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hllfireclb · 1 year

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"I‘ll make you feel better Princess“ | Older!eddie X Fem!reader

Pairing: Older Eddie X Fem Reader (reader is 21, Eddie in his 30‘s)

Warnings: +18 MINORS GO AWAY ISTG, Age gap, slight Daddy kink I think?? hurt / angst,pet names, smut, eddie being a soft meanie, oral (f receiving), if I missed something pls let me know!

Word count: 2.3k

a/n: I’m such a simp for older Eddie x reader <\\\3 so I HAD to write something about it..this is my first time trying to write smut and idk how to feel about it. Maybe it’s kinda rushed? Idk :“)

English is not my first language, so I apologize for all kinds of mistakes! Feel free to send requests! feedback is always appreciated but please be nice! Enjoy the story! Don’t like? Don’t read!

Masterlist

It‘s a cold fall night in Hawkins Indiana, 2am to be exact. You should be lying in your bed by now, cuddled up between your plushies and pillows to get some sleep before work tomorrow. Instead you’re here. Sitting in your older neighbors lap while he‘s softly playing with your hair. Your back is pressed against his strong chest, enjoying the comfortable state you’re currently in as his body gives you some warmth. He‘s like your personal human heater. Your eyes are focused on the small screen in front of you, watching whatever lame sitcom is playing at this time, when a soft sigh escapes your lips.

"What is it Sweetheart?“ the deep voice of your fathers co-worker suddenly interrupts your silent staring contest with the screen of the TV. "What do you mean?“ is all you say, not daring to look away from the screen but Eddie has other plans. He wraps his strong arms around your hips, making you face him within 2 seconds and without any struggle. He‘s expecting to see your pretty eyes staring back at his but instead he finds you looking slightly downward, directly onto his chest. His fingertips poke into your side, a sign for you to look at him, but you don’t. You‘re avoiding his gaze on purpose.

"You know exactly what I mean, young lady. What‘s going on in that pretty head of yours?“ his voice is soft but daring. He wants to know what made you come over to his old, messy trailer. Especially because it’s 2am on a Wednesday night and because he knows you have to get up early tomorrow. If you‘re not going to tell him on your own, he‘s going force it out of you.

This time it‘s his turn to let out a heavy sigh after no reaction of yours. One of Eddie‘s hands finds it‘s way to your jaw, gripping it hard to lift your head up a bit and making you look at him. This time your eyes meet with his instantly. They’re beautiful brown, almost like the color of chocolate. His pupils are expanded, not as wide as they are when he‘s horny but just enough to see the pure adoration and concern in his eyes. A simple look of his is all you need to start blushing like a crazy teenager who‘s madly in love.

It‘s not the first time that Eddie looks at you that way. He has done it many times before but ever since the two of you started this little 'affair', how you like to call it, it just feels so much different. So much better. Eddie and you have known each other since you were 16 years old, he actually took care of you sometimes too. Whenever your father was on one of his "business trips" or out partying, Eddie happily decided to look after you. He made you breakfast, watched over you when you had some parties at yours, he drove you to school and picked you up again. People in town started to think that Eddie Munson had found his "lost daughter“ how they liked to call you. But you‘re still pretty much convinced that he‘s just doing all of that for you, because he knows how it feels to grow up without parents. Without a father figure especially.

"Are you gonna talk to me, or do you just wanna keep staring, Princess?“ his voice pulls you out of your thoughts once again, the nickname he has given you making you shiver under his touch slightly. "Sorry..'s just that you‘re really fucking pretty" your lips form into a soft smile. The grip on your jaw loosens up as Eddie gives you his usual, deep chuckle. Your favorite sound ever, next to his moans. His hand wanders down your body until it‘s settled on your hips, drawing slow circles into the flesh of your barely covered ass. "Well…y‘know I appreciate your compliments. But you gotta talk to me Angel, what made you come over to an old man like me at that time, mh?" You stay silent again, causing another sigh of Eddie‘s but before he‘s able to continue talking, you start talking.

"It‘s just..my dad was being an asshole again. I didn’t want to argue with him…so I left. And I thought coming here was the best thing to do.." you shyly admit while looking down to his chest once again. Not daring to look up, he’s probably smirking like always. Teasing you. Your fingers slowly start dragging over the soft material of his tank top, playing with the hem of it as you reach the bottom. Eddie stalks over your hands, following every single movement with his eyes. Gosh he thinks you‘re adorable like this. Sitting there, in one of his old Shirts and your panties only, right on his lap, while you’re playing with his clothes. He probably shouldn’t be head over heals for a younger women, especially not you since he has known you, since what feels like forever. Plus, you’re his co-workers daughter who just started working. All of this is so wrong. But it feels so goddamn right.

"You want me to make you feel better Princess? I‘ll take care of you, no matter what you want me to do" and he means it. If you need to cuddle up to his chest and ball your eyes out, he‘ll be the one to hold you close to him and let you wet his shirts with your tears. If you want to punch someone, he‘ll be the one to let you punch him. If you need a hot chocolate and ice cream, he‘ll drive to the next supermarket and get you everything you need. If you need to get fucked until you‘re nothing but a crying, cock-drunk Slut, oh he‘ll happily be the man to make you cry beneath him. He‘d do anything for you.

Your fingers make their way up to his chest again, locking your gaze with his carefully as you do and nod in response to his earlier question. "Words y/n." Of course he needs words. "Please make me feel good Eddie". That‘s all he needs. "I’ll make you feel better Princess".

Before you know it you’re flipped over, lying on your back with the soft material of the couch touching your back. Eddie‘s fast with his movements though. He’s hovering above you in the split of a second, pressing his wet lips onto yours as he kisses you messily. He may be older now but he’s still kinda chaotic when it comes to making out. You love it though. You softly moan into the kiss when one of his hands starts massaging your left boob, slowly playing with it as his other hand wraps around your throat to give it a soft squeeze.

He‘s lying between the fat of your thighs just as fast as you were lying on the couch. His arms wrap around your legs after he slowly pulls down your panties, smiling a bit because of the wetness that already lingers between your folds. He drags them all the way down, to your ankles before he sits up again, removing them completely and leaving you in front of him in nothing but his shirt. What a beautiful sight. You mirror his action, sitting up straight with your hands at the hem of his shirt. When he realizes you’re about to pull it off, he stops you.

"Keep it on please. You look stunning in this shirt" he smiles at you. Before you‘re able to protest, his lips are on yours again, moving slowly as the two of you find a steady rhythm. Going slow and passionate this time. You feel the light pressure he‘s putting into the kiss, a sign for you to lie down again. You happily follow his unspoken request and lie down, spreading your legs wider so he‘s able to get comfortable between your thighs. His arms wrap around your legs and hips once again and he slips even further until his lips graze over the skin of your inner thigh, making you gasp softly.

You‘re able to feel a smug grin form on his lips after he starts sucking on your skin slightly, leaving you with a few dark marks that only you and him will be able to see. A hot feeling starts to build up in your body, causing you to whimper softly. "Ed’s please..no teasing today. I need you" you sigh. Eddie doesn’t want to tease you, well at least not right now…but he wants to take his sweet time with you. He wants to worship your body in every way possible. He wants to show you how much he loves to make you feel good. To him, it doesn’t matter if he gets off on it. His only goal is to make you cum…also, most of the time he cums in his pants like a dumb teenage boy, just from hearing and seeing you fall apart beneath him.

"Sorry Sweetheart, just wanted to mark what‘s mine" he winks at you before pulling you even closer, making you gasp again after his tongue slowly starts drawing slow circles on your, already aching, clit. The two of you never spoke about what actually is going on with you..if you’re a couple already or not..but you couldn’t care less right now. Sweet Eddie really loves taking his time, devouring every soft moan and gasp of yours as he starts giving your bud the softest kitten licks. His slow make-out session with your clit doesn’t last long though, he knows what you need and he‘ll gladly give it to you. So his tongue starts to lick through your folds, which are soaked in your own juices by now, enjoying the taste of you in his mouth as he starts playing with your hole.

Normally he‘d be wearing his tongue piercing right now since he loves eating you out with it. It’s his new favorite thing to do, ever since you’ve told him that it makes you cum even faster, even harder…but because of the time you’ve decided to come over, he‘s sadly not wearing it. He‘ll definitely catch up to that tomorrow morning. While his tongue starts to happily explore your insides, one of your hands settles in his messy curls to tug on it every now and then. It helps you to find a hold and to not squirm away from him.

"Eddie Fuck! 'S so good“ you moan out softly while tugging on his hair, when his thumb lazily starts massaging your clit. He ate you out so many times by now, he just knows the ways to make you feel good. To make you forget everything. Others would get tired of cumming so fast, but you? Oh no, you love it. Especially because Eddie is so outrageous good at making you cum several times. With every soft tug on his hair, his own moans start to get louder…causing you to shiver and curl your toes into the sofa. He knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure.

Another moan escapes your lips, this time it‘s louder and more intense, causing Eddie to grin and stop his actions. "Already close, huh? Babe I didn’t even eat you out for five minutes" his smirk is devilish, causing your poor Pussy to twitch. He’s teasing you. "I told you to not tease me!" You pout at him. Oh how he loves seeing you like this, cheeks pink and chest moving up and down rapidly because of how hard you‘re breathing. "Yeah, yeah right..sorry" he grins even wider when he puts more pressure to your clit, causing your head to fall back and a whine to leave your mouth.

He‘s fast with continuing his previous actions, eating you out like the starved man that he is. He can’t get enough of you, especially of how you taste on his tongue. He slurps up every bit of juice, every moan of yours as he stares up at you, seeing you fall apart on his tongue only. It‘s embarrassing how fast you‘re at your own limit, feeling the knot in your lower abdomen build up already just from him eating your out. Pathetic. You slowly look up again, seeing his eyes stare directly back at yours. His black pupils took over the soft brown color which you were able to see earlier, the lust and the Hunger completely took over him by now. He grins wide when he catches you staring down at him, causing you to blush even harder as another moan escapes your lips.

You can feel your legs start twitching after a while and your breath starts to speed up a bit, Eddie feels it too. His grip on your hips tightens and his tongue starts moving faster as he moans into you. You don’t notice how he starts humping the soft material beneath you, trying to get some relief himself while he rubs intense circles on your clit. Another loud moan of yours fills the living room as you feel the knot in your tummy snap "ohmygodohmygodohmygod Eddie!! Fuck fuck fuck!". It‘s music to Eddie‘s ears. The best melody he has ever heard. Knowing he‘s the only one who makes you cum this hard and this fast makes him moan into you again as he tries to get everything of your orgasm. Eating everything up like it‘s his last meal. He takes you through your orgasm,while he helps you to calm yourself down by drawing smooth circles into your skin. When you‘re finally completely back to earth, he kisses your pussy one last time before he helps you to sit on his lap once again, holding you close.

"What about you? You didn’t get to cum and I know how painf-" you start but he cuts you off. "This wasn’t about me. It was about you Doll. We’ve got time for more tomorrow" his hand strokes over the back of your head as he plants a soft kiss on your lips, making you taste yourself on his tongue. You really do not deserve this man.

