#but the things that can be done with props and sets should be done like that

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some fantasy traveler inventory details (like what they would carry in their bags), based on two of the recent costumes I did.. love finding random little scraps and items and putting them together lol

#it's obvious who's is who's since they match their outfits HOWEVER.. consider if they were switched lol #evil villain looking man carrying around pressed flowers in a cutesy lacy pouch #fantasy costume #what's in my bag #actualyl that would have been funny to make a video. I should make a video #I'm sure someone else has already done this #but like.. lifestyle vlogger type content however I'm dressed in fully costume as some weird elf or something #pulling things out of my bag and showing them to the camera and talking about how they're useful for whatever #but it's all fantasy scenarios and talking like it's very common #'and of course. i know it's a bit cliche #EVERY traveler has one of these. but you know. theyre just useful! thats why everyone has one!' *pulls out a completely unrecognizable item #thats like some weird fantasy world prop and doesn't even explain it because In-world it's normal and wouldnt need to be talked about* #'room tour' video and it's just like 'yeah I sleep on this mat under a bunch of trees uh.. over here by these rocks. at least right now. I #kind of wander around a bit. so' #Like a clothing haul but it's a potions shop haul or something and they ramble about some obscure drama in the potions community and how the #y hard to barter and steal and entire flock of sheep or something just to get one of them. etc. etc. #I could do ones for different characters too like. multiple people from different walks of life showing what they carry around with them. #just like this but more interview sort of vlog format instead of photos #This is where not having much money and not having my own house with land becomes an issue though #I think it would take you out of the illusion if the background was always the same. I can make small sets because there's one blank wall in #a room that it's easy to move all the stuff away from in front of and clear a spot and like hang up fabrics or whatever but still.. hmms #So one of those 'fun idea but dubious about handling the execution' things. also One Of Those Things where without looking it up you're 100% #sure it's already been done and you don't want to look weird since it's vaguely niche. Like if 100 people have done something it's fine but #if only like 3 other people have then you look weird maybe ghhjbj.. or only one other person gods forbid. looks even weirder potentially #Or do people not care about ''copying'' anymore?? idk. I'm not updated with the internet's changing culture. I just have a fear of accidenta #lly doing something like that and then people getting mad even though it's really just that I competely had no idea it had been done because #again.. I live under a rock and am unaware of everything lol. ANYWAY. also would require my face being on video which I don't like. Though I #would be in costume so that helps. I think to be fully comfortable I'd need light modifications to make my face look different. which isn't #hard but is more effort when it has to be translatable in multiple angles. ANYWAY. ghjbhj... Now I think it would be funny actually. maybe #one day. I haven't made any videos (aside from on the gameplay/sims channel) in a long long time actually. hmm'st

[steddieas-shegoes]

At ten years old, Eddie’s mama gets a raise at work just in time for Christmas. This is the same year Wayne works enough to set aside almost $200 for Eddie’s Christmas presents.

Eddie doesn’t know this, and he’s a kid who knows better than to expect more than a few things in his stocking and one or two “bigger gifts” -usually books or tapes- so it’s a surprise when his stocking is overflowing and there’s a huge box under the tree Christmas morning.

Even more surprising is that it’s labeled from Santa, and Eddie hasn’t believed in Santa for nearly three years despite everyone in his classes still believing. He bounces on his feet while he waits for Wayne to get his coffee, for his mama to finish making their special hot chocolate.

The year he gets his first guitar is also the year he finds out his mama can sing like a rock star.

It’s the year he finds out Wayne used to play bluegrass at a bar back home and probably could’ve made it big if he was willing to leave his sister.

It’s the year Eddie finds out he can play by ear and uses it to his advantage to learn all his favorite songs as soon as he figures out the chords.

And for years, he is quick to pull out his acoustic to learn something new, even when he manages to buy his electric with money from helping fix cars at the shop where his uncle’s friend works.

After he saves Hawkins, and his hands stop shaking enough for him to play, he asks Steve to bring his acoustic to the hospital so he can entertain himself. Steve shares a look with Wayne, then his mama.

“It, uh, didn’t survive…everything.”

Nothing broke his heart quite like hearing that.

He pretends it’s okay though, doesn’t want his mama and Wayne to feel worse than they already did about everything.

He tables his emotions until he’s alone that night, shortly after dinner when everyone goes home to get some rest before the next day of volunteering, and cleaning, and visiting.

He’s woken up in the middle of the night by the door opening, and even though the person coming in is trying to be quiet, the door creaks from the building settling funny during the “earthquake.”

“Steve?”

Steve turns and even in the dark, Eddie can see his blush.

He’s holding something.

Something big and guitar shaped.

“What have you done?”

Steve walks over to him and gently sets the guitar case in his lap.

Eddie opens it and sees a gently used acoustic with Eddie’s name now engraved on the side.

“Steve.”

“You can have nice things. You should have nice things. We don’t have many options right now, but at least you won’t get rusty.”

Eddie cried.

Steve held him.

And after Steve wiped his tears away and kissed his forehead—which was something they’d be talking about as soon as Eddie could focus on something other than the guitar in his lap— he played slower songs, songs that even Steve could recognize, until a nurse realized Steve was here past visiting hours and kicked him out.

When his mama saw it the next morning propped by his bed, she smiled knowingly.

“I see the boy followed through.”

“What?”

“He asked me all kinds of questions about guitars and what your old one looked like and if a used one would be okay. Don’t know how he found one so quick.”

“He’s pretty determined when he sets his mind to something.”

“I think he’s set his mind on you, baby.”

Eddie thought maybe she was right.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #wayne munson #mama Munson #headcanon #stranger things

[eveninggstar]

Princess Treatment

Summary: Whilst on stream, your viewers ask why you don’t have “smoking fingers” and you provide an answer.

Warnings: reader smokes, reader is intended to be female, one sexual innuendo, pre-established relationship, reader gets nails done, no use of y/n

A/N: i watched a clip thing on tiktok of someone pointing out Jake’s fingers and it’s because of smoking so i thought why not have a cutesy girlfriend not ruin her freshly done nails.

also expect some Johnnie to come up i have three requests and they are actually amazing so tysm for them!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You were sat on your pink gaming chair, swaying side to side whilst you were beginning your stream. The viewers rolled in quick, as well as the various donations and quick messages.

A message catches your attention, halting your swaying. “Did you get your nails done?” you mutter to yourself as you lean forwards. “Oh yeah! I did.” You lifted your hands up vertically showing off your fresh nails. “Jake took me for my birthday.” You had a cheesy smile on your face as you brought your hands down. You put them under your thighs as your shoulders hunched up at the mere feeling talking about Jake gave you.

“I was going to get them done anyway,” you paused and thought about your incredibly outgrown nails prior. “if you saw my nails before…Wait! did i show you guys?” you rushed to your phone and went through your gallery.

You found the photo Jake had sent you. It was a picture of you squishing his cheeks together with both hands, and you can see how outgrown your nails were. You flipped your phone to the camera, trying different angles so your viewers could see. “Stop focusing on me,” you muttered angrily to your camera. It focused and showed the chat a cute picture of you and your boyfriend, with your outgrown nails.

“Like we took this when we went target, with Johnnie.” You set your phone down and talked with your hands, even more than usual with your nails. “He literally called me over and went,” you took a breath and made your voice higher in irritation to mock Jake’s, “Babe, show me your nails!” you scrunched your face up, then resorted to your natural voice, “And so i did that, he took a picture.” you paused, showing confusion in your face, “I think he put it on instagram, on his story. I swear he did something like that and.. was there a poll on if he should pay for me to get my nails done?”

Looking at the chat you see the confirmation, or the people who were unaware on how bad your nails looked in shock. You rolled your eyes, “Anyways, i have such a cute boyfriend the came with me and payed.” You showed your nails off again.

This time another message caught your attention, “If you smoke why don’t you have ‘smoker fingers’?” You furrowed your brows at the question. “What the fuck is smoker fingers?” You looked down to your keyboard and began to type ‘what is smoker fingers?’.

“Okay Chat, smoker fingers are~” you dragged out the final word, “Yellowish discoloration on the ends of your fingers from holding a cigarette; wait!” you look at your fingers. “Oh i know why!” you were about to answer when you got a phone call from Jake.

“Hello, i’m streaming.” you held up your speaker to the microphone.

“You wanna know why your fingers aren’t yellow?” Jake yelled in irritation.

“Why?” you giggled with your hand over your mouth.

“Because you always make me hold your cigarettes! Look at my fingers!”

“I can’t, we’re not on facetime,” you were proved wrong as he came through your door behind you. You turned around to see him just stood there with a hand on the door handle and the other on his hip.

You look at the camera, then the stream to see what the viewers were seeing. Then you turned to see Jake still in the same position, causing you to lean into your hands that were propped up on your desk and failed to conceal your laughter. Jake then strutted up to the camera and held up his yellowing fingers with nails littered with chipped polish.

“Look! This is what she does, making me hold her cigarettes!” he then turned away from the camera to look at you cracking up and trying to hide in your hands. “What do you have to say about this?” he then held him fingers up to your face.

“Cigarettes are gross,” you spoke in a small voice with a smile on your face as you peered up at him.

“So you have it inside of your body?” Jake questioned and looked down at you.

“Well, i do that with you. Don’t I?”

He stood there in shock and strutted out towards the door, then he turned around with a cock of his hip.

“Never speak to me again!” he spoke in an accent, then went to another accent. (idk how to describe it it’s kinda like a pageant mum?) “Love you, sweetie.” he opened and closed his hand in a wave and left your room, leaving you laughing your ass to your audience.

781 words

#jake webber #jake webber x y/n #jake webber x you #jake webber x reader

[matty-bear]

The Elevator Game Gone Wrong [M.S]

type: fic! 

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: long , sfw , fluffy , paranormal activity , hint of getting an attachment (wink wink) , elevators , ritual run through 

summary: as you and the triplets join sam and colby in investigating the most haunted hotel in texas , the two ghost hunters suggest that Matt participates in a ritual called The Elevator Game . little did everyone know that the ritual would actually work and your boyfriend would get stuck in another part of existence . 

notes: i HAD to write a fic based off the SnC x sturniolo collab . n when I found that the sam n colby made matt do this ritual , i knew i had to write a fic based off it :3 hope you guys enjoy reading part one ! be on the lookout for part two <3 

WC: 7098

PT2

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Is the red light really necessary?” Nick asks, a single eyebrow raising as he watches Sam turn on a large red light and set it behind the camera propped up in front of them. 

“It adds a more dramatic effect to the video.” Sam shrugs, taking a few steps back to check if the light is fine in the viewfinder. 

“Well it looks rather terrifying in here so good job guys.” You say, holding up two thumbs up as a small smile spreads across your lips. 

“We try.” Colby smiles, shrugging his shoulders a little before he leans back against his arms on his spot on the mattress. 

“You guys ready to start?” Sam asks as he adverts his gaze from the camera to you and the triplets. 

“We were born ready.” Chris replies, a determined expression clear on his face as he nods faintly. Sam takes a quick glance over at Colby and waits for the male to give him a thumbs up before turning back towards the camera. Without warning, a spew of random sounds spill out of Sam’s mouth as he waves his arms about. Colby follows suit with the random shenanigan and you and the triplets laugh softly at the two before their actions come to a quick halt. 

“It is ritual time.” Sam states as he clasps his hands together and glances over at all of you. 

“Yay.” Nick says, his voice monotone as he wipes his mouth with his hand. 

“Love the sound of that.” Matt comments, earning a small laugh from his two brothers. 

“We are going to do something that we’ve never done before on this channel.” Sam starts, his tone nothing but serious as Nick and Chris let out small shouts of excitement. “We are going to be doing something called The Elevator Game.” 

As Matt and Nick begin to clap softly, Chris speaks up. “That sounds like a very pleasing game to partake in.” The male jokes, earning a small snicker from you as you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter. 

“You guys said you love elevators, right?” 

“Big fans.” Nick replies with a small smile. 

“I hate elevators.” Matt states, his comment drawing laughter from the four other boys in the room.  

“Perfect!” As you take a quick glance over at Matt, Sam clears his throat for a moment before he continues, “That is very interesting because for this ritual, we need a singular volunteer.” 

As Sam slowly looks over and locks eyes with Matt, the rest of the boys look over at the middle triplet with large smiles visible on their lips. 

“Yes Matt!” Nick exclaims as he lightly nudges the said male's leg with his knee. 

Chris reaches behind you to land a singular hand on the older’s shoulder. “Do you wanna volunteer or should we just rule you in?” The male asks as he pats his brother’s back a few times. 

As you lean forward and take in a proper look at your boyfriend, a nervous expression can be seen clear as day on his face as he looks between all the boys in the room. You've known about Matt’s fear of elevators for a little while now. You knew the male would avoid them at all costs unless it was absolutely necessary. In fact, the small mishap that occurred between him and Chris about a year or so ago was the reason why this fear of his became a thing. 

During the duration of filming the collaboration with Sam and Colby, yourself and the triplets often took the elevator to travel between the different floors of the hotel you guys were investigating in. Matt, not wanting to draw attention to himself, dragged himself to the elevator everytime you guys went to a different floor. He always stayed in the corner closest to the door, being ready to exit the moment anything suspicious started happening. 

Speaking of which, when the small malfunction in the elevator occurred when you guys and the tour guides went to go to a different floor and the elevator started acting up, you immediately picked up on Matt’s anxious behavior. When Sam mentioned that someone should step out to see if the same issue with the doors would happen, Matt immediately volunteered and practically ran out of the elevator and stayed outside for a little while until you guys sorted the situation out. 

You had a feeling that Sam and Colby would ask Matt to do this Elevator Ritual when he mentioned his strong dislike for elevators. You knew that your boyfriend would immediately decline because that’s one of his fears but you also knew that the male wouldn’t wanna pass this opportunity up and seem like a pussy. 

“I’ll go on the elevator.” Matt states, earning excited shouts from all the boys, more specifically Sam and Colby. You raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend when he looks over at you. The male subtly takes your hand in his and squeezes your hand three times, signifying that he’ll be alright. 

“Face that fear, Matt.” Chris says as he gently claps his hands together, a proud smile visible on his lips. 

“So that means that Matt and I are going to go into the elevator and go through all 13 floors.” Sam says, his voice low as he looks over at the said male who sends him a little smile. 

“That sounds wonderful.” Nick comments as he nods his head and gently pats Matt’s knee. 

“Then you guys can stay in the lobby and be with-“ 

“Samantha!” Colby shouts, accidentally cutting the blonde off. 

“Yes, Daddy Driskill and Samantha will be accompanying you guys while we do the ritual.” Sam nods, earning excited shouts from Nick and Chris. 

“Yes! The big D!” Nick exclaims, excitement running through his veins as he claps a few times. 

“I am going to explain the rules of The Elevator Game now.” Sam says as he looks straight into the camera. “Now, since the game is a summoning ritual, it is said to, if it works, take us to another plane of existence. I don’t exactly know if that will happen but it’s worth a shot.” 

“Oh my God… That’s not terrifying at all.” Chris jokes as he lands a few playful pokes on Matt’s back. “You better be ready, kid.” 

“Also very important note, there is a chance that we may never come back.” Sam adds, earning shocked exclamations from you and the triplets.

“Isn’t that lovely.” You say as you subconsciously begin to trace circles on the back of Matt’s hand with your thumb. 

“Right? We might never come back.” 

“Chris, I think that’s a sign that you and I should get our license. Who the hell is gonna drive us around if Matt doesn’t come back?” Nick asks, leaning forwards a little to lock eyes with Chris. 

“Shit, you're right.” Chris mumbles, a single hand coming up to rub the side of his face. “Matt, please come back after you do the ritual. I really dont wanna have the responsibility of doing all the laundry.” 

“As long as you guys don’t jinx me, I'm sure I’ll be perfectly fine.” Matt reassures as he lands a soft hit to Chris’ back. 

“I agree with Matt. You guys can’t jinx us.” Sam says as he points a single finger towards all of you, causing you guys to all stick y’all’s hands up in defense. “Anyways, onto the rules.” The blonde digs in his pocket to fish his phone out. After unlocking the device, he pulls up the rules and instructions of the ritual. “So. We are going to have to push a series of buttons and make sure that no one else gets onto the elevator. If the whole place has 13 floors, which this hotel does, then it will summon something on the final floor. We will start in the lobby and go to four, two, six, back to two, ten, and then five. Five is the most haunted floor and the final bit of the ritual.” 

“I love the sound of this guys. I’m so excited.” Matt says, sarcasm laced in his tone as looks down at his lap and uses his free hand to ruffle his hair.

“Are you regretting volunteering?” Chris asks, a small laugh escaping him as he takes in the older’s stressed state. 

“Umm..” Matt starts as he lifts his head back up and looks ahead of him. “I’d rather it be me than you to be honest.” A unison of ‘oh!’s fill the room as Chris narrows his eyes at Matt. “I feel like you would just be better in the elevator than Chris would.” Matt adverts his statement to Nick as he reaches over to his left and lightly hits the older’s arm. 

“Alrighty then. I guess that makes sense.” Chris says as he rubs the slight stubble forming on his chin. 

“You just seem to be the person that’s less fit and prepared to do this.” Nick adds, his head slightly tilting to the side as he looks over at the youngest triplet. As you stifle a laugh and cover your mouth, Chris’ jaw drops as a fake hurt expression spreads across his face. 

“We got some sibling banter over here.” Sam says to the camera as he juts his thumb towards the three brothers. “Anyways, back to the rules of the game. Once we reach the fifth floor, the door will obviously open and it is said that on this said floor, especially knowing that it's the most haunted floor, a female spirit will walk into the elevator with us. To end the ritual, we must press one and go back to where you guys are.” 

A few excited shouts fill the room as all the boys shake their fists. “However!” Sam exclaims, cutting off the shouting as he gently clasps his hands together. 

“Of course there’s a however.” Nick mumbles, earning a small laugh from Colby as the red-head crosses his arms over his abdomen. 

“Rituals can never be all cupcakes and rainbows, you know.” Sam says with a small smile before he diverts his attention back to the camera. “If the ritual is a success, the elevator won’t go to the lobby. It will go up and start ascending. If that happens, that means we’ve successfully summoned something into the elevator.” 

“Are you serious?” Colby asks, a small laugh escaping his lips as he sends the blonde a shocked expression. 

“Is that when the chance of you guys not coming back comes into play?” You ask, a worried expression spreading across your face as you look up at Sam. 

“Yes.” The blonde replies, softly nodding his head as he turns around and locks eyes with you.

“Some Willy Wonka shit is gonna happen then.” Nick jokes, trying to lighten the tense mood filling the room. It seems to work as soft laughter comes from you and the rest of the boys. “We’re just gonna hear a loud crash as the elevator flies out of the hotel.” 

“We’re just gonna be flying into the oblivion.” Sam adds as he shoots his arm up to mimic the action of the elevator flying. 

“Yeah, I will not be very happy if that happens.” Matt points a finger at Sam as the latter laughs softly. “If I get stuck in this elevator, I feel bad for Sam. That’s all ima say.” 

“Awh.” Sam chuckles lightly as he brings a hand up to his chest. “Considering the amount of mishaps we’ve had with the elevator earlier, I really hope nothing bad happens.” 

“If shit goes down after we’re done with the ritual, you guys are gonna be next.” Matt points both his pointer fingers towards Nick and Chris who hurriedly shake their heads. 

“Let’s just hope you come back first.” Nick says as he lands a hand on Matt’s shoulder. 

“They will come back, don’t worry.” Colby reassures as he looks over at Sam and gently nods his head. 

“Well, we’ll never find that out if we don’t do it. So shall we get this ritual started?” Sam asks he turns towards all you guys, a large smile visible on his lips as he rubs his hands together. 

“Hell yeah!” Chris exclaims as he slips off the mattress. 

“Let’s all head to the lobby then.” As Sam walks up to the camera to shut it off, Nick and Colby follow Chris in exiting the room. After ensuring that the males leave and that Sam is busy with the camera, you look over at Matt who’s began to fiddle with the horse chain on his neck. 

“You really wanna do this?” You whisper, your voice low as you lean in closer to your boyfriend. 

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s just an elevator, right?” Matt replies as he looks over at you. As he sends you a small smile, you gently nod your head and slip off the bed. You stick your hand out to Matt, who quickly takes it and allows you to pull him up to his feet. Before following Sam out the door, you land a quick kiss on Matt’s temple before guiding him out of the room. 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

Upon arriving in the lobby, Sam and Colby begin to set up their equipment as you and the triplets patiently wait in front of the elevator. 

“Alright.” Sam begins as he adjusts his hold on the camera in his hand before turning it on. “Any thoughts before we start Matt?”

“Umm…” Matt starts as he begins to rock back and forth on his heels. “I have to say that the nausea I’ve been feeling for the past five minutes or so has increased significantly.” 

“You’ve been feeling nauseous?” Colby asks, adverting his focus from the camera in his hand to look over at Matt, a worried expression clear on his face as he glances over at Sam. The two ghost hunters share a worried look before Nick speaks up.

“We’ve all been feeling a little nauseous.” Nick begins as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I started feeling it when we sat down to eat, Matt started feeling it five minutes ago, y/n started feeling it when we were giving candy offerings to Samantha, and Chris felt it the second we got here.” 

“That doesn’t sound very good…” Sam says, his voice trailing off as he gestures Colby to grab something in the backpack. “Maybe we should sage you guys again before we start the ritual.” 

“Should we do it here or go outside?” Colby asks as he digs inside the backpack laying at his feet. 

“We can do it here.” Colby gently nods his head before bringing the sage out. He gestures you and the triplets to stand in a line before he quickly waves the sage around the four of you. “That should do it. If you guys keep feeling nauseous, we can take a break.” 

“We appreciate it guys.” You say with a small smile. 

“Of course. Safety comes first.” Sam says, earning a firm head nod from Colby. “Anyways, you ready to start?” Sam turns the camera to Matt and gently pats his shoulder a few times. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Matt replies with a gentle head nod. 

“Are you not gonna say goodbye to your siblings and girlfriend? You may never see them again if the ritual works.” Colby asks as he gestures towards you, Nick, and Chris. 

Matt turns around and sticks his arm out to Nick, who sends him a glare before hesitantly shaking his hand. 

“A hand shake?” Colby laughs softly as Nick wraps his arms around Matt and brings him in for a quick embrace. “See, that’s much better.” After pulling away, Chris and Matt share a firm handshake before also sharing a quick hug. 

“Okay, I’ll start googling places where we can get our licenses.” Nick says softly as he brings a hand up to rub his nape. 

“Dude, I’m not dead yet…” Matt says, a hurtful expression spreading across his face as he pulls away from Chris who smacks his chest a few times. 

“Yet.” Sam repeats, a small laugh escaping his lips as he watches Matt playfully shove Chris back. As the younger giggles softly, Matt turns to you, his gaze softening as he immediately brings you in for an embrace. Collective ‘awh’s come from all the boys when Matt lands a quick peck on your lips and forehead. 

“Leave your license behind before you go to another universe please.” Nick says, earning a rapid head nod from Chris. After pulling away from the hug, Matt shakes his head and digs in his pocket to pull out his wallet. As he wordlessly hands Nick his wallet, Chris comes up behind him and grabs both his shoulders. 

“I call dibs on that one jacket in your closet by the way.” Chris says, a large smile plastered on his lips as he massages the older’s shoulders. 

“Wonderful, alright. We’re all just claiming all my shit.” Matt says with a soft laugh. As the male turns to face you, he raises an eyebrow when he takes in your smiley face. “You too?” 

“I only want a few stuff.” You defend as you hold up your hand and pinch your pointer finger and thumb together. 

“Yeah, okay. Like that’s believable.” As Matt laughs and shakes his head gently, the sound of the elevator dinging causes all of you to quickly turn around. 

“What the fuck?” Colby mumbles, his face falling as he looks into the empty elevator. 

“Did you guys push anything?” Sam asks as he points a finger at you and the triplets. 

“No. Swear to God we didn’t.” Nick defends as he holds both his hands up. 

“It’s fucking midnight.” Colby states after his eyes scan over the numbers plastered on the top of his Lock Screen. He shows the camera his phone to ensure that he's telling the truth before turning the device to you and the rest of the boys. 

“I personally would not go in there.” Chris says as he wraps his arms around his torso, a nervous expression clear on his face. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either.” You add as you reach your hand out to grab Matt’s. 

“Well, we can’t back out now. It is twelve o’clock after all.” Sam says, a heavy exhale leaving his lips as he looks over at Colby, the two locking eyes for a moment. “I think that we should start this ritual before more weird shit happens.” 

“Please be careful.” You say, your voice firm as you look up at Matt. The male looks down at you and gently cups the side of your face with a single hand, the pad of his thumb gently caressing your cheek in hopes of calming your sudden anxiety spike. 

“We will, don’t worry.” Sam reassures as he begins to walk towards the elevator. He looks inside the small space for a moment, ensuring that nothing and no one is inside before he hesitantly steps in. “You coming?” 

Matt quickly shifts his gaze from you to Sam who’s standing at the back of the elevator. “Yeah, I'm coming.” Matt replies. Before the male enters the elevator, he bends down a little to capture his lips in yours. He pulls back after a few seconds and gently caresses your face before joining Sam in the elevator. 

“You two be safe.” Chris calls as he moves to take a stand in between you and Nick. 

“Yeah, come back please!” Nick adds as he subconsciously wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. 

“We’ll be back, promise.” Sam reassures as he sets a small device in the middle of the elevator. 

“Wait, I need photos for the prayer cards.” Nick states, a hand quickly digging in his pocket to fish his phone out. As he opens his camera and faces it towards Matt, the male holds up a small v, practically posing for the camera. You can’t help but giggle at the sight before Nick smiles proudly and puts his phone away. 

“Alright, we’re gonna start now guys.” Sam states as he walks up a few steps, his frame being inches away from the entrance of the elevator. After looking over at Matt and gaining a firm head nod from him, the two begin the ritual. 

“Please take us to another world.” Matt and Sam say in unison. The blonde reaches over to push a button to close the elevator and takes a few steps back to stand next to Matt. At the sight of the door closing, the male shouts out a small ‘oh god!’, a mix of fear and anxiousness filling his body as he eyes the door. 

“Matt, I love you have fun.” Nick says as he makes a small heart with both his hands. Matt sends the red-head a small smile before the doors finally close. 

“I really hope nothing bad happens.” Chris mumbles as he shakes his head slightly, nervousness bubbling in him as he stares at the closed elevator doors. 

“Me too.” Colby agrees as he forces his lips together in a straight line. The male momentarily turns his back to you and the two brothers to dig inside his backpack. After a few moments of searching, he pulls out two EMF readers and holds them out in front of him. “Which one of you guys would like to have the honors in holding one?” 

“I would love to have one.” Nick says, a small smile appearing on his lips as he bounces on his heels a few times. 

“Me too.” You add, landing a hand on Nick’s shoulder as the two of you step closer to Colby. The latter gently nods his head and hands the two of you an EMF reader. 

“Okay, how should we start this?” Colby asks as he leans his backpack against the wall and focuses the camera on you three. 

“We can start walking around to see if we get anything on the EMF readers.” You suggest with a small shrug. Colby nods his head at your suggestion and gestures for you and Nick to begin walking around with his hand. 

“Wait, didn’t the tour guide say that-“ 

“Your reader is going off!” Chris exclaims, accidentally cutting his older brother off as he points to the said device with his pointer finger. The youngest triplet seems to be correct as Nick looks down at the EMF reader in his hand and sees the device light up the first three levels. 

“You got anything yet y/n?” Colby asks as he zooms the lenses into Nick’s EMF reader to capture the activity. 

“Nope. Nothing yet.” You reply softly as you begin to walk a bit further away from the group, your eyes being locked onto the device in your hand the entire time. 

“The tour guide said that the bathroom is one of the most haunted places.” Nick states as he begins to gently wave the EMF reader about, trying to get it to spike up any further. “I think we should go see if we get any activity over there.” 

“Great idea, let’s head over there. Lead the way.” Colby gently nods his head towards Nick to encourage the male to lead the group to the bathrooms. The red-head complies and begins to walk towards a hallway a little ways to the right, the three of you following close behind him. 

“Let’s see…” Nick mumbles, more to himself than to anyone else. While you and the male walk around and inside the bathrooms, ya’ll don’t get much activity apart from a few spikes that went to yellow. 

“Let’s go back to the elevator. We’re not getting much.” You say as you walk out of the women’s bathroom, the door shutting behind you and coming in contact with the heels of your shoes. 

Colby nods his head and waits for Nick to return from the male’s bathroom before you guys walk back to the elevator. The moment you stand next to the elevator, your EMF reader spikes all the way to red. 

“Mine just went to red.” You say, your voice a little louder than usual to gain the attraction of the three males in the room. 

“Holy shit.” Colby mumbles as he quickly makes his way over to you. As he zooms his lens into the device in your hand, Nick and Chris come up to the other side of you and look down at your EMF reader. “Nick, you getting anything?” 

“Mines still at yellow.” The red-head replies, momentarily turning the reader so it can face the camera before he turns it back to face him. 

“Maybe we should pull out the onvoy and see if we get anything. You know, considering how much activity we’ve been getting around here already.” Colby suggests as he walks back to his backpack and pulls it open. 

“What’s that?” Chris asks, his head tilting slightly as he watches the ghost hunger pull a device out of his bag. 

“It’s basically a device that gives us yes or no responses through questions we ask.” Colby explains as he crouches down and sets the device on the floor. After turning it on and waiting for it to light up, he looks up at the three of you who are already intently looking at him. “Something just has to physically tap it like so for us to get a response.” Colby sets his pointer finger on the device for a moment and awaits for it to beep a few times and light up yes before he pulls away.

“That doesn’t sound too difficult.” You ponder aloud as you take a momentarily glance towards the EMF reader in your hand. 

“It’s not difficult whatsoever. Would you guys like to start asking some questions?” 

“Absolutely.” Chris replies with a small smile as the three of you take a seat around the onvoy. 

“If there are any spirits that would like to communicate with us tonight, please make yourself known by using this device to answer our questions. All you have to do is come up and touch it to let us know what your thoughts are.” Colby calls out, his head turning around a few times before he turns his focus back to you and the two brothers. 

“What should we ask first?” Nick asks gently, his eyes staying fixed on the EMF reader in his hand. 

“Do you think that Sam and Matt are gonna make it back to us?” Chris asks, anxiousness laced in his tone as he practically stares down at the onvoy. A few beats of silence pass by before the device dings a few times. 

Colby lets out a small gasp of surprise at the sound and leans in close to the onvoy. “It says yes!” The male exclaims happily as he zooms the lens into the response. 

The moment the male reads that aloud, the sound of the elevator dinging alerts the four of you. Quickly, you all turn around and collectively let out sighs of relief as the doors open and reveal Sam and Matt. 

“You’re done already?” Nick asks, his mouth agape as he watches the two males step out of the elevator rather quickly. 

“Yeah, we practically flew through all the floors.” Matt replies, a small, proud smile visible on his lips as he approaches the four of you who are still sitting on the floor. When the male stands behind you, you quickly turn your body to face him, a large smile spreading across your lips, as you immediately reach for your boyfriend’s hand. As you caress it gently and bring his hand up to your lips to land a small kiss on his knuckles, Sam takes a stand next to him. 

“Did you guys get anything?” The blonde asks as he stashes the device him and Matt were using in the elevator in his pocket. 

“No.” Colby replies with a frown. “We literally asked a single question.” 

“Yeah, the one question I asked is ‘Do you think that Sam and Matt are gonna make it back to us?” Chris adds as he gets himself up from the floor and dusts his pants off a little. “The moment it said yes, the door opened.” 

“It was crazy timing.” Nick comments as he follows suit in getting up off the floor. 

“Really?” Sam asks, his jaw dropping slightly as he looks over at Colby with pure shock in his face. 

“Really.” Nick confirms with a firm head nod. “We didn’t have time to ask a bunch of questions. Chris was the only person that got to ask a question.”

“Well, Sam and I encountered no issues while we were doing the ritual. We went through all the floors with ease. However, we didn’t really get anything with the device we were using. I mean, we did get a few words but I found them to be more random than anything.” 

“Yeah, that has got to be the fastest ritual we’ve ever experienced.” Colby comments, his head gently nodding as he looks between Sam and Matt. 

“It was pretty easy, nothing too difficult.” Matt says, his gaze falling to yours and his intertwined fingers. 

“Would you like to do it again then? But by yourself this time?” Sam inquires, a single eyebrow raising as he looks over at the brunette. 

Silence fills the lobby as you all stare at Matt, awaiting for his response. You manage to catch your boyfriend’s face falling slightly as he looks over at Sam, his eyes slightly wide as he locks eyes with him. Sensing the male’s sudden anxiety spike, you begin to play with his fingers in hopes of grounding him a little. 

Matt blinks hardly a few times as he looks down at you, his eyes basically pleading for you to answer the question for him. At the brunette’s gaze, you pick your free hand up and land a soft poke on his chest, signaling that it’s his call. You watch as the male sighs before he picks his head back up and looks up at his two brothers who shrug at him. Matt forces his lips together and looks over at Sam, his right hand coming up to his nape as he locks eyes with the blonde. 

“I would- I don’t-“ Matt sputters, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he digs in the pocket of his pants. “I’d have to write down the numbers…” 

“Is that a yes then?” Sam asks, excitement glossing over his eyes as he zooms the lens onto the male in front of him. After Matt gently nods his head in response, collective shouts of encouragement sounds from you and the boys. 

“You sure you wanna do it alone?” Chris asks as he walks up to the brunette, a single hand coming up to rest it on his brother's shoulder. “The chance of you never coming back is still there. You’ll be fully alone in another universe.” At the younger’s statement, Nick lands a harsh hit on Chris’s bicep, signaling him to shut up with an intense glare. 

“Well, you guys better start looking up ways to get me back if the ritual actually works.” Matt replies, a nervous smile overtaking his features as he begins to fiddle with the horse chain around his neck. 

Colby goes to add onto the conversation however, the sound of the elevator dinging alerts all six of you. You all turn around to face the elevator, fear running through y’all’s bodies at the sight of the doors opening more slower than usual. 

“I think that’s a sign, Matt.” Sam says as he lands a hand on the said male’s shoulder. 

“I guess I’ll go then. Could you text me the numbers?” Matt asks with a soft sigh. As Sam gently nods his head and fishes his phone out of his pocket, Colby walks up to the brunette. 

“You wanna take this camera?” The ghost hunter asks as he holds the said device out in front of him. 

“Sure.” Colby sends Matt a small smile when the male hesitantly takes the camera from him. 

“Matt, please be careful. Like I'm being so for real. I have no idea what we would do without you.” Nick says, a frown overtaking his features as he walks up the middle triplet and lands both his hands on his shoulders. 

“I will, don’t worry. If you guys focus on asking questions, I will be back in no time.” Matt reassures, a comforting smile spreading across his lips as he brings the red-head in for a quick embrace. 

“Wait, me too. I want a hug as well.” Chris whines as he quickly makes his way over to the three of you. Nick pulls away with a small eye roll and steps aside to allow the younger to get his hug. 

“I sent you the numbers. You can head in when you’re ready.” Sam says, his voice soft as he picks his head up and looks over at Matt, the hand that’s holding his phone digging inside his pocket to put the said device away. 

“Word.” Matt replies. After Chris breaks away from the hug and steps back, Matt looks over at you and takes in your worried features. “I promise I’ll be alright. I’ll be back in no time.” Your boyfriend gently cups your face with his free hand, the pad of his thumb gently caressing over your soft skin. 

You gently nod your head, the faint frown on your lips not faltering as you look deep into your boyfriend’s blue irises that hold a sense of anxiousness. Matt brings your face closer to his to bring you in for a quick kiss. Before pulling away, he nibbles on your bottom lip for a moment. 

The brunette removes his hand from your face and gives you a small smile before he turns around to face Sam. “I’m ready.” The male says. 

“Alright, go ahead and step in.” Sam instructs as he gestures towards the open and empty elevator. Matt immediately does as instructed and hesitantly steps inside the elevator, a heavy sigh escaping him as he raises the hand that’s holding the camera. “You know what to say.” The blonde says with a smile as he gives the younger male a thumbs up with his free hand.  

Matt looks straight at the camera, his tongue slipping out of his mouth to drag over his slightly chapped lips momentarily, before he begins the ritual. “Please take me to another world. I may regret saying that but hey, see you guys later.” Matt takes a final glance at all of you standing a few steps away from the doors of the elevator before he steps toward the panel full of bottoms. 

“We love you Matt!” Chris exclaims, both his hands coming up to cup over his mouth to get his voice to project more loudly. 

“Be safe!” You add, sliding over to Nick and wrapping an arm around his. You manage to catch Matt waving goodbye before the doors of the elevator finally shut. 

“Guys, go subscribe to the Sturniolos.” Sam states as he turns the camera in his hand and points at it. 

“And comment about how ballsy Matt is. I’m actually so shocked about how he’s been doing this whole investigation. He’s usually never this open and talkative during stuff like this.” Nick says as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, I'm actually really proud of him. He's doing phenomenal.” Colby compliments as he gently claps a few times. 

“Let’s just hope he hasn’t been too open today. We don’t want him to get any-“ Sam gets cut off by Colby harshly digging his elbow into his side. The blonde winces softly and flinches at the touch, his eyes narrowing as he sends a glare towards his friend. 

“Get any what?” You ask, panic flooding in you as you take in Colby’s serious expression. 

“Nothing. We should start asking some questions before Matt comes back.” Colby replies, a small smile appearing on his lips as he turns back around. You share a worried look with Nick and Chris before the three of you, including Sam, join Colby in sitting on the floor around the onvoy. “Who would like to ask the first question?” 

“I would.” Nick says, picking his head up to lock eyes with Colby. After gaining a small head nod from the male, he takes a deep inhale before speaking, “Was sending Matt alone a good decision?” A few beats of silence pass by before the onvoy dings. Nick bends down slightly to read the response. “Yes!” 

“Will Matt find more information regarding what happened at the hotel?” Chris asks as he brings his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them. The onvoy dings seconds after the question. “No…” 

“Alright..” You mumble. You clear your throat before asking your question, “Will someone join Matt in the elevator when he reaches the fifth floor?” Like earlier, the onvoy immediately dings as it lights up a response. “Yes. Well isn’t that nice. Doesn’t make my anxiety worse at all.” 

The boys all giggle at your statement as you rub your face with both your hands. 

“Is Matt in any danger?” Sam asks, momentarily turning the camera around to put himself in the frame before he turns it back around. Again, the onvoy immediately dings a response. You and the boys take a moment to pause and exchange anxious looks before yall lean in and read the response. 

“Yes.” 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

20 minutes have gone by as you and the boys took turns asking questions to the spirits willing to communicate with you guys. Some of the questions have gotten rapid responses while others have taken a little longer to reply. As time slowly ticked away, you felt anxiety bubble inside of you. Matt should’ve been back by now considering how he and Sam returned in less than 10 minutes when they did the ritual. You found yourself continuously looking over at the closed elevator everytime someone else in the group spoke up to ask a question, hoping that the doors would open and reveal your boyfriend. Unfortunately it never happened and the doors remained shut. 

“Okay, I'm getting really worried. He should be back by now.” You say, your gaze on the closed elevator doors shifting up to the number 10 glowing brightly in large, bold lettering. 

“Well, he’s on the tenth floor right now. All he has to do is go to five and come back.” Sam says as he takes a seat against the wall facing the elevator, his arms coming up to cross over his chest. 

“Okay true but what’s taking him so long?” Nick asks, a single hand coming up to his mouth. As the red-head begins to bite on his polished nails, Chris takes a glance over at your focused state. He forces his lips into a straight line, worry and anxiety filling his veins at the thought of Matt not returning. 

“He’s at five.” Colby states as he points at the glowing number atop the elevator. The rest of the boys join you and the ghost hunter in looking over at the elevator. 

“Please come back.” You whisper under your breath, a sudden lump forming in your throat as you swallow dryly. As you shakily exhale, a sudden poke on your side causes you to jump rather harshly. “What the fuck?” You mumble as you quickly hug your torso and turn around.

“What happened?” Chris asks, his head whipping around to look over at you. 

“Did one of you guys poke me?” You ask as you lift your head up. 

“None of us touched you.” Colby says as he lifts both his hands up in the air. A wave of nausea suddenly hits you as you slowly turn around to look at Sam, the sight of him looking at you worriedly causing your stomach to churn. As you go to question the blonde, soft giggles bubble up your throat as you feel a series of rapid pokes travel down your other side. After the feeling vanishes, you stumble to your feet and run over to where Nick and Chris are, fear washing over you as you desperately rub your sides to try and get the ghostly feeling away. 

“Samantha.” Sam mumbles under his breath, his eyes slightly going wide as he looks over at your panicked state. 

“Samantha, if that's you, please leave her alone. You do not have permission to touch her.” Colby states, his tone holding a sense of authority as he takes a few quick glances around the room. 

At the mention of the child’s name, Nick’s eyes widen in a mix of terror and shock and he quickly looks down at you. Without a word, he wraps his arms around your slightly shorter frame and brings you flush against him. 

“Samantha, are you messing with y/n?” Chris asks as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, his gaze falling to the unused onvoy on the floor. 

The said device immediately beeps in response. 

Colby lifts himself up from the wall he’s leaning against and walks up to the onvoy. His tall frame bends down slightly before his eyes skim over the response. 

“It says yes.” Colby says, his gaze lifting up from the device and shifting over to Sam. The two share a frightened look as you feel your heart drop to your feet. You quickly turn around and bury your face in Nick’s clothed chest, your breath beginning to pick up as you clutch onto the male’s arms rather desperately.

“It’s okay.” Nick whispers as he rests his chin on the top of your head. As he begins to rub comforting circles on your back with his palm, the sound of the elevator dinging pierces your ears. You quickly lift your head and look over at the elevator, the rest of the boys soon doing the same. 

“Matt?” You call out, your voice cracking slightly as you slip out of Nick’s hold and run to the elevator. 

“y/n wait!” Chris exclaims, his arm extending out to go to grab you and pull you back. His attempt fails however as you slip through the opening of the elevator, not even waiting for the door to fully open. The moment you step inside, you feel your breath get caught in your throat .

Matt isn’t in the elevator. 

And the only thing inside is the camera and his horse necklace. 

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· TagList ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

@freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @patscorner @rootbeerworshiper

comment to be added to the taglist and click here to know more abt it!

#nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt x reader #nick x reader #chris x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #paranormal #sam golbach #colby brock #sam and colby #The elevator game

[transformhim]

Pose

“We good here?”

The model’s question caught him off guard as Raul looked up from from his camera, adjusting the frame and focus for his next shot while his assistant, Damien, moved onto the set to adjust the light and prop placements. The deep bass background music played throughout the apartment in the awkward silence.

The fuck does he mean, are we done?? We’ve hardly started! Raul thought with an annoyed scratch at the back of his head. The model had been a terrible subject to begin with, giving poses and taking heavy sighs at each direction Raul tried to give him, and essentially treated the shoot as though it was something he was bored doing. His payment was way more than modest and the shoot wasn’t supposed to take more than an hour, but he looked like he was ready to leave just 20 minutes in.

Raul cleared his throat, “Uhh, actually we still need a couple more shots. The client is looking for a pretty varied spread to choose from. So if we could j—..”

“Come on, man, you’re really gonna make me do this for another 40 minutes? I’m sure what you got is fine.”

Raul breathed in heavily, “Look, it’ll just take a bit more, the contract said that it wouldn’t be—..”

“Well, you can take it up with my agent, man, I got places I gotta be,” the model started stepping off the set, turning his back to Raul to start packing his things.

Raul turned his eyes towards Damien, lifting his palms up in a disbelieving gesture and shaking his head. Damien just rolled his eyes and shrugged with a dejected smirk. They’ve dealt with these kinds of divas numerous times before. Almost too many to count, actually.

But money had been tight at the studio since the pandemic hit, and even all these years later it still hadn’t recovered. they couldn’t afford to keep getting these types of dismissive twats leave shoots before they were supposed to. Clients were always very specific about what they wanted and could cut pay if they weren’t satisfied.

But Raul and Damien had their own means of dealing with these kinds of rude bastards. As they exchanged wordless looks expressing their annoyance and frustration, Damien’s eyes began to slowly drift towards the model off set, gathering his belongings. His dejected look changed to one of curiosity as he bit his lip. He looked towards Raul and narrowed his eyes with a cheeky grin.

‘Should I?’ Damien mouthed silently towards Raul.

A sly grin spread across Raul’s face as he considered Damien’s proposal. He looked back at the model—turned away from them as he texted to his agent or slam piece or gym family or whatever—and back at Damien, biting his lip mischievously and nodding.

Damien smiled wider and stretched. He took off his tank top and tossed it aside, his toned hairy torso now bare. His fingers hooked under his waistband, and his basketball shorts and boxers drop silently to the floor as he kicked them over on top of his tank top. Now naked and hardening quickly, he arched his back in a stretch, rolled his neck, and rubbed his palms together as he stepped towards Raul. He leaned in for a quick kiss with his partner as he took the bottle body oil next to Raul that the model had used and squirted a massive helping into his hand, slathering it over his chest, arms, and face. Quickly, he moved towards the model gathering his things, ducking down lower as he approached.

“When you get to it, make sure my payment goes t—UUUHHHNNGGG!!” The model was interrupted in the middle of his sentence as Damien, in one fluid motion, pulled the model’s speedo down and plunged his face between his globular asscheeks. The model groaning and grunting in mindless pain and confusion, gripping the sides of the table where his things were sitting, as Damien popped his oily face and head into model’s tight hole, sending a loud squelching *SCHLORP* echoing through the apartment.

Damien’s slick body then began to suck up into the model’s hole, his muscular tan form thinning and contorting as he slithered deeper and deeper into the model’s guts, the entire process emitting a familiar meaty, slimy, slurping sound Raul knew and loved so well. Raul licked his lips, pawing his swelling package, as he watched the model’s sculpted ass distend slightly as his tight hole widen more and more as it hungrily slurped Damien inside him, his tattooed, lubricated form and limbs compressing in on themselves as he plunged deeper. Raul couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the model—he knew full well how ecstatic and orgasmic it felt to have Damien slither up inside him… and what came next.

Just as Damien’s ass and throbbing rod sank into the model’s guts, his thighs and legs shot up into the hole at a much faster speed, whipping into the model’s hole noisily. Raul had shoved his hands into his shorts and was stroking eagerly as the Damien's feet slurped inside while the model groaned and contorted, arching his neck and back and standing on the tips of his toes, cringing at the pain and pleasure racking through his body.

Damien was gleefully readjusting his out-of-proportion frame within the squeezing, slimy, meaty confines of the model’s body, feeling different parts of the model’s sides, abs, and back twitch, flex, and contort, as his body tried to adjust to its invader. He could hear the muffled sounds of Raul’s horny, drunken laughter from the outside, thinking he for sure must have been making the model appear to have a substantially pregnant beer gut as Damien’s body centralized in his torso. After using a stretched out hand to brush his lubricated, wet hair out of his face, Damien went to work shoving his limbs into the model’s extremities.

Damien loudly moaned from within the body as he felt his arms and legs come to new life with increased strength and size while his limbs shoved through slick meat like a tight sleeve into the model’s beefy appendages. He smirked, feeling cocky and horny as he felt his arms burst into massive cannons and his heart fluttered as he felt the rest of him come to life. Damien arched in exhilarated bliss as he felt his chest, torso, and back first compress under the weight of the model’s squeezing body and then surge outward in new sensations of power and mass as Damien’s senses merged with the model’s, enticing him to give his big chest a flex to feel it bounce with new weight.

Raul nearly blew his load from an observer’s perspective. The model’s head was lolled backwards and his eyes rolled back while his body underwent what looked to be an instant pump, his muscles standing out more prominently under his skin, bit by bit, as his boyfriend filled him up like a balloon. Raul gasped as he stroked himself, watching Damien fill up the model’s lower half, making his already impressive thighs and glutes swell larger still. The thong he was wearing for the shoot looked somehow more risqué than earlier, hugging the model’s sweaty skin more tightly and accentuating his now-larger parts. The model was no longer the shredded twunk he was when he came into the apartment, but a swaggering thicc muscle stud with his and Damien’s combined mass.

Finally, Raul could see a sizable lump appear from near the model’s collarbone, stretching the model’s gold chain to its limit, as Damien began to shove his own head upwards into the model’s. He began to elicit deeper, gurgling groans as Damien wiggled and stretched his head up into the neck. Raul felt himself nearing completion as the model’s head suddenly jolted upwards with a dull crack, the lump in the model’s throat now gone. It wasn’t until Raul heard Damien utter his first satisfied groan in the model’s low voice that he blew his pent up load all over the floor in front of him.

Damien rolled his head around in his new body, stretched his shoulders and panted a few more breaths. He touched the foreign curves and angles in his face for a moment, turned on by his own handsome, sharp, smooth face. He felt sweat dripping off him from his exertion and huffed a big whiff of the new musk he emitted. Not bad!

“Alright!” He rubbed his hands off his face and down his pillowy chest.

“Let’s take some pictures.”

Damien turned to see that Raul had blown a sizable load all over the floor, some even on the set, and giggled as Raul chuckled, panting, coaxing the last of his load out of his shaft, letting it dribble down his fingers and onto the puddle below.

“Already?! Come on, man,” Damien chastised playfully.

“Sorry, babe, I just love the way you filled him out, dude. Fuck!”

“Oh? Y’like?” Damien teased walking towards him, saucily lolling his tongue out while he flexing his arms hard and tensing his pec muscles several times. He was being corny like always, but Raul was kicked into 5th gear again, instantly ready to blow another load.

“Yeah, dude, I fuckin’ do,” Raul took the liberty of feeling up Damien’s slick muscle gut, running his hands over his protruding abs. Damien could see how into this his boyfriend was and decided to move things forward a bit.

He grabbed Raul’s hand and shoved it into his thong, feeling his new hardening 7 incher steel against his boyfriend’s palm. He humped and gyrated his mammoth cock against Raul’s hand and asked, “What about the shoot?”

“Shoot can wait,” Raul moaned as he gripped onto Damien’s slick dick and stroked, lifting up Damien’s huge arm with his other hand and burying his face into Damien’s sweaty pits, licking and lapping at the moist surface while inhaling deeply.

Damien lifted up his other arm for Raul to let his boyfriend worship his other pit, bouncing his pecs a bit as Raul slathered his greedy face across his sweaty jugs on his way to the next pit. Damien grinned as he felt Raul continue to lovingly work his shaft. He was looking forward to a hedonistic, indulgent weekend with his boyfriend—he just hoped they eventually remember to finish the shoot.

#male transformation #male tf #muscle #muscle growth tf #male body suit #body suit tf #male possession #straight to gay tf #absorption #musky #male scent #male body transformation

[recuira]

Buggy Headcanons ˗ˏˋ꒰🍒꒱ˎˊ˗

★ — OPLA Buggy the Clown ♡

﹢he's the type of guy to follow the "i hate everyone but you" trope. the second he sees you, his heart lights up and he drops everything he's doing to go talk to you, even just for a moment. he could be heated, yelling at his crew, but when he sees you, he smiles and drops everything until you leave.

﹢he's a sucker for cuddles. absolutely loves them. if he's had a long and stressful day, he'll just fall on top of you and pass out. he loves to lay on you. his head on your chest as he rub his back or play with his hair. he definitely snores. not too loud but not quiet either. sometimes it'll get loud and you'll need to wake him up to get some decent sleep x)

﹢both a morning/night person. he goes to bed late and wakes up early. he doesn't get too much sleep because of how busy he is. sometimes the only time he gets with you is when you're both in me. if he's not deathly tired, he'll lay on his side with his head propped up on his hand as he listens to you talk about your day. your voice soothes him.

﹢he's very insecure. lowkey hates himself. his ego is forced and a facade for others so he can intimidate them. he hates his nose. he hates the subject being brought up in any conversation. when he was younger, before meeting shanks, he would wear a mask to hide his nose.

﹢i know everyone is like "buggy is a sex god and dominant and-" no. sorry. he is extremely insecure. it took him a while to show you who he really was. he lets himself unfold with you. he is himself with you. his true self.

﹢the crossbones on his forehead and upper cheek are tattooed on but he paints his face with makeup. his eyelashes are naturally long but he does wear falsies to accentuate it and make himself look more like a clown. his hair is naturally long but he tends to tuck and pin it back underneath the striped bandana.

﹢he likes things to be equal during sex. no top or bottom. as cringe as it may sound, he loves to call it 'love-making'. no fucking or hooking up - rather making love with one another. he worships you, especially in the bedroom. constant kisses and praise. loves doing all of the work, especially if you're stressed out. his favorite position is when you're both laying down on your sides and your holding each other while he makes love to you.

﹢he's a strict believer in taking care of you. pays for meals, surprises you with presents, doesn't want you working- he wants you to be completely comfortable and satisfied. someone as special like you should never even lift a finger. he has it all covered.

﹢loves to let you do his makeup. sometimes he'll be reading the newspaper while you're painting his eyes or lips. it's like he's an actor and you're his makeup artist. he can never get the lines as precise and as neat as you can. once you're finished, he gives you a kiss on your cheek, leaving a red mark. this happens every time.

﹢he's a goofy drunk, very humorous and silly. but as he sobers up, he becomes extremely clingy and doesn't let go of you.

﹢in the public eye, he acts very possessive of you, like he's the one in control. he always needs to be touching you. if you're apart, he'll send a hand your way and hold yours while he's busy. preferably his off-hand so he can still get some work done.

