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lightsoutletsgo · 6 months

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the one where ollie lives alone (cl.16 x bearman!reader)

pairing: mainly ollie bearman x oldersister!reader for this part but there's a plenty of charles leclerc x bearman!reader here and there!

word count: 4.2k

warnings: a whole lot of stupidity mentions of death, seemingly angsty in some parts (you'll see what I mean) this might be one of my favourite parts I've written for any series ever 😭 it's so dumb but so funny (according to the people who proofread for me!) as always let me know what you think! your comments are always appreciated. happy reading! mimi 🤍

taglist: @arieslost @iamapersonwholikesunicorns

“Jesus Y/N, what the hell is in here?” Ollie wheezed as he staggered past you, arms straining under the weight of the box he was carrying. You rolled your eyes, “You’re so dramatic Ols, it’s literally just makeup.”

“Is that the last box ma belle?” You turned and saw Charles in the doorway, staring at you fondly. “Mhmm! Everything else is in the van.” You held your arms out to him and he crossed the room, pulling you in by your waist and kissing you softly, “I can’t believe you’re finally coming home with me…” You smiled, looping your arms round his neck, “Me either,” He booped your nose with his own, a loud cough making the two of you jump apart as Ollie leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised, “Are you two done being gross?” “Shut up dummy.” You punched his arm as you walked past him towards the front door. You inhaled deeply, it felt strange but exciting to be moving out and into Charles’ apartment.

Behind you, Charles watched Ollie stare at you, looking like he wanted to say something. He quietly padded up behind the younger driver and nudged his arm, “Are you going to miss her?” Ollie was startled but quickly scoffed, “Hmm? No way!” Charles gave him a pointed look, “I get the whole place to myself! I can’t wait!” Charles gave him a smile and punched his arm gently, “We’re only ten minutes away if you need us.” Ollie laughed, “Thanks but I can manage!”

♯ incident 1 - the dishwasher ⊹.∿ As it turned out, Ollie could in fact, not manage. Mere hours after you’d left him, you found yourself sprinting back up the stairs, cursing the old apartment building for still not having an elevator. You reached the floor of your old apartment and checked the door to see if it was open, turning the handle and entering you called out, “Ollie? I got your text!” You poked your head into each room as you went, searching for him, “What’s the emer…gen…cy…” You trailed off as you reached the kitchen, Ollie staring up at you with wide eyes, crouching next to the dishwasher that was… pouring out soapy bubbles? “Ollie!” “I think I made a mistake.” He said dryly, suspiciously poking some of the bubbly foam next to his shoulder, “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” You said sarcastically, thinking of a solution, “You put dish soap in didn’t you?” He nodded sheepishly, “There were no dishwasher tablets left so I just… thought on my feet?” You facepalmed and sighed, “Okay well, we need to- DON’T OPEN IT!”

You looked on in horror as Ollie pulled open the door and a torrent of soapy warm foam spilled out and all over the kitchen floor, creeping further into the centre of the room, was it… growing? You looked over at your brother to see him staring back at you with comically wide eyes. “So that’s why we don’t do that.” You said, face deadpan. Ollie giggled nervously, “Oops?” A snort from behind you had you turning round to see Charles filming the whole thing, “Oh some help you are babe.” Charles coughed to cover up his laughter as he put his phone away and entered the foamy bubbly monstrosity that was now the kitchen. “Somewhere under here there’s a bucket and mop.” “Ollie?” “Yeah?” “You’re going in.”

♯ incident 2 - french toast ⊹.∿ A few days had passed since the dishwasher incident and you dozed in Charles’ arms, enjoying the lazy Sunday morning sun slipping through the bedroom curtains. The previous night’s activities had left you a little worn out and with no plans for the day, you had wordlessly agreed that a cosy day in bed was just what you needed. A shrill sound pierced the air and jolted both you and Charles awake. You scrambled to find your phone, as Charles groaned, hands rubbing his face as your hand came up to feel how quickly your heart was pounding. You glanced at the screen as your hand met your phone and you scowled, Charles rubbing your back and doing his best not to laugh as he saw who was calling you, “Ollie Bearman, you better have a damn good reason for calling me this early on a Sunday morning.” There was a pause, “It’s eleven o’clock?-” “That’s not the point!” You sighed, “What do you need?” “Well, you see… I have a question.” “Go ahead,” “So I was making french toast right? And I followed the recipe exactly as you wrote it out! Right amount of eggs, milk and sugar.” “So what’s the issue?” Ollie sighed, “It won’t cook but it smells a bit smokey…” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Then turn it down?” “I don’t know how!” “Turn the hob dial down dummy!” Ollie went silent for a second, “Did you say hob dial?” Alarm bells started ringing in your head, “Why would I adjust the hob when I’m using the toaster.” You froze for a moment before pulling your phone away from your ear and putting it on speaker, unable to believe what you were hearing, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Charles gave you a concerned look, sitting even closer to you and wrapping one arm around you while the other rubbed your knee comfortingly

“I said, I’m using the toaster.” You stared at your phone, mouth slightly agape, “You’re making french toast in the toaster?” “Correct.” Charles snorted and choked back a huge guffaw of laughter as the hand he’d placed on your knee came up to cover his mouth, his face turning pink with how hard he was laughing, “Ollie! French toast isn’t made in the toaster!” “It’s called french toast!” You pressed the video button and changed the call to facetime. Your brother stared back at you, looking rather dishevelled, “That’s a rather deceiving name if you ask me!” You groaned, facepalming, “You make it in a frying pan” Charles was no help next to you as he wheezed silently, grabbing his own phone to record the conversation for later use and hilarity. “Well how was I supposed to know that?!” Ollie was indignant as he pleaded with you through the screen, “OLLIE! You’ve watched me make it hundreds of times!” He pouted through the screen letting out a little ‘hmmph’ “Well if you hadn’t abandoned me, we wouldn’t have this issue would we!” You rolled your eyes, “For the last time, I did not abandon you! I live a 10 minute walk away!”

You sighed before laughing at your brother lovingly, “Alright then silly, head over for lunch and I’ll show you how to make french toast the proper way.” Charles snorted once more and you both burst into giggles as your brother scowled at you, “Stop laughing at me!” Ollie whined, you caught your breath and wiped your eyes, heart warm at the silly moment you knew would turn into a fond memory, “Uhhhh Y/N?” You looked back at the screen to where Ollie was turning the camera round to show you a sparking, smoking toaster, “I don’t think it should be doing that…” You cursed as Charles scrambled out of bed, pulling mismatching socks on as you grabbed a hoodie, “Change of plans Ols, we’re on our way!”

♯ incident 3 - Gerald ⊹.∿ Things were peaceful for a couple of days after the french toast debacle - something you were more than thankful for, wrapped up in your perfect little bubble with Charles. Of course you continued to text Ollie, but there had been no major crisis that required your immediate attention. Until there was.

It had been one of those long lazy days spent at home, until Charles had announced he was taking you to dinner and told you to get all dressed up. You’d slipped on one of his favourite numbers and he’d shown his appreciation more than once, sliding his hands round your hips and squeezing while you waited to be seated, pulling your chair out for you to sit down and sliding his hands down your arms once you were seated, moving his chair round the table to sit closer to you so he could place a slow smooch against your neck. You hummed happily as he fed you a mouthful of his dish, “I knew you’d like it!” You smiled at him, “I like most things you suggest…” He bit his lip as his eyes darkened slightly, “Is that so?” You nodded, eyelashes fluttering as your lids close, “What if I suggested something a little… more intimate?” You giggled, picking up your wine glass to take a sip and hide your face, too shy to keep the eye contact, “I wouldn’t mi-” Your phone blaring cut you off and you gasped, rushing to put your glass down as other customers in the restaurant glared at you, Charles chuckling quietly next to you, his hand resting on your thigh and rubbing soothingly.

“Ollie I swear to go-” “He’s dead.” You heard your little brother sniffle and adrenaline kicked in, “Ollie, who’s dead?” You kept your voice as calm and quiet as possible, you heard him sniffle once more before a sob left his mouth. That was all you needed to hear before you were grabbing your clutch and nodding towards the door. Charles tilted his head and you mouthed your brother’s name. He nodded understandingly and rushed to pay the bill before you were both scurrying back to his car. As soon as you were buckled in you put your phone on speaker, “Ollie… Honey… what happened?” Charles also looked panicked as he heard Ollie’s choked sob, “He was fine and then he just… wasn’t.” “Who Ollie, who’s not fine?” You pleaded, “Ge-” You cursed as the call cut out, “It’s okay ma belle, his phone probably just died, we’re almost there okay?” You nodded, hands nervously twisting and wringing together in your lap. Charles eyes darted to your hands for a second before looking back at the road, one hand leaving the steering wheel to gently hold your hand in his. You looked at him and squeezed, a wordless thank you.

As soon as Charles pulled up, you were racing out of the car, slipping your heels off and carrying them in your hand as you sprinted barefoot up the stairs of the apartment building. You reached the door and rang the bell, knocked, called his name, anything you could think of to attract his attention. The door opened slowly and it wasn’t Ollie that appeared but Arthuer Leclerc, looking ever so sombre, “Arthur?” Your eyes were panicked as you looked him over for any injuries or obvious isses. He simply held his hand out to indicate to you to enter and you slowly stepped through the door, “Where’s Ollie?” Arthur nodded, head down towards the ground and the panic rose in your chest again, “He’s in the living room, saying his goodbyes.” “Goodbyes to who?” You paced down the hallway and burst into the living room, your jaw dropping at the sight you saw.

Ollie stood in front of the coffee table that was lit with candles, dressed in a suit and your brain suddenly registered that Arthur had been dressed the same way. You were even more concerned when you saw Arthur’s girlfriend fully dressed in black, standing next to Ollie with a comforting hand on his shoulder. You approached him slowly, arms opening and your expression softening as he turned to you with a red splotchy nose and red-rimmed eyes, he fell into your arms and you patted his back, gently shushing him, “What happened, Ols?” “He’s gone.” Ollie croaked out, “Who’s gone honey?” Your voice was gentle as you stroked his hair, the same way you did when he was younger and couldn’t sleep, “Gerald.” “Oh.” You said softly, “Was he a friend?” Ollie nodded and you held back a wince as he rubbed his snotty nose onto your shoulder, knowing he needed you, “He was such a good friend.” You led him over to the couch and sat down, his head falling onto your shoulder as you continued to play with his hair.

You were aware of Charles appearing in the doorway and you gave him a brief smile, before turning your attention back to Ollie, “Would I know this friend?” Ollie nodded, his sobs quieting to sniffles, “You were his friend before I was.” Your stomach dropped as you frantically thought of who Ollie could possibly be referring to, feeling guilty that your mind was blank, “The funeral was lovely.” Arthur’s girlfriend nodded solemnly, a hand over her heart as the other hand came up to dab her eyes with a tissue, “The funeral has already happened?” You were confused as Arthur nodded, “Just before you got here.” Your eyes shot to Charles who was just as concerned and confused as you, “Wait, the funeral was here?” Ollie scoffed, “Well where else would it have been?” “Wait Ollie,” You held his face in front of yours, “Why was the funeral in your apartment?” “He wanted to be remembered in the place he was most happy…” Ollie sighed wistfully, his head turning to look at the coffee table once more.

You squinted, focusing on a shape amidst the flickering candles and once more your mouth gaped as you stood up and stormed over to the other side of the room. “Ollie. Bearman.” You gritted your teeth, “Don’t tell me that this was all about a fucking cactus?” “Succulent!” Ollie snapped at you, wiping away a tear from under his eye, “He was a succulent,” He whispered as he looked down at the floor. Charles broke first, snorting in the doorway and you watched as he did his best to choke down his laughter, coughing and shaking his head, you watched as he excused himself from the room for a moment to force a solemn expression back onto his face. He returned but you could see the laughter threatening to bubble over as he took in the sight before him. Ollie, his younger brother and his younger brother’s girlfriend all dressed in black and in mourning for a succulent that sat sadly on the coffee table and looked like it had been watered a little too much.

“I’m glad you got here,” Arthur spoke up suddenly, “Oh goodie, do tell me why.” Your tone was sarcastic. “We’re about to do the funeral exit.” Charles was holding in his laughter so much that he now had tears streaming down his face and Arthur patted his back with a ‘there, there’ and handed him a tissue. “Arthur’s girlfriend has agreed to sing the exit song and we’re so thankful she has.” “Who is we Ollie?” You brow furrowed as you looked around the living room, “I-I…” You sighed. “Go ahead.” You all stood still, heads to the floor as Arthur’s girlfriend launched into a rendition of ‘Memory’ from Cats, “Miiiiiiidniiiiiight, not a sound from the paaaaavemeeeent.” Charles quietly crossed the room to stand next to you, nudging you gently with his shoulder, “Interesting date night hmm?” You growled, “Don’t you dare encourage him.” Ollie approached you, “Do you want to say your final goodbyes?” “Ollie, why would I care about a succulent?” He gasped, “It’s Gerald!” “Yes Ollie so you said, but why would I care that it’s name is Gerald?” Ollie shook his head, “Don’t even recognise your own friend…” Arthur tutted and even his girlfriend gave you a disapproving look as she continued wailing in the background, you mentally made a note to apologise to the neighbours the next time you were here during normal sociable hours.

You rolled your eyes at your younger brother and stepped forward to ‘pay your respects’ to the succulent. Your eyes narrowed, “Oliver. James. Bearman. That’s MY fucking succulent!” “It was nice of you to wear black.” He continued, nodding towards your dress and Charles blazer and pants, ignoring your exclamation. “We were on a date!” You screeched, Charles once again powerless to help in any way, instead just collapsing with laughter. You growled as you lunged for your brother, “Ollie, I swear there will be a funeral tonight.” You hissed, “Yours!”

♯ incident 4 - spiderman ⊹.∿ After everyone had said their goodbyes to Gerald, he had been unceremoniously dumped into the rubbish bin and that had been the end of it. Ollie had promised to buy you a new succulent and had learned that they did not, in fact, require watering every day, and you now forever had ‘Memory’ stuck in your head. Once more, peace had been restored but you doubted it would last much longer.

Your theory was proved correct when a few days later, your phone rang. An unknown number. You ignored it at first, all too aware of strange reporters and crazy fans who would do anything to get closer to Charles. You simply went back to reading your book, until your phone rang again. It was an unknown number still and you grumbled, rolling your eyes and answering quite snappily, “Yes? Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line seemed almost taken aback, “Umm excuse me is this Y/N Bearman?” You sighed, “Yes it is, no I won’t give you a quote and yes Charles is great in bed, goodbye!-” “No wait please! I’m from downstairs! You live in 10B yes?” You stopped as your finger hovered over the end call button and brought the phone back up to your ear, “Uhhhh I used to, yes, can I ask why?” “Oh, well there’s a man trying to climb onto your balcony and I was concerned that’s all.” Your stomach flipped, your mind rushing to thoughts of someone breaking in when your little brother was home alone, “I’ll come over now! My younger brother still lives there.” You raced to grab your keys and jumped into your car, deciding to get there as soon as possible rather than walk. Who was stupid enough to break in in broad daylight? You briefly considered calling the police but you were sure the idiot would be gone by the time you got there. Your car pulled up and you craned your neck to look up at the balcony of your old apartment. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you spotted that there was indeed a man hanging off of your balcony, “Holy shit,” You mumbled, scrabbling to open the door and race towards the apartment complex. The closer you got you squinted as you realised the hoodie looked ever so familiar. “Ollie?!” You yelled up and shrieked as your brother looked down at you, giggling nervously as his feet kicked back and forth as he desperately searched for a footing, “What the fuck are you doing?” “Uhhh I can explain!” He yelled back to you, “H-hold on, I’m on my way up!” You hurried up the stairs, once more cursing the lack of elevator as you finally reached your floor, unlocking the door and rushing through the apartment to french doors out onto the balcony.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” You screeched, leaning over the balcony and diving to grab him and pull him up, “Ollie that’s so fucking dangerous!” “Look!” You heard a kid shout from the street below, “It’s Spiderman!” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "He wishes!" You paused for a moment to yell back, before resuming hauling your brother over the apartment balcony. “How did you even get up here? Why are you up here?” Ollie chuckled, panting slightly as he finally threw one leg over the ledge, “Funny story actually…” You raised an eyebrow, “Well please share,” “I forgot my key…” “I-” In your shock you almost let go of him and his scream attracted the attention of yet more passers by below, laughing and pointing at the odd sight they were witnessing. You smiled down awkwardly before turning back to Ollie once more, “Why didn’t you call me?” Ollie whined as you began to tell him off, “Because I didn’t want you to find out…” “Oh so this was a better idea- Ah!” You squeaked as Ollie tumbled over the ledge and onto the balcony. Landing on your stomach in a tangle of limbs, “Your foot is up my butt!” “Yeah well it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t been being stupid! Anyway, get your elbow out of my eye!” “Oh I’m sorry, I was making sure I wasn’t about to fall to my death!” You shoved Ollie off of you and led there on your back, panting, Ollie much the same,

“For the record, you are the shittiest spiderman there is.” “Thanks, that’s really boosting my confidence.” “Glad I could help.”

♯ the resolution ⊹.∿ “We need more protection.” You announced loudly, stepping into the kitchen “Excuse me?!” Charles choked on his protein shake, cheeks turning pink and you heard Max snort on the phone, “God, no! You pervs… I meant like, we need protection from Ollie and his dumbass incidents.” Max cackled, “Charles has sent me the videos, I was dying at the dishwasher incident.” You groaned, crossing the room to stand next to Charles who sat at the breakfast bar. He grinned as you rolled your eyes at Max who you could now see was on facetime. “Yeah, well I’m turning grey way sooner than I should!” You joked. You chatted with Max a little longer before Charles signed off with the promise of joining him to game later.

You sighed, leaning against Charles’ side, “What’s wrong ma belle?” You took another breath and paused, “I’m just… worried about Ollie…” Charles put his arm around you and rubbed your back soothingly, “What has you so worried mon amour?” His expression was warm and you knew he wasn’t angry with you, rather genuinely curious, “I just feel like… maybe he isn’t ready to live on his own yet?” Charles nodded at you and you took that as a signal to continue, “I mean, he’s always had me there to help him and I know someday he’s gonna have to get used to me not being there but I just feel like right now…” You trailed off with a sigh, “He still needs you.” Charles finished and you gave him a grateful smile and nodded. “But, I don’t wanna leave you. I love living with you and having you around and I love just... living life with you. Am I selfish for not wanting to give that up?” You bit your lip, moving away from Charles to pace the kitchen floor. Charles shook his head with a fond smile,

“Ma belle… You’re not selfish for wanting to do something for yourself and I’m proud of you for wanting to pursue that, especially since it’s me you want,” he slid his arms around you as you stepped next to him and dragged you backwards to him, making you giggle, “but I also know that you want to be there for family and I can understand that, you guys are close, the same way that me and Thur are, probably even closer.” You hummed, leaning back against him, “Thank you for being so understanding.” You sighed, “Now I just need to work out how to fix it…” Charles smiled and turned you round in his arms, nudging your nose with his, “Well… we have a spare room?”

Which is how you found yourself hauling boxes upstairs a week later, “Jesus Ollie, what the hell is in here?” You wheezed out and Ollie simply smiled at you, patting you on the head as he walked past you, arms empty, “You’re so dramatic Y/N, it’s literally just a few bits.” You poked your tongue out at him as he mimicked your words from just a couple of months ago. “Is that it mate?” Charles head appeared from behind the apartment door and Ollie nodded, as you finally conquered the stairs and planted the box down on the hallway floor. “Now let’s go over the rules one more time Ols.” He sighed, “Fine…” “Rule one?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, “No dish soap in the dishwasher…” He grumbled, Charles chuckled, “Rule two?” “No cooking without supervision.” Ollie recited as you nodded, “Don’t worry, that rule applies to Charles too.” “Huh?!” “Shush baby, rule three?” You turned back to Ollie, “No watering the succulents unless instructed, no matter how sorry I feel for them.” You nodded, “I am not having a repeat of Gerald and the… funeral.” You shuddered, as Charles snorted before asking, “Rule four?” “Always call one of you two if I forget my keys…” “And?” You raised an eyebrow, “No climbing balconies under any circumstances.” You clapped your hands together and smiled, “Good! Well I can’t think of anything else, can you?”

You turned to Charles who shook his head and Ollie who just shrugged, “In that case, let’s go! Pizza for dinner sound good?” The three of you walked into the apartment and the door to the hallway swung shut, your arguments about pizza toppings muffled through the door, but the happiness and love you felt for each other not dulled in the slightest.

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dcxdpdabbles · 1 year

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Danny and the Fan Blog part 2

Danny is trying to get a picture from the Gotham Bridge of its sister city, Bludhaven. He has dropped his invisibly, sure that being on the edge of a dangerous out-of-the-way ledge will keep unwanted mugging away.

He had flown down to the bottom metal part of the arch right smack in the middle- still far from the water but lower than where the cars and people were.

He sinks to his knees, hoping the bridge's light can get his shadow against the waves for an epic piece. Danny aims his lens, adjusting the focus again, and then presses the button.

At the exact moment, he does, a boat out rushes from underneath the arch of the bridge, and a body flings itself off the bridge's edge above him. The person twists masterfully midair, landing on the boat's deck with a soft thump and not a wasted movement.

Danny's mouth drops open, watching the boot disappear into the horizon before scrambling to see the photo.

It's gorgeous.

The water is highlighted by the golden glow of the street lanterns, and they bounce off the sleek black boat, with the skyscrapers of Bludhaven painting the perfect drop back. But what ties the picture together is Red Robin mid-fall, half twisted and arms above his head that its hard to tell if hes a fallen angel or a rising one.

He's got a half smile on his face, black hair blowing in the wind and Danny breath catches.

It's the best picture he's ever taken.

He stares at the screen of his camera, wondering how he could have been so lucky to have captured the perfect moment. Danny won't even have to do too much editing. It's ready to be posted right now.

He was so excited to share it that Danny abandoned his place, turning invisible and flying back to his apartment. He arrives to find Jazz working on her homework on the kitchen table, but her hand rests on a ghost gun until he drops his powers and becomes invisible.

Her face lights up at once, and her hand lifts from her weapon. "Danny! How was the photos tonight?"

"Only got one." He admits, sprinting forward to show her, "But look at which one!"

He brings up the image from the memory card, displaying it proudly. Jazz mouth slacks. "Woah, Danny, that's amazing! He looks so good in it! How on earth did you manage to get this?"

"Luck, really." He grins, reaching for a plate with apple slices and peanut butter that Jazz likely set out for him. It is his favorite snake.. "I was at the right place at the right time."

"And where exactly was this place?" He winces at the tone, he knows she doesn't like him taking too many risks, but it's not like he's in any real danger. Even the Meta collars that canceled people's powers would never work on him. Danny is a ghost, and no one has the technology for that unless someone finally starts taking his parents seriously.

Vlad has been fine since Jazz convinced him to see a therapist. He is currently in the ghost zone at some mental hospital retreat that has been doing wonders for him. They visit whenever chance they get.

"I may have been under the Gotham Bridge."

"Trigate Bridge or Brown Bridge?"

"There is more then one bridge?"

"Danny," Jazz sighs. "There are four bridges."

Danny shrugs, taking a bit from his snack, and starts his laptop. He's sending the photo onto his blog from his camera, watching the photo download with anticipation. "I don't know Jazz. I ignore stuff like that."

"Well, maybe you should. You have yet to learn how important it is to pay attention to the things around you in this city. Danger is around every corner. Just this afternoon, someone tried to steal my phone!"

Danny's head jerks up. "They what?"

"I know! I was just minding my business reading a fascinating article on child development in the tablet era when some thug walked right up to me with a gun. I would have handled it trust me, his stance was pathetic at best, but Red Hood came to my rescue." Here Jazz's face reddness and Danny has a moment to wonder if he could take Red Hood in a fight. Maybe. He's sure he would win but it would be a close call.

He would do it, too, anything to keep no good punks away from his sister.

Jazz sees the face his making and rolls her eyes. "What? I'm allowed to drool over boys every once in a while. Just like you do."

"I do not droll!" Danny shouts offended.

Jazz gestures to the laptop screen, uploading the photo onto his blog. "Sure. And you just happen to stare at Red Robin's photos for the artistic application."

"I-I do! I took them!" Danny shutters, watching his sister's face break into a teasing smile. He feels his own lips pull upwards against his will and suddenly, they are laughing. It's strange, how at ease they both feel here.

They were never this carefree back at their parent's home. The realization makes Danny feel slightly guilty for noticing- because it wasn't like his parents didn't love him- but there was always tension at home. Even before the accident, he knows now that it wasn't healthy.

Jazz must have felt the change too, because before while she was racing towards adulthood- always strung so tight and nervous- she missed out on being a typical teen. Danny never had a chance to sit down with her and gush about boys, nor had she ever prioritized making friends.

Sure, Jazz was pretty, brilliant, and basically the pride of Casper High, but Danny never noticed she had no friends. She never hung out with people at the mall, she never got invited to go out, and she never texted funny memes to others back home.

In Amity, people knew of and respected her, but no one was close to Jazz. Maybe that's why she got so excited to be part of Team Phantom when she first found out.

Jazz Fenton may have been the intelligent sibling, but Danny Fenton was the social one, leaving her feeling crippling lonely while he had his two best friends.

He knows that now.

"Speaking about drolling over boys- how's Jason?" Danny teases just as Jazz's phone buzzes with a new message. The notification displays Jason's shy smile before Jazz yanks it protectively close to her face.

Jason Peter is someone Danny can approve of instead of that thug Red Hood. Jason and Jazz met at one of their classes at the beginning of the semester when Jazz was still unused to the city. She always went to class ten minutes before it started and read to pass the time instead of speaking to her college mates.

She had been reading Pride and Prejudice- one of the fancy covers kind Vlad had gotten her- and Jason had practically teleported to her table gushing about the artwork. Then, when he sat down, the two broke into a healthy debate about the characters.

Jazz admitted to him later that she was surprised by a man in a leather jacket with a white streak in his hair and multiple piercings in his ear having such in-depth character analysis of her beloved novel.

They've been hanging out ever since.

"He is fine, thank you." She huffs, typing a response to the text. Danny places his chin on his hand, smiling as her eyes soften. "He asked me to see a play this Friday. Or, well, he said he was going to one and wanted to know if I wanted to come along."

Danny perks up. "Like a date?"

"I don't know. Maybe?" Jazz nervously plays with her hair. "He made it sound like we were just hanging out. Do you think he meant it like a date?"

"It could be either way if he didn't clarify," Danny admits, then smiles to settle her sudden anxiety. She always doubted herself about spending time with people outside the family or Team Phantom. Doubts that were the result of her upbringing. "But why don't we go shopping tomorrow? Get you a nice dress, and I'll do your make-up. Once we're done, he'll wish it was a date!"

Jazz's smile may be wobbly, but it was there, and it was real. They chat more about the play and what she should wear. Danny forgoes any black, claiming it's too fancy for a first date, and trades ideas for her outfit.

Neither notices that the photo has finished uploading or that people are already commenting and losing their minds.

Nor did they notice a particular hacker with the handle- Oracle- attempting to break into his computer only to be booted out by Technus' system. It flings Oracle to the closest computer system that is close to his.

Somewhere deep underground under a particular mansion. Oracle panics, thinking that Phantom piggyback rides her signal to the cave and quickly shuts everything down. She bites her lip before picking up her personal phone and calling Bruce.

"We have a problem."

Else where Tim is helping Dick with an out-of-control gang. He isn't aware that a photo of him has just circulated through Gotham nor of the sudden new simps awaiting him.

(Lady Gotham laughs)

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny and The Fan Blog #Part 2 #Dead tired #anger management #Danny is unware of anything always #Also he scared Babs into thinking he knows about the cave #He's just vibing with sister #Jason is unaware the pretty red head is part of the Blog

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b0rderl1neb1tch · 19 days

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50 Things I Do Instead Of Eating

1. Reading

2. Painting nails

3. Waxing/Shaving (weird but keeps me busy?)

4. Doing my eyebrows

5. Playing games

6. Sleeping

7. Watching podcasts

8. Going on a walk

9. Doing exercise

10. Looking at meanspo/thinspo

11. Learning dances

12. Listening to a whole album

13. Learning historic facts

14. Watching a season of a show

15. Studying

16. Cleaning

17. Showering

18. Doing self care

19. Knitting/Crafts

20. Sorting out closet/clothes

21. Rearranging furniture

22. Making new outfits to wear

23. Watching TikToks

24. Go to the park

25. Drinking a ton of water/tea

26. Watch a show like "My 600 lbs life" or "Supersize vs. Superskinny"

27. Write in a journal

28. Write a story

29. Learn a song on your musical instrument

30. Reorganize your desk

31. Call a friend

32. Smell something super rancid

33. Drink super salty water or something that will make you sick

34. Plan meals in advance

35. Plan your week out (non-food related)

36. Window shop that prize you're going to get once you hit x weight

37. Learn how to play a musical instrument

38. Take apart something and learn how to put it together again (pencil, fan, etc.)

39. Do some art

40. Binge through social medias

41. Find a new way to style your hair

42. Find a new way to do your makeup

43. Brush your teeth

44. Look in a mirror and squeeze the fat you want gone

45. Try to solve a puzzle

46. Try a new phone game

47. Reorganize/Redecorate your phone

48. Reorganize/Redecorate your computer/tablet

49. Solve a rubix cube

50. Chew on some ice

#actually borderline #low cal diet #tw ana bløg #tw ed ana #diet #ed but not ed sheeran #ed dieta #tw 3d vent #tw ana rant #tw sh related #@tw edd #skinnyyy #tw skipping meals #light as a feather

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eyrieofsynapses · 9 months

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why Aurora's art is genius

It's break for me, and I've been meaning to sit down and read the Aurora webcomic (https://comicaurora.com/, @comicaurora on Tumblr) for quite a bit. So I did that over the last few days.

And… y'know. I can't actually say "I should've read this earlier," because otherwise I would've been up at 2:30-3am when I had responsibilities in the morning and I couldn't have properly enjoyed it, but. Holy shit guys THIS COMIC.

I intended to just do a generalized "hello this is all the things I love about this story," and I wrote a paragraph or two about art style. …and then another. And another. And I realized I needed to actually reference things so I would stop being too vague. I was reading the comic on my tablet or phone, because I wanted to stay curled up in my chair, but I type at a big monitor and so I saw more details… aaaaaand it turned into its own giant-ass post.

SO. Enjoy a few thousand words of me nerding out about this insanely cool art style and how fucking gorgeous this comic is? (There are screenshots, I promise it isn't just a wall of text.) In my defense, I just spent two semesters in graphic design classes focusing on the Adobe Suite, so… I get to be a nerd about pretty things…???

All positive feedback btw! No downers here. <3

---

I cannot emphasize enough how much I love the beautiful, simple stylistic method of drawing characters and figures. It is absolutely stunning and effortless and utterly graceful—it is so hard to capture the sheer beauty and fluidity of the human form in such a fashion. Even a simple outline of a character feels dynamic! It's gorgeous!

Though I do have a love-hate relationship with this, because my artistic side looks at that lovely simplicity, goes "I CAN DO THAT!" and then I sit down and go to the paper and realize that no, in fact, I cannot do that yet, because that simplicity is born of a hell of a lot of practice and understanding of bodies and actually is really hard to do. It's a very developed style that only looks simple because the artist knows what they're doing. The human body is hard to pull off, and this comic does so beautifully and makes it look effortless.

Also: line weight line weight line weight. It's especially important in simplified shapes and figures like this, and hoo boy is it used excellently. It's especially apparent the newer the pages get—I love watching that improvement over time—but with simpler figures and lines, you get nice light lines to emphasize both smaller details, like in the draping of clothing and the curls of hair—which, hello, yes—and thicker lines to emphasize bigger and more important details and silhouettes. It's the sort of thing that's essential to most illustrations, but I wanted to make a note of it because it's so vital to this art style.

THE USE OF LAYER BLENDING MODES OH MY GODS. (...uhhh, apologies to the people who don't know what that means, it's a digital art program thing? This article explains it for beginners.)

Bear with me, I just finished my second Photoshop course, I spent months and months working on projects with this shit so I see the genius use of Screen and/or its siblings (of which there are many—if I say "Screen" here, assume I mean the entire umbrella of Screen blending modes and possibly Overlay) and go nuts, but seriously it's so clever and also fucking gorgeous:

Firstly: the use of screened-on sound effect words over an action? A "CRACK" written over a branch and then put on Screen in glowy green so that it's subtle enough that it doesn't disrupt the visual flow, but still sticks out enough to make itself heard? Little "scritches" that are transparent where they're laid on without outlines to emphasize the sound without disrupting the underlying image? FUCK YES. I haven't seen this done literally anywhere else—granted, I haven't read a massive amount of comics, but I've read enough—and it is so clever and I adore it. Examples:

Secondly: The beautiful lighting effects. The curling leaves, all the magic, the various glowing eyes, the fog, the way it's all so vividly colored but doesn't burn your eyeballs out—a balance that's way harder to achieve than you'd think—and the soft glows around them, eeeee it's so pretty so pretty SO PRETTY. Not sure if some of these are Outer/Inner Glow/Shadow layer effects or if it's entirely hand-drawn, but major kudos either way; I can see the beautiful use of blending modes and I SALUTE YOUR GENIUS.

I keep looking at some of this stuff and go "is that a layer effect or is it done by hand?" Because you can make some similar things with the Satin layer effect in Photoshop (I don't know if other programs have this? I'm gonna have to find out since I won't have access to PS for much longer ;-;) that resembles some of the swirly inner bits on some of the lit effects, but I'm not sure if it is that or not. Or you could mask over textures? There's... many ways to do it.

If done by hand: oh my gods the patience, how. If done with layer effects: really clever work that knows how to stop said effects from looking wonky, because ugh those things get temperamental. If done with a layer of texture that's been masked over: very, very good masking work. No matter the method, pretty shimmers and swirly bits inside the bigger pretty swirls!

Next: The way color contrast is used! I will never be over the glowy green-on-black Primordial Life vibes when Alinua gets dropped into that… unconscious space?? with Life, for example, and the sharp contrast of vines and crack and branches and leaves against pitch black is just visually stunning. The way the roots sink into the ground and the three-dimensional sensation of it is particularly badass here:

Friggin. How does this imply depth like that. HOW. IT'S SO FREAKING COOL.

A huge point here is also color language and use! Everybody has their own particular shade, generally matching their eyes, magic, and personality, and I adore how this is used to make it clear who's talking or who's doing an action. That was especially apparent to me with Dainix and Falst in the caves—their colors are both fairly warm, but quite distinct, and I love how this clarifies who's doing what in panels with a lot of action from both of them. There is a particular bit that stuck out to me, so I dug up the panels (see this page and the following one https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-30/):

(Gods it looks even prettier now that I put it against a plain background. Also, appreciation to Falst for managing a bridal-carry midair, damn.)

The way that their colors MERGE here! And the immense attention to detail in doing so—Dainix is higher up than Falst is in the first panel, so Dainix's orange fades into Falst's orange at the base. The next panel has gold up top and orange on bottom; we can't really tell in that panel where each of them are, but that's carried over to the next panel—

—where we now see that Falst's position is raised above Dainix's due to the way he's carrying him. (Points for continuity!) And, of course, we see the little "huffs" flowing from orange to yellow over their heads (where Dainix's head is higher than Falst's) to merge the sound of their breathing, which is absurdly clever because it emphasizes to the viewer how we hear two sets of huffing overlaying each other, not one. Absolutely brilliant.

(A few other notes of appreciation to that panel: beautiful glows around them, the sparks, the jagged silhouette of the spider legs, the lovely colors that have no right to make the area around a spider corpse that pretty, the excellent texturing on the cave walls plus perspective, the way Falst's movements imply Dainix's hefty weight, the natural posing of the characters, their on-point expressions that convey exactly how fuckin terrifying everything is right now, the slight glows to their eyes, and also they're just handsome boys <3)

Next up: Rain!!!! So well done! It's subtle enough that it never ever disrupts the impact of the focal point, but evident enough you can tell! And more importantly: THE MIST OFF THE CHARACTERS. Rain does this irl, it has that little vapor that comes off you and makes that little misty effect that plays with lighting, it's so cool-looking and here it's used to such pretty effect!

One of the panel captions says something about it blurring out all the injuries on the characters but like THAT AIN'T TOO BIG OF A PROBLEM when it gets across the environmental vibes, and also that'd be how it would look in real life too so like… outside viewer's angle is the same as the characters', mostly? my point is: that's the environment!!! that's the vibes, that's the feel! It gets it across and it does so in the most pretty way possible!

And another thing re: rain, the use of it to establish perspective, particularly in panels like this—

—where we can tell we're looking down at Tynan due to the perspective on the rain and where it's pointing. Excellent. (Also, kudos for looking down and emphasizing how Tynan's losing his advantage—lovely use of visual storytelling.)

Additionally, the misting here:

We see it most heavily in the leftmost panel, where it's quite foggy as you would expect in a rainstorm, especially in an environment with a lot of heat, but it's also lightly powdered on in the following two panels and tends to follow light sources, which makes complete sense given how light bounces off particles in the air.

A major point of strength in these too is a thorough understanding of lighting, like rim lighting, the various hues and shades, and an intricate understanding of how light bounces off surfaces even when they're in shadow (we'll see a faint glow in spots where characters are half in shadow, but that's how it would work in real life, because of how light bounces around).

Bringing some of these points together: the fluidity of the lines in magic, and the way simple glowing lines are used to emphasize motion and the magic itself, is deeply clever. I'm basically pulling at random from panels and there's definitely even better examples, but here's one (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-16-33/):

First panel, listed in numbers because these build on each other:

The tension of the lines in Tess's magic here. This works on a couple levels: first, the way she's holding her fists, as if she's pulling a rope taut.

The way there's one primary line, emphasizing the rope feeling, accompanied by smaller ones.

The additional lines starbursting around her hands, to indicate the energy crackling in her hands and how she's doing a good bit more than just holding it. (That combined with the fists suggests some tension to the magic, too.) Also the variations in brightness, a feature you'll find in actual lightning. :D Additional kudos for how the lightning sparks and breaks off the metal of the sword.

A handful of miscellaneous notes on the second panel:

The reflection of the flames in Erin's typically dark blue eyes (which bears a remarkable resemblance to Dainix, incidentally—almost a thematic sort of parallel given Erin's using the same magic Dainix specializes in?)

The flowing of fabric in the wind and associated variation in the lineart

The way Erin's tattoos interact with the fire he's pulling to his hand

The way the rain overlays some of the fainter areas of fire (attention! to! detail! hell yeah!)

I could go on. I won't because this is a lot of writing already.

Third panel gets paragraphs, not bullets:

Erin's giant-ass "FWOOM" of fire there, and the way the outline of the word is puffy-edged and gradated to feel almost three-dimensional, plus once again using Screen or a variation on it so that the stars show up in the background. All this against that stunning plume of fire, which ripples and sparks so gorgeously, and the ending "om" of the onomatopoeia is emphasized incredibly brightly against that, adding to the punch of it and making the plume feel even brighter.

Also, once again, rain helping establish perspective, especially in how it's very angular in the left side of the panel and then slowly becomes more like a point to the right to indicate it's falling directly down on the viewer. Add in the bright, beautiful glow effects, fainter but no less important black lines beneath them to emphasize the sky and smoke and the like, and the stunningly beautiful lighting and gradated glows surrounding Erin plus the lightning jagging up at him from below, and you get one hell of an impactful panel right there. (And there is definitely more in there I could break down, this is just a lot already.)

And in general: The colors in this? Incredible. The blues and purples and oranges and golds compliment so well, and it's all so rich.

Like, seriously, just throughout the whole comic, the use of gradients, blending modes, color balance and hues, all the things, all the things, it makes for the most beautiful effects and glows and such a rich environment. There's a very distinct style to this comic in its simplified backgrounds (which I recognize are done partly because it's way easier and also backgrounds are so time-consuming dear gods but lemme say this) and vivid, smoothly drawn characters; the simplicity lets them come to the front and gives room for those beautiful, richly saturated focal points, letting the stylized designs of the magic and characters shine. The use of distinct silhouettes is insanely good. Honestly, complex backgrounds might run the risk of making everything too visually busy in this case. It's just, augh, so GORGEOUS.

Another bit, take a look at this page (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-15-28/):

It's not quite as evident here as it is in the next page, but this one does some other fun things so I'm grabbing it. Points:

Once again, using different colors to represent different character actions. The "WHAM" of Kendal hitting the ground is caused by Dainix's force, so it's orange (and kudos for doubling the word over to add a shake effect). But we see blue layered underneath, which could be an environmental choice, but might also be because it's Kendal, whose color is blue.

And speaking off, take a look at the right-most panel on top, where Kendal grabs the spear: his motion is, again, illustrated in bright blue, versus the atmospheric screened-on orange lines that point toward him around the whole panel (I'm sure these have a name, I think they might be more of a manga thing though and the only experience I have in manga is reading a bit of Fullmetal Alchemist). Those lines emphasize the weight of the spear being shoved at him, and their color tells us Dainix is responsible for it.

