#— until you have a box filled to the brim with no room to breathe and a bloodied mess on the floor outside of it where the rest of him lies

[anqelbean]

Man, looking through danmei confessions was a mistake

[love-and-pastries]

I have this friend that I haven't seen in a year. Last time I saw them, they were skinnier than me and barely ate when stopping by. They didn't ask for snacks or anything to eat unless I was already planning on eating something. That's all fine and good, but I saw them again after about a year...

They had clearly put on at least 100 pounds, potentially 150, and I know it sounds like I'm exaggerating, but I assure you that I'm not. When the couch barely made a sound before, it creaked and groaned against their weight. When they had no issues getting around, going up the stairs left them out of breath. When the floorboards were silent with their footsteps, they now stepped heavily around the house with the boards creaking loudly underneath them. Even their clothes, which had to be new, were struggling against their overstuffed belly.

The first thing they did was ask me for something to eat, so I gladly made them ramen. They requested two packets and a soft-boiled egg, and I gladly provided. After their meal, they asked for snacks, so I willingly gave them whatever they wanted - all that I had. They finished an entire box of cheezits and a half of a second box. They also finished half a box of cookies. They wanted hot chocolate to go with this, so again, I provided, making sure to add extra whip cream and small marshmallows. As much as I tried not to, I found myself sneaking a glance at their shirt that was now riding up on them slightly as their belly hung over their pants.

They told me they were still hungry and somewhat reluctantly asked if I had anything left to eat. I happily agreed and made a full pizza, not expecting to eat a single bite of it myself. I brought the pizza over to the kitchen table, and they took a seat, the wooden chair creaking loudly as they did so. After I added some extra cheese on top, they took a slice and quickly devoured it. Then they took another, and another. I kept them talking as they ate, somewhat of a distraction, and before they realized it, they had eaten the entire pizza. I could tell their pants were barely clinging to them, and it was clear their shirt was riding up much more than it had been before. They looked stuffed, and I could see a look in their eyes that said, "If I eat any more, I'll pop."

Their stomach, however, disagreed with their comfort and growled. Clearly embarrassed, they tried to play it off, but I knew better. I grabbed them a dessert - a tub of strawberry ice cream, a small slice of chocolate cake, ice, extra sugar, a bit of cinnamon, and a half pint of heavy cream. I pulled out my blender and made a delicious and thick milkshake. How many calories it was, I can't exactly say, but I had to be a good host to my starving friend, no? I couldn't let them go hungry.

I handed them a glass of the drink, and, hesitantly at first, they started politely drinking, but as they continued, their polite sips turned into desperate gulps, as if they hadn't drank anything in ages. They chugged the drink down - one glass became two, and two became three, and so on until the drink had been finished entirely. Their breathing was a bit more labored as they sat, seemingly pinned to their chair by their weight, and with one final gulp of their glass, the button on their pants flew off, and their belly spilled out of the far-too-tight jeans. They were extremely embarrassed, but of course, I reassured them, letting them know that it just meant there was more room to eat their fill.

As their belly hung out, filled to the brim with food, it growled, begging for more. My friend's expression said that they could barely handle more, but their stomach clearly had other ideas. With a polite smile, I asked, "Are you still hungry?"

[ssrleona]

homecoming (I)

pairing: leona kingscholar x fem!reader

warnings: slight angst, allusions to childhood mistreatment

word count: 1.5k

s: at your insistence, you finally visit the afterglow savannah and meet Leona's family

a/n: this was written before the tamashna muina event released. and since I haven't read the trans yet, how I describe the savannah and its culture may not be the same as it was described in game. I'm East African, and since the lion king was essentially a mishmash of East African culture (mostly Kenya, Ethiopia, and for some reason some stuff from W. Africa), most of what I describe comes from my own cultural background + light research. enjoy!

It starts with a letter.

It’s not unusual for Night Raven College to be overrun by its unruly student body, but the coming summer holiday brings a new level of restlessness that hums through the walls. Hasty stops at the school store, last minute assignments, bittersweet goodbyes. Even the faculty seem on edge and ready to end the semester.

Ruggie all but collapses at your feet when he spots you in the hall of mirrors, heaving a woven basket twice his size. It’s filled to the brim with an assortment of different packages; mailers, bags, miniature boxes wrapped in newspaper clippings and assorted wrapping paper. A neat ivory envelope tied with a golden ribbon at the very top.

He gives it to you. “Could you hand this off to Leona? I have enough on my plate as it is.”

“Is it usually this bad?” You ask, eyeing the precarious stack that’s leaning just a little too close to the floor. You turn the envelope in your hands. The words on the front are written in a script you can’t make out, only recognizing ‘Leona Kingscholar’ in the far left corner. It’s bulky, like someone crammed multiple letters inside, but doesn’t take away the luxurious quality of the paper. It’s silk between your fingertips.

“It’s from his family, so I doubt he’d read it anyways,” Ruggie comments. He hefts the basket from the floor, “Throw it out if you want.”

His family.

Besides bitter remarks thrown in passing, Leona never speaks of them. Or his home. What you’re holding in your hands is the only piece of the other Kingscholar’s you’ve ever gotten so close to. The letter is tucked away before you give the suggestion a second thought. 

“You came all this way, I might as well.” 

“You just wanna read it, huh?” 

“And you wouldn’t?”

Ruggie laughs at that, turning to the door with a shake of his head. “There’s a reason curiosity killed the cat. Something’s I’d rather not know.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Took you long enough.”

Warm arms circle your waist as you enter the room, dragging you backwards until you hit the plushness of his sheets. He’s practically on top of you. Flush against him, back to chest. His head finds its way to the crook of your neck and you can feel the sigh he releases on the wisps of your hair. The softness of his tail curling around your ankle.

Leona’s tone is scalding, but the delicate possessiveness of his actions tell you otherwise.

You turn your head. Heavy olive irises sharpen as you place the letter between the both of you. “I got caught up.”

Groaning, he’s quick to toss it on the nightstand before burrowing himself further into your neck. With you two so close, sheets ballooned around you, a drowsy warmth fills you. It’s hard not to fall into it.

“That’s the last thing I need right now.” He huffs.

You raise a brow. “You haven’t even read it.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the same old shtick. Naggin’ me to come for break.” 

He sighs. “If it was up to me I’d just stay here.”

“Aw, you’d miss me that much?” You tease, yelping as he pinches your side. The laugh pulled from his lips ease into a yawn.

“In your dreams.” Leona exhales. His breath evens out, warm against the shell of your ear as he’s lulled into sleep. 

And that was that.

In your position on the bed, you have a perfect view of the nightstand, eyes catching the glimmer of gold ribbon in the dim light.

Coming to Twisted Wonderland, you’ve constantly been thrusted into the most asinine of situations all while being told to keep your head down and leave things where they lie.

But you're a curious sort by nature. It’s a hunger, insatiable in its pursuit to pick everything apart, examine every crack and rough edge, feel the grain against the pad of your fingers, piece by piece. You’ve disrupted the debased philosophies of Night Raven College’s elite because you’re always pushing for more, not settling for less.

This is not something you are ashamed of.

Yet, as you stare at the envelope in front of you, you can’t help but feel hesitant.

Leona is an enigma, an ever changing labyrinth. The moment you think you have him figured out, the layout changes and you’re back at square one. And it leaves you starved.

You want to know him, yearn to trace his patterns like the dips in the back of your hand; know where each curve started, why it ends, and swallow it whole to keep wherever you go.

 You also know this: if you push too far Leona will close himself away and never let you see these parts of him ever again. And you’ve grown greedy.

(Something’s I’d rather not know)

You grab the envelope.

The ribbon gives easily enough, and you’re met with letter after letter, all scrawled in messy print. You realize these were written by Cheka– asking his uncle how he’s doing, when he’s coming to visit, and what he’s been up to at the palace since the last time Leona saw him. On the bottom of some of the pages were crayon drawings: portraits of his parents and scenes of Leona and him together, exploring the palace or traveling through the city. 

As you sift through, a paper falls into your lap. 

It’s a photograph of Cheka and who you’d assume to be his parents. The man in the photo is laughing, light smile lines gracing his face. Cheka’s in his arms, and the woman beside them looks at the sight with fondness. The background is flooded with the country’s namesake- an assortment of orange, yellow, and pinks kaleidoscopes together in a painting of the setting sun. It looks homey, tender and inviting, and you can’t help the smile that curls around your lips.

You’d love to be there, surrounded in that warmth.

 Leona’s scoff makes you jump, looking over at him, and his bleary eyes meet your stare. His expression was mostly hidden in the depth of your shoulder but he didn’t look pleased. You didn’t realize you said the words aloud, or that your movements woke him.

“Go be a comedian if you wanna start telling jokes.” He grunts. You turn yourself in his grasp to face him fully and his arms tighten their hold. His hair is mused with sleep, blanketing the pillows beneath. Your hands itch to touch it.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” You insisted. He scowls at this, tail shifting back and forth beneath the sheets. “ I want to see the Afterglow Savannah, the palace, your family. It'd be nice to know where you grew up.”

The message is quiet. You do not tell me enough.

Leona grows silent. Contemplative. He knows when you get like this, stuck on an idea that overrules your every action, close to nothing can convince you otherwise. 

He told you once that’s a trait he liked about you in the best of times. 

( ‘But half the time it just makes you hard headed’ he said, and snickered at your glare.)

Leona knows you well, too well. Usually this would bring a coy flush to your face, but you couldn’t help but grimace at the thought.

“I just want to know more about you.” You admit. 

“You could just ask.”

“Like you’d tell me.”

He says nothing, looking through you, deep in thought. Leona doesn’t seem annoyed by your probing, but something about the furrow in his brows looks resigned. Bitter.

“There’s nothing worth seeing.” He bites out. “It’s a bunch of royals too stuck up to see past their ivory towers.”

The photo; the honest smiles and laughter.

“I’m sure there’s more than that.” You contend.

Something bubbles forth in him. A dark quality you haven't seen before. He growls deep in his throat. It’s too low for your ears to catch, but you feel it reverberate through the bed and into your chest. 

“ Yeah, the stupid age old rules they hide behind–and they're sure to ostracize anyone who steps outside it.”  He meets your gaze.“Birth order is the only thing that matters. If you’re not first then you’re nothing.”

 The vitriol in his tone catches you off guard, and the words fall away from your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Do you hate the Afterglow Savannah?” 

Instead of the eruption of anger you expected, the brewing storm leaves him sullen.

You regret it as soon as it passed through your lips

“You really don’t let up do you?” He sighs. Leona’s voice is oddly gentle. You wait for the other shoe to drop; anger, arrogance–anything. But it never comes. His arms move you so you’re in your original position, back to chest, as if the conversation never happened. Except this time, he curls himself into you– his body hiding you away, swallowing you whole.

“Stop worrying about it.” He mumbles. “Hurry up and sleep.”

You don’t. You spend that afternoon staring at the photo, tracing over their juvenile smiles.

Leona’s was not one of them.

TBC

[stop-talking]

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 6)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word count: 3.3k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, HEAVY angst, fluff, enemies, enemies to lovers, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, mentions of masturbating.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Derek wakes up in your arms, and decides that's exactly how he wants to start every morning from now on.

Today's the day. He's going to confess to you.

Well, if he can sneak out of bed without waking you up. That might prove to be a challenge, seeing as how you have both an arm and a leg draped over him.

Under other circumstances, he'd be content to just lay here and let you hold him. Unfortunately, there was a sort of... "incident" last night. One he desperately wants to clean up after.

So, he carefully moves your limbs, shifting slowly until he's off the bed. You stir in your sleep and he waits with bated breath, but thankfully you remain unconscious.

It's still early morning. Barely past sunrise, from what he can tell. Hopefully he'd have time to get a few things done before you inevitably realize he's gone.

As he slips out of his clothes to hop into the shower, he's suddenly extremely grateful you'd taught him how to use the washing machine. If you saw the mess he'd made of his boxers, he would probably have to off himself.

While he washes off, he goes over his plan for the day in his head. Derek has always been somewhat of a romantic, despite how things may seem. Dating is just... complicated when you're a billionaire. And the president's son. And a crackhead.

He groans and shakes himself out of his slump as he dries himself on a towel. None of those things matter here. Right now, he isn't an addict, billionaire, or the son of the president. He's just a man.

A man who desperately needs to tell you how he feels. Derek is sure if he has to spend one more "platonic" night in your bed he's going to go insane.

So, he starts to put his plan into motion.

"Half cup water... one and one-half cups mix..." He mutters, reading the instructions on the back of the box of pancake mix. Even though you've had him help cook almost every meal, he still hasn't learned much. He's an expert at standing there and stirring, sure, but actually cooking? Not really.

Pancakes, though? He's pretty confident he can make those. Hell, he could probably scramble a few eggs to go with it. You'd taught him that a couple days ago.

He wants to show you he's serious. How much he appreciates what you've done for him, and how much more he needs from you.

But what can he offer in return?

Breakfast, for a start. If he was back home, he'd either take you out somewhere nice or have his chefs prepare something. That isn't an option here, but he could make due.

Derek stands back and studies the stack of pancakes and skillet of scrambled eggs. It looks... edible? Right? Not terrible, at least.

He sighs and starts to clean up the counter. He'd made quite the mess, probably dripping an entire pancake's worth of batter everywhere. You make cooking look so easy, damnit.

Now what? Go wake you up? No, surely there's something else he can do for you. His brow furrows in concentration as he takes the dirty dishes to the sink. The sink that's already filled to the brim with old cups, plates, and cutlery.

Fuck. Guess he's doing the dishes.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You wake up feeling uneasy. Something's missing.

No... someone is missing. Where's Derek?

After checking his bedroom, you stumble downstairs, still in your pajamas.

"Derek?" You call out, getting a little more anxious with every empty room you pass through. Where the hell is he?

"In here!"

Oh. The kitchen. Duh. You turn the corner and see Derek with his sleeves rolled up, arms plunged elbow-deep into soapy water.

"What are you doing?" You can't help but ask, even though the answer is obvious. He's doing the dishes. Without a fuss.

"Oh, uh... just... I used a lot of dishes making breakfast, and-" He stammers, nodding his head over to the stove.

"Breakfast?" You follow his gaze, eyeing the stack of pancakes.

Is this real? Did Derek fucking Danforth just wake up early and make you breakfast? And what the hell is he wearing?

"Yeah. I thought I'd thank you. You know, for the cake."

He dries his hands off on a dishcloth, and you silently take in his outfit. He's dressed up. Or, at least, what Derek probably considers dressed up. It's a little strange seeing him back in one of those silk button-ups he's so fond of after nearly a week of the regular ol' shorts and t-shirts his mom picked out for him.

Oh, shit. He's looking at you. Say something.

"What's the occasion?" You finally spit out, eyes darting between his clothes, the clean dishes, and the fresh breakfast.

Derek scoffs. "Occasion? Does there have to be an occasion for me to do something nice for you?"

"Guess not." You mumble, still a little dazed from everything that's happened in the past few minutes.

"A 'thank you' would be nice, ya know." He crosses his arms and gives you an exaggerated pout.

"Oh my god, Derek." Laughing, you forcefully un-cross his arms and pull him into an embrace, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He groans from the sheer force of your hug, and wraps his arms around you as well, returning the gesture in earnest.

Holding him so close like this, you can't help but notice his scent. He smells... different.

"Is that cologne?" You ask, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes as you giggle.

Derek's cheeks flush pink and he stammers out a response, tripping over his words.

"I-I always wear cologne."

"No, you don't. At least not lately."

"And how would you know? You make it a habit of smelling me?"

He's obviously trying to bait you, so you just roll your eyes.

"Derek. You've practically been living on my lap lately. I know what you usually smell like."

"Okay, well, I wanted to smell nice today. Sue me."

"You want to smell nice today... but there's no occasion?" You lean in a little closer, and give him your best teasing smile. He's just trying so hard today, it's adorable.

Derek opens his mouth to say something, but instead just gives you a weak smile. His eyes flicker from your eyes down to your lips, and his arms squeeze you a little tighter.

Shit. If you keep this up, he's probably going to kiss you. Or you'll kiss him. And you aren't quite sure how to feel about that.

Still, you don't want to break the hug just yet. One of your hands makes it's way up to his earlobe, and you start to fiddle with his earring. Your other arm remains firmly wrapped around his waist.

"This a real diamond?"

"Of course." He scoffs, and with how close you are, you can feel his little huff of breath on your face.

