#airs chaotic ocs

[fallingbuns]

Old woman Yuri ocs 🦔🦔

#my art #airs chaotic ocs #oc #ocs #original characters #original character #doodle #doodles #draw #draws #drawing

[wexhappyxfew]

no hard feelings

(a/n): dougie deserves all the love and carrie achterberg was the perfect opportunity to test it out. had some ideas for these two a while back and finally pieced together their dynamic later in the war. there’s plenty of time to talk about their earlier dynamic but for now….enjoy these two and a look into their history together :) enjoy! ....oh and if you're a Sunshine Soldier fan (my first BoB fic), from ages ago, there's a treat for you stuffed in here!

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Pleasure seeing you ladies here."

Carrie glanced up from her rather in-depth conversation with Paulina and Bessie and found James Douglass, leaned up against the chair in front of them, across the table, a wide smile on his face, as he glanced at their faces and then settled on Carrie.

James Douglass - to which she had annoyingly started calling him Dougie, like the others - was never one to entertain nor hold onto something far longer than needed. However, when it came to her and, particularly, teasing her, he held onto that like a rope tied around his finger. He never let go.

"To what do I have the displeasure of seeing you," Carrie said looking up at him with a wry grin, to which he raised a brow at, "c'mon, let me have it. What is it? You need shoeshine for those things you call boots. You need me to go and kiss-up because you said something you shouldn't have. No wait - I got it. You managed to wake up late and missed breakfast, and need me to smooze you into getting coffee." The tables around them grew slightly quiet, a few heads turning; Paulina stuck to staring between the two, a bunch of scrambled eggs in her mouth, Bessie taking the opportunity to loudly sip on her coffee that was growing cold. Dougie sent her a look with his eyes and then looked at Paulina swiftly.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said something about a fuse in Silver Bullets blowing," he offered, before dropping his voice, "right near the radio." Paulina's fork dropped and she launched up out the chair and darted away, calling over her shoulder through the loud lunch room, half-chewing, half-attempting to speak.

"I'll be back!" she called, wiping at her mouth, "James Douglass I'll have your head for this if you're joking around with that no-good head of yours!" Carrie watched her disappear and then watched Dougie look at Bessie, who sat rather unfazed and slightly tuned out of the conversation. Carrie momentarily shut her eyes when she knew what was coming.

"Kidd's looking for ya. Said he had a few things to talk to you about, from the good Colonel himself." Dougie offered and she stared at him and raised a brow, before ceremoniously wiping her mouth and standing.

"I'll be back." she muttered, eyeing Dougie, before sending Carrie a look, to which she rolled her eyes. Which left Carrie with Dougie.

Good God.

She turned her eyes to look at him and then leaned against the table, lacing her fingers, offering a rather sarcastic smile instead of sweet.

Listen, she got along with James Douglass, the whole base did, but sometimes he sweet-talked her because he enjoyed it. And he knew how much he could get to her, even if it was just teasing. Bessie always teased Carrie back that it was because he was taking a liking to her.

Carrie Achterberg was absolutely not one to take to gossip like that and had promptly squashed that. He had joked with her like this since training - it was James Douglass for Chrissake - he did it because half the time, there was enough sadness on this base to fill up an ocean.

"What do you want?" she said, pointedly acknowledging how rather relaxed he was, and how drained she appeared.

"Does it always have to be something I want? What about you? What do you want?"

"For you to leave me alone, so I can enjoy breakfast. Without the fucking peanut gallery."

"That hurts me, Bergie."

"Don't call me that."

"What? A lil nickname never hurt anybody. Bessie calls you that." She raised a brow in his direction and he shook his head.

"Look, just, can you…I don't know, just do me a favor?" Carrie stared at him and raised her brow further.

"What?"

"Can you dance with me tonight? At the flying club?" Carrie stared at him, before shaking her head.

"No." Dougie sighed.

"C'mon, why not?" Carrie looked at him sharply and sent him a scowl.

"If I'm gonna dance with someone, they're going to want to actually dance with me. Not just do it because of some other girl." Carrie said quickly and inhaled more egg, "I know you've been eyeing up Charlotte Tarvers, so." Dougie blew a raspberry and waved her off.

"Nah, nah, she's….I think she's got some guy in the Airborne, I'm not....nah." Dougie said waving it off, "Really, it's just….you and I, ya know? And, look, listen, favors is a bad word anyway…." Carrie looked at him, her cheeks dotting red a bit and she shook her head.

"You're just doing it to try and get another girl to come and be all fluffy in your face. Newsflash, Dougie, I'm not taking part. Ask Margie or…or Judy! Judy would love to."

"If Benny DeMarco were here he would smash my face in for even dare touching Margie and I'd rather not become one with Captain Rosenthal's dark side so, respectively….I'll take my chances." Dougie said and then looked at her. Carrie grumbled under her breath and shook her head.

"Fine." she said, "But. You have to promise to make it worthwhile, alright? Give me a twirl, hold me agonizingly tight, but not too tight, 'kay? I might even do my hair."

"Do your hair? Oh, Bergie, that's an honor right there. I'm honored, truly."

"Buzz off, shithead. Not for you. For me." Carrie said and then bit into a piece of toast, "I don't know….maybe it'll get someone's attention." Dougie's face turned serious for a moment as Carrie enjoyed her toast and he seemed to recalibrate.

"Uh….what do ya mean?"

"I don't know…..some of the guys, you never notice how cute some of them are until you see 'em, ya know? In their Class A's, looking all put together….especially after some of those last few missions." she said, "Maybe they'll see us dancing and ask to butt in. We'll see." Dougie watched her, looking more confused by the minute, bringing a spark of laughter to Carrie's lips.

"But…..you and I, we're dancing. Together. And going. Together." Dougie said with a chuckle before shaking his head, "You can't……"

"Are you jealous, Dougie?" Carrie whispered quietly with a grin, smacking his shoulder, "You're cute when you're mad." Dougie watched her as she continued eating, frozen in place, without any sort of words.

"Don't give me that look, that's exactly how you sounded to me," she said, and raised a brow, "so….you promise, it's just gonna be you and I. No other extras, huh?"

"Promise." Dougie said quickly, "Shake on it." Carrie eyed him, but then met his grasp and shook on it, before going back to her toast and enjoying savoring the taste.

"Who's the jealous one now?" Dougie whispered quietly to her from across the table, sending the blonde a smirk and a wink, who offered nothing but a glare, "C'mon, just saying. Sounds like you want me all to yourself." Carrie looked at him and then placed down the toast and met his gaze.

"I'm doing this for no one but myself. Not you." she said. Dougie rolled his eyes and then leaned across the table and dropped his voice, lowly.

"No other extras, huh?" he whispered, "Afraid someone's gonna steal me away?" Carrie slowly looked to his face, her eyes unmistakably drifting across his face for a moment before looking back at his eyes.

"Who says I'm afraid? You're the one inviting me." she whispered back quietly, watching that stupid smirk grow on his lips - a challenge. She seemed to have caught Dougie in a crossfire as he chuckled to himself and then leaned back in his chair and laid an arm over the empty seat next to him.

"If anything, you should be afraid someone's gonna steal me away. I've met plenty of those gentlemen to know they'd take any chance they could." Carrie said, her cheeks flaming at the way he watched her, making her collar hot and her cheeks red, "Why didn't you just ask Paulina? Or Bessie?" Dougie sent her a look and crossed his arms.

"There's a reason I'm asking you and not them, sweetheart." he said and she felt her face dip darker in color, to which she picked up her toast and took an angry bite out of it, trying to ignore that look on his face, to which she was almost enjoying. Knowing he was getting under her skin, and she was liking it. She swallowed her toast and then looked at him, schooling her features evenly.

"Enlighten me. What are you trying to say?" Carrie said, staring at him with a cool expression. A bold question to pose, in her opinion. Like bait for a fish. He watched her and licked his lips, suddenly under the spotlight and met her gaze again, fully.

"I want to dance." Dougie said, a nod, like convincing himself this was right, "With you." Carrie's eyes moved to his quickly. He stared right back at her, holding her gaze tensely as she reached for her coffee cup.

There was something in his gaze that was different than before there. A longing, a want, an eagerness - something that made her stomach feel funny and her toes tingle.

Why, she wondered in her mind. There were a bunch of other wonderful ladies he could dance with that he would have a far better time both dancing and conversing with - people that were pleasant and friendly and happy. People that weren't like her. She looked to him again and watched as he leaned forward and shook his head.

"Listen, Bergie, I'm sorry," he said quickly, waving his hands in front of himself, "it was too forward, I get it. You got a lot of shit going on back home, you don't want-"

"No." Carrie said, stopping him mid-sentence, his eyes flashing to hers as she sat there, cheeks turning red again as she tried to stop it. She shook her head and balled up her fists and fixed her shoulders.

"It's not that." she managed out in a stammering pace, shaking her head. The two watched each other - him, waiting on her to open her mouth, and her, waiting for her mind to connect with her mouth to speak. But it didn't happen.

"What's going on, Bergie?" Dougie asked quietly, noticing as she looked at him, trying to gather what thoughts were left in her mind.

All she could think of was the casualty list - the way it grew, larger and larger. The amount of planes that had gone up and never come down. The amount of men they'd lost, the people that were gone never to return. The families that would never get their sons and daughters back.

"James." she said quickly, and he looked at her in earnest, "I….." He stared at her, the most serious she'd ever seen a look appear on his face.

"This is…." she couldn't get her words right, the puddle of her mind overwhelming. She couldn't look at him and speak what she actually wanted to say. It was too real. All of these. These feelings, what was going on around them. This war.

"Did something happen?" he asked quickly, "Listen, I just joke with you, no hard feelings, just-"

"I'll dance with you." she said quickly, "Tonight. Just-" she stood quickly with her half-finished cup of coffee, looking down at her pants rather than him, "-just….I'll see you there." She took her plate and then spun away, moving around the edge of the table, her eyes on the door.

"Wait, wait, Bergie-" Dougie said, jumping to his feet, and lightly placing a hand on her elbow. She turned to look up at him, catching him in the haze of late morning light and watched as his eyes softened, only seen by her, his eyes lingering on parts of her face she hated to show a soul, his body heat penetrating her own with how close he seemed to be.

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly, dropping his voice, "I mean, you don't have to dance with me. I just…..we never have and I figured I owed ya-"

"I'm fine." she managed quickly, "No, we'll….we'll dance. It's fine. I'm fine." She offered a smile his way and he watched her, regarding her face quietly.

"I didn't ask you because there's another girl or to have a laugh, none of that, that's a shit thing to do, alright?" he said quietly, "I asked you because I want to dance with you. You, Bergie." She stared at him, her eyes flicking back and forth, over and over. The longer she stared at him, the more her heart began to race and the blood rushed to her cheeks.

"What I'm trying to say is that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and I finally have the opportunity to dance. With you." Dougie said quickly, his ears and upper cheeks turning red, even though he seemed to try to hide it. Between both their faces and the redness of their cheeks, it was quite a sight for any onlooker or eavesdropper. She stared at him.

"I almost did. Back in Greenland. You definitely didn't want anything to do with me, but I almost did it." he said, a nervous smile on his face, "Figured you were pissed with me. So I didn't. As usual." She continued to watch him - him, rambling, her, staring. After a few moments of silence that lingered between them, she blinked.

"I'm always pissed with you." she said, but she said it in a way that was both factual and sarcastic and got a smile going on Dougie's face.

"Well, I know that," he said, "figured you wouldn't want to dance with the guy you're pissed off at. I don't know, as I go to twirl you, you'd probably try to push me into a wall or something."

Carrie stared at him - she'd let him twirl her into his chest and more, hold her close to his chest, in his broad, warm arms, tell her it was okay, that this was okay, that this was allowed, that she could feel this. She stared at him, her heart racing. And he stared back, that deep look in his eye that was enough to make her lose it.

"Keep looking at me like that and you'll get more than you bargained for." she whispered softly and then offered him a small, smirking grin, and walked away, her cheeks and ears burning.

If she looked back, she'd get that look that she knew was on his face, forever implanted in her mind and she couldn't have that yet. Not now.

As she placed away the plate and took one last sip of her coffee, she moved towards the door with her arms crossed and glanced over her shoulder just as she stepped out and looked to where Dougie was, stood still, hands in his pockets, watching her like something holy had just appeared right in front of him. She winked.

#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #carrie achterberg #james douglass #carrie x dougie #james douglass x oc #DOUGIEEE!!!! #these two were fun to write i wont lie hehe #and i have so many more ideas for them too so !!!!! :) #dougie was fun to write too lmfao hes chaotic and its fun LOL #THEM !!!! #also carrie in her feels and she tries to hide it but with dougie she lets it down a bit now - i will go and sob #also: charlotte tarvers mention !!!! #ENJOY!!!!!

[jellisdraws]

She got 99 problems but gravity just ain’t one.

Mochi Mochi the Soul knife rogue

#awhellstothejoe #character art #my art #dnd #my oc #dnd character #fantasy art #character design #Soulknife #rogue #dnd rogue #dnd 5e #character portrait #digital art #air genasi #air genasi rogue #mochi #mochi mochi #chaotic dumbass #the lighting effects though #I’m so proud of this one

[nylilcosmos]

small warmup ft. my dnd chara

#nylil art #nylil oc #my quite chaotic but softhearted girl <3 #she's an #air genasi #dnd character #there's a smol oneshot campaign planned for sat so ahhh eggcited #its been a while #dnd oc

[avionvadion]

Chapter 38: The Stolen Heirloom of Destiny’s Call has been posted!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39934308/chapters/120495046

Actually kind of tempted to draw for this chapter, but... that’ll be after I finish up the next webtoon chapter. Le sigh. 

#air quality has been awful recently so actually trying to work on it has been rough. #botw #botw oc #botw link #kakariko village #breath of the wild #botw fanfic #link and Iliana have a chaotic sibling dynamic #my eldest sis has finally moved in though! so I'm super excited about that #the mortician sibling for anyone that cares or is confused #not the one I left to hang out with for two weeks

[jkslipppiercing]

I'll show you | Part 2 | jjk

♡ summary: you show jungkook how much you love him...by giving him head.

♡ genre: a bit of angst, fluff, and smut all in one (mostly smut and fluff) (idk)

♡ pairing: boyfriend!jk, soft dom!oc.

♡ warnings: a LOT of kissing, jungkook is frustrated/mad, oc gives jk a blowjob, gagging is mentioned, oral (m receiving), dick sucking, he cums in her mouth, praise, jk calls her a good girl.

♡ WC: 2.6K

♡ a/n: enjoy 😮‍💨🤭

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After leaving you with an incredulous weight of frustration on your back, Jungkook had showered, gotten dressed, and hung out in the living room.

He's sat there, knees spread wide apart, forearms under his head, looking at the tv through his thick lashes with a head lazily laid back on the headrest; shamelessly offering his masculinity.

The wails of the tv blend into a chaotic blur of white noise in the back of your head, and the awkwardness that basically radiates off of you is almost palpable.

You switch your weight from one foot to the other, only to give yourself something to do.

"Show me" replays in your head over and over again, and you simply can't make it stop.

What on earth does he mean by that?

Show him what?

Should you bake him a cake or something?

No...that won't do.

Well...what about writing him a letter?

Seriously?

This is fucking ridiculous.

You don't realize you've said that out loud until he flicks a gaze over to you.

His eyes hold yours for a mere second. You think he might actually say something, so you stare back at him in anticipation of some sort of reaction.

...which never comes.

His gaze trails back to where it was originally settled, watching the tv as he feigns interest.

This is so damn frustrating.

Deciding to test the waters with him, you take a few steps forward.

His eyes remain stubbornly fixed on the tv, and as you come to a halt in front of him, he still refuses to look at you- so he settles on staring at a point behind you.

He's being childish.

Too bad, because you won't fucking have it anymore.

"Show me" blares in your conscience as a reminder.

Your foot enters his personal bubble of space, and as a first initiated interaction from him, he spreads his knees a little for you to fit between his legs.

The action sparks a flame of hope upon what could be.

Okay...

Now what?

In a split second of hesitation, you abandon all thoughts of rationality and take a seat. On him.

He lets you.

Knees digging into the couch on either side of his waist, you straddle him. The brush of your core against his crotch sends an electrifying jolt up your spine, and he finally looks at you when he notices how your breath shallows.

He doesn't speak, and neither do you.

Hands in need of holding onto something, you delve them into his hair. You play with the hair on the back of his head, scratching his scalp.

He always loved the gesture, humming approvingly whenever you went on with it; but now, the coldness of the silence weighing the air between you spreads an ache through your chest.

He just stares.

Another emotion accompanies the ache, and you soon recognize it to be challenge.

So you lean forward and latch your lips onto his jaw. To start off slow, you kiss the slant of it sweetly. Inching down a bit and boldly licking a long stripe up the length of his neck, you're satisfied once jungkook sucks in a sharp breath.

As you make out with the length of his neck, an urge to grind on his dick grows- but you fight it.

When you bite down on his sweet spot, he groans disapprovingly, which causes you to lick and suck on the area to dull the pain.

The throbbing ache of your heart intensifies when you realize he still hasn't laid a hand on you.

"What are you doing?" He roughly rasps out, clenching his jaw when you give his throat one last kiss before you pull away.

You widen your eyes innocently, deceptively showing a stance of confusion.

"Hm?" Your hands remain unrelenting as they comb through his strands. Planting one last peck on his jaw, you fully straighten. "What am i doing?"

Echoing his words only did so much as to avoiding his question, but you don't break the act even when his stare hardens.

He looks away, and your heart just about shatters.

With now softer eyes, you chase his line of vision as you tilt your head to the side, catching his eyes with desperate ones of your own.

"Still mad at me?" Hands slowly slipping away from his nape, you look down, afraid you might actually cry if this goes on any longer.

Enough.

It started off with the both of you being mad at each other, and you found his anger so over-exaggerated that you became just as pissed at him as he was at you.

-is. He is pissed at you.

Well, now, frustration gave way to just as much misery as anger.

Your raging emotions of upsetness subsided to show those of sadness.

It's only been a short while since he last had his hands on you, but it feels as long as a lifetime.

"Fuck, I'm not- I'm not mad at you, y/n." The frustration nestled in between the dips of his voice is palpable, and your tears burn the back of your eyes. You blink in effort to push them back.

A lump in your throat grows, and you force it back down with a thick swallow, eyes never meeting his as they stay fixed on his shirt.

Fiddling with your hands is all you can do, but you muster a weak answer. "Sure seems like it to me."

It might sound angry, but it's soft. Defeated.

He runs a hand through his hair, and the position you're in looks awkward, but it's not. Not in the least.

On the contrary, it's comfortable; familiar. Feelings of security lighten up the thickness of the tension in the atmosphere, poorly so.

"Do you not love me anymore?" The question has you looking up so fast you're afraid your neck might snap.

Vulnerability swirls in his dark chocolate eyes, bleeding through his tone, and you want to kiss the hurt that accompanies it away.

You narrow your eyes in disbelief. "Will you stop saying that, for god's sake?"

"You didn't answer the question."

"You want an answer?" You shoot back, and he maintains a blank expression in response.

A small "mhm" urges you on.

"That just might be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say." His eyes light up with intrigue. "'Why?' you might ask? Well, baby, too bad for you, 'cause you're stuck with me." A bitter laugh erupts from you, and he cracks a sad smile.

"You're the most lovable, supportive boyfriend I could ever have, and I would never change a single thing about you. There's nothing to even change!" You exclaim in disbelief as you open your arms in expression.

The lightest pink blush dusts his cheeks, and he looks away.

You shift his chin with your index finger so he's looking at you again. "I'm not done."

Biting back a smile at your sassiness, he lets you continue.

"You are love itself. Saying that I love you would be such an embarrassing understatement. I believe heaven belongs with you, my soul entertwined with yours. Fuck, i love you so damn much it hurts, man."

You manage a chuckle out of him, which makes you smile yourself.

When you see his own initiation to speak, you trail a hand down his torso which makes him shut his mouth just as fast as he opened it.

"Will you let me show you?" Your hand stops where both your bodies meet, and you smile in triumph when his breath hitches.

You feel powerful- dominant- and in control of his body, so you lean forward by intention of pressing your lips to his- which caused him to close his eyes, in anticipation of the kiss- but you stop just shy of them.

When you stay there for a couple of seconds, his eyes open to reveal a never-ending darkness of lust and need.

You smirk, and for the first time this evening, his hand shoots to the back of your neck and grabs your nape.

The harsh movement makes your heartbeat skid to a stop, and it's as if he's reminding you who the one in charge here is.

Even though he is quite literally under you, he still manages to steal your breath away.

He replies to your earlier comment, voice scratched and restrained. "Oh yeah?" That alone sends heat barreling down the depths of your sex. "And just how exactly are you going to do that?"

A sardonic smile tips the corners of his lips up as he eyes your own.

You part your lips involuntarily, which causes him to lick his own pink ones. He bites down on his lips with restraint, and the simple action has you so wet you're almost uncomfortable.

But you pay your horniness no mind as you slip from his hands and settle on your knees in front of him, sneakily cupping him through his pants.

"Like this." His lids shutter closed with hitched breathing. He closes his eyes and his breath grows ragged beneath you as he lazily stretches out and spreads his knees further in invitation.

He's sporting a semi as you feel him through the fabric, and you grow impatient.

He eyes your movements as you place your hands on his belt before looking up into his eyes innocently. "May I?"

Your voice comes out so casually; it doesn't even sound like you're on your knees, asking your boyfriend if you can suck his cock.

He looks down at you with a hooded gaze. "Be my guest."

You smile in return.

Finding it unnecessary to waste any more time, you unbuckle his belt before you pull his pants down.

Kissing him through his briefs, you salivate at the little spot of precum leaking from the head of his length.

After pulling those down as well, you're met with the magnificent sight of his cock as it slaps against his abdomen.

"Fuck, I love your cock." And you lick a long stripe up his length before you stroke him sensually.

He chuckles at your comment, his breath cutting short when you kitty lick his tip. Nibbling and kissing lightly, your actions cause him to clench his hands by his sides in effort not to touch you.

"But not as much as I love you."

At that, he groans, which motivates you on to taking him in your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his tip reminds you of how familiar this all feels.

His body, his scent, his cock-

Everything about him is to die for.

You tease him as you refuse to take him deeper in your mouth, sucking on his tip to make him grow desperate for your touch- which is exactly the reaction you get to your teasing.

"Stop." The desperation laced into the demanding end of his voice awakens butterflies in your lower belly. "Stop teasing me, y/n."

He's on the verge of begging, but not quite there...yet.

"Hm..." You moan around his cock as you take him deeper, inch by inch, like a "good girl" as he likes to call you.

You stack your fists above each other on the length that doesn't fit in your mouth- he's fucking huge- as the tip nudges the back of your throat.

The gag that you fight to keep down makes your eyes water, and when you look up at him through teary eyes and saliva leaking through your mouth, he's just about done for.

A hitched, breathless- horny- moan rips out of his throat and he throws his head back- afriad he might bust if he looks at you any longer- as his hands fly to your hair.

He holds onto his dear life when you move your head, sucking him dry and stroking what doesn't fit.

A rushed "fuck" blows out of his lips in a breathless plea, your head bobbing up and down his cock while his hands help you.

"You take me so well." He grits out, making your cheeks redden in color as you grow shy.

The irony of your shyness as you suck his dick is immaculate, but he was always one to know just how much you loved praise.

"You gonna take my cum as well?" he's struggling to contain himself as his whole body tenses; he's so close. "yeah? Like the good girl you are?"

You hum around him, and his eyes look down at you only to find yours staring right back up at him.

He groans.

"So fucking beautiful" he thinks.

"Goddamnit, you're so fucking mine." His jaw clenches as his chest rises and falls with uneven heavy breaths, his hands portaying his emotions as he balls your hair up in his fists and pushes you down further.

You can't help but gag, putting every last effort into getting him off, quickening your pace. Your jaw aches- and so does your pussy, pulsing with need- but you put that aside and watch him in all his glory, gazing up at him with innocent teary eyes.

With one last thrust up your throat- and a hushed curse under his breath- Jungkook holds your gaze till the very last second, even as his cum shoots up your throat.

You hold his tip in your between your lips, sucking lightly, and he throws his head back. With his hands keeping your head in place, he's fucking his dick lazily into your mouth until the very last drop.

"Fuck" might be his favorite curse word, and it surely is, as he moans it loudly before his hands disappear from your hair and he slouches back onto the couch; his features showing no signs but pure satisfaction.

You press one last kiss to his cock, a warm goodbye- for now- and help him tuck his spent length back into his briefs.

He looks at you with that after-orgasm glow, and your breaths quicken as your core throbs with need.

You ignore the impulse to jump on his dick and ride it to no remorse, straddling him instead.

You've always loved cuddles after sex, and while he preferred cigarettes, you were nothing but a romantic in bed compared to him.

He holds your jaw in place as he joins your lips to his, his tongue invading your mouth. Just the single thought of him wanting to taste himself throws your senses into overdrive, and you let out a whimper.

Not wanting to tire him out any further, you pull away.

"Come on, let's head to bed." As you try to get up and ready for a good night's sleep, him holding you in place doesn't let you.

You can't budge as he kisses you again and pulls away only to say, "Nuh-uh" rather sassily.

"Yuh-huh." You respond with the same sassy tone he used, which causes him to smile against your lips.

You can physically feel every single part of your body melt into him.

You've always loved when he smiles against your lips, but now that you're horny out of your mind, he's so incredibly hard to resist.

He swallows your moan when he cups your ass and squeezes.

"I love you, Jungkook." You play with his hair.

"I love you more, baby."

"No, you don't." You challenge.

"Yeah? might need to suck me off again for a reminder." The taken-aback expression on your face elicits a proud chuckle from him before he kisses you again.

He just can't get enough of your lips.

Or your body.

Or you.

His lips inch toward your throat as he basically colors your neck with purplish marks.

You shiver before you realize where this is going.

Sly motherfucker. (full of love, like, not in a rude way).

"Jungkook."

A warning and a dare.

He looks at you with hooded, lustful eyes, even though he just came about five minutes ago.

"I'm not done with you yet." His dark tone catches your attention, and you choose wisely not to argue.

"My turn."

should i make a third part 🙊

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#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #smut #jungkook smut #fluff #jungkook fluff #jeon jk #jungkook jeon

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (viii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : the triplets' birthday party is a perfect place for flirting, tension, and... well, matt and y/n's forte.

warnings : use of alcohol, weed and smut ( just a lil flithy icl ), beware that the word count on this ho is crazy - meaning i did not proofread!

mickey speaks : this took a MINUTE to get out im sawrryyyy. i tried to fit everything into one part and ended up rewriting almost the entire part last minute (which is most of the reason why this is very delayed), sooo hope you love??? bc i dont lmfao also the triplets r a couple yrs older in this (turning 23)

THIS IS PART EIGHT GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

"JESUS, matt. can you take this seriously, please?" chris scoffs, taking the dry-erase marker cap from its awkward spot between his teeth.

matt's not one to continue adding his opinion knowing it won't be listened to. he prefers to leave the impossible-to-get-a-word-in debating to nick and chris who have no problem yelling over each other to the point that they don't even know what the issue ever was.

so he's found comfort in sitting at the dining room table with his eyes firmly closed and arms used as a pillow for his head, leaving nothing but a dollop of his hair to be shown, or as he told chris "attempting to find peace for myself while living with you chaotic fucks."

"what could you possibly want from me?" matt asks without moving from his face down position, voice muffled and strained.

"i want you to fight for your opinion! don't you care about what we do for our birthday?!" chris stresses while nick rolls his eyes and falls into a bored stance, leaning against the dark marble counter.

matt finally raises his head causing his face to scrunch up and eyes to squint due to the sudden and bright change in lighting, "no? i actually don't give a shit, chris."

chris first feels the instigator within him sighing in defeat only for his pride to take center. he figures if nick has practically given up and matt cares so little, that gives him all of the creative action for birthday plans. exactly what he wanted.

his lips form a tight line to hide his satisfaction as he shakes his head slowly, unevenly wiping his hand across the magnetic white board (that he used to write the many ideas thrown around in his head, mistakenly thinking a visual would narrow things down for him and nick). “‘kay. then i’m getting nate to help plan us a house party and it'll be fucking perfect. because i care.”

౨ৎ

you've never been so grateful of your front door's placement this close to the kitchen. but carrying three cake boxes and a tote bag the size of your torso, desperately needing to put them down after traveling up three flights of stairs, will surely be the task that brings that gratitude out of you.

though when you arrive, your scrunched eyebrows and pouted lips are an apparent contrast to the enthusiastic vibe of your kitchen- with andrea moving her hips to the lines of spanish dancing in the air, waiting patiently for the sizzling indication of her fried egg's tenderness, and the use of pink lemonade-colored towels or handles on utensils (that made you and andrea way too happy during one of your first target runs as roommates) scattered around.

drea finally notices you when your metal keychain clanks against the countertop, "y/n!" her excitement slightly dulls with her widened eyes when she gets a better view of your face, turning the stove off and coming closer to hug you. "hi, good morning-ish. are you feeling okay? ...or, like, sad?" you silently accept her gesture and tuck your head in her neck while she caresses your hair with a sigh, "or both at the same time...?"

your response is a breathy sigh and pause before the words tumble out, "m'fine, i think. just overestimated myself a little with staying up so late." you remove your head from her neck and move backwards to lean against the countertop, fanning your hands to create a much needed breeze, "and i'm so hot, it's making me feel gross."

andrea peers into the clear plastic cutout on top of one of the boxes, "at least the cakes look nice."

a week ago you set your mind on gifting the triplets their own cakes for their birthday (thinking that sharing a day was already enough, no way would you want them to have to share and agree on only one cake). you easily gathered their cake preferences by sneaking it into any random conversations you'd have with each of them.

and after a week of planning and preparing, was it so bad if you wanted a fun night in with your roomie? andrea warned you several times to go to bed considering you'd be up at 5:30 the next morning, but you insisted that you'd be fine and asked her to help you clear the rest of the box-wine in the fridge.

you could tell matt was a little irritated that you chose rewatching episodes of a sitcom and "cheap ass box-wine" over sex with him (of course throwing the fact that his birthday would be arriving in only a few hours right in your face) but you pioneered and assured him that you'll make time for him the next day, while also sweetly reminding him that you too have a life outside of this exchange.

at midnight you sent the triplets a group message to congratulate. and a few minutes later you left andrea on the couch for your room, sending matt a birthday text of his own (because you did feel the tiniest bit guilty for rejecting him earlier) paired with a picture with your shirt lifted, hem tucked behind your teeth, and your boobs sat in a sheer bra with decorative white trimming and a bow in the center.

he didn't respond for almost an hour and you tried to not feel embarrassed or overthink his reaction at all.

you couldn't stand the giddiness that came over you (you'd blame it on being the slightest bit tipsy) when you finally got into bed to find his response gentle, in his own matt-kind-of-way, with your image loved and a grayed bubble text reading: "Very pretty, thank you"

"thanks, drea. they were a bitch to make." water drowns out your voice as you start to wash your hands in the deep sink. you run your soapy fingers over a small cut you got when dealing with an irritating cardboard box earlier, finding the stinging of the hot water a wonderful kind of bitter that further plays into your foul mood.

"mmm... i'm sure. but it's not like you can even tell. they almost look store-bought," she attempts to flatter you, turning her head from the packaged desserts to offer a smile.

when you're sweet you're the most ripe, juicy peach, eveyone knows this. but god, when you're feeling down you really are the most cranky, green apple that could force a pucker onto even the most undaunted. your face is dragged of any aloofness or sunshine with your dry response as she turns to resume her breakfast, "uh huh. you don't have to coddle me. i'll get over myself soon, i promise." you dry your hands.

andrea would argue she's not coddling only looking out for your well being- because she wants to and knows if she were neglecting her needs you'd be right on her ass as well, "okay...and did you eat?"

"just like, a bagel before i left," you open the fridge and let the door hang open as you walk across the kitchen to grab the cake boxes and set them inside. you make sure to mind your feet, noticing figaro nosily has his furry face lifted to sniff into the side door.

she strings some sarcasm into her sentiment, "oh yum." she pauses, letting the sizzle of the egg and (now faint) music linger in the air before she speaks again, "how about you go take a shower or do something that'll make you feel a little better?"

"you know i would but being around my favorite roommate is already making me feel sooo much better!" you deliver the dry joke with a smile and pick up figaro when you shut the fridge door with an accidental slam.

she turns to look at you over her shoulder as she grabs two glass plates for the both of you, scolding you like a mother (as she tended to transform into at times like this due to her essentially parenting her younger siblings) "y/n, you're only fighting yourself, go ahead now."

౨ৎ

matt can hear chris' voice only grow louder and pound against the hallway walls but assumes he is heading anywhere but the space that matt's in, deciding to continue brushing his teeth instead.

he'd only be so lucky on his birthday.

"but yeah-" chris interrupts himself to knock and barely wait for an answer before he walks into matt's sleek bathroom. "matt's here!" his phone is carelessly thrown in front of matt's face (with a frothing mouth and irritated eyes) before he has truly registered anything that has happened.

he truly wants to roll his eyes infinitely but when he sees his mother is the one on the phone, his grumpy front is quickly wilted and a glimmer kisses his spirit in a way only she could produce.

it's clear she hadn't expected matt to be in the middle of something as personal as brushing his teeth when she first sees him, "oh, hi matt!" she understands him well enough to know he absolutely hates this (this being chris unnecessarily close to him as he hunches over to keep matt's face in the camera) so she attempts to amuse him, "wow, you're really showing your age now, aren't you? just looking so put together and nice." she laughs to herself as matt tries to not smile whilst brushing, holding his index finger up to indicate that he would address her with words in only a moment.

"chris, honey, why'd you bring me to your brother when he's busy, anyway?! now we're just watchin' him brush his teeth and the angles you're givin' me are so awkward," she emphasizes her sentence as it goes on.

chris turns the phone back to himself, "because you told me to show him?!"

"no, i said 'where's matt?'" she corrects him in jest.

"okay, so am i incorrect in saying that there was an implication-?"

matt dries his face with a towel and grabs the phone scolding chris, "hey we get it, smartass-" he turns to look at her again with a smile, "sorry mom."

"mhm," she dismisses, "when's this party of yours starting?"

"soon i think," matt moves around chris to exit the bathroom, leaving chris (literally) in the dark.

"okay and how's your birthday been so far?" he smiles knowing how excited she's always been about these things.

"good, i don't feel any different. just doin' the same stuff, except today there's way more people sending me texts and pretending the care about me." matt places the phone against a bowl full of chips in the kitchen, waving when he notices chris followed him.

"get down here nick, mom's on the phone!" chris yells, coming into frame and leaning on the counter. "jeez, matt's masochism can't give any of us a break even on days literally made for our happiness. you hearin' this kid ma?"

matt shakes his head, pointing to chris with his handful of chips, "spell masochism."

chris' eyes pinch and before their mother or chris himself reply, nick is running over to them with a smile and yell of "im heree!!"

she's has the much-expected motherly urge to cry seeing her three sons (whom she rarely sees anymore) all in the same frame, "aw, hi nicky! just look at you boys...so sweet."

it only takes another second before she's crumbling in tears. their smiles drop as chris grabs his phone. they all begin spilling out the most comforting phrases they know to cheer her up.

౨ৎ

"okay people! cake is coming through! everyone move. move, move...precious cargo right here and your ass is in the way!" asha yells and shines her phone's flashlight into the faces in the crowded living room as she ushers the girls to the kitchen.

she earns a few glares that she happily dishes back and a few mumbles of "bitch" once she's walked past that has remi "accidentally" stepping on a certain people's shoes while following asha's lead.

the modern open kitchen hosts plenty of drinks and snacks as well as a worried nathan, who's shirt is barely on his torso from the amount of buttons he's undone since stepping foot in the wild space. "oh thank god the cake's are here," he sighs with a throw of his head before frantically moving a platter of chips and guac (that someone was actively eating from) and a few six packs from the island to the opposite counter, encouraging the girls to place them down with an awkward nod of his head and harsh blink of his eyes.

asha holds back a laugh at nate's odd vibe as she moves next to him, nudging his shoulder, "what's wrong with you?"

"nothing," his head whips to look at her, "well, i mean, think 'm just nervous." he starts slow but it seems he needed someone to finally prompt him to share such a frustrated rant, "like- chris comes to me and asks me to throw him the best party. yet he doesn't give me shit to work with besides his home to host it in-" he breathes, "and 'm feelin' all the pressure of planning a party right now but, you know, i just need things to go smooth and then i'll be fine..." he runs a hand through his hair, "you ladies don't worry about me." he fakes a smile and gives a small wave of his wrist to show just how "fine" he is.

coinciding with nate's rant, you've began to pour a hefty amount of vodka and lemon juice (you absolutely scoured the fridge for) into a large glass. you hand it off to andrea with a pleading "mix" as you lick the remaining lemon juice from your thumb and open cabinets to search for shot glasses.

you line up a multitude of shot glasses with various cities labeled on them as andrea pours the mixture in carefully. you immediately bring one up to nathan, "lemon drop?"

"yes, please. no way your a fucking bartender and baker?" nate's eyes widen as he receives the small glass.

"no, definitely not. just live with a girl whois always making her own drinks at home," you smile and grab your own glass as the rest of the girls follow suit.

"i need this right now," remi starts, "let's cheers to drea's DIY shit and nathan making it through the rest of the night!" she woops and the group all let out various chuckles.

"a-fuckin'-men!" nate leans to clink the small glasses softly before taking the shot quickly. he barely recovers from the shot before he's pouring more vodka into his glass and taking a second.

you get the best view of chris turning the corner and seeing you all (his reaction is more specifically for andrea) have arrived. his jaw hangs dramatically as he walks over but quickly turns to a big smile when the group all start to sing happy birthday to him. "stop it! stop it!" he jokes and begins to give out hugs and thank each of you for coming. he stops and squeezes you extra tight, bringing up the cakes sat nearby, "i know that bakery anywhere. thank you for my cake."

"of course, i had to," you smile.

"no seriously, you're fuckin' awesome, girl." you can tell he's already a little buzzed from the look in his eyes but you also know he's almost more truthful than ever when drunk.

you notice that when he leaves you to finally greet your roommate, it's very clear he's purposely left andrea last to ensure there would be no rush on his interaction.

the rest of the group leave them to their own world for a moment; as the two hug chris gives her a soft kiss on her forehead, whispering "hi, mi cariña (my darling)" an inside joke between the two of them as chris' struggle with speaking spanish never fails to make andrea laugh.

౨ৎ

"okay, okay, i'll do it," matt finally gives in, lifting himself off of the black couch with people piled on top of it. he hands his drink over to elijah smoothly and begins to playfully rub his hands together.

"'hold my beer' headass," elijah jokes placing the cup off on a side table next to him. matt stops any movement, turning his torso to look back at the boy and start to laugh while holding both middle fingers up.

"matt," erin taps him with the side of her arm twice to get his attention again, handing him the second wii remote in her hands. the screen appears extra bright in contrast to the dimness of the room which causes matt to wonder how the fuck anyone has managed to play just dance in this space without getting a sudden head rush or worse.

"okay, let's do timber because it's classic," she suggests.

"let's not," matt opposes, his hand covering his mouth to hide a grin before running his cursor over the other choices.

erin looks over to him with a blank expression, "i mean i don't care that much you can-"

"'m joking, we'll do timber," matt looks from her to the colorful screen to find the song once more.

when he notices she's stiil looking over at him with an unreadable expression, matt smiles big attempting to not laugh, causing his already-slim eyes to pinch a little extra as he turns to her, "hey e, the screen's right up there, you won't be getting much direction from starin' at me-" he breaks into obnoxious laughter mid-way through his sentence which earns him a small smack on the arm.

erin laughs a little now, "would you stop it? just click 'a' on your fucking remote."

he does as she says and looks to her as the screen loads, "thereee we go, you can cool down now, sweetheart."

as the two dance both matt and his friends make one-off comments and jokes about the many times matt almost fell (and would make sure to blame it on the rug or his shoes). they seem to be having such a great time that you don't know if you only being there for the final few lines of the song, watching erin ride matt's back as they spin in circles laughing, is fortunate or unfortunate.

the claps and whistles are wild when the two finish with a bow, the crowd around them only getting louder when matt teases that he's so hot he might have to take off his shirt, lifting it slightly then putting it back down and calling them pervs. you only shake your head and bite back a smile, hating how fucking charming he is when he allows himself to be completely lost in a good time.

matt would say you snuck onto the sectional couch- because a minute ago you weren't there and now here you are talking elijah's ear off and taking repeated hits of his blunt.

but you wouldn't say you snuck into his area, rather walked in a manner in which you'd be out of his and erin's way- of course not taking away from the birthday boy and his...good friend. so you're a bit surprised he slumps on the couch next to you and not in his original spot on the opposite side of eli, "sunnnyy," he huffs and leans his head back against the couch, "when'd you get here, huh?"

you turn to look at him and he smiles at you then looks up to the ceiling, "think an hour ago? maybe?" you hand him the blunt.

"cool, cool, cool..." matt repeats cutting himself off by placing it in his mouth. he's dressed so stylish and attractive you can't help but scan over him with your eyes; his jersey-style shirt showing off his armfuls of tattoos, baggy jeans, car keys hanging on a cheetah print clip attached to his belt loop, shoes that look straight out of the box, a matching hat that you honestly wish he'd take off, and his signature silver jewelry brightening his attributes in the otherwise dark room.

he makes the slightest "tsss" sound when breathing in the drug before speaking with smoke plummeting from his mouth, "you should dance next," he brings it back to his mouth for a final hit.

"mmm maybe...if lucas is up for it," you play with the metal can of a wine cooler that you hold on your bare knee as matt leans over you to hand an occupied eli his blunt back, his laugh trails smoke out of his mouth and into your face as he slouches back next to you.

"forgot you're fuckin, hilarious! holy shit." his hand makes its way up his own shirt to rest on his stomach as he giggles.

a smile grows on your face, "no seriously is he here?" you lift yourself up a little and pretend to look for the familiar face.

"stop that." matt chuckles and tugs your wrist gently. you almost get nervous this time when you look him in the eyes. when he's drunk, matt is so carefree and giggly in a way you rarely get to see. and now you’re starting to notice how the poor lighting makes his features appear arched and his face look carved into, yet the jagged becomes soft and fuzzy whenever the gumdrop-colored lights of the wii game hit his face with the beat of the song. he notices your staring and lets go of your wrist, "what's up?"

"nothing."

"excuse me everyone! i would like to give a speech! hello, i am giving a speechhh! everyone shut up, please!" nick projects his voice into the microphone- he stole from the karaoke machine -while standing on a dining room chair.

as people start to calm down nick speaks, "right, so, it's my fuckin' birthday!” he raises his arms and dances his fingers before pointing out matt, “and it's matt's fuckin' birthday, right over there! let's get some flashlights pointing over to my brother please!" matt’s face flushes as he covers his eyes from the sudden bright lights. you squint your own eyes from next to him and move closer to eli to avoid the flashes.

"and it's chris' fuckin' birthday..." nick looks around, "i couldn't tell you where exactly he is, just know that he is also here tonight!” the crowd roars, “anyway... i'm so- so happy to have you all with us tonight to celebrate. we turn twenty fucking three and... that feels so old saying it out loud. holy shit." nick cringes obnoxiously, slurring his next few words, "but i love my two best friends in the whole world: chris and matt, i wouldn’t wish to share a birthday with anyone else… and i love all of you thank you again. oh! and shout out nathan for holding this shit down! if you see nathan give him something... i don't know- money? a kiss? a drink? fuck if i know." as nick speaks cameron nudges him with a shot glass which he finally acknowledges, "and apparently this is a toast now so, you know, here's to getting older and having the most fun forever!" he raises the glass in the air and drinks it without further thought, inviting everyone to do the same while cheering and applauding him in excitement.

you raise your wine cooler and let out many cheers along with the rest, but of course matt ridicules you a little in jest, "really? you sit here and 'woo' while i'm going blind?!" he’s still wiping at his eyes, dealing with the aftermath of bright lights shining in his eyes; his vision tainted with faint blue and red splotches only for a second. you lean closer to him, attempting to see his eyes better while uncontrollably laughing.

"are you crying?!"

matt thinks you look really pretty even when you're quite literally pointing and laughing in his face. you move his hands away from his face and he widens his eyes dramatically, "look, no 'm not!” you shake your head in response, “does really it look like it?"

you notice his bottom eyelashes are slightly clumped and you move your hand closer, placing your thumb under his eye, "baby, that's damp!" you giggle and pull his hand close, using your thumb to draw a wet line across his tattooed wrist to prove your point.

he drags out his first word, "alrighttt. whatever! you got me, sweet girl. ‘cause god forbid i have the ability to cry?!” pulling away from you with a smile as he dries his eyes by rubbing them gently.

matt excuses himself with a quick "gonna go grab another drink or somethin'" before he does something irrational like kiss you in front of all these fucking people.

౨ৎ

you carefully open each of the packaged cakes, each revealing the boys' full names written in cursive with the uniquely styled and colored buttercream frosting you made that very morning. you used the same shades to make the puffed frosting border of the cakes, for an easy, soft garnish. remi follows behind you, lighting candles on the cakes as you go.

there's a chaos that comes with trying to gather this many (drunk) people in one area and capture their attention long enough to sing then cut cakes. it doesn’t help that the hosts are at their most unserious themselves; matt and nick both snickering and making jokes while holding onto each other while chris talks to one of his friends off to the side with his obnoxiously loud voice without regard for anyone around him.

“okay, people we’re singing!” nathan attempts to yell over the loudness of the crowded room. you and remi are then in the position of getting the attention of the birthday boys who can’t focus on the task at hand, leaving you both to snap your fingers and call them as if you were attempting to take photos of a stubborn baby.

you truly wish it didn’t irk you so terribly but you can’t help your annoyance when matt looks over to erin after she shouts from next to you, “matt, can you pay attention? your cake’s ready,” and he listens, moving nick off of him with a shoulder nudge and laugh as he approaches the row of cakes.

you recover quickly with a smile once both matt and nick’s eyes widen and mouths hang open in awe of your hard work, “s’perfect,” matt whispers to himself, now adjusting his hat to fit backwards.

“oh my god, the wax got in my cake! what the fuck,” nick whines and that cues drea to tug chris’ arm softly and urge him with a hushed, “chris ven aquí (come here)!”

and he's is down so terribly that he moves to where she wants him immediately.

chris is a known sap, especially when wasted, so he’s stood fighting the urge to cry when taking in the scene in front of him: his brothers and friends gathered together to celebrate their twenty three years of life together.

he tucks his lip into his mouth and looks down at the burning flame, slowly smiling when everyone around them begin to sing a rendition of happy birthday with all the charmingly bad high notes and run on “you”s but not forgetting to crunch all three names into a single line.

midway through the song, chris leans to hug matt in comfort while sneaking a reach into matt’s back pocket to grab the slim joint he just knew would be there. he grins to himself, “sweet! free j and free light,” placing it into his mouth as he leans over his cake to spark the joint hanging in his mouth with as much precision as possible. andrea shakes her head in confusion while filming on her phone beside to you.

“dude,” matt lets out a breathy laugh while waving his hand to clear the atmosphere of the potent smoke. sudden applause recognizing the end of the song and leading the three to blow out their candles.

matt gave up on birthday wishes a while into his teen years and nothing changes this year; he blows his candles out and claps along with the crowd before accepting his joint from chris for a few puffs of celebration.

you watch in amusement as nathan distracts the boys with shots to get them away from the cakes as andrea begins to cut. except no shot could beat the view of andrea bent over the counter like she is now, so chris is practically on top of drea with annoying whines of “i wanna see,” when she asks him to be careful and wait a second.

you, however, are actively searching for the spiked punch that elijah recommended when you run into erin and matt talking. they both look to you with different expressions as you squeeze yourself by them to get to the punch bowl.

you remind yourself that erin is your friend, not your enemy. nor your competition. meaning you also have to remind yourself that matt is some guy you fuck around with, not your boyfriend.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in while grabbing a plastic cup and using a small ladle to pour the peach colored liquid for yourself. instead of flat-out staring at the two, you take turns looking from them to your cup. you watch as they pose for a picture; erin taking his hat to place on her own head and matt smiling next to her. and another with her kissing his cheek as he laughs.

it’s upsetting- no, humiliating to you. and how especially humiliating that your first thought is whether he’ll dismiss you for erin when you ask him to fuck you later tonight? you blame the weed for getting you so worked up over minutiae interactions.

you’re brought out of your daze in the most humbling of ways: a sudden splash hits your bare foot and covers your black kitten heels in the sticky juice. “fuck,” you groan and place the ladle back into the punch bowl, taking a large sip of your overflowing drink as you look down at the puddle of pink you’re standing in.

you find a towel laying nearby and lower yourself to fumble and wipe your shoe.

“damn y/n, you like my punch that much?” a voice asks from next to you.

you look up and see lucas smiling down at you, “you made it?” you ask genuinely as he helps you rise to standing again.

“no,” he smiles and you roll your eyes, “but im wondering how you managed to spill any with this itty bitty fucking ladle?” he jokes, lifting the ladle and watching it pour the small bit of juice it managed to gather back into the bowl.

“i just wasn’t paying attention,” you laugh and sip your drink again.

“mhm…why’s that?” he squints his eyes down at you.

you tap two of your french tip fingernails against your skull, “so much is happening up here.”

“like what?”

“i don’t knowww,” you smirk and look away to take another sip of your drink.

“well, i know you look sexy as fuck in this dress right now. look at you,” he wets his lips and offers his hand to you with a grin, showing off a few of his shining tooth gems.

you try to maintain your composure and not smile too big but it’s a challenge when he playfully gets you to spin slowly for him and show off the tiny strapless dress you have on as he “oouu”s and whistles to hype you up.

“mm, you like that?” you look up at him, blinking slowly.

he nods and chuckles, “you know damn well-” looking off to the side then gaining your eye contact once more as he wipes over his mouth with his hand, glancing over your body, “‘course i do.”

"good. we should dance then," you guide him to the living room with his hand still in yours.

౨ৎ

you hate to be the bitch on her phone at a party but you can’t stop staring at it. you tap past the story then go back to look again. you even rewatch it in the perspective of someone who hadn’t been there to see the photo taken to see how it would be perceived. hurting your own feelings knowing they could very well assume matt to be erin’s boyfriend with how close they’re standing and her lips against his face.

it’s very dizzying and ruining your high quite a bit, especially paired with andrea who continues to look to you to celebrate after every ping pong ball she throws whether she makes it or not.

you go to rewatch the story once more, only this time a text from matt slides down on your screen to interrupt your sulking:

MATT

Hey come here

Y/N

where???

MATT

Outside youll see me

you let andrea know you’re going outside for air before walking over to a glass sliding door to let yourself out.

you see matt holding a stick while looking down at his phone, fire pit radiating next to him, a mass of people surrounding it.

your arms wrap and hold onto your shoulders as you walk closer, feeling the breeze rack through your body despite the internal heat from the many drinks you've had over the course of the night.

as you approach, asha gets up from her spot on nick's lap to give you a hug, "y/n! hiii." she pulls away and her hands remain on your shoulders, "your cake was so delicious, i tried a bite of each."

"oh good, 'm glad." you smile.

she feels your hands, "are you cold, babe? come sit." she guides you over to the group of people sat around the fire. "you can take my spot, i'll stand," she insists and nick agrees smiling kindly.

you interrupt matt's texting to figure out why he wanted you here, cupping your hands to shout, "matt!" across the lawn from your spot atop nick.

he looks over and quips his head while moving closer, "hey, was just wonderin' if you'd try my s'more? nick thinks he makes them best." he smiles but you can't help but feel that there's a catch to this.

"always gotta prove someone wrong. yeah, i'll do it." you agree as he moves to grab the snack he'd apparently already prepared.

nick mutters, "don't let him bully you into liking his, and don't forget who's acting as your chair currently!" from behind you as you giggle into the bite that matt gives you, holding the smore in his hand up to your mouth.

you chew slowly and matt watches, chatter and crinkles of the fire filling the heated space. you finally nod your head and matt smirks, "so good, right?" matt asks and brings his hand to hold your face and wipe around the corner of your mouth, looking to his right with a smile then back to you.

you feel awkwardly and unnaturally sensual, moving his hand away from your face and searching for what he's looked over to, catching the eye of lucas, standing with a group of guys lighting up near a fence. so that is the fucking catch.

you lick your lips of any remaining marshmallow and shake your head, annoyed, "i don't know, it tastes normal and graham cracker is fucking stale." you look up at him and his face is adorned with confusion on your change of heart.

you feel too fucking weird about this. you wish you couldn't believe that he'd use your feelings towards him for some weird shit like claiming you from lucas, but it's not surprising in the slightest; matt wants his cake yet he'll always want to eat it too.

"yeah, nick wins." you pat the side of nick's thigh to grab his attention and tell him the news, making him cheer and bring you into his chest for a small hug.

matt's lips form the smallest pucker as he watches you get up and walk towards the house without further conversation.

"bye, y/n!" asha yells.

౨ৎ

matt lays flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling to try and organize his many thoughts when his door creaks slightly, allowing a roar of party chatter into his space before it shuts again.

he lifts only his head up to see erin stood with a small smile before letting himself fall back into his plush comforter, "hey, i got your shit in the first drawer over there." he points to a tall dresser across the room.

he listens to her shuffle around before finding a large bag of weed, coming close to him and placing a few folded bills in his front pocket slowly. she then moves so that she hovers over his dazed face, "thank you, are you sure you don't need anything else from me? it is your birthday..." she grins and runs a hand over his chest. he mimics her smile (intended in more of a mocking way than she takes it) and laughs softly.

"no, i'm good on that, e. you enjoy your doobies and shit," he continues to softly laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides before she thanks him again and gives him a small peck.

"happy birthday, matty!" she sings before closing the door to his room and heading straight to his bathroom next door to pee.

matt would say it hasn't even been four minutes since erin left him when you're stumbling into his room. he repeats his look up, only to soften a bit when he sees you make effort to move some of his shoes out of the walkway so that you don't trip, "hi, baby" he waves you over with his fingers and welcomes you as if you'll be staying for long, "lock that door for me." he figures if you came to see him after storming away like that at the fire pit you're either gonna spit your thoughts in his face or sit on his face, there's no in between.

"i found you," you smile and twist the smaller knob to lock the door from the rowdiness. you then make your way over to sit at the end of his bed and begin to fiddle with the straps on your tiny heels, "my feet have been achin' so bad," you look at him as you complain.

"mm, i'm sure."

when your feet are finally free from your shoes you place them on the ground and adjust yourself on the bed. you silently grimace seeing matt with his shoes remaining on his feet despite being on his bed.

he giggles when you begin to unlace them, "feel like a fuckin' princess."

you roll your eyes and begin to pull them off, "with the way you act you might as well be one."

"ouch? it's my birthday," he holds his heart while looking to you playfully.

you tilt your head and drop his second shoe right on the floor as you stare back at him, "oh, i know."

"right. what's wrong now?"

you run your hands along his legs as you inch up his body and hover yourself over his crotch, "nothing. everything's fine, right?" you adjust your hair away from your face.

"sure, uh huh," matt looks up at you and bites his lower lip while moving his hands to hold and squeeze your full thighs. he silently admires the way you fill that tiny dress and look down at him from this angle.

you look away for a moment then decide to put your full weight onto matt, muffled groan leaving his mouth. your lips curve up as you pull his bottom lip from his mouth with your thumb to replace it with your mouth, sucking and kissing it. your tongue runs over his lips a few times before matt takes hold of your head and pulls you impossibly closer to capture your mouth messily with his own.

the kiss is a filthy, drunken sight: noses meshing and colliding, tongues playing and licking, and moans escaping and ringing into the air desperately.

you pull away with a wet smack and whisper into his lips, "i've got another present for you..."

"mmm?" his eyes widen and he squeezes your neck gently, kissing you once more, "for real? like, more than this?!" his hand feathers over your ass, insinuating the way you're sat on top of him right now could easily be his best gift tonight.

"yes," you breathe then begin to giggle, "you're gonna lose your shit, i think."

his mind can think of a lot of things you could do to make him lose his shit, "damn, okay. well, show me. you got my stomach dancin' and shit." he holds you so that you stay put as he lifts himself to rest on his elbows.

your smile bites over your bottom lip now as you raise yourself from his lap once more. your nail taps against your upper thigh as you look down at him, "kiss, please?"

he doesn't have to move much, as your leg is already so close to his face. he keeps heated eye contact with you when he kisses and marks the skin you'd point to, causing small mindless noises to fall from your mouth as you play with his soft hair (that you unfortunately hadn't seen much of tonight).

when he's finished he looks up to you with his red, puffy eyes and wet lips as you thank him, "now...pay attention." you gently demand as you slowly move your dress up your body.

matt studies your movement in awe, eventually catching your gift in his line of sight. he knows you must think you're so sneaky when you only show a glimmer of your lacy white panties, with a cursive red "M" embroidered near the waistband, before quickly pushing your dress back down with an uncontrollable laugh.

matt's face morphs to express a million different emotions and he doesn't realize how loud his voice is when he speaks, "what the fuck?!" he looks up at you- with your head thrown back laughing -then back to your covered lower half. "what was that? hold the fuck on," you body is so loose with laughter that he easily grabs you and flips you onto the bed so that you lay underneath him, still squirming in your own giggles (yelling a few "matt!"s or "matt wait i can't breathe!"s).

his face is full of amusement when he firmly lifts your dress to get a better look at what you've done for him. "oh my god, 'm gonna pass the fuck out. look at you, sunny!" he rubs his eyes dramatically and shakes his head. "no, you're so bad."

"you like it?" you ask, licking over your lips and reaching your hands up to trace the small hairs prickling on matt's jawline.

"course i do, the fuck type of question is that?!" he turns his face to kiss your inner palm before bending closer to kiss your lips once more.

"happy birthday, matt." you say in between kisses, "there's somethin' else if you look a little more."

"really?" he immediately splits from you and looks to your panties once more, running his hands over your lower stomach. the cherry red joint laying against your hip and tucked into your underwear catches him by surprise but the stoner in him nearly cums on the spot.

he removes it from it's place and kisses you mumbling a reminder that "you're so hot" and "the marijuana bug must've bit you real bad" before he gets up to store it in his bedside table, patting the closed drawer and joking, "for when i miss you."

he stands above you for an extra second to shake his head slowly with a tut, but when you whine "c'mereee," he's hushing you and removing his shirt before crawling back on top of you.

your hands run across every inch of his warm torso as you both sloppily kiss, and matt's own hands curiously make their way into your underwear for a proper feel of your wet core.

he allows you to desperately grind your hips against his hand until he eventually decides he needs to taste you. he lowers himself to face your clothed pussy, tracing the "M" with a finger as he places his tongue flat against you and places pressure on your most sensitive area.

his finger once tracing, now moves to pull the tiny piece of fabric off of you. he looks into your eyes as he easily stuffs the cloth in his back pocket, mumbling "mine now" while moving his fingers through your sticky folds.

you cry out when he dips two fingers into you teasingly, over and over again, and another series of moans leaves your mouth when he begins to lick over your clit eagerly.

matt continues his efforts, spitting on your clit a few times to watch it drip down to where his fingers harshly move inside of you; his movements quickening while he watches.

and just before you cum you dumbly warn him, which makes him stop entirely. "no, matt. stop, please come back. please."

"shhh. don't start that shit, you'll cum twice on your day..." he unbuttons his pants, "plus, you know it feels so much better when you wait and have to chase it a few times." he smirks and nudges your clit with his finger once more making you breathe out a moan and close your legs around his hand.

he pulls away from you to finish undressing before laying back dowm in his tight boxers, "come take care of me, sunny. i need you."

"hm...and i needed you too..." you lift yourself up and pout as you climb off the bed and get closer to where he lies, turning and moving your hair away for your back, "unzip me, please?"

he does just as you say and watches you finish removing your dress in only one movement. when you climb on top of him he now gets a view of your tits directly in his face that has him humming and immediately feeling you up.

he kisses and licks the skin while you scratch at his scalp in the most sensual way. you reach behind you to dip your hand into his boxers, immediately coming in contact with his sensitive and slightly sticky tip. he tilts his head back with a groan as soon as you begin to stroke him beneath the fabric making a sinical smile form on your face.

you push the boxers further down his thighs to fully expose him as you bring your lips down to him again. his moans flow into your mouth when you repeatedly rush your movements then slowly circle his head.

eventually matt's eyebrows pinch in terribly tight and he grabs your hand, sighing, "god damn, baby. chill or i'll be cummin' before i'm inside you."

you roll your eyes playfully, "okay?" as you adjust yourself to align over his length, before sinking down on top of him.

"mmm, fuck." he encourages when you lift yourself and slam back down on top of him. you move his hands to hold your hips then spread your hands over his chest as you continue.

matt can't help but slap your ass a few times after discovering the way your muscles flutter around him so perfectly each time. but one smack in particular aids you to practically fall onto his chest whining, "matt i can't, please just-."

he immediately lifts your face to give him a much needed kiss before reaching to realign himself and hold onto you as he thrusts rhythmically into you.

moans sneak from your mouth and interrupt you from kissing and holding onto matt's neck, which only encourage matt until he's completely flustered and drilling into you sloppily.

matt can tell you're cumming by your all too and familiar broken moans. and once you harshly kiss him and ask him to let go in return he finally stills inside of you and groans into your soft shoulder.

a silence coats the room, leaving the overpowering music and talking of the party to linger through the air in a cloudy murmur.

matt keeps his arms around you while you recover from your high, staring at the ceiling of his faintly lit room in questionable thought.

and he assumes you must be doing the same; only he mistakes the wetness of your tears for his own sweat as you turn your head away from him to dissolve your embarrassingly shaky breaths.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list is in the replies ily!!!!

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader

[fallingbuns]

Oc doodle dump but its just my oc Reina

Everyone say hiiii reinaaaa!!!

#my art #oc #original characters #airs chaotic ocs #art #original character

[saturnville]

on the frontline, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (major lanessa "nessa" dixon) content: in an unlikely event, john meets another major during the war, but she isn't what he expects. warnings: medical inaccuracies. an: Nessa is inspired by major della raney jackson, first black major of the army nurse corps. tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste

The mess hall bustled with deep voices and the screeching of rubber soles against the dirty floor. The sun shone through the dusty windows and onto the leather-covered backs of the soldiers. An aroma of breakfast filled the atmosphere and wrapped its arms around them like a warm hug. The chefs made a large meal before missions. It was the last meal some men had to cherish. 

At a long table sat 13 men; two majors, two captains, a lieutenant, and eight sergeants. The conversations were minimal, until a sergeant spoke, “Have you met the new nurse?” He whistled he guzzled down a hefty bowl of oatmeal. He grunted after swallowing the hot oats and slurped down the black coffee beside his arm. “She’s a beauty!”

There was a discourse among the men who tried to figure out when they’d see the newly hired nurses. The wages of war came at a high price. Death and injury seemed to be a suitable payment to the creditor. To combat that, the service brought on extra hands to give medical assistance to the troops, especially with more men being enlisted to serve. Hundreds of thousands of men prepared to put their lives on the line; the least they could have was efficient medical care. 

“They all are,” another commented. “50 more nurses and half of ‘em are Black. Came in with them Tuskegee Airmen. Never seen anything like it.” 

As the pilots bantered about the new nurses, Major John Egan kept his gaze fixed on his coffee, his mind elsewhere. The arrival of more nurses was a reminder of the harsh realities of war, the constant influx of fresh faces tasked with patching up the broken bodies that returned from the front lines. Dread settled deep in his stomach at the thought of encountering them under such circumstances. With a curt nod, he urged his comrades to focus on the day ahead. Meanwhile, the chatter of the mess hall continued, blending with the clinking of utensils and the low hum of conversations.

“Haven’t seen them,” he spoke from behind the rim of his coffee. “Hoping I never have to. Let’s get going, boys.”  “Yes, sir.” 

-

“Major Egan’s hit!” For a moment, there was silence. Then, it wound up again when the wounded leader crossed the threshold into the infirmary.

The infirmary was chaotic. Loud cries and deep groans filled the air. Trays and metal utensils kissed one another as they were tossed on carts filled with supplies. White coats here and there sifted throughout the room as green bodies wheeled more patients into the large room. 

His breathing was ragged and heavy. With blurred vision caused by tears surfacing in the ducts on his eyes, it was difficult to navigate the infirmary without bumping into objects and solid bodies. His feet were heavy as he stumbled further into the infirmary. 

"I got you, Bucky," Gale's voice was frantic as he hoisted the pilot on his body. "You're gonna be alright, y'hear me?" If he had the strength, he would have replied. His heartbeat was in his ears and his stomach was in his throat. He'd never been shot before. Would this be the end of his career as a pilot? He groaned in agony. 

"I need a nurse!" Gale hollered, his husk voice reverberating off the walls. "He's been shot. Bullet is still in his shoulder."

In front of him appeared a nurse. A highly ranked nurse, at that. She was dressed differently than the others. There was no matching white skirt set with a pretty hat, no, she was dressed just like him. Dark leather jacket, heavy pants, and dark boots. On her chest was a multitude of badges and pins, including one that was similar to the one on Gale's chest. Major. Well, he'd be damned.

She didn't stay in his sight long, as she began giving orders to two other nurses, who were preparing a bed. She ushered her patient to another nurse and wrapped her black stethoscope around her neck. Around her wrist was a small hair-tie which she used to pull her curls into a makeshift bun. With a thunderous voice, she ordered, “Bessie, get him on a stretcher and bring him to me.”

A fellow nurse, Bessie assisted Gale in getting John on a stretcher. Gale stood behind the ladies, the tip of his thumb against his teeth. As the stretcher was rolled toward her station, she made a quick work of the gloves and ordered him to stay calm. “I’m gonna cut your shirt, okay? I need you to remove your hand so I can take a look. Take deep breaths for me.”

Beads of sweat trailed down John's forehead as he gritted his teeth. His nostrils flared and his jaw shook as he tried to keep his sounds to a minimum. The nurse above him chuckled, which caught his attention. "What's funny?" He managed to ask. 

She pushed his stubborn hand to the side and used her scissors to split his shirt in half. She was unfazed as blood trickled out of the open wound. It was ugly, but she knew how to make ugly beautiful. The wound was a wicked one, but it was a clean shot that managed to miss the muscle. It would be an easy retrieval. 

"No reason to play big man and conceal your pain here, Major. You got shot. The shit hurts. You can let it hurt here." She pressed her stethoscope against his chest. Heartbeat still strong, she noted. Wavering just slightly, but strong. She called for extra hands. "Administer the shot into the upper right shoulder."

John's eyes were on her as she worked. Her brown eyes were gentle and they remained on him as she poked, but her tone was stern as she said, "Major Cleven, if you'd like to stay, you must stay behind that line. Major Egan, you just received a numbing agent to reduce the sensation. The bullet is retrievable. If you feel anything unbearable,  you let me know. I'll stitch you up good as new afterword, am I clear?" 

John’s stomach twisted at her authority. His tongue scraped across the roof of his mouth as he nodded, "Yes ma'am."

"Wonderful. Scalpel, please." 

-

"How is he?" Gale's voice was unclear. He felt groggy. His head was a boulder on his shoulders and he felt confined to the small, yet comfortable bed he laid in. 

"He'll be just fine, Major. He took it like a champ. He'll be out of commission for six to twelve weeks and will be ordered to physical therapy upon return to base. Don't give me that look, now; he is not fit for battle right now, but he will be okay, I can reassure you that. My nurses and I will take good care of him just like we will everyone else."

John heard Gale's sigh of worry. "Okay, you're right. Thank you, Major..." 

She chuckled lightly. "Nessa Dixon." 

"Major Dixon. Thank you for all you've done." 

"No problem at all. You come to me tomorrow if that wrist is still giving you problems and I’ll wrap it again for you, okay? Get some rest, you'll need it." They exchanged goodbyes and the sound of Gale's footsteps retreating became clear. Finally, John's heavy eyelids peeled open. 

"Nice to see you again," she spoke after some time. She was leaning against the wall, hands stuffed into her pockets. and her stethoscope dangling from her neck. "How are you feeling?" She made her way toward him, sitting on the stool she set at the bedside. 

John groaned as he tried to readjust. His shoulder was wrapped tightly. He couldn't move even if he tried. Amelia jumped up and propped a pillow up. "Easy now..."

"Thank you," he replied gruffly. "I'm sore. Tired. And I need a damn drink." 

His response pulled a laugh from her. Not the small chuckle she'd release here and there, no, a hearty laugh. It made him smile. "You and me both. Let's get you up and moving first. Your procedure went well. You are to stay out of combat for--"

"Six to twelve weeks with physical therapy upon return to base," he repeated her words, clearly unamused. Nessa smiled, clearly amused. 

"Good to know you listen," she replied.

John hummed. "I do, Major. Didn't know that was a thing for nurses." He hated to seem painfully ignorant, but it’s what he was at that moment. Nurses in his unit rarely received titles, unless they’d done something extraordinary or had been in service for an extended period. But she, she looked young. Like she couldn’t be much older than he was.

Nessa nodded. She was one of the first Black nurses accepted into the Army Nurse Corps after they began accepting Black women. She worked her way up the chain, she explained, earning the same prestigious he carried. On the same level as a white man whose life was in her hands. Who would've guessed? 

"Nessa is just fine right now," she suggested. "I should let you rest. I'll do one more check before I head out. Major Cleven will be here in the morning, I'm sure. Do you need anything, Major?"

"John," he said gently, tired blue eyes gazing into hers. "And I'm okay. Thank you for everything." 

She gave one nod before leaving him alone and releasing the breath she wasn't aware she held.

-

“Nessa.” The woman sighed heavily and dropped her clipboard against the makeshift desk. Silence wasn’t a thing during war. Constant movement, moaning and groaning, the calling of her name. All she wanted was a moment of silence. It was nonexistent.

“Yes?” She didn’t turn around. But, she recognized the voice. Deep. Full of rasp. The way he said her name. It was familiar. Her eyes dropped to her clipboard, scattered with notes and reports that needed to be sent to the leader physicians. 

“Why are you awake? I thought you were leaving.” 

Her eyes dropped to the watch on her wrist. 1:43am. She’d been up for almost 24 hours. She shrugged and picked up her pen to scribble on the paper more. “I can ask you the same thing, Major. You’re supposed to be sleeping. Why aren’t you sleeping?” 

Finally, Nessa turned around. She regretted it. John Egan was a handsome man. She knew that, but she was too focused on ensuring he didn’t lose his arm to focus on his features. But in this moment, in the dimly lit infirmary with no one else present, she had every opportunity to do so. And, she regretted it. 

He was tall. Much taller than she was. She assumed her head would be at his shoulder, still leaving inches of distance between them. Though his face was littered with scrapes and healing scars, it seemed to illuminate his beauty. His eyes were blue, a strong contrast against his dark, curly hair. A strong nose and straight lips that she was sure felt amazing. His upper lip was cut in the corner and dried blood remained. He must’ve begun anxiously picking at it.

He managed to change his clothes. Major Cleven must have had something to do with that. He was dressed in dark sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She was curious as to how he got his arm through the sleeve, but she’d heckle him about it later in the day. His curls were damp and tousled messily. God, he was beautiful. Bruised and all. 

He chuckled and slowly sat in the chair opposite of her. He groaned softly and readjusted himself to come into a comfortable position. “I can ask you the same question.”

She shrugged, “I’ve got paperwork to do. Go to bed, John. You can’t heal if you don’t rest.” 

“You gonna tuck me in?” John’s tone was teasing. Nessa’s eyebrows raised and the pilot threw his head back as he laughed heartily. It was the first time he laughed with passion in a while, and she couldn’t help but crack a smile as well. 

“You’re in a good mood. Let’s go. You’re going to bed and I’m going to sleep in the infirmary just in case..” She pushed up from her chair and tucked her documents into a folder. She nodded toward the door and the pilot followed suit. 

They walked side by side in silence back to the infirmary, which was near the resting area for the injured who didn’t make it back to their chambers. Luckily, everyone had. Nessa’s eyebrows raised as John lay on the same bed he was on earlier. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m your just in case,” he said simply. He laid his head against the pillow and watched as she stood still. Nessa swallowed thickly. It took her brain extra effort to tell her feet to move. She sat on the edge of the bed to pull her heavy boots off her feet. She sighed in relief. 

Nessa swung her feet on the bed and allowed her body to mold into the comfortable mattress. Her eyelids felt heavy, but still, she found his gaze. “Goodnight, John.” 

“Goodnight, Nessa.” 

Though they did not say anything to one another after that, she found comfort in the silence. They found solace in the quiet of the infirmary that kept them through the rest of the night. Together.

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #mota fanfiction #john egan #bucky egan #major john egan #major john egan x amelia mae egan #major john egan x reader #callum turner x reader #callum turner x black!reader #callum turner x black reader #callum turner x reader #callum turner #major john egan x black!reader #john egan x reader #major john egan x black reader #major john egan x major nessa dixon by saturnville

[hyunfilms]

blue side of the sky (lmh) | thirteen.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: waking up after 3 months with no recollection of your past, your friends do what they can to help you remember. except, they omit an important piece to the puzzle - afraid you would remember the heartbreak and hurt all over again.

—pairing: lee know x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers, bestfriends to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.8k

—chapter content/warnings: day with the boys!!, soccer games and new friends, oc tapping back into her drawing, small affectionate kisses, other small gestures of affection, a bbq at the house with some karaoke lol, alcohol consumption/intoxication (not oc), protected sex, clit play/fingering, neck kisses, very soft and tender moments between oc x minho

"Where's the cooler?" You ask Jisung as you neatly stack the blankets and bags of food into Chan's trunk.

"What cooler?" You cock a brow up and place a hand on your hip.

"You mean to tell me we were going to the park without any water or other drinks?" At this point, Minho and Chan are walking out of the house rolling a cooler and holding another tray of food.

"That's why you can't ask him to do anything." Minho chimes in.

"I remembered! I just.. was gonna do it last so the ice wouldn't melt, you know?" Chan laughs loudly.

"Mm, yeah sure." Chan responds after setting the cooler into the trunk, shutting it close and letting out a content sigh. "Are we ready? Where's Seungmin?"

"Seungmin is here." Seungmin walks out of the house and locks the front door before raising his camera. "Almost forgot this badboy." He runs straight to the passenger side. "Shotgun!" He laughs and slips himself into the seat.

"I'll sit in the middle." You shrug, sliding in so that the two boys can have their space at the end seats. Once everyone is buckled in and ready to go, Chan drives off to a park roughly 30 minutes away. You shut your eyes during the ride, leaning onto Minho's shoulder to offset the slight motion sickness you still experience. Your friends decided it was perfect weather to hang out, get some air and play some games before heading back home in time for dinner. A few of Chan's mutual friends and Seungmin and Jisung's close coworkers were also heading to the park, making it a nice get-together that wouldn't be too chaotic [hopefully].

Chan pulls up to a spot along the curb right in front of the large grassy field, surrounded by large trees that provided sufficient shade. Chan, Seungmin and Jisung's friends were already setting up at the center of the field, running over to greet your group. They all take their turns introducing you before you take your blanket and lay it under one of the trees. Chan sets the food and the cooler next to you, making it easily accessible for the group.

"Do you need anything? Water?" Chan says, digging through the cooler to make sure the ice is still covering the drinks properly.

"Please." You give him a toothless smile as he hands you a cold bottle.

"Medicine?"

"Took it this morning at the house."

"Food?" He points to the insulated bag that holds some gimbap that his mom made.

"Maybe in a bit." You giggle.

"Okay. Holler if you need us, yeah?" He calls out just as he's beginning to run over to his friends. The group starts acting chaotically, even as they work through dividing teams and back-ups. You giggle to yourself when Jisung gets way too carried away, acting incredibly sure of himself that he was going to carry his team to victory. Minho puts himself as backup for now, racing over to you on the blanket as the teams begin their first game of soccer. 

"Fuck, finally." He says as he plops down right next to you, already exhausted by the commotion.

"Too much going on, hm?"

"Yeah, and Jisung's all hyped and loud." You laugh and continue to sketch the field in front of you.

"Be nice."

"I am nice. Always." He smirks at you, playfully pinching your side.

"Hey!" You giggle, trying to smack his hand away from another attack. He laughs as he re-focuses on the group's game ahead, cheering for his team in between claps and yelling for them to pick up the pace. When Minho looks over at you, he smiles to himself when he catches how focused you are. You hold the pencil delicately, but your lips are formed into a pout while your brows are tightly knit. He glances at the sketch, watching the way the tip of your pencil glides over the page so flawlessly.

You had always been talented, there was no doubt about that. Before Minho fucked this all up, he used to hang up your paintings and random sketches all around his room. Even kept a napkin sketch of Link Kirby in his wallet just because he liked it so damn much and thought you were the cutest in the world— why on earth were you scribbling Link Kirby during the high school graduation party?

Even now, Minho thinks you're the cutest in the world. He doesn't wanna break the silence, but he can't help himself when he—

"Y/N." You look up from your sketchbook, glancing over to Minho on your left. He gives off a tiny, breathy laugh before smiling toothlessly at you.

"Yes?" He shakes his head. He just likes to look at you because sometimes, it's hard for him to process that this is real. That you're real, that you're here. The light bounces off your skin so flawlessly and suddenly, he's filled with overwhelming emotion—

Maybe he's gotten another chance to love you, to love you right. And if that's so, he'll never take this for granted.

"Nothing." His hand comes up to cup your cheek and you feel his thumb caress the surface. You lean into it for a bit and smile softly at him before quietly returning your attention to the sketch.

Love.

You are what Minho loves the most.

"Yo! Get your ass in there, I'm tapping out." Jisung huffs and puffs with his hands on his hips, approaching you two on the blanket. "You can do all that lovey-dovey stuff later." He tries to shoo Minho away.

"Tapping out? You didn't do anything except fall on your ass the entire time." Jisung mocks him and makes a face before firing back with:

"I was falling on my ass because I was being a good guard."

"Yeah, whatever." Minho says, jogging towards the field. 

"I'm just gonna lay here, cielo. Don't mind me." Jisung says, laying back on the blanket and closing his eyes. "If they ask for me, tell them I am off the clock."

"Of course, pachi. Whatever works for you." You chuckle to yourself as you start shading. You're convinced Jisung is fake-napping because he's awfully quiet during the time he's next to you. 

Doesn't stop everyone from calling him out and telling him to pick up the slack.

You're alone for the next half, but you get lots done with your sketches despite the yelling and chaos going on on the field. You've drawn the field, the small pond across the street. A lady walking her golden retriever. Minho and Seungmin standing off to the side as they wait. You've eaten one of the sandwiches Seungmin made, giving a piece to Minho when he runs over and steals a bite.

It's good times, good vibes.

You wanted nothing more than to have time for yourself, time to tap back into your creative spark.

Back at the house, Jisung and Minho make way for you to shower first while they get the grill going in the backyard. Seungmin has his own bathroom in his room downstairs, and he offers to switch off with Chan once he's finished. You take a quick shower, throwing on some comfy cotton shorts and a shirt before heading down the steps to the living room and kitchen area. This gives way for Jisung and Minho to shower and switch off before running back down to help in the kitchen. Once things have settled a bit more, they have music going, the boys already a few shots in while sipping on beers. Minho is preparing some side dishes in the kitchen, while Jisung and Seungmin accompany Chan at the grill.

"Hey." You gently tap his side, making him look over his shoulder. "Do you need help?" He chuckles and shakes his head.

"No. They might though." He nods over at the boys outside.

"Do you need me to take anything outside before I go?"

"Mm, maybe just the water?"

"Okay." You smile up at him as you grab the water pitcher near him.

"Thank you." He says, giving you a quick kiss on the head before you turn on your heel and meet your friends outside. You set the water down near the fire pit and outdoor sectional before asking Chan if he needs anything at the grill. He shakes his head and urges you to sit and enjoy the fire pit, the sun slowly setting beneath the horizon. 

So, you do.

You watch your friends enjoy themselves to the music, laughing and singing along from where you're at. You feel at ease, you feel alive. Everything is perfect tonight.

Sooner or later, Jisung plops onto the sectional with you, sipping on his beer before kicking his feet up. 

"You doing okay?" He asks, leaning his head back against the couch.

"I am. Are you?"

"Kinda drunk already." He burps. "Shit."

"Kinda?" You chuckle. 

"Mhm." He nods. "Were you able to draw a lot today?"

"Mm, I drew enough. It was nice."

"Good, cielo. Glad to hear." He taps your leg before letting out a breath, watching as Minho brings the side dishes out and joins Chan at the grill. Every now and then, he glances over at you two, giving you a tiny, toothless smile before returning his attention back to Chan.

"Pachi?"

"Yes?"

"Did Minho and I really go through a lot?" You prop your leg up on the sectional and place your elbow on the edge, cheek resting on the palm of your hand. He looks at you for a moment before shrugging.

"Yeah, as with anybody else. Probably the best way to explain it." He doesn't really dive into it much, and his answers are obviously vague. You're not sure if he's just letting Minho take the reigns on this, or if he says it that way because the history truly isn't that bad. Jisung looks at you with a tiny pout before following up with— "But, things are better now. Right? You two have gotten cozy." You chuckle and kick his leg.

"Don't say it like that."

"It's true, though. You two have always had love for each other." He grabs his glass and swirls his beer around for a second. "You're happy?"

"Of course I am."

"No, but. I mean with Minho." He finally looks at you with doe-eyes, partially filled with relief, the other.. [perhaps] worry?

"Oh, yeah." You shrug. "I don't have a reason to not be." Jisung looks back down at his glass before saying anything, and you're not sure what it means.

"Mm, that's good to hear." He meets your eyes with a faint smile at the corner of his lips. "All I want is for you to be happy." And Jisung says it sincerely; he means this with all his heart, even if he might've gotten too protective and tried to shield you from parts of the past. He sees you happy and comfortable with Minho, and vice versa. Even though he was mad at Minho for trying again, he was also Jisung's bestfriend and he knew he was trying. It's all he wanted after the disconnect in the beginning. He's come to understand that maybe, you'll just always have that pull to him, and there was no way Jisung would stop that. He is just afraid, and he hopes Minho has truly learned from his mistakes.

He traces the top of his glass with his finger while he listens to you playfully bicker with Seungmin now. His thoughts are bombarding him while he's drunk and he kinda hates it.

Jisung just wants you happy.

But, raw, true, genuine happiness.

That's where he messed up as your bestfriend. Because you may be happy, but he knows they've shaped it this way— they've shaped it this way so you know nothing but happiness, though there are so many things that could shift it all.

He molded your happiness. You didn't get a chance to shape that yourself, and this— this is where he feels awful.

"Food's ready." Minho calls out, making you, Jisung and Seungmin grab plates before walking towards the food. Chan gives you a good serving on your plate with a bit of everything, laughing when he sees you do a little happy dance back in your seat.

The rest of the evening is pleasant, with the boys continuing to drink after eating, moving the party inside to sing their hearts out on karaoke. Minho sits next to you the entire night, occasionally throwing his arm around you, playfully holding your hand and making sure you are comfortable. You sing along with Seungmin and Jisung from time to time, giving all the high notes to the boys to hit. 

You were having a good time, and it was fun to be with your friends under one roof again. 

When it hits close to midnight, you gather the trash and start to clean up around the house when you notice the liveliness dying down. Seungmin is still singing softly through the mic, while Jisung and Chan are dozing off after getting incredibly drunk. 

"You didn't have to do that." Minho drags himself into the kitchen, watching you wash the last of the dishes with a huge trash bag next to you.

"It's okay. It wasn't much anyway." You chuckle as you set aside the last dish on the drying rack and shake off your hands. "Could you do me a small, teensy weensy favor?" He crosses his arms and leans against the counter.

"Depends. What's in it for me?" You laugh and playfully push him.

"Please take out the trash."

"Hm, but you don't think I'm serious, huh?" He playfully smirks. "What's in it for me?" He steps closer and challenges you.

"Minho." You whine. "Please?" He puckers his lips. He's feeling a little bold tonight because of the alcohol, but he also can't say that he hasn't been yearning to do this— sober or not. And he doesn't let up. But, you find it cute how he's being persistent.

One kiss wouldn't hurt, no?

So, you tiptoe and give the guy his little kiss. He immediately blushes, ears turning red in color before he clears his throat and grabs for the trash bag.

"Will that do it?"

"Maybe. But, since you're so cute, I'll take this out anyway." You roll your eyes just as he walks out to the back and heads for the garbage bin. Seungmin is starting to simmer on the mic once Minho comes back in and washes his hands. He turns off the machine and heads to his room, giving you a big bear hug and bidding his goodnights. He says he can't wait to sleep and he hopes you'll be able to sleep well in Jisung's bed since he's knocked out on the couch.

"Do you need anything before you go to bed?"

"No. I'm just going to wash up and change. I'll probably fall asleep as soon as I get to Jisung's bed." You tell Minho. He nods, giving you a quick hug and another kiss on the head before sending you off with a 'goodnight.' You quickly wash up and get ready for bed, changing into a crewneck and matching sweats to sleep in. Stepping out into the hallway, you see Minho's door cracked open with his tv illuminating parts of his room. You let out a breath before officially parting ways— walking into Jisung's room that is clean and tidy [for once]. You open his window a bit before drawing the covers back, slipping into his bed and sending your uncle a goodnight message.

Too bad you aren't sleepy as expected. Your body feels exhausted, but your mind is awake. You toss and turn a few times, grabbing at your phone to watch a few random vlogs to try and make yourself sleepy.

But, an hour passes— close to two— and you're still not sleepy. Though, you do find yourself needing to use the bathroom again.

The house is quiet.

Somewhat.

Jisung and Chan are still passed out in the living room, with snores bouncing off the walls and echoing throughout their entire house; Seungmin is sleeping soundly in his room, probably letting his music continue to lull him into a deep sleep.

As you quietly pad down the hallway and into the bathroom, you notice Minho's door still slightly ajar— lights from his TV reflecting off of the floor. You quickly relieve yourself in the bathroom and freshen up a bit, debating on whether or not you should bother Minho at this time of night.

What else do you have to lose? Sleep wasn't finding you, and apparently, it wasn't finding Minho either.

You give three soft knocks on his door before Minho lets out a small 'yeah?' on the other side— giving you the green light to poke your head through the crack and ask:

"Playing a game and watching tv?" You giggle as you glance between his computer screen and TV.

"I was, in between." He chuckles as you awkwardly stand off to the side and softly shut his door. "What're you doing awake?"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't sleep and I saw the TV lights as I was going through the bathroom. I could go if you're gonna sleep?"

"No, it's okay." He pats his bed. "Sit and get comfortable. I just wasn't expecting you to be on the other side of the door, but I'm very glad it is you and not them bothering me." You chuckle.

"If you say so." You sit criss-crossed on his bed, letting your crewneck sleeves slip over your hands. Minho has Into the Spiderverse playing on his TV, his computer already shutting down and going into sleep mode. "Did you put this on?" You point at the screen.

"Mhm, it's the one movie series I don't mind re-watching."

"Nice." You focus on the movie for a bit, trying to pick up the pieces as to where the story was headed.

"Did you have fun today?" You glance at Minho before returning your attention to the tv.

"Yeah, I did. It was nice to draw and relax outside. Did you? It seemed like you guys had a blast playing."

"Mhm, sure did." Minho plops onto his bed and rests against his headboard, his arm lazily settling behind you with his hand on the bed. "I can change it, if you want?"

"No, you can keep it on." You give him a tiny smile before wiggling a little closer into his arm. "Minho?"

"Hm?" He hums when you turn back to look at him. You adjust your position on the bed, and Minho is able to rest his hand comfortably on the small of your back with the way you're angled. 

"Did you need to tell me something earlier? At the park?"

"Mm." He squints his eyes and furrows his brows. He knows the answer is 'yes,' but his instant response happens to be— "No. I just.. like looking at you." Your eyes soften at his sudden [and unexpected] response. "Helps me remember you're real." You look at him, stare at him, for a good while, trying to read his body language and expression. 

He is unreadable.

But, the one thing you do know is that you feel something for Minho. Almost like love, something that runs deeper.

"What do you feel when you look at me?" You ask softly, hand grabbing at his arm so that you can trace the faint lines on his palm. 

"What do I feel when I look at you?" Minho repeats before swallowing the lump in his throat because he knows he should probably be honest— but he's conflicted on how deep he's willing to go. 

Because he feels a lot when he sees you. He just doesn't wanna scare you or overwhelm you.

"Mhm." You look at him and he nods.

"Alot— I," He pauses, trying to figure out how he should put this. He didn't think he'd have to touch up on this now, but it's here and he's struggling. Moreso afraid than anything. He feels a whirlwind of emotions, but he'll focus on the positive because they outweigh everything else. How does he explain that he has always loved you, and doesn't think that has ever changed? Despite his period of stupidity, his lack of self-awareness. "I feel.. warmth? I feel attached. Adoration. Appreciation." He pauses again before looking you in the eyes. "Love."

"Love?" You face him a little more. "You feel love when you see me?"

"I do." He licks his lips before sitting up to feel closer to you. "It's always been that way." Your eyes widen a bit, but he can tell you're starting to shy away from all the things he's been saying. He means it though, he really does. You watch as he raises his hand to gently brush the hair out of your face and tuck it back behind an ear.  His hand falls to your cheek, thumb caressing the surface before he lets out a small sigh. "You taught me all about it."

"I did?" You respond close to a whisper, now watching Minho's eyes drift from yours, down to your nose— to your lips. No other question comes to mind, being that you're drawn into this sudden force of attraction that's pulling you two closer, and closer, together.

And Minho knows; god, he fucking knows this is terrible. But, he's so caught up in this moment, in you. There is the devil on his shoulder, the majority of him that is screaming to keep going. Because he wants to love you so badly, to take this chance and do you right this time around. No distractions, nothing to stop him. He loves you, he has always loved you— despite his stupidity.

Then, there is the angel on the other; a small part of him that is screaming to stop what he's feeling so that he can just be honest and be upfront about the past, give you what you deserve to work off of even though he wants to start 'fresh.' 

You're like a planet, all definitions astronomical. You deserve the world, and then some.

"You did." He says lowly. "Always." He pauses, lips inches away from yours. 

"I hope that never changes." Though, you are his bestfriend before anything, before whatever the past holds, before whatever this history has written you two to be; Minho was also like love to you, and you didn't think there was any other word to describe it.

"I could never look at you differently, Y/N. No matter what." You cup his cheeks and make him meet your eyes once again. It falls silent for a moment, a comfortable silence.

You should've seen it coming.

You can't really remember how quick it happened, or who made the move first, but you do remember feeling fireworks. 

Butterflies. 

A bolt of electricity down your body—

Minho's lips are on yours. For a second, you inch back in surprise. You can see Minho starting to regret his decision and you don't want him to get to that point. 

Because you don't regret that, and you probably won't regret what happens next.

You chase after his lips for another sweet kiss that he gladly takes. He lingers there for awhile before adjusting, allowing him to have more room to kiss you like he's been meaning to, like he's been yearning just as long as you have.

It feels so brand new, yet so familiar at the same time.

So natural.

He tries not to break the kisses for too long, even as he gently lays you back against his pillows and adjusts the covers— hovering over you and keeping his body close to yours. He continues because he feels your need behind your lips, the way you hungrily chase after him to close any distance. Almost like you can't be away for a second, like you'd lose him at the tip of your fingers.

Just like he's felt with you.

You do briefly pull away for a breather, your lips swollen and so majestic to look at while Minho continues to eye the rest of your features. He plants a kiss on your scars before taking his lips down to your neck, gently sucking at the surface before soothing it with his lips again. The need, want, for him continues to build when you feel him against you— every movement tickling your core and making you crave for his touch, for him.

"Y/N." He calls for you in between kisses, moving near your ear as his fingers fiddle with the waistband of your sweats. "Is this okay? Just tell me if you want me to stop and I'll stop."

"Keep going." He meets your gaze as you give him a shy, reassuring nod. He gives you another peck on the lips, hand now tugging your sweats down— tossed off to the side of the bed. At this point, you expect yourself to be nervous. You should feel nervous. But, you don't. Not an ounce of it. And it's probably because of the way Minho delicately touches you, kisses you, holds you.

You let out a small gasp against him when you feel his thumb pressed against your sensitive, clothed nub. He works in slow, circular motions, adding onto the pressure bubbling in your core. Satisfied with your reaction to his touch, he gives your thigh a squeeze before tugging your panties down. Minho's buried at the crook of your neck with your hands tangled at the ends of his hair, fingers now working their way into you at a slow, steady space.

"Minho. Need you." He hears before you let out a tiny whimper, body aching to feel more of him. He presses a kiss to your neck before adjusting to grab a condom at his nightstand. He's made sure he's tested and clean [mainly for his own sake], but tonight this feels different— he feels the need to take care of you, to be gentle, to be delicate. 

To love on you properly. 

This is where the universe has brought you two; this moment in time.

He fiddles with the condom for a bit before he's back to looking at you with the most adoration in his eyes. Soft, but so many feelings screaming to be let out. 

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, and you simply reply with a nod. He lets out a shaky breath, lips grazing against yours just as you feel him slowly enter. There's a slight burn at the contact but nothing unbearable, nothing that settles for too long, until he bottoms out and tries to get used to the feeling. His eyes are locked onto yours as he adjusts to find a steady rhythm, listening to your soft moans and whines just as he's slightly picking up the pace. 

You look so beautiful underneath him.

So right, so perfect.

"You're so pretty. So perfect for me." You hear him mutter against your ear, hands tugging at his hair as you find the courage to move with him and match his movements. He's wrapped up into you just as you with him, so wrapped up that he continues to praise you with sweet nothings; peppering your lips, face, neck with feathery kisses the hold so much behind them. His thumb finds his way back down to your clit, massaging tenderly until he feels you wiggling in his grasp. You feel the heat rising to your cheeks when you feel how quick you'll reach your high, but everything about this feels too good; feels too right.

"Minho— I'm gonna—" You pant out, chest heaving up and down as he's thrusting deeply and hitting all the right spots. You can't even form the rest of your sentence before you feel the immense wave of pleasure crashing over you. Minho watches your response, slipping out of his grasp when he feels your walls squeezing every bit of him. He gives it a good two, three more thrusts before he's unraveling; buried at the crook of your neck as he lets himself go into the condom.

"Are you okay?" He asks and meets your eyes once he's gathered himself. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, I'm okay." You reassure him, and he pecks you on the lips. He disposes of the condom and grabs a few tissues to help clean you up and get you comfortable in his bed. He lays beside you after shutting the tv and lights, arm draped across the pillow as you lay on it and press your back against him. 

It falls into a quiet, comfortable silence again— one where you can listen to each other breathe, one where you can just feel and be in peace together.

Soothing.

"Hey." He says behind you, kissing the back of your head. You turn to face him, eyes slowly feeling heavy. "Are you comfortable?"

"Of course." You sleepily giggle. "I might fall asleep soon."

"Sleep."

"Goodnight?" He chuckles.

"Goodnight, princess." You snuggle against him some more and shut your eyes. It doesn't take long before Minho can tell that you've fallen asleep with the way your lips are slightly parted, breathing now at a soft, resting pace. Minho feels comfortable, feels safe.

Minho feels like love.

He doesn't fall asleep right away. Instead, he watches you sleep in his arms, kissing your forehead once more. He's trying to relish in the moment, but he's also wondering if this was the right way to go. Maybe he got wrapped up too into this and he should've waited. 

Things happened so fast.

He needed to tell you. 

You two have so much to talk about.

What does matter in this moment, is that he has always loved you and that has never changed. Despite his moment of stupidity, his lack of self-awareness.

Love.

"I love you." He whispers down to you before he finally feels like he can shut his eyes and try to get some sleep.

You, like a planet, all definitions astronomical; heavenly.

You, are love.

♡ taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk @hoes4lino @skzddicted @skzho @edgaralienpoe @harui-zen @bestleeknowstan @havenwithleeknow @septicrebel @heesdazed @borahae-reads @yoontaethings @pearbunny @bintific @lukeys-giggle @ajxreads @everglowdaisies @allaboutsan @endzii23 @leeknowsramen @heres-your-ramen2000 @morningstardada @mal-lunar-28 @downbadreading @lilysophie @feelikecinderella @urmomma0324 @ddazed-lhs @djeniryuu @melanctton @i8rsie @maru-matt @sleepyleeji @taerifin @nattisbored @jisunglyricist @m111nho @drhsthl @nixtape-foryou @arminseas @guiltycoco @syuuji @sulkygyu @cadihyo @reianagarcia @leeknowyah @smndjdufuehr @dprkbyn @xxibreinaxx @mxnsxngie @reiheis @mellowmentalitydragon

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[palmtreesx3]

Prologue

SexShop!Steve x Reader : SexShop!Robin x OC

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Steve and Robin have about had it with Hawkins, so on Robin's 25th birthday, the pair decides that there's nothing holding them there anymore and they start packing their bags. The friends move to Chicago and quickly find an apartment to call their own. As luck would have it, Robin stumbles on a no-strings-attached job offer for both of them - what could be better?! Now just to break the news to Steve…. This multi part story will both explore their platonic relationship and their chaotic experience working at the sex shop together as well as their own paths of self discovery as they plant their roots in their new city and finally deal with the invisible baggage they drug along with them when they moved. 

Warnings: no warnings...this time. Some non cannon relationships in this AU but cannon themes and Easter eggs a-plenty.

Chicago: Summer of 1993

It's only his 5th trip up and down the steps in the last hour, and Steve has about had it. Being left to haul a car full of Robin's personal belongings and boxes up the three flights of spiraling staircases to their brand new apartment building while she goes off in search of dinner and some help wanted signs seemed like a good idea at the time. It wasn't until he opened the hatch and saw how MUCH she actually packed did he immediately regret his choice to stay behind. He stood there regretting his current situation in an unfamiliar, bustling and loud city while sweat beaded on his hairline and flush spread across his cheeks in the humid June air.

Muttering to himself as he passes a redheaded teen girl carrying a skateboard who refuses to get out of his way on the staircase, he finally pushes his way through their doorway and he's thankful to feel the window unit he threw in first thing after they arrived starting to rev up and cool down the space. Steve repositions the particularly heavy box full of Robin's things on his hip while he reaches over for his cup of iced water setting on the counter and pooling condensation. Desperate for the reprieve, Steve gulps down an extra large sip and attempts to swallow but all sense of relief washes away as something slams into his whole left side. The glass he is holding ricochets down to the ground while Robin's box of nostalgic memorabilia topples over and spills out too. Hawkins High all over the floor. 

 "Jesus Christ, Robbie, what the hell!?" 

Bending over to start collecting all of Robin's teenage memories, the last threads holding her down to a town that didn't love her as much as she loved it - Steve doesn't hear anything she says when she first lifts her fists over her head and into the air in celebration - barely registering that she body checked the boy as she threw open the door. 

"Rob. Robbie, what the fuck are you saying? You're doing the thing… " he waves his hand in her general direction. 

"Oh fuck, sorry." Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath to regroup, realizing now that she came in making a whole lot of noise and saying not a damn thing at all.

She takes a deep breath and with a gleam behind her eye proclaims "I landed us a job, Dingus!" Both fists jolting upwards into the air again, he now sees the job applications crumpled up in her fists and yielded like torches. 

"Dude, gimmie that." Steve says. "You're gonna ruin it before I can even fill it out. We can't start a new job being that unprofessional. Christ… . What are we doing anyway? Gotta be better than that restaurant gig we both bombed before we left Indiana."

"Ok so, yeah, yeah this has the potential to be better than that. Definitely better than Family Video. For sure. And there's no stupid costume like Scoops. God. That sucked. We should pretty much know how to do a lot of it already and the manager seems like he's kinda chill. I told him I don't really know much about the ... uh...topic…but uh…that I'm a fast learner and he said we start on Monday and to bring the paperwork with us." She rambles, motioning to the pages Steve now holds in his hand. 

"O-oh kay Robin. Details please. You know them in your head but I don't yet. You-you gotta share." 

"Ha! Yeah! Sorry about that, I mean…." while she trails off and starts to fidget, Steve immediately knows there's more to the story.

"Robbie. What are you not telling me? " 

"It's called The Hideout. It's on Clark St, just a few streets over. 20 minutes walking - tops."

"20 minutes is doable." he says, and then quips back "Man, don't tell me it's a restaurant. I really didn't want to eat shit at that job all over again. I guess I'll take what I can get so we can at least get on our feet… "

" It'snotarestaurantit'sasexshop!" Robin blurts out in one rushed garble of words. 

"I'm sorry, WHAT did you say?" Steve stands with his hands on his hips, looking at her incredulously. "Did you say SEX SHOP?" 

Steve is freaking out. He's immediately embarrassed for something he hasn't even done yet. He can feel the tips of his ears going hot and shades of red staining his face and neck in splotches. Are those hives? She's giving me hives, he thinks to himself.

"What am I supposed to tell people when they ask what I do?! What are we supposed to tell the kids back home when they start to call non-stop? What am I supposed to say to my DAD, Robin?" He can feel her mere existance giving him heart palpitations while she looks on at him sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders. All he can do is focus on his breathing so he doesn't blow a gasket on his friend. 

Among the myriad of other things this move has going for the pair, Robin sees moving to Chicago as her opportunity to live who she is out loud and finally be free of the confines a small town puts on someone who looks a little different, thinks a little different and loves a little different. Steve, just happy for the fresh start and the chance to maybe do things for himself for once, was not really thinking this is how it would all start out, but looking at the excitement on Robin’s face made him soften just a little. 

Now pacing back and forth across the entryway to dispel her nervous energy, she looks on at her exasperated friend and he gives her an almost indistinguishable nod of the head in agreement. She smiles softly at him and says, "Anyway, I distinctly remember you once encouraging me to talk about boobies with you, Steve. Lighten up and get ready for tits, dicks…all of it! I'm ready and this city is my sexual awakening!" 

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @livsters

#joe keery #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve and robin get a job #steve and robin 4l #robin buckley #robin Buckley x oc #sexshop!robin #sexshop!steve #summer in the city #get off!steve #get off!robin #platonic soulmates stobin #platonic stobin #stobin fanfic #steve and robin fanfic #steve Harrington x you