#and like YEAH I wouldn’t ask you to sit down during the songs but like when they’re talking??? you can sit honey

[kitten4sannie]

for love of the game

pairing: pitcher! wooyoung x batter! reader (fem) x teammate! yunho

genres: college baseball au, enemies to fuckbuddies, best friends to fuckbuddies, smut

summary: jung wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, is beyond determined to show you that he is in fact, on top. Yunho, your close friend and reliable teammate, will do everything in his power to watch it all go down.

w.c: 5k (2k words of plot bc i can ✨ the rest is filth tho i promise <3)

warnings: tobacco/vape usage, nasty mean dom! wooyo, perverted subby puppyboy! yuyu, bratty bitch in the streets, subby slut in the sheets! reader, yuyu has a horsecock, implied brat taming, brief choking, mxm, one single slap and spank, cuckholding, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, humiliation kink, dirty talk, exhibitionism/voyeurism, brief breath play, oral (giving/receiving), masturbation, yuyu sucks cock, thigh fucking, cum eating, deep-throating, spit kink, hair tugging, breeding kink (would it be a kitten4sannie fic without it? idt so 💅🏼), unprotected sex, creampies, dumbification

a/n: hey batter, batter~~ ughhh i’ve been itching to write this ever since they went to their first dodger game 🥺 i had an unusual amount of fun writing this as you’ll be able to tell eeheheheh (≧∀≦) anygaysss i hope you enjoy this hater x hater x nasty bsf fantasy ✨

song recs: siren by ateez - new girl by finneas - knock me out by miyavi - heaven and back by chase atlantic

“You ready for today’s game, Y/N?” Yunho, your teammate and closest personal friend outside of baseball, asked you inquisitively, one of his large hands rubbing into the tense muscle of your shoulder, using the other to send a tactical text message to someone. 

When you weren’t training, working out, or competing in your college team’s playoff games, you were hanging out in Yunho’s frat house, watching him get his ass handed to him in League. You both had a simple, easy going relationship, one that consisted of chill kickbacks and drunken shenanigans, with the occasional exchange of longing glances, lingering touches, and perhaps an adrenaline induced fuck or two, or three before and after one of your games — but who were you to decipher what your relationship status was? You had your future career to focus on. 

“Am I ready? Yun, I came out the pussy ready for this fucking game,” you replied vulgarly, bringing your water bottle up to your lips to take a few sips, smiling crookedly up at your tall friend over the shoulder he was keenly massaging. 

“That’s what I like to hear, baby,” Yunho chimed proudly, shoving his phone into his back pocket so that he could use both of his hands on your shoulders, doing his best to loosen up your muscles with his long, slender fingers.

“I’m not your baby, but maybe I would be if you stopped solo-queuing as Braum every time you hop on League.” You couldn’t help but let out a few groans from the pressure he was using on you, hoping that his massage would aid you in the powerful swings you would have to make during the next seven innings. “I’m tired of watching you get ass fucked every round.” 

“You wanna go for a few rounds next time then? I wouldn’t mind watching you get wrecked,” Yunho mumbled into your ear, glancing across the dugout at the other team, before he let go of you and sat down next to his rowdy teammates, joining in on the competition to see whose thighs could take up the most space on the crowded bench. 

“Yeah, I bet, you degenerate. Oh, you know what else you can watch?” you retorted, pretending to reach into one of your pockets and pulling out nothing, simply holding your middle finger up to Yunho. Your best friend quickly mirrored your unique display of affection, leading the both of you to giggle and smile at each other for a little too long, before you decided to sit down as well and conserve your energy. 

During the typical pre-game announcements, you found yourself not being able to get comfortable like you usually could. It was off-putting, to say the least. There was nothing unusual going on. The sky was nice and clear, the wind blew a cool breeze across the exposed skin of your neck, right in between your pulled-up hair and the collar of your softball uniform. Your teammates were all stretching their limbs, shooting the shit, eagerly chewing nicotine gum, or spitting out tobacco juice into empty water bottles. All was right in the world, yet you couldn’t seem to stop bouncing your thigh, your cleats repeatedly digging deeper marks into the dirt below. That was when you felt the intensity of someone’s eyes boring into you. 

“Yo, baby, you got some chew on you?” someone with an irritatingly smug, yet distinctly familiar voice asked you from the other side of the snug dugout.

You immediately stood up from your seat, turning your head in the direction of the voice, just in time for you to come face to face with the Devil himself. 

Jung Wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, was casually leaning down against the small metal fence that separated your teams, looking up at you through the yellow lenses of his sunglasses. 

“Do I look like the type to put that nasty shit in my mouth?” you immediately snapped, taking a few steps in his direction, not realizing how hard you were squeezing your plastic water bottle until it began to audibly crunch inside your tight grasp. “Huh?” 

Wooyoung licked at the mole on his chapped bottom lip, his canines becoming visible when he smiled cockily at you. He missed his favorite plaything. You were so easy to rile up. It made his already tight pinstripe pants even tighter. “Mm, but you’ve put nastier things in your mouth, haven’t you, baby?”

Scoffing, you placed your hands on your soft hips, shaking your head, pretending his perverse words didn’t make your cheeks feel like they were already sunburnt, wanting to put up more of a front, now that your entire team was possibly listening in. “You would know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you, Wooyoung? The handjobs you give your team aren’t doing enough for you these days, huh?” 

Wooyoung did his best to ignore the snickers and whispers of your team, taking his cap off to run his fingers through his silky raven hair, biting the corner of his lip all the while. “People talk in the locker rooms, you know. They say you really know your way around a cock. Probably from all that practice you get with your teammates, yeah?” He looked over to Yunho, who sheepishly smiled at him. “You can vouch for me, can’t you, Yun?” The batter remained quiet out of fear of your wrath.

Wooyoung was about to say more, when his vision was suddenly blurred by something cold. You had offered him mercy, dumping the rest of your water on the pitcher’s head, rather than shoving the entire bottle up his ass like you desperately wanted to. Instead of blowing up on you and embarrassing himself like you had hoped he would, Wooyoung simply flipped his hair back and put his cap back on, resulting in a few squeals from some nearby fangirls that were sitting in the stands. “If getting me hard was the goal, you succeeded, Y/N.” 

You grimaced. “You’re fucking disgusting, Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung reached over the fence to push a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “But, you love it, don’t you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with me.” 

“You should be obsessed with me. Maybe if you paid attention, you could figure out how to pitch a ball that I won’t knock out of the goddamn stadium.” 

You irked Wooyoung to no end, your equally quick-witted jabs getting underneath the pitcher’s tan skin. However, he wouldn’t let you have the satisfaction of seeing that, unless hell itself froze over. “And if you paid attention, maybe your team would actually make it past the playoffs.” 

That was when a vein visibly began to bulge out of your temple, your jaw tensing. Wooyoung had struck a nerve. You knew it, he knew it, and your team definitely knew it. You’d give anything to make it to the championship game, but it was always just barely out of reach. The fact that Wooyoung would stoop so incredibly low had your blood boiling. You wanted nothing more than to grab the smug pitcher by his collar and spit directly in his face, but you were afraid that he would enjoy that more than you would have. So, instead you simply accepted defeat in that moment and sat back down on the bench, staring ahead at the expansive baseball field.  

You were too caught up in your own furious thoughts to notice that Yunho had left the spot he had taken up on the bench, instead leaning on the same fence Wooyoung had been chilling on just moments ago. 

“Your girl’s feisty, Yun. I fucking love it. She seems like she bites. Does she bite?” Wooyoung prodded the taller man, just as he pulled a vape out of his pocket and took a long hit, causally blowing out the smoke into Yunho’s face. 

Yunho waved the vapor away, shaking his head slightly. “She’s not mine, but yeah, she bites. She…does a lot of things.” 

Wooyoung hummed in response, smiling like he knew something no one else did, his eyes shifting from the crowd, to his teammates who smiled back at him, then back up at Yunho. “She’s not yours, but she lets you hit, doesn’t she?” 

“She does…She’s just very...rough.” Yunho bit his lip, thinking about how ferociously you would ride his cock in the empty locker rooms after the games you would ultimately lose, remembering all the love bites and scratches you littered his broad body in, knowing you wouldn’t let him go until you left his cock raw and so sensitive he was ready to cry. He was more of a softie himself, a good boy, if you will, not exactly cut out for the animalistic sex you required after such a brutal loss. Wooyoung, however, seemed more fit for that. In fact, Yunho felt his throat go dry just imagining the two of you going at it in such a way, especially in front of him. That was allowed, right? 

“Yunho.” Wooyoung took another long puff from his vape, using his free hand to take his glasses off and placing them over the brim of his baseball cap.

“Yeah?” 

Wooyoung reached up to place his hand on Yunho’s tense shoulder, massaging his digits into it to loosen up the muscle. “I got a proposition for you. If your team wins today, you get to fuck a happy, calm Y/N. She’ll probably even blow you without expecting anything back. Who knows, she might even swallow.” 

Yunho unconsciously licked his lips, glancing back over the shoulder Wooyoung was massaging into to admire your pretty face, even if it was contorted with rage-filled determination. He slowly looked back down at the pitcher. “And, if your team wins?” 

Wooyoung grinned deviously, licking at one of his sharp canines. “I get to put that pretty slut in her place.” 

-

The first locker in your sight was the main recipient of your bubbling anger, the side of your bat making contact with the metal, incidentally leaving an indent. “Motherfucker!” you shouted to no one inside the empty women’s locker room, tossing the bat down the long hallway, not bothering to watch it roll along the ground until it was stopped by someone’s dusty cleat. 

You threw your baseball cap into your crowded locker along with your balled up, button-up shirt once you pulled it off of your torso. You then pressed your hands into the cool metal, staring at your angry, sweaty reflection in the locker door mirror, huffing and puffing. “How could you strike out to a bitch like him? Do better,” you told yourself, your hands forming fists. 

Wooyoung cleared his throat, making his presence known, taking slow steps down the hallway with his hands in his pockets, happily chewing on a piece of gum. “I knew you were a sore loser, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” 

“Are you lost, Wooyoung? This is the women’s locker room, and last time I checked you don’t have a pussy,” you spat in his direction, reaching down to unbutton your pants. 

“You wanna check for me, baby? I might not be hung like Yunho, but I’ll still be able to pump you full of cum. A slutty little cleat chaser like you would love that, huh?” Wooyoung mused vulgarly, leaning against the lockers, lowering his tinted glasses to leer at your half-naked body. 

You didn’t look at Wooyoung for too long, knowing you might kill him, or fuck him raw, if you did, now that jealousy-fueled rage was flowing through your veins. 

A shower would probably help cool you down. Help you think straight. On the other hand, a nice, thick cock drilling into you wouldn’t solve all your problems, but it sure would help, even if it was your sworn enemy who was servicing you. Instead of replying, you simply shimmied out of your tight, dust-covered pants and stepped out of them, bringing a foot up onto the bench to stretch out your sore, bruise-ridden legs, deeply annoyed that you slid to so many bases just to lose anyway.

Wooyoung’s throat ran dry, his gaze suddenly fixated on the g-string that formed to the curves of your hips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down upon the sight of the thin string tightly cupping your cunt as you bent down to massage your fingers into your thighs and calves. “Fuck, is that a thong? You usually don’t wear anything…” 

“What does it look like, dumbass?” you snapped, before turning on your heels in the opposite direction, looking back at him over your shoulder. Chuckling softly at the tent that formed inside his pants, you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it drop to the floor, prior to heading into the open shower room, very aware of the fact that Wooyoung was following close behind you like a eager, drooling puppy, smirking at the sounds of shuffling and grunting, the pitcher’s clothes hitting the tile floor on the way. Wooyoung talked a big game, but at the end of the day, he was just a man, and you took pride in knowing you had that power over him, even if you didn’t have it on the field. 

“Hey, does having something rubbing against your pussy help you play better, Y/N? Or do you just like getting wet in front of all those men like the whore you are?” Wooyoung asked near your ear, watching you turn the shower handle to the right until a steady stream of warm water began to pour onto the both of you, waiting for you to turn around so that he could slip his twitching fingers under the thong straps that clung to your hips and pulled them up just to watch your pussy lips slip out past the thin material, making the pitcher groan. 

“Did you come here just to slut shame me, Wooyoung?” You pressed your back into the cold tile wall behind you, goosebumps forming on your bare, heated skin, looking up at him past your wispy lashes, an amalgamation of intense hatred and lust sitting just beneath the surface of your piercing gaze. “Or did you come here to fuck me?” 

Wooyoung groaned at your bold words, pressing one of his hands onto the wall near your head, the other cupping your slick cunt, his lips just barely ghosting yours. “I didn’t just come here to fuck you, princess. I came here to ruin you.”

“Then, ruin me,” you reiterated, grabbing Wooyoung by a tuft of his wet hair, your teeth and tongues clashing together in an instant. 

Once Wooyoung was satisfied with the amount of spit he had swallowed, he pulled back, simply placing one hand on the top of your head and forcefully pushing you down until you got the hint. 

You were mad at yourself for being unable to resist getting on your knees for a cocky prick like Wooyoung, so you simply glared up at him, trying to pretend you didn’t notice his stiff, thick cock standing at attention in front of your face. “When I said ruin me, I meant my cunt. You think I’m just gonna suck you off because you pushed my head down? It’s bold of you to assume I won’t bite.” 

“Don’t be a brat, Y/N. I won today, so I deserve special treatment, don’t I?” Wooyoung argued, squinting his eyes at you once you began grimacing up at his erection, his fingers wrapping around your hair to create a makeshift ponytail. “Maybe if you didn’t strike out so many times, I would be the one on my knees, devouring that pretty cunt of yours.” 

“Shut the fuck up…” you murmured, squeezing your thighs together, not understanding why someone like Wooyoung had so much power over you. 

“That’s not very nice of you to say, princess.” Wooyoung reached down with his free hand to hold the base of his cock, tapping the leaking tip against your lips, smearing his pre-cum over them in the process. “How about we put that dirty mouth of yours to better use, yeah?”

Afraid he was late to the show after being forced to do an interview with the local college, Yunho quickly made his way into the women’s locker room, almost slipping on the bat you left on the floor as he followed the sounds of breathy groans, gurgled moans, and running water that were echoing from the showers. He almost fell to his knees at the sight of his best friend taking cock down her throat. You were a complete mess, streaks of mascara running down your flushed cheeks, strands of milky saliva dribbling down past your swollen lips, along your bulging throat, and onto your tits, your nose routinely making contact with Wooyoung’s pelvis. Yunho didn’t even know you could deep-throat cock with so much ease. 

Leaning against the opposite side of the shower room, Yunho desperately began to palm at his stiff, leaking length through the baggy gray sweatpants that hung loosely from his hips, his cheeks and ears growing red once he caught your teary gaze. 

You reached in between your trembling thighs, trying to relieve the deep ache inside your dripping cunt by filling it with two of your fingers, letting out a choked moan when Wooyoung roughly smacked the side of your cheek. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself? You’re my cocksleeve right now. You don’t get to play with your cunt, dumb whore,” Wooyoung grunted, letting go of your hair to pinch your nose when you wouldn’t stop finger-fucking yourself, keeping his cock lodged deep inside your throat, cutting off your only source to oxygen. 

“M-mmnfff…!” you whimpered, your brain starting to feel delightfully fuzzy around the edges, getting an instant head high from not being able to breathe. You waited until the very last second to stop playing with yourself, suddenly grabbing onto Wooyoung’s hips and squeezing them tightly, begging him for mercy with your watery eyes. 

Wooyoung immediately pulled his cock out of your mouth and slapped it down onto your face as a further attempt to humiliate you in front of your friend. “What a dirty slut…” He began to jerk himself off, rubbing his reddened cockhead against your parted lips. “I want you to listen to me. Once I cum inside your mouth, you’re not going to swallow, got it?” 

Wiping the excess saliva from your face, you nodded your head obediently, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes, knowing Yunho was just a few feet away from you, but too distracted by the thick, leaking cock right in front of your face. “Cum, please…”

Yunho didn’t realize how much he was getting off on being ignored by the two of you until he finally freed his cock from his stained sweatpants and jerked himself off directly, thick globs of pre-cum pouring down the side of his heavy length, breathy, whiny moans escaping from his drooling mouth, his glasses starting to fog up. 

“Brainless for me already, hm? What a good girl. Now, show me your tongue,” Wooyoung whispered, taking advantage of the situation and sending a few strings of spit down onto it as soon as you held out your tongue. When he watched you swallow it immediately, your thighs squeezing together right after, Wooyoung tossed his head back and let out a long guttural groan, pressing his cockhead against your tongue just in time for spurts of hot cum to shoot out of it. 

Ready to cum untouched from being used solely for Wooyoung’s pleasure, you carefully closed your mouth, not letting any of his hot load spill out, but not swallowing it down either, as much as you wanted to.

Wooyoung reached down to run his fingers through your wet hair, admiring the mess of pre-cum and spit you had on your face, smiling at you with his canines on display. “Spit out my cum onto your fingers and fuck it into that whore-hole of yours. You wanted to play with yourself, didn’t you? Now’s your chance, princess.” 

Shocked by Wooyoung’s perverted request, you simply looked up at him with wide eyes, looking like a hamster with the way your cheeks were currently puffed out and filled with his cum. 

“Go on, baby. Don’t be shy. Show Yunho why you have a reputation of being such a shameless cumslut with the guys on my team,” Wooyoung encouraged breathily, gently patting one of your filled cheeks, a few dribbles of milkiness leaking out past your lips.

Yunho’s eyes left the soaking mess in between your thighs for a second to meet your embarrassed gaze, coming to terms with this new information. Not only did you fuck him after your losses, but you took the time to fuck the winning team, even after Yunho had filled your womb with countless loads. You really were a slut. Yunho became so hard, he grew a bit dizzy. 

“F-fine, but don’t stare…” you murmured sheepishly, as if you hadn’t been ran through by both of their teams before. The men in question watched with bated breath as you let the milky load drip onto your fingers, letting out little gasps when they quickly disappeared all the way inside you, your cunt making obscene squelching sounds each time you pushed them in and out.

“You’re so filthy…I think I’m in love,” Wooyoung sighed dreamily, reaching down to clutch your jaw with his slender fingers. He smiled keenly at your contorted expression, enjoying the sound of your whiny moans. “What’s wrong, princess? Are you going to cum just from being a filthy whore? Does it feel that good knowing you're breeding yourself with my load? Mm, and it feels even better knowing that Yunho is watching you be my pretty little cum dump, huh?” 

“S-so good, I might…ffffuck…” Once your heated gaze returned to your best friend, Yunho began to seize up at the same time as you, painting his plain black t-shirt with ropes of cum just as your milky release poured onto the tile floor below. 

Wooyoung simply chuckled in amusement, before turning his head to face his longtime friend just in time to see him wiping thick streaks of cum off of his long, softened length. “Did you just bust a nut from watching Y/N try to impregnate herself?” 

“Y-yes.” Blushing, Yunho adjusted his glasses out of habit, now that he wasn’t wearing his contacts, pulling at the sleeve of his hoodie now that his two favorite people were looking at him like they wanted to devour him. 

“You’re just as dirty as she is.” Wooyoung smiled idly, positioning himself behind you so that your back pressed into his chest, slowly spreading you wide open for all three of you to see just how pink your soaked slit was. “Hey, Yun. You hungry?” 

“Very,” your teammate replied quickly, licking at his lips, already finding himself on his knees before you, ready to start panting in true golden retriever fashion. 

“You don’t mind if Yun eats out your pretty, cum-stuffed cunt, do you, baby?” Wooyoung asked you, leaning over to nip at your jaw, pinching your swollen clit just to hear the cute sound you made for him. 

Just as you gave them the go-ahead, your teammate buried his face in between your thighs, appreciating how Wooyoung spread you open further with his thumbs, eagerly lapping at the milky liquid that slowly began to drip out of you. 

“What a good puppy,” Wooyoung praised, growing hard and harder the longer he watched Yunho desperately slurp up the tangy mixture into his drooling mouth, slipping his cock in between your soft, sweaty thighs, appreciating the warmth they provided. “Do you like the way my cum tastes, Yun?” 

“Tasches scho good, Woo,” Yunho replied with his mouth full, dragging his dripping tongue up and over your puffy cunt over and over, idly kneading his fingers into the sides of your thighs. 

Groaning, Wooyoung began to fuck the tight space in between your thighs, the underside of his cock rubbing deliciously against your pussy, making you moan even louder than you were before. “You wanna taste it from the source, Yun? Huh? You want a taste of my cock?” 

Yunho nodded quickly, having to push down his own stiff length from the way it was poking into his abdomen. Drooling, he watched how Wooyoung pulled you just a little farther back against his body, until Yunho had access to his friend’s leaking cock, immediately wrapping his lips around the reddened tip and noisily slurping on it. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Wooyoung moaned out, clutching one of your hips tightly, snaking the other one around your waist to begin flicking and rubbing your clit, looking down over your shoulder to watch his friend fervently suck and lick at his cock each time he thrusted himself between your closed, trembling thighs, a combination of his pre-cum and your wetness dirtying Yunho’s foggy glasses. “I’m gonna fucking cum all over your face, Yun. Gonna make Y/N squirt all over it too.” 

“Give it to me, please…” he panted, dragging his tongue up from Wooyoung’s twitching tip, along your pulsing cunt, and up over your clit, licking fervently at it when Wooyoung lifted your hood up to expose it completely. Yunho was so desperate to chase his high, he almost didn’t register that he had begun to hump against your leg like a dog in heat, leaving streaks of sticky pre-cum on your skin. 

“Good puppy, fuck, you’re such a good boy, Yuyu,” you praised your teammate whinily, desperately rubbing your cunt all over his tongue until your knees felt like they were about to buckle, Wooyoung’s veiny cock running along your slit from below sending you over the edge. 

“Wet this puppy’s face with your squirt, baby. Now,” Wooyoung growled into your ear, biting on the side of it just as he roughly pinched your clit, thrusting forward in between your thighs one more time, only for his sensitive tip to be met with Yunho’s agile tongue, his eyes rolling back when his friend lapped over and into the slit. 

Right as your arousal began to squirt onto Yunho’s flushed face, Wooyoung’s cock twitched up into your cunt, his hot load shooting out onto your teammate’s tongue, a few spurts landing onto his glasses. 

When Yunho was about to cum from rubbing himself all over your leg, he suddenly didn’t have access to it, causing him to look up and whimper. Licking at the cum and squirt on his lips, his honey brown eyes widened at the both of you, his pupils blown wide. 

Wooyoung had lifted up your trembling thighs so that they were pressed into either side of you, your body folded up like a paper doll, his hardened cock already slipping in and out of your soaking cunt. Chuckling at your breathless moans and whines, he dragged his tongue up and over your jaw, humming at the taste of your salty skin. “You’ve been waiting to get pounded like this, yeah? Because no one uses this pretty body like I do…huh? You’re so spoiled now.” 

“It’s all your fault,” you gasped out in between moans, reaching your arm back to hold onto Wooyoung’s neck, turning your head so that your lips ghosted along the side of his panting mouth. “Please cum inside, Woo, please, I need it.” 

Wooyoung squeezed his fingers into the underside of your thighs, bucking his hips roughly up into you. “God, I love when I turn you into my little breeding bitch.” He turned his head so that he could bite at your bottom lip, groaning, “Get ready to retire, baby. I’m gonna knock you up.” 

Yunho thought he was going to lose his goddamn mind from witnessing the display of dominance and submission that was taking place directly above him. Wooyoung was completely controlling your body, ruthlessly fucking up into you, one hand tugging at your hair, the other wrapped around your neck, a small bulge routinely becoming visible within your lower abdomen with each thrust and every he made into your stretched cunt. It seemed like neither of you could even remember that Yunho was there, right below you, until he began to eagerly lick at the slick, milky space where your heated, sticky bodies routinely made contact. 

You both moaned at the pleasurable sensation, your pulsing lower halves beginning to grow extremely heavy. “Yuyuuu, that feels so good,” you whimpered, angling your head down to gaze lovingly at Yunho, reaching your hand down to ruffle his sweaty hair. 

Growling, Wooyoung grabbed you by the chin and shoved his tongue down your throat, forcibly bouncing you up and down on his cock. Your teary eyes never closed, and never left Yunho’s, even when you began to cum for Wooyoung, your release spilling out into your dear teammate’s open mouth and onto his lolled-out tongue. Just when Yunho thought he couldn’t get any harder, you began to cry out a cuter version of Wooyoung’s name once he really started to drill his pulsing cock into your sensitive cunt, the twinges of jealousy Yunho felt only contributing to his need to witness his friend unload himself into you. 

Wooyoung pressed his forehead against yours, his sharp eyes boring into yours. “You look at me when you take my load, baby. I don’t care if your little boyfriend is watching me fuck you stupid,” he demanded, smacking his palm roughly into the side of your ass, making you squeak out in pleasurable pain. 

“Yes, Youngie,” you breathed out, your eyebrows drawing closer once your bottom half began to grow heavier and heavier, not knowing if you were truly capable of cumming for the nth time. 

“What a good girl…Open your mouth for me…” Sighing softly, he caught his dripping saliva on your tongue with his own and slid it into your open mouth, the both of you letting out muffled moans as he spilled inside you once again. He broke the sloppy kiss to look down over your shoulder, admiring how his load began to slip out past his softening cock, dripped down past his balls, and landed onto Yunho’s fucked-out face. He smiled darkly at the dried spurts of cum Yunho left on his t-shirt and stained sweatpants. “Baby, look at the mess puppy made…” 

You licked at your lips, both you and Wooyoung just about devouring your teammate with your lustful gazes alone. “Oh, Yuyu. Look what you’ve done to yourself. Poor, sweet puppy just wants to feel good, doesn’t he?” 

Yunho bit his bottom lip, looking up at the both of you with half-closed, watery eyes, completely at your combined mercy. “Y-yeah. More, please.” 

