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totalswag · 9 months

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how much did you drink? — RAFE CAMERON

authors note hi loves!! i know i disappeared for awhile, my personal life got extremely busy and i never had time to write on my computer. i'm so excited to be back and writing for you guys though. this fic has been in my google doc for small minute and i got a request from an anon somewhat similar to this fic too, lol.

summary y/n getting a little too drunk at a party and rafe has to come pick her up

warnings drinking, swearing, smoking, sexual tension, implied smut?

Lets face it, you were drunk, like really drunk.

You made the decision to come out on a Saturday night with Sarah to John B’s. People dancing, making out everywhere, smoking, drinking, along with loud music.

As the night progressed you were on the table dancing with your best friend with bottles of tequila in your hands, everyone cheering you two on as you continued dancing.

“I’m having so much fun tonight” your words are slurring at this point.

“Me too,” your friend giggled.

Topper and Kelce shook their heads while they stood near the kitchen. Rafe, your boyfriend, told Topper and Kelce to watch you simply because he wasn't at the party.

“She's about to do something dumb” Topper murmurs, and Kelce nods in agreement.

Kelce replies, "I think it's time we called Rafe."

Topper calls Rafe, while Kelce tries to get you off the table but fails when you say no and to go away so you can drink more. Kelce turns around, sending Topper the clear message that Rafe needs to arrive as quickly as possible.

"Yo, Rafe, sorry for bothering you, but Y/N is really drunk and dancing on the table, and she won't listen to us" Topper scratched his chin, glancing at Kelce, who was attempting to get you off the table.

"Are you being serious?" Rafe must have been in a deep sleep based on the sound of his voice.

"Yeah, could you pick her up?" He begs.

Topper can hear Rafe's end shifting, "I'll be there soon, just keep an eye on here, please." Rafe sighs and hangs up the phone.

Meanwhile, Topper and Kelce were eventually able to get you off the table by claiming a drinking game was about to begin, which was correct. You stood in the kitchen with the guys and few other friends watching while others set out the red solo cups on the board.

Your friends came into the kitchen to see what you were doing and they were worried about you because they couldn’t find you.

"These two have me on lock down so I don't drink anymore but oddly waiting to play a drinking game," you add, staring at the girls before wandering your gaze over to Kelce and Topper, who are in the middle of a conversation with a few of their buddies.

Your friends laugh, shaking their heads, telling you, you should still be drinking and having fun.

"I'm so drunk right now, it's not even funny," you hiccuped as your body swayed back and forth, almost knocking you off your feet.

Topper leaned over the counter, grabbing you before you fell.

"Y/N, please drink the water," he says as he puts the water bottle out to you, you look at him, shaking your head as you push it away with your hand.

"Drink the water now, Y/N, we're going home," your boyfriend said, filling your ears. You circle around, placing your arms around his waist, excited.

"You guys are no fun," you scoff.

"That hangover isn't going to be fun in the morning," Rafe responds.

“How much did you drink baby?” he asks, lifting your chin up, making eye contact with you.

“I drank a lot and smoked too” you answered truthly, hiccuping.

"You are so hot, I could just fu-" you run your hands down his stomach, removing his shirt a little and gliding your hands on his exposed skin. Rafe stopped you before you could complete your sentence.

Usually when you drink too much and Rafe’s around you get very touchy with him and start saying unholy words from your mouth which leads to fucking or you need to really sober up. You can’t stop but think of how good he looks right now.

Rafe comes to these types of parties with you but tonight he wasn’t feeling it. He trusts you going to parties with your friends or the guys cause he knows you would never do anything that can hurt your relationship.

"All right, that's enough for the night. "Seriously, drink the water," he says, twisting the cap and handing you the water to sip. You realized nothing else would work, so you drank the water.

Rafe watched as you drank the water. When you get this drunk no one else can handle you unless it’s Rafe because he’s been around you enough to know. Your best friends get drunk with you so them being drunk trying to help you too doesn’t make the situation better.

When you finished the water, you wrapped your arms around Rafe, nuzzling your face in his chest mumbling words. He took it as a sign that you were ready to leave the party.

“We’ll walk you two out” Topper suggested to Rafe.

“Yeah that would be helpful, thank you” picking you up in braid style.

You lifted your head from Rafe's chest, confused as to why he began guiding you from the kitchen to the front door. "Why are we leaving?" you asked as you pulled away. "I want to stay," you protest, pointing back to your friends.

Rafe sighs, closing his eyes, "baby you are drunk and have been drinking a lot" he pauses, "you need to rest too" you pout.

“Say goodnight to them real quick,”

When you walk back to the kitchen your friends eye’s light up but faces drop when you tell them you were saying goodnight. They told you to be safe and see you tomorrow.

“I better get dick out of this” you sarcastically state, making the girls laugh.

“I love you girls” you wave as you leave the kitchen.

You flip Rafe off as you walk past him, giving him a blank stare. He throws his hands in the air, shaking his head, then follows you out the door.

The car ride to his house took five minutes. You were knocked out in the passenger seat curled up in a ball. You woke up when you felt the truck come to a complete stop. Rafe opened the door, carrying you inside.

You start singing a song from the party when you enter the Cameron household. Rafe chuckled as he locked the door then came behind you.

“You need to stay quiet because everyone's sleeping,” Rafe whispered softly.

“Oh my bad” you quickly stop, putting your hand over your mouth.

He lays you on his bed and goes in his closet for clothes for you. He comes back with sweats and one of your favorite t-shirts of his. Before you could lift your shirt, he stopped you.

“Let me do it please” he kisses your cheek.

He led you into the bathroom to remove your makeup and then dab water on your face to freshen it up before taking you into bed. When you spent the night, there was Advil and ice water on your side of the bed.

Rafe could tell you were still drunk by your facial expressions.

In your drunken state, seeing the Advil and water on the nightstand warms your heart, "Thank you baby," you look up, then pop the Advil in your mouth and take a long sip of the water.

"Need to make sure my girl is okay," he grins.

"How about we get into bed and sleep?" He then pulls you both into bed.

You quickly close your eyes when your head makes contact with his chest.

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irisintheafterglow · 7 months

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the first time you tell opla!zoro that you love him, you're not sober either. (part one here!)

"i just-i just don't know what to do," you sniffle, another wave of emotions leaking through your tired eyes and onto your tear-stained shirt. "i'm so in love with him it makes me physically ill, nami."

"mhmm, i can tell," she replies absentmindedly, taking another sip from her drink in the musty light of the bar.

"nami," you plead, wasted out of your mind with your cheek pressed against the dirty table.

"sweetheart," she replies with the same melodrama, unable to hide the amusement in her voice.

"i'm so sad." your voice breaks on the last word and you make a loud hiccup-like noise that has the other guests of the bar eyeing you warily. you couldn't guess how long it'd been since you dragged nami from her hammock to go drink your sorrows away. to her credit, she stayed with you until her patience was thinner than a paper cut.

"i know you are," she says slowly after you'd gone over the same topic about four times in the last five minutes. "look, i feel like you should just tell him. he already told you his feelings."

"see, but that's the thing." she shoots you a skeptical look and you sigh back at her. "what if he's lying? or if he didn't actually mean it?"

"why would he lie about something so significant as that?"

"i don't know, maybe he thought i was someone else-"

"from what you've very thoroughly informed me, he expressed his feelings for you, and only you," she reminds you, tilting her glass toward you for emphasis. her gaze flicks up behind you and she raises her eyebrows briefly, like whoever was approaching was another tool for her entertainment. "tell him. it's now or never."

"what the hell do you-"

"you're out of your mind if you think it's okay to get them drunk before a mission." his voice immediately sobers you, white-hot shame coursing through your veins as you sit up and try to make yourself look presentable. thankfully, he's glaring daggers into nami, who merely shrugs and offers something about being here for a good time, not a long time. "c'mon, i'm taking you back to the ship," he mutters, lifting you from your seat and letting you grab his unfairly strong bicep for stability.

"why'd you come get me?" your steps wobble slightly on the cobblestone, but zoro's determination to keep you upright is unwavering. "i could have gone home with nami."

"i got worried about where you were. thought something happened."

"nothing happened except alcohol and feelings," you drawl absentmindedly, the airy feeling in your mind becoming fuzzier the longer you're with him.

"ah, two of my favorite things."

"liar, you only talk about your feelings when you're drunk." blinking slowly to recenter yourself, you cut him off before he can counter your accusation. "like, the other night. when you told me you loved me." the words slip out unplanned and his body becomes deathly still next to you, his arm so tense you could mine it with a pickaxe.

"i said...what?"

"that you loved me and that it was a secret," you say plainly, glancing at him to find his face a nearly imperceptible shade of pink. "what's with the blush?"

"it's nothing," he says quietly. sober you would have left the conversation at that, respecting his need for privacy and security about his private feelings.

drunk you, however, has no such manners.

"look at you, all red and shit." his ears become an even deeper shade of pink and you can't help laughing at his poor attempt to hide his embarrassment. "you wouldn't be so flushed if it was actually nothing, so what is it?"

"it's nothing," he restates. "it doesn't matter."

"it matters to me. you matter to me." his face feels like it's been set on fire and every place your body is making contact with his feels like an electric current. did you have any idea what your words were doing to him, he wondered. sure, what you said made his brain go foggy like the island coastline in the morning, but what you made him feel was so much worse. you made him feel so lovesick, it pained him.

"the sentiment is reciprocated," he murmurs low enough that you can barely hear him. even while you're dancing around in the streetlights, you've never looked so beautiful to him.

"can i tell you a secret?" he swallows thickly, unsure of how to continue navigating this situation. he settles for nodding, every movement restrained to keep from kissing you until the only oxygen in his lungs has gone through yours first. "you can't tell anyone, though."

"i'm a great secret keeper."

"no, you're not," you reply instantly and his mouth gapes indignantly. "you told me your biggest secret and you don't even remember it."

"fine. i won't tell anyone what you tell me, then. i don't know about anyone else," he promises. after what seemed like an eternity, he finally helps you into your hammock, taking great care to make sure you don't fall out. "if i do tell someone, you can kick me in the balls."

"enticing offer," you laugh and his mouth quirks in a half-smile that you only saw once in a blue moon.

"so, the secret?"

"oh, right," you whisper sleepily. "the secret is that i love you too. i love you so much that i want to throw up."

"i think that might be the alcohol, doll," he murmurs, his fingers gently brushing your cheek. "sober you and sober me need to have a long talk in the morning."

"we said that last time but didn't do shit about it."

"well, i think it's time i did something about it." your eyebrows furrow, completely forgetting anything you'd just talked about. it's okay, he figures. he'll show you how much you mean to him when you're both ready.

"did something about what?"

"how much i love you, too."

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#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece fluff #zoro fluff #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa #roronoa zoro #opla!zoro x you #opla!zoro x reader #opla!zoro x y/n

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agaypanic · 3 months

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Regina's Barbie Part 2

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Summary: After giving you a makeover, Regina takes you to a party. She hates the attention you’re getting and decides to make it clear that you’re not available.

A/N: sorry for not posting in a million years (4 days). my first regina fic got a lot of love and some people wanted a part 2, so here it is!

***

You had been to a few high school parties in your life, but you had never been to one thrown by one of the most popular kids in school. So you weren’t too surprised to see everyone throwing you looks when you walked in, especially when Regina George was clinging to your arm to make sure you didn’t stray too far from her. You may have been dressed in the girl’s clothes with stellar makeup, but everyone could tell you were an outsider.

“Relax,” Regina whispered in your ear, and you had to keep yourself from shuddering at the chill that ran down your spine.

She pulled you over to a counter that was filled with different drinks, figuring you wouldn’t be able to stand this party sober any longer. You didn’t ask Regina what she had put in the cup she handed to you; you were too busy gulping the strong liquid down.

“Oh my god, I’ll be right back,” Regina said, seemingly distracted as she looked across the room in disgust. “I think Gretchen’s trying to hook up with Jason, that skeez!”

Then you were on your own. It pissed you off a bit, Regina dragging you to this party just to leave you alone. But you decided to brush it off, pouring yourself another drink and gravitating towards a wall. Soon enough, she’d be back for you, and you could get through this night.

“Hey there!” Some guy appeared next to you, making you flinch in surprise. You recognized him from hallways and assemblies but didn’t know his name. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Are you new or something?”