One of my all-time favorite effects in this comic is the way cracks manifest across Dainix's body to represent when he starts to lose control; it is utterly gorgeous and wonderfully thematic. These are more evident in the page before and after this one, but you get a decent idea here. I love the way they glow softly, the way the fire juuuust flickers through at the start and then becomes more evident over time, and the cracks feel so realistic, like his skin is made of pottery. Additional points for how fire begins to creep into his hair.

A small detail that's generally consistent across the comic, but which I want to make note of here because you can see it pretty well: Kendal's eyes glow about the same as the jewel in his sword, mirroring his connection to said sword and calling back to how the jewel became Vash's eye temporarily and thus was once Kendal's eye. You can always see this connection (though there might be some spots where this also changes in a symbolic manner; I went through it quickly on the first time around, so I'll pay more attention when I inevitably reread this), where Kendal's always got that little shine of blue in his eyes the same as the jewel. It's a beautiful visual parallel that encourages the reader to subconsciously link them together, especially since the lines used to illustrate character movements typically mirror their eye color. It's an extension of Kendal.

Did I mention how ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL the colors in this are?

Also, the mythological/legend-type scenes are illustrated in familiar style often used for that type of story, a simple and heavily symbolic two-dimensional cave-painting-like look. They are absolutely beautiful on many levels, employing simple, lovely gradients, slightly rougher and thicker lineart that is nonetheless smoothly beautiful, and working with clear silhouettes (a major strength of this art style, but also a strength in the comic overall). But in particular, I wanted to call attention to a particular thing (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-12-4/):

The flowing symbolic lineart surrounding each character. This is actually quite consistent across characters—see also Life's typical lines and how they curl:

What's particularly interesting here is how these symbols are often similar, but not the same. Vash's lines are always smooth, clean curls, often playing off each other and echoing one another like ripples in a pond. You'd think they'd look too similar to Life's—but they don't. Life's curl like vines, and they remain connected; where one curve might echo another but exist entirely detached from each other in Vash's, Life's lines still remain wound together, because vines are continuous and don't float around. :P

Tahraim's are less continuous, often breaking up with significantly smaller bits and pieces floating around like—of course—sparks, and come to sharper points. These are also constants: we see the vines repeated over and over in Alinua's dreams of Life, and the echoing ripples of Vash are consistent wherever we encounter him. Kendal's dream of the ghost citizens of the city of Vash in the last few chapters is filled with these rippling, echoing patterns, to beautiful effect (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-14/):

They ripple and spiral, often in long, sinuous curves, with smooth elegance. It reminds me a great deal of images of space and sine waves and the like. This establishes a definite feel to these different characters and their magic. And the thing is, that's not something that had to be done—the colors are good at emphasizing who's who. But it was done, and it adds a whole other dimension to the story. Whenever you're in a deity's domain, you know whose it is no matter the color.

Regarding that shape language, I wanted to make another note, too—Vash is sometimes described as chaotic and doing what he likes, which is interesting to me, because smooth, elegant curves and the color blue aren't generally associated with chaos. So while Vash might behave like that on the surface, I'm guessing he's got a lot more going on underneath; he's probably much more intentional in his actions than you'd think at a glance, and he is certainly quite caring with his city. The other thing is that this suits Kendal perfectly. He's a paragon character; he is kind, virtuous, and self-sacrificing, and often we see him aiming to calm others and keep them safe. Blue is such a good color for him. There is… probably more to this, but I'm not deep enough in yet to say.

And here's the thing: I'm only scratching the surface. There is so much more here I'm not covering (color palettes! outfits! character design! environment! the deities! so much more!) and a lot more I can't cover, because I don't have the experience; this is me as a hobbyist artist who happened to take a couple design classes because I wanted to. The art style to this comic is so clever and creative and beautiful, though, I just had to go off about it. <3

...brownie points for getting all the way down here? Have a cookie.

#aurora comic #aurora webcomic #comicaurora #art analysis #...I hope those are the right tags???#new fandom new tagging practices to learn ig #much thanks for something to read while I try to rest my wrists. carpal tunnel BAD. (ignore that I wrote this I've got braces ok it's fine)#anyway! I HAVE. MANY MORE THOUGHTS. ON THE STORY ITSELF. THIS LOVELY STORY #also a collection of reactions to a chunk of the comic before I hit the point where I was too busy reading to write anything down #idk how to format those tho #...yeet them into one post...???#eh I usually don't go off this much these days but this seems like a smaller tight-knit fandom so... might as well help build it?#and I have a little more time thanks to break so #oh yes also shoutout to my insanely awesome professor for teaching me all the technical stuff from this he is LOVELY #made an incredibly complex program into something comprehensible <3 #synapse talks

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houseofhyde · 9 days

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“aemond, i’m out shopping…”

pairing. modern!aegon targaryen x fem!reader synopsis. ...but you’re under aegon and he’s not stopping. ( read part one here ) warnings. modern au, best friend's brother!aegon, drummer!aegon, fuckbuddy!aegon, references to alcohol & drug usage, smut ( aegon is giving switch vibes ngl, f oral, fingering, m masturbation, pussy pronouns bc aegon straight up talks to it like it's a sentient being independent of the reader, exhibitionism, hair pulling, sweat kink?, spit as lubrication, cum tasting, one single slap, mentions of sex toys & tribute pictures, dubcon but only bc the reader protests even though she doesn't mean it ) word count. 5.2k hyde’s input. my modus operandi is making a silly smut fic ( that involves aegon or aemond fucking around with their brother's love interest ) and then ( quite some time later ) writing a part 2 that accidentally trips and falls into a whole load of plot that simply must be further explored, and then oh no! a series is born! the horrors! read on ao3.

Aegon Targaryen is no stranger to waking up naked in a stranger’s bed.

It’s an occurrence that’s marked his formative years, truly. Drinking hard, partying late. Crashing harder, waking later. Last night's clothes strewn across the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen floors, an arm gone numb with the weight of the head that rests upon it. Hair of black, blonde, brown, red, blue tangled on the pillow next to his own. He’s never been picky with who he takes to bed. A warm body is a warm body, and Aegon Targaryen is but a creature of cold blood searching for some reprieve.

This, however, is new to him.

Awakening to unfamiliar walls still dressed in last night’s clothes and laying completely alone. There’s a pounding in his head that beats at his skull, harder than his foot kicks a bass drum. The smell of cheap liquor sticks to his skin — vodka, or tequila, or rum; he can’t pinpoint which he drank more of. The spot next to him is empty, cold to the touch as a hand stretches across the mattress, searching for some sign of life.

Last night is a blur of nicotine in his lungs, glitter in his hair, and far too many broken drum sticks. He needs to stop snapping them over his knee at the end of every solo. The band had been playing at some new bar, that much he does remember. Then, their set finished, and the drinks began to flow, and more than once he was called into the bathroom for a sniff of snow.

When things can’t get worse, they often do.The scream of an alarm clock, somewhere to the left of him and completely out of arm’s reach. With a groan and a grimace, Aegon’s rolling over, tangling himself in floral sheets and, there he finds the damn noise-maker, sitting pretty on a nightstand, living in the space between a pile of well-read books and a scented candle burnt down three quarters of the jar it lives in. An ashtray filled with trinkets, and earrings, and necklaces, and a single cigarette butt, sits right next to a phone, a glass of water, and two unlabelled white pills, one simple note attached.

Went 4 run. Don’t burn down apartment.

Aegon can’t even get offended by the comment. He once set Helaena’s carpet on fire, with nothing but a bottle of nail polish remover, a box of matches, and a whole lot of morbid curiosity. More than once, he’s left a pot on the stove and come back to find flames engulfing it. In a world of pyromaniacs, Aegon is a pyro-misfortunate, too typically present when things go up in flames — literally or figuratively.

Right now, the only fire is in his head, and the safety of water lies within a glass. His fingers scramble along the bedside table, grasping at straws to pick up the two pills. As one presses into the palm of his hand, the other slips off the edge. He tries to catch it as it falls. It has the opposite effect, the pill he’s captured slipping through the crack between his fingers and crashing against the floor, exploding in a powder of white. The other tablet is in no better state.

He could cry. He almost does, as he throws the upper half of his body off the bed, dangling down to scrape up the salvageable remnants of his pain relief.

“Every time I think you can’t get more pathetic, you prove me wrong.”

The voice of Aegon’s salvation.

You appear to him, an angel in the doorway. Upside down, clad in a sports bra, running shorts, and mismatching socks, your skin glistening with its own sweat, backlit by the unforgiving shine of an afternoon sun. And it’s all a hallucination, no doubt, because Aegon has not so much as heard from — never mind seen — you.

Not since that last Sunday you’d spent kneeling on his van floor.

He thought your words were nothing but a bluff. This can’t happen again. It was a bluff every other time, a silly thing to comfort the part of your conscience that feels it owes Aemond some kind of unwarranted loyalty, only to then forget about it the next time his text buzzes in, a misspelt nmeed you, or lemmesee you 2moro, or ur pxssy my mouth pls? lighting up the screen. Nearly a month since he watched you slip out his van door, it seems the only way to see you is in a come-down, hungover state of delirium.

But you’re moving towards him, and crouching down to grasp the tablets he’s left to perish, and sitting him up right, leaving his limp body to collapse back against the bed — your bed? A hand racks itself through his disjointed hair, a momentarily soothing touch, until it tightens into a fist and tugs at his roots, angling his head till his blues meet your eyes. A moan slips its way past Aegon’s lips, the delicious burn at his scalp waking his easily aroused mind.

“Look at you,” you practically spit your disgust at him, but the pity in your stare lessens the blows of your anger-laced voice. Your voice, oh how he’s missed it. “There’s a little more life in those eyes than last night, but, god, you look like shit.”

“Hmm, love it when you degrade me, baby,” he says, a shit-eating grin stretching his lips. “Gets me so hard.”

You recoil within an instant, hands off him like he’s a flaming ball of fire and you’re a barrel of oil, impending doom awaiting when both casualties collide. Aegon chases after you, however, and so you don’t make it far, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you down into the sheets with him.

Twisted limbs, wrinkled sheets. You weakly thrash against his hold, his arms tighten around you. Burrowing itself in the crevice where neck kisses shoulder, Aegon’s face seeks the refuge of darkness and burrows itself in the smell of skin, your skin.

“Ew, Aegon!” A cry from above, his warm tongue slivering out the cavern of his mouth and dragging itself along a patch of sweat stained skin. Salty, sweet, musky. Everything he likes, everything you. “Let me go, I’m all- You’re making me sweat all over my sheets!”

“Well, that’s no fun,” the pout practically drips off his voice, giving away his expression as if you can’t already feel it pressed right up against your neck. Mind of their own, his hips grind against the leg trapped between his, the swell of his waking cock slowly making itself known. “I’d rather make you sweat, without the s.”

“Weat,” the cooling damp of your skin soothes his burning headache, the perfect remedy to last night’s cocktail of bad choices. Undulating hips, setting an unsteady rhythm that nurtures the hardness between his thighs, feeds its growing hunger slowly. Too slowly. Too long since Aegon last felt you, since Aegon last felt anything. “You’re saying you want to make me weat.”

“Wet. Sweat without the s,” seizing the opportunity, he takes it upon himself to grab a hold of control, flipping you onto your back with a lack of elegance that can only be justified by his hungover state. With your earlier protests still echoing in his mind, you seem to have no issue spreading your legs and making a space for him between them, inviting the Targaryen boy to drape himself over you, face in neck, crotch against crotch, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. “Phonetically.”

“Wow, that’s a big word for you, Aegon!” Despite your grinning mouth and facetious words, deft fingers slip into the crack between your bodies and work at the buckle of his belt, worn leather leaving speckles of itself on your fingertips. “Did Aemond teach you it?”

“Ha, ha.” His hands pinch at your side, an unseen eye-roll at the mention of his younger brother. Perfect Aemond, always finding a way to make things about himself, even when he’s not in the room. The cut feels a little deeper when you’re involved, the only thing of Aemond’s that Aegon has ever dared try take for himself, a sick prize in the depths of his perverted mind. “Who needs big words when you have a big coc-”

The doorbell rings and interrupts him.

Both of you freeze, hands burrowed in hair and fingers tracing over flesh. Aegon’s quick to recover, dragging his attention back to the shape you make up beneath him, a sight that brings him physical ache. He lets his gaze wander over the length of your torso, over the slopes and curves and dips of your body, and hooks his thumbs under either side of your nylon shorts.

“Ignore it,” he says, relishing in how easily the tenseness in you melts away as your eyes find his again, stiff muscles melting as easily as candle wax.

Layers of clothing shed away, his liquor-stained shirt now a pile of cotton by the door, your shorts tossed blindly over his shoulder. He sinks back down, your own limbs following suit, folding beneath his on-coming body. Mouths find one another, like a moth finds a flame, and refuse to part.

Aegon’s missed you. He won’t say it, but he feels it. In every brush of his tongue against your own, and every spine-tingling touch your hands drag over his naked back, and every breath he pulls in stained with the smell of your shampoo. It’s too overwhelming to think of, and so he forces himself to focus on a far more pressing matter: his fingers dipping beneath the waistline of your panties.

As thumb meets navel, a phone screen lights up on the bedside table.

He tries, so desperately, to chase your mouth as your head flees, and one less hand, five less fingers touch his skin, reaching out to grasp your buzzing phone, the name on the screen rousing contempt within him.

“Don’t answer,” he’s pleading, even as he watches your thumb swipe up on the green. “Please, don’t.”

Your eyes refuse to meet his own, you put the phone to your ear.

“Aemond,” a sucker punch to the gut, a name that reminds him of the pounding in his head. Aegon recoils from you, resting back on his haunches, the pathway to your thighs a trail laid out before him. “Hi, sorry.”

He wants to admit defeat. Crawl off your bed, scoop up his shirt, lace up his boots — wherever they are. Spare not even a fleeting glance as he takes his leave, let you stay focused on the brother that clearly owns more of your attention than him. And the worst thing is, Aegon cannot pretend this feeling is rational.

Aemond is your friend, your best friend. The one you call when you need saving, the one who pulls the weight of your textbooks out of your arms and into his own, the one who wins a smile out of you like it’s as easy as breathing air. Whereas Aegon can’t even claim he’s losing the race to his little brother, because he’s not even on the same track.

Unfortunately, defeat just isn’t in his nature.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m,” his hand on your knee, you don’t even flinch. Still won’t even look at him. The hand smooths up your thigh, a light squeeze of flesh as it reaches halfway. “Not in. Aemond, I’m out shopping.”

He snorts back a laugh and, finally, your eyes are on him. Wide, panicked, and pleading for silence.

Aegon ignores it.

Fingers dance up the expanse of your thigh, a pleasant hum rumbling out his chest at the warmth of your skin. He can hear his brother on the other end of the line, unintelligible words blending with the familiar sound of his voice. He can almost picture Aemond, a wrinkle free shirt and tailored trousers, looking up at your building from the entrance, phone pressed to his ear and frown creasing his forehead. The image stays fresh in his mind as his fingers smooth over the soft skin that melts your thighs into the curve of your hips, and sneak their way under the elastic band of your panties.

He pulls at it and releases, watches the way it snaps back down onto your skin. A foot weakly kicks at his side, that stare of yours growing deadlier.

“Are you okay? What happened?” God, the way you want to comfort Aemond, it makes him sick. Or maybe that’s just his hangover. Yeah, that makes more sense.

All is forgotten, for a moment, as he traces over the slope of your mound, finger flexing to press against your clit, hidden out of sight beneath damp cotton. You try to play it cool, like his touch doesn’t faze you, but Aegon’s too quick to notice the hitch in your breath, the way you seem to take a moment too long to reply to his brother.

“Can’t you try to speak with your professor about it, Aim?”

The nickname you speak has Aegon laughing again, a facetious chuckle he presses into your knee, spine curved as he bends down to kiss it. Another kick, this one hits his ribs. Like a saddled horse, it spurs him on, tells him to move faster, touch you more.

It’s hard to pick which sight gets him harder: the peeling back of your panties to reveal the mouthwatering view of your cunt, shining with slick and inviting him to dive right in, or the way your faux composure crumbles, for an instance, back arching reflexively and teeth pressing down against the pillow of your bottom lip, your eyes glued right on his.

“That’s bullshit,” you seem to remember Aemond’s still there, ranting along his own woes in your ear. Again, Aegon wonders if he’s outside. “You’re literally the top student in your year. Hell, you’re probably one of the top students on our whole campus.”

Aegon can’t even disagree. Resident brainiac, the younger Targaryen has always been the overachieving student, winning every useless award and wearing every golden medal. And maybe, were you not two feet below him, dripping wet in nothing but a sports bra, he’d be interested in hearing where this conversation goes, find out what exactly his do-no-wrong brother has fucked up enough not even his flawless grades can save him. His finger is dipping into you before he can even let the thought repeat itself.

“My poor girl,” he mutters aloud, eyes glued on the pretty sight between your legs, hypnotised with how the digit disappears into your pussy, all the way in till knuckles kiss the pillowy soft lips. “So tight. Has mummy not been taking proper care of you, hm? Not letting someone stretch you out, fuck you real good like you deserve?”

“Would you shut up?” You hiss from the pillows, interrupting his reunion with his best friend. He curls his finger up, gently, pressing into the spongy wall of your cunt, just to delight in how easily the animosity flees your eyes as they roll back. Only to shoot wide open again, pressing the phone tighter against your ear. “Sorry, that wasn’t aimed at you! There’s- There was just some creep harassing me about the queue. Yes, I’m okay. No, you don’t have to come get me.”

“This is a private conversation,” Aegon’s free hand pinches the skin of your thigh, that devilish grin of his unwithering as he watches the subtle grind your hips give, fucking his finger deeper into the heat of your cunt. Even in anger, you want him. “Think I need to give her a present, something to keep her nice and stuffed,” he draws the word out, slipping a second finger into you.

You squirm away, for a moment, but his hand chases after you and you’re giving right in, at his mercy, one hand clutching the sheets, the other keeping the phone pressed tight against your ear. Two pumps of his fore and middle finger, until he lets them drift apart, a gentle stretch to your clenching walls.

“Or is my baby more of a Rose toy kind of girl, huh?” Whether on purpose or on instinct, words fall louder each time he opens his mouth. The very same mouth that’s leaning down to meet you in a gasp-worthy kiss, lips pressing sweetly against the throb of your clit, tongue coming out to play in a flurry of three kitten licks, all the while he works his wrist into a dull ache, each thrust forcing his fingers deeper than the last. “Something to soothe this little clit and something to fuck this tight pussy, is that what she needs?”

The hand on the mattress finds his hair, a harsh tug that has him parting with a few strands. He doesn’t care. In fact, he hopes the near-white locks get lost in your sheets if only to be found by a curious Aemond next time he can’t be bothered masking his way home and crashes at your place. What he wouldn't give to see the look on his brother’s face, holding up the hair to see it’s not even half the length of his well-groomed, pin-straight hair.

You’re talking again, doing your best to keep your voice neutral and your breathing even, hand still tangled in Aegon. He half expects you to pull again, kick him again. Tell him to focus on getting off of you, instead of getting you off. But you don’t do that. No, actually, you’re pulling him closer, keeping his mouth pressed to your soft skin, making sure his tongue continues to dance along the nerve-buzzing runway of your cunt, lapping up the taste of you till he’s sure it’s going to seep into his DNA, alter his genetic make-up so you’ll always be a part of him, even when you’re apart from him.

The throb between his own legs is growing, pulsing your name in morse code. As much as he wants the sweet release of flipping you over, arching your back, and feeling your walls clench around the girth of his cock, he’s too attached to the taste of your skin, head burrowing itself deeper, nose smushed against your clit as the tip of his tongue knocks at your slit, soaked fingers spreading your lips open. His own desire will need to find a different method of salvation.

A free hand, switching between gripping at your waist and squeezing the meat of your thigh. It departs from your body with a muted hesitation, a momentary pause before it shrugs away his empty belt buckle and fishes out the lever to his zipper. A swift tug, his pants loosening their snug fit around his hips, leaving his fingers with the freedom to dip beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and grasp at his aching cock.

“Mhmm,” you almost moan, disguising it as an agreement to whatever his brother is saying to you now. In turn, Aegon lets himself give into it, moaning loud enough for the two of you, letting the sound vibrate into your soaked cunt. “Sorry, repeat that, I- I can’t hear you.”

Shameless as he’s always been, he lets his cock spring free from the confines of the nylon material, standing to attention and slapping against his lower stomach, the tip already dribbling with pre-cum.

“See how much I’ve missed her, baby?” This time, he’s talking to you, lips in a wicked grin, shining with your own wetness. Brushing dry fingers over the mess he’s made between your thighs, a mix of spit and arousal, he relishes in watching how easily you get his fingers soaked. One curl of three fingers, pressing teasingly at that spot he knows too well, then he’s pulling away, extending his hand out towards you. “Spit. Now.”

