#making as much art as i can before i go back to work next week. RIP

[lazyjellyfish300]

Gentleman part 3 🌼💌

Geneticist CEO!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Intern College Student!Reader

Synopsis: your relationship with your new sugar daddy progresses, but meanwhile your jealous sorority members plot against you. Word count 5.5k

A/N: so I know at first the idea was to make this a situationship to lovers but I actually completely forgot about that lol so I'm just rolling with whatever this is that this has turned into. 🫶🏽🖤 This art by blahhberry on insta is Dr. O'Hara's face claim if you wanna see. ;)

TW: MINORS DNI, SUGGESTIVE, MASTURBATION ALLUDED TO BUT NO EXPLICIT SMUT YET (NEXT CHAPTER HEHE), SOME ANGST, LONELINESS, BULLYING, SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND ASSAULT (A GUY NEARLY GROPES YOU AND YOU GET PEER PRESSURED), BAD DRUNKEN BEHAVIOR, YOUR ROOMMATES SHOW THE WORST SIDES OF THEMSELVES, IT MIGHT BE KINDA TOUGH TO READ, TAKE CARE WITH THIS ONE IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE❤️ SUGAR DADDY RELATIONSHIP, (BOSS/EMPLOYEE) don't condone this IRL, maybe OOC Miguel, age gap (reader is somewhere around 24-27, Miguel is mid-late 30s), mild violence

Part 1, Part 2

-------

Once you got back to your dorm, you ran upstairs to your room, kicking off your shoes. You fixed your hair and held your bouquet, angling your phone for the best lighting and took a selfie, sending it to Miguel along with a quick text: 

You: Thanks for the flowers. ❤️💐 You made my whole day! 

A couple minutes later: 

M❤️: You're very welcome. You look so beautiful. I hope you had a good day. 

You: Thank you❤️❤️I did, a lot better thanks to you. 🥰

M❤️: I'm so glad. 

You sat there, trying to think of what to say next. 

You: So, when can I see you again? :)

M❤️: Well, my flight gets in Friday afternoon, however I will most likely spend the rest of the day with my daughter and my mother. Would Saturday work for you? 

You smiled and texted back: 

You: Saturday works perfectly! What did you have in mind? 

Miguel smiled from his high up hotel room in Chicago, looking out the window and thinking for a moment, then typing back. 

M❤️: How does going to the Hamptons sound? There's a waterfront restaurant that serves some of the best food on the East coast, and the views are lovely this time of year. 

You smiled widely at this, appreciating that he came up with an actual date idea that sounded incredible and not just defaulting to whatever you wanted. 

You: That sounds incredible! I'd love that. ☺️ Thank you so much. ❤️❤️

M❤️: You're welcome. Have you ever been to the Hamptons before? 

You: I haven't, no. 

M❤️: I will have Noir take you shopping this week. 

A ding went off on your phone, and your mouth fell open. $500 was just sent to one of your money apps from Miguel. 

M❤️: Use that wisely to pick out an outfit, or a few.  You'll want to dress semi-warm, as it can get a little chilly in the evenings. But we'll only go for the day. I'll have you home at a reasonable hour so you can rest. 

You just had to shake your head and bite your lip. This truly was the best thing ever. 

You: You are seriously so sweet...thank you. ❤️Really, you didn't have to do that. 

Miguel smiles, laying back on his hotel bed with a hand behind his head as he texts you back. You're so humble, it's adorable. 

M❤️: You're very welcome. But, I insist. You deserve it for all your hard work and for what you've had to deal with lately. I hope it gives you a little something to look forward to this week. ❤️ 

You can't help but kick your feet at his message. 

You: I sure do, I'll be counting down the days. ❤️ 

Miguel stood up, a little smirk playing on his lips. Man, it felt good to have a special lady in his life again. But, he had more business to get to first. And he knew he couldn't rush this. He did have hopes that this would become something more serious than just a sugar relationship. 

Still, he had to ride that fine line between building something longer lasting, without creating friction between you both at his hang-up when it came to the institution of marriage. That almost always ended up being the reliable nail in the coffin for his previous flames. But that was a future problem to worry about. 

M❤️: What are your plans this evening? 

You sat up, chewing your lip at the sight of your backpack, knowing you should probably get a head start on the ample workload you were issued by your microbiology and health science professors. 

You: Just homework for the most part. 😮‍💨 I have soo much this week. 

M❤️: I'm sorry to hear that, cariño. The sooner you get to it, the sooner you can rest. ❤️

Your heart fluttered a little. 

You: Miguel, what does cariño mean? 

M❤️: It's a term of endearment, such as sweetheart or dear. Is it alright if I call you that? 

You bite your lip and feel a heat in your cheeks coming on. 

You: Absolutely, I love it when you do. It makes me feel special.❤️ 

M❤️: You should feel special, cariño. Because you are, very special to me... ❤️ Did you eat dinner? 

A grumble in your stomach answered his question for you. 

You: No, haha... Not yet. 

Miguel pauses, dialing Noir while he stands up, crossing the room, trying to secure a pair of cufflinks onto his dress shirt as he reaches for his suit coat that's hanging from the coat rack by a large TV. 

After he hangs up, he texts you again while checking his reflection before he leaves. 

M❤️: Noir is bringing you dinner. Please text him and let him know what you'd like as soon as you can, okay? I will also have him grab groceries for you tomorrow. Be sure to also send him a list of things you need when you get the chance. 

Your heart swells with gratitude and your mouth waters as you envision your favorite pizza from your favorite local joint which sounds perfect right about now. This might have been the most you ate in weeks, as a matter of fact, all thanks to this angel of a man. 

You: Thank you sooo sooo much Miguel 😭❤️

M❤️: You're very welcome, cariño, just want to make sure my girl doesn't go hungry. ❤️ I have to go to a business dinner right now, so I won't be able to answer any texts until later. When you're done with your studies, give me a call? 

You: Okay, I will. ❤️ 

M❤️: Good. ❤️ Talk to you soon.  

----- 

Noir was on your doorstep a short time later with your pipping hot, favorite pizza, a side order of some gooey, cheesy garlic breadsticks, a side salad, a huge bottled water to keep you hydrated, a brand new luxurious fluffy blanket in your favorite color, matching fuzzy socks with your initials, a pumpkin vanilla scented candle, and fancy moisturizer that wouldn't irritate your skin. 

"Here you are, madam. The doctor wanted to throw these in as well, since it gets drafty up here in the dorms, and since you deserved a little something to pamper yourself." 

"Oh my God, thank you sooo much, Noir!!" you gushed. 

Noir noticed the snide looks coming from your bitter roommates as he handed you your food and presents, but he decided not to say anything about it right now. "Can I get you anything else tonight?" 

"Oh, no, no, that's okay Noir...thank you, you're the best." 

"Course, it's my absolute pleasure to serve you ma'am. The doctor has totally changed my life and given me everything I could ask for, so working for him and making sure his woman is taken care of is the least I can do to pay him back." Noir says with a bow. He tips the brim of his black fedora.

"Enjoy, madam. I'll be here for you at 7:30 am tomorrow morning, be sure to write up your grocery list, too, you hear?" 

You nod and smile and thank him enthusiastically again, walking quickly back upstairs to your room, trying to ignore the hateful stares of your bitter roommates. 

------

Heather shakes her head as she waits for her lean cuisine to finish heating in the microwave. "Y'all, I do not fucking get it. At all." 

"Me neither," Vivian scoffs, taking a bite of her salad at the table next to Isla. 

"I give it a month, tops." Heather replies, opening the microwave. 

Isla is staring off when an idea comes to her. "Why wait a month?" 

"Huh?" The other two look at her with curious stares. 

"Seriously, do we really wanna let this get worse than it already has?" Isla asks. 

The other two shake their heads, remembering all the extra labs they had to do that Dr. O'Hara issued them, no doubt as punishment for messing with his woman. 

"She's gotta go." Vivian agrees. 

"But how?" Heather asks. "She's literally fucking the boss. He's not gonna break up with her so easily..." 

Isla smirks. "But the university might if she makes a fool of herself at the football game." 

----

As you worked on your homework, you looked at your closed door at the sound of your roommates laughing hysterically behind it, half slightly peeved by the loud noises while you were trying to work, half feeling that nagging loneliness you felt in your heart. 

The truth was, even though the trio drove you nuts and could be quite mean, you don't know why, but you still cared about their approval. All you wanted was peace between you four while you shared the space. Deep down, you felt left out and sad at their exclusion of you. You knew you could be quiet and awkward, at times, but you missed having girlfriends.

Getting ready to go out on Friday nights, doing your makeup while crowded around a smudged mirror in your jammies while one of the girls played music on their phones, talking excitedly about the night ahead and complaining about the boys you were talking to. Sharing clothes, studying together, slumber parties, talking about things that would be considered TMI with anyone else. Girlhood. 

You just wanted to belong. Just wanted someone to talk to and have your back. Sure, you had Miguel now, but you needed space for friends too. You were starting to get worried at how much you craved the sound of his voice and his company. How much you started to rely on him mentally and emotionally. You knew he was a busy man and he could only be there for you so much. 

Suddenly you're a little girl again on the playground during recess, wondering why nobody wanted to be your friend. Wondering why you weren't interesting enough or why you were so weird that you couldn't make people stay. 

You felt a lump build up in your throat as you tried to work in the darkness of your room while they laughed together outside, holding back tears. 

---

A quiet knock comes at your door and you clear your throat, trying to dry your eyes. "C-come in!" 

The trio enters your room. Isla's eyes land momentarily on the new bouquet of flowers sitting on your desk but move quickly back to you. "Hey girl." 

The other two sit on your bed. 

"Are you crying?" Heather asks in a concerned tone. 

"N-No..." You sniffle. 

"Aw, girl..." Vivian pouts, putting a soft hand on your shoulder. 

Your lip trembles as you try to fight off your tears unsuccessfully. 

"Hey, we were hard on you, and we wanna apologize." Isla says, plopping down on your bed, the others hum in agreement. 

"Come to the football game with us tomorrow night!" Vivian says, piping up. "It'll be fun." 

"Yeah we can start over, have some girl time. A couple of our guy friends are coming too! It'll be chill. And we're getting milkshakes afterwards at  Caddy's diner like we always do."  Heather says with a smile. 

"Please?" Isla asks, giving you a grin. "Whaddya say?" 

"O-o-okay..." You manage a weak smile. "Thank you guys...I, I don't want us to fight either, *sniff* and I'm so sorry if rubbed any of you the wrong way about anything or offended you." 

"Of course not!" Isla says with a wave of her hand. "Seriously, I mean, look, if you're dating Dr. O'Hara, good for you. Get that bag girl." She utters the last sentence with some difficulty, but her tone remains light and friendly, you don't notice. She flashes her lovely smile at you. "We'll get ready in Vivian's room around 4, then we gotta be ready to leave by 6." 

"I have a really really cute shirt you can wear!" Heather offers. 

"Um, who's all coming?" You ask, sitting up. 

"It's us, you, then Heather's boyfriend Chase, and Chase's friends: Jaden, Alex, and I think his name is Will? Yeah, Will." Vivian says with a smirk.

"He's so hot..." Isla says biting her lip. 

"Girl, he is your ex's cousin, sit down!" Heather throws a pillow at Isla. 

"Oh my goddd let me liveee, dammit!" Isla giggles throwing it back, the pillow hitting you in the face on accident. "Oops! My bad girl I'm so sorry!" Isla pulls you into a hug, catching you off guard as Sexy Angel perfume from Victoria's Secret assaults your nostrils as she hugs you. 

"Okay, anyway, see you tomorrow girl. Remember, 4pm, my room!" Vivian points at you as she follows Heather and Isla out, shutting the door behind her. 

You feel a little uneasy but you feel the most hope you've felt in weeks after all the tension. Finally, maybe you could be chill with your roommates, and even make some new friends. 

------

Miguel waves his room key in front of his lavish hotel room door, entering it with a sigh as he loosens his tie. He smiles widely at the incoming call from you on his phone. 

"Hey," he says with a smile. You can hear the warmness in his voice from over the phone, the sound alone causing you to feel tingles all throughout your body. 

"Hi, Miguel." You say with a smile, laying back on your pillow. 

"How was your day, did you get all your work done?" 

"Yee-up." You say, popping the "p" at the end of your sentence. 

"Good girl." 

Oh God, that was hot. 

"How was your day, Miguel?" You ask him, trying to keep the conversation flowing and give you something to focus on other than his tantalizing voice. 

"My day wasn't bad." He admits. He starts to unbutton his shirt, putting the phone on speaker.

"Just had a productive chat with a few stakeholders about some investments. I admit, I'm not one for social events." He chuckles. 

The corner of your mouth twitches. "Haha, me neither. Guess we have that in common." 

"Guess we do." Miguel agrees with a hum. 

You smile, fiddling with one of your hoodie strings as you continue to talk to him, "Well, the trio invited me to a football game tomorrow night." 

"Oh?" Miguel slips out of his pants and lies down in bed with a small grunt of relief. "I thought you four didn't get along?" 

"I thought we didn't either." You admit. "But they apologized and invited me. They admitted they don't mind my relationship with you and wanted to start over fresh." 

Miguel nods slowly, feeling a little suspicious about this. He's seen how ugly people can be to one another, particularly if the nasty feeling of jealousy is involved, taking nothing off the table of the lengths someone would go to get what they wanted. 

"Just, be careful, cariño. I don't want to see you hurt. If they treat you poorly again, you're to tell me immediately, understood?" 

"I'll be okay, promise." You try and reassure him, but Miguel doesn't feel too convinced.  

"I trust you, cariño. I'm just not sure I trust them." He tells you gently. "You deserve good friends who are supportive and lift you up, not tear you down." His eyes fill with compassion as he speaks to you on the phone, a little astounded at how you manage to tug at his heart strings even hundreds of miles away, a feeling of needing to protect you and make sure you were safe, even if he couldn't physically be there. 

"Would you let me have Noir drive you? You're welcome to invite your friends to ride with. I'll just feel much better about it if he's there to keep an eye on things." 

You hesitate, but think about it. This might be a good way to get on the trio's good side, if you can let them into your new world of luxury a little bit. It kind of felt wrong to use Dr. O'Hara's wealth to win the favor of your roommates. But he was offering, and you'd do anything to improve your living situation at this point. 

"Okay...yeah, that works." You answer. "I'll tell them he can drop us off and pick us up. Thank you, Miguel." 

"You're welcome, cariño." Miguel says quietly with a smile. "Have fun tomorrow, and be safe okay? Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself." 

"I will, I will." You say with a smile, brushing him off. 

There's silence on the other line for some time before Miguel speaks again. 

"Well, I wanted to talk some more tonight, because there's still a lot that I don't know about you yet." 

You sit up a little in bed, "Y-yeah, of course...ask away." 

He asks a few questions about your family and your childhood and you answer them honestly, finding yourself turning into an open book as you give him your life story, telling him all about your parents and siblings, your theories about why your upbringing may have effected your personality and so on. 

And he listens quietly and intently, all of his attention undivided and owned by you completely in this moment. A small feeling endears himself closer and closer to you with every word you speak. You're so enriched with everything you have to say. You're insightful and intelligent and interesting. You doubt yourself. You're a pure soul who seems to feel lonely sometimes like he does, empathizing for how difficult it can be to relate to others and how the weight of becoming an adult and trying to support yourself through school was much more staggering than you expected. 

You're a selfless, kind woman who would even give away the last of what she had to a man like him who had the world at his disposal, reaffirming that his choice to make you his was a resoundingly wise one. 

A match between you two that was even more well suited for one another than he anticipated. Nevermind the difference in your ages, nevermind that you were originally an employee. There's something special here that he underestimated. It's jarring and it's refreshing. 

It's eerily perfect, even causing himself to re-evaluate his wishes from the beginning to not even think about brushing shoulders with the question of matrimony. He's dizzy with all of these sudden epiphanies he's experiencing within just a hour or two of talking to you on the phone. Then, you say something that causes you to laugh loudly. 

Miguel feels a warm feeling in his body at the sound of your laugh. It's infectious and hearty. And he'd be lying if he said the dimming lights of the city outside his hotel room and the sound of your voice weren't making him feel...a little needy by this point. 

What, with how physically attracted he already found himself to you in the beginning, now you've revealed the contents of your soul to him and in turn demonstrated you're nothing like anyone else he's been involved with in the past. It was too easy not to find himself agonizingly tempted by simple desires. He's only a man. 

"What are you up to this evening, my dear?" He asks in that rich voice of his. 

"Just laying in bed..." You say, stifling a yawn. 

Miguel hums. You bite your lip. Something about his voice had you missing him. You just poured out your heart to him, pulling yourself closer and closer to him with every layer of yourself that you stripped away and revealed to him. You find yourself comfortable with him, desiring him more than you already had, maybe even letting you toy with the idea of putting a more intimate physical relationship back on the table, knowing that Dr. O'Hara was the kind of honorable man he was. You'd love to give yourself to someone like him. 

The sun was well below the horizon at this point, the darkness going straight to your head and traveling in a more sensual, suggestive direction. 

"...and missing you..." You add with a little smirk. 

"Mmm..." Miguel sighs. 

Oh boy.

"Yo tambien te extraño..." (I missed you too) His voice is dripping with something suggestive, almost sly. 

"What does that mean?" You ask breathlessly, playing with your necklace pendant. 

Miguel smiles. "Means I've missed you too..." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mhmm...." 

"Mmm..." 

"You teasing me, cariño?" 

"Teasing you?" You bite your lip. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Careful..." 

"What?" 

"Heh...well..." Miguel looks around, despite being the only soul in his hotel room. "You're making me feel a certain way." 

"Like what?" You bat your eyes innocently. 

"Don't play coy." Miguel says firmly. "Like..." he sighs. "You're making me feel like I want to break those damn rules in the contract." 

You relax your shoulders and exhale deeply out, the ache between your legs only growing more and more demanding. You really wanted it to continue, "I don't mind..." 

"I'm serious, cariño." Miguel warns. "I'm not going against any boundaries we set together. Not unless you're completely sure..." 

"I'm sure..." You whisper quietly to him, a faint groan rolling off your tongue as you draw out the last syllable. 

"Ay por Dios..." (Oh my God) Miguel chuckles, turning red and biting his lip, hundreds of miles away. "Are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?" 

"Maybe..." You tease, enjoying this effect you're having on him. 

"Not tonight, baby..." Miguel says gently. "Not tonight..." 

"Miguel..." You whine, your body still hungry, begging for some form of release, your desire hanging untapped, parched for his loving attention, the low timbre of his voice driving you mad. 

"I wish you were here with me..." 

"Oh cariño..." he groans, unable to disguise his mutual craving. "I wanna be there too..." He slowly licks his full lips. "I'll make it up to you, baby."

"Yeah?" You whisper. 

"I swear." He promises you. "It needs to be special and perfect the next time we're together. We'll take our time but I won't hold back as long as you're completely comfortable and okay with it." 

You giggle, biting your cheek and clenching at the thought. "I definitely am..."

 

"Beautiful..." He murmurs. "You've given me something else to look forward to all week." 

"I don't think I can wait that long..." You say breathlessly. 

"I don't think I can either." Miguel admits, letting out a chuckle of his own. "Oh....the things you do to me. You've no idea, cariño. Get some sleep now, yeah?" 

As soon as you hung up you both fucked yourselves to oblivion in your separate beds, minds completely drunk with only thoughts of the other hundreds of miles away. 

-----

You're all smiles as Noir picks you up the next day, barely able to function during work, only thinking about Miguel and the fun night you have planned with your girlfriends at the college football game as you sip your large iced coffee and munch on your heated pastry Noir bought you that morning, courtesy of Miguel's Platinum American Express. 

Your heart does flip flops when you find your newest surprise from him in the backseat of the car after work: a Pandora bag with shimmery tissue paper and a lavender bow, eyes widening when you pull out a gorgeous white gold charm bracelet, complete with a crystal heart dangling from it with a note from Miguel. 

 

Can't let those boys at the football game think that you're not taken. ❤️ Be safe tonight, and I'll see you very soon. Thank you for being so open with me last night. I love where this is going. Call me later. 

You haven't left my mind once since the day I met you. 

Love, Miguel

------

"Nuh uh!!! No freaking way!!" Heather, Vivian, and Isla squeal as they run towards the Mercedes, hand in hand while Noir held the door open for them with a humble smile. 

"I always wanted to ride in a G wagon..." Heather's eyes dart around the interior, feeling the leather seats as though she needed to physically touch them to believe they were real. 

