#once again writing on the sales floor

[electricsynthesis]

“Tell me the rules,” his dad says, backpack thrown over his shoulder. They’re walking along the dirt road that leads to town, leaving the parked truck behind them; Keith’s dad had said he didn’t want anyone to see his license plate. When Keith opens his mouth, mind about to spill something about when to wash his hands, his dad interrupts with, “The rules for going into town.”

Keith scurries to keep up with his father’s long strides. It’s hot today, and Keith shifts his new backpack over his uncomfortably sweaty shoulders. His backpack has the constellation Orion on it, which is very exciting. It’s his first time taking it into town.

“Don’t talk to anyone,” Keith recites dutifully.

His father nods his approval. “Unless?”

“Unless you say it’s okay.”

“That’s right. And? What else?”

“No drawing attention to myself,”

“That means?”

“Keeping my ears covered,” Keith counts off on his fingers. “Lowering my eyes. Ummm…” when his dad explained this one to him, he’d just talked again and again about why Keith isn’t supposed to talk to anybody.

“Just… just don’t draw any attention,” his dad sighs.

“I don’t know what—”

“Yes, you do, boy, come on. It ain’t hard.” He snaps. Keith shuts his mouth. “What’s the last rule?”

“…I promised it wouldn’t happen again,” Keith whines, embarrassment and shame squirming in his gut.

“What’s the last rule?”

“It’s not fair,” Keith goes on, hotly, jogging to match stride with his dad. “I won’t talk to anyone. I swear. I just want to—”

His dad stops walking entirely to whirl on Keith. He towers up, high in the air and looking darkly down at Keith. “You will not wander off. I won’t stand for it.”

“I was fine—”

“You can wander around with your thumb up your ass the day I ain’t around anymore to tell you not to,” his dad says, the harsh snip of finality to his tone. “And not a second sooner.”

Keith lowers his eyes, chastised. Shame makes his chest warm, and his breath shudders as he nods, silently.

“You understand?”

“I understand,” Keith mumbles, eyes hot. He scrubs at his face before they can fall.

Silently, they walk past the sign that says LINCOLN, NEVADA. Dirt roads become asphalt. Stone stucco and brick buildings rise from the sandy ground. Keith brushes his sneakers over patches of grass on the side of the road. There’s a hum of activity in the air; all at once, noise and chaos rush him and his father.

There are so many people. They are all so different from Keith’s dad, who’s the only person he knows. They are tall and short and old and young. Some of them are even girls. Keith sticks close to his father’s side. He wants to grip the leather belt holding up his dad’s cargo shorts, but the last time he did that, his dad told him not to act like such a baby.

Keith’s eight now, and that means he needs to start acting like a grown up. But he isn’t allowed to explore on his own, not ever. The unfairness of it twists his stomach and his mouth along with it, but he doesn’t say anything.

His dad abruptly stops walking, and Keith runs into his side in surprise. His dad’s strong hand reaches out to steady Keith by his shoulder before he can fall. His dad’s face is thoughtful as he looks down at Keith. He crouches down. “You promise you won’t go nowhere I don’t give you permission to?”

Keith’s chest lights up with hope. “I promise. I swear.” He draws a cross over his chest. “Cross my heart, hope to die,”

“Stick a needle in your eye.” His dad finishes with a crooked smile. “Aaaalright,” he draws out the word, digging through his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out a bill and goes to hand it to Keith. But when Keith reaches for it, he snaps it back. Keith’s eyes find his father’s face. “You remember how to get to Lela’s?”

“Yes,” Keith nods.

“And you cross your heart you won’t talk to anybody but Lela?”

“Yes,”

“And you’re only allowed to talk to her about what you’re buying.”

“Yes, sir.”

His dad’s smile goes soft, and he hands him the money. Keith closes his hand around it in victory, chest warm with excitement. “Then why don’t you go buy your daddy some cigarettes?”

“Yes! Thank you, Daddy!” Keith cries, wrapping his father’s waist in a tight, happy hug. His dad chuckles, a big hand coming down to ruffle Keith’s hair.

“Come straight back here when you’re done, and if I ain’t here, wait for me. Don’t talk to nobody. And,” he flicks the edge of the bill. “Whatever you have leftover, you can spend on yourself. Whatever you want.”

Utter elation spreads through Keith’s entire body. “Really?”

“Really.” He chuckles, and pushes himself to a stand. He shoves at Keith’s shoulder, causing him to stumble in the direction of the road. “Get going, then.”

Keith takes off at a run through the streets, dodging around the legs of the town people. That’s what Keith’s dad calls them, anyway. Them town people don’t know shit from Adam. His dad doesn’t like people very much. But that’s alright— the only person Keith needs is his dad.

He trips over something fabric and springy, and goes sprawling onto the asphalt. It bites his palms and he hisses in pain, eyes watering. A dog barks very close to his face, and he yelps in surprise. When he whirls around in the dirt, he finds himself face to face with a dog. A big dog; shaggy brown fur and a long snout. Keith can smell the dog’s breath as it pants, and he wrinkles his nose.

“Oh my goodness!” Comes a shrill voice, and Keith, suddenly ill-at-ease, whips his head up. A woman stands there, with white hair and big glasses. She blinks owlishly down at him, mouth hanging open. “Are you alright, honey? You hurt anywhere?” Keith doesn’t do or say anything, he just stares at her. After a second, she stutters, “Where’s your momma?”

Nowhere, Keith doesn’t say, because he isn’t supposed to talk to anyone except Lela.

“Honey? You alright?” When she crouches down and reaches a hand out, Keith’s heart careens into overdrive. He flings himself upward and takes off sprinting once again into the roads. She calls something after him, but he ignores her. He can’t talk to her anyway.

Keith decides that he’s seen more people today than he has in his whole life before. The thought leaves him breathless and a little scared, but his dad let him go off alone, and he can’t mess this up. So he traces the roads, checking and double checking all the turns and signs until he finds himself at Lela’s Swap Shop.

The bell ting-tings as he opens the door, and it makes him jump in surprise. It squeaks as it slides shut, which makes his ears twitch. But he rallies himself; inside, it’s very cold— cold like winter— and he rubs at his arms. There’s a buzzing sound in the air that he doesn’t like. It’s a lot like a flying bug, or maybe if a car were really quiet? After a moment of investigation, he realizes that the shelves are making that sound. When he waves his hand over them, they’re cold. Woah. Like their fridge at home!

He remembers that the cigarettes are behind the counter, and that you have to ask for them. So he jogs past the shelf-fridges until he comes up to a wooden counter. He has to stand on his tiptoes to reach it, and he sets his elbows on the wood to help.

A woman emerges from a swinging door to the back. She’s tall. Maybe almost as tall as Keith’s dad. Her hair is long and black, and her eyes are dark. Keith swallows past a suddenly dry throat; he’s supposed to talk to her.

“Hey there, little man,” she says, talking softly. “You want some candy or something?”

Keith opens his mouth. No sound comes out. He’s supposed to talk to her. He has permission. He has to talk to her to get the cigarettes. But this whole thing is suddenly crazy; there’s so many people, and it’s so loud, and Keith is very small. Keith is trying to remember if he’s ever talked to someone without his dad before.

“Hon,” she says. “Are you alright?”

“Cigarettes,” Keith blurts, mouth and throat moving before his brain does.

She stands back, almost affronted. “What’s a little boy like you need with cigarettes?”

“They’re for my daddy,” he explains, shame warming his cheeks. He puts the bill on the counter. “See? He gave me this.”

Her mouth twists. She looks at the bill, and then at Keith. “And who exactly is this Daddy of yours?”

“Um,” Keith feels very chastised. “Heath Kogane?”

She chews on this for a second. Then, she swings her eyes up to the sky, and quietly mutters, “If anyone is gonna send their tiny little boy to,” and then she trails off unintelligibly. “Oh, fine. You know what your daddy smokes?”

“Marlboro menthols,” Keith recites.

She seems unwilling as she opens up the glass case behind her and pulls out a box of cigarettes. She hands them to Keith only after a long, drawn out sigh. When he takes them, she swipes his money and punches something into her cash register with clear annoyance on her face. “You tell your daddy to come and talk to me next time he’s in town, won’t ya?” She says, handing him another bill and some coins. In her other hand is the box of cigarettes.

And Keith is struck frozen-still, because he isn’t supposed to talk to Lela about anything other than buying stuff. So he takes the money, the cigarettes, turns heel and walks away. Lela stutters a few wordless sounds behind him, but he immediately realizes he doesn’t know where he’s going. “Where’s the candy?” He asks.

“Aisle four,” she says, voice confused. When he looks at her for a long moment, she points at the ceiling. “The aisles are labeled.” Keith follows her finger just to see that yes, there are little numbered signs. He rushes over to aisle four.

These shelves do not appear to be fridge-shelves, but just regular shelves. They’re stocked with all kinds of things; toaster waffles and crackers and things he doesn’t recognize. But he follows the shelves until he finds the technicolor packaging he associates with candy; neon brights and big bubble letters. He very carefully reads the label on each one, looking for— ah!

He finds a bag of sour jawbreakers and immediately rushes back over to the counter. He throws the bag so hard the jawbreakers shudder in place. Lela raises her eyebrows down at him. He hands her the money she just handed him, wordless. His other hand is still holding the cigarettes.

Equally wordless, she takes the money. Punches some more things into her cash register. This time, she only hands him a few coins leftover. He swings his backpack to his front, unzipping it and sliding the cigarettes, the candy, and the coins inside. He carefully arranges them so they all sit upright. Then, he zips has bag back up.

“Orion,” she says.

Keith’s eyes go wide. Not even his dad recognized the constellation, and he was the one who bought Keith the bag for his birthday.

She mistakes his wide eyes for confusion, and nods to his bag. “It’s very cool. You like the stars?”

Amazement has Keith nodding, very slowly.

“I do too,” she smiles. “Tell you a secret,” she lowers her voice, and Keith leans in close to hear better. “I used to be a pilot.”

His eyes go even wider. A pilot? His dad was a pilot, too. Pilots are so lucky. They get to touch the sky.

“D’you like space?” She asks.

Keith nods.

“You wanna fly?”

Keith nods.

She reaches out, and he flinches. But she just smiles, and brushes her finger against the front of his bag. “It’s much prettier up close.”

Keith doesn’t say anything. He hugs his backpack closer to his chest. But he feels breathless as he nods. He steps back, looking at her as he backs up. Backs up and up and up, until he’s sliding back through the door and into the outside world. He only loses sight of her when the door is swinging shut again.

Keith isn’t sure why he’s blinking tears from his eyes, or why his heart feels so fragile in his chest. He’s eight now; he isn’t supposed to be such a baby.

[sturnsdarling]

'Stay the fuck away from her'

{based on this ask I left in @sturnioz inbox} fratboy!chris leaves shy!reader alone at a party for the first time and it goes south, quickly.

vibe check: fighting, violence etc, pressure to do drugs, fratboy!chris being a guard dog, fratboy!matt being a lil bruiser (i love him) a TINY bit of fluff bc I cant help myself and I'm a sucker for an asshole (fb!chris) with a soft spot (s!reader)

1.6k words

A/N: based on cas' fratboy!chris au. FUCK I love this. I had this idea after cas' lil blurb about jealous!fbchris and she told me to write it so mother gets what mother wants. another day another slay y'all lets fucking go. PART TWO HERE

love and cigs, merc

The frat house was nearly vibrating with the movement of hundreds of people, all moving, dancing, fucking and taking drugs in every millimetre of the house.

Chris and Matt were off doing their rounds with the freshers, Chris handing out his new stuff to all the sorority girls that pushed themselves against him before palming them off to Matt, who was just as uninterested in them but of course, made the moves to make the sale.

Tonight was a big night, it being the first party back after Christmas break so, the boys actually left you by yourself for the first time ever to make their rounds. Of course, Chris had instructed Nate to watch over you, but he was so faded that he could barely look after himself.

You were sat on a smelly couch in a back room, pressed in between two rival frat brothers to Chris' frat, both of them fawning over you as you sat there uncomfortably, shifting in your skin at the sensation of them peppering encouraging touches over you.

"come on, baby, one lil pill wont hurt you" one said, holding a small white pill in front of your face, your eyes nearly crossing as you stared at it.

"yeah, it'll be fun, and don't worry, we'll look after you" the other said, menacingly smirking at his frat brother

you shook your head, "I'm alright, I don't do drugs like that" you said, trying to crane your head back from them.

"theres a first time for everything, baby" one of the boys said, pressing his thumb into your chin, attempting to open your mouth as his friend moved the pill closer to your lips.

Nate was sat on the other side of the room, two girls draped over his lap as he sucked on one of their necks, palming the other ones ass.

"oh fuck" he said as he looked over to you, pressed between two frat boys as they waved a pill in front of your face.

He pushed the girls off him and they whined in a huff. He lifted his lips and pulled his phone from his pocket, opening it and calling Chris.

"Chris, dude, theres some guys here n'there all over your girl, touchin' her n'shit, one of them has a pill and kid is basically forcing it in her mouth" he said down the phone.

Chris didn't reply, only hung up the phone with a tsk sound and summoned Matt to follow him.

Within seconds, Chris was in the room, searching around the sea of bodies for you. He met Nates eyes first, who was once again sandwiched between two blondes. Nate pointed over to the other side of the room to you. The sight made Chris' blood boil, a villainous smile etched across his face, shaking his head and pressing his tongue to the side of his mouth as the thought of what he was gonna do to that kid raced through his mind. You were desperately trying to free yourself from the trap the boys had laid for you, squirming as they touched you and edged a pill closer and closer to your lips.

Chris stormed over, taking a long drag of his joint before tossing it to the floor. Just as quick as he arrived at the sofa, his hands were wrapped around one of the boys shirts, pulling him off the sofa and throwing him on the floor. Everyone gasped, moving out the way and gawking at the sight of Chris coming to stand over him.

"dude what th-" the guys questioning was cut off by Chris coming down on him and clocking him round the jaw with a swift punch.

"Chris!" You shouted, jumping off the sofa and grabbing his shoulders.

He shoved you off him and turned back to the kid underneath him, swinging down once more and cracking his jaw off his knuckles.

"y'think you're hard 'cuz you pressure girls into taking your shit pills? huh, kid? y'think you're a fuckin' gangsta?" Chris screamed as he laid into him.

The guy was borderline unconscious as you screamed Chris' name over and over again. Matt came up behind you, grabbing you by the shoulders, "go stand with Nate" Matt said, pushing you in Nates direction.

You nearly fell forward as you stumbled over to Nate, unable to tear your eyes of Chris as he continued to hit the boy beneath him, never letting up despite the boys pleads.

"yo, get the fuck off him" His frat brother shouted, coming to grab Chris by the shoulders. His movements quickly cut off by Matt, pulling him backwards and shoving him back to the sofa.

"watch ya hands, tough guy" Matt chuckled, grabbing the guy by the scruff of his shirt and nutting him, cracking his nose off his forehead. The guy recoiled, blood pouring from his nose instantly as his hands flew to his face.

Matt pushed him back as he stumbled, meeting him on the floor with a brutal clock across his jaw.

Chris got up off the guy and pulled him up with him, holding his bloodied and swollen face inches from his, "think you're a fuckin' big dog, yeah?" He turned and threw the nearly limp guy on the sofa.

The boy shook his head frantically, holding his hands up as Chris stood over him. "no, no, I don't, I don't, I didn't know she was your girl dude, m'sorry" He stuttered.

"well, now you do, so stay the fuck away from her, yeah?" he spat, moving as if he was going to hit him again.

The boy flinched and whimpered, running away, leaving his frat brother to fend for himself as Matt continued to pummel into him. He was relentless, near enough laughing as the boy lost consciousness underneath him.

"you wanna force girls into doing shit? you wanna be a tough guy n'drug girls jus' so they'll fuck you?" Matt said, pulling the guy up off the ground by his shirt, "hows it feel bein' a fuckin' loser, huh? tell me kid, hows it feel?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" the guy cried and Matt just laughed in his face.

Chris panted as he watched the guy he near enough battered run away. He turned round to Matt, placing a hand on his shoulder and tapping him.

"s'enough, Matt, y'gonna kill him" he said, pulling Matt off the bloodied and battered boy on the floor.