Your eyes watch his, wide and impatient. The cool air must be soothing, he thinks, brushing against your now abandoned pussy, yet he doubts you find any solace in it. You’ve always been the kind who wants to melt, not freeze.

Phone angled away from you, Aemond’s voice still pouring out its speaker, you lean forward and let it drip: a string of spit.

Basking in the proper attention you’re finally giving him, Aegon wraps the newly soaked hand around his cock, letting the head of it slap back against his torso before he really puts the mixture of your fluids to use. Tight fisted, lips parted, he finds himself leaning back on his haunches, free hand splayed out behind him and holding the weight of himself as he puts on a show for you, stroking his cock. The bed beneath you both creaks as he lets himself fuck up slowly into his hand, a cacophony of pretty moans and desperate whines filling the space between you. Can Aemond hear? God, he hopes so.

The sight of your own hand snaking its way down between your legs is enough to remind him of his mission, the whole reason he’s not given into his want, his need to bury his cock inside you.

You barely brush over your clit before he’s slapping your hand away with a tut, a non-verbal protest as his lips reunite with your cunt, the hand between his own legs beginning a new pace, stroking over his hardness in rhythm with the strokes of his tongue and the speed of his fingers pumping into you.

Hang up, he wants to demand, but he’s got a mouthful of you and he intends to savour it until the end.

“Aemond,” your teeth bite down on your lip in sync with how his own drag over your clit, a silent warning against saying his brother’s name again. Next time, I’ll bite harder, he’s promising, only partially wishing you’ll tempt fate. “Shit, sorry, I have to go, I’m- yeah, next in line.”

Not even a goodbye.

Your thumb presses messily at the red button, the caller ID fading off your screen as the phone fades away into obscurity, left to get lost in the sheets as you give him what he’s been missing all alone, the sweet melody of moan, after moan, after moan falling from your lips, fingers pulling once more at the tresses of his hair.

“Hmm, d’ya think he can hear us, baby?” A nano-second, lips parted from your skin, his eyes flickering to the open window. “Think he’s out there waiting on your doorstep like a loyal hound, while you’re letting me get a taste of heaven?”

You’re close. He can see it, feel it, taste it, each stroke of his tongue greeted with a fresh wave of your sweetness. Both of you are a mess of unintelligible noises, hips rising off the mattress, and thrusting into open palms, sullying yourselves in the paint of pleasure.

He calls your name softly, whiplash against the intense feeling swelling within you.

“Let me see it,” he’s begging, no shame. Glassy eyed, hungover, pussy drunk, wishing you’d give him the one thing he’s been missing all these weeks without you. “Cum. Go on. Cum for me. Please.”

The chord of tension snaps and at last you’re an uncontrollable mess beneath him. Eyes rolling back, back arching up, thighs shaking with a force of nature, the prettiest cries of his name. He’s there with you, the whole time, tongue, and mouth, and hand coaxing you through the maze of lust that consumes you in your orgasm, guiding you safely to the end.

You don’t calm with ease, still trembling as he places one last chaste kiss against you before he lets his face rest on the warmth of your thigh, smearing the stains you’ve left upon him onto your own skin as he continues bucking into his hand, each thrust more desperate, erratic, pathetic than the last, chasing the fast-approaching end.

Until your hand tugs at his hair and he’s frozen beneath your gaze, mouth hanging open, chest heaving in shallow breaths, hips stuttering as he fails to fully control his urges, the tip of his cock blushing red with angry desire, desperate for release. He’s awaiting your dismissal of his own touch, waiting for you to replace it with yours, remind him of just how well you know his body. Your hand does meet his skin, but not how he expects.

You slap him.

A sting in his cheek in the wake of it, and a rush of blood to his groin, eyes rolling back for a split second. “Hmm, next time hit me harder. Promise I won’t break.”

“How could you do that?” You heave out, no doubt intending your voice to hold more power, but it’s weak, and breathy, and turning him on even more. “Aemond was- He could’ve- Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen again.”

“If it’s any consolation, you tried. Haven’t answered my texts in weeks,” he’s aware he sounds desperate. Because he is. Or is that just his hangover again? “Would think you’d died or something, if I didn’t have to hear your name come out of Aemond’s mouth everyday.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s the one in the wrong.”

A blanket of silence engulfs you both, heavy and uncomfortable over your sweaty bodies. His hand still sits tight around the base of his cock, begging for attention, but he can’t bring himself to move.

Not until he knows you’re okay.

“I’m sorry,” the shape of it is foreign on his tongue, scarcely said and never with a speck of honesty. “I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. I just- I guess I just thought if you remembered how I could treat you… thought if I could just make you feel good, you’d-” He cuts himself off, words hardly making sense in his own head.

You heave a sigh, smooth your hand down the side of his face that still stings. “You don’t just make me feel good. You make me feel better than anyone else, and that’s the problem. First man to touch me, and now all the others can’t compare.”

Aegon is a fiend for praise, so used to words of disappointment and looks of disgust. But then one day, he dove between a woman’s thighs and heard her calls of pleasure, listened as she praised his efforts, revered his good job, delighted in his skills upon the mattress. It’s no wonder he began to find solace in the pleasures of the flesh, the first and only thing he’s done right in his life.

“You let others touch you?” A silly thing to get hung up on, yet he can’t let it slip away. The hand around his cock skates forward, stroking slowly before smoothing over the sensitive tip with the palm of his hand.

You nod your head.

“Sometimes. Guys can get touchy at frat parties, but I’m sure you know all about that.” He doesn’t bother to negate it, he knows you know him too well. No doubt Aemond shared every anecdote of Aegon during his short-lived frat days. A hiss slips past his lips as he continues the slow caress of his aching length. You clear your throat. “Stop denying yourself. Just cum, it’s okay.”

Sometimes, he can follow orders.

Especially one like this, that leaves him reaching once more for the sweet relief of release, wave after wave of it rolling down his spine as his hand works himself to completion.

“Can I,” he stutters over a moan, cutting himself off and getting swept away in the rapid currents of reignited lust, each touch more frantic than the last.

You finish the thought for him. “Cum on me, Aegon.”

White, thick, hot. Rope after rope of his spoils spill down onto your naked skin, a painting so beautiful he almost wants to picture it and sell it on as modern art. It’s better than anything Aemond’s ever made with his easel and brush.

Time melts away into nothing, fading to obscurity as he floats on cloud nine, body weightless, mind rested. Tingles down his spine, up his thighs, on his face where you still touch him, thumb smoothing over his cheek.

A giggle pulls his mind back into his body.

“I told you this wouldn’t happen again, and now look at me!” Your tone is softer than earlier, even if your voice has regained its usual energy. “God, I just might be the biggest idiot.”

“Don’t say that. You’re smart,” you shoot a sceptical look his way, wanting to negate him, but he doubles down. “You are. Don’t forget I know your best friend, I hear all the shit you’re achieving on that campus. You’ve got me beat, at least. Couldn’t even make it past my first year before I dropped out.”

“I look like I belong at some conceptualist’s art exposition on tribute pictures.”

“I could give you a real tribute picture,” his eyes are glued to yours, even as he swipes a finger over his cum upon your lower belly and brings it up to his mouth, teasing his tongue with the salty taste. “Just need my phone camera, a nice big cheesy grin from you, and a printer.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, I will.”

Throwing a leg off the bed, he tests his stability, hand reaching down to tuck his limp dick back into his trousers and zip the fly up halfway. Despite the dizziness that threatens to cloud his mind, he manages to get his second foot on the ground.

“I’ll leave you to your shower, sweaty,” he calls over his shoulder, making his way over to the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” He could almost coo at you, wide-eyed gaze, legs tangled in floral sheets. You’ve sat up, and don’t seem to care about the way his cum drips down you onto the bed. All you care about is him, even if it's just for a moment, and Aegon has to physically stop himself from stumbling back over and engulfing you with his body once more.

Instead, he leaves you with a shrug and a simple explanation, “you fed me, now let me feed you.”

By the time he’s got eggs cooking on the stove and bread warming in the toaster, the sound of running water fills your apartment. A familiar buzz rings out, leading Aegon over to where his phone lays, buried in the cracks between your couch cushions. The screen lights up.

One missed call - Mother.

Unlocking at the sight of his face, he swipes up on the screen. It opens onto a chat log. Your chat log. His stomach drops as he scans over the messages, dreading what inebriated-Aegon had gone and texted.

Needyou - 04:47 am

Plase - 04:49 am

Thinik Imgonna K Hole in nnnnn bathroOm - 04:52 am

All three messages are in blue.

Beneath them, your reply lives in a muted grey bubble, yet it somehow has his eyes watering. Maybe he just needs to turn the screen brightness down.

Send me your address. I’ll be there ASAP - 04:53 am.

The pop of the toaster scares him out his own skin. He turns his head only to curse under his breath. Flames engulf the small frying pan, the food within charred black. He gives a gentle call of your name.

“I hope you like your eggs well-done.”

+extra hyde.

so, how are we feeling? do we want more of these two weirdos ( affectionate )?

i stopped doing taglists a while back bc i lowkey always forget about them but @481theralicat dmed me a while ago asking to be tagged if i ever wrote a second part to drummer!aegon and that message was partially what gave me the motivation to finish part 2, so i feel like the least i can do it tag them. i hope you enjoyed it & the wait was worth it <3

#aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen fanfic #modern aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen oneshot #aegon targaryen fic #house of the dragon smut

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pasta-in-the-pudding · 1 year

Note

Could you describe how you see some of the creeps' rooms? Like what they havein there or if their roms are messy or always clean? :)

I decided that for this one, I would do my most popular creeps, if you or anyone else reading would like more headcanons on different creeps, let me know and i will be happy to!

Thank you so much for requesting!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toby

Toby's room is located on the third floor of the mansion/manor (havent decided which one i like better) and is the third door on the left

His door doesn't really have anything fancy on it, it is a simple wooden door with his name on a bronze plate, just like the rest of the creeps

His room has a very grunge-esc and indie vibe to it

His bed is a twin sized bed, with a deep brown comforter, faded yellow sheets and two pillows with no pillowcases on them

He has 2 squishmellows, the hamster and the mango, they sit on his bed, and when he sleeps he uses one as an additional pillow, and the other one he hugs tightly to his chest

He has a lot of tapestries, and not many posters

He has posters for the beetles, fleetwood mac, and ozzy osbourne, and they are all on the wall above his bed

The rest of the tapestries are generic designs with skeletons and stars

He has a small couch under the window of his room, that has a small purple blanket thrown over the top of the couch

He has a lot of fake plants and vines in his room, because he can't take care of real plants to save his life

He has a wooden desk, and on that desk he has his laptop, headphones, tablet, hairspray, books, and writing utensils

Amongst those other things, he also has a few dishes on his desk

He uses his closet as a makeshift house for animals he finds (often possums and raccoons) so that he can help them return to full health, before setting them free once more

However, he does have 3 pet raccoons that just kept on coming back after he set them free, so he just kind of uses his closet for them

His clothes are stored on a clothing rack next to his couch

He has one nightstand on the left side of his bed, where he keeps his phone, charger, and in the drawer, he has spare masks, gloves, medications, and bandages/bandaids

He has a tv in his room, on the wall in front of his bed

All things considered, his room isnt too messy, he has a few dirty clothes here and there, and a few dishes, but it's not terrible

Masky

His room is on the third floor, and is the second door on the right

His door is also not decorated, just a simple wooden door with his name on a bronze plate

His room reeks of cigarettes

His bed is right under his window, it is queen sized and is the first thing you see as you open his door

He has basic white sheets, pillows with basic white pillowcases, and a basic brown comforter

He has a desk on the wall to the left of his bed, where he keeps books, notebooks, writing utensils, and his laptop

Next to his desk, he has an array of weapons

Guns, knifes, crossbows, etc

He has them displayed on the wall, he absolutely just stares at them from time to time, very proud of them

He doesn't have many decorations, but he does have a few trinkets Toby and Sally have given him

He has two nightstands, one has a lamp and the book hes reading, and the other has an ashtray and his current pack of cigarettes

In the drawers he has his medications, and his reading glasses (he refuses to accept the fact he's old, be nice to him about the glasses)

The jacket he normally wears is almost always thrown over his desk chair, ready for it to be used the next day

His closet is only really halfway full, so he uses the other half to store his pajamas, socks and underwear

He has a bunch of records and loves to play them

Takes him back to the good ol days

He is probably the second cleanest on this list

Eyeless Jack

His bedroom is on the second floor, and is the first door to your left

His door has been painted black and his entire room is soundproof

The black door is partly because he just likes it that way and partly to differentiate himself from Laughing Jack, which both door plates just read "Jack"

He has a twin sized bed with grey sheets and pillowcases, and a black comforter

His windows are covered by blackout curtains, making his room one of the darkest

Next to his bed, he has a nightstand with a lamp

Thats the only light source he allows

On the other side of his bed, there is a book cart with books (duh) and a few plants

He also has a bookshelf, but all of the books on the shelf are strictly educational books (studies on anatomy, different illnesses for different creatures, etc)

His desk has his laptop, tablet and a stack of notebooks, all full with his neat handwriting and labled with different things

He doesnt have many decorations in his room, but he does have some framed pictures of his friends from around the mansion

He also has a mini fridge with his stash of fresh food, it is kept clean and is restocked once every 2 weeks

He keeps his room spotless, no dust on anything, bed always made, etc

Definetly the cleanest on this list, if not in the entire house

Jeff

Jeff's room is on the second floor, and is the second door on the left

His door is very much decorated with crime scene tape, a stop sign and a small band poster

His room is very dirty, clothes, trash and dishes are strewn about the room, with a small path from his door to his bed

He has a twin sized bed (if you can even call it that) it is a worn out matress on the floor, with no sheets, pillows without a pillowcase, and a black comforter

He has a nightstand with his vape, medications and phone on it

He has a desk with a pc, nintendo switch, hairspray and makeup but he doesn't really sit at his desk much

His walls are completely covered in band posters, pride flags, road signs, and of course, his tv

He has an electric guitar, but he doesn't play it much

He only knows how to play MSI songs, but he is suprisingly good at them

He has a mannequin in his room as well, "Lucy", he named her, she is missing a leg, and four of her fingers on her left hand, jeff has stuck a knife through her eye and placed stickers over where her nipples would be as makeshift pasties

It is a running joke that Lucy is Jeff's one true love, but they have to keep their love a secret because people wouldn't understand them being together

BEN even bought lucy a cheap wig off of amazon, which sits crooked and tangled on her head

Lucy holds Jeff's bags, and his knives

His room doesn't exactly smell bad, but it doesn't smell pleasent

0/10 PLEASE DO NOT GO IN THERE WHATEVER YOU DO, YOU WILL BE MUTATED

BEN

He is on the third floor, and is the third door on the right

His door is a simple wooden door with a bronze plate that says his name

His bed is very low, almost touching the floor

There are no sheets, no pillowcases and a basic blue comforter

He has LED lights on the ceiling, which are almost always turned green

His desk has a full gaming set up, double moniters, and LED headphones, keyboard and mouse

Behind all of that, he has his hairspray, deodorant, and nintendo switch OLED

On the wall in front of his bed, his tv is mounted, under his tv he has a ps5, an xbox1 and an n64

He also has a small bookshelf where he stores all of his physical game copies

He has a bunch of blue light tapestries, almost all of them have at least one skeleton on it

He also has some posters for his favorite animes and video games (Black butler, one piece, the occassional hatsune miku poster...)

SPEAKING OF HATSUNE MIKU

He is throughly obsessed with her

He has a bunch of figurines he keeps around his gaming set up, he has a hatsune miku plush that sits on his shelf of video games, and he also bought a miku body pillow "as a joke"

And you better believe he has a few t-shirts

He keeps the body pillow stuffed under his bed, away from anyone who could possibly see her

I wouldn't say he classifies as a weeb, but he's definitely up there in the ranks

He also has a snack cart by his pc set up, one tier with drinks, the other two with snacks like chips, cookies, pastries, etc

As for cleanliness, i would say he isnt too dirty

He has a few dirty dishes on his desk, a few dirty shirts and hoodies here and there but other than that, his room is pretty clean

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stevesjockstrap · 4 months

Text

It’s finally Summer Exchange time bbs!@steddieonmywaywardson I hope I did your prompts justice :)

Part 1/2 🖤 part 2 here

Corroded Coffin Tattoo gets a new client that shakes up their summer.

Read on ao3 • Rated E • eventual steddie, platonic stobin, Corroded Coffin bros, Chrissy/Argyle mentioned, modern era, no UD, everyone ends up in Cali, slow burn (for me), inadvisable tattooing procedures, smut in part 2

Many thanks to the invaluable @fuctacles for fact checking and betaing my overzealous imagination and @lawrencebshoggoth for always hyping me up and dealing with my annoying self 🖤

Eddie looked down at his iPad calendar with a sigh. Three mainstream boring designs back to back. They paid the rent but he wished he could get to a point where he was tattooing what he actually wanted.

But then there was a consultation with a new client. Steve Harrington had met Argyle at a pool party and had apparently got drunk enough to show off his ‘wicked scars.’ Argyle immediately suggested Eddie to tattoo over them.

Getting the first message from a random Instagram asking about his availability and experience in covering scars had shocked him until the person explained. Scrolling through the stranger’s posts had been even more confusing. In most of his pictures he was either wrapped around a very cute — but obviously very gay — girl, or she was tagged as the photographer of the picture. Her page was much of the same, better edited pictures of them from the same day.

They’d gone back and forth with ideas (and banter) for almost a week in his Instagram DMs before Steve made the appointment. Had actually called the shop (no one did that) and asked about Eddie’s schedule. Argyle looked at him like he had three heads when he asked him to transfer the call to his office.

On the phone, Steve had been a bit more professional but somehow warm and friendly even talking about mundane things like his work schedule and Eddie found himself not wanting to hang up. Steve had asked specifically about one of Eddie’s favorite pieces, an eerie take on a harpy with disintegrating wings and an eagle skull for a face. Before he knew it, Eddie was pacing and waving his arms excitedly asking about what he had liked about it and what they could incorporate into Steve’s vision. Jeff had propped himself in his doorway with a knowing look until he got up and shut the door.

As he was cleaning up his station after the girl with the birds over her collarbone finally left, he froze in his tracks when a familiar face walked through the front door, sunlight catching all the highlights in his hair and turning his eyes more green than brown. His Instagram had not done him justice.

He quickly tried to pull his attention back to gathering up paper towels and rewrapping his gear. Get a hold of yourself, Munson. It’s just a normal consult. With a fucking beautiful male model-looking asshole (he wasn’t an asshole though) who he’d soon be getting to put his own work on and touch-

“Eddie! Steve is here,” Argyle thankfully turned his back to their lobby to smirk at him. All the guys had been teasing him this week after Eddie drunkenly gushed about him and the tattoo he’d soon get to do on him.

“Thanks, Argyle,” he huffed. “Give me a second.”

He quickly went to the bathroom to wash his hands and stare at himself in the mirror. “Be cool, dork. It’s a consult. Try to be fucking normal,” he hissed at his reflection. With a sigh, he went back out to face the music.

Suddenly he was in his tiny office in the back of the shop, overwhelmed by the delicious cologne or whatever it was that made Steve Harrington smell so fucking good.

Eddie poked at his iPad for a long moment like he’d never seen it before, feeling the weight of Steve’s eyes on him but refusing to look up. With a low frustrated noise, Eddie finally found the file he needed and almost threw the tablet into Steve’s lap.

“Uh. So th-this is what I’ve been messing around with. You know, since we talked. But we can change anything you don’t like! Whatever you want-“ he forced himself to stop talking as he finally allowed himself to look at Steve’s face.

“Wow, Eddie. This is, like, a lot different than I thought it would be.”

He felt his shoulders sag. Of course it sucked. No one liked his creepy creatures enough to have them on their bodies forever. He should just-

“Hey, no, that’s not what I meant.” Steve put his hand on his arm and Eddie looked up at him. “It’s awesome. Even better than I imagined. Can you tell me about it?”

Steve looked at him like no one else ever had when he’d shown them his work, actually interested and excited in way that made Eddie’s already fast heart stutter against his ribs.

“I-it’s, you know, you said you wanted a mermaid sea creature type thing. No tentacles,” he chuckled. Steve had been very adamant about that in their conversation, only giving Eddie that strict stipulation. That and no nudity, since he taught swimming lessons to kids and didn’t want to be paranoid about covering it.

Steve huffed a laugh but shuddered. Eddie let himself relax further.

“It’s essentially a creepy mermaid,” he said, reaching over to zoom into the drawing. “At first I was thinking sirens, you know, luring boats to their death, but they’re actually half birds and not underwater. This way we can play around with the tail or hair or bubbles or waves or whatever to cover anything we need to.”