You and Wooyoung exchanged lecherous glances, knowing neither of you would be able to stop, especially not when you had such a perfect new companion to play with. Despite all the odds, you and your rival had finally come to a truce, and, of course, came to the conclusion that you’d be tag teaming Yunho until you would have to get ready for softball practice the next morning.

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[wandascosmic]

enough for you

wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: in which your girlfriend natasha makes you feel like you're never enough. (based off enough for you by olivia rodrigo)

word count: 2069

tags: angst, toxic relationship, insecurity, arguments, cheating, reader feels unloved (and unworthy of love), poor reader can never catch a break, cryptic mention of reader's mother being dead, self- hatred, reader's so sad, nat sucks (like a lot), but wanda comes through at the end like she always does and they have a little meet-cute :), i wrote this in one sitting while listening to enough for you on a loop

part two: so american

You sigh as you try to do your makeup in your mirror as flawlessly as possible. Every blemish or mark on your face needed to be covered up so you could look perfect for Nat. You were desperate to measure up to the gorgeous women Nat has dated before you and for that, you needed to look absolutely pristine.

In the past year, you’ve done so many new things you weren’t fond of just for Nat to like you. From nearly destroying every single muscle in your body at the gym just to measure up to her rigorous exercise routine, all the way to learning how to cook and bake every single one of her favorite foods until it was all you two ever ate despite your dislike for the majority of her preferred meals, you’ve tried so hard to be everything that Nat liked so she wouldn’t get sick of you. 

You frown slightly, Nat has never once acknowledged your kind gestures and actions, nor reciprocated them. 

“I’m just not the compliment type, Y/N, just drop it,” she had told you one time when you had confronted her on why she never acknowledged your efforts. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded wordlessly. 

***

“I made you your coffee,” you told Nat as she entered the kitchen in the morning. 2 creams, no sugar, just how you like it. 

Nat nodded and took the mug from you, sitting down at the table and barely paying any attention to your gesture. 

Clearing your throat, you tell her, “I also got up early this morning to buy tickets for us to go to that band I know you’ve been wanting to go to for a while.” You cross your fingers behind your back, hoping for her to tell you you’re good enough for her just this once. 

“Sorry, babe, Carol already got them for me,” she responds, your heart falling to your stomach. Putting her empty mug in the sink, she plants a kiss on your lips. “Besides, you don’t even know the lyrics to their songs.” She leaves you on your own in the kitchen. 

I know all of them by heart because of you. 

***

“Hey, Y/N?” Nat asks you one night on the couch. 

“Yeah?” you respond, turning to face your girlfriend. 

“I don’t really feel like myself these days.” Nat pauses. “Do you know what might help?” Despite the content of her question, you still smile, because this was your chance. This was your chance to show her that you might truly be worth loving. 

“First, I’m always here if you need to talk,” you say softly, but Nat makes no sound of acknowledgment next to you. “And second, make your own decisions you believe will be beneficial to you, just for yourself, and do the things that bring you fulfillment,” you explain. 

Nat finally turns and looks at you thoughtfully. “How did you figure that one out?” 

“I read your self-help books,” you reply sheepishly. I read all of them. 

“Wow, you’re pretty smart,” Nat replies, going back to the movie the two of you were watching together. 

And you smile for the rest of the night because that’s the first compliment Nat has given you since you first started dating a year ago. 

***

You and Nat had a fight. It isn’t the first time, but it’s the first time it’s hurt you this much as you truly take in your current reality. 

You’re crying in your shared room, Nat leaving you to go out for drinks you assume. 

Earlier tonight, you made the stupid mistake of asking why she was never there for you, it was during the heat of the moment, but your outrage felt justified due to the fact that she missed your award ceremony for your article in medical research (the third time this year she’s missed one of them but you did your best to forgive her before this), and she had simply scoffed at you telling you that it wasn’t even a big deal anyways. 

But this one was a big deal to you. 

It was research that could have saved your mother. 

“I nearly get killed every time I go out on the job, Y/N! Some stupid neuroscience article is nothing compared to that!” she yelled at you, exhausted from her day at work. 

Your eyes flooded with hurt as Nat’s filled with regret. 

“Wait, I’m sorry,” she said remorsefully. 

The first sign of remorse she’s ever shown you. 

“It’s fine, Nat,” you reply, trying to keep your tears at bay. You weren’t even in neuro, but that didn’t matter. Not to her. “Just go out, like you wanted.” You wave her off to go upstairs to your room. 

“Y/N, wait-” 

You didn’t listen, shutting the door before collapsing to your knees as you started to sob. 

Stupid, emotional, and obsessive. That was what you were. 

***

Nat has been home late for the past few nights, your worry increasing with each passing day. It’s probably something to do with work, but something feels off. 

“Where were you?” you ask Nat as she enters the front door. “I was worried sick.”

“I’m fine, Y/N. I just got held up at work,” Nat doesn’t make eye contact with you. 

“Oh, okay,” you say softly, feeling oddly small compared to your girlfriend. “Couldn’t you have called?” 

“For god’s sake, Y/N, my phone was dead. God, you’re so clingy,” Nat bites back, walking past you to go straight up to your room and slamming the door. 

You sigh, heading for the guest room since you know Nat won’t let you sleep next to her tonight. 

Suddenly, you hear Nat’s phone go off. And you realize that she had left it by the front door. 

Picking it up, you notice, that it’s at nearly full charge. 

Your brows furrow as you see the message your girlfriend received. 

Carol: Had a great time tonight, Nat. 

You don’t stop crying until the sun rises, one phrase ringing through your head the whole night. 

What are you doing wrong? 

***

“Am I not as interesting as the girls she’s dated before me?” you cry to Yelena as she rubs your back in comfort. 

“My sister is an idiot,” Yelena mutters, seeing how your relationship with Nat is tearing you apart. 

“What?” you choke out through your tears. 

“I think you love her more than anyone she’s ever had, and she couldn’t care less.” 

“She’s breaking my heart, Lena,” you sniffle. “But more than that, she’s breaking me.” 

You cry harder into your best friend’s arms.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” you sob into her shoulder.  

***

“Where were you?” you ask Nat as she comes home past midnight once again. 

“I was at the compound, we had a villain that got out so we had to take care of him.” 

You nod, but Tony already sent you the camera footage for tonight after you told him about your issues with your girlfriend and you know she was with Carol. 

“Are you sure?” you inquired. 

“Yes, Y/N,” Nat says exasperated. “For god’s sake, why are you never satisfied with whatever I do?” she says walking past you. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” you tell Nat from behind her. 

“What?” she says, turning around to face you. 

“You’re never satisfied with me,” you state. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted is to be good enough for you, but nothing I ever do for you seems to make you happy.” 

Nat scoffs. “That’s ridiculous.” 

“I know you were with Carol tonight,” you reveal. 

“No, I wasn’t,” she denies. 

“Tony sent me the footage, I know there was no villain. I know you’re cheating on me, and I know that you never cared about me,” you state. 

“Fine, whatever, I’m going to bed,” Nat says, completely disregarding you and everything she’s done to destroy the person you once were. 

“We’re done, Nat,” you tell her as she walks up the stairs to your once-shared room. 

Nat waves you off like you’ve never meant anything to her. 

And maybe you never did. 

***

“I loved her so much, I still do, and all she did was use me, then throw me away like I meant nothing to her,” you tell Yelena at the drink bar. Nat was away on a mission, so Yelena thought it might be fun for you to join her at one of the Avengers parties. 

“Don’t worry Y/N,” Yelena tells you. “I could tell her to apologize to you, but clearly she’s got some issues to figure out within herself before she can resolve any outside.” 

You nod wordlessly. 

What Yelena says then surprises you, “But honestly? She should be the one feeling sorry for herself.” You look at her curiously. “Someday, there will be someone out there who will love you as deeply as you love them.” 

“I don’t know, Lena,” you say softly. “Nat was everything to me.” 

“Someday, Y/N, you’ll be everything to somebody else.” 

***

1 year later

You’re running late for work, rushing out the door of the coffee shop, and you don’t notice the fact that you’ve bumped into someone until your coffee spills all over the floor, making you gasp. 

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry,” you tell the figure in front of you, and suddenly you freeze, at the sight of her glimmering emerald green eyes. Like Nat’s, but eternally softer. Eternally more curious. 

“Oh, no worries,” she says with a smile, pulling a few napkins out of her purse. 

“I didn’t spill any on you, did I?” you ask the woman, your mind a mess due to your embarrassment at spilling your coffee, but still quite fuzzy at the sight of her undeniable beauty. 

If you weren’t so much of a useless homosexual, you would bend down and help her clean the coffee she’s currently wiping away. Much like how she’s wiping away your ability to form any sort of cohesive thought. 

“No, I’m ok,” she laughs, standing up once more once all the coffee’s gone. “C’mon, let me buy you a new one.” 

Your eyes widen. “Oh, no, it’s not a big deal. Besides, it’s completely my fault for bumping into you-” 

“I want to,” she cuts off with a soft smile. 

“Oh,” you say softly. “Okay,” you finally resign to the comforting look she gives you.  

“Let me just make a quick phone call,” you let her know, hoping she doesn’t leave. 

“Take your time,” she assures. 

You smile gratefully. 

Your phone call was to call in sick to work for the second time in your life –you didn’t have a busy day today and you were running late anyways– and it was all to spend time with a pretty girl.  

On any other day you’d probably laugh at how pathetic you were, but this woman made you feel an odd sense of uncertainty within your life. 

Like nothing had ever made sense before her. 

Once you hang up the phone, you turn to see the woman already standing there, a white to-go coffee cup with a bit of steam escaping the spout. 

“Here’s your coffee,” the woman hands you the cup with a big smile as you pocket your phone. You inspect the label, your mouth parting slightly in shock once you see all of your preferred customizations. Done perfectly. 

“How do you know my coffee order?” you ask. 

“I took the label off the old one,” she says, showing you the sticker in the palm of her hand. “Want to sit?” She points to the array of round tables within the cafe.  

“I don’t even know you,” you say slowly. I called in sick to work for you, it’s a little too late for that. 

The brunette woman laughs before holding out her hand for you to shake. “Hi, I’m Wanda,” she says. 

“Y/N,” you respond, shaking her outstretched hand as your face flushes slightly at its softness. 

“See? Now we know each other,” Wanda says cheekily. 

You nod with a shy smile, following her to the table in the back as the two of you settle down into a small conversation. 

Somehow, the two of you spend the rest of the day talking and laughing, and you think it might be the best day of your life. 

Little do you know, Wanda thinks so too.

part two: so american

[deerlino]

half-admitted.

kim seungmin x gn!reader / seungmin with a clingy s/o. you’re adorable, but he'd never admit it. you're always following him around like his second shadow.

tags / grumpy!seungmin, clingy!reader, fluff, established relationship, cute banter, unspoken feelings, school setting, teasing & banter, humor (attempted) — 578 words

content warnings / none !

note / i felt like writing grumpy seung, so here he is! this was fun to write, just like my other stuff. hope you like it! oh, and huge thanks to everyone who's been so lovely to me these past days—you're amazing. love you all! <3

You’ve been shadowing Seungmin all day, flitting around him like an excitable butterfly. He pretends to be annoyed, but the slight curve at the corner of his mouth betrays him every time. Today is no different. You’ve got your arm linked with his as you both walk through the crowded school hallway, and he’s muttering something about how you’re “way too clingy.”

“I’m clingy?” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder. “You’re just mad because you secretly love it.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes, trying to look unimpressed. “In your dreams.”

You giggle, leaning your head on his shoulder for a moment. “Admit it, Seungmin. You think I’m adorable.”

“Keep dreaming, weirdo,” he mutters, but his face is slightly pink. You know you’ve got him.

During lunch, you plop down next to him at your usual table. “Hey, did you bring me anything?” you ask, peering into his lunch bag.

“Since when do I bring lunch for you?” Seungmin asks, trying to snatch the bag away, but you’re too quick.

“You love me,” you say in a sing-song voice, pulling out a sandwich. “Oh, ham and cheese! My favorite. Thanks, babe.”

He huffs, crossing his arms. “It’s my lunch.”

“But sharing is caring!” you insist, taking a big bite.

Seungmin sighs dramatically but doesn’t try to take the sandwich back. You know he wouldn’t. Instead, he opens his drink and takes a sip, looking anywhere but at you. “You’re a menace.”

You grin, wiping a crumb off your cheek. “And you love it.”

Later in the day, you’re sitting on a bench outside, waiting for Seungmin to finish his baseball practice. You scroll through your phone, occasionally glancing up to watch him. He’s focused, serious, and completely in his element. You admire him for a moment, feeling a warm flutter in your chest.

As the practice wraps up, Seungmin jogs over to you, wiping sweat from his forehead. “You’re still here?”

“Of course. I’m your biggest fan,” you say with a bright smile. “Need some water?”

He takes the bottle you offer, taking a long drink. “You’re such a dork.”

“But you love me,” you say, repeating your favorite phrase.

Seungmin looks at you, a rare soft smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible.

You catch it, though, and your heart does a little flip. You reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You’re sweaty,” you say with a playful wrinkle of your nose.

“You don’t have to point it out,” he grumbles, but there’s no heat in his words.

You laugh, and he shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “You’re impossible,” he says, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes you feel like you’re floating.

“Admit it, Seungmin. You think I’m adorable,” you say again, leaning closer.

He sighs, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe you’re a little bit adorable.”

Your eyes widen in mock surprise. “A little? I’m extremely adorable, thank you very much.”

Seungmin chuckles, ruffling your hair. “Don’t push your luck.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I love you, Seungmin.”

He looks at you, his expression softening. “I know,” he says quietly, and you know that’s as close to an admission as you’ll get. But it’s enough. More than enough.

The rest of the evening is spent with you clinging to him like a second shadow, and Seungmin pretending to be annoyed. But you know the truth. And so does he.

© deerlino (est. 060624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

[eiightysixbaby]

under the mistletoe

modern!eddie munson x fem!reader (college au)

2.6k

summary: a holiday party, a sweet gift exchange, and an even sweeter kiss

cw: mentions of alcohol, v brief mentions of weed smoking, fluff

“If Steve and Chrissy kiss one more time under that mistletoe, I’m gonna barf,” Eddie mumbles around his glass of eggnog.

“Oh, come on, I think it’s sweet,” Robin says, elbowing him in the side. “Stop being such a downer.”

You look in the direction of the couple under scrutiny, watching as Chrissy perches herself on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Steve’s waiting mouth. It is sweet, sickeningly so, if you’re honest. Maybe that’s where Eddie’s coming from…

“I’m not being a downer, I just don’t think we should all have to be subjected to them sucking face every five minutes,” Eddie sneers at her, huffing when she rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re just jealous you’re not getting any, Munson,” Robin sing-songs, walking away to refill her drink.

This was your first time experiencing one of Steve’s Christmas parties. Last year, you spent the holiday miserably sick in your and Robin’s shared apartment. You’d met the group during your first year of college, making fast friends and fitting right in with them. Robin and Eddie knew Steve from their shared hometown growing up, and they’d told you countless stories of all of the parties he used to throw in high school.

You’re just thankful that now, the parties are a little more scaled-back. A lot less drinking-till-you-puke and a lot more quality time with people you actually care about.

“So, you having fun at your first official Harrington holiday party?” Eddie asks you, looking casually over at you with his deep brown eyes.

“Yeah,” you smile. “It’s fun. I needed this after all the stress from finals. And it beats having the flu like last year,” you grimace, heart skipping a beat when Eddie laughs.

“Okay, you got me. Watching Steve and Chrissy make out might be bad, but it’s not as bad as the flu.”

You giggle, feeling your cheeks heat when he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. You’d be a filthy liar if you said you didn’t have a thing for Eddie. The moment you met him he’d captured your full attention, with his boisterous personality and his pretty eyes. His wild curly hair and his stellar smile. Everything about him had you giddy like a teenager, but you hadn’t voiced this to anyone — too scared that your feelings would disrupt, well, everything.

Plus, Eddie definitely didn’t like you like that. You’ve heard some of his hookup stories, he wouldn’t want to settle down and start a relationship with you. You’re just a friend to him, and that’s fine.

But with the way he’s looking at you right now, you could almost be convinced otherwise…

The little moment is gone before it really even started, Nancy coming over to the two of you and hurrying you into the living room to do the gift exchange. You’d decided to do a Secret Santa, drawing names and keeping your chosen person a secret until it was time for the unwrapping.

Much to your excitement, you’d pulled Eddie’s name. You’d debated over what to get him for as long as you could get away with before you finally came up with the perfect idea. Now that it’s almost time for him to open it, you find yourself getting nervous to see his reaction.

Everyone sits in a circle in the living room, taking up all of the furniture as well as the floor. You take one end of the sofa, and Eddie claims the chair closest to you. You watch as Nancy places all of the wrapped boxes and sparkly gift bags in the center of the group, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Eddie chose to sit by you.

“So, whose name did you get?” he leans over and whispers to you, those big doe eyes full of mischief.

“Well what fun would it be to spoil it now?” you counter, smiling at him as he rolls his eyes and sighs exaggeratedly.

Your attention is brought back to the group as Steve offers to go first, picking up his gift and handing it over to Jonathan. Jonathan shyly accepts it, smiling as he tears the tissue paper out of the bag to reveal its contents. He pulls out a few cassette tapes of his favorite artists, as well as a new strap for his camera.

“Dude, these are awesome!” he says, and you watch as Steve smiles proudly. “Thank you so much,” the shaggy-headed boy continues, leaning over to accept Steve’s fist bump.

“No problem, man. I know you were complaining about your current camera strap getting all worn. The cassettes were an obvious choice,” Steve jokes.

The room is full of smiles and laughs as the gift-giving continues. Jonathan gives his gift to Chrissy, Chrissy had drawn your name and gives hers to you — a beautiful charm bracelet and a cozy blanket you’d seen at the mall not long ago and wanted terribly.

That means you’re up next. Your hands feel clammy and nervous butterflies flutter in your stomach as you grab your gifts from the floor. Angling yourself in Eddie’s direction, you hand him the presents with a timid smile.

“For me!?” he asks, holding a hand up to his heart. “How’d I get so lucky?”

You feel your face flush, unable to maintain eye contact as your jitters get the best of you. You just hope he likes it. You hope it’s not too much.

Eddie’s careful hands unwrap the first present of the two, tossing the wrapping paper to the floor. The small box is exposed, and you feel like you might pass out as he takes the lid off. His jaw drops open, his head snapping up to look at you and then look back down at the contents of the container once more.

“What is it!?” Nancy asks, craning her neck from her seat to try and catch a glimpse.

“Custom guitar picks. For Corroded Coffin,” Eddie says, in awe as he just stares at them.

The picks were a red and black marbled pattern, with CC printed onto them on one side, and an image of a bat flying on the opposite side. You know how important his band is to him, how often he stays up till the asscrack of dawn practicing guitar, and so it felt like the perfect thing to get.

You wait with baited-breath as he continues looking them over, picking them up and marveling at them as if they aren’t just pieces of plastic at the end of the day.

“These are…. I don’t even know what to say. These are so fucking sweet,” he says, meeting your eyes.

“Don’t forget to open the second one,” you say, trying to bite back a smile.

He just smiles, shaking his head as he goes to pick up the second present. Reaching carefully inside of the big, sparkly red bag, he pulls out a vinyl record. Not just any record, though. It’s a copy of Master of Puppets, signed by every member of Metallica. Eddie’s favorite band. You’d scoured the internet for a legitimate and somewhat-affordable copy, completely scoring on this one. A good chunk of the money you’d made from your campus job went towards it, but it was more than worth it.

“No fucking way!” he shouts when he clocks the signatures scrawled out in marker. He flips the record around to show the room, everyone erupting in a chorus of “holy shit!” and “oh my god”.

He’s out of his seat in an instant, encouraging you to stand with him. He squeezes you in an impossibly tight hug, his arms so secure around you.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” he says, right against your ear. He pulls back a little, looking you right in the eyes. “Thank you so fucking much. What the hell,” he laughs, his teeth fully on display and the dimples coming out in his cheeks.

“Damn. She’s the best gift giver of us all. I think we might as well just call off Secret Santa for next year, no one’s topping that,” Steve says, getting a nod from Robin.

Eddie still hasn’t fully let you go, and it’s only when you become excruciatingly aware of all of the eyes on you that you pull away from his touch.

“Okay. So, Eddie, you’re next?” you say shakily, trying to gain your composure back. The boy stares at you just a second too long for you not to overthink it, before he’s nodding along.

“Yeah, alright,” he says, reaching for his gift.

The remainder of the gifts are exchanged rather quickly, but you really couldn’t tell anyone what they were if you’d had a gun to your head. All you could think about was the way Eddie hugged you. The look in his eyes when he opened both gifts. His eyes watching you intently from that moment on.

You want to buy him gifts like that all of the time, want to make him smile like that all of the time.

Chrissy and Steve cozy up on the loveseat, wrapped in each other as Christmas music plays softly. Jonathan and Argyle sit by the window, smoking from the new bowl the latter had been gifted by Robin. (That was the only gift you’d actually paid attention to as it was given, because Argyle literally cried). Eddie was relaxing in his chair, sipping another glass of spiked nog.

Robin and Nancy had pulled you into the kitchen as soon as they could, talking in whispers.

“Okay, so what was that? You got Eddie, like, the best gift ever.” Robin says, her eyes bulging at the end of the sentence.

“Yeah, I mean, that record had to have cost a fortune. And the custom picks!?” Nancy prods.

“Can I not just get my friend a nice gift?” you counter, your hand rubbing the back of your neck.

“Something’s up. I always know when something’s up,” Nancy says, her small mouth pursing in thought.

She’s right. She always knows. You don’t stand a chance lying to them — especially not both of them, together.

“Okay, fine! So maybe I have a little thing for Eddie…” you say. “But he definitely doesn’t like me like that! I just… wanted to get him something nice. It made me feel good,” you add, quick to defend yourself.

“I knew it!” Robin says, a little too loud, Nancy and you hurrying to shush her. “I knew it,” she says again, whispering this time.

“Just pleeaaase don’t tell him, okay? I don’t need this getting out—”

“Okay, babe, have you ever considered that he might like you too?” Robin interrupts, and Nancy nods.

“I— I don’t know! He doesn’t seem like the type to want a relationship, and… I don’t know!” you stumble, realizing you aren’t sure if you have a valid reason to confidently claim that he doesn’t like you.

The truth is, you just don’t know. And the unknown is terrifying.

“Why don’t you ask him out?” Nancy asks. “You know Eddie’s a sweetheart. I’m sure he’d love to go on a date with you,” she says, and you chew on your lip in indecision.

“I don’t know, you guys…” you mumble, nervously playing with your hair.

“Just, think about it?” Robin asks, just as the curly-headed man in question strolls leisurely into the kitchen.

“What are we thinking about?” he noses his way into the conversation, grabbing a few cookies off of a tray.

“Uh, nothing important,” you lie, giving him the most convincingly casual smile you can muster.

He bites into his cookie, leaning casually against the table. His dark eyes don’t leave you. Bringing an icing-covered finger to his mouth, he sucks the sugary substance off, making you flustered for the millionth time tonight.

Think about it, Robin said. You’re definitely thinking about it.

“Hey, um, could I talk to you alone, for a sec?” he asks you, bringing you back to earth.

“Oh! Y-yeah, sure,” you say, following him out of the kitchen. You chance a quick glance back at the girls, both of whom give you a thumbs up and an encouraging nod.

Eddie rounds the corner from the kitchen, standing in the entryway to the apartment. You’re just out of earshot of anyone else, and you’re nervous for what he’s about to say. You lean against the wall, his taller frame almost caging you in.

“Listen. I just want you to know how much I appreciate the gifts you got me. You didn’t have to do that,” he says sincerely. “No one’s ever gotten me a gift that nice before, besides for when Wayne got me my guitar,” he says, laughing lightly. “I just… thank you. I can’t thank you enough, actually.”

“I wanted to do it. You don’t even need to thank me. I’m just glad you like them, and you don’t think it’s too much,” you admit, glancing down at your feet.

“They’re perfect,” he says earnestly, getting you to look back up at him. “You’re… perfect," he breathes, saying it like it's a sigh of relief. Like it’s long overdue.

His eyes are so soft and sincere, his lips plump and pink as his tongue pokes out to wet them. His cheeks are tinged with the slightest bit of red, either from nerves or from the alcohol. You find yourself lost in him, your lips parting slightly as you both stand in silence.

Something above his head catches your attention, after a moment, and you look further up. You laugh in spite of yourself, making him look up, too.

Right above both of you, hanging from the arch in the ceiling, is mistletoe. The same mistletoe Eddie had been complaining about earlier. He starts laughing too, and then the both of you are stood there giggling like schoolchildren at the situation you find yourselves in.

When he’s regained composure, and your belly-laughs have subsided to a shy smile, you meet his eyes again. He steps ever-so-slightly closer to you, regarding you carefully down the bridge of his nose. There’s a playful look on his face, and one of his hands reaches out to gently rest on your waist.

“Since we’re here… should we..?” he starts, inching even closer.

“Yeah, we should,” you murmur, pushing up on your toes to meet him as he starts leaning down.

Your eyes flutter shut, your noses brushing together before your lips barely graze his. His warm breath fans your face, and then his lips are pressed fully on yours. You’re drinking him in, letting your mouths move softly together as you press your body against his. He smells like cinnamon and spice, tastes like the liquor from his drink, and you can’t get enough.

He’s pulling away too soon, reaching his hands up to cup your face. You never want him to let go, never want to go back to the reality you were living in before you’d kissed him, and the look on his face tells you he might be feeling the same.

“Wow,” Steve says from his spot on the couch, reminding both you and Eddie that you aren’t the only ones here.

“Awww you guys are so cute!” Chrissy coos, making you bite your lip in slight embarrassment.

Nancy and Robin high-five nonchalantly, before looking at you with huge smiles. Eddie’s arm wraps around you, pulling you into his side. You feel like a million bucks with him so close to you.