"You aren't scared to lose it?"

"I have a hundred more just like it, sweetheart."

Of course he does. Rich bastard. You try to pull away, but he clings onto you.

"Hey, I still didn't get a thank you." Derek pouts, giving you that pitiful expression he's so good at. Damnit.

Fine, he wants a thank-you? You know exactly how to thank him...

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Here, let me get that for you." For the first time, Derek offers to carry the little bag of essentials as you make your way down to the beach together.

As he slugs the heavy thing over his shoulder, he feels a bit of regret for not offering sooner. He likes to think of himself as a gentleman, but obviously he isn't if he's been making you carry this damn thing all along.

"Thank you, love."

All those feelings of remorse fade when you take his hand and smile. His chest floods with warmth and he can't help but wish you'd thank him the same way you did earlier that morning.

He still can't believe you actually kissed him. On the cheek, sure, but a kiss is a kiss, and Derek isn't going to complain.

"It's pretty out today." He muses, looking up at the clear sky. You simply hum in agreement as the two of you trudge through the sand together.

This is a way more romantic setting than the kitchen. That's why Derek hasn't yet confessed to you. Not because you make him nervous or anything.

Okay, maybe it's partially due to nerves. He can't help it. You kissed him before he could get a word out.

You kissed him.

Thinking about it makes him grin like a fool, and he squeezes your hand a little tighter as he walks. He still can't believe he got so lucky.

And hey, maybe he'll get lucky again.

"Race you to the water!"

Or maybe not. Derek groans and drops the beach bag, then rushes after you. He kicks up sand, then water as he makes his way into the ocean.

"FUCK, it's cold." He cries out as the water reaches his chest. Honestly, he didn't even plan to wade in this deep, but he was determined to catch up to you.

"Oh, don't be a baby. It feels nice."

Derek's breath hitches as you snake an arm around his waist, pulling him tightly against your side. Tentatively, he puts his own arm around your back.

"You're gonna regret making fun of me when I fucking drown right in front of you." He grumbles, still a little uneasy being this far in the ocean.

"I won't let you drown. Even if it's a little tempting." You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"It's tempting to let me drown?" He scoffs, feigning annoyance. It's so hard to be mad at you when you're cuddled up to him like this.

"Maybe." Your other arm wraps around him now, trapping him in a tight hug.

Derek's heart pounds and he can feel his brain go fuzzy. This is it. He should tell you, right now, how much he wants you. How much he needs you.

Unfortunately, before he can stammer out a response, a wave draws near. An especially tall wave.

He tries to take a few steps back, but his legs tangle with yours and he stumbles. In his terrified state, he only grips you tighter, effectively pulling you back with him.

The two of you plunge into the water and Derek nearly drowns you in an attempt to right himself. After a few seconds of struggling, he feels you hook your hands under his armpits and pull him up.

He coughs and sputters, then braces himself as that wave he'd seen earlier finally washes over the both of you. For a minute, he's certain he's a goner. The water goes over his head before he can even hold his breath, mouth still full of saltwater.

You hold him tightly against your chest as the wave passes over you both, then start dragging him back towards the shore. When he finally opens his eyes and shakes the water from his ears, he notices the sky has gone dark. Shit.

"Are you okay, love?"

Derek just blinks at you as he wobbles to his feet in the knee-deep water, trembling fiercely. Your hands cup his face, turning it left and right as you inspect every inch of him.

He pulls away, if only to cough up a gallon of water.

"Might need... CPR... mouth-to-mouth...?" He chokes out, laughing in an attempt to get his racing heart under control.

"Oh my god, Derek. First you nearly scare me to death, then you ask for a kiss?" You give him a light shove, but your face gives away the relief you feel.

"In my defense, I did warn you I was going to drown." He scoffs.

Your response is cut off as it starts to drizzle. The sky, which was a perfect endless blue just minutes ago, is now completely covered in dark clouds.

"You wanna finish this inside?"

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

After showering off the sand and saltwater, you throw on some pajamas and head over to Derek's room.

Yeah, it's the middle of the afternoon, but with the raging storm outside...? Well, it just feels like a pajama kind of day.

"Derek?" You call out, making sure to knock loudly on his door. Don't need any more accidents. "Can I come in?"

"No." He croaks, and you're certain you can hear him sniffle.

Shit. You'd better apologize soon.

"Please?"

No response. Damnit.

"I'm coming in anyways." You announce, slowly opening the door.

Derek lies sprawled across his bed, one arm draped over his face. The room is depressingly dark for the middle of the day, and the dreary whether definitely isn't helping.

Still, his outfit almost makes you chuckle. He's sporting a green robe that you hope he has some kind of clothes under, and his hair is still damp from his shower. God, this man certainly has a flair for the dramatic.

"Derek, love? What are you doing?"

He groans as you flick on his lamp, burying his face further into his arm.

"Sulking." He answers honestly.

You sigh and hop up to sit next to him on the bed, instinctively placing a hand in his hair. A familiar tightness pulls at your chest as you try to find the right words to say. Guilt.

"I'm so sorry for earlier. I shouldn't have made you go that far out, not when you can't even swim. I should have-"

Derek cuts you off, weakly pushing your hand away.

"Stop. Not mad at you."

His half-assed grunt of a response throws you off. What? Not mad at you? Then what the hell is he sulking for?

You sit in silence for a minute, chewing on his words. Fuck, how do you fix this? He almost fucking drowned because of you.

"Still want that mouth-to-mouth?" You tease, nudging him.

That gets him to look up at you. His eyes are puffy and red, a sign he's been crying.

"Is that a serious offer?"

"Was it a serious request?"

You both silently stare at each other, for a lot longer than you probably should. Does he actually want a kiss? Damnit, why are you even considering this?

"Just tell me what's bothering you."

Derek sighs and tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

"A lot of things."

"That's real specific. Thanks."

Without even looking, he gently smacks your leg with a hand. Brat.

"C'mon, Derek? Please?" You lean over him, lacing your fingers into his hair once more. He doesn't want you to leave, not really. You're sure of it.

"Well for starters, my head hurts." He grumbles, leaning into your touch.

"And my throat feels weird. I think I swallowed half the ocean."

You start to reply, but he opens his eyes and holds up a hand, shushing you.

"Seriously. When we finally have internet again, check the news. There'll be headlines about it. 'RISING SEA LEVELS MYSTERIOUSLY FIX THEMSELVES; NO LONGER AN ISSUE' or some shit."

You burst into a fit of laughter. God, he's so dramatic.

"Wow, I... Anything else?" You sputter out, choking back more laughter.

Derek just glares up at you, so you gently tug at his curls and plant a quick kiss on his forehead. It's not... weird, right? You've already kissed his cheek. This isn't much different.

He lets out a soft whimper and shifts slightly, scooting closer to you.

"You wanna lay on my lap?"

"Please."

It's not a strange request. Your lap seems to be one of Derek's favorite places lately, as you've both gotten more comfortable with each other. So, you decide to try something a bit different.

"Here, no, this way..." You scoop your arms underneath him and he melts at your touch, letting you move his limp body how you like.

After a little bit of struggle, you get him situated between your legs. His cheek rests against your bare thigh, his stubble tickling your skin. Guess your pajama shorts are riding up quite a bit. Oops.

"How's that, love?"

He just hums in response, eyes closed again as you play with his hair. One of his hands makes it's way up your leg, settling on your thigh, right next to his face. He doesn't grab or grope you, seeming content with the gentle touch.

His hand is soft. You've noticed that before, but now, in contrast with his scratchy stubble, it feels even softer. He has the hands of a man who's never had to work a day in his life.

And here he is, acting like a lapdog.

"I've been trying to tell you something all day." He mumbles groggily, probably already half-asleep.

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

There's a long pause. You continue to stroke his hair, and he nuzzles against your thigh. Your eyes wander down his figure, smiling at the green robe. It looks good on him. It'd probably look better off him.

Maybe putting him between your legs was a bad idea, because suddenly your mind is plagued with images of him coming. Fuck, that was nearly a week ago now, and you can still envision it perfectly.

"Are you... gonna tell me?" You finally ask, trying to distract yourself.

"Not sure I should, honestly."

"If not telling me is making you cry like this... you should probably just spill."

"I'm not crying." He shifts, letting his head fall back between your legs as he pouts up at you.

Fuck. He's so goddamn close. You give him an incredulous look in return.

"Okay, I'm not crying anymore." He corrects himself, avoiding your gaze.

"Just tell me what's on your mind, love."

He grabs your hand and moves it to cup his cheek as he finally looks back up into your eyes. His expression is that of pure admiration. God, he looks so vulnerable.

When he finally speaks, it's barely above a whisper.

"I think I'm falling for you."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek's breath hitches. He can't believe the words that just came out of his mouth. Above him, you look equally shocked. He watches as you seem to go through the five stages of grief, expression changing rapidly.

He just lies there, frozen in anticipation. Your hand presses against his cheek a little more tightly and you let out a sigh.

"Derek, no."

No? What the hell does that mean? Is this a rejection? His heart plummets into his stomach and before he can ask, you speak again.

"No, you aren't." You speak firmly, eyes fixed on his.

"Fuck does that mean?" He stammers, starting to get agitated. How can you so confidently declare you know his own feelings better than he does?

"It means you don't like me like that. Not really. I'm just the only person around."

Before he can argue further, you move your hand over his mouth, cutting him off.

"And you're not yourself right now. Not with the withdrawals and whatnot. This isn't right. I'd be taking advantage of you."

Derek's chest tightens and he bites his tongue. Fuck. He didn't think of it like that. Still, he doesn't really care. He'd happily let you take advantage of him. But how to explain that to you?

"It's not- you're not... I..." He rips your hand away, tripping over his own words as he tries to voice his feelings. Why do you look blurry?

Shit. He's crying again.

The worst part is, you're making sense. He can't say with 100% confidence that his feelings for you haven't at all been influenced by the fact you're the only one here with him. Would he have fallen for anyone given these circumstances? Derek isn't sure.

You seem to notice his wavering resolve, because you sigh and gently move him from between your legs.

"Where are you going?" He chokes back a sob, sitting up as you slide off the bed.

"Gonna make dinner."

You turn and leave without another word. When the door clicks shut, Derek just flops back down on the bed, letting the despair take him.

Hey, maybe he'd cry out that gallon of saltwater he swallowed.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Author's note: Sorry for the wait on this chapter... I went a little off-track and wrote some smut about being Mike Schmidt's dentist. Oops.

Anyways, I hope this chapter is as angsty as I intended. I'm trying here. I'm always open to constructive criticism, or feedback of any kind, really. Feel free to put an anonymous message in my inbox, or leave a comment. Is there anything I've written that made you cringe? Are there slow parts that you skim over? Are there any words that you've noticed I use too frequently?

Literally any feedback is welcome, just be respectful about it. Thanks!! <3

[saturdaynightghostclub]

Donnie MacClain, Wizard of Time

Summer in Chicago is a complete beast. A sprawling, sweating, heaving beast that sits on your chest and laughs if you so much as try to breathe. Really, the air is so thick you swear to god you could cut it with a knife. Why does anyone live here?

Such are your thoughts as you trudge home from the grocery store, where you foolishly thought it would be a good idea to walk at the peak of this July afternoon. Okay, so maybe it was less of a “choice” and more of a “completely preventable car malfunction” that led you here, but whatever. Next time you let your gas tank fall below empty, you’ll remember this—the unbearable heat, the humidity—I mean, god, you look like you could give Axl Rose a run for his money. Are there really women whose hair stays perfectly styled in this kind of weather? If there are, you’d like to meet them. To congratulate them or take them down in a fist fight, you haven’t decided.

Your backpack, filled to the brim with cold beer and produce, provides a little relief against your flushed skin as you approach your apartment building. You shudder at the prospect of climbing the five flights of stairs to your place; the landlord has been dragging his feet about fixing the elevator for six months, and while it wasn’t so bad in the spring, the old building’s lack of airflow makes it damn near unbearable any time the temperature outside reaches above 80°. So you sit. Just for a minute, on the bottom step. Just until that feverish misery fades. Donnie will be home by now, singing in the shower after photographing the Cubs’ day game against the Brewers. Probably Breakfast at Tiffany’s, if you had to guess; he heard it on the radio three weeks ago and has proceeded to butcher the lyrics any time the opportunity has presented itself since. You think he does it just to see you scrunch up your nose and pretend to be annoyed. And who are you to deny him that simple pleasure? You stand, too stiff for your twenty-odd years, and begin the steep climb up to the apartment you share.

Approaching your door, you notice that the air is noticeably lacking a certain tone-deaf performance. Maybe you’ve beat him home, you think briefly, turning your key in the lock with what feels like the last of your strength. You really need to be better about putting gas in your car. You stumble over something—a dirty white sneaker, men’s size 11.5–before you’re able to set down your groceries. Donnie’s not exactly a neat freak, but he’s usually kind enough not to leave a trail of destruction in his wake. You look around as you begin putting your dinner ingredients in order; he’s not in the main living space, and you don’t hear the shower running. So what, he was just raptured out of his shoes? You sigh in exasperation, knowing your annoyance will evaporate as soon as he locks those big brown eyes on you.

Six pack in the fridge, ice cream in the freezer (you couldn’t resist), bread on the counter, boyfriend nowhere to be seen. You hum softly to yourself—Breakfast at Tiffany’s, what else?—and begin chopping vegetables for a salad, accompanied only by the geriatric whirr of the box fan Donnie haphazardly installed in your living room window. It’s held to the windowsill with bungee cords, which gives you heart palpitations if you think about it for too long; you can practically hear Donnie placating you, relax, baby, your man’s a pro, and you smile to yourself in spite of the spiking anxiety in your chest. You’ve been threatening to call his father roughly once a week to fix it, but you both know you won’t. Really, the thing could come down any day now.

Lost in thought, you hardly register Donnie’s footsteps behind you. If it wasn’t for that one creaky floorboard—it’s bent up on one end and prone to tripping unsuspecting guests—you might not have heard him at all.

“Did you even untie those shoes before you kicked them into the doorway?” You ask without turning, a smile in your voice. In response, Donnie slides one arm around your waist, his chest rising and falling against your back. His free hand lifts your hair from the back of your neck, exposing your skin for him to press his lips against. You breathe in, reveling in the scent of his skin. Heat, sunscreen, and the aftershave he insists on buying despite the fact that he can’t grow a beard. You let one hand wander behind you, behind him, into his hair as he lowers his forehead onto your shoulder. He exhales, breath shuddering ever so slightly, and pulls you closer against him.

“Hi, angel,” he murmurs into your skin. His voice is exhausted. Disregarding the fact that he didn’t answer your question, you dislodge yourself gently from his arms to turn and face him. Donnie’s smiling, but without his usual energy the effect is more unnerving than anything. You place your hands on his face, raising an eyebrow as if to ask what’s wrong. Like a magnet, the boy has re-attached himself to you, hands sliding from your hips to your back. He shakes his head, his hair brushing your face gently as he lowers his gaze to yours. “I’m alright,” he says, “long day. I missed you.”

“It’s been, like, six hours,” you tease, smiling up at him so that your lips nearly touch.

“Five and a half,” he says, “just complete agony. How in god’s name did we do this before we lived together?”

A light breeze pours through the open window then, and you gasp at the fleeting relief it provides you. “I don’t know,” you reply before kissing him sweetly on the lips, “it must have been harder than I remember.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, pulling you into a bear hug, “you were worth it, though.”

“Cornball.”

“You chose this.”

“You’ve got me there.”

You stand like that for a moment longer, letting the heat of his body envelop you until you can’t take it anymore. When you pull away, you think for a split second that you know exactly what Donnie will look like in forty years, when his smile lines have deepened and his hair has gone gray. You know with absolute certainty that he’ll always hold you like this, this tightly, age and frailty be damned. It makes your heart ache, and you remind yourself that neither of you is even thirty. It’s hard not to resent the job he loves so much, the one that turns him into a little kid again, for keeping him from you for days at a time. But then, there’s that love. You can’t begrudge him that love, not when he bounds through the door after a week away and takes you in his arms so tightly you think you might pass out, not when he slides into your bed in the little hours with whispered apologies and feather-light kisses, and certainly not now, when his exhaustion renders him all but speechless and his soft eyes bore into yours with an expression that makes you seasick.

“Donnie, I love you,” you say suddenly. You say it often, with varying degrees of intensity, but you’ve seldom felt so utterly compelled to make your feelings known as you do now, in your kitchen, over the drone of the box fan.

