#by the time i have cooled off and am ready to return to one of my unfinished games ive forgotten what the hell is going on and start over

[sorypsoid]

Playing my little turn based strategy game just long enough to get soft locked by my own lack of skill two thirds of the way through the storyline at which point I see a new turn based strategy game on sale and buy it to begin playing my little turn based strategy game just long enough t

[livinginshambles]

I've got plans, sorry | James potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: James is whipped. He adores his girlfriend so much, to the point that it starts to bother his friends. His reaction to a confrontation about it with his friends is to completely pull away from you, always finding new excuses to avoid you, leaving you to try and approach him. When you overhear him trying to be cool under peer pressure and say that you're too clingy, you also start pulling away, using the same excuses.

Notes: Angst with a happy ending probably, I love happy endings. Established relationship, For plot purposes, Sirius will start off as an arse

Part two Masterlist

_____________________________

James Potter found himself a girlfriend, and it wasn't Lily Evans.

The news spread around faster than the Nimbus 1000 could fly and had everyone do a double take when they saw James strutting around, your books in one arm, held to his broad chest. His other arm holding you close.

"Everyone's staring," you whispered to James. His only reaction seemed to be walking even straighter than before, chest puffed out in pride, ready to show you off. "It's because you're breathtakingly gorgeous of course," he winked at you and you stiffled a laugh, shaking your arm and flipping a uno reverse up at him. He grinned and accepted the card, stuffing it up his own sleeve.

He had put in so much effort to get you to notice him, he almost couldn't believe it when you had eventually admitted that you fancied him back.

"Not sure why they all seem so surprised though." If you didn't know better, you would say that he sounded offended. "I mean, I've been fighting for your affection for quite a while now, right, Darling?"

He looked down to you for affirmation. "Well," you began. "You still flirted a lot with Lily, so I do get their confusion." You shrugged.

James pulled you to a stop, spun you around and pressed his lips to yours in an overly dramatic way. It had you giggling in the kiss. When you pulled away, he pulled you back to his chest, bringing you in for a hug.

You grunted at the sudden impact from your own chest at the pile of books he still held in front of him and laughed. "Hey!" You exclaimed and pressed your arm to your sore chest. "Let me help you with that, darling," he quickly offered with a wide grin. You playfully rolled your eyes at his excitement and grabby hands and swatted them away in amusement. You let him press you closer to his side, and he turned his head to kiss the top of yours.

"I'll show them how in love I am with you," he sighed happily in your hair.

You came to a stop where you two had to part ways, having picked different courses. James returned your books to you, and you left a sweet peck on his cheek.

You both walked to your classes, but not before looking back, meeting each other's eyes, a smile and a wink thrown in each other's direction.

James was always around you and vice versa, spending a great deal of your time with the marauders. You'd already been on good terms with Sirius, by which you meant that he knew your name, your own parents on his parents' payroll. You knew Peter who was your partner for your muggle studies class, and you had been friends with Remus ever since he had been kind enough to share his ink, paper and extra quill for taking notes during your first class of transfiguration. You had severely underestimated how much writing you would have to do in class instead of, you know, transfiguring. So you had sort of just joined the marauders, not that they seemed to mind. Or so you thought.

You were in the library as usual like every Thursday evening and were currently waiting for James, who hadn't shown up yet. In the past two hours and 20 minutes that you'd been waiting for him, you had already finished tomorrow's homework, as well as next week's. You looked at the gigantic clock, displaying the time. 20 minutes past eight.

'A little longer,' you told yourself. "Give him another 40 minutes."

But James wasn't going to be showing up for you anytime soon. Instead, he was in the boys' dormitory with the rest of the marauders, downing alcohol, cheered on by Sirius, trying to prove that he still valued their friendship.

Because when Sirius had complained to him about being a simp and never hanging out with just the guys anymore, he hadn't paid it any mind. He figured that he and Sirius simply had a different mindset now he had a girlfriend while Sirius was still ever the player that he was known for being.

When Remus told him that they seemed to have lost their friend, his attention had finally been caught. And when even Peter told him that he agreed with Sirius and Remus that he was too whipped and acting embarrassingly clingy, he had been all ears.

He had to admit after all, that they were right. There was almost never a moment when James wasn't holding on to you. He basically hovered around you and called out on it, he felt incredibly embarrassed. So there he was, drinking and completely forgetting about his study date with you.

When you figured he wasn't going to be showing up, you made your way to your dorm as well. Hey, at least you were productive. "Where's you bodyguard, L/N," Someone called after you and you shrugged it off.

You enjoyed spending time with James and his friends. Not really having many friends of your own due to the fact that you were taking classes of a year above you with James.

Your birthday was in November, you see. That meant that despite being born in the same year as James, you had waited another year before receiving your owl, not having been 11 yet the year before.

You had bought your books anyway and studied by yourself every evening after muggle school, your father teaching you during the weekends, all out of pure spite at the clearly flawed system.

After proving to be rather proficient during the first semester, you had been given the opportunity to get extra classes on the matter of the second years and moved to take classes with the second years during your second semester.

The cons of that, however, meant not really having any friends. You didn't share classes with your fellow dorm mates. You didn't share a dormitory with your fellow classmates.

So you enjoyed being with James, even if some people told you that you must surely find him too overbearing. This is why the fact that James was suddenly going out of his way to avoid you, hurt, simply put. Your eyes flashed with confusion, and a frown settled upon your face. You wondered if you'd upset him somehow.

"James!" You called out, making your way up to him. You tried not to sigh out loud at the relief that he had actually stopped and turned around to face you. "Hey stranger," you awkwardly laughed with a mini wave. James shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to come in for a kiss, really. But he also knew that Sirius and Remus were waiting for him. He looked back and saw them wave him over.

"Uh, it's Thursday." You managed to say, noticeably quieter than before. You had seen him look around and you wondered. 'Was he embarrassed by you?'

James definitely knew what you were implying but chose to play dumb anyway.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, uh, are you- do you want to join me in the library tonight?" Because you didn't show up last week and haven't mentioned it at all. You didn't say that last part, but James knew what you meant.

"I've got plans, sorry," he breathed out, instantly wanting to bash his head against a wall. 'Coward,' he thought. Though his friends, and mainly Sirius had made fun of him when he was with you, he didn't have to outright lie to you.

He reached his hand out to you, ready to take it back when you had already smiled and nodded. "Oh yeah, sure." You gave him a toothy grin, turned on your heels, and walked away, letting your face fall in disappointment when your back was turned towards James.

James' stretched out arm fell limp to his side and he walked over to his friends, but not before looking back at you as usual. His step faltered when you didn't look back and hastily disappeared behind the corner.

Sirius slapped an arm around James' shoulder. "Let's go Prongs, I've got the best idea for a prank." Remus sighed. That's not what he had meant for to happen.

The following two weeks were spent with you, trying to spend time with your boyfriend and said boyfriend giving out all types of excuses as to why he was really really busy and absolutely had no time for you. Quidditch practice, detention, planned pranks that he definitely couldn't miss out on, the new emergence of "boy's night", other plans, helping Sirius with something, Remus isn't feeling well, you name it.

(Though you did have the slightest feeling that he had been truthful about the last one. It had been the beginning of the full moon after all, and you weren't stupid.)

"Sorry Darling, I've got-"

"-plans, yes, I know." You smiled tightly at him.

"I'm-"

"-sorry. I know that too." And with that, you walked off, shaking your head. 'You love him,' you reminded yourself with a sigh as you walked towards the library. Almost reaching it, you changed your mind and retreated to your room instead. You weren't feeling like studying today.

"Should've gone to the library instead," you murmured to yourself through gritted teeth as you were woken up by the slamming of the door of the common room. You groaned, summoned all your courage and rolled yourself over, falling of the bed and sitting up dazed. Always effective, that method.

You walked down the stairs when you froze at your name.

"Y/N just doesn't know how to leave you alone, right Prongs?" You knew the voice belonged to Sirius.

"Yeah well, I haven't been spending a lot of time with her, lately," James admitted and the corners of your lips lifted in a soft smile.

"Well, it's still weird. Why doesn't she find her own friends to hang out with anyway?"

"She doesn't have that many," James answered, trying to defend you without directly calling you a loner, but Sirius picked up on it.

"Just because she doesn't have any friends of her own, doesn't mean she needs to interrupt you from spending time with your own, right?"

Remus had been listening and finally looked up from his book. He let his eyes flicker between his two friends. "I'm her friend," he spoke up. Bless him.

Sirius huffed. "You don't count. That's charity work."

"Hey, that's mean, Pads." Remus defended you.

You felt slapped in the face. Though thankful that Remus denied it, your eyes started watering at the fact that James didn't and you sat down on the stairs. A deep frown settled between your eyebrows and a hurt expression in your eyes. You should've turned around, but couldn't help but continue to listen in on their conversation.

"Alright, fine, I was just joking, Moony." Sirius held up his hands in surrender. "But you guys have to admit that she's super clingy," he added.

Even Remus couldn't deny that. You had been clinging to James, or trying to at least, ever since he abruptly started avoiding you for whatever reason you didn't know.

James hummed a little in agreement, choosing his words carefully. "Yeah, she's kind of high maintenance. Like, she needs a lot of attention, I guess. I mean, I've tried to subtly let her know that she's clingy, but she's not really getting the hint." Maybe not that carefully after all.

Your mouth was agape.

"Still my girlfriend though Padfoot, and I'm in love with her, so shut it," he gave Sirius a pointed look and with that, the matter was done for them. For you, very much not the case.

You swallowed, not comforted by his last words at all. Your throat felt dry and you hurried back to your room.

At first James was relieved by your lack of approaching him. It meant he didn't have to feel like crap every time he excused himself. But then time passed and James was missing you. 'How do you even miss your girlfriend, who you spend 24/7 with by being in the same boarding school?' He incredulously thought to himself.

But somehow you had managed to escape his sight. Aside from during class, in which you were partnered up with a scrawny Ravenclaw boy who excelled in potions class, called Wylan, as he had heard from Peter, he never saw you anywhere else. Not in the corridors, not in the Great Hall, not in the courtyard, not even in the library at your usual spot.

"Y/N!" He called out to you when he finally did spot you. You didn't seem to hear him and he moved faster. He slipped past a group of slow paced students who were taking up the entire corridor by walking next to each other- 'bloody hell' -and stopped in front of you, blocking your path.

You looked up at him in surprise. A weird feeling in your stomach. Maybe a mixture of adoration and discomfort at the same time. You hadn't decided what you wanted to do with the information from James' conversation because you didn't want to lose James, but also felt hurt. So you decided to just... postpone a confrontation.

"It's uh, it's been a while," he weakly smiled at you. You hummed in agreement.

"Yeah, I've been really busy." You mustered up a smile.

James nodded. 'Everything was fine. You were busy. That's all.' He tried to tell himself. But your eyes didn't crinkle like they did when you actually smiled. Your smile not wide enough to get you to wince at the pulling feeling of the small crust on your lower lip where you always bit your lip.

He cleared his throat. "I thought we could maybe go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" He offered you a lopsided grin and watched your expression turn apologetic.

"I- I've got plans, sorry," you whispered.

"Oh, right." James had a funny feeling in his stomach. What plans? With who? You didn't have other friends right? Or maybe you made some because he'd been ignoring you? His mind was racing.

"Monday?" He tried again.

He watched, a pit in his stomach forming when you shook your head hesitantly. "Tutoring third years," you said, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"O- Okay, you let me know when you have time alright?" He finally settled on.

"Yeah, sure." The lack of enthusiasm in your answer didn't go unnoticed by James.

It was quiet for a long moment. "So I should just-" you pointed with your thumb behind you, signaling that you were going to go.

"Yeah, of course, places to be," he awkwardly put his thumb up and internally screamed at himself. 'Thumbs up? Really?'

He watched you leave, shoulders slumped.

Preview if interested

Here is part two

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Rafey - Rafe x Reader FLUFF

Req: I am in need of rafe fanfics so here I am requesting …. I was wondering if you could write something about rafe being really soft when it comes to reader and being completely different from his usual mean personality and just being completely whipped for her?? Hope this is alright :)

Rafe x Reader est. relationship

Warnings: Language, violence, alcohol and drug use, rafe making sexual innuendos lol

Summary: You witness Rafe's animosity towards others and notice the difference in his treatment of you.

SOFT! RAFE IS MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE.

Summers on The Cut were the absolute best. Parties every weekend, the beach with your friends, all the time in the world with your boyfriend, Rafe. The Kook life suited you well.

You stepped into Tannyhill, the blast of the AC immediately cooling your body down from the hellish weather of the OBX. Rafe and Sarah had come together, a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence, to plan that weekend's party. Rose and Ward had taken Wheezie out of town for her birthday, leaving the elder Camerons alone in the big house. Sarah was in the kitchen, stirring a big cooler of some sort of beverage you guessed you would be indulging in later that night.

"Hey Y/N!" She smiled at you. "Rafe is out getting some stuff for tonight, but he should be back soon!" You nod and cross to the counter where she is.

"Alright." You look around the big room. "Do you need help with anything? Should I-"

"Could you get the ice from the freezer?" You smile.

"Got it."

Fifteen minutes later, and a few sips of Sarah's concoction later, you are giggling on the sofa.

"No way."

"No, I'm serious. After he got his wisdom teeth out, he kept asking to watch The Backyardigans. It was hysterical. Wheez got so many good videos of him." You simply couldn't contain your laughter at the thought of Rafe watching a kids' TV show.

"Yeah yeah. It's hysterical." His voice rang out from behind you and Sarah's eyes went wide as they met yours, a laugh threatening to escape from her lips. You, however, kept giggling.

"Rafey... How often do you watch The Backyardigans?" He rolled his eyes and set his hands on the back of the couch, bending down to meet your height.

"It was a one-time thing, baby." You giggled again and Rafe smiled the tiniest bit. "Geez, how much have you had to drink?" He sat up, running his hand through his hair, which you were thankful for. After you had kept stealing his gel, Rafe left his hair natural, which you were very thankful for.

Sarah started laughing again, which made you start laughing.

"Not a lot!" He rolled his eyes and turned away from the two of you, going to the kitchen to finish preparations. Sarah suddenly gasped and tapped your shoulder repeatedly. "D'ya wanna get ready with me? It will be so fun." You immediately nod.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Sarah jumps off of the couch reaching her hand out for you.

"C'mon!" You grabbed her hand and let yourself be pulled in the direction of the stairs before Rafe's voice stopped you.

"Hold on ladies. I'd like to talk to my girl before you leave me all alone." Sarah giggles again before running up the stairs. You smile and turn to Rafe, jumping a bit in shock when you see that he is already in front of you, his hand on the wall beside your head.

"Hi." You whisper.

"Hi." He whispers back. You grin at him, which makes him smile.

His unoccupied hand brushes a strand of hair away from your face before he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

"I bet you're gonna look beautiful tonight. Have fun with Sarah and holler if you need anything." He gives you a real Rafe smile and you return an even bigger one.

Hours later, you were riding on the buzz of Sarah's tasty drinks and some weed. You felt great, the light blue dress you chose for the night fell just below your bottom, something that Rafe had noticed the moment you had walked down the stairs.

He had been keeping an eye on you all night, how could he not with that fucking dress? You looked like you were having a good time with Sarah and the rest of your friends, smiling at you from afar.

"Yo, Rafe!" Kelce clapped him on the shoulder. "Special delivery from Barry." The mention of the drug caught Rafe's attention quickly and he grinned at Kelce.

"Where?" Kelce jerked his head behind him and began to walk away. Rafe turned his head back to where you were and decided you'd be fine on your own for a bit. He met Kelce and Topper in a spare guest-room. The white power clumped on the table made Rafe's heart pound in anticipation. The three Kooks indulged in the drug, making their noses burn and heads spin.

Rafe left the room and made his way back to the party, rounding a corner when a touron bumped into him.

"Hey man! Watch where you're going. Asswipe." The dark haired guy spat out. With the drug mixed with Rafe's temper, the guy was on the floor in an instant.

"The fuck did you just say to me?" Topper and Kelce were right behind Rafe, amused looks on their faces. The party had quieted down, eyes and ears on Rafe and the kid on the floor below him.

You pushed your way to the front of the crowd, staring with wide eyes as Rafe's body loomed over the touron.

"Dude! what the fuck?" The guy scrambled up onto his feet, pushing Rafe back with as much force as he could. "Do you wanna fight?"

Rafe's dark laugh could be heard over the music.

"Awe dude's gone and fucked up." Topper said, coaxing a laugh out of Kelce.

Rafe smirked, pushing the sleeves of his button down up to his elbows.

"Won't be much of a fight dude." Rafe's fist collided with the guys face seconds later, sending him back onto the floor. Gasps sounded throughout the room.

"Rafe!" You screamed as he bent down to deliver another blow. And another.

Rafe managed to control his anger and picked the touron up, clutching him by his shirt.

"Get the fuck out of my house." The touron wasted no time scrambling out of Tannyhill and seconds later, the party was back in full-swing, like Rafe hadn't just beaten a tourist up.

Kelce and Topper patted Rafe on the back as he inspected his hands.

"Rafe." The prior actions had sobered you up almost completely. Their heads snapped to yours and Rafe gave you another one of his rare smiles. You fought the urge to smile back. "Come with me. Let me help you." You glared at Kelce and Top as they giggled at Rafe nodding and following you out of the room like a puppy.

The cocaine had made Rafe hyperfixate on you. Your pretty face, your sparkling eyes, the slight pout of your lips while you cleaned off his bloody knuckles.

"Hi, baby." He whispered. You were standing in between his legs, with him on the counter in his bathroom.

"Hi." You didn't look at him when you replied, too focused on fixing him up and too mad to meet his gaze. That is until Rafe started giggling.

"Well isn't this a switcheroo." Your head jerked up at Rafe's odd choice of words.

"What?" He's grinning at you again and the sight makes your heart race.

"Usually I'm in between your legs." Your head drops in exasperation and you take a deep breath.

"Jesus, Rafe." You refocused back on his hand, cleaning it up before wrapping it with bandages.

"We could make that happen, if you want..." His voice is just above a whisper. You are waiting for a giggle to follow but the room is silent. You look at him and his eyes are wide and pupils blown.

"Rafe..." You take his head in your hands. "Are you high?" A sheepish look wipes across his face.

"Only a little bit." His strong arms wrap around your torso, pulling your body closer to his. His head drops to your shoulder. "Mmmm. Yof snel go." His words are muffled and you stifle a laugh?

"What?" His head pops up a little.

"You smell good."

"Thank you, Rafe." His head pulls back so his eyes can meet yours, a frown present on his handsome features.

"Stop calling me that."

"Rafe? Baby that's your name." He shakes his head.

"You haven't called me Rafey all night." He pouts and you smile.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes, please." Even though you hate Rafe's use of drugs, you do enjoy this side of Rafe that comes out after he indulges in it.

"Aright, baby." You grab his hand to pull him off of the counter but he doesn't budge. "C'mon big guy." He shakes his head.

"Not until you say it." You set your hands on your hips as you stare at your boyfriend, Rafe Fucking Cameron, the scariest Kook of them all who just fucking broke a kids nose, is sitting on a counter in front of you, acting like a baby and begging you to call him by his nickname.

"Then I guess you're gonna have to be nice, Rafe." His eyes narrow.

"You're being mean. I'm always nice." You roll your eyes. "To you." He reaches his hands out and pulls you back to his embrace. "Please?" His eyes are like a puppies and you can't hold back your smile.

"Rafey..." Out comes another true Rafe grin which makes your heart soar.

"Say it again." His fingers brush your sides as he looks at you expectantly. Your hands reach up to push his hair back.

"Rafey." He thanks you with kisses. Your forehead, nose, cheeks, lips.

"Stop! Ew!" You are a giggling mess. You manage to push the large man away from your body, trying to catch your breath.

You look at him, standing by the door, watching you with a small smile.

"What?"

"I love you." His words go straight to your heart.

"I love you." He pulls you in for a real kiss, one that makes you melt into his arms.

The two of you leave the bathroom hand-in-hand.

"Did you call me 'big guy' ?"

"Shut up."

THIS MADE ME SMILE SO MANY TIMES!

Enjoy!

[dollfacefantasy]

Cool Rider

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets you ready for a ride on his motorcycle

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just a little fluff drabble i've been thinking about while i go back and forth on my other longer fics. imagine this to be a little bit after vendetta when leon's starting to get better. hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“Quit joking around or you’re not going anywhere,” Leon grunts as he continues to mess around with the tire pressure on the rear wheel of his motorcycle.

“I’m just saying-” you chime before being cut off.

“You’re saying nothing more or I’m changing my mind,” he says and gives you a warning look.

Despite his attempt at being stern with you, affection clouds his eyes. You play along for him and mime zipping your lips. With a sharp exhale and shake of his head at your antics, he returns his focus to fidgeting with the pressure gauge hooked to his bike. But you’re happy just because you saw him smile.

You’d been begging him for months to take you for a ride on his bike. Every time you’d asked, you were met with “no” or “in your dreams.” You’d always ask him why, and he’d just brush it off. Too dangerous. It’s something he does alone. You eventually just gave up. He deserved his space, and you knew he’d seen so much pain and death in his life that he was probably a little overprotective by nature. It came as an absolute shock to you when he approached you last week and asked if you’d wanna go for a ride this weekend. He’d said it so casually, like he hadn’t shot you down time after time before. You weren’t sure what had changed, but a win is a win, right?

Now sitting on the stool by the bench where he kept all his motorcycle stuff, you swing your feet back and forth. As much as you’d been teasing him for the last thirty minutes about taking forever and a half, it was fun seeing him so locked in on his task. You studied his face, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes hardened, his lips curling a little with dedication.

“Hey stalker girl, instead of staring me down, maybe you should finish getting ready,” he teases as he finishes up and starts putting the tools away.

“I am ready,” you say.

“No you’re not. Where’s your helmet?” he asks while walking to you.

“Mmmm… you don’t wear a helmet,” you playfully point out.

You were just being difficult because he was so easy to mess with. You weren’t dumb, and you had no desire for your brains to splatter across some pavement. In general, motorcycles kind of scare you to be honest. If anyone but Leon was driving it, you wouldn’t even consider hopping on the back. So there was absolutely no way you were gonna get on that thing without a helmet strapped on.

“I didn’t ask you if I wear one. Where’s yours?” he says.

He stands between your thighs and looks down at you, taking in your pretty eyes, pouty lips, the face he couldn’t get enough of. His fingers run along your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin. Every detail had him enraptured. He made fun of you for staring, but truth be told, he was just as guilty. The only difference was he hid it much better than you did.

“I’ll get it in two seconds. You were just taking so long, I figured I had some time to relax,” you joke with a quick peck to his lips, hopping off your seat.

“You better get it. I want your pretty little head kept in one piece,” he murmurs and lays a kiss on your hairline. He lightly swats your ass as you walk away, drawing that laugh from you that he loved to hear. He’s smiling while grabbing the keys, not that you could see it with your back to him. You were easy to mess with too.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to wear one if you don’t,” you say as you lift the helmet up and inspect the one he’d bought for you.

