#Why is my iphone so slow

[epsilontauri]

hold up you know what i’m mad as hell.

[bluastro-yellow]

I never want an apple phone ever again but I'm feeling genuine affection for my phone. it's my little darling. my tiny friend. my trusted companion

poor thing, it's not its fault apple has a horribly closed ecosystem

[solarpixie99]

.

[sstarlostt]

um, yeah, surprise! i want the z flip 4 so badly, its not even want at this point,, now you might be like "hey, the biggest part of the skz slbs thing is with the 5, youve waited this long, why not just get that?" and while i completely understand that way of thinking i just think i like the 4 more, like just the big cover display is off putting to me, it seems like too much, AND the 4 has skzoo cases so who really wins here (and i also already order the puppym case even though its not definite that im getting the 4 yet so i am locked into my decision)

[sunrizef1]

Lost in Japan

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

Warnings: None, cursing

Authors Note: I was almost done with a max fic and this song overtook my mind until I finished this. Also trust, I will be using bear as a nickname for Oscar in every fic from now on.

Summary: Lost in Japan by Shawn Mendes

Word Count: 5.1k (this was supposed to be short)

Oscar was bored. Lando was off celebrating a successful weekend somewhere out in the city of Shanghai while Oscar was sat alone in his hotel room waiting for the flight McLaren has organized to get him back to England. He hadn’t won. He hadn’t even gotten a podium. So there wasn’t much for him to be exactly thrilled about. So instead, he was just scrolling through his phone, checking various social media apps before he finally landed on Instagram.

He clicked on the first Instagram story at the top of his page, which happened to be Lando’s. He ignored the pictures of him celebrating at some party, tapping through the various shots of him getting more and more inebriated. He was with Max and Charles at the party so Oscar wasn’t too concerned. He clicks through a few more people stories before landing on a specific one that makes him slow down.

Oscar stares at his phone screen, eyes glazing over your Instagram story. He’s clicking through passively, pausing as he gets to one of you at dinner the night before. He lets it play out but quickly clicks back when he notices the Tokyo, Japan tag that you’ve placed near the top of the screen.

As Oscar stares at the picture, trying to take in every detail, he’s struck by an idea. He clicks out of the app, opens up his messages and navigates to your contact, already standing up from his hotel room bed to grab his already packed suitcase.

It didn’t look like he’d be using that plane ticket back to England after all. He clicks the call button under your name, holding the phone between his shoulder and his cheek as he grabs his things, exiting the room after he slides his backpack on.

The phone rings for a bit too long, making Oscar slightly worried that you wouldn’t pick up but it does eventually connect and Oscar is met with the sound of your voice filtering through the phone speaker. The door shuts with a soft click behind the Aussie as he steps into the hallway.

“Hello, Oscar,” you hum through the phone. Oscar can practically hear the smirk on your lips even through the low quality iPhone speaker.

Oscar huffs a laugh at your tone, dragging his suitcase behind him as he walks down the hall, “Hi, y/n.”

"What can I do for you?” you ask and Oscar can hear shuffling from your end of the call. As the words leave your lips, he reaches the elevator, tapping the button on the wall to call it to his floor.

“Do you have plans tonight?” Oscar reaches the point quickly, trapping the phone back between his shoulder and ear as the elevator opens and he steps in, tapping the lobby button.

You pause for a second, proccessing the question and contemplating your answer, “Besides falling asleep in a few hours? Nope.”

Oscar hums, pulling the phone into his hands and typing impatiently into google as you speak. He finds the soonest, and nicest, flight to Japan he could, purchasing the ticket without a second thought.

“Why?”

Oscar freezes for a moment, looking up from the ticket he'd just bought to narrow his eyes at the elevator door, “I saw you're in Japan-”

“Oh, so you're stalking me now?” Oscar rolls his eyes as you laugh through your question, painting the image of your grinning face in the Aussies mind.

“Shut up, no, anyway-,” Oscar sighs, dragging his suitcase out of the elevator as it reaches the lobby, “Im in Shanghai, I thought I'd fly over to see you.”

Your silence on the other end of the line is deafening. Oscar even checks to make sure the call is still connected due to how quiet you were. Taking your lack of response as a bad sign, Oscar starts to ramble, hoping to do a bit of damage control, “Just because I'm only a couple hundred miles away and the race is over and I'm bored. Its just been so long since we were so close, especially during the season and I miss y-”

“When does your flight leave?”

Oscar, who’d frozen on the sidewalk outside the hotel, unfreezes to gesture for a taxi. It was only a five-minute drive to the airport from the place Mclaren had been staying so he hoped this wouldn't take too long. He mutes for a moment to tell the driver to take him to the airport. The driver nods, pulling away from the curb.

“Uhhhh-” Oscar navigates through his phone to check his flight details as he sits back in his seat, “Half an hour?”

“Ooh, you better hurry then,” You hum, a playful tone laced through your words, “Dont want to miss it.”

Oscar laughs happily, just glad to hear you joking along. He does find some reality in your words though, doing the math to see if he even had enough time to make his flight. He was honestly running on hopes and prayers at this point.

“What made you suddenly so inclined to fly to Japan on a random Sunday?” Your voice pulls Oscar out of his thoughts and he pauses, smiling abashedly as the answer comes to his head.

“Just can't get you off my mind.”

Oscar can’t see you. But if he could, he'd see a warm smile carved onto your face due to the warmth his statement had caused.

“I don't know Osc, I'm actually pretty tired. Might just head to bed,” Oscar rolls his eyes as you try and stifle your giggle.

“Do I need to convince you to stay awake, then?”

You huff a laugh, humming in affirmation, “I’d love to hear it.”

“Well,” Oscar starts, racking his mind for some suggestions of what to say to get you to agree to this, “You don't miss me?”

“I never said that,” You reply quickly. Oscar raises an eyebrow, head falling back against the seat as he trys not to groan.

“So you do miss me?”

You hum quietly, the sound almost too low for Oscar to hear it through the phone, “Maybe a little bit.”

The Aussie chuckles, “I thought so.”

“Can you blame me? It's been a while. I miss my favourite koala bear,” Oscar gets the sense that the words were meant to come out teasing but he can't help but notice how genuine they sound. He laughs nonetheless.

He's about to respond when the cab comes to a sudden stop and he looks out the window to see the airport in front of him.

“Shit, I'm here.”

Oscar swings his backpack onto his shoulders, rifling through a pocket to find enough cash to hand to the driver, not really considering an exact amount and, instead, just asking the driver if that was enough. When the driver tries to hand change back, Oscar leans away, grasping the door handle to swing the door open to get out. He grabs his suitcase as well, leaning down to shout back into the car.

“Keep the change, thanks mate!” Oscar shuts the door, dragging his suitcase behind him as the cab drives away.

“Such a gentleman, I take it you're at the airport now?” you tease him, a genuine questioning tilt laced in your words.

Oscar nods before remembering you can't see him, “Yeah, just got out of the car.”

Oscar rushes through the large door, holding it open for an older woman to walk through before he steps in past her. He glances around the room, trying to find airport security so he could get to his gate.

“You gonna make your flight?” you seem to be finding a lot of amusement in his frantic rushing.

Oscar huffs, pinning his phone between his cheek and shoulder to check his watch. He still had about twenty-five minutes to get to his plane.

“Twenty minutes,” he responds, walking quickly down the hall when he spots a sign directing him that way.

“Ooh! Ah, I have faith in you. If you're anywhere near as fast as you are on the track I'm sure you'll be fine.”

Oscars eyes trail over the hall, locking onto the security gates and causing him to walk a little quicker, “You watch the race today?”

You don't respond for a few minutes but when you do, your voice is a lot more calm than it had been a few moments before, “Mhm. You did good Os.”

Oscar lets out a sigh, shaking his head as a grin fights its way into his lips, “Thanks, I'm glad you think so.”

Oscar steps into the security line, grateful for the fact that there are only a few people in front of him. He ignores the weird glance the old lady in front of him sends his way as he rushes to a stop behind her, replying with a tight smile.

“Its not just me, Osc,” you reply, sensing his disdain for the days race through the phone, “Everyone thinks you did well.”

Oscar hums, stepping up a few steps as a couple of people pass through, leaving just the old lady in front of him. As he reaches the bag scanners, he pins his phone on his shoulder again to lift his bag up onto the conveyor belt, tossing his bag down beside it.

“One second,” Oscar responds, muting his phone to drop it into a bowl along with his airpods, sending them through along with his bags.

After he's put all his things on the belt, he steps away, walking through the metal detector when the agent signals for him to go.

It takes a few moments for the agents to check his bags but when they come through he pulls the suitcase off and sets it beside him, turning back to slide his backpack over his shoulders. He slides his AirPods into his hoodie pocket and picks up his phone, unmuting the call before walking away, his suitcase in tow.

“Im back,” Oscar clicks away from the call for a few seconds to check his flight details before putting the phone back to his ear.

“Did I just get sent through a security scanner?” you sound amused and Oscar can practically see your smirk just from the tone of your voice.

“Didnt want to hang up,” he grumbles, searching the signs above him for his gate, walking quickly when he spots it. A clock on the wall indicates that he's still got 15 minutes to get to his flight. He thinks about it for a few moments, quickly realizing that it was 15 minutes until scheduled takeoff and boarding would actually end in five minutes.

“Im honored-”

“Fuck!” Oscar cuts you off, too busy now sprinting down the airport corridor to think about that fact, “Shit! I'm gonna miss it!”

You don't respond for a few seconds but you eventually do, a loud laugh echoing from your throat as you take in his situation.

“Oh my god, are you late for boarding? Osc!” you laugh, the image of the driver sprinting down the hall engrained in your head.

He doesn't reply, the phone now down near his hip as he runs to his gate. The run feels like an hour but, in reality, was only actually a few minutes, the clocks on the walls ticking down as if mocking the Aussies poor planning.

He finds some kind of respite, though, as he finally gets to the gate, slowing down as he steps up to the gate agent. The lady seems surprised to see him run up but she doesn't turn away, instead glancing him up and down with a concerned look before responding.

“Hi! Do you have your ticket?” the woman is surprisingly kind about the question, especially considering she had been preparing to leave as he'd rocked up.

Oscar nods, still trying to catch his breath. He pulls his phone open to navigate to the ticket, facing the QR code forward for the agent to scan. She does so before nodding politely and leading him down the path toward the plane.

Oscar lets out a sight of relief and lifts the phone back up to his face, “I made it.”

Your laugh has calmed down but you snort at his almost war-torn sounding voice, his strife obvious due to his lack of breath, “Congrats, man.”

He gets lead onto the plane, thanking the woman who'd brought him and smiling at the flight attendants as he walks a few steps past them. He finds his seat, dropping his phone onto it to lift his phone and stow it away in the overhead bin. He grabs his phone and sits down, relaxing into the seat after setting his backpack on the ground.

“I’ll be in Japan in a few hours,” He says, running hand over his face, “See you there, yeah?”

You hum, “See you there, bear.”

Oscar ignores the nickname, pretending it didn't make him smile, “Im gonna hang up now, promise you won't be asleep when I land?”

You laugh, “I promise, Oscar. I'll even go get a red bull for some extra energ-”

“Yeah, nope. Goodbye.” Oscar interrupts before you can endorse the rival team.

“Bye koala bear,” you respond and the phone clicks softly as you hang up. Oscar sets the phone down to pull his airpods out of his pocket, connecting them in order to watch some movie for the flight.

The flights only a few hours long but it feels a lot longer than that to Oscar. It's a haze of random Netflix shows and bagged pretzels, the monotony of the flight boring Oscar out of his mind.

He's relieved when the plane touches down, his proximity to the front of the plane allowing him to stand up and grab his things fairly quickly. Its about 9 pm local time, the sky outside not shedding any light through the plane windows.

Oscar walks out into the airport, grateful to be off the cramped plane and finally move his legs again. He stops at one of the few shops still open to buy an overpriced bottle of water, pausing as he spots a bag of those haribo peach rings you like so much. He doesn't think much as he grabs the bag, throwing it onto the counter beside his bottle and offering the cashier a polite smile.

After paying, he grabs the bottle and the bag, grasping them in the same hand as he pulls his suitcase along with the other one.

He strolls through the airport, trying to rid himself of the fatigue from the race and the plane ride. The only thing keeping him from falling asleep was the thought of seeing you again.

Speaking of you, Oscar doesn't realize he has no idea where you were staying or where you were until he's stepped out of the airport doors, standing on the sidewalk with his suitcase sat next to him. He tries to recall if you'd told him anything about your Japan trip or even if he'd seen anything on your story but he comes up empty.

He clicks on your contact, pressing the phone to his ear as the call rings. He frowns as you decline, confused as to why you'd hang up.

He's just about to walk back inside to wait when a car horn honks, causing Oscar to look up in front of him.

His eyes widen as they lock onto an orange Mclaren 570s Coupe, the car shining beautifully under the street lights. As he stands and admires the car ahead of him, the window closest to him rolls down and he sees your head duck down to lock eyes with him.

“You getting in?”

He laughs incredulously, opening the passenger side door and carefully sliding his suitcase into the small storage space behind the seats.

He sets his backpack on the floor below him, flopping back into the sear and sliding his seatbelt on. He sets his water down and tosses the bag of peach rings into your lap, “Nice car.”

“Thanks,” you reply brightly, eyes widening as you observe the bag of candy before moving it into your hoodie pocket, “Thought id go all out with the rental for the few days I'm here.”

Oscar hums, glancing around the nice car, coincidentally a Papaya McLaren. He refused the urge to ask you if you'd been thinking of him when you'd picked the vehicle.

After you make sure his seatbelts on, you pull away from the airport terminal and navigate onto the main road, pressing play on your playlist to let music filter quietly through the speakers.

The car glides smoothly down the streets of Tokyo, bright lights reflecting off the sides of your face. Oscar looks your way, completely aware that your attention was locked on the road, giving him the free pass to admire you.

Your eyes dart around the road in front of you, neon lights reflected in your irises. Your teeth dig at your lower lip, chewing lightly as turn the car. You’ve got one hand on the wheel, the other one moving around between the center console and the fraying edge of your shorts. You're wearing a quadrant hoodie and Oscar can't tell if its his or if you both just owned the same hoodie. The fit didn't help, he knew you bought your hoodies oversized anyway.

You glance over as you come to a stop at a red light, grinning when you see his eyes on you.

“What?” You ask, laughing slightly as you lean back from the wheel, splitting your attention between the road and Oscars face.

Oscar shakes his head with a small smile, his own attention turning out the window as you drive through the green light.

“Have you eaten?”

Oscar shakes his head, “Nah.”

You nod, taking the next turn to pull into a parking lot, stopping the car after you find a spot. You step out and Oscar takes this as his cue to get out as well, shutting the car door gently behind him.

When Oscar gets around the car, he finds you leaning against the edge, your feet crossed as you wait for him. He steps to your side and you push off the car, the familiar beep of it locking ringing out as you walk away.

As you both walk toward the restaurant, you step into Oscar's side and he’s quick to swing an arm over your shoulder. You wrap an arm around his torso, reaching the other up to tangle your fingers with his.

He's only slightly disappointed when you have to drop his hand in order to open the door. But you keep your hand against his ribs and he keeps his arm around your shoulders, not ready to let you go yet.

The second his feet pass the threshold of the building, he's hit with some of the most delicious scents he'd smelled in his life. This late at night there isn't much action apart from a few stragglers who Oscar assumes had just gotten off work and needed a bite to eat.

An older man swings around the corner from the kitchen, faint food stains gracing his otherwise white apron. He has a huge grin on his face and it only increases when he sees you. He pushes his glasses up on his nose, wiping off the steam that had accumulated on the lenses.

“Ah! You're back again!” The man calls out to the pair of you. Although his words do make Oscar assume the man was mostly talking to you, “And you brought your boyfriend!”

You don't correct the man and after seeing the grin on your face, Oscar doesn't either.

“Yeah, he just got in from Shanghai. Haven't had dinner yet.”

“Go, go,” the man smiles, pointing toward the dining room, “Sit where you want, ill get to you in a second.”

The man waves you both toward the tables and you step out of Oscar’s grasp. He doesn't have to be disappointed for long as you wrap your hand in his to lead him through the restaurant, stopping at a booth before sliding in. Oscar slides in the seat opposite of you, his legs knocking against yours under the table.

Quickly, the man, who Oscar now assumes is the owner, comes over to the table, setting down two glasses of water and a pair of menus in front of the both of you.

“You know what you want?” The man grins as he gestures toward you, seemingly familiar to you. Oscar takes a sip of his water, letting the coop liquid run down his throat.

You nod happily, “Yeah, I think so.”

The man pulls out a small notebook to write down whatever you say and you continue by saying a few different dishes, the only one Oscar having had before being sushi. He doesn't say anything, knowing that you knew more about this place and the menu than he did.

After you're done ordering, the man walks away and strolls into the kitchen, handing the order to the woman behind the counter before placing a small kiss on her cheek.

Oscar looks back to you, a small smile on his face after seeing the couple who seemed to be running the restaurant themselves, “You’ve been here before, then?”

You nod, leaning over to take a sip from your glass, “Yeah, came here yesterday for lunch.”

Oscar hums, glancing out of the booth to look around the room. Paintings and neon signs decorate the walls and what seems to be photographs taken in the restaurant all line the wall by the entrance. Oscar can vaguely see that the photos of are different people posing, all with happy looks on their faces. He huffs a breathy laugh when he sees one of you with your friends.

The time spent waiting for your food is filled with casual conversation, Oscar asking a lot of questions about how your Tokyo trip had been so far.

You don't ask about the race. There's some kind of unspoken understanding that Oscar had run to Japan to get away from racing for once. Here, with you, Oscar wasn't Mclaren racing driver, Oscar Piastri, he was just Oscar. Or “Bear”, as you called him. A nickname that you seemed unable to let go of. Oscar pretended to be annoyed every time you said it but he couldn't deny the smile that formed every time he heard the Australia-themed moniker.

“Bear?” There it is. Oscar looks up with a raised eyebrow, deducing that you'd asked a question he hadn't answered.

“I asked if you're staying with me tonight.”

Oscar snorts before smirking, shaking his head as he locks eyes with you, “Yeah, wouldn't dream of being anywhere else.”

You blush, looking down toward the table, past meals having left vague food stains on the wood.

Before you can respond, the man returns, plates and bowls balancing in his hands. You look up politely, smiling as the man starts to place the food on the table, “Thank you so much.”

The man grins as he places down the last plate, “Of course. Enjoy.”

He walks away and you turn toward Oscar who stares vaguely at the food in front of him, “Dig in.”

You make a move for your chopsticks, looking over the food before taking a bite of whatever is immediately in front of you. Oscar glances around, not sure where to start.

Noticing his hesitancy, you pick up a piece of what you'd been eating and bring it up toward his lips, pulling back after Oscar bites into it.

“What is this?” Oscar asks as he chews, covering his mouth as he speaks. Whatever it is, it's pretty good, having a light and slightly sweet flavour. Its also a bit more rubbery than chicken, but its pretty good nonetheless.

You swallow your own bite, having scooped up some rice along with it, “Unagi. Grilled eel.”

The only indication of Oscar's surprise is his widened eyes but after a few seconds, he reaches over to take another bite, humming as he chews on the eel. You smile, moving on to grab some kind of skewer.

You slowly move through the foods, explaining each one to Oscar as he tries them.

They're all good but Oscar's favourite is the yakitori, the skewers of grilled chicken. By the time you've finished the food on the table, Oscar is about ready to pass out.

So you pay as soon as you can, Oscar grumbling about his inability to pay for the meal, lacking the proper currency. He does Venmo you when you put your phone down, though.

The owner makes playful conversation with you, thanking you for coming around and telling you you're welcome back anytime. Oscar just stands with his head on top of yours, trying not to fall asleep.

You're about to leave when the man calls you back and you turn around to see him holding a camera in his hands, “For the wall? Need to remember the happy couple.”

You laugh, glancing around to see the many many photos of various friend groups on the wall behind you, turning back around with a soft look as you nod. You lean into Oscar who wraps an arm around you, tilting his head toward you. You tangle your hand with the one on your shoulder, holding up a peace sign with your other one.

The familiar click of a camera sounds and the man smiles warmly, waving you both out the door, “Have a great time! Thank you for coming!”

You wave goodbye, stepping out of the restaurant and pulling out your keys to unlock the car. Oscar untangles from you to walk to the passenger's side and step in. You drop in as well, setting your phone down in the centre console. Oscar is staring out the window when he feels something drop in his lap and he glances down to see the bag of peach rings he'd bought you.

“Can you open that?” You ask, starting the car and putting it in reverse. You glance over your shoulder as you pull backward, one arm behind Oscars seat and the other on the wheel.

Oscar, at risk of getting caught staring, turns his attention to the candy, ripping the edge and grabbing a few pieces to throw in his mouth.

Once you've got onto the main road, you hold out a hand and Oscar drops a couple pieces which you proceed to eat.

The drive is quiet, the both of you feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up to you. You eventually pull up to the hotel, stopping the car and stepping out. Not before grabbing more candy from Oscar, though.

