#half frame prescription glasses

[diltonsstrangescience]

I want to cosplay Dilton SO badly, but in order to do that I’d need to have:

A: A friend with me who’s cosplaying Jughead, so that (by virtue of the iconic hat) onlookers might possibly recognize what fandom I’m supposed to be from by association.

(Because really, without context, Dilt is just some random kid with glasses.)

B: Ideally multiple other friends cosplaying other Archie characters, because it wouldn’t really make sense to have a tritagonist like Dilly hanging out with Jug, but not The Actual Archie. (And really the whole theme works best with a big group, I’m sure.)

C: An actual place to cosplay at, like, I don’t know, a comic con or something. I have never been to one, and have no plans to go to one, so that’s a bit of a moot point right now. And a comic con is sort of the only place with enough of a payoff for this particular cosplay theme.

Because if you’re not recognized as your character, then you’re basically just wearing normal, slightly dated clothes at a time when you could have been wearing something awesome, like a medieval gown or superhero armor or a pirate outfit.

Half the fun of becoming a character is getting to be that character for other people as well. As much as I want to cosplay just for myself, if I’m not recognized at all, it sort of doesn’t feel worth it…

Unfortunately my interests skew towards the obscure.

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

one thing i was not at all prepared for about having to go without glasses for a week is how the navigating my environment itself isn't a huge barrier--i have to be really slow and careful and it's annoying, but it hasn't actually stopped me from doing things including in the 'god this is going to be a hassle, i don't even want to start' way--but the major loss/change in sensory input as well as Oh God the HUD is Wrong is apparently a huge depression trigger. replacements cannot happen soon enough

[zombiemollusk]

listen

we're gonna do it

we're gonna normalize disability aids: canes, crutches, helmets, wheelchairs, you name it

and we're gonna normalize them AS DISABILITY AIDS

we are NOT gonna do like what we did with glasses and have health insurance not cover them because "lol it's just glasses"

and while we're at it, we ARE going to normalize glasses as disability aids too, and therefore cover their cost

GOT

IT

?

[bradshawssugarbaby]

High On Lovin' You - Bob Floyd x Reader

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic inspired by a dream I had the other day, not beta read and may have some errors? I tried y'all. also inspired by h.o.l.y. by florida georgia line

pairing: bob floyd x wife! reader

warnings/content: bob as a dad, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, smut, fingering.

word count: 2.1k

The Californian breeze was warm and refreshing as it blew in off the coast of Coronado, brushing against your skin. You followed Bob up the brick-laden steps of Rooster’s seaside home, your daughter, Sunday, balancing on Bob’s hip as he jogged up the steps. You couldn’t help but admire the way he managed to make something as mundane as running up a couple of steps holding a baby effortlessly attractive.

His sandy coloured hair had been brushed back slightly, a change from his normal, military-approved style, and his wire framed glasses had been replaced with a pair of prescription aviator sunglasses. His baby blue polo shirt hugged his figure, accentuating his toned chest, his biceps flexing against the sleeve of the shirt as he held Sunday. He’d dressed her this morning, in a baby blue gingham dress that matched the hue of his shirt perfectly, with her curly blonde hair pulled back off her forehead with a coordinating headband, adorned with a bow.

“You ready to go see Uncle Roo, Sunny?” Bob cooed at your daughter, stroking her cheek gently with his index finger as he spoke to her.

Sunday giggled and cooed at her father as the three of you walked around to the side gate of the house. Bob reached around over the gate door to unlatch it, and as you watched him, you couldn’t help but notice that his normally slender build was appearing more and more muscular and toned. You knew that Bob had been spending a lot more time with Rooster lately, and by extension, Hangman, who’d convinced all the guys to start hitting the gym with him before trainings under the guise of “team-building” but you were convinced it was because he didn’t want to work out alone anymore. The gym sessions combined with carrying an almost toddler around were enough to have an impact on Bob’s upper body strength.

Bob looked over to you for a moment, flashing you a smile before walking up to Rooster with a firm handshake and a hug. Bob set Sunday down on the grass to play, watching as she started playing. He’d insisted on giving you a break for the day, feeling guilty for spending the last week and a half working overtime and putting in longer hours as they trained for an upcoming mission. You knew there was no use in arguing with him about it, and the extra time spent with Sunday meant the world to him. Besides that, something about seeing Bob take on the role of doting dad was driving you crazy with arousal, and you were going to make sure you did something about it later tonight.

“Sunday, come here, honey!” Bob called as he chased after your now very active and mobile 11 month old daughter. 

Later that night, you watched as your husband whispered goodnight to your baby daughter over the monitor on your phone, your heart fluttering at the sight of him leaning his tall, slender frame down to kiss his little girl on the forehead, murmuring sweet sayings to her that were barely audible over the noise of the sound machine that was playing.

 “Ok, I think Sunday’s finally gone down for the night. They aren’t kidding when they say that sleep regressions are the worst, are they?” Bob chuckled as he bounded down the stairs, shaking his head as he gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in tightly towards his body. 

“Have I told you yet that you’re the best husband in the world?” 

“You might have mentioned it earlier when she spat up on my shirt right before Rooster’s party for his promotion, but I’d be ok with hearing it again.” 

A cocksure grin appeared on Bob’s face as he nuzzled into your neck, placing soft, gentle kisses against the curvature of your body. A soft, surprised moan fell from your lips as his mouth made contact with your skin, but that was all the encouragement Bob needed to start kissing a trail from the top of your shoulder up to your ear. His movements were playful and light-hearted, but he knew that was what drove you wild. His hands caressed at your waist, sliding down to your hips as he pulled you in closer to him with a gentle yank, the curves of your ass now pressed firmly against his body. You could feel the fabric of his dress pants beginning to tighten against you as he began hiking up the skirt of your dress, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Bobby!” You giggled, shaking your head as you felt your heart race as if this was your first time being intimate with him. 

That was the thing you loved about Bob, he made every time feel as great as the first - the passion, love and excitement of when you’d spent your first night together, recaptured as if it was happening all over again. Bob had always been a passionate lover - your first night together he’d sheepishly confessed to you that he’d only ever had one girlfriend before, and he dated her throughout his high school years until he graduated and left for the Naval academy at 18. He’d been worried that his lack of variety in the field had made him inadequate, and he assured you that, if there was anything he was doing that you wanted him to do differently, he’d learn it for you. It’d been nothing short of perfect - you teased him that he must have been reading Cosmopolitan or something to know all the right places to touch you and kiss you, to which he just shrugged, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a grin.

Since that day, it was clear to you that Bob was a people pleaser, and there was no one on earth who he wanted to please more than you.

“You looked so hot in that dress today, babe. You’re stunning, you know that?” He purred into your ear as he continued to run his hands along your body, his breath hot on your neck as he spoke in that low, seductive tone he knew drove you crazy.

“Robert Floyd, you’re pushing it,” you teased, shaking your head.

“Now, now, darlin’, that’s Lieutenant Commander Robert Floyd. If you’re gonna use my full name, better be using that rank too, got it, pretty girl?”

You gave Bob a mock salute, a shit-eating grin on your face as you looked at him. Bob pulled you in closer, holding your hips firmly against him, your dress hiked up to your midsection as he gave your sides a gentle squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh ever-so-slightly as he held you. Grinding your hips against his, you grinned wickedly as Bob let out a groan. He spun you around quickly to face him, his blonde eyebrows raised quizzically at you. His bright, deep blue eyes were locked on yours and you felt like you might melt right there on the spot.

“Now, a pretty girl like you, she deserves to be treated right by her husband, doesn’t she?” Bob hummed, his fingers toying with your inner thigh. 

“Mhmm, is that so?”

“That’s what I reckon,” Bob smirked, his accent shifting, becoming thicker as he slipped into his natural Kentucky drawl, his fingers brushing against your wet slit.

“Bobby!” You hissed, unable to stop the soft gasp that came out of your mouth with it. 

“I think, since you do such a good job taking care of Sunday and I, I should return the favor, don’t you?” 

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Bob pushed two of his long fingers past your folds, pumping them into your core at a tantalizing slow pace that left you practically aching for more. He smirked as his fingers worked at your core, feeling your body clench at the movement of his hand. 

“Fuck, Bobby,” you mewled, feeling yourself tensing up at his touch, “Feels s’good.”

Bob pulled his fingers out of you, your body aching at the loss of contact. He stood upright, quickly undoing his belt at a break-neck pace. He smirked as he noticed you biting your bottom lip, watching him as he shimmied quickly out of his khaki coloured dress pants and boxer shorts. Reaching into the pocket of the now discarded pants on the floor, he pulled out a shiny foil square of packaging. As he started to open it, you shook your head, whispering in his ear, your voice in a breathy whine as you spoke.

“We don’t need to use that if you don’t want to, baby. I wanna feel you.”

“That so, baby? Thought you wanted at least two years between kids?” He laughed softly, raising an eyebrow quizzically at you.

“I know what I said. That was before I saw you handling Sunday so well at Rooster’s this afternoon. Now I’m thinking 20 months is good enough,” you replied with a shrug, your lips curling into a smirk as you tried to convince your normally level-headed and rational thinking husband to forgo any form of contraception. 

Bob furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before tossing the condom wrapper behind him with a grin.

“What the hell, I’m on board,” He shrugged as he lifted you up, causing you to squeal in surprise as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Bob carried you effortlessly over to the couch before dropping you gently down on to the leather sectional. He grinned as he hovered down over you, lining himself up with your entrance. He dragged the tip of his cock against you in a teasing manner, causing you to shudder and whine as you felt him make contact with your clit. He gave you a wicked grin as he watched you squirm before gently pushing himself forward. He paused for a moment for you to adjust to his size - something you should be used to by now, but yet, each time your body needed that extra moment or two to stretch around him. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, taking my cock so well,” Bob cooed as he pushed himself further into you, maintaining the slow pace he’d begun with. 

“Bobby,” you whined as he filled you, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly.

Bob began thrusting into you at a leisurely, slow pace, his voice low and husky as he grunted in your ear, reminding you of how good you feel, how you were all his, and how your body felt like it was practically made for him. You squirmed and shuddered with each thrust becoming harder and sharper, perfectly calculated to hit exactly where you wanted each time, something that was to be expected of a man who’s job entailed precision and skill when it comes to angles. 

“You feel so fucking fantastic, honey. Can’t wait to put another baby in ya. That’s what you want, isn’t it baby? Want me to give you another baby?”

Bob’s hips crashed into yours repeatedly as he thrusted, his sharp, quick movements beginning to grow sloppier as he edged closer to his orgasm. You tossed your head back in ecstasy as he bucked his hips into you, the combination of his words and his movements just about pushing you to your orgasm. 

“C’mon honey, tell me what you want from me,” Bob husked.

“Need you to put a baby in me, please, Bobby,” you cried out, unable to hold back any longer as his latest thrust pushed you to your boiling point.

As if your words flipped a switch inside of him, Bob’s hips bucked forward once more as he grunted, spilling out inside of you as your body clenched around him tightly.

Breathless and panting as you both rode out your orgasms, Bob couldn’t help but laugh as he looked at you, shaking his head.

“So what was it about my parenting that got you worked up?” He smirked, unable to shake the grin off his face as he leaned down to kiss your collarbone.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly, I know something got you worked up today, and I doubt it was the backyard barbecue at Rooster’s.”

“Your biceps have gotten huge from carrying Sunday around everywhere, and with the polo shirt and the aviators today, and you were all proud of yourself for coordinating your outfit with Sunday’s, it was a combination of things, but,” you breathed, shaking your head as you grinned, “imagine how you’ll look balancing two toddlers on your hip.”

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie is the only one to notice that Steve squints at everything.

Whether this is menus, street signs, other people in general… he’s always squinting.

It becomes concerning when Steve starts missing exits, brushing it off as if he’s distracted rather than admitting he couldn’t read the sign in time. Then, while Eddie and Steve are playing babysitter for the kids at the fair, Steve panics when he loses sight of them. But they’re not far away and pretty hard to not notice.

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He just points them out and watches as Steve squints into the distance, pretending to see them. At least he trusts Eddie’s sight.

After they’ve dropped off almost all the kids, Eddie hesitates to get out of Steve’s car. He ushers Max to go on, explaining that he needs to talk to Steve.

Steve pulls outside of Eddie’s trailer home and nervously fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “What’s up, man?” He asks trying to sound casual.

“Steve, you need glasses,” Eddie says as a statement rather than a question.

“No I don’t,” Steve attempts to argue.

“You do.”

“Really, it’s not a big deal-”

“Not a big deal?! What happens when it’s not just exit signs that you’re missing? What if it’s a car?”

Steve just looks down and shrugs. Eddie will unpack that later, but, for now, he knows exactly what to say. “What if you’re with the kids when that happens?”

Steve’s head snaps up to look at Eddie, fear and shame flooding his features. He clears his throat. “We’ll go tomorrow,” Steve reluctantly says.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says half jokingly.

The visit to the eye doctor goes pretty well, and it’s quickly determined that yes, Steve really needs glasses. Eddie can’t help but whisper, “I told you so.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

When it comes to picking out the style of glasses, that’s when Eddie and Steve really start to struggle for different reasons. Steve struggles with the frames that best fit his face while Eddie… he struggles with the fact that Steve looks really hot in glasses.

Steve settles on a classic square frame that makes Eddie’s mouth go dry. Maybe making Steve get glasses wasn’t the best idea…

The optometrist finds Steve’s prescription lens in that exact frame, commenting on how he’s lucky they were in stock.

As soon as Steve puts them on, his eyes widen and jaw drops in awe. He looks around the room at the lights saying, “They’re… not blurry. I can see the bulbs.” When he looks outside at the trees he excitedly rambles, “The trees! I can see the leaves! And… the sign all the way down there… I can read it.”

Eddie chuckles which gets Steve’s attention. His gazes travels over the Eddie, and he freezes. It’s as if he’s seeing him for the first time. Which… he probably actually is.

Eddie shifts uncomfortably under the gaze, overly conscious of all the flaws Steve can now see clearly. Steve won’t stop staring.

The eye doctor clears his throat. Steve quickly looks away and hurries to pay. Eddie sighs in relief.

On the drive back, Eddie can’t help the wide smile that is permanently etched on his face as Steve shouts out all the different things he can see.

-:-:-:-:-:-

“What the hell? Since when do you wear glasses?” Dustin asks getting in the car.

Steve self consciously pushes the glasses up his nose. “Since yesterday.”

Mike laughs but stops when Eddie shoots him a look. “They look great, don’t they?” Eddie asks, trying to get everyone to agree so Steve doesn’t convince himself that he doesn’t need them again.

“They really do,” Max replies with a smirk. Christ. Lucas rolls his eyes and agrees with Max. Will nods enthusiastically, and Mike remains silent.

Steve beams and looks over at Eddie, eyes flicking down to his lips and back up to his eyes. And for the life of him, Eddie cannot understand why Steve has been so fascinated with his lips since getting his glasses. It’s only been a day, and Steve has looked at them over a hundred times.

He shakes off the thought, listening to Dustin ramble on about Suzie as everyone else groans.

A few days later, when Steve and Eddie are hanging out alone, it finally becomes unbearable because Steve. Won’t. Stop. Staring. At. His. Lips.

And Eddie keeps nervously licking them, which has caused his lips to chap. So maybe that’s why he’s staring? But then, he puts on chapstick which maybe gives him another reason to stare?

Honestly, he’s about two seconds away from breaking.

Steve looks at his lips again. That’s it…

“Why the fuck do you keep staring at my lips? What is so fascinating about them? Are they weird looking? Do you have a sudden new interest in lips because of your glasses?” Eddie rambles on, knowing he sounds ridiculous but seriously. What is wrong with them?

Steve turns red and his mouth opens and closes a few times. “Uh…” is the only thing he can say apparently. He glances down at Eddie’s lips again. Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“Do you really want to know?” Steve asks.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Eddie says now concerned at what the hell Steve is going to say.

“This is going to sound so stupid, but… ever since I got my glasses and saw you… it was like… seeing you for the first time all over again. And…” Steve swallows and runs a hand through his hair. “I haven’t been able to see you the way I did… before.”

“What?” Eddie questions because what?

Steve runs a hand over his face and takes his glasses off, as if it’s going to help him to think. “I can’t stop thinking about the way your eyes shine and have such intense depth. The way the corner of your eyes crinkle when you smile. How I can see every strand of your hair and it looks… so soft…” Steve trails off and reaches for a curl, feeling it between his fingers before releasing it.

Eddie swallows. There’s no way that Steve means what he thinks he does.

Steve puts his glasses back on and stares at Eddie. He glances down at his lips and says, “And I mean it when I say I can’t see you the same way as before because I keep staring at your lips, and I want more than anything to kiss them.” His eyes flicker back to Eddie’s, pleading and scared. Steve corrects himself. “I want to kiss you.”

“Making you get glasses was the best thing I’ve ever done, then,” Eddie says, cupping Steve’s jaw and kissing him gently. His nose nudges against the frames, but he can’t complain.

Steve pulls back and takes the glasses off. “And taking them off is about to be the second best thing I’ve ever done,” Steve says before kissing Eddie again.

[euphorajeon]

taste your whiskey kiss | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff (?) | college!au, boxer!jk

— word count: 1.2k

— warnings: long-haired, glasses-wearing jk, annoying jk, oc still wont admit that jk is hot, jk is supposed to be a cs student, making out, mention of oral sex (f. receiving), this is plotless honestly i just miss boxer!gguk T_T

— summary: long-haired jeongguk is a menace. long-haired, glasses-wearing jeongguk is even worse.

— author's note: boxer!gguk is back at last! sorry for the (again) weird summary though. i wrote this in one sitting after that YTC in Busan episode came out and jeongguk blessed us with him wearing glasses :))) anyways. hope you enjoy!

— tags: @dunixxd

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

“Glasses?”

You look up to accept the peck your boyfriend gives you as a greeting while he hums a confirmation, the object perched on his nose knocking against your nose lightly. It’s sled down his nose so much that he looks like a grandpa from your point of view.

“Since when do you wear glasses??”

“Since my mom decided that putting my eyes five centimeters from my computer screen is not good for my sight.” Jeongguk’s hand moves to his nose to adjust his glasses. “She said my codes would never work if I keep mistaking commas for periods.”

You let out a sigh as he takes a seat on his desk chair, his computer displaying lines upon lines of codes you’d never be able to understand.

“You could zoom in, you know, instead of doing a staring contest with the screen,” you say matter-of-factly, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Jeongguk spins his chair around just to give you a one-eyebrow-raise.

“And where’s the fun in that?”

The playful smirk he sports afterwards makes you roll your eyes, not getting why your boyfriend enjoys flirting with danger like that.

“Besides, I can’t see the whole code if I zoom in. Hard to see where it went wrong.”

“Yeah, keep making excuses until you go blind,” you frown as you look at his eyes behind the round lenses. “I won’t help you if you run yourself into a pole.”

Jeongguk shakes his head in mock disappointment. “That’s harsh, babe.”

“That’s your reality if you keep damaging your eyes.”

“Why are you suddenly so hostile? It’s just a pair of glasses.” Jeongguk runs a hand through his long hair, visibly getting frustrated with your elevated emotions.

“I don’t know!” Oh, you do know. “Just— get back to your codes. We can talk about this later.”

“I have something else to do later,” your boyfriend bites back with just as much fervor. “But sure, I can spare some time to talk to you about my glasses.”

He turns back around in his chair and you’re left to stare at the black wavy hair that curls around his nape as he types away on the keyboard.

Despite your denial earlier, you know exactly what got you so worked up like this.

It’s the same thing you felt when Jeongguk first showed up on your doorstep with piercings and a tattoo sleeve, the same thing you felt when he provoked you in the gym, the same thing you felt when he dyed his hair to your favorite color.

You hide behind worrying for his wellbeing when all you want to do is scream how hot he is to his face.

It’s truly unfair how your boyfriend manages to look so hot even in something as simple as a pair of glasses. A pair of prescription glasses at that, too. That combined with the long hair that frames his handsome face perfectly might just be the death of you. It takes everything in you not to pull him away from his coding assignment to tug at his hair as you explore his mouth with your tongue.

Your mind is reeling thinking that all of this is just because one single pair of prescription glasses. And the hair too, you guess, but it’s not like you haven’t experienced what long-haired Jeongguk is like in bed. (He made sure you know that he was a menace a few weeks ago when his hair only reached a bit below his ears.)

By now, you should be immune to whatever shit he’s going to pull, yet here you are.

Half an hour pass before Jeongguk stops typing and lets out a sigh, turning his chair around to face you once again.

“I can’t focus when I know you’re upset with me.” His tone is curt, like you being upset is wasting his time. “So talk.”

“You’re the one who asked me to come, then you blame me when you can’t focus?” you scoff.

“Didn’t think you’d get upset over my fucking glasses.”

“You’re only wearing glasses because you’re too stupid to think that exposing your eyes to such short distance to your monitor is not gonna damage them! You’re the reason why I’m upset!”

“Oh really? Isn’t it because I look too hot in these glasses but you have too much pride to say it to my face?”

You force yourself to sound firm in your one-worded response. “No.”

“No? As in you don’t wanna make out with me right now and fog up my glasses?”

“N-no.”

You’re wavering. It’s over.

“Okay.” Jeongguk shrugs. “I want to make out with you.” The stare he gives you is piercing. “So climb onto my lap and let me take those feisty bites I know you’re dying to give.”

It doesn’t take a second for you to leap off the bed onto his lap, crashing your lips to his in a mess of teeth and tongue. Feels like dejavu when you tug at his lip ring hard enough to make him let out a whimper of pain.

“Why are you so annoying?” you manage to say in between kisses. “If you wanted to make out you could’ve just said so from the fucking start.”

Jeongguk hums, hands on your waist to pull you even closer to him. “You’re more fun when riled up.”

You grab a fistful of his hair and yank hard upon hearing his reason. “Say that again and I’ll withdraw any form of physical intimacy for a month.”

“See?” He grins. “Feisty.”

“Fuck, just kiss me.”

He does, biting your lips and licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue you can’t help but moan. It just fuels him even further to tighten his grip on your body and steal all the breath away from your lungs.

“Should I— fuck— put on the tongue piercing?” he asks when you roll your hips against his, creating a delicious friction between your bodies.

“No,” you pant. “That thing is— wait.” You pull away a fraction when you remember his words from earlier. “Didn’t you say you have to do something else?”

“Make out with you.”

His lips chase yours but you evade them, confused. “Huh?”

“My to-do-list. For today. Make out with you. Nothing else.”

You let him capture your bottom lip between his lips to suck and chew on like a kid would to a jelly while you contemplate the meaning behind his answer.

Once you understand, you deliver a harsh bite to his bottom lip, making him hiss (in pleasure or pain, you don’t care.)

“Yeah, babe, hurt me with your mouth,” he moans, but it doesn’t last long as he pulls away with another hiss.

“Ah, gotta take these off though, it’s digging into my nose.”

He slips the glasses off his nose, a faint red mark from where it pressed too hard on his skin. You move to place a soft kiss against the flesh, a stark contrast to how you’ve been kissing each other seconds ago.

“That’s what you get for being annoying.”

“Your kiss? Yes please.”

“Shut up.”

He dives back in for your lips, but barely a second pass when he pulls away again, making you groan impatiently. “For someone who wants to make out with me, you sure are pulling away a lot.”

“Just thinking,” he says. “How about I put on the tongue piercing and eat you out until you beg me to stop? Last time you only lasted three, let’s make it five this time, hm?”

You give him six.

a/n: i haven't written in 4 months so i apologize that this is bad hehe. thanks for reading! any feedbacks here will be appreciated :D

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

King of My Heart | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (I think it's pretty GN, lemme know if it's not!)

Warnings: Curse words, fluff!

Author's note: Remember the 'untitled Spencer fic' in my ideas poll? This is the one! If you have 20/20 vision (fy, honestly), you probably won't relate to this, but indulge me, please? Thank you. Sincerely, a glasses/contact lenses-wearing gal.

Words: 2K

Nursing my cup of coffee in the break room, I read through the case file JJ had given us. We had been working on it for three days straight and were still so far from a solution. It had been hard to think without any sleep for thirty-six hours. And the humid San Francisco air didn’t help me much either. 

My eyes were as dry as a desert, making wearing contact lenses hurt like a bitch. 

I harshly squeezed my eyes as I looked at the file, in hopes to get them some moisture. Of course I had forgotten to pack my glasses. Most of the time, I don’t even need them. Without them, I could just see about enough to stumble from the bathroom to any bed. But I couldn’t take them out while working. 

“Hey,” the familiar voice of Spencer Reid captured my attention. 

Spencer and I had hit it off quite quickly when I joined the BAU one and a half years after he had. Mostly because we were the closest in age and our similar interests had drawn us together as well as the fact I had spilt coffee over him the first time we met. Now, one year later, the two of us were pretty much inseparable. Even our supervisor, Aaron Hotchner, barely dared to split us up. Put the two of us together and we’d come up with the best theory for the case we were working on. 

“Oh, hi, pretty boy,” I greeted back, smiling up at him with narrowed eyes. 

He offered me one of the pastries he and JJ went to get before they came into the precinct. “Here. You need some sugar,” he told me and I gladly accepted the sugary good. Spencer took a seat opposite of me, delving into his own pastry. 

“Oh, King of my heart,” I grumbled, enjoying the food a little too much. 

“Did you find anything in that code yet?” he asked instead, ignoring my food-orgasm. 

Shaking my head, I broke off a piece of the pastry and popped it into my mouth. “I thought it was the Caesar Shift first, but I can’t figure out what the shift would be…” I mumbled, furiously pressing my knuckle underneath my right eye. 

When Spencer didn’t react to my mumblings, I looked up to find him rummaging through his satchel. I furrowed my brows as he procured a rectangle-shaped box and out came his glasses. Confusion rose within me as he offered them to me, which I believed was apparent on my face as he explained himself. 

“Take out your contacts and put my glasses on,” he ordered in that honey-sweet voice he only ever used on me. “You’ve been squinting and blinking for about half an hour while going through that file and your eyes are bright red. So, unless you want to tell me you’re on drugs right now, take out your contacts and put these on.” 

Hesitantly, I reached for the frames. “Spence, do we even have the same prescription?” 

“You’re a -2 on both eyes, aren’t you?”

It surprised me a little that he knew that. More than it surprised me that he knew I was struggling. He was a profiler after all. 

“That’s what I thought,” Spencer said and took another bite of the pastry in his hand, watching me to make sure I’d put the glasses on. 

My eyes skidded from the glasses to Spencer and back. “I don’t have my little contact case with me here. It’s in the hotel.”

I shouldn’t be surprised when Spencer fished out a bottle of lens care solution and an exact replica of my contacts case, but somehow, I was. This guy kept on surprising me, no matter how well I thought I knew him. 

“Now, take out your contacts and put my glasses on.” 

Sometimes, Spencer would do these things, these tiny gestures that had my stomach fluttering in a way that a friend shouldn’t make you. It was often just him getting my coffee in the mornings or handing me a sweater when I shivered. He got me food before I even realized I was hungry or a glass of water before I realized I hadn’t even drank anything that day. 

He was simply marvelous and it was merely impossible not to fall for him. 

Once I had Spencer’s glasses on and looked at the code again, I finally deciphered it. Excitedly, I ran into the briefing room where Derek, Elle, Spencer and Hotch were gathered. I was too focused on explaining them the theory behind the code, that I had missed the exchange of glances between Derek and Elle until they voiced their thoughts.

“Are you wearing Reid’s glasses?” Morgan asked, a teasing smirk on his face. 

“Yes, my contacts were hurting me, but that’s not the point–” I said before lapsing back into my explanation. There was no time to stand still to explain to them why I was wearing Spencer’s glasses nor did we have time for them to tease me about it. 

 Though it wasn’t until two days after the case that Elle eventually spoke to me about it. The team had decided to go for drinks at O’Keefe’s and Spencer had handed me the back-up sweater he kept in his satchel for me. 

“So,” Elle started when she joined me at the bar to grab another drink. “When are you gonna admit you’re in love with him?” 

Though my cheeks felt hot, I scoffed. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“You’re wearing his sweater,” she pointed out, bemused that I would even try and lie to her. 

I shook my head. “No, this is my sweater… Which he evidently keeps in his bag for me because he knows I always forget it and I… just… like… how it smells –” I groaned, rolling my eyes while Elle let out a loud cackle. “Fine! Fine. Okay?” I sneered. 

“Admit it.” 

“I admit it, okay? I am… in love with Spencer – But how could I not?” I hissed at her before turning my head to look over at our table where Spencer, Hotch and Derek were laughing at something Penelope had said. “He keeps doing these… gestures… Like, the other day, I was struggling because my eyes were hurting so much and he just handed me his glasses. He remembered my prescription and knew I was struggling before I could even tell him.” 

A smile landed on Elle’s lips as she nodded her head. “And he always brings you your coffee in the mornings.” 

“You noticed that too?” Elle nodded her head in response. “See, I couldn’t not fall in love with him. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose,” I said between gritted teeth as though I was actually mad at Spencer for making me fall for him. 

My coworker scoffed. “Almost like he’s in love with you, or something.” The sarcasm was dripping off her words, but I shook my head at her. 

“No, he’s not. He’s just… nice like that.” 

Glaring at me, Elle conveyed her message of, “Are you kidding me?” before the words actually left her mouth. 

Her words haunted me for a good week before I finally dared to ask Spencer about it. Though it was more snapping at him rather than actually asking him. During one particular case, I was getting frustrated by the way he was treating me and the way it was making me feel, I let those feelings take the better of me. 

For an entire day, I had been crabby and snapping at everyone who even dared to insinuate I was on my period. Of course, I was, inconveniently, on my period, but no man needed to tell me to calm down. Spencer must’ve noticed, because that night, he knocked on my hotel room door. 

“Hi,” he greeted with a soft smile. 

“Are you here to tell me I shouldn’t have been so snappy towards that captain? Because I know,” I told him immediately, not even giving him a ‘hi’ back. 

He shook his head and held up a tub of ice cream and a hot water bottle. “I got these from the reception.” 

Eyeing up the items in his hands, my insides went all mushy. But before I could allow myself to melt into putty, I groaned and turned on my heel, marching into the room and leaving the door open for Spencer to walk in. Confused, he followed behind me and closed the door behind him. 

“Are you okay, y/n?” 

“No! No, I’m not okay, Spencer.” 

He looked at me and seemed so lost. There was no reason for me to snap at him, but I couldn’t handle it anymore. I couldn’t handle this ball of feelings sitting in my chest. It was bound to explode at some point and that point was now. All it took was for him to knock on my door with ice cream and a hot water bottle. 

“Y/N? What’s wrong? What’d I do?” 

After rubbing my hands across my face, I tangled them into my hair, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. “How do you expect me not to fall in love with you when you keep doing shit like this?!” 

Spencer flinched slightly at the volume of my voice and the harshness of my words. Once it registered in that magnificent brain of his, he let out a chuckle. It surprised me a little that he found this so amusing. My anguish was amusing to him. 

“Do you think it was easy for me to try and not fall in love with you when you spilt coffee on me the first time we met and you were dabbing my chest with napkins?” 

The memory of meeting him in the coffee shop before either of us even knew we were going to be colleagues, flooded into my mind. I was nervous for my first day at the BAU when I smashed into him, coffee flying everywhere. He’d tried to calm me down, spewing facts about coffee and people wanting to outlaw it. 

“Do you think it was easy for me not to fall in love with you when you asked me to go and watch that French film about the choir without subtitles? Or when you call me ‘pretty boy’? Or when you get all clingy when you’re drunk?” he scoffed, his eyes trained on me whilst my insides turned to mush. 

“I’ve been trying to push these feelings away since we met at that coffee shop, y/n, but I realized that I couldn’t turn them off. I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you because you are quite literally the person of my dreams and I wanna continue to take care of you and make sure you feel loved because that’s what you deserve.” 

My eyes watered at his words, my brain registering that everything happening at that time was real and not a dream. As Spencer let out a relieved sigh, I knew that the waterfall of words coming out of him had been building up inside him until the dam finally broke. 

He stood there, a few feet away from me, staring at me with those puppy-dog eyes that I could never really resist. His lips looked so kissable. An urge I had been able to keep at bay for a while, though it became harder and harder the longer I didn’t give in. 

But right then and there, in a hotel room somewhere in Delaware, I had to give in. 

Within three big strides, I was in front of him and grabbed his face, bringing his lips down to mine. The kiss surprised him a little, but he quickly melted into it and melted into me the same way I melted into him. 

“The ice cream is melting,” Spencer mumbled against my lips and pecked a few short kisses to my mouth before grabbing my hand and guiding me towards the bed. 

As he opened the tub of ice cream, I let out a groan. He had picked out my favorite; cookie dough. Though that didn’t surprise me anymore. “Ugh, King of my heart,” I scoffed with a delighted roll of my eyes before digging in with him. 

And all at once, he was the once I had been waiting for. 

King of my heart, body and soul. 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist: @boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer 

[emmyrosee]

Let me have this uncle brainrot-

uncle!osamu gets glasses, and it’s the worse thing to happen to Miya Hisako.

It’s nothing major, his eyes just slowly start to go awry from readings and focusings and just general age, and despite being young, he’d rather just jump on the horse with glasses now than let his sight get worse and worse with time.

He looks good with them! And they certainly do help with his vision, even if it’s a lighter prescription, it’s definitely nice to just see the world normally again.

But not everyone seems to take kindly to the new addition.

Namely that of your seven month old.

“Hey tiny,” he groans, crouching down to pick up the child, who is staring up at him. “Oh I missed you so much.” He plants a few kisses on her chubby cheeks, and is confused by her lack of affection back. Her eyes are focused on him, very intently, as if trying to look past him and into his soul, and he shivers slightly under her weirdly cold gaze.

“Sako? What’s wrong-“

Just before he can finish, Hisako absolutely screams. Her vocal chords shake, her face screws shut, and she starts flailing and kicking herself from Osamu’s grip. He’s horrified, he’s so upset, and he’s trying his hardest to not get smacked by her waving hands and kicking feet. He tries to soothe her, shush and hold her close- maybe he pinched her by accident?- but it isn’t until one tiny fist swats at Osamu’s face and knocks the glasses clean from his nose that you intervene- just as Atsumu storms in to maul whatever creature was distressing his baby.

Brown eyebrows furrow in fury as they land on the blanched Osamu, who’s heart is currently in the process of shattering.

“I’ll kill you-“

“‘Tsumu, relax,” you sigh, grabbing your child from Osamu’s arms and bending down to pick up the frames from the floor. “I was right here, he didn’t do anything.”

“With her screaming like that, he must’ve!” The blonde accused, but with the glare you send him, he shuts his mouth pretty quick.

“No, I didn’t,” Osamu hisses; he’s trying hard to not cry, but you don’t say anything about it. He’s already hurt enough at his niece’s reaction that you’d hate to draw attention to it. “Whatever. Let’s just have dinner.”

And dinner goes no better. Hisako won’t eat, she’s just staring at Osamu with all of her might, and osamu can’t bring himself to look at her. And despite Atsumu’s efforts to make small talk, you all finish your food in predominant silence.

He’s an absolute mess, he doesn’t know what he did but he wants to fix it, because a life where Miya Hisako hates him is not a life he's about to live.

With dinner done, you tell him to go sit and relax, calm himself down from his impending meltdown before dessert- it's met with one hell of a fight from the chef, but in the end he relents and settles on the couch. As he removes his glasses to apply pressure to his eyes with fingers, he hears a happy little coo just a few inches away.

Then, tiny hands paw at Osamu’s legs to be lifted up into his arms, but he hesitates. This, makes Hisako whine to be lifted, and he chews his lip before calling for Atsumu to remove the bundle of joy that’s hurting his heart. The blonde rolls his eyes, “you could pretend to want your niece-“

“Atsumu, enough,” you snarl, but it’s not enough to stop osamu from sighing as he puts on his glasses, hoping to ease the migraine in his head.

When Hisako tries to squirm away again, your brow quirks.

“Osamu,” you say softly. “Take those off.”

“Why-“

“Because I said so.”

“Yeah, you know better than to question my better half,” Atsumu scoffs, grabbing a pastry to stuff into his mouth shamelessly.

The chef grumbles before doing so, and after a few minutes of staring, she smiles and coos for her uncle’s attention.

“Osamu, your glasses!” You laugh. “It’s your glasses!”

Three heads tip cutely in confusion for your words. You roll your eyes, “she doesn’t recognize you with your glasses. You probably scared her earlier, she doesn’t recognize it’s you!”

To test your theory, Osamu puts his glasses on once more, and the infant whines and tries to burrow against atsumu, and when osamu removes the frames and taps her on the leg to look at him, Hisako eagerly reaches out for him.

“Oh thank god,” Osamu says in one quick breath, taking the child from Atsumu and into his own arms, nuzzling into her neck and smoothing down the little wisps of hair on her head and squeezing her tightly while she giggles and plays with his hair in chubby fingers.

“I think you actually just saved my brother,” Atsumu says in amazement, and you shrug with a smirk before taking a sip of your tea.

“I’m magic like that.”

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook stumbles with his new pair of eyes.

> fluff (they’re just so cute okay) / wc: 2.8k

> warnings: jk mentions something about getting slapped in a sexy way he’s a menace that’s all

note: let me just get all my thoughts about jungkook in glasses out from my system please bear with me thank you T__T funny enough my eyes were hurting and watering like crazy while proofreading this srry

—

“wow! this is what i’ve been missing out on?” jungkook muses in wonder as he comes face-to-face with one of your books he snatched from the center table.

he widens his eyes when he lowers down his glasses, and then blinks excessively when he puts it back on.

“my feet hurt like hell.” you complain as you plop down next to him on the couch, all cozy in your pajamas.

you spent half the day killing time by exploring every inch of the mall because you had to wait for both of your glasses to be done. you had one of your glasses’ lens changed because the scratches have been too bothering you too much, while jungkook finally got his first prescription glasses.

he has been complaining about his blurry vision for quite a while now, and he agreed that he should get it checked when you told him that it might get worse if he doesn’t as soon as possible. however, despite reminding him many times, the plan kept getting put off and pushed to the back of his mind.

when you informed him about your plans of going to the store to get your glasses fixed, at last, the inescapable opportunity for him to tag along has come.

“how is it? you don’t feel dizzy or anything?”

you watch him flip through the book sitting over his crossed legs, observing that he can read the small characters from a considerable distance without squinting unlike before. he has tried on your glasses a few times in the past, but generally, you don’t let him wear it because it might not be suitable for his eyes.

“no, not anymore atleast.”

he grimaces as he recounts himself almost tripping on his own feet when he was asked to walk around wearing the fourth lens the doctor made him try on. it made everything look five times nearer, and a heavy headache weighed on him in a snap. if he wore those for a minute longer, he would’ve thrown up.

why you refuse to let him wear your glasses for longer than a minute— that’s when it fully dawned on him.

“baby, thank you for always protecting me.” he engulfed you in a tight hug as soon as he exited the small room.

“from what?” you squeaked in confusion, unsure hands rubbing his back. “do i need to fight someone for you?”

you chuckle at his displeased expression. “that’s good. you should always wear it so you get used to it, okay?”

“so i won’t be able to live without it like you?”

he smiles with his nose scrunched, turning his head to look at you. he gasps dramatically, and you tilt your head in question.

“i thought it was impossible for you to get even prettier in my eyes. but look at you!” he gently pinches your cheeks, and it takes everything in you to hold back a love drunk smile.

“i’m pretty?”

he leans in for a kiss, “divine. it’s like getting so near a painting you can see the brush strokes.” but then halts a few inches away from your lips. “guess we can’t do this when we’re both wearing glasses.”

it’s almost embarrassing; how you’ve shared about a million kisses with jungkook, and yet, you’re still holding your breath like this is about to be the first time you feel a man’s lips on yours.

“i’m not wearing mine, though?”

the thud of your book colliding with the table before it fell on carpeted floor would make you angry, but jungkook rudely interrupts before your train of thought could glide along the tracks, kissing off the anger from your mouth before you can nag at him.

frisky boy, trying to leave permanent marks on his glasses on the first day.

he pulls away with a pondering look, chewing on his bottom lip. “this is too big. i should get the same frame as yours. i’m already used to kissing with that between us.”

you sigh deeply, tucking his hair behind ears to get a good look at your boyfriend’s face. is jungkook wearing prescribed glasses one of your untold fantasies? maybe. not that you’re rejoicing that he fucked up his vision but . . . maybe.

in conclusion: men have their girlfriends walking fashion shows when shopping, and you have jungkook trying on thirty different pairs of glasses.

“hmm, not a bad idea. you do look good in those, too.”

he picks up his phone to check himself out through the front camera, messing around with his hair as an unshakable habit. “do you really like this one too?”

“i thought it was impossible for you to get even sexier in my eyes.”

“that much?” he unabashedly gives you a playful smirk, the familiar twinkle of his eyes lighting up the dim living room. he inches closer to wrap his arms around your waist, but his posture sags at your next words.

“nuh-uh.” you tut as your strict hands detain his forearms.

jungkook’s heart thunders upon seeing the expression you’re wearing, the kind that usually signals he’s about to hear excessive whining (said lovingly) and / or aggressive stomping against the floor (again, said lovingly). “before that, go pick up my book and pray to god that it didn’t get damaged.”

his head nervously cranes down to search for the book he thoughtlessly dropped earlier. he looks back at you with a guilty smile bordering on a wince, and everything that happens after that is a blur.

“please tell me there’s none-”

“a page got ripped! i’m sorry!”

he sprints towards your shared bedroom in a flash, and your hand that fails to pull him back drops to your side in exasperation when you hear the door slam shut. a click follows after several beats. flabbergasted, your jaw drops.

this man did not just . . .

“jungkook, you menace! you’re making me sleep on the couch?!”

“i love you! come to bed only if you want to slap me in a sexy way!”

you gasp, throwing a pillow at the door. you miss. miserably.

“are you into that now?!”

—

“how is yours not fogging up?” jungkook frowns at you from across the table, doe eyes hidden behind his fogged up glasses.

“your mask doesn’t fit perfectly. pinch the wire tighter around your nose bridge.” you chuckle, reaching over to help him out with his predicament. “like this much. that’s how you know you’re properly wearing it. if your glasses don’t fog up.”

the two of you watch as the fog gradually disappears from his lens.

“ohhhh. that was fun.” he takes the glasses off along with his face mask, satisfied that his problem was solved. “what if i’m wearing one that doesn’t have a nose wire, though?”

“you can still try pinching it around your nose, but usually it doesn’t work out well so you need to figure out wearing it in a certain angle.”

“should i just get contacts instead?” he looks at you with a hopeful smile, playfully teasing you with the idea you’ve disagreed with many times.

you raised the concern with jungkook constantly falling asleep wherever in the world he might be. yes, you love it when he falls asleep five minutes into cuddling you, be it you’re sitting or lying down. yes, he is an adorable sleeper. yes, you want him to get all the rest that he can. however, that becomes a problem if he starts using contact lens 24/7. especially if they’re clear or the same color as his eyes, you’re sure he’s bound to forget that he’s wearing them at some point.

“should we just get you new eyes instead?”

“come on now. that’d be too much money. you know how hard life is nowadays? the economy is going downhill!” he speaks with thick busan satoori, brazenly eyeing you up and down as if you just said the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

you pick up his glasses from the table to put it on him again. “that’s exactly why you should settle with what you have, mister.”

he laughs, and it’s the first time you see his bunny smile today. “alright, you got me.”

you thank the server after your food have been served on the table. these days, you and jungkook enjoy going out to eat instead of ordering in. it has been a mission to improve your food palate by exploring different dishes and cuisines. more than that, it seems that this is also a learning experience for your boyfriend. when he finds a new dish that he likes, he tries to make it in the kitchen himself when he finds the time. and well, you get to entertain yourself by poking around and acting like an assistant.

“baby, mine too. please.”

you shut off your eyewear case before reverting your attention to jungkook. alas, his glasses has fogged up again because of the spicy beef soup, which is still obviously piping hot. he is stuck in position, hand holding a spoon suspended in the air.

you never would’ve thought watching someone learn how to live with prescription glasses would be this engrossing. or maybe because it’s jungkook, and everything he does is endearing in your eyes.

you giggle at his cuteness, cautiously taking glasses off his face so he won’t spill the soup sitting on the curve of his spoon. you place it inside his case and keep it back inside your bag along with your own.

—

“baby! i feel blind! have you seen my glasses?” jungkook cries out as he enter the living room. “i even checked the car but it’s not there.”

you watch him walk nearer and nearer towards you, slowly chewing on the first bite off your hotteok. you’re sitting on the floor, and the task waiting to be accomplished on your laptop is left abandoned as you get distracted by a variety show on the television.

“which one?”

“our matching couple one.” he kneels beside you, a pout adorning his handsome face. “oh my god. maybe that’s mine you’re wearing?”

his gaze falls down on the pancake held by your hands, and it flickers back to your ingenuous eyes. this is an unspoken understanding between the two of you. and so, you take two bites in a row, twice as big as you normally would, mouth full and cheeks round. that’s when you offer the dessert to your boyfriend, nearly half eaten to expose the center, where most of the fillings would be.

he enthusiastically takes a bite from one side, moaning in satisfaction. “hmm, you can never go wrong with hotteok.”

you start pointing at the bedroom as you work your damn hardest to swallow the food.

“it’s at the-” you pause to take a sip from your glass of cold, turned room temperature, water. “the vanity drawer. i saw you put it there this morning while you were rushing.”

he scratches his head, fascinated with his own lack of thought. “should’ve asked you first before searching the entire building.”

“dummy-” you manage to utter before he’s guiding the hotteok back to your mouth. the sweetness of the brown sugar spreads in your mouth, balanced by the nuts and seeds.

“don’t say bad words, baby.”

you glare at him. “dummy.”

and he glares back. “brat.”

—

your attention returns to the television when jungkook leaves to pick up his glasses from the bedroom. the brightness of your laptop screen dims, signalling that the battery is dying soon. you click your tongue in annoyance. you reckon it’s understandable that it has been acting up since the device is already years old, but it annoys you nonetheless.

your boyfriend catches you in one of your not-so-finest moments. he looks straight at his front camera with a full grin while you furiously click ctrl and s on the keyboard over and over again, your glasses the original copy of his, sliding off your nose bridge. he has deemed it obligatory to take a selca every time you’re wearing the matching glasses together, and he still seems very much consistent with it two months later, so you just allow him to do it whether you’re aware or not. god knows how you’ve run out of poses.

a hotteok hanging from your lips? body language saying you’re about to throw away your laptop from the balcony? that’s new. that’s variety. that’s what makes jungkook unconsciously keep the smile on his face as he adds the photos to its designated folder, titled with the emoji wearing glasses and bunny teeth.

“is it just me or has that been for your lockscreen for more than a year now?”

he turns on his phone to take another look at his lockscreen, and he shrugs sheepishly. it’s a picture of the three of you on the couch: you, jungkook, and bam. it was a sunday afternoon. you fell asleep on your side, cuddling your boyfriend. baby bam, on the other hand, was cuddling your head. his paw resting on your cheek, head leaning on your ear. the only part of jungkook visible in the photo is his naked collarbones down to his tattoo sleeve, the rest of his torso being covered by a blanket.

“i know. i always end up coming back to it.”

this is one of your differences with him. you have a new lockscreen almost every week, immediately setting up whatever new photo you take of or with him.

jungkook, knowing this, asks: “what’s yours now?”

you pout your lips to point at the table. with your permission, he turns on your phone to see himself from yesterday— reversing the car with one hand on the wheel while looking over his shoulder.

he chuckles in amusement, raising his eyebrows. “this is the exact same picture as the last one you had.”

you stick out your tongue cheekily. “you’re wearing your glasses this time.”

—

magical pearls that grant wishes. you wished for an inflatable pool. the orange haired guy from slam dunk chasing you. running through the forest. scratches on your knee. a koala hanging on your arm. jungkook carrying you on his back to make a run for the bookstore. the signed book you wanted getting sold out twenty three seconds before you arrived. a tragedy.

you wake up with flashes of these broken up dreams lingering in your mind, lazily rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. you find that the clock says 4:17am. you climb off the bed, slipping onto your fuzzy slippers.

however, you pause on your journey to the bathroom when you notice an object shine from your peripheral vision. you sigh, and a yawn follows.

“this is what i was talking about.” you mutter softly, more to yourself, more to the airconditioner that sleeps during the day to keep you comfortable throughout the night.

you carefully remove the glasses off his face. before putting it away in the case, you inspect the temples to see if they became bent and uneven due to him lying on his side. thankfully, they survived just fine. you’re not quite sure if the back of his left ear did, though.

you step out of the bathroom, and it doesn’t come off as a surprise when you make eye contact with a half-asleep jungkook reaching out for you.

“come back.” he whines, voice small and scratched from sleep you almost don’t catch his words.

“on my way,” you respond in a sing-song voice. you slip back under the covers, caressing jungkook’s hair and tangling your limbs with his. you were apart for three minutes at most, but you almost moan in relief when his warmth envelopes you in once again.

you gotta do something about the bathroom being too cold. even sitting on the toilet is painful.

your heart flutters when he decompresses in your hold, making himself smaller to bury his face on your chest.

poor thing, you think to yourself when you brush his hair and notice that the back of his ear has turned red. you’ve definitely experienced this pain many times in the past. still does sometimes. and it stings. you tenderly trace the area with your fingertip, pressing a kiss on the top of his head because it’s the only place your lips can reach.

aside from his glasses, he also left the night lamp turned on, so you quickly take care of that as well before closing your eyes.

“sleep more, my love. it’s still early.”

jungkook’s mind malfunctions and mistranslates your words. he forces himself to reply before succumbing to yesterday’s persistent weariness.

“i love you, too.”

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk @bxbyyyjocelyn @zkdlllin @koostarcandy @tswisal1 @fragmentof-indifference @laylasbunbunny @jjk-jeongirl + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

[forbidden-sin-bin]

Wearing the Glasses

(Eminem x Reader Hc’s and drabbles)

Rated: G

Warnings: Very slight mentions of sexual urges but nothing explicit. 

Tags: Fluff, tooth rotting fluff, slice of life, drabbles, headcanons, no beta we die like men, author has no idea what they’re doing, author has ADHD, glasses kink(?), guys with glasses are extremely sexy and in this essay I will-

Notes: Yes I completely blame it on the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for this idea. And as I post this… HAPPY SLIGHTLY BELATED 15 YEARS OF SOBRIETY EM

—-

It doesn’t matter how long you’ve known or been with him, seeing him wearing his glasses is not an uncommon sight. Especially when he’s reading or writing lyrics.

And lemme tell you, he does the latter. A lot. 

You’ll often catch him writing intently into his notebook with half-lidded eyes, occasionally halting to replay the word flow in his head while his hand motions in his signature style.

It’s oddly hypnotizing, despite being such a common occurrence. You find yourself stopping whatever you’re doing and watch him with awe. 

Eventually he’ll catch you staring at him with an entranced look on your face and raise a brow at you. 

Once he figures out your attraction to him wearing glasses, he’ll never let you live it down. 

Leaning down to brush his nose with yours and suddenly you’re looking into his eyes and oh boy you may or may not be sweating a lil-

When he’s not wearing them and he tries to read or focus on a particular detail, chances are he’ll start squinting that makes him look like he’s glaring. 

One time, you eventually grow tired of his peeping and just put his glasses on for him. 

The moment the frames are on and his squinting stops as he blinks and his vision is suddenly clear. You try and hold in your giggle as it reminded you of a cat.

Marshall, muttering under his breath: “I’m fuckin blind-”

And just to annoy you or for payback, he’ll take his glasses off and put them on your face. Now he’s the one holding back his amusement while you’re the one with horrible eyesight. 

UNLESS, by some wicked chance, your vision is similar to his; Then hey, that’s nearly a win-win situation! 

That, and the fact that the frames are way too big for your face, it’s just too adorable.

Over the years, he’s had to buy a few different styles - not that he really cares mind you - and usually it’s cause the lens need replacing; The prescription wears down over time. Whenever that happens, you’d be there with him as he tries on different pairs. 

“Honestly babe, you look great in any of them.” You tell him as he turns around to look at you wearing aviator-shaped frames and a grimace. 

“You sure about that?”  

He didn’t get a reply as you were bent over, trying not to bust a lung from wheezing.

“Hey babe, you seen my glasses?” “You’re wearing them on your forehead.”  “...Oh.”

One habit you’ve noticed from him: He takes off his glasses and pinches or rubs the space between his eyes. 

That’s when you know he needs a break and you let him know.

Usually he brushes it off and insists he’s fine, but he’s grateful either way for the reminder.

Eventually he’ll realize you may have a point and halts whatever he’s working on for a breather.

And let’s not forget... the one, the only: The Look.

Y’know, the part where he slightly lowers his frames just a tad and looks over them to give you that look.

Chances of you somehow not getting a sudden hormonal surge are very, very low.

[hxltic]

can you do capt price with an s/o who used to have braces (the reader has glasses) and proce found this out cause like he was going through all photo albums and stumbled upon readers old pics when the reader was like in middle school (OH AND ALSO IMAGINE THE READER BEING A METALHEAD IN MIDDLE SCHOOL AND UNTIL NOW AND PRICE IS JUST SO SUPRISED HAHAHAH)

I am so sleepy so this may be bad or short but i find this hilarious

One of the reasons Price loved you was because you were absolutely gorgeous. Your hair complimented your eyes, and the jewelry you wore sat glistening on your skin. Your figure gave him something to grab onto, all his favorite parts of your body on display when you wore those tight fitting dresses for the summer.

When you brought the man home to your parent’s house, you’d expected him to be downstairs helping out for dinner despite how much you tell him to rest. It’s the sweet, traditional side of him.

Not in your childhood room, silently looking through things that aren’t technically hidden, so you can’t get upset with him for noticing.

And it wasn’t the records plastered on your wall with a protective glass over them, or the stickers permanently stuck to the sides of your mirror—it was the pictures. All in relatively small frames that didn’t have the best quality, but good quality enough for him to see the worst of you. You stroll out the bathroom and close the door to the man holding one and chuckling to himself. His brow was turned up in amusement.

“Put. That. Down.”

He turns to you with the frame still in hand, his face never wavering even though you looked like you were about to combust with embarrassment. Cheeks red, eyes blown wide darting anywhere else but him, and hands coming up to cover your face.

The worst part was, you knew exactly which picture he was holding. It was you and two other girls, one of which you don’t speak to anymore. Anyway, your teeth were dark with black braces to match the atrocious personality you’d invented for yourself at the time, and your haircut was one you try your best to forget about. You really wish you would’ve thrown that away.

It doesn’t help your features look the exact same.

The only difference was you were wearing your prescription glasses, the ones you brought into adulthood, but they were somewhere tucked in a drawer as your contacts held their spot.

“Why? You look adorable.” He teases. You looked far from that. You were a menace.

His perfectly sculpted beard moves as he tips his head back in laughter, genuinely taken aback by young you. You somehow are still the same, just more tolerable, with a snappy attitude on top but a lovey dovey mess underneath.

“Oh my god.” You wanted to roll yourself up in a ditch and never escape. The only reason you kept that picture was because the other girl has the same one. The date was written on the back in marker, but you didn’t have to look to know it was during your darkest days.

You finally calm yourself and blink up to your spouse, who seemed to be in thought. His mouth opened to ask, then it closed, and it took everything in you to pretend you didn’t see it. You just knew it would be something else by the taunting half-smile on his face.

Instead, you asked him what he was about to say. You shouldn’t have.

“I searched up the band on the wall. They still around?” He asked.

And while the question seemed purely genuine, you did not take it as such. One side of you wanted to tell him, “No, they stopped making music a while ago,” and the other half is saying, “Kill me now.”

Now he knows you used to listen to metal, but not just the regular kind; the barely coherent, head-bopping, voice-ripping kind. If the man wasn’t older, and this was Gaz, he wouldn’t have hesitated to call you emo.

“No,” you mustered up. You tried your best to not return to the previous state of embarrassment, but knowing your husband, he’d now look into it and try to get you printed shirts for your birthday and whatnot.

He didn’t openly tell you how weird or concerning it was, but this was worse. When someone won’t tell you something directly, but you just know what they’re thinking anyway.

“I didn’t think a pretty lady like you would listen to that.”

. .

The entire way to the dinner table he was on and off laughing. It even got the point he had to temporarily excuse himself, just somehow unable to rid the image from his mind. Even though that’s far from what he wanted.

This late in the relationship and your mother still has horror stories to tell.

[mahiiimahiiii]

its here!!!

An:/ will I ever finish a fic that I start? We will never know. Trying to keep this short and saucy. Maybe it will become a series…? Modern au Baldur’s gate, this is bisexual cat dad gale I mentioned earlier this week, feedback would be appreciated. (first time writing gale woohooo!!)

Tdlr: you thought that I was feelin’ you? Nah that rizzard’s a munch.

word count: around 4k

(this will have a named durge :9, her name is wynne and I post her often, but shes a brown drow with shoulder length curly hair and heterochromia due to her glass eye.)

Cw: cunnilingus, light consciousness, sleepy sex, breakfast in bed? More like breakfast and headdd. Possessiveness, previous substance usage, previously established relationship, durge is mentally illest, slight cervix brusing, hurt and comfort, biting/claiming, we must take it easy so gale doesn’t blow up.

Smothered in a deck of pillows you laid at the prodigal wizard’s bedside, a career you thought merely extinct in the modern era. A purveyor and ever the pioneer he was- integrating his magic into online technology, now consulting other businesses on its integration; Gale Dekarios was always ahead of the curve.

You didn’t think of him a fan of minimalism, his rooms each eggshell white with delicate paintings in dark oak frames. The only things maximalist was his collection of ancient tomes lining the walls of his cozy apartment, a certain fire hazard for one too prone to burning things.

He had worried, inviting you into his home. At one point you had invited him to stay at your home, a shabby apartment in disarray nestled in the lower city of Baldur’s gate- the political district. You hadn’t taken your meds in months, too busy to fill out a prescription- you snapped. It was terrifying and beautiful all together.

He called the pharmacy after that, setting alarms and reminders in your phone to take them. You had slept soundly with a little coaxing, your face softened into peaceful smile, surrounded by sensory items galore. He kissed you when you woke up and cried and apologized for your behavior. Your lips were salty from tears, but that made them sweeter.

He told you not to apologize, he promised he would take care of you.

“It’s rotten work” you had cried, and he laughed.

Not to me. Not if it’s you.

That was the first time your lips uttered an “I love you.” His heart sang- he gushed to tara when he got home afterwards, plucking out stacks of classical romance.

He had much he wanted to share with you.  How he admired you.

He had told you as much.

His bedroom now, had touches of your presence. A couple of sweaters hung in his closet, perfume and soaps on his counter, meds, cup of water, and eyedrops on his bedside table. The door creaked open revealing the multi-colored tressym, the lady of the house, Tara. She chirped in acknowledgement before hopping onto the bed, noises from outside the door got a bit louder. The smell of coffee wafted in, notes of vanilla and cinnamon hit the air.

Tara began to purr loudly, nestled in the cleave of your thighs; she nipped at the hand closest to her. “Have you taken your meds yet?” she inquired, her voice was stern and motherly.

“jus’ gonna’ now.” Your voice slurred, the sleep obvious from your voice. You groped for the pill bottle, holding the tab down and twisting off the lid. You pulled out one and a half tabs, washing them down with water. you grabbed the eyedrop bottle, filled with a tonic gale made for you, compatible for a magic eye. You laid back, dropping the liquid into your eyes and rolling it around in the socket.

Your vision opens as you rub at your eyes, adjusting to sit up in bed. You combed a hand through your hair, knots popping through your anxiety ridden strokes.

“Was your sleep alright dear? You look rather vexed.” Tara was busy grooming, but kind enough to check in with you.

You laughed softly “vexation is a constant state of my life, but I appreciate the thought. Yes, it was fine, thank you. Just distant thoughts about previous me’s.” you rubbed your eyes again, “have you seen our wonderful gale?”

She tutted, stretching out over your legs and flopping to the side “he has requested you stay in bed. But- he is busy as a bee, as always. She began to purr again, rubbing her nose against the sheets. “Consider me your roadblock from getting up.”

You sank back into the pillows staring at the swirling texture of the ceiling. It was stuck with small glow stars that never got charged. Near the head of the bed was a small planetary mobile, little bells sang out from the room’s small fan. Gale likes his white noise.

A rap at the door broke you from your thoughts. Gale’s curious eyes peered over the door, crinkling as he broke into a smile. “Good morning my star, I hadn’t realize you had woken up already.” He wore a loose crew neck shirt, embroidered with flowers at the hems, his pants a taught cotton blend- ones he would call cozy dress pants, and ones you’ve seen him fallen asleep in. his hair was tied half up half down in a spikey bun, strands of steel grey hair glowed with he light of the sun. He held a mug in his hand, one of his kitsch collections. “I got a dig bick” it read.

He set it on the nightstand, caging you in for a sweet kiss. His thumb stroked the outline of your chin mindlessly, savoring the warm way his chest tightened at your tired and happy eyes. He tasted of caramel coffee and apple slices. He pulled away from your grasp, slightly breathless.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have come checked in on you sooner. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep. You could compete for the most beautiful creature in the heavens.”

“Certainly not compete- I am the most beautiful creature.”

He chortled heartily, kissing your lips gently once more. “You don’t know how right you are, my love.”  Gale absentmindedly drew patterns onto your skin, his gaze gentle, yet longing. “Rest a bit more- I have some surprises planned.” With a kiss to your brow he pulled away, your skin felt flush with warmth.

You settled into your pillows, cupping the mug gingerly. You took a few sips. Brown sugar, ¼ milk and ¾ coffee. He always noticed the small details; it was comforting on your tongue. A small sigh of delight escaped your lips. For what good you did to deserve this- you don’t exactly know. Perhaps the gods favored you somewhat to be blessed with such a partner like gale. 

The humming resumed from the kitchen, a hiss and a gentle swear as you heard the oven door click shut. Then the tap ran as he sighed out. He snacked on something as he gathered dishes, a bowl set to the floor, Taras’s breakfast. She stretched against your leg’s wings flapping out, and tail flicking idly. She chirps a couple of times before hopping off the bed.

The gentle music of plates approached your door, along with your beloved wizard, tray in hand.

“ta daaah!!” he lifted the tray in a slight ‘come see’ gesture. You took another deep sip of coffee before setting the mug down.

“Gale- you really didn’t have too.” A slight pout formed on your lips, setting the mug aside you placed your hands in your lap.

“Nonsense. It gives me great joy to make your life easier.” He paused, setting the tray down on the small desk in the corner. “It frustrates me, occasionally- that you wouldn’t deem yourself worthy of that sort of love, that sort of worship.” He crawls towards you on the bed, his tossed hair and neat beard framing his chin and cheeks. “I adore you.” He gently cupped your cheek, straddling your settled legs. “Let me worship you in the way I was made too”

Selune take the wheel, how your heart fluttered at his honeyed words! You tilted your head squinting slightly, processing in a way you only knew how to. “This may seem impulsive, or the urges doing the talking but forgive me. Worship me with sinew, carrion, and pools of warm blood…?”

He chucked gently, tilting your head up slightly. “Less bloody, though it can be dependent on your moon sickness.” He was gentle and patient, only activating at your confirmation. His gaze soft on yours, deep and inviting. “Let me know, I will only do so at your words.”

His breath smelled like cinnamon and caramel, skin scented like warm patchouli and rose. He kissed the insides of your wrists, your knuckles, and tips of your fingers.

“Yes, id like that.” The words were out of your mouth before you’d known it. Warm lips met your skin, kissing his way down your arm, his lashes brushed against you with every kiss. Warm pride surged through your belly, you were his, and he was yours.

You grasped at the back of his head, pulling him into your embrace. Gales legs shifted under yours, bending at the knee to allow you to rest your legs around his waist. He braced a hand behind your head, careful about dropping his head on yours. Your lips moved sloppily, he still kissed like an awkward teen- which ultimately you found endearing. His stubble brushed against your skin. one of hands cupping your jaw, he separated slightly breathless. “Sorry, orb. It’s getting a little tight in my chest. Mind if I…take it a bit slower?”

“You needn’t apologize my love.” You ran a finger against his bottom lip, “I’m always willing to go slow. Your company is something to be savored.”

“I was hoping id be more sweet.” He giggles at his own bad joke, lips returning to yours. He hummed into the kiss, the wizard’s tongue ran over your teeth gingerly, asking for entrance. You obliged parting your mouth slightly, he tilted his face his nose brushing against yours. You ran your tongue against the ridges in his mouth, he let out a low groan his tongue retreating into his. Gale’s breath was wonderfully heated.

“You are quite delicious my dear.”  He grinned shifting his weight to move about. “I would like to- taste you a bit more if that’s alright.”

“oho!” you grin twirling a piece of his hair around your finger. “Shall I be finding out about your most practiced tongue this morning?”

“The very same” he beamed, crinkles forming around his eyes, he bends down kissing the column of your neck, his teeth gently grazing and nipping at the skin. “That is- if you’d like.”

You gave him a quiet nod, a little nervous to fully admit what you’d like. His lips trailed further down over your night shirt, his hands found the edge of the hem, gingerly pulling up his eyes flickered back to you again to check in.

you nodded once more.

The blissful sting of his teeth at your sides, he favored biting you around your hips and waist, a gentlemanly move and to lay proof of claim. Bites upon the neck were simply too gouache for him. You could feel the squeeze of your walls as he kissed his way back down your sternum, lips soft as ever he was a tease. You sighed when he made his way back to your thighs planting a kiss on each of them. He adjusted so he was under the covers, the top of his head tenting the blanket. His eyes claimed yours again, a swirling of questions in his deep brown eyes. You smiled, his gaze then relaxed and lowered.

He ran his tongue on the outline of slick in your underwear, electing a low whine from you. He smiled, hooking his fingers into your rubber band and kissing your skin as it was revealed. His glasses slid down his nose, the lenses fogging up from his breath. He pulled off the garment, a groan rumbling through his chest.

“By the weave… you are absolutely stunning.” His padded fingers grazed against your cunt, sweeping the juices onto his digits. He sucked at his fingers; eyes clamped shut to savor your taste. He exhaled, lips forming a delicious pout.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia…” his voice was soft, almost bashful. “I am blessed to be continuously surprised by the joys of the mortal realm.” His hands found the side of your thighs, hair fanning in front of his face. You reached out brushing it behind his ear, carefully running a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his head. The tip of his tongue traced shallow outlines around your clit, hot velvety breath layered against your thighs. He began to kitten lick up your sex, soft sighs of delight as he tasted you. He hovered over your clit, mouth latching onto the sensitive bud, his eyes caught yours again, the corners crinkling in delight at your slightly disheveled state. Breath catching in your throat, hand on his head, and heel of your foot braced against his back. The sunlight made your skin glow, eyes dark and pupils blown. Silver hair danced along your cheeks, perhaps this is what the visage of an angel looked like.

He swirled his tongue around you, mindful of suction and teeth. Using a hand to push up his glasses, glancing up occasionally. He let go of your clit, listening to the rush of air from your lungs. He muttered an incantation under his breath.

You watched as he worked, his strong nose pushed against your clit, his thick tongue dipping into your core. His hands cupped your hips and ass like he hasn’t eaten in a week, letting out a soft groan as he rutted against the mattress. Then you felt it, a cool touch on your inner thigh as he came up to breathe. His beard was stained with you, a signal to your arousal. You shivered under his gaze; the cool grasp felt wonderful against your puffy clit. It trailed down to your folds, gently prodding at your entrance. You groaned at the intrusion, cool invisible digits spearing your insides.

“Mage hand” the prodigy hummed, kissing the sides of your chin, fingers idly rubbing shapes into your clit. You groaned into his mouth as he peppered kisses onto your lips, his hands left your clit to pull off his shirt and pants, an obvious tent present in his boxers. He took off his glasses and untied his bun, his hair falling against his shoulders. It had gotten a bit longer, just dusting over his shoulders. Your lashes fluttered as the digits curled inside of you, stretching you gently.

“You are a work of art, my love.” He palmed his crotch, fingertips tracing against the swell of your breast. The hand works in tandem with his; slow tantalizing pumps against your inner walls. You squeezed down against the phantom feeling, the wizard sighing with delight. He kissed down your skin again, mouth back against your clit working to free you of the taught knot in the base of your stomach. One hand balanced on your hip the other under his waistband tugging at his shaft. Gasps escaped your lips, as you melted into his hands. He seemed smug and utterly pleased when his eyes met yours again.

The stimulation against your walls faded, a whine ripping though your lips. He gently shushed you, crawling back up your body, kissing every freckle or mole he came across.

“Now, my love, are you ready for me?” his words ached in the right places, dripping with arousal and tinged with need. He clumsily slid out of his boxers, tossing them somewhere in the room. His body has softened from time sat still, less definition from his college days and a soft slope of a belly coated in a fuzzy happy trail. He was slim- certainly, but he wasn’t fit either- Being cared for has that effect on people.  You slid a hand down his hip, squeezing his muscular thigh on its way down back to your side. His hips canted slightly under your light touch, biting his inner cheek. “Oh, the things you do to me, my star, my precious little love.” His words flushed as pink as his cheeks.

“I’m so glad only I get to view you like this, your beauty- in the most natural state- forgive me a moment- I must- “he let out a shuddering exhale, catching his breath. “Ah. Can’t speak much when focus goes somewhere else” his eyes were apologetic.

“Would you prefer…being on bottom?” your concern evident from your voice.

“That would be wise.” He shifted to the center of the bed amongst the clouds of pillows, his hair settling haphazardly as its own halo.

You ran a hand down his chest, admiring your lovers’ body. Your hand cupped his hip as you clambered over him. His knees knocking together as you used them as leverage onto him. Gently you tested him against your entrance, beads of pre-cum welling from his slit. Every muscle of the man beneath you tensed in anticipation. Your hips shook slightly at the awkwardness of the position, head of his member broaching your folds. The insides of you felt plush and velveteen, as you took him inside of you, the most pathetic sound ripped its way from your throat, hanging in the air. Your toes twitched, a sigh shared in tandem at the hilt, one hand over his quick heart.

The outlines of the dark round tattoo glowed faintly, he spasmed underneath you, thighs tensing and untensing. This felt sweeter than any sex before it, each time you burned anew for him. Each ridge upon him your body memorized, cream and pink his skin ran. You kissed his adams apple as it bobbed, his breath ragged from adjusting.  He screwed his eyes shut; face crinkled like crepe paper. You cupped his chest, testing a roll. It stung beautifully against your walls; warmth flooded your sides as you clenched down on him. His hands found your sides, pinching and cupping your ass, gentle to assist your bounces. He exhaled again muttering several incantations, cool slow buzzing ran over your clit.

“Oh, my love- how immaculate you look- “he sighed pushing up onto his toes, cementing you further onto him. His thighs wobbled as he speared you, aching to get every inch of himself into you. The head of his cock pulsed against your cervix, finding spongy spots within you. Your brain bubbled, cheeks flushed and radiating heat, a slight ring to your ears.

He stared at you with eyes you could never get tired of, pools of honey browns devouring your figure. Every flash of your image- ingrained into his memory.

He pulled you onto him, lips too quick to clamp down on yours. Your breath vanished between his teeth, nipping at your lower lips. His thrusts were desperate, earning a few moans from your lips. He captured them in return, his lips greedy for your sound. Your legs wormed around his, toe to toe. He set a bruising pace; his tip gently nestled against your cervix. You clamped and fluttered around him, cupping his chin and hand clamped in his hair.

He gasped for air, lips bruised “bhaal below- I can feel you- “he bit his lip, “gods your so close- so close and so good to me.”  His hips pulsed erratically, tips of his toes sliding against the mussed sheets. “Beautiful- my star you are excellent-!”

No words fell from your mouth, just a coagulation of sighs running from your throat. Your core felt ironclad and taught, your cup overflowed with him around.  The base of your hips ached from the muscle usage. His warm hand settled on your hips, his dulled nails digging into your plush flesh.

“Your so close- my darling, my love- “his words slurred, head tilted back to gulp back air. “Gods- come for me my star- I need you so bad-!” his voice slightly broke. Your mouth found the base of his throat clamping and sucking at his favorite spot. Quickly, he shoved you down as you crumbled into him, noses pressed together. Waves of heat pulsed through your core, sending his spent seed into you. He twitched and pulsed as he pulled you close, his chest gently glowing purple.

And then there was silence, blessed waves of relief as the shocks ran through your body. He deflated, sweat sticking to his forehead, curling the baby hairs around his scalp. You ached. Again, he was the first to stir a hand gently combing through your scalp. A gentle laugh erupting from his chest.

“Well, my dear- you are a gift that keeps on giving.” He hummed, closing his eyes. “I am spent- I don’t think id like to move for the rest of the day- I mean, if you’d like to, that would be our plan for today.”

You hummed in response, shifting your hips. “We forgot a towel.”

“No need to fret my dear…” he reached towards a drawer in his nightstand, pulling out a rag. “Always prepared.”

He helped you up, a whine ripping through your chest at the removal. Settling you back onto his chest, the rag settled comfortably between your thighs. He ran his hands up and down your back, tracing the dimples of your thighs, each ridge of bone and settled muscle. He stretched, reaching for his kindle on the bedside. Bracing an arm on your back. His skin smelt like lilies, soft and smooth under you. You listened to his dull heartbeat, peacefully drifting off in his arms.

[o2studies]

|| ༻`` 18 Sept 24 — Wednesday

I wasn't overly happy in school today, at least not for the second half of it as I spent it alone and with a dying wrist.

My art study is coming along sooo well! I'm super proud of it! But it is taking a good while and so I'll work on getting it finished tomorrow. All of that is really hurting my wrist tho, especially as I'm using colouring pencils (and the next one I'm planning on doing will take just as long and hurt just as bad... but we'll get through it).

I was honestly quite worried about driving back from school today because I wasn't in a good mood at all and I know how I'm like at those times.. But luckily I did calm down 🦎 quickly after putting on my favourite singer before the drive.

I also kept my mind off of school later and got new glasses! My prescription almost doubled but the frames are so nice!! Plus I got a few comments about how nicely they suit me which gave me such a good boost of self-esteem 😊.

Later I ordered pizza for me and my mum, got the amazing idea of bringing a bottle of apple juice to the formal after party where most others will be brining alcohol, talked with friends and rewatched a Medusa animation. I didn't revise Chemsitry as planned but I got a reference and idea for another art study and finished my Math homework.

I'm happy with how my day went after school 🌷.

Day 0 clean (didn't even realise I was doing it at first and I'm not exactly sure why I got so upset but I did)

Day 0

Floor time ☑️ // 🍊

[wannaeatramyeon]

SAMUEL SEO FLUFF >>>>>>

Honestly. Why are we all simping for this unhinged man? Present company included. He's an absolute menace to society but for some reason I just want him to be happy and at peace.

Samuel Seo x Reader: Spectacles

You hover in the store, trying on different pairs of glasses as a way to kill time.

Lucky for you, your vision remains 20/20. No matter how many times you were scolded to not sit too close to the television, stare at a screen too long, or read with proper lighting, you have avoided the need for specs.

Still, it's fun to accessorise.

An arm snakes its way round your waist while you admire your reflection. An outlandish and aggressively pink pair of frames rests on your face.

"Beautiful as ever," Samuel eyes follow your movement, "But I'm not sure you need those."

You feel your lips lift at the compliment as you return them to the stand, "How did it go?"

"Fine, still the same prescription. We can go grab some lunch now if you prefer?"

"Wait, hold on," You wander to a collection a few displays over. "I found some glasses that I think would really suit you!"

You hold out a particularly obnoxious pair, horn-rimmed and tortoise-shell. Samuel lets out a snort, and indulges you. He takes off his own stylish and sophisticated glasses and hands them over, his eyes flashing playfully.

As soon as he wears them, you can't help bursting out laughing. He inspects himself in the mirror and snickers too.

"I've worked my way up, just to have my reputation destroyed by these. I'm not sure anyone at work would or could take me seriously."

One after another, you hand him multiple styles. Each somehow more distasteful and objectionable than the last - round and owlish ones, excessively thick purple frames, another comically oversized that takes over half Samuel's face, aviators reminiscent of dodgy men from the 80's.

Between your giggling and his chuckling, the next 30 minutes passes by in a blur.

Upon returning back the final pair, you couldn't help but comment earnestly, "You're so handsome, Sammy. I think you actually could pull off any of these."

Samuel rewards you with a self-satisfied smile, "Come on Y/N, are we done here?"

"Hmm... What about contacts?"

"What about them?"

"Just at the weekend or whatever. Maybe it would be nice to actually see your eyes y'know," You hesitate slightly, "Without a barrier."

Without a barrier? All his life, Samuel had been building a wall around him. An impenetrable fortress. His glasses have become his shield to the world. And now you want him to start to break this down for you?

He reflects on the past 30 minutes of silliness, the days and nights and months and years spent with you. Both the deep, meaningful conversations and the light hearted banter. The secrets and hopes and dreams shared with promises to always remain loyal.

Maybe it would be nice, he agrees.

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 16: Glasses

Find all my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream has started coming around more often. Their meetings have turned weekly rather than centennial, much to Hob’s surprise. Perhaps whatever happened during his mysterious disappearance changed him more than Dream lets on. Hob is trying his best to keep his pining to himself. It’s much harder now that their meetings are not only more frequent but go on for hours, talking well into the night until the New Inn closes.

About a month and a half into their new routine, Hob has his yearly visit to the optometrist. The accessibility of glasses over the past century and a half has greatly improved his ability to see up close, after centuries of wandering around a blurry world. He’s been wearing contacts for many years, helping him appear younger. But now, he’s decided it’s time to switch over to glasses, where the transition in styles can make him age. It’s funny how easy it is to trick mortals with a few accessories. He ordered a more stylish pair to start, rounded lenses and thick tortoiseshell rims.

A couple of weeks later, the glasses come in. They frame his face well, making him appear distinguished but not too old. He immediately puts them on, eager to get the adjustment period that inevitably happens with a new prescription over with. He goes through his day, lecture in the morning, office hours, endless hours of answering emails, until he heads back to the Inn for his weekly meeting with Dream.

While he waits, he decides to grade some papers. This course doesn’t have a TA, not enough students to warrant an extra hand. He doesn’t mind, he loves giving feedback on papers, but it does eat up a lot of his time. Better to do it while he waits for Dream to arrive. He hears the door creak open but doesn’t look up from his work.

He hears a chair being pulled out and a cloud of black appears in his peripheral vision. He looks up and grins.

“Hello, Dream.”

“Hello, Hob.” His eyes are wide open, studying Hob. There’s a look in his eye that oddly reminds Hob of their meeting in 1789.

“Er, I got new glasses. Helps me with faking the process of aging?” Hob says, trying to explain the appearance change.

“I see,” Dream mumbles, leaning forward and nearly knocking Hob’s pint glass over. “They become you.”

Hob feels his face heat. He thought that he looked handsome in the glasses, but he hadn’t expected Dream to say anything.

“Th-thank you,” he’s able to stutter. Hob stares at the papers in front of him. Has Dream figured him out? Is he toying with his affection? If only his oldest friend wasn’t so damn inscrutable sometimes.

Dream, still leaning across the table, reaches a hand out to grab his jaw, thumb brushing the dimple of his chin.

“I had not known you needed an aid to see. Had you mentioned this, I could have provided you with this tool much earlier. Although, I did not wish to interfere in your life.”

“That’s… that’s not necessary, Dream. What’s done is done ‘n I got by fine for most of my life.”

“I do not doubt that. However…” Dream trails off, staring at Hob with an intensity that is not doing anything to lessen the redness in his face. Hob stares back, noticing when Dream’s eyes flick to his lips. He swallows, trying to keep his shit together while Dream is touching his face.

“However?” Hob repeats.

“However, I find myself unable to resist my own affections any longer.” Hob hears the chair scooting back on the wooden floor and then Dream’s mouth is on his own. He doesn’t have time to even process what’s happening before he’s rising from the booth and kissing Dream back. The pile of papers falls to the floor with a thump as Hob steadies himself, deepening the kiss. Dream tastes indescribable, like the first frost of winter, a soft summer breeze laden with pollen, the heaviness of your eyes as you drift off to sleep.

Hob hears a wolf-whistle from another patron, dragging him back to reality and reminding him that they were in public. Reluctantly, he pulls back and sits back down. He ducks down to grab the fallen essays, setting them back on the table.

“Dream… what? Had I known you were that into glasses I’d have worn them much sooner.” Hob chuckles. “Do you want to talk? I’ve got a flat upstairs, little more private than, uh, what we just did.” He starts stuffing his work back into his satchel, feeling the stares of everyone else in the pub around them.

“I have been trying to resist. I did not want to expose you to unwanted affection. When I saw you and sensed your daydream, I found my ability to withhold my passions faltering.”

Hob stands and grabs Dream’s wrist, dragging him through the “Employees Only” door that led to his flat. He unlocks the door and gestures to Dream to enter, following him and shutting the door. He leads him to the couch where Dream presses himself to Hob’s side as soon as he has sat down.

“You mean, you didn’t know until now? How I feel?”

“I did not consider it until now. I do not look at your dreams. For your privacy.”

“You silly, impossible creature,” Hob shakes his head. “I’ve felt this way since the 19th century. That’s what I was trying to tell you back then. Had I known all it’d take was a pair of glasses and a daydream, we could’ve been doing this years ago.”

Dream rests his head on Hob’s shoulder, glancing up to get another look at Hob’s profile with the glasses.

“You are resplendent. I must warn you—”

“No, dove, none of that. I know what I’m getting into and I want you. Warts ‘n all. Now, kiss me again before you start self-flagellating again.”

Hob pulls Dream’s head off his shoulder and leans in, one hand on his cheek and the other around his waist. Touching Dream. It’s perfect: Dream’s scent filling his nose, his lips soft as rose petals, his deep voice transforming into needy little whines as Hob kisses him deeper. As their tongues wrap around each other, it’s like Hob has never been kissed before. Dream’s hands in his hair, pulling on the long strands as he throws a leg over Hob’s lap. Hob holds his waist as they kiss and kiss and kiss until he has to pull back for air.

“I’m keeping you, love. No matter what,” Hob says, chest rising and falling rapidly. He hugs Dream to him, rocking side to side as Dream groans with the pressure.

“I love you, Robert Gadling,” Dream whispers into his ear.

“I love you too. I’ll shout it from the rooftops. ‘I love Dream! And all it took for him to finally kiss me was a pair of glasses!’”

Dream kisses him again, only partially to stop Hob’s teasing.

[elvenbeard]

Paranoia

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Summary: Something is off with V's medication, but there are many leads and the clock is ticking. What is Mr. Blue-Eyes planning and who is the rat that sold V out? With little expectations, Kerry begins an investigation on his own. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 11/?, 6999 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V - notes at the end) >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

“Vik told you to take it easy, Vince,” Kerry urged, placing his hands on V’s shoulders from behind. He had been lingering on his desk ever since they’d come home instead of finally joining Kerry on the couch downstairs. Watch a show, or just listen to music, just… exist and forget about all the existential dread at least for an hour or so, but no...

V’s half-empty martini glass stood close by the left edge of the table. Gently massaging V’s tense muscles, Kerry leaned down to give him a quick kiss on his flushed cheeks. He hadn’t made his drink that strong, as requested, but V just really didn’t react well to alcohol. In a way it was adorable. This seasoned merc, Night City’s bad boy number one, couldn’t hold his liquor.

“One sec,” V said, a little absentminded, eyes glued to the screen displaying a timelapse of various views of security cam footage of their penthouse. Kerry suppressed a sigh, and he opted now to loosely wrap his arms around V’s shoulders, trying to get his attention away from the computer like this. When he would not budge still, he rested his chin on V’s head and then reluctantly looked at the screen as well.

Selected in the security system’s overview was one of the cameras in the garage, the one in the elevator, one in the armory. Three more that overlooked the exterior of the house, including the entrance. Kerry knew of a couple more that V wasn’t monitoring at the moment. The timestamp in the corner of the footage was racing backwards, as was the video itself, and V had reached mid-August, briefly after they’d moved in here. The recordings eventually stopped at various still frames of him testing the setup on the day he’d had it installed.

“I wish I had footage of my old apartment,” V murmured, more to himself than to Kerry, “Was still spending a lot of time there when I got the first batch of pills from Vik.”

“Nothin’ suspicious here?” Kerry asked.

“No… at least, nothin’ apparent, as in…,” he gestured vaguely, “Masked intruders with blue glowing eyes.”

Kerry chuckled at his sarcastic undertone.

“That would be too easy.”

“I guess…” V shrugged, finally leaning back into Kerry’s embrace now, although with the backrest of his chair between them it was kinda awkward. Kerry shuffled and shifted slightly to better see V’s expression.

“How’s your head?” he almost didn’t dare to ask.

“Alright,” V said, eyes unfocused, but then he paused, “No actually it… was better earlier. Think Vik’s stuff’s startin’ to wear off. But I’ll manage.”

Kerry lowered his head and briefly closed his eyes. The heat of his own drink long worn off he basked in the warmth V was radiating. His warmth, his glow… how many more – or how few – setbacks would it take until it would all fade away forever?

“I gotta cross-reference this with my schedule,” V changed the topic back to the footage, “What date I got which batch of pills, and then see if there’s any weirdness here around those timeframes… Second prescription was around the time we moved in, but there were so many people in and out all the time… And if they got here before the security system was up and running the next best thing is the building’s surveillance outside, but that’s shitty quality and bad angles…”

V rubbed his face with his right hand and took a deep, heavy breath, as if an immense weight lay on his chest. Kerry clutched him a little tighter.

“Ooor, “he suggested in an attempt to ease the tension, “You could just chill until Nix does his job. ’Cause if this AJ chick lied to ya, you’re wastin’ a lot of energy on somethin’ pointless right now.”

“Don’t think she was lying…” V shook his head and finally moved to get up, Kerry letting him, “If she did, she should apply at some corp’s CI department. Better suited there instead of a dingy drug lab.”

He slipped out of his chair and picked up his leftover martini in one fluid motion, bringing the glass to his lips with some reluctance though.

“Y’know, I’ll happily finish it for ya,” Kerry offered with a wink, his forearms resting on the chair’s backrest now, fingers loosely interlocked as he played with one of his rings. V’s eyes met with his, a challenging glimmer in them, a cheeky smirk on his lips. He emptied the rest of his drink in one go. Letting out a long, deep breath V set the glass down and leaned back against the desk, healthy hand holding on to the edge for support.

“I’m so gonna regret this, but…” he still smiled at Kerry, “Not gonna lie, that was pretty good.”

“Despite the olive?” Kerry teased, then slowly pushed the chair aside, and stepped in front of him.

“Even that wasn’t so bad,” he said as Kerry’s hands trailed down V’s sides, then slipped under his t-shirt. Kerry grinned when goosebumps rose under his fingertips as they wandered around V’s waist, down to the small of his back.

“Picked a good one,” he said, trying to keep his mind from wandering as well, too fast, too far.

“Yeah, I did,” V smiled, and Kerry paused for a moment, noticing the slight tilt of V’s head, how he pursed his lips, amber eyes looking up at him through long dark eyelashes. Yeah… he wasn’t talking about the olive anymore.

“Gonk,” he muttered, but then he leaned in, no longer able to resist to kiss V’s cheeks and neck and chest, tongue and lips guided by the dark pink flushes speckled all across pale skin.

“What was that about takin’ it easy?” V whispered hoarsely, grabbing on to Kerry’s waist, leaning into his touch.

“Yeah… you lean back and relax,” Kerry breathed against his neck, “And lemme do what I’m good at…”

V giggled as Kerry slowly guided him over to their bed, accompanied by more kisses, little gasps, and fleeting touches.

Drunk sex usually guaranteed that V would be out cold (blissfully, of course) for at least a couple of hours afterwards. It had been one rollercoaster of a day and night… of a week, really, with both of them getting too little restful sleep. So, Kerry hoped this impromptu afternoon nap would do V good, or at the very least give him a little rest from everything. He seemed at peace at least, lips slightly parted, breathing slowly and deeply, huddled into their lightweight silk blanket the same way he’d been this morning. Kerry stayed by his side for a little while longer, just watching… but Lee and Vicki and a few other studio assholes kept messaging him, interrupting their domestic bliss once again.

They had been trying to get in touch all day, reminding him of deadlines, work that needed to be done, promo events, concerts, collabs… And Kerry had been patiently ignoring them while out and about with V. All he wanted was to stay in bed with him now, help him get the help he needed, force him to take it easy when he just wouldn’t listen to his doctors telling him to.

He lightly brushed his fingers over V’s cheek, the hint of patchy dark stubble along his jawline, eyes lingering on his pulse point for a moment. Kerry had sucked an almost purple bruise into his flesh, right where skin and cyberware met, as V had been flinching and whimpering under him…

Blip beep. Another message from Lee forced the steamy mental image out of Kerry’s head. He huffed and quickly checked his phone, with no intention to respond.

“The situation in regard to the video is somewhat under control now,” it read, and Kerry shuddered, “But N54 News’ showbiz representative sent in another exclusive interview request. They agreed to scratch the questions that had been bothering you in their previous e-mail, but in return they want a statement on the video and your relationship status. Same conditions as before. I think this is as great chance to clear things up and gain you some sympathy – also in light of already circulating rumors. I wrote up some possible responses (attached below) if you want to read them in advance! Maybe we can meet up some time later today, or tomorrow or… whenever fits best. To talk things through, discuss the next steps for the album and everything else. Please just quickly let me know if you’ve read this so I know you’re okay and onboard!”

Kerry suppressed an annoyed groan to not wake V. After a few more minutes of failing to doze off as well, he decided to get up. Drink some more maybe, have a smoke. Smash his phone with a hammer. In fact, what he really wanted was to get high out of his mind, knock himself out with vodka and pills, and sleep for 72 hours straight. Had he been alone, just lil’ old Kerry back at his villa in North Oak… he probably would’ve, and without hesitation.

Instead, now, he slipped into his bathrobe hanging over the gallery’s rail, and as he passed by V’s desk to get to the kitchen, his eyes got caught by the screens once more. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that V was still asleep. He had been so sure to find something suspicious on the security footage… but he’d also been high on Vik’s drug cocktail, dizzy from drinking Kerry’s actual cocktail, and pre-occupied with too much else. No surprise he hadn’t succeeded. If there even was anything to find at all.

Then again, Kerry barely knew what he was doing when it came to their house’s security system either. He had left these types of things to his management team for decades, and so far, that had worked out just fine. Mostly, at least. V had said himself, back when they had this installed here, that there simply was no system that was one hundred percent safe and impenetrable. There were always loopholes, exploits to use, and all that other fancy tech terminology Kerry only half understood but loved to hear V talk about.

“You can never fully rule out human error, either,” was what he liked to say.

Hence why Kerry felt a little silly when he pulled out the desk chair after standing, staring, and pondering it all for too long. All camera views were still selected in the review tool, V was visible in one of them, the 180 degrees view into the armory. He was looking up at the lens, at Kerry, pensive and serious. The timestamp read “August 3rd 2077 – 11.46 a.m.“. Just a little over a month ago, but he looked so much less tired than he did most days now. But also, at this point, he must’ve already been working for Blue-Eyes behind the scenes. Kerry realized that maybe that was exactly why he had been so keen on upgrading the security system before they’d even properly settled in.

Kerry sighed, leaned back in the chair, and then pulled up his own schedule. They’d just talked about it, the day Viktor had delivered more bad news to V regarding his initial treatment plan was the same day Kerry finally got out of the contract with Kovachek. The same day Blue-Eyes got in touch with his convenient help offer. He had to scroll past walls of texts and messages, but he finally found the invitation for the meeting with the studio bosses. July 22nd. Yeah, no footage for that. They had been talking about moving in together for a while at that time already though… early, really, given how they first met back in May only. But V had spent most of his nights at Kerry’s villa anyway, and Kerry sought refuge at V’s apartment all other days. Finding a place for them both together had simply felt like the right next logical step. It still did, more than ever. And with how little time they seemed to have left at the moment, there was no “too soon” for nothing, really…

Kerry held the thought and continued to scroll further up through his appointments on his planner’s interface. The scheduled meeting during which Lee had signed him on, a few days after the final conversation with Kovachek. The appointment with the realtor to view the penthouse. Moving in day, various important events at the recording studio, and with medias. A handful of parties, occasions, dinner dates with V sprinkled in-between, an invitation from River to come over some time… He hesitated for a moment at August 20th. It had been surprisingly hard again this year, but V made it easier, like so many other things...

After a few more studio-related appointments Kerry had reached present time.

He looked back at the computer screen in front of him, had to search for a play button. Then the recordings started moving again, at a quite high speed.

“Ah fuck…” Kerry hissed and looked for a way to slow the footage down, clicking some random buttons, but without success. Before accidentally deleting something, Kerry decided to just keep his eyes peeled for anything out of the usual as best as he managed, but there was nothing too obvious… Them both or either of them leaving and coming back home every day around similar times, AVs or delivery drones landing outside. There was quite the commotion with the moving company in the beginning, lots of strangers all at once, but Kerry didn’t recall any of them behaving weirdly, or even getting near where V stored his pills at the time.

Since there was only about a month of footage sped up dramatically, Kerry opted to just restart it a handful of times whenever he reached the end. Lee showed up in person at the entrance quite often in the beginning, but rarely made it all the way into the penthouse… Kerry hadn’t been aware just how often he did it though, seeing it happen again and again now on loop. He assumed that during some occasions neither he nor V were home to let him in. Kerry in fact remembered only one time Lee had been here in the early days, and how pissed he’d gotten at him for showing up unannounced over something completely trivial. He’d told him to meet up at the studio for these types of convos in the future and he had assumed that was the end of the story of unannounced visits.

Apparently not. Because right now he saw Lee coming back day after day… then not anymore for a few weeks. Then again on two days in a row at the end of August, the 24th and 25th. Kerry was not there to invite him in for any of those visits either…

He paused the preview at Lee just getting out of the penthouse and into the elevator on August 25th. His heart was racing faster than the footage had been, raking his brains… Had V let him in? He doubted that…

He pulled up his holo screen again to read back through the endless wall of text messages Lee had sent him since. Finally, the 25th, on which there had been a little bit of back and forth between them actually, and Kerry’s tension dropped slightly.

“Lee, I’m fucking busy tonight. Shard with demos is still at my new place. If you really need it that desperately, you gotta go get it yourself,” had been Kerry’s final message that night, and it fit the timeframe Lee was at the penthouse.

 So, he’d let him in remotely to pick up that shard, just how he did the other day to feed the cat. Temporary access token, no big deal, right…

Kerry scrolled further back through his messages, but there was nothing in his texts, nor his e-mails, nor his appointments that would explain Lee’s visit on the day before though. Only a reminder to himself about “date night with V <;3”, the reason for his pre-occupation on the 25th and neither of them being at the penthouse.

He dismissed his schedule and stared back at the screen. At Lee with his ridiculous pompadour, bleach-blond still at the time, in his over-priced suit, stumbling into the elevator, frozen in time. Going by the timestamps, he’d been in the penthouse for 15 minutes to pick up the shard which seemed… long for a task that simple. Unless it wasn’t the only thing he’d done there while Kerry and V were out on a fancy date.

No, not him though. The thought alone was fucking insane. That man’s spine was a slinky toy. He almost shat his pants whenever he had to call or speak to Kerry. If all that was an act and he was secretly one of Blue-Eyes’ agents, he deserved a fucking Oscar. Kerry shook his head at his own paranoia, took a few moments to rationalize, think it through. Lee was notorious for his bad timing and inability to just leave him the fuck alone. There were a million possible explanations that made more sense than any deeper, darker purpose behind these numerous, persistent visits and incompetence of fulfilling easy tasks in a timely manner…

He scrolled back through the footage to the several days in a row Lee was there at the start of August, shortly after they moved in. Kerry had his messages to him from that timeframe at the ready.

The one time he actually remembered Lee coming to the penthouse to talk was a Sunday. He didn’t even have a proper reason, apart from “getting to know each other a bit better” and discussing future plans and whatnot. Nothing they couldn’t have done over the holo. Hence why Kerry had been so pissed off, apart from Lee invading his living room unannounced. V hadn’t been there, thankfully.

The day after this incident Lee was on the footage again… No messages in Kerry’s inbox, but a calendar appointment for booking a recording booth. Kerry wasn’t home, and going by the footage, Lee didn’t get into the house either. He lingered in front of the intercom by the entrance a long while though, and Kerry noticed that he was talking – to V maybe, home that day, but telling him that Kerry was at the studio? Lee left the entrance area of the building with reluctance. Then he came back the next day, and again, Kerry couldn’t make a connection to his visit with any of the entries in his schedule or his messages. And then, August 11th…

“Lee… got a problem, forgot to fill the cat feeder this morning. I’ll be at the studio for a while still. Sending you a temporary access token. Cat food in the shelf next to the fridge.”

“You can never fully rule out human error…” shot through Kerry’s mind again. But yes, of course he’d give him access to their house, repeatedly, for stupid little tasks like that. Why wouldn’t he? Lee was a fucking pathetic little loser. He could never harm them in any way apart from maybe, psychological damage, right?

Kerry continued to stare at the screen, the timestamps. Lee arrived on the 11th and then spent almost 45 minutes feeding the cat. Kerry jumped forward to near the end of the collection of recordings, to a couple of days ago. The day he’d been at the med center and instructed Lee to feed the cat as well. Lee arrived at the penthouse quickly and sent his photo of Nibbles eating 5 minutes later. He was out the front door again after just over ten minutes. What had he done for the more than 30 extra minutes during the first “feed the cat” visit? Even his incompetence wasn’t great enough to need that long to locate the cat food and put it in the feeder.

Kerry’s ears were ringing as he watched himself in front of the computer from above. He hadn’t had such an intense out-of-body experience in a while. Trying to come up with a more logical explanation than “he probably searched for and swapped the pills during that time”, he was unable to even lift a finger. The thought ate itself into his brain like acid.

“Lee swapped the pills…” he wasn’t even sure if he said it out loud, so insane the mere idea. For money, for power, for chrome? What could a Mr. Blue-Eyes offer a small light like Lee… Well, everything he wanted, probably, and more. And Lee was dumb enough to believe him, too, if even V could be lured in by someone like that with promises big and times desperate enough.

 When Kerry arrived back in his own body eventually, his paralysis was slowly but surely replaced by rage.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill that bastard…” he muttered to himself, got up from the chair, and instead of drinking more, maybe having a smoke, he went to grab his clothes from the wardrobe and then his gun from the armory. V was still fast asleep and none the wiser by the time the Aerondight left the garage.

Of course, Kerry wouldn’t kill Lee. Not really. Probably. But at the very least he wanted to scare the shit out of him and make him talk. Even if he had nothing to do with all of this in the way Kerry assumed, something was up with him, and Kerry needed to give him a piece of his mind before he imploded for good.

He arrived in front of the MSM recording studio in Charter Hill much faster than anticipated… so much so that his impromptu plan to get Lee to talk was still somewhat fuzzy around the edges. He was in the mood to storm in, guns blazing, but there was no guarantee Lee was even there. Maybe he should’ve checked that before coming here. Kerry cursed between his teeth, slightly clammy hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he parked straight across from the building’s main entrance. Reluctantly he decided to simply call his manager, something he usually never did. It rang a handful of times, longer than he would’ve expected.

“Kerry?” asked the shaky voice on the other end of the line.

“Certainly not Lizzy Wizzy,” Kerry replied deadpan, “Where are ya?”

His heart was beating in his throat.

“I’m at the studio! I’ve been waiting to hear from you, been worried that –…”

“I’m outside the front door,” Kerry interrupted him, “Come down, let’s talk.”

He tried not to let his nerves show, and he was thankful for his AudioVox evening out the slight tremor in his words.

“Uh… why don’t you come upstairs to my office?” Lee evaded, “Vicki just dropped by with two new demos you can listen to, I think – …”

“No,” Kerry said sternly, but he was grasping at straws for a reason as to why they had to meet outside that wouldn’t leave Lee even more suspicious.

“Bring the demos with ya, we’ll listen to ‘em on the road,” was the best thing he could bullshit this quickly, “Been too stagnant lately, gotta move around a bit, get the creative juices flowing.”

Empty phrases he’d flung around a million times before, but they usually worked with types like Lee.

“Oh… okay?” Lee said, then there was silence for a couple of seconds, “Okay, I’ll be right there but… I need to be back at the studio at the latest in an hour, got an important appointment...”

Kerry didn’t reply and simply hung up. No promises.

Lee appeared at the building’s main entrance around ten endless minutes later. Maybe he was truly just very bad at fulfilling simple tasks quickly. Kerry’s doubts were loud in his head as his right leg bounced in a shaky rhythm, the gun in his jacket’s pocket, heavy as a brick, bruising his thigh. Lee jogged across the street, black and blue designer coat fluttering in the wind. When he approached the passenger side of the car, he tried to put on a smile, but it was slanted and forced. Kerry opened the door for him.

“Get in,” he ordered, demanded almost, and Lee slightly flinched, fumbling in his pockets and pulling out a handful of shard cases.

“Got everything with me, I thought maybe we could start with the song demos? But just in case I also brought the interview questions I mentioned, and some other things you can decide on for the upcoming promo events.”

“Wow, great. Now get in,” Kerry repeated himself with zero enthusiasm and finally Lee slipped into the seat. The same seat V had fucked Kerry in so gloriously yesterday… and now Lee desecrated the space with his presence.

Kerry closed the door again and sped off before Lee could say another word, headed towards the highway that would lead them out of the city.

Lee kept babbling without pause, played the demos for Kerry and recounted the producers’ notes on what needed to be changed still and what was good, as well as the opinions of the studio bosses Kerry didn’t give a fuck about. But he had to just nod and smile, because in the end they were the ones that determined his success to an essential degree.

About twenty minutes into their drive, with buildings left and right becoming scarce and nothing but the near-deserted Badlands ahead of them, Lee grew quieter. He stared blankly ahead at the CrystalDome screens.

“Uh, Kerry, at the latest at five I need to be back in Charter Hill,” he reminded him.

Kerry did not respond, only half heard him really, his thoughts racing, eyes scanning for a secluded place he could pull into, wary to not be tailed by gangers, or worse, paparazzi. His GPS navigation pointed out a little dead-end road not far ahead, leading to an old racing track. He remembered the place, knew where he was now. He’d been here with V, very early on in their relationship, blowing off steam after something V couldn’t talk about at the time. That was before Blue-Eyes even, Johnny was still around… In hindsight Kerry was sure it had had something to do with that whole Dogtown mess.

His Aerondight squealed and rumbled across the uneven dirt road, he physically couldn’t go much further than a couple of hundred yards away from the highway, so he pulled over to the side of the road behind a large rock and turned off the engine.

“Uh, Kerry, we still have a long drive back ahead of us, and I gotta – ,“ Lee wanted to protest and Kerry slipped his fingers around the grip of his gun. He tried to breathe away his shaking, but it was no use. They were here now, he had to seize the opportunity, because who knew when – or if – Lee would ever get into the same car with him again.

He pulled his gun and pointed it at Lee, who let out a brief but surprisingly controlled scream and immediately raised his hands.

“K-Kerry I mean… Let’s talk this through, I’m sure you don’t wanna –…”

“Shut your fucking second asshole, Lee, ‘cause there’s only shit comin’ from it anyway,” Kerry ordered sternly, somewhat surprised at his own bravado, “Turn off your phone and put it in the glovebox, and then get out. No tricks, no messing around.”

“Okay, okay!” Lee whimpered, pulled out his phone with a feverish expression and squashed it in the glovebox between condoms, unpaid parking tickets, and one or two satchels of colorful pills.

“Get out, hands on your head,” Kerry repeated, “And slowly start walkin’.”

“Okay!” Lee squealed, eyes big and teary, then Kerry unlocked and opened the door for him before getting out of the car himself.

He looked over his shoulder, listened into the distance, but the desert was quiet. No roaring engines, no gunshots, no yelling. Yet.

With his gun he gestured Lee towards the old racing track, and whimpering Lee obeyed and marched on, white syn-leather boots soon turned orange from the dust. They quietly walked on until Kerry felt there was enough of a distance to the road, and they were at least partially obscured by the tall coarse rock formations and sparse vegetation framing the location.

“That’s far enough. Turn around,” he ordered, gun still pointing at Lee, he gripped it tightly with both hands to keep it steady. His manager slowly did as he was told, turning on the spot, slightly hunched over and squinting against the sun and the barrel of the gun. Kerry just stared back at him, tried to make sense of it still… and wondered if he had maybe lost it for good now. In the end, he had only a vague suspicion, no proof, no nothing. The uncertainty began to gnaw on his to-begin-with shaky confidence in all of this.

“Kerry listen,” Lee then pleaded, “I’m sure this has got to be a misunderstanding of some sort! Let’s just… talk, okay? Without the gun, maybe?”

“Shut it,” Kerry ordered, “I’m makin’ the rules here.”

“Okay, okay,” Lee lowered his head slightly, whispering something under his breath Kerry didn’t quite catch. He never took Lee for a religious person, but a little prayer probably couldn’t hurt in a moment like this.

Kerry still didn’t have a plan of action in his mind on how to move forward. In a movie the hero would probably hold a dramatic speech now, confronting the villain about his crimes and all, but truthfully, Kerry wasn’t the hero here. Holding a whimpering mess like Lee at gunpoint at least had nothing heroic about it. So, he decided to just cut straight to the point.

“Did you swap V’s pills?” he asked, voice not nearly as firm as the grip around his gun. He didn’t even have his finger on the trigger, but the visual alone was intimidating enough, he hoped.

He expected confusion, more bargaining, or just downright denial from Lee. Not for his eyes to grow wide, the remaining color to fade from his face. And for once in his life, Lee was dead silent, stared at Kerry open-mouthed. He’d hit the nail on the head.

“You fuckin’ asshole!” Kerry hissed and took a step towards Lee, pointing his gun straight between the fucker’s eyes, near-blinded by anger at Lee’s reaction. Lee screamed and flinched back, stumbling almost. Now the bargaining began.

“Please, please, I had no choice, they threatened to ruin me!”

“Well, tough shit, guess I’ll do it for ‘em now!” Kerry barked, his chest tight and face hot, and Lee kept screaming, pleading.

“No, no, no! Please!”

“You fuckin’ son of a bitch! To save your own sorry ass you, you – …”

Suddenly Lee’s persistent fear of Kerry and V made even more sense. If he’d been behind this from the start, he’d probably been scared they’d figure it out somehow, sooner or later. Every time they were alone together the bastard was a shaking mess not because he was so bad at his job, but scared for his life. Well, a little bit of both maybe.

“Who told you to do this?” Kerry then asked, “And you better spit it out quickly and as detailed as possible, or I’ll leave your sorry ass to rot out here.”

Lee whimpered and now sank to his knees, hands still on his head, facing the ground and actually sobbing.

“I don’t know them, I swear!” he sputtered, “Never saw their faces, never spoke to anyone in person. It all went over the holo. Directed me to pick up spots and gave me a certain timeframe to do… to do the swap. And if I hadn’t, they’d’ve ruined my life. Oh god… they’re not gonna just ruin my life, they’re really gonna kill me now that you know!”

He tumbled over forward, face-first into the sand and his sobbing intensified. Kerry couldn’t help but feel sorry for him now, a pathetic little loser in way over his head. And his story sadly sounded plausible with the little Kerry and V knew about Blue-Eyes and his associates.

“Fucking hell…” Kerry muttered and lowered his gun, then he closed the remaining distance between himself and Lee. He bent down and firmly grasped him by the back of his collar to pull him back up. Lee neither resisted nor made the feat easy for Kerry.

“Get it together, man,” Kerry hissed through gritted teeth and Lee fell backwards on his ass and just sat in the sand now, a picture of misery. His face and hair were encrusted with dirt, wet streaks running down his cheeks, his hands rested in his lap in resignation.

Kerry knelt down on one knee in front of him, gun still at the ready just in case, and tried to catch Lee’s gaze.

“Hope they at least fuckin’ paid you well,” Kerry said, trying his best to remain calm, scared that Lee would actually pass out if he intimidated him even more. Lee shook his head and Kerry frowned.

“They blackmailed me,” he explained sniffling, “I don’t know how but… They have so much information on me that I was sure no one knew about. How I never went to a prestigious school, the shit my parents did, how many of my credentials are… polished at best, how I… I never would’ve made it this far up at MSM if I hadn’t… improved my background here and there. I’m gonna lose everything if that information reaches the wrong kinda people...”

Kerry sighed deeply.

“Why am I not surprised,” he muttered, but knowing that Lee acted for purely selfish reasons made this somehow so much worse than if he’d just done it for a huge chunk of money. Not that it surprised him though, that was Night City in a nutshell. He got up again and started pacing in front of Lee.

“Lemme guess, you also didn’t know what you were even swapping there, right?” he asked, anger creeping back in, “Cause, surprise, you didn’t exchange some ibuprofen with sugar pills!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths. They still didn’t even know exactly what these pills had been doing to V, but whatever it was, if they came from Mr. B, it couldn’t be good. Some kind of preparation to put V in that artificial body at best, mind control that was killing him even faster than his own body at worst. Everything in-between and beyond seemed possible and plausible, too.

“They said it was none of my concern and the less I knew, the better,” Lee admitted quietly, and Kerry couldn’t help but laugh out loud in frustration.

“You… pathetic shitstain!” he now yelled, so close to losing his temper again, “You’re the worst kind of scumbag, aren’t you? Messin’ with someone else’s life and health without asking any questions, just to save your own sorry ass. Believe me, you fit in just fuckin’ right with MSM and that whole fucking’ shitshow of a corporation. Such a brave obedient little corpo soldier, aren’t ya? Fuck!”

He kicked a small rock into the distance, swirling up orange dust, and its impact against one of the larger rock formations echoed across the desert. The sun was beginning to set over the city far behind them, and Kerry paced back and forth, back and forth, failing to find a solution. Lee held his head low and said nothing either, too shaken and guilty still, probably packing his bags in his mind already. Or shoveling his grave.

V would know what to do now, or at least be able to improvise something, but Kerry was at a loss. He eventually stopped in his tracks, still clutching his gun tightly, but despite his seething anger at Lee he still had no intentions of killing him. The guy had killed himself long ago already by weaseling his way into MSM through crooked schemes. Blue-Eyes was only serving him the bill for it now.

As if he could sense Kerry staring at him, Lee looked up and their eyes met.

“What now?” he asked shakily.

“Dunno, whaddaya suggest?” Kerry shrugged, “Wanna have me put ya outta your misery right away?”

“No no no!” Lee stammered and raised his hands again, hunching over in fear, “Please I… I know I fucked up, big time!”

“That’s the understatement of the century…”

After a moment of hesitation Lee looked back up at him again, carefully.

“I… if there is anything I can do to make up for this…”

Kerry couldn’t help himself but laugh.

“Well now I’m curious what in the fuck you’re gonna offer.”

“I… dunno…” Lee’s brief moment of confidence was blown out like a candle in a storm.

Kerry didn’t know either because, as usual, Lee was useless. Or at the very least he didn’t see a solution that could actually help them either. He needed to tell V about this. As soon as possible.

“Get back in the car,” Kerry then ordered, waving with his gun, “Takin’ ya to your stupid appointment.”

Lee’s eyes grew wider.

“What? Am I… I’m just supposed to continue as normal?”

Kerry frowned.

“What did you expect, that I’m gonna help you escape into a cozy exile somewhere nice and sunny while we clean up your mess and deal with the consequences?”

Lee just stared in response, but Kerry wouldn’t have let him answer anyway.

“You stay put and behave exactly how you always do, play the manager. And you sure as hell will not tell anyone anything about what we just talked about,” he ordered, “If your creep friends call you and ask you to run another errand, you will do exactly that, and don’t let show in any way that would suggest V and I caught on.”

“I… what?” Lee stammered.

“I’m not done yet,” Kerry interrupted him sternly, “Not done with you, either. You will make up for this shit you caused. And I promise you, if I get as much as a whiff of you tryin’ to rat us out or bail or whatnot… V knows people that will track you down to the dark side of the moon to blow your lights out, if necessary.”

The last one was a bluff, although he was sure, with some persuasive words and favors exchanged here and there, even that would be possible, should the need arise.

“Okay, okay!” Lee whimpered, “Understood. I… This meeting never happened?”

“Damn straight. Now back into the car, asshole.”

Kerry was elsewhere with his thoughts for the entirety of the ride back into the city. It wasn’t much, but if Lee managed to keep his mouth shut and not draw Blue-Eyes’ attention, they now actually were a step ahead. Kerry just didn’t know how to use this tiny edge yet, if they could use it at all… and all of course under the assumption that Blue-Eyes wasn’t listening in or watching them 24/7 through some fucked up means already anyway.

“Don’t forget your phone,” Kerry said when he stopped in front of the studio to let Lee get out. They were back early enough so he still had some time to clean himself up, get himself back together before his appointment.

“Yeah, right, thank you,” Lee stammered and stumbled out of the car and slowly started walking towards the building without further words.

The passenger door slid shut and the warm interior lights of the Aerondight engulfed him, but still, it was far from enough to soothe his nerves. Kerry rested his forehead on the steering wheel and let out a deep breath. Something in his guts told him that the studio would call him tomorrow morning to inform him of Lee’s mysterious disappearance or death, and that they already had the next replaceable guy lined up to take over…

“Fuck…” he muttered, smacked the steering wheel, and unlocked his own door. He jumped onto the street, a car passing by honking at him, but he ignored it. He turned to the main entrance of the studio building where Lee was just about to walk through the door.

“Lee!” he called, and Lee flinched and turned around with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights.

“Get back here,” Kerry waved, and hesitantly his manager returned to the side of the car.

“Yes?” he asked shakily, clutching his phone still. Sand was still dripping from his hair and the dirt on his face had dried.

“Get back in,” Kerry decided, and Lee gulped audibly, “Don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you alone right now. These guys that made you do this stuff…”

He didn’t have to say anything else, Lee nodded in strong agreement.

Edge or not, it was so small, so insignificant almost… And no matter how much he hated Lee’s guts sometimes, if Blue-Eyes snuffed him in his sleep tonight… Lee could know more than he let on, maybe even subconsciously. Him already being involved in this whole mess against his will also made him a better ally than any new manager that could be one of Blue-Eyes spies for real this time.

Lee got back in the passenger seat, and Kerry behind the wheel, turning on the engine. How the hell he was gonna break this to V he didn’t know yet. Right as he wanted to drive off, back home, he noted a dark van parked across the street, in good view of them. Kerry hesitated. This was nothing, probably, delivery guys, technicians. Although, no markings, names, or logos on the car.

Maybe this shit was getting to him more than he realized, seeing enemies where there were none. But it had ended with a black van with the Peralezes as well…

He tried to write the thought off as paranoia once again, but just in case, Kerry made extra sure they weren’t being followed before even getting into view of Watson.

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>> Next Chapter

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Notes:

It's been a hot minute, so much has happened since my last update, and I'm so happy I can finally share this ;__; I really had a lot of fun writing Kerry on his own little adventure for this chapter, and I think a few of you will be happy to see Lee back as well XD I've grown quite fond of him and had really been looking forward to this little reveal ever since I first introduced him xD I hope it came as a surprise but not entirely unexpected that he's involved in this mess a bit more deeply than he let on so far.

I hope the next chapter update won't take me as long as this one did, as with black vans showing up unannounced and Mr. B's schemes slowly becoming unravelled I can't wait to continue telling this story! :3

I put a little nod at Dogtown in this chapter, but to anyone who hasn't played Phantom Liberty and wants to continue reading: fret not! Since I started writing this story before the expansion and planned it out without any ties to it, the events of PL will not be majorly referenced here, not beyond what I did in this chapter.

Hope you enjoyed reading this, as always, and are looking forward to how it's all gonna continue (hopefully soon). I would say, we're about to reach the midway point of the story!

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