDuck’s. But 87 was trained to recognize threats hiding in plain sight, and she had never recognized a greater wolf in sheep’s clothing than Agent 22.
Perimeter checks were disguised as nightly strolls or a need to water the garden. Every duster, vacuum, or soup ladle was wielded with deadly grace, as though they might be repurposed as weapons without a moment’s notice.
87 didn’t even dare come within 100 meters of the mansion, petrified as she was at the thought of Agent 22 snapping her up and bolting her to an interrogation table. 87 wouldn’t break, and she knew it would be a long and painful process before Agent 22 understood that as well. So, to mitigate that risk, she moved her encampment somewhere new every night she could afford to.
Agent 22 was surely everything the Doctor described and more, and 87 knew she should be afraid of her. And she was! But…she thought that Agent 22 had a very kind face, too.
When she opened the door to Lena McDuck, her severe British countenance warmed in a way that almost fanciful, like something out of the films 87 had been allowed to view while researching for her role, full of fake happy families and fake happy endings, make-believe characters playacting in candy colored worlds where magic and chaos weren’t threats to be feared. Where little girls had parents and friends who fought and sacrificed for each other and loved each other. A world 87 had no context for. A world she hadn’t believed existed before that smile.
Anyway.
The footage repeated from there.
“Today was my first time seeing the target in person. I’ve read her file cover to cover at least fifteen times, but I’m still not sure what to think.” Feeling unaccountably antsy, 87 stood back up and began familiar tai chi movements—Yang Style, as the stomping and kicks of Chen Style would defeat the purpose of a clandestine observation.
She continued rambling, relishing in the freedom. The Doctor wasn’t here now to demand her silence.
“We know from readings taken eleven years ago that Lena McDuck was created from shadow magic, the same as the one we have on record belonging to the sorceress Magica De Spell. De Spell is classified as an Omega Level Threat, and is currently trapped in a pocket dimension inside Scrooge McDuck’s Number One Dime. An extension of Operation: Hen House is to secure the dime for FOWL.
“But today when I scanned Lena McDuck, she had almost no magical signature to speak of, which should be impossible for a creature made of the stuff! I guess it’s possible that she has perfect control of her magic, and uses this control to hide her magic signature just like the witch Morgana Macawber. A more likely explanation is that she hasn’t used her magic at all in the last thirteen years, and it's gone dormant. I recommend consulting the Phantom Blot once he’s been given clearance for the target’s true origins.”
87 stopped to consider the looping footage again, scrutinizing her target’s body language the same way she would an armed assailant.
She knew everything about Lena McDuck the target, but had so little information on Lena McDuck the person. Her social media presence was negligible, and she associated with no known parties. A few Eggheads had even been placed to monitor her schools, and still she did little of note other than get expelled from said schools, all without the media frenzy most rich heiresses would generate. She was unlike any of the wealthy elites 87 had studied in preparation of her undercover work, and even less like a young Scrooge McDuck, whose own ambition had seemed limitless.
“Lena may be rebellious, and a trouble-maker, but I’ve noticed that more than once, according to her school reports, her acts of rebellion are usually to help someone else. She seems to have more of an altruistic side than McDuck ever did. Maybe the lack of adventure warping her perception of reality is the answer?” 87 wondered aloud. The Director did always say that McDuck was deluding himself, playing God. “Either way, it might be useful to know for when I make contact.”
Make contact. Her real assignment, not this child’s idea of spycraft, hiding in the bushes with binoculars and calling it a day. Or twelve.
87 closed her eyes and took a breath, as the warrior monks of Tra La la taught her, allowing her surroundings to wash over her. Larks tittered overhead and a breeze sent the leaves in the treetops shivering against each other in gentle susurration. Killmotor Hill was worlds away from the rest of Duckburg, but even on high one couldn’t escape the distant honk of cars in traffic or the bleating of boat horns in the marina even further away.
This was the world she would help protect. The real world. And she was but a cog in the complex machinations of FOWL, making that happen.