﹢people are scared of him for obvious reasons but when it's just the two of you, he's a big baby. sometimes he'll even use a certain voice whenever he talks to you. you tease him in public, telling others he's a completely different person when you two are alone. he laughs, calls you crazy, and plays it off.

﹢he loves no one more than he loves you.

﹢whenever he performs a show, he always gets you a seat up front. makes sure you can kick your feet up, your popcorn is always full, and you're enjoying yourself. whenever he pulls someone up on the set to help with one of his acts, you're almost always the person he picks.

﹢his favorite moments with you are when you're sitting on the deck of his ship, everyone else is asleep, and the two of you are counting the stars together and admiring one another.

﹢he loves to eat. if you two are eating together, he'll ask for the rest of yours and then some. messy eater, too.

﹢he's a great listener. loves to hear about your day.

﹢he loves to give you massages. just loves to pamper you, in general. your feet will be kicked up on his lap as he rubs them and you vent about your day or your laying on your back and he's above you, massaging your shoulders and hips.

﹢he just loves you. and he is a sweet and delicate man so treat him like one. he's the type of guy to sacrifice the world for you, not you for the world.

#buggy one piece #buggy the genius jester #captain buggy #buggy the clown #one piece live action #op buggy #x reader #buggy #buggy x reader #buggy smut #one piece buggy #opla buggy #buggy headcanons #buggy opla

[comfortless]

so. please consider: König is a prince (yeah we aren’t going full king this route, maybe he has an older brother or some complications having the throne to himself but either way he has some power just not all of it lol) and reader is part of a performing troupe that usually acts out plays outside of the castle. he goes out to watch them and becomes so desperate for her that he gets /her/ to perform as /him/ when the plays are about his heroic deeds or whatever.

i have had this idea stuck in my head for days and i just know you can bring it to life 🩵

the evil little König in my head took over. no one look at me. 🥩🏰

prince!König x fem reader.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. dubcon. mentions of adultery (not committed by reader or König), corruption kink (virgin!König), cunnilingus, light roleplay, scent & praise kink, smut (piv), reader is kind of evil here (König still manages to be worse), allusions to abduction.

“You are certainly lovelier than my wife, the Queen!”

He had his sword drawn, not high enough to elicit panic, but just enough to know that yes, there was a very present threat. This could be a bloodbath in an instant. Speak another word — he won’t refrain. He feels his teeth grit, grating, ash in the mouth and in the air.

The actors are unaware where they are stood on stage, and the mass of bodies surrounding barely take note of their Prince. A phantom. Loathed thing that he has always been. More hated than even their lecherous, stupid king. There’s only one thing he’s good for and it’s never been politics; there’s no need to garner up public appeal when your stage is a foreign field littered with blood and corpses.

Another insult to his poor mother and the city could be one too.

From a small wooden booth acting as a prop depiction of a brothel, steps a woman. Barefoot, bare flesh, the only thing she wears is a breast band and a loincloth of finely stitched lace. She isn’t a whore, not in truth, but she looks the part of the women his men rush to the second they’ve returned home. Ale and sex in abundance, and he’s never had the focus for the latter after a round of the former.

He watches as she sways, draws her hand to her forehead and bats her lashes while her other trails up her thigh to the hem of the piece concealing her womanhood. She stops with a laugh, turns to the crowd with sparkling eyes and says, “You lot should not cheer! The Queen surely deserves better than a womanizing fool!”

König’s never been one for plays, how tactlessly they slander the royal family and make jest of current affairs. This troupe, though… he thinks it’s done in taste. Or maybe it’s just her.

Even as the aging performer with his weathered face and messy gray beard acting the part of his father rushes to the pretty thing on stage and paws at her waist, König can not tear his eyes away.

The scene reaches its end when the brothel is burned, enacting something horrible the king had done several springs ago. Bereaved, the woman returns to the stage and bares her breasts, monologuing so sweetly as she feigns tears for her fallen sisters.

König swears to be nothing like his father but he still finds his trousers fitting more tightly at the sight, not foul enough to touch himself here, if ever at all. His heart aches with each fragile word spilled from those plush lips, and his cock demands further engagement with each gentle sway of her body and heave of her round tits.

His sword slots back into place at his hip when the scene comes to an end: the crowd a storm of laughter, the fire of the torches illuminating the street flickering, the actors dissipate behind the wooden stage, and all at once the play is over.

Tactless and impulsive, he thinks to thank her for not furthering the set-up for a joke, looks the part of a proper fool when he makes his way backstage where she’s sat wiping away carmine from her cheeks. The actress’ eyes go wide and hazy when she catches sight of him towering over her, the cloth and mirror slipping from her hands to rest on the table.

Of course, she takes it as a warning, asks him if he would prefer they only act out the current affairs— the recent siege of the southern kingdom, maybe? Or a story about the harvest festival? The gods or beasts? Anything she can sputter out to the man she easily recognizes as being the Prince.

König only finds himself further endeared when she dips her head as if ashamed and moves to conceal the bare skin of her stomach as though it would be insulting to see her in such a state of undress.

He excitedly tells her about the siege, of how he slaughtered those treasonous men and so valiantly brought their women and children to the capital to live much more honest lives, boasting while she looks on in acute, wonderous horror. That’s what he chooses, even pulls his hood from his face and drops it into her lap when he tells her she has to play his part.

The actress explains to him, docile and sweet, that she’s never played a male role and certainly lacks the stature to accurately represent him of all people. To which, he laughs, bids her a farewell with a flick of his wrist and wanders back out into the cobblestone and muck to finish up his patrol of the city.

A fortnight later, she returns to the stage in hastily put on armors, his veil hanging proudly about her head, a wooden sword clasped tightly in her hands. The crowd watching laughs at her expense as she tries in earnest to perfect the way she imagined his sword must have danced during that siege. The male actors fall with each tap of the weapon’s tip, and her voice takes on a forced, deeper tone when she speaks her praises to the kingdom she’s pilfered glory for.

König only sees fire, not in the flames of torches but lain out before him, a heat that courses from the picture of this beautiful little doe on stage straight down to simmer in his chest, his stomach. She’s so cute, pretending and doing her best just to appease him that he finds himself backstage again once the play concludes.

It’s just to talk, to congratulate her on a wonderful performance. He even presents a hefty sack of gold coins to her when she returns his veil, and she marvels at the donation, takes each piece and turns it in her fingers for a time before setting the little bag on the table.

Her brow scrunches for a moment before she settles on offering her hand out to him, fingertips ghosting over his upper thigh, loitering on the armor shell protecting him and drifting further up until he takes her hand and interlocks their fingers. Surely then, the actress comes to realize that her prince is as pure as the sisters in their temples.

She breathes out a laugh and shakes her head.

“I mean to pleasure you, my Prince,” she says, less meek now and more insisting. Her hand draws back to remove the prop armor from her body, eyes never leaving his own.

Though he considers the woman’s offer heavily, pulse stampeding and heart aching, he does eventually will himself to voice a weak refusal.

Never does he keep himself holed away from her for long, even after; König returns for each play whilst his men go about patrolling the city for prowlers and thieves. He watches each performance and continuously seeks her out backstage after. They talk each time, with him offering his suggestions and her clamoring for excuses as to why, no, she isn’t fit to play his role for another fight or some drab court meeting.

Finally, the same song and dance proves too much.

This night, there is no play and König still finds himself in the room cluttered with set pieces and props. The other actors have gone about seeking their own affairs for the evening; bedsides to coax comfort from or mugs of ale and bowls of bone to drown themselves in whilst gambling away the coins the hungering crowd has thrown their way.

She sits with him, perched up on her little table wearing nothing at all. Her skin is lit aglow by candlelight, the incense burning bathing all in the welcoming, warm comfort of lavender and rosemary. There’s ash in his chest again when he finds himself at her side, already aching with a want that should not exist, one that he would deny in full with bared teeth and blurry vision.

Only, she doesn’t prompt him with questions when her palms splay flat at the chest of his tunic, just grins like a wolf given a fat leg of mutton when she feels him begin to tense. She assures him that she’s only teaching him to act after demanding that he kneel, catches his jaw atop her hand and guides his face between her thighs where he then pants and groans at the foreign, enticing scent.

It awakens something in him, something bathed out and buried in blood, the very same that courses through his veins like a violent river now. A feral look and an iron grip on her hips that would leave bruises is all she gets. All until she hisses out the words, “I am your princess and you will do as I ask.”

The first lick is hesitant, clumsy, his stubble grazed over her most sensitive parts as he slips his tongue across the smoothness of her slit. He doesn’t have an idea of what he’s doing, only enacting the vile things he’s heard men about the castle speak of, how to properly take a woman apart and push her to not only want, but to need.

Mostly, she’s unimpressed.

When he gathers her taste on his tongue, he becomes a man possessed, ripped away from duty and sovereignty and brought down to the lowness of mere swine. He groans into her cunt, laps and suckles at anything his tongue and lips can touch, savors the sight, dewy and swollen when he presses a kiss to the bud that finally does get her to purr.

“Sweet boy..,” she coos to him when her hands find his hair, petting him so gently as he continues to lap at her clit. “You’re taking such good care of your princess, yes?”

His mind blanks entirely, driven forward with a renewed, feverish vigor as he dismantles her wholly with a drooling mouth and an unrelenting stare. Rationality should have pulled him away before it ever got to this point; she’s a peasant, and he can’t run amok fathering bastards and condemning himself to Hell for a simple woman. But that’s all beaten back by her taste, the way she writhes in his hold, keeps whispering her praises and lacing those soft fingers through his hair… no amount of devils or men could pry him from her cunt.

Only she does when her voice comes in a pant and her grip tightens to pull him back. The table, his face, all sticky and wet with what must have been her very essence, drawn out by a man lacking experience but so unknowingly eager.

“Take off your clothes,” comes her next demand, one he obliges with a great hesitance.

The tunic is pulled away with shaking hands, the tie of his trousers next. He mutters a curse below his breath when his cock springs free, so erect and angry it looks painful. The tip drools just as much as that fluttering heaven between her legs, pearly beads of preejaculate leaking down to stain the fabric and further condemn him to this impromptu fate.

He jerks when she wraps her hand around him there, whines when she leans forward to kiss its head.

“I can’t…” His voice sounds weak to his own ears, pathetic and miserable as he makes a mock attempt at prying her away with a gentle press to her shoulder. “My princess… we should not.”

He’s almost certain she’s a devil herself sent to exact some punishment upon him when her lips curl up into a grin and she lies back with her knees drawn to her chest. She speaks such words to him then that he would not dare to ever repeat, songs only the unknown could sing. An angel, perhaps, when she slips a finger into herself to demonstrate to him just what should be done… there, with panting breaths and whispers of heaven.

And finally, when his cock throbs and kicks at the sight, all resolve is entirely lost. He positions himself over her where she guides the tip of his manhood to her slit, praises his size when his hips give an involuntary twitch and he slightly dips into her, sampling her warmth and the resistance from something so thick pressing into her.

His world crumbles at the sensation, cobblestone replaced by the raging heat of brimstone and an obscene lust that clouds his mind and leads him to spear her open to his hilt.

He finds holiness in their union, bites back a roar when her walls tremble around him. She only laughs when his teeth find her shoulder, only sings more hymns into his ear as he fucks into her cunt at a reckless, brutal pace. The words don’t register, far-away and distant amidst the roaring tide of sensation. She’s so tight, so wet and yearning, quivering beneath him and clawing down his back.

“We shouldn’t, hm?,” she whispers in his ear, teeth grazing the lobe. His strokes become even sloppier, each thrust stuttered and heady when the sound of her voice pulls through the haze of bliss. “My sweet boy is so good at this, though…”

His voice is nearly a wail when he loses himself fully then. He holds the back of her thighs, fucks himself through an orgasm that leaves his head spinning and his body shaking as though he’s come down with some wretched fever. And perhaps he is ill, because he can’t bring himself to think of anything more than the divine rapture of stuffing his seed into the warmth of her pussy, can’t bring himself to pull his cock out of her even when he begins to soften.

His face is buried against her neck, professing his endless love as he breathes her in and ruts into her over and over until his cock is once again stiffened and drooling inside of the very cunt he would die to keep.

Surely, when her troupe begins to pack to drift further out into the kingdom for their performances to be seen… he could accuse them of slander, have the old man playing the part of the lecherous king executed, the others thrown into rat-infested cells, and the little princess tethered to his bed to warm his heart and his cock.

He will kiss away her tears, tell her that all could be forgiven if she would only let him make an honest woman of her.

#könig x reader #tw: dubcon

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (7/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Having a movie night is a good way to spend the evening with your roommate. If it were not for the wine that loosens the mouth.

Warnings: TENSION, FLIRTING (you've been warned), alcohol consumption, a Charles picture (badly edited), Cars (movie)

Word Count: 3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I'm sitting here like a fourteen year old whose crush admitted to liking her. that's how I'm feeling about this chapter. feedback is appreciated!

"You're kidding me."

"I would never."

Charles sets his wine glass on the coffee table as you clutch yours, though there's not a sip left in it. "How have you made it through life so far?"

You shrug. Charles looks at you with a look like you kicked a dog and insulted his mother. "I never got around to it."

That's only half the truth. Since you moved out of your parents' house, you'd actually had plenty of time to catch up on that sort of thing. But at some point you had decided for yourself that it was too late to get into it in your early twenties, when you should theoretically be out of it.

Apparently Charles doesn't see it that way. He reaches for the remote control and presses a few buttons until first a castle and then a bouncing lamp appear on the television in front of you. He then presses the stop button and turns back to you. "Get comfortable, because you're not getting off this couch again until we're done here." He places the bowl of popcorn between you on the couch. "And if you fall asleep, you'll have to watch the movie again."

You pour yourself some more wine and take a big gulp. As some of it runs out of the corner of your mouth, you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "Aren't we too old for this?"

Charles raises an eyebrow before pressing the play button. The screen goes black and you hear someone take a deep breath in and out before an off-screen voice says okay, here we go. focus. The grin on your roommate's face grows so wide it almost touches an ear. Speed. I am speed.

"You're never too old for Cars."

Apparently Charles not only works in the car industry, but is obsessed with cars. And even more so with this film. 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see that he is silently moving his mouth to speak along with every single character while you sit next to it, eating popcorn and drinking your wine. 

The beginning of the film doesn't particularly captivate you. An arrogant car with no team spirit as the protagonist. For sure he would make friends in the course of the film and appreciate them and then he wins his race. Very predictable. Even for a children's film. 

All you have to do now is stand there and let me look at you, Lightning McQueen says to the Porsche and you cringe.

"Wow, that's hardly bearable." You put a piece of popcorn between your teeth and wash it down with a gulp of wine. 

Charles, who has slid down a little further on the couch, looks at you. "Lightning or the whole movie?" He reaches for his glass on the table. 

You spread your index finger from the glass and point it at the screen. "Lightning. That was so slimy. Like anyone would fall for that." As Sally embarrasses the hell out of the red speedster, you thrust your fist into the air enthusiastically. 

Charles laughs. "So you're not into that sort of thing to seduce you?" He sips his wine, you shake your head. He props himself up on the seat with one elbow, resting his head in his hand, and stretches his legs out in your direction so that he's almost completely on the couch. He dangles the wine glass casually in his free hand. The film pauses. "How else can you be seduced?"

If you hadn't caught the phone call this lunchtime and the conversation with Joris, both of which involved a woman, you might think that Charles is flirting with you. That maybe he sees more in you than his roommate and friend. And if your ex-boyfriend hadn't spoiled your mood before - or generally not crossed your life - you'd go for it, too. 

You glance at Charles. He has taken off his jumper sometime after the second glass of wine and thrown it towards the dining table chair, so that he is lying next to you in his shirt. The strands of his hair stand on end after running his hand through them several times and his cheeks are slightly flushed. His green and otherwise alert eyes seem a little misty, almost certainly due to the alcohol. 

And his smile. God, his smile is so crooked and beautiful and his dimples give him something childishly cheeky that makes your heart beat a beat faster. 

Is he cute?, you hear Vicky's voice in the back of your mind. 

Damn cute, even. 

'Definitely not like that,' you finally answer his question, lowering your gaze towards your wine glass. If your mind is already drifting like this, maybe you should stop drinking. 

"How then?", Charles asks, his eyes fixed on you. 

Unsure, you look at him. "Why do you want to know?" Inwardly, you command your heart to give it a rest. Just because he asks doesn't mean he needs the knowledge for himself.

"Well, maybe one day a guy will come along who doesn't know how to approach you. And then I can give him a hint, if you want," he explains with a shrug, before taking a big sip of his wine and emptying his glass. 

You try not to let on how much his answer hits you. Somehow you hoped he would want to know that for himself, in case he decided to approach you at some point. But apparently you haven't been listening to Charles properly for the last few hours. 

That's what friends are for, after all. 

You're my friend. 

For not being a good friend to you. 

And friends who live together fight in between. 

Inwardly you slap your forehead with your palm. The wine is definitely to blame for your thoughts. 

"When you remember little things," you finally answer Charles' question and set your glass down on the table, which Charles seems to take as an invitation to top up, and before you can do anything about it he has refilled your glass. 

"Little things?" Charles lies back in his comfortable position and eyes you. 

You nod. "Yes. Like the fact that I think peonies are much prettier than roses, or that I prefer muffins to cupcakes. Little things like that, that define me." You shrug. "It just shows that the person has been paying attention and cared about me."

Charles nods, and you think he glances briefly at your almost empty wine bottle before reaching for the remote again. "Good to know."

The film continues and you decide that little blue Guido is your favourite character. As Lightning McQueen pulls yellow Betsy across the road and chats to Luigi and Guido, you raise your eyebrows in surprise. 

"Kind of strange to hear Formula One mentioned."

You notice Charles stiffen beside you, but his gaze remains forward. "Why?"

You reach - despite your brain vehemently telling you not to - for your glass. "Well, it's an animated film and the fact that Formula One is mentioned makes it kind of real. Although it's not. You know what I mean?"

"Do you watch Formula One, then?" asks Charles a counter-question, without answering yours. By now he is looking at you, but you can't interpret the expression on his face.

As you shake your head, he seems to relax a little. For whatever reason. "No. I used to watch it with my grandfather. Back when Michael Schumacher drove for Ferrari. We watched every race and cheered for the red team." You take a sip. "I lost sight of it at some point."

"Do you think you'd still be a Ferrari fan now if you'd stuck with it?" your roommate asks. Why he's so interested in it, you don't know. 

You point to the two Ferrari fans from Cars and smile. "Isn't everyone a Ferrari fan somehow? Even if they're not?" You turn back to the film and continue sipping your wine. 

Which is definitely not the best idea, because it seems to cloud your thoughts and loosen your mouth, because when Lightning decides to help Radiator Springs, it just bursts out of you. "Lightning is hot."

Charles, who has just taken a sip, chokes and nearly coughs his guts out. When he has calmed down, he looks at you, distraught. "Excuse me?"

"Yeeeees." You turn a little in his direction and pull your legs to your chest. You're sitting opposite each other now, except that Charles is lying down. "Not so 'wow, I'd like to fuck him'-hot. But his vibe makes him hot."

Charles wiggles his eyebrows. "I was once told I looked like him."

You have to laugh out loud, and you reach into the popcorn bowl once and throw it at him, laughing. He's not that quick to open his mouth to catch the pieces, but he gathers them up off his shirt and puts them between his teeth, grinning. 

"Why are you laughing like that? Someone actually said that once! Don't you believe me?"

You realise that the wine has gone to your head, because you can hardly stop laughing. You can hardly breathe and tears spring to your eyes, which you wipe away with the hem of your jumper. Your stomach hurts and you force yourself to breathe in and out deeply. "No, I believe you. But Lightning is just hot, and you're cute. There's a difference between the two."

Your sober self, which is napping somewhere deep in your brain, startles from its slumber and would love to slap you for it. 

Charles cheeks turn even redder and somehow the hem of his shirt seems very interesting because he rubs it between his thumb and forefinger before looking at you. "So you think I'm cute?"

This time he is quicker and catches the piece of popcorn you throw in his direction with his mouth and chews on it with relish. "Oh, come on. I'm definitely not the first one to say that to you," you try to somehow talk your way out of it. "I'm probably just the first to say that without flirting with you. My statement is to be considered purely objective."

"Objective, then?" He sits up a little straighter. "What would it look like if you were flirting?"

You put your wine glass down on the table and decide to actually let it go for today. You've definitely said too much, which you'd almost certainly regret tomorrow, and just thinking about how weird things might get in the morning makes your blood rush to your ears. So you reach for the popcorn. "I'm not doing that to you."

Your roommate raises an eyebrow in confusion. "Why? Are you that bad?" he quips.

You shake your head playfully. "On the contrary. I'm so good at it, you'd fall in love with me instantly," you joke, and have to grin, but Charles doesn't return it. 

"Don't worry," he replies without taking his eyes off you. "It takes more than that to make me fall head over heels in love with someone."

You'd love to ask what exactly it takes, but why should you care? You're friends, he's made that clear. And you should definitely get it through your head. In your drunken estimation, the line of friendship you're walking right now is clearly too narrow for your liking. 

You purse your lips and watch the film in silence. The mood has changed, no longer as easy-going as it was a few minutes ago. You would like to say something, but you don't know what, so you sit still. 

When you reach the point in the film where Lightning pushes the King across the finish line - against your expectations - to finish third in the Piston Cup, you can't stop the sob that leaves your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye you see Charles looking at you. And then all the dams break.

"How can a film about cars - about cars, Charles - make me cry like this?" You wipe away your tears. "This isn't normal. What's the point? It's a movie for kids, for fuck's sake."

Charles' smile is gentle. "No swear words, please. The film is my favourite."

"The film is first class." You try to breathe but hiccup as a result and Charles has to laugh slightly. "Oh, shit. Do kids even understand how important the message is? That it doesn't matter if you win or not as long as you do the right thing and have your friends around you?" 

"There are two more parts, by the way. We can watch those too if you like," Charles suggests and he looks a little offended when you shake your head and get up from the couch. 

"Let me process this movie first and then we'll see." You grab the empty wine bottles and glasses to take them to the kitchen. Charles grabs the bowls and you put the dishes in the sink. Neither of you would manage to wash them properly yet and with a single glance you silently agree to clean up the rest of the living room in the morning. 

You go together to the bathroom where you get ready for bed. You are brushing your teeth when your gaze catches his in the mirror. You smile at him. "But I would love to watch the films with you. I had a lovely evening, if that wasn't clear." You spit some excess foam into the sink. "Thank you for that."

Charles sticks his thumb in the air and washes his mouth out before answering you. "Anytime." He places his toothbrush in his cup. "I haven't had this much fun watching a movie in ages." As he looks at you, his gaze goes through your skin and bones. "Thank you for forgiving me. I couldn't bear it if you were angry with me."

As he combs his hair with a brush - yours - you rinse out your mouth as well. It's so mundane the way the two of you get ready for bed next to each other, as if you've grown up together and not as if you've only known each other for exactly one day. This familiarity between you should feel strange, but you have to admit yourself that nothing has ever felt better. 

"I don't think I can stay mad at you for long." You tie your hair into a braided pigtail, which takes a little longer than usual because of the wine. "I like you far too much for that."

You don't wait for his answer, but leave the bathroom, grabbing your camera and phone for a moment. "Do you have your AirDrop on?" you ask him. "So I can send you the photo."

"Oh, yeah. Hang on a sec." He rummages around among the cushions on the couch for a moment until he pulls out his phone and taps away on it. You look at your screen, and see "CL iPhone" flashing up. You press his name and the picture your camera automatically sent to the phone app is now sent to Charles. He looks at it for a moment. "I look so good."

"Don't get too carried away," you laugh and move towards the bedroom door while Charles gets his bedding from the wardrobe in the hall. You watch him for a moment as he gets his things ready. "Good night, Lightning."

His smile is so gentle you could melt. "Good night."

After closing the bedroom door behind you, you slip into your sleeping clothes and climb under your duvet. With your phone in your hand, you lie down on your side. You release the key lock and Charles' picture appears. 

He is right. He does look good in it. 

Just as you are about to plug your phone into the charger and put it away, a message pops up on the screen. 

CL iPhone would like to share a photo

Surprised, you click on "Accept". 

You giggle and think about sending a picture back, but don't. "You can sleep in your bed tomorrow," you shout across the flat and receive a "Thank you!"

Grinning, you snuggle into your pillow and force yourself not to stare at the picture he just sent you. It's almost cheeky how he can still look so good after such a long day and a bottle of wine. 

You put your phone next to your pillow and turn onto your back. To cope with this situation, you have to draw clearer lines. And lock away the thoughts that are running around in your head in between. 

You have a crazy ex. And there's something going on with Charles too, although you don't know what exactly. It definitely wouldn't be the right time for either of you to develop feelings for someone. And as often as he's referred to you as his friend, you want to spare yourself the shame of falling for someone who doesn't want you. 

You put your forearms over your face. 

You have known each other for twenty-four hours. How can someone be so etched in your mind after such a short time? 

You blame your emotional state on the wine, close your eyes and try to think of something else. Of cute penguins, puppies, sheep. But the thoughts circle and circle and always find their way back, as if they only know this way. 

Always back to Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.

next part

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #carlos sainz jr #charles leclerc one shot #f1 #Charles Leclerc fanfiction #Charles Leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

[neil-gaiman]

Dear Mr. Gaiman,

I’ve been meaning to write to you for a bit and today -  May 1st - is a prefect bit of timing.

I’d like to address 2 1/2 things if I may: You recently posted a conversation you had about losing a cat and how much the death of a pet hits you. My spouse and I have and have had a number of pets - best friends really - pass away. One of the ways we have come to deal with their moving on is to make up a story.

(To be honest, yet another story. Our friends live very full lives, indeed.) Our Tuxedo cat, Tybalt, is now playing bass in a Journey cover band that tours. I travel a lot for work and that allows “Tybalt” to send us postcards telling of his latest adventures. Since today is May Day and the expiration of the Writer’s contract I wanted to say bravo to you for posting about it and the subtles of the issues at hand. Most people looking at Hollywood will not give carful consideration to what is at hand.

Since you have the currency of a celebrity that is thoughtful and nuanced your voice carries over much of the rhetoric. I thank you for that. I should say at this point that I also work in film and television and have for most of the last 30 years. I am a grip and enjoy the craft of my job.

While the concerns of your Guild are valid and should be addressed i would like to point out that your voice and those of your colleagues are heard. All the national pages and news outlets are carrying the story. As they should. In 2021, IATSE (the union the covers all the below the line craft people in the United Staes and Canada with approximately a 150,000 members) was set to renew our contact that August. Our asks for that contract were minimal and most of us assumed the contract would be updated with little haggling. The producers balked. They, in fact, wanted to get rid of a number of long held points in our contract. This went on for four months. Something that never happed in my 30 years of work. I won’t go into all the details. I assume that you have a passing familiarity with the issues.

My point to all of this is that our voice was never heard. All the news outlets merely interviewed the producers and only gave their side of the story. And this happens every time the is a contract or safety issue (Think “Rust”. Reporters never interviewed other armors. The closest that came to a below the line voice was an essay written by a Prop Master - who happens to be Martin Scorsese’s daughter.)

Most producers have little idea of what it takes to make a show. But they are the only ones who are quoted. Overlapping during these 4 months was the John Deere strike (with just over 10,000 members).  And good for them. 

It should be noted that their coverage was far greater than ours.

There are 7 stories about the John Deere strike in the New York Times morgue. There are none for the IATSE contract negotiations. I can go on but I feel I should wrap this up. If you’ve read this far, I thank you.

I have an ask for you. The half of my 2 1/2 things to say. When the IATSE contract comes up for re-negotiation next year, would you please put a posting on your social media sites about it? 

The same as you have done for your Guild? It would give us a voice we have not had before. Thank You, Spider Goat P.S. Also thank you for all the wonderful stories you've written. I do so love visiting the worlds you've created.

I was pushing IATSE on Social Media last time -- for example

and pushing things like the @ia_stories Instagram link -

I will do it again. And I was disappointed by the outcome of the negotiations last time, too.

#IATSE

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Video Games Part 11

Alien: So what is this one about? Human: Vampires in the wild west. Alien: Sounds interesting. Human: You’d think so, but when the main characters are as animated as the undead monsters they fight it’s pretty hard to take them seriously. Alien: From your own admission they are fighting vampire cowboys…..how serious were you expecting it to be? Human: ……. Touché. ---------------------

Alien: What is “The Quarry”? Human: Murder porn and sadness. Alien: ……………… ------------------------

Alien: “Boltgun”? Human: A man too angry to die because of what a sassy bitch he is. Alien: How does being sassy make you avoid death? Human: Because even death is afraid of being mocked so hard. ---------------------

Alien: Why would anyone want to play an aquatic predator? Human: You ever just look at someone and wonder what they’d taste like? Alien: I believe that is called cannibalism. Human: Not unless you’re a giant fish. ---------------------

Alien: Why does the tiny creature have a machine gun? Human: To stop you from eating it. Alien: Most effective. ---------------------

Alien: I heard this one is a popular game. Human: Eh, I guess. Alien: What do you mean “eh”? Alien: There have been five of them made. Human: It’s mostly made for people that like to watch a slow mo shot of a bullet going through a man’s balls over and over. Alien: What sadistic beings are you?!? Human: You should let me tell you about Meat Boy sometime for more context. ---------------------

Alien: This one looks cute. Alien: It’s about a brother in sister in your primitive era. Human: And a shit load of rats. Alien: What? Human: Yeah, you can make the rats devour a man whole as he screams and begs for his life. Alien: I…..but…..just….why? ----------------------

Alien: Why on florps name would someone want to play a game about manual labor? Alien: is not the point of your entertainment games to seek enjoyment? Human: Some people feel pleasure from a job well done. Alien: That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Human: Didn’t your people worship a rock a couple centuries back because when the light hit it the thing sparkled? Alien: ………touché. -------------------------

Alien: I wish to escape this bunker. Human: You just need to find some dynamite and a plunger to trigger it. Alien: Sounds easy enough. Human: And avoid the ancient giant rat god stalking the halls of the bunker. Alien: What is with your people and rats?!!?!?!? ----------------------

Alien: What is this “Crackdown 3” about? Human: A cops fantasy about how they view themselves. Alien: How so? Human: They see themselves fighting crime when more often they help prop up a totalitarian regime. Alien: Did not the second one have monsters in it? Human: That’s how they see poor people. Alien: Holy gargle…..that’s messed up. --------------------

Alien: What is this one? Human: Designing overly elaborate death machines to murder guys in metal suits with swords. Alien: Is that not what we did to your people during the third age of your species? Human: Come again? ------------------

Alien: Is this game about zombies? Human: More a social experiment. Alien: How so? Human: It has no set rules or goal in a zombie apocalypse, but more often you find people choosing the worst things to do to each other for shits and giggles. Alien: It can’t be all that bad. Human: I watched a group of high level players capture a new player, strip them of their gear, and force them to drink bleach under pain of death for a meme. Alien: ……………….. ----------------------

Human: How’s the new game goin- Alien: *Grabs human friend and sprays them with foam Alien: Good…you’re not one of them. Human: spits out foam One of what? Alien: A shape shifter! Alien: They were everywhere on the station and that made me wonder if those bastards are here in the home as well! Human: Wouldn’t say they’re all bastards. Table: Yeah, some of us are actually nice fellows. *Alien and Human both scream*

#humans are space oddities #humans are insane #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #scifi #funny #niqhtlord01 #video games

[crownofgildedlilies]

SUNNIEEEE number 14 for the summer prompt with leo... like i feel its SO in character (when they wear tank-tops while doing manly labor and you're just there admiring the sight) LITERALLY HIMMM imagine him adding cute mods (is that the term???) or smth to ur car and ur just sitting on a stool and kicking ur feet

leo my one true love (jason and percy don’t LOOK) also let's pretend I know things about cars :)

based on this post opening requests for blurbs with certain prompts!

mr. do it all!

pairing: leo valdez x greek demigod!reader

"Almost done?"

"Baby, I just started."

"Fine," You huffed. You weren't exactly sure why you were complaining. Leo was fixing the reason why your check engine light was on, for free, the summer sun was warm against your skin, and you were treated to the sight of your boyfriend in a tank top while he worked.

Really, you should have just been happy to sit back in watch. You didn't exactly want to admit that you might have been jealous that a car was getting all of his attention.

"Soon as I'm done, I'm all yours, pretty." Leo called out, inspecting the engine of your car with the hood open, his back to you. Trying not to flush at the nickname, you blew a puff of air past your lips before retreating to the swivel chair you had dragged out of Leo's office at the auto shop to watch him work in the front yard.

"Is it really important that you fix this right now?" You questioned, propping your elbow on the arm of the chair, chin in your palm as you watched.

"And have my baby break down on the side of the road?" Leo asked, aghast, breaking his focus long enough to shook you a look of disbelief that had you grinning. "What kind of self-respecting super mechanic smoking hot and incredibly funny boyfriend would I be then?"

"Your title gets longer each time," You snorted, shaking your head and definitely not disagreeing. Leo was nothing if not doting to you. "I want a kiss when you're done."

"Absolutely," He mock saluted, grinning crookedly before launching headfirst back into the engine of your car.

You knew that you could simply leave and go find something to entertain yourself with inside the shop, but you couldn't get yourself to move away from Leo while her worked, the sight warming something in your chest.

He teased you more than his fair share of times as he labored, grinning and winking from his spot by the car. At first, you were embarrassed at being caught out, but by the end you didn't have it in you to care.

Especially as he rested his hands on each arm of your chair to lean in for the kiss you had requested.

"Enjoy the show, princesa?" He teased, bumping his nose against yours as you scrunched your face in protest. "Your car is set and your handsome boyfriend is paying attention to you."

Your fingers knotted in the front of his tank top, pulling him closer with the fabric as you slotted your lips over his for a quick and hard earned kiss.

"Can you fix my air conditioner, next?"

#leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez fic #Leo Valdez x you #Leo Valdez blurb #rays of sun

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | shelter

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

note: this can be read as part two of survive

words: 2.4k

warnings: 18+. please do not continue if you're uncomfortable with discussions surrounding rape/sexual assault, violence, blood, and cannibalism. spoilers.

synopsis: after the events of episode eight in which reader takes ellie's place as david's hostage, joel finds a cabin where he can take care of you in the middle of the woods. hurt, comfort, and fluff ensues. reader x joel, reader x ellie, and joel x ellie interactions, but mostly joel cleaning you up after a horrific experience.

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld @m4tthewmurd0ck

It feels like you’re walking for miles before you find the abandoned, dusty cabin in the middle of the woods.

Your teeth chatter as Joel leads you inside, Ellie following behind. The smell is stale and it isn’t much warmer, but you’re out of the snow and that’s enough for now. When you see snow, you see blood, too. 

“Alright, here we go,” Joel says, propping his gun against a ratty couch and looking around. 

Ellie shuts the door on the howling wind, raising her brows. “Not bad.”

“Let’s see if we can find anything to clean up with.” Joel begins searching the small cupboards above a sink still stacked with plates. 

You don’t know what to do, don’t know how to think about anything but the blood in your hair. His blood. You need it off you, need to rid yourself of any hint that he ever existed, ever hurt you. Absently, you scratch your arms and wander over to the fireplace. Charred tinder and ash sit in the hearth, and beside it, a pile of logs have been stacked haphazardly. You throw a couple in and shrug off your backpack, your fingers trembling as you find a lighter. Anything to help you feel something other than this yawning emptiness, this black hole, this disgust and this fear. 

“Fuck, yeah!” Ellie exclaims, yanking her gloves off and warming her hands. You offer a wry smile, perching on the closest couch and trying to focus on the orange glow. 

But then you think of the candles in the restaurant. The way you set David alight with them. The stench of burning clothes and hair as you walked away. 

You close your eyes, your fingers curling so tightly into your palms that they leave marks behind. 

“Hey,” Ellie says softly, kneeling in front of you. “You’re safe now, y’know?”

“I know, kiddo.” You put on a brave face for her benefit, though she’s smart enough to know you’re not okay. “Thanks.”

“What did… What did he do to you?” 

Before you can answer, Joel’s stern voice echoes around the cabin. “Ellie, go see what you can find. There should be a bathroom, washcloths, somethin’.”

Sighing, Ellie offers you a kind expression, which you return, and then she disappears into the next room. 

You cast Joel an impatient look. “You don’t have to do that.” You push off the couch and wander over to him. “How’s your wound? Any pain?”

His jaw ticks, and he shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“You need to rest.” It was hard to believe he was still standing at all, and you hadn’t missed his bloody knuckles. You wonder what he’d done, who he’d beat just to get to you. James, maybe, and the men David threatened would find them. It’s a miracle any of you are here. 

“You need to drink.” Joel pulls a bottle of water from his pack and hands it to you, watching you carefully like he’s just waiting for you to break. “I’ll go hunting first thing tomorrow. Get you some food.”

You think of the ear in the kitchen, the meat on the plate David offered you, and your stomach turns. Using the counter for support, you take a steady breath. 

“Baby…” Joel is there in an instant, his hand caressing the small of your back. 

“I’m okay,” you lie. 

He hesitates a moment. “Did he…?”

You know what he’s asking. Did he rape you? “No. No. He tried.” A wave of anguish rolls up in you, so thick in your throat that you feel like you might throw up again. “I slaughtered him, Joel. I… I couldn’t stop. There was so much blood.”

Joel’s nostrils flare with suppressed anger, but he pulls you closer, smoothing down your matted, tangled hair. “He deserved it.” 

“I didn’t think I was getting out of there,” you admit, voice cracking with tears. 

“You did, darlin’.” He sighs, wrapping his arms around you. “You got out. I've got you now. You’re safe.”

You’ve never accepted comfort so readily before, always desperate to prove to Joel that you can be just as strong as him, that you can carry his burdens as well as your own. But you’re losing your grip tonight; on yourself and on everything that you know. Something has changed in you after seeing the monstrosities that men like David can commit. It’s like he’s poisoned you, and you can feel it creeping beneath your skin. 

Ellie reappears from the other room, waving a bottle of what looks to be shampoo in her hand. “The bathroom’s well-stocked. And I’m calling dibs on the bed, by the way.”

“Like hell you are,” Joel grumbles, giving you a final squeeze before urging you forward. “C’mon. We’ll clean you up now.”

***

You look in the grimy mirror and don’t recognise yourself. Blood is splattered all over your face, clothes, hair. Your wrists are blistered, angry red welts covering your skin where you tried to wriggle out of your rope ties. 

Joel has sent Ellie back into the other room to warm up more water, and you’re glad for that. 

“You mind if I check that cut on the back of your head first?” Joel asks gently. 

You shake your head, watching his reflection as he moves behind you and separates through your hair to see your injury. You don’t remember how you got it now. You were knocked out by James, but David gave you a beating too before you…

You give a sharp intake of breath as the memories flood back again, and Joel pulls away quickly. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No. You didn’t.” You swallow. “I was just… remembering.” 

Understanding crosses his features. “Sit down,” he offers, as though he knows that you can’t bear to be haunted by your reflection for a moment longer. You do, perching on the edge of the bath. He goes back to checking your injury. 

“It’s not too deep,” he murmurs, his touch feather-light. “Should be okay once we get it clean. ‘S it hurt a lot?”

“No.” Nothing hurts, though you know it should. You can barely focus on anything but the aching heaviness in your chest, the unease in your stomach, the thought that you’ll have to live with this now. Knowing that the world is even more broken than you thought, and it almost killed you. 

“Gonna clean your face first. That okay?”

You nod, and he rolls up his sleeves as he kneels in front of you, wringing out a washcloth in the sink of water he’d warmed by the fire. You want to tell him you can do it yourself, but you can’t. You don’t want to be left alone in this bathroom. You don’t want to watch the blood drip into the water. You don’t want Joel to leave you when you thought you’d lost him for good not too long ago. 

Carefully, he runs his thumb over the bruise on your cheek. “I should'a got there quicker.”

“You were a little busy trying not to die,” you remind him. You take his hand, finally allowing yourself to acknowledge his bruised and bloody knuckles. “They came for you, too?”

He grimaces, pulling away as though ashamed. “Don’t you worry about that. I took care of it.” 

“You always do,” you say, throat feeling raw. “You always take care of us.”

He softens, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You took care of yourself just fine today, baby You shouldn’t have had to, and I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

“Stop saying that. Please.” Tears slip down your cheeks. “It isn’t your fault. Please don’t make this your burden, Joel. This one… this is all mine, and I’ll gladly take it if it means you and Ellie’re okay.”

“We ain’t okay if you’re not.” He wipes your tears away. “I thought… I thought I’d lost you.” Now it’s his voice that fractures, and it leaves you sinking with pain. His pain and your own. “I was so scared. Could barely breathe. I’m never letting that happen again, you hear?”

You can only dip your head as you choke on a sob, wishing you could be stronger. Wishing all of this was easier. 

Joel begins dabbing your face with the washcloth, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You close your eyes when you see it come away red, trying to focus on the water lapping in the sink when he rinses it and squeezes it out. 

“That’s it, baby girl. Close your eyes. Let me take care of it.” 

You do, and his touch keeps you grounded, keeps you from slipping back into that cage, or worse, back into David’s arms. For a moment, you’re not in an abandoned cabin, twenty years into a pandemic. For a moment, you’re home, letting the man you love take care of you without guns or threat; with only a washcloth and a tender hand. 

He’s careful against your bruise, and he doesn’t leave any spot unclean; your jaw, your neck, behind your ears. 

“Almost done,” he promises, but you wouldn’t mind if it took all night. 

He lets the water swirl down the drain when he’s done, and Ellie comes in soon after with another heated pan. 

“Thanks, kiddo,” you say, blinking the droplets from your eyelashes. 

“Is there anything else I can do to help?”

Joel gives her a warm smile and squeezes her shoulder. “We got it covered. Go get the couch ready. You know, since you’re sleeping there tonight.”

She groans in a very teenagerly way, trudging out of the bathroom as though she hasn’t spent many a night on forest floors. You can’t help but let out a small laugh, and Joel smirks at the sound.

“Pain in the ass," he comments with more adoration than annoyance.

“You love her and you know it.”

He only hums, grabbing a cup. “Lean your head back for me.”

You do, feeling renewed when the water trickles down your scalp and into the dirty bathtub. It reminds you of being a kid again, not yet old enough to wash your own hair. Somehow, the nostalgia leaves you emotional, and you’re trying not to cry again. 

“Hey, hey,” Joel says, putting the cup down. When you sob, he breathes, “I know. I know. C’mere.”

He pulls you into his chest without caring about how you dampen his shirt, and you clutch onto him as the grief, the terror, all rush through you. You can’t control it. It’s been pent up for too long, and this is your last straw. The thing that has pushed you over the rocky edge. 

Joel only whispers again and again: “I know. You’re okay, baby. I got you.”

***

Later, after you have stopped crying for long enough to let Joel shampoo your hair and the fire has died to embers you can’t risk rekindling, you crawl into your sleeping bed on top of the double mattress that Ellie so desperately wanted to sleep in. You smell like strawberries, and your skin is brand new, having scrubbed it top to bottom once Joel left the bathroom. You’re wearing one of the shirts he picked up at Bill and Frank’s over your own sweater, and it carries his musk, his warmth. 

Joel is looking out of the windows. After so much danger, you know it’s hard for him to settle. To believe that you might just be okay for one night.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” The room is dark, but you see him glance your way, eyes shiny in the moonlight. 

“Come to bed. Please.”

His brows furrow, and he sits on the mattress slowly. “I can take the floor if you don’t want—”

“I do. I do want.”

“You don’t think I should keep watch?”

“I think we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere. Only things that’ll be bothering us here are the birds and the deer.” You regret bringing that up as soon as it leaves your mouth. You think of the deer you hunted, the thing that brought you to David, and stiffen. 

Joel must sense it, because he slouches in resignation and kicks off his boots. “Okay. Just for a little bit.”

You scooch over in your sleeping bag in the hopes he’ll understand what you need. 

He does. He slips in, holding an arm out so you can curl into him, so you do. His chest is warm, breaths steady, and if you can just stay like this for a while, maybe you’ll be okay again. 

“Sleep, darlin’,” he whispers into your hair. “I’ll be right here.”

“Do you think we’ll make it through this in the end?” you wonder aloud. “Ellie, the cure… if we make it out alive, if all this turns out to be worth it, what will we do afterwards? Where will it leave us? We can’t go back to Boston.”

“We don’t have to worry about that now.” He strokes your arm, and goosebumps rise on your skin. 

“I need something to hold onto, Joel,” you admit. “I need to imagine it won’t always be this bad.”

Moments pass, the silence a cold, unwelcome blanket across you. But then Joel folds it away. “When this is over, we’ll go back to Jackson. You, me, and Ellie. We’ll get us a real house, live a boring life with Tommy. Go watch movies and yell at Ellie for being a little shit.”

You snort at that, and her voice echoes from the front room: “I can hear you!” 

“Go to sleep!” Joel yells back. 

“I would if I wasn’t lying on an old uncomfortable couch with the fucking fleas!” 

You roll your eyes, rubbing his chest lovingly. “Just get in here and stop complaining!”

“Seriously?” he murmurs, though there is no surprise there; only something warm, amused. If you can find that after a day like today, you can find it anywhere, you think. 

Before you can reply, Ellie’s hopeful face appears in the shadows. She clutches her sleeping bag, a cheeky grin on her face. “Shift over, old man.”

Joel glares, but he pulls you closer so that Ellie can lie on the other side of you. You wrinkle your nose as she jumps onto the bed, kicking herself into her sleeping bag with little grace. He huffs and puffs, murmuring into your ear, “Regret it yet?”

“No,” you say, and you’re not just talking about the offer for Ellie to join you anymore. You pull her into you so that you’re sandwiched by the two people you love most in the world, and finally, with Joel’s warmth at your back and Ellie’s ponytail in your face, you feel safe. 

Joel’s fingers trail up and down your spine as Ellie settles, and they stay there as you slowly fall asleep. 

If this is what Joel’s boring life will be like, you’re ready for Jackson. You’re ready to go home with your family.

#joel miller fic #joel miller imagines #joel imagine #joel #joel miller #joel tlou #ellie x joel #joel and ellie #last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #tlou #the last of us #joel miller oneshot #pedro pascal #the last of us fic #hbo the last of us #joel the last of us #the last of us show #hbo tlou #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou show #tlou fic

[shirefantasies]

Heyyy i just wanna say that I LOVE your writing. Its so so comforting 🫶🫶🫶

Can I request a story/headcanon about how Thorins company/ specifically Kíli would react if (fem) reader got her hair braided by her (non dwarf) friend, and it was just a friendly thing, but the dwarves thought it was a courting braid?

Pairing Fem!Reader x Kíli

Thank youu🫶💗

Omg thanks! Comfort writing is a big honor 🥹

Mission of Misunderstanding- Kili x F!Human!Reader

Shout-out to my girlies in the unbraidable hair community lmao 🤝 Warnings: one minor swear lol, a couple suggestive remarks

One more step and your feet were going to fall off. Surrendering to the burn, you all but fell down onto the log, tilting your feet so only your heels rested upon the earth. A sigh escaped your lips and you didn’t even move when the rustling sounded at your back.

A familiar voice spoke your name. Bilbo. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yes, my friend,” you breathed, “so long as you don’t count anything below the knee. Or my hair. Can’t imagine how much dirt and leaves have gotten in it after all that.”

"Well, yes," Bilbo chided, ever the little mother-hen, "you've got to keep it back. Why don't I braid it for you?"

Your heart burst, and not from exertion this time. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course," the hobbit shrugged, "haven't had much practice of it of late, but certainly I can give it a go for you. I understand. I wouldn't want the mess either. Come here."

Thanking him again, you scooted closer to where Bilbo stood, gritting your teeth for the pain of him detangling your hair, only to relax at the gentle touch of his nimble fingers. Eyelids fluttering shut in contentment, you sat as Bilbo worked his magic neatening your hair up and making fresh braids of it for you. Feet still elevated and aching, but less so the longer you sat off of them. When the hobbit pulled back with a quiet, still-focused finished, your first instinct was to reach up around your head, touching the new set of braids with a widening smile.

"And now it shall be free of my face! Truly, thank you, Bilbo!" Pulling him into a quick hug, you vowed to repay him somehow with a teasing final statement. "Since I doubt you want me to braid yours."

"That is quite alright, thank you," he chuckled, "let's head back to camp before Bombur chases us down, eh?”

Camp was nearby, and still sparsely populated as you approached it. Bofur and Bombur were there building a fire, and Thorin stood a ways aside having a conversation with Balin. Dwalin and Gloin sat playing a game with a rock as their table, and Ori sat knitting. The others, you presumed, were hunting, saddling ponies, or else getting attention from Oin. Thinking nothing of it you sat down again, this time near Dwalin and Gloin, asking who was winning and if they were taking bets just to laugh at their responses. Bilbo helped Bofur and Bombur get set up for dinner a few feet off, propping up sticks strong enough to hold the cooking pot.

Sure enough, the rest of the company began trickling in, Oin, Bifur, and Nori first, the latter two with poultices and bandages. You winced. Perhaps you should complain less about your feet. Next up came Dori and Fili, who each carried one half of a felled deer, shot clearly with one of Kili's arrows. The younger prince had a bag in hand, likely having won whatever silly game determined who got the lightest load. Smiling and meeting his eyes, you gave a quick wave, indicating your amusement at the game behind you with your eyes.

Kili smiled back and waved, then swiveled his head away and back again in a double-take. You found yourself frowning as he averted his gaze to help his brother, blinking as you wondered what that was about. All you'd done was say hello. Not even say, really. Did he think you were making fun of the others?

Perhaps it was nothing, but considering your feelings for the prince, it was everything in your mind. Cycling ideas began overtaking your brain like mist. Had he suspected malice of your joke? Had he simply heard something? Why had his expression shifted so? Maybe he was just worried by what he heard.

~

"What did I miss while we were gone?"

At Kili's words, Dwalin simply frowned, peering at him like he'd thoroughly lost his marbles. "What do ya mean, lad?"

"Did...did anything happen?"

"Took Gloin for a right fool on the card table," the older dwarf replied with a smug look, chest puffing and shoulders widening.

"No," the prince shook his head, "not with you, with..."

Despite the way he trailed off, Dwalin gave him a knowing smirk, crossing his tattooed arms. "Ah, I see," he nodded, "not with me, not with me at all. With the lass, eh? Why, she didn’t greet you with a kiss?”

Having an older brother really steeled one to teasing. Much as Kili wanted to fight, to protest and say oi, quit that or I’ll make you, he knew it was exactly the rise Dwalin would’ve wanted to get from him. Beside the other fact that his elder could kick his ass easily.

“‘Course not,” he replied nonchalantly as he could, “I just noticed someone had braided her hair was all.”

Even Dwalin had cause for surprise at that, dark eyebrows shooting up to his metaphorical hairline. “Just since this morning?”

“Yeah,” Kili replied, trying not to sound as deflated as the words made him feel, knocking the air clean out of him now that he’d said them out loud, “thought maybe you’d seen who did it.”

“Hadn’t even crossed my mind, but I think it was like that when she and Bilbo headed back to camp.”

“Bilbo?” He’d lose to a three and a half foot…grocer? “Well now, I’d not have expected that, eh?”

“I can tell ye don’t actually want to laugh, son.”

Sighing, he finally let himself deflate. Bilbo? You and Bilbo?

~

“I hardly see them talk that much. Do you?”

“Not nearly enough to warrant a marriage. Those take time.”

“I know, Fee.”

“Spark.”

“I know.”

“And I thought you two had it. Not even just saying that because you’re my brother. You know I’m honest with you. The only reason those two would have is both feeling like outsiders, and that hardly seems cause to f-”

“Thank you, Fili, yes. Perhaps I was just wrong. Perhaps she could never have loved me after all. She wasn’t my One.”

“Now, brother,” grabbing him by the cheeks with one hand, Fili pulled his younger brother’s gaze to meet his, “not so hasty. Have you talked to either of them yet?”

“Wasn’t ready,” he mumbled, shaking out of the squishing grasp.

“Well, perhaps you should. Knowing is pain, yes, but it is also the thing that keeps us going in the end.”

Kili dropped his gaze thoughtfully before meeting his brother’s eye again, smiling faintly. “Remember our old espionage days? Maybe it’s time we had another mission.”

“Alright,” Fili nodded and smiled, “for old times’ sake.”

~

“Well hello there, Master Burglar.”

“Whatever it is, I won’t fall for it.”

“Now, now, so dry and for what?” Fili wrapped an arm around the hobbit. “I was just wondering how you you were coming along with…a certain member of the company.”

At that, the hobbit’s face crumpled in disgust. By Fili’s reckoning, Master Bilbo seemed barely interested in romance and certainly not with any of the types he currently ran with. He needed someone more doilies and dishcloths and the lot. You may have been the closest to his type, but still far too much of an edge, far too much indeed.

“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo simply replied.

With a conspiratorial wink, Fili leaned in and whispered your name, glancing back to the hobbit’s eyes, which narrowed slightly. Suspicious.

“Uh, w-well I would say,” Bilbo stuttered, shrugging lightly, “well as we could be, all things considered.”

“All things considered?” Fili’s grip tightened a bit. “There are things to be considered?”

“There are plenty of things to be considered!” The burglar shot back. “Why, is she upset with me? Last I heard, she liked the braids and I made her feel much more comfortable. Have I done something today?”

Blue eyes closing to near-slits, Fili released his grip entirely, arm falling back to his side. “Did she ask you to arrange her hair?”

“She complained about it,” Bilbo replied, shimmying in his newfound freedom and using his released arm to slide his pack closer, “so I offered to do something about it. Can’t imagine that is much of an outrage…oh. Oh, good heavens! No! Oh, no. No. She could be my daughter, who on earth sent you over here to…?”

Blonde brows raising, Fili’s head shot back in surprising hard enough to send his mustache braids swinging. “Wait, so you do know about courting braids?”

“Gloin was just telling me all about his,” the hobbit replied, freezing in place even in spite of his awkward, hunched-into-his-pack-hands-deep posture, “neither of us thought a thing about it. Privately I was hoping she and Kili would do whatever it was to get the tension out there, you know?”

Fili did know. He knew, all right.

~

“Psst! Psst! Hoo! Hoo! Caw!”

Kili’s head snapped up at the sound, dark eyes meeting his brother’s fair head popping from the scraggly bushes surrounding camp. One gloved hand waved wild beckoning at the younger prince. Rising from the rock he’d sat down on, one with a strategic view of some conversation between you, Uncle Thorin, and Balin, Kili strode to the edges of camp.

“Reconnaissance successful,” his older brother hissed.

“What?” Jaw dropping, Kili felt his hands leave his chest and clench in surprise. “That was fast. Nothing for me to do?”

“Not true, brother. Not true at all,” Fili smiled, “your part is far more important. You have to go talk to her.”

With a sigh, Kili nodded despite the heavy clunk of his heart in his chest. All the childhood playtimes were nice and all, but at the end of the day he had to be a dwarf about things. Face his fears, just like Uncle Thorin and his father and even Fili.

“You’re right. Though I dread it in my heart, I must speak to her. Even if my love is never known.”

“I wish you the greatest of luck,” Fili patted his shoulder, smiling eagerly, “and trust me. She won’t do a single thing to hurt you. I know it. Alright?”

Another nod. “Alright.”

Inhale, exhale. One step, then another. It was hard sometimes. Putting on the bravado. Fili was always so capable and Uncle had high standards. Not that he shouldn’t, but…it just got easier to act unafraid of everything. In truth, there was much Kili didn’t understand. Much he feared. Perhaps even his own heart, and that was why he had allowed himself to play games with it for so long. No longer, though.

Crunching across the dry campsite ground, he marched up to you as your conversation ended and asked to speak with you, frowning slightly at the nod Balin and Thorin exchanged. Focusing instead on your gaze, the way your eyes were intent in his and the-admittedly quite adorable-way shock bloomed across your face before giving way to a smile and a nod.

“Of course,” you said, and that was that.

How was it that one little smile from you could simultaneously calm Kili's heart and set it leaping like nothing else? There truly was no denying that you were special. Perhaps Bilbo had seen what was so dazzlingly obvious, too. Guess that wasn't too much of a shock.

You both ventured toward the tree line, stopping next to a particularly sturdy trunk. Eagerness was written across your face as you leaned against the smooth bark, encouraging Kili with a smile he couldn't help faintly mirroring even as tears swam in his eyes.

"Are congratulations in order?"

"For me?" You asked, head tilting and hand reaching to your chest. "Forgive me, but what are you asking? I thought maybe I'd upset you last night, but now I really fear it. Or are you teasing me again?"

All thought was scrubbed from Kili's brain at your words, a thick blanket of confusion draping over the prince's mind and furrowing his brows. Is this what Fili meant? Were you not to hurt him because you thought him cross with you? That hurt a bit in and of itself. Perhaps you'd known he would be jealous. But then again, you had greeted him so casually, giving him a cute little wave when he came back...

"Please," he all but begged your name, "the suspense is just killing me. Is that not a courting braid you've been given? I know it is new as of yesterday."

"Is that why you looked so perturbed? Courting...courting braid? Kili," you laughed, "my hair was full of sticks and leaves and all manner of muck, so Bilbo detangled it and got it out of my face for me! Bilbo could be my father!"

Still a bit shaky, but Kili's face surrendered a smile at the teasing smack you gave his upper arm. "Oh, forgive me for being a dwarf," he shot back, "I was hardly the only one who noticed."

"But you were the only one who was jealous," you teased him back, "is that not right?"

Kili could tell by the faltering smirk you gave, by the dart of your beautiful eyes, that you did not truly believe it, but by Mahal, you would when he was done with you.

"Madly," he agreed, eyes boring into yours, "never let anyone but me braid your hair again."

Eyebrows shooting up to your hairline, you peeled yourself from the tree as if to get a closer look. "Kili..."

"I mean it," he implored your name once more, gently taking your shoulders in his hands, "please. This isn't a joke, but if you'd like me to convince you..."

Surging forward, Kili closed the gap between you two, his lips soft against yours and stubble pleasantly tickling against your skin, which shifted as you moved in response to his kiss. Your hands found purchase in his hair, tangling in it and eliciting a sound Kili was too focused on you to be embarrassed about. When you finally pulled away for air, he pulled you back, resting his forehead against yours with a growing smile.

"So, you convinced?"

Your eyes glittered with mirth, joy, mischief...perhaps even love, and Kili knew he should have never doubted you were his One. "So convinced I practically want you to rip out all of Bilbo's work and do it over again yourself."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #kili #kili x reader #kili x female reader #female reader #ask #anon #requested

[lilyrizzy]

continuation and happy ending for this break up fic. i fixed it! (and maybe did a sloppy job of it oops) BUT I hope this brings someone, somewhere joy.

When Daniel gets to the door of his apartment, there is a tall, cardboard box propped up against his door. He doesn’t know when it was delivered because he’s spent the last few nights since being back in Monaco bouncing between Scotty’s place and Blake’s, drinking more and sleeping less than he should.

It’s how he ended up in this mess in the first place; stuck in the minor injuries unit, bleeding and embarrassed, waiting for Max to come and rescue him. Because even now, six fucking months later, he still hasn’t changed his emergency contact information back to Blake.

Sighing, Daniel balances the box in one hand and fumbles with his keys in the other to get his front door open. Once inside he dumps the box onto the counter and pours himself a glass of water. Takes a sip, sets the glass back down, and feels lost.

The truth is, he doesn’t know what was worse. That he hadn’t expected Max to show up, or that he did, and even though Daniel saw him nearly every weekend still, like this it was- Different. Max with his mussed up hair like he’d rolled straight out of bed to come to the hospital for Daniel, reminding him of everything he didn’t want to remember.

Like how their kind of falling apart happened slowly, so slowly that the track limits crept up on them, and by the time Daniel tried to hit the break they were already in the wall. Small disagreements built on top of months of half-conversations, until resolution stopped being the goal. Instead, it was to get through a week, a day, a morning without cracking whatever tentative peace they’d found the last time.

Shaking his head is a bad idea considering he might have a concussion, but Daniel can’t stop himself from doing it. As though his brain is an etch-a-sketch from which the fights and the furious words he spat at Max regularly can be erased.

He groans out loud, tipping the rest of the water down the sink before turning his attention back to the parcel. Ripping it open gives his shaking hands something to do, gives his nail bed a rest from his anxious chewing.

A sweet smell hits him first, before his eyes can make sense of what he’s seeing, and-

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t a bouquet of tulips and a small, hand-drawn card.

To brighten your day, Uncle Daniel, the note attached said, in Isaac’s messy scrawl, but he bet the wobbly hearts underneath were all Izzy. The words all Michelle.

It’s enough to put the smile back on his face for just a moment, even as his stomach churns with the same homesick feeling he’s been unable to shake since he left his and Max’s apartment. Placing the card down, he takes one of the petals between his thumb and finger, feeling the waxy smoothness against his skin.

They’re a bigger bouquet than the tulips he’d brought for Max one time, back when their fights could be so easily fixed. Daniel can still remember the pleased flush that warmed Max’s cheeks as he’d looked between Daniel’s face and the flowers, eyes wide like this was the most romantic thing someone had ever done for him.

At the time, it had made Daniel proud of himself. Now, it just makes him sad. The idea that crappy, half-wilting tulips brought from a supermarket in Monaco could mean so much when Max deserved the world.

But this had been the way things always went. Daniel would show up with a poker chip from Vegas, a guitar pick from LA, a seashell from Perth, and Max would beam at him like he was the sun for bringing him a gift. Or just- maybe just because Daniel showed up at all.

I don’t understand, Daniel, why nothing with you is ever enough. Max had always thrown in his face whenever Daniel picked a fight as a plea for words, for attention, for affection. I am here, aren’t I? The more than you was always unspoken, but still deafening.

I’m always going to be here.

And he still was, living in their apartment that Daniel moved out of months ago. Still sending Daniel’s dad a bottle of wine on his birthday, still cuddling Izzy when he saw her at the grand prix last weekend. Still turning up to hospital waiting rooms for Daniel at four in the morning.

Why do I feel like I have to be a fucking games console to get the tiniest bit of interest from you, Daniel had spat at Max, another evening he’d come home to find Max engrossed in the sim. How am I supposed to trust that you love me when you hardly ever fucking say it?

For not the first time, Daniel wonders if maybe Max had been trying to all along, just not with words.

“Fuck, Maxy,” he says to the empty room. “Fuck sake.”

Rubbing his eyes, he paces to the window, wanting to press his throbbing head against the cool glass. He should go to bed, should crawl beneath the covers and sleep until he wakes up feeling strong enough to try forgetting Max all over again.

Needs to forget his worried eyes scanning over Daniel’s body as though trying to catalog where he might need fixing, the soft way he’d said Daniel’s name under the harsh glare of the hospital lights. His stupid fucking car, flashy even for the streets of Monaco, and far too fast at the same time, that-

That is still parked beneath Daniel’s building on the street below.

His eyes catch on it as they slit open against the rising sun, the sparkle of the paintwork against the tarmac. Daniel glances at the clock above his oven. He’s been home an entire fifteen minutes, and still Max hasn’t moved. If he’s not careful he’ll get a parking ticket.

Some things are worth it, he’d told Daniel when he’d warned him of the same thing, a million years ago now, picking Daniel up from the airport and lingering too long in the ‘kiss and fly’ lane.

In another life.

The life Daniel wants more than he can remember the reasons he walked out of it.

“Max,” Daniel finds himself calling out stupidly, even though it’s obvious Max can’t hear. He opens the balcony door, stepping out onto it and calling it louder. “Max!”

Though the traffic on the street below is quiet, almost non existent at this hour, Daniel’s shouts still don’t seem to carry far enough. There’s no sign Max has heard, no opening of a car door, no emergence of his blonde head from the drivers seat.

Daniel needs to do more, he needs-

Stepping back into the apartment, his eyes search his kitchen frantically until his hands grab the flowers on instinct. For a moment, he considers walking down the stairs and handing them to Max, an offering, an apology, a chance, but-

Daniel can’t let him drive away. He can’t risk running down the stairs only to find him gone when he reaches the pavement and steps back out into the Monaco sunrise. This moment is his tenth of a second, small but capable of making all the difference as long as he doesn’t take his foot off the pedal.

A split second of madness passes, and he finds himself back on the balcony pulling one of the stems loose from the bouquet. Before he’s thought about it anymore, he’s watching it hurtle off the edge towards Max’s car. It misses, landing just to the side by his front left tyre, Daniel isn’t giving up.

Stem by stem, he pulls the flowers loose, throwing them down onto Max’s car. His aim gets better, and soon nearly each one is landing on his bonnet or his windshield. Their petals make a soft sound as they hit the shiny bodywork of the car. Sunshine yellow against Ferarri red.

Finally, the car door opens and Daniel waits, arm suspended backwards in midair, still clutching a fistful of stems.

“Daniel, what the fuck are you doing?” Max shouts eventually, scrambling from the car looking pissed.

He covers his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the growing daylight, face screwed up as he squints up at Daniel. His expression should be a reminder of so many bad memories, and it is, but it’s also something Daniel doesn’t want to miss anymore.

“Maxy!” He shouts, letting the rest of the flowers drop to the floor in favour of leaning over the balcony. His heart is pounding so hard against his rib cage that he’s surprised the railing beneath him isn’t vibrating with it. “Can you- I love you. Can you come upstairs?”

For a moment, Max’s face just melts into blankness. The moment stretches, long enough that Daniel’s brain starts scanning for a joke to make, to backtrack, to just get out, but then-

Max smiles. A different kind of sunshine, but still so fucking bright.

“I love you too,” he calls up, his voice more than a little croaky. “I think- I think it would be better if I told you this more, before, but- But also I think it would be better if you came home.”

Daniel’s trainers slap quickly against every other step on the way back down the stairs.

#for once i stuck to my word and wrote the happy ending! #and it was bloody hard lol so #sorry if it sucks! #fic #max/daniel #also ignore delivery logistics that dont make sens plsss lol

[marleyybluu]

Boy, Bye

Spooky x black!fem!reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: 18+, smut central (with plot), flirting, mentions of drinking and drug use (relax it's just weed), smoking and driving (but don't be this stupid), Spooky being a nervous boy at the end, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap that bitch up we don't need any more crotch goblins jk), creampie because I'm a sick bitch, Spanish nicknames as usual, probably misspelling bcus I was high as shit writing this. lmk if i missed anything

A/N: This was inspired by Boy, Bye by Ari Lennox, her album age/sex/location is a banger I have rediscovered it and the idea hit me like a brick. I do wanna say I don't mention the readers skin tone or anything but she is a black woman bcus i mentioned a fresh set of braids. and black women should be the only ones wearing box braids, wigs, etc... in case yall forgot :)

Not my gif.

The distinct chatter of club patrons droned out of your ears as a persistent ringing replaced it. You sat at the bar, your back turned to counter and your elbows planted firmly on the surface. Just minding your business. Drinking your rum and coke.

"You look sweet like mangoes." A very hot and unwarranted breath invaded your space and it was a reminder as to why you didn't want to come out in the first place. Men were gross, they ruined everything with catcalls and what they think are sweet pickup lines. You turned your head to look at him, he flashed a drunken smile— his teeth crooked and filled with whatever he'd eaten before he got here. You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the crowd.

He wasn't the first to approach you tonight, especially since you dispersed from your group to sit at the bar, your feet killing you from the stupid but cute heels you wore. "Sweet like mangoes huh?" You reiterated. He nodded leaning in closer as you leaned away. "Yeah. I know."

The man chuckled at your lack of a 'thank you.'

"Now why are you acting like that? Hm? A man can't get to know you?"

You wrapped your lips around your straw and sipped obnoxiously but he wasn't budging. "A man whose leftovers aren't in his teeth can get to know me." You bit. The man leaned back in disbelief, your comment seemingly sobering him up. "Well, fuck you then bitch."

You raised your glass. "You wish you could." That added fuel to the fire and he stormed off like a pissed off toddler. You smiled taking the last sip of your drink, turning around to place it on the bar, you needed a bit of time before you ordered another, might be the last before you go home. You hopped off the stool and grabbed your purse heading to the restroom, surprisingly there was no line but a few girls were hogging the vanity reapplying whatever makeup had come off. You shuffled inside the small stall and propped your purse on the hook of the door.

Once you were done handling business the women had disappeared and you had the sink to yourself, you washed your hands and dried them off with the paper towels provided, and you checked yourself out flipping your fresh braids to the side finding that was cuter than just having a middle part. When you were satisfied you headed back out putting a little pop in your hips. On your way back to your spot you noticed a man, a young man maybe about your age, sitting in on the seat next to yours. You shrugged and headed over anyway hopping back up without saying a word.

You pulled out your phone and noticed a notification from the group chat, one of the girls asking if you were okay and where were you. As you typed you remained oblivious to the stranger next to you, unaware of the little glances that he took at you. He tipped his head back as he drank from his Corona, you sighed putting your phone down. "You're good?" He asked, genuinely, to your surprise. You looked over at him and nodded. Your eyes analyzed whatever you could see in the shitty and low lighting. The first thing you noticed was the shaved head, not really your thing but it was cute on him, his bushy eyebrows raised in interest watching you examine him. He sported a small moustache and a goatee, the sides were clean-shaven, his slim and aquiline nose complimented him as well and with a nose like that, you wondered how the rides were on that face.

"Can I get you a drink?" He asked breaking the silence, you'd accept it, telling him thanks and allowing him to wave over the bartender. You remembered seeing a whiskey sour on the little drink menu and ordering that while he ordered another Corona. He smiled at you, his cheeks so high it made his eyes squint, and you tugged at your bottom lip. "Don't worry I don't have any corny ass pickup lines like the rest of these putos." He reassured. You playfully dismissed him. "Eh, they aren't so bad." Lies.

He turned himself in the stool, his whole body facing you-- one leg on the footrest of the seat and the other on the floor. Your eyes involuntarily dropped down to his lap and quickly back up to his eyes. "Yeah? So, how come you pushed 'em all away?"

He'd been watching you?

"'Cause none of them bought me a drink." You flirted. "Oooh, so that's why I haven't gotten dissed yet?"

You shrugged. "Maybe."

"I can respect that."

Your drinks arrived and you thanked the bartender. He raised his bottle. "Salud."

"Salud." You copied. You took a sip and shook your head, damn that really is sour. He snorted at the way your face contorted. "Don't like it?"

"Didn't expect it to be that sour."

"I could get you a different drink."

You passed. "It's okay, I can handle it. Plus I wouldn't want one of your little girlfriends seeing you buy me more than one drink."

He rolled his eyes bringing his drink to his lip, "No girlfriends over here."

"Surprised."

"Why?"

You set your whiskey sour down and boldly stated, "You're way too fine to be alone." He turned his head away from you, a warm feeling spreading across his face but he couldn't let you see it. "Thanks, mamita." He responded turning back to your direction. "You sure your man won't fight me for buying you one? 'Cause I can put up a good fight cariño."

You tilted your head to the side, smitten. "No boyfriend's over here."

"Good to know."

— — Your once drastic and boring night was starting to look upward. Spooky, you found out to be his name, was good conversation. Yeah, he threw a corny line here and there but you actually liked them coming from him, he wasn't trying too hard he was just being playful.