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sungbeam · 11 months

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the boyz office au, but you're the ceo

tbz ot11 x gn!reader

2.5k words, assorted headcanons, bullet format, ceo/office au, swear words

a/n: this was for fun and fun to do ;3

LEE SANGYEON: nothing changes; he’s still the boss

he’s a ceo, but he’s the ceo of another company, not yours

you and sangyeon are actually really good friends, and met when your friends attempted to set you guys up because you were both majorly workaholic (and still are) and were in desperate need of a life

but instead of ending up dating, you both agreed that you wanted to postpone a relationship and focus on your careers first 💀 which is, in retrospect, the total opposite of the reason behind setting you guys up in the first place, but…

what’re you gonna do ig 🤡 you’re both the smartest idiots to ever exist

of course, though, sangyeon does have feelings for you and kinda feels (in)secure because he thinks that if you end up not finding anyone else, that you could reasonably fall back on him instead

plus, everybody thinks you guys are together anyway (“have you heard? yn’s engaged to the son of the lee business conglomerate…”); when people ask him about confirming or denying, he’s very good about replying in a well-mannered way “no, yn and i are just very good friends”, but sometimes he wants to just say “no comment” with a secretive smile and let people speculate (but he respects you too much to do that)

JACOB BAE: the assistant who is not your assistant

imagine the one scenario from that cheesy netflix romcom called set it up, wherein the assistants of two successful ceos attempt to set each other's bosses up with one another, but then said assistants fall in love w/ e/o instead

EXCEPT jacob's the executive assistant of some other ceo who is trying to ~woo~ you (quite poorly, might i add), and he's been tasked with sending you gifts and getting to know you

this basically means he knows you way better than his boss, who is supposed to be the person trying to win you over, but jacob ends up falling for you instead as he gets to know you and what you like and what you are like (and he's just absolutely enamored by your work ethic and compassion and ingenuity and—)

suffice to say that it's really not so difficult to write you romantic cards attached to flowers when he sends them to you, but it's awfully off-putting when he has to put his boss's name instead of his own

(you like jacob so much better than his boss anyway, and whenever you meet the two of them, you send him cheeky winks and smiles because you know)

like imagine the way this man offering to personally deliver today's little gift to your office to escape his work and to see you

AND THEN instead of just accepting the gift and dismissing him, you ask if he'd like to stay for lunch to, idk, "chat about his boss" (he'd just be overjoyed)

KIM YOUNGHOON: brand ambassador

ah, the beloved pretty face of the company—other than yourself (you are arguably a fine face for your company yourself, but celebrity endorsement is never not needed); now that you thought about it, your company did employ a lot of pretty faces…

anyway! kim younghoon's obviously gotta be some big, rising actor star person and he's got the big name, the great smile, the clear charisma, and when he signed on to become an official partner of your company to endorse the product, you were over the moon

because he was your biggest stroke of luck in this realm, and your first, you and he actually got to work very closely in the early days of shoots and branding, up to the point where younghoon became a lot more involved in the marketing than just sitting pretty and smiling on a billboard (he had beauty and brains… hard not to fall for this one)

oftentimes, he would send you invitations to his red carpet events to be his plus one, too. just imagine sharing a limo with this guy, giggling in the backseat as you make funny faces at the paparazzi outside, and then holding onto his arm as the two of you posed at premieres

(oh my god and he would be SO cheeky if people asked if you two were dating smh like lee sangyeon, who??)

LEE HYUNJAE: head of the legal department

oh, you know this man's gonna be a little shitter—but he's also the best in the legal realm, and you couldn't exactly pass up the chance to be represented by lee hyunjae (who could've been the district attorney, but decided he wanted to take on the cutthroat world of business law instead lmao)

okay but please, he probably looks super fine in those crisp, fresh-pressed suits and the thin-wired specs as he takes on the courtroom (did someone turn up the heat…?)

i'm sorry i will move on TT

MOVING ON! you and he have probably been friends for a long time, maybe since high school or college, and so you got to see him rise during his career. he was probably one of the first people to encourage you to start the business, and sat with you through really long nights drawing up contracts and foundations and going through all the red tape

so maybe he's the best friend type, but he knows not only your business inside and out, but also knows a lot about you too

he's probably gotten so many offers to join other legal teams, but he loves the one he's built here and he can't really see himself representing any other company but yours? you yourself don't get into a lot of trouble, but he does find immense pleasure in taking care of anyone who thinks they can mess with you or tarnish your name

LEE JUYEON: vp of human resources

nobody is more equipped to handle the dramatics of hr than our lovely baby boy juyo 🤩🤩

some people might doubt his abilities because of his good looks (pretty privilege or sumn lmao) but he's got a work ethic of steel and a heart of pure gold; you don't trust your new recruits with anyone else but lee juyeon

pretty much everyone under your employ has gone through the hiring process with juyeon and even though he's very soft and charming, he can also be honest enough to cut out anyone who doesn't fit the work ethic the company might require of them (but on the same note, he's also got enough faith to be able to see the good and potential in people to give them a chance)

if anyone's got a problem, you can almost always count on juyeon to help you out

you and juyeon are often seen lunching together to talk about performance management, employee relations, and other associated policies in order to keep up to date with those and up to date with each other, because even though you are boss and employee, you're still good friends

juyeon's also no stranger to the world of brand ambassadorship, and he's one of the people who helped bridge the gap between you and the limelight, especially networking with people like younghoon

and it definitely helps that juyeon is also pretty enough to be on the cover of your company's billboards too 🥴

KEVIN MOON: global ambassador/vp global relations and investment

you didn’t even realize that you’d get to the point where your company was large enough to need to think of global expansion, so kevin’s coming onto the board of directors became a blessing and a huge marker of your company’s success

he’s everything you’re looking for in a global ambassador: charismatic, down-to-earth, creative, diplomatic, fluent in like 20357038 languages (english, korean, japanese, some french, etc.)

you and kevin actually took a trip to a location abroad to a prospective new office branch, which gave you and him lots of time to bond and become familiar with working with one another (changmin was left in charge, and though he was jealous that you didn’t even think to bring him, he was honored to manage the company in your stead; you and the rest of your board of directors met up at the location too so it wasn’t like it was just you and kevin ‘cause that would be… a little too much scandal for the rising employee)

anyway, kevin basically loves travelling and he always offers you this one guest house villa/timeshare he has in the location for you to stay at when you’re in town

like, whenever he hears you're in town, you know he's coming to pick you up in a pair of aviators and a convertible, and treating you to the absolute best the city has to offer

CHOI CHANHEE: vp of finance

chanhee's definitely your stereotypical, run-of-the-mill finance person, and not the Finance Bro™, but like the glasses-wearing, shrewd, calculating, and eagle-eyed excel spreadsheet wizard who doesn't take "impossible" for an answer

well, "impossible" only if it applies to certain financial constraints, but you hired this man in particular because you were confident in his ability to deal with money

and he definitely has not let you down

he's not really outgoing when you first meet him, but once you get to know him and the two of you start working together a lot more often, he starts to open up to you and you get to see more to him than just his smarts and snark

he's actually quite shy and, frankly, adorable, once you get to know him, and it's really fascinating to watch him work whether it's with just his mental calculator or with his extensive excel knowledge (he once did a presentation on excel and navigated the entire thing with just the keyboard and to say you were a little too entranced by his finger movements would be an understatement…)

is shy at first when he receives your praise, but is much more smug when he knows you better later on and catches you staring; imagine he offers to teach you his excel wizarding tricks and just leans over your shoulder and places his hand over yours on the mouse (*malfunctions*)

JI CHANGMIN: the assistant™ (i'm sorry, but are we surprised…)

oh boy, where do we even begin with this one?

well for starters, there are a handful of reasons you decided to hire changmin as your personal assistant/secretary even though he didn’t really have experience in the realm other than some desk job a few summers ago

he’s got an attitude that takes no shit from anyone (similar to chanhee), he’s got an approachable face, but he’s also got the ability to scare anyone off or into doing their work on time

changmin’s a really hard worker, and somehow worms himself into your heart and your office, always insisting that he stay at the office until you go home, too

gives anyone who presents themselves as a threat to his close, right-hand-man standing with you the bombastic side eye and a very scary smile

rip to changmin whenever he’s approached by reporters about your alleged “engagement” to lee sangyeon (very quick to shut those rumors down; even asks if you’d like him to contact the legal department but you brush it off as unimportant)

but besides always being your first line of defense (to be there for you), whenever sangyeon isn’t in town, he’s always your next choice to bring along to fancy galas/events (gives him the excuse to let you see him in a light that’s not just your scarily efficient assistant)

i liken assistant!changmin to the mistresses of kings who protected their positions ruthlessly (except no one in this is inbred and changmin totally wouldn’t poison any possible competition, right… haha right? right??)

JU HAKNYEON: college crush → celebrity crush 😎😎😎

to be completely real with you, haknyeon’s had a crush on you ever since college days when he was delivering pizzas to your neighbor and always saw you either coming in or out of your own apartment

you were always really friendly, greeting him with a sweet smile and appropriate “good morning”/”good night”

he occasionally saw you on campus and knew of your reputation as an ambitious and innovative go-getter, and he thought your energies matched really well

but for some reason, he was always too shy to ask you to hang out (maybe he was embarrassed that he was just the pizza delivery guy, but then again, you never indicated that you looked down on him for that)

he went abroad to go to this really great culinary school though, and eventually came back to open his own place

he had always planned to reach out to you and invite you to the opening, but it’s even greater now that you can both reunite as successful versions of your younger selves

(he invites you to his restaurant often, and always has a table reserved for you; almost always sits down to share a meal with you and catch up like he always wanted to do in college)

KIM SUNWOO: the one new paparazzi guy

he has no clue what is going on half the time to be honest lol but he's been hired, given a press pass, and now has a big boy job. what's the job? paying attention to you! well, it's a little more complicated than that…

when sunwoo majored in journalism, he didn't think that he'd be spending his day camping outside your company building for an exclusive interview with you

he didn't really understand your appeal until he was sitting in the lobby of your top floor office across from a very scary-looking assistant waiting for you to be ready to give him that exclusive interview

he definitely becomes a fan of everything about you afterward: from how you run things to the very way you made his coffee in your office—plus, he wrote one hell of an article on you and he got a great promotion because of you (he still doesn't know what he's doing half the time)

anyways, whenever something about you comes up at his publishing firm, he always worms his way into being in charge of it, and if anyone says anything bad about you, he's one of the first people to defend you

lmao he's also always the one who asks changmin if you and lee sangyeon are an item just to annoy your assistant (even if sunwoo is also secretly hoping that you and sangyeon aren't...)

ERIC SOHN: the intern who spilled coffee on you the first day

i feel bad for doing eric so dirty, but tell me you can also see him rushing down the hall with open coffee cups in either of his hands and he doesn’t even see you coming toward him until he—CRASH!—absolutely destroys the blouse you’re wearing and he’s a total, blubbering mess

he’s so afraid that he’s about to get fired on his first day, because anyone who doesn’t work directly under you believes you’re super scary, but you don’t fire him

he comes back the next day in fear of his life whenever he even hears about you

you bump into him (less literally than before) in one of the break rooms because you ran out of tea packets in your office and you soothe his worries

like literally made him smile and giggle like a school girl until he could look you in the eyes without cowering—

cue the literal heart eyes he has for you now instead of pure fear (he always peeks out of the copy room whenever he hears you coming down the hall so he can greet you)

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @vatterie @yogurteume @ethereal-engene @hyunjaespresent-deobi @justalildumpling @hongyangi @pxppxrmint @nerdypastacalzonespy @jcmdoll @zhaixiaowen @wtfhyuck @winterchimez @sodafy @fluorescentloves @tinkerbell460 @kflixnet

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

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Designated Person | Chapter 6

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Present

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting, alcoholism, abuse mention, lying, confrontation, crying, mutual masturbation, panty snatchin' (sorry idk what else to call it)

Notes: Hello hello hello! If you want the taglist, spotify playlist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. I appreciate your patience in waiting for this, thank you so much for reading. Ok love u have fun!

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Tonight, the AA meeting is being held in the conference room of a value hotel.

The three-story venue is ripe with families on vacation and traveling professionals who likely booked their rooms as a cost-saving measure. They certainly didn’t choose to stay here because of its charming features, such as the floating island of dead bugs in the outdoor swimming pool, or the dingy low-pile carpet darkened in high-traffic areas, or the generic, faded landscape portraits in shiny golden frames.

Its conference room is windowless, the only source of light buzzing from long fluorescents overhead, dousing everything in a twitchy, vague sort of green that grips Frankie’s stomach.

Or, maybe it’s just the story he’s listening to that’s making him feel ill.

Maybe a little bit of both, it’s hard to tell.

“She had her heart set on leaving, ‘n’ I told her, nobody fuckin’ wants you here anyway, Mary Beth, go on home!”

The haggard old man, who introduced himself as Fred, says this in a jovial, rehearsed way that tells Frankie this story has been told many times. Probably over drinks, to coworkers, or friends, or anyone who happened to be within earshot at his regular barstool.

Fred glances around over his puffy, purpled nose, like he half expects his spectators’ laughter, but the only noise is the squeak of people’s uncomfortable shifting in seats. Either because the story is too relatable, or because these folding chairs are hell on the tailbone.

“She told me if I didn’t get my ass outta that barstool, she’d be gone when I got home,” he looks at the floor and his cheeky grin falls, “I didn’t go home ‘til barclose. ‘N’ she was still there. Knew she would be. She always was.”