“Nope.” You laugh, putting the cup to your lips as you thought of something else to say. “I usually don’t have time for parties, but a friend wanted me to come.”

“Well, whoever your friend is, I’ll have to thank them.” Anyone else in your position might have giggled at the attention this objectively attractive guy was giving you. But in all honesty, you were too busy wondering when Regina was coming back to you. “Wanna dance, hottie?”

“No thanks.” You respond, eyes darting to the other side of the room, where Regina seemed to be reprimanding and chasing away the boy that Gretchen had been talking to. You wondered if she’d turn around to face you if you stared at her hard enough. “I’m kind of with someone here.” It wasn’t entirely true, at least not in the way he might’ve taken it. But you were trying your best to get this stranger to back off.

“Did this someone give you that kiss mark?” You flinched when he touched your cheek, smudging the lip print that Regina had planted on you just an hour or so before. It made you mad for some reason, and not just because this man touched your face without asking. “I bet I can give you a better one.”

“Oh my god, get away from her, Travis!” A venomous voice sounded, and you were grateful to see Regina standing next to you, giving Travis a sneer that almost made her perfect face seem not so perfect. “Can’t you see she wants nothing to do with you?”

Travis took a step back, throwing his hands up in surrender. Then he squinted, eyes darting between your face and Regina’s lips before he let out a small chuckle.

“Lemme guess…” He said, turning back to you while pointing at the blonde. “Is this who you’re with?”

Regina answered before you could even think of a response.

“Yeah, she is. So go find someone else to try to blow you; she’s taken.”

With that, Travis left, cheeks reddened with slight embarrassment and drunkenness. You were still stuck on Regina’s last sentence when she grabbed your chin, turning your head to face her. She inspected your cheek, seemingly disappointed at the state her once pristine kiss mark was now in.

“You’d think that he’d see this and take a hint.” She muttered, not letting go of your face.

“And what hint would he be getting from it?” You asked, feeling shy. Even more so when Regina’s eyes started staring into yours. “Asking, you know, just out of curiosity.”

“Are you serious?” She asked, raising a brow. You gulped down the rest of your drink so you wouldn’t have to respond. But even when you were done, and your cup was thrown into a nearby trash can, Regina seemed to still be waiting for a response.

“Just a bit…” You replied.

Regina scoffed, stepping closer to you. If that was even possible. You gulped at the extremely close proximity, trying to not look down at her lips.

“Guess I have to make it clear to everyone that you’re mine.”

Regina used both hands to cup your face and pull you towards her. You made a slight noise of surprise as she pressed her lips to yours, but you were quick to return the kiss after the initial shock wore off. People must have been watching Regina George kissing some girl they’d probably never seen before. But for a moment, it felt like only you and Regina were in this hot and crowded room.

When she pulled back, Regina smirked at your stunned expression, clearly still reeling from the kiss.

“Everyone, including you.” She said, kissing you once more before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the living room to show you off some more.

***

Regina George Taglist: @wedfan2

#agaypanic #regina george x reader #regina george #rachel mcadams x reader #rachel mcadams #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #mean girls #mean girls x reader

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scudevils · 3 months

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jersey boy — JM6

pairing: john marino x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), swearing, slight degradation, praise, semi-public, like slight voyeurism, established relationship, not proofread!!

synopsis: he just looked too hot not to fuck at the stadium series [<1k]

a/n: completely self indulgent whilst i was in the middle of writing the barzy fic which is why its so short 😭

they were riding the high from the win, nico and nate getting two goals each, john getting his 100th career win and of course a devils win, what wasn't there to celebrate?

that sentiment was how you found yourself now, johns lips pressed against your pulse point, leaving wet red marks in their wake, your gasps bouncing off the confined walls of the bar bathroom. you barely keep your hands off of him, how could you when he looked that fucking good?

"john-" you thread your fingers through his hair, the curls he was beginning to free recently not doing well to help your obsession with pulling on the dark strands, a breathy moan falling from your lips in the sound of his name.

eventually you managed to get him to detach his lips from your neck, instead slotting over your own, your back pressed against the sink counter, john's hands wandering your body as if for the first time, pawing at the clothes he earlier deemed too little and now far too much. "you gonna let me fuck you here, hm?" his hand ran down the side of your cheek, taunting you, a mocking tone to his words.

"please." your voice was just above a whisper, shame seeping into your words, the realisation that his friends, his teammates, were just outside and could interrupt at any moment, hear you at any moment.

"gonna need you to be real quiet, okay?" his hands found home on your hips, lifting you up onto the counter, your back pressed against the cool glass, goosebumps rising on your legs as the bottom of your dressed had already bunched up below your waist. “don’t want them to hear you do you?” shaking your head, he smiled.

he was quick to undo the belt around his waist, pushing down the trousers he was wearing enough to free himself, tip already leaking pre-cum, begging for you to touch him. "wait." john's eyes snapped up to meet yours, worry pooling in them, nearly sobering him up with the fear he'd done something or that you were having second thoughts. "wanna touch you, please."

"you can touch me whenever you fucking want to, baby." he groaned, watching the way you dropped your feet back onto the bar floor, and the way your eyes never left him as you got down onto your knees in front of him, the subconscious act of licking your lips driving him fucking crazy.

there was something about the way he towered over you when you were on your knees that turned you on like nothing else, knowing he could manhandle your body like a rag doll if he wanted to, fuck yeah you wanted him to do that to you. your hand stroked lazily, feeling him harden in your hand and he sucked in a breath when you swiped your thumb over his tip.

swirling your tongue around the tip, a groan fell from his lips, joined by a chorus of swear words when you took him fully in your mouth, his hand immediately finding the back of your hair and forming a makeshift ponytail, preventing you from moving as his hips moved to meet your own movement. "just like that, shit."

you managed to look up, seeing just the underside of his neck as his head lolled back, eyes screwed shut. the sound of you gagging only egged him on, his thrusts becoming harsher, tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. moaning around him, the vibrations ran through his whole body, feeling his thigh clenching under the hand you used for support.

"don't stop, fucking don't." john was doing most of the movement now, holding your head still as he fucked into your mouth, using you for his own pleasure. "so good to me-" you can feel his cock twitching in your mouth, always a tell tale sign that he was close, all it taking was pushing your head down till he repeatedly hit the back of your throat for him to release down it, keeping you there so nothing spills.

john intertwined his fingers with your own, lifting you up from your knees and giving you a few seconds to recovers before his lips were back on yours, softer this time, like he was in less of a rush. “looked so good today johnny.” you spoke against his lips, pulling them between yours before he could reply.

a knock at the door broke you apart, words you couldn’t quite make out but you knew the gist of what they were saying, and you were thoroughly embarrassed they totally knew what was going on.

“gonna have to wait till we get home to show me just how how good i looked then huh?” john’s voice broke into a small laugh, the first of you to leave the bathroom as he let you touch up the makeup on your face that had been completely ruined, mascara pooled at the corner of your eyes.

#john marino #john marino smut #john marino blurb #john marino fluff #john marino imagine #john marino x reader #john marino imagines #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #hockey smut #hockey blurb #scudevils

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inkdrinkerworld · 4 months

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Omg coming home drunk and dealer Remus having to look after you even when you’re all over him and he’s surprised because you’re usually all shy and reserved! 🤭

“Remus, open the door,” your voice carries through the wood of the door and you hear a couple clicks and twists before it opens.

Remus is greeted with a very drunk you being held up by your friends. “Hi, dovey,” he reaches for your waist and you tip yourself forward into him.

“I had the best night,” you say and Remus looks to your friends.

“She’s had a bit of everything,” Remus nods.

“You good to get home?” He asks them, ready to offer your spare bedroom up to them.

Remus’ hands become more firm on your waist when you start twisting and wiggling in his hold- desperately trying to climb him.

“Yeah, Lily’s the designated driver. See you Lupin!”

The moment the door shuts, you’re deadweight in his hands.

“What did you girls do?” You shrug, reaching for his face. Your hands a cold and your manicured nails look sharp against his face but your hold is delicate.

“Kiss?” You pucker but Remus only presses his lips into your cheek. “Not like that,” you mumble, trying to pull his face closer to yours.

“Dove,” he pats your bum, steering you to the sofa with firm hands. “Sit down so I can get you something to drink, yeah?”

“No thanks, can I have a kiss? On the lips?” Remus shakes his head, and leans over to kiss you.

“There. Will you have some water now?” You nod, linking your fingers together and standing when he moves to walk away.

“Sit still, baby,” he laughs when you whine and link your fingers harder together. “Alright, you’re not gonna be pleased when I tell you of your love sickness in the morning.”

“I’m pleased right now,” you flirt. For a shy thing, Remus thinks, you really can put the moves on.

“I bet,” he sits you on the counter. “Are you hungry, dove?”

“Call me baby,” you lean your head on his shoulder, “Like it when you call me baby.”

Remus coos, “Are you hungry, baby?” You shake your head.

“Can I have orange juice instead of water?”

“You can’t, sorry,” Remus hears you mutter about how he’s so ‘mean for someone so pretty’ and stores it away in the list of things that he’s going to tease sober you about.

He holds the cup of water to your lips and watch as you guzzle it down. “Hey,” you say as he pulls the glass away and water dribbles down your chin and dress.

“Now I’ve got to undress,” Remus smiles.

“You always would’ve, not letting you sleep in your dress.”

“You just wanted to get me naked.” You hiccup through the words as Remus helps you down the counter.

“Don’t think I’d have made your dress wet with water for that, baby.” You giggle madly at his flirting and lead the way to the bedroom with more swing in your hips than necessary.

“You only act coy, Remus.”

“Oh sure I do,” he keeps his hands out to catch you if you misstep. “Do you want me to take off your make up or do you have that bit covered?”

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #dealer!remus #dealer!remus lupin

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alexa-fika · 2 months

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hi! Do you mind writing something with a 3y/o child reader and the white beard pirates? Like specifically everyone is celebrating something, and then child reader slips and gets hurt and starts sobbing really loud and all the pirates are panicking?

Parties and Falls (Whitebeard pirates x male!reader)

A/N here we go! And along with this being a request I also wanted to dedicate it to @henrioo since I saw you were feeling down because of the lack of male readers out there and I wanted to cheer you up, this is not one of my best works but im hoping I can make more pieces so that you and all the male readers out there can enjoy and feel included!

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which means reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

With a Yonko as a captain and one such as infamous as Whitebeard, one who was able to fight on equal ground with the Pirate King Himself, people usually thought of the Whitebeard pirates as a fearsome foe, and although it was true that you would not want them as foe, behind all that lied a close knitted family who all enyoyed one thing, partirs

With a whole bunch of pirates who could drink whole barrels of alcohol, they are the kind of crew that would throw whole week-long parties with everyone involved, and that was the case right now

Dokucha was not the exception. He always had a grand time when all his brothers were brought together on such a happy occasion

He wiggled his way around his brothers to reach the bar where Ace was currently sitting, struggling slightly to climb the top of the stool.

“Ace-nii, can I drink some of that too?” The boy asked, pointing to one of the pints the flame user was currently downing

“Sorry, lighting bug, you can’t have this.”

He pouts, leaning his head on the counter

“But everyone is having it!”

He chuckles

“Sorry, Dokucha, tell you what, how about you ask Thatch to prepare you something? I'm sure he can whip up something delicious for you.”

The boy lights up at that

“Really?!” He beams, the grin on his face quickly returning

“Yes, really, and make sure to thank him. He should be on the kitchen.”

“Okay!” He exclaimed, excited at the promise of a beverage; however, it was in his excitement that he forgot he was on top of a stool; losing his balance, he fell to the ground, the sound of the chair hitting the wood below being drowned by the cries of the child, the crew quickly sobering up at the sound

The entire crew looked down at the small child who was now crying on the ground; some were already rushing to get to him

Izou was the first to reach the small boy, picking him up and giving him a hug, trying to calm him down

He wraps his hands around his brother, their cries still ringing around the Moby Dick

“H-Hey Dokucha, hey, hey, don’t cry, lighting bug, it’s okay. We’re going to take care of you,” Ace reassures him, gently patting the head of the boy

“It hurts!” He cries

“Where does it hurt?” Ace asks as Marco makes his way over to the two

Thatch follows behind, rushing over

He simply points to his hands, small scratches littering them from their fall to the floor

Marco sighs, igniting his flames and holding Dokucha’s hands, healing all the small scratches. However, this did not lessen the cries of the small boy as tears rolled down his cheeks, hiccups escaping him.

“Buttercup, you’re okay. Look, see, your hands are all better now,” Vista says, joining his brothers in trying to calm down their youngest frowning when he shook his head and dug his head deeper into Izou’s shoulder as he continued crying and screaming

Whitebeard, who so far had been watching the whole ordeal play out, stepped in, gesturing at Izou to hand him over, who obliged

Whitebeard smiled gently at the crying boy in his hand

“There, There was that scary?”

He nods

“Y-yeah, and it hurt.”

“Well, you are alright now; look at you; there isn’t a scratch on you now.”

He cries, looking at his hands, and just as he had told him, there were no marks on his hands

“Breath in and out for me, yes, just like that, see you are okay.”

He sniffles, rubbing his eyes dry

“It was really scary.”

“It was scary, huh?” he says with a soft smile

“You feel better now?”

He nods smiling

“Thank you, PaPaw”

Again it’s not my best works but I really hope you enyoyed and @henrioo I really hope this was able to cheer you up a little, and I will try to write more male!reader from now on!

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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wqnwoos · 6 months

Text

“oh my god, i’ve literally been looking for you everywhere!”

your sentence wouldn’t come as a surprise to minghao if he actually knew who you were. but one look at you, beaming at him under the dim bar lights, tells him everything: he’s never seen you in his life.

and somehow, you seem to be convinced that the two of you are best of friends. you’re sliding onto the empty bar stool next to him — not too close, not enough to make him uncomfortable, but close enough to make it seem like you guys are here together. and you’re not. because he came with jun and dino and soonyoung, who are currently in the midst of the crowded dance floor.

slowly, after one long look — just to be sure — minghao speaks. “i’m sorry,” he says, finally. “do i know you?”

you don’t even answer the question, you just start laughing: clearly, you’re absolutely wasted. “don’t be silly,” you giggle, and it’s kind of the best sound minghao’s ever heard, but that really isn’t his priority right now.

you wave the bartender over before he can stop you. “hiiii,” you sing, to the slightly bemused dude behind the counter. “can i get — ”

“water,” minghao chips in quickly, casting a concerned eye over your swaying body. “get them some water, please.”

it doesn’t take long, and yet in the short space of time, your energy completely fades. one second you’re bobbing your head to the thumping bass; the next second, your eyes are drooping, and you look moments away from slumping over the counter in exhaustion.

“are you good?” minghao says, sudden alarm seeping into his voice; he does not want to be responsible for someone passing out, and so he twists open the water bottle, handing it to you and watching dubiously as you gulp it down.

“did you know,” you announce, once you’ve finished, “that cows have best friends?”

(minghao doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it really wasn’t that.)

still, he can’t help the amusement that exudes from his voice. “oh, yeah?”

“yes!” you say, with sudden, renewed enthusiasm. “someone told me they feel sad when their best friends aren’t around, too. isn’t that just cool?”

“sure,” he humours you, partly because your excitement about this is kind of sweet, and partly because he’s glancing around the bar to see if anyone’s looking for you. “hey, did you come here alone?”

you wave a vague hand to your right. “i think karina and jaehyun are over there. somewhere.”

your indifference is both entertaining and a little concerning. “okay, can i call one of them for you?”

you pout — you actually pout. “i haven’t told you about the seahorses yet!”

and minghao doesn’t know whether to laugh or not, because this is one of the strangest predicaments he’s ever been put in, but there’s something about you — he can’t put his finger on it. he just knows that you look gorgeous, even drunk under shitty lighting, and something that feels suspiciously like butterflies churns in his stomach when he looks at you.

but you still seem a little drunk, and so minghao orders you another water, opening the bottle for you again. he watched as you drink it down, idly wondering whether the sparkles in your eyes are from the alcohol, or if they’re always there. (he thinks he’d like to find out.)

you let him call karina then, and when she picks up (“oh my god, finally, ___, where have you been?”) minghao finally learns your name. he repeats it over and over inside his head; he’s going to remember this one.

“i guess you’re a little more sober,” he notices, a few moments after hanging up with your friend — he can tell, by the clarity dawning in those pretty eyes, and the embarrassed smile that takes over your face.

you drop your face into your hands, as though you’re recalling what you’ve said. “oh my god,” you groan into your palms, “i am — i am so sorry.”

he really can’t help the laugh that spills from his lips. even your embarrassment is endearing. “you’re fine,” he assures, trying to restrain his smile. “i had a great time, actually.”

your face is still twisted into a mortified grimace, and your words trip over each other, garbled in your flustered state. “i — i mean, thank you, but i really — oh my god.”

“i was thinking,” minghao says, waving your phone — it’s still in his hand. “you could tell me about those seahorses. over coffee, maybe.”

you look at him with wonder in your eyes — “i mean. are you sure?”

“i’m sure,” he replies, the smallest of smirks pulling at his lips, “if you are.”

you say yes, and minghao thinks he hasn’t smiled this wide for a while. and just as he’s finishing typing his number into your phone, a girl he can only assume is karina appears.

there are hurried goodbyes, and a quick promise from you to text him — which you clinch by linking your pinky with his, and that only seals it for him. it’s early, and maybe the few sips of alcohol have gone to his head, but he thinks something special is going to happen.

and when he hears your hushed, humiliated whisper as you leave (“rina, i told him about the cows.”), he thinks the something special has already happened, and it’s hit him out of nowhere. like a tornado. or a hurricane, or a comet, or you.

an / requested by anon and the prompt was SOOO cute i giggled reading it but i feel like i fucked it up writing it 😭 i rewrote it three times and it still doesn’t feel right GAHH

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

#minghao scenarios #minghao fluff #minghao comfort #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #minghao imagines #minghao x reader #minghao x you #minghao drabbles #minghao seventeen #minghao au

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imfinereallyy · 21 days

Text

I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 3

a nice long update for ya ♡ part 1 part 2

cw: internalized homophobia and projecting internalized homophobia (from an oc)

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve's first steps into his living room are not met with silence and sunshine; in fact, he is met with two surprises.

The first being Eddie Munson still in his apartment.

Steve rubs the tired out of his eyes, squishing his palm into his lids in hopes of shaking out a morning delusion. He is proven unsuccessful..

His second surprise is that Eddie is awake, staring at Steve in high alert, blankets folded neatly (he must have scrounged around for them in the night, not that Steve minds), sitting patiently as if he has been waiting for hours for Steve's arrival.

If the second surprise hadn't happened, Steve might have excused the first. See, Eddie, in all the years he had known him, had been anything but an early riser, usually choosing to sleep the day away. So if he had been asleep still, Steve might have let him being in his apartment slide.

Steve ponders how he doesn't really know Eddie anymore, so he shouldn't actually be surprised.

Eddie clears his throat, "So, how about that talk?"

Steve has to resist shutting his eyes to relish in the sound of Eddie's deep timbre. His voice has grown scratchy over the years—from singing or cigarettes, Steve can't be sure. It feels like coming home, either way, to have his voice brush over him.

Instead, Steve clears his throat back. "Don't have time; maybe try again in another five years." He moves to the kitchen to start making their morning drinks—hot coffee with cream for Robin and an iced dirty chai for Steve.

When Dustin had been working at a cafe back when he was in college, he made Steve try all of their new drinks. Surprisingly his favorite became a dirty chai—something which Robin finds hilarious.

Steve grabs the chipped green mug from the cabinet and begins pouring Robin's coffee. It had already been hot and ready in the pot, which probably meant Eddie had prepped it for him. Steve doesn't comment.

Eddie huffs through his nose, "C'mon Stevi—Steve. It's ten in the morning on a Saturday. You can't tell me you're busy right now."

Steve has to resist slamming Robin's mug down on the counter, already having being put together after the 1994 incident, he doesn't want to face her wrath.

Gently placing it on the counter, Steve turns. "Actually, I have somewhere to be at twelve, not that you need to know that. And don't act like you know what's going on in my life, Munson."

Eddie smiles, a little laugh escapes him. God, it is like a fucking drug after years of being sober that laugh. Steve wants to beg him for another hit, even though he knows it's bad for him.

With the smile never leaving his face, Eddie raises his hands. "Okay, okay. You're right."

"Why are you smiling? This isn't funny." Steve huffs.

Eddie's face softens, "Sorry, just even though you're mad at me. You're talking to me, and shit, sweetheart. I would take that over silence any day. It's nice to hear your voice."

Steve has to force himself to keep his shoulders tense, wanting to sag into Eddie. He's still mad at him, furious even. But some part of him agrees deep down, this is nice.

He can never let Eddie know that.

"Fuck off, Munson. I have shit to do. I'm sure you're too busy anyway."

Eddie shakes his head, hair falling in front of his face. "No, trust me I have nothing else going on. The band is on hiatus. And even if we weren't, trust me when I say this is exactly where I am supposed to be right now."

Steve can't help the snort that comes out of him, "Funny you're asking me to trust you, asshole. That went out the door with your bags five years ago."

Eddie flinches back, "Okay, I deserve that one."

Steve doesn't mention to Eddie how he knows his band has been on hiatus for over a year now. How he's kept up on the band, even after Eddie left. How he is curious why they went on hiatus at all, they have two successful albums, and supposedly were working on their third, when suddenly they all decided it was time for a break.

Peak of their career, and they chose silence. Normally, a horrible career move, but it seems it makes the rock community want them even more.

Steve can understand that partially. When it comes to Eddie, you can't help but want more, even when he disappears without a trace.

"I got to go get ready. Seriously, Munson. I know you think I don't mean it when I say leave. I think you're stuck on the Steve from five years ago, and how the Steve from then wouldn't really mean it. But this is the Steve now. And Steve from now means it when he says, get the fuck out. Go find someone else who could actually use your presence, like Dustin. God knows the kid deserves a phone call."

Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but doesn't get to chance to say his peace, Steve's already on his way back to his bedroom with their drinks in hand.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

Steve is running late.

It's not his fault, he has a fucking ghost haunting his living room, and it takes him ten times longer to work around it. Robin tells him to cancel his lunch, but Steve doesn't, even though she's right.

Robin's always right.

Steve can't help but feel a little smug when thinking back to leaving his apartment, though. He looks good, wearing his nicest Levi's and soft white button-up. Steve had made sure to keep the top few buttons undone, showing off his gold necklaces that landed perfectly on his exposed chest hair.

For Drew, of course, not for Eddie.

Still, Steve knows he looks good. So when he leaves his apartment and Eddie doesn't even bother to try to talk to him again because he is just too busy staring at Steve.

Steve makes it to the restaurant only five minutes late. It would have been on time if it had been in his athletic prime.

Resturant, Steve realizes, is a bit of a stretch. It appears to be a cafe--but not one of those cozy ones with crazy colors and a fun name. No, this cafe is incredibly fancy. Everything is so sleek and high up, the name in an Italian word he'll have to asked Robin to translate later.

Steve looks around the cafe in a huff, realizing Drew is nowhere to be found. He is momentarily flooded with relief, knowing he has beaten Drew to the cafe.

Steve finds a table in a corner and waits. His brief relief is quickly swept away into annoyance as he sits there for minutes with no signs of Drew.

It takes another thirty minutes, before Drew is finally at the cafe.

"Sorry, I'm late, baby." He says breath even. Steve knows he was in no rush to be here on time. He doesn't move to kiss Steve, not on the cheek and certainly not on the mouth. Drew isn't one for PDA, or so he says. Instead, he smooths down his dark blue Armani suit and sits across from Steve.

"You know, you could give me a kiss. I haven't seen you in a week." Steve decides to move past his being late; there is no point in arguing. If it had been him, Steve is sure he would never hear the end of it.

"Sweetheart..." Drew whispers and brushes his hand against Steve's knee. Steve's lip twitches; he doesn't like it when Drew calls him that. "You know it isn't safe to do that."

Steve wants to throw Drew's hand off of him, but he doesn't. It's always like this between them, Steve wants more, and Drew pulls back. It's beginning to feel tiresome, this game between them. They have been dating for a year and have made no progress in public. Steve's lucky Robin gets to know, seeing as basically no one else in either of their lives knows about each other. For Steve, everyone knows of Drew but not his name. For Drew, Steve is almost sure no one even knows he's gay.

Steve wants to hit himself for the thought. It's unfair of him to put these expectations on Drew, everyone comes out at their own pace. He would be a hypocrite if he pushed him; it had taken him nineteen years to figure out he was bisexual. Took Eddie leaving for him to come out to anyone other than Robin.

It feels different somehow with Drew, though. Like this isn't him scared to come out, but more like Drew doesn't actually see a future with Steve. It had taken them six months to even label themselves as boyfriends, moving from late-night booty calls to watching a movie together in Steve's living room in the middle of a Tuesday.

Steve rubs his temples instead of smacking Drew's hand away. Steve feels tired of this cycle. He knows this is the best he's going to get when it comes to dating. With women, they often want him to admit that he was experimenting, wanting to shun parts of himself away. That or they are convinced he's gay. Well, he is, but it's more than that, and they don't seem to get it.

With men, it's the opposite problem. Either they need him to admit being bisexual is just something he used to make himself feel better, or they are only looking for a quick hookup.

Hookups are nice, but approaching thirty, Steve wants something real and is perhaps sick of finding out the man he brings home from the bar is married.

He knows this is the best he's going to get.

"Maybe if we met a cafe in my neighborhood, we could be a bit more affectionate. The one down the block has a rainbow flag and everything."

Drew scrunches his nose, "Why do that when we can get nice coffee like this?"

Steve doesn't point out that neither Drew nor himself has ordered coffee. Steve can't afford the coffee here, and Drew was late. "I think that's your way of saying where I live isn't nice."

Drew grabs his hand under the table, "No, babe, I don't want to fight today. I've missed you."

Steve feels bad; he has missed Drew. Despite their ups and downs (and Robin's grumbles), Steve does care for him. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I did want to have lunch for a reason." Drew smiles brightly. Steve can't help but stare for a minute. It's no surprise what hooked Steve the first moment they met at the club. He is a classic kind of handsome. Wavy brown hair cut to look proper, a shiny white smile, piercing blue eyes. Nothing about him is soft, he is full of sharpness that takes you from across the room.

He's the kind of guy Steve's parents would have loved if they were okay with Drew being a guy—if Steve was even talking to them at all.

"Oh yes, you've got me on the edge of my seat." Steve jokes.

Drew gives him a charming smile, "There's my funny guy."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"So I have a big question for you..."

Steve freezes up; oh no. Here it comes. The talk, the let's move into together speech. One he'll have to turn down. No one ever gets it. How he can't live without Robin. Literally and physically.

"....so Greg says there's an opening and I think you'd be a great fit."

Steve shakes himself out of his thoughts, "What?"

Drew levels him with a look. "A job? For you?"

Oh. "I already have a job."

It's Drew's turn to roll his eyes, "C'mon, Steve. A high school guidance counselor? You could do so much more."

"I like my job, Drew. We've been through this. Besides, you barely want to be seen together, and now you want to work together? I have no interest in working at a law firm."

Drew pinches his nose, "Just...just think about it, okay? I want to see more of you in any way I can."

Steve doesn't want to fight. The fight left him a long time ago. "Okay."

He doesn't mean it.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

aaah im loving where this is going, also I swear it gets better soon and this has a happy ending!! also thanks for the love and support. This will probably be the last part where I will take tag requests for the series so please ask now, cause its getting too long. But parts will always be updated on the previous posts and my page!!

tag list!:

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso @yesdangerpls

@lingermirth

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@l1lpip @emmabubbles @arepaconchocolate

@thesuninyaface @hallo-spaceb0y @dykelips @bookbinderbitch @valinwonderland

#guys really i swear there is a happy ending #ive gone full blown story now #yal hyped me up its your fault #also im so excited for the next part hehehe #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #my writing #platonic stobin #ficlet #angst #hurt comfort #i wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind)#ao3

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melminli · 3 months

Text

Devil's Advocate II

pairing: hazbin hotel x fem. reader

summery - after you died, you didn't really find it surprising to end up in hell. though, what you did find quiet amusing was that your life down here sucked just a bit less than the one before.

word count: 1.5k

contains: cursing, strong language, sinner reader, violence, religious themes (obviously), sexual themes, demon horniness

part I

"So...ya and that pretty lady over there seemed to be pretty tight, if ya know what I mean." Angel Dust asked curiously, ready to hear some tea. He grinned as he tilted his head to the side flirtatiously. "She some ex of yours, or somethin' like that?"

Husker just looked at him with his usual grim look while he was cleaning a few glasses. Then his gaze briefly wandered away to your figure, who was forced to deal with the Radio Demon and the Princess of Hell. Yeah, you haven't really been successful in getting out of this hotel yet.

"None of your business." He said with his monotone voice and let Angel hang his head in disappointment. "...I'm far too sober for this shit."

A groan could be heard. "Oh, come on, ya grumpy cat! Don't leave me high and dry, I know there's some good story to be heard!"

Before Husker could leave him hanging one more time, a red demon manifested next to them, much to their surprise. "I would also like to hear this good story, if you wouldn't mind sharing it with us, my good friend!" Alastor expressed his interest and looked menacingly at the barkeeper for a few seconds to make it clear that he did not have the privilege of turning his request down.

Fuck you, Larry. This is all your fault. "...we go back a long way." He reluctantly shared the information. "She was obsessed with money back then too, so I saw her in the same casino as me sometimes. Though, she died a long time before me, so I've only really known her since I went to hell." He summarized as briefly as possible.

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" He asked, a little disappointed, even though he hadn't expected the man in front of him to be a good storyteller. "How did she die?"

Cat eyes looked a little nervously at the two people in front of him, while he didn't make a sound. How unfortunate, Alastor thought to himself, and his sharp teeth showed as he understood the situation. "Looks like Husker isn't allowed to tell us this information. That's very interesting! Very interested indeed..." He laughed, and his creepy gaze shifted briefly to your figure. "Seems like we need to find out directly from the source."

The once Overlord looked over at Angel Dust with slight concern and saw how the spiders' eyes were also glancing towards your form. It wasn't that he didn't trust you, but demons as reckless as him fell into your trap like flies to a web. Besides, it wasn't like he was on your best side right now. "I'd be careful." He said to the crowd even though he didn't give a rat's ass about Alastor. "She's not known for making packs with demons left and right for nothing, and I can assure you there's not the slightest chance of escaping from her contracts once you're in it." He said and added. "That's the price for holding up her end of the deal without any sneaky tricks, I suppose."

Well, that sounded unusual. After all, it was normal that one Demon after another stabbed the other in the back, there was no such thing as trusting the other person's word. But maybe that was why you were so popular. "Calm down, I'm not gonna sell my soul to her." Angel laughed. I couldn't even if I wanted to.

Husker placed another clean glass on the counter. "It doesn't have to be your soul. She'll find something she wants from you, and she's good with her mouth, so you'll give it to her. They all do in the end." He said and reached for a bottle of whiskey, ignoring the two incredulous looks he received. He took a sip and was initially confused as to what was going on with the two until he realized what he had said and choked on his drink. "Words! I meant to say words, damn it." He corrected himself.

Alastor didn't blink for a few seconds, and Angel, on the other side, just laughed amusedly. Maybe he wasn't so wrong with his first guess, after all. "Of course ya were."

"Well, thank you for your kind hospitality, but I'm afraid that I'll be taking my leave now." You spoke to the two girls. As much as Charlie regretted it, she couldn't convince you to spend a few nights at the Hazbin Hotel. Apart from the fact that she would have had a new guest, it might have enhanced the hotel's reputation if someone as renowned as you had visited. Though, unfortunately that didn't work out.

I've messed up again. Charlie tried not to look too depressed, even though she really was an open book. "Oh, all right. Thanks for listening to me."

You smiled while rubbing her shoulder. "Of course, darling." You replied, but that didn't really seem to cheer her up. You couldn't help but be a little gentler with her, she had a good heart for a hell born. "Let's make a deal." You suggested to her as an idea popped into your head.

Right after the sentence came out of your mouth, Vaggie narrowed her eyes and stepped protectively in front of her girlfriend. "Charlie doesn't make deals with demons like you." She said protectively, and you leaned closer to her at what she said. Your pupils narrowed to slits and two more eyes opened menacingly on your face. "What do you mean with demons like me, little lady, hm?" You asked her as the light in the room began to flicker, and you saw her continue to stand her ground, even though you could smell the slight fear emanating from her.

You pulled back again and returned to your normal self. "I'm just kidding, I know I'm a greedy bitch." You laughed out and saw how Vaggies eye twitch in irritation while Charlie laughed along a little uncomfortably. "Well, even though I wouldn't mind making an official deal with the little princess, I was thinking more of a friendly kind of deal." You suggested. "I'll put in a good word if the subject of your hotel comes up with anyone I know, and in return, I'd just like to ask you for a teeny tiny favor."

That didn't sound so bad. It would be good for their image if someone like you would spread a few good things about the hotel. Before Charlie could agree, Vaggie straddled back in. "And what does this favor involve?"

You conjured up a collar with a bell and an old Poloroid camera with a snap of your fingers. "Make Husk wear this and take lots of photos of it. Preferably of the process too, 'cause I'm working on some thank you cards for my company." You say and put the two things in her hands. You then remembered something. "Oh! And give this to him too." You added and handed Charlie a piece of paper. "That bastard owes me sixty thousand dollars 'cause of that Berry guy, or whatever his name was."

You were about to turn around and walk to the door when you met two red eyes right in front of you. "Leaving us so soon, what a shame." Said the Radio Demon with a smile as you took a step back so that you were no longer face to face. "Your presence turned out to be quite entertaining, I too had secretly hoped that you would give our great hotel a chance." He announced, pointing his funny stick at you.

You pushed it aside with your finger. "Well, thank you, Blossom, but I'm afraid my presence is in demand at other places." You pronounced not very regretfully.

He raised an eyebrow and would find your nicknames more amusing if he'd understood the reference. "And where would that be?"

You looked neutral. "I actually have a massage appointment at six. See you then." You said goodbye and went away with a poof after you clapped with your hands.

A few seconds of silence passed after you disappeared, and Vaggie looked at the objects in her hands again, a little questioningly. "So, what's the best way to go about this?" She asked Charlie, who was already looking thoughtfully at the bar. "Let's ask him first. Maybe he's in a good mood."

Vaggie looked at the man in question and saw him drinking a large bottle of alcohol before throwing it in the back to get his hands on another one. "Sweetie, do you know Husk?"

#hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vivziepop #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #fanfic #hazbin imagine #x reader #x you #x female y/n #x female reader

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dizscreams · 1 year

Text

Drunk n Love — Ethan Landry ★

PAIRING: Ethan x gn!reader

SUMMARY: Ethans drunk and he says some cute and lovey stuff

WARNINGS: none :)

You were walking around this stupid frat party wondering where your boyfriend went. You saw Mindy and Anika on the couch so you went to them first. “Hey guys, have you seen Ethan? I can’t find him anywhere,” you ask worriedly.

“Uhh I think he’s in the kitchen with Chad,” Mindy tells you and with a nod of your head you go to look for him. Pushing past all these sweaty people you wonder why you’re even here. Chad had convinced Ethan to go and Ethan didn’t want to go without you, he had practically begged you. You loved him but he was such a piece of work when he wanted to be.

You go to the kitchen and the first thing you see is Chad and Ethan chugging whatever’s in their red solo cups. “Heyyy Y/N!” Chad shouts as he slams his cup on the counter, clearly drunk. ‘Oh god’ you thought. You look over at Ethan who can barely stand on his own. “Chad, what have you made him drink?”

“Hey I didn’t do anyyythin’ he has a mind of his own and a very smart one too! What I do- or wait what HE does is not my fault,” he says defensively with his hands raised.

“Uh huh- right.” You go over to Ethan and put your arm around him. Fuck he was heavy. “Hiii y/n you look so pre-pretty,” he says with a hiccup. You mutter a ‘thank you eth’ and then look over at Chad, “I’m taking him home. You stay here and I’ll get your sister,” you say pointing to Chad with a stern look.

“Yeah yeah whatever mom,” he slurs and pours himself another drink.

“C’mon Eth, let’s get you home.”

“Yes ma’am.” You roll your eyes and make your way back over to where Mindy was. “Mindy! Your brother’s in the kitchen absolutely wasted I think it’s time to take everyone home.”

“Aw shit alright. Thanks, y/n.” You nod and try to get Ethan to move with you but he was too busy staring at his hands. “Ethan what the hell are you doing?”

“Look- look at my hands why are they so big? They’re like very large.” You try not to laugh and grab one of his hands. “Yeah they’re so strong now cmon let’s go home, Eth.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to.”

“Nuh-uh you can’t make me,” he says sticking his tongue out.

“Ethan I swear to god if you don’t move right now I will kick your ass.”

“Ooo i like you mad you look hot,” he says with a goofy smile and a giggle as he sways. “Ethan! Come on!” You’re now dragging him out of the door and he mutters an ‘okay okay’.

You end up finally making it to his dorm after a long walk that should’ve only been five minutes. You walk him to his room and place him on the bed. He was wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans that probably weren’t going to be comfortable to sleep in.

“Ethan, do you have any pajamas or something more comfortable?” You ask pushing some curls out of his face.

“Mhmmm they’re in the sec- second drawer, baby.” The poor boy could barely hold his head up. You nod at him before going to the drawer and pulling out plaid blue pajama pants and grabbing a random gray t-shirt.

You sit the clothes in his lap, “Here go get dressed in the bathroom.”

“I don’t wanna get upppp,” he whines.

“Ethan I don’t wanna watch you change-“

“You’ve never had a problem beforeee,” he giggles.

“That’s when you’re sober dumbass,” You playfully push his shoulder and he falls back on the bed dramatically with a ‘so rude!’

“Fine, I’ll just turn around.” And you do so as he changes. You could hear him struggle trying to get his shirt off and wanted to laugh at him. He didn’t get drunk often, but it was slightly amusing to you when he did.

“Okay Okay im good now,” he tells you.

“Alright, let’s get you in bed,” you say and he crawls under the covers. You put a light blanket over him and kiss his head as you go to turn off the light.

“Wait-” he stops you as he gently grabs your wrist. “Are you not gonna sleep with me?” he asks with a pout.

“Ethan, I have to go.”

“Nooo! No you don’t. Can you just- just stay with me until I sleep? Please?” He says with his big brown eyes looking up at you.

“Okay, but only till you fall asleep.”

“Yayyy!!” You shush him for being too loud before you’re under the covers with him. He turns so his back isn’t facing you anymore and instead he wraps his arms around you while his chin is on top of your head.

“Hey Y/n?”

“Yeah Ethan?”

“You know I love you right. I love you a lot and thank you for takin ca- caare of me. You’re a good partner.”

“I love you too and you’re welc-“

He cuts you off, “I’m gonna marry you some day, did you know? We’re gonna have a weddin a faancy one too,” he smiles to himself.

You’re stunned for a moment before the biggest smile is across your face. You’re about to respond but you see he already closed his eyes and was ready to sleep. You lay there with him not wanting to get up and decided you were going to stay there all night.

Even though he probably wouldn’t remember this tomorrow, you would, and you’d treasure the memory.

That boy has your whole heart.

this sucksss but I love him so much :( AND IM SORRY GUYS ILL WORK ON REQUESTS TMR!!

#scream 6 #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry thoughts #jack champion #jack champion x reader #mindy meeks #mindy meeks x reader #chad meeks #chad meeks x reader #anika kayoko #anika kayoko x reader #dizzy writes?! 😵‍💫

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miraclewoozi · 10 months

Text

VERSACE ON THE FLOOR. -l.jh

ooh, i love that dress but you won’t need it anymore –

Or, the time you and your homebody boyfriend* decide to just… not go to your dinner plans.

pairing; lee jihoon x fem reader. content; fluff, suggestive (MINORS DNI). established relationship. warnings; relatively warning free (y'all i didn't even swear???) but just in case -- a couple of dorky jokes, reader wears a dress, makeup and heels, making out, undressing. let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c; 2.4k (apparently i am in my shorter fic era? party.) note; if there's one thing i'm gonna do, no matter what day of the week it is, it's be disgustingly delusional about jihoon. get ur dentists on speedial, it's a tooth rotter (/j). note 2.0; i've had this one in the drafts for so long i had forgotten all about it! but then VOTF came on shuffle a few days ago (and i started thinking about light a flame woozi at the same time, which nearly fucking killed me), so. here we are. enjoy.<3

You don’t go out for dates very often. Not anymore, at least.

When you and Jihoon first got together, he took you out all the time. For dinners, to cocktail bars, to the movies, for walks down the beach, picnics by the river. It didn’t matter where you went as long as it put a smile on your face — all he ever wanted to do was make you feel special. No expense has ever been too great for his favourite girl, after all; he’s always loved to spoil you.

Now several years into your relationship, you’re a real pair of homebodies. Sure, he could take you out for a four course dinner at an expensive restaurant in the middle of the city, or reserve a table at a pretentious cocktail bar that plays slightly too loud music that’s always just to the left of either of your tastes. Then again… He could cook a nice meal for you to have at the apartment you share, where you can make your way through a bottle of bubbles without one of you needing to stay sober to drive home or else risk your lives in a sketchy cab.

It’s something you’ve talked about several times, and on every occasion, it’s quite apparent that you’re both very happy with the way things are. If anything, it makes it all the more special when he tells you he needs you to keep your weekend free because he’s making plans, and he wants to whisk you away.

Like now, for instance. The hotel suite he’s booked is gorgeous and you’re perched on the edge of the plush bedding, bent over double so that you can properly fasten your shoes while he finishes getting ready in the bathroom. Now and again, you hear a grumble or a click of his tongue float through the ajar door; every time, you feel a smile play at your lips as you shake your head. He never changes. (You’re so glad.)

“Jihoon,” you call to him softly. You can practically see how he’ll be standing – facing the mirror, on his tiptoes to lean over the bathroom counter and get as close to his own reflection as he possibly can. Pouting as his fingers drag through his hair to try and fix the strands in place just a tiny bit better. “Don’t you dare come out here looking like Sonic the Hedgehog. You know the more you play with it, the more annoyed you’re going to get.”

A few seconds later, he emerges, an eyebrow raised in challenge, an amused grin tugging his lips out of their habitual frown.

(And lo and behold — his hair looks absolutely fine.)

But the second he sees you, whatever witty comeback he was obviously very proud of dies on his lips, and you straighten up with only one of your shoes secured to your foot, the other just slipped on over your toes.

“Wow,” he says, in that soft, deep, quiet way that he does when you’ve really taken his breath away. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows; you see his brow crinkle and his eyes widen, as if he’s trying to see as much of you as he possibly can. “Is that…?”

“Yeah,” you nod proudly, sitting back and smoothing your hands over the dress you’re wearing. “From our first anniversary.”

As his eyes move over you, taking in everything from the way the straps sit on your shoulders to the way the hem lays across your thigh, your own eyes move over him. The top three buttons of his shirt are still unfastened and his tie hangs either side, tucked beneath his collar but not knotted yet. His slacks have been cleanly pressed, a neat, crisp seam running down the front of both legs. Shoes shined to perfection. Expensive watch strapped around his wrist.

He might just be the most handsome man in the entire world.

“I remember you saying you really liked it, so… I dug it out, special.”

“You look incredible,” he says. It’s so gentle, so sincere, that you think your heart is about to burst clean out of your chest. Warmth trickles the length of your spine, and it isn’t exactly helped when you realise – only now as he starts to cross the room to get closer to you – that he hadn’t moved an inch since he surfaced from the bathroom almost a full ninety seconds ago.

He shrinks down so he’s rested on both of his knees in front of you, skilful hands moving to help with the shoe you hadn’t managed to lace up yet. every time his fingertips so much as brush against your skin, the electricity in his gentle touches shoots all the way from the point of contact up to your brain and leaves it fogged, impossible to make any sense through the thick clouds of intimacy and adoration. More-so as he smoothly lifts your leg a little and presses his lips once to the inside of your ankle, even foggier still as he trails kisses up the length of your calf towards your knee.

“Jihoon,” you laugh breathlessly, laying a hand on his shoulder as you feel his tongue press lightly against your skin. He finally sits back on his heels, running his fingers up and down the backs of your legs; he’s successfully managed to hike your dress up a few inches now, too, and he keeps flitting his gaze between your face and your thighs. “We can’t – we’ll be late.”

“We have ages,” he frowns, shuffling closer and trying to bump your knees apart, but you keep your muscles engaged and he doesn’t pull at them that hard, so they don’t budge.

“We have to get there, too,” you remind him. He throws his head back and sighs dramatically. The neckline of his dress shirt seems to open a little more when he looks back at you, drawing your attention down the length of his neck to his bulging chest, and the muscular forearms that he crosses in front of it.

“And this is why we don’t go out.”

“What, because you’re horny all the damn time?” You tease.

He gently swats at the top of your thigh before soothing it with another small kiss.

“Because when you look this good, how am I supposed to want to go and eat a steak instead?”

He grins up at you from the floor, quite clearly delighted with himself for his little gag. You, however, flop back onto the mattress and cover your face with your hands.

“That was so bad,” you chuckle. You’ve been trying for years to not melt to his very specific sense of humour, but it’s all been completely futile. Your reluctant laughs turn to sweet, breathy giggles by the time he lays both his arms across your legs and rests his chin on top of them. You prop yourself up on one elbow to look at him; he’s staring up at your face like he thinks he’ll never see anything as beautiful as you for the rest of his life.

“Maybe… We don’t have to go out for dinner,” he suggests. “Maybe we can stay in tonight, too.”

“Horndog.” You tsk. But you’re not disappointed at the idea of staying in, either, regardless of whether your teasing implies otherwise. “I knew you’d say that.”

“No — really,” he swallows. You aren’t sure if you can feel his heart beating a little faster where his chest is pressed completely against your shins, or if you’re just imagining it. But the tips of his ears are going pink too, so you think it’s safe to trust your intuition on this one. “I mean-… we don’t have to go. I could-…”

He bites the inside of his cheek before he looks down, pressing his forehead against his arms and hiding his face completely.

“I could do it here.”

He says these words quietly. Mumbles them, really. You aren’t sure if you were meant to hear, or if he was just talking to himself. But either way, it has to be worth a shot to find out.

“What do you mean, Ji?”

One, two, three seconds pass. And… Nothing.

“Hey.”

You bounce your thighs a little so he’s forced to look up at you, and you can see something swimming in his eyes. Something brewing. He sits back from you and pushes a hand through his hair; a few strands lose their stick to the rest of the main body and tumble down over his forehead. Exactly in the way he was trying to prevent.

“I could just do it here.”

He says this louder. Clearer. With much more finality. You sit up properly, then, both your hands clasped together in your lap.

“Do what here, baby?”

His eyes find yours and you sit there for a few moments, unwrapping each other's minds with nothing more than a look and a matching pair of gentle — but slightly concerned — smiles.

He moves one hand down and slips it into the back left pocket of his slacks. You think you can feel the world around you start to slow.

When he shifts a leg from beneath him so he’s on one knee before you and presents you with a glittering diamond ring, it stops altogether.

“Jihoon,” you breathe.

He glances between the ring and you, biting his bottom lip before he speaks.

“I had it-… I had everything planned.” He laughs, looking away from your face as even more rising heat becomes evident on his own. “Down to the second, even. But just like you always do — just like the first time I saw you, and just like every time since… You threw me a curve ball and… Somehow, you’ve changed everything. But you made it so much better.

“I think I was supposed to find you, y/n,” Jihoon says. “I don't know what’s up there, what’s in charge of when we meet the people we meet and why we fall in love with the people we fall in love with. but I know that they were really looking out for me the day you came into my life.”

You can feel your eyes starting to sting at the corners and you will the tears away, desperate not to smudge the makeup you spent so long trying to perfect. You know he’d love you either way — mascara tear tracks and splotchy concealer and all — but…

“I am so in love with you that sometimes, it really hurts. It hurts because I know that no one’s ever going to come close — about anyone in the world — to feeling the way I feel about you. I feel bad for everyone, a bit. Because you’re not-… you're not with them. You’re with me. But I wouldn’t want any of them to be with you, because-... and… and if you’ll have me, I want you to be with me forever.”

You don't know when you started slowly nodding along to his little monologue, but you definitely are. You’re not sure when you started holding your breath either, but that’s two for two. He looks up at you, expectantly, fluttering his eyelashes and stuttering out a long, deep breath.

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

Some decisions, you’ve always thought, are made for you at a cosmic level. Your favourite colours. Your favourite foods. Hot and cold weather people. Loving or hating marmite. A predisposition to enjoying scary movies or being the kind of person who hides behind a pillow.

This is another one of those. You don’t have to think twice about it — you just know. You know because a great unstoppable force managed to squeeze you together at the perfect moment in time; the ever-expanding universe around you has kept you and Jihoon side by side through everything it could possibly throw at you.

“Yes.”

Of course you want to spend your forever with him.

The word leaves your mouth in a whisper and everything flies back into motion. The first black droplet rolls down your cheek. His usually so steady hands fumble with yours to slide the ring over your finger. A perfect fit. You’re hurtling through space and time as he gets up off his knees and cups your cheeks, gently pulling you upright and crashing his lips against yours. You stumble into him slightly in your heels; his kiss is more a chaotic clatter of teeth and giddy laughter than perhaps the intense, romantic gesture he was aiming for, but it’s completely, utterly, unequivocally perfect.

Jihoon’s fancy dress shirt creases under your fingers as you ball it into your fists where the top buttons are spread open, pulling him as close as you can, laughter dying down as he loses himself in you and as you lose yourself in him, right back. He swallows all of your gasps and sighs, hands sliding down from your face to the sides of your neck, until he’s resting a palm on each of your shoulders. A single finger slips beneath one of the straps and he pulls it out of the way, down onto your arm, withdrawing from your mouth so that he can press a series of kisses down your cheek and to your jaw instead.

“Ji,” you murmur, tipping your head back and fumbling at the buttons running the length of his torso, trying and failing to get them open. He chuckles, his other hand coming to rest over yours to stop you. You lace your fingers together, feeling him squeeze. Your heart pounds.

“Let's take our time,” he whispers to you, thumb grazing over your collarbone. “Okay?”

All you can do is nod as he kisses lower, and lower, pressing his lips everywhere he can while he’s still standing. Your neck and shoulders feel ablaze, tickling with the heat of the burning stars his mouth paints across your skin.

“Need-... Ji, you need to-... call… call the restaurant,” you stutter. “Gotta…. we need to cancel…”

The fleeting sting of his teeth against your throat interrupts you and you’re only aware of him reaching behind you to tug the zipper of your dress down when the material falls completely slack..

“In a minute,” he says, helping you walk backwards until your calves collide with the bed behind you once again. He eases you to lie down on the comforter and crawls on top of you, caging you in with both arms, taking hold of your left hand again.

He looks down at the ring on your finger, his entire face breaking into the most brilliant of smiles. Every inch, from the creases at the corners of his eyes to the paling stretch of his beautiful lips.

“My future wife needs taking care of, first.”

– no you won’t need it no more, let’s just kiss ‘til we’re naked, baby.

hehe thank u sm for reading!! i hope you enjoyed this bc it was a bit special 2 me. likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all, as always, greatly appreciated.<3

#woozi fluff #woozi fic #woozi x reader #lee jihoon fluff #lee jihoon fic #lee jihoon x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #j writes.#*#running off into the void now <3 don't perceive me BYE

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ghost-proofbaby · 5 months

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER SIX: IS IT OVER NOW?

LET'S FAST FORWARD TO THREE HUNDRED TAKEOUT COFFEES LATER, I SEE YOUR PROFILE AND YOUR SMILE ON UNSUSPECTING WAITERS.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.8K+

☆ A/N: if i could put the entirety of the lyrics to this song on here, i would. it's! their! song! (side note: these idiots need to start making progress before i tear my hair out i mean it. they make me think about jumping off of very tall somethings)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

The coffeeshop that Eddie chooses isn’t one you’re familiar with. It’s smaller, more hidden, tucked away in an unsuspecting corner and disguised from prying eyes.

It wouldn’t have been your first choice, but you’re sure his thought process on choosing public locations differs from yours now. One wrong move, and he’s sure to end up on the cover of another magazine. Actually, one wrong breath, and the public eye probably eats him alive.

He’d sort of brought that upon himself, building up such a polarizing reputation all by his own hands.

“Ever been before?” he asks as the two of you stand in line, the scent of espresso burning your nose and the hiss of steam wands cutting straight through the soft chatter of fellow patrons.

You only shake your head. No words to ease his clear anxiety as you watch him shift his weight between his two feet and his hands dig deep into his pockets.

“It’s pretty good,” he continues to ramble, looking up at the menu rather than you, “They’ve got decent hot coffee, and their lattes aren’t too bad. I like the vanilla one best, which is probably boring but-”

“Eddie,” you interrupt him sternly, “What happened to not talking?”

He scoffs a little, finally turning to look at you. “We aren’t seated yet. Once we get a table, I swear, my lips are sealed.”

You highly doubt that.

It’s torture being this close to him for this long. The accidental bumps of his elbow against your shoulder that send you jumping from the contact. The way you nearly stepped on his foot when you’d shuffled out of the way for someone, and your apology got tangled on your tongue when he’d reached out to steady you. In small moments, when he’s too busy glancing nervously around the cafe, you spare him longer looks. Since he first came tumbling back into your life a mere week ago, you’d been staunch on your stance that he had changed beyond measure. But here, out at a coffee shop with just the two of you present along with all his nervousness, you can see glimpses of something familiar beneath the surface. The way he bites his lip, the way he fiddles with his rings, how he’s occasionally humming tunes beneath his breath as he avoids eye contact with you – you hate it. You hate every aspect of it, and all the painful nostalgia it stirs within you.

It reminds you of your first date with him, back in Hawkins. All the confidence he’d exuded at that Halloween party you’d met him at had disappeared the moment he got you alone sober. As if he had felt the weight of what this would become from day one, as if he knew just how much of both your future’s rested in one stupid date.

You almost get lost in the memories before it’s your turn to order at the counter.

“Just a vanilla latte, please.”

You can see his small smile out of the corner of your eye. A small trace of triumph is clear as day as you order the exact thing he just said was his favorite. It wasn’t intentional, but there’s no use trying to convince him of that.

It’s just a coincidence, you try to convince yourself. It just sounded good after he brought it up.

“I’ll have the same,” he tells the barista behind the counter, moving to pull out his wallet.

On your first date with him, you had bickered endlessly about who would pay. And you nearly do it again – you nearly reach out a hand to stop him and insist you could pay for your own coffee on instinct.

It would be so easy to let history repeat itself, to watch your greatest hits reinvent themselves at this moment. Maybe, this time around, the two of you can get it right.

You don’t move a single muscle as he hands over his card.

He murmurs out a soft thank you when it’s returned to him with a receipt, and you’re already turned to scout out a table to sit at.

There’s plentiful booths, a few high-tops by the front windows. There’s even half booths lining one wall of the cafe. If you were out on your own, all of these choices would be perfect. You’d take a seat at any of the tables and be content, especially the high-tops that offered the perfect opportunity for people watching between work.

You choose a table in one of the back corners. Somewhere darker, and far from everyone else in the building. Somewhere hidden.

“Here?” he questions, hesitating behind you as you drop your bag down beside one of the chairs.

“Something wrong with this table?” you ask over your shoulder, hand gripping on the back of the chair as if it could ground you.

“I mean… not really,” you turn and look at him over your shoulder, “It’s just kind of dark back here, and you used to like sitting by windows-”

Your throat tightens at it – the acknowledgement that he remembers. That he can recall anything from the past, of you, of your time spent together. Part of you had been convinced he’d taken a sledgehammer to the past, shattered it into something unrecognizable and abandoned it altogether.

He hadn’t. It should have been obvious, but he hadn’t.

“Maybe I’ve changed,” you cut in, gaze unwavering as you dare him to challenge you on the fact, “Besides, I don’t want to be distracted while I work.”

You won’t lose this game; whatever he’s currently playing at, you can’t afford to lose. You are not the girl he remembers, and he is not the man you’ve mourned for two years. Both of you, it seems, need that reminder.

He joins you at the shadowy table without another word.

You take to setting up your laptop and notebook, powering up your devices as you flip back open to your pages of contacts and physical notes already taken. Your eyes refuse to find his the entire time as you log in, as you open up to that damn refusal from the latest venue, as you sigh harshly out your nose at that bitter reminder of failure.

When they call your names for the lattes, he’s up and retrieving them without you even asking him to.

In your short time alone at the table, you lean forward to rest your forehead on the palms of your hands. It’s exhausting – being around him, pretending like you wouldn’t have enjoyed the view out the window, facing the reality that his mess had once again become yours. Every inch of your skin prickles with the need to run. And yet you don’t. You could have told him no, easily turned down his offer for coffee. But you didn’t, so now, you’ll live with the consequences.

“One vanilla latte,” Eddie appears, setting down that takeout cup of coffee down in front of you before he takes his seat, “I didn’t know if you’d want any extra sugars, but if you do, I can grab them-”

“Thanks,” you interrupt blandly, lifting your head from your hands as you watch him sit down his own coffee. You really, really didn’t want to hear him ramble anymore.

Didn’t want to ponder how it’s almost as endearing as the first day you met him. Didn’t want to think about how each syllable that falls from his lips strikes something deep in you, something stained and something yearning for erasure of a past both of you can’t change now. Didn’t want to keep caving so damn easily.

You are meant to be furious. You have every right to be; he left first, he stopped loving you first, he broke this first. You’ve had two years to gather up all your grief and all your anger, package it nicely with a bow on top, and that is what you should be handing over to him right now. Not forgiveness, not understanding. Certainly not endearment.

Something in your chest still shudders at the sight of his wince when he tries to sip the hot latte too soon, effectively burning his lip and tongue.

“So, you come here often?”

What the hell happened to not talking?

It’s not him to blame – it’s you. The words tumble out embarrassingly quickly. You had a plan, why weren’t you following the plan? Get a free coffee, get a break from the office, maybe manage to have some sort of breakthrough while away from that stuffy building. You weren’t supposed to be talking to him.

And he knows it. Damn it, does he know it as his lips curl at their corners ever so slightly, “Yeah. It’s convenient, nice and close to the studio.”

Where the fuck had all his rambles disappeared to? What are you supposed to do with such a short, such a normal response?

“Right,” you nod, acting as though the location of his studio would be common knowledge to you, “Right, no, of course. It’s good to have a convenient coffee place.”

He leans back in his chair, nervousness misting away and some sort of confidence creeping in instead. Fuck him.

“Do you have one around here?”

He’s testing the waters, seeing just how much conversation you’ll allow. The threshold should be none. Zilch. A resounding absolutely not.

“I usually stop by the Starbucks closest to my apartment.”

So much for that.

“Starbucks?” he crinkles his nose, and dear Lord, you need to look away. Save yourself the heartbreak, because those wrinkles are almost a replica map of the ones you remember back in Hawkins when he’d make faces at you across the Hideout when someone would approach him with boring conversation he wanted no part in. The same disgust, the same silent conversation between you transpiring, “I thought you were always a coffee snob. Hated that shit.”

You had been. When he had known you, you had hated that subpar commercial coffee.

“Like I said,” you swallow hard, looking down to your keyboard, realizing the conversation needed to end, “People change.”

Did you change, though? You still hated the taste of your morning coffee, cringed at either the burnt bitterness or overwhelming sweetness you could never find peaceful equilibrium between. A thousand different orders, a thousand different experiments, and you still had yet to find anything that satisfied your caffeine cravings.

Kind of like how you window-shopped at the bars. How you’d look over various men that Romina pointed out, and only shake your head before picking out something wrong with them. Something that wasn’t to your usual taste, something that wasn’t him.

You finally take a sip of your latte as Eddie nods, muttering a soft, “Guess so.”

It’s perfect. The latte isn’t too sweet, isn’t too bitter. It’s exactly what you’ve been searching for these last two years.

“They have really good muffins,” Eddie continues on, mimicking you by taking another sip of his drink. This time, he doesn’t burn his mouth, “Cinnamon rolls, too.”

The small talk is nearly killing you. You should go silent on him, begin to work on figuring out the venue situation. But you watch the way he fiddles with the sleeves of his leather jacket and can’t help but remember the old one with safety pins holding together the sleeves. Finally, you cave outwardly.

“What kind of venue do you want?”

It’s not small talk, but it’s not personal talk. It’s just you swallowing your pride, and shocking yourself by reaching out for the help everyone has pestered you with offering the last week.

“What?” Eddie’s eyes widen, no longer rubbing the fabric between his fingertips.

“The venue for the party,” you elaborate, “What are you looking for in it? Small? Big? Private? Rooftop? I’ve tried asking Matt, and he’s given me nothing to work off of.”

Eddie slowly lifts his hands to lay on the tabletop, watching you with such careful eyes that you can see all the lack of trust in them. “Does it… matter?”

You scoff, and before your brain or heart can warn you against it, you’re scooting your chair around the table to be closer to Eddie. You pull your laptop along with you, shifting it so that both of you can see the screen as you bring up your list of options. A colorful spreadsheet: rejections highlighted in a muted red, the ones you haven’t heard back from highlighted in soft orange, the ones you’re unsure of and haven’t even sent out queries regarding highlighted in a nearly transparent yellow.

Only one is highlighted in a pastel green. The one with a rooftop option, as well as several downstairs rooms. The one you thought seemed the most like Eddie.

“Yes, it matters a fuck ton,” you explain, pointing at a random line as his eyes dart about your impressive display, “The ones in red are ones that already rejected me, but most are larger venues you’ve played in the past. By the way, why have you destroyed so many green rooms?”

“I get bored,” he flatly replies, leaning in with squinted eyes, “What does that yellow mean?”

“Those are ones I’m unsure about. Either too big, too small, or too exclusive.”

“And orange?”

“I sent out an email, and haven’t heard back.”

“And…” he pauses as he reaches that venue, “And green? Why’s there only one green?”

It occurs to you he’s the first person to not turn their nose up at your extensive organization. Everyone else had thought it was stupid, wasteful, to spend so much time on the spreadsheet. No one had asked you to explain the color system before, usually hardly glancing at the screen before brushing you off.

No one had even questioned the green line yet.

“Green is the one I think…” you trail off, unsure of why you’re so afraid to admit the meaning. You sort of feel foolish; that terrible imposter syndrome managing to creep up on you as you doubt your judgment, “It’s the one I think might be the best fit. It probably isn’t, I don’t know. Honestly, I can take it off the list-”

“Show me the venue.”

“I really don’t-”

He interrupts you by saying your name sternly, looking away from the screen to glance at you with raised eyebrows, “Just show me. It can’t be any worse than…” he looks back over the list, letting out a snort, “Jesus, Webster Hall? Yeah, they’re not letting us come back any time soon.”

“What did you do to them?” you ask, too curious for your own good. Most of the venues wouldn’t divulge the messy details, only staunchly say no and promise they had their reasons once you mentioned Corroded Coffin.

“I’ll tell you if you show me the green venue.”

He knows he’s won when you finally click onto the still open tabs. You’d opened the hyperlink for every single different room, ranging from the large main one to the petty small one on a rooftop. You start with the largest room, and Eddie eagerly drinks in the details on the page.

He whistles softly, only loud enough for you to hear, “Quite the venue.”

“This is just the first room.”

He looks at you, clearly shocked, subtly nodding for you to click through the rest of the tabs. His reaction is fairly consistent as you show each new room, new capacity, new option. You can see the way his face lights up – you had been right.

Your judgment was correct. You hadn’t been an idiot, shouldn’t have doubted yourself. It almost makes you feel as if there’s still a chance that you still know him. Somewhere deep down, beneath your layers of stained armor and his layers of reckless defenses, you still know him.

“It’s… good,” he says softly after reading over that final tab you had opened, “Like, really good.”

You exhale in relief, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he leans back in his chair, “I don’t think we’ve ever played that venue before, either, so… no wrecked green room to hold over my head.”

You should stay on track and focus; you are making progress. After a week of hopelessness, you were finally not feeling like an absolute failure. Better to keep the train moving forward than to halt right now.

And yet, your mind picks up on that green room comment again, and you can’t help it – all your focus flies out the window.

“Why do you fuck up all those green rooms? And don’t just say you were bored,” you ask, curling your hands around your still warm cup of coffee, “I mean, I get it – the rockstar image or whatever – but isn’t it… isn’t it more trouble than it’s worth when it comes to scheduling tours?”

He shakes his head softly, curls tumbling over tense shoulders, “Definitely not for the rockstar image.”

“Then why?” you turn your head, ignore the screen, focus on him. On his scruff and the bags under his eyes, on the cracks in his chapped lips.

On that distinct look overtaking his face that says you overstepped.

“Forget it,” you weakly say, taking back your words to the best of your abilities without being able to pull them back onto your tongue, tuck them back into that box of anger and grief, and curiosity now, apparently. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. Either way, it’s good that these guys have nothing against you, right?”

“They still might,” Eddie shrugs, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth, “Word travels fast between venues.”

He says it so sadly, it’s hard to think of a proper response. You know he brought it upon himself. There’s no room for sympathy at this table, in this cafe.

But it still only adds to your motivation to do this job, and do it well. A parting gift to Eddie; a way to silently swallow the pride leftover from a messy breakup, and apologize for the way you’d left without a trace. Right then and right there, you decide that’s what this has to become. For your peace of mind, and possibly for his.

“You want a rooftop,” you don’t phrase it as a question, but as a statement as you yank your laptop closer to you, fingers flying over the keyboard, “A rooftop with a nice view, that’s what your email said.”

“I mean, that’d be nice-”

“You all want an open bar,” you add, continuing to type loudly enough a few people glance back towards the dark corner. You pay them no mind, your determination taking over, “And it needs to be smaller than your normal shows according to Matt. That doesn’t mean we have to limit venues by capacity – we could just limit ticket sales.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open ever so slightly, watching you in awe as you start a new document. Making a checklist of just what was possible. No more spreadsheets littered with reminders of rejections, of what you weren’t sure you could get for the band. It would be nice to have a list of the venues you couldn’t contact now, but there was no need to let their names glare at you every time you reviewed your plans.

“We need a top three for venues. What are your top three?”

You finally pause your clacking to look at him. Still stunned, still under the spell of watching you come to life.

It used to be this way back in Hawkins, too. Whenever you took over on a school project, or a new gig for Corroded Coffin. You could do this. You would do this.

“I don’t-” Eddie starts, before taking a deep breath, “The only venues I really know by name are the ones I can’t perform at. The ones that banned me.”

“Awesome,” he shrinks back a little at that, almost in disbelief, but it was awesome. Not that he’d gotten banned, but that you had somewhere to start, “Send me that list. Type it up on your phone right now, and send it.”

“To your email?” he questions, already doing as you’d commanded of him.

You consider it. Your email was already overflowing with work related notions, and brimming with those goddamn rejections you had yet to delete and move past.

Personal email was out of the question. You only checked it for coupons from your favorite online shops and notifications from your mother’s Facebook.

You snatch his phone out of his palm, and don’t look up at him until you navigate to the contacts app, hit the small plus sign, type in the magic number that you don’t check to see if he actually deleted two years ago. You just assume he did.

Your number.

“Text it to me,” you instruct him as you pass the phone back. His hand still hovers where it’d been when you’d taken the cell phone, as if he’s frozen. “Now, please.”

You don’t care if it’s stupid to do, it’s necessary. He’ll probably just delete it once you finish this final favor, this final gift to him to send him off and out of your life for good.

“O-Okay,” he stutters, and not even a minute later, your phone buzzes with a text.

You flip it over, keep it angled so Eddie can’t see the screen.

New text from ROCKSTAR ♡ !

He may have deleted your contact, but you’d never deleted his.

You’d tried to, make no mistake. Spent plenty of late hours staring at that haunted number, even tried to backspace it away a few times. But every time your thumb would hover over the delete button, your hands would shake and knuckles would ache. Every time you’d manage to fully backspace the number away, it was no use; you still knew it by heart, still retyped it and saved it as if nothing had ever changed. There had been a short week of having his number blocked, but you’d given up, unblocked it then sometimes still sat and waited for another round of calls from him begging for a chance to just talk.

You always seemed to have one foot in the door, one foot out with Eddie. Always stained, never cleaned of him.

It didn’t matter. After these next three months, you’d delete it. You told yourself you would, for real this time. You’d erase him, properly let him go until you forgot the sound of his voice and couldn’t even recall the first three digits of his phone number. You would. You had to.

You flip the phone back over and face it down on the table, looking up at him, forcing a polite smile. It kills you – it startles him.

“Alright, Mr. Rescue Party. Shall we begin?”

—

You never return to the office.

Hours later, when the sun was setting and the table was littered with empty coffee cups bought by Eddie to continue to fuel the two of you, you receive an email from Lydia.

Leaving and locking up the office now. Hope the meeting with your client went well. See you tomorrow.

You blink rapidly at the message, hardly being able to process the time. It was nearly seven.

“Okay, so, that venue was a no-go,” Eddie says as he approaches the table again, finally stepping back inside from calling your green venue. The two of you had decided it was time to stop sending off emails that could be easily ignored – you were tracking down numbers and calling them directly, now. Forcing them to give an answer then and there rather than putting you off for weeks, “I was right about word traveling between those assholes- What’s wrong?”

He stops just before he pulls out his chair, leaning down with his forearms pressed into the back of the seat when he notices your expression of shock.

It had been easy, too easy, to waste away the hours with Eddie. And, sure, the main distraction had been planning and putting everything into action. Eddie had narrowed down his top three venues, you had found a few businesses that would service an open bar and had begun to gather quotes. But it hadn’t all been business.

Small things had slipped in. A short conversation had been had about the best bars in town when you’d begun that side quest, Eddie admitting which bars in town let him frequent them while offering the most privacy (not many, unsurprisingly) and you’d listed a few of the clubs your coworkers liked to frequent. No overlap to be found. But then, there had been the joking after Eddie called one of his other top three venues and put them on speaker, allowing you to hear the way the owner chewed Eddie out for the time he’d caused chaos at a show that wasn’t even his own. The moment the owner hung up, Eddie had made a face, somewhere between embarrassment and irritation, until you’d finally spoken up and mocked one of the last things the owner had said before the dial tone.

“Don’t you ever call here again,” you’d jokingly mimicked in a deep and comical voice, wagging a finger in Eddie’s direction in fake scolding.

It hadn’t even been that funny. But the two of you had still descended into giggles like two children, until tears pricked the corners of your eyes and your stomach ached just a little bit.

Small moments. Small exchanges. Things that were personal, things you wouldn’t have done with a normal client. Things that had a full day slipping away from you quietly in the darkest corner of a coffee shop you never even knew existed mere blocks from your work.

“It’s seven, Eddie,” you tell him as if he should be just as taken back. He hardly blinks an eye, “We’ve been here seven hours.”

“And?” the creases between his brows finally smooth, standing back up straight, “We’ve been getting shit done, and we’ve been paying customers the entire time. I don’t see the issue.”

The issue is the way you made work not feel like work.

The issue was the cycle you had been fearing, avoiding, and falling victim to ever since he’d been waiting for you in that conference room that very first day. Every time Eddie would inch back into your vision, whether right before you as he was now or in the form of emails you’d find yourself reading over before bed, you were forgetting the anger. It kept feeling like a time machine, sending you right back to that very first night. Before the fame, before the hurt.

You have no idea how you’ll manage to keep this to just a parting gift.

“I just…” your words fall short, because he’s technically right, “I didn’t realize we’d been here that long.”

Eddie takes his seat with a nonchalant shrug, “Easy to lose track of time when you’re actually getting shit done,” he stops, blanches at his words as he stares at you as if he thinks he’s just insulted you, “Wait, I- No, I just mean- I don’t mean you weren’t getting things done before. I swear.”

You’re not offended in the slightest, “I know. But to be fair, I really wasn’t. I’m sorry for doubting how helpful you’d be when you showed up earlier today.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What? Apologize?”

“No, discredit yourself,” he stresses. And you hadn’t noticed it, but your two chairs had seemingly grown closer over the hours as his knee bumps your thigh, “You… I’m not an easy client. You were handed a shit deal, plus Matt really wasn’t giving you anything to work with. I wasn’t giving you anything to work with.”