“This is Agent 87. End of log 12,” she said, before opening her eyes again and taking in her modest campsite. It might've been meager, but the solitude was a welcome relief.
She stopped the recording, and stowed the device in her pack.
Returning to her laptop, 87 pulled the live feeds up in full, prepared for another long day and a longer night of continued surveillance.
Agent 22 was the territorial sort, and unlikely to leave the mansion for at least twenty-four hours now that her charge was in residence. McDuck kept long hours, leaving in the early morning and returning in the late night, but his activities were closely monitored by the Director and were of little relevance to her assignment.
As a matter of principle, she still listened in on all the calls coming in and out of the mansion (she tapped the phone lines on day 3), but both McDuck and Agent 22 spoke little and made fewer calls. The driver was a lot more fun, with his earnest friendliness hiding no great secrets, and his boxer’s strength making 87 itch for a real spar and not just the same boring solo drills. She almost would’ve preferred to follow him around, but he was marked ‘inconsequential’ on the mission report.
Anyway, she only had a few more days of surveillance to complete. After that, the next phase of her assignment would begin. A house was already being secured for her in town, and once she moved in they would craft her backstory and prepare for the start of the school year. There, 87 would meet and befriend Lena, infiltrate the McDuck family, and ensure they didn’t meddle with the Director’s vision for a better, safer world.
But then, even the most foolproof plan wasn’t McDuck-proof. 87 had been taught this, but she would learn it the hard way.
Something triggered one of her motion-detectors on the western side of the mansion, where most of the occupied bedrooms were located. Cursing her distraction, 87 cycled through all her security feeds. Had someone slipped past her? One of McDuck’s many, many enemies? Since he stopped adventuring there’d been little activity from anyone other than Flintheart Glomgold or the Beagle Boys, petty and shortsighted criminals who Agent 22 took down easily. It would make 87 the biggest failure of them all if she missed their infiltration, and if her distraction cost them this operation…
Finally, she found the feed that her alarms were crowing over, but she didn’t understand what she was looking at. Not at first.
Lena McDuck was climbing out of her bedroom window and into the topmost branches of the tall tree just within reaching distance. She had the same duffel bag she arrived with slung over her shoulder. The camera followed her progress until she jumped down from the last branch and disappeared out of frame.
Cold, horrified realization had 87 lunging for the burner phone in her pack. A single button and a verbal passcode later, the Doctor’s cultured, snappish voice greeted her.
“What is it?”
Despite the situation, 87 felt the barest surge of relief that her creator answered her at all.
“Doctor Heron,” she reported as briskly as she could, carefully keeping the panic out of her voice. “The target, Lena McDuck, is fleeing the premises! I think she’s running away.”
The Doctor’s retort was a whip crack. “Then you had better be following her, if you know what’s good for you!”
“I should continue surveillance on foot?” 87 tried to clarify.
“No, you idiot!” the Doctor snarled. With no one to bear witness to her weakness, 87 ducked her head in an instinctive flinch. “Stop her from leaving the city! Operation: Hen House will only succeed if the creature stays with Scrooge, where we can keep an eye on her. He’s only just stopped one fruitless search and we don’t need him to waste FOWL resources on another. We’ll simply have to move up our timetable. You will intercept her now . Do whatever you have to to keep her from leaving the city.”
87 was up and running before the Doctor even finished issuing the order. No time to stop at the home FOWL acquired as part of her cover, where a closet full of outfits for a normal little girl awaited her. First to uncover where her target was headed. Then, acquire a disguise. Fatigues and a ghillie suit weren’t going to cut it, but something was better than nothing, even if she had to pull it out of the garbage.
Operation: Hen House would be a success. Agent 87 was going to become the best friend Lena McDuck ever had.
—
Thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes and she would be home free.
Lena wasn’t anxious by nature, but sitting on that bench, willing the massive gold clock above the information booth to reach 2:30, she’d never felt her heart race harder.