Steve stared unblinkingly at his drawing with wide eyes. “It’s perfect. I love how dark and ominous it is. That’s really what I like about your art, Eds. It has so much raw emotion in it. She looks otherworldly and so sad.”

Eddie sucked in a breath at both the nickname and the compliment. No one had ever grasped the intricacies of his art, usually shrugging it off as horror or fantasy.

“Y-yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Thanks. Really. That’s- yeah,” he shook his head in disbelief. Steve fucking Harrington.

Far too soon, his watch buzzed, reminding him of his next appointment in thirty minutes. How had they’d been talking for half an hour already?

“Oh, well, I- um,” Eddie stuttered. He had never felt like this around any other clients, any other person really. “Can you, uh, show me where this is going?” He tried to smile normally.

“Yeah!” Steve grinned and stood, reaching for his belt.

Eddie jumped up too, the iPad on his lap dropping to the floor. Kneeling down to reach it, Eddie found himself looking up and making eye contact with Steve as he unzipped his jeans. “Wait, uh! Jeez man, I can like, step out, or-“

But Steve shrugged with a small laugh, toeing his shoes off so he could slide his pants down his long legs. “You’re going to see it all anyways, right? I’m not shy. Most of the tristate area has seen me in a Speedo, dude.”

Eddie winced, just now remembering why he wanted an underwater tattoo, his stories from his time as the captain of his college swimming team. Don’t picture it right now, freak.

He forced himself to stand while averting his eyes, somehow kneeling at this Greek god’s feet as he took his pants off hadn't already melted his brain but it was close.

The picture Steve had sent of his scars was just skin, and Eddie hadn’t known where it was. Should probably have asked, in hindsight. As Steve pulled the bottom of his tight boxer briefs up to show the back of his thigh, Eddie was glad Steve was turned away from him as his eyes trailed down the muscular thighs to the incredible calves. Somehow even his socked feet were attractive.

“Uh huh. Okay, um. How about you sit on the bed- on the couch! I have to- I’m gunna, you know, grab something.”

He ran out of his office and almost knocked over Gareth at the printer.

“Woah dude, are you okay?”

Eddie nodded as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “If I pass out, don’t let Steve do CPR, okay?”

There was a snickering laugh from behind him and he groaned.

“You don’t do CPR if the person is still breathing, buddy,” Steve supplied helpfully from his office doorway, still in just his boxers. Eddie wanted to dissolve into the floor.

Gareth handed him a bottle of water with a smirk and Eddie snatched a roll of tracing paper from beside the printer. “Thanks so much, Gare,” he grumbled.

“Don’t mention it.”

Steve thankfully didn’t bring up his awkwardness as he traced the back of his thigh on the paper, trying to get the overall shape and size they’d be going for.

“Oh, would it be possible to do like, something up higher?”

Eddie swallowed. “Up… higher?”

Steve did look back this time, making Eddie quickly try to settle his eyes somewhere innocent as Steve pulled the leg of his boxer briefs even higher, onto the perfectly pert cheek where there was another line of scarring.

“To cover this?”

“Sure.” He looked up into Steve’s big round eyes and got lost for a second. He would’ve agreed to anything in that moment, truthfully. Eddie would’ve tattooed his entire body if given the chance. “Um, hold it up there for another minute?” He directed as he grabbed the roll of tracing paper and tore off a longer strip.

Somehow he sunk into some professionalism he didn’t know he possessed as he used the sharpie to outline this very attractive man’s very expansive ass cheek and thigh.

He did leave the room afterwards to go back to the bathroom, throwing his long hair up into a messy knot to get it off his sweaty neck and splashed water on his face.

Exchanging pleasantries and telling Steve (with his pants on) that he’d send over some examples in the next week or so, he got through his hour unscathed.

At the bar with the boys that night, Gareth dramatically recreated his embarrassing moment outside his office. Eddie took the ribbing, downing his drink with a cringe as Drew shoved his shoulder.

“Just think, soon you’ll be tattooing the hottie’s ass for hours,” he laughed.

For some reason (a very good reason), he hadn’t allowed that part to solidify in his mind, and suddenly he had the image of Steve sprawled out under him as he tried to keep his hand steady to not fuck up his tattoo because he was staring at his ass.

“I’m fucked,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands and trying to ignore the ruckus the others made at his misfortune.

Eddie had never been this nervous or had such detailed discussions with a client about their tattoo before. Steve seemed genuinely interested in any and all lore associated with the tattoo and his work in general, shockingly even asking about some that were way back in Eddie’s instagram.

Before he knew it, Steve was sitting in the lobby again and Eddie tried to ignore everyone as he finished up a Roman Numeral date and sent his client to go look in the mirror.

Then it was Steve’s turn and his big eyes were staring into his.

His stencil was all prepared; Eddie had kept it safe in a special spot in his work station and had found himself staring at it between appointments.

“Hey Eds, ready to rock and roll?”

Eddie couldn’t help the wide grin that split his face as Steve approached him, Argyle helpfully sending him back to his station.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he mumbled, turning to start gathering his supplies.

In one of their (many) conversations in the time since the consultation, Eddie had advised Steve to come to this appointment in loose fitting shorts so they could just roll or pin up what they needed to get out of the way.

The short basketball shorts were not exactly what he had expected, but Eddie tore his eyes away from the way they hugged his ass and went to grab the stencil from its Important Spot.

His heart beating out of his chest while he meticulously shaved Steve’s butt cheek and thigh should’ve clued him in to how much this appointment was going to test him.

The voice of reason in his head (which annoyingly sounded like Uncle Wayne) was adamant that he be professional. Keep your head down and get to work.

That was easier said than done, however.

At first, Steve joked around with him, sprawled across his padded table with his arms pillowed under his chin. They both kept waiting for the next crazy song Argyle would put on, as he tended to jump from unheard of indie to hippie chique to instrumental video game soundtracks.

He’d explained this would most likely hurt worse than his previous tattoos, tattooing over scar tissue was a bitch. Steve had waved him off.

“Fuuuuck,” Steve whined the first time he traced the needle over the scarring on his upper thigh.

“Not too late to back out,” Eddie chuckled, knowing it would have the opposite effect.

“No way man,” he’d huffed before quickly rearranging himself on the table, gripping the corner harshly. “Keep going.”

Steve was definitely not the first attractive person he’d had on his tattoo bench, but for some reason all of his little noises and gasps and curses were sinking directly into his soul.

“Ready for a break?” Eddie asked when he’d almost finished with the outline. He hoped Steve would let them both take a breather. He desperately needed a cigarette and maybe a quick wank in the bathroom.

“I’m good. I think it’s- ah- it’s definitely getting easier,” Steve lied.

“The shading and color is going to be worse,” Eddie warned. “And we haven’t really, um, migrated north.”

Steve hissed, digging his fists into his eyes adorably. “Oh shit, you’re right. That’s going to suck, isn’t it?”

Eddie nodded solemnly, forgetting Steve wouldn’t be able to see. “Sure is, Stevie.” Not sure where the nickname had come from, he quickly forged ahead. “You don’t need to, I mean, how many people are really seeing it?”

Steve laughed sharply, Eddie pulling the tattoo gun away quickly. “Sorry. You don’t think I’m getting any, huh?”

Eddie felt his cheeks redden. “Th-that’s not what I meant! I’m sure you’re, like, you know, getting lots!”

Steve laughed harder and louder, a bit hysterically. “Oh, now you think I’m a slut?”

Eddie looked around for help but everyone was pointedly not looking at them.

“Oh my god, your face, Eds,” Steve gasped out, up on his elbow now to laugh at him. “I’m messing with you.” He continued laughing, but slowing down now. “Ahh, you are right though. A lot less people are seeing the goods lately. I’m not parading around in speedos anymore, at least.”

Eddie’s brain helpfully shut down at that thought so he didn’t keep putting his foot in his mouth.

“Are we at the break time?” Steve asked when he realized they were both just staring at each other.

“Yeah? Yeah! We can- whatever you want! Let me just-uh,“ he made himself stop making a fool of himself as he wiped a paper towel across the ink.

Eddie helpfully pointed Steve to the restroom first and he slunk to his office.

Jeff poked his head in, a wide grin on his face. “Having fun, Tedster?”

“Shuddup,” he grumbled, aggressively opening drawers in his desk, shoving things around.

“Did you leave your dignity in your desk somewhere?” Jeff teased.

Eddie groaned, then held up a battered pack of cigarettes triumphantly.

“Jeez, that bad, huh? You haven’t had nicotine since-“

Eddie held up a hand. “Nuh uh. Give me this, please, just, lay off. I’m-“

“A mess. I’ve never seen you like this with a client, man. All stammery and heart eyes. ‘Whatever you want, Stevie.’ What was that?”

Eddie shushed him loudly. The place was not huge. “Alright, alright. I don’t know what’s happening, okay? But I gotta get through it so if I can just self medicate in peace, please?”

The first pull of smoke into his lungs was amazing, leaning against the front wall of the shop, sunshine beating down on him. He felt like maybe he could survive this.

Until Steve was again laid out on his table, a cocky little smile on his face. Eddie tried to ignore it and the insane urge to ask him if he’d heard what Jeff had been saying, instead meticulously setting up his tray with ink pots and everything he needed.

“Ready, hot shot?” Came out of his mouth, snarky.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Steve sassed back, making Eddie laugh and breaking this bubble of uncertainty.

Steve had come back from their break without complaint, so it appeared he hadn’t had an issue with anything he heard or anything Eddie had done.

“Oh my god,” Steve gasped as the first swipe of color went on. “You weren’t kidding.”

It was then that Eddie realized he hadn’t done anything to settle his other problem. When he went back to the tray for more ink, he tried to surreptitiously readjust his pants and twisted away from Steve’s line of sight.

Steve’s noises were almost constant high needy noises now. In addition, Eddie was forced to settle his hand basically on Steve’s ass to complete the waves and bubbles above the mermaid. He decided to just keep going, no reason to switch spots to have to go back. Eventually he’d be tattooing and having to run his hand over and over the pert cheek. Don’t think about that.

“C-can we stop?” Steve panted.

Eddie froze.

“Sure. You okay?” He instantly searched his face. Had he been so in the zone that he hadn’t realized Steve was really struggling? Could he have been that deep in his own head that he hadn’t checked in with his client? “I’m so sorry- we-“

Steve sucked in several deep breaths, repositioning now that Eddie had stopped tattooing. Shifting onto his side to face him. “I’m okay. Just- a lot, uh, happening.”

Eddie quickly stood to grab Steve a bottle of water, pulling off his black rubber gloves on his way.

“No worries, we can chill, take a break, cut it short. Whatever we need to do,” Eddie rattled off quickly as he passed him the bottle.

Steve gulped half of the water then shook his head. “I think I just need a minute. Got kinda intense, I dunno.” He shook his head, hunching up his shoulders, looking small and overwhelmed in a way that made Eddie want to reach out for him. Keep him safe.

“Hey. No big. I warned you this would be a lot. I’m really sorry for not checking in.” He dropped down onto his stool, and he watched as Steve sort of curled into himself more. But there wasn’t much he could hide in his little shorts. “Oh. Um. That’s normal, too. Bodies are weird.” He tried to keep his voice neutral, but he could feel his cheeks warm.

Steve groaned and covered his face. “Oh my god,” he breathed.

They sat in silence for a long moment. Then Eddie had an idea.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Steve seemed even more anxious when he returned to his station, almost shaking as he bit into a cuticle and ran his other hand through his hair.

“You’re okay. Do you trust me?” The heavy question hung in the air between them. “I mean-“

“Yes.”

Eddie’s heart stopped then ratcheted even faster against his ribs. He grinned down at this gorgeous man on his table.

“Put these on. They should fit.”

His black sweatpants were a bit short on Steve, his ass and thighs taking up more room than his own. But it would work, and they hid more than his thin shorts.

Now that he was decent, Eddie gestured for Steve to follow him.

“Argyle, we’re taking a break. Gunna go see Chris.”

“You got it. Tell her I said hey,” Argyle called from his corner, not raising his eyes from the guy he was piercing.

Outside, Eddie watched Steve become more and more relaxed as they walked to the end of the block.

“Chris?” He finally asked, cocking his head adorably. Like a puppy.

Eddie grinned. “You’ll see.”

Inside the brightly colored ice cream shop, Steve almost ran excitedly to the front counter just as Chrissy came from the back, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Cunningham? You’re Chris?”

“Oh my god!” She shrieked. “Harrington? What are you doing here?”

Eddie looked between them, shocked. Chrissy had come around the counter to launch herself into Steve’s arms, hugging him tight and squealing as he spun her around.

This wasn’t how Eddie had expected this to go. “Uhh?”

Chrissy thankfully caught his deer in headlights expression and let go, laughing. “Eddie! Where’d you dig this one up from?”

“He found me! Sorta. Argyle found him,” he snorted. “I’m doing a piece for him.”

Chrissy beamed at him, nodding. “Ahh, that explains it. C’mon you two, sit down. What can I tempt you with, Steve?”

While Steve downed a milkshake and Eddie massacred a banana split, Eddie learned that Steve and Chrissy had gone to school together back in Indiana. Somehow both of them had bounced around before ending up in California. Steve explained he’d always wanted to live near the ocean.

Chrissy asked about the tattoo he was getting, and Eddie watched enraptured as Steve took the question, excitedly detailing the dark mermaid.

“It’s to cover up some scarring on my leg,” he explained.

“Ohhh yeah, from your-“

Steve suddenly leaned over the table to cover Chrissy’s mouth. Eddie burst out laughing, unsure what was happening, but watched Chrissy and Steve have a silent conversation through raised eyebrows.

“Ewww!” Steve pulled his hand back and wiped it on his (Eddie’s) pant leg. “She licked me!”

“Not surprised. Chris is a hardass.” He shot her a wide grin as she glared at him and flipped him off. “She plays dirty.”

“Eddie doesn’t know about your accident?”

“Chrissy, I’m begging you,” Steve wailed dramatically.

Smirking, she took a small sip from her own milkshake, eying the both of them.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Eddie chuckled. “But we need to get going if we’re trying to wrap up the rest of your tattoo today.”

Steve agreed and they both hugged Chrissy, Steve grabbing her number to make plans for lunch another day.

Shaking his head to himself, Eddie chuckled as they walked back down the road, “That was unexpected.”

“You aren’t kidding. What a small world, huh?”

“Maybe it’s a sign. Just so you know, her and Argyle have been in like an on again, off again thing for a while. But-“

Steve shuddered. “Nah man, she’s like my little sister. That’s not a problem.”

Eddie held the tattoo shop door open for Steve who smirked at him.

Feeling bad that he hadn’t thought of it before, he sent Steve to his station and went to grab the black canvas partition to put in front of them, separating them from the rest of the shop. Hopefully it helped Steve relax and not feel as anxious.

“Better?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded a few times, then slid out of his (Eddie’s) sweatpants. Eddie turned his back to get his stuff organized again while Steve got himself situated on the table.

“C-can you… uh, pull your shorts up?” Eddie winced at his stuttering question. Again he was struck with the realization that he was never this unprofessional and simpering with any other client.

But Steve reached a hand back to uncover his leg and butt to him, pretty much tucking the extra fabric between his cheeks. Eddie swallowed.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Steve sassed in response.

Eddie snorted. At least he was feeling better.

He got back in the zone, shading and coloring in but making sure he kept checking in this time.

“Good?” He huffed as he wiped the paper towel across the scarred area on his butt.

“So good,” Steve groaned and Eddie barked a laugh.

“Need a break?”

“No, just get the worst bits over with, will you?”

Eddie chuckled and went over the scar again with the tattoo gun, seeing Steve clench his fist in his periphery.

He tried his best to quickly go over the scarred skin, to limit the amount of pain he was putting Steve through.

Until he gasped and Eddie pulled back, instantly stopping and tracking across his face.

“Sorry. I’m okay. I dunno. Maybe more nerve endings there or something,” he rambled, wide eyed and looking pale.

“Almost done, I promise. You need your water?”

Steve nodded shakily and Eddie handed the now surely lukewarm bottle over, watching as Steve downed it, his Adam’s apple bobbing attractively.

Eddie stood to go grab a cold water for both of them and impulsively picked up some wrapped cookies they kept around for everyone. Definitely not to bide his time while Steve got himself together, and definitely not because it was crumbling Eddie’s already dwindling self control. Absolutely not. He was a goddamn professional.

Steve was propped on his side again, but he didn’t look as nervous or shaken as last time.

“Oooh, a milkshake and then a cookie? You know something about my sweet tooth, Eds?”

The nickname caught him off guard, as did the shit eating grin and the new twinkle in his eye.

Eddie giggled, coughed, then managed a lower laugh. “Ah, I can’t say that I do, but it helps to keep your sugar up. Or just something to keep your mind off the pain.”

Steve groaned goodnaturedly, getting himself back into position on the table, propping himself on an elbow to munch on the cookie.

Eddie focused on shading around and over the scars first, making sympathetic noises at Steve’s whines and gasps. This may be the most trying session of his career. Could he put ‘good under pressure, ex: attractive client whimpering’ on his resume?

He powered through the rest of the shading, making sure he kept an eye on Steve but trying his best to tune out his (sexy) noises and didn’t really pay any attention to what was coming out of his mouth.

“Fucking hell, Eddie,” Steve panted as he tried to gently wipe off all the mess and clean him up. He clenched his jaw to keep himself from commenting or moaning along with him.

Eddie insisted he wear his sweatpants home.

After everyone had cleaned up from their last client, Eddie suddenly looked up and had everyone’s eyes on him.

“Uhh?”

“Dude. What was that?” Drew was closest.

Gareth chimed in with a smirk, “That was Steve,” dragging his name out like they were in middle school.

Eddie groaned. He could feel his cheeks heating up and he did not want to be ridiculed any further.

“Oh, Bredward, it was disgusting.” Jeff came over and threw himself dramatically across Eddie’s chair. “You two were over here giggling at each other like kindergarteners. And I’ve never heard you gushing over a client like that.”

Eddie opened his mouth to argue but the rest of the guys decided to pipe up to give examples.

“Doing such a good job, almost done, I promise.”

“A bit more. You can do it. C’mon.”

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

“That’s it, deep breaths for me.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did!” Gareth nodded and Eddie grimaced.

“He took him on a date down to Chrissy’s halfway through!” Argyle supplied.

The rest of the guys stopped and turned to Eddie, who just made a face and nodded shortly in silent confirmation of this ridiculousness. There was an uproar of gasps and groans, making Eddie drop down onto his stool, groaning himself and throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling while they continued.

Jeff seemed to sober first. “What the fuck, man?”

“I don’t know. I- um, got a little carried away. I guess.”

“You guess,” Gareth huffed. “I felt like I was listening to a 900 number next to me. You know these cubicle walls aren’t soundproof, right? I had to tell my client you guys were dating because she was concerned.”

“What?”

“Bro, he was over here sounding like a pornstar and you were just as bad. I couldn’t tell her the truth!”

Eddie covered his face finally. He knew it had been too much, but hearing it from his friends made it all seem worse. Had Steve been uncomfortable with him? He hadn’t said anything. Eddie probably royally fucked this up for himself.

“Shit.”

@steddiesummerexchange

#steddie #steddie summer exchange #tattoo artist eddie munson #swimmer Steve Harrington #stranger things fic #mine #Chrissy/argyle #tattoo au #posting this at midnight may not be the best idea but eh

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fandom-alley · 1 year

Text

Rekindling at the Spa

18+

Summary: Spencer has an evening at the spa as per his doctors orders, and meets up with a girl he met at Penelope's over a year ago. This time he convinces himself not to leave without getting her phone number, but he ends up getting a little bit more.

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader

Category: Fluff, smut (like hardly though)

Warnings: 18+, kissing, making out, semi-public (no ones around) grinding, coming untouched/in pants

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: inspired by my recent trip to the spa where i realized just how single i am. this is my first time writing something spicier than making out, so it's not a lot and just at the end, go easy on me lol

Also on AO3

The last thing Spencer Reid wanted to do was spend his evening at the hydrotherapy spa. Germs from the water of hot tubs could make you sick if consumed, and so could the vapour that comes off the water. Not to mention the possibility of a rash due to the chemicals used. But it was his doctor's orders. Apparently his own doctoral status was not good enough to sway them to let him come back to work early and skip this step.

There were many steps he had to complete as part of his recovery process; resting his injured leg, physical therapy, changes to his diet, therapy for his mental health. And the dreaded ‘spa relaxation’.