“You guys mind if we get out of here?” he says to the room. “I think we have a lot to catch up on,” he adds, glancing down at you with a wink.

You’d never been so happy to leave a party in your life. And maybe you didn’t even make it out of the parking lot of Steve’s complex before Eddie’s hands were all over you, but that’s your business.

[soobnny]

classmate au | lee heeseung

❝ hey, i’ll go ahead. i have to walk (name) home. ❞

HEESEUNG | jay | jake | sunghoon | sunoo | jungwon | ni-ki

look…. i know this says classmate au

BUT but but but hear me out

he’s your senior

maybe a year or two years older

AND he’s your neighbor, next door neighbor lee heeseung

do you see where i’m going with this

he walks you home to school every morning and every after class

your parents r also pretty close so you’re always hanging by each other’s house

THO he’s more of like an unattainable senior so handsome 😞😞 yall dont talk much when you’re having that little family get together

he tries talking to u tho … but you run away pretty fast

it’s always that awkward sitting beside each other while your parents talk to each other

…. awkward eye contact

SO YEAH he walks you to school every morning and after class by your mom’s request

heeseung always walks by the side of the road like the gentleman he is

will pull you by the waist when you attempt to even walk on that side so he can switch you two

and always waits for you outside your class or by the student council office to walk you home

sometimes 💔💔💔💔 during basketball practice … he does that thing where he goes home ahead so he can walk u home

the moment you walk into the basketball gym, wide eyes searching for heeseung ?!

he’s already dismissing himself .. saying goodbye to his friends and the couch and slinging your bag on his shoulder

you think he only views you as a little sister this SUCKS !!!!!

ah you are so wrong.

oh also lee heeseung student athlete and face of the school, just thought i’d mention

sometimes, he even appears in your classes to assist the teacher like what CAN’T he do

the teacher encounters some tech difficulties with the powerpoint???

“hey (name), can you call heeseung?”

you quietly slip out of the classroom and hurry to his

(he gave you his class schedule in case you ever needed anything… so you know where to find him…)

“excuse me, mr. hwang is looking for heeseung?” you’d tell the teacher

and their whole class would burst into SCREAMS and teasing as heeseung is pushed towards the door

“hey, you okay? how was your day?” he’d always catch up with you in that small time

dear god please have mercy.

he’d have a hand on the small of your waist to guide you along the hallways too

AND TUTORING

Lee Heeseung who is naturally good at everything is also smart

he tutors you at his house after class when you’re having a hard time

as a reward, sometimes, you guys would play video games

you ended up falling asleep at his house once and heeseung had to tell his mom to call yours so she wouldn’t worry

you wake up to blankets draped all over you and heeseung sleeping on the floor i’m so sad

karaoke is always fun in these family outings bc your family always makes you sing duets

atp you guys have every disney and broadway duets DOWN and memorized

though it does make you blush and all giggly when he makes intense eye contact while seeing to you

“now she’s here, shining in the starlight. now she’s here, suddenly i know. if she’s here, it’s crystal clear, i’m where i’m meant to go.”

he is a fantastic singer and he makes you forget to sing your parts sometimes

ALWAYS ENDS A SONG IN A HUG while your parents violently clap in the background

during the sports festival, the teachers ltrly let him join all the sports and he just accepts 😭😭

if he’s not playing, he’s facilitating

“do you have an event for this year’s sports festival?” he’d ask one night as he’s walking you home

“oh no. i’m just joining the cheer contest with sunoo on the first day.”

“do you think you could cheer for me?”

HE’S ASKING YOU TO CHEER FOR HIM

of course you say yes

and his eyes are on you in every sport he plays

basketball… volleyball… badminton… you name them all!

he’d look to you before serving the ball and point at you when he shoots a ball in bkb

heeseung would win every game for you

because the thrill in your smile is too wide to disappoint

and also because he has a big fat crush on you

goes to hug you after every game

“my good luck charm” as he liked to call you

BYEEEEEE bye leave me alone please

you’re HIS good luck charm

you pretend to be annoyed because he’s sweating so he teases you by hugging you even more

he lets you hold his spare shirt AND lets you wear his spare jersey ……

by the end of the week, he wins a shit ton of medals and a trophy for being the MVP

lets you wear some of his medals 😭😭 honestly maybe even all of them

would come to you after the awarding and take off his medals to put it around your neck too

OBLIGATORY SPORTS FESTIVAL PICTURE WITH YOUR CRUSH

you guys hold the trophy together … he has an arm around you … like he ltrly has the poses thought out already

asks you to be his girlfriend on the walk back home

handcrafted you a medal already in case you’ll say yes

engraved on it is “best girlfriend”

damn you’ve only been together like a few hours and he already awarded you best girlfriend

honestly congratulations

you bagged face of the school and student athlete senior lee heeseung

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! i just thought it looked rly cute and coherent. let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[hazbinwhoree]

Guardian angel pt.2? I'm already addicted to and love your stuff. Thx! :3

Guardian Angel

Part 2/3 Part 3

A/N: Can anyone guess how I’m gonna end it?

Even if Adam wanted to bring (Name) to the light, which he didn’t, the task would prove nearly impossible anyway. Because Adam was coming to learn that (Name) was quite the little sinner. In only one week, she exhibited each of the 7 Sins.

She got in a fight with her best friend and refused to apologize, even though it meant sacrificing their relationship. Pride.

She spent over a hundred dollars in one sitting online shopping for shit she didn’t need. Greed.

She spent ten minutes going through another girl’s social media page, making snide comments about her as she went. Envy.

She broke a lamp in a fit of rage over, well, Adam didn’t even know what her temper tantrum was about. Wrath.

She kicked Adam out so she could have some “Self Love Time” as she called it. Lust.

She was a glutton not of food, but of weed and alcohol, never satisifed unless she was not sober at least once during her day. Gluttony.

She would spend entire days rotting in her bed, neglecting all responsibilities. Sloth.

Long story short, Adam was pretty certain that were (Name) to die, she had herself a one way ticket down to Hell. The thought bothered Adam, and he realized that it really was up to him to make sure she got into Heaven.

“You’re sinful,” Adam blurted out one day while (Name) was listening to CPR by cupcakKe. (Name) paused the music. “It’s the song, isn’t it.”

“No… well, yes, but not just the song. I’ve seen you commit every single fucking one of the 7 Sins just this week. How do you expect to get into Heaven like that?”

“I don’t,” (Name) shrugged, going to unpause her music.

“You don’t care about going to Hell?” Adam was flabbergasted.

“Not particularly.”

“Well I’m your guardian angel, sweetie, so it’s my job to help you get into Heaven.”

“Really? Cause I don’t even know how you made it into Heaven. Their standards must be pretty low, I have a chance.”

“Oh eat shit,” Adam snapped, narrowing his eyes.

(Name) smirked.

“Have you heard of the Seven Heavenly Virtues?” Adam asked. (Name) looked bored. “I’ve heard of them… don’t know what they are.” “Well you’re going to do something that encompasses each one this week.”

And Lucifer be damned, Adam managed to get her to do something for every virtue.

She apologized to her best friend and they began to repair their relationship. Humility.

She gave a bunch of clothes she didn’t need to her younger cousin. Charity.

She left positive comments on that girl’s social media page. Kindness.

She did breathing exercises the next time she got angry instead of destroying her surroundings. Patience.

She stopped her copious amount of weed and alcohol consumption. Temperance.

She stayed on top of her responsibilities and began taking her job more seriously. Diligence.

Adam was proud of both her, and himself for getting her to do these things. Maybe she had a chance to get into Heaven yet.

“Why is it so important to you that I get into Heaven?” (Name) asked one night at dinner. Adam paused eating. “Uh, cause it’s my job, bitch.” (Name) rolled her eyes. “Yeah but you didn’t start doing your job until recently. What changed?”

“Maybe I never want to have to say goodbye.”

(Name) hadn’t been expecting such a confession. “You want me to go to Heaven… to be with you?”

Adam scowled, embarrassed. “No.”

They fell into awkward silence.

“For what it’s worth,” (Name) said. “I wouldn’t mind spending eternity with you.”

[ohbabydollie]

MORE MUTUAL BREAKUP 🙏🤲🧎‍♀️

i need a break from trying to write smut 😔

moments of u two!!

a lil comp of silly scenarios, dialogue, etc. i think would apply to reader n schlatt

— — — —

a guy who asked to do a podcast interview with you obviously flirting while schlatt is sitting along side the camera man, sucking his teeth and biting his tongue, staying quiet

you ignore the flirting until you notice schlatt is getting jealous by the second and a few more flirty remarks away from punching the guy

so you do the only thing you can think of

“it’s a little cold in here” you say rubbing your arms

“really? i think it’s kinda hot” the guy says taking off his jacket about to hand it to you before schlatt sprints into action

he takes off his hoodie and hands it to you

“thank you honey” you say grabbing it and receiving a small peck from him and putting it on, completing the rest of your interview with the hoodie on, all warm and cozy in schlatt’s jacket

———

you held a volleyball tournament (very similar to the dodgeball tournament)

everyone showing up in shorts and shirts meanwhile you were in your highschool volleyball uniform, fitting you tighter in some places than it used to

everyone sees the way schlatt’s brows raise when you first arrive

everyone noticed schlatt not taking his eyes off your ass whenever you would bend over, go retrieve the ball, receiving and in general doing anything

during breaks he’ll take you into a corner when he thinks a camera can’t see and kiss you, parting with a smile and slapping your ass as you walk off with a dopey grin

———

“my favorite song right now? it’s probably that song from juno” you say smiling “here is the church and here is the steeple”

“we sure are cute for two ugly people” schlatt chimes in

“i don’t see what any one can see in anyone else but youu” you both sing smiling

“she plays it all the time, it’s so annoying” schlatt teases as you stick your tongue out at him

———

schlatt talks about you when asked or if you’re even referenced

“y/n, she is genuinely the best most incredible person i know, the way you see her on camera is the way she is in person, just that she’s softer and sweeter. I am her biggest fan, genuinely, she’s the most perfect person i know and i love being with her, not even just sex, i like being around her as a person, they make me a better person and it’s like every time i have to leave her, i feel empty. a piece of me is filled when im with her. She could ask me to get back with her in five minutes, tomorrow, fifty years in the future, i wouldn’t care, i’d get back with her in a heartbeat”

———

“my gum is out of flavor” you say looking around for a place to throw it out

“hand me it” schlatt says putting his hand out before you spit out the gum softly onto his palm, schlatt wastes no time putting it in his mouth almost immediately after causing you to look at him with wide eyes

“Schlatt! that’s disgusting”

“eh, i’ve had your tongue in my mouth before” he says blowing a bubble

———

“hello?” you ask putting your phone on speaker for the chat

“hey toots”

“oh hey schlatt”

“so, jambo has been cryin, sittin in the spot he always sat down next to you n he jus’ misses you” schlatt says sadly “i was wonderin’ if you could come over n comfort him since he jus wants his mommy” he asks softly

“yeah, i’ll be over in a few” you say before quickly ending your stream and going over to schlatt’s

“oh my poor baby jambo” you say picking up the mewing cat “you missed your mommy, didn’t you” you ask the cat softly, sitting down next to schlatt and giving jambo small kisses

eventually you fall asleep with jambo in your lap and schlatt carries you both to his bed, laying you down gently and he takes a photo

it’s his background for the next few months

———

“you got any sauce for this?” you ask schlatt as you bite into your fries before he goes into his pantry and fetches a new bottle of your favorite sauce

“schlattie” you chirp “you hate this sauce” you say opening up the bottle

“i know, i just had it left from when you lived with me” he lies

“i took the last bottle with me when i moved out” you say downwards smiling “you bought a new bottle for me”

“whatever” he huffs, knowing that you were right, he hated that stupid sauce but found your reaction to him having it adorable

———

“yeah, i’ve always wanted a surprise birthday party, but i’ve never gotten one” you say softly as schlatt makes note of it

a few months later on your birthday, you realize that very few people have said happy birthday, one of the few being schlatt

it’s a lonely day, you spend some of it alone before you get a text from schlatt at 2 pm

cat babydaddy: get ready, i’m picking you up at 5

you happily get ready, showering, shaving, everything

once he arrived he has a large bouquet of flowers, a teddy bear and a box of chocolate covered strawberries, smiling at you lovingly

“you look great toots” he says handing you your bouquet and bringing your gifts inside, you thank him with a few kisses before he tells you to hurry so you won’t be late for the reservations he made

you giggle the whole way there, holding his hand as the both of you talk before you notice that he’s going past a bunch of restaurants before he makes you put on a eye mask which you do confused

he leads you out of the car and in through some doors, gently he takes the mask off of you to reveal a beautifully decorated venue

your friends and family jumping out to yell happy birthday at you as you feel yourself tearing up, turning to schlatt with tears of joy

“don’t cry, happy birthday toots” he says wrapping an arm around you and planting a kiss on your lips

lmk if u guys want some more, i gotta feed my mutual break up lovers

[bellesdreamyprofile]

earth angel - 1973 elvis

summary: 1973 elvis, meeting elvis for the first time - not accurate description of graceland (the song earth angel by elvis is available on spotify, and let me tell you that it's the best thing I´ve listened this week)

You first met Elvis at one of the numerous parties he hosted at Graceland. Your friend Julie was a friend of a friend of a member of the Mafia - nevertheless, a friend who still had the honour to be invited.

Books, soft music and warm drinks made you who you were. You weren’t one for fancy things, nor did you express a desire for them. Getting ready for a Graceland party wasn’t a particularly easy task, but you still managed to find a little dark blue dress that made your hair and eyes stand out. Little heels to match and off you went with Julie.

Once you were both standing in front of the mansion, your lips parted as you looked up with big, curious eyes. Your eyes filled up with salty tears, though you blinked them away quickly. This beautiful place was not there to cause tears or sorrow - laughter, smiles and silly jokes were Graceland’s signature experiences.

“Imagine meeting Elvis.”, your head snapped towards your friend, noticing she was still admiring the structure.

You let out a little chuckle and shook your head. “I’m happy even just standing here, honestly.”

Julie hummed and moved her eyes on another pair of girls entering the mansion. “You know, they say that Elvis doesn’t even come out of his bedroom during parties like these. Or he’s around and you don’t know it. Isn’t that crazy?”

Oh, to catch a glimpse of the King.

“Yeah, it really is.”, you said almost dreamily.

Julie quickly locked her arm with yours and started moving forward. “Alright, let’s go. I don’t wanna be the last one to come in.”

As soon as you stepped in, the sweet melody of laughter hit your ears. Champagne glasses clinking and soft piano playing in the background.

You peeked at the sound of the instrument and noticed three men playing and singing. Julie tapped your arm, pointing at a couple sitting by the couch.

“Look, that’s Mary. You know, she’s friends with Elliott who’s friends with Red.”, she explained swiftly, making you hum and nod. “Let’s go say hello quickly.”

And you did go say hello, but it looked like Mary and Julie had known each other for years. There were no topics you could relate to, so you decided to stand up and excuse yourself.

“I’m gonna do some rounds. See if I recognize anybody.”, Julie waved you off with a smile, making you sigh and walk away. Also, who were you going to recognize? The local baker?

But you still got to walk around and smile at anybody who smiled at you kindly. You refused the flute of champagne and grabbed the strawberry juice on the kitchen counter instead.

“Mr Presley— Ops. My apologies, miss. I thought it was Mr Presley.”, a maid stopped your actions in a soft tone.

Heat arose to your cheeks as you set the carafe back on the counter. “I’m so sorry. I-I should’ve asked—“

“Don’t apologize, child.”, she laughed a little. “Strawberry juice is Mr Presley’s favourite. Just thought it was him sneaking around.”, another chuckle escaped her lips. “We leave ‘em around the house.”

You nodded and smiled a little at the anecdote. “That’s sweet.”, you said softly and moved your gaze down. “I, uh, I’ll get going… Sorry again.”, the kind maid let you know once more that it had been no problem at all.

A deep breath fell from your lips as you walked away from the kitchen. A set of stairs that seemed to lead to a den caught your attention. You looked around and quickly realized that the crowd had officially moved to the living room. You were all alone. A quick peek wouldn’t hurt, though, right?

With the humiliation of that strawberry juice in your hand, you quickly found out that the stairs were leading to another corridor. One massive glass separated the corridor from the actual room. The sight of the green and gold, the animal prints and various instruments, made you audibly gasp.

Another look was thrown over your shoulder as you debated whether or not to step in and take a further look around the living space.

When’s another chance gonna come?

Without thinking about it twice, your hand caught the doorhandle and pushed it open. The faint smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, but knowing that the King could’ve been the one smoking, you sighed in comfort.

In the back there was a piano, significantly smaller than the one in the living room upstairs. But you decided to roll the dice and test your luck. You set the juice on the small table to your right and sat down on the stool.

Goosebumps covered your skin at the leather against your bare skin. Your back was to the door as suddenly you were aware that anybody could’ve walked in and get you banned from the property.

The realization didn’t seem to stop your fingers from dancing on the white keys.

“Earth Angel, Earth Angel

The one I adore

Love you forever and ever”

Your voice was as soft as the beautiful song was. A tape of thoughts from the day you first listened to the song played in front of your eyes. Your eyes closed as you were thrown back to the 50’s.

“I’m just a fool

A fool in love with you”

Your eyes snapped open and your heartbeat picked up. That hadn’t been your voice.

Your fingers ceased playing and you set your hands on your lap.

“Why’d you stop playin’, honey?”

Your lips parted at the voice and your eyes squeezed shut as the realization started settling in. Your voice couldn’t be trusted for a reply. Suddenly, you felt a warm touch on your back, a hand turning the stool in the opposite direction.

Your eyes still shut, but you could feel the gaze on your face.

A laugh. Oh, how you wanted to melt in place.

“Open your eyes, honey, please.”, a warm request, almost in a teasing tone. But you shook your head, your chin almost tucked to your chest.

“Aw, honey. I ain’t that ugly I promise.”

Those were the words that triggered your eyes. A man like that to be called ugly even only as a joke felt like a crime.

“Ah, there they are! Them pretty, little eyes.”, your gaze still set low, noticing slippers covering the King’s feet. And then he did the most unexpected thing. He pulled up the material clinging to his thighs and crouched down in front of you. Your eyes immediately finding the electric blue in his.

“Wow…”, your voice was a mere whisper, making him chuckle. If you had looked at him longer, you would’ve noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.

“I’m Elvis, honey.”, he said in a light tone. “And what’s the name of the pretty little thing playing piano in the Jungle Room?”

Your eyes lifted up to meet his again. “I’m Y/N. I’m sorry Mr—“

“Elvis. Mr Presley is my daddy.”

You nodded quickly as you thought you were in trouble for invading his personal space.

“I’m sorry, Elvis. It’s just that— Julie was talking to Mary and they’ve known each other for years and I couldn’t just jump in the conversation—“

Elvis smiled at you, already knowing where your words were going to lead. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“And then I stumbled in the kitchen for the juice, because I don’t drink— And then I found the stairs and, uh, now I’m here.”, you finished, utterly flushed with embarrassment. Elvis nodded and huffed.

“Quite the journey for a little honey like you, no?”, Elvis tilted his head to get a better look at you and felt his heartbeat speed up.

“I-I guess.”, your cheeks were now a rich cherry-red colour. You couldn’t hold his piercing gaze, so your eyes found comfort on the rings adorning his fingers.

“What do you say we sing another song, honey? Just you and I?”, at his request, your lips parted as you wordlessly nodded.

That was the song that sealed you two together. And the rest is history.

A/N: cutie pie - like chapter. soft reader and sassy/loving elvis are my all time favorite. if you have any requests, don't hesitate to let me know!

MASTERLIST

[mochis-cream]

11:34 — song mingi ♡

・ sometimes you wonder what life decisions you’ve made that wound you up by this clowns side, but then again, you wouldn’t trade him for the world

s.mg x gn!reader ・ ateez ・ 에이티즈 ・ sfw ・ non!idol au ・ wc: exactly 600 ・ genre -> fluff, slice of life, slapstick ・ one shot! -> masterlist!

content warning: established relationship, collective sillies, mingi minging, princess mingi realness, cursing, lowercase intended, not proofread

author’s note: guys idk what happened!! one minute i was asleep and then the next i was awake at 3 in the morning writing this 😰😰 anyways mingi mingi mingi i love mingi mmrph (*´∇｀*)

‘CAUTION! DO NOT TOUCH!!’

you were certain that was the warning you gave. you were positive, actually, because you're looking at those words right now, written in your handwriting on a sticky note attached to a prank canister. the same prank canister that currently lies in the doorway, open at your feet, several feet away from the only other person in the room who could've opened it. the same person who currently lies on the floor, covered in confetti and fallen cereal, staring up at you like a deer caught in headlights.

"uh- princess? okay, what the fuck. what happened?" you ask, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. the sight is both tragic and fucking hilarious: mingi, wide-eyed and looking like he’s just survived a cartoonish explosion, is splayed out in a sea of brightly colored paper and cheerios.

mingi looks up at you, still processing the events that led to his current predicament. “i... uh... think i touched something i shouldn’t have,” he says, his voice a mix of embarrassment and lingering shock.

you take a moment to survey the room. the open prank canister lies a few feet away, likely flung from mingi's hands during his moment of panic. “and by that you mean the thing that said ‘caution! do not touch!’ in big, bold letters? the thing with the warning written in my handwriting?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

he nods sheepishly. “uh yeah, that seems to be the case.”

you can't help it. the laughter bubbles up from deep inside you, and soon you're doubled over, clutching your stomach as you laugh uncontrollably. mingi watches you with a mix of amusement and annoyance, still covered in confetti and cereal, looking like the world's saddest party favor. a tried and true damsel in distress.

finally, you catch your breath and kneel down beside him. “my, princess, you really outdid yourself this time,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye. you start picking confetti out of his hair, still chuckling.

mingi huffs, sitting up and trying to shake off some of the cereal clinging to his clothes. “it’s not funny,” he mutters, but as much as he might complain, the corners of his mouth twitching upward speaks for itself.

“ah, yeah, you’re right. it’s absolutely hilarious,” you counter, pulling him to his feet. “why on earth would you touch something that i explicitly wrote ‘do not touch’ on?”

mingi shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “i dunno.”

you shake your head, still grinning. “there’s never a dull moment with you, is there?”

as you both start cleaning up the mess, you can't help but think about how your life with mingi has always been this way, full of surprises left and right. sure, not every surprise is a good one, but such is life. both of you have your own things to work out, and thing are never always perfect, but you wouldn’t trade this relationship for the world. besides, who else would provide such endless entertainment?

it’s funny really, how two completely different people can come to live and share their lives, and in the end create something beautiful despite the messes they make along the way.

as you scoop up handfuls of cereal and confetti, you glance over at mingi, who's trying (and failing) to stuff the prank canister back together, and it finally clicks. a thought that’ll stay with you until the day you die, ‘yeah, this is the goof i’m staying with for the rest of my life.’

truely, you couldn’t possibly be any happier. lucky you, huh?

[agaypanic]

I saw that you are writing about Roderick Heffley.

Can I make a request about Rodrick Heffley/reader (punk grunge girl)?

The reader has been friends with Rodrick for a year, she has her own band and she often hangs out with Rodrick.The reader writes songs for the band and when I realized that I fell in love with Rodrick, I wrote an entire album in his honor.(but since the reader replaced male pronouns with female pronouns in the songs, Rodrik did not understand about falling in love.)

You can make an awkward but sweet confession at the end.(like Roderick only got it when his friend told him directly about it, or when the reader was leaving town...)

I apologize if this is too specific and detailed. And I also ask you to forgive me if something is unclear, English is not my native language.

My Muse (Rodrick Heffley X Songwriter!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Inspiration for new songs strike you when you realize you’ve fallen in love with your friend Rodrick Heffley. But when you get the guts to play him a song as a way of confessing and he doesn’t understand, you figure it’s a lost cause.

A/N: reader is more of a pop-punk artist, and she wrote the only exception by paramore bc i said so. Idk much about instruments/terminology and also writing a character singing feels so awkward to me so sorry if it’s bad. Reader’s band is named after the one in metal lords (such a good movie ugh)

***

You and Rodrick had been friends for years, bonding over a shared love of music. As the two of you got older, you ventured into this interest by forming your own bands. Rodrick’s band, Löded Diper, was more rock, while yours, SkullFlower, followed more of a pop-punk genre. But that didn’t stop you and Rodrick from jamming and writing together during your free time.

With all the time you spend with Rodrick, you soon realized that your feelings for him grew beyond platonic, as cliche as it sounded. You obviously didn’t want to say anything and risk ruining what you had with him.

But you couldn’t help but have hope that Rodrick returned your feelings. No matter how many crushes he had, how distracted he became with his band’s latest business venture, or how often he got grounded to the point of not being allowed to leave the house for anything besides school, he always found his way to you. Sure, your heart ached a bit to see him so hung up over a girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day. But it was always made better when he’d sneak through your window just to sit with you when he should’ve been at home.

You didn’t want to bottle up your feelings forever, so you decided to write it all down in the form of lyrics. What started as a verse and half of a chorus soon became a complete song. And then one song turned into a handful. When you showed your bandmates, they immediately wanted to get to work on the instrumentals.

After a few long rehearsals and some convincing from the rest of the band, you decided to let Rodrick hear what you had been working on—half for his opinion and half as a love confession to your best friend.

“So…” As you walked to class with Rodrick, you kept having to tell yourself not to feel so anxious. Just think of it as just another band practice, and not you telling your best friend that you’re in love with him. “SkullFlower’s having a little rehearsal tonight. I think we’ve gotten a new song down pretty good. Did you wanna come?”

“Hell yeah!” Rodrick responded, seeming more pumped up than before you had asked. “What time were you thinking?”

“Probably around five. It’ll be at Steph’s place, since she has the best set up.”