“Too bad. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. God forbid I actually let you do this, and you end up with a concussion or something,” he grumbles while grabbing the keys.

“If we get in a crash though, your experience won’t matter. We’ll both go flying all the same. Then you’ll be the one with the concussion or worse, and I’ll be flat outta luck having to take care of you,” you explain while fidgeting with the straps on the helmet.

“Here, gimme that,” he says, taking it from you. He fixes the straps and gets them where they should be. Yeah, you’re being intentionally stubborn, but you had a good point and he knew it. “If it’s so important to you, I can wear one too.”

“It is important to me. I always want you safe,” you say, taking a moment to be genuine between all your teasing.

“I know, baby,” he says softly. It’s all he could say. Obviously, with the life he had, he couldn’t “be safe” all the time. But god, you made him want to try.

He gives you one last kiss before putting the helmet on you. He fastens it into place, making sure it’s nice and tight. Tilting your head around, he inspects it thoroughly. Has to be certain this shell of hard plastic is gonna do its job and protect his precious girl. 

After he’s done examining the efficacy of the helmet, he pulls back to give you a once over. Really look at you.

“Does it look good?” you ask, voice slightly muffled.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it looks good. Pretty cool,” he confirms.

Of course you looked more than good. The sight of you completely melted his heart. He just didn’t know how to say it. He’d never been too good with words when you were involved. You made everything foggy, hard to think.

He couldn’t see the grin on your face right now, but he could just about feel the excitement radiating off of you as you pulled him into a hug, the shiny dome covering your head resting over his heartbeat. His palm runs up and down your back before you pull away and head to the motorcycle.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask.

He could hear the anticipation in your voice too. It was infectious, made him want to get on and speed off without looking back. But he still had a little hesitation left. Rationally, he knew he’d done everything he could to make sure this would go smoothly. In all likelihood, you would just have some fun and then come back home and everything would be fine. The irrational part of him just wanted that to be 100% guaranteed. He’d lost so many people. He couldn’t survive losing you, especially to something as trivial as a motorcycle accident.

But he was stalling now, and he knew it. You deserved this. Deserved to have the fun he’d offered you. You’d been so good to him for the last several months, putting up with him when it would’ve been reasonable to leave him in your rearview mirror. He swallows his doubt and nods.

But as he sees you start to look at it like you’re gonna get on, he stops you.

“Wait a second,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, “It’s cold out, and with the wind and everything. Just put this on.”

He can’t see how you lovingly roll your eyes at this which is probably for the best anyways. Knowing him, he’d probably get all huffy and defensive about it. Argue the practicality of his decision rather than just admitting he’d gone soft for you.

Regardless, you let him wrap the leather around you, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You give him a thumbs up, and he pulls you close to him, thoughtlessly planting a smooch on the cool helmet like he’d normally do to your head.

“You better hold on tight. This isn’t a video game. You don’t get extra points for riding with no hands,” he teases before grabbing the extra helmet he had and putting it on.

This time you give a mock salute and watch him swing his leg over the seat. He waves you over and you gladly get on behind him. The warmth of your front presses against his back. He looks down, admiring the way your hands lock around his waist, your arms adorned in the white stripes of his jacket.

He wheels the bike out of the garage, taking a deep breath as checks to see that the street is clear. One more sigh and mental reassurance later, he’s speeding out onto the road. He knows it’s all worth it as soon as he hears your laughter and feels you clinging to him even harder.

[bigification]

Step Daddy

"You really need to get over your stepdad man." My friend tells me, concerned.

"Look, I'll try this one last thing and if it doesn't work then I'll give it up." I respond. "Did you bring the sunglasses?"

"Yes, but just remember he's like 25 years older than you. He's probably not going to be into you, even after this." He says as he hands me a pair of old pilot shades.

I told him I could let it go, but I can't. I'm just putting all my eggs into this basket, the sunglasses. Apparently they're supposed to transform someone who wears them mentally and physically to match my type. He already is my type, but I guess I wouldn't mind him bulking up a bit and growing some hair. It would be sexy if he got more charming, but he's already charming as it is. I guess there's only one way to find out.

I wait on the living room couch watching tv. He always gets home from work at the same time, so I know he'll be here any minute. I sit and stare at my reflection in the glasses. Am I really ready to change this man's life so drastically. My friend said no one else would take notice of the change, so it'll be like nothing happened. As I'm thinking over it, I hear the roar of his engine from the driveway. I try to calm down, but I can feel my body vibrate from the nerves. The door flies open.

"Hey buddy, hows it goin?" He asks me with his hot southern accent.

"Not bad. By the way, I found these sunglasses lying around, and assumed they were yours." I try to play it cool as I lie to his face.

"Oh, thanks. But these aren't mine." He responds.

"Well you might as well keep em, they don't fit me anyway." I try to convince him to take them without seeming too pushy.

"Well alright, thanks kid." He swipes the glasses and throws them on.

That was easier than I thought. As soon as he put them on, he stopped moving. His jaw slacked as if there was not a thought running through his mind. It started slow, his button up started to look a little bit tighter. His once flat chest started to push against his shirt and the shape of a belly started to show. Then it started to speed up. His chest started to pulse, growing in size with each one. They grew until the button on his collar popped off, then another button popped, then another and another. His juicy pecs flopped down after being released from his shirt. His stomach was next. His midsection widened and his stomach grew into a respectable beer belly, straining against his shirt. It wasn't long before more buttons began to pop, until his shirt was completely open. His arms also looked like they doubled in size, filling out his sleeves with thick muscles.

Next his legs start to look like they're gonna burst out of his dress pants. I can hear the rips ripple through his pants as his thighs grow inside of them. His ass fills out all the space in his pants and proceeds to rip open his fly and snap his belt in half. I can tell his underwear is barely staying in one piece as a large bulge formed in between his legs.

Finally his face begins to change. His once skinny face fills out with fat, giving him a rounder look. I can see that hair is falling out of his hat until he is left completely bald under there. Though in return his clean shaven face grows a bushy beard. But the hair doesn't stop there. It continues down his chest and to his belly, and presumably the rest of his body. He finally regains control of his body. He sighs as he stretched out his arms and cracks his knuckles before looking right at me.

"Come here, son." He says in a deep buttery voice.

A shock travels through my spine as I think he might know what I've done to him.

"What'd I say boy!" He raises his voice.

I jump a bit before I walk closer to him. I realize how imposing he is up close. He must have gotten taller because he seems well over six feet tall now, and at least 250 pounds.

"Daddy had a stressful day, why don't you help him release some tension." He says as he pushes me to my knees.

I blush, this is everything I wanted from this, it just happened so much faster than I thought.

"Don't be shy, boy. This will be our little secret." He says as he pulls his underwear down.

[thepunkmuppet]

the possible future of the hatchetfield series: hatchetfield halloween party livestream full rundown

again apologies if someone has already done something like this, but I’m procrastinating doing my coursework and just want to talk about hatchetfield I want everyone to be aware of this exciting stuff that was announced in the stream so here you go:

the next starkid musical to be released will not be in the hatchetfield universe.

the guy who didn’t like musicals will soon be ready to license.

nightmare time 3 was originally planned to be released in the same year as nightmare time 2 and will wrap up the overarching nightmare time stories (which seem to be miss holloway and the foster sisters respectively).

if they did a fourth hatchetfield musical, it would be about miss holloway and her backstory. it is already written. I am very very extremely normal about this fact 😃

there is a possibility of a hatchetfield movie, and workin’ boys was sort of a test for this concept. it would be a slasher murder mystery centering around the hatchetfield community players (zoey chambers and the cast of workin’ girls, possibly also with ruth, hidgens, alice and any other theatre-oriented characters but that part’s just my speculation). the transcription of the teaser description can be found below the nmt descriptions.

ok so here are the transcriptions of the nmt3 episode descriptions:

Story #1: Bottle Imps

Bill Woodward has been chosen to test CCRP’s latest and greatest product; Bottle Imps. These reality-bending buddies will bring their owner the one thing they desire most. When his new imp, Lovely, leads him to his soulmate, Bill decides to use his magical companion to play matchmaker. But to help Charlotte find the man of her dreams, Bill will have to bend the Imp’s rules. Rules he’s been warned, must never be broken…

Story #2: Frankenruth

Desperate to see a naked body, Ruth Fleming and Richie Lipschitz volunteer at the morgue of St. Damien’s Hospital. Their terrible plan becomes exponentially more terrible, when they become unwitting subjects in the experiments of the body-snatching madman, Doctor Laszlo, who claims to have conquered death itself. If Hatchetfield thought Ruth was bad before, then they will cower before the unspeakable horror of… Frankenruth!

Story #3: Becky Barnes Climbed a Tree

Becky Barnes is on top of the world! Not in a literal sense, of course. She’s deathly afraid of heights. After years of struggle, Becky’s life is finally everything she dreamed it would be. She’s engaged to her high school sweetheart, Tom Houston, and the two have a surprise baby on the way! But, as the couple prepare for the arrival of baby Marie, a shadow from Becky’s past returns to haunt them.

Story #4: Devil’s Night

Tim Houston has a crush. Unfortunately, it’s on his older, mature and totally cool babysitter, Grace Chasity, who he fears will never see him as anything but a snot-nosed little kid. But when a devilish maniac with murderous designs on Grace attacks Hatchetfield the night before Halloween, Tim must protect his beloved, or join the killer’s growing body count. It’s another slashing adventure on the night HE came home… Devil’s Night.

Story #5: (long special episode) Miss Holloween

It’s Halloween in Hatchetfield once again, and Miss Holloway is celebrating the same way she’s done for decades, staving off the horrors that go bump in the night. But when Duke gives her an invitation to his wedding, the dejected Miss Holloway begins to chafe under the terms of a contract forged many years ago. She strikes a new bargain, but unfortunately her creditors are known for their tricks, not treats. Just as Miss Holloway gives up her powers in exchange for a mortal life, a monstrous new threat rears its ugly head. As All Hallows Eve descends, and all Hell breaks loose, Miss Holloway must save the town or die trying… for real this time.

Story #6: (long special episode / season finale) Orb Weaver

Lex Foster had a life once. A home. A boyfriend. Now there is only the road, and her sister, and the fear of the men who are hunting them. As Hannah Foster watched Lex sink deeper into despair, she is certain of only three things: Webby is gone. She cannot help them. They are alone. Elsewhere, an old soldier awakens from a catatonic state. Returned from some unimaginable Hell with a mission. He knows that somewhere, two magical girls require immediate evac… then maybe some coffee.

very important: if you want nightmare time 3, WATCH NIGHTMARE TIME 2. BUY A TICKET TO THE LIVESTREAM. SHOW THAT THERE IS LOVE AND DEMAND AND IT’S WORTH THEIR TIME AND MONEY I AM BEGGING YOU

hatchetfield movie: Cast Party Massacre

The Hatchetfield Community Players. You will never find a cattier troupe of two-faced thespians. But when the blood begins to flow at their latest show’s cast party, they must consider: is there a secret murderer in their midst? And more importantly, who amongst them is a good enough actor to pull off such a performance? Can they set aside their petty squabbles and tangled romances, or is it curtains for this ensemble? Who will survive… the Cast Party Massacre!

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

The Princess and The Pogue | J. M.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: Your daughter comes home from school telling you about a local OBX fairytale. It turns out it’s about you and your husband.

Listen to But Daddy I Love Him for full experience

Requested by @idontevenknowbsblog

A/N: This turned out way longer and more angsty than I had anticipated but I’m a sucker for the angst. I just can’t help it. I’m sorry this took me a million years to finish!

As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.

Warnings: allusions to domestic abuse, controlling parents, forced engagement, so much fucking angst, only kinda proofread

Word Count: 3.5k

~

Your daughter’s tiny feet press against the back of your seat as you head home after picking her up from school.

“Mia, stop kicking,” You laugh, “Mommy’s trying to drive.”

“Sorry, Mommy.” Your daughter giggles. “I’m just so happy today!”

“I’m so glad you're happy, Baby.” You smile at the five year old in the rearview mirror. “What did you do at school today?”

“We got to draw all our shapes today and we sang the alphabet song a bunch of times!”

“Ooh sounds like a fun day.”

She claps excitedly. “Oh and Kylie’s older sister told us a fairytale at recess!”

“A fairytale? Very cool. What was it about?”

“Did you know a princess used to live here? A long time ago. She ran away with a pogue because her evil king father wouldn’t let them be together.”

Your eyes widen at her words, a small smile forming on your face as she tells the story that takes you back to what seems like a lifetime ago.

-

“Mom, I’m headed out,” you yelled through the foyer.

“Ok, hun.” Your mom poked her head over the stairwell. “Just don’t stay out too late. We have that business lunch with the Cameron’s tomorrow and it’s very important that you be there.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” you promise, “besides I’m just going to hang out with Sarah.”

“We just love that you and Ward Cameron’s daughter are friends. It looks so good for your father’s business for the families to be close. Especially with you set to inherit the company someday.”

With Ward Cameron being the biggest real estate developer in the Outer Banks and your dad owning the biggest construction company, the two men worked closely on most of their deals. They were also the closest thing to friends that either of the men had. The two richest men in the island made for a powerful team.

“Glad I can help you keep up appearances,” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that, hun?”

“Always happy to help the family.” You gave your mother a forced smile and made your escape, slipping outside and into Sarah’s waiting car.

“Ready to go see your man?” She grins at you and you return the gesture.

“God, yes.“

-

You hadn’t expected to fall in love with JJ Maybank. Considering the very different lives the two of you led it was surprising the two of you ever even crossed paths, but that was one of the perks of being Sarah’s friend. When she fell in love with John B and got involved with the pogues she dragged you along with her.

It wasn’t like you had anything against the pogues. In fact, you had admired them from afar your whole life. Their freedom and adventures were something you envied, forever stuck in your kook bubble. You didn’t have a choice but to follow the plan your parents had created for you.

JJ, on the other hand, hated kooks with a passion. He had a hard enough time with Sarah joining the group and when she brought you in, arguably the even bigger kook princess with the even bigger kook king of a father, he vowed to himself he would never accept you. After all, you represented everything he hated, the life he always dreamed of but would never attain.

He would sneer and call you “princess”, his voice dripping with disdain, doing everything in his power to piss you off, but you didn’t mind. You loved his passion and the way he would do anything to protect the people he cared about. You ignored his insults, treating him just as well as you would anyone else.

Before he knew it, your soft words and beaming smile had softened JJ. He began to actually look forward to your presence in the group, feeling sad when you couldn’t get away from your parents to spend time with them. Then, one day the two of you were the only ones to show up to a pogue hang out. You ended up spending hours just talking and getting to know each other. The rest was history and you had been together from that day forward.

Unfortunately, you knew that your parents would never let you spend time around a pogue, let alone be in a relationship with one. So, like Sarah and John B, you and JJ had to keep your relationship hidden. Thanks to the help of the pogues, the two of you had been successfully seeing each other behind your parents’ backs for over a year.

-

“I’ll be back to pick you up at 8:00,” Sarah reminds you. She pulls up to the little cove where you and JJ liked to meet. “We only have a couple of hours tonight because of that lunch tomorrow. Don’t want our families to get suspicious.”

You nod. “Got it. I’ll see you then.” You slip out of her car. “Tell John B I said hi.”

“Will do.”

She pulls away as you make your way around the rocks hiding the entrance to your spot.

“Hi, princess.” Your boyfriend grins at you in the orange light of the sunset, pulling you into a hug.

“JJ,” You breathe him in, soaking up the comfort he gives you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby. Four days without you is four days too much.” JJ leads you over to the blanket on the sand, sitting back so you can settle between his legs.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t get away much this week. My parents are going crazy about this lunch tomorrow.”

“Aren’t they always crazy?” JJ jokes, poking your side. You squirm a little bit, trying to escape his prodding.

“I mean, yeah. They’re just extra crazy this week.” You settle further into his chest, JJ giving up his attack in exchange for wrapping his arms securely around you. He nuzzles his head into the side of your neck. “But, it’s okay because at least we have right now.”

“How long do we have until Sarah comes back to pick you up?”

You let out a sigh. “Two hours.”

“That’s it? Damn.”

“I’m sorry, J.” You look back apologetically, but he just shakes his head.

“Hey, don’t apologize. We just have to make the most of the time we have, like usual. It won’t be like this forever.”

“Right.” You give him a small smile, turning back to face the sunset before he can see the doubt in your eyes. You hoped JJ was right, but you had no idea how things would ever change.

As expected, your time together flew by too quickly and before you knew it Sarah was back to take you home.

JJ was reluctant to let you out of his embrace. “We’re still on for tomorrow night, right? After you finish up with all your kook business?”

“Of course, baby. I wouldn’t miss it.” You give him one last goodbye kiss, distracting him long enough to slip out from his arms. He pouts, but lets you go, knowing if it was your choice you would never leave.

-

You stare numbly at the wall, unable to will yourself to move from your position balled up on the bed. You aren’t sure how long you've been laying there looking at nothing. You didn’t feel anything, having cried out all your tears hours ago. A buzzing sounds from the other side of the room, your phone going off once again, but you don’t pick it up. It’s probably Sarah calling again to see if you’re okay after what happened at lunch. You’re not.

Having sat in silence for so long, you jump when you hear a rattling at your window. It takes you a minute to clamber over to the window with the lights out in your room. You hadn’t realized how dark it had become outside.

You peek out warily, trying to determine the source of the noise. “Shit.” You mumble under your breath as you realize JJ is perched in the tree closest to your room.

You unlatch the door so he can climb inside, turning away from him quickly. You’re thankful for the darkness in that moment as you scramble to make yourself look presentable, flattening your hair and wiping at your face. You pull down the sleeves of the massive sweatshirt you’re wearing, one you stole from JJ months ago, making sure you are completely covered.

“JJ, what are you doing here,” you whisper, “What if someone sees you?”

“I was worried about you. You were supposed to meet me hours ago, remember?” He sounds frustrated.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” You run your hand down your face stressed. “I didn’t mean to stand you up.”

“You forgot? Y/N, I’ve been calling and texting for hours.” JJ moves closer, but you step back. “I thought something bad had happened.”

He takes another step back. Again you back away, trying to keep him from seeing your face. Brows furrowed, JJ moves towards you again. This time you can’t move away fast enough, bumping your dresser as you try to get away.

“Woah, wait.” JJ takes your face in gentle hands. “Have you been crying?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you off that easily.

“Baby, what’s going on? Is it something I did?” The worry in his eyes brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. You shake your head, willing them not to fall.

“No, no. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Something with Sarah?” You shake your head again.

“Your parents?” That stills you. “It is your parents. What is it? Did something happen at lunch?”

You don’t answer.

“Talk to me, baby. I can’t make it better if I don’t know what’s wrong.” JJ’s voice is so sincere and his touch so soft. He really thinks he’ll be able to fix whatever the problem is.

You gather your strength and gently pull away from him, not wanting to see the look in his eyes when you tell him.

“My father and Ward Cameron have decided that it is in the best interest of their respective businesses for our families to be officially joined.”

“What on earth does that mean?”

You feel like you're going to be sick, but you force the words out anyway. “I am set to be married to Rafe Cameron.” You keep your eyes on the floor, waiting for JJ’s response. He stays silent.

“I had no idea they had this planned until my parent’s announced it at lunch.”

“What do you mean you’re marrying Rafe Cameron?” He tries to keep his voice calm. But you can hear the venom behind his words anyway. “You can’t just marry Rafe.”

“I don’t have a choice, JJ. They practically signed my ownership papers over to Rafe right there.”

JJ is pacing your room now, hands constantly running through his hair. “He can’t just do that. You’re an adult, Y/N. Tell him no.”

“I can’t tell him no JJ.” He stops in front of you, the look on his face half shock half anger.

“What are you talking about? You can’t just tell me that your father is marrying you off to Rafe and not even try to fight him on it.” You turn from his intense gaze, unable to handle it any longer.

‘Y/N-” JJ reaches for your arm to turn you around and you flinch back hissing in pain. Your sleeve rides up, revealing a number of dark bruises.

“I tried talking him out of it, JJ. He made it clear saying no wasn’t an option.”

JJ seethes, body tense with anger. “He hurt you.” It’s not a question which is just as well because you have no response.

“I’m gonna kill him.” He growls.

You lay your palms flat against his chest. “No, you’re not. We can’t make this situation any worse than it already is.”

“He can’t just get away with this!” JJ’s voice rises with his anger and you shush him quickly, looking back at your door.

“Please, Y/N.” His voice cracks on your name. “Things can’t just end like this.”

The pain in his words breaks your heart. You let the tears fall freely, unable to hold back the emotion any longer.

“I’m so sorry, JJ.” He cradles your face in his hands like he did at the beginning of the night. “There’s nothing either of us can do to change this.” JJ brushes his thumbs against your cheeks, brushing at the tears. “You should go.”

“No, Y/N.” He has tears running down his face too. “I can’t leave you like this.”

“Please, JJ. You have to go before something wakes him up. I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds you here.”

JJ’s eyes flit down to your wrists, taking in the bruises once more before he nods slowly. He won’t be the reason your father hurts you again. You lips press against his slowly, both of you pouring all the love you have for each other into the kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you, too. Always.”

With those last words, he slips back out your window, closing it quietly behind him. You watch as he climbs back down the tree and crosses the property. As he finally fades out of blue, you sink down to your floor, your knees unable to hold the weight of your body as it’s wracked with sobs.

-

You don’t leave your room for days. All you can do is lay in your bed and cry, mourning the loss of the man you love and the life you had planned.

If it was up to you, you would never leave that room. Unfortunately, your parents have other plans. They parade you and Rafe all over town, making sure everyone on the island knows the two of you are “madly in love” and engaged to be married in the spring. The whole pageantry of it makes you sick.

The cherry on top of the whole ordeal is the engagement party that you parents planned for the weekend. They rented out the whole club and invited every kook on the island. You’re pretty sure it’s your own personal hell.

Sarah pins one last curl to your head. “Done. You look beautiful.”

You give her a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Sarah.” You were dressed in a white sundress that your mother had bought for the party and Sarah had done your hair and makeup to perfection. The whole look was stunning, but you just feel like a trophy being shown off.

Sarah gives you a sympathetic look. “You ready for this?”

“No. But I have to be.”

It takes everything in you to keep a smile pasted on your face as Rafe takes your hand and leads you out to the throng of people. Everyone smiles and hugs you, offering their congratulations. You do your best to seem gracious and excited, but all you feel is emptiness and the faces move before you in a blur.

You make it two hours into the party before you can’t take it any longer. The panic that has been creeping up your throat all night takes hold and you have to break away. You excuse yourself from Rafe, claiming a need to run to the bathroom. He gives you a harsh look and makes you promise to hurry back, but ultimately lets you go.

You hurry away from prying eyes, not letting yourself break until you get inside. Chest heaving, you gulp down air like you’ve just run a marathon. One of your hands is pressed against your chest, the other braced against the walls to hold you up as you stumble towards the bathroom.

Before you can make it more than a few feet an arm catches you around the waist, pulling you into an alcove you had never noticed. You stumble back, trying to pull yourself together, not wanting whoever grabbed you to see your harried state.

“Hey, hey. It’s just me.”