The room is silent as he gathers his thoughts.

“She passed away, few years back,” he looks around, putting his calloused hands up defensively, “‘N’ I miss her everyday, don’t get me wrong, but—”

The well-weathered skin of his face sags into solemnity, “I kinda wish she woulda kicked me to the curb, y’know? Was always waitin’ for it, for her to get fed up ‘n’ leave, but she never did. ‘N’ I think, sometimes, maybe… she woulda lived a better life if she did. ‘Steada waiting around for some drunk, she coulda really made somethin’ out of herself. And I feel…” he frowns at the floor, trying to pinpoint the correct emotion, a skill undoubtedly atrophied by decades of avoidance.

“Regret, I think? Wasting so much of her life. It’s one thing wastin’ my life, but her’s… I dunno. It don’t sit right,” Fred clears his throat and swallows, then sighs, “Guess that’s it. Our anniversary’s coming up next week, she’s been on my mind ‘n’ I wanted to get that out.”

The ringleader for tonight is David, as is usually the case at the Monday night meetings Frankie attends. He thanks Fred for sharing, then asks for another volunteer.

Frankie leans back in his seat and presses his fingers to his lips as another participant clears their throat and begins to talk. He’s stuck on the old man’s story, though. His knee starts bouncing as he turns it over in his mind.

I’m not that bad, right? I wasn’t that absent. I didn’t go to the bar every night. On the weekends, sure. And on weeknights, I’d drink myself fuzzy and numb, but at least I was at home.

Was he really present, though?

Before you, when Angie was home with Sarah on maternity leave, he’d come home from work and visit with them for a while. Knock a few beers or drinks back. After dinner, he would continue to drink in the garage, or in the basement. Somewhere Angie couldn’t raise her eyebrows every time he finished a beverage and retrieved a replacement.

Even after you, this ritual continued. You distracted him enough to slow the drinking those few hours after he got home. But once the table was cleared after dinner, he would tuck himself away somewhere in the house to drink alone.

It wasn’t always that way.

He drank, sure, but it wasn’t every day. It wasn’t to the point his mind went blank.

No, that didn’t start until he returned from South America.

Every time his eyelids closed, it played on repeat. The mansion. The crash. The village. Redfly’s vacant eyes. Over and over. His culpability hung around his neck like a noose.

The guys didn’t want to talk about it. A silent agreement not to mention their sins. Angie didn’t want to talk about it. Too pissed at him for going in the first place to feel bad for him.

It just stayed inside him, replaying again and again on loop. He needed something to wipe the slate clean, and booze worked.

Not like he was sober before then. Drinking himself blind on the weekends. Fuck, Angie was the same way. Before she got pregnant, anyway. That’s how they ended up meeting, that summer night back in 2018.

He and Benny went to one of their frequent Saturday spots. The bar was crowded and loud, heavy throngs of people attracted by a popular local DJ. Summer heat crept into the air despite the industrial air conditioner running at full blast, Florida’s relentless humidity hung thick in the air, leaving a dewy residue on every surface.

The only thing Frankie could smell was that primal, earthy scent of sweat. He pinched his shirt and pulled it away from his chest with a few quick tugs, trying to get some kind of a breeze going. When he looked around the bar, swathes of exposed skin all surrounded him, people wiping their foreheads and fanning themselves.

He spotted two women sitting at a high-top table, leaning over their drinks and talking to each other. One of them was a pretty, unassuming brunette. The other had glossy black hair that shone in the neon lights, cascading in waves down the open back of her dress. She looked put together and fucking luminous, the way her copper skin seemed to glow. He couldn’t look away.

Benny was in the middle of a sentence when Frankie cut him off, “Holy shit, look at her.”

“What—who?” Benny followed Frankie’s line of sight and guffawed, “Her? She would eat you for fucking breakfast, man.”

“I fucking wish,” Frankie gave Benny this dopey smile, nodding towards them, “You getting a feel on the friend?”

Benny glanced her over and shrugged, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth, “Pretty brunette?”

“Right up your alley, huh?” Frankie grinned, then nudged his friend, “So?”

“Fuck it, why not?” Benny chuckled.

“Atta boy,” Frankie smacked his shoulder a few times, then started off towards the table.

“Hey, how’re you two doing tonight?” he asked as he leaned against the table, looking between the two women, who sized him up scrupulously, “Yeah, uh, my name is Frankie, this is my buddy, Benny. Mind if we join you?”

“Why?” the subject of his desire asked, her big, round eyes searching Frankie’s face.

“Why?” he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Well, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d sell my goddamn soul for an opportunity to talk to you—”

“Oh yeah?” she smirked and tilted her head, bringing the tip of her tongue to her top teeth before shrugging, “Prove it.”

“You—you want it? My soul?” he grinned and leaned closer, “It’s yours, beautiful, for the low, low price of this barstool next to you. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, a dance later?”

“That’s a hell of a deal,” she raised her eyebrows and joked, “For you, I mean.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, “What if I throw in a sweetener? I’ll buy your drinks, too, how’s that sound?”

She scrunched her face up in contemplation, then smiled, “Deal.”

“Yeah?” Frankie beamed, extending his hand to her, and as she took it, he grazed his thumb against her soft skin, “What’s your name?”

“Angie,” she answered, eyebrow quirking as she told him, “This doesn’t mean you’re taking me home tonight, though.”

“Noted,” he smirked, dropping his eyes to her lips, before meeting her gaze, “So what’re you drinking?”

He woke up the next morning in his bed, head spinning, stomach clenching.

Before opening his eyes, he tried to recount the night, following the path of breadcrumbs his memory allowed him. Meeting Angie, taking shots, flirting with her relentlessly, more drinks, dancing with her. Kissing her on the dance floor. The sidewalk slabs uneven beneath his feet on the walk back to his apartment. A woman’s razor sharp giggle as he fumbled to unlock the door.

The mattress shifted beside him and he cracked one eyelid open tentatively, releasing a sigh of relief when he recognized Angie as the person tangled up in his sheets. Traces of the previous night’s makeup still held in tact on her face, oily pools gathering in the soft wrinkles of her forehead and eyes, black mascara clinging to her lashes in clumps and flaking onto her cheeks, a faint red outline where her lipstick was before he kissed it off of her. He rolled on his side towards her and brushed some of the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead.

She hummed and frowned, then took a deep, wakeful breath as her eyes blinked open. They were stunning in the light. Golden streaks like sunbeams stretching from the middle of her iris into a deep, rich brown.

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, “We fucked, didn’t we?”

“That’s what it’s looking like,” he smirked, “How’re you feeling?”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her button nose, “Still drunk.”

“Regret this yet?” he chuckled, half-joking, half-wondering.

“Having sex with a stranger? Yeah, I’m having some regrets,” she scoffed, shaking her head, then threw her hand down at her side. She sighed and studied his face, “You’re cute, though. Kind of wish I could remember it.”

“Ditto,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a shrug, “You know, we could have a do-over. Since we’re already here and regretting it. You could… let me have another chance to, ya know, make a lasting impression.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” her dark eyebrow arched. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She brought her long, red fingernails to his hairline and combed them through his bed head.

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, dropping his gaze to her lips, “Plus, that way, when this hangover inevitably kills me, I’ll die a happy man.”

“Is that right?” she giggled. The sound made his heart sing in harmony.

“That’s right,” he reached out to her under the covers, smoothing his hands along her soft skin, coaxing her closer as he murmured, “What do you think, princesa, hmm?”

“I think,” she wriggled on top of him, the sticky heat of her naked body clinging to his, “I could give you a fighting chance.“

She hovered over him, meeting his eyes for an intoxicating moment before he pulled her lips to his. From there, it was full throttle. Kissing, biting, gasping, moaning. Torrid, frenzied movements that burned bright and hot.

Their relationship took off at break-neck speed.

From that day onward, they were doing nightly sleepovers at each others’ apartments. Every free moment spent with the other, most often spent drinking or fucking. Six days into their relationship, Frankie got a text from some girl he was casually seeing. Angie read it when he was out of the room, then confronted him, resulting in their first drunk screaming match, and, subsequently, their first instance of drunk make-up sex.

She worked at a global manufacturing plant’s central office with hundreds of other carpet-walkers and pencil-pushers as a financial analyst. Her hours often ran long and wound her up tight.

When she would show up at Frankie’s apartment after work, she’d be ready to burst. He’d fix her a drink and listen to her bitch about coworkers and projects and idiots who used reply all instead of reply, waiting for her to ask him anything about his day. She never seemed all that curious about him, though, which irked him.

They did have fun together, when they had sex and went out to bars, but by the end of the second month, he found her presence to be draining. That bug of discontentment wriggled beneath his skin. He realized they had little in common aside from their coping mechanisms and combustibility.

He started to think about breaking things off with Angie, but, by then, it was too late.

“Who would like to go next?” David asks, glancing around the circle of metal folding chairs and their scattered occupants.

Frankie meets his eyes and points his index finger at the ceiling.

“Floor’s yours, Frankie.”

“Thanks,” Frankie nodded and crossed his arms, sitting back in the squeaky chair, “Growing up, my dad wasn’t around much,” his mouth opens, but a thought occurs to him and he chuckles, shaking his head, “There’s one for the AA Meeting Bingo Card, huh?”

This actually earns a few amused grins and a snort of laughter from his peers.

He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees with a shrug, “Anyway. Even when he was living with us, whenever I did see him, he had a beer in his hand. And I thought it was normal, like everyone’s dad went to the bar every night, so I didn’t think much of it. I’m not sure when that changed. When I started to notice, I mean, that it wasn’t normal.

“When I’d go to my friend’s house, I thought they were… I dunno, fucking weird? Because they sat around the dinner table and talked to each other while they ate. And—and they didn’t seem afraid of their dad. Like, they didn’t have to walk on eggshells when he was around, which made me… uncomfortable, I guess,” he grimaces and shakes his head, “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up. But, anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that, to me, my dad’s behavior was normal.

“There would be times when he would come home and be three sheets to the goddamn wind, and he’d yell and throw shit, and my ma, she would lock me in my bedroom and tell me not to come out. Said my dad wasn’t feeling well,” he crinkles his nose and shrugs, “They split when I was twelve. And I don’t blame her for leaving him, I really don’t, but… I didn’t see him again until I got out of basic.”

He stops and leans back, taps his fingers on his kneecaps, then crosses his arms. A knot tightens in his throat when he remembers that day. Knocking on the door of his dad’s shitty apartment in Orlando. When it swung open, Frankie barely recognized him.

Seven years left to his own devices aged him decades. Deep wrinkles carved into his droopy forehead. His nose and cheeks were darkened and bumpy, like he had a pubescent case of acne. He looked Frankie over with glossy, barely-there eyes and slurred, “There’s my boy! Hey, come in, Francisco, come in!”

Frankie’s stomach soured when the words hit his face, thick and swollen with whiskey. A warning signal that laid dormant in his veins for years reawakened, gushing hot and electric beneath his staticky skin.

His father turned and started waddling into the apartment, so Frankie followed him, closing the door left wide open behind him. The apartment was threadbare. A dingy beige couch sat on one side of the living room, facing a small antennaed tv propped up on a milk crate. Some blonde news anchor chattered on the tv, but the gurgling buzz of the air conditioning unit effectively muted her. In lieu of a proper dining room setup, his father had a folding chair tucked into a card table, which was cluttered by piles of unopened envelopes and empty beer cans.

While the stranger pulled two beer cans out of his fridge, Frankie managed to stitch some words together, “So, how’ve you been, Dad?”

He didn’t seem to hear his question, just held one aluminum can across the countertop to his son, “You’re a real man now, huh? Have a beer with me, Francisco.”

Frankie took a few steps forward and went to lean onto the counter, but decided against it when he realized how sticky the surface was. He accepted the beer and opened it.

“It’s been too long, my boy, too long. What has it been, four years?”

“Seven,” Frankie corrected, averting his gaze to a tower of dirty dishes emerging from cloudy, gray water in the sink. The wet, bacterial, rotting stench made his nose crinkle.

“Ah, well. I’m, well…” he trailed off and swallowed three big gulps of beer, then grinned, “So, Special Forces, huh?”

“Yeah, I—”

“I’m proud of you, Francisco.”