The two of you stopped in front of your class, standing a bit to the side of the door to not block anyone’s path. 

“I’ll be there,” Rodrick said with a grin, patting your shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “See you then.” Then he turned around and left to go to his own class, leaving you to walk in alone. As you sat down in your seat, the only thing on your mind was how you hoped everything would go right tonight.

***

It was a pretty common occurrence for you and Rodrick to be at each other’s band rehearsals. So, none of your friends were surprised to see him pull up in his somewhat busted van while you tuned instruments and set up equipment. He jogged up the driveway with a grin and two slushies, one for him and one for you. Another common thing between you two was showing up with some kind of sweet treat just for the two of you.

“Hey guys!” Rodrick greeted everyone in Steph’s garage before handing you a large slushie cup filled with your favorite flavors. “Hey, rockstar.”

“Hi, Roddy.” You said, blushing at the little nickname before sipping your drink. You averted your gaze to somewhere else in the room, so you missed the slight pink on Rodrick’s cheeks from the nickname only you were allowed to use.

After a few minutes of mingling, you and the band got ready to play while Rodrick settled in a lawn chair. He sat directly in front of you, so you felt you had no choice but to look at him while fiddling with the microphone stand.

“This one took, like, a day to write,” you warned, taking a final sip of your slushie before setting it on the floor next to you. “It’s a little softer than the stuff we usually play, but I think it’s pretty good. But I wrote it, so I’m a bit biased.” 

“Everything you write is good, Y/n.” Rodrick tipped his slushie cup towards you. “Lemme hear it.”

You nodded and turned to Hailey. She started strumming on her guitar as Steph accompanied her on the keyboard. You swayed along to the music with closed eyes, internally counting down to your cue. 

Rodrick had probably heard you sing a million times, you’d probably sung more around him than you did alone. But your nerves made it feel like you were performing in front of a sold-out stadium for the first time, instead of in your friend’s practically empty garage.

“I’d never sing of love if it does not exist.” You plucked up the courage to finally look at Rodrick, who was already watching you with a smile so small you almost couldn’t see it. “But darling, you are the only exception.”

You didn’t know if it was the fear of knowing you were confessing your feelings to Rodrick or the bravery from opening your eyes and looking at him in the first place. But for the rest of the song, you and Rodrick maintained eye contact, making it feel like you were the only ones in the room. You wondered if he knew that the words were written just for him. 

As Hailey played the final chord of the song, letting it ring out, you gripped the microphone a bit nervously. At first, you thought the hard part was finally over. But then you remembered that Rodrick’s reaction was to follow.

“So… what’d you think?” Everyone eagerly awaited Rodrick’s response. Your friends knew about how deep your feelings went for him. And although they’d sometimes make fun of you for it, they were truly rooting for the two of you.

“That was awesome!” Rodrick said, throwing his arms out wide to emphasize his statement. You grinned, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet in excitement. “Whoever you wrote that for is lucky, dude.”

And in an instant, all that excitement and hope diminished. 

“Oh.” You let out a small sigh before clearing your throat. “Oh, yeah, they are. They are lucky.” You could practically feel the pitiful stares of your bandmates. That, accompanied by Rodrick’s now slightly perplexed expression, made you feel uneasy. “Um, I’ll be right back.”

You were out in a flash, running into the house and to the bathroom to hide. Your band watched you disappear before looking back at Rodrick, whose eyes were stuck on the door you had gone through.

“Wow.” Dylan was the first to speak, looking at Rodrick with a raised brow and crossed arms. “I know you’re kinda dumb, Heffley, but this might be a new low.”

“Excuse me?” Rodrick quickly rose from his seat, looking at Dylan, offended and confused.

“Oh, come on, Rodrick. Don’t play stupid.” Hailey said as she set down her guitar. “Who do you think Y/n wrote that song about?”

Rodrick thought about the question for a moment, wracking his brain for an answer but coming up with nothing. He shrugged, hoping that one of your friends would just tell him outright what was going on.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Dylan said. “She only invited one person to this band practice, and she only wanted to play that specific song.”

The look on Rodrick’s face was starting to make your friends wonder if you were better off without him knowing about your feelings. But suddenly, he gasped in realization, looking at each of your friends for confirmation of what he was thinking. When they all nodded, relieved that he was finally starting to understand, he grabbed your slushie from the floor, muttering something about being back in a minute. 

In the bathroom, you were trying not to have a total freak out. You wondered how you could play this off. Although Rodrick wasn’t the brightest, he could be observant and stubborn when he wanted to be. He’d probably ask what was wrong, and if you could convince him that everything was fine, he would probably start asking who you wrote that love song about.

After splashing some water on your face to calm yourself down, you opened the door, only to see Rodrick standing on the other side.

“Jesus!” You jumped in surprise.

“Sorry.” Rodrick laughed nervously. “You, um, you forgot your slushie.”

“Oh, thanks.”

You fell into an awkward silence, standing in the threshold of your friend’s bathroom and slurping down your drink so you wouldn’t have to speak. Eventually, both of you were out of slushies.

“Was that song about me?” Rodrick blurted out, tilting his head in curiosity. You blinked, not expecting that to be the question he would ask. It seemed like he already knew it was.

“That depends,” you said, toying with your straw as you looked down at the ground to avoid eye contact. “Would you still like it if it was?”

Your attention was pulled from your shoes by a hand lifting your head, forcing you to look up at Rodrick. He leaned in to kiss you, just for a quick second, as if he was scared of you freaking out. But you were left in a daze as he pulled back.

“I’d like it a lot more if it was.”

Overwhelmed by what had just happened, you flung your arms around Rodrick and kissed him again. He stumbled back a step but caught you by the waist, kissing back eagerly. The world around you seemed to disappear.

“Ahem.” Slowly and reluctantly, you and Rodrick pulled away from each other to see Steph looking at you amused, Hailey and Dylan standing behind her. “Mom made us all a snack, unless you guys are too busy sucking face.”

“Oh, shut up, Steph.” You said with an embarrassed laugh. Your friends headed to the kitchen, but you and Rodrick slowly trailed behind to sneak a few more kisses to each other.

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit

[writeforfandoms]

Roardin

Find my CoD Masterlist

Title is the song “Roardin” by Marcela Bovio. Highly recommend listening to it before/during/after reading. 

This idea started as musing on this headcanon from the amazing mind of @soapskneebrace​ and she gave me permission to run with it. And then, uh. This happened. I... have no idea how. This one got away from me. There was an entire subplot that I cut. Gaz wasn’t even supposed to be here BUT HE IS. Look idk I’m just gonna yeet this and run. 

Soap x plus size f!reader

You’ve loved Johnny for a long time, but you’re convinced the feeling is not reciprocated. So you keep it to yourself and, well, at least he’s still your friend. 

Warnings: Swearing, some very unhealthy mental state on reader’s part, they’re both idiots, idiots to lovers. 

Word count: 7.5k

The first time you met Johnny was at a party. Your friend Emily had promised you it would be a lowkey thing. 

So of course there were twenty people. 

You ended up sitting on a chair, watching Emily flirt with one of the others. You were trying not to be bitter, but it was hard when you felt so alone. You didn’t know anyone but Emily, and you weren’t great in big social situations like this. So you sat and watched people, holding a cup of beer that was slowly growing warm in the balmy night. 

Someone dropped down into the chair next to you, and you blinked at him. He was handsome, dark hair kept short, blue eyes bright. 

“Doin’ alright?” he asked, smile kind, gaze focused on you. 

You were so startled you blinked at him, owlish. And then you nodded. “Yeah, just, uh.” You shrugged, ducking your head a little. “More people than I anticipated.” 

He nodded, leaning back in his seat. “Aye,” he murmured. “Me too.” 

"Who are you here with?" You glanced at him, cautiously optimistic. So far he was nice. 

"Eric, the blonde over there." He nodded in the correct direction. "You?"

"Emily." You looked around for her. 

And, as if summoned by her name, she appeared at your shoulder. "I don't think we've met," she said, flirty smile in place, holding out a hand to your conversation partner. 

"John." He shook her hand and then looked at you. But you were too slow to respond, too startled - Emily had already moved in, smile bright as she started talking to him. 

And you leaned back in your chair, feeling frumpy and boring in comparison. You weren't good at this sort of thing. You weren't the most personable person, you couldn't stop and talk with anyone. You didn't have the same kind of social battery that Emily did. 

So you mentally wrote the night off as a loss and contented yourself with being on the outskirts of this conversation. Which was becoming more flirting by the moment. 

Yeah. You were definitely sidelined, especially when you noticed Emily shifting closer to him, tossing her hair back behind her shoulder, eyes bright and confident. 

Maybe you'd get lucky and she'd drop you off at home before she went home with him, or something. 

After half an hour of listening to them flirt, you'd had enough. You stood, touching the back of Emily's shoulder with two fingers to get her to pay attention. 

"I'm gonna get a ride home," you said, gaze flitting to John and then down to the floor. "It was nice to meet you." 

If he responded, you didn't hear it, already heading for the door. 

You wouldn't be missed. 

You would have liked to talk to John a bit more before Emily stole him away, but you knew you didn't hold a candle to her. In so many ways. 

You were used to playing second fiddle to her. 

You honestly never expected to see John again. Not unless Emily nabbed him as more than just a bed partner for the night, but you weren't sure that would happen. 

So when someone sat across from you at the coffee shop, you felt yourself stiffen and prepare to make an excuse to leave. 

Until your gaze met brilliant blue again. 

"Oh," you murmured, blinking at him. "Hi." 

"Hi." His smile was warm but still soft, and a little bashful. "Hope ye don't mind, spotted you as I got m' drink." 

"Not at all." You smiled, a little thrill zinging down your spine. He'd actually chosen to sit with you! "Just unexpected, that's all. How are you?" 

"Oh, dandy. Enjoying my time off while it lasts." He winked, leaving you little doubt as to how he was enjoying. "You?"

You shrugged. "Wishing I knew more languages to cuss out this paper," you said, light and cheerful. 

“School?” he asked, leaning a little closer. 

“Mmhm.” You sighed at your laptop. “It’s annoying.” 

He chuckled. “Anything I can help with?” 

“That depends,” you said slowly, blinking at him. “Know anything about Paradise Lost?” 

“Not really. Had to read a bit of it, but not much.” He looked sheepish now.

“Don’t worry about it.” You shut your laptop. “I’ll figure it out later. I’m an expert procrastinator at this point.”

He snorted and then grinned at you. “Oh, aye? Not one to get things done early?” 

“I try, and then things happen, and then I end up doing them last minute.” It was your turn to look sheepish now, shoulders hunching a little. 

He laughed, playing with his coffee. “Well, you get it all done.”

“I do.” You relaxed a little at the lack of judgment. “Are you studying?” 

He shook his head a little. “Military.”

“Ah.” You blinked. It made sense, looking at him. “What do you think of it so far?” 

He made a complicated expression. “I’m glad I joined,” he said, firm and sure. “There are… ups and downs. Like any job.” His lips twisted. 

“Understandable,” you agreed, leaning back in your seat. “You’re on leave, then? How much longer do you have?”

“A few more days.” He shrugged, watching you from under his lashes. 

“I hope you get to enjoy.” Your smile was small but genuine. Your phone buzzed on the table, and you looked down to check it, making a face. “Dammit. I’m sorry, I have to go, apparently my apartment is flooding?” 

He blinked at you but nodded. “Good luck,” he said, watching you shove your laptop into your backpack. 

You murmured your thanks to him and took off. Well. There went your mood. And also some good company. 

You didn’t let yourself really register the disappointment, though, pushing past it and shoving it down to think about never. 

Surely, that would be it. He only had a few days of leave left, he’d said so himself. There was no way you were going to see him again. 

You saw him again. 

Normally you didn’t really go out, preferring to stay in the quiet solace of your room. But your room was temporarily off limits while repairs happened from the flooding, and you were all off-kilter, so you decided to go out at the invitation of a classmate to a local pub. 

Dinner, you said. And one drink. Your classmate (a really nice girl named Claire) agreed eagerly. (Which surprised you - you were too much of a wet blanket for people to get excited about going anywhere with you.) 

The two of you sat at the pub and chatted. It was nice. It was easy. You had some musical tastes in common, which helped. 

You both settled your bills and then she waved at someone. “A couple friends of mine are here, do you want to come meet them?” she asked, happy and eager. 

You turned to look, and blinked when those same blue eyes met yours across the room. What were the odds? You recognized the blonde next to him - Eric. From the party.

What a small world.

“Sure,” you agreed shyly, ducking your head briefly. But you gamely followed Claire over to the table, introducing yourself and settling into your seat, shoulders hunched to try to take up less room. 

For a little while, you just sat and listened to the others, content to fade into the background. But slowly, John nudged you into adding your opinion. It was odd, but in a nice way. You didn’t mind. 

And when you finally checked your phone and realized the time, you made your excuses. You had to get up in the morning. 

“Do you want me to drive you back?” Claire asked, a little concerned.

“Nah, it’s not that far to campus.” You smiled. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, yeah?”

“Of course!” She beamed at you. 

To your surprise, though, John stood when you did. “I’ll walk you back,” he murmured. “And I’ve got a plane to catch in the morning.” 

“Right.” You grabbed your things and waved once more to the table before you headed out, John a few respectful steps behind you. The air was chilly as you stepped out of the pub, and you paused a moment to adjust. “I’m okay to walk back on my own if you’d rather just grab a ride,” you offered, looking at John. 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I offered,” he pointed out. “How’s the, uh, Milton thing coming?”

“Oh, I’m still procrastinating,” you admitted, ducking your head as you started walking. “My current plan is to bang it out on Saturday.”

He tipped his head back to laugh, beautiful and bright. “Aye, that’s a plan,” he agreed, fingers just touching your elbow as you crossed a street. 

You took a deep breath, nerves fluttering in your stomach. “You know… If you ever got bored… you could text me sometime.” The offer came out smaller than you intended, and you winced at yourself. No wonder nobody bothered with you. 

“Sure,” he agreed, so quickly you lifted your head to blink at him. He was already pulling out his phone. “What’s your number?” 

You rattled it off, and moments later your phone buzzed in your pocket with a new text. 

“Ah’m not always the best at texting,” he said, a hint of nerves entering his voice. “But, uh.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “Like I said, if you’re bored or want to chat or whatever. I get it.” 

His smile relaxed at that and he nodded. 

“Well, this is me.” You stopped outside the residential area, turning to look at him. “Thanks for walking me back.”

“My pleasure.” He shifted a little closer to you, eyes bright. 

For a moment, you two simply stood and looked at each other, the air thick between the two of you. Then a door slammed and loud laughter echoed from an open window. 

“Have a good flight, and stay safe, okay?” You smiled at him, one hand reaching out and then retracting. 

But he held out his arms and lifted one eyebrow in silent question. You smiled and stepped into him, hugging him. And oh, he was warm and he was a good hugger. 

You stepped back before things edged into longer than socially acceptable, and his hands slid from your back. 

“I’ll text you,” he promised. “Good luck with your paper.”

You nodded and let him go, waving briefly before you turned to head to your building. 

Honestly, you half-expected him to fall through. It was easy to not expect much of people, a well-developed defense mechanism. 

It was hard to be disappointed when you didn’t expect anything. 

So when he texted you the next day to say he was back on base, you were pleasantly surprised. 

And he didn’t stop texting, either. Sometimes he wouldn’t for days or weeks, but he always got back to you when he could, hours long conversations making up for the necessary silences. 

You didn’t see him in person though for months. When he finally had leave again, he was busy - going out with friends, hiking, playing football. 

You even managed to see him a few times. Out at a bar one night, Emily once again dragging you out. He talked you into going hiking with him and a few of his buddies. (That one you regretted a little, feeling self-conscious around them.) 

But you began to notice more about him.

John had a lot of friends, and he seemed to be pretty casual with most of them. Friendly bumps or hugs were normal for him. Despite how often he went out, he never arrived to events with a date, always on his own.

But he often left with someone on his arm. Often a girl - one time a guy. (Thinking very briefly about that had left you warm and flustered for the rest of the night.) Emily went home with him a second time, and she gushed to you about him the next day.

But there was no expectation of more. Just sex.

You had no idea how they did it, but, more power to them. As long as everybody was happy with that arrangement, you weren’t going to rain on their parade. 

Months turned into years, and you watched as some of his friends drifted away due to time and distance and whatever else. Most of your friends were transitory, in and out of your life. You watched as he changed his hair, growing out a single stripe for a mohawk. You watched as his confidence settled into something proven without being boastful. You watched as he hid demons and nightmares behind smiles, as his job took him around the globe. (Which you only knew because he’d text you sometimes about the views or the weather. Never anything identifying, but you hoarded those dregs of information anyway.)

You always sent him a birthday text, even if he didn’t respond to it for days. He often missed yours, which you brushed off. But he didn’t miss holidays, either showing up a few days beforehand (he always spent the actual day with his family) or sending you gifts. 

Your friendship had settled into something deeper, something that lasted. Something that withstood the time apart and the silences and the rigors of his job. 

You, however, stubbornly ignored that your feelings ran deeper. That you cared for him, too much. More than you should. More than he cared for you, certainly. But you held your silence and ignored the longing and did your best to simply be there and be the best friend you could be. 

Which, really, was easy in some ways. The two of you just got on, had from the very start. Arguments were rare between the two of you, and you were always able to pick right back up where you left off around his absences. 

It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable pattern, but it was a pattern, one you were content to hold. It was enough to be in his orbit, to circle around him. It was enough. 

So seeing a text from him made you smile, even in the slurry slushy rain-sleet of December. 

Gonna be home for three weeks. You got time?

You read the message twice. Three weeks was longer than normal, even with the holidays around the corner. Maybe he needed some extra time to recover from something? But you could find out, you didn’t need to push now. 

For you? Always.

Well. That had probably been too honest. But it had been months since you’d seen him, and he was often silent on top secret missions. So, yeah, too honest but undeniable. 

Should be back in two days. See you soon.

You hummed and put it out of your mind for now. 

But if you ended up cleaning your apartment… well. That was just in case, really. And it needed to be done. So there.

(Even in the privacy of your own mind, you weren’t fooling anybody.) 

Two days later, your phone started buzzing with an incoming call, and you picked up with a grin. 

“Not dead yet?” you teased gently in what had become nearly a routine for the two of you.

He chuckled, the sound soothing the ball of anxiety that sat in your chest every time he went silent. “Not yet,” he agreed. “How are ye, sweets?” 

“Oh, the usual.” You smiled a little. “You?”

“Mandatory leave,” he answered on a sigh. “Got some company, though. One o’ my mates is here for a week ‘fore going home to his family.” 

“Sounds like fun,” you agreed, glancing at your calendar. “Work is still the same for me - any time after 5:30 or so I’m open, or weekends.” 

“No plans?” Johnny asked as gently as he could. 

You huffed. “No. No plans.”

The words sat between you, heavy and thick, for three heartbeats. Then Johnny clicked his tongue. 

“Won’t do,” he said with cheer that felt a little forced to you. “I’ll fix ye right up!” 

You laughed softly. “Just whatever you have time for,” you assured him. “I’m fine.”

“Ye’re home alone with reruns on doin’ nothin’ exciting,” Johnny predicted, and damn it all, he knew you too well. 

“That’s neither here nor there.” Your gaze skittered down to the floor. 

“Then come out with Gaz and I. Tomorrow. We can meet at our pub.”

Your lips twitched entirely against your will. “What time?”

“After work.”

You huffed a little laugh. “Alright,” you agreed. “I’ll meet you there tomorrow.” 

“Excellent.” The grin was clear in his voice. “See ye soon, sweets.”

“See you soon,” you agreed, reluctant to hang up but knowing you had to go. Well. More like you had to let him go. But you made yourself hang up. 

Now you just had to get through work and you’d be able to see arguably your favorite person on the planet. And one of his friends. Who also worked with him. 

No big deal.

You still showed up at the pub after work, looking around for Johnny. 

All you saw was a bright grin and that mohawk before arms grabbed you in a tight hug, absolutely uncaring of the rest of the pub. You squeaked as Johnny picked you up for a quick twirl, something you protested feebly. You were not some teeny dainty thing, you didn’t want him hurting himself. 

“There’s my sweets!” he crowed, finally setting you down. “Come meet Gaz.” Keeping hold of your hand, he led you over to a table in the back, where a dark-skinned man was already sitting waiting. “Gaz, this is my sweets.” 

You rolled your eyes and gave Gaz your actual name, holding out your hand for him to shake. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“You too.” He smiled at you, easy and warm. “This idiot doesn’t shut up about you.” 

“Oh really?” You turned to Johnny with a teasing smile. 

Johnny shrugged, shameless. “Hard not to when ye send me packages,” he said, ushering you into a seat and finally releasing your hand. “I’ll grab this round, aye?” And he was gone before you could protest. 

You huffed a little laugh, shaking your head. “I hope he actually shares and doesn’t just dangle the packages in front of you,” you said, grinning. 

“Sometimes,” Gaz said with an easy shrug. “Sometimes he just hoards things.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like him,” you agreed, fondness bleeding into your tone, even as you turned a little to look for him. He was easy to spot, leaning up against the bar, probably flirting with the admittedly very pretty bartender (who looked mostly amused). The sight didn’t even hurt (much) - you were just happy to see him. 

“How long have you known him?” Gaz sounded curious, and you snapped your gaze back to him.

“Oh, years now.” You smiled. “Met him when I was in college and got dragged out to a party.” 

He chuckled. “Haven’t gotten rid of him since?” he teased, though the way he looked at you was sharp, assessing. 

“Why in the world would I do that?” You shook your head, amused. “He’s a good friend. One of the best.” 

Gaz nodded slowly but didn’t have a chance to say more before Johnny was back, putting down drinks in front of you. 

“Here ye are,” he said with a grin and a dramatic wave of his hand. “Take yer pick, sweets.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Gaz grumbled good-naturedly, making you laugh even as you picked your drink. 

“Something like that,” you agreed, grinning. “So, what was your favorite thing this time?” You took a sip of your drink, watching Johnny go off about some cafe he’d found on assignment in some other country, and how much it had annoyed someone he called “LT” when he stopped there for every meal one day. 

From there, the rest of the night was easy. You didn’t drink much, aware you still had to work the next day, but you relaxed. Gaz was funny and nice and interesting, much like Johnny. You ended up giving him your number at the end of the night and promising to send him packages too, so Johnny wouldn’t be the only one having fun.

Johnny’s overly dramatic clasping of his heart sent you into peals of laughter again. 

And when you needed to go, both men stood to see you out, offering to walk you home, which you gently turned down. 

“You gonna come tomorrow?” Johnny asked hopefully. “Arranging a football match.” 

“If you want me there, I’ll be there,” you agreed. “Just text me where and when.”

“Copy that.” He smiled, warm and beautiful under the street lights, everything you wanted and couldn’t have. 

“See you tomorrow, Johnny.” But you couldn’t resist darting in for one more hug, just one. Just to get a whiff of him to take home with you. He barely had time to respond before you were pulling back, bright smile in place as you took off for home.

You couldn’t let yourself linger or you’d do something damn foolish. 

To your surprise, Gaz checked in to ask if you got home safe. He really was sweet. You reassured both him and Johnny that all was well before you went to bed. 

You had plenty of time to get to the football game after work, since most of the players also had to work. You’d brought an extra sweater, in case you stayed out later than you meant to and got cold, and found a place to sit and wait. 

“Sweets!” Johnny jogged up to you, beaming, Gaz not far behind. “Been waitin’ long?”

“Just a few minutes.” You smiled up at him. “Did you two keep out of mischief today?”

“Sweets, I am hurt! Destroyed! Me, mischief?” Johnny pressed a hand to his chest, staggering back two steps with an exaggerated look of hurt. 

“She knows you too well,” Gaz drawled, and ducked the swat aimed at his head. 

“I take that as a no,” you said, laughing, watching the two tussle. “Save some of that energy for the match, I need some excitement today.”

“Bad day?” Johnny paused, one arm still wrapped loosely around Gaz’s neck, focus shifting to you so fast you were surprised he didn’t hurt himself.

“Just long.” Your smile felt brittle, small, and you tried to force it to be better. To be a better shield. “It’s fine, I’ve been looking forward to watching all day.”

“You don’t play?” Gaz asked, and you could have hugged him for keeping Johnny from fussing.

“Oh, no. I’ll kick a ball around, but I can’t keep up with an actual game.” You shrugged easily, gaze falling to the grass. “I’m just here for moral support when Johnny loses.”

Johnny puffed up, successfully distracted. “That was once! One time!”

Other people started showing up, and Johnny was quick to introduce Gaz around. You stayed where you were, waving to some people you knew, content to be on the edges of things. 

And of course Emily was there, with a few other women, all standing in a group chatting on the edges of the unofficial field. You hunched into yourself, gaze skittering away from her. 

You shouldn’t have come. But it was too late now. 

You kept your gaze on Johnny instead. It wasn’t hard. He was so vibrant, laughing and cursing and jostling the others. It was never a hardship to watch him. 

The game broke up eventually, and you weren’t sure which team had won. Or even if there had been real teams. But they all seemed happy, trooping together to the side with the women to talk about dinner plans. 

You did not miss the way Emily curled a hand around Johnny’s arm, leaned in close to him, flashed a pretty smile at him. You swallowed and looked away when he nodded, barely having to dip his head to get closer to her. 

You didn’t need to watch. You already knew where this was going. 

Thanking all your lucky stars that you’re quiet and invisible when you want to be, you gathered up your things. It was time to go. 

“Leaving already?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at Gaz’s question, hand flying to your chest. “I didn’t hear you come up,” you said, a weak defense for the way your heart thundered in your chest. 

“Sorry. Habit.” His lips twisted as he gave you a quick once-over. “Seriously, though, you out? They’re talking about getting food.”

“Some of them are.” You smiled up at him, holding your extra sweater tight to your stomach. “It’s okay, I’ve got food at home.” 