“I know, baby,” he grins—there it is—“I love you too.”

Good, you think, now he knows. Now I can chop vegetables in peace. You nod toward the kitchen counter, indicating for Donnie to sit at one of your thrifted bar stools while you cook. He shakes his head, still grinning. You think one of your boyfriend’s greatest pleasures in life might be getting in your way when you’re trying to cook. Second only to cooking meals himself, which is somehow an even more chaotic affair. Somehow his chaos brings you comfort, though, so you shrug and say “Suit yourself. Stay away from my knife, though.”

Sometimes you get vertigo when you look at Donnie. It’s hard to believe you’ve only been together two years; he has a way of bending time to his will. Each time he takes your sleeve between his fingers, kisses you goodbye, rests his head on your shoulder, you’re two years younger and lit up with butterflies. Then, in the next moment, he’s pulling you into his chest in the dark and you know instinctively that his soul and yours have been in conversation for a long, long time. Now, standing beside him with your hip pressed against his, you’re exactly as you are: young and dumb and in love.

[rowarn]

HAJAHHEHWHVW ITS ME THE LETTER PERSON AGAIN HERE TO TRY AND ACTUALLY FIX IT

Maybe one day he opens the letter. Maybe a few years down the road when readers letter writing gets more and more sparse. Maybe Simon gets drunk on readers birthday, he hip checks his table and the letter falls out. Maybe he has a moment of weakness, wanting, needing any sort of physical reminder of reader even if it's just a piece of paper.

Despite his drunken clumsiness he opens it with the same delicacy he always had when he was with reader. He reads the letter so slowly. Digesting every word, committing the words to memory, carving them into his heart.

Maybe he passes out shortly after reading the letter. When he wakes in the morning, back aching and head throbbing. First thing he can remember is the letter. He scrambles, looking for the letter worried he might have ruined it, but it was exactly where he left it. Still pristine and laying right next to him. He reads it over and over, unsure of how to feel. He feels sick to his stomach. He feels relieved. He feels like running to reader. He feels like leaving the country.

Maybe he ignores the migrain settling in his skull and haphazardly rushes out of his room on the base to the mail room. Not even caring about the 'employees only' sign on the door as he pushes through, looking for the area where they keep unclaimed letters.

He finds a whole box, filled to the brim, all addressed to him. Hungrily, he reads through them. He pieces readers life together, filling in the blanks of their life. He notices that the dates between the letters have been getting longer and longer, the last one being sent almost a year ago now.

He's basically panicking now. Immediately his mind jumps to the worst, that reader attempted again and it was all his fault again. He vividly remembers that night he found reader.

It was so fresh, and he felt like throwing up again at the thought. So he does the only thing he can think of, rushing to readers flat.

Maybe by the time he gets there he's sweating, he's panting like he's never even breathed air before, he's shaking and on the verge of some sort of breakdown. He hesitates in front of the door unsure of whether to knock or barge in. He knocks, almost breaking the door off the hinges as he does so. And he doesn't stop until reader answers the door.

AGGGHHH I FEEL LIKE THIS IS TOO LONG BUT I WANNA KNOW WHAT YOU THINK POOKIE❤️❤️

MWAH MWAH MWAH

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I NEED TO KISS HIM AO BADLY

[hockeynoses]

rain on me (R/oy x Jam/ie)

Summary: Jamie is sick. He and Roy are cuddled up in bed, and Jamie can't really help himself and accidentally sneezes all over Roy's shirt.

Warnings: Mess! Especially towards the end. 1.3k.

-

Jamie has managed to catch himself a doozy of a cold, and Roy’s sitting in bed with him, keeping him company. They’re using their bedroom tv that’s usually hidden in a cabinet designed specifically to hide the garish monstrosity, and Roy only lets them use it for very special occasions. He does not want to become that couple that watches the telly in bed every night, thanks very much.

Jamie begs for them to watch some trashy reality show that Roy only knows about against his will. Roy reluctantly agrees. He’s quickly learning that he’s unable to deny Jamie anything when he’s this sick. Red-rimmed puppy dog eyes and a cute, pink, swollen nose will be his downfall.

They start watching sitting up in bed – Jamie with the hope that the upright position will help drain his sinuses, and Roy trying and failing to focus on his book. Jamie rests his head on Roy’s shoulder, only disrupted when he has to twist away every time a sneeze sneaks up on him. Roy has been trying to get him to be better about covering, but Jamie’s just too out of it, and too much of a spoiled mama’s boy for a 100% success rate.

After the first episode, they find themselves horizontal, snug under the covers. Roy’s arm is wrapped around Jamie’s shoulders and Jamie is latched onto his side, practically on top of him. His head rests on Roy’s shoulder. Roy catches Jamie’s eyes closing, his breath slowing as he fully relaxes into the embrace.

“Are you even watching anymore?” Roy asks in a low rumble.

“Yeah, mbate,” Jamie murmurs, and Roy can feel his warm breath through his shirt. “Jusdt leave it on. I like the sound.” He nuzzles further into Roy’s chest, rubbing his squishy, damp nose against the fabric in an attempt to quell an itch.

“Oi! You get snot on my shirt and I’ll make you run extra laps once you’re better.”

“I didn’t!” Jamie argues in a tone that Roy is well familiar with by now. Responding with nothing but a low growl, Roy lets it go.

The minutes pass in a drowsy haze. The rich girls on the screen are arguing about who got invited to what party in the background. Jamie gives a low moan of discomfort and slings a leg around Roy, wrapping him up tighter in his arms. Roy threads a hand through his hair, from the brown roots to the walnut-mist tips. His fingers brush Jamie’s forehead in a sly attempt to gauge his temperature - still too warm for his liking.

Jamie presses into the contact, always desperate for it, and gives a sleepy snuffle and a satisfied hum. His nose twitches, scrunching up, and Roy thinks, momentarily, that he looks like a cute little bunny, before realizing –

“heh…hih’AESSHHH’ih!” Jamie turns into his chest on instinct, spraying Roy’s black t-shirt with a warm, wet sneeze. The material that was in the line of fire turns an even darker shade of black.

“Jamie!”

“S-Sorreh- ehh… heh’ITTSHH’IEW!” This one is more of a glancing blow, wrenching through Jamie and misting Roy’s chest down to his stomach.

“Fuck!” Roy curses, then feels a little guilty as Jamie sits up, grasping for the tissue box he’d left on the bed behind him while his other hand covers the mess on his face.

“Shiiii-ihh- ih’TTSSHH!” A thick-sounding burst that adds to the mess in his hand. Locating the tissues, he pulls out one-two-three of them and buries his face in the bundle. The sound of his long, bubbling noseblow fills the room, until he’s interrupted mid-blow by a harsh, “huh’GGSSHH’IUE!” that fills the tissue to the brim.

He groans into the soiled cotton, finally looking over at Roy to assess the damage. Roy plucks at his shirt and knits his bushy eyebrows together.

“You’re on laundry duty for a week for that.”

Jamie tries his best puppy-dog eyes; he doesn’t have to put too much work into looking pathetic. “I can’t helb it, Roy! I’b sick!” As though any further proof is needed, he barely has time to yank a fresh kleenex from the box before a muffled, congested, “nngk’GSSHT!” gushes out of him.

Roy pins him with a flat, unamused look.

“I said I was sorreh!” Jamie pouts, looking like Rudolph with his chapped, damp nose. “Cadn we still cuddle? It was helbin’ me sleeb.”

“I’m not your own personal human tissue, Jamie.” Roy is determined to put up a protest, but he already knows he’s fighting a losing battle.

“If I don’t get good sleeb, how cadn I get- heh…eh’ERRSSSHSH’IEW! Ugh. How cadn I gedt bedder?”  He punctuates his question with a truly awful-sounding noseblow, filling the tissue with all the sludge that had been packed in his sinuses.

Roy growls again, rolling his eyes. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.” Jamie brightens as Roy lays back down. “Just try not to sneeze on me again.” Jamie looks at him like he’s just asked him to swim to China. It’s not gonna happen.

“Oh! I have an idea.” Looking pleased with himself, Jamie plucks a tissue from the box and delicately lays it flat across Roy’s pec. Roy arches a dark brow at him. Several more tissues follow, until Roy’s chest and shoulder are covered in a couple layers of thin, white cotton.

“There!” Jamie says proudly, admiring his handywork. His eyes flutter closed before he curls into his elbow with a chesty, “huh’KIISSHH’ah!” then comes back up, blinking and dazed.

“You’re such a muppet.” Roy’s voice is warm with reluctant affection.

“I’m bein’ considerate.” Jamie wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Those’ll protect your precious shirt. You kdnow, the onde you have thirty other versions of?”

“And yet somehow, they keep getting covered in the bodily fluids of a certain star striker.”

“You love idt,” Jamie says as he settles his head back down on Roy’s shoulder. Roy’s answering hum buzzes through him as Jamie wraps his limbs around him again. Strong fingers card through Jamie’s hair, light skritches that have him melting into the other man.

“Thaggs, babe.” Jamie gives him a squeeze.

“Mmhmm.” Roy brushes a kiss to the top of Jamie’s head.

The drone of the tv continues in the background, time passing hazy and slow. Jamie is almost lulled back to sleep when an itchy tingle springs to life in the back of his nose. His breath is uneven and he sucks in a sharp gasp - the only warning before he unleashes a dense shower of a sneeze across Roy’s torso. “hih’AEESSHHHUH!” The contents of which dapple the thin barrier of Kleenex.

Roy looks down. “The things I do for love,” he quips with a sigh.

Head swimming, Jamie can’t manage a response before gearing up for what’s sure to be a relentless fit. His chest expands against Roy as his breath hitches, muscles tensing as he’s racked with a full-bodied triple - “ehh…heh…Heh’GKSSHHTT!  iihhh…hih’IIISSHHHuu!  Gsh’HT’CCHHuh!” The clearing barrage leaves a sheer gloss of mess on his cupid’s bow. He hazily looks down and sees the tissues in front of him darkened with liquid, well on their way to being soaked through.

“I think we might need to-” Roy’s protests are interrupted when Jamie curls into him, possessed by another bout of punishing sneezes. He rolls forward, angling himself more on top of Roy, and buries his face into the thin layer of tissue coating Roy’s chest.

Roy, not knowing what else to do, holds Jamie through it with a strong hand pressed to his back.

“Hiiiih-ZZSSHHESSH!” Jamie’s frame shakes with it. “uh…huh-gkTSSHHuh!” The viscous mess of them starts to seep through Roy’s shirt, heating his skin. “kx’GSSHT!” Jamie groans, completely at the mercy of his own body.

He lifts his head, tendrils of mess tethering them together. Flushed and bleary-eyed, he says, “Shidt, I- iihhh…Hih’GSSHUH’IUE!”  The strength of it forces the hot stickiness straight through to Roy’s skin.

A whine scrapes from Jamie’s throat as he sinks back into Roy, exhausted.

“It’s okay, love, just relax,” Roy says, resigning himself to a soaked shirt and a long night.

[ladyfogg]

We Live for Love - Part 1

We Live for Love – Part 1

Fic Summary: Eddie is recovering in the hospital where you’re volunteering. The whole town may have shunned him but you refuse to do the same. Masterpost. 

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Female Reader

Warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Language, Season Finale Spoilers

Fic Song: We Live for Love by Pat Benatar. Full fic playlist on Spotify.

A/N: Alright, so I had the idea, and because I can’t seem to help myself I started writing. This is definitely a fix-it fic because our boy deserved so much better! I’m not sure how many parts this is going to be. Probably somewhere around three or so. This fic is eventually going to have smut which is why it’s 18+. Minors DNI!

You never thought you would actually see an apocalypse up close.

At least, that’s what you feel happened. One minute you’re closing up the shop for the night and the next large flaming red cracks are splitting the road apart and everything is shaking like crazy. By the time it’s done, everything around you is in ruins.

You escape relatively unscathed. The same cannot be said for the rest of Hawkins. You aren’t even supposed to be there. Your plan was to go to the local community college for a year before moving on to a bigger university.

Yeah, that never happened.

School isn’t your thing. Maybe it had been when you were younger but it definitely isn’t now and you have no idea what you want to do with your life. You gave up after a year and found your way back home. You got a job at the town bookstore and spent the year working, reading, and generally having more fun than you’ve ever had in your entire life. It’s like, as soon as the weight of expectations was lifted, you were finally able to breathe.

And then the world ended.

You don’t have too many skills that can be useful. You choose to volunteer at the hospital since it was the busiest and full to the brim with victims. With so many people missing or presumed dead, they need all the help they can get. Occasionally, you help orderlies stock rooms or change linens, but mostly you try to help the patients pass the time.

Today is no exception. You get there a little later than you anticipate. The roads that aren’t torn up are filled with people leaving or emergency vehicles responding. You’ve taken to walking because it’s the quickest way to get around. When you arrive, you put your bag down behind the nurse’s station.

“Any new rooms added to the list?” you ask, pulling your book cart out where it was jammed into the corner, kept out of the way.

The nurse puts a slip of paper in your hand with a list of rooms. Most of the hospital is being run by generators so anything non-essential, like TV, isn’t available in patient rooms. You volunteered to pass books out to those reading to loved ones or people who are stuck recovering. It’s not much but it’s what you can offer. The bookstore and your little apartment above it barely survived the catastrophe. Your landlord and manager didn’t which left the store to you. At least, you assume as much. No one cares enough right now to argue.

Every morning you gather a bundle of books and deliver them throughout the hospital to lend out. You’ve also donated several boxes to the school which is now a shelter.

You scan the list in your hand and notice it skips over a room number. “Hey, what about room twenty?”

“You don’t need to go in there.”

“Why not?”

“That’s where Eddie Munson is.”

Shit. Eddie is here?

You knew Eddie from school and were in the same year until you graduated and he was held back. You even spoke to him on occasion but that was as far as it went. He had his Hellfire club and, though you’d been interested in Dungeons and Dragons, the fact that it was all guys didn’t exactly make you feel comfortable enough to give it a try. At least not while in high school. You played a bit in college and even stocked a section of the bookstore with D&D stuff. Before the stupid Satanic Panic set in and you had to take it all down.

“Why shouldn’t I go in? Is he in bad shape?”

The nurse makes a face. “You know what they say about him right?”

“That he’s innocent,” you remind her. “Remember, the Sinclair kids said that Jason Carver was behind everything. He was even seen buying weapons and ammo. They found a stash in his car. He knew the victims. It all fits.”

“Well, yes, that’s what they say,” the nurse says. “But, that Munson kid…”

“Didn’t do anything wrong.”

The nurse doesn’t look convinced. “If you want to go in there, be my guest.”

You add Eddie’s room to your list, more than a little annoyed at the nurse. People like her remind you why you wanted to get out of Hawkins in the first place. You make your rounds, checking in with patients you’ve come to know and introducing yourself to new ones.

Lucas Sinclair is still by Max Mayfield’s bedside. He’s reading from the book you brought him yesterday, so rather than interrupt, you leave two more on the table next to him. He gives you a grateful smile and you move on.

You don’t know why you save Eddie’s room for last.

Maybe because you’re not sure how your presence will be received. Maybe you’re a little intimidated. Or maybe because you still harbor a very slight crush on him. That last part surprises you. You aren’t expecting the feelings to come rushing back and they had the second that nurse said his name. It’s been two years. You thought you were over your feelings but apparently not.

You give yourself a pep talk, tell yourself to get it together because you doubt he remembers you. You shared a couple of classes once upon a time. It’s then that you realize it’s been about five minutes and you’re starting to get funny looks standing there in the hallway.

Taking a deep breath, you push your cart to the half-closed door and knock.

“Come in.”

You push the door open with your cart.

“Henderson, seriously, I appreciate it but you don’t have to come to see me every…” Eddie turns to look at you and his smile fades a little. “…day.”

“Hey, Eddie.”

He says your name and it’s so soft, so tender, it takes your breath away. He clearly remembers you. And if the way his eyes are taking you in, your presence is greatly appreciated. You stare into his eyes, seeing a flood of emotion. You’re not exactly sure which emotions because you’re too busy taking him in as well.

He looks good. Well, as good as someone in the hospital who’s covered in bandages can look. He’s wearing a hospital gown but you can see his arms are wrapped in gauze and so is his forehead. Other than that, and some bruising on his face, he’s relatively intact.

“Hey! Um…wh-what are you, um, doing here?” He adjusts himself against the head of the bed and folds his arms, trying to appear nonchalant and chill.

