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#also helps they actually stayed together at the end of the show
meanbossart · 10 hours
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Love Drow's camp greetings, but now I've got to know-- what would his romance path look like?
(This was a REALLY FUN thought experiment, thanks for asking about it!)
You'd get approval points by: -Picking the joke dialogue options, especially if they're dark or crass. -Succeeding intimidation checks. -Starting fights no-questions-asked with characters that don't immediately show you respect. -Defying authority. -Antagonizing drows, githyanki, mindflayers and goblins. -Being friendly towards animals. -Showing willingness to do what the dream visitor suggests. -Notable boost if you let him take on the Loviatar priest in your stead.
You get disapproval by: -Disclosing to people that you're infected with the tadpole. -Agreeing to help NPCs who aren't offering to get rid of your parasites. -Some deception checks (he doesn't always realize you're lying). -Being distrustful/pushy with Shadowheart. -Siding with the absolute. -Trusting or empathizing with the Emperor at all after he reveals himself (Yes, he will leave you if you bang the squid). -Massive point loss if you don't let him take on Orin on his own.
[More elaboration underneath the cut, CW for terrible relationship dynamics and implications of sexual coercion, especially within the context of BDSM.]
He can be persuaded to allow you to have a one-night-stand with Halsin, but will not agree to a three-way relationship or long-term arrangement.
He will stay with you if you sleep with Mizora without the need to roll for anything, but you will lose a lot of approval.
He will agree to a four-way with the twins at Sharess Caress if you ask him about it, but only after you complete his quest. If he has lost to Orin he will kill the twins during the act. If he has accepted Bhaal, he will ask if you want to kill them with him, but you can refuse/dissuade him from doing so.
In regards to his personal interactions, you would usually get choices between antagonizing him, expressing fear, not taking him seriously at all, or making flirtatious advances.
He's neutral/disapproving towards flirtation prior to triggering a romance (though he still reacts flattered). He's neutral/approving of not being taken seriously and/or being feared, as long as the PC is being somewhat facetious and not expressing outright distrust or doubt toward his capabilities. Basically, as long as what you're saying implies that he's formidable, or makes him laugh, he will like it.
After the romance is initiated, he will enjoy flirtatious dialogue options that put him in the role of the desired, compliment his looks/abilities, or express general affection. You would also get options that paint him in a kind of "sexually predatory" light - he doesn't like those.
You could encourage him to embrace his Urge at the start of the campaign for approval, then he flips to wanting you to discourage it after it grows outside his control. If he accepts Bhaal, this switches it back to where he approves of it being encouraged. If he loses to Orin, he will just agree with you whether you tell him to give into his Urges or keep fighting them.
You can break up with him at any point unless he has accepted Bhaal; In that case, he won't agree to it and say that when he takes over the brain you won't have a choice on the matter. The only way to keep him from betraying you during the ending is to either kill him or staying in the relationship with him and dominating the brain together.
As for the actual romance scenes, it'd be similar to Astarion's route where you get to sleep with him right away, then the following interactions are more focused on other forms of intimacy and developing the emotional side of the relationship. You would get the option to push for more sex every time, which he would turn down out of fear of what the Urge might do if he goes along with it - if you keep pushing even after that, it gets you disapproval.
During the scene that locks the romance path (prior to arriving at Baldur's gate) you can persuade him to have sex, and if you succeed he will lose control and try to murder you during the act. The only way to survive it is to kill him instead. You can be resurrected if you lose (he cannot) but he then breaks up with you.
The "themes" of his romance are supposed to allude to the different dynamics of a maso-sado/dom-sub relationship. If you push him to pursue Bhaal you are setting yourself up for a 24/7, lifelong arrangement. the relationship is reduced entirely to your sexual desire for each other, the pushing of boundaries with no limits, and constant one-upmanship. You are no longer allowed (and outwardly mocked) for displaying any tenderness that isn't sexually charged, and he will become angry with you if during your night together following the finalization of the quest you don't pick the aggressive/violent options during intimacy.
If he loses to Orin, he becomes entirely emotionally dependent on the player character, willing to bend to your every will and latch onto the PC as his new master whether or not they agree to it. He is terrified of his fate and desperately wants to please you so you don't abandon him before he loses himself. You can either take advantage of this and revel in the power you have over him, become frustrated, or demonstrate patience and try to encourage him to hold onto some individuality. You can also just kill him, which he will allow you to do through dialogue options at any point. During the romance scene that follows this path, you can only have sex if you restrain him completely first.
If he refuses Bhaal, you get yourself a quiet, cocky, but loving weirdo who enjoys play-dynamics a healthy amount but is ultimately in it because he likes you as a person. He's willing to compromise on the maso-thing as long as you don't put him down for it, and it is implied that while things may not be perfect, you are both willing to work on it through mutual understanding and patience because the relationship is based on more than just burning desire or co-dependency.
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rubra-wav · 20 hours
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Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Pentious, Alastor, and Lucifer x a concerningly unstable, younger reader
@pandaquick
A/N : reader is still written to be 18ish
I took creative liberties with this, so I'm sorry if I've taken that a bit in the wrong direction w this one!
The song 'Mama's Boy' came on while I was deciding where I'll take this one and kinda made me start feeling some type of way/lh
You didn't really specify what type of unstable they are, so I went with depression type presentations for that
Cw: SFW, very slight references to past self-destructive behaviour, gn!reader, platonic, hurt/comfort, found family-ish (in all these except for Alastor's)
Charlie
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- When you show up at the hotel, she's absolutely elated to have a new resident! Especially one who's new to hell and thus hasn't built up sky-high walls to everyone due to the harsh climate.
- When you disclose why you ended up here, she's utterly horrified.
- The idea someone could be condemned to this place which reeks of burning flesh at all times for something so stupid is truly exasperating.
- She almost has doubt creep into her mind about her dream when she hears the truth about your being in hell, but quickly flips it into positivity as it means you're easy to redeem.
- As you become closer and start opening up after feeling more comfortable, Charlie quickly becomes very concerned for your well-being.
- Sweeps you into her arms while trying (and failing) to not cry as she hears about the kinds of horrible thoughts going on often for you.
- From then on, if she ever notices you becoming withdrawn or particularly sensitive/unstable she will try to convince you to talk it out with her.
- If that's not something you're into? She just tries to distract you and sweep you along with her as she discusses possible activities for the hotel and other random stuff.
- At some point she starts becoming a caretaker to you emotionally and doesn't really even notice herself start to step into essentially becoming motherly towards you.
- She's just really afraid for you at times and wants to take care of you!
- You're also a fair bit younger than the people around you (including her), so even with you being an adult technically yourself she still slips into that kind of attitude.
Vaggie
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- When you show up she can tell something is up under everything pretty quickly.
- She's dealt with a fair lot of mental anguish over the years so she can see the cracks in your mental state even before you feel comfortable openly discussing it.
- Will not approach it with you, but will do indirect things for you to try help you practically like making extra food for you as she cooks or reminding you to drink water if those are things you seem to struggling.
- Vaggie isn't the emotionally supportive type, so when she tries to be it seems awkward. She is genuine about it, though.
- Openly face palms when she hears that you got sent here for something so little. 'Classic heaven.' She'd grumble under her breath before apologising for you being sent to hell for something so stupid. (Confusing you and making her start sweating a bit because she's meant to be a demon not an angel-)
- As you start opening up more and more, she becomes even more practical in helping you out upon actually knowing what exactly you need.
- Feels incredibly concerned upon hearing the true extent to your instability and probably has some angst over not being emotionally warm as she would like to be.
- You two bond over mutual terrible experiences, and she essentially becomes a mentor-like figure to you.
- This turns more personal, though, as Charlie starts mothering you.
- Eventually you're essentially adopted by Vaggie and Charlie - they both work together to try to help you manage stuff and stay stable.
Angel
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- Initially he'd be neutral to you most likely, just making the same sarcastic comments (albeit not suggestive. Even he has limits from what he's comfortable doing with his persona)
- When he hears how you got here, he just squints at you with a humourless laugh.
- The idea of someone being mostly non-sinful outside of ONE tiny, idiotic reason ending up in this shithole around people who are horrid abusers, to murderers, to every horrible thing possible is fucked.
- After discovering this, he'd be slightly inclined to be protective of you. Only slightly though initially. He can hardly support himself with his own baggage.
- This changes, though, after he learns of your history of self destruction and overall fragility as a demon.
- It's hard for him. He sees so much of himself in you - especially after just getting to hell.
- Despite his more logical thoughts of not trying to care for you, he does genuinely become extremely protective.
- You're the exact type of person who would be taken advantage of here, and he just wouldn't be able to sleep at night if he didn't even try to divert that from happening.
- He's not really the emotional support type, but he'd try to take your mind off of things with other activities. (Watch this man stumble trying to figure out age-appropriate activities for someone he sees as a kid in comparison to himself even if you're technically a legal adult.)
- In the streets, you have him armed to the teeth next to you at most times. It's funny to think about Angel trying to be scary dog privilege, but he actually is when he wants to be.
- Doesn't mother you or act as a guidance figure to you - god knows he is no good example - but he is gonna take out everyone in this bitch if anything happens to you.
Husk
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- The second he meets you, he can see what's going on under everything, but he doesn't approach it at all.
- He's been a bartender collecting sob stories for years. He knows how to spot someone who is cracking under the surface or itching to tell their story or problems.
- He almost feels a prickle of empathy for your situation. Someone so young falling into hell of all places, clearly troubled, is a terrible situation. It's squashed the second he realises that you surely are sinful enough to have ended up here.
- As you reveal that your 'sin' was actually tiny however he curses as he actually now feels bad for you. I mean, come on, you're barely an adult, and you’ve been condemned for your whole afterlife for something so utterly small? He's losing the no heart impression he puts out.
- It scares him a bit honestly, so he avoids you like the plague. He'd rather ignore the pain someone like you being here brings him.
- Unfortunately, that doesn't work out as you come to him after a long day and break down at the counter of his bar. As he offers you an ear, he truly is annoyed at himself.
- Because oh god, he cannot take care of you, but he wants to help you.
- He tries to keep you at arms length as he eventually gives in to his want to try and help you out. Key word: tries.
- He's very rough around the edges in his approach, but he essentially steps in like a kind of really done, grumpy uncle who's always fretting over your wellbeing.
- He hates that he actually gives a shit but he would be incredibly restless if he didn't try to help or make sure you're okay.
- Ironically, he'd be telling you not to drink your problems away. Would be awkwardly giving examples of other coping mechanisms he'd learnt from Charlie's speeches about addiction.
- He's a hypocrite, but he doesn't care. It makes his bitter heart heavy to think of you getting into the vices he uses to cope.
- Also another one who is incredibly protective. Treats you like you're made of glass honestly.
Pentious
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- He finds you strange mostly and is probably the most obviously curious out of everyone here about you and how you came to be here.
- Is asking the most questions even if they are tone deaf as it gets. How did you end up here? How did you die? Why are you moderately normal as compared to the other residents? (A comment which gets him a giant 'fuck you' and 'have you looked at yourself?' From everyone else around)
- He prods you into divulging information and is immediately protective of you from the second he learns that not only are you not really a sinner at all, but you are also quite fragile mentally.
- Someone like you should not be allowed to be tainted by hell's climate. He hides it behind him 'looking out for princess Charlie's dream', but he is truly afraid for you, and it's embarrassing to him.
- Is constantly all up in your business and trying to make sure you are well and okay.
- He's so paranoid that you're not alright that checking in on you almost becomes a compulsion for him. You've gotta end up reassuring him that you're just fine and that he doesn't need to be so worried.
- Absolutely a practical caretaker but is also big on physical touch as comfort.
- If you're ever crying or not feeling good, he will get you stuff and then he just straight up wraps his tail around you and pats your hair while telling you it's going to be okay.
- If you're ever out and he's with you, his immediate instinct is to try throw hands with anyone who looks at you mildly wrong. Due to not having his weapons anymore, he gets his ass beat doing this.
- When he's unable to be around you, he's going to have his eggs with you to help you out if you need anything.
- Really does turn into a worried mother over being like a father more than anything.
Alastor
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- Unlike the others, he would see you solely as an opportunity.
- There's no cute found-family part here. He will use you.
- It would be so easy to convince you to enter into a deal with him as someone vulnerable and inexperienced with hell. He can see how fragile you are under the surface the second you get to the hotel more then just about everyone there.
- Everyone else would be pulling you away from him because it's so obvious you are nothing but easy pickings for him that it's not even funny.
- Would be very genuinely interested in how someone like you ended up in hell though.
- He got here by murdering and exploiting people in every way possible for his own entertainment. How could someone so seemingly innocent get here?
- Openly laughs when he hears your story of sin. He truly pities you getting sent down into hell with people him.
- You avoid him because you can see his intentions on your own, just as much as the people around you are telling you to stay away.
- He, of course, doesn't let that happen. He just likes to show up and watch you fumble through hell like you're prime entertainment.
- He may sometimes help you, but it's only because he just thinks the sight of you struggling is that pathetic to him.
- It may slowly become more of a fondness for you and your company, but the underlying reason for his kind behaviours to you is nothing good.
- He just wants to own you like an item, see how long it takes for someone so pure as a demon to break, and become just as bad as the rest of them.
Lucifer
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- Unlike everyone else who are concerned for you, he sees you and instantly slips into dadTM mode with you, and this only deepens the more he learns about you.
- You almost remind him of how he is with how different you are from all of the other demons, and he feels genuine guilt that someone like you has ended up here.
- If he had never done what he did, you would be up in heaven and not condemned to this hell-hole. He doesn't think you should be down here at all for such a tiny mistake you made in your life.
- When he realises you are also really unstable and vulnerable he's going to be terrified for you.
- Especially with someone like Alastor looming over you at all times.
- He was already getting his shit back together when he began to mend things with Charlie, but he straightens up even more when he meets you and starts growing attached quickly.
- He's initially a bit distant despite his want to try care for you because he's already mending things with Charlie, but Charlie actually encourages him to reach out to you.
- She's essentially your unofficial mum in the hotel, but she's far from perfect at that, so she would like it if he would help however he could.
- Very emotionally supportive with you after he gets to be openly caretaking to you.
- He's still a bit awkward as he's essentially there getting his shit together alongside trying to help you out, but he tries to help wherever he can.
- Will absolutely love it if Charlie, Vaggie, you and him could do activities together for fun.
- He's also scary dog privilege 100%. His worry for you would likely come off as him seeming like he's going to absolutely drop demons and scare the living shit out of them.
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Masterlist
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kingdomoftyto · 1 month
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"Carlos, if you could just pause your experiment for a second--if you could only hear me out, hear my hypothesis! I think once you understand the science of the situation, you--" Carlos opened the door. He was crying. She had never seen him cry. He was overwhelmed and unsure of how to express his emotions, since he usually only did so in carefully worded sentences, not with water from his body. "The science of the situation?" he snarled. "That Otherworld. I was trapped there, Nilanjana. I couldn't see Cecil for ten lonely years. I was kept away from the people I love, in that desolate place where you never get hungry and you never have to drink water and so you never live. It is a place that devours. It is a place that is empty. That is the science of the situation, and I study it so I can fix it. Only I can do that. Only these experiments can do that. I'm sorry, Nilanjana; I'm not going to stop so you can tell me what science is."
🫠
#Tyto listens to WtNV#spoiler warning I guess for a book that came out a few years ago now#anyway yeah hi I finished the book#the resolutions to the plot and to Nils' character arc were pretty good. nothing to write home about but fun and serviceable#I personally get annoyed whenever a story pulls a ''you thought this romance would end with these two TOGETHER? lol NOPE''#like we get it it's more realistic for whirlwind romances to end in a breakup and sometimes it's better for people to just stay friends#but firstly this isn't real life; it's fiction. with narrative devices and such.#and secondly WtNV of all media does NOT get to preach about realistic relationship trajectories when its lead fell in love at first sight#lmao I'm just saying. I'm not MAD about it or anything it just made me roll my eyes.#ANYWAY. that aside: it was good. and I do genuinely like the friendship Nilanjana builds up with Darrell at the end#but obviously the real star of the show was Carlos and the completely unprecedented character depth that they smothered him in.#not ONLY recontextualizing over a year's worth of the podcast but ALSO saddling him with LAYERS of guilt over the events in this book#he *KILLED* the *GODDAMN* *CENTIPEDE*#after his beautiful little speech about not killing things just because we don't understand them!#he was just SO traumatized by his time in the Otherworld and SO afraid for his family after Janice nearly got Got that he KILLED IT!!!#and THEN!!!! not only do they find out that the centipede wasn't responsible for the destruction!!#but it turns out it was HIS OWN MACHINE THE WHOLE TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#his attempts to keep everyone safe were what actually caused the danger!!!! AUGH HE WAS ONLY TRYING TO HELP#HE'S JUST SCARED AND HE WANTS EVERYONE TO BE SAFE AND NOT EXPERIENCE THE SAME HORRORS HE DID AUGHDUSHGHDH#...anyway yeah back to my regularly scheduled episode listening tomorrow
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wonusite · 6 months
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Cat and Mouse
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❝ Wonwoo doesn’t understand why you’re so adamant in avoiding him after the amazing night you two spent together, but he’s not going to let you get away from him so easily. ❞
PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x female reader
GENRE: bad boy au, smut
WORD COUNT: 5.6k
WARNINGS: bad boy!wonwoo, allusions of illicit activities, descriptions of minor injuries, wonwoo is down HORRENDOUS, reader is in denial about her feelings, our bad boi is soft for one (1) person, mutual pining, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, riding, multiple creampies, overstimulation, mating press, aftercare
ㅤ→ continuation of this timestamp
A/N: here’s a little something to celebrate one year with this blog. very grateful to all my followers and mutuals who’ve made this past year amazing! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
Wonwoo glares at his phone, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek in annoyance.
It’s been a week. An entire fucking week without hearing from you. He knew he should’ve ignored Jihoon’s calls and stayed in bed with you that night, but when he sent a message saying the entire crew needed to be there, he couldn’t ignore it. Now, he really wishes he would have.
The night he spent with you was the most incredible of his life, and now he might never relive it because he left in a haste, only leaving you with a brief kiss and a promise to come back.
“You still torn up over that sweet lil’ thing from that flower shop?” Seungcheol's voice has never sounded more irritating than it does now.
“That’s Shua’s girl, dumbass.”
Being on the receiving end of that mean tone and angry glare doesn’t faze Seungcheol in the slightest. In fact, it only causes his infamous smirk to get wider. To see the stoic Jeon Wonwoo acting up over a girl is not only a rarity, but it’s also really fucking funny. That’s why he can’t resist pushing Wonwoo’s buttons further.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Seungcheol cackles. “Guess you better hurry up and help us finish this shit. Her shift ends soon.”
Wonwoo can feel his irritation near that boiling point he could usually avoid. Of course Seungcheol knows about your schedule. That asshole has the annoying habit of knowing everything about anyone who is even the tiniest bit associated with the crew. Sure, it’s for precautionary reasons, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Nonetheless, Wonwoo focuses on the task at hand so he can catch you before you leave work.
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Jeon Wonwoo is the bane of your existence.
From the moment he first came around with that stupidly attractive smirk of his, your life was never the same. And now that you fucked him, it never will be again.
Giving into your carnal desires isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but getting mixed up with the likes of Jeon Wonwoo definitely is. Despite not knowing all of the grimy details, you know he’s bad news. You can see all the red flags clearly—the people he hangs around, all the fights he gets in, and the tattoos littering his body. And yet, none of those warning signs mattered now or when Wonwoo was ravishing you in a way that still made your toes curl just by thinking about it.
Maybe the worst part of it all is that you can’t get the resident bad boy out of your head, or the way he held you after you two had sex. It’s like you can still feel how he nuzzled into your neck, strong arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let you go. Part of you hopes that he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t had some urgent business to take care of. It’s a dangerous thought, but even so you can’t help but crave that uncharacteristically sweet side of him that he presumably only showed you.
A displeased sigh comes out of you as you gather your things to go home. It’s bad enough that you can’t stop thinking about Wonwoo, but to think that you’re actually pining over him even though he literally disappeared after your night together is—
“Y/N left already.”
It’s Mingyu’s voice you hear at first, and it makes you stop in your tracks. You wonder who could be asking for you until you hear someone answer him. It feels like your heart is going to jump out of your chest when you hear a familiar deep voice that has your stupid pussy clenching in anticipation.
“Alright. Thanks.”
You peek out from the back when you hear the door chime. It’s annoying that your chest tightens when you see a set of wide shoulders draped in a leather jacket walking toward the large motorcycle parked outside. The way your mind goes blank yet is also clogged with nothing but thought of Wonwoo is infuriating. You don’t realize you’re pouting at the exit until Mingyu jumps back in shock at seeing your sulking figure.
“Y/N what– I thought you left!” He says, vaguely gesturing behind him. “You just missed your boyfriend! I think he wanted to take you home—”
“Boyfriend?” You interrupt him, not entirely angry or disgusted that your coworker had referred to Wonwoo as such.
Mingyu furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah? The scary dude with the leather jacket that comes in here all the time just to see you. He’s your boyfriend, right?”
It’s almost mortifying that your sweet but oblivious coworker can tell that there was something going on between you and the resident bad boy. And yet, there’s also a part of you that likes the fact that Wonwoo is so obvious about his feelings. You don’t know what to make of these conflicting emotions that you can’t seem to shake, and seeing Wonwoo (even just the back of him) didn’t help you find the clarity you so desperately need.
“Well, even if he’s not, he definitely wants to fuck you.” Mingyu says with a wink as he brushes past you to check on the pastries he had put in the oven ten minutes ago.
You wonder how he would react if you told him that Wonwoo already has.
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Wonwoo thinks you’re the cutest person ever. And the part of you he finds the most cute? The fact that you actually think he’s going to let you avoid him forever. You’re good at it, he’ll give you that (even if he can see right through your every method).
It’s funny that you actually change your off days and regular working hours just to avoid seeing him and throw him off, which it does—at first. He knows you haven’t quit because Josh mentioned seeing you at the bakery when he went to buy the love of his life a cake for her birthday. This is confirmed when he goes to see for himself the next day.
Maybe you don’t realize Wonwoo can see you run to the back through the large glass windows when you hear his motorcycle, but either way he thinks it’s funny. Actually, it’s hilarious because soon enough you were going to give into him like before.
Meanwhile, you feel like a mouse being preyed on by a sly cat—one that’s toying with you before he finally catches you. Avoiding Wonwoo had been easy at first, but now you’re starting to wonder if he had let it seem easy.
“Babydoll.”
You almost drop a tray of croissants when you hear a familiar deep voice calling for you. The way you whip around with a gaping mouth must be hilarious because Wonwoo just smirks at you in that infuriating way that drives you crazy. Your hands tighten around the tray as you snap your mouth closed, trying to contemplate on how to navigate the situation.
With a bit of a mental pep talk, you finally manage to put up that happy to help attitude you usually had with every other customer. The smile you give him feels exaggerated and fake, but it’s the only way you can mask all the emotions you’re feeling.
“What can I get for you?”
That devilish smirk widens as Wonwoo pretends to skim all the delicious pastries in the case before he sets his smoldering eyes back on you. “This all looks good,” he muses quietly, but you can hear him perfectly since it’s only you two. “But I think you’re the only thing that can satisfy my hunger.”
It kills you that his words make you heat up from the inside out. You ignore him and start to put the croissants into the case. The clench of your jaw is tight and bordering on painful, but it’s the only way you can keep your emotions from spilling over for him to see.
Unfortunately, your lack of response doesn’t really faze him. One thing you’ve come to learn about Wonwoo is that he’s never uncomfortable in the silence. You wish you could say the same. You’re nearly squirming by the time you’re done placing the croissants in their designated space because he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you once.
Finally, you look up to meet Wonwoo’s gaze. It’s so intense that you almost want to look away. However, there’s a part of you that loves being under the heat of his stare since you can clearly see the desire he has for you.
“You’ve been ignoring me.”
“You’ve been gone.” You counter, vaguely aware that you sound like a sulking girlfriend.
Wonwoo realizes this too because he gently coos at you. “Missed me, babydoll?”
Yes. “You wish.”
It’s obvious Wonwoo doesn’t believe you. That stupid smirk of his only seems to get bigger with every passing moment, and you don’t know if you want to kiss it or smack it off his face.
“I missed you.” He tells you honestly, loving how you’re visibly growing flustered with his words.
Resisting him would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so tempting to you and if the feelings he always evoked from you weren’t so strong. Before you can say anything to betray your easily crumbling facade, Mingyu comes out from the back with a tray of small cakes. Wonwoo gives you a once over before stepping away from the case.
“I’ll be back after your shift. Wait for me.”
You don’t wait for him—technically. It’s not waiting since Wonwoo is already outside of the bakery when your shift ends. He’s clad in his leather jacket, dark jeans, and signature combat boots. It’s not fair that he can lean against his bike so casually while looking as good as ever.
Ignoring him would’ve been all too easy, but you can’t when you notice the bruises and cuts on his pretty face. A familiar irritation bubbles in your chest, but annoyingly enough, it’s overpowered by the concern you feel. You react before you can fully think your actions through.
“What the hell!”
Wonwoo’s eyes widen the tiniest bit when you stomp over to him with angry tears in your eyes. You can’t even enjoy his cute shocked face because of the overwhelming concern and anger you feel. All you can do is hit his brawny chest in frustration.
“You—You asshole!” Your voice cracks with raw emotion as you continue to weakly hit his chest. “You said– you promised that you weren’t going to fight anymore—!”
Wonwoo lets you hit him. His chest aches, but not because of your soft blows. The last thing he meant to do was make you cry, and it’s something he wishes to never see again. His large hands come up to cup your face, fingers delicately wiping your tears. “I know I should’ve kept my promise, and I’m sorry. Just please don’t cry anymore.”
You let out a quiet whimper at his tenderness. His eyes are full of so much remorse and concern that it makes any remaining willpower you have left disappear. It feels right to bury yourself in his chest and let yourself be held by him. He caresses your back, and you can’t hate that it actually makes you feel better.
Once you’ve calmed down, you pull back and smack Wonwoo’s beefy chest again. “Asshole.”
“Your asshole.” His haze is tender as he cradles your tearstained cheek in his hand.
You scowl at him, but it’s quickly wiped off your face when he places a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth. A sudden desire consumes you when you see Wonwoo’s affectionate gaze. This time you let yourself be driven by your desire and press your lips against his.
It’s easy for him to melt into the kiss. Wonwoo sighs into your mouth as one of his hands comes up to cup your face. His rings feel cool against your warm skin, and you let out a quiet moan when his other hand slips into the back pocket of your jeans and squeezes your ass while pulling you closer to him.
The kiss is slow at first until your hands smooth over Wonwoo’s chest and fist his shirt to pull him closer. You part your lips to allow his tongue to slip into your mouth. It feels like you got struck by a bolt of electricity the longer his lips are on yours. His desire and hunger are evident in his needy movement, and you absolutely love it.
When you two finally pull away, you’re left breathless. Wonwoo’s thumb gently caresses your cheek as his heart pounds harshly in his chest. “Stay the night with me, babydoll.”
“M’kay.” You breathe out, mind still swimming.
The smile he gives you is so pretty that it makes something inside you burn with ardent desire. You feel like you’re floating on air when Wonwoo hands you a spare helmet that happens to be your favorite color. He looks bashful as he waits for you to accept it, and you wish you could take a picture of his pretty blush.
In spite of all the reasons you have not to take the helmet from him, you still do. And you don’t regret it.
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You’ve never allowed yourself to regret the things that you’ve done because life is too short for regrets. But you definitely regret avoiding Wonwoo as long as you have, especially with the way he’s trailing his lips along your legs. Every wet kiss he leaves behind has your heart hammering and your cunt clenching in want.
Finally, Wonwoo gets to your inner thighs. His large hands spread you open with ease, eyes dark when he sees your wet pussy.
“Fuck.” His gaze fixed between your legs as if he's in a trance. “You’re already so wet.”
Your toes curl when his breath ghosts over your cunt. It sends delicious shivers throughout your body, and you have to stop yourself from bucking your hips into his face. But as you’re starting to learn, it seems like Wonwoo knows what you want before you even ask for it.
“You want my mouth, babydoll?”
Wonwoo nearly blows his load when you nod cutely, a needy mewl escaping your lips. “Please.”
He hooks your legs over his wide shoulders, thumbs spreading your folds open for his viewing pleasure. Wonwoo resists his ravenous desire for you long enough to toy with your pretty pussy before he actually tastes it—a luxury he hadn’t gotten to do last time. His rough hands are soon occupied with you, one hand pinching and flicking your sensitive clit while the other gently rubs your slippery folds.
“Fuck, baby.” You whine, biting down on your lower lip. “Feels so good.”
Your cunt is dripping with so much of your arousal that Wonwoo’s fingers are drenched as he slowly rubs circles against your aching bud. It’s throbbing and pulsing in need as his pace grows the tiniest bit quicker. You can’t even try to contain your moans as you stare down at your boyfriend.
Wonwoo has a huge smirk on his pink lips. You’re making such a mess on his fingers, and he just loves it. “You look so fucking cute when your squirm like this, babydoll.”
