#just v loving and fluffy

[master-sass-blast]

Better (Even Just a Little).

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five: Chapter One, Part Five: Chapter Two, Part Five: Chapter Three, Part Six: Chapter One, Part Six: Chapter Two, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve

Summary: "You can still remember the first time you saw a rainstorm –you’d just moved to Republic City to study at the city’s university. There’d been heavy, angry gray clouds blanketing the sky. The air had been thick with humidity, like a polar bear dog’s undercoat. And then the calm before the storm had shattered, and the sky had wept onto the Earth below.

So, when you step out of a bookshop while on a Saturday afternoon date with your girlfriend and see rain pattering down against the pavement, you smile. You stop under the shop’s awning and inhale, relishing the freshened air.

And then you look over at Lin and realize she’s gone whiter than a sheet."

aka the Reader finally learns about Lin's capture by Amon and helps her cope with the lingering trauma therein.

Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader.

Rating: G, but this is an emotional hurt/comfort fic so be advised.

Word count: 4.4k.

The recipe I reference in the fic.

You’ve always loved the end of summer in Republic City. There’s still enough daylight during the day proper to enjoy time outside after work, but the nights are cool enough that sleeping isn’t a sweaty, suffering mess.

And then there’s the rain.

You can still remember the first time you saw a rainstorm –you’d just moved to Republic City to study at the city’s university. There’d been heavy, angry gray clouds blanketing the sky. The air had been thick with humidity, like a polar bear dog’s undercoat. And then the calm before the storm had shattered, and the sky had wept onto the Earth below.

It’s different from the North Pole. You’re surrounded by water there, yes, but it is either still or is contained to the ocean basin. And blizzards don’t hold a candle to monsoons. There isn’t the same thickness in the air –the same heat. There isn’t the same aggression in a snowstorm as there is with feeling tons of water bucket down against the Earth.

So, when you step out of a bookshop while on a Saturday afternoon date with your girlfriend and see rain pattering down against the pavement, you smile. You stop under the shop’s awning and inhale, relishing the freshened air.

And then you look over at Lin and realize she’s gone whiter than a sheet.

“Lin?” You put one hand on her back to steady her, just in case she stumbles or faints. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She’s clenching her teeth, jaw locked so tight you’re surprised it hasn’t seized. She swallows hard, staring out at the rain like it’s going to burn her. “I just don’t like rain. That’s all.”

You know Lin well enough to know she’s lying; she doesn’t exactly have the best poker face. And, more importantly, you’ve worked with enough trauma victims to know what a trauma trigger response looks like. We need to get her somewhere she feels safe. You put one hand on her upper arm. “Do we need to get you inside?”

She scoffs weakly. “We can’t just hang around the store like a couple of hooligans.”

“I’m pretty sure we could. They have a cafe section,” you reason, but you don’t try to press the issue further. She probably doesn’t want to deal with this in public. “My place isn’t too far from here. We could hole up there until the storm passes.”

Lin’s jaw works, and she nods jerkily. “Sure. Fine.”

You curl your hand around her upper arm, then hold up your other hand to catch the falling rain with your bending before ushering her onto the sidewalk.

***

The walk back to your apartment only takes about fifteen minutes –but it’s still enough for the light sprinkle to turn into a bucketing storm. By the time you reach the front step of your apartment building, wind is whipping rain across the street in sheets.

You toss the water accumulated over your and Lin’s heads down a storm drain, then follow her into the main floor vestibule of the building. You put your hand on the small of her back and hit the button to call the elevator.

She’s keyed up the entire ride up to your floor. You’re genuinely worried she’ll crack a tooth with how tightly she’s holding her jaw. She keeps her eyes fixed forward, but her gaze is distant. Glazed over.

You nudge her forward when the elevator rumbles to a stop. You escort her down the hall, then fumble in your purse with your keys. You look up when Lin flinches next to you as the sound of the rain gets louder. “Okay. It’s okay.” You get your apartment door unlocked, then usher her inside. “Go sit down.” Your heart wrenches when she flinches from another gust of wind sends rain pelting against the windows. “We could turn on the radio, if you want.”

“Yeah.” She drops down onto your couch, expression still pinched. She swallows hard, then nods. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Of course.” You flip your radio on, adjust the dial until the sound of jazz music floats out of the speaker, then turn up the volume so it helps cover the sound of the rain. You look over at Lin –who’s at least relaxed a little now that she can’t hear the rain as clearly–then head over to the couch and crouch in front of her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You expect her to shake her head. To shut you out in some way. You wouldn’t be offended. Trauma is a deeply emotional, personal thing; Lin’s a deeply private person. All you want to do right now is support her and help her feel better –whatever that means to her.

She’s quiet for a long moment. She’s staring downwards, at where she has her forearms braced against her thighs. She glances towards the window, out at the falling rain, and the scars on her cheek twitch as she quickly looks away again. “It was raining. When Amon got to me.”

Your heart drops. Your eyes go wide with shock. I never knew Amon got to her. You swallow hard, then put one hand on her knee. “Lin –I’m so sorry.”

She grimaces. “The Equalists stormed Air Temple Island. We got out, but a sky bison’s not faster than airships.” Her gaze goes distant with recollection. Her jaw tightens, and some of the color drains from her face. She takes a deep breath, then gives a tight, minute shrug. “I stopped the airships and was captured.” She looks down at her hands. “Amon wanted to know where Korra was. I said no.”

You can gather that she got her bending back –well, obviously, but you also read the articles about Avatar Korra restoring the bending of Amon’s victims in Republic City after the defeat of the Equalists. But that doesn’t necessarily change anything. You’ve worked with enough trauma patients –car accidents, work injuries, abuse survivors–to know that the mind and body holds onto that pain for a long, long time (sometimes forever).

You grimace, heart aching for her. You study Lin for a moment, then squeeze her knee gently. When she looks at you, you ask, “Can I give you a hug?”

Lin swallows hard, then nods minutely before leaning into you.

You wrap your arms around her. You stroke her back with one hand, while the other reaches up to hold the back of her head.

Lin buries her face in your shoulder. She’s stiff for a moment, silent –then, she lets out a juddering sigh and relaxes into you. Just a little.

You take it for the victory it is.

***

You’re not certain how long the two of you stay like that. Frankly, you’d stay like this for an eternity if it’s what Lin needed to feel safe.

But, as it turns out, Lin doesn’t see things the same way.

“Spirits, how long have you been like this?”

You blink when Lin pulls away abruptly –you’d honestly gone into a peaceful, almost meditative state while holding her–then shrug. “It’s fine.” You consider for a moment, then grin and wink at her. “I don’t mind being on my knees.”

Lin scoffs and rolls her eyes –but a ghost of a smile appears on her lips, just for a moment. “Just –come here.”

You accept her invitation and let her tug you into her lap. You shift your weight so you’re not pinning her bad hip down, then wrap your arms around her shoulders. You incline your chin to give her more space when she lays her head in the crook of your neck, then settle back into holding her.

Lin doesn’t tolerate it for much longer, though. She only lasts a few more minutes before patting your thigh. “Go on. I don’t want to take up your time.”

“It’s not like I had massive plans for the day, Lin,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “You’re not derailing anything.”

“I’m glad I’m not,” she says. “I’d just like to read.”

“Ah.” You offer her a small smile, then peck her on her unscarred cheek before standing. “In that case, I suppose I can be agreeable.”