“Volunteering,” you say, motioning to the books. “Thought you could use some company. Mind if I stay?”

“Yeah, I mean, no, no I don’t mind. Yes, please stay.” It’s cute to see him flustered and babbling. You’ve never seen him that way before. “I didn’t think you were still around.”

“I wasn’t. Not for a year or so but I’ve been back for a while now.”

“Cool, cool,” Eddie nods as if you’ve said the most interesting thing in the world. “What have you been up to?”

“You mean before the apocalypse?”

He grins. That wide goofy grin that is somehow more adorable than you remember. “Yeah, before that.”

“Not much. I work at that little bookstore on East Street. Well, I guess I own it now.” Your hands fidget on the handle of the cart. Your heart is racing and you have no idea how to get it to stop. You think for a second before taking the empty chair in the corner of the room and dragging it over next to his bed. You sit down. “What about you? You seem like you’re doing well for a murdering Satanic cult leader.”

He rolls his eyes. “So you heard about all that?”

“Oh yeah.”

He gives you a look out of the corner of his eye. “And yet you’re still talking to me.”

“Even before Jason Carver was found out I knew you didn’t do it,” you say, waving your hand dismissively. “Never believed the police for a second.”

“Why not?”

You study him as he stares at you with those big eyes and your heart melts even more. “It just…didn’t seem like you,” you tell him. “Besides, the whole thing with D&D being satanic is just bullshit. I’ve played and I never once worshiped Satan.”

“Then you must not have played it right.”

You know he’s joking. He can’t keep himself from grinning when he says it and it makes you laugh. “Maybe not. I was actually thinking of doing D&D nights at the bookstore once things calm down a little. You know, give some people an outlet to deal with all this.”

“Count me in.”

He says it without hesitation, without even a second thought. The conversations between you had been simple in school but you don’t remember them being this easy. It’s like no time has passed at all. Like you’re talking to an old close friend.

“I actually have a confession to make,” you say. “I really wanted to join Hellfire when I was in school.”

Just when you think his eyes can’t get wider, he gives you a wide-eyed stare. “Come on, you’re messing with me!” he says.

“Nope, I swear, it’s true.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“You and your buddies didn’t exactly seem open to a chick joining.”

“I would have totally let you join!”

You laugh again. “Oh, really? You would have let a newbie just roll a new character and stumble her way through a game.”

“Of course!” He gives you a lopsided grin. “I would have even offered private tutoring after.”

Your face grows warm. As does the rest of you. This is not how you anticipated this talk to go. In fact, he’s a hell of a lot more upbeat than you would guess he would be. Never in a million years did you think he would be so happy to see you. Or would be so flirty. Was he always this flirty? Well, yeah now that you think about it, he was. But you always assumed that’s just the way he was. Maybe you were wrong.  

“So, what happened?” you ask, clearing your throat and trying to think of anything other than how much you want to lay a kiss on that adorable smile of his. You motion to his injuries, which he glances down at.

“Oh, you know, earthquake stuff.”

He doesn’t elaborate and you get the sense that he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t matter. He’s here and seems in relatively good spirits. Definitely more upbeat than he probably has any right to be feeling. You wouldn’t be smiling if you had to deal with the whole town thinking you did something you didn’t, especially while trying to recover from what looks like serious injuries.  

“Well, not sure how long you’re stuck in here, but I have books!” You pull your cart over, remembering the whole reason you’re supposed to be there.

“Sweet! What do you have?”

You reach onto the shelf and pull out The Fellowship of the Ring. “Something tells me this is right up your alley.”

He pumps his fist excitedly before winces in pain. “Aw, shit!” he exclaims, clutching his side.

Instinctively you reach for him, your hand touching his as you lean in. “Are you okay?”

It’s like a jolt of electricity shoots from his touch. Your entire body comes alive and you’re suddenly super aware of everything about him. Those eyes, those lips, that smile, the proximity of his body. His eyes find yours and you two stare at each other in silence. You’ve never been this close to Eddie, never touched him in any way. It’s like you two are magnets, being drawn together by an invisible force.

“I’m good. Especially now that you’re here,” he says. It’s soft, barely above a whisper. His fingers link with yours and you swear your heart actually stops.

Everything around you fades and goes silent, the only sounds are your labored breathing and Eddie’s shallow breaths. Fuck. Fuck. All you need to do is lean in. His lips are RIGHT THERE. You feel yourself leaning forward before your brain can second guess. Eddie moves too, gently caressing your chin with his thumb…

“Hey, Eddie! I brought you some comics!”

The door suddenly bangs open and you jump back with a start. Eddie does too, wincing again and swearing under his breath as he grips his bandaged torso. You turn your head to see a young kid standing there, arms full of comics. Well, kid isn’t exactly the right word. He’s definitely younger than you and Eddie by a couple of years but probably is around the age of a freshman. He doesn’t notice you until he looks up from the pile of comics in his arms. Only then does his mouth falls open.

“Oh…sorry,” he says, looking between the two of you.

“No worries, I should probably get going anyway.”

You’re chickening out. Yup, that’s exactly what you’re going to do. The air has been sucked out of the room, your heart is racing, and your head is spinning. Eddie stares as you get to your feet and grab your cart. You motion to the book which lays forgotten next to him on the bed where he dropped it.

“Enjoy.”

Before you can move, he reaches out to gently grab your wrist. “Are you coming back tomorrow?” he asks.

Fuck, those big puppy dog eyes. That hopeful look. How can you say no? It’s not like you were going to anyway. “First thing in the morning,” you say. “See ya, Munson.”

You push your cart past the kid who is mostly still standing in the door and has to jump out of the way to let you go. Once outside the room, you can breathe a little better but your heart is still racing. It’s like your entire body is doused in flames and nothing is going to put them out. You suck in a lung full of air, leaning against the wall for support.

Where the fuck did that come from?! Okay, you know where it came from on your end but, fuck, dude. Almost kissing Eddie Munson was not on the list of things you assumed would happen today. Part of you is supremely pissed you were interrupted. That kiss is years in the making, alright. You’ve been fantasizing about it longer than you can remember.

Apparently, you’re not the only one pissed. From inside the room, you hear Eddie’s voice raise several octaves.  

“God damn it, Henderson! You have the worst timing!”

[itsonlydana]

"sleeping in// getting thrown out of bed" ➷ BdoubleO100

➛ pairing: c!bdubs x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

➛ idea: getting to enjoy a long, slow morning in bed with Bdubs is something very rare and you pressure every minute of it- until the two roommates inhabiting the monolith decide to end your cuddle session

➛ word count: 2,4k

➛ tags/warnings: none, pure fluff, + Etho & Ren

➛ an: after the new hermitcraft episode from bdubs I couldn't get this idea out of my head and I had to write it! I have no idea if I got his character correct since it's my first time writing him so I would love some feedback!

important links: rules + masterlist

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Mornings and getting up were a touchy subject in your relationship with Bdubs. Especially in the beginning, you could hardly spend a night together without starting the morning with moans and complaints about the early hours, because while you loved to stay between the sheets and start the day slowly at noon, your partner was quite different. Even before the sun stretched its warm rays through the windows of the monolith, Bdubs was up and out, preferring to stand in the still dew-covered grass as early as possible and continue his work on his latest project. 

It was hard for the builder to get used to a new routine, he was used to being able to plan his own day and not having to follow someone else's schedule, but now not only was he sleeping in his bed, but he was sharing it with you. After you got together, you were hesitant to go along with your now partner's desire to move in with him, but you knew his sleeping habits - the whole server knew how serious Bdubs was about going to bed early and getting up even earlier. The first sleepover wasn't even planned as such, the strenuous work in the community and an adventure with Gem, Impulse and Perl in the depths of the earth had taken a lot out of you and your energy, it was far too hard to fight your worries about sleeping in a bed with Bdubs when it was oh so tempting to let him pull you up to his bedroom and fall onto the mattress. That night, snuggled together with Bdubs face pressed into the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped around you, had decided it for both of you and the very next morning you had moved in with your shulker boxes packed to the brims. 

You had never looked back. 

It was the chirping of birds right at the window what slowly pulled you out of your dreams, the cheerful especially loud singing. With a deep breath you filled lungs and nose with fresh morning air and as your nose was pressed against your partner's temple, also with the familiar smell of moss, birch trees and all that was Bdubs. The sheets rustled as you turned your body slightly to get closer to the warm body again, still deep in sleep. 

Your bed wasn't exactly big, even if you might expect it to be from a man obsessed with sound sleep, like Bdubs. It barely fit in a window alcove on the top floor of the monolith, a small bed with a soft gray blanket that you pulled higher. Sleeping together as a couple in this bed was also only a good idea if you liked each other very much, because it didn't leave much room for double solitude. 

Fortunately, you liked Bdubs very much, and he liked you too. 

So it was no wonder that you slept in the same position every night, despite the temperature: You with the cool diorite wall in your back, Bdubs snuggled up against you face-first, his head nestled under your chin, one arm draped over you and the other flat against your chest, right over your heart. The blanket was usually so high that only his brown mop of hair peeked out, and you wondered every time how he got air under it.

His breath hit your neck hot, steady and completely relaxed, his lips slightly open and placed against your pulse. Short but noticeable stubble scratched your neck, and with each of his minimal movements, like the slipping of his hand from your shoulder blades lower down your back or his bent leg resting over yours, he sighed lightly in his sleep. 

Waking up before Bdubs was almost as rare as days when you generally woke up in bed together. Lately they happened more often, because the long days of work when it came to building, as well as his always ready attitude for any task King Ren (or the roommate one floor above you) had for your partner usually exhausted Bdubs to the point where he hummed a "let's sleep in" in the evening before you scurried under the covers.

You turned your head on the pillow filled with feathers to the window, from whose board the bird, which had served as an alarm clock for you today, had disappeared. The sky was a bright blue, not a single cloud to be seen. Instead, a few shadows of Hermits were hissing around in the air, all already working, shopping, or planning nonsense-just as you knew your friends must be. 

You were lucky you weren't awakened by the Warden's bellowing in Etho's house.... Bdub's cellar... a prank of Impulse that affected all the inhabitants of the monolith, none of whom had any idea how to get rid of the terrifying creature and the walls. You clearly preferred the birdsong to the sonic screech.

"Mmm."

You felt Bdubs wake up, his previously loose arms and legs tensing as he stretched, muttering to himself, the tips of his toes peeking out from under the covers on the other side and wiggling around.

With a yawn still full of sleep and pure contentment, he lifted his head, eyes closed and lips pressed into a smile. 

"Good morning, Boo." you softly spoke the first words of the day. 

Bdubs yawned loudly again before reaching up to breathe a kiss on your cheek. "Mornin' sweetheart," he murmured in his morning voice that always made you feel warm all over. It was noticeably deeper and darker, and Bdubs knew exactly how much you loved it. For that very reason, he sat up a little so that his lips could brush over your ear. "You've been awake long?" he asked, as he spread light kisses on your forehead. 

You responded with a nod, too absorbed in your partner's caresses to formulate words. Bdubs was not shy when it came to showing his love and affection, no matter when or where you were. There were kisses on the cheek at work, walks around the neighborhood hand in hand, and then there were the moments when he suddenly burst into loud love songs that would make opera singers fall over with envy. Your favorite moments were the private endearments, like slow mornings in bed, dancing in the kitchen, or when he watched you brew potions and wrapped his arms around you from behind. He thought of new ways to show you how much he loved you every day, and that's why you fell for him harder and harder.

"What are we going to do today anyway?", Bdubs asked, laying back down with you, this time putting his arm around you.

"Do you have something planned?", you snuggled into his side, resting your head against his chest.

"King Ren would like some advice on his quest for the reclamation of the diamonds, I suspect by late afternoon." Humming, Bdubs placed his lips on yours, "I'm free until then" he murmured, and sighing, you surrendered to the kiss.

Bdubs kissed you as he did everything: with full commitment. 

He kissed you decisively and deeply, lips slightly parted, while his hands ran over your shoulders up to your chin and gently gripped your cheeks. 

You parted after a while, lips puffy and twisted into satisfied smiles as you got comfortable again.

"I'm supposed to help Etho with the Warden problem later".

Bdub's eyes looked worried at your plans for the day. "Why do you have to help Etho with the Warden? He's got himself into this one! Can't he invent some redstone nonsense to make the thing disappear back into the depths? Do you have to risk your life on that?"  

"Bdubs-"

"I'm going to have to have a word with Etho- a stern serious word, as the owner of this monolith, that this is not going to continue! If he wants a pet, let him get a cat, but a Warden? I should have had him sign a contract-"

"Bdubs!" Shouting a little louder, you interrupted Bdubs grumbling and rambling and shook your head in disbelief, "Etho didn't put the Warden in his walls for fun, that was Impulse. Besides, he already has an idea of how to get rid of the thing, I'm just an assist in luring it through the portal"

Surprisingly, Bdubs wasn't really convinced by your reassuring words, but he was also always worried about your well-being and apparently luring a Warden wasn't really what he wanted to hear. 

He pursed his lips, deep in thought as to whether it was worth discussing it with you if you were going to end up doing whatever you felt like anyway. He didn't want to tell you not to, you were your own person after all. 

All these thoughts and reflections played out on his face like a movie, the furrowed brows and fixed gaze were something you could read like a book by now. A simple book, a picture book, where you didn't even have to read much - Bdubs was easier to read than anyone you knew, although he always tried to seem mystical and unpredictable. 

That's exactly why you knew how to get him off his sulk. 

You pressed closer to him, leaning your head against his tanned, warm chest, and looked deep into his eyes. "I'll take care of myself, all right. I'm big and strong, remember?" you said.

He sighed, his chest rising and falling at the theatrical, long and audible exhale. "Do you promise?" he asked softly. There was seriousness in his gaze, deep concern because of the known information about the Warden's strength. 

"I promise," you pronounced both words seriously, then grinned again, "But sweet that you want to have a serious word with Etho for me." 

"Don't you believe me?", Bdubs pushed his shoulders back to appear broader "Am I not big and strong like you?"

As soon as you snorted, Bdubs muttered a "That's it" and flipped you over so he could lean over you. His dark hair fell down like a curtain and laughing you ran your hands through the soft short strands. Bdub's hands wandered over your sides, tickling you here and there, dancing over your skin like the strings of a guitar, and like a musician he listened to your laughter as if it were his most beautiful composition. 

The sun shone warmly through the window, falling on you and making Bdub's dark eyes shine. The sheets rustled under your squirming, attempts to escape his tickling, and your laughter echoed loud and free in the silence of the monolith, because the morning is yours and yours alone.

Until a deafening crash drowned it all out. The walls seemed to vibrate under the all-silencing sound and a flower pot fell from a windowsill somewhere and shattered into thousands of shards outside. 

Immediately you and Bdubs had jumped up, he in front of you with his chest lowering and heaving heavily, you behind, your hands clasped with his. 

"What was that?" you whispered, but Bdubs couldn't give you an answer.

It wasn't a second before footsteps were heard. Loud and rumbling, they came running up the stairs of the tower, until suddenly Etho was standing in your bedroom. His white hair was tied in a long braid and he looked from Bdubs to you and back to Bdubs. 

"Oh man, put some clothes on!" he exclaimed, which jolted Bdubs out of his state of shock.

"That's outrageous!", Bdubs started to rant "You, YOU"- he took a few steps towards the intruder and pressed his index finger against the green vest he was wearing "You're just a roomie in my basement! You have no rights to my clothes, how and if I wear them, because only I have that"

Etho's gaze shifted to you, still behind Bdubs but noticeably more relaxed, and you shrugged. 

"Can you tell me what that horrendous crash? I bet it was your fault, wasn't it you troublemaker?", Bdubs continued to grumble, and he could have talked for ages if you hadn't put your hands on his back and stepped up beside him.

"Let the man explain himself.", Etho was already smiling gratefully, then you became more serious again, "Because I'd also like to know what just swept one of my flowers off the board"

"Well, I guess the Warden has spent long enough behind the wall and I believe he wants to scout the area very soon. If you still want to help we should get going now" the usually calm man sputtered out and already at his statement you had reached for your armor that was lying on the floor and were about to slip into the breastplate when Bdub's arms wrapped around you.

"Please take care of yourself, okay?"

"Of course" Encouragingly you smiled at him and turned so he could tie the cords on the sides of the breastplate. Nimbly, his hands work the ties into a tight knot that secured the armor and kept it from slipping off.