"Ladies." Noir says as he comes to the door, holding a box of large, gourmet cookies nearly as big as your hand with frosting that matched your college's spirit colors, along with elegant glass bottles of sparkling lemonade. "A little game day treat for you from the doctor." 

Your face erupted into a grateful smile as your friends gushed and raved about the snacks, relishing the bite of the warm chocolate chip cookie that practically melted in your mouth and the refreshing lemonade that left a little fizz behind on your tongue. Miguel was so damn thoughtful. 

Once you arrive at the game, Noir helps all of you out of the car. "Anything else you need, miss?" Noir asks you as he shuts the door. 

"Um, no, I should be good. Thanks Noir!" 

"You're welcome. I'll be waiting out front for your entourage when the game is over. Have a good time, miss. Call me if you need anything." 

You smile and turn, jogging to catch up to the others. Noir nods and drives off, parking the car only a short distance away in Miguel's designated VIP parking spot in the front row of the stadium parking lot, hanging a special tag in the window. 

Noir gets out, pulling his collar of his trench coat little higher up on his neck in a semi-incognito fashion. You don't know he'll be watching you, and he feels a little bad about that, but, at the same time, he can't say no to the boss. He had good reason to keep an eye on you anyway. Your friends seemed too good to be true, and he had kind of a bad feeling about tonight, their jealousy at not being chosen by Dr. O'Hara rendering them blind. 

As you find your seats, you're sat in between Isla and Will, a friend of Heather's boyfriend, Chase. Will is tall and muscular, a lacrosse player according to Isla. His green eyes lock onto you immediately, a fact not gone unnoticed to Isla's dismay and simmering jealousy. First Dr. O'Hara and now Will? What on Earth was so special about you? 

Will keeps trying to make small talk with you. You try to discourage him with one word answers but he doesn't seem to get the hint, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders when he notices you shivering with the dropping temperature in the stadium. You immediately thought of Miguel but you were utterly freezing, so you decided to accept the gesture for now, praying that he'd take it as platonic. 

Isla seeths quietly when she watches him give you his jacket. Time to put her idea into motion. 

"Hey!" She smacks Heather who's getting handsy with Chase on the other side of her, handing her a bottle of vodka. You feel your blood run cold. There were strict no alcohol rules in the college stadium. The consequences ranged from ejection from the game to as severe as possession charges, intoxication, or even explusion from the university. 

Heather giggles and takes the bottle, looking around and taking a generous shot before passing it to Chase, who passes it to Vivian and the other two guys before it travels back to Isla. She takes a shot, throwing her head back and wincing as she hands you the bottle. 

"N-No thanks." You push the bottle back towards here. 

"Dude," she hisses. "Come on, don't be a little bitch." 

Will interrupts, taking the bottle from her and taking a shot, shooting you a playful wink. "Don't be shy." 

You feel your cheeks get warm under his gaze, Miguel's face coming to your mind again and immediately shaking your head. "No...no thank you." 

"C'mon." Will smirks. "Cute girl like you doesn't like to have some fun?" 

Isla's face is boiling but it melts into a cheesy grin when you turn back to face her. "Right? She's just  adorable huh? Little goody two shoes we like to call her." She elbows you playfully. 

You're getting quite uncomfortable at this point, your eyes searching nervously all around the stadium, trying to make sure nobody around was catching wind of what your group was doing. 

"We all took a shot, now you have to!" Vivian leans over, shaking your knee. She starts chanting your name in a sort of taunt. The guys quickly hopping on the band wagon, hooting and egging you on. 

You're a nervous wreck, just wanting them all to shut up before all of you get kicked out of the university for good, starting to shiver nervously as a couple people nearby you turn around to see what all the commotion was. 

"OKAY!" you snatch the bottle from Isla, bending over and sliding off your seat, taking a quick shot with your head down. You wince and cough uncontrollably as your erratic movements caused some of the alcohol to go down the wrong pipe, wheezing for a moment as the liquor stings and burns down your throat and lungs.

"There ya go, good job." Will pats your back and offers you a sip of his soda to chase it down. You grab it from him, taking several generous gulps without thinking, nearly sputtering again when you discover it's not just soda, but a really strong mixed drink. 

Oh no. 

Will smirks. "Well damn, girl. Slow down." 

You feel your eyes watering up, starting to stumble a little. You hardly drank, so you had absolutely no tolerance, the alcohol flowing and dragging you down like dead weight in the water, a fuzzy feeling in your veins and the outside starting to get real shifty. 

You can't make out much of what's going on around you but it sounds like Isla and the girls are taunting you again and making jokes at your expense, trying to dare you to flash your tits to the guys.

 "C'mon girl, no balls you won't do it!" Heather and Vivian taunt, the guys around you looking at you like fresh meat.

You're utterly sick and confused and drunk, wanting nothing but Miguel to come in and sweep you away from this madness. Confused why your supposed friends were throwing you on display like some sort of sick circus act, expecting you to act like a slut just to appease their disgusting guy friends. 

"S-stop..." You slur, falling backwards as Isla grabs at the hem of your shirt, trying to lift it up. 

"Don't worry, I got you." Will mumbles. You stare up at him in horror and cringe as you smell the strong stench of alcohol on his breath as he's practically putting you in a headlock, one of his hands tries to grope your clothed breasts. 

"N-No!" You whine.."Please!" 

Will is suddenly yanked backwards. Noir flips him so Will is facing him before he utterly decks him in the nose, Will letting out an inhuman noise as he falls to the ground. Noir looks at him like he's scum on the bottom of his shoe before landing a nice kick into the middle of his stomach. Will lets out a large grunt, wheezing pathetically on the stadium floor. 

By now, everyone's looking at you. You're disheveled and terrified with your clothes askew. Noir wraps you in his arms, scooping you up like you weigh nothing.

"You alright, doll face?" His eyes search you with worry. 

You don't answer, just whimper with a trembling lip, shaking your head no as you hang your head in shame, resting your forehead against his chest as you shudder with a sob. 

Noir shoots a glare at your group of so called friends. "You will be dealt with accordingly," He threatens with a growl before getting you out of there.  

The stadium police come swarming, ignoring Noir because they recognize him as one of the assistants of the most powerful man in Nueva York (and the university's top donor). They surround the group, pulling the girls out of their seats and putting Will in handcuffs before ejecting the rest of them from the game. 

-----

Noir tucks you in the backseat of the Mercedes, giving a soft pat to your hair and several murmured apologies as he speeds quickly away. He dials Miguel, and you can hear Miguel's enraged voice booming through the speakers. 

"Bring her to the estate immediately. I'll meet you there." 

"Yes boss." 

"I need the first and last names of EVERYONE involved in this fucking mess." 

"Y-yes boss. Don't worry. Campus police are aware and they're handling it as we speak." 

"Not good enough!" Miguel hisses. I will be handling this now." 

"Yes, doctor, understood." 

"Get her to me safely, Noir." 

"I will, doctor." 

"Thank you." 

Noir hangs up, taking a deep breath.

Those people picked the wrong man to fuck with this time. Miguel would make them pay for what they did to you. 

"I feel sick..." you groan. 

"Hold on, madam....it's alright, we're almost there." Noir eyes the speedometer as it's pushing 110 miles per hour, the countryside zipping past the windows in what seems like mere light seconds. 

You whimper and hold your head in your hands, trying so hard not to vomit as Noir drives furiously towards Miguel's mansion in the countryside. 

----

Tags🖤🫶🏽

@scaleniusrm @laysmt @to-the-endoftheline

@criessoft @bammzyboomy @thatone-writer @oharasfilipinawife @lauraolar14 @scaryplanetdestroyer @amberbalcom14

@ofmenanduhhhwellmen @2099hitmylineyline

@safixiovi @daddysfavoritesexkitten @hikaru-sama

@sassypossumm @leonsbimbogf

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara au #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 #Spotify

[dduane]

So it came to my attention a couple of weeks back that the version of Stealing the Elf-King's Roses that until recently was available over at Ebooks Direct had somehow managed to evade being updated using the cutting-edge Vellum ebook software, when we were doing all the other books in the store.

I have no idea how this happened. Anyway, I've been taking care of that update, and the book will be available again in a day or three.

Meanwhile I'm having the usual conniptions over new cover art and font choices. Fantasy covers these days need to have one or another of a group of very specific looks. So do SF covers. And when you have a novel that splits the difference between the genres (or bashes them together...) the way this one does—as STEKR is an alternate-Earth police procedural—it can seem impossible to get it right. You don't want to leave people who're buying-at-a glance feeling, later on, that they thought they were getting one thing and were sold something else.

The art above is okay enough to go forward with. (Though I'd feel better if I could get Lee something a little more like her judicial robes and less like a "little black [cocktail] dress".) The real problem right now, though, is the font choice.

After some consideration I grabbed the one above from Derek Murphy's fabulous DIY cover site. (Simply because how could I not try a font called The Princess And The Frog?...) But I'm going to go back tomorrow or the next day and try using a much more SF-looking font, and see how that comes out. Who knows... maybe when it's in the store again, we'll offer both cover versions and see what people prefer.

Anyway, this is just an early warning for those of you here who may have picked up the book earlier (possibly as part of our whole store bundle*). When the updated book goes live, you're entitled to be updated to the new version of STEKR, with its improved graphics on the inside as well as the outside, if you feel like it. Just drop a note to the store's support email address, quoting your order number, and we'll refresh your download links when the book's back up in the store.

Meanwhile, for those who may not know anything about this novel: look under the cut for the description.

*Which, along with all our other bundles, is on sale at 20% off right now.

It's CSI, Jim, but not as you know it...!

Psychoforensics specialist and freelance prosecutor Lee Enfield works with the Los Angeles District Attorney’s office as a lanthanomancer—a magic-worker trained in Seeing and revealing the truth.  When she and her fayhound partner Gelert are brought in to do discovery for the investigation into the murder of an Elf named Omren dil’Sorden, at first it seems an ordinary homicide: just one more hate crime in a city and culture where violence against the immensely wealthy, uncannily beautiful Alfen is becoming more and more commonplace.

But Lee and Gelert discover that there's more to this Elf's murder than meets the eye. When political pressure from above the DA's office pushes the two partners out of the investigation, Lee's unwillingness to drop the case gets her and Gelert drafted into a mission to the heart of the forbidden realm of Alfheim. Their involvement makes them targets of a shadowy conspiracy involving powerful multinationals and governments of the Eleven Worlds, intent on taking the secret of the Elves' power for themselves. Drawn into an ambivalent and potentially deadly alliance with the shadowy and much-feared Elf-King, and with the fates of entire worlds on the line, does Lee dare trust her Sight to reveal his true motives—and can the Elf-King be trusted to be on anyone's side but his own?...

This stand-alone fantasy police/legal-procedural novel by DD, originally published in 2002, is reissued exclusively here in a new edition -- revised and updated, with an afterword about the project's genesis and an appendix featuring never-before-published background material on the Eleven Worlds.

#Stealing the Elf-King's Roses #Eleven Worlds meta

[oshaskell]

Dozing noblewoman and her strange young friend.

#bbc ghosts #sophie bone #bbc ghosts robin #bbc ghosts art #art entry #Robin's hair is so much fun :') #tumblr compressed this to hell and back it seems </3 #making as much art as i can before i go back to work next week. RIP #every other month i get frustrated because I can't line art very well anymore and then remember how much more fun lineless painting is #and roll my eyes at myself for having wasted my own time and by the same time the next month ive completely forgotten #<- cursed by adhd bad memory to repeat the same mistakes #now for blog archival purposes: #green #neutrals

[sanctus-ingenium]

we need to talk about Inprnt.com

Following a really good post with more screenshots and evidence by @dynasoar5 i'm going to talk about my own experiences with @inprnt and why I am about to put my shop on indefinite hiatus from Monday the 14th of August.

First of all I'll say that since starting my print shop last year it has been a significant help to me financially - I was able to not worry about affording car insurance or motor tax (together commonly over a thousand euro) when I bought my first car, for example. I am immeasurably grateful to anyone who chose to buy one and I treasure all the pictures I've been sent of my prints hanging up on people's walls. Right now they are displayed in a real (if small) art exhibition in my home town.

(top right print is not from inprnt though)

They're great prints. Never had any complaints about them. But here's what's going on behind the scenes.

Earlier this year, around March or April, Inprnt sales started increasing in regularity. I'd made as much as $600 a week during previous sales when I made proper promo posts here, but with this increase in regularity, I felt that I couldn't make promo posts every single week. And then one day, I'm not sure when tbh, the sale just never ended. It just didn't stop having that "Ending soon! 15% off your order" banner at the top of the site. Right now it says "Final Hours: $5 Worldwide shipping and save up to 35% off your order!" and not even for a second do I believe in this final hours bullshit. It's been 'final hours' for weeks now. Months, even.

Why is this a problem? Well, how tf am I meant to make a promo post for a sale that is always "ending soon!!" and then never ends. One week it'll say "this weekend only!!" and then when the weekend is over, the sale banner just changes its wording and the sale doesn't end. I can't promo this, it makes me look like a liar and a skeevy salesman by association! It makes the site look like it's 1 week from crashing and burning, and the site owners are just scrabbling to suck as much money from artists as possible before they drown.

And they are sucking money from us. To peel back the curtain, Inprnt money can only be transferred to my paypal account 30 days after the sale is made, just in case the order is cancelled and refunded. This means I used to make one withdrawal every couple of months, when there was enough build-up of money to make it worthwhile. It also forbids withdrawing any sum under $50 btw. I would make a withdrawal request and then, after a 10 business day wait, it would reach my Paypal account.

Not anymore! The past few withdrawals have taken over a month to complete. They are straight up keeping my earnings from me for longer the agreed period. This was my last fulfilled withdrawal:

Note the date.

Almost two months.

And here is the latest withdrawal request that still has not been fulfilled.

It's coming up on 1 month and if the pattern continues, it could literally be November or December by the time I fully clear all sales.

So what's going to happen to my print shop? Because my art is currently being exhibited with a QR code linking to the shop, I can't close the shop this week. Instead I will close it on Monday the 14th of August, next week. That means that on the 14th of September, I can withdraw all of the remaining money without having any left over. My account balance will go to 0 and stay there. Although I'll de-list my prints I will leave my account there, because at the end of the day I don't want to leave Inprnt. It still offers the best artist margins and as I'm now unemployed after graduating, the additional support is such a load off my mind. So this is a chance to wait and see - if they improve their services, I'll happily re-open.

It's a big deal to me because selling prints is sort of my ideal life as an artist. I never had the attention span or self-discipline for commission work and I found that it left me creatively stagnant. I always want to try new things, new concepts and ideas, and being able to think "yeah, people will like this as a print" while I experiment is honestly very reassuring. And I know that in going on hiatus, it'll break a lot of "buy a print" links in my circulating posts. Oh well lmao. If you want to buy a print right now - go ahead, it might be your last opportunity. Another way to support me would be to check out my ko-fi for once-off donations or some nice sketchbooks/comics/book samples you can buy, or subscribing to my Patreon.

As of right now, Inprnt owes me $381 (the unfulfilled request submitted above for $186.60 and my current standing balance of $194.80 which takes 30 days from each transaction to clear).

#it's so god damn insulting u know. even redbubble threw its shitty payouts directly into my paypal asap #inprnt

[mediumgayitalian]

“Death Breath! Hey! Wait up!”

Nico bolts. He makes it about ten feet away from his cabin door before Will and his stupid long legs catch up with him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and then immediately tripping over his own foot and sending them both sprawling.

“I hate you,” Nico groans, curling up on the grass.

It’s too early for any of this. He was just trying to get back at Cecil for covering everything he owned in aluminum foil last week — and then he was going to go right the hell back to bed.

He knew he should have fucking shadow travelled.

“Aw, c’mon. You love me.”

Nico pretends to gag. The only thing he gets is Will’s crossed arms and raised eyebrow, so he doubles down and really starts to retch. Whatever. It’s eight thirty in the morning. He fell asleep at five. Rational thinking is a distant, distant memory.

“Whenever you’re done.”

“I will be sick at the thought for the next eight weeks,” Nico informs him. For dramatic effect, he looks up at Will’s face — which he cant even see, since the sun’s in his eyes — and shudders.

“You know, you have a genuine, beautiful talent for the dramatic arts, the likes of which I have never seen. Are you sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

I better not be, ‘cause then all the staring I do at your calves would be real weird, he thinks to himself, then considers whether he can convince Kayla to give him a lobotomy. He thinks she might like the opportunity.

“Piss off,” he says instead of that, artfully schooling his face into the aristocratic mask he’s perfected from his father, squaring his shoulders and looking at Will like he’s a pebble lodged in the flesh of his heel.

Will rolls his eyes. “Get up, Sharpay Evans. You’re gonna stain your shirt worse than you already have.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “My shirt is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I order them in black for a reason.”

He notices a giant grass stain on the side when he stands. He ignores it. Will does not.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the Goth King.”

“Ghost King.”

“Right, right. That helps your case.”

Nico shoves him, fighting back a grin. “Whatever, Solace. What are you bothering me for?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Nico is a deeply cheesy person. Down to the core of him, past all the sarcasm and prickliness and trauma, or whatever, he’s made of fucking mozzarella, because what business does he have comparing Will’s eyes to the morning winter sky? Huh? That’s embarrassing. It isn’t even original. If Nico caught anyone saying shit like that out loud in real life, he’s collapse into the shadows from embarrassment. He needs electroshock therapy.

“I was thinking —”

“Rare,” Nico quips, just to watch Will’s eyebrow twitch. It does. Nico smiles.

“I was thinking,” he repeats, mocking glare in Nico’s direction, “that you and me go to the city this afternoon.”

“You chased me across camp for that?”

“Oh, please, Zombie Face. I chased you maybe twenty yards.”

“I think all that time sniffing rubbing alcohol has deteriorated your brain.”

“I think I’m going to shove you in the lake.”

“Feel free to try. You will not wake up the next morning.”

“Nah.” Will shoots him a smug smile. Nico trips over air. “I can be as annoying as I want and you still won’t kill me. I have impunity.”

Nico rolls his eyes, refusing to dignify that with an answer. The less he acknowledges his own shame, the more likely it will go away on its own. Probably.

“Anyways. Guess what Cecil told me today.”

“His last will and testament?” Nico guesses, suddenly remembering his reason for being up this early.

“No, no, not that.” Will pauses. “Well, I mean, he did. I passed it on to Chiron. He has requested that when you maul him, you avoid his face, because he wants to be a sexy corpse and he can’t do that if you destroy his prettiest features.”

“Noted. Please inform him I will come for him within a window of the next fifteen hours.”

Theres a very particular face Will makes when he finds something genuinely funny. A smile a little more crooked than his regular one, teeth working at his bottom lip to hold it back, left dimple appearing in his cheek. It makes Nico want to do stupid things like press his thumb into said divot. He instead shoves his hands deeply into his pockets.

“I’ll let him know.” He clears his throat. “Anyways. You know what day it is today?”

Nico squints. “Tues…day? No, Wednesday.” He glances at Will. It’s been maybe….three days since their weekly sleepover? No, fuck, four. He thinks. “Thursday. Final answer.”

“Monday,” Will corrects, “and, gods, you need to sleep more. And a calendar. But no, that’s not my point.”

“Feel free to get to it.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Will finally explains. He tries for exasperated, but it doesn’t work — he’s clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waving his hands. “And The Five Seasons is doing half off for couples, so you and I need to go!”

He waves his hands, as if tying off some grand reveal. His (blue blue blue blue) eyes are squeezed nearly shut by the force of his beam, which lessons slightly with every second Nico does not respond.

“William,” he says finally. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “William.”

Will pouts. “What?”

“Explain how this is relevant to me, William.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nico! Don’t be difficult!”

“William,” stresses Nico again. “We are not a couple. Did you hit your head again?”

“Well, duh, Neeks, it’s about the scam!” He flaps his hand in a way Nico assumes is meant to convey something. “We’re gonna — eat! Cheap! By pretending to be a couple!” Now both hands are flopping, paired with wide, imploring eyes. “Obviously!”

“Obviously,” Nico repeats, slowly. He instructs one half of his brain to keep its focus on not melting into a puddle of blushing embarrassed goo, and the other to exercise restraint and not strangle the boy in front of him. A headache begins to press behind his eyes. “Will, what the shit.”

“You of all people!” Will throws his hands up. “You love scamming people! You hate corporate holidays! You frequently throw pebbles at people who look, and I quote, too obnoxiously happy! You’re the best hater I know! You should be on board!”

He makes a compelling point. Not that Nico is going to make that easy for him.

“You seem very invested in this,” Nico points out. He manages to keep his voice tastefully judgmental, which he’s very proud of.