Chris eyes immediately searched for you, finding you tucked into Nate, scared shitless of what you had just witnessed. He walked over to you, everyone in the room still staring at him as he did.

When he reached you, he grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you round to face him, taking your face into his bloodied hands.

"did they give you anything? huh? did they do anything t'you?" His eyes searched your face for any signs of drugs or bruises.

"no" you shook your head, brows furrowed as tears welled in your eyes.

Chris sighed and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. It was weird, Chris never hugged you like this, but as if on instinct you sunk into him, wrapping your hands around his waist.

"m'so sorry I left you alone, y'not leaving my side ever again, okay?" he muttered into your hair.

You nodded into his chest, whimpering slightly at the sensation of Chris breaking the hug.

"and you-" Chris spat, pushing Nate by the shoulders, "y'were s'possed to look after, her not let sketty fuckin' sorority girls distract you, fuckin' idiot" Chris said, insulting the girls as if they weren't right there.

"chill man, it all turned out peachy" Nate chuckled, stepping backwards with his hands up in surrender.

"get the fuck out my face, dude, can't even look at you" Chris spat, turning back to face you, taking your face in his hand once more.

"y'sure you're okay, kid?" he asked, soft eyes baring into yours.

you nodded, leaning into his gentle touch, the smell of iron lingering on his hand as it caressed your face.

"you didn't need to go that hard, Chris, you could have gotten hurt" you said, bringing a soft hand up to wrap around his wrist.

Chris chuckled, soothing a thumb over your face and raising his brows. "does it look like that kid could'a hurt me?" he asked, a prideful grin spread across his face.

You returned his smile and shook your head, gripping his wrist tighter.

"besides, you're important t'me, or whatever, so, I wasn't gonna let that fuckin' loser be all over you like that"

"I'm important to you?" you cheesed

"yeah, whatever, kid, try not to pull a muscle from cheesin' so hard" he rolled his eyes with a smirk.

"thankyou, for protecting me, Chris" you said, tugging at his wrist slightly.

"always" he said simply, before pulling you into a soft and quick kiss, his mouth slotting perfectly over yours, the taste of weed and shit beer lingering on his breath.

You chased the taste, whimpering slightly as he pulled away and dropped his hand from your face. You were smiling from ear to ear as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"wipe that smile off ya face, kid, s'not happenin' again" Chris said, referring to the kiss as he wiped a wet spot off your lip with his thumb.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

[p3ndeja6]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🍒

bangchan x fem! reader

fluff

summary: you had a long day at work, dealing with cases and clients that it wore you down to the very last bit of energy you had left. you just wanted to go home and enjoy the company of your lovely boyfriend who usually stays home and works from his at home studio. just wanting to be in the comfort and love of bangchan

content: just cute fluff, comfort, hopeless romantic type shit. implied job (office worker, lawyer, social worker) shoutout lowkey to those who are or want to be that. but it can be literally anything you want it to be :3

a relatively short one, not proof-read (once again)

a/n:n ilovehimsomuch, mi mandilon (in a good way), been trying to keep writing and publishing but im just lazy. ill try to keep posting. maybe ill do a lil hispanic one for hispanic heritage month, viva la raza. ill probs go back to hiatus after this LMFAO

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the hours were going by slow at work. today you had a ton of caseloads to work on before the following week. clients you had to meet throughout the day. barely had any time to check your phone or even let alone have lunch. it was like this most times but for some reason today felt heavier and draining.

it was almost time to clock out, and all you wanted to do is go home, relax and be in the embrace of your boyfriend. his arms and warm hugs could really bring you to life.

you packed all your things, your computer and the cases you didnt finish, and your purse. turning off the office light and shutting the door. saying goodbyes to everyone and giving weak smiles.

you were grateful that the warm evening had a nice breeze as you walked back to your shared apartment, really needing that walk and serenity.

walking back to the apartment, you get to the 15th floor and head towards your door, looking down at the slightly dirty 'welcome' sign that you found on sale at TJ Maxx.

grabbing your keys and starting to jingle the door knob. you finally unlocked the door and opening the door you see the slightly dim lit living room and connected kitchen. smelling like fabuloso. you smile to yourself knowing that chan cleaned around the house.

you put your bags down on the couch, and take off your flats that you had on. looking around, instinctively going over to his studio room, softly knocking on it and waiting a minute before opening it and smiling as you see that chan was facing towards his laptop, headphones on

you quietly and softly tap his shoulder, not trying to scare him. he jumps a little and turns around his chair, smiling instantly at the sight of you

he takes his headphones, and grabs your hands, looking up at you

"hi beautiful" he says. you smile at the compliment knowing you dont feel or look after the day you just had.

"hi handsome" you gently caressed his rough hands. he softly pulls you in his lap, holding you as you sat sideways from him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. holding your hips and legs closer to him.

"how was work?" he asked, while touching and soothing your legs.

you let out a sign and pinch the bridge of your nose, getting a headache just by thinking of work. "work was okay"

he quirks an eyebrow, sensing by your reaction to his question, that work was indeed not okay. rubbing you smoothly

"it doesn't look like it was just okay, cmon tell me, what happened at work that is making my beautiful upset" you couldnt help but smile at his words, naturally giving in (even though you were going to tell him) and telling him how work really was.

"work was... a lot tougher today. i just- i dont know, the caseload today was heavier and my clients today were too much. it was draining me really fast today" you let out

he looks at you with caring eyes, letting you continue ranting. not looking at him but still talking to him about work as he admires how beautiful and natural you looked on his lap complaining about work.

"i love my job, i really do but today just wasn't my day i guess"

he holds your face and makes you look at him, gently caressing your cheek. "it happens.. i know you love your job, and i also know that not everyday is going to be a good day... but that also means that you can just make the next day even better" he smiles, looking deeply into your eyes

you couldnt help but feel a rush of emotions and love for him, holding his face and admiring all of his features. you say to him an a quiet tone. "you always know what to say to me, dont you"

he cheeses and shyly looks away for a second before looking back at you. "im just telling you the truth" he runs his hands now down to your neck, holding you, almost in a possessive away, a caring possessive way.

you cant help but slowly lean into him, just wanting to feel his lips on your own. he knows what you are doing and just closes the gap between you both, melting into his lips, holding him. you stay there kissing until you finally had to pull away, making a popping smack sound from your lips as you pulled away, he looks at you with doe eyes.

"i dont know what i would do without you Christopher"

he smiles, holding your hands

"no need to think of that sweetheart, because you have me now, and im not going anywhere"

you stay there for a second and smile, finally speaking up again

"well enough about me.. what did you do today?" you smile getting off his lap, heading towards the kitchen

he follows you to the kitchen, close behind.

"well i dont know if you noticed but i had time and cleaned the house" he says so proudly. you turn to look at him, mid opening the fridge. looking around the room

"oh wow baby, you really did clean" you laugh a little and sniff the air "and you used the supplies i told you to use?" you say in almost shocked amused tone.

"yeah i did, just like you said, i cleaned the kitchen, the bathroom, and our room. i did that in less then 2 hours actually"

still in awe at his hard work and dedication to making the home nice and clean. you close the fridge and go up to him and hug him

he's surprised by the hug but nonetheless hugs you tighter back.

hugging him harder, not realizing that this is what you needed. melting like butter in his big strong arms. he realizes the severity of the hug and caresses and soothes your backside.

"i love you so much"

he smiles and pulls you back to look at you.

"you have no idea how much i love you, being with you brings me so much peace, i am utterly in love with you" he smiles

you almost felt like crying. you never had a real, loving relationship like the one you have with Chris. being with him makes every little wrong thing, alright.

he notices the glossy look in your eyes.

he leans slightly down, and kisses you, once again melting into your lips, moving your lips in sync with his. cupping his face, your fingers going in between his ears; holding him in place. not wanting to leave this exact moment with him.

you guys eventually pull away and just take in the view of each other

"cmon let me make you something to eat" he says, going towards the cabinets

you smile and appreciate his willingness to do such a sweet but meaningful act of service.

tiredly smiles and go over towards the counter and sit on the stool. waiting to see what he prepares you.

just watching him, cook for you, propping yourself on your elbows, holding your face with your hands.

after what felt like hours, he finally turned to you and placed the bowl of hot chicken noodle soup in front of you. havent realized he actually did cook you something

"oh baby i thought you'd just make me a sandwich with chips" you slightly laughed

he chuckled and shook his head, "honey, dont you get tired of eating that?"

you slightly frowned, "no"

he couldnt help but smile at your childish frown.

"well today have something different, i made it from scratch" he smileed

you couldnt help but smile warmly, you were hungry and could eat almost anything.

"okay then" you said as you grabbed the spoon and immediately starting digging in.

he smiles at your hungry attitude. you look up at him.

"arent you going to eat?" you say,

he goes to sit next you, just watching you eat. "i'll eat in a bit, gotta make sure you eat first" he smiles

you couldnt help it, this had to be the perfect evening. even though its a normal tuesday night at 7:37 pm.

you spent the entire evening talking and making plans for the weekend, eventually chan got up to serve himself a bowl of soup.

you had to get up for seconds to join him. enjoying the nice evening together.

you were just so glad to be living in this exact moment with him....

[anundyingfidelity]

YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter II)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 2.1k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff.

Warnings for this chapter: late night office rough sex with Dean, unprotected sex, guilty feelings for Sam, death as following the storyline of this episode but with slight changes.

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter II: A Second Life

The elevators closed and your eyes were locked on Sam’s gaze the whole time, until he disappeared from your sight. A strange feeling washed over you, seeing him like that, but Dean’s lips back on your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin brought you back to reality.

Quickly, you forced yourself to take in the sweet sensation of his fingers undoing the buttons of your blouse and his mouth ghosting over your covered breasts. He sucked on your tits, after pushing the bra up, his long, thick fingers squeezing your flesh.

“Dean,” you moaned, throwing your head back slightly.

The sound of the elevator caused him to separate from your flesh and you tried your best to cover your body as he dragged you to his office. Everything was quiet, no soul could be seen but you. This wasn’t the first time you had the pleasure of having him between your legs, but work had been busy and you were craving for release for such a long time.

He felt the same, judging by the way he pushed you against the wall once inside his office. How his lips kissed yours in a heated, needy gesture, his tongue finding its place inside your mouth, earning breathy moans from you. His hands withdrew your blouse, and he exposed your breasts again. Soon, he pulled up your skirt and your panties were discarded on the floor. With a gasp, you were between the wall and his body holding you, and he grinded his hips against your cunt. Dean hissed, feeling your legs wrapping around his waist and your hand unzipping his trousers to free his cock, hard and ready for you.

“Rough or gentle?” he asked, voice full of lust as he looked at you with half hooded eyes and that smirk of his.

“I’m stressed today, so you’d say,” you teased, stroking his hard length, feeling the pre cum already leaking.

“Of fucking course,” Dean hissed before pressing his lips on yours once again, one of his hands going between your legs to rub your folds, coating your clit with your own juices and stretching you out slowly with his digits for a moment. He smirked when a breathy moan passed your lips. “Rough it’ll be.”

You bit your lip, feeling the tip of his cock rubbing on your wet slit. “You know me so well.”

Your throbbing pussy welcomed him, as he slid inside you with a smooth movement of his hips. Dean started to pound into you against the wall, holding your thighs firmly with his hands. There was always something so beautiful and hot he found on you each time you were like this, with your eyes shut and mouth open, moaning and whimpering sweetly, while he fucked you. He loved how messy you were, how stupidly dirty you could get when the two of you were together.

The tight walls of your cunt fluttered around his cock as Dean began to leave harsh and wet kisses on your breasts, playing with your nipple with his mouth, one of his hands working on the other. You squirmed under his touch, your legs around his waist started to feel strained, but you don’t care as much as he keeps fucking you into oblivion. You moaned particularly loud when his cock reached the deepest spot inside you, and you felt so damn close.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, giving a particularly harsh thrust and making you moan again.

You covered your mouth with your hand to suppress the noises coming out, but it only caused Dean to rut even harder, until you came first. He increased the rhythm of his hips, twitching inside your convulsing walls, and finally got himself spilling inside you. Dean bucked his hips the last couple of times before carrying you with him until he sat down on the nearest chair in front of his desk, you on his lap trying to catch your breath and recover from your amazing high. Still buried deep inside your pussy, he caressed softly your thighs as you hid your face on the crook of his neck.

Despite all the rough fuck you just had, Dean always took good care of you, waiting until you be better to get up and leave. With you, he had been open to explore more than just a quick fuck sometimes. Whether it be his dominant side on you, or the overwhelming control you had on him, Dean just knew he was completely lost in your body and how well you’d work on his wishes and longings, despite this being an arrangement you both had settled for sex and sex only. Still lost in thoughts after a few minutes in a pleasant silence, you leaned back and pulled his softening cock out of you and made yourself comfortable on his laps, your skirt still rolled up and your panties pushed to the side that you didn’t bother to fix.

“Thank you,” you softly beamed at him, kissing the corner of his lips. “You’ve always been awesome at this.”

He chuckled, taking in the messy and disheveled look you had on. “You’re not so bad yourself, baby.”

You took your hand and caressed his cheek. “Maybe next time I could make a couple of moves on you… Fuck you my way perhaps.”

“Oh, yeah? Can’t wait for you to show me.”

The next day you were better than ever as you strolled on your floor. Employees were gathering around already, but there was a fuss in the back, specifically coming from the break room. You made your way through the people, and you saw the body of one of your eldest employees being carried out by the authorities. Without noticing exactly, you stood up by Sam’s side.

“What happened?” you asked in disbelief.

“They think Paul got here pretty early, and, uhm, killed himself with the microwave,” Sam replied, looking away in the direction they took the corpse.

He was avoiding your eyes, but you didn’t care that much at that moment, considering the situation. And you did your best to keep it cool, thinking about what he had witnessed in that stupid elevator. It was so silly; you just started speaking to Sam three weeks ago since he began working there and now, it suddenly was as if you were cheating on him.

But you were forced to remind yourself it was not the moment, nor the place to wander on that. An employee of yours had supposedly committed suicide and you just remembered what he had been waiting for since a couple of months ago.

“Oh god, he was just about to retire,” you mumbled, crossing your arms on your chest. “How could it be? He seemed perfectly fine, but I guess you don’t know in the end.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” Sam answered and he looked directly at you for just a couple of seconds. “Sorry, I need to go. Haven’t punched for my shift,” he said before going away with long strides, and you were left all by yourself.

Dean, who was witnessing your small conversation a few feet away, approached you immediately. The rest of the employees leaving the door frame as well.

“Hey,” Dean started, keeping his face stern and with a professional tone of voice.

“Hey…”

“I’m so sorry,” he continued as you started the way back to your office.

“Yeah, uhm, thank you,” you stuttered. “Actually, I don't know how to feel.”

“It’s pretty normal. It’s not like a situation we encounter everyday, so I understand it.”

Dean stopped once you did outside your office. You gave him a nod and a half smile that disappeared quickly.

“I guess so… I will have to write and prepare something for his family, sorry if anything we came up with is not on my plans anymore…”

“Absolutely no need to apologize to me, I get it. You’re gonna be fine,” he insisted, squeezing your shoulder in a friendly manner.

You knew your relationship was just physical, but this time you really needed to get it sorted out. He would always show you he understands.

“Thanks, Dean,” you smiled before leaving him in the hall.

When you locked yourself inside your office, he sighed deeply. Something was wrong, he thought while walking away. He got a quick glance of Sam, the guy who he had seen outside the elevator the day before and the one who spoke to you just moments ago. There was something weird about him too, and Dean remembered him asking if they knew each other when, in reality, Dean was sure he had never seen Sam through all his life. Maybe there was a chance? A hunch? Something that probably could connect them after all? Or maybe he was going insane. To sort out the curiosity he suddenly felt about the whole situation, Dean decided to look up Paul's file in the archives by himself.

Once the day was over, you just wanted to head home. Mr. Adler, your boss and Dean’s superior, was putting a huge pressure on you to deliver the remaining files you still had on your email, not really showing a shred of sympathy at the sudden events going on in your teams’ floor. When the headache stopped being tolerable, you decided it was enough and that you should leave.