A needy whimper tumbles past your lips when he presses a gentle kiss to your throbbing clit. It pulses under the attention like it wants his mouth again. Wonwoo’s pupils are blown wide as he licks the remnants of your arousal off his lips. The addicting taste makes his control snap, and in the next second he smashes his face into your cunt like a starved man.
Your hips start move on their own as Wonwoo groans deeply into your drooling pussy. His mouth latches onto your clit, massaging the nub with his tongue. The movements are skilled and toe-curling, and you already feel like you’re fucked out.
“Wonwoo!” You cry out in absolute pleasure when he slips two fingers inside you.
His long fingers work your cunt open, curling up to rub the sensitive spot inside you that made you arch your back in ecstasy. Your mouth is dropped open in a silent min the longer Wonwoo fucks you with his tongue. He captures your juices with his tongue only to slobber them all over you again. Your hands grab ahold of his hair as he keeps moaning into your wet pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine with every one of his movements.
All it takes his his nose bumping against your clit as he licks around his pumping digits for you to come all over his face. Wonwoo groans into your creamy cunt, licking up every drop of your release.
“So fucking messy.” He grunts as his hand spreads your folds and exposes your heat to the cool air. His fingers trail down your cunt, tenderly rubbing along your sensitive lips. “Fuck, just look at that cream."
You can’t contain your needy moan when Wonwoo brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. He’s so fucking hot that you just want him to fuck you until you can’t think. Before you can get him to do exactly that, a heavy weight settles on your soppy cunt. His cock is hot and wet as it slides between your folds.
“You feel so good, angel.” Wonwoo groans as he thrusts forward, coating the underside of his dick with your arousal. “So fucking wet, just for me.”
The mouthwatering sight of your folds splitting open as he slides his cock between them makes him feel like he’s drunk. Maybe he is. Drunk on your pussy, that is. He only gets to enjoy the feeling for a second before you eagerly buck your hips against his.
“Let me ride you.”
It’s a miracle that Wonwoo doesn’t come all over your stomach at the words you moaned so desperately. He’s quick to get into position, leaning against his headboard as you hover above him. You look so eager as you straddle his lap, the love bites he littered all over your thighs giving him a sense of pride as he brushes his thumbs over them.
Wonwoo’s free hand reaches for your ass. He roughly kneads the skin before slapping it. You moan out in pleasure. Everything is almost too much for you to handle. The sight of him bellow you waiting patiently for you to fuck him like the first time is making your core throb with insatiable desire. His cock rests on his stomach, leaking with precum and waiting for you to sit on it.
The hottest part of it all is how Wonwoo’s looking at you with unadulterated desire and affection—like you’re a living goddess on top of him. Your hands are splayed over his muscular chest, and he just loves the feeling of them smoothing over his hot skin.
His hands move on their own, caressing your hips and mapping out every inch of your body with his rough hands. Wonwoo kisses any part of you he can reach, lips trailing from your neck down to your collarbones. His large hands slip back to your ass to deliver a sharp spank which makes you fall forward. Wonwoo skillfully captures one of your tits in his mouth, tongue immediately gliding over your hardened nipple.
“Nonu!” You cry out as your arms hook over his shoulders to keep him close, softly moaning as he switches between your tits, warm tongue swirling around each erect nub.
The cute little nickname makes his cock twitch. Fuck. You were going to drive him completely insane.
He gently nips at your sensitive bud before pulling away to look up at you. “You look so fucking pretty on top of me, babydoll.” He murmurs, forcing himself to stay still as you shift against his leaking tip.
His sweet praise is enough to make your pussy flutter. You mewl as he teasingly circles his cock against your pussy. The insistent nudges from his leaking head are making your head swim with pleasure. You’re so soaked at this point that he can feel your arousal start to stick to his skin.
Finally, you can’t resist any longer and slowly sink down on his cock. Your tight walls stretch wide, welcoming the bulbous head with just a bit of resistance. It’s been almost two weeks, and you’d already forgotten it felt to have such big and thick dick inside you. His cock isn’t even halfway inside yet, and you can nearly feel him in your stomach.
You sit back and slowly circle your hips, throwing your head back with a moan when his twitching tip nudges your walls repeatedly. Wonwoo feels like he’s gone and died to heaven with the filthy show you’re giving him of your soppy cunt. He curses quietly at the sight of your tight cunt clinging to his fat tip, nearly blowing his load at the erotic sight.
“Show me what you can do, pretty girl.”
He doesn’t have to tell you twice. With a wanton moan and your hands braced behind you, you slide all the way down. You whimper at the stretch, loving the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open. Mewls flutter from your lips, and it feels like the oxygen is slowly being forced out of your lungs.
Once he’s fully inside you, Wonwoo is sure that he’s never going to feel as good as he does now. His head is thrown back and his eyes roll to the back of his head. The feeling of your hot cunt wrapped around him is absolute heaven. You share in his feeling as you moan loudly, completely full and stretched out as he grips your ass to steady you on his dick.
Wonwoo can’t stop looking at the fucked out look on your face while you’re busy staring down at where your pussy and his cock meet. You don’t notice how his pupils are blown out with lust at the sight of you impaled on his cock. His heart fluttering in his chest because fuck, you’re like a literal goddess on top of him.
“Shit, babydoll. You gotta move.” He sounds out of breath, almost needy with his plea.
Wonwoo looks so fucked out and pretty that your pussy tightens around him at the hot sight. That's all it takes for you to give him what he wants. You lift your hips before slamming your ass back down. His cock reaches so deep inside you that you throw you head back with a loud cry. It makes you ravenous, and you eagerly repeat your movements until your practically bouncing on his cock.
You lean towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, your pace faltering a bit when your lips meet his neck. As you litter his skin with wet kisses and gentle bites, you feel his cock throb and twitch inside you. It makes you think that you might actually get him to come first this time.
At least, until Wonwoo commits the tender act of pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder, removing a hand from your ass to gently thumb at your clit.
“Fuck, Nonu.” You whimper at the stimulation. “You’re so deep.”
“Missed having you on my cock, babydoll. You look so fucking pretty being split open like this.” His fingers trace your stretched hole before they slap your clit.
You moan wantonly when Wonwoo suddenly thrusts up, going impossibly deeper. That’s when you know he's about to ruin you in the way you’ve been craving. You shove your face into his neck, sucking and biting his skin so he can move you on his cock in the way he wants. Apparently, this isn’t enough for him, though.
Wonwoo grips your face, pressing his fingers into your cheeks. “Need to see your pretty face while I fuck you stupid.”
He doesn’t give you time to respond before he’s gripping your ass and grinding you on his cock. His fingertips press into your soft flesh as he lifts you and brings you down his length. You start bouncing to meeting his pumps. Broken mewls contrast with Wonwoo’s groans and mix in the the sound of lewd squelching and skin slapping. His abs tighten every time you come back down, thighs flexing beneath your ass.
Your swollen clit rubs against his pelvis with every thrust, and the feeling is quickly driving you insane. The knot in your stomach is coming undone fast, much faster than you want, but you feel too good to stop. Wonwoo isn’t doing much better. His mind is only full of you and the way your hot cunt is gripping his cock. The carnal look in his eye is locked to where you’re connected. He’s mesmerized with strings of arousal connecting his skin to your dripping folds.
“You look so fucking pretty when you’re bouncing on my cock—just like last time. Gonna let me pump your pretty pussy full again, babydoll?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry out mindlessly, a delicious ache blooming in your core. “Whatever you want!”
You can’t believe Wonwoo has the audacity to blush like you two aren’t literally fucking like animals. It makes you gush around him, orgasm so close that you can feel it in every inch of your body.
“God, baby. Keep fucking yourself stupid on my dick.” He growls as he fucks up into you harder, needing to see you come undone on his cock.
The leaking tip of his cock brushes against your sweet spot over and over again until your eyes gloss over like you’re on the brink of tears. Wonwoo will never get enough of that fucked out face of yours, and it drives that insatiable desire in him to fuck you impossibly harder.
It takes only a few more deep thrusts for you to come on his cock with a loud moan. Your body shudders and shakes against him in absolute pleasure. Wonwoo’s movements don't stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and straight into overstimulation. But you can’t really care because it feels so fucking good. All you can do is cry out his name until he’s emptying his balls inside you.
“Y/N!” He groans into your ear as he pumps you full of his hot cum, thick ropes filling you to the brim until it’s leaking out and coating his heavy sack.
You’re gently grinding into each other as your mouths meet for a messy kiss. Wonwoo’s still-hard cock keeps twitching inside you, and you can’t help but groan into his mouth at the feeling.
“More.” You plead against his lips. “Want you to keep stuffing me full of your cum.”
“Fuck, angel.” Wonwoo pants out. “You’ll be the death of me.”
But if this was death, he’d gladly embrace it every time.
Wonwoo moves down the bed until his back meets the messy sheets. With his hands secured on your waist and the back of your neck, he pulls you down to his chest and forces you to take every inch of his throbbing cock. At this angle, he feels even thicker. Your mind goes blank as his fat dick spears into your tight hole relentlessly.
Wet noises fill the room, dancing in the air with your wanton cries. A white ring forms at the base of his cock, smearing down to his loaded sack. Wonwoo moans along with you, large hands sliding down your body to grip fistfuls of your ass. You let out a broken gasp when he grinds up and pulls you down, stuffing you to the brim only to do it again and again.
You’re panting and whimpering as his cock sinks in deep, plugging your dripping cunt. Tingles of ecstasy course through your quivering body with ever snap of his hips. You aren’t even moving anymore, it’s all Wonwoo. He’s fucking you on his cock like you're his personal fucktoy. The more you think about it like that, the more turned on you’re getting.
Your hot cunt tightens around his veiny cock. The drag of his veiny length stretching you out makes more of your juices coat his dick and spill down to his heavy balls. Wonwoo shudders when he feels how tight you keep getting. He can feel his own high quickly approaching.
“You gonna come for me again, babydoll? Soak my cock with your cream and make a mess all over me?” Wonwoo changes the angle of his hips as he speaks his lewd words. The tip of his cock slams into the soft spot inside you that makes you scream in pleasure. He keeps pounding into you from below without stopping, and you love every second of it.
“Fucking love your cock.” You babble mindlessly, any and every thought that’s not about the fat cock splitting you open being fucked out of you.
“Sweet little cunt is all mine now.” Wonwoo growls possessively. “Gonna be mine forever, right, baby?”
It’s all too much. His filthy yet sweet words combined with his fierce thrusts make you fall over that edge and into your orgasm, this one more powerful than the last. Your body erupts in flames as you squirt all over Wonwoo’s aching cock. He keeps you locked on his dick, balls slapping against your ass as he continues to pound into your gushing cunt.
“So fucking good.” Wonwoo groans gutturally before his hot cum floods your ruined cunt, painting your stretched out walls and claiming you in every sense of the word.
So much of his cum spills out and trickles down his pulsing cock, and you whimper when Wonwoo fucks it deeper into your pussy. You’re both sweaty and sticky, yet there’s still a burning ache in your core that seems like it can only be soothes by Wonwoo and his big cock.
“Want it again.” You moan into his ear, clenching down on his twitching dick. “Please.”
This is where you learn that the resident bad boy can never tell you no.
You barely process him flipping you over and manhandling you into the position he wants. Wonwoo presses your legs against your chest and start to pound into you with rough thrusts. He’s slow but brutish, slamming against your cervix every time he pushes in. Your cream soaks his thick cock and your inner thighs. It slowly drips down to your ass where his heavy balls slap against the tender skin.
“Fuck, babydoll. I’ll never get enough of this tight little pussy.” He sounds so gone, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust.
You cry out each time, the pleasure blooming into that delicious feeling in your stomach. Wonwoo’s words have you clenching around his dick, and he lets out a deep groan. He keeps moaning out praises about how good you are for him, but it’s hard to focus on his words when his thick cock is pummeling into you relentlessly.
You continuously gush around Wonwoo’s cock on the brink of yet another orgasm as you leave a stain around the base. Your pussy is stretched beyond belief, and it feels so fucking good that’s it’s making you delirious.
“I’m gonna have to stuff this pretty pussy full every day.” Wonwoo moans, loving how your cunt keeps spasming around his throbbing cock. He’s fantasised about this for so long, and now that he’s had you he’s completely addicted to you.
“Fuh-Fuck!” You wail, soaking his cock even more at his promise, leaving it dripping.
Wonwoo’s thrusts grow more powerful and ravenous. The pretty sounds you’re letting out every time he drives in and out of you is driving him insane. It’s not long for the harsh snapping of his hips to finally send you into your climax. This one is more somehow more intense than your previous one. Wonwoo groans loudly, watching as you squirt all over his cock.
Each time Wonwoo strokes your g-spot, another gush of liquid spurts from your core. “You’re so fucking hot, angel. Making a mess all over my cock.”
“Come inside me.” You beg with a loud moan, mind already so far gone to think about anything else but being fucked full of his hot cum.
Your lewd plea only drives his desire for you. Wonwoo feels his orgasm approaching with every rough thrust. His balls are aching to be emptied again, and he doesn’t hesitate to chase that euphoric feeling. Your pussy is practically begging him to fill you up with his seed, and he does exactly that. With one final shove, he bottoms out inside you and stills, cock twitching and throbbing in your hot cunt.
A huge load of cum pours into you, coating your walls and taking up the minimal space his cock hasn’t covered. Wonwoo slowly fucks it into you until you’re both whimpering from the overstimulation.
When he pulls out, his cum and your cream slowly leak out of your messy cunt. The fucked out pants you’re letting out are quickly stifled by Wonwoo's lips. You moan into his mouth as he slowly lets go of your legs and hooks them around his hips.
Pulling away, you barely register as he starts to tenderly kiss all over your body. You’re completely sated and too gone to acknowledge your surroundings even as Wonwoo gets up and brings back a warm towel. He gently cleans you up, whispering sweet praises that make you feel a different type of euphoria.
“Hold me, Nonu.” You finally manage to say when you realize he’s done cleaning the both of you up.
His smile is so pretty and precious as he goes to lay with you. The way he cradles you against his chest is comforting, and you know that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
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taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo
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harrysfolklore · 3 months
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Tom Blyth and YN Take a Couples Quiz | GQ - actress!yn
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gif by @obriy <333
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
read my actress!yn x tom insta blurb here <3
//
"Hi I'm YN" 
"And I'm Tom"
"And today we're doing..." you looked at Tom so you could say the following part of your introduction together, "The GQ Couple Quiz!"
"Are you nervous?" you said as you looked at him, noticing his hands fidgeting on his lap.
"I'm alright, I'm pretty confident I'm a great boyfriend and I'll know all the answers." he gave the camera his million dollar smile and you couldn't help but show a smile of your own.
"Okay, first question," you looked at the card in your hands, "What is the name of my first movie?
"That one's pretty easy," he shrugged before continuing, "Spider-man Homecoming."
"That's correct," you flipped the card to read the next question, "What city did I grow up in?
Tom stayed quiet for few seconds, looking nervously at the camera and making you laugh. 
"Already? Really?" you looked at him in disbelief, "I thought you were a great boyfriend!"
"I am! This is a tricky one!" Tom moved his hands around and you covered your mouth with the card to hide your laugh "Okay, you were born in California, but you actually grew up in Phoenix."
"Correct! See! You knew it," you grabbed the card with the next question, "What would my job be if I weren't an actress?"
"Detective," Tom quickly said, "100% detective."
"Oh! That was fast," Tom shrugged before you continued, "Okay bonus, what kind of detective?" you looked at him with a raise eyebrow.
"Homicide," he replied quickly again, "All of those true crime podcasts prove it."
"Well yeah, that's true," you smiled as you read out the following question,  "Where was our first date?"
"It was at your house," Tom smiled as he remembered the moment, "And it was playing Clue, and I had to pretend to enjoy that game for you, and it was totally worth it."
"How sweet of you," you smiled at him before continuing, "Oh boy, you have to be specific for this one," Tom raised his eyebrows and waited for you to give him the question, "What is my night routine?"
"So, she puts on this little pink robe," he explained directly to the camera, "And then she puts her hair on one of these stretchy bandanna things so her hair is out of her face," you smiled at him, indicating that he was answering correctly, "Then she washes her face with this like foamy cleanse thing, then she puts on all her creams, and then when she's walking to the bed she turns on the heat, which is probably the only thing that we fight about," you both let out a laugh as he continued, "And then she gets in, she goes by her cupboard and she puts on these really fluffy and ridiculously warm socks and also my really baggy tracksuit bottoms but she rolls 'em and she puts one of my t-shirts 'cause she likes the smell of my aftershave," he smirked and you blushed for a second, "Then she gets in bed and she asks me to put one of these big fluffy, white blankets in the dryer so It's warm, then I tuck her in and put the other blanket on her  and that's it."
"Okay wow, you killed that one," you smiled at him, "You did really well."
The next questions were pretty easy for Tom's liking, getting right your astrological sing, celebrity crush, favorite ice cream flavor and the year you won your first Emmy. He ended up getting 23 points.
Now, it was your turn to answer questions about him.
"You feel ready, love?" he said giving you a smirk and you only nodded motioning him to read the first question, "Okay good luck, how old was I when I got my first role?"
"You were fifteen and already getting cast by Ridley Scott ." you answered confidently and sent a wink his way.
"Neat. What was the name of the high school I graduated from?"
"Was it North Hilld?" at this, Tom raised his eyebrows and shook his head, "Shit! It was Hills something, right?"
"You really don't know the name, love? This is making you look bad!" you covered your face in embarrassment, even tho you knew he was joking, "The correct answer is Arnold Hills."
"Ohhh that's right, give me the next one I'll do better."
"Okay, okay," he looked down at the card with the next question,  "Who's my celebrity crush?"
"Also easy, Jennifer Aniston," you smiled looking at the camera, “You had a poster of her hidden in your closet and all.”
"Nope, you're wrong," you raised your eyebrow at him, pretty sure you were right about your answer, "You're my celebrity crush, love."
"Tom! That was so bad!" you both laughed and he winked to the camera, "This is a serious game."
"Okay, okay, you got that one right," you rolled your eyes with affection as he read your next question, "The next questions are going to be a single sentence answer so I need you to do it as fast as you can, okay?"
"I'm ready, let's do it" 
"My go-to Karaoke song?
"Senorita by Justin Timberlake."
"What is my coffee order?"
"Oat milk latte."
"What is my biggest pet peeve?"
"Loud chewers."
"What's my hidden talent?"
"Whistling, like, melodically whistling if that makes sense."
"Okayy, those are all correct," he put the cards on the small coffee table between you, "We make a pretty good team, don´t you think?"
"We do, but I'm pretty sure I won." you shrugged and Tom laughed as you both turned to the camera to say your goodbyes.
"Thank you so much for watching. I personally think I won but we'll see."
"Thank you GQ!" you waved you hand and the camera stopped rolling shortly after.
The video ended up being one of the most watched on GQ's YouTube channel.
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chelseeebe · 3 months
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still into you
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after abruptly leaving hawkins (and you) seven years ago, eddie munson, ex-boyfriend turned rockstar, makes a grand return. how will things pan out when your lives couldn’t be further apart?
this has been in the drafts for god knows how long and you can definitely tell where my writing started to improve as i came back to it.. hope y’all enjoy anyway! this is so long good lord. also includes a bit of bestfriendism with stevie!
18+. mdni. smut. mentions of alcohol. eddie is a dickhead. no use of y/n!
read part two here.
‎♡‧₊˚
‘you know he’s coming back next weekend?’ steve mutters, nodding towards you as you rip the sellotape from the brown box, beginning to stack the cans of soup.
‘is he? oh my god oh my god,’ feigning excitement with a straight face.
you’d already known he was coming back, you’d received the invitation just like everybody else. except, you’d swiftly put the gimmicky piece of paper into the trash and got on with your day. confused why everyone else seemed to be losing their goddamn minds over it.
he huffs quietly, helping you with the heavy tins, ‘are you gonna go?’ steve didn’t actually work in melvalds but came in on his breaks purely to chat and distract you from your work.
‘am i gonna go? hmm, let me think.. no.’
‘he wants to see you.. you should come,’ prodding his elbow into your side, collapsing the box into a flat piece of cardboard.
‘you spoke to him?’ ears perking up. you didn’t care if he’d mentioned you. no, really.
‘yeah.. he called a few weeks ago, y’know when the invitations got sent out,’ picking up the next box to start filling the shelf.
‘oh! it’s nice to know he called you and just hilarious to know i never got a phone call,’ getting frankly quite sick of hearing about eddie fucking munson and his grand return.
once upon a time, eddie had actually been your boyfriend. must’ve been 7 or so years ago by this point.. anyway, that was before he’d got his big break and decided that he was going to completely forget about hawkins.. and about you. you’d still been together after his first tiny tour, excitedly waiting for him to come home when he just.. never did.
he’d had the decency to at least call and tell you that he was breaking up with you.. we’re just in different places right now.. it’s not you.. i don’t want you to ruin your life waiting for me..
it was essentially a whole bunch of bullshit, because the very next month he was spotted with some bottle blonde model looking suspiciously close at some club he’d have absolutely hated the year prior. it was like a punch to the gut, flicking through the pages of the trashy magazine just knowing that you hadn’t been enough for this new lifestyle of his.
from then on, you’d decided to disengage with any and everything about him. turning the tv off when corroded coffin came on one of the morning talk shows, leaving the room at parties when one of his song’s inevitably came on and just completely blanking out of the conversation when his name was brought up. it was easier that way, saved your feelings and the awkward glances you’d get.
at some point things had become slightly more complicated and you’re not sure how exactly it had happened but you had wound up pregnant. and by jason carver no less. maybe it was your shared disdain for eddie that had brought you together. who knows?
but it had happened and now you had to deal with it. and although jason may come in a close second to world’s biggest assholes.. you had gained a beautiful daughter from it all and had become quite content with your single mom life.
people had come and gone, robin jetting off to some fancy college in california.. jonathan and nancy ending up in new york at some hot-shot newspaper.. the kids you’d sort of gathered had all gone off to various colleges, becoming adults themselves. all except for steve.
steve had stayed in hawkins like you, begrudgingly following his father’s footsteps, getting a job at his accounting firm. it was good money and kept his dad happy so he couldn’t fault it really. he’d even got his own place just down the street from your house and at some point you’d just accepted that he was probably your only friend in hawkins.
it had brought the two of you undeniably closer and maybe you’d even call him your best friend now. well, except for right now as he was beginning to piss you off with all this fussing over eddie.
‘you have to come.. it’s not just for him, everyone is going.. it’s a reunion,’ steve continues to pester you despite your efforts to shut him down.
‘steve, i’m not going and that’s that.’
he sighs, staring at you with a blank expression, ‘okay, well.. i’ll tell him it’s a maybe,’ checking his watch before frowning, ‘shit, i’m late.. i’ll see you later,’ throwing the empty cardboard to the floor before dashing off down the aisle, giving you an exaggerated wave as he disappears.
you just knew that he was not going to drop this until you agreed to go. but he could kick and scream as much as he liked, you had absolutely zero desire to go this flimsy reunion and even less desire to see eddie in the flesh.
-
it’s another dull week of stacking shelves and managing a team of absolute morons and before you know it, it’s the day before that fucking reunion and steve is still as incessant as ever that you must go.
‘my mom can look after ella.. please just come,’ he sounded like he was a second away from getting on his knees to actually beg you to go.
you’d started to just ignore him now, getting on with whatever you were doing, choosing to give him the silent treatment. he hated that.
‘you’re so annoying,’ he scoffs, still helping you unbox the bags of chips, ‘will you just come for five minutes.. you don’t even have to talk to eddie, it’s the first time we’ll all be together again.. puh-leaseee,’ breaking into a weird sort of sing-song tone.
you exhale through your nose, visibly frustrated by the man, ‘i’m going to ban you in a minute,’ raising your eyebrows, taking the same tone you used when ella was being a brat.
‘no you won’t,’ furrowing his brows, ‘what if i promise to stand in between you the whole night? i’ll beat him with a stick if he even tries to talk to you,’ completely serious with what he just said.
you chortle, covering your mouth as one of the elderly customers walks past, slightly bewildered by the noise that just escaped your mouth, ‘couldn’t you just beat him with a stick anyway?’
‘ehh.. not really, he is paying for the whole thing,’ straightening the bags of air he’d just placed on the shelf, ‘i mean, i could if you really want me to.’
you roll your eyes, of course he was. he’d rented the fanciest restaurant just outside of town for your gaggle of pals. any chance to flaunt the fact that he’d made it out of this hell hole and left the rest of you in the dirt.
‘i have a child, steve, i can’t just go out and leave her at home.. some of us aren’t free like you are,’ turning to face him with a stern hand on your hip.
‘i just told you my mom’ll look after her.. she hasn’t seen her in so long and.. and you can stay at mine and i’ll take you to her first thing in the morning,’ his eyes are round, glimmering in the harsh overhead lights.
‘i don’t have anything to wear,’ shrugging, you really didn’t. becoming a mother isn’t quite so glamorous and a lot of clothes you’d once fit into had become a little tight.
‘when d’you finish?’
narrowing your eyes at him, ‘two..’
‘great.. okay well, i’ll take a half-day and we can go shopping.. on me,’ wiggling his eyebrows at you. the thing about steve is that he believes that most problems can be solved by throwing money at it.
he wasn’t wrong, of course.
because you reluctantly agree to go shopping with him on the condition that you weren’t definitely going to this thing. you were just going to try on dresses. that was it.
-
you get a cab to the restaurant, there was no way in hell you were doing this sober nor did you want to subject steve to being sober for your sake. palms clammy as you clamber out of the vehicle, immediately regretting your decision.
no one would care if you didn’t go, right? you could quite easily just get back into the taxi and go home without forcing yourself to endure the night.
steve’s one step ahead of you, grabbing your hand so you can’t run away. throwing him an awful glare but you weren’t really mad, just annoyed that he’d succeeded in persuading you to come.
‘c’mon.. it won’t be so bad once you’re in there,’ smoothing down his fresh shirt as he begins to walk up the winding path, dragging you along behind him.
he’s wrong. it’s so much worse inside. the place was huge, extravagantly decorated and full of people you’d once regarded as your best friends, all too busy in their own conversations to notice you and steve walk in.
it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard from them, it had just been through occasional letters and christmas cards rather than seeing them face to face. robin would call sometimes, fill you in on whatever she had been up to and beg to speak to ella who absolutely loved it. you were sure they were on the same wavelength.
you look to steve with wary eyes, digging your fingertips into his hand, ‘we could just leave right now.. no one would even know,’ tugging gently on his arm.
‘hey,’ he whispers, ‘it’s okay.. look, robin’s coming over, we’ll say hi and see how you feel,’ using his spare hand to wave at the bubbly girl, dropping your hand to give her a hug.
‘oh my god,’ she rushes, ‘how are you? you look so good.. and i don’t mean you,’ pulling away from steve to throw her arms around you, her gentle hands rubbing on your back.
‘hah, it’s nice to see you too,’ steve rolls his eyes, grabbing two of the champagne flutes being ferried around by fancy waiters.
she pulls back, ‘i didn’t think you were coming.. how are you doing? how’s ella?’ the words falling out of her mouth at super speed, it was as if her mouth moved before her brain did.
‘i wasn’t gonna but i wanted to see you guys,’ you nod, taking the glass from steve’s outstretched hand and taking a lengthy sip, ‘i’m okay.. ella’s okay.. you’ll have to come and see her before you leave.’
‘i will i will! i literally landed like two hours ago and had to rush but i’m back until friday,’ her hands flying around as she spoke, ‘come and say hello..’ her arm intertwines with yours as she leans in closer to your ear, ‘he’s staring y’know..’
your eyes roll back on their own, not even wanting to search the room for him, ‘i’m not speaking to him so he can stare all he likes,’ straightening up as you approach the group robin had left.
nancy’s talking to max about something in incredible detail but is quite to stop when you approach, mouth in a small ‘o’ as she hugs you, ‘you came? i thought we were gonna miss you,’ grinning wide when she pulls back.
you give an overdramatic sigh, ‘of course i had to come.. you’d all miss me too much,’ waving to the rest of the group.
there are a lot of small pleasantries swapped, asking about their journey’s here and how they’d been.. standard small talk. but then el asks to see a picture of ella, ecstatic that their names were so similar. you’d come prepared, pulling the creased picture out of your bag.
they all gush and coo over her, it was a picture you’d snapped from her first day of kindergarten, cheesing with her pigtails and pink hair bobbles. passing it around the gathered group, still steadily sipping on the bitter champagne.
‘who’s that?’ eddie asks, you hadn’t noticed him sidle over to the crowd, stood peering over lucas’ shoulder at the photograph.
your eyes meet his, seeing his face for the first time in what felt like centuries. he looked older, obviously, still sporting the same long curls except now it actually looked as if it’d been styled. he’s in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, forearms now littered with tattoos and a nice looking watch. your heart just about stops beating when you realise you’ll now have to explain exactly who that is.
‘uh.. that’s ella,’ you nod, not quite meeting his eyes, ‘..my daughter,’ taking the photo from lucas’ hand, the atmosphere had quite suddenly shifted and people begin to scatter, starting their own conversations so they don’t have to bare witness to this one.
‘oh.. oh, right.. well, congratulations then,’ the shadow of a smile on his lips, could he feel how fucking awkward this was?
‘thank you,’ giving him a half nod, startled as steve’s hand brushes the small of your back. he’d seen that you were in conversation and had left dustin to fulfil his security guard promise.
‘it’s nice that you two found each other.. you have a beautiful daughter,’ still not fully committed to smiling but he was getting there.
your face contorts, immediately looking to steve before letting out a god awful cackle, ‘oh no.. she’s not steve’s,’ covering your mouth before another taunting laugh comes out.
steve is trying to stifle his grin but fails, reaching his hand out to shake eddie’s hand, ‘ah man, no ella’s not mine but she is beautiful, isn’t she? how are you?’
you’re eternally grateful that he he’s managed to sway the conversation and you aren’t forced to explain why or how you’d had a child with jason fucking carver. turning back to robin as you hear steve ramble on about work and corroded coffin’s new album, something you had absolutely no care about.
‘shall we get another drink?’ robin asks, eyeing the open bar and your empty glass.
‘please.’
the rest of the night is going.. relatively well. it’s kinda unsettling to watch the younger kids drink legally, getting more boisterous and loud as the night progresses. it’s nice, if not a little sad just thinking about how you weren’t really able to enjoy yourself at their age because you had a newborn.
you must’ve been deep in thought as you don’t even notice eddie creep up to the empty table, standing awkwardly besides your chair, ‘can we talk?’
your eyes shoot up to meet his, baffled by his presence, ‘what could we possibly have to talk about?’
he exhales through his nose, ‘uh.. a lot? we don’t have to do it here.. i have a room upstairs or.. outside?’
‘no,’ gripping onto your glass of wine, desperately trying to grab the attention of someone behind eddie to come and save you, ‘i don’t want to speak to you.’
he’s exasperated, clutching onto his beer with strained white knuckles. how were you ever supposed to move past this when you wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to explain himself. but that was exactly it. you didn’t care about any of the silly excuses you’re sure he’d conjured up, he did what he did and that was that.
‘i’m trying here..’ sounding exasperated, ‘how ‘bout dinner? sometime this week, on me,’ his voice is deeper now, raspier. you figure as a result of constant partying and chain smoking while on tour.
‘i have a child and a job.. i don’t have time for dinner with you on top of that,’ swallowing the rest of the sweet white wine, putting the empty glass back on the table with a forceful slam.
you make brief eye contact with will who was passing behind eddie and decide to take the opportunity to pounce, standing from your chair and rushing over the second he nears your table.
‘will.. hey,’ speeding to catch him up, mouthing a small save me, clinging to his arm as you move away from eddie who was stood deflated at the table.
will thankfully catches your drift, steering you towards the bar, ‘you okay? i was just about to leave..’ placing his empty glass onto the bar with a soft sigh.
‘what? no.. if i can’t go then you’re not allowed either,’ talking sternly to the boy even though he now towered above you and just about everybody else in here.
he screws up his face, looking over to the dance floor, ‘it’s just..’ sighing once again, ‘awful, isn’t it?’ following his gaze to an intoxicated mike performing an elaborate air guitar routine in the middle of the floor.
it wasn’t exactly the same, but you could empathise with the difficult situation and that foul feeling in your stomach that you were sure he could feel too. you could imagine that it wasn’t easy to see the man you’d once, or perhaps still loved after so long. in fact, you didn’t really need to imagine at all.
deciding it was better to change the subject, distract him from the unraveling scene on the dance floor, ‘d’you smoke?’
he looks around quickly, watching out for a listening jonathan, you assume before he nods quickly, ‘but no one can know,’ a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.
you return the devilish grin before hooking your arm in his, pulling him towards the door where you could get the hell away from annoying men and their long black hair.
-
it’s gone three by the time you get back to steve’s, genuinely having to coax him from the party and into the cab you’d shared with a belligerent dustin, making sure he had got home safely.
‘i wasn’t too mean, was i?’ snuggled up in steve’s blankets, facing each other in the low light of his room.
‘nooo, no you were on fire,’ he laughs, he was still tipsy and slightly reeking of booze as he lay next to you.
‘really? you’re sure?’ he was definitely just drunk and blabbing on but you’d take it.
‘yes.. it was perfect,’ he hiccups, interrupting his sentence, ‘buuut.. and i’m not the only one who said this so don’t kill me..’ kissing the back of his teeth, ‘you’re not gonna like what i have to say.’
‘what? what is it?’ prodding his shoulder with a quick jab. knowing eddie, he’d probably gone round the party whispering some bullshit about the two of you.
‘well..’ holding his hands in the air, ‘there’s still chemistry there.. y’know i could see it,’ raising his eyebrows, hands collapsing onto the blanket.
‘right, i’m going to sleep.. you’re drunk and just saying stupid shit now,’ rolling your eyes as you settle into the soft pillow, closing your eyes so you no longer had to entertain his idiotic nonsense.
he chortles, hiccuping mid-laugh which makes a horrid choking noise, ‘i’m not that drunk.. robin said it too,’ the lamp clicks off, darkening the room, ‘and dustin..’
‘go to sleep steve,’ unamused and tired.
‘okay okay.. goodnight,’ he calls, you can hear the smile in his voice as he turns to face the other way, taking that as your opportunity to rest your head on his back, nuzzling into the soft cotton t-shirt.
-
monday is particularly awful and you’re reminded exactly why you don’t drink often. two days on and you’re still exhausted, half-heartedly filling the shelves and just trying to make it to two o’clock.
in your tired state, one of the bottles of shampoo you were putting out, falls out of your hand and rolls off somewhere down the aisle. you sigh, a deep, fed-up, exhaustive sigh and get up to go and fetch it when the bottle appears before your face, a tattooed, ring-filled hand latched onto it.
‘carver? really?’ eddie frowns, watching you from above, eyebrows furrowed together.
you place the bottle onto it’s rightful spot on the shelf and choose to ignore him. if he’d come all the way down here just to piss you off about your poor life choices then he could get fucked.
‘when’d that happen?’
blanking him again as you continue to put stuff onto the shelves. this was the easiest way to guarantee that you weren’t going to get yourself fired for being rude to him.
‘you gonna ignore me? i just wanna know,’ still poking and prodding, he clearly wasn’t very good at picking up on context clues.
nothing.
‘fuck, can you just talk to me for five minutes?’ your silence was driving him crazy, aggravating him to no end.
‘i’m at work, so no,’ hurriedly trying to finish the stock you had so you had an excuse to rush out the back and away from him.
he was fortunate that it was a quiet monday, the store full of mostly older ladies who had no idea who he was. you sorta hoped that he’d get mobbed and would have to hurry off and leave you alone.
‘why jason? out of literally everyone else in this shithole you choose jason?’ screwing his face up in disgust.
you slam the box cutter down with a loud clatter, causing a few turned heads and raised eyebrows. fuck ‘em. if you had done what you’d really wanted to do, you’d be locked up forever.
‘i don’t know if you remember this but my boyfriend of like, two years ran away and never came home so yeah.. that kinda fucked with me a little and lucky for me, jason carver was there and also hated my ex’s guts.. so it was perfect, you know?’ staring flatly at him, you were not dealing with his shit today.
eddie scoffs, ‘so you had a kid with him? and now.. what? you play happy families just to spite me? is that it?’
‘yes eddie, i had a whole child just to piss you off.’
he gawps back at you, clearly also did not possess the ability to sense sarcasm.
‘no,’ scowling at him, ‘it was an accident and now he’s.. i dunno, coaching basketball at some school in ohio or some shit.. why don’t you go and bother him?’
‘so you’re not together?’
you can only roll your eyes in response, in sheer disbelief that he’d made such a fuss because he couldn’t just outright ask if you were single.
un-fucking-believable.
you’ve had just about enough of this conversation, pulling your little trolley back towards the swing doors that lead to the warehouse. at least he wasn’t allowed in there.
‘wait! wait..’ he grabs onto the other side of the trolley, stopping you from walking off, ‘have dinner with me tonight or.. tomorrow?’ eyes big and pleading.
‘now why would i do that?’
‘because i want to explain myself.. i need to.’
one of the younger shoppers notices who he is and begins trying to talk to him, coming over to where you two stood rather excitedly. eddie is kind enough to smile and give her a few polite words, eyes still latched onto yours despite the ecstatic woman beside him.
‘okay,’ honestly just wanting to get away from all this commotion, ‘tomorrow.’
his scowl subsides, replaced by a gleaming grin, ‘six o’clock.. pino’s, i’ll sort it, okay?’ already starting to walk away from the crazy woman.
‘right,’ you nod, pulling your trolley away and into the back warehouse, leaning against the concrete wall. the whole exchange was tiring, knocking whatever tiny bit of energy out of you.
were you actually gonna go?
absolutely fucking not.
-
by the time six rolls around the next night, you really had forgotten all about it. rushing to get ella her dinner after swimming lessons, already worrying about paying for yet another field trip she’d sprung on you earlier. you’d begun to wonder if they even taught in the classrooms anymore with the amount of permission slips she brought home.
she’s finally settled into bed, after much protesting and a lot of coaxing. you’re just about to finally relax on the couch when someone hammers on your front door. and if you weren’t already pissed off with ella’s whining, you were most definitely about to be with whichever mindless prick was banging on your door.
‘what do you want?’ you hiss, jerking the door open to reveal a pathetic looking eddie on the other side, face forlorn and dejected.
he’s in that white shirt again. it makes you sick to your stomach to admit that it really does look good on him. his arms now more defined, the cotton sticking to his muscles, briefly showcasing the new tattoos underneath. maybe he’d actually got off of his ass and did something other than smoke weed all day.
‘oh so you are alive, d’you forget about something?’ he’s snarling now, having conjured up some elaborate excuse in his head as to why you hadn’t showed, only to find you at home, seemingly with no care in the world.
‘oops,’ the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile, you hadn’t even actually meant to stand him up, you were just gonna call his hotel and cancel but the thought had just completely slipped your mind.
and even if it shouldn’t, it really did feel good. knowing he was the one sat waiting for you for once.
‘oops? i sat there for an hour waiting for you and then spent the last hour trying to convince dustin to give me your fucking address.. and all you can say is oops?’
you shrug, ‘feels pretty shitty to be forgotten about, doesn’t it?’ tilting your head, watching as his face falls. he’d been got.
‘okay.. okay, i get it, and i’m sorry.. there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t feel like shit for how i treated you,’ his head dips low, looking particularly sorry for himself.
and for a second you do too. not that he deserved it. quickly having to remind yourself exactly what he had done to you, which was not at all helped by the fact that he now had everything he’d ever wanted in life.
and you couldn’t fault your life. truly. but fuck did it sting sometimes, to know that your life had stagnated, stuck in the same shitty town you’d grown up in while he was on the other side of the country, more money than sense and a hoard of doting fans that would do absolutely anything he’d ask of them.
‘good,’ you bark, going to slam the door shut only for it to bang against his black boot wedged in the door, ‘if you don’t move your foot i’ll- i’ll call the police.’
‘no you won’t,’ his hand reaches out to grab onto the other side of the handle, he could’ve easily pushed his way in if he’d really wanted, ‘let’s talk.. like adults,’ begging you now, ‘please.’
you huff, this would end with you either letting him in or being forced to wake ella after you bashed his head into the doorframe. it was easier to just accept the first option and you’d find some bullshit to get him to leave later on.
opening the door wider to let him in, keeping your eyes square on the ground as he walks through, peering around at your home. probably comparing it to his mansion in the hollywood hills the pretentious fuck.
‘nice..’ he nods, leaning in to look at the photo of you and ella a few christmas’ ago, she was tiny then, sporting a miniature santa hat.
‘yeah well, she’s asleep upstairs so.. make it quick,’ you frown, closing the door behind him, watching as his eyes take in the cluttered room, smile fading when he catches sight of the singular picture you have up of jason and ella.
‘i can’t believe you chose to fuck jason of all people.. i mean, i’ve made some shitty decisions in my life but..’ he stops himself from going any further when he sees your face, if looks could kill, he’d be long gone by now.
‘did you come here for a reason? or are you here to talk about my life decisions.. because i really don’t want to hear it from you,’ crossing your arms over your chest, wanting him out of your house.
‘no.. no, shit- i’m sorry,’ he shuffles on his feet, banging his head, ‘i wanna talk.. properly.’
you roll your hand to motion for him to continue, ‘go on..’
he inhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to psyche himself up to actually say what he wanted to say. it wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say, he just couldn’t string it together to make sense.
‘i’m sorry for the way i treated you.. it wasn’t right and i know that now,’ his hand coming to rub the back of his clammy next, why was your house so fucking hot?
‘okay.. apology accepted, was that everything?’ you say flatly, glancing up the stairs to make sure ella wasn’t awake and out of her room.
his face falls, ‘can you just.. just let me explain,’ his adam apple bobbing as he swallows, ‘why don’t you sit down..’ motioning towards your ratty couch.
you relent your stern stature, hesitantly going to sit on the couch, trying to ensure that he couldn’t possibly sit next to you by sprawling your legs out onto the empty cushion. so he takes the seat furthest away, running his hands down his tight jeans. designer, no less.. the only person you knew stupid enough to spend thousands on designer jeans just to tear holes in them.
‘when i ended things with you, i wasn’t.. well, it was me, but i had my manager screaming in my ear that it’d never work and he could hook me up with some fuckin’ model.. it’d help the band.. so that’s what i did,’ and for once, he looked genuinely remorseful, fiddling with the loose threads on his expensive jeans.
‘so you sold out? that’s your excuse?’
his head shoots up, mouth hung open with absolute disgust all over his face, ‘i am not a sell out.’
which is incredibly refutable, you’d heard a snippet of one of their recent songs on the radio at work and it had sounded exactly like the commercial shit he used to rag on when you were together. not a touch on the corroded coffin you sat and watched practice for hours on end.
‘oh? so you didn’t break up with me to further your career? you just wanted to fuck hot models? which one is it ‘cause i’m a little confused here,’ completely losing it, springing up from your slouched position.
‘okay, yeah.. yeah i did, i broke up with you because i wanted to fuckin’ make something of my life.. and look at where i am and look at-,’
‘-don’t you dare finish that sentence,’ you snap, gritting your teeth together as you near his face, positively shaking with rage.
‘what’re you gonna do? you gonna hit me? do it,’ his chin tilted to match your elevated position, eyes glued to yours.
‘i should.’
his lips twitch into a smirk, ‘you won’t.’
and before your brain has the time to really process your next movements, he balls his fist into your t-shirt, causing your chest to collide into his as his lips smash into yours, knocking the air out of your lungs.
scrambling to find his shoulders for balance, sliding one hand onto his stubbly cheek. it’s all teeth and tongues, he’s ravenous and unrelenting, letting go of his grip on your shirt to place his hands on your hips, ‘move,’ mumbling against your lips as he attempts to manoeuvre you onto his lap while twisting around.
he slides down the couch, keeping a solid hold of your body as you find the right position. your legs are either side of his waist, sliding into the gap between his body and the couch sitting right on his crotch. wasting absolutely zero time in connecting your lips against, honestly not wanting to run the risk of him opening his mouth and ruining this.
his large hands find solace on your ass, creeping up to remove the oversized shirt you’d thrown on. you place your hand above his, restricting him from moving any further. it’s not that you were embarrassed- okay, maybe you were a little. but your body had changed since becoming a mom and eddie had become accustomed to gorgeous models and perfect women that he’d certainly not want to see your boring, frumpy mom body.
he groans in protest, trying again to lift the shirt further only for your fingernails to dig into his hand, ‘no,’ speaking into the filthy kiss.
eddie pulls away from the kiss, fingers coming to gently brush the hair from your face, ‘you can’t be serious? i’ve seen it all before,’ he grumbles, fingers itching to try lift it again.
‘not like this you haven’t.. i just.. want it on, okay?’
‘no- why won’t you let me take this off?’ fingers curling around the hem, already trying his luck with getting it up again.
you sigh, meeting his blown out eyes with your glossy ones, ‘i don’t even know what i’m doing.. fuck,’ attempting to climb off of his lap while the spare hand he has on your ass clamps you down, keeping you pressed to him.
‘hey.. hey, keep it on.. i don’t care,’ already trying to chase your lips, ‘i’m just saying, you don’t need to,’ the denim covering his growing erection starting to rub against your throbbing clit, the sparse material of your pajama shorts were not leaving much to the imagination.
‘jesus christ, just take it off,’ giving up in your protest, it was useless against eddie’s persistence.
you press your lips to his the second your shirt is off, there was no time to judge your body if he couldn’t see it. pulling at his jacket to get it off, the metal buttons digging into your now bare skin.
‘i didn’t.. i didn’t mean.. what i said..’ babbling through the kiss as he shimmies out of the jacket, landing on the floor with a soft thud.
‘shut up,’ you whine, running your hand along the length of his chest until you reach the hem of his black shirt, gripping your fingers around the fabric and lifting it slightly, exposing his midriff, the soft trail of hair ascending the skin.
his head jerks backwards, allowing you to tug the shirt off, finally allowing his eyes to wander to your chest. ‘holy shit,’ he remarks like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. it’s futile for him to pretend that he hadn’t seen some amazing boobs in his time so you scoff, rolling your eyes.
working your hand at his belt buckle, fiddling with the metal until it pops undone. he’s hard already and it makes you groan, brushing your hand over the raised denim. this week seriously must’ve been difficult if he was getting hard so easily over you.
it doesn’t ever occur to you how much of a mistake this was. and even if it did, you didn’t have much time to ponder on it as his hands are grabbing at your breasts, palming them as his lips suck at your jaw and down onto your neck softly. guaranteed to leave a lovely violet mark that the old ladies at work would certainly gasp at.
he’s helping you with his jeans, one hand gripping onto your waist to keep you steady as he lifts his hips from the couch and the other hurriedly yanking them down just enough to reveal his boxers. that’s the next port of call, fingers grabbing at the thin black cotton, pulling them down his thighs as his cock springs into action.
eddie’s lips are still on your neck while you mindlessly wrap your hand around his cock, pumping your fist as you shuffle upwards. his breath hitches in his throat, still peppering sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin.
‘oh god,’ he whines into your collarbone, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your jaw. for a man who had been painted as womaniser in the media, he sure was still just as pathetic as he used to be underneath you.
you’re a little annoyed that it’s you who’s taking control right now. after so many years of disrespect from his end, you think he at least owed it to you to take charge.
your hand grabs onto his shoulder, pulling his face from your neck, ‘be quiet, okay?’ sitting taller to position yourself comfortably, the harsh fabric of the couch grazing your knees.
he nods, sliding his hand up your waist and back to your hip, taking in the sight of you. you wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, but truthfully, you really did miss him sometimes. missed the way his pretty pink lips looked after being glued to yours or the way he gazed at you doing the most mundane tasks.
you cant your hips, sinking down onto his length slowly, biting down onto your bottom lip as his cock fills you to the hilt. his eyelids flicker, fingernails digging into your doughy hips. it’s been a little while since you’d done this so you have to take a second to become accustomed to the slight stretch. it’s good, in the most masochistic way.
your hands cling onto his shoulders, watching his slack jaw, tiny breaths escaping from his mouth as you attempt to move. painstakingly slow at first, knees beginning to shake as you try to remember what you should even be doing. your cheeks flushing, feeling so incredibly embarrassed. the man was fucking models and then you’re here, pitifully trying to ride him. it’s awful, you know it’s awful.
his arm comes to snake around your waist, taking matters into his own hands and flipping the two of you around, your back suddenly pressed into the couch. holy shit. you appreciate the initiative, wrapping your legs around his waist, readjusting your grip on his shoulders.
‘need you a little faster than that darling,’ large hands digging into the couch either side of your head. you’d feel utterly mortified if you weren’t thoroughly enjoying the sight of him looming over you, his hair falling beautifully into your face.
eddie starts slow at first, moving his hips slowly, obviously well versed. your mouth opens but no noise escapes, well aware that you weren’t the only ones in your house. instead you pant softly, desperate for his lips to grace yours again.
it’s not long before he’s quickening his pace, unable to contain himself when you feel so perfect around him. ‘i missed you- fuck, i’ve missed you so much,’ he groans, keeping his voice low despite wanting to start screaming.
you don’t reply, too fucked-out to even think about words. eyes drooping as his cock nudges against the soft spongy spot no one other than him had been able to reach.
the couch creaks beneath you, the old thing unable to keep up with his rutting hips, the top of your head knocking into the arm rest every time his hips collided with yours. your living room had never bore witness to such filth and as quiet as you were trying to be, the sounds are indistinguishable.
having to bite down onto your lip when his thumb meets your clit, legs tightening around his waist with every soft circle he draws around the sensitive bud. eddie was never bad in bed but holy shit, maybe money had done something right for him.
he sits up, soft sighs falling out of his lips as his hand disconnects from your clit, sliding toward your knee and positioning your leg onto his shoulder. your nails press into his forearm, willing yourself to stay quiet even now he’s seemingly trying to kill you.
and through it all, he’s smirking. relishing the way you’re writhing around, trying not to cum when he nudges against that sweet, spongy spot this position allowed.
his thumb finds your clit again, ‘holy shit sweetheart.. you gonna cum?’ grunting softly with every thrust.
you’re positively wrecked beneath him, face pressed into the couch cushion as your stomach flips. panting into the fabric, incoherent ramblings of eddie’s name and a bunch of curse words fill the room.
‘cum for me baby.. shit,’ struggling to keep his own pace as you tighten around him, leg trembling around his neck as your orgasm takes over. pleasure overtaking your limbs as your hips buck instinctively, thankfully muffled by the couch.
‘oh my god,’ you breathe, struggling to see straight when your eyes eventually reopen, gazing up at eddie above, certain he’s about to draw blood from his teeth digging in to his lip.
‘where.. where shall i- shit,’ he squeezes out, feeling his hips begin to stutter, eyes rolling to the back of his head. he’s just about quick enough to pull out, thick ropes of cum paint your thighs. narrowly avoiding the couch.
if you had the energy to get annoyed, you would’ve snapped, but in all honesty, your brain was still reeling and anger was the last thing you felt.
eddie reaches over, ever the gentleman and grabs his shirt to clean his mess. didn’t matter to him obviously, he had more than enough money to buy another.
and there it is. the bitterness filling your body again the second he’s no longer on top of you, or inside of you rather. you attempt to bite it down.
‘you wanna talk now?’ he asks, pulling his boxers back up to a more respectable position.
‘i’m tired eddie,’ and you are, on a school night like tonight you’d have been fast asleep by now.
he sighs, shoulders slumping over. even after you’d just had the most mind-altering sex, you couldn’t speak to him. ‘please,’ pleading with you almost, desperate for one more chance.
maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe the dopamine still pumping through your brain but you concede, pulling your shirt back over your head before motioning for him to speak.
‘i don’t have any excuses, i’m just-,’ he sighs, turning on the couch to face you fully, ‘i’m sorry for hurting you, i was wrong and i know that,’ his eyes are dipped, peering at you from underneath his spindly lashes, ‘why d’you think i’ve avoided this place for so long?’
‘i don’t know? because you’re a pussy? because you’re too scared to face me?’ letting the words rattle off your tongue without much thought.
‘because i’m embarrassed,’ he corrects, without much offence, ‘because i’m ashamed and feel like i owe you more than some dick and a shitty apology.. i just didn’t know how i could ever make it up to you,’ half-moon eyes glossy in the low light.
your heart thumps in your chest, blood echoing through your ears. eddie munson, world renowned rockstar was sat on your couch, apologising for something you should’ve forgotten about a long time ago.
the years of hatred and avoidance come tumbling down in a millisecond. all you’d ever wanted was to hear him say sorry. to admit that he’d fucked you over for a life of fame and now you had it, you weren’t exactly sure what to even do with it.
‘okay.. now what? are you gonna make it up to me? because i want to believe you eddie, i do.. but you can’t just traipse in here and expect me to forgive you like that,’ the tears roll over, sliding down your warm cheeks.
he nods, grabbing onto your hands in a last ditch gesture to show his sincerity, ‘i’m going to.. i-i want to,’ he’s still nodding, bringing his face closer to yours, ‘tell me how, i’ll do anything,’ adam’s apple bobbing with every word.
‘stay here,’ your eyes are trained on him, ignoring the blurred vision, ‘not forever, just for now,’ lips pursed, ready to be broken once more.
you half-expect him to come out with some sorry excuse, tell you he had to get back to his hotel so he couldn’t possible stay here.
but he doesn’t.
eddie takes your hand, tugging it gently and with words you don’t register, babbles something about bed. so you follow him, allowing him to guide you to your room and slide in between the sheets next to you.
everything is so gentle, soft and pure. something you hadn’t felt in a long time.
-
‘hey.. sweetheart,’ eddie’s hand gently shakes your arm, whispering into your ear, ‘you awake?’
you squint in the dim light, feeling his hand descend onto your waist, chest pressed against your back, ‘i am now,’ you grumble, it was early.. early even by ella’s standards.
‘i gotta go.. you got work today?’ he asks, making no effort to actually get up and leave your bed though.
you nod into the pillow, rubbing your sleep heavy eyes. in your sleep hazed state, you shuffle, moving backwards against him.
‘okay.. shit- don’t do that,’ strained as you shift against him, unknowingly brushing against his cock, ‘i’ll be back.. after you..’ he’s losing it a little now, ‘after you finish..’ lips pressed to your ear.
you were moving deliberately now, just ever-so-slightly rocking your hips back and forth, you could feel him growing against your ass.
‘i can’t..’ he groans, grip tightening on your hip,
‘please,’ you breathe, reaching backwards to find his mop of curls, taking a fistful for leverage as his own hip’s thrust into your backside, his low growls only spurring you on.
you had been on your own for so long now, could he really blame you?
eddie doesn’t leave for another hour, creeping out of your house with his head low and a shit eating grin plastered on his face.
-
the key turns in your door as you’re loading the dishwasher. you’d given steve a spare for emergencies but it seemed to get used for anything but.
he slinks into the kitchen where you stand with your back to him, ‘hey,’ already knowing who it was.
‘well hello,’ announcing his presence, something about his tone of voice already seemed off, he sounded short, annoyed almost, ‘how have you been?’
‘i’m good..’ you spin to face him, puzzled by his strange demeanour, ‘how are you?’
he’s holding onto something behind his back but you can’t quite catch a glimpse, ‘actually.. i’m a little pissed off,’ you can tell he’s not completely serious by the hint of a smile on his face.
‘hmm? why’s that?’
he looks around the room expectedly, ‘oh i don’t know.. you don’t have anything to tell me, do you?’ shaking his head, still gripping onto this mystery object.
‘no..’ narrowing your eyes, determining whether he knew what you thought he knew.
he did, he one hundred percent did. holy fuck. he’d figured you out already. eddie had opened his big, stupid mouth and told dustin, who would’ve told steve and god knows who else. fucking moron.
‘no? soo..’ his pulls the magazine from behind his back, flipping it to the page he’d already saved, ‘this isn’t real then?’ shoving the glossy pages into your face, ‘because to me.. this looks an awful lot like eddie.. at this very house,’ he jabs his finger at the pixelated image, ‘and this little blob here.. that’s you, no?’
you’re utterly gobsmacked. mouth hung open in pure shock. because that most definitely was eddie.. and your house.. and you. you hadn’t seen anyone with a camera, hell, you hadn’t seen anyone on the street at all.
‘and correct me if i’m wrong, but is this not our friend eddie leaving your house the next morning?’ showing the next image of him leaving your house the day after, hair unruly and messed up, holding his denim jacket in his arms as he climbs into his car.
your mouth moves but no words come out, croaking as you struggle to meet steve’s eyes. completely speechless, there was no feasible excuse. you had been caught with your pants down. literally.
‘i can explain,’ waving your hands around while steve stands smug against the kitchen counter. ‘..no i can’t,’ shoulders slumped as you blink at your best friend, no you really couldn’t. suppose you could’ve come up with some lie about a look-a-like you’d been seeing but that would’ve made you look particularly strange.
‘were you ever gonna tell me?’ he’s almost hurt that you hadn’t ran to him to tell him immediately. this was true best friend gossip and you’d kept him from it.
‘i was! steve.. i don’t even know what happened- he came over to apologise and then we were arguing and then.. then we had sex and it’s not my fault..’ you’re trying, and failing, to contain your smile, flashing your cheeky grin to your best friend in the hopes he would let this slide.
‘i can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ jutting his bottom lip out, ‘so, you’re getting back together?’ his eyes sceptical yet sparkling with a sense of hope. you’re grateful that all he seems to care about is the fact you lied. or actually, withheld the truth as you preferred it.
‘no.. well.. no, we had dinner together yesterday and he might’ve stayed over but no..’ shaking your head, ‘he’s leaving again soon and we both know what happened last time..’ you shrug, leaning back against the counter, ‘i guess i don’t hate him now, that’s good isn’t it?’
steve looks perplexed, ‘wait wait wait.. so you’re just.. screwing around? and then he leaves again, that’s it? what’s the point?’ taking a seat at the small kitchen table, fully engrossed in the conversation.
‘i dunno.. i guess that’s it?’ you hadn’t really thought about the fact that he’d be leaving again, in fact, you hadn’t really had time to think much at all about what was happening.
you’d just sort of acknowledged that at some point he’d go back to california and you’d stay here and whatever was happening would.. end? it wasn’t as if you were going to be super upset about it like you once were. lots of people fuck their ex’s.. this was fine.
because that’s what this is, right?
just sex with an ex?
‘that’s it?’ steve reiterates, looking completely flabbergasted that the woman who once left the room whenever eddie munson’s name was mentioned was now being so casual about this.
‘yeah,’ you shrug, not wanting to make a massive deal out of it though you could always rely on steve to be over dramatic on your behalf.
‘no,’ he straightens up in the chair, ‘all of this can’t be for nothing,’ sounding utterly exasperated, ‘you two obviously belong together so why don’t you go for it? i could see you living it up out in la.. big house, big car-,’
you cut him off before he can divulge into his delusions any further, ‘i think you’re getting ahead of yourself steve,’ shaking your head at his ludicrous attitude.
you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it once or twice but it seemed silly to start imagining this crazy life together after all these years. he’d barely just made it into your good graces again, you were hardly going to run off to california with him. it was utter delusion.
‘okay okay..’ he scoffs, ‘but i still think you need to talk to him. i don’t want you getting hurt again, okay? just make sure that you’re both on the same page,’ nodding as he stands from his seat and begins to rummage through your cupboards for something to eat.
he was probably right and you knew it deep down. you weren’t keen on being the one to bring the conversation up, not after that first night. after you had sobbed in his arms in bed, letting him soothe you to sleep with a bunch of probable empty promises.
-
when eddie lets himself into your house a few hours later, steve’s eyebrows fly up his forehead but he doesn’t say a word. instead, he nods at the man, keeping his opinions to himself.
the pair of you resemble an old married couple, except you’re the grumpy old man with your wife cuddled into your side. your wife being steve that is.
‘oh.. is this uh, something that happens often?’ eddie asks, settling into the empty chair across from you. slightly miffed that steve was nestled into your side.
‘yup,’ you nod, smiling at him your chin resting on steve’s head. he hadn’t a reason to be jealous, you’d really rather poke your eyeballs out with a fork than do anything remotely sexual with steve.
‘right.. yeah okay,’ eddie says, looking perplexed but sitting back in the chair. if he was going to stick around then this would have to be something that he got used to. because you sure as hell weren’t going to stop being so close with steve for the guy that broke your heart at eighteen.
‘you want a drink?’ you ask, realising that you should probably be a good host even if it was only eddie.
‘yeah sure.’
you untangle yourself from steve and trundle off into the kitchen. steve takes this as the perfect opportunity to grill eddie on his intentions, sitting up straight and making sure that you were really gone before beginning his interrogation.
‘so.. you two?’
eddie shrugs, not wanting to get into it with steve after such a long day.
steve sighs, leaning toward eddie, ‘i’m gonna say this once.. but if you hurt her again, i will kill you,’ staring the other man down. contempt in his eyes. he was dead serious too.
‘i’m not- i’m not gonna hurt her,’ eddie sits up, praying that you’d hurry back with this damn drink.
‘i mean it eddie,’ raising his eyebrows, ‘you didn’t see how she was after you left.. i’m not going through that again, i’m not letting her go through that again.’
‘steve-,’ eddie blinks, stopping himself as you re-enter the room. hoping that you hadn’t heard their conversation, he’d only just got you to stop hating him. he wasn’t prepared to go back to that like, ever.
‘what’re you talking about?’ placing the bottle of beer in front of eddie and collapsing back into your spot on the couch.
‘football,’ steve answers quickly, groaning as he pushes himself off of the sofa, ‘i’m gonna head home, got work in the morning but i’ll see you tomorrow,’ he smiles, winking at you from above.
‘okay,’ you utter, sounding more like a question than a statement, watching carefully as he gathers his things without so much as a glance at eddie. you can only imagine what was actually said but that was truly none of your business.
you’d just grill eddie later to make sure steve hasn’t been too much of an asshole.
‘byee,’ you call out behind him, already eyeing a sheepish eddie. this’d probably be it. you’d known it was coming at some point, you just weren’t sure of when.
if steve’s sudden departure was anything to go off, you were probably right.
the door clicks shut and you turn your attention to eddie who was still sat on the solemn chair. oh god. maybe you had got a little used to having him around again and now to know that it’d all be coming to an abrupt end once again.. yeah you felt a tad shit.
‘what’d you say?’ you ask outright, it made zero sense to beat around the bush.
‘me?’ he looks almost offended, ‘i didn’t say shit.. didn’t get the chance to,’ but he’s smiling ever so slightly and your heart relaxes.
christ you were so stupid. letting him back into your life just to let him walk away a second time. perhaps you’d done something horrific in a past life to deserve this same fate twice.
‘so what did he say?’ you press, unsure of if your even wanted the answer.
eddie sighs before coming to collapse on the couch next to you, ‘it wasn’t important.. look, i wanna be honest with you,’ his hand comes to grab yours and you freeze, bracing yourself for what was inevitably going to come next. ‘you mean a lot to me and.. and i don’t want you to think that i don’t care or that i’m just leaving you again,’ his eyes are focussed on yours, full of what you hope is sincerity.
you don’t reply, instead you nod slightly and urge him to continue. this was it. the kicker. 
‘i’ve gotta go back to la next week,’ his grip tightens around your hand, ‘but i’m coming back as soon as i can, okay?’ he’s serious too and you’d like to believe him but if the past was anything to go by, you weren’t eager.
you nod silently. fuck this. once again, you were sat before eddie munson, listening to his plans to jet off to la. it felt like the cruelest case of deja-vu. if anything, you want to kick yourself for even allowing him to wiggle his way back into your heart. most people know better after the first time.
‘it’s three weeks.. maybe a month, but i’m coming back, i promise,’ he pleads, hanging his head low. he knows there’s absolutely nothing he could say to you that would make you believe him but he had to try.
you hum, frowning just a little before finally replying, ‘i’ve heard that before,’ not meaning to sound as snarky as you did, but it was true.
‘i’m serious, i’m not.. not gonna lose you again, i’ve learnt my lesson,’ his eyes are big and pleading and you’re thrown right back to being eighteen, listening to him convince you how going to la would be the best decision.
‘so.. what? you’re gonna come back to hawkins just to see me? i don’t-,’ you sigh, as much as you wanted to believe him, it just wasn’t plausible in your mind, ‘i just don’t understand, are we together or are you just coming back to fuck? you don’t have to, you know? i’ve made peace with it all and i’m fine.. you don’t have to lie to me anymore.’
if anyone was going to fuck this up, it would be you. that’s for certain.
‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, genuinely flabbergasted, ‘this is me telling you that i’m serious about this.. about you,’ he takes your hand into his properly, scooting around to face you fully, ‘i love being here with you, and ella and there is nothing out in la worth more than this,’ you think he might just start crying, or you might. or perhaps both of you.
you sniff, not wanting to speak in fear of bursting into hysterics. it was all just so confusing and weird. you’d grown accustomed to eddie being on the other side of the country and now suddenly he was back in your life with what seemed like a a declaration of love. it was just too much to handle. and maybe you blame yourself a little, for not truly thinking about the implications of fucking your ex that had abandoned you years prior. but now it all just seemed to be hurtling in the most intense direction.
you were the one that had told him to stay after all. because really, you could’ve kicked him out, refused to ever even acknowledge him again. but you hadn’t.
‘are you telling me the truth?’ is all that you manage to squeak out. baring resemblance to a small child.
you really must’ve looked pathetic, eyes brimming with tears, bottom lip quivering as you hold in the implosion of emotions. it’s always scary being vulnerable with someone, let alone someone that once meant so much to you.
he still did. as much as you’re absolutely petrified to admit it, he’d weaselled his way back into your heart and now here you are, a mess of emotions and perplexing feelings that are too complicated to handle.
‘i promise you,’ he sighs, clearly fed up of your whining, ‘i’m coming back this time.’
and maybe you’re stupid. maybe you’re still hung up on some high school relationship that ended long ago but you can’t help it, you nod.
idiotically believing him because what else can you do after letting him into your home and your heart again.
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blkgirl-writing · 4 months
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The massive list of SFW and NSFW Gale Dekarios headcanons
Gale of Waterdeep x Reader (Gn! for the most part)
A/N: the more I write Gale, the more in love with him I am. I started this before patch 5 and haven't been able to play it myself, so whoopsies if I just have to make another one of these. Lots of requests included in this one, to be expanded on later!
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Gale is the most caring partner in the whole group. Followed by karlach and Wyll
He would much rather do everything for you than anything for him
This means he often over extends himself for you and you have to convince him to let you help him
Quality time and words of affirmation are his main love languages. All he wants is time alone with you, and he will do so much to make that happen
Gale actually sets up his tent to be as comfortable as possible because you don't have your own tent, and he doesn't mind at all if you sleep in his
eventually you basically just sleep in his tent exclusively, platonically at the moment. Sleeping on other sides or with a blanket between you
It isn't until you wake up from a particularly bad nightmare that your accidental touches aren't followed by apologies. Not quite embracing but not flinching away
He held you that night, wrapping his arms around you, his hands were big, soft, and comforting. He didn't speak until you did, who knows how long that was. All he said was "You're safe. It's ok."
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He truly believes he doesn’t deserve you and that weighs kind of heavy on him
That shows in his body movements, confidence, still hesitant to be close to you physically in an extremely subtle way
With more flirting, more talking, more late nights close together, but still apart, still a gap in your embrace
Gale is still in touch with his sexuality and sex, but sex is different than love making. And he knew, when he fully let you in, when he’s finally stable and his mind, body, and soul were ready, he’d make love to you
Your first time together was for the most part, pretty talked through. You set your boundaries and safe word pretty fast
He’d stop at some point, pull back and just admire you
Stop is used lightly because he’s definitely still inside you and just very slowly still pumping in and out of you
“You’re absolutely ravishing.”
And he’d give himself fully to you
Gods he’d be all over you after, so touchy, even if not sexual in nature, any tough felt electric
Gale holds your waist more than your hand, it feels more romantic, showing you off to the world as someone that chose him. It’s really sweet, the first time he does it, he hand trembled a bit, he thought he was smooth enough for you not to tell but you could definitely feel it
Don’t get me wrong, he is confident and cocky at times, everyone knows that. But with you somehow, he feels nervous that you deserve more than he could give
Part of your early relationship is making sure he knows he’s wanted and loved and more than anything you could have wished for
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Cuddling is always fun because it usually end up with fucking
If you’re the big spoon? He becomes such an angel and snuggles into your touch
If he’s big spoon he’s immediately turned on by everything, you being so close into him, your ass pressed against him, so many beautiful places for him to touch
Always ends in side fucking, just pulling your underwear down just enough to grind his cock on your bare ass
It’s also just convenient and easy if you’re getting busy while the others are sleeping in camp
But many days your time has you weak and just ready for rest, but you're both more horny than tired
that's when mutual masturbation becomes a daily routine, which never really leaves, even when you aren't as tired and have more privacy
he likes you call you his cherished work of art, seeing you spread for him is like a painting
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One night in baldurs gate, you stay up into the morning drinking and talking in a bar, they only kicked you out when they literally were an hour last close, keeping it open because you had bought so much
It was literally anything, just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Past pets, stupid haircuts growing up, embarrassing failures
That was the night everyone else really realized how deeply in love you two were
Like sure there was romance but real true love, with sparks
They absolutely made fun of you when you finally stumbled to your camp and passed out all day crammed into the small one person beds
I like to believe Astarion drew a stick figure version of y’all’s sleeping position to make fun of you when you woke
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Once you’ve moved in with him he gets more and more turned on by you every day
You could be doing nothing and he’d grab your thigh and give you such a dirty look of lust
Not even three months in and ya'll have fucked on every surface possible, knocked over many books, and accidentally broke a vase and a bit in the shower
For the most part, your cozy days consist of him reading, and you beside him, feet resting on his lap
If you're a bard, of course he's going to ask you to practice and play around him and while you relax together, his favorite sounds all come from your sweet melodies
if you drink you definitely share a bottle of wine throughout the day
When Gale get's tipsy he just gets lovey and nerdy
telling you about a favorite bit of history or a spell, interrupting himself to compliment you "Gods you're beautiful, have I told you that today, dear?" and "And that's how the stars fell in love with- that top is stunning my love, mind if I take it off?"
cooking is fun yet very stressful unless he has a drink in hand
it's his kitchen and he's not used to company in it, so he often bumps into you or doesn't know where to say something is, so he just ends up getting it for you
I have a feeling this man is super into coffee and the roasts
like he's an absolute snob over it. A whole glass cupboard is dedicated to bags of coffee from where ever he travels
"Just too dark of a roast, it muddies the hazelnut flavor" (yes I believe he's a whole bean light roast lover)
Maybe you get a normal, non-speaking cat for yourself and just to have a bigger family in your home
I'd imagine a very reckless black or ginger cat who tara takes a VERY long time to love
but it's your and Gales cat. It's a thing you own together and love dearly
There's also a self of cards, board games, etc, for your date nights in
Gale legitimately is just as happy if you win than if he, if not more happy for you
He often takes a while to take his turn because he's distracted by you
super sweet but makes games feel much longer
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@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen
(Consider supporting me on Ko-fi)
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angelltheninth · 4 months
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Romance Tropes with Honkai Star Rail Men
Pairing: Argentii, Blade, Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Welt x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, arranged marriage, kissing, cuddles, not so secret relationship, co-workers, falling in love, teasing, protectiveness
A/N: Bit more Honkai thrown your way.
ARGENTI + MARRIAGE BEFORE ROMANCE
He married you because it was easier to keep an eye on you that way, simple as that. At least it was simple before actual feelings came into play for the both of you. Argenti could tell by your increasing clinginess and insistence for cuddles when you sleep together that something was changing, he didn't tell you no to any of it, he relished in those small moments of intimacy, he began kissing your hand more often before departure, and soon your lips followed.
BLADE + BULLY TURNED NICE
Blade didn't exactly give you an easy time when you started working together. Got a lot of personal enjoyment whenever you'd storm off after his teasing and poking. It was too easy to get to you. But he never meant to make you cry or want to quit, he really didn't. If you were gonna be his teammate you needed to toughen up, who better to teach you that than him. He can tone in down but he will require some more one-on-one time in return.
DAN HENG + WORK COLLEGUES
You can easily develop a routine with Dan Heng, he's probably one of the easiest people to get along with, and fall for. Always grateful for your respect of his boundaries. He's happy to let you show him some of your interests in return. Opening up is hard for him so you taking those first steps means a whole lot to him. Not the touchiest of people but when he does hold your hand it means he's really starting to like you. It will take him a while to confess though.
GEPARD + EVERYONE CAN SEE IT
The worst kept secret, your romantic relationship with Gepard. He may act like he's being subtle but everyone can tell the man is head over heels in love with you. Subtilty is not his strong side, his eyes linger on you way too much for it to be just adoration and he's been seen running back home from the street your house is located at way too many times for everyone not to know you're together. But you let him think it's still a secret because he's adorable.
JING YUAN + OFFICE ROMANCE
A romance that should have never been. The one where at the end of every shift you end up in Jing Yuan's lap kissing him, leaving little marks on his neck and almost purring at his touch. If anyone were to discover you... well he is the boss so you wouldn't get fired but you would be the subject of much gossip that's for sure. How did it end up like this when all it started with was you bringing him lunch when he skipped meals? Because he's really charming.
LUOCHA + THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY
Your romance with Luocha is always short lived, limited to the time he spends in your town before he moves on to the next one. There are absolutely times where you want to be selfish and confess your feelings but you know that would tie him down to you and you also know there are people who need his help. So it's better that neither of you address these feelings for the time being. Maybe sometime in the future but not yet.
WELT + SWORN OFF RELATIONSHIPS
Welt never planned to enter a long term relationship with you. Keeping it to small kisses and taking all your flirting while you were together was supposed to be the end of it. Why was his heart so weak for you then? Why was he so weak for every smile and kiss? He knew why, he was falling in love with you. All those times you stayed over and cuddled with him until morning, you managed to sneak your way into his heart when he thought he'd closed it off.
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honnelander · 6 months
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busgirl
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once again i got carried away and wrote way more than i planned too lol thank you to the lovely anon who requested this and i hope i did your prompt justice request: what if the reader’s a merchant’s daughter who was supposed to marry a suitor but she runs away and ends up meeting sanji
WARNINGS: none
word count: 3.4k
pairing: opla!sanji x fem!reader
summary: reader is arranged to be married but she won't stand for it. so what does she do? she runs away and meets one particular chef, begging him for help
masterlist
taglist: @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @smolracoon25 @mischiefmanaged71 @amanda08319
You never imagined your life turning out like this: still living with your father at this grown age, never having gone beyond your small island town ever in your life, and waking up every day just to relive the same day over and over again. It was torture.
Every single day of your life has been the same since you left school: you woke up before the sun rose, made breakfast for you and your father, helped prepare the wagon for its daily trip into town, then spend all day yelling in the town's square trying to sell any shoes you could (your father was a shoe merchant), pack up the unsold product at the end of the day, head home, make dinner, then go to bed soon after cleaning up just so you could wake up and do the same things all over again. You hated it.
But what could you really do to change anything? You were born to a poor shoe merchant and ever since your mother had died, things had become even tighter for your small family, of now, two.
Your father never had much, barely a penny to his name, so that meant you also had no money to your name either. Sure, you could've started a side hustle of scams and cons, maybe trying your luck at playing poker at the docks whenever pirates showed up, but how could you just leave your father like that? Just leave him all alone once you scraped together enough berry to buy a one-way ticket out of this town? As much as you were tempted, you couldn't. It didn't feel right. And besides, you were always too exhausted at the end of the day to do anything else anyway.
But then one day, your father said something that would change your life forever.
The day started out like any other. You had cooked a quick meal of toast and eggs for yourselves and once you finished your plate, you moved to get up to put the dishes in the sink for later.
But before you could get out of your seat, your dad grabbed your wrist gently, telling you to stay seated. "Actually, y/n, no need to rush this morning. We're not going into town today."
"What?" You were taken aback. You couldn't remember a day where you both didn't do this daily routine. "Why?"
Your father couldn't look at you in the eye. Instead, he kept his focus on his half-eaten breakfast, which was also weird. He normally finished eating before you. "Y/n...you know I wouldn't do this unless I had no other choice," he started.
You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach. What was happening?
"But business has been really slow lately, and I tried to hold this off for as long as I could," he continued.
"Hold what off?"
He kept talking like you hadn't said anything. "But there really was no other choice." He swallowed and finally looked up and the look in his eyes scared you. You've never seen your father look that upset before...the only other time he had looked like that had been when mom died.
You tried to swallow but your mouth was dry. "Dad, what's going on?"
"And you know I always will love you, right?"
"Dad," you said a little more sternly, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute. "What is happening?" After a moment of silence, you repeated yourself. "Dad, answer me."
His next sentence hit you like a ton of bricks. "Y/n, I arranged for you to be married."
You couldn't move. "What?" you breathed.
Like always, your father continued on like you hadn't said a word. "He's a nice man, a decent man. His name is Olaf and he's from the North Blue, comes from money..."
You felt your dad tighten his grip on your wrist and suddenly you felt like you were being suffocated. You ripped your hand away from your dad's grip, the sting of betrayal hurting more than any cut or wound ever could. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you fought your hardest not to let them fall. "You sold me?" your voice quivered.
Those three words finally got your dad's attention. He looked into your eyes again, hurt evident in his gaze, but you realized you didn't care. Not anymore. "No," he replied firmly. "You know I would never sell you to anyone. I would never do that."
A humorous laugh escaped your lips. "Oh? But you'd put me in an arranged marriage instead? For money?" When you blinked, tears fell down your cheeks. "Are we really that poor dad?" you spat.
"Y/n-"
"Why didn't you tell me how bad off we were before? Before-" you stuttered and waved your arms around, "before all of this? I could've- I could've done something, anything." You ran a hand through your hair as you exhaled, a sardonic smile appearing on your face as you looked up to the ceiling, up to whatever God had subjected you to this cruel fate.
"There's nothing you could've done, y/n."
"You don't know that!" you exclaimed. Pure hot red rage adorning your features as your furious eyes snapped down to look at your dad. "I could've hustled, I could've conned the guys down at the dock for some money. I could've done something instead of nothing!"
"And then what? End up dead in a dark alley once those men found out you stole money from them? End up raped?" Your dad's anger matched yours, his voice growing louder with each sentence. "Maybe become a pirate? There is no way I would ever let that happen to you y/n."
Your dad hated pirates and you knew he would rather die before he ever let you become one.
You flung your arms up in exasperation. rolling your eyes as you let out a frustrated groan. "Oh I don't know dad," you yelled, "maybe I could've joined the Marines or something!"
But your dad didn't like the Marines either. He believed pirates and Marines were the same person, just in different clothes.
"I wouldn't let you do that either, you know that y/n."
Suddenly, a thought stuck you: you were an adult, so why was your father still making all of these major life decisions for you? It didn't make sense.
But you knew one thing: you certainly weren't going to marry some rich guy you didn't know from the North Blue. Not if you were still living and breathing.
You glanced at the open window behind your dad, seeing the early morning tinges of a sunrise lighting up the sky. Perfect, you thought. Docked ships normally didn't leave port until the sun broke the horizon, so you had a chance to hop aboard any ship that would take you far far away from here. Away from your miserable life and a father you were realizing you hated.
The sky started becoming brighter by the minute and your heart rate started to spike. You estimated you had around 20 minutes or so until the sunrise broke and if you were serious about running away, it was now or never.
Suddenly, you stood up from the kitchen table and realized that your father had stopped whatever he was saying to look at you with a curious expression.
"Y/n?"
"Y-you know what dad?" your voice shook and you swallowed your nerves. "I...I think you're right? This Olaf guy probably isn't that bad and would probably give me a better life than I ever could," you ground out and forced a smile that you were sure looked more like a grimace. "I'll do it."
If today had been a normal day, your dad would've been tipped off that something was up but he was just so relieved that you were actually agreeing to all this.
Your dad had a relieved smile on his face as he said, "That makes me so happy to hear that y/n. You have no idea."
"Y-yeah, me too," you agreed with a small nod. You reached down to pick up your plates but your hands were shaking.
Your father placed a hand on your arm. "I understand you're nervous sweetheart. Why don't you go lie down in your room? There's some time until Olaf gets here. I can handle the dishes for today."
Perfect. You agreed and nodded quickly. Thanking your dad and giving him one last look before you went up to your room and never saw him again.
--------- -----
Your lungs were burning as you ran towards the docks. You could feel sweat running down your back as you pushed yourself to run as fast as you could, arms pumping and feet kicking out dirt behind you.
The sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade of orange and a ping of fear gripped your heart.
What if you didn't make it? What if all the ships were all boarded up and ready to set sail by the time you got there? It wasn't uncommon for ships to leave a tad early since most of them had a full day at sea before them but you were so close, you just had to make it. There were probably around five minutes or so until you reached the docks and you just had to get over this ridiculous hill.
But your legs were tired and your sides were cramping and you could feel yourself slowing down due to exhaustion. You weren't a huge runner to begin with but you were literally running for your life- so what choice did you have?
If you made it through all this, you vowed to yourself that you would get better at running. Who knew the next time your life would depend on it?
As you reached the top of the hill, you took a quick second to breathe and survey the docks before you but what you saw nearly stopped your heart. There were normally a dozen or so ships that littered these docks but it looked like most of them had headed out early with only a few ships remaining, and the ones that were left? They looked like they were nearly ready to leave port as well.
With newfound urgency, you sprinted down the hill, yelling out to any sailor who would listen to your plea.
"WAIT!" you screamed. "Wait for me!"
But no one acknowledged you. You started to wave your arms around, your travel bag bouncing around as you continued to sprint.
"PLEASE! I beg you!"
As you got closer, you could start to make out the names of the few ships that were there. There was one ship called "The Happy Farewell" and you figured since they were closest you would try them first.
"Get lost girl," the ship's captain sneered. "I got no use for a girl like you."
"But please, I need to leave. You don't understand," you begged.
The captain clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "Don't we all?" he muttered. But he spared you one last glance before boarding his ship and something in your expression must've been wildly desperate because he sighed before nodding towards the ship two docks down. "Zeff's."
"What?"
"Go to Zeff's ship, girl. The Baratie. He doesn't have the heart to turn away desperate souls like yourself."
Your head whipped towards the direction the captain was looking and you saw the decent-sized Baratie standing there.
"But you better hurry," he warned. "They're setting sail as soon as we leave."
You quickly looked back at the captain to thank him but he was already walking up the plank to board his ship, barking out orders to let down the sails and hoist up the anchor.
Shit. You had to hurry.
You sprinted two docks over and once you reached the dock The Baratie was tied to, you saw a couple of men in white coats loading up the last of the crates of food onboard. You had just made it.
It was weird to you that these pirates were dressed up in matching white coats and blue bandanas around their collar but, hey, it could always be worse and you weren't in a position to be picky. You would even join a circus crew at this point.
You made your way over to the closest "pirate", a tall blonde guy that had hair almost covering his left eye. He was inspecting one of the crates, clipboard in hand and checked things off as he examined it.
"Excuse me," you huffed, trying to get this man's attention. "But I need your help. I need to speak to the ship's captain."
"Don't we all," the guy replied with a good-humored laugh and crooked smile, not looking up from his clipboard.
"Please," you urged. "It's important."
The man looked up from his clipboard and did a double-take, clearly not expecting a young woman like yourself, who looked like they just ran away from demons, asking to speak to the captain this early in the morning.
His eyebrows rose as he looked you over, his smile disappearing. "Are you alright Madam? Is something the matter?"
As his eyes scanned you over, you noticed how good-looking this guy was. And here you were, all sweaty and disheveled, your hair probably sticking out in all different directions. You prayed to whatever God was out there that you didn't have sweat stains on your shirt.
What a day this was turning out to be.
You ran your hands over your hair, trying to smooth down your flyaways and hoping you looked a bit more presentable. "I will be alright, when I speak to the captain."
"Anything I can help you with?"
What the- was this guy hitting on you? Your wandering eyes snapped back to look at this man when he asked that, looking to see if he really had the audacity to hit on you while you were begging for help, but you saw no trace of flirtation whatsoever, just concern.
"Ah- no. Unless you have the power to give me a spot on this crew."
The man's eyes lit up (you noticed they were blue). "Ah, so you want to join the Baratie? Become a chef yourself?"
You looked at him in utter confusion, blinking a couple times to make sure you heard him right. "Huh? A chef?" You looked at his outfit a little more closely and turned to examine the other men who were dressed similarly. You didn't notice it before, but they weren't just wearing any white coat, they were wearing a chef's white coat. "You guys are chefs?" you asked dumbly.
The chef, as you now noticed, rubbed his jaw as he tried to hide his smile at your obvious question. "Yes, Madam. We're chefs."
"So you're a pirate chef?"
The blonde cook couldn't hide his laugh at your series of questions, his blue eyes sparkling and white teeth showing like he had just heard the funniest joke. "No, Madam. We're just chefs. Not pirates or pirate chefs."
You felt stupid and felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Oh." But if they were all chefs on this boat, did that mean... "Wait- do I have to be a chef in order to get on this boat?"
"Ah well, if it were up to me," he sighed, "I would give you a spot on the ship regardless if you could cook or not." He twirled the pencil between his fingers as he crossed his arm in thought. "Although, we do need some new waiters. The dining room always seems to be short-staffed..."
You opened your mouth to quickly volunteer yourself even though you never waited tables a day in your life but the blonde chef kept talking.
"Or," he thought out loud," if you really wanted to be a chef with no experience, there are ways you could get into the kitchen. We do need a new busboy. Or girl," he quickly corrected. "Move your way up and learn..."
The sun broke the horizon, the morning orange light now fading into yellow. You swallowed. You were out of time. If you couldn't get a spot on this ship then your life was over.
"I'll do it," you quickly interrupted and nodded. "I'll- I'll do anything. A chef, a waiter, a busboy or busgirl- anything. I'll even clean toilets if I have to. I just- I need to get on this ship."
Your desperate plea silenced the chef, pulling him out of his musings and you could see concern wash over his features. But before he could say anything else, a voice called out from the top of the ship's plank.
"Oi! Sanji! What the hell are you doing down there, son?" the man with a tall chef's hat and braided mustache called out. As he made his way down to the dock, you noticed one of his legs was a wooden peg instead. "The sun's broken the horizon. I don't know how many times I need to tell you this, but next time we pull out of port late, I'm shoving my leg up your ass and you're off the line for a week."
Sanji shook his head, for once not caring about the threat of not cooking, and looked at his father figure, nodding to you. "Zeff, you need to speak to this girl. You have to let her join our crew."
You watched as Zeff followed Sanji's nod and looked down at you with raised eyebrows. It was like he just noticed you were there. "Her? For the last time Sanji, I'm not letting one of your one-night stands join the crew," he said with an exasperated sigh and turned back towards the ship. "Pretty or not."
"Wait!" you called out, grabbing Zeff's arm and immediately dropping it when he turned to look at you in disbelief. "I, I don't know him," you quickly said, pointing at Sanji and taking a big step away from him to prove your point, "My name is y/n and I desperately need a spot on your ship, Sir. Please."
Zeff studied you for a moment, eyes scanning your face. "People like you normally aren't 'desperate' to join my crew."
"But I am, Sir. I," you inhaled a shaky breath at the thought that this man could also turn you away. "I can't stay here. I need to leave. I'll do anything. I can even scrub the toilets."
Zeff regarded you with a short sigh. "Lass, there's no way I would have you scrubbing toilets. I'd make him do that way before asking you," he said and jabbed a thumb at Sanji, silencing Sanji's scoff of disbelief with a look. His face became serious as he asked, "You're serious aren't you?"
You nodded. "As serious as I can be sir."
The head chef became quiet, looking at you like he was trying to figure out what you were running away from, but it wasn't any of his business. At the end of the day, everyone had a past and he wasn't there to judge.
"Alright, lass, you want a position at my restaurant that badly? You got it. Your first service as a busboy- girl, whatever- starts tonight." He pointed a finger at you and with a stern voice asked, "Everyone on this ship earns their keep, alright? And no talking back. Understood?"
Relief flooded your veins at his words, you couldn't control the smile that stretched your cheeks as you nodded. "Yes, chef."
The corner of Zeff's mouth twitched upwards in amusement and he nodded once. "Good." As he turned around to head back onto the ship, he glanced at Sanji. "I like this girl. Wherever you found her...good job, son." He started walking back up the plank onto the ship and called out, "Get those last few crates up on here, boy. We got to leave, we have a dinner service tonight!"
You frowned as you watched Zeff walk away, a little annoyed at the thought that 'Sanji found you' instead of you finding him. When you looked over at Sanji, you saw him still watching Zeff make his way up the plank, beaming slightly at the head chef's praise.
"You didn't find me. I found you," you said to your newest crewmember.
Sanji looked over at you, a small mischievous smile on his face. "And aren't you glad you did?"
Before you could correct him or slap him, you heard Zeff calling out to you from the ship's deck. "Oi! Y/n! What are you doing down there? I'm not paying you to just stand there all day with Sanji! There's a pile of dirty dishes with your name on them in the sink."
"What? Already?" you grumbled as made your way up the plank to board the ship.
From behind you, you could hear Sanji's laughter and you could hear it until you made your way inside.
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starsstuddedsky · 6 months
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Persimmon Problems
jaemin x reader
summary: fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and he’s really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?
genre: fluff, angst, university au, non idol au, he’s not a frat boy but he’s basically a frat boy, inaccurate depictions of student council, I don’t actually know what this is
warnings: swearing, drinking, implied sex (it’s pg-13), lmk if I missed any
wc: 18.3k (oops)
a/n: ahahaha remember that jaemin dream… yeah. anyways so I’ve looked at this for so long that I don’t even know what this is anymore, all I know is that I can’t keep working on it. also I still don't know what a persimmon tastes like so.. yeah. I really wanted to try one but if this stays in my drafts any longer I will go insane. I hope you all enjoy!!!! as always I'd love to hear what you think :)
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You’ve never had persimmon before but you think maybe it’s the best word to describe Na Jaemin. He is a persimmon in your palm, an unknown flavor to be discovered if you dare to bite. It doesn’t help that he chose to wear orange today, the sweater a shade away from pink. 
There’s a pinch at your side. “You’re staring again.” 
You glare at Renjun, who doesn’t bother to look up from his laptop, working on the graphic for the student council. “Was not.” 
“Whatever,” he says. “Just don’t let the pretty boy distract you from paying attention because I needed to finish this yesterday.”
“The only one distracting me is you, and you aren’t pretty.” You pretend his silence is agreement instead of him trying to force you to take notes as Professor Bae closes up the lecture. 
It’s not that you can’t focus around Na Jaemin–your perfect notes at the end of class prove just the opposite. Jaemin simply exists in another world. There is your corner, mostly filled with student council responsibilities and never ending university work, and there is Na Jaemin, honorary member of every frat on campus. Not that you’ve been thinking that much about him, but his Instagram shows up in your recommended often enough for you to know that he goes to parties nearly every weekend. The sliver of overlap in the Venn diagram of your world and his only includes Microbiology on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1 to 4, and that’s enough for you. To fantasize about him from here, a fruit you’ll never have the opportunity to try. 
Jaemin starts to turn around and you quickly turn to Renjun, resisting the urge to peek at him out of the corner of your eye. You look at the shapes on Renjun’s computer instead. 
“That looks like shit.” 
“Trust the process,” he says. 
“You spent the entire lecture working on this, you are aware we have a lab where you actually have to do things right?” 
“You don’t think you can handle it on your own?” 
“Stop trying to bait me into doing all the work.” You close your laptop, standing and stretching. You see Jaemin out of the corner of your eye, a blob of black hair shuffling down the aisle toward the door to the classroom. The orange-pink sweater is actually a cardigan, large cream colored buttons keeping it together. That’s when you realize you’re staring again. Shit. 
“Are we eating before lab or do you seriously think you’ll finish that thing in the next thirty minutes?” You ask Renjun, who still hasn’t moved. 
“You want to be president when you aren’t even pressuring me into posting the election announcements that were supposed to go out yesterday?” 
“I want to eat something before we have to stare into microscopes, so what do you want?” You wonder if he’s focused enough to miss you grabbing his wallet out of his bag. 
“Whatever you want is fine and if you use my card it will literally decline.” You curse and toss his wallet back into his backpack. 
“Should have taken that class with Chenle, his card never declines.” 
“That’s because it’s his parents’ black card.” He finally looks up from his laptop at you. “Are you getting the food or not?” 
You open your mouth to say something extremely witty and/or smart, but your stomach rumbles. “I’m going to fire you when I’m president.” 
“And who else will put up with your bullshit?” he calls as you walk down the aisle. You prepare a mature response (sticking your tongue out at him), walking backwards. Directly into someone—bouncing off their chest, more specifically. 
Hands grab your shoulders before you can react, straightening you before you have a chance to fall. “Woah there.” 
“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you say as you turn around and find Na Jaemin staring at you. Apologies spill out, even as he smiles at you, a true, knees-to-jelly, threat-to-sunshine smile. 
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. 
“Sorry,” you repeat. Your brain struggles to diversify its vocabulary with him looking at you, smiling with his eyes in full focus. His eyes are so dark it’s difficult to distinguish between his pupils and his irises. Staring, again, the third time in an hour. Why can’t you be normal around him? 
“I was blocking your way out anyway, so it wasn’t all your fault.” He steps back, letting you out of the aisle. At least, giving you the space to do it, since your feet decide not to work. He tilts his head at you, sending your brain into a spiral of predictions, ranging from he’s going to ask you out (rather fantastical) to he’s going to tell you that you have something stuck between your teeth (horribly realistic). 
Instead, he says, “You’re YN, right?” 
“Yeah. How did you know that?” 
His smile widens when you say yes. “Student council vice president, right?” 
You don’t trust your voice so you nod. 
“I’m Jaemin,” he says, extending his hand for a moment like he wants to shake hands but he pulls away at the last second. “Your picture is on the website.” 
“Nice to meet you,” you say, mouth going through the motions on its own since your brain’s whiteboard has been wiped completely clean. The only thing left is NA JAEMIN in giant bold letters, bright red marker and all. 
“Yes, it is,” he says. Does he know the effect his smile has on people? Legally it could be considered a weapon. He pauses a moment longer, like he wants to say something else but instead he turns away, walking back to his seat, waving at half the class because of course he does. 
You don’t have to turn around to feel Renjun staring at you. You don’t feel like hearing his judgy comments, even when they’re only passed on through his eyes. Whoever said eyes are the window to the soul was right—Renjun’s give you a clear view of the most judgmental person you have ever met. You leave the class without looking back. 
Very few places nearby campus sell edible food, and even fewer are ever empty enough to be able to grab food and eat before the three hour lab starts. Today is even worse than normal, as if everyone has chosen to be hungry at the same time as you. You end up at a 7/11, grabbing Takis since they’re the only chips Renjun will eat. You grab an iced tea, tapping your finger in line as you wait. Getting the food was enough of a distraction to keep you from thinking about Jaemin but as you wait for the person in front of you try to get a discount using a coupon that expired three months ago, you go over every millisecond of the interaction–and god, you were so awkward. All you really did was apologize to him, you couldn’t even move. You have got to grow up, stop acting like a middle schooler with a crush. 
The cashier finally gives up, giving the person a discount and waving them out. You set your food down and smile at her. She does her best to put a customer service smile back on her face, though you can see the exhaustion. You thank her as profusely as you can. 
By the time you make it back to the lecture room, there’s barely five minutes left of break. 
“Thank god, I’m starving,” Renjun says, grabbing the bag out of your hands. You keep your iced tea on the side farthest from him, glaring at him until he tilts the bag so that you can reach it too. “We are going to make Donghyuck cook tonight, I need real food.” 
“Agreed,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t spew hot chip dust everywhere. 
“And I took pictures of you embarrassing yourself in front of Jaemin, so please try to replace me as your social media correspondent.” He smiles at you over the purple bag. 
“You’re horrible, has anyone ever told you that?” 
“Music to my ears, sweetheart.” 
.
.
Unfortunately, Renjun’s graphic does look good, though still not good enough to warrant how much time he spent on it. The messy shapes don’t look half as bad when they’re the right color, and all the information is listed (not in Comic Sans, though it’s only a matter of time before he tries to use it again. You have yet to find out if he actually likes the font or just wants to be annoying). He posts it an hour after the lab, which wasn’t half bad. Your percent error was under 50% for once. 
It’s a Friday morning, no classes since your university actually listened to the student requests for a three day weekend, which the student council (you) takes full credit for. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you are responsibility free. Instead you sit in cheap plastic chairs rented from the events and planning committee and under a tent that’s in serious danger of blowing away. 
You cling to your ball cap, NCIT STUDENT COUNCIL embroidered on the front. The papers in front of you whip around, the weights on top of them holding steady. At least it isn’t raining, though the thick clouds overhead get darker every minute. 
Realistically, there’s no reason for you to be here. All the information about running for student council is posted online and with over 30,000 students, only a small portion of the student body actually care—none of whom are walking around campus at 11 in the morning on a Friday. You pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders. Just another fifteen minutes and then Jisung will relieve you. Mark should be the one freezing his ass off since he’s the one that insists on upholding tradition, but as president he takes advantage of avoiding work whenever he can. 
Only two and a half months before that privilege is yours. Assuming you are elected, of course, but there’s no real danger in losing that. You’ve been a part of the council since freshman year, appointed as vice president as a sophomore. Few people have more qualifications, and fewer are actually interested in the position. Usually the competition comes from within the cabinet, but none of the rest of the guys have said anything about the running, though that might be because you haven’t shut up about the position since freshman year. Either way, the position is all but yours, and there is absolutely no reason you need to sit here when you could be studying for midterms. 
A strong gust of wind blows from in front of you instead of behind and this time you are too slow. Your cap flies off your head, tumbling across the empty quad. You shuffle after it, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly over your shoulders, which helps protect you from the cold winds. Unfortunately, said cold winds don’t stop blowing, and your hat blows faster than you can shuffle. It reaches to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the squad by the time it finally stops. 
Moving as fast as you can wrapped up one dry day away from mummification, you try to snatch the cap before it gets blown away again. You bend down to reach for it but a pair of sneakers appear in front of you and a mitten-clad hand grabs it before you can. You stand up and find Jaemin, wearing bright red earmuffs that have a green headband to make it look like a pair of cherries. He holds your hat out, smiling when he sees you (when he recognizes you?). 
“What’s wrong? Hat got your tongue?” He waits, with an expectant smile. The boy next to him, wearing more layers than you, shakes his head. “Sorry,” Jaemin says, “bad joke, I know, but I couldn’t help it.” 
Even the most lovesick part of you can’t defend him on that one. You take your hat from his outstretched hand, sticking it back on your head when you realize what your hair must look like after crossing the quad with all the wind. 
“It’s Jaemin, from microbio,” he says, as if there’s actually a chance you don’t know him. 
“Thanks, Jaemin from microbio.”
He flashes a smile that warms you better than any sun. “My pleasure, Vice President.” 
“You can just call me YN,” you mumble. 
“Where’s the fun in that?” You swear he winks, though maybe it’s the wind blowing in his eyes. 
The boy next to him nudges Jaemin with his shoulder, keeping his hands tucked safely in the pockets of his jacket. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” 
Jaemin rolls his eyes. “This is Jeno, he’s–God, I guess he’s my best friend.” He glances at Jeno, unimpressed. “The position is temporary.” 
“Thanks!” Jeno says brightly. 
“Jeno, this is the vice president of the student council,” he says. 
“YN,” you say, “I’d shake your hand but…” You show your hands, stuck keeping the blanket wrapped around you. 
“It’s alright, I lost my gloves, so my hands are stuck here.” Jeno lifts his jacket with his hands in the pockets, just to prove his point. 
“Hey, I didn’t get a handshake,” Jaemin says. 
“Did you need a handshake?” 
He tilts his head, showing off his jawline, not that you’re paying attention to that at all. It simply calls attention to itself, and who are you to ignore a jawline that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo (not the ninja turtle). He must be cold with so much skin exposed. 
“I’ll settle for some advice,” Jaemin says. Right, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing his face to famous works of art mid-conversation (save it for the Instagram stalking like everyone else). 
“Advice?” 
“I was actually looking for you anyway.” Jaemin glances at Jeno before meeting your eyes again. “The student council election is open to anyone, right?” 
“The presidency is open to seniors that are enrolled here, but yeah,” you say. “Why?” 
He shrugs. “I’m going to apply.” 
You blink at him. “For president? Of student council?” 
“Yeah,” he says. Jeno shuffles beside him, stuffing his hands impossibly deeper into his pockets. 
President… but that’s your position. If it wasn’t for the senior-only rule, you’d already be president. You rose through the ranks, suffered through a vice presidency with Mark to get here–it’s your position. 
“Do I apply there?” He asks, pointing at the table you’re supposed to be sitting at. 
“The application is online,” you find yourself saying, “you have to submit a resume and go through a qualifying process, and submit your proposals for campaign policies and a whole bunch of other stuff, it’s all on the application information.” You’re about halfway through your own application, though it’s mostly copying and pasting from the document you’ve been working on since you joined student council. 
“You can scan the QR code on this blanket, it’ll take you to the application.” You hold it straight, cursing Renjun in your head for being so creative with marketing. You look like an idiot, waiting for him to scan your shoulder. 
“Cool,” Jaemin says, pulling out his phone, but instead of scanning the code, he hands it to you, a new contact profile with your name already in it. You glance between the phone and the smiling boy. “Can I ask you if I have any questions?” 
Jaemin is asking you for his phone number. To help with his campaign, against you. Your brain works in overdrive, trying to determine how you are supposed to feel. Your heart doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of the internal turmoil. You put your number into his phone and hand it back to him. 
“Sure,” you say, even as your brain screams at you not to. “Whatever I can do to help.” 
He grins and your brain fully malfunctions, gears popping, cartoon sparks flying. “Thank you, YN.” 
“No problem,” you mumble, knowing that’s not true at all even without a functioning brain cell. You should have let him call you vice president when you had the chance–this is so much worse. 
“I should go back,” you say, taking a step backward, a gamble considering your history of walking backwards around him. Trying not to linger in Jaemin’s presence is like a planet resisting the pull of gravity to the sun–no matter how hard you try, you can’t beat physics.  
 But maybe he isn’t the sun because when you take another step, Jaemin takes a step to follow you. Are there stars that revolve around planets? But Jaemin doesn’t revolve around you, he doesn’t even exist in your solar system. Maybe a black hole is a better metaphor, sucking you in from a galaxy over. You should stop making metaphors based on middle school astronomy. 
You peer at Jaemin as he continues across the quad, walking leisurely beside you as you shuffle. Jeno trails behind slightly, risking the cold to pull out a phone. 
“Are you following me?” 
Jaemin looks at you over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “You think you’re that special already?” Before you can answer, he laughs. “But, yeah, I am. I can’t leave you all by yourself out here, anything could happen.” 
“As opposed to by myself at the table?” 
He shrugs. “There’s two chairs. I could sit with you.” 
It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, looking him up and down. He’s got a puffy jacket (bright red, probably to match with the earmuffs) and jeans. “You’d freeze in five minutes.” 
“You could–” 
“Are we going to Doyoung’s or not?” Jeno calls from behind you. 
“Right,” Jaemin says, “I definitely did not forget about that.” He glances at you. “Rain check?” 
“I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to keep me company freezing my ass off,” you say, “but seriously, I wouldn’t let you stay anyway.” You reach the table, turning to face him. 
Jaemin pouts. “Why not?” 
“For starters, I don’t want to be responsible for the hypothermia you’re bound to catch,” you say, “and it’s a student council thing. You’re not a part of the student council.” 
“Not yet.” 
Right. The standard, crush-threatening-the-dream-you’ve-spent-three-years-working-toward-situation. “Also, no offense, but I barely know you.” 
“Offense taken,” Jaemin says, holding a hand over his chest. “We’ve taken half a class together!” 
“We’ve spoken twice if you count today!” You say. Does he really not get it? “At the very least it would be awkward.” 
“I take full offense to the idea that I could ever be awkward,” Jaemin says. He folds his arms over his chest, eyeing you. “I’ll prove it to you.” Your gut twists, sending off the warning bells, but there’s no way Jaemin is actually flirting with you. He probably hates the idea that someone doesn’t immediately trust him with their heart and soul. He doesn’t need to know that you already do. That’s why there’s simply no way he’s flirting with you–it simply doesn’t make sense. 
“Dude, we seriously need to go,” Jeno says. “Doyoung is spam texting.” 
Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you. “I’ll see you in class.” 
“Bye Jaemin,” you say. You watch him walk away with Jeno, throwing his arm over his friend’s shoulders. He doesn’t look back at you. 
What just happened? 
Jisung approaches so quietly you jump when you turn around and he stands in front of you. “Was that Na Jaemin?” 
“Yes–wait, how do you know him?” 
Jisung avoids your eyes, turning to watch the pair of boys trudge away. “Renjun talks.” 
You’re going to kill him. But first you need to defrost, so you hand the blanket over to Jisung and jump a few times to warm yourself up, trying in vain to make up for the loss. 
“What was he doing here?” Jisung asks, wrapping himself so tightly his feet are bound together. One strong push would send him tumbling over, probably unable to get up. If only it was Renjun. 
“He wants to be president.” 
“Of student council?” 
“Apparently.” 
“Huh.” Jisung sits back. “Aren’t you supposed to be president?” 
“Yep.” 
“Huh.” Jisung stares at you. 
“Have fun!” You say. The air without Jaemin is so much colder. Maybe your toes have frostbite. “It’s cold!” 
Jisung grunts, huddling down and you don’t spare a second look at him. There’s a solid chance he’s texting Renjun already, since your best friend has decided to be a dirty gossip. You walk along the sidewalk and try to tell your heart that no matter how pretty his smile is, Na Jaemin is bad for you. Your heart reminds you that he saved your hat. 
Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, fully expecting to see a message from Renjun but instead a string of numbers show up. you better save my number :). You stare at your phone until it fades to black, which is why you know the exact moment it starts to snow. Though it’s March and the groundhog didn’t see its shadow, a snowflake falls on your phone, melting quickly. You walk home in the snow, thoughts of Jaemin piling up a snowbank that no plow can clear. 
.
.
For breakfast on Tuesday morning, you have an untoasted bagel with a side of impending doom. You woke up with the feeling, a knot in your gut that usually only appears before exams or after you drink too much coffee, but today has chosen to warn you of unknown horrors yet to come. It has to be the dream you had, only you forgot it the moment you woke up. 
[Bitch #1] You’re just trying to avoid jaemin. 
You don’t know why you expected Renjun to support you. Unsurprisingly, he found out about Jaemin’s intent to run for president before you made it back to your apartment, and dedicated an hour to lecturing you over FaceTime, then spent the entire pregame on Saturday side eyeing you. 
Jaemin’s message sits at the bottom of your recent texts. He hasn’t sent anything since Friday, though neither have you. You close your phone and try not to think about him, an impossible task. In the end you can’t think of a valid excuse, and go to your morning lecture. It’s one of your favorite classes (world history of medicinal developments 1200-1600) but today your mind drifts, still trying to figure out why today feels so off. Are you forgetting an assignment? You’ve checked the syllabus for all of your classes and the reminders your professors sent out but nothing has slipped past your the list on your planner. You check your outfit after class to see if you put something on backwards but you look fine. By the time you head toward microbio, you’ve resigned yourself to a day of inexplicable anxiety. 
You should have trusted your gut. 
You take one step into the room and the knot in your gut twists itself into a mess that spells out leave now while you still have the chance. 
In your normal spot at the back of the classroom, sitting beside Renjun, sits Jaemin, grinning and waving at you like he’s been sitting there the entire semester. 
You walk carefully down the aisle of desks, stopping in front of him. “You’re in my seat.” 
Jaemin doesn’t seem to notice Renjun’s snort, opting to smile at you. “Hello YN, it’s nice to see you.” 
“Hi Jaemin,” you say, “you’re in my seat.” 
He rolls his eyes, sliding his backpack to the side and slipping into the next seat over. “I was just getting to know Renjun.” 
You glare at your best friend, sitting beside him. “I’m sure he’s been lovely.” Renjun smiles innocently, turning back to photoshopping a graphic of the student council.  
Jaemin pulls out his laptop, sitting leaning back into the chair. Is he planning on sitting here for the whole class?  
“What are you doing?” You ask softly. Renjun continues to click around, not even pretending not to eavesdrop.
“I told you, I could never be awkward,” Jaemin says. 
“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, shrinking in your seat. Does he really not notice the class staring at you? Okay, maybe staring is an exaggeration, and it’s not the whole class, but the people he normally sits with keep glancing back at you and whispering to each other. 
Professor Bae walks in and they turn back to the front, saving you from (more) embarrassment. From the corner of your eye, you watch the boys at your sides—Renjun doesn’t bother to open the notes doc he shares with you, opting for continuing the edit, which you can’t really complain about because it’s the series of posts you asked him to make. Jaemin pulls up a cartoon series, Teen Titans, volume off with the subtitles on. 
“Is this what you do every class?” You whisper. 
Jaemin looks away from his fake typing for a moment. “She grades for attendance, not participation.” 
“Are you even passing this class?” 
Jaemin grins. “Sweetheart, I skew the curve.” Just to prove his point, he pauses the bickering superheroes and pulls up the grade review for the class. True to his word, his scores are well above average, rivaling your own. With the exception of Renjun, you haven’t met anyone who’s gotten similar grades. 
Jaemin smiles, switching back to the show. He exudes confidence, and why wouldn’t he? Not only hot and popular, he’s smart too, smarter than you—it takes you hours of studying, exam cram sessions, paying attention in class—he doesn’t even hide that he isn’t paying attention, and from his reputation alone, you know he doesn’t spend as much time studying as you. Does he know what he’s getting into with student council? Even the laziest of presidents put in several hours of work a week.
Jaemin laughs at the show. Renjun finally glances at you, raising his eyebrows at Jaemin in a silent question. You shrug, mouthing, I don’t know either. He purses his lips and turns back to photoshop. You’re sure the second Jaemin steps away he’s going to be on your ass again. 
Belatedly, you realize you’ve spent far too much of the class thinking about Jaemin. Professor Bae has already moved on from weekly announcements to new topics, meaning you have a date with YouTube review videos tonight. Thank god Professor Bae actually cares about her students and has recorded lectures. You just have to hope you didn’t miss one of the exam hints she only drops during class. 
Jaemin and Renjun stay quiet for the rest of the class period, though it does little to help you actually focus. Between Jaemin existing next to you and the inevitability of Renjun’s judgment, it’s hard to stay focused on virus identification. You take half the notes you usually do. 
But can you really blame it on them? It’s you that loses focus, you that is distracted by Jaemin beside you when he doesn’t actively try to pull your attention. He may have disrupted the balance of the universe by sitting beside you, but that doesn’t mean you have to fall off the scale. 
Professor Bae announces the end of lecture a couple minutes early. You swear you see her raise her eyebrows at you and glance at Jaemin before disappearing into her office for the half hour break before lab. Is it too self-absorbed to wonder if she’s taking things the wrong way? But what is the wrong way? None of it makes any sense except that maybe Jaemin is too stubborn for his own good. Funny how a week ago he didn’t know your name and now you can say he’s ‘too’ something. 
“So what do you normally do during break?” Jaemin asks. “Other than bounce off the chest of your roguishly handsome classmates.” 
You roll your eyes to keep him from noticing how flustered his comment actually makes you. “Go over the prelab in case someone forgets to do it–”
“I always do it!” Renjun says. 
“–but usually get snacks and do homework. Lately Renjun has been doing a lot of student council work during class, but that’s because he doesn’t know how to manage his time.” 
“Says the one who asked me to design a scheduler for them.” 
“Just because you’re good at Canva doesn’t mean you’re on top of your work.” 
Renjun shakes his head. You can tease him all you want, at the end of the day, you know that it doesn’t really matter. The truth is, he just doesn’t need to study as much as you. Sort of like Jaemin, and absolutely nothing like you. 
“What do you normally do during break?” You ask. 
Jaemin purses his lips. “Well, my lab partner rarely does the prelab, so usually I let him look at mine.” From the row where Jaemin normally sits, a guy in a striped yellow polo glares back at you. 
You glance between him and Jaemin, who turns away from his partner to look at you. “Should you go over there?” 
“Probably.” He doesn’t make a move to get up, instead tilting his head and smiling at you a little. “You’re very interesting, YN.” 
You cough, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the A key on your laptop which is in serious danger of falling off. “Well, your lab partner is probably going to try and inject you with a virus during lab if you don’t go over there.” 
Jaemin laughs. “You’re probably right. I’ll talk to you later.” He stands up and glances at Renjun, who finally looks away from his laptop. Jaemin nods at him and flashes a smile at you, showing perfect rows of white teeth, and finally turns around, backpack half open in his hand. 
You tear your eyes away from him, turning back to Renjun, who sits with his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand. He softens his eyes and looks up at you. “You’re very interesting, YN.” 
“Shut up,” you say, pushing his elbow out from under him, though he doesn’t fall like you wish he would. 
He shakes his head. “I do not like that guy.” 
“Really?” You frown. “Why?” 
“The fact that you’re even asking me that.” He sighs. “He’s just not my favorite type of guy.” He glares at you before you can tease him. “You seem to exclusively be attracted to shitty men, and then I become associated with them through proximity and it’s overall not a fun time for me.” 
“Okay first of all, you barely know Jaemin,” you say, “and second of all, nothing’s ever going to happen with him.” 
Renjun raises his eyebrows. 
“Seriously,” you insist, “he’s literally Jaemin, and I’m… not his type. You can hate him all you want but don’t do it on my behalf.” 
Renjun stares at you a little longer. He doesn’t believe you, and he’s probably right not to. But he turns back to his computer and doesn’t argue back. 
“I didn’t do the pre lab, though,” Renjun says, “that was a lie.” 
“I’m going to kill you and make it look like an accident.” 
.
.
Jaemin doesn’t show up to class on Thursday. You stare at your phone, the single message in your conversation with him. Curiosity and something bitter boil together, making it impossible to think logically. He acts so friendly around you it would be easy to mistake him for a friend, but it’s not like you don’t have friends. You wouldn’t have a second thought about sending a text like this to Renjun or Donghyuck–but you’ve never felt butterflies when either of them looked at you. 
So when your phone dies, you slip it into the pocket of your sweatshirt instead of trying to fight Mark for a charger (ever since “someone” stole one, he’s been overprotective of the cords). It’s movie night anyways, it’s not like you need your phone. 
“Wait,” you say, “since when are we watching Endgame?” 
“We literally just voted,” Donghyuck says, “You could have tied it for Lilo and Stitch but you weren’t paying attention.” He glares at you. 
Mark throws an arm over your shoulders. “It’s all good, YN can just make the popcorn.” 
“It’s hitting buttons on a microwave.” 
“Oh, would you look at that, the movie’s starting!” Mark says, pushing you off the couch and towards the kitchen of his apartment. You glare at him, but the guys have made you watch Marvel movies enough times that you are glad for the excuse to escape any part of it. It’s bad enough you can hear it from the kitchen. 
The shelves in Mark’s apartment are tall enough that he keeps a stool in the kitchen so that he can reach the highest of them. Of course that’s where he keeps his popcorn, so you jump as high as you can, snatching the box. Except you pull a little too hard and the box flies clean out of your hand, your feet slipping out from under you. You tumble to the ground, narrowly avoiding banging your head on the faux marble countertop. 
A moment later, Donghyuck appears standing over you, box of popcorn in one hand. “You could have just used the stool.” 
“That’s so much work.” 
“And yet it keeps you off the floor.” He holds out his free hand and helps you stand. Your tailbone hurts a little but otherwise it seems you dodged major damage. 
“You okay?” Chenle shouts. 
“Fine,” you shout back. You wonder what the odds are that they’d let you bleed out to finish the movie—probably higher than what you want to calculate. At least Donghyuck is as anti-Endgame as you. 
He sets the box on the counter, pulling the plastic off a bag and putting it in the microwave for five minutes. You would’ve just used the popcorn button but Donghyuck insists it tastes better this way. He turns around, leaning against the counter and studying you. 
“So,” he says. 
You raise your eyebrows. “‘So’ what?” 
“So, Jaemin.” Donghyuck stares at you, eyes unreadable. He’s been like this ever since you met him—pulling people apart with his eyes and extracting the most important bits, all with a smile on his face. He knew Shotaro was going to drop out before Shotaro did. 
“He’s…” A friend? A crush? The guy you wish would stay out of your life so you could keep daydreaming about him? 
“He’s sort of famous,” Donghyuck says. “Or infamous, depending on who you ask.” 
“And if I ask you?” 
Donghyuck smiles like this is going according to his script. “He’s lots of fun to party with. I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like him.” 
“But?” You jump when the first piece of popcorn pops. 
Donghyuck pins you down with his eyes. “But he isn’t the boyfriend type. I mean, I’m not best friends with the guy, but it’s pretty obvious, and I talked to—”
“Stop.” You hold a hand up. “I know exactly what kind of guy he is, I’m not an idiot.” 
“I’m not saying you’re an idiot, I just—”
“Donghyuck, I get it.” You stare back at him. “I really do, but I promise I know what I’m doing.” Okay, maybe that last part is a lie, but you know what you aren’t doing. You don’t expect a single thing from Na Jaemin. 
“I heard he’s running for president.” 
“Come on,” you say, “you think he can beat me?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. He won’t call you out on it, but he doesn’t have to. Your lie doesn’t even convince yourself. Jaemin has it all—grades, good looks, and, most importantly, popularity. Yes, he can beat you. Easily. 
“Why are you helping him?” 
“Jisung can’t keep his mouth shut, huh?” 
“Renjun was actually the one that told me, but that’s not the point,” Donghyuck says. 
“He hasn’t even asked for help,” you say, “and it’s not like I’m going to give up. I just…”
“You like him,” Donghyuck says. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to try to deny it but you won’t fight a battle that’s already lost. But you won’t admit it either. 
“I know what I’m doing.” 
Donghyuck chews on his lip for a moment. “Just be careful,” he says, “I do care about you. A little. Just a tiny bit. And from what I know, Jaemin is a good guy, but I don’t want you to get hurt because he isn’t what you want him to be.” 
“Gross, stop acting like we’re friends,” you say. 
“Never mind, I take it all back,” he says, “and I won’t be your vice president.” 
“Too late.” You shrug. “You already signed a contract.” 
“Fine, I’ll veto everything you propose.” 
“You don’t have the power to do that.” 
He tossed his hands up. “What is the point of being vice president?” 
You beam at him. “Doing the shit I don’t want to do!” 
Donghyuck opens his mouth to argue back but he pauses, sniffing at the air, and that’s when you realize the popcorn has long since stopped popping. Behind Donghyuck, smoke rises. 
He curses, pressing the button to open the door only to take a wave of smoke straight in the face. At least the bag isn’t on fire. You laugh as he waved his hand in front of his face, coughing. 
“Dude, what is that smell?” Mark shouts from the living room. 
You spend half the movie bickering with Donghyuck while trying to get the sharp smoky scent out of Mark’s kitchen. By the time the Avengers have all the infinity stones again and are in the final battle, you are curled up on the floor with a blanket, the popcorn bowl confiscated by Chenle when he realized how much you and Donghyuck ate while making it (it sort of tastes like smoke anyways). Two Marvel movies later, Mark shakes you awake and sends you and the rest of the guys out. 
You’re so tired by the time you get home, you plug your phone in and fall asleep. That’s why you don’t see the message until your alarm goes off the next morning. 
[Na Jaemin] you busy? 
.
.
For the past three weeks, you’ve tried meditation. Renjun swears by it, but you’ve seen him lose it over half a quesadilla, so it doesn’t exactly instill confidence in you. Still, you set aside ten minutes every morning to listen to the podcast he sent you. It’s meant to be calming, to connect you with yourself, and usually you do feel better, at least for a few minutes. 
You peek at your phone, checking how much time in the lesson is left (3 and a half minutes). No new notifications. 
Jaemin’s message gave you a heart attack when you woke up. He sent it at 8:12pm, probably right after your phone died. So seeing his message first thing in the morning woke you up pretty fast. You sent an apology that you definitely didn’t rewrite fifteen times, and now you wait. 
But no, you’re meditating right now. Clearing your mind, not thinking about a single thing except the air that floods your lungs, letting your heart beat twice before releasing the air again. You peek your right eye open. No new notifications. 
The narration ends and you sigh, laying back on your bed and checking your schedule for the day even though you’ve memorized it. In half an hour you need to be in the library to meet with your study group, then a council meeting, some space for lunch (which will undoubtedly end up crashed by Chenle or Donghyuck), then more homework in the afternoon. Tonight you’re supposed to go to a party thrown by one of Mark’s friends from grad school—depending on whether Renjun can find out if he’s a poli-sci major or not. 
You jump when your calendar disappears and the incoming call screen pops up. You stare at Jaemin’s name for a couple seconds before your brain begins to function again, and you slide the button at the bottom of your phone to answer the call. 
“Hello?” 
“YN,” Jaemin says. His voice is a little deeper than normal, raspy like he just woke up. “I was starting to think you’d blocked me.” 
“Sorry, my phone died last night and Mark doesn’t let anyone use his chargers.” 
Jaemin laughs, the phone distorting the quality, sounding choppy and un-Jaemin. “Damn, does the student body know he treats his council like this?” 
You laugh a little but can’t think of anything else to say. The silence stretches longer as Jaemin doesn’t speak either. The ceiling of your apartment has a constellation of holes, evidence of the former tenant’s antics. You have yet to figure out exactly what it could be—stabbing the ceiling with a broomstick? What does Jaemin’s ceiling look like? He’s so hard to pin down, like the more you get to know him the less he makes sense. He’s the type to have a messy room with clothes tossed everywhere and a bed that’s never made, yet he’s also the type to keep it neat, put up diagrams to match the college aesthetic of studying even if Jaemin himself is allergic to it. 
“So,” Jaemin says, apparently realizing you aren’t going to say anything else. “I actually texted last night because I wanted to see you.” 
You shove down the butterflies that spring up. “For what?” 
“First of all, it’s cruel that you don’t think I’d want to see you just to see you. But also I was gonna ask to go over microbio together because I heard a rumor that Professor Bae talked about the final.” 
“Don’t you have a lab partner?” 
“Yeah, he’s who told me she talked about it. Unfortunately he’s worse at taking notes than me.” He pauses. “Besides, you’re much cuter.” 
“Oh.” The butterflies breach containment, digging like madmen trying to escape your stomach. 
“So are you free?” 
Despite just checking your schedule, your mind goes blank. You frown, trying to remember what you’d just seen, and thank every deity that might exist that Jaemin can’t see your face right now. 
“I’m free after the council meeting. How is 12:30?” 
“Damn, council meetings on Fridays,” Jaemin says, “that works though. Meet you in the library?” 
“We can use the council room on the third floor,” you say, “no one else will be there.” 
“Okay,” Jaemin says, “see you soon, YN.” 
“Bye, Jaemin.” 
The butterflies have turned into zombies, rotting in your stomach and spoiling the leftover popcorn from last night. It’s just sharing notes. It’s just Jaemin. He’s just a boy from another world. The butterflies groan and demand chocolate. 
.
.
Council meetings feel a little bit like the Magic School Bus series. The tagline plays in your head: A normal council meeting? With this group? No way! 
Some of the blame can be directed towards having such an eclectic group of majors, Mark as the only true political science major. The rest of the group has been adamant about keeping the council safe from political science majors (how Mark doesn’t see the horrors of his classmates you truly don’t know). Another point towards Jaemin, being biochem and pre-med. 
Though being a non-poli-sci major doesn’t mean he can handle the presidency. Mark can barely do that. Not that he’s a bad president. Though it sometimes feels like you do all the heavy lifting for him to take credit for, he does work hard. No, Mark’s problem isn’t his leadership—it’s that he doesn’t know when to give up. 
The council meeting is long done but he continues to bicker with Donghyuck, who holds the entire student council hostage. 
“It’s a proven fact,” Mark says. “How are you arguing with science?” 
“Can science tell me what I feel?” Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest. His laptop has faded to black, the meeting notes long forgotten. “This isn’t about facts, it’s about my experience!” 
You check your phone. The meeting has already gone over fifteen minutes. Any longer and Jaemin could walk in on a very not-empty room with Mark committing a crime against Donghyuck for saying that Froot Loops have individual flavors. Maybe it’s time to intervene. 
“You’re just gaslighting yourself,” Mark says, “it’s not physically possible!” 
“Well, you’re not physically possible!” 
“That makes negative sense. I’m getting dumber listening to your attempts to argue.” 
“Okay,” you say, standing up so quickly your chair falls back. “This isn’t council business anymore. All in favor of concluding the meeting?” According to the official rules, Mark is the only one that can conclude the meeting, but Jisung’s hand flies up, followed quickly by Renjun and Chenle. 
“Cool, majority rule,” you say, ignoring the outrage on Mark’s face. Donghyuck pretends to be mad too, but he was only arguing with Mark to piss him off. He’ll probably follow the older boy around just to ruin his day. The two always have some fight going on—you’re convinced the reason Donghyuck agreed to be your vice president (if you win) is just because Mark would hate it. 
Jisung leaves first, eager to escape from Donghyuck and Mark. Donghyuck pauses long enough to write a few more summarizing notes on the meeting but catches up to Mark before he can vanish, continuing to pester him about Froot Loops. 
“Going home,” Renjun says, “we’re going out tonight, by the way. Turns out Taeyong is an econ major, and also a former frat president.” 
“Huh,” Chenle says, “I can’t believe neither Donghyuck or me know him.” 
Renjun shrugs. “I need to finish a couple projects since nothing will get done tomorrow.” He grins. “See you guys later.” 
“Bye Renjun,” you say, tapping your phone screen to check the notifications. 
[Na Jaemin] in the library  [Na Jaemin] lost in the library  [Na Jaemin] nvm found the stairs 
[yn] need me to come find you? 
[Na Jaemin] nah i don’t get lost (yes please) 
“You’re texting with Jaemin?” Chenle breathes over your shoulder, making you drop your phone. Unfortunately it’s still open, your messages easy to read and Chenle doesn't hesitate to snatch it. At least the rest of the guys left, only Chenle is nosy enough to wonder who you’re texting. 
“This is painful,” he announces. He hands the phone back to you. “You could at least add an emoji. Or, like, send more than one sad message.” 
“Why?” 
Chenle shakes his head. “You are texting the Jaemin, right? Na Jaemin?” 
“Is there any other?”  
“You’ve got a chance here,” Chenle continues, ignoring your question. “Not many people—well, I’ve actually heard he’s quite experienced but that’s beside the point, because you have a chance and that’s rare.” 
“Genuinely, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You glance at the door, just in case Jaemin appears. Somehow you don’t think you want him overhearing this conversation. 
“Okay, look,” Chenle says, “you’re you. Student council, 4.0 GPA, plans to be the next director of the WHO or whatever—”
“That’s not at all what I want.” 
“—never a second you aren’t working, and then there’s Jaemin, and sure he’s a STEM major too, but the he’s type that strolls through life, who has things fall into his lap because he’s hot and lucky but you can’t really be mad about it because he’s Jaemin.” He pauses, like that explains everything. But you already know that Jaemin exists in a realm outside your own. Chenle waits a moment longer then shakes his head. “You know what, you’ll figure it out eventually.” He glances at you with a frown. “Maybe.” 
“Good bye, Chenle,” you say pointedly. 
He moves extra slow, closing his laptop only after spamming the save button. He once forgot to save a spreadsheet after a two hour budgeting session and you think he’s still traumatized. Still, spending a full thirty seconds hitting CTRL + S is excessive even for him—he’s stalling, trying to be as nosy as ever. 
“I’m meeting him at the elevator so you can stop stalling,” you say. You hover over the send button, Chenle’s “advice” infecting your brain. You hit send before you can overthink it any more. 
[yn] on the way now 👍 
Chenle sighs, returning to peeking over your shoulder. “You’re hopeless.” 
You grin and give him a thumbs up. “Thanks buddy. If you hurry you can run into him in the elevators.” 
Chenle perks up, grabbing his still-open bag and sprinting out the door. You feel a little bad for lying to him, but he was the one that didn’t read Jaemin’s messages closely enough—evident from missing the fact that he’s on his way up the stairs and how Chenle thinks he might actually be flirting with you. You shake your head at the thought. 
Just when you reach the doorway to the stairs and wonder if you should meet him in the stairwell, the door flies open. Despite climbing three flights of stairs, Jaemin breathes normally. A different backpack than usual is sling over his back, bright orange, like… well, an orange. (Persimmon, your brain unhelpfully supplies). 
“Hi,” he says. “Sorry I’m late.” You wonder how anyone is immune to his smiles. A smile like that robs you of everything irreplaceable and leaves you missing it as soon as it’s gone. 
“You’re not late,” you say, showing him the time on your phone as you walk to the council room. “Exactly on time.” 
“Oh.” He glances at you, and when you turn your phone back to face you, you understand the awkwardness. 
[Chenle] good luck 🤪🤪🤪
[Chenle] have fun with the hottie 🔥🔥🔥
[Chenle] but not too much fun 😼😼
You clear your throat, praying he didn’t get a chance to read all of the messages. “Chenle’s just making fun of my emoji use. Or lack of emoji use.” 
Jaemin nods. “I hate to take the side of someone I’ve never met over you, but he might be right.” 
“I use a perfectly respectable amount of emojis,” you say. “Besides, I’ve never seen you use any.” 
“You’re just going to have to text me more to find out.” 
You’ve never been so happy to see the doors to the council room. It’s nothing more than a glorified study room, with a rectangular table that stretches in the middle of the room, eight wooden seats set around it. A giant whiteboard stretches the majority of the back wall. The only truly special part of the room is the projector that hangs from the ceiling, with a screen that needs a button to come down. The walls that line the hallway are glass, along with the doors, so that anyone can see the council discussions, though tucked away in the back corner of the third floor, only the occasional passerby is subject to the bickering. 
Jaemin raises his eyebrows and whistles. “This is nice.” 
“Don’t lie,” you say. “The only nice thing about it is that we have full access to it whenever we want.” You point to the sign that reads Student Council Members Only. Truthfully, the six of you use it more as a private study room than for actual council work. 
“It is nice,” Jaemin says, holding the door open for you. He pauses in front of the whiteboard. Chenle had been sitting closest to it, apparently spending the final thirty minutes of the meeting drawing out different game plans for the basketball club he somehow has time for. 
“Chenle,” you explain, “he thinks he’s a part of the Golden State Warriors.” 
“How much council work actually gets done in these meetings,” he says teasingly. 
“You catch on fast,” you say. “It took me the full first year to realize how incompetent we are.” 
“How come?” 
“The president just wanted resume padding. He was incredible at sucking up to faculty and making the right people think he was a great leader, but he would send us fresh-terns to pick up condoms and sent Donghyuck with a fake to get drinks once.” 
“Fresh-tern?” 
“The freshman interns,” you explain, “since the president is the only elected position and the rest of the council is appointed, the only way to get known is through the ‘internship,’ which technically is open to anyone but only freshman are dumb enough to dedicate that much time to a job that does absolutely nothing—like, it doesn’t pay or even guarantee you a spot on the council in the future. It’s all based on whether the president likes you or not. 
“Anyway, our president last year was marginally better, and he tried to abolish the seniors-only president rule but couldn’t get it to pass in time, so we ended up with Mark. Not that Mark is a bad president, though council meetings could be half as long if he wouldn’t go on tangents every two minutes.” You stop, realizing how much you’re talking. You’ve come dangerously close to telling him the truth about the presidency. Jaemin says nothing, probably bored. “Anyways, we’ve got a few new initiatives this year but mostly we try to maintain the annual events and keep Mark’s head on his shoulders until he graduates.” 
“Sounds like fun,” Jaemin says. 
“Sometimes.” You pause. “How’s your application going, by the way?” 
He glances at you, smile fading a little. He turns back to the whiteboard, this time studying the fading drawing Renjun made a month ago of a goat fighting Donghyuck. “Still figuring things out. Mostly working on my campaign goals.” 
You nod. A part of you wants to press further, learn more about his plans—but because you want to beat him or because it’s Jaemin? Why is it so difficult to think clearly around him? 
You sit at the table and open your laptop, pulling out your notes. He sits beside you, scraping the chair against the tile floors until his knee is an inch away from yours. He must not notice the way your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer. A moment later and your brain is invaded by his scent, a clean smell like laundry detergent or body wash. 
“It’s organized by subject,” you explain. “Usually I take notes in class and then Renjun reviews and organizes it with keywords and highlighting and this coding system that I don’t really get but he swears by. Either way it works for us.” You show him the keyword that Renjun uses to signify exam hints, combining it with the past class’s date to cross reference the relevant information. 
Jaemin lets out a low whistle. “This is crazy.” 
“Yeah,” you say, “Renjun puts a lot of time into it. But when we study for exams, it’s worth it.” 
“You know Renjun from student council?” He asks, beginning to type a few notes. 
“I guess that’s where I met him first,” you say. “But he’s pretty much my best friend. The whole student council is pretty close, way closer than the group Mark came into. He tells us horror stories about how they made the fresh-terms compete just to turn them against each other, though that’s back when it was filled with poli-sci majors.” 
“None of you are poli-sci?” 
“I’m public health,” you say, “and Mark is poli-sci, but the rest of the guys avoided it. We swore that the next council would be free of the plague of poli-sci majors.” 
“You really hate them?” 
“They deserve it,” you say. “But also it’s because I made the mistake of dating one last year.” You shudder at the memory. 
“Really?” Jaemin looks away from his laptop, staring at you instead. 
“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine. “It was a moment of weakness and he confessed to me with cookies.” 
“Not making fun,” Jaemin says. “Were the cookies at least homemade?” 
“Well, yes.” You shake your head, trying to stop the next bit from coming out. But Jaemin raises his eyebrows and you can’t help it. “He had his ex make them, actually.” 
“No!” 
“Yeah, and then dumped me for them after, like, two weeks, and the guys are all convinced that he cheated on me with them,” you say. “So, no, I don’t really like poli-sci majors.” 
“A good observation,” Jaemin says. His approval makes your cells glow—scientists could discover a new form of bioluminescence from within you. 
Jaemin continues to stare at you, eyes full of warmth. It’s so easy to get lost in them, glancing between the pure dark chocolate and fond smile on his lips. The change in light when your laptop screen fades snaps you out of it. 
You eye him. “Do you even need these?” 
“Nope,” Jaemin says. He grins at you. “Just an excuse to see you.” He turns back to the laptop and continues to copy your notes into his document. You turn around, giving him no chance to see the smile that creeps onto your face. You seriously need to get a grip. Jaemin needs to get a grip and realize that he can’t flirt with you like this, not without completely upsetting the balance of the universe. But even as the world slides sideways, you smile. 
.
.
“Nothing special.” That’s what Renjun said when you asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. But March 23rd falls on a Friday this year, and everything snowballed from there. 
That’s how you find yourself wearing an outfit even the most lenient parents would dub inappropriate, wearing more body glitter than exists in the state of Utah, taking your fifth shot. 
“Sixteen more to go,” Renjun says, patting your back. Why you promised to match him shot for shot, you aren’t quite sure. You had reasoning, at some point. Definitely before the shots. 
At least you aren’t alone—Donghyuck curls his lip after his shot, lime slice snatched out of his hand by Mark before he can take it as a chaser. Mark laughs as he grimaces. 
 “What’s our motto?” Donghyuck shouts. 
“Two and three to infinity!” Mark shouts. 
“Nobody goes to the hospital!” You shout. 
“To the grave!” Renjun shouts. 
“Huh, I guess we should have coordinated that,” Donghyuck says. “I was thinking something more like ‘happy birthday Renjun.’” 
“Shoulda said something,” you say. You take a step to the couch, the world tilting to the side, though maybe it’s actually you because you stumble into the wall. It holds you up until you make it to the couch, sighing as you reach solid ground. A couple people sit next to you, friends of friends of Renjun whose names you don’t know regardless of the alcohol. 
“You’re YN, right?” The girl closer to you says, making you feel a little guilty for having no idea who they are. She beams when you nod. “I live in Apollo Hall, Karina is my RA, she says you aced biochem.”  
“Oh, yeah,” you say. “Who do you have?” 
“Professor Ahn,” she says. 
“He’s good,” you say, “I had him for a different class and he talks off topic all the time but if you visit him in his office hours once, he’ll remember and be more lenient on the research report. I can send you my notes, too, if you want.” 
She smiles even wider. “Really?” 
You nod, your brain sliding around your skull with the movement—not a good sign, only five shots into the challenge. 
The music changes, a Britney Spears song that Donghyuck must have slipped into the rotation. The girl’s friend drags her up to dance before you get the chance to ask for her name. 
Dancing sounds like so much fun, until you stand up and realize that you’ve been hydrated too well. Your bladder announces its need for attention much like the maintenance worker that fixed the leak in your shower—loud and last minute. 
You push your way through the people crowded at the edge of the room, making your way to the hallway where the bedrooms and, more importantly, bathroom are. You pass by a semi-familiar face flirting with a girl from Renjun’s study group, but your bladder gives no time for your brain to make connections of recognition, let alone time to wave. 
Finally, you break the crowd, ignoring the couple making out concerningly close to Donghyuck’s bedroom door (something you like to call “not my problem”). All your focus is on the door to the bathroom, a piece of lined notebook paper taped on with RESTROOM scribbled in marker. Just as you reach for the handle, the door swings inwards. 
You might have caught yourself, two or three shots ago. Instead you tumble forward, the floor coming to meet you fast. And then you aren’t. 
“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Jaemin says, laughing. He caught you by the elbows, your face pressed into his chest. He helps you straighten up, though he doesn’t let go of your arms. 
“Jaemin.” You grin at him. 
He tilts his head. “You’re drunk.”  
“You’re pretty,” you say. Jaemin tilts his head and smiles at you. Endearing. Endearing, that Jaemin has an amused expression on his face. Like he is endeared by you. How funny. 
But he really is pretty. He must be hot in the leather jacket, loose over his broad shoulders. Yes, those broad shoulders. He’s hot too. But first, he’s pretty. His black hair falls just above his eyes, loosely split down the middle, framing the perfect angles of his face–the perfect line of his nose, gentle curve of his cheekbones, that jawline–and of course those lips. Perfect lips. 
Jaemin leans closer. “You’re prettier.” 
You burst into laughter, stopping only when you snort. “You almost sound serious.” 
Jaemin doesn’t say anything else, still smiling at you, only a couple inches of space between you. Ignoring those lips this close is impossible. They’re the prettiest shade of pink, and he must have put on lip balm–or maybe it’s the lighting–because they glow. What do they feel like? They have to be soft—you’d bet everything in your pocket (if these pants had pockets) he tastes sweet. Like a fruit, a yummy, juicy fruit, dripping with juice, which reminds you—pee. 
You push past Jaemin, into the bathroom. “Need to pee.” 
He catches his hand on the door before you can close it, frowning a little. “You’re not going to slip and crack your head open?” 
“Nope,” you say. “Really need to pee.” He lets go of the door and you slam it shut, using one hand on the counter to steady yourself while you fumble with the lock. After an eternity, you finally get to the toilet, which, despite the number of people crowded in a house of two college guys, isn’t totally disgusting. 
Two minutes, an empty bladder, and clean hands later, you push the door open. Your balance has improved just enough for you to feel confident in your ability not to die on the dance floor—and with perfect timing because Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz just started playing. You find Donghyuck in the middle of the room and join him, grinning when he cheers. 
Renjun appears halfway through the next song, shots in hand. More of the tequila ends up on the ground than in your stomach by the time you knock it back but Renjun shouts, “Six!” anyways. 
Another 2000s hit plays (it’s definitely Chenle’s playlist, which reminds you that you haven’t seen him in a while) and you get Renjun to stay on the dance floor for the full song. It’s hot and sweaty and you wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world. 
Donghyuck cheers again, hyping up the people that join your little circle. You turn to see Jeno, wearing a piece of fabric that technically could be called a shirt though it really looks like a hole for his head that’s completely open at the sides except for the ties at the bottom. Beside him, and right next to you, Jaemin grins at you. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you against his side. 
“And I was like baby, baby, baby, oh!” You shout along with the song, vaguely aware of the rest of the guys singing along—except for Jaemin, who waits for Ludacris’s verse to come in to rap it word for word. 
Renjun drags you away before the next song can start. “Number seven,” he shouts in your ear over the bass. 
“What about Donghyuck?” You glance behind you where he starts a full performance, an empty water bottle as a microphone. 
Renjun shrugs. “He’ll catch up.” 
You watch Renjun struggle to pour the tequila, holding the bottle with two hands off the edge of the counter to get the mouth as close to the paper shot cups as possible. You can’t see how much tequila actually makes it into the cups but it burns its way down, sending your stomach spinning. Only a third of the drinks you are supposed to take with him but you’re already questioning the next round. 
Renjun gets dragged away from you by some people you aren’t even sure are actually his friends, but you lose track of him when someone tugs on your hand. Jaemin, again. He lost his jacket at some point, wearing a shirt that matches Jeno’s, showing off his considerable arms. Even in the poor lighting from the strobe lights Donghyuck set up, you can see the definition in his biceps. 
Yeah, you’re definitely staring. 
Jaemin asks something but you can’t hear him over the music. You step closer, stumbling a little on your own feet. As always, he catches you, arm sliding around your waist. 
“How are you doing?” He shouts over the music. 
You grab his other forearm to keep yourself from falling over. “I’m so hungry.” 
Jaemin leans closer, lips brushing against your ear. “Wanna get out of here?” You raise your eyebrows at him and he grins. “The McDonald’s, across the street?” 
“I need French fries,” you say, letting go of his arm and spinning out of his embrace to face the door. He catches you before you can go too far (and fall on your face), looping his elbow through yours. 
As soon as the door closes behind you, everything falls silent. Not everything, because you can still hear the bass from inside the house, and cicadas sing, and the highway is close enough to hear the rumbling of engines passing by. But quiet falls in the space between you and Jaemin, a breath waiting to fall free. 
He doesn’t let go over your arm, using his other hand to brace the three steps in front of Donghyuck and Renjun’s place. He leans on you as much as you lean on him, magnets stuck to each other, except magnets don’t struggle to stay upright crossing an empty street. Maybe if they could get drunk. 
The street light flickers above you, crackling electricity. You can feel Jaemin’s bare arm against yours, firm muscle held taut. You peek at the boy beside you, his head tilted to the sky. Pretty. You won’t say it again for fear of being repetitive, but it’s the right word for this moment. Not just Jaemin, but the chilly night air, the faulty light above you fighting with the neon lights to illuminate your breath. You’ll blame the alcohol in the morning, but tonight it’s all pretty. 
Jaemin swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and he turns to meet your eyes. It’s definitely the alcohol but you don’t look away. 
The crosswalk changes to the white man, beeping at you to cross the street. You tear your eyes away from him, settling for clinging to his arm to make it past the striped crosswalk illuminated by headlights. 
You’re hardly the only drunk couple at McDonald’s. Jaemin notices you limping a little and drops you off in a booth, stumbling on his own to order. You must have done something dancing, though you don’t remember anything hurting. Your ankle hurts now, so you lean your head into your elbow and watch Jaemin’s back. 
The fluorescent lights can’t make him look sickly. They show his arms in their full glory, open sides revealing enough of his body to make you self-conscious. The hint of a farmer’s tan dusts his arms, shoulders just a shade lighter than his forearms. Where did he get that from? 
So many questions about him. So much to know. So little you do know but you like him so much it gets so hard to tell. What matters. 
Jaemin puts his wallet into his back pocket, turning around and smiling when he meets your gaze. He slides into the seat across from you. “Potatoes are incoming.” 
“Do you know what persimmons taste like?” 
“What?” His brow furrows, a cute frown that makes you forget what you’d asked. 
“Never mind,” you mumble. Opening your mouth any more around him is a dangerous game—you aren’t quite sure what will spill out. 
He reaches out to tap his finger on your arm. Like the sun, being in his atmosphere makes everything warmer, his touch boiling your skin. The heat flows through your body, each cell vibrating with the need for something. 
“You feeling okay?” 
It takes considerable concentration to work past his finger, which has graduated to drawing shapes, and answer him. “Renjun wanted to do twenty-one shots for his birthday but seven is beyond enough.” 
Jaemin whistles. “Is Renjun going to survive tonight?” 
“Probably not,” you mumble. “That opens up a council position. You could be a good social media person. Your face is pretty enough.” 
“Is that the only requirement for student council?” Jaemin asks. “Being pretty?” 
“You can’t be a poli-sci major either,” you say, “which you pass. It helps that you’re smart, and kind. I like people that are smart and kind.” 
“That’s a low bar,” Jaemin says. “What else do you like?” 
“Hm…” Your voice rumbles, a funny feeling in the back of your throat. You hum for a little longer before you remember Jaemin asked you a question. What do you like? 
“Sharks. They’re much cooler than dolphins. And potatoes, I love potatoes. I like Renjun. And Donghyuck. And Mark, even though he’s a poli-sci major. I like Chenle and Jisung. They might be my favorite people.” And you. I like you so much I don’t know how to say it. 
“What about doctors?” Jaemin leans closer, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Do you like doctors?” 
You lift your head up, pouting your lips at him. “Doctors have needles. I don’t like needles.” 
Jaemin laughs. “Even if the doctor is super rich?” 
“Rich? From taking all my money?” You cry. 
“Rich from saving people’s lives,” he says. “Like a neurosurgeon.” 
You squint at him, the blurriness of your eyelashes mixing with the blurriness of the alcohol and canceling out until his face becomes clear. “Are you actually pre-med because of Grey’s Anatomy?” 
Jaemin looks away, running a hand to the back of his neck. “Maybe.” His biceps are almost enough to distract you from his admission. Almost. 
“Oh my god.” You can’t hold back the giggles, trying to cover your mouth with your hand. Tears prick at your eyes and you gasp for breath, stomach twisting the alcohol with the giggles and turning over itself until you aren’t sure if you’re starving or need to throw up. 
“It’s a perfectly respectable career!” Jaemin says. 
“You want to be Patrick Dempsey?” You say between giggles. “Not even McSteamy?” 
“Hey, he’s—wait, you watch it too?” 
You shrug. “It’s fun.” 
“Then how are you making fun of me!” He cries. 
“I didn’t go into medicine because of it!” 
Before he can say anything else, the workers shout a number. He glances at the receipt and shoots you a glare without a drop of malice in his eyes and leaves. 
Jaemin being silly. Jaemin bickering with you. Hard to believe that even two weeks ago, you never would have believed he watched children’s shows in class and chose his profession because of a soap opera. Jaemin who keeps surprising you, who makes you want to believe that maybe he’s from the same planet as you after all. 
He brandishes the brown paper bag in front of him like treasure. What does it matter that you’re grinning because of him and not the golden treats inside?
“For you,” he says, setting the bag in front of you and tilting it on its side so you can reach inside for the fries. “I didn’t know what sauce, so I fought… Okay, maybe flirted with the worker, but the important part is that I got one of each.” He pauses glancing at you. “Which apparently you don’t need.” 
“So good,” you say, eating them properly: no sauce, just freshly fried golden perfection. You look up to find Jaemin smiling at you… fondly? Is that what’s in his eyes? 
“What?” 
He shakes his head. “You’re just cute.” 
You stare at him, fry halfway to your mouth. He looks down, the tips of his ears tinted red as he grabs a fry and dips it in honey mustard. 
The rest of your time at McDonald’s is dedicated to properly enjoying the French fries and not at all sneaking glances at Jaemin sneaking glances at you. You finish the fries long before the swirly feeling in your stomach goes away. The butterflies must be drunk too. 
“Back to Renjun’s?” Jaemin asks, standing up and extending a hand for you to take. The most dangerous handhold of your life. You don’t think twice about taking it. 
“Mm, I’m pretty tired,” you say, “and Renjun was pretty adamant about the twenty-one shots thing. If we go back, he won’t let me go until one of us is in the hospital.” Walking is easy when Jaemin lets you lean on his shoulder. Standing just outside the McDonald’s, your shadows stretch ten times as tall as you, the lines between you and Jaemin undefined. 
Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t worried about him?” 
“He swore to send Donghyuck to the grave before him, he’ll be fine,” you say, “plus Jisung is there, sober. They’ll be fine.” 
“And you?” 
“I’ll be fine when I get home.” You tilt your head up from his shoulder only for him to look down at you, his nose brushing against yours. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding. But you don’t move away and neither does he. 
“Take me home?” 
He doesn’t move for a heartbeat, eyes flickering to your lips. Then he turns his head straight, patting your head with his free hand a couple times. “Okay.” 
You whisper directions, a ten minute walk from Renjun’s place. The walk home is considerably less stumbly, your balance recovered halfway through the fries. You cling to Jaemin’s arm anyway, more afraid of letting him go than falling. 
The building appears far too quickly, Jaemin pushing open the glass doors and walking you to the elevators. You don’t dare say a word to break the silence as the elevator dings to the third floor. He waits until you reach your door to disentangle himself from you, standing with the tips of his sneakers a millimeter away from yours, catching your hands in his. 
“Goodnight, YN,” he says. 
No. This isn’t the time for goodnight, not when every atom in your body might explode if he takes a step away. You tighten your fingers around his. 
“Do you want to come in?” You ask. “See my apartment?” 
He tilts his head, a little frown creasing his brow. “Okay.” 
You fumble with your keys, hands shaking when you open the door. Emotions swirl around you, making it difficult to tell the difference between excitement and anxiety, if it exists. Calling the place an apartment is a bit of a stretch. Glorified broom closet is your preferred term–a bed shoved against the far wall with a tiny window next to it, desk tucked in next to it like a puzzle piece without enough space for a chair, a door for your bathroom, directly next to the “kitchen” of a stovetop oven and sink, and a closet that barely fits your coats.
Beyond being tiny, you left the place a mess, second, third, and fourth contenders for outfits strewn on your bed, unwashed dishes in the sink. The entryway is the only space for the two of you to stand together comfortably but you lead Jaemin farther in, balling up the clothes and tossing them into your hamper underneath the bed. 
“I don’t normally have company,” you explain. 
“It’s okay,” he says, “my room’s a mess too.” He picks up the pink teddy bear from your bed and smiles. “A gift?” 
You shake your head. “Bought it myself for surviving sophomore year.” You pull the great white shark out from beneath a blanket. “Freshman year.” 
“Cute,” Jaemin says, still looking at the bear. 
You follow Jaemin as he wanders the tiny room. He pauses at a framed picture of the student council that sits on your desk. It was a gift from last year’s graduating cabinet, the whole group, president, appointed cabinet, unofficial members, and the fresh-terns, fifteen people in total. 
“That one’s my ex,” you say, the word still strange in your mouth. “If you count two weeks as even dating.” 
“The one in red?” 
You nod. 
Jaemin snorts. “I’m way hotter than him.” He sets the picture and turns, and suddenly only a couple inches of space separate him from you. This close, you can see exactly how pretty he is, long eyelashes that cannot be natural, even longer when he stares at his toes instead of meeting your eyes. And, this close, you can see the soft pink of his lips, lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit. 
Not drunk, not yet sober, it’s easy to lean a little closer, brush your lips softly against his. The kiss is over before you can think about it. 
You open your eyes to Jaemin staring at you, eyes wide, somewhere between disbelief and fear. You open your mouth to apologize but he moves faster, hand coming up to cup your face and pulling you closer until you kiss him again, your hand instinctively catching you against his chest. He links his fingers with your free hand, tugging you even closer to him. 
He moves slow at first, a gentle kiss that takes your breath away anyway. He pulls away when the stars flood your brain, smile boyish and sweet. His thumb strokes your cheek into the shape of a heart. Then he slides his hands to the back of your neck, letting go over your other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you against his chest. 
Jaemin knows how to kiss. He moves like it’s his last chance, desperate lips telling truths words can’t capture. And you might not have as much experience, but you understand the language of desperation. A never ending chain of fireworks explode within you, pushing you to wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him even harder. Your hands move on their own, tugging at the cloth of his shirt until he leans back, breathing heavily. 
“How far you want to go?” He asks, chest rising and falling with each breath. “You know consent is so sexy.” 
You laugh, giddiness making it difficult to think. “You have a condom?” 
Jaemin grins, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He slips the shiny packet out, tossing his wallet to the floor along with his shirt. He gives you a proper amount of time to ogle his chest before tugging you against him again, your heart pounding so hard against him he must feel it. 
He tilts your head towards his until his lips brush against yours, and when he speaks, you feel every word. “Now where were we?” 
.
.
[Na Jaemin] sorry I had to go :( [Na Jaemin] wish I could have been there when you woke up  [Na Jaemin] but! I have a surprise [Na Jaemin] [image attached] [Na Jaemin] see you in the morning <3 
You blink at the message, a picture of him wearing a fuzzy headband in the middle of his skincare routine. Your head pounds a little, but otherwise your hangover isn’t too bad. Definitely not the worst it’s ever been. 
No, the strange feeling in your stomach is something else. Last night is burned into your memory, every move, every touch. Jaemin, who you fell asleep beside, though the timestamp on the texts show he didn’t stay much longer after. Not that you expected him to. It’s Jaemin, you remind your traitorous heart. No matter how much he flirts, no matter what he did drunk, he was never yours. 
Your phone rings, but it isn’t Jaemin. 
“Hey,” Renjun says. 
“You sound awful,” you say, throat aching. 
“You’re one to talk,” Renjun says, “and you didn’t even get to double digits. Donghyuck out-drank you.” 
“And how’s Donghyuck doing?” 
“Throwing up in the shower, it sounds like.” 
You laugh, the motion, sending your stomach spinning. “Happy birthday Renjun.” 
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I actually did call for a reason.” 
“I am not helping with clean up,” you say, “Chenle swore he’d do all of it since he bailed on set up.” 
“Not that,” Renjun says. “I’ll be over as soon as I can walk without passing out.” He hangs up, leaving you to frown at the empty screen. 
Well, considering how late he got back, Jaemin probably won't be awake any time soon. You need to shower and rehydrate and try to convince your stomach to take something—and with how Renjun sounded over the phone, it seems like you’ll have plenty of time. 
An hour later, slightly burnt toast, and post-Advil, the headache is mostly gone. Your stomach still twists at the thought of Jaemin. You jump at the doorbell but find Renjun wearing a mismatched sweatsuit and his bright orange crocs, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose. He wears the hood of his sweatshirt up but you can see tufts sticking up. 
“God, did you shower?” You catch a whiff as he passes by, reeking of tequila. 
“I was serious about coming over as soon as possible.” He groans, collapsing on your bed. “I think I maybe came over too early though. Might need to throw up.” 
“Do you want toast?” You offer. 
He glares at you. “Just sit.” Renjun rarely speaks with patience but today he seems extra short on it. Maybe because of the hangover, but the way he glares at the carpet before turning to look at you makes you wonder if something else is wrong. His eyes soften a little when he meets your eyes, his frown lightening just barely. 
“I really wish I didn’t have to tell you this,” he begins. “Did you go out with Jaemin last night?”
“He… took me home,” you say. “What’s wrong Renjun?” 
“Last night—well—this morning, I met some guys from Sigma Nu, who are friends with Jeno and Jaemin,” he says, “who were talking about how Jaemin is going to be president. About how he’s messing around with the frontrunner, trying to distract them or fuck around, trying to take the presidency.” He falls quiet, studying your face. 
“He wouldn’t.” Your voice feels so small. 
He wouldn’t, you said, but you can’t even convince yourself. Your heart flounders, drowning in a lake of its own creation, choking on fantasies. Your brain takes control in the chaos, gears turning despite the crashing waves. Facts don’t need oxygen. 
1) Jaemin approached you about the presidency first 
2) he pretended not to know you were running 
3) he’s known for hooking up with anyone 
4) he never belonged in your world 
The conclusion is obvious, a conclusion you could have come to much sooner if you weren’t too busy getting swept off your feet by his easy flirting and sweet smile. Though your heart doesn’t want to believe it, it makes too much sense. So much more sense than the hope you were stupid enough to believe in. Jaemin isn’t that type. How many of your friends told you that? How many times did you tell yourself that? But you let him hurt you anyway because he held your hand and called you cute. How quickly a fruit can rot when it sits in the palm of your hand. 
Jaemin doesn’t exist a universe away–he lives in your world, worse than a cliche. The type of boy that made you want to believe in him, even when you knew better from the start, and maybe that’s the worst part. He never hid who he was, what he wanted. It’s you that wanted more, that believed he could want something more. How pitiful. 
“I’m sorry,” Renjun says softly. “I wanted him to be different.” 
“Did you? Because everyone was telling me about how I needed to be careful, protect myself, not get hurt over him. Did any of you consider that I didn’t ever expect anything from him?” You shake your head. “No, you all thought poor little YN, getting their feet swept out from under themself over a boy that doesn’t give a shit about them? A boy that’s actively trying to stop them from achieving a dream they’ve had since they started college? Well, guess what? You all were right. Congratulations.” You bite your lip trying to hold back the tears but it’s too late. 
“I’m sorry,” Renjun repeats. He pats your arm, looking away when you swipe at your eyes. He waits for you to take a shaky breath, hand on your arm. You grab the teddy bear, trying not to hear Jaemin calling it cute. 
“I slept with him.” The admission burns its way up your throat. “Last night.” You sigh. “You don't have to tell me I’m an idiot.” 
“Okay, I wasn’t going to say that,” Renjun throws his arm over your shoulders. “Though I’m kind of regretting sitting on the bed.” He scoots a little forward but squeezes your shoulder. “You’re going to do things you regret, there’s no stopping it.” 
“Why do you always have to be right? Why am I exclusively attracted to shitty men?” Your chin digs into the innocent bear, jaw tightening. “Why can’t I just like a boy that likes me?” 
“Do you think maybe you liked him too much?” Renjun asks gently. “Like maybe you liked the idea of him more than Jaemin himself.” He pauses, squeezing your arm. “Don’t let a boy that isn’t real hurt you.” 
You lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. “But he was real. Sweeter than persimmon. Like a strawberry. Or a mango.” 
“Okay, I’m not understanding.” 
“I thought he was a persimmon, a magic fruit I could imagine tasting sweet or sour or tart but he’s real and even though his flavor isn’t a mystery, it’s better than what I could have imagined. Like taking a bite of a pineapple and it’s the best pineapple you’ve ever had, juicy and sweet.”
“Okay first of all, that’s a terrible metaphor, please stop talking about how he tastes or I will throw up,” Renjun says. “Also persimmons are real.” 
“I know that,” you snap, “but I’ve never had one, so they’re magic to me.” You stare ahead, grateful Renjun knows when you just need a little bit of time to work up the courage to say what you need to say. “I’m saying you are right. I didn’t really like him, not at first. But it’s worse than that because when I did get to know him, it was so much better. He wasn’t a dream, he was a boy who watches Grey’s Anatomy and does skincare even after a night of partying.
“I know it makes more sense, that his flirting wasn’t real, that he was never really interested in me. But nothing real about him makes sense, and I want to believe in him, still.” You purse your lips. “Pretty pathetic, huh?” 
“You really liked him,” Renjun says, “that won’t just go away.” 
“That would be too easy,” you mutter. 
Renjun laughs. “You’re going to be fine. There are so many better men.” 
“That’s what you said last time,” you say. 
“And I was right,” Renjun says, “Jaemin is better than last time. Marginally. At least he isn’t a poli-sci major.” 
You snort. 
“See, you’re already laughing at him.” Renjun pushes you off his shoulder, standing up and groaning. “Now, I’m going to throw up in your bathroom, and then we can watch dumb action movies until your brain rots. The rest of the guys are supposed to come over, though I think Donghyuck is still throwing up.” 
You bury your face into the bear. “Does everyone know?” 
Renjun pauses. “The guys from this morning were sort of proud to be the ones to tell us.” 
You groan. The door to your bathroom closes but you barely hear it. You clutch the bear a little tighter, as if the fluff could break through your chest and fill the spilling hole in your heart. 
It would be too easy to blame Jaemin, to pretend like none of the pain is from your own stupidity. But you already told Renjun. You knew it from the start. 
Knocking at the door, a knock that means only one person. You wipe the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath that does nothing to steady your heart. 
“God, I was afraid I was waking you up.” Jaemin starts talking as soon as you open the door. He holds up a bag, a tray with two iced coffees and a hot cup. He looks unfairly good and, of course, he grins at you. “I wasn’t entirely sure what your hangover cure is, so I got hot and iced coffee, and there’s a breakfast sandwich and a donut and also these potato things, I really wasn’t sure what you’d like, but–” 
“Did you know that I was running for president?” 
Jaemin freezes, frown slowly curling his brow. “What are you–”
“Just answer the question.” You grip the door handle, knuckles turning white. 
He pauses a moment too long. “It’s not like that.” 
“Never talk to me again.” You fight the urge to slam the door, but your neighbors don’t have to suffer your wrath. You shake your head, “I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit.” 
Jaemin opens his mouth but you close the door, sliding the deadlock as hard as you can. He has the audacity to try to explain himself. If you didn’t want to hear him out so badly, you might laugh. Instead you turn your back on the door, sliding down it until you can rest your head on your knees and sob. 
.
.
Jaemin makes it halfway down the aisle of seats on Tuesday before you turn to Renjun, panic and tears in your eyes. He glares at Jaemin so hard he freezes in his tracks and doesn’t try again. He doesn’t look at you in class, not even a peek. On Thursday, he walks straight to his seat. 
.
.
Chenle doesn’t bother to throw his packages into the recycling after opening them. He says he’s hanging onto them to make moving out easier, but really he’s just too lazy to break them down. You have to step around them to get into his apartment, since he thought it would be fun to make an obstacle course out of them. Navigating these sober is hard enough, you have no idea how he makes it to bed after a night out. 
But today, it’s worth it. It’s been two weeks since you cut off Jaemin, a month since the day you bumped into him in class (a month and three days but who’s counting?). He doesn’t look at you anymore. You haven’t fully escaped him–every once in a while you’ll hear his laugh from the other side of the lecture room. The sound still stabs between your ribs, a wound turned new each time you hear it. But it cuts a little more shallow each time. One day you won’t feel it at all. 
And today, Chenle got a puppy. 
She cries before you make it over the baby gate in Chenle’s room. A tiny ball of white fluff bounds toward you, tripping over her own feet. 
“Hi baby!” Your voice automatically rises three pitches looking at her. “Aren’t you just adorable!” You crouch down, letting her jump on your knees. She won’t sit still long enough to be pet, sprinting around your feet, then back to Chenle sitting on the floor, back resting against his bed. 
“Hi to you, too,” Chenle says pointedly. 
“Hi Chenle,” you turn back to his puppy. “And hello puppy!” 
“Her name is Daegal,” he says. You can hear him rolling his eyes. “‘Cause she’s got a big ass head.” 
“Chenle is so mean to you!” You coo at the puppy at your feet. “But that’s okay, I’ll take good care of you. You can come home with me!” 
“You hear that baby?” Chenle says. “YN wants to pay me $1000 to take care of you!” 
You stare at him. “Did you seriously adopt a $1000 puppy?” 
He shrugs. “She’s really cute.” 
“You’re insane.” Daegal settles down enough to let you pat her head. 
“I invite you into my home for some much needed puppy love and this is how you treat me?” Chenle sighs. “To think that I felt bad for you, that I told you about her before anyone else. This is how I get treated for my kind heart.” 
“I don’t need your pity,” you say. Daegal licks your hand. 
“It’s not pity.” He pauses. “Well I guess it is pity, but you’re also my friend YN. Believe it or not, watching you live the sad boy lifestyle over some dude, again, is not fun. I’d much rather watch you being happy with my puppy.” 
“You’re the one who brought it up,” you mutter. 
Chenle claps his hands, making Daegal jump. “But that does remind me, everyone has been too much of a coward to ask, but I’ve heard from tertiary sources about his reputation, but I’d love a first hand account.” 
“What are you talking about?” You eye him. 
“How was the sex?” 
“You’re seriously asking me that?” 
He shrugs. “Well, yeah.” 
You pick up Daegal, staring at her instead of Chenle. She wiggles her tail, then her paws, so you set her back down. “I’m not answering that.” 
Chenle narrows his eyes, studying you. “That means it was good.” 
“That’s not at all what I said.” 
“And yet you’re not denying it.” 
“Please shut the fuck up.” 
For once he listens. With Renjun, silence means peace–he doesn’t say anything that doesn’t matter. When Chenle doesn’t speak, it means he has something to say and he isn’t sure how to say it. You peek up at him and your suspicions are confirmed. He chews on his lip, frowning at you. 
“Just tell me.” 
Chenle purses his lips. “He dropped out.” 
“Of school?” 
He rolls his eyes. “The election.” 
You stare at him. “Seriously?” 
“He hasn’t touched his application since Renjun’s birthday and Donghyuck said yesterday he emailed and said he wasn’t going forward with it.” He doesn’t say anything about how technically you should be checking the email. 
“But it doesn’t make any sense.” 
Chenle shrugs. “I’m just telling you what I was told.” He stands up. “Now! How much do you like cleaning up dog pee?” 
You glance down at Daegal, who squats in the middle of the room, a dark stain on the carpet beneath her. Chenle tosses you some paper towels and a can of Febreeze. 
“Why am I cleaning up after your dog?” 
“Because you tried to steal her,” he says, “and I’ve already done this three times today and I’m really sick of it.” 
You shake your head but pull off a paper towel and press it into the stain. 
“We’re going out tomorrow night, by the way,” Chenle says. “And you’ve passed two weekends in a row so you’ve hit a cap for the month. You have to come with, no ‘buts.’” 
Apparently the grace period of pity is over. Whatever, it’ll be nice to do something other than hiding in your room watching Powerpuff Girls. And maybe you will see him. Maybe you’ll get an answer to the giant question mark that’s lodged itself in your heart when Chenle told he dropped out. Maybe the little caterpillar of hope that’s survived these past few weeks can metamorphize. 
And maybe he’ll break your heart again. But you won’t get any answers daydreaming. 
.
.
How Renjun can still drink Tequila, you truly do not understand. Ever since his birthday, the thought of it makes your stomach flip, and you didn’t even drink that much. But he sips on the margarita, insisting it doesn’t taste like alcohol. 
“It’s disgusting,” you say, pushing it closer to him. “I am not drinking this.” 
He rolls his eyes. “You do realize the whole gimmick of this place is all their drinks are made with tequila, right?” 
“No one told me that!” You glare at Chenle, who showed up at your door at exactly 8:00pm and dragged you to the bar. “For the record, I would have pre-gamed. But I guess I can be the babysitter tonight.” 
Chenle cheers. “Donghyuck, you’re back in! YN is babysitting!” 
Your drink slides down the table to Donghyuck, interrupting whatever ‘conversation’ he was having with Jisung. 
“I thought the whole point of dragging you out was to make you have fun,” he says. 
“You better be fun, then,” you say. 
Donghyuck raises his eyebrows but eventually take a long sip. “Brain freeze!” He cries, clutching his forehead. You laugh with the rest of the guys. It’s almost normal, except you can’t help but peek at the door whenever somebody walks in. 
The night passes and the guys get more drunk. The bar gets more crowded–soon you are squished between Renjun and Chenle, barely able to breathe as the music slowly gets louder. The tequila looks more and more appealing but the guys need at least one person sober to make it back alive: Chenle arm wrestles a stranger while Donghyuck has some poor soul cornered, practicing his pick up lines. 
When Chenle loses, you push past him, muttering something about fresh air that they probably can’t hear. You push through the crowd of drunk people, trying not to remember the last time you did this. 
You squint at the steps, edges difficult to see with so little light. Who builds a bar on the second floor of a building? You make it to the final step but misjudge how close it is and your foot slips off the edge, sending you tumbling forward. You might have caught yourself, but you don’t have to—strong arms catch you mid fall, wrapping around your waist and swinging you clean off the stairs and onto solid ground. You aren’t surprised at all to look into Jaemin’s eyes as he lets go. 
He frowns at you, eyes so dark they look black. Maybe it’s the lack of light, but the twinkle in his eyes, the glint you’ve come to recognize as trouble, is missing. 
“Hi,” you say. 
He drops his arms, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. “So you’re talking to me now?” 
An apology begins on your lips but you can’t push it out. Not when you still don’t understand. “Can we talk?” 
He glances at you. “Have you been drinking?” 
You shake your head.  
“Okay.” He doesn’t walk away, folding his arms over his chest. 
When you imagined this conversation, the sun shined so that you could see the warmth in his eyes. He smiled at you, called you silly for ever doubting him. The Jaemin in your head wouldn’t ever do something to hurt you. 
But Jaemin doesn’t exist in your head–it’s far past time you learned that. 
“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have just cut you off. But I thought… I don’t know what I thought, let alone what I think now.” You force yourself to meet his cold eyes, searching for a hint of warmth. “Chenle told me you dropped out of the presidency.” 
He nods slowly. 
“But Renjun told me that someone told him that the presidency is the only reason you ever pretended to like me, but if you dropped out then I really don’t get it. Not that I ever got it in the first place, though, because you’re you and I’m me, and everyone kept telling me that, like I didn’t already know that you are supposed to be a persimmon and grow on a tree far far away from my lemon or pomegranate or whatever kind of fruit I am, because the point is we were never meant to be.” You take a deep breath, realizing that you don’t exactly sound sane. “What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t make sense. It made sense when you were trying to cheat me out of the presidency, but you dropped out. And it doesn’t make sense.” 
Jaemin blinks slowly at you. “You would rather believe that I was trying to rob your presidency than that I actually like you?” 
“Do you?” 
He frowns. “Of course I do. I like you so much I think about things I’ve never wanted before, the silly shit–watching horror movies as an excuse to cuddle, having picnics by the river, buying groceries together–I wanted to do all of it with you. 
“You talk a lot about how we’re different people—who gives a shit? If I’m the type of person that wants to be with you and you’re the type of person that wants to be with me, why does any of that matter?” He takes a step closer to you, and you can see you were wrong. His eyes aren’t cold, they’re full of emotion, dark waves of hurt. “What do I have to do to prove it to you? Should I tell you how pretty you are? How incredibly smart you are—not fake smart like me, but really smart. And when I’m around you, I like who I am. I know it’s cheesy but you bring out the best in me. 
“I know I fucked up. I should have told you how I felt before anything else, and I shouldn’t have left. I regretted it as soon as I was gone but it was terrifying to lay next to you and give you my bare heart, even when I didn’t think you would ever try to hurt me.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if it hurts more thinking that you never wanted a relationship or thinking that I’d ever stoop that low. I mean, everyone tells me about my reputation, but I didn’t think you cared about any of that.” 
Tears prick at your eyes. How could you be such an idiot? Listening to all the wrong people, especially yourself. Jaemin doesn’t exist in another world, he isn’t any kind of fruit. He’s a boy that you like that likes you back. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that. 
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching a tentative hand out to rest against his arm. “I’m so sorry.” He drops his head, sighing. “I was an idiot.” 
He sighs, staring at your hand. You start to drop it but he grabs it, squeezing your fingers. “Where do we go from here?” 
You study him, eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Jaemin who is not a fruit, not an alien, just a boy. 
“Hey.” You reach out and cup his cheek, waiting for him to meet your eyes. “My name is YN. I think you’re really cute.” 
For a heartbeat he doesn’t move. Then he smiles, cheek rising underneath your hand. “Hey, my name is Jaemin. I think you’re really cute too.” 
“Oh really?” You slide your hand to the back of his neck, wrapping your other arm across it. His arms wrap on your waist, pulling you into a hug. He squeezes you flush against him, head tucked into your shoulder just as yours is tucked into his. 
“I know we can’t start over,” he says, “but can we start again?” 
“How about this time we just talk to each other?” You say, tapping your fingers on his shoulder. “No more rumors and gossip.” 
He nods, chin digging into your neck a little. “I swear, I won’t give you any reason to doubt me ever again. I won’t be the kind of guy your friends call a red flag.” 
You loosen your grip and lean back to look him in the eye. “Wait, did they seriously say that to you?” 
“I ran into Donghyuck after I dropped out and we had a very… one sided conversation with his side doing all the talking,” Jaemin says, “and Renjun made it obvious from the start that he didn’t like me.” 
You laugh a little, then even more when he pouts. “You’ll win them over again.” 
“They really don’t like me,” he says. 
You cup his cheek again. “You’ll change their minds.” He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. He gasps a little, hands tightening on your waist. 
“Now, am I remembering incorrectly, or are you an amazing kisser?” You ask. 
He grins, leaning forward and closing the distance without wasting a second. Neither of you can stop smiling, lips and teeth gnashing together but it’s still the best kiss you’ve ever had. 
.
.
You stretch an arm out, only to find more bed instead of empty space. You sit up, shivering as the blanket falls away. Right, you fell asleep in Jaemin’s bed. His room is much bigger than yours, sharing an apartment with Jeno. He has enough room for a dresser and a nicer desk, even a chair. It seems he lied to you about being messy, because even when you show up unannounced, like today, his clothes are neatly folded and the biggest mess you’ve found has been three dirty dishes in the sink (which you later found out were Jeno’s). 
Jeno, apparently, isn’t all bad–he did let you in even though your boyfriend was still out. He doesn’t fully trust you, but then again, your friends don’t hide their mistrust of Jaemin either. You maintain your earlier stance that time will heal that wound. 
You hear a knife against a cutting board coming from the kitchen, so you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle towards the sound, unable to stop the smile from spreading up your lips when you turn the corner and find Jaemin standing at the counter. He glances behind him and grins at you, and even though you just woke up from a nap and probably have messy hair and marks on your face, he says, “you look sexy.” 
“So cheesy,” you say. He laughs and turns back around. You slip behind him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his back and closing your eyes. He radiates warmth better than any blanket. It’s too easy to lean against him, take a deep breath of the scent of his laundry detergent and cling to him. Jaemin moves slowly, careful not to hit you by accident. 
“What’re you doing?” 
“A surprise,” he says, “at least my attempt at one.” He sets down the knife on the counter and taps on your hands, pulling them apart gently and spinning around to face you before setting your hands back on his waist. He tilts his head at you when you purse your lips and frown. “What’s wrong?” 
“Still no ass,” you say, patting him a little lower than his waist. 
“Hey!” He sticks his lower lip out. “I’m trying.” 
“No one’s perfect,” you say, sliding your hands back up and sneaking a kiss to his cheek. 
“You are,” he says, cupping your face to kiss you properly. Jaemin still kisses like it’s his last chance, drawing out every moment, lips lingering on yours until your head spins. It’s only when you can’t breathe that he finally pulls away.  
“Good answer,” you say. 
He smiles. “If you come to the gym with me I’d be more motivated to get an ass you’d be proud of.” 
“You send enough pictures for me to know that if I saw you at the gym I would never survive,” you say. “You want me to die?” 
He laughs, squishing your face together with his hands. “If anyone’s going to die, it’s going to be me, because you are too cute.” 
He presses another kiss to your lips, still squished together in a pout. He laughs at the outrage on your face, letting go of your cheeks and slipping his hands behind your neck, kissing you one more time for real, letting go far too early. 
“The surprise,” he says. He lets go of you with one arm, turning to the cutting board and holding up a slice of what he was cutting. It looks a little bit like a tomato, though it’s more orange than red, and about the size of a golf ball. 
“A persimmon?” 
“I still don’t really get the persimmon thing,” he says, “but I’ve never tried one.” 
You blink at him. Jaemin makes it so easy to fall in love. He holds the piece closer to your mouth, waiting for you to open. A persimmon tastes sweet and mild and rich, a little bit like honey. Jaemin eats his own piece, frowning and nodding. 
“No more magical mystical fruit,” Jaemin says. 
“You’re going to make an amazing trophy husband,” you say. You tap him on the nose. “Maybe we could even be a power couple.” 
He grins. “We’ll be so cool. Like Beyoncé and her husband.” 
“Jay-Z?”
“Whatever.” Jaemin flips his hand. “The important part is that I am Beyoncé.” 
You smack his shoulders softly. “Hell no, Beyoncé would never have a flat ass.” 
“It always comes back to the ass.” He sighs. “Be honest: are you embarrassed by me?” 
Once you never thought he could be embarrassing. That was before you knew he staked his career on a soap opera and wears jorts to the gym, before he called you drunk just to confess he accidentally stole your pencil, before he spent three hours putting up campaign posters for you (and then another two getting written up by campus police for not having permission). Before you fell in love with him. 
“By you? Never.” You pat his cheeks. “Your ass leaves much to be desired, though.” 
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thank you for reading!
1K notes · View notes
fangirlika · 10 months
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yes yes yes !! for a pt2 of learning hours because that was hot. thinking abt the build up to them actually realising their feelings after charles makes her feel good....AHHH
me too bestie, me too… but first of all, thank you for all of your feedback! And to fulfill all of you guys’ wishes, here is part 2 to Learning Hours! I decided against directly connecting it to where we left off in part 1 but I hope you still enjoy reading it <3
Study Break
MASTERLIST
pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader
summary: “I wouldn’t want it to ruin our friendship, you know?” “It doesn’t have to.” But oh how wrong you were… part 2 to this.
warnings: nsfw, smut, porn with plot?? who would’ve thought, fluff, bad French, reader and Charles in denial
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“You fucked?!”
“Psst, Pierre, say it louder because I think not the entire paddock has heard you…”, Charles grumbled and looked around him slightly to check if anyone was actually close enough to hear them talking.
“Désolé, but how do you want me to react when you tell me that you and Y/n slept with each other?”, Pierre whisper-shouted now with a frown on his face.
Charles only rolled his eyes.
“Je ne sais pas comment c'est arrivé, but it has been happening a little more often these past weeks”, Charles admitted honestly whilst scratching the back of his neck. I don’t know how it happened
Pierre sighed and patted his friend on the back. “Oh, you’re in deep shit, mate.”
In deep shit he was indeed.
It’s been a little more than a month since you and Charles had sex for learning purposes for the first time but it definitely hadn’t been the last time.
After you gave him head he insisted on returning the favour to you immediately.
“Please”, he whispered against your lips, “let me make you feel good.”
You couldn’t turn him down, not then, not any of the times after that.
That day, Charles ate you out like a man starved, something your ex-boyfriend never dared to try out and really, you didn’t know what you missed out on.
Charles indeed made you feel good, he always does, and he probably gave you your most intense orgasm so far with his tongue alone. For the next few days after you couldn’t help but wonder what he could do to you with his dick.
And oh he did show you.
It was safe to say that with one single orgasm he made you feel better than your ex ever did in all of your time together.
After that, it seemed as if you two couldn’t stay away from each other.
Whether you two were at your or his place, whether it was in the evening or in the middle of the day - you almost always ended up as a tangled mess in bed or on the couch even.
But you were friends, that was what you were desperately trying to convince yourself of.
But all effort was without success because whenever Charles smiled at you when you were laying underneath him in bed or when you looked up at him while sucking him off, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies erupt inside your stomach.
It wasn’t just lust, it was something else as well. Something you were yet too scared to narrow down and confront exactly. You were scared of ruining whatever the two of you had.
You should’ve probably broken up whatever deal you had going on weeks ago but it all also felt far too good to quit.
-
That is how you found yourself in the current situation, with his dick hot and heavy inside your mouth.
You two had been watching a movie together at his place - which one you didn’t remember, it didn’t really matter from the beginning on because since the first minute of the movie your mind has been on everything Charles did sitting beside you on the couch.
His arm was lazily draped around your shoulders and you were leaning into his side, something the two of you have been doing for years but it seems like now you can’t do this without it becoming heated afterwards.
You were half an hour into the movie before Charles turned your head to face him and pressed his lips to yours.
“I think it’s stupid to keep pretending that either of us is paying attention to the TV…”, he muttered against your lips and you just smiled into the kiss.
No matter how many times you and Charles had made out by now, he never failed to knock the air out of your lungs with how his lips moved against yours and how his tongue danced around your tongue.
“Wanna take this to the bedroom?”, Charles broke the kiss and mumbled. You could only nod your head, still breathless from the kiss, and Charles smiled before he pecked your lips once again and pulled you into his lap. He then stood up with you in his arms and made his way towards his bedroom down the hall.
During that, you started to press wet kisses along his neck and jawline, your lips sucking a little on the spots you knew made his breath stutter.
As absurd as it sounds, the two of you had almost developed a routine on how to get the other one into the mood, something friends certainly do, right?
Charles pushed open the door to his bedroom with his foot and in a matter of seconds he had you underneath him on the edge of his bed, his upper-body hovering above yours. He took a moment to look you in the eyes with a small smile on his lips before he pressed them onto the side of your neck, just like you did to him only mere seconds ago.
You couldn’t help but let out a small moan at the contact.
Your hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt in a silent plead for him to take it off. And he did pull away from your neck to remove his shirt. You used this moment to pull off yours over your head as well, lazily tossing it somewhere on the carpet for you to pick up later - or tomorrow most likely.
Charles' gaze immediately shifted towards your tits. Since you had only been lounging inside the house for most of the day, you decided to not wear a bra. Charles knew that, hell, he was hyper aware of your nipples poking through the thin cotton material of your shirt the entire day.
“I love your tits”, he said and moved both of his hands to knead them softly. You only let out a chuckle at that, followed up by a moan when Charles pinched your right nipple with his fingers.
“L-let me suck you off, yeah?”, you moaned out and Charles audibly let out a groan at your proposal before nodding his head.
God, he loved how forward you were in bed too. When you two started this, he expected you to be a lot more shy and hesitant but he took pride in the fact that you seemed to be so comfortable with him.
Charles' cock was already hard when he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers and stepped out of them, using his foot to push them towards the pile of clothing that started forming on the carpet.
Immediately you sat up, mouth watering at the sight of his cock in front of your face. You licked your right hand before you wrapped it around the base of his cock, observing his reaction thoroughly. You smirked when you saw how he screw his eyes shut at the contact and let out a silent moan, his mouth hanging open a little.
You stroked his cock a few times before you used your tongue to lick up the length of his cock and over the tip. Charles' hand made it’s way to your hair, pushing some loose strands behind your ears, almost lovingly.
Despite the situation starting to get thoroughly filthy, the atmosphere between you was calm and somewhat familiar.
“You feel so good around me, keep going”, he whispered in encouragement and let out another groan as you wrapped your lips around his cock and started to move up and down his length as far as you could.
You looked up at him and your eyes met. Charles could’ve come at the sight alone and therefore decided to gently pull his hips away so that he slipped out of your mouth.
You looked at him confused but he only pushed you back onto the bed by your shoulders. “Wanna come inside you”, he mumbled which made you smile.
“Okay?”, he asked for confirmation and you nodded.
“Yes, please.”
Charles gave you a quick kiss and then made his way down your stomach until he kissed the hem of your panties. One of his fingers pressed agains your clothed clit which earned him a whine from your mouth.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties before pulling them down and off your legs. You slightly shuddered as your core got exposed to the cooler air of the apartment and the wandering eyes of Charles.
The first time he saw you completely naked, you were still a little nervous but seeing the way he looked at you somehow made all your nervousness vanish.
“Belle”, he whispered and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Please, Charles, get on with it”, you whined which earned you a light slap to your clit. You moaned and bit your lip right after.
Charles was never too rough with you, not wanting to scare you away or hurt you in any way but little things like these - he couldn’t help himself when he got to hear you moan so sweetly afterwards.
“Bossy again?”, he teased when he got up from his sitting position in front of the bed. You only let out a huff at his words and wrapped one of your legs around the back of his to pull him towards you, eager to feel him inside you again.
Charles had already taken his cock into his hand, ready to line himself up with your pussy when an idea came to his mind.
“Ready for another lesson?”, he asked with a smirk.
He probably expected you to nod your head with the same eagerness you displayed before but you couldn’t help but feel a little sting to your heart at his words. They reminded you what this seemingly still was: lessons, only teaching you how to feel good - no feelings involved.
Charles noticed the brief change of your facial expression before you forced up a smile and nodded. He hated to pretend that all this was just for learning purposes, to him it was more than that. And your reaction gave him the small hope that maybe you felt the same.
Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything and just continued with his proposal: “Soo, we have tried some positions by now but one thing we haven’t done yet is your riding me”, he spoke while stroking the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Would you be interested in that?”, he asked with an underlying tone of nervousness in his question.
You clenched your core at the thought of you sitting on his dick and riding him even though you would definitely lie to yourself if you claimed you hadn’t thought of that before.
“Lay down then, Leclerc”, was your response and you gave him a challenging smirk, one he immediately returned.
“Your wish is my command, L/n”, he teased before laying down on the bed and leaning his back against the headboard. You straddled him and moaned when you felt him between your folds.
“Go slow, okay baby?”, he said and put his hands on your hips. You answered him with a nod and sat up slightly before you lined up his cock with your entrance.
You slowly sank down on him which made your rally feel him inch by inch. You held eye contact the entire time and your mouth hung open while his brows were furrowed together to handle the insane feeling that was being inside you again.
When you bottomed out you took a moment to adjust to his size again. In this position you felt even fuller than ever before.
Charles squeezed your hips slightly and asked: “You okay?” You nodded and started to move up and down in his lap slowly but surely.
It only took a few strokes before the dull pain of him inside you vanished and was replaced with the familiar pleasurable feeling you had every time you two had sex.
You started to build a rhythm of moving your hips up and down his length and felt the familiar warmth building up in your core.
“You’re doing so good for me, love”, Charles groaned out and squeezed your hips tighter to keep himself from fucking up into you. He liked you in control but it took a lot of willpower for him to restrain himself from speeding up the rhythm himself.
You kept your rhythm and started to circle your hips slightly as well which caused him to hit that spongy spot inside your core once again and made you moan out his name in pleasure.
“Feels so- so good”, you managed to stutter out. “I’m close”, you moaned out after that and you struggled to keep up the rhythm with your hips.
Charles noticed and finally started meeting your thrusts with his hips pushing upwards and even deeper into you with had you seeing stars in a matter of seconds.
“My god, Charles”, you almost screamed out when you came with trembling legs and clenching your core. The sensation of you coming all over his cock didn’t fail to push him over the edge as well. He continued to fuck up into you during both of your highs but his thrusts began to stutter and became sloppier with each one.
“So good for me”, he repeated and caressed the skin of your hips while he closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. You attempted the same but you were unable to keep yourself up anymore and therefore almost fell onto his sweaty chest.
The room felt hot and sticky, just like your skin and the only audible thing were your ragged breaths.
Charles moved his hands to caress your back in small, mindless circles. The action made you smile agains his chest.
The two of you stayed in that moment for a little while before you moved your head up to look him in the eyes.
What you didn’t expect was that he was already looking at you with an expression you still failed to read but one you had seen increasingly more often these past weeks.
You stared at each other with the same loving expression on your face for what felt like an eternity.
“Y/n”, he started but quiet frankly, he didn’t know what to say exactly. Charles generally was a confident guy but you somehow managed to have him at a loss for words most of the times.
“I think we can stop pretending that this is only for learning purposes”, he whispered and internally he was ever so scared of your reaction.
He didn’t know what he expected you to reply. Only in the far back of his mind he allowed himself to believe that he wasn’t alone with that realisation of his feelings.
Your response therefore came as nothing less but a surprise to him. “I don’t like saying it, but you are more than right, Leclerc”, you said with a smirk before you pulled yourself up a little and leaned into his face.
Charles laid one of his hands on your cheek before he flipped the two of you around so that you were laying underneath him again. He wasted no time in kissing you with anything he could give to you, trying to pour all his emotions into the kiss.
“Please be mine”, he mumbled against your lips.
“I’m already yours”, you replied breathlessly.
—————
Ahhh nervous for your reactions but oh please let me know what you think <333 I enjoyed writing this so much and aww I fell in love with Charles and Y/n here
here I’m tagging everyone who asked for a second part in the comments, I hope you don’t mind or else let me know!
@tempo-rary-fix @spicyclover @charlesswife @oscarissacsslut @dakotali @celine-xox @mysticalnightenthusiast @formulas-bitch @basicallyherondale @shyshva @teenagedreams-cl
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papa-m0thman · 1 year
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I actually really like the idea of a Scooby Doo prequel centered around the Mystery Gang before they became friends.
Velma is your typical nerd who's interested in true crime. She started off solving small mysteries around her neighborhood, like where someone's missing cat went or who stole someone's bike. Then, some sort of really big mystery happens that the police completely overlook. Maybe students are ending up dead or missing or something like that.
She goes to the same school as Fred, Daphne, and Shaggy, but never talked to them due to personal assumptions. Fred is a popular jock, and a lot of his teammates bully Velma and force her to do their homework for them, so she doesn't trust him either. Daphne is a pretty rich girl who hangs out with a group of mean girls who also make fun of girls like Velma. Even though Fred's group and Daphne's group overlap, the two of them have never really spoken to one another before. Then, there's Shaggy who always shows up to school late, never knows the answer to teachers' questions, and sleeps through half of his classes.
Eventually, one of Daphne's friends get kidnapped. So, one night, she sneaks into the school to find some clues at the same time as Velma. Fred's there because he forgot his uniform, and Shaggy just likes hanging out at the school to do his homework in peace and quiet. They all team up for a while until security gets involved, and Fred helps them into a speedy getaway as the only one with his driver's license.
With Fred driving them home, the group decides to at least have a temporary team-up. Daphne and Velma have a shared goal, Fred likes having friends for the first time in forever, and Shaggy doesn't want to be the odd man out.
They get closer as they solve the mystery together. Fred isn't a jerk, and is super sweet and amazing at building all sorts of things, especially traps. Shaggy always brings the gang food he made, and eventually introduces them to his talking dog who may or may not be immortal. Daphne invites everyone to her house for sleepovers, helps Velma explore her style in a way that's still comfortable to her, and reveals her endless knowledge about every single person in the entire town.
The mystery gets solved, and the four stays friends. The End :)
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fiona-my-love · 1 year
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I meant general relationship hcs! Can I request for hcs of what they’re like on a date when you're done with my request? Thanks!
What Stolas, Husk, Blitzo, and Alastor are like on dates
Of course! I’ll finish this first since it’s what I thought what you meant originally, so I already made some of it!!
Stolas
- Oh my! You want to go out with him? Well, then he might as well prepare an entire festival for you!!
- But in all seriousness, he’s quite over the top. But at the end of the day, he kind of prefers to stay indoors and just decorate.
- But it’s pretty 50/50, depends on his mood! He’ll either treat you to a fancy restaurant or just decorate his dining hall for you, and end the date off with you two heading to the bedroom. ifykyk
- Despite being a horny bastard, he’s quite the gentleman on dates!
- He’ll always be courteous to you, opening each door for you and paying the bill.
- He’s pretty good at giving compliments, you gotta admit. He knows just how to fluster you!
- But say anything back and he’s lovestruck, beet red, and turned on.
- He thinks you look absolutely ravishing, no matter what you wear! You’re his queen/king/royal, how could you not be stunning?
- Very good with small talk, but he can get burnt out if you don’t talk much. Just make sure to seem interested in him and you’ll have a great time!
Blitzo
- He’s.. quite creative, you have to admit!..
- His dates are rarely something as simple as getting lunch. Nono, he wants them to be memorable.
- So, what’s his idea of memorable? Hmm..
- Sneaking into a horse riding class on earth. Murder. Arson. Treason. Theft. Public indecency.
- So yeah.. have fun with that!
- But at the end of the day, one of his favorite things to do with you is just kick back, relax, order some food, and cuddle on the couch while watching shitty romcoms.
- He doesn’t really care what you guys do, honestly. You guys could literally be sky diving and he’d just be happy to be with you.
*LITERALLY FALLING FROM AN AIRPLANE THATS HUNDREDS OF FEET IN THE SKY*
“OH SHI- Hey, have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?”
- But at the same time, he likes it when dates mean something.
- For example, murdering your ex together!
- But seriously, he loves to just spend time with you in places you went to when you were still in the crushing phase.
Alastor
- Oh boy! He’s quite the gentleman, he’ll take you anywhere you want! It’s not like anyone can turn him down!
- Loves dancing with you, he’d absolutely adore to go on a date where you two just dance to his favorite songs!
- He’s always dressed to the nines! And by that, I mean dressed to the 1900s!
- Not particularly a fan of newer fashion. But hey, he’d be more than happy to fetch you some clothing from his time period if you so wish!
- He spoils you absolutely rotten! You are his one and only, after all!
- Oh, what’s that darling? You’d like some dinner? Why, of course! He’d say, before going on a killing spree, on the search for the perfect meat. Only the finest for his beloved!
- Would absolutely melt if you cooked for him.
- He actually enjoys cooking with you! He’s pretty good at cooking, and by that I mean he’s good at cooking people.
- All in all, he’s a classy guy who likes to show his darling the finer parts of this afterlife!
Husk
- Let’s get one thing straight. He’s just not really all that romantic of a guy.
- But hey, if you want to go out, then who is he to deny you?
- He’d be more than happy to spend some of his hard-earned gambling money to treat you to a lovely dinner at the local bar.
- He’s gotta admit, he loves the way you get so happy whenever you go out together.
- And my god does he love to see you dressed up all fancy, just for him. As much as he is a grump, he’s really fell for you!
- If you go shopping together, he’ll act annoyed when he has to help carry your bags, but if you offer to carry them all by yourself he’d act like you’re asking too much of him.
- He also acts reluctant to spend money on you out of embarrassment, but he refuses to let you pay for anything.
- He may be a bit of a gentleman with you, but that doesn’t mean he’s gotta be happy about it!
- He really likes going to bars with you. Shots on him, obviously.
- To give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s really trying to be a gentleman, but don’t expect him to last more that an hour without getting blackout drunk.
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vivwritesfics · 28 days
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Soo, I have an idea, bear with me, it‘s pretty specific (and slightly self-indulgent) but I think it could be nice
Basically, reader has been with Lando for a while already. She played piano as a child but for whatever reason stopped but when Charles releases his piano songs it inspires her to get back to it and Charles ends up helping her practise and they become really good friends (but honestly purely platonic, maybe even siblings vibes) over it. Cue a little bit of angst when Lando gets worried about his girl spending so much time with another guy. But ta-dah, happy end, it turns out that Charles helped her write a song for Lando as a birthday or anniversary present
I absolutely understand if you don‘t want to write this, I just had a little daydream about it and thought you‘d be the perfect person to write it!
Lots of love for you and your works <3
I made the reader Jules Bianchi's little sister
F1 Masterlist
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Ever since Jules' tragic passing, Charles had felt a certain sense of protectiveness over his little sister. Everybody thought they were going to start dating, that Y/N Bianchi and Charles Leclerc were destined to be together.
Just like her brother, her life was motorsport. She wasn't a driver, that had never been her desire, but she knew everything there was to know about Formula One. She followed Charles around the world like she wanted to with her brother, supporting him like she would have Jules.
She found love at the race track, but not with Charles.
It was 2019, his rookie season when they met. She had been walking through the paddock, making her way to the Ferrari garage, when she bumped into him. In his McLaren shirt and orange hat, nineteen year old Lando Norris was adorable. It took maybe two years before he finally asked her out. They had been happy together ever since.
Something that most people forget when talking about Y/N Bianchi was her love for music. She had been playing since she was a child and it was something she had used to get through her brothers passing.
She could play several different instruments. While Jules was karting, she was practicing violin, piano, and more. But piano was her favourite of them all.
She still practiced regularly, but it was at the back of her mind as life went on.
But then lockdown happened. She and Lando had just started dating, so she was stuck at home in France, left to call him regularly. She called Charles, too, since he was like an older brother to her. As they talked he walked her around his apartment, setting her up against different surfaces as he did something.
"Charles, is that a piano?" She asked as she looked past him.
He took her closer to it, showing her the new piano he had bought over lockdown.
That was what sparked her playing again.
They didn't have much of a chance to practice together after the season started up again. They still showed each other videos they had taken of themselves playing, but they never played together.
Not until just before Lando's 24th birthday.
Actually, it was the summer break, several months before. But she liked being prepared. Lando had been so fucking excited to spend summer break with her, but she had to blow him off, told him to have fun without her.
Instead she was in Monaco with Charles. They were spending a few weeks in his apartment, writing together until they had a song. Charles had booked a studio, where they recorded together.
***
On the day of Lando's birthday he was woken up with a kiss, breakfast, and a good ol' shag.
"I got you something really special this year," she said as she walked in from the bathroom, using a towel to dry her hair. "Do you remember over summer break, when I stayed in Monaco with Charles?"
Lando's expression darkened. "Yeah, I remember," he grumbled. He knew the nature of her relationship with Charles, but he'd also seen what had been said about the two of them.
Sitting beside him, Y/N ran her hands through his hair. "C'mon, Lan, what's up?" She asked, pouting at him.
Lando threw his head back, exposing his throat as he groaned. "I get sent the articles of you and Charles back from before we started dating at least three times a week. And then you spent summer with him in Monaco and-"
Suddenly she put her hand over his mouth, and Lando softly bit her palm. "I was putting together your birthday present in Monaco. That's why I spent the entire summer with him," she said and pulled up her phone.
Lando sat patiently as she pulled out the song she had written for him. He listened to the piano notes she had put together, to the lyrics she had written. It was, to put it simply, beautiful. He could listen to it on repeat for the rest of his life.
"I... holy shit," he said when the song finished. "I fucking love you," He said. "That was incredible."
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shoulmate · 4 months
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Suna left you on the couch this morning with a box of tissues, a bag of cough drops, the largest bottle of water possible, and your phone. Also your charger. Plugged into the nearest outlet, ready for use.
He didn't expect to hear much from you over the day hoping you would sleep, stay hydrated, and generally just relax while you're sick so it's not surprising you haven't texted him at all.
And unsure if you were asleep he didn't call or text to let you know he was on his way home.
He grabbed some soba--cold, for your throat--at the little shop across the street and trudged up three flights of stairs to your shared apartment.
He misses your physical affection and though he understands you think you're doing this to protect him and keep him healthy he needs your cuddles.
Knowing you won't let him drape himself on top of you, scoop you out of whatever chair you're in, or drag you into bed makes a grueling day of training much, much worse.
He's ready for you to be over this cold.
He puts on a brave face, preparing to hold back from tackling your adorable sleeping form and admire your sleeping fa--
You're not sleeping.
He sees you sitting up straight when he opens the door, eyes wide and glassy with an expression of distress and experiences irritation that first
you're not actually resting.
And second, that you haven't text him all despite not resting!
And third,
worry.
What the fuck is wrong!?
"Baby?" he says low as if he's approaching a wild animal.
He closes the door and gently sets the food down, slowly stepping into your line of sight until your eyes blink once, twice and finally focus on him.
"Baby?" He asks again, low and reassuring. "What's wrong?"
"I...I made a terrible mistake."
Suna's stomach drops through the floor and he pumps the brakes on his train of thought before it can hop the tracks and spiral into the worst-case scenarios.
He gulps and looks down at your phone; it's just a bunch of text he can't read from here.
"Okay...just tell me what it is? And maybe I can help...?"
You slowly shake your head, tears starting to spill over. "You can't," you whisper.
Suna ignores the vice closing around his heart. "Just tell me what happened."
You close your eyes, sending tears down your cheeks. "I...I..." Your breath shakes as you arrange the words that all come spilling out at once.
"I picked a new show to watch like you suggested and found one that was really good but it's about a woman who's sent back in time and ends up marrying and falling in love with someone and their love is so good and he's just so good a-a-and pure and he reminds me of you with his charm and his wit and his big muscles and stupidly cute hair!"
So lightheaded with relief he's close to laughing, Suna takes a steadying breath and keeps his composure. "Okay...so...Was your mistake being attracted to the actor-"
"No!" you spit, eyes angrily flashing open. "He was only appealing because of how similar he was to you."
Holding his breath that he's approaching this situation properly Suna gently encourages "then it was..."
You look at him, bottom lip quivering and crying, voice scratchy and rough from coughing and admit "there's seven seasons of it. And the seventh is still in production!
"A-and it's based on a bunch of books so I looked up the series and there's nine books in the series, Rin! And the author's writing a tenth!"
Suna pieces it together in that moment but you continue, not realizing he already understands.
You sob. "I don't know if they'll end up together or not!"
Cautiously approaching the couch Suna gently asks "how does the ninth book end? And has the author given a little taste of what the tenth will be about?"
"Yes," you weep with a disdainful gesture at your phone, "it'll be about the two of them again."
"So they're still together?" Suna's at the edge of the couch now.
You nod, noisily blowing your nose. "Yes but will they still be together by the end of it!?"
"Hey, hey," Suna soothingly coos as he gingerly sits down next to you. "Baby? Look at me..."
You turn your snotty, tear-stained face toward him and he softly cups your jaw.
"Think of it this way... they've survived nine books together."
"And a bunch of novellas!" you defensively add.
"And a bunch of novellas!" He tenderly strokes your cheek. "See? There's nothing that can keep them apart now."
"But-"
"And even if something did...that's what fanfiction is for...right, baby?"
You start to catch your breath and nod.
"They're going to be together forever okay? Just like you and me" he assures you, knowing this is what you were really upset about all along.
You sniffle and let him pull you into a hug, immediately sagging into his warmth and safety.
Gambling big he slowly lays down still holding you tightly and discretely slips under the covers.
You sigh and snuggle against him. "You know one of the seasons ends like this..."
"Like what?"
"Jamie and Claire in each other's arms...And he asks her how she's feeling or something and after a beat she just says...safe."
"Yeah?" He lets out a breath chuckle. "How are you feeling right now?"
"Better." You hum contentedly for a moment before-- "wait a minute."
Suna feigns ignorance as you pull back as far as you can in his arms.
"Rin!" you snap and try to shove him away but he's immovable. "Stop! It! Get out of here or your going to get sick?"
"Too late." He smirks deviously and squishes you back against his chest elated that your squirms of protest quickly taper off.
"Rin," you whine.
"Nope. I'm already in it," he says with a smug wriggle deeper into the couch. "Just like...what were their names? Claire and Jamie? We're in this together babe."
You make a weak sound of irritation and shake your head. A moment later you relent and settle into him.
It's only a few minutes later that your body falls slack with sleep and he can cradle you freely.
Now you both have what you need:
each other.
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faerynova · 1 year
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PIGLIN BRAIDS
some of my personal lore/ideas for piglins!
hair is incredibly important in piglin culture, and you essentially display your life and who you are and your connections to others through your braids and jewelry
some more details/thoughts under the cut:
about a decade after philza and techno became friends, philza and techno were stuck in the nether when philza was injured (source of his bad leg) and they had to get help from a local bastion. they ended up befriending people and stayed there for about 150-200 years before they finally left, but every few hundred years they go back to spend a few decades there. they also go back specifically whenever philza and trixtin want to have children.
techno has 2 studs in his ear that philza doesn't--they're actually the earrings of his OLD/first sounder which doesn't exist anymore.
a lot of occupations are lumped together--philza's braid specifically means "builder", which refers to architects, artists, smiths, sculptors, and other professions of the same speed.
god/worship braids are meant to be knotted into your hair and stay there until your hair grows out and you have to redo the beads. each commonly recognized god has their own bead patterns, though eut'oob (i yoinked the name from a fic and i dont remember which one aaa if anyone in the notes remembers ill credit it) is a surface god and techno made up his own braid pattern for him because he isnt worshipped in the nether.
piglins have matesprit, moirail, and kismesis jewelry >:] iykyk. emduo are moirails cant change my mind. (techno had kismesis chains/jewelry for squid but that was a long time ago--squid died of old age)
word braiders are a highly valued part of piglin society. the reason it's a piercing and not a braid is because you have to be gifted a nose ring and be approved to get a piercing by another master word braider to show that you're qualified to call yourself one. you can't just put in a braid and call it a day.
wilbur grew up in a bastion till he was like 14/15 but he ended up chopping all of his hair off when he was a teen. techno is the one who gave him his nose ring when he was 17.
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thats all i can think of have a nice day <3
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