“Of course I am! I want cheap Five Seasons food, godsdammit!” He pauses, switching tactics. “Nico,” he says softly. He puts a gently hand on Nico’s forearm, making him freeze. He is suddenly very, very close, and wow, did his hair always frame his face in gentle waves? Has that always been a thing? “I really, really want to scam a restaurant with you.” He smiles, small and crooked and gods, Will doesn’t look dangerous very often, but holy Hades when he does — “Will you make my Valentines, and scam a restaurant with me?”

His fingers begin to trace little circles in the inside of Nico’s wrist.

“Yes,” he squeaks, voice cracking.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pulling his fist. “Yes, hell yes, Nico! We are going to scam the shit out of this restaurant! Half off for couples? How about half off for heathens! Free money, baby! Fuck yeah!”

He turns back towards Nico, smile still wide and radiant, blinking eyes pools of sparkling excitement. Nico’s knees go a little weak. “I’ll come get you at 2! Thank you, Neeks!”

He runs off back to his cabin, only tripping twice. Nico watches him go, feeling a little like he’s tripping, too, with all the swooping his stomach is doing.

“Dude,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. “Be normal. Christo.”

It takes him ten straight minutes to get back to his cabin, even though he’s standing at the porch.

———

The obsidian handle of the Hades’ cabin door rattles.

“Neeks!” calls a voice behind the door, “you ready to go?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Nico scrambles over to the mirror and stares at himself. He turns a little to the left. He scowls. “Shit!” Tugging the shirt off, he turns back to his closet, tossing the piece of clothing to join the rest of its brethren on the floor. “Shitfuck. Fuckshit. Shit.”

“Nico!”

“Coming!”

Tapping his foot rapidly, he looks harder, as if that will magically make the right shirt pop into existence, perfectly pressed, on a hanger. “Shit.”

“What could possibly be taking so long? You’ve had two hours!”

“I care about my appearance, Mr Flip Flops and Scrubs!”

“Bleh bleh! Hurry up!”

Nico bites his lip. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t, really. Five Seasons is not actually a fancy restaurant. He and Will just like to joke that it is, because it has tablecloths. They’ve gone there dozens of times before; they stop every time they’re in the city for supply runs or visits to Olympus or to harass their summer-only friends at school. There is literally no reason for Nico to be stressing about what stupid shirt he should wear. Gods know Will is wearing cargo shorts.

“Nico!”

“I’m coming!“

Scowling, he digs through the pile of discarded clothes until he finds the first shirt he’d put on — a dark green button up that was given to him, along with a bunch of other fancy clothes he never wears, by the Aphrodite cabin. He hastily shoves their buttons through their holes, cursing when he mixes them up and has to start over, and sprints over to the mirror to inspect himself.

The shirt looks good. It’s a little tight on the arms, which he suspects was on purpose, and the colour compliments his skin nicely. The buttons are a dark, shiny brown that match his eyes. They pair nice with his simple jeans and black vans, casual enough that he doesn’t look like he’s going to Prom, or anything stupid like that, but dressy enough that it looks like he put effort in. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make the staticky strands sit right, but gives up pretty quickly. It’s okay if one thing is a little messy, right?

“Finally,” huffs Will as the door swings open. He glances Nico up and down, then grins. “You look great.”

Nico was right. He is indeed wearing cargo shorts, although to his credit they are his one pair without various Head Medic stains. His sweater, too, is a pretty blue, V-necked, long-sleeved, and a completely different style than his shorts. It clashes horribly. His shoes are, for some reason, bright solid pink. Nico suspects Hecate magic. His hair is braided in two French braids, his favourite way to wear it. Nico believes he is also wearing a touch of sparkly eyeshadow.

“You look dorky.”

Will grins wider. “Thank you! I wouldn’t let anyone help me choose something.”

“You should have.”

“I wanted it to be authentic, Nico. Also, got something for you.” From behind his back, he pulls out a handful of daisies, black dirt clinging to their roots, like he plucked them straight from the ground. Nico is inexplicably endeared by the image, and prays the smile on his face is less soft than he knows it is.

“You got me flowers?”

“Well, duh, Avril Lavigne. We gotta sell the scam.”

Nico brings them close to his face and inhales deeply. They smell fresh and earthy and sweet.

“That’s a stupid reason to bring someone flowers.”

“Give them back, then.”

“No. Fuck off. They’re mine.”

Will’s eyes twinkle. “Okay.” He holds out his arm. “Ready to go?”

The jump is close enough that Nico can convince him to shadow travel, and not just because he sadistically looks forward to the shade of green Will’s face will get after. As dangerous as he knows it can be, he misses it, sometimes. There’s something comforting about it, something soothing and familiar. Shadow travelling to the restaurant eases any lingering nerves.

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere I can’t hear you,” he says as they materialize in an alley.

Will’s cheeks puff out. “I’m gonna do it on your fuckin’ shoes.”

“I will leave your ass here, Solace, I swear to the gods.” Despite his grumbling, he rests a cool hand on the back of Will’s neck until he’s recovered. “Good?”

“Yeah.” He straightens, dusting off his sweater. “Let’s go.”

Nico follows him down the alley and onto the street, elbowing past the crowd of pedestrians until they approach the familiar glass doors. He rolls his eyes fondly every time Will apologizes to someone.

“You need to be meaner.”

Will sticks his tongue out and tries to trip him. Unfortunately, he only manages to throw himself off balance, nearly crashing to the floor of Nico hadn’t caught him.

“Good gods, Solace.”

“That was your fault!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The doors of the restaurant are absolutely plastered in cheesy red hearts and bows and cartoon kisses. And, as promised, a giant sign promising couples a fifty percent discount on their meals.

“My love,” says Will dramatically, holding out a hand, “shall we?”

Nico sighs, resting his hand delicately in Will’s. It sparks with electricity, like it always does. “I suppose.”

“Party pooper.”

“I’m not hearing oh, Nico, thank you so much for doing this incredibly stupid thing with me, you are my dearest friend and I owe you one. Or three, for some reason.”

Will’s mouth twitches. “Oh, Nico, thank you so much for —”

Nico shoves him, laughing. “Shut up.”

They’re seated pretty quickly, server smiling when they take notice of their clasped hands. Will orders chicken tenders, like he does every single time without fail, and water. Nico orders from the adult menu and absolutely does not make any kind of show about it.

“There is nothing babyish about chicken tendies.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“Is this about you having a credit card? That does not make you more adult than me. It makes you a nepo baby.”

“Mhm. Sure thing.”

“Nobody likes a nepo baby, Nico.”

“Look, I think your drink comes with a complimentary sippy cup.”

Teasing and joking with Will is so easy that Nico forgets the core of their mission. The pink garlands hanging from the ceiling fade into the background — he’s too busy crying with laughter when Will nearly chokes to death on a french fry, too busy flicking a forkful of food at his shoulder just to make him shriek, too busy kicking his shin under the table. He catches Nico’s foot between his the fourth time he tries it, keeping it trapped for the rest of the meal. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“And your bill,” says their server when they’re done, setting down a slip of paper. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but do you two qualify for today’s discount?”

Will smirks widely. “We do,” he says, with no small amount of pleasure. He shoots Nico the least subtle wink of all time. Nico rolls his eyes, cheeks going a little pink.

“Great! You guys have a wonderful Valentine’s day.”

“You, too.”

The server hurries away, turning to their other tables. Will’s smile is wide and smug.

“I knew it would work.”

“Duh. Easiest scam in the world, Solace.”

He sticks his tongue out. “And thus the best payout. You’re welcome.”

“Blah, blah. Gimme the bill.”

“Um, no way, di Angelo. I’m paying.”

He opens his wallet before Nico can stop him, mouthing as he counts the bills.

“What? No! I’m paying.”

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not.” He sets down a couple twenties. Nico snatches them right back up. “You we’re just complaining about my credit card!”

“Exactly. Thus my need to continue to pretend you don’t have one, so we can continue our friendship.”

“Solace, I swear to the gods.”

“di Angelo, I swear to the gods.”

Nico stares him down. Will stares back. He doesn’t even try to hide his lazy grin, his laughing eyes.

“You’re not paying for this by yourself,” Nico says firmly. “You don’t have a job. My father invented being rich.”

“Sure, but I made you come with me.”

“Ugh!” Nico throws his hands up, imagining how satisfying it would be to wrap his hands around that long neck (followed by his teeth and his tongue and his —). “Why are you impossible? I would’ve gone with you no matter what, stupid!”

As soon as he says it he wants to stick his head in wet cement. For a brief second, something like surprise flits across Will’s face, before he schools it back into his teasing smirk.

“Well, obviously, Death Breath. I’m excellent company.”

“You’re literally the most annoying person I know.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me, of your own volition.”

“…I’m paying next time.”

Will grins. “Whatever you say.”

They walk around the city for a while before heading back to camp. Will says it’s because he needs the air, Nico knows it’s because he wants him to rest a little longer before trying to shadow travel again. He tries not to let himself get all melty inside.

(Nobody willingly hangs out around the city for the ‘air’. He’s a shit liar. Nico should be offended.)

It’s nearing curfew by the time they melt back out from behind Thalia’s tree, extra shadows of early evening making the trip easier.

“Those fries are going to make a reappearance,” Will grimaces.

“Not if you don’t want me to kick you in the face.”

“You’d never.”

He would indeed never. But he would rather pass away than admit it, so.

“C’mon, dot face. It’s getting late. You have a cabin to run.”

“Oh, Nico,” Will says in a breathy falsetto, “are you walkin’ me to my cabin? How chivalrous!”

“Nevermind.”

“No no no no no I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Nico allows himself to be tugged, weak to Will’s giggles. “Walk me to my cabin. C’mon.”

Sighing, as if he’s so put out, Nico does. Some point in between Thalia’s tree and the amphitheater, Will’s hand slides down from around his wrist to tangled in between his fingers. Coincidentally, his mouth goes dry.

As they approach the Apollo cabin, Will slows to a stop.

“Hey.” He squeezes their fingers together, smile soft in the dying light of dawn. “I had fun today. Thank you for coming with me.”

Nico swallows. One day, those words will be said in a different context, if everything goes well for Nico, and he’s not sure how the hell he’s going to handle it without bursting into flame. “Yeah, well. Anything to scam a restaurant.”

“Right.”

They walk the last few steps to the cabin, rickety porch steps creaking under their feet as they approach the open door. Will doesn’t let go.

“Hey, Nico.”

“…Yeah?”

Quick as a flash, Will leans in and presses the softest of kisses to his mouth. The noise Nico makes is practically punched out of his lungs, spine going rigid in surprise.

“You can pay for our next date, okay?”

He’s gone before Nico can respond, ducking into his cabin with a small smile and closing the door behind him. Nico stands there, like an idiot, for three solid minutes at the very least, distantly aware of the giggles coming through the open window.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing his bottom lip.

“The little fucker set me up.”

Valentine’s day scam. Please. The only scam today was the scam of Will’s sneaky asking.

Nico smiles.

“You’re a mess, Solace!” he shouts, knowing damn well Will is listening.

He’s right. “Goodnight, Nico!”

Shaking his head, Nico runs back to his cabin, entire body tingling and cheeks aching with his grin.

#they should argue more actually it’s so funny #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #will/nico #nico/will #banter #valentine’s day #fluff #fic #my writing #longpost #not established relationship but it might as well be

[cuubism]

emotional support part 3 of physical therapy au

--

It is not exactly a short walk to Dream's flat, but Hob drops him off at his door anyway. Dream can't remember the last time someone did something like that for him. Took so much time just to make him feel safer.

He should just thank Hob and go in, but instead he hesitates in the entryway. He can't deny how it makes him feel, Hob's kindness, and interest in Dream's art, and then him jumping to Dream's defense so viscerally and unapologetically. Hob is... good. Kind. Dream does not know if he deserves it, but for a moment he allows himself to want it.

"You going to be okay?" Hob asks. His eyes are so kind. And Dream wants. It's been so long since he's wanted.

He leans in to kiss Hob and--

--Hob catches him with a hand against his chest.

Dream jumps back, shame coiling hot in his throat. Even when he thinks someone kind might want him, he is still only misreading--

"Dream," Hob says. His expression is still kind, though his smile is a bit pained. "I can tell you're spiraling, love."

That word again. Why would Hob say it if he does not mean it?

"If I am wholly wrong and you do not feel anything then please just say so," Dream sniffs, trying and failing not to feel completely stupid.

"You're not," Hob says--which catches Dream before he can fall completely into the net of melancholy that had begun to entrap him. "I'm just--" he runs a hand through his hair with a self-deprecating laugh, his general self-assuredness slipping for the first time Dream has seen. "I'm trying to be sensible."

Dream doesn't understand. It's true that Dream is not exactly a sensible choice in partner, that's been proven, but--

"It just doesn't look very good does it?" Hob continues. "Chase off your asshole ex only to come onto you at your own home? That's real respectful, isn't it?"

"I came onto you," Dream points out. Hob wants to be respectful of Dream? The bar is currently low when it comes to respecting Dream. Dream thinks he would rather have the kindness than the respect. "And I do not mind."

"Well, that's the problem, isn't it?" Hob says. "Look, believe it or not, and you'll probably believe it, but I've been widely known to be impulsive as hell. But I still don't want to be the guy jumping on you the moment you get out of a bad relationship."

This... had not truly occurred to Dream. "I do not think you will be like him."

Hob takes his hand then, the bad one, the one he's fixed. He does it carefully. "No, I know. But I'd hazard you didn't think he'd be like that before you got together, either."

"I... suppose not." Hob is different, though. He knows it.

"Let's just finish our work with your hand first, yeah?" Hob says, squeezing his hand lightly. He seems genuine. He does not seem like he is just making up reasons to turn Dream down. "I think you need to get back to some normalcy, and then you'll know for sure if you really want this."

"I do want this," Dream says. He does not want to lose touch with that feeling. Of wanting something for himself.

"Then you'll still feel that way later on, hm?"

Dream can't find fault with his argument. Though he can't help but still feel that little curl of shame. Embarrassment.

Hob raises Dream's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. Dream's breath catches.

"Goodnight, Dream," Hob says, letting his hand go again. "I'll see you next week."

And with that, and a smile, he leaves Dream standing in his entryway.

Dream presses his hand to his chest. Perhaps Hob is right. Perhaps he is too... fragile... for this right now. He certainly feels fragile. But Hob makes him feel less so. Not more.

But Hob is not the one who ended up in a relationship with someone who reacted to disappointment by smashing his hand with a hammer. So perhaps Dream should heed his relationship advice, and not his own.

He retreats into his empty flat. Shuts the door, locks it, deadbolts it, and shoves a heavy box of unpacked books in front of it for good measure. Then sits on the floor where there should be a couch and takes out his paints. It still hurts his hand to hold the brush for any length of time. But even to this day, it's the only thing that soothes him.

~~

It's just typical that the time Hob really wants someone is the time he decides he needs to be responsible for once in his life. But he just... he needs time. He needs to know that Dream isn't just... fixating on him because Hob's actually treated him nicely when the last person who cared for him didn't. He doesn't want to do this if Dream is just using him as an emotional rebound from a bad relationship. He's become too enamored with him for that. And he's no king of ideal relationships himself, but he doesn't think it's the best time to be starting a relationship when Dream is still carrying the literal scars of the last one.

Damn if he doesn't regret turning him down, though. Just a little.

He hopes Dream doesn't decide to bail on their regular appointment. In fact, since dropping Dream home, he's been so fixated on the possibility that he fucked it all up that he's stress-cleaned his entire flat. Then he bought finger paints to see for himself how well it works as an exercise. All he's really succeeded in doing is proving that Dream is better at art with one and a half hands than Hob is with two, but maybe it'll make Dream feel better.

He brings his attempt at finger painting to their next appointment. And he's so relieved when Dream does show up. He looks a bit more balanced than he had the other day, too. The hurt in his expression when Hob had turned him down had been painful.

"I decided to try out your exercise," Hob tells him. "To prove to you how well you're doing, if nothing else." He shows him the painting.

And Dream bursts out laughing.

"Hey," Hob protests, but can't stop his smile at the joy on Dream's face. "Don't be mean about it or anything."

"What is this meant to be?" Dream asks, taking the painting and studying it.

"It's a landscape."

Dream turns it ninety degrees. Squints. "Ah, yes, I see that now."

"Well now you're just being a dick about it."

Dream only smiles, then puts the painting away in his bag.

"Oh, you're taking it with you, too?"

"You have mine," says Dream, pointing at the painting of cats that's still propped against the wall by Hob's desk. "So I will put yours on my fridge."

"Oh, great," Hob grumbles. But he can't be upset about the smile on Dream's face.

He's glad to see that putting a pause on things hasn't hurt their developing friendship. If anything it seems better. Perhaps Dream's had time to think things over, too.

"But you see, don't you?" Hob says. "Even while you're recovering, your skills are still way better."

"I... see, yes," Dream agrees, ducking his head. "I. I did try painting again. But it hurts."

Because you're probably overdoing it, Hob thinks. "How's your hand feel now?"

"...Sore," Dream admits.

"Can I see?"

Dream gives him his hand, and Hob feels victorious that it's with less hesitance than he had once done. He starts massaging Dream's palm where it feels the most tense, and watches Dream's wary expression--he must have thought Hob was just going to move his hand this way and that and make it hurt--melt into surprise.

"Do you do this with all of your clients, Hob?" he asks, weakly.

"Only the ones I really like," Hob says, and winks. Can't have Dream thinking he's not interested, after all.

Dream blushes, but lets Hob keep playing with his hand. He really does have such gorgeous hands. If Hob ever runs into that ex again he might have to do more than punch him.

"That helping?" Hob asks, and Dream nods, but he's still blushing so it's somewhat unclear in exactly what manner it's helping.

"Good," Hob says anyway. And finds he's truly hopeful that they'll get there. With Dream's dexterity, with... other things.

It's just going to take a bit of time.

#my brain is somewhere else this week and this is the only thing i feel capable of writing. not even because of fixating on it just because #it's so much simpler than my other fics 😂 this is all I am capable of handling brainpower wise #probably just need more sleep... #also dream in this universe needs sooo much therapy oh my god #dreamling #my writing #physical therapy fic #long post #cw abuse

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Am I Acting Weird?

Walking home, I just can't shake the feeling that something is off, but I can't figure out what! I asked Coach about it before leaving practice, but he just laughed. He said I was weird not to appreciate the effort I've put into football lately.

He's right. I've been busting my ass, but that's exactly what I'm talking about!

I've never given a damn about improving my rank or even showing up to conditioning! I just wanted to hang out with my buds and mess around with the cheerleaders.

But now, it's like none of that matters! I've skipped the last three parties to bulk up at the gym! I haven't been able to drink anything other than protein shakes, and my meals are always loaded with meat. It's like I can't control myself anymore! Why can't I just take a night off and drink beers with the rest of the boys?

I let out a long groan of frustration and trudge upstairs. My younger sibling Max laying on the couch while the TV blares his favorite show.

Max is the weird one! He's like 18, and all he does is play videogames and sit around all day.

I quickly strip off my sweaty football uniform and toss it into the corner of my bedroom. My muscles are already tired and aching from yesterday's practice, so I can't imagine how sore I'll be feeling when I wake up for tomorrow's early morning workout; something I only recently started doing everyday.

Like every other night, I pull my usual at-home clothes on; a stiff white shirt, black apron, and bowtie. This outfit might seem weird, but it feels nice, especially when I tie everything up extra tight. Max showed me how. Sure, it's not comfortable at all, and I look like a waiter more than anything, but that doesn't bother me.

My little brother is annoying as hell, but he's usually right. Me and dad used to tease him all the time, but we've come around since then.

Now that I'm finally at home and suited up, I can feel my shoulders relax. Whatever was bothering me before can wait. I pull some shiny black shoes on, slip a pair of white gloves over my hands, and carefully step back downstairs. It's important that I make as little noise as possible when I'm home. I wouldn't want to disturb anybody.

"Hey, big bro," Max calls from the couch, "Your home."

"Yes, Max," I answer, taking my usual position next to the couch.

This is where I stand when I'm in the living room anymore. It's just where I feel most comfortable, and it's right next to a little cart of useful supplies. I grab a towel and sling it over my shoulder. It's always a good idea to have one on me when I'm at home. Never know when I'm going to need it.

"My shoes could use a polish while we chat," Max adds, flipping through the channels.

"You got it, Max."

See, the towel does come in handy. I quickly fetch a container of shoe polish on my little cart and kneel by his feet. I've been polishing Max's shoes for a few weeks now, so I've gotten pretty good at it. He doesn't really appreciate the art of it, but I guess it's just something that I'm into.

"How's football? You the best player yet?" Max asks nonchalantly from above.

"No, Max. I've gotten a lot bigger lately, but the quarterback is still a lot more muscular and skilled."

He rolls his eyes and adds, "Give it time I guess. You're going to keep at it until your a professional player like the ones on TV."

I stop buffing his sneaker for a second and glance up at him. His attention is now completely fixated on an NFL videogame.

"Max, that's just it," I admit, "Lately I've been working out and bulking up like I'm some pro-athlete, but I'm not. I don't think I even want to be! That life just seems so grueling."

Max pauses his game and looks down at me solemnly.

I avert my gaze and add, "It's just weird that lately I've put so much work into something I don't want."

"You think that's weird?" he dryly raises an eyebrow.

I just shake my head and turn my attention back to my brother's sneaker. It's going to need a lot more polish before it shines.

The door opens and our father arrives home.

"Hey, boy," he dismissively calls when he sees me on the floor. Then he notices my brother lounging on the couch.

"Max," he says with a bit more emphasis, dipping his head a little.

"Dad, I'm really hungry right now, so could you get a move on with dinner?" Max answers.

"Of course, Max."

Our father immediately drops his keys and briefcase and shuffles into the kitchen. I've always admired him. He played football in college too, so we've always bonded over sports.

But lately, he only seems interested in his work. I rarely see him because he always stays late and picks up night shifts at the office. It's done wonders for his career, so I guess that's good. He's been given a few raises recently for all the extra effort he's put in, but I can tell it's taking a bit of a toll on the guy.

"Big bro, just look at Dad," Max explains to me, "He doesn't complain about anything being weird, does he? He just keeps his mouth shut and goes to work. Be more like him."

I don't speak as I switch to shining his other sneaker. Max is probably right. If Dad can power through long hours in the office to bring home a decent salary, then I can surely shut up and dedicate myself to a career in football.

It doesn't take long for our father to return to the living room.

"The food is almost ready, but here are some drinks while you wait, Max," he says.

Our dad seems minorly annoyed by the starched clothing he has on, but that suit is his typical home outfit. It looks even more stiff and uncomfortable than my get up, but I guess he's willing to put up with it.

Max stands before I can finish at his feet and grabs a glass from our father.

"Whoops, here you can finish them," he says after a swig of wine, kicking the shoes off in my direction, "And then take care of the laundry in my room."

"Sure thing, Max," I answer, but he's already turned his attention to dad.

"Is your wallet in your briefcase?" he asks, "I'm taking a few friends out tonight."

"It is, Max, and the car keys are next to it. The car is low on gas. Should I take it to a station before you go out?"

"Yeah," Max adds between sips, "Take care of that while I eat."

"Of course, Max."

"Oh, and Dad."

"Yes, Max?"

"Start making double portions for big bro's meals. He needs to bulk up faster if he's going to usurp the current quarterback."

I pretend not to hear, and finish up my work with Max's shoes. Maybe my new focus on football hasn't been that strange after all. It's not really the life I thought I'd be pursuing, but it's kind of nice being bigger and more athletic than I used to be. It's not really weird if I think about it. Maybe I can even get a few more reps in after I finish Max's laundry.

I hope he has a good time out with his friends tonight. It's weird, but I don't really know what else I'd spend my time doing.

#gay hypnosis #mind control #hypno story #gay mind control #hypnotized #bow tie

[uranometrias]

hello aly! 🤎 i saw that you were receiving requests and it's okay if i ask for something about hotch? 🥺 perhaps him falling in love with jack's art teacher, i'm in the mood for something really fluffy because i need comfort haha take care pretty soul!

this is such a sweet ask. and yes that's more than okay, you never have to ask xx it's kind of short, i hope it's still okay, i focused mainly on their first meeting, but i am open to writing more works for this universe.

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"Good morning, bud!" you don't have to fake excitement or enthusiasm as Jack Hotchner bounds into your classroom. You crouch, kneeling so that you're face to face with him, as he practically glows. His smile is so bright you fear you may have to squint as he's quick to jump into your arms, chubby little hands looping around your neck. You tried your best to make every single student that walked through your door feel welcome, but they all weren’t as agreeable as Jack Hotchner was.

The hug is comforting, sweet, and it reminds you why you got up every morning to work for less than you were worth. The joy you instilled in your kids made everything worthwhile. Jack pulls back after a moment, exclaiming that you were squeezing too tight. It makes you chuckle slightly as you brush a bit of stray lint off his shoulders. “Sorry, kiddo! You’re just too stinking cute.” You hum, and you enjoy this part of the job. You adored all of your students.

Hellos at the beginning of the day, and goodbyes as they poured out into the hallways to head to their next class. Specials at your school, which consisted of Art, Music, and Gym, happened on rotation. You had Jack’s class first period, four times out the week. His entire class though, had been angels. Through the year you'd only had about two incidents, and both included students fighting over who's turn it was on paint day. You finally let Jack go with one more squeeze.

He giggles, which is a tell that your hugs weren't all that bad. You're a bit startled when an unfamiliar man steps through the door behind him. He's wearing a collared button up, with jeans, and a matching belt. "Um, excuse me, Sir." you hold a hand up, quickly moving to usher Jack, and the other entering students away from the door. "You can't come in here." you affirm, and you look around to see if there was anything in your direct vicinity that could be used to attack.

You settle on a foam brush, clutching it by it's bristles, as you hold it out towards the man. "Stay back, or I'll-" you look down at the paint brush, and then back at the mystery assailant. "I'll use this, and you won't like it." you assert, and your students are giggling, seemingly amused by the situation. You don't see the humour in it. You'd met every single parent and guardian of your students, and this man had never been there. Which made him a flight risk, a danger.

"I think you've got the wrong idea." the man speaks, and his voice stands out. It's very stern, but not hostile. He has a commanding presence, and he seems to appraise you diligently. You take a look at your hand-print dress, and suddenly feel very childish. You loved your job, mostly because you could dress without much judgement. It wasn't like the kids were going to tell you that you looked childish.

"You can never be too careful." you retort sharply, and you readjust your grip on your paint brush. You hoped you looked a bit intimidating, but you wouldn't count on it. "And I don't see a visitor's badge." you add a second after. "Jack, come this way." you prompt, and he seems to stall. He looks from you to the man and back again. He was conflicted, for starters he had his father, his hero standing on one side. And you, his favorite teacher of all time on the other.

"Bye-bye, Daddy." and his choice is made, the small child waving his hand boldly before he's rushing off to his desk, and you're stuck. Aaron, is surprised. Eyes trailing after his son with that feeling every parent has when they realize their child is growing up. It forces a puff of air to escape him, as his eyes quickly flit back to you. His eyebrows raise, dark eyes swimming as realization sets in. Usually Jack was dropped off by his Aunt Jessica Brooks, she was a lovely lady.

She'd mentioned Jack's parental situation. How his mother had passed a few years back, and how his father had a demanding job. You'd given up on ever laying eyes on the man. "You're Mr..." you trail off as your voice cracks obnoxiously. "You're Jack's dad?" you ask, and he lets out a quiet laugh, one that's more a nose exhale than anything else. It's a fitting sort of laugh, you hardly expected the man to be the type to guffaw or even chuckle in an ugly sort of way.

"Not that you can tell by the way he took off." he retorts, and there's still an amusement that rests in his tone. "Aaron," he finally introduces. "Hotchner." he finishes, hand shooting out. It must have been habitual. You didn't know much about the FBI, but you did know that they were sticklers, stone serious. You'd done a project on greatest heroes, and Jack had managed a piece that consisted of a JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid. They'd been paired up with a piece that was solely his dad, his superhero. His favorite.

"I'm Jack's teacher." you introduce, as if that didn't go without saying. You reach forward with your free hand, allowing his palm to press against yours. His shake is firm, but you're surprised at how nice his hands feel. There's this spark, a feeling of lightning zigzagging from him to you, and it makes you leap back, paint brush clattering to the ground. The class seems to get lost in the mishap, watching with bated breath for what would possibly come next.

Aaron doesn't bat an eye as he bends down, crouching to pluck the brush up from the ground. He looks bemused, standing back to his full height as he holds your weapon of choice out towards you. "You should be more careful. It's a pretty dangerous weapon in the right hands." and he's making a joke. You find yourself gobsmacked, it was too much for him to be charismatic, and attractive. No, he had to pick one or the other. Still, you grab the brush, despite your fear of sparking again.

"You just got lucky you were vetted by the right kid." you offer your own sort of joke, and his smile makes you proud on the inside.

"I'm sorry for the late appearance." he changes the subject, but it doesn't feel forced or charged. "I meant to get here sooner so that I could lay eyes on Jack's favorite teacher..." you feel proud at the compliment. "You're all he talks about when his day is done." he adds, and you're turning to look at Jack. The kids were separated at their tables, multicolored smocks already on their bodies. They were more than ready for the day. "But as I'm sure you're aware, my job can sometimes keep that from happening." he says and you nod.

"Jess did mention you had a hectic schedule with your job, I understand." your hand waves tiredly, brushing off his apologies. You didn't need them, not when it was so clear that Jack adored his father. And it was more than clear that Jack was Aaron's world. "I'm just glad you finally got here." and you try not to sound as breathless as you feel. "It's important for teachers and parents to be on the same page." you prompt, and Aaron's head nods. You don't know if he really believes you or if it's all politics in a way.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." and he looks so sincere. He's staring at your face intently, and you feel self conscious, blinking too much to be normal. "You've got a little..." and he's motioning towards you. Mortification is the only thing you feel as you run through your morning routine. You'd scrubbed your tongue and teeth thrice before leaving the house. You'd cleaned out any evidence of sleep from your eyes, so what exactly could be out of order.

You swipe frantically at your face and nose, hoping it wasn't something that would make you look like a dunce or a fool in front of Aaron. He chuckles a bit as he extends a hand. "Uh, may I?" he asks, and you're nodding before you should be. It's almost instantaneous the way he's cupping your chin, tilting you head, and dragging his thumb over your cheek. He removes his hand a second later, you could almost pretend it didn't happen. That is, until he's swiping paint on his jeans. Damn, you were such an idiot.

You'd been prepping paint stations for your lesson on symbolism. You must have forgotten to clean up your face before the first bell rang signaling the day's beginning. "That's so embarrassing." you exclaim, and another student is entering the classroom, quickly hugging your side, as you offer an awkward wave to another parent. You squeeze the girl a bit, before she's bounding off to her seat.

"You know, I think it builds character." Aaron promises, and you snort. "Besides, it was kinda intimidating." he's lying, and you know it. He's trying to make you feel less shameful about it. "Anyone looking to mess with your class is in for it." and you're certain your face is visible exposing your humiliation, and subsequent embarrassment at the hands of one of your student's parent.

"Enough, enough." you plead, and here's where you get a full laugh. It's handsome just like everything else about him. "Your sarcasm's far from helpful." you huff, and you're dragging your hand over the same place he'd touched. It tingles as you drag your hands down, and you hope for your sanity Jess is back tomorrow. Garnering a foolish infatuation for your student was the last thing you wanted to happen.

"I'll do my best to keep that in mind for next time." he replies. The bell chirps overhead, a signal that class needed to begin. "Don't work too hard." he prompts, and your heart stutters in your chest. You feel like a fool, he was just being nice, a gentleman like his job required him to be.

"I'll try my best." you promise, and he smiles at you like he's pleased.

"I'll see you later, bud!" and he's addressing Jack, who ignores protocol. He bounds across the room to offer his dad a big hug, he squeezes him tight, Aaron hugging him back maybe tighter. It's sweet, but you feel like you're intruding.

"Say bye-bye to daddy, Miss L/N." Jack pleads, and you blink.

Bye daddy. And you scold your horrid mind. Jack's waiting expectantly, and it seems his father is as well.

"Goodbye, Mr. Hotchner." you huff out, and he's smirking.

"Goodbye, Miss L/N." he matches your exasperated tone. And then he's leaving, and you're heaving a sigh of relief. Jack's going back to his seat, face just as smug as it could be for someone his age. It takes you a second to float back to Earth, staring at the doorway like he'd come back, but he doesn't. You inhale sharply, good riddance. You shuffle slowly to the door, shutting it as you soon address your class.

"We're gonna talk about Symbolism today." you announce, and the kids who were far from listening finally take you in. "Does anyone want to take a guess as to what Symbolism is?" you question, and a flurry of hands shoot up in the air. There's one girl, little Mary, who looks like she's doing the pee pee dance as she tries to get you to choose her. So you do, "Go ahead and give it a shot, Mary."

"Miss L/N, are you gonna marry Jack's dad?"

Maybe today was the wrong day for paint and symbolism.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #hotchner imagine #hotch smut #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotch x you #hotch fluff #hotch imagine #aaron hotchenr fluff #aaron hotch fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff

[carolmunson]

let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)

With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.

At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie. 

g’morning pretty  ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy

He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.

what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go. 

You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture.  “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.” 

“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it.  “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?”  “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.”  “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.

i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again. 

i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :)  see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :) 

He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning.  You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.”  “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you.  “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks.   “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.”  “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.”  He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed.  “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.”  “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.”  “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?” 

“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”

“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.” 

You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.” 

“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?” 

A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.” 

“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable. 

“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice. 

“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face. 

“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”

“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.” 

“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?” 

He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.” 

“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.

“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?” 

“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.” 

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return,  “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them. 

“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again. 

“Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday. 

You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.” 

It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s  just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles. 

“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him. 

“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.” 

You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.” 

“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do. 

‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’

“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.” 

“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.” 

“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.” 

“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”

“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.” 

“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.” 

His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”   

“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.” 

“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?” 

“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.” 

“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card. 

“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions. 

“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.” 

You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?” 

“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box. 

“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you. 

“What can I get you?” he asks again. 

“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take. 

He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see. 

“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.” 

Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck. 

“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically. 

“Another banger,” he exclaims. 

“You know this song?” you ask with surprise. 

“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did. 

“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines. 

You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s. 

“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He’s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it. 

“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.” 

He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is. 

“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway. 

“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.” 

“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’” 

“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target. 

“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you. 

He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.” 

He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?”  “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.” 

“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it. 

You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.

“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?” 

You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through. 

“We have all day, right?” you smirk. 

“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?” 

“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow. 

“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.” 

“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.” 

He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?” 

“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand. 

“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.” 

“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.” 

“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels? 

“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy? 

“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?” 

“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.” 

“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly. 

“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.” 

When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever. 

You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing. 

“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.” 

Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.

“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf. 

“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?” 

“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.” 

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze. 

“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.” 

“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.” 

You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something. 

“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be. 

“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store. 

“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.” 

He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.” 

You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it. 

“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?” 

“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”

“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.” 

You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.” 

“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.” 

His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again. 

“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.” 

“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you. 

“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention. 

“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words. 

“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?” 

The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest. 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.” 

Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?” 

You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?” 

“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.” 

hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted  very godly of you

He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries.  “Easter candy?” he asks. 

“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.” 

“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?” 

“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?” 

“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.” 

“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in. 

“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile. 

“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?” 

“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully. 

“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you. 

“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease. 

“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.” 

Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point. 

“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.” 

The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console. 

Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you? 

‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’ 

Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”

“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire. 

“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”

“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?” 

“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”

“You knew their names too?” 

“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.” 

“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?” 

“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.  

“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze. 

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.

“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back. 

“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks. 

“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.” 

Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.” 

“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.” 

“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more. 

“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, “For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.” 

“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face. 

“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts. 

“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”

“Not Tool!” you laugh.  

“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.” 

“It sounds like you did.”

“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’” 

“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head. 

He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.” 

“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth. 

He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.” 

“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.” 

“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.” 

“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.” 

Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage. 

“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his. 

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green. 

“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.” 

“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly. 

The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now. 

‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’

“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?” 

“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.” 

“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.” 

“It’s cozy, right?” you ask. 

“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest,  “You gettin’ sleepy?” 

“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.” 

“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.” 

You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?” 

“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do. 

After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now? 

“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped. 

“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.” 

“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.

“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no. 

“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.” 

“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping. 

“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard. 

“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.” 

“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again. 

“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”

“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!” 

“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes. 

“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.” 

“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.” 

“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile. 

“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you. 

“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.” 

He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”

“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.” 

“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.” 

“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.” 

“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception. 

“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.” 

“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch. 

“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth.  it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you. 

By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand. 

these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy.   oh, so you miss me?  of course i do :) i miss you, too :) 

“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?” 

Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met. 

“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.” 

He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.” 

“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?” 

“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?” 

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.” 

“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted. 

“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks. 

“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back. 

what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.” 

After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?” 

Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.” 

Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.” 

“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them. 

“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.” 

“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds. 

“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.”  “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.” 

“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees. 

“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks. 

“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.”  “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?

He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?

Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.  

The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage. 

The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser. 

hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps 

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark. 

don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late?  grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?

“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.�� 

yeah, show me :) 

He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand. 

And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it. 

jfc you know what you’re doing  whaaaaat? what do you mean?  ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean.  do you not like it?  i like it a little too much  you wanna see it from the back? 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers. 

of course i do 

He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.

do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru.  you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn?  lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it. 

“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?” 

yeah? you’d take care of it?  only if you asked nicely :) 

“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand. 

i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please.  what a good boy. :) 

“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.” 

would you want me to use my hands or my mouth? 

“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first. 

i like the idea of keeping your mouth full  oh you wanna shut me up? is that it?  i don’t think it takes much. 

His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off. 

“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.

“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that? 

Bzz. Bzz.

oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄

“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat. 

you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it  you sound very confident  because i am  is it big? 

He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit. 

its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it.  i know i can take it.  so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here.  so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that.  so you are jerking it in your bedroom?  the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs

He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good. 

🙈 stop  yeah? i can stop.  don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come?  cause i do have my fingers between my thighs 

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls. 

does it feel good, sweetheart?  it would feel better if you were doing it for me.  can i call you?

“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…” 

absolutely. 

Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring. 

He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does. 

“Hey there,” he murmurs. 

“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan. 

“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again. 

“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh. 

“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm. 

“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.” 

“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax. 

“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.” 

He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead. 

“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?” 

“Yeah,” you whine to him. 

“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”  

“How?” you ask breathily. 

He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.” 

“I’m not needy,” you protest. 

“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.” 

You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver. 

“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.

“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?” 

“How long have you been doing it?” 

“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly. 

“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?” 

“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you. 

“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.” 

You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over. 

“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low. 

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea. 

“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?” 

“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you. 

“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm?  Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.” 

“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down. 

“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls. 

“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.” 

“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober. 

“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully. 

“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly. 

“Poor thing,” he offers. 

“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.” 

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.” 

“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters. 

“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.” 

“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.” 

“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”

You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours. 

Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned. 

He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere. 

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go. 

“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.” 

“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.” 

“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy. 

“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment.  “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. 

“I missed you,” he says confidently. 

“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group. 

“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug. 

“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over. 

“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose. 

“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.” 

You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind.��

“Guess who it is,” she laughs. 

“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand. 

“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.” 

Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts. 

“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.” 

“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face. 

“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.” 

“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.” 

“So you like her?” Eddie grins. 

“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.” 

“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort. 

“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.” 

“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs. 

The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all. 

“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses. 

Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat. 

‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt. 

“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too.  He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it. 

Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit – 

“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse. 

“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.” 

“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines. 

“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.” 

Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time. 

“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs. 

“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair. 

“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs. 

“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks. 

“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this. 

“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going. 

“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently. 

“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room,  “You even know how to play?” 

“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain. 

“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.” 

And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again. 

“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not.  Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and  that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade. 

While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.  

Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest. 

“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting. 

“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin. 

“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen. 

“Do I win a prize?” 

“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.” 

“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.”  He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again. 

“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place. 

“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.” 

The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other. 

He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.” 

The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips. 

You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.

“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands. 

“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths. 

“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.” 

You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums. 

“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp. 

“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.  

“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.” 

“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can  — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.” 

“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.

“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?” 

“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar. 

“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually – 

“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves. 

“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him. 

“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.” 

A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck. 

“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind. 

Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft. 

He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time. 

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips. 

“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.

“A little,” you giggle. 

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.” 

He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.” 

But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.

“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.

“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks. 

“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel. 

You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit. 

“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead. 

“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.” 

“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout. 

“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again. 

“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him. 

“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger. 

“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue. 

“That’s good for you?” he mumbles. 

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.” 

He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time? 