“I’m working for the entire band,” you remind him, remind yourself.

All it does is remind you of even more people you miss. Gareth, who was the little brother you never had back in Hawkins. Jeff, who had been one of your closest confidants. Craig, who would’ve answered your phone calls even in the dead of night. All friends you gave up when you walked out on Eddie. You always forget that – you didn’t just leave behind one person, you left behind an entire life.

Eddie’s phone buzzes, and he makes no move to grab it, “Have they been helpful?”

You stare at the phone, waiting for him to reach out. He doesn’t.

“Sort of.”

Another buzz. Another unanswered message Eddie clearly has no interest in responding to.

“Sort of? What did they ask for in their lists?”

Another buzz. Finally, you break free of whatever conversation Eddie’s trying to have, and lean forward to grab his phone and pass it to him, “You need to check that. What if it’s Matt?”

Eddie doesn’t glance at the phone, only crosses his arms, effectively tucking the phone out of your sight as well, “He can wait. What did the other guys ask for?”

You can hear the next buzz, more muffled against his t-shirt and beneath his jacket.

“Eddie.”

“Sugar.”

He knows the nickname is a weapon against you. He uses it more deliberately this time, not letting it just slip out as it had at the office.

“Open bar, fuzzy robes, normal things,” you finally spit out, trying to not let the echo of him calling you that name to worm into your brain and begin to rot you away, “Now, check your phone. Please.”

This time, when the phone buzzes, Eddie removes it from being trapped beneath his armpit and actually looks at the screen. You know immediately you were right; his face falls as he reads over the missed messages, all his teasing fading and that air of light-hearted arrogance being sucked out of the space between you two.

You don’t need to ask, but you do anyways, “Rockstar duty calls?”

He looks up rapidly, mouth already forming the word no, but you shake your head to stop his lie.

It’s fine. It’s entirely acceptable that other people need his attention, that he has other affairs to tend to. You had gotten used to it when the two of you were dating and he first made his big break, you shouldn’t expect a change now when you were nothing more than a stranger working for him. It shouldn’t sting, and you shouldn’t feel a small fraction of you hopeful that he’ll be defiant and insist on ignoring those duties.

Today was only ever meant to be one cup of coffee. The fact that you two had lost track, fumbled and turned one cup into four, was only a blip.

“I get it,” you say, sinking back into your chair. And you did, you really did. It was easier now to understand than it was back then, back when this very type of situation started the domino effect that was the beginning of the end, “You should go if they need you. You are a rockstar, after all.”

It’s a hard sentiment to say without a trace of bitterness, but you manage. He’s a rockstar. All his hopes, all his dreams, have finally come true. He gets to breathe, he gets to be rowdy, he gets to hear crowds scream back all those lyrics you’d watched him write in his bedroom back in Hawkins. He got everything he wished for.

You should be happy for him. If this arrangement is going to work, you have to be happy for him.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks you as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans, standing and beginning to gather empty coffee cups.

“Work,” you shrug, crossing your arms as you glare at the laptop, already feeling preemptive frustration at the thought of picking up where you’ve left off today, alone.

It’s not just because you want Eddie to join you on the project. It’s not Eddie’s help that you specifically want. It’s just nice to have someone to help shoulder the load with you, right?

“At the office?”

“That’s where I usually work, yes.”

“Come to my place instead.”

Time almost freezes. He’s standing there, nearly all of the empty latte cups balanced in his arms, and looking at you as if he hadn’t just asked the most insane possible thing of you.

“Eddie,” you speak softly, carefully, as your arms drop from your chest, “I don’t think that Lydia would be okay with that-”

“I’m a client,” he points out, “Besides, you’ve been stressed about this project, and I like to think I helped with that today.”

He did. God, he did.

“Just think about it,” he’s nearly begging. Beneath the lowlights of this cafe, features dancing with the reflection of some Christmas lights pinned up to line the top of the wall as they cast an aesthetic glow of gold over the surroundings, Eddie Munson is begging for your time, “You have my number. Think it over tonight, and just text me if you decide you want to. I can send over my address.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Probably not,” at least he’s being honest. But quickly, it becomes apparent he’s misinterpreted you as he continues on, “You’re probably going to get photographed by paparazzi when you show up if you’re not careful, and if they figure out you’re there to see me, you’ll probably end up on the cover of some lowlife magazine-”

“That’s not the part I’m concerned with,” you lament, finally choosing to stand now. The last thing on your mind is publicity, or cameras, or magazines, “I mean, I don’t think it’s a good idea to make this,” you motion your arms between the two of you, “A habit.”

His face falls ever so slightly. A soft drop of his eyebrows, a gentle pinch of his lips. You swear, you watch him nearly drop one of the coffee cups before he regains composure, “It won’t be. It’s… It’s just work, yeah?”

Just work. Just a project. Just one final parting gift. This is nothing more than a source of closure for the two of you, a slamming of the door on that chapter of your life where the boy standing before you was your end-all, be-all. He’s right – it’s just work.

Your voice hardly comes out a whisper, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll think about it,” it takes everything in you to level your words, to keep them from shaking, “I’ll ask Lydia, and I’ll let you know.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, and you can’t ignore the way it puts the glimmering lights on the ceiling to shame. No shade of gold, no twinkling reflection on the windows overlooking the busy street, can compare to the knife his hopeful smile strikes in you. It’s the type of smile that aches, that resonates, that haunts.

It’s the kind of smile that tells you you’re going to bleed for this, no matter how much you resist.

“Cool,” he nods, finally taking a few steps back, “I’ll see you tomorrow then, maybe?”

The kind of smile that tells you the bloodstain is never going to wash out, whether this is all just for work or not.

“See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

The idea of closure is about as tangible as smoke and mirrors as he leaves you alone in the dark corner of the coffee shop. It almost hurts as much as it did the first time he walked out to be a rockstar.

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nhlclover · 10 months

Text

i wish you would | rutger mcgroarty

summary: when you reunite with your ex-boyfriend at a party both of your self-control is tested.

request: yes / no

warnings: mentions of alcohol, making out

a/n: based on ‘i wish you would’ by taylor swift. literally been planning a fic based on this song for forever and i finally wrote it so yay me!

word count: 1.3k

“This feels like an excessive amount of booze.” You say, dropping the last bag on the counter.

“Well, there is an excessive amount of people coming.” Your friend Kelsey says.

“You know what? Birthdays get special privileges.” You smile at her. She steps towards you, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing you tightly.

She unravels her arms from around you, leaning on the countertop. She has an anxious look on her face looking at you. “What?” you ask.

“What?” She says back.

“Your face is all screwed up tightly. You look like you want to say something.” You tell her.

She lets out a huff of air. “I invited Rutger.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Kelsey chews on her lip as she awaits your answer.

“That’s fine.” You say.

Kelsey straightens up. “Really?” She asks.

“Yeah I mean you’re still good friends, it would be unfair to make you not invite him.” You explain.

“Y/n you’re truly wonderful.” She says, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing tightly.

You hug her back, wondering how the evening was about to go. It was hard having your ex-boyfriend still in the same friend group as you. You were friends before you started dating, having met through mutual friends.

Your relationship was a strong and passionate one, which is likely what contributed to you guys breaking up. If you’re being honest, you’re not quite sure why you and Rutger broke up. You remember the fight, being mad at Rutger and hanging up the phone on him. But you don’t know why you fought.

You were the one that said the words “we’re over” before ending the call. It hurt when Rutger didn’t even try to call back, so you fell asleep with anger in your heart. It only took a couple of days for the anger to dissipate and the mourning of your relationship to kick in. You missed him too much to be mad anymore.

There were several unsent texts you’d drafted outlining all the things you’d felt had gone unsaid on your part. However, you never sent any of them.

You tried to force the thought of Rutger out of your mind throughout the rest of the night, as well as attempt to avoid him. It worked for the majority of the night until most of the party gathered in the living room to play a drinking game.

While you sat out, wanting to be sober to keep an eye on your friends, you spotted your ex-boyfriend across the room nursing a Bud Light.

The two of you locked eyes instantly. Your instinct was to look away but you couldn’t find yourself doing so. You kept a locked gaze for a moment before he finally tore his eyes away to talk to a friend. The moment had your heart pounding.

You met eyes a few other times throughout the night but you were able to force yourself to look away those times.

It was weird; all you wanted was to have Rutgers eyes back in your life, but every time you met them a sense of panic would erupt within. You weren’t sure why. On one hand it makes you want to run and hide but it also makes you want to turn right back around.

2 AM was when people started to file out of the house or retire to one of the bedrooms in Kelsey’s house. Looking around the living room at the abundance of empty cans, cups, and bottles, you began to start tidying your friend's house.

“Hey, need some help?”

You spin around to face the voice, seeing Rutger is standing in the doorway,

“Uhm, no, no. That’s alright, I’m good, I’ve got it. It’s honestly not that much to do, I can handle it.” You ramble.

Rutger chuckles, stepping towards you. “Nice to see you still do that rambling thing when you get nervous.”

He picks a trash bag from the box, filling it with cups from around the room. You stare at him momentarily before resuming cleaning. The pair of you clean, the silence only being broken with the sound of clinking bottles.

“How’ve you been?” Rutger asks.

“F-fine. I’ve been good.” You reply. “How about you?”

“I’ve been good.” He says. “I haven’t seen you at any of the hangouts or anything.”

“Uh yeah, just been busy.” You lie. You’d been purposefully not attending anything your friends planned if you knew Rutger was going to be there. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw him. Now, being forced to be alone in a room with him, you were panicking slightly.

So, the two of you clean in silence, only quiet noises coming from the two of you. There’s still a bit of comfort you find in being in Rutgers' presence despite your nerves in seeing him.

“Y’know, the other day I was in your neighborhood and I accidentally drove down your street. Just out of habit.” Rutger tells you. “It was weird to keep driving past.”

There’s a pang in your chest hearing what Rutger says. You remember a couple of days ago, sitting in the window seat of your bedroom. It was 2 AM when a pair of headlights flashed in your window. You peeled back the curtains, catching a glimpse of the car.

Your heart did a little flip-flop when you thought it was Rutger’s car. You brushed it off as every white car you saw recently made you think it was his.

“Just driving past your house made some memories come back,” Rutger says, a little chuckle coming out. “Like when we accidentally crashed that wedding at the golf course.”

You laugh remembering how you wound up joining the wedding, stealing a bottle of wine, and running when the maid of honour caught the two of you. Overwhelming memories of your relationship come back as you’re reminded of the days and nights you spent together.

“I’m sorry for how things ended.” You say, dropping empty bottles into the recycling bin. The clink of the glass cuts the abrupt silence. You look over to Rutger standing over the coffee table staring down at the wood.

“Me too.” He says. He goes back to picking up the cups and bottles, dropping them in the bin by your feet. You look up at him, his dark blonde hair falling over his forehead.

“I miss you.” You say quickly.

“I thought you hated me.” Rutger says in a low voice. He eyes your face, pausing briefly on your lips.

“I could never hate you.” You sigh. “I honestly wish I could go back and not hang up on you when we broke up. I actually don’t even remember why I was mad at you anymore! I just… all I know is I miss you.”

“Really?” Rutger says.

“I miss you, Rut. I’ve missed you ever since. I’ve spent hours late at night hoping, praying that you’d come back and knock on my door. That I would have you back in my arms because that’s the only thing I need.”

Rutger suddenly swoops down, connecting your lips. His hands are on your hips lifting you slightly to match his height. Your hands are up in his hair, tugging at the roots, something you know he likes.

He groans into the kiss, which itself becomes rougher. Rutger pulls you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you over to the couch, laying you down.

His lips are detached from yours but he keeps you in his grasp.

“All I wanted to do was call you back. Do you know how many times I drove down your street, itching to pull into your driveway again?” Rutger asks.

“Why didn’t you?” You question.

“I thought you wouldn’t take me back.” He says.

“I’ll always take you back.”

His lips are back on yours, the mess you were once cleaning left forgotten as you picked things up where they left off.

#nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #rutger mcgroarty imagine #rutger mcgroarty x reader #rutger mcgroarty #umich imagine #umich fic #umich hockey #hockey imagine

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