Oscar leans over to grab his suitcase, stepping out of the car and sliding his backpack on. He grabs his water bottle from the airport, stuffing it into the bottle compartment on the side of the bag. He looks up and starts walking, stepping by your side as you enter the hotel. You stroll through the lobby, leading both of you to the elevator.

As the elevator starts moving up, you both lean against the wall, letting the quiet music be the only sound beside a couple yawns.

The elevator dings as it passes each floor. Oscar watches as you dig your key card out of your pocket, running your fingers along the edge absently.

The doors slide open, leading you to walk out, Oscar in tow. You drift down the hall, humming along to whatever song was playing in your head. Oscar vaguely recognizes it as Taylor Swift.

When you reach your room, you scan your card and push the door open, holding it to let Oscar pass through.

He does, pushing his suitcase next to the far side of the bed. He can hear you setting your things down, the familiar clink of keys on glass ringing out in the otherwise quiet room.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” he says lowly, sliding past you and into the attached bathroom. He can hear you hum in affirmation just before he shuts the door.

When he emerges, you're sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off your shoes before tossing them on the floor. You’ve taken off your hoodie (or Oscars) and its not lain over the chair across the room.

You glance up, smiling as you see the Aussie walk out, “Hi.”

Oscar huffs amusedly, sliding off his own shoes as he walks toward you, “Hi.”

You hum, looking up as he walks closer to you before leaning slightly to angle his face toward yours. You both pause for a few moments, waiting to see who'd break the stand-off first.

It ends up being you, as you pull his face down towards yours, your kiss almost searing. The kiss feels like it lasts a lifetime and Oscar almost wishes it could. He does pull away, though, just to move you away from the edge of the bed, smiling when he hears your laugh ring out after he's practically tossed you onto the mattress.

He moves up as well and before he can even get his bearings, you're pulling him back down again, hands in his hair and your lips on his.

The next morning, Oscars awoken by the sound of your quiet laugh. He rolls over with a tired groan, wrapping his other arm around your torso.

“What are you laughing at?” he grumbles, tiredness clear in his voice.

You turn to face him, looking impossibly beautiful for having just woken up. You hold your phone toward him and Oscar glances down at the screen before looking back up at your face with a questioning glance.

“Lando sent me a video this morning,” you start, closing your phone and tossing it aside to grasp his tired face between your hands, “Its quite funny.”

“What was it?” Oscar mumbles, leaning to press a small kiss on your forehead.

You lean back, looking him in the eyes and seemingly trying to hide your smirk, “It's a video of his teammate sprinting through the Shanghai airport.”

Oscar groans, trying to ignore your warm laugh, “Fuck.”

He's not really mad, not when the video was the source of your happiness right now.

There were a lot worse sights to wake up to than your happy face beside him.

——————————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

[darnell-la]

𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗦 𝗔 𝗕𝗜𝗚 𝗗𝗢𝗚

pairing: the worst!logan howlett x younger generation!reader

warnings: Logan easing into the new world and generation, mention of Wade trying to get roommate!reader and Logan together, making a TikTok, sniffing, smut, etc.

note: “she don’t want no puppy! She wanna BIG dawg!”

———

Logan had thought living with Wade would be a bad idea. He belonged in his last universe with what he’s done. He brought himself down for years, mentally and physically, hoping the pain would stop. Thankfully, it finally had.

It’s been almost a year since Logan has lived with Wade and his younger roommate. The match seemed off when he first met her, but after the first hour, she knew why she and Wade were close friends.

The girl was in college, young, pretty, had a small job at the campus, and loved parties, and things that Wade did daily.

Logan had a small argument with y/n a couple of weeks ago after she gifted him an iPhone. She said he needed it to keep in touch with her and Wade. She also said he needed a bit of humor.

He had no idea what that meant until she made a TikTok for the man. The videos that came up on his page didn’t make sense to him, he he still laughed at them.

He had no idea what happened to himself, but sending memes to y/n every hour was a habit.

After sending y/n a TikTok video, he swiped and came across a sound that confused him.

The man in the video was lip-syncing a song as she showed his muscles. Logan gave a disgusting look at his phone, thinking the man looked ridiculous until he read the title.

“When she chose you because you’re height starts with a six and your weight starts with a two”

Logan sent the video to y/n, asking her what he meant by that. He didn’t know being a muscle-tall man was a trend.

“Logan, I’m in the room next to you, just come here!” Y/n shouted in her room, making him sigh loudly as he got off of the couch for the first time in what felt like days.

“I just wanted to know what he meant? Like is being big and tall a trend? Like, if that’s the case, then I’d be viral,” Logan used words that y/n and Wade ran him by.

“God, Logan — Do people your age question everything?” Y/n checked her phone and noticed what trend he sent her. She’s thought about this trend but with Logan in it. He fits it perfectly, but Wade would tease her if she’d ever brought it up.

“I’m just askin', Bub. Seemed stupid to me,” Logan shrugged his shoulders. “Because you haven’t tried it,” y/n defended her generation. “So, you’re into that stuff? God, y/n — Never knew you’d be one of those kids,”

“I do like it, and since you’re so boring, we’re gonna have you do it, so c’mere,” y/n stood up from her bed and placed her phone down on her desk after clicking the sound.

“Gotta take your shirt off for it,” y/n lied, but she knew he’d do it, even if he complained. “No fuckin’ way, bub,” Logan laughed as he turned around to go back to his sofa until she grabbed his arm softly.

“Please! You never do TikTok’s with me,” y/n fake cried, annoying him in an instant. “Ain’t takin’ my shirt off for no little girls online. I’d get, what’s it called? Canceled?” Logan said, making her laugh.

“Logan, you sound stupid as fuck. Take off the shirt — Unless you’re jealous they look better than you,” y/n shrugged her shoulders as she went back to her bed to sit down, acting like she didn’t care to get a reaction out of him.

“Bub, you know I look better than them, so stop the lyin,” Logan felt a bit upset at her words. Y/n ignored him for what felt like hours, so he sighed and gave up. “Swear to god, I’d Wade say some shit about this, I’ll kill him,”

Logan and y/n worked on the TikTok for an half hour, trying to get the right angle since he kept saying he didn’t look good enough.

Y/n never complained. Watching him walk through her door repeatedly, then editing the video in slow motion, made her stomach tingle.

At first, Logan felt uncomfortable. She could smell the young lady, but he didn’t want to say anything. He’d be a pervert if he did, so he kept quiet, thinking it would go away, but he knew her spot grew bigger.

“So, you think I’m a big dog?” Logan genuinely asked as y/n began to edit the TikTok video. “What makes you think that?” She asked; thinking she nailed her scared response, but Logan saw the quick stutter in her fingers as she typed on her phone.

“Just askin, bub,” Logan said before taking a small sniff. He was leaning on her doorway as she sat on her bed. He was so far., yet she smelt so close.

He cussed himself out in his head, upset that Wade had won this “you’ll like her eventually” argument. Logan swore she was too young, and even made her feel a bit bad.

He had thought y/n had moved on, maybe got over the thought of her having a chance with Wade’s new friend, but the smell she had, is making him go insane.

All she’s doing is making a TikTok. That’s it, but he can’t stop thinking about the spot she’s soaking in her panties. He felt nasty, but in a good way after a while. The lust was taking him over.

“You happy you’ve got your little video?” Logan asked as he kicked off of her dorm frame and walked towards her bed to sit next to her.

“Yes, finally,” she smiled at him before continuing her edit. Logan scanned the girl's body slowly, watching how spotty her breathing was, seeing goosebumps form on her arms, and watching her leg shake a bit.

“Is that so?” He asked as he placed his hand on her thigh. She’s always been a sweet bean to him, but he ignored it. He tried his best to prove Wade wrong, but she was hard to ignore, and Wade knew that. Wade knew y/n would bring something out in the grumpy old man.

“Mhm hm,” Y/n mumbled as she pushed the post on her phone. “Think it’ll get a lot of likes,” she looked to the side at Logan who was now closer than she thought.

“And why is that? I look good?” He asked her, eyes on her soft and pretty lips. “Uh, yeah — Think the viewers will like it,” she awkwardly smiled, feeling her heart raise.

“Think you liked it more than the viewers will,” Logan almost whispered. Y/n just noticed how his shirt was still off. Why was his shirt still off?

“Seen you repost that video, y/n. You’re not slick,” Logan spoke about the video he had sent her. “Think you were thinkin’ about me when you did it,” the man smirked.

“I- I was just reposting,” Y/n stuttered as his hand slowly cupped her chin. “Guess I’m not the big dog you’re lookin’ for them,” Logan faked sighing as he pulled his hand back.

Before he could turn around to get up, y/n grabbed his face and pulled him into a short but long kiss, hoping to get the best out of this one-time thing.

“Told you last you, you ain’t for me, baby,” Logan said, making y/n look down in embarrassment. “I know,” she said. “I lied — Was just goin’ through a little somethin,” Logan admitted before pulling her back into a kiss, this time rough.

Y/n gasped as he breathed into her mouth, sucking on her lips like he’d starved for days. “Lo,” y/n moaned low at the feeling of his pulling her into his rough kisses.

Logan decided to push Y/n down on her bed and lean over her, keeping their lips together. Y/n instantly wrapped her legs around the man, pulling him closer as he moved his hips, grinding on her to feel the pressure.

“Oh, fuck,” Logan groaned in between their kiss, feeling his cock leak already. “If I fuck you, Wade wins,” Logan pulled back from the girl, taking a look into her eyes. She thought the man would leave, get off of her and never speak to her again, until he assured her, he was staying.

“Fuck it — Can’t resist you anymore, baby,” Logan smashed his lips back onto the young lady's lips, kissing her roughly as he tugged on his jeans. All y/n had to do was pull up the gown she wore almost every day she was off of work when she was too lazy to dress up.

“Wait- We need a condom,” y/n leaned up, but Logan pushed her back down. “Oh, no we don’t. Your cunts leaking too much for me to not feel her,” Logan said. She was confused, not knowing how he knew she was wet until she thought to herself.

He’s a mutant. His only powers can’t be regeneration and speed.

“Fuck, I-“ y/n cut herself off, embarrassed at her pervy actions. He probably smells her all the time. “Caught red-handed,” Logan chuckled as he put his cock in hand.

“Always wet around the house. Teasin�� me and basically beggin’ for me every day. Wished I took you to my room when I first met you. Maybe by now, we’d have our little family,”

Logan pushed into the girl, giving her no time to think about what he had just said about a family.

She’s never thought of a family with Logan. It’s not he wasn’t father material, it’s the fact she’s only been thinking about him pleasing her, and pleasing her only.

“Fuck, that’s it,”

[wtfsteveharrington]

after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.

contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn

reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!

word count: basically 3.9k

author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that

part two

★–————————–

Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors. 

“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?” 

Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago. 

“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off. 

“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.” 

He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there. 

Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?” 

“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.

Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.” 

And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him. 

———★–————————–

Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused. 

He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief. 

You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out? 

So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least. 

He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.

And there you are. 

Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off. 

“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”

Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.” 

Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too. 

His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream. 

Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him? 

Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess. 

Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone. 

Oh he’s so fucked. 

————–——★–————

Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.” 

He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late. 

Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work. 

He had to. 

Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen. 

You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?” 

You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.” 

Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.” 

And you laugh. 

You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions. 

“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now. 

And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today. 

He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems. 

It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg. 

And he stops looking there. 

Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them. 

Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away. 

God he just knows you’re a needy little thing. 

He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss. 

“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again. 

You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen. 

“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes. 

His cheeks are hot. 

Fuck is he blushing? 

He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot

You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you. 

Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you. 

Okay fine, it is. 

“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground. 

———————–★–———

Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop. 

So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor. 

He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up. 

The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different. 

“You good, Chef?” 

To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat. 

“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.” 

You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?” 

“Anything, Chef.” 

Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.” 

He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders. 

Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back. 

Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious. 

When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief? 

“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.” 

He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.” 

Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor. 

——————————★–

Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you. 

But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him. 

You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well. 

He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video. 

Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.

[tellingtell5]

What we do in the shadows 《Remmick, sinners x reader 》

A/N: I was watching What We Do in the Shadows and this idea popped into my head. I had so much fun writing it. I mean, I love dominant Remmick, I love pathetic Remmick… But what about Remmick just trying to survive the 21st century with his familiar—who also happens to be the reincarnation of his human lover??

Remmick x Reader

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You (looking into camera, clearly exhausted):

I’m his familiar. I take care of everything. I clean. I shop. I deal with the dead raccoons in the attic.

(sighs)

And eventually... he promised I’ll be turned.

(pause)

He said that… like, six reincarnations ago

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CAMERA ON: You and Remmick mid-argument. Remmick is holding an iPhone with two fingers, like it might explode. You’re pacing.

YOU Okay—just press the little circle. That’s the Home button.

REMMICK (overlapping, frowning at phone) It does nothing. I press the circle and it mocks me.

YOU You’re not pressing it, you’re tapping it. Like it’s a cursed talisman.

REMMICK Because maybe it is. (gestures at screen) It knows where I am. It calls me by name. With the voice of a seductive ghost.

YOU That’s Siri.

REMMICK She’s haunting me.

YOU She’s an AI.

REMMICK She’s a spy. I heard her speak in tongues at 3:17 a.m.

YOU That was a Dua Lipa remix.

REMMICK (genuinely lost) I don’t know what that means!!

Beat. You both stare at each other, breathing heavily. You break eye contact first and turn toward the Alexa Dot.

YOU (dryly) Alexa, play The Rocky Road to Dublin.

ALEXA (cheerfully) Playing The Rocky Road to Dublin on Spotify.

Traditional Irish music starts playing. You walk off screen.

YOU (to camera as you pass) She listens better than he does.

CUT TO: REMMICK ALONE

Remmick crouches slowly in front of the Alexa Dot. The camera zooms in as he lowers his voice to a near-whisper.

REMMICK (serious, reverent)Excuse me... ma’am... would you play Sammy Moore... for me?

Alexa continues playing. No reaction. Remmick stares. Beat.

REMMICK (wounded) She ignores me. (quietly) Just like the Baroness of Aljezur.

TALKING HEAD – REMMICK

Remmick sits in a dimly lit armchair, holding the iPhone upside down.

REMMICK Technology is a cruel mistress. (beat) She lures you in with soft glows… and then betrays you with updates. (beat) Also, she keeps asking me to “enable location services.” I will never.

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CAMERA ON: You. Blocking Remmick’s path.

You're standing directly in front of the coat rack he keeps mistaking for a Prussian war general. Arms crossed. Jaw set. He tries to step left. You step left. Right. You follow.

YOU (flatly) You said you’d turn me last spring. Then you said autumn. Now you’re saying “after the eclipse.” Which one?

REMMICK (calmly, without blinking) The eternal one. (beat) Also the total lunar eclipse of 2033. That one’s more feasible.

CAMERA ZOOMS in slowly as neither of you breaks eye contact. Off-screen: a loud crash in the attic. Probably that raccoon again. You both ignore it.

YOU (tight smile, inhale through nose) Why won’t you do it?

REMMICK (dramatic pause — he lives for them) Because… (he takes a slow step forward) …the moment I turn you… you stop being reborn. (another long beat) And I… lose the joy of falling in love with you again.

Silence. Somewhere, a synth-heavy ballad plays faintly from a Bluetooth speaker no one remembers connecting.

You blink. Your lip does the involuntary quiver it sometimes does when he pulls this “tragic poet” routine. For a second, it lands.

YOU (softly) That’s… really romantic.

Beat.

You nod. Then you lean down, grab the werewolf-stained boot from by the door, and shove it into his chest.

YOU (back to full volume) Still doesn’t excuse making me clean the werewolf piss out of these.

REMMICK (clutching the boot like it’s a holy relic) That werewolf was a duke in 1784.

YOU Cool. He still peed on your Aldo knockoffs.

CUT TO: TALKING HEAD – REMMICK

He’s sitting in a candlelit room next to a taxidermy owl wearing a scarf. The boot sits on his lap.

REMMICK There’s a difference between love and commitment. (beat) Love is eternal. Commitment is… cleaning the boots of my enemies.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

You stare straight at the camera, very serious.

YOU (deadpan): I’ve loved him seventeen times. I died in twelve of those lives. (beat) Honestly, I think that’s romantic.

[CUT TO REMMICK TALKING HEAD]

REMMICK (concerned): Keeps a journal titled "Ways I’ve Died for Him." It's… alphabetical.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

It’s sticky, dimly lit, and absolutely packed with off-duty vampires, familiars, and one zombie in a mesh tank top. The camera crew pans to you, trying to sign Remmick up at the tiny booth, while he stares at a glowing cocktail like it’s a poisoned relic.

You grab the clipboard.

YOU: Okay, you’re doing Total Eclipse of the Heart.

REMMICK (flat, deeply unimpressed): I lived through three actual eclipses. I wept at all of them.

SMASH CUT TO: REMMICK ON STAGE

He’s standing alone under a spotlight, like a man awaiting execution. Mic in hand, face full of dread. The screen flashes the lyrics. He reads them slowly, baffled.

REMMICK (mumbling): “There’s nothing I can do… a total eclipse of the heart…” (beat) What does this mean?

YOU (off-stage, yelling): Just sing it, you eternal drama queen!

He sighs. Looks up at the crowd, then narrows his eyes like he’s about to issue a curse.

REMMICK: Fine. But know this—this song once summoned a demon in Prague.

The synth kicks in.

And then… he sings. You don’t know where it comes from—some deep, haunted well of theatrical agony—but he nails it. The room is silent. Even the vampire in a New Order tee presses a hand to their undead chest.

CUT TO: TALKING HEAD – YOU

You’re holding a plastic cup of neon blue. Eyes wide.

YOU: He actually kind of nailed it. I think two goths in the back started crying.

He said he’d never do karaoke. (pause) He also said the moon told him to burn my AirPods last week. So we’re learning that his boundaries are fluid.

CUT TO: REMMICK – STAGE – FINAL CHORUS

He’s on one knee now, belting “THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DOOOO…” like it’s an ancient curse breaking through his soul.

A single tear rolls down his cheek.

One vampire faints.

You clap. You don’t even know why.

You're proud. And terrified. Mostly both.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

You're pacing dramatically in front of him.

YOU: Why won’t you bite me? Do you not love me this time?

REMMICK (sighs): I do love you. I just... I want you to be sure.

YOU: I was sure in the French Revolution! I was sure during the Viking raids! I was sure when we were both pigeons for that one weird lifetime!

CUT TO: TALKING HEAD – REMMICK: ...the pigeon life was complicated.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

You're scrolling on your phone excitedly.

YOU: Look! It’s me! 1812. “Beloved tailor. Died of love.” That was you. You broke my heart in that life!

REMMICK (gently): You also fell into a river while screaming my name.

YOU: Don’t act like that wasn’t beautiful.

[CUT TO REMMICK TALKING HEAD]

REMMICK: Wants to take a road trip to visit all the graves. I suggested Disney World. But said, “Only if we stop at the 1873 coffin.”

[ddejavvu]

pairing: spencer reid x reader

requested: reader progressively sending more and more raunchy pics to convince spencer to get an iphone (or a phone not from 2003)

summary: you try persuading spencer to get a phone that was made after the turn of the century

cw: explicit content, minors dni. taking/sending nudes

Spencer happens upon them on his own, but it's not like you hadn't wanted him to find them. That's why you'd been so willing to pass your phone over, photos app open when you tell him to hunt for a screenshot you'd taken a week prior.

He's not tech savvy enough to know to search the screenshot folder rather than the more broad photo library, so he ends up scrolling right past several raunchy shots of your bare chest, thumb stuttering in its slow rhythm and grinding to a halt against the screen.

"Uh-" is his giveaway, and you peer coyly over his shoulder, something roiling below your gut at the sight of his rapidly pinkening cheeks.

"Oh, those? I took those the other day," You dismiss, keeping your voice pointedly nonchalant, "There's some of my ass, too, but they're from a couple of weeks ago."

The information you've given him floors him, and he flounders for a moment like a fish out of water. Finally he manages, "Oh. Um, what- what were you going to do with them?"

"Well, send them to you, of course," You grin, but it's through a laugh that you hope doesn't sound too demeaning, "But seeing as your phone can't even use the internet, I didn't really think it'd work."

"I can see photos," He rushes to confirm, but you take your phone back, resuming your hunt for the screenshot yourself.

"But you can't zoom in on them," You shake your head, pouring over the phone screen so that Spencer is only more desperate to get your attention, "And they're live photos, Spence, that'd be wasted on your phone."

"Live photos?"

"They move," You grin devilishly, pointedly lingering over a shot of you modeling one of Spencer's favorite sets of lingerie, "Just get an iPhone and they're all yours, pretty boy."