“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.” 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.” 

“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?” 

Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…” 

“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game. 

“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”

“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish. 

“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you. 

“Eddie…” 

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him. 

“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.” 

He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch. 

“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back. 

“M’gonna cum…oh shit  — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak. 

“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers. 

“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”  

Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead. 

“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.” 

His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate. 

“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.

“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.

“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?” 

“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.” 

“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?” 

“Much better.”  

Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks. 

“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen. 

“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face. 

“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate. 

“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –” 

Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is. 

“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?” 

You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn. 

“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping. 

“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.

“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.” 

He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?” 

You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”

“I really fucking like you, too.” 

When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed. 

“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.” 

“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.” 

Jingle. Click. Creak. 

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.” 

But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen. 

“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second. 

He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.” 

“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.”  Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.” 

“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him. 

“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit. 

“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?” 

“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much. 

Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you. 

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things s4 #eddie munson x y/n

[tan1shere]

Slumber Party

Ellie williams x fem reader!

A/n: Hello my lovelies, first post on here (more active on wattpad) but thought I'd occasionally post here when I'm bored. If you have any requests at all they're definitely open! Also this is kinda short but I don't plan on making the next part as short. Enjoyyyy ☆°•

My masterlist

Summary: like the song slumber party. Ellie thinks she can treat you better then your shitty girlfriend

Warnings: smut, (not in this chapter) read at your own risk (mdni) Dom but soft, protective, ellie! Reader is quite innocent, is very soft also. Cunnilingus (duh- also not in this chapter) your girlfriend in this is an asshole. Abuse, somewhat angst, crying. Lmk if there was anything else!

Pt 2 here! ~ pt 3 here!

Ellie hated Isabel, your girlfriend. She treated you horribly, and Ellie really hated when you'd bawl your eyes out over the phone to her whenever Isabel would storm out of your shared apartment. She hated the fact anyone would make you cry. She never liked seeing you unhappy. Isabel shared this hatred. She never liked you hanging around Ellie, even if you have known Ellie almost all your life. She would scold you after everytime you and her would hang out. You'd come back to the apartment smiling. "What're you smiling about?" You just smile more happy to tell. "Ellie she makes the funniest jo-" "I don't like you being round her Y/n." You would always stare blankly at her, struggling to find the words, leaving your mouth open while you ponder.

Today was not off to a great start. Ellie had just been over, you two were having such a great time. "I should probably get going squirt." She would flash her smile at you, ruffling your hair slightly, as she stood to go to the door. Ellie was a bit older then you, and come to think of it so was Isabel. Let's just say you had a thing for older ladies. (Only by like 6 years) You also stand up, seeing her out and saying goodbye. But as you open the door you're met woth those dark brown eyes. Isabel had just arrived back from work. She glares at the auburn haired girl, making her way inside. "Well hi to you too." Ellie scoffs then looks at you. "Text you when im home." You give her a small nod and a smile before she leaves to her car. You turn around to be faced with a stern Isabel. "You know how I feel about her being in our home. Especially when I'm not here." You never really talk back to Isabel you always apologize and go into the kitchen to make food. She was truly a bitch and she started showing her true colors the moment you two moved in together. You never understood what you would do so wrong. You made every dinner. Every lil food she'd want. The laundry. Just to please her. And although it'd work, it'd never last. "I'm sorry Iz.. She just really wanted to show me this art she was working on and in person. Nothing more I swear." She let's out a scoff. "Why should I believe you it's almost every day you spend with her. It's sickening and pathetic." You stare at her as she says that. She would always make you feel stupid. When in fact you were quite smart you knew what most things meant. Maybe not so much bedroom stuff. But you were book smart nonetheless. Speaking of bedroom. You were basically a virgin. You've kissed Isabel many times done a lil something here and there but it was definitely not much. So you were certainly not confident on that subject. Although Ellie would tell you all sorts of stories about the girls she's been with. It fascinated you to learn all these new terms and what everything was. "I promise to talk to you before hand next time-" She instantly cuts you off. "Why are you still standing here. Cook, I've been working all day." She spits going to your guys shared bedroom. You sigh doing so. And that was your life.

It was maybe a couple weeks after, you had felt like you were coming down with something so you decided that bed rest was the best thing. It was now 3 in the afternoon. You were sleeping in your bed when the door busted open. "What the fuck are you still doing in bed it's almost 4!" Isabel was home and not happy. You sit up a bit. "Yes I know I'm sorry bu-" She drops her bags. "This place is a mess, there's dishes out. Foods not even ready. Laundry is still in the hamper. What fucking else." You look at her softening your look. "Iz, I'm sorry- I woke up feeling horrid so I decided to stay in bed." She shakes her head. "Even when I have the worst headache known to man I still get my ass up and work. You know all that sweet money, I work for that. And you work here that is your job." This was one of the moments were you'd feel bad for yourself. Weak. Weaker right now considering you're sick. You look down at the sheets. "Are you even listening to me? You spoiled brat." She doesn't do what she does next often but when she does you know you're in the shit. She hits you. Hard. "Wonder why I have a headache all the time. It's you and your whiney voice. Look at how pathetic you are." She glares down at your drowsy figure. You feel tears finally sting as you had held them in. Refusing to let yourself be so weak, but you give in. Feeling overwhelmed with emotions right now. "What the fuck are you gunna be like when I go away in a few weeks huh? You better keep this place spotless you know about the cameras. I'll be watching you." Yes. The oh so lovely cameras. They're only in the kitchen, living room and laundry. The only places you slave away at. "I will iz I promise." She hums. "I'll believe it when i see it. I needa go out and grab some stuff. Make sure dinners ready when I get back." She says before getting her keys and leaving. You then sob. Letting it all out as you shakily grab your phone going to the only person who knows how to comfort you. Ellie.

When she arrives not long after, giving a honk. You go outside and get in the passenger seat. "Off anywhere?" You shake your head. "No that's alright. I don't want to get yelled at.." Ellie sighs. "Bub, you can't keep letting her treat you like this-" "if I left I'd have nowhere to go Els.." She keeps looking at you. "Yes you do. Mine." You let out a small breath looking down at your hands. "Everythings so messy." She nods, even if you can't see. "I know angel but my offer still and will forever stand. I think you should take it." You just wipe the small tears forming at your eyes. "How was your day?" She hates how you change the subject. She always has. She wants to talk about it with you more. Comfort you more. "Pretty easy going. Do you want a hug love?" You shake your head. "Its best if you don't come near me right now-" "I promise it's not gunna affect me if you cry. You know that." You nod. "I know, but I'm sick- thats why she yelled at me.." She furrows her brows. "She got mad at you because you weren't feeling well? What a fucking bitch." You sigh, in the midst of a slight cough. "Angel you should go back in and rest. Let me help-" You immediately shake your head. "She'd know you were there. I- I couldn't risk that." You always felt awful. Not because you got yelled at but because she would want to pick a fight with Ellie too. Ellie was older then Iz too, more mature. Never bought into her crap. "I'll make sure she doesn't yell at you, you really need rest you work your ass off-" You stop her talking. "I don't want her to try anything with you Els." She shakes her head. "She won't. I promise just let me make you some soup and tuck you in. Please, just that." You contemplate whether or not you should but you nod regardless.

She was making the soup trying to be as speedy in hopes she wouldn't bump into Isabel. "Here you go. Say you made it for yourself. I also cleaned a lil." She sends you a wink. And when she says a lil she means the whole lot. "Els, you seriously didn't have to." She smiles gently. "No but I wanted to. I also made something else. Knowing grump would be hungry when she gets back." You look at her so thankful. "You have no idea how much I appreciate you." She gives you a kiss on the head. "Call if you need anything else. I love you." She says while looking in your eyes. "I love you too Els." You respond sweetly. Oh how stupid you were to realize how INlove she was with you. But she plans to show you sooner or later. As she's the one you should truly, be with.

#elliewilliams #ellie williams the last of us smut #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams series

[zeroeightzeroone]

homesick - han jisung

love collection

genre: comfort, angst? soft

pairings: fem!reader (infp) x idol!han jisung (istp)

warnings: none?

wc ~3.7k | moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

you miss your boyfriend–you miss him a lot.

how could you not?

all you have wanted to do for the past couple of weeks is throw your arms around jisung and hold him close. you want to keep your boyfriend so tightly against your chest that you're encapsulated by the warmth radiating off his body, the warmth that never fails to comfort you, resting your head against his chest to listen to how his heart beats in tandem with your own. you miss the physical closeness with jisung.

stray kids has been on tour since late april this year, and the last leg of the tour is expected to end early april next year. while that's quite a long time for the boys to be away, they'd be back in asia in late july and on a break until the tour kicks back up in early september. it's currently the beginning of july.

thankfully, you weren't taking any summer courses. through the grace of whatever higher power there is up there, you managed to convince your boss to let you work remotely so you could join jisung and the boys for two weeks during the japanese leg of their tour back at the beginning of june.

you loved watching jisung perform. seeing him firsthand from the crowd, in his element when he's on stage, performing his art and perfecting his craft, makes your heart lurch; you fall for the man all over again, watching him up there. seeing it firsthand is completely different from watching videos of him–you can feel the energy radiating off him when he's up there.

at the end of those two weeks, you and the boys ended up in the same place: the airport. you were boarding a plane back to seoul, and they were boarding a plane to their first tour stop in america. due to the influx of reporters and fans waiting at narita international airport, your goodbyes to the boys and their staff had to be in the hotel, inside your rooms, hours before checkout time.

knock, knock, knock.

"come in!" you call whoever is on the other side of the door; if it's any of the boys, then they will be accompanied by jisung, who has the extra room key for your room.

you grunt in a squatting position as you move your luggage from laying on the ground, on its back, to standing upright on its wheels. you hear the keycard machine beep from the other side of the door in confirmation as you're hunched over, wheeling your luggage up against the wall before standing up straight and rubbing your palms against your jeans. you watch as the front door opens to reveal the eight boys, jisung in front, holding the keycard to your hotel room. behind them, the managers and some guards come into the room with them, but the bodyguards stay outside.

"y/n!" felix whines with a pout as he pushes forward, running to you and enveloping you in his arms, "fly safe, okay?"

you pat the freckled boy's back appreciatively as you nod.

"make sure you text ji when you land, okay?"

"i will, but you guys will still be in the air when he gets that message."

felix pulls away, his hands on your shoulders as he looks at you, "still, it's the thought that counts." you smile and giggle at felix, who moves aside for the next couple of members to say their goodbyes to you.

your exchanges with jeongin, minho and changbin are on the shorter side; brief hugs with jeongin and changbin, who thank you for coming to support them in concert, meanwhile minho gives you a half hug and pats your head as he bids you farewell, thanking you for taking two weeks out of the many months jisung will spend talking about how much he'll miss you.

meanwhile, hyunjin, chan and seungmin's hugs last a little longer when you're swayed around a little bit and told to be safe, get a lot of rest on the plane and not miss them too much. chan lets you know that if there is any other time you're going to be free when they're on tour, let them know, and they'll arrange everything for you–from the plane tickets to where you're staying–anything at all.

seungmin, the member you're closest to after your boyfriend, whispers in your ear quietly to ensure it's kept between the two of you: "i know you're going to ask me to take care of jisung for you, so don't worry about that. don't worry about hannie; we all got him."

the reassurance brings a smile to your face, and your grip on seungmin gets tighter in appreciation. the boy sways your bodies back and forth, patting your back when you separate. when he pulls away, he steps aside to reveal your boyfriend standing there with a pout, his big, brown eyes glossy as tears build up at his waterline. you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing.

you were already feeling on the verge of tears when felix came rushing in and pulled you into a hug. chan's words about arranging anything and everything if you're free, then seungmin assuring you that they'll look out for your boyfriend while on tour and now, here's your boyfriend, your hannie, your jisung, looking at you with teary eyes.

you open your arms and jisung runs into them, prompting you to take a step back at the sudden impact, but jisung's tight grip around your waist protects you from any chance of falling backward. jisung buries his face in the crook of your neck while your arms are wrapped around his neck, your chin resting on his shoulder as your eyes are squeezed shut. your grip on each other is tight, knowing that once either of you lets go, the next time you'll be in each other's arms is in two months.

jisung lets a choked whimper slip out that he tries to hide with a cough. you smack his back gently, "ya!"

you clear your throat, trying your best to stay composed and stern as you utter the next words.

"if you cry, i'm going to cry too!" your voice cracks and trembles as you speak.

"i'm not crying," he denies. though his voice is muffled from his head buried in the crook of your neck, you can clearly hear that it's softer than usual, shaky, and uneasy.

you let out a pained laugh, "liar." the tears flow down your cheeks as you hold him even tighter.

"i'm not lying!" jisung continues to deny. he lifts his head up from your neck, and you stand there, still in each other's arms, looking at each other, "see."

what you see is how jisung's cheeks are flushed, wet with tears that probably fell and landed on the fabric of the hoodie you're wearing, his lashes clumped together with tears as he tries to keep his lips pursed together when they're trembling and threatening to go back to that pout. on the other hand, your tears are freely falling as you stare up at your boyfriend through your fluttering lids, mouth opening and closing as you breathe heavily through your pouted lips, cheeks also flushed and damp. you smack his chest.

"what?" he whines.

you open your mouth to laugh at him, but instead, a sob comes out. you fall back into his arms and bury your face into his chest as you cry.

"look who's crying now," jisung retorts as his arms move around your body again, holding you close. one hand rests on the small of your back while the other caresses your hair.

"yeah, the both of you," minho teases and jisung glares at the boy, but the older one just smiles back.

the rest of the boys watch the exchange between you and jisung with a slight ache in their chests as they remember how hard it was to say goodbye to their friends and family before leaving. chan looks around and he gathers everyone to leave, wanting to give you and jisung a minute alone to say your goodbyes before the driver takes you to the airport.

pulling away, jisung moves his hands to your face and brushes your hair back, some strands sticking to your skin because of tears as you hiccup. even when your hair is out of your face, he continues to stroke your hair back while the other hand is on your cheek, gently caressing the skin with the pad of his thumb. the two of you stare up at each other, sniffling.

"i love you," jisung whispers, his voice hoarse from crying.

you nod, sniffling and hiccuping in return, "i love you too."

jisung smiles down at you, "hey, i'll be back before you know it."

your eyelids flutter as you blink quickly, and your hands play with the back of the sweatshirt jisung is wearing.

"i'll text you everyday," he reminds, "i'll call you as much as i can, and as much our schedules and the time zones allow for."

you sigh shakily, "i'm gonna miss you so much."

"i'm going to miss you so much too, my love," jisung brushes your hair back again, "god, i wish i could just take you with me. two months away from you? that's too long."

you snicker, nodding in agreement, "i do too. but hey, i'll get to see so many videos of you taken by stay, doing your thing on stage."

your boyfriend smiles, gazing down at you lovingly.

"i'm so proud of you. look at you," you sigh, lips curled up in a smile, "my boyfriend is going on a world tour."

"do you know what that means?" you tilt your head in confusion, "souvenirs from every stop that remind me of you!"

since he left, both of you have been sending texts daily and video calls whenever your schedules permit it and when the time zones line up enough so it isn't too early or too late for either of you.

sometimes your calls only prompt you to miss jisung even more, wishing he was next to you and that his voice wasn't just coming through a device while he's on the other side of the world, but the distance also means you continue to long for the day jisung comes home. you know his parents long for that day as well, his mother sending you texts every couple of days asking when you're free so you can go out together. as jisung likes to put it–spending time with her future daughter-in-law.

however, as the number of days away from jisung increases, the number of days before jisung returns also decreases. with that in mind, you try to stay positive and look forward to the day he comes home.

now that the boys are in america, they've been quite busy rehearsing, checking and then rechecking their formations and any technical details that could go wrong during the concerts, the process repeating at each venue as they sync up their equipment with the new venues. their team organizing and making sure everything is okay with the venue and other organizers. as a result, jisung has been too busy to call late at night as he passes out the moment he's in his hotel room from the venue, then waking up a couple hours later to hop on a flight to the next destination.

he sends you texts here and there throughout his day, sending random photos of himself and the members during rehearsals or before and after the show. on jisung's end, he sent a text over when he landed early in the morning, saying he could probably hop on a call quickly when he gets to the hotel, seeing as they're going to be in inglewood for a little over a week for two shows instead of one. you were about to leave work when the message came through. going home for the evening when the message reminded you of your phone call with jisung's mother.

"hello, eomeonim (mother-in-law)," you greet when the line connects.

"y/n, myeoneuri (daughter-in-law)," she speaks into the phone, her tone sweet as usual. she doesn't say anything for a moment before speaking, "is this a bad time? you don't sound like you're at home?"

"ah, sorry eomeonim," you apologize, "i just got off the bus, but i'm on the way home now. but don't worry, i can talk if you need me."

"ah okay, i won't keep you too long then, myeoneuri," she assures before continuing, "have you spoken to jisung on the phone recently?"

you hum as you think, "I think it's been a couple of days since our last phone call; why? is he okay?"

you hear jisung's mother sigh on the other end of the line, "i'm a little worried, if i'm honest," you hum in acknowledgment and she continues, "he sounded quite down on our phone call yesterday and the day before. he told me not to worry when i asked… i know this might be a lot, but would you mind talking to him? if it's you, he'll open up more–at least, he'll have talked about what's on his mind."

"yeah, yeah, of course," you agree, "i'll see if we can call tonight, and i'll check up on him, see how he's doing, eomeonim. don't worry too much, i'm sure ji is okay!"

she chuckles on the other end, "ah, you sound just like him, y/n. don't tell him i sent you!"

you laugh in response to her rushed addition at the end of her statement: "i won't say anything," she sighs in relief, "was there anything else you were curious about?"

she hums, "nothing else, thank you so much, myeoneuri. i'll see you on the weekend, okay? come over whenever you want! the door is always open for you!"

your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you smile, "thank you, i'll see you in a couple of days. bye eomeonim!"

"goodbye, myeoneuri! get home safely. i love you," she bids her farewells, which you exchange right back with her before she hangs up the call.

thinking back to that conversation, you wonder what worried jisung's mother about him; was it how he spoke? his tone? the words he used? was he quite active in the conversation, or did he seem more passive? you wonder what exactly she meant by jisung sounding quite down, but you guess you'll figure it out when he calls you in the morning.

it's around eight in the morning when your phone rings from the bedside table. yunjin should already be awake and ready for work, so the ringer volume doesn't wake anyone up except you. you roll around, feeling around the bedside table for the device. you accept his call quickly and place the phone to your ear.

a deep yawn leaves your lips before you say, "ji baby?"

you hear him hum in acknowledgment on the other end before he replies, "yeah, baby, it's me." a sleepy smile forms on your lips at the sound of his voice. " did I wake you?"

you groan softly as you flick the lamp on, the sudden brightness causing you to squint, "yes but i don't mind. i just wanna hear your voice. are you back at the hotel now?"

"yeah, we got back a while ago. i just wanted to be ready for bed before calling; this way i can fall asleep while you're on the line," jisung explains, and you feel your cheeks heat up at his sentiments.

he continues to talk about what they did today. you're gradually more awake and more attentive as the minutes pass, so eventually, you realize what jisung's mother was referring to when it sounded like he's been down. jisung is speaking monotone, his voice softer, and when he speaks, it sounds like his mind is elsewhere.

when he's finished, you decide to segway into that conversation, "how are you feeling?"

he pauses for a moment, taken aback before he shrugs, "i'm tired, it's been a long day of rehearsal. what about you? how are you feeling?"

"i'm doing good, i'm hearing your voice, so i'm doing great," you answer quickly before he tries to shift the conversation to you, "are you physically tired or?"

jisung is lying in bed as he speaks to you, looking up at the ceiling and thinking of his replies, "yeah. dancing and all."

"emotionally?"

"emotionally?" he repeats to which you confirm, "i mean… i'm okay–better now since i'm hearing your voice after a couple of days… it's been a busy last couple of days."

you nod, running a hand through your tangled hair as you listen to jisung on the other end. his tone is still distracted as his words graze over how he's feeling, avoiding delving deeper into it. realizing that maybe he isn't ready to delve deeper into his emotions, you allow him to shift the conversation to your life and what you've been up to while he's been on tour–asking you how work has been and if anything new has occurred. you answer jisung honestly; there is nothing new at work as it's the same job you've had since getting into university; the only new events would be the lunch you have on the weekend with jisung's mother, aunt and grandmother.

the latter part of your updates brings a smile to jisung's lips, his heart warming at the thought of the most important women in his life spending quality time together. but at the same time, hearing your updates about your life back at home, no matter how small you think they are or if they're the same things that always happen, has jisung's chest aching in a completely different way.