Familiar hands rub up and down your arms, grounding you. You look up to see the blue eyes that you love so much.

“JJ,” you whisper, breaths still coming fast and hard.

“It’s okay, baby. Just breathe.”

JJ holds you close as you will your body to calm, feeling safe for the first time all night.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you, talk to you.”

You sigh, looking at him with sad eyes. “As happy as I am that you’re here, you have to go. If anyone sees you. My father, or Rafe-”

“What if you didn’t have to worry about them anymore?”

“JJ, we’ve been over this. I can’t break this engageme-”

“What if we just left? You and me. Right now.” His eyes bore into yours, willing you to see the possibility.

You can’t act like you haven’t had the same thought yourself, but you just didn’t see how it would be possible. “How would that work, JJ? My father controls my whole life. My money, my future, everything.”

“You don’t need anything he has to give you, Y/N.” His voice is pleading.

“JJ…”

“We can figure it out. You have a degree, I have experience. We’ll get jobs. We’ll make it work.” He reaches a hand into his pocket. “I know I can’t give you a life like this-”

“I don’t want a life like this.”

“-but I will do everything in my power to give you a good life, to make you happy.” He holds up a simple, beautiful band of silver. “Will you marry me?”

You stare up at him with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Say you’ll marry me. We can leave right now. I have a plan to get us off the island. Your parents won’t know until it’s too late. Just say yes, please.”

“Yes, yes.” You nod vigorously. “I’ll marry you.”

You rip off the gaudy ring currently on your hand and JJ replaces it with the silver band. He kisses you so deeply you think you see stars.

“I love you, JJ Maybank,” you whisper when you part.

“I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N, so much.”

You could stay in that moment forever, but you both know you don’t have time to waste. JJ begins to pull you to a side exit, but you stop him. There’s one last thing you have to do before you leave.

You find a piece of paper, scribbling out a few quick words and titling to your father.

Have fun explaining to the Cameron’s that your daughter ran off with a pogue

Y/N Y/L/N

You set the folded paper on the center table, placing Rafe’s ring next to it.

“Ready to get off this island?”

You grab JJ’s hand. “God, yes.”

-

JJ was right, the two of you figured it out. You both found jobs on the mainland and created a happy life for yourselves. You and JJ got married a few months after you ran off and Mia came along a few years later.

You had kept in touch with the pogues of course and they let you know when your father and Ward Cameron’s businesses had come crashing down, forcing the two men off the island. They had no power anymore, so eight years later you decided to move back to your home. People had gossiped at first, but they moved on to the next big thing when they realized that neither you nor JJ cared what they had to say. You wanted to be in the place where you grew up and fell in love, and you wanted Mia to be surrounded by the friends that you called your family.

Mia was just about bouncing in her seat by the time you got home. You hurried to get her out of her carseat so she could rush inside and see her dad. Friday’s were always her favorite because JJ got off work early and was already home by the time you brought her back from school.

She pulled you along by the hand as she continued on about her fairytale. “The evil king disappeared and they lived happily ever after.”

JJ scooped Mia up as the two of you entered the house, making the little girl squeal in delight.

“Daddy!”

“Who lived happily ever after, Mia-mine?” She giggled as he burrowed his face in her little belly.

“The princess and the pogue!”

JJ’s eyes met yours over Mia, giving you an intrigued look.

“Kylie’s older sister told her a fairytale at lunch about a couple that used to live on the island.” You tell him with a knowing grin.

“A fairytale? That’s awesome, baby.” JJ lowers Mia back down to her feet. “Hey, why don’t you go wash up and Mommy and I will make you a snack.”

“Okay, Daddy!” The little girl runs off happily.

You make your way to the kitchen, JJ coming up behind you and snaking his arms around your waist. “So the princess and the pogue, huh?” He smirks as you turn to face him.

“Who knew we’d become an OBX fairytale?” You reply.

“It makes sense. It doesn’t get much more ‘happily ever after’ than this. Right, princess?”

You give him a gentle kiss. “Right, pogue.”

~

Writing Masterlist

[neoplatinum]

mission: gmag | kim minji

summary: coworkers fall in love, very oddly...

pairing: barista!minji x barista!reader

themes: HUMOR, coworkers to lovers, slow-burn, fluff...like tooth-rotting sweetness, rest of newjeans!, major loser reader

wc: 5.4k

"no, listen to me, it's M I N," sakura is so over this, honestly. but you promised to buy her a new controller for her switch if she helped you, so she goes through with it.

"m...i...n..." sakura types slowly as she scrolls with a glass of water in one hand.

"ji," you continue quickly.

"what was that?" she asks and looks up at you.

"j...i. j for james and i for like iphone, i dont know." sakura nods and returns back to typing.

"okay okay, minji.....minji...kim minji....i found her!" sakura flips her phone to show you the girl's instagram page.

you squint at sakura's shaky hands.

"stop, stop. I can't see with your hands shaking all over." sakura frowns at you and tries pulling her phone away. but you're quick to grab it out of your hands. feeling like you've hit the jackpot.

"yes! it's her!"

sakura rolls her eyes and grabs more chips from the coffee table, popping them into her mouth as you happily scroll through your coworker's public instagram page.

"you know you could just talk to her right? like at work...where you both work together in that cramped barista station."

"kkura, you really aren't helping." you mumble as you hit one of the posts of minji at the beach; she's smiling and showing off her cute brown dog. you had overheard minji talking with another worker about her family's brown mini poodle. "that must be choco."

"what i also don't understand is why you're looking her up, on MY phone. when you have a perfectly working phone." sakura continues to eat through the family size bag of lays.

you scoff and pull the blanket off of sakura's legs. "what if one day she asks me to exchange socials and she sees that i've searched her up already? i can't let that happen."

you roll your eyes like it's the most obvious reason.

"wow, i thought i was a loser, but this really takes the cake." she shakes at the bag for more lays and returns her attention to the show thats been playing in the background.

you pay sakura no mind as you now have found yourself happily going through her page. examining each post closely and even going through her tagged photos for more information.

"okay, stop, this is just creepy. you're like a cyber-stalker." sakura yanks her phone out of your hand and pushes your chest away to knock you off your balance. you topple over like a bowling pin. "don't forget you have to buy me new controllers for this!"

sakura leaves with her phone in hand, probably off to phone her friends, leaving you all alone in the apartment with whatever show's been playing.

"what a cockblock." you mutter out as you finish up the lays bag and crumple it, getting ready to go to bed. you let out a long yawn that turns into a groan until the air has left your lungs. now you're coughing like a mad man trying to drink water, you finally cool down.

--

"welcome to milk mocha!" minji shouts from behind the counters, you successfully arrive just shy of 15 minutes late for your shift.

"oh, you're here." minji comments when she looks up from behind the espresso machine and glances at you. you grimace at the dismissive tone, but all minji can see is your hair all over the place and shirt worn inside out and backwards.

needless to say, you pressed snooze a few times too many, and now you're paying the consequences.

"i am so so so sorry minji, i slept past my alarm." you beg for forgiveness and start spewing about how you tripped over your charging cable, accidentally burned your tongue during breakfast, wore wet socks. and minji's heard enough already.

"okay, lets just...get you set up. you're lucky it's slow right now." she ushered you into the staff room and your heart warms at how considerate she is. even feeling a little lovesick that she hasn't written you up for tardiness.

"you're the best minji!" you shout over your shoulder as you change into the work shirt and tie an apron around your waist. horrified to find the tag of your t-shirt facing the world.

you try brushing your hair as best as you can, then tucking into your work cap. you walk out onto the floor and see a few customers around. no one seems to be ordering and you thank the coffee gods for this opportunity.

"soooo minji...." you start, as you wipe down the counters.

"yes?" she's busy cleaning the machines in the meantime and checking that there's enough supplies in the mini fridge.

you turn to her and smile widely, "are you single?"

she stops what she's doing and turns to you. "yes, why do you ask?" in the most monotone voice you've ever heard.

you wonder if minji was a robot in her past life.

"oh, no reason, just curious, hehe." you mumble to yourself and minji looks at you confused but then a customer walks in.

"welcome to milk mocha! how can i help you?" you begin and take the guy's order.

minji's walked away to get ready for the lunch rush, but mostly to think about your question.

--

"hanni, listen to me, the girl's weird." minji says over facetime. hanni's laying on her back scrolling through instagram and nodding along to whatever minji's ranting about.

"mhm, mhm." hanni finds a cute cat video and sends it to haerin.

"she asked me today if i was single."

"mhm."

"and like, why would you ever ask your coworker that? i think that's weird, like she's crossing work boundaries you know?"

"mhm."

"bro! are you even listening?" minji starts tapping at the screen, taking hanni's attention away from the many cat videos.

"yes bro! something about being single?" hanni only spares her some attention before returning back to her cat videos.

"yes! she asked me if i was single!"

hanni looks back into the small rectangular box that minji is in, "okay, i dont see a problem."

haerin sends over a funny gif of fluffy dogs tripping. hanni laughs while minji continues to rant about her new coworker.

then a random notification pops up.

[hairein]: "HI ITS HYEIN HI HI HI"

hyein must have taken haerin's phone and has begun spamming through all the group chats that haerin has. hanni decides that's enough scrolling for a day.

hanni closes her instagram to focus on the conversation, also muting haerin's account for good measure.

"i don't think it's weird that she asked if you're single. if you find someone weird, then of course you're going to think everything they do is weird." hanni continues as she sits up and pulls her self to her desk.

minji goes quiet, thinking about her own views on her new coworker. she's between reasoning that it's okay that she thinks you're weird, but she also feels bad because maybe you two just got off on the wrong foot.

she's never considered giving you a real chance to prove yourself. when you walked in two weeks ago for your first shift with a huge staff in hand (you were going to a convention later cosplaying as maki from jjk) minji already knew to stay away from you.

it doesn't help that the other people at work also thought you were weird. later that shift, your manager reprimanded you for showing up to work with a weapon; you profusely apologized and tried to show that it was just a foam staff. all the other workers already looked at you weirdly though, so maybe minji just followed along.

"well now i feel bad." minji concludes as hanni watches her through the screen.

"good! be more open-minded next time." hanni concludes and hangs up on minji immediately. minji on the other end drops her jaw and curses hanni through the phone.

--

"order for jay!" you shout from the counter, wiping down the americano. minji's shift just started but you're already elbow deep in your shift. it seems that friday's are always busy at miilk mocha. everyone is scrambling to get these orders out as quick as possible.

you look more tired for today's shift, constantly rubbing at your eyes and yawning when no one's looking. kazuha seems concerned that you're so tired.

"hey, you okay?" kazuha asks when you sit down for a quick break. you nod.

"yeah stayed up playing genshin, you know how things go." you explain and continue rubbing at your eyes. hitting a little too hard that it makes you see stars when you blink.

"you need to stop playing till 4am, you know you have a shift at 7." kazuha explains to you, she's already working on the next order. you take a breather and sip on the coffee you made for yourself.

"it's not my fault that game is so addicting." you explain and stretch your body, getting ready to take on the rest of the orders. minji finally fixes her apron and walks out to see you and kazuha chatting it up.

minji tries inserting herself into the conversation, hoping to see a new side of you that isn't so...peculiar.

"what's genshin?"

"minji! you don't know what genshin is?" you exclaim and begin going on a long rant about the game and it's gacha mechanics. you even begin explaining the pulls you have gotten. by the end of it, minji is even more confused and intrigued by you, also worried about your financial responsibility (lack of) because you really just dropped 300 bucks for in-game content.

--

"how are things with the new girl?" hanni's eating her sandwich and minji can't help but feel down.

minji scratches her neck as she thinks about you, "she's good...explained to me the lore of genshin, and then i found out that the staff that she brought to work on her first day was actually for a cosplay outfit, and not just a weapon she carries around."

hanni nods and grabs minji's drink, taking a sip out of it, "so, she's not that weird, just probably made a poor impression."

"yes, you were right." minji sighs and digs into her sandwich, feeling guilty about making presumptions about you.

"hey, cheer up! it's okay, i had a horrible impression of you when i first met you." hanni drinks the rest of juice and lets out a satisfied "ah." until she realizes it wasn't her drink to begin with.

minji just glares at her, "you better pay me back for that."

"see this is why i didn't like you at first." hanni complains but fishes out a five dollar bill and slaps it into minji's hand.

--

"order for macy." you grab the hot chocolate and place it on the counter. a cute little girl with pigtails walks up to the counter and grabs the hot chocolate, standing on her tippy toes. you look over the counter and aw at the cute kid.

"hi macy, want to see my latte art?" you offer, macy nods enthusiastically, you grin before grabbing the frothing cup and doing a nice rosetta for the girl.

she smiles in awe and you laugh, handing her a free cookie for staying, "don't tell anyone i gave you this, okay?" you offer your pinky finger to the small girl. she pinky swears and tucks the cookie into her jacket pocket before leaving with her hot chocolate in hand.

minji's watching the whole interaction and despite being shift manager and wanting to reprimand you for giving out free sweets to customers without asking firsthand, she doesn't have the heart to ruin the sweet act you just did.

in fact, when you find her staring at you, you let out a sheepish laugh and try to move past the fact you gave away a free cookie.

--

"minji! do you want a burger, or hot dog?" you ask, you've officially dedicated yourself the grill master at the company barbecue. the other employees are busy chatting each other up, but you're manning the grill with a coke zero in hand, and expertly making everyone's orders.

"burger, please." minji walks away from her conversation to watch over you, surprisingly you're good at manning the grill, despite still finding way to trip over nothing during work.

this side is actually quite charming, even if you have those ridiculous frog sunglasses over your eyes.

"how are you doing?" minji asks, she peers over the grill and finds rows and rows of burger patties and hot dogs on the other side. you're expertly checking each burger for doneness and rolling hot dogs to ensure even cooking.

"doing great! all patties and hot dogs are coming out delicious and hot hot hot!" you explain. you turn to her and all she can see are those goofy frog glasses on your face. you give her a smirk before turning back to the grill. "first burger that's done is yours to take, by the way."

minji blushes at the sentiment. "you really don't have to do that. everyone should eat first."

"no can do minji, got to make sure you're well fed." you explain and continue flipping burgers while drinking your coke zero. minji finds it adorable how focused you are at this job, even if no one is expecting stellar quality burgers/hot dogs.

"watch out minji!" your head turns faster and you see a football flying your way, definitely going to hit minji on the head, so you block her from the football, having it land straight into your forehead.

"oof." you land backwards and fall to the grass, now rubbing your forehead from the hit. the other coworkers are running up and checking on you, meanwhile all you can do is ask, "you alright minji? it didn't hit you right?"

she blushes wildly at the question and whispers a quiet "i'm good." while you are being pulled off the ground and everyone asks how you're doing. you make jokes, playing it off, saying you were born with a head harder than bricks. everyone laughs and returns back to what they were doing.

"okay, back to the grill." you brush off the dirt all over your apron, and start humming a song while plating finished burgers, handing the first one to minji. "for you!" you tell minji and she gives a thank you before walking away to eat it.

the rest of the barbecue, minji seems to stick by your side throughout the day. this doesn't go unnoticed by kazuha who saw the whole ordeal. her eyes squinting as she sips on her drink.

--

"zuha zuha! i'm tired!" you exclaim, you're working the earliest shift, you were opener and on food prep for the shift. it's near the middle of your shift when you decide to take your break. both kazuha and minji are busy tending to the coffee shop. you sit on a step stool behind the counter to eat a cold croissant from one of the failed batches.

"go walk around or something, you need to get your blood pumping." she explains and goes into depth about the stretches that would promote blood flow and restore energy to your body. you aren't interested in hearing actual solutions, just wanting to vent.

"no! you can't tell me what to do!" you grumble and stuff more of the croissant in your face, even picking out the ham slice to eat separately. minji finds this all a bit weird, as in weird in her stomach kind of weird. the same kind of weird she feels when someone takes the last bag of chips in the convenience store when she goes up to buy it.

she watches how kazuha is so easily able to grab you by the arm, a boundary that she would never cross. and kazuha is pushing you into the backrooms, while you make kissy faces at kazuha, all of which are being dodgeds left and right. "you love me zuha, just admit it!" you shout before the door is closed on you.

kazuha walks back out to the barista station and smiling at minji before continuing to work, "she's something else." minji just nods and tries to will away that nasty feeling in her gut.

"you know she's my cousin right?" kazuha continues, minji stops what she's doing.

"no, i didn't. wow that makes a lot of sense actually." minji explains, kazuha just laughs at her shocked face.

"yeah, just thought you should know." kazuha winks at minji before returning to her espresso machine. minji is confused by the wink, but it's too late to ask; kazuha is already busy in work mode. the feeling in her stomach quells a bit.

--

"what are you looking for?" minji jumps at the sudden voice behind her. you're peering over her shoulder as she holds the walk-in door open.

"you scared me!" minji exclaims and hits you on the shoulder, leading you to pout and rub at your shoulders.

"sorry, bad habit of mine." you explain, "so, what are you looking for?"

minji's still looking around for food that she can eat. she had the great idea of waking up an hour later today, only to find out that hanni already ate her work lunch with a measly 'sorry! i'll pay you back :)) ~hanni' scribbled over a sticky note taped to the fridge door. minji groaned and sped off to get to work on time, completely forgoing a lunch.

"hopefully lunch, hanni ate my lunch."

"you have a bunny named hanni?" you question, trying to look for food in the walk-in.

"no, i have a roommate named hanni, she always steals my food, claims it tastes better than her own food." minji sighs and looked at different rows for hopefully another lone croissant or even a cookie. "is there really no food in here?"

"probably not, since shipment's tomorrow and we've had a busy week." you explain but then you pull your phone out, making a quick call.

"yes one order of a club sandwich, with chips and a cookie please...thank you!" you speak into the phone, minji's confused but you smile at her when she looks at you confused. "okay thank you, can I pick it up now?" and then you hang up the phone.

"what was that?" minji questions but you've already darted out of the walk-in, and minji's hot on your trail watching you run out of the store and make a quick beeline to the deli store around the corner, with your work cap and work apron on. minji laughs at your antics, but her heart warms at the sentiment.

minji returns back into the coffee shop. she might as well wait for you to return so she opens her phone.

[minmin]: new girl bought me lunch

[hanbunny]: you're kidding. even i wouldn't do that.

[minmin]: of course you wouldn't you ate my work lunch!

[minmin]: literally this is all your fault >:(

[hanbunny]: hey, new girl literally is buying you lunch, i think im being a great wingwoman actually, my genius should never be doubted :>

[minmin]: shut up.

[minmin]: also pay me back.

you return breathing heavy but with a brown takeout bag in front of minji's face. minji puts her phone away as she grabs the bag, surprised to see all the things you ordered in the bag. "you really didn't have to do this, how much was it?"

"free 99, don't pay me back minji. it's a thank you for all times you've covered for me when i was late to work." you stretch your legs and sit down next to minji, watching her enjoy the food that you bought.

"want some?" minji splits half her sandwich.

"sure!" you happily grab at the half presented to you and chew happily; minji just laughs at the sight. you remind her of a dog in the way you're so energetic and food driven.

"well if you won't let me pay you back, can i cook you dinner?" minji takes a leap of faith and turns to you, your mouth drops open and you nod intensely, almost choking on the sandwich but finally swallowing the bite.

"yes! i would be honored to try your cooking." you offer as you bite into the sandwich again.

minji smiles at that, "it's a date then."

--

"no, kkura, listen. she said 'it's a date then', but like i don't actually think it's one." you explain while sakura's playing resident evil. her focus being taken up by this new development but also the anxiety from how scary the game is.

"okay, so it's a date." she echos back, moving her head away from the screen.

"but i don't think it is. you know how some people just say it's a date, but it turns out it's just a friend date?" you explain and groan into sakura's plushies.

"no, not really." sakura continues, jumping when a random NPC shows up on the screen's peripheral.

"i just don't want to make it seem like i read it wrong." you explain, toying with the feet of the duck plushie. "what if i the overread it and bring roses to a friend date, you know? then she would think i'm weird and not want to be friends with me. which is fine! but i really would like this to be a date."

"listen kid, just ask her directly if it's a friend date or more. it's easy." sakura explains plainly, frankly you've been going through this back and forth for the past fifteen minutes and sakura's had enough.

you freak out, taking a sharp intake, "absolutely not! that would ruin the mood, then i would look like i'm making her look like an idiot, and minji is not an idiot." you explain.

"i gave you the best advice i got, if you're not going to take it then leave."

"kkura pleaseeee, i need a better way to figure this out."

"nope, not hearing it, good luck!" sakura tunes you out, putting her headphones back on and locking in.

you walk out with sakura's duck plushie still in your hands, if she won't give you good advice then you're taking her belongings.

--

you give yourself some words of encouragement as you knock on her apartment door. behind this door was the living space of your crush and you were sweating, rocking on your feet back and forth in anticipation.

"hello! you're minji's coworker right?" the door opens quickly, and a shorter girl stands before you; she is definitely not minji.

"yes, and you're hanni?" you question to which she nods, excitedly welcoming you into their home. it's what you would expect of minji's living space, very light cream and brown colors all over the living space.

"hanni! i told you to let me answer the door!" minji rushes out of her room, with a cute top on and her hair done in cute braids framing her face, you think she looks gorgeous.

"well minji, it's rude to keep a guest waiting." hanni laughs and smiles at minji weirdly, giving her a quick wink and a pat on her shoulders before disappearing into her room, "it was nice to meet you!"

"you too!" you shout as hanni closes her door.

minji feathers through her hair, and directs you to take off your jacket. you're looking around and you spot minji's work clogs by the shoe rack, and laugh at the sight.

"sorry about hanni, she's usually not so enthusiastic." minji's leading you over to the kitchen where you can see her dinner being cooked. you smile at the delicious smells invading your nose.

"not at all, she seems very nice." you reply back and settle into one of the bar stools.

minji stands awkwardly, confused on how this date should go. "would you like anything to drink? we have water, juice, coke zero, wine-"

"coke zero." you decide, and minji laughs remembering your obsession with that specific drink, no other kind of coke.

"okay, coke zero it is." she hands you the drink to which you happily start drinking, even letting out a large burp, "excuse me."

minji just laughs and finishes stirring the pasta and plating them on the table, it's your favorite, carbonara. you thank the pasta gods for this delicious meal and start to dig in.

minji really hopes the pasta she made tastes good, "how is it?"

"so delicious, better than any pasta i've had before!" you are definitely enjoying the meal as you are finished with the plate before minji can even eat half of hers.

"can i have seconds?"

minji laughs, "of course."

you give yourself another bowl of pasta, happily chatting about interests, you find out that minji's a bit of a audiophile, enjoying all kinds music. she's speaking about her passions but you keep eyeing the stray hair on her cheek. so you reach out and pick it off if minji's face causing her to blush and glow red.

"thank you." she's back to the more reserved minji that you see whenever she's embarrassed. her hands are closed over each other.

"thank you for dinner by the way, you really didn't have to cook me dinner." you say in between bites. you appreciate the girl's kindness; you just can't tell if this is really a date. "i brought flowers by the way!" you go back to your bag and pull out pink carnations.

minji blushes at the gesture, finding it cute that you even thought to bring flowers. she grabs a vase and starts filling it to place the flowers that you have brought, she can't seem to contain her happiness. smiling wildly and then she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket.