[iiotic]

─── જ ‎` ‎𓂃 ‎ ticci toby general headcanons

𖦹 ‎ quick disclaimer: the slendermansion doesn't exist in this universe, did i enjoy reading it some years ago? yes, i loved it and i still enjoy reading it from time to time, but would i want to write about it? naah.

english is not my first language, i apologize for any grammar mistakes.

masterlist | nav.

practically isn't homeless but is? he made himself a little apartment in an abandoned butchers house. he has his mini fridge in there, some mattress, pillows and a blanket left behind so he thought, why not make it his?

collects mugs and cds!! even though most of the time he isn't drinking from the mugs nor listening to music 24/7.

whenever his tics get really bad, he likes to listen to the cds he collects, it calms him down.

cannot drive for the life of him.

knows the forest like the back of his hand, knows every shortcut, every trap, where every lake is, where other creeps might be located; like the rake.

the gash on his cheek is fully healed, but it doesn't really look pleasing to the eye. basically there's still a hole in his cheek but the meat around it is healed and sorta dry? i dont know how to describe that.

because of that when he is in public he wears a bandage over his cheek to not scare the shit out of people. its not like he gets weird stares for his tourettes from intolerant people or pity stares from those empathetic ones already, but there's also his favourite type, the normal i don't give a shit one.

is easily irritated by loud chewing, someone breathing though their mouth or slow walkers.

hear me out, his style is something between midwest emo, grunge and a slight touch of fairy core.

loves tim burton movies! doesn't have a favourite.

tries to get his hygene under control, showers at hotels or in the lake as he doesn't have water in his hut. he really doesn't want to stink like one of his fellow individuals *cough cough* jeff.

cannot stand pure black coffee, thinks its disgusting.

wants to learn how to play the guitar but doesn't know where to start.

visits lyras grave at least every two weeks, he misses her deeply.

touch starved, but feels uncomfortable if anyone who isn't really really ckose to him touches him.

sometimes spends his time with tim and brian (he sees them as a father figures, WHO SAID THAT??)

has friend-hatred relationship with jeff.

canonically was in a relationship with clockwork but shit happened and they broke up. i like to think that they broke up 'couse clockwork came out as lesbian and the chemistry between them wasn't chemistrying, yk?

is closer friend with BEN and ej, no questions asked no questions needed.

is heavily manipulated, brainwashed by the operator to kill people.

he's on team samsung, thinks iphones sucks.

© 2024 iiotic. — do not steal, translate or repost any of my content onto any other platform

[muntitled]

more dom!hazel would be so appreciated if u can hehe 🫶🫶

+ another anon who asked for a cleaning bruises fic

𝐁𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬 & 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x fem!reader

Summary: "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?"

Warnings: Established Relationship, Hyper feminine!Reader, PJ as her own warning, Mentions of Bruises, Mentions of Violence, Cleaning Hazel's bruises, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Fighting Kink?, Fingering, Dom!Hazel, Sub!Reader, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Overstimulation

Can be seen as a continuation of this fic but not strictly

Your afternoon had been almost perfect, with Hazel nestled between your open legs just a step lower on the school bleachers. Her head had been thrown back, with her curls running rampant against your skin and tickling your chest. You smoothed her hair down in vain intervals while she played with a loose string on the stitiching of your plaid skirt as she droned on and on about the unlikelihood of being enlisted as a bomb tech by the US Army.

"I don't really know where else I could use my particular set of expertise. What else could I do that won't ultimately lead me down the path of... you know, treason and terrorism?" You nod vaguely as Hazel continues her equal parts aloof and equal parts worrying rants. All while combining your fingers through her hair, "I mean, I just feel like World War III is probably upon us, you know-"

"Ugh, could you guys get a room?" You had been so enamored by Hazel's ranting that you failed to notice PJ at first. Her and Josie made their slow ascent on the bleachers until their shadows blocked your afternoon sun.

"Could you get a girlfriend?" The words had snipped off your tongue with harsh vexation as you instinctively cradled Hazel closer to your chest.

"Jesus-" Hazel had muttered, as she craned her neck up to stare at PJ and a disgruntled Josie, "Why are you trying to hijack my boob time?"

You had to reign in all murderous intentions as PJ grabbed hold of Hazel's forearms and forcibly dragged her up off the bleachers… out of your arms.

"You don't get boob time until we all get boob time. And need I remind you that you're going to be late for Fight Club," You heaved a very loud, very obnoxious sigh as you tilted your head backwards, letting the rays bounce off your pink sunglasses, "You guys should seriously get a room." Said PJ, "Stop giving the entire football team a show. Come on, you're setting us back like 69 years-"

Before PJ sunk her claws into Hazel completely, she bent down until her lips pressed against your cheek, and she whispered, "I'll see you back at my place, yeah?"

Your heart deflated at her confirmation that she was indeed leaving you for Fight Club, "Hazel..."

"Shh, shut up. Just say yes,"

But before you could wrack your brain for something coherent to say, PJ had already begun to make her descent off the bleachers, taking your girlfriend along with her.

You did not hate PJ, nor were you her biggest fan at the best of times. However, nights like tonight made your vexation grow to unimaginable heights simply because PJ is completely and utterly inescapable.

This evening, however, waiting for Hazel to get back from Figh Club, had been perfect. Etta James had been oozing through The Callahan's home speakers as you prepared the butternut soup- Hazel's favourite Post Fight Club recovery meal (although she hated admitting it, because she did not want to put you out of your way).

You are perfectly content, trapped in your web of make-believe as you prance around Hazel's kitchen, assembling your respective bowls needed for the soup. Mrs Callahan had let you in, as she always did after school, with a dismissive wave while she babbled into the receiver of her iPhone. Before she completely disappeared into the innards of her sprawling house, Mrs Callahan vaguely threw over her shoulder "Hazel is at her thing until 5 but I'm sure you've been made aware," and you were left in this great big labyrinth to entertain yourself.

Sex had been even more seldom, given that Hazel was rarely ever in any shape to commence any form of coitus due to the various bruises popping up in unlikely places. You wish you can safely tell yourself you despised seeing her bloody and battered state - that you gain absolutely nothing from Fight Club and that you most likely never will.

But you're staring dreamily into the pot of soup, and you're stirring and stirring, with your heart racing in anticipation of Hazel's inevitable return with her inevitable bruises smeared across her perfect little face.

You had not planned on cooking for anyone because seducing Hazel in her inevitably bloodied state was on the forefront of your mind, and Mrs Callahan had a very tempting bright pink apron hanging on the hook.

So perhaps you did do this all for her.

Perhaps you were waiting for her, to stride on through the foyer, nursing a streak of dried blood down her nose, eager to catch her reaction at seeing you so comfortable in her space while you rushed to swoop in and fawn over her.

This near perfect daydream might have actually manifested…

Were it not for PJ's loud and obnoxious voice bleeding into the kitchen from the foyer, accompanied by the heavy groan of the front door slamming shut. Your shoulders visibly sag as you empty the rest of the soup into your bowl just as the trio rounds the corner into the kitchen.

"Oh my God - soup!" PJ exclaimed rushing towards you with her gaze zeroed in on the bowl locked firmly in your hand. You had been so focused on keeping the bowl from PJ's incessant grabby hands that you failed to see the dazed, almost breathless look that sprinkled over Hazel's face who drifted slowly behind Josie despite this being her house.

Suddenly, every thought about the impending bruise she was facing due to not dodging a right hook earlier vanished from her mind like doves in the wind. Hazel's head was completely flooded with the image of you, in her kitchen, with your cute as fuck little skirt grazing just above your knee.

This almost did not feel real. Less than a month ago, no one barely blinked in her direction, but now...

So enamored was Hazel by your act of service, she nearly failed to catch PJ's innate need to flirt whenever you were in the vicinity.

"You look hot by the way," PJ had slyly said, still reaching for the bowl of steaming soup, which you only drew higher above your head.

"Sorry PJ, only people who make me cum get to eat my cooking."

"Is that an invitation?" She asked, leaning against the counter, "That sounded like an invitation."

Hazel cleared her throat, finally succeeding in having your eyes wash over her. "Can we probably not talk about you fucking my girlfriend, maybe, I think?" She said cooly, discarding her bag somewhere on the floor before making her up closer towards you. Her slouch was even more prominent and you swear the air in your lungs thinned as she brushed up beside you and muttered, "Hey,"

"Hey yourself." And Hazel's tummy instantly warmed as you discarded the bowl on the counter, turning to cup her cheeks in your hands as you observed her latest shiners acquired from Fight Club. Something sinister flashed through Hazel's mind as your big dark eyes scanned over her visage, eyeing the new bruise splotched across her eye and the horizontal laceration on her cheek.

"It doesn't hurt," She can barely find her words under the overwhelming feeling of your care and attention. Your scent is all encompassing, and before she ever allows for anymore of her arousal to stain her boxers Hazel attempts to draw her face out of your palm.

"Jesus, Hazel!" You squeal, pulling her head down closer to your height, until Hazel has to support herself with a hand on the counter behind you, "Please don't tell me you were sparring with anyone on the football team again!"

You hoped you succeeded in masking how turned on that thought actually got you...

Hazel's voice is deep and low as she replies,

"Jeff said that if I can at least dodge his left, left, right hook next time, I could probably be ready for the whole team." You breathe out and airy laugh almost the same time as her, the both of you silently aware of what the other was doing.

"Ugh, you're such a virgin." PJ mutters under a mouthful of soup.

"I literally have a girlfriend," Hazel mutters without looking away. Her gaze was nearly trapped in yours as she allowed you to pull her limp body away from PJ and Josie. "Come on, I need to clean you up."

And that's how you had found yourself, cross-legged on Hazel's bed with her leaning against the headboard like your Oh so compliant little patient. Her gaze is yet to waver from yours, in fact, cleaning the laceration had been utter hell, right up until this point because Hazel had taken to drawing various circles against the skin of your exposed thigh.

The skirt had ridden up marginally from your seating position, and Hazel seems perfectly fine toying with your various emotions.

"You look really pretty," Hazel breathed out as if those words were sitting heavily on her heart ever since you applied the wet gauze against her left cheek. You try to hold your composure, keeping a firm eye on the dressing of Hazel's wound as you say, "I don't really think I want you going to fight club anymore,"

"Tch'yeah okay," she snickers dismissively, "Hey, is this skirt new? It's hot- like 'gay 50s housewife' kinda hot," There's an edge to her voice that has Hazel sitting taller against the headboard before incriminatingly letting her hands drift just a little higher on your thigh. Your breathing becomes heavier as you fight hard to maintain your crumbling composure.

"I'm serious, Hazel," you had begun to whisper. Why had you begun to whisper?

"I don't wanna have to stitch you up every time-"

As soon as the gauze was plastered onto her cheek, Hazel's head was already melting into your chest, nuzzling at your open cleavage exposed by your Pastel v-neck as she says, "God, I love it when you mommy me,"

"H-Hazel," any warning you tried to inject into your tone gets fizzled out by the embarrassing moan that escaped your lips as Hazel's teeth dragged lightly against the skin of your chest. Her hands were restless, as if she was testing herself as to how far she'd allow herself to go so quickly.

You suck in so much air as Hazel's palm cradles the inside of your thigh and because you're cross legged, closing your legs is nearly impossible. "Fuck, I'm so turned on, right now," her voice cracks as she brings her face up from your boobs. Pressing a hand to your cheek, she tries and fails to bring your lips towards hers.

Hazel frowns as you say,

"You think it makes me feel good seeing you like this?"

You ignore the budding voice in your head echoing the loud and very obnoxious 'yes, yes you do like seeing her like this. You like seeing that reckless smile blossom onto her cracked and battered face. It gets you wet and you know it does-'

But your voice is full of fragile conviction as you say, "You think I like seeing my girlfriend beaten up everyday of the week?"

Hazel blinks once before she succinctly replies, "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?" An entire desert ecosystem is suddenly born inside your mouth, and you swallow thickly as your eyes evade Hazel's uncomplicated, piercing gaze. She tilts her head, smiles gone, simply waiting for your response.

"Do you want me to tell you what I think?" She asks before steadily closing the distance between you once more. Only, you're so terrified of being caught out, so utterly embarrassed at the thought of her finding out about the pool of wetness that had begun soaking completely through your panties, that you back away the closer she gets. Your slinking backwards only allows Hazel to crawl closer until she's hovering above you in the centre of her bed.

You have her undivided attention, and she has yours. Your eyes recklessly scans her face, every cut, laceration, and every old bruise buried under a new one has your lips turning downward as a small, almost imperceptible whimper forces itself out of your throat.

"There she is…" Hazel whispers with a palm cradling your cheek, "There's my needy little girl," You're quickly slipping into subspace right in front of her and Hazel is more than grateful. A single silver pendant dangles from her throat as she dips down, finally connecting your lips in a quietly passionate kiss. Your eyes immediately flutter shut, and so does hers. The both of you are utterly enamored by the sheer lust communicated by the intensity of the kiss alone.

"Fuck," Hazel curses, momentarily breaking apart to peel off her oversized graphic tee. You're watching your girlfriend in her sports bra with unbridled lust shining heavily on your pouty lips.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She says, "Please, Baby."

You're slipping deeper and deeper but you still have half a mind to lightly whisper, "Hazel, they're right downstairs-" She's already crashing her lips back down onto yours.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She murmurs against your lips, never being able to stray too far.

The hand that isn't holding her up, hovering above you, is once again, underneath your skirts, only this time, the tips of her fingers are dragging up against your inner thigh with no chance of stopping.

"Fuck, Hazel,"

"Is that supposed to be an answer?"

You're already pulling your own hips off the bed, seeking her hand out like a whore as you break the kiss only to whimper, "Yes, okay, fine! I'm so wet for you, Hazel- just, please!"

She watches completely fargone as you let your soaked panties meet her awaiting palm. Watching you grind yourself against her hand has Hazel's mind absolutely descending into lust.

"God, you're so beautiful," she says, before finally pressing her own hand against your soaked panties. She rubs in harsh, rough circles, eager to bring you to the very edge of insanity. She needed to see you fall apart for her again and again-

"Inside," You whisper, watching your girlfriend rub your cunt with bated breath. You're still wearing your skirt but you figure Hazel needs to fuck you in it to fulfil some sort of fantasy and you don't entirely mind. Not at all.

"Hazel, Please. I need you inside-"

"Fuck- you're such a slut-"

Your head immediately falls back against the bed as Hazel's movements against your soaked panties increases.

"You like it when I call you a slut, baby?" Your hips stutter upwards in vague response as you moan loudly into the air.

"Fuck- Hazel, I'm close- I'm so fucking- fuck," the orgasm sneaks up on you like a villain in the night and you're spamming underneath her, while Hazel continues to rub your cunt through the torrid sensation. Before you've ever even come down from your high, there's a knock on the door, and look towards it with slightly parted lips and blurry vision.

"Hey- you have no more soup, and I think you two are fucking in there so Josie and I are just gonna g-"

"Fuck off, PJ!" Hazel screams at the door, failing to hear the small little 'Okay, rude' before she's lifting your skirt until they're pooling at your hips.

"Hazel, what're you-"

"Another one, okay?" She nods encouragingly before shifting your panties aside and pressing the colds tips of her forefinger and middle finger against your soaked cunt. "You're going to give me another one. I wanna see if I can do it."

You can't even roll your eyes at her unnecessary display of pride because your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as she drags the essence of your arousal along your clit. "Fuck, you look so hot-"

"H-Hazel," the aftershocks from your previous orgasm rack through your upper body just as the oncoming tempest of lust gears you up for the next one. Hazel leans over you once more as she continues to rub at your clit, "Just one more, baby, I know you can do it. Show me, baby." It's downright evil, the effect her manipulation has on your body as you descend further and further into your lust.

"Look at how perfect you look," she says with a voice thick with lechery, "Fuck, you get me so wet to, baby," she murmurs before instinctive pressing her lips to yours once again, as if something nestled in her being, craved the touch of your lips against hers.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me?"

"Fuck- Hazel-"

"I'm right here, angel," she whispers, before bringing the tips of her fingers to your opening. Hazel is quick to slide her index and middle finger into your pussy until she's fucking you hard and deep. It takes a few short pumps for you to clutch mindlessly at her forearms with your vision slightly waning as you look up at your smiling girlfriend who watches you descend into your orgasm.

"That's it," she coos as you clench around her fingers, "You're doing so well for me, baby,"

"F-Fuck!" You stutter out as you fall into the depths of euphoria. Your mind is flooded with nothing but Hazel, all thoughts previously plaguing your brain is made null and void. In the end, you're just a beacon for her to release her frustrations out on. Even if it means overstimulating you until you become a noisy, helpless mess.

For a while, each other's heavy breathing is all you hear.

That is, until you hear a loud bump against Hazel's closed door, drawing both your attention.

"PJ-" whispers Josie with unimaginable frustration.

"Oh my God, they're definitely fucking-"

[reallyromealone]

Title: quirkless

Fandom: Tokyo revengers, bnha

Characters: mikey, power loader, reader

Fic type: reader insert, omegaverse

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, fluff, omegaverse, quirkless reader, Omega male reader, soulmate reader

Notes: this is a Patreon exclusive, all other chapters are on my patreon , I just thought this was a good way to advertise

Summary: on a rainy day, (name) decided to hide in an old shrine to get away from the rain but didn't expect to meet Mikey, a quirkless alpha

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The rain was heavy, (name) sighing while seeking cover inside the old shrine. The rain was clearly not going to let up and (name) couldn't let the documents in his bag get ruined... So he guessed he was hanging out here till it let up or his cousin could pick him up.

It was quiet in the shrine, deterioration over the years and he was frankly surprised it held up at all. ' might as well work on stuff while I'm waiting' he thought and pulled out his work, wanting to be helpful to his cousin and his projects "it would have to be... 'gari... You got this measurement off..." He mumbled and fixed his cousin's error without a care in the world, the iPhone his cousin bought him working as his calculator for this all.

He was thankful for his cousin taking him after everything, he was only in his 20s and took (name) in regardless.

It really meant a lot.

Especially with well... What (name) was.

A hero taking in a quirkless Omega?

Unheard of.

"You shouldn't be here" a voice called out and (name) snapped his head up to see a blond standing before him cold back eyes.

"I'm sorry?"

-

Mikey didn't know why he was compelled to show up to the old shrine, haven't been there since he was 16 and now at the age of 19 he still remembered every detail, parking his bike off and out of the rain and stepped up. Half way he turned around, a familiar vantage point and swore he heard the old Toman members call out before continuing up, those feelings pushed down and continued his climb to the shrine.

It was untouched by time, the graffiti Baji did still on the door and signatures they did on the wooden frame...

He traced Drakens carefully....

"'gari, I know you're smart but seriously what does this mean?! I don't speak your weird jot notes!"

Mikey was confused before walking in, footsteps silent and he couldn't help but stare at the Omega based off the collar, working away on some blueprints without a note of the world around him.

"You shouldn't be here" the words slipped out calmly and the Omega snapped his head up, clearly frustrated "I'm sorry?" The words coming out like a question, eyes locking.

Then he felt it.

And he could tell the Omega felt the same.

"You're not gonna want me" (name) said simply, trying to move this along... He always thought of this day, lifting a paper and trying to figure out the codes his cousin used "why would you assume I wouldn't?" Mikey asked pointedly and (name) snorted "quirkless male Omega... Not exactly the most wanted" (name) looked back at him.

"You're quirkless?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"So am I"

That made (name) halt "you are?"

"So why wouldn't I want you?"

(Name) Couldn't believe his ears, he didn't plan this one...

Mikey wasn't expecting to find himself chatting for hours with this mystery Omega who sat beside him and chatted with him like he was his oldest friend.

"So Mikey, are you even interested in pursuing this?" (Name) Asked genuinely, knees pulled up and head resting on his knee caps with a sweet smile that made Mikey's alpha swoon a bit.

"Do you want to?"

"I'm not sure, I never expected you to stick around... I always imagined my fated mate to be disappointed with the whole quirkless thing..."

"Same" Mikey never bothered since he was a child, focusing on toman and now Kanto... "Maybe take it slow?" (Name) Offered and Mikey huffed a laugh, something he hadn't done in years "take it slow? Sure" his life was fast and busy but for this stranger... He found himself willing to go slow for him.

When the rain inevitably lifted, (name) was happy "well, I better get going before my cousin thinks I'm dead or something" (name) offered his hand to Mikey to help him up, the Alpha taking his hand and the two directly before each other "you have an email?" (Name) Asked softly, the smell of burning wood and spices radiating off the alpha, making (name) feel hazy.

Mikey could smell the sweet scent of (scent) and already felt obsessed with every aspect of the Omega, not wanting him to leave already...

"Wanna meet here tomorrow? Same time?" (Name) Asked him looking at him with an expression that made Mikey want to kiss him,was this the cupids arrow he always heard about with soulmates?

"Yes."

[pucksandpebbles]

𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒍𝒉⁴³

see 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑢𝑔𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 masterlist luke hughes x oc

Luke Hughes arrives in Michigan run down, closed off and unlucky in love. His incidental meeting with Hayden Chapman, who has returned to her hometown after the heartbreak of a century, sparks off something entirely unexpected for the two of them. But it will never last all summer, and whilst the two have the chance to heal each other, their secret little summer fling has the capacity to change them forever.

a/n : she's backkkkkk! hiya everyone, took a little break for my a level studies but I have finished and returned to writing. Thought I'd kick off my a level summer of dreams with a longer form fic. I really struggle writing long form but this will be a multiple part/chapter fic and a bit of a challenge so forgive me if it's a little slow. I really appreciate all the love and support so don't hesitate to send in asks, comment, reblog etc. because it really does keep me going. Love you all!!

wc : 5k

Luke’s first season is over, finally. It’s time for summer in Michigan once again and Luke has had his bag packed for weeks already, craving the warmth on his skin and the spray of the lake water kicked up by the motor of the boat as Quinn sails to the perfect spot. Luke misses how it’s simpler in the summer, no obligations and as little hockey as possible until training season begins to come back around. The wanders around Ann Arbour in the soft summer mornings and the parties in the evenings, his brothers shotgunning beers and music pulsing through the house. Luke’s been thinking about it for months now; when he’s shivering out on the ice and gripping his hockey stick with the force of something horrid, he thinks of how the sun will feel on his back when he finally gets there.