"ji?" you call, not hearing anything coming from his end, "did you fall asleep?" you pause to listen, to survey whether or not you hear soft snores or heavy breathing that indicate that he is indeed asleep.

instead, jisung responds after a couple of moments, "i'm still here. i'm awake."

"are you okay?" you wonder, "if you're tired then i can go–"

"no, don't go," he quickly interrupts, "sorry."

"don't apologize, i just wanna make sure you're okay," you reassure, and you hear him hum in acknowledgment.

"i miss you," he declares softly, his voice solemn as he speaks.

"i miss you too, ji," you sigh, instinctively clutching the pillow closer to your chest.

the boy on the other end ponders for a moment before continuing, "i miss you a lot. i don't really know how to explain it," jisung blinks up at the ceiling, "i miss you all the time, but when we get back to the hotel or when i'm not performing, i miss you even more."

jisung's eyebrows knit in frustration as he continues to explain himself.

"i love being on stage, i love performing," he states, "i can't explain how i feel when i'm performing either, but… there's a feeling of contentment or fullness? i don't know… i just know i love to be up there. but…"

"but?" you encourage him to continue as his words trail off.

"but when i get back to the hotel, or when it's all over, i feel tired: the adrenaline doesn't last as long as it usually does. but even though i'm tired, it's hard to fall asleep."

you aren't sure where to place jisung's words, unsure if you've ever felt the way he's been feeling lately, uncertain if you can relate, but at the least, you want to understand and reassure him that you're there.

"there's a feeling of emptiness that kinda just sits there when i'm not on stage," his voice is softer when he says the word 'emptiness' like it's a fragile word, one he's unsure of, "i wasn't sure what it was before but listening to you talk started to help me realize what caused the emptiness."

"something i said helped you realize?" you repeat for clarification.

"yeah, listening to you talk about home, work, the local cafes, the conversations you have with my mom–just everything about your life at home," jisung lists, "i'm feeling homesick."

your lips part in awe when the last word leaves his mouth, the singular word allowing you to reconceptualize what he said previously and gain a greater understanding.

"i tried my best to distract myself and rehearse more to combat those feelings of emptiness but nothing seemed to work; it just stuck there. listening to you helped combat some of my homesickness but…"

"but it's still there," you finish his sentence, and he agrees with a sigh.

"i love being onstage, i feel so alive when i'm up there," now, when jisung speaks, his tone is clearer, and his thoughts are clearer, the way he's speaking signalling that instead of being lost in his own thoughts he's got both feet on the ground and he's working through them, "but i miss home so much. god… i miss you so damn much."

you smile sadly when you hear him sniffle.

"i miss my bed at the dorms, the air fryer at the dorms that we don't even use. i miss the smell of your laundry detergent and shampoo, i miss being in your arms, and you playing with my hair. i miss being at home."

jisung cries softly as he speaks, sniffling and continuing to list off the things that he misses at home. it brings tears to your eyes; using your comforter to dab the tears off your face.

"hey…" you call into the phone, "would it help if i sent little voice messages throughout the day so you could hear my voice? i can send pictures of things you love here too? just a couple more weeks, and you'll be here, and i'll hold you so tightly you get sick of me."

"i'll never be sick of being in your arms," he remarks, "and if it isn't too much, i would love that, all of it." jisung smiles at your suggestions, appreciative of you and your ideas to help him combat his homesickness until he's back in seoul.

"i'll try my best."

"baby?" he coos, prompting a soft response from you, "do you think we can video call? i wanna see your face before i sleep. can you stay until i fall asleep?"

your cheeks heat up from your boyfriend's suggestion, and your heart feels giddy at seeing his face for a couple of minutes before he falls asleep. " of course, baby."

#hjs love collection #stray kids one shots #stray kids imagines #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz han fluff #skz han jisung fluff #skz han angst #skz jisung oneshot #skz jisung oneshots #skz jisung imagines #skz jisung imagine #skz jisung fluff #stray kids jisung one shots #stray kids jisung one shot #stray kids jisung imagines #stray kids jisung imagine #stray kids han imagine #stray kids hurt/comfort

[mitsies]

thinking about high-school!gojo today.....

he’s top of his classes, a-list student, and everyone knows him. people across campus gossip about his latest romances and grades and all— he’s an open book. and a new york time’s best seller, apparently.

gojo is specifically notorious for his position as top student at your prestigious school. only the best from the best lineage, it seems. in graded discussions, he’s viciously tearing down others’ points. he disagrees with the teacher. makes jokes that make the whole class laugh. has been responsible for at least 3 faculty members’ quitting. all this, and he’s still failing art. sculpture class, to be exact.

it’s an elective both he and you have been forced into; you’re a lot happier about it than him, it seems. because he always complains. loudly. and he sucks at art, quite frankly.

it's plain to see that the boy has never even drawn a portrait in his life. he's got two right hands and he's left-handed, it looks like, that's how bad he is. and even worse is the fact that he's got no friends in this class; everyone's a stranger. which is probably why he resorts to bothering you.

you like to think you're a strong person, of mind and of being. but your resolve to being kind crumbles as soon as gojo opens his big fat mouth.

you see why people like him. he can be funny. he's good at lots of things (arts not included) and sometimes, only sometimes, does he have something valuable to say. but mostly, you find gojo satoru to be a nuisance.

working on your projects is made incredibly difficult when 6 feet of pure frustration is bitching right next to you. "this clay," he'd complain, "it's gotta be broken. it's not working."

you try to ignore him, you really do. him and his inane excuses, and empty commentary. and for the most part, he disregards you right back. he looks through you, sometimes. sometimes. that is, until the teacher pulls him aside a few weeks before the end of the school year and he comes back more stone-faced and scared than you've ever seen him. he's quiet for longer than you've known possible and you're surprised to find that you kind of miss hearing his voice.

he doesn't really say much, and class lets out, and you go on with your life like normal. but there's an itch in the back of your mind, and it sounds like his name over and over and you can't quite get it out of your head. not until the next day, when you see him again- 2nd period sculpture class, 9 o'clock in the morning.

and this time, he looks right at you.

"you're really good at this whole sculpture thing." he's making a statement, not asking a question. you blink and realise that this is the very first time he's spoken to you, directly. he was complimenting you in a way- on what? does this mean he's seen you? all this time you presumed he stared straight through, blue eyes burning holes through your skull. maybe, just maybe, he's been looking at you the whole time. you're not sure how to reply so you just nod, "i guess."

"i," he says the next words like he's choking on glass and you see his adam's apple bob (his skin is so pale; translucent. you think it'd be cold to the touch,) "need help."

you almost feel bad. he looks like a cat that just got soaked in water. pitiful. playing dumb, though you know exactly what he means, you tilt your head innocently. "help with what?"

he grimaces. you bite the inside of your cheek to stop a smile from spreading like wildfire.

"this class."

"oh? what about it?"

he dramatically slumps against the desk, knocking over the boy in front of him's water bottle. he doesn't bother picking it up. "sculpting. art. everything."

"i thought you were good at everything, though."

that might've been too far, because he looks at you again. he really, really looks. and you think he sees you. because he smiles, "my reputation precedes me. i'm so famous, aren't i?"

"i guess you are," you concede, allowing an edge of amusement to lighten your tone. he is still looking at you. he does not break eye contact. it makes your stomach churn with something sickeningly alive, something abhorrently beautiful.

"then it should be your honour to help me out or something, yeah?"

it should be. it will be. you could let it be.

"i'm pretty busy. sorry."

he blinks at you. you turn away. why did you say no? you didn't want to. but then again, you'd prefer to be away from him and his life- lavish, elegant, mansions and stars and cameras and glamour- you have homework to do.

you think that, after this, gojo satoru will leave you be.

he does not.

in fact, you think it gets worse.

if he wasn't talking to you much at all before, it's all he does now. he sits in your seat before class starts, getting there before you, waiting for you. chats your ears off, too, when you try to get work done. and he always ends up bringing up that proposal again- to help tutor him in sculpture, or give him pointers, or whatever, you try to tune him out.

you wonder why he only asks you. there's plenty of much more talented, much more friendly students in your class. ones that'd say yes. but he only asks you. you think he knew it was only a matter of time before you gave in. that was what he was banking on, probably. all it took was two weeks worth of asking, talking non-stop, and basically borderline begging. and you folded.

..which, is how you find yourself in the art room, after-hours, sitting next to gojo satoru and a pottery wheel as he helplessly squishes the miserable and miserly beginnings of yet another deformed clay pot.

"you can do it," you encourage rather dryly. he shoots you a look. "great acting."

"sorry. i'm trying my best here."

his hands are covered in wet clay, so when he wipes his brow he uses his forearm. the crewneck he wears is pulled up and pale, pale skin glows a wintery shade. you tear your eyes away. "and i am too! but it isn't working!"

you frown. he really is bad at this- ignoring all your direct pointers and advice. you've told him what he needs to fix; be gentle, go slowly, be patient, patient, patient. all that has gone in one ear and out the other.

you really dread what you're about to do. but you want to help him save his grade in this class, because gojo satoru was not gojo satoru without his 4.0 gpa. so, bracing yourself, feeling a tight, tight knot in your stomach, you ghost your hands over his on the wheel and hold on, shadowing them. a guide.

his skin is cold, you were right. big hands, bigger than yours, they feel good and frigid beneath your touch; like they were made for you, sculpted to your touch. you feel his breathing stall before he starts rambling again.

his words move fast, but not faster than his heartbeat, which you feel in his wrist. you'd be dizzy with the proximity if you weren't so focused on making something. it's almost magic, how 2 pairs of hands come together to make something- a small pot, spinning on the wheel.

it's a little lopsided and wonky looking but it's far, far better than anything gojo's accomplished. he goes quiet. "wow," he says, so so hushed you almost don't catch it. you know he's not talking about the pot.

"i told you that you could do it."

his hands break away from the wheel, leaving the clay formation and pulling your hands away, too. they're in his, still, and covered in a think muddy-coloured sludge of slip. but he holds them.

"you have something on your face," you exhale after a beat of silence. because he does; a dash of clay, marking the expanse of skin on his cheek. just below his lip. he smiles and a dimple creases his pretty, pretty face.

"yeah? why don't you get it for me?"

you blink. "my hands are filthy. i'd make it worse."

"do you think i care?"

you're surprised your hands are steady, a sculptor's hands, as you wipe away the drying residue of slip. it crumbles and flakes off his cheek, but your thumb brushes his lip and you feel him freeze before grinning wider and pulling away. you miss his cold. you feel a bit too hot all over, now.

"it's all over your face now," you inform him, snapping your gaze away to hide your embarrassment. he doesn't look away. he looks at you, he looks at you, he looks at you. like he likes you, a little bit.

"we can deal with that after the lesson, yeah?"

you expect him to sound different than he does, when he says this. you expect his voice to be full of ego and confidence, like usual. boisterous, louder than life. but he's quieter. almost like he's shy. you turn back, and you see the way he watches you. like you're precious, like you're fleeting and rare and the most beautiful, beautiful piece of art he's ever seen.

"okay," you say, "okay. sure."

his grin is worth a million dollars and his boyish confidence returns after the lapse of shyness; "awesome!"

promptly after, he moves to go back to the clay pot. in his excitement, he squishes it into a lump again.

"awesome," you sign, resigned. but you can't find it in yourself to be mad. you like him too much for that.

#me chugging 2 energy drinks to get through my homework but ending up writing this instead #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #mitzi's world! #gojo satoru #reader insert

[batneko]

okay, time to actually type up my thoughts on this AU! With some new art to make it worth it.

for context, here's part one and part two.

so the basics are, Bowser is continually trying to conquer the city and being fought off by the bros, who do have superpowers (I thought about drawing lightning around Luigi's fist but I don't know how to make that look good in lineart) and costumes and "hero names," but don't hide their faces so they don't exactly have secret identities. It's more like being an actor with a stage name. Since they're fairly average-looking dudes they don't get recognized all the time, especially when they're apart, but Mario definitely does more often than Luigi.

But even when they're not recognized by the starbucks barista, people expect a lot of them. Not just stopping Bowser, but stopping everyday problems, rescuing cats from trees or standing in for a broken TV antenna. Eventually the pressure gets to Mario and he decides to fake his death and make a run for it. He's not really thinking clearly at the time and he regrets it almost immediately, but he can't bring himself to go back and face everyone's disappointment. He needs to figure himself out first.

He does at least contact Luigi as soon as he's out of the city to reassure him he's not dead. He doesn't tell him where he's going though, and Luigi can't contact him back, he has to wait for Mario to call, so Luigi does genuinely miss him and can fake grief when he needs to without too much prompting.

Bowser, meanwhile, was genuinely not expecting to "kill" his greatest rival. He never really wanted Mario dead, he just wanted the city! But he's not going to let this opportunity pass him by- Or so he thinks, until he's beaten into a pulp by the other hero that he usually forgot about.

Okay, fine, Bowser can still work with this. Heal up, regroup, give it another try- Aaaand this time he's ganged up on by three heroes he's never even seen before. What the heck is happening?

Turns out that without Mario's charismatic leader act keeping everyone reassured (and complacent), a bunch of people are stepping into the gap. Luigi, Peach, Daisy, probably more than one Toad or Yoshi... Bowser can't plan for this! They all have different powers, different strategies, different types of banter. He's overwhelmed.

So Bowser gets the idea that he needs just one hero to fight. Maybe with a sidekick, but still. That way he can time his cool speeches and minimize the amount he gets punched in the face. He already killed one of them, maybe if he works his way through the others one at a time he'll finally win. Eventually. Someday.

He gets the super crown disguise watch (I still haven't decided if there's a real guy whose appearance and name he is copying) and finds his first hero. Mario's sidekick. Should be the easiest one to fight, right? Bowser just needs to convince him that it's better for everyone if the city only has one hero at a time. It's about continuity. It'll reassure them. Give them a symbol.

Unfortunately for Bowser (and fortunately for us) Luigi is way too nice a guy to chase off some random bear person just for recognizing him and having Opinions about all this hero stuff. Luigi talks to him, addresses his concerns, answers his questions, and the guy is actually surprisingly willing to listen. Most people who try to tell him how to do his job don't care about facts and logic!

Next thing Bowser knows, he's been invited for coffee next week. That's... fine, right? This is progress! It's not a date, it's just getting close to his target! And it's definitely not a problem that Luigi is really cute and sweet and patient and has big blue eyes and a nice smile and the warmth of his handshake lingered for the rest of the afternoon...

Everything is totally fine! 👍

#sorry about the gray but that was the only way tumblr would accept that image #bowuigi #luigi #bowser #super mario bros #luwser #bowigi #green shell #my art #megamind au #superhero au

[saiidahyunie]

you in my heart 

chou tzuyu x f!reader 

synopsis: if i can keep myself close to cherish you, then my heart will forever be in your hands. 

warnings: fluff ; angst ? ; friends to lovers ; clc elkie and sana appear!

a/n: this fic is my creative writing lifeline soooooo :P

chou tzuyu doesn’t like idiots. 

in the many years of her glorious friendship with you, tzuyu has watched, in all scopes, just how damn impatient you were about your decisions. she’s seen it all - whether it’s simply put in which you threw caution to the wind and helped tzuyu ditch school just for a quick detour to the beach as a way to cheer her up after the argument she had with her parents. 

(might to add, that happened in the one week of getting to know each other.) 

or, whether it would be the way tzuyu saw you drawing, once and decided that the route of art was the destination. better yet, the slight hitch of breath of your decision - last second- of moving in with tzuyu, on the day her lease was up for renewal. 

these many things between the fine lines of dumb and stupid could not have prepared tzuyu for this: 

you being settled on the floor with a dark red shirt that had a white minimal graphic with the name of the brand being something from your dad’s work, hair set off neatly off to the side with a hint of fringe peaking at the top, an apple juice box in your hands washing down the ritz crackers you swiped from the box, without knowing how it fans the flames in every one of tzuyu’s nerves. 

you look at tzuyu, holding your gaze, jaw moving with two chewed crackers in your mouth, before averting your eyes to the crushed juice box next to you. 

“tzuyu,” you say, fingers fast on the wrapper fishing out another cracker. “you’re not gonna eat?” 

tzuyu says nothing, only shaking her head before settling back against the leg of the sofa, crossing her arms against her chest. 

“tzuyu,” you whine, grabbing her wrist that had pinches of salt all over your fingertips, “why are you not saying anything?” 

as if tzuyu can ever ignore the constant pull that she feels towards you. 

“what’s going on?” tzuyu asks you now, knowing that nothing positive ever comes out of your mouth when she’s soaking in this tone that you’re presenting, voice breaking high and towards the end, as though you wouldn’t be able to breath right if tzuyu does not talk to you, or look at you. 

“you’re a girl right?” 

tzuyu blinks once, doe eyes out in the open space while she’s unable to guess the trajectory that this conversation might go. 

“yes, and?” 

you smile, bright and warm, tzuyu nudges closer until her knee touches your thigh. 

“cool! me too!” you say. “well, i don’t know, actually. but, the point is that i’ve never dated a girl before. have you?” 

tzuyu’s sexuality has been acknowledged, conveyed, and accepted between the both of you without any real sense of words. you had always been perceptive, and when tzuyu’s eyes wandered on only at he women in the movies that she used to watch together with you during high school, you knew that your best friend was a lesbian, and squeezed her hand firmly to let her know that. 

it was never really discussed after that, until now. 

your sexuality, in tandem, has been acknowledged, conveyed, and accepted between the both of you devidating your realization through a sudden urge to declare the moment out loud on a random day. you tumbled your way onto tzuyu a week ago, holding her hands tight, screaming about how you barely realized that you were bisexual and how “everything makes so much sense to me!” 

ever since that day, tzuyu had to witness the only person she has loved even before she knew how to love someone else flirting with nearly everyone. she could only be supportive of her best friend’s journey up til this point. 

“i haven’t,” tzuyu replies. 

your face lights up, eyebrows arched and eyes wide open. “well, have you kissed another girl before?” 

tzuyu suddenly feels like she is neck deep in water that she’s not used to swimming in, struggling to keep herself afloat in her mind. “i…have.” 

your face beams more brighter than before it diminishes into the stark emptiness of the night after the flames on a bonfire slowly wither away. “hey,” you say. “you didn’t tell me about that, tzu! we’re besties, aren’t you supposed to tell me everything?” 

tzuyu scoots herself over to put a hand on your shoulder. “it was a long time ago,” she says. the world of sapphism was something beautiful to be apart of. seeing the pride parties to be an enlightenment of sorts while also pulling the heart in a more wrenching way. she wanted to belong there with the vast crowd of people but was also aware that she doesn’t want to put herself into that space, if it meant leaving your side. 

“it doesn’t really matter now.” 

“hey.” you say, scooting closer to match her. tzuyu’s hand lingers on your shoulder before letting go. “of course, it does. was it any good?” 

tzuyu doesn’t recall much from those separate experiences, let alone want to remember any from long ago. “yes, i think so. but it was like years since then, so it doesn’t matter.” 

“what makes you say that? why did you stop yourself? are you going to be kissing girls when we go to that pride party next week?” 

“i told you, y/n. it doesn’t matter. why are you even asking about this?” 

you have another smile spread across, hands moving up and down tzuyu’s arm, causing a ripple effect of goosebumps rising on the crook of her neck. “i have something to ask you.” 

when you pull your hands away, picking a cracker from the new stack you just opened, holding against tzuyu’s lips. 

when tzuyu makes no move to open her mouth, your encourage her by nodding despite becoming more and more doting and impatient (which was on brand for your antics). 

tzuyu merely holds it against her teeth, unwilling to take a bit nor choke on the bit after your request. 

you take a deep breath, and twine your hands with hers, looking into her eyes steadily. 

“i want you to kiss me.” 

these several plus years of friendship that tzuyu will never get enough of, tired was also out of the question. nothing could’ve prepared her for the opportunity of hearing those words that deeply carve out one of the core instincts that she has been fighting to keep within. 

the cracker falls out of tzuyu’s mouth.

you, on the other hand, face full of optimism and hope immediately replaced with frowns from the fallen cracker sitting on tzuyu’s lap, picking it up. your fingers brush against her hip bone, and tzuyu suppresses a gasp. 

also, you’re oblivious to tzuyu’s inner crisis, looking at the cracker before biting it, in the same spot more than a third of the cracker is caught between your teeth. 

“what are you saying?��� 

“i want you to kiss me.” you say, seriously, after chewing the last part of the cracker that will haunt tzuyu’s dreams for the coming decades. 

“why?” 

