#sad to see her put up with the owner's shit though.

[outcast-thingz]

....yeah no I think im done there (rant in the tags)

[seniaasaysstuff]

hopelessly devoted; ryomen sukuna (og form) x fem! reader.

not culturally accurate; will have aspects from both chinese culture and japanese culture tho it is based in heian era where sukuna was at the height of his power.

smut next chapter🤭

Ryomen sukuna, the king of curses. This name was known all around and was reasonably feared. People worshiped the man as if he was the second coming of Jesus. Those who were trying to curry favor with the man sent him beautiful women, including many of their daughters as concubines for sukuna.

Sukuna gladly accepted them and frequently visited the beauties. The beauties were all focused on pleasing sukuna and wished to birth him a son and elevate their status to a consort. Sukuna was like a deity to them and they believed pleasing him would bring their family luck and glory.

Now on the day, your parents were about to send you off to emperor sukuna’s palace as a concubine, your vicious sister born from concubine fed you poison in the guise of a nourishing soup.

Your concubine birthed sister thought if you were killed she would take your place and become emperor sukuna’s concubine. She didn’t anticipate that you would wake up and act like nothing happened.

In the modern world, You were drunk and ran out of the club. You didn’t expect to run onto the road in your drunken stupor and get hit by a truck.

When you woke up, you were assaulted with memories of the body you were inhibiting. You felt enraged at the way that low-birth sister and that wretched concubine pei treated you.

Since you were from the principal line, the rest of your concubine-born siblings were envious of you. You received love from your parents, and grandparents and it made them filled with jealousy.

You hated the way the body you were inhibiting was so naive. She treated the siblings like they were all birthed by the same mother. She gave away her clothes, her hairpins, and everything they wanted. You made up your mind that you were about to make these ugly bastards suffer.

You were about to enter the palace as a concubine today and you made up your mind you were going to grab the emperor’s golden thigh and make all that made the previous owner of the body suffer face a fate worse than death.

First, you had to see what kind of golden fingers you had. Since you were a gen z kid who read ancient-era novels and watched anime and Asian dramas you knew you could stir some shit up and wreak havoc.

When you heard from your parents that the man you were being gifted to as a concubine was sukuna who had quite a monstrous appearance it felt like you had hit a jackpot.

Ryomen sukuna was someone you were quite familiar with. Considering the simping you had done when the original designs of his body were released, you were very excited to see the man in the flesh.

Night time was approaching and it was time for you to be sent off in a carriage to your new home with your entire family seeing you off. Your parents and grandmother had tears in their eyes while your grandfather looked sad.

You could tell all of them didn’t want to part with you but this was something that had to be done and you understood that. The carriage reached the palace and you were ushered off to your tiny estate. You brought five dowry maids along with you. You were bestowed with two eunuchs and a maidservant.

You were given a rosewater bath and the maids dressed you up in a sexy negligee and put a huge ass wedding dress on top of that. A huge veil was placed, making you unable to see anything. The maids then left you alone in the room.

The room was dark and the only glimmer of light was from the candles.

You were squirming in excitement. You were about to meet one of your favorite anime characters even though his fraudulent behavior was questionable at times you loved him.

You yawned, feeling bored out of your mind.“When is sukuna coming? Like this is so boring. Been waiting for that guy for so long for fuck sake,” You grumbled loudly. You weren’t aware of your surroundings and failed to listen to the footsteps of someone approaching.

A deep chuckle was heard. “Did I just hear someone calling out for me?” The voice crooned, making you squeak.

“Aww is my concubine shy?” Sukuna spoke in a low voice. You shyly nodded.

“Words love.” He softly said. “M’not shy,” you replied, your face covered in a red hue.

Sukuna removed the veil from your face and gently caressed your cheek. “Your father didn’t lie when he said you were beautiful.” He whispered as he softly tilted your chin upwards.

You gasped, “You think I’m beautiful?” Hearing one of your favorite characters say that you’re beautiful was just sending butterflies down your stomach.

You huffed, “Look at you. You're hotter than anyone on this planet well… except Toji but he doesn’t exist right now.”

You added as a second thought, “Well if you have two dicks and we can count that stomach mouth of yours then you are the best man alive.”

Sukuna let out a deep chuckle. “And pray tell how do you know about my body anatomy?”

You cursed, you should stop babbling. “I have dreamed about you a lot actually.” “Well, shall we make your dreams a reality?” Sukuna teasingly spoke. You nodded your head.

Sukuna wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled your face close to his. He rubbed his thumb on your lower lip. You were feeling a bit mischievous so you stuck your tongue out and licked his thumb.

“Sweetheart just say the word I can give you another thing to lick,” He smirked. “Oh I’d love that,” You winked at him.

“You minx,” He growled. He picked you up and sat you down on his lap, so now you were facing his humongous chest.

His stomach mouth decided to be cheeky and licked your hand, making you jump. “Pfft-” Sukuna chuckled. “Hey! It wasn’t funny!” You whined, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden.

Sukuna kept looking at you with that enamored look in his eyes, it made you feel shy and it made you want to run for the hills. It felt like the man was slowly getting obsessed, and if that obsession grew even deeper? You wouldn’t be able to escape, not that you wanted to.

You caressed his cheek. “You’re a beautiful being sukuna ryomen and being able to meet you was a pleasure,” you whispered.

“C’mere you sweet sweet vixen,” he spoke as he grasped your chin, tilting your head upwards so that you could look at him. His one pair of hands gently ran all over your body. You ground your body against his thigh, a feeling of bliss washing over you.

You gasped as his hand brushed over your waist, slowly and steadily making his way towards the inner of your thighs. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against your lips. His tongue brushed yours, he tasted like sweet sake.

“My sweet girl, you are a treasure,” Sukuna breathed out as he broke away from the kiss, a smile etched on his face as he glanced at you.

[leviathansshadycorner]

Be Realistic ( Leon x reader)

Short blurb because I'm in a mood - Yes based off of that Britney broski audio lmao Warnings: low self esteem reader, body issues ALSO I LOVE ASHLEY GUYS SO DW DW SHES MY BBG SHE JUST SEEMED APPROPRIATE TO USE IN THIS SCENARIO LMAO

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Rebecca and you sat at the edge of the backyard, both of you sprawled out on the lawn chairs. Claire had thrown a summer pool party, deciding it'd be a smart idea to invite people from work. Ada and Claire were chatting among themselves, sipping away at their colorful drinks, Luis urging everyone to put on sunscreen, and Carlos, Jill, and Chris having a competition to see who could do the best cannonball. Among the partygoers was Ashley Graham, the owner of the house in which Claire was throwing the party.

"She's so gorgeous," Rebecca comments, her sunglasses protecting her brown doe eyes.

"I know." You added, the two of you ogling at Ashley's beauty. She wore a cute brown-colored two-piece, with a metal ring in the front that held the top together, which accentuated her complexion and made her appear like a Victoria's Secret model.

"Hey guys, have any of you seen Leon?" Ashley called out, holding the deflated pink dolphin in her hands.

His name made your stomach twist, and you swear you could've felt your heart pang. The way his name rolled off her tongue was so natural, almost melodic.

"Right here." Leon came out from behind the glass sliding doors. He was the only one still in his normal clothes, deciding he was too cool or some shit for the pool party.

The man walked his way along the perimeter of the pool to Ashley. His muscles showing as he carried the air pump to the girl.

"Dumbass, why did you bring it all the way out here?" Chris commented.

"Easy access." Came Leon's response.

"Thanks, Leon!" Ashley beamed, her pouty pink lips curling into a smile that even made your heart flutter. Leon stood close to her, handing his hand out for her to give him the floaty. She complied, and handed it over, their exchange making your eyes lose their gleam.

"My hero." Ashley was excited, her floaty finally being of use.

Rebecca noticed you from the corner of her eyes. She knew about your little huge crush on Leon. The girl watched as your face crept with sadness- dare she say- disappointment.

"Kind of funny how he's still in his normal clothes." She tries to distract you. "Typical Leon."

You looked at her and smiled, "I know. I was hoping to see him shirtless." The two of you giggled, letting out cackles, Ada and Claire looking your way to see what the commotion was about.

"Why don't you go ask him to take it off?" She teased, turning her body to look at you.

"Hmm, maybe." You said boldly, even though you knew you'd rather fall in the pool and drown than do that.

"Bet. You won't." She smirked, challenging you.

"Pftt I totally would." You played yourself up.

"Then go." Rebecca eyes you.

After being riled up by Rebecca, a burst of confidence shot threw you. It couldn't be that hard right? You and Leon bantered and flirted on missions before, so what difference would this make? Plus it was totally appropriate for you to tell him off about his weird pool attire or rather lack of it.

"Watch me Chambers." You told your best friend as you got up from the lawn chair. You were wearing a (top of your choice) that you brought a size too small to make your figure pop. The shorts that you wore were Rebbeca's basketball shorts that she had let you borrow last minute after you changed your mind about wearing a one-piece.

Feeling confident in your tight outfit you began to strut toward Leon and Ashley, the sun's beams hitting the floor making the cement beneath your feet warm. As you approached you caught a glimpse of yourself in the glass sliding doors. Immediately your confidence shrank.

How could you have been so delusional to wear this out? It looked nothing like the way you pictured it in your head. Your model like posture returned to that of a hunchback as you shamefully scurried past Leon and Ashley, walking along the whole edge of the pool, stopping by the coolers to grab two waters, and heading back to a frowning Rebecca.

Leon and Ashley to focused on judging Chris and Carlos' Cannonballs to notice you.

"What happened?" She ask as she noticed the shift in your demeanor.

"Nothing." You sighed handing her a water.

"(Y/n) we already have water." She pushes her sunglasses up to her head as she stares at you. You take a seat on the same lawn chair.

You whined. "Why didn't you tell me I looked like shit?" It was only loud enough for her to hear.

"What you don't though.." She reassures you as she places a hand on your back. "(Y/n) you look hot!"

You didn't believe it. Surely she was only saying this because as your best friend she was obligated to. Your mind flashed back to the image of you in the glass doors. Your hair was flat yet awfully frizzy at the same time, you stood like a toddler who barely knew how to walk, and your legs looked like they were overflowing in Rebecca's tiny shorts. To make things worse you were sure the chlorine from your previous dip had made your skin look all dry.

You looked around for the oversized shirt you came here in. When you found it you shielded your body from the eyes of the partygoers.

"(Y/n).." Rebecca looked concerned.

"I don't know why I even tried talking to him. I probably look like an idiot." You leaned on Rebecca's shoulder as you two blankly watched the Beefy Brazillian splash into the pool.

"Because you like him. And I'm pretty sure he likes you too." She giggled.

"No- he likes Ashley." You said defeated, your emotions coming out now that you'd made yourself vulnerable. You saw the way those two looked at each other. They had something you wish you had with Leon.

"I don't think so." She wraps her arm around your waist. Smirking when she notices Leon glance over at you two.

"I think I'm just gonna accept my Leon-less life." You said leaning into your friend for comfort. Your eyes occasionally glancing over at an out of place Leon as he shouts at Chris.

"What? You're just not gonna try?"

You sighed. "There's really no point Becca."

She scoffed, "(Y/n)- you're totally out of his league. You can get him if you wanted to."

"Becca!" You groaned, your inner teen always came out when hanging out with her. "I can't. Have you seen the way she looks? She can get him!" You laughed, deciding to find the humor in your failed attempts at love.

"Oh (Y/n) you can too!" Her short hair bounced as she shaked you.

You turned around your hand practically digging into 's shoulder as you stared at her dead in the eye. "Be realistic. Be so fucking for real." You shook her back, your voice that of a goblins.

The two of you laughed as you spewed out nonsensical noises.

The conversation then shifted to celebrity crushes, "You think I have a chance with Josh Hutcherson?" Rebecca lays down on the lawn chair.

"Hundred percent yes." You replied, "What about me and Nick cage?"

"I see that." Rebecca smirks.

"Wait. What about me and Da-" Before you could finish your sentence Leon's shadow loomed over you, causing both you and Rebecca to jump.

"What about you and who?" He asked as he took a seat on the lawn chair you were previously on.

Your heart fell to your ass. "Oh my god you scared me." You and Rebecca giggled.

"You're not going in the pool?" Leon asked, leaning back in the chair.

"You know we were about to ask you the same thing. What's up with the clothes Kennedy?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow, she then nudged your shoulder.

"Yeah, lose the shirt, Leon." You said on cue. A fire growing in your stomach.

"I will if you do." He hooked his hands under his grey shirt as he began to pull it off.

Scratch that. The fire in your stomach was now a full-on Volcano.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

S/O is the owner of a cat Cafe. They let Skeleton order stuff and hang out with the 10+ kitties for free anytime.

Undertale Sans - It was fun and all until you came back in the dinner room and found no Sans, nor cats. After looking after him for half an hour, you see him curling up in one of the cat scratching posts, napping in a small ball, and cuddling with the cats. No cats is interesting in any of the customers, they just want to nap with the giant weird-looking skeleton cat.

Undertale Papyrus - He loves to help around the place! Even though he's not working here, most customers think he is because he's taking orders, feeding the kitties, and even doing the dishes. After all, he thinks it's fun. You feel bad he's doing all of this for free and end up making him the co-owner of the cafe.

Underswap Sans - He's not there often, but he's glad the place exists when he's stressed between two shifts at the police station, which is just in front of your cafe. He's there during all his breaks, just to vent and pet the kitties for a few minutes before going back to work.

Underswap Papyrus - He's banned from the Cafe, but that doesn't stop him. Being allergic to cat, staying around a lot of them can be dangerous for Honey. Unfortunately, Honey also loves cats and will do everything he can to sneak inside your Cafe to pet the kitties, sometimes with the craziest disguises. He can't hide for long though, first because he's not exactly small, and second because he starts sneezing non-stop after three minutes and he can't breathe, literally. You put a forbidden sign with his face on the door. So now, Honey stays behind the window, staring at you with sad puppy eyes, all day long until you accept to let him in.

Underfell Sans - Finally! Normal cats that are not trying to kill him! He's taking a break from Doomfanger in your cafe and he finally lets his cat-person side flourish. He actually loves playing with the kitties. And he also loves free food, so it's a winning-winning situation. For him, at least. For your money though...

Underfell Papyrus - The cats all come from the shelter he's working in and he's encouraging people to adopt them. He's glad it's working, and it gives him more time to stay around his S/O so he's very happy. The only problem is Doomfanger, who beats the shit out of you both every evening because you dared to cheat on her. Now you have a routine where you have to change clothes as fast as possible when you get home before Doomie comes to the door to inspect your pants. You can only enter the house if you smell normal.

Horrortale Sans - You stopped counting how many customers asked if they could see the cat purring so loud it makes the walls shake. They're all so confused when you point the big skeleton behind the counter, eating cupcakes with like five cats on his lap and shoulders, making tractor noises. Oak is hanging there all day long. There are food, cute cats, and you, that's all he needs, really. He's keeping himself occupied all day long, playing with the cats or bothering you while you're cooking to have a treat. Just another cat, really.

Horrortale Papyrus - He loves to hang out in your cafe to chat or to bring old people he's taking care of at the retirement house so they can do something else with their day than just watching boring TV games. He loves cats, it's no secret, and he even convinced you to adopt some of the cats from your own cafe because look at them. They're baby. He's a menace.

Swapfell Sans - He comes here when he wants to work in silence, far from his brother's antics. It's hard to resist telling him he looks like a super villain with his suit, old man glasses and distractedly petting a cat like he's plotting against the government. It's hot though. You are working with a nice sight and it could be far worse. You're even sad when he's not here.

Swapfell Papyrus - When you can't hear him, you know it's bad. Like that time he made all the cat's souls blue so they could catch flies on the ceiling. Or that time he puts sunglasses on every cat in the room or that time he made a pile of cats on the head of a kid, or that time he tried to stuff his hoodie with all the cats... Each day is something new. He can't behave, you swear. He never runs out of new ideas somehow.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He doesn't like cats so it's rare he comes. He really must be desperate to have your attention actually if he dares to walk in. You can see him sitting awkwardly in a corner, trying really hard to escape your cats that are somehow all attracted to him. If he finds cat hair on his clothes, he's burning them lol.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - You made him a quiet corner in the cat restroom so he can hang out all day, paint, and have kitties to cuddle with. He's very happy and he's mostly there all day, sometimes randomly getting out of his room to hug you before going back away from the people to watch some Disney movie cuddling with the kitties. He's happy he gets to stay near you all day.

[lovelytsunoda]

you’re on your own, kid // mercedes

summary: to quote her mentor, it’s been a shit fucking day at the office. she doesn’t want to go home alone, and needs a few shoulders to cry on.

pairing: platonic!mercedes amg f1 team x female reader

warnings: *existential crisis intensifies*. talk of loneliness and romantic problems, anxiety. y/n is very emotional and sensitive. I do a lot of projecting because I just want to be comforted. we jokingly bully paul aron a little bit.

author's note: the only explanation i have for this is sad girl fall

"mr. bonnington?" she shouted, dashing across the factory floor to catch up to the race engineer, a stack of papers in her hands.

peter bonnington smiled at the young intern, taking the sheaf of papers patenting the new suspension system being used in the silver arrows for next season. "mr. bonnington was my father. please, y/n, call me bonno. everybody else does. you're one of us now."

"am i? i just work in legal. i don't even get to travel." she said it jokingly, but it was another reminder that she didn't truly fit in with the team, that nothing she did would make her good enough.

"yeah, and you don't get the stress and jet lag that goes along with it." bonno looked at her knowingly. "you're going to do great things here. just you wait and see."

but y/n didn't fully believe him. she wasn't even a proper lawyer, just the clerk. the glorified errand-girl.

she carried that bad feeling in her stomach all day. while she was sitting at her desk typing reports, watching through the windows as the engineers laughed with each other. while she sorted contracts and blueprints and watched the drivers talking with each other on their way to the simulator room. the junior drivers, kimi antonelli and paul aron, one a year younger than she was, the other two full calendar years and three months. just kids, already more successful and well known than y/n would ever be.

and she realized that she never truly felt like she fit in, and then she was going to go home and sit alone with her feelings over a frozen dinner.

as soon as the clock hit five, she grabbed her backpack and her coat and she was out of the office in a flash, headphones in as she bit back tears.

she made it to the edge of the parking lot before she started crying, sitting down on the edge of one of the decorative rocks. the tears ran down her face and she knew she looked like a fool sitting in the parking lot and bawling her eyes out, but her mother always told her that emotions were better out than in.

she didn't know how long she had been there when something brought her back to the present moment. the press of a paw on her leg, a deep bark that cut through the music she was listening to. the gentle pressure of a hand on her shoulder.

she looked down, taking out one of her earbuds as she reached down to scratch roscoe hamilton behind the ears, turning her head to see the bulldog's owner, the one and only lewis hamilton, standing next to the rock where she was sitting.

"are you alright, y/n? you look upset."

she shook her head, wiping her eyes and trying to regain composure. "you know who i am?"

"of course. we met when your lawyer did that tour of the factory floor."

"i didn't think the higher ups would remember somebody like me."

lewis smiled, taking a seat next to her on the rock, lifting roscoe up so she could hold the bulldog in her arms. "do you want to talk about it?"

"it's been a day, lewis. it's been a day. i'm struggling to fit in here, even though this field placement is literally the dream to me. i've loved this team since before i could walk, and i feel like an outsider every time that i walk through the factory doors."

lewis comfortingly put his hand on her arm. "what can we do to help?"

"i don't know. i think that i'm the problem, lewis. i don't know how to talk to people, and i always think they're judging me behind my back. i'm not a people person, and i think it's just as simple as that."

roscoe whined in her lap, nudging his head into her stomach. she laughed scratching the bulldog behind the ears.

"roscoe seems to like you. and if roscoe likes you, you can't be that bad."

"i'm just lonely, lewis. it's my first year away from home, and i've never been alone for this long before."

lewis was about to say something when another voice cut through the air.

"oi, lewis, mate, what are you doing out here in the cold?"

they both turned around. lewis waved the other man over, and soon enough, george russell was sitting on her other side, a concerned look on his face.

"are you alright, love? you look like you've been crying."

"thanks for the reminder." she sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the cuff of her sweater. "i'm y/n, i work in legal."

"nice to meet you, y/n. i'm george, but you know that already, i bet."

lewis patted her gently on the shoulder. "y/n was just saying that she doesn't feel like she fits in here."

george's eyes widened. "that can't be true. come on now, we aren't that bad company, are we?"

y/n laughed, shaking her head. "i've just always struggled with the social aspect. and now i get to go home and be lonely over a good book and a frozen dinner from sainsburys."

lewis raised his eyebrows. "really? a pretty, bright young thing like you must have someone to come home to."

"you know how it is. you grow older and you lose touch with friends, they move away destined for better things and you're still stuck in the same place that you were before because your anxiety is so bad that you can't bear to move away from home and leave behind everything you thought you knew. this is my first time living on my own. i moved out of my parent's house and into a small little flat that i can barely afford."

she stopped and took a deep breath.

i will not cry in front of the most important members of this fucking team.

"with every day that goes by where i don't meet that person, that person who's going to love me unconditionally, that person who's going to tell me i'm gorgeous and kiss me softly and want to spend the rest of their life with me, i get scared that it's never going to happen for me. i'm scared of being alone."

"woah, is there a party out here that i wasn't invited to?" nyck de vries was bundled up from head to toe against the british fall, the wind ruffling his hair as he shrunk his already small body back into the down jacket that swamped his body. "room for one more?"

"if you can fit on the rock, you're welcome to join us." y/n smiled, grateful for the company as she shifted to create room for the reserve driver.

"nyck'll fit, he's tiny anyways." george laughed as the dutch driver joined the trio.

"fuck off, russell. we can't all be tall. being short is awesome anyways, i don't know what you're talking about. so, what are we talking about? boys? inter-office gossip?"

"how about the ever present fear of dying alone having never experienced being in love." y/n said shortly, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her knuckles. "yeah, it's a heavy one."

"i'm sorry, how old are you?"

"almost twenty."

"that's way too young to be having an existential crisis like this, mate. you have your whole life ahead of you."

"it will happen when it's meant to. the world has a funny way of working in the ways you least expect it." lewis said gently, taking her small hand in his larger one. "and in the mean time, you have the three of us."

"i can set you up with some of the f2 guys." nyck suggested. "i mean, it's been a while since i was a part of that world, but there's got to be a few of them left around that could help out."

"absolutely not. i'm not sicking an f2 driver on the poor girl." lewis laughed. "you of all people should know how wild they are."

"would you rather i set her up with a formula e driver? i'd say that they're worse."

"what about clement?" george suggested. "i think you'd love novalak, he's a riot."

"he's friends with lando." lewis reminded his teammate.

"right, maybe he's not the best fit for someone so sweet and quiet. paul, maybe?"

"paul is eighteen years old, george." y/n reminded through a laugh. "i'm not dating a literal child."

"what's this about dating?"

at the sound of the team principal's voice, all conversation ceased as the drivers turned to look at their boss. "hey toto." they chorused in almost terrifying unison.

"your drivers are trying to find me a boyfriend."

toto raised his eyebrows. "and they suggested paul? i wouldn't wish that boy on anybody. his brother might be a good fit though. a nice boy with a respectable job on the pit wall."

"leave the poor girl alone, toto." susie laughed, smacking her husband on the arm. "me and angela are the only people allowed to send her on dates, you hear me?"

"yes, susie." the three drivers said in unison, laughing among themselves.

y/n already felt better.

"hey, y/n," george offered. "we were all about to go for a night out, lewis was taking us bowling, we were probably also going to get some pizza or something. did you want to come with us? i'd hate for you to go home sad."

y/n smiled. "actually, yeah. i'd like that a lot."

"come on, then!" susie smiled, helping y/n up from the rock and putting her arm around the younger girl. "you look like you need some girl time."

"oi, susie!" nyck shouted with a laugh. "don't go stealing her from us now!"

and suddenly, even if it was just for a night, she felt like things were going to be okay again.

maybe she wasn't as lonely as she thought she was.

maybe she wasn't on her own after all.

[its-a-ittle-bit-cold]

I just want to tell you I am (Jamie Tartt x reader)

1.2k

warnings: fluff, language? mention sex like once

summary: Rebecca and Keeley ask you a very suspicious question

a/n: short little engagement drabble <3

“How’s Jamie?”

You, Keeley and Rebecca have begun a tradition of pamper and girl talk before matches, almost every week. Each of you bring things for self care to a rotation house- this time yours- and spoil yourselves and each other. The three of you, the medical and technical director, the publicity mogul and the club owner, make a very unusual trio of three generations. 

You’re in the middle of putting on a bright blue rubber face mask with your hair up in a mask and dressed in your matching fuzzy robe when Keeley poses the question.

Rebecca busies herself with her nails, pretending to not be interested.

You can’t help a face-splitting smile as you gaze at one of the many pictures of the two of you on the wall of your shared residence with the famous football star player: Jamie Tartt himself. In this particular shot, Jamie is holding you up in front of a sunset, your hair flips down and covers both your faces, but if you look carefully, you can see jamie’s adoring eyes. 

patting the mask back on, you avert your eyes. 

“He’s… fine. Great. He’s great actually.”

Keeley tears the seal off a tube of teeth-whitening solution.

“You two are perfect for each other,” She tells you. “You don’t take any of his shit. That’s really good.”

Rebecca flashes her white shimmer nails. Both you and Keeley ooh and ahhh at them.

“you’ve been good for him,” the oldest in the room tells you. “He’s been very good for you, as well.” 

You smile at your two closest friends. 

“d’you reckon you’d marry him?” Keeley asks suddenly. “like, if he proposed tomorrow, what’d you say?”

You stare past her at the screen.

another one of the defining characteristics of your spa days is the sad movies playing in the background. You and your girls always love having a good crying movie in the background, especially if they have happy endings.

(you remember when you had the day at Keely and Roy’s place. The football coach walked in, took one look at the three of you crying while a screaming mother grieved on the huge flatscreen tv, and turned and walked out). In this particular movie, the boy who is sick is being sung to and he starts crying (unrealistically. he’s in a coma).

“It sounds crazy. I know, but i think i’d say yes,” you tell them. “I don’t know. I’ve never loved as hard as i love Jamie. It’s not going away, it’s only getting so much better.”

You watch Rebecca’s face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. After her horrible experience with Rupert, how would she take this?

She looks like she’s trying to hide a smile.

“That’s great, babes,” she tells you. “really, really great.” 

“plus,” you add with a grin. “he’s really, really good in bed.”

“That’s a bonus right there,” rebecca exclaims.

The three of you soon brush the tooth whitening solution on and silently shed tears as the mom on screen begs for mercy.

this is the life.

The match today is a great one to see. Jamie flies on the pitch, and every time he scores he looks up at the box and blows you a kiss. You know he likes to fluster you, and this never fails to disappoint.

when there are only five minutes remaining, rebecca and Keeley stand up and grab one of your elbows each. 

“what’s going on?” you follow them, confused into the stands, and to the private elevator. “where are we going?” 

they share a look. Keeley squeals and rebecca squeezes your shoulders, but they don’t answer your question.

“You’ll just have to wait, my darling.”

you give them looks. They know you don’t particularly like waiting. You’re the one who always looks up spoilers for the movies you watch because you just can’t wait.

You descend past the entrance and to the pit. The smell of sweaty man bombards your nostrils but they keep walking. 

“you guys know you’re not allowed on the pitch, right?”

“don’t worry, babe, we’re not going to the pitch.”

“see even though you say that, it really feels like we’re headed straight into the tunnel that leads to the pitch.”

the second you step foot into the opening, the ref’s whistle blows. The three of you stop short as the crowd erupts into screams and the Richmond chant. Rebecca has her phone out. 

“What is going on?” you ask for what feels like the fifteen hundredth time. the whole Richmond team Is getting closer to you guys. Sam and Isaac don’t even say hello, they hoist you onto their shoulders and charge back out onto the field.

“put me down!” you are surrounded by the team - your family. “You two are super sweaty!”

once you reach the center circle they let you down. The whole team - and the other, for that matter, surround you. 

Jamie Tartt, your boyfriend, cuts through the circle, followed by all four coaches. 

he’s holding a microphone and a ring box in his hand.

you bring your hands up to your mouth and look to your sides. Sam and Jan Maas, the two closest to you give you the hugest, shit-eating smiles you’ve ever seen as jamie gets down on one knee, still in his kit, and flips the ring box lid. 

“(y/n), love.” his Mancunian accented voice reverberated throughout the gasping crowd. “I live you more than i’ve loved anyone in my life. I will never stop loving you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” he pauses and you  cover your eyes, sloppily wiping up the tears that have gathered in your eyes. “Do you want to spend the rest of yours with me? will you make me the luckiest man on the planet and marry me?” 

The crowd, the teams, and even the birds flying above seem suspended in this perfect moment. The moment your perfectly imperfect boyfriend becomes your fiancée.

you nod furiously. frantically. 

“yes,” you whisper. “of course i’ll marry you, Jamie.”

he quickly hands off the microphone and charges toward you, taking you into his arms and spinning around amidst the roar of the crowd and the teams gathered around you. You’re crying. you’re both crying. He kisses you in his arms and then takes the ring out of its box and slides it onto your finger.

You press your forehead against his and kiss him again, crying.

This is the moment you will remember forever.

+

When you get a moment of silence, jamie kisses you sweetly. 

“You don’t have to, love.” 

you pull back, startled. 

does he mean he wants to take it back?

“Jamie?”

“I put ya in the spot out there in the pitch. You don’t need to say yes right now. It’s okay.”

You can see the pain this statement causes in his eyes. You shake your head, new tears of happiness blooming for his consideration of you. 

“Jamie, I meant what i said. You are the love of my life, okay?” you hold out your hand. “And we’re getting married.”

He kisses you again, but this time, you can feel the promise of more behind his desperate, post game, adrenaline fueled lips.

should i make this a series?

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Holy crap I’m loving your writing! Im especially obsessed with Ken and the ranch owner

I’m wondering if you’d be willing to do an fem human reader x Ken where the reader gets a bit sick, nothing too serious but Ken absolutely freaks out and thinks the reader is dying or sum (he learned about death from Stero Barbie. Also spiders. He’s terrified of both) and the reader thinks it’s a bit funny so she’s like “yeah I’m dying” but then he gives her the most terrified and sad kicked puppy look and she has to explain that it’s just a cold lol

Awh thank you!! Im glad that ppl still love my barbie movie stuff even though barbie summer has come and gone 💔

........

There were only two things that Ken feared after beginning his new life in the Real World:

One is the mortality of humans, as Barbie told him all about how fragile their lives were and the two paths they were given: either growing old and dying peacefully in their beds, or some terrible occurrence cutting it short long before their time on this earth was up.

The second was spiders.

He especially hated the spiders.

You only recently discovered he had that fear after finding one of those 8-legged critters in your house--or more specifically in his room, where he came barreling out from as though he accidentally set something on fire.

At first, you thought he really did start a fire until he dragged you back into there, begging you to get rid of the "strange beast".

You had no clue what he could possibly be referring to....and then he pointed to the corner, where a little cellar spider sat completely unbothered, weaving its web.

In that moment, you realized you may have turned him arachnophobic, considering you did show him one insect-themed horror movie this past Halloween. He kept freaking out over it potentially growing horse-sized or injecting venom into his bloodstream when he was asleep.

But despite you assuring him neither of those things could happen (and insisting that the spider was more afraid of him), Ken refused to go into the room until it was gone.

You find it hard to fathom that this same doll who led an entire revolt, came to terms with his own identity crisis, and bravely made the transition to humanity....was totally inconsolable in the presence of a tiny bug.

Then again, maybe showing him that movie--and allowing Barbie to explain why arachnophobia was among the top fears humans had--was a huge mistake.

Regardless, you made it your mission to get rid of the critter.

Oddly enough Ken insisted that you didn't actually kill it, but you found you it sweet that he valued its life despite it scaring the shit out of him. So you contained it in a cup, putting a napkin underneath it before releasing it outside.

After that, you mentioned how most people usually killed spiders and other pests that invaded their home.

He looked wildly uncomfortable at that fact, before he began talking about some rather... concerning things: like if the spider knew how short its lifespan was, how easily it could have been crushed, if it feared death or if it was even aware of it at all-

Before he could derail and start rambling about death itself too much, you stopped him, asking if he was feeling alright.

And he went quiet for a moment, before smiling and giving you a kiss, reassuring you he felt better.

Yet even as he left the room, he still appeared awful tense.

It was that day where you worried that it's more than just spiders he feared..

.......

"Babe, what's wrong? Are you sick??"

"...unfortunately, but it's nothing serious. Just a stupid cold I caught at work." Sighing tiredly, you sat up in bed, seeing Ken walk into the room.

He looked nothing short of horrified at how drained and exhausted you sounded this morning. "A-Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I don't want you to catch anything, so I'm sorry...but no kisses today."

"Then..what about tomorrow?"

You just rolled your eyes, drinking some tea you made for yourself. "Maybe, but we'll see if I wake up."

Although it was meant to be a little joke, your foggy brain forgot how seriously the blond often took jokes, and he rushed to your bedside, kneeling down.

His eyes were wide as he took your hand. "If you wake up??? Are you dying??"

Putting down your mug, you sighed once more, trying to figure out a way to remedy this situation before you upset him too much. "No....I mean I just feel like I'm dying, but.." You paused, noticing the tears coming to his eyes. "Ken?"

Now that he was a lot closer, you could see the utterly terrified look on his face--as though you kicked a puppy right in front of him.

Yep, it was already much too late. He was upset.

"I-I know tomorrow is not guaranteed for anyone, but you have to get through this, [y/n]! Please..I can't lose you, too...not when you've done so much to help me." He was extremely close to crying, his lips trembling.

Your heart sunk as you placed a hand ober his own. "Oh honey, I was only kidding around when I say-"

"Why do humans joke about death so much? Don't they know y-you...you can't come back? That they have such short lives?? O-Or sure, some believe you can be reincarnated but that doesn't make it any-"

At this point, he was just blubbering nonsense, so you took him into your arms. And for a moment he fell silent, before burying his face into your chest, trying to calm himself down. "I-I'm sorry.."

"No, no..I'm sorry. You're right..I shouldn't be joking about death around you." Frowning slightly, you stroked his hair. "I promise I'm not dying. Not today, or tomorrow..not for a long, long time. This cold will pass and I'll feel better soon enough."

".....a-are these the irrepressible thoughts of death Barbie had?"

'Oh.'

It finally hit you.

He was going through the same thing she once did.

"Ken.." You had him sit up so you could see his face. Aside from it being a little red and his eyes puffy and watery, there were tear marks trailing down to the stubble that had formed along his jaw and chin. "Why didn't you tell me you were having those thoughts?"

Sniffling, he just shrugged. "I don't know. And... I don't know why I'm thinking them. Barbie could blame it on somebody who was playing with her, but...I can't. Because I'm not a doll anymore, I'm human....a-and...those were my thoughts alone." He shuddered, terrified at that realization. "I guess I just..didn't wanna scare you, b-but obviously it's too late for that..."

A small chuckle came from him, although it dissolved into a small sob as he wiped his eyes. "S-Sorry, I....I want these thoughts to just pass already."

"And they will." You nodded, squeezing his free hand reassuringly. "It looks like you're just experiencing them for the first time, and that's okay. They won't be all you think about. And you don't have to apologize for how you're feeling, as long as you're honest with me."

"Th-Thank you.." He sniffled. "I should be taking care of you, not the other way around. Do you need you anything? More tea? Meds? Anything at all?"

You smiled fondly, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. "You're all I need right now, sweetheart."

That response seemed to bring Ken's giddy old self back, as he smiled bashfully in return. He melted back into your arms when you wrapped them around him, and he listened to your heartbeat: the only assurance he needed that you were still living.

Eventually...those thoughts of death did pass him by, and he felt okay again.

[thestobingirlie]

interesting thoughts about steve re: the triangle and being the boy that helps nancy relax. i agree completely.

for me, as someone who was very much into stoncy and now leans more stancy (they are so cute holy shit), i have always been fascinated with the similarities and differences between steve and jonathan.

it is so clear to me, that jonathan could never truly take care of her in the way she needs, not on his own. not as a husband (in the future). nancy is very much the caretaker in that relationship, and natalia said so herself. i do love jonathan, and he is a strong caretaker for will and joyce obviously, but when it comes to nancy—he is unfortunately a burden to her in a way that steve will never ever be *or* even let himself be. jonathan has so much emotional baggage. its heartbreaking of course but its baggage that he makes no effort to tame or heal (besides smoking i guess), and i would argue he is absolutely selfish for fostering a committed relationship with nancy and expecting her to deal with that on top of her own issues. (i do get though that teenagers are selfish naturally.) but he knows he isn’t ready to support a girlfriend, he knows that. he also has to know how much heartbreak the inevitable end of his relationship will cost her, especially since she began her relationship with him in what was arguably the most depressed point in her life in the second season. jonathan, god bless him, is self-pitying but not proactive (see: following around your girlfriend with your tail between your legs like a wet sad dog wordlessly begging its owner for food) (but hes my wet sad dog). he is her perpetually passive accomplice and while that may be appealing to nancy when she’s in tunnel vision mode, even she is shown to be resentful of his inability to step up for her. he is malewife in the absolute worse way (i promise i love you jonathan).

then let’s think about nancy’s other dumbass malewife. steve is absolutely her caretaker, and let’s be real that is what she needs, whether or not she knows it (she does deep down). i dont mean that in a “nancy can’t take care of herself” way but in a “he wants her to have fun” way! he’s got to have a ton of shit haunting his dreams at night but like ken in barbie (lmao), does not let her see his pain. he is so selfless, always making sure he can be a light presence for her, a calm easy presence. jonathan doesn’t do that. jonathan doesn’t know how to take control of a “nancy wheeler is so deep into this truth journey she might get herself killed” situation—i see the (bad) “feminist” take often that steve holds her back and jonathan supports her but that is such watered down feminism. nancy is a badass but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t put herself into danger (she does.) and jonathan isn’t a feminist hero for supporting her dangerous endeavors (though ofc most of her endeavors save everyone’s ass).

any way: essay complete. i just really am falling deeper and deeper in love with stancy because i realize that nancy, as my favorite character, needs taking care of! like noooo one takes good care of her! let her bejeweled (taylor swift ref lmfao)!

i think what it comes down to for me, is that jonathan’s priority will always be will, and nancy deserves someone who will prioritise her.

jonathan’s gone through a lot of abuse, he’s been majorly parentified. he doesn’t put his own happiness first, and i think as a result, he doesn’t put nancy’s first. he thinks they’ll both be miserable and hate each other and their kids in the future, but he’s still with her. because that’s what you’re “supposed to do”. and i really, really don’t see him working through that anytime soon. especially not if he’s still in a relationship with nancy.

but steve. he makes her laugh! even in terrible times. we see this calming and happy effect that he has on her in s4. he tries. even if it wasn’t enough when nancy was deep in her grief. he was trying.

like you said, nancy deserves to be swept off her feet and romanced. for someone to want to take care of her. for someone to want a future together, instead of resent one.

i think it’s insane to say it’s anti-feminist to ever question a woman lmao. steve wants nancy to be safe, that means he doesn’t always like her plans. her plans often put herself and others in danger because she gets all in her head. i think she needs someone to stand up, and lay out what might be wrong with the plan. to go toe to toe with her.

(and the irony of people criticising steve for not immediately liking nancy’s plan in s4 when that plan did not work lmao. two people died. and neither of them was vecna.)

obviously all three of them are imperfect. they’re teenagers! they’ll fuck up and do harsh things. but what matters is that they care about each other. steve cares about nancy, so he laid out his feelings, and stepped back. jonathan cares about nancy, and he kept secrets, didn’t explain to her what he was feeling, and allowed this… resentment almost, to fester. he’s an avoider! it doesn’t mean he’s a terrible person, but it does mean he shouldn’t be in a relationship.

[dean-a-mean-tae]

Extended Family | Stray Kids Additional Member AU

Nicholas's extended family on his mother's side

WARNINGS: J&M's Lifestyles is a fake business. A dead fish and dog. Mention of break ups. Mention of Nolan and Tamaya's questionable parenting habits.

Nicholas Ross Master List | A/N: I freaking struggled with the ages and birthdays of these little shits, so PLEASE tell me if I made a birthday, or gave a time frame, that doesn't add up.

✧*̥˚Jermaine Ross*̥˚✧

Date of Birth: June 17, 1955 Zodiac Sign: Gemini Ethnicity: African American Nationality: African American Occupation: Co-Owner of J&M's Lifestyles

Jermaine Ross. Father of three children, husband of Makayla Campbell, and co-owner of J&M's Lifestyles. After coming across MaKayla's journal of ideas for a business, he created her business, with her permission, and named it after them. 'J' for Jermaine and 'M' for Makayla. Though he wasn't as active in the kids lives as Makayla, he still took time off and built his schedule around his kids and their lives.

He wasn't the best parent, but he told his kids, "We're all learning this together." (we're all in this together) The kids always spoke their mind, they asked questions, and they did stupid things. Jermaine always let them do questionable things as long as it wasn't putting people in high danger. He wanted them to learn for themselves. Tamaya (Nicholas's mom) was a Daddy's Girl, spoiled but disciplined.

Jermaine used to visit Nicholas and Lillian after work. As he spoiled Tamaya, it was only natural that he spoiled her children, his grandchildren.

✧*̥˚Makayla Campbell-Ross*̥˚✧

Date of Birth: December 20, 1954 Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius Ethnicity: Black-Hispanic Nationality: African American Occupation: Co-Owner of J&M's Lifestyles/Stay At Home Mom

Makayla Campbell. Mother of three kids, wife of Jermaine Ross, and co-owner of J&M's Lifestyles. Originally, Makayla wasn't operating the business. Legally, she was the co-owner, but she didn't actively participate. The company was based on her ideas and she was fine with Jermaine making her dream come true. In her mind, all of the money goes to her husband's account for him to spend it on his family. So why should she care? She doesn't.

The main reason she didn't participate is because of her children. She wanted a parent to stay with them while the other went to work, if both couldn't stay. When Zion and LaTasha told her they wanted to work in the company, she decided to step in as the co-owner.

When Nicholas was a toddler, and his parents didn't punish him for crying, he would always go to Makayla when he was sad. He'd ask his mother to call her so he could hear her voice to put him to sleep.

✧*̥˚Zion Campbell-Ross*̥˚✧

Date of Birth: November 2, 1974 Zodiac Sign: Scorpio Ethnicity: Black-Hispanic Nationality: African American Occupation: Manager at J&M's Lifestyles

Zion Campbell-Ross. The oldest sibling out of Makayla and Jermaine's children. He lives in a single family home and works at his parent's shop. Occasionally, he'll visit his parents and youngest sister.

Zion was an active person in Nicholas's life, and continuously taught him basic life skills and how to treat others. Him and Lillian like to joke that his girlfriend was Lillian's lesbian awaking as it was obvious she had a child crush on the older woman when she was 6. After Lillian and Nicholas moved out of Tamaya's house, Zion stopped visiting.

Zion, Nicholas, and Lillian still keep in touch. They check in at least 8 times a month, and plan to see each other 3 or 4 times a year.

✧*̥˚LaTasha Campbell-Ross*̥˚✧

Date of Birth: March 29, 1980 Zodiac Sign: Aries Ethnicity: Black-Hispanic Nationality: African American Occupation: Influencer/ Model for J&M's Lifestyles

LaTasha Campbell-Ross. The youngest of Makayla and Jermaine's children. She lives with her parents and works as an influencer and a model for her parents company. LaTasha looked up Tamaya until she married Nolan. Though she looked up to Tamaya, she followed Zion around. Latasha is also a Mama's Girl.

LaTasha has never wanted kids. The idea of giving birth scared her. She doesn't like the idea of being restricted and bound to a person's life. She liked wants to be The Aunt, and the person people could go to when they needed a break. She also just doesn't like kids.

LaTasha is the one who brought up the idea of Nicholas becoming a singer. With LaTasha is the second person Lillian came out to, and she helped her come out to the family.

☼Pets☼

✧*̥˚Precious*̥˚✧

Pitbull Terrier | Female Deceased: Died when Zion was a teenager

Jermaine gave Makayla the dog for their 8th anniversary when Zion was 4. She named him precious because Zion wouldn't stop saying the word for over 2 months.

✧*̥˚Merlin*̥˚✧

Betta Fish | Male Deceased: Died from LaTasha over feeding it when she was six

Jermaine bought her the fish so she would stop begging for a pet. The fish actually lasted longer than it was supposed to, so LaTasha took good care of him until she didn't.

✧*̥˚Panther*̥˚✧

Great Dane | Male Alive: Zion's Pet, who lives with him

Zion got the Great Dane 2 years after he moved out of his parents house. He let LaTasha name him. She named him panther simply because panthers are her favorite animals and Zion is her favorite sibling.

✧*̥˚Naveen*̥˚✧

Doberman | Male Alive: LaTasha's pet, who lives with her and her parents

Nicholas gave Zion the idea to get LaTasha the Doberman to cheer her up from a bad breakup, after the younger male couldn't fly over to comfort her. Latasha named the dog after the prince from Princess and the Frog, Naveen.

☼Fun Facts☼

Makayla and Jermaine got together in April 1971, they were 15

Makayla and Jermaine were 19 when they had Zion, 22 when they had Tamaya, and 25 when they had LaTasha.

The family was only allowed to meet Lillian when she turned 5 and met Nicholas when he was 3.

Makayla didn't, and still doesn't, like Nolan (Nicholas's father) but she put up with him for Tamaya.

Makayla wanted to try and get custody of the kids, Nicholas and Lillian, but couldn't because legally the kids were taken care of and were "fine"

Most of Nicholas's outfits come from J&M's Lifestyles

LaTasha was 18 when Lillian was born

From the date of this post, Makayla and Jermaine have been together for almost 53 years

LaTasha is bisexual and biromantic

Jermaine is demisexual

Zion has had 6 girlfriends, only 4 serious relationships, but is currently single

Makayla only has 1 grey hair meanwhile Jermaine has noticeable grey curls spread through out his hair.

He's still more pepper than salt, but still

Jermaine is the one who told LaTasha to keep feeding Merlin so he indirectly killed the fish

Nicholas Ross Master list

©️DEANAMEANTAE2024

Tags List: @bada-lee-ily @jinnie-ret @hwxnghyynjin @foxilsdenn @rensahazard @mynameisnotlaura @lucianidealz @ziipzeepzop-eez @ilovejeongin007

You can be added by asking in the replies, sending me a message, or doing an ask thingy.

[pastself]

Want for Nothing: Deleted Scene (Joint Accounts - 1.3k)

So, part of the problem with being a discovery writer is that I have a good 20k of deleted scenes for Want for Nothing. Most of them are nothing special, but some I can’t quite let go of, even though they don’t work anymore — this is one of them.

It’s set in Chapter 3 (4 by ao3 logic) “Tabloid Junkie” and basically has Tony/Peter confronting their new financial dynamic head-on. It got cut because 1/ Peter was going through enough in that chapter, 2/ they were both just… not in the right place to talk about it without it devolving into an argument. It’s unfinished in that respect, because I was just not up to writing whatever new hell they were going to invent.

—

The bed was cold when Peter woke the next morning. 

Cold, but not empty.

A pile of bank documents lay on top of Tony’s pillow. No note attached – unless several post-its with the words "sign here" counted. 

Peter read over the documents alone in his multi-million dollar apartment with the blinds down. Signing would make him a co-owner of Tony's accounts. The balance wasn't listed, but behind the ownership documents were sign-offs for new unlimited lines of credit in Peter's name. 

Peter hadn't even known there was such a thing as unlimited credit. 

He called Tony.

"Hear me out," Tony said as soon as the call connected. "This is just like May’s medical bills."

"How?"

"Your Aunt's old boss screwed her out of what she'd worked for, so I fixed the damage. This is me doing the same for you."

"But I’m fine. I’m–"

“NYU is pulling your scholarship.”

The words hit Peter like a punch to the gut. His vision blurred and he felt the blood run from his brain. He sat down, hard, on a kitchen stool. Tony was still talking to him, but the words were indistinguishable. Completely obscured by the white noise of panic running through him.

His scholarship.

The one he’d spent years fighting for, pulling weeks of all-nighters to ensure he stayed in the city’s top percentile. Padding his resume with debate team and volunteer work, on top of his jobs and Spider-Man. His scholarship. The one he and May had cried over, together, when it had come through. The one that had been set to get him through college, miraculously, with ‘only’ 20 grand of student debt. 

Gone.

“–but you told me to tell you before I pull shit. So I put the foundation on hold, and figured we could just pay this all out of pocket. Out of your pocket, if you’ll let me–”

“Wait, what?”

Tony was silent for a beat. “You missed everything I said, huh?”

“I… what?”

Tony let out a sad sigh, and Peter desperately wished they were having this conversation in person.

“The scholarship is gone, babe.”

“But why… how can they do this?”

“It’s the apartment. It’s legally in your name, and when they… found out about your change of address, they decided to re-evaluate your financial status. You don’t qualify for aid anymore.”

Oh.

“But an apartment doesn’t pay for, like, tuition. Or food. Or just… anything else. I quit my jobs. Just because I’m living here–”

“They don’t see it that way. So, either we fight them, which I’m happy to do, or we just give them money. In this case, I think paying them off is the better option.”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. He knew Tony was just trying to help but, fuck, if didn’t feel like someone had just pulled the rug out from under him.

“You said something about a foundation?” he said, trying to piece together Tony’s earlier rant.

“I uh-” Tony started, before clearing his throat awkwardly. Peter heard him fidget with something on his desk. “My first thought was to set up a foundation under SI that could just give you a new scholarship.”

“Are you kidding me–”

“But, I remembered you told me to just ask you before I did shit. So, I shelved the scholarship idea and instead I’m asking. This is me asking, okay? Let me do this for you. Let me fix this.” 

Peter looked down at the bank documents Tony had provided. It was too much. He couldn’t imagine having total access to Tony’s money; he didn’t want the responsibility that came with that.

“Can’t you just… pay my tuition? And give me something for expenses?”

Tony made no reply for a long moment. Long enough for Peter to feel antsy. Because really, what kind of person said no to a fortune?

“Those documents would give you more security,” Tony said, eventually. “I wouldn’t be able to take away your access without your consent. So if… if things don’t work out, you’ll be able to look out for yourself.”

If things don’t work out?

“Are you breaking up with me?” Peter said instinctively, irrationally.

“Jesus, Peter, no. People don’t hand over billions of dollars as a parting gift. No. Definitely not breaking up with you.”

“Billions?” Peter let out a croak of a laugh. “Right, yeah, of course, right. Sorry.”

“I just– you should have the freedom.”

Peter understood Tony’s motivation, in theory – but he hated it. Because Tony was family, now, and Peter couldn’t imagine a world in which he wouldn’t be. Couldn’t imagine a world in which he’d choose to stop taking Tony’s support. Or in which Tony would stop giving it, even if they stopped dating.

But maybe Tony needed that reassurance. Maybe this wasn’t just about Peter. Maybe this was one of those points of compromise MJ kept talking about.

“Is that… is that ‘freedom’ important for you?”

“Yes,” Tony answered immediately.

Okay. Compromise it is, then.

“Alright, alright,” Peter tried to bring his mind into focus. Tried to think of a way this would work for both of them. “Could you set it up in a way that… I dunno, lets me have access up to a certain limit? And a set time-frame? That way you’ll know I’ll be able to cover tuition and expenses for… well, however long you think.”

“So no limits and forever?”

“Tony–”

“What?" Tony said stubbornly. "That’s what you deserve.”

Peter sighed. “I’m not saying no, Tony. But the idea of being responsible for, like, an infinite amount of money freaks me out. I don’t want to be on the Forbes list or–”

“Those lists are bullshit PR–”

“Well, whatever. You get my point. I get that you want me to have that extra cushion, but I– I’m trying to compromise here. I already trust you to support me — I don’t see why we need to do all this, especially since it will inevitably end up in the Bugle.”

Tony was silent, but for a pen tapping contemplatively.

“Is this a kink thing?” he said

Peter definitely hadn’t seen the conversation going this direction.

“What? A- a what?”

“You know,” Tony said, voice oddly detached and casual. “‘Pay for me, own me, control me.’ Are you trying to tell me you have an ownership kink? That you’re into the whole codependent, power transfer thing?”

“That’s a thing?”

Tony let out a gust of air, and Peter heard more rustling in the background. Peter genuinely has no idea how to continue this conversation.

“Yes. It’s a thing,” Tony said, at last. “Is it your thing?”

“Is it yours?” Peter volleyed back.

“Not necessarily.”

“Okay, well…” Peter still didn’t know what to say. “Ditto?”

Tony was quiet for another long minute. Peter started counting his breaths to keep himself from speaking. 

“So,” Tony said eventually. “You want me to control your finances, but not in a kinky way. Honestly, that may be worse.”

Peter sighed. “No,” he said, emphatically. “I don’t want you to control anything. What I want is the scholarship I dedicated years of my life to getting. But, given that’s not an option, I am happy to accept your support – which doesn’t have to mean access to all your money. I love May, and I’d help her with anything, but we still have separate bank accounts. See where I’m going with this?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah — you want a daddy.” Tony’s voice was hard. Angry.

Peter genuinely wanted to throw his phone out the window. Actually, he could hear it crack slightly under his hand, so he put it down and just let himself breathe. 

And breathe.

And breathe.

“Peter?” came Tony’s voice.

Peter finally picked up his phone. “If you were anyone else I would have hung up.”

—

Edit with my tags (lol making me change my tumblr ways): fwiw Peter still doesn’t know if the money thing is a sex thing for him, bc it is just so intertwined with the way Peter feels Tony’s love for him. Obvs that impacts the sex but not — directly?

[siennablaze219]

@Daily-Writing-Challenge - May 2024 - Day 2 - Embrace (oh look I posted two days in a row, go me)

(Fair warning, really long)

(Written as an ongoing growth arc with my warlock, Deiala Vyneaniux. Some might not make sense completely not knowing her background, but overall enough to understand)

Dei stopped in at her book shop to get books she thought would be good for reading to Eli, certainly something more interesting than the Elven ship craft of pre-war Feralas. The book was what Dei had in her bag when she got the news about her friend being injured and what she had been reading to her since. It likely was part of the reason Eli was sleeping so much.

Picking a couple titles off the shelves, she turned when the bell on the door chimed. An Illidari ducked under the doorframe and turned immediately to face Dei with a smile. He was a large man, easily over eight and a half feet with shoulders wider than her door frame and was the reason Dhes and Ewan’s size did not phase her much, the man was also drop dead gorgeous.

The shop owner did not *entirely* lose her composure but she cleared the distance to him in a few strides, he bent to hug her and lifted her off the ground to the surprise of Dei’s slack jawed assistant. “You *look* good,” he said with a shit eating grin on his face

“You always say that,” she replied tartly, “and we both know it is not true.”

“Au contraire, pretty lady, I mean it every time I say it, and I do not need standard sight to see the truth of you. If I were ten thousand years younger, and didn’t have a demon living in my body I would sweep you away. Wait…. How do you feel about older men?” The Illidari still had her held off the ground, “I guess the second point still stands hmmm?”

Dei remained with her arms around his neck, no reason to let go, not like he was going to just drop her because she was too heavy, “What are you doing in town? I thought you were off hunting down some random group of fel beasties in the middle of nowhere.”

He snarled and it would have been frightening for most, but Dei just laughed, “Treat my job like a joke will you? I should put you over my knee…” He smirked, “Or take you and dump you in the pond behind your house.”

“When did I disparage your job Kyeanadril? You did very important work rounding up those five little imps last time.” Dei said with mock seriousness.

“That’s it woman,” he tossed Dei over his shoulder. “You there,” he pointed at Dei’s assistant, “watch the store while Vyeaniux goes swimming.”

“Don’t you dare! I will tell your demon the secrets I know!” It was a true mock threat, the demon knew everything he did anyway. “Kyean! Kyean!” She said his name with no little horror in her tone, before he ducked through the door and leapt up into the air.

He did not angle them towards her house though, he took her up past the waterfall on the north side of the city before he landed and set her on her feet.”Sorry about that, we need to talk. You do look good though, your energies seem very mixed but it feels as though you have more life to you.”

Dei walked over to a rock and sat on it, this had been ‘their’ place to talk after Brendan’s death. Whenever the Kaldorei was in town he came by and they would talk demons for hours. There was nothing inappropriate and he didn’t even come by enough for her to consider him a good friend, often they just exchanged information and he would head out. “It has been an interesting eight months or so… what was so important we couldn’t talk at the store?”

“You know we can’t talk about *things* there, this is no different. I have been in the city for a few days but you were out of the store when I walked by, where have you been?” He asked her bluntly.

“A friend got hurt, I have been sitting with her at the clinic for that group I told you I joined?” There was a hint of a whirlwind of her emotions that spun there, fear, anger, frustration, pain, worry, caring and sadness, “Her boyfriend and I have been taking visits in shifts, though he is there a lot more than I am, as is proper.”

A rumbled ‘hmmm’ came from deep in his chest. “You need to take care.”

With a tip of her head she reached out to him with a little magic, kind of a ‘does your demon have control’ check that he always allowed her, her lack of trust in demons was clear to any that spoke to her about them. She saw nothing to worry about in him though so she went ahead and asked, “Take care? Why?”

“Since I have been in the city and passing by your shop, I have sensed demonic energy along the street there, more than there should be,” the Illidari said.

“They let Man’ari into the city, there is more demon dust everywhere, I almost can’t walk outside without sneezing like a bad allergy.” Dei excused his overreaction.

He frowned at her, “Do not make me truly put you over my knee.”

Her time with Rurik, and the opening of her memories with Kharon, had her offering up a sexy answer before she could rein it back in, “What if I like it?” She had no clue if she truly did or not, but Kharon’s image of her in her mind certainly did.

Bright green flared from behind his glasses, so did his nostrils, “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” her voice was not nearly as self-assured when she said that. Dei had never seen this intensity from him.

“Do not tell a man that unless you really want to find out, Deiala. What kind of business is this anyway that teaches you such things? You said they were a shipping and acquisitions company, which I took to mean piracy and theft.”

The bookstore owner looked at him quizzically, “Find out.. but you…” she didn’t push her luck. “That is what they are, just sometimes they play these games, and there was this man I liked.” Kyean did not know about Kharon’s invasion of her dreams when she was seventeen, if anyone knew how to go through a demonic gateway and find someone it would be him and she wasn’t sure she wanted that kind of resolution for the man Dei had defended herself from.

“Ah, finally a boyfriend, but you said was, and there was a sad tone plus your energy drained from you completely.”

She couldn’t lie to him when he asked her something directly and never did. He was too good at what he just did, “Was, he possibly was a spy, not sure the more time passes that I believe that, but the company does and I think that had I pushed against them too hard they would have stopped trusting me.” Another thing to gloss over, along with her nightmares and the dragon issues.

The huge man looked at her, really *looked* with his spectral sight, “Anyone that doesn’t trust you is a fool. You are so smart and you hold to your oaths like a rock face holds an ore deposit. How is Saxori?”

He was the only one that knew about the Man’ari her mentor had locked in a way long ago, and that was because Brendan had trusted him, not Dei, Dei trusted no one with that secret. Kyean had been a frequent visitor in her youth and many conversations were had between him and the demon. In fact, Kyean helped build the cage she lived in, “She is good, still a little too familiar, but she has been teaching me to dance.”

“Why do you need to le… never mind, we are off track, you always do that, I start with something uncomfortable and you let it chase its own tail until I have lost track of what I was asking. No warren tunnels for you little bunny.” He took her chin in his hand, “Do you really like spankings?” His tone was deep, sonorous and dropped into a growl at the end.

“I don’t know…” she frowned at him for talking about her sex life, “now who is changing the subject? What about this demonic presence?”

He leaned in and sniffed her, “Ah but the idea intrigues.” A surprised look crossed his face then he cleared his throat from the dry tone it had taken. “I have felt it since I came to the city but more near your shop. Have you been letting demons in?”

Dei snapped her answer harshly, “No!”

“Alright… alright… I didn’t think you changed that much but had to check. Yes, there are demons everywhere now, not just in the Lamb and the district around it, but near your street it is heavier, and it lingers. Any demons about recently, maybe some that tested your wards?” The question was reasonable so she could not get grumpy at his big brother protectiveness.

Thinking about his question for more than a moment, “Nothing I can think of.” Yet as she said it she realized it wasn’t entirely true.

He continued to stare at her, usually it was a friendly look but there was new, tighter, focus on her and she wasn’t sure what it was, must be the worry about the demonic traces. “There is a woman in the company, she has a ‘friend’ who is a Man’ari and has been doing deals with people I work with.”

“Do they not know how dangerous that is?l”

“They know, I told them so… in short words even the dumbest of them could understand.” Dei offered, “But maybe that is who you are sensing.”

Kyean shook his head, “Fel girl… you sure you want to stay there? That is a whole lotta trouble you don’t need, considering.”

He really had no idea as she wasn’t talking about dragons or time travel, just people who *might* deal with demons was enough of a threat to what she did, “I have made friends, at least a couple.”

“Did these friends have something to do with the boyfriend situation? Because I can’t imagine you backing down if someone told you what to do in that circumstance unless you really valued their opinion.” He watched her energy drop again so he pushed, “Have you been sleeping?”

What one thing had to do with the other in his mind she would never know, what it did in hers made her sad all over again. “They had something to do with it, yes.” Dei left it at that, “Not really, though I have some new medication one of our healers makes. Hoping it will help.”

He looked almost through her “But you haven’t taken it becuase you have been staying at this clinic.” He didn’t need her agreement as he knew the answer. “You are not going to the clinic tonight. I am taking you for food, then we go back to your place and talk. Whatever demons that are around won’t dare to act while I am,” he said and offered her his hand.

Dei took it and didn’t grump at him, she was tired and having him there would surely help her sleep, it was only when her house was empty that the nightmares came. “Fine, I will send a message to the clinic and I can cook.”

The Illidari looked at Dei, her outline had this stubborn tilt to her chin. When had she grown from that mouse child who gave in to anything Brendan told her, to this? Her spirit was glowing and it was strong, and he liked it. It would help her survive in this world. Demons would challenge her throughout her life, she held too many secrets that many would do anything to possess. Somehow Brendan raised a good Keeper of knowledge, one that may surpass her old mentor.

The demon in Kyean was thrashing at his bindings to wrest control, but the Illidari’s iron will kept a handle on the situation. What was it that made it test its bonds now? It hadn’t done that in years. He had spent much time with the woman even back when she was a child, but now there was an intense fascination from within him that was making him uneasy.

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

9: He's Scheming

♪⁠────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

Napstablook has gotten the absolute pleasure of getting to know you for the better part of the passing week. Sure, the experience was slightly watered down because, as YOU had warned him, your period made you a little more emotional and dramatic than usual. He can’t even blame you for it either; what kind of fucked up shit is this that you have to bleed for a whole week??

You were always quick to sincerely apologize whenever you accidently raised your voice, or when you would get jealous over a monster having cute ears, or when you would outright sob when you ate that delicious burger he brought for you from MTT-Brand Burger Emporium.

You were a bigger cry baby than he was! Honestly, Napstablook was pretty impressed!

But as much fun you two were having together in the Ruins, he knew that it couldn’t magically fix one specific dilemma.

You needed to get out of these Ruins.

The catacombs are very small and the amount of monsters living here are smaller. They tend to keep to themselves as well, and aren’t the most receptive when it comes to you. Yes, they’re polite and don’t turn you away, but when you were subtly telling the owner of a few places that you’d basically work for free, they found every excuse to turn you down.

“Oh, I’d just feel bad for taking advantage of you and your time.”

“Then pay me the bare minimum.” You’d counter.

”I-I don’t think I have the funds to afford another employee, you see…”

“No… No, I get it. Thanks for hearing me out, though.” You’d force a smile, letting everyone know who was involved that YOU know it was complete, and utter bullshit.

You don’t actually want a job, you don’t want to work for free. You just want something to do. You need new stimuli and the Ruins cannot provide that for you.

”it’s just a shame…” Napstablook tells the smiley skeleton, “but she doesn’t have a lot of options…”

After seeing each other every day for the past week, Sans and Napstablook have built a small routine with each other.

If Sans manages to catch the ghost BEFORE entering the Ruins, then Sans will have a ghost-friendly snack to share as Napstablook tells him the plans you two have for the day. If Sans catches the ghost AFTER, then they’ll both share what their day was like (aka, Sans trying to know more about you while giving short answers when it was his turn to share).

Right now, Napstablook and Sans were munching on some hot cats, talking about your sad day yesterday. In a little bit, he’s going to have to wrap this up so he’s not late.

“hm, guess the monsters in the ruins are still a little close-minded about humans,” Sans gives an honest opinion, “if the human is actually as nice as you say, then it has nothin’ to do with her, and everything to do with her just being human.”

‘you keep saying that…’ Napstablook thinks to himself. ‘“If she is actually this or that”… why do you distrust humans so much…? especially this one…?’

“i feel so bad for her. i can tell she’s getting exhausted…”

“why can’t she just leave the ruins then?”

“it’s not safe…” Napstablook hesitates for a moment, “not just because she’s human, either… there’s a monster who almost killed her when she first fell down… according to miss toriel, anyway… that’s the real reason why miss toriel asked me to hang out with the human. so i can make sure she can safely leave the house and watch out for that monster…”

Sans freezes for a second.

Napstablook is obviously talking about Flowey. He wouldn’t put it past that invasive weed to try and immediately kill a human that isn’t Frisk at this point. But Frisk was also almost killed by Flowey, but not once in ANY time line was Toriel THIS worried about their safety. Other than asking Sans to make sure that Frisk doesn’t die (not that he ever bothered to do that either), Toriel never made this much of a fuss over a human.

What kind of fucked up shit did Flowey do to you?? And why are you cowering so much?

…

Wait.

This gives Sans a great idea.

“hey, blook,” Sans’ grin widens noticeably, “i think i got a good idea to help out your friend. but uh… we might gotta be a little sneaky about it to work.”

Napstablook gives the other a (rightfully) hesitant look. “what do you have in mind…?”

⁠────

Napstablook gives you a small smile, waving goodbye in spirit (hah) as you go into the house. It was another good day, albeit a little shorter than usual since he has something else he has to do. You were a little dejected about it, but you didn’t put up a fight.

At first, Sans’ plan seemed out of nowhere and sketchy. Not that he’d ever have the courage to say that to the skeleton’s face of course. Sans never showed much trust or faith for you, so his plan to “help you out” doesn’t sit very well with Napstablook. No, he doesn’t think Sans is going to do anything erratical, but…

After spending this day with you, Napstablook decided that he can’t allow you to go down this path. Sans’ plan is sketchy, but it’s also your best shot at finally leaving the Ruins.

It does not take long to find Toriel. Again, the Ruins are small, and there are only so many places one can be. He managed to find her leaving the Spider Bake sale with a few spider donuts, and a jar of spider cider.

Uh oh. You two had already bought some before getting you back home since you were complaining this morning that you wanted to help their cause. It seemed that Toriel had heard you and wanted to treat you to a surprise.

Toriel blinks at the ghost’s appearance, “Oh, Napstablook. Is [Y/n] safe at home?”

“yes, miss toriel…”

“I already told you just—Never mind,” She shakes her head with a smile, “Was there something you needed?”

“ah, yeah… i wanted to talk to you about [y/n]… you must’ve noticed it, right…?”

Her expression falters, and her smile becomes crestfallen, “Yes, I… I cannot deny the truth that is right in front of me. [Y/n] insists constantly that she is content with staying in the Ruins, especially because we have yet to find that flower monster. But I know this is no place for someone like her to spend her time.”

“i really enjoy her company, and i don’t mind coming here to see her… i don’t go out a lot, but even i still have a lot of places i can to go to make up for it…”

Napstablook avoids eye contact as he continues, “i know it’s scary-for you and [y/n]-but… it’s something to think about…  she can’t stay here forever…”

Toriel looks down, “Yes. Yes, you are correct. I will give it more thought. Thank you, Napstablook. It’s comforting to know that [Y/n] already has another friend who cares for her dearly.”

“she’s a good friend… i’d hate to see her get worse…” Napstablook starts to back up, “i-i need to go now, but… give it some thought… for her….”

”I will. Thank you, Napstablook. I will be seeing you tomorrow, correct?”

“yes, miss toriel… see you tomorrow…”

“Goodbye, Napstablook.”

Napstablook floats away, leaving the goat monster to her thoughts. She sighs through her nose, walking back to her home… Her home with you…

Toriel doesn’t want you to leave. You are quickly becoming one of her best friends already, and she adores you. You two have bonded so closely, and shared each other’s souls. In her long, long life, the only ones she had allowed to see her soul (outside of battler) were Asgore and Asriel. And you—You didn’t hesitate for a second to share your soul in return. Your beautiful, fragile, human soul that, after a brief look, had NO defense at all.

You trusted her-you trust her so adherently. She doesn’t know if she can bear to lose you if something happened to you. She doesn’t want to leave the Ruins, but she doesn’t want you to go off on your own. Perhaps it’s overbearing, but it’s better to be safe and sorry.

Maybe…

Maybe it’s time to finally tell him.

⁠────

Step one of the plan has been done. Once Napstablook told Sans exactly how the exchange went, the skeleton looked proud. He can tell that the ghost does not fully trust him, but Sans has no qualms about it. After all, the only time Sans has ever gone out of his way to speak to Napstablook is about the human. The skeleton knows he did a shit job at trying to conceal that he doesn’t trust you.

It’s actually reassuring in a way to know that Napstablook doesn’t trust blindly, even if they’re “on the same team.”

After sharing briefly about each other’s day, Napstablook headed home to work on some remix of a song you played on the piano about a week ago. Conveniently, this is the day he usually speaks to Toriel, so he opted to stay back, sitting against the door for a short nap.

Sans only gets to nap for fifteen minutes when a familiar knocking pattern on the Ruin doors rouses him from his sleep. It takes him a moment to reorientate himself, but in a few seconds, he’s knocking back.

”Hello, old friend,” Toriel greets rather… seldomly.

Sans feigns confusion, “hey, you okay?”

”Yes, I am fine. There’s just–something weighing on my mind, I suppose.”

”well, you know you are always more than welcome to tell me what’s bothering you,” Sans hums, “only if you wanna share, no pressure.”

There’s a silence between them for a moment. Sans doesn’t rush her; he pulls out his blue comb to brush his beautiful, lucious skull. Actually, he just has the comb to scratch his head since his gloves don't let him do it right. After a few minutes, she finally opens up.

“I have a confession to make, but…. Please, hear me out first.”

”yeah, of course.”

“For the past month, I’ve been housing a human. An adult human woman.”

Wait, you’re an adult?? Napstablook had him believing this whole time that you were just some kid. He probably kept away that information on purpose. The skeleton barely hid his dislike for you, it would've been ten-fold if he knew you were much older.

Huh.

Good on Napstablook.

“Her name is [Y/n], and she has been nothing but a sweetheart and a delight. She’s so funny, and she’s incredibly smart. Ah-ha ha! I sometimes have trouble keeping up with some of the things she’ll share with me. Her humor is all over the place, I think you’d enjoy her jokes, too.”

You have Toriel wrapped around your finger too, huh? Napstablook wasn’t enough for you? No…No, Sans is just being unfair now. You are not Frisk. You might not even know what the hell is going on and you’re staying with Toriel because of that promise of protection from Flowey. He wishes that was enough to reassure him, but he’s just… he can’t be too careful.

“sounds like you really care for this human,” Sans hesitates for a second, but he needs to ask. For his own sake. “she isn’t… you’re sure she’s good?”

“Hm,” Toriel huffs out a small laugh, “Just the other day, she willingly showed me her soul, even after I thoroughly explained what it means here in the Underground to do something like that.”

“she what?”

You—Are you stupid or just overly trusting?! Sans barely lets Papyrus see his damn soul and his brother is one of the few people that Sans will never feel any different for even after so many Resets. Papyrus has shown his soul many times, but never pressed Sans into doing the same because he understands.

For you, someone who is supposedly SO intelligent, to trust a boss monster so willingly even when Toriel had explained it to you…

Crap, but that totally means you’re familiar with the sensation of someone looking at your soul now. Sans won’t be able to look at your stats without you knowing. He normally wouldn’t give a shit if that were the case, but it’s going to be more awkward when you know what it means to share your soul with someone.

“[Y/n] is very precious to me, so… so when the first day she arrived, there was a monster who nearly killed her… it had put me on edge in a way that I’ve never felt before.”

She must be talking about Flowey. Sans still doesn’t understand why it’s such a big deal this time when Frisk was almost killed by Flowey too.

“really? do you remember what the monster looked like?” Still, Sans has to ask to keep up appearances.

“It was a flower, I believe. It’s strange, I’ve never seen any other monster like it.”

Yeahhh, crazy…

“is this why you’ve been keeping her in the ruins and not telling anyone about it?”

“Yes, precisely. We’ve come to the agreement that she wouldn’t leave our home alone since we were worried that if she was alone, the flower would come back to kill her.”

Right, Sans knows this (now) thanks to Napstablook.

”But lately, I’ve noticed a change in her behavior. She’s been more reclusive, and she isn’t as energetic as she used to be. [Y/n] would also tell me that when she tries to get hired just so she can have something to do, she’s turned away because she’s human.”

Yikes. Sans might not like you very much (nothing personal, he just doesn’t like humans), but even he thinks that’s pretty fucked. From the sounds of it, you really are just trying to live peacefully with the situation you’re given. Staying with Toriel. Trying (and failing) to get a job. Literally doing what you can to survive a psychopathic flower.

…Maybe Sans’ mental image of you is a little harsher than what the truth actually is.

“[Y/n]’s only other friend suggested this, and I’m reluctant to agree with him, but this isn’t just about me. I want [Y/n] to be happy, too.”

“what are you thinking?”

”My friend, if it’s not too much to ask, and if it’s not too much of a burden,” Toriel takes a deep breath, “can I entrust you to watch over [Y/n]?”

Sans’ grin widens. Seems like his plan worked.

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

[hippiegoth97]

Diary of A Hawkins Hussy: A Stranger Things x Reader Anthology

Banner by me :)

Master List

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, alcohol use, groping, fingering, oral sex, age gap, grinding, mutual masturbation, mentions of suicide, mentions of death, grief/trauma, crying, LGBTQ+ references

Word Count: 13.6k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Diary Entry #2: Joyce Byers

October 31st, 1983

Dear diary,

Tonight is Halloween. I was stuck working in the store all by myself, while all the children of Hawkins ran wild around town asking every shop owner for candy. I'd been looking forward to going to Haley Durkis' party, a little booze and meaningless sex would've really hit the spot. But alas, Mr. Harris had other plans for me. It wasn't all bad, though. I got to play spooky music in the shop, and see all the adorable costumes while handing out treats. Ghosts, witches, little supermen and wonder women, the kids really had some great choices this year.

The highlight of the evening, though, was when Joyce Byers came by with her son Will. He was dressed up as a wizard, with a cloak and pointy hat and everything. I've seen them around a lot, Will and his friends love to come in the shop and browse around. They'repolite, and sweet, and try their best to buy something, even if they don't have much money. Joyce works across the street at Melvald's, so I see her quite a lot as well. She's such a beautiful woman, I've always admired her. Raising two sons all on her own, while single-handedly keeping Melvald's from falling to pieces. She is a force to be reckoned with, despite her welcoming nature.

Me and Joyce talk pretty often, I go over there to get a new romance novel every once in a while, as well as necessities I need at home. She asks me lots of questions, mainly about my adjustment to life after high school. And she seems to genuinely care about what I have to say. I can talk to her about anything, and she's never judgemental. Not only that, she gives the best hugs when I really need them. Her grip is firm, and nurturing. I can't help but melt into her when she holds me like that, while catching a whiff of her cigarettes and fruity shampoo.

So many times, I've wanted to pull back a little within her embrace and kiss her. But Ican't exactly do that. Not out in the open in a town like Hawkins. Plus, I'm not even sure she'd be okay with it. There's no real way to tell if she's interested in women, or me, without putting myself out on a limb. One can dream, I suppose. Who knows, maybe an opportunity will come up for me to ask her about it. Even if she isn't interested, I have a feeling she wouldn't be weird about it. She'd probably let me down easy, while also saying she's very flattered.

November 2nd, 1983

Dear diary,

I talked to Joycetoday. She came around the shop on her lunch break to browse, she's very partial to Barbara Streisand. She told me that Will is having trouble at school, and that him and his friends are being picked on a lot. Poor kids, they're far too sweet and sensitive for their own good. It's like bullies have some weird radar that points out optimal targets. I was never very popular in school myself. I mean, I did alright, and had a couple of friends. But most of the time, I was on my own. Shit, kids are fuckin' mean, and that's an understatement. But those boys have each other, and I can tell their bond is strong enough to withstand anything.

In other news, I've finally got my own car. When I moved out, Mom wouldn't let me drive hers around anymore. But luckily my apartment is downtown anyway, a couple blocks from work. I saved up whatI could and got a little junker from Carl's Used Car Lot. She's nothing special, and a bit rusty. But she gets me where I need to go, and Idon't have much need for anything else. It's a little sad to not need rides from Joyce anymore, but Ican't rely on her to cart me around everywhere. I am an independent woman, after all.

November 6th, 1983

Dear diary,

Something strange happened tonight. I had just locked up at Waxed Out for the night, and I drove home to my apartment. The streets were quiet, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I got home, put a TV dinner into the microwave, and changed into my pajamas to relax. But before my meal could be fully cooked, the lights started flickering, and there was a low humming sound in the entire place. I thought it was really weird, so I peeked out of the curtains at my window. Every house, building, street lamp, and car was blinking on and off, just like everything in my apartment. This went on for a good thirty seconds, before the power went out entirely.

The police have been patrolling around all night since the incident, reassuring everyone that the issue will be investigated and resolved through the speakers on their cruisers. I still don't have power, and had to resort to crackers for dinner. I don't want to let all the cold out of the fridge, and that TV dinner was still frozen solid. I'mwriting this now using an old flashlight I found in my closet. It's not working so well, the beam is very dim, and keeps threatening to go out altogether. But I definitely don't have any spare batteries for it. All I can do is wait for daylight to come, and hope that the power will be restored.

November 7th, 1983

Dear diary,

Will Byers has gone missing. I know, those words don't seem right, do they? People don't go missing in shitty little towns like Hawkins. There's no kidnappings, no murders, no robberies at gunpoint, no rape. Not here. Not until now, I suppose. Joyce has been a mess today, running all over town to ask anyone if they've seen him. She filed a report with Chief Hopper this morning, and then came right over to talk to me...

"Morning, Joyce! How are you?" You greet her as she walks into the shop, assuming this is another typical interaction between the two of you. But you notice her rapid pace, and the worried look on her beautiful face. Something is very wrong.

"I'm a bit worried, if I'm honest. I don't know where Will is. He wasn't at home this morning, and Mike's parents say he didn't spend the night after their game." Joyce says, her voice trembling. "Have you seen him at all?" She asks desperately, hoping just one person can tell her where her little boy is.

"I'm sorry, Joyce. I haven't. But I'll keep an eye out, alright? I'm sure he'll turn up soon, he's not the kind of kid to get himself into trouble." You do your best to reassure her, placing your hand over hers on the countertop. "And if you need anything, you know where I am. Okay?"

"Of course. Thank you, Y/N." She nods, gazing down at your hand touching hers for a moment. It's like her mind goes somewhere else, if only for a second. She snaps out of it, and looks up to give you a forced smile. "I should get going, I've got a lot of people to talk to today. And please, call me if you find out anything." She pleads, held-back tears staining her words.

"I will, Joyce. Good luck." You reply, and she heads out the door without another word. She steps outside, turning around frantically to figure out where to go next. She eventually turns left, towards the hardware store. "Poor woman." You say aloud, though no one is around to hear it. You hope Will is found, he's such a sweet boy. You can't possibly think of how he'd end up missing, or who would potentially hurt him. It doesn't make sense, bad things don't happen here. They aren't supposed to.

...I spent the rest of my shift thinking about Joyce. How scared she looked, how her voice was shaking. Shit, I just hope Will is alright. Maybe he skipped school with his friends, or just got a little lost in the woods. But neither of those things sound like him at all. He's not the type to ditch, or not know his way around. Will and his little group of friends are very smart, and extremely well-behaved. Ugh, none of it makes a lick of sense, diary. If something did happen to him, it would certainly be a town first. Look, I'm not saying any child should be a victim, but of all the children in this town, why him? Will is so sweet, and kind, the one least deserving of such an awful fate.

When it was time to close up shop, Ididn't spend a second longer on the street than I needed to. I gathered my things, locked the door the fastest I ever have in my entire life, and practically ran the couple of blocks home. My damn car got fried last night, so I had to hoof it. I almost dropped my keys trying to get into my apartment once I finally got there.. I know my fear was probably highly irrational. But for the first time in my life, Ididn't feel safe in my own neighborhood.

I felt this sinking sensation of dread in my stomach as I trudged through the night. Every little sound spooked me, and I was on high alert to make sure no one was following me. The darkness was suddenly full of things waiting to jump out at me, any dim street lamp offering slim slivers of refuge in between the thick blankets of pitch black. I can't explain it, but once nightfall hit, Hawkins became threatening to my senses. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's been troubled with these unfamiliar emotions. Fear, paranoia, primal survival instincts kicking in for the very first time in every last citizen of this shithole town.

To my knowledge, there's still no sign of Will. There's a search party combing the woods tonight, but Ican't bring myself to join them. I'm far too afraid. If someone took that child, they could very well be out there. Either hiding, or joining the search to cover their ass. But beyond that, I'm afraid of finding sweet little Will out there. I don't want to think it, I really don't. But what if they find his body out there? Mangled by an animal, or some maniac? Or drowned in the quarry, floating on the surface like a piece of driftwood?

I can barely stomach it, much less my dinner. Thankfully, the power has been restored at least. Although, the oncoming storm tonight could easily knock it out again. If these lights go out on me, I just know I'll scream. I can't be here all alone in the dark, with a storm roaring just outside the window. Not when someone could be out there, in the darkness, hunting for their next victim. Shit, maybe Iwatch too many movies.

November 8th, 1983

Dear diary,

Last night is a total blur. I was force feeding myself some crackers again, trying my hardest not to think of murderers and corpses in the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep, much as I tried, I'd even started drinking. I had some silly rented video on, something light to keep me sane. The rain was pouring down onto all of Hawkins, with clashing thunder and lightning whirling around in the air. I'd curled myself up in a blanket on the couch, hoping the soft fabric would protect me from anything lurking out there.

Color me surprised when I heard frantic knocking on my door. I practically jumped off the couch in fright, holding back a scream to spare the neighbors who were no doubt struggling to sleep themselves. I reluctantly got off the couch, blanket still bundled around me. I crept over to the door, looking through thepeephole. And who did I see standing outside my door in the pouring rain? Joyce Byers, soaked to the bone and shivering...

"Joyce?" You murmur to yourself in confusion. What is she doing here so late? You quickly open the door to let her inside. "Joyce, what are you doing here? Did something happen? Did you find Will?" You ask as she shuffles into your home. You close the door and lock it tight. She takes off her thick leather coat, draping it over your armchair. She crosses her arms over herself, trying to warm up.

"No, they haven't found him yet. But, I—" She starts to speak, fumbling her words. She gestures helplessly, trying to find her train of thought. But it doesn't come, and she bursts into tears.

"Hey, hey. Come here, sit down." You go to her, leading her to the couch as she cries. She's shaking like a leaf, and cold to the touch. "Shit, you must be freezing. I'll make you some tea, okay? And then you can tell me what happened." You say kindly, and she nods. You take your blanket off yourself, and put it around her shoulders. She holds it tight to her body, looking into the distance without really acknowledging you. You go to your little kitchen, and fill up your kettle with water at the sink. You put it on the stove, and take out two mugs and some chamomile tea. You open up the bags, placing one in each cup. You also put in some honey, and a splash of whiskey. You could certainly use it, and it appears Joyce could, too. Once the water is ready, you fill up the mugs and give them a good stir. You bring them both over very carefully, setting them on the table. "Here we go. They'll have to steep a minute."

"Thank you." She says meekly, tears rolling down her wet cheeks.

"Do you want to borrow some clothes? I can toss yours in the dryer for a bit." You offer, but she shakes her head.

"No, I'll be alright. I won't be here long. I just— needed to get out of that house. I walked right out the front door, and ended up here." Joyce sounds so afraid, far more so than she was this morning. It seems like there's something more that's happened since she last spoke to you.

"I can understand that. Sitting by the phone and waiting for the cops to call can't be very fun." You reply, and your words only upset her more. She starts crying again, quickly becoming hysterical. "Oh, my god. Joyce, I'm sorry." You move to sit with her on your sofa as opposed to the armchair. You'd wanted to give her space, but you're not sure that's what she needs now. You put an arm around her, watching helplessly as her head goes into her hands. "Can you tell me what happened?" You ask, though you don't want to push.

"You'll think I'm crazy." She whimpers, the words muffled against her palms as she shakes her head.

"Joyce, you're not crazy. You are one of the sanest people I know. You can tell me, whatever it is." You reassure her to the best of your ability.

She sighs, removing her hands after running them over her face to wipe the tears away. She turns her head to look at you, such a beautifully pained expression splayed across her features. "You promise you won't tell me I'm nuts?" She asks, letting out a small laugh. Not at the words, but at the idea of trying to convince another person that what she experienced tonight wasn't all in her head.

"I promise." You nod seriously. She takes a moment to gather herself, reaching for her tea that appears to be steeped enough now. She doesn't drink from it yet, but holds it in her icy hands to warm them up.

"Okay. I was at home with Jonathan tonight. We were waiting for Hop to call with any updates, and the phone rang." She starts, bringing the mug to her lips now. She takes a big sip, almost spitting it out at the discovery of the booze in it. "Jesus, is there whiskey in this!?" She forces herself to swallow as to not make a mess on your carpet.

"Yeah, I figured you could use it." You explain, and she nods. Joyce takes another large drink, and continues.

"You're damn right about that. Anyway, the phone rings, and I pick it up. I couldn't make out much, but I could hear—" She pauses again, her breath catching as another wave of tears threatens to spill out.

"Joyce, it's alright. Take your time." You say softly, rubbing her shoulders to comfort her. She hums quietly at your touch, her stomach fluttering at the feeling. She doesn't know why, but your warm hands touching her cold body is making her feel...really good right now. It must just be the alcohol, and the much-needed comfort of a friend. That's all. Isn't it?

"I know, I'm sorry. I just feel like I'm going insane!" She lets out another shaky laugh, and polishes off her tea in one final gulp. She sets the mug on the table, and finishes her story. "I could hear breathing...Will's breathing." Joyce says, looking into your eyes again. "And I could hear this weird noise, like something else, or someone else, was there with him. I kept calling out to him, trying to get an answer. But then, I don't know...lightning struck the house or something, because the phone shocked me and got completely fried." She gives you a look, like she's waiting for you to tell her she's a nutcase and throw her back out into the rain.

"I...don't really know what to say..." You speak apprehensively, absorbing her words for a moment.

"I know, it's crazy. I-I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry for keeping you up so late." She tries to stand up and leave, but you put your hands on her shoulders to stop her. Her eyes snap to yours, wondering what you're up to.

"Look, Joyce. I'm so sorry that Will is missing, and that it seems like someone has taken him. I don't have an explanation for you...but, I don't think you're crazy. Okay? Not one bit." You give her a warm smile, and she slowly returns it. She leans into you for a hug, her head resting on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around her sopping body, trying your best to warm her up. She's still so cold, and shivering violently. You hope she won't get sick, and you wish she'd let you lend her some clothes.

"Thank you, Y/N." She says quietly, the words sounding like music to your ears. You selfishly find yourself thinking about kissing her again. You know it's wrong to be focusing on your attraction to her, when what she needs right now is your support. As her friend. But you can't help it. She's here, in your apartment, her body pressed firmly against yours after she's been standing in the rain. It all feels oddly romantic. You don't expect anything to happen, she's too concerned about her son to think about you in that way right now.

"Should I make more tea? Or do you just want the whiskey?" You ask.

"Just the whiskey, please." Joyce answers, still clinging to you. The moisture in her clothes is transferring through yours, making your nipples show through your t-shirt. She slowly pulls away, eyes flicking down to your chest in reflex. She doesn't mean to look, but she could feel them hardening against her from the cold. You follow her gaze, realizing that it looks like you've just competed in a particularly misogynistic contest. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get you all wet. I'm probably ruining your couch, too." She says apologetically, not fully realizing how potentially dirty her words sound to you.

"No, no! It's fine!" You reply, a little too loud. A harsh blush creeps up your cheeks, and you snatch her mug off the table to get her a refill. "Let me get you that drink." You say awkwardly. You're thankful that the placement of the kitchen puts your back to her for a moment, giving you a break from meeting her eyes. Your shaky hand reaches for the bottle of Jack on the counter, and you struggle to open it up and pour it nicely into her cup. You spill some on the counter in your tremors. "Shit." You mutter, going for the dish towel to wipe up the mess.

"I'm sorry if I'm making you nervous, Y/N." Joyce says quietly, having got off the couch to assist you. She puts her hand over yours, helping you dry up the spilled alcohol. You can feel her shoulder brush against your back through the motion, which makes your breath hitch.

"It's fine. Really." You reply unconvincingly.

"I do that a lot, don't I?" She asks knowingly, causing you to gasp.

"Yeah." Is all you can manage to say in response. You turn around to look at her, finding a calm smile on her face. It's odd, really. She was so upset a minute ago, and now she's...flirting?

"Come on, sweetie. Let's sit and talk." Joyce says, grabbing her mug, and the bottle. You follow her wordlessly to the couch, sitting right next to her again. You're stiff as a board at this point. You never expected her to know that you like her in this way, let alone acknowledge it. "Relax, Y/N. It's okay." She says sweetly, which is still freaking you out.

"Joyce, we really don't have to talk about this right now. Your son is missing, and I don't want to take away from that." You try to shut this down. As much as you want to tell her how you feel, and possibly have her reciprocate, the timing isn't right.

"Y/N, please. I know this sounds weird and everything, but I need a distraction. We can talk about something else if you really want to. But, I'm going to lose my mind if I don't take a second to stop fixating on Will." She explains, sounding a bit frustrated. She's highly conflicted about the situation you seem to have found yourselves in. She feels like a bad Mom for wanting to not think about her missing baby boy for even a single moment. But what else can she do? The phone at home is fucked, Hopper is doing all he can, and Jonathan is holding down the fort for the time being. Stewing all night isn't going to help anyone, as awful as the alternative sounds.

"No, I— I get it. We can talk. What do you want to know?" You reply, fully understanding where she's coming from. If you were in her shoes, you'd probably do the same thing.

"Well, I already know you've got a crush on me." Joyce says with a laugh. You don't say anything, freezing up again. She gives you a look, and sighs before taking another sip of whiskey. You've totally forgotten about your tea, quickly picking up your mug to catch up to her. You've already had a couple tonight, but it wouldn't hurt to have a little more. "Y/N, there's nothing to be so afraid of. It's really flattering, actually."

"I'm glad you think so, but...I doubt you feel the same." You say sheepishly, refusing to look at her. This is all too crazy. You're thinking and feeling so many things at once, you're bound to short-circuit any second now.

"I wouldn't say that." Joyce replies softly, placing a hand on your trembling knee. Your eyes go straight to it, but you shake your head in denial.

"This is insane." You breathe.

"Why? You're very pretty, Y/N." She smiles, giving you a gentle squeeze.

Against your own interest, you try to convince her —and yourself— that this can't seriously be happening. "Joyce, please. You're killing me here. You're just tipsy, and upset about Will, and—" She interrupts you by lifting your chin up with her other hand. Her eyes meet yours, and she leans in the press a feather-light kiss to your lips. Before you can think to say anything else, or stop yourself, you grab both sides of her face to hold her closer to you. Your mouth moves with hers, earning another one of those light hums from her at your warmth. You both sit in this moment for what feels like hours, gently turning your heads and moving your lips together.

"You're a really good kisser, Y/N." Joyce says when she pulls away slightly. You keep hold of one another, catching your breath as you take in the gravity of what you've just done. "Have you ever been with a woman before?" She asks, very curious about your prior experience.

"Yes. Well, girls my age back in school." You answer, and she nods at this piece of information. "Have you?" You ask the question back at her.

"No. I never thought I could. Until now." She almost whispers the words, surprised at herself for uttering them at all.

"We don't have to do this if it's too weird." You say, giving her a way out. She can let this all go, blame it on the stress and alcohol and be on her way. You'll never speak of it again, and try not to let things be excruciatingly awkward between the two of you.

"It's not weird. It's...nice." She gives you a reassuring smile, wanting to kiss you again. "Please, Y/N. Let me forget for a little while." She pleads, a light whine lacing her tone.

"Okay." You say softly, pressing your lips to hers again. You take the lead this time, slowly helping her lie down on the couch. Her head meets the armrest, and you kneel above her as you continue to kiss. She makes the sweetest noises against you, which rapidly spreads arousal between your legs. "Can I touch you?" You ask.

"Yes." She answers breathlessly, and you immediately reach for the buttons of her Melvald's uniform. You pop them open one at a time, until the dark blue fabric falls open to reveal her bra. It's lacey and white, the typical mom bra. But it looks gorgeous against her alabaster skin.

"You're beautiful, Joyce." You compliment her, moving your head down to kiss her neck. She moans quietly, like she's trying to keep the noise down. "I wanna hear you, baby. Don't hide your noises from me." You speak lowly against her throat, before sucking on her flesh.

"This feels really good, Y/N." Joyce murmurs, her hands going to your hair to tangle inside it. Your own reach for her chest now, cupping her breasts. They're round, and firm, and you're so happy to finally be touching them. The amount of times you've thought about this is far too many to count.

"Sit up a little." You instruct, backing away slightly to let her up. She does as you ask, and you straddle her lap. You rid her of her soaked shirt, and latch onto her neck again as you reach around to unclasp her bra. The straps fall down her shoulders, and it joins her top shortly after. You back up to look at her chest, licking your lips at the sight. "Damn." You mutter, leading her to lie down once more. You waste no time in planting hot kisses on her chest, leaving a trail of saliva on your journey to her left nipple.

"Y/N." Joyce moans once your lips close around her sensitive bud. Her hips buck upward against yours, sending a flare of pleasure between your legs. She's already such a mess, and you've barely done anything to her yet.

"Are you enjoying yourself, baby?" You ask, licking purposeful circles around her nipple while looking up at her.

"Yes." She answers, making you smile. You move on to her other tit, wanting to give it equal attention. While you do that, your hand lowers downward to the button of her pants. "Wait." She blurts, and you stop. You cease your actions, checking with her to see what's wrong. "I just— I want to touch you, too. Please." Joyce says with intense need.

"Of course, anything you want." You smirk, sitting up. She watches you closely as you pull the hem of your shirt towards your head. You toss it to the floor, your tits bouncing at being released from their cloth prison. Her eyes boggle at your body, she's never seen such a beautiful young woman before.

"Wow, you're gorgeous." She says in disbelief, making you giggle. She brings her hands up, slowly moving them toward your bare chest. She pauses just before her skin meets yours, and she looks at you expectantly.

"Go ahead, Joyce." You give her an affirming nod, smiling wider at her polite apprehension. Joyce's ice-cold fingers meet your tits, making you gasp at the contrast in temperature. "Fuck." It feels so good, finally having the woman you've been pining after touch you in such intimate ways. She massages your chest, watching your expressions change as she caresses you. Joyce carefully rolls your nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, which makes you head fall back slightly. She's being so gentle with you, and it's better than you ever could have imagined.

"Is this good?" She asks, sounding very unsure of herself despite your sexy noises. All this excitement is making her very wet, while swarms of butterflies flap about inside her stomach. This is all so thrilling, and new. And she can't think of a better person to do this with.

"Yes, baby. You can use your mouth, too. If you want." You suggest with a cheeky grin.

"Okay." Joyce whispers, she leans in towards your chest, settling on sucking on your right breast. Her warm lips meet your pebbled flesh, and you're overcome with a wave of heat washing over you. You want her so badly, to fuck her and make her scream your name. But she's new to this, so you have to take your time.

"That's really good, baby. You can bite it a little, gently, of course." You offer, and she doesn't hesitate to try it. You gasp aloud at the sensation, putting your arms around her to keep her close. You let her continue to suck and nibble on your tits, rewarding her with praises and moans to help her feel confident in this.

"I want more, Y/N." Joyce murmurs, pulling her lips away from you now.

"Of course. Can you lay back down for me?" You ask sweetly, running your finger along her cheek. She does as you ask, and you scoot down her legs a little. You reach for the button of her pants again, flicking your eyes to hers to make sure she's alright.

"Go ahead. I want this." She insists. You slowly push the button open, and slide her zipper down its track. You keep your eyes on hers, watching her pupils widen as you slide a hand inside her jeans. You slip across her lower stomach, and underneath her panties. Your fingers brush against her clit, making her gasp. "Fuck." You keep going, still watching her for any objections. You slowly stroke her soaked pussy, teasing her bundle of nerves and entrance. "Y/N." Joyce moans, becoming more needy for you by the second. Everything you do feels so damn good, and you know exactly where and how to touch her.

"Does that feel good, Joyce? Do you want more?" You ask seductively, increasing your pace a little. She's so fucking wet, and it's all because of you.

"Yes, please." She begs. You slowly press one finger inside her cunt, making her eyes roll back into her head. "Oh, god..." Her hips buck again, making you chuckle darkly.

"More?" You ask again, wanting her to tell you exactly what she wants.

"More..." She nods frantically, her eyes fallen shut from the pleasure. You insert another finger, and start curling them inside her pussy nice and slow. "Fuck, Y/N. That feels so good." She groans. You love hearing her swear, she really doesn't do it all that often.

"You wanna touch me too, baby?" You question.

"God, yes." She instantly sits upright again, despite her pleasure rapidly building as you keep fingering her. Her hand frantically goes for the hem of your lounging shorts, and she slides right under the thin fabric to find that you're not wearing any underwear. Her hand stops in its tracks again, waiting for permission.

"It's okay, go ahead." You say softly, breathing heavily in anticipation. She nods in affirmation, and carefully drags her fingers along your slit. "Fuck—" You gasp, your breath catching in your throat. She takes this as a sign to journey further, mimicking your actions to bring her fingertips to your soaked hole. She keeps her eyes glued to yours, a sly smile forming on her face. Joyce pushes her middle finger inside your pussy, following your lead as she has done this whole time. You moan at her filling you up, begging with your eyes for another. She obliges, her ring finger joining the other. "Joyce..." You sigh blissfully, the both of you pausing a moment to catch your breath. You gaze at one another lustfully, waiting for the one of you to start moving again. You take the reins once more, pumping your fingers in and out of her cunt at a casual pace. Your knuckles curve just so to hit her g spot, drawing a muted whimper from her lips.

She mirrors you again, moving her digits inside you at the same speed and cadence. "Am I doing this right, Y/N?" She asks through a moan.

"Yeah, you're doing so good. Fuck, you're so wet, baby." You purr, speeding up just a little bit. Joyce does, too. She's a fast learner, that's for sure. You're still straddling her just above the knees, giving you both space to access one another. You're breathing heavily in each other's faces, a thick cloud of lust dizzying your heads as the air thins around you. You're sweating profusely, wound up to an unbearable degree as you finger each other. You can feel a large knot tying itself inside you, rapidly twisting and turning as Joyce fucks you with her hand. You start grinding your hips to meet the rhythm you've set, rolling against her fingers to build yourself up faster. Joyce follows your lead again, doing her best to keep up. She moans louder at the added stimulation, which makes you pump your fingers faster inside her.

"Fuck, Y/N...you're really good at this. I'm getting close." She whines, putting her free hand on your shoulder for leverage as she continues to grind on you.

"So am I, baby. You're doing so well, go a little faster for me." You command, grabbing hold of her as well. She increases her speed to match yours, and your head falls forward slightly at the feeling. Her long fingers hit your sweet-spot perfectly, and you can't wait to cum on her hand. "That's it— fuck, right there." You lift your head up to meet her eyes, and she takes this opportunity to kiss you again. Your motions become frantic and desperate, all teeth and tongues as you continue to touch each other. Your nails dig into one another's shoulders as you hang on for dear life, and your orgasms are waiting for you just over the horizon. "C'mon, ride my hand, just like that." You encourage her, knowing you're both so very close.

"I'm so close, Y/N...you feel so fucking good...I want you to make me cum." Joyce begs, still rolling her hips like her life depends on it.

"I know, baby...we're almost there. We can cum together, mm, I'm gonna make such a mess for you." You reply, just as fucked for her as she is for you. You continue to kiss, and expertly use your fingers, and roll your pelvises to your heart's content, doing everything in your power to bring each other down. You can feel her walls fluttering around your digits, and your own have begun to tremble as well. "That's it, cum with me, Joyce. Let it all go." You say as your own knot finally snaps. "Fuck!" You cry out, your insides clamping around her fingers. You keep up your movements through your high, waiting for her own to come to pass.

"Y/N, I'm gonna—" Joyce tries to speak, but she's cut off by an obscenely loud moan ripping itself from her lungs as you've brought her to climax. Her thighs shake violently, as do yours. You feel her juices spill into your palm, some of which runs down your wrist. You cum messily around her, soaking your shorts completely. You clumsily share another kiss, moaning and gasping as you force your mouths together. You ride out your highs, left sweating and panting as you eventually collapse against one another. Your hands go still inside each other's cunts, and your heads rest on one another's shoulders until you can catch your breath. "That was amazing." Joyce huffs, her entire being buzzing with satisfaction.

"It really was." You reply, pressing a tired kiss to her bare shoulder. You both sit in comfortable silence for a while, basking in your afterglow as the storm rages on outside.

"I should probably get going." She says abruptly, swallowing hard. She hates the idea of leaving you, you've made her feel so good, so seen. You're the one person who hasn't treated her like she's some whacko. But she's also quickly becoming overwhelmed with guilt. Having sex? While her son is missing? In what world does that make sense?

"Oh, yeah. It's pretty late." You respond, doing your best to hide your sadness. You don't want her to leave, there's so much more you want to do with her. But you understand, she has another kid to look after.

You reluctantly remove your fingers from her pussy, bringing them up to your lips while she watches on. You take the wrinkled phalanges into your mouth, sucking her arousal from them. She's musky and sweet, the taste drawing a moan from your lungs.

"Uh..." She contemplates copying you again, but she looks very unsure of the prospect.

"You don't have to do that if you're not comfortable with it, Joyce." You laugh, and she does too.

"Sorry, I just...I've never seen someone do that before." She blushes hard at this confession, which you find so goddamned adorable.

"It's okay." You say kindly, before looking down between your legs. Her hand is still inside your shorts, fingers sheathed in your pussy. "Um, Joyce? You mind?" You ask awkwardly, and she finally remembers that her hand is still touching you.

"Oh, right! Sorry!" She giggles nervously, taking her hand away from you now. You hold back a whine at the loss, getting off of Joyce to pick up her clothes for her, as well as your shirt. You slip it back over your head, and she takes her time to redress. When you're both fully clothed again, you sit beside one another on the couch to say goodbye. "I had a really nice time, Y/N. Thank you for being here for me tonight." Joyce says sweetly, cupping your cheek in admiration.

"I had a good time, too. And I'm always here if you want to do this again." You smile, hoping she'll take you up on that offer.

"I'd like that." She gives you a light nod, and leans in for another gentle kiss. You gladly meet her in the middle, making her melt against you for a moment. You continue to kiss for a solid couple of minutes, until she puts a hand on your chest to pull away. "I have to go, sweetie. But I won't forget this, and I'd like to do this with you again, once all the craziness is over." She talks like she knows you don't want her to go home. That you'd rather she stay here all night, kissing and touching until the sun comes up. And as much as she wants to do all of that, she has more important things to worry about right now. The distraction was definitely earned and well worth it, but the time for selfish wishes is over now.

"I understand, Joyce." You nod, the two of you standing together to walk her to the door. "I'm so glad I could be here for you tonight. Now, you go find your son, okay? And you know where I'll be when you're ready." You open the door, and she steps outside. "Goodnight, Joyce. Get some rest."

"I'll try my best. Goodnight, Y/N." She smiles again, making your heart soar. She's been amazing tonight, and you're hopeful for what the future may hold for the two of you.

...so, it's safe to say that last night was perfect. It's hard to believe that it wasn't all a dream, but I got up this morning to find the mugs we drank out of still sitting on the coffee table. God, she was amazing, diary. Her inexperience was so cute, but she caught on very quickly. I suppose it shouldn't be hard for a woman to know how exactly to please another one. That's not to say we're all the same, far from it. I just mean that, withsimilar parts and all, it's easier to figure it out.

I can't stop replaying how it all went in my mind. Her soft lips on mine, making me melt with every kiss. Her supple breasts in my hands, a thin layer of rainwater slicked over them, the cold making her nipples erect. The way her pussy felt under my hand, so slick, with a small amount of hair on the outer parts. Fuck, I bet she looks beautiful underneath those pants. I didn't get to see, thanks to our haste in the heat of the moment. But next time, I'll make damn sure to see her in all her glory.

And that's not even the half of it. Every little moan and gasp she let out, it's what I imagine an angel would sound like, if I was into that kind of thing. Our little session didn't last nearly as long as I'd hoped it would, but all the anticipation and rushed actions definitely heightened the experience. I've never had an orgasm so fast in my life, except maybe by myself. I just hope that all this stuff with Will can be resolved, I've got to have another taste of Joyce as soon as possible.

November 9th, 1983

Dear diary,

The police found Benny Hammond dead at his restaurant, with a gaping bullet wound in his head. They claim it's a suicide, but that doesn't seem right. It's extremely odd timing, given Will's disappearance. I heard some people talking about it when they came in the shop earlier, it appears the rumor mill is running wild with this one. They said they heard some of Benny's regulars claim there was a young kid at the restaurant the night Will went missing. And, ergo, that Benny did something to the boy. Out of guilt, he then shot himself, according to them.

But Idon't buy that bullshit at all. Benny was a nice guy, he always took care of us kids when we'd come around to eat and hang out. His burgers were the best in town, outselling the Burger King every single time. But I suppose that'sover now, Benny never trusted anyone else to make his food. He knew how to make it perfect, anyone else would've sullied the timeless quality he strived for.

This news has done nothing to calm everyone down. If anything, it's made things worse. Everyone is giving one another sidewaysglances, avoiding hanging around any one location for too long. It's like we've all collectively forgotten that we know one another, that we're classmates, neighbors, family, friends. Everyone is a suspect, and simultaneously suspects everybody else. It's an eerie feeling, and even more unsettling that this newfound attitude has taken hold so quickly.

November 10th, 1983

Dear diary,

I can't believe I'm writing these words down. I don't want them to be true, my hand almost refuses to put them to the page. But...they found Will. His body was discovered last night at the Sattler Quarry, floating in the water. I don't know what to say, it's honestly a big shock. I can't stop thinking of Joyce, and Jonathan. They must be completely devastated. My heart breaks for them, and for Will. I thought about calling Joyce, or going over there to give my condolences. But, Idon't know what I could possibly say that would be useful to her. Her son is dead, I'm sure no possible arrangement of words would make that fact any less horrible.

I wonder...does she at least have closure now? Has this dreadful discovery let her stop worrying about where he is, or who may have taken him? As terrible as it is, has her mind been able to just...stop? Can she stop toiling over the possibilities now? Can she work towards grieving and accepting this, and eventually move on? I'd like to think so. Otherwise, she might just snap.

November 11th, 1983

Dear diary,

Today was Will's funeral. I'm surprised the family got the arrangements in order so quickly. But, I suppose there's no use in keeping Will locked away in a freezer. I went, as did quite a few people. Friends and neighbors, some of Will's classmates and teachers. It was a bleak affair, and I noticed Joyce's ex, Lonnie, basically clinging to her side like a leech. She's told me all about him, and he sounds like a total shithead. I'm not surprised he's used his own son's death as a way to worm his way back into her life, though.

The whole thing with them was odd, like she didn't want to be around him, or even at the funeral at all. It's like she thought it was all a sick joke, a farce. I found that a bit strange, and it only got weirder when she managed to get away from Lonnie and talk to me alone at the reception afterwards...

"Hey, um...Y/N?" Joyce says as she comes up to you. You've been sitting at a table at Will's funeral reception by yourself, nursing a plate of cheese cubes and deli meat. You're really just picking at it, you're not feeling particularly hungry today. But you perk up a little when you hear Joyce's voice say your name.

You look up at her, finding that same nervous woman that showed up at your door the other night. She's dressed all in black, as is customary for this kind of thing. But, besides the awful reason why she's wearing her black dress, she looks absolutely beautiful in it. She's usually more of a jeans kind of woman, which you love. But you've honestly never seen her look better than she does right now. "Hi, Joyce. What's up?" You ask casually, feeling unsure of how mournful you should sound as you speak.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" She asks, shifting her eyes around to see if Lonnie is looking for her.

"Uh, yeah, sure. What about?" You ask, finding her urgency rather odd.

"Come with me." Joyce takes hold of your hand, pulling you out of your chair before you can protest. You try your best to keep up, struggling to not fall over in your heels. She drags you through the less populated areas of the house hosting this little event, and finds a spacious closet. She opens the door when no one is looking, and pulls you inside with her. It's pitch dark in here, and there's various coats and shoes stored on the rack and shelves behind you.

"Joyce, what's going on—" You try to ask, but she cuts you off by grabbing your face and kissing you. You grunt in surprise against her, before immediately melting a second later. You're surprised at her risking someone finding you both in here, but you suppose grief makes one do some really weird shit. She pulls away from you a moment later, the both of you left out of breath afterwards.

"Sorry, I've been wanting to do that from the second you showed up to the cemetery." Joyce says with a small smile, which you return.

"It's okay. I felt the same way." You cup her cheek, preparing to lean in and kiss her again. But her face falls when she remembers the real reason she brought you in here.

"Hold on, Y/N. That's not why I needed to talk to you." She stops you, taking hold of your hand.

"Oh, okay." You say sadly.

"I know, sweetie. I just— I need you to listen to me, okay?" She speaks seriously, drawing your eyes to hers.

"Okay." You nod, wondering what this is about.

"Good. Now, I know this is going to sound absolutely insane. But that body we just buried? It's not Will." Joyce says, watching your eyes blow out wide.

"Joyce, I—" You shake your head, unable to understand. She saw the body, and signed for it, and held a funeral for it. How can it not be Will? "I don't understand. How is it not your son?" You ask curiously.

"I just know, Y/N. I swear to you, that...thing is not my boy. You don't have to believe me, but a mother knows these things. Everyone is telling me I'm wrong about this, but I can feel it. I've seen him, I've talked to him!" She goes on, explaining her way of communicating with her son through Christmas lights, and seeing him in a hole in the wall, trapped with some monster. It all sounds fucking nutso. You have half a mind to shout for help during her explanation, it's honestly frightening you how sincerely she believes all of this. But nonetheless, you listen to her. Joyce Byers isn't one to lie, or give merit to make-believe stories.

"Joyce, you know I care about you. But this all sounds..." You trail off, failing to find the words. You don't want to call her crazy. She's been called that plenty, and clearly doesn't care. You don't want to hurt her feelings, but you're so very confused at this point.

"I'm fully aware of how this sounds, Y/N. But you have to believe me. Somebody's got to." She says emphatically, almost breaking down in tears.

"Okay..." You take a second to mull it over, though it's difficult to gather your thoughts. You eventually nod, deciding to at least humor her. "Alright, Joyce. If you say these things are true, then I believe you." You reply, doing your best to comfort her. You pull her in for a hug, which she gladly folds herself into.

"Thank you, Y/N." She says, muffled against your shoulder and neck. You stroke her hair as you hold her close, breathing in the lovely scent of her dark brown locks. Your eyes close for a moment, savoring her warmth. You're sure she has to get back soon, Lonnie is probably losing his mind looking for her right now. Joyce lifts her head up to look at you, finding your kind eyes waiting for her. She smiles, raising a hand to cup your face. "I keep remembering how pretty you are every time I look at you." She says sweetly, barely above a whisper.

"So do I." You reply, unable to stop glancing down at her lips. She leans in, and you follow. Your mouths meet once again, drawing muted sounds of satisfaction from you both. You keep things relatively tame, just heated kisses with a dash of tongue in the mix. But anything else is deemed inappropriate, given where you happen to be at the moment. "Mmm." You hum against Joyce, and you're left wishing to stay in this sliver of time for as long as possible. You know in your heart that this cannot be, that this will be over before you know it. Joyce has bigger things to worry about right now than making out with you in some random closet.

"Joyce?" You hear a male voice calling for her, Lonnie, you assume. She pulls away, wiping a single tear that's fallen from her eye.

"I have to go, Y/N. But I really don't want to." Joyce says, sniffing softly. You're like her little light in all this darkness. You make her feel happy, and safe, and warm. She wishes she could bring you further into all the chaos surrounding her. Perhaps your presence would help her figure all this shit out. But she knows she can't. It wouldn't be fair to you, or to her boys. They need her full attention, and she's completely obligated to them above all else.

"I don't want you to go either, Joyce. But I understand. Will needs you, and so does Jonathan. Like I've said before, I'll be waiting until you're ready." You say calmly. You're willing to wait as long as it takes to see her again. You know your patience will be worth it.

"Thank you, sweetie." She smiles, before reaching for the door to peek outside of it.

"Joyce, what the hell are you doin' in there?" Lonnie asks as he comes up to the closet. You think fast, hiding yourself against the other side of the door so he doesn't see you.

"I-I just..." Joyce struggles to think of any excuse. "I just needed a moment, away from everyone. It's been a long day." She says nervously, hoping he buys it.

"Alright. Let's get ya home then. You need to rest." Lonnie says with a sigh, rolling his eyes a bit at Joyce hiding away from everyone.

"Okay." Joyce slips out of the closet, closing it behind her to leave you in the darkness. You give it a few minutes before you take a look to see if anyone's around. Finding no one, you slink out, and get your coat and purse to go home. You've had enough of this saddening day, and Joyce's strange confession to you didn't make it any more palatable.

November 13th, 1983

Dear diary,

Well, it turns out Joyce was right all along. Will was found barely alive in a cabin in the woods, of all places. The body they initially found was some other kid, rapidly decomposed from being in the water for a couple of days. His parents made an appearance on the news once they were notified. It's so strange, how could the cops have been so wrong? And why was some other random kid wandering around in a place where he isn't even from? The family lives two towns over, that's miles and miles away. But I suppose, the truth is always stranger than fiction.

Speaking of fiction, Joyce called me from the hospital and assured me that everything she told me about the lights and the monster in the wall was all in her head. It's so odd, she was adamant about all of that shit being true just two days ago. And now she's chalking it up to grief and stress? I'm not so sure I buy that. But what else can I really think about it? Will is safe and sound, and the dead boy was properly identified. Case closed, I guess. I don't know, I suppose I'm just glad everything seems to have gone back to normal. People can stop worrying about going missing, and focus on the upcoming holiday season instead.

I'm certainly looking forward to turning my attention towards more happy things. Joyce, for example. Especially after how well my trip to the hospital went...

"Knock knock. I hear someone's back from the dead." You joke as you step into the doorway of Will's hospital room. You find his frail little body laying in a bed, hooked up to a few different machines. But he smiles at you all the same, as does Joyce when she sees you.

"Y/N!" Will exclaims, perking up at your presence. You go over to his bed, sitting beside him.

"I've brought you a little gift." You say, holding out a small rectangular package wrapped in red paper.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that, Y/N." Joyce says modestly.

"Of course I did! I've missed this little guy these last few days. He's my favorite customer." You turn your head to speak to her, and her smile grows wider.

"What is it?" Will asks, eager to open his new present.

"Well, you'll just have to use all your strength to tear open the paper and find out!" You chuckle, handing him the gift. He quickly rips it open, revealing the Combat Rock album by The Clash. He turns the tape over to look at the track list, his eyes lighting up at finding a particular song on it.

"This has my favorite song!" He looks at you in wonderment, thinking you're psychic or something for knowing that he loves "Should I Stay or Should I Go".

"Oh, I know. You hum it all the time when you come into the shop. You've got good taste, kiddo." You reply, your heart warming at how happy you've made him.

"Thanks, Y/N. I love this." Will says, sitting up to give you a hug. You do your best to be gentle with him, he's been through a lot this week.

"You're welcome, Will." You answer, giving his hair a light ruffle as you pull away. He giggles at you playing around, though it quickly turns into a violent cough. "Shit. Here." You act quickly, handing him his glass of water from the table. Will takes it, sipping through the straw sticking out of the top. "Better?" You ask.

"Yeah. Thanks." He swallows thickly, and lays back down. The poor kid looks so exhausted, which feels like your cue to leave.

"Well, I'm gonna let you rest up. Hopefully I'll see you back at Waxed Out sometime, okay?" You say as you stand up from the bed. He nods at you, and you turn to leave. You're about to walk out the door without another word to give the family some time together, when Joyce stops you.

"Y/N, can we talk for a minute?" She says, getting up from her chair to follow you.

"Yeah, sure." You answer, and she does the same as she'd done at the funeral. She finds some random supply closet, pulling you inside of it with her. "Jeez, you sure have a thing for closets, Joyce." You joke, which makes her laugh a little.

"Oh, I know, I know. I hate that we keep meeting like this. But I just need some time with you. I can't stop thinking about you, now that Will is safe. I'm so glad you came to see him, it means a lot." She speaks excitedly, which looks so damn cute on her. The talking with her hands, her animated expressions. It's all so unbelievably attractive to you.

"I'm just glad he's alright." You pause, her eyes finding yours throwing you off. "What about you? Are you alright? I know you said on the phone that everything you told me before was—"

"Stress. Just...stress." She cuts you off, insisting on her modified story. "But I'm fine. It's all over now, thank God."

"Fine enough for me to do this?" You ask smoothly, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek.

"Yeah, that's kinda why I brought you in here." She laughs breathily, waiting for you to kiss her. You grant her wish, pressing your lips to hers. "Mmm." She hums against you, and you gently bite her bottom lip. She gasps at the light sting, allowing your tongue to slip into her mouth. She moans quietly, and you lead her backwards until she's against one of the shelves of cleaning supplies. It creaks slightly once she makes contact, but she doesn't seem to mind your dominance.

"Is there a lock on this door?" You ask aloud, looking over at the knob. There appears to be one, so you quickly click it into the locked position. You return to your task of making out with Joyce, and your hands go to her chest to feel her up through her sweater.

"Y/N..." She exhales between heated kisses. You continue to massage her chest, but you don't think stripping down would be wise in such a populated place, locked door or not.

"Tell me what you want, baby." You purr, sliding your hand under the hem of her top as well as her bra to feel her breast entirely. She moans as you roll her nipple between your fingers, unable to think straight.

"I don't know, I just want you." She whines, her own hands grabbing at your ass. She keeps you close to her, continuing to meet you in the middle with her perfect lips.

"That's okay, Joyce. I can take the lead if you want me to." You reply. She nods, and you lower your other hand to the button on her jeans. You pop it open, and pull down the zipper. You slide your hand inside her pants, immediately finding her slick folds.

"Fuck." She whimpers once your fingers meet her clit, and you make slow, purposeful circles around it. She makes the sweetest noises as you touch her, all of which get you wetter by the second. You keep kissing her, on the mouth, and what you can reach of her neck. "So good..." Joyce murmurs. She finds herself wanting to participate too, so she quickly opens up your own jeans.

"Mmm, someone's learning..." You laugh lowly as she puts her hand inside your pants. You gasp at the coldness of her fingers on you, shocking your warm flesh with an icy touch. She gradually thaws, mimicking your actions to rub your bundle of nerves.

"I'm just following you, Y/N." She replies, going so far as to move you backwards now. Your back hits the shelf on the other side of the closet, Joyce appears to want to take control for a bit. She puts herself a step ahead of you, pressing her fingers inside your pussy. She wants to feel how wet you are, to make you moan and see your beautiful face when you cum.

"Fuck, Joyce." You copy her a second after, your digits filling up her soaked hole. You rapidly curl them, drawing more noises from her lips. You both try to keep the noise down, you'd hate for someone walking by to catch you. You decide that you want to try something different with her, to give her something more than just your fingers. You stop kissing her for a second, still pumping your digits inside of her. She follows your speed, which makes you want to scream from how good it feels. You look around the small room, finding a neglected set of filing cabinets in the corner. You carefully maneuver her in their direction, her ass smacking against them a little too loud.

"Careful, Y/N. We can't get caught in here." Joyce pants.

"Sorry. I just want to try something..." You say softly, pulling your fingers out of her. She does the same to you, and you swiftly lift her up onto the cabinets. Her legs dangle over the edge, and you take off your coat, it's far too hot for it now. You position yourself between her legs to kiss her again. She moans into your mouth, her own tongue coming out to play this time. "Have you ever had oral sex before?" You ask as you pull away, hoping you don't sound too formal. You just worry that Joyce might not understand any slang terms you might use.

"I mean, I've given it. But I've never..." She trails off, blushing harshly.

"Do you want to try it?" You question, your eyes filled with lustful hunger. You want to see her, and taste her, feel her hands tangling in your hair while you make her scream your name.

"Yes." She whispers. Without another word, you reach for the waistband of her jeans. You pull them down, along with her panties. She helps you out a bit, lifting herself up so you can get them all the way down. You bunch the fabric around her ankles, and duck down to kneel between her bound legs. You spread her thighs apart gingerly, and you fail to hold back a moan at the sight before you. She's got a beautiful mound of hair all around the outside, dark brown and loosely curled. Her clit and folds are shiny and wet, the dim overhead light catching the arousal spread around them. And her entrance, bright pink, and throbbing with anticipation. You've never seen a prettier pussy in your entire life.

"Wow." You exhale the word, unable to contain your awe of her. Your eyes flick up to hers, and she blushes harder at your admiration. She's never seen anyone look at her this way before, as if she's a goddess or something. "Scoot forward a little, baby." You order politely. She does as you ask, putting her glistening cunt right in front of your face. You can smell her, how turned on she is...it's so fucking intoxicating. "You ready?" You ask, confirming that this is exactly what she wants.

"Yeah." She nods confidently, anxious to see what your lips and tongue will feel like against her heat.

"Good." You start slow, leaving open-mouthed kisses from her knee, all the way up to her inner thigh. She breathes heavily as you do this, your teasing is driving her mad. You repeat these actions on the other side, before settling in front of where she needs you the most. Your shuddering breath fans against her, and you finally lean in to lick a long stripe from her entrance to her clit.

"Oh, god..." She moans at the sensation of your warm tongue swiping along her slit. Her hands lower to your head, fingers tangling in your hair just like you'd hoped they would. You let out a small moan against her, making her hips buck at the vibrations. "Fuck, Y/N...this is...so good." Joyce whimpers, and you proceed to flick your tongue against her sensitive bud, while also sliding the entire length of it inside her hole on occasion. You eat up every single noise she makes, and they push you to lick her harder and faster.

You grip her left thigh to keep her close, while your free hand lowers to give you some pleasure of your own. You doubt Joyce is up for reciprocating this particular activity, which you don't mind one bit. There's something about giving oral that's so much better than receiving it. Sure, getting head is pretty damned amazing, but you can't get over the intense rush you feel when you make someone else cum using only your mouth. It's like the ultimate exchange of power, to have any guy or girl you do this to in the palm of your hand. And once it's all over, their mind is thoroughly blown, and they're ever so grateful to you for your service. Strangely enough, it's actually highly rewarding.

"Mmm." You hum as your own fingers glide across your clit, though they quickly move towards your dripping entrance. You're unbelievably wet, so much so that your fingers slip right into your cunt. You continue to eat Joyce out to your heart's content, her hands digging further into your hair.

"I know this is my first time doing this...but you're really good at it, Y/N." Joyce praises, her words sounding like music to your ears. They come out low and breathy, but her tone is still sweet as can be. Just like the rest of her.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, baby." You reply, slipping your tongue inside her entrance again.

"Fuck." She gasps, her head falling back against the wall. You repeatedly press on her g-spot, and more muted moans fall from her lips. You also increase the pace of your own fingers pumping within your pussy. You keep this up for a while, taking your time to feel every last inch of Joyce's cunt with your mouth, and timing yourself to hopefully cum alongside her. Her nails snake further in towards your scalp as the minutes tick past, and her pelvis bucks into your face whenever you discover a new sensitive spot between her legs. "I'mgetting close, Y/N...don't stop." Joyce whines, her thighs jolting more and more with every stroke and flick you make on her.

"Wouldn't...dream...of it..." You pant out the words between licks, tightening your grip on her thigh. Her muscles tremble beneath your hold, you can tell it's taking everything in her not to thrash around or clamp her legs around your skull. You're not quite on the same page, orgasm-wise. But you're trying your damndest to catch up. You finger yourself as fast as you can, winding up an impatient knot inside your belly. You hate to rush this, but you've probably been gone too long as it is. It's a wonder no one has come looking for you or Joyce yet.

"I'm gonna cum...keep going...right there..." Joyce whimpers, sensing her high fast approaching.

"Mmm." You hum in response, repeating the motions that her moans say are working the best. Rapid swirls around her clit, interspersed with quick darts of your tongue inside her pussy. That's another thing you love about giving head, figuring out the different methods and speeds that your partner finds most enjoyable. It's like cracking a safe, using your tongue and lips as your tools, with their orgasm serving as the elusive riches inside.

"Y/N, I'm gonna....shit—" Joyce gasps, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the obscenely loud moan that's ripping itself from her lungs. Her thighs quake, instinctively closing around your head. You lap up her juices as they spill out of her, groaning against her at the taste. She's even sweeter than the night at your apartment, and so warm. You're still not at your end yet, much to your annoyance. Usually it doesn't take long for you to cum when you do it yourself, but tonight is proving to be a challenge. Regardless, you continue to get yourself there, while licking at Joyce until her high dies down. "Fuck." She breathes heavily, slumped against the wall with her eyes closed and hands laying slack in her lap. "That was amazing, Y/N." She praises, taking her time to calm down. Sweat drips down along the side of her head, and the underarms of her sweater are completely soaked through.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Joyce." You murmur, pulling your mouth away from her now. You continue to finger yourself, gazing up at her exhausted body to get yourself off.

"Do you want some help, sweetie?" She asks, her eyes open now as she watches what you're doing.

"Yes, please." You answer, almost whining. You've become a bit frustrated now, needy for your climax. Hopefully Joyce can help you get it. You quickly stand up, still stuck between her legs. You take your hand out of your pants, which she immediately replaces with hers. "Joyce..." You whimper as the touch of her fingers on your clit feels so much better than your own. You can't look away from her, and the caring smile on her face. She keeps you close to her with a hand on your shoulder, and she gradually makes her way to your slick entrance. She slips one finger inside, causing you to moan as quietly as you can. She adds the other right after, which only makes you louder.

"Shh, quiet down. Let me make you feel good, Y/N." Joyce coos, pumping her digits inside you painfully slow.

"Go faster, baby. I need you." You beg in a whisper. She increases her speed, and you finally feel like you're getting somewhere. "More. I need more." You whine, almost in tears as you hold her gaze. She tuts at the pained look on your face, realizing what a hard time you're having.

"It's okay. I'll take care of you." She presses her lips to yours, and your eyes flutter closed. She takes the lead, slipping her tongue into your mouth and picking up the pace. Joyce goes as fast as she can, giving her best effort to help you get what you desperately want. You can sense it, all of her affectionate actions are rapidly building you up.

"Just like that, baby." You exhale between steamy kisses. You firmly hold her shoulders, waiting for the knot inside you to snap. You're extremely close now, thanks to her longer, more efficient fingers.

"You're almost there, just let it all go sweetie." Joyce says calmly, her thumb running over your clit to seal your fate. You kiss her hard to soften the scream that begs to escape you. Your knees buckle, and you almost fall over as your orgasm takes hold. Complete and utter ecstasy rushes through you, your insides pulsating wetly around her fingers. You continuously moan down her throat, unable to stop until the pleasure subsides. You collapse into Joyce, and she carefully takes her hand out of your jeans to put her arms around you. "There ya go. Feel better now?" She asks sweetly, stroking your sweat-dampened hair.

"Yes, much better. Thank you." You huff out the words, unable to think straight. Joyce lets you stay still like this for a few minutes, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. But as always, this content, happy occasion must be drawn to a close.

"I'd better get back, Y/N." She says quietly.

"I know. Ugh, we need a real night to ourselves one of these days." You suggest, pulling away from her embrace so you can get yourselves together. You duck under her legs again, and do up your jeans. She straightens out her own clothes, and nods.

"That would be nice. We could order in, have a couple drinks...maybe watch a movie?" You love every last word that passes her lips, and her eagerness to make actual plans with you.

"Sounds perfect, Joyce. Just tell me a day, whatever works for you." You reply, picking your coat up off the floor and slipping it on.

"I will. But I'm afraid this is goodbye for now, again." She jokes, making you both giggle lightly. She gets down from the filing cabinets, and meets you once more before she has to go. "I'll call you as soon as I can, Y/N. I promise." She gives you a small kiss, and she hesitates to pull away. You both let out a shaky breath, sharing a satisfied smile afterwards.

"I'll be looking forward to it. You'd better get back to your kids. It's getting late, so I'm gonna head home." You go to the door to leave first this time, poking your head out to see if anyone's around. The nurse's station is just around the corner, but you manage to slip out unnoticed. You make a beeline for the door, feeling really nervous that maybe someone saw you. But you know they didn't. You hope Joyce makes it back to Will's room alright, but you don't want to linger around to check.

...I walked the long way home, and it was probably one of the best ones I've ever taken. All the weight of the last few days melted away with every step. Hawkins finally feels safe again. There's no more fear roiling beneath the town's surface, no more paranoia between neighbors. Everything is the way it should be. Sure, we'll miss Benny dearly, and that other kid that drowned is unfortunate. But at least now we know that those incidents were self-inflicted, or accidents. That's the worst thing that can happen here. At least, I'd like to think so.

I spent a good amount of my walk thinking about Joyce, replaying every little detail of all our small meetings. I can't wait to see her again, and have some real time together. I'm not sure where this thing we have is going to go, if it does go anywhere at all. I don't mind a fling, but I wouldn't say no to a long-term relationship either. I'm unsure what Joyce wants, but I have a feeling that she can't fully commit herself to anyone. Not right now, anyway. As wonderful as it is that Will has been brought home safe, he still needs a lot of extra care and attention. He looked so withered and sickly in that hospital bed, I have no idea when he'll fully recover. I'm sure Joyce is going to spend her every waking moment nursing him back to health. She's such a great mom, I couldn't see her going about it any other way.

November 25th, 1983

Dear Diary,

Last night was my...date?...with Joyce. We did exactly as we'd planned at the hospital. She rented a movie, Breakfast at Tiffany's. She said it's one of her favorites, and I totally agree. We ordered in some Chinese, and ate and drank wine on my couch while snuggling up together. Ugh, she's so goddamn warm in the best possible way. It's like all this love and light radiates out of her, shining cozily upon those she cares about.

When we'd finished dinner and the film, we took things to my bedroom. We made out heavily for what felt like hours, I could've been satisfied by just doing that, honestly. But she wanted more, she was practically begging for it. And what kind of woman would I be to say no? We finally saw each other completely naked, and my god, Joyce is a fucking goddess. To see her all laid out on my bed like that, I swear I had to be dreaming. She was very pleased with my body as well, which was flattering. I don't know what it is, but being with an established woman like her caused a little self-doubt regarding my own appearance.

We did everything we've done before. The groping, fingering, and oral sex. She even went down on me this time. Joyce was a bit unsure of herself at first, but I gave her a little guidance, and she took to it like a fish to water. Shit, her mouth is something else, that's for sure. She even went so far as to lap up all of my cum when it spilled onto her face. She was far more bold than the other times, and it was unbelievably sexy. We also took things a step further, grinding our pussies together until we came at the same time. That was...a challenge, at first. The positioning is kind of awkward, and it's difficult to maintain a cohesive rhythm if you're new at it. But once we figured it out, it was unbelievable. Our sweating bodies rolling and grinding, the gorgeous moans Joyce made to harmonize with mine, being able to see each other's faces twist in pleasure with every move. I'll never forget it.

Joyce left pretty early in the morning, but not without waking me up to say goodbye. She didn't want me to wake up to her already being gone, which I appreciated. I totally would've burst into tears if that happened, convincing myself that it was all a dream. And I wouldn't have been able to bear that, not with how mind-blowing she was last night.

December 5th, 1983

Dear diary,

Well, Joyce came by the shop today. I wish I could say I was happy about it, but I'm really not. She came in with Will, who quickly ran off to check out the new releases in the corner. Joyce came up to the counter to talk to me. She said that while she adores me, and is so grateful for the times we've had, that she can't get into a relationship right now.

I get it. I'd already thought out every possible outcome of this short entanglement of ours. Most of which go exactly like this. She just doesn't have the time, or mental capacity to maintain something with me. She has to look after Will, he needs her more than ever right now. It's not personal, I know that. And as much as I thought I'd made my peace with that, and prepared myself for this to happen, it still hurt like a bitch.

I told her it was fine, even though my heart was sinking, and my stomach turned in the most unsettling way. I didn't want to stop seeing her, but it wasn't solely up to me to decide that for us. She took hold of my hand, reiterating that it hurts her to let me go. I did everything I could to not cry in front of her, and I managed to hold it all in until she walked out the door. Joyce did shed a couple herself, I know it pains her to disappoint anyone. But we said our goodbyes, and she made it clear that I could still come by Melvald's like I used to. For her support and comforting words, as a friend. And I will, once the heartache goes away. It'll just take a little time, and maybe a good rebound.

[gococogo]

Having Earned More | Shaytham

「Synopsis」 : After having ran around New York nearly all night after the ordeal with Hope, Haytham finally finds Shay in the Greenwich Tavern. Taking him home with worry in his gut, Haytham wants Shay to know that the Templars are not the Assassins. That Haytham will treat him better than them.

「Word count」 : 3.87K

Genre: Sad Shit

Paring: Shay Cormac / Haytham Kenway

[Warnings] : Praise/Blow Job/Sir Kink

Arriving at the front door of Shay’s estate, it isn’t the house owner that greets Haytham. Gist, the Morrigan’s first mate peers through the small gap of the door to see who’s knocking this late at night. Haytham could ask the same of Gist. Seeing that it’s the Grandmaster brings Gist to attention and he opens the door fully, taking his hat off and placing it over his heart. Haytham wants to ask why Gist is at the estate without his Captain but more pressing stuff is the first on his mind.

“Master Kenway, what brings you ‘round here so late?” Gist asks first with a light chuckle.

From when Haytham last checked his pocket watch, it was around nine at night. He was meant to meet with Shay earlier but the man had disappeared after the whole ordeal with Hope. Someone that Haytham didn’t have the chance of meeting nor does he realize he wanted to. Not with all the ruckus she put New York through. But he knows that Shay thinks differ to her than others. Haytham doesn’t know how close they were but what he could see through Shay’s mask is that he had feelings for her.

Haytham has only had reports of Hope’s body from his men near the docks. But no word on Shay since the whole ordeal. And it had Haytham worried sick even though he won’t show it outwardly. He doesn’t want his best Templar to come up dead. So, Haytham came to Fort Arsenal in hope to find the Captain.

“I’m after Shay,” Haytham responds bluntly.

“The Captain isn’t in right now,” Gist answers with a sheepish smile.

Haytham isn’t amused and it quickly makes Shay’s first mate straighten is posture and lose the smile. Gist has a habit of joking or smile at the wrong given time and it’s something Haytham has just gotten use to. At least he would prefer Gist over Hickey and that’s saying something. But he would never say it out loud to anyone’s face.

“I haven’t seen him since earlier tonight and I need a report,” the Grandmaster says more firmly.

“We are leaving tomorrow morning-“

Haytham stops the man with a raised hand. He doesn’t want any unnecessary talk right now. He just needs to know where Shay is. “I want to hear it from your Captain. Where is he.”

Gist knows that lying will only get him in further trouble and dodging the truth won’t get him any further. He gives up quite easily. He must be worried for his own Captain.

“Last I heard he was in the Greenwich Tavern, sir. It’s on the other side of here-“

Haytham cuts off Gist again, “I know where it is.”

Without another word, or a goodbye, Haytham is turning on the spot and making his way down the pathway. His pace a little too quick for a Grandmaster heading to fetch one of his fellow Templars. Haytham knows why and if he’s being truthful he would admit that Shay has become his favourite even though he knows he shouldn’t have favourites. If Charles Lee found out then that would be the end of their friendship.

But he would be lying if he didn’t say Shay is the best out of them. Yes, every other Templar has their benefits to the cause and their needs and wants. But Shay being stern, but kind is something that isn’t seen within the other Templars.

It might come down to Shay having been on both sides of the cause now. Being both Assassin and Templar. But even Haytham knows that isn’t true because he has met some mean son of bitches that have come from the Assassins and willingly joined the Templars. Most of them have died now, or what he had heard from Britain, but he doesn’t really talk to the Order over seas now.  

Greenwich Tavern is loud and rowdy tonight. Haytham wonders if Shay is amongst the rowdiness of the place. He has never seen Shay drunk nor intoxicated in the couple of months he’s known the Irishman. He doesn’t know what to expect. In his mind he’s already picturing Hickey or Gist drunk as a skunk with a woman bouncing on their knee and their ale swaying above their head as they sing at the top of their lungs some awful chanty. He can’t imagine Shay doing such a thing but liquor does something to a man that nothing else does.  

Stepping inside, the Grandmaster doesn’t see Shay at first. Other men are laughing and standing up instead of sitting down. Whores cling to men for their money and the men cling to them for other reasons. Haytham’s nose slightly curls as he walks further into the tavern, prying his eyes off the men to look for someone else familiar.  

He doesn’t notice Shay at first because the man is without that black and red coat he wears everyday. It’s almost a shock to Haytham to see him in just his red Templar vest and his white shirt. He’s hunched over the bar with his head in his arms past out. But as Haytham nears and see a better angle of the man, he realizes he was wrong and that Shay is conscious still. He’s twirling a shot glass on the bar in silence and he’s in his own little world. Seeing the well respected Captain of the Morrigan reduced to sorrow is disheartening a little. At least Shay is well physically though. He can’t see any marks or blood patches on Shay that would tell he’s been harmed.

Haytham decides to not say a word and sit down on the stool next to the man. Another shot is poured in front of Shay while a coin is tossed onto the bar. Shay takes the shot and downs it quickly, hissing at the sting it must leave on his throat. Haytham finds himself staring and he can’t look away. He wants to take this small moment to take in Shay. See him without Shay putting on a strong or formal face for him. Some of his hair has fallen out of his band and tumbles over his face. His eyes are red and a little puffy, hinting at that he’s been sitting at this bar and crying. Or has cried somewhere in private and come here afterwards.

Something comes forward in Haytham that he hasn’t felt in ages. A need to protect over the one that has been hurt. He wants to take all the pain away and inflict it upon the one that harmed. He wants Shay to know that there’s no need to look to the past again. That Haytham is right here. But right now, those thoughts and feelings are quickly pushed down. Deep and dark.

A couple of minutes do past that Haytham stares at Shay before the Irishman takes notice to prying eyes. Shay gives the Grandmaster a quick glance out of the corner of his eyes, feeling a gaze upon him. He looks forward again before whipping his head to Haytham. It’s almost comedic, the first initial fear that crosses Shay’s face when he see the Grandmaster beside him. Haytham has seen this man go up against five men, jump off buildings and cross oceans filled with enemy ships, all without breaking a sweat or showing fear. He more or less laughs at the adrenaline that takes a hold of him. But right now he’s more afraid of Haytham than a man with a gun pointed at his face.

“Master Kenway!” Shay stutters his exclaim.

Shay’s speech is clear. He isn’t drunk or even close to it. He’s more miserable than anything else and he’s come here away from his crew so they don’t see him like this. It would be demeaning. To see their Captain at their lowest and risk having it differ their loyalty. Even though Haytham knows it won’t but there is a pride that comes to being a Captain of the Morrigan that he has to live up to.

“I came by your place to get your report about tonight. I only found Gist,” Haytham tells him straight up.

Shay collects himself quickly, smoothing out his hair and clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t,” he responds. “But I do want to know what you learnt off the woman.”

Haytham watches Shay’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. Along with Haytham’s interest in Shay, there may also be some attraction there as well. Shay is a handsome man, anyone could see that. But it’s the thought and want of doing so much more than addressing another man is good looking that is the problem in this day and age.

“I think we should head back to my estate to speak about this,” Shay answers. “In a more private setting with no prying ears.”

Haytham nods, having to agree. “Lead the way,” he gestures a hand outward.

Shay is sure on his feet as he stands, firm and planted. Even when he’s on the Morrigan his legs are solid. It also tells that Shay can hold his liquor unlike other Templars. Most likely the Irish in him but Haytham is the same due to his father. So maybe the both of them are just lucky enough.

The Captain opens the door for Haytham and the brisk wind outside is a difference to the warmth of inside. But he’s glad he’s outside and away from the smell of sweat, alcohol and the lingering scent of bile. Shay doesn’t seem to be effected by the cold as Haytham is. Haytham is a summer baby and has always liked the warmth the season brings.

Maybe the north has just frozen over a part of Shay’s brain that he isn’t effected by the cold anymore. He spends enough time there that, that could be the case. The amusing thought brings a small smile to Haytham’s lips that he makes sure Shay doesn’t see. They begin their slow walk down the street of New York back to Fort Arsenal, Shay’s estate.

“Did you come straight here after your mission?” Haytham asks out of curiosity.

Shay glances at the Grandmaster from the corner of his eye but his gaze drifts to the ground instead. He’s quite, as if living through memories of tonight. Events looping in his head like a broken vinyl.

“I went back home afterwards. I had to be alone after tonight, Sir” Shay begins. “Gist was there instead to greet me and so the Morrigan is being readied for tomorrow early morning. I left shortly after ordering Gist.”

Haytham nods. “Will tonight stop your search?”

Shay is quick to answer a simple and firm, “No.”

“Good.”

Haytham wants to ask more about Hope. But he doesn’t think it’s appropriate at the given time. Shay is still mourning and hurting. The rest of the walk is quiet. Shay’s estate comes into view and yet still not a word is said. The rest of their conversation is needed to be spoken behind closed doors.

Shay opens the front door for Haytham and once inside, it is instantly warmer. Haytham takes off his hat and cloak, hanging it up on the hooks to his left. A fire place burns to his right and it looks to that fresh wood has been piled on.

“Gist!?” Shay calls out as he closes the door behind them both.

There is no reply. Must have left shortly after Haytham came around. But he finds it better to know that it is just the two of them in here. He wants to just talk to Shay. He only thinks he can put up with Shay right now.  

Said man moves over to their left where chairs and a coffee table sit. On the coffee table is a half empty bottle of whiskey that Shay offers with a silent gesture.

“No, thank you,” Haytham says with a small gesture of his hand.

Shay takes a seat in a single lofa chair and almost moulds into it. Haytham sits in the left hand one and sits forward, not wanting to get too comfortable. The papers on the table are all of ship reports. Ships that Shay owns and sends on little missions of their own to bring back trade or loot. From what Haytham can see without prying too much is that there are more successful ones than failed ones.  

“I’ll start with what I plan on doing next,” Shay starts. “Gist has told me that he’s heard that Cook is somewhere up north. Maybe in Perce or Anticosti. I’ll send a letter out because he could lead me to my next target.”

“Good. I want you to report back to me straight away once you’re done,” Haytham answers. “I’ll be here in New York.”

Shay nods before he takes a short swig of the whiskey in hand. He makes a parched hiss at the burn of the liquor that has his nose scrunching up. Haytham swallows thickly as he watches a small dripple of the liquor runs down Shay’s chin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve and draws his attention back to Haytham, leaning more closer to the Grandmaster.

“I’ll do just that,” Shay tips the bottle to him.

Haytham keeps his eyes on the Irishman even though Shay has gone back to looking off in the distance. He isn’t drunk. Haytham knows drunk. The man is deep in thought and Haytham wants to distract him. It must take a lot of whiskey for Shay to get drunk and that must be an effort on itself. There are easier distraction and Haytham is surprised that he hasn’t gone for them yet. Like whoring or gambling. Or blood spilling.

“How did the Brotherhood treat you?” Haytham asks out of the blue.

Shay hears the question but he’s taken a back by it. “What do you mean?” He asks, raising a brow with his words.

“I’m just curious is all.” Haytham waves his hand. “Just curious about how the Assassin’s work, if you don’t mind my prying.”

Shay licks his lips and he becomes flustered, his face turning a flush pink. He thinks for a moment, having to place the bottle of whiskey back onto the table.

“No, you’re prying isn’t unwelcomed. Just none of you’s have really asked too into it is all,” Shay starts but pauses a moment, looking the Grandmaster up and down to make sure he’s serious. “I was still technically in training and during then I thought they wanted me to be my best. But looking back on it, all I got were insults and comments on how I could improve. Even now, they still seem to get under my skin.”

“Did they do this with any other apprentices?”

“Not that I knew of,” Shay shrugs.

That sparks a small fire of annoyance in Haytham. How ignorant of the Assassins. But it is their loss now that they lost their best man without even realizing it. Stupid, stupid fools.

“Do you feel better treated with the Templars?” Haytham pokes.

This for some reason this takes Shay off guard. He looks dumbfound and he doesn’t know what to say. A satisfaction comes over the Grandmaster at seeing Shay a loss of words.

“Yes, I do. Under the Templar’s command I do,” Shay replies back softly.

At the satisfaction of that reply, Haytham suddenly gets up out of his chair. He makes his way over to Shay’s chair and stops before him, towering over the Captain. Haytham takes a risk. But Shay can’t pry his eyes off the Grandmaster, sitting back in his chair as Haytham stands so his legs are between his knees. Haytham reaches out and holds Shay’s chin between his thumb and pointer, feeling the short stubble that has come over his face.

“Do I treat you better?” He asks lowly.

Shay swallows, his brown eyes becoming hooded. “Yes.” Haytham has never heard his voice this soft before. He wants more. He needs more.

Haytham places his hands on Shay’s needs and opens them as he falls to his knees. Shay’s brown eyes go wide at the sight of the Grandmaster on his knees. He kneads his thumb into Shay’s inner thigh, earning himself a hiss drawn through teeth.  

“May I continue?” Haytham asks firmly but huskily.  

Shay nods, but when Haytham doesn’t move he realizes he wants verbal confirmation. “Yes,” Shay breathes out through barely parted lips.

One of Haytham’s hands move to Shay’s crotch and knead softly at first. A shaky breath is his response and Shay holds onto the arm rests like he’s holding onto the Morrigan’s wheel while a storm is throwing her about.  

“When’s the last time someone treated you well, Shay?” Haytham asks as he presses down a little harder on the Captain.

Shay’s body flinches as he groans deep in his throat and his eyes flutter shut. It must be a long time if Shay is this sensitive. But it’s perfect. It’s what Haytham wants.

“Before I joined,” Shay manages to get out.

“The Templars?”

“My former.”

Haytham pauses for a moment. “It’s been that long?”

Shay gives a short nod in return.

“Let me do this for you, Shay,” Haytham admits as he replaces his hand over Shay’s crotch with a kiss. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Ma-ah Master Kenway,” Shay pants out.

The simplest touch from Haytham sends an electric shock through Shay’s body. He hadn’t realized just how long it’s been since he’s had a meaningful touch. Yes he’s slept with whores and such during his time with the Brotherhood but they all meant nothing. Nothing like this. He’s missed this.

He’s had his eye on the Grandmaster since they first talked. But he wanted to keep it professional. Wanted to keep on track with the current task at hand. Needing to stay ahead of everything and everyone. But obviously Haytham has been looking at him as well. And by God does it feel good to be seen.

Haytham mouths Shay’s dick through his pants. He wants Shay to know that he means this. That he wants to make him feel good. Haytham begins undoing his belt buckle and pulls down Shay’s pants to only expose his dick. It springs out, already hard and weeping a little. It’s a decent length, something Haytham would have imagined Shay having.

“Sir,” Shay is able to moan out, as he feels the Grandmaster’s hot breath over his cock.  

The plea goes straight to the warmth growing in Haytham’s gut. He can feel himself semi hard but tonight isn’t about him. Tonight is for Shay.  

“I want to make you feel good, Shay. Better than you have while you were with them,” Haytham admits with hooded eyes.

A coil of pleasure is already tightening inside of Shay’s gut and balls. By God he never would have thought that tonight would go like this. He fully expected to try and get drunk and wake up in an ally when the sun came up to head to the Morrigan. Or sleep on the Morrigan tonight so he’s ready for tomorrow. But that had all gone differ when the Grandmaster had popped up at the same tavern as him. For a moment, he thought he was going to be suspended. The Assassins have in the past.

The shock that goes through Shay’s body when lips wrap around the head of his dick is strong enough that it almost knocks the wind out of him. Haytham concentrates on relaxing his throat, working his way down Shay’s dick little by little. He squeezes Shay’s thighs, hard enough to leave bruises behind.

The hot wetness of Haytham’s mouth is enough to push Shay over the edge but he wants to hold on for a few moments longer. But he is very out of practice and he finds himself not being to last as long as he once could.

Hands are suddenly grabbing at Haytham’s hair. Shay doesn’t tug or push him further down, they hold on for mere support. Shay breathes heavily, trying to supress the groans and moans wanting to escape from his mouth.

Haytham finally relaxes his throat enough to take down the rest of Shay. Swallowing all of him greedily until his nose is in Shay’s dark pubes. Haytham’s grip on the Captain’s thigh, tears pricking at his eyes as he holds himself there for a moment before pulling himself off. He holds back a cough and catches his breath before going back to Shay’s dick. He settles in for a steady rhythm, Shay’s hands following his head movements.

Shay’s hips stutter upwards into his mouth and instantly, Haytham is holding onto his hips. He presses him down into the chair, holding him in place and digging his thumbs in. A whine is drawn from Shay that is beautiful to the ears.

Shay’s grip tightens in his hair but he doesn’t pull Haytham off. “Sir, I’m not going to-ah,” he has to take a moment to catch his breath. “To la-ahst much longer.”

Good.

Haytham moves his hands around to grab Shay’s ass. He squeezes before lifting Shay towards him, burying his own face into his crotch. When Shay said he couldn’t last much longer, he meant he was hanging on by a thread. And having Haytham take down all of him sends him over the edge with a choked cry. Shay curls inwards, holding onto Haytham’s head with both hands and keeping him there.

Haytham keeps himself positioned as Shay comes down his throat. He breathes heavily through his nose, concentrating on swallowing all of Shay and to not gag or choke. He doesn’t want to make a mess.

Once he feels Shay relax against him, Haytham slowly pulls himself off of his cock. Shay’s hands fall off of his hair as he falls backwards into the chair, breathing heavily and staring far from now.

Haytham’s hair is a mess and it fall everywhere. He wipes the saliva from his face with the back of his sleeve and fixes his hair back into his ribbon. But he stays on his knees for a moment, waiting for Shay to come to. The Captain brings his attention back to Haytham and a concerned look comes over his features.

“What about yourself, sir?” Shay asks as he runs a hand over his hair.

Haytham shakes his head before bringing himself to his feet. He leans forward so that their noses are barely touching. Shay’s nose is cold, almost freezing despite it being warm inside.

“Tonight was for you,” he hushes. “I want you to come back with good news.”

Shay grabs Haytham’s face and brings him in for a kiss, tasting himself on the Grandmaster. The kiss is slow and sloppy, testing the other’s boundaries and not wanting to push further. But it quickly gets heated, wanting more of the other. Haytham holds onto Shay’s vest, fisting his hands into the red fabric. All while Shay holds Haytham’s face as if he’s going to disappear any minute.

They finally pull away, having to catch their breath. Haytham almost feels light headed he gives a small chuckle.

“Aye aye,” Shay finally answers cockily.  

[bengiyo]

Step By Step Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Last week, we met my new favorite Gay in Pat, and the biggest man we've ever seen in BL in Jeng. Pat is a new employee in the digital department of a large company, and he seems to get a lot of the shit jobs. Jeng is their new manager, and may be the son of the company owner. Pat is going to have beef with his superior, Ying, who tends to thrust her work on him. Pat is so gay and definitely attracted and attractive to Jeng. I'm excited to see where this goes.

Love it. Jeng has taken control of the department because he wants to keep the department viable and keep everyone's jobs. They all hatin' on him and he's got their backs.

I am not someone who does good work with people hovering over me while also under time pressure.

Throwing someone under the bus in a meeting like this generally just makes everyone look bad. I totally get Pat sniping back at her, even if that's also a bad look.

Pat was legit about to swing on this dude for haranguing him.

Pat crying in a stall after being berated repeatedly is so real. Pent up stress from feeling disrespected will do that.

They're literally in a meeting about how they need to work together more, and are cheering because they think Pat will be reprimanded or fired.

They're using the audio really well to keep us informed of Pat's current mental state.

I like Jeng getting Pat out from under his seniors to work on a new project.

There goes that energy. They're still being catty at lunch.

It was a genuine relief to see Pat work successfully with Nan on his presentation. It's amazing how quickly people bounce back when you treat them with professional respect and courtesy.

Do these other folks have nothing better to do than worry about what Pat is up to?

I think Jeng's feedback on the PowerPoint is all valid, but because Pat doesn't really have a holistic vision of his role none of it is connecting for him. He just heard that he's still doing a bad job.

Also, I feel like Jeng should talk to Nan about rumors and not Pat.

UP POOMPAT!!!!! WELCOME BACK!

I don't know what Put and Pat had before, but that was awkward as hell.

"I always have to be dramatic." Me too, Ae. She seems suspicious about Put.

I like sending yourself flowers to tamp down on rumors.

Curious that Pat trusts Nan enough with the fact that he's gay, even though he (very understandably) doesn't want to come out at work.

I'm loving the way Pat's professional life keeps clashing with things in his private life. I suspect Put wanted to be closeted as his star rose, and it became a breaking point for him and Pat. Now he unexpectedly runs into him giving a presentation at a work event.

I'm wondering where Pat went when he left Thailand.

Pat should not have gone rogue in this meeting. You don't blindside your superior like that.

I wish they'd let Pat beat the shit out of this guy. He keeps fucking with Pat and needs to taste some fists.

Jeng has a good seme stance.

Jeng does not seem to deal well with all of these emotions. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to appreciate how worn out Pat is by this hostile working environment.

Hey, now, Pat, don't break your laptop because you're mad. How many times do I have to tell y'all to break your enemy's shit and not your own??

I like Poppy's character. They probably shouldn't be this trashed doing a performance interview, but this scene is surprisingly fun.

I'm excited for the fallout of this peer review.

This show is really fantastic so far. It's been nice having a workplace show that feels grounded in the workplace as the primary setting and as the source of most of the complications and obstacles. I also really like that Pat feels gay in a recognizable world context. I also got to see Up today, and he looked so sad with his yearning after Pat.

[zombified-queer]

“I don’t really think of myself as a thief…” with the lobby boy and his trinkets

I know the Lobby Boy is technically a neat guy in canon maybe but I like to think he's a nasty little hoarder of cool shit.

“I don’t really think of myself as a thief…” The Lobby Boy stands in front of his Supply Closet door, blocking The Hotel Herself from entering.

She doesn’t need to, though. She can see everything inside from the cleaning products and the low ceramic sink. Even the little shelf where he puts all his trinkets. The Hotel Herself grimaces.

“Bug, dear, you don’t have to take trash from the guests!” She sighs, breathy and exasperated. “It’s trash!”

“But I like them.” The Lobby Boy presses back against the door until the metal knob digs into his spine and he makes a low noise of discomfort. “They’re...nice. I like the things they leave behind.”

“Of course you like them, dear. You have such...interesting tastes.” She claps her hands together. “I think we can do a little spring cleaning, right? Make some room for new things in that little closet?”

The Lobby Boy bites his lip, worrying. He debates the issue. On one hand, he doesn’t really want anyone in his closet. Anyone touching his things. They’re his. He found them or the guests gave them to him. So it’s not stealing. Safekeeping, maybe.

On the other hand, he’s seen what happens when The Hotel Herself does not get Her way.

He lingers in front of the door, trying to remember everything on that shelf. The books and the little box of trinkets. The soft things he’s picked up and housed in his closet.

And then he stands aside.

The Hotel Herself sweeps into the supply closet with the same grandeur She moves everywhere. She forces a smile but the Lobby Boy knows this is the last place She wants to be.

“Get a trash bag, bug.”

“Ma’am,” he begs. The implication lingers in the cramped closet: Please don’t make me get rid of them.

“I know. You have your little…” She grimaces at the crowded shelf. “Your things. The Manager has her cards. The Owner’s got his paperwork. But we’re going to do some spring cleaning! Make it feel a little neater!”

He doesn’t argue with Her that outside the lobby is a whiteout blizzard, storm of the century.

Instead, the Lobby Boy gets a trash bag. He offers it to Her but The Hotel Herself shakes her head. So the Lobby Boy holds it. Open so she can put his things inside.

He doesn’t want to look. But he does.

The Hotel Herself cranes Her neck to survey the things on his shelf. A coffee can of paperclips. Definitely has to go. The stuffed rabbit is cute so she moves it to one end of the shelf. A vase full of dead flowers. The flowers go, brown petals crumbling.

The Lobby Boy tries to make his eyes glaze over like the Manager can. Tries to set his jaw like she does when something bothers her. Instead, he locks eyes with Ted, the stuffed rabbit, and relief washes over him.

Ted’s still there on the shelf. So maybe it’s okay.

Spring cleaning. He watches as The Hotel Herself works. By the end, half of the shelf is gone but what is left is neatly arranged. A vase for fresh flowers, if he finds them or if the guests give him one. Little origami swans made out of dollar bills (the receipt swans are crumpled in the bag) line up like soldiers. The Hotel Herself left his little box of pins alone.

She takes one that reads ‘CHERNOBYL’S BRAVEST SOLDIER’ and pins it to his uniform. “See, bug? Making room for more of the things you should be keeping and getting rid of all the trash.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now go through those away.”

He shuffles off to obey only a little sad at all the things She decided are trash.