Frankie’s head jerked backwards and he met his dad’s dark eyes, “Wh-what?”

“Takes discipline,” he responded, nodding, “I’m proud of you. Your mom, she did a good job with you.”

And he wanted to say a million different things. He wanted to say thank you and I love you and I forgive you and I hate you and fuck you. He wanted to yell: No thanks to you, you drunk old bastard. You woman-beating fucking coward. A different part of him wanted to cry: Why did you abandon me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Am I good enough now?

But when he licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond, his dad shuffled off into the sad living room, changing the subject.

Frankie shakes his head and sighs, then looks around the room, “When Angie got pregnant, I vowed I’d never be like him. I—I wanted to be there for my kid, to be better than he was to me, and give my child a better life than I had.

“Ang and I don’t always, um… see eye-to-eye. We have our problems. I’m trying to make it work, but I’m just so,” the word catches in his throat and burns behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath, swallows, and admits, “I’m so scared it’s not going to work. And Ang will take her. And I’ll end up just like him.”

He clears his throat, then takes another wide, cleansing breath before starting again.

“The only things I’ve ever been any good at are being a soldier and being a dad,” he says, staring at the floor, “It’s hard enough only seeing her a few times a week right now. I fucking hate it. I hate not being there when she wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, and not watching Happy Feet with her twice a day, and not cuddling on the couch with her in the morning,” his stomach clenches and he feels a swell of tears starting behind his eyes, but continues, “The only thing getting me through this right now is knowing that it’s temporary. But if it doesn’t work with Angie, and I lose Sarah, I lose fucking everything. And I—I fucking can’t do that. I won’t.”

Frankie buries his face in his hands and feels a sob bubble up his throat. The echo of his crying returns to his ears and he becomes acutely aware of the other people in the room. That hardened part of his brain scolds him, growling at him to fucking get it together. He pushes the chair out behind him and keeps his head down as he walks out of the room, muttering, “I need a minute.”

When your shitty old car pulls into the hotel parking lot, Frankie is still outside pacing, trying to gather the courage to go back inside and face the group.

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts towards it. You furrow your brow at him through your cracked windshield. When he opens the car door and sits down, you ask, “Why aren’t you in there?”

“It’s fine,” he frowns and pulls his seatbelt over his chest, locking it in place, “Got out early.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then scoff, “Bullshit. What happened?”

“Nothing—”

“Oh my god, Frankie, come on,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, searching his face, “You’re all flustered right now—”

“I am not,” he protests.

“You’re such a liar, you are flus-tered,” you blink at him with authority, raising one eyebrow, “All jittery, and your eyes look red—did you cry? Is that it?”

It’s irritating how well you know him.

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window, muttering against his fingers, “Can we just go?”

“It’s ok, you know, to cry,” you say quietly.

His leg starts bouncing and his jaw gnashes from one side to the other.

Like you’re one to talk.

Like you don’t go out of your way to hide from him every time tears pool in your eyes.

“Hey,” you coo and tug on his hand. He lets you take it, interlacing his fingers with yours. The contact makes his heart skip a beat. When he looks over at you, your brows are threaded together, earnest eyes searching his face, “You’re not the first person to cry in AA, I promise. They’re there to support you. Give them a chance to help.”

He glances up at the hotel’s exit and sees a few people from the meeting filing out, and shrugs, “It’s over now, anyways.”’

“Did you get your paper signed?”

“No.”

“C’mon, at least get credit for your work,” you smirk, squeezing his hand, “I’m sure they’ll understand why you left.”

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face, “Fine.”

“Atta boy,” you grin, “Do you want me to come with or do you got this?”

“I got this,” he flashes a weak smile, and has to hold himself back from bringing the back of your hand to his lips.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the vehicle, nodding at a few familiar faces as he makes his way back into the building to the conference room.

In the room, a few people are putting away chairs or talking in small, quiet groups. David stands by the snack table, signing off on someone’s attendance form. Frankie lines up behind them and avoids David’s gaze when it’s his turn to hand over the attendance sheet.

“That was really vulnerable, what you shared with us today,” David tells Frankie as he unfolds the form.

His nostrils flare and he scoffs, “I thought I was supposed to share things.”

David frowns as he signs off on the paper, shaking his head, “It’s a compliment. Being vulnerable is good, and I appreciate your vulnerability.”

“Oh,” Frankie shifts his weight to one leg and frowns, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, of course,” David hands the form back, and when Frankie takes it, he can tell David is gearing up to say more. His face grows more solemn. He pushes the wire frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, “I know how conflicting it is being an alcoholic father with an alcoholic father. It’s hard to know if you’re doing the right thing. Being apart from them is hell, even if it’s when you’re doing something to make yourself better. I just wanted to let you know that I get it.”

Frankie nods, searching the man’s face, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” David flashes a polite smile, then turns to the snack table and starts picking things up.

When the two of you get home, Frankie goes into your bedroom to haul the TV back to its normal spot in the living room.

He finds himself lingering at the foot of the bed, staring at the side he slept in last night. At the covers, still drawn back from when he woke for work this morning. At the stuffed panda bear you set in his place at some point today.

My place.

He needs to stop thinking like that. It’s not his place. It can’t be his place.

Not permanently, anyway.

Part of him feels guilty for not leaving once you fell asleep. Staying was pure self-indulgence, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it was for your benefit.

It can’t become a habit.

But all weekend he wanted to hold you. To feel your beating heart and shallow, wheezy breath against his body. Proof that you were still here, after seeing you gasping for air, lips tinged blue, eyes wide with fear.

In his life, he’s faced a lot of scary and uncertain situations. Situations that threatened his own life and that of people he cares about. But this… this was different. At least in combat scenarios, he had training and experience to guide him.

This weekend he felt powerless.

If he had to quantify the terror, he was at maximum capacity. Never been so fucking afraid in his life. He felt so helpless, he folded his hands and bowed his head at your hospital bedside, reaching out to something or someone in hushed whispers, pleading for your recovery.

So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone in your bed last night. Not when you fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest, curled up at his side.

The answer to his prayers.

When he was sure you were sleeping, he pressed his lips to your forehead and told you what he’s only barely been able to admit to himself.

In a million different ways, I’ve always loved you.

It was indulgent. Undisciplined.

But mostly, it was a relief.

Even if his words fell on your sleeping ears.

Even if he can probably never tell you again.

With a heavy sigh, he follows the TV’s power cord to the wall and unplugs it. He freezes when he spots something on the floor next to your dresser. You cough at the other end of the house, and he glances over his shoulder just to make sure you’re not around before he picks it up.

A pile of soft teal lace. Your underwear.

He brings them to his nose and inhales, the familiar scent inspiring a deep, heated churn at the base of his spine. Without another thought, he shoves them in the front pocket of his jeans, then unplugs the TV.

Frankie settles on the couch with a groan, then glances over to where you’re curled up into a little ball and asks, “Were you able to get some rest today?”

You nod and your mouth stretches into a yawn, then you murmur, “Still kind of feel like shit, though. Hopefully it’s better by Wednesday.”

“Oh yeah, how’re your kids doing?”

“Marla said they’re doing better, getting back to their normal selves. Em’s going back to school tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” he leans back and spreads out in his corner of the couch, “You like it, working for them?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “They’re sweet kids. Whole different vibe than Sarah, though,” you glance at him and chuckle, “Don’t tell anybody, but she was my favorite.”

A grin stretches across Frankie’s face. He presses his fingertips to his lips and looks over at you, “She is pretty great, huh?”

“The best,” you agree, a wistful smile playing on your lips, “I hope that when I, um,“ you falter here, smile dropping. You clear your throat and shake your head, “Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Are you guys doing anything fun tomorrow?”

“Not sure yet. Angie, um… yeah, I don’t know,” he frowns at his knee as it starts to bounce, “She’s pissed at me. So probably, you know, dealing with that.”

“Because you skipped out on Saturday?”

He nods, and when you don’t say anything, he glances over at you, “It’s fine, though, she’ll get over it.”

“Sure,” you smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Have things been going ok outside of that?”

“Aside from the alcoholism, my pending felony, and the fact that I’m living with another woman?” he snorts, “Things are going great.”

“Don’t forget the affair,” you tease.

“Mmm, you mean the isolated incident?” he corrects, rolling his head on his shoulders to look at you.

You scoff and shake your head, “Wow. Yeah, isolated. Sure. Just a mistake, right?”

He searches your face, watching your eyes go dim and your jaw clench, and furrows his brow, “N-no, that’s not—“

You clamp your lips closed with your teeth, like you’re holding yourself back, then open your mouth anyway, “That’s what you tell her, though, right?” you blink, “It was a mistake, it meant nothing to you, it’ll never happen again, blah blah blah?”

His jaw hangs slack and throat croaks as he tries to yield some kind of truth that will both spare your feelings and help him evade scrutiny, “I’m—sorry.”

It’s all he can come up with.

You roll your eyes and sigh, then mutter, “Whatever,” before turning your attention back to the TV.

The silence that settles is tense. It writhes beneath his skin and trickles into his stomach, twisting it into knots.

You start to wriggle in your seat, like it’s bothering you, too. He can feel a jagged energy rolling off your body, and, predictably, you break.

“If you ever want things to actually work with her, you’re going to have to come clean,” you huff, then glare at him, “You know that right? That you can’t just lie to her forever? There’s no way she fucking believes you.”

Frankie sighs, picking his hat off his head to run a hand through his hair, “Can we not?”

“Sure, we can just not,” you snip and sit up straight, crossing your arms across your chest, “We can just pretend things are cool and groovy and you can get your life back and I can fuck off into oblivion.”

“Jesus Christ—”

“Well, fuck, that’s what you want, right, Frankie?” you stare at him, “You’ll be nice to me while you’re here, and cuddle with me, and hold my hand, and what the fuck ever, but when this arrangement is over, then what?”

“I don’t fucking know, ok?!” he snaps, then stands and starts pacing the living room, shaking his head, “I don’t know if—if I’m going to fucking prison, or if I’m going to lose my job, or if my wife will fucking divorce me and take my daughter away—”

Frankie stops and turns away from you, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. A few quiet seconds go by as he gathers himself and wrangles the burgeoning tears back into his skull. When he turns back around, he throws his hands out at his side, then lets them fall loose, “I don’t know what anything will look like after this,” he meets your glossy eyes, all wide and pained, and tells you in a hoarse, shaky voice, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you for so long. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I fucking—I fucking hurt you and I understand that.”

He takes a few steps forward. Your eyes, pooling with tears, stay glued his, following seamlessly when he crouches down in front of you and pleads, “I’m trying to be better, I swear to god I’m fucking trying. I—I care about you a lot. And I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer for what you and me will look like after this ‘situation’ is over with, because I have no fucking clue what anything will look like.”

You swallow hard and nod, then drop your gaze as your face crumbles. A sob bubbles up your throat and quickly devolves into a coughing fit.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, glancing around. He spots your inhaler on the coffee table and hands it to you, “Need this?”

You take it and inhale a few puffs of albuterol. When your breathing evens out, blink the tears from your eyes and croak out, “Sorry.”

He reaches up and smudges a fat, swollen tear on your cheek with his thumb, “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

A pained expression crosses your face. You lean away from his touch, so he sits down beside you as you exhale a thick sigh and look around the room.

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell Angie everything. I just—” one of your cheeks pulls in like you’re gnawing at the inside. You release it and tell him, “I just hate the idea of you saying we were a mistake. I don’t know. Is that dumb?”

Your eyes flick to his and they’re so sincere, his stomach flips upside down. He shakes his head, “No, that’s not dumb.”

“Ok,” you sniffle, nodding as you look at the TV, “Ok.”

A minute goes by, each second amplifying the buzz beneath his skin. He looks over and realizes you’re squished against the armrest of the couch, curled up in a tense knot of limbs, brow furrowed, biting at your lip.

“Hey,” he coos, beckoning you closer, “Come here.”

You give him this kind of pathetic, kind of cute pout, but accept the invitation. As he wraps an arm around your shoulders, you drape your legs across his lap, rest your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and tucks you into an embrace.

Maybe it’s one-sided, but Frankie feels heat humming between your bodies.

The floral, minty scent of your hair, mixing with the musk of your soft skin, all dewy from humidity. Your breath rolling hot across the column of his throat.