“do people need a reason to kiss each other, tzuyu?” 

“when the people in the problem set are one’s best friends, then of course.” 

you sigh, troubled. “fine,” you say, not willing to look up from where you fidget with the ripped wrapper of the cracker stack. “you got me. i have a date with a girl this weekend and i have never kissed a girl, ever. i want it to be good for her. you’ve kissed a girl, and i want you to assess me.” 

“assess you?” 

nodding to tzuyu’s question. “i want it to be good for her, tzu! besides, you’re one of the few people that i trust the most. i want you to kiss me and tell me how it is. now are you gonna help me?” 

a few seconds of silence pass that the weight of it envelops every fabric and cell of their being, you begin to fiddle with the hem of your shirt, a habit that you procured in times of nervousness. 

“forget it,” you say abruptly. “i know that sana has kissed girls before. i’ll ask her—” 

“no!”

“no?” 

“no,” tzuyu says, holding your face between her soft hands. “i’ll do it,” she says. “i’ll help you with this.” 

—

you taste like a wintergreen mint. 

tzuyu tilts her head up, one hand spread across the back of your neck, the other, holding your chin so that she can deepen the kiss, until tzuyu herself begins to taste the minty aroma and feel like stardust. 

tzuyu also should’ve been keeping an open ear to the cautionary tune her heart laid out in front of her. her mind should’ve also said the same thing the way her brain racked the sole idea of kissing you for practice. nothing good would come out of this. you will kiss another girl sometime this weekend and many other girls after that, but tzuyu is weak and in love and can’t fathom not kissing you, not when you asked it yourself. 

your arms are coiled around tzuyu’s long neck, pulling her closer than ever before, even though the meters between the two of you now are only separated by the thin layers of clothes. gently trailing her fingers from your chin to your neck and waist, tzuyu hauls you up until you settle on her lap. 

the both of you break apart for a second, your eyes with a glint to them, dazed, glossy pink lips still parted, bodies molding together oh-so perfectly. 

it was you who kissed tzuyu for the first time, so tzuyu takes it upon herself to press your forehead with hers, chasing your lips for more. the kiss itself is less frantic and more gentle, taking her time skimming her hands across your back, tilting your head towards her, trailing your hands every single spot possible in the hopes of grasping something. eventually, you fingers are in her hair, taking apart the ponytail and running your fingers through it again. 

love me, tzuyu mouths out while she kisses you. love me, only me, no one else, just me. 

tzuyu’s lips find your jaw, feathery kisses until she meets the fork where your ear and neck meet. you let out a small noise from the bottom of your throat and tzuyu wants to have it all, to revel in it, keep it close to herself in her heart for the eons of years to pass. she finds her way to your neck, and the idea of marking you, to show the mystery girl that you’ll see know that she was here first, and with the premonition that she’ll stay with you forever–

under the crook of your neck, in the palms of your hands, hooked on your ribs as if the set numbers were like lifelines; anywhere, wherever you see fit. 

when you two finally break apart this time, you open your eyes, blinking rapidly to erase the remnants of the daze that was clouding the both of you, smiling softly that tzuyu thinks she’s in a dream. although, it wouldn’t be the first time that she’s dreamt something dangerously real, can’t accept the facts. 

but your body is warm between tzuyu’s palms, floral scent draping all of her sense. you were as real as you can be. tzuyu feels nervous with the pricks

of sweat coating her neck, heart rate struggling to keep calm inside her chest, threatening to break free from the cages. 

in her dreams, your eyes wouldn’t suddenly widen in disbelief, you wouldn’t clutch onto tzuyu’s shoulders, not willing to meet tzuyu’s eyes after that. 

a block forms, tugging from the depths of tzuyu’s chest. 

“y/n,” tzuyu asks, voice horse. “did i go too far?” 

you snap your eyes towards tzuyu, in fact not meeting her eyes, rapidly shaking your head. “no, not at all.” you answer, tone shrill. “but a–, that was—was really good.” 

finally meeting tzuyu’s eyes, your face swept in a vibrant pink. 

“that was?” 

you, in a flurry of sudden actions, pat tzuyu’s hair to flatten it, pinching her cheek, before breaking apart the bubble of a minty fulfilled dream that just happened a few seconds ago. “is that even a question?” you ask, licking your lips. “kissing girls is so different from kissing boys,” you say. “i liked this a lot. was it, um, w-was it good for you?” 

“what are you talking about?” tzuyu laughs, seeing a smile on your face. “you’re a good kisses,” she says, trying to be as objective as she can. this was a test, an experiment after all. not an outcry of feelings. “you know what you’re doing, so it won’t be bad for you this weekend when you go. i’m sure of that.” 

standing up, you pat down your shirt and sweatpants, saying, “okay good, i’m—i’m happy that it was good for you because it was good for me, clearly, and i–shoot—i should probably—” 

you don’t spare tzuyu another glance, running off to your room, the slam of the door echoed through the walls. 

tzuyu just sits there, back against the leg of the sofa, the half-eaten stack of crackers and empty glasses of water on the table, enthralling her attention as if they were people who just witnessed something out in public. her head hits the cushion behind her, clenching the scream wanting to be unleashed from inside her. 

for the reminder of how reality works in this world, things will–not remain the same between her and you. the air was already heavy with tension, anchored with tzuyu’s feeling, suspended in time with the words captive in the nooks and cracks of her body. 

tzuyu will have to learn how to live with the knowledge of how you taste, the small noises you make, the way your face shapes when her mouth is on yours, eyes closed as you chase tzuyu’s mouth like it was the last thing you had to do. 

she doesn’t know how to recover from this information. 

—

the two of you don’t talk about it. 

few days pass, and tzuyu leaves her pottery class. you arrive a few hours after you were sure that tzuyu was asleep. 

(she wasn’t asleep. in fact, she was waiting for you to come home. only able to fully rest when the sound of the door opening and closing, the soft sounds of your feet hitting the wood in and around the house.)

you and tzuyu have a thursday class together in music theory, sharing a shaken look between each other when the paths cross to the living room.

“you wanna leave together?” you ask, strangely nervous with a pensive look on your face. 

tzuyu nods her head, and that was it. 

you two don’t talk about it still, because there’s nothing to be discussed. 

after dinner, tzuyu finds herself going along to being kissed by you again. more practice never hurt anybody, or anyone for that matter. 

tzuyu slides in her bed with a heavy heat, lips aflame with the phantom stir of yours on them. 

it’s okay, she thinks. it’s gonna be okay. i’ll be okay. 

—

“you’re leaving?” tzuyu asks you on saturday, realizing in a manner that your date was today. a date, the whole reason you kissed tzuyu. 

you look dashing, transcendent beyond existence. tzuyu loves you so much. 

nervously, you start messing with the flimsy fabric of your dress pants, “i am,” you say, “did you want something?” 

“no,” tzuyu lies, heart clogging her throat. 

you take a step closer, breaking the bubble around tzuyu. “did you want to say something?” 

“no,” tzuyu lies again, heart in her hands. 

“okay then.” you say, “i’ll be going now.” 

“okay.” tzuyu replies. “have fun on your date.” 

something omniscient falls over the ever-constant glow on your face. “i will, i’m sure of it.” 

tzuyu feels her pulse accelerate, hands clenching and unclenching in succession. there’s so much that she wants to blurt out. so much that will ruin the close friendship that she has with you. but being selfish isn’t the way to go, the risk that is carried by making her feelings your problems too. 

it’ll be fine, tzuyu tells herself. this will pass too. she’s fine, she’s okay, she’s breathing—and if she keeps beating it down her being, maybe her heart won’t feel like it’s being trampled on. 

everything will be okay, this will all work out in the end. 

—

“something is wrong,” sana begins, eating her french fry, the same evening when she invites herself to tzuyu’s home with a bag of food and snacks. “you’re not okay.” 

“everything is great!” tzuyu says, chasing down her words with half of a boba drink. “and, i am okay.” 

sana’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “it’s not really you to lie in front of my face.” 

“i need you to stop prying.” 

“is it because y/n’s on that date right now?” 

“sana, i’m fine.” 

“shut up, it is, isn’t it?!”

“sana!”

“okay, i’ll stop,” sana says, raising her hands in surrender. “i believe you. everything is okay and you are doing fine.” 

—

you don’t offer more information about your date other than just saying, “we should go watch that one movie together, tzuyu.” 

tzuyu doesn’t even bother asking either. 

two days after, you come bearing another tempting proposition that steals tzuyu’s breath away—literally. 

“that one barista from the cafe we regularly go to asked me out,” you say, already straddling tzuyu’s lap. “i didn’t kiss that girl from saturday and i think i’m a little iffy about my–technique. can you help me with it again?”

tzuyu tears down the banners of doubts in her mind, providing her mouth pressing against yours, feeling like the can finally breath now after not being able to for so long. 

she doesn’t bother asking you about it, again. 

—

more and more kisses are being shared in the days leading up to your date. always in the evening, an hour before going to bed.

tzuyu finds out all the different ways in which you like being kissed. even though an unspoken boundary between them is crossed past the point of rational thinking. she finds herself putting up a boundary before it becomes all too much, too fast. like her soul feels like it’s being robbed of once those walls are up, but it’s okay. 

tzuyu tells herself that it’s okay. she will live through this. 

she’s fine, and everything’s gonna be okay. 

—

when you come back from the date, drunk, the sleep is immediately left from tzuyu’s body, and she’s alert, awake on the sofa. she puts her book and the small blanket back in their places, walking over to help you remove your shoes and find your way back into the house.

you look at tzuyu with a blearily smile, holding onto her waist tightly. “hi,” you say, grinning. 

“hi,” tzuyu greets back, holding onto you as you’re sliding on the floor, head lolling back on the head of the sofa. “are you alright?” 

“amazing!” you answer, giddy. 

“how was your date?” 

tzuyu blinks one eye open, grinning sarcastically. “oh? you didn’t ask me how it went the last time. this is a sign.” 

“you didn’t tell me anything either,” tzuyu also points out. 

you sigh, slumping your head on tzuyu’s toned shoulder. “true,” you mumble. “i guess it was okay.” 

“just okay?” 

tzuyu feels you nodding your head. “i am so tired, tzu!” you whine, nudging your head closer. tzuyu suppresses a shudder as she feels your eyelids fluter closed against her neck. “i’m gonna fall asleep right here, okay?” 

“that’s okay,” tzuyu says, pressing her fingertips into your scalp, just the way that you like it. 

“you’re the best,” you mumble again, sounding half-asleep. “do you know that? you’re the very best, tzu.” 

tzuyu doesn’t know how to respond without revealing the very depth of everything she feels about you. 

“i guess,” your whisper is like a knife through the curtain of silence between the two of you. “i guess the problem is that no one is you. they don’t kiss the way that you do.” 

tzuyu’s heart stops. “y/n, what do you mean?” 

…

“y/n?” 

…

a lack of a reply prompts tzuyu to thread her fingers through your hair, gently tapping your shoulder. “y/n.” she softly calls. “don’t you know to not say things like this to me?” she whispers too, confident that you were asleep. your breath steady, head heavy. 

you mumble something closely incoherent, and your head sags into tzuyu’s chest. 

despite the tumultuous beat of her heart, tzuyu finds herself smiling, as she cradles your head, hoping that laying on her lap would be more comfortable for you, and drapes the blanket over your legs. 

“that’s the issue with me, too.” tzuyu says while palming your hair. “i guess i stopped kissing other people because they weren’t you. i wish i could stop looking for you in every person that i meet.” 

—

it’s not like tzuyu was not aware of the happy hour event that’s regularly held at that one bar that the friend group usually ends up in at a night like this, but it’s just that she didn’t care enough about it, especially after living for about three months in a new city. 

two days after you realized that you were bisexual, you looked at the poster that announced the party for the lgbtq community happening on a friday night well off into the new semester with a newfound excitement. “we should go here!” you shrieked while pointing at the poster. “i didn’t even know that this was a thing.” 

“it’s a thing alright,” tzuyu answers, resigning herself to the fate of ending up at that party, especially a few weeks before happening. 

“have you ever been to a party like this?” 

“not a lot, but a few.” tzuyu replies. “they’re interesting.” and unfamiliar, because they’re loud and crowded. the heavy bass of music blasting through the speakers, making her heart match to the beat of the rhythm. 

“well, you should show me around then!” you had said, and that was it. 

now, about a little over three weeks or so after tzuyu first made out with her best friend only to help you practice for dates with people that weren’t tzuyu, standing in front of the said best friend, trying to obviously leer at your appearance. 

you were wearing a white crop top shirt with ripped jeans layered with a black leather jacket. this outfit in particular had been printed in tzuyu’s brain since she saw you wear it for the first time—and a one piece dress

you catch tzuyu looking and wink. “what? i look good, don’t i?” 

‘good’ doesn’t even begin to cover it, but tzuyu nods, nonetheless. 

bounding up with tzuyu, arms interlocked together. “thank you!” you exclaim. “you have to look great too! when did you buy this blouse?” you ask, gesturing at tzuyu’s outfit. “i have to borrow it one day,” you say, as you make your way outside the house, head resting on tzuyu’s shoulder.

“okay,” tzuyu readily agrees despite it being her favorite blouse and your tendency to not return her clothes after ‘borrowing’ them. 

the club is crowded by the time you reach there—full of people that tzuyu recognizes the way gay people tend to recognize each other across the campus, and those she does not. 

your face is set with an ever-present grin, taking in the clamour and infecting excitement of energy that’s radiating of all the people here. all eyes were on you and you just seem to bask in it, but your eyes were on tzuyu. there’s a low glo to you. the only person glowing in a sea of people. tzuyu is so in love with you that it aches, it aches, and it aches. 

“let’s dance!” you yell over the sound of the booming music. 

tzuyu is pulled into your arms the minute she agrees to it. sinking into your arms as though she always belonged there should be weird, tzuyu thinks. it’s supposed to be weird, especially because you and her couldn’t even look at each other until a few days ago, until you came back home drunk and slept on tzuyu’s lap. 

but it isn’t. this feels as natural as breathing, normal like your heart beating, the sun rising, the world turning painstakingly slow. 

colorful lights dance on your face as you pull tzuyu close, hands curling around her neck. tzuyu, helplessly in love, holding you by the waist and sways with some sense of rhythm to the music. 

you pull tzuyu closer, so that her ear is met with your lips. “is this how it always is?” 

“i think so,” tzuyu replies. save for a few strobe lights, the night seems the same as it always does. it must feel different for you though. “how do you feel?” tzuyu asks, resting her chin on your shoulder. 

“good!” you cheer. “like, i didn’t even know that there were so many of us here! i truly believed that it would be less crowded. in fact, it is more.”

tzuyu nods, clutching her hands tighter around your waist. 

you sway and dance together, sometimes following the rhythm of the songs blasting out of the subwoofers, and the other times creating your own rhythm entirely, but that doesn’t matter. 

what matters to tzuyu—at this moment and all the others that have happened and will—is this; your bright smile reserved only for her, your warm hands around hers, your feet falling in step with her, your laughter when you dip down into her, or the high pitched call of her name that makes her twirl in her mind, the gaze fixated on her lips, the grasp on her heart: for now and always forever (in hope) will be you. and only you.

you and tzuyu break apart when you loudly demand that you’re thirsty and need a drink. tzuyu, helpless to do anything else, clutches your hand and makes you follow, even though she can’t wade through the crowd of strangers by the bar. 

tzuyu is grateful that the thump of the music in this area is a lot less, deciding on standing a few feet away, looking at you valiantly finding her way towards the bartender, jumping only when she feels a tap against her shoulder. 

elkie, one of the other friends that tzuyu is very familiar with, perhaps a year her senior, stands across her with a broad smile on her lips. 

“it’s been so long since i saw you here,” she says, stepping closer. “how are you doing?” 

“good,” tzuyu replies with a smile. “how bout you?” 

the music picks up in volume where they are, causing them to stand closer which isn’t entirely ideal, but it’s alright. elkie is good company, and tzuyu doesn’t mind. 

“are you looking for someone?” elkie asks, when she notices tzuyu look into the crowd of people at the bar station trying to see someone in a black leather jacket. “do you want me to help you find them?” 

“just my friend.” tzuyu replies, turning towards elkie. “she went in to get drinks for us and hasn’t come out yet.” 

elkie laughs. “she’ll come back, i’m sure. but tell me about you, tzuyu. are you dating someone?” 

tzuyu darts her eyes away from elkie. “i’m not actually, no.” 

elkie eyes brighten. “well, if that’s the case, call me if you want? you do have my number, right?” 

tzuyu blinks, before the realization dawns on her. “oh,” she says. “no.” she replies, turning towards elkie. 

“elkie, i—” 

elkie’s eyes widen with an understanding. “ah, you’re not seeing someone, but you do like someone,” she infers. tzuyu doesn’t say anything, only turning sideways to the crowd in which you have disappeared to. “yeah,” she replies, looking back at elkie.

she nods, gently holding tzuyu’s shoulders. “i get that,” elkie says. “i hope you figure it out, whatever that may be.” 

“thank you.” 

elkie smiles back, and plants a kiss on the corner of tzuyu’s mouth. “i think i saw someone i didn’t want to see, so i’m gonna run now,” she says. “don’t be a stranger, okay? let’s meet up for some lunch sometime—as friends, of course.” 

tzuyu smiles, patting her back neatly. “i will.” 

elkie excuses herself, walking swiftly past tzuyu, vanishing into the crowd. 

out of a bad habit set in the last fifteen minutes or so, tzuyu looks sideways to the crowd that you had ventured into, only to meet your distraught face. 

your face even turns furious when tzuyu meetes your eyes, but the undercurrent of hurt is open and raw. tzuyu instantly takes a step forward by instinct, wondering what caused it, relizing that you must’ve seen elkie kissing her cheek for this anger to be directed at tzuyu. but it shouldn’t bother you as much as it did—because why would it, it’s not like you to be jealous, because that would imply that you like—

huh. 

“you were here with me.” you shout over the music, steamrolling over close enough for tzuyu to see the shimmer on your skin. “we came here together.” 

“y/n—”

“if you dont’ like me back,” you start, shoulders dipping down in defeat. 

well, shit. 

tzuyu’s body breaks at that. 

“if you don’t like me back, then just say it instead of making me witness whatever the hell i just saw,” you say, drinking the entirety of the fizzy orange behemoth of a drink that was in your hand in one swig, and slamming tzuyu’s shot glass on the table. 

—

tzuyu finds you leaning against someone’s car, staring up at the sky. 

she wordlessly covers your exposed shirt with the leather jacket you dropped on the way out of the club. 

“that was elkie,” tzuyu breaks the silence. “she’s one of the few people that i know from coming to these parties. i guess we somewhat keep in touch now. we don’t like each other romantically. never, no.” 

you blink, while looking at her, nodding while fixing your leather jacket to fit it more better on your shoulders. 

“tzuyu,” you say. “what i said before—”

“is it true? tzuyu asks, urgency seeping in her words by the millisecond. “do you truly like me?” 

you look at tzuyu, broken. “i wore this outfit for you,” you say again. “i hate stiff leather.” 

tzuyu looks at you again, out of depth completely. 

“i hate this jacket but i love the way you look at me when i wear it. so i wore it today, with you. the only person i could see in this crowd today was you, tzuyu,” you say. “i came up with a silly, stupid excuse to kiss you. so you tell me if what i said was true or not.” 

“a stupid excuse?” 

“i didn’t have any dates,” you laugh without levity. “i had people asking me out, yes, but i couldn’t agree because they’re not you, tzuyu. the only person i want to go on a date with. the only person i want to kiss and be kissed is by you. so i lied to your face and told you that i wanted to practice. i made up with a terrible excuse to kiss you that doesn’t even make sense because i thought you could, maybe like me back too! and it really felt like you did, but then i see that and-”

“i like you.” 

you stop your train of thought from the sentence that just came out of tzuyu’s lips. “what did you say?” 

“i like you too,” tzuyu says, as rushed as she could say. “i like you so much. so, so much. it’s—” 

“you…what!?” you jolt with unbridled astonishment, crying, turning to grab tzuyu by the shoulders.

“why do you think i kept kissing you?” tzuyu asks with ardor. “i liked you too much to say no. i just—i couldn’t. and i wanted to go on dates with you and kiss you without having a reason, but i just couldn’t.” 

a bitter laugh leaves your lips, head hung down while you kick your sneakers into the asphalt. 

“you could—you could have,” you say, nodding in fervor. “you could have. i really, really wanted you to.” 

“i just didn’t know,” tzuyu says, regretfully, cupping your face. “and i’m sorry that i didn’t.”

your eyes flutter shut. “well, you do now.” you say. “you know that i like you. i like you so, so much, tzu.” 