Closing the office door behind you, you saw Sam getting ready to leave as well. He had been staying late, without you knowing. He noticed you stopping by his cubicle and smiled awkwardly; you sensed the same shame you felt last night.

“Staying late I see,” you started.

“Yeah, I got some other things to do,” Sam answered, brushing his hair softly.

You took that in as a sign of lying, but said nothing as you both started to leave the empty office.

“Right,” you nodded.

A silence envolveded you and he dared to speak again. “I didn’t notice you coming around today.”

“I had things to do as well,” you replied with a soft smile on your lips, spreading the gesture on him too.

“Tough day, huh?”

“It really has been tough,” you tried to laugh it off.

There was a small hesitation building up inside you, wondering if you should leave or wait for him when Sam got his stuff from the locker. But in the end, you felt like staying and facing whatever it was you were feeling. Too many things were happening at the same time, with Dean and you hooking up, the sudden death, and now this weird tension with Sam and how he was avoiding you the whole day. So you waited for Sam to get out, and you walked together inside the elevator. It was just the two of you there.

“I’m sorry you had to see that yesterday,” you began, looking at him with brows furrowed. He had a blank face and you breathed deeply. “I’m not like that, I swear, I just, I don’t know, it felt like it, and—”

“Did we know each other before this?” he asked abruptly, interrupting your words. His eyes were locked on yours for the first time through the day.

“Excuse me?”

“I came here like three weeks ago, but I feel like I’ve known you more than that,” he explained with a serious expression.

Confused, you shook your head in slow motion. “No, I don’t think so… I don’t know.”

“But there’s something, right?”

“Sam, you’re scaring me—”

“Just think about it,” he insisted, taking a step forward to get close to you. “Why do you feel like this?”

Sam leaned more and more towards you, and honestly, you had a vague idea of what he was talking about. The mixed, weird feelings you experienced with him were so different from Dean. Not like you were in a relationship, however it certainly felt as if you had done something really, really wrong to Sam. But that didn’t hit you until morning.

“Like what?”

“Like if we shared more than just a professional relationship? Maybe in another life?”

There was a shared heat as the elevator went down. You didn’t have time to think further than that, but what if this wasn’t what you really were? Could be an option as to how that weird sensation had been scratching you every time you saw his beautiful face.

What if it was a dream? A very weird one that you’ve been trapped in with both of them being the center of everything. You were not sure. What you were sure of was how you loved Dean’s touch every time you were out of work, the way Sam would get nervous when you approached his desk to chat for a bit… The way they both looked at you with love and desire, just as how Sam was watching you right at that moment.

This time, you didn’t stop him from kissing you.

taglist: @nix-rose

[directdogman]

ANOTHER quick thank you and an update on Dialtown in early 2024!!!

Hey, so, since I already made a very sappy thank you post very recently (foolishly not anticipating I'd have reason to write another so soon HHHHH), I'll largely try to stick to the topic of what's to come for this one, essential thank yous aside.

So, the two newest dialtown merch campaigns ended last night and the GITD randy plush hit 1038 sales & the pins hit 590. Wow.

To say that I didn't expect to sell 1628 units of Dialtown merch in the last 30 days is putting it mildly. DT game sales have also been really good during this Steam Winter Sale, selling over 100 copies per day consistently for the last few days. I'm absolutely FLOORED by the output of support this community has given DT (and me) as of late and for that, I must say thanks again.

Admittedly, I feel a lil bad that I'm not much further along in developing the Roger route DLC, as I teased it so long ago. This year has been somewhat privately turbulent and I did not anticipate I'd need to move places TWICE during the year, back when I confidently stated that Roger's route would drop by the end of 2023.

But, I'm committed to bringing you guys the content that you wanna see most in 2024 & will be making a big push in early 2024 to get the DLC ready, with at least another teaser in the early new year before the next campaign starts. I will get things back on schedule. As amazing as all this high quality DT merch is, I haven't forgotten that I'm a developer first and foremost, and new DT content, I shall bring in the new year - now that I have a reliable space to work in again.

To those who bought, posted about, drew fanart of and otherwise promoted the new DT merch releases... Thank you SO, so much. It helps keep the lights on, believe me. I'll be very busy this coming month, as DT's 2 year anniversary is just a month and a half away, and with it, the launch of a Phonegingi plush and more pins (you guys are free to speculate who'll be depicted in the next set :))

I'm mentioning these now so the dual-releases don't annihilate your unsuspecting wallets, heh heh (as two dual launches in a row without warning could be a tad cruel, otherwise.)

So, to circle back, thank you all again. And ofc, in particular, to my dear friend and valued collaborator, @uvfozz, who designs the DT plushies/pins and to the eternally supportive and diligent minds over at Makeship who are always a pleasure to collaborate with (and to whom I will send my direct thanks once everyone's back from Christmas break in the new year!)

2024 is gonna be a really busy year for DT with a lot on the horizon. I'll keep you guys posted in all things I do, but again, thanks. For everything. I'm very excited to see what 2024'll bring for Dialtown. Thanks, everyone! :)

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Omg the prompt!! Stalker!aegon w 7) Please don’t leave me. 🙏🙏

monster writing prompts

Companions

PAIRING: Stalker!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS:

WARNINGS: dark themes, stalking behaviour, manipulation, reference to Stockholm Syndrome, swearing.

His handsome face had grown familiar, although an eery chill coursed through your body whenever you passed by. He never missed a beat.

He was at your local park in the late evenings on the weekdays, as the glorious sun set itself into darkness. It was the only possible time you could go for an outdoor walk, considering you worked 9am-5pm, on the dot. And you initially thought not much of it, considering he too could be in the same position…

Although it grew even more odd, as you found yourself constantly in his presence. Whether it was at the local mall, your gym, or some cosy cafe tucked away into the corner of a street… He would always find you, and you him. 

You naturally felt weary, anxious of the blonde man, as he often was alone and yet, paid no mind. At times, you caught fleeting glimpses of him, and occasionally exchanged a friendly smile. Although, as you grew more sensitively anxious of his intentions, you were desperate to avoid any contact even by means of eyes.

You soon tried to take unexpected turns and twists to your routine. Avoiding the park after work, you would remain in the confines of your home, only to feel the undivided attention of stern, hidden eyes embracing your figure through the clarity of the window.

Immediately blinds shut close. You could scarcely sleep… You would awake to a sudden creak in the floor, and yet as your eyes lurked and vigilantly scanned the dark corridors of your hallway, with only the beams of moon and streetlights aiding your vision, you were convinced it was merely the floorboards acting up. Little to know, a stranger was in your home.

You wanted to move, you no longer felt safe nor secure in the prior comfort of your humble abode and soon after, a blatant “for sale” sign stood proudly on your lawn.

The same creak followed that night, although this time heavier. Even your footsteps did not bear the same effect on your wooden boards.

As you hesitantly yet ever so slowly wandered the corridor, mindlessly and sleepily convinced you were once again, alone. Just as you had turned in defeat, intending to drudge back to bed, you were met with a sturdy force that stopped you from taking another step forward.

A few, crucial seconds had passed, as your mind had awoken in a bolt, fathoming that a stranger… Although, the stranger had trespassed into your home. Before releasing a chilling, ear aching scream only for a sheer second before the man forcibly drowned your screams of help, with the large palm of his hand.

“Don’t you fucking think to scream. I mean no harm at all, Y/N, just listen—”

Petrified, the hot tears began to swell in your eyes, blurring your vision before they shed themselves against your flushed cheek and the man’s hand. His other hand gripped your side tightly, embracing your body against his, you felt feeble against him, as you tried to squirm your way out, with no luck.

“Please don’t leave… Don’t ditch me now, this can be our chance together. Don’t take that away from me… I’ve been pursuing you from the start, and you never stopped me… I won’t fucking let you. Has my devotion not been enough? And you used to smile… What happened?”

How he knew your name you could scarcely say… and yet, your mind had plunged into a sink of memories (as you scoured for a name to fit his face, and immediately, “Aegon” had sprouted into your mind [hearing it being called out a dozen of times from the coffee shop].

“A-Aegon” your broken, muffled voice rejoiced. And immediately, a spark of relief tinged across his unnerving eyes.

“Y-You’re Aegon—”

“You-You know my name… My beloved knows my name, she does of course…”

His grip felt tighter around your bicep, as his hand covering your mouth loosened, your warm breath dampening his fair skin. You hadn’t realised just how close the proximity was, until you felt a twitching sensation brewing against your lower stomach, a bulge pressing into your soft tissue, in turn… Igniting an unfamiliar feeling in you.

“I-I promise… Your life will be better… I will make it better.”

[booksndpoetry]

Chapter One: Meet-Cute

a/n: This was not the fic I was hoping to publish and I don't know what this is (it's a mess). I might make more if you encourage me.

wc: 2.4k words

pairing: art mogul! Hyunjin X writer! Reader

tags: friends to ??, reconciliation, use of cheesy epithets, me trying to write slow burn.

genre: a pinch of angst, fluff

triggers/warnings: Whatever this is, it is not good. Read at your own risk.

m.list

Ten.

No, not Ten from NCT.

Just ten more minutes until you could excuse yourself for the evening and it wouldn’t seem suspicious.

You take in deep breaths and try not to make eye contact with anyone lest they try to make conversation with you. You were deliberately dressed discreetly for the same purpose too. Baggy jeans, vulcanized sneakers, a white shirt with a logo you’ve never bothered to investigate, and a pin on your braided hair. You were sure you looked like you didn’t belong, and you felt it too.

Being a bestselling author has its perks, your editor had told you, her voice tinged with something like awe when your book sales had skyrocketed. You thought it meant that more people would leave you alone to write. Though, to your dismay, it meant events held at ridiculously expensive hotels, with overpriced champagne and people at every corner trying to please you so they got a favour out of you.

It should be pretty obvious in your behaviour that you hate these events. You weren’t even a good actor. Although, knowing your agent, she probably set you up to meet your next best sponsor or another journalist who would try to get an interview with you.

The more you thought, the more you tensed up. Checking your watch for the umpteenth time that evening, you let out a ragged breath. Eight more minutes until your freedom.

Or maybe not, you think when you see Frank, the editor-in-chief for [famous magazine name] making his way towards you. Frank was known to be relentless with his requests and you were cemented about the fact with your experience in his studio.

“Hello Miss, how’ve you been doing since I last saw you?”

You hold your hands behind your back, not fooled by his polite façade.

“Good. How about you Mr. Frank?”

“Good, good.” He nods his head, more to himself than you. “Great weather today, innit?”

The sky was pretty magnificent today. The event was being held on one of the top floors of a famous hotel, and the large glass windows were set perfectly to watch the sky. The sky was a cerulean blue, with streaks of pink and orange, like the trails were smeared by the tiny fingers of a child, bold and [synonym for pretty] in their forms.

“Truly.”

He chuckles again, “Always a person of a few words, Miss ‘Name’. Although, can I hear them?” There it was, the unspoken request. He would once again wear you down trying to convince you to spare some time for an interview and a magazine shoot, and you would have to refuse again. You hated refusing, as much as you had to do it, and you didn’t like people who took no for an answer.

You simply take a step back, as if a physical distance would help you say the words easier.

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Frank. I have an impending project and I don’t want to distract myself. Maybe next time.” You offer him a weak smile, trying not to let your grimace show. You were bad at this.

He simply waves you off, expression more sombre than it had been seconds ago, and your heart drops. You had disappointed him. You seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

Unable to stand being there any longer, you rush past the faceless bodies, feeling the need to go away, to run away somewhere.

You go down the elevator and text your agent.

<<Attendance: done.

You silence the device and pocket it, finally reaching the lobby of the hotel. You swear not to stay in the damn hotel for any second longer, but the universe gives you another reason.

Luckily, it’s in the form of someone familiar. Unluckily, it belonged to your best friend you hadn’t seen in seven years.

Hwang Hyunjin.

You trip in the middle of the lobby.

Hyunjin hadn’t known what to expect that evening. He had been offered an invitation, just like any other month. He was unsure about whether he had to attend the event. After all, he had a business to run. But after one of his clients had finished the meeting early, some deal about an upcoming art exhibition place, he was having second thoughts. But some part of him had insisted on his attendance, as he’d heard that one of his favourite artists would be coming, and that’s how he found himself at the entrance of the skyscraper.

What he absolutely did not expect was to see you, standing right in front of him. Until you tripped, and he couldn’t help his laughter.

You quickly get up and pretend to inspect your shoes for any indication of dust. Damn five-star hotels and their extremely slippery granite floors. For what purpose were they made so smooth and shiny? For one to see their reflection when they faceplanted there?

Hyunjin’s still laughing lightly when he comes near you.

“You okay?” he asks, concerned. You hear his voice, and it is still the same smooth tone, albeit deeper. You missed that voice. But the way he speaks, polite yet guarded, you think that maybe he doesn’t recognize you.

“You haven’t changed one bit. Still tripping down flat surfaces, Miss Writer?”

And he proves your assumption wrong. You frown at how easily he can annoy you with just the sight of his stupid face, handsome or not.

Your lips straighten themselves into a thin line, and he remembers why he’d teased you countless times when you were younger. You were adorable when you attempted to look angry, like a tiger cub trying to sulk. He smiles, eyes taking you in again.

“You haven’t changed either. You laughed at me when I fell!”

That wasn’t true. He had changed, in more ways than one. Time had carved him beautifully, with elegant lines and soft beauty, evident on his face. And he was no longer Hyun, your best friend. He was Hwang Hyunjin, the rising art mogul, and founder of the famous ‘Hwang Designers.’ The man sought after by rich men and women alike.

The laugh he’d been subduing comes out in full force once again at the memory, and he clutches his jacket. For a moment, he’s your Hyunjin again.

You hit him on the shoulder, and he stops laughing.

“I haven’t seen you for seven years and this is how you greet me?”

He sobers up quickly. He knew he had to apologize, sooner or later. He decides to do it now.

“Ice cream?” he asks.

“Butter-scotch and Strawberry?”

“Yes. It’ll be just like old times.”

“Deal.”

When the both of you walk out the set of doors, you don’t look back at the gigantic building and to your surprise, neither does he.

The both of you stumble into his car, a spacious Audi, and he puts the car in reverse. It reminds you of the countless things you’ve missed. Like the first time he learnt how to drive. It saddens you a little, and he notices.

“The nearest dessert place is pretty far. You sure about this?” He wanted to make sure he wasn’t intruding on your schedule.

“I’m sure, Hyun. Now, let’s go.” You punctuate your statement with impatient slaps on the centre console. He chuckles, starting the car.

Once on the road, he thinks back on your words earlier. You had called him Hyun, after such a long time. He’d been called a lot of things, but he thought this epithet was something he wanted to keep being called. It’s a physical entity of your friendship, showing how it is still intact. And he feels like he’s sixteen again, sitting with you on your rooftop, as your shoulders brush. Like nothing has changed.

He drives past trucks and numerous cars, taking turns until the roads are empty.

You roll the windows down, and let the wind flow between your tresses.

The cool air feels heavenly against your burning skin. You close your eyes just as a strong gust of wind blows. You lean against the rails of the windows. It felt like freedom, like being alive at last.

Hyunjin watches you intently, eyes flickering between you and the road. It had been so long since he’d seen you, and he physically could not keep his eyes off you. He still remembers the mole above your left eye, the numerous dimples on your cheeks and the little bump on your nose bridge. He’s dreamt about it every day you’ve been apart, to be honest, but now was not the time.

Driving through empty highways at night was not how he envisioned his reunion with you, but there you were.

“Do you want to go somewhere in particular?” he asks you, voice soft, in that same tone he used to talk to you.

“Just keep driving, please” you swallow thickly. You didn’t want to return to your reality, not yet.

He nods once, then “Shall I take you somewhere? You’ll like it, I promise. Unless you don’t want to.”

You hesitate, then “Okay. I trust that you won’t get rid of me.”

He rolls his eyes, “Come on, ----- you should know me better than that. I would’ve done it already if I wanted to.”

You huff, “And here I thought you wouldn’t even dream of it.”

He just smirks and shifts the gear, speeding up.

“Slow down, I don’t want to die yet.”

He side-eyes you, “I’m not getting you killed, darling” He slows down anyway.

You feel yourself flushing because of that word. This was new. The Hyunjin you knew always called you silly names, but not this. This was different, mature. The tone of his voice was suddenly deeper.

No, no.

This was Hyunjin you were talking about.

He was your friend years ago, and you have yet to determine what he is to you. You will not be having such thoughts. Shaking your head, you lean back in your seat, when he stops the car. He’s brought you to the spot near the bridge, overlooking the river reflecting the city lights. You get out of the car and he leans against the hood with you, simply watching the scene before you.

It’s beautiful, the vast cityscape, stretching along the length of the river. The flashing lights dance over the waterbody like stars twinkling over the Milky Way. It feels so grandiose. But, you know that despite it looking so enigmatic, it is not so glamorous in reality. And the sudden weight of the expectations of others weighs down on you, all at once.

The distress must have shown on your face, because he stands in front of you, holding your face like he used to do when you were upset.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He’s wiping your face, and you realize you’ve been crying.

“Nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I thought I could, until you went away to another corner of the world, leaving me behind.”

He flinches a little at the words. It’s true, he did leave you behind. It’s time he owns up to it.

“I’m sorry, ----. We were going to be far apart, and you and I were still young. I’m thankful for our friendship, but I thought that we could leave it behind. To revisit it one day, if we wanted to. I didn’t want to burden you with a friendship so pressing with its demands just to keep it alive. I thought I gave you a choice. Nonetheless, I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. I wanted to, but each year held me back when you’d gone years without speaking to me. But I believed I was still your friend,” he bends down and holds your hand. “I thought we’d survive despite not a single word being exchanged between us. And I know I’m right. But please be upset, I don’t like you being upset with me.”

You hold his hand, fingers curling around his wrist.

“I’m not mad at you, I understand. Maybe not then, but I do now.”

You give him a genuine smile, and his heart soars.

“So now, you’re back to being my best friend, no takebacks. Or I’ll knock you out.”

“Woah, ease up there. It’s been barely five seconds since we’ve made up and you’re already threatening me?”

“Like I said, I’ll knock you out.”

He immediately moves away from you, hands positioned in a poor imitation of some jiujitsu pose you know he has no idea about.

And you laugh, a childish sound coming from your mouth. He sees you, head thrown back and he feels his lips curling upwards.

You stay there for what feels like hours, catching up. He teases you and you threaten him, and he makes you laugh. You forget the ice cream. It feels just like old times.

When it gets darker, Hyunjin drops you off at your home after saving your number, with promises to meet you tomorrow. You wave him off, beaming.

Later, you stumble into bed with a heavy heart, sad that the evening had ended so soon. You know you won’t get any sleep, and yet you try. When you finally feel like you’re dozing off, your phone vibrates with a notification. Cursing whoever decided to message you without your permission (how dare they, when you were just about to fall asleep?) you unlock it to see a message from an unknown number.

>>>See you tomorrow, Miss Writer.

You smile and type something to send him too.

<<<See you tomorrow, Mr. Hwang.

And he’s the one who’s kicking his feet when he receives your message.

Labels: @straykidsland

© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration to characters. They do not reflect the real people in any way.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Between the Lines 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, Lee is rude, customer service triggers. and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters:Lee Bodecker

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Another day, another shift. It starts off less than ideal. Traffic is a slog and there’s customers outside waiting for open as you walk up. You have to escape them like a zombie horde to get inside. This time of year, they tend to resemble extras in The Walking Dead.

You put your things in the back and punch in. You help Giselle with the opening list as her lashes droop precariously. She’s never very awake on her morning shifts. As you balance the till, she yawns and checks her phone.

“That old lady is out again. Something about her back,” she pops a piece of gum in her mouth and starts chewing noisily. “Not like she could do much more than wring her hands.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you login and look across the store. You prefer being on the floor but you won’t get to stretch your legs until after noon.

“Eh, whatever. Not many seasonals this year,” she drones, “good, I don’t have to put up with children.”

You glance at her. She’s not much older than the high school students who come in to work the holiday sales. She’s just into her sophomore year and has the false sense of authority that often replaces the freshman fear.

You won’t mention that you have a masters and you’re still standing in the same place as her. Albeit, you’re full time and a pay grade higher. Still, it’s not that steep a gap between you.

The first customers are let in and swiftly fan out in their missions. A man comes up to ask about Tom Clancy’s novels and you point him in the right direction, telling him that Colton will be there to help out. He thanks you and shuffles away.

The morning drags by as you ring through the early birds. It’s that time of day where everyone is still waking up and seems to have something to complain about. You’ve suggested complementary coffee in hopes that it might quell their gripes.

Around eleven, you lean on the counter, the store effectively empty, and your headset crackles. Your name is called over the line to go to the operations room. You look at Giselle but she’s transfixed on her phone. She doesn’t even hear you say you’ll be right back.

The assistant manager, Colin, greets you in the operations room, one desk empty as he sits in another and wiggles a pen. You hover by the door as he keeps his focus on the monitor. For people who work in a bookstore, they do prefer the digital to the hard copy.

“Alright, let’s not waste time,” he leans back, finally tearing his attention from the computer, “got a complaint about you.”

“What?” You frown.

“Doing customer surveys, the online ones. This one’s particularly glowing,” he squints at the monitor again, “‘extremely dismissive and condescending. Kept trying to walk away’.”

“I never… are you sure it’s me?”

“They got your name. I went over the tape and it tracks. This guy, cop it looks like, you walked away twice. Why?” Colin points the pen at you derisively.

“Um, well, he told me to but changed his mind,” your eyes flutter as your nerves wind up. God, it has to be that jerk officer. “I did help him but he didn’t seem to want it.”

“Not what he says and he is a customer,” Colin sighs, “going to have to write you up, sweetie.”

You blink and hold your eyes shut. This is bullshit. You know better than to voice that thought.

“A write-up?”

“Relax, you got three before we do anything,” he pulls a paper over the desk and turns it towards you, “take the slap on the wrist and get back out there. It’s books. Just… smile a bit more and…” he pauses, his gaze dipping beneath your face, “maybe push your shoulders back. Posture’s important.”

You sniff back your disgust. You know what he means. Shoulders back; chest out. Gross. You cross the room and take the pen, reading over the write-up and the comments copy-pasted from the survey. Wow, what a jackass. You sign. Despite being a corporate peon, Colin’s right. It’s easier to just take the mark on your record.

“Thanks, sweetie,” he slides the paper away, “get back on the till.”

You nod and back out of the office. You shake your head as you stride through the store. This is so stupid and where the hell is Mr. Pine? He would’ve at least heard you out and overridden this nonsense decision. He’s been elusive lately and it shows.

You get back to cash as Giselle pops her gum noisily, “where were you, I gotta pee.”

“Go,” you wave her off as you step up behind the machine, “dead in here anyway.”

🚓

The day ends in the furor of after-work shoppers. You finally get free of the rush and into the lot. The air is crisp and whispers of the coming snows. Not quite cold enough as only a cold mist flecks down and has the tarmac shining black.

You go to your car and fish out your keys. As you do, someone rolls up behind your bumper and stops, exhaust puffing up in a stink. You shove the key in the door and glance over as someone gets out, staring at you over the roof of the cruiser. What the hell?

“Finished for the day?” The officer asks, the very same blight you had the pleasure of meeting the other day.

“Yes, officer.”

“Don’t sound so happy,” he comments, “nasty weather, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you nod and open your door, throwing your bag across to the passenger side.

“You’re being shifty… you nervous around cops?” He challenges as he rounds the hood of his car, nonchalantly idling in the lane.

“No,” you shrug, “I’m just headed home. Worked a long day, sir.”

“Oh yeah? You work so hard, don’t ya?” He scoffs, “smiles all worn out, ain’t it?”

He looms close, putting his hand on the roof of your car as his other comes up to touch your chin. You step back to look at him, crowded against the open door. You gape at him, heart pumping wildly.

“Officer, can I help you with something?”

“Sheriff,” he taps the star emblazoned on his coat, just under the fleecy collar, “I’m not lookin’ for your help, don’t you worry, but you look like you got a load on ya so I’m just doing my duty here and checkin’ in.”

You set your jaw. You’re not working, you have no obligation to pander. You’re parked between the lines, your insurance is up to date, and you’re tired as fuck.

“I’m good, sir. Thanks for asking. I gotta get home.”

He smiles, his hand falling to your scarf. He fixes the fabric as you fidget, resisting the voice that hollers at you to push him away. Assault on an officer is the last thing you need.

“Get home and cozy, huh?” He smirks, his blue eyes sparkling, “got someone special waitin’ on ya?”

“Sir?” You frown.

“Dangerous livin’ alone. I’m just makin’ sure you’re safe.”

You clamp your lips tight. He wrote a whole essay about you’re disservice to him, so why is he bothering you now? This is quite the power trip.

“Fine, sir. My cat will be hungry, so uh…”

“Ah, one of those,” he snorts and pulls away.

“One of…” your voice trails back.

“Don’t need no man,” he tuts, “you got your cat. They all say that before they know what’s what.” He wags his fingers as he backs away, “there’s only so much you can learn from books, you’ll see.”

You stare, frozen in place. Is that a threat? Is this all because you tried to help him? Because you didn’t just take his entitlement and swallow it like cherry pie? As absurd as it seems, it’s still scary as hell.

[loveephia]

*immediately bolted here as soon as i saw my favourite hq writer open these prompts again >:D*

"i cant get over how a few months ago i wanted to learn your name and now youre having breakfast with me in my sweater" + goshiki 🥹🥹🥹 (stay safe and stay hydrated phia love u <333)

#8'S LOVE STORY | goshiki tsutomu

prompt: "i can't get over how a few months ago, i wanted to learn your name, and now you're having breakfast with me in my sweater."

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, goshiki gushing over you and perhaps getting distracted during practice while thinking about you, you're his upperclassmen (second year), tendō is a wingman and brownie enthusiast, you like baking, quite long.

⚠ warning/s: none.

note: gosh this was so fun to write that it became a one-shot instead of a drabble. i've never gotten a goshiki request so this was a good challenge for me. i really hope that i got him and the rest of shiratorizawa's personalities right! TYSM AND ILY HIKARIII ENJOY READING GIRL!!! :D

"her name.. what's her name?!" goshiki tsutomu mentally groaned with furrowed brows, peeking out from his classroom door to look at you, his beautiful upperclassmen. you were a responsible girl who did everything at your own pace, hence the clipboard in your hands to check your schedule for the day. if the student council of shiratorizawa accepted second years, you definitely would've at least been the secretary.

goshiki heard your name once from a few of your friends, but he.. just can't remember!

so here he is, irritatedly sipping on his juice box while staring you down. although not on purpose, of course.

"what's up, goshiki! what are we lookin' at?" tendō appears out of nowhere, accidentally spooking the poor wing spiker. goshiki turns his head to look over his shoulder, "huh?! tendō, what are you doing here?! aren't the third year's classrooms all the way on the third floor?"

"what a smart little cookie you are!" tendō ruffled goshiki's hair. "well, y'know how shiratorizawa's annual bake sale is coming up? i'm trying to find y/n because i heard that she's handling the preparations this year. i wanna see if i can get some of her famous two-bite brownies in advance before they sell out again!" tendō hisses at the bitter memory.

tendō can still recall the stinging feeling of how he wasn't able to purchase last year's batch because a volleyball game overlapped on the same day as the sale, so by the time the team got back to shiratorizawa, all of the brownies were gone.

and, hold on..

"y/n!" goshiki rejoices as he was finally able to recollect your name, all thanks to tendō. "yes?" you ask, looking at goshiki with a confused look.

goshiki turns red. "n- nothing!" i forgot that she was in the same hallway!

something in tendō sparks, and he suddenly has the urge to help his underclassmen's love life. he can bring up the brownie topic with you later..

"hey, n/n! what do you think of our up-and-coming ace here? ain't he a real firecracker?" tendō suddenly compliments goshiki, even wrapping his long arm around the young boy's shoulder. goshiki widens his eyes, already wanting to hear more. "hm? oh, i haven't seen him play yet," and just like that, goshiki's ego has been cracked and bruised.

"but i'd love to be invited to the next game if that's okay with you, goshiki." you smile a pearly one at him, and goshiki's mood is turned right back around. "yes! please come, y/n! i won't disappoint you!" he exclaims.

you giggled it off and soon excuse yourself from the two.

"what a cute boy!" you thought with a faint blush on your cheeks.

goshiki looks at tendō, utterly speechless to the core, while the middle blocker only dusts his hands off as if he's just finished some heavy labor. "what can i say! i may not be the first to get married from our team, but i can be a good matchmaker!"

goshiki has never had more respect for tendō than he has right now.

time skip.

"oi! stop standing around like that, number eight! you look like a lost kid at the mall!" coach washijo scolded goshiki, who flinched. i was spacing out again! "s- sorry, coach!"

reon comes up to tendō and shirabu, "what's up with him?" he asks. shirabu sighs, "i don't know. but if he continues to do this, then he'll just drag the whole team down."

"oh, poor little shirabu! i can tell you what's going on in goshiki's head," tendō says, "our future ace has a crush on the sweet and classy y/n!"

"that doesn't matter. can't he just leave his personal feelings out of practice? prelims are around the corner, after all." shirabu stated factually. "it's not like you're capable enough to have crushes anyway, so the least you could do is cut goshiki some slack." semi poked fun at shirabu, as the older setter just so happened to overhear the conversation from a few feet away.

"what did you say?" a visible vein forms on shirabu's forehead.

tendō turns to reon while shirabu and semi bicker, "anyway, the kid is all worried about the upcoming game because y/n is coming to see him play for the first time." tendō whispers. "you think he'll be alright?"

reon looks at goshiki, who's physically trembling. there's even a gloomy aura around him practically screaming, "don't screw this up, don't screw this up, don't screw this up."

just in good timing, ushijima places his palm on goshiki's shoulder. "rest, goshiki. you need to be in good shape to practice." he states. "yeah, exactly! aren't you gonna be ushiwaka's successor? what'll y/n think when she sees you all shaken up on the court!" tendō exclaims.

ushiwaka's.. successor.. y/n..

goshiki's aura quickly shifts into one of fiery determination, ready to take on anything and everything. "you're right, tendō! i'll do my best!"

"it's really easy to get this kid going, huh.." the team thought simultaneously, sweat dropping in the process.

time skip.

it's the day of the prelims, and shiratorizawa was up against ohgiminami high. they're not a powerhouse that goshiki was familiar of, but then again, they're not be underestimated.

the starting line-ups are on court, and there goshiki was standing, being the only first year. that was something you noticed from the stands.

"he must be really talented to have been able to get that far.. i heard that coach washijo is tough on the volleyball club too." you thought.

the coin is flipped and shiratorizawa ends up serving first. ushijima hits the ball and there we go, a service ace. you're impressed to have seen the ball fly by that fast, but then again, it's ushijima. "if i tried receiving that, my arms would fall right off.."

goshiki sees your amused face from the stands, and he huffs. "wait until you see me score a point, y/n!"

a few rounds later, and the rotation is in goshiki's favor. he's up front. he can do a line shot, a move that he specializes in.

"make it a good one, goshiki!" tendō encourages the boy as shirabu sets the ball cleanly toward goshiki. even though he has two blockers against him, he was still able to make a beautiful line shot that granted shiratorizawa another point.

"what was that?!" you were shocked, to say the least. "tendō wasn't kidding when he said he'd be the up-and-coming ace.." you quietly mutter, referring to goshiki.

you watched the way that goshiki shortly celebrated on the court with each of his teammates giving him some heavy pats on the back. the moment was adorable.

goshiki looked up to see you smiling fondly at him. you send him a wave, and he shoots back a smile full of pride; a smile that says, "look at me, y/n! aren't i amazing?"

and only if you knew what it conveyed, you would've replied with a, "yes, goshiki. very."

time skip.

you yawn, clearly drowsy from the lack of sleep. on the table in front of you, was a nice breakfast whipped up by shiratorizawa's patient cooks; one omurice, a small bowl of grapes, and a cup of milk. but besides what was on the table, was what was across from you; goshiki tsutomu, your boyfriend.

it was a cold morning in japan, for spring had finally started. so here you are, all bundled up in goshiki's volleyball jersey.

he's seen smiling at you, and you tilt your head. "what's on your mind, tomu?"