You wriggle closer, and the weight of your body settles between his legs. Presses firm down on his half-hard cock.

His insides twist with a nagging, all-consuming want. The kind that usually fogs his brain when he thinks about booze. It claws at him like an animal caged within his ribs. Teeth bared, ferocious, growing: I need her I need her I need her

In the same cadence it always howls: I need a drink I need a drink I need a drink

The tips of his fingers scrape against your shoulder. A little whimper sneaks out your throat and drips down his spine. Your muscles shift and he can feel your lips hovering over his thudding pulse.

This is dangerous. This is a line. A tightrope teetering beneath the soles of his feet.

You breathe his name and it grazes his neck. His body surges with desire, cock throbbing, and he’s unable to stop the whine that croaks out his lips.

He looks down at you, meeting your darkened, heavy-lidded gaze. You study each other, but neither of you move, despite the palpable current of electricity between you.

“I—I should go to bed,” you whisper with little conviction, eyes darting to his mouth.

“It’s still light out,” he says, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek.

You shiver and your lips part, panting, “I need to clear my head—I’m… not thinking right.”

Frankie imagines you clearing your head in your bedroom with the door closed. Your fingers working between your legs, eyes pinched closed while you flip through the mental catalogue of all the times he’s fucked you.

“Can I come with you?” he asks, voice ragged, “I won’t—I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You search his face, brows pushing together, and nod.

This is stupid.

You both know it.

But he follows you to your room and closes the door behind him.

Sinks into your bed as you lay out on the other side.

You start slow, hands roaming the curves of your body. Over your tight tank top, no bra underneath, just the clear outline of your nipples. Along the middle of those little cotton sleep shorts he likes so much.

He keeps his distance, blood pounding thick in his skull, as you ruck your shirt up your chest and roll a hardened bud between your fingers. You whimper and bite down on your bottom lip, eyes locking to his as your other hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts.

In his periphery, he can see the outline of your wrist flicking under the fabric, but he can’t part his eyes from yours. It’s entrancing. Your mouth opens in a moan, lips pouting out into a whimper as you start to gain traction.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, pushing his palm against his swollen length trapped within the confines of his jeans, begging for attention. He unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants off. At the same time, you pull your shorts down. Some sort of silent trade agreement.

Frankie wraps his hand around his cock and drags his grip down, pulling the sensitive, aching skin taught. His palm is dry and rough as he starts to rut up and down, but the friction gives his touch an edge that makes him shiver.

You’re watching him do this while you trail your fingertips along the shiny ridges of your sex. Saliva pools in his mouth when he remembers what you taste like. Imagines his tongue tracing the soft folds of you.

Your hips buck and you whimper when you touch your clit. You roll the pads of your fingers against the engorged bundle of nerves, eyelids fluttering as you work yourself.

You both find a steady rhythm, panting and whining, glancing between each other's legs, hands, eyes. The increasingly frantic movements make your bed squeak.

The two of you are so lost in the haze of pleasure, Frankie knows either of you could suggest physical contact between your bodies and the other would immediately say yes, but this fucked up little loophole has you both blissfully dangling on the precipice.

He’s trying to keep his commentary to a minimum, but you’re driving him fucking crazy.

Your blown-out pupils watching him fuck his hand. The sheen of sweat lacing your skin. A thick, gleaming layer of arousal coating your pussy and fingers. He wants to lick it off of you, taste you, drive his cock inside you and feel that divine squeeze.

As his heartbeat starts to gallop and the fire in his belly laps its way up his spine, he pants, “You’re so fucking hot, holy shit—do you like this? Like me watching you get off?”

“Yes,” you gasp, meeting his gaze, working yourself faster, “I do, Frankie, I like it.”

His name on your lips is like an electric jolt to his insides. He groans, “Say my name again.”

“Frankie,” you whimper.

A wave of heat washes over him, “Fuck yes, that’s so fucking good, baby—say it again—”

“Frankie,” you moan, sinking two fingers into your cunt, a sick wet sound squelching out as you start to fuck yourself.

“Such a good girl, holy fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, pumping himself faster, lightning churning in his belly, “Gonna make yourself cum, sweet girl?”

You nod feverishly, face pinched up with pleasure, hips arching into your touch, “Frankie—fuck fuck fuck—”

“There we go, baby, you can do it,” he rasps, and watches as your movements come to a fever pitch, then your body starts to shudder and you belt out this strangled moan that pushes him over the edge.

Pleasure ripples through him and he grinds his fist down a few more times, pulsing his load all over his hand, across the bedding, a few splatters reaching your hip. He groans and slows.

His muscles start to melt. He throws his head back into the pillow, then rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you.

Your chest is heaving and you’re all blissed out, a hazy smile on your lips.

“You’re not gonna freak out, now, are you?” he pants, searching your face. He reaches over and gives you a playful poke to show he’s only half-joking.

You meet his eyes smirking for a beat before you chuckle, “I don’t think so, but—could you get my, umm—inhaler?”

“Yeah,” he nods and rolls off the bed.

When Frankie returns, you’re pulling your shirt down over your tits and propping yourself up on some pillows.

“Thanks,” you murmur, then take it from him and inhale a few puffs.

“You ok?” he asks as he rolls onto the bed next to you, wrestling a pillow under his chest.

A coy smile plays on your lips when you glance over at him, shaking your head, “This was really dumb.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Probably.”

“Fuck,” you giggle, burying your face in your hands, “Frankie, why did we do that?”

“Because we’re big dumb idiots?” he laughs.

“Speak for yourself,” you snort, curling up on your side to face him.

“Sure, yeah, of course. You’re super smart,” he teases, pointing between him and you, “This is definitely something that smart people do.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you push his shoulder weakly. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you say, “We’re never going to speak of this again, are we?”

He opens his mouth to make a joke and attempt to sweep it all under the rug, but stops when he realizes it probably warrants a conversation.

“Do—is that what you wanna do?” he asks instead, stammering, “Because we can, you know, talk about it if you want to.“

“I don’t know what I want,” you sigh, your face folding into a thoughtful expression. A few moments pass, then your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him, “Ok, this is a weird time to ask this, but, I meant to ask you earlier and forgot.”

He nods, “Shoot.”

“My sister is getting married over Labor Day weekend, and because I’m her bridesmaid and family and blah blah blah, she wants me to go stay out there for the week, and umm, I don’t know how that works with your parole and stuff—”

“Do you want me to ask Ralph tomorrow?”

“Well, yeah,” you meet his eyes, “But—but also, can you come with me?”

It takes a moment for Frankie to register the question, and when he understands, his mind starts whirring with uncertainty. Angie. Court. Ralph. Sarah. Prison.

“Not, like, as my date or whatever,” you add, waving your hand around nervously as you explain, “I just–I haven’t been home in years because my family is the worst and I—” you sigh, face pinching up as you admit, “I could use a friend.”

That makes up his mind.

“Yeah,” he answers, “Yeah, as long as I’m not in fucking jail by then, I’ll make it work. Let me… let me talk to work and Ralph, see what I can do.”

You give him a restrained smile and say, “Thank you.”

After the two of you decide to get dressed and watch a movie, he goes into his bedroom to change into a pair of basketball shorts, while you supervise a packet of popcorn in the microwave. Giving his closed door a quick glance, he pulls the bundle of soft teal lace out of his pocket and opens a dresser drawer to tuck them away, but pauses when his thumb grazes something damp.

His brows furrow, then shoot up as he unfolds the underwear and recognizes the slick substance coating them. He brings the fabric to his nose and inhales, confirming his suspicion.

You must have noticed them when he was getting your inhaler. And rather than taking the panties back, or saying anything to him, you cleaned your arousal off and replaced them.

He grins at the present, because that’s what it is, really, then shoves the lace into his dresser drawer.

“Daddy, look, that’s Mumble,” Sarah tells Frankie, pointing one chubby, blueberry-stained finger at a plastic baby emperor penguin.

Her collection of penguins is lined up on the edge of the dining room table, in order of smallest to biggest. She wriggles around on his lap, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, waiting for acknowledgement.

“That one does look like Mumble,” he agrees emphatically, “What kind of penguin is he?”

“A empreror penguin!” she beams, throwing her hands in the air.

“That’s right,” he chuckles, “An emperor penguin! How many penguins do you have?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the exciting new challenge, and she turns her attention to the plastic figurine lineup, counting each one out loud.

Frankie glances across the table at Angie. She‘s glaring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Ang,” he rumbles, but she doesn’t respond. A hot wave of frustration weaves through his muscles and pulls them taught. His nostrils flare and he shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever.”

The dining room chair scrapes against the floor as she pushes it out and stomps out of the room, down the stairs like a petulant child.

Sarah stops counting and tells him, “Mommy’s mad.”

He chuckles softly at this and nods, “Yeah, I think so. I’m gonna go talk to her, ok, sweetie?”

Sarah resumes her counting when Frankie stands and sets her in the chair. He finds Angie in the laundry room, folding clothes with sharp, agitated movements.

“Can we talk about this?” he asks. She doesn’t acknowledge him, so he continues, “Angelica. Come on. You haven’t said a word to me since I texted you on Saturday. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong is exactly what’s fucking wrong, Francisco,” she growls.

He sighs and steps closer, leaning one hip against the washer, “As much as I would love to be able to, I can’t read your mind. So if you could help me out, maybe give me a clue—”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” she snaps, tossing the small pink t-shirt in her hands into a laundry basket.

His head jerks back and he scoffs, “Sure.”

“You passed up time with your wife and daughter to be with your fucking mistress,” she blinks, then throws her hands up in the air, “Is it really so fucking inconceivable that I’m mad about that?”

“First of all, she’s not my mistress,” Frankie asserts, crossing his arms, “Second, she almost fucking died, Ang, I couldn’t just leave her alone in the hospital.”

“So, what, she didn’t have anyone else that could come sit with her in the hospital?” Angie snorts, raising an eyebrow, “I was about to say she’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself, but,” she sucks on her teeth and flashes him a faux sympathetic smile, “That’s barely true, isn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, then stares at her, “You know that’s not true, and—and no, ok? She didn’t have anyone else to sit at the hospital with her. None of her family made it out, she doesn’t have any friends. Her boyfriend didn’t even come to visit, so,” he pushes off the washing machine and pinches the bridge of his nose, then drops his hand and lies, “I felt fucking bad for her, that’s all. She couldn’t breathe and was all sick and shit, and nobody cared enough to visit her. It was, I don’t know, it was sad and I felt shitty about leaving.”

She seems to consider this, then gives a little shrug, “That is kind of sad.”

He nods, searching her face, dark eyebrows all scrunched together in contemplation.

“She has a boyfriend?”

He nods, “Yeah. They’ve been together for a while.”

Not exactly a lie, but he can tell a little truth stretching will bring this conversation to a more comfortable place.

“I missed you,” he says in a pleading tone, meeting her eyes, hoping she buys it.

She sighs, “I missed you too.”

The glint in her eyes tells him it’s safe to approach, so he does. He presses his lips against her forehead, closing his eyes as he murmurs, “I love you.”

When Frankie gets home, you and Rory are sitting on the couch watching a movie together. His arm is draped over your shoulders and you’re huddled in his lap, head on his chest.

It reminds him of how the two of you are when no one else is around.

His blood pressure spikes and heats his veins. You perk up as you notice him, putting space between your body and Rory’s. A nervous smile spreads across your face. He doesn’t return the smile, just nods in greeting as he closes the door behind him, “Hey.”

Rory looks him up and down, then turns back to the TV.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask.

Frankie frowns and shrugs, “Fine. What’re you guys watching?”

Your phone starts ringing before you can answer. You sit up and grab it off the coffee table, muttering, “It’s my sister, I’ll be right back,” then tiptoe through the house to your bedroom, leaving him and Rory alone.

Frankie steps on the heel of his boot and starts to wriggle his foot free.

“Hey, man, I wanted to tell you—thanks for looking after her last weekend.”

Frankie glances up at Rory as he kicks one boot off, then the other, “Sure, yeah,” then starts off towards his room. Rory keeps talking, though, so he pauses.

“When she didn’t respond to me for a day I figured, ya know…” he shrugs, staring at him.

Frankie frowns and shakes his head, “Figured what?”

“Figured she ran off with you, man,” he chuckles, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re studying.

Frankie snorts and brings his hands to his hips, “What, really?”

Rory stands and saunters over, looking the way you left to make sure you’re still occupied, then tucks his hands in the front of his jean pockets and shrugs again, “Seems like y’all are pretty close. She doesn’t really like to talk about you. Kinda weird for someone who’s supposedly a friend.”

What kind of macho man bullshit is this? Is he… flexing?

“Yeah, she’s pretty private,” Frankie searches the other man’s face.

“Y’all ever fuck around?” he asks.

Frankie jerks his head back and frowns, “Uhh, sorry, what?”

Rory doesn’t say anything, just lets the air between them grow more hostile, flicking his eyes around Frankie’s face like a challenge. One that he’s not fucking interested in taking. Christ, what a fucking mess that would be.

Frankie scoffs and shakes his head, “No, we don’t fuck around. We’re friends. Ok?” He holds his hands up and tries to soften his face, “So, take it easy, she’s all yours.”

Rory seems to relax a little, then says, “Alright.”

“Alright,” Frankie chuckles with amusement, “We good?”

“Yeah,” Rory grins, offering a clenched fist to Frankie, “Sorry, man.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he bumps knuckles with the meathead and tells him, “You two have a good time, alright?”

Frankie retreats to his room and locks the door behind him.

Every muscle in his body starts to deflate.

His thoughts are fuzzy and loud.

He starts for his bed, but pauses, and turns instead to the dresser, thinking of that teal lace.

Today is one of those rare July days where it’s not just tolerable to be outside, it’s actually enjoyable.

A slight breeze rustles the palm fronds above. The sun kisses Frankie’s skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a neighbor’s charcoal grill.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He cracks an eye open to find you standing over where he’s laying in the hammock and grins innocently, “What?”

“WhAt?” you mock him and snort, but pull up a chair and drop your little wicker basket in its seat, warning, “Ok, well, you’re sharing the hammock, at least.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he tucks a hand behind his head and watches you roll into the hammock facing him.

You wriggle around for an entire minute, and when he starts to giggle at your restlessness, you whine, “Oh my god, scoot over.”

“Here,” he murmurs, shifting his weight so you lay roughly hip to hip, hooking one arm under your legs, “Better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your body calms.

Then it’s quiet.

And the silence isn’t anything but peaceful, really.

“This is good,” you say eventually.

He’s not sure what this you’re referring to, but he agrees, “Yeah.”

You point to the sky, “That cloud looks like a gator.”

Frankie squints upward, examining the fluffy cotton balls hanging in the electric blue atmosphere, “That one looks like a cloud.”

A snort erupts from your face and you lay a playful smack on his thigh, “Oh, come on, use your imagination!”

“Ok, let’s see,” he clears his throat and tilts the bill of his hat back to take in more of the view. Then one catches his eye. He points to it, “Butterfly.”

You follow his direction and murmur, “Oh yeah, look at that. Neat.”

He studies it for a while, watching the two wings tumble and morph as it moves across the sky, until it’s just another nondescript cumulus cloud. Then he turns his attention to the basket you brought outside.

The hammock wobbles in protest when he sits up and lays it across the middle ground of your bodies. Frankie surveys the contents of the shallow wicker basket: a baguette; a dish of soft, white cheese with a little spatula-like knife sticking out the center; a bowl of red grapes and sliced strawberries; a couple of mandarin oranges.

He rips off a piece of bread and spreads some cheese across the soft inside, then sits back and takes a bite. You do the same, topping the cheese with some strawberries. As the two of you eat in a content silence, looking up at the sky, Frankie starts to ruminate on the confrontation that is surely lingering on the tip of your tongue.

Neither of you have dared to mention how you got off together in your bed. Surprisingly, it hasn’t changed the energy between him and you. But he’s found himself wondering if he’s just oblivious and unable to sense your disquiet, like he has in the past.

And now, since it’s Family Dinner, State of the Union, or whatever Ralph calls it, he braces himself for impact.

“Alright, let me have it,” he says after he finishes his second chunk of bread, nerves getting the best of him, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

The hammock shifts unsteadily as you sit up and put the basket back on the chair, then you lay back and stretch out, releasing a heavy sigh, “Honestly… I kind of don’t know what to say about it. I—I don’t know. I don’t feel different or have any kind of strong feelings about what happened.”

Frankie hums and looks over at you, watching your serene, skyward face.

“What about you? How do you feel?” you ask, leveling your gaze with his.

“I feel… the same,” he answers, frowning, “Like I should have a strong feeling, but I—I just don’t?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, shrugging, “Well, I don’t know, should we just… leave it?”

Relief washes over him and he nods, “I’m ok with that if you are.”

“Ok,” you grin, then look back up at the sky, “Anything else you need to get off your chest?”

Frankie rifles through his brain, pausing to think about Rory and the odd confrontation that happened the other day. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But, he shakes his head, “No. You?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“Alright,” he inhales the blissful breeze that tickles his sun-warmed skin, then exhales, repeating your earlier sentiment, “This is good.”

[ Next Chapter ]

#designated person #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales angst #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal

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findafight · 1 year

Text

Au idea I'll probably never write:

Steve as seven au, BUT he escapes at the same time as El in season 1. They get separated after Benny's, when seven tells eleven to run and definitely kills a couple government agents to give her more time.

So the a plot of will being missing and Mike finding El? Standard canon except El is ALSO looking for her brother and is worried about him. She sees that he's mostly safe and tries to help find will but also insists she go to her brother soon.

B plot of barb and Nancy...idk I haven't really thought about how that'd work without Steve's kickback. Maybe they go to a party (like actual party not the five person hangout) together and get separated and no one notices barb disappear from the edge of the lawn. Idk

The C plot is seven, kinda bloody and definitely cold, wandering out into the middle of the street, and one Robin Buckley almost running him over with her bike. She immediately clocks "guy who seems pretty fucked up" about him, and offers him a ride to her house. But Robin has never been the most coordinated of people and biking with a(admittedly probably too skinny) teenage boy sitting in her package rack is hard, and combine that with a guy driving like the devil's after him, they end up swerving of the road.

Eddie steps out, apologizes profusely, and offers them a ride. seven is sceptical, especially when both of them pause when he tells them his name, but does end up in the van. He finally gets a chance to breathe once they get to the Buckleys', and Robin gets him some leftovers.

He sits in front of the tv set to a blank station, tucks his head into his shirt instead of blindfolds, and tries to see El.

He sees her older, with flowers braided through long hair, laughing. Too far. He sees her with short curls, a patterned button down, eating something in a cone beside a mustachioed man. Too far again. He sees her tiny, scared, holding his own small hand. Not far enough.

Finally, finally, he sees her as she knows her now, mostly, standing beside a group of children and in front of a monster in a large room.

Eddie and Robin have no idea why their new friend? Has turned the tv on to static and is hiding in his shirt, but figure he's had a rough day. He pops his head back out, blood dripping from his nose, and grins, telling them he knows where his sister will be.

Anyways blah blah blah El sees where people ARE Steve sees where people have been/will be (based on where/who they are right now. Futura is constantly in motion etc).

Idk season 2 would happen very similar as canon minus stancy break up (they never date and are just friends) (also Steve tells Robin and Eddie he and El are safe and they pass it on to the kids) El finds Kali, Steve fights demodogs, etc etc.

But I want a (pre?) season 3 scene where Robin and Steve are hanging out as soulmates do, door closed because they are discussing Sensitive Subjects (gay shit) and giggling like schoolgirls. Hopper, in all his disappointed dad glory, opens the door and starts in on a rant about keeping the door open three inches.

Steve, bitch that he is, just tilts his head to the side and says "but that is for when we are with people we date. I am not dating Robin."

Hopper, not yet picking up what's happening, sighs. "Kid. It's about propriety. You can't be alone with Robin, because what if you do start dating. Then it's. You have to set an example for El!"(it would be a nice move bringing up Older Brother Responsibility, except...well.)

"but we aren't. I am dating someone else?"

"still need the door open three inches, pal. When El is home, at least"(El is almost always home)

"we do! And you complain about the loud music!"

"wait. Who are you dating? I thought Nancy was dating Jonathan still. She barely comes over." Hopper please pick up what Steve is putting down oh my god.

(hop has forgotten Robin is there and she is trying very hard not to make noise but Steve keeps meeting her eye sometimes because dear god. truly an iconic moment in friendship history.)

"yeah obviously. Eddie comes over all the time, though."

"what does Ed- oooh. Ah. I see. That's why you keep the door open even though he complains."

Steve nods like Hopper is the dumbest man on the planet. He might just be. "Yes. Because you said El had to and she asked why I didn't have to so then I started to leave it open when Eddie was over. At least Eddie doesn't laugh at you to your face"

"Eddie laughs behind my back?"

"he said you didn't know we were dating but I told him of course you knew, the door is open three inches."

Hopper clasps Steve's shoulders and looks him in the eye. "Steve, I need you to keep telling him that. And not mention this very awkward conversation we had."

"because he was right."

"he doesn't need to know that."

That's all I got lmao (also check the tag ramble I added lol)

#steve Harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #el hopper #platonic stobin #steddie #steve and el #steve and hopper #steve is seven #finda writes stuff #hopper versus his childrens' boyfriends and his ongoing mission to have SOME authority over them #but anyway i love steve is seven aus but only really see ones where he escapes before el so thought this would be nest #*neat. also i love hopper adopting steve fics hehe #hop goes to joyce after this and is like. okay so he didnt tell me but thats because he thought i knew am i a bad dad #'hop. what are you talking about' 'steve and eddie are dating' 'yeah. what about it' 'i didnt know'#'theyre all over each other' 'so are him and robin! i thought they were just affectionate!' 'oh my god' 'no one else can ever know joyce'#'eddie sleeps over all the time' 'robin does too' 'the nicknames' 'robin calls steve babe' 'the whispering?'#'once AGAIN he and robin ALSO do that. how was i supposed to know he was dating eddie when he and his best friend also do that stuff?!'#'okay. thats fair jim. but what about the kissing' 'joyce.look into my eyes. he also. kisses. robin.' 'are all three of them dating?' 'no'#'huh. on the lips?' 'sometimes. its a playful smack.' 'and eddie?' 'okay admittedly. now that i think about it. very different than Robin

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eternal-kosmo-ghoul · 5 months

Text

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 15. praise kink

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “nice list”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ what a good pet you’ve been… and it looks like secondo has taken notice

pairing: papa secondo x gn!reader

a/n: think of it as a nice contrast to the spanking fic with terzo 🙏

cw: nsfw content. praise kink. pet names (?). sexual tension. secondo flirting. neck kissing. no actual sex happens. idk ahhh

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

“you’ve been so well behaved as of lately.. i should treat you with something special tonight.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

you’ve always been a gentle, kind person.

always remained humble to your peers, and treated your superiors with respect and kindness. some may have called you a pure soul because of your constant kindness, sometimes a goody-two-shoes, but you’d rather remain respectful rather than resentful.

hell, you’d even go as far as to stay away from scandalous activity such as drinking, smoking, or anything that was sexual in nature. it was kind of ironic, considering you were living in a satanic church, surrounded by siblings and demons who constantly followed the narrative of going against standard christian rule— and by that they did anything that wasn’t chaste or pure in nature. you didn’t mind this kind of environment, if anything, it gave you a purpose within the ministry; to be the voice of reason and balance that the church desperately needed to continue running its operations.

that’s when papa emeritus ii, secondo, really started to take a liking to you.

he noticed your hard work. how you’d constantly look after the ghouls and make sure they didn’t tear each other apart. how you always assisted the siblings of sin with their chores, even if some of them gave you nasty attitudes. it’s something he didn’t see so often. why would such a gratifying person be willing to stay in a place such as this? he didn’t think someone like you could even last a day within the ministry.

but he was proven wrong multiple times.

secondo didn’t want this behavior to go unrewarded. no no no, you were probably one of the most loyal followers to date. you deserved some recognition for your hard work.

so that’s exactly what secondo did. right now, he was sitting in his office, tapping a pen against his desk rhythmically. he had called you to his office for a meeting, so now he was just awaiting for your presence, remaining as patient as ever.

right on the dime, the wooden door creaked open after several knocks sounded behind. you peaked your head into the small space, and secondo gave a warm smile, gesturing for you to come inside.

“don’t be shy, dearie. come on in.” secondo reassured. his sudden kindness caught you off guard. the emeritus was usually a lot more reserved, stoic and stern. so this was new.

needless to say, it was refreshing, and nice too. so you nodded and obliged. “oh yes— sorry about that.”

“no need to apologize.”

you closed the door behind you, and made your way to sit on the velvety seat that was positioned across from where secondo sat in his seat. you took a good look around his office. the fireplace was crackling with glowing embers to keep the place cozy and warm. old yule decorations strung up against the walls and ceiling to add a more welcoming feel to it. this kind of environment is truly something you wouldn’t expect from a man like secondo. he was such a commanding presence, you couldn’t help but feel intimidated by him from time to time. even now, it was a little suffocating to be around him.

the emeritus seemed to take notice of your nervousness, and he sighed, a small smile forming on his lips.

“please, don’t be afraid, angel. i promise i don’t bite.” secondo said with a light chuckle. your eyes widened, not realizing how easy it was to read your expression.

“s-sorry, i just got a little nervous.”

“again, no need to apologize. i’m used to people thinking i’m scary.”

a shocked expression took over your face, and you waved your hands to try and correct him. “ohh no no no that’s not what i—“

secondo just laughed at your reaction. “relax, honey. i’m just pulling your leg. no need to get all antsy over it.”

you paused for a moment, and let out a sigh of relief, wiping off invisible sweat from your forehead. “oh thank satan.”

the two of you sat in the office for a brief silence. that was until you decided to break it.

“so… why did you call me to your office? i’m going to assume it’s for something important.”

secondo tilted his head at this, and put his cup down.

“right…” he hummed. “well, i wanted to bring you here for a variety of reasons, mainly regarding your behavior and work within the ministry.”

you gulped at the sound of this. were you in trouble? no, you couldn’t be. you did too much a of a good job to be.

secondo then continued.

“you’ve always exceeded above and beyond my expectations with your resilience. you live in a place of sin, yet you don’t give into temptation, which is… baffling, but noble. you keep your morale levelheaded, and use it to help aid the ghouls and other siblings of sin. and through it all, you’ve kept your kindhearted nature.” all of his words were filled with praise and admiration for your work. it truly touched your heart. you weren’t expecting it, but it was… lovely.

“i… i don’t know what to say other than.. thank you.” you spoke bashfully, truly pleased by the recognition of your efforts.

“my pleasure.” he smiled. “a little birdie also told me that you’re preparing gifts for all of your peers for this year’s christmas. is that right?”

you nodded at this. “yes i am.”

secondo nodded. he got up from his seat and slowly walked around his desk to approach you. you yourself remained seated.

“hmmm.. and no one is getting you a gift, i assume?”

your heart skipped a bit from this. “well… i don’t mind. as long as my other peers are getting presents then—“

he cut you off before you could speak further.

“no no no. that just won’t do. you do a lot for our family, you deserve something in return.” secondo said with a more low, smooth voice. his body made its way behind the chair you were sitting on, and his hands moved to gently grip your shoulders.

the sudden contact made you gasp, but the warmth of his hands felt nice on your body. he then leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“you’ve been so good, doll face. you surely deserve more than what you get.” he whispered huskily, being sure to rub your shoulders in a way that had you squirming and panting. “and you deserve it all too, deserve praise and support for what you do… ohh i’ll be sure to give it to you.”

you tried to speak up, but secondo’s sudden flirty behavior made your voice sound meek. “s-secondo—“

“tell you what.” he started. “your gift from me will be some nice, old fashioned… loving. to show you how appreciated you are within this ministry, by me.”

your breath hitched. you could feel secondo nipping at your neck with soft, tender kisses, occasionally sucking on the skin. you sighed heavenly.

“you’ve been so well behaved as of lately.. i should treat you with something special tonight.”

“i.. i-i just..”

you couldn’t get the words out. you were too stunned. his touches were delicate to the core, and you felt like you were on cloud nine from each time he kissed your neck, you even tilted your head upwards to give him more room.

“don’t worry, baby. i’ll make sure you feel real good.” secondo smirked, still kissing your neck. as he did so, his hands slithered down to move under your shirt, resting his hands right underneath your chest and on your ribcage.

“so�� how about it? you want me to give you my extra special christmas gift? as my gratitude for all of your hard work?”

damn. you couldn’t just say no. when would you ever get an oppylike this again? not in a million years

you whimpered and spoke. “please.”

he smirked. “now that’s what i like to hear.”

and he slowly started to slip your shirt off.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

#holiday hoes event #secondo #secondo x reader #papa secondo #secondo smut #papa secondo smut #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus ii x reader #ghost bc x reader #ghost bc smut #smutty drabble #christmas prompts #christmas

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mono-dot-jpeg · 9 months

Text

[1:43am]

a/n; cute timestamp 143 (ily) i almost forgot this idea i had for twst since i was thinking about dragon reader. but this time i was thinking about nimona shark so.... an excuse for me to write for octo dorm again

platonic??? romantic??? idk you can decide.

you loved your home (back in the ocean) and all but man, you couldn't help but gravitate even more towards the ocean themed dorm. you don't like getting attached to people. you kind of live with your own school of sharks when it was feeding time, and that was it for the most part.

but you wanted a friend or two... one that wasn't scared of you at least. that was a hard ask back in your school (as if you've only lived in the sea until this exchange program).

but here, you had a chance at least!

you learned about the dorm and you were hooked from the start. when you first met floyd and jade, you were caught off guard with their sharp teeth and supposedly odd personalities. you understood the fear.. you think. but you thought floyd seemed nice despite the raving rumors around him. maybe it was because you knew that you could body him with your size and height alone.

you were a very big shark after all. and floyd seemed interested. before he had a chance to really know you, he called you a whale (not out of insult but as a nickname), and you had corrected him that you were a whale shark. "i'm not a whale, i'm a whale shark." the lack of sharp teeth had him even more interested. "very different creatures clearly."

"hehe, looks like sharky has some bite after all!" floyd snickered as this was a first meeting and he's only heard you from gossip. "we're gonna get along great."

that was a lie. he always tried to get on your nerves because of your loner-like personality. how you didn't really mind other guppies (humans) and how you didn't even mind being friends with leona's dorm members. you didn't really care most of the time when he did it, which did get him bored.

but then you met jade and the dorm leader himself, azul. your tall stature had initially startled him. but you reassued him, "don't worry, i don't eat octopus." somehow, you had amused the leech twins, both of them snickering at your blunt statement as azul stares up at you in disbelief. "i really don't."

"it's true." floyd vouches. "they eat people." he almost says it a little too seriously, causing you to smack him behind the head. "sharky!"

"i don't eat people. you do."

"well, that's just not true!"

"don't lie about me and i won't lie about you." and somehow you find a job in the lounge, becoming a host or the last line of security for the place. you certainly capture the attention of other students. you reflect most of your shark counterparts and behaviors that scare them, but you're really a gentle person.

you provide an odd sense of comfort to the guests of the lounge. it's rather endearing watching a shark-mer such as yourself try to be gentle and (mostly) nice to others.

floyd often turns to you for when he wants to squeeze something, and he just doesn't feel like chasing that magicless prefect yet. you're not really a warm-blooded person, so it's not a warm hug or anything, but you are one of the few people who can take a squeeze from the eel. and he takes that to his advantage. sometimes you are forced to carry him around when he's feeling extra clingy, but you don't seem to mind.

jade comes to you when he's done forcing mushroom dishes to his twin. you have a big appetite, so it only makes sense for him to test dishes with you around. he likes your peaceful presence as well, always commenting how people must mistake you for those violent shark movies and videos that those guppies watch. you sigh heavily every time when someone talks about those movies and if they were actually how sharks were.

azul comes to you for your calm presence. he warmed up to you slowly as you were still technically one of the few biggest sharks. but you always tell him it's okay to be scared of you because you're just used to it. and he's a little concerned now. "do you not have many friends because of your lineage?"

"no one likes a scary shark. not many people, at least." and it kind of reminds him of how alone he felt back in elementary. and he gave himself a silent pack to just not make you feel that way. he had even offered to let you swim the back lounge area for the employees. you were very happy at that. of course, he didn't fully account for how big your shark-mer form really was. but you looked so happy, he couldn't ruin that for you. and after that, he opened up a bit more and you both spend your time together in a comforting silence while he works and you rest or work with him. you're not the best with negotiating, but you do bring an energy that helps ease the clients (or scare them) into signing his contracts.

unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and you had to go back to your school because the exchange program ended. you were all kind of sad. but at least you knew that you had made a friend, and that felt like enough. they promised to visit and everything. even inviting you to school events at nrc if it was possible. and you offer the same as well.

you don't mind being a scary shark anymore.

#twisted wonderland floyd #twisted wonderland azul #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland floyd leech #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #twst floyd #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #twst jade #twst octavinelle

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lowkeyrobin · 29 days

Note

hello

First of all I love your stories like Trevor Spengler is so goooood!

I was wondering I was scrolling through your posts and saw jaeden Martell as an actor one shot?

I was wondering if you could possibly do a headcannon what it would be like dating him please?

Like a sfw version and a NSFW version please

Absolutely no pressure.

And if you don't do that sort of thing I understand lol

Have a miraculous day lovely and keep up the good work ✌️😄

yeah of course!! and thank you so much, I'm glad you're enjoying them! ; also I did see your other thing about apologizing for the NSFW, and you're totally fine, no biggie! I wanted to put this here too bc idk if u saw me reply to it before I deleted it ; thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

JAEDEN MARTELL ; dating shenanigans

summary ; dating stuff with jaeden

warnings ; language

word count ; 564

masterlist

literally a picture perfect duo

one because he's jaeden martell and two because you look so good together

both of your Instagram pages are filled with pictures of each other

honestly, yall don't have any haters, you worked on a few movies together, so people have been shipping you for YEARSSSS

every once in a while you scroll through tiktok and find a few handfuls of edits of you and jaeden + your characters

they're the cutest thing ever

you always like, repost and favorite them

it's so funny going back and seeing the ops reaction lmao

sometimes you do some cutesy photoshoots together cause like, why not?

always indulging into each other's interests

you two religiously go on picnic dates

always going on roadtrips to go see something new

you find all sorts of new little restaurants and places to go on Facebook (thank your parents for that one... it's an awful place but it's good for finding new things)

you guys met on the set of IT

it was so awkward at first with everyone meeting each other and whatnot

but after a day or two it was like you'd all known each other since forever

you quickly formed a special bond with jaeden, like just bonding over a lot of the same things and your feelings

people were shipping your characters but the interviews post it2017 and it2019 releases 😭 got the fans all over you two

you had a minor role in defending jacob but the edits of your characters went hard

same thing with metal lords, like 😭

you had about the same size role as hunter so pretty much a main character but your character barely talked to his outside of with hunter 😭

those editors were struggling but feeding

he was the first to confess, surprisingly

it was like a bit before he got the role for jacob barber

he took you out for coffee and a long walk through a park and stuff

thing like hozier vibes if that makes sense

bro became a poet talking to you like that

he couldn't look at you because he was embarrassed the whole time but you were staring at him while walking. like a mix of shock and happiness

you found a tree stump to place your coffee cup (he'd already finished his) placed it down, and just kissed him

cause wtf did he think was gonna happen? speaking all romantic like that like you wouldn't kiss him...

he's not a big pda person, maybe a 4/10

will happily hold your hand or give you small pecks on the cheek/hand/lips but nothing else

he's not jealous at all either so there's no reason for his pda level to just go from 2-10 at all

on the topic of jealousy, it's very rare for him to be jealous of you

he trusts you and it's not something he really worries about when it comes to other people

you're not that jealous over him either, yall got that healthy mutual trust

and finally, some songs that kind of sum up your little relationship 🙏❤️

cloudbusting ; kate bush

crush culture ; conan gray

bourgeoisieses ; conan gray

empire now ; hozier

wildflower and barely ; hozier & allison russell

too sweet ; hozier

lost it to trying paper towns mix ; son lux

thinking bout love ; wild rivers & wrabel

#lowkeyrobin #jaeden martell x reader #jaeden martell #actor x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #gn! reader

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max1461 · 5 months

Text

There's an emergent genre of travel YouTubers right now, pioneered I think by pickup artist and objectively bad person (but undeniably genius content creator) "Bald and Bankrupt" Benjamin Rich. These guys are doing a kind of gonzo travelogue thing that is pretty interesting to me. It's a little hard to summarize their ethos in abstract, I recommend you just watch some of their stuff.

Bald and Bankrupt in particular is sort of, his persona is that of like, a brash-yet-surprisingly-cultured asshole? He behaves like an asshole, on camera, all the time. He makes degrading comments about women and not too infrequent racist jokes. At the same time he (his persona, idk) shows a certain amount of... tender humanism? Like he goes to a lot of places that are regarded as dangerous or squalid, and rather than doing the usual "I almost got killed!!!" thing, he's invariably interested in showing that they're not that bad, documenting how life is normal there, showing positive interactions with people. He travels around Eastern Europe a lot and has an abiding appreciation for Soviet architecture and design, which he documents with enthusiasm. He's talked about the value of learning the language of the places you travel to—not in a careful academic way (he advises that one "ignore grammar entirely"), but in a loose way that just allows you to communicate with people. In his videos traveling through India, he makes sure use the right greeting with Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs and so on.

Oh, and, right, he's ridiculously extroverted. He immediately behaves in a chummy and objectively over-friendly way with every person he meets.

What I want to say about him is something like... he presents a worldview that I think is basically respect-worthy, and in fact a refreshing antidote to the kinds of attitudes I typically encounter in the "nerd spaces" in which I'm spending a lot of my time lately. But he is, as I said, objectively a bad person. He can be over-friendly like that because he has no respect for anyone's boundaries, and he seems in his personal life to have no qualms about exploiting people (especially women) and treating them like shit. I can't imagine he pays any mind to ethics when he travels to impoverished places and meets and interacts with struggling people.

If you're going to watch his videos, do it with an ad-blocker or something, idk how YouTube revenue works but I don't really want to support this guy. But I admit that I do watch his videos, at least sometimes, when they show up in my recommendations. Because they're a little bit infectious, frankly, and I think that as works a lot of them have value. In fact I'd go farther and say that some of them are among the best content being produced on YouTube right now, period. You just have to engage in some pretty heavy separation of the art from the artist.

#navel gazing

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wooahaes · 2 years

Text

lost & found

pairing: non-idol!vernon x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 6/13

word count: 2.1k

warnings: reader has a cat. lost cat happens twice. two idiots keep losing things. food mention. slight mention about being anxious about soulmates (but it’s less vernon and more other people in his life).

daisy’s notes: idk why but this one felt like a cute one for vern. also me being a messy bitch too i’d probs miss things too lmao (also sorry this ones kinda short!! i knew what i wanted to do with it and didn’t want to draw it out too long)

summary: Sometimes Vernon finds things in his room that are definitely not his. Most of the time he attributes them to Seungkwan, but when he loses a flash-drive with all his music and classwork… it’s just a coincidence it ends up in his classmate’s bag, right?

Vernon’s... admittedly more okay with the fact he doesn’t have a soulmate. He never felt anyone’s pain growing up, or heard someone singing, and all of his colors in his vision are completely intact. He didn’t have a name written on him like his parents did, or tasted whatever his soulmate would be eating, or have a date and time printed on his wrist like his sister did--ten more years before she met them, and he’d listened to her time and time again vent about how sometimes she’d look at it and realize how close it actually is in the scheme of things. He grew up listening to the gentle comfort toward him despite the indifference he’d grown into. It bothered him at first, sure, but in the end... What was the point of having a soulmate? Did people really think that finding that person would result in immediate love and marriage and babies or some shit? Vernon wanted to fall in love more... organically. Not with a person the universe pushed him towards, linking them together by some invisible bond. As romantic as a red string sounded (even if Wonwoo’s meeting with his soulmate wasn’t exactly romantic), he wanted to be in control over his own fate. He was happy for his friends finding their soulmates one by one (hell, he liked Seungkwan’s soulmate--they didn’t take that much shit, but it was admittedly a little sweet to see Seungkwan dote on them because they bumped into another goddamn chair a little too hard), but for him? He was okay without it.

Which was why he branched out a bit. He dated a few other people without soulmates, one of which did have a soulmate but didn’t have an obvious sign, and things never fully worked out. Call it destiny, call it choice, but something always seemed to go... a little wrong. Or maybe they just didn’t work out: Vernon was never completely sure whenever he tried to look back on it. He settled for making friends with people instead after a while, not wanting the stress of relationships. That’s ultimately what brought him to you.

Or, well, your cat was.

Vernon lived in the same apartment building as you. He’d met you once or twice, seen your roommate with their partner and their matching symbols, and that was that. Vernon also knew that you had a cat, because he’d sometimes see her sitting on your balcony when you were outside reading on lazy afternoons. She was this pretty calico cat with a bright blue jingle-bell collar, and she was always extremely vocal considering he’d heard her chirp and fuss at you and the baby voice you’d put on to talk back. Sometimes he’d stand outside and just... watch for a moment the way her eyes would widen when seeing birds fly past, or the way she’d sometimes look at him and he swore to god the cat was slow-blinking at him. She was cute. It kinda made him miss his own cat, but he didn’t have time to take care of a pet considering classes and work and having a social life.

Your cat ended up in his apartment. He never understood how, except he could see where he’d left the balcony door cracked open and it wasn’t impossible for her to have made her way across the ledges (just dangerous as hell) because maybe she got shut out. He came home one day before Seungkwan did and there she was: just sitting in the middle of his apartment like she owned the damn place.

“Hi?”

She slow-blinked at him and then meowed at him.

“How’d you get in here?”

She merely flicked her tail and then stood up, making her way over to brush against his legs while purring as loudly as she could.

“Okay...” He dropped his bag in the entryway, picking up the cat (and holy shit she was a little heavier than he thought) and cradling her in his arms. “You wanna go home?”

Another slow-blink.

He scratched her behind her ears, watching the way she happily closed her eyes. “... Yeahhh, let’s get you home before your owner freaks.”

When you asked him how he found her, he didn’t exactly have an answer. The two of you pieced together that balcony theory together, and then you asked if he was in the music program at your school. That was how the two of you realized you were classmates. Separate programs entirely, sure, but you thought you recognized him from being on campus. When you made a comment about hoping she wasn’t a hassle or that he and his roommate weren’t allergic, he cleared things up and admitted he kind of missed his own cat.

“Well, you can always come by if you want,” you giggled. “Nutmeg likes people.”

That was how the two of you started being friends. You confessed after a while that you didn’t have a soulmate, and that had helped the two of you bond a little more when you weren’t talking about music or movies. He liked hanging out with you (and Nutmeg, who always curled up in his lap, making you always mention that she was social but never this social). Sometimes you’d find his things in your room, sometimes he’d find yours, but it worked out fine. The two of you were around each other often enough that it made sense.

... Until he lost his USB with all his music on it. Not just his music: every single thing he had for his classes. Most of it was backed up on his email, sure, but he rarely put compositions or anything not-written there. Fuck, he took one gap year because he needed to get away from the stress and he was supposed to be more organized this time around. He grabbed his bag, calling out to Seungkwan that he was heading back up to campus. Maybe he left it in one of the computer labs when he was working, or in the music lab, or the other computer lab when he stopped in to chat with a friend...

He’d been in the library when you approached him. “Hey. It’s Hansol, right?”

Vernon looked up at you. “Did you already forget--”

“No, dumbass, I know you’re Vernon. You have “Chwe Hansol” written on all your school stuff, right?” You held up the USB, shaped like BB-8, and he sighed in relief. “Why didn’t you write “Vernon” on it?”

He took it from you immediately, thanking you. “One of my professors kept calling me Hansol because he’s this laidback dude and I just... never corrected him. So everyone just calls me Hansol.”

“Vernon.”

“Look, I tried like... twice but they always forgot.” He shoved the drive into his pocket. “C’mon. I owe you whatever you want.”

He didn’t tell you that you really saved his ass there, since he had big projects on that drive. He never thought he needed to: you saw how stressed he was. Vernon bought you your favorite smoothie as thanks, and parted ways with you afterward since he genuinely had shit that needed to get done. You sent him a picture of Nutmeg that night, curled up asleep on your bed on top of one of your textbooks. She was demanding you take a break. He smiled to himself.

Seungkwan asked him when he was going to ask you out. Vernon told him never because you didn’t like him like that. Even when he found one of your beaded bracelets, made for you by a close friend in his room one day. You hugged him tight for what felt like too long, mumbling something into his shoulder about how it meant a lot to you and that you seriously owed him. You were his friend. Of course he’d do anything to help you out, even if it meant searching as long as he needed to find something you lost.

The next time Nutmeg went missing, you were... really, really distressed. Vernon watched missing cat posters get put up, watched you go out looking for her while he was stuck working on important assignments he couldn’t give up too much time for. He looked with you when he could, sure, but most of the time you ended up with Seungkwan going with you--sometimes Seungkwan’s soulmate tagging along to look. He’d been sitting in the apartment alone, a fresh cup of ramen in his hands, when he heard the tiniest jingle and a muffled meow the moment he was about to put his headphones back on. He set the cup down, rising back out of his chair as he looked around.

“... Meg?”

Another meow, more distressed than before... and coming from his closet. He quickly made his way over, pulling it open before a very distressed kitty darted out and underneath his bed, making him mutter a “oh, shit--” as she disappeared underneath there. He made his way over quickly, shoving his chair out of the way so that he could lay down and watch her cower for a moment.

Shit. How long had she been in there...?

Then it didn’t make sense. If she had been in there the entire time, he would have known. Maybe she’d found her way into his room and jumped in... somehow... when he was changing last. It didn’t make sense, sure, but what else could it be?

He sat there, gently coaxing her to come back out before he called you. He sat on his bed, this ball of fur and fluff asleep in his arms despite the way she slightly trembled. You said you’d be there as soon as you could, and he watched the relief cross your face when you saw her again. You loved that damn cat and Vernon knew that.

You had knelt down in front of him, gently running your fingers across Nutmeg’s back. She opened her eyes and chirped at you, and he watched you smile at her. Then you looked up at him. “I owe you dinner.”

He nodded toward his cup of ramen. “I think I’ve got it covered--”

“Chwe.” You frowned. “I mean it. I’m gonna take Nutmeg home, but we’re going to get real food after this. You know how important she is to me.”

He wasn’t going to argue with you. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, then--”

You had patted down your pockets. “Shit. My wallet...”

And he could feel a weight in his own hoodie pocket. Vernon furrowed his brow, reaching into it before he felt his fingers come in contact with leather that.. definitely wasn’t there a minute ago.

“... Must have dropped it on the way up... I’ll go check the stairs--”

He pulled out the leather-bound wallet, and watched your eyes lit up.

“How the hell...”

“Isn’t that a sign?” He said. “Finding lost things?” He knew it was. He’d looked it up once with Soonyoung in a moment where neither wanted to admit they didn’t have soulmates. The subtle signs. The ones you didn’t think about first when you thought about having a soulmate. Like Jihoon’s.

Neither of you spoke again. All you did was rise up, leaning forward and letting him close that distance to be sure, and when he did you kissed him hard. Nutmeg leapt away the moment you drew closer, and he dropped your wallet onto the bed next to him in favor of touching you. All he knew in that moment was you and that every pining feeling for you he’d grown felt... right. Like it was always going to be you. Maybe that was what soulmates were supposed to feel like.

“We’re so stupid,” you mumbled against his lips, drawing back. “Literally how many times have I found your stuff in my apartment?”

“You said you were bad at cleaning!”

“That’s what you said too, dummy!” You gently smacked his thigh. You looked over to where Nutmeg had started making her way to his desk, and quickly scooped her up before she could try to get to his ramen. “She’s going home. We’re going out, so look decent, soulmate.” You smiled at him. “Alright?”

He smiled back at you, not caring that you had pushed his beanie off or messed with his hair. “Alright,” he promised. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. Hey, uh...” His eyes lit up a little, comment locked and loaded. “Don’t make me come find you, alright?”

You laughed softly at that. “Like you wouldn’t.”

He would. If you wanted to be found, he’d go looking for as long as it took.

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #seventeen fluff #vernon x reader #vernon x you #chwe vernon x reader #chwe vernon x you #chwe hansol x reader #chwe hansol x you

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