“you know that i like you too. so, so much.” 

your eyes open again, teasing a glint quite apparent. “so, what are you going to do with this information, then?” you ask.

tzuyu, with her heart fluttering endlessly in her chest, brings you closer. with eyes closed, you meet tzuyu in the middle. 

you taste like beer, candy blossoms, and heaven. you taste like everything that tzuyu wanted, everything that tzuyu could ever want or need in her life. 

i love you, tzuyu mouths into yours as she kisses you. i love you, love you, love you. 

when you eventually break apart, a smile sprays across your lips, leaning in close, foreheads pressed together, one of tzuyu’s hands on your chest, right where the heart is patting frantically. “i love you, tzu.” 

another kiss is shared again, this time more slowly as the both of you took in the taste of exchanging lips, not wanting to ever pull away. it’s just you and tzuyu, entrapped in that silly little world that you and her have built around for so many years, now elevated to a new echelon. 

chou tzuyu doesn't like idiots.

but there was something about being with you as an idiot that makes it tolerable to deal with, and she doesn't mind that.

brushing your lips against tzuyu’s, you’re giggling and she follows. 

“i’ll embrace you like this, forever.” 

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #hyunie #twice imagines #tzuyu imagines #twice tzuyu #chou tzuyu #tzuyu x reader #twice fluff #tzuyu fluff #chou tzuyu x reader

[collapsedglasshouses]

Mine [Noah Sebastian x Singer!Reader]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Singer!Reader (female)

SUMMARY: You are Noah's girlfriend and helped him out during the concert, because he lost his voice. After the performance he wants to thank you.

WARNINGS: swearing, SMUT, MDNI, 18+, unprotected sex (P in V) (don’t do that), fingering, (let me know if i missed something)

A/N: Surprise! Two uploads today! This idea came to my mind because of I See Stars and Erra helping the boys out. If you enjoyed it, please consider reblogging!

TAGLIST: @measuredingold (LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST)

Today had been entirely different than you originally thought. You visited your boyfriend of almost a year on tour and planned to stay in the background.

Being a well known singer in a band as well, you met the boys over a mutual friend, Jesse Cash. You had met Jesse around three years ago when he helped you and your band write on your new album and even featured on it.

Becoming friends with Jesse made it almost impossible to not meet the boys and you were more than pleasantly surprised of how well you all got along.

You almost immediately clicked with Noah, having this mutual interest in music and creating art while living similar lifestyles.

It almost came naturally how quickly Noah and you got closer. First it started with some hang outs that often included creating music together. Those hang outs quickly turned into self-named "friend dates" and before you really realised it, you were suddenly the "friends" who thought it was totally normal to occasionally make out and have sex.

It took you almost a year to admit your feelings for each other. But when you finally did, you did everything you could to find time for each other.

You two being singers of bands that had the opportunity to blow up over night, made it pretty hard to match schedules.

That is why you were more than relieved when you got a couple of weeks off and decided to join your boyfriend and your friends on their tour.

But when you arrived your happy mood quickly changed. After greeting Folio and Jesse, you asked were your boyfriend was but when you found him, he looked everything but happy.

"Hey, Baby. What’s wrong?" You immediately asked and left your suitcase next to the door before quickly wrapping your arms around him.

Almost instantly he returned your hug while sighing and rested his head against your neck.

"I'm so fucking done." You immediately noticed what the problem was. His voice was hoarse and rough.

"Oh no…" You muttered under your breath and rubbed his back.

"I couldn’t even sing yesterday. We had to cut the set short." He confessed to you and slowly let go of you.

"Why didn’t you tell me? I could have brought my special tea and some goodies to make you feel better, Noah." You asked him and caressed his cheek. A smile crept onto his face. "You know, I love you so much, Y/N."

"I love you, too."

The next couple of hours were filled with planning and even thinking about cancelling the show but when you all set down and ate, Jesse had an idea.

"What if we help you sing? You just sing what you can and we all step in when you can’t." He explained and Matt started to nod. You saw how stressed Matt was, trying to make the best out of the suboptimal situations that kept on happening this tour. "That would actually be a great idea. We can ask Devin, too."

"Y/N can step in, too." Jesse than suggested and gave you a careful look. You stopped chewing when you heard that sentence and immediately looked between Noah and Jesse.

This would have been a big step, considering the fan base didn’t really know about yours and Noah's relationship. It wasn’t like you were really secretive about it, a lot of them were even guessing it, since you always seemed to be near each other but you never really confirmed anything. If you would sing tonight, there would be little to no doubt that something was definitely going on, considering the fact that you had no reason to be there otherwise than being close with one of the boys.

Your eyes locked with Noah’s, who seemed to wait for a response from you while you waited for his. When he didn’t speak up, you cleared your through before taking a sip from you water.

"I could, if you want me to." You offered and felt how Noah's hand slipped onto your thigh. He gave you a reassuring squeeze before looking at the others. "I would love that."

Erra had finished their set ten minutes prior and now you started to sweat. You wouldn’t be on that stage until they played Just Pretend and for Dethrone at the end, but your heart was racing.

"Are you okay?" You heard a voice behind you and shortly after felt a hand on your shoulder. Jesse.

You quickly gave him a smile and nodded. "Yeah. Just nervous."

"You know, you don’t have to do it. Devin can step in for you. I can step in for you." Jesse tried to calm your nerves. He knew exactly why you were this nervous.

"No, I'll do it." You reassured him and he nodded. "It’s just scary, you know. It’s always been just Noah and I. We didn’t answer any questions that had to do with our relationship status, we just kept everything to ourselves and this is going to change now."

"You'll be great." Jesse answered you and you quickly gave him a hug.

When you sang the last note of the song, you felt relieve. The applause totally overwhelmed you, when you suddenly felt a hand sneak around your waist. It was Noah. His eyes were shimmering and his smile was the brightest you had ever seen. It had been a complete success.

You had to grin so much that your cheeks started to hurt. It wasn't like you never experienced something like that, but it just felt different to stand on that stage with your boyfriend.

You all bowed to the audience before walking ever so slowly off the stage. As soon as you were backstage, you all fell into each other's arms.

"THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!" Folio exclaimed while slightly jumping up and down. You still couldn't stop smiling. The crowd had been amazing and you had so much fun performing with your boyfriend that you forgot about your concerns entirely. Hell, if you had the option right now you would broadcast to the whole world how much you loved him.

"It was absolutely brilliant." Jolly praised the whole group. Jesse still held onto you before pinching your cheek. "You did so well, I had goose bumps." - "You are one to talk. You sounded so great."

Noah still grinned from ear to ear while looking at you all. "I had so much fun. Thank you all so much for helping me out."

"You did so great, Noah. Even with your not so healthy voice." You praised your boyfriend before giving him a big kiss. He held you close when you broke the kiss again.

When the group made their way to the lounge room, you and Noah walked behind them all. He didn't let go of your hands since you walked off the stage and right now you couldn't be happier.

Right when you were about to catch up to the others, you were dragged into the bathroom that was in the corridor before the lounge. You heard the click of the door, which showed you that it was locked.

"Noah, what-..." You tried to say but you were met with his lips on yours. You instantly felt goose bumps form on your body while he kissed you like you would disappear if he stopped.

"This is your reward, baby." He whispered in your ear and seconds later he softly bit your neck. You could feel how wet you got just from that.

He pressed you against the door and kissed his way back to her face. Before you could even catch a straight thought, he opened your pants and let them slight down your legs while kissing you hard.

"You did so well. You sounded like an angel." He almost moaned into your mouth while his hand found its way into your underwear. You moaned out his name when his fingers found your clit. Even though you already got used to his touches, this time felt so different to you.

His fingers began to circle your clit with swift motions and you felt like you were crumbling into little pieces right in front of him. Your hands found their way into his short hair. At times like this you missed his longer hair, because you couldn't grab onto his shirt hair that easily anymore.

"Fuck. I love you so much." You moaned and let your head fall against the door while you slowly started to shake under his touch.

You almost let out a scream when he suddenly stopped fingering you and instead lifted you onto the bathroom counter in a swift motion. You didn't have the time to react properly because he kissed you again.

"You don't know how much it turned me on, seeing you sing my song on that fucking stage." He groaned into your mouth and pulled your underwear down. "Showing every single one how proud you are to be my girlfriend."

"Fuck, I love being yours." You cried out and started to pull on his tank top to get it off of him.

He smiled at you when you finally got the shirt off of him. "Look at you, so needy." - "Only because of you."

You easily opened his pants, but when you tried to pull them off of him, he grabbed your hands and looked you in the eyes. "This is about you, my love. Not me." - "Please, Noah. I need you."

He stared into your eyes but you couldn't form a clear thought in your head and whined again. "Please, Noah. I haven't felt you in so long."

"Is this really what you want?" He asked you in a deep tone and you still could noticed how rough his voice was. You needed to take care of him later. "Please."

"God, you drive me insane, Y/N." He groaned against your mouth before stepping back to pull his pants and underwear down. You felt a rush of heat run through your body when you saw his hardened cock leaking with pre-cum. You needed him so bad, you almost cried out again.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, while you leaned a bit more over the edge of the counter to get closer to him. He ran a hand through his hair, before stepping between your legs and lining himself with your entrance.

He looked you in the eyes again while slowly sinking into you. You moaned out loudly at the feeling of him inside of you, causing him to press a hand over your mouth.

"Even though I love your voice so much, I don't think the boys should hear this." He whispered to you and you slowly began to nod.

His eyes never left yours as he slowly started to move his hips.

He furrowed his eyebrows and his mouth dropped slightly open. His heavy breaths turned in to quiet moans and you thought you were about to lose your mind at the noises he made.

"You feel so fucking good." He almost cried out, causing you to get goose bumps before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. When his thrusts became harder, you felt his hands squeeze your hips even more. You were sure he would leave bruises.

"I love you so much." You whined when you started to feel your orgasm form in your stomach. His head fell onto your shoulder and you felt him twitching inside of you. He also was close.

"I love you." He moaned in your ear and sent you over the edge with that.

You bit down onto his shoulder to contain your moans while you reached your high, clenching around him.

"Oh God." Noah moaned into your ear while his thrusts became more irregular before you felt his cum spread inside of you.

You both held onto each other, while you came down from your highs, before you started to giggle lightly.

"What?" Your boyfriend asked you and slowly pulled out of you, causing you to whine quietly at the loss of contact.

"What's so funny?" He asked again when he started to clean you up.

"You tell me to be quiet, just to almost scream." You teased him and pressed a kiss on his forehead, when he gave you a shocked look.

With that you jumped of the counter and reached for your clothes, when he grabbed your hips and turned you to face him.

"If you tease me again, I'll make sure, you're the one to scream." He threatened you.

"PLEASE DON'T. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO WANT TO ENJOY THERE EVENING WITHOUT HEARING A FULL ON PORN FROM NEXT DOOR." You heard Ruffilo shout through the door of the bathroom.

Your eyes widened and you quickly got ready to leave, but before Noah could reach the door, you grabbed his hand and pull him towards you.

You kiss him deeply, before whispering against his lips: "Now, let's get you into bed. I'll take care of you."

"God, I love you."

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens rpf #collapsedglasshouseswrites

[becomingmina]

hey would you be able to write a felix x fem reader angst? when felix falls out of love with her.

“ARE YOU SURE IT'S NOT HATE?" anon request w/ LEE FELIX.

pairing: felix x female reader genre + warnings: angst, reader cries wc: 1.9k mina's note: tmi - my ex fell out of love with me so this hits home a little. we meet when we were 12 and we broke up when we were 21. anyways, i hope you guys like this :)) and to the cuties anon who requested this, thank you very much!! sorry for making you wait, im just like felix i have no reason!

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

“I asked you a question baby,” you say from across the kitchen island. Felix was occupied on his phone, sitting on the stool on the other side of the counter.

“I gave you an answer Y/N,” he huffs after a few seconds, not lifting his head from the device.

“Yeah, but not verbally though,” you make your way over to him.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’re grown enough to figure it out, Y/N,” he replies back, rolling his eyes up from his screen for a second before continuing with scrolling.

“You’re really fine with them being blue?” You questioned again, hugging him from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“They’re just cupcakes, they’ll get eaten anyways. I don’t understand what’s the big problem with the colour of the icing,” he says irritated.

It was Chan’s turn to host dinner for your friend group. You and Felix usually bring over homemade cupcakes for dessert. It was a ritual to spend every last Saturday of the month together in the kitchen baking and decorating two dozen cupcakes. And usually, it was Felix who would have a hard time choosing the colour for the icing but today it seems he just wanted to get the cupcakes over and done with.

“Okay,” you replied defeated, feeling a little hurt at his tone. “Did you wanna help me?” You softly asked, sniffing his shoulder to take in his sweet scent.

“I’m busy,” Felix sighed.

“Okay, I’ll iced them then,” you moved yourself away Felix, walking back to your original position in the kitchen.

Lately you feel like Felix hasn’t been his clingy needy self. He would stick onto you like glue every second of the day but recently he’s been distant. You can’t pinpoint when exactly it became like this, but you were sure it’s been a couple of weeks by now. He’s been telling you that work has been busy for him, and you understand how it can affect him, but you still feel a little bit downhearted when he visually shows his annoyance with you.

After finished up with the icing and getting yourself ready, you sat in living room with the box of cupcakes on your lap patiently waiting for Felix. He had locked himself in the office, saying he needed to go over his feedback for some report for work.

“Hey, how’d it go?” You ask when you hear the office door open, but he ignores your question as he searches for his car keys. You expected it didn't go well.

The car ride to Chan’s was silent as you figured you should probably give him some space. He looks over to your side a couple of times noticing your quietness, but he doesn’t strike conversation with you, only making a few little comments about how bad traffic was. You brushed off his lack of initiative making excuses for him that he was just tired from work.

“He surprised me the other day! He’s going to rent out my favourite art gallery for our wedding reception,” Hana and Hyunjin was giving the group details their upcoming wedding at dinner. They were so cheerful talking about it and although you loved it for them, you couldn’t help envy it and wished for you and Felix to reach that stage in life shortly.

“Who’s next? Felix? Y/N?” Chan teased with a raised brow, and you goofily smile at the older man. You turned your head to Felix to see his reaction, but his head is tilted down and his face was straight. Chan notices the tension and quickly changes subject hoping no one else catch on. It caught you by surprise that he wasn’t as responsive as you were to Chan’s joke. It got you second guessing if it was even work that’s been making him like this.

You spend the rest of the night with the other girlfriends. As they spoke about their recent dates with their partner, all you could do was be happy for them concealing the fact that you and Felix hadn’t been on one in ages. You keep glancing over at Felix throughout the night but he showed you no attention. Usually you would catch him staring at you and blowing kisses and winks at you, but tonight there was nothing.

The car ride home was the same as the car ride there - quiet.

Felix walked in your apartment first, you followed behind him closely. As you put your bag on the entry way table you tripped over a pair of shoes accidentally falling forward on Felix in the process.

“Y/N watch yourself!” Felix yells, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry,” you softly say as you got up. “I just tripped,” you defend yourself, feeling tears start to form in your eyes at his tone.

“God can you look where you’re going?!” he groans turning around to face you. He was red mad. He had never got this angry at you before for tripping over.

“Did I do something wrong to you Felix?” You asked softly, feeling something heavy in your chest. You needed an answer to why he’s been treating you differently, it’s obvious now that it wasn’t because of work. “Last couple of weeks you have just been distant towards me and I’m a little hurt by it,” you say cracking your voice in the process, pulling a string on Felix’s heart. He frowns at your reaction.

You watch him sigh, hesitating little bit before he answers “You know work is hectic-”

“-Is it?” You questioned in an offended tone, dumbfounded that he used the same excuse again - work. “Work is hectic that you have to yell at me because I accidentally tripped on your shoes? Work’s been hectic that you can’t even smile at me in front of our friends? Work’s been hectic that you can’t even answer a simple question about the colour of the icing on the cupcakes that use to mean so much to you?!”

You didn’t expect to have an outburst like this. Felix doesn’t reply, he just takes a deep breath watching you as you continue to lash out at him.

“You don’t ask if I’m okay anymore. You don’t hug me anymore. Because of work?” You chuckle, sarcastically.

“Y/N-” he takes a step closer to you.

“-You’ve leave for work early in the morning and come back home late on the days I’m at home-”

“I-” he tried to speak again.

“And when it’s the weekend you lock yourself in the office all day. You avoid spending time with me, you avoid talking to me.” Your face was red, brows furrowed as you keep your tears from falling.

“Y/N, let me talk-”

“What did I do to-” You cut him off again.

“I’m not inlove you anymore!” Your heart drops at his words. The tears you tried to conceal instantly rolls down your cheeks and you take in a sharp breath. “This relationship is draining me.” He adds, breaking you even more.

You didn’t expect this. He’s been so mean to you lately all because he wasn’t in love you anymore? It doesn’t make sense to you that all of this was done because he fell out of love. You refuse to believe it.

“Are you sure it’s not hate?” You sniffled, pulling another string from Felix’s heart. "Are you sure it's not because you hate me?" you repeat yourself when he doesn't answer, feeling a bit anxious that it might be true, that he actually hates you.

“Never.” Felix replied rapidly this time, his tone a lot more softer now. “I could never hate you Y/N." Felix continues to conceals his emotions, not letting anything pass you.

“But you’ve been acting like you do.” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, your eyes wavering to seek any reaction from him.

“I just needed space Y/N.”

“I gave you space. So much space,” you retorted.

“I think we should..” he stops before he says the last words, letting you piece the puzzle by yourself.

“You want to leave me?” You question and he flicks his eyes away from yours. You got your answer.

He lets out a heavy breath, running his fingers through his blonde hair, his eyes falling back on yours. “It’s for the best Y/N.”

“No, I don’t understand. Where I go wrong, Lix?.” you reached out to grip his forearm as the tears continued down your face, dripping to the floor.

“I don’t want to be here with you anymore,” he says softly, trying to loosen himself from your hold but you latch onto him tighter as you shake your head no.

“That’s not a reason Lix. Tell me where I went wrong,” You needed answers. He owe it to you. “You were the one who chased me, remember? You made me fall in love with you. It’s been 4 years and you want to leave me? Why?” You asked, in a complete mess.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “I’m sorry Y/N,” Felix apologies.

“Tell me why?”

“I can’t-”

“Then stay.” If he didn’t have an answer then he shouldn’t leave you, it’s unfair.

Y/N,” he says firmly.

“Just for one night,” you say, taking in a deep breath. “You can leave when I fall asleep,” you surrendered, eyes wavering waiting for his answer. “Please,” you beg.

“Y/N.. Baby I can’t,” it was the first time he called you that in a while and your heart breaks once more. He stopped calling you that and started calling you by name for months now. How is it that you never noticed until now.

“I’ll let you go when I fall asleep.. Please..Just love me one last time, Felix.”

Felix contemplated. He stared at you. Your glossy eyes. Your runny nose. Your red cheeks. He watches your chest rises up and down as you tried to control yourself. He hates seeing you cry, he hates seeing you hurt. It breaks him. He gives in. “Okay.”

He has you on pulled up flushed on him on your shared bed, your legs tangled with his. Your face pressed again his chest as one of his hand is wrapped around your waist and the other traces nothings up and down your back. Your tears haven’t stop, they fall effortlessly out of your eyes on his shirt. You stay quiet. You want to talk. You have so many questions to ask. So many things you want to know. But you stay quiet because you know Felix won’t answer you. So instead you stare into nothing as you replay back your happiest memories with Felix. You can’t help the small smile that is pulled on your face as you remember everything, every detail of everyday with him.

You tried you best to stay awake but you feel your eye lids closing. You don’t want to give in to sleep because you know by the time you wake up, he’ll be gone. But you’re exhausted, both your body and mind.

Felix stares up at the ceiling. He’s guilty. He owes you a reason, he owes you answers but he keeps quiet. He replays back memories but he doesn’t have the same reaction as you. He doesn’t smile. He cries instead. Tears run down his face as you recalls the soft and sweet memories with you. How could he do this to you? How could he make you fall in love with him then walk out like this? How could he say he was no longer in love with you?

Felix doesn’t hear your sniffles anymore. He feels your breathing evens out with his body. You had fallen asleep in his arms.

Felix presses a kiss to your temple, his arm still holding your waist tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

#becomingmina #stray kids #skz #Lee Felix #Yongbok #Felix angst #stray kids imagine #Felix x reader #skz angst #Felix imagines #skz imagine #Yongbok angst #hyunjin #chan