"nothing, it's just.. i can't really get over how a few months ago, i wanted to learn your name, and now you're having breakfast with me in my jersey." goshiki says, "honestly, if it weren't for tendō, i probably wouldn't even be with you right now."

you perk a brow. goshiki panics, "d- don't tell him i said that though!"

"i wouldn't give tendō all the credit, really," you started, "i actually had already taken an interest in you when you were looking at me in the first year's hallway. it was only a matter of time until i'd have mustered enough courage to talk to you myself." you admitted.

is this what a heart attack feels like, because goshiki can feel his chest swelling in both love and pride.

this was a happy ending not only for the two of you, but for tendō too, since he was able to buy all of the two-bite brownies he needed.

© lowercase intended | loveephia

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter One: A New Friend, A New Enemy

The Pariahs That Saved The World (Masterlist)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: mentions of death, canon descriptions (vecna's curse)

[A/N: Thank you to everyone who seems really excited about this! I am going to try and post for this one weekly, just so I have enough time between uni and work to write new chapters :) This one is a little long, but I needed to set up Reader's character a little more so enjoy!]

The Introduction <-

A New Friend, A New Enemy

“Y/n!”

You slip off your headphones and greet your grandmother with a smile, laughing when she squeezed you tight. It had been almost 8 months since you watched her wave her hand of farewell in the rear view mirror. You had missed her the most, you think. Her warm hugs, her calming perfume, the way she cared for you.

“Come on, I’ve made us some lunch.” She hurries you inside and you laugh again.

“I need to grab the rest of my things, first.” You shake your head in amusement, escaping her clutches and darting back to the taxi, thanking the man for pulling out your luggage.

Just as you hitch your duffel bag over your shoulder, your eyes catch something familiar a few houses down. A worn out and beaten Chevrolet sat abandoned outside of its former resident’s house, a white piece of paper resembling a ticket you had seen when the mechanics would return your property if not claimed. You could just make out the ‘for sale’ sign driven into the mud, your heart wrenching. You had hoped your return would be free from unwanted memories. That obviously didn’t exist in Hawkins.

“So, tell me everything. How’s Stanford?” Gran rushes through with excitement just as your feet are barely inside the door. “Oh, we are so proud of you, honey. Our little star, a Stanford journalist!”

“Gran, you know it’s only my first year, I haven’t even managed to write anything let alone publish it.” You say, following her with your bags. She was leading you up to the guest room. Well, technically, it was your room. You had never really accepted that.

“Oh, did you notice the Hargroves house is for sale?” She whispers out like an unspeakable secret, and you dump your bags on the floor.

“Yeah, I saw.” You try to remain emotionless, rolling your shoulder until the usual ache faded. You were used to it now, the muscles flaring up every now and then.

“Apparently- now, you didn’t hear it from me…” She starts to lean in and you suppress a smile. Your grandmother, the gossiper. “Apparently, the husband just took off.”

“What?” You suddenly gain interest, frowning.

“Oh, yeah. The end of last summer.” She nods knowingly. “Must have been hard for them after their son died. It was a tragedy. And that poor girl… Andrea down the road told me she and the mother were forced to move into the trailer park down by Kerley. Not fit for a child, if you ask me.”

“They obviously couldn’t afford anywhere else.” You say, mostly to yourself, and Gran simply hums in agreement.

“Oh, which reminds me, Melanie, the one with the bird nest hair, she…”

She begins rambling once again about the neighbourhood, obviously pleased to have her granddaughter back so she can share the gossip. You listened intently, nodding when you needed to, offering your own remarks when prompted. You loved your Gran. The thought of her being alone in this house affected you more than you realise.

The real reason you were back wasn’t because you had missed Hawkins. In fact, you were set on your Spring Break exploring Stanford and all it had to offer. But about two months ago, your grandad was omitted to the hospital and a week later, he was no longer with you. Your Gran had shared how his health had been deteriorating for a while now, that they had expected it sooner or later. So, in the end, it wasn’t a surprise. It didn’t make it any less sad.

“Should I be expecting guests for dinner?” She asks and you blink, frowning.

“Guests?”

“Your friends.” She reiterates, already busying her hands by pulling out your already folded clothes from your suitcase and refolding them how she liked it. “I assume everyone will be anxious to see you. It’s been eight months, hasn’t it?”

“Uh…” You purse your lips, shrugging. “I don’t know, I thought it could just be the two of us tonight.”

Gran gently places down a sweater and eyes you suspiciously. “So, you’ll be seeing them tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” You give off the first vague answer in your head, fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket and sitting down on the plush bedding behind you.

“Hm.” She sounds, sliding shut the first drawer before she silently walks around the bed and sits beside you. “You won’t be seeing them, will you?”

It wasn’t a question. You lift your eyes to meet hers and sigh.

“We aren’t as close as we were before, Gran. It’s… complicated.” You decide and she takes your hand in hers.

“You’ve known them since you were just a little sprout.” She ruffles your hair and you cringe, laughing and batting her hand away. “I’m sure whatever happened can’t be so complicated that you can’t… I don’t know, catch up over coffee? Or whatever you kids are doing these days.”

“I wish it was like that.” You say, and you meant it. After a moment, she seems to understand that you didn’t want to continue this particular conversation and she stands, brushing her outfit back into simple perfection.

“Well, sandwiches, anyone?” She offers and you grin, nodding.

The day before you left for Stanford, you were contemplating whether or not it was the right choice. Gran was right, you have known them since you were a kid. But last summer changed all of that. You weren’t sure you could see their faces ever again.

So, rather than try and find them, you decided to spend the next day unpacking. You’d be here for a month so it made sense to have everything neat and tidy. It was just until the funeral, and then you’d be back at college and studying away any memory of Hawkins being your home. Because it wasn’t. Not anymore.

You can hear the distant ring of the phone echoing up the stairs, continuing to pull out your books. You might as well be caught up with your classes if you were going to spend all your time inside.

“Y/n!” Gran calls up and you push away from the desk to lean over the banister.

“Yeah?” You ask as she stares up at you, the phone in her left hand while the right covered the receiver.

“It’s your friend.” She says with a small smile and your face drops into a frown. “She says it’s urgent.”

“Uh…” You shake your head. Who would be calling you? “Yeah, I’ll be down in a sec.”

Gran nods and relays the information, setting the phone on the side table and disappearing back into the kitchen.

Your footsteps were wary as you descend the staircase, eyes set on the white object beside one of your grandmother’s vases. There was a hauntingly familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through your body, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. Once you reach the table, you shift your focus to the photo frame. It was small, a collected memory from a few years ago now. You were stood there smiling, the camera capturing you in pleasant surprise when a brunette girl behind you had jumped onto your back. It made your eyes sting, and you knew you had to make the decision to answer the call.

Hesitantly picking up the phone, you hold it to your ear and close your eyes.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?” Nancy’s voice blares through and your eyes snap back open.

Barrels of apologies and excuses spewed from her lips and you stand in silent shock, clutching the receiver a little too tight. She could only be calling for one reason. You had known it before you had even answered the phone.

Something was happening in Hawkins. Again. And if Nancy was calling for help, then she truly needed it.

And you’d never let her down.

“Have we met before?” You ask, studying the girl stood next to you.

The walls of the archive were surprisingly bright, shining an iridescent hue on her dark blonde locks. Her blue eyes were blinking back at you, pink lips stuck in a soft pucker of indecision. She was pretty. Really pretty. And at the same time she looked effortlessly cool, a jacket you wished you own. Something about her felt familiar to you, drawing you in.

Then a pang of guilt hits you and you force your concentration on waiting for her answer.

Robin felt weak. Who were you? It was taking everything in her to open her mouth and speak which, as literally everyone knew, was incredibly unlike her.

“I don’t think so.” Robin finally breathes out. There was softness in the way you spoke to her too, calming her nerves. Those strange waves of anxiety were being taken with the tide like you were her lighthouse in the stormy sea of her mind.

“Oh.” You scrunch your face with a smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

She was surprised to see you put out your hand but she willingly shakes it anyway, smiling back.

When you pull away, Robin seems a little more comfortable, coming closer to peer down at your old project folder, reading along with Nancy. You tried not to stare, busying your eyes with your own work in Nancy’s hands.

“Anything… juicy over there?” Robin asks Nancy and the girl throws her a tight lipped smile.

“Nothing new yet.” She responds and you notice the strain in her voice. She adopted it any time she was struggling to enjoy somebody’s presence.

“Victor seemed like a normal guy. Dead family, missing eyes, took a plea deal, sent to Pennhurst. Blah, blah, blah, blah.” Robin utters as she skims over the page below, slowly raising her head to look at Nancy. “What are we looking for exactly?”

Nancy doesn’t respond and continues flicking through the pages, making Robin’s eyes widen.

“Nance?” She tries again and you frown.

“She’s focused.” You offer, smiling. “She zones in so much that she zones out sometimes.”

“Right.” She nods slowly, still staring at her. “Um, so are we, uh… looking for any mentions of dark wizards or alternate dimensions? Things in that vein?”

You remember something and open your mouth to speak before Nancy interrupts with a huff.

“I don’t know, okay?” She sighs loudly, leaning against the desk and meeting Robin’s eyes. “It’s starting to seem like this was just a big waste of time. And you’re obviously bored so why don’t you just call Steve? I’m sure he’ll come pick you up. And I mean, I’m not really in danger here, so…”

With that, she walks away from the table and grabs another folder you had brought, furiously flipping through as she travels down a different staircase to the filing room. Your eyebrows raise.

“Woah.” You simply say, noticing Robin’s frown. “She’s, uh… hell, I don’t even know. Nance gets ultra focused when she thinks she has a lead on something and, well… she doesn’t like to get it wrong. Which is understandable.”

“So, she acts like this with other people?” She asks and you tighten your lips.

“Um…”

“Okay, that’s a no.” Robin groans, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m trying, I really am, I just struggle with whatever the hell bonding is meant to be, I mean me and Steve literally only bonded because we were both getting tortured and thought we would die. Which, no, not an ideal way to start a friendship but you know what, it’s better than whatever the hell this is.”

“You were at Starcourt?” You frown and she looks back at you, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” She waves her hands, “I, um… no one really mentions it anymore. Unless it’s the news and they’re pretending like it was a-”

“Fire, yeah. I heard.” You say, staring at the stairs Nancy descended. “How did all of this start?”

“Excuse me?” She blinks and you turn your attention back to her.

“This… Vecna, was it? How did it start?” You repeat, shaking your head. “Nancy could only tell me so much over the phone so I’m a little behind.”

“A girl was found dead in the trailer park.” Robin relays, gulping. “Chrissy Cunningham? She’s a cheerleader. Was. They found her with all her bones snapped and her eyes were… gone. They think Eddie Munson did it-”

“Eddie?” You gasp, and Robin looks surprised. “No, Eddie wouldn’t do that-”

“We know. Trust me.” She says hurriedly, “He told us everything that happened. Apparently she was floating in the air and her bones were snapping- it’s a really gruesome story but the same thing, like, just happened to Fred and we need to figure out who this Vecna is before someone else gets hurt.”

“Okay.” You breathe and she raises her brow.

“Okay? I just unloaded a dump of hell onto you, and it’s okay?” She sounded intrigued and you shrug.

“The last few years have been… weird. To the point where weird sounds normal now.” You say, a soft frown on your features.

Robin wasn’t entirely sure where you fit into all of this. Sure, you had information they needed, you’ve been a part of their group for some time, you made sense. What she was struggling to understand is why you were here now. And why you weren’t here before.

“How’d you meet everyone?” You ask before she can. Any thought she had of questioning your arrival was cleverly misplaced. For the moment.

“I worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last year.” Robin nods and you frown.

“But I never…” You start before your eyes widen, mouth curling into a smile. “Oh my god, yes! I do remember you!”

“You do?” Robin tries to comb back through her memories.

“Yeah, Max dragged me there maybe… a week after it opened? She was telling me about Steve’s little sailor outfit and of course, I didn’t believe her, so she had to show me proof.” You giggle to yourself, meeting her eyes. “I remember you were taking a break outside, Max introduced us. Well, kind of. She never got to my name before Steve arrived with that stupid frown on his face.”

“I don’t remember that.” She frowns and you bite your lip, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. “Sorry, I don’t mean that in like, a mean girl way. I mean, my memory is apparently broken because I’m very sure I would have remembered you. Not in a weird way, either, like- I just think you make an impression on people- a good one. Not a bad one.”

“It’s okay.” You laugh and she shakes her head enough to make her bangs sway in her embarrassment. “I looked a lot different then. And I was, like, super shy. I was probably hiding my face or something.”

“Hold on.” She blinks with a smirk. “You’re the girl? Like, the girl?”

“Am I meant to know what that means?” You squint your eyes.

Robin simply laughs to herself until she clocks your confusion. “No, I… Max did bring someone in for, like, one of our first ever shifts together. I remember because when they left, Steve looked like some kicked puppy and I couldn’t work with him and that stupid frown so I made him tell me what was bothering him. Apparently, the girl that left was the girl he couldn’t get in high school and it ‘haunts’ him. It’s so stupid.”

You go quiet and her eyes widen.

“Oh god.” She covers her mouth. “Did I talk too much again? God, I’m sorry- I literally can’t control my mouth.”

“No, you’re right.” You say, shaking your head. “Steve… he and I don’t really get along. Opposite ends of the high school popularity pool until I won this debate contest and suddenly everyone wanted to be my friend. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but suddenly I was on Steve’s radar and, well, you know the rest.”

“You can do better.” She simply nods and you raise your eyebrow at her remark. “What? Oh, he’s amazing now. Like, a genuine gentleman kind of guy, but King Steve? Whew, that boy needed a leash or something.”

“You guys are pretty close, huh?” You ask and she smiles.

“Yeah, he’s my best…” She begins before her face drops. Oh.

“What?” You ask when she starts walking away.

“I know why!” She exclaims before turning her heel and marching down those steps to Nancy, finding her sorting through the filing cabinet.

If Nancy heard her, she didn’t acknowledge it. Robin felt so stupid. It had been a while since she’d been a part of ‘girl world’ or, more specifically, ‘girl-code world’. The thought of there being any tension hadn’t even crossed her mind before.

“You do know that Steve and I are, like, totally not a thing, right?” Robin asks breathlessly, leaning against the wooden banister.

“What?” Nancy frowns, shaking her head and turning to look over her shoulder.

“So I figure that you and Jonathan are still going strong ‘cause you guys are going to college together, and you’re like one of those unstoppable power couples, but I… I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew that Steve and I are just friends. Like, platonic with a capital P.”

Nancy’s response in underwhelming at best, a tight lipped smile and Robin almost groans in frustration. She can hear your sneakers steadily descend the stairs and she turns back.

“Just in case that’s adding any tension between us.” She expresses to Nancy and you frown at the interaction.

“It wasn’t.” Nancy replies and Robin sighs.

“Uh…” You start to say, both pairs of eyes immediately looking at you. “Sorry to, um, interrupt. I have stuff I need to do…”

“Right.” Nancy blinks apologetically, looking back at the folder in her hands. “I’m so sorry, I really thought I was going to find something. I… I didn’t want to drag you into this, really, it’s just-”

“Hawkins.” You finish her sentence, stepping off the final stair and leaning against the banister. “Yeah, I know.”

“Holy shit.” Robin gasps, suddenly grabbing the folder out of Nancy’s hands despite her silent protest. “Is that from The Weekly Watcher?”

She points to a specific part of one of the tabs and you move to peer over her shoulder, nodding.

“Don’t they write about, like, Bigfoot and UFOs?” Nancy scoffs, already dismissing the idea.

“First of all, UFOs are absolutely real. Bigfoot I’m still on the fence about.” She comments and you hum agreement. “But may I remind you we are looking for information on dark wizards? If someone’s gonna write about that, it’s gonna be these weirdos.”

“She’s not wrong.” You add and Nancy’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Yeah, there’s a whole article about Victor Creel. He claimed that a vengeful demon killed his family. Obviously I only added a reference for context, I never actually believed it. You know, before…”

You vaguely gesture the space around you and Robin flips the page over.

“According to several insiders, Victor believed his house was haunted by an ancient demon.” Robin read aloud, and you could feel the goosebumps prickle along your skin. “Victor allegedly hired a priest to exorcise the demon from his home- pretty novel for the 50s, Exorcistwasn’t even out yet.”

“Keep- keep going.” Nancy insisted and Robin frowns.

“That’s all that’s here.” She says and Nancy looks at you.

“He claimed that the exorcism failed.” You recall, staring at the cut out photo of the Creel Family. “He said it angered the demon. It murdered his family, removing their eyes.”

“Did it say why he wasn’t killed?” Robin questions.

“Victor believed he was spared as a punishment.” You say with a twist in your stomach. His whole family died. He was all alone.

“Yeah, that’s pretty convenient for Victor.” Nancy mumbles and Robin frowns.

“Yeah, or super inconvenient.” She challenges, her eyes looking at yours for support. You simply nod, feeling sick. “Victor was declared legally insane by the court, right? Well, what if this is why? I mean, it sounds pretty insane, it just didn’t go public because-”

“The plea bargain.” Nancy jumps in, and you can see her trying to slot all the pieces together, “The records were sealed.”

“What if a demon did invade Victor’s home.” Robin glances between you both. “It’s just, this demon wasn’t any old demon.”

“It was Vecna.” Nancy finishes, and you immediately start shaking your head.

“Okay, you guys got everything you need?” You quickly rush out, sorting the folder around so it would shut. “Actually, you know what, you guys can just keep that, I need to-”

“You’re leaving?” Nancy frowns, following you as you jog back up the stairs and to where you had dumped your bag before. Robin hurriedly grabbed your folder and followed suit.

“Yeah, I told you, I have stuff to do.” You mutter an excuse, slipping your bag over your shoulder.

“But what about-”

“No, Nance.” You suddenly say, much stricter than you intended it to be. You pause your steps, taking a deep breath to look her in the eye. “I hate that there’s something new terrorising Hawkins. And I’m sorry you have to deal with it. I am. But that’s your choice. I can’t do this again.”

Robin stood there, clutching your folder to her chest. Nancy was struggling with her words, and you didn’t look like you were going to stick around long enough to hear them.

“We need you.” Robin blurts and you look at her, frowning. “I’m sorry, but we do. You know more about this case than any of us, you dedicated, what, a whole month? Maybe more? To learn about the Creel House, about the murders. You have information we can’t possible find because Hawkins doesn’t like to keep around its records of murder, and- and Nancy said you were great at this detective stuff which basically means you know what we need to do next.”

Rather than respond, you start weighing your options. The best decision you ever made was leaving all of this behind. Stanford had everything you wanted; hope. Anytime you decided to help them, it was always your life you were risking. That they were risking. Why would this time be any different?

“I really hope you win this.” You finally say, offering half a smile before you push through those doors and don’t look back, disappearing into the darkening shadows outside.

“Damn it.” Nancy curses, resting a hand on her hip and the other on a table.

“What happened between you guys?” Robin asks into the silence and Nancy looks up.

“What do you-”

“I don’t want a vague answer.” She says, still clutching onto the folder pressed against her chest. “She looked terrified. Which, yeah, it makes a lot of sense under normal circumstances. But this was more like PTSD kind of terrified. What the hell happened last year that no one’s telling me?”

The silence left Robin in the dark, Nancy’s features pouring over in restrained emotion.

By the time you had dug out your keys with trembling hands, you could feel the prickling of tears threaten to spill at any moment. They had no right to ask that of you. Especially not Nancy. She was there last year, she knows why you left. And yet again, none of them were listening to you.

You sat in your grandad’s old armchair for about an hour, a book resting on your lap but it remained untouched. It would just be another distraction, another reason to pretend like nothing was wrong. To stop yourself from remembering, feeling.

It’s why you went to Stanford, really. You didn’t care about journalism like you used to. But the work load was almost unbearable, which meant that every waking moment would need to be dedicated to studying. If you didn’t occupy your mind, you’d have to relive last year.

“Hi, sweetie.” Gran says as she enters the room, a shopping bag in one hand. You hadn’t even heard her key in the door. “Did you see your friends?”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, setting aside the book and leaning forward.

“What did you kids get up to?” She asks before quickly disappearing into the kitchen to set down her groceries. When she returns, you have your head in your hands.

You can feel her fingers gently pry away your hands as she takes the chair opposite you, smiling like she already knew what was going through your head. Looking at her, the way her eyes were glazing over, you felt so selfish. You had left to escape everything that happened last year, and you had left her for months to deal with it all alone. Here you were, wallowing in self pity because your friends hadn’t been there for you when you needed them, and it turns out you’re doing the exact same thing to her.

“I’m so sorry.” You say, wiping away the tear that trickles down your cheek. “I should have stayed with you and Grandad.”

“What?” She frowns lightly, shaking her head. “Darling, no. All we ever wanted for you was to get out into the world, find something that made you happy.”

“But I’m not happy.” You express, catching a sob that threatened to escape. “I just wanted to get away, get out of Hawkins. I wasn’t even thinking about it, I- I just couldn’t…”

Her hand suddenly finds your own, squeezing it tight.

“It’s okay.” She says and you lift your head up. She continued smiling, but it was much sadder now. “No one can expect you to move on from what happened last year as quick as that.”

“And what if I never move on?”

“It’s not about moving on.” She smiles. “It’s about acceptance. It’s about holding onto the memory because you cherish it, not because you are haunted by it.”

The clock in the distance could be heard counting the seconds as you sit there in silence. She was right, as per usual. You weren’t letting yourself feel. You should be embracing the fact that you still had her. Even with all Hawkins has been through, you still had her.

Your heart pangs with panic. She was still here.

“I should be getting to bed-”

“Come with me.” You offer suddenly and she raises her eyebrows.

“To Stanford?” She says as if it were absurd.

“I’m serious. Let’s move away, start fresh. We’ll find somewhere new, Gran. Please.” You beg and she offers a smile, capturing your hand by placing another on top.

“Hawkins is my home. It always has been. I was born here, I met the love of my life here. I watched my little one grow up and, when he had little ones of their own, I watched them grow up too. This is where my family is. I… I can’t leave.”

“No, don’t worry, I’ll get it.” You say, smiling. “You should get some rest.”

Your heart wrenches. If only she knew what you did. About what really happens in Hawkins, what lurks there in the dark. She can’t stay here, not when you know it isn’t safe. Not when she’s all you have left.

Three knocks echo out from the front door, and Gran shifts in her seat, quickly glancing at the clock. Who would be here at this hour?

“Thank you.” She stands with you, squeezing your hand as she dropped it. “Try and get some rest.”

You wait until she’s heading up the stairs and out of earshot before you rush to the door, gently brushing aside the small curtain and frowning at the silhouette. It wasn’t who you had expected.

The door is open barely four inches before she starts talking at you, ring-donned hands clasped together.

“Look, I know we’ve literally just met. And I probably- no, I definitely don’t have the right to ask you to stay with us, but we’re basically alone right now. Half of us are in California, we don’t have any connections in the sheriff’s department anymore. Everyone who would know what to do is gone, and you’re kinda the only person left who can help us. I get so much happened to you last year and I- I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but if there’s even a tiny part of you that wants to do this, then please listen to it. Please.”

Robin didn’t know what she was expecting when she left the school. Her feet had taken her further than her mind was planning, but she knew she had to find you. Max was in trouble, and they were all way in over their heads to not have help. Nancy refused to bother you any further, and she understood, she really did, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. This was bigger than all of them, bigger than everyone.

“Robin?” You say, brows scrunched together in surprise. She thins her lips.

“Sorry to just blurt that all out, but I didn’t know if you were just gonna slam the door on me- or maybe I’d forget what I wanted to say.” She explained, feeling the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you. “Max is in trouble.”

“What?” You sobered at the thought, leaning closer to her. Then, in a moment of split decision, you glance back up the stairs before stepping outside and closing the door behind you. “What happened?”

“We found a connection between all the victims.” Robin tries to explain, and you noticed how expressive she was with her hands. “Basically, Max has the same symptoms as the rest of them, and she’s, like, 100% sure she’s next of Vecna’s kill list.”

“Is she okay?” You ask, and Robin can see the desperation behind your eyes.

“Yeah. Shaken up, but she’s fine. For now.” She clears her throat, a pleading look as she stares at you. “We need to find Vecna as fast as we possibly can before he can get to her. I… I know about what happened last year. About your dad.”

You seem taken aback by her knowledge, eyes darting down to your shoes.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all of this behind.” She sympathises, and she let herself be much calmer than she felt. “But I’m asking you if you’ll help us.”

Your heart was aching as you wipe your sweaty palms against your jeans, barely even feeling the cold rush of wind hitting your bare arms. You had meant what you said earlier; you couldn’t do this again. It took everything in you to move out of Hawkins, go to college and live a life the person you loved the most couldn’t do anymore.

But you were currently stood in front of a door. And behind that door, was the last person you had left, and she wasn’t planning on leaving her home any time soon. As it turned out, fleeing wasn’t an option for everyone else.

“I’ll do it.”

Robin blinks, studying you for any ounce of uncertainty. You looked deadly serious.

Maybe, just maybe, with you by their side, they were taking down Vecna after all.

taglist: @kryztalglear @officerrrfriendly @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean @spacedoutdaydreamer @em16cor @endurexxsurvive

[if you see your name highlighted in pink, it means that tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! i am trying to figure out the reasons behind this but it could be as simple as visibility settings so please check that <3]

[munson-blurbs]

feel free to totally ignore this if it sounds weird! but, could you maybe write some hurt/comfort where post-vecna!eddie has been gaining weight (injury recovery, depression, adjusting to eating again, etc.) and feels insecure about it? and the reader comforts him? thank you either way! i love your writing.

I hope y'all enjoy this 💚 a lil friends-to-lovers, perhaps?

Warnings: weight gain, body image issues mentions of injuries/Eddie's experience in the Upside Down, depression/mental health issues, language

WC: 1.5k

--

Eddie squints, wincing, as sunlight streams through his window. His clock reads 7:05, which means he’s gone another night without sleeping. He prefers staying awake these days, because sleep often brings nightmares of dark red clouds, screeching demobats, and your tear-stained cheeks as you screamed out for help over his pale body.

A sugary smell permeates the air, and he realizes that you must’ve snuck out of bed to make breakfast. You’ve been spending the night ever since he’d come home from the hospital. Initially, you’d slept in a sleeping bag on the floor until his wounds healed enough. “I’m a restless sleeper; wouldn’t wanna hurt you, Eds,” you’d insisted, but after two months, you reluctantly agreed to join him in his tiny twin bed. 

He sits up with a grimace. All he wants is to curl up under the covers and shut out the world. He’s exhausted, but not just from a lack of sleep. It seems like merely existing tires him out now. His body still aches four months after Spring Break, but the pain goes beyond the injuries. It’s like he’s hurting from the inside out.

Maybe if I actually get dressed, change outta these goddamn sweatpants, I’ll feel a little better, he thinks. It’s a longshot, but he figures it’s worth a try. He rummages through the crumpled clothes in his dresser drawer until he finds his favorite pair of jeans. Sliding the light-wash denim over one leg, then the other, he hoists them around his waist to fasten the button.

But it won’t close.

“What the fuck?” he hisses through gritted teeth. No, these fit back in March. He remembers, because you told him that he looked good in them. He’d felt like he was walking on clouds for the rest of the day. Eddie looks down at his waist now, noticing some pudge where his stomach was once flat. 

“Son of a bitch!” he groans. It’s louder than he intended, and his cheeks redden as you burst through the bedroom door. 

“Are you okay?” you ask breathlessly. There’s pancake batter smeared on your hands and you’re still in your pajamas, but Eddie thinks you’ve never looked cuter. 

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” he mutters, trying to cover his waistband with his shirt. 

Your worried look dissipates as you breathe a sigh of relief. “You scared me; I thought you fell or something!” Though your tone is scolding, the smile on your lips indicates that you’re not actually angry. “So what’s wrong? Or are we just swearing to ourselves for fun now?”

Eddie briefly considers lying, but you’ve been friends too long for him to pull one over on you. “My pants are too tight,” he admits sheepishly. He can’t even say they shrunk in the wash, because he hasn’t worn them in months. 

“That’s all?” You wrinkle your nose in confusion. “That’s not a big deal. If you’re feeling up to it, we can go to the Gap and get some more. They always have a sale going on.”

His eyes widen at your indifference. “The pants aren’t the problem here!” he protests. “My body’s, like, betraying me, or some shit. First these ugly scars, then the soreness from the fall, and now this!” He gestures to his undone button and little potbelly before sitting back down on the bed and letting out the most self-pitying moan you’ve ever heard. 

You giggle involuntarily, clapping a hand over your mouth as quickly as you can. “I’m sorry, Eds. I’m not laughing at you.” You plop down next to him and put your arm around his shoulders. “The scars are gonna fade, and the pain will go away gradually. That’s what all the doctors said, right?”

Eddie looks down at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbles. “But what about—“

“Gaining weight?” You cut him off, and he nods. “Remember when you first came home, and you weren’t eating anything? How scared we were that you would just waste away?” It was a sight you’d never forget. Your best friend, normally full of energy and charisma, half-alive and covered in his own blood. The way your own voice warbled as you pleaded with him to stay with us, hang on. Seeing him with tubes in his nose, torso wrapped in bandages as he lay still in his hospital bed. He’d slept most of the time, waking up occasionally to cry. And now that he was home, he never left the trailer. You’d probably never have seen him again if you weren’t practically living there, too.

“That’s clearly not an issue anymore,” he huffs, trying and failing to button his jeans. “‘S like, just when I thought I couldn’t get any uglier…”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked. “Eddie Munson, you’re not ugly, you’ve never been ugly–not even when your head was shaved,” you add with a grin, “and you’ll never be ugly.” You take his hand in yours. “Think about it: if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t want me calling myself ugly.”

“‘Course not,” Eddie murmurs. “I’d still think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.” His lidded eyes snap open at the confession. “I-I mean…”

“And I think you’re the most handsome man in the world,” you tell him, and it’s the truth. You’d never admitted it to him before, but his smile always made you smile, and you couldn’t deny the way your stomach flip-flopped when he gazed into your eyes with his own brown orbs.

“You do?” Eddie questions incredulously. “Even…even like this?”

“The only thing I’d change is…I just wish you were happy. Happy Eddie is my favorite Eddie.”

He pauses, gnawing on his lower lip. “Sometimes,” he starts, “I feel like I’ll never be happy again.” Tears trickle down his cheek as he rests his head on your shoulder. “I want to be happy; and I feel little, like, pings of it every once in a while, y’know? Like when you cook for me, or comb my hair, but then it’s just replaced with guilt.”

“Guilt?”

“Yeah, like, I feel bad that you have to do all this stuff for me. And I can’t do anything for you in return.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “‘M fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Please stop saying that about yourself.” You feel yourself choke up and you swallow a sob. “You’re brave, and wonderful, and sweet, and beautiful. Scars or no scars; weight gain or no weight gain.” You continue, rubbing his back with your palm. “I feel frustrated knowing that no matter what I do, I can’t take away your sadness.”

“‘S like, it never leaves. And I can’t even talk to someone about it, unless you know any shrinks who specialize in post-alternate dimension trauma.” He offers a sliver of a smile, and it warms your heart.

“How’re you funny even when you’re dealing with so much?” you hum, running your fingers through his hair. The two of you sit there like that for a few moments before you pull away. “I should get back to making breakfast,” you say finally, though you truly don’t want to move.

“Wait,” Eddie blurts out, and you turn your head to look at him. “Did–did you mean what you said earlier? About me being handsome?” He blushes at his own statement.

“I believe my exact words were ‘most handsome man in the world,’” you tease, “and, yes, I meant it, Eds.”

He takes a second to absorb what you’ve just said. “I meant what I said, too. About you being the most beautiful girl in the world. Felt that way for a long time, actually.” He shifts his body slowly and brings his hand to cup your cheek. “Was gonna ask you on a date, but my plans got kinda…derailed.”

“Me?” you squeak out.

“Yeah, you,” he chuckles lightly. “Just didn’t think you felt the same way.”

You scoot closer to his body. “Can I show you how I feel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you lean into him, parting his plush lips with yours. You’re wrought with nerves, and the kiss is quick, but it feels like your heart’s exploding in your chest.

“You have the best lips,” you tell him, speaking against his mouth, “and the best neck,” you press a kiss right above his collarbone, and you feel him shiver, “and the best tummy.” You swoop down and blow a raspberry into his stomach, making him cover his torso with his hands.

“You know I’m ticklish there!” he whines, but he’s laughing as he says it.

“Oh, are you?” You wiggle your fingers mischievously, but he grabs your wrists before you can make contact.

“I was thinkin’,” Eddie says, tugging on your hands to pull you towards him, “maybe I could take you up on that shopping trip? We could, um, go get something to eat after?” His lips meet your forehead, and a tingle shoots through your spine. “‘S not exactly how I pictured our first date, but…”

“I’d love that,” you jump in, peppering his face with kisses. “Wanna help me make breakfast first?”

“Depends.” He’s smiling from ear to ear. “Can we put chocolate chips in the pancakes?”

--

[mrcleanheichou]

Wolves Are (Not) Scary Chapter 13

Pairing: Werewolf!BTS X Female human reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: There’s smut in this chapter :) some brief pussy eating and doggy style (wolfie style?) also Jimin is a bit of a jerk.

Word count: 3,028

Summary: All Y/N wants to do is find her creativity and motivation but she finds 7 werewolves instead.

Author note: Everyone please get your tomatoes ready to throw and boo at me because I’m a liar and I deserve it. Remember when I said this chapter was gonna be 5k? Welp that didn’t happen. BUT this is my longest chapter. The dang smut scene tripped me up so if it seems rushed please know I threw in the towel for my own sanity and said fuck it Joonie is a 2 pump chump today.

Taglist: @dustyinkpages @thickemadame @moonlitehunter @thedarkwinterrose @momoriki @iistrangers @openup-yourmind @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @lovelyseokjinnie @scuzmunkie @bjoriis @maddypool31 @tfkp0p @blubearxy @stealth-liberal @potaetopic @zae007live @totallynoalien @dvoz-writes @purplelady85 @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @blushyrawrz @skyys-universe @harmonie-writes @gamer-mask @savagemickey03

Chapter 12 //  Chapter 13 // Chapter 14

1 year ago

If you had to pick a favorite room in the spacious house your pack resides in it would be the library. Before you came along it was mainly Namjoon’s refuge away from the rest of the members. After many years together the younger wolves have learned that if Namjoon is reading to only bother him when its an emergency. Reading and gaining knowledge on many different subjects is one of life’s many pleasures for Namjoon. Getting lost in a good book lets him escape his many responsibilities even if it’s for a short while.

That all changed when you showed up. Namjoon saw you fall in love with his sacred dwelling and he let you carve your own little space within it. He reluctantly let some of his philosophy books be replaced with your beloved romance novels. With you spending a large portion of your time within the space eventually led to the three younger wolves coming in too. That lasted a week until the alpha’s patience wore thin and once again banished them from the room. It may or may not have been partly due to Jimin’s constant pestering to read the smut scenes in your novels with you. You offered to lend him your Kindle so he could read the ‘Ice planet Barbarians’ series on his own but he said it wasn’t the same without you.

In the relative darkness the only light emanating in the room is from a tall floor lamp next to the comfortable red suede sofa you’re sharing with Hoseok. Who was currently softly snoring, splayed out on his back in wolf form, paws in the air and head your lap. You ran a hand through the thick tan fur on his chest and held a thick vampire romance book in the other. You were finally getting to the ‘spicy’ scene after 500 pages of slow burn enemies to lovers when a hand on your shoulder made you jump slightly.

“Hey, it’s late lets get you to bed.”

“What time is it?” You ask stretching your arms and groaning. Time always seems to fly when you read.

“Midnight” He answered while helping you carefully maneuver out from under Hoseok. Learning from experience that the older wolf does not like being woken up and will curse out anyone indiscriminately for doing it.

Once your other mate was situated you followed Namjoon up towards your room.

The house you lived in was huge so every original member had their own bedroom. The royal pack allocates housing funds based on amount of pack members. The bigger the pack the bigger the housing fund was. They often build houses for packs before they’re even finished being formed. For as inclusive the moon goddess is, it seemed the court hasn’t upheld that value when it comes to making space for potential children. Adoption is definitely a thing in the werewolf world, and many packs that are all the same sex do still have parental desires. Unfortunately room isn’t often accounted for them. The sale of original pack houses is permitted it’s just a long process but many packs seeking extra space will jump through hoops to buy and trade housing to get what they desire. Often child free packs are willing to move or packs that decide to relocate to other cities or countries all together. It’s like the human world with more (annoying) rules.

All of that meant there was no room for you in the beginning. Instead of packing up and buying a new place that no one including you wanted to do, Jimin ended up giving up his room and voluntarily moving in with Taehyung. The pair sleep together the majority of the time anyway.

Although often the members preferred to sleep with a varying number of other members together rather than alone, but having a personal space to themselves where they can be alone is also important. Since you were human and not used to pack living they all definitely wanted you to be able to have your space as to not overwhelm you.

You always wondered how the higher ups got a hold of so much money. Yoongi said that they do lots of dealings with Governments around the world and some officials were actually werewolves. They operate behind the scenes and take steps to make sure human and werewolf relations remain civil.

The public may not know of their existence but the international elites and the chaebols of Korea know of their existence. Back in the age of royal dynasties many kings used werewolves as close body guards. Even when not shifted a werewolf is more powerful than a normal human. Enhanced hearing and sense of smell were huge advantages which made their existence beneficial and solidified the safety of the werewolf species as a whole.

Opening your covers and helping you into bed Namjoon gave you a quick kiss before turning to head out.

“Can you sleep here tonight?” you ask grabbing his wrist before he could leave, giving your best attempt at ‘puppy dog eyes’ you could muster.

He let out a fake exasperated sigh and an exaggerated eye roll before flashing a dimpled smile, “I guess.”

You let out a noise of triumph before scooting over to make room for the large man. He got comfortable wrapping himself around you from behind and relaxed his seemingly always tense muscles. After thirty minutes you could tell by his breathing that he wasn’t asleep. Knowing he was awake was keeping you awake so you deciding to do what you know could have any man sleeping afterwards.

Starting to slowly push your hips back into his you smirked when his hold on you tightened.  A few well practiced circles had resulted in his unmistakable hardness poking into your butt.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon asked in a voice that implied he knew exactly what you were doing.

“I’m helping you sleep.”

“You’re doing the exact opposite,” He teased while moving to give you room to lay on your back. He snorts as he sees you rush to pull down your pajama shorts and underwear. “Someone’s eager.”

“It’s not everyday I get to have my alpha like this.” You say as you open your legs for him to slot between them. This causes Namjoon to frown and lean down to look in your eyes and gently stroke your cheek.

“Do you feel like I neglect you?”

“No, no it’s not like that,” You stammered trying unsuccessfully to get Namjoon to back up so you could sit up. Giving up when he wouldn’t budge you sighed, “It’s just that… I know I've already been here for a while so I should be used to it by now but I’m still trying to get used to the whole pack thing.   Living with seven men with different personalities it sometimes feels like someone gets lost in the fray. I feel guilty for spending so much time with the maknaes and not enough with everyone else. When you came home and I went upstairs with Hobi I did feel bad for going with him.”

Namjoon frowns a little before moving back and grabbing a pillow to place under your hips to elevate them to his liking.

“Let me see you.” He says rubbing your outer thighs as you rush to pull down your shorts and panties. The articles of clothing were unceremoniously tossed behind him landing near your dresser. He uses his fingers to spread open your lower lips and stares at your warm inviting hole as if he wanted to eat you whole like the big bad wolf he is. “Pretty girl.”

You sigh happily as he scoots down the bed to lay on his stomach and then licks a slow swipe up your pussy ending at your clit. The feeling had your spine arching up off the bed as Namjoon’s lips create a delicious toe curling suction. “Oh shit!”

As an alpha Namjoon liked to be in control at all times, that included during sex. You found that out the first time you tried to straddle him. It’s in his nature to take that as a dominance challenge. That action resulted in one of the roughest fucking in your life. You finally found out what Ariana Grande was talking about in the ‘Side to Side’ song. You also learned that Jimin loved doing that to him because he was a little glutton for punishment.

Unfortunately alphas can be exhausting to deal with as a whole and practice a bit of toxic masculinity pushed by their inner wolves. So keeping that in mind you were actively trying to not tangle your hand in his hair and grind onto his face. You were gonna get what he gave you, the way he wanted to give it and you were going to like it.

That was the complete opposite of Yoongi who loves for you to use use him to get off. If asked you’d say the best orgasm you’d ever had was the time he had you sit on his face while Jin sucked him off. All of his needy whines and groans against your pussy while he forced your hips down in a vice like grip. In the beginning you hesitated when asked to ‘suffocate’ him with your thighs. That wasn’t something you had ever done with your human exes but you grew to love it and crave it. He was the best out of your mates at eating you out and according to Taehyung he was the best cock sucker too. Yoongi called it his ‘Tongue technology’.

Namjoon working two fingers into you and immediately finding your G spot, brought you out of your thoughts. “Focus on me. Or I’ll leave you here.” He growls lowly.

A shiver runs through you in not a wholly unpleasant way. His attempts at using his alpha voice always got on your nerves except when in bed. This is the only time you willingly submit to the werewolf.

“No, please fuck me alpha.” You whine as he removes his fingers only to add a third in an attempt to prepare you for what was to come. It’s always futile, no matter how many times you have sex with any of the pack members you always have to psych yourself up in preparation of taking their knots. Over the past few years it’s definitely gotten easier but when it comes to you they all know to try to ease it in slow unlike the animalistic way they shove their knots into each other. The human body just wasn’t built to take a toll like that, much to your annoyance.  

Namjoon gets off the foot of the bed to remove his pajama pants revealing the fact he was going commando. Giving his large leaking erection a few strokes as he waited for you to turn over onto your hands and knees. Another alpha quirk you’ve learned is his favoritism of this submissive position.

“Back up,” he commanded gesturing to the edge of the foot of the bed. “Good girl.”

Aligning himself with your entrance Namjoon pushes in his girth all the way in with a groan. Rubbing circles on the sides of your waist where he was holding onto you he stayed still giving you time to adjust. You turned your head back after a minute and nodded to him to give the okay to start moving but he didn’t.

“Move, please!” you whined desperately.

“No, I’m tired.” Namjoon says with a smirk. “If you want it you do the work.”

He lets go of you and proceeds to fold his arms at his chest waiting for your compliance. With a pout you start moving your hips starting off slow before picking up rhythm. You give one good slam back which causes the headboard of your bed to smack the wall loudly.

“It’s late, don’t wake anyone up.” Namjoon chastises with a light smack to your ass.

You roll your eyes but decide not to argue. Your obedience was rewarded as you felt your alpha lean over you with one hand on the bed and the other slipping between your thighs.

“Oh fuck!” you gasp and lose the strength to hold yourself as he expertly plays with your clit. Namjoon enjoys the way your velvety walls clamp down on him as you orgasm. He takes this opportunity to ease his knot in and spill his hot cum with a loud drawn out groan of your name.

You were both flying high on an endorphin rush, it was over quickly but you didn’t care. Namjoon stayed holding himself up trying not to crush under his weight.  He very much didn’t want to move because every movement pulled on his sensitive knot. Knowing you would be stuck like this for twenty minutes he wanted to be comfortable. Wincing, he pulls you up to awkwardly carry you back to the top of the bed.

You settled in under the blankets with him spooning you from behind. Even though you were tired you still couldn’t sleep. The feeling of his knot throbbing was distracting so you decided to ask a question you’ve been thinking for a long time.

“Hey Joonie? Can I ask you a question?”

The man just hummed a noise that you took to mean yes.

“How did you become the alpha?”

“Every last full moon of the year there’s a large festival where all of the packs in the country that have young wolves who have turned eighteen converge. It lasts the full three days of mandatory shifting. Pack members are added to each forming pack every time the festival comes around and the minute the future alpha is found for each pack they are immediately put in charge. I wasn’t the original alpha it was actually Hoseok hyung who was chosen. Since he’s older than me he was added to the pack before me.”

Your eyebrows went up, It takes a special type of werewolf to run a pack and you couldn’t envision Hobi doing that. Although the older wolf definitely kept the younger three wolves in check he was really sweet the majority of the time.

“When my pack was chosen for me after five other wolves I met Jin hyung and Yoongi hyung and him. We were making plans with our respective families when all of a sudden the moon witches made an announcement that there was to be an alpha switch. It was actually a bit of a controversy at the time. It’s rare for the moon goddess to change her mind. The witches thought it might be because of my lineage. I come from a family line with three alphas. My great grandfather, grandfather and father were all alphas of their packs.”

“Was Hobi mad about it?”

“He was definitely resentful, he rarely spoke to me the first couple months I lived in the pack house but he eventually got over it. He has since told me multiple times he is so relieved it’s not him because he feels like he wouldn’t be as patient and might have strangled the maknaes by now.”

You laugh at that, Namjoon’s breath hitched as your core squeezed him rhythmically.  Satisfied with his answer you tried again and succeeded in falling asleep. You didn’t feel when Namjoon’s knot released or when he got up and cleaned you up with his discarded shirt before settling back behind you and drifting off as well.

Present Day

“None of you can look me in the eyes and tell me you’re okay with this! You know what’s gonna happen to them!” Taehyung yells exasperatedly at the rest of the wolves who were sitting in silence in the spacious hotel room. The tension so thick all it took was this outburst to make it boil over.

“It’s what Namjoon wants so drop it.” Hoseok says lowly as he lays on one of the two king sized beds, stroking Yoongi’s fur. The older wolf was still transformed and unconscious after Yoona fixed his arm. The witch gave him a potion to stay in that state to aide in healing.

“Drop it? You expect me to drop it?! How can you be so fucking heartless?” Taehyung’s voice shakes as he’s fighting to stop from breaking into a sobbing mess. “You’re the one who could talk the most sense into him.”

Hoseok drops his gaze and turns his head away.

“Please just try!” Taehyung grabs onto the older wolf’s shoulders shaking him and finally letting the tears escape.

“Taehyung,” Jimin grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him away. “You’re thinking with your heart and not your brain. Jungkook is dangerous, it may have been an ‘accident’” he emphasizes with air quotes, “ but this has been a running theme with him. He is not a pup anymore, he’s had years to start acting like an adult and he can’t manage to do that so now we’re all suffering for it. It was only a matter of time before he fucked up enough to get unmated.”

Taehyung looked at him incredulously not believing his ears that Jimin could just say those things about their other mate. Jimin pushes him back into the wall and looking into his eyes with their foreheads almost touching.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Face.” Taehyung snarls.

“I’m right and you know it. You just can’t handle the truth. Both Jungkook and Y/N are detrimental to the health of this pack. She continuously babies him and feeds into his behavior. Our alpha knows what’s best for us, it’s about time you realize that, fall in line or get out.”

“Jimin! Knock it off.” Jin growls walking out of the bathroom. “You’re not helping.”

“You know what?” Taehyung snaps, “I’m leaving.”

Pushing away from Jimin and bumping into the smaller wolf’s shoulder he practically runs out of the room completely ignoring Jin calling out for him to wait. He knew the minute the door slammed behind him he might have made a mistake but he just couldn’t live with Namjoon’s decision. Even if it means going through the unmating process too.

[cricketnationrise]

Congratulations on 500 followers omg you definitely deserve it!! I love, love, LOVE your fics I swear your writing never fails to make my day!!<3

16:04

Anywhere in the brownstone

Percy Okonjo

(I'm ThePlayfulFairy on ao3)

PEZ MY BELOVED

thanks for the excuse to write some more of him, with bonus Henry friendship because i love that too.

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

4:04pm, the brownstone

Now

“Henry, I’ve found it. I’m sending you the address right now, so get your royal backside in gear and get here as soon as bloody possible.”

Pez sends the voice note with a distracted tap, not taking his eyes off the facade of the building in front of him.

Then

“What do you think about me helping out more with the shelters?” Henry’s wringing his hands—not playing with the signet ring as usual, although Pez has his own private suspicions about where that particular heirloom fidget toy has gone—which means he’s nervous.