As if the sudden chaos wasn't enough, a voice sounded from outside:

"Didn't we say we were cleaning up the server? What is this garbage of broken flowerpot? BDUBS? ARE YOU THERE?" you heard King Ren and now it was Bdubs who was hastily grabbing his things. 

Hectically, he threw on the green moss sweater that had been hanging on the bedpost until now and snatched his Elytra from the small closet next to the stairs. 

It was almost ironic how quickly your quiet two-on-two morning had turned. A moment you sometimes longed for for days, gone again within minutes and yet not forgotten.

In haste and practiced handles, you were ready for the adventures of the day, through which you would fight with the memories of gentle kisses and togetherness, to be together again as soon as possible. 

Before saying goodbye, Bdubs, now fully dressed in shiny shoes, his familiar sweater and elytra, and a bag full of rockets, pulled you into a heartfelt final kiss. "See you tonight. I love you," he murmured, for as much as he showed his affection in public, those words, that promise, was just for you. 

"I love you too," you whispered back and already you were following Etho down the stairs, two steps at a time and all you could hear was the hiss of the rockets. 

You could hardly wait for the evening.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Nine - Warmth

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Fem!Reader, (3rd Person)

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad's boss's son. He was the creep that stole girls' underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it's not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn't sleep with him, right? ...right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love

A/N: Hope you enjoy this last stop in Fluffville before we make a hard transfer onto the angst train xD

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[EXCERPT]

She didn’t always live in Tokyo. The first place her family lived in was actually a rural little beach town in the Tottori Prefecture. Although, to be honest, even town was a generous word for it. It was a tiny port village where squid fishermen outnumbered non-squid fishermen by about two to one. A quiet place where everyone knew everyone and there were only two schools — a combined elementary and middle school and a high school.

As far as the town itself went, she loved growing up there. Her dad and his siblings had been born there, and their parents before them, and so on. Family was everywhere and barbecues were a weekly occurrence. She loved running up and down the beach to her grandpa’s general store every day — the flagship of a small but successful chain that had even started to spread into Shimane Prefecture.

She loved catching stag beetles and spending the cold days making little terrariums in their mason jars. She loved playing hard in the sun and swimming in the ocean until dark. There was a lot about this little town that she loved and she looked forward to showing her soon-to-arrive baby brother all of it.

But of course, there was a lot that she didn’t love as well.

“Expelled?! She couldn’t have been expelled! Are you sure they said the word ‘expelled’?”

She sat in the hallway, just around the corner from the living room where her father was assembling moving boxes. And where his father was trying to stop him.

“Pretty sure, Dad.” her father answered, punctuated by the tear of packing tape.

“Well, let me go talk to the principal. I’ve got some pull in this town, maybe they’ll overlook it!” her grandfather insisted.

“She hit the principal’s son with a chair,” her father sighed, “They aren’t going to overlook it.”

Her Grandfather went silent, definitively put in check by that information. But not checkmate. He was quick to bounce back.

“Just because she got expelled, doesn’t mean you have to move. She can go to school in the next town. Or even somewhere else in the prefecture.”

“And what about when she comes home from school? When those kids see her around town or shop in the store?” her father demanded, “This isn’t just about the expulsion. This place isn’t good for her.”

“Fine — then you move to Yonago. Or somewhere in Okayama even! I just don’t understand why you feel the need to run all the way to Tokyo!”

He yelled louder and louder, the anger and betrayal building in her grandfather’s voice with every word. She was pretty sure that she would’ve heard it even if she had been up in her room like she was supposed to, instead of hiding on the other side of the wall, eavesdropping. It was bellowing and desperate — filled to the brim with emotion. For a long moment, it seemed to even silence the cicadas outside.

“...I think the change will be good for her,” her father finally breathed, “For all of us.”

She could practically hear the tightening of her Grandfather’s fist, the cold severity of his glare as he rose to look down at his son.

“I don’t support it,” he growled, “If you go to Tokyo, you’re on your own. Don’t expect any help from me or any of your siblings.”

Her heart dropped, chest swelling with confusion and distress. What did that mean? Was she breaking up the family? It couldn’t be. Her grandfather couldn’t mean it. Her father couldn’t possibly accept it. 

And then, even louder, she could hear the sad smile in her own father’s voice as he said, “I won’t.”

“Hey.” 

She looked up from the crux of her knees, to her mother looking down at her in concern.

“You shouldn’t be listening to that.” she said, reaching a hand out to her daughter.

She stared at it, blankly. Her mother frowned.

“Are you really going to make me pick you up, right now?” she scolded, resting a hand on her belly.

She didn’t say anything, but she did stand up to take her mother’s hand.

“There we go,” her mother encouraged, reaching her fingers to prod gently at the dark bruise swelling around her cheek and brow,  “How’s your eye?”

“—s'okay.” she breathed, holding back a flinch surprisingly well. Her mother still caught it though.

“Yeah?” she lilted, sweet and leading, “That mean boy at school didn’t hit you too hard?” 

“I hit him harder.” she muttered.

Her Mother sighed, unable to decide if she should be amused or exhausted, “Yes you did, didn’t you?”

She buried her head suddenly into her mother’s swollen belly hard enough to feel her heartbeat. 

“Sweetie?”

She buried her head deeper, little hands clinging to the fabric of her dress, trying to wipe the burn away from her eyes.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” she insisted, “Does something else hurt?”

It wasn’t working.

“Is…”

She ran a hand through her daughter’s hair, coaxing.

“What is it?"

“...Is the baby never gonna see home?” she croaked, “Because of me?”

Her Mother’s brows furrowed. She knew the feeling that was currently aching in her daughter’s chest — she felt it too. The grief over the loss of a life they adored. The fear of starting somewhere new. 

The guilt of wishing she could’ve done better.

She felt it all. So strongly that she was having a hard time keeping her own eavesdropping and anxious midnight walks to a minimum. The pregnancy hormones certainly weren’t helping. This was their home, she didn’t want to lose it over something like this.

 But this wasn’t about her. This was about her daughter.

Her family.

“He will,” she assured, “He’ll see our new home.”

She looked up at her mother tearfully. A smile was returned. A genuine, comforting, contagious smile.

Her mother twirled a stray lock softly around her finger as she saw a little glimmer of hope flare in her daughter’s eyes. She knew that it wasn’t going to bookend these feelings for either of them. But it would keep them steady for the night.

“Come on,” she moved a hand to her daughter’s back, leading her down the hall, “It’s way past your bedtime.”

Continue on AO3

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[syddsatyrn]

Piece of your Action (Eddiexfemreader)

☆Pairing: - Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

☆Song: Piece of your action by Mötley Crüe

☆Warnings: Fluff, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, bullying, Characters are all 18+

Minors DNI, scram!

☆Words: 2k

Chapter 2: Looks that Kill (EddiexFemreader)

☆Summary: Moving to Hawkins wasn't easy. What do you even do for fun in this little down? So boring. Until you meet a long haired misfit in front of the video store. Maybe this place isn't so boring after all.

☆Notes: I'm baaaack. Didja miss me? I now present to you my Eddie Munson hyperfixation. I finished Strangers things and I was HOOKED. This is a series so check back for the next chapter.

“Honey, can you grab the boxes for the kitchen?” Julie shouted. Your mother is definitely putting you to work. You groan and grab the first box you see in the truck labeled “Kitchen”. The box made a loud thud as you dropped it on the floor. “Be careful! You’ll break your grandmother’s dishes!” She scolded.

“Whatever…” You scoffed. It’s not like you wanted to move here anyways. Your dad got a new job and your Aunt convinced your mom to move to Hawkins. Which is 6 hours away from your hometown. You grab another box and head back inside.

“If you want to take a break you can.” Julie says while putting away cups and plates. Before you could finish your sentence, you're already out the door with a cigarette in your mouth. “I really wish you’d quit those!” She shouts as you leave.

You take a seat on the curb and inhale the smoke, and exhale the stress. “What even is there to do in this little town?” You wondered. You pick at some of the fraying patches on your jeans absentmindedly. Taking another drag every couple of minutes. “This is totally bogus.” You say under your breath and put the cigarette out on the curb. You might as well go to your room and get situated.

You had already put up a bunch of posters. Iron Maiden, Dead Kennedy’s, Slayer, the Misfits, all your favorite bands. You take off your patched up denim jacket and toss it on the floor haphazardly. The day is almost over, you fall backwards and flop onto your bed to stare at the ceiling. “I hope this town isn't filled to the brim with country bumkin hillbillies.” You think to yourself. The grumbling noise of your stomach is enough to wake you from your thoughts.

“I brought home Chinese!” Bill says as he walks through the door carrying a couple of plastic bags with to-go containers. You spring from your bed and head downstairs, you can already smell it.

“I knew that would get you to come out of your lair.” Dad says with a grin.

“I’m hungry.” You retort and stick your tongue out. “You’re always hungry.” He jokes and bumps your shoulder. After the table was cleared, your mother handed you a plate filled with delicious take out. In a matter of seconds you're wolfing down your food like you haven't eaten in days.

“Slow down!” Your mom says with a slightly disgusted look on her face. After chugging the glass of water on the table, you apologize under your breath. “Soooo….” Julie starts and you're already rolling your eyes. “...I was thinking we could go tour some campuses next week? Maybe start putting in an application or two?” She asks with a smile.

Your parents have been hounding you to get into college. It's only been a year since you graduated high school, why rush? School was always a huge pain. Everyone makes fun of you for the way you dress or they are afraid of you. The bullying got so bad you had to change schools, and how could we forget the time you beat up the schools quarterback in the lunchroom. Somehow, you always manage to have decent grades, you just don't play nice with others.

“Mom, you know I’m taking a break from school.” You remind her before shoving more noodles into your mouth. “We’ve already had this conversation.” You say with your mouth full.

“You know your mother just wants to make sure you get a proper education.” Bill chimes in, attempting to keep this conversation a peaceful one.

“I already told you guys I’m taking a couple years before I dive back into that hell.” You retort and Bill snorts before taking another bite.

“Please don't swear at the dinner table…” Julie sighs with disappointment.

Your eyes roll so far back in your head you swear you could see your brain twitch. Your plate is finished and you stand up abruptly. “Mom, this is the third time this week you’ve brought up college, quit while you're ahead. I'm tired, I'm going to bed.” You say with what your mother calls “a tone”. You rinse your plate, set it in the sink and begin to head back upstairs.

“Y/N we are not done with this conversation…” Mom shouts

“Yes we are.” You shout back and shut your door. Julie and Bill just give each other concerned looks.

Your jeans drop to the floor and you change into some cotton shorts and a worn out Slayer band tee. Then begin digging in your backpack for a tin that used to contain mints. When you find it, you let out a sigh of relief and pop the top open. A pre-rolled joint you’ve been saving is calling your name.

After retrieving the lighter from your jeans, you slide the window open carefully, you don't want your parents to hear. You take a seat on the roof and look up at the night sky. “The stars are brighter here…” You think to yourself. The breeze was cool and the neighborhood was quiet, not a single peep. So you carefully light the joint and take a few heavy puffs.

Here you are, daydreaming again. You lay back and stare at the sky while you enjoy your reward. You were almost finished with the joint when you heard loud music in the distance. It shakes you from your thoughts and you sit up. A dark colored van speeds through your neighborhood blaring some pretty sick metal tunes.

You watch as it drives off, maybe this place isn't completely full of country folk. Suddenly, a few of the neighbors porch lights flicker on, it looks like the van woke a few people up. You quickly put the joint out and crawl back in through your window. What if someone sees you? They would most definitely tell your mom, and she hates when you hang out on the roof.

You turn off your lamp and crawl under the covers. It's time to put this day behind you and get some rest. You fall asleep wondering if you’ll see the van again. One could only hope.

Day Two in Hawkins

You wake up to the sound of knocking on your bedroom door. “Y/N, it’s time to get up! I don't want you wasting the day away in bed.” Julie is always a morning person. You groan and pull the covers over your head. Mom opens the door and greets you with a bright smile. “C’mon, you can't hibernate like a bear in the woods.”

She opened the blinds and the sun came pouring in like a wave. You let out another groan and lift the blanket just enough to see your alarm clock, it reads 12:32 PM. You throw the covers off of you irritably and get dressed. 

You pick out a pair of patched up denim shorts and pair it with another band tee. You slip on your rings and add a chain to your shorts. After you pack up your backpack, you head downstairs to put your boots on.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Mom asks from the kitchen. “I’m going into town to see what kind of ‘attractions’ Hawkins has to offer me.” you answer sarcastically. 

“Stay out of trouble, please!” She calls, but before she knew it, you were already out the door with a skateboard in hand.

You drop the skateboard on the sidewalk and effortlessly push off into the street. The wind in your face is freshening and the concrete is a nice smooth ride. You swore to yourself you’d never skate again after you biffed it on a pothole that sent you flying. “Why do you always ride that dangerous thing!” You mom always asks. You always tell her it's a cheap thrill.

You see a cluster of stores in the distance and as you get closer you realize it’s a video store, a record shop, and a small café lined up next door to each other. You step off your board and pick it up. The signs in the window are advertising a vast horror movie collection, right up your alley.

The bell chimes as you push the door open. The cashiers seem to be arguing about something.

“No, Robin, you're not listening to me.” The male cashier starts to rub his temples.

“I am listening and that movie sucks, I'm not going to sit through “Maximum Overdrive”. Don't you dare play it on the display TV.” The woman scoffs and her coworker sighs.

“Hey.” You said softly and they both gave you a startled look.

“Uh Hey! Welcome to Family Video.” He says, his name tag says “Steve”.

“You guys got horror flicks, right?” You ask with a half smile.

“Yeah! Back corner on your right!” The woman says while pointing to the other side of the store.

“Thanks…uhhh…Robin.” You reply as you look down at her name tag.

“Am I losing my mind or is she new?” Steve leans in and asks Robin. “No, you're right, I've never seen her before.” Robin whispers back.

“I dig her style though.” Steve remarks and Robin sneers. “I bet that girl could eat you alive, Harrington.” She teases, Steve rolls his eyes and returns to his task.

You pick out a few movies, Nightmare on Elm Street, Invaders from Mars, and a movie you haven't seen advertised called “Creepshow”. Satisfied with your choices, you make your way back to the front counter.

“Shhhh here she comes.” Robin whispers and elbows Steve. “Did you find what you're looking for?” She asks and you nod.

You place the videos on the counter and retrieve your wallet inside your backpack. “I’ve never seen you around here before.” Robin asks and Steve looks kind of shocked at how forward she can be.

“I moved here yesterday. I’m just getting to know the place.” You reply as Robin totals up your purchase.

“They are going to have a field day over this one.” The male employee says with a smirk.

Robin turns her head and tells him to shut up under her breath. “That’s 6 dollars even.”

You pay her in exact change and take the videos, placing them in your backpack. “I guess I’ll see you guys around then.” You say with a half smile while making your way to the exit. Robin and Steve are speechless and Robin tries to hold on to her customer service smile. But when the door shuts they bust out laughing.

“You are SO rude!” She shouts.

You place a cigarette between your lips and notice a dark van parked next to the cirb. It looks like the one you heard last night. It's old and has seen some miles, that's for sure. You attempt to light your cigarette but it seems your lighter is finally out of fluid.

“God Dammit…” You swear under your breath.

Suddenly a man outstretches his arm, lighter in hand.

“Need a light?” The mystery man asks. You turn to face him and you're taken aback by his clothes. He looks…well, he looks just like you. Black jeans, Leather jacket, patched denim vest. His long curly hair was gorgeous. Your face flushed as he lit your cigarette. You inhale and manage to say “thank you”. 

“Never seen anyone like you in Hawkins. You must be new.” He remarks.

“That's what everyone keeps telling me.” You say with a quiet giggle.

“So, what's a girl like you doing in a town like this?”

“I’m on vacation, duh.” You say sarcastically and take a drag of your cigarette. The misfit extends his arm and you shake his hand.

“I'm Eddie….Munson. Eddie Munson, at your service.” He grins and you can’t help but submit to his charm, he's pretty cute after all. You shake his hand in return, noticing the chunky, silver, rings on his fingers. 

“Y/N, It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.” You return the smile and put out your cigarette on the curb.

You both lean against the back of his van and chat a bit. You tell him about your mom pressuring you to go to college and how boring this town is.

“So tell me, what do you do for fun around here? Besides speed through neighborhoods blaring loud music at ten o’clock at night.” You tease, all you want to do is make him smile again.

“That was your street? Well, in that case, I’m not sorry.” Eddie says playfully. “I’m glad I got your attention.”

A loud car abruptly interrupted your conversation. A group of teenage boys all wearing letterman jackets in a convertible pull up next to Eddie's van.

“Hey freak! This is for yesterday!” The jock yells and tosses something at Eddie, but suddenly a cold substance smacks you in the mouth. It was a milkshake and it’s now dribbling down your face and shirt. Before you could protest or get revenge, they sped off hysterically laughing like a bunch of dumb hyenas.

“Shit, dude! I am so sorry, that was meant for me.” He says opening the back door to his van. He grabs some napkins he had laying around and hands them to you. As you are wiping off the milkshake bomb, Eddie swipes his finger across your cheek and puts it in his mouth.

“Hmm…It's chocolate this time. Last week was vanilla.” That signature smirk grows back and your face turns several shades of red. 

“Can I give you a ride home?” He asks sweetly and all you can do is nod. 

[wildheartstrings]

An allude to the one who stayed

Everybody has the kind of best friend who is as loyal as a dog, there through every crack of life and attached at the hip. You can hardly recall the age before their arrival - a sibling without blood and a lover without heartstrings. For me, that’s Ana - and I’d like to tell you about her.

Ana knows how to carry herself as gracefully as 7-pound Arctic fox; she glides invisibly down staircases and squeezes swiftly into crowded rooms. Ana’s beautiful, and soaked to the brim with an unquenchable self-hatred. Ana never speaks too loudly and it is only when she cries on her bathroom floor that the sound of her voice can fill a room. Ana wears an extra small in bottoms and tops, sometimes a double extra small depending on the brand; her fingers are thin and ghostlike and her knuckles are a cold shade of peachy pink. Ana watches Victoria’s Secret Angels runways like they are a sermon. She used to smoke up to 3 karelia slims a day, depending on her appetite, until the box was found. Ana never asks for seconds and has admirable, almost inhumane self-control. Ana is also a heinous bitch, and despite this, she is all i’ve ever wanted to be.

I know my best friend very well and to the point that her presence marks any milestone of my adolescent era. I don’t remember ever inviting her but I suppose I never told her to leave, and, after all, there is something so familiar in her presence that makes one earn for the kind of hollow smile she often wears on her porcelain face.

She's a very loyal friend.

Ana’s there when you’re blowing out the candles of your 13th birthday cake, and she's kind enough to remind you that you can only have half a slice.

Ana claps for you and smiles when you squeeze into your mother’s 2009 wedding dress, and you feel grateful to receive her approval and pride.

Ana will walk you home from the gym at 8 pm on the 25th of December. She scoffed at the clerk’s sympathetic faces and the empty, deathly quiet space lit only by a buzzing lamp.

Ana will stand in the corner as your mother slides down the wall of your room. You watch her cry, rather bitterly, hands covering her painstruck face. Ana knows this is the first time you’ve seen your mother cry in front of you and yet she’s proud. Somehow, you are too; you’re too overwhelmed with this pride to answer your mother as she asks under her breath why you’re doing this to yourself.

Day after day and week after week Ana visits in the morning and the evening. She comes along on vacations and hovers over you shoulder when you put a t-shirt on at the beach of the Mediterranean sea.

Ana says thanks and blushes when aunts and uncles ask you how you did it.

Just like any best friends, our relationship is an ebb and flow. Sometimes months later, just when you thought you’d never hear from her, you remember - and yet again she rises to her pedestal and you’re in the front row. After all, she’s the only one who’s been there when nobody else was; and on the third anniversary of your friendship, you get the heavily eerie feeling that years down the line it will be her who walks you down the aisle.

You wonder if it will be her standing in the infirmary when you give birth and whether you’ll be able to keep her away from your daughters. The thought that you won’t crushes your heart and for a moment you feel like just as much of a heinous bitch as she is.

And yet, at the end of the day, you still miss the quiet days you used to spend together, wallowing one another in a comforting , cold sorrow.

[senor-plume]

flame up the black candles

psychedelic pop is sweeping me away from my deathbed tonight while the stars shine their silver light down to me reflecting off my glasses and disappearing ever so quickly

I am all pink as I eat my doctor ordered vegetables off a broken plate with a tattered spoon and a rusty glass of water

I choke it all down now I'm in no mood for jokes tonight just stick my stereo tube into my open chest and let me breath in the wondrous sounds

this will cure me of the cancer that is growing inside of me faster than any leopard on the hunt

the harmonies the bass harmonica the cellos and who could ever forget the bassoon they all reside in my whole body now making up opera's …tragic ones with death (with humor) infidelities (with long love) and out of control pride (with a mirror)

they play for me and I am the only one calling for an encore tonight

I need more, don't you see? fill my heart up to the brim pour it into me now

let me drown in sorrow and music sadness and tunes a simple song tonight is all I am asking for now

so I'll keep listening until I get what I deserve

a happy night away from sickness and disease

this is all I ask for as the holidays come screaming into view and soon gifts will be wrapped and ribbons sliced and cut taped to boxes with horny old Santa in his sleigh with rabid reindeer foaming at the mouth as they chug a lug through the freezing iced sky as December is so very near the end

it's all over

soon, it will be over and man I got to tell you I seriously cannot wait for that day to come …or will it be night?

I'll be smiling as I drift off into the heavens to view you all from a much more fantastic perch and even better from a good distance away from all of you folks

a sick man craves his solitude a dying man would prefer his own company than some flaccid wife and his pointed headed children

Pecking at the ground like a chicken I pick up cigarette butts and light them with my matches from a diner back in `86 The Tally-Ho with its extra crispy bacon and leafy green lettuce that I adored so very much back in the day

before tumors before cracked teeth before graying head before arthritic back before pancreatitis before shaking hands before the bedroom was iced down and impossible to share with anyone

blowing the blue smoke from my whistled mouth I look up into the heavens and wonder just what the fuck happened to me

But, I throw no pity party no streamers or black balloons (I once was given a case of black candles one year for my birthday, it may have been the greatest gift I ever did receive) No party favors or silly hats on celebrating heads that shine under the moon of the late late night

I am dying faster than you My dying can beat up your dying my death can outwit yours dear and my immortality is no longer in question

Let it chew me up for all I care chew me and spit me out into the air so my soul can rise and create a little lounge space up there in the clouds

and when you are ready feel free to stop on by despite it all, you'll want to make sure that I have gone

and away I will be so grab my sweater as a memento and throw my corn muffins in the trash walk out of that refrigerator white factory room and do not look back there is nothing there you will ever want to remember

trust me on that one

[writtenbyjos]

Spellbound: A Ghostly Tale, Chapter 6

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Three hours later having been to a costume store sold out of costumes, a jewelry store far too expensive and a dress shop that only sold dress sizes, two sizes too small, a melancholy Casper, Kat and Lucy trudged into the front doors feeling defeated. That is, until Casper had an idea.

"Come on, slowpokes!" Casper flew between wall after wall, and poked his head out to meet Lucy and Kat's tired faces.

"Well, sorry we're not as fast as you are, Casper," Kat chuckled.

"Yeah, we're definitely not as good as you are at walking through walls," Lucy said.

Kat glanced behind her shoulder and laughed at Lucy's snide comment while Casper rolled his eyes.

"God, how many stair cases can one house possibly have?" Kat said, out of breath while Lucy nodded in agreement.

"Twenty-eight, not counting the basement," Casper said cheerfully.

"Peachy," Kat groaned.

"Okay, this is the last stop," Casper floated over to a large, maroon bookcase.

"Thank goodness," Lucy said, pulling her hair out of her sweaty face. Her heart was banging wildly against her ribcage, and her legs burned.

"Now, all we have to do is find the right book…" Casper squinted and ran his finger over the series of dusty books lined up on the shelf. "Aha!" He said. "Dr. Bog's Big Book of Biology! A classic." He took the book out of its place and the bookshelf slid open to reveal, much to Lucy and Kat's dismay, another large set of stairs. Lucy felt her heart sink to her toes.

"More?" She said dropping her hands to her thighs.

"You have got to be kidding me," Kat said eyeing the narrow staircase.

"Hmm," Lucy said, putting her hands on her hips, "four ghosts, cockroaches everywhere, cobwebs in every corner, and a giant cliff overlooking a ferocious ocean…yet this is the scariest thing I've yet to see." She recalled all the ghoulish sights that inhabited Whipstaff Manor she'd had the displeasure of encountering.

"Told you it was scary," Kat muttered.

"Oh, boo, hoo!" Casper laughed. "Stairs won't kill you!"

"But a heart attack might," Lucy said.

"And besides," Kat cut in, "you don't have any legs! Or a heart! So you don't have room to judge here, mister." She smiled, squinting slightly.

Casper surrendered his hands in the air.

"Uncle, uncle!" He called. Kat shook her head and proceeded up the stairs as Lucy followed behind.

The three walked up the stairs, huffing and puffing the whole way. Once they reached the top, Casper stopped them at a large door.

"I swear to god Casper," Kat said adjusting the hem of her shirt, "if that's another set of stairs you'll be dead. Twice."

"Not stairs, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at what we find," Casper smiled. He turned the knob and the door opened with a loud creak. Kat and Lucy coughed, waving away the dust that had collected over the years.

Inside was a large room filled to the brim with boxes, and old, antique furniture.

"What is all this, Casper?" Kat asked.

Lucy glanced over and saw her friend's eyes widen in curiosity.

"An old attic, long forgotten." Casper put his hands on his hips and sighed. "I don't know why I didn't think to come up here sooner. But look, look," he flew over to an old rocking horse and began to rock back and forth. "This is Jimmy! I played with him all the time."

Lucy looked around, amazed at all the boxes and junk that surrounded her.

"And this," Casper flew over to a dusty closet and pulled out an old tuxedo. "My mother made this for me, I only ever got to wear it once. I still remember the day," Casper ran his fingers across the lace and laughed. "I wore it to a church dance, and some jerk 'accidentally' spilled punch all over me! No girl in that entire rom wanted to dance with me."

"Aw, Casper," Kat smiled gently and took his hand.

"Hey, no sweat!" He shrugged it off and smiled back at Kat. "Girls back then were all boring anyway, not like you." Kat blushed and looked down at her feet.

Lucy smiled at the gentle way Casper looked at Kat.

"Any who," Casper broke the silence. "There's just a lot of memories up here."

"Yeah, right!" Kat chuckled nervously and cleared her throat. She made her way awkwardly over to a box with the label, 'Don't Touch!', scribbled crudely in dark red marker on the lid.

"Oh, I have to see this," Kat said smiling.

Casper flew over and watched over her shoulder as she pulled the box open. Lucy tilted her head sideways to better see the the writing on the box. Her long hair was inches away from touching the dusty ground. Kat pulled out a golden shield on a wooden plaque and held it up to the window's light. There was a black engraving on the front.

"In honor of Theodore McFadden, for an outstanding demonstration of his musical talents and abilities through his Operatic rendition of Romeo and Juliet." Kat frowned and felt the plaque. "And Theodore is?"

"Oh that's Uncle Fatso—er Uncle Theo…?" Casper shrugged.

"No way." She blew the dust off the plaque to reveal the dates. "The Annual Sunbury Music Festival, 1883."

Lucy raised her eyebrows. Fatso didn't strike her as the performing type, even though she had to admit he and his brothers were a bunch of drama queens.

"Uncle Fatso was really talented from what my dad told me—and he never told me that much about my uncles." Casper squinted at the writing.

"Why not?" Lucy asked.

"I dunno, I think they might've had a rough history together or something," he shrugged. Lucy thought back to her own 'rough family history', specifically the one between her grandma and mother.

"To be honest, I'm not sure if I should be impressed or scared…" Kat said.

"I'd say both is a safe bet," Caper suggested. After she placed the plaque on a wooden table, she reached back in and pulled out a metallic flask.

"Oh, that was Uncle Stretch's!" Casper pointed to it and smiled.

"Look at this engraving," Kat squinted and read aloud. "To my sweet, Vinnie Bear, with love, Charlie." Kat snorted.

Casper cringed and nodded. "Gosh, Charlie." His face softened as he rested his elbows on the table. "She was a character."

Kat half-smiled. "Who was she?"

"She lived in New York for years before she and Uncle Stretch got together. Oh boy, those two were always all over each other!" Casper stuck out his tongue and grimaced, making Kat laugh. "When they'd come to visit, back in the early days, she'd tell me stories about her adventures in women's rights campaigns." His fond smile faded. "Three months before their wedding…she went to a protest, in Manhattan. Things got out of hand," Casper's brows furrowed. "Someone shot her from behind while she was speaking." He floated sadly to the ground. "Uncle Stretch wasn't the same after that…"

"God, Casper. I'm so sorry," Lucy's eyes welled up watching the little ghost.

He tried to brighten up. "She did live a good life…I just wish she had lived it longer."

"With Vinnie Bear?" Kat smiled, trying to cheer him up.

"Yep, Uncle Vincent." He chuckled.

Lucy looked at the engraving and smiled. It warmed to her heart to think that someone could've loved Stretch in another life.

"I think it's sweet," she said quietly. "An epic love story for the ages."

Kat looked at the engraving again and shook her head. "Someone get me a grater for all this cheese." She shivered and placed it back in the box. She searched around again and pulled out a beaten up teddy bear with a faded red ribbon around his neck.

"Uncle Stinkie used to carry that around on his really bad days," Casper said. "He had crippling anxiety all his life." Lucy glanced at Casper, surprised. Anxiety? Sure he seemed a little nervous, sometimes, but she would never have guessed it was as severe as that. "So the great asshole really does have a sentimental side?" Kat broke into her thoughts. "How touching." Despite the hardness in her voice she placed the bear back in place with care.

"So, why did you bring us up here again?"

Casper jolted upwards and snapped his fingers. "That's right! Costume ideas! For the festival!"

Kat and Casper began rummaging through the other boxes and under the furniture around the room, leaving Lucy alone with the box. She picked up the bear slowly and sniffed it. It smelled like old books and very faint perfume. She knew it had been a bear well loved. It reminded her of her old rabbit that she would cling to when her grandma and mother would get into fights. She kissed its matted head softly and placed it on top of the lid in a sitting position. She joined Kat and Casper, who were now occupied with a box filled with old furs and jewelry.

"Eleanor Roosevelt." Casper said excitedly.

"Who?" Kat looked at him with a confused expression.

"You don't know who Eleanor Roosevelt is? What do they teach you kids in school these days?" He said, exasperated.

Lucy laughed to herself and shook her head. She wiped the dust off her hands on her jeans and examined another box. It was titled, 'Photos' in a fine black ink. She pulled out a large portrait of three mystery somebodies: a tall younger man holding a baby in his arms and a younger woman with dark messy hair pulled back in a bun. She wasn't looking at the baby, but at the man. Her eyebrows were thick and dark, cresting over bright, sparkling eyes. The man grinned back at her, and Lucy saw the love in both their expressions. Maybe these weren't random somebodies after all…

The man looked familiar, with layered black hair and a tall frame, pale eyes and a wicked and dashing smile. Stretch, Casper, and Charlie? Or did Charlie ever have a baby? She placed the picture back into the box and selected another of a different man making a snide face at the photographer. Lucy recognized those eyes, the way they seemed to look straight through her. She tilted it into the light. His hair was gelled back and he was wearing a suit that squeezed all the wrong places. Still, his face was cute, round and kind. She could've sworn she'd seen him before…

"Whatcha looking at, Lucy?" Casper hovered in front of Lucy with a large yellowed sheet hanging over his arm. Lucy jumped and almost dropped the portrait, catching it before it hit the floor.

"Nothing, nothing," she scrambled to put the portrait away.

"Hey, that's Uncle Stinkie!" Casper said picking it up again. "That was the day my Mom and Dad got married." He looked closer. "Mom made them all wear something nice, she said they fought her on it all the way." He chuckled.

"What was his name?" Lucy asked, feeling her face flush at the now-familiar mischievous smirk she had seen before on Stinkie's face.

"Joseph, but we all called him Uncle Joey."

An odd burning sensation in the pit of her stomach, causing her to just smile awkwardly. "Did you find a costume?" Lucy said trying to change the subject.

"Yeah!" Casper held up the sheet enthusiastically. "This way I can cover up and cut out some eyeholes."