The journey down feels like it stretches out longer and longer, in a way that it didn’t used to, the weight of his hockey bag with all his gear for summer practice sits heavily on his right shoulder, it digs and cuts into his neck, the strap struggling to keep up with the weight of the bag. 

Each swallow clogs up his throat, gets stuck halfway, and it’s deeply unsettling. He’s had an okay first season with the Devils, fun with Jack and the rest of the team who have tried - and done a pretty good job - of keeping him from having a first season like Jack’s. Luke has spent the last few months reassuring Jack that he’s had a great time and that it was everything that he’d wanted. So why does the taste of the words feel bitter in his mouth when he repeats the same spiel to Jack. The return to Michigan hopefully heralds a turn around in his mood and that’s why he’s so looking forward to this summer, to letting his hair down metaphorically speaking and forgetting all about hockey for a moment. 

Luke’s been acting like the stroppy younger brother the entire way to the house, staring out at the passing landscape of Michigan with his headphones on, hoping that the music blasting through his headphones will distract his from the swirling thoughts which will hopefully wash down the drain once he gets back into the swing of summer. 

When they pull into the drive of the summer house, Luke manages to tear himself away from his iPhone screen to appreciate the lovely sight of his impending summer.

Which is when Quinn drops the bombshell that threatens his entire summer.

“We are going to play so much hockey this summer.”

Oh hell no. 

Luke sighs in response as Jack cheers in excitement, pulling his bag out of the boot of the car and dashing to the front door.

Climbing out slowly, Luke lugs his bag behind him and into the house, ducking from Jack’s hand which reaches out to ruffle his hair as he passes. 

His brothers are chatting between them as Luke drifts through the house towards his room, dumping his bag in the corner and flopping right onto the middle on the bed, falling into the soft sheets and smushing his face into the duvet, breathing in the familiar scent. His muscles are stiff from the long day of travel and Luke lets a slight groan slip from his lips as he stretches out on the soft surface.

He can hear the conversation between Jack and Quinn, dampened by distance, words just indecipherable murmurs. Probably something to do with hockey, usually he would be right down with them, yapping away like an excited puppy. He doesn’t think that either of them have noticed that he has been quieter than usual so far, and if they have, then they haven’t mentioned it. He doesn’t even know what he would say, how he would explain it. He just feels distant, drained.

Rolling onto his back, he draws his hands over his face, tugging at his skin and pulling through his knotted curls. They really need to be cut, he wandered, get the damp curls off the back of his neck.

He drags himself into the bathroom for a shower and trawls downstairs, casting a despondent glance at the empty fruit bowl and instead digs into the empty snack drawer for a stupid little health bar which he munches on with a disgusted face. He doesn’t know why he picked one of these, he knows he hates them.

Luke can hear the familiar sounds of stick and puck from their practice area elsewhere in the house and the very sound of it makes him want to scream. He hopes that things will turn around tomorrow when Trevor and Cole arrive, they’ll throw a good party and then maybe Luke can really lose himself.

Like he’s not already a little lost.

Going out onto the deck of the lake house instead, he watches a couple of the boats bob and hover on the water and listens to the lapping of the water close-by. He’s not sure how long he sits there, just listening, not actually doing anything at all. It’s been a long time since he’s not actually done anything except sit, it makes him itchy and uncomfortable.

It’s Jack who fetches him in and Luke quietly lets out a little thanks that it’s Jack who catches him by the water. Quinn was always a tad more perceptive than Jack, catching on faster to Luke’s souring mood, in a way that would take Jack a couple more days of moping to notice. 

“Lukey, getting pizza. What’s your order?” He hollers.

Luke whips around, scrambling to his feet, surprised by the sudden interruption. He follows Jack back inside to see Quinn standing expectantly at the kitchen counter, menu in hand.

Luke smiles contentedly, “I’ll have a pepperoni. I’ll come pick it up with you?”

Quinn nods, “Sure if you want, going in ten minutes.”

The pizza place is definitely new, Luke gets out and studies the exterior with one hand on his hip awkwardly like a disapproving mother. He knows the stone bricks are familiar but he can’t work out what was here before. Quinn insisted that the place isn’t new and that they’ve been once before but Luke is so sure that they haven’t. It’s new. Wasn’t here last summer. He ponders it as he pushes open the door, wandering in alone and leaving Quinn in the car as he goes to pick up the pizzas. He could swear that this place isn’t familiar, he furrows his brows as he stands at the abandoned counter. 

There’s a little toy bell that sits at the front on the counter. Luke looks around for a moment, then stretches out his hand towards the bell; his hand hovers over it, then he pulls it back hesitantly. With another sweep of his eyes across the empty pizza place, his hand hovers out again over the tiny silver bell, then taking a deep breath in, he tentatively presses down, letting it ring out a soft ting. 

At first, nothing happens, Luke wonders if he imagined the little sound that emitted from the bell. He takes a step back and pulls out his phone from his back jean pocket, scanning the room. 

Then there is a flurry of footsteps from somewhere that Luke can’t see, his head pops up in curiosity when he hears it. A girl rounds the corner, panting with her heads on her knees, she looks up for a second, taking a moment and smiling at Luke.

She rises from her folded position and Luke can see the little red apron wrapped around her waist and the blue fares and her little matching red tank top. Luke’s struck by the sight of her, and although he feels as if his jaw is hanging open he can’t bring himself to try and close it. Brown curls fall long and delicate across her chest and she pushes them back harshly, sighing and leaning against the counter.

Luke steps forward and she begins to speak, voice as sweet as a silver bell, “Hi, sorry I was in the back,” she stuffs her hands into her back jean pockets and lets an awkward smile dance across her lips, “What can I help you with today?”

“Are you new?” Luke blurts out.

He immediately regrets it. What the actual fuck Luke, how hard is it to be a normal functioning human being? Shaking his head, he tries to correct himself, 

“Sorry, I mean the shop?”

She smiles further and something about it draws Luke in like iron filings to a magnet.

“I wouldn’t know about the shop, but I sure am new,” she shakes her head, pulling out a little notebook and brushing a stray curl behind her ear gently, “so go easy on me would ya? Now, what can I help you with…”

Her voice trails off at the end, off and up. It takes Luke an embarrassingly long time to realise that that is his cue to tell her his name.

“Luke, I’m Luke.”

He glances at her nametag, which reads in swirly letters, against a dark red background and next to a stupid cartoon pizza icon, Hayden.

“Well nice to meet you Luke, I’m Hayden.” She grins, pointing up to her nametag and smiling awkwardly.

Luke nods, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, “I thought Hayden was a-”

“A boys name?” She bows her head sagely, laughing slightly and leaning forward to press her arms against the countertop, “Yeah well my parents wanted to be different.”

Both of them laugh gently. Luke glances over through the window and sees Quinn sat in the car waiting. He’s suddenly reminded that he’s sort of on a time limit.

He turns back to Hayden at the counter, “I’m here to pick up some pizza,” Luke says gently.

“Wow, shocker,” she giggles, a sound that Luke feels like he might get high off. She shakes her head and pulls out a little book from behind the counter, “What name?”

She laughs, “Sorry stupid question.”

“It’s not actually. I think it’s under Quinn Hughes.”

Hayden murmurs under her breath, rifling with quick and nimble hands through the little book on the counter. Luke rocks back on his heels while she does so, studying the gentle movements of her fingers as they brush through the yellowed pages.

“Ah, got it. One moment.”

Before a word can even come out of Luke’s mouth, she has disappeared into the back of the shop again. Luke can hear her rifling about where he can’t see in the back. It’s only a moment, but she pops her head around the corner, coming around with a stack of pizza boxes which she places on the counter.

Tearing the post-it note with Hughes written on the top off the box, she says, “Alright Luke, enjoy your pizza.”

“Thanks,” he sighs, unable to think of anything else to say to the gorgeous girl in front of him.

He picks up the boxes and moves towards the door, “Bye Hay-” is already out of his mouth but when he turns around, she has disappeared again.

It’s annoying. It’s incredibly irritating. Luke is completely unable to focus on his pizza, his cool beer, the sounds and smell of the lake house. Not because he is so focused on hockey, on how shit he feels, but on her.

Leaning off the edge of the deck, letting his curls hang down towards the water, Luke closes his eyes and sees a flash of brunette curls and green eyes. He can’t not think about it, about her. Like the same rush adrenaline that he feels when he hits the ice, an adrenaline that hasn’t been tainted with time, one that he doesn’t share with anyone, one that doesn’t come with obligations. 

He lets out a deep sigh into the marbled orange and red sky and hopes, more than hopes, believes that this summer is going to be a good one, for the first time since he arrived.    

Hayden might be fucked. Oh definitely.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she mutters to herself under her breath, as she quietly shuffles around the room, gathering up in her arms her pieces of clothing that are strewn across the carpeted floor.

Treading around carefully, she slinks softly through the small gap in the door out of the bedroom with her pieces of clothing crammed between her hands. 

She is so late for work. She has made herself so late for work.

The curses continue under her breath as she pulls on the discarded clothing in the living room, hobbling and jumping around with as much energy and urgency as her hungover self can muster. 

A little ding on her phone tells her that she should be at work by now which causes another soft fuck to slip from her lips. 

She can already bet on the disapproving shake of her boss's head as she comes barrelling through the door. Almost certainly the chiding from her friends and coworkers as she reveals that she hooked up with her ex-boyfriend once again this summer. Hayden is sure of the pursed lips of her mother when she reveals that once again, no, she will not be returning home for the summer with a boyfriend. There will be another attempt from reproachful relatives to set her up with someone suitable.

Only twenty, and she’s under some expectation to be settling down. Settling down but she can’t even drink yet. 

Hayden leaves through the unlocked front door still shoving one heel on forcefully, and then takes off in a jog down the street, thankful for the practice at the run club back in the city for giving the strength to run the entire way to the pizza place in a pair of hardly suitable shoes and with a thumping headache slap bang in the middle of her temple.

The first words that meet her as she comes pushing through the front door of the pizza place are from her best friend and coworker. The little bell at the top of the door rings which exacerbates the pounding in her head and Belle leans over the counter to look at her, one eyebrow raised and a slight smirk.

“Girl you are a hot mess,” Belle scoffs, pushing the little red apron across the counter towards Hayden.

Hayden just shakes her head as she reaches for the little piece of fabric, tying it around her waist with a little bow in the back.

Belle carries on, tapping her pen against the tile surface, “Seriously though, Jamie?”

Hayden presses her head against the tile, letting out a soft groan and trying not to think or rather to care about how many germs are probably on the surface at that moment. Since she got back to Michigan, her whole life has been such a mess and now she has to play happy and pretend at the golf club with the family for a whole week.   

“I wasn’t thinking.” She admits, running her hands through her hair, tugging a little at the strands.

She never thinks. 

A couple of months ago, Hayden was dreaming of her perfect summer at her boyfriend’s family’s home in the south. By march she had been out shopping, buying bits and pieces, a new and less slutty bikini suitable for meeting the parents. Hayden had been settling down, finally, much to the joy of her mother and father. The nights out had ceased and been traded for fancy dinners with the other big finance schmucks. For a while, it felt like it was something that Hayden would never be able to get used to, but then with time and plenty of expensive gifts, the feeling of being displaced had ceased and she felt happy. She’d succeeded, finally. Made it, done it, managed exactly what everyone wanted for her. By march, it felt like everything was perfect. The marriage, the kids, the nice, white and picket fence cul de sac home was in reach. In reach by march. By June all of that was out of the window. She was back hooking up with Jamie and working at a local pizza shop. It had all fallen away so quickly from her, no summers in Texas, no settling down. Her mother’s face had set back into that hard stone line and she had gone back to the family home in Michigan to face the music. 

That life felt so far away standing behind the counter of the pizza place, pushing her knotted hair behind her ears, smelling slightly of vodka and the feeling of her heels digging into her sore feet. 

It was a very slow day which only prolonged the way her mind dragged, like a trawler along the sea bed, over her past and the way that everything had gone wrong. She had taken to tapping her feet, raising them up and down in order to find some sort of relief. By midday, she had managed to snag a hairbrush to brush through the knots and a cloth to wipe her face with, which still had remnants of make up on. 

Luckily, Belle stayed until three, which gave her a good way to pass the time and distract her from the difficult day. Currently they were on the topic of summer plans, and Belle as per usual had plans for a riotous summer in Michigan, which Hayden was hoping to piggyback off. Belle had snagged an invitation to the first proper party of the summer season apparently and had invited Hayden as a plus one. She was toying with the idea, a nice party, kegger at some rich kid’s lake house, it would be a good time and a good chance to make some mistakes.

Hayden was hoping for something along the lines of a summer fling so she could properly let her hair down and get embroiled with someone else so that she didn’t have to think about how things had ended with her ex-boyfriend.

Belle was saying something about the boys hosting, two brothers who owned the property, real celebrities. Hayden wasn’t really listening that much, just looking at the way the paint peeled off the south facing wall, it was even worse round in the back, maybe if it stayed slow, she’d go around back and try and fix up some of the peeling paint - it was beginning to irritate her.

They chatted lightly until Belle had to leave, and bored out of her mind, Hayden sequestered herself into the back, reorganising some shelves that were piled high with random crap. The banged up radio crackled quietly and gently in the background as Hayden teetered on the top of the ladder, shuffling around items right at the back of the highest shelf, her legs wobbling with the weight of her own body and the effects of the night before as she kept her balance on her heels. 

She hummed along to the song on the radio under her breath, trapped in her own world. It was the most peaceful that she had felt in a way, quiet, on her own and left to do her job. Her phone was silent since she’d left Jamie’s house and she was very grateful for it. Undoubtedly he would be getting in touch in a couple days, drunk and begging for her to come over again, and she might be equally drunk, bored and lonely - not to mention stupid - and she would teeter on over, like she always did. Part of her wanted to break the cycle and move on, but frankly she’d gone through a lot of men, some like Jamie, and some like her most recent ex-boyfriend and she was done with it all. Maybe she should become a nun, she mused. Oh her mother would love that. Her life had really gone downhill since college, only 20 and already considering celibacy. 

She heard the tell-tale ring of the stupid little toy bell that they’d put out on the counter for customers - it knocked her right out of her little dream-state.

Mumbling curses under her breath, Hayden struggled to lower herself from the ladder, swaying and scrambling like a woman possessed. 

When she finally rounded the corner to the front of the shop, she was out of breath, and took a second with her hands on her knees to regain her breath, when she looked up finally, there was a boy standing there. Well, a man really. He was looking at her. She was looking at him. He stood awkwardly, hands almost limp by her sides and phone in hand. She’d never seen him before around here. Interesting. But she wasn’t exactly a local herself, he was probably only here for the summer, maybe the family had a summer house. Highly probable. The shoes and shorts were expensive, brand made. The car idling outside told a similar story. He didn’t look stuck up, but she eyed him down anyway, time would tell.

Hayden put on her best customer service voice, smiling at the guy and painting an apologetic smile across her lips, “Hi, sorry I was in the back. What can I help you with today?” 

Their conversation lasted no more than five minutes, Hayden could’ve guessed. 

As Hayden lay in her bed that evening, staring up at the feathered ceiling and the blinking time of seven pm on her old alarm clock, she couldn’t get the exchange out of her head. The boy.

Jamie was over. She shouldn’t really be thinking about Luke - that’s what he said his name was - as Jamie lay beside her, his greedy hands roaming her body. He was her age probably, and sweet and awkward, he led the conversation in a way that she was definitely not expecting it to, the complete opposite of the stuck up, rich boy coming from the city to spend the summer in Michigan. He had long curls that were clearly being unintentionally grown out, Hayden could guess that by the end of the week they would be gone, but as she lay on the warm sheets, she thought of the tight curls that stuck to the back of his neck and the fluff sitting on the top that he clearly had little idea of how to take care of. Hayden approximated that he lived in a cold state, covered up the hair with a beanie for half the year - if he was a California boy they would undoubtedly be better taken care of, salt curled and sun bleached. It was only guesses, she didn’t know the boy, and he had proven her wrong once before. 

Hayden turned her attention back to Jamie who was pawing at her like a sick dog. She grimaced. 

“Can you go?” She asked him, rolling her head to the side to look at him.

Jamie frowned, “What?”

“I’d like you to leave,” she rephrased, pushing herself off the bed and away from where Jamie was lying, tugging on her sweater haphazardly. 

His mouth was open like he was buffering in real time, gaping like a fish out of water, he shut it quickly, “Are you serious.”

“Very, Jamie, get out.”

Jamie leered forward, “Baby…”

Hayden shook her head, stepping back, “And I am not your baby, haven’t been for a long time. I’m done with this.”

The boy mumbled out a quiet but harsh affirmation and got out of the house as quickly as he could manage. By the time he’d shut the door behind him, Hayden pulled her hands through her hair and grabbed her tote bag and her keys which were laying on the side of the sofa and got out of the house as fast as she could.

Hayden went to her favourite place in town, and probably the only place that was still open at the late hours of the evening, Kenny’s cornershop. That’s not what it was actually called, but rather what everybody called it. And it was her favourite for a plethora of reasons, the double whammy of fresh fruit, the classic late night snacks and Kenny’s lovely affinity for letting Hayden purchase alcohol underage, which was good because Hayden lacked a passing fake ID.

She rolled into the car park slowly and made her way into the store, decorated with the nostalgic glare of old strip fluorescent lighting. Wandering slowly through the aisles and picking at the snacks, trying to decide what to purchase with her measly pizza shop paycheque, she heard the echoing of male voices. 

Ever the snooper, Hayden couldn’t help but listen in. 

“I’m not planning on having a summer like yours Jack.” A voice chimed, tinted with annoyance but soft with affection.

Someone, Hayden could only assume it was Jack, responded, “Come on Rusty, not even one little summer fling,” it was playful and abrasive. Hayden snorted softly. 

A third voice entered the conversation, “Leave him be Jack, he’s more of the settle down type. But seriously Lukey, you’re not going to have any fun while we’re here?”

Lukey. Hayden wondered if it was the same Luke from before. Probably with some friends that he was summering with, it piqued Hayden’s interest. 

Picking up a tub of ice cream and a cider, Hayden rounded the corner slowly, eyes picking through the store and landing on Luke and two other guys - both looking older - standing by the soft drinks section further down the aisle. They were still deep in bickering as Hayden made her way down the aisle with slow and gentle steps. 

Luke’s eyes scanned the store and caught her walking towards him, Hayden smiled placidly as she watched recognition flicker in his eyes.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

Hayden felt a rush surge through her with the recognition and as she walked past, met his gaze squarely.

“Hi Luke,” She replied, like a goddamn idiot. 

“Uh Luke, who the fuck was that?” Jack whispered harshly as Luke watched Hayden’s departing figure.

Luke looked back at the somewhat stunned faces of Jack and Quinn, who had been chiding him less than a minute ago.

He shrugged, picking up a gatorade and turning it over to read the nutrition label on the back, “The girl who works at the pizza place. I met her today picking up our order.”

“You like her?” Quinn asks, studying Luke in a way which makes Luke’s skin crawl, it’s analytic - it’s Quinn’s ‘older brother syndrome’ kicking in.

“She’s nice,” Luke hums, reaching forward to put the bottle he was holding back on the shelf to look at the over flavours that the little store has available.

Jack throws up his hands, voice screechy and exasperated, “Jesus Luke, she’s nice?”

“What do you want me to say?”

Jack has one hand on his hip, Quinn is rolling his eyes as Jack rambles, “I don’t know. But Jesus Luke, if you don’t hit that, I will.”

“Jacky don’t be crude,” Quinn scolds, smacking Jack’s shoulder lightly.

Luke shakes his head in response to Jack, “I don’t know.”

The conversation ends there. Luke is sure that it won’t be the first time that summer that Quinn is scolding Jack about his attitude towards women; Luke has already heard all about Jack’s whorish summer plans, which Luke wants no part in. Luke thinks Quinn feels the same way.

But Jack and Quinn’s words stick in his head nonetheless. She was nice, she was more than nice. She was saccharine sweet with an edge. She had a biting smile and an attitude under her veneer of softness, Luke caught glimpses of it. Luke wondered if she was an eldest sibling - her and Quinn had the same analytical, critical gaze. The same gaze that Luke withered under when it was Quinn, but when she looked, when she really looked, Luke felt like bearing his entire soul to her, like she was doing it out of care and curiosity. He hoped that they met again, just so Luke could feel the way her attention pulled on the edges of his soul, unravelling him before her. 

A complete stereotype. Typical Luke. Falling apart in front of a pretty woman.

Luke used to be a hopeless romantic, but love had an interesting way of doing him dirty, screwing him over. He hadn’t ever really had a proper serious relationship, never found the one, they usually were eyeing up Jack instead, Luke was just a conduit. He would never say it to his brothers, his friends, his teammates, anyone really, but in terms of love and relationships, Luke was insecure; his mother had said once that she thought he’d be the first one to get married, but as time wore on, Luke couldn’t help but feel like it would never happen. It made him anxious and itchy and he had made himself a silent pact to stay away from love for as long as possible, maybe meet someone who didn’t know who he was, didn’t know his family. 

He tossed and turned the whole night under the warm heat of the lake house and the pressure of the year so far weighing down on him, like a stone sinking through water. Luke felt like he was gasping for air, failing at every aspect of what was expected of him.

The thought of the party tomorrow night made him feel sick now, he was really not in the mood for drunkenness and strangers. Probably girls, who’d crowd him and made him feel that horribly familiar itchy feeling. Jack sucking off someone face in a corner, Trevor too, and Quinn chatting up someone too, trying to get over the post break-up moping.

When Luke finally drifted off to sleep, he was curled up in a ball, replaying every interaction that he’d had with Hayden that day. 

He sneered at himself. What a loser.  

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut (oral, f receiving), overload of cheesiness, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.8k+

→ a/n: this might be the cheesiest, fluffiest thing i've ever written, and i can't even be bothered to care. it might be unrealistic. it might be too much. i do not care. this has been a long time coming and i think we all deserve all the cheese after this story.

i don't even know what to say besides thank you. thank you to everyone who followed along from the beginning, to those of you joined the journey along the way, to those of you who are reading as we finish it up. thank you for all the support and love you guys have shown this fic. i will always, always, appreciate it more than i know how to say. i love these idiots, and i love you all.

if you would like to see this story continued through small blurbs, my ask box is officially open to requests from this universe. i will also probably be posting some "beyond the hours" content over the next few weeks.

thank you. i love you.

without further ado...

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

EPILOGUE: A BET

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Why are there so many fuckin’ options?” 

Eddie stares at the line up of smartphones before him, all different models and different physical sizes, different colors and different memory amounts. 

“There’s not that many,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around him from behind as you rest your chin on his shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, making you lean up onto your tippy toes, “Besides, isn’t having options a good thing?” 

He scoffs as he brings a hand up subconsciously to where your arms overlap on his torso, grip gentle as he runs a thumb over your skin and gives a squeeze, “Sure, options are great. But there’s at least twenty different iPhones on display here, sweetheart.” 

The last few months had been interesting, to say the least. A new and exciting journey initially, but also a fairly stressful ordeal given all the hoops you two had been jumping through. You’re both busy people, having to suddenly figure out how to carve out a specific space for each other amongst bustling lives. It wasn’t the same as making time for friends or a weekly night out; it was figuring out times for dates, times for lazy afternoons, times for just you and just Eddie.

And, occasionally, time to take Eddie shopping for a new phone. Finally.

“Well, better pick one fast,” your fingers dig into his side playful, and he blows out an annoyed breath as he side-eyes you. You only retaliate in a fast peck to his cheek before whispering in his ear, “We’re gonna be late if you keep taking all day.” 

It was Argyle’s birthday party tonight. His actual birthday wasn’t for another week, but he’d be venturing back home to California for that. And so the group elected to throw him a preemptive party at one of the group’s favorite bars. 

Which — fine. Awesome. You were excited, you really were: you loved Argyle, you loved your friends, you even found yourself warming back up to parties.

But your friends didn’t know. 

Two whole months, and neither you nor Eddie had told a single soul of what had become between you two. Not even Steve. Not even Nancy. 

At first the excuse was to give this time to grow, to find your footing before you brought your lovable yet rambunctious group of friends into the equation. But then you two had found your footing, and you’d worried what they would say. Eddie had nearly made himself sick with anxiety over Nancy finding out he’d kept this relationship from her. They’d support you two — that wasn’t a worry. They’d proven that since the first time the entire group had hung out after the bet.

“So,” Robin started, narrowing her eyes at you and Eddie sitting on opposite ends of her and Steve’s couch. Neither of you had said a word to each other yet (Plenty had already been said that morning as you’d snuck him out of your dorm), “You two really aren’t together?” 

“Why is everyone so adamant that the bet has to end with us getting together?” you jeered.

Eddie didn’t help the cause when he was quick to take your side, “Exactly! The bet’s over. We lasted twenty four hours. We’re friends now — isn’t that what you guys wanted?” 

“I actually wanted to help you dudes plan a winter wedding,” Argyle chimed from the kitchen where he was retrieving a coke, “So I’m gonna side with Birdie on this one.” 

“Of course you are,” you muttered beneath your breath. 

Everything in you ached to be sitting next to Eddie rather than so far. You ached for his arm around you, his lips pressed to your temple. Just to share body heat, even — innocent thighs brushing with layers of denim between would have been enough.  

“It’ll happen eventually,” Nancy mused from her seat on the kitchen counter, Jonathan beside her and matching her confident energy with a sly grin, “Just give them time.” 

What they hadn’t realized is that it already did happen. The moment Eddie showed up to your dorm and the two of you said to Hell with space, it was inevitable. 

Now, it was just the challenge of letting your friends in on the secret.

“What about the red one?” Eddie asks you as you finally unravel from him.

“Of course you’re choosing the red one.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scowls, no malice behind it as you step up to occupy the space next to him, brushing shoulders for only a moment before his hand is grabbing yours, intertwining fingers like second nature. 

You recall that moment on his balcony, where he had once been so nervous and hesitant to hold your hand. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you look at the specific model he was talking about, “You’re just getting a little bit predictable, Munson.” 

He opens his mouth to argue, to nip back at what you always offer him, when one of the salesmen approach you two.

“Hi folks! Can I help you with anything today?”

Eddie squeezes your hand, no doubt in an effort to withhold his laughter at the man’s overly chirpy tone. You squeeze back, if for nothing more than to let him know you felt him.

Despite Eddie’s previous claim to a decision, he still chooses to entertain the man. Asking questions about different models, inquiring for recommendations as if they’d change his mind. They go back and forth, both polite enough, but the conversation easily bores you. In five seconds flat, your mind has officially wandered off.

You two hadn’t really discussed the specific details of the night to come. Whether you’d ride with Eddie there, how you’d navigate Eddie’s natural born clinginess once he got a few drinks in him, if tonight might be the night to finally tell your friends. 

The last one felt a bit obvious. It was Argyle’s night — you didn’t want to snatch the attention from him for even a second. 

But there were layers to your anxiety. Because it was more than just how to navigate how you two would display yourselves to your friends on nights out. 

It had been two months, and you still hadn’t said those three little words back to Eddie.

He didn’t pressure you. He never once brought it back up, never once pressured you. But just because he wasn’t constantly reminding you vocally that he loved you didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. You’d felt it, impossible to miss, when all those lazy morning fantasies became reality. You felt it during movie marathons and you felt it every time he’d worship your body. It was there — in the late nights, in the early mornings, in the dull afternoons. A wild thing unleashed in your gardens, all those vines you’d worked so hard to see flourish threatened to be torn up by impatient claws at the feeling growing rapidly in your chest every time you looked at him.

And slowly, surely, you knew that there was only so much longer that like could suffice in describing your feelings for Eddie. 

You were falling, whether he was aware or not. You just needed to figure out the right moment for those three little words to unstick, to go from hot honey on your tongue to easy breaths between you two. He’s given you time, he’d filled the months you’d awarded him with making up for every previously bitter exchange, and yet you still couldn’t give him this. And you’re starting to believe maybe that’s why you couldn’t imagine telling your friends yet. 

You sort of hated yourself for it.

You’re pulled back to reality once the salesman departs, no doubt into the back to grab Eddie’s choice of phone. You don’t even have to ask; you know he got the red one.

“Hey,” Eddie fully turns to you, bringing your knuckles to his lips in chaste kisses. Your stomach still kicks with flutters, your heart still warms at the gesture. Eddie’s affection has yet to lose novelty, “Where’d you go?”

“What do you mean?” you twist your face, “I was here the entire tim-“

“Not where’d you physically go,” he clarifies, letting your conjoined hands drop back to the sliver of space between your bodies, “Mentally. Where’d your mind just go?”

 You hadn’t thought he’d notice your drifting.

“Nowhere,” you shrug off.

“Nowhere? So you’re really just that interested in the newest iPhone model?” 

He pointedly looks up at the widescreen display you don’t doubt you’d been blankly staring at the entirety of his conversation with the man who had yet to return.

“Oh, absolutely. You know me so well.” 

All bark, no bite. These days, all the previous venom that had infected exchanges with Eddie prior to the bet had finally been sucked clean from the wound, long gone to make room for all the genuine affection to seep into its place. You still argued — or perhaps bantered was a better word for it — but you didn’t fight. You both still grated on one another’s nerves and managed to slither beneath the other’s skin, but not in an unwelcome way. 

It was a nice change.

It made you hate yourself even more for not saying those three little words. 

Eddie seemingly reads your mind, “Are you nervous for tonight?”

“I-“ you consider lying to him and saying it hadn’t even crossed your mind, but the look he gives you warns against it, “We just haven’t… discussed it.” 

“What’s there to discuss?” 

You hold up your interlocked hands for emphasis, raising your eyebrows at Eddie.

His mouth falls open softly, eyes widening, “Oh. Are you- Are you wanting to tell them tonight?” 

No, your gut screams, absolutely not tonight.

“Is Argyle’s birthday party really the best time to explode their minds?” 

You try to keep your tone teasing as you sense Eddie’s own nerves creeping up. Sometimes it was fun, standing in a room with everyone and pretending to be more akin to strangers than lovers. But sometimes, it was just plain painful. Sometimes, the entire group would be laughing at something, and you craved nothing more than to be pressed into Eddie’s side and feel the vibrations of his shared joy rather than just having to listen to it from across the room. 

It’s not that you wanted to tell your friends and cause a scene — you just didn’t want to have to hide anymore. And maybe you wouldn’t have to, if you’d just tell him how you felt.

“Probably not,” Eddie murmurs, “I mean, it’s his night. We can always tell them the next time we all get together.”

The issue is that’s what the two of you always say. You always brush it off for the next time. 

You can only sigh in defeat as you see the salesman finally bounding back out from the back room, a small box holding Eddie’s purchase in his grip, “Yeah. Next time.” 

You can’t even be mad at next time. It’s the same thing you tell yourself every time you felt those words on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far from revealing the most terrifying truth you’d discovered yet to Eddie.

You let go of his hand long enough for him to check out, hardly overhearing when he questions how they can transfer all the data from his current flip phone. When he seems particularly worried about pictures transferring, you don’t think anything of it.

—

STEVE-O: do i need to pick you up tonight? 

You don’t see the text. You’re a bit busy with something when it comes through.

Something is currently still between your legs, curls threaded between your fingers as your back arches off his mattress and his name starts to come out as a desperate whimper rather than a chant. 

STEVE-O: ???

The initial buzz of your phone on his nightstand doesn’t phase either of you. Eddie’s tongue still works you eagerly, circling your clit as you tug particularly harshly at his roots. Each flick sends white hot pleasure through your bones, nearly making you see stars.

“Fuck,” you gasp out when he brings his fingers into the mix. You can feel his smile against you as he curls his fingers inside of you, mimicking a come hither motion and relishing in your little pants as your thighs tighten around his shoulders, “Oh, fuck. Right there, Eddie. I- Eddie.” 

The way you’re moaning his name only encourages him as he slips in a second finger, stretching you further. You feel cool metal bumping your entrance, sending shocks up your spine as his lips suction against you and he sucks hard.

He hadn’t even taken the time to remove his rings when the two of you had gotten home. He had been too eager, dragging you to his bedroom with his lips attached to your neck from the moment he’d shut the front door behind the two of you until he’d thrown you down on his bed.

“That’s right, baby,” his voice vibrates against your clit, “Say my name. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this goo-“

STEVE-O: helllooooo????

“Okay, who the fuck keeps texting you?” Eddie finally pulls back when he realizes you’re slipping out of that bubble he’d created, your head having turned towards the nightstand in curiosity, “Let me guess, it’s your other boyfriend?” 

Your head is still spinning and your chest continues to heave from that lingering pleasure he’d been offering so generously to you. He sounds annoyed, but you can guarantee you’re even more irked. 

“I don’t have another boyfriend,” you blandly reply, not taking his bait.

It only makes him wrap his hands around your thighs on his shoulder, giving a playful squeeze as you reach out for your phone. 

“You sure?” 

You squint at the notifications, but don’t properly read them, only rolling your eyes at both the fact that Steve’s the one interrupting this precious moment and at Eddie’s valiant teasing.

You slam the phone back down, eyes trailing down to his, “I am, but I can certainly find another boyfriend if you don’t get your mouth back on me in the next three seconds-“ 

He doesn’t need a second warning. In an instant, the warmth of his tongue is back on you, lapping at all the spots he’s come to memorize as of recently. That pleasure comes back into reach, edging your vision with feathery black as your eyes flutter shut and the coil in your stomach tightens.

You throw your head back into one of his pillows, one that has started to smell like your shampoo now rather than his, and let a drawn out whine escape your lips.

“You were saying?” he teases, grinning wickedly. He takes that brief moment to come up for air, turning and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh beside his cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood, and probably not hard enough to leave indents. But it is enough to have you preening once more as your heels dig into his bare back and you try to lift your hips, desperate for his mouth again.

He was edging you. Without even meaning to, he was repeatedly bringing you to the edge only to leave you teetering. 

With your focus back on him, you can admire how pretty he looks. Mouth slick with you, pupils blown out, hair an absolute mess. You like him best this way, you think, when he looks so absolutely devoted to you. When he’s looking at you with a hunger you almost can’t place. It makes you want to scream from the rooftops about how you’ve fallen for him. How you feel so much more than like for your boy. 

STEVE-O: seriously. if you don’t respond, you can just walk. you have five minutes.

At the buzz of the phone, your hands leave Eddie’s hair to form fists, pounding them into the mattress at your side in a brief tantrum. He ceases all actions, pulling his lips away from you again, and it only makes you pout more. 

“Baby,” he coos, fingers trailing up the sides of your thighs before he reaches out to hold your fists down, “Maybe you should answer him. Tell him to fuck off-“

Eddie’s interrupted as your phone fully bursts to life with your ringtone.

You were going to kill Steve Harrington. 

“On second thought, let me answer it,” Eddie groans as you reach out and grab it once more, “Give the fucker a piece of my mind.”

“Shut up,” you hiss as you realize it’s Robin calling. You turn the screen so he can see, and his eyebrows lift in surprise.

He makes no move to remove himself from between your legs, though. He stays face to face with your aching core.

“Hello?” you snap after swiping to answer.

“Finally! My God, Steve’s been texting you-“

“I didn’t see the texts.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Nope.” 

You’ve never been so short with your friends. 

But that pleasure is slipping from you, the flames of your impending orgasm dying down to nothing more than embers. It’s enough to piss anyone off. 

“Are you sure?” Robin asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “It’s kind of a far walk-“

“I’m running late,” you sigh, realizing that you were going to have to come up with a lie to get off the hook. Another thing you hated about the hiding — it led to your friendships being littered with dishonesty. Always a new excuse as to why you weren’t available, always feigning reasons as to why you didn’t reply to texts as timely as you used to. “With getting ready. I could- I don’t know, do you think Eddie might pick me up? Isn’t my dorm along the way to the bar from his place?” 

At the mention of his name, he perks up. His cheek settles against the exact spot he had bit just moments before, nearly nuzzling into you as your free hand comes down to gently push back his bangs. On instinct, you find yourself soothingly pressing your fingertips in slow circles against his scalp. You’re nearly melting beneath his soft gaze, those big and wide eyes locked on you with bated breath.

“You want Eddie to pick you up?” you suddenly hear Steve exclaim in the background.

Your face scrunches up, a wrinkle forming across the bridge of your nose and between your brows. It’s so damn cute to Eddie that he can’t help but press a quick kiss to the skin he continues to lay into, beginning to smile as your absent-minded head massage continues. 

So much more than like.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was on speaker.” 

“Why do you want Munson to pick you up?” Steve ignores your sarcasm, voice sounding closer to the phone now, “He drives a motorcycle, you know. That’s dangerous.” 

Eddie must be able to catch some of Steve’s shrill exclamation, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. You feel his curious hum against your skin and you don’t hesitate putting your own pesky friends on speaker. 

“Motorcycles are not that dangerous,” you retort, and it makes Eddie have to hide a slight scoff into your thigh in an effort to stay silent. It was ironic that they cared about how safe it would be for you to ride with Eddie on his bike now, after that allegedly dangerous vehicle had been your main source of transportation for nearly two months now, “He has a helmet, right?” 

“Isn’t your dorm the opposite direction of the bar from his place?” Robin questions, “I mean, I’m all for you asking lover boy if he’ll give you a ride but-”

Steve interrupts her flatly, “It’s making him go out of his way. Besides, he might have already left for the bar by now.” 

You don’t know what to silently laugh at first. The assumption they were making that couldn’t be further from the truth, or Robin’s new nickname for Eddie. 

Lover boy is fitting for him in this current position. He’s still latching onto your leg, cuddling you in every way he could from where he laid, staring at you and hanging onto your every last word. The poster boy for pathetically in love, he gives your leg another kiss, starting a fiery trail with his lips until he reaches your knee. It pangs in your chest, wondering if he can see your feelings also painted so obviously across your face. 

“Steve,” you murmur, breath catching in your throat as Eddie’s lips linger in the ditch of your knee. It takes a second to remember you’re on the phone, “No offense, but Eddie hasn’t been on time to a single get together the entire time I’ve known him.” 

Eddie reacts in real time to your insult, forcing an over-exaggerated offended look before he bites you again. This time, his teeth do leave an imprint from his nip, and it makes you slap a hand over your mouth to avoid yelping. 

Don’t bite me, you mouth at him. 

Don’t be mean, he answers right back, silent as ever. 

“Technically we’re all already late,” Steve points out. It makes you sit up quickly, startling Eddie in the process. You squint at the clock across the room and- fuck. Steve was right, “Nancy just texted me that she and Jon are there, Argyle’s on his way. She said she tried texting Eddie but didn’t get any response,” there’s a long pause as you motion wildly for Eddie to get up with you, the boy watching as you fling yourself off his mattress and carry the phone with you to his dresser, “Have… you heard from him recently?” 

“Why are you saying it like that?” you jab, throwing open one of the drawers Eddie had cleared out for you to keep some clothes here in his apartment. At this point, a good chunk of the tuition you paid was going to waste considering the fact you rarely spent the night at your dorm. You were already half moved into Eddie’s space. 

You try not to think too hard about it, because just last week, you’d had a panic attack at the revelation. 

You were afraid of smothering him, even if he was the one always insisting you could leave more of your things here. He was always the one conning you into spending another night, promising soft murmurs of giving you a ride to class the next morning if you did. You rarely ever had much of the choice in the matter; once he’d wrap his arms around your waist, curl his body flush against yours, it was always game over.

Practically living together, and you still hadn’t said those words back to him. 

“I’m not saying it like anything!” Steve defends himself, “I’m just asking an innocent question!” Eddie’s snort this time is audible, and you freeze as Steve clearly mistakes it for your laughter, “Shut up. It’s a reasonable question. You guys are friends now, remember?” 

Friends. Of course, because all your friends jumped at the chance to bury their mouths against your cunt and make you cum repeatedly until you had tears streaming down your cheeks. Because you let all your friends sleep in the same bed as you, and wake you up by burying deep within you as they bite your shoulder with a moan. You and Eddie were friends. 

“Trust me,” you glance over your shoulder in your haste, looking at Eddie as he stretches out on his side and props himself up on his elbow, “I remember.” 

He gives you a knowing smile, squinting his eyes at you in entertainment. 

“Babe, it really would just be easier for you to ride with us,” Robin’s voice sounds again as you tug a shirt out of the drawer, something casual and comfortable that you could style for the night, “Unless you’re just hellbent on having alone time with Eddie for some reason-”

“I’m not hellbent on being alone with him, Robs.” 

Another lie. I definitely am. But not in the context you think. 

“You just sound like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” you yank a pair of black jeans free from the drawer and slam it shut, standing and turning to Eddie. 

He hardly has time to react before you’re tossing your phone down on the mattress in front of him, the small device bouncing and hitting his chest. He winces and throws himself back dramatically, letting out a small oof that you pray neither Robin or Steve pick up on. 

As you dress, throwing on the random t-shirt and shimmying on your jeans, Robins laughs, “Denial isn’t a good look on you.” 

Eddie watches you, never moving to get ready himself. All he does is stare as you button up the pants. 

When you give him an expectant look, he merely mouths, bra? 

You shake your head. You don’t know where Eddie had flung your undergarment, and you’re not in the mood to frantically search for it. You’ve gone without a bra before – you can survive one night out without one. 

Eddie’s entire face and chest immediately flushes pink. Cute.  

“Now you guys are just being assholes,” you scowl despite the fact that only Eddie can see it, waving your hands to motion for him to get up and also get dressed, “I’m texting Eddie. If he has already left, I’ll just walk. Fuck you guys.” 

“Tell lover boy I said hi,” Robin teases. 

“Even if he’s already parked at the fucking bar at this point, we both know he’d jump right back on his bike and come pick you up,” Steve’s voice grumbles over the line. 

It almost makes you smile.  “Someone sounds jealous.” 

“Not jealous, just annoyed,” Steve corrects as Eddie finally stands from the bed, “When are you two going to get your shit together?”

“What do you mean?” you play dumb.

You’ve had this conversation with your friends multiple times. They were truly going to have your head once they realized what you’d been keeping from them for months now. 

“Don’t you have a 4.0 GPA?” Robin inserts herself back into the conversation, “You can’t possibly be this stupid.” 

Eddie pauses in his fumbling with pulling his jeans from the pile he’d left his clothes in at the end of the beg, face scrunching in silent laughter. You almost walk over and smack his bare back angled towards you. 

“First of all, no. I don’t have a 4.0 GPA. Thanks for the reminder,” you grab your phone back off of the bed and decide to leave Eddie behind in the room, heading into the bathroom to finish getting ready. You hate to admit it, but if you have to keep watching him giggle so cutely to himself, you’ll also probably break. And you aren’t in the mood for any further interrogation from Robin and Steve, “Second of all, I’m hanging up now. I’m going to call Eddie. At least he won’t be such a dick to me.” 

“Oh, you must see the irony there-” 

You cut Steve off, “Bye! See you in… like, ten minutes.” 

Once you’ve hung up, you put your phone down on the bathroom counter and look up into the mirror. Your hair is a mess, wild and tangled from all the writhing you had been doing before being so rudely interrupted. You give it your best effort, trying to tame it a little bit to look more presentable, but it’s a lost cause at this point. Fuck it. 

Eddie appears in the doorway behind you, fully dressed and his hair pulled back into a bun, leaning into the door frame with his arms crossed and an impish grin on display, “Oh, you’re going to call me now, sweetheart?” 

You glare at him in a jocosely manner through the reflection, “Don’t look so proud of yourself.” 

He pushes off the frame and comes up behind you, still locking his eyes only through the reflection as he leans his chin over your shoulder, “And what if I don’t want to give you a ride? You have been awfully mean – insulting my punctuality, throwing your phone at me, teasing me by going without a bra. The list goes on and on.” 

Something deep within you stirs, those embers that still ache to burst into a forest fire. You hate that you could easily spend the entire night here with him, letting him take you every which way between his sheets. And even without sinful actions involved, you would be plenty content with just his presence tonight. As a matter of fact, you might be more content with that outcome rather than heading out to see your friends.

Sorry Argyle, you think guiltily. 

“I’m teasing you?” you question just as his hands land on your hips, moving so that he was pressed firmly against the curve of your ass. Making sure you could feel how hard he was against the seam of his jeans’ zipper, “You didn’t even make me cum.” 

“Seems like we’ll both be spending the night frustrated, then,” he smiles, almost gleefully, almost devilishly, “Besides, that was technically Harrington’s fault, not mine. We both know I usually have no problems making you cum on my tongue – without interruptions, of course.”

He rolls his hips ever so slightly into you, and your mouth falls open, eyes going glossy as you continue to stare him down through the mirror.  The stirring in your abdomen is persistent now as your heart hammers against your ribs, mind melting and completely forgetting the obligation at hand. 

And Eddie knows this. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you, and it’s deliberate. 

Suddenly, his body completely pulls away from yours, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do we, sweetheart?” 

Damn him. Damn him, and damn his dimples, and damn how good his legs look in those jeans as he’s walking away from me right now.

You linger in the apartment, alone, for a few extra minutes to compose yourself. Trying to quelch the heat between your hips that had slowly spread across your entire body, threatening to consume you. You even go as far as to splash cool water across your cheeks, giving yourself a few smacks for good measure as you try to prepare yourself to go into public and put on the usual act. And beneath it all, you also hush the animal in your chest, the one that claws at you to tell him. The one that wails everytime you simply tell him you like him, the one that roars when you let another moment slip you by. It has to quiet, just as your flames need to settle, all for the sake of the act.

You deserve a goddamn Oscar at this point. 

After deciding that touching up your makeup would take up far too many precious seconds, you’re darting out of Eddie’s apartment, locking up behind yourself before you head down to where he’s waiting. He’s already straddling his parked bike, the engine roaring to life like the animal inside you as you exit the main doors of the building and his hands extend his only helmet. You don’t fight him on who’s going to wear it – that’s a battle, you’ve learned, you will always lose. 

We really need to just buy a second helmet. 

The thought makes you smile as you hold the clunky thing. Buying a second helmet. Something Eddie had never done before, because he had never had a regular passenger before. He had never had someone glued to his side as you had become, not even Nancy. It sounds terribly domestic; perusing aisles with him, debating which helmet fits your style best. He’d probably make a joke about your head being big. He’d probably tease you for looking at the ridiculously expensive ones and tell you to opt for a cheaper one. You’d probably end up with a pricier one in the cart regardless, and Eddie would probably refuse to let you pay for it. 

Domesticity. The image of it doesn’t ache like it had that night all those months ago. This isn’t something you yearn for hopelessly, smoke and mirrors that dissipate when you dare to reach out for it. It’s something finally in your grasp. Something tangible and something bound to happen, all you’d have to do is say the word and Eddie would comply eagerly. 

Anything to keep my girl safe, as he would tell you any time you pointed out how dangerous it was for him to go without a helmet. He’d gotten creative in saying his own version of those three little words. 

“M’lady,” he hums, nodding for you to put the helmet on before sweeping a hand over the empty space in the seat behind him, “Your chariot awaits.” 

You don’t have a snarky quip to throw back at him, only grinning at the ground as you flip the helmet around a few times to prepare to put it on. All those embers aren’t just desire for him – there’s a warmth there that always exists. A candle on the windowsill of the home you had finally found. 

You raise the clunky thing and tilt your head when Eddie suddenly says, “Oh, and babe?” 

Immediately, you lower it, eyes wide in curiosity, “What?” 

“That’s my shirt.” 

“What?” 

He motions to the t-shirt tucked carefully into your jeans, “That fine shirt you are currently wearing is mine.” 

You look down, and he’s right. It’s too late to go back inside to change, and you know he’s aware of this when you catch his amused smirk. He probably noticed the moment you had put it on, and had deliberately waited until it was too late for you to do anything about it to inform you. 

Bastard. 

“I-” you pinch the fabric between your fingers, looking between it and Eddie wildly for a second before your shoulders slumped in defeat, “It’s fine. I doubt they’ll even notice.” 

—

You were wrong. They do notice. 

Everyone is already waiting inside for the two of you, nestled around a table in the bar in a similar arrangement to the very first night you’d been introduced to the group. There’s only two empty seats left conveniently, right next to each other. You don’t miss that mischievous look of success on Robin’s face as she looks overly proud of herself.

They’d set it up so we’d sit next to each other. 

You’re grateful for your friends’ antics until you go to take the empty seat next to Steve.

“Is that Eddie’s shirt?” 

Robin is leaning around Steve eagerly as she says it, ridiculing the shirt intensely. 

“What?” you laugh nervously, looking down and tugging at the fabric. 

Lie. Make up a lie. Make it good. 

“That is Eddie’s shirt,” Nancy looks surprised across the table, looking up at the two of you questioningly. 

“What?” you repeat yourself. Eddie has already taken his seat, and is avoiding the stares of everyone, “No, it’s not.” 

“He has one just like it,” Jonathan adds fuel to the fire, “He literally wore it - what? Two days ago?” 

In a pathetic attempt of an excuse, you plop down in your seat and force an offended look, “People can own the same shirt. He’s not the gatekeeper of-” you look down, and nearly erupt in embarrassment when you see what the shirt is. “Deftones.” 

Ah, fuck. 

It’s not just the embarrassment of being on the verge of getting caught in your lie – it’s the memories that flood back. You, on Eddie’s lap. Your mouth and his becoming one. Steve calling, and you sucking so innocently on Eddie’s neck. 

Fuck. 

You really wish Steve and Robin hadn’t interrupted earlier. 

“It’s not like I got it at a show,” Eddie shrugs, and you wonder for a moment if he’s lying, “They’ve gotten more popular lately. I’ve seen their shit in Target.” 

“Exactly!” you exclaim a little too loudly, a little too quick to defend yourself, “Exactly. I just thought it looked cool at Target. Besides, tonight is about Argyle.”

You smile at the birthday boy, and he returns the joy as he waves a little at you. The reminder is all it takes for everyone’s attention to return to the focus of the night – everyone’s attention but Nancy’s. 

You can feel her eyes on you as conversation sparks up and debates of ordering shots begin. Everyone is busy asking Argyle what his plans for next weekend are – which are mostly composed of normal family gatherings, probably a homemade cake, etc. – but Nancy is watching you and Eddie like a hawk. In the peripheral of your eye, you watch the way she leans back so casually into Jonathan's around her shoulder, looking like she knows. You’re probably just being paranoid. You’re definitely just being paranoid. 

You try to ignore it, and instead let yourself just enjoy the moment. All your friends gathered, a group in which you finally feel like you belong to, jokes being made and laughter being exchanged that has you feeling a bit giddy. It’s nice. Even between the smoke of the room and the flickering lights overhead, murmuring chatter of nearby patrons mingling right in with your group’s noise, it’s homely. The smell of drunken cigars and fruity cocktails should be overwhelming, but you just let it wrap you up instead. 

And when you turn your head, inhaling deeply the smell of cinnamon and musk rather than all those other foreign anomalies, you find Eddie already looking at you. Soft eyes, bitten grin, a few loose curls framing his cheeks as his bangs curl up into his forehead. Even in the shoddy lighting, he takes your breath away. 

He’s looking at you. Just like that first night. Dozens of other people in this room at this moment, and he only has eyes for one – he only has eyes for you.

“So!” Argyle announces, “I think, my dudes, instead of doing what Birdie had so… excitedly suggested,” and oh, he was being generous and calling Robin suggesting he took twenty three shots for his twenty third birthday just her being excited rather than foolish, “We should just take the twenty three shots and split them up amongst the group.” 

Steve and Jonathan immediately groan, protesting how they’re driving, and Eddie only shakes his head with a chuckle. So far, he’d only ordered and been nursing on a plain coke, no whiskey. 

Somehow, sitting beside him with the group is worse than keeping distance. 

When he’d taken off his jacket, you’d silently begged for him to rest an arm across the back of your chair just as Jonathan was doing to Nancy. And he had, almost too naturally before he’d caught himself. It would have been easier to play off cooly, probably would have gone unnoticed, but your boy had practically jumped out of his bones as he’d flinched and tucked his arm back into himself suddenly. He’d even bumped his elbow against his own seat in his haste.

And Nancy had noticed. 

“That’s only three shots per person!” Argyle defends, “Four for me, since you know – birthday boy.” 

While Eddie may be avoiding alcohol tonight, you aren’t. Not unusual, but it had been odd when Eddie had told the waitress your order of an amaretto sour rather than you telling her yourself. 

Another strike. Another thing Nancy had noticed with her watchful eye.

“I’m down,” you shrug, “Hell, I’ll even take an extra shot if those two dumbasses won’t.” 

“Is that a good idea?” 

You wish Eddie had been drinking to excuse his idiocracy. Because all it takes is him saying that, not with malice but with concern, and the look on Nancy’s face told you she was officially catching on.

He hadn’t said it with the concern of a friend prepared to warn against drinking yourself sick. He’d said it with the concern of someone who would be taking care of you by the end of the night, of someone who would be dealing with the aftermath of that many shots. 

You two were bombing this whole secrecy, to put it lightly. 

You try to save the moment but laughing it off, turning to him slightly and teasing, “What, are you my keeper now?” 

Despite your best efforts, the statement doesn’t come across as friendly banter. It’s not quite fighting either. It’s a dare, you dangling something in Eddie’s face that no one else at this table quite sees. A stupid, idiotic continuation of your flirtatious game of cat and mouse from earlier in the apartment, when he’d deliberately gotten you hot and bothered. When he’d deliberately let you leave in his shirt. His palm is warm when he shifts ever so slightly, placing it on your thigh beneath the table. Out of sight from everyone else. Fueling and fanning all your growing flames. 

You two were toeing a very dangerous line tonight. 

His eyes darken a bit, and you pray no one else notices in the dim bar lighting, “I don’t know, am I?” 

Everyone is distracted enough with your idea. Steve and Jonathan were agreeing, saying they could take one shot and then others in the group could shoulder the extras. Robin was quick to also say she’ll take an extra one. But Nancy is silent, watching your quiet exchange with Eddie. 

“I don’t think you are, Munson.”

Except he is. Without a single doubt in your bones, you know that he is. 

Your playful smile betrays you. It tugs up the corners of your mouth and it’s clear to any outsider this wasn’t a brewing argument. The game was obvious if anyone was watching close enough. And Nancy, ever the smart one, was watching close enough. 

She’s playing her cards right, you realize, when she waits until the group has ordered the round of shots to say anything. 

“So, Eddie,” she begins, drawing the entire group’s attention to her best friend, “Do anything fun today?” 

He nearly chokes on his coke subtly. “I- Um-” 

“You just didn’t answer any of my texts today,” she continues on, “Must have been busy, yeah?” 

Eddie retracts his hand from your thigh, far more elusive in this action than he had been about removing his arm from your chair, before he fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Yeah – no, yeah. Sorry about that, Nance.” 

He pulls his phone from his pocket for no apparent reason. The shiny new smartphone, having not even bought a case or screen protector yet. You’d already yelled at him for that, claiming out of everyone, you trust him the least to not break the phone on the first day. He’d only laughed and shut you up with a kiss. 

His new phone is placed face down on the table, cherry red glinting, “I just had to go to the mall and-”

“Is that a new phone?” Argyle interrupts him, catching sight of the movement and the glinting, “Oh, holy shit, my dude! That’s a new phone! That is an iPhone if I’ve ever seen one!” 

Everyone – Robin, Steve, Jonathan – are rapidly leaning to catch sight of it as if they can’t believe it. Eddie continues to shrink at being the center of attention suddenly. 

“It is,” Steve laughs in disbelief, “Never thought I’d see the day, Munson.” 

Robin scrunches her face, “Does this mean we have to add him to the group chat?” 

You let out a giggle at that, lips pressed to try and contain some of that smile breaking through as you look at him and wiggle your brows. He immediately rolls his eyes, but picks up the phone regardless to give everyone a better look. 

“Yes, yes. I’ve finally joined the dark side,” he teases everyone just as the waitress returns with the tray of shots. Jonathan is the only one with enough sense to look away from Eddie’s spectacle, thanking her kindly, “Feast your eyes, my friends, for this is where my five hundred dollars went-” 

“Holy shit.” 

Nancy’s sudden whisper of an exclamation has everyone freezing. Eddie stops spinning and flipping the phone to show it off, staring at her with nothing but concerned, “What? What happen-” 

Nancy shares a look with Robin as they both grin.

Oh no. 

“Eddie,” Nancy says slowly, turning her head back his way slowly. 

“What?” Eddie frowns, eyes flitting back and forth between Nancy and Robin.

Robin is the one to ask the question rather than Nancy, “What exactly is your lockscreen?” 

Eddie goes pale. You’re confused, looking at the phone he’s currently cradling with the screen against his palm. 

Did he even change it? Wouldn’t it just be one of the default ones? 

“Guys,” you decide to come to his rescue, still impossibly confused, “It’s probably just some default screen, don’t tease him.” 

“That was not a default screen,” Nancy laughs out. 

Argyle looks around at everyone. Nancy and Robin, both with mischievous glints in their eyes. Eddie, still ghostly white as if he’s been caught red-handed. Steve and Jonathan, both just shrugging at each other. “Uh…. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”

“Show the class your lock screen, Eds.”

“Fuck off, Nancy.” 

“Oh my God,” Robin coos, leaning across Steve and pressing you back gently to catch sight of Eddie, who’s dipping his face down, “He’s blushing!” 

“Guys, leave him alone,” Steve insists, sharing a look with you now. But you have no clue what’s going on.

You have no clue what his lockscreen is. 

“Edward Munson, show us that lockscreen right now, or I’m Venmo-requesting five hundred dollars from you,” Robin continues to threaten. 

You look away from Steve and at Eddie immediately, leaning in closer to his space. He looks at you, clearly focusing on your presence more than everyone else’s, and smiles like a child trying to get out of trouble. 

“Eddie,” you say quietly, almost impossible for your friends to hear, “What the fuck is your lockscreen?” 

He slowly and carefully turns the screen towards you, making sure only your eyes can see it, and- oh.

It’s a low quality photo. Clearly taken on his flip phone. Details just a little fuzzy, and the darkness of the photo wasn’t helping. But you can see it clearly. You can make out exactly what it was that had Nancy and Robin losing their minds. 

It’s a picture of you and Eddie, with your head on Eddie’s chest.

For a moment, everyone else at the table doesn’t exist. You hadn’t been insane that night – he had taken a photo. A snapshot of the moment where everything had changed. The moment in which you had given up the fight and completely succumbed to just how much Eddie meant to you, how badly you pined for him and how deeply you liked him. 

“I was going to make it the one of you at Betty’s,” he whispers, “But, I just- I really liked this photo.” 

He’s still tense, as if he expects you to be upset with him. 

You’re the farthest thing from upset at him. 

“You made me your lockscreen?” you breathe out, a slow-growing smile beginning to stretch your lips. 

You’re not upset at him. As a matter of fact, you’re in love with him. You want to scream it from every rooftop, shout it to every stranger on the street – you are in love with Eddie Munson.

And you have been for a while. You just hadn’t found a way to tell him yet.

“Yeah,” he loosens up a little when he realizes you’re happy, enamored with the fact, “Yeah, of course I did. Who else am I going to make it besides my favorite…. Enemy?” 

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear clearly. All of Nancy’s teasing has come to a halt, Robin has settled back into her chair, and Steve is finally looking too curious for his own good. 

“As birthday boy,” Argyle breaks the moment, shatters away the bubble you and Eddie always seemed to end up in, “I am demanding I get to see this lockscreen.” 

Eddie doesn’t make any move to show the screen to any other person, only watching you for approval. 

Well, so much for next time. 

You give him a little nod. 

Eddie makes a dramatic show of it, sighing heavily before he very slowly turns his lockscreen to face everyone else. But even in his dramatics, you can see that weight lifting off his chest.

This, as a matter of fact, changes everything. 

No more hiding, no more lying. One simple flash of his phone screen, of a photo he had taken on a night that no one has even been gifted the details of yet, and all your friends suddenly know.

The reactions all vary. 

Argyle leans forward and squints before his face breaks out into pure joy for the two of you, “Oh, fuck yes! Best birthday gift ever. Pay up, my dudes!” 

Jonathan leans backward, digging out his wallet as he murmurs, “Son of a bitch.” 

Steve only smiles and shakes his head, also digging for his wallet as he seemingly chastizes himself, “I should have fucking known.” 

“Hold on,” you look between everyone as Jonathan digs out a couple twenties, “Wait, did you guys fucking bet on this?” 

“We did,” Robin answers you, holding up a hand to make Jonathan and Steve pause their retrieval of cash, “What do you take us for? Idiots? Now, gentlemen, before either of you payout, we’ve gotta ask the most important question,” she shoves a palm against Steve’s chest so that he’s out of line of sight, gaze set on you and Eddie, “When did this happen?” 

You don’t have any time to be mad at your friends. Because when Robin asks you this, suddenly you’re back to two months ago. You’re outside your dorm with Eddie, kissing him as if tomorrow would never be promised, and you’re home. 

You pulled back from Eddie finally, both of you gasping for breath as he held you steady. Your exchange from moments before still hung heavy in the air. 

You liked him, you liked him, you liked him. 

And the feeling was mutual. 

You’d already known, but it was nice to hear. It was nice to be reminded that this, what had happened between you two, was so very real. 

“I don’t wanna start over,” the words tumbled from your tongue before you could consider them, upheaving from your chest, desperate for Eddie to heard them, “I- I don’t need to start over. I like our story, okay? You had been right – it wasn’t all bad, and… and I don’t want to start over. I never want you to be a stranger again, and I know that sounds stupid-” 

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupted you, forehead meeting yours, “So very not stupid.” 

“I don’t care if you were a dick,” you continued on, carefully, “I was, too. We were both… shitty. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you a thousand times over, as long as you keep trying to make it up to me.” 

“Make it up to you?” he grinned playfully, “And just how do you suggest I start making it up to you?” 

“Ask me out,” his eyebrows raised in surprise, and you knew you must have looked like a wild idiot to everyone else, but you didn’t care, “To dinner, to a movie, to just hang around your apartment with you for another twenty four hours – I don’t care. Just… Just please, Munson, ask me out.” 

And so he had. A first date, a second date, a third. You two had gone through the entire ordeal of every cliche relationship despite the unconventional beginning. You’d gone to dinner, you’d gone to a movie, and you had done plenty of hanging out around his apartment and more. 

“The night of the bet,” Eddie answers as he finally brings an arm up around your shoulders, just as he had wanted to earlier. 

Immediately, both Robin and Argyle let out their own curses, pulling out their wallets just as Steve and Jonathan had. 

You look between them, all the annoyance you should feel just being run over with adoration for these idiots. Your eyes land on Nancy, and when you realize she’s the only one at the table not coughing up any cash, you ask her, “I’m assuming you guessed correctly?” 

“I did,” she nods, looking proud of herself. 

“How’d you know?” 

Nancy raises a threatening finger, before suddenly pointing it right in Eddie’s direction, “That idiot has always been down bad for you-”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie stops her, “I’ve already told her the nitty gritty details. No need to embarrass me.” 

“No need to embarrass you?” Nancy asks in disbelief, “Good God, just how many times did I have to sit and listen to you pine for her? No, no – I have earned this, Munson.” 

You look at Eddie, a glint in your eye, “You only told me about the first time.”

“I only remembered the first time,” he counters, blushing under yellow and faded lights, “I was usually dru-”

“Don’t lie,” Nancy stops him, “There were plenty of rants where you were dead sober.” 

Everyone only smiles at Eddie, a few teasing comments made his way, but none of them matter as you lean into his side, your shoulder bumping his to the best of your ability with his arm still around you.

“Aw, babe,” you coo, warm all over for the man beside you, “You had a crush on me? That’s cute.” 

His chin lowers, eyes boring into yours with unlimited affection. For a moment, it’s just you and Eddie. The guise of you two having your own bubble of a moment. 

His head tilts further, his ears brushing your ear as he whispers for just you to hear, “So did you, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“Not mistaken,” you whisper back. Money is now being exchanged, tossed across the table with grumbles that hold no heat. 

Yeah, you did have a crush on Eddie. You still do. You don’t think you’ll ever stop having a crush on him, even as he’s surrendered himself as yours. Especially not when his thumb is stroking your shoulder as it is now. 

Just like that very first night. The smoky bar fades to nothingness, your tunnel vision focused on Eddie. You know jokes are being made about the two of you by your friends, but it’s all white noise when he’s looking at you like this. Like you’re everything to him, like he’s just returned home after a long week. 

You’d really like to be his home to return to after every long week, for the rest of your lives, but there’ll be time to ponder on that later. For now, you two have time. 

The voice inside your head suddenly comes to life as it recognizes that this is your moment. You can tell him. Now that you’ve told everyone else, you can tell him those three words. Finally get them off your chest. Make it real. 

“Hey, Munson,” you say, still quiet enough for the words to only reach his ears. He perks up, eager to drink your next words. You have all his attention. You always have all his attention, “I-” and then you choke. He stares curiously for a few seconds, and the words just won’t come out. You want to scream – you wonder if it would work if you screeched the three words at the top of your lungs. Probably not, “I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me,” a pathetic excuse at a coverup,  “And… I’m really glad they made that first bet.” 

He smiles so softly, it strikes you right in the center of your chest. Right amongst your garden that not only had you tended for him, but that he had also had a hand in watering these last few months. 

You should have told him. You love him, and you should have told him. 

“I’m really glad I didn’t hate you, too,” he remarks, squeezing your shoulder a little tighter, “Actually, I’m glad you don’t hate me. Not anymore, at least.” 

“I never really did.”

“You definitely sort of did. You tried to take me out with a glass, remember?” 

You burst into secluded laughter, hearing your friends beginning to pass around the shots but paying them no mind. 

Eddie can’t help it. He pulls you in close, placing an impulsive kiss to your temple and letting his lips linger there. Just pressed against you, breathing in the scent of you. 

That kiss sends shivers down your spine, warmth through the center of your bones. You love him. 

You love him, you love him, you love him. 

So why can’t you just tell him that?

“Aw!” Robin pulls the two out of your bubble, “Aren’t they just adorable?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve passes two shot glasses down to your end of the table, “Absolutely adorable. It’s nauseating. Also, I’d like to go on record – I totally knew the entire time. I was just giving them the benefit of the doubt.” 

“Playing the Devil’s advocate?” Argyle asks, lining up his multiple shots, “I dig it. Even though you’re totally lying right now.” 

“You’re so lucky it’s your birthday, dude,” Steve rolls his eyes, clearly holding back an insult. 

Eddie’s arm stays heavy on you, a welcome weight as you sit up straighter to take your own several shots. 

These were your friends. Somewhere you belonged, filled with people you loved and a boy you could come home to after all your long weeks. A certain happiness that is rare, and impossible to place, and can nearly bring you to tears overwhelms you as you grab that first shot. 

“Also-” Steve turns to you and Eddie, “I knew that was Munson’s shirt. The day he got it, all he did was brag about what a rare find it was. Fuck off with your Target bullshit.” 

Eddie’s hand leaves your shoulder long enough to reach out and thump Steve, laughter booming and vibrating against you, “Sure you did, Stevie.” 

“Target has some nice things,” Nancy offers with a shrug, now holding her own shot glass. 

The seven of you all hold up the first of what will probably be too many shots tonight, the beginning of a night that will probably be remembered through killer hangovers tomorrow and possibly even captured on camera by the likes of Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie. 

“To Argyle,” you take the lead on the cheers, jittery and anxious as all the love you continue to withhold buzzes in your chest, lifting your small glass in his direction, “The most lovable twenty three year old I know.” 

Everyone moves to drink, but Argyle immediately shakes his head, “Nah, fuck that. It’s not even my birthday yet – I demand a new toast.” 

He lifts his brows, staring you down and silently adding, you know what to do. 

And yeah, you did know what to do. 

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, leaning further forward, Eddie’s arm following. You relish in the tense silence as everyone waits for what you’re about to say instead. Even Eddie is waiting with bated breath, watching your every move, a contrasting yet easy smile on his face, “To bets.” 

A booming applause from your group. Glasses tapping against the wooden table before shots are downed. Groans of disgust as the tequila hits everyones’ tongues. 

Eddie hardly waits before you’ve both swallowed to remove his arm and grab your face, turning your cheek so that his lips can capture yours. Everyone only cheers louder, Steve letting out an obnoxious whistle as Argyle claps. You’re surely going to get kicked out of the bar at this rate. But you really don’t care as you kiss your boy back. 

Next time. You have to tell him next time. 

—

The night ends in more of a whisper than a bang, surprisingly. 

Everyone has suddenly become a happy drunk, probably from all the love and good news passed around throughout the night. It’s all warm feelings and warm hugs, tequila on the breath and love on the mind. 

You don’t even get kicked out of the bar. Your waitress only smiles at your rowdy table from time to time, and you figure that all the good vibes must be rubbing off on her. 

Steve is the first to call it quits. Robin has drank enough to give herself the hiccups, and he says that after that, she almost always gets viciously nauseous. He wants to get in the car and home before she gets to the point, for the sake of his car’s interior not getting covered in puke.

It’s a domino effect from there.

Argyle quickly agrees, Jonathan offers a guiding arm to Nancy, and Eddie’s arm only tightens around you. The group closes out the tab, putting off worries of everyone paying Jonathan back until tomorrow. Quick, simple, painless. 

Until you all get outside. And goodbyes are exchanged – that’s not the part that gets to you – with promises of seeing each other throughout the week. Everyone congratulates you and Eddie one more time for good measure, Nancy and Steve looking the most proud of you two as Argyle and Robin giggle like children about it. And it’s fine – you laugh along and it’s all good. You let them get in all their I told you so’s and know it’s all in good fun. 

It’s all fine. Until you two branch off from the group, Eddie’s bike across the lot from everyone else’s cars. 

The moment you two are alone, you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or if it’s the levity of suddenly having a moment that only belongs to you. Your mind wastes no time of reminding you of your pathetic cop out: I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me. None of those words even sound akin to the real ones you should have said.

I love you. 

It’s not because your friends have found out. You know it’s not that, because just last week, right after your breakdown about whether you were smothering Eddie by half-living in his apartment, you’d had a breakdown because you realized you wanted to fully live in his apartment. You’d had a breakdown because you hadn’t grown tired of him yet, hadn’t satisfied the need to see his face every morning when you first wake up yet. You hadn’t gotten bored with all his lingering affectionate touches. You hadn’t gotten used to the way he’d kiss you in the middle of sentences. He was still taking your breath away, two months later, and you had a breakdown because you realized it wasn’t novelty or a pathetic crush making you feel this way.

You had a breakdown because you love Eddie. 

You love him, ardently so, and you still can’t find the right moment to say those words to him. He deserves to know – the entire foundation of this relationship was honesty.

It’s all you can think about as his hand finds yours and he’s walking up to his bike, practically dragging you up to his bike as your legs forget how to work amongst nerves. 

“So, I was thinking,” he carries on conversation so casually, “You want to spend the night at my place? I know you said you don’t have any class-“ 

Now. Not later, not next time. Now. 

“Hey, Eddie?” you interrupt him, stopping the two of you a few paces away from his bike. 

His face is impossibly concerned as he looks down at you, clearly reading the worry on your face, “What’s up, babe?” 

Here goes nothing – be brave.

“I-” 

Why is this so hard? 

It shouldn’t be this hard, because loving Eddie is easy. 

It’s easy when he’s looking at you like this, like he always does. It’s easy when he wakes up after you, and he comes into the kitchen to just wrap himself around you as you make him coffee, no matter what time of day it might be. It’s easy when he catches your eye from across the room during outings, sometimes winking once he knows you’ve found his gaze, just to see you laugh. It’s easy when he tries to distract you from homework when you’ve been spending far too many hours hunched over your laptop on his couch, coming and bugging you, laying his head on your lap and insisting his girl needs a break. It’s easy when he kisses you and everything just feels right. 

It’s easy. He loves you – you love him.  It isn’t hard. You’re making this hard, when it never was. 

“I love you,” you admit quietly, voice shaking as the words leave you easily. 

Loving Eddie is easy. 

“I love you,” you say more surely, voice raising in volume as you find the willpower to look into his eyes, “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.” 

Each time you say it, you gain confidence in it. It’s true – you love him. You love him so much, it encompasses every inch of your being. It entirely consumes you. You love him. 

His face falls slowly, mouth agape and eyes boring into yours.

You don’t wait for his response. You already have it – in the way he’s still holding your hand, in the way he holds you at the end of each night, in the way he knows both your orders at bars and coffee shops. In the way he will always put himself between you and the street when walking down the sidewalk, in the way when he roughly stops his bike at stop lights that his hand always flies back to hold onto you. In every soft touch and every expression of devotion he has offered you for not just two months, but for over a year. 

“You love me?” he softly asks, finally beginning to come back to life. 

You nod without hesitation, “I love you, Eddie.” 

Now that you’ve started saying it, you can’t stop it. And each time, it’s still heavy and sweet like honey, even as the confession comes as easy as breathing. It’s pouring from every crevice, filling up the night air around you. 

He takes you off guard with a harsh kiss. His teeth colliding with yours, his breath stealing yours, his entire being molded with yours. 

“Say it again,” he begs in a murmur as he pulls you in even closer, desperate as you break into a smile, “God, please say it again, sweetheart.” 

“I love you,” your cheeks begin to ache, the kiss no longer even to be a considered a kiss as you two are just mindlessly pressing your smiles together, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” with each repeat of the sentiment, Eddie drinks it in, “I’m so fucking in love with you, Eddie Munson. You and your stupid lockscreen and-”

“You do not think my lockscreen is stupid,” he pulls away, raising his eyebrows as his palms squish your cheeks, “I saw the way you looked at me. You were eating that shit up.” 

You bite your lip, trying to pull further away from him, but he won’t let you, “I was not-”

“You were,” he cheekily teases, eyes bright as he looks at you, “You were, and it was the best thing ever. Totally worth stealing Argyle’s spotlight.” 

“We didn’t steal Argyle’s spotlight,” you try to defend yourself. 

“We so did.”

You shake your head to the best of your abilities, face still between his hands, “We… Okay, we sort of did.”

He grins like a young boy, all his youth and all his love on show for you as he leans down, pausing right before pressing another kiss to your lips, “We definitely did. And it’s fair, because they fucking bet on us.” 

“They did,” you agree, not even feeling guilty anymore, too consumed by the love for the man right in front of you, “They tend to do that a lot, don’t they?” 

“They do.” 

He finally surges forward, lips sealing against yours one last time. It’s less messy this time, more meaningful. A bit more patient as he takes the time to fit his lips into yours, just as they should be. 

You have an audience. You’re completely oblivious until you hear the cheering from across the parking lot, snapping apart to both glance at where Argyle and Robin are jumping up and down, screaming their heads off. 

“Hell yeah, my dudes!” Argyle’s voice booms as Robin only produces incoherent coos to echo. 

Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan are all just watching silently, shaking their heads, but you can also see their grins. Almost as radiant as you felt.

Steve finally cups his hands around his mouth, sending his voice to you over Argyle’s continuing whooping, “Get a room!” 

Perfectly in sync, you and Eddie both throw up a hand with your middle fingers raised in their direction, still half tangled in each other. 

Your eyes find Nancy. She’s looking at you two with overwhelming pride, a certain satisfaction that breathes out the relief of finally. This may be a weight off not only your chest but Eddie’s as well, yet you can’t help but imagine just how she feels. How many nights she had stomached Eddie’s rambles about you leading up to this very moment. The pay off must be unimaginable. 

Finally. 

“Congrats on finally getting the girl, Munson!” she calls out, but her eyes are on you, winking. 

You see it now. Why they’re best friends. How all her best parts and Eddie’s best parts overlap and compliment one another perfectly. 

Jonathan is the final one to yell across the parking lot at you two, one arm slung around Nancy as the other moves to unlock his car, even his usually grumpy face showing signs of elation in that timid smile, “Now take your girl, home, dude. Spare the rest of us the gory details.” 

Eddie’s laugh reverberates against you physically from how he holds you, also making its way to burrow deep within your chest where all that liquid bliss belongs, as he throws his entire head back and makes you finally focus on just him again. Home. Not just his apartment, but him. You realize now that it’s simply wherever he goes. Where he leads, you’ll follow. It could be a shitty dorm room with a mattress that leaves your back aching, it could be a comforting apartment that holds you ‘hostage’ for twenty four hours straight – it doesn’t really matter. Wherever he is, home is. He’s your home; you love him, he knows you love him, and he’s your home. 

When his laughter finally fades, and he’s looking at you again, his dimples are prominent as ever through his whisper, “Just in case you’ve forgotten – I’m very much in love with you, too, sweetheart.” 

His lips meet yours for good measure. 

It’s been the longest week of your life, the longest year, but you’re finally home.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

[hiael]

Obey Me! Headcanons that the voices in my head created

The pact marks don't affect the MC in general, but when they are used, the color of the user's eyes tends to change to the color of sin (when Solomon sees the color of his eyes changing to the colors of his brothers, geez, jealousy boy), it happens more often than you think and in addition to the marks on the body, it's a reminder to everyone that you're connected with the lords of hell.

Human beings can speak very quickly and neither demons nor angels can keep up when this happens. Scientifically, we talk fast because of anxiety, nervousness, excitement or the communication conditions that the environment provides. Solomon and MC talking about something they thought was cool during the tea? For the others it becomes a RAP battle and all they can hear is "hum, nah, ha, hehe", the rest is indecipherable. More than once, during a presentation or debate in class, MC was told to shut the fuck up or slow down so that everyone could understand.

All material related to the history of the human world is more or less 100 to 200 years out of date in the library. Satan is slowly trying to update this, but they think that 200 years is almost nothing for humans to change, so unlike technology (which they think they created with magic) they just don't care. A new iPhone ok, now the human being landed on the moon during a bloodless war? Their lie, do you still believe what mortals say?

Humans sleep more than angels and demons, but even less than demons from the circle of laziness. MC, Solomon and Belphie (and sometimes Luke) usually sleep in some places at RAD during and between classes.

All exchange students have their own fan club. Luke's must be the quietest, everyone friendly and kind so as not to disappoint the little angel. Did you see him walking past you today, sad that he hadn't managed to buy a keyring at the RAD art fair? Bitch surprise, his fan club are still demons, the keyring will mysteriously appear on his desk in the classroom written "To Luke, a little big ray of sunshine in our lives" and the person who bought it has left the RAD, anyone know why?

Still on the subject of fan clubs, we're not talking about Solomon's. If the number of demons he has a pact with isn't enough of a warning, there are others walking around in capes and blouses as if they were cosplayers and sending letters to his house with phrases like 'roses are red, violets are blue, can we make a pact? Signed: Demon X' should be a better warning

And to end the fan clubs, MC's are trained in the art of being meticulous, a silent army that lives in the shadows - meaning they are in the devildom version of twitter. Lots of photos taken on the sly, fanart of all kinds, fanfics, merchandise and videos edits of (and when were they sheep? There are millions and millions of images circulating out there). Ever wondered why Miss Em sold so much? The MC fandom. They won't compete with anyone for their attention, the sweet human is simply appreciated the way they are (and they don't want to be on the brothers' list to "get away from the MC"). The Human Appreciation Club was not approved by the student council and they removed their devilpedia page, but that didn't erase these demons desire to idolize MCs. Live, love and laugh for MC, the way simps are.

At some point, the Real or Cake trend went crazy until Luke, who started making desserts that looked like everyday things, only stopped after surprising Simeon by cutting a cell phone-shaped cake (Simeon tried to break his with his hand after that, thinking it was cake. He spent 3 weeks without a phone)

Every time MC returns from a trip to the human world, they have to bring a suitcase just with souvenirs from there. Luckily, it can be anything they find fun, like a frog-shaped coaster, a jar of M&Ms with a pinwheel on top, a whole corn cake, a tie with a motivational quote, a children's book, or a coin of a specific year. Everyone just loves the fact that MC was thinking of them and they love using the gift they received. Barbatos's favorite tea set is now a completely transparent one with gold floral details.

Children's cartoons from 1940 still show on Devildom TV and Beel watches while eating or working out.

Lucifer has a family photo inside his wallet, Mammon once tried to steal his credit card, he was so shocked that he ended up screaming, he was caught and punish. Neither of them mention the photo.

[neoplatinum]

mission: gmag | kim minji

summary: coworkers fall in love, very oddly...

pairing: barista!minji x barista!reader

themes: HUMOR, coworkers to lovers, slow-burn, fluff...like tooth-rotting sweetness, rest of newjeans!, major loser reader

wc: 5.4k

"no, listen to me, it's M I N," sakura is so over this, honestly. but you promised to buy her a new controller for her switch if she helped you, so she goes through with it.

"m...i...n..." sakura types slowly as she scrolls with a glass of water in one hand.

"ji," you continue quickly.

"what was that?" she asks and looks up at you.

"j...i. j for james and i for like iphone, i dont know." sakura nods and returns back to typing.

"okay okay, minji.....minji...kim minji....i found her!" sakura flips her phone to show you the girl's instagram page.

you squint at sakura's shaky hands.

"stop, stop. I can't see with your hands shaking all over." sakura frowns at you and tries pulling her phone away. but you're quick to grab it out of your hands. feeling like you've hit the jackpot.

"yes! it's her!"

sakura rolls her eyes and grabs more chips from the coffee table, popping them into her mouth as you happily scroll through your coworker's public instagram page.

"you know you could just talk to her right? like at work...where you both work together in that cramped barista station."

"kkura, you really aren't helping." you mumble as you hit one of the posts of minji at the beach; she's smiling and showing off her cute brown dog. you had overheard minji talking with another worker about her family's brown mini poodle. "that must be choco."

"what i also don't understand is why you're looking her up, on MY phone. when you have a perfectly working phone." sakura continues to eat through the family size bag of lays.

you scoff and pull the blanket off of sakura's legs. "what if one day she asks me to exchange socials and she sees that i've searched her up already? i can't let that happen."

you roll your eyes like it's the most obvious reason.

"wow, i thought i was a loser, but this really takes the cake." she shakes at the bag for more lays and returns her attention to the show thats been playing in the background.

you pay sakura no mind as you now have found yourself happily going through her page. examining each post closely and even going through her tagged photos for more information.

"okay, stop, this is just creepy. you're like a cyber-stalker." sakura yanks her phone out of your hand and pushes your chest away to knock you off your balance. you topple over like a bowling pin. "don't forget you have to buy me new controllers for this!"

sakura leaves with her phone in hand, probably off to phone her friends, leaving you all alone in the apartment with whatever show's been playing.

"what a cockblock." you mutter out as you finish up the lays bag and crumple it, getting ready to go to bed. you let out a long yawn that turns into a groan until the air has left your lungs. now you're coughing like a mad man trying to drink water, you finally cool down.

--

"welcome to milk mocha!" minji shouts from behind the counters, you successfully arrive just shy of 15 minutes late for your shift.

"oh, you're here." minji comments when she looks up from behind the espresso machine and glances at you. you grimace at the dismissive tone, but all minji can see is your hair all over the place and shirt worn inside out and backwards.

needless to say, you pressed snooze a few times too many, and now you're paying the consequences.

"i am so so so sorry minji, i slept past my alarm." you beg for forgiveness and start spewing about how you tripped over your charging cable, accidentally burned your tongue during breakfast, wore wet socks. and minji's heard enough already.

"okay, lets just...get you set up. you're lucky it's slow right now." she ushered you into the staff room and your heart warms at how considerate she is. even feeling a little lovesick that she hasn't written you up for tardiness.

"you're the best minji!" you shout over your shoulder as you change into the work shirt and tie an apron around your waist. horrified to find the tag of your t-shirt facing the world.

you try brushing your hair as best as you can, then tucking into your work cap. you walk out onto the floor and see a few customers around. no one seems to be ordering and you thank the coffee gods for this opportunity.

"soooo minji...." you start, as you wipe down the counters.

"yes?" she's busy cleaning the machines in the meantime and checking that there's enough supplies in the mini fridge.

you turn to her and smile widely, "are you single?"

she stops what she's doing and turns to you. "yes, why do you ask?" in the most monotone voice you've ever heard.

you wonder if minji was a robot in her past life.

"oh, no reason, just curious, hehe." you mumble to yourself and minji looks at you confused but then a customer walks in.

"welcome to milk mocha! how can i help you?" you begin and take the guy's order.

minji's walked away to get ready for the lunch rush, but mostly to think about your question.

--

"hanni, listen to me, the girl's weird." minji says over facetime. hanni's laying on her back scrolling through instagram and nodding along to whatever minji's ranting about.

"mhm, mhm." hanni finds a cute cat video and sends it to haerin.

"she asked me today if i was single."

"mhm."

"and like, why would you ever ask your coworker that? i think that's weird, like she's crossing work boundaries you know?"

"mhm."

"bro! are you even listening?" minji starts tapping at the screen, taking hanni's attention away from the many cat videos.

"yes bro! something about being single?" hanni only spares her some attention before returning back to her cat videos.

"yes! she asked me if i was single!"

hanni looks back into the small rectangular box that minji is in, "okay, i dont see a problem."

haerin sends over a funny gif of fluffy dogs tripping. hanni laughs while minji continues to rant about her new coworker.

then a random notification pops up.

[hairein]: "HI ITS HYEIN HI HI HI"

hyein must have taken haerin's phone and has begun spamming through all the group chats that haerin has. hanni decides that's enough scrolling for a day.

hanni closes her instagram to focus on the conversation, also muting haerin's account for good measure.

"i don't think it's weird that she asked if you're single. if you find someone weird, then of course you're going to think everything they do is weird." hanni continues as she sits up and pulls her self to her desk.

minji goes quiet, thinking about her own views on her new coworker. she's between reasoning that it's okay that she thinks you're weird, but she also feels bad because maybe you two just got off on the wrong foot.

she's never considered giving you a real chance to prove yourself. when you walked in two weeks ago for your first shift with a huge staff in hand (you were going to a convention later cosplaying as maki from jjk) minji already knew to stay away from you.

it doesn't help that the other people at work also thought you were weird. later that shift, your manager reprimanded you for showing up to work with a weapon; you profusely apologized and tried to show that it was just a foam staff. all the other workers already looked at you weirdly though, so maybe minji just followed along.

"well now i feel bad." minji concludes as hanni watches her through the screen.

"good! be more open-minded next time." hanni concludes and hangs up on minji immediately. minji on the other end drops her jaw and curses hanni through the phone.

--

"order for jay!" you shout from the counter, wiping down the americano. minji's shift just started but you're already elbow deep in your shift. it seems that friday's are always busy at miilk mocha. everyone is scrambling to get these orders out as quick as possible.

you look more tired for today's shift, constantly rubbing at your eyes and yawning when no one's looking. kazuha seems concerned that you're so tired.

"hey, you okay?" kazuha asks when you sit down for a quick break. you nod.

"yeah stayed up playing genshin, you know how things go." you explain and continue rubbing at your eyes. hitting a little too hard that it makes you see stars when you blink.

"you need to stop playing till 4am, you know you have a shift at 7." kazuha explains to you, she's already working on the next order. you take a breather and sip on the coffee you made for yourself.

"it's not my fault that game is so addicting." you explain and stretch your body, getting ready to take on the rest of the orders. minji finally fixes her apron and walks out to see you and kazuha chatting it up.

minji tries inserting herself into the conversation, hoping to see a new side of you that isn't so...peculiar.

"what's genshin?"

"minji! you don't know what genshin is?" you exclaim and begin going on a long rant about the game and it's gacha mechanics. you even begin explaining the pulls you have gotten. by the end of it, minji is even more confused and intrigued by you, also worried about your financial responsibility (lack of) because you really just dropped 300 bucks for in-game content.

--

"how are things with the new girl?" hanni's eating her sandwich and minji can't help but feel down.

minji scratches her neck as she thinks about you, "she's good...explained to me the lore of genshin, and then i found out that the staff that she brought to work on her first day was actually for a cosplay outfit, and not just a weapon she carries around."

hanni nods and grabs minji's drink, taking a sip out of it, "so, she's not that weird, just probably made a poor impression."

"yes, you were right." minji sighs and digs into her sandwich, feeling guilty about making presumptions about you.

"hey, cheer up! it's okay, i had a horrible impression of you when i first met you." hanni drinks the rest of juice and lets out a satisfied "ah." until she realizes it wasn't her drink to begin with.

minji just glares at her, "you better pay me back for that."

"see this is why i didn't like you at first." hanni complains but fishes out a five dollar bill and slaps it into minji's hand.

--

"order for macy." you grab the hot chocolate and place it on the counter. a cute little girl with pigtails walks up to the counter and grabs the hot chocolate, standing on her tippy toes. you look over the counter and aw at the cute kid.

"hi macy, want to see my latte art?" you offer, macy nods enthusiastically, you grin before grabbing the frothing cup and doing a nice rosetta for the girl.

she smiles in awe and you laugh, handing her a free cookie for staying, "don't tell anyone i gave you this, okay?" you offer your pinky finger to the small girl. she pinky swears and tucks the cookie into her jacket pocket before leaving with her hot chocolate in hand.

minji's watching the whole interaction and despite being shift manager and wanting to reprimand you for giving out free sweets to customers without asking firsthand, she doesn't have the heart to ruin the sweet act you just did.

in fact, when you find her staring at you, you let out a sheepish laugh and try to move past the fact you gave away a free cookie.

--

"minji! do you want a burger, or hot dog?" you ask, you've officially dedicated yourself the grill master at the company barbecue. the other employees are busy chatting each other up, but you're manning the grill with a coke zero in hand, and expertly making everyone's orders.

"burger, please." minji walks away from her conversation to watch over you, surprisingly you're good at manning the grill, despite still finding way to trip over nothing during work.

this side is actually quite charming, even if you have those ridiculous frog sunglasses over your eyes.

"how are you doing?" minji asks, she peers over the grill and finds rows and rows of burger patties and hot dogs on the other side. you're expertly checking each burger for doneness and rolling hot dogs to ensure even cooking.

"doing great! all patties and hot dogs are coming out delicious and hot hot hot!" you explain. you turn to her and all she can see are those goofy frog glasses on your face. you give her a smirk before turning back to the grill. "first burger that's done is yours to take, by the way."

minji blushes at the sentiment. "you really don't have to do that. everyone should eat first."

"no can do minji, got to make sure you're well fed." you explain and continue flipping burgers while drinking your coke zero. minji finds it adorable how focused you are at this job, even if no one is expecting stellar quality burgers/hot dogs.

"watch out minji!" your head turns faster and you see a football flying your way, definitely going to hit minji on the head, so you block her from the football, having it land straight into your forehead.

"oof." you land backwards and fall to the grass, now rubbing your forehead from the hit. the other coworkers are running up and checking on you, meanwhile all you can do is ask, "you alright minji? it didn't hit you right?"

she blushes wildly at the question and whispers a quiet "i'm good." while you are being pulled off the ground and everyone asks how you're doing. you make jokes, playing it off, saying you were born with a head harder than bricks. everyone laughs and returns back to what they were doing.

"okay, back to the grill." you brush off the dirt all over your apron, and start humming a song while plating finished burgers, handing the first one to minji. "for you!" you tell minji and she gives a thank you before walking away to eat it.

the rest of the barbecue, minji seems to stick by your side throughout the day. this doesn't go unnoticed by kazuha who saw the whole ordeal. her eyes squinting as she sips on her drink.

--

"zuha zuha! i'm tired!" you exclaim, you're working the earliest shift, you were opener and on food prep for the shift. it's near the middle of your shift when you decide to take your break. both kazuha and minji are busy tending to the coffee shop. you sit on a step stool behind the counter to eat a cold croissant from one of the failed batches.

"go walk around or something, you need to get your blood pumping." she explains and goes into depth about the stretches that would promote blood flow and restore energy to your body. you aren't interested in hearing actual solutions, just wanting to vent.

"no! you can't tell me what to do!" you grumble and stuff more of the croissant in your face, even picking out the ham slice to eat separately. minji finds this all a bit weird, as in weird in her stomach kind of weird. the same kind of weird she feels when someone takes the last bag of chips in the convenience store when she goes up to buy it.

she watches how kazuha is so easily able to grab you by the arm, a boundary that she would never cross. and kazuha is pushing you into the backrooms, while you make kissy faces at kazuha, all of which are being dodgeds left and right. "you love me zuha, just admit it!" you shout before the door is closed on you.

kazuha walks back out to the barista station and smiling at minji before continuing to work, "she's something else." minji just nods and tries to will away that nasty feeling in her gut.

"you know she's my cousin right?" kazuha continues, minji stops what she's doing.

"no, i didn't. wow that makes a lot of sense actually." minji explains, kazuha just laughs at her shocked face.

"yeah, just thought you should know." kazuha winks at minji before returning to her espresso machine. minji is confused by the wink, but it's too late to ask; kazuha is already busy in work mode. the feeling in her stomach quells a bit.

--

"what are you looking for?" minji jumps at the sudden voice behind her. you're peering over her shoulder as she holds the walk-in door open.

"you scared me!" minji exclaims and hits you on the shoulder, leading you to pout and rub at your shoulders.

"sorry, bad habit of mine." you explain, "so, what are you looking for?"

minji's still looking around for food that she can eat. she had the great idea of waking up an hour later today, only to find out that hanni already ate her work lunch with a measly 'sorry! i'll pay you back :)) ~hanni' scribbled over a sticky note taped to the fridge door. minji groaned and sped off to get to work on time, completely forgoing a lunch.

"hopefully lunch, hanni ate my lunch."

"you have a bunny named hanni?" you question, trying to look for food in the walk-in.

"no, i have a roommate named hanni, she always steals my food, claims it tastes better than her own food." minji sighs and looked at different rows for hopefully another lone croissant or even a cookie. "is there really no food in here?"

"probably not, since shipment's tomorrow and we've had a busy week." you explain but then you pull your phone out, making a quick call.

"yes one order of a club sandwich, with chips and a cookie please...thank you!" you speak into the phone, minji's confused but you smile at her when she looks at you confused. "okay thank you, can I pick it up now?" and then you hang up the phone.

"what was that?" minji questions but you've already darted out of the walk-in, and minji's hot on your trail watching you run out of the store and make a quick beeline to the deli store around the corner, with your work cap and work apron on. minji laughs at your antics, but her heart warms at the sentiment.

minji returns back into the coffee shop. she might as well wait for you to return so she opens her phone.

[minmin]: new girl bought me lunch

[hanbunny]: you're kidding. even i wouldn't do that.

[minmin]: of course you wouldn't you ate my work lunch!

[minmin]: literally this is all your fault >:(

[hanbunny]: hey, new girl literally is buying you lunch, i think im being a great wingwoman actually, my genius should never be doubted :>

[minmin]: shut up.

[minmin]: also pay me back.

you return breathing heavy but with a brown takeout bag in front of minji's face. minji puts her phone away as she grabs the bag, surprised to see all the things you ordered in the bag. "you really didn't have to do this, how much was it?"

"free 99, don't pay me back minji. it's a thank you for all times you've covered for me when i was late to work." you stretch your legs and sit down next to minji, watching her enjoy the food that you bought.

"want some?" minji splits half her sandwich.

"sure!" you happily grab at the half presented to you and chew happily; minji just laughs at the sight. you remind her of a dog in the way you're so energetic and food driven.

"well if you won't let me pay you back, can i cook you dinner?" minji takes a leap of faith and turns to you, your mouth drops open and you nod intensely, almost choking on the sandwich but finally swallowing the bite.

"yes! i would be honored to try your cooking." you offer as you bite into the sandwich again.

minji smiles at that, "it's a date then."

--

"no, kkura, listen. she said 'it's a date then', but like i don't actually think it's one." you explain while sakura's playing resident evil. her focus being taken up by this new development but also the anxiety from how scary the game is.

"okay, so it's a date." she echos back, moving her head away from the screen.

"but i don't think it is. you know how some people just say it's a date, but it turns out it's just a friend date?" you explain and groan into sakura's plushies.

"no, not really." sakura continues, jumping when a random NPC shows up on the screen's peripheral.

"i just don't want to make it seem like i read it wrong." you explain, toying with the feet of the duck plushie. "what if i the overread it and bring roses to a friend date, you know? then she would think i'm weird and not want to be friends with me. which is fine! but i really would like this to be a date."

"listen kid, just ask her directly if it's a friend date or more. it's easy." sakura explains plainly, frankly you've been going through this back and forth for the past fifteen minutes and sakura's had enough.

you freak out, taking a sharp intake, "absolutely not! that would ruin the mood, then i would look like i'm making her look like an idiot, and minji is not an idiot." you explain.

"i gave you the best advice i got, if you're not going to take it then leave."

"kkura pleaseeee, i need a better way to figure this out."

"nope, not hearing it, good luck!" sakura tunes you out, putting her headphones back on and locking in.

you walk out with sakura's duck plushie still in your hands, if she won't give you good advice then you're taking her belongings.

--

you give yourself some words of encouragement as you knock on her apartment door. behind this door was the living space of your crush and you were sweating, rocking on your feet back and forth in anticipation.

"hello! you're minji's coworker right?" the door opens quickly, and a shorter girl stands before you; she is definitely not minji.

"yes, and you're hanni?" you question to which she nods, excitedly welcoming you into their home. it's what you would expect of minji's living space, very light cream and brown colors all over the living space.

"hanni! i told you to let me answer the door!" minji rushes out of her room, with a cute top on and her hair done in cute braids framing her face, you think she looks gorgeous.

"well minji, it's rude to keep a guest waiting." hanni laughs and smiles at minji weirdly, giving her a quick wink and a pat on her shoulders before disappearing into her room, "it was nice to meet you!"

"you too!" you shout as hanni closes her door.

minji feathers through her hair, and directs you to take off your jacket. you're looking around and you spot minji's work clogs by the shoe rack, and laugh at the sight.

"sorry about hanni, she's usually not so enthusiastic." minji's leading you over to the kitchen where you can see her dinner being cooked. you smile at the delicious smells invading your nose.

"not at all, she seems very nice." you reply back and settle into one of the bar stools.

minji stands awkwardly, confused on how this date should go. "would you like anything to drink? we have water, juice, coke zero, wine-"

"coke zero." you decide, and minji laughs remembering your obsession with that specific drink, no other kind of coke.

"okay, coke zero it is." she hands you the drink to which you happily start drinking, even letting out a large burp, "excuse me."

minji just laughs and finishes stirring the pasta and plating them on the table, it's your favorite, carbonara. you thank the pasta gods for this delicious meal and start to dig in.

minji really hopes the pasta she made tastes good, "how is it?"

"so delicious, better than any pasta i've had before!" you are definitely enjoying the meal as you are finished with the plate before minji can even eat half of hers.

"can i have seconds?"

minji laughs, "of course."

you give yourself another bowl of pasta, happily chatting about interests, you find out that minji's a bit of a audiophile, enjoying all kinds music. she's speaking about her passions but you keep eyeing the stray hair on her cheek. so you reach out and pick it off if minji's face causing her to blush and glow red.

"thank you." she's back to the more reserved minji that you see whenever she's embarrassed. her hands are closed over each other.

"thank you for dinner by the way, you really didn't have to cook me dinner." you say in between bites. you appreciate the girl's kindness; you just can't tell if this is really a date. "i brought flowers by the way!" you go back to your bag and pull out pink carnations.

minji blushes at the gesture, finding it cute that you even thought to bring flowers. she grabs a vase and starts filling it to place the flowers that you have brought, she can't seem to contain her happiness. smiling wildly and then she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket.

[hanbunny]: hey

[hanbunny]: did you two kiss yet?

[hanbunny]: danielle's here too btw

[hanbunny]: hi minji! danielle here! i think your outfit is so cute <3333

[hanbunny]: anyways, hanni here, make a move by the end of the date, if you don't i don't have to pay you back for the lunch i stole

[hanbunny]: love you, good luck!

minji knew the two girls were up to something suspicious, hanni kept demanding that danielle come over earlier in the afternoon. she did not expect the two to be spying on her and your date. minji mutes hanni's conversation, turning to you.

"want to watch a movie?" minji asks as she walks over to the couch. you decide on the lego movie, claiming that it's been your favorite for years, and minji doesn't have the heart to tell you she finds it embarrassing to watch.

you both are enjoying it; well, mostly you are enjoying the movie, and minji's enjoying you enjoying the movie. you tend to recite the lines quietly when you know a long dialogue is coming up, or you clap when you find a scene enjoyable.

minji finds herself relaxing into the date, you seem preoccupied enough with the movie that she goes up to make some popcorn for herself. as she waits for the popcorn, she spots hanni's door cracked open. spotting two sets of eyes watching minji.

minji turns back towards the tv, happy that you haven't discovered the two. "i'm going to the bathroom." minji shouts. you give her a thumbs up and an okay, minji turns to hanni's room.

both girls are eyes wide seeing minji stalk towards them, trying to shut the door but minji's too strong, barging into the room, with hanni tumbling backwards into danielle. both of them sprawled out on hanni's carpet.

"you two have been spying us this whole time?" minji whisper shouts at them. quickly shutting the door behind her.

"i'm sorry!" danielle squeaked out while hanni glared at minji.

"you have nothing to be sorry about dani, minji here just doesn't understand that we are emotional support for her first date!" hanni explains, getting up to sit on her bed.

minji groans and looks around, seeing a giant corkboard filled with poorly shot photos of you and her at work, red string pinned criss crossing all over the board, as if this were a murder case.

"hanni, what is this?" minji nearly shouts, she's horrified to see photos of herself eyeing you or the other way around. hanni simply smiles at her work.

"this is my board for mission: GMAG." she explains proudly, "stands for mission: get minji a girlfriend."

"you have got to be kidding me." minji looks all over the board, trying not to be upset at hanni. she understands the girl is just looking out for her, but this is all a bit much.

"this wasn't my idea!" danielle explains, minji knows that danielle would never do something like this. so she glares at hanni instead, the girl just smirks and points at the board instead.

"whatever, just don't make a peep, i need to get back to this date." minji explains and closes the door behind her, leaving the two alone.

"sorry that took so long." minji walks into the living room, seeing you happily invested in the movie. you smile at her, and pat the seat next to you, inviting her to join you.

"no worries, movie's good!" you explain. even though minji might not completely love the lego movie, she is enjoying being around you and spending time with you. also find it cute that you dropped a blanket over her as she got comfortable.

you recognize the final portion of the movie, "this is my favorite part, minji." you explain to her how cool the collaboration of lego fans and the production cast were. giving her insight on the movie that she definitely did not know. she ends up kissing you through your avid explanation, with your hands all over the place.

you thank the heavens she made the first move because you were worried this was a friend date. minji turns shy at the action, a little shocked by her own boldness. she shifts away from you and avoids your eye contact.

"minji, you just kissed me." you say, a little slow on the pick up. your brain is trying to catch up to what just happened. minji just nods, seemingly invested in the ending credits.

"did you mean to?" you ask, pushing her shoulder a bit.

"yes." she says and you can see her ears getting all red from the embarrassment.

"oh thank god, because i wasn't sure if this was a friend date or romantic date, i mean obviously i wanted it to be a romantic date, but i really wasn't sure if it was. i asked my roommate for help, but she was no help. she told me to ask you if this was a more than a friendly date, and i was like nuh uh no way i am going to ask minji that." you trail on and on, a nervous habit you picked up whenever you didn't know what to say next.

minji kisses you a second time. and you stop talking. "it's definitely more than a friend kind of date." she reaffirms your suspicions and you let out a little laugh. you pull her into a hug, before grabbing her face and giving her a kiss as well.

"i want to kiss you more often." you say.

"yeah?"

"yeah." you conclude proudly.

hanni and danielle are still in hanni's room with their ears against the gap of the door. and then you hear a loud squeal followed by a loud crash. you turn to minji and she immediately groans.

"hanni!" minji shouts. it's silent for a couple seconds until you hear a timid muffled voice. and out comes two girls from hanni's room. you're shocked because you completely forgot about hanni, and to now learn that there was another girl too makes you even more confused.

"hi minji, hello minji's lover." hanni smirks at you, while you hide yourself behind minji.

"hanni stop." minji groans out.

"what? mission: gmag is a success from what i can see." hanni gives you a wink, you feel oddly exposed by the action. meanwhile, hanni's friend is just smiling and nodding at you. you feel a little less worried with her.

as minji and her two friends head back into hanni's room to assess the aftermath caused by the troublemakers. you sit back, scratching your head and munching on popcorn. puzzled by hanni's interest in you.

minji returns with a smile, and casually suggests, "another movie?"

"lego movie part 2?" you ask with a grin.

--

a/n: wrote this in a very silly goofy mood. this piece was only supposed to be around 2k originally...anyways, stay safe and stay healthy everyone!