“You’re already donating every cent you can get away with, Hazza—”

“I mean— What if I were more hands on?”

The lightbulb goes off in Pez’s head. “The New York shelter. You want to move to The States.”

Henry ducks his head with a blush. “It would be a good way to give back more immediately than donating could ever be.”

“And you want to be closer to your strumpet.”

Henry blushes again, but doesn’t deny it. “It would be enough to be in the same time zone more than a few times a year.”

Pez pulls his best friend in for a fierce hug. “Then let’s make it happen, babes. The Brooklyn location will need a Director once it’s done being renovated.”

Now

A sleek SUV with blacked-out windows pulls up to the curb where Pez is waiting. He bounces on his heels while the PPO’s do a sweep of the building. When they return with the all-clear, Pez bounds forward to haul Henry out of the car.

“See? Isn’t it bloody perfect? The whole building is up for sale—not on the general market, my realtor tipped me off that the current owner is looking to move out of the city.”

“Pez…” Henry’s speechless, gazing up at the perfectly maintained brickwork and welcoming front stoop nestled among the rest of the brownstones on the block.

Then

Hazza: PEZ PEZ I GOT PERMISSION DISGRUNTLED, BACKED INTO A CORNER, RELUCTANT PERMISSION BUT PERMISSION NONETHELESS I’M ALLOWED TO MOVE TO NEW YORK

Auntie Pezza: [excited.gif] [muchexcite.pic] [sqealing_charlotte.gif] HEN YOU BEAUTIFUL BEAN SPROUT YOU’RE EVEN MULTIPLE TEXTING IN ALL CAPS I’M SO BLOODY PROUD

Hazza: The situation did seem to call for it. I guess Alex has been rubbing off on me.

Auntie Pezza: HENRY I’M—

Hazza: Wait.

Auntie Pezza: I’M SURE HE IS 

Hazza: Don’t. I beg you to not.

Auntie Pezza: IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE

Hazza: I really should know better by now.

Auntie Pezza: 🍆💦🍆💦🍆💦 You really should.

But seriously you should send me whatever draconian security measures your new abode will have to accommodate and i’ll get someone looking asap

Now

Pez escorts Henry up the steps and into the brownstone with unrestrained glee, delighting at the awe and dawning excitement on Henry’s face as he looks around.

Each room they pass through is well taken care of, and clearly well-loved. Nothing is pristine; doorways and floors and furnishings bear the hallmarks of age and growing children. There’s heaps of windows letting in natural light, catching the edge of Henry’s smile as he drags his fingers along countertops and railings. Henry doesn’t interrupt Pez’s monologue about the specifics as they climb the stairs to the top floor, content to listen as Pez rambles on about bedroom size and how long it's been since the bathrooms were updated. He doesn’t speak at all, in fact, until they get to the main suite.

“Oh,” Henry gasps, staring at the bay window overlooking the street. Pez watches him move toward it as if drawn by magnets, one hand already reaching out to stroke the window frame reverently. Pez congratulates himself—he knew Henry would love the rest of the house, but that the window would sell him completely.

“I’ll take it,” Henry says, resolute. He’s sat on the cushion in the window now, looking down at the people bustling on the sidewalk below. He looks at home there, like the house was designed with this moment in mind.

“I’ll get my realtor on it,” Pez says, already texting furiously. “And I know a few contractors from the shelter that could do the security updates the Crown will insist on and—”

“Pez.”

“Hmm?” He pauses and looks up at his best friend at the sound of his name.

“Thank you.”

Pez crosses the room, pulls Henry up and into a tight hug. “It’s my genuine pleasure, Henry.” He squeezes a little tighter before pulling back, smirking. “Reckon Alex will cry when you tell him?”

[zoetic-tome]

Prompt 20: A Challenge

Prompt: Duel - FFXIV Write 2024  Characters: Aramis, Briardien (@roses-and-grimoires) Content Warning: 

It had meant to be a casual conversation about the expansion of business. That was, at least, how Aramis had planned to treat it. He still wasn’t entirely certain what he had said in the wake of the now furiously flying words that were crossing over the table he and his cohorts had opted to meet at. 

His was the business of transport of goods. This man’s, the sale of other goods. How they had ended up at a crossroads where Aramis, unseeing, recoiled from the strike of cloth across his face, was startling. It was a formal challenge. And he wondered for only a moment, if the man angrily and almost coldly challenging him to a duel had forgotten about his infirmity because he continually turned his head to track their voices.

“I wish to challenge you, Baron Xavalien!” The incensed man was still near to shouting, puffing himself up for the overblown nature of his issuance. Surely the Baron would step wisely back from this. 

“I accept.” The baron intoned, lowering his glasses down from where they perched to hide his pale, infirmed eyes. The red mark on his face was almost barely visible behind the fringe of blonde hair, and he lifted a hand to brush over that cheek. Not far from his side, the Baron’s right hand man stood, staring wordlessly. It was to a credit that he didn’t step forward to intervene on his master’s behalf.

“Of course, as one who cannot fight, I shall exercise my right for any such matter of combat.” Aramis continued. “Briardien?” There was the distinct sense that this was a formality, calling his name aloud. And this time, the man stepped forward, his expression a mask of glacial calm.

“Yes, my Lord?” None of this is what the man had expected when he made that challenge. Surely Aramis would understand his limitations and refuse. Apologize and make him a more lucrative offer. Something more beneficial. It was the only reason he’d challenged him. But instead, he watched as Aramis lowered his hand from his face and curled his knuckles against the tabletop in front of him, rapping it once.

“I name Briardien, as my champion.” Something hard had crept into Aramis voice, and the man paled, though the blind nobleman did not see it. “I am done for the evening, gentlemen.” There was something final about those words, a dismissal that the others didn’t miss. Without skipping a beat, Aramis stood, and within bare seconds, the cane he had entered with found its way once more into his hands, while his manservant stepped back again. 

“Fury bless you all.” Purposeful strides and the glide of his cane along the floor carried him from the room as the man who had challenged him, and indeed, the remaining circle at the table exchanged glances and furious whispered conversation. It seemed contrary to the rumors Alexandre had always spread, his younger brother wasn’t actually a man to be trifled with.

Now they just had to pray his manservant wasn't as capable as he looked, or they might be in trouble indeed.

[samutoru]

my love is mine all mine — 0.3 : this side of me

pairing : akutagawa x afab!reader | warnings : none

a/n - this story is HEAVILY based off of horimiya ! if this makes you uncomfortable, please DO NOT read this smau :) also in this smau, reader goes by Y/n Nakajima!

previous | next

chapter below the cut ! | taglist is OPEN !

So we feel the same? I guess that makes the two of us? You placed the glasses of tea onto the table infront of Atsushi and Akutagawa, but Akutagawa started to speak again. "It kinda feels like 'This time is just for me' That's the type of feeling that I get," He said as he smiled.

akutagawa left half of his body fall off the couch, "i'm never going to another sale event....." akutagawa complained.

"yeah but you went and brought 3 cartons! that's incredible actually, i was only expecting you to bring one," You giggled as you watched Akutagawa gather himself and sit on the floor with you and Atsushi.

"oh by the way—" akutagawa paused, "uh w-well— i ran into someone by accident—" he continued, as he looked at you nervously.

"huh?! who did you run into??" You asked desperate for an answer. your hands were on your table, leaning in forward waiting for him to tell you.

"that girl you always hangout with— yosano..? i don't know her name, she has short hair and has a butterfly hairclip in her hair,'" he answered.

"oh,"

"are you sure it was yosano? wait— and you met her looking like that??" you asked as you stared at him begging for an answer.

"Yeah but we didn't talk or anything," Akutagawa explained as he chuckled before patting Atsushi's head and leaned back to fix his button up shirt.

what the hell am i thinking?

"for some reason," you paused letting out a sigh,

" i don't want anyone else but me to see this side of you," you continued feeling that wave of relief as soon as you told him.

"sorry! it's nothing really, it's nothing," you exclaimed as you tried to brush if off as nothing. "forget i said anything"

"i'll make us some barely tea" You said as you got up, feeling his pair of eyes follow you to the kitchen.

"aren't you going to eat oni-chan?"

you opened up the fridge to see if you still had any barley tea left, then pouring into into 3 glasses "uh– nakajima-san"

you turned around to akutagawa calling out your name by surprise, "i— feel the same way. when your dressed like that, when your cooking, when you get all loud and when you're angry as well,"

"actually, even the way you wear your hair at home, and uh— i'm kinda into the whole thing you got going on here at home,"

your face flushed pink, "ALRIGHT THATS ENOUGH OUT OF YOU!" You yelled, throwing the nearest pillow at him.

He caught the pillow and chuckled before he could even continue "I don't know, I feel like I wouldn't want anyone to see you this way as well, or to put it— i don't want to share this side of you with anyone else as well."

So we feel the same? I guess that makes the two of us?

You placed the glasses of tea onto the table infront of Atsushi and Akutagawa, but Akutagawa started to speak again. "It kinda feels like 'This time is just for me' That's the type of feeling that I get," He said as he smiled.

"That's the most stupidest thing I've ever heard!" You joked as you sat back down onto the floor across from Akutagawa.

You grabbed Atsushi notebook and wrote "Akutagawa is dumb!" repeatedly on it."Y'know your dumb! dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb dumb!" You spat as you continued writing the same thing over and over again.

"Once Onee-Chan calls you dumb, she won't stop!"

everyone else has a side that they don't want to show to anyone ever, we may have stumbled to eachothers side by chance but—

He leaned his face on one hand and continued again,"Yeah don't get me wrong but, I'm not saying that I don't like this side of you are at school but I think this side of you is more cute,"

"you know what I'm just gonna let you say whatever you want you dummy"

[mariacallous]

A new video appears on the social media network Telegram: footage of the smoking area aboard a large vessel. The curtains are ripped, the lights are broken, and ash and glass litter the floor. “This is how they drink on our ship,” says the young Ukrainian deck worker filming the scene, turning to show the furniture thrown to the corner of the room. “I’m freaked out.”

A Telegram administrator asks the deck worker if he can share the vessel’s name. They change the ship’s name multiple times a year, replies Feliks Bondar, whose own name has been changed for this story. “I don’t even know what name to tell you,” he writes in Ukrainian. “Our ship was originally called Eagle, but in Venezuela, we were Matador and then Shoyo Maru.”

A chorus of similar messages had flooded the chat in recent months: stories of dangerously rundown ships, operators withholding pay, abandoned crew members, and vessel owners changing ship names or manipulating their automatic identification systems (AIS)—the global network meant to help ships recognize each other.

The Telegram group hosts over 8,000 sailors. Some are fresh out of maritime college, others are seasoned captains. All are drawn to the group by a desire to stay safe on the high seas. By telling their stories and naming names—when they can—these sailors have been gathering information about problematic vessels, detailing everything from those with low-quality food to ships where crews often experience pay delays.

But in recent years, as more sailors are finding themselves unwittingly involved in the so-called shadow fleet—smuggling oil for Iran, Russia, or other clients that have been hit by strict sanctions to restrict their sales of oil—the social media whisper network has evolved. As well as a place to find a reputable employer, it’s become something else: a way for seafarers to avoid helping the other side of a war.

Life as a contract seafarer has never been easy. Workers frequently hop from ship to ship, contract to contract, and country to country. But the rise of the shadow fleet—along with Russia’s war in Ukraine—poses a new kind of risk.

About a year and a half ago, in early 2023, Bondar sought out the seafarers’ Telegram network after a particularly troubling gig. Booked to the job by an Ukraine-based crewing agency, Bondar found that the name of his assigned vessel had been painted over, and the AIS was, once again, unplugged. A note on top of the device warned seafarers not to turn it on.

After a six-month voyage smuggling sanctioned oil to China, Bondar says the crew was told its next operation would begin in Koz’mino, Russia. Russia’s most recent invasion of Ukraine had begun while he was at sea and had already been underway for over four months. Bondar and the other Ukrainians on board refused to work smuggling Russian oil. The ship’s operator allegedly fired them all, ditching them at the nearest port in China.

“Nothing will surprise me anymore,” Bondar wrote in the Telegram group. “I have accumulated enough ‘sea stories’ for the rest of my life.”

The war in Ukraine is taking a huge toll, not only on the soldiers on the front lines but on Ukrainians worldwide. Earlier this year, Stella Maris, an English charity committed to seafarer well-being, reported that depression and anxiety are rising among Ukrainian seafarers. These Ukrainians are trying to provide for their families while worrying about the safety of their loved ones, the future of their homeland, tensions with Russian seafarers, and the fear of conscription if they return home. With Russian troops capitalizing on Ukraine’s temporary weapons shortage—caused by the delayed delivery of Western aid—the plight of Ukraine’s people, including its seafarers, shows little sign of letting up.

Bondar’s was not an isolated incident. Recruitment for the shadow fleet is a complex web of crewing agencies, shell companies, and absentee ship owners. Crewing agencies, tasked with finding seafarers to fill contracts, often know very little about the ships, their cargo, or their owners, creating the ideal conditions for deception. But maritime recruitment data shows that at least six Ukrainian crewing agencies have been involved in sourcing seafarers for 10 Russian ships smuggling oil since Russia began its invasion of Ukraine in February 2022.

Mazhnuna Karaca, head of operations at Dese Crew Management, a Ukraine-based crewing agency, says she only found out after the fact that her company had been unintentionally trying to solicit seafarers for illegal Russian oil-smuggling operations.

On February 8, 2023, an advertisement seeking crew for a large oil tanker appeared on maritime job forums. The ship’s official identification number along with anything else that might easily identify the vessel were conveniently absent. Karaca, however, confirmed the ship to be the Danica, a vessel that had been featured on a shadow fleet watch list compiled by United Against Nuclear Iran, a US-based nonprofit, since December 2022.

Ships such as the Danica that transport illegal oil violate sanctions meant to restrict the economic opportunities of nations that threaten global security. In so doing, the vessels’ owners enable those nations to fund their activities.

Dese Crew Management tried to recruit seafarers for the Danica and two other ships that were later revealed to be part of the Russian shadow fleet. Fortunately, says Karaca, her company never succeeded in sending anyone to the Danica or any of the other known shadow fleet ships during their illicit operations. But only “because rumors spread quickly between sailors,” she says.

Each time Dese found a suitable candidate for the Danica, the sailor would abruptly change their mind and refuse to board. That had puzzled Karaca and her staff—until she learned about a different online seafarer whisper network, where details were whirling.

Among seafarers, the company that owns the Danica had a reputation. Digging in deeper, Karaca says the company was originally named Sand & Sea Marine—before it rebranded to Linda Shipping in an attempt to escape its reputation for unsafe conditions, withholding pay, and abandoning crew.

Once aware of the Danica’s and the other ships’ involvement in the shadow fleet, Dese Crew Management promptly blacklisted the vessels. Other crewing agencies, however, have been less helpful. On Telegram, some seafarers even believe that crewing agencies have infiltrated the group to post fake positive reviews about the conditions aboard vessels for which they are trying to recruit crew.

Fortunately, the seafarers aren’t so gullible: “This is automated bots or the manager has told everyone to write for them,” one sailor wrote below a suspiciously positive set of reviews. “They shout so much that they are not scammers that I think the opposite,” another adds with a laugh.

During an assembly in December 2023, the International Maritime Organization (IMO)—the branch of the United Nations tasked with managing international maritime transport—urged member states to do more to derail the shadow fleet.

The IMO has encouraged cooperation between coastal member states to help identify suspicious ship-to-ship transfer operations and AIS manipulation, citing risks to “the safety, well-being, and potential criminalization of the crew.” The European Union has called for similar actions while also announcing new sanctions that require the details of any tanker being sold to a Russian entity—including information about the buyer and seller—to be disclosed publicly, opening the door for governments to step in and block the sale if they think the ship might find its way into the shadow fleet.

So far, international regulators have yet to comment on the role crewing agencies play in supplying workers to the shadow fleet. Future guidance could extend the Maritime Labour Convention, calling on member states to ensure that independent crewing agencies operating within their territory receive the IMO numbers of the vessels they work with before advertising positions to seafarers.

Until the shadow fleet is brought under control, seafarers will continue whispering over the water and doing what they can to keep themselves—and each other—safe.