Kat nodded in agreement. "Casper found a chest full of costume accessories on the shelf. And I found these bad boys in that closet over there," she pointed to a large leader oak chest covered in dust. "Plus all these masks!" Kat held up a long black dress and an old fashioned white evening gown and a pair or masquerade masks. "Aren't they groovy?" She said turning to Lucy.

"Yeah," she replied, still feeling odd.

"My mom made my costume almost every year, she was a wonderful seamstress. She was always making my pirate play clothes when I was little! How handy is that?" He took a plastic sword from the chest and started swinging, pretending to duel with someone.

"The dress might be a little big but I'll bet you could just find a spell make it fit…?" Kat suggested. Lucy laughed slightly.

"Or I could break out my sewing kit. I can sew, like normal." She said quietly. Kat blushed slightly.

"Oh yeah, we'll stick to that then." She lowered her arm noticing Lucy's uncomfortable demeanor. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Oh nothing, just feeling a little sick to my stomach all of the sudden is all." She put her hand to her tummy—that part was true. "Must be all this dust." She scratched her nose and rocked on her heels.

"Well come on, I know a shortcut back to the living room." Casper said.

Kat frowned and took Lucy's hand.

"Maybe we can find you something in town, just the two of us," she said smiling. Lucy nodded. Casper took an old cane and knocked it against the wall three times, causing a wall to creak open and reveal a secret passageway.

"Don't tell me you knew about this the whole time and never said anything," Kat crossed her arms defiantly.

"Not the whole time—just when we got to the third floor…oops." He smiled sheepishly.

Kat rolled her eyes. "Well, come on let's get out of here already." She motioned to her friends and disappeared into the archway.

"Aight boys," Stretch followed by his brothers flew into the night sky. "To da town centah," he said proudly.

They looked over the sleepy town of Friendship. There were no lights, no people out and about in the late hours of the night, nothing. Nothing but an old owl sitting on the gnarled branch of an oak tree.

"When the sun's away the trio comes out to play," Fatso said eyeing the large full moon.

"There—" Stretch pointed to the town center and they dove down silently, letting the wind carry them. "Dis is where the coasties are havin' this little shindig," he smirked. "They won't know what hit 'em." He smiled mischievously. "Stink, you got the bag o' goodies?" He turned to his brother.

Stinkie nodded. They slid through the brick wall around the back entrance.

"It smells like sugar cookies in here!" Stinkie snarled, holding his large nose.

"Mmm, sugar cookies," Fatso said dreamily.

"Someone get me a dead fish or somethin'!" He hissed.

"Mmm, dead fish…" Fatso rubbed his stomach.

"Hey wait a minute…" Stretch stopped Stinkie and Fatso abruptly. "Yous hear that?" He squinted his eyes and looked to the double doors. They heard footsteps coming and grinned at each other. "It's showtime boys," he said.

Timid footsteps could be heard approaching the main hall. It was the midnight shift for the 100-year old security guard, Jerry. As he slowly opened the double doors his flashlight shook in his wrinkled hands.

"Hello?" His voice was croaky and small. Perfect scaring material. "Damn, teenagers! Go find some other love shack! Not in this town center! Now scram!" He yelled, hunched over. "Hello?" He flash his flashlight around the room. The chandelier began to shake a little, making small tinkling sounds. He shown the flashlight on it quickly and the shaking ceased.

"Jerry," Fatso said cooly, sounding almost like the wind or a breeze.

"Wha—" He turned around quickly and held onto his flashlight for dear life.

"Damn hearing aids," he said shuffling out quickly. But poor Jerry didn't see it coming. Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso swept in front of him and bared their fangs with piercing red eyes.

"BOO!" They all yelled and raised their hands like claws. Jerry let out a shriek and fell over backwards dropping his flashlight. The trio hugged and laughed together pointing at the old man. Stretch wiped a tear from his eyes.

"Oh that nevah gets old," he said putting his hands on his hips.

"Whata we do with 'im?" Fatso asked.

"Ah just leave 'im, someone will find him in the morning," Stretch grimaced looking at this ancient face.

"God, what is this dude, one-hundred years old or somethin'?"

"Nah dis bozo's a local legend! He's one hundred and two!" Fatso threw his hands in the air.

"He's not breathin', Stretch," Stinkie poked him slightly on the stomach and he gurgled slightly. They all loomed over him and watched in silence. Jerry made a small spasm, causing them all to jump back a little bit.

"That's good enough for me!" Stretch said flying upward. "Aight, do we remembah the plan, boys?"

They nodded.

"We possess some poor fleshies bodies at da begginin' of da party," Stinkie said rubbing his hands together.

"Then we get in there and wreck havoc as usual," Fatso said grinning.

"Then as just before the clock strikes two -" Stinkie said.

"- the stink bomb will go off! And as a bonus we'll reveal ourselves and scare the livin' pants off the entire town!"

They cackled together, gathering in a small huddle. "And bada-bing bada-boom we're back in business," Stretch said, smoothly.

"It's the perfect plan for a night them fleshies won't evah forget!" Stinkie said.

"Now let's get movin, if we're gonna get this bomb ready in time for the party tomorrow," Stretch said.

Stinkie and Fatso grinned at each other and pulled out the bomb. It was round and a puke green with a stink cloud on the front of it.

"My finest work," Stinkie brought it to his face. "Let's put her to work, this time tomorrow? The entire town will be the stinkiest town in all of Maine."

[smurphyse]

Room 405

Masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k (bc idk when to shut the fuck up)

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Sort of a Sugar Daddy!Spencer thing were ramping up to. Filthy porn with plot, choking, daddy kink, collars, slapping, degradation/praise kink, knife play? Not really though at all. Also, bit of angst at the end bc I cannot physically help myself. Part 2 anyone?

***If you choose to read, you're responsible for the content you consume. Don't come at me about it and minors DNI***

You looked forward to Room 405 each week.

Sitting at work, you would pout to yourself and lightly drag your pen up and down your thighs, thinking of all the wondrous things you got up to in that hotel room.

Chains, whips, spankings, anything could happen on Friday nights, 7 pm in Room 405.

📷

You looked forward to Room 405 each week.

Sitting at work, you would pout to yourself and lightly drag your pen up and down your thighs, thinking of all the wondrous things you two got up to in that hotel room.

Chains, whips, spankings, anything could happen on Friday nights, 7 pm in Room 405, and it meant you spent most of your week thinking about it.

Sometimes he would be there, waiting with a dark look in his eyes, a command, and a beckoning hand. Other times, in his place would be a note and a bottle of wine, the tub already filled to the brim with bubbles and a satin-lined box waiting for you on the nightstand.

The last five weeks you had been left with only the notes and boxes of toys and goodies for you to enjoy alone. You had used them vigorously, to say the least, but five weeks without him left you feeling pent up and frustrated.

So, with a little bit of hope in your heart and a throbbing from that needy place below, you slipped on a red teddy with matching panties, garters and stockings, cinched your trench coat tightly over it, and stepped into the cool DC night.

Your perfume surrounded you as you walked, and you smiled to yourself. He better be there this week, or I'm leaving a polaroid for him or the maid to find.

Heads turned to follow you as you walked through the entrance of the hotel. You knew how you looked- long black coat, matching suede thigh highs, skin scrubbed and moisturized to perfection, hair styled and ready to be ruined , just like you.

How he afforded a standing room at this place was beyond you, but he kept it rented just for the two of you and your games. You two were never bothered, never checked in on, always left alone to your own devices unless you ordered room service or a turn down, but he usually waited until you were long gone to do that.

Approaching the door, you took a deep breath. From the little you knew about him, his job often took him away, and when he came back he needed the release. You needed it too, which is why you agreed to this little arrangement in the first place.

Your job was hard, and it often weighed heavily on your shoulders to be in charge and on all the time. Coming here and not having to command, but instead to be good, and listen… it made the rest of your week easier to deal with.

If he wasn't on the other side, at least he'd leave you with something to take the edge off, usually with instructions to follow in ways that always managed to leave you feeling at least somewhat satisfied when he wasn't there.

Taking a deep breath, preparing for disappointment, you slid your keycard into the lock. It chimed and clicked open, so you opened the door and stepped inside.

You couldn't hold back your smile as you laid eyes on him for the first time in over a month. He lounged in one of the suite's plush armchairs, swirling a glass of wine in one hand, holding up his messy head of hair with the other on the armrest.

His black suit was wrinkled, disheveled from whatever it was he had been doing. The top three buttons on his shirt were open, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He looked tired, and you cocked your head and smiled at him.

His eyes were deliciously dark, and you knew as soon as they made contact that you were in for a ride tonight.

"Spencer," you purred as you shut the door behind you.

"Y/N," Spencer grinned at you, his gaze sliding up and down your covered form.

He patted his thigh wordlessly, and your feet carried you over to him without any conscious thought.

You settled on his lap as his arms wrapped around you and pulled you close. His nose was warm against your neck from the cool air outside, and he breathed in the scent of your perfume.

Spencer tapped your hand with the wine glass, so you slipped your fingers around the stem and took a sip as his began to wander. Palming you through your coat, Spencer sighed and pulled you tighter to his chest.

"I missed you, sweetheart," he murmured as he placed a kiss between your shoulder blades. "It's been weeks."

“Five,” you said, more bitterly than you meant to. You took another sip of wine as his hands stilled on your hips.

“Five? No way,” he said, and you felt him shake his head behind you. Setting the wine glass on the side table, you turned in his lap to face him. You slid your thighs over his strong hips to straddle him as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Check your receipts, you’ve bought me three teddies and two new vibrators this month.”

Spencer frowned and looked down at your chest as he thought. His hands traced circles along your back, his eyebrows scrunching up together. You reached out and pressed your thumb between them, easing them apart.

“Did you like them?” he asked with a sheepish grin that you couldn’t help but return.

“Mmm,” you hummed, tapping your chin as you pretended to think. “As much as I love how big my toy box has gotten since we met a few months ago, they’re never as good as the real thing.”

Spencer pulled your hips down harder on his, grinding up into you and groaning. You cupped his jaw with your hands and kissed the tip of his nose.

“I missed you…” you moaned softly, and he grinned between your palms. “So much that I brought a surprise, hoping you would be here.”

His eyes lit up as you drug yourself regretfully off his lap. You reached over and picked up the glass of wine once more, keeping eye contact with him as you finished it off. He took it from you and set it back on the table with a barely restrained smile.

He leaned back, spreading his legs and resting his arms on the sides of the chair as he watched you excitedly.

You set one heeled boot between his legs, ghosting his crotch with the sole. You didn’t miss the way he jerked forward slightly, although he tried to maintain his cool. You wondered idly how long it had been since he came, and just how far he’d let you push him before he snapped.

Slowly, painfully, you unzipped your boot, letting the sides peel open to reveal your lace stockings. Spencer’s hand shot out as you got to the bottom, gripping your ankle while he watched you intently.

“You’re trying to tease me,” he whispered dangerously, but you were feeling brave, so you smirked back.

“You’ve been gone for five long weeks. I need my fun.” He still glared up at you, so you softened and pouted, “Please, daddy?”

The grin that peeled across his face made your heart swell, and he eased his grip on your ankle, slipping your boot off for you and kissing your knee. He set your leg down and pressed his fingers to the back of your knee and pulled it up to the couch, doing the same to that one.

“Only because you’re right, sweetheart,” he warned, nodding to you to continue, and you couldn’t help but shiver. “I’ve been gone for too long, but I can’t have you turning into a brat on me.”

You untied your belt, letting your coat slip from your shoulders. It fell to the floor with a muted thump.

“You’re wearing my present,” he breathed, teeth clamping down onto his bottom lip. He palmed himself through his pants with one hand, beckoning you with the other, “Come here.”

“I said I had a surprise.”

Leaning down and reaching into your coat pocket, you pulled out a strap of red leather connected by a silver heart. You stepped forward as he held out his hand for it.

“A collar?” he gasped happily, turning the patent leather over in his hands. “Ohh, you did miss me.”

You fell to your knees between his thighs, looking up at him and his beautiful face with all the reverence you could muster. Spencer stood and sighed, walking around you, trailing his fingers along the column of your neck and shoulders.

His fingers tangled into the back of your hair, tugging you back and exposing your throat. Spencer leaned down and kissed your temple, whispering in your ear, “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” you answered, bouncing happily on your knees as he dangled the collar in front of your face. He gripped your hair harshly, forcing your back to arch far enough back to look up at him.

“Who do you belong to?” he growled, and you rubbed your thighs together as your pussy began to pulse with need. “I won’t ask again.”

Spencer released your hair, pushing your head forward as he did. You caught yourself on the chair, but before you could steady the collar was wrapping around your throat as he pulled your back to him again.

Your back pressed against his thighs as he held you tightly, tears springing in the corners of your eyes. He watched you for a moment, waiting for you to be a brat, but you just wanted to please him as he rubbed his stiffening cock against the back of your head.

“You daddy,” you whimpered, your legs twitching as you tried desperately to hold yourself back from touching yourself. That wouldn’t go over very well, you had learned that long ago.

“Good girl.”

Loosening the collar, Spencer secured the latch at the back of your neck and patted the top of your head. You panted as his hands brushed back the hair in your face, pulling it out of the collar. Your nipples were rock hard, brushing painfully against the lacy fabric.

You were too sensitive, it had been too long.

You were in for a rough night.

“Get up,” he commanded, and you scrambled to your feet to face him. He looked down at you so sweetly, only his jaw held the sternness exhibited just seconds ago. Spencer gripped your jaw tightly and pulled you into a deep kiss.

Your hands reached out on instinct, clutching his suit and pulling him as close as you could, but he cruelly pulled away and slapped you.

You looked up at him through watery eyes, trying to ignore the stinging in your cheek as he cocked his head and pouted at you, but he combed his fingers through your hair. “No touching, me or yourself. Do you understand?”

You nodded, then thought better of it, “Yes, daddy.”

“Color?” he asked gently, searching your eyes for any hesitation.

“Green,” you cooed, smiling at him, and he smiled back, leaning forward and kissing the tip of your nose.

“Go sit on the bed.”

You stumbled trying to bolt for the bedroom, but you tripped and fell forward. Spencer caught you with a hand wrapped around your bicep, tugging you to stand back up.

“So desperate, huh?” he mocked you, pouting again. “So pathetic, you’re tripping on your feet you’re so desperate to get fucked.”

You nodded quickly, “It’s been so long.”

“My presents weren’t enough for you?” Spencer asked, pulling you close and using his body to intimidate you. It worked, and your shoulders slumped as you looked away from him.

Spencer’s hand shot out, wrapping around your jaw and pulling you up til you had to move to your tiptoes, “Well? Five weeks without me and you forget how to speak?”

“They were enough, daddy,” you mumbled as your chin began to wobble. You hated how truly pathetic you sounded. This was just sex, but you missed him when he was gone. “Nothing I do to myself with your toys lives up to what we do here together.”

Spencer’s gaze softened as his grip on you eased. He smiled sweetly at you and leaned down slowly to kiss you. His lips were warm as they pressed against yours, insistent and firm and you melted in his arms.

His hands dragged down your sides, squeezing and pinching as his tongue demanded entrance into your mouth, licking into you and plunging inside. You whimpered when he moved further, gripping your ass and kneading with those strong fingers.

You yelped when they moved between your thighs, gripping tightly and lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He carried you to the bedroom, never relenting with his demanding kisses until he dropped you on the bed.

Spencer pressed a palm to your chest and shoved you down into the mattress. Quickly covering your body with his, he went to work on your neck, sucking bruises and soothing with a swipe of his tongue.

You struggled to keep your hands at your sides, wanting nothing more than to hold onto him for dear life. He was so warm, strong and firm, and you loved holding onto him while he fucked you into oblivion.

“Hands,” he ordered as if he read your mind, and your arms flew up above your head. He chuckled, reaching above you.

You twisted up to see what he was messing with as a jingling noise skittered across the headboard. He had come prepared, a set of red leather handcuffs were already looped around a board and ready for your wrists.

Spencer secured you, the fuzzy insides sliding along your skin, kissing each wrist before tightening the leather straps. He trailed open mouthed kisses down your arms, biting softly into the apex of your neck before switching to the other.

“Look at you,” he murmured, trailing his fingers softly over your chest as you shivered. “Wearing my present, looking like a wet dream…”

Spencer’s hands met between your breasts, his fingers slipping under the lace. He flashed you a dirty smile before clutching it in his hands and ripping it apart.

You moaned as your heated skin became exposed to the cool air, your nipples standing ready and at attention as Spencer ripped the garment all the way in half. You frowned as your chest heaved, watching Spencer watch your tits bounce in the soft light.