Her eyes darted back and forth behind the fringe of her hair, on the lookout for a purple cardigan and no-nonsense gray bun, or maybe a brown bomber jacket and red hair. She doubted her dad would come looking, but he’d send his employees out in a heartbeat. Him calling the police was also unlikely. He didn’t trust them, and the press even less; the last thing he would want was to turn her escapade into a media frenzy.
Still, Lena tried to keep a wary eye on the few cops patrolling the station, but it was doubly hard when she was sitting in the middle of a chaotic rush hour.
The bus station was a circus and a half and not just because it was packed with travelers of every shape and size. The building itself was a grand, glass and wood panel cathedral to Duckburg’s robust public transit system. It looked old-fashioned, in the way a lot of old downtown Duckburg did. Turn of the century, her dad would’ve called it. She could imagine him standing under that same gold clock a hundred years ago, when it used to be a train station. There might even be an ancient black and white photo of exactly that displayed in a museum somewhere.
Lena scowled. As if she needed the reminder right now.
She just counted her blessings that as loud and horribly busy as the station was, it meant she was utterly unnoticeable. She was even almost grateful for her dad keeping her as far away from him as physically possible the last four years, making it impossible for the masses to recognize her at a glance the way they did him.
This plan had been in the back of her mind for a few months now. Even before the frog incident at Tremaine’s. Students were allowed to work on campus, so she got a job at the bookstore. At her last school, she worked in the dish room. If anyone raised an eyebrow at the idea of the Richest Duck in the World’s kid applying for a menial job, well, she was just trying to start her fortune the honest way, just like her old man.
She worked and she saved and it paid off in the form of a ticket gripped in her sweaty palm, a one-way trip to Cape Suzette. It was a five and a half hour drive to the city on the edge of the world, the city of sea planes, and from there she could go anywhere she wanted. Only four years away from eighteen, she was practically an adult, and the laws in Cape Suzette still allowed kids as young as twelve to become navigators. She’d get the life of adventure Dad promised and never delivered on.
Almost her whole life, everywhere she went, was defined by whose daughter she was. Scrooge McDuck. Legend, explorer, has-been. Who was she, compared to that? Little Lena, who wasn’t all that bright, couldn’t make friends to save her life, and was so, so angry all the time.
Did it help or hurt that she’d never learn who little Lena was supposed to be? Going on some Lifetime movie quest to find her birth parents wasn’t even an option because for all intents and purposes, they didn’t exist. Dad found her, abandoned as a baby, and took her home. Oh, he’d couched it in sweeter words than that when she was five and asked what “adopted” meant, crooning, and there you were, my bonnie wee lass, sprung out of the ground like a daisy!
Before the cracks between them tore open into a chasm, and Lena was old enough to understand that Mrs. B wasn’t playacting at the whole secret agent thing, she asked her who her parents were, because Mrs. B knew everything. Everything but this one thing, it would turn out. Lena Downey McDuck was all she’d ever be.
But maybe it wouldn’t have all been so bad if she wasn’t so alone . Duckworth was there one day and then dead the next, and she’d barely gotten to know Mrs. B before Dad was shipping her out of the state. She grew up in cold, distant halls with girls who were either too scared of who her father was to talk to her, or took it as a challenge to make her life as miserable as possible.
What would it take to make her dad finally see her?
Her visits back home dwindled over the years, spending longer summers at whatever school hadn’t kicked her out yet, fewer birthday candles blown out under the watchful gaze of her grandparents’ portrait. Christmas was the only reliable constant now, sometimes coinciding with Hanukkah, which meant more time with Launchpad, who never visited his family during the holidays and Lena knew better than to ask about.
Christmas was the one time a year her dad would unwind. They’d set up Santa traps just like they used to when she was little, sneak cookies before dinner from under Mrs. B’s nose, watch that terrible Christmas movie from the ‘30s that both her dad and Mrs. B insisted was a classic, and at the end of the night they’d pass out on the couch with bats and Byzantine swords in their hands in case Santa tried to be extra sneaky that year.
But then her dad would be back in the office by Boxing Day and it would be like nothing had changed. Lena, always second to business, to making the richest duck even richer.
In the week leading up to her flight, she made her decision. If he was waiting for her at the airport, like he said he would, she would stay. If he wasn’t…maybe she’d have better luck on her own. Completely on her own.
Lena glanced back at the clock, a flare of hope making her sit up on her bench in the furthest corner of the station.
2:05
Still twenty-five minutes to go.
She dropped her head onto the back of the bench and groaned. Frustratingly enough, she couldn’t even pull out her phone to district herself into making time go faster. She couldn’t rule out the possibility that Mrs. B had some way to track it, even if she didn’t answer any calls or texts, and she wasn’t about to risk giving herself away. Mrs. B had to have found her note by now, reminded Dad that he had a daughter who was now in the process of fleeing the state, and let loose some sort of search party.
Just twenty-five more minutes until she left Duckburg, by choice for once.
Lena just had to resign herself to people watching until then, warily keeping an eye out for anyone who might look like they’re searching for the runaway daughter of the Richest Duck in the World.
There was constant movement in the station, with small pockets of stillness by those sitting on benches like herself or standing still against the tide. There were businesspeople, families, and college students weighed down by luggage, all in a rush to get to their destination.
Lena idly watched a girl around her age walk past. She was dressed sloppily, in a gray hoodie that was at least two sizes too big, and her hair looked like she’d slept headfirst in a bush. The dark circles under her eyes rivaled Lena’s, though she was bright and alert despite that as she scanned the station around her. To Lena, it didn’t look like she was admiring the architecture but rather as if she was looking for someone.
The backpack she was carrying wouldn’t have looked out of place on some reality show for survival nuts, huge and utilitarian and practically bursting at the seams. But dangling innocuously from one of the mesh side pockets was a little plush duck in a pink dress.
As the girl whirled around in her continued search of her mystery someone, Lena watched the doll come loose and fall to the floor. The girl didn’t notice. No one else around Lena seemed to either, or if they noticed they just didn’t care.
The girl made an anxious sort of hopping motion, biting her lower beak, before she turned around entirely, and started to walk away. Accidentally leaving the doll behind.
Lena hadn’t lost sight of her before she groaned and jumped to her feet, dragging her duffel bag with her. She plucked the doll off the ground and hurried after the girl.
“Hey! Hey, you—” She shoved past a few strangers, her duffel serving as a handy battering ram. The girl’s monstrous backpack was right in front of her.
Lena reached out, tapping her on the shoulder.
The girl jumped, but luckily didn’t scream or anything as she turned around with a wide-eyed expression. It quickly exploded into a grin when she saw what Lena was carrying.
“Hey, sorry, I saw you dropped—” Lena said unnecessarily.
“My Quacky Patch doll!” the girl gushed, taking the plush back gratefully. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I really don’t know what I’d do without her. I’ve had her since I was little!”
Lena shrugged, feeling a little warm under her feathers at the effusive praise. “No prob. You looked like you were in a hurry, and I didn’t want you leaving little miss pink behind.”
Oh, yeah, I never would’ve noticed! And I’ll have you know, her name’s Mallory McMallard, and she fights organized crime,” the girl said primly, carefully tucking the doll into one of the many zippers that covered her bag.
Lena snorted without really meaning to. “Oh yeah?”
It was the girls turn to shrug, smiling helplessly. “I did say that I got her when I was little.” She stuck out her hand between them. “Thank you, again! You’re the first person I’ve met in Duckburg, and you’ve given me a great impression of the city so far.”
Lena stepped back a bit, discomfort tightening in her stomach. “Oh, uh, I wouldn’t know about that. I’m actually planning to leave as soon as possible.
The girl’s cheery expression dropped. Lena felt a weird pang of…something. Most new people she met were glad to see her go. “Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Well…it was still nice to meet you…?”
Ugh, she was being rude wasn’t she? At least Duckworth would never have to know that all his etiquette training had been wasted on her. “Oh, I’m, uh, I’m Lena.”
The girl stuck out her hand again, aggressively chipper. “Hi, I’m Webby!”
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Ghostober Day 7
Now that we've survived the last show of the tour and we can all breathe a sigh of relief, I can welcome you to Day 7 of Ghostober created by @kroas-adtam!
Pairing: Copia/Rain
Main tag(s): Cockwarming
Additional tag(s)/cw: light Dom/sub
Word Count: 1298 words
Read also on ao3!
“Rain? Would you mind keeping me company here?” Copia asked, his eyes no longer on the pile of papers but staring right into the ghoul’s dark eyes. “I’ve some paperwork to do, mainly the one that you’ve just brought and, uh…”
“Of course, Papa!” Rain smiled and wagged his tail, excited to spend some time with his summoner.
It was easy to notice that the water demon beamed with happiness, uninterested about what exactly he would be doing. He was simply content to be with his Papa for a little while longer, since it was rather a rarity that he had such a merry chance.
“What do you want me to do? Where can I stay?” The ghoul continued, thrilled.
“Actually, tadpole,” Copia wondered aloud, making Rain’s dorsal fin flutter at the nickname, “come here.”
Swaying his tail in the air, Rain approached his Papa, who turned to the side on his desk chair, so that he could fully face the ghoul. He looked up at him and found the curious tilt of his head charming. Unable to resist the mesmerising nature of that particular water ghoul, Copia stood up and raised his gloved hand to caress Rain’s cheek, which elicited a little happy chirp from him and caused a soft indigo blush to settle on his cheekbones.
“Aren’t you a beautiful creature?” Copia mused and had Rain smile in an instant.
“Thank you, Papa.”
“You should thank our Master for having made you like this.”
Copia returned the smile and his words made Rain giggle ever so softly, enabling him to hook his thumb over the ghoul’s lower lip. A chill shook Rain’s body as he kept watching his Papa’s moves from under his eyelashes. His gaze quickly grew fond due to being able to see Copia from this close and admire the face paint he so often wore.
When Copia pressed down against the water ghoul’s lip, the tip of the imp’s tail twitched as he realised that his Papa was examining his long and sharp teeth that surely weren’t as impressive as the ones of Aether’s, for instance. Quirking his eyebrow up, Copia’s eyes met Rain’s again, since he noticed the shift in the demon’s aura.
“A mouthful of sharp and pearl-white needles. So beautiful and yet so terrifying at once,” Copia commented with admiration in his voice, lifting Rain’s spirits up a notch.
After the last glance at the ghoul’s fangs, he took his hand away.
“They’re not as big as the others’,” Rain sighed.
“Because you’re still young, tadpole.” Copia rubbed his cheek with his hand again. “Maybe that’s for the better, considering what I’ll ask you to do.”
“What? Why?”
“Can you keep those pretty needles of yourself away from me?”
Rain knitted his eyebrows, never breaking the eye contact with his Papa. His tail turned into a swirl at its end – Rain’s confusion evident even there.
“Answer me, please.”
“I-I, yes! I can!” The ghoul nodded, loving the way the he was nudged to reply.
“So, tadpole, get under the desk for me.”
As soon as Copia’s hand left Rain’s cheek, the imp fell onto his hands and knees and scrambled to his designated spot. He then knelt there, feeling a bit uncomfortable due to having to hide his height in a relatively tight space. Making himself as comfortable as he could, he waited for Copia and watched him sit down on his chair and turn to face the desk. Eventually, Rain found himself between his Papa’s thighs.
Rain’s tail swished to the left and right in anticipation as his and Copia’s eyes met again. There was fire in his Papa’s mismatched irises, which excited Rain and made him grow impatient to hear what else Copia had in store for him. Hoping that this would speed things up, the water ghoul leaned his head against Copia’s thigh and rubbed his face against it, encouraging his summoner to give him yet another order.
Before he got that, though, Rain earned a ruffle of his hair and a couple of tender strokes along his short horns. He purred in response, the vibrations travelling through Copia’s leg straight to his groin. He exhaled at the feeling and began to undo his belt and pants.
“Let’s put that mouth of yours to some use then, yes?” He asked softly, though his voice was now also tinted with some kind of rush.
Rain smiled and his whole body moved with his wagging tail. He watched the dexterous and leather-covered fingers work until his eyes and mind focused on his Papa’s lightly hard shaft.
“If you keep me nice and warm now, I’ll give you a reward. Does it sound good to you, tadpole?”
“Yes, Papa,” he huffed, shifting on his knees as a wave of arousal shot to his underbelly.
“Good ghoul. Now open.”
With no hesitation, Rain obeyed and let his mouth fall slack. He stuck his tongue out a bit, making Copia growl at the sight of such an eager ghoul. He then grabbed one of Rain’s horns to guide him onto his length that he was holding in his other hand. Letting out a shaky exhale, Copia stroked the horn lovingly, watching the demon’s lips close around his cock to keep it inside.
Copia could barely take his eyes off of Rain whose mouth was stuffed with his dick. The way Rain’s eyes closed and his body relaxed made warmth creep into the Papa’s heart, for the water ghoul was clearly enjoying the new role he’d just been given.
As Copia turned his attention back to the pile of papers, Rain leaned his head against the man’s inner thigh again. The imp was breathing calmly through his nose, the nostrils flaring slightly. His tongue wasn’t moving, lying flat at the bottom of his mouth. He felt utter serenity at that moment, he felt freed from all the other duties and concerns he may have had.
Being degraded to nothing but a creature that would gladly keep its summoner’s cock in its mouth, sitting still and ignoring its own gradually growing erection and dripping hole, was something that Rain adored. He was enjoying it especially when he got to do this with his Papa. It wasn’t that serving someone else like that wasn’t nice – because it was – it just felt different.
Nevertheless, the water ghoul still thought about all the times when Aether had used him like that. The images in his head made him squirm in his spot and move about a little when he became painfully aware of how hard he himself had got. He then tried to steer his attention someplace else, focusing on his Papa’s member that had grown much stiffer since he’d last realised that.
Thinking about his Papa and the quintessence ghoul caused Rain to purr, which sent a pleasant current through Copia’s body. He shifted in his seat, one of his hands travelling down to pet the ghoul’s hair. It only spurred Rain on and he laid his own palm atop the bulge in his pants to rub and press on it in a slow manner. It elicited a muffled mewl from him and had him start sucking on the cock in his mouth.
“Shit, Rain!” Copia hissed and looked down at the ghoul, meeting his watery and pleading eyes. “Growing impatient there, yes?” He asked, his voice shaky and breathy.
He got a slow blink in response.
“Give me a couple of minutes more and Papa will take care of you.”
Rain huffed through his nose and let his mouth sink on the half-erect shaft of his Papa, forcing another sharp hiss out of him as he hit the back of the ghoul’s throat.
“You’ve just convinced your Papa to take care of you right now.”
#kinktober 2023#ghostober 2023#ghost fic#the band ghost#ghost the band#ghost#my post#papa emeritus iv#nameless ghouls#rain#rain ghoul
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fnaf timetravel au snippet stuff
When he opened his eyes, the bright blue sky was the first thing he noticed. The second thing he noticed is that his head felt like it was an aftermath of a party you'd see from the movies. With a groan, Gregory sits up.
Now the third thing he noticed is that he wasn’t in the ruined depths of the pizzaplex anymore. In fact, it was far from it. Surrounding him was an alleyway with graffiti plastered on the brick walls and a few posters. The wall behind him was boxing him in with no other entrance besides the one in front which showed a street where a few cars passed by. Gregory gets up from the ground and dusts off the evidence that was the only thing proving that he was in the pizzaplex last night. Particles of concrete filled his nose, causing him to sneeze.
He sniffles for a moment before his eyes land on a few posters. There were papers of missing children, all through the ages of twelve to eight. There seemed to be six in total.
Gabriel, Fritz, Susie, Jeremy, Cassidy, and the last one being named Charlie.
While seeing a bunch of missing children papers in a random alleyway, with no eyes to see them was creepy. What was creepier was the fact that these papers seemed to be from the seventies. There was not an ounce of aging in sight.
Gregory rips one of the papers off the wall to take a closer and yep, sure enough these seemed to be new. If Freddy was here—or even Vanessa, they’d be quick to suggest that these were pranks. He’d believe them too if it weren’t for the familiar sounding names. He had seen these names before but from where?
He sighs and decides to fold the paper before stuffing in his back pocket. His goal was to find out the history of fazbear entertainment but somehow ended up in an alleyway. Nothing seemed to be stolen, he still had his fazwatch, his backpack and his phone so it all seemed like he just teleported. Did he sleepwalk, or did he get kidnapped and was just placed here?
Not wanting to find out which one was right, he decides to walk towards the entrance of the alley. He peeks around the corner to see stores he doesn’t recognize and what sets the creepiness in stone was the fact that people dressed strangely. Baggy clothes and fluffy hair– and I mean really fluffy hair. What also came with the weirdness was the vehicles that didn’t look real. Everything looked like he was placed in a back to the future movie—
Wait.
Newly printed paper that was from the year he wasn’t even close to being born in and outdated fashion choices? Was this real? Did he really time travel!?
He takes a few steps down the sidewalk, and holds the straps of his backpack closer to himself. Nothing was recognizable here, so for the first few steps was stressed until he spotted a sign in the far distance. It was the face he saw in glass containers in the museum section of the pizzaplex and it was the base where all his merch came from. Freddy Fazbear.
Feeling more relieved at the familiar face, he runs down the sidewalk of the town until a restaurant comes into view. Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza was the name on it, and it was unrecognizable to him. The name was familiar but he never heard of the restaurant. He didn’t think it was in his city, unless it was newly established. Though the obvious aging on the sign and on the side of the building told him otherwise. He must’ve been in the dark despite considering himself an ultimate freddy fan because the restaurant seemed to be popular
He ran across the parking lot and slid through the packed cars before he reached the entrance. The door rings as he pushes open the door, and he’s met with the sight of kids running around tables, adults playing at the bowling alley while a mix of both played at the arcade. The building was large. Small compared to the mall, but big enough to remind him of a restaurant Vanessa would sometimes take him too.
He looks around before someone at a counter clears his throat, he looks up to see a tired looking kid with tanned skin and black hair staring down at him with a mean look. He gulps before going up to the wooden counter.
“Uh, hi.” Gregory says awkwardly with a wave. The kid only gives a nod in response before picking up a clipboard. He wore a hat that had the building’s logo, and wore a red shirt. A plastic name tag with the name ‘mike’ was written on it.
“Are you here for today’s birthday party?” Mike asks with a sigh. Gregory glances at the board before looking back up the kid.
“Oh. uh, no.” he answers. Mike then sighs once more before tossing aside the board somewhere on the desk. The clack of it hitting something was startling but the kid didn’t seem to care. Damn, what was his problem? In fact, why was he even here? The employee didn’t look like a highschooler and instead looked a few years older than him. “Uh, are you supposed to be working here? You don’t look like a highschooler.”
“That’s because I’m not.” Mike answers before glancing at the clock above the entrance. “I’m just standing in for someone, now are you here to order something or not? My dad doesn’t like people loitering.”
“Oh.” he replies quickly before looking at the back of the store where there were signs of food and such. He nods awkwardly at the kid before going up to the other counter where two more employees stood idly chatting to one another.
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incomplete, and if you seen any spelling errors no you didn't
#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#writing#fnaf gregory#i'll write more soon probably... hopefully#butterfly au
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