Your eyes landed on the imprint on his neck, a crucifix tilted on its side with the name Santos etched down the middle. "Los Santos... hm are you?"

"Am I what?"

You leaned into him your hand finding its way to the side of his neck and gently dragging your nails on his inked skin. "A saint."

His eyes focused more on your lips. "More of a sinner." He mumbled. You giggled tipsily. "Boy, bye."

The DJ had announced it was the last song of the night, you looked at your phone reading 3 AM, your plans to leave early had been disrupted in the best way. Spooky noticed your attention detour. "Ready to go home?"

You sighed now not wanting the night to end. "Guess so."

"I could drop you home."

Your eyes sharpened, you didn't know him... but, fuck, you liked him enough to almost agree to it. "I don't know if I want a sinner dropping me home."

He put his hand over yours, the contact sparked a warm feeling in your lower belly. He guided your palm to his chest. "I'll be a saint,cielito, don't worry."

You laughed wholeheartedly. "That was so fucking lame."

"Made you laugh though."

It did.

You agreed to take the ride and while he paid for the drinks you texted the group:

Y/n: got a ride home ;) I'll talk to you bitches tomorrow.

They gassed you up for any potential activity tonight and hoped that you'd get home safely. Spooky got off first and held his hand out to help you down, he didn't let go as he led you through the crowd, he met up with the boys you assumed he came with and dapped them up with his free hand, his other one never letting go of yours.

Soon, you two were out the door, you lowkey stumbled through the parking lot, alcohol and heels were never a good combo. He helped you though. And you two arrived in front a Red Impala, your mouth twitched with fascination. "Nice car." You blurted out. "Thanks ma, worked on it myself."

"Damn, he's cute and a mechanic? You sure no one is crazy over you?"

He opened the door for you. "No, just you."

"I'm not crazy, yet." You pointed before sliding inside. He closed your door and headed over to his side. Your body was full of tingles, the feeling reaching your toes but you didn't know if it was the buzz from your drink or if it was him. Either way, you were enjoying this.

Spooky pulled off. You sighed and smiled lazily throwing your head back, you were floating— your body felt like it was flying through space. "You smoke?" He asked, you heard a lighter flicker and you shook your head. "I do, but I can't take anything else right now."

He shrugged and inhaled the THC, he reached for the dial on his stereo and turned up the volume, the music he was playing earlier resuming its beat. Sierra Leone by Frank Ocean serenaded your ears. "I love this song."

You hummed along to the slow tune. Spooky caught you in the corner of his eye, he smiled. He enjoyed the show and the company until he pulled up to your neighbourhood and into your driveway. You groaned, did he really have to go?

You notice him turn the car off. "You're not coming inside you know."

He smirked. "Don't worry, I'm just taking you to the door at least."

You slightly frowned, he left you for a few seconds before your door opened and he offered his hand once again. You successfully landed on your feet, your hand moulded with his and now it was your turn to lead him. Up the steps. You fumbled with your keys until you found the correct one, you felt nervous under his gaze. Those low eyelids undressing you, you just knew it. Your key slid into the slot and turned it unlocking your door. "Thanks... for the ride."

"No problem, ma." You looked up as he towered over you. His energy pulled you in, you were drunk but you weren't that drunk. Maybe he could come in for a little bit.

— — Clothes spread across your bedroom floor, the sheets sliding off the bed like melted cheese. You two were in a tangle of limbs, naked bodies pressed against each other, his nose brushed yours as he planted the softest kiss on your lips. Your hands flew to his flushed cheeks pulling him in with eagerness and at the same time, his slender finger running over your blue panties. You smiled against his lips. His kisses were so warm and passionate. 

He used his fingers to tug at your panties, hauling them to the side. You whined feeling him run them between your wet folds, collecting and salivating your juices. He toyed with your clit, slowly and steadily, your hips bucking up to chase his touch. Ending your short misery a finger entered your heat, you gasped in the middle of your kiss and your eyebrows knitted together, your face reading 'finally.' You smiled hazily against his lips once he pulled it out and plunged back in with an additional finger. "Fuuuuck."

He skillfully curled his fingers up hitting that spongey spot, that sweet spot. You squirmed under him with pleasure and anticipation... desperation, for more. You sat up on your elbows looking down and seeing his fingers work their magic on you, your mouth fell open, pushing your hips forward once again. You just wanted more.

You looked back up at him. "You're so pretty when you make that face, cariño." He complimented. The heel of his hand brushed against your pulsing clit, you clenched around his fingers causing a smirk to appear on his face. "S-shit, please."

"Please what mi amor?"

For once, you were in no mood for foreplay, you were very slick and sticky with arousal. "Just fuck me, please."

He smiled shaking his head at your earnest request, he continued his teasing assault on your sweet spot, his lips connecting to your neck, your eyes rolling at the immense pleasure you were receiving. Your hand on the back of his neck holding him in place. "Yes... oh... yes!" He was pulling your orgasm closer and closer, your hips raised off the mattress. "I thought you just said you wanted me to fuck you?"

"I-I do."

"Doesn't seem like it now." He evilly chuckled. The sound of your pussy juice and your frantic whimpers went straight to his dick, his growing erection poking at your leg. "I'm gonna cum." You wept. Spooky slowly pulled out his fingers leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, you groaned glaring at him. He winked wrapping his lips around the fingers that were just inside you, he licked off your essence until his fingers were clean. You giggled dropping your head on the pillow.

Spooky pulled off his boxers and his dick sprung out with a wet thud once the tip hit his lower abdomen, fuck he was so hard, you drooled at the sight spreading your legs further apart. He wrapped his hand around his girth sliding his tip between your soaked folds before carefully pushing his length inside you. Your voice broke at the feeling of him against your gummy walls, enveloping every inch he had to give you. Your bottom lip finds comfort between your teeth, your head tipped back and your toes curled. His sack hits your ass as he bottomed out. Filled you to the brim.

Spooky held his position, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him. His warm hands find solace on the back of your thighs, sliding up to the crook of your knee. You felt as he pushed your legs back, your knees touching your chest. He pulled his hips back and pushed them forward flush against your pelvis his coarse curly hair at the base of his shaft brushing against your clit, an additional sensation. 

Your hands wrapped around his wrists as he rocked into you, giving you strokes you've never felt in your life. Your mouth fell open, breathless whispers leaving your throat, egging him on about how well he stretched you, how full you felt with him inside you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! That feels so-o good." 

Spooky smirked looking down at you, your various love faces so beautiful being contorted with pleasure. He leaned down, your legs now planted on his shoulders, he kissed your nose and then forehead before pressing his against it. There was a mix of sounds-- his grunting, your erotic moans and the sound of skin on skin bounced off the walls, if you lived in an apartment they'd probably knock on the wall to complain. 

You could feel yourself leaking, dripping, onto the sheets and coating his dick in your desire. "You're so fucking pretty when you're taking me, princesa. Eres muy guapa." He groaned, your head fell back, your high carefully approaching once again. Your nails left crescent shapes on his skin. "Shit! I like being inside you, you're so fucking wet, bebita." 

Your walls constantly fluttered around him. He hissed and you smirked. "I know you feel that, fuck, I'm gonna cum for you." 

His hand slipped between sweaty bodies, his fingers finding your clit once again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, his teeth nibble at your jaw. "Right there! Uh-huh, right fucking there!" Spooky pounded into you, hard yet maintaining rhythm. Your eyes are glossy with incoming tears, the overstimulation of it all. "Fucking squeeze me, mamita. I got you, cum on this dick." 

His words tip you over and your body tenses up and your eyes fall into the pit of your skull. He felt every pulsation of your orgasm, his tip constantly hitting your spot. He held up his weight, his hands rested on your lower back fingers gripping your ass cheeks. His thrusts became sloppier as he helped your ride out your orgasm and his quickly approaching. "Oh my god," You hazily giggle. "Fuck! Yeah, use me to get yourself off, please. Cum wherever you want, baby, give it to me." 

Spooky pushed in one more time, you faintly smiled at the feeling of his warm spend squirting inside of you. You were both out of breath, Spooky leaned back and sat on his knees with his softening dick still buried inside you. He helped take your legs off his shoulder and you mumbled in pain. "Shit... I mean I didn't expect you to actually fold me." 

He laughed. "I said I was gonna do it." He spoke in reference to his warning earlier when you lured him into your house. He leaned down once again to give you an affectionate kiss. "You feeling okay?" 

"More than okay." You confessed. "Good," He kissed your nose before pulling out, you almost pouted at the loss. "You're okay if I grab some water?" 

You nodded telling him there were bottles in the fridge, he shot you a thumbs up and put on his boxers before he left, once he was out of your sight you let out a big sigh of relief and a very bright smile was sure to follow. You felt so giddy, butterflies were making their home in your nervous system. What the fuck was this feeling? 

Spooky grabbed two bottles and made his way back upstairs, offering you one. You thanked him and sat up as carefully as you could. You caught a prideful smirk on his face. "Don't start." You warned him, he put his hands up in defence. 

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asked out of the blue. "Not much, why?" 

"Uh, I'm not one to overstep my boundaries and it's up to you,  really, but do you want to get something to eat?" 

You nodded. "Of course. Any places in mind?" 

"There's a... breakfast bar... downtown." He sounded more nervous with that statement. You blushed. "Breakfast? Oh, so you want to spend the night with me, Spooky?" 

He suddenly felt like an idiot, he was very much a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits person but with you, he kind of wanted to see if this could go somewhere. "If that's cool with you." 

You set your bottle down on the nightstand, you smiled propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You crawl over to him and kiss his temple, you go down to nibble his ear and whisper; "If you keep fucking me like that, I just might have to keep you." 

He shivered, his dick jumped at the thought alone. Quickly the roles were reversed back his fingers intertwined with yours as he put you on your back. 

"I better get to work then."

If you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic. comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

peace and love, see you in the next one.

🏷: @darqchilddaydreamz @skyesthebomb @realhotgurlshit

if i'm missing any tags or if you'd like to be tagged in any upcoming fics let your girl know.

#Spotify #oscar diaz #spooky #spooky x black!reader #oscar diaz x fem!reader #spooky fanfic #spooky fanfiction #on my block fanfic #on my block #on my block fanfiction #smut #oscar diaz smut #marleywrites #marleysfanfictions

[luveline]

Lovely Jade maybe you could write something about Roan finding a kitten on the street and hiding it in her backpack

🧡.

thank you so much for your request! eddie and roan —roan's acting suspicious. you and eddie investigate. stepmom!reader, 1.5k.

Roan comes in through the front door with a sweet smile. Living in your cul-de-sac has meant you don't mind too much if she wants to go out to play alone, where before Eddie would insist on sitting on the porch of the trailer, worried someone would come barrelling down the road seventy miles an hour. 

"Hi, princess," you say, leaning down with your arms propped on the counter. You're putting the finishing touches on a drawing using the sunshine. Nothing special, just a sketch for fun. 

"Hey, mommy." 

You preen at the title. Being a stepmom is awesome, especially when she feels comfortable enough to call you mom. "Is it home time for Georgia?" 

"Yeah, she's gone home for dinner." 

"Are you hungry? Daddy's still at Uncle Gareth's, so I'm in charge of food."

You turn around when you get no answer, waving your pencil at an empty kitchen. "Roan?" 

"I'm coming back!" She shouts from the top of the stairs. 

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay!" you shout back. "I get to choose dinner, then? What's that, you want chicken pot pie?" You smile. Eddie loves chicken pot pie, especially when you make it. 

You put your sketchbook and pencil case on the kitchen table and spray down the countertops. The motions of cooking are well worn now; you know how to make every recipe for two and a half people. You wash your hands, grab the canned puff pastry, and get to work. 

Roan appears again as you're spreading a little bit of flour over the counter, running to the sink. She kicks her stepping stool to the counter and climbs up to wash her hands. She looks cagey.

"Anything I should know about?" you ask.

Roan squirts dish detergent into her palm, strawberry scented rivulets running between her little fingers before she's had time to rub it in. You set aside your rolling pin and pick up the soap to put a small dollop of it in her other hand.

"Say?" you ask, stroking her bedraggled hair away from her face. 

"Nothing for you to know about." 

You turn her head to yours, water spitting at your shirts as she washes her hands hurriedly. "Hey." You frown, gaze narrowing on a bloody scratch that's caught the bottom of her right cheek. "Aw, bubby, what happened?" 

"It doesn't hurt," Roan says flippantly. 

"You're gonna have to let me wipe it clean, still. Okay?" 

"Yeah, mommy. Whatever you want." 

You bite the inside of your bottom lip to tamp down an embarrassingly huge smile. "Okay. Good girl on the hand washing, you gonna help me make dinner, huh?" You kiss the top of her head. "I'm so lucky, my girl's so helpful." 

"Can I go get changed first?" she asks. 

"Yeah, bub. Want help?" 

"No!" she shouts hopping down off of stool. She'll probably have to wash her hands again when she returns, but you're too happy to care. She's gorgeous, she's a sweetheart, and she loves you like a mom. 

You turn back to the pastry and roll out the bottom of the pie. You'll refrigerate it while you make the chicken filling and the roux. Which one to make first? You might have done things in the wrong order. 

"Ro, are you almost done?" you shout, blinking back to attention. "Let me look at that scratch, babe!"

Arms around your waist. You thought you heard the door. 

"What scratch?" Eddie asks, dipping his face down to the juncture of your neck, where he plants a warm kiss. 

"On her cheek. I let her go out with Georgia, I hope that's okay. Only in our street." 

"That's okay," he assures you. He hugs you with kind arms, not squeezing like he tends to, completely and utterly loving. You can't hug him while your hands are covered in flour, leaning back instead to soak in all his affection. "What's the scratch from?" 

"Yet to be determined." 

Eddie hums and holds you. You cave in to dirtying him, painting his forearm with white fingerprints as you hug it to your ribs. You let your head flop back, tickled by his exhales where they kiss your neck. 

You and Eddie stand there in quiet bliss. Then, from upstairs, you hear a strange sound.

"Is Roan back in her cat phase?" 

Eddie tilts his head away from you. His hand retreats from your abdomen where it'd been resting, braced on your hips. "Ro…" He groans. "Not again." 

"Eddie?" 

He takes your hand. "She has a cat in her room." 

The meows become clearer the further Eddie leads you up the stairs. You wipe as much of the flour on your hands onto your pyjama pants as you can, but it's a mess. Eddie can't complain —how often does he get car grease on you? 

"Roan Ayla Munson," Eddie says through the closed door. "I better not find anything in there that I'm not supposed to."

You startle at the use of her middle name. You didn't even know Roan had a middle name until a couple of months ago; you always thought Eddie skipped giving her one. Apparently he thought Ayla was the same as Aella, an Amazonian fighter who wielded twin axes. Ayla, in contrast, means a few things. Bringer of light, in Finnish. Circle of light around the moon, in Turkish. Oak tree, in original Hebrew. You love all three definitions, but bringer of light feels most accurate. 

Bringer of cats might be more astute at the moment.

"I don't have anything, daddy!" 

Meow. 

"I think you're lying to me. Last chance, bubby." 

A vehement shushing noise, a meow, and a defeated sigh sound through the door. Weight hits the floor, footsteps creeping closer. You and Eddie wait in apparently very different moods for her to open the door. 

Roan holds a wriggling kitten in her small hands. She's wearing a nightgown over her sweatpants like she'd started changing and forgotten. Her arms are covered in red scratches. The kitten yowls when it sees you and Eddie, likely finding you both to be more intimidating than your poor girl.

"Oh, babe," you fret breathlessly, "Eddie, take the cat." 

"Dad–" Roan starts. 

"Look at your arms," he interrupts with a tandem worry, taking the kitten from her.

You pick Roan up with ease, careful not to touch her pale arms. She tries to explain herself as you carry her down the stairs, "I found her behind Old Man Michael's house, she looked so sad and you said we should be nice to everything we meet, even if we don't like the way they look," she says. 

"I meant about spiders and ants and stuff," Eddie says, holding the angry cat in front of his chest cautiously. "You know, we don't have to kill little creatures if we don't have to. I didn't mean you should kidnap kittens." 

"She looked hungry." 

You put Roan on the clean bit of counter between the stove and the sink and frown at her arms. "Sweetheart," you murmur sympathetically, "don't these hurt?" 

"Well, I…" 

You shoot Eddie a look. He stares the kitten in the eyes rather than meet your own, seemingly distracted. Fine, you'll try parent by yourself, even if you're no expert yet. 

"What?" you ask patiently. 

"I was hiding her in my backpack, but she didn't like it. She thinks it's too small." 

"I bet so." You're thinking, Eddie, what are we gonna do? And, Ouch, these are going to hurt. "Ro, is this how you got the scratch on your cheek? You're lucky he didn't scratch you in the eye." 

"I think he's a girl," Roan says. 

This is less important to you than the scratches, but you amend yourself anyways. "She could've blinded you." 

"I think you're in trouble, Ro. We already talked about this before, didn't we? No stray cats in the house," Eddie says.

"I already told you, dad! Rufus and Steve let themselves in, I didn't used to do that." 

You wash your hands swiftly and grab the first aid kit from under the sink, pulling out the blue disinfectant spray that Roan hates. She winces at the sight of it as you expected, pulling her arms against her tummy. 

"It won't hurt anymore than the scratches did when the kitten did them," you say gently.

Roan shakes her head. 

You put the disinfectant between her knees and lean in. "I'll make daddy make cookies, yeah? You be brave and let me clean your scratches and we'll have warm cookies and ice cream."

Eddie breaks out of his stare off, taken aback. "It's her own fault," he says, though he's smiling. 

"She was trying to do a good thing. And look at her little arms, Eds, hasn't she been punished enough?" you ask. 

The kitten kicks its legs weakly. "What the heck are we gonna do with her?" Eddie asks. 

"We could keep her," Roan says. 

"Don't push your luck, Roro." 

You lift the disinfectant spray. Roan seems apprehensive still, so you look her head on and wink. "I'll try my best," you whisper.

Roan holds out her arms with a grin.

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4