“I liked this one,” you pouted, and he kissed you gently.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he growled, pawing at your sides as he kissed his way down your neck, nipping here and there.

He latched onto one of your nipples, smiling around the bud as you gasped and your hips jerked forward, still held down by his. He swirled it around with his tongue, teeth grazing your swelling skin. He pulled off with a pop, then moved to abuse the other.

Your legs squeezed around his thighs, desperate for some relief, but his hand shot out to grip your hip. He held on tight enough to bruise, and your hips stuttered forward again at the thought.

“I don’t know how much teasing I can take tonight, sweetheart,” he cooed, biting softly between your breasts. He chuckled to himself as you whimpered, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of your panties and tugging them down.

“I haven’t had you in weeks.” A guttural groan rumbled through his chest as he tossed them to the floor and looked down at you.

You were already a wreck. Your stocking-clad legs hung open around him, your teddy torn to shreds around your locked arms, skin red and blotchy and full of a need you didn’t know you could muster.

“I need you, daddy,” you cried, pushing your hips up so he could get a better view of your pussy. You could feel yourself dripping, your own need and desperation trailing down your cheeks and soaking the sheets. “Please, I don’t even care if I don’t cum, I just need you inside me.”

You babbled as tears formed in your eyes, “Please, please please, cum inside me daddy.”

“Don’t you want to cum?” he asked, trailing his thumb up your slit slowly. Your hips jerked forward toward his hand as your head rocked back into the mattress.

“I wanna cum, daddy, I swear!” you sobbed, and he pressed his thumb into your clit, but he didn’t move. “I just want you to cum, I want you to cum inside me, on me, I don’t care, I just need you!”

“You have me, sweetheart,” Spencer soothed you. His other hand palmed its way up your stomach and chest. As his fingers wrapped around your throat, he pushed two inside your aching cunt. “I’m right here.”

Your head dropped back onto the covers as your back arched to take more of him. He fucked your with his fingers, curling and pressing against your spongy cunt each time he pulled out. He leaned down and kissed your stomach, then flicked your clit with his tongue, making your back arch violently.

“I’m right here,” he said again, tightening his hold on your throat. He stretched you out and pressed his thumb to your clit, laughing quietly as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“Mmm,” you moaned as his thumb swirled your bundle of nerves. Your legs were already starting to twitch ferociously, preparing to clamp down around his hand. “Can I cum, daddy?”

“What do you say?” he asked quietly, and even with your eyes looking at your brain you knew he was watching you closely, seeing how far he could push you.

“Can I please cum, daddy!” you begged, the sopping sounds of your wet pussy sending you closer and closer to the edge. Spencer added a third finger and pulled them apart as he pulled out of you only to shove them back in again roughly. “Please, please, please!”

“Look at me, Y/N,” Spencer commanded, and it took all you had to do so. Your biceps pressed against your head, the view of his strong forearm holding you down by your neck as his muscles bulged… his fingers pumped furiously in and out of your as his blown pupils watched your darkly.

“Cum for me.”

You cried out sharply as your orgasm ripped through you. The heat rushed through your soaking cunt, up your stomach and over your shoulders. The blood roared in your ears as you gazed into those hazel eyes, your pussy clamping down on his hands as he worked your through your release.

He let you go, your head dropping back as you came down from your high, his fingers slipping out of you gently. Spencer wasted no time, unzipping his pants, pulling out is dick and climbing on top of you. He gave you little time to rest, quickly flipping you over onto your stomach.

He gripped your hips and pulled you up to your knees, then reached over and grabbed an extra pillow to put under your stomach. He panted in your ear, as his hands reached underneath the ripped teddy.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, and you murmured an affirmative into the pillows, nodding sluggishly.

You vaguely registered the sound of the blade as it flicked open. It was cool on your skin as he pressed it to your back. There was a ripping sound as he cut the teddy the rest of the way off, pulling it from your shoulders and tossing it to the ground.

“Good girl,” he whispered, kissing along your spine, then moving up to deposit the pocket knife on the nightstand. “Color?”

“Green,” you grunted, whining as you pushed your hips back. Your hands were still locked to the headboard, only the pillow under you holding you up. “Please fuck me, daddy.”

Spencer spread your cheeks with his hands, trailing down the backs of your thighs. You knew him well enough to know that he was watching your pussy clench and twitch in anticipation. You thrust your hips back impatiently with a whine.

“Greedy brat,” he snarled, slapping your ass harshly. You yelped and tried to pull away, but he pulled your hips flush with his, rubbing his cock between your cheeks. “I’m done being nice.”

Before you could say anything, Spencer spread your lips, sheathing his cock inside you with one thrust.

“Oh!” you yelped, your face turning hot again as you adjusted to him. He was thick, always beautifully so, but five weeks without him led to your feeling like you were being split in half… and you loved it.

Spencer thrust into you like a man possessed, gripping your hips, bucking your forward into the pillows. Your ass jiggled with every pounding of his cock, your legs spreading further and further without any real thought as you took what he gave you, relishing in the feeling of him still being clothed while you kneeled, chained and naked on the bed.

“Who do you belong to?” he grunted, and by the faltering of his hips, you knew he was closer than he’d like to be. A jolt of liquid heat shot straight to your cunt as his dick twitched inside you.

“You daddy,” you gasped as his hand wrapped around the back of the collar and pulled it tight. Your back arched, and Spencer groaned wantonly in your ear as he covered your body with yours, his cock slamming further inside you with the new position.

“This pretty pussy, it’s mine, nobody else’s. You understand me?” he snarled as he fucked you into the mattress. “Nobody fucks you like me, nobody owns you like I do, sweetheart.”

“I understand, daddy,” you cried as the coil in your stomach tightened so rapidly your head swam as your body rocked into the mattress, the headboard slamming against the wall. “Mark me, carve your name into me so everybody knows who owns me. I need a collar… I need a collar with your name on it!”

You babbled as you began to drool, desperate for him cum and his praise, his degradation. “I’m your good little cumdump, I’myourlittlewhore, daddy.”

“Fuck!” Spencer growled in your ear, biting down on your earlobe as one hand wrapped around you to play with your clit. He flicked the little bud, his hips pistoning your further and further into the pillows.

“You like being my little toy, don’t you? Daddy’s little fleshlight to cum in and use. You like it when I use you baby?” he slurred as his hips began to jerk erratically. “Cum for daddy, cum on daddy’s cock and he’ll use you just like you like it.”

The coil snapped on cue, and you were powerless to hold it back when he was telling you what to do like that. Spencer’s teeth sunk into your shoulder, and a few pumps later he spilled hot cum into your cervix.

His hips slowed, and he collapsed on your back as you both panted into the sheets. Spencer’s hands wandered up and down your sides as you began to shiver, the sweat on your body cooling in the open air.

Reaching up with a shaky hand, Spencer unbound your hands from the cuffs, and your arms collapsed into the pillows.

“Sweetheart?” he asked, and you grunted to let him know you were alive.

“Fucked silent, that’s a first,” he laughed lightly. He kissed a gentle trail up your spine and across your shoulders, then flipped you slowly onto your back.

Spencer sat you up, moving pillows so you could sit up straight. He rubbed your shoulders, then your wrists, easing some of the aching that already began to set in.

You leaned back against the pillows, relishing in his aftercare as he massaged you for a while, whispering words of encouragement to you.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart.”

“Such a good girl, just like daddy knew you were.”

As you began to nod off, Spencer laid down next to you and pulled you to his chest. You wrapped your arm across him as he pulled the covers over them both. He kissed your head, his lips lingering as he breathed you in deeply.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long,” he whispered. “I was stuck in Texas for-”

“Don’t,” you stopped him, sitting up and pressing your hand to his chest. “You don’t want to tell me that.”

Spencer watched you, his eyes which were always so dark when you first stepped into this hotel suite always became soft when you two were finished. He covered your hand in his and sighed.

“Maybe I do.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” you told him softly, and he nodded. “You said you wanted just sex, just release.”

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asked you, and you shrugged, looking away.

“I want this,” you whispered, swallowing thickly. “I don’t want this to stop. I need this, I need you, and you need me too.”

“Just stay until I fall asleep, okay?” Spencer relented after a moment, and you nodded.

Cuddling into his chest once more, you waited until his breathing slowed and his body relaxed into the mattress. It didn’t take long, it never does.

You left the discarded teddy on the floor, put on your boots and your coat. Looking back one more time to see Spencer, you smiled bitterly to yourself.

His face was so peaceful, his messy hair fanned out across the pillows. You could see the indentation where you were, where you still want to be, but you can’t.

That wasn’t the deal.

Once a week, you forget your problems, your fears, your pain.

Anything could happen on Friday nights, 7 pm in Room 405.

But not that.

Notes:I love feedback! Soooo lay it on me! What did you think? Do we want a part two??

Send me some prompts for oneshots!

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Let Me Feel You For a While

Pairing - Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Warnings - 18+ NSFW SMUT DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE A MINOR PLEASE!!! Breeding kink (im sorry), slight blood, marking/biting, accidental voyeurism? THIGH RIDING YES PLEASE, AND SHARP TEETH MAKE ME DROOL. Oh btw spoilers for the Farewell Archaic Lord I think? General spoiler warning for genshin.

Word Count - 1.7k.

 Other Comments - You guys have NO IDEA how much I love Zhongli oh my god I love him. I slept on him at first but ever since my eyes were opened I realized how wrong I was for that. Anyway enjoy!!

@sadpsychologist @barbqtos​

      Zhongli had money, he was just dumb and never brought it with him; too used to the routine of just making more Mora if he ever needed to buy anything while he was an Archon. This being said, that also meant he had one of the most elaborate bedrooms you’d ever laid eyes on. The room was filled with rich browns and shimmering golds, his bed sheets made from the finest silks. Archons never really slept, which meant the Zhongli had made this room as ethereal as possible just for you. 

     You were laying across the cold white gold sheets, hair clinging to your forehead from the sweat. Your fingers were dancing around your clit, rubbing harshly at times before dipping into your wet cunt and pumping them in and out roughly. You were so horny it was uncomfortable, and since you had gotten accustomed to your lover's large member, your fingers were doing much for you. You needed something better. You shakily stood from the bed, before kneeling down and pulling out the box and you guys only got into when the two of you were really in the mood. You quickly found what you were looking for, as it was the largest thing in the box. You pulled the dildo out of the box before quickly shoving the box back under your bed.

     Zhongli didn’t really like when you took matters into your own hands, as he wanted to always be the one thing that made you melt. He wanted to pleasure you in ways that you never would have imagined. At this point you were quickly pumping the dildo in and out of yourself, lost in the pleasure as you moaned out loudly. You weren’t worried about anyone hearing since you were alone in the house and Zhongli wasn’t going to be home for a while. You can imagine your shock and horror when you opened your eyes to see Zhongli standing in the doorway, dick already straining hard against the large man’s dress pants.

     “Ah you finally noticed my presence.” Your face was even redder when those words left his lips. How long had he been standing there watching you fuck yourself roughly with the large silicone tool. You let out a low whimper, beginning to pump the object in and out of yourself again, too worked up to be embarrassed. You heard Zhongli chuckle lightly before the loud sounds of his dress shoes against the hardwood floor could be heard. You felt Zhongli’s gloved hands halt your movements before brushing your hand away and pulling the dildo out, setting it aside for cleaning at a later time. Soft desperate whimpers falling from your mouth as your chest heaved up and down. Zhongli pressed soft kisses to your face, his gloved hands running up and down your naked body, brushing against your nipples causing you to jolt.

     “You’re so sensitive my dear.” Your hands were looking for purchase on any part of his body, finally landing on his strong biceps. You squeezed his arms hard, wiggling around and continuing to whimper.

     “Nothing feels as good as you Zhongli, please… please help me. Fill me Zhongli, stuff me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your lips swollen from chewing on them.

     “Well it looked like you were having a good time with the dildo sweetheart.” Warm embarrassment bloomed in your chest and you desperately tried to pull Zhongli down by his collar. Zhongli’s lips attacked your, passionately biting at yours, Zhongli’s sharp canines drawing blood before he swiped it away with a quick flick of his tongue.

     He continued this assault on your flesh as he went lower. He made sure to mark you anywhere that was visible, it made his pride swell when he saw you walking around Liyue trying and failing to cover up bitemarks and deep purple hickies. Zhongli pulled back to admire his work, before propping himself up on the edge of the bed. Strong arms manhandled you, forcing you to straddle his thigh. You blushed profusely when you realized what Zhongli wanted you to do.

     “But- but your pants Zhongli, I don’t want to ruin them…” A small smile and eyes filled with pure admiration poured into yours. He carded his fingers through your hair, pushing back any strays behind your ear in the process.

     “My dearest, you have always been so considerate, but for tonight don’t worry about anything, just do what comes natural to you. My clothes can be cleaned, and if not I will buy another pair.” Zhongli’s hands gripped your hips tightly, starting to move you back and forth on his thigh. You clit was ecstatic to finally be getting some friction, moans already being ripped from your throat. The ex archons dick was uncomfortably hard, outline clear as day from how hard it was straining against his slacks. Once you finally got yourself into a rhythm he let one of his hands fall from your hips, giving in and palming himself through the thick fabric.

     You moans began increasing in volume and frequency as you got closer and closer to the edge. You gripped onto Zhongli’s broad shoulders, your body quickly becoming tired. The man in front of you noticed this, letting his hand return to your hip as he helped steady your rhythm once again. Tears were threatening to fall from how good you felt, everything starting to become light and fuzzy as you continued to get closer to your climax.

     With a couple more rough thrust against his leg, the coil deep in your gut snapped, sending waves of please surging through your body. Your back arched hard before slumping into Zhongli’s chest. He kept your hips moving, letting your ride out your orgasm on his now soiled pants.

     “My love, do you still want me to fill you up?” Zhongli’s voice brought you back to reality, where you realized how hard he was. The thought of Zhongli filling you to the brim reignited the fire that was just extinguished in you. You nodded reverently before rolling off his thigh and onto your back, presenting yourself to him. A low groan sounded from Zhongli’s throat as you spread your leg wide, the site of you littered with markings making his brain go fuzzy; his only focus now on making you both feel good. You’ve never seen Zhongli rip off his close at such a speed before, until he was stark naked and crawling on top of you; caging your head with his arms.

      Once again Zhongli began to attack your neck, except not as rough, not wanting to cause more pain than pleasure. Without warning, he slammed his dick into you, since you had already worked yourself open for him. Despite this, your walls still clung tightly to him, his large cock dragging deliciously against your walls as he hit all the right places. Both of your were on cloud nine, as he ruthlessly pounded into your.

     Normally when the two of you had sex, right before Zhongli came he would pull out and cum onto your stomach which he of course would clean up later. Not for any particular reason as to why since you were on birth control, it had just become a habit. This time however you wanted to do things a little different. You were getting close, and you could tell he was as well, as his breathing became more uneven and more low pitched noises started coming from him. Your walls fluttered around his cock, causing him to shutter and let out a low grunt. Before it was too late, you tightly wrapped your arms around the ex Archons next, and pulled him down closer so your lips were mere centimeters away from his ear.

     “Cum in me Zhongli, stuff me with your cum. I want every drop of it please I wanna feel you inside me even after you pull out. Archons please please Zhongli let me feel you cum. Breed me.” Zhongli’s eyes widened, those words causing something to snap in him as he was hit with another wave of pleasure, his thrust still maintaining their power but becoming more erratic. You could feel Zhongli’s calloused fingers rubbing quickly against your clit, sending new waves of pleasure through you. The moans coming from the two of you were matched perfectly, as the two of you got closer and closer. With a couple of final thrusts, Zhongli sheathed himself in you as deep as he could go, cumming shooting deep into you. The feeling of his cum filling you up is what sent you over the edge, cumming for the second time; your mouth falling open to form a silent scream. You could feel Zhongli beginning to ooze out of you as he pulled out, which made you shiver.

     “Let’s get you cleaned up shall we darling?” Zhongli was still a little out of breath as he stood from his position on top of you, holding his hand out to you. You grabbed a hold of him, before catching him off guard and pulling him back down.

     “Let me stay full for a little while longer.” Sleep was slowly starting to take over, as your eyelids couldn’t stay open. Your words went straight to Zhongli’s dick, but that was an issue he would take care of himself. For right now, he just pulled you into his chest, allowing you to drift off into blissful slumber.