#hmm maybe one more hair?? and then i have to even it out of course

[megah3rz]

i just plucked off like half of my eyebrows. we twinning

it wasn't even on purpose. my impulsions won today

[pucksandpower]

Smooth-Talker

Lando Norris x press officer!Reader

Summary: in which Lando has a pick up line for every occasion

“Did it hurt?” Lando asks, leaning casually against the wall outside the McLaren garage.

You glance up from your clipboard, raising an eyebrow. “Did what hurt?”

“When you fell from heaven,” Lando says with a cheeky grin.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. As one of McLaren’s press officers, you’re used to Lando’s constant stream of corny pick up lines and good-natured flirting.

“You know, I think that line was old even when my grandpa used it.”

Lando clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch, straight to the heart!”

You laugh and continue reviewing the schedule for the race weekend. Lando falls into step beside you as you start walking towards the paddock.

“But seriously,” Lando says, “You should be arrested.”

You glance over at him. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“For stealing my heart,” Lando says with a wink.

“Mhm, nice try,” you reply dryly, though you feel your cheeks flush slightly.

“Hey, are you religious?” Lando asks.

You raise an eyebrow. “Not particularly, why?”

“Cause you’re the answer to all my prayers,” Lando says earnestly.

You bite your lip to hide your smile. “That one was pretty good, not gonna lie.”

Lando pumps his fist triumphantly. “Yes! I knew you’d like that one.”

You reach the motorhome and pause, checking your watch. “Okay Casanova, I’ve got to prep for the press conference.”

“Before you go, quick question,” Lando says, gently catching your arm. “Do you have a map?”

You frown in confusion. “A map? What for?”

“Because I keep getting lost in your eyes,” Lando says softly, gazing at you.

You feel your heart skip a beat as you meet his own warm eyes. You open your mouth but no witty comeback comes out.

Lando grins and releases your arm. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.” He winks and saunters off towards the hospitality tent.

You watch him go, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You’ve always thought Lando was cute, with his curly hair and infectious smile that lights up any room. But since joining McLaren, your feelings have slowly deepened into something more. And based on his incessant flirting, you’re starting to think maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way.

Shaking your head, you refocus on the task at hand — prepping talking points for the upcoming press conference. Still, you can’t stop thinking about Lando and the way he always seems to make you blush and smile, even with his cheesy pick up lines.

Over the course of the race weekend, Lando continues his campaign of corny pick up lines and flirtatious banter. Between FP3 and qualifying, he sidles up next to you in the garage.

“You know what you would look really beautiful in?” He asks.

You glance over at him. “Hmm?”

“My arms,” Lando says with a cheeky wink.

You bite your lip, feeling your cheeks flush. “Lando, I’m trying to work here.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Lando says, though he’s clearly not sorry at all based on his impish grin.

Following qualifying, Lando scrambles out of his car after setting the fastest lap. He makes a beeline over to you through the celebrating crowd of papaya.

“Do you have a Band-Aid?” He asks urgently.

You frown, instantly concerned. “Are you bleeding? What happened?”

“No no, I’m fine,” Lando assures you. “I just scraped my knee falling for you,” he says with a roguish smile.

You cover your face with your hands to hide your blush. “Oh my god, Lando, that was terrible!” You try to look disapproving, but end up laughing.

“Worth it to see you smile,” Lando says warmly before darting off again.

On race day, you’re feeling anxious. As you pace around the paddock, you literally run into Lando.

“Whoa there!” Lando says, catching you by the shoulders. Concern flickers across his face. “You okay?”

You nod, acutely aware of his hands still resting on your shoulders. “Yeah, just nervous I guess.”

Lando rubs your arms reassuringly. “We’re gonna do great. And you know what else is great?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“The view,” Lando says, gaze locked on you. “Pretty spectacular from where I’m standing.”

You duck your head, heart pounding. When you look back up, Lando is watching you closely. He seems to be debating saying something else. After a moment, he just squeezes your shoulder gently. “We’ve got this,” he says sincerely, before heading off to get ready for the race.

You take a deep breath, feeling bolstered by Lando’s encouragement and flirtatious comment.

The race gets underway and immediately descends into chaos. Multiple collisions on the first lap bring out the safety car. You watch anxiously from the garage as the pack circulates behind the safety car for several laps while the debris is cleared.

Finally the message comes across the radio - the race is going green again on the next lap. You glance at the screens and see Lando lining up in P3 for the restart. You cross your fingers and silently will him to have a clean restart.

The pack accelerates for the restart and manages to get through the first few corners without incident. Over the next 20 laps, Lando battles fiercely to maintain his podium position. Other drivers try to challenge him but he holds strong in P3.

With 10 laps to go, you’re on the edge of your seat watching Lando defend P3 with everything he’s got. Suddenly over the radio you hear Lando’s frustrated voice. “Something’s wrong with the car, it’s down on power.”

Your heart sinks as you listen to Lando’s increasingly concerned radio calls about the lack of power. He’s slowly losing positions as the laps tick down. By the last lap, he’s fallen from 3rd to 7th from the sudden power loss.

As Lando’s car limps across the finish line, you hurry down to meet him. He pulls off his helmet and balaclava, looking weary and disappointed.

“Lando, are you okay? What happened out there?” You ask worriedly.

“I’m fine. The car is just a bit banged up,” Lando says with a tired smile. “Not sure what happened with the engine yet though.”

You hesitate, then wrap Lando in a tight hug. “I’m glad you’re okay,” you murmur.

Lando seems surprised but hugs you back firmly. For a long moment, you stand there just holding each other, the sounds of the paddock fading away.

Finally you step back, smiling shyly up at Lando. “So, P7. Could’ve been worse I guess, considering the issues you had.”

Lando nods, scrubbing a hand through his wild curls. “Yeah, could’ve been much worse. I’ll take the points.” He smiles ruefully. “Not quite the podium I was hoping for to impress you though.”

You bite your lip. “Lando ...”

Lando rushes to fill the silence. “You know what’s on the podium of my heart?”

You sigh, though you feel your pulse quicken. “What?”

“You,” Lando says softly, gazing at you with open affection.

You stare at him, heart thumping wildly. Before you can overthink it, you grab his race suit and pull him in for a kiss. Lando makes a surprised sound before wrapping his arms around you and kissing you deeply. For a blissful moment, everything else fades away and it’s just the two of you.

When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Lando has a dazed, elated look on his face. “Wow … so does this mean all my cheesy pick up lines finally worked?”

You laugh and smack his chest playfully. “I don’t know if I’d say they worked … but they did make it very clear someone has a crush on me.”

You smile up at Lando, enjoying the faint blush on his cheeks.

Lando grins. “Maybe just a small one,” he teases. His expression turns more serious. “I really care about you, Y/N. And I’d love to take you on a proper date, if you’d like?”

Your heart swells and you nod. “I’d really like that.”

Lando’s answering smile is bright enough to outshine the sun. He squeezes you in another quick hug. “I better go debrief about the race. But I’ll come find you after?”

You nod, giddy butterflies taking flight in your stomach. “It’s a date,” you say with a smile.

Lando heads off looking like he just won the championship, with a spring in his step and grin on his face. You brush your fingers over your still-tingling lips, scarcely able to believe that really just happened.

After Lando finishes his lengthy post-race debrief, he finds you packing up for the day in the paddock. “You ready?” He asks, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Ready!”

You head out of the paddock hand-in-hand, both still riding the high of finally admitting your feelings for each other.

“Sooo, what exactly did you have in mind for this date?” You ask Lando curiously.

Lando grins. “Well first, how do you feel about Ferris wheels?”

You smile slowly. “I think Ferris wheels have potential to be very romantic.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Lando says with a wink.

You spend the evening strolling around the nearby funfair, enjoying the lights and sounds. Lando wins you an oversized stuffed teddy bear playing carnival games. You share candy floss and corndogs while taking in the sights.

Finally, you hop in line for the Ferris wheel. When it’s your turn, you settle into the seat across from Lando. As the wheel lifts you into the night sky, you take in the sprawling city views.

Lando slides closer and slips his hand into yours. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”

You smile, loving how he still seems nervous even after kissing you earlier. “Smooth line, but I’ll allow it,” you tease gently.

Your Ferris wheel carriage reaches the top and pauses, giving you a panoramic view of the city at night. The lights twinkle like stars around you.

It’s magical.

Lando’s arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you closer. Your heart races as you turn towards him. His eyes reflect the dazzling lights as he gazes at you. He brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch igniting sparks along your skin.

As he leans in, you let your eyes flutter shut. His lips meet yours and the rest of the world fades away. Up here above the world, wrapped in Lando’s arms, you feel like you’re flying.

By the end of the night, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Lando walks you to your hotel room, fingers intertwined, reluctance slowing your steps.

Outside your door, you turn to face Lando. “Thank you for tonight, it was perfect.”

Lando smiles, tracing patterns on your palm with his thumb. “So I did alright for a first date then?”

You laugh. “You far exceeded expectations.” Your smile softens. “I’m really happy.”

“Me too,” Lando says, eyes shining. He takes a deep breath, looking uncharacteristically nervous again. “So, I was wondering … and feel free to say no obviously! But, um, I have two tickets to the Arctic Monkeys concert next weekend and was hoping maybe you’d want to ...” he trails off, biting his lip anxiously.

Your smile widens and you squeeze his hand. “I’d love to be your date to the concert.”

The answering grin that lights up Lando’s face is breathtaking. He punches the air, looking adorably excited. “Yes! This is going to be epic.”

You giggle at his antics. “Well this was a really fun first date. I can’t wait to see what other surprises you have planned.”

You lean in and kiss Lando softly. As you pull back, Lando clears his throat.

“Y/N, can I tell you something without you getting mad?”

You raise an eyebrow curiously. “Umm sure, I guess?”

Lando winces slightly. “I was wondering if you could give me directions ...”

You look confused. “Directions? To where?”

“To your heart,” Lando shoots you a cheesy grin.

You stare at him for a beat, then burst into laughter. “Oh my god, Lando, that was so corny!”

Lando just smiles unrepentantly. “Maybe, but did it work?”

You continue giggling and shake your head. “I don’t know why I find your cheesy lines so charming, but I do.”

You lean in and give him one more quick kiss. “Goodnight, Lando. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lando’s eyes shine happily. “Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he says, squeezing your hand before slowly backing away towards the elevator.

You watch him walk down the hallway, giddy butterflies still fluttering away in your chest.

You have a feeling this is the start of something special. A lifetime of cheesy pick up lines sounds pretty damn perfect.

[pomefioredove]

boop

summary: booping them + their reactions type of post: headcanons characters: third years additional info: is short, platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral author's note: this would've been good to post for the tumblr april fool's event but I missed out so you're getting it now instead!

𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

hmm... okay!

trey often navigates his interactions with other students based on his interactions with his siblings

there's an order to human behavior, after all

especially with the underclassmen shenanigans (he's really seen it all at this point; don't ask)

none of his siblings, however, have walked up to him unannounced and booped his nose

not yet, at least?

it seems to make you happy though, so he just smiles

half of his job as vice housewarden is "going along with it"

he's pretty used to nonsense

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

he's editing something on his phone the first time you try and doesn't even notice it

...and the second time, and the third

it becomes a sort of routine for you

tentatively trying to see how many times you can get away with it before he finally notices and says something

and it only spirals from there, of course

you'll up to him while he's talking to someone else, boop him, and walk away

(much to the other person's confusion)

does he notice? yeah, of course

do you need to know that he notices? ...maybe not

he likes the attention, just let him have this one

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 ⋆˚⸙˖°༄✩⊹

he gnaws your hand off

okay, not really. too messy for him

(and the consequences would be such a headache to deal with...)

but he is all grumpy because you woke him up for that

"What was that supposed to be? -_- Don't do that again,"

rolls over and goes back to sleep

you're lucky he reacted as nonchalantly as he did tbh, lions don't like being pet, and he could've kicked you out of his room in a heartbeat for that

(maybe you get a special pass to be annoying)

note to you: don't do that again

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭 ˚⊹˚₊🕊 ˚✧ ₊

boops you back right away

does he necessarily know what that means? no, but he'll find out soon enough anyway

and based off your body language and expression it seems like a gesture of affection

...which he's all too happy to return

(he's so excited to be touching you affectionately he could explode)

now every time you see each other you end up going back and forth for hours

"boop!" "boop!" "boop!"

that's one sure way to give Vil a headache

(you may or may not end up temporarily banned from Pomefiore for disturbing the peace)

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭 ˚⊹˚₊🕊 ˚✧ ₊

you'd assume he gets annoyed, right?

well, he's a little surprised at first (people just don't go around touching him, after all)

then he just smiles

"Remember what we said about asking before touching, hm?"

you're lucky he thinks you're cute

(if not a little strange)

like, so lucky

congratulations on being the only human on earth who gets away with casually touching his face like that

𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 ₊✩‧₊˚⊹༄˚₊모‧₊

well. what do you expect

his eyes widen and his face (and hair) go pink and he internally freaks out (but externally just stands there)

"Um... What was that for?"

Idia might be a little more familiar with the conventions of a boop than anyone else

it's what you do to adorable little animals, right? like kitties and puppies?

so... why are you doing it to him?

if you say you "just felt like it" he might believe you

if you say it's because you think he's cute he will be avoiding you for the rest of the month

good luck!

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚 ✩⁺₊°⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ☽｡°⊹

blinks.

has zero clue what you meant by that

but you seem happy with yourself so it couldn't have been a bad thing, right?

"I'm unfamiliar with that gesture. Is that a greeting from your home?"

you explain that it's a sort of affection you show towards cute things

"Oh, well... you're quite brave. I'm honored,"

he's definitely all sunshine and rainbows for the rest of the week

he's all but giggling and kicking his feet back and forth

no one really questions him

and he doesn't really explain

(if Sebek finds out you booped the heir to the throne of Briar Valley as if he were a kitty cat he will gnaw your hand off)

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞 ✩⁺₊°⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ☽｡°⊹

pleasantly surprised, doesn't even question it

he is adorable, after all, he can't blame you for wanting to be affectionate with him

boops you back, of course

after all, aren't you just the cutest thing too?

if you try to walk away after booping him he will find you to return the favor

will somehow make it a competitive sport

waiting for you around corners, hiding in every nook and cranny so that he might catch you by surprise and boop you

(he is totally keeping count of who's ahead)

it makes the school a warzone for like a solid week before Silver's pleas to "please be normal about the prefect" finally work

(AKA Lilia gets bored of it and finds another way to be close to you)

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 2) - August!

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: this sweet one is set just before they broke it off (or rather, before the reader stomped all over his heart) in part five!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

August! (... slipped away into a moment in time)

It's a fine morning, albeit lazy, you and Ewan having done nothing but lay in bed and talk and cuddle.

Granted, you did a lot more than talk over the course of the night. And this continued in the morning, with Ewan gently coaxing you out of sleep in need.

He's been insatiable, not that you can blame him. You two are finally together, after months of dancing around each other, your friends in eager anticipation to see how the 'will-they, won't they' dynamic will culminate.

They'll be pleased to know that it all led up to the best date you've had so far, followed by a night of bodies burning for the other, marking their territory in the throes of pent-up desire.

Ewan was sure he would remain the gentleman, merely driving you back to your hotel and calling it a night.

But you had invited him upstairs for a nightcap. Maybe some tea, as the Brits do. Needless to say, the tea was quickly forgotten, along with any reservations he might have about simply having you.

The haze of it hasn't subsided. Clad in nothing but undergarments, your limbs are tangled with his under the sheets as you watch the newly released New York foods video he did with Tom a while back.

"Baby?" you say, running your fingers through his hair as he has his head propped on your thighs. The screen plays on, showing the lads thoroughly enjoying some New York City hotdogs.

"Hmm?" he responds, his voice hinting at how soothed he feels from your touch.

"You're such a baby."

"What?" He twists his neck to shoot you a look of betrayal. Adorable.

"I bet those chips weren't even that spicy," you say, rolling your eyes. "I would have devoured those jalapeño chips."

"They were spicy!" He leans against his forearm, which he quickly positioned on your thigh without thinking, causing your muscle to spasm from the sudden weight.

"Ahhh, Ewan!" you wriggle your legs. "Get off, get off..."

"Shit!" He bolts upright, immediately kneading the flesh with his palm. "Sorry, baby. Here, where does it hurt?"

You sigh audibly. "Oh, you." You narrow your eyes at him playfully, trying to look all tough, but apparently he takes it as a cue to press his lips to yours.

It's warm, a bit sloppy, your breaths stale from wine drank over the course of the night. And you don't mind at all.

He croons in your ear, "How do I make it up to you?"

"It's fine, I was only kind of messing - "

"Come now, darling, anything."

He gazes at you, awaiting an answer. In the background, you hear his voice saying, The Fuegos... I didn't like them, as the video comes to a close.

I saw your eyeballs sort of pop out your head a little bit, Tom says in response.

This is going to be fun, you think, smiling evilly to yourself.

Rising to your knees on the bed, you loudly declare, "Today, my love, you will conquer your fears and eat my favourite spicy food."

"Nooo!" He shakes his head right away, already plotting how to get out of this predicament. "Baby, please make me do anything else. I can't handle my spice!"

"My mind is made up."

"What if I do that thing that made you scream last night? When I buried my tongue insi - '

"Ewan!" Your face reddens, but you carry on. His face will soon have the same reaction, but for different, more savoury reasons. "I mean, I would like that but - "

"Alright, let's go baby, spread your knees - " he nods, desperate to placate you and your challenge, but also eager to get down to business.

You shuffle away when he tries to pry your legs open. " - I said I made up my mind! We're eating spicy food. We gotta eat anyway, I'm starving."

He groans, collapsing back on the bed. He runs his hand tiredly over his face, mulling it over. As if he actually has a choice. He wants to do this for you, seeing as how excited you're getting.

"Get up, ol' sport," you crawl on top of him, perching above his stomach. "We're gonna go get the goods."

"Hmm," he sighs contentedly, one look at you more than enough to quell his worries. For now.

"Okay, darling," he relents, then his eyes flash in mischief. "But before we get out of bed... how about I do that thing anyway?"

There is not a single chance in the seven hells that you could ever say no to that.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An interesting spread is laid out on the round dining table in your hotel suite.

Your stomach growls in anticipation, while Ewan is stiff as a board as he sits beside you.

"I'm hungry, aren't you?" you nudge him, but he only moans, throwing his head back in his chair.

"What if I'd already eaten? I can skip this?" he tries.

"And what the hell did you eat?"

He smirks, and even though his answer won't save him from what follows, it renders him gleeful all the same. "You," is his reply.

That prompts an eye roll, but you shake your head at him fondly. "What should we start with, baby?"

"Water."

"Come on."

"How about the strawberry milk?"

"Okay, then I'll pick." You clasp your hands, surveying the options. "Let's start with something easy." You settle for the bowl of Flamin Hot Cheetos and place it right in front of him.

You help yourself to a few pieces, before noticing that he hasn't moved a muscle, so you take one and bring it to his lips. "Open up, handsome."

"Mmmm," he tilts his head away on instinct, but he gives in after a second. He makes a face as the snack crunches in his mouth. "Not... bad, I suppose.... Urghhh - " he coughs a little, making you snicker at him between bites.

"That's not spicy at all," you say. "At least, it's nothing compared to what we'll have next."

The chicken wings are an unnatural bright red colour, covered in hot sauce and dotted with flecks of chili. You lean down and take a whiff, your nose scrunching as the strong hint of spice hits your senses.

Your placating smile does nothing to ease Ewan, who only looks like he is regretting his life choices on the spot.

"O-kay, dragonblood. Time to breathe fire," you remark in an attempt to inspire some confidence in him. Didn't he take pride in playing a Targaryen dragonrider? Surely some part of him would want to overcome the big, bad opponent that is known in our world as spicy wings.

"Breathe fire?" he exclaims. "That does not make me feel any better!"

"Do it for Vhagar, my love. Do it for Vhagar."

"I'm doing this for you," he corrects, before gingerly taking the smallest bite of a wing. He waits for the impact, confused when nothing unpleasant occurs.

So he bravely takes another, heartier bite.

Big mistake.

His hand gravitates to the glass of water, and he chugs it down like a lifeline. His once pale face becomes the same hue as the fiery culprit.

"Fffuck, ba...by," he hiccups. "I didn't like that at all."

You have a bite, wincing just a little when it hits your throat. It wasn't too bad, so you tell him to calm down.

He complains anyway, "I think I just saw my life flash right before my eyes."

You chortle at that, which unfortunately makes some of the spice travel up your nose. "Oh god!" You instantly take a huge gulp of milk. "Don't make me laugh!" you say, when the heat dies down.

"See?" he cries out in vindication. "Why must we torture ourselves, darling?"

"The food's tasty," you counter.

"Yeah, but is it worth the price?"

You grip his shoulder, dramatically saying, "We have to keep going, soldier."

"No."

"Yes."

"You won't break up with me if I refuse, will you?"

You pause, making it seem like you are seriously deliberating it. "Maybe."

"What?!" His expression takes on a more real sense of alarm.

"I'm kidding," you giggle, nudging his leg with yours. He leans his head against your shoulder, responding with, "You're mean."

"And you're dating me. What does that say about you?"

He lets out a weary laugh, "That I'm just really in love, I guess."

That almost makes you give up on the challenge entirely. You could just let him eat the pepperoni pizza you have saved as the actual meal. But it wouldn't hurt too much to tackle the grand finale. The final boss. Maybe it will even get his taste buds to crack and cross over to the dark side.

"Baby?" Here goes everything.

"Hmm?"

"It's time for the spicy ramen."

He sighs a true sigh of defeat and acceptance. "If I survive this, you have to swear you're never letting me go."

"That's your bargain? Easy, baby."

His blue eyes bore into yours. His cheeks are still red and he's still sniffling from the spice, but his sentiment holds weight. He shrugs, before his arm reaches out for the bowl of ramen, making it known that he has already accepted his fate.

You slide the glass of milk closer to him.

"Try not to get it on your lips as much as possible," you advise him, growing worried as the ramen pack did warn that it was '2x Spicy'.

You cringe inwardly as a forkful of noodles enters his mouth. He drops his arm, chewing slowly, and finally the food gratefully slides down his throat.

"Mmm," he clears his throat, trying his hardest to remain calm. His forced, blank expression is even more alarming than the alternative.

"Ewan?" He turns his head toward you, slowly. And you see the full extent of the damage. His eyes well with tears, and his breathing is shallow from an even more congested nose.

"I'm okay," he wheezes, trying to maintain a show of boldness for your sake. "I can do this."

"You don't look okay." You shake your head at him, as his face takes on an even deeper shade of red.

A pained grunt escapes him. "Maybe a kiss will make it better."

A cursory glace at the ramen sauce staining his lips compels you to protest without a second thought. "How about no? You've got it all over your lips."

"Darling, who cares? You're going to eat them too!" he says, scandalised.

"But I've got a technique. I don't let it touch my lips so it doesn't burn!" You inch away as he leans in.

"So you won't kiss me?" He uses his baby blues against you, eyes bright and shimmering as he pouts in disappointment.

"You don't need a kiss." He tries to grab you, making you stand from your chair to get away. With your palm outstretched, you implore him, "Baby, just drink your milk."

"Then I get a kiss?"

"Fine. Then you get a kiss."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Tom calls you a few days later, his tone animated from the moment you pick up. "Would you look at that! I didn't think I would get a hold of you lovers. Thought you'd be busy doing somethin' else, if y'know what I mean."

"It's noon here, Tom," you reply matter-of-factly, stretching your legs out on the bed.

"So? I reckon Captain Big Balls over there has got it in him."

"Wow," you let out an amused exhale. Tom always did have a way about him, being a Manc and all. "Well, he's in the shower right now if you wanted to speak to him."

"I'm surprised you're not in there with him, love! You guys are all over the news, bloody hell. Even out here, everyone's buzzin' about the hot new couple from House of the Dragon. And no, it's not Matt and Fabien."

You smirk at his last remark, "Are you sure it's not Matt and Fabs?"

"Positive," he says. "But we never know what could happen. Anyway, how in the hell did you convince him?"

You rack your brain for what exactly he could be pertaining to. "Convince him to do what?"

"To create a bloody Instagram profile, that's what!"

Your mouth falls open, and you quickly put him on speaker so you can scroll to the aforementioned app. Sure enough, it doesn't take long for you to sift through your new follower notifications before you find him.

His username is on brand - straightforward and no-frills - just ewanmitchell . Already verified with a hundred thousand followers and counting. In his following list, however, there is only one - your profile.

If the papparazzi pictures and tabloid stories and fan encounters hadn't convinced everyone yet, likely this will.

Ewan, notorious not only for his charisma and pure talent, but also for being steadfast in staying off social media, has sent the entirety of Ewan Nation into a tailspin with his profile.

Icing on the cake - he only follows you.

"You see, this is what convinces the public that you two are not PR," Tom says. "Because Ewan would never, ever get on the socials for just anyone."

"I didn't even know he made this. I haven't been online in quite a bit."

"Been busy, huh?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Doin' a lot of stuff out there?"

"I guess."

"Like Ewan?"

"Tom, I'm going to lynch you when I see you."

He only laughs, having gotten his desired outcome from prodding at you.

The bathroom door slides open, and Ewan steps out with nothing but a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist.

"Who's that?" he mouths at you.

"Tom," you answer loudly, prompting Tom to greet Ewan from the speakerphone.

"Aemond the Fierce!" he bellows, the long-distance call doing nothing to stifle his personality. "I always knew you had it in ya. Ever since you laid eyes on her during the table read, I knew it was only a matter of time."

Well, isn't that a revelation. You had thought it was just you harbouring a crush in the beginning. "The table read, really? I just remember being so nervous," you say.

"I thought you were attractive," Ewan admits, scratching the back of his neck. "And you were reading your lines with such passion that I... "

Tom interrupts, "He ran over to me and told me to show him your social media."

"Not just that, I - "

"He wanted to see whether you had any pictures with a boyfriend or something."

"Alright, alright." Ewan snatches the phone from your hand, as if that will keep Tom from exposing him even more. "How are you, mate?"

"I'm good, lad, and yourself?"

Ewan glances at you, seeing that you've gone back to reading a script, your brow furrowed in concentration.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"I'm great. I'm happy."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

"Over here! Over here!"

"How's your evening going, you guys? How are you enjoying LA?"

The papparazzi needlessly try to make small talk and they flash their cameras in your face. You and Ewan barely have time to grimace at each other once you get inside his car. The restaurant where he took you to dinner hadn't been crawling with paps when you arrived. Someone must have tipped them at some point.

Ewan instinctively reaches for your hand when you've driven some distance away from the restaurant, a breath of relief exiting his lungs.

"That's Hollywood for you, baby," he says amusedly, putting on his best standard American accent.

The car speeds through the streets of LA. Heading to Mount Hollywood, you have the famous Griffith Observatory set as your destination.

You have always wanted to go, and it only took one mention to Ewan before he planned it for your next date.

It doesn't take long before the observatory's iconic structure comes into view. Its white domes seemingly gleam under the night sky, a sentinel watching over the city of Los Angeles.

Stepping out of the car, you take in the scene in awe. The resulting look on your face lets Ewan know he made the right choice in taking you here. He'd take you here everyday if it meant seeing you in a spell of childlike wonder.

The observatory itself is just a bonus.

The outer balcony stretches like a vertice into the vastness of the city, a sea of lights glistening down below. It seemed to sprawl on endlessly, a labyrinth of hopes and pains and dreams.

You stand there, drawn to the view like a moth to a flame. The evening breeze dances through your hair, and your face is aglow from the illuminated city.

Smiling widely, you turn and find Ewan lingering just behind, watching you.

"Come and look at this, my love," you wave him over.

He wants to capture the moment, so he does. He subtly points his camera in your direction. Your profile is partially visible, with your face turned out into the horizon. Your silhouette stands before a mosaic of the shining city.

But it's you that has his attention. You that pulls all of his focus into the frame.

He never thought he would have much use for a public social media profile like the one he created on Instagram, but hours later, as you're sound asleep beside him, he finds purpose for such a thing.

He uploads the first ever photo on his profile - the one he secretly took of you at the observatory.

Too conscious to think of a caption, he doesn't type in any, content to let the photo speak for itself.

Putting his phone away, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and falls into blissful slumber.

Ewan hadn't been aware of the phrase breaking the internet, and he's in for quite the rude awakening.

Even so, he doesn't let it faze him.

You're in shock when you discover the amount of comments under the photo, well past the twelve thousand mark when you wake up. Positive, negative, and everything in between.

Almost unheard of for an Instagram debut.

His reaction?

"At least everyone knows that you're mine now. What's wrong with that?"

You can vote here on the reader's hotd character name!

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @hotdismylife @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @dracaryxzs @aemondwhoresworld @aisselasstuff @onlyrealjoy (continued in comments)

The sad, angsty bits will be saved for the next proper chapter! What happens to Ewan's Instagram then? What happens to him?? 🥲💔

I was going to include the double date idea, but alas, my ideas ran dry.

I've got nothing but love for all of you that have followed this story to this point! If you've got scene requests, just let me know!

[gtgbabie0]

-Spencer Reid x reader

{Spencer hates waking you up for multiple reasons}

Super fluffy!! kinda suggestive at the end... kinda. Hope you enjoy as always my lovelies! 💕

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Spencer just can’t seem to bring himself to do it, he was meant to wake you up hours ago but each attempt was pointless, and you certainly didn't make it any easier for him. You look so blissful with your cheek smushed against the pillow, the covers wrapped securely around your shoulders and he refuses to be the one to disturb you from such peace.

Perhaps that’s why he tries to take a gentler approach, walking into the dimly lit room trying not to be too loud. He sits beside you on the bed, his hand soothing along your arm as he watches you stir from your sleep.

“Y/n? You’ve got to wake up baby” he whispers, brushing your hair away from your eyes and tucking it behind your ear, the back of his fingers grazing against your warm cheek.

You groan something completely incoherent as you tug the covers over your head and he chuckles softly at the sight, trying to pull the blanket back away from you. He would feel guilty about it, but the sounds you're making are far too funny.

“Come on baby, it’s almost twelve o’clock. You’ve had six whole hours of sleep” he says with a gentle tone, leaning to press delicate kisses against your shoulder, his soft lips trailing up to your jaw as he tries to coax you from dreamland.

You huff, mumbling something before turning around away from him. “Please Spence, just five more minutes… m’so tired” your voice is muffled by the pillows as you nuzzle your face further into the warm fabric trying to block out the sunlight that peaks from behind the curtains.

“You say, ‘five more minutes Spence’ but I know for a fact you won't get up” he teases, his hand continues to soothe against your back in an attempt to stop you from falling back asleep.

Spencer watches as you shoot him a glare from over your shoulder, biting the inside of his cheek, trying to stop the smirk that teeters against his lips, as you turn back around to face him. “Did you just mock me?” You feign offence, the teasing look that flashes through your eyes gives you away.

“Are you going to get up?” He ignores your question, instead, he leans down to press another kiss on your cheek.

“No” you mumble, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

“Come on, I’ll make you pancakes?” he smiles, leaning into your touch slightly as your hand moves to cup his cheek, thumb caressing the space under his eye.

“Hmm… sweeten the deal, maybe give me a kiss or two?” you whisper, noticing the blush that dusts against his face.

He watches as you sit up, letting the covers fall from your shoulders as he stammers out a small “Okay” when your hand rests against his chest, the feeling of his soft sweater under your palm seems to draw you closer to him.

You decide to push your luck further, “Maybe even take a shower with me?” Your chest blooms with proud warmth as his face reddens, letting out a breathy chuckle.

He wonders if you have even the slightest idea of just how much you affect him. Just how much he’s insanely in love with you. But the look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know, the way they seem to light up with nothing but adoration.

“Of course” he smiles, pressing one final kiss to your cheek before standing up from the bed. “Lunch first though,” he says, walking over to the door, trying to stifle his laughter as you throw yourself back onto the bed, groaning his name. He walks into the kitchen yelling out for you to get up as he begins preparing some pancakes.

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[tadpolesonalgae]

Sugar Daddy Azriel - drabble?

a/n: so, I have one or two requests in my inbox relating to this sort of dynamic--one I've never written before--so we're doing a test run with Azzie (since obviously they're all feysand-related)

Also I haven’t proofread this so apologies

warnings: uhhh dom/sub dynamics, sugar baby/sugar daddy-ish vibes, no use of Daddy but occasional use of Sir, oral (m receiving), I think we're getting bit of soft Dom Az in this, reader is a reader

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You jolt in surprise when you find him sat at the edge of your large bed, one he'd had made especially to accommodate him and his wingspan. "Evening, pretty lady," Azriel drawls, a playful smirk curving his mouth as hazel eyes trail your form.

You're wrapped in a red, blue, white, and dark green, horizontally-striped jumper that comes down to the tops of your thighs. It's baggy and has a wide neckline, showing off the line of your collar bones as it sits at the edge of your shoulders. Beneath are a pair of soft, navy shorts that only peek out from the hem of the jumper when you lift your arms a significant height, feet clad in thick socks that rise halfway up your calves, full and fluffy, and partially concealed by the chunky dark-blue slippers he'd bought you last solecist.

"Azriel?" You question, smiling despite knowing how odd it is that this is your kind of relationship - with him just appearing at intervals inside your home. Often with Things in tow. "What are you doing here?" You already know what he's doing here, or can at least guess from the black paper bag leaning against his side, printed with that distinctive white and gold monogram on the parchment.

Sure enough his hazel eyes glint, inclining his chin. "I think you know what."

"Mhmm? You got me something?"

"Maybe. Come closer. You can find out."

Your smile widens with fondness as you make your way across the rug you'd had imported from the continent, pausing between his long legs, a shiver of pleasure purring up your spine as he lays his broad palms around your waist, squeezing lightly with his thumbs as they stroke your sides. "Want to take a look, pretty thing?"

"Hmm? No viewing fee?"

"I'm feeling generous."

"Mhmm. Not at all keeping the mischief for later, no sir." He huffs a laugh, before nodding to the bag. "Just take a look."

Inquisitively you slide your fingers between the two trifolds, spreading them to peer inside. Your brows narrow, spotting the thick width of a book, but when you reach to pull it out a cool shadows slinks around your wrist, and he tuts. "I don't think I said you could touch, did I?" A smile curves your mouth, eyes bright and twinkling as you retract from the bag, turning your attention rightfully to him. "And what do I have to do to get my hands on it, sir?"

He scoffs. "You've done this more than a dozen times for me. You know what to do."

"But I want you to tell me," you murmur, lips still curved as heat simmers between your thighs. Azriel's mouth quirks to reflect your pleased expression, hand sliding upward. "Yeah? You want me to give you some orders to follow?" His thick fingers hold your throat carefully, flexing once so you can feel as he lays each digit to your skin. "On your knees, pretty thing."

"There's the Dom I know and love," you whisper against his mouth, before settling into position between his legs. Azriel chuckles softly, "you want a Dom tonight? Have you been good?"

"Perfect," you murmur, fingers already greedily untying the laces of his leathers. "I've been the best."

"The best?"

"Mhmm."

"Have you touched yourself?" You shake your head, halting once you've got his laces out of the way, waiting for the instructions. "Have you wanted to?" You nod, enjoying the heat of arousal that flushes your skin. Azriel raises a brow, his fingers stroking over your hair before lightly taking a section in his fist. "What were you doing when thinking about it?"

"Reading..."

He smirks. "Of course you were."

Arousal intensifies, but you continue to wait patiently, adhering to the unspoken rules. Azriel parts his thighs, lightly tugging on your hair to tilt your face upward. "Tell me why you wanted to touch yourself, pretty thing." You flush, teeth dragging over your lower lip before answering. "There was a scene, sir..." Azriel quirks a brow, a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lovely mouth. "A scene?" You nod your head, glancing briefly between his legs, un-wanting and unwilling to hide your hunger. "Eyes up here," he warns, bringing your gaze to his, "what scene?"

"I wanted to watch you read it," you admit, "to share it with you..."

"How sweet of you," he drawls.

"I thought you might like the ropes..."

Azriel chuckles, the deep noise licking between your thighs that you squeeze together. "My smart little reader's been nosing at some dirty things, hasn't she?"

"You'll like them, too," you argue playfully.

"Oh, filthy then."

You flush deeply, silently begging for him to give you the okay. His mouth curves and stark relief floods your system. "Open." He orders, and your lips part on command. His answering smirk would have had your underwear dropping to the floor had you been standing. "Be good," he goads, shadows pulling himself free as he carefully wraps your hair around his fist--for guidance.

You tighten around nothing as he pulls you forward, tapping his leaking tip against your lower lip teasingly, smearing the precum that had gathered there in a glossy mess, liking how it gleams on your mouth before slowly feeding you his cock. Moans are already aching to spill from your throat, but you have the feeling even if you allowed yourself to his cock would muffle them significantly. He's so big.

"There you go. Good girl," he praises, dragging you back by your hair, groaning when your tongue flicks out to deliver a small lick to a spot just at the underside oh his head. "Wicked girl," he amends, the groan hungry and guttural and not helping the gathering wetness in your underwear.

Azriel's mouth curves when he pushes you back down to his base, gently guiding your movements: up...and down...up...and down. "So filthy beneath that pretty exterior, aren't you?" He huffs a laugh that tails into a groan when you do something hot with your tongue. "Fuck. Not a single soul would look at my lovely little reader and think she'd be like this. So sweet on your outside, aren't you?"

Sweet on the inside, too, your eyes say when you suckle his tip, lapping up the leaking precum eagerly. Azriel grits his teeth, his breathing deepening and a flush colouring his cheeks...one that makes you want give him more. He twitches in your mouth, and you take him down your throat eagerly, an arm curving beneath his thigh to place your hand on his hip, wanting to touch more of him.

His wings shift on the bed, flaring wide then tucking in tight, his grip tightening in your hair as he bucks his hips, knowing you can take it. Scarred fingers graze your scalp, thumb stroking across your hair encouragingly, sensing the peak isn't far off now. "Gods, so sweet and filthy. And mine." He laughs when you whimper onto the thick length of his cock. "Yeah? You're all mine, aren't you? My lovely, sweet, thing."

You practically purr when he releases in your mouth, tongue swirling and mixing with his cum, a thrum of biological satisfaction shimmering through your body with sheer pleasure. He pulls tentatively at your hair, asking you to pull away, and you happily obey, keeping your mouth open and sliding your eyes shut as he finishes on your face. A growl rumbles from the back of his throat, panting with flushed skin as he looks down at you, thumb swiping at some of the milky liquid, chuckling when you lift from the ground to take it into your mouth, tongue eagerly licking over the pad.

He pulls you to straddle his lap, and you shiver as he kisses your face, cleaning you up of the mess he's made, occasionally gathering more on his fingers and letting you feed from it.

"Was I good, Azzie?" You murmur, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders--shoulders you've been thrown over more than a few times--curving your spine so your breasts push into his chest, soft and full. "So good, pretty thing," he whispers, lips curving as he plies the hem of your striped jumper down one side of your arm so he can lick and suck marks into you, trailing his way up to a space below your jaw, beneath your ear. "I think you earned yourself something extra."

"Something extra...?" His hand slides from your waist to your ass, pulling away lightly to glance down at your bare thighs, "are you even wearing shorts?"

"They've ridden up my legs," you argue, pulling the hem of your jumper higher to show the navy cloth. "I wouldn't have minded..." he drawls, hazel eyes flicking to yours as his hand slides beneath their waistband, squeezing your ass appreciatively, making you squeal and curve into him, laughing. "You're the filthy one, Az. Not me."

"Mhmm? So you weren't reading those books before you fell in with me?"

"I was..." you reply primly. Your thighs part wider, able to feel him against your centre. "I couldn't let you do all the corrupting."

"Uh-huh. Well, maybe what's in the bag will help with that."

"Can I touch now?" You smirk, clearly taunting him. Azriel grins, his eyes glinting. "Keep up with that attitude," he goads. "I'm sure it will land you in a good place."

You roll your hips to his. "Underneath you?"

"Keep it up and you'll find out." He lands a hard spank to your ass, smirking when you gasp, before nodding to the bag. "Take a look, princess."

You flush at the pet name, pulling the bag between you and pulling free the book. Your eyes nearly shoot out of your head, cheeks ablaze as you scan the bespoke design--the gold-threaded title catching your attention almost immediately. It's the dirtiest (and favourite) book you've ever read. You splutter, staring at him. "Wh- How?"

"Spymaster perks."

"That doesn't answer anything!" He smirks when you shoot him a suspicious glance. "Alright," he relents, "Helion has particular connections."

You shake your head. "That still doesn't answer anything."

Azriel smiles faintly. "Do you like it, though?"

That certainly gets you grinning, holding the thick book in your hands, tilting it back and forth so the thread catches in the light, glinting decadently. "Of course I like it," you mumble, flipping the book to trail your fingers admiringly down the ridges of the spine. "I love it." You glance up, meeting softened hazel eyes. "That's why you got it though, isn't it."

"Maybe I like seeing you contented."

"Maybe I like seeing you coming."

Azriel chokes on a laugh, large palm sliding beneath your jumper to stroke across the bare expanse of your back, hand shifting so his fingers wrap around your ribs, grazing the underside of your breast. "Maybe the feeling's mutual," he murmurs over your lips, and you feel yourself beginning to melt as his mouth slants over your own, his taste still prominent in both of you.

When he pulls away, he pushes hair from your cheek that had fallen from its place behind your ear. Your heart skips, and then you're opening the book, swiftly scanning the pages until you find the right passage. "As a thank you from me, and a reward from you..." You flip the book around, pointing to the section. "Can we try this, next?"

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes @kksbookstuff @feerique @ratgirl2020

[bitchlessdino]

put it in writing (m)

In collaboration with @camandemstudios Pairing: college student!seungkwan x Fem!TA!reader Genre: humor, smut Word count: 7.8k tags: college au, TA x student dynamic, push-and-pull, mentions of TXT's soobin, mentions of Ryan Gosling, a lot of fucking lying, explicit content, unprotected sex, hair pulling, cream pies, oral, cum-consumption, pet names (baby, good boy), praise kink Summary: You keep things professional--as you should--even if one of your students is someone you hooked up with one night before the college semester started. Meanwhile, Boo Seungkwan is anything but honest--he's a writer after all--but if he is honest about one thing, it's about wanting to write a new story with you. a/n: thank you @highvern @sluttyminghao and @strxwberry-skiess for beta reading <3 (late note: I wanna thank @gyuswhore @highvern and @haologram for the brainstorming if I forgot to mention anyone I’m sorry. They’ve been a really big help and we’re super motivating and supportive the entire process I love yall 💕)

You don’t go out. Period. As simple as that.

Until tonight. 

Summer is almost over, and once it ends, you’ll be Professor Yoo’s newest TA. You've worked hard to get to this point and despite the inevitable late-night grading sessions, you expect the experience to be rewarding and maybe even inspirational. You’re sure this achievement would make your academic-forward parents proud. Their daughter, at the top of her class, brimming with excitement and potential, jobs coming in from left and right, all while on her way to...a Writing degree. 

The one downside: they didn’t believe a writing degree would lead to anything substantial. Not like Biomedical engineering or Accounting. The one degree worse than Art. You almost forgot that writing was useless in their eyes because who couldn’t just pick up a pen and paper to scribble some words down?

You down another cheap shot of tequila, muttering your grievances under your breath as your friends revel in the club's pulsating atmosphere. They are only mildly concerned with your drinking habits, accustomed to your tightly wound, studious nature. Typically, you are the one buried in textbooks, rarely venturing into the party scene. Yet tonight, you surprise them all with your ironclad liver, effortlessly downing shots without a hint of a stumble.

“You, okay?”

You scoff, taking yet another shot, “Really depends what that means. ‘Okay’ as in life or ‘okay’ as in financially, mentally, emotionally, sexually, and-slash-or physically fulfilled with proud parents that love me unconditionally?”

“Oh, boy.” Hyeri tries to tear you away from any more alcohol and lays you flat against the back of the leather booth, twisting the top of a water bottle before putting it on your lips. “Let's get you hydrated, hmm? Can’t have you hungover the next day. I’ll be the one you’re complaining to.”

“Suffer my consequences!”

“Of course, darling.”

Hyeri, your steadfast friend since high school and now a new TA from another university, is like a sister to you. She knows your every habit and inclination, no matter how shit-faced you decide to get. “Don’t look, but there’s supple skin, high cheekbones, and a pretty smile looking directly at you.”

You subtly fix your gaze and accidentally meet the young man’s eyes as he nurses a highball glass between his lips. His eyes narrow back at you with interest. You muse back at him, mimicking his action with the water bottle in your grasp. As you drink with your eyes glued on his expression, the water passes over your lips, with the excess trickling suggestively down your chin and neck, your skin glistening in its sheen.

His lips part, dropping in a smug smile–and my, was it prettier than anticipated–and tilt his head as if quietly beckoning you closer. 

“I’m going over there.” 

Before you could get up from your booth, Hyeri is there to immediately tug you back down, eyes full of concern. “Are you sure, hon? You had quite a bit to drink.”

Your eyes crease as you smile back at her reassuringly. “I’ll be fine.”

“He looks young, he probably doesn't even know what a 401k is.”

“Do any of us?” You leave off before striding in the direction of the pretty boy, who still can’t keep his eyes off you.

You weave through the sea of sweaty bodies, sidestepping spilled drinks and the pulsating lights of the dance floor, your eyes locked on him. His gaze trails you with every step, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes, speaking to you like an incantation. When you finally reach his feet, the distance closing with each heartbeat, his smile grows wider, more inviting. The moment your legs brush against the softness of his leather couch, he leans to maintain your locked gaze, a now more playful glint in his eyes. Your smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Is this seat taken?”

“Only by you if anyone else asks,” he smoothly responds.

You gently lower yourself beside him, lifting one leg to cross it over the other, feeling the cool leather beneath you. His eyes follow your every movement, lingering on the curve of your thigh as it presses against the other. You lean in slightly, your curiosity evident in the arch of your brow. “Why all alone? With a face as pretty as yours, I’d expect someone to be all over you by now.”

He shifts his body toward you, his eyes drinking in your appearance, savoring every detail from the whip of your hair and to glitter on your legs. Meanwhile, the subtle spicy sweet scent of his cologne mingles with the ambient aromas of the club, and you can’t even breathe the air without the desire to jump his bones. Especially one in particular.

He regains his smile, a slow, confident curve of his lips, and extends a hand toward you. “I could say the same for you. I’m Seungkwan.”

You take his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch and the gentle caress of his thumb against your knuckles. With a graceful nod, you gave him a firm handshake. You return the gesture by introducing yourself, your voice smooth and inviting, matching the rhythm of the music that pulses around you, and that seems to only grow his interest. “What a pretty name. You’ve been here long?”

“Just long enough,” you say, your voice carrying a playful challenge.

“What is it that someone like you does to want to let loose in a place like this?”

“Mmh, I don’t know. It really depends on how much you’re willing to share,” you reply, narrowing your eyes and taking in that body begging to be undressed.

“Well, if you must know, I work somewhere…uncommon,” he says, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

You lean in too, resting your elbow on the back of the couch and propping your chin on your hand, your fingers lightly brushing your lips. “Do tell, Seungkwan.”

“Don’t be surprised, but I’m a bit of a big deal, especially around here,” he brags.

You raise an eyebrow, ready to bite. “That’s very vague. Mind elaborating?”

He briefly shifts his eyes to glance around the room, the smile never leaving his lips. He leans in closer, his breath warm and tickling against your ear, making it burn. “Just know I know the ins and outs of this club,” he whispers, his voice a tantalizing murmur. “Some information you might find even surprising that no one else knows.”

You pull back slightly, your eyes locking onto his, a spark of intrigue dancing between you. “Sounds like you’ve got some secrets,” you murmur, your voice low and rich. You reach for his drink from the table in front of you, your fingers brushing against his thigh for balance as you lift the glass to your lips. You take a slow, deliberate sip, not minding that its rim has touched a stranger's lips. “How sketchy,” you dare insult with a playful glint in your eye as you set the glass back down.

“Care to find out?”

“What part of ‘ sketchy’ did you not understand?” You softly laugh.

“I promise it’s harmless,” his voice brimming with mischief, poking the inside of his cheek playfully. “Or at least, you’d have a little fun.”

You hum amused. “Define fun.”

He takes you by the hand, his touch firm yet gentle, leading you away from the pulsating dance floor to a secluded corner of the club. The music echoes softly in the background, its bass reverberating through the walls. You follow him through a maze of dimly lit corridors and alcoves, catching glimpses of other partygoers lost in their own worlds.

The air changes as you enter an empty private space, cooler and quieter than the crowded main room. Your eyes fall on a single secluded corner with windows going ceiling to floor, flooding the room with skylight. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of alcohol and the crisp air of a cracked open window too high to reach.

As you settle into a seat in front of the windows, you observe the city through the crystal clear glass, drinking in the scene of small tables adorned with flickering candles, and erotic artwork adorning the walls. The music from the main floor is muted here like the world behind closed doors fell silent for this moment, and only you two are left in the room to bask in it. If temptation was room, this had to be it.

There’s a subtle shift in his eyes, a flicker of something unreadable—resembling pride—before they revert back to his calm suavity. He assumes the seat next to you on the plush velvet couch tucked into a private nook that touches the light of the stars. The soft glow of ambient lights casts a warm, intimate ambiance around you, contrasting with the pulsating beats of the club music that drifts in from the main floor.

“It’s a V.V.I.P area,” Seungkwan explains in a low voice, “Some of the employees don’t even know it exists.”

“But someone like you does?” you inquire, your voice tinged with intrigue.

He shrugs nonchalantly, a hint of pride evident in his demeanor as his body dipped into the leather. “I have my way around here.”

“Really?” you tease, growing slowly more convinced.

Seungkwan meets your gaze with a playful grin. “I obviously can’t tell you everything,” he says, his tone brimming with mischief. “Just know that I’m involved in ways that keep this place running smoothly. The club would die without me.”

You chuckle softly, savoring his playful confidence, and leaning against the cushions, head turned to him. “What can you tell me?” you ask, your voice growing softer. Your finger traces a teasing path down the collar of his shirt, undoing a button with deliberate slowness. “Humor me,” you exhale, your breath brushing against his ear and your gaze locked with his.

You can hear his breath hitch, and finally, you have him right where you want him. He fixes on the way your legs cross, tracing the curve of your calf up to where they disappear under the hem of your skirt. He seems momentarily captivated by the subtle movement of your flesh as they collide against each other, giving hardly any brain capacity to cumulate words.

You notice the furrow of his brow, a slight tilt of his head—as if he were mentally dissecting his thoughts. The dim lighting cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes tried to regain clarity. You can almost visualize the gears turning in his mind, each cog clicking into place as he forms a coherent story, if any.

Each word comes out in complete shambles and he is saying more nothing than anything. Whatever the truth is at this point, you don’t care. Seungkwan is just too cute to pass up.

The clearing of his throat tells you he’s finished, the tilt of his smile growing less confident and more anxious as your weight pushes against his chest. He tries to come back from his stumble, picking off strands of hair in front of your face and playing with their ends before changing the subject. “Now tell me your work. What is so amazing that you do?”

“I’m—“ a teacher’s aid in massive debt on their way to graduating with potentially a useless degree neither of their parents is proud of because, although you love it,  you’re too proud to say otherwise, “—a indie movie producer with one of the films up for a reward. Super lowkey right now, but…we got Gosling.” You shrug, impressed with your own lies. “So, things are looking up.”

“That’s quite impressive.” he hums, intrigued and interested in hearing about more. “Is he as nice in real life as he is in interviews?”

“Ryan’s got a screw or two loose, but pretty okay guy. At least not into Scientology or anything.”

“Interesting,” He gaze dips towards you, being drawn to you immensely, if not locking eyes with you, scanning over your features, particularly your lips that wished to be claimed. “You call all big-name celebrities by their first name?”

You shrug, the lying coming more and more naturally than anticipated. “Only the ones I’m close with.”

His palm hugs the curve of your cheek, thumb softly brushing against your bottom lip. “I wonder what getting close to you entails.”

“Are you planning on finding out?”

You give each other a long look, one that keeps waiting and ushering the other until your lips decidedly crash into his. His lips part, making way for your presence, the heat of the kiss flushing your skin and pleased shivers running throughout your entire body. Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth pulling your flesh and a soft sigh escapes his lips before his hand creeps behind your head and muffles a moan that neither were sure from who.

You lift your body from the couch, chasing his pace, and pull him closer, kissing him deeper with all your might. You crawl over his lap, straddling his hips, hands in his hair, breath on his skin. Your chest tightens as he presses you closer by the small of your back, to which you gasp as you part from his lips.

He finds your gaze, his round and glistening eyes meeting yours in soft urgency. “You okay? Something wrong?”

You shake your head, palm clasped against your burning face. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

He lets out an amused scoff. “Keep up, Miss producer.”

Your lips reconnect, and fireworks play in your like it’s the fourth of July. Popping and popping. Your lip lock only intensifies as your tongues brush against one another, entangling deeper and soon you realize Seungkwan wasn’t one just to kiss with his lips. 

You ball his clothes in fists when his hands use your hips, running them over his lap, the friction so tantalizing you could hear temptation like a devil on your shoulder. You let him take you, moving towards him replicating crashing waves against sand. Loud. Harsh. Seamless.

Clothes come off soon after, starting with the delicate unbuttoning of Seungkwan’s silk top–donning the torso of one fond of sports and sprayed in excitable perspiration–before then he levers you up and slides slacks down his thighs hurriedly. His bare legs crushed underneath yours, you readily pull up your dress, bunching at your waist as feel him unzip the back, the metal chill against your spine.

“Fuck,” he softly mutters, eagerly digging his fingers in your exposed flesh and whimpering against your kiss. “Don’t hold back with me.”

“Hold back?” you repeat with a chuckle, your fingers that threaded through his hair pulling his head back, angling his head so that he was forced to look up at you in what currently looks to be in awe. “You don’t have to worry about that with me.”

“Shit stirrer, huh? I guess that’s why you’re the one handling production.”

Your lips begin to trail down his jaw, front teeth nipping his skin. “Real question is, would you let me handle yours?”

“I’d let you do anything to me,” he mumbles, earnest in every word, every inch of his body vibrating off yours, including the hardening presence between his legs pressing against your stomach. “Just don’t stop.”

Your dress abandoned on the floor, Seungkwan claiming your tits in either hand, kneading them between his fingers as he’s rolling his hips against your plush flesh and feeling your radiating core slide against his shaft. He involuntarily moans through a bitten bottom lip, imagining you ride him just like this until the end of time, thinking he could cum from this alone until he feels you move the tip of his size towards your entrance. “Oh god,” he gives out, the head of his cock readily grazing over your slit, quickly pleased. “So fucking wet. Fuck…”

“I want you inside me,” you admit, not bothering to subdue your desires. “I want to put you inside me and make me feel every inch of you.”

“Fuck…me…” he presses into your skin flushed against one another, lips curled downward in impatience, gripping your full thighs to either of his sides. “I wanna fuck you so bad. Please give yourself to me.”

“You promise you’ll handle it like a good boy?” You tease, pushing his tip only a centimeter deeper.

“Please, please, anything. I just wanna feel that pussy choke me please.” He begs.

Your hand clamps against the couch enthusiastically, “Fuck you’re so needy. That’s so hot.” Gingerly, you reward his pleas, feeling his raw length make contact with your contracting walls, squeezing around his girth and making Seungkwan flip his eyes before he starts guiding your hips.

“Fuck that’s so good, baby.”

You lightly scoff. “Baby? A little soon don’t you think?”

“Thought we found some common ground when you decided for me to fuck you. My mistake,” he chides.

You catch a tendril of his hair between your fingers, “Maybe it’s how you fuck me that grants you such a term of endearment.”

“Better up my game then.” He lifts you up, tangling your legs around his waist before he pushes you on your back, swiftly slamming his hips against you.

Your head crashes deep into the leather, the musky scent of sex now invading your nose as you drown in heat. “Shit.”

“Making sure I get the advantage.” He folds forward to press against you, your breasts back in his hands before his lips wrap around a nipple, his tongue attacking your sensitivity before he inevitably sucks. He leaves you in an ache, your hips thrusting back into him conveniently in time for him to regain his rhythm.

“S-Seungkwan…”

His moan vibrates against your skin, teeth pulling your nipple as he thrusts deeper, grazing your deep end just perfectly not enough. Fucking tease.

You whine beneath him, squirming. Your legs tighten around him, attempting to make friction, and finding a growl in your throat as a hand of Seungkwan’s squeezes your behind. A whole ass cheek in the clutches of his well-groomed hands, squeezing and memorizing its swell, while he’s splitting you in half to deduce you to a bumbling horny mess.

“Where have you been all my life?” He mumbles with glee.

You clench your fists behind him as he heightens his pace, melting into the tender assault of his lips that burn your skin and silence your voice. He ruts into you deeper, pounding away his frustrations and when he makes it known he’s found your spot, you make it clear as day.

“Oh god,” you groan, gripping him tighter. Your jaw drops slack, silent screams coming out of you, and you cling to him like in desperation to maintain that high as you claw against his broad back.

“That’s so good. Is it right there, am I hitting your spot, baby?” he asks with an exhausted grin.

You nod, softly pleading for more, and he generously grants. In an attempt to intensify your core’s pleasure, his hand cups just above your slit, fingers finding your blossoming bud. Your breath is shot, feeling the caress of his thumb press down before rubbing your arousal around your clit. Your hips thrust into his touch, gripping him by the shoulders, feeling your combined sweat drip from your sides and squeaking against the couch fabric.

“Oh my god, oh my god…” You can’t control it anymore. Seungkwan isn’t just pushing you past the edge, he's shoving you off.

“Like that, baby. Yes, what good girl cumming all over my cock,” he sweetly praises.

You reach him by the back of his head and propel him forward, colliding lips in a fervent liplock. Your moans drowned between one another, your climax coming in tenfold as he didn’t for a second stop, even well after you came. 

Yet, it isn’t enough. Seungkwan shifts and tugs your legs to border his torso. He lifts himself from the ground, his feet flat, shutting your legs tight, having the sweat of your thighs chafe against another unsettlingly. It then becomes completely overlooked with his hips, his cock starts pushing in and out of you, and folding himself into you with your closed legs as your pussy choked around his cock. Your walls pulsating around him, hot and lush, he death grips your body and watches your flesh recoil back against him deliciously. 

“Fucking shit,” he groans, plunging deeper as your cries moisten your cheeks and he brings you to a foreign level of ecstasy. 

His release from what you can tell is thick, warm, and inviting. Your legs find a mind of their own when they decide to lock the stranger in place, feel every ounce of pure pleasure shooting down inside you, coating you in your collaborative efforts, and residing peacefully deep, deep in your sore heat. 

Your lover collapses against you, eyes barely managing to open as he guides your bodies in a more comfortable position, his cum and cock still inside you. 

He’s softly pant, red on every inch of his face, residual from his raging orgasm and…fluster? “I…I don’t usually—“

“I don’t mind,” you gently reassure, brushing away the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. “I wanted that to happen.”

“But what if—“

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” you hint and fortunately he gets the clue, cuddling up to you closer.

“Good.” He nods, sounding off in relief.

You play with his ear, thumbing over the flaming red tip. “That was really good.”

The boy can’t help but grin, “I make good on my promises…and if you want, we can do it again.”

Your movement stops. “Oh.” Now you’re panicking. “I don’t think we should.”

His cock slips out of you with ease at your confession, both flaccid and disappointed as cum drips down the leather. “Why not? I thought you liked it.”

You begin sitting up, taking Seungkwan with you. “Of course I do! It’s just…my schedule doesn’t allow me to date—let alone see people outside of work—so, this wouldn’t work.” You offer him an apologetic pat on the back, feeling the muscles pulse against you before you regretfully pull away. “This is actually my last night in town, I was gonna leave soon for another shoot…but this was wonderful.”

You cup his cheek, flushed red and soft as can be, and kiss its fullness, letting your lips linger. “I’m so sorry.” For absolutely lying about everything about me when you gave me the most incredible orgasm I’ve had in centuries and to myself for cutting lose the hottest fucking man fiction and nonfiction you’ve ever fucking met.

“No, I get it,” he answers, a hint of sorrow in his gaze. “You got things going for you. That’s ok. Just let me know when you’re in town, hmm? We can get together again, maybe?”

His sense of hope is admirable, something you saw in yourself a few years ago before the toppling towers of crippling debt fell on you. “I don’t think so, handsome.”

He sighs. “Alright. I get it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head with a knowing smile. “Don’t be.”

“You ended my vacation the best way you could’ve,” you egg on, “Couldn’t have ended my last night in town any better.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, finally a light flickering back in his eyes. “Then maybe I can give you a parting gift.”

You raise an eyebrow, following his figure leaving your body and find his knees back in the ground and between your legs, “Seungkwan?”

“Can’t have you leave a mess.” His hand glides over your thighs, gaze flickering from you and your cunt oozing in cum, and his full lips kissing your inner thigh, tingling legs and garnering goosebumps down your shins.

“Are you actually—“

His tongue scraps on the skin just next to your lips, a mixture of your climax settling on his tongue, and you mewl at the sight. He kneads your flesh, his moans tickling your skin and admiring it how he knew how: worship.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His fingers play against your sensitive folds, tension pressed on your clit. “You’re everything I could want…tasting you and pleasing you is the least I could do.”

His mouth wrapped around your lips before sucking, tongue parting what’s between, and sighing at the harmonious flavor dancing inside his mouth. Your worn walls contract around him, it feeds his desire as he pushes his face deeper inside you, and melts at your hands finding hair in soft strokes. 

Your voice aches for another release. The sensation of his jaw locking and nodding in your heat as his tongue fucks his cum back inside you drives you to up a wall. You squirm the faster he flicks his tongue, legs pulling back and forward, overwhelmed by Seungkwan’s mouth until he holds either one at either side, locking it around his neck.

His eyes ooze with determination and his face falls from color. The compromising position he put himself in is not one free consequence, but for the last single of the most greatest fuck of his life, losing a bit of oxygen was worth it, and his efforts are soon proven.

When you cum this time on his tongue, Seungkwan has never tasted anything sweeter, or rather bittersweet knowing this would be the last he’d get the chance to. He’s tasting you, savoring you, worshiping you. From the scent of your body, to the face you make, from what you feed him. If he knew how impossibly decadent you just were–only for you to leave–maybe he wouldn’t have done this. Or maybe he would.

Reluctantly, Seungkwan breaks apart from your lips to reconnect with another. One last shared, heated breath of this spontaneous exchange. One that he’d remember for a long time, and think about over long nights. Tenderly, your foreheads are the ones to kiss in a silent farewell, sad smiles on both your faces.

“Thank you…for reminding me what it feels like to live my own life.”

The pretty boy softly scoffs, kissing you once more, the tingle his lips lingering on yours. “Make your stories magical as you’ve made my night. Take care, Miss Producer.”

You quickly get dressed before the sexy stranger pulls you right back in his trace and you drag your friend and club attendee all the way back home, giving you the pleasure of finally resting in bed, body still aching from the sweltering sex hours ago. Sadly, without the warm body you enjoyed so much tonight. He made a lasting impression on you and you hope maybe one day on better circumstances you’ll meet again and the lie may someday be true. If you’re so lucky.

Eventually, summer takes its final laps and you’re entering the college semester and start working closely with the professor you’re aiding. The matter that your life is slowly being sucked away becomes more real the longer you look at his lesson plan and although you love writing, you know you’re about to dread the long evenings of paperwork to come. 

The first day of being a TA: get in the building by the car you have barely hanging on, meet with the professor, get in lectures and “TA”, skim through your new work for graduate classes, and sadly eat your late lunch/dinner alone because you know the ziplock of trail mix marinating in your backpack would not be enough. That’s the plan. Easy to follow.

Students start trickling into the classroom about twenty minutes before actual lecture time, some with nervous faces and excited expressions. Then a few minutes before the lecture starts, hoards of students are coming through, the classroom getting louder and louder as there is not enough space for white noise. You feel your heart beating increasingly–admittedly more nervous than anticipated–finding yourself focused on papers to avoid eyes with the other students until you can’t anymore.

With over 100 students, you start to feel like an imposter, a kid playing dress-up in her mom’s closet. Normally, you're not one to get nervous on the first day, but being a teacher’s assistant makes this situation different. You’re terrified of screwing up, whether it’s a big mistake or a small one. You tell yourself you need to get out of your head.

When roll call becomes necessary, the professor hands you the clipboard, forcing you to introduce yourself and make your presence known. Your hands tremble from natural nerves as you call out the names on the list, doing your best to pronounce each one clearly and coherently. Then your gaze lands on a name all too familiar, one that’s been on the tip of your tongue before. You can’t help but look up, eager to hear the voice that responds.

He stares at you, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, his lips curling up at the corners as his eyes gleam with intrigue—just like that night before.

You clear your throat, quickly averting your gaze, and resume roll call. You decide right then to ignore him for the rest of the day, the semester, and possibly the rest of your college career, if you can help it.

When you finish, you don’t dare look up again, telling yourself it’s because it’s the first day. You’ve done everything you needed to do for now.

As the lecture wraps up, it’s time to leave. The professor dismisses the class and exits the room, leaving you to pick up the pieces and answer any lingering questions from students. You just hope this particular student isn’t one of them.

“I had a question, Miss LN.”

You’re reminded that hope is just another word for wishful thinking. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. His voice is already etched into your memory, feeding the part of you that wants to respond, and you clench your thighs at the memory.

“Sure, what… um, what is it?” you respond, still not looking up.

“It’s about the syllabus. I was hoping we could discuss it in private?” His tone carries a hint of something familiar, something that doesn’t belong between a student and a teacher’s assistant.

“The syllabus is pretty self-explanatory,” you reply, trying to keep your voice neutral, though your pulse quickens.

“But I wanted to ask, just in case I misinterpreted anything.”

You make a show of straightening the papers on your desk, the crisp shuffle loud enough to make it clear you’re not amused. “You're a writing major. I’m sure you understand everything just fine.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to check,” he says, a casual shrug masking the intent behind his words.

You sigh, knowing you won’t easily shake him off. Finally, you meet his gaze, catching the anticipation simmering in his eyes. With a resigned breath, you gather your belongings and stand. “Fine, follow me.”

As you lead him to a tucked-away corner, your footsteps echo in the quiet hallway. You glance around to ensure there are no prying eyes before stopping. He waits until you’re both out of sight before speaking, his voice lowering in that familiar way that sends a shiver down your spine. “So, how’s the indie film coming along, Miss Producer?”

Your arms cross instinctively, a barrier against the playful look on his face. His eyes sparkle with amusement, as if this is all a game to him. As if your college career and your career career didn’t hang on the very balance of this conversation and your history. “Very funny,” you reply, glaring at him. “Just two big liars caught in their own webs of lies. How serendipitous.”

He chuckles softly, the sound unnervingly familiar and instinctively arousing. “I know why I lied, but why did you?”

You plant a hand to your chest defensively. “Excuse me, I never anticipated seeing you ever again. It’s natural I’d lie—wait, why did you lie?”

“To get laid. Duh.” He answers as if it was the obvious thing in the world.

You roll your eyes, back knocking against the wall behind you. “Of course, fucking dumbass college boys.”

“You fell for it, so who’s the dumbass now?”

“Still you? Were you even drinking age?”

“Uh, yes that’s how I got in, otherwise they never would’ve let me in.”

Your palm runs over your face in embarrassment, cringing for long nights of thinking of your student of all fucking people. “I fucking knew you didn’t own the Gemstone.”

“Yet, you fucked me anyway.”

You rush towards him, your breath catching as you pin your fingers in front of your lips and hiss, “Will you shut your mouth?”

He crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Why? You’re a TA, not a professor.It’s perfectly kosher.”

“It’s still highly frowned upon to fraternize in that manner, regardless of whether I’m a TA or a professor. I grade your fucking papers,” you shoot back, your eyes narrowing as the frustration rises in your chest.

He just shrugs, that infuriating grin never leaving his face. “Hey, if it gets me a good grade…”

“Or watch me fucking fail you,” you snap, stepping even closer, your voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you ever speak a word about that night again, got it?”

His smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, geez.”

“Good.”

But he can’t resist one last jab, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “My lips—and pants—are sealed.”

“Seungkwan!” You hiss his name, barely keeping your voice down, your cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and something else you refuse to acknowledge.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, it’s been a while since you screamed my name.”

You grit your teeth and speak through harsh whispers, your patience wearing thin. 

“I will drop-kick you if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

He grins wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leans in just a fraction. “Like I said, I keep my promises. See you on Wednesday, Miss TA.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, seething, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hallway. The air still buzzes with the tension between you, and you take a moment to collect yourself before heading back, wondering how you’re going to survive the rest of the semester with him in your class. If all your encounters are like this, you might as well quit now.

As expected, that initial confrontation isn’t the last you see of Seungkwan. While being your student, your forced interactions have become a bit of a spectacle among other students, especially considering Seungkwan stares back at you every lecture like you’re the only two people in the room. His routine of pestering during and after lectures has become something his peers have look forward to and you wonder if this kind of thing is normal for a teacher’s assistant.

It seems to have stirred up varying opinions, even among students from other classes—ones far removed from your department, who typically wouldn’t give a second thought to your work. The rumors have even reached the ears of other TAs, the ones you’ve built strong camaraderie with, turning casual conversations into whispered speculations. Some of those speculations have been harmless, fueled by curiosity and mild intrigue. But others? They’ve taken on more confrontational, and their tense gazes have you questioning just how far these rumors have gone.

But is it really a rumor if its all true?

"So, you and that Seungkwan kid, what's that about?"

You give a grand sigh, the weight of your colleague's curiosity pressing down on you as he peers at you, eyes alight with nosy mischief. His intent is clear—he's fishing for details about your relationship with one of your many students. But Seungkwan is different. Far different, even if you’d never admit that aloud knowing how your reputation would stand.

"Really not your business, bud," you reply, trying to keep your tone light, though it’s hard to miss the edge beneath your words.

Your colleague, Soobin, raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed by your attempt to shut him down. "Funny enough, I’m in the business of making things my business."

You scoff, fingers curling tightly around the handle of your freshly brewed coffee, the warmth of the cup your only source of comfort in this conversation. The rich aroma wafts up, offering a brief distraction. "He's my student, obviously, and he’s going to stay that way."

The words come out sharper than intended, the finality of your tone surprising even you. You take a long sip of the coffee, letting the bitterness anchor you. This conversation is tiptoeing too close to a line you’re not ready to cross.

Soobin raises his hands in mock surrender, though there’s a knowing glint in his eyes. "Okay, okay. No need to be so defensive. Good thing you’re keeping it professional."

"I know that. Why are you mansplaining, Soobin? Don’t you have work to do?"

"Of course. Just wanted to point out—it’d be a real problem if you did."

"Uh, yeah. Obviously."

"Good."

"Good."

"I just wouldn’t want to lose anything over it."

You narrow your eyes at him. "What now?"

He hesitates before continuing, grinning sheepishly. "Okay, okay. There might be a bet going around about whether or not you and that kid sleep together again."

"What the—again? Again? What are you talking about?" You gape at him, incredulity painting your features as you struggle to process his words.

"Oh, come on, don’t play dumb," Soobin says with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes. "Everyone knows."

You blink, your mind racing to catch up. "…Everyone?"

"Everyone." He nods emphatically, the corners of his mouth twitching as he takes in your stunned reaction.

Your face falls, and you run a hand through your hair in frustration, your shoulders slumping. "Well, fuck." The words escape you like a dismayed exhale, your voice tinged with disbelief.

"And I bet that you wouldn’t. At least, not until the end of the semester."

"You bet  money on me?" You’re seething, anger now directed at him.

"Not money," Soobin says quickly, raising his hands in a defensive gesture, as if to ward off any further criticism. He leans in slightly, his tone taking on a pleading edge. "But seriously, just don’t do it, okay? Be a good TA and a good friend. Don’t sleep with the boy. Just... don't."

You glare at him, incredulous. "I oughta do it just to make you lose."

"Please don’t! It wasn’t money I bet!"

You narrow your eyes further. "What did you bet, then?"

Soobin shifts uncomfortably. "Just... test answers."

"Soobin."

"Please! Just help me win this. I’m begging you!" Soobin’s voice is desperate, his eyes wide and pleading.

“You could jeopardize your scholarships with this kind of bet.”

“So don’t let me lose this one!” His frustration is palpable, his hands clasped together as if in prayer.

“I could just hit you,” you threaten, though the words come out more resigned than menacing.

“But I’m so lovely. Don’t you think?” Soobin’s attempt at levity falls flat, his forced grin barely concealing his anxiety.

“Soobin, this is seriously messed up.”

He continues, undeterred, “The money I could win could buy me a new apartment to rent out. I’d finally be able to move off-campus.”

“This is so fucked up,” you mutter, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I know, I’m literally on my knees here, dude,” Soobin says, lowering himself as if pleading for mercy.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to stave off the growing irritation. “Fine, damn it. Okay. I hope you’ve fucking learned your lesson and won’t pull this kind of stunt again.”

You meet his gaze head-on, your patience visibly thinning. "Are we done here?"

He nods vigorously, a small, almost imperceptible smile of relief tugging at the corners of his lips. "Of course."

As Soobin walks away, you watch him go, the remnants of the conversation hanging in the air like the fading scent of coffee. You take another sip of your drink, this time more deliberately, letting the warmth seep into you. You try to channel your remaining energy into something productive, determined to salvage what’s left of your day. The knowledge of the bet and the weight of your friend’s reputation hanging in the balance makes every decision weigh heavy on your shoulders.

Despite the sprawling campus and the vast number of students, gossip is as vibrant and pervasive as ever. Seungkwan doesn’t help matters, especially with the frequent discussions you’re having about his late assignments. No matter how stern and resolute your tone becomes, he meets you with a gaze that’s both wistful and enigmatic. His eyes, filled with a mix of wonder and intrigue, follow your every movement. They start by meeting yours directly, then drift downward, lingering on your face, then lower, then lower, and finally–

"Are you paying attention, Seungkwan? Or am I going to have to talk to Professor Yoon about you finally dropping the class?"

Seungkwan leans against the auditorium chairs, averting his attention to the sharp expression on your face, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "No, nothing of the sort, Miss TA. Please, continue to lecture me about what an awful student I am."

Your eyes narrow as you cross your arms, forward on your desk, tapping your foot with growing impatience as you shuffle through to gather your belongings. "I will—and starting where your assignments have been showing up several days late. I can’t keep making exceptions for you."

"Why not? You’re so good at making me feel special," he teases, head tilted, his voice dripping with a sultry sarcasm.

Your patience snaps as you sharply tap the stack of aligned papers on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. "Stop it, will you? Your grade is sinking fast, and at this rate, you’ll be repeating the class."

He shrugs, that maddening grin still in place. "Would that really be so bad? You’d get a whole new semester with me."

You scoff, standing upright, pacing a few steps as frustration simmers just beneath the surface. "Are you seriously going to waste your tuition money just to fail? At least pretend to make an effort. Chatgpt exists for students like you I’m assuming."

He tilts his head slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief. "If only someone wasn’t so distracting, maybe I could. You’d understand, Miss TA."

You stop mid-step, spinning to face him, your voice sharp. "Enough. And stop calling me that—it’s like you get off on it."

"Oh, I do." The playful tone in his voice is laced with something else now, something heavier.

Your jaw clenches, heat rising to your face, thighs sealed against one another.. "Your assignments. On time. By the end of this week, or I’ll recommend to Professor Yoon that you drop the class."

"Fine," he mutters, his tone nonchalant, the smirk still lingering lazily on his lips as he halfheartedly stuffs his books into his bag. His movements are careless, and a few sheets of notebook paper slip out, drifting lazily to the floor without him even noticing.

You sigh, bending down to pick them up. As you straighten, your eyes unintentionally flick over the handwritten lines—only for something to catch your attention. You freeze, blinking at the words on the page. "What the...?"

Seungkwan’s demeanor changes in an instant. His eyes widen, and he lunges forward, panic flashing across his face. "Don’t read that!" His voice is more urgent, almost desperate.

But you dodge his grasp, holding the paper just out of reach, your brow furrowing. "What is this? And why is it actually... interesting?"

"Give it back," he says, his tone softer, pleading now. 

"Why don’t you put this much effort into your assignments?" you ask, glancing up at him, your curiosity overtaking your frustration.

Before you can react, Seungkwan steps closer, his movements more deliberate this time. He snatches the paper from your hands, but his proximity catches you off guard. He’s standing close—too close—backing you into the edge of your desk. His face is flushed, his breath coming in shallow bursts, and you can see the embarrassment in his narrowed eyes, the tips of his ears burning red.

Your heart stutters in your chest, your breath hitching as the space between you seems to shrink. The air feels thick, charged with something you know too fucking well. For a moment, neither of you moves, your eyes locked like you’re frozen. You’re acutely aware of every small detail—the way his fingers clutch the paper tightly, how his chest rises and falls with each breath, the warmth radiating from him as he towers just slightly over you.

Suddenly, he stumbles, his foot catching on the leg of the desk, and you gasp as his weight nearly knocks you backward. Your hands shoot out, gripping the edge of the desk to steady yourself. Your glasses slip down your nose as you blink up at him, your pulse quickening, his face inches from yours.

"Sorry," Seungkwan mutters, quickly pulling away, flustered as he hurriedly gathers the fallen papers, stuffing them into his bag. "I’ll do the assignments. Just... don’t fail me. And don’t repeat whatever you think you read."

Without waiting for your reply, he storms out of the room, leaving you standing there, your chest heaving, the ghost of his presence lingering in the suddenly too-quiet space.

You try to steady your breath, ignoring how ragged it had become, and the unsettling way your blood pulsed—not just through your heart, but in places you'd rather not acknowledge. You forcefully push those thoughts aside, desperate for any distraction. Tonight, that distraction would be class assignments.

With an iced coffee marinating at the corner of your office desk, the papers in front of you blur as his face flashes through your head. You can’t help but recall the way his lips looked—full and slightly parted, the way his eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and something else entirely. And the warmth of him—how heavy and undeniably right he felt as he leaned over you, his presence lingering even after he was gone.

You shake your head, determined to refocus on grading, gripping the red pen a little tighter. But your mind drifts again, this time to the words you’d glimpsed on that crumpled page. The writing had a familiarity to it, something deeply personal that tugged at the corners of your mind. Reminding you of how much you remembered that night. Specifically how good that night felt.

‘Her whispers, haunting, breath heavy. She gazes at me with eyes full of want, strands of hair falling over her forehead, tantalizing and wild. Her cheek is warm beneath my hand as I pull her closer, our lips meeting, tasting the sweetness of something long desired but never claimed. For this night, she is mine—even if it's only for this night alone.’

Your cheeks flush as the memory hits, the realization settling in with a mix of shock and something you can't quite name. The words were unmistakable—vivid, intimate, dripping with a desire that mirrored the tension between you two. You recognized the inspiration behind them immediately.

He’s writing his own fanfiction. And it’s about you.

Suddenly, you’re not so much thinking about the bet Soonbin warned you about.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。NUMBER — SHIDOU RYUSEI.

✩ — contents ⋮ barista! reader, fluff, very annoying yet very sweet boyfriend shidou agenda <3 he’s so romantic in the most vein popping way <3

shidou loves to bother you at work, it must be his favorite pastime, you think—except now it’s starting to get everyone else at work invested too.

“oh. my. gosh,” you coworker whispers, swatting your arm excitedly, “there’s a guy asking for you—says you made his drink last time.”

“i make a lot of guys drinks,” you shrug.

“yeah but not for guys this cute,” she huffs, “i’m jealous. this is your chance, so don’t ruin it! maybe he’s good in bed too,” she wriggles her brows at you, making you scowl as you roll your eyes.

and then you see it—that mop of blonde hair with those pink ends, and you sigh in exasperation as you walk up to the register.

of course, it’s him.

“hello sir, what can i get for you?” you say monotonously.

“hmm,” shidou grins, tapping his chin as if he’s deeply in thought, “i was just thinking i’d get a drink from a pretty little barista. maybe even a number.”

from the distance, you can see your coworkers stop whatever they’re doing to stare—it’s not like it’s every day that someone this attractive comes in to flirt with a fellow employee. you can just about make out the jealousy in some of their faces and amusement in the others. one thing they all have in common, however, is awe—which you’re not too shocked at, shidou’s admittedly a handsome guy….if you look past how obnoxious he can be, that is.

“what drink would you like?”

“any is fine with me as long as i can get your number as an add on,” he grins, and it’s a wicked grin, really. it’s wide and smug and almost makes him look psychotic. you purse your lips as you shake your head, and distantly, you can hear your earlier coworker groan at your lack of enthusiasm for what you’re sure she’ll later go on to describe as the luckiest experience you’ll ever get.

“that’s not an option we carry here,” you squint, “you must be getting our menu confused for another coffee shop. maybe you should look somewhere else.”

“i don’t know,” he smirks, “i don’t think i’d confuse a pretty face like yours so easily.”

if anyone were to tell you, they’d say shidou ryusei is insufferable. you come to learn this is very true with every possible encounter you have with him, including this one. but there’s something a bit endearing about him, something that’s…dare you say, adorable, despite the way his words are sometimes crass and far from proper. and if the way he’s so persistent for your attention is of any proof, you’d say he’s a pretty determined guy—but you like to see how long you can keep him on his toes.

“i’m sure you say that to all the pretty faces you come across,” you say sarcastically, eyeing him as his smile widens and his eyes glint with amusement.

“nope,” he pops the p as he speaks, “you’re the only one. why, you jealous?”

“you wish,” you snort. “and i can’t give you my number, actually,” you say—and this time, it’s you with a smug grin, catching the eyes of your coworkers as they tilt their heads in confusion, “i have a boyfriend. so i’m afraid it’s simply not possible.”

“oh?” shidou drawls with a raise of his brow, “i bet he’s a loser. bet i could take him in a fight easily. if i win against him, you gotta let me move in with you—how ‘bout that?”

“he is a bit of a loser,” you grin, and anyone could make out the fondness seeping into your voice as your eyes soften at the idea of whoever’s got your heart. “but he’s my loser, so i’m afraid the answers still no.”

“sounds like you love him,” he presses, eyeing you expectantly.

“i don’t know about that one,” you giggle, “he’s still got to prove himself a bit more.”

“that’s harsh,” he hums, “maybe if you gave me your number, i’d prove to be better.”

“sorry, no can do—”

“just give him your number, already!” your coworker cuts you off and huffs, stomping her way over to where you stand. shidou’s got a cheshire grin on his face, eyeing her with that same look of amusement that makes you pinch your nose as you sigh. “you and i both know good and well you don’t have a boyfriend so do yourself a favor and just—”

“and how can you be so sure there’s no boyfriend?” shidou raises his brow.

you try, you really do—but you can’t help but finally crack. it’s a small giggle at first, and then it’s a fit of laughter that makes his eyes soften and his lips quirk into a lopsided beam that’s nothing short of lovesick.

“if you do seem to think there’s a boyfriend in the equation, why pursue someone then?” you coworker raises a brow, arms crossed as she challenges him, “that makes you a jackass, don’t you think?”

“easy,” shidou cackles, leaning in and pressing one, two, three soft pecks to your lips, making everyone gasp as you roll your eyes affectionately, “i’m the boyfriend. sometimes i like to keep the romance alive and fight myself every once in a while.”

“wha—” she’s left speechless, staring at him as she tries to comprehend what he’s just said with her mouth hung. shidou only mocks her opened mouth, and you reach over and swat his shoulder, making him snicker.

“that’s enough, ryu,” you warn—though you don’t sound all that serious. “i’ll be off in ten. are you gonna order anything or just stand there?”

“aw, c’mon baby. ‘course i am,” he pulls out his card, handing it to you, “i’ll take your favorite. you keep it though,” he winks.

“god you’re so annoying,” you mumble, but still, you don’t pull away when he leans for another peck on the lips, even as your coworkers chant a chorus of get a room from the back.

“see you in ten, baby,” he calls over his shoulder, walking off to find himself a seat as he waits for you.

yeah, you think, your coworkers are really going to be invested in this one.

he’s like…so very sweet and in love but in a very annoying and odd way. like he’d vandalize a building to spray paint your initials together in a heart or something

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman and Female Reader

Finale

Word Count ~ 3.3k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ fluff and smut, pregnancy

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl @kawaiichookie @vexillum-moeru @blackcurrant28 @r4yyyyy @dazedin2d @mrsspector-grant

The true name of your doppelgänger is crooned into your ear.

A sound that is strangely soothing, syllables slipping like water in a brook, a gentle rush of water.

You attempt to replicate the sound and of course it doesn’t come out right. He’d warned you of this. The human tongue is incapable of replicating the foreign language.

“Why do you have such an easy time learning ours and we can’t learn yours?”

He’s gone back to the human version of his being, the tired eyes of the milkman studying your frustrated features, his fingers stroking and smoothing away the lines creasing your brow and the corners of your mouth.

“The newness of it, maybe. Yours is a relatively young race.”

You prop your head up on your hand, dragging fingernails over your lover’s chest. “How old are you?”

“Me, or my species?”

“Both.”

He turns onto his back, nestling down in the pillows. “In Earth years….we have existed for tens of thousands of years. I’m a tenth of that.”

“You are not over a thousand years old,” you murmur in disbelief.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles softly. “You’re right, I’m not. I’m teasing. Sorry, love. More like one hundredth of that.”

“A century.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wow.” It’s hard to reconcile the idea. Despite whatever face he wears, you’ve always thought of him as near enough your own age. “An older man, huh?”

“Something like that.” He lifts the hand you have resting on his bare chest and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Is that okay?”

“It’s a little late to ask, but yes, it’s definitely okay.” You bend to kiss his mouth. “I really wanted to learn your name.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He worries his bottom lip, considering. “What if I tried to describe what it meant instead? And we discovered a language equivalent that was similar.”

“Alright,” you agree.

The milkman’s copy pauses, considering. “In Greek mythology, there was a name for something otherworldly that was borrowed from Latin, then later used to describe a kind of afterlife. Fields of paradise. An eternal resting place of bliss for the worthy. Elysium. But that notion of otherworldly is the best way to describe it. The original term is Elysian.”

“Elysian,” you try it out. It sounds nothing like what the alien had said earlier, of course, but the idea is there. “I like it. It’s pretty sounding.”

“Well, that’s it, then.”

“Elysian,” you repeat, bending to kiss his mouth again. He smiles against your lips. “You like hearing it, huh?”

“It’s pleasant, I’ll admit.”

A sudden thought occurs to you. “How do you know about Greek mythology?” You have never seen anything that indicated the milkman read classical literature.

The doppel clears his throat, looking a little nervous. “There was a professor.”

“Oh.” Of course Francis wasn’t the first human he’d ever cloned. “Did you…take him over, too?”

“No. Just replicated. Retired. Library at home.” He squirms a little, looking uncomfortable.

“Did you…” You don’t really want to give voice to the query. You’re not even sure precisely which it is. Kill? Consume?

“Sweetheart, please don’t ask me that.”

You swallow thickly. You forget, sometimes. Caught up as you are in how he is now. Denying what he used to be.

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t remember.”

“But you remember what you read in a book.”

The doppel sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “It was awhile ago.”

“Not who you were when you…Francis…”

“No.”

“How many? How many people have you…”

He sits up, and you straighten beside him. “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s not who I am anymore. What I am. You know that.”

“I know. I just…” Your voice trails off again.

“Listen to me, sweet girl. All that matters now to me is you. Keeping you safe. Making you happy. I love you.” He plants a kiss on your bare shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

“We should go to sleep. Work in the morning. And that damned box to deal with,” he mutters, leaning to switch the bedside lamp off.

You feel him lying down again and you snuggle next to him, your head pillowed against his chest, his arm curled around you. You’re wide awake, now. Questions spiral in your mind. “Elysian?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever miss your planet?”

“Maybe a little. I did. Not so much now.” His arm around you tightens.

“What was it like?”

“Very green. More of a tropical climate, I suppose you would say.”

“And you left because…”

“Food shortage.”

A brisk answer. You’re not going to ask what precisely the doppels consumed in their native location. “Have you been to any other planets?”

“One. Small. We didn’t stay long.”

Another ominous answer. Not enough to eat, perhaps? Did anyone ever properly repel the invaders? Or were they an unstoppable force, like a plague of locusts sweeping the land, consuming everything in their path, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake?

“What’s it like traveling in space?”

“So many questions tonight.” His lips press against you hair. “It’s indescribable, really. Beautiful. Vast. Daunting. Someday, I would like to show you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as you both mull over that prospect. You had never thought much about space travel. Had no real knowledge of astronomy. But the idea of exploring the stars with this creature by your side made you curious. What would it be like, to be so far away from the only home you've ever known? You feel the gentle rise and fall as the doppelgänger’s lungs expand and deflate and hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. You try to match his rhythm. A game you haven’t played since childhood. Facing off with a friend in the schoolyard. While cuddling with a parent at home. That is what he feels like to you. Home. How fiercely you want to protect him. You squeeze his shoulder.

“What happens when you run out of members of your squadron to send here for sacrifice?” You ask quietly. A concern you’ve harbored for a long time finally given voice.

“Let’s not worry about that tonight, okay? I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

“Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to be harmed, either.”

“I know, my love. Now try to sleep.”

You shut your eyes, thinking there’s no way you’ll be falling asleep anytime soon, only to find yourself proven wrong as you soon descend into slumber.

***

You awaken to darkness.

It’s early, dawn still a ways off. You reach out drowsily to find the doppelgänger sitting upright beside you in bed.

“Elysian?”

“There’s a doppel,” he says softly. “But something about it is off. I don’t…”

You’re instantly alert again, jerking upright, throwing the sheet off of you. “Where is it? Outside? On this floor?”

Had you let one in by mistake? Or was this some new intrusion?

“I’m not sure,” he replies distractedly. The weight on the mattress shifts as he rises, his face barely visible when he draws back the curtain to peer at the street below. “Not outside,” he declares. “Closer than that.”

Your pulse quickens. Inside, then.

“Wait there,” he advises. “I’ll go have a look around.”

You immediately disobey, sliding out of bed. You can’t just sit still waiting for whatever was going to happen. You pad barefoot out of the room, finding yourself in more darkness. Your fingers trail on the wall as you move forward, your feet leaving carpet and finding linoleum.

“Elysian?” You hiss, squinting, trying to detect him in the shadows.

“I told you to stay in the other room,” his voice growls from somewhere to your right. The living room. “It was gone, but now I’m sensing it again”

You bump into the couch, finally deciding it’s more of a hazard trying to find your way in the dark, invader be damned, reaching blindly until you crash into the lamp, nearly knocking it over before your fingers fumble for the switch.

Francis’ doppel paces the small apartment, even unlocking and cracking open the front door before shaking his head and shutting it again. His gaze meets yours.

“So where is it?”

He steps towards you slowly. His eyes widen. “Is it possible…”

“What?”

“Sweetheart.” He stands before you, laying a palm on your abdomen.

“I’m…”

“Carrying my baby. Our baby.” His other hand cups your cheek tenderly. “We did it, my love.”

He gathers you against him, his face burrowed into your neck. Wet. He’s crying. You’re crying, too. Weeping. Relief. Joy. A new kind of fear. Maternal instinct kicking in already.

You had to protect your unborn hybrid child.

***

There’s no sleep to be found for either of you now.

You’re cuddled on the couch, wrapped in Francis’ bathrobe, the doppelgänger’s arm curled around you protectively, waiting for the new day to begin.

“I’m afraid to make an appointment with the doctor. I should go, but…what if they find out?”

“Best not then, love. Just to be safe. You should talk to your mother. Whatever you need to be doing, what to expect…”

You nod. “We need to get married as soon as possible.”

“You’re already my wife in every way that matters, but yes, we will. Very soon.” He pauses. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I know your reasoning behind it, but I think you should stop working for the DDD. Especially since we’re moving into your house together. There’s no reason for either of us to be anywhere near here anymore. Let’s go, sweetheart. Leave this behind. Start over. Begin our life together properly.”

“Let me give a notice. Finish this week, and the next. It’s just how we do things. Allow them time to find a replacement. We still have the box to deal with,” you remind him.

“Then you’ll leave the DDD?”

“Yes, I’ll leave.”

He sighs heavily. “Thank you.”

“What time do you think it is?”

“Maybe three? I left my watch in the other room. Can’t see the clock from here,” he murmurs against your cheek. “We still have time.”

“I was thinking we should go downstairs. Tamper with the device right now before the sun even rises.” You lean back to look at your lover. “They’ll keep working on it. There’s no guarantee they won’t succeed again. Or find another means.”

“I know. But that won’t be your fight, love. That’s for someone else to worry about.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Yes,” he admits. “More than I ever have been. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it. Our baby is worth it.”

***

The director of the DDD requests an exit interview with you.

Really not a request, more of a requirement. You’re not entirely surprised. You didn’t think you’d escape quite that easily.

It’s been a little over a week since you and Elysian sabotaged the anti doppelgänger frequency box. Lying about the results on the survey after the allotted trial period. A temporary solution to a larger problem, but at least your doppel was safe for now.

And your baby. Your half human, half doppelgänger child nestled in your belly.

You try not to rest your hand on it as you sit before the stern faced man’s desk. Of course there is nothing visible yet, your stomach still flat, but you’d already grown accustomed to touching there. You force your hands to meet and fold together in your lap, your head bowed slightly, the very picture of meekness and subservience that seemed so favorable for women of the time.

“You’ve submitted your two weeks notice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the reason for that is?”

“I’m getting married. Ready to settle down, start a family.”

He grunts. You can’t tell if it’s approving or not. “People don’t often leave the DDD. Not voluntarily,” he adds.

“Yes, sir. I’m aware. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I feel it’s the right one.”

“Not going to be easy to replace you. Not if you gave two months notice, let alone two weeks,” he admits grudgingly. “The DDD thanks you for your service. I’m certain you’ll still uphold the tenets of the cause, even if you’re no longer formally employed by us.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The middle aged man begins to slide a document across the desk towards you after signing it and stamping it with the official seal, only to halt at the last moment, staring hard at you. Your eyes lift to meet his.

“I understand there’s a new vacancy in that residence now. Another rare occurrence.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“The milkman that was missing that day of your…indiscretion. Francis Moss, wasn’t it?”

“Mosses,” you correct, then wince internally.

“Yes. Him.”

You remain silent, your hand still stretched out, reaching for the paper. Your heart thuds in your chest. Please, just let me go. Please, please…

You suddenly have the document clutched tightly in your hand. He was letting you go after all. Freedom. You force yourself to walk from the room at a dignified pace, the paper carried in front of you like a shield. When you exit the office building your tense, rigid posture relaxes and you heave a sigh of relief. Another challenge overcome on the road to forever with your doppel.

***

You love coming home to your fiancé.

Seeing his delivery truck in the driveway. Soon you’ll be the one welcoming him inside every afternoon. But for now, he’s the first one to your inherited farmhouse, waiting for you on the porch he’d raced up to kiss you all those months ago, gifting you a taste of new rain and the smell of fresh petrichor.

“How did it go?” His tone is casual but you know better, seeing his white knuckled grip on the railing.

“I’m free.” You wave the letter in the air and he snatches it from your hand, hurriedly scanning the words.

“You really are,” he murmurs, looking bewildered and relieved.

“That doesn’t mean they won’t still be watching. But for now, for now…”

He smiles at you, one arm wrapping around your waist. “Should we celebrate?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully, his lips brushing your ear. “Come inside with me, love.”

***

There are little details of the house that bear traces of Francis Mosses, now. The crocheted blanket rests over your couch. The portable record player has a permanent home in your bedroom. The dresser hosts a collection of your doppel’s things: a belt, cologne, some spare change, a wooden handled hairbrush. There’s a shirt that needs mending hung on the post at the end of the bed.

“I’ll fix this later.”

“Mmm hmm.” His eyes never stray from your face. You sit on the edge of the bed and he kneels in front of you, sliding each shoe off, caressing your calves. You sink a hand into his hair, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead, inhaling his scent. Notes of bergamot, the clean citrus in his cologne. Your shampoo now in his hair. Strawberry. Everything a combination of you two. Already joined in so many ways.

His hand cups one knee, his palm warm and comforting over the joint. He slides it inside, stroking under your skirt, creeping between your thighs. He nudges at the clothing that is your work attire, shoving impatiently to gain better access. You accommodate him, pushing yourself back until you’re lying horizontally across the mattress, your skirt now rucked up around your hips, the doppel’s fingers dragging your panties out of the way.

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart.”

He’s on his hands and knees above you. You work on the fly of his pants. Your haste makes you clumsy. The metal teeth of the zipper catch on the fabric of his pants. He shakes his head, laughing softly, the sound turning to a growl when he struggles in your wake. It finally gives and he lowers himself down, guiding his cock into your entrance.

You gasp and his mouth crushes yours, swallowing the sound.

His hips press yours and you’re thinking of the nearby field with its fading summer flowers. That’s where you want to be wed. Here beneath the open sky, in this sanctuary of yours. You whisper it beside his cheek and he draws back, looking at your features. “Is that what you want, love?”

“Yes.” Your rock your pelvis against him, your legs wrapping around his body. “Elysium fields with my Elysian…”

“I love you,” he breathes. He thrusts and it hits something tender inside, the aching place deep in the hollow. Your fingers tangle together. Hot inside you. Something molten in your core. You’re melting. Clinging to him. The world shatters, comes back together in little pieces. Tired eyes gazing into your own. Soft smile.

***

You’re still tangled together.

Bodies intertwined. A comforter thrown over you both to ward off the chill of the oncoming autumn night. You’re discussing possible baby names again. You like the idea of something celestial. Named for the sun or the moon or one of the countless stars above. A constellation, an outline of a portrait when they arrange themselves just so. A planet, a galaxy. Infinite possibilities.

“It reminds me of a song,” Elysian murmurs. You’ve been taking turns tickling each other. You were losing horribly but determined to get revenge, making another attack along his unprotected ribs. He remains stoic and unresponsive despite your best efforts.

“What song?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully. “In Other Words, I believe it’s called. How does it go?”

Fly me to the moon

And let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On-a Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, darling, kiss me

Your heart lurches. It’s the melody. The one Francis used to hum. The replicant notices your teasing fingers grow still and he stops singing abruptly.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was the song. The one Francis used to hum all the time.”

“Oh, love. I didn’t realize…”

“Of course not. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Your eyes feel a little full, tears brimming.

“I know you still love him. I wouldn’t ask you not to. That wouldn’t be fair.” He drags a thumb across each cheek, close to your lashes, collecting the salted liquid. “He’s always going to be present in some regard. But I can’t resent him. I have to love him a little bit, too. Because he brought me to you.”

“What if I’d called the DDD that day? What if…” More tears escape. You’re suddenly overwhelmed. If you’d contacted the disposal team and destroyed him, this person that has become your world, created a new life with you…This song was what had finally swayed you. Another gift from Francis.

“Sweetheart. You didn’t. You let me into the building. Into your heart. There’s nothing there to be sorry about, from your perspective anyway. If I had to choose again, I would not see you hurt, I would not want to take him from you, but love, how could I ever give you up? I can’t. I could never. You’re carrying our future. You’re my forever.”

His lips graze yours. Your fingers curl around the back of his neck, drawing him more firmly against your mouth. “Sing the rest for me. I want to know all the words.”

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing forever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you

“I love you.”

You’re joined again. Hips and hands and mouths.

Maybe one day in the future you will be brave enough to travel with the alien into space. Explore the wonders of the heavens with your children by your side.

For now, you are content in this bliss on Earth.

[suguru-getos]

| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 7 |

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna. Perhaps an emotionally stunted softie who can’t communicate after used to being worshipped by everyone?

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: With the School festival coming right up the corner, your class choosing the Maid Cafe and you dressing up as a Maid. Satoru has to pull a few strings of his own. He may not be your bully anymore, he still is a spoiled boy who wants what he wants.

Between the haze of studies, and the workload because of the festival preparation, two weeks had passed. Satoru? Yeah, Satoru has gone more and more normal you'd say. He doesn't bother you apart from the occasional greetings. Sometimes he would smile and wink at you during the cafeteria where you settle with your friends; they are enamoured by the snow-haired king of school. Both the best friends, Satoru and Suguru are so sought out, you are worried it would end up in you getting into trouble because of it. Satoru is hell-bent on giving you the attention you don't need. You don't wish him good morning upfront when you accidentally catch him in the corridors, he does. Never failing it even once. The people who hang out with you have started to taunt you because of it.

"If it was up to me, I would have also spilled my lunch on his shirt. Maybe then he would notice me like he does, you, Y/N." Your eyes roll back a total of 360 degrees. This, this very behaviour was the reason Satoru was able to humiliate you so many times. The reminders aren't needed. The brutal reminders of you wishing you had no school, of you wishing that maybe he would have a change of heart and leave you alone. All because you said he collided against you purposely. Insufferable, Satoru Gojo was truly insufferable.

The cafeteria was echoing with the whispers, laughs, and discussions of your classmates and seniors alike. This was supposed to be festive time of course. Everyone was busy with something. As for you, this was your break. You had just finished giving your sizing for the maid costume. You hope it would look good on you at least, and you would get some memorable pictures. The thought of the School Festival commencing soon makes you giddy. You're not one of those emo loners anyway, you'd rather enjoy. "Hello Y/N san." One of your classmates diverts your attention, your gaze wanders up at him, reflexively shifting in your bench with the tray of your food so he could sit next to you. "Hello!" You chirped, watching him glance at you in a weird way, what's so weird about it? Well, Satoru looks at you the same way, as if you were a movie. You gulped, the stare was awkward. "So, what did you need?" You asked, raising an inquisitive brow. "Uh, nothing, just wanted to ask if you would participate in cooking as well? Some of the girls have been given the opportunity to dress up as maids, the others are going to be cooking." You think about it, this was pre-decided that you would be wearing a maid-costume. When the discussion happened, you were chosen pretty easily for the same.

"Hmm, I don't think I'm a great chef to be honest." You half chuckle, shrugging. The boy nods, gnawing at his lower lip. He seemed, almost nervous. As if he didn't know what to do if you didn't agree with him. "Why? What's the problem?" You asked again, trifling with your food now that your curiosity was piqued. "N-Nothing as such, it's just, you know Y/N there are going to be people from different schools, seniors- and I don't want anyone to hit on you." His cheeks are beet red when he says that. You raise a brow, you don't know how to take it. "Uh, thanks? I can take care of myself. Didn't take me much time to knock a shitty senior out in this very cafeteria?" You lean back, observing his face. He was looking more and more nervous by the passing minute. What is going on? "You know, I appreciate whatever you thought about me, but I can handle myself and take care of myself. Anything else?" You asked politely, unsure why you are being talked-to like you're a damsel in distress who wouldn't be able to take care of herself from hormone raging teens. "Sorry." He pouted, looking down. "I know it must sound like I am trying to control you - but you should remember I only want what's best for you." You want to puke, you barely know the dude. "Do you have a crush on me?" You cut to the chase, this was getting redundant/ "Who? ME?!" He exclaimed, leaning back, stuttering, "N-No of course- I mean, no- not like- Y/N you are pretty." "Thank you, I'm assuming you do have a crush on me?" He shakes his head no, timid again. "I don't want to die by the hands of Gojo san if I become brave and do agree."

Ah, there it is. Gojo San coming and looming in all over you again. "I understand, so you mean he likes me and he doesn't want anyone else to like me else he'll beat their ass?" The boy looked conflicted, should he? Really tell about all that? He wonders about the pros and cons - beaten up by Gojo to a pulp versus being your friend.

"Y/N, please don't discuss this with him." He begs, eyes pleading submissively. You roll your eyes and sighed, fine - you will keep your mouth shut about it. "Yeah, I promise. Won't share anything won't confront him, never heard of it." "He- uhm, ever since he knows that our class is going to do a Maid-café, he's closely supervising things with Shoko san & Geto san." "I never saw him? What do you mean? I never saw him come and check things?" You raised a brow, you were so sure his chapter was a closed one. You barely talked to him apart from having casual small-talk where you both don't ignore each other's existence. "Well, he did. Mostly timed when you were busy, he decided the menu, he interfered with the maid costumes. When everyone was against the long skirts and the full sleeves he threatened that he would have our class not participate at all. When we asked him what we could do so he could let us have some freedom to organize 'our own' activity - he mentioned he doesn't want you as a maid." A broken sigh escapes your classmate when he's done confessing.

You were.. fuming to say the least, every nerve ending pumping with boiling blood. So he is going to make everyone else suffer because he can't have you in a maid costume? "Then?" You raised a brow, this wasn't any conclusion. "Then I said I could talk to you about it, you're pretty and we hoped we would make a lot of money if you were to participate but Gojo San said he could cover the monetary side of it without any issues. Which left us with one final option, you could either opt out of being a maid, or we don't do it."

Ridiculous, fucking ridiculous.

"Why?" You snarled, what the fuck? "Well, because- as he said, he doesn't want other 'men' to look at you and create all sorts of scenarios in their head. He will have to take things on his own hands when that happens - and he wants to avoid that. I mean - avoiding beating up boys and ruin the festival." "Oh how kind, Gojo San is so kind, no?" You scoffed, sighing. Your classmates depended upon you, and you were once again caught in a clutch by Gojo Satoru. He gets what he wants doesn't he? "Tell him that I will be doing maid. Tell him to die mad about it." You got up, hearing the sound of the lunch-end bell and stomping away.

------

Gojo hasn't come back to you, it's been two days. You are sure your classmate had communicated everything to him clearly. Weird. This dude was so fucking weird. You are taut by your own promise to him though, you wouldn't talk to Gojo about it and risk the very foundation with which he trusted you. A lot has been on your mind since, if he likes you, he has no idea how to show it. Besides, doesn't even… matter if he likes you or not. You wouldn't forgive him… right? "Come on, don't be so pouty just because you're losing!" You heard his familiar voice from the basketball court. "Your glasses aren't working properly if you think I'm losing." You heard Geto remark back. Basketball, Satoru and Suguru are playing basketball. You didn't want to be a lurker but you do peek inside, watching the tall hunks play around alone. Every thud of the ball, every chuckle, every snicker and every goal sounding evidently in the echoes of the empty hall. "Peeking's no good." Satoru smirked, looking at you. You have no idea how grateful he is right now. He caught 'you' looking at him. "Sorry-" You mumbled, clearly accepting your mistake when you are at fault, unlike the fucking cafeteria incident. You were NOT at fault back then. "Whatcha lookin' for?" Satoru asked, playing with the ball and dribbling it while walking towards you. "Nothing, just got my 'final' maid costume." You answered, eyes trying their best not to glare at him when you say so. He hums, "Yeah? Gonna be a maid I hear." He cheekily grins. He heard… as if he doesn't know the bits and pieces of everything minutely already. "That's right, 'very excited' for it." You emphasize, and his eyes visibly softened, the pupils humanly dilating and a soft hum escaping him. "Mhm?" "Yeah" You grin back at him, unsure how to continue the conversation further.

Satoru was, dying. He didn't want to become what he was when you two met, and the way you said you were excited about it, he doesn't want to rip that all off because of his own spoiled wishes. It's a complex web of thoughts. On one moment Satoru wants to claim you as his; no one is even allowed to think about you wrongly. Keep you enclosed with him, marry you even? Breed you so you know you're his. Make babies so he gets a perfect blend of you and him. The other bit of him, wants to let you live so he can hopefully become a safe space for you. Help you trust him which he has ruined, show off the person he likes- loves- he doesn't know whether it's like or love yet.

"Well, I'll see you around." You distract him from his thoughts instantly. His lips part and brows furrow a little in resistance, "Well- shyeah."

He glances at Suguru once you leave.  You're going to be a maid and he wouldn't be able to do 'anything' about it when that brings a smile like 'that' on your face.

[misserabella]

Hi pookie can u please write aftercare with Ellie or Abby?? Maybe like after really intense sex..?

aftercare with abby and ellie!

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, mentions of sex, cum eating, slight fingering and oral sex , lots of fluff, kisses, hickeys, cuddling…

ellie

after really intense sex ellie wouldn’t stop teasing you, spreading the spit that drooled from your lips across your lips before kissing you.

“aw. you look so cute all fucked out.” your lips would open for her thumb as she’d push it inside your mouth, your tongue circling it. “can’t even speak, huh?” you whimpered. “you just stay there all pretty for me, hm? i’ll be right back.” you’d wait for her as she would make her way to the bathroom for a warm wet cloth. she’d then part your thighs, cooing when you’d whine due to the sensitivity of your swollen clit. “i know baby, i know, all sensitive f’ me, hm? fucked you so good it’s all raw and swollen now…” you’d moan as one of her fingers would push inside once again, scooping out the cum stuck inside of your pussy. “gotta make sure to clean you all up, angel. isn’t that right?” and you’ll let her, even when she’d slowly trail down your body to eat it out of you. of course, she’d be kind enough to not make you cum again, knowing it would be too much.

“els…” she would hum still in between your legs, lapping at your slick. “kiss me, please?” you’d mutter. and you knew your girlfriend was a tease, but she too was a loser for you, so she’d quickly push herself up your body to give you what you want. you sighed at the feeling of her tongue pushing inside your mouth, her hands quickly finding your naked body to feel you up. you laughed as her touch tickled you. “ellie…” she hummed again, smiling against the skin of your neck at your laughter, leaving soft pecks over the bruises she had made just mere minutes before. she hugged you, crushing you in between her arms. you pulled from her hair to kiss her again.

“hmm, you should definitely stop that.” she muttered against your lips, her thumb rubbing circles on your hip. you caressed her hair, making it more of a mess than it already was.

“ ‘m not doing anything.” you smiled.

“you know what you’re doing. stop making me want to fuck you again, sweetheart. don’t want to wear you out.” you blushed, and she kissed you again, the two of you smiling against each other’s lips.

once she let go of you, you reached out for your clothes, discarded all over the bed and the floor, but she stopped you.

“what are you doing?”

you frowned. “getting dressed?”

“don’t. they’ll end up being a bother in the morning.” you flushed and she smirked.

“you idiot.” you hit her shoulder, and she took your hands and pushed them over your head.

“your idiot.” she corrected before kissing you.

that night ellie held you tight against her chest.

abby

i feel like abby would be all kisses and cuddles after really intense sex. she could be rough sometimes during sex, but it’s when she sees you completely fucked out, eyes all droopy and glassy that her heart softens.

“so beautiful…” you’d hum against her lips, as she pecks them over and over again, hands soft and thumbs caressing your hips, which have purple marks of her fingers.

she’d be so gentle. cleaning you up, scooping you in her arms to get you to the toilet so you could pee. standing on her knees to watch you, a soft enamored smile on her lips.

while you rest on the toilet, she’d get everything ready for a bath, warming up the water, getting the two of you towels and a change of clothes. she’ll make you jump on her to get you both into the tub.

abby would be the kind of girlfriend to gently shampoo and wash your hair, massaging your shoulders with your body fruity soap. you loved it when she’d be so attentive. of course you’d do the same for her. what would leave the two of you having a little water fight when you’d splash her with the warm water.

she then would dress you on her clothes; on her boxers, one of her large shirts and a sweater for you to not get cold, making you laugh at her constant kisses.

“abs stop!” you’d giggle, trying to stop her from kissing your neck since you were ticklish as she delicately brushed your hair.

“sorry baby. it’s only that you look so cute with my clothes on.”

then, the two of you would be back to your shared bedroom and you’d call out for her,

“abby…”

“what is it baby?” she’d hum once the two of you are dressed and back on bed, her arms warm around you as you buried your face on her neck, taking in her pine scent.

“can we watch grey’s anatomy again?” you pouted, and she smiled, pushing away from your face a couple of hair strands that hid your eyes.

“of course, princess.” she left a soft kiss on your forehead, grabbing the remote to turn on the tv. “season 1?” you bit down on your lip with an exited smile, and she laughed.

“i love you.” you said, and she looked at you, hugging you closer.

“love you more, baby.”

she’d wait for you to fall sleep, making sure you’re properly tucked in before falling asleep with you, muttering cute things to you. “good night, princess, love you.”

the next morning? you’d get breakfast on bed. and maybe you’d end up being hers.

-

change my mind! ☹️

i love both of them. but i for sure know abby would be such a sweetheart.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 10

part 1 | part 9 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

When they get to Eddie’s trailer, Steve’s mom is sitting on the couch, eyes unblinking as she watches the TV.

There’s just static on the screen.

“Steve?” she slurs when she finally realizes they’re there. Sways a little when she stands. There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, a blank look on her tired face: agreeable but distant, a smudge of campfire smoke curling far over the trees.

Double-dosed her pills again. Jesus Christ.

“Oh, Stevie, baby, it was just awful.” She reaches out for him, and he wishes he could find comfort in the way she cups his elbows with delicate hands. Wishes he could lean into her touch and offer comfort in return, but her tone is so dull and mild that bile rises in his throat. Chemical calm bullshit, and Steve has had enough.

“Ma, just…” he sighs, shrugging her off. Scrubs a hand over his face. Too young and too old for this. “Just go home, okay?” The street is quiet again, all the neighbors tucked back in their houses now that the show has run its course. He doesn’t think anyone will notice her stumbling across the road. “Get some rest. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Sure, baby.” He leads her to the door, and she turns there on the threshold, eyes glassy and unfocused; looks through him like he’s a ghost. Then her gaze shifts around the room — the hats, the mugs, the clutter; the lived-in explosion of color that Steve’s annoyed he likes so much — like she’s just seeing it all for the first time, and absently, she murmurs, “This place is dreadful, isn’t it?”

“Mom.”

“Hmm?” she asks, but she’s already drifting out the door.

Steve’s face is on fire. He stands there for a moment, just staring dumbly out into the dark. What the hell is wrong with her??

Behind him, Eddie snorts. "Oh, she’s on the good shit, huh?”

Steve whips his head around. Eddie’s eyes are full of mirth, his dimple peeking out, and it startles a laugh out of Steve. He thinks maybe he’d take offense if he weren't so busy being mortified.

But also, like.

It is a little funny.

Or maybe it’s so unfunny that it circles back around.

“Jesus, man,” he huffs, “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t know why she…”

“S’fine,” Eddie says with a casual flick of his wrist. Seems like he means it. He rocks back on his heels, hands in his back pockets, just sort of eyeing Steve up. Assessing. Running his tongue over his lips. They're big, for a guy's. “…You want a beer?”

“Fuck.” That sounds so nice. “Yeah. Please.”

“Have a seat.”

Steve takes the offer when Eddie nods at the couch, too tired to do the whole song and dance of ‘oh heavens no, I couldn’t possibly impose.’ Who’s got the energy for that?

The couch is old. His skull thuds against the un-cushioned back when he sinks down into it, but he’s too tired to care. Worn out as the lumpy springs under his ass, the frayed fabric beneath his arm. A wave of exhaustion rattles his bones, reverberates in his teeth. He thinks he could sleep for sixteen years.

Eddie clears his throat when he comes back with the beers, a sudden cautiousness about him as he hands Steve an unopened can like Steve might claw him in return.

"Sit down," Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna bite."

Eddie makes a strangled noise. The springs bounce as he plops onto the seat beside Steve, sitting sideways with one leg up on the couch between them, his arm resting on the back. "So, ah...." He gives a wavering chuckle; pulls a lock of hair across his face to hide himself. "Is this the part where I formally apologize for trying to knife you?"

Ugh. No the fuck it isn't. Steve’s too drained for it, absolutely at capacity for more serious shit this evening, thanks; and besides that, it was...

Whatever. It's old news.

Instead of giving a real answer he reaches into his pocket, snicks his own knife open and pretends to brandish it at Eddie, asking, "Eye for an eye?"

Eddie's eyes go huge. "Dude, what the fuck??"

"Just fucking with you," Steve laughs, lifting the can up to his mouth. "But there; now we're even. Shoulda seen your face."

“Ah—!” Eddie’s jaw drops in offense. “Ex-cuse you!”

God, of course he’s more dramatic than all the kids combined.

Steve jabs the knife into his beer, pops the top and starts to chug, throat working as he gulps the whole thing down in four big sips. It tastes like frothy, bitter piss, but it's cold and it soothes the scratch in his throat.

Eddie lets out a low whistle. "Well, goddamn, Harrington."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" "You're not?"

Steve grins and wipes his mouth.

—

They get drunk pretty fast (Eddie refused to be upstaged in his own house, so one shot-gunned beer became two became four), and somewhere along the line the conversations get weird; hilarious and dumb. Saying shit just to say it, chipping away at the ice wall between them with bare fingernails.

Eddie hollers some shit like: "What are you even talking about?" and his arms fling out wide, almost spilling his beer. "The deep sea is so much scarier than the mountains!"

"Are you joking?" Steve throws back. "The mountains have, like, giant cats and shit! Birds of prey with wingspans the size of your van."

"Yeah, and the deep sea has eldritch monsters that live in volcano vents and hunt with no eyes and eat their young for fun or whatever the fuck. You ever heard of an anglerfish? Or a phantom anglerfish? Tell me that shit isn't right out of a Lovecraft story."

"A what story?"

"How am I the one who hasn’t graduated yet?"

Then later:

“Dude, Batman? Seriously?”

“He’s the world’s greatest detective!”

“He’s a greasy little weirdo. You only like him because of your whole…” Steve gestures at his tattoos.

“Whatever, Spiderfan.”

And later still:

"Okay, okay, okay. Fuck, marry, kill... Shit. Y’know this would really be easier in a town where so many people hadn’t died."

Steve grimaces at himself; expects Eddie to call him out. It’s too insensitive, too soon.

Eddie just cracks a grin and suggests, "Fuck, marry, revive?"

—

They talk for a long time. Eddie's kind of charming when he's not being a dick. A nice smile, deep laugh lines. Steve can almost see why the kids are so obsessed with him. He's never met someone so animated; feels like he's talking to a Saturday morning cartoon. The conversation mellows out after a while, and he doesn't realize he's dozed off until Eddie shakes him awake.

"Hey, man," he says, voice just above a whisper. "I'm going to bed. You're welcome to crash on the couch, but, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I mean, your back is probably gonna hate you for it."

Steve rubs his fists against his eyelids and blinks himself awake. Feels jittery and weird, yanked out of the start of a bad dream. When he looks up he sees that he’s got his shoes up on the couch; and there’s dried drool on his chin, and all at once he feels embarrassed, off-balance and panicked like he missed the last step down a steep flight of stairs. Of course he's overstayed his welcome. He's being fucking rude. "My bad," he mutters as he jumps up off the couch. Stands up way too fast, makes his vision tilt and swirl. "I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie reaches for his arm. "Dude,” he says, “you're fine. You can stay if you want.”

Steve moves out of his hold. “Nah, get some sleep; I’ll see ya around.”

Eddie frowns at him, a little furrow between his brows, and somehow Steve feels like he’s in the wrong, like Eddie isn’t the one who just kicked him out.

Like maybe Steve’s just running away for a second time in one night. Always back and away, this guy.

Who's the fucking coward now?

—

part 11

y'all know the drill, tagging whoever commented on yesterday's installment provided your tumblr settings let me <;3 @thealwithnoname @violetsteve @manda-panda-monium @stuftzombie @bronwenmarie @aliea82 @slowandsteddie @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @ahsokatanoss @steveshairspray @hallucinatedjosten @estrellami-1 @ppunkpuppyy @stevesbipanic @silver-snaffles @yourmom-isgay @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @zombiecreatures @im-a-disgrace-to-humanity @faery-god @hotluncheddie @runninriot @a-little-unsteddie @teatimeeverybody @newtstabber @pearynice @hellion-child @cuips-not-cute @steddieas-shegoes @steves-strapcollection @loguine-linguine @griefabyss69

[chlorinecake]

Okay this is my first time doing one of these but could you do like how the enhypen members would react to seeing you practice their part in the choreography of one of their songs

「 ✦ enha reaction’s WHEN YOU LEARN THEIR PART IN A DANCE CHOREOGRAPHY ✦ 」

𓂃 𓈒 or when they see you dance for the first time

idol bf ! 엔하이픈 x non idol ! f. reader ⃘ 🎧

contains ∿ 🧋 pet names, kisses & teasing genre fluff, crack, est. dating 1192 words

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 ✴︎

He would be quite impressed honestly, taking pride in his sweet girlfriend wanting to mirror his talent in some way.

“You gotta get the head isolation down at this part, though,” he critiqued, putting a finger to his lips while dancing Sweet Venom.

“Well, if it looks wrong, blame yourself, because that’s who I’ve been copying this whole time,” you teased, poking him in the side of his waist and making him chuckle.

“Hmm… maybe your performance just needs a little bedazzling... Be right back!”

Your boyfriend ran out of the dancing studio, telling you to close your eyes once he came back before nestling a cowgirl hat atop your head like an angel on a Christmas tree.

You reacted immediately upon seeing your reflection in the mirror, a now smiley Heeseung standing behind your frame, “What?! Wait- When did you get this?”

Literally your face right now: 😭 

“People don’t call me an ace for nothing, babe. Now c’monnn, let’s dance together this time…,” he urged in a sing-songy voice, playfully tugging at your hands while spinning you around, “I wanna see my pretty cowgirl dance for me some more...”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 ✴︎

“Yeah, I literally have the world’s coolest girlfriend now…,” Jay huffed proudly, giving you a kiss on the crown of your head after catching you dance in the living room.

“Now? What do you mean now?!?!,” you asked offendedly, pouting at him slightly.

“This wasn’t exactly how I planned to bring this up, but are you ready to become my Mrs. Park?”

“I've been ready since the day we met, Jay,” you smiled, burying your face in his chest while hugging him, “But I would've danced your part in a song a lot sooner if I knew it'd get me a ring...”

“Oh? So a diamond is all you want me for now? Wowwww, babe-”

You gave him a look that automatically let him know you weren't too fond of the comment he just made, “Kidding” he said, ruffling your hair playfully, “I know you love me... enough to copy me, apparently.”

“Should we break out in synchronized dancing now?” You offered, playing Sacrifice Eat Me Up from the beginning on your phone.

“Yes… but only if you can keep up with me, of course.”

*Insert Jay's infamous Roblox smirk*

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 ✴︎

The definition of 🧍‍♂️when you pulled him aside to show off the new choreography you'd been working on for the past hour.

Goofy laugher pt. 1

“Is this actually happening right now?,” he asked while laughing shyly, just after you finished ✨performing✨ for him…

“What do you mean? D-did it look bad?,” you asked worriedly, part of your heart still feeling warm though from hearing his shy giggle earlier.

“No, no, you did great, it’s just… why my part?” He continued, hoping to draw the conversation in a different direction, given how flustered he truly felt.

“Because you look hot while doing it... I felt inspired,” you said cheekily, walking up to Jake and placing your hands on his chest, Jake’s hands wrapping around your waist as he looked back down at you.

“Babe, you can’t say stuff like that then act all playful without expecting my brain to short-circuit,” he sighed, face heating up as he looked back down at your giggling frame within the hug.

“Well, did I at least do your part in the dance any justice or did that make your brain-malfunctioning even worse?,” you pouted with puppy-dog eyes as if to persuade his anger, even though you already could tell he liked it.

“No, love… I'm just in shock, honestly... you did criminally well.”

*Insert second-hand embarrassment from Jake's corny ahh pun*

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 ✴︎

Sunghoon was initially kinda salty about you having locked yourself up in the garage all morning on his day off, but all those feelings went away once he caught on to what you were up to.

“Hey, I didn’t say you could come in here,” you yelped, just as your boyfriend barged in the garage, catching you mid dance move.

You had been practicing Chaconne because you knew it was one of his favorite songs and you figured it'd cheer him to see you supporting his interests.

“Don’t mind me,” he started, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, “I’m just observing... please, continue.”

“God, Hoon, you’re embarrassing me,” you whined, covering your face from the way he was staring you up and down in this moment.

“It’s cute, though… watching you stress yourself out trying to dance like me when the pro's been one call away this whole time.”

The pro?, you thought to yourself, the self-proclaimed title being enough to snap you out of your bashfulness.

“I might’ve been practicing for a while, but I’m already doing some parts better than you,” you scoffed competitively, making him laugh at your words to the point where his dimples started showing.

“Cocky and shy? What an interesting combination… did you get that from me, too?”

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 ✴︎

Sunoo smiled knowingly as he walked into the dance studio, grabbing a nearby rag to pat-dry the sweat on your face, “you’ve been avoiding me all day and working out like crazy, so what’s going on?”

“I’ve been working on this tough choreography, actually … but since you’re here, maybe you can help?”

“Oh, okay,” he chirped, watching as you started to dance out the steps to Fever, stopping when you got to the part you’d been struggling with.

“How do you do this part? It just looks so much better when you do it…,” your voice stalled as you saw his cheeks expand with a smile on the mirror, “SUNOO!?”

Goofy laugher pt. 2–

The guy was quite literally laughing his ass off at you right now, feeling both a mix of embarrassment and flattery at your actions.

He noticed you pouting, covering his mouth to stall his giggles before speaking, “I’m sorry babe, you just looked so cute while dancing, I couldn’t hold back!”

“It’s supposed to look sexy though,” you whined, knowing that it’d get him to hug you in response.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 ✴︎

“So is this your new idea of teasing me?,” Jungwon asked upon getting back home from work, the first thing in sight being you in front of the TV, quite literally passing the mic to one of his fancams.

You audibly scoffed at his words, pausing the video and giving him a look, “This is hardly teasing, Wonie… just ‘cause I’m your girlfriend, it doesn’t mean I can’t fangirl over you from time to time…”

He sat his duffel bag on the ground, walking up to give you his usual ‘I’m home’ kiss and hug before responding, “Fine then… but you definitely need to keep practicing that footwork if you want me to take you seriously.”

“Heyyy,” you whined, playfully smacking his shoulder which only made him laugh at how adorable you look, “now who’s teasing?”

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 ✴︎

“Okay, I do not stick my butt out like that when I do it. Watch,” Niki corrected, initially having cringed upon catching you dance Bite Me, but had now turned your little activity into a whole ass dance-off.

“Yes, you 110% do... you always have to babygirl-ify the dance moves,” you replied matter-of-factly, starting from the pre-chorus and flipping your hair more than necessary just like him.

“I know you’re about to start spewing trash whenever you use made up words,” he scoffed with fake annoyance, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips after seeing you dance so passionately.

“Stop, I can tell you’re smiling! Just admit that you’re impressed by me, Riki, and take the L… or W since you have a talented girlfriend…”

“Fine… you’re right… I am highly impressed… both by your dancing skills and choice of vocabulary,” he confessed playfully, giving you a side hug and kissing the top on your head.

“Maybe we should work towards debuting as a couple duo now... I just know that everyone would bias us…,” he thought out loud, making you giggle at his words.

tysm for reading this quick lil fic ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nikisdubblchococake @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s

[1d1195]

Sunflower - Extra I

Read Sunflower here | ~2.3k words

From Me: This is mostly dialogue. I thought it was cute 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: fluffy and maybe a tiny bit of angst.

Summary: Harry reminisces on their first date. How badly he wanted to kiss her and know everything about her.

“History.”

He smiled. One question answered.

Only a thousand or so more to go.

His head rested on her stomach, nestled against her soft shirt. Harry loved looking at her, but it was good he was tucked into her embrace because she was so gorgeous it still made him tongue tied sometimes. “Why?”

“I loved the content, I just sucked at remembering the details. I never remembered names or countries that were involved in a conflict. It’s all just vague ideas and things. Dates, though. I was good at memorizing dates. Probably because it was numbers. Battles and locations? Not a clue. I sucked.”

He chuckled. “What’s your favorite candle scent?”

If anyone had told her that Harry enjoyed being snuggly and being the little spoon months ago while he was visiting the bistro, she wouldn’t have believed you. But here he was. His ear pressed to her tummy, his hands wrapped under her back, and her fingers combing through his hair. He was making her body about a thousand degrees warmer, but she didn’t care. It was nice. Like a blanket. Having Harry so close was a dream come true. “The candles they put out for fall in stores. Anything that smells like a campfire or apples. Or both.”

He closed his eyes unable to believe how lucky he was to hold her like this. His legs dangled off the side of her couch and he nodded tiredly against her. He had a tremendously long day at the office. They were supposed to leave in a few minutes to go get dinner—one of their only date nights, but he didn’t want to move. The way her fingers touched his scalp lightly scratching and massaging an itch he didn’t even know existed. Staying in seemed better. But she was all dressed up. Her makeup so pretty and flawless amplifying how beautiful she looked.

He couldn’t not show her off. Even if she was all his anyway.

Her stomach grumbled beneath his ear. “Gotta feed you, hmm?”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled softly. “We can stay in,” she suggested, nudged her feet until he heard one of her shoes fall to the floor and then the other.

He shook his head sitting up. His face was instantly colder than he wanted it to be. His arms ached to hold her close again even though they had been snuggled up for hours. She smiled that beautiful smile that made him so happy he could have stared at her for ages.

How lucky was he that he got to be so close to her.

*

Their first date, Harry showed up an hour early because he was so anxious and excited. He apologized profusely, but she didn't mind. "You'll just have to watch me get ready," she warned him. So he did. He watched her curl her hair and put on makeup in awe. But most importantly, she really didn’t mind in the slightest. She simply directed him to sit on the toilet seat lid and told him to be patient while she got even prettier (his words not hers).

Of course, he was in awe because watching her was his favorite movie. It was like watching an artist painting the next Sistine Chapel. Her smile met his eyes no less than twenty times in the mirror as she worked and while they chatted.

He didn’t need to ask what kind of shampoo she used because he could see it through the glass enclosure around her shower. Something floral and light that permeated when he got close to her. When her curling iron released steam from the product she used in tandem with the sweet-smelling scent. It made him feel completely relaxed even though he was still so nervous.

“What’s your favorite song?” He asked while she did her mascara. She grinned again, shyly.

“I’m more of a favorite of a week kind of song lover.”

“This week?” He wondered.

She tilted her head. “State Lines by Novo Amor.”

“Pretty,” he nodded. “Sad, no?”

She shrugged. “I think it’s hopeful.”

“Hopeful?” he repeated. “They’re in love but they’re in a long-distance relationship and s’literally creating distance between them emotionally,” he frowned. It was a sad song for her to love so much. It was pretty, probably good to listen to if she was feeling down or needed a nap. She turned around to look at him head on, with a smirk, without the mirror to play the go between. It was full eye contact. Her pretty, stunning eyes that made him tongue tied. The smile that made his heart skip a beat. Her entire presence the reason he had spent hundreds maybe thousands of dollars at the bistro over the last four months with the prettiest, brightest flower known to man on every surface of the place.

“The ending,” she said simply. “Extremely hopeful. He wants it to work.”

Harry knew the feeling. Suddenly it was his favorite song too.

*

“Why did y’pick finance?” He asked. They were at dinner when he asked. Not The Sunflower Bistro. Harry did suggest eating there. It was an important place to him after all. But she insisted elsewhere. Mainly for fear that Niall or Jake would make her crazy or embarrassed. It wouldn’t be good for her mental sanity for a first date. Plus, if he was honest, Harry was still a bit jealous of Jake even though he knew he didn’t need to be. But he didn’t want to test his own luck with his emotions. Nor did he want to share his very sweet date with anyone. Even if it was only due to her politeness that would keep them talking to her as they served them.

“I love numbers, and I liked economics in high school and found something so fascinating about the ebb and flow of money. I know that makes me sound money hungry but it’s not. I’ve been applying to a ton of nonprofit organizations. I want to work for a company that wants to help people. I want to make sure kids have school lunches and that elderly people have a place to live that won’t cost an arm and a leg.”

Tongue-tied. So completely, totally, tongue-tied. There was no way anyone this sweet would want to be with Harry. He worked for a big scary corporate job and was probably the exact opposite of what she wanted. “Are you okay?” She asked.

He nodded, then shook his head while clearing his throat. How embarrassing would it be if he couldn’t talk to her on their first date because he was so goddamn in love with her? “How many siblings do y’have?” He needed a safer topic. One that wasn’t going to make him fall in love with her so readily.

“Just one. We’re not very close, but I wish we were. I’d still kill for him. But he’s still in high school and I’m finishing college. I’m hoping when we’re older we’ll get closer.”

“My sister and I are closer now that we’re older. I imagine I was a pain in her butt when we were younger. When she was a teen, and I was an annoying little kid.”

“I bet she loved you still. There’s six years between us, I loved the crap out of him even when I wanted to tear his head off.”

He chuckled. “I think you’re nicer than Gemma.”

She smiled and sipped her drink. Harry wanted to know everything about her. Every seemingly trivial piece of information there was to know. It felt like if he didn’t know he would explode. It was like he was studying for an exam, and she was every answer. All the months he spent in his regular booth twice a week, he felt like he learned nothing. Now he was trying to cram for some made up test and nothing about his line of questions made sense.

“What kind of music do y’listen t’when you’re cooking?”

“Like this classic rock radio station that my dad listened to my entire childhood. It’s super nostalgic but it’s like a hug when I’m alone cooking for myself,” she wrinkled her nose. “It’s kind of lame, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “No, s’nice,” he smiled. “Send me the station so I can listen too,” he suggested.

Her head tilted; her eyes thoughtful as she grinned back at him. As much as he wanted to know everything about her, he would have loved to stare at her just as much. He opened his mouth to ask another question but fortunately the waiter interrupted.

It probably wasn’t appropriate to ask her how many kids she wanted on a first date.

*

Harry walked her to the door feeling more anxious than when he came to pick her up. He was supposed to kiss her. Supposed to. But how could he? How could he do that if he was worried he would drool in her mouth or if he would do it wrong and ruin it? If he ruined it, she would never go on another date with him. After all that, all the stuff he learned about her, it seemed cruel for his anxiety to ruin the end of the night.

“I had a really nice time,” her voice was soft as they shared the top step of the stoop outside her apartment. A one bedroom in a small duplex house. Her friend lived on the other side, and she was glad there wasn’t a car in her driveway to make her feel exposed.

“Good,” he bit his lip. “I... I guess I’ll let y’go. I know y’work a double tomorrow.”

Was that disappointment in her eyes? “Oh... yeah. Yeah, I do,” Her face fell ever so slightly. If Harry wasn’t so entranced he would have missed it for sure. Leaning in he pressed his lips to her cheek. Her skin was so soft and he was so nervous he was going to linger and act like a creep.

“Good night,” he murmured.

“Good night,” Harry turned the second the word left her mouth. He walked to his car feeling like an idiot. He closed his eyes as he touched the car handle and then there was a touch on his back. “I’m sorry!” She blurted then looked up at the sky and winced. “Jesus, I’m so sorry,” she croaked.

Harry blinked. “Sorry?” He questioned.

“Yes, so sorry. I feel like I ruined our first date. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I lost an hour of prep time and I’m not blaming you. I was so happy to have you around for an extra hour but I didn’t get to think about what I wanted to ask or say. Then you just asked all these really sweet and thoughtful questions. I didn’t ask you one question about yourself, Harry. Not one I don’t know why you even stayed the whole time, I feel so terrible. I don’t know what happened and I’m sad you didn’t want to kiss me because of it—”

Harry was in awe, but he wasn’t someone that liked to inflict pain on others. So he cupped either side of her jaw and kissed her. Just pressed his lips to hers and ran his thumb along her cheek as he did. She grabbed one of his elbows and sank into the kiss as well. Her lips returning the pressure perfectly. There wasn’t too much drool and he didn’t ruin it. He pulled back and her eyelids fluttered open. Her cheek was warm beneath his thumb. If it was a bit lighter out, he imagined a pretty blush bloomed across her cheeks.

“I really wanted t’kiss you,” he murmured. “Can I kiss y’again?”

She nodded mutely, her eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his mouth back to hers, one hand moving from her jaw to the back of her neck before it smoothed down her spine and he pulled her closer to him by pressing against the small of her back. He kissed her softly again restraining the moan that begged to come from his throat. When he pulled away again, he swallowed.

“Y’didn’t do anything wrong. M’so... tongue tied over you. I want t’know everything ‘bout you. I was trying so hard not t’let the conversation die because I didn’t want you t’think I was stupid. Or boyish and only obsessed with how pretty y’looked—which y’did, by the way. You look stunning,” her smile looked equal parts relieved and adorable. “I didn’t even notice y’didn’t ask a question.”

“We talked all the time at Sunflower.”

“I think it was different when I was jus’ a customer, kitten,” he shrugged. “Y’flitted about and chatted so easily because it was your job. M’glad y’were nervous. Means it wasn’t a chore for you t’go out with me.”

She giggled and Harry wondered if he could record the sound, and have it play in his headphones while he fell asleep. “I want to know everything about you, Harry. I’m sorry I didn’t ask more questions.”

“You don’t have t’be sorry, love,” he assured her, kissed the top of her head and pulled her into his embrace and leaned against his car as he held her. “You could ask them on the next date?” He offered as a question.

“Yes,” she nodded against his body. “A next date for sure.”

*

“What are you thinking about?” She whispered. “You’ve got this dreamy look in your eye.”

Did he? How long had he been staring off thinking about their first date. Poor thing had to be starving, and he was just lying there, keeping her trapped in his arms while he pictured their first two kisses. “Nothing,” he shook his head.

“Thinking of your other girlfriend?” She wrinkled her nose. Harry snorted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, kitten,” he rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead before he sat up shifting to hold her on his lap as if she weighed no more than a basket of laundry. “You’re the only girl for me.”

--

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Miguel’s and reader’s meet cute (baby daddy AU: College days prequels)

Baby Daddy Masterlist

Not proofread.

Word count: 900

Taglist is closed!!

—

Miguel had always been told from his elders that college was going to be a fresh start. A new school, a new roommate, new possible friends, new opportunities, a new path to his future. He had been preparing and planning how his freshmen year would go the second he finished walking the stage at his high school.

So far, things were going to plan, he made it to his first set of classes early to get a good seat, although not in the front due to his height (he didn’t want to be an ass to the people behind him), was able to get up early in the morning to go to the gym, his relationship with his roommate Peter was even going well. Although he was a bit more of an extrovert then himself, they still got along fairly fine. So far everything has worked out for him.

His third day of classes was going just like the first two did, waking up around eight a.m, working out till ten, getting a protein shake and some breakfast, then be at his first class by twelve. To his surprise though, the lecture hall was already almost filled despite him being ten minutes early. Making sure to take a mental note to try arriving a bit early as he took one of the few lingering seats in the back row between a girl and another guy.

The girl next to him shot him a quick smile when she saw him sitting in the empty seat to her right, one to which he returned before going to quietly set up his laptop for note taking. She was quite pretty, her hair clipped up into a ponytail, long-sleeve cream top and some flared leggings, a black backpack hanging off her chair and a metal water bottle covered in stickers next to her laptop, also covered in stickers. But despite her warm and welcoming presence, Miguel decided to pay her no mind as he idly waited for class to start.

After another few minutes, the professor finally began. Droning on mostly about the course expectations and grade requirements, before he starts his actual lesson. The room was mostly quiet except the professor and the occasional murmur from other students talking between one another about the subject. Miguel was so sucked into the lecture, he barely noticed the quiet tapping of a finger on his desk.

“Hey. Excuse me.” The quiet whisper pulled him back to present time, turning to the source of the voice, the pretty girl who’s sitting next to him. “Hey sorry, I didn’t pick up the last thing he said, it’s kinda hard to hear him from up here. Can I…” you trailed off, pointing towards his laptop. Usually, Miguel would scoff at the implication of someone asking him to take a glance at his notes, telling them to ask someone else or maybe pay better attention. But for the pretty girl in his statistics class…

“Yeah here.” He whispered back, turning his laptop to his side so she could see better, giving her a moment to write it down before turning it back to its original spot.

“Thanks.”

“Course.”

That’s were the conversation should have ended, he should have left that be and just focused back on the last twenty minutes of class before walking out to his next one. Leaving this be a passing moment, a barely acquaintance that he’d nodded at when you’d cross paths in the courtyard until he simply didn’t anymore. Instead though.

“I like your water bottle.”

“Hmm?”

“I like your water bottle. It’s cute.”

“Oh.” God that sweet, sweet smile, made his heart melt a bit. “Thank you, I was hoping it doesn’t come across as childish or anything.”

“Oh no it’s fun, I just have one of those plastic Gatorade ones.”

He didn’t even notice that he ended up making conversation till the lesson was over, finally realizing when he saw the guy to his left get up.

“Guess class is over, huh?”

“Oh-yeah, looks like it is.”

Miguel set his laptop back in his bag, and got up, waiting till you did the same before walking out of the lecture hall.

“Thanks again for letting me glance at your notes.”

“Of course, if you ever need help with notes, just let me know.”

“Yeah totally, I’ll try to catch you after class or something if we don’t sit next to each other next time.” Oh, he was definitely planning on sitting next to you next time. But he wasn’t going to admit that, instead he shook his head and waved his hand to play it cool.

“No, that's too much of a hassle, let me give you my number, so you can just shoot me a text.” Wait till his younger brother found out he already gave a girl his number during his third day of class.

You both took a second to exchange numbers, Miguel was about to create the contact when he realized he never got your name.

“I’m sorry , I don’t think I ever actually introduced myself. I’m Miguel.” He said as he stuck his hand out towards you.

“I’m (Y/N).” Pretty name for a pretty girl. You quickly took his hand in yours, shaking it before putting it back to your side.

“Well I hope to see you around, (Y/N).”

If only he knew his faith with the pretty girl from his statics class.

—

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[hrts4carmy]

in tommy shelby’s words: “you belong to me, my property. no one touches my property,” please give us your take if this was carmy 🫢🫢🫢

omg friend. i so indulge in peaky blinders. obsessed!

ok tbh i feel like carmy would have trouble being so outright, but if u two already have a sort of developed relationship and he is confident (sexually too) with you then this is very him. thinking abt him having a lil jealous moment. (maybe ur fwb here, hmm)

thinking of you having an ex who shows up at the restaurant one day before open. playful laughter and innocent conversation turns into an uncomfortable situation fast. you don’t want things to escalate so you’re taking a gentle parenting approach and letting him down easy for the hundredth time. Richie sees all of this going down in front of house and can’t help himself but to stir the pot.

“Yo, Cousin. Some guy out here talking to your girl. Might wanna get on that.” He claps him on the shoulder.

Carmen looks up from his station, brows furrowing the slightest bit. “My- what? What’s going on?” He wipes his hands on a rag before his attention is taken entirely. He can’t focus on the dish anymore. What’s Richie talking about?

He peeks his head out the door to find none other than exactly what Richie said. You and some guy. Some skinny guy with shitty tattoos and brown hair. Some guy who is entirely too close to you, he thinks. As your voice starts to raise, said guy steps closer to you. Carmen watches as you take a step back, and he wonders when it’s appropriate to interrupt.

He makes the decision when the guy puts his hands on your waist, pulling you into him. Your hands fall to his chest and try to push him away, and Carmy can hear your voice all the way from the door of the kitchen.

“Jesse, get the fuck off of me.” You push harder, but to no avail. When you hear footsteps, you thank whatever God above. You almost curse yourself when you see who they belong to. Carmen’s face is cold, an expression only a little more intense than what you’ve all been on the receiving end of in the kitchen.

He pulls you back by your shoulder, positioning the two of you so he’s blocking your body. “We got a problem here or something?” The words come out of his mouth like venom, tilting his head as he asks. Your ex looks over Carmen’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of you, but is quickly intercepted by the broad shoulders covering you.

Jesse puts his hands up in surrender and shakes his head at the look on Carmen’s face. “Nah, man. You got that.” He nods. That almost makes him more mad. He balls his fists and presses his finger nails into his palms. A lame attempt to calm himself down. Don’t do anything stupid, you’re not even dating her. But the image floods his mind again, his hands on you where only Carmen’s should be.

“S’what I thought. Get the fuck out of my restaurant.” And he does, he makes quick work of it too. To say you’re thankful is an understatement, because Carmen really got him to go away without a fight. When he turns around, his face is slightly flushed. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. He almost looks more shaken up than you.

“Thanks for that. You good?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles. A real chuckle as he throws his head back, and you feel like an outsider. Were you missing something? But when Carmen composes himself, you realize nothing is really funny at all. His hands find your waist, squeezing the same spot that Jesse had moments ago. Tighter, though, almost bruising.

“Meet in my office. 5 minutes.” Is all he says before letting go, walking back in the kitchen like nothing happened. You feel the whole situations given you whiplash, but of course you do what he says. Why wouldn’t you?

The 5 minutes you wait feels like an hour. You pick at the skin of your nails before you make it to his office door, turning the handle and stepping in. Your arm is immediately pulled in, as Carmy slams the door and pushes you up against it. You gasp, but it’s quickly swallowed from his mouth on yours.

Carmy kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it. Teeth scraping against eachother as his tongue slips in your mouth. Your hands come to his face as you pull him off to take a breath. You manage to speak between gasps of air. “Fuck is this for?”

He brings you in for another searing kiss before answering, foot knocking your knees apart. He brings his thigh between your legs, pressing it against you. You bite your lip to stifle a moan. “Fuckin’ idiot comes into my place and thinks he can just put his hands on you?” He scoffs, jolting his thigh between your legs again. “You’re mine, no one should touch you but me.” You find yourself deliriously nodding against him. Carmy coos at you, tone full of condescension.

“It’s okay. I’ll show you who you belong to. Remind you why he’s your ex and why I’m the one who fucks you.”