Now, most doctors probably wouldn’t prescribe a day at the spa as something to do as part of recovery, but Spencer’s doctor knew him well. He knew that throughout the last month, even though Spencer had completed most of his steps, he wasn’t relaxing through any of it. And his doctor was correct. Spencer’s brain had been working double time, reading twice the amount of books he usually did in a day while he was immobile elevating his injured leg. Reading up on new techniques for profiling and offering tips to the BAU when they worked a local case.

His doctor could tell that his inability to relax his brain, therefore relaxing his body, was the last step in holding him back from complete recovery.

So here he was, entering a Nordic hydrotherapy spa, where he was not allowed to bring in any cell phones, tablets, or hold loud conversations with anyone. And while it was acceptable to bring books in to read, Spencer didn’t want to risk dropping one in the water and ruining it. So he was about to be forced to put his self meditation techniques to use.

After changing into his swim shorts, putting on the complimentary robe and locking away his belongings, Spencer stepped out of the main building into the frigid evening air. He breathed in the scent of salt, chlorine, and eucalyptus from the nearby steam room. Hidden speakers in the plant beds around the property played out relaxing spa style music. Spencer had to admit, despite his reservations regarding germs, he already did feel quite relaxed.

The steam coming off the hot pools seemed to blanket the grounds in silence. It wasn’t that busy, but Spencer spotted a few people relaxing in the pools and walking in-between sections of the spa grounds.

Upon his check in tonight, the kind lady at the front desk informed him how to use the spa for maximum relaxation and hydrotherapy benefits. She recommended he sit in a hot pool for 10 to 15 minutes, take a plunge in the cold pool for at least 15 seconds or as long as he could handle, and then relax in a sauna, steam room, or relaxation room before continuing the process a few times.

The property was large, with 4 different hot pools, 3 different cold plunge pools, 2 rooms for wood burning saunas, the eucalyptus steam room, and multiple chairs dotting the ground surrounding fireplaces where you could sit and relax. Without putting too much thought to it, Spencer hung up his robe near the closest hot pool and stepped into the burning water.

The change in temperature stung his cold toes as they started to warm up. The water was only up to his waist as he waded through past a few couples sitting to the sides. He made his way to the back of the pool where it was blissfully empty and took a seat. Since he was so tall sitting on the built in seats along the edge of the pool, the water only went up to mid chest. But the rest of his exposed skin felt refreshed with the cool air blowing over him. A good contrast to the hot water covering the rest of his body.

Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to shut his brain off. It worked for a few minutes, before he heard a couple a few feet over whispering sweet nothings to each other. It just made Spencer start thinking about his own lacklustre love life.

With his job in the BAU there wasn't that much opportunity and time for a relationship. Sure, some of his co-workers had figured it out. Like JJ and Will for instance. Spencer had seen how difficult it was for Morgan to hold down a relationship with their crazy work hours as well.

He hadn't really put that much effort into a relationship, though. Part of the reason was that he just didn't have the time. Some of the cases kept them away from home for weeks at a time. Sometimes to the point where he really didn't know how his friends and co-workers were able to keep it up. He was the type of guy who wanted to get to know someone, be around them lots in the early stages, and that was just too hard with work.

Spencer jolted out of his daydream when someone splashed into the seat next to him.

"Is this seat taken?" The voice belonged to a pretty girl, who if he had to guess was maybe just a few years younger than him. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't seem to place where he recognized her from. "You're Dr. Spencer Reid, right?" She asked.

"Yes, that's me," he replied with a furrowed brow, wracking his brain on why her big brown eyes looked like they knew him as well.

Thankfully she caught on to his confusion. "I'm y/n. Penelope's friend from book club. We met a year ago at her place when she had a viewing party for the season finale of Love Is Blind. I almost didn't go because I really don't watch reality TV, but I had just moved to the area and I wanted to try and make some friends."

Spencer remembered her now. Back then at the party she had her hair down in unruly curls and it was the colour of fire engine red. Now her hair was tied back to stay out of the water and it was the colour of midnight black. He wasn't one to forget a face, or forget much of anything really. But something about a dramatic change in hair colour and style had the Clark Kent effect on him. Maybe it was because he was in a pretty decent state of relaxation.

"I remember you," he said, nodding his head in recognition. "I also didn't want to go to that party but Penelope is hard to say no to."

Y/n laughed, "Yes she is, isn't she. It's good though. Because of her persistence I was able to make a few friends that night. And on multiple other nights as well. Penelope frequently tries to set me up on dates." She was talking pretty quietly as per spa rules, and it would have been hard to hear if she hadn't sat close and leaned in while she talked. Normally Spencer would have backed away, but something about her presence was soothing. Or maybe that was just the water jets from the pool shooting into his back.

"So what brings you to the spa tonight?" Spencer asked her. He might have met her back then at the party, but they hadn't said many words to each other. He remembered being slightly intimidated by her fiery hair and bubbly personality and after their initial introduction he snuck away with his glass of juice to browse Pen's book collection.

"Actually, it was a birthday gift from Penelope!" Y/n smiled.

"Oh, happy birthday." Spencer smiled back at her. Why was he intimidated back then, he thought to himself. She was so beautiful and so nice, and so far fairly easy to talk to, it seemed.

"Thank you. But it's actually not until next month. Penelope just told me this was the only night she could get a reservation and that when my actual birthday happened she would buy me a cake," y/n laughed.

Spencer pursed his lips in confusion. When he booked his reservation on his doctor's orders, there looked to have been multiple available times from now until the end of the year. The only day that was sold out was Thanksgiving weekend.

"When did she give you the gift with the reservation in it?" He asked y/n, with a hint of scepticism in his voice.

"About 3 days ago I think it was," she answered. About 3 days ago is when Spencer called up Penelope to rant to her about being forced to go to this spa. Was it possible Pen had given Y/n the gift as an excuse to try and set them up? Back at the party he had gotten the vibe when she introduced them that she wanted them to become friends. But Spencer had never gotten her number or email, and figured it just wasn't meant to be. Although how could it be, when he actively avoided her most of that night.

"What a coincidence that we're both here on the same night," Spencer told her.

"I know, right? I wasn't completely sure that you were you when I saw you sitting over here. But you're a hard one to forget, Dr. Reid," y/n said. Was that a blush he saw forming on her cheeks, or was she just getting too warm from the water.

"You can just call me Spencer. I really don't make anyone use doctor unless we're at work," he chuckled.

"Will do, Spencer. I hope you don't mind that I came over to sit with you. I can leave if you want the relaxation of being alone." She started to slide away from her seat slowly, giving him the opportunity to tell her she didn't need to leave. Which is exactly what he did.

"I don't mind. It's kind of nice to have company. I didn't realize how many people went to the spa with their partners," he told her.

"Well, perfect. We can experience this spa together then. So how come you didn't come here with your partner?" Y/n asked slyly. Spencer could feel his face heat up with the attention turned to himself.

"No partner. I actually had to come here by doctor's orders. I got shot in the leg last month, and as the last part of recovery my doctor wanted me to relax more and figured what better way to force me to relax than to send me to the spa.”

“Oh my gosh. I’m tempted to ask if you’re okay, but it seems like you are, since you’re sitting here. I had no idea your job could lead to such violence,” Y/n exclaimed.

“Every day is something different. They usually keep me off the field working from the office or police stations, but even then you never know what could happen,” Spencer explained.

“Wow. Okay, sorry. This is supposed to be relaxing and here I am bringing up work talk. What do you say we take a plunge into the cold?” Y/n asked with a grin.

This was probably the experience at the spa he was least likely to enjoy, but he followed her out of the water and next door to the cold pool. It was completely empty and Spencer was not surprised. Y/n grabbed his hand, sending a shock through his body, as they stood at the top of the stairs to the pool.

“It’s pretty likely that one of us is going to wimp out once our feet hit the water. So if need be, we have to drag the other person in, okay?” She said as she looked up at him. His voice got caught in his throat as he looked down at her and all he could do was nod in agreement.

With a deep breath in, together they stepped onto the first step. It was so cold Spencer felt like his toes would fall off in a second. However he didn’t even get a second thought to think about stepping back out before y/n fell forward into the water, pulling him with her. He had to grab onto her hips for stability so he didn’t end up falling on top of her in the 3 feet of water.

“It’s so cold,” Y/n gasped out.

It might have been 15 seconds, it might have been 5 minutes, but Spencer felt lost in time as he held Y/n in his arms in the freezing cold water. He didn’t even feel that cold in the places where Y/n’s skin touched his. Slowly, as if held down by some invisible force, he removed his hands from her hips and grabbed her hand this time to help her out of the water.

Feeling a new burst of energy from the cold shock, Spencer helped Y/n into her robe before putting on his, then wordlessly grabbed her hand and led her to one of the saunas. Inside, they were met with a blast of heat as Spencer guided Y/n to the back bench. Every seat in the sauna faced a wall made of glass that overlooked a small lake with a fountain cascading in the middle. As he relaxed into his seat, Y/n decided to lay out on the bench beside him and use his thigh as a head rest.

Neither of them said a word as they gazed out the window, watching the birds fly by and the ducks swim in the lake.

Spencer thought back to the night of Penelope’s party. After he had pushed himself to the wall to avoid interacting with people, he did end up watching from afar as Y/n made her way around talking to all the guests. He might have initially felt intimidated, but he was also fascinated with her. He’d seen a lot of different people with his job, and he’d seen people with colourfully dyed hair before as well, but something about her red curls just drew in his eyes and he couldn’t take them back.

She was beautiful, enchanting even, and he wanted to get her phone number. But then he had thought back to their last case. Where they had been gone for 16 days in a row. He had watched JJ as she video called Will and her kids any chance they got. Watched Hotch take numerous phone calls from his son. Even Morgan escaped for private chats with Savannah. He wasn’t sure if that was something he would be able to handle. So eventually he said goodnight to Penelope, left the party, and left any thoughts he had about Y/n behind as well.

Now that Penelope had schemingly gotten her back into his life, he was determined to make sure he got her number before leaving again.

Spencer and Y/n enjoyed the spa amenities for another couple hours, cycling through the recommended steps while chatting quietly or relaxing in silence. Despite not doing much, they started to feel tired from the heated pools and saunas before eventually agreeing to meet outside in the parking lot after they got changed so they could say a proper goodbye.

Spencer rushed through changing, not wanting to take too long in case Y/n decided she didn’t want to stay, and made it outside in record time. He stood off to the side at the parking lot entrance, waiting for her with his heart racing. It took her a little bit longer, but eventually he saw her walking down the path.

Her hair was down now, damp and a little frizzy from her curls trying to poke through. Wearing a simple black zip up sweater and black leggings, she looked cozy but also like she was about to rob a bank. She smiled at him when she reached his spot, taking his hand in hers to lead him to where she parked. The lot had almost emptied, leaving mostly staff vehicles and the last few remaining spa guests wanting to get every minute out of their visit as they could. Even with the empty lot, Y/n led Spencer to her car, a little black Honda, parked alone in the corner lit up only by the bright moon in the sky.

“Thanks for letting me hang out with you tonight, Spencer,” Y/n told him when they stopped beside her car. She didn’t move to unlock it, opting instead to stand there with her hand still clasped in his.

“Of course. It was really lovely to see you again, Y/n,” said Spencer. Okay, he thought to himself, now is the time to do it. Bite the bullet and ask for her number. “Would you, maybe, be willing to exchange numbers and we can plan to go out for coffee some time soon?”

Y/n broke into a smile. “I would love that,” she said before reciting her number. She knew he would remember it, if Penelope’s constant chatter about how amazing Spencer’s memory is was to be true.

“Awesome. So, I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Spencer moved to head back to his own vehicle but was stopped by a hand placed on the centre of his chest.

“Yeah. Or,” said Y/n, “Maybe we could do this?”

Before he could ask what ‘this’ was, she used the hand on his chest to push him back against the door of her car. Then she leaned in, rising up onto her toes to try and match his height, and placed her lips on his. It was quick, but enough to leave Spencer breathless, before she pulled away the slightest bit to look into his eyes.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and when he mumbled out a yes, nodding his head, she wasted no time going back in.

Their lips crashed together in an instant, almost too eager to finally be getting what they’ve both been craving all night. Y/n removed her hand from his chest to bring both of them into his hair, feeling the damp curls and giving them a little tug. Spencer brought his arms around her waist tightly, bringing her in closer to help relieve the strain of standing on her toes.

He couldn’t believe this was happening, and in a parking lot. But he wouldn’t change a thing. Y/n’s hands made their way down to the back of his neck, before she brought them to his jaw. He let out a groan when she pulled on his bottom lip with her teeth, before their tongues collided with one another.

Spencer brought his hands down even further, to grip the soft area at the back of her thigh just underneath her butt. He used his new grip to pull her up higher, spinning them around so that it was her back pressed against the car this time. She wrapped her legs around him to hold on as Spencer moved one of his hands up to her face, running his fingers along her jaw before finally pushing her hair back away from her neck. He broke away from her mouth to trail kisses along her neck, stopping to suck or nip at areas that drew a soft moan from her lips. He made his way down to her chest, where she had left part of the sweater unzipped.

When he pulled back on the sweater he stopped with a groan, breathing deeply as he held her closer and grew tighter in his pants. Where he was expecting to see some sort of lace bra, instead he was met with nothing. She wasn’t wearing anything under the sweater. Hungrily, he opened her sweater more and he attached himself to the soft swell of her breast. Kissing, sucking, and gently biting.

Without even realizing it, they started to move against each other. Spencer rolled his hips against hers, seeking that friction but focusing his attention on the skin between his lips.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/n threw her head back in a moan as Spencer finally attached his mouth to the hard nub that was waiting for attention. He swirled his tongue around as he sucked on the sensitive area. “That feels so good.” she groaned. She brought her hands up to tangle them in his hair and hold him in place, only letting him move when he wanted to show her other side some love as well.

It was difficult to move much against the car, but Spencer was hitting her in all the right places. Y/n could feel a familiar welcomed pressure building in her core and she gripped her legs tighter around him.

“Spencer,” y/n breathed out. “I’m close.”

He lifted his head enough to look at her. Her head back and eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. “Yeah?” he asked and she nodded her head while trying to move her hips faster against his.

Spencer ground into her with a new purpose now. Paying more attention to the moves from his hips, he went back to sucking on her breast. This time he brought his hand to palm the other one. Squeezing and feeling the fullness of it in his hand. He rolled and pinched her nipple between his fingers at the same time as he gently grazed his teeth over the other one. It was enough to send Y/n over the edge, with Spencer right behind her.

Spencer’s thrusts grew short until eventually they stopped as they came down from their high. He brought her in for another kiss, lazily moving his lips against hers while they got their breathing under control. Finally, Y/n unwrapped her legs from around him and he let her go.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe we just did that,” she said with a suddenly shy smile and glanced up at him. He looked down at her like he was seeing an angel.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He gripped the edges of her sweater and zipped it up tight to her neck. “What do you say we skip the coffee and go right back to my place?”

“I like the way you think. Lead the way.”

Click here for chapter 2! Available on AO3 only because it's basically smut and I was too nervous to post it on Tumblr lol

Thank you for reading, liking, or rebloging! <3

#spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #alleys writing #spencer reid/fem reader

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melimelissa998 · 1 year

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A Favor pt. 4

Part 3

“I still can NOT! Believe you asked him on a date” Mina says clapping her hands together, “It’s not a date” I say for maybe the 5th time today “Y/N, it is a date! He said so!” Jihyo is obviously on her side “He said, set the date, not it’s a date” I repeat but not sure if it was more for me than for them.

I lied to my friends about how I met Christopher and how we’re having a date dinner tonight. I had to go with a simple: we met at district 9, chitchat ever once a night and one thing led to recommending good restaurants and I mentioned one we both wanted to go and set a date to it…

“If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have said something like that” Jihyo arches her eyebrows and me. I try not to laugh at her meme face, but I fail. “He was just being nice” I try one more time to make them stop “BUT! He said, ‘I’ll take you!’” Mina screams irritated at my denial. I roll my eyes and smile ignoring her, I later I realize I’m still smiling “Yeah, I, guess it is a date” I whisper hoping they don’t hear me, but I know they do. The 3 of us giggled as if we were 17 again and we just said hi to our crush passing by the hallway and he said hi back.

I still wasn't sure if i was nervous excited or nervous scared of what can happen tonight, was this even a good idea? I wish I wasn’t this excited over dinner with someone, but it’s been years I went out a date and Chris is such a mystery, but again, it’s just a favor he’s paying back I am reading all this as something it’s not…

“Soooo, what are you going to wear?” Mina’s voice makes me stop overthinking, I blink twice and come back to earth, “I was thinking of.” I’m about to show them the outfit, but Jihyo stops me “No.” she says firm and I look at her confused “You are not wearing a cute blouse with your jeans” she crosses her arms and I look at her surprised “I, I was not going to.” I lie to her and turn to my closet again. How the hell did she know?

I desperately look through my clothes for a second option and almost at the end of the rack, I see 2 nice dresses: a purple sundress with puffy sleeves and a navy-blue dress to the neck with long sleeves. I show both and they choose the blue one. “Isn’t it too much?” I take the piece to the mirror and try to imagine myself in it “You should do sexy tonight, not cute” Jihyo says, and Mina agrees “Leave the purple one for a day date, and besides, you do look amazing in blue” Mina tells me and I half smile “Okay, fine, I’ll go shower” I inform them and leave the room.

After I shower and change to something for now while I do my hair and makeup, I go back to my room and see Mina and Jihyo on their phones and internally laugh remembering Felix’s phone from the other night.

I walk to my vanity desk and start my makeup, simple, nude palette. “You should put on a red lipstick, that would be very, very hot” Jihyo suggests and laughs, I roll my eyes and I shake my head “Nah, I, will go with brown tonight, I can do red lipstick another time” I tell her, and she sees me through the mirror and tries not to do a frown but doesn’t say anything else.

I straighten my hair a little and go back to the bathroom to change to the dress, when I go back to the room I spin in the dress “Yeah, I like how I look” I tell them, and both of my best friends smile at me “You look great!” Mina compliments me and I fake a blush, I walk to the closet again and I look for shoes, black heals or brown flats “Heals” Jihyo says behind me, and I laugh again, “I knew you would say that.” I tell her.

I arrive at the address Chris texted and the uber left me in front of one of the 3-star Michelin restaurants there is in the world “God’s Menu”, I recheck the address on maps and the location was the same, as I walk to the entrance my heart starts to skip a beat and my hands start to sweat. Is this a joke?

A beautiful young hostess smiles and welcomes me “Can I have the last name for the reservation?” she asks while she pulls out a tablet “Oh, um, it’s under, um, BangChan? He told me to give you that name?” I pass on what he told me to say at the door, but it sounds more like a question. She looks at me surprised and clears her throat “I see, yes, follow me please” She leads me in the beautiful place, all so brown, and gold, so luxurious I felt even the air in here smells expensive.

“I, sorry to ask, but, is it a business diner?” she whispers and I shake my head “Not that I know of” I laugh a little to it and she nods trying to hide a smile, we do a right turn and as I’m looking around being distracted by all the details in the celling, she suddenly stops and I accidently bump into her “I’m so sorry” I apologize and she laughs “Don’t worry, it happens more than you think” we both smile at each other and then she points to the booth beside her and when I turn, Christopher is already sitting there with a drink in his hand, he’s looking at me with a smirk. “Hope you have a great night” she again whispers and this time she gives me a different smile, a soft smile. I see her go and I turn to Christopher “Hi” I wave at him and stand there not actually knowing where to sit.

Next to him? The other side of the booth? Am I going to slide all the way?

“You look gorgeous babygirl” he compliments me so daringly and I forgot to breath for a moment “Thank you” I feel my cheeks hurt from the blushing, he scoots more into the booth and with his head he points to the new spot he made. I swallow hard and sit next to him. “When you said ‘great place’ I thought it would be a pizza place like dominos or something” I joke and he smirks “I can take you to dominos next time” he shrugs, I don’t answer to that, but I feel my stomach flip inside me “This place is, just so, amazing, I thought it was hard to have a reservation here in with days” I tell him “It is, but the owner is a friend of mine” he says so nonchalant about it, I don’t speak and just stare at him, so casually, handsome, is face features are so drop dead gorgeous, his black suite looking expensive…

“Are you allergic to anything?” he asks taking a sip to his drink and hiding a smirk, I look away and felt embarrassed, he knows I was staring… “Um, yeah, shrimp? Seafood actually, it gives me like a rash and closes my throat” I explain, and he looks at me a little surprised “and my eyes get puff so that also looks ugly” I point to my eyes, and he chuckles “Got it, anything to drink?” He asks “lemon juice with whiskey” I answer and he nods, he does a sign in the air to call a waiter “Bring her a sour whiskey and today’s special make sure there’s no seafood related” he orders and the waiter agrees and leaves. Again, I feel my stomach all weird and I really don’t want to feel how special he is making me feel.

There’s a moment of silents between us and I wonder if he feels it as uncomfortable as I do, but his facial expression is so hard to read “So Bang Chan? Is that your last name?” I ask, he straightens up from his position and clears his throat “It’s my business name” he clears out “Oh, and Christopher is for friends?” I chuckle “Like Hannah Montana?” I joke and as soon as I say it I regret it, I am about to apologize for doing such a comment but before I can say I’m sorry, he laughs as if I said the funniest thing in the world “Yeah, you can say I have the best of both worlds” he joins a punch line and I bite my lips trying to avoid my smile.

The waiter comes back with my drink and an entrance soup. I thank him and he gives me a small nod, he leaves us alone again, Chris is looking at me as waiting for me to try the soup first, I take the spoon with soup and bring it to my mouth. “Oh wow, this is so amazing!” I sound too excited about it, but I can’t contain the happiness of the taste. He smirks and starts to eat too. There is another moment of silences and I try to think of something to talk about, I take a sip of my drink and remember the other night and see he still has painted nails “Does the whole ‘drug in the glass’ happens often?” I want to know, and he nods “yeah, we are kinda used to it” he keeps it simple “We? As in Lee Know, Felix? The other boys with you?” “Yes” I nod and talk again “Your accent, it sounds, not from here, it’s like a.” “Australian, it’s an Australian accent” he interrupts me “Oh! Yeah, it is, Felix too, right?” he nods, and I feel conscious of how many questions I made “Sorry, I’m doing too many questions” I explain and breath in and start to eat again “You’re fine” he says sincerely “Sorry, I just get nervous when there’s silence, I feel like I have to fill it up with my talking” I nervously laugh “You don’t need to apologize, it’s fine” he says again and I am about to say sorry again but he gives me a “don’t say it” expression which makes me shiver and the word gets stuck in my throat. His face expression relaxes, and he continues to eat which I do the same “You, have a job?” he asks after a while and I nod “Yeah, I’m an elementary teacher, at the Northwood school, the one that’s on top of the hill?” I question the last part waiting for him to answer if he knew which one I was talking about, and nods “Is it a hard job?” he asks, and I smile “Oh let me tell you about it…”

Through the night, I start to tell stories of my kids and how crazy it is to be an elementary teacher, I also tell him all the funny moments I’ve had and at first, I really felt I should shut up at one point, but Chris would give me a look as if he was very interested or as if I was telling the most amazing story ever and made it feel like if it was okay for me to keep talking. Every now in then he would also share a story of his elementary days or crack a joke between my stories making all uncomfortable feeling go away.

At the end of dinner, after have to most amazing dessert Christopher lets out a heavy breath “I’ve got to say, you are funnier than I thought” he says with a half-smile, I roll my eyes hiding mine “Thanks, sounded offensive but thanks” I joke with him and he smirks. He’s about to say something back at me but the sound of a ringtone stops him. He talks a very old phone from his pocket and looks at the screen. I look at the phone with a frown, but also let out a chuckle, he looks at me confused “What’s up with a modern phone? You and Felix seem to not like smartphones” I comment and laugh about it, Chris looks down and the phone and back at me “It gives me what I actually just needed it for” he kinda sound serious almost annoyed about my comment “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything abo.” I feel bad and want to apologize about it but he interrupts me “I, didn’t mean it like that, I, just don’t need a fancy phone” he says in a better tone but it stills make me feel bad, I nod understanding and he still seems uneasy “I’m not into social media or have time for texting with friends” he comments in a sad tone now. I try to think of what to say instead of sorry, “Oh, that’s sad, and here I was thinking we were going to be text buddies after this” I tease him and give him my best “it’s okay” smile. He looks at me with an expression I try to read.

Was it funny? Did he hate the joke? Did he even get the joke?

“In that case, I’ll have to change it” he wiggles the old phone in the air and takes me off guard, I feel a chill breeze all of a sudden and my back is shivers. I really try stop myself from showing any emotion on my face but I feel a stupid smile on my face trying creep. I think of something to say back but I don’t know what to respond. I look away and distract myself with whatever I see first, I hear him chuckle but still don’t say anything else. I take a deep breath and look at my watch “I, should probably get going before it's late, then the Ubers get really expensive and I.” “I’ll take you home” he interrupts “Oh, I didn’t mean it to sound like.” I panic and try to explain myself but he ignores me “I’ll drive you home, getting in a car this late isn’t a good idea.” He again interrupts me and takes the last sip of his drink. I sit there looking at him getting up and out the booth, how can he just be so fine and cool about it… “. Let’s go baby girl” he sounds like he’s ordering me which I instantly react to it by getting up. He guides his hand to the bottom of my back and gives me a little push to start walking. I again feel a shiver down my back and my heart in my ears, I am so glad he can’t see how my face is probably damn red right now, I take small breath to stop my heart race and hope he can’t sense my nervousness.

We walk to the entrance of the place and a black Mercedes probably car of the year pulls up, a valet steps out and gives the keys to Chris, the valet guy is about to open the passenger door from me but Chris stops “I’ll take it from here” he again speaks in a demanding order in which the guy steps aways “Yes sir, have a great night” he says goodbye and leaves. Chris opens the door of the car and also closes it after. I take the chance to let out the air in my lungs and wait for him to get to the driver’s seat. The drive to my department was silent, not even music playing to make it feel not weird at this point. My need to vomit talk was making me go crazy. “Thank you!” I say out of the blue “. F-for dinner and the ride home” I look at him but he doesn’t seem to react about it “I know I talked a lot and sorry if I annoyed you, but.” “You didn’t at all, I enjoyed it” he interrupts and stops in front of a red light. He looks at me and just stays like that. The light makes his skin glow and I once again I look at his face, the scar, his lips, his nose, and into his eyes. The light turns green and he turns to face the road.

I then feel so unreal, the night, the air, this isn’t real, it’s so unreal, he’s unreal.

I stop overthinking as soon as I hear Chris get out of the car and walk to my side to open the door, I am about to say goodbye and thank him again but he speaks first “Let me take you out again.” I stand there a little confused “. But this time not as a favor…”

He just really knows how to take my breath away…

#fy #imagine #stray kids #kpop #kpop imagines #mafia #stray kids imagine #stray kids mafia au #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #felix #mina #momo

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kawaiipony-productions · 1 month

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IMPORTANT: My Situation and GoFundMe

Hola y hello, to those who don't know who I am. I'm Itzel aka Kawaiipony Productions. I'm a 17 y/o (mostly Mlp) YouTuber. I'm non-binary asexual biromantic (he/she/they) and I'm also an AuDHDer. And well, I need help. I live in an emotionally abusive household and my own “father” is my abuser. And while my mom isn’t as bad and my relationship with her has gotten better in recent years, she has still caused harm even by letting a lot of this slide.

Around February 18th, 2022, my parents snooped on my phone and found out I was trans. They had taken my phone, tablet, and Nintendo Switch. Which I wouldn’t mind too much if I didn’t purchase majority of these. I bought my tablet myself sometime around 2018 to 2019 with my own money. And I split half and half with one of my sisters to buy our Switch. That is hundreds not only stolen, but also destroyed as they’ve broken my tablet (which was around $300-350 when I bought it) previous instances it’s been taken from me. And I have not received any of these devices since.

Not only that, but my abuser in the past years of me dealing with my abusive relationship with him, h has threatened not only kick me out of the house, but also send me to the military without my consent or send me to my family in México to “straighten me out.” Not to mention his constant ableism towards me. From being anti-vax (a very ableist rhetoric towards autistics), forcing me to mask, etc.

This has led to me secretly doing my job as a part-time YouTuber for the past 2 years now, especially since I was forced to delete the previous Kawaiipony Productions channel cause of him. I have a GFM to help fund me for being able to get proper equipment again for doing my work. Not only that, but also possibly for things I plan to get once I turn 18 such as starting to get therapy, medication for my ADHD, etc. And now that I started dating my girlfriend, Vikki, I want to start saving some of this money to possibly meet her irl sometime next year.

I am taking a few small paid jobs for work right now, but it’s still not enough for my situation. So, you may ask, how can I help? Well, if you have the money, donate to my GFM. My GFM goal is $2,000 and I still need around $1,200 for reaching my goal. I also have adoptables for sale right now for $25 each. If you can’t financially help, then you can share not only my GFM, but my work. From my artwork, my videos on YouTube, and projects I’ve been a part of as a voice actor, animator, and/or artist. Any of this helps support me through everything going on in my life. I could really use it right now. So any and all support helps me out. Thank you all for reading this thread, I appreciate any and all support I need!!!

-Itzel C.D. aka Kawaiipony Productions

Ways to support me!!!

My YouTube channel:

My GoFundMe:

Current Adoptables for Sale:

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lunii-tunes · 18 days

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Baby Steps to Big Steps

I just set my phone aside, reclined on my bed, and guess what? I was surrounded by screens – the TV stood right before me, my tablet mounted to the left, and my laptop perched on a stand to the right.

I put my phone down because the moment I logged onto TikTok, I encountered a video addressing lukewarm or carnal Christians. It explained that one cannot wield God's power to fend off the enemy if they are lukewarm in their faith. This made me reflect, "Wow, she's right. I had resolved to read the Bible and immerse myself in God's word, yet here I am, just two days later, having completely forgotten about it."

As I continued to scroll, I encountered a post about a man who devoted his life to Christ in 2005. He shared a story of praying with his wife and daughter before tucking his daughter into bed. Since his wife had already gone to sleep, he retreated to the living room to browse through Instagram and relax following a lengthy and tiring day. He came across an ad featuring a half-naked female and instantly had to avert his eyes and set his phone aside, yet the image lingered in his mind for those few seconds. He was deeply troubled by the unexpected appearance of such content during his browsing. The next day the Holy Spirit delivered a message to him while he was at the gym. He discussed our tendency to become engrossed in worldly matters, neglecting to make time for building a closer relationship with God, yet finding time for TV shows, social media scrolling, and the like. It's a hard truth that, as much as we may not want to acknowledge or accept it, holds validity.

About a month ago, I made the tough decision to deactivate my Facebook and Instagram accounts. Now, I use Tumblr for journaling and TikTok to express how God has influenced my journey. Yet, I'm still captivated by Asian dramas, and sometimes, explicit scenes tempt me towards old habits I've fought off with prayer. I believe that investing more time in Bible study could help me avoid these temptations.

It goes without saying that I still have much work to do to be fully right with God. I prayed before starting this post, and after finishing, I will turn to the Bible and delve into the gospel. For those on the same path, I understand it's a daily struggle. Yet, as long as we pray and act, darkness will not prevail, and we can all achieve eternal life with the Almighty who never lets us down.

1 John 2:15-17

"Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life—is not from the Father but is from the world. And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever."

#journal #christianity #healing #bible #faith

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aromanticyaoi · 3 months

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Artfight tips I don't see anyone mention

This will be more of an accessibility tutorial for dummies, because the tips are more about making your page look good across different themes and devices, not about how to survive the actual fight.

1. Make sure your text is readable on both Dark and Light mode

I know a lot of people just looooove to clown on Light mode and how ugly it is, but some users use it for different reasons. I myself have bad eyesight and it is sometimes hard for me to read light text on dark backgrounds. Keep this in mind when using certain text colors.

You can also make the text easier to read by making it bold, increasing font size, etc.

2. Don't make tables with long rows. They will be hard to read on mobile.

Once again, people often forget that some artists might look at their page from a narrow-screen device, such as a phone or a tablet. There are artists that don't even have a computer, and draw either traidionally or on their phone. Please keep that in mind when you add tables to your profile.

This is what a table with a row of 4 cells looks like on desktop:

This is what it looks like on mobile.

You have to scroll to see the whole thing, not to mention how narrow each cell is. Yes, you can switch to landscape orientation, but I personally wish to be able to read everything without tilting my phone.

3. Big images with manually set width & height can also look bad on mobile.

This is what an image set to 400px height looks like on desktop. It looks okay, doesn't it?

...But on mobile, it stretches in a weird way.

If you are uploading a big image on your profile (like the one shown above), I recommend resizing it beforehand instead of manually adjusting its width and height.

#artfight #artfight tips

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turtlesocksv2 · 1 month

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4 Minutes ep 4

lol oh we're just jumping right in to Win finding out Tonkla's a murderer??? Ok! i like it! But anyway Win, you better answer that phone when your murder twink is calling, you promised! I really need clarification on where in the timeline the cold opens are, i know they're in a separate timeline but WHERE in the separate timeline.

"let's go to the hospital! Where hopefully i can talk to Tyme and ask him What The Fuck?!" LMAO Great you cannot interrupt a surgery just because you want to ask your situationship What The Fuck?!

These flash backwards are getting more and more intense for Great. Yeah, i'm thinking the theory that he's actively dying on the table are true, because it's taking more and more to restart his heart each time.

"i don't have any more family, I feel lost" "You still have me" my GUY, please! he's known you for like a week or two at most! Win is down baaaaaad. Tonkla has him completely dickmatized AND pussywhipped.

Sammon really does love the "let's move in together to protect each other from the shady guys trying to stop us from Investigating Crime" and you know what? Good for her. I respect it.

Oh shit, here comes Korn. Explosion commencing in 5...4...

Win;s little pantsless shuffle is so funny. If I was Tonkla I would not be letting Korn's trifling ass in my house.

Korn, Tonkla is CLEARLY not feeling it. Read the room. At least when Tonkla manages to tell Korn what happened, Korn does immediately stop and go into Rich Guy I Can Fix This mode. The absolute LEAST he can do after ghosting his sugarbaby for weeks.

Aww, poor Win is so upset about Korn. he really is the nicest character on this show, like, as a person. everyone else is kind of awful in different ways. And I mean, he IS a cop so he's not immune but. He really is a decent human being!

He can also pick Tonkla up and fuck him against a wall which is What Tonkla Deserves. get that Hot Cop Dick, Tonkla.

Ooooooh, Tonkla's cat is dead and that's why he looked so Shook ep 1 when that black cat showed up. and I see why Tonkla's been pining for senpai, Korn is very sweet with him here in the flashback.

Korn broke his promise to go public with their relationship. so disappointing but not surprising.

Glad we're all being validated about the 4 minutes brain death thing.

the time honored tradition of getting your mark drunk to get him to spill his secrets. good job remembering to delete the evidence that you sent it to yourself, Great!

But of course Great goes by himself. sheltered little rich boy doesn't realize the danger.

Adrenaline High Great is very cute, but it makes me worried that his heart is like, gonna explode. the man is Fragile. Bible and characters with heart problems 2/3

I really don't know what's going to happen once Korn wakes up, hungover, and gets told that Great took Nan. Or once Daddy Sriwatsombat gets told. Like, Great was not thinking ahead.

Fuaiz and Bible are playing two very different kinds of Babygirl . Tonkla is Femme Fatale version and Great is Girl Next Door. if Next Door is a Gated Community.

Oooooo, I love the reveal of Dome being Tonkla's brother and there being 2 timelines. Like, we all assumed it, but the way they did it with the blur and the text on tonkla's shirt and the camera work, the shadow reveal of the memorial tablet...I loved it.

this show is so fucking good you guys.

#4 minutes #fuaiz is putting in WORK and i love it

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unpredictable-probabilities · 2 months

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A Dream Companion

Part 2 of The Home That Waits Outside the Spotlight

Summary:

After some time away, Morpheus finds Hob waiting for him at The White Horse. As they begin to spend more time together, they start to discover what they truly want and what makes them happy.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5,311

Notes:

For Sandmanniversary 2024 | Prompt: Domesticity

It's not necessary to read the first part in order to understand this one. They do make a few references to the first part, but those aren't super relevant to the plot~

Enjoy reading!

[Read on AO3]

———

Hob took a sip of his beer while reading the latest reviews about The White Horse on his tablet. They had a lot of new customers just in the first week after Morpheus posted about it on his social media, and now that it had been over a month, Hob had to hire new staff just to keep up with how busy the place had been.

Right now, though, it was that stretch of time between lunch and dinner when there weren't so many customers, and so Hob was sitting at his usual table at the back while he looked over that week's profits as he usually did every Friday.

He checked his phone; still no new messages from Morpheus. Their last conversation was a short one from this morning, when they updated each other about their schedules for the day. That was normal, though, especially when they were both busy. Hob’s just glad they still find time to talk to each other every day.

They hadn’t seen each other since Blysse’s birthday party, more than a month ago. 33 days to be exact. Hob didn’t really intend to keep count, but he could remember. Morpheus had said that his press tour would last for about two months, and in the first few weeks of them texting each other every day like giddy teenagers, Morpheus had told Hob a handful of times that he didn’t have to wait, that Morpheus had no expectations of him. Hob had playfully replied that Morpheus wasn’t getting rid of him that easily, though privately he wondered what Morpheus could have experienced back then that made him feel like he had to tell Hob that.

Hob heard soft footsteps, and while still looking down at his tablet he glimpsed the hem of a black coat approaching his table. Maybe he didn’t notice that the customers were pouring in again and someone wanted to ask if they could take a chair from his table. Hob looked up, planning to say that he was just leaving and they could take the table.

The man was standing right in front of him, a warm and playful smile on his fair face, his raven hair sticking up in places.

Hob’s face went slack with surprise, then he could feel himself practically beaming with a smile. “You’re early.”

“I wished to surprise you,” Morpheus said, his soft deep voice sounding so much better without the filter of a phone’s speaker. “I hope it is a pleasant one?”

“Of course it is! Sit down, hold on—” Hob cleared the paperwork from the table and stacked them all to the side with his tablet.

Morpheus took the seat across from him and leaned back, just as comfortable in Hob’s presence as a month ago, Hob happily noticed.

“What happened? I thought you wouldn’t be back until next month?” Hob didn’t bother to keep the excitement out of his voice. “Not that I’m complaining, though.”

“My new manager Lucienne is much more efficient; she was able to come up with a schedule that gave the entire team more free time. I still have some work to do this month, but I will be able to visit here more often. After all, it would be the responsible thing to do as an investor to check on this establishment frequently,” Morpheus said playfully.

Hob grinned. “Well said, Mr. Evermoore. And how do you find the place?” he gestured around the pub, more than a little proud of the small changes he had made over the past month. Like the cushioned seats and extra booths, and an old-fashioned jukebox playing music in the corner that the younger customers were always fascinated by.

“As lovely as ever,” Morpheus said, looking around. “The modifications are impeccable, but my favourite is still the owner,” he met Hob’s gaze with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

God, Morpheus flirting in person was an entirely different thing than when he did it on text. Hob was grateful that he’d just finished his paperwork for this week, because his brain wouldn’t be able to think of anything else now that this man was suddenly here.

“No modifications with me, though. Still the same as ever,” Hob winked.

Morpheus chuckled, then he glanced at the paperwork stacked at the side. “Ah, I hope I have not intruded on your work. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

“Nah, I’ve just wrapped it up for tonight, don’t worry.” Hob noticed that more people were coming in through the doors now; the dinner crowd was beginning to come in. Speaking of which. “Have you eaten yet?” Hob was aware of how difficult it could be for Morpheus to have proper meals on work days. The first time they met, it was already lunchtime and Morpheus had only eaten one chocolate chip cookie the entire day.

Morpheus blinked. “I had a sandwich in the car before the photoshoot earlier.”

Hob remembered the schedule that Morpheus texted him and frowned. “The photoshoot at 11 AM? You hadn’t eaten anything after that?”

Morpheus smiled sheepishly. “I wanted to get all my work done quickly so I could get here before it got too late in the evening.”

“Ohhh no,” Hob shook his head. “You’re not using your cute smile to distract me from the fact that you hadn’t eaten in hours. You should get another manager whose only job is to make sure you eat!”

Unfortunately, that just made Morpheus give a smile that was even more distracting. “Worry not, I know the owner of this place. Perhaps he can recommend something to order.”

Hob was about to say that he would recommend the entire main course menu, but then he noticed that several of the customers were looking their way and whispering excitedly. He remembered that much of the new crowd they got after Morpheus’ social media post were those who hoped to run into him. So some of these customers might just be living their dream come true.

“You look rather murderous there, love.” Morpheus said with a knowing smirk. “Not very fond of crowds?”

Hob felt his face warm, he didn’t think he was that obvious. “Can you blame me? It’s your first day back and the entire pub already wants your attention. If they start to queue up for photos I’m gonna be charging them.”

Morpheus chuckled, and Hob felt instantly better just getting to see it. “You have my word that my attention is entirely yours.” His expression mellowed and he lowered his voice a little. “Though can we perhaps go somewhere else? Getting noticed like this by a crowd makes me feel like I’m still working, and I’d rather spend a relaxing evening with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” Hob nodded, already putting away the papers and his tablet in his messenger bag, his mind running through a list of the best food places in the city. “And you’re gonna be eating hours’ worth of food, you menace.”

After a quick stop to his flat upstairs for Hob to leave his work bag and change into a fresh shirt, Hob got some garlic bread from the pub and insisted that Morpheus eat it in the cab on their way to a small diner that he had recently discovered. They had great homecooked meals, and there was always a cozy feeling to the place even at their peak hours.

“Oh, is this that place you mentioned last week?” Morpheus asked as they got out of the cab, garlic bread fully consumed. “I’m surprised you didn’t suggest walking here, I seem to remember you prefer it instead of taking a cab.”

Hob smiled at the fact that Morpheus remembered those things he just mentioned in passing. “Normally I would, yeah, but you needed a meal 3 hours ago, so we can have a stroll some other time.”

“You worry too much about me,” Morpheus said lightly as they walked through the doorway.

“I worry the normal amount for my friend who eats like a bird,” Hob said pointedly.

They sat at a table beside the wall decorated with framed pictures of how the diner looked when it was first established, and some funny quotes about food and kitchens.

“Mr. Gadling,” the waiter greeted as he approached their table with a notepad. “Welcome back. I see you’ve brought a friend—” his eyes widened at Morpheus.

“Hello, Justin,” Morpheus smiled, reading the waiter’s nametag. “What would you recommend for someone who unfortunately skipped lunch today?”

“I— Um—” Justin cleared his throat and straightened up. “Uh, the chicken pot pie is one of our heavier dishes, and the cream of spinach soup is nutritious and also filling.”

Morpheus nodded and looked at Hob. “Perhaps we can order both, then?”

“Sounds good.” Hob turned to Justin. “And a pitcher of lemon iced tea.”

“Right away, Mr. Gadling,” Justin wrote in his notepad. “Will there be anything else?”

Hob looked at Morpheus questioningly, who shook his head. “That’s it for now, Justin. Thank you.”

Justin nodded at Morpheus, “Sir Dream,” and walked off to the kitchen.

Hob narrowed his eyes at Morpheus. “How do you get ‘Sir’ and me only ‘Mr.’? I’ve been here more times than you have.”

“It’s still better than a queue for photos, isn’t it?” Morpheus raised an eyebrow.

“Much,” Hob grinned.

Their food arrived, and Hob was glad to see that Morpheus was eating heartily. They talked about how well The White Horse was doing, and how Morpheus might be taking a break for an entire year soon to spend more time with his sisters.

After their meal, Hob asked if Morpheus wanted to go anywhere else, and that was how he found out that Morpheus had a friend that was now working as a bartender in a nearby club. They hadn’t seen each other in years, and Morpheus had been planning to drop by and say hello some time this week. Hob hadn’t met any of Morpheus’ friends before, so he suggested that they go there tonight since it was still pretty early.

They took another cab and Morpheus insisted on paying since Hob had paid for the first cab that night and their dinner.

The club looked pretty high-end, the type that had a queue outside waiting to get in because the place was probably packed. When the bouncer saw them approaching, though, he immediately stepped aside.

“Mr. Dream Evermoore, welcome.”

“Good evening. He’s with me,” Morpheus gestured to Hob.

“Of course, sir. Go right in.”

Morpheus pushed the door open and they stepped inside; music sounded from speakers somewhere and there were some strobe lights, but surprisingly it wasn’t nearly as noisy or visually overwhelming as some clubs that Hob had been to in his younger years.

“So people just let you in at any club?” Hob asked curiously.

“It’s not my preferred place of leisure, but yes,” Morpheus said as they wove through a crowd of people too preoccupied with themselves to pay them any attention. “There are times when I go to places like these to maintain connections. That was how I met Johanna,” he nodded towards the bar where a woman wearing a ponytail and an apron over her shirt was mixing drinks. “She was a bouncer at another club, and she intervened when one of the other actors there was getting too touchy with me.”

“What happened? Were you hurt or…?” Hob frowned in concern.

Morpheus shook his head. “He was drunk and he cornered me against a wall, but Johanna stepped in before anything else could happen. He was twice her size but you wouldn’t have known it from the way she twisted his arm.”

“Wow,” Hob said, impressed. “Then I’m really glad I’m meeting her.”

They reached the bar, and Johanna’s eyes landed on them.

“Well, well,” she smirked at Morpheus after handing a customer his drink. “Look what the cat coughed up.”

“It’s lovely to see you too,” Morpheus smiled and momentarily placed a hand on Hob’s back. “This is my friend, Hob.”

“Hey,” Hob raised a hand in greeting. “He was just telling me how you two met.”

Johanna whistled. “That feels like forever ago. How long has it been, 2 years? Nearly 3?”

Morpheus nodded. “Blysse still speaks fondly of it. Back then she would ask me to retell the story of the ‘badass female bouncer’ as if it were a bedtime story. She has been asking to meet you.”

“Well she’s too young to go here, but I have the next weekend off if you all wanna hang out at the shiny new pub of your friend here,” she jerked her head towards Hob. “I’ve seen the posts. Owner of The White Horse, right?”

“Yeah,” Hob nodded. “And it’d be great to have you over, though I don’t recommend going during the peak hours, more people have been packing in and hoping to run into Morpheus there.”

Johanna raised an eyebrow. “‘Morpheus’, huh? Not Dream? He must really like you.”

“I don’t think that was ever in question,” Morpheus said evenly.

“I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” Hob quipped.

Morpheus smiled and leaned against the bar. “Perhaps I should buy you a drink first.”

“Oh no,” Johanna said. “You’re not gonna be flirting in front of me, are you? I don’t get paid enough to see this.”

Hob’s phone rang in his pocket; he checked it and saw that Merv was calling. “Hang on a tick, love,” he told Morpheus. “I just need to see if something’s going on in the pub. I’ll be back for more flirting later,” he winked at Morpheus, who playfully smirked at him.

“Ugh,” Johanna said in disgust and rolled her eyes.

Hob walked over to the fire exit where the crowd was thinner and the music wasn’t as loud.

He answered his phone. “Merv, is everything alright over there?”

“Yeah, boss. Just asking about that thing you said back then, keeping the pub running for you and your friend after closing time when he gets back? Are we doing that tonight?”

“Ah,” Hob remembered telling Merv and Lou about that a week ago, when he’d been thinking of different plans to do when Morpheus returned. “No, we won’t be returning to the pub tonight. You all go home and lock up after closing time.”

“You got it, boss,” Merv said.

Hob ended the call and pocketed his phone again, making his way back to the bar.

He could see that Johanna was mixing drinks for a few customers, and some guy with a leather jacket had just sidled up next to Morpheus.

“Hey,” said Leather Jacket. “You’re that actor, right? Can I buy you a drink?” he flashed a smile.

“No, thank you,” Morpheus said politely. “I’m here with my boyfriend.”

Hob froze in his tracks a few steps away from them.

“Ah, my bad,” Leather Jacket said and turned around, almost bumping into Hob. “Woah,” he staggered.

“Hob,” Morpheus straightened up, a panicked look in his eyes.

“Oh,” Leather Jacket looked at Morpheus and then at Hob. “You must be the boyfriend. You two have fun.” He clapped Hob on the shoulder and melted back into the crowd.

“Hob,” Morpheus said again. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what else to say,” he fidgeted with the stem of the glass on the bar that Johanna must have prepared for him. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I wasn’t sure if you wanted alcohol so I just asked Johanna to prepare a drink without one. I believe this is soda and some kind of fruit syrup.” He slid the glass over to Hob.

“Morpheus.” Hob wasn’t thinking about drinks right now. He stepped closer. “What you told that guy…”

Morpheus drummed his fingers on the bar. “I know we haven’t established anything, and we don’t have to yet. It was just the simplest explanation I could think of to tell him. I haven’t been going around telling people we’re dating, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he added playfully, but Hob could see he looked nervous.

“I haven’t either but…” Hob placed his hand on the bar, inches away from Morpheus’. “I kinda liked the sound of it, when I heard you call me your boyfriend,” he smiled sheepishly, feeling nervous too. “So, if you want…” God, why was this so nerve-wracking? It was like he suddenly forgot how to use words, and he couldn’t even blame it on alcohol.

Morpheus was looking at him in surprise, a smile appearing slowly on his face as he realised what Hob was trying to say.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Johanna cut in and turned to Morpheus. “Just take him home. I don’t wanna be watching this all night,” she gestured vaguely to the both of them.

“My ‘home’ is hours away,” Morpheus said. “And I haven’t checked into any hotel yet.”

“We can go to my flat,” Hob said. “Why didn’t you say you don’t have a place to stay yet?”

“I didn’t want to impose, especially since I had surprised you with my early return.”

“I’m your boyfriend, Morpheus,” Hob grinned. “Of course you can stay over.”

Morpheus’ answering smile was brighter than the sun, and Hob could have kissed him right there.

“Please leave,” Johanna said.

“Gladly,” Morpheus said without looking away from Hob.

Morpheus paid for the drink that neither of them even tried, and they got out of there as fast as they could.

After another cab ride that felt much longer than it probably was, Hob was being kissed against his own front door two seconds after locking it behind them.

Hob clutched at the front of Morpheus’ coat, pulling him even closer as they explored each other's mouths.

“I have missed you,” Morpheus breathed against his lips, and Hob shivered at the adoration in Morpheus’ voice.

“I missed you too,” Hob whispered, closing his eyes as emotions welled up in his chest, nearly overwhelmed by the feeling of finally, finally having Morpheus in his arms.

Morpheus cupped his face and tilted his head back, deepening the kiss. The soft slide of their tongues was quickly making heat pool low in Hob’s belly, and he couldn't stop the moan that escaped him when Morpheus shoved a knee between his thighs.

“Hob,” Morpheus’ voice trembled. “I will take you to bed if you allow it.”

Hob groaned and tightened his hold on Morpheus. “Yes,” he said breathlessly. “I don't have any condoms but… do we need any…?”

Morpheus’ arms wrapped around his waist. “I have not been with anyone since my last test came out clean.”

“Me too.” Impatience was clawing in Hob’s ribcage and he all but dragged Morpheus down the hall.

Their coats and shirts were flung on the bedroom floor, and Hob fell backwards on his bed with Morpheus on top of him, kissing him like his life depended on it. Morpheus shifted and his cock pressed down on Hob’s through layers of denim, eliciting a moan from them both.

Morpheus moved to Hob’s neck, lavishing the sensitive skin with his lips and tongue. Hob was breathing heavily, his fingers clutching at Morpheus’ hair, his hips twitching in search of friction.

Morpheus put a hand on Hob’s hip, his thumb moving back and forth on the skin just above the waistband of his jeans. He pulled back enough to gaze down on Hob. “I wish to be inside you.”

“Fuck,” Hob gasped, already squirming beneath Morpheus. “Yes, Morpheus.” He blindly reached for his nightstand and managed to get the lube out of the drawer, knocking a few items down in the process.

Hob gave Morpheus the bottle with a trembling hand, and they practically tore the rest of their clothes off.

Morpheus smoothly crawled down, and before Hob knew what was happening, Morpheus took him in his mouth.

Hob yelled and just barely stopped himself from thrusting, wanting to chase that soft molten heat.

“Morpheus…” he groaned low in his chest, eyes squeezed shut as Morpheus worked him from root to tip. A slick finger prodded at his rim, and Hob made a wounded sound as Morpheus slipped one then two fingers inside him, all the while lapping at the slit of his cock.

Hob grinded down on Morpheus’ perfect fingers, gasping and whimpering when a third one stretched him deliciously for what seemed like an eternity. “I'm ready… Morpheus…” he arched his back and dug his blunt nails into Morpheus’ shoulders.

All at once Morpheus withdrew his fingers and released Hob’s cock from his mouth. Hob whined at the loss but it was cut off by Morpheus’ lips against his, kissing and nipping at him as he lined himself up.

It was a slow slide in, and Hob fought to keep his eyes open so he could watch every minute expression on Morpheus’ face; the crease on his forehead, the fluttering eyelashes, the parted lips.

Morpheus buried himself to the hilt and pressed his face into the crook of Hob's neck, breathing heavily.

Hob moaned and rolled his hips encouragingly, drawing a soft whimper from Morpheus.

Morpheus began to move, and Hob didn't bother to stop the noises coming out of him, doubting he'd be able to even if he tried.

They tried to keep kissing, but they just panted in each other's mouths as they found their rhythm and increased the pace.

“Not gonna last,” Morpheus gasped. He reached between them and wrapped a hand around Hob’s cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts.

Hob clawed desperately at Morpheus’ back, sobbing through his moans as he felt his peak fast approaching. “Close,” he said through gritted teeth.

Morpheus sped up inside and around him; a particularly hard thrust sent lightning up Hob’s spine and he screamed, spilling between them as he felt Morpheus’ release fill him.

Hob reached up to the back of Morpheus’ neck and pulled him down for a kiss that was more sighs and soft gasps than anything else.

They held each other through the last of the aftershocks, and Hob could feel Morpheus’ heartbeat thumping against his own.

After a while, Morpheus gently slipped out of him and grabbed his black shirt off the floor, wiping them both down with such tenderness that it made Hob's chest ache with fondness.

“You'll have to borrow my clothes again in the morning,” Hob smiled lazily.

“If you have no objections,” Morpheus returned the smile before tossing the shirt back down on the floor and lying down beside him.

Hob turned and wrapped an arm around Morpheus, pressing his face into the crook of his slender neck. “Until when are you staying?” he mumbled.

Morpheus faced him and pulled him closer, resting his chin on Hob’s head. “I am free for the entire week.”

“Wait, really?” Hob pulled back a little to look at Morpheus.

“That’s the second part of the surprise,” Morpheus smiled.

“I think I like your surprises.” Hob reached up and rested his hand on Morpheus’ face, tracing small circles on the cheekbone with his thumb. “You'll be staying here, then?”

“If you'll have me,” Morpheus said softly.

Hob looked him right in the eyes. “Always.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Morpheus’ lips, smiling at the contented sigh it drew out of him.

***

Sunlight streamed in through the gap in the curtain, and Hob instinctively reached up to close it, squinting against the glare.

He realised that there was an arm wrapped around his stomach, and a head resting on his chest, soft black hair tickling his chin.

Hob felt himself smile, memories of last night coming back to him as he fully woke up. He carded his fingers through Morpheus’ hair, marvelling at the fact that he was allowed.

Morpheus stirred and hugged him tighter. “G'morning,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Morning, love,” Hob planted a kiss in his hair. “Breakfast?”

Morpheus hummed in agreement.

“I do need to stand up to make it,” Hob pointed out, smiling fondly.

Morpheus yawned and rolled off him, propping himself up on his elbow. “I would like to help.” He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “After we shower.”

“We?” Hob blinked a few times, suddenly fully awake.

“If you wish,” Morpheus said with hooded eyes, his fingers trailing down Hob’s chest.

Hob had never gotten out of bed so quickly.

***

“What are we cooking?” Hob asked as they rummaged around in his kitchen to see what ingredients were available.

“How about baked potatoes and some steak and vegetables?”

“For breakfast? Though I suppose it’s closer to brunch now.” Hob turned around and saw that Morpheus had already laid the ingredients out on the counter; seeing them sparked something in Hob’s memory. “It’s what we cooked together on the day we met,” he realised.

Morpheus smiled softly. “You remember.”

“Of course I do. Now come on, we gotta get you used to a regular mealtime schedule.”

***

Hob sighed and leaned into Morpheus’ touch as the long slender fingers combed through his hair. He was lying down on Morpheus’ lap on the couch while listening to him read aloud from a detective novel. Jazz music was playing softly on the speakers in the background, and it was all so relaxing that Hob’s eyes had fallen closed about one chapter ago.

Morpheus paused in his reading and hummed thoughtfully. “I must say I am quite at a loss for this case. What do you think?”

“Hm?” Hob blinked his eyes open and looked up at Morpheus.

“Who do you think robbed the museum? At first I thought it was The Cheshire Brothers but they had just proven that they weren’t even in the country. And the position of the artefact's display case suggests that it was taken by someone with impressive acrobatic skills. So now it’s more likely that the trapeze artist Natasha could have done it.”

“Uh…” Some of those details definitely sounded familiar to Hob, but he didn’t think he should be blamed for not piecing together the clues, especially not when Morpheus was currently caressing the shell of his ear.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow, his fingers moving to Hob’s hair again. “Were you paying attention at all, Mr. Gadling?”

“I know The Cheshire Brothers and Natasha!” Hob said defensively. “And the artefact that was stolen was a ruby necklace, right? Or was it a crown?” he frowned.

Morpheus sighed dramatically and closed the novel. “You make for an awful detective,” he lightly traced a finger down Hob’s nose.

Hob smiled at the touch. “That’s what we have you for. You’re the brains and I can be your feisty assistant who makes snarky side comments and carries around a magnifying glass.”

Morpheus chuckled. “A pause on the reading for now, then? What would you have us do, my love?”

Hob felt a warmth bloom in his chest at how easily Morpheus called him that. He realised the music was still playing, and it gave him an idea. He got up from the couch and stood facing Morpheus, holding out his hand like a proper gentleman. “How about a dance?”

Morpheus blinked at him. “What?”

“We already have the music,” Hob pointed out.

Morpheus placed the book down on the coffee table, but he looked hesitant. “I am not a good dancer.”

“Dancing isn’t meant to be good, it’s meant to be fun.” Hob stepped closer and smiled. “Come on.”

Morpheus looked at Hob’s hand, seeming to relax a little before taking it.

Hob led them to the middle of the living room where they attempted what could generously be called a waltz before they began stepping on each other’s toes and dissolved into fits of giggles.

When they calmed down enough, Morpheus wrapped his arms around Hob’s waist, and Hob wound his around Morpheus’ neck. They just swayed from side to side along with the music, finding comfort in each other’s embrace.

“Hob…” Morpheus said after a moment, eyes to the floor.

“What’s wrong, love?” Hob asked in concern, wrangling his brain back from coming up with a hundred worst-case scenarios about what Morpheus wanted to say.

“Nothing,” Morpheus quickly reassured him, meeting his gaze again. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been thinking… Well, The White Horse is quite popular now. And I did say back then that once the pub can stand on its own again, I would withdraw my investment so you can be the sole owner.”

“I remember,” Hob nodded. “I don’t mind you owning part of the pub, though. Is that what you’re worried about?”

Morpheus seemed to be having trouble finding the words. “I… do not want you to feel indebted to me in any way. Our relationship is important to me, and at no point do I wish for you to feel like you can’t bring up any grievances you have with me because I’m putting money in your business. Nor do I want you to hesitate in… in ending our relationship should you ever wish to, because it would be messy to have an ex as a business partner.”

Hob’s eyes widened, and for a few seconds he felt at a loss for words himself. Then he held Morpheus’ face in his hands, looking right into his eyes. “Morpheus. I’m with you because you make me happy, because you understand me so well and I know I can always be myself when we’re together. Your money or my pub have nothing to do with it. But if it matters to you, then yes, you can withdraw your investment anytime. It’s not gonna change anything.”

Morpheus let out a breath of relief and pressed his forehead against Hob’s. “Johanna was right. I really like you a lot.”

Hob smiled and closed his eyes, already pretty sure he feels much more than that for Morpheus. “I really like you a lot too, in case it wasn’t already obvious. And Morpheus?” he pulled away so they could look at each other. “You don’t have to talk about it now, but I hope someday you’d feel comfortable enough with me to tell me what happened…? Why you kept telling me that I didn’t have to wait for you, or why you’re thinking that I might wanna break up with you when we just got together.”

Shame appeared on Morpheus’ face and he looked down again.

“Hey, hey,” Hob said gently, tipping Morpheus’ face upwards to encourage him to meet his eyes again. When he did, Hob continued. “I wanna know because I wanna be able to reassure you properly, so I can have a chance to prove to you that what we have now is different from whatever happened to you back then. Our relationship is important to me too, you’re important to me. And I wanna make sure I can keep reminding you of that.”

Morpheus’ eyes misted over, and he caught Hob’s lips in his, a soft gentle kiss that made Hob tear up too.

“I will tell you, eventually,” Morpheus said. “Soon,” he added more firmly. “I just need a bit of time…”

“Of course, love. There’s no rush.” Hob placed his hands on Morpheus’ shoulders soothingly.

Morpheus gently took Hob’s hand and pressed a kiss on the palm before letting it drop back on his shoulder. “You make me happy too. You make me want to take better care of myself, and… I’m not usually fond of dancing but… I like dancing with you.” He smiled then, and it was the most beautiful thing that Hob had ever seen.

“Good, because I definitely plan to dance with you every chance we get.”

Morpheus closed the remaining distance between them to embrace Hob, resting his chin on Hob’s shoulder and pressing their bodies together.

Hob gladly melted into it, a smile on his face as they continued swaying together to the soft music.

———

<- Part 1

(Sandmanniversary 2024 Masterpost)

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