She smirks, bemused, and rolls her eyes while reaching for the bag she’d brought from the book shop. “I’m so glad.”

You amble into your kitchen, but you watch her surreptitiously for a bit, just to make sure she’s settling in alright. She’s still tense –no surprise there–but eventually she seems to settle into her book enough to tune out the rainstorm. You smile softly to yourself, then set about deciding what to do.

You weren’t lying earlier. You didn’t have any grand plans for today. Aside from going out with Lin, you’d kept today clear to relax. I’m kind of hungry… You peruse through your cabinets to see if there’s anything that sounds good, then spy a recipe card you’d left on the counter; you’d found it in a newspaper and cut it out to try later. Spiced apple cookies… You scan the card, then nod to yourself. I actually have what I need to make these. Sweet.

Unbeknownst to you, Lin looks up from her book when you start rummaging in your kitchen and pulling ingredients out. She watches you for a few moments, then asks, “What are you doing?”

You jump, startled. You set your jar of flour on the counter –a massive, thick jar with a locking lid that’s nearly the size of your torso–then turn to face her. “Baking. I’ve got a cookie recipe I’ve been meaning to try.”

Lin arches one eyebrow –but her teasing smirk belies her disbelief. “You bake?”

“What, is it that hard to believe?”

The smirk grows. “And here I thought all you knew how to do was devour the take out I bought for you.”

You stick your tongue out at her –which elicits a chuckle from Lin–the resume rummaging through your cabinet for ingredients. “I like food, Lin. Do you really think I wouldn’t know how to make it for myself?”

“Fair enough. What’s the recipe for?”

“Spiced apple cookies.” Lin makes a hum of approval as you finish lining up the dry ingredients on your counter. You step towards the fridge, then stop and grin at her over your shoulder. “If you’re nice, I might just share them with you.”

She chuckles again, then returns her gaze to her book.

***

Your oven finishes preheating by the time you’re done making the cookie dough. Once two trays of the cookies are in the oven, you tidy your kitchen up, wash the bowl you used to make the dough, then start mixing together the icing called for in the recipe.

“What are you making now?” Lin pipes up when she realizes you’re doing more prep work instead of cleaning.

“Making the icing.” You add some more powdered sugar, stir it in, then set the bowl on the counter once you’re satisfied with the thickness of the icing. “Hey.” You wait until Lin looks up, then hold up the spoon you used and waggle your eyebrows. “Want to lick the spoon?”

She scoffs, smirks, and goes back to reading her book. “Pass.”

You shrug, then say, “Your loss,” as you go about licking the spoon clean.

Once you’re done enjoying the fruits of your frosting labor, you toss the spoon in your kitchen sink and put away the ingredients for the frosting. You cast an eye to the little clock you keep in your kitchen, do the math of how much time the cookies have left in the oven, then turn the clock to face your living room before you go and join Lin on the couch. You sit next to her, close enough that your thighs are touching, and rest your chin on her shoulder. “How is it?”

“Not bad,” she answers as she shifts closer to you. She taps one of the pages of her book –a whodunit thriller you’d managed to talk her into picking up.  “Some of the dialogue is a little stiff; it reads like the author wasn’t confident in writing the character interactions. But the plot pacing thus far is solid. And the process they’re using in the investigation work is actually decent.”

You chuckle, then turn your head and kiss her scarred cheek. “You sure you didn’t miss your calling as a literary critic?”

“Right,” she snorts. “I’ll pass.”

“Really? I always took you as the opinionated type.”

She arches one eyebrow at you, then smirks when you start giggling. “Doesn’t mean I like sharing them with everybody.”

“You’re sharing them with me.”

She adjusts her hold on the book so she can hold it open with one hand, then takes one of your hands with her free hand and interlocks your fingers. “You’re the exception.”

You beam. You feel like a firecat in a sunbeam, practically warmed from the inside out. You lay your cheek against her shoulder –then blink when you feel how much tension Lin’s holding in her body. Damn.

Lin remains silent, gaze still trained on her book, as you start gently prodding at her neck and shoulders. When you graduated to full blown palpating, however, she chuckles softly and glances over at you. “Something wrong?”

You state the obvious. “You’re super tense.” You continue gently squeezing and prodding at her, then note how she tenses further when a gust of wind blows more rain against your windows. “You can’t feel too comfortable right now.”

Lin grunts, apathetic. “It is what it is.”

You frown softly as you gently rub the back of her neck with your thumb. “Do you want me to rub your shoulders and neck?”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Lin grumbles. “You’re not on the clock; I’m not your patient.”

“We’re girlfriends. We’re supposed to take care of each other.” When her jaw tightens, you take your hand off her neck. “If you don’t want–”

“No, no.” Lin sighs, then lets the book fold shut with a muted thump. She closes her eyes, then pinches the bridge of her nose. “No –sorry. I’m just…”

“It’s alright,” you murmur when her voice trails off.

“I don’t… I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not, Lin. I offered.” You brush some of her hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear (which makes her flush adorably, and if this was a different situation you’d stop just to appreciate the warmth in her cheeks). “If you don’t want me to, I won’t –and you won’t hurt my feelings if that’s the case. But, if you think it’d help you feel better, I’m happy to do it.”

She doesn’t answer for a few long moments. But, eventually, she sighs and sets her book on your coffee table. “I think it would, yeah. Thank you.”

“Alright.” You gently kiss her scarred cheek –and your heart warms when she smiles and softens ever so slightly–then stand. “Let me get some massage oil.”

“You keep some here?”

“Well, yeah,” you call over your shoulder as you head to your bathroom. “You keep your armor in your apartment, yeah? You bring home paperwork, reports, that kind of stuff.”

“Just seems different.”

You let out an understanding chuckle as you emerge from your bathroom with a bottle of unscented massage oil in hand. “Well, I keep some on hand for my own use. The rest of it is for on-call work.”

Lin’s brows furrow –but then her expression clears and her eyes widen with recollection. “The hospital work. You mentioned working on surgery teams.”

“Exactly.” 

“I wouldn’t think you’d need massage oil for that.”

“You’re right; I don’t,” you laugh. “But I work on-call for recovery teams, too. Post op and inpatient care and recovery, that sort of thing.” You gently shake the bottle in your hand. “Massage oil does tend to make that easier.” You grin when she smirks, then motion for her to shift forward on the couch so you can sit behind her. Before you sit, though, you cock your head to the side and regard her for a moment. “You might want to take your shirt off. I don’t want it to get stained from the oil.”

Lin smirks and begins unbuttoning the front of her shirt. “Right. That’s your only reason.”

You wink at her. “Plead the fifth.”

Once her shirt’s off, you get settled behind her, with one leg on either side of her. You pour a little of the massage oil on your fingertips, then tuck the bottle between the couch cushion and the arm of the couch before rubbing your hands together. “Alright, just lean back. Don’t worry about crushing me. Just relax as best as you can.”

Lin stays still as you start rubbing her shoulders. The room goes quiet, save for the music humming from your radio, the barely audible din of the storm outside, and the slight, slick noises of your oiled hands on her skin.

You’re so focused on tending to her tense muscles –on trying to get her to relax, dammit–that you nearly jump when she speaks again.

“I’m not good at this.”

Your hands still against the back of her neck. You blink a few times, trying to get your brain to shift out of “work mode” and onto what she’s saying. “You’re doing just fine.”

“No.” Lin sighs, heavy and ragged. She raises one hand, then lets it drop back against the couch. “No, I mean… this.” She swallows, neck flexing minutely under your touch. “Letting… letting someone else help.”

You hum in acknowledgement and resume massaging her tense muscles. “Believe it or not, I see that a lot. It’s…” You let your voice trail off, mulling over your countless experiences with clients, then let out a soft laugh. “It’s almost like we’ve got this ingrained instinct, as a species, to not ask too much of others. It’s like… it’s like this collective fear of being a burden.”

Lin gives a small nod, then lets out a breath when you hit a good spot by her shoulder blades. “Maybe.” She softens against you incrementally, relaxing into your touch, then lets out a dry, sardonic huff. “I don’t know. I’ve seen a lot of entitled people in my day.”

“Outside of politics, then,” you agree, grinning, which gets another chuckle from her. “But I think, with things like this –with healing–we get shy about letting others help. I had one patient tell me that she’d avoided seeking treatment for years because she didn’t want me to hurt myself taking care of her. It was like she was projecting her experience with her pain onto others. That she thought if they helped her, they’d experience her pain and discomfort just as intensely as she did.”

“Yeah,” Lin agrees, voice barely above a whisper. She swallows again, then curls her hands into fists, flexing her knuckles. She cracks her knuckles, then says, louder, “But it’s not like this” –she gestures vaguely to you– “makes any of it stop. No offense.”

“None taken,” you assure her quietly. You watch her for a moment, then put your hands on her shoulders. “Take a deep breath for me. Nice and slow, in through the nose, and out through the mouth.” You breathe with her, then start massaging her neck when her body relaxes again. “Good job.” You stay quiet for a few moments, just so that she keeps relaxing, then murmur, “I understand what you’re saying… but I’m not entirely sure you’re looking at this the right way.”

It takes a few moments before she responds. “How so?”

“Not all healing is about making the ‘whatever it is’ go away, y’know?” You dig your thumbs into the muscles by her shoulder blades, then let out a little laugh when she groans in the back of your throat. “Is that good?” You smile when she nods, then keep going. “Some of my patients, I’m not treating them to make their condition go away. I’m treating them to manage their pain and give them a better quality of life. Some of them have life long conditions that they’ve been dealing with for years, and some of them have sustained injuries or illness and they’re just starting to learn how to accommodate those changes. It sucks, and it’s hard–”

“I think I get what you’re aiming at,” Lin interjects, voice warm with humor.

You chuckle. “But it’s worth it,” you finish. “It’s okay to feel good, even if everything doesn’t go completely away.”

“Thanks, Doc,” she quips dryly.

You roll your eyes, bemused, then lean forward and kiss the spot behind her ear. “And I’m glad I can help, even if it’s just a little bit.”

Lin goes still. Then, she shifts forward, turns, and kisses you softly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you murmur against her lips before kissing her again.

She kisses you a little longer, even reaching up to cup the back of your neck, but eventually pulls away. “Do you need to check the oven?”

“I should, yeah,” you say after glancing at the clock. You stand when Lin moves out of your way, then say, “Let me get a towel for you, first.”

Once you’ve supplied her with a towel so she can wipe the oil off her skin, you wash and dry your hands at the kitchen sink before checking the oven. “Looks like the cookies are done.”

“They smell good,” Lin says as you set your baking trays on the stovetop. “Are you going to ice them?”

“They need to cool first. Otherwise, the icing runs right off.”

Lin “hmms” as she pulls her shirt back on –then pauses when she notices what you’re setting up on the counter. “What are those?”

“Oh, these?” You hold up a pair of delicate wooden cooling racks; the criss-crossing, spindly beams form a lattice-like structure in the center of the racks and slot neatly into the frame. “They’re cooling racks. My dad made them for me.”

Lin frowns and stands as she finishes buttoning her shirt. “Those look like they’re made out of wood. How’d he get them to stay together?”

“I think it’s all one piece.” You hand one off to her so she can inspect it, while you prop the other up on your counter and start placing cookies on the racks. “Obviously, in the North, cooling things off isn’t an issue–”

“I can imagine.”

You grin, then use the tips of your fingers to slide another cookie onto the cooling rack. “He was worried when I came here that I wouldn’t be able to get my baking to cool properly, since it’s so much warmer here. He sent these six months after I moved.”

“That was sweet of him.” Lin hands the other cooling rack back to you. “And it’s excellent craftsmanship.”

“He does some carpentry work,” you explain. “Once import trade opened to the water tribes again, he left in his twenties to study woodworking. He does a lot of work with luxury wooden items. A lot of bone inlay work, too.”

Lin’s eyebrows pitch upwards. “I wouldn’t think of wood as a luxury item.”

You flash her a crooked grin. “It is if you live somewhere where trees don’t grow.” You finish placing the cookies on the cooling racks, then set the bowl of icing next to the wooden racks. “We’ll give these a few minutes to cool, first.” You look up at Lin –who’s eyeing the cookies with mild curiosity–then surreptitiously reach out to the icing bowl and dip the tip of your index finger in.

Lin, of course, catches you before you can really do anything. She dodges when you try to swipe your icing-covered finger across her face, then catches your hand and traps you between the counter and herself. She narrows her eyes at you –but she’s smirking all the same. “Really?”

“Sorry,” you say without feeling sorry at all. You offer her a bright, impish smile. “Would you like a taste?”

“I don’t taste through my skin,” she fires back, tone sarcastic.

“Hey! For all you know, I was aiming for your mouth.”

Lin gives you a flat, unconvinced look. The corner of her mouth turns up when you giggle –and then she lifts your hand towards her mouth.

You suck in a soft breath. You can feel your heart thudding in your chest. You lick your lips as anticipation coils in your body–

And then Lin shoves your hand towards your face, forcing you to smear the frosting over your nose.

“Hey!” You let out a startled squawk, then laugh and wrench yourself free of her grasp. “You bitch! No fair!”

Lin smirks and shrugs. “Seemed fair to me.” She wipes her thumb along the edge of the icing bowl, then licks it clean. “Tastes good.”

You feign hurt, huffing as she returns to the couch, then reach for a towel so you can wipe your face clean. “I’m going to get you for that, Beifong.”

“I’m quaking in utter terror,” she quips back flatly.

By the time you’ve licked your “wounded” ego, the cookies have cooled off. You frost all of them, then put six on a plate and carry it into the living room, along with two cups of tea.

“They’re good,” Lin decides after taking a bite and swallowing. “They’re not so sickly sweet.”

“Eh, I like a good sugar-y cookie.” You grin when she rolls her eyes and mutters something to the effect of “of course you do,” then nod in agreement. “But these are good. Very appropriate for fall.”

She nods along, then sets her cookie on the edge of the plate. She takes your hand and squeezes gently. “I should thank you,” she says once you’ve looked over at her. “For everything you’ve done today.”

You blink, then wave your free hand dismissively. “Lin, you don’t–”

“I want to,” she insists, voice quiet but firm. She spares a glance at the window –it’s still raining, but not as hard as earlier–then swallows hard and looks back at you. “You made today easier. Thank you.”

You smile, soft and sweet, then lift your joined hands and kiss her knuckles. “Anytime, Lin. All you have to do is ask.”

She stares at you for a long moment, expression intense but otherwise inscrutable. Then, she drops your gaze and returns the gesture by placing a soft, lingering kiss against your knuckles.

It keeps raining. A news update around four informs you that the city shouldn’t expect the weather front to pass until later tonight, around ten.

So the two of you stay indoors. You sit on the couch, eat the cookies you made, read the books you got earlier, and listen to music on the radio.

[virescent-v]

Bars & Bets

A/N: A bar, a bet, and one night of absolute debauchery.

Emily Prentiss x reader (includes y/n). 18+ ONLY. Warnings: use of pet names, graphic detail of sex, some dom/sub themes, use of restraints.

Word Count: 5,798

You could feel the bass of the club music rushing through your chest, your heart galloping to speed up to match the pace. There was something so electrifying about being surrounded by people of all types, dancing, having a good time. You didn’t need to know their stories, hell, even their names, to have a good time. 

After the week you’ve had, all you want is a stiff drink (or four) and to let loose. If you found someone to spend a few songs with, or even the night with, that was fine by you. But it wasn’t what you were worried about looking for. 

Making your way to the overcrowded bar, you pulled on the hem of the little red dress you were wearing. It was shorter than you were used to wearing, but you couldn’t deny how sexy it made you feel. It showcased your strong thighs and made your legs look like they went on for days. Matched with the high heels you were wearing, your makeup a tad darker and smokier than normal, you knew you were going to turn heads tonight. Men and women.��

While you appreciated the hungry gaze of men, the way their eyes would travel over you, hopeful glints in their eyes that they would be the lucky one to take you home, you had no interest. It was the lustful gaze of women, the softness of their skin, the sounds you could pull from their throats, that made you a needy mess. 

Flagging down the bartender, you ordered a simple vodka cran. Easy enough to sip on while your eyes peered around the bar. While there were a few hopeful men looking at you, none of them caught your gaze enough to consider entertaining them for a free drink. As your eyes traveled back to the other end of the bar, you noticed you were being stared at by two people, together. 

One was tall, dark, and handsome. His eyes traveled over you, stopping to linger on your chest. You could tell he was the type to go after a woman, be incredibly charming, get her back to her place, and be gone before she woke up. Likely to never be heard from again. You could see other women in the bar mustering up the courage to even go talk to him, but he was staring at you. And while that was a nice thought, you were more interested in the stunning brunette beside him. 

She was breathtaking. Dark hair and even darker eyes. A killer smile. Slightly taller than you, but still fairly petite. She had this air about her that screamed ‘dominant.’ While her stance was confident, you could tell that she wasn’t really in her element in this place. She was more of a dive-bar, dimly lit, pool tables and beer kind of girl. She was wearing black pants that were incredibly tight and a white blouse, unbuttoned enough that you could see the edge of a lacy black bra peeking through. 

You could tell the two of them were friends. There wasn’t much exaggerated chemistry between them. While the man was staring at you, the woman kept glancing at you, but was talking to him. It seemed like she was egging him on, almost as if it was a dare. You couldn’t wait for him to make his way to you. Hopefully you could get a free drink out of him before you crushed his hopes of taking you home. 

Finishing your first drink, you turned back to the bar, flagging down the bartender. 

“How about I buy you your next drink, baby girl?” 

You smiled to yourself before schooling your features and turning around to face him. Bingo. 

You looked up at the man that you had seen staring at you from across the bar. A bright smile on his face. You could see how women wanted him. “That would be nice, thanks. I’m y/n,” you said, reaching out for his hand. 

“Derek. Nice to meet you, beautiful.” 

His hand was warm, but you felt nothing. You decided to have a little more fun with him before sending him on his way. “So, Derek, who’s the girl over there that was betting you to come over here?” 

His laugh was deep, barely audible over the loud music of the bar. He gestured back over to the woman in question. You caught her eyes, smiling as she blushed a bit, as if she knew you two were talking about her. “That’s Emily. She’s just a friend from work. She didn’t want to come out  alone tonight.” 

You turned back to Derek. “So, you came over here and left her alone? Not a very good wingman if you ask me,” you said, eyebrow raised. 

Derek raised his hands a little. “She can take care of herself.” 

You glanced back over to the beautiful brunette. “I’m sure she can,” you mumbled. 

You turned back to Derek as you felt his hand settle on your hip. “So, baby girl, how about a dance?” 

You almost felt bad for what you were about to do. Almost. 

“Derek, while a dance sounds lovely, I’m actually not interested.” You said, removing his hand from where it was starting to caress your side. 

His eyebrows scrunched up adorably. He looked utterly confused, as if he wasn’t used to women avoiding and denying his advances. 

You looked at him, giving him a little smile as you said, “While I enjoy your company, Derek, I am far more interested in that beautiful coworker of yours, if you catch my drift. Plus, there is a stunning blonde on the other side of the bar that has been staring daggers into my head since you walked over here. I think she might be the better option for you tonight.” 

Derek laughed loudly, his head thrown back a little. “Fair enough, y/n. It was nice meeting you. And tell Emily I owe her twenty bucks.” 

“I will,” you laughed. “Have a great night, Derek.” 

“You too, y/n. Take care of her, yeah? It’s been a rough week.” 

You raised your glass to him, sauntering over to where he’d left Emily. She was sitting at a table, watching you with curious eyes as you approached. She hadn’t moved from her spot and no one had joined her. For that, you were thankful. 

“Derek says he owes you twenty dollars,” you said with a smile. “I’m y/n.” 

Her face immediately lit up with a smile as she tossed her hair back from her face with a laugh. Now that laugh, it did something to you. But nothing like her voice did. “I love betting against him. I hardly ever lose,” she said. Her voice was deep enough to send chills down your spine.

You took a sip of your drink, your curiosity getting the best of you. “And what was this bet I was seemingly a part of?” 

Emily smirked at you, looking you up and down a little. You felt your cheeks heat up a little under the scrutiny. “I bet him that he couldn’t get you to dance with him. That you would turn him down in under five minutes. I was right.” 

You laughed, not surprised that she was able to read you so well. Something about her told you that she was great at reading people, just like you were. “That’s a good bet. If you had only bet that I would much prefer your company than his, you could’ve doubled your win,” you said, letting your eyes travel down her body, lingering on her chest, before sliding down to her pants, which you could now tell were leather. You licked your lips. You wanted to touch, slide your hands up them. 

When you looked back up, Emily was looking at you with a mix of awe and lust. Like she didn’t think you’d be so forward. It made you giddy with the anticipation of what could happen tonight, if she was willing. You were curious to see if she was as dominant as you thought she’d be, or if she’d surprise you and let you take control for the night. 

“Do you want to dance with me, y/n?” 

You smiled as you finished off your drink. “After you, Emily.” 

She grabbed your hand and led you out onto the dance floor, pulling you into the sea of people already out there pulsating and sweaty to the thick beats of the music. You started off facing her, your arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders, moving your hips to the music. You could feel how tense she was, as if she’d never really danced with another woman at a club before. Leaning in, you whispered in her ear, “Relax for me, Emily. Feel the music, feel me, and let go.” 

Emily’s hands shot up to your hips, feeling them sway left and right. Eventually, she started to move with you, her movements a little choppy at first. You grinned at her, pulling her closer to you, essentially forcing her hips to move with and against yours. You could feel the goosebumps erupt over her skin at your proximity. As the song progressed, you could feel Emily start to fully relax into the music, letting her body lead you both in a dance that was leaving you breathless. 

As the song transitioned from one with a heavy bass line to one with much sexier r-n-b vibe, Emily leaned in close to you and said, “turn around,” with such a note of authority that you didn’t imagine saying no. 

Once you turned around, Emily grabbed your hips and pulled you back into her. Your ass nestled tightly against her front, your back pressed against her chest. You could feel her hardened nipples through both layers of your clothing. Your chest started heaving. You knew she was dominant and you were excited to see more of her controlling side. 

You started moving your hips, whining and grinding against the solid body behind you. Your one hand gripped Emily’s thigh behind you, pulling her impossibly closer to you. You could feel her  breath on your neck, it sending shivers down your spine. You let out an inaudible gasp as Emily leaned closer and started kissing her way up your neck, stopping to whisper in your ear, loud enough to be heard over the music. “Such a tease, wearing such a short dress. Tell me, y/n, are you even wearing anything underneath it?” 

Your head leaned back against the strong shoulder behind you. Emily’s one hand remained on your hips, forcing you to keep up with the music, while the other started to roam. Thankfully, with how packed the club was, no one was really paying attention as her hand ghosted over your chest. You moaned out loud when her hand constricted around your throat. “Answer me, pretty girl.” 

From where your head was leaned back against her shoulder, you just turned it to the side to whisper in her ear. If she wanted to tease, you could, too. “No, Em. No panties. You would’ve ruined them by now anyways.” 

Emily quickly turned you around to face her, an almost evil glint in her eyes, her tongue wetting her lips. Her hand came back up to your face, running her thumb across your lips. Emily’s breath caught in her throat as you intensely connected your eyes, sucking her thumb into your mouth, running your tongue around it. Emily moved her hand back down to your throat, squeezing gently, while looking at you. “Naughty girl, going commando under this dress. What if someone sees what is so clearly mine?” 

You looked at Emily faux-innocently, batting your eyelashes. “Well, maybe, you should take me home and prove it is yours, then.” 

Emily smirked at you, before turning you back around in her arms. She forced your stance a little wider, thrusting one of her legs between yours. You could feel the heat of her leg pressed up against your uncovered pussy, knowing you were leaving a trail of juices on the leather of her thigh. It made you whimper as you started to grind against her. 

“Or, y/n, how about I make you so wet, so needy, right here in the middle of this dance floor, that you’re begging for me to take you here in front of all of these people?” 

You grinded down harder against her thigh, your movements sped up to match the pace of the beat of the music and the thumping of your pulse. If that’s what Emily was intending to do, you knew it wasn’t going to be long before you brought truth to what she said. 

Emily’s hands started trailing lightly across your body, the pressure never enough to satisfy, only to leave you wanting. When her hands gripped your hips and forced you down harder on her thigh, you couldn’t help the salacious moan that left your mouth. You could feel the dark chuckle Emily let out even if you couldn’t hear it. “Such a greedy little slut. Rubbing yourself against me in a room full of people. I bet you want them all to watch you come undone against me.” 

Oh, god. You didn’t have an exhibitionist bone in your body, but the thought of other people watching you as you came apart at Emily’s hands was enough to make your arousal pound throughout your body. 

This time, you did hear Emily laugh. “I knew it. Such a whore. Too bad no one will watch you come except for me, understood?” Emily growled at you. 

“Yes, ma’am, I understand,” you panted, trying to turn around to catch her lips. 

Except Emily had such a grip on your hips it was impossible to turn around. All you wanted right now was to kiss her, have her smother your moans with her lips.

“Em, kiss me, please,” you said, still trying to catch her in a kiss. 

She laughed against your neck, her lips slowly grazing over the sensitive skin there. “That’s what I’m doing, pretty girl.” 

You let out a frustrated groan, “that’s not what I mean and you know it.” 

“I know, baby. But be a good girl for me and keep dancing against me,” Emily said, as she pulled you tighter against her. 

Every sense of yours seemed to be heightened. You could feel the music in your chest, you could smell Emily’s perfume, feel her hands gripping tightly to you, feel the whisper of her breath on the skin of your neck. All of it was beginning to be almost too much. You could feel yourself getting wetter as each moment passed. All you wanted was for Emily to kiss you, take you home, and then take you. 

You were hardly able to get any friction from grinding against Emily’s leg, her pants being coated in your essence. You tried to grind down harder, faster, anything to get you some relief, but nothing was working. 

As if she could feel your frustration rising, Emily finally turned you around towards her, breaking the contact between you and her leg. “You look so pretty when you’re desperate, y/n,” she said, winding a hand into the hair at the base of your neck, pulling your faces closer together. Her breath was hot against yours, both of you worked up, your panting almost matching the thumping of your racing pulse. 

“Emily, please-” you started. 

Before you could finish begging, Emily crashed your lips together. The kiss was sloppy, teeth and tongues crashing against each other. You only pulled away once you needed some air. “Take me home, now, Emily. Please.” You didn’t care about pleading anymore. You just needed her to touch you. Make you come. However she wanted to, it didn’t matter, as long as you got to. 

Wordlessly, Emily grabbed your hand, dragging you from the bar. Before you made it out of the club, you caught a teasing glint from Derek. He raised his glass to you in a silent cheers as Emily pulled you through the door. 

—-- 

The ride back to Emily’s apartment was littered with tantalizing touches. She kept it pretty tame, all things considered, as not to alert the driver. But, with how worked up you’d been at the club, every little touch drove you closer and closer to insanity. 

Emily had snuggled up close to your side, her breath hot and provoking at your ear. She kept whispering indecencies as her hand started teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You subtly thrusted your hips forward, trying to get her fingers closer to your core. 

“Tsk, tsk. Trying to get my fingers to touch your needy cunt in this cab? Such a bad girl, y/n,” Emily whispered. 

You had to catch the moan in your throat otherwise the driver would’ve definitely known what was happening in his backseat. You looked at Emily, a knowing, sinful grin on her face. It made you needier. “Please, Emily,” you whispered back, thrusting your hips more aggressively towards her fingers. She was right there. 

Emily growled, her grip on your thigh almost bruising. “No. Now stop before I have to remind you who’s in control tonight.” 

While you knew it would probably end in punishment, you couldn’t take the build up of pressure anymore. Your own hand started to travel down, teasing the skin on the opposite thigh that Emily had a grip on. The combination of slight pain and enticement of your feather light touch  was enough to force your hips to move again of their own volition. Your hand had just creeped under the edge of your dress before Emily grabbed your wrist in a forceful grasp, making you wince in pain. 

“I said no, y/n. You’ll pay for that when we get back to my place.” The look in Emily’s eye was dangerous, but you couldn’t help but be even more turned on. You were sure your juices were staining your dress at this point. 

When the cab pulled up to Emily’s, she almost pushed you out of the car. Grabbing your hand, she pulled you up the stairs and into her apartment, slamming the door behind her. Emily shoved you into the wall beside the entrance way, gripping your throat in her hands. While it was a little rough, it wasn’t anything you didn’t want, didn’t need. 

“Such a desperate, needy whore you were being during the cab ride. For that, you’ve just earned yourself a spanking, little one. Come with me,” she said, pulling you with her toward her bedroom. 

She stood at the end of her king size bed and turned to face you. “On your knees, princess.” 

You walked up to her before slowly lowering yourself to the floor, head angled down, palms up on your thighs. You decided not to try your luck tonight. You’d be Emily’s good girl by the end of the night, no matter what it took. 

Emily gripped your chin, tilting your face up to look at her. “You look so pretty on your knees for me, princess. You gonna be my good girl tonight?” She asked, thumb rubbing across your cheek. 

Your face heated up with a little blush from the way that she was looking at you. Like you were her favorite possession. You hadn’t known her long, but you were lucky your eyes met in that club tonight. You nodded before softly saying, “yes, ma’am. I want to be good for you.” 

Emily smiled so genuinely that you couldn’t help but smile back at her. It didn’t last long, however, once she gripped your hair in her fist tightly. She brought your face close to her leg, the one you had been grinding on at the club. “Look at my pants, y/n. Look how messy you’ve made them,” she tsked, sounding utterly disappointed. 

Looking up at her from your position on the floor, you couldn’t help but whimper at the look on her face. Emily was in control. She owned you. “What can I do to make it up to you, ma’am?” 

She smirked at you, for just a second, before bringing your face closer to her thigh. “Lick. Them. Clean.” 

The moan you let out was filthy. You quickly stuck out your tongue, not wanting to displease her. At the first contact, you could taste yourself. You knew you were wet at the bar, but you hadn’t realized it was so intense. Your tongue swirled around her thigh, licking up every leftover trace of you. The hand that had lifted your chin was now tangled in your hair, guiding your face around her thigh. She only pulled your head back once her leather pants were glossy with your saliva. “Stand up, pretty girl.” 

Emily helped pull you up from the floor, which you gave her a grateful smile for, since the hardwood left your knees a little aching. “Turn around.” 

Once you had, you felt Emily’s hands brush your hair to one side. Her lips ghosted over the back of your neck as she started to slowly pull down the zipper of your dress. With each click of the metal zip, her lips would brush your skin down your back. It was making you needy in a different kind of way. You could feel the affection of her kisses on your overheated skin. It made you wonder if Emily was a romantic as much as she was a domme. 

Once the zipper was completely undone, Emily pushed each side off your shoulders, letting the dress hit the floor. She turned you back around, taking in your completely nude form. The dress was too tight and too revealing to wear any sort of undergarments. 

Emily’s eyes traversed slowly across all of your exposed skin, taking longer to linger at your ample chest, the swell of your stomach, and the light curls between your legs. It was such a heavy gaze, you could feel the hunger in it, a fire spreading across your nerve endings. You weren’t sure what Emily was planning to do to you, but as long as you got to come, you really didn’t care. 

Making eye contact with you, Emily stripped off her own pants and shirt. She sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing at her lap. “Bend over, y/n. It’s time I make good on that spanking.” 

You took in a shuddering breath as you felt yourself grow wetter in anticipation. Laying yourself over her lap, you flicked your hair to one side, looking back over your shoulder at her. Emily’s heavy gaze was zoned into your tight ass. Her hands started to grip and pull at your cheeks, getting used to the feel of you in her hands. She glanced quickly at you, “Count them. If you stop or miscount, we start over.” 

You weren’t expecting the first smack against your ass to be so hard. You felt the ripple of your skin and knew that if she kept that pressure, you were going to have trouble sitting tomorrow. Lost in your own thoughts, you felt the next smack come down on your other cheek. “Looks like you just want more, don’t you, y/n?” Emily asked, smacking you hard on the same cheek she’d just hit.

“Shit,” you hissed. “One!” 

You could hear the devilish grin on Emily’s mouth. “Good job, princess.” 

You almost rolled your eyes at how arrogant she sounded. Before you could fire back, a swift slap against the bottom of your left cheek, close to your inner thigh reverberated throughout the room. “Two,” you groaned. 

The pain was intense, almost pushing the edge of being too much. You wiggled your hips a little on Emily’s lap, trying to rid yourself of some of the sting. Before you could really get too much relief, you felt a finger at your core. 

“Jesus, you’re so wet, baby.” Emily said, starting to play with your dripping juices. She rubbed her finger up and down, gathering your essence from your opening, spreading it around your lower lips, stopping only briefly to rub at your clit. The pressure was more playful than anything, not enough to get you off, but it was still welcomed. “Just a few more, sweetheart. Then I’ll make you come so hard you forget your own name,” Emily said. She pulled her hand away from your cunt, using that one to strike you again. The slickness of her finger adding to the sting against you. 

“Three,” you panted. You really hoped she was done at five. 

The next slap came down hard on the spot she’d already hit, the pain slicing through you quickly. You could only imagine how red your ass looked. “Four!” Your voice starting to turn hoarse from screaming. 

The last slap caught you the most off guard. Instead of striking you against the skin of your ass, Emily’s hand had mostly made contact with your sopping pussy lips. That one made you mostly moan out of arousal rather than pain. “Five, ma’am. Thank you.”

Emily used both hands to rub against your ass, massaging the reddened skin. “Good girl, taking those spanks so well.” She gripped both of your cheeks in her hands. “Your ass looks so good, pretty and red with my hand prints,” she whispered, admiring her own handy work. 

Emily helped pull you up, settling you down against her sheets, you wincing a little at how tender your backside was. Emily caught it. “You okay, y/n?” She looked a little concerned, which you didn’t want. 

“I’m good, Em,” you cleared your hoarse throat. “More than okay. I’ll let you know if it’s too much.” 

Emily smiled at you, before disappearing off the bed and into her closet. She returned with a shoe box of what you could only assume was fun things. 

Emily first pulled out a satin sleep mask, holding it up for your perusal. At your slight nod, she placed it over your eyes, rendering you unable to see. “If, at any point, you do not like what I am doing, I want you to safeword out. What do you want to use for your safeword?” 

You took a deep breath, licking your lips. “I use the stoplight method to check in, but ‘vanilla’ is my hard stop, ma’am.” 

“Good. If, at any point, you want to stop, you say vanilla or red or tap me anywhere on my body three times and I will stop. There will be no punishments for stopping or using your safeword. Understand?” Emily asked. 

You appreciated the check in. It wasn’t needed; you knew you could just say ‘stop’ and she would. Even with only knowing Emily for a few hours, you trusted her. “I understand. If I want to stop, I say vanilla, red, or tap you three times.” 

“Good girl.” 

Emily lifted your hands above your head, fastening them to the headboard with something soft, likely padded cuffs from what you could tell. 

Once she made sure they were secure, you could hear the snapping of a closure or bottle of some sort. Shortly after, you could smell something minty. Before you could question her, you felt Emily’s hands on your body, starting at your shoulders and quickly moving downwards to your breasts. “Peppermint oil, princess. Relax.” 

You could feel your body loosen with each pass of her hands over you. With your eyesight being taken from you, it felt like all of your senses were heightened. The smell of the oil was strong, but not overpowering. Mint was one of your favorite smells. It also forced your mind into overdrive, trying to figure out where Emily’s hands would end up next, what they would be doing to you also being a mystery. 

As Emily’s hands slid over your breasts, you released a lung full of air. You’d never been so turned on from such a simple massage before. “Please, Em,” you said, wiggling your hips a little, trying to get some traction between your thighs. 

“Patience, baby. I’ll get you there, don’t worry,” she said. 

You almost groaned in frustration. You knew Emily would be good on her word, but you wanted to come now. 

When you felt her hands leave your body, you could hear her shuffling around in the box she’d brought out with her. 

“You can come when you want to, princess. But once you start, you’re not stopping until I say so,” Emily said, immediately putting the wand against your clit and turning it on. 

You had to stop yourself from screaming at the vibration on your oversensitive clit. She hadn’t even really touched you yet, but Emily knew how to play your body so well. She made sure to never keep the pressure in one spot for too long, finding entertainment in watching the way your hips gyrated to get the vibrator right where you wanted it. 

You could feel your wetness seeping out of you, pooling onto the sheets below you. You hadn’t been this keyed up in so long. “Please, ma’am, please touch my clit,” you begged, trying to press down harder on the vibrator. 

“Hm, you’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me, baby.” 

Your next words got choked on a grunt as Emily finally put the vibrator against you, turning the speed setting up a notch. Your head rolled back against the pillows as you thrusted your hips down, increasing the pressure. You knew with just one more second, you were going to come. 

But you weren’t so lucky. Right before your body had a chance to contract and let go, Emily removed the vibrator. 

The whimper that left your throat was embarrassing to even your own ears. You have never been so ready, so desperate, to come for someone before. You could feel the tears of frustration welling in your eyes. 

“Aw, princess, don’t pout. Edging always makes the orgasms that much sweeter…that much stronger,” Emily said, rubbing the outside of your thigh, hoping to ease the discomfort of your missed finish. Her hands traveled lightly over your skin, keeping you worked up, but settling the fire within you just a little. 

As Emily’s hands made contact with your breasts, squeezing, pinching, and rolling your nipples between her fingers, her mouth made contact with yours. The kiss was slow, gentle almost, but sinful enough to make you see stars. Emily kissed you intensely, her tongue making passes against yours; she tasted like her drink from the bar and something else, something her, that drove you wild. 

After kissing you breathless, Emily trailed one of her hands down, lightly circling your clit causing your hips to jump. She did not linger at your swollen bud long before moving down to your pussy, thrusting two fingers inside quickly. 

“Fuck, Emily,” you moaned. 

“I love hearing my name from that mouth of yours, pretty girl. Make sure to say it when you come for me.” 

The pace she set was just what you needed; fast, hard, and deep. She was scissoring her fingers back and forth making you stretch to fit her. Within a few strokes, she found that special spot inside of you that had your back arching off of the bed and pulling at your restraints. 

“Hm,” Emily chuckled. “You’re going to come so hard for me, princess.” 

Your mouth opened as if to moan, but your voice wasn’t working. You could only focus on the feel of Emily inside, thrusting, twisting, and stretching you open. With each brush of her fingers against your g-spot, you could feel the pressure tightening, threatening to snap. “Ugh, Em,” you panted, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Like you couldn’t get enough air. 

“I know. You’re almost there. It’s going to be so good, baby.” 

With the click of the vibrator, the incredible fucking Emily was doing, and the fact that you just needed to come so badly, you almost lost it right then. 

“Aw, honey. You’re so close, aren’t you? You gonna come for me?” Emily sweetly said, each word emphasized by a hard thrust into you. 

You couldn’t speak, opting to just aggressively nod in confirmation. You were almost there. 

“When you’re done coming, I’m going to sit on that pretty face of yours. I’m going to ride you until you make me come. Now come, y/n,” Emily growled, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit, rubbing at that sweet spot inside of you faster. 

“Emily!” 

Your back bowed so hard it felt like you were bent in half. Your legs clamped together, holding Emily in place. But that didn’t stop her from continuing to rub your g-spot inside, flicking her fingers back and forth quickly. 

“Let go, all the way. Give it all to me.” 

The pressure was all encompassing. Overwhelming. With a quick bite to the swell of your breast, you came. Hard. Fluids gushing out of you, soaking Emily’s hand, her lap, and the sheets below you. “Fuck! Emily!” 

Emily brought you down from your orgasm gently, rubbing your body to bring you down. But you were so worked up you couldn’t control the shaking. Quickly undoing your restraints and blindfold, Emily gathered you up in her arms, holding you close to her, whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ears. “Good girl, honey. You came so well for me,” she said. 

You snuggled in closer to her chest, trying to catch your breath. You don’t think you’ve ever been fucked so well before. Never had someone read your body the way Emily did. 

“Was that the first time you’ve ever-” Emily started. 

“Yes. My god, Em. I didn’t even think that was possible,” you chuckled, still breathing hard. 

You could feel Emily smile against the top of your head. “Well, it was definitely possible. I’m glad I got to be your first.” 

Hopefully you’ll be my second…and third…and last.

You paused, tensed a little. 

Whoa, where did that thought come from? 

“Y/n? You okay?” 

Of course Emily could feel your muscles contract. “Yeah, Em. Just realized I still owe you that orgasm, but I don’t think I can move,” you tried to hide behind another little giggle. 

“Oh, don’t worry, princess. You can sleep. And repay me in the morning.” 

You tilted your head up, searching for Emily’s eyes. When you caught them, you almost gasped at how much affection you saw in them. You wondered if she was having the same thoughts that you were. The genuine smile on her face made you smile back. 

“I look forward to it, ma’am,” you smirked. 

Cuddling back into her chest, you sighed with contentment. 

Thank god for bars and bets.

[angelmush]

i got a goose tattooed on the inside of my forearm today and it was a flash piece but it's my favorite tattoo already it means everything to me i could sob

[harmonictechnicality]

a little follow-up to the steddie bookstore meet cute

Steve lets the storyteller finish reading the chapter before further investigation. He does this for three different reasons: 

The chapters aren’t outrageously lengthy.

Kids get extremely cranky if someone disrupts their story time.

Steve also gets extremely cranky if someone disrupts his unapologetic staring-at-cute-boys time.

He’s worked at this bookstore for 378 days. All walks of life come through this place and he’s seen them all.

Until today.

378 days and countless hours of people-watching, but Steve Harrington has never seen someone like him.

Loud clothes to match his loud voice. Knotted hair and one untied combat boot. Inked-up arms that look deceivingly like shirt sleeves.

Steve scans over his face, counting his piercings. One lip. One nose. One eyebrow. Three in each ear.

Nine piercings and that’s just the visible ones.

But before Steve starts visualizing (fantasizing) about how many more he might have, the kids start clapping. Cheering, even. The man gives a theatrical bow and sneaks past the crowd of children - making a beeline towards Steve.

“I can explain,” the man begins sputtering, hands up defensively. “I picked the wrong chair. Perceptibly cozy. Undoubtedly hard-work.”

Steve just smirks, nodding towards the novel in his ring-clad hand. “You gonna buy that?”

“Uh yeah. I mean, yes.”

Oh, Steve is making him nervous. Huh.

“Come, on.” Steve takes the book from his grasp and motions to the cash register. “You can explain further while I check you out over there.”

Which wasn’t meant to be a line, but he’s not exactly sorry that it came out that way.

“Been looking for this specific copy for years.” The man starts fumbling through his jean pockets, while he continues to babble. “Was scouring second-hand bookstore reviews on Yelp one day and saw this place is a goldmine for rare books. Figured I’d venture out here and see for myself.”

“Glad you could find what you’re looking for,” Steve states smoothly.

“In more ways than one, I hope.” He says it under his breath and not directly to Steve, but it doesn’t matter. Steve is keyed in. He hears every word. Senses fully heightened.

“The little bookworms thought you were amazing.” Steve says while simultaneously thinking, I find you pretty amazing too.

“Yeah? Pretty cool to see kids geeking out over Bilbo Baggins.”

Despite his clumsy movements, he manages to thumb open his wallet and slides Steve a credit card. Steve takes the card and inspects the name: Eddie Munson. Lets the name resonate and marinate in his mind for a brief moment.

“So you’re just passing through then?” Which could be too forward. Steve can get away with Too Forward when picking up girls, but it’s definitely more of a gamble with guys.

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?” Steve swipes the card through, then offers it back to Eddie.

Their fingertips meet in the transfer, but Eddie’s coffee brown eyes stay fixed on Steve’s lips. 

“If there’s anything else worth exploring in this town.” 

Totally worth the gamble. 

Steve bites down on his lower lip, the one that’s become Eddie’s focal point of interest, and tosses the book into a paper bag - sliding it over the register counter.

“Thanks, Steve.” Eddie says causally. Like he’s known him personally for years.

Steve raises his eyebrows.

“Name tag! I saw your name tag.” Eddie’s expression is panicky, losing all remnants of his flirtatious tone. “Shit.”

This guy is a walking contradiction. Fully clothed like he’s preparing for an anarchist uprising, but is actually a blabbering mess. Steve Harrington is just some turtleneck wearing, floppy-haired, college dropout - yet somehow he is the one making the big bad wolf skittish.

It’s honestly adorable.

“Come back anytime, Eddie.” Steve says just as casually.

Now Eddie is the one raising his eyebrow.

“Credit card.” Steve responds. “I saw your credit card.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

There’s no reason that the conversation should continue. Steve shouldn’t waste his time pining after someone that’s just traveling through with low probability of sticking around. Hawkins is practically a ghost town at this point. Nobody ever stays, except for washed-up locals like Steve and Robin.

So he knows he shouldn’t pursue this. Steve knows better not to get involved with dead-end streets leading to eventual heartbreak. But he can’t stop himself from sneaking out his phone the second Eddie leaves the store. His thumb is hovering over the Search button when Robin snatches it from his hand.

“No cellphones during store hours.” She says, inspecting the phone screen. “Oh, come on- seriously?”

“What?” He groans.

She holds the screen in front of his face. “You’re googling him?”

“So?” Steve tries to grab the phone back, but Robin dodges his attempts.

“You’re hopeless, Harrington.” She creates a wide enough gap between them to avoid Steve from taking the phone. “But as your best friend, I am legally obligated to cyberstalk any of your potential love interests.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “And what law says that?”

“The law of every rom-com movie ever made, dingus.” 

Robin taps the screen and begins scrolling, examining the search results. After a few seconds, her mouth drops open.

“No way,” Robin squeals, scrolling faster now. “No fucking way.”

“What’d you find?” Steve rushes behind her, peering over Robin’s shoulder to get a better view. 

“Look.” Robin pinches the glass screen to enlarge the article she’s discovered.

Steve slides on his burgundy reading glasses, lets his eyes adjust to the phone’s brightness. 

And he sees it. The bold letters. The key word. “Eddie hosts a podcast?”

Robin nods. “Not just any podcast.” 

She flips to the bottom of the news article and there’s an image of Eddie. He’s standing in front of a Victorian-style mansion, which Steve recognizes immediately. The Winchester Mystery House. Maybe one of the most famous haunted houses in the United States.

“Holy shit,” Steve blurts out as it finally clicks in his brain. “Eddie hosts a ghost-hunting podcast?”

[nullusreimorio]

Friendship ended with Eli Clark, Norton Campbell is my new best friend

[sumireviku]

this palette is fun and perfectly encapsulates the bloody stick figure chomping feelings i have for bad ending. unfortunately i am not nearly that serious about anything on this blog and could not commit to it 😔

[colgatebluemintygel]

/slides over crumpled $10 bill

what were your original, meaner plans for r/s in oao? (if it's spoilery, you can respond to this after you publish the whole thing, i'm just soooo curious)

there are some points that i cannot divulge bc they are still spoilery but the tldr version is: sirius fucked benjy 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

[berryesque]

Quick Nanako color from last night

[angeltism]

giggling oh my god I love my appearance so much

[hellcheerficdatabase]

Dungeons & Dragons & Pining

Author: @chrissyslipgloss

Rating/Warning: Teen and up audience

Chapter Count: 1/1

Description: Eddie confesses his feelings for Chrissy the only way he knows how: D&D

Tags: Alternate Universe- no vecna, fluff, Eddie is V nervous, it's just so cute and fluffy, love confessions, pining, Eddie POV, one-shot, Status: Completed

[hellflcmes]

@sinners-inc gets a starter for Doyoung!

"Alright, it's up."

Letting himself drop to the floor with a grunt, Enji stood up and pressed down on the hanging bed. After Do had mentioned how she wanted in the sunroom, he had gone out and ordered her one. One that could hold his weight in addition to her own. Setting it up wasn't that hard either. Not when he could easily move around the rafters of the ceiling and not have to worry about a ladder.

He looked between the bed and her for a moment. Without saying anything, he simply picked her up and set her on the bed. Standing back a bit, but still within arm's reach for her, Enji placed his hands on his hips as he admired his work.

"Well? Do you like it?" He hoped it was a yes. He was trying to make this particular space more for her. She seemed hesitant to do anything with the rooms that were already being lived in. This one being vacant had easily become her own, especially given how many plants she had started to collect at the penthouse.

[chateautangerine]

@vilestblood continued from this

Cliff frozen under the archway. Something like a thought, not quite fully formed, bubbles to the fore.

It smells metallic. It seeps down his throat. The scene is spread out before him, pulpy, dark red, like this man had prowled down and popped open a family of four the way one does champagne, spilling them over the walls and the light fixtures and the rug runners, the wool squish-sucking beneath their feet. Then there’s him, dressed in it. 

Trailing white hair, stained now, and two pale dots in a face of red. His mouth is red. Robes and ankles. There are portraits hanging, strangely emptied and strangely leaking, and they ooze thick from their canvases down their frames until they drip over the floors… Once… Again… Another. Then they don’t.

Slowly, the red lifts off the walls and off the wool of the rug. It lifts off of the paintings, their bodies still gone. It rains backwards, seeping into his skin. At last, clean. Nothing happened.

Cliff turns around, face muted, and quickly starts down where he came from.

He reemerges from under an archway in another hallway across from them. He turns his head and exhales, hard.

"Please don't look at me," he finally says, the words soft, like he'll live if they look away. Cliff lays his hand gingerly against the archway as if to disappear through it. He turns his face down. "I always wanted to go out in my sleep," he shares, gazing to the side. Then, quieter, "And I'd like to go now."

But the hotel looped him back here. It won't let him leave. He'd dropped Tylenol over the rug where he first was, pills, blue-white-red, scattered all over. Cliff keeps his hand on the archway and, suddenly, in that small way of his, "Is he here?"

The blood was somebody’s. Who did they kill.

[jankwritten]

I suppose the pros of going to a social event that gave me massive anxiety is that it makes me appreciate writing in the quiet of my own room ten times more. three cheers for the small things.

[wabblebees]

just finished my first playthrough of disco elysium. guys. wgat the fuck

[noxtivagus]

randomly thinking of ffxv n it influenced me sm fr i love the character's names so much

[yamikawas]

btw yoomtah already has several recordings of you singing. and talking. and breathing. and sleeping. one time you mumbled in your sleep and she replayed it for about 3 hours straight.

THAT IS LITERALLY SO CUTE OF HER IM GOING TO SCREAM OH MY GOD?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!SHE CAN RECORD ME AND LISTEN TO ME AS MUCH AS SHE WANTS IVE ALSO ALREADY LISTENED TO THE FIRST CLIP OF HER VOICE ON LOOP FOR HOURS SO<3<3<3<3<3<<3<3<3<33333<3<<3<3<3<3<3<3<<<3<3<3<3<3