He looked over at the group, his brow furrowing a little. You didn’t need to, but you followed his gaze anyway to see Emily and Johnny stepping away from the group. 

Just as you knew would happen. 

Gaz’s jaw clenched and then he looked back at you with something far too close to pity in his eyes. “Come have dinner with me. My treat, yeah? We can have a nice quiet time of it, if you like.” 

You opened your mouth to refuse him… but nodded. He didn’t really know anyone else here, and Johnny had kind of abandoned him too. “Yeah. Okay. I know a nice place, if you like Italian?” 

“Sounds good to me.” He held out his arm in a gallant move, which at least got you to smile. 

The two of you were quiet as you walked, you steering, him simply keeping pace. 

“So,” he finally started, quiet, gentle, “how long have you been in love with that idiot, then?” 

You debated lying to him. He couldn’t know that for certain. He was taking a shot in the dark, testing his accuracy. But you knew as soon as you glanced at those brown eyes that there would be no lying. No getting out of this. So you deflated, eyes closing briefly, even as you pulled your shoulders in, sinking into yourself. “I’m not sure. A few years?” 

“You haven’t said anything?” He rested his free hand over yours, squeezing gently. Offering silent support. 

“No.” You shook your head, almost desperately. “No, and I’m not going to.”

He stopped, pulling you to a stop with him. “Why not?” He looked genuinely bewildered. 

You stared at him. “You’re joking, right?” You pulled your hand away, crossing your arms tight over your chest. “I mean, look at me. It’s obvious.” 

He continued to look confused, gaze darting over you. “Explain it to me.” 

You shook your head, taking a step back. “Maybe I should just go.”

“Whoa, hey, no.” He held up his hands, frowning a little. “I’m sorry, that was too much. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You breathed in slowly, letting the cold air burn down your throat and in your lungs, holding it for just long enough to begin to feel the sting before you let it out in a whoosh. But his pleading eyes got to you, and you sighed. “Alright, yeah. Okay.” 

“Thank you.” He stepped closer again and offered his arm again, looking hopeful. You tucked your hand in his arm again and finished leading him to the restaurant. But the silence between you now was tense, stifled. 

“This is it.” You nodded at the restaurant just up ahead, gaze immediately dropping to the ground again. 

The two of you got seated at a table in the back, because the owner knew you, and sat for a few moments, your shoulders winding tighter with each passing heartbeat. 

“Hey.” Gaz ducked his head a little, trying to catch your gaze. “I’m sorry. I won’t push. Alright?” 

You nodded, chewing on your lip for a moment. “Okay.” 

“Tell me about your job?” He tipped his head a little. “Or a hobby.”

“Well, I suppose that’s fair, since I know probably too much about your job.” Your lips twitched in almost humor but you drew in a deep breath to start talking. 

It didn’t take long for the space between you to ease again, and dinner was more relaxed. The two of you carefully danced around the subject of Johnny and your feelings, but Gaz had plenty of amusing work stories that he could share with you. (And some pictures. Your favorite was the one of their captain slumped in his chair at his desk fast asleep. You wanted to drape a blanket over him and leave him cookies. When you told Gaz as much, Gaz looked surprised and then undeniably fond.) 

Gaz paid, ignoring your arguments, and then offered to walk you home. 

“I hope he at least left you a key.” It was the first time you’d directly brought up Johnny since before you’d arrived at the restaurant. 

“Yeah, I’m set.” Gaz shook his head a little. “Don’t worry about me.”

You huffed. “You don’t know me well, so I’ll give you a pass on that this time,” you grumbled. “I am physically incapable of not worrying about my friends.” 

He ducked his head, smiling, and then shook his head. “You must worry a lot, then.”

“Fair bit, yeah.” You shrugged. “It’s okay.” 

“I know I said I’d leave this alone…” 

Your heart dropped. Well, you’d known that was too good to last. “What do you want to know?”

“How often has he done that?” 

“What, go home with someone?” You shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve kept track.” 

“How often does he do it when you’re out with him?” Gaz looked down at you, concerned. 

“Not all the time. And he knows Emily, they’ve, um, hooked up before.” You looked away, shrugging, fighting down your discomfort. 

Gaz blew out a breath, muttering something you couldn’t understand. “If you ever want to talk,” he offered slowly, carefully, “I’m here. Yeah?”

You stopped, then, frowning at him. “Why?” 

“Because you’re sweet, and you deserve to have someone support you.” Gaz shrugged. “Since that idiot is too blind to see what’s right in front of him, I’ll do what I can.” 

You held his gaze, frowning just a little, looking for any signs of teasing or deceit. But you found none. So you nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you.” 

He just nodded, smiling a little, and walked you the rest of the way to your apartment building in silence. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” You took one last look at him and then went inside. 

Life would be so much less complicated if you could just… fall out of love with Johnny. You’d probably even be happier for it. 

But you couldn’t. It was out of your hands - your heart had decided and didn’t seem to be budging any time soon. 

With a low groan, you gave up and flopped face-first into bed. Maybe you’d manage to smother yourself. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with all of this. 

Johnny texted you over the next couple days, but didn’t invite you anywhere. You knew one day he dragged Gaz off on a full day hiking adventure - you advised Gaz to bring chemical heat packs, because Johnny always forgot. 

But this was a good thing. A little space to get your head on straight again, to shove that longing back in its box where it belonged. Where you could absolutely bury it. 

Saturday you didn’t get an invitation. You just got knocking on your door, too bright and early. You stumbled over to the door, bleary-eyed, and yanked the door open to yell at whatever fool dared disturb you this early.

Only to be met head-on with Johnny’s puppy dog pout.

You glowered for a solid four seconds before you sighed and left the door open, going to the kitchen instead. You needed caffeine. 

“I brought you some,” Johnny bribed, following you in. “Here.” He held out a to-go cup. You could tell from the smell it was just the way you liked.

“What do you want, Johnny?” You took your cup, curling around it, not quite awake enough to be embarrassed about your state of dress. 

“It’s Gaz’s last day here,” he said, looking hopeful. “Was hopin’ you’d spend it with us.”

“You have plans?” you asked on a sigh. You already knew you’d say yes.

“Nah, figured we’d figure it out as we went.” 

“Fine. Let me get dressed.” You took your cup with you into your room, shutting the door pointedly. 

This was going to be an absolute disaster, you could tell. But you were going to see it through anyway. Because you were a damned fool. 

Johnny was quick to grin when you rejoined him, pulling you along in his orbit as he led. His mood was contagious, and always had been. Before long, you were no longer grumpy, smiling along and letting the other two lead. 

The day really wasn't a total disaster. Actually you had a lot of fun. You went on an easy hike, tried a new place for lunch, explored an art museum, and had finally stopped back at your pub for dinner and a few drinks. 

Gaz excused himself for a minute and Johnny leaned into your space, comfortable and easy. 

"Y'know, he might fancy you," he murmured with a conspiratorial wink. "If ye wanted to…" He wiggled his eyebrows, playful and suggestive. 

But you just stared at him, blank at first, but with growing pain. "He doesn't fancy me."

Johnny snorted. "Think I know him a bit better’n you do, sweets." 

You shook your head, disbelieving. He could not possibly be this blind. "He doesn't fancy me, Johnny. I know. We had a conversation." 

"You–what? When?" He leaned forward, eyes bright, clearly expecting gossip. 

You scoffed a laugh, looking up at the ceiling. "After the football game, when you left with Emily." 

He looked away briefly, jaw clenching. "Oh." 

"Yes, oh." You shook your head, looking at your half-finished drink and knowing you weren't going to finish it. "He and I talked a lot that night. He's nice. He's a good friend. But we both know he and I won't go anywhere." 

"Oh? Ye ken, do ye?" He leaned in, a challenge in his eyes. "How do ye ken?" 

"Because I love you, you absolute dafty." 

The words escaped entirely without permission, and your eyes went wide. The world froze. You couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. You just stared at Johnny as his eyes went wide too, uncomprehending. 

You didn't wait for reality to set in. You fled. Someone may have called after you, but you could barely hear through the rushing in your ears, your heart pounding so loud against your ribs that it hurt. 

You didn't stop until you were back in your flat, shaky hands locking the door. Which was about when reality set in. You'd told him. You'd told him. And there was no way to laugh it off as a joke now, no way to take it back or stuff it back down. 

Somehow, you ended up in the shower, pressed against the wall, gasping breaths humid and heaving. 

You weren't sure you'd ever recover from this. 

But you forced yourself to move. Because what else was there to do, now? You couldn't go back. You couldn't take it back. 

You had to move. 

In this case, that meant finishing your shower. Cleaning up your clothes. Putting on your baggiest sweatshirt, the one that made you feel okay because it was simultaneously like being hugged and being hidden, and curling up on the couch. And turning your phone on silent so you could ignore it. 

That wouldn't work forever, and you knew it. But it would work for now. You just needed it to work for now. 

Sunday was a blur. You barely remembered what you did. You had no idea what you ate, if you even ate. When you did dare to check your phone, you had a dozen missed calls and even more texts. 

You ignored the ones from Johnny for now. Just the thought threatened to send you back into a panic spiral. 

But Gaz should be safe. 

Soap told me. That was definitely a way to do it. 

Let us know you're home safe, yeah?

I get it if you don't want to talk. You don't have to. 

Flying out today. Text me when you can. 

Let one of us know you're safe or he might break down your door. 

Please.

You breathed slowly, reading through them again. Nothing about how Johnny felt, how he'd reacted. 

You weren't sure if that was a blessing or a curse. 

I'm fine. I'm home. I hope you had a safe flight. Sorry I didn't see you off. 

You hit send before you could talk yourself out of it, and promptly hid again. 

One more day and Johnny would be going to visit his family for the holidays. 

You left a full half hour earlier than normal to go to work, anxious and keyed up and unable to sleep. 

But you couldn't break your habits, not entirely. You scrolled past all the texts Johnny had left you, too anxious to read most of them, and sent him a quick text. 

Have a safe trip, John. 

You put your phone away again before the temptation to read through his texts got the better of you at work. 

But you couldn't hold off once you got back home. 

Most of his texts were check ins, requests to call him or text him, let him know you were okay. A few were apologies. 

But one… 

Sweets please call me, please. We can talk this out. I'm a damn fool but I swear I'll make it up to you. 

And that? Well, that could really go either way, couldn't it?

You buried your face in your pillow and cried. Just a little. For lost things and broken things. For things you couldn't have. 

Two more days of work and then you had the rest of the year off. You could make it two more days without breaking down. 

Have you talked to Soap yet? Gaz asked via text the next day. 

Not yet. You were a little ashamed to admit it. But only a little. 

Call him. We had a long talk last night. It will be okay. 

You stuffed your phone away again before your hands could start shaking any worse, anxiety and insecurity surging. 

You dragged yourself home from work Wednesday and froze. 

Johnny was standing outside your flat, shoulders hunched, hair wild like he'd been pulling on it. He spotted you and froze, expression torn between hope and fear. 

"Johnny?" You approached slowly, keys in hand. "You're… here?" 

"Aye." He scratched the side of his head, shifting his weight. "Talked to my ma. And Gaz. Ma told me to, uh. Fix this." 

"Fix?" Your heart went cold at the thought, and you shook your head. "It's hardly your fault, Johnny, you don't have to–" 

"Please." He put one hand over yours, light as a feather. Just enough to make you realize your hands were shaking even as you tried to unlock the door. 

You'd always been terrible at telling him no. So you swallowed and nodded, pushing open the door for the both of you. 

"Can I get you anything?" You glanced at him as you put your things down, kicking off your shoes. 

He shook his head, watching as you buzzed around for a minute, putting things away and getting water for the both of you anyway. You couldn't bear the look in his eyes, the quiet grief there. 

So you tried to head it off. 

"Really, Johnny, you don't have to fix anything. I'm… I'll be okay." 

"Were you ever going to tell me?" He watched you now, gaze pinning you in place. 

"Not if I could help it." You gulped. "It was… you didn't reciprocate, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship. I didn't want this exact thing to happen." 

"What made you think I don't have feelings for you?" He spoke slowly and carefully. 

"John." You shook your head. "I've seen the kind of woman you go home with, and they don't… look like me." 

He winced. Actually winced. "That's not…" He trailed off, anguished eyes meeting yours, struggle clear on his face. 

"It's okay." You even managed to smile. "I know I'm not exactly the standard of beauty, and I'm not anyone's first choice. I understand." 

"But ye are!" He jumped to his feet, pacing in front of the couch. "Sweets, I never ask those people over ta mine, ye ken? They ask me." 

You blinked. That was… surprising, granted. But it didn't change much. "Okay?" 

He sighed, short and sharp, tugging at his mohawk again. "I did flirt with ye." 

"What?" You blinked at him, absolutely stupefied. 

"In the beginning. Tried flirting. Ye dinnae seem open to it, so ah stopped." 

"You… with me?" You were still stuck on that, brain whirring, trying to go back through your memories of your early friendship with him. 

"Aye, with ye." He looked sad for some reason you didn't understand. 

"When?!" You stared at him, flabbergasted. 

He huffed a little laugh. "Plenty." He stared at you, halted several steps away. "Ye didn't ken?"

"I had no idea." You slumped a little. 

He snorted, a little wet, and scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Any idiot would be lucky to have ye." 

"Any idiot…?" Hope curled around your heart, delicate but growing every moment. 

Johnny crossed the room, dropping to his knees in front of you, hands bracketing your thighs. "I would be lucky," he amended, looking up at you earnestly. 

"You don't mean that." Tears pricked in your eyes, and you blinked rapidly. 

"I do." Slowly, carefully, one hand migrated to your knee. "I really do." 

You gasped at the intensity of his gaze, trembling a little. "But I'm…" you trailed off, hands clenched tight in the hem of your shirt. 

"Beautiful." He sat up on his knees, leaning in closer. "Warm." His other hand landed on your other knee. "Kind." Both hands squeezed gently. "One o' the sweetest people I ken." 

"Johnny…" You stared at him, lips parted, hope and longing and disbelief all swirled up together in your chest. 

"Please, sweets." He shifted closer to you, hands rubbing restlessly but never progressing past the tops of your knees. "Lemme show ye, prove to ye I mean it." 

"Okay." 

You weren't sure who moved first, you or him. But it ended the same: kissing him, one palm against his jaw, the other in his hair, while he pressed as close to you as he could get. You slowly spread your knees and he moaned softly, immediately shuffling into the space presented, still on his knees. 

"So sorry, sweets." He kissed you again, one hand lifting to the back of your neck, holding you where he wanted you. "Ah'm an eejit." 

"We both are," you whispered, thumb stroking over his cheek tenderly. 

"Now, sweets, won't hear a word against ye." He pulled back, grinning when you tried to chase his lips. "Got it?"

"Fine, but please don't stop." You tightened your grip in his hair, trying to pull him back to you. 

Another several minutes were lost to kissing that slowly calmed from desperate to just lovely, slower and exploratory and open-mouthed and messy. 

"Come home wi' me," Johnny murmured in between placing sweet kisses along your jaw. 

"What?" You felt a little fried, like this was the best kind of dream, or like you had short-circuited and needed to reboot. 

"Promised Ma ah'd ask." 

"She's okay with this?" You felt bashful suddenly, dropping your gaze to your knees. 

Johnny laughed softly, nuzzling right at your pulse. "Threatened to kick me out, actually," he said, humor in his voice now. "If ah messed this up." 

You hid behind one hand, hot and flustered and trying to hide just how pleased you were. 

"Nah, none o' that,'' he clucked, pulling your hand away from your face. "Wanna see ye, sweets." 

And how could you say no to those eyes? "I mean…. If you're sure she's okay with it…" 

"More than okay," he reassured you, leaning up again to press his forehead to yours. 

"Then… okay." Your eyes suddenly widened. "I'll have to pack, and I don't have gifts for your family!"

"Ach, donnae fuss," he grumbled, though he was grinning. Beaming, really. "You are a gift." 

"That was awful." But you relaxed again, smiling. 

"Mm. Might'a been." His grin turned predatory, short nails scratching lightly against the back of your neck to make you gasp. "Now, how 'bout I show ye what we've both been missing…? Show ye exactly how beautiful ye are." 

Doubt flashed, a big blinking light in your brain. But there was nothing in his eyes but sincerity and desire, nothing harmful in the way he looked at you, not a hint of doubt in the way he kissed you. 

So you breathed in slowly, wrestling down your inner demons, ignoring their cries and screeches. And you nodded. 

"Yes, Johnny." 

[freesia-writes]

Ch 25: Surrender and Dread

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.4k

Song: Eleanor Collides - Lifeboats (Official Lyric Video) (youtube.com)

.

The water crashed over the rocks with a steady, soothing roar as Luci reclined beside the river, lifting her water bottle to her lips before tossing it aside and stretching out luxuriously where they’d strewn their towels over the flat stones on the bank. Hunter gazed at the waters, swirling in blue and green hues, then allowed his eyes to drift over her. She folded her arms over her face to block the sun, peeking out at him with one squinty eye.

“It’s not fair that you can get into shape so fast,” she said with a smile, letting out a low whistle as Hunter took his shirt off and rested with his hands behind him. “I mean, are you kidding me? Look at you.” He glanced down, noticing that his soldier physique had indeed returned at a rapid rate, although this was no surprise to him, considering his engineering. The various workouts that they had enjoyed together had challenged him in new ways, allowing him to develop not only his strength and stamina, but his agility, flexibility, and stability as well. It helped that they were always outdoors, too, so his rich brown skin was a deeper tone than it ever had been during the years spent wearing blacks every waking moment. 

“Sorry,” he said, as unapologetically as he could. She laughed, shaking her head and burying it further beneath her arms. “It’s all your fault anyway,” he continued, grinning as she swatted blindly at him. 

“I regret nothing,” she grumbled, lifting one toned leg and flexing her foot back and forth. She’d worn nothing but a swimsuit for their hike, leaving him speechless at her free-spirited comfort in virtually any situation. “But I also have earned a good, solid ‘I told you so’ about the dancing. It took, what, like six lessons and you’ve got all kinds of lustful eyes on you now?” Hunter groaned, rolling his eyes in thorough disbelief, but she continued with a mockingly insistent look on her face, “You might not see it, but I do. But don’t worry, I’ll fight em off. I told you I was scrappy.”

“Thank you.” His sincerity was laced with sarcasm, and she loved every minute of it, lowering her leg back down and touching his foot with hers on the way. 

“You gonna help me with the next series of dance classes?”

“It didn’t sound like you needed a partner for those…” Hunter said, voice constricting a little. 

“Not at the studio,” she said with a smirk. “But maybe I can practice on you at home so I can get the best choreography for the students… Somethin real spicy.” 

“You didn’t get enough practice in your traveling dance troupe? That sounded… similar…”

“Oh it was,” Luci agreed, biting her lip at the thought. “You wouldn’t believe some of the politicians I entertained… It’s amazing how so many people, all wildly different on the outside, can be reduced to most of the same basic urges.”

“You love toying with people, don’t you…”

“Not toying with them,” she corrected quickly, a tinge of indignation in her soft, light voice. “That sounds mean. I love people in all their shapes and sizes. It’s just fun that, at the simplest level, we’re pretty much all the same.” She paused, considering her own philosophy. “But the differences add all the color and flavor! So being able to see both in each person – the common humanity as well as the amazing diversity – makes life a really interesting ride! No pun intended,” she added with a wink. “But yeah, my… insight… did get me a lot of tips and repeat customers. So everyone was happy.”

“Well that’s good.”

“Did I tell you about my Holonet correspondent job?” she asked, sitting up to face him more fully and adjusting her swimsuit top. 

“I don’t think so…” he murmured, furrowing his brow. She’d told him a lot, to be honest, and there were so many stories of random career endeavors and impulsive adventures that he was starting to feel lost in it all. She had a number of tattoos, each with its own tale of meaning (or debauchery), and she’d been across the galaxy almost as much as he had, it seemed, although under very different circumstances. There were more people in her life than he could remember, all referred to with fondness and specific names that he promptly forgot. And she seemed to have more luck than the average individual, having skirted some very precarious situations a number of times. It was getting to the point where he was fairly certain he couldn’t be surprised by anything from her anymore, and somehow that was comforting in itself.

“Okay, so I’m a journalist for the Galactic News Network, based out of Coruscant… I actually still have my apartment there, because it’s such a fun place to visit, and I might take that up again someday cause it was crazy money and lots of weird, awesome people. Anyway, I’m covering this underground Sabacc ring that was increasingly connected with a few crime lords in the area, and I have to go in disguise to try to get chummy with the right people. I get all set with a hidden recorder, some tracking beacons, and a killer outfit, and there I am, in the middle of it all. I thought I was pretty decent at Sabacc… until then… So I lost all my credits immediately, which was how I was supposed to get to the right table… But I had to pivot and use my people skills instead.” She leaned back on her hands, mimicking his position and turning her chin toward the sun, closing her eyes to soak up its warm beams as she continued a colorful tale of flirtation, deception, and drunken confessions that blew up into an entire scandal. “...and I got to write it all!” she finished cheerily. “So that was a fun one. But anyway – we’ve been sitting far too long. Dare you to jump?”

Hunter followed her pointed finger to the waterfall, which was not terribly high but poured into a churning pool below. He couldn’t decide if he felt lazy or just content, but when he caught the inquisitive sparkle in her eye, he was surprised at how willing he felt all of a sudden. Next thing they knew, they were standing on a relatively thin ledge, pressed up against the face of the rock wall with the water tumbling down beside them, and Luci reached a hand out to him, entwining her fingers with his before leaping into the water below and pulling him along. 

They crashed into the pool, tumbling beneath the sheer force of water cascading from above, and after a few strong strokes, they each burst out of the water, gasping for air. Hunter flung his hair back from his forehead, although some tousled chunks still fell across his eyes in the most gloriously attractive and viscerally satisfying manner, and Luci giggled as she swam to where he had waded into a waist-deep eddy where the water was much calmer. He rubbed his face with both hands, turning to smile at her as she stood up beside him, repositioning her swimsuit and dipping in the water one more time to make her hair lay perfectly smooth down her back. 

“Let’s try a flip next time,” she snickered, teasing the water droplets across his chest with a few playful fingers. 

“I think I’m good,” Hunter shook his head, looping an arm around her waist with seemingly lighthearted ease, but his heart was pounding in his chest. She sidled a little closer, straightening the dainty gold chains around her neck before resting her hands on his chest again. Her body pressed against his, wet and warm, and the sensation had a disproportionate impact on him as he pulled her close. 

“You are good,” Luci teased, nestling into his embrace and studying his face with soft eyes. She slowly lifted a hand, cupping the side of his face and brushing a thumb along the curve of his tattooed cheekbone, then lowered her gaze to his lips, flickering back up to his eyes with an unspoken question. Tingles raced through his veins, combined with an exhilaration that goaded him on, and he tilted his head slightly, watching her closely. She touched the tip of his nose with her own, cheeks curving into that disarming smile he’d come to enjoy so much, and then she leaned in a little closer, pressing her lips to his with a feather-light care that made his knees weak. 

How long had it been since he’d been kissed? He had no idea. Cadet shenanigans at 79s, probably. It felt like a different life. And yet here he was, arms wrapped around a beautiful, smart, fun woman whose mouth was gently caressing his own as her long lashes closed in blissful surrender. He could feel every inch of her melted against him as her hand slowly wove its way up the back of his neck, and his eyes fluttered shut as she sighed quietly against his lips. She pulled away for a moment, looking at him with the same delight and surprise that he had on his own face, then she came back for more, tipping her own head to kiss him more passionately this time. 

His nose pressed into her cheek, his fingers splayed across the middle of her back as his arms flexed around her, and his breaths were shallow and irregular as their lips met again and again. A fire was growing in his core, spreading out to his limbs, and as she idly slid one hand down his ribs and stomach, it burst into a full flame. When they finally separated, Hunter had to gasp for air, earning a giggle from Luci as she pinched his cheek fondly. She opened her mouth with a snarky remark, but then closed it, shaking her head minutely to herself and instead beaming at his flushed face. The myriad of emotions in his dark eyes were impossible to sort through, but she forgot them all when he suddenly moved forward more confidently now, cupping her face in both hands and doing his best to avoid being sloppy despite the wave of hunger that washed over him. 

His lips fit around hers, pressing together and coming apart with quiet sounds as her fingernails raked up his back. He pulled back for a breath, then carefully kissed her cheek, her jaw, beneath her ear, the side of her neck. Her skin was so soft, flecked with a few remaining water droplets, and the hint of her perfume was so sweet that his mind was reeling. His heart flipped in his chest, relishing the feeling of her pulse against his lips. She leaned her head to the side, exhaling in utter contentment, and he stopped himself suddenly with a ragged gasp, catching her attention as she looked at him quizzically. 

“Sorry,” he said, his voice far more husky than he’d have hoped as he dropped his hands to his sides and took a step back. “I didn’t mean to–” She put a finger on his lips, a starstruck smile on her face, and shook her head. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, except for stopping,” she said playfully, then surprised him by turning to slowly walk out of the river, flashing a glance back at him over her swaying hips. “But I’m gonna give you a minute to cool off; you look like you need it,” she winked, climbing to their towels with a giggle. 

Hunter stood in the water for a moment longer, rubbing his face again before folding both hands atop his head, staring into the distance in a dreamlike state. He took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through pursed lips, then followed after her. 

The hike back to town was punctuated with lighthearted conversation and playfulness, and Hunter felt as though he were walking on a cloud. He could still feel her soft, full lips and the curve of her body against his own. It was utterly distracting, causing him to trip a few times, earning gleeful snickers from Luci. When it came time to part ways, she grabbed his hand again, pulling him in close and melting him with those large green eyes that were absolutely full of adoration. His heart leapt into his chest as she gave him a farewell kiss, lingering just a moment longer to give his stomach time to join the internal acrobatics. Then, with a wave and a wink, she was gone.

He continued walking home slowly, taking in the scenery as though seeing it anew. The birds were singing as they dipped and soared on the gentle breeze that rustled through the trees. The salty air carried rich scents of cooking and agriculture from the cozy homes and farms nearby. The soft grass beneath his feet carried on across the swells of the meadows until they gave way to the lush forest, and the walls of his cabin appearing in the clearing ahead was a welcome sight.

Only when he dropped his bag on the table in the entryway, causing a few of the contents to tumble out, did he notice the flashing light on his comm. 

Freezing in his tracks, he felt an icy grip in his chest, followed immediately by waves of anger, confusion, and indignation that washed away the blissful warmth he’d been floating in.

He picked it up and clicked a single button, watching the small light flash a certain pattern of colors, and he didn’t realize he’d clenched his jaw until his teeth ground together, sending a shiver down his spine.

It could just be an animal… Or a friend… But the indoor sensors had been triggered as well… So unless it was the first occasion of breaking and entering that the island had ever seen…

He sighed, dropping the device back to the table as though it were repulsive to him, then headed for his room, fists tight at his sides.

.

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@littlefeatherr @thiswitchloves9904 @subbing-for-clones @heidnspeak @serretta

[4am-enha]

hiii I love your writes🫶🫶🫶

Can u write one where Heeseung is carsick during a trip to y/n's house. He has a fever when arriving there and it gets worse( it was more than carsickness) and y/n and the members take care of him ( he has a high fever during 2 nights)

I'm addicted to sick fics if u could write it I'd be so happy ❤️

cabin fever.

note: this idea was adorable, i had to write something for it. thank you and i hope you enjoy! muah xoxo.

description: basically the ask above! y/n and the guys go on a week's holiday at one of y/n's parents vacation homes far in the forest, but their plans become complicated when heeseung falls sick, hours away from home. comforting ot7 sick fic one shot.

genre: comfort, fluff, sprinkle of crack. maybe a little romance?👀

pairing: OT7 best friends enhypen x female y/n

warnings: mentions of illness and fainting, pills, strong language.

wc≈ 3.7k, ot7 one shot.

The trip had finally made its way out of the group chat.

After months of planning and anticipation, the beginning of their getaway together had now arrived. Nobody could wait- excited for the once-in-a-lifetime, unforgettable memories they would soon make together.

Y/N, Jungwon, Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Ni-ki, had all come together to go on a week’s trip away from this all-too-familiar town, and into the countryside. Luckily, Y/N’s parents owned a few vacation homes here and there, making it easy to find a place where the entire group could stay.

The plan was simple; a week away into the forests of the countryside while staying at one of Y/N’s vacation homes together. A chance to reconnect with nature and each other. And, if something did happen to go wrong, there was a small town five minutes or so down the road where they could find everything they could possibly need.

Early this morning, everyone gathered at the two cars that they would be taking to get to the house. After a lot of arguing and rounds of the game ‘rock, paper, scissors’, it was decided who would be in each car. In car one, there was Y/N, Heeseung, and passenger Jungwon up front alongside Jay, who would be the one driving. In car two, there was Jake, Ni-ki, passenger Sunoo, and driver Sunghoon.

There was a lot of pushing and shoving things into the car, but it all fit eventually. Well, after everyone tirelessly convinced Sunoo and Y/N that they did not need multiple bags full of non-essential things each. Everyone had been on the road for a few hours now with a couple of pit stops here and there, but now they were down to just 30 minutes left on the road trip until they would finally arrive at their destination.

Everyone had managed to keep their energy up until now, except for Heeseung. Currently, car one was doing carpool karaoke, but Heeseung was not joining in at all.

Y/N turned to Heeseung, who was sitting beside her with his arms crossed and head slightly tilted back, “Hey why aren’t you singing with us? Do you not like the song?”

“Yeah man, If I gotta sing, you have to as well. Don’t make me do it alone with these weirdos,” Jay joined, looking at Heeseung through the car mirror.

“Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying it Jay,” Jungwon huffed, leaning against the car window and watching the trees blur by quickly as they drove forward along the lengthy straight road.

“Can we just open a window? I’m hella motion sick right now,” Heeseung grumbled in response.

Y/N grabbed the closest water bottle and handed it to Heeseung, “drink some water, it’ll help. We should have had Hee sit up front.”

“That helps?” Jungwon questioned.

“Yeah, I mean that's what my parents told me whenever I asked to sit up front. They said they got motion sick in the back of the car,” Y/N shrugged.

Jay laughed, “Sounds like they were just trying to make up something so they wouldn’t have to sit in the back.”

“Whatever, they wouldn’t do that,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“First stage, denial,” Jay continued to joke.

“Be quiet. Anyway, I wonder how the other guys are doing,” Y/N laid back into her seat again.

Jungwon pulled out his phone, “I’ll text them.”

︵‿︵‿୨🩹୧‿︵‿︵

Meanwhile, Ni-ki and Jake were doing some intense thumb wrestling matches in the back of the other car, pulling each other around aggressively; the pair of them were very obviously cheating at the game. Sunoo peacefully scrolled through his phone up front, glad to be a little bit away from the mad duo in the back.

“Can you guys quit?” Sunghoon kept his eyes on the road as he scolded them.

“What?” Jake sassed.

“Quit bickering for the love of my sanity. You’re actually now making the car sway,” Sunghoon complained.

“It’s Jake's fat ass tilting the car,” Ni-ki snapped back.

“What ass? He has an ass?” Sunoo added, eyes still on his phone.

Jake threw his arms in the air, “I have an ass it's just not fat alright? AND I’M NOT TILTING THE FUCKING CAR!”

Ni-ki was in a fit of laughter, almost wetting himself right then and there.

Sunghoon shook his head, “seriously guys stop.”

Sunoo turned up the car volume, “Yeah shut up, my song is about to play.”

It was a cutesy song to which Sunoo somehow knew all the dance movements.

“Get Sunoo off of aux RIGHT NOW,” Ni-ki yelled in horror, covering his ears as if it was physically paining him. He reached up into the middle to grab Sunoo’s phone.

Sunoo began screaming, “LET GO OF ME, YOU CAN’T REACH UP HERE!”

Sunghoon suddenly swerved sharply for a half second, making everyone sit back and go silent in fear, “Is that seriously what it takes to get you all to shut the hell up?”

“Wait, Jungwon texted me,” Sunoo opened up his phone again after seeing the notification briefly light up on his screen, “apparently Heeseung is super motion sick or something. He said Heeseung really doesn’t look too great.”

︵‿︵‿୨🌡️୧‿︵‿︵

Heeseung had been asleep for a while now. The music had been turned down in order to let him rest for the rest of the drive. His head slowly fell softly onto Y/N’s shoulder, still sound asleep.

“Oh my god, I can feel the heat radiating off of him. He’s so warm,” Y/N whispered with a shocked tone to the two that were still awake.

Jungwon looked to the back of the car where Heeseung was with a concerned expression, “I don’t think that’s a normal symptom of motion sickness… maybe he should take some medication.”

“Shit, I left all the first aid and medication with Sunoo in the other car. How much longer until we arrive?”

“It’s just over there, I can see the house. I just need to pull up,” Jay answered.

As Jay pulled up to the vacation home and parked the car, Y/N slowly detached herself from Heeseung- gently propping his head back up to a natural, comfortable position. He was definitely one of the deepest sleepers amongst the friend group.

Everyone exited the car, reuniting with the other half of their friends who were getting out of the other car a few spots behind them. Niki and Jake came out of the car trying to headlock each other, but that wasn’t a surprise to anyone. In fact, you could probably get rich from betting on it.

Sunghoon approached Y/N and the others, looking absolutely drained.

“Oh my, what happened? Are you alright?” Y/N scanned him with worry that another one of her friends might be unwell.

“Now you listen to me Y/N. Don’t you ever leave me with them two ever again,” Sunghoon pointed toward the culprits, Jake and Ni-ki, who had finally let go of each other?

Y/N giggled, “So sorry about that. I forgot how they are when they’re left together for more than five minutes. I’ll rig the game of rock, paper, scissors for the journey home and make sure they’re separate.”

“Thank goodness,” Sunghoon sighed in relief.

Sunoo joined the conversation with wide eyes, “where’s Heeseung? Is he okay?”

“He’s still in the car. I didn’t want to wake him ye-“

Y/N paused when she looked toward the car again, spotting Ni-ki quickly approaching the car door, swinging it open while snickering, and taking goofy 0.5 pictures of Heeseung asleep. Then he started tickling him.

Heeseung woke up and swung at him, in which Ni-ki had only just avoided by luck. Heeseung grumbled grumpily at him, swearing under his breath.

“Caught you slacking,” Ni-ki teased.

“Just you wait,” Heeseung mumbled back while unbuckling his seatbelt. He took barely two steps out of the car and began to stumble over. Luckily, Ni-ki caught him before he made friends with the pebble-infested floor.

Everyone gasped and rushed over to help quickly, “Get him inside, right now.”

︵‿︵‿୨🍵୧‿︵‿︵

A little while later, Jay came rushing back into the house with a doctor from the city down the road. He had left almost immediately to get some help for Heeseung.

The doctor placed his bags beside the couch where Heeseung was lying down, surrounded by everyone who looked worried sick for their dear friend. The doctor then knelt down beside Heeseung and took his temperature. He did some general checking, making sure Heeseung’s vitals were good and everything like that.

“Tsk, he’s got a fever alright,” the doctor examined the thermometer, “he will be okay though. He’s just got an aggressive cold right now. Just make sure to keep breaking any spontaneous fevers that may come back and make him rest a lot. Oh, and give him these,” he handed a bottle of specific medication to Sunoo as he stood up, “just call me if anything worsens, or if anything happens that you’re not sure about.”

“Thank you so much,” Jay guided the doctor to the door and waved him goodbye, thanking him one final time before the doctor left.

Y/N took the medication from Sunoo and took two pills out into the palm of her hand. She sat down beside Heeseung with a glass of water in her other hand, “You gotta take these Hee.”

Heeseung weakly sat up with a little bit of help from Ni-ki. He then leaned toward Y/N with his mouth slightly agape, who then placed each pill carefully into his mouth and helped tip the glass of water into his mouth.

Jake approached with some random bags of frozen things that he found last second and placed them against Heeseung to help him stay cool. Initially, the cold made Heeseung flinch a little, but he accepted it, “really? Frozen cranberries?”

“It’s all there was man,” Jake apologised, making Heeseung chuckle lightly.

Jungwon had run upstairs but shortly returned with as many pillows as his little arms could hold. Ni-ki and Jungwon worked together to make sure Heeseung was as comfortable as lying on a couch could be.

Muffled quarrelling could be heard from the kitchen. It was Jay and Sunghoon.

Jay was trying to make some comforting and healing food for Heeseung with his own cooking knowledge, meanwhile, Sunghoon made laps around the kitchen looking at his phone, and reading out overly fancy complicated remedies and recipes. He may have been trying to be helpful, but Jay had to deny everything he suggested and constantly remind him once again they ‘do not have the ingredients for that shit.’

After everything was more settled, everyone left Heeseung to sleep peacefully on the couch while they went outside the back and started setting up the campfire.

︵‿︵‿୨🩹୧‿︵‿︵

Hours later, Heeseung awoke to the faint sound of obnoxious laughter and shouting from outside which travelled through the windows of the house.

He sat up, still drenched in sweat that his fever had graciously gifted him. He looked around for a few moments, processing everything. His eyes trailed across the empty glasses on the table beside him and a bowl filled with soup that had gone completely cold. He felt bad- Jay must have left it for him to eat when he woke back up, but he had slept far too long.

The sound of his friends having fun and enjoying themselves made Heeseung jealous. He was envious that everyone except him was getting to have fun and make the memories he so desperately waited for the second the plans were made. He couldn’t stand being so vulnerable, so he got up even if his body wasn’t ready yet.

Heeseung made his way outside the back, and toward the campfire where everyone sat casually talking about anything and everything that came to their heads at the moment.

“It’s your turn- oh, Heeseung’s up,” Jungwon announced upon seeing Heeseung approaching.

“You’re not supposed to be getting up and walking around yet Hee,” Y/N lectured him.

“I’m feeling fine,” Heeseung lied, taking a seat next to Sunoo, “what did I miss?”

Heeseung lasted about fifteen minutes before he began to feel lightheaded again, his body slowly tilting backward involuntarily every now and then. Except suddenly, he couldn't keep himself upright anymore and the next thing he knew, everything went black.

︵‿︵‿୨🌡️୧‿︵‿︵

When Heeseung awoke again, he was greeted by Y/N leaning over the bed he lay in, caressing his hair, while sitting in a random chair she had pulled up to sit beside him.

“How did I get here?” Heeseung sat up, taking in the room he was unfamiliar with.

“Well luckily for you, it isn’t a hospital room. We’re just in one of the spare bedrooms,” Y/N explained.

“Oh. Did I faint?” Heeseung couldn’t recollect any memory from just before he had passed out until now.

“Yes, you did,” Y/N sighed heavily, “and you gave us all a heart attack. You could have fallen forwards, straight into the fire Heeseung! You could have died, we could have lost you,” Y/N scolded him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mean to yell at you as soon as you wake up, but it was really scary. Promise me you won’t get up and do stuff when you’re not actually better,” Y/N calmed down a little.

Heeseung felt incredibly guilty, “I promise. I’m really sorry I put you guys through that.”

“As long as you keep your promise Heeseung. If anything, I’m partly responsible. I shouldn’t have left you unsupervised like that. I’m sorry,” Y/N shook her head in self-shame.

Heeseung reached for Y/N’s hand, holding it gently, “Don’t blame yourself.”

Y/N stuck by Heeseung’s side for the rest of the night, falling asleep upright in her chair, slumped slightly over herself uncomfortably.

︵‿︵‿୨🍵୧‿︵‿︵

The next morning, Heeseung awoke to Jungwon and Jake by the side of his bed rather than Y/N whom he had seen in that spot last. It took him by surprise, making him jump a little.

“C’mon bro, Jungwon ain’t that ugly,” Jake joked.

Jungwon slapped him on the arm harshly, “I change my mind, I don't need you in here.”

“Where’s Y/N?” Heeseung asked curiously, ignoring them, and wondering where Y/N had disappeared to, and if she had spent the whole night there in the chair that was still placed beside him. He hoped that she had not sacrificed her sleep for him.

“She went grocery shopping about an hour ago. She should be back soon,” Jungwon answered.

“Yeah, and she put us on babysitting duty,” Jake added, throwing a slight verbal dig at Heeseung.

On cue, Y/N returned loudly through the door trying to carry all the shopping bags inside in one trip, “I’m back!”

After some time spent putting away the groceries, Y/N made her way into the main room where Heeseung was already sitting on the couch waiting. Jake and Jungwon had gone outside to join the others on a nature walk. Y/N decided it was probably better not to tag along- she would much rather hear about the chaos of a walk they created when they return, rather than have to be a part of it.

“Good afternoon Hee, how are you holding up this morning?” She sat in the chair opposite him.

He looked at her with an eyebrow raised, “Did you stay in that chair all night?”

“Is it a problem?”

“Y/N, you don’t have to do that,” Heeseung sighed, feeling guilty again.

“It’s okay. If I would have left, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway,” she assured him.

“I’m sorry I’ve basically ruined the start of this trip,” Heeseung hung his head in disappointment.

Y/N sat up with an angry expression, “Don’t be ridiculous. You haven’t ruined a thing.”

Heeseung began to cough a bit concerningly, earning a worried look from Y/N.

“Stay put. I’ll be right back,” Y/N pointed at her eyes and then back at him as if she were warning him that she was watching him.

She rushed around in the kitchen and returned after a few minutes with two mugs, one in each hand, and a packet of Heeseung’s favourite snack hanging from her mouth held by the clench of her teeth.

“What’s this?” Heeseung took the mug from her carefully.

“I got some of your favourite snacks while I was out shopping,” Y/N pointed to the mug in his hands, “and that’s tea with a spoonful of honey. Trust me, it helps when you’re sick. Drink up!” Y/N took a sip from her own mug, sitting down next to Heeseung now.

Heeseung smiled at her and copied her, taking a sip from his mug; he widened his eyes with the pleasant taste, humming in enjoyment.

“It’s good right?” Y/N watched him eagerly.

He nodded enthusiastically, and they both giggled.

︵‿︵‿୨🩹୧‿︵‿︵

Later that evening, everyone gathered and agreed to do something in which they could include Heeseung this time so that he didn’t feel left out like he had felt the night before. Plus, the guys really missed him during the day. It just felt so empty when they weren’t all together, all the time.

It was decided that they would all do a movie night. It was a great idea, something everyone could enjoy, and something Heeseung could join without having to get up from the chair or out of the blankets the other guys had earnestly wrapped him up in.

They watched a few movies: comedy, horror, action. For the final movie, they put on a romance movie. It didn’t take long for almost everyone to fall asleep during it. Arguably, it was very late. But Y/N complained that she was the only one interested enough to not get bored and drift off to sleep.

Sunghoon was out like a light in the singular chair on the furthest side of the room. By his feet were Jay, Jake, and Ni-ki who had collectively fallen asleep together all huddled up in a shared blanket on the floor, knackered from the amount of yelling they all did during the horror movie. Light snores could be heard, but it wasn’t clear who was the one producing the snoring. It was probably Jake.

Sunoo and Jungwon shared one side of the couch. Jungwon’s hair was flopped all out of place, twinning with Sunoo’s hair beside him which was doing the exact same thing. They looked like two little pom-poms together.

On the other side of the couch were Heeseung and Y/N. Heeseung was fast asleep and had fallen asleep first out of everyone. It was excused though, because he must have been exhausted from the horrible illness fighting his body right now.

Y/N on the other hand, was wide awake. Her eyes threatened to close a few times here and there at the sight of all her best friends asleep so comfortably, but alas her eyes stayed glued to the TV. She refused to let the movie go to waste.

Beside her, Heeseung began to shuffle around and mumble to himself. From what Y/N could tell, he was still asleep. He must have been dreaming. She found herself staring a little at him, noticing his eyebrows furrowed together as if he were in pain. Before she could even tap him, his eyes fluttered open, meeting hers.

Y/N looked away quickly as if she wasn’t staring, and then looked back at him, “Are you alright?” She whispered, cautious not to wake the others so closely located to her.

“I’m alright, why are you still awake?” Heeseung asked, sitting up properly.

“The movie hasn’t finished,” she pointed to the TV.

Heeseung laughed, “How did we get to romantic movies?”

“It was my idea.”

“I mean,” Heeseung scanned the room of sleeping bodies, “I think I can tell,” he teased.

“Oh, whatever. It’s a good movie,” Y/N scoffed, diverting her attention back toward the TV.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable?” He whispered after a few minutes.

Y/N shrugged, “It’s not awful, but a little I guess.”

Heeseung grabbed Y/N’s arm and pulled her towards him, “come closer then.”

“Oh okay,” Y/N felt herself get a little shy at the sudden gesture.

Heeseung adjusted the blanket, snaking his arm around her and pulling her into the blanket with him, and smiled.

Y/N smiled back, “Thanks, Hee.”

Eventually, the pair fell asleep with their heads against one another.

︵‿︵‿୨🌡️୧‿︵‿︵

“Shut the fuck up you’re so loud.”

“You’re gonna wake them up.”

“Move, I want to take a picture too.”

“Ni-ki stop taking selfies with them, that’s just plain wrong.”

Heeseung’s eyes opened to the sight of the other guys hovering around him with their cameras in his face, giggling mischievously amongst themselves, “What the hell?”

Then it became clear as he felt someone’s arms suddenly move slightly around his waist. It was Y/N. They must have fallen asleep and somehow ended up holding one another on the couch. How it actually happened, he had no recollection of.

And because of Y/N’s reaction when she had finally sat up fully awake and realised- it was clear she probably had no recollection of this either.

“Oh my god that’s embarrassing,” she held her flushed face in her hands.

“Ni-ki I know you ain’t laughing like you weren’t all snuggled up with Sunghoon’s feet last night,” Heeseung teased defensively.

“WHAT THE HELL NO I WASN’T,” Ni-ki yelled back, clearly offended at such an insult.

“Don’t bring me into this,” Sunghoon rubbed the sides of his head, annoyed.

“Anyway,” Heeseung interrupted, “good news. I think I’m healed.”

“You better not be lying,” Jake squinted at him suspiciously, not believing it.

“No deadass, I feel so much better,” Heeseung beamed.

The guys cheered and jumped around in excitement, “We can finally start off this trip properly.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Jay asked amongst the sudden chatter.

Just then, a nasty-sounding cough came from beside Heeseung. It came from Y/N, and everyone looked her way immediately. She looked like she hadn’t even slept, even though she most definitely had.

Heeseung placed his palm against her forehead. It was very warm. She must have caught the sickness from him.

Heeseung laughed in astonishment,

“Actually guys, I think we got some other work to do first.”

🤒 end!! 🤧

note: all feedback is encouraged and any interaction is appreciated! thank you so much for reading! i enjoyed writing this. if there’s mistakes, pretend you ain’t seen NOTHIN. i got lazy with proof reading >< please let me know what you guys thought of this. was it okay?? also kinda unrelated but guess who got txt tickets for december! 😽 (it’s me)

[jujutsukatsuki]

I got bored and listened to the song Ex-Girlfriend by Melina KB. This is the outcome <3

“Camie. It’s good to see you.” His mom squeals as she stands from the table and hugs the model sized girls.

“It’s amazing to see you too Mitsuki!” Her ruby red lips smile before she looks to you. Her head cocks to the side like a confused puppy. What you wouldn’t give to knock that pretty little head off her slender shoulders.

You shake your head a bit before you give her a smile and stand from the outdoor dining table.

“Whose this?” She looks at Mitsuki who has a genuine smile as she looks at Camie. You listen to how Mitsuki explains that you’re Bakugou’s new girlfriend, that you’ve been dating him for over a year now.

Camie Utsushimi. You envied everything about her. How pretty she was. How she was good at everything. How happy Bakugou looked in photos with her from homecoming, prom, graduation.

Though you loathed the way she broke him. She had built the man before your eyes and torn him down in the blink of an eye like he was nothing but trash under her designer kitten heels.

He told her that he wanted to marry her, she rejected him, broke up with him on the spot and said she was seeing someone else, all in the same breath.

Even though it had been three years since the two had broken up, Camie still lingered.

The scarf his mom wore that Camie bought her for her birthday last year. Her phone number being favorited in bakugou’s phone until a few months back when he asked you to call someone for him. The way her name would pop up during stories from his friends and his face twisted up into regret and sadness.

The gold bracelet you found in his bathroom when you were looking for some rubbing alcohol, love notes stashed away in random places.

You couldn’t not envy her.

“Y/n, Y/n? Sweetheart see you alright?” You jumped when you felt a warm hand on your cheek, your eyes made contact with Mitsuki’s.

“Yeah, I’m.. I’m.. I’m not okay.” You whisper as you sit back down, Camie is long gone now, leaving just you and your boyfriends mother.

“Is it Camie?”

You silently nod

“You know, I prefer you over her.”

Your head shoots up as you look at the gorgeous blonde woman.

“Yeah, I mean, she shattered Katsuki, my son and I may have our differences but I’ll still be mama bear when I need too. She was also super bossy and only ever cared about looks. She never took an interest in stuff Katsuki liked. Always got on my nerves.” She sips her coffee like nothing happened. Like she didn’t just settle your nerves in a second.

“Honestly, I’m still only friendly with her because I like the gifts she sends.” She snickers and sets her cup down.

Your mouth opens as you stare at the woman. She snickers again “Honey, close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, now come on, we have to meet our boys at the restaurant down the street.”

You stand up with her and she locks her arm with yours. “You’ll never have to compete with her, I promise, Katsuki is head over heels for you.”

“Promise?” You ask her softly.

“Promise.” She confirms.

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 5: The Beginning of the End

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, smut, oral and fingering f receiving, p in v sex, the Harringtons make an appearance.

a/n: It has been a while my loves! If you've been following me at all, you know I've had a rough month. I really, truly appreciate every single one of you who has reached out and checked in! I appreciate you! This chapter is extra long to make up for lost time and it contains smut. It's my first time writing smut, so hopefully, I did not disappoint.

wc: 11.2K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎵

APRIL 28th, 1984 PHILADELPHIA , PA—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

If you wanted to be technical about it, the whole thing started with Argyle.

The two of you were backstage, sitting outside the dressing rooms killing time during the opener—some local band that you weren’t previously familiar with.

You had always appreciated Argyle’s ability to be friendly with everyone and float above the tensions, that was the case especially now when things with the others seemed to have fallen apart a little.

You were sitting next to each other on the floor, backs against the wall, as you were running him through some of the songs that had made the preliminary list for the next album and asking for his input while he threw a bouncy ball against the opposite wall. You liked working with Argyle, he was out of the box, creative, and one of the most technically skilled band members. You had been sitting with him for only 30 minutes and he had already made one of your songs infinitely better.

“What’s the move tonight, dude?” he asks you, nonchalantly as you scribbled down some of his suggested changes.

You shrug in response, “I dunno, I might just go home and sleep after this, maybe work on the arrangements for this—” You wave your beat-up notebook in the air, and he scoffs.

“You like never come out with us anymore,” he exclaims, “I miss when we all used to party together, dude. Now you are all dropping like flies and it’s not as fun anymore!”

It was your turn to scoff at him, “Please, I was never the life of the party, Argyle, c’mon.”

“Are you kidding, dude? People would always show up in droves to see you. Plus, you’re like totally fun. Remember when you and Steve did karaoke in Austin and you both got on the bar? That was totally cool.”

You chuckle at the memory and concede, “Yeah, that was pretty fun, but you still have everyone else!”

“Well, you took my dude Eddie too,” he points out without malice.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t come out since St. Louis—keeps saying he’s gonna stay in just in case you want to write with him.”

Of course, this is news to you. You hadn’t taken up Eddie’s offer to write together since he had spurned you in Missouri (and since he starred in a very vivid dream of yours). It wasn’t that you didn’t accept his apology (presented in the form of a ridiculously large flower bouquet) it was that thing would have been far too awkward at this point.

It wasn’t that you had a crush on him necessarily, you were pretty sure that mantle was still taken up by Steve to some extent, it was more that there was an undeniable sexual something between the two of you below the surface that your dreams had made obvious and you didn’t trust yourself to be alone in a room with him without wanting to rip his clothes off.

Obviously, giving in to your desires was a bad idea for a multitude of reasons but chiefly, because:

a. It would wreak havoc on the band.

b. You were certain Eddie wouldn’t reciprocate your advances.

But then… you had heard what Argyle had said.

“Wait, are you saying Eddie has been hanging out after shows just on the off chance that I may call him?” You confirm incredulously.

Argyle nods in response, “Yeah. Did you put a spell on him or something?”

“No,” you respond wryly, “I’m not that type of witch, I’m the bad kind of witch.”

“Well, you definitely did something to the dude, he’s been obsessing over whether or not you hate him and keeps trying to get me to ask.”

This takes you aback completely. Eddie caring so much what you thought of him that he’d be willing to ask Argyle, of all people to discreetly scope that out seems improbable so you continue to probe.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he obviously thinks you’re pretty and he’s just been waiting around for you to call him up, and he cares a lot about what you think of him, which is weird because last time I checked he kinda hated you—no offense.”

“How do you know all this?” You ask, ignoring the offense.

“He told me, duh.”

“Have you told anyone else this?”

“No one else has asked,” Argyle says plaintively.

“Well, how about we keep all of this between the three of us, then?” You propose.

Before the drummer can confirm, the thundering applause signaling that the opening act had wrapped up cut the conversation off.

Neither of you has the chance to continue the discussion before being rushed onto stage by a harried and high-strung stage manager.

Without knowing, Argyle had invertedly changed the course of everything.

***

EDDIE: We were in Philly. It was a great show—probably one of the best of that tour. The audience was feeling us the opener was sick and we were just gelling for what felt like probably the first time. It was like we were all finally on the same wavelength if that makes sense. No more guessing what the next move was or fighting to keep up. It was like we were finally learning to trust each other.

***

The Philly show was electric, all the elements had come together perfectly. You and Steve were particularly reveling in it. You spent most of the night singing into the same microphone, lips inches from one another, your hand grasping the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair, and eye contact unbreaking. At one point, you were certain by the way he had captured your bottom lip under the meat of his thumb, that he was going to lean in and kiss you on the mouth, a barrier that the two of you had managed to maintain this whole time.

The audience must have had a similar thought by the sounds of their cheers—a sound that seemed to have shaken both you and Steve from whatever spell you had been under because the next thing you know the pressure of his thumb was gone and his eyes were turned away from you and towards the crowd.

The rest of the show was spent similarly—the two of you toeing the line and the audience following your every move. It was easy to get addicted both to the applause and the intimacy.

After the encores were sung and the last bows were taken, though, Steve was back to barely being able to look at you.

The only time his gaze does flit to you, ever-briefly, is when you politely decline Argyle’s invitation to go out after the show.

“Come on dude, you said you would come if I looked at your song,” the drummer gives a half-hearted attempt at bargaining which only makes you giggle.

“I never said that Argyle,” and truly you hadn’t, “I said that I couldn’t go out because I had to make those changes you suggested.”

In response, Argyle begins to boo you, loudly and the others join in eagerly.

You roll your eyes playfully and bid goodbye to Argyle and the rest of the band when you part ways for the night and you notice that other than yourself, Eddie is the only one missing from the boisterous group but you try not to think too much on it.

Your efforts to push all thoughts of Eddie out of your mind seemed to have the opposite effect and it was like the thoughts themselves were digging their heels in and had found your mind to be a welcoming home.

You had made the song changes you had told Argyle you would and even tried to make some progress on your plethora of unfinished songs. As it turned out, you worked slower when you wrote alone.

You knew that as the remaining tour dates dwindled and the band’s return to LA drew closer, you eventually would have to approach Eddie again to write together. It was indisputable that whatever the two of you produced together was almost always better than what you accomplished alone.

How could you possibly approach him when you could barely look at him without dying of mortification? With Steve, at least, you could get some of the sexual energy out on stage, but with Eddie you didn’t have the same luxury and it stayed bottled up.

All of this, along with Argyle’s words from earlier in the evening made focusing nearly impossible and you gave up on writing all together, deciding to call it a night and head to bed. To your chagrin, the better part of the night was spent tossing and turning trying to evict the thoughts and ideas that had begun to formulate in your mind fueled by a lack of sleep, stress and desperation. And suddenly, you had an idea.

Admittedly, it was not a very good idea. It was actually probably a very bad idea. A ruinous idea even. And yet, you found yourself pulling the covers off yourself and stumbling into a pair of slippers, perplexed by your actions. You wondered, as you blearily shuffled down the identical hotel halls why you weren’t trying to talk yourself out of this idea—one that you were certain was going to change everything. Perhaps you were itching for a new thrill. Or maybe you were as selfish as everyone seemed to believe. Maybe it was the poison that had settled in your heart before you were old enough to know better, insisting that there was no other option for you. Or maybe you were giving yourself far too much credit and you were simply horny.

Whatever the reason, it brought you directly to Eddie Munson’s door.

***

EDDIE: I swear I thought I was dreaming when I saw her there, standing outside my door in this tiny pajama top and even tinier short. They had little cherries on them. I remember thinking they were so cute. Her hair was all a mess. I thought that was cute too.

After probably 5 minutes of us standing there in the doorway, I finally got my brain to work enough to invite her in. She seemed nervous at first. Sort of paced around the room, not saying anything for a while and then—I swear to God—she asks, “Do you want to sleep with me?” out of fucking nowhere. If I hadn’t been there myself, I would’ve never believed it. Hell, even telling you now, part of me thinks I made it up.

My brain short-circuited because I couldn’t even respond. I just stared at her with my jaw on the fucking floor, trying to remember what the signs of a stroke were.

***

“Are you serious?” Eddie spits out, voice hoarse with shock at your overly-direct question.

You nod, wordlessly, trying to ignore the panic that has begun to set in.

“Why?” he presses.

You shrug, which he doesn’t find sufficient because he nods along, trying to draw the reasons from you.

“We both like sex,” you explain, clumsily, “and I find you attractive and I think you find me attractive, too—” he nods feverishly at this—“so why not have some fun?”

You try to say this last part enticingly but aren’t sure you pulled it off until you see a flush play itself across his pretty features.

“Why me? Why not Harrington?”

Even though you had anticipated the question, you can’t help but steel yourself as you respond, “Because we like each other enough for it to be fun but not enough for either of us to get attached.”

You watched, with bated breath as the thoughts played out over Eddie’s features and when you see a flash of what could be hurt you entertain for the briefest moment, the idea that maybe someone could get hurt but the thought is pushed away as a lazy grin begins to spread over his face and a newfound cockiness color his features.

Suddenly, he is much closer, and the space between your two bodies draws thin.

“Now?” he asks.

“Yes, now,” you squeak out as he encroaches in on you, fingertips grazing the bare skin on your hips.

You take a step towards him, moving to stand flush against his hip, invitingly and weave a hand through his unruly bed head curls. You want him to know how much you want this—how much you’ve wanted this. It was inevitable really, there had always been a tension between the two of you. Whether it was the hot friction of dislike , the bold spark of creative partnership or the hot embers of sexual tension, the two of you burned for one another just the same.

He leans in for a kiss when your impatience gets the best of you and you rush to meet him halfway.

He tastes like cigarettes and cherries, a taste you revel in as his lips move languidly over yours. Suddenly, he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and lightly tugs, and a moan tumbles out of you.

“We can’t tell anyone,” you mutter into the kiss and it goes unacknowledged.

The cold of his rings meets your nipples through the thin fabric of your strappy pajama top and your body arches in response.

The kiss is broken you are left gasping for air. Eddie wastes no time in attaching his lips to your neck, his tongue tracing over your collarbone hotly.

The straps of your top are shucked of your shoulders and the fabric bunched down towards your middle and a trail of kisses following in its wake.

Your knees hit the edge of the bed, and the hands in your waist guide you down in a fluid motion.

Your eyes flutter as wet kisses are peppered over your breasts.

“Come on princess, let me hear those pretty noises,” Eddie murmurs into your skin, his hot breath covering you in goosebumps.

A heady moan escapes you, almost on command. It would’ve embarrassed you if you still had the decency to care.

A trail of kisses and suddenly Eddie is thumbing at the waistband of your shorts. You nod fervently when his eyes suddenly trail up to find you, but that’s not enough for him.

“Come on, baby,” he teases, “tell me what you want.”

You throw your head back in frustration and want and Eddie takes this lapse in response to run his hand sloppily over your clothed core.

“So wet,” he murmured, “so pretty.”

You let out a desperate laugh at this and his eyes are back on you, expectantly and any resistant you have dissipates.

“Touch me, please,” you sigh, half plea, half demand.

It’s not a hard sell because your shorts and underwear are gone in a flash and cold rings are pulling your thighs wide open.

You reach out towards Eddie’s curls for purchase, gently tugging him closer to your core, hoping he’d get the message.

A moment of clarity cuts through your haze and suddenly you’re pulling him up by his hair, forcing eye contact.

“No one can know,” you insists.

He’s all half-lidded eyes and dazed smile when he’s looking at you.

Leaning in to grab his jaw in your palm, you pull him close. This is important.

“Eddie, no one can know. Promise me,” you repeat again.

He nods in agreement, even though his expression leads you to believe you could’ve asked anything in that moment and he would’ve readily acquiesced.

“No one can know,” he affirms before hitching your body closer with a harsh tug on your thighs and disappearing in between your legs, mouth latching hotly to where you need him the most.

***

EDDIE: We started sleeping together that night. A no strings attached type thing. We had to keep it a secret. She didn’t want to hurt Harrington’s feelings which I understood. He was a good guy and anyone could tell he was head over heels for her.

And she was just… well, I guess she was just afraid. We were kind of the same in that way. Couldn’t hold onto anything without crushing it into dust.

***

MAY 1st, 1984–STATEN ISLAND, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

Eddie’s hands are curled around your thighs, keeping your body balanced on the flimsy tour bus bathroom sink. His silver rings dig into the soft flesh of your thigh in a way that you are certain will leave bruises in their wake.

You have to be quiet, you know that. Even if the rest of the band had taken a quick pit stop between Philly and New York to explore the Staten Island Zoo and the likelihood of them coming back this early was low, it wasn’t non-existent . This left you stifling your own moans into the back of your hand as Eddie rocked into you languidly and delicious.

Your hand moved to steady itself behind you as he lets go of your left thigh and places the pad of his thumb on the soft flesh of your clit, causing you to forget nearly everything.

He seems to anticipate your next move though, because his mouth is quickly on yours, tongue gliding over your bottom lip and effectively keeping you quiet.

The angle of his hips meeting your core and his nimble fingers worked together to bring you closer to your release.

“I can feel it, baby, you’re close aren’t you?”

You nod feverishly, eyes screwed shut, “Yes, so good Eds. I’m gonna cum,” you manage to squeak out.

“C’mon pretty girl, look at me,” Eddie instructs firmly, but you can tell by the strain in his voice that he’s not too far behind, “wanna see you when you cum.”

You force your eyes open and he rewards you by pressing his unoccupied thumb into your bottom lip which you greedily take into your mouth.

Your release washes over you in a wave and you watch moments later as Eddie finds his own.

The two of you are left panting for a few moments as you try to steady yourselves. Once you find your bearings, you lower yourself from the sink and adjust the sundress that was so carelessly shucked to your hips and Eddie busies himself with disposing of the condom discreetly.

Turning to the bathroom mirror, you make an attempt at taming your haphazard hair and fixing your smudged lipstick before making a move for the door.

“Well, that was nice,” you offer before spilling into the tour bus’s common space.

“Wait,” Eddie cries out as he’s still adjusting his belt, “where are you going?”

You shrug nonchalantly in response but don’t turn around, “Back to the girls’ bus.”

“You don’t want to… you don’t want to stick around maybe? We could do some writing?” Eddie sounds out of breath when he asks but you chalk it up to the sex.

“Better not. It might look suspicious,” you explain as you take the stops down from the bus, two at a time.

“Right, wouldn’t want that,” Eddie squeaks out and you smile back at him, grateful for his understanding.

“See you later, Eds.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything back, but when you look back after having boarded your own bus, he’s still standing on the bottom step, eyes still on you.

***

EDDIE: Let’s get the record straight about something though, I didn’t steal her away from anyone. She is her own person first of all, not some thing to be stolen. And second of all, she came to me first. Not the other way around. And! She and Harrington weren’t even really seeing each other. So, other than the lying, it truthfully wasn’t that bad.

But then again, does the truth even matter? Especially now? After everything?

INTERVIEWER: It does to me and to you too, I think, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

EDDIE: Has anyone ever told you you’re too smart for your own good?

***

MAY 3rd, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

It was easy, really, to keep your fling with Eddie a secret from the rest of the band. Most of them were barely paying attention to what you were doing anyway.

Nancy and Jonathan were once again preoccupied with waiting by the phone to hear from Jonathan’s mother, Joyce. Will’s condition had once again worsen and the two were on high alert.

Robin and Steve were busy sightseeing and pointedly only talking to you when necessary. They weren’t hostile, per se, (or at least, Steve wasn’t) but they also made a point to not invite you to their outing. You want to tell them to be wary of the paps since the city is crawling with them in a matter akin to cockroaches but you know better than to try to tell Robin what to do.

Argyle, for his part, is in his own world.

The two of you were essentially in the clear barring rehearsals, shows and any stray public appearance. Still, you couldn’t help but want to take precautions.

***

EDDIE: She would never sleep over. You know, after. She was too worried about what would happen if Steve or anyone else went looking for her.

It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did, she—we had made it very clear that this was a purely physical thing but, well, between you and me kid, I always knew it was never gonna be like that. At least not for me. I was in deep for way longer than I had realized.

***

Long, skilled fingers trace patterns along your naked spine. The movements are comforting, calming, you almost find yourself lulled to sleep. Except you know you shouldn’t—that you can’t.

Your eyes flutter open as you fight against the sleep that sets in. This isn’t your bed, you remind yourself, and you feel that in the brush of the sheets against your naked body that definitively do not feel like the sheets of your bed merely a few doors down. It’s a silly thought, truly, these sheets are probably the exact same as the ones on your bed and more so, you haven’t slept in your bed, a bed that is truly, strictly your own in years . Still, this does not feel quite right.

You will your body to stir, working actively against every nerve that is telling you not to move from the warm, comfortable haven you had found and the warm body next to you but you know better. This is a dance you’re familiar with: they ask you to stay but don’t really mean it and if they do it’s only to squeeze another quick fuck in.

“Why don’t you stay?” Eddie grumbles into your shoulder even though both of you already know the answer.

“What if someone comes looking for me, huh?” A question for a question, “it’ll be hard to explain to Hopper why I’m naked in your bed.”

“Bullshit. You’re one of the only ones Hopper doesn’t have to keep tabs on,” Eddie’s only partially playful in saying this.

“I miss my bed,” you rebut, plainly and the guitarist pouts in response.

“This is like the same bed, dude.”

“ ‘Dude’? You’ve been hanging out with Argyle way too much.”

“Whatever,” Eddie dismisses as his hand travels down along your spine to circle around the rise of your hip to the front of your body to pull you closer against his chest and you squeal.

His skilled fingers travel down to the apex of your legs and two of them swipe through your still-wet heat making you jolt. You’re still sensitive from earlier in the night and Eddie is using that to his advantage as he swipes over your clit.

You moan at the contact and your hips canter forward embarrassingly quickly.

“Don’t want to leave now, do you?” Eddie teases as he moves away from your clit to tease your entrance and you mewl in response. Before you know it a pair of lips are attached to your neck and two fingers are slowly, deliciously rocking in and out of your core. A hand moves up to grip Eddie by the hair as you moan.

“Just like that, please keep going.”

You feel Eddie’s length begin to harden against your back as his pace quickens and his thumb circles your clit bringing you closer to your third orgasm of the night.

“No fair,” you pant, as you feel a tightening in your lower stomach. “You can’t keep me around by giving me orgasms.”

He laughs at this, full-blown guffaws. “There’s no rule against it,” he says as his tongue slides over the shell of your ear. His fingers curl inside you and you gasp at the sudden pressure before succumbing to the feeling. Your release washes over you, unexpectedly and you cry out.

A few seconds reprieve give you a moment to come back to earth. You sigh contently feeling Eddie’s harden length against the swell of you ass.

It would be impolite to leave him hanging.

***

EDDIE: Not that I could complain about our arrangement.

***

You had fallen asleep. Accidentally, of course, but erroneously still. You realize this far too late as the harsh red numbers of the hotel room alarm clock blare at you angrily: 11:52 AM.

You scramble out of bed, covers flung in the process and you make a grab for your clothes that litter the floor. The sudden, frantic movement had inadvertently awoken the man sleeping next to you and you could hear the sleep in his voice as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Woah, woah where’s the fire, princess?”

“It’s nearly noon!” you respond, panic clear in your voice. “I accidentally fell asleep and now it’s almost noon!”

Your mind is overcome with worst case scenarios and conclusions that are easily jumped to as you imagine how this late morning can turn into your downfall.

Eddie tries valiantly to calm you down to no avail. You had done the one thing you said you never would: you stayed the night and now you didn’t know what to do with that other than panic and rush out the door half dressed and fully angered with yourself throwing a paltry goodbye to a very disoriented Eddie over your shoulder as you did so.

You try to fix your hair in the elevator along with your harried breath. Most of the band wake up late into the day, you try to remind yourself, especially after a night out.

It was not unusual to be walking the halls of your hotel room at this time, but you still felt overwhelmingly nervous walking back to your room in a way that you felt obviously gave away that you were coming back from a night of raunchy sex.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the elevator doors slid open to reveal Steve Harrington waiting outside your door. This is what you were afraid of. Certainly one look at you and he’d know exactly what you were doing and probably with who and that would spell the end of the Downsides, you were sure of it.

You didn’t say anything as you exited the elevator and slowly made your way over, hoping to prolong the moment before everything came crumbling down as much as you could.

A few steps in and you had caught Steve’s attention. When he looked at you though, it wasn’t with anger or disappointment but with nerves.

***

STEVE: My parents moved around a lot after I left home. Indianapolis, Chicago, Phoenix in the winter and Bridgeport in the summer, you know, regular rich folks shit.

It’s not like I could ever go back home but when they heard the band was planning on making the stop they wanted me to visit them and they wanted me to bring my girlfriend to meet them.  I hadn’t wanted to ask then, things were kind of awkward between the two of us, but they kept insisting. It’s like they didn’t believe I could’ve bagged a girl like her and they were willing to call me on it. So, I had no other choice but to ask.

***

You understood where Steve was coming from, truly, your own parents were rich and demanding. Plus, something about seeing your fake boyfriend waiting at your door after a night sleeping with someone else really made you susceptible to his request.

And really, there wasn’t a universe where you would say no to a request from  Steve Harrington, so of course you were going to meet his parents.

***

MAY 6th, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—30 ROCKEFELLER PLAZA

“So I heard you’re meeting the in-laws,” Eddie plops down in the makeup seat next to you

You’re backstage at The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer, getting ready for one of the few media appearances Hopper had managed to schedule during the band’s short stint in the city.

You can tell by the pinching between Eddie’s eyes and the snarl in his tone that he’s not in a good mood. You chock up his demeanor to the same thing that has dampened yours: the upcoming interview.

The lack of media appearances had been a welcomed change during the band’s time on the road and the adjustment back to them have been rocky. You, for one, are on edge at the idea of having to sit down with the smarmy, sexist, Chris Palmer who, on his late night show, had already taken a few swings at you for laughs and the thought of him having the chance to do so to your face, made you sick.

Which was why you barely responded to Eddie’s attempt t goading you and instead, shrug in response, tightly, “I guess.”

His eyes flit over you and his demeanor shift to one approximating concern. “Hey, you doing okay?” He moves closer, but not enough for it to be noticeable to anyone but you.

“Yeah,” you try to smile but it comes out a grimace, “just out of practice I guess.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I have an extra copy of Baldwin that I brought on accident if you want a distraction,” the book flashes in your periphery and this time your smile comes out genuine and unprompted.

While you can’t be one hundred percent certain, you’re familiar enough with the guitarist’s ways to know that this was no accident—he brought the book with you in mind.

You make a grab for it but have to keep yourself from leaning in for a hug at the risk of the others’ scrutiny and your makeup artist’s ire. Not knowing how else to communicate your appreciation, you give his shirt a quick—and hopefully discreet—tug.  He seems to catch your drift because his fingers graze yours purposefully as you move your hand away.

The brief touch shoots electricity through you.

“Thanks,” you murmur before watching him jaunt away to his spot between Argyle and Jonathan, both of your moods seemingly lifted, if only for a moment.

You’re grateful for the distraction although it barely keeps your attention and instead end up thumbing through the pages anxiously to the chagrin of your makeup artist who is clearly relieved to pass you onto hair once the final touches of lipstick are applied.

You thank her profusely before moving next door where, to the surprise of exactly no one, you’re sat next to Steve. Or at least you think it’s Steve you’re sat next to given how little you can see through the thick mass of hairspray clouding the air.

“They don’t call me ‘The Hair’ for nothing, right?” He says when you catch his eye through the fumes.

His hair stylists laughs a little too hard for your taste and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I thought you hated that nickname,” you say, settling into your chair, ready to play your part as the doting girlfriend.

He shrugs nonchalantly, “there are worst things to be called.”

You scoff in response, your previous concerns regarding tonight’s host bubbling up again, “I am sure there are.”

Steve turns to you fully now, offering a charming apology to his stylist that leaves her a giggling puddle, and you can feel his eyes scanning you in assessment.

He suddenly reaches over to the vanity in front of him, “The vending machine in the hall is totally broke, it gave me four candy bars. Do you want one?”

You look over at the bars in his hand which he has fanned evenly and is waving as if they’re a wad of cash and you grab one out of his reach.

“These are my favorite,” you point out as you smooth a hand over the wrapper, remembering all the times you would raid the vending machines at venues or backstage before an interview for them.

“I know,” he says, impishly.

“Harrington, be straight with me, is the machine really broken or did you get me my favorite candy bar just to butter me up?”

He nods,  self-satisfied, like a little kid happy to be caught doing something that they’ll know they’ll get away with. Your joint hairstylists coo in adoration at your dotting “boyfriend” and you can’t help but roll your eyes affectionately.

“You seem a bit nervous,” he explains, “and candy usually helps.”

You exhale a laugh at this and admit that he’s right, “candy usually does help,” before nibbling on the bar carefully  for the sake of your lipstick.

“So, what’s up?” He asks after a beat, while the hairstylists are preoccupied cleaning their tools, “are you nervous about doing our thing again?”

He says the last part with an overly-dramatic eyebrow waggle and you giggle.

What do you mean?” You ask, avoiding his glance.

He almost rolls his eyes at this but catches himself, knowing better.

“You just seem off, like nervous almost? But not in the usual way you are nervous about interview, but like different. Normally you’re just nervous because you overthink it but now it’s like you’re dreading it.”

You snort at the way he saw right through you.

“It’s stupid but, Chris Palmer has made jokes about me in the past, you know, about my dating history and things like that and I’m not really looking forward to hearing what he has to say tonight,” you explain, bashfully.

“What do you mean? Do you and Chris know each other?”

“No,” you respond, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, “he just is, you know, one of those comedians who pokes fun at celebrities and he loves making fun of women who ‘get around’ or whatever and well, that was my reputation before you… and the band.”

You see realization dawn on Steve’s features, it’s almost like he doesn’t believe anyone could ever be mean to you.  Realization quickly turns to anger.

“And you think he’ll make fun of you tonight in the same way? In front of everyone?”

You shrug at this, “maybe, he’s not exactly known for taking it easy on his guests, but I’m used to it, it’s annoying though.”

Steve shakes his head aggressively at your dismissal and bolts up from his char, “No, I’m going to go talk to Hopper or something, have him tell Palmer’s people he needs to cool it or we won’t perform.”

He’s marching down the hall now, purposeful and quick. You make a beeline after him running ahead to cut him off.

“Woah, hey, Steve, you do not need to do that.” The last thing you want is the band being labeled as difficult to work with this early on.

Standing in front of him with your hands flat on his chest, you suddenly become very aware of all the eyes peaking out of the different green rooms to watch the exchange curiously, band mates and crew alike.

Steve grabs one of your hands lightly in his and gives it a tepid squeeze.

“I’m sorry but I am not sitting up there tonight and listening to anyone say anything bad about you.  That’s just not going to happen, okay? Please trust me, I won’t do anything crazy, I’ll just talk to Hopper and we’ll figure this out. I have your back, remember?”

You study his face as he says this and are caught up in the earnestness etched into every corner of it.

“Okay,” you finally say, softly and back away from his path, “thanks.”

And you watch him go.

***

STEVE: Hopper hadn’t known about the Palmer thing. He wouldn’t have booked us if he did. When I told him, he was pretty peeved and we immediately went to go talk to the stage manager—some smarmy  guy whose name I don’t remember.

Told us essentially, that it was no use, that Palmer wrote his own material fresh before each show.

Well, after that, Hopper and I track down Palmer in his dressing room and, you know, we give him a shake down.  Old school style. Like back when Hopper was on the force. … he did most of the shaking down, don’t get me wrong, I was definitely going to get in there, but he seemed to really enjoy it. Plus I had just gotten my hair done.

***

When Steve reappears in the green room half an hour later, Hopper is trailing him smiling giddily. 

Coming up to your side, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans into your hair to murmur, “We took care of it.”  The giant grin Hopper is sporting lets you know that they had and you exhale a sigh of relief, curling a hand against his bicep gratefully.

You spring back a few seconds later when you feel Eddie’s heavy gaze from the spot he occupied next to you, eyes boring into all the places your body is touching Steve’s.

You can sense Steve’s confusion at the lost contact but before anything else can be said or done, the stage manager appears to move escort the band to the sound stage saving you from having to navigate the complex social dynamic of interacting with your fake boyfriend who wants to be your real boyfriend and your band rival turned friend-with-benefits. Gratefully, you allow yourself to believe for the first time, that maybe luck would be on your side and tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

***

NANCY: Do I think Chris Palmer had a personal vendetta against her? No, not going into that night, anyway. I think he was just a misogynistic idiot who didn’t know what to do about a talented and beautiful woman who also did whatever she wanted.  His mind couldn’t wrap around that.

That was true for a lot of men back then. And now too.

JONATHAN: It felt like Chris had a personal vendetta against her.

***

The first half of the interview went well enough.

The band was welcomed with great fanfare and everyone filed towards the couches in the center of the stage next to the large mahogany desk Chris sat behind. You and Steve were, of course, together at the forefront and you could hear the collective cooing when he helped you down the platform.

The interview started out mild, questions about the tour and being on the road. Thankfully, Steve took the helm for most of them with the band weighing in throughout.

To your surprise, Chris directs his next question to you and Eddie.

“You two are the newest additions to the band, how has the transition been coming from working as a solo artist and from a band of a whole different genre to the Downsides and what made you want to make the change?”

The question was surprisingly insightful which took you a second to process and come up with an answer that wasn’t “Well, Chris, we were forced to join The Downsides at the risk of our careers ending completely.”

Eddie beats you to it, “The royalty checks are better than they are when you’re in a metal band for one—“ it takes the audience a second to realize this is a joke, but when they do the laugh pays off— “but honestly, I like the stability. What they don’t tell you, kids, is that too much rock and roll can be bad for you.” He says this part directly to the camera with a devilish grin.

“What about you?” Chris turns to you once the laughter subside, “do you miss being a free agent?”

You ignore how pointed that feels and smile in response.

“Not at all, the band has been super welcoming and there’s something really rewarding about working together to make something great happen.”

“Don’t miss your old duet partners at all?” The host needles.

“No, not really. At the risk of sounding cheesy Chris, I think I found my forever duet partner,” you punctuate your response with a pointed smile at Steve.

The audience eats your response  up but you can tell that Chris is not ready to let it go. Luckily for you, a well-timed commercial break saves you from further questioning.

When the cameras start rolling once more though and the segment is reintroduced, Chris flashes you a wolfish smile.

“So, does this mean you’ve settled down a bit more, now that you’re a one-duet partner type of gal?”

The question makes your throat run dry because you know that there’s another, much tricker question behind it.

“No, not at all. It’s nice to be a part of something,” you respond placidly.

Chris barely lets you finish before launching into, “well the press sure does miss writing about you! Did you know that, in the last year, you were one of the most mentioned stars on Subrosa, popping up a total of 65 times only rivaled by one Evelyn Hugo in 1967.”

You don’t really know what to say or where this is going but the feeling of dread in your stomach grows.

“In fact,” he continues, “why don’t we play a game that we cooked up with the help of your Subrosa mentions?”

Games were something Chris did with his guests pretty frequently and they varied in execution but in nature there was always something a bit embarrassing to them and tonight was no exception. But instead of going after the band as a whole, this game was targeted specifically at you .

It was a guessing game, “Simple enough,” Chris touted as his assistants bring out giant blown up headshots of various male celebrities, guess which of the men you had been involved with according to the media and which ones you hadn’t been. The joke of course was that you had been linked to all the men whose pictures had been provided.

The looks of shock on your bandmates’ faces perfectly countered the one of self-satisfaction painted on Chris’s smarmy face.

You felt Steve stiffen beside you, leg twitching as if he was getting ready to stand up and leave. Or punch Chris. Before he can, you place a stabilizing leg on his thigh and giving a squeeze. You didn’t want this to diverge into a fight and you refuse to let this vile man make a fool of you on live television.

“Well, this won’t do,” you smirk at Chris. “You only have half of my list out here, Chris! You’re missing quite a few other fellas. I thought you wanted to make this difficult.”

“Oh?” The host is clearly not expecting your response but has no choice to lean in since you clearly have the audience’s attention, “and who could we possibly be missing?”

“The crown prince of Monaco, for starters,” you respond, evenly, “and the entire Harlem Globetrotters ‘83 starting lineup—“ the crowd guffaws at your clear exaggeration, “—and most importantly, this guy,” you reach over to grab Steve’s chin and affectionately squeeze his face. At this, laughter turns into applause and from where you are sitting on the shared couch, you see Chris’s jaw tighten.

“Is there anyone who’s hasn’t made the list?” he cries, trying to turn the joke back on you.

“You, for starters,” you respond playfully, and then add before he can say anything, “but who knows? Maybe this band thing doesn’t work out and in a few years time I’ll become washed up and lower my standards and you and I can give it a shot.”

Before Chris can retort, Steve cuts in with an over-exaggerated, faux-jealous, “what about me?”  That kicks off a jokey bit of banter between the three of you that takes the show all the way up to comercial.

***

NANCY: There was a second part to the game.   

ROBIN: Yeah, that second thing was just mean. It was essentially the same premise as the first guessing game but instead of guessing different men she had been associated with, it was different nicknames she had been given by the media. They were not very nice names either, “Siren of the Strip”, “Heartbreak of Hollywood”, “Pop Music’s Maneater”, you get the gist.

Of course, like with the last “game” the joke was that it had been all is them.

***

The names had been a surprise.  You didn’t know how to react and neither did your bandmates although you’re pretty sure you can feel the heat from Eddie’s glare from the other end of the set.

Still, you kept your cool and  immediately admitted that all of them seemed familiar and instead turned the conversation into criticisms of each of the names, which was gaining too many laughs for Chris to try to stop it.

“See this one I don’t like at all,” you say, pointing to Malibu Minx that had been professionally printed on a giant poster board in newspaper font.

“Whys that?” The host asked wolfishly.

“Malibu Minx? Are you serious? Anyone with half a brain knows I’m from the Hills, not Malibu. Honestly, it’s a little insulting.”

“Come on, they can’t be that different,” Chris still plays along, even though your comment did not go where he wanted it to.

“Not at all! The Hills is where all the directors and actors live, Malibu is where divorced dads take their kids during their monthly weekend visits. It’s like, here on the east coast… well, I can’t think of an East Coast equivalent. Chris, help me out, where do you take your kids during your monthly visits?”

***

ROBIN: You should’ve seen his face when she said that.

NANCY: His first divorce had just gone public a few weeks prior. Guess it was still a sore spot. Not that he didn’t deserve it, he did, but he wasn’t used to his guests fighting back like that. The rest of the show was… tense and then after the show ended Palmer lost his cool.

STEVE: Honestly, I wanted to punch the guy since he brought out his stupid  little games, but I was willing to leave things as they were that night, especially after she had put Palmer in his place, but we get backstage after the show and he starts yelling at her about having “embarrassed” him or something like he hadn’t essentially called her a bunch of names on live tv. Before any of us could even do anything though, Hopper had him pinned against the wall, saying stuff like “I thought we had come to an agreement about the jokes, Palmer.”

He gave him a good shake down, you know how intimidating Hopper can be. Plus Chris looked like he had never been in a fight in his life so he was shaking in his boots immediately. Security had to come to get Hopper off of him and we were all thrown out after that.

ROBIN: Yeah, we were never asked back after that not that we would’ve gone back.It was a shame for him, really, that 1984 episode of The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer was one of the most viewed episodes in the ten years he was on the air.

***

You return to your hotel room in the early hours of the morning, after having gone for celebratory drinks with Hopper and the rest of the band.  Everyone had been thoroughly impressed with the way you had held your own against Chris and even previously-icy Robin seemed impressed and warmed by you.

You hadn’t had much of an opportunity to talk to Eddie throughout the night, something about the undecipherable expression he wore most of the night had left you curious and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe hearing your entire history splayed out like that in front of him and the rest of the world had soured you and he no longer wants anything to do with you.

As you’re getting ready for bed, the ringing coming from the hotel phone jolts you.

“Hello?” You breathe out, harried and confused into the handset.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you did I?” Eddie’s concerned question statics over the line.

“No,” you respond, relief coloring your tone, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, really, I was just thinking how hot it was when you told that dickbag off and I was wondering if you’d be up to me showing you that.”

“Showing me what, exactly?”

“Showing you how hot I think you are. If you’re up for it, of course?”

25 minutes later, with Eddie’s face buried messily in your pussy you’re near inching closer to release when you hear him muttering into the soft skin of your thigh while two of his skilled fingers begin pumping in an out of your tight heat.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, seeing you all hot and desperate to come on my fingers like this would make me think you are a minx.”

Hearing him call you that so low and growly, left you burning all over and you keen into his hands. Knowing his words had the intended effect, Eddie smirks into your thigh and speeds up his fingers.

“Only for you,” you respond once you can find your voice again.

Eddie give a low moan at this and in an instant he clamors up onto the bed and moves to replace his fingers with his dick.

“Say that again,” he challenges as he swipes his tip through your folds and you cry out.

“I’m a minx for you,” you nod along to what you’re saying, hoping that it makes him more eager to stop teasing and finally push inside you.

He does exactly as you hoped and pushes his hips into you hungrily, setting a punishing pace, “Only for me right?”

You nod along, fucked out and on the verge of coming agian, “Yes, only for you, Eddie.”

You don’t make it back to your hotel room that night either.

***

MAY 11TH, 1984–BRIDGEPORT, CT—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

“Are you sure the’d still want to meet me?” You ask Steve one evening, brushing your hair standing in the doorway of the door that separated your hotel room from his.

“Yeah, of course! Why do you keep asking that? Wait… do you not want to meet them anymore? It’s okay if you don’t,” Steve is already trying to hide his disappointment.

“No,” you rush to correct as you follow the sound of his voice to the bathroom, “it’s not that at all it’s just that, well with all the Minx stuff in the news, I worry that maybe they won’t think I’m worthy of the Harrington brood or whatever.”

You’re of course referring to the drama that had followed the band’s appearance on the Chris Palmer show where Chris had given an interview to Subrosa after you had affectively embarrassed him on his own show calling the band talentless and you worthy of every bad name that the press could call you and more.

In response to the interview—and partially inspired by your encounter with Eddie following the interview— you had gotten the word ‘Minx’ embroidered on the back of your favorite suede jacket which you made sure to wear to all of your subsequent interviews and media appearances for the rest of the band’s time in New York.

“First of all,” Steve begins,  rubbing shaving cream over his chin “neither of my parents would ever dream of reading a gossip magazine and even if they did, they hate Chris Palmer, always said he was too ‘blue’ whatever that means. Plus, historically, dinners with my parents haven’t been the most enjoyable affairs, so having you there would really mean a lot to me.”

You smile understandingly at him through the mirror and suddenly the whole domesticity of it all strikes you. In another life, the two of you could’ve simply been a couple discussing meeting one another’s parents in the bathroom of a shitty apartment the two of you shared.

The fantasy is interrupted abruptly by a bright cacophony of knocks at your door.

“That must be Eddie,” you explained,  “he’s coming over to write.”

(He really was.)

With all the fucking the two of you had been doing, writing music had fallen to the wayside and as the end of the tour was insight and Murray’s quota of songs still not met, which meant you had to get writing.

You scramble over to your door and let Eddie in. He almost leans in for a kiss but catches himself when he notices the open door leading into Steve’s room where he is very much watching the interaction with prying eyes.

The two nod at each other in greeting. You linger in the middle between either sides the awkwardness tangible in the air. You look at Eddie’s urging eyes and then flash back to Steve whose puppy dog gaze and newly received information about his parents make you do something that is surprising even to yourself.

“Do you want to help us write, Steve?”

The situation is awkward at first, especially with the glares Eddie seems to shoot you and Steve’s shy insistence that he’s no good at writing music but eventually, after two bottles of wine, the tension subsides, at least a little.

Eddie and you had presented Steve with a few songs that were very close to done but just needed a bit more work on the melody hoping that maybe he had suggestions.

He scans over a song that Eddie had primarily written, “Wild Ride”. Steve had an idea for a rhythm that could match the song and before long, he and Eddie were fully invested, both of them bent over their guitars trying out the rhythm and shooting notes at each other. Arrangement  was definitely not your strong suit, however, you were more than happy to watch the two guitarists work

Steve was fascinatingly somber when it came to writing. He would play the notes over and over again until he found what came next, treating the whole thing like a puzzle that needed to be solved and running his hands through his hair when he was particularly stuck on something. His eyes would close while he was thinking, his lashes fluttering on his cheeks and then blinking open prettily when he had finally thought of a solution.

Eddie was much less delicate and would play around with notes, sometimes scrapping what he had all together and starting new. He tucked a pen behind his ear and was constantly scribbling and crossing out. When he focused on playing, his tongue would stick out from the corner of his mouth a bit.

They worked well together, never talked over each other, and were always willing to listen to what the other had come up with. As Eddie would write notes down in his notebook, Steve would lean in really close, so they were almost cheek to cheek looking down at the paper together. It almost seemed like they’d forgotten you were there and you were too busy refining some lackluster choruses to notice.

Eventually, they hit a wall in their writing and more drinks were ordered through room service, and soon the three of you are sprawled across your bed, drinking French 75s and watching a late night marathon of “Night Court”.

“Hey Harrington, you excited to see your folks soon?” Eddie asks during a comercial break.

You turn to look and see Steve grimace at the question. You know Eddie means well in asking, but the question ruffles Steve nonetheless.

“Not really. We were never really close on account of them sending me away to boarding school when I was eleven and then when we were together my dad’s favorite pastime was criticizing me and my mom’s was drinking,” Steve says, finally, “seeing them once a year is probably the most I can stand, honestly.”

A beat of silence settles over the group before Eddie finally speaks.

“Sorry to hear that man. If it makes you feel better, my folks weren’t exactly parents of the year either,” Eddie responds.

“That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, my uncle took me in. He’s a great guy. What about you, Princess? Were your parents the perfect image of love and support?”

You scoff. “Barely. I went back to their house right before the tour started, to get some of my things, and they thought I was breaking in and called the cops.”

“Well,” Eddie bristles, “looks like being a terrible parent can happen across all tax brackets, huh?”

“Yeah, we kinda got fucked over, a bit,” you say and the other two murmur in agreement.

The three of you stay silent for a bit, processing what had been shared and how to possibly move past such a heavy topic.

It’s Steve who finally breaks the silence, “Do you guys think Dan and Christine will ever get together?”

“Oh, yeah.” “Definitely.”

***

“This restaurant is obscenely nice,” you shift uncomfortable in your chair, taking in the surrounds and the unfamiliar unease of being somewhere where you felt out of place. Of course, you had grown up in fine dining establishments in California, but East Coast wealth seemed like a different beast entirely.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Robin huffs next to you, “but what else can you expect from Stan and Carolyn? They’re obsessed with letting everyone know how rich they are.”

She of course, had the advantage of knowing Steve’s parents after over a decade of friendship and it made sense that Steve, wanting as much of a buffer between himself and his parents during this dinner, had invited her along as well. So far, she had only been a little hostile towards you which was a personal victory.

The two of you spot Steve entering the restaurant at the same time along with two middle-aged companions that, based off resemblance alone, you knew were his parents.

Steve’s father had the same starkly defined chin and nose as his son, but none his face didn’t turn up into a natural smile like his son. He stood stately and stern, eyes surveying the room with little interest. His wife, Steve’s mother, was made up of refined, delicate features offset by the bright eyes that were clearly passed on to her son. Her entire outfit was meticulously perfect in a way that almost seemed artificial.

Steve introduces you with fanfare and pride that you don’t consider yourself worthy of but you smile along anyway and graciously shake Mr. Harrington’s hand and exchange dotted cheek kisses with Mrs. Harrington.

You exchange niceties and think to yourself maybe they won’t be so bad.

“Stan, Carolyn, it’s so nice to see you again,” Robin grits out through a tight smile.

Carolyn pats her on the shoulder in response and says,, “Please dear, call us Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. We’re out in public after all.”

***

ROBIN: Yeah, Carolyn and Stan hated me. It was like they could smell the gay on me. Or the poor. From the moment Steve had invited me over to spend spring break with them in the Hamptons they did not like me. They despised the idea of their son’s best friend being some scholarship kid whose parents were public school teachers. However bad they were to me though, they were far worse to Steve, which is why I ever even bothered going to these lunches. I didn’t want him to have to suffer through them alone.

***

“Sorry we’re late,” Mr. Harrington drawls as the three of them take their seats at the table, “our idiotic son forgot to bring cash for the valet.” His statement is punctuated by a mirthless laugh and you can tell by the matching expressions on Steve and Robin’s faces and the way Mrs. Harrington makes a grab for the bottle of wine on the table that this level of disparagement is normal for the Harrington household. You remember the comment Steve had made a few nights ago about his father’s favorite pastime

“Don’t worry,” you respond with a smooth smile, “we’re so used to having drivers back in LA—“ a lie “—I can see why Steve forgot about valet. Although, I’m sure you both know what that’s like.”

Mr. Harrington stalled. Everyone at the table—including you—knew that the Harringtons were nowhere near wealthy enough to afford personal drivers but if there was one thing insecure men, like Stan Harrington would never do is admit that they couldn’t afford something.

You were familiar with these types of ego games from your youth, although you took no pleasure in them.

Your youth was spent tucked into your mothers skirts during luncheons and tea and fashion fittings, listening as the women would eviscerate each other with laser-edge precision. If there was anything your mother had taught you was how to sow the seeds of insecurity in someone and although it did not come naturally, you could make an exception for Stan Harrington.

***

ROBIN: It was easy to forget most of the time that she came from money but damn, the way she handled Stan that night made me think that some politician was missing out on having her as their cutthroat third wife. It was like watching an artist paint or someone do sleight of hand magic. He would say something mean about Steve and she would just turn it right back around on him but she would be smiling and batting her eyes the entire time. Even with that though, it wasn’t an easy lunch to get through.

***

“It’s so nice that Stevie was able to make something of himself through his little music,” Carolyn fawns. She means well, for the most part, but the four glasses of wine she’s downed during the last twenty minutes makes her words come out just a tad but demeaning.

Her husband sneers in response, “You say that now, Carolyn, but soon he’ll be back here asking for a spot in the firm.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” you giggle in response running a hand alongside Steve’s arm, “the studio wants us recording our second album as soon as we get back and then we’ll be touring again and we’ll need him for that.”

“But darling, you can’t possibly expect to do that for the rest of your life,” Mrs. Harrington sighs, “eventually the two of you will want to settle down and have children, live a normal life.”

“Well, yeah Mom, but that’ll be a long time down the road—“

“Making music is our life, we don’t want to ever stop—“

You and Steve halt your explanation once you realize what the other is saying. The two of you exchange blank, confused looks and it’s not until Robin says, “I’m sure that they’ll decide what their next move is when the time comes. We still have plenty of time.” That the two of you jolt back into the conversation.

“Right,” you add, “plus with the royalties deal we just secured on this new album, we will be pretty stable financially.”

The rest of the lunch is spent fielding Mr. Harrington’s questions about financials and Mrs. Harrington’s questions about grandchildren. It’s exhausting but the three of you come out mostly unscathed.

The five of you part ways outside of the restaurant, and not a moment too soon. The wave of relief that washes over the three of you once the Harringtons have been sent on their way in a taxi is palpable.

You and Robin offer to buy Steve a drink for having survived the lunch and Steve offers to buy the two of you a drink as a thank you for playing roles in that. Soon, one drink each turns into multiple rounds of drinks spent recounting all the agonizing points of the lunch.

This leaves the three of you stumbling into your hotel in the early hours of the evening, completely and utterly drunk. You ride the elevator together, a mess of laughter and then bid goodbye to one another in front of Robin’s door. She’s ready to sleep off the drinking and you do not blame her.

This leaves you and Steve to stumble back to your joint rooms together.

“You know, seeing you today having dinner with my parents and my best friend almost made the whole thing feel real,” Steve says lowly, standing in your doorway.

“Steve don’t,” you plea softly.

“I just don’t get it,” he cries in response, “we would be so good together. We are good together: we have so much in common and we just make sense, everyone thinks so except for you. Just… tell me why wouldn’t you give us a shot?”

You’re in your room now, perched on the edge of the bed , teary eyes focused on everything in the room other than the man who stands in front of you.

“Steve that’s not fair. It’s just never going to work, why can’t you accept that?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” Steve blurts out, “and I know I may not be your first choice, but if you give me a chance I will prove that I’m good enough—“

“Steve, stop please don’t say that, you’re plenty good enough for anyone,” you stand now, to face him.

“Just not you,” he says devastated.

“No, listen, it’s not like that. I just, I don’t know if I can be with someone in the way that you want me to, okay? You want someone to eventually settle down with and I’m not that girl. I’m the fucking Minx for God’s sake not someone’s future wife. In another life maybe, we could’ve made each other very happy, who knows? But in this one, I can’t be what you want.”

The two of you stand there in silence for what feels like an eternity. Finally, Steve moves, walking past you to sit in your vanity chair.

“Is there someone else you have feelings for?” He asks, timidly.

“No, no,” you insist. “I told you, I don’t do that.”

He laughs mirthlessly in response, “I think you’re wrong about that. I think you’ll find someone, maybe not now or in a year or in five years, but eventually you will find someone and they will make you want to try and you will love them and I will have to watch you fall in love with them and we will both realize I was just not worth it.”

PLAY NEXT TRACK🎤

Taglist: @rexorangecouny , @persophonekarter @mystargirl-interlude @brinleighsstuff @thegaysaretired @nothing2-see @harrysvirgogf @Prior-antidote @stardustofyesterday @buckleyverse

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Miles Morales Headcanons:

❝ Okay, let's do this one last time, yeah? For real this time. This is it. My name is Miles Morales. ❝

[SFW Headcanons + No Gendered Terms]

A/N: UGH!! Precious bby boy <3 <3 He deserves the whole world and more. This was honestly one of the cuter headcanon lists I’ve done so far. Absolute wholesome points.

> God, Miles having a crush is absolutely adorable because he becomes a straight up MESS! He cannot stop thinking about you at all. It stresses him out because what if you don’t feel that way??

> Miles would find whatever time he can to hang out or talk to you. He’ll “accidentally” bump into you in the hall or he “coincidentally” met up at the same park.

> He’s trying so hard to be smooth but it always falls flat because he doubts himself.

> Finding out you liked him back blew his mind because you???? Like him???? It’s incomprehensible to him because how can someone as perfect as you like him???

> Miles is giggling and kicking his feet while listening to love songs in his room after you confess. He’s a pure lover boy.

> As Spider-man , he’s sneaking around during night patrols to check in on you and make sure you make it home safe.

> Miles is quite observant and ends up picking up on some of your habits/fidgeting. He doesn’t notice that he mirrors you at all and would deny it completely if you brought it up.

> “Whaaat? Psshh… Nah, I wouldn’t do… something… like that…” *sweating nervously*

> His life can be overwhelming sometimes and he always just relies on you to make him feel better. Late night calls just to talk or vent while laying in your separate beds, a ways away from each other.

> He would be SO nervous for you to meet his parents because consider it a job interview the way they immediately sit you down and ask a million questions at once. What school you go to, your dreams/future career, asking about extracurriculars and how many honors classes you have.

> They only do it because they want Miles to have the best but they kinda forget how intimidating it is to be interrogated by a cop and a Latina mother LMAOO

> It would take a while before he reveals he’s Spider-man to you if you weren’t a Spider-person yourself. It’s not because he doesn’t trust you but because he doesn’t want you to get hurt.

> He would have you promise it to be a secret between the two of you.

> He definitely has tried to do the upside-down kiss with you before he had to scurry off but heard his dad’s voice at the scene and accidentally dropped down.

> Miles’ main Love Languages to give are: Quality Time and Gift Giving.

> Miles knows he can be pretty busy. Juggling classes and being Spiderman keeps him in a constant move.

> So when he does get time with you, he wants it to feel special. Like nothing else exists in that moment except you two.

> He’ll swing by on a patrol and sweep you up to a rooftop just to spend time together. He always has a goofy smile when he takes off his mask and shows off the mini picnic he set up.

> Miles loves to give you gifts all the time. Nothing too expensive or anything but stuff he makes.

> He’d be too embarrassed to show you his sketchbook but he’d give sketches of you and notes on loose paper. All the drawings are lined in pen and sometimes colored in alcohol markers.

> Absolutely makes you playlists to listen to. Whether it was because you asked for recommendations or because he wanted to, he’s making one over the course of a week w/ a minimum of 30 songs.

> One of the playlists is definitely a romantic playlist, all with songs that make him think of you with each lyric.

> When his parents learned about the relationship, his mom was the first one to sit him down and tell him how he needs to get you flowers and stuff.

> So the next time you show up at a family event, you just see Rio smiling to you while she’s nudging Miles with her elbow as he holds a full bouquet for you.

> OHHH HE LOVES MATCHING BRACELETS!!! He will make them and then never take his off. His will have a nickname of yours while yours will either say “Miles” or “Spidey”.

> Miles’ favorite Love Languages to receive are: Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation.

> Miles tends to be… all over the place. So, he loves when he gets a helping hand from time to time.

> Covering for him when he’s late to something, helping out in studying, giving answers to homework, stuff like that.

> He appreciates his stress levels being eased even with small things like that. He’ll never ask for those things himself but he loves to have you do them and he’ll always make it up to you afterwards!

> Miles also has ease in getting blushy and flustered with his partner so compliments and flirting are definitely the way to get him to be head over heels.

> “Stop..!” *looks away, scratching the back of his neck and nervously laughing* “… You mean it?”

> It’s also the best way to reassure him! He can overthink sometimes and worry that he isn’t doing enough or doing something wrong so hearing how much you loved something he’s done encourages him a good bit!

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune