#ever since I started working full time my interest in them just went down... and down... and down...

[starkeyvhs]

unhook

PAIRING: nerd!rafe cameron x nerd!fem!reader

SUMMARY: it’s rafe’s first sleepover with his first girlfriend – who is equally shy as him – but she needs help with unhooking her bra.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: shy rafe & reader; she/her pronouns used for reader; slightly suggestive (?) but it’s soft and fluffy 🫶

EDITH SPEAKS: we don’t just have nerd rafe now, we now have nerd reader too 🥰 I loveddddd writing the two of them, just a couple of soft and shy teenagers who like each other so much but are just so anxious 🥹 I have a cool idea on the background lore of this pairing and hopefully I’ll be able to write their full fic one day 🫶 anyways! if you enjoy reading, please reblog and share any feedback you may have 💞💞 also, my inbox is open to discuss all kinds of thoughts && hcs!!! xx

masterlist / join my taglist / requests

Rafe Cameron was an expert at a lot of things: physics, maths, programming, robotics, chemistry, but there was one thing no book could ever teach him. 

And it was how to act around girls. 

Throughout his life, he thought keeping a safe distance from girls was best for him; relationships and everything else would come to him when the time is right. 

But he definitely didn’t think that time would come this soon – in high school. 

He was best known for his concentration, and how he could sit still and study for hours on end, not giving up until he was done learning what he wanted to. But this one girl, she was becoming a distraction. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was as if he could see her name hidden between the words of the book he was reading, tucked safely as a sweet memory of this new person who had just waltzed into his life. 

And somehow, the one thing that made all of this sweeter was that the girl – you – was also just like him. Just as inexperienced, just as nervous, and, he didn’t realise it, but also just as adorable as him. 

It was hard for Rafe to get his mind off someone who had so many common interests as him. You loved science and technology just as much as he did, and you both were somehow just always on the same wavelength with almost everything you talked about. 

Now, fast forwarding past the awkward talking stage (well, what’s to say it sometimes still isn’t awkward), Rafe finally bagged you, yes, that’s right, Rafe Cameron got a girlfriend. 

And a damn intelligent one at that. 

So, after everything, he has you invited over to his place for your first ever sleepover. The nerves are even more than usual, but he’s trying his best to make this work, just for the two of you. 

Starting from when you arrive till the dinner with his family, everything is super smooth. You both talk a bit, and Rafe can feel the nervousness between you two is beginning to die, to create something that’s more comforting and warm instead. 

But, all the effort he puts to make everything light hearted comes crashing down when he realises nighttime is nearing closer and closer. Meaning, the time to share a bed is getting closer. He makes the offer of his own clothes for your nightwear, which he’s super happy you accept. 

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of his own shirt as he waits for you to finish changing and freshening up in the washroom. He can feel his mind go absolute berserk, an infinite number of thoughts looping themselves in his head and playing like a broken record. He’s attempting to get his mind off these thoughts, oh he is trying so hard, but he just can’t.

Rafe nervously looks up at the clock hanging on his wall and realises a little too much time has passed since you went to the washroom. It concerns him a tiny fraction, but he attempts to relax that thought by telling himself you must genuinely take time in the washroom to freshen up. 

But then he hears your voice calling out your name – oh how he loves the way his name sounds so sweet on your lips, but more on that later – and it seems as if you’re a little uneasy. 

“Yeah?” He asks, and his voice automatically takes that softness that somehow only comes up when he’s talking to you. He gets up from his bed and makes his way to the closed washroom door, gently pressing an ear to it. “Everything alright?”

A long moment of silence passes and Rafe doesn’t hear anything from across the door, which almost tempts him to call out to you again, but your voice finally crosses the wood. 

“I uh… I need help,” Your voice is already muffled due to the hardwood barrier between you two, but the obvious timidness in your tone makes it even more difficult for Rafe to catch your words. 

“Yeah yeah, what is it, sweets?” He says softly, the nickname rolling off almost effortlessly. Whoa, where did that confidence come from? Again, a topic reserved for a much later conversation. 

Another long moment of silence passes, and Rafe can now sense the anxiousness through the door, understanding that whatever it is, it’s making you feel more shy than usual. 

“My, my bra hook’s stuck… I need help with it,” Somehow, your voice has gotten even quieter. 

Now it’s Rafe’s turn to get quiet. 

It takes time for your words, and their implication, to settle in him. His limbs feel permanently tethered to the ground below him by a strong force, and that nothing can make him budge. But he soon realises that force is entirely superficial and it’s his own nerves keeping him fixed. 

Fighting the strong nerves he musters the courage to speak up again. “You, you need my help?” He asks. 

“Yes please,” comes your reply and he hears a heavy exhale escaping you along with your words, as if you’re letting go of the heavy weight of having to tell him what your current situation is. 

But god, Rafe doesn’t have a single clue how he’s going to react on what’s bound to happen next. 

He hears you unlock the door from inside, and he wraps his fingers around the doorknob, slowly twisting it to open the door. 

You’re standing in the center of the washroom, your back towards the door. He can see you’ve changed into his old shorts he gave you, but the t-shirt is sitting on the counter and you’re standing in just your bra. When you hear the door creak open, you turn to look over your shoulder and meet Rafe’s eyes. 

The moment you see him, you shy your gaze away from him. “Uh, it’s stuck real bad…” you mumble quietly. 

“Oh uh, I’ll… I’ll have a look,” Rafe mutters, moving closer to you so there’s barely any space between you two. He can feel the warmth of your back against his chest and it seems so inviting and soft. 

His heart begins to thump loud in his chest, and the deep curtain of silence that envelopes you two makes it even more loud to his ears. 

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat and lifts his hand up. He brings his fingers close to your back so that the fingertips are almost hovering over the inviting skin. 

Do it, Rafe, do it. You’re here to help her, that’s it.

Subconsciously nodding to himself, Rafe lets his fingertips gently press over your back and oh my god your skin is so damn soft. The situation is making heat rush to his face, and he just knows his cheeks are tinted with a champagne pink which is very hard to miss.

He can hear the hitch in your breath the moment his fingers touch your skin, as if the small contact is spreading an electric current throughout your body. Rafe lets his fingers linger over the bra hook, and he brings his other hand up too, attempting to sort the stuck hook out. 

“It’s a little stuck…” he murmurs under his breath as he has his way with the hook, but also makes sure none of his movements are too harsh that it hurts you in any way. 

“That bad?” You ask meekly, glancing at Rafe over your shoulder. He catches the look of sheepishness on your face, knowing how awkward you might be feeling in this situation. 

“I just need a minute, yeah?” He tells you softly, and allows himself to be a little bold, letting his hand drift over your shoulder and squeeze it softly. As much as his heart is beating fast in his chest and his fingers are itching to feel the expanse of your soft flesh, he also knows he should be a little confident because that’ll help you feel a little more comfortable. 

His actions do the expected, your tense shoulders relax a bit and you nod to let him continue. Rafe brings his hands back to the hook and lets out a deep breath. Okay, lets just look at this carefully. He takes a moment to inspect exactly how the hook is stuck, and then, carefully, he lets his fingers work through the stuck hook. 

It takes a long moment, both him and you standing in the quiet space of the bathroom with bated breaths, but finally, Rafe pops open the hook. That is the moment when your body gets fully relaxed, and he understands how relieving it must be for you to not have a tight constraint around your chest anymore. 

He can’t convince himself to bring his hands back down to his sides, his palms now fully resting on your back above your shoulder blades. You stand there, keeping a hand over the bra to keep yourself covered. 

“Are you feeling better?” He asks softly, feeling a little more bold as his fingertips begin to trail over your back, tracing over the length of your spine till your tailbone and coming back up right at the nape of your neck with a touch so slow and gentle. 

“Yeah…” you murmur, “thank you so much, Rafe,” 

Rafe can’t help the small smile that pulls his lips at your words. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, letting his lips linger against your skin for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he mumbles softly into your skin, before pulling back. 

He clears his throat and reluctantly gets his hands off you, taking a step back towards the door. “I’ll uh, I’ll let you change yeah?” He says softly and watches you nod, but this time you don’t turn to look at him. He makes his way out of the washroom and steps out, closing the door behind him and resting his head back against the hardwood. 

He closes his eyes, letting out soft puffs of air through his exhales as his mind plays back the last few moments: his fingers on your skin, soaking up its velvety feel. 

He doesn’t know where he got the wave of confidence from which allowed him to touch you that beautifully, but somewhere, he’s glad he got it, because now, he absolutely can’t even think of anything else besides you, your supple skin, and how he might ultimately get to feel more than just your back under his hands. 

Well, this only makes him ecstatic about the impending sleepover. 

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @inthelibrarybtw / @mccaffreyswifey / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @kaileashiftz / @weirdowithnobeardo / @chimchimjiminie16 / @ursovaine / @mariamadison6-blog / @snowtargaryen / @htlkira / @hrtshapedblg / @cherrys-muses / @mattyskies

specific tags for this fic: @maybejj / @appleciderlove / @starkeyszn

tagging a few moots: @runningfrom2am / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @nemesyaaa / @ladyinbl00d / @jjsbank444 / @b1mb0slvt / @maddsxfall / @congratsloserr

[robotslenderman]

I wanna play vidya gaems but other than watching @intimatevoid play them suddenly every single video game that has ever existed is boring as fuck to me.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Shhh....

Summary: Being a single parent comes with all kinds of challenges. Challenges that are so much easier to deal with when the father of your daughter's best friend is there to take of your more personal needs. And if that meant sneaking off with you into a laundry room at a garden party? Well who would he be to complain?

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: smut (semi public sex, unprotected sex, oral f receiving, cumplay) friends with benefits to lovers, a lot of flirting, fluff?

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

He didn’t know exactly why he agreed to go to this garden party. It was one of the few Saturdays he had off and he wanted it to spend with Sarah. She’s been in middle school since the summer and with all the changes that brought they only had little time to hang out in the last few weeks. 

So when Sarah brought the invitation for this garden party that the parents of one of her new classmates were throwing, he wanted to decline. But Sarah told him she really wanted to go, and that if he had something else to do that day, he could just drop her off and pick her up after?

But of course Joel Miller went with her. 

And it wasn’t that bad. The drinks were cold, the food was good and meeting all the new parents at the beginning of the year was a good thing too. Even if he already had forgotten most of their names. There were a few faces he recognised from Sarah’s elementary school, so he kept talking to them, all while having an eye out on Sarah who was playing soccer with some kids at the other side of the backyard. 

„Fancy seeing you here,“ he heard your voice behind him, and his eyes closed before he took a deep breath and turned around, fighting unsuccessfully against the smile that sneaked to his lips as he looked down at you. 

„Could say the same,“ he winked and your smile widened. 

This party just got interesting. 

You were running late.

The plan was to leave around twenty minutes ago but Charlotte, your daughter, just couldn’t decide on what to wear. She just turned twelve and if this last half year was a preview on how puberty would be with her, than you were in for a wild ride. 

Usually you used the weekends to charge your mental batteries by having as little contact to the outside world as possible after working at a bakery and having to be social all week. 

But Charlotte had brought the invitation for the garden party a couple weeks ago, begging you to go because Sarah would be there too. 

And where Sarah was, her father wasn’t far behind which was why you said yes in the end and spend way too much time on deciding what to wear before you decided on a light summer dress. 

It had been a while since you seen him, and you couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had found the time to have sex.

Because ever since Charlotte and Sarah became best friends some time back in pre school, you and Joel started sleeping together occasionally. The first time happened after a night out at the bar where you ran into him, both of your kids on a sleepover. It had been positively mind-blowing and you were more than eager to agree to keep this going when you both needed a release. 

His wife had left him and Sarah before the girl turned one and your husband had used your pregnancy to fuck his secretary because apparently carrying his child made you unattractive to him.

And with both you and Joel being very devoted single parents, both of your love lives was pretty much non existent. You wouldn't say it was frequent now, but every month or two you would find some hours where you’d meet up at either of your houses, not leaving before both of you were more than satisfied. 

And you didn’t know if it was the secrecy of the whole thing, but my god the way Joel Miller knew how to play your body to the point of a crying orgasm was addictive.

But now you hadn’t really seen him in almost three months. 

With the school change and summer break things were busy not only for you, but for him too. You texted occasionally, trying to figure out a time to meet up, but business was picking up for Miller construction and Joel used the little time he had off to spend with Sarah. 

Something you could understand. 

So you were excited to see him as you parked your car right behind his on the street after Charlotte finally had chosen a dress to wear. You knew all that time deciding on her outfit would be for nothing once they played soccer, but hey. 

Charlotte was off to see Sarah as soon as you stepped into the garden, many people already mingling. The smell of fresh BBQ lingered in the air and before you even had taken two steps inside you already had an iced tea in hand, the host, one of the moms of a new classmate of Charlotte that you had met before, welcoming you. 

You were glad that Charlotte and Sarah where in the same class, both of them loving each other like sisters. With Joel working so much you had Sarah over more often lately, seeing Joel only when he picked her up. 

She was very well behaved and deep down you got the impression she loved hanging around with just girls for a change. Of course Joel was the best father, but there are some things that teenage girls don’t want to speak to their dads about. 

Such as how to use the eyeliner she secretly bought correctly or the awkward question about what to use, pads or tampons or period underwear?

It was nice that she trusted you with questions like that. 

You knew from Joel that she had struggled to not have a mom like other kids and he told you it was nice that she now had you to ask all those questions. 

Not that you were her mom, or wanted to be. 

Well…. Okay maybe sometimes deep into the night when you looked at the empty space in bed next to you, you might imagine how it would be if Joel would be there, every day. How could you not?

He was the hot single dad every mom in class always wanted and you were the one who had him. Occasionally. But still.

You let your eyes gaze through the backyard before you saw the broad shoulders of the man you had hoped would be here.

You could feel the butterflies in your belly as you walked over to him and fuck that smile he gave you when he turned around…

„Work still keeping you busy?“ You asked a little while later, both of you with a plate of food in front of you, sitting at one of the tables outside. 

„Yeah. Can’t remember when I got more than five hours of sleep at night the last time,“ he groaned and you reached one hand over to rest on his knee before you could stop yourself. 

„You got to take care of yourself, honey. Let that brother of yours pick up some slack too,“ you winked and he gave you a bashful smile before one of his hands came to rest on top of yours. 

„He does. As a matter of fact he’s taking over the next project so I have some more free time to spend with Sarah,“ he said and you hummed. 

„And if I’m being completely honest there’s this girl I haven’t spend any time with in the last months and I really really miss her and her little pussy,“ he had leaned in, whispering the last words against your ear and you shivered. 

„Just her pussy?“ You mumbled back as you looked up at him and he smirked. 

„Nah, she’s the whole fucking deal. Should probably get off my own ass and finally as her out on a date instead of just fucking he brains out whenever she lets me,“ he said and you sucked your bottom lip in as you tried to hide your smile.

You looked away from him for a moment, gathering your thoughts, making up your mind. 

You needed him, and you needed him now. 

„Think you can show me where the bathroom is? I think I need a little refresh,“ you asked, hoping he would get the hint. And by the shit eating grin that came to his face, he did. 

„Of course. Follow me.“

„This… This is not the bathroom,“ you mumbled against his lips, his body pressing you against the door of what looked like a laundry room. 

„Less interruptions here,“ he hummed, hand slipping under your dress, finger hooking into your panties, pulling them down. You smiled, hands in his hair as you helped him get your panties off. 

„Been too damn long,“ he ran his hand up your leg, wrapping it behind his back, his other hand on your back puling you closer before he kissed you again, his tongue playing with yours as you reached down, unzipping his pants. 

„Missed me so much you gonna fuck me in some people’s laundry room? Want us to get caught?“ You grinned, hand pulling out his cock, surprised to find out he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Wrapping your palm around his cock you loved the deep groan he released against your lips. 

„Not gonna get caught if you keep quiet baby,“ he hooked your leg over his arm, hand on the door behind you as he stepped closer, opening you up for him. 

„Oh yeah, because I am the one who can’t keep quiet,“ you teased and he huffed a laugh, replacing your hand around his cock with his as he pumped himself and lined himself up. 

You wrapped one arm around his shoulders, standing only one one leg, trusting him to keep you there. 

Slowly he finally sank into you, his thick cock stretching you perfectly. 

„Fuckin’ perfect,“ he grunted, lips pressing against yours in a deep kiss when his cock filled you completely, both of you moaning quietly. 

„This ain’t gonna take long, sweetheart. Been to fuckin’ long,“ he grunted and you gasped when he moved, bottoming out completely before thrusting back inside. 

„Don’t care, just fuck me,“ you whimpered and he nodded against your lips, fucking up into you, skin slapping against skin every time he filled you. 

You sucked your bottom lip in, trying to keep quiet as he hammered into you, his lips now attached to your shoulder as he groaned into your skin. 

„Shit,“ he grunted just a couple of thrusts later and you felt him twitch as he came, spilling inside of you. Letting your head fall against the door you gasped for ear, having not cum but fuck it still felt good to just have him inside of you.

You were about to say something when he got on his knees, cock pulling out of you, your leg now hooked over his shoulders as his tongue replaced his cock, Joel moaning as he tasted you. 

„Oh fuck,“ you whimpered, hands now in his hair as he looked up at you. He grinned wickedly as he licked into you, licked his cum out of you. 

„We taste good together,“ he mumbled against your cunt, and you pulled at his hair with a quiet whine. 

„Shhh Baby. Don’t want anyone to hear what a little slut your are for me huh?“ He teased and you pulled his hair harder, making him moan as he continued to lick you. 

He sucked on your clit, tongue playing with it all while pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

„Joel,“ you moaned softly, your head falling back against the door as you finally came, gasping for air as your body shook in Joel’s hold. You melted against the door once you rode it out, limbs feeling like jello. He kissed your pussy one last time, before he set your leg down, keeping his arms around you as he got off of his knees. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hard once he stood upright. 

„We do taste good together,“ you whispered and he chuckled. 

It was two hours later, nobody at the party had noticed the very explicit things you did in that laundry room, that Joel carried a very tired Charlotte towards your car, Sarah already sleeping in the backseat of his car. 

You opened the backseat door of your car for him and he carefully sat Charlotte down, putting the belt on for her. 

You were leaning against the back of your car as he closed the door and he walked towards you. 

„What are you doing next Friday?“ He asked, fingers tilting your chin up.

„Nothing. Charlotte is with her Dad,“ you said with a small smile. 

„And Sarah is at her Grandma’s for a sleepover,“ he hummed with a smirk. 

„Wanna go on a date with me?“ He asked and you grinned, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him softly. 

„I thought you’d never ask.“

[sunflw3rbouquet]

doctor! doctor! - hc

zayne x doctor!male reader

overview: zayne and his doctor boyfriend hc! notes: condensing the medical career bc this is fiction and lighthearted (i didn't wanna be logical), not lore compliant (reader is a doctor), cute boyfriends, unedited again bc of time, reader cooks, title from zb1! tw: mentions of being a doctor!

…sun✰ ive been on lads for over a month now and zayne is the loml

✰as much as the two of you would like to pretend your relationship was some interesting office romance, it truly didn’t start like that ✰you went to the same med school, that was the only reason you knew each other. ✰zayne was a 3rd year while you were a 1st year,  ✰you had mutual friends, which allowed you to meet decently often ✰you didn’t get together until you were a 2nd year and he was a 4th year, but you’ve been together ever since! ✰he was the one to ask you out, mostly because he hates being in the dark about important things, like your feelings for each other ✰however, he couldn’t have chosen a worse time if he tried

y/n had just finished his first cadaver dissection of his second year of med school. he had been standing up for almost the whole day, his back aching as he finished the last dissection. the doctor watching the students' work dismissed them, instructing them on the work they had to complete before their next class.

the students talked calmly as they excited, a slouch forming in y/n’s posture as he walked to the biohazard trash can. he took off his ppe, sweat drenching the area under his gloves and chest. the cool air of the restroom took the edge off the heat. the bathroom was on the opposite side of the hallway, y/n shutting the door to the surgery room behind him before entering in the restroom. after approaching the sink, he splashed water on his face, his black undershirt covered in sweat stains. he looked as bad as he felt, the 8 plus hour surgery a monster on his body.

as he exited the restroom he was met with zayne standing outside, a look of subtle panic etching the man’s usually stoic face. “can we talk, y/n?” zayne asked, blinking once after he finished the sentence. y/n thought he could hear the smallest quiver in his voice while he spoke.

“can it wait a bit? i just finished my dissection-“ y/n asked, zayne running a hand through his hair, glasses falling down his face. he was wearing a pair of grey, cotton scrubs, his hospital id hanging from the pocket in his pants. purple bags lived right under his tear ducts, but not only were they not as noticeable as other students’, they somehow made him look more attractive.

“it’s urgent.” zayne had lost the fear that rested in his voice, his hand moving to push up his silver glasses that had fallen down his nose. taking a deep breath, y/n pushed his hair back, sighing. 

“fine.”

y/n expected for zayne to say something, but there was silence. unbearable, loud silence. he looked at the man, waiting for the words to leave his lips. y/n’s eyebrow raised, lips pressing into a straight line.

“would you like to go on a date with me?” zayne asked, his eyes glimmering with the smallest bits of emotion. y/n’s jaw almost dropped, eyes widening.

“i would love to, oh my god.” he spoke, zayne’s hand trailing to find y/n’s. 

“are you free wednesday?” “for you, i am.”

✰like the snow melting on a sunny, spring day, zayne warmed up almost the instant they got together ✰his indifferent expressions turned into bright smiles, and his awkward posture turned into comfortable and relaxed affection ✰zayne is a cuddle bug. entirely. ✰long shifts and tiring days drain every cent of energy from his body, and now that you’re boyfriends, there’s something to replenish his energy!

the clock read 3:37.

y/n had finished his shower, damp hair resting on the pillow of his full bed as he waited for zayne to finish washing up. the two were home late for different reasons: y/n had finished another dissection and was writing multiple essays, while zayne was in the final stretch of his shift.

every second that ticked by made y/n want to close his eyes even more. it was exhausting staying up. it was exhausting working every day. he wished for a break more than he wished for the sun to shine bright on a cold day and for a glass of water when he was thirsty. 

and then zayne entered the room.

water dripped from his short bangs, pajamas hanging loosely on his body as he practically limped to the bed because of the sore muscles in his legs and back. but this zayne, this tired, wrecked, zayne, made everything worth it.

“my bloods going to start clotting if i keep only standing and sitting all day.” zayne muttered, sitting down on the bed before pulling the covers on top of him. y/n laughed, moving closer so he was next to zayne’s side.

“you’re going to get a cold if you fall asleep with wet hair.” y/n spoke, adjusting zayne so he was sitting up, stealing the damp towel from his hands to dry the man’s hair. zayne scoffed, moving his hands to rest on y/n’s thigh. 

“that’s not real, you know?” y/n rolled his eyes, rubbing his head a little harder, just to let zayne know he meant to tease him.

“i’m just trying to be a caring boyfriend, stop going all doctor on me.” y/n pouted, shifting once more so he now sat on zayne’s lap. zayne smiled, his hands wrapping around his boyfriend’s waist as a smile creeped onto his face.

“oh, i see. carry on then, handsome boyfriend.” zayne smiled proudly. y/n let out a scoff, pressing a soft kiss to zayne’s cheek. “finish drying my hair, i feel a cold coming.” y/n stopped his movement of drying the man’s hair, looking at his face. he cocked his eyebrow, zayne’s lips pursing. the man let out a fake cough, doe eyes sparkling as he looked at y/n.

it took all of the strength in y/n’s body to not give in to the man. but sadly, he still gave in to him. he leaned forward, a pressing a kiss to his lips happily. “i love you, now sit still so i can dry your hair.” y/n muttered, zayne breaking into a smile, any traces of that “cold” gone.

✰residency was truly when the “office romance” started  ✰due to the opening of the deepspace tunnel all those years ago, linkon city’s medical program had condensed substantially, meaning zayne was already out of residency and a cardio surgeon by the time y/n was a first year resident at akso hospital ✰long glances at each other when walking through the halls turned into lingering touches when you visited him in his office in the second you were alone ✰somehow, seeing zayne at work but not being able to engage with him was harder than seeing him a little a home

y/n sat on the couch in zayne’s office, his arms grazing the floor as they moved back and forth.

“you’re so mean, zayne.” y/n pouted, his eyes looking up from the piece of the floor he was touching to see zayne sitting at his desk. zayne was looking at the files on his desk, sifting through papers until a certain section caught his eye, causing his eyebrows to furrow. there was no response to y/n’s statement, much to y/n’s dislike. “you see! you’re ignoring me. i finally have a break while you do and you just ignore your boyfriend of 2 years.”

with a sigh, zayne picked up his head from the papers he was processing. he changed his gaze to meet with y/n’s. “how am i mean?” he asked, a smile appearing on his lips. the new attention made a heat run to y/n’s face.

“you’re.” he started, his words failing to come out smoothly. y/n coughed to clear his throat, a smile appearing on his lips. “you’re ignoring your boyfriend when he’s busy and came to see you.” zayne stood up from his desk and walked over to the couch. he leaned down, his hand reaching out to caress y/n’s head.

“i’m sorry. i might not have patients, but i have things to read and charts to do. it doesn’t mean i don’t love you.” he whispered, zayne’s fingers caressing through the strands of y/n’s hair. “i’ll pay attention to you now, i finished my work.” y/n leaned into his touch, nodding happily.

“i know you don’t hate me. i like teasing you.” y/n said, adjusting his position on the couch so zayne could sit down comfortably, y/n resting on his chest.

“you didn’t say it back.” zayne spoke, y/n’s hands mindlessly playing with zayne’s long fingers. he caressed the scars on the knuckles while zayne held him tightly. 

“what did i not say back?” y/n asked, looking up from zayne’s hand after zayne’s arms squished him once more. zayne sighed, his fingers breaking from y/n’s grasp to squish the man’s cheeks.

“you didn’t tell me you loved me after i said it.” there was almost a pout in zayne’s voice. was he really that upset?

“i love you sooooo much, my zayne! don’t forget that.” y/n said, his head leaning back to see zayne. with a smile, zayne responded back quietly. their lips inched closer together, contact happening for only a millisecond before there was a knock at zayne’s off.

y/n jumped off the couch in fear at the noise, hitting zayne’s chin. he ran to the chair in front of zayne’s desk, zayne rubbing his face while calling the person in to enter his office. “i have the information you requested, dr. zayne.” the resident said, entering in while zayne walked to his desk. “oh, hi y/n.” y/n nervously waved back to the resident, a small smile on his face.

couldn’t y/n have zayne to himself for a moment?

✰with the increasing of wanderers in linkon city, positions in the hospital were rearranged once more, and y/n was now in the upper levels as a thoracic surgeon ✰this change also corresponded with the couple’s 4th year anniversary! ✰now that y/n was not a resident, the couple could finally be public in the hospital ✰it was the flip of a switch: one day zayne and y/n acted like normal coworkers, then the next, they were walking to lunch holding hands, comfortably chatting

the change was amazing. being with his boyfriend in public was amazing. zayne’s hand was laced with y/n’s, a soft smile on the latter’s face as zayne talked about his morning.

“the resident i was talking to you about did really good on their rounds this morning. i think they’re flourishing into a confident doctor.” zayne’s voice was steady, his gaze matched with y/n’s. “oh, and the patient who had a cardiac tamponade is recovering well. they should be discharged by the end of the week.” y/n listened to zayne, nodding his head every so often to show he was listening.

zayne’s monologue continued as they walked to the cafeteria, sitting down at a table that caught a majority of the light from the large windows. staff and patients walked around the area, some sneaking glances at the two affectionate doctors.

“i brought two different options, so take whichever you want.” y/n said, opening his lunch kit to reveal two glass containers, one with cold noodles and one with an omelet leftover from breakfast. zayne reached for the cold noodles, opening the lid. he grabbed the two spoons and chopsticks, handing one of each to y/n.

“have some, these are the ones you made. they’re really good.” zayne said, already digging in to the meal. y/n smiled, taking a spoonful of the broth before trying the noodles.

“woah, these are good. i only made them for your lunch while i was at home two days ago, so i haven’t tried them.” y/n spoke, zayne’s expression one full of happiness.

“i love you. if i didn’t tell you that today. and this is not because of the cold noodles, but it’s a little because of that.” zayne rambled, y/n pecking his cheek.

“i love you too. let’s eat quick, because then we can go outside on a walk before we have to go to work again.” y/n spoke as he pulled away, zayne nodding.

the couple ate their lunch, zayne packing up in lightning speed before reaching for y/n’s hand. the two made their way to the outdoor garden, a smile on y/n’s face as he rested his head on zayne’s shoulder. the conversation between them had gone quiet, the silence allowing them to enjoy the presence of one another. the springtime had caused flowers to bloom in the hospital grounds, zayne picking a pink buttercup from the grass and handing it y/n, repeating the process until the man had a bouquet and they both had flowers tucked behind their ears.

they could get used to this.

✰in the present, y/n and zayne are both attendings at akso hospital! ✰all of that worked had finally paid off (and all of that money) ✰the matched level of seniority allowed y/n and zayne to have a more synced schedule, which gives you more time together ✰7 years had passed since the couple had gotten together, and they couldn’t be happier ✰they held hands in between surgeries, instructed residents together, and were stuck at the hip whenever they weren’t needed for something emergent ✰they were the model couple of the hospital (so much so that the hospital wanted to use them in promotional material) ✰there are two things zayne loves in this world: y/n and his job, so having them together all the time might have just made him the happiest man alive

y/n’s couch was soft. zayne had picked it out himself, grumbling about how he “regretted the couch he bought for the own office” and he “wanted to make sure his boyfriend was comfortable”. y/n didn’t fully believe this answer.

especially paired with the fact that zayne was now always in his office.

“did you buy this couch specifically so you could bother me while i’m working?” y/n asked, staring at his boyfriend as zayne flopped onto the couch. 

“no, i bought it because it’s soft and you never-” he said, y/n cutting him off, his hand mimicking zayne’s mouth.

“get enough rest! you stay here when you’re on call instead of coming home to ME to cuddle.” y/n mocked, his lips forming the same pout zayne makes when giving the same speech. a weak laugh escaped zayne’s lips at the mockery, y/n cooing. “did i embarrass you?” he asked, getting up from his seat to lay himself over zayne’s spread out body.

“ouch. and no, i’m not embarrassed, i’m happy you know me so well.” zayne said, his nose touching y/n’s. their eyes held each other in a tight gaze for what could have been nothing more than a second before y/n felt zayne’s lips on his on, gentle moving back and forth, waiting for y/n’s to kiss him back.

y/n responded back, a conversation without words reverberating between the two.

i love you.

i love you even though i’m tired every day. 

i love you even though work is hard and scary.

i love you for you, and everything you are to me.

i love you.

there was a knock of the door of y/n’s office, y/n pulling away for a moment to respond to the person. “i’m busy! if it’s not an emergency, come back later!” zayne barely let y/n’s response ring before he laughed, connecting their lips again. they were in their rightful place. with each other, loving each other, holding each other.

nothing in the world could top it.

✰happiness couldn’t describe all the feelings that zayne felt about y/n (and vice versa) ✰y/n made him so happy, in fact, that there’s a box containing a ring with a big, glittering diamond sitting inside zayne’s desk right now

my handsome man, zayne <32708 words

[millieisawriter]

The spell (Charles' version)

second ending - charles smith x reader

summary: after you realized javier can't exactly give you what you want, you became closer with another member of the gang. is there a happy ending awaiting you?

first part

wc: 1.9k

all pics taken from pinterest

♡this was requested!♡

a/n: not entirely happy with how it came out, but i'm having trouble with writing anything at the moment. figured i could post this before i take a lil break from writing until i'm done with all my exams <3

There was an issue. You needed antlers. You couldn’t just find some laying on the ground after a buck had shed them, because it wasn’t the shedding season. Thankfully, you now belonged to a gang full of hungry people, so you were sure no part of the animal was going to go to waste.

You kneeled next to Charles by a buck the two of you had been tracking since sunrise. The animal, though no longer living, still looked majestic.

“You’re good at this,” you praised the man’s skills, noticing how he needed just one shot from his bow to put the animal down.

Charles replied as if it was nothing for him. “Been doing this my whole life.”

With precision, he removed the buck’s antlers and handed them to you. “What do you need it for, anyway?” he asked.

“A little thing I’m working on,” you put the antlers into the bag attached to your saddle, “a protection token, let’s say,” and then you mounted your horse.

Charles was going to shortly follow you, he just had to fix the rest of the hunted animal to his appaloosa. “To protect you from what? Javier?”

You laughed. “Guess you could say that.”

You rode side by side, immersed in a conversation, on the way back. Lately you found yourself spending more time with Charles. You’ve been running with the gang for quite some time now, having decided to stay despite the tensions between you and Javier. You told yourself it was a one time thing, never to happen again. Javier never even tried to understand you. His ignorance felt humiliating to you.

Charles, on the other hand, was interested in your practices. He’d often offer to help you, exactly like he did this time taking you on a hunting trip, since you mentioned something about needing antlers.

“Was nice hunting with you,” the man said as you reached the camp.

You replied. “You did the hunting.”

“And you kept me company.”

He dismounted first, intending to deliver the animal to Pearson as soon as possible. The atmosphere in the camp was eerie, not just because your camp was now by a cave that used to belong to the Murfree Brood. Ever since you had to leave Shady Belle, you noticed it was the beginning of a brutal end, and the gang was falling apart.

Half of the people were either dead or left, and those who stayed couldn’t stop snapping at each other every five minutes. The gang seemed to divide into two fractions – one that supported Arthur, and the other that supported Dutch and his ideas, one worse than another.

Instead of just standing there and watching Charles as he went on about his tasks after a short chat with Pearson, you retrieved the antlers from your saddle bag. Then, you retreated to your wagon in order to work on the token. Due to having even more material than you initially thought, you figured it would be a nice gesture if you made one also for Charles.

Sitting down to your work in the comfort of your wagon, you could almost forget about the chaos outside. As your knife carved into the bone, you kept your mind focused on the purpose of the token. Protection. Strength. Guidance. These were things everyone in the gang needed right now. You worked for hours, hoping Charles would like it.

Deep down you knew he would. He was always so curious about your witchy things, always asking questions in this deep, polite tone of voice. Sometimes he would surprise you, finding some similarities between your beliefs, and the culture he came from. So by the time the gang started to fall apart, you at least had Charles.

The bond between you wasn’t even friendship anymore. It was a strong, but not flashy, partnership.

When you stepped out of your wagon, the evening was approaching. You didn’t like that time of the day, not in Beaver Hollow. The darkness wasn’t peaceful, like in Clemens Point. Where the gang was now, you felt as if anything could jump out from the overwhelming darkness and attack you.

You found Charles sitting on a cot by the fire, no Javier in sight.

“I’ve got something for you,” you approached.

Charles looked up as you stepped closer. “For me?”

“It’s for protection, strength, and guidance,” you handed him the token and watched as he eyed it with genuine interest, “figured you could use it, considering the way everything’s been lately.”

He turned it over in his hands, tracing the carved symbols with his fingertips. For a man of his size, he could be surprisingly gentle sometimes. “It’s beautiful,” he looked up at you, “did you make it just now?”

“Yeah, worked on it since we came back.”

“You didn’t have to. But I’m grateful,” he gave you a small smile, “I’ll keep it close.”

You nodded.

There was a heavy sense of finality in the camp, a tension that could snap at any moment, but with Charles, it felt different. When it was just the two of you, you felt good. Safe, even. You needed the comfort he could provide, so you sat down next to him so close that your bodies were touching.

“Everything is falling apart,” you said quietly, as if already mourning the impending doom.

“Is that what your cards say?”

“Among other things. I don’t need my cards to see that, though.”

Charles hummed in response. You decided to rest your head on his shoulder. As you closed your eyes, you imagined the whole chaos just… gone. Life would have been so much easier if it were just the two of you. Falling for Charles wasn’t something you intended to do, it wasn’t something you expected to happen. But now that it happened, you were glad fate placed him on your path. Even if you had to go through the shame Javier had made you feel beforehand.

Suddenly a question left Charles’ mouth. “Do you think we’ll make it out of this?”

You didn’t know. You surely hoped so, but chances were low. You did anything you can to survive, in the physical and spiritual meaning.

Before you replied, Charles added, “Arthur said I should take you and leave.”

“He said that?” You lifted your head from Charles’ shoulder and looked at him.

“Said we should get out before it’s too late.”

Even if Arthur never took your witchy practices seriously, he respected you. He was a good friend. He cared for you in a brotherly way. If he thought it was the time to run, maybe it really was.

You questioned, “Do you think he’s right?”

“Yes.”

“But we can’t leave. What about the tribe we’re helping?”

“I can’t leave because of that,” he paused, and surprisingly you didn’t immediately argue. “If I get you somewhere safe, will you wait for me?”

Before you could answer, someone interrupted your conversation. You had no idea how long Javier had been listening, how much he heard.

“Wait for you?” he scoffed as his figure stepped into the firelight. “Isn’t that just so sweet?”

You tensed immediately, instinctively shifting even closer to Charles. He wasn’t standing up just yet.

“What do you want?” You asked, looking up at the Mexican.

Javier ignored you, his eyes locked on Charles like an animal sizing up its competition. “You’re both traitors. Neither of you ever deserved to be a part of this gang.” These words were supposed to be aimed at you both, yet his gaze remained solely on Charles.

Charles finally stood then, towering over Javier. “You need to walk away.” Despite the calmness in his voice, he could see how Javier’s expression faltered for a moment. The other man felt intimidated.

“Or what?” Javier sneered, trying to mask his real emotion. “You think I’m scared of you?”

You decided to join in, “What’s the point of all this, Javier, huh?”

He finally looked at you again. “I can’t believe you’d choose him over me.”

“Well, I did. He cares about me. Respects what I believe in. Respects me.”

A slight huff seemed to have escaped Javier’s mouth. “You never gave me a chance to prove I can be better. You didn’t let me learn.”

Of course you didn’t. He, apparently, changed after you had sex with him. After you woke up to him praying for forgiveness for having sex with you. Even if he did actually change, you had no reason to believe him. And now that you were so close with Charles, you had no reason to try trusting Javier.

You weren’t going to have this conversation with him. Glancing away for a moment, you hesitated before the next sentence left your mouth, “That’s because my cards told me you’re a little bitch.”

Maybe it was mean, but it wasn’t like Javier didn’t deserve it. Truly, he deserved much more than this.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Javier asked.

Charles didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but you felt the tension in his stance, you could tell he was ready to intervene if Javier made one wrong move.

“I don’t think that,” you replied, “I know that. Go on, yell about how unfair it is. But don’t pretend this is about the gang. This is about your pride. You can’t stand that someone else might actually treat me right.”

Javier’s nostrils flared, but for once he didn’t have a comeback. He stared at you for a long moment. Weighing his options, retreating away turned out to be the best. “This isn’t over,” he said before turning back.

“It is,” Charles stated.

That was pretty much the last interaction you’ve ever had with Javier. The time passed in a blur, soon the gang fell apart. You didn’t know who was to blame. Maybe it was Dutch, and his ideas. Or maybe it was Micah, whispering those ideas into Dutch’s ear.

You and Charles had left before the final stand-off, you were helping the Wapiti tribe get to Canada. The further into the Canadian territory you wandered, the more you started to like it. The more you could see yourself living there.

“What if we just… stayed here?” you asked Charles one night.

“You know we can’t,” he replied, ”not yet.”

You were tired, but knew he was right. You two had to go back, see what was left of the gang. If anything was left.

You didn’t know what the two of you expected, but finding Arthur’s dead, decaying body on that mountain wasn’t it. It was a nightmare to see him like this, and neither you nor Charles could stop the tears.

After burying Arthur, you headed to Saint Denis. It was supposed to be a stop before you two head back north again, but weeks turned into months, and eventually you learnt that you were pregnant. That meant no traveling until the baby was born. And after the baby was born, you realized traveling with a newborn would be even worse than traveling pregnant. So Saint Denis remained home for the three of you.

Truly, you were happy. Leading somewhat honest lifestyle with the man you love, and a child was something you deserved after everything you had been through.

[yellowjestertfs]

Just another ordinary day

Been busy working on a longer project (as in 40k+ words :0) but in the meantime decided to publish another older story of mine with revisions and images. AI was being especially tricky on me this time so the images are not quite what I pictured but good enough. If anyone has any tips for making better images or is interested in proofreading my longer story let me know!

I woke with a start, my mind still groggy from sleep my vision hazy. It was one of those sudden wake-ups that throws off your whole day, the kind usually prompted by some bad dream or loud noise. Only there had been no such occurrence; my sleep had been peaceful and from what I could remember dreamless, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling something had woken me. 

No matter the cause I was up, and judging by the daylight creeping through my shades there was no point falling back to sleep. With a groan, I lifted myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. The alarm on my bedside table informed me I had thirty extra minutes this morning to get ready for work. Never one to waste time I decided to have a quick wank with my extra time to try to release some of the stress my sudden wakeup had caused.

Something felt off as I pulled down my pants to reveal my dick, rock hard as it was most mornings. The type of feeling you get when you say a word over and over and it loses all meaning. Everything else seemed normal, my body was still just as average as when I went to bed, nice strong legs from a childhood of playing soccer and a slight beer belly from my time playing beer pong in college. My face looked the same as well, a generally generic face, adorned by light stubble which had grown in while I slept, and bags under my eyes from my draining corporate job. It was my dick that felt off, foreign, only that was ridiculous. It looked the same as it had since I finished puberty. Just over a foot long and proportionally thick, it was just as average as the rest of my body. Something about thinking of my third leg as average felt wrong but I chalked it up to the dregs of sleep. That was simply how men were, nothing strange about it.

Shanking myself out of my contemplative state I hopped into the shower and went about the act of washing away the sheen of sweat I had gained while I slept. I also took this time to rub one out, using the standard two-hand technique practiced by most men. My dick quickly rose to its full size, and within minutes, my tennis ball-sized balls were churning out cum. I thought back to an article I had read in high school that claimed the average male ejaculated a third a gallon of cum per climax, and judging by my admissions that seemed plausible. I supposed the amount coupled with the force accounted for the high rate of condom breakage, not that any but the bravest of women ever allowed for penetrative sex.

After maneuvering the shower head to force all the cum down the drain I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my waist, paying special care to ensure that my dick didn’t cause the cloth to come undone. Suddenly I felt a wave pass over me. I felt immediately nauseous and light-headed and a strange sensation of deja vu. I realized this was the feeling that had woken me up this morning, then just as suddenly as it had come over me the queasiness vanished as did my memory of the event. I was left only with a vague sense of unease. Powering through the strange sensation I wiped down the mirror and was confronted once again with a visage that felt somehow off. It wasn’t my average face nor the obscene bulge hidden behind my towel, both of those were normal. My body too looked just as average as ever, thick cut pecs, prominent square abs, and bulging 22’’ biceps were nothing to write home about, although I supposed my time playing soccer had given my legs an extra boost elevating them from the standard 30-inch thickness to a respectable 35. Luckily for me, men are incapable of storing fat otherwise I might have a belly from all those beers I drank in college I thought to myself absentmindedly patting my six-pack. Still, in a world where most men have 250 pounds of walking muscle, I have always felt sort of insecure about my scrawny 230-pound body. 

Quickly forgetting about the strange sensation I finished my morning routine, electing to keep my stubble in the hopes of cultivating a more rugged look on my average face. I exited the bathroom and opened my closet, greeted by the sight of several rows of various dress shirts, embarrassingly all labeled as men's adult small. Putting on underwear was easy enough as with all menswear my boxers had a special compartment for my hose-like junk. A dress shirt too buttoned easily over my cabbage-sized pecs as of course all men's shirts were created for just the task. I was just in the process of squeezing my legs into billowing trousers when I felt another wave pass over me. My already precarious balance caused me to fall, and I caught myself on the edge of my dresser, only it wasn’t a dresser. Why would I have a dresser, I wasn’t a woman what would I do with clothing? Righting myself against what I realized was a workout bench I glanced down just to reassure myself of my nakedness. I wondered absently where the thought of me owning clothing had come from, what a preposterous idea, that would be like a woman walking around naked. I would be fired on the spot if I showed up in such an offensive garment. Casting the ridiculous idea out of my mind I grabbed my bag and headed off to work. 

Saying hello to my hunky neighbor as I passed I finally emerged onto the street. Despite my strange morning, the world outside my apartment appeared the same as it always was, men on their way to work naked, of course, pecs and dick bouncing as they walked, bare feet smacking against the smooth temperature-controlled cement. I joined the throngs of men crowding the sidewalks and waited at a crosswalk as men showing flesh drove by, their cars of course made specifically large enough to hold their bulk. I became just another face in the crowd, just another man on his way to work, bodybuilder frame revealed to the wind. The eye easily passed over my foot-long dick, the instrument not nearly long enough to garner any attention. Be they young or old, rich or poor every man was at least 200 pounds of muscle with a shlong to match and of course, all of them were naked, it was simply how the world was, how it had always been. Depending on the subway station I swiped my metro card and made my way to the appropriate train. As the train pulled I was buffeted by yet another wave and was instantly wracked with an intense pulse of nausea which disappeared just as suddenly as it had arrived. 

Releasing I had fallen down, but not knowing why, I stood back up to my full 7’10” hight and saw all around me men doing the same. For a moment the doors to the subway car in front of me looked strange, almost too tall but that didn’t make any sense. They stood just as tall as ever, the standard 9 foot hight, enough to allow most men to enter without hitting their heads. I knew of course that there were rare men who would still have to duck to enter the train car but for the vast majority of men who averaged around 8’0’’, ten feet was more than sufficient. I entered the car and sat down, my bare butt brushing up against the perky ass of a blond man with a round face on one side and a woman in expertly pressed dress slacks and a matching navy blazer on the other. As the train took off another wave stuck. This one merely caused me to clutch my head as a splitting headache appeared and then vanished in a second. The woman next to me was hit harder by the instantly forgotten wave of reality-altering force. Thrown off balance she bounced into my left pec, her head cushioned by the squishy yet firm muscle. Recovering immediately and feeling somewhat confused as to how she ended up pressed against me she apologized and distracted herself by pulling out her phone and flipping to the camera app to ensure her makeup was not smudged. Though the camera was pointed at herself I could see my reflection, my head towering over hers even in my sitting position. 

I certainly wasn’t ugly by any standard but I also wasn’t some model. My chiseled wide jaw was just about as handsome as every other man on the train, although the perfect coating of square stubble that had grown in during the night did lend me a rugged edge. The rest of my features were pretty mundane, clear and pore-less skin, thick square eyebrows and a dimpled wide chin were the default for men, as evidenced by the golden-haired Adonis that sat next to me. Even so, I always liked my piercing bright eyes and high cheekbones even though they were hardly rare in the world.

The blond man sitting next to me with the perfect lantern jaw got up at the next stop. Mine was the one after that. 

I exited the car and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time to ensure I wasn’t late. My work building looked the same as it always did, with large doors to accommodate male employees and in the lobby a giant bronze statue of a man holding the earth, his body naked and extremely well muscled and hung of course for the sake of realism. Despite my relative scrawniness I still used a male-designated elevator, the female ones not made to handle my weight or height. The several other men in the elevator and I had only made it a few floors before we were subject to one final and seemingly extra powerful shockwave. The weight of the changes enacted easily caused all the men even with their rock-hard muscles to crumple and we collapsed onto each other. My hand somehow ended up gasping the long penis of a 40-year-old accountant with a perfectly maintained salt and pepper beard. For a moment I motioned to let go of his member before reality snapped back in and I remembered my manners. It would be incredibly rude for me to begin a morning grope and not bring him to completion. In fact,  I had already made a major faux pas by not kissing my coworker hello. This error in tact was quickly rectified as the rest of the elevator ride turned into a make-out session. By my floor the sexy accountant I was giving a handjob to reached completion and I took his load as my breakfast. As I left he spanked my ass and stuck his business card between my butt checks. Guess he liked my elevator pitch. 

I went straight to my boss's office as was customary and gave the 350-pound silver fox a quick blow job before he transferred his abnormally large penis into my ass and fucked me while we discussed business. Turns out the reality-warping machine he had invested in had been broken into this morning although as far as anyone could tell no damage had been done nor had the machine been used. 

“Makes sense I told him" In-between moans as he obliterated my prostate. “I imagine we would know if someone were to fuck with reality.” 

My boss clenched his superhumanly wide lantern jaw and straightened up to his full over eight-foot height, both football-sized biceps flexed behind his head. “You're right on that account kid, today is yet another ordinary day.

[4doras]

FROM THE START ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

you didn’t know the sweetest thing on the menu would be a boyfriend ⊹♡

genre. fluff

wc. 1.3k

a/n. hehe first nct wish fic and its sakuya my baby (◕‿◕✿)

YOU NEVER FULLY ENJOYED YOU JOB, of course, it was fun, but you never found it super enthralling. all you really did was help customers if necessary, work at the cash register, and help pack pastries. you liked your colleagues, you liked the environment, but the job wasn’t all that.

more under the cut!

🥐˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“Y/N, COME TO THE REGISTER!” your boss, oh sion, called. “coming,” you replied, pulling yourself to the desk. but your dull attitude was painted over with bright paint the moment you saw who was in front of you.

his dark hair framed his face in the softest way, each strand falling just enough to make him look effortlessly dreamy. there was a quiet kind of warmth in his expression, the kind that made it impossible to look away from him. there was something about him, something in the way his lips barely curled, in the gentle tilt of his head, that made it feel like he wasn’t just cute — he was enchanting. you saw a part of you in him; his bag decorated with cute keychains, most definitely more than you owned.

“y/n, this is my friend, sakuya. i thought you’d like to meet each other since you both have similar interests.” he signalled at you to wave to your new found friend before continuing. “and maybe saku can help you be more in the bakery, he really likes it here.”

🥐˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

KEYCHAINS, SNACKS, AND STICKERS, THEY ALL FILLED YOUR HANDS. you and sakuya — or maybe more of sion — decided to go out to get closer. the two of you went to every cute store that you passed by, never leaving any of them empty handed. and by the time you got home, your arms were full of red marks from where your heavy bags hung off of.

fujinaga sakuya:

interested in dancing and singing

born on 17th november 2007

loves bread (especially croissants)

favourite colour is pink

best friend is ryo

super cute.

well, maybe the last part was your own opinion instead of what he had told you, but it was true. you didn’t know what part of him it was, but he was the cutest person you had ever seen, physically and personality wise.

🥐˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, YOU AND SAKUYA HAD BECOME CLOSER. you both became best friends at such a quick speed. you had met all of sakuya’s other friends, went to his favourite shops and markets, hung out together a total of sixteen times in the past month, and met his parents twice. you and him were so close his parents had their suspicions that you were dating.

“i mean, i would too. you two are so close, and it’s been… a month?” sion said while wiping down a table. “but if i’m being honest, you and him look cute together.” he turned his head, staring at you with the most serious eyes.

“what are you talking about? me and saku are just friends, sion. you know that.” you turned your head away, attempting to hide your very red face from sion, knowing he’d misunderstand it.

you were only red because it’s embarrassing to think about you and sakuya dating. right?

🥐˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

TWO CROISSANTS, A RED BEAN BUN, AND A VANILLA LATTE. the moment you saw sakuya headed towards the bakery, you started packing his usual order.

“hi, y/n—” he greeted you, but you quickly pushed him his order. “how’d you know?” he looked at you with huge eyes. “you always order that, saku.” you wiped off your hands with a towel, taking off your apron and telling sion you’d be taking a break. “i’m gonna go tell sion i’m taking a break, wait for me at the table.”

you started taking time off of the job to spend it with sakuya. it was fun to spend time with sakuya, even if it was just a few minutes. and sion didn’t mind it either. it was the perfect way to spend as much time as possible with sakuya.

“oh, a ‘break’? it better not be an hour long again, y/n.” sion shook his head. “if you want to go on a date with sakuya do that on a day where you don’t have work.” he grinned. ever since you started talking about sakuya to sion, he constantly teased you about sakuya. “i don’t take that long! and i don’t want to go on a date with him…” sion shooed you away, “go to your boyfriend.” you walked away, thinking about what sion had said.

of course you didn’t want to go on a date with sakuya, he’s your best friend! it just wouldn’t be right.

🥐˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

YOU CLOSED THE STORE UP WITH SAKUYA. closing up with sakuya was something you never did before since he usually went home after your quick meet up. but as sion said, “it goes without saying” that he had to stay too.

as you tidied the cabinets, sakuya snuck up beside you. “y/n,” he stood beside you, looking at you with a cheeky yet sheepish smile. “i’ll be waiting outside. don’t leave without me.” and before you could even turn your head to face him, he was gone.

🥐˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

FINALLY, YOU LOCKED THE DOOR AND WENT TO YOUR CAR WHERE YOU SAW SAKUYA. “so, what’d you wanna say?” your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, mind racing faster than you could keep up with. sakuya’s expression was unreadable, his lips parting slightly like he was about to speak — only to close again. was he about to say something bad? something good? the uncertainty gnawed at you, making your chest feel tight. you wanted to demand an answer, but all you could do was wait, heart pounding, as the seconds stretched unbearably long.

sakuya took a deep breath, his hands clenched at his sides. he had rehearsed this a hundred times with sion, but now that you were in front of him, every word felt stuck in his throat.

“i like you, y/n.” he blurted out, eyes flickering to you before quickly looking away. a nervous laugh slipped out before he spoke. “i’ve liked you for a while, actually. i just didn’t know how to say it.” his eyes finally meeting yours, his cheeks flushed. “but i do. i really do.” he hung his hand behind his neck.

“what?” couldn’t find the words to say, only questions. “i really like you, okay? ever since sion started talking about you and how similar we were, i’ve been hiding my feelings towards you.” he fiddled with the longer bits of his hair before explaining more. “you’re really sweet, and cute, and… i don’t know y/n, it just feels like you’re the right person for me.”

your fingers curled into your sleeves as you searched for the right words. you liked him. but the weight of the moment made it impossible to speak.

then you caught the nervous flicker in sakuya’s eyes, the way he was holding his breath, waiting.

a small smile tugged at your lips. “i’m really bad at this,” you sighed, voice softer than usual. then, after a pause, “i like you too, saku.” his jaw fell.

was it really that surprising that you liked him back?

i mean, it was to you yourself, but you had to come to your feelings. you frequently found yourself thinking about sakuya, associating his favourite pastries with him, and always bought trinkets for him. the continuous denial made you tell sion about the issue, bringing you to the realisation that you truly did love him.

“actually?” he took your hands into his, squeezing them tighter the longer you held the silence.

you couldn’t think. your mind went blank. you wanted to say something, anything about how much you liked him too, but every thought tangled together, refusing to form a sentence. your heart pounded, and sakuya was just standing there, waiting.

you couldn’t think anymore.

you leaned in, your lips pressing against his in a kiss that said everything you couldn’t. for a second, sakuya froze. then he gently kissed you back, pulling you closer.

when you finally pulled away, breathless, sakuya let out a soft laugh. “so, i’m guessing that you really do like me too?”

“i’ve liked you from the start, sakuya.”

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 10; "Are you ever dreaming of me?"

a/n: girl i had to literally grind and write all of this today bc surprise song release means daisy and oliver have a fucking STORY TO TELL YALL enjoy this mess.

Humming. 

Soft, sweet, supple humming. It vibrated like a bee buzzing close to my ear. Was there pollen growing there? Had I morphed into some type of flower?

Was I leaking honey? 

The humming lifted sweetly, a higher octave. I almost recognized the song, the tilt in it’s lift, the bend in its melodic swing. No, I did recognize the song. It was…it was something so familiar that I couldn’t put my finger on it. 

“What is that?” I asked. The picture that I had not realized was fuzzy focused, above, like an Eagle’s scope. I was watching somebody. 

But, I was in my body. I was there, on those white crested sheets, sheets that were pristine but in need of an iron. I was shivering, heat rolling down my spine as the humming kissed the shell of my ear and a voice whispered into my drum. 

“A song.”

It was amused, almost. Teasing, maybe? It knew something I did not know. 

“Yeah, but what song?” I watched the dimples in my cheeks punch holes in my face and felt the laughter gently vibrate my chest. 

The humming was…a person. A shadow, real, but so fuzzy. An outline. A depleting figure. 

They shifted. They whispered, again, “You know it.”

I giggled again. Why was I so stricken with this…thing? “I can’t put my finger on it.”

The person/shadow hummed again. This time, the hum emphasized the soft rise in the song, but still did not sing any words. I could feel the rest of them now, their hands flat against my hips and stomach, their chin pressing into my shoulder. The breeze exited their mouth each time they breathed. Mint. Something…else. Someone.

“Are there words?” 

They chuckled this time. Then, took a chest-heavy breath before singing, “I once was poison…”

I could hear the wet touch of their tongue to their lips as the words thwacked. “But, now…”

My lips uncontrollably went taut as a smile overcame my blushing cheeks. “Now, I’m your daisy,” I’m not a good singer, so I didn’t try. I just whispered the words back and twisted to meet the shadow’s eyes. 

He continued, grinning, white teeth shining over pink lips, sleepy, bagged-eyes. “Baby, for you I would fall from grace,” his one hand slid up and over my cheek. I followed it’s line and watched as black paint smeared my skin. “Just to touch your face…if you walked away-”

Oliver did not get a chance to finish because my alarm was going off. 

That wasn’t the first dream/nightmare/shit show that had invaded my nighttime slumbers or, even, daytime naps. But, it was the first in nearly 6 months. It had been really bad for the first couple of weeks. I don’t think I got a full night’s sleep for at least a month. I was up after every dream, sweating, sobbing, calling Max and yelling angrily at my stuffed squid. It was a counseling tactic that ended up saving my life (and stopping me from responding to Oliver’s texts). 

(“Daisy, I need to tell you something…”)

I ended up going back to my therapist for about three months. It didn’t take long for me to edit my life, considering I was already pretty open to the change. I knew I was accepting poor behavior from people (it ended up being much more evident in my work life) and needed to be more assertive. My first session was…interesting. I sat down on the couch across from Marie, who I had not seen since I was 19, and started bawling. The first month went like that, crying about Oliver and how much I missed my mom (something I didn't even know was affecting me). And then the ball got rolling. 

And, now, when I had these dreams, when I woke up in a hot sweat and my cat jumped from the bed in a fright, I knew what I needed to do to not spiral. I pushed the covers off of me and thought about the dream. It was…fucked up. And I couldn't even remember if it had actually happened or if I made it up. Curse me for being on a Taylor Swift kick lately. Her lyrics were causing me to go loony. 

It was realistic. Too realistic. I had almost forgotten how Oliver felt against me, at my side. Nothing in the world felt quite like that. I’d tried to replicate, sure, and got pretty close during my first semester of graduate school whenever an international student (British) and I had a fling. But it was…weird. And, then I ended up opening up more to Marie about Oliver. 

And then I dropped out of school. 

The cool, early-March air was biting at me. I’d forgotten what it was like to live in an upstairs apartment during the winter. An old one, at that. So I pulled the covers back over my legs. Processing…

The dream did not mean anything bad. It was simply a memory, a twisted one, at that. Gaps filled with things I wish were said, probably. It was…bittersweet, a new, difficult emotion I’d been struggling to wrap my head around. 

I opened up my journal and wrote it down, wrote down how it had made me feel, and how I was going to cope with it. Cleaning. Spring cleaning, to be exact. The apartment was a pig-sty, to be frank. 

Unopened boxes, cobwebs in corners, paint splatters from the trimming I’d installed last week. Not to mention the entire shop downstairs…

I got up from the bed, practically skipping to my dresser but a foot away from the end of the comforter. The bedroom was tiny, tinier than I was used to. I slipped on warmer clothes and tied my hair back. 

I Bluetoothed my phone to a mini-speaker and carried it with me to the kitchen. I popped on the kettle and shoveled half a pop tart in my mouth. Evie rubbed herself between my legs, probably dropping massive amounts of fur on my pants. I squatted down to love her while the kettle started to whistle. I snapped up before the water could boil and poured it out over the bag of tea. 

“Let’s go, Ev,” I murmured over the rim of my mug as we shuffled into the living room. 

It was a fucking wreck. I groaned and threw my head back, causing some of my hair to slip out of the tie. 

I set the speaker and tea off to the side and got started. I was off work today, luckily, so I had time to really dig into things. But I did still have plans to go out later with a friend. And it was late. I’d gotten pretty good at having a routine, but the mornings after I worked I did not have any energy to get up at a good time. It was better than it had been. 

The first two weeks after I’d dropped school, I stayed up until 4 am every night and slept on my new (thrifted) couch until the sun set. It was…a process, moving here, getting the swing of things. 

But, this felt good. Unpacking- finding a place for everything. My mugs in the cupboard above the stove, spices along the wooden rack my mom had haphazardly installed a million years ago. The cat’s stand by the big picture window, where all of our random throw pillows sat. I hadn’t realized how many things were left by her until I got the keys from Sam and we drove my stuff down here. 

But there were things- the spice rack, the pillows. Her old, vintage vanity squeezed in the extra (tiny) bedroom that Sam and I used to share. I’d made a point to clean that one up the most when I first got here, considering every one of my friends wanted to visit as soon as they could. It was a peaceful spot, where I’d also unloaded my books onto our old bookshelves and bought a comfy reading chair. A pull out bed set beneath the chair, some fancy contraption Max had found at some Swedish furniture store overseas. He was always sending me pictures of decor pieces. He knew me too well. 

I got about three boxes unloaded before I splatted myself onto the (clearing) couch, phone and glass of cold water in hand. My phone began to buzz with a call from a familiar contact on the screen. 

“Daz!” absolute ruckus on the other end. “Daz I miss youuuuuuuu!”

The voice was absolutely slurred, nearly drowned out by the club music thumping in the background. A few other voices yelled atop his and it seemed like the phone rustled around. 

A new voice, my brother’s. “Daiiiiiissssyyyyy, waiiiiizzyyyyyy, mmaeeeeeeeeee!” 

Then, Ronnie, a stern, calm and collected familiarity, “Daisy? Are you there? Sorry for these idiots. It’s been a crazy ass week and they’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating?” I giggled as she scolded them somewhere away from the speaker. “Celebrating what?” 

“New tour! New song, album, fucking lore!” Ronnie yelled in response. “Sorry- hang on. Max- if you want to talk, come outside!”

The noise lessened, yet a string of voices seemed to follow her outside. I pulled my phone away and optioned to FaceTime them instead. Their faces loaded before me- Ronnie, Max, Sam, and even Cyrus. I grinned wide at the sight. 

Of course I’d kept contact with everyone. Ronnie and Sam helped me move in the off-season, Max visited maybe 3 or 4 times. Cyrus, Adam, and I correspond in the group chat we’d made last summer and now still used. We’d play Minecraft together on the weekends, recommend each other books, and they'd send me samples of new music they were working on. 

Only instrumentals, though. 

They were some of my favorite people. It had just been a month or so since I’d actually spoken to all of them on the phone. I was- usually- working when they were not performing, writing, or traveling. But, this was the first Friday I had gotten off in a while. And, considering the time difference, I was pretty sure they’d just finished some show or something. 

“Ugh, anyways-” Ronnie began and met my eye through the screen. “We’re celebrating, if you couldn’t tell! But, how are you? What are you up to? Max wanted to call cause he said you work too much and probably miss us. Which we all know is true. We miss you Daz!”

Everyone yelled in response, cheering my name and waving and grinning. I could cry, I missed them all so much. “I’m good! I miss you all so much more! Please come visit soon!”

Ronnie glanced back at Sam, so quickly I almost didn’t notice it. She wore a sneaky smirk. “Well, here’s part of the reason we’re celebrating, peaches!”

I jumped up onto the couch, dancing around as they shared the news. They’d be here in a week! Visiting me and my tiny little rundown apartment and shop for an entire month! They had some time off before the next tour cycle started and they could not think of a better place to be. 

“We wanted to see you and help you get settled! We know it’s been a few months, but we basically ditched you at the apartment before we had to get back to Europe. So, clean off the couch, Daz!” Sam pushed his way to the phone to speak to me. I could tell he’d been drinking. His eyes were red, bloodshot and his smile was crooked. Oh, how I loved and missed him. 

But, soon! He’d be here!

We’d be here, together, continuing mom’s legacy. 

It was a dream. Come true. 

One I hadn’t even known existed until I found myself in the streets of Europe. 

But, here she was. Jumping up and down on her thrifted couch with her cat. Her very own cat! Her hair short, her hair chunky streaks of blonde. I was…Daisy. I was Daisy Hatlett, if she had ever existed and taken up space in her own existence. 

I plopped onto the couch. Max took up the screen now. “I’m coming, too, Daz! Clear out the extra bedroom, lovely!”

“Oh, my God! You guys! I don’t think I’m going to be able to house all of you. Next, you’re going to tell me that Cyrus and Adam are coming to stay, too!” I pressed a hand over my eyes, but still could not stop grinning. 

I peeked through my fingers because it went silent on the other end. All I could hear was the thumping of London club music resounding throughout the patio they were hanging out on. 

“Jeez, tell me you hate me, Daisy,” Cyrus spoke up, attempting to break through what I could only describe as awkward silence. 

Max pressed his lips together. “She might. She might.”

“So,” Sam swept the phone from whoever had been holding it and walked away from the crew. “Listen, Daisy. I should have called you when we were all sober to deliver the news, but…um. To make it easier, you know? I don’t…we’re all- basically management heard us talking about visiting. They looked into it and I guess there’s a good recording studio like an hour from you. They want us all to have some privacy in a small town to recuperate and, I guess, chill. But they want the guys to still be able to tweak parts of the album before it comes out. So…yeah, they’re sending us your way. We’re all coming.”

My dream felt like a premonition now. 

It was crazy how, after months and months sober from something, from somebody, after resisting relapse and cravings and a text message that loads after the plane touches down, it’s crazy how you can still feel it. On the tip of your lips. The very drug you’d been getting over. And you could feel, for even just a second, just as helplessly young, dumb, and naive as you had nine months ago. 

“Oliver’s gonna be here? In my town?” I murmured somewhat, knowing I looked stricken. 

Sam nodded sadly. “But…listen, okay. You won’t even have to see him. He’ll be…he’ll be in the hotel or recording most of the time. And…even if you do, Daz, he’s, like, a completely different person. Fuck, he laughs now. Like, all the time. He’ll show us dumb ass memes and laugh-”

“I don’t need to know that,” I shook my head with a giggle that was anything but joyous. “Um…it’ll be fine. It’ll feel-” use those emotions, girl, “weird. But, it’ll be good. I’ll get to see y’all!”

I ran a hand through some of my blonde streaks. Sam watched and trailed the subject off, distracted by the alcohol and my hair. “Daz, you look so pretty. You look…you look so grown. And healthy. So healthy. I love you, sis.”

I pouted my lip at the complement. “Aw, Sam-Ham! I can’t wait to see you!”

And see him, I would. Him and Cyrus and Adam and Ronnie and Max and…and probably Oliver. But, I was not delicate now. I was a grown woman. I was…mature, like Sam had said. I’d finally started to live my life and I wasn’t susceptible to a bacterial growth like Oliver. 

That’s what he was, in mine and my therapist and my friends’ minds. A growth. A tumor. And the old me had died from him. From that, a new Daisy, a healing, evolving Daisy was reborn into whoever the hell she wanted to be. Like a butterfly, I’d emerged from a chrysalis. 

“Send me the details of your flight and I’ll come pick ya’ll up! We can give everybody a tour of our hometown!” I urged him. 

Sam gave me a thumbs up, but Max was talking over him again. “Is she good with it? Does she like the idea? Is she gonna kill us- Daisy!” 

Max gave me heart-eyes through the phone, grinning. “Daisy, I cannot wait to see this flower shop. I cannot wait to help you get it all set up and ready for the grand opening! Have you set a date yet?”

Oh, haha, totally! I have everything together! I wanted to lie through my teeth. But, I know I couldn’t. Instead, I shrugged, “Not really. It’ll happen when it happens. I’m still trying to get settled back into things. I’m unpacking the living room today since I’m off.”

“Blasting Tay-Tay, I’m sure,” Ronnie teasingly rolled her eyes. 

“Hell yeah, girl!”

“Blast our new song!” Max whined, “I love Tay-Tay, you know I do. But get us some streams, babygirl!”

I exited out of the FaceTime app and opened Spotify. I could see their faces in the corner of my screen as they continued yelling. “Yeah, come on! It’s so fucking good, Daz. You’ll love the end part, for sure,” Cy added in. 

“Mayyyybe,” I shrugged, though I did ponder the idea. 

Emergence. 

What a title. 

I wondered about what Sam had said- how Oliver had changed. 

And I wondered if he felt like me, different, aged. New. A butterfly in the place of where a caterpillar had been. A reborn soul in the place of a tumor. 

Maybe I couldn’t listen to it. It would remind me that he’s human. Which, of course, I knew. It was a fact that had helped me heal. But, I think hearing about his own struggle with his identity might send me over the edge. 

I was going out later…and that always meant alcohol, which fixed any reopened scars. Not healthy, I know, but journaling didn’t always feel fun to do. 

“What’s it about?” I ventured, opening back up the FaceTime. 

Cy and Max side-eyed each other. Sam and Ronnie had left a second ago, probably to get drinks. 

“Um,” Max shrugged, “you know who’d you have to ask that question. Sorry, Daz.”

“Well, you helped write it, right, Cy? C’mon, tell meeee,” I pouted again.

Cy shook his head, “I wrote the drums, that’s all. It was…it was all Oliver, hun.”

I rolled my eyes and opened Spotify again. The cover was pretty, all rosy pink flowers. 

It reminded me…God, it reminded me of my mom’s shop. 

I wonder…

Wondering was a dangerous thing. I shut down my brain. 

I talked to them some more, hearing about their most recent tour, The Teeth of God. Though, they had visited off and on when that tour happened, so I basically knew everything, But I loved when Cy and Max told stories. They were hilarious. 

We talked for another half an hour before Ronnie and Sam came back. They made a big deal about some song that was playing in the club and demanded Cy and Max come dance. After a round of phone-hugs, smushy kisses on the camera from Max, and promised-calls from my brother, the sound of a hung up FaceTime call resonated. 

I checked the time. It was somehow nearing 5pm already. My stomach was growling. 

So, though I lingered over the music app with the tip of my thumb, I exited out of the app altogether, I got up and went to make myself dinner.

-

Friday nights in my hometown were busy. 

I noticed after my first few shifts at the local pub. I made more money there from just a three day weekend work week than I had at the clinic. Sure, men were creepy and pigtails brought in more money, but having a surplus of ones was sick. 

All this to say, I was happy to have this evening off. 

I’d reconnected with a few people from high school and they’d been begging me to go out on a Friday. Tonight, Jay and I would be hitting a bar 15 minutes up the street that had a pool, mini golf, and some band headlining the small stage. 

He was knocking on my door around 9pm, just in time for my setting spray to dry and my shot of vodka to kick in. I used to drink to get drunk, and now I just did it to chill. It was fun. 

I opened the door with a chirpy, “Hey!”

Jay, a tall, blonde-headed car salesman, leaned down for a hug. Sure, he had been a frat boy at the local community college and had asshole friends in high school. But, everybody grows out of those embarrassing phases and become…well, he was sweet and paid for dinner when we went, opened the car door when he drove me places, aaaaaand he was a pretty good fuck. Hey, grown up Daisy did grown up things now, like sleep with the captain of her high school football team. 

I squeezed my arms around his neck, catching a whiff of the sweet cologne he was wearing. And- was that smoke? Cigarette smoke? My mind almost flashed back, but I moved on. “Mm, you smell good,” I giggled as I pulled back. 

Jay kissed the corner of my lips, sliding his hand to my fingers. I shut the door and he began trotting us down the steps to the side entrance of my building. “You, too. And you look good, too. I like this skirt.”

His other hand tugged at the bottom of the tight black piece. I giggled again, “Well, thanks. Thought I’d dress up for once.”

“Aw, you don’t have to. You look just as good in your sweatpants as you do this little number.”

We loaded into his car as we talked, soon rolling down the road. We were not together. And, no it was not because I had developed some weird attachment issues. I was really just looking for a low-commitment fling while I went through this major transition in my life. And Jay’s wife had just left him for some lawyer in the big city up North. 

We had the same needs and wants right now. 

We had a good time at the bar, sloshing back shots every once in a while, dancing on the tiny little dance floor beside the similarly mini-stage. I was no longer a light-weight now that I regularly drank, like normal people my age. So, it took a few extra Dirty Shirley’s and Long Islands to get me to the point that made this night out really fun. We went from playing pool to practically mosh-pitting to Mr. Brightside. Jay went so far as to volunteer to sing with the band and I became their honorary tambourine-girl. I demanded a photoshoot and drunkenly posted the pictures to Instagram with the caption, “FEEL THE BEAT!!!”

Eventually, the night started to wind down. We drove back to mine (old Daisy would have had an aneurysm if she knew I was letting someone drunk drive me) and had sex on my couch. The cat was still an adjustment for me, considering she liked to sit by the picture window and just stare at me. 

When it was over, Jay picked her up and held her to his bare chest, boxers low on his hips. “You’re a little creep, aren’t ya?”

I giggled as she nuzzled into his neck, purring through her sweet little mouth, “She really is. I don’t know how to get her to stop either.”

Jay sat on the arm rest and Eve jumped from his arms, back to her spot on the windowsill. He leaned down close to me and wrapped a hand around my cheek. “I have a pretty good idea.”

He was flirting, making a pass for another round. I blushed, nonetheless, and kissed his wrist. “What might that be?” I smiled coyly. 

Jay took my lips in his, a supple kiss, before whispering and nipping at my ear, “The bedroom has a door.”

I let him kiss me until I was in his arms, his hands strong under my thighs. He sobered me up through another restless round of (sure, vanilla) sex. Afterwards, he curled me into him, a deep sigh rattling from his chest. 

“What was that?” I laughed, rearing my head back to see him better. “Something to share?”

Jay shared my laugh, though there was a deep, distant look that settled in his eyes. “No, no…well…I don’t know. I was just thinking…”

“Oh, no,” I mocked, “is the world ending?”

“Oh, Zee,” he pretended to squeeze me to death. “No, I just…we’ve been going out for some time now.”

Oh. 

Oh!

Ohhhh….

“Yeah?” I sat up now, his arms falling off of me. 

Jay followed, slowly, cautiously. Was he feeling how I had felt when Oliver passed me off like this?

I pushed that observation away. It burned going down. 

“I just…you have to know that I’m really into you, Zee.”

The nickname felt weird. And I felt…weird. This all felt weird. 

“Jay, I…” i raised my hand to stop him, but he kept going. 

“Honestly, I think I’m falling for you. I have to tell you before we end up hurting each other. Because I know you must feel it, too-”

“I’m gonna be sick!”

I rushed from the bed and to the bathroom, a few steps down the hall. Jay called after me, unaffected by the rush, “Oh- okay! Let me know if you need anything!”

I shut the bathroom door behind me. Slid down it’s wooden spine. Pulled my legs to my chest. I was breathing heavily. I didn’t even need to throw up, I just- I needed away. It was suffocating in there. 

I thought that this was just a casual thing, but I guess not. 

And now I just felt- like shit, to be honest. 

I tip-toed back into the room just to see if he was asleep or not. Luckily, he was passed out, jaw loose, snores coming from the back of his throat. He worked long hours.  I praised the universe for the saving grace and continued to pray that he would forget about his conversation by the morning. While he was snoring, I put on some pj’s and went out to the living room. I sat beside Evie on the bench by the big picture window, watching as the moon turned red. A blood moon. I didn’t even know that was today. 

I got up to grab my journal and sat back down. Something in me stirred. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the phone call earlier. Maybe it was this confession from Jay. 

Maybe it was that dumb fucking dream. But I was missing London. I was missing the dirty streets of Paris and the spitfire rain in Ireland. I missed the gray skies and seeing my brother everyday. 

I missed Oliver. 

I let myself feel it. I had fought it for so long, but now I just tried to accept it. It was okay to miss people. I loved him, after all. But, this feeling usually passed after a moment. 

I opened my journal and wrote about it. I wrote about how it slickened my throat and made my chest feel tight, the regret, the missing, the moving on. 

It was worse than normal. It wouldn’t go away. It screamed in my heart and burned my head. 

I don’t know why. I was over it (wasn’t I?) but my head started to race. He was…alive. Despite the fact that I didn't even know who he was anymore. He was doing things and moving on with his life. Me, too. I guess. 

Oliver was a living and breathing person. His life didn’t end when our love did. That was hard to wrap my mind around. Though I was doing the same thing. 

He was still writing songs, touring shows, painting himself in black every night. Writing songs.

And here I was- buying my mom’s old flower shop with Sam, moving back to our hometown, deciding I didn’t want to go to grad school. 

Emergence. Out from underneath…

He was still…growing. I was growing. We were growing- away from each other. 

Something about tonight, the blood moon or the information that he had released a song…something unravelled in me.

I could not stop thinking about him. 

Was he sleeping with somebody, too? Was he dating some girl? Was she the reason for this new song? Was she clutching his bicep in the busy streets of London and laughing in the park in Paris while he told some stupid joke?

Was he falling in love with her? Was he confessing like Jay had? Or was he detached like me, unable to really move on from what we had last summer? 

Unable to love somebody else the same way he loved me. 

And then I found myself going through our text messages. God, I was really spiraling. 

I’d deleted them when I got back home from London, but then my phone took a shit and I got a new one. Here, the iCloud hadn’t been backed up in so long that it reverted back to how it was when I’d boarded the plane. Oliver text messages and all. 

Even the notification I’d gotten when I landed, the one I deleted, silenced, and never even opened. Airplane mode only lasted until you turned it off. Then, whatever failed to deliver just…popped up, wooshed through the atmosphere and over the seas. 

It still was unread, and I ignored it even as I scrolled all the way up to the start and took myself through the journey of last summer. 

Oh, Daisy…

The words he used, the things he told me. Fuck- the picures he sent me. I found myself wet again even though I’d just been relieved twice. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The names he called me. 

Love, darling…

Sneak to my room later- meet me after the show- you tasted good. 

Fragments of messages raced past my vision. Blurred. Anxious. It was all coming back, though I am not sure now that it had ever really left.

How could I have ever forgotten about him? Sure, my body lost the memory of him. But, even then, I think if I squeezed my eyes shut enough, I might be able to replicate the feeling, pretend Jay’s blonde hair was dark brown, that his blue eyes were that sweet greenish-tan. Pretend that his hands, strong, sure, were the toned ones of a certain Brit, fingers strong from piano and guitar playing. That his voice was laced with an accent, his tooth crooked but beautifully supple atop his pink, plump lips.

And, then…there was his spirit. The things he liked- the coffee and Ray Bradbury books. The song about someone being a fisherman and that poem about that fisherman painting looking over the top of a love affair. The signals he always sent me through these coded messages. 

I’d forgotten that one. 

But, there it was- a link to a PDF, an offer to let me borrow that book that he loved. 

Reading it now- 

“You lie bent up in embryo sleep

below the painting of the blue fisherman

                             without a pillow…

I watch you and wonder at you.

I know your face by touch when it's dark

I know the profile of your sleeping face

the sound of you sleeping…

I know the hills

         and gullys of your body

                   the curves

                             the turns.

But there are times

when you can smile in such a way

that I'd forget a ten year war

and lie down in your shadows' shadow

and live on sounds your stomach makes…

But there is little salvage to be had

in bent and broken nails

and things that might have been

if I'd had wiser eyes

or been a fisherman

                         in blue.”

Had I been that naive?

He never used the words directly, but it was clear now, how vivid that love was that he had for me. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

There was something else. Something I could not quite place. What- what the fuck was it? Nudging at my brain like Evie nudged at my thighs. 

I smelled it. I smelled it somewhere. I traced the smell, sniffing through the air like a deranged lady. I sniffed the edge of the couch. It was there but it was- faint. Like it was a lifetime ago. Then, Jay’s t-shirt on the arm rest. Warmer. His coat- dangling off the coat rack. I patted the pockets and there it was- a pack of cigarettes. I was an addict moving through the world, tracking down the scent of a drug or a drink like a pack dog.

I held them in my hands, squishing the pack. Then, gently, I brought it to my nose and sniffled the aroma. Cigarette smoke. 

Oliver. 

The roof. The pool. The city. The look of his cheeks cinching in as he breathed in the cigarette smoke. The smell as he held my hair back and I puked on the streets of London. The smell of his fingertips on my cheek. The taste of him after I chased him down in the hotel elevator. Me quipping to him that it would fucking kill him- him laughing. 

His laugh, fuck his laugh. Fuck, holy shit. I was weeping a little bit now. 

I wonder if he could feel it, 12 million miles away from me. I pinched myself like a voodoo doll and willed the feeling. 

It smelled like a part of me that I had pushed down for months. Healed, sure, but pushed away.

The part of me that had loved him. 

I took a cigarette from the pack and felt around his pockets for a lighter. Then, ashamedly, looking around the apartment like someone was going to catch me in the act, I slipped on some shoes and a hoodie. 

I took the stairs down to the flower shop and weaved my way through boxes. I took a seat on the stool behind the counter, crossed my leg over the other. It was freezing- nights in May were never warm. But I ignored goosebumps, embraced them, almost, and kept moving. 

I lit the cigarette without ever touching it to my lips. I watched as the edge caught the flame then set the cigarette on the counter. I typed through my phone, searching for something on Spotify. I hit play. 

Emergence. 

I lay my head on my hands, propped upon the counter, eyes practically crossed as I watched the cigarette burn. I closed my eyes, breathed in his smell, and listened…

Come on, come on out from underneath who you were…

I looped the song. Once, twice. A fifth time. And, then…

I opened the text. 

I didn’t know who I was right now. This wasn’t the old Daisy, but it wasn’t the new Daisy, either. This was someone entirely new. Someone…

Someone who needed to know the answers. Someone who still could not believe it. 

Someone. Just someone. 

“Daisy, I need to tell you a few things. If you do not want to hear me out, that is okay. You do not owe me the time nor the space to speak my truth. But, I don’t think I would able to live if I did not do so.’’

Crying. Sobbing. I took a moment to breathe in- cigarette smoke- and centered myself. 

“Fiona is somebody who I used to lo-”

I stopped there. I deleted the message. 

I relapsed, if only for the night. I let myself revel in the drug, revel in the burning memory of him, if only to just get it all out again, if only to just fulfill the prophecy and will of that fucking dream.

Then- I went back upstairs and lay myself underneath Jay’s arm. 

I listened to his soft snoring as I fell asleep, sniffing and smelling like cigarette smoke. 

[gainerstories]

Here's my story (with all its ups and downs). I hope you enjoy it.

I've been interested in a gaining ever since that switch got flipped on in puberty, but I never thought I would properly go for it. I was unintentionally a chubby (and then a fat) kid and teenager before becoming anorexic in late high school and slimming down to around 67kg. At 6'3" I was very skinny. Too skinny. Even with my ups and downs my perception of myself (prior to COVID) was that I wasn't a gainer. I was an encourager/admirer. I enjoyed watching others grow, but not myself.

In the few years after high school I slowly returned to a healthy size. I started lifting weights and my body settled in the 70s. In my early 20s I had my first foray into intentional gaining: I experimented with a bit of a bulk. Why not, right? This was also around the time I first joined Grommr and I got a little excited. It was a dirty bulk, no question about it. I'd go to the gym and pick up burgers on the way home. I bought mass gainer for protein shakes that I'd chug after working out. Over the next 18 months I beefed (and porked) up to around 95 kilos. I wasn't crazy muscular or anything but I had arms and shoulders for the first time and I felt good, but my belly and lovehandles plumped up a bit too. I was exploring. It didn't last, though. Life got in the way: by then I was in the process of finishing uni and starting my first proper job in my chosen field (a stressful and time-consuming endeavour), and I moved in with some friends who didn't eat much and I found myself being self-conscious about being too much of a glutton around them. I was working out still, and all these factors combined saw me slim down to a lean 80kg by age 25. Even after I got my my own place I stayed at that size for years: it became my default. I was tall and slender (though I still had stubborn lovehandles). I wore size 32s and size smalls and mediums. I was strictly an encourager/admirer. I knew who I was, and thought it would be that way forever.

Then I turned 30. After all those years I got a little bored at the gym, going a few times a week and my body staying at the same old 80kg. I decided I might try my hand at bulking up again. Nothing crazy, but maybe lifting more and eating more, and seeing if I could do something different, and get some bigger arms. Over several months I thickened up a little to around 87kg. I was getting stronger, but the growth wasn't too drastic. I wasn't fat, or really muscular, more I was just a little thicker and maybe had a bit of a pot-belly. I was in size 32s and 34s, and wearing mediums, but I felt a little self-conscious in them with my new softness. I wasn't looking to grow more, but this is the state I was in when COVID found me.

When social distancing came in I found I took to it like a cheese to a burger. I was always a bit of a homebody so staying home in my little unit all the time didn't bother me. I was incredibly fortunate that I could work from home and that my job was not terribly impacted by things. But all of a sudden the gym (which had been part of my life for a decade) was out. They were still open, but in the circumstances it just seemed like too much of a risk. I tried doing some home workouts for a bit, but I didn't have the equipment or space. Add to this a tiny bit of the medieval "eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die" and I started to indulge my hungrier urges. It wasn't something I set out to do. Not at first. But as the months wore on I was eating more snacks just to have something to do, and ordering more home delivery to avoid going out. I got up to 91kg, by which time things had settled into a new normal. The big leap came in mid-2021. By then I'd started being more active again and got down to around 86kg. Then some COVID cases meant we went into full lockdown for a week. In that week is when, pretty much on a whim, the gainer-brain finally properly flipped on and I made the choice: I was going to grow. All the things that had accrued since COVID were back: the excess snacking, the no exercise, the sheer hunger. I was going to finally let go and see where it took me. I would do fast food binges on the regular. My meal of choice was two large double quarter pounder meals and two cheeseburgers. Other times I would get multiple burgers and large chips from KFC, or pizza meal deals with 4 pizzas. Every time I'd stuff myself like that I felt like such a fatboy, and it was incredible.

By the end of 2021 I was a chubby 100kg. My lovehandles broadened, my belly grew softer and jigglier, and my thighs thickened. I'd moved up to size 36, and size large across the board. I kept going, eating whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. The following year I worked almost exclusively from home and ended 2022 a bit over 110kg and was firmly in size 38s and XLs. After years of a relatively narrow face it was now plumping up with a second chin. I've always kept a beard, though, so I was becoming more and more bearish. It was around this time people definitely started to notice (and to make clear that they noticed). The comments rolled in: "Are you eating properly?" "Are you still exercising?" My brother told me straight to my face I had gotten fat. I saw the swift, glancing stares at my body when people were talking to me (especially ones I hadn'tseen in a while). I was self-conscious, but when I was at home gorging myself I didn't care.

Another year of this lifestyle went by and at the end of 2023 I was 120kg: 1.5 times the man I was at what I call my starting weight of 80kg. My chest and belly filled out more and I've become an unmistakably fat man. In the year since then I've hit a bit of a plateau, and I'm currently (at the start of 2025) around 123kg. I still have some size 38s but they're too tight to be comfortable and it's a struggle to get them on. I'm much more comfortable in 40s, but their days are definitely numbered. I generally wear 2XLs (it depends on the brand and the type of clothing: a 2XL button down shirt blatently strains against my large, blubbery belly so for work I need 3XLs). Tshirts are easier, but I need to make sure I get long tees otherwise my belly peeks out. There's no hiding how fat I am now. My gut and lovehandles are prominent in everything I wear, even (perhaps especially) in baggy clothes. My thighs rub so I have a bit of a rolling gait when I walk. I'm nowhere near as fit as I used to be. My belt buckle digs into my overhang when I sit down for too long. It's hard to find clothes that fit me well, and I have boxes and boxes of old clothes and suits that have no chance of ever fitting me again. Sometimes I go through them and try them on. It really drives home just how much I've transformed myself.

After just a few years here I am: the biggest, fattest man I've ever been, trying to grow bigger (I'm literally drinking a gainer shake while I write this). Sometimes I wonder what would have happened without COVID, and whether I would have chosen a different path. But we're here now so I am what I am: a big, growing man, and it's wonderful.

Wow, nothing like an admirer turned absolute fat ass gainer. All thanks to the pandemic!

[sunshineandspencer]

heyyy!! idk if you take requests or anything but I was listening the song “Three Letters” from She Loves Me and heard the line “If it weren’t for your endearing letters/ I’d be flying south will all the geese” and totally thought of Garcia signing up Spencer for a lonely hearts thing (as a kinda joke kinda not) and so he starts writing the reader but don’t know it’s each other. then they agree to meet somewhere and realize it’s each other and?! idk if that makes sense lol thought it was cute though

Three Letters (Request)

A/N: Hello!!!! I definitely do. I just haven’t had the chance to sort it all out (colds and farming sims own my life) but let me tell you this idea has me kicking and screaming. I’ve done something like this before but I can’t find it for the life of me and I love the idea that they’re writing to each other and just don’t realise - I took it as the sense that they’re co-workers and Garcia signed them both up, not expecting them to get each other. I really hope this is what you were looking for!! Also I have never heard of a lonely hearts thing (I’m British) but I love the idea of it, and hope that it’s definitely what google told me it is.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Garcia is tired of Spencer being single, and if the only way to fix that is to sign him up for a singles pen-pal society, then so be it. While she’s at it, let her add their other co-worker as well, there’s no way that could have any impact.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: fluff, implied sa but nothing detailed

be added to the taglist

Some part of him knew that this was a good thing, that talking to someone and hopefully getting a relationship out of this was a good thing.

However, Penelope - loving, caring, thoughtful Penelope - had been hard at work ever since she met him to find him somebody to love. It.. hadn’t gone well, and that is the politest possible way he could’ve phrased that without hurting her feelings.

First there were the dates, with a collection of either Penelope, JJ or Elle’s friends - none of which had turned out great.

In fact, one woman had stormed out the minute she saw him, because she assumed that FBI agents were all muscle and Spencer was the last thing she wanted to see. Another zoned out every single time he started talking, just humming or nodding until even he realised that she wasn’t interested.. she fell asleep in her damn salad. The final straw, however, was the woman who got outrageously drunk and tried to blatantly ignore his aversion to touch.

He got out of that as soon as he found her friend to get her home safely, and swore off ever trusting a date from any of those three women ever again.

Penelope, however, didn’t give up.

Her next plan of attack started online, with dating websites. Notorious in their line of work for usually being full of catfish and UnSubs, and many dating websites led to men and women being murdered. But she’s insistent, and he’s desperate to love somebody.

There are only several things that went better than his first foray into the online dating scene, and one of those is a vehicular fire, which tells you all you need to know.

Several of the women he matched with ended up only looking for someone to help them cheat on their significant others, many of them married. Which made his bright outlook on love slightly dimmer. The final woman from the online dating websites was the woman who turned out to actually be an UnSub - looking for cute young men to complete her ‘collection’, a human version of an antique doll set.

It was not a fun case to take part in, certainly not when he was greeted with the way he would’ve turned out had he met up with the woman and not done a background check on her first.

After that, he firmly shut down Penelope’s insistence on dating apps as well, his technophobia had barely survived having to use a computer for so long, and the library computers were an embarrassing place to try and match with the ‘love of his life’. So an app on his phone. Absolutely not.. he doesn't even know how to do that.

There was a break, a few months where Penelope didn’t try to push him into anything new or exciting, or downright horrifying. He turned twenty-four, he had a failed date with JJ, in which she actually bought along Penelope, and suddenly it all changed.

In his letterbox a couple weeks after that, was a letter. It had his home address on, but not his name, merely addressed to whoever this may concern.

It was gorgeous craftsmanship, a cream envelope with an actual lilac wax stamp on the back, with little flowers pressed into the wax. Of course, assuming this was an incoming case, he called Garcia to try and trace it, where she finally came clean.

“I’m so sorry! I completely forgot, I signed you up to a lonely hearts club. It’s a small society for two single people to exchange letters anonymously so you can get to know each other over time. It’s all handwritten! I thought you’d like that more than having to use a computer again. I’m sorry pumpkin, I- I can take you out of the society if you like?”

He thought about it, he actually thought about it so long that Penelope actually thought he’d hung up on her, or died, or something else entirely because he’s never this quiet.

But.. how bad could it really be?

It could, theoretically, be terrible, but it can’t hurt to try one last thing. He would have contact with whoever this is - he’s assuming a woman from the handwriting and the care gone into just the envelope alone - and if it all goes to hell then it just wasn’t meant to be.

One last try at love, he can grant himself that. Anonymously, he can do that, give himself a pen name and try to fall for words on a page - his written word was always better than his verbal flirting anyway.

As it turned out, however, he didn’t need to give himself a name, she’d given him one already.

“Hello sweet thing! Sorry if that comes off as too strong already, I’m just incredibly nervous and didn’t know what else to call you, so that is officially your name from now on. Unless you hate it, then you can absolutely tell me and I promise not to cry about it. I really don’t know what to say, do I start with my favourite things? Well.. I like Doctor Who, and I’ve always--”

The more he read of the letter, the more he wished it was even longer. This woman, wherever she is, whoever she is, is starting to make this out as the best idea Penelope has ever had.

He all but crashed his way into the stationary store, grabbing the prettiest envelopes and pens, and little details to add to the letter that he was so excited to add. Steamrolling through the store and getting back home to quickly respond. Instantly realising he was being far more.. poetic than he meant.

It was the combination of the childish excitement of having a penpal, his mother reading him love poems as a child, and his extensive knowledge on love letters.

Hell, he even ended his own letter with a Shakespeare quote. Basic, he knows, but it’s hard to think of anything beyond wanting her reply.

“‘Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.’ Yours, Sweet thing.”

It had been nearly three months of exchanging letters, and he was absolutely smitten with this woman. They had stuck to the rules and not given away any of their information, only talking about the things they like and eventually writing nearly daily.

It would be daily if it weren’t for the useless postage system.

He knows that she lives pretty close to him, he knows her address, plus they’d both admitted to searching each other’s houses, and they’re only about twenty minutes away by car.

That’s it, however, they haven’t looked for the other person despite being desperate for it.

They had described themselves through letters, but both ultimately agreed to just talk and see how it goes and base their furthering relationship off that rather than off their looks. Of course, that just sprung up more worries that he won’t visually be enough whenever they finally meet.

Meeting was, by far, the one thing he both wanted and dreaded.

This woman, who he had only ever addressed with a barrage of cute nicknames and poetical references, who understood his every word and reciprocated his nerdy obsessions and added her own.. he wants to know her so badly.

There is a very big underlying fear that the minute they meet, it’ll be over, the magic of what they are will fade and he’ll lose all this. The thought of her letters being sent to someone else physically pains him.

Penelope, ecstatic that one of her ideas had finally worked, had been badgering to meet with his ‘mystery woman’ for weeks now.

Finally, when she also, tentatively asked to meet with him for Valentine’s Day of all days, he knew she couldn’t deny her a single thing. Not when she sent with her letter, a coupon for flowers on their date.

A date. God.. he has a date for Valentine’s Day.

Not really a holiday he’s ever put much thought into before, but now it suddenly felt like the most important day that had ever existed. And one that came up far sooner than he expected it to.

Even with the place booked - a cute little café a little ways between both their apartments - and his outfit picked, and a card and little teddy picked with the help of Penelope, he didn’t feel ready. Perhaps it’s the lingering fear of rejection the minute she has to deal with him in person, or the fact that his last dates certainly didn’t go well.

Even with Penelope’s reassurance that she’ll adore him, especially after she actually read through his twelve page letter after she’d asked for his opinion on Egyptian mythology. Sending back her own absurdly long letter with a bunch more questions and her own fun facts that she could remember. He’s still absolutely losing his mind at the thought of having to finally meet her.

He got to the café about half an hour earlier than he needed to, wanting to make sure it was perfect (definitely not because he would’ve gone insane at home).

Spending whatever time it took for her to arrive making the table look nice, messing with his hair in the reflection and wondering if it really was getting too long. Constantly fixing his tie, and redoing it a hundred times over and tucking into his maroon cardigan sweater which Elle had called ‘dorky’.

Once it got to fifteen minutes before their date should’ve started, he felt a light tap on his shoulder, immediately rushing to get up and turn to meet his mystery writer. But.. it’s just the waiter, asking if he wanted another drink.

Jesus, they probably think he’s been stood up, and he quickly asks for another glass of water. 

As the man walked away, he ran his fingers through his hair again, looking towards the door - he’d been sat with his back facing it or else he wouldn’t have stopped staring for fifteen minutes.

Immediately, someone was looking at him, a vague sense of recognition swimming across her face. For a few split seconds he thinks it could be her, a beautiful woman with a bouquet of purple lilac blooms in her hands, but then he realises who it is, offering a small wave.

She’s friends with Penelope and, by extension, he’s spoken to and interacted with her quite a few times. They got on pretty well but never anything more than that since she’s always busy, part of the FBI’s CSI unit, and she’d even helped on a few cases before. But she isn’t here for him, she can’t be.

Walking over, she gives him a bright smile, eyes darting to the empty table and three empty water glasses - he’s been here for a while.

“Spencer! Hi! It’s nice to see you.”

“You too, I like the outfit.”

Looking down at herself for a few moments, she grins and then looks back up, doing a quick spin and then settling him with a mock-serious look.

“I’ve got a hot date, Penny said he would like this.”

“You look beautiful, don’t worry.”

Ahh, there goes any chance that she’s here for him, offering a smile and reassuring her that she looks great, eyes darting behind her to the door as she bounced on the balls of her feet. Eventually sucking a deep breath between her teeth and looking back as well.

Which got his attention, especially when she looked around the rest of the café with a confused look on her face. Sighing softly and looking around, his date wasn’t here, may as well help her.

“What does he look like?”

Turning back, she offered him a bashful smile, but she wasn’t going to turn down his offer of help, not when he’s tall and can see over all the stupid tall people around the café. Also.. it’s a very weird thing to explain.

Moving a hand to fidget with her necklace, his eyes focusing on it, vividly remembering her letters.

“--honestly, I have the coping mechanisms of a child. I still play with my necklace when I get nervous.”

“I don’t actually know, it’s sort of a blind date. Really hard to explain, Penelope kind of set us up in a way. I’m actually about fifteen minutes early so he’s probably not even here.”

There is.. no way this is happening right now. She’s still looking around the café for her mystery date, who might just be standing in front of her and he.. doesn’t know what to say or how to get his tongue to pick up from the base of his mouth.

Suddenly, and pretty violently, he’s flooded with the personality of the woman he’s been talking to for months, all of it projected onto her in front of him. It matches, from what he remembers.

The vague descriptions, her proximity to the FBI building, the fact she knows Penelope, the little TARDIS pin he’d seen on her lanyard that he never got the nerves to ask her about. Turning up to a date with a guy she doesn’t know, holding a bouquet of flowers that clearly weren’t for her, causing the flower token in his back pocket to start burning.

Fishing it out and stepping closer, getting her attention, surprised eyes snapping up to meet his at his sudden proximity. Until he took her hand and shoved the handmade coupon into it, her breathing immediately coming in short as they both looked down at it. Her voice trembled slightly.

“Oh~ hello sweet thing..”

“.. hello.” At his soft voice, she looked up and she gave him a completely bashful smile that matched the cute little poetic ramblings she’s been obsessed with for months. “Uhm, are those for me then?”

They both looked down at the flowers in her hands and she handed them over, feeling her heart shoot up into her throat as their hands brushed. Pointing at the purple lilac blooms as if he wouldn’t already know the meaning.

Needing to focus on something other than the fact that she’s going to kiss Penelope Garcia hard on the mouth for this.

“They uh- they are usually given to someone you meet for the first time, and signify the first emotions of love. Kind of love at first sight- not- not that I’m saying I’m in love with you, that would be a crazy thing to say on the first date- absolutely crazy--”

He eventually shut her up, leaning down to peck her lips softly, all nerves and panicked rambling dropped to just look up at him, in utter awe. Okay, maybe she can fall in love with him, she’s already halfway there with a month of letters.

Carefully, he guided her to their table with a hand on the small of her back as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and also he’d just kissed her to shut her up, and it worked.

“It’s fine, I love them, really. And Penelope was right, as your date I love the outfit.”

“Thank you, I love your sweater and-- ohmygod--”

As they sat down at the table, she buried her face into her hands, causing him to panic slightly, reaching out to carefully touch her shoulder. Saying her name worriedly as he set the flowers onto the table.

But she just looked up with a soft whine of embarrassment, peaking at him over her fingers.

“I called you my hot date to your face! That’s so embarrassing.”

Instantly relieved that it wasn’t anything he’d done, easing into a soft laugh and leaning back in his chair after squeezing her shoulder.

“It was cute! You didn’t even know who I was and you still called me hot.”

“It’s mortifying, you’ll never forget it and use it in your wedding vows or something.”

Sure, she was joking, but in the back of his head he filed something away for the future. A tiny, mental box, labelled ‘wedding vows’, wondering how long it would be until he could actually use that. 

Until then, he’d have to stick to ordering dinner on their first date.

Want more?! Good!

taglist ( ˘ ³˘)♥ @peliides @peachsodameg @angelinajolie0213 @jiggly-puff-12 @khxna @kennedy2156 @trulycayla @none-of-your-bullshit @alexxavicry @meg-black @princess76179 @khxna @chicken-fifi  (if your tag is here and it doesn't work, check your settings to see who is allowed to tag you or this might not work)

[flowwsblog]

You’re so warm—

a/n; I’m new to the community soo please don’t be too harsh on me 😭😭 (But I need the feedback anyways). Also this fic is going to be pretty long for my first, (it being in two parts lol) but enjoy!!

Timothee!Willy wonka x f!Reader

Summary: in which reader has trouble falling asleep and runs into a certain someone. What could happen?

Warnings: pure fluff 😊

You had been working at the ‘laundry covered prison’- as you and noodle had called it- for a couple years now.

You had gotten there same as everyone, looking for a cheepy place to stay in this economy; and failed to read the fine print. So there was obviously something suspicious going on.

Worse led to worse as Mrs. Scrubbit had enslaved you (which is how you saw it) and forced you to do laundry work. Along with all the other fellow workers/people trapped in the dusty basement.

You befriended each one of them as time went by, not having any other choice. But being the second youngest one there; noodle was the first one you immediately grew close too.

And one day while scrubbing some old laundry, you heard a yell. Well everyone did.

Everyone’s attention shot towards the clothing shute, where a lanky, frightened looking young man had been thrown down.

____________

Ever since that day, your life couldn’t have been more interesting. The man, whose name you learned was Willy Wonka, was the most amazing human you had ever met. He was a magician, chocolatier, and humungous dreamer. What better man to sweep you off your feet?

But welcoming a handsome new guest meant bunking with someone else. Mrs. Scrubbit did not want the fuss of fixing up a new bedroom, leading to Mr. Wonka inhabiting your old room.

You loved noodle, she was like a little sister to you, so you did not complain in the slightest to sharing a room with her.

_____________

One night, you couldn’t sleep. You grabbed a thin blanket and wrapped it around your lightly trembling body. You made sure noodle was wrapped sorta-snug in the worn out bed before descending from the room.

Your thin loafers tapped the cold wooden floor lightly, wandering down the hall to the bathroom. As you walked by a certain door, your steps faltered, but soon continuing its journey to the wash room.

You and wonka has become close friends, similar to the friendship of yours and noodles, but being closer age wise made things different. You hadn’t talked to a boy your age since grade school, so having a male presence now made you exceedingly nervous.

Upon becoming comfortable with Willy, his presence had started to take a toll on you. Butterflies erupting when he would get particularly close. Or breath faltering when he would just, be in the room? You were confused. Maybe it was his shiny, chocolate colored curls or his full green eyes that lured you towards him. But whatever it was, you were hooked.

You closed the door and turned on the light, eyes squinting from the brightness; your handing coming up to shield them.

You turned on the sink and splashed water on your face. The water being cold not helping. You just wiped your face and turned off the light; heading out. This trip definitely helped.

As you opened the door you see another door opening. Expecting noodle’s small body to come out and ask why you left. Instead you get a taller, handsomer is that a word, man leaving his room. Rubbing his eyes softly.

You sigh, ‘What great timing!’, You think sarcastically to yourself. You carefully approach him and smile.

“Hi y/n” he hums with a sleepy smile. Which makes your stomach flutter. “What ya’ doin up so late?”

“Oh nothing, I can’t sleep. And you?” You turn to face him, studying his defined cheekbones and messy curls. Beautifully misplaced from sleep.

“Hm, I heard something and thought it was the little orange man coming to steal my chocolate again. But I’m glad it was you.” Your face grew 10 shades of pink at the comment. God, if he knew how he made you feel you would be in such trouble, or worse, jail. You’re glad it was dark or else he would’ve seen your embarrassing reaction. You smiled nonetheless. “Thank you Mr. Wonka”

He smiled at the name, knowing he prefers being called Willy.

“Well I’m gonna get going to my room, it’s cold out here.” You let out a half hearted chuckle and turned to leave, wanting him to stop you so badly. “Good night wil-“

He grabbed your arm gently, as if he was broken from a trance. “Wait y/n.”

You turned your head, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “Yes?”

_______________

a/n; that’s part 1 guys 🙏🏼🙏🏼

I already have an idea in which part 2 will be posted so stay tuned! It’ll be soon :) 👐 thank you for reading!! Don’t forget to leave notes💞

[anontheghost]

Fixing Stolitz (Non-Romance Version)

First of all, I will start by saying that the Stolas and Blitz relationship had a lot of unused potential to do something really interesting. A dark romance between an extremely powerful demon prince and one of hell’s lower classes? Sign me right up. 

However, due to several bad writing decisions and the insistance of the creator to make the ship canon no matter what, all that potential went down the drain as it turned into something creepy and extremely unhealthy no matter what angle you look at it.

However, there is a key moment that, in my humble opinion, ruined the ship since episode 1: The Full Moon Deal.

Of course, there are additional things that made the relationship a challenge to begin with: The enormous class difference, Stola’s own prejudice towards imps, Blitz’s own walls due to trauma, Stola's inmortality, etc. But for this to work in one way or another, the extremely coercive Full Moon Deal needs to be erased or changed:

I have to versions on how this relationship may work: In one, there is no romance involved and is strictly a business relationship with the possibility of friendship and the other is a complicated romance about two people who may like each other but whose own circumstances may prevent them from truly being together.

So, without further do... Let's begin!

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

At this point, Stolas did not know if he should step in. 

Sure, he wanted to teach the stupid? brave? little imp who thought it was a good idea to steal his Grimoire a lesson. But honestly, this was getting a little ridiculous; it was almost entertaining. 

40 minutes have already passed, and the imp was still trying to lift the Grimoire with no signs of giving up. No matter how many times he flipped, felt in ground or how many muscles he strained, he just kept going. 

Others would have already left, running away scared, fearful of the consequences that such actions may take.

But not him.

Curious, now he was trying to use one of his heavier books to push the Grimoire towards the edge. A relatively clever tactic if it wasn’t for the small detail that he would have to pick it up from the floor later on.

The imp didn't enter the palace by himself; two others followed him in secret. They appeared to be a pair, and they were a little smaller than him. Also, they knocked down two of his best maids and stole their uniforms to “blend in.”

Naturally, though, he would not have been duped by those poor disguises. From the cook who makes his meals to the gardener who assists him in caring for his plants, he is familiar with the names and faces of each and every one of his subordinates. He hasn't, as far as he can recall, employed any more maids, especially two who were blatantly unprepared for the position. 

They weren’t even pretending to work at this point; they were just standing guard outside of his study, where the taller imp was still trying to steal one of the most powerful magical artifacts hell possessed and failing miserably.

 "Okay, stupid book,” The imp suddenly spoke, tired that the book simply refused to move, “I don’t like you and you don’t like me, but you are going to make Daddy really rich, so please move already!”

“Sir!” one of the smaller imps said, “Please keep quiet! What about the plan of taking the book and then leaving?”

“That was until I found out that this little book weighted the same as four elephants!” The imp shouted ever higher. "This thing is not bigger than a dictionary! How is this possible?!”

Because the book senses your lack of magic

Also, he hates being disturbed.

The imp jolted from the scare and confusion and before he tried to escape, I decided that it was time for us to have a little meeting. 

O)O)O)O)O0o0o)O)O)O

In handsight, Blitz always knew this idea was terrible.

Stealing a powerful magical artifact from one of hell’s great princes? That can easily be considered a suicide mission. However, sometimes you need to do crazy things in order to put food on the table. 

Imps offering assassination services were common in hell. Being one of the few jobs imps could still do while maintaining financial independence, it was a popular career choice.

Unfortunately, that meant a lot more competition. It meant another crew offering to do the killing at a much cheaper price and stealing customers from them. If things continue the way they were going, their little company won’t last much longer.

During a one-night stand with a sinner a few months prior to the robbery, he had the brilliant idea that would save his business. They said that he would give the sinner all his money if he could murder his violent parents and send them to hell.

“They are the reason I ended up in this trash dump! I would have probably become a better person if they weren’t pieces of shit.” He remembers the sinner saying, "It is not fair that they are still up there living the high life while I am suffering here!”

How many sinners would pay him handsomely to kill the people who wronged them on  earth? There is no other assassin crew offering those services so there would be no competition; they could charge double if they want to!

Who knows, they might even save enough for an office... but he didn’t want to set his expectations way to high.

Now… How, in the name of everything unholy, are they going to go to earth?

In order for a demon to enter the human realm, they must first obtain special authorization from one of the seven deadly sins. This process is not easy and can take months or even years. The only way for it to be expedited is if one of the sins sends the demon on a special mission, which hasn't occurred in more than a century.

In other words, it would be literally impossible for him and his all-imp crew to get their hands in one of those.

There were also the succubus, who were probably the only beings in hell who were granted permission to go to earth on the regular, thanks to the Asmodean Crystals that they were all gifted on their eighteenth birthday. Sadly for them, Blitz was not on good terms with any of his succubus exes, so asking them to lend them their crystal was out of the question. 

Which is how they ended up in Prince’s Stolas Star Palace, where they were going to use all their skills to try and steal one of the most powerful magical artifacts in hell’s possession: the Lunar Grimoire, which has the power to create portals to the world of the living. 

The plan was supposed to be very simple: Considering that Prince Stolas had the fame of being a total hermit who barely left his room, all IMP needed to do was avoid the master bedroom and go directly to the main study where the book resided; grab it and leave the premises before anyone notices. 

A very simple plan, which was not simple at all.

Blitz now knew that, considering he was glued to a table located in the middle of the vast space, with the hermit prince seated on the other side and he was not what he expected.

The prince’s was tall, like probably one of the highest demons Blitz has ever seen, at least three meters tall. His feathers were picth-black, blending his entire body with the vastness of space—the only way he knew that a body was there was the loose but intricately decorated clothing he was wearing. His face, however, was the most unselteling part, being literally the silver mask of an owl, completely expressionless except for his very red eyes. 

Which were impossible to decipher. 

“So… imp.” His voice sounded like it was coming from the deepest bottoms of the earth. “May you please explain why you were doing with my palace, trying to steal my Grimoire?”

“Huh…” Come on, Blitz! Think quick! “I am... the new imp in charge of cleaning the book! It is very nice to meet your owlness; I was hired just yesterday.”

“Oh! Did Mara interview you? Or was it Keneth? I am not so sure now which one is in charge of the interviews; it has been a while after all.”

“Yes! It was that Mara chick! She was so impressed by my amazing resume that she hired me on the spot!”

“Really? Where else have you worked? In Pride’s great library I assume?”

“Yes!” Blitz now said confidently, “With all the books, tomes and other stuff that libraries have.”

“That is very interesting.”

Before Blitz could ever have the chance to speak, he suddenly felt his legs becoming limp and slowly turning into stone. In a panic, he tried to leave, but that only accelerated the pretrification process, which now covered most of his body except his face.

“Mara is on paid maternity leave and won’t be back until after her son is a year old.” Stolas said solemnly, like if he were scolding a misbehaving child. “Keneth retired after 40 years of faithful service and is now spending the rest of his days in a cozy ranch in Wrath with his family.”

Blitz was now getting desperate; what would he say to this owl to calm him down? Was he even mad or just getting some sick satisfaction from torturing him? 

Moxxie and Millie! Oh shit! What is going to happen to them after he ends up as a statue? Will they end up as statues too? That can be! Those two just got married; they have a lot to live for!

“Wait!” Blitz shouted using the last of his strength. 

“What now?”

“Please, I beg you, let my two employees go; they were just following me here because I am their boss! They won't set foot in your palace again after this, I promise!”

Hold on a second…His employees? 

Curious. 

Blitz was freed from his stone prison with a little clap from Stola’s hands and sat down at the table once more, this time prepared for a tea party: Even though Blitz wasn't a tea drinker, his cup was filled with the most exquisite tea he had ever smelled, along with sandwiches, pastries, and tiny, elegant biscuits.

This left him incredibly confused. Wasn’t the prince going to kill him a few seconds ago? Why is he now offering him tea and biscuits?

"So are you saying that the two imps that are now desperately trying to open my door work for you?”

“ Yes…” Blitz responded timidly, “We are an assassination business.”

“I have heard of imps offering their services as assassins, but they were never a company.” Stolas took a sip of his tea. “I thought imps were forbidden to even open a business without a tutor.”

How could Blitz ever forget that?

Hell's Law, Section 4b, Subparagraph 6: Every imp in charge of running a business needs a tutor to supervise all movements. If not, the company is deemed void and needs to be shut down right away. 

With how many doors were closed in his face, he has that fucking decree burned in his mind. Honestly, he was just planning to go underground and move rings constantly if that was deemed necessary. 

“And what type of assassinations do you do?” Stolas said, noticing Blitz's uncomfortable expression. “It must have something to do with the human world if you needed my book for that.”

“There is no shortage of imps working as assassins in hell; the competition is big and more than once, we have lost customers because some newbies offered to do the killing for cheaper.” Blitz grunted, “I just thought that if my company offered something no other did, then we would finally be able to pay the bills at the end of the month.”

Stolas stood there in silence. This was a curious little imp indeed; he had never in his incredibly long life seen an imp so much determination; I mean, he even tried to steal from him to make his dream come true, and it was not a bad idea after all. It was terribly planned, sure, but in handsight…

He could make use of this.

“So… I understand correctly, you are planning to do assassinations in the human real, correct? In the name of whom?”

“In the name of the sinners, a lot of them are pissed off since they truly believe they got here due to the actions of someone else, like shitty parents, ungrateful kids, a bad friend, and a big list of etcetera.” 

“That is to be expected; humans are so predictable.” Stolas signed, his voice becoming calmer. “So I see that you would accelerate them coming here? Right?”

“Exactly!”

“And what would happen if the person goes up there instead of down?” 

“That would not be my fucking problem! No refunds ever!”  Blitz exclaimed prodly, now filling comfortable enough to take a sandwich and eat it in one bite. “For Satan! This is the best grub I have eaten in a while!”

“I am glad to hear it.”

Stolas took his Grimoire, a pen that appeared to be on his feathers, and a special paper that was big enough for Blitz as he was eating another sandwich. Stolas was already typing the strangest symbols and letters Blitz had ever seen before the imp could inquire as to what was happening. What is the owl doing?

But when a portal popped out from the paper and a huge forest in the human actual appeared, his sandwich slid out of his hand.

“You see, I too have my beefs in the world of men.” Stolas explained. “Every now and then a human may think that they are smart enough to outsmart me and refuse to honor their side of the deals they make with me” 

Blitz couldn’t even talk as he felt the fresh night breeze gently touch his leathery skin. It felt surprisingly good, especially since five minutes ago he was turning into stone. 

The portal then shut, and the paper was placed right in front of Blitz after being meticulously wrapped into a scroll and secured with a Goetia seal.

Was this real? All he needed to do all this time was just... talk to the prince? All those nights he spent with Millie planning the perfect heist were for nothing? Seriously?

But, hey, you don’t look at the teeth of a gifted horse.

Blitz was just about to take the scroll when a knife was put in front of him. It was literally the most beautiful piece of metal he had ever seen.  It was an object of quiet elegance, a perfect balance between artistry and utility. The steel glistened, its surface polished to a mirror finish, reflecting the world around it in a softened, almost dreamlike way. A whisper of an edge ran along its length, honed to such precision that it seemed to promise both grace and danger in a single, fluid motion.

Blitz took it into his large hands, his four fingers fitting perfectly in the handle.

“What is your name, imp?”

"Blitz... Blitz Buckzo” 

“So, Mr. Buckzo, tell me, are you willing to make a deal with me?”

Blitz, put the knife down… a deal with one of the princes of hell will bound him forever. He has seen this type of deal happening in movies and the powerful individual is never merciful or asks for anything simple. 

What if he asks for his firstborn? For Loona?

Or what if he asks for Moxxie and Millie’s firstborn?!

Or what if he asks for a freaky sex deal where he is going to be subjected to the most humiliating acts?! Those things only sound “sexy and romantic” in amateur fanfiction written by thirteen-year-olds with divorced parents who still have no idea what a real relationship even looks like!

“Are you okay, Mr. Buckzo?” Stolas asks, “I was just about to explain the nature of the deal we were about to make; I would appreciate your attention”

“Yes?”

“Good, because I was just mentioning that the knife that you are using is not an ordinary one as it has the special ability to trap a human soul inside. Once a month, when the moon is full, I will give you an extra target to kill—a moron human who thought they could outsmart me and need to be taught a lesson.”

“So I just kill them and then stab them with the knife, got it,” Blitz said confidently. This may be easier than he thought.

“It's not that simple; you will need to make sure to deliver the final blow with that knife so the soul can be properly trapped.” 

“Okay, use the knife; got it!” Blitz smiled, “Is that all?”

“In exchange, I will not only activate the seal each month, giving you access to the human realm anytime you want, but I will also become the tutor for your business.”

What?

WHAT?

“Honesltly, I thought that you would be more pleased.” Stolas signed. “I am saving you years of legal battling and paperwork.”

“I am not giving you my business!” Blitz shouted, angry, “I can’t  even give you a share of the company! We are barely making it as it is!”

“I am not asking for a share; I am not interested in money,” Stolas replied solemnly. “But if you will be delivering sould to me, you are technically acting as one of my leggioneres, which I assume you have no intention of being.”

“Well…”

“Additionally, remember that sinners tend to have a pretty loose tongue, and while that may be good for your company in the long run, what would you do if one of Lucifer’s soldiers knocked at your door, demanding to see the necessary paperwork?”

"I could leave and….”

“There are only seven rings in hell and the royal guards are stationed in every single one of them, catching sinners trying to escape pride; eventually you will run out of rings to hide.”

Blitz looked at the floor defeated; he had promised himself, Millie and Moxxie that he would do everything in his power to maintain their business as imp-owned and to never make their little group of misfits subject to the wims of an uncaring overlord, royal or even other hellborn. 

If he accepts this deal, then Millie would never forgive him, not after everything they went through in the past.

But realistically speaking, will he even be able to keep that promise? Stolas is right in one thing: Imps are legally not allowed to own businesses without a tutor to supervise them; those few who have tried in the past were taught a lesson pretty quickly. 

What to do?

“I promise that I will not ask you for money, not a share of your company and your way of paying me “rent” will be delivering me those sinner souls, nothing more, nothing less.” Stolas put on a contract in front of Blitz; how on earth did he write it so fast was beyond him, but maybe that was one of the powers the prince possessed. “Additionally, with my protection, you will be able to promote your business freely without fear of the king’s army knocking at your door, because if you think that being turned into stone is a terrible punishment, you don’t want to know what our king may have in store.” 

What do you say, Mr. Buckzo?

Are you willing to fight for your dreams?

Blitz’s signed the contract. 

[ellfucksup]

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

Girls Night

Cho Sang Woo x reader

Request: anonymous

Summary: A spontaneous girls night is interrupted by an unwanted guest.

Warnings: kissing?

I couldn’t remember the last time I actually went out and let my hair down. Work had been relentless—non-stop, brain-numbing torture just to scrape by paycheck to paycheck. It was exhausting. Soul-crushing, even.

So, I messaged the girls. We need a night out.

Thank god they all agreed. Friday. Drinks. Dancing.

It was in the calendar, and nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to get in the way of me losing my mind on the dance floor, ten shots deep.

Well. Almost nothing.

Just as I was halfway through getting ready, a knock sounded at my door. I groaned, annoyed at the interruption. Wrapped in nothing but a towel, hair dripping onto my shoulders, I yanked the door open, fully prepared to tell off whoever thought now was a good time to bother me.

Then I froze.

Sang Woo.

He stood there, hands in his pockets, dark eyes flickering over me in amusement.

“Nice outfit,” he said, smirking.

I scowled. “What do you want?”

He leaned against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. “Missed me?”

I exhaled sharply, my night already getting more complicated than I’d planned.

“What are your plans tonight?” he smirked, still leaning against my doorframe.

I huffed, turning around and leaving the door open for him to follow me in. “Why do you ask, Sang Woo? We haven’t spoken in over a week,” I sighed, feigning disinterest.

“I’ve been busy. Let me make it up to you,” he smiled.

“No can do. Girls' night. And you’re very much not invited.” I turned around, hands on my hips, praying to dear god the towel stayed up.

- - - - -

Safe to say, he wasn’t bothered by my clear instructions to stay behind.

Now, walking down the street, Sang Woo strolled casually beside me, cigarette in hand, dressed annoyingly well.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy his pestering. It had been a while since I’d seen my on-and-off-again friend with benefits. I mean, I guess you could call it that—it was an interesting arrangement.

I had met Sang Woo through a mutual friend. Gi-Hun, the absolute sweetheart that he is, introduced me to this infuriating man. Sadly, Sang Woo didn’t share his friend’s cheerful nature.

Hearing the loud music as I approached the strip, I suddenly heard my name being called out.

The girls were huddled together in their mini skirts, waving at me excitedly. I ran over, giggling, and pulled them all into a hug.

As soon as I let go, they opened their mouths, ready to say something—until their eyes flicked behind me. Eyebrows were definitely raised.

“I’m sorry, girls, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Trust me, though, let’s just pretend he’s not here,” I whispered—loud enough for Sang Woo to hear.

I heard him chuckle behind me.

“Oh, please, Y/N,” one of the girls giggled. “We all know you’re gonna struggle to ignore him.”

Walking into the bar, the group definitely garnered some looks. Can’t blame them really, the girls looked incredible. Trust them to go all out. Heading to the bar, I start to order a very strong drink.

“Hi, can I get a double—“ you were rudely cut off.

“Rum and coke—make that two, please, on card.”

I turn to see I hadn’t managed to lose Sang Woo in the crowd. He stood behind me, smug smile, hand ghosting my hip.

“You’re infuriating.” I mutter.

“Only for you.” His whispers into my ear.

I happily take his drink, making full eye contact, gulping it down. A bit of the drink dribbles slightly down my chin. I watch his eyes follow the droplet, hand raising to swipe it with his thumb, catching my lips ever so slightly.

I blush, turning my head, looking for the girls—finding them giggling, looking my way, mocking the lip swipe and swooning.

Ignoring Sang Woo, I rush over to my closest friend, grabbing her hand and yanking her to the dance floor. If he was going to be a menace, I’d be much worse.

I sway my hips to the music, base thumping as the alcohol shoots straight to my head.

“Girl, he’s looking at you like he’s going to eat you alive,” my friend shouts over the music with a grin on her face.

“Let him look,” I giggle, alcohol giving me some liquid courage.

After a few more rounds of shots, each one of the girls taking their turn to pay, I was definitely feeling the liquor in my legs.

I stray off to the dance floor, feeling the music, waiting for the girls to join.

I feel a hand on my waist—thinking it’s one of the girls, swaying with them to the music. Whoever the hand belongs to grips me slightly tighter, hand wandering further towards my ass.

Turning around to make a joke to one of my friends about being a perv, only to find a complete stranger.

Shocked at first, I stop dancing and move away, spotting the girls coming towards me.

“Where do you think you’re going, pretty?” he says, giving a slimy smile.

I ignore him, weaving through the crowd, only to be grabbed by the wrist.

“Not a chance. You were just grinding on me—I want you to finish the dance,” he growls, pulling at me.

This guy was truly gross.

“Get your hands off of her now.”

I hear a voice boom through the crowd.

The creepy guy turns to see Sang Woo walking toward us, a scowl on his face.

“Now, why would I do that, old man?” he laughs, clearly feeling cocky.

Before I can open my mouth to tell the guy to fuck off, Sang Woo swings for him.

Before I could scream, they’re both on the floor. Sang Woo pins the guy as he pulls his fist back, ready to strike again.

“Fine, keep your whore,” shouts the perv, trying to save himself from the coming onslaught of punches.

The girls gather around me, asking whether I’m fine. Honestly, I’m more than okay—truthfully, slightly turned on. Seeing the usual well-kept Sang Woo with messy hair, looking feral, did things to me.

The crowd starts to open up around the fight. Chants begin, alerting the bouncers.

“Apologize to my girl,” Sang Woo growls.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Jesus, please get off me, man!” the guy pleads.

They’re both pulled apart and escorted out of the club. With some boos from the crowd they go back to the usual antics of the night.

I turn to look at the girls, mouths open—speechless, to say the least. They all look at me with smiles, some with their arms crossed.

“Girl, just go. You’re clearly gonna get laid to the high heavens; that’ll at least be a good stress reliever. We can always go out tomorrow night,” one of them giggles and gives me a wink.

I roll my eyes trying to hide my blush, saying my goodbyes.

Heading outside to find Sang Woo sorting his jacket out, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He spots me, strolling over and pinning me to the wall. Luckily, the streets are quiet, as it’s on the later side of the night.

He says nothing but brings his lips to mine. Giving me a rough kiss, clearly riled up by the fight.

“I hate it when they touch what’s mine,” he whispers into my ear as he leaves hot kisses down my neck.

- - - -

OMG my first fic! Hope you enjoy, please be nice I’m new to this!

[skitskatdacat63]

One makes him up, so the other can break him down.

This is a little terrifying but hello!! Posted my first fic on ao3!! I would've saved the illustrations for the fic's eyes only, but I'm too happy with them haha. Hope you'll still go on to read regardless!!

As always, my thoughts and progress, since I can't help myself:

I'm soooooo proud of these. I never ever really do dramatic lighting, so I'm really surprised that I pulled it off.

It's surreal actually posting this because for a while, I've thought about how if I ever post a fic, I'll have to make illustrations too because I can't do anything not full force. Look at me now! I'm shocked. Also didn't think I'd finish it tonight, but here it sits before you nevertheless(though as always, I'm writing this past my bedtime before class, time efficient as always.) So with that being said, here are some notes, though if I had known I'd be writing this so soon, I would've prepared more lol.

First of all, I hope it's clear both of these are Mark's perception. Gah, the fact that his face is the only one you can see clearly. The first is obviously him unwillingly fantasizing about what exactly went down last night.

Aghhhhh the difference in colors and settings of the two drawings is so important to me. The warmth and intimacy of the bed behind curtains in the first one, and the coldness and openess of the second. It's so clear Mark feels like he's been distanced, like he's been ousted. It's like he's been thrown outside on a cold winter's day, no longer able to feel the heat from the comfortable warm stove inside.

Mark was probably assigned to Seb bcs he has a much greater appreciation for the Spanish etiquette, which Seb has very little interest in. He'll abide by it when he absolutely has to. But he's just a very non-typical Emperor. People find it charming so it's not a public death sentence for him, but it is an issue. Thus, Mark is there to keep him in line. Though important to note that when Fernando, who has an equal if not greater respect for the showmanship of etiquette, realizes Mark is interested in that as well, they start warming up to each other.

The inherent disrespect of Fernando just. Throwing Seb's clothing onto the floor. Meanwhile he probably took like, 20 minutes folding his up(that's what Seb was gonna tell Mark at the end of the fic.) Borderline ripping off Seb's clothes only to edge him. Its not even like the ripping off the clothes is because of passion or anything, he's deliberately being an asshole. Don't worry Nandl, Seb's turned on by it!

So sorry to marknando fans if their dynamic feels like a complete 180 haha. Its not like I'm like, they actually hate each other!! It's just their relationship under completely different circumstances. They're like two dogs in a dog fight, they don't have any real reason to hate each other, but they're put against each other regardless. They don't understand their hatred, just know that they have it and that they're supposed to have it. The inherent hatred the mistress has for the spouse, and vice versa. If they actually were able to talk without barriers, they'd realize they actually get along pretty well. They kinda just hate each other because of their respective relationships to Seb. And then there's Seb who's mostly completely oblivious to his effect, though of course plays with it a bit.

Seb's marriage completely recontextualizes their relationship in Mark's eyes. Though there's something incredibly sado-masochistic about the way he can't blame Seb for it at all. He's a loyal dog after all. But when it was just them, he was obviously Seb's main companion and lover. Seb definitely slept with people on the side, but Mark brushed that off: 1. Bcs its very period typical. 2. He was the main, they were the side, what more needs to be said! But now *he's* the side piece, and is left wondering if their relationship was down to proximity alone. Not to pull a Mark and completely excuse Seb, but it's not. Just very different perceptions of love and relationships. And again, as I've mentioned before, he was raised to always be the most important person in the room, so he obviously has very different understandings, especially since he's always the center.

NANDL!!!!!! In my Habsburg book I've been reading lately, they randomly referred to one of them affectionately as "Nandl" and it's stuck in my head ever since. Can we start a movement to canonize that as an official Fernando nickname? I'm sooooo fond of it, I litrally ended the fic that way just so I could shoehorn that nickname in.

Speaking of the ending. It was really tough, I almost wanted to have Fernando burst in, looking for his ring, and then coming across whatever that is. But I didn't want to disrupt their moment anymore, it felt cruel. Though shame I couldn't mention that the reason why Seb's pants are nowhere to be found is because Fernando accidentally put them on and didn't realize till he was out of the room.

*I FORGOT TO POINT OUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS! Truly the danger of writing a post while falling asleep. There's something so incredibly funny to me the way they're talking so refined and then Seb just throws out: "that guy." It's a way to show his own disrespect of Fernando, not even using his name, implying he's just some guy(nur ein Kerl.) I laughed writing it cause it reminds me of the random dry humor anecdotes I've read lately.

[ktamina]

SID for Metal Hammer, 1999

¡¡¡FULL interview here!!!

SID WILSON

Age: 22.

Marital status: I have a girlfriend.

Nickname?: Filth, or the epitome of...

Born and bred?: Born in Des Moines although my whole family is from England.

Instrument played?: Turntables.

Band previous to Slipknot?: I have a DJ crew called Soundproof Coalition, who are based out of Des Moines.

First record bought?: The first one I owned was the Miami Vice soundtrack which my parents bought for me.

First band seen live?: I was really young and my parents took me to see Sheena Easton.

Describe yourself in three words: Organic brain syndrome.

What does your mask represent?: To me it's like I'm killing myself on stage. I am constantly at war as the gas mask reminds people at war, so it's like I am constantly dying up there.

Was the visual image your idea?: Yeah, it kinda fell in my lap. I got into the band and was looking for a mask and the gas mask kinda found me. Since then I have been pretty interested in them and If I ever see one I buy it. Right now I have seven or eight of them.

Special Ingredient you bring to the band?: Youth, as I am the youngest member of the band which keeps it fresh.

What is your greatest fear?: Dying young. It is something I think about, as you can die from all kinds of things- I could break my neck at a show, catch a disease or the government could assassinate me.

What is your idea of hell?: I don't believe in it. If there is a hell, planet earth is it.

First job: Working at raves.

Have you ever experimented with auto eroticism?: Yeah, I guess I have. I've wore choke collars, as in the rave scene there have been a lot of experiences which have been pretty crazy.

Tell me your favorite sexual fantasy introducing Salvador Dalí (the late great surrealist painter), an orange, and a bicycle?: I would ride the bicycle for three hours to be completely exhausted, then me and my girlfriend would enter the painting with the melted clocks in it (The Persistence of Memory) and then at the point of orgasm melt like the clocks and eat the oranges for a reward.

Do you enjoy a good wank?: Yeah, every day. When we went on The Howard Stern Show I wanted in show him my cock and I was trying to keep it a decent hanging size, so I was jerking off, and by the time we were on it only lasted a minute so I didn't even get the chance to show it. I think he was actually quite scared of it.

Do you often wank in public?: It depends. When I go into my personality of number 0 the number takes over and I never know what he is going to do, but myself, not really.

What would be the concept for a Slipknot porno movie?: I probably wouldn't do much talking as when I am in my alter ego of 0 I don't talk much. There would be a lot of drooling, slobbering and grunting. There would be no need for dialect, just get down to it.

Hobbies outside the band?: I like to snowboard and sculpt with clay. I am also into cooking. My mom has been teaching me since I was three. My speciality is french crepes.

Fave horror movie?: Evil Dead 2 and Army Of Darkness.

Fave author?: Edgar Allen Poe is the only literature have ever finished reading.

Band you'd like to tour with?: It wouldn't go in with the genre of Skipknot, but me personally, it would be The Beastie Boys. At the point when I got into DJing, break dancing and hip hop The Beastie Boys were a big part of that. I have always listened to them.

Who do you think is the most heavy metal band of all time?: Slipknot.

Worst way to die?: Without my family. By myself.

If your house was burning down. What is the one thing you would run in and save?: If all my family was out, I would have to go and get the hair wrap my girlfriend gave me before we started dating. It is made out of her hair.

If you were the president of the USA for a day and could achieve one thing only. What would it be?: I would make it a free country and expose the government for what it is.

What is your dog called?: Mary Jane Wilson. She's part whippet and part dingo.

if you read all this follow me ¡HERE! I post media of Sid every 4 hours ♡

[bbrissonn]

𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ in which you lay alone in your bed at night wondering where your relationship with the young star went wrong

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting 

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ HUGH DISCLAIMER: this fic doesnt have a clear ending. i literally have no motivation to continue this, but i cannot find it in myself to start my next work for this album until this one is out. so yeah, sorry about that :)

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ warnings: angst, swearing , not proofread  

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ pairing: jack hughes x reader

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ wc: 2.6k (including lyrics)

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ guts masterlist

Cat got my tongue

And I don’t think I get along with anyone

Blood runnin’ cold

I’m on the outside of the greatest inside joke

And I hate all my clothes

Feels like my skin doesn’t fit right over my bones

So I guess I should go

The party’s done, and I’m no fun, I know, I know

I know, I know

Ever since you had moved to New York in early 2022, it felt like it had been living a lie. Like this life you were living wasn’t yours, like you had just stolen it from someone. Growing up, you had always been homeschooled, meaning your social life was slime to none. So, it was safe to say that when you chose to move to New York for a job your mom’s friend had offered you, you were scared. 

You only had two real friends, who you barely ever saw because of their busy scheduled with school before, and even more now since you three were all over the country doing your own things. Luckily for you, there was a girl only 2-3 years older than you at your job, meaning you had someone to talk to if you felt the need. After a month of two, the two of you became friends, growing ever closer when you realized you lived in apartment blocks next to each other. 

Which is how you found yourself at a bar on a saturday night in October of that year. Mailey had convinced you to come with her, claiming the two of you needed to decompress from your busy week at work. You rolled your eyes at first, but agreed none the less. Ever since this summer, you found yourself starting to go out more, joining Mailey and her friends every once in a while. Only this time was so much different than the others. 

There was a big group of maybe 20ish guys, age ranging from young adults to full grown men, taking up most of the place. The two of you were confused, seeing as this bar barely ever had people coming in, and it was mainly the same people coming here every week. So, a group of random guys neither of them had seen around before certainly peeked your interest. 

“What do you think they’re doing here?” You asked as the two of you sat down at your usual spot. The group occupying the opposite side of the room. 

“Don’t know. But they’re not buying that cheap booze.” Mailey mumbled, her eyes focused on the insane amount of liquor at the couple of tables they were occupying. The two of you eventually started forgetting about them, talking about random things that happened throughout the week. 

“Not to freak you out, but there’s a guy that keeps looking at you. A cute guy.” The girl across from you said after about an hour of the two of you being there. You furred your brows slightly at her words, before turning your head in their direction. That’s when you met his eyes for the first time. He had a slight grin on his face as he stared into your eyes, nodding along to whatever the guy next to him was saying. You sent him a small smile, waving slightly, which he answered with a nod. 

“More like hot guy.” You mumbled, looking back over at your best friend. You had had a couple of flings here and there, but nothing ever serious, and you were never used to getting boys’ attention on a night out. 

“He’s going to the bar. Go talk to him.” Mailey announced, making you turn your head to look at him. At the same time, he looked over at your table, sending you a small wink when your eyes met. 

“Rich coming from someone who always says girls don’t chase, they attract.” You teased, making her roll her eyes. You eventually decided to go up to him later that night, talking for a bit before exchanging numbers. Jack, you learned his name was, didn’t seem to want to get into talking about his group of friend too much, so you kept all your questions to yourself. 

Over the next couple of weeks, the two of you got to know each other. Your friendship slowly formed and the two of you grew closer each other. But, clearly Jack was still holding back on some stuff. He still refused to open up about his friends and what he does as a living exactly. You told yourself that he’d tell you when he was ready, but you were getting a little impatient, which is why you pretty much forced the answer out of him when you went over to his apartment one day. 

“When are you gonna tell me?” You asked, pausing the show the two of you were watching. Your words made him look over at you, a confused expression on his face as his eyes met yours. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When are you gonna tell me truth, Jack. If that’s even your name.” You sassed, making the boy next to you let out a deep sigh as he threw his head back. 

“D’you wanna see my birth certificate?” He answered coldly, making you scoff. “What I do doesn’t matter, Y/N, so just drop it.” 

“If it doesn’t matter than why won’t you tell me, Jack? You know pretty much everything about me and my life, and barely know anything from yours. God, you won’t even tell me the names of your brothers!” 

“Why do you care so much?” 

“Because I like you, Jack! And… and I though you liked me back, but clearly I was wrong.” You admitted, standing up from your spot on the couch as you started packing up your things. “Just forget it.” You mumbled as you started making your way to the door. You were stopped right as you were about to grab onto the doornob. 

“Y/N, wait!” He said, grabbing your wrist and turning you around before you could leave. “I like you too, Y/N, and I’m sorry I haven’t been honest with you, but I didn’t want what I do in life to influence how you see me. I’ve had way too many people use me and I didn’t want that to happen again because I really like you.” 

“Jack, I made it clear hundreds of that time that I what you do in life wouldn’t change the way I see you, but you kept hiding from me. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me.” You explained with a scoff. The boy in front of you sighed before cupping your face in his head, his forehead leaning against yours. 

“I know, I know, I should’ve told you a long time ago. But what we have, it’s really special to me, and it’s so good. I didn’t want to ruin it.” 

“You’d have to be a serial killer for me to change my mind about how I feel, Jack.” 

“Stay. Please. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, just don’t leave me, please.” He begged, his thumbs rubbing small circles under your eyes. You swallowed harshly before slightly nodding your head yes. Jack then brough the two of you back to his couch, and he stuck to his promise. He started going on and on about his life, starting with the fact that he played hockey for the Devils. Then he moved on to telling you pretty much every single memory he had about the sport, a wide grin plastered on his face. 

In exchange, you opened up to him about some of the insecurities you had because you were homeschooled, including having to attened big parties and being surrounded by large crowds. Jack had promised that was something he would never put your through, but you quickly learned that his promise meant nothing to him. 

I broke a glass, I tripped and fell

I told secrets I shouldn’t tell

I stumbled over all my words

I made it weird, I made it worse

Each time I step outside, it’s social suicide

It’s social suicide, wanna curl up and die

It’s social suicide

It had now been three months since Jack asked you out. You had met his brother Luke when the boy came to visit, talked to his parents through face time a while ago, but you had yet to met his friends. You tried hard not to let it bother you, but it did. He didn’t want you attending his games either, claiming he didn’t want people to hate on you because you were his girlfriend. You couldn’t help but overthink the fact that maybe it was just because you were his girlfriend.

You had seen pictures of the other players wives and girlfriends, and you looked nothing like them. They all seemed so outgoing and the life of the party. Not to mention all of the models Jack followed, all of them being the exact opposite of you. You had questioned him about it one night, he just scoffed and said you were being petty and pathetic asking him a question like that. 

“J?” You called out. His arms were wrapped around your waist, your back pressed against his chest. 

“Mm?”

“When am I gonna meet your friends?” You asked quietly, making the boy sigh harshly against the back of your neck. 

“Got to sleep, Y/N.” He mumbled. 

“Could you at least answer me?” 

“I don’t know, okay? Your weird fear of crowds or whatever makes it impossible for you to meet them all at the same time, and I’m not gonna go through the burden of setting up little dates with my teammates just so you can meet them. Can I sleep now, mother?” He answered harshly as his arms left your frame and he turned around, his back to yours. You felt tears prikle in your eyes at his words. 

“I can handle it.” Your voice was low, not trusting your voice not to crack if you talked any louder. Jack let yet another sigh at your words. 

“We’re getting together after the game tomorrow, come if you want.” 

“To your game?” You asked hopeful. You were growing tired of just watching him play through your TV screen, when he was close to your home. 

“No. After.” And just like that, all your hope was crushed. 

“What should I wear?” 

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” He grumbled, getting out of bed making your head snap towards him as he approached the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Guest room. I need peace and you keep talking.” Was the last thing he said before leaving the room. When you woke up the next morning, he was gone, no text no notes, nothing. He didn’t come back for his pregame nap either, which scared you a little. But all your nerves went away when his face appeared on your Instagram feed, a bright smile on his face as the picture the Devils posted illuminated your screen. 

All of your texts to Jack had gone unanswered, as well as your calls. Thankfully, you knew where the team would be heading after the game, it was a local bar near the rink they went to almost every time after a game. You had gotten there a lot later than everyone, spending thirty minutes in your car deciding whether or not Jack would still want you there. You figured there was only one way to find out so in you went. 

The place was crowded, the music loud as the bartenders prepared multiple drinks. Realistically, there wasn’t that many people here, just the team and a couple other regulars, it was just a really small room. It took you a couple of minutes to spot Jack, who was sitting at a table with a couple of his friends and lots of girls. You tried to look as confident as possible as you made your way over to him. Some of his friends and their partners started at you, wondering what someone like you was doing here. 

“Jack?” You called out as you stood behind him. His arm was resting on the chair of a pretty blond girl next to him. You couldn’t quite describe the look in his eyes when his head turned to face you, but the words he was about to say completely crushed you. 

“Do I know you?” He questioned, and you could feel your heart shatter inside of you. You tried your best to keep a brave face on, but you were dying on the inside. 

“J, come one, this isn’t funny. I’ve been texting and calling all day, you were gone when I woke up this morning.” You mumbled, taking a step closer to him. The girl on his right could read you perfectly, and she realized that you two were a couple. When it clicked in her mind, she sent the boy a judging look before standing from her seat and walking back to her friends. 

Jack got up right after her, gripping your wrist and dragging you outside the bar. “What’re you doing here?” He asked harshly once the two of you stood outside alone. 

“No! What are you doing, Jack?”

“I’m enjoying a night with my buddys!” 

“Yeah, the friends you said I could meet. Tonight!”

“When did I say that?” His words were harsh and rude, making your heart shatter even more. You truly did not understand why he always acted this way towards you lately, but you were growing tired of it. 

“Last night! You said I could come if I wanted to, and I want to be here, so here I am. And here you are, with your arm around another girl!” You said, your tone matching his. You were tired of letting him walk over you all the time. 

“I said that so you would shut up and leave me alone. God, you’re always just complaining about everything and anything. It’s like nothing’s ever enough for you, you always need more–” 

“Oh, nothing’s enough for me? What about you, huh? Am I not enough for you?” 

“There you go, making it about you like always.” 

“Because this is about me, Jack! I am your girlfriend of three months, and I don’t know any of your friends! It’s like you’re ashamed to be with me. Do your friends even know about me?” You asked. There were tears in the back of your eyes threatening to spill, but you blinked them away. You had cried enough over him for the last couple of weeks. The boy in front of you stayed silent at your question, making you scoff. 

“Of course they don’t know, just like your brother’s weren’t suppose to know, or your parents. You don’t want anyone to know that your girlfriend is me.” You spoke with your voice low. This exact though had been in the back of your mind for a long time, but saying it out loud made it feel so much more real. 

“Things were better before you knew–” 

“They were better for you! You lied to me for weeks, and you’re still lying. All you do is lie, Jack. I can’t believe I waisted so much time and energy on you. You never wanted this relationship, did you? You just wanted someone to fuck whenever you needed, someone to be there for you. You didn’t care who it was, you neved cared about me. You’re pathetic, seriously.” You mumbled before pushing past the hockey player and walking to your car. 

You were done with Jack Hughes.