[hanbunny]: hey

[hanbunny]: did you two kiss yet?

[hanbunny]: danielle's here too btw

[hanbunny]: hi minji! danielle here! i think your outfit is so cute <3333

[hanbunny]: anyways, hanni here, make a move by the end of the date, if you don't i don't have to pay you back for the lunch i stole

[hanbunny]: love you, good luck!

minji knew the two girls were up to something suspicious, hanni kept demanding that danielle come over earlier in the afternoon. she did not expect the two to be spying on her and your date. minji mutes hanni's conversation, turning to you.

"want to watch a movie?" minji asks as she walks over to the couch. you decide on the lego movie, claiming that it's been your favorite for years, and minji doesn't have the heart to tell you she finds it embarrassing to watch.

you both are enjoying it; well, mostly you are enjoying the movie, and minji's enjoying you enjoying the movie. you tend to recite the lines quietly when you know a long dialogue is coming up, or you clap when you find a scene enjoyable.

minji finds herself relaxing into the date, you seem preoccupied enough with the movie that she goes up to make some popcorn for herself. as she waits for the popcorn, she spots hanni's door cracked open. spotting two sets of eyes watching minji.

minji turns back towards the tv, happy that you haven't discovered the two. "i'm going to the bathroom." minji shouts. you give her a thumbs up and an okay, minji turns to hanni's room.

both girls are eyes wide seeing minji stalk towards them, trying to shut the door but minji's too strong, barging into the room, with hanni tumbling backwards into danielle. both of them sprawled out on hanni's carpet.

"you two have been spying us this whole time?" minji whisper shouts at them. quickly shutting the door behind her.

"i'm sorry!" danielle squeaked out while hanni glared at minji.

"you have nothing to be sorry about dani, minji here just doesn't understand that we are emotional support for her first date!" hanni explains, getting up to sit on her bed.

minji groans and looks around, seeing a giant corkboard filled with poorly shot photos of you and her at work, red string pinned criss crossing all over the board, as if this were a murder case.

"hanni, what is this?" minji nearly shouts, she's horrified to see photos of herself eyeing you or the other way around. hanni simply smiles at her work.

"this is my board for mission: GMAG." she explains proudly, "stands for mission: get minji a girlfriend."

"you have got to be kidding me." minji looks all over the board, trying not to be upset at hanni. she understands the girl is just looking out for her, but this is all a bit much.

"this wasn't my idea!" danielle explains, minji knows that danielle would never do something like this. so she glares at hanni instead, the girl just smirks and points at the board instead.

"whatever, just don't make a peep, i need to get back to this date." minji explains and closes the door behind her, leaving the two alone.

"sorry that took so long." minji walks into the living room, seeing you happily invested in the movie. you smile at her, and pat the seat next to you, inviting her to join you.

"no worries, movie's good!" you explain. even though minji might not completely love the lego movie, she is enjoying being around you and spending time with you. also find it cute that you dropped a blanket over her as she got comfortable.

you recognize the final portion of the movie, "this is my favorite part, minji." you explain to her how cool the collaboration of lego fans and the production cast were. giving her insight on the movie that she definitely did not know. she ends up kissing you through your avid explanation, with your hands all over the place.

you thank the heavens she made the first move because you were worried this was a friend date. minji turns shy at the action, a little shocked by her own boldness. she shifts away from you and avoids your eye contact.

"minji, you just kissed me." you say, a little slow on the pick up. your brain is trying to catch up to what just happened. minji just nods, seemingly invested in the ending credits.

"did you mean to?" you ask, pushing her shoulder a bit.

"yes." she says and you can see her ears getting all red from the embarrassment.

"oh thank god, because i wasn't sure if this was a friend date or romantic date, i mean obviously i wanted it to be a romantic date, but i really wasn't sure if it was. i asked my roommate for help, but she was no help. she told me to ask you if this was a more than a friendly date, and i was like nuh uh no way i am going to ask minji that." you trail on and on, a nervous habit you picked up whenever you didn't know what to say next.

minji kisses you a second time. and you stop talking. "it's definitely more than a friend kind of date." she reaffirms your suspicions and you let out a little laugh. you pull her into a hug, before grabbing her face and giving her a kiss as well.

"i want to kiss you more often." you say.

"yeah?"

"yeah." you conclude proudly.

hanni and danielle are still in hanni's room with their ears against the gap of the door. and then you hear a loud squeal followed by a loud crash. you turn to minji and she immediately groans.

"hanni!" minji shouts. it's silent for a couple seconds until you hear a timid muffled voice. and out comes two girls from hanni's room. you're shocked because you completely forgot about hanni, and to now learn that there was another girl too makes you even more confused.

"hi minji, hello minji's lover." hanni smirks at you, while you hide yourself behind minji.

"hanni stop." minji groans out.

"what? mission: gmag is a success from what i can see." hanni gives you a wink, you feel oddly exposed by the action. meanwhile, hanni's friend is just smiling and nodding at you. you feel a little less worried with her.

as minji and her two friends head back into hanni's room to assess the aftermath caused by the troublemakers. you sit back, scratching your head and munching on popcorn. puzzled by hanni's interest in you.

minji returns with a smile, and casually suggests, "another movie?"

"lego movie part 2?" you ask with a grin.

--

a/n: wrote this in a very silly goofy mood. this piece was only supposed to be around 2k originally...anyways, stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[frracturedjaw]

Hi Hope u already did one but maybe s/o sleeping without pants because it's hot af and I am dying here :,)

Have a great day/night/morning :D

unspecified so i just did a few short ones for bo, vinny, and tommy.

warning(s): a little suggestive in some places

a/n: sorry this took nearly four months teehee

bo sinclair

* he could care less about nudity. he grew up with brothers, louisiana is hotter than hell. he gets it. however…

* he sees you half naked in any context and his mind is already going two hundred miles an hour into everything he wants to do to you. zero filter zero hesitation.

* assuming you’re already asleep, he’s not going to act on those thoughts. but he’s definitely chewing his lip and gripping the front of his jeans like the pervert he is.

* when you groan and twist around on top of the sheets, something changes, though.

* he’s still imagining himself pressed up on you. but he’s thinking more about how your legs would feel tangled up with his own.

* the twin pumping of your hearts. the feel of your breath fanning across his chest. each other’s hands curled up into one another so hard that his knuckles get sore.

* he wants the marks he leaves on you to be not from his tools, his pliers or his tape or his knife, but from him. his skin on yours. the pressure of your weight on him.

* you wake when he drops his belt and it clinks loudly in the little bedroom. there’s a mild panic in your expression that makes his chest twinge.

* but when he slips into bed and you shift to press the entire length of your body against him. when you fit your chin over his shoulder and hook a leg over his hip. when your breathing returns to the slow in, pause, out.

* that night he dreams of the usual things. his parents, the tourists, the museum. but also of you. just you.

* you making breakfast

* you sitting on the back porch

* you laying with your head in his lap

* for the first night in a very long time, bo sinclair sleeps peacefully.

vincent sinclair

* you’d been wandering around the basement all day in an effort to stay cool, but all the hot wax made it fruitless. eventually you’d vanished upstairs to one of the empty bedrooms.

* he comes up to find you later on, finally peeling off his sweater and tying his hair back for a moment of relief.

* he walks into the bedroom and freezes at the threshold.

* you look straight from a botticelli painting. you look like Bouguereau. you look like Picou and Matisse and Klimt

* you look cut from marble and silk cloth, crystal and soft earth and sun

* you look like sky and sweet and home and being held and warm breath and moving water.

* his breath hitches when the bed creaks under his weight.

* he counts. you breathe two, three, four long lungfuls of the cool blue night air. then you reach up at him.

* vincent gathers you in his arms like you’re quicksilver. like you’re going to dissolve through the bed and deep into the earth if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. like he’ll die without you.

* (he’s convinced he might)

thomas hewitt

* he’s wracked with guilt when he first walks in on you asleep without all your clothes on. Luda Mae taught him better than this.

* but… you’re in his bed.

* he has half the mind to go sleep on the couch, but the heat would be even worse downstairs.

* he says a quick prayer for forgiveness and walks in with his eyes averted and does his best to go about his business getting ready for bed.

* he himself usually sleeps in just a shirt and boxers, but for whatever reason, you doing the same feels… intimate. you’re not exposed in that way, but at the same time, it’s still vulnerable.

* after standing (looming) over the bed for longer than is probably appropriate, he eases himself into bed beside you.

* his eyes wander to the tender apex of your thighs, admiring the soft flesh usually hidden from sight

* you adjust in your sleep, rolling to your back. he watches the lengths of muscle in your legs flex, then relax. your shirt rides up somewhat, revealing more supple skin

* he squeezes his eyes shut and leans back. he shouldn’t be taking advantage of the situation like this. if he has any respect for you, he should be showing it here.

* he tucks his hands underneath his legs for good measure and examines the speckled darkness behind his eyelids until sleep finds him.

* naturally, he wakes up the next morning with you on top of him.

* your head is turned to the side, your ear to his chest. your limbs have fallen to either side of him, but his shirt is clutched tight in one of your hands.

* where your skin meets his, he doesn’t feel the usual startling, crackling sensation of being touched without warning.

* he just feels warm. weight. the pink mark on the side of your face where you’ve been pressed against him makes his mouth twitch with a smile.

[pearlcigs]

⋆ french girl

“have you ever seen titanic?” you asked, toying with the hem of ellie’s shirt. “yeah, why?” ellie’s eyes were closed, hand under her head, serving as a makeshift pillow even though she was laying on two already. “y’know that one scene? where jack draws rose.” you voice, inching your body closer to her. “the one where rose gets naked and asks jack to draw her like one of his french girls? yeah i’m familiar.” ellie chuckles, unsure of where you could be going with this. “watched that scene more times than i care to admit.” she continued, eyes opening to look down at you, your head laying on her chest. “draw me like one of your french girls, ellie.”

the off white colored sheets were now wrinkled under your nude body. the flesh of your skin plush against the cool fabric that was quickly warming up due to your body heat. nerves coursed through each one of your blood vessels, taking deep breaths and rubbing your thighs together. you hadn’t expected your fantasy to get this far. posed like a doll, afraid to move and ruin the whole image, though ellie wasn't too concerned. she had your body in this position memorized, each perfect imperfection on your body engraved in her mind. she didn't think she could forget, even if she tried.

the sharp sound of her pencil scratching the paper put you somewhat at ease. the melodic sound making you eager to see what your girlfriend's artistic abilities would bring this time. your chest heaving with each breath, though it felt like you couldn't get enough air. "you're doin' great, babe." ellie praised, tongue poking out her mouth just slightly as a form of concentration. her pencil drew every one of your curves. verbatim on the paper to what she was looking at with her own eyes.

“why don’t you spread your legs a lil’?” she asked, it was innocent, truthfully. she wanted to make sure this drawing was perfect, from each stroke down to the pose. your face heated up, bottom lip slotting between your teeth at her vulgar yet seemingly sweet request. “els,” you giggle, gently trying to inform her of what her words meant to you. ellie looked up at you upon hearing the serenade of your voice calling for her. “hm?” the scratching of the pencil slowing to a stop.

just looking at you and how flustered you suddenly looked, she realized just what she said. a light pink pigment blushing over her freckled cheeks. “i mean, ‘course only if you want to.” she tries to correct her mistake, though she’s not entirely sure if it was a mistake to correct��� or even a mistake at all. “like this?” you mumble with bated breath, spreading your plush thighs apart just enough to let ellie see the start of your glistening cunt. she stares intently for a minute, trying to hold herself back from dropping her art supplies and crawling onto the bed to pleasure you the way you deserve.

“you look even prettier than rose.” she comments, offhandedly, as she returns her attention to the almost finished sketch. “can i see, els?” your voice is sweet, but full of eagerness. “you gotta wait till it’s done, babe. be patient.” she smiles with a cocky grin, liking the fact that even for just right now she’s the only one who’s ever seen this drawing. it prided her in more ways that one for reasons she couldn’t explain. “but ‘m not patient.” you complained, voice a borderline whine. “oh, trust me. i am well aware of that.” she shakes her head with a small laugh. “i’m almost done, alright? just hang on, baby.”

the few minutes it took her to finish the drawing of you that you were excited to see felt like hours. your body felt stiff, like you were turning into a statue to be a piece of art forever. ellie smudges a few of the harsh lines with her finger before putting her pencil down for the final time. she savors the feeling. of what? she’s not sure. “ready?” she asks, looking up at you and you’re already sitting up, enabling her to see more of your perfect body. she walks over to the bed, sitting next to you and somehow fighting back every erotic thought she had about you flipping the paper to finally show you.

you take in every sharp line that the pencil, that ellie claims is her lucky pencil, made. you looked at it so intensely that ellie thought maybe you didn’t like it, until you smiled. “you’re so talented, ellie.” you complimented, heart fluttering with adoration. ellie took the praise with a grain of salt, blush painting her bashful face. “couldn’t’ve made something this beautiful without the perfect muse.” she deflects, goofy grin on her face. ogling shamelessly at you body. she places the finished art piece on your night stand, hands caressing you body with a soft kiss to your lips. “come ‘ere, ‘french girl’.”

[rileyslibrary]

Hello! I just wanted to say that your fics have such a distinct feel that it makes it feel like a cinematic masterpiece so moving as each sentence is full of detail and care it’s INSANE

Could you do one where the 141 as a whole are able to go on leave for a few months but reader doesn’t really have a place to go? Like due to thier participation in the military their family has essentially cut contact with them and the military has been a placeholder for their home-life—how would Ghost react?

Once again I love your works and hope you have an amazing day ‼️

The Log Cabin: Pack Light

A/N: Hi, anon! Thank you for your kind words. Here’s the story; enjoy! :)

———————————————————————

You’re at the base’s garage, squatting on the roof of a battle-worn 1994 Land Rover Wolf, welding a rack that had been blown apart during your last mission. It’s quite admirable how these vehicles can withstand anything coming their way and still stand strong after so many years.

How long are you going to stay strong? The sparks dance around you as you manipulate the welding torch, wishing there was a similar way to mend your scars and those you’ve hurt in the past with your decisions.

But these things are far more complex than welding metal; you can’t mend fractured relationships with mere tools. It takes understanding and empathy—qualities that seem foreign to those once close to you.

Or maybe they’re right, and you’re unworthy of their forgiveness…

You close the oxygen and fuel torch valves, lift your welding mask, and wait for the molten metal to cool. You assess the seams and sigh; it needs more work. You put the welding mask back on, reignite the torch, and continue.

As the heat emanates from the torch, glowing around your gloved hands, it suddenly flickers and sputters before its flame eventually dies out. Baffled, you lift the torch in your hands and shake it. You turn towards the valve, only to see Ghost standing beside it, holding the handle. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, though he still wears his mask and carries a rucksack over his shoulder.

“I was calling out for you, but you couldn’t hear me over the...” he trails off, pointing at the torch.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” you say through the mask, “this thing is a pain to fix.”

Ghost looks at the rack, then back at you. “Does it need to be fixed now?” He asks.

“It does.” You insist, not wanting to disclose the actual reason.

“Liar.”

Your eyebrows shoot up from behind the welding mask. “Excuse me?”

“You expect me to believe that while the rest of the team is on leave and doesn’t require that vehicle, you absolutely need to fix it.” He says.

You look at the torch and then back at him. “I must do it so it’s ready when you guys return.”

“When you guys return.” He repeats. “So, you’re not leaving.”

You forcefully turn to face him. “I am leaving.” You assert.

“Oh yeah?” He provokes you. “Where are you going?”

“None of your business, Lt.”

“See?” He says and lifts both hands, “You’re lying.”

You lower your head and throw the torch onto the roof. “What do you want me to say, huh?” You murmur, “What?”

“The truth,” he replies, “and take that bloody mask off while you’re at it.”

“Why should I take it off?” You sneer and point at his mask. “You wear yours all the time.”

“You can see my eyes, though, can’t you?” He explains and points to his face. He gestures with his head towards you. “Let me see yours,” he commands.

You roll your eyes and lift the mask. He removes his balaclava in return.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” He asks. “What exactly are you trying to fix?”

‘My relationship with my family,’ you think to yourself and feel your face getting warmer than before when the wielding flames were burning around you.

He stands there with one thumb tucked under the rucksack’s strip. He’s waiting for an answer—a proper, truthful answer.

“This is my home.” You whisper, shrugging and lowering your head.

“What about your family?” He asks, and you shake your head, tears start filling your eyes.

“Any friends?” He asks again, this time softer.

You give him another negative shake of the head, which causes the tears to run down your face. You quickly wipe your cheeks with your gloves.

He removes his rucksack from his shoulder, drops it to the ground and puts his hands on his waist.

“Have you tried talking to them?” He asks.

“I did,” you reply, “but they don’t want anything to do with me. I disgust them, and I’m not proud either...”

“Nobody’s proud.” He admits and puts one hand on the roof’s rack, “But somebody has to do what we do.”

You sniff and rub your nose. “See? That’s why I’m here, fixing that damn rack; somebody has to do it.” You explain. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Not necessarily.” He shrugs. “Not all of us will go see family or friends; Price is travelling to the Caribbean alone as we speak, and I’m off to Scotland.”

“With Soap?”

“Fuck no!” He yells, and a chuckle escapes his lips. “He has no idea I’m going there.”

Your lips curl up, and he returns your smile. He knocks on the vehicle’s roof twice and opens his mouth to say something, but he hesitates and stops. You decide to break the silence.

“Thank you for listening to me.” You whisper.

He bites his bottom lip and pats the roof once more.

“Wanna come with me?” He asks.

Your face warms up again but for a whole different reason.

“T-to Scotland?!” You ask, surprised.

Ghost scratches his cheek and nods. “Yeah,” he replies, “it’s a small cabin in the woods—it has a single bed, an outdoor toilet, and we’ll have to hunt for food. But it has a beautiful pond for swimming and plenty of hiking trails.”

“Wow, wow, wow, one bed?!” You shout, throwing your hands up, “That’s a bit too forward, don’t you think, Lt.?”

“Come on!” He smirks, “As if we haven’t experienced that before. We’ll make it work.”

You look at him, and he returns your gaze. You’re grateful for his offer, but doubt still lingers.

“Thank you, Lt.,” you reply, “but I need to finish that rack.”

“Bollocks!” He shouts and smiles. “How long will it take you?”

“That’s not what I mean-”

“How long?” He repeats.

“Simon..”

He drops the smile and looks you straight in the eyes.

“I’m serious,” he whispers.

“You’re just offering out of pity.” You speculate, and he throws his head up, letting out a sharp chuckle.

“Very bold of you to think I’d invite you out of mere pity.” He says. “I thought you also had plans; that’s why I didn’t offer before. I’m doing it because I found the opportunity.”

You look at him, contemplating his words, then shake your head.

“Thanks,” you say, “maybe next time.”

He picks up his rucksack and begins walking towards the garage’s exit.

“We’re leaving in an hour!” he shouts as he walks towards the door.

“Ghost! “

“Pack light!”

———————————————————————

Part 2 this way ->

[strangesem]

hobie brown x goth!reader

a/n: I’m not goth but I am alt and borrow from a lot of traditional goth stuff so this request was really exciting for me :,))

requested by @buncom420 !! I’ll do the other one in a different post I just need some more time :)

first of all if you do goth makeup (full or partial) he thinks it’s so sick

you’d definitely hit it off immediately; I find members of different alternative subcultures mix together well and you two would be no different!

hobie loves how different your style is and how it defies societal expectations/norms

he could watch you get ready for literal hours on end he loves watching you put together clothes, accessories, shoes, etc and pairing it all with matching makeup

side note he definitely sees your makeup as a form of art and treats it as such; he’d probably ask you to teach him how to do individual parts slowly over time so one day he can try to do it for you

he might steal some of your accessories tbh-

but it’s okay bc he’d let you take whatever you want of his until he returns them

although he definitely prefers casual hangout dates he’d be down to see a goth show every once in a while!! alternative subcultures tend to overlap a bit so if he ever hears about a goth event he’d remember to bring it up to you

loves visiting you as spider-punk but there’s definitely some sort of meme out there with a picture of you two that says “goth/punk solidarity” or something lol-

he’s not super into goth music or anything but he will admit he prefers it to mainstream stuff and will learn your favourite songs on the guitar

would also def combine goth/punk elements in a song for you!!

if anyone ever made a distasteful comment about your style he’d definitely tell them to fuck off and stop preaching the establishments bs

if you somehow have similar shoe sizes he would also steal your boots I’m being serious

*if* you’re a spider-person and your suit was also goth inspired?? he thinks you look super cool

would def want to talk about how you integrated certain aspects into your suit

maybe you could even bounce ideas off each other on how to add more stuff to each others suits??

if you know anything about it you should talk to him about different subcultures within the goth community he’d find it really interesting

in return he’d describe different sectors of the punk movement/community!!

I honestly picture hobie dating someone who’s also alt in some way so this is the perfect combination tbh!! and he’d love you sm

reminder that hobie headcanon requests are open!!

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 16

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 16/? 9k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Frustrated by inconclusive endings, Eddie takes a seat behind the wheel. 

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

✏︎ Chapter CW: general angst, paternal angst, drug mention

Thursday, December 12th 1985

Before the first morning bell, Eddie gave Judy at reception his best impression of Wayne over the phone. He wasn’t totally lying, he was in fact, quite sick. Sick of all the taunting looks from meathead jocks. Sick of the way Ms. O’Donnell cleared her throat every five minutes. Sick of waking up so goddamn early. Sick of wasting his time. So after hanging up the phone, he stuffed a few essentials in his backpack and made for the door. 

Like clockwork, Wayne always came home at around 8:10 AM, and though it would be far from the first time he’d skipped school, Eddie would rather not have to explain himself. Besides, he could use a change of scenery. There was no denying winter anymore, the ice he scraped off his windshield made sure to remind him. On a typical hooky day he would drive down to Lover’s Lake and toss open the rear doors, catch a breeze, light a joint, sit back and take in the ripples on the water and the rustling leaves. But that had all frozen over, so unless he intended to burn through his whole tank of gas, he would need to get creative. 

That was how he found himself at Benny’s at 7:58 on a Thursday morning, setting up camp in a booth at the back of the restaurant. He ordered his usual — bacon, scrambled eggs, and a stack of pancakes in addition to white toast. Tossing his fourth emptied sugar packet beside the leaning tower of creamers, he sat back in the sticky, padded seat and took his first deep breath all morning. 

The diner was bustling lowly, a handful of regulars perched on silver, spinning stools at the bar. From the frosted window leeching cool air beside him, he watched the funeral procession of headlights down Washington under a mournful sky. Just another day for the upright citizens of Hawkins, Indiana. From his cozy booth, Eddie sipped the top off his very full mug and smiled to himself. 

Sprawling his belongings around the piping hot plates, he popped on his headphones, cracked open his monster manual, and got to work. The first hour flew by like his pencil across the graph paper. Between the bacon bits that had leapt from hand to page, a formidable lineup of foes was taking shape. Bottom line; the boys were in for a world of hurt tomorrow. He did his best to resign the grease to the flimsy napkins, but by the time he was finished, syrup tacked the gargoyle and gorgon pages together. 

“Anything else I can grab for ya besides the check?” Sheri—according to her name tag—asked with a tired lean as she reached to clear his plates. 

Eddie glanced down sheepishly at his freshly topped off mug. “I uh, think I might be staying for lunch.”

Sheri forced a hot pink smile, catching the fork with her decorated finger when it threatened to slide off the plate. “Y’ want me to get a room set up for you too?” she joked with a wink of her spidery lashes. “Just teasin’ sweetie. You just flag me down when you’re ready.”

Switching out his tapes, Eddie shut the cassette player and stared out the window as the men at the bar tossed their napkins and fished out their wallets. Snow was falling in lazy clumps, clinging to his windshield. Somewhere behind the overcast clouds, the sun was rising steadily. It was dismal, a fitting backdrop for the opening track of Black Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell. Of all the seasons, winter belonged to metal. Like it was made for cruising down a quiet, snow-covered street in the middle of nowhere. Made for drowning out Bing Crosby crooning from the speaker in the corner above him. Tinsel glittered on the small tree perched on a cloud of fake snow beside the cash register. Ornaments on swags swayed to the thump of footsteps passing. Eddie sighed and stared into the changing street lights.

Glancing at his watch he figured you were probably wrapping up the film with second period, knitting your brow and drawing your pen across the papers you were grading. He wondered what you’d think when the bell rang for fourth and you found his seat empty. Would you think he was upset with you? There was a small part of him that hoped so, and another part that hoped you would understand. After all, he was giving you the space you asked for, was he not?

Like a siren, your story—tucked between his notebook and the magazines he’d exhausted twice cover to cover—called to him. Cracking open the plastic spine, he dove headfirst into the typewritten pages.

For the whole narrow path into Rower’s End, Cybelle had sat in the front of the caravan, breathing the briny air unhindered by a barrier. Lazarus admired the brilliant fullness of her smile as she watched the seagulls soar overhead, under the clouds she had only ever seen from above. The sunlight had graced them then, beaming down in golden rays, glinting on the distant waves as they approached the sleepy seaside town. 

Eddie could feel the corners of his mouth tug as Lazarus regaled Cybelle with a story of a time when he’d accidentally taken a crab home with him after spending a day at the beach, followed by an explanation of what a crab was. Cybelle seemed delighted with the prospect of seeing one, even more-so when he told her how he’d discovered the little hitchhiker when it pinched his rear in bed that night. Eddie noticed the way Cybelle leaned closer whenever Lazarus told stories, the way her hand came to shield her bare face with a giggle when he mentioned his rear. The way her delicate, copper fingers lingered over the soft skin of his forearm when she checked beneath his bandage. The wound was healing nicely — no sign of infection and not a thorn in sight. She warned that it might scar, but Lazarus did not appear concerned—rather the opposite actually—as if a strange part of him was pleased with the idea of having something to remember her by. 

As they dipped over the final hill toward Rower’s End, Lazarus told her another story. A dream, rather, of a little cottage in Shantiglade with a full sized bed, and a garden, and a goose egg omelette big enough for two. A dream that would likely never come to pass. Cybelle seemed equally enchanted by it. Sitting back against the boxy, wooden seat of the caravan, she breathed in the salty air and imagined how good it would feel to do so every day. To experience the feeling of sand between her toes, of the ocean at her ankles, of propping her elbow against their shared kitchen table and gracing Lazarus with a naked smile before trying whatever an omelette was. It was good like this too — bumping along under a clear blue sky as Turnip plodded down the scarcely trodded path, watching the wind caress the wild grass and Lazarus’ even wilder curls, hearing his tales and his laughter.

Around the time he would be slumping into his desk in the back of your classroom, the bell dinged over the door of the restaurant. Eddie cranked the volume on his headset to drown out the chatter of a family of four clambering into the booth in front of him. The little boy had brought a pair of plastic drumsticks with him, beating a rhythm on the steel-rimmed table much to the annoyance of his little sister, who was clutching her book the way Eddie was yours. Dipping his few remaining fries into the smear of ketchup, he wondered why they weren’t in school on a Thursday afternoon. As he focused back on the type-written letters, he figured he should be the last to judge. 

Eddie felt for Lazarus, he really did. The way he looked at Cybelle as she emerged from the cave, cradling the ghostfern like a pale, translucent child. The scene was as beautiful as it was somber — waves lapping at the rocky shoreline as the setting sun cast its deep orange hues on both of them. The rocks—slick with algae—had Cybelle stumbling, but Lazarus was quick to offer his arm. She accepted without hesitance, clutching the plant like a bouquet as her deep earthen fingers braced the pale angles of his. He lead her down the cascading stone as if it were a chapel aisle, slow and steady until they reached the flat edge of the water. There—in the golden remains of the day—seagulls dipped and soared over the glittering ocean, clasped hands swayed in the lapping wind, and for a moment, they had everything they came for.  

After what seemed like both a small eternity and an aching second, it was Cybelle who broke away, tracing the ridges of his fingers as hers fell, stating out loud what both of them knew — that night was coming soon. 

The journey back to Torgaard proved easier than the journey out, at least in terms of natural foes. No fenfinks or villainous vines, but the sky seemed to hang much lower. Dark, stormy clouds loomed overhead, casting its pale grey light over the moss curtains outside of Fenwood, over the verdant  forests that shuddered in the gusting wind. There was a tension, a dread looming on the horizon that grew with each passing day. Even Eddie could sense it — the way Cybelle stared out into the swath of shifting green like she was attempting to soak up enough for the rest of her life. The way that Lazarus’ jokes were swallowed the creaking of the caravan. How nights that were once spent laughing over a roaring fire were now spent silently watching its crackling embers.

One day—just a few outside of Torgaard—the sky came crashing down. It sobbed in sheets, heavy enough to soak through Cybelle’s coat, to find the tear in her tent and make a lake of it. Lazarus ushered her inside the wagon, offered her a shirt that fit like a dress, offered to sleep on the floor. Assessing the size of the bed, and then the hard, narrow walking path, it was Cybelle who insisted they share it. She was small enough, or at least that was what she rationalized out loud. Lazarus did not argue. Her logic—unlike her tent—was water-tight. And so she climbed in between the soft linen sheets, tucked herself under the weight of the down blanket, and rested her damp, weary head on a pillow that smelled just like him.

Eddie glanced sheepishly around the restaurant, shielding the binder with his arm as Lazarus climbed in beside her. He hinged on each type-written word, lingering over the ones that stirred a fuzzy feeling. Written with careful attention to the way Lazarus’ chest rose and fell, how stiff their bodies were in hyper-awareness of the nearness to each other. How solid his shoulder felt under Cybelle’s cheek when the corner of pillow no longer sufficed. Slowly, they relaxed into the feeling. Not enough to sleep, but enough for Lazarus to free the arm that she was crushing. Enough to wrap it around her shoulder, to relish in the feeling of her cold nose in the warm crook of his neck.

It was good like this. Better when her fingers draped across the landscape of his pecks, felt his chest rise and fall like waves. Best when they awoke in the morning to the sun steaming in through the small, stained glass window above them. When their giggles shook the wagon. When their eyes met, closer than they’d ever been before. There, in the dim cocoon far outside the turning world, the smile that she had hidden for so long finally grew brave enough to capture his. And by the time they reached the towering stone walls of Torgaard, there was nothing more to hide from one another. 

Eddie flipped the page to find only a black, plastic pocket. He rubbed it with his fingers to make sure it wasn’t sticking to another. When it failed to separate, he sat back and fumed. That was it. There was no more. No ending, no closure.

Sheri leaned against the top of the booth seat opposite him, hand on her hip, shifting between her dirty white sneakers with a tired sigh. “Listen sweetie, I’ve got ten minutes left of my shift. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I’ve gotta cash you out before I leave.”

Eddie glanced at his watch, almost 2:00. “Yeah—yeah, no problem. Sorry for the trouble.”

“’S no trouble, just the way it goes around here. Hope you enjoyed your stay,” she said with a wink as she dropped the check. 

After six hours and two meals, Eddie had gotten his fill of watching the world turn through an old, frosted window. His head was spinning enough on its own. With a frustrated huff he peeled his graph paper and manual away from the sticky table before shoving them into his backpack. Slugging it over his shoulder, he grabbed the grease-stained check and made his way to the register. That was when he noticed it — the lonely, half-eaten omelette on the bar.

“Alright that’ll be ten seventy-five,” chimed Sheri. 

Tinsel glittered on the tree. Red, metallic bulbs swayed in the echo of his footsteps. Judy Garland caroled on about a merry little Christmas and he wondered if your characters would ever enjoy anything over their shared kitchen table or if that dream would be abandoned for their duties as well.

“Sir?”

Snapping out of his trance, he fished for his wallet and palmed her a twenty. “Keep the change,” he muttered before turning toward the door with a hoist of his backpack.

Her jaw hung open. “Oh my word, are you serious?” she called to his back, but the bell above the door was the only answer she received.

______

Main Street Vinyls was a ghost town on a Thursday afternoon, and Eddie preferred it that way. Aside from Jerry at the counter, it was just him and his noisy thoughts, accompanied by the slow plod of his own heavy boots as they weeped against the carpet. At least in this store he could escape the onslaught of Christmas tunes. Jerry—old hippie that he was—at least had some sense. Sometimes even sense enough to play some halfway decent rock music, but today Eddie would settle for Neil Young over the jingle bell garbage blasting through every speaker in Hawkins.

Glancing down the rows of plastic cassette spines, Eddie perused the M section as he kicked himself for giving away almost ten dollars. There was an album by a new band he’d only read about in magazines called Megadeth. Turning the tape over in his hands, he examined the cover. Everything about it spoke to him — the skull with its mouth chained shut surrounded by knives and candles, the title — Killing Is My Business. Flipping it over to the back, the phrase continued in haunted red letters …and Business Is Good! 

The change he gave away in a fit of blind stupidity would have easily afforded it and left him with some to spare. With a bitter sigh, he shoved the tape back in its slot, knowing for a fact that the cash register at Benny’s had eaten the last bill he had in his wallet. Padding slowly down the aisle, he began his calculations. 

He had a few regular deals lined up this weekend but would need to dig into his “savings” in the bottom of an old tobacco tin and pay Rick a visit before any of that happened. He might make eighty bucks if he was lucky. Maybe eighty more over the course of the week between the deals at school. Nobody wanted to spend too much time outside this time of year, so the park bench location was always iffy depending on how bad it was. He would resort to other classic meetup spots, like under the bleachers or the back of his van. 

If he networked enough he might have some left over after helping Wayne with the bills. Scanning past the Tina Turner and T-Rex tapes, he wondered how much Wayne suspected about his little business. Surely he had to have some suspicion. Gig money, odd jobs, and oil changes for neighbors couldn’t possibly afford the kind of gear he had, or the ink in his skin, or the cash he contributed monthly. Wayne was sharp, and though he was no saint himself, he shuddered to think what he would say if he discovered his nephew was straying down the same path his brother took.

Peering back over his shoulder, he eyed the Megadeth tapes again—only three in stock—lined up like gifts wrapped in cellophane. They were such tiny things. Small enough to hide beneath his palm, to slide into the pocket of his coat with room to spare. Glancing up at the angled surveillance mirror in the corner of the store, he saw Jerry at the counter, humming obliviously as he stuck price tags on a fresh shipment of tapes. Over the tall shelf that separated them, he expected to meet his own eyes, but instead saw another man. A man he hadn’t seen in quite a while.

Eddie remembered finding a G chord for the first time; how big the fretboard felt in his small hand, how awkwardly his fingers had to stretch, how a larger set of hands had helped him find it. He earned a broad smile when the chord rang out, one he would search for again and again with every strum. 

Sometimes in the late evenings as he crept past Wayne with a lunchbox full of drugs while he was watching reruns of Bonanza on the couch, Eddie would tell himself that at least he wasn’t stealing cars, or drinking himself half to death, or rotting behind county bars. At least he was still in school, something Warren Munson couldn’t say even at sixteen. At least Eddie could say he was trying.

With a bitter shake of his head, he continued down the aisle, leaving the tapes behind for the record bins that lined the walls. Mindlessly he walked his fingers over the cardboard spines, glazing past titles he’d seen a dozen times. Nothing new. Nothing different. Few things ever were in Hawkins. Every day he’d wake up and slog himself to a different type of prison, sit in a classroom for eight hours and actively feel his brain rotting. He would crumple up his failed tests and shove them in his backpack, endure the stares from kids whose parents cared enough to give them a ride to school, day after day. And every day he would come home and see the twinge of pride on Wayne’s face for the fact that he’d gone at all.  

There were a few perks to sticking around, like running his club, and saving lost sheep, and seeing his friends everyday. Like having a swath of potential customers all in one place. It was safe and familiar, like a cage. His little business might be dangerous and criminal but at least it could afford him one thing he valued even more than ink or gear — freedom. Time, for another thing. Flexibility. It sure as hell beat making three dollars an hour flipping burgers or having to answer to some corporate boot-licker telling him what to do. Eddie huffed sharply, wondering what you would think if you knew. You, with your tightly buttoned blouses and endless patience. You, the very last person he wanted to disappoint. 

The last look he’d seen on you destroyed him when he thought about it; the pain in your eyes and bitter line your pretty lips became. You were just about the only reason he had left to show up to class anymore, and now that was getting in the way of the one thing that actually had potential in his eyes. Way more potential than a stupid piece of paper that says, congratulations, you’re a real member of society and not a complete disappointment. 

You had asked him a question back when you’d first made the arrangement to help him, one that rattled around in his brain ever since. Why did he want to graduate? If his memory served him, he’d given a relatively bullshit answer: to prove all the assholes in this god-forsaken purgatory wrong. It still held a fair amount of truth, but when he glanced up at the surveillance mirror again and saw himself this time, the real answer was abundantly clear. But was proving a point worth the risk of losing you?  

The smell of cardboard and cellophane kissed his face as air puffed between each record falling forward. Each a different picture, some repeats of the same. Rock gods wielding wicked weapons, bathed in holy stage lights somewhere in New York or Los Angeles probably. Somewhere important. Sometimes at the Hideout he would close his eyes and imagine he was on one of those stages, but when he would open them as the last note rung out, it was always the same — just Bill and Drunk Sam, maybe a couple of bikers perched at the bar with their backs to him. Empty stools and sticky tables. A weak applause.

Eddie stepped back from the record bin with a heavy sigh and glanced at his watch. He’d killed about thirty minutes in this store, which meant he had at least twenty more before he could return home without triggering Wayne’s suspicious questions. The walls were starting to close in around him — posters like windows into a world far out of reach. Every million dollar strum reverberating through the speakers like a mocking reminder. With a half-hearted wave to Jerry stocking shelves, he left the store. Empty handed. 

The drive down Randolph was always dismal, especially in the bleak winter light. Storefronts with yellowing signs that hadn’t changed in twenty years selling mattresses and televisions. A gas station with a rusted awning, dusted with snow. Architecturally speaking, the church was about the most interesting building, but only because it was brick and made up of more than just four flimsy walls. Even that was being generous though. The most exciting thing to happen to Hawkins since the housing development over by Factory Lane thirty years ago was the shopping mall that opened this past summer. Thrilling. 

No matter where he drove within a fifty mile radius, it was all the same — a tomb where dreams went to die. 

Gripping the steering wheel, he watched the car in front of him make grooves in the dirty slush, hypnotized by the spray off the sides of the tires. It wasn’t until he saw the high school approaching in his peripherals that he even looked up. It always felt good to be on the other side, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be. He could almost see you in there; brushing the chalk off your hands, shifting between your tired feet as you glanced at the clock, gazing out the window with a longing he’d seen in his own reflection — caught sometimes at night in his drivers seat window as he cruised the highway, dreaming of where it could take him. 

As the squat fortress faded in his rearview mirror, he pictured you five years from now. Ten. Twenty. Wasting away in front of that chalkboard. Rattling on about stories written by dead people while your own collected dust inside a closet. While your talent withered like the dead, crumpled leaves under the snow; buried and forgotten. 

With a hard right onto Prospect, he set out on the final stretch towards home. Sometimes he liked to imagine what might happen if he just kept going, just drove into the sunset and only stopped for gas. He had a vague idea from the movies and the maps that swayed in the wake of Ms. O’Donnell’s lumbering footsteps. Sometimes in the height of his boredom he would lose himself in them, imagine he was at a diner in the desert on his way to a gig with an actual sound system. Because somewhere out there—beyond the flat horizon—there were mountains, and canyons, and cities where names couldn’t follow. 

______

“How does it end?” Eddie asked you on Friday between the fourth and fifth period bells. You glanced up from the stack of papers on your desk, cocking your head with narrowing eyes. “Your story,” he clarified.

“Oh.” Blinking, you sat back to ponder. “You know, I don’t think I ever fully decided. Cybelle is in a difficult position. The whole reason she set out on this adventure was to save her brother. I imagine she would want to fulfill her quest, but if she returned to Myrne, it may be difficult to leave again. Plus, she may receive some sort of punishment for leaving in the first place. I had written the laws to be quite strict, if I recall. And then if she chose not to return, her mother would lose two children. No matter what, she loses.” 

Eddie furrowed his brow, shifting between his boots with a pained sigh. “I would hardly call a life with Lazarus losing. She seems happy with him.”

“Right, well, of course that would be ideal, but…” you tsked, “it’s complicated, and honestly that’s partially why I abandoned it. I really wrote myself into a corner. Well, that and student teaching started to eat up my time. Then it was finals, and moving, and then after that I met…” you trailed off with a bitter shake of your head. “Anyway, I guess life got in the way. It has a way of doing that, I’ve noticed.” 

Eddie looked at you, really looked. You, in your cable knit sweater with pen on your hand and sandbags under your eyes, casting them down over your work with the same amount of hope he’d seen from players rolling threes with even fewer hit points to spare. He racked his brain for something he could offer—a dramatic death speech or a new character sheet—but you weren’t playing and he wasn’t prepared. Any words of comfort forming on the tip of his tongue were swallowed by the ringing bell, and he exited your classroom feeling the same as when he entered; unsatisfied. 

______

It was starting to close in around you — the colored lights and ornaments, the mall Santas and fake green swags draping from shop windows. It was the first Christmas you’d truly spent in Hawkins since you graduated college, outside of day trips for visits. Surprisingly little had changed, the main thing being the fact that there even was a mall for Santa to post up in. Duplication must have been one of his many powers because he was still at Sears too, at least he was on Saturday when you dragged yourself out of the oppressive quiet of your apartment and into the bustling chaos. 

You had no idea what to get your relatives for Christmas. You never really did, but this year it seemed insurmountable. This year you had no one to bounce ideas off of, and the constant mental chatter left little to no room for inspiration. As you scanned the shelves of cookware and appliquéd dish towels with snow men and reindeers, nothing really seemed to jump out at you.

What did jump out at you—or rather, jumped out at his sister—was a little boy across the aisle hiding in a circular rack of women’s bath robes. Pressing apart the terrycloth like curtains, he would retreat into his makeshift cave to the complete oblivion of his mother, who seemed more preoccupied with the price tags on a set of lingerie than with the whereabouts of her children.

A fantasy tugged at the corners of your mind, more sinfully indulgent than the one you had in class last week involving your desk and Eddie’s tongue. This time the set was the same as the scene before you, only the little boy had a mess of dark curls and Eddie was diving in after him. Not to scold him, but to play. You could almost see those fraying knee holes widening from contact with the carpet. Almost hear the giggles and the shushes and the click of his rings against the metal pole in the center of the rack for balance. You could almost turn around and see them popping out at you, feel the laughter ripple up through your very full belly and into the corners of your eyes as you feigned surprise to both of their delight. You could almost feel the glares from the other shoppers, the regular people eager to get on with their Saturday in peace, same as any other. It wouldn’t matter though, not in your little world.

The real mother in the real world did eventually turn around, grabbing the boy by the wrist and demanding he stay by the cart. Turning a dish towel over in your palms, you lowered your eyes to the machine-embroidered stitching of a corn cob pipe and a button nose as the fantasy disintegrated. You left the store shortly after, your cart just as empty as when you’d arrived. 

On Monday it was hard to look him in the eyes. It was easier to meet Diane’s. At least this week you could hold a conversation without crumbling like Ms. Click’s half-eaten fruitcake up for grabs in the teachers lounge. But the coffee was bitter on your tongue, like a lie you were telling yourself. 

In accordance with your wishes, there had been no rap of knuckles on your door frame after school, no screeching of chair legs dragged across the tile, only the dull thud of folders sliding into your bag, the surprising click of a magnet under the flap. 

On Wednesday you left behind footprints in the parking lot before it had even half cleared, only to be swallowed by the emptiness of your apartment. You filled the space with what you could manage — an early dinner, and an early bedtime. Sleep seemed to be the only thing that quelled the battering ram thoughts, the scales tipping back and forth so much it made you queasy. You would lie there and dream of swirling smoke and plush lips, of arthritic fingers punching numbers on an office phone as you sat and accepted your fate. You would toss and turn, back and forth until your sheets became a tangle, and when you faced the mirror Thursday morning you barely recognized the person staring back. 

When the final bell rang on Friday, the hallways cleared out like someone had yelled fire. A mass exodus of students and staff, flowing into the parking lot like a tidal wave outside your classroom window. You watched them as snow fell in clumps, as bright colored backpacks disappeared into the back of sedans, as cars peeled out like a parade into the street. 

Assessing the paper mountain range framing your desk, you made an educated guess at how you would be spending your two week break. In hindsight, it might have helped to make the due date for the senior creative writing project last Friday instead, but deep down you knew you would have hardly made a dent by now. 

When Ms. Click popped her head in to wish you a merry Christmas on her way down the hall, she seemed surprised to find your hand still moving across paper, not swaddled in mittens like hers. You brushed it off with something casual, the type of thing any regular person would say before the holidays. That it was too much to take home. That getting work finished now would leave more time with your family. You omitted the more personal details like how empty your apartment felt and the small, naked tree your mother brought over last weekend. This seemed to placate her, and with a cheery wave she left you in the silence of your classroom with only the ruffling of paper for company.

It was eery how quiet it was, but it afforded you a small hill of graded papers in the last hour, double what you would typically accomplish in front of the television. Thumbing through what remained of that stack, you counted each staple. Five, six, seven… you stopped when a certain name jumped out in MLA format. 

Eddie Munson American Literature — 4th Period 20 December 1985

No title. 

Papers fluttered to the desk as they fell from your hands, leaving only his. You held it gingerly between your fingers, as if it was alive. As if it could feel you, or rather, you could feel him through every type-written letter, through the thumb-sized grease stain in the top righthand corner. You could almost hear him too, shifting into a deep, dramatic narration.

Mount Myrne loomed on the horizon like a dark omen. Towering over the bustling docks of Torgaard, it disappeared beneath the ominous clouds with a formidable presence. Merchants scattered about, hauling their wares in heavy crates and barrels onto the many zeppelins. 

This was where Lazarus first met Cybelle. In his mind’s eye he could almost see her stumbling about in her clean silk boots and glimmering gold coat. But her appearance today told a different tale. Her boots were caked with mud, her coat was splattered with muck and tattered by claws, her mask hung crooked on her face. Those large eyes that once glimmered with hope and wonder now stared off into the distance with oppressive sadness at the looming mountain. 

This was where he was supposed to leave her. This was what they had agreed upon many moons ago. Cybelle just stood there, shifting back and forth between her tired feet as she dug her thumbs under the straps of her heavy knapsack that now held the rare and precious ghostfern. She finally had what she came for. Any moment now she would be moving those muddy boots toward the docks and use what little coin she had to barter a one-way trip back home.

That was the plan anyway..

Cybelle was frozen though. Fearfully, woefully, bitterly, she gazed upon her gold gleaming home in the sky with a sadness that was only dwarfed by Lazarus looking down at her. He looked at her beautiful face like it was the last time he was ever going to get the chance to. He memorized it in his mind as he shuffled his own dirty boots against the cobblestone. He didn’t have eyes for anything else. Not the zeppelins, nor the merchants, nor the mountain. Only her. After a moment that felt like an eon, Cybelle took a step forward.

“Wait.” said Lazarus. Cybelle turned around with surprise but also a hint of relief. “You don’t have to do this.”

Cybelle looked up at him with a mournful frown. “Of course I do, my brother will die if I stay here.”

Lazarus shook his head bitterly. “No, he will die if the ghostfern stays here.” he said.

Cybelle sighed as she looked out across the docks, “But how is it going to get there if I do not deliver it? No one is allowed within the city walls if they are not from Myrne.”

Lazarus furrowed his brow as he watched the merchants at work, hauling their wares aboard the large, formidable aircrafts. Suddenly he had an idea. “There are docks in Myrne, correct? And Myrnish merchants who take goods into the city?”

The gears were starting to turn in Cybelle’s head. “Yes, there are.”

“Well then, can we send the plant with like, a note or something? Some instructions and directions for the merchant to take where it needs to go?”

Cybelle thought for a moment. “I do know a few of the merchants by name. Arturo and I grew up together. He was my neighbor for a long time. He would know where it needs to go, and my mother would know what to do with it.” The brightness in Cybelle’s eyes dimmed suddenly as she had another thought. “But… I would never seen them again. My family.”

“Never say never, Cybelle.” Lazarus said. “Do you know that for a fact?”

Cybelle frowned heavily, “The laws in Myrne are very strict.”

“What if in the letter you told your family to meet you on the docks some other time? Perhaps in another moon or two once your brother has recovered?” Lazarus offered.

Cybelle sighed bitterly, “Only merchants are allowed on the docks. It is strictly prohibited. I was only able to come here because I snuck inside a crate. It was a miracle that they didn’t notice me.”

Lazarus kicked a stray pebble and huffed. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I cannot tell you what to do, Cybelle. Only you can make that choice. But what I can do, really the only thing I can do, is tell you how I feel.” 

All of a sudden there was a knot in his stomach. Because if he was going to say anything he knew that this would be his last chance.. 

“All my life I’ve dreamed about that cottage by the sea with the garden, and the bed, and the omlet. When I saw that pendant you were wearing I knew that it would be my only shot at ever getting what I wanted. Magic tricks are….. not exactly lucrative. And actually, if I’m going to be totally honest here, I figure you should know the truth about me. The whole truth.” Lazarus sighed, swallowing the bile creeping up his throat at the mention of the truth. He was going to be honest though. Maybe for once in his whole life. “This is difficult for me to say, but I owe it to you if nothing else. I’m a thief, Cybelle.” 

Lazarus winced at his own words and Cybelle’s fallen expression, but he bravely continued..

“I confess that for a moment when I first saw you I thought about stealing that pendant, but once I heard your story and saw so much of my own I simply couldn’t. There is a goodness in you that I admire, how selfless and pure your cause is. Over the course of the last few moons I have had the privilege of spending with you, I have come to discover how beautiful the woman beneath the mask truly is. How kind, and curious, and patient you are. I have been all over this land. Traveled far and wide, through forests and over mountains. I have swam in lakes and oceans and gazed out over countless valleys. But never has the world looked quite so hopeful than when I saw it through your eyes. It made me believe that if you could see the beauty there, if you could see the goodness in me, then perhaps I can as well.”

It was startling — the tear that leapt over your lash line. Violently enough to hit the page, to blur the Os in goodness. 

“If you choose to stay I promise you that I will never steal another coin or pocket watch. It may leave me poor for the rest of my days but if they’re spent with you, then I would be the richest man of all. It is all that I can offer you. My honesty, and a promise that I will show you more beaches, more mountains, more of the world than you could ever imagine. And since I intend to keep my promise, here is my honesty: I love you. Regardless of what you decide.” 

With a trembling hand, you turned the page only to discover there was nothing on the back. Sitting back in your seat with a ragged sigh, you stared out into your empty classroom. Your nose stung, fluorescents flaring in your tear-blurred vision. Separating the pages with your thumb, you flipped back and read it again. The last paragraph. The last two sentences. Those three type-written words. Over and over, wedging in the cracks of your armor as your sniffles echoed off the tile. 

The sun was dipping below the treeline, flooding the near-empty parking lot with a wash of somber pink. The snowfall had ceased, settled into the footprints and tire tracks. Glancing up at the clock and back down at the papers, you tried to imagine lifting another, scanning over sentences and writing in the margins like you hadn’t been completely upended by the one that trembled in your grasp. You couldn’t. 

Tears dripped down your cheeks as you donned your coat, as you shuffled overstuffed folders into your satchel and slung its weight over your shoulder. You swiped at them with your scratchy wool sleeve, flicking off the lights and shutting the door.

The soft pink had cooled to twilight blue when your boots met the blanket of snow, leaving tracks in the clean, fresh powder. Your breath trailed behind you in heavy clouds. It was quiet here too, barely a scattering of cars in the parking lot. Not even the wind disturbed the limbs of the orderly saplings between the curb and sidewalk, dusted with a glittering powder. 

Your hands found your keys, and the key found the hole, and soon you were sliding into your frigid leather seat, tossing the weight of your satchel on the passenger’s side with a dejected thump. You sat there a moment with only your breath for company before flicking your wrist at the ignition. 

Nothing.

Stomping on the break, you lurched forward with conviction this time, as if you could convince it you were serious. All it awarded you was a weak, persistent click. It’s fine, you told yourself through gritted teeth as you lunged again, snapping your wrist with a startling anger, like the seal had been cracked on a two liter pop bottle that had rolled around in the trunk for a week and a half. Still, nothing but a pathetic click. A split second thought crossed your mind—that the ferocity of your stomp might actually damage the car—but the logic was quickly snuffed out by your rage. The hard plastic key bit into your numb fingers. Over and over — stomping, twisting, cursing. Cursing yourself most of all for being stupid enough to let this continue for months. You were paying for it now. 

The tears were already waiting, primed behind your eyeballs, hardly dried on your cheeks when you left out the back door. They spilled over again, cooling as they dripped past your lashes, down the slope of your nose. One more time, you begged. Just one more time and I’ll be good, I swear. But the white Chevy Nova sat unmoved, offering only a vacant whine where there should have been a roar. You tossed back in your seat and huffed, chest heaving, filling the cramped space with the furious steam of your breath. 

Snowflakes glittered in the floodlights, shining like flares through the blur of your tears. It might have been beautiful on any other evening — one where the engine was warm, and your mind was clear, and your heart didn’t sink like a pit in your chest. It was hard to notice anything outside your bitter sobs, most especially the shadow that appeared in the window beside you. The rap of rings on the glass had you jumping, whipping your head to face the set of eyes you’d been avoiding most of all. 

“Need some help?” Eddie offered, bracing his knees in a crouch, eyes brimming with concern. 

Your stomach twisted with relief, then embarrassment, then a million other things rolled into one, sick knot. Wiping the evidence from your cheeks with a futile swipe of your sleeve, you cranked down the window with your left hand. You must have looked like an absolute basket case, jerking your arm in tight circles as the barrier lowered with the urgency of a tortoise. When where was enough space for him, Eddie braced against the top of your door and ducked his head inside. 

“Hey.” The warm sigh of his greeting kissed your cheek, thawing the sting of the cold. 

“Hey,” you mimicked, sounding just about as stable as you felt when it came out. “W-what are you doing here so late?” 

“Hellfire,” he stated simply. “You know, I could ask you the same question.”

Despite how true it was, it still felt pathetic when the answer left your lips. “Just… trying not to take so much work home with me.” You said it as casually as you could muster, but your voice betrayed you. Your cheeks were still cooling from the remnants of your tears, framing the heat from your dripping nose. 

Eddie suddenly looked very serious, splintering your armor with his softness. “You ok?” 

You gestured dejectedly at nothing, offering a hollow laugh. “No.”

Eddie filled the cabin with his sigh, eyes narrowing like he wanted to lunge through the window. Instead he just thumbed at the rubber and tipped his head closer, creaking your chest plate with the weight of his gaze. “You know, I could hear you clear across the parking lot,” he joked softly. “The car—I mean. Mostly. You leave your lights on or something?”

You shook your head. “It’s been doing this for months, ever since it started getting cold. I should have taken it to get checked out, but it usually starts after a couple tries.” 

“Sounds like it might be the battery, or maybe the starter. I won’t know unless I try and jump it. I’ll swing around—if—if that’s ok.” 

The wind ushered a curl toward his lips, and you clenched your hand to subdue it. “Yeah, it’s ok,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

With a nod, Eddie ducked out of the window and pivoted swiftly on his heels. From your side view mirror, you watched him make tracks in the blue snow with his heavy boots, hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced left and right, the ghost of his breath trailing closely behind. The seat creaked as you sat back and blinked like the cursor on a computer monitor; processing. One glance in your rearview mirror told you how disheveled you looked. Even in the twilight there was no masking the puffiness around your eyes, the mascara bleeding toward your cheeks. You swiped at them again, this time with a napkin from your glove box.

With a yank of the frigid handle, Eddie slid across the plaid and pleather padding into the drivers seat of his van. He froze for a second, glancing in his rearview mirror toward your small white sedan. Butterflies tore through his stomach, churning like a tornado as he flicked the ignition. Out of all his ridiculous fantasies, he hadn’t entertained this one. Not exactly anyway. One where you were the damsel in distress. One where he got to be the hero. 

The parking lot was vacant enough to drive across the lines. Ploughing through the naked patches where cars had spent the afternoon, he rumbled up beside you. Your stomach did a summersault when he stepped out, plodding around to the front of your car with jumper cables slung under his arm. 

“Can you pop the hood for me?” he asked.

The summersault rippled south through your abdomen. Reaching down under the console, your fingers found the leaver and obeyed. You felt kind of useless, just sitting there while he propped the hood onto the stand, shielding him from vision. Before you could form another thought, your hand was moving on its own, finding the plastic leaver of your door and opening it to the cold evening air. 

Eddie gave a shy look from behind his curtain of curls before stepping back with a nod. “Well, good news, there’s no monsters,” he joked. 

A smile cracked across your face, so genuine it almost felt foreign. You tucked your hands into your pockets, stepping closer to assess the engine like you knew what you were looking at. Your aura prickled with proximity, like his heat could thaw you even from where you stood. Eddie’s glance was soft and quick before procuring a small flashlight from his inner coat pocket. He held it in his teeth, flipping up the red and black plastic covers on the battery terminals. 

“I have hands too, you know,” you said with a smirk.

With a playful side-eye, he clamped the appropriate cables onto the terminals. Removing the silver torch from his mouth, he made room for his retort. “Mmhm, best keep ‘em warm. It’s uh, kinda chilly out.”

You shook your head as a laugh escaped your nostrils in a plume. Sauntering over to his van like a dark knight, Eddie leaned in the door to pop his own hood. Your boots made tentative tracks in the snow, drawn like a magnet as he hoisted the metal. From the light pinched in his teeth you could see the expanse of the massive engine, the shadow of his furrowed brow as he unscrewed plastic knobs. What you saw more than anything though—like a filter laid over the scene—were three type-written letters. The hands that typed them fumbled with the cables, squeezed around the thick, jaw-like clamps. When they bit right where he wanted, they released; tendons flexing, knuckles pinking from the freezing air. Reflexively, he wiped them on the chest of his black hoodie peeking out from his open coat. 

It might have just been the cold, but even in the twilight—in the absence of the flashlight he was tucking into his pocket—you could have sworn his cheeks flushed when he caught you staring. “Alright, um, go ahead and start your car. I’ll do the same.”

Following the tether that joined the two vehicles, you did as he told you. Nothing came of it though, just more incessant clicking. Exasperated, you tossed back in your seat before slumping out of the car once more. 

“Shit, it must be the starter. Probably cracked, that’s my guess anyway by the sound of it,” Eddie explained as he stepped around to face your engine again. Clicking his flashlight, he peered into the compartment. “See, if you follow the positive terminal line all the way down, that’s where the starter will be. Only problem is it’s tricky to get to without a lift.” 

You followed his grease-stained finger down the dirt-dusted tangle of tubes, drawing nearer under the subtle guise of interest in your engine. You stopped just inches from his solid leather frame, close enough to brush him with your elbow. “You seem to know your way around a car.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he muttered. “Wish I didn’t.” But before you could comment, he was shutting the hood. “I’m sorry, but I think we’re gonna have to call a tow truck.” 

Your defeated sigh rose toward the clouds as you glanced at the squat school building. The lights were off. Judy’s car was absent from the lot, as were all but a handful, including the two of yours. Glancing at your watch under the floodlights, the big hand tipped past the golden dot where a five should be.

Eddie stepped closer, filling the gap with a heavy exhale before meeting your eyes. “You know I could, um—” he scratched the back of his neck, words evaporating quicker than his breath. What could he do? What could he really do about any of this? For most of his life he’d been a leaf on the wind, scuttling across the pavement toward the gutter, struggling to steer himself away. But you were stranded, and if there was anything he was good for, it was a ride. “I could—I could take you back to your place. If you’re ok with that, I mean. We could—fuck—I mean you could call from there a-and I could—”

There were chinks in your armor, cracking with each bumbling word. You looked at him, really looked. Eddie Munson, with grease-stained hands and eyes that pierced like arrows in their pleading. Straight through to the softest part of you, the place between your ribs that cries I want. And oh, how desperately you wanted. Wanted to soothe his worried lips in yours again, to feel his pounding chest again, to be thawed by his heat again. But you just stood there, frozen.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his open coat, he shifted on the balls of his feet as he searched for more words in the snow. “Look, I know you said you wanted space, a-and it probably seems like—shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing with a sharp sigh. “I just want to help you. Will you just let me help you? Please?”

Your chest plate clattered to the concrete, gauntlets falling in a heap beside your greaves. There was no white flag to wave. No sword to relinquish, or shield to discard. Your surrender was nothing but a soft “okay,” barely heard above the howling wind. 

______

A/N: After over a year and 100k words, the smut chapter is finally upon us! Thank you for coming with me on this very long journey and sticking it out. I have no idea how long this next one is going to take me to write, but I can promise you that when it’s finished you will experience every moment in exquisite, delicious, poetic detail. 

You might have noticed that I’ve pulled a few small details like character names and places from Flight of Icarus, but I will not be retconning any of Eddie’s backstory. 

Also random, tumblr decided to make that one paragraph bold once I changed it to chat font with no ability to unbold it, but that wasn't intended. It kind of worked though so I'm not mad.

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @raccoonboywrites @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @keeponquinning @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

[freedomfireflies]

Hurt Me*

Summary: The third part to Teach Me*

You and Harry have struck a deal. You'll help him explore some of his favorite kinks and in return, he'll practice each one on you.

A rather...bloody sweet deal, if you do say so yourself.

Word Count: 5.5k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you can handle!*

“So…should we start with pegging?”

You blink at him from the hallway. “I…I just walked through the door.”

He laughs, leaning back on his mattress, hands first. “Sorry. Thought we’d just jump right into it.”

“I can see that,” you snort as you walk further into his bedroom. “Did you get the stuff?”

His head jerks toward his nightstand where you find the aforementioned items you’d requested he gather.

And seeing the giant bottle of lube beside his bed is somehow both exhilarating…and startling.

You haven’t changed your mind about the agreement. You’d thought maybe you might, after the heated moment at the restaurant had passed. 

But now, here you are, two days later. Still just as eager as you’d been the other night.

And you’re pleased to see that Harry apparently is, too.

He waits patiently for you to slip off your shoes and make your way for him, his eyes following each move you make.

You aren’t sure why you feel so…nervous. None of this is really all that new to you, but Harry has always had this talent for putting you on edge.

Even when he doesn’t mean to.

Like now.

“Okay,” you declare once you’ve reached him, and his eyebrow raises. “I have a list.”

The side of his mouth curls up. “A list?”

“A list,” you repeat with a determined nod. “A checklist. Of things we might wanna try.”

He chuckles as you reach into your back pocket to retrieve your small notepad. “Of course you have a fucking list.”

“Shush.” You flip it open and clear your throat. “All right. There’s edging, overstimulation, bondage, spanking, breath play, thigh riding, blood kinks—oh, and knife kinks. Also pegging, of course, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he interjects, smirking as he sits up. “I’m sorry…do you mean to tell me that you, the girl who cried when she got a papercut…have a knife kink?”

You give him a cool stare. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

His tongue swipes across his lip as he studies you. “Interesting.”

“…why?”

He shrugs, glancing around the bedroom to hide his amusement. “Nothing. Just…learning some things about you.”

Your eyes narrow. “Well, this isn’t about me, is it? This is about you and what you might like.”

He looks back, fingers tapping against the mattress in thought. “Well…I guess there’s only one way to find out, now, isn’t there?”

With a coy smile, you nod again. “I guess so.”

For a moment, you simply stare at each other. Him sitting below you on the bed and you standing in front of his legs, waiting.

You imagine it’s up to you to get the ball rolling, but despite your eager anticipation, you can’t help wondering what happens if this ruins your friendship with him.

That’s that last thing you could ever want. And sure, he seems more than willing to take this step with you.

But what if he regrets it?

What if he regrets you?

“Bee,” he murmurs, and you refocus your attention in time to see his large hands coming out to latch onto your hips and guide you between his parting thighs. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

He reaches up to tap his finger against the side of your temple. “Overthink.”

Your expression falls flat as you playfully roll your eyes and duck away from his hand. “I’m not, I’m just…planning.”

“Okay, then walk me through your plan,” he instructs. “Out loud. Tell me what you wanna do.”

You glance down at the notepad in your hand, running through each suggestion. “Uh…I don’t know. I’m not sure where to start. I don’t wanna just…jump into something heavy before you’re ready.”

“I am ready,” he insists, palms wrapping around the backs of your legs. “Whatever you wanna do, however you wanna do it. Promise.”

And you appreciate his eager anticipation, but you can’t rush something like this. Because you'd never forgive yourself for introducing him to something he wasn’t prepared to handle. Or for hurting him or scaring him.

You sigh as you look down at the hopeful glimmer in his eye. “We need to start slow, Har. Like I said. Okay, we’ll get there, we just…we need to ease into it.”

He smiles. “Then ease me. Start slow, start fast. I don’t fucking care, just start.”

And you can’t help but laugh as you toss the notebook aside to give him your full attention. “Fine. Let’s go over some rules.”

His response is to groan dramatically and flop down onto his back, lids squeezed shut.

“Come on,” you insist, reaching out to tug on his shirt and attempt to wrangle him back upright. “Harry—”

“You’re killing me, Bee,” he huffs as he lets you pull on him. “I don’t need rules, I just need you—”

“Shush,” you say for a second time once he’s straightened up, and his eyes roll. “Okay, first things first…we need an official safe word. A system, kind of. To make sure everything goes smoothly, and we feel okay.”

You can tell he wants to argue, but even he knows that this is important. So, he nods once. “Okay. You pick.”

You momentarily gnaw on the inside of your cheek. “Okay, how about…I don’t know. Watermelon? Lot of people pick a fruit, I don’t know why.”

His brow raises. “Fine. Watermelon. Can we start now?”

This time, you groan. “Harry, stop. This is serious. I need to make sure you’re gonna be okay.”

“I will be,” he mumbles, hands outstretching for your thighs once again, squeezing them as if to accentuate his point. “I will be if it’s with you. I promise, Bee. But you’re killing me here. Been thinking about this for two fucking days. M’bout to explode.”

“Really? The blue ball argument? That’s what you’re going with?” you tease as he smirks.

“No. Don’t have blue balls. Was fucking my fist the second I got home from the restaurant,” he tells you, and for some reason, the image makes your skin heat up. “It’s the idea of you that kills me. Can’t fucking stand it, so just…end my suffering. Please.”

You hesitate, teeth pulling on the flesh of your bottom lip. He’s too fucking good at this. “You have to promise that you’ll say watermelon whenever you need to stop or talk or slow down. Okay?”

His response is to lift a hand between your bodies and thrust his pinky toward you. “Promise.”

You wrap yours around his and squeeze. “Good…and I mean it, Har. The second you feel uncomfortable—”

“Yes, yes, I got it, I promise,” he interrupts, a slight edge to his tone.

Your expression falls flat but even you feel a little impatient. “Fine, well…tell me how you wanna start. Tell me what you wanna try. Or what you need me to explain.”

He turns to look toward the pad of paper now tossed askew across the floor. “You had thigh riding on there, right?”

You nod, heart beating a little faster. 

He looks back. “…do you wanna ride my thigh, Bee?” he whispers, focus dropping to your throat when he notices you swallow. 

Truthfully, you wanna do everything with him. There’s nothing on that list you’d shy away from, and just imagining his face alongside some of your darkest fantasies—

Your breath hitches.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, thumbs stroking across the skin of your legs as if to coax the answer out of you. “Come on. Know I need to hear you say it.”

And you appreciate this desire for verbal consent. It’s something you know you’ll need from him, too. But this…habit of his to make you all flustered is so infuriatingly…him that it drives you nuts.

“I wanna do…whatever you want me to do,” you tell him honestly, palms cupping his cheeks as you guide his head back. “Wanna do everything. All of it. You. Me. Us.”

And he smiles almost drunkenly at the callback, undone by your touch as your fingers slip through the curls atop his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You dip down, nose brushing his. “Just tell me what to do…and I’ll do it.”

You saw a glimpse of his need for control the other night. Even saw it that day in your bedroom. 

Now? Now you’re putting that control in his hands, just to see if he knows what to do with it.

He might need a little help from time to time, but you have a feeling he’ll be able to handle having this sort of power over you.

And you can’t fucking wait.

The grip he has on your legs grows tighter as he whispers, “Ride my thigh.”

You smile, lips gently ghosting over his.

“Ride my fucking thigh, Bee,” he repeats, even more lasciviously than he had before. “Right now. Can’t wait another goddamn minute.”

Then, before you can even reply, he’s tugging on you until you both go toppling down onto the mattress.

You laugh but he doesn’t. He’s too far gone to think about anything else but you and what you’ve promised him.

You feel his palm slip around the back of your neck as he quickly guides your mouth to his. 

And you can’t help the way your heart lurches at the taste of him. It’s only been two days yet somehow…you don’t think you’ve been able to breathe until right now. With his kiss.

The room echoes with pants and eager whines as you settle onto your knees, one on either side of his hips. 

And you kind of like being on top of him like this, getting to look down and see him all laid out for you.

You’d both agreed to hold off on actually fucking each other until Harry felt more comfortable. He’d tried to argue he was already more than comfortable, but fucking your best friend crosses a completely different line.

And you aren’t sure you’re ready yet.

But this…you could do this forever. Kiss him, and touch him, and grind on him as he groans.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you squirm over his waist, desperate for a little friction.

And the sound he makes—pure, unadulterated desire—nearly has you coming right then and there.

“Okay,” you breathe, leaning back to see him. “Okay, I gotta…gotta take my shorts off—”

“Yes,” he nearly sighs, seemingly turned on by the very idea. “Yes, take them off. Please, for the love of God, take off your shorts.”

You smirk as you climb off his lap to undo the button, and as you do, he pushes up onto his elbows to watch.

And he watches. In that relentlessly focused way that almost makes you go shy. Soft, green eyes somehow sharp as they rake over every inch of your body. Watching your fingers pull the zipper down before the fabric drops to the floor and pools at your ankles.

Once yours are off, it’s time for his. He doesn’t ask for your help, instead quickly standing to rid himself of his own jeans until only his boxers are left.

He then crawls back toward the headboard, large hands motioning for you to follow as you take a deep breath and oblige.

He pats his left thigh, palm smacking against the tattooed tiger ink on his skin. “This one, right here. Come on.”

And you have to smile at the rather lewd idea.

Again, his attention never leaves you as you swing yourself back onto his lap, a knee on either side of his stretched leg.

Your underwear is still on, a choice made only out of hesitation on what he’d prefer. And you suppose you’re long past that, but you don’t want to assume. 

He eyes the covering over your cunt as if mesmerized, and you go still a few inches above him, unsure whether or not to lower yourself just yet.

His hands levitate toward your waist, magnetized to your body. Then, he glances up. “Can I…fuck, wanna feel you, Bee.”

You nod quickly, lip between your teeth as he trails those nimble fingers across your skin and toward the band on your hips. 

Then…they slip inside.

He’s felt you before. This isn’t new nor is it foreign.

But it’s everything.

A whimper rips from your throat the moment he glides through, a motion made exceedingly easier by the collection of arousal already waiting for him.

His jaw drops ever-so-slightly, as if overcome with lust while his head falls back against the wall.

When he drags his touch back up to your clit, you grasp onto his shoulders, throat going dry. 

“There it is,” he murmurs, awestruck. “So fucking good, Bee…s’fucking heaven. You know that? Have to fucking know…could touch you forever.”

And you don’t doubt he means it as he continues to tease you, spreading you open just so before traveling down to dip the tip of his finger inside.

Your forehead finds his as you fist the material of his shirt to brace yourself. “Harry…”

“What?” His other hand slides beneath your underwear to squeeze your ass and help roll you against his fingers. “What? Say it.”

But you can’t speak. He’s not even doing anything, just…touching you to touch you and it feels like everything you’ve ever been missing.

God damn him for being this good on his third try.

His lips move for your neck, teeth zealously grazing a vein just below your ear. And you keen, nails scratching down his chest and strong arms as you work to memorize the feel of his body.

He’s so…beautiful. He’s always been cute. You knew this, but now…now you’re forced to see him and his body in a different light.

He’s strong, and sturdy, and so fucking sexy. If he asked you to spend the evening just…licking up every inch of his skin…you just might.

And you’d be okay with that.

Once a second finger is added, you just about lose it. Clenching around him pitifully as the sounds below you nearly drive you mad.

He takes a deep breath against your collarbone, groaning in the back of his throat at the feel. “Shit, Bee…what are you doing to me?”

You imagine this is more of a rhetorical question, and you wouldn’t be able to answer even if it weren’t.

Suddenly, you whimper, and instantly his touch curls, as if subconsciously affected by the sound.

Then…he pulls out, and you practically wilt as you bury yourself in his arms and try to breathe.

His chest vibrates with a chuckle as his palm smooths up from your ass to your spine, stroking soothingly. “Sorry, just can’t wait any longer.”

And despite the now empty feeling, you nod your understanding and lean back to help him slip your underwear off.

After a bit of struggle, and a few shared laughs, you readjust back onto your knees to settle over his leg.

Again, his eyes glue to the sight before him, watching with near amazement as you lower yourself down. 

The second the contact is made, you both turn into incoherent puddles of obsession. It’s like medicine. The way you coat his skin, grinding against it with ease as his fingers now dig into your hips to help guide you.

His jaw goes slack while slumps against the headboard, overcome with longing at the feel. “Fucking shit—”

“Har,” you whisper, nails now in his hair, scratching down his scalp as he groans again.

He nods his chin at you, focus sluggish. “Go on, it’s okay. Keep going, m’right here.”

And you do. You roll your cunt over his thigh repeatedly, desperate for the stimulation. And it’s nothing compared to his fingers, or even your own, but you love it, nonetheless. Love the way he feels beneath you. Love the way his tattoo glistens, illuminated by the soft light of the lamp.

You love…

Your head shakes, clearing the thought before it can form as you return your attention to his face.

He looks so happy. So unbelievably thrilled with what you’re doing to him, and your heart soars.

Most of the men you’ve been with only think about what you can do for them. What giving you pleasure will do to them. What they deserve from you. 

And sure, Harry has been a selfish, narcissistic ass for the entirety of your friendship.

But not now. Not here.

No, here…it’s about you. It’s about the other person. Hell, this whole thing started because he wanted to make sure he was good enough for Tina. That he could provide her with everything she deserved. It wasn’t about what she was going to give him in return.

Just like it’s not about the intricate and kinky ways you plan to get him off. He wants to learn what gets you off. Wants to learn what makes you tick.

So watching you soak his thigh as you use him to come is what he really wants.

Your lips roll into your mouth, an attempt at swallowing the rush of adoration for him.

However, he notices. Because of course he notices, and immediately, he reaches up to press his fingers into your cheeks and pop your lips free.

“Don’t,” he warns, frowning a bit as he studies you. “Don’t do that, it scares me.”

Your brows pull together as you work in a deep breath. “Wh…what? Why?”

“’Cause I don’t know what it means,” he says. “I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong, or if you don’t like it, or if you want to stop.”

You almost smile at the way he’s beginning to understand why you were so apprehensive before. Because communication is key, and your chest gets tight at the sound of unease in his voice.

You tug on his curls, head shaking quickly. “I don’t want to stop, Har…god, I don’t wanna stop. Promise, s’just…feels so good.”

His pupils double in size as he looks up at you. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, nose nuzzling his once again.

He smiles softly, lashes falling shut as he drinks you in. “Good. But don’t do that. If you wanna be loud, then be loud.”

“Okay,” you murmur, kissing the side of his jaw. “Okay, I promise.”

The grip on your hips constricts as he kneads on the flesh to convey his appreciation. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitches.

And when he notices, something flashes behind his eyes. Something…primal.

“What else…was on the list?” he asks, voice heavy and thick. “What else, Bee?”

“I don’t know,” you nearly whine, face nuzzling into his neck. And it’s true. You don’t have the mental capacity right now to remember a goddamn thing outside of him.

Which you aren’t exactly upset about.

He smiles again, his cheek brushing your forehead as his fingers suddenly appear around the back of your neck to pull you out of hiding. “Want you to do something for me.”

Now you do whine, rather impatiently as your thrusts against his leg are forced to slow. 

He glances over toward his nightstand. “Open it and grab the red thing.”

You huff at a stray hair that’s fallen across your face before leaning over to slide the drawer open.

After peering inside, you find the aforementioned object, and pluck it free. Then, once you’ve settled back down over his thigh, you hand it to him.

But he doesn’t take it. He simply nods his chin at you with a coy smirk. “Open it.”

Curious, you do as told, studying it carefully as you attempt to figure out just what it is…before you realize.

It’s a pocketknife. 

You can feel your lips part and your eyebrows raise as you flick the blade free. It shimmers against the light, taunting you with its power as Harry watches you.

“S’not, you know…a steak knife, but…” He runs his tongue over his lip in anticipation. “Will it…I mean, does it work for you?”

Normally, you’d tease him for something like this, but now…

You clench around nothing as a rush of adrenaline washes over you.

And Harry can tell, because he tenses when he feels the way you drip down his leg, his teeth gritting with possessive infatuation. 

“So…yes,” he decides, still smug as he returns his hands to your hips.

You look at him, heart racing beneath your chest. “Har, we don’t…this isn’t everyone’s thing, I don’t wanna push you—”

“Uh-uh,” he quickly scolds, shaking you once. “We made a deal, yeah? If I didn’t think I could handle it, I would tell you. That’s what we’re doing this for, remember? To try. To see.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Have I said watermelon?”

The stern but rather good point makes your jaw clamp shut. “No.”

“No,” he agrees, cradling the back of your neck once again to bring you closer. “So, take that knife…and do whatever…you wanna do with it.”

He kisses you again, hoping to ease whatever doubt you might have, and you want to thank him. Want to wrap your arms around his neck and just…stay there.

He nips at your bottom lip, at your tongue, at your cheek. Distracted by your taste.

So distracted, that he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’ve brought the blade closer to his jaw.

But when the cool edge slides along his skin, he stills, and you feel the hitch in his breath.

You start slow. Gentle. Tentative of his reaction as you pull back to study him.

He doesn’t…seem uncomfortable. Or nervous or panicked. Granted, you haven’t even touched him with the sharp side of the blade yet, but he knows it’s coming.

However, his attention remains on you. Watching you with the same focused determination that you’re watching him. 

He wants to see what this does to you.

“Are you sure?” you hear yourself whisper, more timidly than you’d meant.

He nods. So subtle, you almost miss it. “Yes. I trust you.”

I trust you.

There’s a ripple in your chest where your heart lies, and you swallow.

Then…you rotate the knife, and let the cutting edge move across his cheek. 

You hardly apply any pressure, a bit too nervous to actually hurt him. But even the sight of the silver metal dancing across his face makes your stomach flutter.

You squirm a bit harder against his thigh before moving the tip of the blade down, watching as it travels across the equally sharp curve of his jaw.

He sucks in a quiet, strained breath, his body rising and falling ever-so-slightly as his eyes flick across your face. “Are you okay?”

It’s your turn to nod, which you do, mutely.

“Bee, come on.” It’s almost a warning, but you don’t look at him. You look at the knife in your hand. You look at the way it slips under his chin. Look at the way goosebumps form in the wake. “Need to hear you say you’re okay.”

“M’okay,” you murmur, still mesmerized. “Just don’t wanna hurt you.”

His fingers instantly press harder into your hips. “Hurt me,” he says, so sincerely that it just about catches you off guard. “Hurt me. It’s okay. I promise. I fucking promise, Bee. Don’t care, just want you to do it. Want you to do whatever you want. Please.”

And now he’s begging you to cause him pain, and while this speaks volumes to his masochistic tendencies, you can’t help but feel pleased.

So, you use the position of the knife under his chin to tilt his head up.

His eyes widen but you can see the desire swimming behind the hopeful expression.

“Are you sure?” you ask again, this time with a more devious undertone. “You sure you want me to hurt you, pretty boy?”

He’d likely laugh at the nickname if it were any other moment. It’s something you used to call him back in high school, and now…now it seems to have found its place once again.

After all, he is pretty. Especially right now, with a blade teasing his skin. 

“Yes,” he whispers, and you clench yet again around nothing.

And the need in your stomach has grown as you slowly roll your hips over his leg, now drenched with you.

And this slow, torturous pace that you’ve set so as to not hurt him is biting you in the ass now. Because it’s going to kill you. 

And it’s going to kill him, too, if the growing erection in his boxers is any indication.

But not once has he suggested you help him out. Something that almost disappoints you, seeing as one of your favorite pastimes is turning your partner on. Making them feel good. Watching the way they fall apart.

A trait he seems to share. 

It makes you smile to see so many similarities, so many kinks in him that mirror your own. Further proof that you made a rather good choice in a best friend.

When the pressure begins to pick up, and the urge to throw caution to the wind and grind against his thigh until you’re screaming overwhelms you, you make a decision.

You toss the knife to the floor, wrap your arms around his neck, and just take.

You suck on his tongue as he groans, his palms sliding down your back before they’re disappearing beneath the hem of your tank top.

Then, he slips around the front to collect your tits in his hands, pushing them together before running his thumb over the nipple just to feel you shudder.

Everything else is disregarded as he works to get you off. To feel you come against his thigh.

And he’s so warm. So feverishly hot that it makes your fingers shake as you trail them down his chest just to mimic him by slipping them under his shirt.

His stomach. You whimper against his mouth at the feel of his abs. The way they bend, and dip, and ripple as he works in desperate breaths. As he snakes an arm around your hip to drag you a bit harder over his leg. As he braces himself from the pleasure.

Struck with new inspiration, you reach for his wrist, tugging it out from beneath your tank top to bring it up to your throat.

Cautiously, you guide his fingers to the sides of your neck, pushing them into your skin just hard enough that he’ll get the hint.

And for a moment, he stills, seemingly unsure of whether or not he’s ready to have this kind of control over you.

But then, he gets a better grip. Touch constricting around your airway until each potential breath dissipates from your lungs and small, floating stars dance behind your eyes.

You give him just a moment to decide if he likes it or not.

And then…everything changes.

So fast, and so sudden, you hardly have time to process.

He growls into the kiss before he’s lifting you off his lap, tossing you onto the other side of the mattress, and placing himself above you.

His hand instantly returns to your throat, making a home on your neck as he squeezes. 

And you gasp, back arching off the bed as he dips down to kiss you again.

But not just kiss you.

Take you.

He tugs on the pink fibers of your bottom lip with fervor. Angry enough that you can’t help the whimper that slips from your mouth into his.

And he feeds off it. Presses his bent knee back into your cunt just to tease you, forcing more pleasure to roll over each nerve ending.

A moment later, you taste the metallic, tangy flavor of blood as it drips back into your mouth and down your throat.

He’s made you bleed.

Yet another kink to check off the list, and you squirm against his leg once more as he eagerly sucks the droplets into his mouth.

His lashes flutter, and your heart just about jumps out of your chest.

Breathing harder than you ever have, you watch with awe as he finally uncurls his fingers from your airway to lean back and see you. Study you. 

Then, his thumb finds your lip. He swipes it through the blood collecting around your mouth, eyes wide and filled with need. 

He pushes it into your mouth, albeit gently, with the unspoken request that you suck.

So…you do.

You suck the ever-loving shit out of his finger as your pussy practically vibrates against his knee, forcing him to inhale in a sharp breath of his own. 

He’s happy.

So goddamn proud that you don’t quite know what to do with yourself except keep making him happy.

A second later, he’s dragging his thumb back out just to trail it down your chin. Blood and spit staining your skin exactly the way you love.

Exactly the way he loves.

“Shit,” he mumbles, his other hand smoothing down the side of your ribcage. “Shit, Bee…look at you.”

You say nothing. Can say nothing. Because he is everything, and you aren’t even here anymore. You’re merciless to his intentions. Desperate for each touch, hanging off each word, each thought.

He pushes your top up until it collects just above your chest, thumb returning to your sternum to paint a picture of his obsession. 

He drags it between your tits before moving it over to your nipples, smearing the blood over the peak as it hardens.

Then, his eyes meet yours…and he lowers.

His lips wrap around you, licking at the ruby marks over your breast before pulling you into his mouth.

And it’s game over.

It’s sadistic, and cruel, and absolutely perfect. Everything about this—about him—is perfect.

His leg against your cunt, his mouth on your body, his curls tangling in your fingers. 

Everything.

Him.

You.

All of it.

Your head rolls back against the mattress, your focus finding the ceiling as you will yourself not to scream.

But you do moan, rather lasciviously, and the sound of it has Harry’s nails pulling at your skin.

And you’re rather excited about the marks you might find tomorrow.

“Fucking killing me, Bee,” he grunts, popping off your tit to nose under your jaw. “M’so goddamn lost on you. Do anything for you…anything.”

Anything.

“Everything,” he adds, squeezing your hip. “Shit…don’t think I can do much more. Might actually kill me.”

And you know what he means. Know exactly the kind of pain mixing deep within his belly at the lack of release.

And suddenly…you’re struck with inspiration. Possessed by an idea you know you’ll come to regret tomorrow.

But you really don’t fucking care.

You grasp onto his face, palms melding with his cheeks as you force his eyes on you. “Harry?”

He seems to steel himself at the sound of his name, the muscles in his shoulders tensing as he presses his knee further into you.

You squirm once more, arching a bit higher as you pout at the unfairness. “Thought of…something else…we could try.”

His brow raises. “Yeah?”

You nod, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I want you…to fuck me.”

He’s torn between two reactions. Surprise and acceptance. 

You can feel just how much he enjoys the idea by how firm his grip on your body becomes. How pointed, how ravenous.

But you both agreed there was no going back after something like that. And you can see the way he considers your proposal.

And you know him. You know he’s asking himself if this is really what you want. If you’re in your right mind. Aware enough to even suggest such a thing.

He’s asking himself if you’ll regret him.

And you want to assure him that you could never…but you can’t. That’s not something you can promise. All you can do is hope he does it anyway.

You sit up just enough to nuzzle your nose against his, exactly the way he had before. “Please, Harry…please…need you. Need to feel you, gotta feel you, Har…hurts so bad—”

He makes another animalistic noise in the back of his throat as he presses his forehead to yours. “Bee—”

“Gimme everything, Har, please,” you continue rather insistently. “Be so good for you. Promise. Just need it. Need you…can’t…can’t fucking take it, Harry—”

“Fuck,” he just about groans, lowering his hips until they can grind against yours. 

And the feel of his cock, so close yet so far…nearly does it.

You mewl at the contact, the sound pathetically desperate, but it seems to be the only thing to tip the dominos.

And every fear, every hesitation, every warning is instantly shoved aside as he kisses you once again. “Promise me we won’t change.”

He rolls himself over your cunt a second time, just before you can answer, and you whimper once more as your nails scratch down his shirt. “Har—"

“Fucking promise me,” he repeats, nearly hissing the instruction at you. “If I do this—if we do this—you have to fucking promise me, Bee. Can’t fucking lose you. Can’t do this and then lose you, I can’t—”

“I promise,” you whisper quickly. “I promise, Har, just…please.”

And that’s all he needed to hear, a smile breaking free across his face as the last domino finally falls.

“Good…cause we’ve still got quite a bit of list to go.”

DON'T YELL AT ME, THERE'S ANOTHER PART COMING, I SWEAR!!!

Next Part:

~ Feel Me* (Pt. 4)

Previous Part:

~ Show Me* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags:

@onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @indierockgirrl @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs

[waitimcomingtoo]

Come Morning Light

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: you and Peeta spend a lazy day together, baking bread and drawing. takes place after first games before cf

After learning from Effie that you had a rare day off, you made your way over to Peeta’s house in the Victors Village. Things had been weird between you since returning from the games and you wanted a chance to spend some time with him to settle things. You knocked on his door and when you found it open, you made your way inside.

“Oh. Hey.” He smiled when you found him in his kitchen.

“Hey. Did I hear correctly that we actually have the day off?”

“We do. And Effie made it very clear we’re not getting another one anytime soon. So we better enjoy it.”

“How are you gonna spend it?” You asked as you leaned against his kitchen table.

“I’m just gonna bake some bread and watch the rain. All boring stuff.” Peeta said with a soft smile. Peeta thought you would leave after that, but you didn’t budge.

“Why? What were you gonna do?” He asked curiously.

“Bother you.” You shrugged with a coy smile. Peeta returned the smile when he realized you wanted to hang out but didn’t know how to ask.

“Impossible. You never bother me.” He declared.

“Never? Even after all the times I’ve woken you up screaming?”

“No. Because when I hear screaming, I know that means I get to hold you. So no, you’re never a bother.” Peeta said as if it were the most simple thing in the world. You looked down to hide the smile that he always managed to put on your face. He could never know how much you missed that reassurance that he would always be there for you when you had your nightmares.

“You know, Haymitch once told me I could live a thousand lives and never deserve you.” You told him.

“Oh, did he?” Peeta smirked and folded his arms.

“I think it may have been one of the rare times he was right about something.” You said playfully. Peeta felt ecstatic to hear you say this, but played it cool.

“Well. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” He replied. You smiled at him before going over to where he had his baking supplies set up.

“So what kind of bread are we making today?” You asked as you picked up his apron. He playfully snatched it from you and tied it around it waist. You pretended to be offended for a second, but he was quick to provide you with a matching apron. You didn’t know why he had two if he lived alone, but you didn’t question it. You just held out hope that maybe it was for you.

“I’m making challah bread. You can just sit there and look pretty.” Peeta nodded towards his kitchen table as he tied your apron around your waist.

“Peeta, I won the Hunger Games with nothing but a bow and some berries. What makes you think I can’t make bread?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know you can’t make bread.” He insisted. “And I know that because before you win the game, you fed me disgusting soup.”

“You said you liked my cave soup.” You gasped.

“I was trying to spare your feelings.” He said with a cheeky smile. You pretended to be offended again and threw some flour at his face.

“Wow, Peeta. Next time you get injured, don’t come to me for help.”

“Well I definitely won’t come to you for food.” He said out of the corner of his mouth. You gasped and tried to throw more flour at him but he caught your wrist and spun you around. You smiled at the gesture before playfully shoving him away.

“Please let me help. I’ll do better then the cave soup. I promise.”

“Fine. You can mix this.” Peeta said as he poured two cups of something into a mixing bowl and handed it to you. You smiled proudly and mixed the contents of the bowl with a wooden spatula.

“Is this important? Am I being helpful?” You asked as you mixed.

“No. That was just two cups of flour. You didn’t actually mix anything.” Peeta admitted. You looked up at him in surprise and he was armed and ready with a handful of flour. He tossed it at your face and laughed as you coughed.

“Peeta. Let me help.” You whined as you cleaned your face.

“Just leave the baking to the baker, all right? I don’t show up in the woods and try to hunt.” He teased as he folded some eggs into his dough.

You watched him expertly mix the dough until a light and fluffy consistency was left in the bowl. You couldn’t help but admire the way he worked, moving as if with muscle memory. To get a better look, you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder. Peeta stiffened for a moment, then relaxed into you.

“There’s no cameras in here, you know. You don’t have to pretend.” He said quietly. You were surprised by this comment and pressed your cheek against his shoulder.

“I’m not pretending anything.” You told him. “I just wanted to hold you.”

“So you’re not acting? You really want to help me bake bread?” Peeta asked skeptically as he turned around in your arms. You toyed with the strings of his apron for a second before looking up into his eyes.

“I really do.” You answered honestly. “We never get to do anything normal together. I just wanted one day where we can just be us.”

Peeta stared into your eyes for a while as he tried to decide whether he should believe you or not. He so badly wanted to, but could never fully let his guard down around you after you revealed the way you acted in the first games was partially an act.

“Okay. Come here. We have to knead the bread.” Peeta said once he decided he was satisfied with your answer. He pulled you by the hand and placed you in front of him before wrapping both arms around you.

“Oh no.” You chuckled dryly, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Oh yes. I’m a romantic. This is how we teach.” Peeta said as he put his hands over yours and began to knead the bread. You had seen this scene play out in old romantic movies that sometimes played on your TV and you knew Peeta must’ve seen them too. It was stupid, but it made you feel good inside.

“Do you teach everyone to knead bread like this?” You looked over your shoulder to question him.

“I don’t exactly go around teaching people how to make bread.” Peeta chuckled.

“Oh. I must be special then.” You smiled coyly and made eye contact with him over your shoulder. He was so close that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck and it sent tingles down your spine.

“Must be.” Peeta mumbled in your ear. You gulped and felt your face heat up, feeling grateful Peeta was behind you so he couldn’t see what he was doing to you. He continued to use his strong hands to make yours knead the bread.

“I hate the way this feels.” You said to break the silence.

“Then you’re gonna hate to hear that we have to do this for at least ten minutes.” Peeta laughed as you groaned.

“Peeta.” You whined but didn’t try to stop.

“You’re the one who wanted to stay and make bread. You could’ve run off into the forest to hunt with Gale, but you chose to spend your day off with me.” He reminded you.

“You’re right. I did.” You agreed with him as you squished the bread between your fingers.

“Where is Gale, anyway?” Peeta asked, and you could tell his intentions no matter how cool he tried to play it. He wanted to know if you were only with him today because Gale was busy.

“Probably at the Hob or something.” You shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

“You don’t know where he is? Aren’t you guys always together?”

“Not always. I’m with you.” You said and looked over your shoulder at him. Peeta smiled timidly as he looked into your eyes.

“You’re with me?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah. I’m with you.” You smiled at him before returned your attention to the bread.

“I can’t help but wonder for how long.” Peeta said softly. There was no self-pity in his voice, just an honest expression. You stared into the dough and felt guilty pile up in your stomach.

“I know it’s confusing. I know I’m confusing. I wish I had more answers to give you.” You said quietly without looking at him.

“It’s okay. I’m happy just doing this.” Peeta answered honestly.

“So am I.” You realized and leaned back into him.

You continued to knead the bread in comfortable silence as a gentle rain patter hit the windows. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt peace like this, peace only Peeta could give you.

“Is it done yet because it’s seriously grossing me out.” You said after a minute of the silence.

“It’s done.” Peeta chuckled. “You’re free.”

You slipped your hands out of his and quickly ran to the sink to rinse them.

“Ew, ew, ew.” You grimaced as you cleaned your hands. “That was grosser than when I had to clean out your leg wound.”

“Really? This is more disgusting than that?” Peeta laughed in surprise.

“Yes. I don’t know how you do it.” You stuck your tongue out as you dried your hands.

“I’m a baker. It’s my passion. I don’t know how you skin animals and don’t throw up.” Peeta remarked as he tossed the dough around a little and worked his hands into it. You shamelessly watched him do this for a second before snapping out of it.

“I’m a hunter. It’s my passion.” You humored him. Peeta looked at you fondly as he let out a laugh.

“You’re funny when you want to be.” He remarked as he put the loaf in the oven.

“Not you, though. You’re always funny. Even in the most life threatening situations, you’ve still made me laugh. And nobody can make me laugh.”

“I’ve noticed that. That nobody else can do it. Maybe that’s why I try so hard to be the one who can.” He admitted as he stared at you with that ever present fondness.

“Well it works.” You shrugged and held his gaze. You stared at each other for a moment before looking away in embarrassment.

“So how long does that bake for?” You asked him.

“30 minutes. Then we test it to see if it’s risen.”

“Hm. What should we do for the next 30 minutes?”

“Actually, there is something I’ve always wanted to do.” Peeta said with a timid smile.

“Uh oh. What’s that?” You asked coyly.

“Draw you. If that’s okay.”

“Haven’t you drawn me before?” You asked, knowing you’d caught glimpses of his sketches every now and then.

“Yes. But they’re all side profiles because I draw you when you aren’t looking. I want one of you facing front.”

“Okay.” You agreed as your face heated up from the request. Peeta grinned and went to grab his sketchbook as you sat on his couch. You felt the almost untouched furniture and felt sad that he lived in this great big house all by himself. When he came back, he positioned himself across from you and looked up eagerly.

“How should I pose?” You asked and raised your arms in a dramatic way you’d seen people in The Capital pose.

“Just relax. Sit how you would normally sit.” Peeta chuckled and began to sketch out your face.

“Well I don’t remember how to do that anymore.” You realized as you awkwardly shifted in your seat.

“Then just pick a way to sit and stay like that.” Peeta laughed again. You obliged and relaxed into his couch as you stared at him. He sketched the outline of your head while you studied his face closely. The sun was beginning to dim below the horizon, making Peeta’s foyer his favorite color, a soft orange. The way the light hit him made his blonde hair and eyelashes appear golden.

“Your eyelashes are so blond.” You commented without thinking.

“What?” Peeta looked up as his entire face turned red.

“I’ve never noticed that before. They’re so blond and shiny. They look almost golden from here. Like Effie’s hair.”

“This place gets really good lighting. It’s a shame I’m the only one who knows that.” Peeta said with a sad smile.

“Now you’re one of two who knows.” You replied, making his smile go from sad to lovelorn.

“That’s true.” He said softly. You exchanged a smile before he went back to drawing you. You felt like you were spying on him from his closely you were watching him but you never got to see him this peaceful. You studied the way his hands moved around his sketchbook and admired how they somehow knew exactly where to go.

“What are you staring at?” Peeta asked, catching you in the act. You gulped and knew you were caught, so you just came clean.

“Your hands.” You admitted and didn’t meet his eyes.

“Why?” He asked, face still in a rose blush.

“I can’t talk. I’m posing.” You said in an attempt to change the subject with a joke.

“You’re all done posing, actually. Come take a look.” Peeta said. You got up from your couch and leaned over him to look at what he had drawn. On his sketch pad was a perfect little charcoal drawing of you. You hadn’t posed for him yet he managed to perfectly capture your most neutral expression. You knew he most likely drew it from memory since you were definitely no help while posing.

“Peeta. That’s beautiful.” You gasped and looked into his eyes. Peeta looked up at you as you leaned over him and blinked slowly.

“Yeah. You are.” He spoke softly. You looked into Peeta’s eyes before letting your gaze drop down to his lips. Before you could psych yourself out, you leaned down to kiss him. Your lips had merely brushed his when the timer went off, making you jump at the sound.

“The bread is-“

Peeta cut your sentence off by tilting his chin the rest of the way up to kiss you. He sat up on his knees and slipped a hand behind your head to properly kiss you as the timer continued to go off in the background. When he pulled away, you were left breathless while he moved some hair off your forehead.

“Sorry. I wasn’t about to miss out on that kiss for bread.” Peeta smirked as he got off the couch. You watched him walk back into the kitchen and touched your fingertips to your lips. You were still buzzing from the kiss as you walked into the kitchen.

“It smells amazing. I can’t wait to try it.” You smiled politely while Peeta took the bread out of the oven. Once it cooled, you took a knife and went to cut into it.

“Woah woah, what are you doing?” Peeta stopped you.

“Cutting the bread?”

“You can’t just hack into it. There is an art to cutting bread, my dear. Here. Let me show you.” Peeta said as he wrapped his arms around you from behind again.

“Oh boy. Here we go.” You playfully rolled your eyes but didn’t protest.

“It’s like this. Yeah?” He said into your ear. You stayed silent as you watched his hands work over yours to cut the bread into perfect diagonal slices.

“You staring at my hands again?” He asked suddenly, making you freeze.

“Maybe.”

“Why do you keep doing that?” He chuckled softly in your ear.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just like them and can’t really explain why.”

“I know the feeling.” He whispered in your ear after a beat of silence. Peeta let go of one of your hands and used it to touch your side braid.

“Your braid is on a different side today.”

“Oh. Yeah. It is.” You gulped as he toyed with the end of your braid. His hand moved to your shoulder as he placed a kiss on the side of your neck that your braid wasn’t on. It sent shivers down your spine and you didn’t want him to stop.

“I like it.” He whispered against your skin and placed another kiss on your neck.

“You noticed that it was different?” You asked as you turned around in his arms.

“I notice everything about you.” Peeta said simply. You looked into his eyes and smiled before taking hand hand. You brought two prices of bread over to his front door and opened it. You sat across from each other and watched the late afternoon rain that drizzled through the dimming sunshine. You bit into the warm bread and listened the rain falling while Peeta just watched you. When you noticed him staring, you gave him a pointed look and nudged his shoe with your foot.

“You know, Effie told me there’s a stove on the train.” You told him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe you can show me how to make cake tomorrow?” You asked, making Peeta’s smile grow.

“Sure.” He nodded. “Anything you want.”

[sleepyangelkami]

I am completely obsessed with your Ellie stories. I beg you, please... Write more!!

HAUNTED DREAMS e.williams

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 3.2K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

  ☆ SUMMARY - you had always found it difficult to sleep but when ellie's there, it's like all the bad dreams go away. one night she takes night patrol and when she returns, she realises that the dreams have snuck into your mind while she's been gone.

 ☆ WARNINGS - reader has a nightmare, mentions of character death, mentions of reader's family dying, ptsd, reader having sorta a panic attack, violence + gore, comfort, suggestive joke in the beginning, use of y/n, petnames, use of good girl (not sexually), intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

your parents died before you got to jackson. in fact, when you'd found yourself walking in the gates, you were covered in blood from head to toe, your arms shaking from around you. you'd lost the only people that meant anything to you after the world had gone to shit. the people of the town had let you in. some asian kid opened the gates, he'd soon become one of your best friends. you were appointed to maria and tommy who, of course, let you stay. they took you in as one of your own.

ellie williams followed to the town soon after you did. at this stage, you were already best friends with dina and jesse, they had become the family you only could have dreamed for, it was all you needed after everything had happened.

back then, you were too shy to talk to the pretty auburn haired girl. she looked so cool, so fearless. she quickly became friends with jesse after being on patrol who then introduced her to dina who then introduced her to you.

you and ellie hit it off like no other.

quickly, you became inseparable. best friends, so they called it. you two were practically attached by the hip. she got you and you got her, there was nothing more about it. some people (jesse, single handedly jesse) would tease you for closeness to ellie, tell you that you must have a crush on the girl if you missed her the second she leaved and fawned over her the moment she returned. then again, jesse had always known you better than anyone else, seemingly more than yourself did at times.

jesse soon turned out to be right and by seventeen, you and ellie were just smitten for each other. when you guys got together, you went through a phase where you didn't talk. i mean, of course you talked, you hadn't gone mute. but what you hadn't talked about was everything before. ellie seemed pretty open when you guys started dating, she began spilling everything about her past, the present, everything with the fireflies, her immunity, joel's lies. everything just spewed from her mouth and into your arms. you? you picked her right up and comforted her that night that she told you everything, tears trickling down her face.

you never could talk like her though.

she knew you used to get really bad nightmares of that night, the night that everything happened, the night that you're life seemingly ended. she knew that these dreams seemed to always sneak up on you at the times that she wasn't around which was why she did everything she could to be around. it'd been years since you met ellie, you trusted her more than anyone else you've ever met. but there were just some words that you simply couldn't get out. ellie was okay with this, never pressured you. if anything, she'd kiss your head and let you know that when you were ready, she'd be there. even if it were mere loose words falling from your lips, she'd string up sentences and make a story for you both. she was so good.

then, maria had the bright idea of putting ellie on night patrol.

"do you have to go?" you spoke, your chin on her shoulder and all pouty as you looked up at her with her doe eyes. you and ellie spent every single night together, covered in one anothers embrace. she made all the problems in the world go away by simply being there. the nightmares, at least.

ellie sighed, turning her head to you with a look of guilt across her face. she really didn't want to leave you alone for the night but nobody could argue with maria. "i'll be as quick as i can, baby." and you believed her, but that didn't mean that it didn't suck.

"I know." you snuggled yourself into her, nuzzling your head into her neck. her scent filled your nose, wood and cologne, it was enough to have your legs wobbling. her arms were around you, holding you close as her hands trailed up and down your back, underneath your her shirt. her hands were warm, they reminded you of the summer, heating you up even when the harsh winter invaded your skin. you loved jackson but god was it cold.

she let a couple moments pass before sighing, glancing up at the clock. "i really have to go, sweetheart." because as much as she'd love to spend the rest of the night with you, she knew her patrol partner would soon worry as to where she'd gone.

you pulled yourself out of her embrace, blinking heavily. it seemed as though you were already pretty tired. "i know." you murmured again, as much as you didn't want to accept it.

when ellie had found out she had night patrol, the first place she went was maria's, telling her she couldn't do night patrols, not now, not ever. maria understood, she tried sympathising with her and with you, who at the time had no idea of the situation. but ellie didn't need the sympathy or the pity, she merely grumbled. she got a little angry, stating that maria didn't get it and that ellie couldn't go on night patrols, not when she knew you'd be sat inside your shared home while curling up into yourself. ellie had listened to your 'it's okay's and 'just go, it's fine' one too many times only to find you in the living room, staring into space with teary eyes. she wouldn't leave you alone for another night again, not when she knew how it'd end every single time. maria could only sigh, telling her she'd see what she could do. soon enough, she informed ellie that she wouldn't be put on night patrols again but tonight there simply wasn't anyone to cover for her. so, she'd give up tonight to save the rest of the nights. but that didn't mean it was any easier.

"hey." ellie caught your chin between her thumb and pointer finger. "you're gonna be fine, okay? jus' get some rest, sweet girl, i'll be back before you know it." her mouth leaning forward to press a kiss against your warm lips.

and so, she was gone.

without her, the room felt so cold. without her presence heating it up, it felt damp almost. there was something eerie about it that had you folding in on yourself. you were dressed in her boxers and her sleep shirt, using it so you could soak in the smell of her. you thought it'd help, it didn't. without her, you were sort of lost.

you felt a cold shiver run up your spine.

no, no you couldn't do this.

you quickly sat up on the bed, switching on the lamp next to your and ellie's bed. the bedsheets were a light pink, dark pink hearts dotted across the sheets, your wallpaper was pink again, with flowers across it. ellie wasn't a fan of anything in the room really, but it made you happy and that was all that mattered to ellie. you soon found out that you cold get anything you want just by smiling at her, you were her inseparable.

but as of right now, nothing felt warm and fuzzy. and you couldn't bring yourself to smile, even when you were thinking of the most beautiful, gentle, perfect girl in the world, your ellie. oh, how desperately you needed her home.

you shut yourself down, shaking your head. one night, you reminded yourself, you had to get through one night without her. you suddenly felt like a baby for even being scared in the first place. nothing could hurt you here in jackson, not like what could outside, not like what hurt your family all that time ago.

you blinked harshly, trying to erase the thoughts from your head.

a book sat on your bedside table, you'd read it a thousand times. or, well, ellie had read it. you merely listened as you forced her to read it, batting your lashes and telling her please. you just needed a bedtime story and ellie wasn't exactly the most creative. the last time she tried making up a bedtime story it ended with her pushing your two plushies in front of you, imitating your moans from the night before. this, of course, had earned a swat into the back of the head and a whine quite alike 'ellieeeuyh! you're supposed to be making a good story!' to which she was awfully offended. 'this is a good story! see, i'm bear ellie fucking bunny y/n.' putting on weird voices for each character.

you'd picked up the book, sitting it in front of you and focusing your mind on the words. this time, you wanted to be good for ellie. you wanted her to be able to come home and just sleep. if you focused on the words, distracted yourself enough then you could stay up as late as you pleased, you would only go to sleep after she's returned home.

you thought the plan was great.

staying awake until she got home. staying awake until she got home. staying awake until... you were so tired.

you were so tired that you hardly noticed your mind slipping and your eyes fluttering shut. your sleeping mind didn't register the way that the book slowly fell from your hands and onto the side of the bed, eyes screwed shut and breathing becoming softer, slower. suddenly, you were in a deep sleep and you had many hours to go before your girlfriend comes home.

seconds passed, turning into minutes and then the blur of at least two hours.

you were still passed out in the bedroom. in your sleep, you'd managed to move so you were laying against the soft, fluffed pillows that elevated you a little. your body had found itself engulfed in the blankets that surrounded you, ellie's scent filling the room.

but even the familiar scent of your girlfriends clothes you wore couldn't pull you out of the dream that had snuck it's way towards you now.

the eerie feeling creeped through your body, sending shivers throughout you as the hair stood on your arms. it snuck it's way through towards your head, seeping into your mind. before you'd fallen asleep, you'd almost assumed that the warm light of the room would keep the monsters and demons in your head at bay. but of course, without ellie, you were seemingly trapped.

ellie found herself making her way towards your guys' house a while later. it was late, so late, the sky had darkened completely, a black blanket enveloping the town of jackson. her jacket was covered in snow, little flakes draw across the material. she'd barely made it inside the house when the real snow began, she knew jackson like no other and she knew that by morning, the entire town would be covered in snow. she wasn't a fan but you adored it. you thought it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen, she thought the same about you.

making her way inside, she kicked off her boots, tossing off her jacket and letting her bag fall against the ground. it was quiet, she took this as a good sign.

her sock covered feet trailed themselves towards the living room, peeking her head in and not spotting you anywhere. she supposed, that was also a good sign. perhaps you'd done what she asked and gotten some sleep for yourself.

before she left the living room, she made sure to put another log on the fire, knowing it'd be the last one for the night and hoping that it'd keep the house warm for a while. you'd mentioned lighting the stove in the kitchen earlier but ellie shrugged you off, stating that you both would be just fine with the living room fire. of course, you were right, you were always right and as her arms wrapped around herself, she realised she better start listening to you more.

she found herself walking up the stairs, reaching the top and flicking off the light. you were always too scared to do it by yourself, she couldn't help but smile fondly at the thought.

ellie's eyes glanced towards your guys' bedroom door, peeking inside. she could see that the bedside table lamp had been turned on and she found herself walking towards it, spotting you. you were all wrapped up in the blankets, your hair covering the only part of your face that had been visible. she couldn't see your face, however, she still managed to press a little kiss against your forehead, petting your head slightly. then, she grasped the book that was sitting next to you, it must have fallen. without a second thought, she took it from your position, placing it back on the table and then grasping the blankets, taking them down from your face and tucking them around your body. she pushed the hair from your face too, seeing your beautiful features suddenly come to life. she wondered how on earth she had gotten so lucky.

at this point, her eyes were almost fuzzy from tiredness so she hadn't noticed the way your brows were scrunched together, lips strewn in a pout. turning off the only light in the bedroom, she moved away from your body, grasping her jumper and pulling it off her body. she stayed clad in her sports bra, her hands fumbling with the buttons of her jeans, letting them fall off her. it wasn't until she was stepping into her sweatpants that she heard it. a noise fell from your lips, a little whimper.

instantly, her ears perked up, turning her head in your direction. you'd moved from where you last were, almost shoving your face in the pillows beneath you. then, she heard it again, that loud, prolonged whine.

and she knew, it wasn't right.

she was rushing towards you in seconds. getting up onto the bed and her hands finding your body. "hey, hey, wake up, baby." those blasted nightmares that she wished she could get rid of. her poor girl didn't deserve such things. "c'mon, angel, wake up." she tried, her hands pushing at you, shaking you gently albeit.

"please." you mumbled, all broken and soft as you pushed your head into the pillow impossibly more. though, your eyes were still strewn shut, ragged breaths falling from your lips. "please no."

and ellie's heart broke impossibly more. she knew what you were dreaming of, those clickers, those stalkers, the infected, taking your parents and piecing them apart piece by piece all in front of your eyes. their blood spewing onto you. you'd tried so hard, fought for them and in the end you were left with dead clickers, though your parents weren't in any better condition. "wake up, sweet girl." though her voice was slick with stress, trying to will you awake.

when you did wake, a scream was ripping at your throat. you were up in seconds, your breathing laboured and whimpers falling from your lips. ellie's arms were wrapping around you so instantly, you found yourself clawing her off. "please, please, stop, don't―" you couldn't see that it was ellie in the darkness of the bedroom, only feeling arms engulfing you.

"hey, hey, it's just me. 's ellie." she wrapped her arms around yours, strapping them down so you didn't flail them, hurting her or yourself in the process of waking.

you stopped moving, although your breathing was still laboured, breaths shallow and uneven. "ellie." is all you mumbled, so confused. everything had felt so surreal, as if you were there in the moment once more, now that you were back in the bedroom with ellie by your side, it just didn't seem real.

she'd placed your back against her front, sitting behind you as she held you close. "'s okay, sweetheart, 'm right here, ellie's here." but she could hear the way your breathing only picked up, your mind flooding with thoughts of the nightmare. "i gotchu, angel, calm down, alright?" but you couldn't, you tried, believe me you tried but your breathing wouldn't stop, you couldn't catch your breath. ellie knew what to do, noticing the panic attack that was stringing upon you. "hey, c'mere." her hand fell down to your own, clasping it softly, she brought it up to her lips, pressing a kiss to it before placing it on her chest. "y'feel that, honey? 's my heart, 'm here and so are you." she placed your hand over to your own chest, feeling the harsh beat of your heart against it, it was a stark contrast to the soft one of her own. she moved downward slightly, pulling you with her so she could lay on her back, laying your head against her chest. "jus' match my breathing, baby, you've got this." and you tried, wheezing your breaths out. "jus' like that, such a good girl. where are you, sweets?"

you let out a shaky breath. "h-home." you managed to get out, your eyes still welled with tears.

she hummed, agreeing with you. "whose home?"

"ours." you spoke softly, shutting your eyes and breathing out. you attempted everything in your will to stop the rapidness of your heartbeat. but ellie didn't pressure you, making sure you took your time.

"my smart girl." she mumbled. "'s right, you're home. we're home, okay? there's absolutely nothing for you to worry about, nothing can get you here, you're safe."

"els." she hummed, waiting for you to finish. "w-was s'scared." this was when your breathing had returned to normal but the tears willing to break free were still embedded into your eyes.

"oh, i know, honey." feeling her heart break for you. she held you close, pressing kisses into your hair. she wished she could help more, she felt utterly useless just keeping you in her arms. though, her fingers soothed up and down your back, trying to comfort you. she'd never know just how good of a job she was doing. "but there's nothing to be scared of anymore, 'm here, okay?"

you nodded, breathing out as you placed your head in the crook of her neck, she could feel your steady breaths against her skin. "feel safe with you." you told, fluttering your eyes shut. suddenly, the world didn't feel so scary, the past didn't seem so terrifying. with ellie, being truly safe seemed possible.

"you are safe with me." she informed you, fingers pressing shakes onto your skin. "what happened to you was... awful." your chest ached at the thought of that night with your parents. "but nothing more is going to happen to you as long as i'm here."

you pulled your head from her neck, looking up at her with those watery eyes. "promise?" voice bleak and broken.

ellie smiled softly at you. "I promise." pulling your head towards her to capture your lips in a soft kiss. you melted into her, allowing her to heal you with her touch, her hand against your jaw. when she pulled away, she was pulling the hair away from your face, big green eyes looking at you so full of admiration and love. "'s me 'n you against the world, baby."

never in your life had you been so sure of something before.

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist